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starlightsearches · 4 years

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The Supreme Leader’s Wife

18+ Only! Minors will be blocked.

Armitage Hux x Reader (she/her pronouns) x Kylo Ren

Warnings: Smut (18+ only) PIV sex, name calling (very minor), cuckoldry, brief orgasm denial, fingering, masturbation (m), choking (minor), some dom/sub elements (also minor), religious imagery (whoops), language. Please let me know if I missed anything!

Wow, okay, I don’t really know where this came from and I probably won’t write anything like it again. Very loosely inspired by this drabble that I did a few days ago. Shout out to the wonderful @thembohux for their support and encouragement. If you enjoy this, you should definitely check out their Emperess AU.

Let me know what you think! I appreciate any and all thoughts 💖

General Hux stands outside the door, hands clasped behind his back in tight fists, the fingers of one hand circling his other wrist with enough pressure to bruise. The nape of his neck itches, leftover moisture from the shower dripping down the collar of his greatcoat and wetting the back of his uniform. He had spent too long in the refresher, trying to wash the thoughts from his head, trying to decide whether or not he would even come—it had almost made him late.

He’s here, right on time, whether or not he should be. The door opens, and he steps inside the darkened room.

“Come in, General.” It’s Ren who speaks, voice low and quiet. Hux follows the sound, moving carefully in the darkness to the sitting area. Ren lounges arrogantly, sprawled on the couch like a throne, arms bare and stretched casually over the edge of the sofa, regarding Hux with the faintest hint of humor in his eyes. It puts him on edge.

“I didn’t think you’d show.”

“Yet I’m here.” Hux looks away, hoping he appears bored as he takes in his surroundings. He'd been in the Supreme Leader's chambers before—on business—but you had never been around during those meetings. It's strange how habitual it feels to look for you when he enters the space.

“She’s still getting ready," Ren pulls the thought right from Hux's head, responding as if he had spoken aloud, "but I’m sure she’ll join us in a moment.”

“And it's— I mean, she knows that she doesn’t have to . . .” He sighs through his nose, his jaw clenched tight. Ren doesn't bother to finish his sentence this time, sinking further into his seat—enjoying the way the general fumbles.

“Fuck you?" He finally offers, running his tongue over his teeth when a blush spreads over Hux’s cheeks, "this was her idea."

Oh. The general’s knees go weak, the blood rushing from his head, his cock certainly flushed and aching. How many times had he imagined what it would be like—fooled himself into believing that it was your hands, not his own, bringing him his release? How many times had he watched you speak and thought about pulling a moan from those pretty lips?

A part of him trembles, his body on full-alert, trying to bury those thoughts where Ren could not find them—as he had done before—but he manages to brush the fear away with some effort. Ren had certainly already seen them, and, apparently, he didn't mind.

The refresher door opens and you appear at the threshold, hesitant, but when your eyes meet his, you soften. The air is charged between you, hints of your desire evident in the warmth he feels just looking at you, in the way your teeth run softly over your bottom lip.

Ren beckons you to him with an outstretched hand, and, reluctantly, you peel your eyes away from Hux, moving across the room to your husband, the fabric of your robe swishing gently against your thighs.

He doesn't usually let himself stare like this. He can resist the urge, most of the time, when you're dressed for a meeting, or a gala, but he's never seen this much of your skin before. His eyes stay glued to the hem of the robe, the sway of your hips as you make your way to your husband.

You curl into Ren’s lap, and he holds you tightly, one possessive hand splayed wide over your stomach, the other trailing to fingers up and down the inside of your thigh. He presses a kiss to the junction of your shoulder and neck, and you melt, lips parting gently when he grazes the delicate skin with his teeth.

"Sit down, general."

Desire pools in Hux’s stomach, and his palms grow moist in his gloves. He can’t help the shame that floods him, a ruddy heat that spreads through his torso all the way to the tips of his fingers and tells him to look away. His mind can not let go of the idea that this is not something meant for him to see, but he can’t deny the way his heart races when Ren’s hand trails higher, and he spies a hint of black lace at the apex of your thighs.

"I'd prefer to stand."

“Sit down or leave,” Ren’s voice is steady and hard, totally unaffected as you move against him, writhing in his lap. He slips the hand on your stomach under the fabric of your robe, parting it beneath his fingers. He kneads your breast beneath the fabric and you press up into his touch, spine arching, jaw hanging open, your head falling back against Ren’s shoulder. Hux does as he’s told, falling into the chair behind him, holding back the curses that threaten to spill out from his lips.

"If I'm going to let you do this, you have to do as I say," Ren continues, but Hux only half-hears him, infinitely more interested in the way the tendons in your neck flex as Ren slips one hand beneath the waistband of your panties, the fabric distorting with each long, slow stroke of his fingers. A low moan escapes your lips.

“Well, will you?” Ren smirks at him, pulling his hand from between your legs, taking his middle finger into his mouth, letting it linger before he pulls it out with a soft, wet pop. You whine at the lack of contact, the sound cut off by a small cry when he pinches your nipple beneath the fabric.

“Will I what?”

“Do as I say?”

Hux’s core tightens, his jaw so stiff it’s a wonder it hasn’t snapped. He knows that Ren’s getting off on this—torturing him, making you so desperate and needy. He wants the one thing Hux swore he’d never give him.

“We’re waiting, general,” Ren strokes his hand from the hollow of your throat, between the valley of your breasts as he parts the robe down its center, exposing the barest sliver of skin before he meets the black lace again, stroking three thick fingers over your clothed cunt. Hux presses his lips together so firmly that they turn white.

Unphased by Hux’s stubborn response, Ren changes tactics. Shifting his attention to you, he grips your jaw in one massive hand and forces your eyes to meet his as he whispers, just loud enough for Hux to hear, “So wet already, little slut? Do you need the general to fuck you that desperately? Why don’t you tell him how badly you want his cock?”

“Please,” you’re grinding against nothing now that Ren has removed his hand, the word distorted by the strength of his hold on your face. A sharp pain draws Hux back from the scene before him, and he tastes blood, his teeth digging sharply into the meat of his cheek. He wonders if Ren would refuse your release if he decided to leave right now.

“Alright, fine. I’ll do whatever you want,” Hux can’t stop himself, can’t imagine going back to his quarters alone. His hands ache at the thought, unsure how many times he’d have to fuck his fist raw to stop seeing the image of you begging for him engraved on the back of his eyelids.

“Good. Why don’t you show him to the bed, love?”

Ren releases his grip on your jaw, sliding his hand out from under the robe, propelling you forward with a smack to your ass. Hux forces himself to make eye contact when you offer him your hand.

He follows you through the doors, to the bedroom, the heat of your skin sinking easily through the leather of his gloves and doing nothing to quell the sweat beading against his palms. The sight of the bed, with it's dark, silky sheets makes him light-headed. This is the place you lay every night—the place where Ren has you, the way he’s about to have you. Hux reminds himself to breathe.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Hux whispers as you turn around to face him, pulling him closer with a hand at his waist. Ren hasn't entered the room yet, and although the other man assured him it was fine, he'd never forgive himself if he learned that you had been coerced.

“I’m sure,” your smile is sincere, and you’re close enough now that your bodies brush, the material of your robe slipping gently against his uniform, "I’ve always wanted this. From the moment we met," You stroke your hand up his side, fingers dancing lightly over his ribs before you take the collar of his great coat in your hands, pushing it down off his shoulders.

“You’ve always wanted . . . me?” The edge of the bed dips under his weight as you pull him into a sitting position, and he resists the urge to rub his palms over the tops of his thighs. You smile again, dropping your chin to your chest, suddenly shy.

“You didn’t know? I thought I had been too obvious.”

Ren enters, chair in hand that he rests at the end of the bed before stretching out across it, his legs spread wide, making no effort at all to hide the considerable tent in his pants. Hux averts his eyes, more than a little flustered. He had passively assumed that Ren was well-endowed, given the man’s stature, but having his assumptions confirmed is an entirely new feeling.

Ren refuses to shy away from the attention, resting his hands behind his head, the picture of self-satisfaction. There’s a suggestive humor in his voice when he speaks.

“What are you waiting for, general? Kiss her.”

Hux collects himself, taking a moment to remember why he’s here before he does as he’s told, cupping your jaw lightly. There’s a soft sheen of moisture coating your lips, but you lick them regardless, darting your tongue over your skin as he pulls you closer. He presses his mouth to yours gently, and you sigh against his skin, sinking into him. He can feel your heartbeat in the tips of your fingers when you brush them over his cheeks.

“Like you mean it.” Ren's voice cuts in, and Hux resists the urge to roll his eyes. He is kissing you like he means it, not that Ren would understand that. He’s not about to argue that point, though. He pulls you closer instead, one hand firm at your waist, slipping his tongue into the warm center of your mouth. You taste sweeter than he had expected.

The room grows warmer, your heat sinking through his uniform, deep into his skin and he's almost able to forget Ren's presence, caught up in the infinitely more pleasurable feeling of your hands and your body on his. Your grip on his uniform is desperate, needy, but never harsh. His stomach lurches when you lay back, letting his weight rest more fully on top of you.

A thin layer of sweat glistens on your neck, and he collects it on his tongue, licking a stripe up the column of your throat, the salt of your skin mixing with the lingering flavor of the leftover perfume that still clings to you.

His fingers find the collar of your robe, pulling it down off your shoulder, lips trailing leisurely over your collar bones. He can feel, more than see, Ren’s irritation at his reluctance to speed up the process—his annoyance permeating the room—but he chooses to ignore Ren more fully. If he only had one chance to experience such long-lived fantasies, he was going to take his time.

Your fingers card gently through his hair, stroking from the back of his neck up, pulling him closer, the wet heat of your breath soft against his ear. One of your hands finds his, letting him feel the soft lace that covers your breast under his fingers.

He pulls away slightly, absorbed in the gentle shift in your expression when he runs the pad of his thumb softly over your pebbled nipple, relishing the quiet gasp the move elicits.

You shrug the robe off your shoulders the rest of the way, leaning back with a coy smile, letting him admire the way the lingerie enhances your frame—the peaks and valleys of your body on display for him.

There’s no need for Ren to order him to continue—he’s back on you before the other man can express any kind of frustration, his lips on yours, clumsy and desperate and so damn eager that he surprises himself. Hux’s fingers tremble against your back as he works to undo the clasp of your bra, a shaky breath of relief leaving his lungs when it gives way without too much trouble.

You slide the garment off your shoulders, letting him look at you, your chest littered with fading bruises—Ren’s marks. The general’s mouth waters, and he leans in closer, ready to taste more of you, but he comes to a halt when you press one hand lightly to his shoulder, stopping his approach. Your tongue traces the top of your teeth before you turn to look at Ren.

Of course. He needs permission.

Ren’s leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped tightly together, the blood gone from his fingers. Hux is surprised that he had not touched himself yet. He would not have expected Ren to have that kind of restraint.

“You can leave marks of your own, if you’d like,” he says, shifting in his seat. His thinly veiled desperation brings a smile to Hux’s face—Ren didn’t have a monopoly on being difficult.

He turns back to you for confirmation, and you nod, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Just nothing above the collar, general,” you snake your hand over his again, pressing it into the supple flesh of your breast.

Hux has never believed in the existence of a pleasant afterlife—especially not for someone like him—but he’s sure that if one did exist it would pale in comparison to the way you gasp when he presses a kiss to the valley of your breasts, the hummingbird beat of your heart making itself known against the tip of his nose.

He wastes no time now, lavishing your body with the press of his lips, occasionally surprising you with a soft bite, the gentle graze of his teeth. Subtly, he lets one hand trace its own path down the curve of your waist and over the swell of your hip before nestling it gently between your thighs.

“General,” you gasp when he slides one finger past the hem of your panties and into your waiting heat, your cunt giving a preliminary squeeze around the solitary digit. Your hips shift against his hand, body desperate for more, but he refuses to give in, pinning your hips in place with the edge of his own. Hux has always been a patient man. He wouldn’t dream of rushing this.

“So needy, Your Highness,” he whispers, ghosting the pad of his thumb gently against the stiff peak of your clit in slow, languorous circles, “Has your husband not been fucking you the way that he should?”

You moan quietly in response, the sound muffled by the fabric of his uniform as you bury your head the crook of his neck. He keeps his movements slow and methodical, curling his finger against your tender front wall on each stroke, increasing the pressure on your clit with steady precision. A lower, deeper sound joins the steady chorus of your sighs and Hux’s heavy breathing.

He catches Ren’s eye over the expanse of dark sheets. It seems the Supreme Leader has finally given in, one hand stroking up and down his clothed length with excruciating leisure. The muscles in his jaw tighten, a testament to the restraint it must take to only offer himself this inadequate kind of relief, his dark hair plastered in slick strands against his sweat-soaked skin. There’s an animal, in his features—a carnal and base burning in his eyes that he cannot mask.

Hux snorts. Ren had spent all this time pretending that this was a favor for the general—bargaining chip, a kind of leverage. But the veil has been lifted. Ren is enjoying himself just as much as you are.

He adds a second finger without warning, savoring the way you shake against him, how exquisite you look with your head against the mattress, eyes shut tight and jaw pressing against the boundaries of your skin in a silent scream of ecstasy.

“General, please,” you manage to whimper, the languid movement of your hips meeting him at every stroke, chasing after the peak of your pleasure. He stills his hand.

“Armitage,” he says brusquely, breathing labored, the sound blocked out by the soft cry that escapes your lungs, tears of frustration pricking the corners of your eyes, “call me Armitage if you want to cum.”

“Do as he says,” Ren orders with no attempt to mask the tremor in his voice, stilling the pace of his hand to a stop, savoring the pain of his own stolen release.

“Armitage,” you grip at his uniform with both hands, pulling his mouth to yours, desperation evident in your every movement, “please, gods, please—”

He lets you kiss him, focuses all the attention of his hand on your clit, the movement of his thumb against the sensitive skin quicker and harder but no less steady.

He feels you break against him, your jaw left slack as he licks into your mouth, your thighs quivering at his sides, cunt clenching around his sopping fingers. He holds you against him until the shaking stops.

Your kiss finds his cheek first, arms heavy and graceless as they pull him closer, your lips traveling sloppily against his skin until they meet his own. You press your mouth to his, and some part of him thinks that it feels like love. Wishes that it could be love.

You whisper something to him, breathing too hard for the words to come out clearly, your hand teasing him through the fabric of his trousers. His cock jumps, unfamiliar with this kind of attention; it’s not love, but maybe it’s enough.

Your fingers make quick work of the fastenings on his uniform, pushing it from his shoulders, your hands trailing down his arms, the cold air collecting against his skin for only a moment before you sweep it away with your searing touch. You lift your hips into his, slipping your underwear off with both hands, totally bare for him.

“Enjoying yourself?” You’re not talking to him, Hux knows—his enjoyment is more than obvious as he licks and sucks over the soft flesh of your chest, your voice catching when he takes your nipple into his mouth with a soft bite. You’ve turned your attention to Ren, now, and Hux pauses his ministrations, passively curious. He watches as you pass the sweat and slick-soaked lace in your hand to your husband, who balls them into his tight fist, working the fabric leisurely over the head of his now-uncovered dick.

“I think you’re being spoiled, love” he says, leaning closer, on his knees at the side of the bed. He strokes his thumb across your cheek, sparing a short glance for Hux, “you’ve been letting the general do all the work. Why don’t you show him how good you can be? How good you always are for me?”

Hux’s breath hitches. He likes the sound of that.

You smile wide at the thought, pressing a soft kiss to Ren’s unsuspecting lips. He stands quickly, turning back the way he came, but not before Hux catches the softest hint of a blush spreading across his temple.

You press against Hux’s torso, guiding him into a sitting position. He rests at the edge of the bed, chest thrumming as you straddle him, your thighs caging his hips against the mattress and your hands on his shoulders. Your fingers slip down his spine until you reach the hem of his undershirt. He stops you from untucking it with a hand on your wrist.

“I’d like to keep it on,” he knows you can feel the trepidation in his shaking hands; he sees the questions in your eyes, and for a moment he’s afraid, wondering if you also have your husband’s talent for picking thoughts from his mind—if you somehow know the way his stomach sinks at the thought of being totally uncovered.

“Alright,” you say, brushing past the pause, leaning closer to caress the ruddy skin of his chest with your lips, the glide of your tongue over his neck pulling any and every insecurity from his head. When you drag your hips over his, your bare cunt sliding deliciously over his dick, he forgets everything but his own name.

He’s not sure how it happens, whether it’s your hands or his own that finally pull his cock into the open air—he’s gone lightheaded, arms shaking as he grips the sheets in white-knuckled fists, focusing all the energy he can summon on keeping upright.

The head of his cock stutters against your entrance, the slick on your skin coating his own as you shift your hips back and forth with just enough pressure to keep him hard, letting out a delighted gasp when he twitches, the tip of him bumping up against your swollen clit.

“That’s enough teasing.” Ren stands behind you, one hand on your shoulder, the muscles in his other arm flexing as he pumps his cock in his hand more vigorously. You roll your eyes, turning to press a soft kiss to Ren’s chest before seating yourself fully on the general’s stiff cock.

The air punches from Hux’s lungs, his brow furrowed, breathing hard as he adjusts to the feeling.

Hux had spent plenty of time jealous of Ren, a kind of awed hatred that his greatest rival had so much of what Hux desperately wanted for himself. Power, glory, accolade. It's all dust compared to the way you envelop him on that first and divine thrust.

“Does he feel good, love?” Ren asks, peppering the skin of your shoulders with a few soft kisses before he tucks one finger under his chin, admiration in his eyes as he takes in your pleasure-soaked expression. “Is it everything you wanted?”

“Hmm,” you hum contentedly, circling your hips steadily, getting a feel for his length and size, squeezing him just right, “perfect.”

You speed up slightly, lengthening your strokes, pulling away from him until only the head remains inside before seating yourself down once again, trembling with each sublime impact, your thighs shaking with each movement.

“Just— Just like that,” Hux stutters, head lolling back, letting himself enjoy this. He likes it more than he thought he ever would—allowing someone else this kind of control, letting you set the pace. He wants you to feel good. He wants you to use him.

Ren looms over both of you, his chest flush with your back, the pressure from his body only heightening the gratification Hux feels.

You whine, pressing the general into the mattress, laying him flat on his back with your hands on your shoulders before you sit up, the deeper angle pulling cries from your lips like never before.

“Please, my love,” you press one hand back against Ren’s chest, fingers too limp to reach for him, but he already knows what you want. Hux watches as one of Ren’s giant hands encircles your neck, and he kisses you deeply, the tears that coat your cheeks glistening in the low light. It’s a mess of a kiss, all teeth and tongue, Ren so eager to please and you so desperate for pleasure.

“Gods— f-fuck,” Hux reaches his precipice sooner than he might have hoped, the sight of you so thoroughly fucked and writhing against Ren bringing him to a high he had not previously thought possible. You recognize his need, snapping your hips faster.

Ren removes his hand from your neck and slides it down over the damp skin of your stomach, pushing one thick finger to the space where your body meets Hux’s, sliding it between your folds.

“Cum for me,” he commands, working quick hard circles over your clit, “both of you. Cum for me now.”

You let go with one shattered breath, riding him through your release, fracturing over him with a scream. It’s celestial, this divine indulgence. There is no god in this universe but you and your magnificent cunt.

Hux abandons himself, spilling deep within you with a groan, every muscle in his body aching as his own climax finds him and his vision goes white. His heart leaves his chest, no other reason to beat now that he’s had this.

You fall into him, stroking one hand absentmindedly over his hair, your shaking bodies unable to do anything but breathe together. The slap of skin and soft grunts fills the room as Ren chases his own release, breath stuttering in his chest when he finds it, ropes of his thick, white cum painting down your spine and then he collapses, too.

Ren lands in a messy heap, half on top of you and half on the bed, smearing his own spend over his skin. Without warning, Hux finds Ren’s mouth against his own in a fierce, urgent kiss.

Hux waits for some kind of repulsion to overcome him, waits for the return of the burning hatred that normally occupies his chest whenever Ren is present, but it never comes, a different kind of burning taking his place. More than anything, he’s annoyed. Annoyed how good Ren’s mouth feels against his own. Annoyed that he wouldn’t mind if it happened again.

“There,” Ren says, rolling back on the mattress, relieving you of the weight of his body, “now both of you are mine.”

Hux scoffs, offended at the implication, but he can tell you notice the way his cock twitches inside of you at the thought. You smile knowingly, pressing a soft kiss to his temple as you roll off of him on the other side, the three of you lying together in the rosy-colored afterglow.

Minutes pass, or hours, Hux is unsure how many when he finally decides to move, his muscles stiff and aching.

“I should return to my quarters,” he says, lifting himself to his feet and reassembling the pieces of his uniform. You move to sit up, but Ren holds you in place with a gentle hand.

“Rest, love,” he says quietly, “I’ll show him to the door.”

Hux leaves you with one final kiss, one of longing, and hope and gratitude. Your fingers brush against his just before he leaves.

There’s an uncomfortable silence between the two men as they move through the abandoned living area.

“This doesn’t change anything,” Ren says as Hux stops just before the threshold, turning to look at him.

“I didn’t expect that it would,” he replies. Both men know that they’re lying to each other. And maybe, at this moment, while their skin is still warm from a shared love and the scent of your perfume lingers on both of their clothes, it’s a form of kindness to keep believing that this wouldn’t change their world. For now, this is enough.

Hux returns to his quarters, alone but not lonely. For the first time he can remember since he boarded the Supremacy, he sleeps through the night.

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nitannichionne · 4 years

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Secret of Sherlock Holmes (Henry Cavill Fan Fic Imagines)

“My mother has disappeared,” Sherlock says, entering his home. His strides are sure and precise as he goes to his study, the message in his hand. You take his coat and hang it. “Thank you.”

You follow him to his rooms. “Your mother disappeared?” you repeat, falling into step behind him. “Any idea on why?”

“That is the newest mystery.”

“Is Enola alright?” You stop right in front of him as he turns.

“I am sure she is fine,” Sherlock nods. “she sent the message, of course.”

“So you are going to see her,” you smile, but his is practiced and tight as he paces. The one thing you know about Sherlock is that he is always moving. If he is moving he is investigating and thinking. If he is sitting he is thinking and observing. But this is different. He is moving but there is no reason, and you realize he is struggling with going home.

“I am thinking about it,” he nods. “Mother does everything for a reason and Mycroft is Enola’s guardian. It’s not much of a case.”

“Enola sent for you.” You point out. “This is not a case, it’s a circumstance.”

“My missing mother is a case.”

“Circumstance.”

“Case.”

“Circumstance.”

He takes a breath. “How so?”

“You want to view this as a case, some sort of legal action. It is not.”

“Mother is missing—”

“I don’t believe she is in danger,” you say. “Neither do you.”

“Which means that there is no case, especially since Mycroft is there—”

“But there is a circumstance, and maybe a case,” you argue. “Your sister sent for you, because your mother’s disappearance is a fact that connects to Enola’s future which is circumstance, it is relevant to the coming days of her life. You know Mycroft is more like your father—”

It was a sore subject. “Don’t bring him into this.”

“Sherlock, you have to,” you argue. “you and I both know your mother taught you much before you left to make your way in the world-to observe and critically think.”

“As your mother did.”

You swallow hard. “She was a leader in the homeland, yes, but—”

“And she made you highly intelligent, therefore dangerous to men.”

“You just made my point. Men kill what they cannot conquer, one way or another, within or outside rules of law or society ,” you bite out, spreading your arms to present your maid’s uniform as evidence. “Your mother was banished by your father because she wanted to think for herself-still considered insane in these times-and he decided she was an addict, insane.”

“You don’t—”

“And you left as fast as you could, taking cases of the high society, picking out their criminals and knowing despite everything they show themselves to be, they are no better than anyone else, maybe worse.” You pause. “Your sister is in that danger with Mycroft, and you know it.”

“You were in danger when we met.”

“Exactly, and now I survive as Ms. Hudson’s assistant, but I can’t be much more, not in this society, not in a world like this, this one that’s made for you.” You pause, watching his eyes lower. “Your sister has a chance against Mycroft if you are there. That’s why she sent for you, her future is the case. He is like his father, a product of society, narrowing his intelligence. You are a product of education and intelligence, Sherlock.”

“So are you,” he argues, his blue eyes alight.

Your heart melts. The duel appears over, at least in this regard.

“What is it?” he asks with concern, walking up behind you.

“Do you know what they see?” you ask. “When they look at me.”

“What?”

“Clothes can be bought, education obtained, character and abilities inherited and taught.” you tell him. “I am dressed in the station that makes them most comfortable, but it is not who I am. They-they see a descendant of slaves, keep trying to treat me that way. I am also a woman, so they think I am weak.” You tell him, your throat tightening. “They will never see me as more than that and I have to remember--fight to remember-- who I am!”

“A lioness in a cage is still a lioness, my love.” He says gently.

“But the longer she is imprisoned, the less she is allowed to be her true self,” you shake your head. “In time others believe she is where she belongs, and tragically, she will forget who she is but what they see.” You shake your head as tears spring to your eyes. He takes your hands in his, brushing your knuckles with his lips. “I don’t want that. Enola doesn’t either. It’s not living, it is surviving, existing.”

He is quiet for a moment. “Want to know what I see?”

You swallow hard, turning away. “What?”

“I see a descendant of fallen kings and queens, of kidnapped chiefs and shaman,” he says gently. You hear the study door lock and your heart leaps. “I see that in the compassion and determination of your eyes, the grace under fire you hold when others fear your strength and resolve, your ability to love, protect and discern things in others. And yet, in all of it, you do not press advantage for the sake of gain, retain who you are.” He sighs, squeezing your shoulders and caressing your cheek with his. “I have always seen you on a throne, and I enjoy picking apart and exposing the corruption and lowliness of a delusional society that upholds repressing you.”

“I see you as my love,” you turn, blinking up at him, lost in the emotion of his blue eyes. It is a rarity, making it a gift you only see when you are alone.

“I see you as my love,” he echoes, pulling you into his arms. He lowers his head and kisses you, making your head swim, stopping the sad stream of past emotions from flowing with a river’s sweet taste of desire. The world swirled around you, it seems, but here, here, you are safe. We are safe, you think.

His hands are meticulous and methodical, making short work of undressing you. His kisses on your neck distract you as you feel the bow of your apron pulled apart in a single action and dropped to the floor. You return the favor, freeing him of his waistcoat and smoothing your hands over the crisply pressed shirt that barely hides his muscular chest. You unfasten the buttons of it and gasp at new bruises. “You have been fighting again?”

“It’s nothing.”

“They look fresh to me.” You kiss the scars, new and old, knowing that when he fights, it is an outlet for his anger, his frustration, especially if he cannot make it back to his rooms to see you, to talk and be together.

He turns you around, kissing your neck, unfastening the dress, and pulling it over your head along with your undergarment. He kisses the scars on your back even though they are old.

“They’ve long healed, Sherlock,” you chuckle softly, but this particular action touches your heart every time.

“They look fresh to me,” he says to you, his kisses cascading lower as he removes your underwear. You step out of them and cover your breasts self consciously. Your skin is brown, not the definition of beauty in the society you reside in, and though you know you are beautiful, you are seldom made to feel that way. Yet when you look in his eyes, he makes you feel beautiful for being who you are and what you look like. He picks you up and takes you to his room, laying you his bed so he can remove your boots and stockings. You watch him kiss your shapely and strong legs, and you like that he appreciates them. Your hard labor has sculpted them and you are not some dainty thing he must be careful of. You are so ready to wrap them around him, but his kisses trail up your inner ankle and to your knee, creating a delicious heat you cannot deny even if you wanted to. You squirm deliciously as his kisses pool hungrily at the apex of your legs, and your head falls back, allowing the pillow to support your head and trying not to scream.

He quickly undresses and you feel your excitement grow as he undresses. He was the most well-built intelligent man you’d ever seen. Finally naked with his erection seeming to grow by the second now that it is free, he joins you in bed, and presses you into the sheets. You kiss passionately, tongues mating and hands stroking and holding tight.

You give a whispered moan as he enters you, coming up on his elbows to cradle your upper body with his massive forearms. You appreciate his biceps as he gathers you close, his chest rising and falling with excitement as your legs wrap around him in welcome. Tears spring to your eyes as he surges and grows within you, each of you going still as if to just enjoy the union.

His eyes rise to yours and he begins to rock you, begin a steadying yet dizzying pace that makes you come almost instantly. He cries out softly, feeling you squeeze him, his blue eyes closing to savor and then reopening with renewed hunger. He pounds slowly, bring his length almost all the way out each time, and you both enjoy the long strokes, his repeated re-entry, but then passion takes hold and they become harder, shorter, needful. Your hips move with him as your fingertips dig into his back and he throws his head back, bucking harder as his eyes return to yours with increasing hunger. You work each other, kissing, clasping, stroking, the bed groaning softly under your moving weight until finally you both come together, panting and kissing, gasping as you throb around him, enticing more of his pulsing release. You gradually go still, and hold each other close.

He rolls to his back taking you with him, still embedded within you. His arms enfold you tighter now and your hands are free to comb through his tousled curls, now loose from exertion. His eyes look like the sea one finds on sandy white beaches and you think of home. You are welcome here, in his eyes, his embrace. His hand caresses your cheek and draws you down for another kiss.

“So I should go,” he whispers.

“You should go,” you tell him.

“See what the circumstances are and what I can do in the case of Enola Holmes.”

“That should be a lot,” you smile down at him. “You are, after all, Sherlock Holmes.”

He chuckles softly. “And you are my very own treasure.”

“A secret one at that,” you tease, but the light flickers in his eyes. “I shine for you.”

He holds you close and whispers, “And I carry you wherever I go.” He pauses. “I shouldn’t be long.”

“So you’re going?”

“I’m going.”

You hug him tightly. “I’m glad. I think she needs you.”

“I need you right about now.” He chuckles deeply, his member twitching inside of you.

“Elementary.”

“Elementary,” he purrs, drawing you down for another round.

I dedicate this to all the couples in human history who found love in a place that society frowned upon, with love stories taking decades and centuries to come to light though worthy of immediate note and acceptance. Still a long way to go...thanks.

@fckdeusername @maan24 @rn7rocks @kaatelyyynn

@mistress-of-ward @nuggsmum @messyinsomniacbookgirl @jencanbeyouryengeralt @sweetdreamsofgelato @maryann84 @omgkatinka @the-soot-sprite @viking-raider @keanureevesisbae @henryobsessed @summersong69 @kinbhot4henners @sunshine96love @michelehansel @radofrivia @thelastsock @michelehansel @tumblnewby @henryobsessed @defffcc @tenaciousneckpartypainter @rn7rocksn @mrskikkirazz @daydreamin83 @ruthoakenshield @musicartmayheminmyheart @michelehansel @tumblnewby @henryobsessed @defffcc @tenaciousneckpartypainter @rn7rocksn @mrskikkirazz @daydreamin83 @ruthoakenshield @musicartmayheminmyheart @mis-lil-red @kaatelyynn @forallthebrokenheartedthings @alphacancrii @fckdeusername @maan24 @rn7rocks @kaatelyyynn

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill sherlock #henry cavil fluff #superman geralt

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lettrespromises · 4 years

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LettresPromises informs you : you have one notification.

> Letter object : ‘La fable du crocodile et du flamant rose.’

@theastroooooworld sent a letter : ❝Hi, I hope I'm not bothering you! I really liked what you did for Mihawk and I would like to ask for a scenario in which Sir Crocodile fell in love (if it's possible with this man) with a woman s/o pirate who also has a crush on him, whom he often sees in meetings of the shichibukais. Only, the evil Doflamingo also wishes to have the reader by his side. Et sincèrement, j'ai adoré la lettre que tu m'as remise 🤭💙, 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙨 𝙨𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙙𝙚 𝙩𝙤𝙞 𝙚𝙩 𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙘𝙞 ��𝙖𝙗𝙚 🤪❤❞ author’s letter : ❝hello, you lovely human being! cam, you already know how sorry i am for being so late, and i apologize once more for taking so long. i do hope that this letter will make you crack a smile because i absolutely loved writing it!! sealed with a kiss, nikki. P.S: merci pour tout, t’es un ange, prends soin de toi aussi!!❞

Warnings : None, not even cursing, nothing. Genre : Fluff. Word count : 2.6K.

The aura emanating from each protagonist in this room was undoubtedly intoxicating— meaning that if a poor soul belonging to a rookie of the Marine were to step foot in the forbidden room, they would instantly bend under the invisible pressure created by the alliance of Shichibukais. In another context, and under different circumstances, the household names present in the vicinity could, metaphorically speaking, be considered as the embodiment of a guaranteed promotion if they were to be caught by the Marine all together. Unfortunately (or fortunately according to your point of view), the relationship between each Shichibukai and the Marine prevented anyone from daring to even nourish their hushed fantasies about capturing any of them for their own profit— they were pirates, they were fueled by the seven deadly sins, they had stains of blood on their hands and above all : they were untouchable. What a sweet, sweet paradox.

Some enjoyed this privileged status more than others, but amongst this group, all of them would think of the Marine each time they committed a crime— apparently, having the epitome of justice on their mind whilst accomplishing the dirtiest deeds humanity could think of made said deeds even more enjoyable as it was motivated by the impossibility of being reprimanded and thus, live a life filled by crime and sins.

But amongst their rarely mundane occupations, the Shichibukais still had to bend under the measures which came with their status, one of them being that their presence was mandatory to meetings to the top organized by the finest names of the high hierarchy of the Marine : Sengoku, Kizaru, hell, even Akainu despite his boiling hatred for pirates, the scum of Earth in his opinion.

The moments leading to the meetings were always the same — each protagonist would silently defy another one, the deafening silence squeezed between them would often hold interrogations or statements such as « what else have you accomplished since last time? », « I see I’m still superior. » or « My reputation shines the most between the two of us. » communicated through hushed laughters, a raised eyebrow or a smirk plastered upon someone’s facial expression. These moments were always both stuck in time, because of how heavy they felt, because the pressure emanating from each Shichibukai reached its apex, because the oxygen became almost rare due to the toxins lacing each word longing in the air, because of who these people were. And yet, they were your favorite moments because they were the most intriguing— an irresistible mix of passion and curiosity.

You were sitting between two of the biggest producers of this vivid aura of intimidation— Sir Crocodile on your right, and Donquixote Doflamingo on your left, in all, you cursed and blessed yourself at once for having chosen this spot. Truth be told, ‘chosen’ was an exaggeration. Allow me to tell you about this tale.

Each time a Shichibukai would enter the room, naturally, all eyes would be set on them. Judging stares, sometimes, glances which translated to « How come they are still alive? » or « Why are they still alive? » But when you stepped foot inside the meeting room, a new kind of tension spread through the room, and the two protagonists to blame both wore extravagant coats and had a sordid fascination for torture. They were gazes of envy, jealousy in its most vivid form, and silent questions hung in the air : « How come they aren’t mine yet? » Or statements like « I refuse to let this excuse of a man claim them, they are mine, and mine only. » (A statement, which, by the way, worked both in Crocodile and Doflamingo’s way.)

« My, my, my! Look at what the cat dragged in, ‘can’t say I’m complaining though, fufu. » The laughter itself was the signature of a maniac, which, needless to say, belonged to Doflamingo whose eyes were following your every move from his chair, his legs spread apart.

« Did you miss me that much since last time, Doflamingo? » You asked, as a form of rhetorical question, a fainted smile crept its way onto your face once the last syllables left your lips.

« I would be a liar if I said you didn’t occupy my mind these last few days, Y/N, and you should know how much I despise liars. » As the word ‘liar’ rolled off his tongue, his smirk faded away and instead, the emergence of a vein on his forehead was noticed as he reminisced the betrayals which stained his past.

You knew better than to interfere when Doflamingo dangerously crossed the line between moral and immoral, instead, you scanned the room to find a vacant seat to occupy. Perhaps next to Hancock? At least, you wouldn’t be bothered by the men here. Oh, but she was bound to drown you with stories regarding the man of her life, not the smartest choice. The seat next to Mihawk seemed like a good option as well, but he was not one for conversation and you would end up talking to yourself. Another choice would b—… « Y/N, I could not help but notice you were desperately looking for a seat to occupy. How convenient, the seat next to mine happens to be free. Of course, the choice is yours, I only took it upon myself to offer you the best option. » Oh, such a suave voice you could have recognized amongst a thousand voices.

This statement caused a chain reaction : your orbs were now focused on the beholder of these daring words, an amused grin stuck across your face; Doflamingo’s vein grew bigger as he caught the audacity coating Crocodile’s every word; Hancock’s palm hid a hushed laughter at the reaction of the blonde Shichibukai, Mihawk silently wished he could disappear. Enticed by his words, you start walking in his direction until a warm touch stops you in your tracks : upon closer inspection, it was a harsh grip on your wrist which belonged to Doflamingo who (now) combined both the raging vein on his forehead and his signature smirk, a duo made in hell. « Don’t be ridiculous, Crocodile-Man, Y/N knows, deep down, that I will take a way better care of them than you ever could, don’t you, lovebird? Fufufu. » And that, precisely, was the definition of ‘taunt’, a presentation of mankind’s most provoking aspects showed by Doflamingo.

Crocodile hushed his response, judging that entering Doflamingo’s mind games would the equivalent of handing him a victory he categorically refused to give him. A fit of smoke was blown, perhaps as a sign of exasperation, Crocodile was not keen on dragging this pseudo fight any longer— his hook circled around Doflamingo’s arm, and in a swift motion, your wrist was no longer the martyr of his tight hold. You couldn’t even gather enough time to bring your wrist to your chest that Crocodile’s large palm snaked around the same wrist and yanked it in his direction.

The aftermath of this motion was everything Doflamingo had once dreamt of, or rather feared in his most vivid nightmares— the sight of you, sitting on someone else’s lap. After all, wasn’t his lap welcoming? What did Crocodile have that he did not? It was infuriating, even more so because he could not seem to find the answer to this riddle, perhaps, in the worst case scenario, there was no answer in his favor and he was doomed to observe you sitting on your newfound throne. A vision of horror which made him frown and turn his smirk upside down, on the other one hand, Crocodile offered him his most victorious grin on a silver plate, a silent way to state his undisputed victory.

Crocodile’s hook was pointed in Doflamingo’s direction whilst his hand encompassed your waist— a clear and distinct switch in body language if you will : on one hand, the palm resting on your waist echoed to protection and desire to keep you closer to him, on the other one hand, the hook facing Doflamingo translated to a clear case of threat and perhaps even a way to dissuade him from tempting anything he might regret in a very soon future.

« It appears that victory is mine, wouldn’t you agree with me, Y/N? » Although Crocodile’s interrogation contained your name, it was directly targeted towards Doflamingo. « Don’t be fooled, the only person who won here is me. You’re bickering like kids while I’m getting all the attention, I can’t say I hate it. » You replied, the playful tone lacing your words matched with the grin spread across your face.

This not only signed Crocodile’s victory but also the beginning of the Shichibukai meeting, and almost every protagonist in this room had forgotten about the oh so important reunion— the distraction brought by the quarrel of hearts between Crocodile and Doflamingo seemed to have hogged all the attention of the spectators of this scene.

Sengoku made his way into the room, an intrigued expression on his face which was as clear as daylight, « Sir Crocodile, Y/N, you do realize there are other seats in this room? » he questioned, although he was wondering how the situation escalated until reaching this point. « I’m afraid it will not be necessary, Y/N has already claimed their seat themselves. » Crocodile stated, with the same ill intention to send toxic jabs in Doflamingo’s way whose vein grew bigger under the more-than-obvious indirect verbal blow. « He’s right, this isn’t too shabby. » Sengoku showed no sign of surprise whatsoever at your response, he was in a room full of the most dangerous human beings alive, what else could he expect from them?

And so the meeting went on, and on, and on. But Crocodile’s position remained still— his digits brushed against the bare skin of your arm, and from time to time, his glance would switch between your from Doflamingo’s enraged figure (who was clearly not listening one bit to anything Sengoku was saying) and yours. But whenever his orbs landed on you, Crocodile could not help but drink in your presence and admire each detail crafted by the Gods until he could remember each inch of your body with closed eyes. You were torn between paying attention to Sengoku’s formulas and battle tactics, because it was a part of your job as a Shichibukai, and let your subconsciousness take the lead and allow yourself to melt into Crocodile’s warm and intoxicating touch. Each time the brushing motions would cease, it felt like the aftermath provoked by drugs— you craved for it, you needed it, and he quickly understood the underlying orders to continue through your pleading eyes half-hidden by your lashes.

« … Thank you for attending this reunion, you’re all free to go now. » Sengoku announced to a semi-attentive crowd before leaving the room, followed by Mihawk, Jinbei, Hancock (who did not miss to send a wink your way upon leaving), Kuma and Moria. Isn’t luck a wonderful thing? Now it was only the three of us in the room.

Doflamingo stood up, to your surprise, as if he was ready to leave the room too. He dangerously reduced the space between the two of you as Crocodile brought you closer to his chest to balance the cruel lack of distance. For a few seconds, which seemed eternal, Doflamingo allowed his orbs to roam free on your figure, drinking your stance in for future memories. His genetically given long finger traced the edge of your jaw, malice fueling his every move : « I can assure you that I will see you very soon, lovebird, and this time, I won’t lose and you will be mine. Have fun while you still can, crocodile-man, fufufu! » His maniac laughter signed the end of his presence in this room, now it was only you and Crocodile.

Silence lingered for a bit, as a way to let the both of you soak in the glory or the horror, depending on your sense of perception, of the events which had taken place earlier on. You were now the sole holder of all of his attention, and being the two only protagonists in the room offered the privacy Crocodile had secretly begged for since the arrival of Doflamingo. « Say, Y/N, would you really want to be his? » He asked although he was not really asking sincerely, taking another drag of his cigar as he awaited for your answer.

You brought your thumb and index right underneath your chin to fake a sense of interrogation, but the answer had already been stuck on your mind since you laid your eyes on Crocodile : « Mhm, I wonder… I mean, Doflamingo is pretty handsome if you ask me. What do I win if I choose you? » The faked innocent tone of your voice drew a harsh contrast with the importance of the question, but oh well, he had already noticed that. « Well, first of all, he will never kiss you quite like I do. »

If it was even possible, Crocodile reduced even more the space between the two of you until your respective chests were touching, his hook was delicately applying the pressure needed on the small of your back to keep you steady. Before respecting the rules of performative language, he admired once more the traits adorning your face and that’s when he realized that none of the paintings he owned could ever compared to the masterpiece of details and panorama of shades that were your face, he just hit jackpot.

His finger lingered just where Doflamingo’s digits used to be a few seconds ago, as a way to re-claim his territory and leave his imprints for good. Amused, Crocodile concluded his journey of touches by letting his palm rest right on your cheek in a way that his fingers could meddle with your hair behind your ear. Your lids shut close in response to his touch, already anticipating the explosions of sensations which was bound to come. And there, at this very moment, the explosions were set free and turnt into a myriad of fireworks— his lips crashed against yours and everything around you felt hot : your lips, his intoxicating touch, the sparks in your belly, you felt like a living volcano caught in eruption. His lips were perfectly molding against yours, as if they were made to melt against yours, like poetry in motion, if you will. Crocodile wasted no time and deepened the kiss, tilting his head in the process, you were breathless but you were willing to give up on air if it meant you could rest your lips on his until being persuaded of seeing stars.

To your surprise, he was the one who broke the kiss— don’t be fooled, his lungs hadn’t failed him yet, he was just dying to see your face contorted under the desire for more lingering touches and kisses. He couldn’t help but allow a chuckle to break free from his lips at the sight he was waiting for, or rather, the sight which confirmed his thoughts. « I shall take it as you belong to me now, and I’m positive you do not see anything wrong with this, my treasure. » And he concluded his sentence with yet another kiss planted on your lips, he was finally at peace with his feelings, knowing he had you now.

Moral of the story : never linger on an uncharted territory for too long while claiming loud and proud that you want to make this territory yours, the crocodile will always strike first.

#crocodile x reader #one piece x reader #sir crocodile x reader #one piece #one piece imagines #op #op imagines #one piece fluff #one piece hcs #op headcanons #op fics #one piece fic #sir crocodile #crocodile op #crocodile imagine

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raleighliving · 4 years

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Pros and Cons of College Life in Raleigh

Last time I wrote about colleges in Raleigh generally and how it’s not like other college towns. This time, I’m gonna be speaking a bit more about the pros and cons so it should be a little more specific.

Before that, however, I wanna make this clear: Raleigh is not somewhere you should move to for college unless the school you’ve applied to is your dream school.

In terms of academics, there are better choices than NC State or WPU. If you wanna study biology or medicine, schools like UNC-W or Duke would probably be a better fit for instance. If you live in Raleigh, don’t pick a school just because it’s close; if you live in another part of the states and you want to attend an east coast school there are options all along the east coast that you should consider.

Raleigh is a great place to live and work, and there are plenty of friendly people here; but a degree from the right university can make or break your career (depending on the field and other aspects of course).

As a person suffering from anxiety, the question “Do you want the good news or bad news first” has always been a terrible one for me. Up until I hear the bad news, it could be literally anything regardless of what the person asking was doing or how much of the task they were on I’m familiar with.

Similarly, living in Raleigh (or really anywhere for that matter) is going to present a lot of subjective pros and cons. Please keep in mind this is gonna be super subjective, but I hope you enjoy reading this even if we disagree.

But you didn’t come here to read three paragraphs of disclaimer. So lets start by listing the good stuff.

Raleigh is a city full of vibrant color, culture, and cool shit. You can find cool things almost anywhere you look, regardless of where you are in Raleigh. I mean, all of the pictures (including those in this article) I use for this blog I’ve taken in Raleigh or nearby it. As a result, the first pro has got to be the beltline highway system.

The beltline is a highway system composed of I-440, I-40, and parts of I-540 that encapsulates all of Raleigh. It connects north and south Raleigh while having downtown in the center, letting travelers easily reach nearly any part of Raleigh.

I’ve lived on the border of Durham, Cary, and Rolesville at different points in my life. I’ve had to make trips to Garner and Apex for various reasons. At no point in my 20+ year stay have I ever had to make a city trip that lasted longer than a half-hour (one way). It makes working in Raleigh especially easy, since the abundance of highway access points and the convenience of the loop design means I’m never too far from that loop.

It even helps with adjusting to your new environment if you move here (for school or other reasons) since if you’re ever lost, the highways can act as a point to re-orient yourself by. I know I’ve had to do it plenty of times in the past, and it can really save you from looking like an idiot if you excuse your lost-ness by just saying “Oh yeah mate, I was just tryna get on the highway. Saves so much time.”

Does this mean Raleigh has the best transportation network of any city? Hell no. Does this mean that Raleigh has the best highway system? Not even close. But it’s still super nice, especially for students. You’ll run into the problems any urban place has like rush hour or crash delays, but this is mitigated by the fact you’ll be using it for our second pro: Everything happens in Raleigh.

Well, not EVERYTHING everything but as I’ve ranted about before; there’s plenty to do and see in the city of Raleigh (even if you’re a student).

For instance, according to raleighnc.gov, Raleigh is home to over 200 public parks. Not a fan of parks? Into more electronic entertainment? Then visit our very own “Arcade of Thrones” downtown and get your game on with your fellow nerds

Boring stuff like restaurants and night clubs aside, Raleigh is home to literally thousands of businesses and social clubs for you to partake in. Farmers markets, gun and knife shows, fishin’ holes and public church barbecues are available for that classic southern charm; but don’t forget to make use of our barcades, art festivals, concerts, comedy clubs and sport centers.

The only reason why I’m not going into more detail about examples like First Friday, the downtown cultural festivals, PNC arena or other more specific events is because I want to write about them in-depth in the future.

Of course, students having things to do and places to go is only part of the college experience. If you’re gonna come to Raleigh for college, the best pro I could possibly mention is the support network.

Not to say that we’re exactly all one big happy family here, but in Raleigh you get that nice blend of metropolitan city life with your rural state. Orgs like the LGBT Center, Goodwill, Raleigh Missions, and more support locals in need constantly and provide for the many different groups around here.

Libraries and civic centers share the same city as mosques and churches which neighbor women's shelters and LGBT+ advocacy groups. If you’re a republican or democrat, that’s fine but be prepared to meet the other members of the political spectrum since groups like the Democratic-Socialists of America (DSA) are active downtown as well.

If you need help or want to help others, there’s a 98% chance that you’ll find someone or something out there that meets your needs. Join a community through Facebook or Nextdoor and you’ll see every diaper drive, garage sale, and community recommendation pop up whenever one is needed.

Of course, this brings us to our first con. Raleigh may be home to some of the nicest people I’ve ever met but it doesn’t mean you won’t run into some problem people sooner or later.

There’s of course the typical collegiate douchebags, the upper-middle class young scions of no import who fumble through life with no regard for others because mommy and daddy will perpetually care for them, but being a red state you’ll also run into the more colorful republicans.

Every year there’s an anime convention called “Animazement” downtown and every year there’s a small herd of fundamentalist Christians warning all the otaku who’ll listen that they’re going to hell. Drive around town long enough and you’ll find a few different businesses that have made their opinions on things like masks and social distancing clear, not to mention there’s no shortage of QAnoners and alt-right sympathists.

Of course, you shouldn’t let others dictate the quality of your life or the area you live in but you should be aware that these people exist. Raleigh is more liberal than other parts of North Carolina for sure but it’s not the leftist paradise those other parts would say it is.

Other than the coinflip that is neighbors, Raleigh is kind of a pricy place to live. The cost of living is on average higher than other cities in the US, cheaper still than New York of Californian cities, but pricey nonetheless.

Rent in Raleigh for a one bedroom apartment is on average $975 according to bestplaces.net and can go as high as $1200 depending on the complex and location.

That, with a federal minimum wage of $7.25 an hour, means you’ll need

>Multiple jobs >Multiple roommates >A good paying job

or any combination of the two to be able to afford rent, utilities, and food beyond cup ramen. There’s housing programs like Section 8 and military housing initiatives to help, but for students you’re looking at some pretty steep housing costs for anywhere that’s not student dorms.

You can get a good job that pays decent, of course, nothing’s impossible. However, finding one that won’t require roommates would demand full time hours (which might be difficult to make on student scheduling) or a degree (which you’re probably at college to get). Most living spaces require you make at least 3x the advertised rent to even be considered as well, which may limit students to seedier student living complexes like University Village or The Proper (Formerly Vie, formerly wolf creek).

Finally, if you move to Raleigh for college be prepared to drive. A lot.

As I mentioned earlier, the beltline is a god send for students and people looking to explore; but it’s also practically mandatory for moving around Raleigh. Public transit in Raleigh isn’t non-existent but it’s pretty damn close.

Live between 10-15 minutes from your desired destination? Taking the bus is gonna be anywhere from half an hour to a full hour, and that’s if you even live near a bus route. If you’re like myself and habitually on the edge of Raleigh, be prepared to drive for a bit before you even see a GoRaleigh bus let alone a stop.

The buses do at least run pretty late (Closing normally around 11PM), but the lack of public transit lines and bike-able roads means that you’ll be adding to the urban congestion more likely than not.

Okay with driving? Hope you’re okay with paying another arm and a leg, because at most schools down here tuition doesn’t cover your parking pass.

NC State prices range from $105 to over $400 depending on your credit hours and where you’re staying at. Other schools like William Peace only charge a flat $130 for their parking decal, but most of the schools require you throw them an extra Apple Pencil or two for the privilege of being able to park your own vehicle close to the actual campus.

There are workarounds, like parking off-campus nearby, but those carry risks and penalties that can add up over time. The audacity these schools have to take thousands in tuition and then demand that you pay and additional fee to just use the parking lot.

Hopefully, though, regardless of my thoughts if you live in Raleigh or North Carolina in general and you’re considering attending one of the fine establishments here; I’ve provided you some food for thought.

College can be a scary experience for many, and the area around it can really make or break your experiences. We don’t have the biggest party schools or the most glamorous cityscape; but if I had to go through the collegiate system again I honestly couldn’t imagine doing it anywhere else.

Next time I’ll be talking about some alternatives to College though, so stay tuned for that.

Special shout out to the DSA of Raleigh as well. They didn’t help write any of this or communicate with me during the production of this article, but they’ve been doing some amazing work downtown with the homeless during the pandemic. They are some of the most amazingly hard working individuals who care immensely for the community and you can check them out on dsanc.org.

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btshodown · 6 years

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Prey For Me

↳ “Having an addictive personality got you into a lot of trouble sometimes; from having alcohol poisoning to something simple like throwing yourself into new kdramas a little too aggressively. So bringing in a strange hybrid into your apartment to “help him” was no different. Only you had no idea what storm you just dragged yourself into. He was only supposed to stay the night.”

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Genre/Warnings: Sour candy that’s sweet in the inside, sprinkled with some crack. Hybrid AU, detailed mentions of violence and blood. Possible future smut in later chapters. Rating: PG13 Word Count: 6.5k

➭ Why must I do this to myself at 2 am...anyways yeah, this finally came out after months of contemplation. I was going to originally make it a giant one-shot, but I was exhausting myself with that goal so I’ve decided to just make it a mini series. Please let me know your thoughts! :)

The cadence of people cheering and betting surrounds you, tempting like a siren’s call to join in on the intoxication of gambling, but you resist with ardor. You were no fool and were well aware that if you gave into that lull, you would never see the light of day. Unfortunately for you, you had a very addictive personality and once something entered your life; your inhibitions got easily swept away with the roaring current.

I’m a good noodle; I’m a good noodle…

A quick yelp rips from your throat as suddenly the body of a sweaty, drunk man is pushed onto you; were it not for the strong grip on your waist appearing to pull you away, you would have no doubt you’d be pinned to the floor by the barely coherent man.

“Hey man, be careful!” your ears ring at the boisterous laughter surrounding you before the deep timbre of your companion’s voice enters your ears in a soft lilt of concern. “Y/N? You good?”

One blink, two, three blinks and the ringing in your ears slowly melts to allow your coherency to finally reemerge; along with your annoyance. “I’d be hell of a lot better if my ass was planted on that indent on the couch I made while watching Game of Thrones and stuffing my face with that leftover Pad Thai!”

Taehyung releases his own soft yelp as your hand swipes at his bicep, your eyes pinning him with a glare only a disturbed homebody could give. Were it not for his damn conniving personality and honey coated lies about accompanying him to a “private” event he got invited to, you would have never left the safety of the blanket cocoon you had painstakingly buried yourself in. But you had stupidly gave in to his whining and pleading, managing to even feel pity for the devious bastard; well boo-boo the fool you, cause you got played.

The “private” event was code for “underground-illegal-hybrid-MMA-fighting”.

You had to admit to yourself that you were no hardcore hybrid supporter; you didn’t risk your safety to attend the protests on their rights or freedom, but that didn’t mean you enjoyed watching them suffer. Staying silent on the matter whenever it was brought into debates was your only sin.

“Oh come on, y/n, I already told you that I had no idea it was a hybrid MMA,” Taehyung ignores your petulant pout, not caring for his safety from your wrath as he slings a long arm around your shoulders; effectively maneuvering you toward some benches that faced the netted platform of the ring. To his benefit, he seemed like he was trying to reassure himself as well; Taehyung was more outspoken about his distaste on how hybrids were treated after all. “I know it might seem a bit…sketchy, but from what I just heard, the hybrids do this of their own free will. They don’t seem to be forced into it.”

A huff leaves you as both of you take a seat on the edge of the bench and quickly cross your arms in an effort to make yourself small to avoid anyone bumping into you. “And you believe them? When this whole thing is illegal?”

Your companion only offers a sheepish half grin and small shrug of his shoulders as an answer; leaving you to roll your eyes and focus on the ring in front of you just as the lights dimmed around you. The cacophony of the audience rose to a higher decibel as the only lights shining were on the platform as the announcer walked into the fencing to begin the matches. While Taehyung kept looking on in a mixture of unease and concern for the hybrids fighting, you couldn’t stomach staring at the matches, so you opted to focus on the ground in front of you. Though that did nothing to stop your wincing every time you heard a particularly loud crack of fists or kicks followed by a grunt of pain; just how the hell was this voluntary? This was so much worse than boxing in your opinion; MMA fighting didn’t have gloves to cushion the aftershocks of their punching and kicking was also an added element that only caused more pain. This wasn’t even counting the fact that they weren’t completely human and therefore stronger physically; their hits were a lot more lethal.

Finally the last match was announced as you sadly watched them carry out what was supposed to be a Doberman hybrid, now bloody and bruised beyond recognition from the panther hybrid he was up against. Just how was that fair? They purposely pitted the poor male against an apex predator who obviously had greater strength and quicker reflexes; it didn’t take you long to realize the matches were fixed for those gambling. You were just glad that the last match was about to happen because you knew you couldn’t take much more of this; the whole scene caused revulsion to slowly churn in your belly.

“And finally the match you have all been anticipating!” The announcer looks a touch from smug as the crowd roars with excitement, your stomach clenching suddenly with apprehension. “Give it up to our reigning queen of MMA; Abaddon!”

Your mouth falls open slightly as the name itself prompted you to look up and you were met with a beautiful, tall woman with bright orange hair that she was nonchalantly wrapping up in a bun. Clad in only a sports bra and spandex shorts, her impressive muscles were out in proud display and it was easy to see just why she was called the queen, that wasn’t even mentioning how her aura exuded jaded confidence in a way only a tigress could. Her rounded ears atop her head barely twitched from the noise, no doubt accustomed to it, while her tail swayed in what seemed to be boredom; there was no misgiving that she rightfully earned the name Abaddon: a fallen angel of death whose name literally means “to destroy.” Just what poor soul was being pitted against her?

Once the crowd settled down, the announcer gained a gleam in his eyes as he continues on. “And just who is going to face off our tigress queen? This fighter has been climbing his way from the bottom and just might give our champion a run for her money; give it up to Ares!”

If you believed the woman before you had been intimidating, the male walking into the ring made you rethink your previous judgement. The crowd made little noise, though whether it was due to disdain or wonder at the sculpture of a man, you weren’t sure, but he surely now had your undivided attention. Despite wearing the same outfit of just shorts like the other male fighters, the hybrid before you did the material more of a service as his lithe figure is stacked with bulging muscles. His stomach is impressively cut with abs and his thighs and legs are thick with power; even his face looks strong with a sharp jaw and furrowed brows. Despite his strong presence however, there was an underlying boyish softness to his face that captured your heart; your eyes couldn’t stop their gazing at his warm, brown doe-like eyes and his asymmetrical pink lips.

A breath gets stuck in your chest as those brown eyes quickly roam over the crowd, eliciting a crooked grin before he turns back over to his opponent and flattens his long grey ears with a sneer. It isn’t until you see his ears move that you realize with dawning horror that they pitted a rabbit hybrid with a fucking tiger. Sure, his muscles were impressive, mainly his legs which should have been a giveaway to what animal he was infused with, but he was still a prey animal up against a damn apex predator; your heart squeezes painfully imagining a worse fate for him than the Doberman from before.

You wanted to look away, to tell Taehyung to take you home this instant because surely you were going to witness a murder with how fiercely the tigress was eyeing the male, but something kept you silent. Maybe it was sick fascination to watch Ares fighting and see if those muscles on his back would tense deliciously like you were imagining, or perhaps it was that softness beneath his strong features that tugged at your heart, you weren’t certain which it was yet.

The silence that hangs in the air is thick with tension and bloodlust, something even the announcer seemed keen on leaving. With a quick cut down motion with his hand, the announcer quickly turns and locks the cage door behind him as swiftly as his human legs could carry him; right on time as well since the two hybrids wasted no time in lunging at one another. It was like nothing you had ever seen before, the two of them looked more like they were performing a deadly dance; with each swing of limbs the other was always quick to dodge or block. The scene absentmindedly reminded you of capoeira; they were almost speaking to one another with how they moved and their eyes shone with excited violence.

Even the normally boisterous audience was captivated by the fight, bated breath waiting to be released with the promise of the first hit, which comes with a painful crack of skin and a grunt. Your heart lurches into your throat as your hands wring together, feeling sick as you witness Ares wipe a stream of blood from his brow, but it doesn’t take him long to swiftly feign left before spinning on his right leg to land a powerful kick to Abaddon’s open side. The crowd finally comes to life at the two hits and the cacophony of their delight drowns out the loud smacks of skin, but your heartbeat stubbornly continues to be louder.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed you by, too enraptured by the male who fought with a viciousness that spoke of fearing failure; you could see it with every clench of his jaw when he got hit and the refusal to fall to the floor even as the tigress continues to try. Ares is quick on his feet and with each step he almost seemed to bounce, something that no doubt was brought on by his animal half, and with how the woman bared her teeth, you knew she was having a hard time cornering him. She was moving like fire, unpredictable in a methodical way that sang of years of practice and instinct; her plan was easy to distinguish the more you watched and you knew that if she managed to knock the male hybrid to the floor, it was all over.

Only a few seconds had passed, and even staring without blinking had you almost missing the moment the tigress wrapped her tail around his ankle and pulled; the heavy bang of his body hitting the floor reverberated throughout your ribs. The hush in the room didn’t last as a soft snarl is heard, the blur of the woman’s body seen mid leap before she’s descending on the poor male with her claws out. Amidst the violent cheering of the crowd, you unknowingly let out a terrified scream the moment the first fist is thrown to his stomach and don’t realize your standing until you feel Taehyung gently nudge your arm in concern.

You weren’t sure if it was your delusions from worry, but for a brief second you locked eyes with Ares the moment you had screamed, watching with wide eyes as he gazed at you with slight muddled wonder. It only lasted a second, but it was enough to have your heart pound painfully against your chest as you gaze at the way the tigress unleashes her fury on his body with horror; not able to look away for the fear that she’ll truly kill him right now. His grunts and snarls are soft, being held back by pride, but soon a loud yelp escapes his mouth as blood is drawn on his chest from where the woman dug her claws in.

“She’s going to kill him,” your voice comes out in a breath of dread before you quickly reach out to your friend and feel the desperation trying to breach your throat, “she’s going to kill him Tae! Can’t someone stop her?!”

Taehyung’s voice is choked with sympathy and something else as you both watch Ares try to curl in on himself to lessen the hits. “Death isn’t an illegal thing here, y/n. It’s usually encouraged.”

You decide that in this moment, you truly hate your friend for bringing you to this shithole, forced to watch as this woman tries her hardest to kill the poor hybrid beneath her for the infamy; you’ll never let Tae know that though. Despite the small amount of resentment you feel for being brought here, you know that you’ll eventually forgive him. Just not right now as you watch Ares’ eyes take longer to open with each blink and feeling your heart crumble as small streams of blood run down his face and body. You weren’t sure what deity out there would hear you, but you begin to frantically pray that they’ll do something, anything to stop the fight; if not you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from running in there yourself.

You just didn’t realize that your prayer would be answered so abstractly.

“Cops!” the shout was faint and easily drowned by the roaring of the crowd, but you turn your head for a second as you spot a wide-eyed man running toward the ring. It isn’t until he bravely flings himself onto the wires of the cage to rattle it, causing the tigress to pause and snarl at the man, that the audience realizes what it is he’s screaming louder than before. “COPS!”

The change is instantaneous, leaving you to stand absentmindedly watching Ares’ fallen body as Abaddon gracefully leaps to the top of the cage and jumps out; there was a man with an expensive suit waiting for her already and quickly escorts her out of sight. Even your shoulders getting hit and shoved as people scramble out of the building like panicked ants isn’t enough to have you avert your eyes or your racing thoughts; no one was coming to get Ares.

It isn’t until you feel a violent tug on your arm do you refocus to the present, the yells of the dispersing crowd finally reaching your ears as does Taehyung’s shouts of alarm and panic. “Come on y/n! We have to go!”

Your body finally moves, only it isn’t in the direction your companion anticipated as your feet maneuver through the throng of people to reach the cage; it took zero convincing on your part to decide what to do. You aren’t going to leave the hybrid in the hands of the police and abandon him, even if you had to drag him to your apartment on your own.

“Y/n! Y/n! What are you – seriously?!”

You ignore Taehyung’s frantic shouts as he follows you through the crowd, not pausing once to check if the police were already inside the building, too worried that if you did it would cost you time you didn’t have. With your heart pounding in your ears and the adrenaline coursing through you, you yank the door open to the cage and run inside, sliding onto your knees to quickly check the man’s pulse. However, the moment your fingers touch the sweat covered skin, a big hand quickly wraps around your wrist and pulls a yelp from your throat; the hybrid had opened one eye and was glaring at you tiredly. Even as bloody and exhausted as he was, he could still stay aware enough to try and fend someone off; though you doubted that even as strong as he was, he could fight you right now.

“Hey,” you croak out as you try to stop the shaking in your hand which was still being squeezed in his grip, “I know that you won’t trust me, but the police are here – we have to get you out before they get you.”

It was at this moment that you saw something not many people probably got to see, this strong man turning into a small, hurt boy as his eye loses that glare to adopt one of fear. You’re sure that he didn’t need an explanation as to why the cops finding him alone was a bad thing; all his life was running away from the law as there was no doubt he was an unbound hybrid – no one coming to take him away like they did with Abaddon was enough proof. It was also in this moment that you vow to not mention that second of unadulterated vulnerability to anyone.

Ares closes his eye for a second, before opening it again to give you a small nod as he begins to stand with your hands grabbing onto his waist and arm. Time seems to move again as you look up to see Taehyung rushing over, cursing loudly as he hurriedly slings Ares’ arm over his shoulder and starts sprinting out. You gasp in breaths and try to keep up with the sudden movement, making sure to clutch onto the hybrid to assure you wouldn’t fall on your ass. It isn’t until the three of you burst through some emergency exit that you chance a look behind you, watching with wide eyes as men in uniform flash lights in your direction with shouts for you to stop.

With a slam of the door, the light is gone, but your speed continues the same as you all scramble over to your mini SUV; which for once you are so incredibly happy you stuck around with it as opposed to a smaller car. Ares would actually fit in it for one. You throw a soft apology to the man as Tae all, but threw him across the back seat and slams the door before hopping into the passenger seat.

“Drive y/n! Drive like you’re in the Fast & Furious Tokyo Drift!”

“I never watched that one! I heard it was sad!”

“This is isn’t the time y/n! Just do as Rihanna sang; shut up and drive!”

Despite your words, you’re quick to turn on the engine and press your foot on the gas pedal, the squealing of tires drowning out your heartbeat as the hidden building gets smaller on your rearview mirror.

Labored breaths is all you hear for a few moments as you get farther away from the warehouses, your heartbeat slowing down enough for you to realize the weight of what you just did. What the hell were you going to do with a hybrid? As much as you wouldn’t mind sheltering the man, you couldn’t ignore the fact that he’s a stranger and to top it off, dabbled in illegal fights. He could kill you the moment he gets an opening for all you know, and yet…seeing him fight with so much determination only to get beaten, it caused a painful thrum in your chest. Maybe your impulsive behavior could get you hurt, but there was something in his eyes that made you want to believe he’d never lay a hand on you.

“What the fuck,” the voice is soft and breathy, before you realize its Taehyung as soon as his tone rises. “Y/n, what the fuck!”

You visibly cringe as you can feel his disapproving scowl from your seat, but for safety and your own embarrassment, you don’t turn around. There’s no point in questioning what he meant with his declaration; you know exactly what he’s so shocked about. With his shouting though, you’re quick to adjust your rearview mirror, afraid that Taehyung’s shouting somehow offended your surprise guest; but to your relief, the male hybrid seemed to be sleeping from exhaustion.

“I know the situation isn’t ideal –”

“There’s an MMA hybrid in the backseat!”

“I couldn’t leave him!”

You feel Taehyung’s stare of pity and disbelief as you bite the inside of your cheek, your eyes automatically flicking up to the rearview mirror to watch the rise and fall of the hybrid’s chest. “I know it’s stupid and I just opened a can of worms…but Tae I couldn’t leave him,” your voice is a soft whisper as the glow of the streetlights finally breaks out from the darkness of the sketchy streets you left behind.

Silence once again permeates the air as Taehyung simply slumps into his seat, his expression a weird mixture of understanding and annoyance. You’re not quite sure what your friend is thinking and at the moment you aren’t in the right state of mind to pry in concern; although you do feel guilty for the impulsive decision you made. You didn’t live alone and Taehyung’s disapproval only made sense since he would have to put up with your impulsivity; you just hope he wouldn’t stay angry with you for too long. Plans of making him his favorite food and desserts to lessen the blow of having an unknown hybrid crash in your shared space begin to enter your mind as the route to the space in question becomes familiar again.

It isn’t long before you finally reach your apartment, the silence still hanging between you two as you make sure none of your neighbors are out to see Taehyung carry a bloody hybrid on his back. The trek to the elevator is done in stiff silence as your eyes continue to roam over the lobby to make sure no one is about to catch the three of you, and it isn’t until you see the metal doors close in front of you that you let out a breath. Your apartment was the first door once getting off the lift, so walking to it without being seen won’t be as big of an issue.

Just as the elevator begins its ascent, you let your eyes slowly glance over to your right discretely, watching with a small, worried frown at how blank Taehyung’s expression is. After nearly two years living with your best friend, you knew better than anyone that when the normally boisterous male was quiet and expression a clean slate, he was angry or very irritated. What you didn’t know was why. You get it, you made a very stupid decision in risking your safety for the hybrid slumped on his back, but surely he could sympathize on why you did; more so when he was the more active voice in their rights. It wouldn’t be a permanent situation in your life (you imagined) and suppose once the hybrid healed, he’d finally forgive you.

The sudden shift and sound of the doors chiming break you out of your guilt plagued thoughts, but with Tae walking briskly to your apartment door only serves to gnaw at you. He definitely was angry. With a sharp look from him, you’re quick to scramble to the door and push the keys into the lock to finally let all of you into your shared home. Although, you can’t hide a wince and a soft, stern “careful” falling from your lips as your friend practically dumps Ares’ body onto the couch without a care.

After hanging your keys on the mount by the door and dumping your jacket on the bar counter, you take quick steps over to the small L shaped couch; making quick work in rearranging the hybrid onto the lounge section of the sofa for more of a comfortable position. Once satisfied that he won’t wake up sore, you hesitate before running a hand on the fading bruises on his skin, feeling wonder fill you at how quickly he was already healing. Despite the blood staining his abdomen and chest, the gashes themselves already seemed to be closing and well to the point of recovering. All you really needed to do was simply clean the blood and grime, along with waiting for his body to recuperate with sleep.

With hope spilling into your ribs, you turn to call Tae to help you gather supplies, only to see an empty living room and kitchen, with the door to the hallway and bedrooms slightly ajar as an indicator that he probably already went into his room. Guilt and worry once again begins to wrap around your heart while your stomach churned at the thought of him truly hating you for this. A sigh escapes you, but you grimace as you stand up, ignoring the stiffness in your limbs as you walk over to the small kitchen and grab the large bowl you usually use to mix your desserts, carefully covering the interior with clear wrap. Once done, you fill it up with some warm, soapy water and open a drawer to take out one of your kitchen towels before making your way back to the couch.

The more you cleaned his naked torso, the more bewitched you felt as each swipe of the bloodied rag shows perfectly carved abs and pecs, leaving you with an embarrassing burn in your core. Shame floods you with each lustful thought that came barging into your mind, trying your hardest to ignore the flame in the pit of your belly getting hotter with each second that passed. Honestly, is this man somehow a deity in disguise? His muscles were ridiculously defined and large; it was getting harder to control your wild thoughts.

Come on girl, get a hold of yourself. The man is hurt and unconscious! With a sigh you close your eyes and exhale softly to gather back your wits before finishing. Appreciating your hard work, you let your eyes fixate on the nasty gashes on his stomach and the yellowing bruises over his face. With a nod, you make a quick decision as you grab the bowl filled with dirty water and the rag, quickly cleaning up the supplies before returning with a small container of antibacterial ointment; no doubt he was healing just fine, but your worry wouldn’t let you walk away without providing him some relief.

As you delicately spread the ointment on his wounded skin however, the man shifts in his sleep suddenly and it has your breath and movements stilling in tense silence as you watch him carefully; but he simply turns onto his side and curls up, no signs of having been disturbed. Your breath leaves you slowly as your gaze softens; once more witnessing his features smooth over to show just how young he truly is. He couldn’t be older than Taehyung, perhaps younger now that you’re witnessing his guard completely lowered in sleep to show that glimpse of a young man you had seen back at the ring. Just how did he get mixed in with such a horrible way of surviving? Surely rabbit hybrids must be amongst the top adopted hybrids alongside the dog and cat mixes, so why is it that Ares found himself having to fight to stay alive?

“I’m sorry,” your voice is merely a whisper, the words having no destination and settle instead in the air between you two as you continue to watch Ares sleep soundly. Even you were unsure as to why you felt like apologizing. For how badly his life must be? For having been abandoned at that warehouse? For being alone? Who knew, certainly you didn’t, but with those thoughts plaguing your mind you stand up and drape your throw blanket on his figure before making your way to your room.

You spare a concerned glance over to your friend’s closed door and note with disappointment that there is no light fighting to get out through the bottom of his door; his room completely dark. With a small shake of your head, you gently close your door and get ready for bed; silently throwing a hopeful wish for tomorrow to not be a disaster once the hybrid awoke.

Your wish seems to have landed in the trash as you stare blankly at the scene before you late the next morning; Ares is awake and clutching onto one corner of the blanket you covered him in, glaring venomously at Taehyung who’s also tugging on the other end of the cotton with his own ferocious scowl at the hybrid. No words were being exchanged, but the air is thick with animosity and testosterone, leaving you shell-shocked at witnessing your goofball of a best friend suddenly look so…animalistic. Just what random parallel universe did you drop into? As if realizing your impulsive behavior with the hybrid wasn’t disorienting enough, now you also have to deal with Taehyung suddenly becoming an ass?

With a sigh and a glance at the clock mounted on the wall beside you – it was only 10 am – you’re quick to walk over to the two males, snatching the blanket from both of them. Two sets of eyes quickly snap to you, one annoyed, but apologetic; and the other narrowed in hostility. You try your best to give Ares a small, but sincere smile before turning to Taehyung and smacking his arm, giving him a scowl of disapproval.

“Just what on earth are you doing, you walnut? Why are you picking fights with our guest so early, especially after how last night went?”

Your brown haired roommate only whines at your annoyance and is quick to wrap his long arms around your shoulders in a dramatic fashion; you didn’t miss how he oddly rubbed his cheek on your own. “Please don’t be mad at me eomma! I forgot we had some asshole on our couch so I got…surprised and only acted on self-defense. True story.”

“I am not your mom! God I thought we went over this? Why is the mom thing coming back all of a sudden you fucking weirdo?” You would never admit to him how relief floods you at having him back to his idiot self.

A loud scoff followed by a snarl has you remembering the hybrid behind you and it serves as a reminder that he isn’t exactly exuding happy vibes right now; you wouldn’t either if you woke up in a stranger’s house after being beaten up honestly.

“I would hardly call you smacking me awake and yanking the blanket off of me as self-defense you rat,” at the last word Taehyung lets out an indignant sound and it only makes Ares give him a smug smile.

“I am not a rat, you cracked out Bugs Bunny! You should be grateful that my eomma even saved your sorry ass from being taken away by the cops.”

“Taehyung!” you gasp as you quickly yank his shaggy, morning hair, ignoring his whines of protests and turn to give Ares an apologetic stare. “I am so sorry; please don’t listen to what he says. I don’t know why he’s acting like this, but please feel free to use our bathroom to freshen up while I make us some breakfast. As an apology, Tae will even lend you some of his old clothes.”

Your roommate only gives out a strangled noise of protest, wiggling out of your hold to give you a look of comical betrayal. “Says who?! I don’t want him wearing my clothes! He’ll rub his gross smell all over them!”

Ares is quick to begin walking toward the door of your apartment with a heavy scowl on his lips, clearly not wanting stay with how rude Taehyung was being. “Whatever. I don’t want or need your pity or charity.”

Your heart squeezes painfully and before your mind can catch up, you once again act out impulsively, quickly wrapping your fingers around the muscle on his forearm. Only in doing so it makes you realize that he is in fact, still very much walking in only small shorts and nothing else. You swallow as quietly as you can and clear your throat, noting a bit late that he also hasn’t shaken your hand off of him, but neither has he turned around. Your heart flutters in hope.

“I didn’t help you out of pity,” your words are soft, but firm and you feel him stiffen under your hand, making the words quickly jumble out in a mess to have him understand you. “I know you won’t believe me, but I just couldn’t leave you there while no one came to help you. Especially after…after seeing the fight and how that tigress –”

“You helping me doesn’t change the fact that you paid to see those fights,” the venom in his sudden snarl has your hand leaving his arm as if burned and the stare he gives you over his shoulder has an annoying sting come to your eyes. He only scoffs and carries on. “You think that doing one good thing for a “worthless” hybrid suddenly makes you a saint? Don’t make me laugh.”

So focused on not letting the uninvited tears to fall, you don’t notice Tae getting closer until you feel his arm wrap around your shoulders and an almost animalistic growl sounding from right above your head. “She didn’t pay to be there you ungrateful jackass. I was invited to go there and I brought her with me so I wouldn’t go alone. So if I were you I’d stop swimming in the river you cried for yourself and thank y/n for risking her safety to get you out of there.”

The air is stifling as your voice leaves you and has your breath stuck at the base of your throat, too anxious to say anything to break the tension. The moments are far and few in-between when Taehyung gets angry, but times like these remind you that despite being a goofball, he was still very much a nearly a six foot tall, broad shouldered man with some mean ass looking eyebrows. Despite not looking threatened in the least, Ares still regards your friend and roommate with a serious, pensive scowl; body fully turned and chest instinctually puffing out to no doubt assert dominance.

Even in a serious situation such as this, your traitorous eyes fail to stay on the hybrid’s face and instead greedily roam over the bulging muscles with slight awe. Damn was this man giving Chris Hemsworth a run for his money.

“Thanks.”

The growled response has your eyes snapping up in shock to stare at Ares, body flushing in pleasant warmth as he stares back, but at seeing your lips form a small ‘o’ of surprise, he’s quick to look away with a frown. You’d blame the lack of any lights on for the small rosy hue his cheeks have gained.

“Do you have a home to go back to?” That is not what you meant to say and by the strangled noise that leaves Taehyung’s throat, he wasn’t expecting it either, but he knows where that question is going and is unfortunately much too shell-shocked to stop it. From how things went last night, you have a sad intuitive feeling that the male hybrid is homeless and like before, you just couldn’t sit idly on that thought.

The ears on Ares’ head flatten back in apprehension; his eyes once more regarding you, but with a certain guard in them as his confusion shows in his hesitancy. “What’s it to you?”

Someday you’d learn to control your impulsive behavior and stop to think about your decisions before making them. Today was not that day. “You can stay with us if you don’t. Rent won’t be an issue either; Tae and I make enough money to not be living paycheck to paycheck. Even if you just stay until you can find somewhere else, it beats having to hide from hybrid police department.”

The thickness in their air increases as everyone holds their breath, Taehyung dropping his arm from around your shoulders in a defeat he can already see happening and knows is futile in trying to fight it. But with each silent second that ticks by has your heart hammering away at your ribs faster, especially when a flicker of that same vulnerability you witnessed back in the cage last night appears in Ares’ eyes.

“Only until I can find someplace else,” the look is gone and is replaced with a gruff awkwardness as the hybrid nervously picks at his cheek, his voice quieter than before.

A loud grunt of dissatisfaction leaves your friend’s throat as he moves away from you and stomps angrily toward the hallway, throwing a petulant huff under his breath about getting ready for work. You let out your own sigh as the reality of what you just did settles on your skin. You’d have to make Taehyung his favorite foods and desserts on top of playing with his hair until your hand fell off for who knows how long for your hasty decision. Truly, you were on a roll with all the impulsivity, but it was done and you’d need to remind yourself after Taehyung’s shift at the diner to question his unfound hostility toward the hybrid.

For now, however…

“Let’s um, get you some clean clothes for after you shower and in the mean time I can make us some breakfast,” your smile is small and albeit a bit awkward, but it was sincere enough to have the hybrid give a grateful nod in return. “As if it wasn’t obvious by now, my name is y/n and I’m going to go on a wild guess and say Ares isn’t really your actual name?”

“You’d guess correctly,” he avoids your eyes for a few more seconds before he gives in and glances back at you, voice growing soft in newfound timidity. “Jeongguk.”

“Jeongguk,” your tongue rolls around the name easily and so preoccupied you are in trying to pronounce it exactly as he did, you miss the red tint making home on his cheeks again. By the time you look back up at him, it’s nearly gone and his eyes are roaming your apartment for the first time, obviously trying to take it in. “You can use the bathroom in my room for now, since Tae is notorious for taking forever in getting ready. We can go over living arrangements after, kay?”

With a shy nod and an actual tiny smile, Ares – no, Jeongguk – has your stomach fluttering as you quickly show him to where your room is and leave him to shower. Now standing alone in your kitchen, you let out a soft breath as you lean your forehead on the cool countertop, trying your best to wrap your mind around just exactly what occurred in the past 15 hours. With a shake of your head and a few small slaps to your cheeks, you get started on making some breakfast for all three of you while you push any doubts to the back of your head until you can get back to them in the darkness of your room later tonight.

You’d stupidly face the repercussions of your actions when they came, because you knew they would, just not now; but for the present time, you’d simply worry about making sure you had enough strawberries to dump onto Taehyung’s waffles.

#bangtanidx #Jeon Jungkook #Jungkook fluff #Jungkook smut #Hybrid Jungkook #bts hybrid #Taehyung #Kim Taehyung #Angst #Fluff #Tw violence

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lordgeebsdom · 5 years

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2019, a year in review: Superlative Edition

-Gareth Bill

Athlete of the year: Lamar Jackson - QB Baltimore Ravens. HM: Kawhi Leonard - SF Toronto/LA

Lamar Jackson came out of nowhere to light the league on fire in 2019 breaking Michael Vick’s all-time record for rushing yards by a Quarterback and redefining the position in the process. From his five touchdown performance in Miami to being the assumed MVP, there wasn’t a week where Lamar Jackson didn’t dominate headlines and he continues to show superiority as Baltimore has secured the Number 1 seed in the AFC. Honorable mention goes to Kawhi Leonard for producing the first ever buzzer beater in a game 7 in NBA history and for also bringing Canada their first NBA title. Even against a Kevin Durant-less Golden State Warriors team, Leonard stepped up and delivered when it counted most.

Song of the year: Lost Lately- San Holo. HM: Daemon Veil - EPROM & G Jones

Sander van Dijck, better known by his stage name “San Holo” surprised us with “Lost Lately” in June of this year. A melancholic and melodic ballad of discovery and feeling “lost in aftermath of a breakup” spoke to feelings of insecurity and extends a friendly hand to those in need. From an endearing marketing campaign featuring “lost” posters where fans could call a “helpline” to hear an exclusive sample of the song, to a music video taken straight from EDC: Bitbird executed an almost perfect build and drop for “Lost Lately.” Great followup work to last years “Album1” and I definitely am excited about his future projects for 2020. Honorable mention goes to the IDM monster “Daemon Veil” by EPROM and G Jones. Plain and simple, I loved this ear worm. There’s so much going on from the initial baseline drop to the stuttering minefield of drops and turns that follows before a calming conclusion. Every time I hear this track, I see it too: the flying snares, the zips, zooms and wubs, the story it tells me….its captivating and satisfying. While it isn’t as friendly for casual listening like my 2018 song of the year “Time” (also by G Jones), Daemon Veil is an IDM banger that I’ll continue to blast well into 2020 and beyond.

Album of the year: Good Faith- Madeon. HM: Hollywood’s Bleeding - Post Malone

This was a tough call for me, there was a lot of great albums that came to us in 2019 but Madeon’s “Good Faith” stands tall above the rest. From the initial singles of “All My Friends,” and “Dream, Dream, Dream,” to the unexpected bangers of “Miracle,” and “No Fear, No More,”: “Good Faith” makes a solid argument not just for album of the year but possibly even for the decade and I simply cannot recommend it enough. Honorable Mention goes to “Hollywood’s Bleeding” by Post Malone. Like many, I have thoroughly enjoyed the evolution of Post Malone from SoundCloud sensation to certified super-star, and “Hollywood’s Bleeding” continues to show us that this artist is just getting started. I loved “Goodbyes,” “Circles,” “Sunflower,” and many other tracks on that album, and I’m confident many others did as well. Rapper, Rockstar, Soul-singer and bro: best of luck in 2020 and beyond Post, we’re all eagerly watching.

Movie of the year: Its a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood. HM: Avengers: Endgame

Easily the most contested category of the year and the hardest decision made in these superlatives. 2019 produced some awesome films but Tom Hanks’s take on Fred Rogers gave me chills that I hadn’t felt since seeing Christopher Reeve’s Superman as a child. Like Superman, his presence among adults and children alike would universally cause awe and calm, almost god-like tranquility through security. In a year that was defined by division, unrest, cruelty, and anger: Fred Rogers reminds us that there’s still a great deal of hope for humanity, and it all starts with being a good neighbor. Young, old and everyone in between can learn something from this deeply affecting story about humanity and connection. Honorable mention goes to Avengers: Endgame for managing to be the only major franchise ending this year (Game of Thrones, Avengers, Star Wars) that managed to do it with a consensus BANG! It was a 3 hour film that somehow felt like an hour and half, and when Captain America held Mjornir with every Avenger ever at his back and said “Avengers, Assemble!”, I couldn’t help but fist pump with a grin from ear to ear. Tony Stark’s dying words of “I am Iron-Man,” gave me goosebumps and Black Widow’s death made me feel genuine loss: The Marvel Cinematic Universe managed to execute a singular plan and vision over 23 films and that is truly exceptional.

Actor/Actress of the year: Joaquin Phoenix as Arthur/Joker. HM: Florence Pugh - Midsommar

Joaquin Phoenix’s long anticipated and controversial performance as Joker was the best singular work I saw this year. Authentic, gut-wrenching, thought-provoking, and anything but boring: Joker gave us the next step in comic book cinema and a new cultural icon in the process. Arthur Fleck is a poster child for mental illness, something that currently is at the forefront of our society and gave the general public a poster child for such conditions. Phoenix’s Joker will one day be recognized in the same light as we currently see Che: an underdog figure of resistance and revolution standing against a seemingly unstoppable status quo and inspiring the unseen masses in the process. Honorable mention has to go to one of my new favorites in Florence Pugh and her performance as Dani in “Midsommar”. Her pain, confusion, and ultimate triumph that unravels throughout a trip to a small village in Europe during their mid-summer festival is the stuff of “slow-burn horror” wet-dreams. There’s a scene early on where her character has to convey immense grief after suffering a personal tragedy and I can still hear that crying in the most haunting way. Pugh’s performance stuck with me in a year full of great ones, and I’m very excited to see her future work including “Black Widow” in May.

Television show of the year: Watchmen- HBO. HM: Good Omens - Amazon Prime

Watchmen blew my mind, and I the less I say about it, the better. A continuation of the story told in my favorite book of all-time, “Watchmen” managed to tie together many loose plot threads from that story while also moving the universe forward in new and exciting ways that matched the tone of the graphic novel. Regina King’s “Sister Night” was a complex, likable, and tragic protagonist uniquely qualified to walk us through this new chapter, and without spoiling things anymore than I already may have: YOU NEED TO WATCH THIS. Honorable Mention goes to Good Omens on Amazon Prime. To any familiar with the story or Neil Gaiman’s work in general, you know what to expect: deep stories, complex and likable characters, and witty dialogue that will make you pause and think or laugh feverishly in equal measure. Its only 5 episodes, so there’s really no excuse to not dive into this one and see how the world ends…..or rather was supposed to…

Game of the year: Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice - PS4/XboxOne/PC. HM: Apex Legends - PS4/PC/XboxOne

From Softwares’ “Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice” stands tall in a year that finally saw long awaited projects like Obsidian’s “Outer Worlds” and Kojima’s “Death Stranding” get long-awaited releases. An exciting and more stealthy evolution of the Dark Souls combat system made me feel like a real Ninja for the first time since Ninja Gaiden Black on my original Xbox. The demanding, but fair gameplay combined with a variation of environments including haunted Japanese forests, Sengoku Temples, Palaces and gory battlefields came together to give the most complete package I played in 2019. Just don’t be too surprised if the final boss gives you problems because that f***er can almost made me break a controller. Honorable mention goes to the game that managed to dethrone “Fortnite” as the most popular game for like a whole two months. Respawn entertainment developed the awesome Titanfall series that I personally enjoyed and rumors had been circulating for quite awhile that they were looking to expand Titanfall into the booming genre of BR or Battle Royale. Apex Legends is the answer to those prayers and still continues to push out new skins, content and weapons at a regular rate. Did I mention it is also completely free to play?

Story of the year: President Trump becomes the third President to ever be impeached 12/19

HM: Henry Nobrega wins the fucking BVN Football Fantasy Football title. 11/19

To be perfectly honest, this is the first category that really could have gone either way for me. President Trump becoming the third President in US history to be impeached for abuse of power and obstruction of congress was massive; regardless of how you feel about President Orangutan. His tenure as President has produced a number of newsworthy moments but this story stood out among the others for sheer importance and international embarrassment. Speaking of embarrassment, that’s essentially what my good friend Henry’s fantasy football team has managed to be every year that I’ve played with him. A perennial basement dweller that typically auto drafts due to some BS excuse, and a resident near the bottom of our power rankings but this year he flipped that script on its head. He managed to draft my Athlete of the year, Lamar Jackson, and the last great white running back in Christian McCaffrey. Not only did Henry surpass his preseason ranking of bottom, he managed to win both regular season and postseason titles and beat a solid team by Graham Heck in the process. I got love for you bro, but I’m still perplexed on how your season managed to be as dominant as it was. Sorry Greta Thunberg, but these stories had my jaw on the floor, maybe next year lil’ Queen.

Meme of the year: Baby Yoda of the Disney+ show “The Mandolorian”

Was there every really a doubt here? Baby Yoda or “The Child” as he’s known on the show is the biggest pop culture icon born on the internet in 2019. The gap between Baby Yoda and what I considered to be an honorable mention was so wide that he will officially stand alone in this category. Baby Yoda’s cuteness managed to melt even my stone cold heart this year and that is absolutely an achievement. What made this creature so endearing was the universal applicability though music, sports, culture, and food: Baby Yoda was everywhere and the internet found common ground and shared meaning through sharing little graphics everywhere prominently featuring him as the centerpiece. Well played Jon Favreau, we love this little guy and everyone thanks you for creating him.

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agirlinhell · 5 years

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OKAY SO I’VE HAD A LOT OF ASOIAF / GOT RP BLOGS FOLLOWING ME LATELY AND I JUST HAVE TO LET YOU ALL KNOW THAT CLEMENTINE HAS SEVERAL VERSES, IN DIFFERENT ERAS AND IN DIFFERENT FACTIONS OF THE SERIES. I mostly follow book canon, as I’ve read all the books and I’ve watched all the seasons, but I am also show friendly, as well. I will be using Amandla Stenberg, Nyane Lebajoa and Indya Marie as her faceclaims. As this is A Song Of Ice And Fire / Game Of Thrones, there will naturally be explicit and mature content in a variety of different ways. She is bisexual, as in canon. There are six verses in all.

Although, they are not officially in my verses quite yet, allow me to elaborate them for you. Long post under the cut!

#1: Clementine is a skinchanger and a spearwife beyond the Wall whilst possessing greensight. She’s lived among the Free Folk all her life and was born near Hardhome. When she and the entire horde of the Free Folk are being driven south by the Others. she’s actually quite capable of defending herself even for a small girl, she’s taken out a few lone wights by herself. Clementine had faced the wrath of the likes of rangers of the Night’s Watch, slavers from the eastern cities, Hornfoots and Nightrunners, men and women of the Frozen Shore, men of the Ice-river clans who feasted on human flesh, snowbears, shadowcats and even other wargs. But worst of all the enemies she had fought were the wights, those moving corpses who only devoured the flesh of the living without a second thought. The girl had seen the likes of giants and mammoths, and she could see through the eyes of the beasts of the land and the birds in the skies, things that the girls of the south would hardly begin to imagine. Yet, at only age sixteen, she had managed to survive long enough to make it to The Wall. She wonders what the lands are like Beyond The Wall, survival is all she’s ever known. When the Free Folk are brought south of The Wall, Clementine is being taught how to read by Shireen Baratheon and the maesters at Castle Black. She has a shadowcat for a companion and can warg into it and take over its body as its host. The Free Folk both fear her and respect her, and several of the men of the Night’s Watch can say the same. Some think that she is descended from the Children of The Forest because of her golden eyes, but that is up to speculation. To put it very simply, this is her verse for any muses from the North or Beyond The Wall. I can easily see her being tangled up with Melisandre or the Boltons, perhaps she can possibly help Jeyne Poole escape Winterfell? She is age sixteen in this verse. This verse will be tagged as v; I MAY BE YOUR PRISONER BUT I AM A FREE WOMAN. ( A SONG OF ICE & FIRE / GAME OF THRONES. || THE FREE FOLK. )

#2: Clementine is a Princess of the Summer Isles. She serves Queen Margaery Tyrell as a lady in-waiting while serving as an intermediary between the Iron Throne and the Summer Isles as a princess of one of the isles and is one of their representatives so that trade between Westeros and the Summer Isles can continue further. Clementine is of Rhoynar, Summer Islander and Naathi descent. From a young age, she had been taught how to fight with a spear and shoot with her goldenheart bow and arrows that could pierce through even steel plate, as in the Summer Isles, women are considered equal to men. At age sixteen, she is well versed in many languages, the arts of love, music, song, dance and war. She leaves the Summer Isles on a swan ship to The Reach to broker a deal with the Hightowers at Oldtown at a young age while accompanied by an entourage of her own, and Alerie Hightower selected her to be one of ladies in waiting at Highgarden. Clem travels with Margaery and her relatives all throughout the events of The War of The Five Kings until they reach King’s Landing. When Margaery is betrothed to Joffrey Baratheon, Clementine is introduced in court, as well, and is seen as an exotic beauty by much of the court. She gets a lot of requests for marriage or simply sharing her bed from many lords of Westeros, including but not limited to Jhalabar Xho, Aurane Waters, Willam Wythers, Perros Blackmont and Daemon Sand, because many want the riches and treasures that the Summer Isles provide, and Clementine is an attractive young lady, something she will use to her advantage in court. ( **Note: this is what happens in my portrayal, if you portray any of these muses, this does not need to happen. )

She wears the feather capes that the Summer Islanders are known for and her loose silken diaphanous gowns from Naath, her hair is adorned with a myriad of butterflies and flowers in her hair and dressed in brilliantly colored feathers of exotic birds, silks, seashells and gemstones - rubies, sapphires, emeralds and pearls, along with the gowns and Myrish lace that Westeros provides when serving Queen Margaery Tyrell. Yet her heart always lies with her home. Afterward, she intends to venture to the Temples of Love in the isles and allow others to share her bed, as was expected of her and all other individuals on the isles, male or female, lowborn or highborn, as a way of worshiping her gods. She keeps to the gods of the Summer Isles and the Lord of Harmony of Naath and she’s been rumored to practice water magic, but this is debatable. She will protect her Queen with her life if need be.

Her fellow companions at court are Megga, Alla, Elinor and Leona Tyrell, Margaery’s cousins, Alyn Ambrose, Alysanne Bulwer, Meredyth Crane, Alyce Graceford, Taena Merryweather of Myr, Leonette Fossoway, Mira Forrester, Sara Durwell / Flowers and Septa Nysterica, a sister of the Faith. Through it all, even though she finds King’s Landing fascinating at first, she grows to yearn for her motherland… and learns that the capital is a pit of vipers. In A Feast For Crows, Clementine is accused of lewdness, fornication and high treason by The Faith and is arrested for crimes she did not commit. In a Dance With Dragons, Clementine’s currently awaiting her trial alongside the queen’s within the Sept of Baelor. To put it very simply, this verse is for King’s Landing and any shenanigans that may occur there, and it will be tagged as: v; YOU SHOULD SEE ME IN A CROWN. ( A SONG OF ICE & FIRE / GAME OF THRONES. || KING'S LANDING. )

#3:Clementine is a dragonrider, sorceress and noblewoman of the Valyrian Freehold, a daughter of the ancient House Targaryen, of the union of Aenar Targaryen and a princess from the Summer Isles. Keeping to the Gods of Old Valyria and the Deities of the Summer Isles, she finds herself praying to both deities, never truly having a preference of any of them over the other. One of the most striking things about her physical appearance are her violet eyes and her silver hair from her Valyrian ancestry, yet her skin tone is purely Summer Islander. It seems her lady mother won the genetics lottery. Clem has a good standing relationship with her half-siblings and most notably in Daenys Targaryen who would later to be known as Daenys the Dreamer renowned for foreseeing the Doom of Valyria twelve years prior to it’s fiery downfall. Clementine is dragonrider to the dragoness Zalliel. They practically grew up together from the time she was only an infant girl in her crib, as she’d been holding her egg to keep it warm. Zalliel, like her rider, had a thirst for adventure and freedom. Although not the warlike type, the dragoness would fight to the very bitter end to protect her rider. Her lord father, Aenar Targaryen, had paid a fine amount of gold for one of the best blacksmiths in the Freehold to make his youngest daughter a Valyrian steel sword, as Clementine had a intrigue for blades and the art of war, despite her calm and gentle exterior. Her lord father always knew that she had a fire burning in her heart. Clementine named this blade Dark Sister and so when she soared into the battlefield on dragonback, she would be seen fighting with it, as well as using one of her lady mother’s goldenheart bows and arrows. Clementine is a warrior through and through, and the blade has passed down to the future generations of House Targaryen, such as Queen Visenya Targaryen, Maegor Targaryen, Prince Daemon Targaryen and Lord Brynden Rivers, to which the sword is now lost to history.

Clementine was born - and grew up - within Valyria, and magic was at its height in the capital and in all the known world. At its apex Valyria was the greatest city in the known world, the center of civilization. Within its shining walls, twoscore rival houses vied for power and glory in court and council, rising and falling in an endless, subtle, oftsavage struggle for dominance. She enjoyed much of her childhood and adolescence there, loving to soar around the seemingly topless towers in the city, or spending time with her family in Lys. She kept monkeys, apes, panther cubs, and parrots from the Summer Isles as pets. She was taught in the arts of love and war, in many languages and was taught how in the magical arts by several sorcerers and mages hired by her lord father and lady mother. She is of Summer Islander, Naathi, Rhoynar and Valyrian descent, and was a member of the Young Dragons faction of Valyria. House Targaryen at the time was not considered a powerful house, compared to the forty other noble families of Valyria, but Clem cared little for court politics, but she was seen as a beauty amongst the dragonlords. In the Freehold, dragons were usually tamed with dragonhorns, sorcery and whips, but Clementine disliked the cruelty and thus attached herself to Zalliel in other ways, by way of kindness and companionship. After Daenys the Dreamer prophesied that Valyria would be destroyed, Aenar sold his holdings in the Valyrian Freehold and the Lands of the Long Summer, and moved with all his family, wives, wealth, slaves, and dragons, with House Velaryon and House Celtigar following behind them to Dragonstone, a bleak island citadel beneath the Dragonmont, a smoking mountain in the narrow sea. The Targaryens were far from the most powerful of the dragonlords, and their rivals in Valyria saw their flight as an act of cowardice. However, because Aenar had moved his family away from Valyria, the Targaryens were the only dragonlords to survive the Doom in 114 BC and the following Century of Blood.

Clementine, however, was unhappy with the whole ordeal, feeling as if her entire future was being torn away to rot and sit at the very westernmost precipice of the Valyrian Freehold - Dragonstone, especially near a place as foreign and strange as Westeros. She helped her family with their affairs in Essos, most predominantly in the wars of the Free Cities. After staying for a few years at Dragonstone, deciding to rebel against her father and refusing to stay any longer in the bleak citadel before she withered away, took all of her things and her dragon and soared away from Dragonstone to travel the known world. What happens to her afterward is still debated by the maesters of the Citadel to this day, and her adventures vary depending on the tale. Some say she had affairs with several Westerosi lords - and even ladies, others say she eventually united the Summer Isles under her rule - something that was uncommon amongst the islanders, while alternate sources claim she was a consort of a YiTish god-emperor. What is known, however, is that she’s had many lovers - both men and women - and several adventures in her life and eventually returned to Dragonstone by way of a ship and brought Dark Sister back to the ancestral home it belonged to, and that she lived a very long and natural life. To put it very simply, this verse is for any pre-ASOIAF / GOT characters before Aegon’s Conquest. The tag for this verse is: v; I AM THE DRAGON'S DAUGHTER. ( A SONG OF ICE & FIRE / GAME OF THRONES. || THE VALYRIAN FREEHOLD. )

( Note: Slavery, incest and polygamy are all a part of Valyrian culture, especially amongst the nobles. Her father had many wives and Clementine\s half siblings, as was common in Valyria, married and had children together. Incest is common among the noble families of Valyria and even then they’re often political with no romance involved and Clementine is a noblewoman, so it’s entirely possible she may have been betrothed. Slavery exists in this time period and Valyria profited off of slavery. Please keep in mind that I tolerate NONE of these things as a mun, but it is something that does happen and I will not be sugarcoating it in my portrayal, but I will always tag it when mentioned. )

#4: Clementine is a lady of Dornish, Summer Islander, Naathi and Rhoynar descent and owes her allegiance to House Martell. Although mostly underdeveloped in comparison to the rest of her verses, Clementine was born and grew up in the Summer Isles before being sent to Dorne as an older child as a negotiation agreement for trade, and she grows fond of Dorne while staying there. Eventually, she works together with Arianne Martell, the Sand Snakes and Arianne’s entourage to crown Myrcella Baratheon as true Queen of the Seven Kingdoms by Dornish law. In A Storm of Swords, she attends Ellaria Sand and Oberyn Martell and saw the consequences of the trial by combat go horribly wrong, with the Red Viper’s death having a critical blow on the Dornish. During the later parts of the books, she stays back in Dorne and attends Doran Martell with anything he might need, all while taking care of Princess Myrcella. To put it simply, this verse is mostly for interacting with characters from Dorne and mostly southern Westeros. The tag for this verse is v; SHE WHISPERS INTO THE EARS OF MEN. ( A SONG OF ICE & FIRE / GAME OF THRONES. || DORNE. )

#5: Clementine is a Princess of the Summer Isles, and was born and grew up in the isles. She was sent by her lord father to negotiate with the Free Cities on matters of trade... only to be kidnapped by Basilisk Isles raiders and to be sold as a slave in Meereen, first as a female fighter in the fighting pits, before being noticed by some of the Masters and being taken to the Temple of the Graces to be trained as a Red Grace - all of this against her will. When Daenerys Targaryen enters the scene, however, Clementine is one of the first women to raise the sword for the Dragon Queen. Daenerys frees her from her bondage as a slave and a Red Grace and Clementine has been loyal to her - and her entourage - since. This verse is used to interact with any muses of Slaver’s Bay or any individuals who are aligned with House Targaryen in the present time. It will be tagged as v; I'D RATHER DIE ON MY FEET THAN LIVE ON MY KNEES. ( A SONG OF ICE & FIRE / GAME OF THRONES. || SLAVER'S BAY. )

#6: Clementine is a young lady trained to become the next Black Pearl of Braavos, one of the most proeminent courtesans of the city. From a very young age, she was educated and trained in various cultural pursuits such as art, music, poetry, calligraphy, song, dance, history, literature and flower and fan language. She’s an educated girl of good social standing, who is oft present at festivals and entertainments, and is hired as a mourner at funerals. She, like her lady mother, enjoys high status and is famous worldwide. She, like every other courtesan, has her own barge and servants to work them, as slavery does not exist in Braavos. Her beauty has inspired many a song and she is showered with gifts from goldsmiths and craftsmen beg for her custom. Nobility and rich merchants pay her large amounts of money to appear alongside them at events, merchant princes pay royal ransom to have her on their arms at balls, feasts and mummer shows and bravos are known to kill each other in her name.

She is famous, respected and wealthy and enjoy a kind of celebrity status as well as a certain kind of mystique, and she is cultured and beautiful. She sleeps on rose petals and wears silken skirts that rustle when she walks, and great lords beggar themselves for her maiden’s blood. She can trace her descent through the female line to the daughter of Bellegere Otherys, a pirate queen who was the first Black Pearl, and King Aegon IV Targaryen, and thus the earlier generations of the Targaryen Dynasty as a whole, as well as having other bloodlines such as having royal descent of both a Princess of the Summer Isles and a Sealord of Braavos. She dresses in charcoal grey, purple, blues so dark that are almost black, and blacks as dark as moonlight. Clementine is age sixteen and is still in the process of following her mother’s footsteps. This verse is used for muses of Western Essos, moreso the Free Cities and particularly Braavos, but Clementine can easily travel elsewhere. This verse is tagged as v; THE BLACK PEARL. ( A SONG OF ICE & FIRE / GAME OF THRONES. || BRAAVOS. )

#( VERSES. )#OUT OF THE APOCALYPSE. ( ANGIE SPEAKS. )#( y'all know i had to do it to 'em. )

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elliepassmore · 5 years

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Crown of Midnight Review

5/5 stars Recommended for people who like: Throne of Glass, fantasy, magic, mystery, court intrigue, multiple POVs, strong female leads I think it’s funny that these first two books focus so much on mysteries when the next five put the mysteries on the backburner. They’re still there, but I definitely feel they’re more present in this one and ToG. As a brief reminder, there will be mild spoilers for the previous books reviewed. We’ll start with Chaol, since he was the one I had the biggest complaint against in the last book. He’s better in this one, in my opinion. Something changed since Celaena won the Championship and he killed Cain, and he’s a lot nicer to Celaena. Unfortunately, it seems to be at the cost of a soured relationship with Dorian, which is a shame since I did like their friendship. There are still moments of it here, but both men are too wrapped up in their emotions, and eventually their own problems, to really be able to fully get over themselves and go back to how they were. Chaol’s eyes are being opened throughout the book to how he’s had a blind loyalty to a king with such vile plans. It takes him a while, but he does come to the realization that his complete obedience to the crown has the ability to do more harm than good. Despite all this, he does still have his moments when he’s unaccepting of Celaena and easily willing to believe the worst of her. I really don’t know what he expected, getting into a relationship with an assassin, but he definitely seems to have issues with her job. All in all, though, reading Crownback-to-back with Throne makes it obvious that Chaol has experienced leaps and bounds of character development. While Chaol moved forward in his development, Dorian seems to have regressed a bit. He’s snippier in this one, and more closed off to the people around him, showing a stark difference from Throne, when he seemed more engaged with the people around him. It’s a bit of clever character-to-plot play Maas has going on, since I think a lot of Dorian’s change in behavior is not only due to Celaena turning him down, but also due to the ancient powers awakening. In this context, it made Dorian and interesting character to have narrate, but in the context the change being based on bitterness and jealousy re: Celaena…then it’s not my favorite move. Aside from that, Dorian has some interesting things going on in his life that make his scenes and POV a bit livelier than they would be otherwise. He adds another layer of complexity to the world of mystery and ‘magic is gone….right?’ that Maas created in the books. I can’t quite tell what I think about Celaena in this one. On the one hand, she’s in character for how she acts and everything she does and says slowly inches her closer to the apex of her overall arc, and especially the arc Maas has planned for Celaena for the first three books. On the other hand, after seeing what Celaena can do in Blade and Throne, I felt like she decreased in skill for a lot of the book. Sure, sure, there are scenes where she’s most definitely the superior fighter in the room and lives up to her name as Adarlan’s Assassin, but there are also scenes were someone with far less training and experience than she is able to get the upper hand, which was frustrating. I really, really liked how dark she got in this book. We saw some of it in Blade, but haven’t really seen it since, and I was glad it was back out during certain parts of the book. Nehemia was a character who definitely came through in this one. We get more scenes with her, as well as some parts of the book from her POV, which was nice. You also get a better sense of how much she loves her country and how far she’d go to protect her people. Having read the book before, and knowing just how many secrets she was keeping during it made me want to t h r o t t l e h e r. I (perhaps obviously), unlike Celaena, understand why she was keeping the secrets. She looked at all the available options and decided the one she took was the one that made the most sense in the long run not just for her people, but for everyone under Adarlan’s control and beyond. It was a damned shame it had to go like it did, though, and I understand people’s complaints re: representation. But I will say, I do like Nehemia’s character a great deal *SPOILER* and I wish she was in the books for longer*SPOILER END*. Archer Finn was a new character, sorta. And by ‘sorta,’ I mean he was briefly mentioned in Blade. Um…as a subjective reader, not a fan. As an objective reader and as a fiction writer myself, I like how his character was written. Subjectively, he’s oily and a dick, but at least for most of the book he’s a dick that helps rebels, so that’s a plus. The level of ease with which he handles the situations he finds himself in is astounding, which is why, I suppose, Maas has him as the character doing…stuff in this book. Like Celaena, I was easily captivated and fooled by the desperate courtier face he put on, even knowing how his arc was going. It’s easy to say that knowing everything he does combined with his comment about Rourke Farran makes me want to rip his head off on Celaena’s behalf. Objectively, however, I think he’s a wonderfully written character with complexities and motives we only really get to scratch the surface of. Like, we know he wants free of Clarisse—the brothel lady—but it’s not quite obvious just how desperate he is to be free of those chains. In this sense, he reminds me a bit of Sam, as in, he’s one of the few people so far who understand that Arobynn Hamel and Clarisse whatever-her-last-name-is might not put their proteges in literal chains, but that the shackles are there just the same. It makes everything Archer does that much more interesting. One character I’m bummed we didn’t get to see more of in this one was Philippa. She’s mentioned a few times, but I don’t think we get a solid interaction with her throughout the entire book. The only lines of real dialogue she has are toward the beginning when she addresses Nehemia and Celaena while they’re breakfasting. I really liked her character, and she made such an impact on Celaena too, not just in Throne, but in this book as well, and it’s such a damned shame we didn’t get to see more of her. As for the mystery in this book, it really goes round and round in circles for a while before revealing even an aspect of itself. I liked it, since it made it feel contained within the book while also giving off tendrils for the future books and even tying off some of the ones from the last one. Elena is back in this one and we also have a new helper, Mort, who is a pain in the ass, but at least he’s a funny pain in the ass. Elena kind of makes my blood boil with her sympathies and missions and general unhelpfulness. Like before, Elena offers a shred of the mystery and leaves the rest up to Celaena, who then has to deal with whatever slick and dark creature has clawed its way up this time. Despite the mystery creating more questions and problems than it answers and solves, I find it has a satisfying conclusion within the book, with said conclusion making it feel like the mystery has been closed at least a little bit. There’s been a lot of foreshadowing set up in Throne, Blade, and even this book, for what turns out to be a reveal at the very end. If you’re looking for it, you’ll be able to see the pieces and thread them together. I think it’s absolutely brilliant, and love that that’s where Maas took the storyline and all the potential that the reveal brings. While, admittedly, these first two books aren’t exactly my favorites out of the series ( Heir of Fire holds that title, actually), I definitely still enjoyed them and think they’re crucial for the set up of the rest of the story. Plus, it’s funny going back and rereading them after the end of the series and seeing all the Easter eggs Maas put in as well as how much the characters have change over the course of all eight books. Also, I always end up liking these first two books more than I remember liking them, so that’s a bit of an added bonus/surprise.

#book #books #book review #book recommendations #assassins blade #throne of glass #crown of midnight #heir of fire #queen of shadows #empire of storms #tower of dawn #kingdom of ash #sarah j maas #celaena sardothien #chaol westfall #nehemia ytger #dorian havilliard #adarlans assassin #king of adarlan

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sabrinaandlilith · 6 years

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i went mad about you - chapter 3

summary: When Sabrina is accused of a crime she didn’t commit, she’s sent to a remote castle where the mysterious Madam Satan is supposed to reform her into a proper witch. But secrets haunt the halls and Madam Satan’s teaching style is unconventional to say the least. pairing: black sabith (sabrina + madam satan/lilith) rating: explicit

read below or here on ao3

The next morning, Sabrina found a new tray of food inside her cell. She wanted to ignore it, wanted to accept no kindness from the woman who kept her there, but her stomach arched with hunger and the tea and bacon with toast smelled so good. So she ate, then realized that the only toilet available to her in the cell was a hole in the ground on the far side. Face flushed with humiliation, she used it.

Her only way of telling time was the trays of food that appeared in her cell and when the lanterns dimmed in the hall. Aside from that, her world had been reduced to the bars of her cell and the three walls that held her, the chain around her ankle, and the dress she’d been wearing since yesterday.

Sabrina tried shouting for help, she tried shaking the bars, she tried picking the lock with her bobby pin. She looked for loose stones in the floor but soon wore herself out.

Sleep was no better. Her mind toyed with her, and she only had increasingly erotic dreams. The first night she dreamed of the throne room. The second night she dreamed of a bed with silk sheets, one where she was bound, hands and feet to it. Madam Satan was above her, kissing every inch of her skin, fucking her roughly all night long. The third night she was bent over the teacher’s desk in home room, her entire class looking on Madam Satan took the role of their teacher, spanking Sabrina in front of everyone.

On the fourth day of being confined to her cell, Sabrina woke up hot and frustrated. No matter how erotic and dirty her dreams were she never came. Taking matters literally into her own hands, Sabrina kicked off her blankets and slipped a hand into her dirty underwear.

Moving two fingers in circles, Sabrina rubbed her clit, slowly at first, then faster and faster as her desire built. As much as she tried to banish them from her mind, images of Madam Satan from her dreams filled her mind and the smallest of moans escaped her lips. But try as she might, she couldn’t couldn’t climax.

“Having difficulties kitten?” a low voice said. Sabrina jerked the blankets up around her as she sat up. Madam Satan was standing at the bars of her cell, looking amused.

“How long have you been spying on me?” Sabrina demanded.

“Long enough to see the show,” Madam Satan said, “That collar doesn’t just suppress your magic, pet, it also makes it so I am the only person who can, ehm, grant you release.”

“What?”

“While you wear that collar,” Madam Satan’s lips curled into a grin, “The only way you will orgasm is by my hand alone.”

“You’re insane,” said Sabrina, glaring up at her.

“Maybe so, but you’ll be begging for it soon enough,” Madam Satan tossed her hair, “Get up and kneel before the bars.”

“I won’t kneel before you, you monster!”

“I was going to take you upstairs for a bath, but if you’d rather remain here in your cell I can leave…”

Panic seized her heart and Sabrina lifted a hand, “No wait!”

Madam Satan watched with an almost smile on her face as Sabrina pulled down her skirt and got up, dragging her chain to the cell bars. She hesitated for a moment before getting down on her knees, sitting back on her feet.

“Your first lesson will be how to kneel. Rise up so you’re only on her knees and fold your arms behind your back,” Madam Satan instructed. Sabrina complied, glaring up at her the whole time. “Now, I’d like you to say, ‘Please Mistress, forgive me for trying to escape.’”

Sabrina licked her lips, clenching her jaw before repeating, “Please Mistress, forgive me for trying to escape.”

Madam Satan’s smile wided, “Good girl,” she cooed and Sabrina flushed at the praise. Opening the cell door, Madam Satan waved her hand, unchaining Sabrina’s ankle with a wordless spell. Sabrina started to stand, but in a single swift movement, Madam Satan caught her, hand closing around her jaw and forcing Sabrina to look up at her.

“You are to call me Mistress, not monster, not Madam Satan, not Mother of Demons,” she said just as calmly as before, “If you try to run again your punishment will be much more severe. Understood?”

“Y-yes,” Sabrina managed.

“Yes what?”

“Yes Mistress.”

Madam Satan lead her through the castle to a large bathroom. White tile stretched from wallpapered wall to wallpapered wall and in the middle of the room as a steaming bath. It looked quite modern, from the bath to the shower to the table and mirror against the far wall.

The bath looked so good to Sabrina, she almost forgot what was happening.

“Undress and get in,” Madam Satan instructed with a wave for her hand. She leaned against the table.

“But you’re here,” said Sabrina.

The cat like smile returned as her new Mistress looked her slowly up and down, “Very perceptive of you pet.”

Turning her back to Madam Satan, Sabrina undressed as quickly as she could, slipping into the water with a sigh. She took her time washing three days worth of dungeon cell grime and sweat from her, all while feeling Madam Satan’s intense gaze follow her ever move.

Once the water had gone cold, Madam Satan picked up a towel but when she wouldn’t hand it to Sabrina, she had to stand and let her wrap it around her. Her fingers curled into the soft towel as she pulled Sabrina closer, sitting down on a stool by the tub.

“I can dry myself off,” Sabrina said.

“Let me,” said Madam Satan, “It’s been too long since I’ve had a proper pet.”

“I thought you were supposed to reform me,” there was a bite to Sabrina’s tone as Madam Satan gently dried her. It was embarrassing but left Sabrina’s face flush as heat pooled in her stomach.

Madam Satan laughed softly, tracing the curve of Sabrina’s hip with her fingertip. Sabrina shivered, meeting her piercing blue eyes. Reaching over to the table behind her, Madam Satan picked up a bottle and a razor.

“Now, either you can be a good girl and hold still, or I can use magic to restrain you,”

“What are you going to do?”

With two fingers, Madam Satan stroked the dark curls between Sabrina’s legs, “I’m going to get rid of this.”

Sabrina gasped, her face growing a deeper shade of red- even though she thought that was impossible. Stripped both of her clothes and of her magic, she felt completely vulnerable. Madam Satan continued to play with her hair, enjoying Sabrina’s squirming.

“I- I-“ she stammered.

“I’ll be very gentle with you Sabrina,” and her time was so soft, that it drew Sabrina in and before she knew what she was doing, Sabrina began to nod.

Madam Satan lifted one of Sabrina’s legs so her foot rested on the stool where she sat. Then she poured something from bottle onto her hands and carefully massaged it into her curls.

Sabrina but her lip. Averting her eyes as Madam Satan began to shave away all the hair that existed at the apex of her legs. She felt too hot, and it was humiliating, but more so as she realize how wet she was growing. She hated that she wanted to be touched, hated that she ached for Madam Satan. But soon she was done, and when Sabrina glanced down at herself she was completely bare.

Reaching behind her again, Madam Satan held up a small gold ring for Sabrina to see.

“This may pinch a bit,” she said with a wink and blew on the little ring.

Sabrina gasped as the ring disappeared and there was a sharp pinch between her legs. Her hand flew between her legs to find that the curve of skin above her clit had been pieced with the tiny gold ring. Every time she moved it brushed against her clit.

Scrambling to grab the towel, she tried to cover herself in shock.

“Alright, that’s enough for today,” Madam Satan said snapping her fingers.

And in an instant Sabrina was back in her dungeon cell, a pile of fresh clothes on the bed.

#caos #caos fanfic #caosfanfic #the chilling adventures of sabrina #chilling adventures of sabrina #sabrina fanfic #black sabith #Madam Satan #sabrina spellman #sabrina x madam satan #madam satan x sabrina #my fanfic #i went mad about you

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consmcchill · 6 years

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Avatar the Last Airbender movie FIXED

I did it. TLDR: I fixed the movie The Last Airbender. Feel free to skip this rambling intro and scroll down to the good stuff.

For the rest of you, my name is Conor McCahill, I’m an actor and wannabee screenwriter living in Chicago.

I wanted to post this on the internet for three reasons:

One: Avatar the Last Airbender means a lot to me. My high school friends would meet every week at my house to watch each premier live. Those memories are among my happiest. I was beyond excited for the movie, but, everything I found out about it pushed me further from it and when it finally came out I resolved never to see it. And I didn’t, until I was in a show with Francis Guinan, who played Master Pakku, and when he told me he was in it, I thought, “Hey, why not?” Watching this movie was one of the most disappointing experiences of my life. Fast forward to now and I’m reading Save The Cat, which is a book about screenwriting and one of the homework pieces is to fix a bad movie and make it a good movie. Obviously, the worst movie I can think of is The Last Airbender, so I chose it to fix it.

Two: Fans scare me. True deeply loving fans are like tiger mothers. You have high standards, and good for you! I can’t think of anyone who would enjoy this project more than a diehard fan and my goal is to impress you.

Three: Though I started this before the Netflix announcement of the Avatar the Last Airbender live action series, I’d still like to think that this could help get the movie remade. However, even if it doesn’t, maybe this can help you find closure that in some universe, a better movie exists.

I wrote this as if it was a wikipedia article describing the movie. I tried to avoid dialogue as much as possible, but sometimes, it’s just clearer. I used screenshots from the show to aid the reader though sometimes the pictures aren’t perfect, and other times I used real pictures or art. I linked to the websites where I did that.

The process:

I watched all of season one again, with an eye for character and story development. It was a real treat and I graphed each character’s development over the season, who was the main character of each episode, and how they grew in each episode. I painted a picture of tracking information about the characters, which characters know it, and when it is revealed to a character or the audience. I also tracked tokens, my word for props of importance like Aang’s staff and the water scroll. Adapting this cartoon to a movie was a huge challenge that I was not fully prepared for. The biggest challenge faced is reduction of the source material into roughly an hour and a half to two hours. Season one is very filler heavy, we get to meet our characters and watch them interact, and the first season takes its time and lets the characters be kids in a really nice way. Each episode is roughly twenty-two minutes long, making the season about seven and a half hours long which means inevitably something is going to be lost in translation because we’re losing six hours of content. Episodically is a great way to tell a story with lots of characters with multiple plot lines and over longer periods of time. Movies are better equipped to tell stories as an immediate chronological sequence of events with few characters. This just comes down to time and how much we have to tell the story and how the audience processes a story in “real time.” If you want the movie to be exactly the same story, well, that’s impossible and you should just watch the cartoon. It’s gonna change, there’s no way around it. After finishing the cartoon, I decided it would be a good idea to at least watch the movie again.

Overall and if you squint, Shyamalan got the story of the first season in the movie pretty accurately. His movie goes, southern water tribe, southern air temple, earth kingdom, northern air temple, and northern water tribe. The problem is that we don’t really get to enjoy any one thing for too long because we’re being whisked off to the next one. I didn’t want to make the same mistake, so I chose to limit my main settings to the number of my acts, for simplicity. I picked the southern water tribe, the southern air temple, and the northern water tribe capital.

Shyamalan decided to write each movie one at a time and I really think that doomed the project. I think he decided to do it that way, Nickelodeon went along with it, and by the time he realized his mistake, production has already started, and he couldn’t hold it up because it’s millions of dollars and our young actors are rapidly aging. Any kind of delay will hurt a project starring kids more than other movies. If you want to do it right, you need to be ready to pump out each movie so the kids can age naturally and not suddenly be adults, (see: Harry Potter.) Keeping his decision in mind, I decided to approach this project as if it were a trilogy. That helped me eliminate characters and plotlines for movie one, because they can appear later. I whittled my main characters down to seven, which is more than plenty; Aang, Katara, Sokka, Zhao, Zuko, Iroh, and Yue.

Let’s talk about Yue. Her sacrifice is the emotional apex of the first season of ATLA and is therefore the most important part of the movie. We need to care about Yue because the more we care, the more effective her sacrifice is and the more satisfying the emotional catharsis. In visual media, the way we make you care is we give you screen time. In the show, she gets three full episodes, but the development of her relationship with Sokka feels rushed. It still feels better than the Shyamalan movie, where she comes in at the last thirty minutes, and by all accounts gets half as much time as the cartoon. Considering her sacrifice, Yue needs to come into the movie early. Save the Cat talks about act two as the love act. Often in movies, it is when our protagonists meet a new character(s) who will nurture them through the end. It does not have to be true love or romantic love, it is often friend love. That seems like a perfect place for Yue.

I didn’t want to change the canon, but I had to get Yue into contact with Katara, Sokka, and Aang. I decided that the most important thing, at least in adapting, is not necessarily what happens to our characters, but that they grow in the same way. That freed me up to consider other, more exciting possibilities. Like, what if we bring Yue to the south, on a quest? Aside from Yue, the most necessary element of the north is the spirit oasis, so Zhao can kill the moon. So, I thought to place the spirit oasis in the ruins of the southern tribe capital, so we’re not suddenly robbed of a whole world crossing adventure where lots of stuff must happen. We can grow with our characters (Aang, Katara, and Sokka) in the illusion of real time, and not cut to weeks later at the northern tribe. That evolved into a portal to the northern water tribe, something heavily plot relevant, canon from The Legend of Korra, and it gives something new to longtime fans.

The Yue I came up with differs from the show Yue in very exciting ways. I develop her relationships with Aang and Katara and give Sokka a stronger interest, a love that could actually be returned and is hopeful. The best part is, I make her more active instead of passive. Since this will be her only movie, she should be there more, not to mention there are five main males and only one main female without her. All my own changes made me sympathetic to the way Shyamalan had to alter the plot and characters and it was the choice to boost Yue’s role that really lead to this entire piece.

Thanks to Bryan Konietzko and Michael Dante DiMartino for their work that continues to inspire me to this day. Thank you to all the long-time fans who run the Avatar the Last Airbender wiki. Your work was essential. I lifted some passages directly from the episode descriptions that match what I see as the movie, but where I did, I tried to mark with a *. Also, I used some art and photos and I provided a link to those artists. And, I dunno, thanks to Jim Henson who thought it was important and healthy for children to feel fear.

How I would open the movie:

Open on the fire nation palace: an imposing tower of red crowned with gold spires slices a sunny blue sky in two and looms over a vast courtyard. The front doors are open and we zoom into the darkness. Inside the palace, the air is thick and stuffy and ornate tapestries line every wall lit by braziers that fume and pop and crackle.

In a gallery filled with portraits of proud and angry men and women cloaked in red and holding fire in their bare hands, a teenage boy sits at a table, playing a tile game with an older man.

The boy squirms, agonizing over his next move. The older man is toying with him, but plants seeds of wisdom on how defeat a superior opponent. The boy tentatively places a tile, lingering his finger on the it before whipping it away. The old man examines the board.

With one decisive move, he places a lotus tile in the center of the field, winning the game leaving the young man in disbelief. The older man laughs as the younger man passionately demands a rematch, but they are interrupted by the sound of footsteps and they stiffen. A messenger comes. He bows low, and begs forgiveness from Prince Zuko for interrupting him, but he has come to escort General Iroh to a war meeting. The older man smirks and asks the younger man if he forgives the messenger. Zuko rolls his eyes and says he does but asks his uncle if he can join him in the war meeting. His uncle denies him, but the young prince pleads. He wants to be a good king someday, why not learn as soon as possible? Iroh relents and warns Zuko not to speak out of turn.

Iroh leads Zuko into the hall before the throne room. As the firebending generals go in, each makes a flame in their hand and adds it to a fiery bowl on a pedestal in the center of the hall. Iroh explains to Zuko, as he follows suit, that the ritual serves to show that no firebender will use fire bending in the throne room or face extreme consequences. Even the fire lord is honor bound to uphold his promise, he just never has to symbolically prove himself. Iroh puts his fire in the bowl. Zuko steps up after him and does the same, his face lit up by the flames.

The inside of the throne room is darker than the rest of the palace. Zuko is both frightened and exhilarated. As a particularly old and decrepit general drones on, Zuko admires the long war table, painted to display the entire world and littered with pieces that make war seem like a big game. This will all be his someday. His eyes draw him down past the far end of the table, to the wall of fire beyond which a dark figure, the fire lord, sits on an ornate throne obscured by the dancing smoke.

Zuko stares at the man beyond the flames and their crackle fills his ears. He feels the eyes of his father staring back. Zuko snaps to attention, just as the old infirm general outlines a plan to send fresh recruits into combat against a heavily garrisoned earth kingdom fort. The prince asks the general how he expects the recruits to survive, his interruption sending a wave of murmurs down the table. The general clarifies, he doesn’t. Their sacrifice will be enough to weaken the earth kingdom army, so they can be wiped out by a second wave of more seasoned elite fire nation soldiers. The mutters of agreement wash over the room. The prince is horrified. He cannot believe what he is hearing and stands and speaks, in defense of the new recruits and their lives. To send loyal soldiers to their doom is nothing short of treasonous. The color drains from Iroh’s face as the wall of flames flares up. He clutches Zuko’s robes and advises Zuko to apologize or be honor bound to settle the matter in an Agni Kai.

Zuko sizes up the old general. What could this old man, so near to death, possibly do to him? His uncle hisses at him to be quick, but Zuko is not afraid and accepts the fire duel. The wall of fire burns high beyond him.

High above the Agni Kai arena, the crowd that lines the stands chant ceremoniously. Zuko kneels, his back to his opponent and the chanting ends. He breathes deep, spins and rises, and throws off his cloak to face… his father, the fire lord.

Zuko doesn’t understand, the general he spoke against is in the audience, smirking, next to a teenage girl and his uncle.

The Firelord fumes at him, it was his plan Zuko spoke against and it was he, the fire lord, Zuko disrespected. His booming voice echoes in the vast chamber. Zuko falls to his knees, he won’t fight his father. The fire lord demands that he stand and fight, but Zuko refuses. The fire lord will give him one more chance but Zuko bows further, touching his forehead to the hard stone floor. The Firelord calls upon the crowd to witness his son’s cowardly refusal to fight. Only a permanent lesson is appropriate for such shameful weakness, he growls as he approaches his grovelling son.

Slowly, Zuko lifts his head and begs his father for mercy, but there is none.

In the reflection of his left eye, a fireball heads towards Zuko’s tear-stricken face. A girl’s voiceover begins. “Long ago the four nations lived together in harmony, then, everything changed when the fire nation attacked.” The fireball grows larger and larger in his eye until the whole frame is filled with fire.

https://www.dreamstime.com/stock-illustration-yurt-vector-drawing-portable-round-tent-covered-skins-felt-isolated-white-backdrop-freehand-outline-black-ink-hand-image80545151

The fire in Zuko’s eyes becomes a campfire in a yurt. “Only the Avatar, master of all four elements, could stop them, but when the world needed him most, he vanished.”

Reveal, a pretty and bright water tribe girl, Katara, telling the story of the Avatar to the young children she babysits.

The kids beg Katara to waterbend for them. She’s not supposed to, and they moan and whine. To appease them, she waterbends the soup in the pot in a swirl. They beg for more and, though it is difficult for her, she manages to suspend an undulating ball of steaming water in the air. It is a magical moment, even for Katara, and they all watch in awe until she lowers it back down. The kids go nuts and all take turns trying to waterbend the soup, but it soon becomes clear that she’s the only one who can. As she watches them all around her, there is a sense of how lonely and isolated she really is.

The flaps fly open and a teenage boy on the brink of manhood barges in and asks what the ruckus is about. Katara blurts out Sokka’s name in surprise and passes the commotion off as just childish playing. She turns the conversation to his hunt. He pretends to be downcast, then reveals three small fish triumphantly. Katara squeals with joy and embraces him.

https://itadakimasuanime.files.wordpress.com/2014/11/seafood-shellfish-hitsugi-no-chaika-avenging-battle-06.png

Later, as the sun sets, the fish roast over the fire. Katara, Sokka, and an older woman, their grandmother, eat with appreciation as if a feast as meager as this is rare. Sokka finishes first and as he gets up, he rips his pants, again. He criticizes Katara, her stitching is still terrible, and since Grangran can’t do it anymore, it’s up to her. He reaches for his other pair of pants but stops when Katara admits that she hasn’t mended them yet. Sokka gets cross with her for not finishing her chores. Katara retorts that if he wasn’t so clumsy, he wouldn’t tear his pants. Sokka scolds Katara for just playing around and waterbending. Their grandmother drops her bowl. Quickly, Katara denies waterbending, but Sokka saw her. Grangran comes down on Katara: It is forbidden, but Katara can’t forbid who she is! Grangran snaps that waterbending will get them all killed. There is silence. Sokka brings the pants over to Katara. He puts food on the table, the least she could do is contribute. Defeated, Katara fetches her needle and thread but hesitates before she begins to work. She’s about to speak when Sokka pushes that his pants aren’t going to mend themselves.

Katara pops off that he can repair his own stupid pants and throws them in Sokka’s face and storms out into the night. Sokka sticks his head out and calls after her but Katara breaks into a sprint. She runs past her neighbors, out of the village and runs and runs and runs until she can run no more, collapsing at the top of a snow-white cliff, overlooking a frozen bay.

The cold light of the nearly full moon beams down upon her. She looks up, with tears in her eyes and screams out her frustration. She pounds her fists to the ground. The ice cracks inches from her fists and shatter the side of the icy cliff down down down into the middle of the bay. The ground shakes and Katara is avalanched over with the side of the cliff and is buried in the ice and snow.

She pushes a mound of snow off her with her waterbending. As she cleans herself off, she notices a soft glow emanating from the fissure in the ice. As she investigates, the light intensifies, rising, until the source, a glowing ice sphere, bursts through the floe before her.

Cracks splinter throughout the sphere causing the light inside to escape. The light is too much and Katara shields her eyes. The sphere goes dark for a second then a pillar of light erupts out the top.

Back in the village, Sokka mutters to himself as he struggles with a needle and thread. The light rips through the night sky and through the flap of the tent. His eyes widen. He whispers Katara’s name and grabs his spear.

A dazzling aurora fills the sky. The broken bay has frozen again by some mysterious power, leaving the landscape jagged and strange. A cloud of snow and swirling mists ebb and flow about the remains of the sphere. Katara approaches and sees in the remains a boy tattooed with arrows and a white six-legged bison, both fast asleep. She kneels beside the tattooed boy and touches his face. He dreamily opens his eyes and then closes them again as he mutters about how beautiful she is.

Katara is amused. The boy snaps awake, he’s not dreaming. He jumps out of Katara’s arms and admires his surroundings. With his hands on his hips, he announces that he has made it to the south pole as planned and immediately requests a snowball fight and before Katara can protest she’s pelted as he laughs. She pulls the snow off as the boy exclaims that she’s a waterbender, and that it is officially on! Katara puts on her game face and snowballs begin to fly back and forth. Katara hides behind a snowbank. She peeks out and sees the boy scooping snow into a ball, she turns back and uses her bending to mold her own. She peeks out again, but he has disappeared. Out of nowhere he lands behind her and unleashes an impossible number of snowballs. Katara screams as she’s hit. Sokka hears her scream and breaks into a sprint. He yells her name and runs towards the boy with his spear who dodges the thrust and the following swing. Katara, covered in snow, tries in vain to stop Sokka. Sokka thrusts again. The boy lands on the spearhead, faceplanting Sokka into the snow and bringing him to his knees. Katara, wipes the snow from her eyes and gets a full view of Sokka’s undercarriage. She shrieks, “Where are your pants!?” The boy helps him up. Sokka didn’t have time to put on pants, he thought she was in trouble. Katara is touched.

https://www.deviantart.com/akreon/art/Appa-132703919

A low grumble escapes the large, furry, six-legged creature lying motionless nearby. The boy climbs onto it and enthusiastically rouses it. Sokka asks, unsure, what the thing is, and the boy replies that it is Appa, his flying bison. Sokka expresses disbelief over the purported ability of the large bison to fly. The boy, looking around at his surroundings, asks if they live nearby, which triggers Sokka to tell Katara not to answer, as he is convinced that the mystery boy is a Fire Nation spy, a notion that Katara rejects sarcastically. The boy introduces himself as Aang, an airbender. Sokka tells him no one has seen an airbender in a hundred years. Aang laughs, they are very good at hiding. *

Aang offers to fly them back to their village if he can get shelter for the night. Katara happily agrees and climbs on with Aang, while Sokka refuses, convinced that Aang and Katara are crazy. Aang says, "Yip-yip!", and Appa leaps into the air, though immediately comes crashing down, while Sokka crows sarcastically about Appa's inability to fly, Aang decides Appa is still too tired to fly just yet. He looks over his shoulder and leans out to stare at Katara with a huge smile on his face, causing her, after a few long, awkward seconds, to ask, "Why are you smiling at me like that?" He replies, "Oh, I was smiling?" Sokka lifts his head back, groaning, while Katara, at first smiling at Aang's response, frowns back at Sokka. *

In the moonlight, they walk back to the village. A curious Katara asks Aang if he knows the fate of the Avatar; being an airbender, she knows that the Avatar was supposed to be an Air Nomad. Aang awkwardly states that he knew people that knew the Avatar but did not know the actual Avatar himself. A disappointed Katara drops the subject, leaving Aang looking guilty. *

Underneath the setting sun, a scout blows a horn atop a fire nation fort located at the foot of the southern air temple mount. The commander of the base, a fierce looking full-grown man, greets Iroh and Zuko in the courtyard, he makes sure to highlight Zuko’s scar to confirm that it’s him. Iroh shows his respect to Admiral Zhao, who asks what brings the exiled prince and his uncle before him.

Zuko demands access south, to the Antarctic seas, Zhao’s domain. This amuses Zhao and arouses his interest. Even if he had seen or heard any sign of the Avatar, he wouldn’t tell Zuko. Iroh reasons with him, then, that there would be no harm in letting them search. Zhao deflects and muses if Zuko’s quest to restore his honor will ever truly end. He continues that when he marries Zuko’s sister, Princess Azula, they will let him come live in the palace dungeon. Zuko retorts that Zhao is a fool if he thinks he can ask the fire lord for Azula’s hand in marriage. Zhao is confident, that when his mission is complete, the fire lord will offer his daughter’s hand. He denies Zuko’s request, his mission is too important, and sends Zuko back to his ship.

Later that night, Iroh finds Zuko glowering over the vast southern sea. He presses the prince to sleep, telling him that if he doesn't rest, he will, like his ancestors, fail to capture the Avatar even if they do find him. The prince refuses to his uncle’s wisdom, he will succeed because he seeks to regain his honor through the endeavor, a trait none of his ancestors shared with him. Iroh casts doubt on Zuko’s assumption that the avatar is in the southern water tribe. Zuko reveals his logic, that the old airbender has likely died, and a young waterbender would be next in line to be the avatar. If it was a northern child, the proud northerners would have announced it, like they did their runaway princess. Iroh still doubts, Zuko snaps at him if he has a better idea. The night sky lights up, the same pillar of light from when Aang was released, and the aurora casts a green glow all on the southern hemisphere. *

Zuko observes it through the end of his telescope, his eyes narrow.

From high above the fire nation fort, on a cliff side, a mysterious figure in leather armor watches Zuko’s ship leave and turn south in the dead of night. The figure stands, a beautiful young woman who’s white hair shimmers in the moonlight.

Back in the village, Katara leads Aang into a stable. They don’t have much room, so he’ll have to sleep in here with Appa. She gets him a blanket. As she hands it to him, there is a moment where they share eye contact. Katara breaks it off and leaves, but not before stealing one last glance at Aang.

That night, Aang has a dream that he and Appa fly through a terrible storm. They are buffeted by the full fury of the gale, struggle in vain to escape and eventually are forced under the waves. *

In his dream, Aang’s eyes and tattoos began to glow and he creates a giant bubble around himself and Appa. The bubble freezes over, encasing their figures in light which grows brighter and brighter.

In his sleep, Aang stirs and his tattoos dance luminously. The lights wax and wane in the slit of the stable door casting a strange light on the sleeping village.

The sun rises over an icy expanse the next morning. Aang throws open the flap to the yurt, but it is empty. Sokka and Katara and Grangran are already doing their duties. As he explores, the elderly villagers look upon him with suspicion. Aang bows to the villagers respectfully, eliciting a response of fear from them, and they hurriedly take a few steps away from the airbender. *

He hears Katara calling his name. Eager to impress her, he jumps high in the air and lands in front of her and her wards. The kids go nuts. They goad him into showing off, which he obliges.

Aang attracts quite a crowd, almost the entire village. He finishes his trick. Everyone is stunned. One villager erupts in applause, the others glare her into silence. The kids tackle Aang and climb all over him. His airbending is even cooler than Katara’s waterbending.

A stir in the crowd. Katara is a waterbender? Katara feels the eyes of the villagers on her. Grangran assures the other villagers that Katara is not a waterbender, as the crowd whisper amongst themselves and go about their business. She gives the younger children the evil eye and they scamper off screaming and grabs Katara and Aang to throw them both into the tent. She looks Aang square in the face and tells him that it would be uncustomary to kick him out without breakfast but that the airbender is no longer welcome here. She goes to find Sokka. There is quiet. Aang timidly asks Katara why she refuses to waterbend. She tells him it is forbidden. Aang doesn’t understand why. The waterbenders get taken away, by firebenders. There’s a war. Aang didn’t know of any war.

Just then, Grangran and Sokka return. Sokka has checked the morning traps and has brought oysters. He passes them out, they each pry them open and slurp theirs down, except Aang, who holds it awkwardly. Sokka apologizes and opens it for him. Aang makes a face, “Do you have anything vegetarian?” he asks. Sokka aghast, scoots away from him. Aang realizes he’s made a faux pas. He corrects himself. “Can I please have something vegetarian?” Grangran and Katara share a glance. Sokka doesn’t have any vegetarian options except for sea prunes for Grangran and they are nasty.

Grangran throws a shell at Sokka and thrusts a bowl of sea prunes into Aang’s hands. His stomach growls, and he eats one. He likes them!

Sokka does not get Aang. He and Katara share a look of disgust as Aang gorges himself. Katara leans over to Sokka and whispers in his ear that Aang doesn’t know about the war. Sokka asks how that is possible: the war has been going on for a hundred years.

Meanwhile, Zuko spies the village through a telescope. Everything is going according to plan. Just then, from around an iceberg, an armada of three of Zhao’s fastest destroyers cut Zuko’s Battleship off and he is forced to change course to avoid them.

Zhao boards Zuko’s ship. Zuko greets him, amazed he found the time to chase him and hopes his all-important mission wasn't jeopardized by this detour. Zhao admits it was easy to catch up with them, the battleship was built like a tank to hold a fully realized Avatar, which makes it slow, but necessary for his capture, which is why Zhao is commandeering Zuko’s ship. Zuko protests, the Avatar is his. Zhao reminds Zuko that he ignored a direct order and is trespassing in his domain. Zuko spits out that he doesn't take orders from anyone, especially a low born upstart rat like Zhao. Zhao's smile fades as he orders his men to take the prince into custody. Two guards grab Zuko arms, but he throws them off easily. He points at Zhao and challenges him to an Agni Kai, winner gets the ship. Zhao laughs, and asks how Zuko plans to survive stranded on an iceberg without a ship, doesn't he remember the last time he did an Agni Kai? Zuko will never forget.

Outside their village, Grangran leads Appa with a rope as Aang, Katara, and Sokka head out with her. Aang tells them that it was very nice to meet them, and he’ll come visit the South Pole again soon. Sokka explains to Aang they aren’t actually in the south pole, they are much further north, less than a day to the southern air temple. Katara extrapolates: There’s nothing left at the south pole.

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https://www.masterfile.com/image/en/679-07608205/moon-rising-over-trees-and-buildings-at-night

The tribes used to be connected by the moon gate.

Under the light of the full moon, the portal would open and northerners and southerners could walk between the poles via the spirit world to mingle and trade and visit family and make the pilgrimage to the spirit oasis. The moon gate connected the north and south cultures. Until the fire nation destroyed everything in south and the portal was destroyed.

Flashback: Fiery projectiles rain down on the southern capital and reduce it to rubble.

Everybody who was trapped in the south had no choice but to move away from the ruins because there was no food. The north pole is floating ice, and the waterbenders can fish beneath the ice year-round, but south pole is above frozen ground and there you can’t grow food in frozen ground. Grangran interrupts and tells the airbender that it’s time for him to go. As he turns to leave, Aang asks if they are sure the south pole is really destroyed. Sokka assures him sarcastically, that yeah, they're sure, and glares at Aang. Aang posits that the monks at the southern air temple would have told him, they tell him a lot of things, after all, they told him that he was the- he doesn’t finish his sentence. He climbs on Appa and they trot off. Katara calls for him to wait. As she approaches, she tells him the only thing they have at the southern air temple anymore is a fire nation fort. Aang looks at her with a twinkle in his eye and assures her, there are air nomad monks.

He extends his hand to her. Grangran yells that she’s taking too long and though Katara takes a breath, she doesn’t look back as she takes Aang’s hand and climbs aboard. Grangran pushes Sokka to stop her. Katara wraps her arms around Aang as he tells her to hang on. “Appa, Yip yip!” Appa grumbles and begins to move just as Sokka reaches them. He grabs Appa’s fur and tries to pull them back but ends up getting pulled himself and has to run to keep up. Aang leads them straight towards the edge of the cliff and Sokka screams that they are all going to die! He shuts his eyes and holds tight as Appa leaps and they disappear over the edge. Grangran cries out for them and falls to her knees. Appa and the gang reappear, flying. Sokka freaks as he clutches Appa's fur. Aang tells Sokka that when he says let go, to let go. Sokka protests but Aang leads Appa into a barrel roll and yells at Sokka to let go which he does out of instinct. The momentum flips Sokka up and over and plomp, directly seated behind Katara on Appa’s back. The daring move has made Katara cling to Aang close and she blushes.

Aang cheers and Grangran watches as they fly towards the sun.

The sun is directly overhead as the Agni Kai begins.

Admiral Zhao and Prince Zuko crouch, back to back on the deck of the battleship. Shedding their capes, they turn to face each other. Iroh counsels Zuko to remember his basics, as they are his greatest assets, but Zuko seems not to heed his uncle's wisdom, instead stating, simply and forcefully, that he will not allow himself to lose. As he assumes his stance, Zhao, doing the same, taunts Zuko, saying: "This will be over quickly." *

The two opponents stare fiercely into each other's unblinking eyes for a brief moment, waiting for the other to strike; it is Zuko who begins the duel with a series of fire blasts from his hands and feet. *

Zhao seems more than a match for Zuko, effortlessly avoiding and nullifying all of his fire blasts. As the prince catches his breath, Iroh continues to advise Zuko to remember his basics. Zhao throws his own volley of fire blasts; Zuko is able to block each attack, but he is slowly forced back with every parry he makes. For the final blast, Zhao, using both fists, sends a ball of fire that connects solidly with Zuko, knocking him to the ground. Pressing his advantage, Zhao leaps into the air, covers the distance separating him and Zuko, and prepares a finishing blast aimed directly for the prince's exposed face. An instant before contact, Zuko rolls out of the way, rises with a kicking flourish, and knocks Zhao out of his stance. *

With new-found vigor, Zuko releases a series of low attacks that cause Zhao to retreat, finishing him with a jet of fire from a full body kick. Prone, Zhao tells Zuko to do it, to give him a scar like his own, but Zuko aims beside his face instead. As the victorious prince walks away, a beaten and furious Zhao sends a jet of fire at Zuko's back. Iroh intervenes, however, stopping the attack with his bare hand and throwing the admiral to the ground. As Iroh stands over Zhao, Zuko tries to attack Zhao once more, but his uncle tells him not to taint his victory by retaliating. Iroh lectures Zhao about the dishonor he has brought upon himself through his actions and states that his nephew, even in exile, has proven himself to be more honorable. *

From the crow's nest, a scout shouts. They all crane their necks to see a flying bison with a water tribe girl and boy and air nomad fly far above them.

Up on Appa, Sokka refuses to open his eyes as he clutches Katara's garments. Katara lets him know that he's missing the sights. Aang spies the fire navy ships below. The fear deep inside him grows. He’s never seen fire navy ships this far south.

Both Zhao and Zuko blink in their telescopes. Iroh suggests they try working together as the bison disappears into the clouds.

Aang and Sokka and Katara fly through clouds and above mists and fog. Sokka asks if they are they yet. Aang spots the temple at the top of a mountain and they fly closer. Katara remarks on how beautiful it is.

From a window, the white-haired girl watches them all land in a sky bison pen and jump off. She disappears into the shadows. Appa grazes happily.

Sokka wishes he could eat, that ride took longer than he thought. Katara shushes him. Aang calls out to his people, but nobody answers. The temple appears to be abandoned. They walk up the temple steps. Sokka asks Aang if the airbenders have any food and is berated by Katara for being one of the first outsiders to see an airbender temple and he can only think with his stomach. She apologizes for Sokka. Aang insists the airbenders are simply hiding. There are lots of hiding places. They walk through a large archway into a great hall beyond. In the rafters above, the white-haired girl shifts into position. As Aang, Katara, and Sokka pass beneath her, she drops a net down upon them. The girl lands and knocks them off their feet and they fall to the ground in a pile.

She brandishes a staff at the subdued trio. “Are you firebenders?” She barks. They tell her they are not. “That’s just what a firebender would say!” They assure her they are not firebenders. They are water tribe, and Aang is an airbender. She releases them and introduces herself as Princess Yue of the northern water tribe. Sokka is impressed and bows, “your majesty,” Katara does a stiff movement she would call a curtsey. Aang recognizes the staff and grabs it but Yue holds fast. It’s a sacred air nomad staff, it’s not to be touched by outsiders. Yue is nonplussed. Sokka tells Aang that he can’t speak to a princess like that. Aang takes a deep breath and bellows, “LET IT GO!” His voice echoes in the halls. Yue lets go of the staff. Aang apologizes for yelling and inspects the staff. Yue never got the names of the other two, Sokka and Katara. Yue is incredulous, “You are Sokka and Katara!? Your father saved my life! Hakoda’s ship arrived at our capital a year ago and he was granted audience before me and my father. My father refused to help, and, I had to make a choice. I ran away and boarded your father’s ship in secret with the moon scroll.”

“We’re going to reopen the moon portal!”

But where is their father now? “He was taken prisoner by the fire nation. The last thing he said was he’d be a boomerang, but, I never got to ask him what that means.” “Means he’ll be back,” Sokka explains. He shows her the boomerang his father gave him when he left. Aang asks her how she got here. Yue continues, “I was found by a fisherman and made my way south. I got marooned here about a month ago after my ship sank. Been looking for a way off ever since, but there’s so many fire nation... We could fly to the south pole on a sky bison, though.” Someone’s stomach growls. Katara admonishes Sokka. It wasn’t him, it was Aang! Yue calculates that there is enough time to eat.

https://www.mostphotos.com/fi-fi/2720912/plum-orchard

The air temple orchard is overgrown, though a thousand years of tending have given a sense of order to the older trees. Aang hopes they like mountain peaches as he hops high in the air and grabs one. He lands and hands a peach to Katara and jumps back into the air. Sokka, asks her for it, salivating, and Katara licks it all over, much to Sokka’s chagrin. Aang lands with an armful of peaches and one in his mouth. He hands them out. They sit and enjoy a moment of peace.

Yue asks how the boomerang works. Sokka hands it to her and instructs her how to throw it. She does her best, but it is a terrible throw. She puts her hands up to her mouth and yells “Come back!” Sokka offers to go get it, but she should, she threw it, and they both end up going together. When they find it, Sokka throws it to demonstrate. Yue commends him on the throw. Sokka smiles goofily and gets lost in her eyes. They smile at each other and the boomerang runs smack into the side of Sokka’s head and he yelps in pain. Aang and Katara come running. Though he’s bleeding and wincing, Yue laughs and says it’s nothing a waterbender couldn’t heal. Katara isn’t sure what she means. Yue furthers, waterbenders can heal, she thought everybody knew that, especially waterbenders.

Yue pours some water into Katara’s hands. Katara is unsure what to do so she waterbends the water onto Sokka’s cut. Nothing happens. She closes her eyes and concentrates. The water releases a soft glow. Katara gasps and her eyes pop open. The wound has closed and there is no scar. Yue tells Katara that she just did some high-level bending. Aang lights up, he knows where the airbenders are.

Aang leads them to an intricately carved door. If the airbenders are hiding, it will be here. They have storerooms and water reserves deep in the temple. It’s his last hope. Only high level airbending can open this door, he reveals, and he bends two focused currents of air into the large doors' ornate locking mechanism, and a strange hauntingly beautiful tone resonates. The locks disengage, and the doors open slowly. Aang walks into the darkened room as Katara, Sokka, and Yue follow him.

Aang calls out to the airbenders. The room is pitch black and his footsteps echo. Katap. Katap. Katap. Skrit. He steps on something. It is a wooden medallion. He picks it up and flashes back to a happy looking older airbender monk: Gyatso, wearing medallion on a necklace.

Monk Gyatso is Aang’s sensei. Aang in the flashback has no tattoos yet and runs up to him calling his name and they embrace. Gyatso leads Aang out of the wind lock doors and onto the terrace before it.

Flying bison of all sizes fill the sky above. Gyatso tells Aang to call to him. “Appa!” Aang yells. Appa roars and dives down to Aang leaving his siblings and his much larger mother behind. Appa nuzzles and licks Aang as he laughs and laughs and laughs.

https://fineartamerica.com/featured/bison-skull-sean-griffin.html

The memory fades as Aang’s eyes adjust to the shadows. He sees a sky bison skull among bones and piles of soot and ashes, all over the room. Firebenders were here. Katara gasps. “Oh no.”

Aang falls to his knees. He is not alright. His eyes and tattoos light up. Wind begins to circle around him. Sokka freaks, “Is he glowing? How is he glowing?!” Katara calls for Aang. The winds get faster and faster, lifting Aang into the air. Yue makes them take cover. The soot and bones in the room get caught up in the whirlwind, disintegrating into brown and black dust and debris. Aang’s eyes, emanating white light, widen. The swirling blackness closes in on him. He shuts his eyes and pushes the darkness away, forcing all the ashes out the temple. Aang stops glowing and he drifts to the ground.

Outside, the ash cloud drifts away.

Yue, Katara, and Sokka cough around the corner. Katara runs to Aang and takes him into her lap. He stirs. It really has been one hundred years. She cradles his head and opens up to him that she and Sokka lost their mother to the fire nation. Even though his people are gone, he has found a new family: herself and Sokka. He looks Katara in the eyes and tells her with conviction that he will never firebend. Never ever. He sits up and hugs Katara as she mulls his statement.

From their ships, the firebenders notice the ash cloud drifting down from the temple as they pull into the harbor of the fort. Something must be going on. They form a squad of male and female fire nation soldiers fresh from the base. Zhao tells Iroh that he is too old and slow for this mission and Zuko is free to stay behind as well, if he doesn’t think he can make the climb. Zuko is ready. Iroh warns Zuko that Zhao is not to be trusted. Zuko assures his uncle, he can handle Zhao. From the battlements, Iroh watches the troops begin the hike. He puts on a cloak and sneaks out after them.

Later, the sun sets over the mountain peaks. Aang and the others bring flowers to a stone alter. The medallion sits in the middle of it. They pile the flowers around it. Aang sets a peach down with the flowers and steps back. Peaches were Gyatso’s favorite, he tells them. He closes his eyes. They all do. Aang gives the airbender prayer of mourning. The sound of wings. They open their eyes and a winged lemur eats the peach on the altar.

Aang laughs, a long clear laugh as he takes the lemur, lazily eating the peach, into his hands and names him Momo. The wind blows through the flowers.

Night falls. In a clearing in the orchard, Aang strokes the sleeping lemur as Sokka builds a fire and Yue puts peaches on the ends of sticks. She pokes fun at his fire building technique. Sokka has been building fires his whole life. Yue retorts that she’s only been doing it for the last year and she’s already better then him. They race to light the fire and Yue wins, but just barely. “Best two out of three?” Yue asks Sokka with a cheeky smile. Katara returns with a bucket filled with well water.

The peaches roast on the sticks as the fire casts an amber yellow on the kids’ faces. “So, are we going to talk about what happened?” Sokka asks. Yue and Katara avoid his line of questioning. Sokka extrapolates, “Aang was glowing. I haven’t heard of a glowing person before.” Aang is silent. Yue speaks up, “I have.”

“When I was born I was very sick and very weak. Most babies cry when they're born, but I was born as if I was asleep, my eyes closed. They told my mother and father I was going to die. That night, beneath the full moon, he brought me to the spirit oasis and placed me in the pond and pleaded with the spirits to save me. I began to glow and my hair turned white. I opened my eyes and began to cry, and they knew I would live. That's why my mother named me Yue. For the moon.”

Yue explains that Aang must be filled with immense spiritual power. Aang is silent. Sokka pipes up that it was the same light from when Aang came out of the iceberg. Still Aang is silent. Katara scoots closer to him and prods him why he told her he would never firebend. She asks him if he is the avatar. Aang stands, surprising the lemur and it scurries away. He never wanted to be the Avatar. He only ever wanted to be normal and play airball with the other kids. He didn't ask to be the avatar! They were going to send him away, to the eastern temple where he would be safer. Which means he was in danger. Avatars aren't supposed to know they are the avatar until they are 16 because: what if they told you, you were supposed to save the world at twelve years old? That’s why he ran away. He was going to come back but ran into a storm and somehow he lost 100 years.

Sokka is confused, if he's the avatar, how come he can’t bend the other elements? Aang doesn't know how yet.

Yue smiles. Out of her pack she produces the moon scroll.

In it is more than just how to open the moon gate, but also advanced waterbender techniques as well. She gives it to Aang and suggests Katara give him his first lesson. Sheepishly, Katara unravels the scroll. There’s writing, but she doesn't know how to read. Aang and Yue are taken aback by this, but Sokka doesn’t know how to read either. They have chores all day, there wouldn't be any time for reading, even if they had books. Yue sadly remarks that everyone in the Northern tribe knows how to read and apologizes that life in the south has gotten so hard. Aang comes closer and reads the scroll to Katara. Water is the element of versatility. It is a liquid, a solid, a gas. Gifted waterbenders can even be healers. He smiles and Katara blushes and Sokka touches his head where the wound would have been. Water is Tui and La, Push and Pull, and the earliest waterbenders learned how to push and pull the ocean like the moon with its tides. The moon is the source of power for all waterbenders and they are strongest when the moon is full.

They look up at the moon above. Aang remarks that they will be really strong tonight. Yue informs Aang, it's almost full. It's waxing, it will be full tomorrow. Katara admits that from studying the drawings, she doesn't know any of these moves. Aang asks her what she does know. She smiles. She takes him by the hand down to the well. Katara thrusts her hand out over the edge of the well and instructs Aang to do the same. She moves her hand up and down. Aang isn't sure but she tells him to feel the water, even though it’s not attached to his body. Splashes echo out of the deep. Katara says “Ok, I'll pull it and you push it.” Splash. “Ok, now you pull it and I push it.” Splishy splash. He feels it! Katara asks Aang to pull the water up with her. Aang is surprised on how it's almost like air, but heavy.

Together, they lift a large ball of water high into the air. Aang chuckles and starts pushing it over Katara's head, he lets go. Katara closes her eyes and shrieks but opens them when she realizes she's holding up the water by herself.

She celebrates and loses her concentration and drops the water and gets soaked. Aang laughs and she douses him with the puddle around her. Aang laughs again and dries himself off with a whirlwind. Katara, drenched, asks if he could dry her off too. He tries. Her hair is swept back and poofs out. They both laugh. They gaze into each other’s eyes. Between their faces, the light of the campfire sparkles in the distance.

The campfire suddenly flares up a pillar of fire 10 feet high. Sokka yelps. Aang and Katara turn to face the flames. A rustle behind them. Fire nation soldiers! They throw their spears. Aang whisks Katara down behind the well with him. Katara begins to panic. Aang tells her to use the water.

They lift a spout out of the well and repel the foot soldiers. They run towards the campsite. Yue and Sokka are held captive by elite firebenders while Zhao taunts her. He’s been looking for the princess’s hiding place. Zuko concludes she’s the reason he’s locked down the southern sea. Zhao nods.

Katara and Aang come running to a stop. Zhao is immediately taken by the air nomad boy. Where did he come from? Where are the other air nomads? Zuko wastes no time in taking Katara prisoner. He advises her not to struggle. Zhao stares at Aang while confirming with Zuko that the girl is indeed the Avatar. She's the one from the village, the one waterbender in all the south, therefore, she must be the avatar. Aang shouts that she's not the avatar. Zuko sizes up the air nomad boy. Then who is? Katara tries to stop him but Aang tells them that he is. Zuko retorts that he couldn't possibly be the avatar, he’s just a child! Zhao isn't so sure. The avatar would be over a hundred years old, Zuko reminds Zhao, they have the princess, they have the avatar, but if he wants to waste his time with an air nomad liar, he is welcome to. Zhao willing to be convinced, leaves Aang.

Soldiers take Katara, Yue and Sokka and form ranks.

Aang drops out of the sky in front of the squadron. He declares himself the avatar and points his staff at the firebenders. They laugh at him. He calls for Appa. From above, Appa roars, then dives and the solders duck and cower. Aang makes an air scooter and zips through all the solders like a pinball. Appa lands where Aang was standing and charges the soldiers with his horns, they scramble to their feet to fend off Appa. Some run. The distraction gives Yue the chance to escape. She knocks her captor in the gut and off of her and throws him into Sokka's guard. Aang takes out the bender holding Katara, and they struggle to get the chains off.

Zhao calls for the men to form rank. Someone yells, “the prisoners are escaping!” Zuko and Zhao leap into the chaos. They arrive to hear Aang give up on getting the chains off of Katara and that they need get to Appa to escape. Zhao is a clever man, he turns and runs to Appa, manifesting a fiery whip in each hand. Zuko fire charges into the group and separates Katara from the rest. Aang spins in and spins Katara out into Yue and Sokka’s arms. Aang and Zuko duel. Katara won’t leave Aang so Sokka picks her up and puts her over his shoulder. Katara begs Sokka to stop, but then changes her mind and tells Sokka to take her to the well. Yue tells them she will get the key to the shackles and joins Aang against Zuko. Appa runs about the courtyard chasing a hapless soldier in circles until Zhao faces off against the beast.

Aang dodges Zuko’s fireball as Appa wails in fear from afar. In his distracted moment Zuko gets past Aang but runs right into Yue. Aang is torn, does he run to help Appa or Yue? Yue tells him that she’s got this, and he goes to rescue Appa from Zhao’s torment. Yue gets in close, Zuko is on the defensive. He dodges past her, and she doesn’t follow. She has pickpocketed the key.

Sokka and Katara are at the well and Katara is bringing up all the water she can with her hands behind her back. Zuko comes racing towards them. Sokka screams and Katara throws the water at Zuko, and completely misses him. Katara asks if she got him. Zuko didn’t even get wet. Sokka throws the boomerang and Zuko has to duck. Zuko rises to his feet and the boomerang comes back knocking Zuko’s helmet. The water pools by Zuko’s feet as he fixes his helmet and with menacing rage makes fire daggers in his hands. Katara closes her eyes. She spreads her fingers then clenches her fists with a quick breath out and the water freezes and Zuko feet are frozen to the ground. Yue slides by Zuko on the ice twirling the key on her finger.

Yue unlocks Katara’s shackles as, in the distance, a blast of fire. Appa roars and flees into the air. Aang screams his name as he runs after him, but Appa won’t come back.

Zhao turns to Aang with a sadistic look in his eyes and a fiery whip in each hand. Katara, Sokka, and Yue come running. They try to convince Aang he has no other choice, he has to run. If he’s captured, who will save them? Fire nation soldiers begin to compose themselves surrounding the group. Zuko, fuming melts his feet. Aang pops the wings out of the staff. It’s also is a glider. He runs and takes flight on the orchard path. Zhao barks a command and all the firebending infantry call out and punch the sky sending fireballs into the air above and beyond and all around Aang. The fireballs arc in the sky and land all over the temple. The peach trees left and right burn and Aang lands among them. The sight of temple burning sends him into a rage. Aang glows. The wind picks up and blows all the fires out. Zhao and Zuko see. He is the avatar. With the fires out, the avatar spirit leaves Aang and the light of his tattoos fade and he lands. Zhao and Zuko race towards him; the chase is on.

http://kidskunst.info/linked/history-of-stairs-ancient-stairs-686973746f7279.htm

Aang runs through a large archway and into a great stone rotunda with a corkscrew staircase in the center. He runs at the speed of wind up the staircase to the top. Zuko and Zhao are hot on his heels. At the top of the stairs there’s a hallway and at the end of the hallway Aang finds the door to the jump room locked. Zhao leisurely jogs, beast like, up the stairs. Zuko fire leaps up the sides to just beneath the top. Zuko grabs the edge of the top with the tips of his fingers. He pulls himself up. Desperate, Aang hits the lock with the staff and it breaks open. The door swings off the hinges to a launch pad at the top of the mountain just above the tree line. With freedom before him, he turns around and faces Zuko as the prince rises to his feet.

Zuko promises Aang that if he comes with Zuko now, he and his friends will be unharmed. Aang asks how he can trust Zuko. The fire nation invaded and killed his people. Zuko retorts it was the airbenders’ aggression and illegal settlements on Fire nation land that brought this upon them. Aang claims the airbenders are pacifist. Zuko clarifies then, that Aang won’t just windblast him off and takes a step forward. Aang also takes a step forward. The people who lived here were mostly children. He accuses the fire nation of genocide. Zuko doesn’t want to believe it, but Aang’s conviction has awoken what he knows to be true, and he falters. Aang is still very vulnerable and emotional. His tattoos light up, his eyes glow, the wind rustles around his clothing: the avatar state emerges.

Zhao comes around the corner, not even out of breath. He sees Aang’s glow and smiles his crazy smile and charges Aang. Under the state of the Avatar, Aang is stiffer, more confident. He sends a blast of air with his staff down the hallway at Zhao, knocking him off the stairs. Zuko jumps after him and catches Zhao’s hand and saves him from falling. Zhao glares menacingly at Zuko as he pulls him up. The Avatar spirit fades as Aang realizes he just attempted murder. His actions horrify and confuse him. Tears stream down his face.

Zhao kneels, winded from the air blast. Aang turns to flee. Zuko takes off after him. Aang activates his glider and throws it out the window and leaps out after it, catching it and the wind. For a second, it seems like he’ll get away but then Zuko jumps after him at full speed and grabs hold of his legs, causing them to spiral and crash in the clearing below. Zhao approaches the edge and looks down. He jumps off. Aang and Zuko lie in a crumple before him. Aang tries to get up, but he can’t. Zuko is also injured. Zhao gags Aang and shackles his hands and feet. He goes to Zuko and helps him up. Zhao compliments him on his willingness to sacrifice everything, maybe they aren’t so different. Zhao throws Zuko towards the edge of the cliff and fireballs him off.

Aang watches, in a daze, as Zuko disappears into the forest below. From afar, Iroh is lit up by the light of the fireball. Zhao lumbers back from the edge and picks Aang up and over his shoulder as Aang passes out. Darkness.

A knock on a heavy iron battleship door. Iroh opens it and stands in the doorway. A messenger tells Iroh to hurry, there’s been an accident with the Prince. Iroh pushes through the crowd to the deck of the boat where Zhao meets him. Zhao proclaims to Iroh that the avatar threw the prince off a cliff. A search party is to be sent immediately to find his body for proper burial. Iroh spits and claims he never liked the sullen prince who had no respect for his elders and they can leave the body on the mountain for all he cares. He asks if the Avatar is in custody. Aang, gagged and bound, is carried by two large soldiers. Iroh leads them into the bowels of the ship. The battleship is a marvel of engineering and the prison for the avatar is state of the art. Even so, Zhao expected more. Iroh states that it’s mobile, self-sufficient, heavily guarded, and the safest place for the avatar to be.

In the avatar’s cell, Zhao has Aang’s arms chained up and his legs chained down. Iroh gets into Aang’s face, “So this is the great Avatar. Master of all the elements. I don't know how you've managed to elude the Fire Nation for a hundred years, but your little game of hide and seek is over.”

Zhao ungags Aang and asks him how it feels to be the only airbender left. “Do you miss your people? Don't worry, you won't be killed like they were.” Zhao turns to leave. Aang takes a deep inhale and breath blasts Zhao, knocking him to the floor. Zhao is triggered, and fiery. Iroh helps bring him under control. Zhao tells Aang, “Blow all the wind you want, but your situation is futile. See, if you die you will just be reborn and the Fire Nation would have to start searching all over again. So, I'll keep you alive, but just barely.” Zhao leaves in a huff. Uncle Iroh glares at the remaining guards and asks for a minute alone with the thing that killed his nephew. They oblige.

Iroh approaches Aang. Aang shies away, but Iroh lays a gentle hand on his shoulder and assures him he is not like the others. He reveals that he knows Aang didn't kill Zuko but that it doesn't matter because no one will believe Aang anyway. Aang asks what's going to happen to him. Iroh assures Aang that when the time comes, he will help Aang escape, but first, he needs Aang's help. He needs to know about the waterbending girl.

In the prison hold, Katara sits comforting Grangran. Grangran is babbling on about how the fire nation came not long after they left and rounded up the villagers onto their ships but Katara's eyes fix on Sokka. He’s worried about Yue. Katara thinks they should be worried about all of them. A guard rattles the door and tells them to shut up. Iroh enters, carrying a bucket of water. The guard tries to stop him from entering the cell but Iroh tells him the orders are from Zhao. The prisoners haven’t been watered all day. Besides, Iroh asks the guard if he thinks the dragon of the west can’t handle one young waterbending girl. The guard apologizes and opens the door. Iroh enters the cell, kneels, and takes out a ladle and invites the villagers to drink. They do not move. He drinks some water himself. Sokka takes the bucket and gently helps Katara quench their grandmother’s thirst. The bucket is passed around and Katara brings the empty bucket and the ladle to Iroh. He tells her, “Katara, I have spoken with Aang. He needs you to come with me.”

Iroh takes Katara into his cabin. On the bed, Zuko lies suffering, his stomach wrapped in bandages from Zhao’s fireball. Iroh asks Katara to heal him. Katara doesn’t want to, Zuko put shackles on her and he is after Aang. Iroh understands why she wouldn’t want to. Zuko attacked her, he’s an angry young man, he’s fire nation, but he’s the only good thing in Iroh’s life. Maybe she can see past the anger and the pain and see that he has suffered at the hands of the fire nation, too. Katara eyes the scar on Zuko’s face.

Reluctantly, Katara dips her hand in a bucket by the bedside. Water clings to her hands and she brings them to Zuko’s bandages. The water glows for a few moments and Zuko is soothed. Katara asks to be taken back to the cell. Iroh sneaks Katara through the ship. He takes her back into the prison hold and in with the rest of the villagers. As he locks them in, Sokka asks him about Yue. Iroh tells him, she is with Zhao.

In Zuko’s former quarters, Zhao sits beneath a rack of twin swords, eating a feast alone. Yue is escorted in. She has been bathed and dressed in her gown from the night she left the north. She is seated in front of Zhao. He invites her to eat. He tells her about the captain who found the dress of the northern water tribe princess on a water tribe boat headed for the south pole. Yue asks what Zhao wants. Zhao wants peace, a permanent peace with the water nation. The southerners have wasted their land, like the earthbending savages and the airbenders before them. The north will be safe, it’s water, the fire nation doesn’t want water. The southerners can move to the north. Yue doesn’t understand. Zhao tells her, he’s going to help her open the moon gate. Isn’t that what she wants? Yue asks about the avatar. Zhao tells her she can either leave here and return home with her people or join him in prison. Yue wants to know where her people are. Zhao will take her there.

The prison hold door is flung open. Zhao leads Yue to the southern people. She sees them locked in a crowded cell. She announces that they will all be taken to the North Pole as her new subjects. Zhao will allow them to open the moon gate to let the water tribe members through to their sister tribe. However, the southerners will never return to the south. This news is upsetting, the south is their home. Yue assures them, this is their only option. Zhao tells the Princess its time for her to return, Yue asks to stay. Zhao locks her up in with the rest of the tribe. A soldier enters the hold and tells Zhao they have the beast.

On the deck of the ship, fire nation soldiers struggle to restrain Appa with ropes. Zhao appears. Appa wails and struggles harder. Zhao delights in his fear and what a fine present Appa will be for his bride to be. They take Appa below deck and set sail. Momo watches from the walls of the fort. He glides down and reaches the battleship and crawls through a vent in the side of the ship. He hears familiar voices, Sokka and Yue huddled close. Sokka asks her what the north is like. Yue tells him that it’s different. She has responsibilities, she’s betrothed. Sokka doesn’t understand she’s to be married.

Yue asks if she can do something she’s wanted to do since she first saw Sokka. He nods and she kisses him. She curls into his little spoon as he holds her. Momo gags and continues through the vents.

Momo passes by Iroh and Zuko in his cabin. Zuko is feeling much better after being healed. Iroh tells Zuko that Zhao captured the bison and maybe they can use him to gain the Avatar’s trust. Zuko bets that if the Avatar escapes under Zhao’s command, it will be a huge blow to his plans. There is a knock at the door. Zuko hides in the closet. Iroh answers, it is Zhao. Zhao wants Iroh to know that he grieves for the prince and they will want to get word to the fire lord, but first, Iroh is invited to the north pole, as Zhao’s advisor. Iroh asks if Zhao meant the south pole and Zhao smiles and leaves. Zuko peeks out of the closet as Iroh shuts the door.

Momo continues on through the vents. Finally, he finds Aang’s cell. Aang is delighted to see Momo. Momo gnaws at the shackles at Aang’s feet, to no avail. He curls up around Aang’s neck, giving him comfort deep in the bowels of the battleship.

https://www.popularmechanics.com/adventure/outdoors/a19228/ice-breakers-coast-guard-great-lakes/

Late day, over the icy seas, icebreaker ships take the battleship as far south as they can. The firebenders load sleds and snowmobiles with their prisoners for the south pole. Katara is lead out, the only prisoner in full shackles and even a muzzle. Iroh walks down the gangplank after the last of the prisoners. He passes a soldier, there is a familiar scar beneath the helm. The two nod to each other and Iroh joins Zhao on his sled. The fire nation troops take off, roaring into the distance.

On the ship, a soldier stands guard outside of Zuko’s former room. There is a clanging at the end of the hallway. The soldier investigates and is incapacitated by a masked man. The man enters Zuko’s old quarters and stares at the twin swords on the mantle. The door is left ajar and the swords above the mantle are gone.

Down in the prison hold, four guards play a game in front of Appa’s cell. One of them asks why they need so many men to guard this beast. Another guard tells him, that he’s a gift for Princess Azula from Zhao just as Aang will be a gift to the fire lord. There is a bang down the hall. The guards all jump at the noise.

The helmet of a Fire Nation soldier rolls down the hallway toward them. When one guard investigates alone, the other three suddenly see a flame erupt from the hallway and hear the muffled sounds of combat and of chains being strung up. When two more guards follow after him, they find their companion strung up with his hands to the ceiling. The masked man, clinging to the ceiling, wraps a chain around a hand of each guard and drops down, simultaneously pulling the guards up. The last guard standing in front of Appa’s cell, having heard the scuffle, takes his horn to sound the alarm, though before he could blow the instrument, it is knocked out of his hands by a well-aimed knife. Noticing a figure running toward him, he firebends, though the masked man extinguishes the fire by throwing water and proceeds to sweep the legs from underneath the guard with the bucket. *

Appa groans in interest as the masked man offers him some hay.

Inside his cell, Aang hears a commotion and eyes the door with apprehension. Momo hisses at the door as the lock is being turned. Aang gasps as a masked figure enters with dual broadswords. Momo attacks the figure and is easily subdued when the figure reveals Appa in the hallway. The man unlocks Aang’s chains and retreats to Appa without saying a word. Aang asks him who he is, what is going on, and wonders if the man is there to rescue him. The figure does not respond, and they are interrupted by the sound of the alarm. He signals for the Avatar to follow him. *

Aang, Momo, and the masked figure ride Appa through the halls of the ship. They burst through the door to the deck and are surrounded by soldiers. The masked man draws his swords but Aang yells, “yip-yip,” and they take to the sky. Firebenders all around them shoot projectiles the sky bison dodges or are deflected by the swords. The soldiers’ last hope is artillery that they point at the escapees. FIRE! A rocket heads directly towards the bison. The masked figure taps Aang on the shoulder, but Aang is concentrating. The figure shakes him. Aang sees the rocket but doesn’t know what it is. The figure unsheathes his swords and throws them at the rocket causing it to explode and sending the riders tumbling through the sky in the resulting shockwave. The firebenders below argue about who’s idea it was to shoot the rocket. Gaining his senses after the blast, Aang whirlwinds himself onto Appa’s back. They dive and catch the masked man in Aang’s arms. Momo lands on Aang’s shoulders as the mask falls off the man, revealing him to be an unconscious prince Zuko.

At the south pole, the ruins of the former southern capital are jagged and jut harshly from the surrounding icy waste. Zhao investigates the moon scroll as firebenders race to cut blocks of ice. They stack ice block onto ice block to rebuild the portal according to the scroll. When it is finished, it looks like a tunnel that leads into the side of a wall.

Aang lands Appa on the icy terrain. The tracks of snowmobiles run deep and are easy to follow, but that’s not his issue. Zuko lies motionless on the ground. Aang’s gaze follows the tracks into the distance, then returns to the unconscious Zuko. He can’t just leave him here.

At the south pole, Zhao watches the sun set. He orders Princess Yue to open the moon gate. She can’t. Only a waterbender can. All eyes turn towards Katara. They unshackle and unmuzzle her.

Katara approaches the rebuilt portal. It looks rough and raw in the twilight. She waves her hands over the ice. No change. She does again, but nothing happens. Zhao’s face darkens. He barks an order. The water tribe villagers are pushed to their knees as firebender soldiers brandish flames at them. She tries again and again to use her powers on the portal, but still, it does not respond.

Katara cowers. Zhao approaches her, his fury palpable. He suggests she try again. She doesn’t know if she can open the portal. He sneers that he hopes, for her family’s sake, that she is wrong. He snaps his fingers twice and Grangran is dragged forward. Zhao commands her to open the gate, and though Katara tries, she still can’t do it. Zhao scowls. He looks over at the villagers and spies Sokka. He orders Grangran returned to the others and Sokka to be dragged forward next. Katara begs Zhao. He orders her to open the gate. Sokka tells her that it’s okay, and that he loves her. Grangran yells that she believes in Katara. Yue joins them. The whole village shouts encouragements. The sun disappears over the horizon. The light of the moon is the only light in the sky. Katara closes her eyes and waves her hands once again. Nothing happens. Zhao makes a fireball in his fist and approaches Sokka.

A villager shouts and Zhao turns. A soft light creeps over each ice block until the entire arch is shining. The shining abruptly stops and the blocks have fused together. Zhao investigates.

In the darkness of the tunnel, one can see the moon, hanging in blackness, illuminating a path to a distant archway. Zhao laughs, an evil laugh. Yue stands and bids the southerners to follow her to the north, but Zhao stops them. Elite firebenders take hold of Yue, while others put Katara back into shackles and muzzle and lump her in with the villagers. Yue spits at Zhao for turning against his word. Zhao takes her personally into custody and leaves the rest of the water tribe with the elite guard as he and a small team, including Iroh, lead Yue through the portal.

As they walk the moon’s path, Admiral Zhao sinisterly tells General Iroh that they are in the process of writing history, as they will be destroying the last of the Water Tribe civilization. Yue is aghast at Zhao’s machinations, and Zhao has her gagged. Iroh warns Zhao that history is not always kind to its subjects, Zhao condescendingly assures him that this will not be like Iroh's legendary failure at Ba Sing Se; Iroh ominously tells Zhao he hopes not, for Zhao's sake. The firebenders and Yue reach the end of the path and find themselves in the throne room of the northern water tribe. *

Iroh confirms their location and inquires if it is wise to attack during the full moon, as waterbenders draw strength from the moon. Zhao states that he is aware of the problem, and that he is working on a solution. As he reveals a secret door behind the throne, Zhao explains that years earlier, while serving as a young officer in the Earth Kingdom, he stumbled on the secret of the Moon and Ocean Spirit's mortal forms in an underground library. When he declares it is his destiny to kill the moon spirit, Iroh angrily informs him that the spirits are not to be trifled with. Condescendingly, Zhao tells Iroh he has heard tales of his journey into the Spirit World and assures him that the Moon and Ocean Spirits, having made the decision to give up their immortality to be part of the human world, will face the consequences of that decision. *

They descend down the passageway behind the throne to the spirit oasis: a small bamboo forested pool in a glacial atrium. A low voice is heard up ahead. Zhao puts his fingers to his lips and the firebenders sneak in the shadows. Chief Arnook, Yue’s father, prays to the moon for his daughter and his people. The light of the full moon shines brightly above. When he finishes, he asks an older man, Master Pakku, to escort him back. Zhao reveals himself and his prisoner, Princess Yue. Pakku squares up but Arnook orders him to stand down.

Zhao commends the chief for his wisdom and releases Yue to him. Arnook ungags her and Yue tells him that Zhao means to destroy the water tribe by killing the moon spirit. Arnook and Pakku share a look.

Arnook is incredulous that Zhao could kill the moon, whose bed is the sky and the horizon, but Zhao assures him confidently, that the spirits are close, closer than he thinks. He gestures to the pool, two koi fish swim around each other. Yue is in disbelief that Zhao thinks the fish are the spirits, but Arnook and Pakku are silent with secret knowledge.

Meanwhile, at the south pole, Katara breaths through her muzzle, now hoary with frost. A firebender yelps and points at the sky, it’s Aang riding Appa. The firebenders form a defensive perimeter. Katara takes her chance, she ices the locks to the point that they break and she frees herself from her bonds. She begins taking out firebenders as Aang does the same. The firebenders run to their snowmobiles and sleds and retreat. Katara throws off the muzzle and hugs Aang as Sokka inspects the gate. He runs through it, after Yue. The rest of the southerners follow with trepidation. In the palace, Sokka begins to call out. He sees the door ajar behind the throne. Sokka finds it out of place and passes through it. Katara and Aang ensure all the remaining southerners go through the portal. Aang shows her Zuko on Appa and they decide to leave him in the south.

Suddenly, as if he had been conscious for a while, Zuko makes his move and attacks. Katara trounces him. She freezes him in a block of ice and she and Aang and Momo try to pull Appa through the moon portal. Appa resists; after being cooped up in the ship, he is not interested in going through a small door again.

Sokka sneaks down the path to the spirit oasis. Zhao arrogantly applauds his own efforts to fulfill his "destiny", speculating as to which names by which future generations will call him. From the shadows, Sokka makes eye contact with Yue. He retreats to get help.

A water tribe scout on an ice tower watches the fire navy ship’s blockade. It’s nothing unusual.

Katara and Aang desperately pull Appa with a rope onto the moon path. Zuko the ice block begins to steam.

Zhao takes a burlap sack and charges into the water. After a moment, he rises with the fish in the bag. As he hoists it over his head in triumph, the full moon above transforms, turning from white to blood-red. *

The scout sees the red moon. His waterbender comrade in arms reacts: he can no longer waterbend.

On the moon path, the moon and path are red in the blackness. Katara feels weak. She collapses. Aang releases Appa’s rope and helps her up. Appa pulls back into the open air on the south side. Aang hobbles Katara over to the north side and lays her down in the throne room. He tells Momo to watch over her, he has to go back for Appa. The path beneath him cracks and Katara tells him to hurry. Aang runs through the gate to the other side. Before he can make it to the south, a shadow appears in the doorway and fireblasts him back. Prince Zuko who corners Aang in the disintegrating moon path.

Yue begs Zhao to release the moon spirit. The chief holds her and comforts her. Iroh pleads with Zhao to consider his actions: they will bring harm to all, not just those in the Water Tribe. Reinforcing the point, Iroh promises Zhao, "Whatever you do to that spirit, I'll unleash on you ten-fold." Zhao confirms what he knew all along, that Iroh is a traitor. To save the moon spirit, Arnook offers Zhao the unconditional surrender of the northern water tribe.

Water tribe warriors swarm into the throne room and surround the villagers coming through the portal. Sokka appears in the door behind the throne and bids them to follow him. The arch of the moon gate begins to crack and Katara yells for Aang. Zuko’s firebending keeps Aang on the pathway guarding the south door as it splinters here and there.

Zhao confirms with Arnook, that he has his unconditional surrender and releases the fish back into the water. The moon turns white. Everyone, the water tribe scouts, fire navy sailors, Sokka, Katara, Aang, Iroh, and even Zuko is relieved. The floor beneath Aang and Zuko solidifies again and Zuko takes a defensive stance.

Zhao watches the fish swim. Something dark and unsatisfied crosses his mind. Without a hesitation, he fire blasts the white fish.

Iroh watches the fire bolt hit the moon spirit in horror.

On the moon path, the full moon above Aang goes out like a light. The path beneath Aang and Zuko disappears and Aang falls into darkness. Zuko jumps to the southern portal and pulls himself through as the pathway vanishes behind him leaving an empty black tunnel.

Katara yells for Aang, and approaches the portal, but the portal in the north now ends in an icy wall. Momo scratches desperately at the wall.

The scout blinks in the darkness. He is at a loss. One by one, on the horizon, the fire navy blockade lights their trebuchets. They fling fiery projectiles in waves. The scout blows his horn.

Appa huffs at the gate. Zuko tries again and again to jump through the threshold, but without the moon, the gate is shut. Zuko lights the sky up with his fire blasts.

Iroh bellows and lunges on Zhao. The elite squad do their best to protect Zhao but are subdued by Iroh’s fury. Zhao realizes he might be in trouble and flees up the ice wall, his fingers sinking like molten rods into the ice to climb his way out through the opening above. Iroh falls to his knees and mourns the spirit with the chief and Pakku and Yue. Sokka returns with warriors and villagers. The first round of trebuchet projectiles hit the palace and bits of icy debris fall from the ceiling. Grangran pulls Katara wailing for Aang to the safety of the path to the spirit oasis and down to join the others. The northern water tribe capital is in chaos. The dead white fish is prodded by the living black fish.

Aang floats in darkness thick as water. A giant black koi fish finds him and swallows him.

Katara clutches Momo as a ripple in the water breaks the stillness of the spirit oasis. Aang rises out of the water in the avatar state.

Katara is filled with joy, but Aang does not respond. He rises into the sky. Ice and snow from the land and sky begin to swirl around him and envelope him the form of a giant snow-white koi fish. The fish swims through the air out over the bay and dives into the water between fire navy ships. They are hit with a minor wave, but the sailors braced themselves. The snow fish becomes slush and the fish shape decompresses, filling the seas. Then the shape recollects and rises pulling all the water with it. The ships try to flee but are caught up in the gargantuan shape. The rocky bay beneath is revealed as some ships are beached on the seafloor. The water pillar takes a vaguely humanoid fish shape.

It collapses, and the navy ships are tsunamied away.

Back at the spirit oasis, Iroh notices, with astonishment, that Yue has been touched by the Moon Spirit, and that as a result, some of its life force is within her; Yue affirms the conjecture, then decides that she should try to restore the spirit to life by giving hers to it. Her father, upset by this idea, protests, but she is unmoved by him. Sokka takes her hands into his own and assures her there has to be another way. She calmly replies, "I have to try," and places her hands on the dead fish. *

The fish glows as Yue’s spirit leaves her body, she closes her eyes, exhales one last time, and collapses into Sokka's arms, dead. *

Moments later, Yue's body evaporates, and the fish, suddenly filled with life, swims into the oasis, looking for its partner. Floating, Yue appears above the water as a spirit, clothed in a flowing white dress. She tells Sokka that she will always be with him, kissing him one last time before disappearing; as she vanishes, the moon reappears in the sky, restoring the waterbenders' abilities. *

On the walls of the palace, Zhao sees the moon’s return and screams his frustration.

Aang fused with the Ocean spirit, in the meantime, has laid waste to the Fire Nation's navy but ceases as the moon reappears. The Ocean Spirit acknowledges the moon's restoration and, ending its violent vendetta, places Aang atop the outer wall of the city as it melts into the ocean water. *

Zhao finds a hole in the ceiling of the palace as jumps down. He has no choice but to escape through the moon portal. Except a figure blocks his way, Prince Zuko. They begin to fight. Iroh returns to the throne room and catches their duel. As Zhao and Zuko weave in and out of moonbeams let in by breaks in the ceiling. The beams seem to bend and sway as if attracted to Zhao. They wrap around him like a web of fine hair and he is stuck. Tentacles of light pull him into the air. Zuko, forgetting the duel, tries to help Zhao, reaching out a hand to him, but Zhao stubbornly refuses to take it, and he is pulled through the hole in the roof, where he vanishes in the light of the moon. Iroh puts his arm around Zuko and leads the teen back through the moon portal to the south.

Zuko is already planning, they will camp in the south and wait for the Avatar to return for his bison. Iroh looks at him sadly as Zuko begins to make camp with Appa tied up nearby. With a decisive move, Iroh unleashes a fireball that destroys the moon portal in the south. Zuko is speechless as Iroh retrieves Appa and mounts him and pulls Zuko aboard. Zuko says “uh… yip-yip” and the three lift off.

Back in the north, a drained Aang makes his way to the throne room as the rest return as well. Aang looks distraught at the closed portal’s dead end and whispers Appa’s name. The water tribe surrounds and embraces him as a group, with Katara, Sokka, Grangran, Arnook and Pakku in the center. The fire navy ships retreat out of the north and the moon glows high in the sky.

Post credit scene

In the Fire Nation, Fire Lord Ozai imparts the knowledge of Iroh's treasonous behavior and Zuko's failure to his daughter, Azula, and entrusts her with a special task as she looks up at him, a smile on her face. *

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