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tenthgrove · 3 years

Note

Can I request the one where La Squadra thought the reader was pregnant (when she just actually visited her kid) situation for Bruno's gang?

Mother Mother- Bucci Edition

Team Buccerati x Reader (Fem), Platonic, SFW

Bruno Buccerati is feeling restless. He's not one to pry, but your behaviour lately is starting to concern him. Leaving the base for hours without explanation is no cause for worry in itself, after all, you're not obliged to inform him of your whereabouts 24/7 and you're hardly the only one on the team who does this, but together with the ceaseless obsession with cutting your finances, the uncharacteristic melancholy and the jolt of panic whenever your personal circumstances become the topic of conversation all add up to a bad picture.

The final straw for Buccerati came today, in which while passing you idly on the sofa he caught sight of the word 'parenthood' printed on the title of the leaflet you were reading. He didn't see the rest of what it said, but your guilty smile at being caught spoke well enough for itself.

Buccerati truly does feel bad about this, but with how defensive you become at even the smallest sign of confrontation, he sees no other choice. As he watches you depart your bedroom and head into the bathroom, he waits quietly for the rush of water from the shower, before sneaking into your unlocked bedroom unnoticed.

He will make clear, he thinks to himself as he pilfers through the loose paper on your desk for that leaflet, that he is not angry. If it's what your heart is set on, he isn't even that opposed to the idea of you raising the baby yourself. The squad is decently paid and their work isn't as dangerous or all-consuming as some, so they can manage. He even feels a little bit of excitement at the thought of helping you with your offspring. He's only doing this because it can't be healthy for you to conceal your pregnancy like this. Children have always been such precious things to him.

A pink leaflet flits off of the desk and Buccerati picks up his prize. He reads the title in full.

"Parenthood for the Parents of Hospitalised Children: What Doctors Advise"

Ahh. Now that changes things. Buccerati feels his heart sink at the sight of the stock image of a mother and father standing over the bedside of a sickly-looking girl. He guiltily returns the leaflet to its former place and tries to reorganise the paper as he found it, before exiting quickly.

Having learned his lesson well about making assumptions on too little evidence, Buccerati sits down with his phone book. There's a fellow on one of the intel teams who owes him a small favour, and it's time he called on it.

“Hello, it’s Buccerati, could you do something for me quickly? I need you to check the records of all the hospitals in Naples that hospitalise chronically ill children, and take a look through the names of the patients in the children's ward," he requests. "There's a specific surname I'm after, hang on, I'll find it for you." Buccerati racks his brains. If there's one thing he's certain your being honest about it's your real name. He pulls it from his memories and relays it to his friend. "No, no need to take any action once you find them. Just let me know the details, particularly of the illness. Very well, thank you," he concludes the phone call and hangs up. He leans back in the seat and sighs.

He barely gets half an hour to rest before the phone rings.

"Oh hello, that was quick. Did you find them? That's excellent. What did the records say?"

The agent relays his findings. Matching the surname he gave him is a little girl about 5 years old, currently residing in the hospital closest to Buccerati's base. The child is suffering from a frightful condition that, although rarely fatal with treatment, can leave sufferers in need of constant medical care for months on end, along with more minor support for years after.

The most concerning thing about the records is that the agent was able to find visitation logs attached to the data, and they all speak of a single, anonymous visitor with recorded visits matching perfectly with the dates and times of your disappearances.

Buccerati thanks the agent and promises to wire him a little money for his quick and extensive help. Hanging up, he broods deeply. He cannot simply allow your suffering to continue if there's anything, anything at all he can do to help.

He is broken from his trance by the sounds of panicked footsteps running in from the hall. He catches sight of Mista and Narancia sneaking in from the hallway, and is struck by the immediate impression that they are by all definitions, up to no good.

"What's the matter you two? You seem startled," he presses them patiently. He is met with two loud sounds of 'uhhhh'.

"Nothing Buccerati, we swear it!" Narancia promises.

"Yeah! In fact, we were just going to the shops and were arguing over what to get!" Mista backs him up. Buccerati rolls his eyes and smiles.

"Alright. Not too much sugar, Narancia? We don't want to find you being sick in the bathroom at two in the morning again, do we?"

"It's not me you have to worry about doing that now," Narancia mutters under his breath.

"Pardon?" Buccerati asks, confused.

"Nothing! We should go now!"

The boys immediately make their exit out the front and disappear down the street. Bruno tuts. Sometimes he thinks he'll never understand that lot. He smiles.

As he replays the encounter in his head, it occurs to him what that strange item poking out of Mista's pocket was. The leaflet from (y/n)'s room. Shit.

"Mista? Narancia? I think we should have a word please!" Buccerati shouts down the entry street. But it's two late, they've both disappeared out of earshot. Buccerati throws his hands up in despair, and returns to his room.

::::::::::::

Abbacchio knows what he sees. Mista and Narancia go running down the street and about 20 second later, Buccerati goes out shouting. As Abbacchio watches Buccerati return to the house in defeat, he makes a decision. He's had enough of those kids and their petty little antics. If Buccerati doesn't have it in him to set them straight, he will.

"You look pressed," Fugo remarks as Abbacchio pushes past him in the corridor.

"None of your business. Mista and Narancia are up to no good and now I've got to go and find them," Abbacchio grunts.

"Narancia?! But he promised me he'd work on his assignments tonight! Little bastard, I'll kill him!" Fugo fumes.

"Will you now? Better keep up then," Abbacchio says, throwing on his coat.

It doesn't take them long at all to find Mista and Narancia. Indeed, they're cowering in the very first alleyway left of the house.

"We can explain," Narancia promises.

"I bet you can," Abbacchio mutters half-heartedly.

"Take a look at this!" Narancia urges them. He pulls a pink leaflet from Mista's pocket and rereads it himself. "It says 'parenthood'. We found it in (y/n)'s room. Does that mean she's pregnant?"

"Why in god's name were you snooping around in (y/n)'s room?" Abbacchio interrogates them.

"Furthermore Narancia, you can't read," Fugo adds.

"Well, for a start, Buccerati did it first. We just went in after him to see what it was he was looking for. Second, Mista read it for me, and he swears it says 'parenthood'. Isn't that right Mista?"

"Sure is," Mista affirms. "Look."

He flicks the leaflet in front of them and, sure enough, they all read the same word. Abbacchio and Fugo curse simultaneously.

"What the hell is their game, thinking they can hide something like this from us?" Abbacchio fumes. "Does Bruno think he's protecting her or something? He's a fool."

"If I may, Abbacchio, it is most uncharacteristic of you to speak ill of Signor Buccerati," a voice from behind protests. Abbacchio turns with a jolt to see Giorno standing at the entrance of the alleyway along with a very bewildered looking Trish. They each have a couple of shopping bags in their hands.

"Are you spying on me?!" Abbacchio shrieks.

"Not at all. I simply thought that going after dark would be a much safer time for Trish to do her shopping, so I was taking her out," Giorno explains. "I overheard your voices and came to investigate, but I really haven't heard much."

"(Y/n)'s pregnant and Buccerati's hiding it from us," Mista fills him in.

"Wait, I'm lost. Did Buccerati get her pregnant? Because if so, what in the actual hell?" Trish comments.

"Fucking christ. Could you imagine?" Narancia remarks. The group soon devolves into a mess of interrupted shouting.

"All of you quiet!" Abbacchio yells. He holds up his hands in desperation. "We are going to get to the bottom of this and we're going to do it now! We are going right home, and we are getting (y/n) to explain herself, whether she likes it or not. Agreed?"

::::::::::::

You had an awful eery feeling getting out that shower would be a mistake. The last thing you expected tonight was being hounded by your dear teammates while you're half dressed and wet haired, particularly on such an outlandish concept as pregnancy.

"Slow down! What the hell are you accusing me of again?"

"You're having a baby and you aren't even telling us! Do you have any idea how much those cost?" Trish accuses. You don't even have an answer for that one, it's just so completely wrong there's no way to refute it.

"We aren't looking to judge, we just want to help," Giorno assures you, though his voice is drowned out by the rest of the rabble.

"I don't need help, I'm not having a baby!" you protest. Narancia opens his mouth.

"But the leaflet says-"

"What on god's earth are the lot of you doing?" Bruno calls from the hallway. "Why are you all hounding (y/n) all of a sudden."

"You think we don't know what you know, Buccerati?" Abbacchio confronts him. "You're complicit in this. You're helping to hide this- baby!"

Buccerati breathes deeply.

"Ah. I believe I know what this is about. Mista, I want you to take that leaflet you found and read the front page out to me. In full."

Mista complies.

"Parenthood... for the Parents of Hospitalised Children. Oh."

"You made the same mistake I did," Buccerati explains. "You saw the first word and immediately jumped to your own conclusions. But in regards to the full title I have carried out some follow up and have confirmed it is exactly what it sounds like. (Y/n) has a young daughter who is unfortunately quite sick at present, and she has understandably been taking time off to be with her."

"You know about her?" you exclaim in panic.

"Apologies (y/n), I was acting only in concern for your health. It was admittedly due to my poor caution that the others found out and, well, it went from there."

"Look," you protest, thoughts spiralling into panic. "I didn't mean for you to know. You said I could do what I wanted with my money so I did. There- there was no other way I could afford to treat her," you justify, tears starting to leak from your eyes. "Please don't kick me out. I swear this doesn't affect my work, all I need is a few hours a week to check on her!"

You collapse against the door in tears. The crowd goes into a shocked silence. Buccerati pushes to the front.

"Hey, hey, I'm not going to kick you out so don't worry," he promises. "I would never cut off a member of my squad like that, especially not when they have such a vulnerable dependent. We can talk about helping you with the money tomorrow, but now, let's get you calmed down okay?"

You nod through your tears. Buccerati guides you to your feet and leads you gently into the kitchen. The remaining group in the hall look at each other with pressed lips. Fugo takes the leaflet from Mista and reads through the front cover once more. He hits him.

#team buccerati #team buccellati #bruno buccerati x reader #bruno buccellati x reader #bruno buccerati #bruno buccellati #leone abbacchio #leone abbacchio x reader #giorno giovanna #giorno giovanna x reader #guido mista #guido mista x reader #narancia ghirga #narancia ghirga x reader #pannacotta fugo #pannacotta fugo x reader #trish una #trish una x reader

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midnight-in-town · 3 years

Text

About the current (last?) arc of AnY and going full circle

Sorry if some fans already mentioned those ideas but I’ve been rereading the current arc, because it’s been quite long and the pace has its flaws sometimes, so I wanted to broaden my perspective on the story.

First of all, as an introduction can I just say that I’m, as always, impressed by Hak’s character. He had so much cliché and shallow potential when the story started (I really used to roll my eyes at him), but he became one of my absolute favorite by how deep and strong-hearted he actually is, once he allows people behind the walls he built around him. Anyway, my love for his character & development knows no boundary. I had to say this, ok. I’ll explain why later in the post. Moving on.

A conflict of generation

If there is one thing I love about Kusanagi-sensei, it’s the feminine touch she adds to her writing. For example, when she naturally addressed periods during the Xing arc and it fit perfectly, because that’s just how her writing goes. In this arc, it shows through the initial bold move to tell us readers about the past through the thoughts and words of a character we’ve never met, that is to say, Yonhi, Yuhon’s wife and Suwon’s mother.

And yet, it made absolute sense, because Yonhi was the reason behind the cataclysm that eventually led to Yuhon killing priests, as well as the falling-out between him and his younger brother, Il. All along, Yonhi was the silent but pained witness to this feud, watching as the ego of two brothers destroyed everything when none of the two backed down, leading to first Kashi’s death, then Yuhon’s murder and finally Suwon’s coup.

So, in a way, even if I think Suwon makes a far better king than Yuhon or Il, his circumstances kinda precede the logical decision to get Il out of the picture before he completely annihilated his own kingdom in poverty and war, because there is too much resentment and hatred that fueled Suwon while growing up, even if we readers know that his motivations are primarily about saving Kouka from war against the Kai Empire.

Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely despise both Yuhon and Il but, unfortunately for Suwon, Yona growing up sheltered and mostly unaware of the horrible truth highlights her own decisions throughout the series to be completely selfless and wanting to own up to her father’s misjudgement, rather than trying to get back at Suwon, effectively breaking the cycle of hatred amongst the royal family.

Why the Wind Tribe kept on supporting Il when everyone else could notice that he was betting on his daughter as the reincarnation of King Hiryuu to save his country is beyond me (Mundok plz explain). Not that Yuhon was better, preaching wars, and I’m glad that Il eventually reconciled with Yonhi, telling him that he would accept Suwon’s judgement but...

...I can’t forgive him for his words.

Like Yonhi, I’d rather he would have hoped that his conflict with his brother did not reach his children than entertaining it the way he did.

Hopefully though, now that Yona read Yonhi’s memoirs, she will work towards achieving that goal. Not that I have any doubt, since she never really managed to hate Suwon.

Speaking of the past generation, reading the latest chapters I couldn’t help but wonder about Yona's sad dream... could it be that she inherited Kashi’s gift? Kashi did say that she had these prophetic visions since very young which doesn’t seem to be Yona’s case, but I’ll keep the idea in mind, because it’s interesting. I mean, from Yonhi’s memoirs, it seems that Kashi envisioned that the child she would have would be Hiryuu’s reincarnation (whoever the father was going to be), so Yona inheriting the same prophetic gift from her mother would make sense.

What an ironic parallel to Suwon inheriting the Crimson Illness from Yonhi if that’s the case, am I right?

Yona as Kouka’s next Queen

And by that I do not mean Keishuk’s plan to marry her to Suwon, because of her popularity with Kouka’s people. Obviously, the story always was to conclude in Yona getting her throne back and that’s even easier to imagine with Suwon’s disabling illness, but becoming a ruler is tough work and Yona had no real experience acting as a leader for an entire country.

She didn’t know much before her father’s murder and, even after she became a runaway with Hak and the rest of the HHB, she finely dealt with crises affecting some parts of the kingdom but never the whole kingdom at once, like it’s doomed to happen with the war against the Kai Empire.

So I really appreciated her stepping up when Suwon couldn’t, because that’s definitely good training and we see the results in the latest chapters:

To be fair, I always thought that Keishuk would be the biggest thorn in Yona’s side during this arc but, as many characters have said in this arc, he’s rather clever and honest about what he intends to achieve, which is why it’s not in his interests to get in the way of Yona if they share a similar goal.

Looking forward to her facing even greater challenges. Good luck, Yona. <3

War against the Kai Empire: there is strength in unity

The Kai Empire has been depicted as the story’s big bad for a long while now and the common goal for which Yona’s faction and Suwon’s allies could unite, but I’m glad to get more specifics and new characters to explore that part of the plot.

Namely, Mei and Vall. With Chagol, they seem like the perfect foil trio to Suwon, Yona and Hak, except that Chagol seems like a real thorn in the other two’s backs, when a strong bond still ties our main trio in spite of the sad circumstances of the beginning. I particularly love the mirroring reflection between Mei and Yona...

...except that Mei is not at odds with one kingdom but with two and that she also deals with the Crimson Illness. :/

Now that war has started, the big threat that South Kai represents will obviously be dealt with, but Kouka kingdom will need more than its five tribes to win this. That’s where I’m sure we all expect to see old “enemies” come back, namely Xing Kingdom, since Kouren signed a military agreement with Suwon, thanks to Yona and Tao. I would bet that this won’t be enough either, but Xing are the only known allies that Kouka kingdom has.

There is another “enemy” we know from the previous arc though, who have strong feelings against the Kai Empire, specifically about rulers treating their women badly and they are...

...Ying Kuelbo and the Tully tribe.

The big difference between Xing Kingdom and the Tully tribe is that Suwon never met or dealt directly with Kuelbo the way he did with Kouren and Tao. The Tully tribe lost and Kuelbo ran away, betrayed and having to find a new way to take on the Kai Empire. That’s why I think the Tully tribe would eventually make for a good ally in this war: it showed good promises when Yuran and Yona got along and I think Yona understood where Kuelbo was coming from, especially now that Mei is with them and can probably tell them in details about Chagol.

Not saying this will happen soon, but since there is someone who met and fought against Kuelbo, probably gaining his respect, if this person was to seek the Tully tribe to make them Kouka Kingdom’s ally on Yona’s guidance, I think Kuelbo would give it a thought. That’s right, I’m talking about Hak, who’s currently on his way with Yoon to the Earth Tribe to fetch a drug that will not be able to save neither Suwon nor Mei, thanks Zeno for spoiling us.

That’s what I meant when I said that Hak slowly became one of my favorite characters throughout the story. While the Sky Tribe seems to be taking bets on who between Yona and Suwon will eventually sit for good on that throne, there is a good chance that Hak will be one of the key players when it comes to winning that war against South Kai. Not that we should expect any less from the Thunder Beast. <3

To be very honest though, I expected this arc to be very tough for his character, because the truth behind Il’s death and Suwon’s coup would never be easily understandable to him (Yona’s own words, not mine):

Yet, surprisingly he was able to at least listen and, no matter if he will ever understand Suwon’s choice or not, he decided to trust in Yona’s decision to back Suwon in the rising political issues.

In general, I love how Hak is the least bound by the past before Suwon’s coup. He did respect Il as his king, but he did not protect Yona in the beginning for anyone else’s sake but her own. Just like Kashi once asked him to always protect Yona (which is sweet since she could see the future) but, considering he never even thought about her words once in the story, it’s likely he doesn’t remember that at all, making the choice to be by Yona’s side defined as solely his own.

It’s this strength of his that eventually led him to say recently that he would go fetch that drug with Yoon, knowing that it was for Suwon’s sake (surprising Suwon himself), just like he will definitely fight for Kouka Kingdom, not because Yona wants him to but because it’s clearly his own desire (see ch211 where he let Yun go alone so that he could help the Earth Tribe fight):

All that makes Hak the wildest card of every agency in the plot, not simply because he’s strong and reliable and the biggest worry of the Sky Tribe, but because...

...Yona and the four dragons will never give him up.

Through Hak, Yona will be able to assert her political weight and he will be there for her, like he always was, making it impossible for their little group to lose. What a power move, I love it.

I think I should stop there because I already rambled so much. Looking forward to the rest of the arc, it’s going to be a wild ride!!

#akatsuki no yona #hak #yona #suwon #yuhon #king il #yonhi #kashi #any theory #as of:#any211 #my analysis

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vickyvicarious · 4 years

Note

do u have any atla fic recs? all time faves? can be shippy or not

Fun fact, I am incapable of holding back on reclists. In other words: brace yourself, anon. There’s a reason I put most of this behind a cut.

First off, these are almost all Zuko-centric, because I shamelessly play favorites. I’ll sort them by author rec, gen, shippy, and then by other characters because honestly the numbers break down well that way. Within those categories it’ll be more just as I think of it, so no special meaning to the order. I’m not always good about bookmarking even my faves, so some excellent stuff will no doubt be missing, especially since I haven’t read a lot of the more recent stuff yet/forgot some really old stuff, but this will definitely still give you plenty of fic to enjoy.

There’s a good number of FFN links on here so apologies to people who dislike it, but a lot of great stuff is still on there so give it a chance.

Author recs

Everything by @awesomeavocadolove Such hits as Another Brother (Zuko adopted by Hakoda pre-S1), and currently has a Zukka soulmate fic I’ve been meaning to start reading, as well as Unchained Melody, one of my favorite Zukka fics ever. Always quality, you can’t go wrong.

Everything by KimberlyT. I do not kid. She’s written a variety of ATLA fic ranging from Zutara/other romance to gen, seriously emotional to cracky cabbagebending. I think my favorite is probably Mismatched (S1 Zuko adopts a baby) but honestly just go read it all.

Everything by @emletish-fish. She has a very fun writing style and honestly her end-of-chapter notes on why she’s made the choices she has are fun minimetas worthwhile in their own right. Some of her top fics are the Stalking Zuko series (S3 suspicious Katara to Zutara) and The Worst Prisoner (the Gaang kidnaps Zuko in S1 and can’t get rid of him). I think there’s still a good amount of her fic that can only be found on FFN so check there too.

Everything by @botherkupo. Especially her Undying Fire series (healer!Zuko) but also just literally everything she writes, it is all so great. Tends toward Zutara but strong gen fics as well sometimes and a lot of fun. Check it all out!

Everything by @muffinlance. Loves to toy with her readers’ emotions in the best of ways. Tons of fantastic gen Zuko-centric AUs, I have adored every single fic I’ve ever read by her, can’t praise them enough. Very productive as well, her tumblr is a hub for the ATLA renaissance and her fics inspire lots of others. Has also organized a fanmade ATLA coloring book for charity so get that once it’s out. In the meantime read everything she’s written.

Everything by Haicrescendo. My favorite is What We’re Given (the series where Zuko finds more air bisons and raises them), but there’s a lot of good Zukka fic too. I tend to steer away from explicit works in this fandom unless it’s a smaller part of a much longer plot-centric fic, so there are a number I haven’t read, but I really like the Pokemon!AU Zukka.

Everything by @gaycinema. I really love the EK fight club series (Zuko fights in Rumbles/etc.) but all of it is a good read. Some Jetko, mostly a lot of introspective or emotional oneshots. Which isn’t really a great depiction of how good they tend to be, you’ll just have to read them and find out. You won’t regret it, trust me.

Everything by @captainkirkk. So far eight stellar fics, starting with kind Fire Lord Zuko and ranging to Floating Tea Shop!Zuko who doesn’t want to hunt the Avatar. I love her style and have laughed out loud at multiple of these.

Gen Zuko fic

Bringing Out the Blue by maguena1. [unfinished, long] Definitely worth the read. The first ATLA fic I ever got really sucked into. The Blue Spirit never gets knocked out so Aang doesn’t know his true identity; he joins the Gaang on a recurring basis, while Zuko attempts to tell himself this is only for information on how to catch them, they definitely aren’t his friends.

It’s Impossible by Sandra Phillips. [abandoned, long] One of the earliest Avatar!Zuko fics (sort of) and a really interesting take on some spirit stuff.

Embers by Vathara. [complete, long] A landmark fic in the fandom, and for good reason. I didn’t love everything about this fic, but it is very well-written and an absorbing read certainly worth the praise.

the art of description by incandescens. [oneshot, short] Five descriptions of Zuko and Toph’s field trip from various perspectives. Short, sweet, and funny.

Breaking Point by Kryal. [oneshot, short] Zuko isn’t banished but instead sent to serve in the Home Guard. I love Zuko loving his people, and alternate canon explorations, and this is exactly that.

The Alternative by Lunatique. [oneshot, short] The reason Zuko is so determined is because he fears what will happen if he isn’t the next Fire Lord. An idea I support in canon, to a degree, written well.

Hands and Knees by gigerisgod. [oneshot, short] Zuko reflects on the choices he’s made, and experiences he’s had, when joining the Gaang. A nice introspective fic.

Relative Misery by peroxidepest17. [oneshot, short] Toph complains about her family and Zuko takes her on a field trip. Not a fic I take too seriously, but funny in a sad way.

Second Nature by lazyartisan. [possibly abandoned, long] An AU stemming from Zuko’s capture at the North Pole. Well-written and characterized, an old favorite that I actually find needing to reread to give you more detail, but I can promise it’s good.

Year One by peroxidepest17. [oneshot, short] Lessons Zuko learns in his first year being Fire Lord. I really like explorations of Zuko’s journey as Fire Lord and this is a lovely little window into that.

Soft by PenPistola. [oneshot, short] Zuko and Toph bonding after the Ember Island Players. Short and sweet.

The New Phoenix King by JoeMerl. [oneshot, short] Fire Lord Zuko is overthrown, and no one but him is bothered at all. In fact they help. Hilarious crack.

First Name Basis by JoeMerl. [oneshot, short] There’s some popular posts going around Tumblr lately about Zuko not knowing the Gaang’s names, but this fic did it first back in 2008. As amusing as you’d expect.

Male Bonding by glamaphonic. [oneshot, short] The original ‘Zuko and Sokka bond and are also dumb idiot boys’ fic. Katara is permanently rolling her eyes.

it’s not the waking, it’s the rising by isamagicdragon, thegracious [ongoing, series, medium] Azulon tells Ozai to kill Azula instead of Zuko, which leads to heartwrenching fire sibs adventure. I haven’t caught up on the last chapter yet but god is it fantastic and also just a really interesting and new perspective on what could have happened.

Doe-Eyed by Anonymous. [complete, medium] Zuko is a baby, Azula is a loving big sister. More fire sibs and a great exploration on Azula’s POV of turning against Ozai.

kintsugi by discordiansamba. [ongoing, series, long] Zuko doesn’t have Iroh after being banished, and winds up hired as a guard to protect the frail Beifong daughter. Fantastic preseries Zuko+Toph found family fic.

Legacies by WildInkling. [ongoing, medium] Far in the future, a historian studies the journal of Fire Lord Zuko. Also, he was secretly a famous author but no one knows. A funny and poignant outsider POV.

#UndercoverZuko series by naggeluide. [complete, series, short] A completely cracky concept written straight enough to be actually quite touching in parts, but also just really funny. Zuko goes Undercover Boss on his ship pre-series.

Avatar Ficlets by JaggedCliffs. [series, oneshots, short] An ongoing series of disconnected oneshots, mostly post-canon and mostly Zuko-centric. Some a pretty fun, one is a great view on Zuko and lightningbending, all worth the read (and follow for when more come out).

The Blind Leading the Blue by BrusselsSprout. [ongoing, medium] An epic Zuko and Toph field trip set in S2. I love them and this.

half in the shadows, half burned in flames by r_astra. [oneshot, short] Iroh dies, Zuko gets caught on the Day of Black Sun, everything ends up all right but damn does it hurt getting there.

A Tale of Earth and Fire by chiiyo86. [complete, medium] Zuko and Toph are married for Politics in a FN Wins AU, and follows them slowly bonding as friends to beginning a revolution. They’re married but it’s not romantic, just some good friendship.

Eight Principles of Yong by psocoptera. [oneshot, short] An exploration of immediate post-show FN politics (sort of), calligraphy, and Zuko. Also has some lovely non-fighting firebending; I always love when people explore other uses of bending.

Healing Properties of Cinder Sage by Dawen. [oneshot, short] Zuko gets very sick in the Western Air Temple. Some good interaction when he’s new to the Gaang, and Toph+Zuko friendship.

We Ourselves Must Walk The Path by WinterSky101. [complete, medium] The Gaang agrees to make Zuko their prisoner in the WAT. Speaking of new-to-the-Gaang, tension, this fic has plenty of it, and also features some good Toph and Zuko.

Frozen by Aris Merquoni. [oneshot, medium] Zuko is captured in the NWT. Some politics, lots of angst, and eventually, healing. Also actually makes me somewhat like Hahn? Incredibly enough.

Reluctant Hero by PAW_07. [ongoing, long] Avatar!Zuko fic. I got to beta it way back when for a little while before I got too busy, and have always been a huge fan of this fic. Great concept, one of the best executions of it I’ve seen, and also one of the first. Definitely read this.

Morality Chain by Pureauthor. [abandoned, long] Azula and Zuko were always on each other’s side; how this changes canon. I love this concept and would happily read a lot more fics with it (please guys, I need more fire sibs).

A viper-lizard’s tales series by Yumi_Take. [ongoing, long] The world needs more of Zuko adopting pets and small children, and those are just facts. This only has one of the two, but it’s a EK baby! Jet plays a big role in this fic as well, a weird kind of uncle-ish to the baby/friend/murderer Zuko needs to watch closely and hold back kind of thing.

(life happens) wherever you are by howlikeagod. [ongoing, long] Katara doesn’t find Zuko and Iroh in the teashop, and canon takes a sharp left turn. Excellent Gaang fic.

The Best Path series by EudociaCovert. [series, ongoing, long] Zuko meets Jet in ‘Zuko Alone’ and winds up getting claimed as theirs by the remaining Freedom Fighters. Really really well-written, I got quite emotional over some scenes.

Shippy Zuko fic

Balm by Thyme In Her Eyes. [Maiko, oneshot, short] A sweet little fic about Mai’s thoughts on Zuko’s lightning scar.

The Black Games by Mrs. Pettyfer. [Zutara, complete, long] Hunger Games-esque AU. It’s the first in a series, and I lost interest after this one but I remember enjoying the fic and it was more personal preference rather than a drop in quality that had me leaving.

Lie To Me by Inkcharm. [Toko, oneshot, short] I’m not actually a fan of this pairing romatically (at least until years down the line), but this little fic of Toph and Zuko bonding through lying to one another is sweet. I choose to ignore the more shippy parts and enjoyed it.

Zutara? What the heck is that? by Ryxl. [Zutara, oneshot, short] Complete crack, have a good sense of humor and I think you will enjoy. Just the mental image of the Gaang finding a Zutara propaganda flyer had me chuckling.

The Three Chores series (1, 2, 3) by Fandomme. [Zutara, threeshot, short] Zuko and Katara slowly bond as he helps with chores. I will admit it’s been years and I barely remember this, but what I do recall is lovely and I always appreciate people lightening Katara’s load.

read the inscription by suzukiblu. [Zuko/Song, complete, series, medium] When Zuko is banished, he is left alone in the Earth Kingdom to fend for himself. Very touching, and I love Song in this.

Hooked by TGP. [Jetko, complete, long] A classic ‘Jet didn’t see Iroh warming his tea’ fic. They’re almost all this premise but so many well-written and very long ones.

Something To Hold Onto by Wildgoosery. [Jetko, complete, long] The EK fell and Li stayed to fight with the Freedom Fighters to protect the city during its foreign rule. Jet didn’t see the tea fic that goes very AU from canon.

Foxfire by Rahar_Moonfire. [Jetko, ongoing, long] Zuko loses his memories Jetko fic, but with heavy spirit influence and lovable EK OCs, both of which I adore and should be in far more fics.

Once Upon A Teashop by anaer. [Zukka, Jetko, ongoing, long] Cracky Ba Sing Se AU that gets gradually more and more serious. Jet hits on Zuko a lot and Sokka gets a job in the teashop to keep an eye on both of them. Endgame Zukka but heavy Jetko, and both pairings are handled pretty well, not a love triangle that makes me too mad, although as always bear in mind Jet’s messed up.

Names by TGP. [Jetko, complete, long] I feel like I’m forgetting some more excellent Amnesia!Zuko fics, but this is one I do know of. To be honest I don’t remember it super well because it may be mixed up with other Jetko/amnesia fics in my mind, but I think it was really good. I’ll have to reread myself.

Epistles by Lady_of_the_Flowers. [Zukka, ongoing, long] I love epistolary fic and I love Zuko and Sokka bonding earlier in canon. I will be honest I haven’t read this in a long time and been updating all the while, but the premise alone (Zuko and Sokka become messenger-hawk-pals in S1 and then fall in love) is fantastic.

Ozymandias, King of Kings by Think_of_a_Wonderful_Thought. [Zukka, ongoing, long] Zuko rebels earlier and actually is sent to the mines, until he is ‘rescued’ by the Water Tribe. Dark but getting lighter over time, and more reluctant-to-rule Zuko which always wrenches my heartstrings. I prefer super loyal and dutiful to his people Zuko but this trope always makes me feel things.

Crossovers

Fallen Drops of Fire by Chasmfiend. [Fullmetal Alchemist, ongoing] Young Azula and Zuko somehow appear in Amestris, and encounter Roy Mustang. I adore the fire sibs, and their relationship in this strange situation is the star of this fic for me, but it’s also fun seeing the FMA perspective of these two.

The Dragon-King’s Temple by Kryal. [Stargate SG-1, long, complete] The best crossover fic out there. Zuko and Toph get stranded on the other side of a Stargate. I don’t know anything about SG-1 but it didn’t matter, the fic was fantastic, they were badasses, it explored language and culture from an outside perspective, and it was just a ton of fun. Must-read.

Other character fic

Loyalty by Julia451. [oneshot, short] The ship captain didn’t misspeak when he called Iroh and Zuko “prisoners” in the start of S2. A lovely look at a nameless character, giving depth to a small moment and humanity to a FN soldier which I always love.

The Only One by HarlowR. [oneshot, short] An excellent exploration of Azula’s mindset regarding Zuko, her desperate need to be loved and jealousy of him matching his own. I think Azula was one of the greatest tragedies of the show, and this fic makes me feel it.

Blood by theAsh0. [oneshot, short] Katara-centric thinkpiece on bloodbending and healing. Dark but really interesting.

Touch and Go by Cadence. [oneshot, short] After Iroh’s struck by lightning, Toph doesn’t let Zuko drive them all away. A momentary alliance and the seeds of friendship. More Toph-focused but still heavy on the whole Gaang.

Shortcomings by Menamebephil. [oneshot, short] Iroh thoughts during his imprisonment, on the theme of mistakes. I love this man and don’t understand why I am so drawn to fic about him that makes me sad.

Watch And Review, Please by Becca Stareyes. [oneshot, short] The Ember Island Players receive some constructive criticism... sort of. Funny and quick.

Azula Redemption Trilogy (1, 2, 3) by Mistress of Sarcasm. [threeshot, short] Second person and deeply introspective, three short little fics delving into Azula’s head and bringing her closer to redemption.

Echoing Refrains by catie_writes_things. [oneshot, short] I really like nuanced explorations of the whole FN royal family. It’s perfectly fine to write Ozai as pure evil bastard, but exploring what might have been or how he got there, or even as in this fic his talent for music being inherited by Zuko is really interesting too. Iroh-centric.

our curse by ohmygodwhy, and the last dragon by thesometimeswarrior. [twoshot, complete, short] Stay away if you don’t like to cry. In the first Zuko learns Ozai is executing Iroh, and isn’t able to stop it; the second is even worse because it’s Iroh’s POV. I put this in the other characters section because honestly I adore the second fic even more than the first, but they are both fantastically written and will hurt you a very great deal.

Finally, I’m not quite bold enough to put my own fic on a reclist, but just shameless enough to mention I’ve written a few Avatar fics I quite like if anyone feels the desire to check them out on my AO3. ;) But seriously give love to all the rest of these, they deserve it. (And as I said, there’s lots more excellent stuff, this fandom is so prolific and well-written!)

#atla #atla fic #fic rec #reclist #replies #anonymous #i'm haunted by the feeling i've forgotten a lot of stuff #but honestly i need to stop this is huge already #enjoy anon #Anonymous

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alyblacklist · 3 years

Note

Hey!!

I am new to your tumblr but I read your fics all the time (and reread them more often than I should admit lol)

I think you’re really amazing!

I’m so relieved that you answer asks and discuss speculation because I really need someone to talk this through.

So, I have watched a couple of other thriller series along the same lines where the makers don’t have any issues killing off major characters off the show.

There are a couple of things that are happening in this show which I think (and I honest to god hope I’m wrong) are building up to them killing off Ressler.

They get together, they partially admit their feelings (which we’ve been waiting for too Damn long) - so they get closure. Ressler is in the hospital, they show him deteriorating, he goes into v-fib.

And all of this is not that much of a game changer but hear me out. The task force is being dismantled and they need to give the viewers sth that they won’t expect. And bring some new spice in s9. With Liz going full time into crime, it seems a lot easier for them to kill off Ressler.

My only counter debate to my point is that they would have killed him off the moment he got shot (like they did with Meera) rather than show him being treated.

I really need to know what you think. Please tell me he’s not gonna die cause honestly who on earth will watch the show then?

Hi there! I have to say a special thank you to you, @alrightygirl, and to my anon (above) who I have lumped in, for the shoutouts on my stories. I came to Tumblr in the first place during the hiatus between S2/S3 in part because I realized some of my fav fanfic authors (@aussieokie !) were here so I am especially happy to read this.

I'm not sure people realize how much we fanfic writers thrive on feedback, and especially on the multi chapter works we invested so much time into. So thank you, and I have to say I really am looking forward to the end of the season so I can step away from the BTS hunt and my inbox and get back to just creating. Hopefully the writers will leave things in a good place in 8.22 so there's plenty to work with. Ok, on to the substance of your ask and I'll put in a jump because I can already tell this is getting long.

I really do NOT think Ressler will die. I didn't think so before 8x19 and I still don't think so after the "medical drama" of 8x20. Because that's what I think they're doing - they're creating drama because it's the end of the season and they want people freaking out and guessing over who will survive. Call it the curse of cable, or thrillers or whatever, but we as audiences have been conditioned to believe that major characters have to die every year, even if it's pointless.

The thing is, The Blacklist has never been that show. They have killed three "main characters" in the life of the show. Meera in S1 (and I later read Parminder only had a one-year deal), Tom in S5 (with huge fanfare and foreshadowing and an entire "hero" arc following a failed spinoff with a new series eagerly awaiting him at NBC), and Samar in S6 after the actress specifically requested to be released from her contract after S5 and gave them time to write her character an appropriate conclusion arc which also had huge foreshadowing.

Could they go a different route this year? Sure. We're late in the life of the show and twists and cliffhangers and budgets all come into play but the thing is - I just still really don't see it when it comes to Ressler.

For me, the characters' perspective is always paramount. What purpose would Ressler's death serve? It would make Liz more upset (because, you know, Sam, Tom, Katarina, her sister, her whole team weren't enough?). And other than that......?

The audience already knows the gravity of the stakes. So does Liz. So does every other character. The only purpose Ressler's death would serve that I see (and to be clear, I am focusing only on the characters in the show not the irrational fandom hate for his character) is to "punish" Liz more, to make her feel worse about what she's done, to deal another body blow on top of all that she's suffered already.

I don't think Liz needs that. (I'm positive nearly all of Reddit disagrees).

She turned herself in to Cooper because she recognized the bloodshed needed to end after she FEARED losing him. She stayed by Ressler's side and spoke her entire speech in the hearse and by his unconscious side because she can't handle losing him too. This is exactly the scenario the writers teased when Eisendrath teased all those months ago that maybe he would use her feelings for him to get her to come back.

Source (X)

He didn't overtly "use" her feelings in the end because that is not Ressler. He is not that guy. But in the end, her feelings for him were EXACTLY why she turned herself in.

I don't think Liz doesn't need to be punished further or suffer more in anyone's eyes except those who still can't come to terms with her war against Red. I don't think the writers feel that way about her character. To the contrary, they introduced a hallucinated Kaplan to try to give her a pass and also had her give lengthy explanations to both Ressler and Aram defending her behavior. I think from all I have read and seen that the writers view Liz as a victim of circumstances caused by Red - something Cooper has also articulated to Panabaker along the way in defending why Liz has done what she's done under extraordinary circumstances. We can all agree or disagree on the why and the method and the extremes but the bottom line is that I think the writers still view Liz as more "victim" or "forced criminal" than diabolical villain so killing Ressler, on top of everyone else Liz has lost, is just another deep blow on top of all the blows that have turned her into who she is. I think we're past the point that that is necessary and we'll be even further past that point after 8.21/8.22 when Liz learns some truths.

This has gotten crazy long so I'll just add these final thoughts which I have also articulated in prior posts:

- I think if the writers were going to write out Ressler - an original character from the Pilot - they would do so with more hype and fanfare and story than what he's gotten this season. Sure he was present in 8x19 a lot but it was really Liz's story. She was the heroine saving him and moving them from place to place while he suffered. I think the writers have enough respect for Diego to give him at least as much substantial story as Tom and Samar got in their sendoffs if this was really the end. He's a good guy and a good character and he deserves more than for his final moments to be a quiet fade to black in Vfib in a hospital with only Park present (or even Liz present for a final, vague, goodbye). A show that can't do that isn't a show I'm interested in watching, you know?

- his agents congratulated him on the S9 renewal back when it was announced. Hardly an indicator that a major character is getting jettisoned.

-You'd also think, if he was leaving this season, that he'd be doing more to elevate his profile on social media like he did at the end of Homeland to gear up for a new gig. He's done NOTHING.

-Finally, there has been literally nothing in JB's recent interview with The Blacklist Exposed, any of the BTS, the press, the episode descriptions, the crew photos, or anything else to date to indicate that a major actor/character is leaving. I know people can hide the ball but usually in this show, something slips through. So far - nothing. (No, I don't take Megan's thank you's or wrap party photos that way).

Anyway, hopefully we'll all be here at this time next year (or a few weeks earlier if things are back to normal), analyzing S9 and all that has happened. Thanks for the ask!

#alrightygirl #ask #anon #Donald ressler #spoilers and speculation #8.21 #8.22

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is-it-madness · 4 years

Text

Metal Fingers

A/N 1: This fic is for my lovely beta/bestie @wowjeena Heyyo, would you be up to writing a soulmate au with Bucky? You can choose which type of soulmate au but can you make the reader a normal person (so not an Avenger or anything related)?? Thanks girl and if you don’t wanna that’s chill 👉🏼👉🏼 So... it’s not exactly a soulmate au, but I hope this is okay instead ☺️💜💜 I’m also so sorry it took so long. I hope you like it, my dear.

A/N 2: The Bucky Barnes Exhibit states he was born in 1916, but at the bottom where it gives his life span, it says he was born in 1917. I googled it to find the correct year, and it said 1917… I don’t know what to do with that information, other than to tell you guys there’s a mistake in the movie.

A/N 3: I apparently couldn’t make this a one shot, so it’ll be a multi part story. I’m aiming between 3-5 parts

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x single mom!reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.5k+

~~~

Part 1

A Fallen Comrade.

James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes

Born in 1916, Barnes grew up the oldest child of four. An excellent athlete who also excelled in the classroom. Barnes enlisted in the Army shortly after the attack on Pearl Harbor. After winter training at Camp McCoy, Wisconsin, Barnes and the rest of the 107th shipped out to the Italian front. Captured by Hydra troops later that fall, Barnes endured long periods of isolation, deprivation and torture. But his will was strong. In an ironic twist of fate, his prison camp was liberated by none other than his childhood friend, Steve Rogers, now Captain America.

Reunited, Barnes and Rogers led Captain America’s newly formed unit, The Howling Commandos. Barnes’ marksmanship was invaluable as Rogers and his team destroyed Hydra bases and disrupted Nazi troop movements throughout the European Theater.

He knew these words. He read and reread them dozens— if not hundreds— of times. He wrote them down in every one of his notebooks as he was scrapping, searching for his memories that were just out of his reach. He could nearly taste them. They fluttered teasingly in front of him: close, but not close enough for him to snatch out of the air of uncertainty.

He pulled a fresh notebook from his bag and a pencil, worried away from teeth and words.

Start with what you know…

My name is James Buchanan Barnes. I was taken captive by Hydra and was used by them. I know a man named Steve. He was my friend.

He trailed off. This is where he always was left floating in a sea of not knowing. He was left grasping for more. He was a starved man, empty without his memories. The few he managed to uncover did little to tide him over from insanity. He bit at that familiar indentation on his pencil, trying to think of something, anything at this point that was more than those four simple sentences he’s written everyday for the past several weeks. Sighing and pulling his baseball cap lower in frustration, Bucky returned his supplies to his bag, stood, and swung it over his right shoulder. Eyes low, and clutching his bag, Bucky made his way towards the exit of the crowded museum. Ever since the Potomac, this section of the Smithsonian was more packed than usual.

Nearly there. Nearly there.

It was an understatement to say that Bucky Barnes didn’t like crowded areas. Too many bodies, pressing, and pushing against each other, loud noises, pointless conversations discussing mundane things.

Nearly there. Nearly ther—

“Oof!”

He wouldn’t have noticed the boy that ran into him if his bag hadn’t slipped from his hand, spilling out the contents onto the floor. Bucky hurriedly crouched to retrieve his precious memories. He barely registers the boy picking up the items that had strayed a bit further.

“Here you go Mister! I’m sorry for bumping into you like that.”

Bucky silently takes his belongings back from the little boy standing in front of him.

Bucky unintentionally begins to analyze him.

Probably seven or eight. Bright eyes. Tousled hair. Skinny. Doesn’t clear 100 pounds soaking.

He shakes his head. Stop. No more.

“Whoa, cool! Metal fingers!!”

Bucky quickly retracts his fingerless-gloved hand.

The boy pulls his hand from his sweatshirt pocket. “Yours are cooler, but I have metal fingers too! Well, actually it’s a metal arm because the doctors had to get rid of my real one because I got hurt super bad, but I think it’s really cool.”

The boy said this all extremely fast, Bucky had to blink a few times to register what he had said. A compliment? For his hand? A hand that’s maimed, killed, and caused so many people to suffer?

“Uh… I… I have a metal arm too.”

The little boy’s eyes widened even more. He wasn’t sure what made him do it, but Bucky took off his glove and showed it to the boy.

He took Bucky’s hand in his and stared at it, looking back and forth at Bucky’s hand and his. Bucky stood there stiffly, unsure how to respond. The boy looked up at Bucky solemnly.

“Do you have super powers?” he whispered.

Bucky couldn’t help but crack a smile at his seriousness, but before he could answer, a woman came running through the crowd.

“Noah!”

The boy turned to give her a lopsided grin. “Hi Mom!”

“How many times have I told you to stay by my side, young man?”

The boy, Noah, dropped Bucky’s hand and took a step closer to the woman. “Sorry. But Mom!”

A raised brow silenced Noah. The woman looked up at Bucky.

“I’m so sorry if he was bothering you. He’s very social.”

Bucky forgot how to speak for a minute. The woman standing in front of him was… well, he’d never seen anyone as beautiful as her. Bright, sparkling eyes confirming where Noah got his from, a soft voice, and a sweet smile.

“Oh, uh, no. I mean, he is. I mean‒” When was the last time he had gotten tongue-tied?

Bucky cleared his throat, forced himself to try to ignore the sweet smile that was widening, and tried again. “He wasn’t bothering me. We were just talking about‒”

“His metal arm! Look at it, Mom!” Noah hurries back to Bucky’s side and holds his mechanical hand. “Look how awesome it is! And it’s huge!” He started poking Bucky’s upper arm and gasps. “And so are his muscles!! I bet he could crush anything!”

Noah began miming picking up heavy objects or crushing imaginary things, complete with sound effects. Bucky doesn’t miss Noah’s mother’s eyes widen slightly when Noah pointed out how massive his biceps are.

“Noah, honey, why don’t we go check out the exhibit?”

“Oh yeah! Let’s go, Mom!” He nearly takes off again before giving his mother a sheepish smile.

“What did you do?”

“I… I turned our map into a paper airplane.”

“And?”

“And... it… flew out of my hands?”

“Mm hmm. I see. Well, I guess we’ll just have to come back another time.”

Noah gasps and clutches his mom’s hand. “No! Please Mom! Don’t do this to me!!”

Her laugh causes Bucky’s heart to skip a few beats, and it frustrates him that he doesn’t know why.

“Which exhibit are you looking for?”

Noah looks at Bucky and salutes. “We’re here to see the Mister Captain America exhibit.”

“I could take you guys there.”

What. On earth. Gave him that idea?!

“Woo! Let’s‒”

Noah’s cheer was cut off by his mother. “Oh, no that’s okay. I’m sure you’re busy and you probably have something to get to you.”

She’s right… Why did I even offer in the first place? I can’t‒

“It’s not a problem. I was heading over there right now actually.”

Jesus! What’s wrong with me?

Noah grabbed his mother’s hand and followed Bucky to the famed exhibit.

~~~

“So, I take it Noah’s a fan of the Captain?”

The beautiful lady standing next to him nodded. “Yeah, Noah loves him; really looks up to him.”

“Makes sense, he’s a good guy.”

“Sounds like you’ve met him before.”

“You could say that.”

They were pulled away from their conversation when Noah ran up to them, grinning.

“Mom! Look how skinny Steve was! And, and his friend? Um… Bucky? Yeah! Bucky! He would always help Steve out because Steve would always get in fights! So Bucky would come and have to save him!”

Noah then proceeded to animatedly tell his audience how Steve became the Captain and fought in the War. When he went to go read the display in front of Steve’s motorcycle, Bucky turned back to the woman.

“Is this his first time here?”

She nodded and smiled. “I promised I would take him when I had a day off. He’s been waiting for weeks.”

A pause.

“How ‘bout you?”

“What?” Damn that smile! He got distracted.

“I take it this isn’t your first time here?”

“No, ma’am.”

Her giggle caused his firm expression to slip into a small smile.

Bucky spent the rest of the afternoon showing Noah around. He learned that Noah and his mother had been in a terrible car accident two years before. The injuries Noah sustained to his right arm were irreversible, thus leading to an amputation, a prosthetic arm, and even though she didn’t say, expensive medical bills burdened on his mother.

When the museum closed, Noah was asking his mother when they’d be able to return.

“I’m not sure baby. How about next weekend?”

Noah did a little dance showing his affirmation. Then he looked at Bucky.

“Will you be here too, Mr. James?”

“Uh, yeah sure kid. I’ll be here.”

Noah fist pumped as his mother said goodbye to Bucky.

~~~

Holy shit. Holy shit!

You had been trying to keep your cool ever since you found Noah with James. You were eating dinner and you still hadn’t gotten over him. That man was fucking stunning. Blue, blue eyes that were filled with such sorrow, a smile that made your insides flutter, and a deep voice you were willing to listen to for hours on end. Soft and sonorous. And he was so sweet and kind with Noah. That alone had you taking a liking to him.

“Mom?! Mom!”

“Oh— sorry, baby. What’s wrong?”

“Thanks for taking me to the museum.”

You ruffle his hair. “Thanks for being so patient for me.”

He smiles as he shovels pasta into his mouth.

~~~

My Ride or Die:

@lehuka123 @thejournalman @myraiswack @loki-yoursaviourishere @rebloggingeverything @just-the-hiddles @confetti-its-an-imagine-blog @thehumanistsdiary @fanfictionaries @astheworlddturns @bbarnestan @buckyfan12

#bucky fic #bucky barnes #bucky fluff #Bucky Barnes fic #Bucky x you #Bucky Barnes x you #Bucky Barnes fluff #bucky x single mom #Bucky Barnes x single mom #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #Bucky fanfiction #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Metal Fingers #thea writes #Metal Fingers part 1

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pricemarshfield · 3 years

Text

i dig you

A fluff & angst Amberprice fic. Chapter 1/2. Read on AO3 here.

Chloe still seems shocked every time Rachel sits next to her at lunch. She hides it well, snarks at anyone who questions them, teases Rachel about the plays she still brings to read and reread again and again.

But Rachel's pretty insightful, and she notices when Chloe's eyes widen, when she shifts like she's not quite sure what to do, when her smile dims a little when Victoria loudly questions why Rachel's still hanging around the soon-to-be-dropout.

She's not sure what to do about it. If she just tells her no, Chloe, I do want to be here still, she's sure Chloe'd find a way to take it the wrong way, question why she needed to bring it up, deny she ever doubted it in the first place. One or all of those things. She loves her, but her abandonment issues run deep. Rachel could punch Victoria, but she'd definitely get kicked out for that, and she doesn't want to risk law school.

So she makes an effort to include Chloe in everything. Chloe sits in on rehearsals, ignoring Mr. Keaton's increasingly desperate attempts to get her to join or at least take the intro elective class. They get high in the junkyard, find a little room and make it their own with graffiti (with actual spray paint, thank you, not a Sharpie). Rachel watches Chloe's weird movies, Chloe watches Rachel's Broadway bootlegs, they listen to punk and drive around in the truck, fabric of the seat replaced so they can't see the deep, dark red stain from when she got stabbed.

It doesn't change anything. Chloe still looks at her like it'll be the last time they hang out every time they have some minor disagreement, texts a hundred times in a row begging her not to leave her every time she gets drunk without Rachel there to reassure her in person. It's...a little exhausting, if she's being honest. She loves Chloe, she wants to help her! But it's...sometimes she's just trying to have fun with some other group, and it's been three parties of that in a row.

"You texting your girlfriend?" asks some well-meaning newbie to the Vortex Club. Rachel opens her mouth to deny it, already dreading having to make herself heard over Victoria's snide commentary and Nathan's barely-veiled homophobia, but then her phone goes off again, and again, and one more time for good measure.

"I do have to take this," she says, and pretends she can't hear the conversation that kicks up before the door's fully shut behind her.

The cool, fresh air outside is refreshing, and she takes a couple deep breaths before calling Chloe.

"Rachel," Chloe says, voice slurring enough that Rachel's heart immediately kicks into a higher gear.

"Hey, Chlo," Rachel says, a nickname she has not used once in her life. "What's up?"

"Wher're you?" Chloe asks instead. Rachel doesn't hear the sound of the train, so probably not in the junkyard? But it could just not be passing.

"At Blackwell," Rachel says, which isn't, technically, a lie. She's on school grounds, and she says it casually enough that Chloe doesn't immediately push. "Do you want to come over? We could put on a movie, light some incense."

Chloe laughs, and the sound is light and easy before it cuts out abruptly. She can't hear anything on the other end.

"Chloe? Are you okay?"

"I'm fucking fine," Chloe says, and she keeps her voice quiet, so that means she's at her house. Rachel's tipsiness from earlier in the night has long since faded, she's probably good to drive, and she really, really doesn't want to leave Chloe alone. There's an edge to her voice that Rachel doesn't trust, reminds her of the fragility in her mom's voice the last time she visited before apparently disappearing off the face of the earth.

Rachel hopes she's in rehab. But she thinks Rose would tell her if that was the case.

"Okay," Rachel says. "I'd still like to hang out, if you're free."

"'Course I'm free," Chloe says. "i don't have any fuckin' friends, do I." It's not said like a question.

"You have me."

"Right," Chloe says. "Just the best of friends."

Rachel's already in the parking lot, trying to remember where the hell she'd parked the car. (Her dad's: knowing how much evidence they have on him working with Damon, he's been inclined to give her everything she wants, especially now that she's already met her mom. Rose still tries, too.) "Yeah. We're best friends, Chloe. You're the person I care about most in this shithole town."

"Yeah," Chloe says. "Yeah, when are we leaving, again? Thought you wanted to leave more than anything?"

"I did!" Rachel says, then corrects, "I do. I had to heal up after getting stabbed, remember?"

It's shitty and manipulative, but it works; Chloe's irritation switches to concern. "Yeah. I remember."

"But I am feeling better now," Rachel says. "I'm ready to go when you are."

"Now?"

"Sure," Rachel says. "Tell me where you are."

"Step-dick's house," Chloe says, quieter now. "Do you mean it?"

"Of course I mean it," Rachel says. "Do you still have all the clothes I packed you?"

"Yeah," Chloe says, voice hitching a little like she's about to cry. "I do."

"Awesome," Rachel says, excited despite herself. "Then I'll see you soon."

---

Rachel wants to be ready for the grand adventure with her friend at her side, but Chloe's house is more than a couple minutes' drive from Blackwell, which gives the logical parts of her plenty of time to ask her what the fuck she thinks she's doing.

They have no money. Rachel's barely gotten her first credit card, and it has, like, 1500 dollars on it. Which is a lot of money, but she's already spent some of it on alcohol, on their half-decent fakes, on Venmoing Frank for their weed or the other things she's tentatively tried. So they have about a thousand, which will cover gas to LA, at least, and probably food, and do they really need hotel rooms?

But of course they need hotel rooms, they can't just park by the side of the road in the middle-of-nowhere freeways. Those are like...fifty bucks? A hundred bucks? They can share a bed, that should make it cheaper.

So. A thousand will get them to LA. Then they'll...get jobs, Rachel guesses.

She's got this idea of herself working at a diner, wearing some cute outfit with pops of red, serving coffee and making small talk with the chefs while she waits for her big break. But that's only good for the modelling; she wants to go into law one day, too.

Maybe she can transfer to a school there? Showing she's independent enough to live on her own (with Chloe, of course, but without her parents there) has to look good on an application?

Or reckless and irresponsible, like her dad keeps calling Chloe.

All-in-all, Rachel's doubting everything in her entire life as she pulls up to Chloe's house. Chloe isn't outside, and she's about to throw some pebbles at her window when the front door opens with barely a creak.

"Did you oil the hinges?" Rachel asks, trying to keep the tone light. "Handy."

Chloe beams at her, wearing Rachel's old tarot shirt. Fuck, her tarot decks, she wants to bring those. All her things. At least some clothes. Probably some food, too?

"Do you have all the stuff you wanna bring?" Rachel asks. "We might need to stop by my place."

"That's what you said last time," Chloe says, but looks at Rachel, wearing her party outfit--only a tank top and some high shorts, which are cute but not great for the only outfit to have in a big life change--and shrugs.

Rachel breathes a sigh of relief. "Plus, they'll get mad if we steal the car. And gas is gonna be expensive enough."

"Don't care," Chloe says. "I'll take the truck."

Chloe, who is visibly swaying on her feet, is absolutely not good to drive. Rachel thinks for a second--if she drives her dad's car back, Chloe can be in the passenger seat, but then they'll have to walk with all her bags back to the truck. If they take the truck, Rachel can leave the keys and a note explaining where it is. They'll be mad, but whatever.

"Can I drive your truck, actually?" Rachel asks, and Chloe shrugs again. It won't be the first time behind the wheel of the truck, but it will be the first time on actual roads, not the paths they'd cleared in the junkyard. "Thanks, Chloe."

"Sure," Chloe says, tossing her the keys and yanking at the handle on her side. Rachel opens her door, reaches over to unlock the passenger side so Chloe can climb in. "What are we getting?"

"Clothes," Rachel says. "Maybe my tarot decks."

A couple of the plays she has physical copies of. Any and all drugs left in her room. Her flashlight that Chloe made for her. The important things.

"Okay," Chloe says. "You mean it? We're gonna leave?"

"I do," Rachel says, and she should kiss her. She should. She has before. She wants to. But she looks at Chloe, eyes still wide with disbelief that Rachel will follow her, will help lead the way out. If she pushes this, and she's wrong...

Rachel grabs her hand instead, smiles at her. Chloe squeezes it, and they keep holding hands the whole way to the Amber house. Rachel hopes she won't ever let go.

#amberprice #rachel amber #chloe price #life is strange #my fics #OKAY done crossposting sorry for spam everyone

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sheepfulsheepyardinspace · 4 years

Note

Do you have any Star Wars fanfic recommendations, or have a link to someone else's list? I really wanna veg out.

oh my god, DO I. this may have been the best ask in the world. i’m not really sure what u want a feel for, so i threw together some of my favorite longfics for maximum veg time from the ot/pt and links for swr and swtcw recs. they’re pretty much all luke-anakin/vader centric, since that’s kinda my bread and butter.

let’s start with frodogenic, who wrote the first longfic i ever read in sw and might be one of the funniest authors ever. they once reviewed my fanfic & i nearly cried from joy. anyway.

The Father, 284k+, complete. “Ten years after ROTS, tormenting nightmares of his unborn child drive Darth Vader to extraordinary measures with unexpectedly drastic consequences. Clearly, experience has taught Darth Vader nothing...”

this is my og star wars fic and boy oh boy is it amazing. i will never get over this. i don’t want to spoil anything but when i say the final chapters are great? i mean they’re legendary. sometimes i still think about them & wish upon a star that i could be such a great writer. vader’s amazing, han is spectacular, and the ocs are fantastic.

Far More Than Rubies, 70k+, complete. “Nine years after AOTC, tragedy revisits the Lars Homestead. Little Luke Skywalker is suddenly plunged into chaos as the rebel movements discover a secret military project that may make a crucial difference in the war with the Empire.”

the spiritual twin of The Father, FMTR takes a look at padmé’s character and relationship with both luke and anakin/vader that’s hard to beat. it’s darker and heavier than The Father, but it hits those same sweet, sweet emotional beats while raising the age-old question: if padmé had lived, what would she have done?

The Family Tree, 12k, complete. “In which Luke Skywalker is stranded in a tree waiting for a flash flood to recede. Too bad he's got company...”

okay, i admit, this isn’t a longfic, but it is a longshot, and it’s amazing. the imagery and description always blow me away, and the interaction (canon-compliant) between luke and vader just [chef’s kiss] get me. vader’s in full, glorious form, and it makes it all the harder when luke wrestles with the knowledge that vader is his father.

Sibling Revelry, 25k, complete. “After Bespin and before Endor, Darth Vader is shocked to discover that Luke and Leia are twins. He's even more shocked when Imperial Intelligence reports that Organa and Skywalker are, erm, a tad closer than previously suspected.”

this is complete crack and humor in the best way possible. it’s crack treated entirely seriously, and you will be in stitches, i promise. no matter how many times i’ve read this i break down.

KittandChips (@kittandchips) writes what i can only describe as food for the soul. the luke-vader interaction is insanely amazing, the world building of daily imperial life and imperial governance is amazing, and vader just has a special je ne sais quoi that u must read to understand––tragic, funny, and so, so fatherly. they’re currently rewriting the Force Bond Series to fit in with newer canon, so i will joyously binge reread the entire again (including the new Force Bond: Mustafar Weekend).

Force Bond 1: Orphan, 47k, complete. “After Owen and Beru are killed by a mysterious stranger, young Luke ends up as an orphan on Coruscant. It's a race against time as Obi-Wan struggles to find Luke before Vader realizes the boy is his son.”

Orphan kicks off the series, which tracks vader and luke’s relationship through the perils of luke’s teenagerhood while growing up under the eye of the emperor and imperial court. it’s filled with slow growth, struggle and misunderstandings as darth vader tries to single parent, and pay off in every installment. the entire series clocks in around 777k+ and is the most joyful, fulfilling reading you’ll ever have. promise.

darth-nickels (@darth--nickels) writes darker, twistier, and terribly, terribly heartwrenching aus. they’ve got a whole host, but let me introduce to my two favorites. also, check out their faux-academia on vader. it’s amazing and i love it, but i admit i am an academia hoe.

Dooku Captured, Pt 2, 16k, complete. “Dooku is taken alive onboard the Invisible Hand, and Sidious' web is torn. The Sith Lord wonders if death might have been preferable to clumsy interrogation by Anakin Skywalker.”

Dooku Captured is a longshot au told from Dooku’s pov which takes the beginning of ROTS and throws it on its head. it’s a fascinating outside perspective of anakin and obi-wan’s relationship and such and interesting examination of dooku’s psyche and especially his complex relationship with the jedi order, qui-gon, yoda, and palpatine. i cannot rec this one enough.

Black Mirror, 90k, incomplete. “The Ghost crew returns to the Lothal when they hear the Empire is investigating the Jedi Temple there. They learn Vader is alone and decide to take him out-- but what they find could change the course of Galactic history.”

Black Mirror diverges into swr territory, but make no mistake: this is entirely an examination of vader and, later, obi-wan as well as ahsoka. luke makes his appearance later in the game, and boy oh boy will you love luke’s portrayal is a microcosm of luke and vader’s relationship within canon. heed the tags, though.

jerseydevious ( @jerseydevious ) is, first and foremost, one of my favorite people on earth. secondly, though, she’s an amazing writer with a deep understanding of vader’s character and psyche, a flair for beautiful depictions, and the true ability to wring every emotion out of your body.

Two and a Half Men (with a baby), 13k, incomplete. “After a long day of bargaining with Hutts and attempting to ignore his past, Darth Vader is nearing the end of his rope. When he discovers his two-year-old son, it's the straw that breaks the semi-rational Sith Lord's back; in a rash act worthy of the Skywalker name, he scoops his son into his arms, steals a shuttle from his own fleet, and punches in random hyperspace coordinates to a destination on the other side of the galaxy. Unfortunately, father and son are not the only ones on the ship.”

Two and a Half Men will stick with you, dude. like no other. i promise. it’s a whirlwind ride with obi-wan, vader, and piett and as funny as it is heartbreaking. it touches on some heavy issues and doesn’t shy away from looking at the damage done to vader––again, heed the tags.

Helioseismology, 4k, complete. “Luke gets shot down on a supply run and caught in an ice storm. It's extremely lucky that his father followed him there.“

i’ll admit. im completely biased about this one because it was a birthday gift to me and i am sucker for litcherally anything when jd puts pen to paper, but believe me when i say you will be awed by the depth and tangled relationships between these luke and vader that jersey can illustrate in a stroke of the paintbrush. im love. always.

izzythehutt ( @izzythehutt ) i am blown away by the intricate dialogue and characterization, always. and the latin puns? im sold. im also a sucker for latin puns, but that’s a story for a different time.

In Loco Pirates, 34k, complete. “A down-on-his-luck Hondo Ohnaka manages to capture the unicorn of all bounties--Luke Skywalker, which sends Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith, on a painfully familiar trip to the planet Florrum to collect his prize. The failed negotiations leave Vader in the awkward position of being stuck in a besieged pirate bunker, trying to balance keeping his wayward child safe (and in his custody) with controlling the tongue of a loose-lipped pirate who--to the surprise of no one--has a bad habit of telling 'amusing' anecdotes from the Clone Wars.”

hondo, aka the best character of swtcw, is brought to life just as vividly on paper as on screen. his entire personality brings luke and vader’s difficulties in a sort of incredulous light, which makes it as funny as it is vulnerable and tragic. the sequel, Palpatine Ad Portas, brings piett into the spotlight, and oh man do his interactions with palpatine and vader bring u all the uncomfortable vibes. relish in it.

sparklight ( @littlesparklight ) man. lemme introduce u to an amazing prolific and detailed writer. i will never get over the series they’ve written & neither will u.

Where Our Intrepid Hero Doesn’t Get Away, 122k, incomplete. “One-shots surrounding either AU situations of canon/legends works where Luke would normally have gotten away (or Vader is simply inserted into the action to come pick his child up) but in these instances doesn't, or completely new scenarios of the same. There are no deep ruminations on consequences of the situations here, just our awful Sith dad picking his son up when he'd rather not be.”

exactly what it says on the tin. u know those glorious moments of fanfic where luke’s gotten captured and ur on pins and needles, waiting for vader to show up in a moment of dark glory? here’s the moment. here’s all the moments.

Space Race, 122k, incomplete. “Owen gives in to Luke's wish to attend the Imperial Academy and Obi-Wan is too late to avert it, though he's not too late to make sure Luke leaves Arkanis before Vader can gets his hands on him. Luke spends over a month running around the galaxy before his father gets him, and from there...”

this story relishes in chase and boy is it fun. it will keep you on the edge of your seat and it’s an amazing ride.

The Suns of Tatooine, 85k, complete. “Luke ends up on a moon swamped in dark side energy after a mission goes wrong, then his father appears... and then they go on a bit of a learning experience. This could've been the only thing that would come of getting through a Sith complex with his father, but thanks to going to free Han earlier than the gang did otherwise, more revelations are had. Will that change anything?”

this series is a thoughtful, contemplative piece examining the nature of the force and the relationship the skywalkers have with tatooine. the descriptions are beautiful, the inventiveness is amazing, and you’ll be thinking about it for long afterwards.

an additional few…

Between Flight and Longing; 34k, complete. “Luke Skywalker and Han Solo journey to the planet Balen'ar on a desperate mission and find more than they'd bargained for.”

a classic and it is for a reason. the interaction between han, luke, and vader is so spectacular and the slow trudge of going through the forest with your greatest enemy and best friend is something hilarious. the end is bittersweet and fantastic.

The Sith Who Brought Life Day, 13k, complete. “An Imperial officer loses a bet and has to get Darth Vader a present for Life Day.”

somewhere between terrifying and dull, this fic presents a canon-compliant look at the hunt for luke and the grinding wheels of the empire. the oc is amazing and it echoes in true star wars spirit: sometimes it’s just some dude who can change the galaxy.

Quintessence, 5k, complete. ‘“Well, Master, I think I’ve found the one positive aspect of this situation.” “Which is?” “The Temple won’t have to pay the costs for our funeral pyres.”’

pure hilarity and shenanigans abound in pre-aotc obi-wan and anakin hijink goodness. lemme tell u––u will deeply sympathize with mace windu afterwards. additionally, check out the rest of the author’s oneshots! they’re deeply thoughtful and the interactions the author writes between obi-wan and anakin are always gold.

some extras & shameless self-promotion

here’s a full list of recommendations for star wars rebels fanfic in case this is what you’re looking for (remember when this used to be a swr blog, lmao)

i’ve also written sw fanfic, both swr and luke-vader centric. drop by and tell me if it’s any good!

#also if anybody knows these authors' tumblr accounts pls lmk so i can link them #guys remember piett?#i miss piett #firmus piett #star wars #star wars fanfic #sw fanfic #sw fic #three two one boom #jerseydevious #luke skywalker #darth vader #anakin skywalker #star wars rebels #late-in-the-day #idk if any of these r new at all to anyone #but they r my faves :)

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historyofshipping · 4 years

Text

“You called me every day for 2,199 days...”

This was literally just supposed to be like a paragraph and the next thing I knew it was a 1k word monstrosity. Not beta’ed, not even reread. If I read it, I’ll chicken out and won’t post. So with that, enjoy.

---

“You're in an endless desert with a vast purple sky. A hand reaches out for your own. Whose is it?”

“Go float yourself.”

They’ve been at this for hours. Levitt is tired and Clarke refuses to give an inch. Octavia had told her how to beat the M-Cap machine and “go float yourself” had become her mantra. Clarke was angry. Clarke was confused. Clarke was just DONE.

“Clarke, please. I don’t want to hurt you. If you don’t give me information, they will bring in someone who WILL. They want answers and they don’t care if they hurt you, or even kill you.”

“Go float yourself. Go float yourself. Go float yourself.”

Suddenly, a different voice comes through. “Clarke.”

That voice, his voice, is what finally breaks through Clarke’s chanting. Bellamy’s voice causes her to stutter just long enough for m-cap to break through.

Damn him.

(Rest under cut)

Bellamy’s face immediately appears on the screen, plucked straight from Clarke’s memories. No, no, no, no, no! Clarke’s mind screams. It’s too late. The neural link has been established.

Of course, it’s the memories she’s tried to keep hidden the deepest that come racing out of her.

“Bellamy. It’s been 73 days and I miss you. I miss you all so much. I would give anything to hear a stupid joke right now. I…”

“Day 320, Madi is really sick. She has a fever and I… I’m not sure how to help her. I’m so scared.”

“Day 1,298. We went swimming in the river today and I finally told her about the time the river monster got Octavia’s leg. I thought it might scare her away from the water; but, as always, Madi was braver than I thought. I remember that day coming back with O’s leg torn up. I thought you were going to kill me. But that’s when I learned that you would do anything for your sister. I think that’s when I began to realize you weren’t all bad.”

“It’s day 2,020 and I’m beginning to lose hope of you guys coming back to earth. Did you even make it? Have I been talking to ghosts all this time? I was going to wait until you came home to tell you this but I’m afraid I’ll never get the chance. So Bellamy, if you can hear me… I love you. Please come home. I need you.”

At this last revelation, Clarke finally breaks the neural link but remains firmly strapped to her chair. Bellamy shuts off the machine, his mind racing with Clarke’s memories playing on repeat. Each one getting louder and louder until it’s deafening. But all he can focus on is the “I love you.”

Clarke never wanted him to find out this way. Hell, after he came back to the ground and found out he had moved on, she never wanted him to find out at all. She felt silly for holding onto hope all that time.

“Clarke ---” “WHAT?!” she snaps back at him. She feels betrayal down to her very core and she is furiously fighting off tears. She won’t let him see her cry.

“Did you mean it?”

Clarke scoffs. “Of course I did. Not that it mattered in the end. You never heard me and you moved on.” She sounds more bitter than she intended to, but weeks of pent up feelings are beginning to seethe out of her.

Bellamy is trying to process these memories. He shouldn’t care. He doesn’t care. Loving Clarke was selfish and he had killed too many people for her. Too many people had died for Clarke to live.

“It’s a lie. You called me every day for 2,199 days and left me to die in the fighting pits. No one could do that to someone they love.”

Bellamy’s voice was beginning to break. It was the first time she had heard something resembling emotions threatening to break through since his return from Etherea. Clarke knew this voice – Bellamy was at war with himself.

Which meant that Bellamy was still in there.

“I’m so sorry, Bellamy,” Clarke all but whispers. “I waited for six years for you to come back, for us to be a family again, and I thought you chose that family over Madi and me. I was wrong. I’m sorry. I did love you though. I still love you.”

“Clarke… no. I can’t. I can’t go back. The Shepherd is leading us to a place without war. Without death, without loss ---”

“Without emotions, Bellamy! We did this before, with ALIE. You know that’s no way to live. What is the point of surviving if we turn off what makes us human? The heart and the head, Bellamy. If you fight for a world without those things…. it’s not a world I want to live in.”

“Clarke –” his voice breaks and his tears finally let loose. “I lost you. TWICE. I mourned you for six years and then you were alive again. I had a second chance. I poisoned my sister for you! But before I could do anything, you were taken away again. I can’t… I can’t do it again. I won’t live in a world without you in it – not again. And this, this is how we make that happen.”

“No, Bellamy. It’s not. We will find a way to get to peace, but this isn’t it. Listen to your heart, Bellamy. Truly listen. What is it telling you?”

Clarke watches the emotions war on his face. Bellamy, her Bellamy, is coming back. “Bellamy, I still love you. I always will, no matter what you decide to do.”

And that, that is what breaks him. He immediately unstraps her and she wraps her arms around him, refusing to let go.

Bellamy knows they don’t have much time before they’re discovered. They have to get out of here. So he gently pulls away and throws a lopsided grin her way.

“So what now, princess?”

#the 100 #bellarke #bellarke drabble #angst with a happy ending #tropes i got tropes #levitt the 100 #i am not a fiction writer #but this needed to come out

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lemonietrinket · 4 years

Text

Cosiest Place on Earth ||| Kun x Reader

Summary: Where Kun is relaxing in peace, and a certain someone decides its a prime time to ‘annoy’ him Genres: Sickly sweet fluff, plus some humour Warnings: Tiny bit of scary but it’s not actually anything scary (if that make sense) Word count: 1259 Song: Heart Flutter - W24 AN: an edit of an old piece revamped to—hopefully—a much higher standard. reading the original wasnt.... painful but it wasnt exactly fun either :/ im so sorry guys for subjecting you to my writing back then

gender neutral reader

~~~

The night was oddly still, a starless sky beckoning darkness across the thin face of the moon, an icy wind trickling through the smallest gap in the window behind a set of closed curtains, encouraging them to breathe in the shadows. Despite this, Kun was soaking up the peace.

He loved his groupmates, he really did. They were extremely talented, funny and, on the whole, easy to get along with people. They were annoying sometimes yes, but they mostly did as they were told, and after hearing from other leaders at the award shows, he realised he could have had it a whole lot worse. However, the thing they were best at was reminding him of how precious some true quiet really was.

And so, as soon as they all became preoccupied with some new racing game he hadn’t been paying enough attention to remember the name of, he leapt at the chance. Cut to now, and Kun was curled up in his bed, buried neatly under three blankets to combat the cold that had defeated the radiator. He had shuffled himself into the corner of his bed, as close to the hushed lamp as he could get without the bulb blinding him from the gap in the very top of the shade, and bundled the covers beneath his feet to keep in as much warmth as possible. Book in hand, his eyes trickled across the page, occasionally having to jump back as soon as he caught his thoughts scattering.

He wasn’t used to the silence and it showed. As much as he relished in a small period of it, he couldn’t ignore the gnaw of unprovoked concern. His life and the ones of those around him were so hectic that as soon as that chaos stopped it felt like something had gone wrong.

He had been about to sigh when a creak from the door stopped him mid breath. Leaning to get a clearer look, hands slipping the bookmark between the pages as he went, he felt his eyes widen as an abnormal fear etched itself inside his stomach.

Between the gap approached a figure from the dark. It had pointed head and disproportionately long arms, with strangely hackled shoulders and no face to speak of. It approached so uneasily, and Kun was already glancing at the window so as to be ready if he needed to make an escape, until the creature’s foot reached the light’s boundary.

He recognised that leg.

“Y/N…!” he groaned, flopping back into the cushions behind his back and shoving his book to the side.

You came to a halt proudly in the light, staring at him confusedly from where you’d tightened the hood of your stolen jumper around your face. “What?”

“You scared me, love…!”

“Huh?” You looked down at the layers you had put on to try and fight the cold before turning back to take in just how dark the rest of the room. You couldn’t help but giggle as you continued to make your way to your boyfriend, “Oh, I’m sorry…!”

He scoffed, watching as you came to the side of the bed. “Pssh, no you’re not.”

“I am!” you whined, beginning to clamber across the mattress. Your destination? The cosiest place on earth.

Kun shook his head as he carefully began to lift the blankets up for you to join, chuckling as you finally reached him and immediately burrowed into his side while he tucked the blankets around you. “Cold?”

“Nope, wearing hoodies like this is just part of my new fashion statement,” you sassed, waiting for him to wrap his arm around you before you linked your cold legs with his, much to his dismay.

He yelped at the contact, kicking the blankets around your feet even more. “You are so lucky that I’m such a good boyfriend.”

You just laughed, nestling your nose further into his neck and releasing your hands from your sweater paws. Unfortunately for him they weren’t much warmer, and he practically shrieked as you clutched at his jumped beneath the covers.

“Jesus, Y/N—!”

“Are you though?” you slyly enquired. “A good boyfriend?”

“You think I’m not?”

You hummed. “Well, last time I checked good boyfriends can tell the difference between a cryptid and the best thing that has ever happened to them.”

His laughter was soft and rich, and it thrummed by your ear—immediately coaxing your smile into a full blown grin. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, huh?” he murmured, gentle hand easing your hood open and off to free your hair from its confines, just so he could ease it between his fingertips. “You’d better keep it down when you say that, I don’t think it would end well if the other’s found out.”

You snickered, pressing a chaste kiss to his neck before settling back down again. Kun knew you could hear how his heart skipped a beat at you and how precious you were, and he didn’t care a single bit. Pulling the covers further up so you would be warm enough, he traced his thumb across your temple, smiling as your eyes closed happily. The two of you dipped into a momentary quiet—not an uncommon occurrence between the two of you, as comfortable silence really was its own blessing—but it wasn’t long before you spoke up coyly.

“Kun?”

“Yes, love?”

“Would you still love me if I was a cryptid?”

His love-swarmed gaze didn’t change. “Of course I would,” he said, “but please don’t go out there and get yourself turned into one. And if you are one, well… you better tell me if you are, yeah?”

You chuckled, though he noticed the ease of tiredness in your voice. “I would tell you, baby, and I’m not, I promise.”

“Sounds like something a cryptid would say,” he whispered, smile simpering upon his lips at your sleepy one. You were too adorable for him to fully comprehend in words. “Would you like some music?”

You hummed a no, and so he reached for his book from where he had discarded it by his thigh, careful to not disturb you. “I’ll read again, if that’s ok?”

He had expected a little backlash perhaps, since it would mean you wouldn’t be able to have a hand stroking your arm—the shock, the horror! Kun had to admit, then, that he was surprised when you managed to work up the rest of your energy to ask, “Read to me?”

Opening the book as best he could with one hand and placing the bookmark on the bedside table, his heart swelled at your words.

“Of course,” he replied, planting a kiss to your crown, before he turned back to the paper, words much clearer to him now.

“Hundreds of fireflies drifted over the pool of water held back by the sluice gate, their hot glow reflected in the water like a shower of sparks. I closed my eyes and steeped myself in that long-ago darkness. I heard the wind with unusual clarity. A light breeze swept past me, leaving strangely brilliant trails in the dark. I opened my eyes to find the darkness of the summer night a few degrees deeper than it had been. I twisted open the lid of the jar and took out the firefly...”

With the warmth long seeped throughout your body, cradled in the arms of the man you knew would love you through thick and thin, it wasn’t long before the words dissipated into the air, as his tender voice lulled you into sleep.

~~~

an: book excerpt is in italics and is not mine! its from a book called Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami that i really recommend you read, if you are ok with very strong themes. i studied it for my english literature coursework and i didnt hate it once! even through all that rereading and stuff so.. yeah :))

if you enjoy please leave a comment or reblog with hashtags or drop something in my asks i dont mind sksksk they really help me keep want to write!

Masterlist

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evienyx · 4 years

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Wait Wait Wait does Uncle know that Zuko is with the Ember Island Players??? Like, how does that even go down? How many threats does he send them when he finds out?? Does he low-key raze the Earth Kingdom coast first trying to look for his nephew?? Does he give them advice on how to deal with an angsty and traumatized (but won't admit it) teen?? Does he secretly travel to Ember Island with the crew to watch his nephew in a play? I NEED ANSWERS.

Oh part 2, part 2, more sudden questions. Does Uncle secretly travel to Ember Island to take Zuko on a Dragon-Discovery Trip so that he can use rainbow flames while working with the Players? When Uncle is with the Gaang, does he regale them with tales of Zuko as a player? Is he the one who takes them to the production (and later helps them get backstage)??? I NEED ANSWERS AS TO WHAT UNCLE IS UP TO AND WHAT THE GAANG KNOW (imagine they don't find out about Zuko till they defeat the Fire Lord).

- - -

Iroh had just left the fifth colonial town when the letter flew in.

Well, technically, it was two letters. One seemed to be an announcement, the other a note.

The announcement could best be described as gossip. People saying that ‘The Dragon of the West is back,’ and that he was ‘making the rounds terrorizing the Earth Kingdom and colony coast.’

Okay, that was an overstatement.

He unfolded the letter, ready to read the thinly-veiled threat from his brother that it surely was, and felt a shock to his system when, instead, his eyes landed on the familiar scrawl of his nephew.

“Zuko,” he murmured, unfurling the letter much faster now and reading it as fast as he could.

‘Uncle,

‘This is your nephew. I know I probably worried you a lot, because it’s been about two-and-half months. I’m sorry about that. I ended up on Ember Island, and I am staying with the Ember Island Players. If you want to come see me, you can figure out how to they would love to have you.

‘Your nephew.’

It was, by far, one of the worst letters Iroh had ever read. He reread it another fifteen times once he’d finished, and then had Jee set a course for the Fire Nation.

After all, it’s not like anyone banished was on board.

- - -

In all thirteen years of his nephew’s life, Iroh had never seen Zuko so... happy.

Sure, he was happy when Ursa had still been around, but this... this was different. He was laughing, and he bantered with the Ember Island Players, he insulted their acting skills, and though he was obviously trying to hide it, he clearly adored them.

And they adored him, too.

Which is why, when he finally sprung the question, the answer wasn’t much of a surprise.

“Zuko,” Iroh said, looking to his nephew who stood beside him on the balcony. Iroh had asked for some alone time with the boy, and no one had argued. “I have a question to ask you.”

“Yes, Uncle?” Zuko’s eyes were on the ship, docked out in the water, the rowboat that Iroh had taken to the shore sitting on the beach. He was frowning. He looked... sad.

“Zuko...” Iroh wet his lips, looked out at the sea, back at the door to enter the theater apartments, and then at his nephew again. “Would you like to come with me, or would you rather stay here?”

Zuko opened his mouth to answer and then blinked, as if just now realizing what Iroh had said. His eyebrows furrowed. “Stay... Stay here?”

Iroh nodded. “If they’ll have you.”

Zuko let out a laugh, and it was one of the happiest sounds Iroh had ever heard. “I was gonna say you’re gonna have to take me and jump off this roof if you wanna get back to the ship without Ami tackling you to the ground.”

“Ami?” Iroh had memorized the names he had learned, but he had only really talked to the people inside for fifteen minutes before coming out here, so he wasn’t quite sure why Ami was the one who would apparently try to fight him to the death to keep Zuko here.

“She’s the one who found me on the beach apparently. She was the first person I met when I woke up. And she tried to stop him, but Eiko also told me that she stayed by my side more than anyone while I was asleep.”

“Zuko...” Iroh didn’t quite want to ask, but it had been two-and-a-half months, and Iroh needed to know. “How long were you asleep?”

“Five-and-a-half weeks,” Zuko replied, as if it was nothing at all. As if he hadn’t lost more than a month of his life to a burn and a fever.

Iroh felt a tugging in his heart, and he thought back one more time to the light in his nephew’s eyes that he hadn’t seen in that week that he’d been awake after the Agni Kai. “Zuko... do you want to stay here?”

Zuko was silent for a long time, and then he didn’t meet Iroh’s eyes and nodded. “I think I do. Just to make sure they don’t mess up Love Amongst Dragons again.”

“What about the Avatar?”

Zuko’s face screwed up a bit. He said, “Wait here,” and then disappeared back inside. Iroh sat there for a few moments, wondering if he’d done something wrong, when his nephew reemerged, holding a rolled-up piece of parchment.

Iroh felt his stomach drop when he saw it.

It was a royal decree, with a portrait of Zuko on it, a description adding that he should have a giant burn on the side of his face, and a few quick words saying that if he was found in the Fire Nation he was to be captured, dead or alive.

“Takeo and Nori found this downtown about three-and-a-half weeks after Ami found me on the beach.”

Iroh read a bit more, and saw that anyone in the Fire Nation found helping the banished prince would be arrested immediately.

“They... didn’t turn me in.”

Zuko shook his head and waved to the side of his face where the burn was. It looked... a lot better than Iroh had expected it to. The skin was smoothed out, though a bit bumpier than the rest of his face, and a pinkish color rather than a hard red. Honestly, one might just think it was a weirdly-placed sunburn if they didn’t know any better. “Nori said she didn’t need it on her conscious, but...” Zuko smirked. “Ami says she got attached.” He shook his head, and the smile faded a bit. “They taught me to apply makeup to make it look better than it would. It’s... a bit of a process, though, so I tend to not go out too much, just to be safe. The Players do sweeps of the town every few days to make sure there are no new posters with my face for some reason.”

Iroh felt his heart sink as he realized that this was not how bad the burn scar looked normally. This was with makeup. And some of the best the world had to offer, too, if it was from the Ember Island Players.

He didn’t think he wanted to see right now. Plus, Zuko had said it took a long time to apply. No need to wash it off when it wasn’t even mid-day.

“You really mean it?” Zuko asked, breaking Iroh from his thoughts. “I can... I can stay here?”

Iroh nodded. “I’ll keep up the ruse that you’re looking for the Avatar.”

The hug was so sudden that Iroh almost fell over. When his nephew pulled away, his eyes were red.

“I didn’t... I didn’t want to write the letter. They... They made me. I was... After I saw the poster...” They both glanced at the parchment with Zuko’s un-scarred face that was now discarded on the ground. “I was... I was so scared. I’m... I’m sorry...”

Iroh said nothing, and just pulled the boy in for another embrace.

- - -

The first letter he got from Ember Island that wasn’t from Zuko (because of course he kept in touch with his nephew, still) came as a bit of a surprise.

There were two more permanent Players that Iroh hadn’t met while he was there, and one of them, a woman named Maru, was the one who wrote him the letter. It was much more professional than any of Zuko’s letters, but it basically told him that they had just started working on a new play that they would put on in a month, and that it had seven roles, and so instead of bringing in only one extra actor, Zuko was going to be filling in instead. His first role. Well, sure, it was a small role, more of a background than even a supporting one, but that wasn’t important.

Iroh was glad he got the message so far in advance because, with a quick check of the date, they would have just enough time to get from the northern part of the Earth Kingdom waters back to Ember Island in time to see the play.

Iroh turned to Jee, and told him to set a course for the Fire Nation, and then went to his quarters to see if he had anything he could use to frame the letter.

- - -

Zuko hadn’t known that Iroh was coming to visit the first time.

Iroh being who he was, was greeted with such honor when he arrived and treated with such prestige that he almost wished that he hadn’t come at all. He reminded himself multiple times that this was for Zuko, and he smiled and nodded and spoke as formally as one would expect from the Fire Lord’s brother (from the man who had been born to be Fire Lord until his world fell apart).

He was given a best seat in the house, a private balcony, with a perfect view of the stage. It had apparently been reserved by a noble couple, but they tripped over themselves as they insisted that he take it instead. Normally, he would rather sit somewhere less... royal, but this was Zuko’s first performance and he was going to have the best possible view to see it.

Zuko ended up being the right-hand man of the main antagonist, a dark spirit, and his scar was painted over black, with a replica over his other eye. He had a total of maybe ten lines, and at the end Iroh’s hands hurt from clapping.

He remembered the way backstage from the first time he had come here, when Zuko had told him where he was, and so he made his way there.

People murmured around Iroh, but they generally cleared the way. Many of them were nobles, and they all knew who the esteemed General Iroh, brother of the Fire Lord, was.

It seemed, though, that while some of the audience members were talking about him, many were also whispering about the play itself.

“A masterpiece, as usual,” one noble said to his wife. “The Ember Island Players never fail to disappoint.”

“I wonder who that new actor was,” another mused. “The young one? Who played the dark spirit’s companion? He was incredible.”

Iroh felt himself perk up a bit at that.

“The playbill says his name is ‘Li.’ What an average name.”

“He looked so young. I would bet he’s not even fourteen. No wonder they grabbed him up so quick.”

“I hope he’s still here next year. I’d love to see him act again. He was so... expressive...”

Iroh had a skip in his step the rest of the way to the backstage area.

When he entered, no eyes went to him. Everyone seemed to busy congratulating Zuko.

“Nice job, kid,” one man, Takeo, said, patting Zuko on the back. He was dressed in a dark costume and makeup as well, playing the role of the dark spirit that Zuko’s character had been working under.

“Ah, you did great!” Ami exclaimed, pushing forward and wrapping her arms around Iroh’s nephew.

“It was a very impressive first performance,” Nori agreed.

“That it was.”

Now all the attention was on him. Zuko’s makeup had already been rubbed off a bit on the side of his face without the scar. Zuko’s eyes landed on Iroh and widened before he breathed out, “Uncle?”

Iroh nodded, a gentle smile on his lips. “You didn’t think I’d miss my nephew’s first performance, did you?”

Zuko just stared, mouth gaping, before he mouthed the word ‘Uncle’ again and leaped forward, embracing Iroh in a single, quick motion. Zuko was sweating, probably from the two or three stunts he had done on stage, as well as the bright lights, and the makeup on his face was already moist and was getting all over onto Iroh’s clothes, and he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He just returned his nephew’s hug and allowed himself to revel in the fact that he had at least done right by one son.

- - -

Iroh went back to visit every few months after that. The second time he saw Zuko perform, his nephew was wearing a mask, so when he went backstage after the show he got a good look at Zuko’s scar for the first time, and he didn’t let the fourteen-year-old go for a good twenty minutes afterward.

He missed a few of the times Zuko was in a play, and sometimes when he was there there wasn’t a performance at all, but that was fine. He wasn’t there for the shows. He was there for Zuko.

He normally stayed for a few days, three to five on average. He stayed for a week each time Zuko had a birthday, because those days were important.

One time, when Zuko was fourteen, Iroh visited and was met on the beach by the sixth and final member of the permanent Ember Island Players, a man named Satoshi.

“The kid’s sick,” Satoshi said. “We would have told you, but it just happened late last night. He just woke up sick. No one knows why.”

Iroh thought of the date that he had seen on the calendar in his room that morning and felt his heart sink as he said, “I do.”

Zuko wasn’t incredibly sick, not like he must have been when Ami first found him, but he was throwing up, and he had a slight fever, and he was crying.

“Zuko.”

The boy turned to him and desperately wiped at the tears.

“Uncle,” he choked out. “I-”

“I know.”

Iroh joined his nephew on the bed, and simply held him as he cried. Zuko had been doing remarkably well for so long. It would make sense that the first time he would truly break down would be on the one-year anniversary of his banishment.

Iroh stayed silent as Zuko cried, as his nephew sobbed into his shirt until there weren’t any tears left, and the old general focused in on the scarless side of his face and wished he could make this child forget.

- - -

It was in the late fall, over three years since the Zuko had been banished (and had promptly jumped overboard to remain in the Fire Nation) when Iroh got the letter.

‘Uncle,

‘I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but it was recently announced that the Avatar has returned. I would like to ask you if you would please go and train him. They are saying he’s around twelve years old and seems to be in the process of learning waterbending.

‘You’re the best firebender in the world, Uncle. You only visit me once every few months, and I’ve still made worlds more progress in the last three years alone than I ever did training back at home. Please, you’re the only one who can do this.

‘Your nephew.

‘Also, I practiced that lightning redirection thing that you showed me last time you were here during the storm last night. I’m grounded for another week, but I would like to let you know that I redirected it successfully. So, thank you for that valuable lesson.’

Iroh reread the letter a few times, wrote back a simple reply of ‘Of course,’ and had the ship set out to the nearest harbor to see if they could find anything about the Avatar’s whereabouts.

- - -

“If anything should happen... I need you to do something for me.”

“What is it, Iroh?”

“Send this letter to my nephew, along with the whereabouts of Aang and his friends at the time that you send it off.”

“Your nephew? The... Fire Lord’s son?”

“Yes. Aang must learn firebending, and I think everyone would rather it not be Jeong Jeong who teaches him...”

“Of course. Why would you think this would even be necessary, though?”

“I worry, sometimes. But I promise, on my honor as a Grand Master of the Order of the White Lotus, you can trust my nephew.”

“All right. If need be, I’ll see it delivered. I presume I would use your messenger hawk?”

“That would be wisest.”

“Of course.”

“...Thank you, Pakku.”

- - -

Iroh wasn’t quite sure how it happened.

Okay, well, he knew how it happened, it was just... hard to process.

It had been pure bad luck (or good luck, for the soldiers) when, on the first day of the Siege of the Northern Water Tribe, he had run into one of the largest groups of firebenders who, of course, immediately recognized him. He was sure there were wanted posters across the Fire Nation’s homeland and colonies with his face on it.

He could fend the troops off just fine, of course, and everything probably would have been all right if another Fire Nation soldier hadn’t managed to sneak up behind him and bonk him on the head.

The next thing he knew, he was waking up on a ship. In a prison cell.

And then there was Admiral Zhao. Agni, Iroh hated him.

“Ah, the great General Iroh, a traitor. I’m sure the Fire Lord will have a special place for you when you get back.”

Zhao had gone on to explain that Iroh was being shipped back to the Fire Nation immediately, on their fastest ship, to avoid any waterbenders or Avatars slipping in and breaking him out. The whole time, up until he left, Zhao had a sickly grin on his face, staring at Iroh as if he was the best prize he could have hoped for.

“Oh, well, maybe the Fire Lord will even give you a merciful death. You may see your nephew again sooner than you thought.”

Zhao let out a cruel laugh, and Iroh was thankful once again that he had sent in that report about six months ago claiming that Zuko had been lost to a hurricane that swept across the Earth Kingdom coast near where they were.

(The truth was, the storm was in the east, and their ship had been in the west, but the Fire Nation didn’t need to know that).

Regardless, Iroh was glad was Zhao was gone.

It gave him time to think.

Agni, he hoped Pakku remembered to send that letter.

- - -

It was the second-to-last day of winter when Zuko got the letter. The Players got two week-long breaks a year, and this was the evening before the first day of one of them. That was probably a good thing, he soon realized.

‘Nephew,

‘If you receive this letter, it means something has happened to me. Either I have been captured or killed during the Siege of the Northern Water Tribe, and a dear friend of mine has sent this letter to you in my stead.

‘You know I would not ask this of you if I did not think it was the only option. Unfortunately, here we are.

‘Nephew, you must join the Avatar and train him in my stead.

‘There are no other firebenders capable. I have traveled with the Avatar and his friends for months, and they know all about you. I am sure you will be good friends. Please, nephew. This is the only way to end the war. You know about the comet. You know that this is what must be done. This is your destiny.

‘You are one of the best firebenders I’ve ever seen. You’re incredibly talented, especially for your age, and you’ve even been blessed by the Masters. You are the only one who can do this. I believe in you.

‘Attached should be the whereabouts of the Avatar and his friends. You must meet up with them. None of this has been explained to them, but I’m sure if you just say I sent you, it will be fine.

‘Say hello to the Players for me.

‘Uncle.’

Zuko felt his heart sink as he read the note again and again.

Finally, he emerged from his room and walked to the living area, where the six Ember Island Players sat. Zuko took a deep breath and then spoke.

“I need to leave.”

Ami was the first one to speak. “What? Why?”

Zuko mouth felt dry and his heart pounded but he replied nonetheless. “My Uncle has been captured and taken into Fire Nation custody. I must now join the Avatar and train him in my Uncle’s stead. I need to leave for the Earth Kingdom by tomorrow.”

There was a glance that traveled among all the Players, and then Nori spoke.

“Well, you can count on us, kiddo. Family sticks together, before anything.”

Zuko grinned, though his eyes burned. “I probably won’t be back until the fall, at least. Please don’t mess up Love Amongst Dragons this year without me there to help.”

“No promises,” Satoshi replied.

Zuko must have been obviously holding back tears, because he soon found himself wrapped in a hug.

He never wanted to let go.

Still, the next day, he found himself on a boat (a fast one, he noted, though small) heading toward a Fire Nation outpost in the Earth Kingdom, the six Ember Island Players by his side. They might not be coming with him on the journey, but they were going to see him through to where it would begin, skipping out on their time to go home, and, to him, that meant more than anything else in the world right now.

So, Zuko, banished prince of the Fire Nation, nephew of Iroh, looked out at the endless horizon that they were speeding toward, and smiled.

#backstage au #ask #ask away #this is why i didnt post anything for like two days #because of this ask #this is gonna be part 2 on ao3 #also i know we didnt see the gaang at all #but you know #soon enough probably

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demonprosecutor · 4 years

Text

that sad belphie post i made a long time ago that @beelsbreakfast asked me to make a fic about

She dreams of that moment often, the bruises around her neck, the static creeping across her vision, and the laughter that rings mocking in her ears. She dreams of that darkness, dreams of the voice that never comes and dreams of being buried six feet under and dirt on her casket. Sometimes, she wakes up with Mammon curled up at her side, other times she doesn’t, and she’s left sitting up in the darkness of her room, sweat slicking her skin and blankets clutched to her chest as she tries not to cry (but fails, she always failed).

Mammon, Amihan knows, is concerned --- in that sweet, blustering way of his, his body curving towards her like the swaying of an ancient oak. But even he, the second-born, second-strongest, wouldn’t be able to protect her from the monsters of her own making. “Ya look like shit,” he says, a whisper that curls against her cheek, thumb brushing against the dark bags under her eyes.

Death, Amihan finds, changes people and the careless joy she had once felt had disappeared. This was another grave marked in the cemetery of her mind, hands aching with the effort to claw at the dirt. She smiles up at him, placing a hand on his chest, “not as shitty as you,” Amihan teases gently --- turning her head just enough to allow for his palm to cradle her cheek.

There’s heartbreak written all over his features, a brand of fury that comes being helpless. She can see his free hand flexing at his side, like he wanted nothing more than to whisk her into his room and never let her go. Protect her in the way he couldn’t when he held her dying body in his arms.

(sometimes, her nightmares consist of a door and the people that waited for her behind it. Was it right to stay?)

Mammon rolls his eyes, quirk of lip that reveals the glinting sharpness of his canine, the cockiness diminished with the cute blush that was always prevalent whenever they had moments like this – intimacy that rests quiet and sweet amid the chaos of the Devildom. In a better life, in a simpler one, she could fall in love with Mammon (like in the way she knew he loved her), but she couldn’t. Did she really deserve this devotion? “You—I just… You know I’ll always p-protect you.”

But was that the case? I died already once. But she keeps her thoughts to herself, running her hand down his arm and tangling their fingers together with a smile. “I know.” Amihan says soothingly, heart aching at the way he nods furiously, a puppy in his love and affection. But there are things you can’t protect me from. Monsters of my own making, monsters of my own making, monsters of my own making.

No matter how hard Belphegor tried, and he made valiant efforts, to his credit, but like an animal harmed --- Amihan equated him with pain and fear. They see it, as clear as day, the way her behavior shifts: eyes watchful like a hawk’s, body coiled tight with tension and voice that shook no matter how hard she tried to hold back that waver. It angered them, it infuriated them, it broke them. But as much as they loved her, they loved Belphegor just as much, so they were left to watch.

----

Lucifer watches her sometimes, the way she stands in front of a mirror, touching the ring of fading bruises around her neck, eyes rimmed red and angry before her fist lashes out and shatters the glass with a scream of rage that tapers off to sobbing. Blood smears on glass and he appears at her side, cradling her hand and chiding her gently, the soft croon of someone attempting to console a grieving person. You’re ok now, I promise. You think I would lie to you about that? You’re safe, you’re safe, you’re safe. The promise rest heavy in his heart, knows that heaven and earth and hell would tremble in wake of his ferocity if it meant that she wouldn’t be scared any longer.

---

Mammon watches her sometimes, the way her brow furrows in her sleep and fingers clinging to the sheets and sweat beading at her forehead. She always whispers something under her breath: I know who you are, Lilith come back. I know who you are. Before she whimpers, thrashing in the sheets (Mammon’s learned to not try and restrain her, she woke up in a panic attack that had the rest of his brothers crowding into his room, fire flickering in their eyes and the ozone of power clouding his room) before Amihan wakes up with an animal shriek --- hand flying to her throat.

She hates crying, he knows that, but there’s a sickly-satisfied part of himself that relishes in the knowledge of this rawness being for himself, pulling her into his arms and rocking them until the sobs subside to hiccups. “What was your dream this time?” Mammon would whisper into her hair, and she would shake her head. The dreams were her own burden to bear. “Ok, ok, ya silly human. Let’s go back t’sleep.” And he would pull them down to sleep, not sleeping until her breathing evens out.

---

Leviathan watches her sometimes, the way she zoned off during their anime marathons, the melancholy that droops her features and whenever she gets like that, Levi knows better than to try and coax her into conversation. Silence, he found, can just as be loud as noise and those times he had yelled at her to quiet down filled him with regret – anything, anything, is what he would do just to see a glimpse of her smile.

“I wish I could be better, but…” She looks at him, curious, eyes deader than dead and Levi shudders, his heart aching in a way that he’s never felt before. But what? What could you give her that could bring her back? “… I’m not good at this.” His face flushes, “Still… I just want you to be happy and I’ll do anything for you and---” His tangent is halted with her hand on his, the blush deepening at the small smile. He’s filled with something --- love and affection, Levi thinks wildly. And he pulls her close, arms around her body, small and lean. “If… if you want.. we can have a sl-sleepover. And we can talk and I can listen.” Because that’s the only thing he can do at this point.

---

Satan watches her sometimes, the way she no longer smiled at her books, never looked up with some hopeful quote laying sweet on her lips. Death changes people, he’s realized, witnessing it firsthand, she’s realized that she wasn’t infallible any longer. Even with their protection that Amihan can still get hurt – it was unfortunate that it was one of the brothers that had harmed her in the first place. Their shoulders press together, a line of heat that he can clearly feel, so distracting that he’s reread the same sentence for 10 minutes now, so embroiled in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice Amihan watching him until the soft rasp of paper turning ceased. “A penny for your thoughts?” He turns his head and watches as she waves her hand, a human penny appearing between her fingers, chuckling alongside her. It had taken her a while to get a hang of that trick.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you smile.” Satan curses himself at the way the tentative smile falls, her gaze averting to a distance that he cannot see. Sometimes, no matter how close she was, it felt like she was miles away.

She chuckles mirthlessly, flicking the coin in the air with a crisp ring before it lands in her palm. Tails. “I guess it’s been a while since I’ve been happy.” That hurts Satan for some reason because was he not enough to make her happy? However, he’s grown past that juvenile part of himself and halts his tongue. This wasn’t about him, but her. The sad woman holding a penny in her hands and the stars dying in her eyes.

“What can I do to help?”

Amihan doesn’t answer for some time before grabbing his hand and pressing a penny into his palm, her expression thoughtful. “Be there for me?” As if she ever needed to ask, as if there was any question. Satan must’ve nodded because the relief on her face was visible before she lays her head on his shoulder and they continue to read well into the night.

---

Asmodeus watches her sometimes, sitting on the steps and staring out in the eternal twilight of their night. It’s later than what he’s used to, especially considering that sleep deprivation was known to fuck up your skin, but it’s been hard to sleep nowadays, especially with the turmoil that links them both. “It’s a nice night.” He doesn’t move from his place at the doorframe, making sure that his presence was known. Startling Ami had stopped being funny after the first few times she had punched him, ruining his appearance (not that it wasn’t difficult to fix it, but the pretense was all the same). But he didn’t necessarily like the annoyance that seemed darken her features.

She doesn’t turn back to look at him, the only indication that she even was alive was the fact her shoulders lifted and dropped with each breath. “It is. The moon’s very big.” Asmo laughs at that, striding closer and dusting off the step before sitting next to her, allowing the scent of lavender and vanilla to permeate in the air --- normally so cloying and choking, but at that moment, reassured her beyond compare. Without much preamble, he wraps an arm around her shoulders and places his head on hers, cheek pillowed by her locks.

“It’s always big, love.” He squeezes her slightly and Ami’s half-expecting a lewd comment about how his dick is big too, but it doesn’t come and she appreciates the tact. Knows that Asmo knows when to tease and when not to. “Now, I prefer you with a smile on your lips. What’s wrong?” He croons this softly in her ear, more to relax than to entice, but it doesn’t work because he feels her shoulders tighten and then shake like a young earthquake. Her head is bowed and something in his chest squeezes in pain, vicelike grip making it hard for him to breath.

Without much thought, he kneels in front of her, tipping her chin up with a thumb and forefinger, distressed at the agony of Ami’s features – exhaustion evident. She hasn’t slept in so, so long. A ghoul that had stolen her skin. It’s not love he has, Asmo thinks in that introspective moment of his, but it’s close to it, it’s heading to it. He sweeps in, cupping her face and pressing their foreheads together, an action so intimate, an action so sweet that it terrifies him. “Stay with me.” Asmo whispers, their lips so close that he ached to kiss her. But in her grief, he couldn’t. “Not--- Not to have sex or whatever. Rest with me, I’ll hold you and let you rest and maybe we could…”

Grief, as a topic, unnerved him. Such a raw, ugly, visceral emotion that yanked out uncomfortable memories for him, reminded him of things he liked to forget. But the way Ami looked, like the sun choked by the clouds, perhaps, perhaps, he was willing to try. “--- we could do my skincare routine together, that never fails to lift my spirits, sweetheart.” He finishes lamely, pulling back with a rare blush, especially with the way she considered him. Asmo had his fair share of creating beauty eons ago, but she looked at him as though he hung the stars and moon themselves.

He stands up and holds out his hand, something in his chest fluttering when she takes it.

---

Beelzebub watches her sometimes, the way she punches the leather-bound punching bag, hard enough that her knuckles sting and blood wells into the grey of the hand-wraps. He knows a thing or two about trying to escape their inner demons and she, the fragile human, thinks that to escape is to fight it out – to completely exhaust herself until she’s nothing, but a shell of her former self. It hurts to watch her grief, hurts to know that his twin was the product of that hurt, is torn between loyalty to his twin and love for her.

The hits are jarring enough, inelegant enough that Beel knows that Ami is no longer practicing for the sake of practicing, but intending on feeling something other than the hurt that seeped itself into her bones, into all of their bones, because having pacts meant that they were connected to Amihan in ways that no one else could understand.

And he reaches out, gentle hands that curl over aching fists and he’s not surprised to see the tears in her eyes. Ami’s hands shake in his, violently enough that it takes a few seconds for her to stop, not meeting his watchful, quiet gaze, as he unwraps the bandages – clicking his tongue at the raw redness and blood smeared on her knuckles, dragging her over to the first aid kit and cleaning up the small wounds.

Even with his focus stolen by the methodical motions of cleaning her wounds and bandaging it up --- Beel frowns slightly at the way she stared at her hands. “It won’t help, Ami.” He says gently, tilting her chin up with two fingers, forcing her to meet his eyes, just to cement his words firmly into her mind. “Hurting yourself like this won’t help you feel any better.”

Still, still, she laughs bitterly and pulls her chin away from his grasp, hands curling into fists once again. It’s then, Beelzebub realizes, that he knows that she was the type to dwell on hurt, on mistakes, thinking about what could’ve done for this to never happen. “I know,” Ami says, exhausted suddenly. “I just wanted to feel something else.”

Beel has felt grief before and this, this, makes the familiar emotion well up and squeeze his chest and force him to pull her into a small hug. Arms around her and his body curving forward slightly, as if his presence could ward off all the nightmares.

It won’t help, but he could try.

---

Belphegor watches her sometimes, in the careful way she acts around him, that the moment he enters a room, she tenses up and any joviality that was present in her expression mutes itself into caution. His chest seizes every single fucking time because he can clearly remember the times where she never acted like that around him, where all the love and joy and affection flowed from her like an unending fountain.

He does not know love like her’s and he knows that there won’t ever be a sort of love like that ever again for him. It makes him ache to be aware of the fact that this reticence was a product of his own doing and nothing else.

His offers come frequently, stubbornly, even if she declined or if Ami did accept, she would always bring one of his brothers along as a safeguard. And Belphegor wants to shake her by the shoulders, to say: Can’t you see? I’m in love with you! I won’t hurt you anymore!

But in the time, the demon has known Ami, he knows that her deaths and his manipulations will hang above them both. That any happy ending that had been destined has been dashed away the moment he decided: ah yes, I will use her.

There’s a hunger for that love once again. How she bared her soul and heart for him without regard of herself, so naively trusting and sweet that it shook him to the core. But they know to never leave her alone with him for the one time he had cornered her in a room, she had a panic attack so intense that his brothers barged into the room, in their demon forms, frenzied by the idea of a threat harming their precious human. But upon finding Belphegor and Ami on the ground sobbing and curled into a ball, two and two were placed together. They never left her alone with him after that incident

“I love you.” He blurts this out, despite the fact that Mammon was there, despite the rage that rose forth on his older brother’s features to retort, but any venom was halted by Ami’s hand on his arm. Belphegor looks away, rubbing his arm, “I know I hurt you and I know you probably won’t forgive me. But I … After all this time, I love you and I was dumb for not realizing it earlier. Ami… please accept me.

She stares at him, but with a wistful look, smiling sadly. “…The shitty thing about this is that I was ready to forgive you, to throw myself at your feet for any sign of affection and love in return. And I do still love you.” There’s a hopeful expression on Belphie’s face, eyes bright, “but not in the way you want or think you want. You had your chance and you knew all the deep terrible things about me, but you still hurt me. What makes you any better than my parents? That you love me? Because they love me too.”

Ami pushes herself to her feet, and dusts her pants off, “Maybe one day I’ll forgive you, but not now.” She moves to the door, shoulders slumping slightly, Mammon wrapping an around her in reassurance. “this is the bed of your own making, Belphegor. Now lie in it.”

#obey me #aku writing #my writing #aku oc: amihan #whoa this turned out long #and the ending sucks dick because i got tired of it LOL #abuse tw

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dickwheelie · 5 years

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Day 29: Secret Admirer

For the @ineffable-valentines prompt list!

Boy oh boy. I cannot believe I was able to post a fic for this prompt list, on time, every day for an entire month. For me, that’s huge. I tend to be a slow writer and I rarely finish the stuff I start. Not every fic was amazing, or very long, but by gosh, I sure did finish them, and I had so much fun doing it! Huge thanks to @mielpetite for making this list and reblogging all the entries throughout the month, they’ve been amazing. Thank you also to all the lovely folks who commented/reblogged/liked my fics, you gave me the motivation to sit down every day and write something, even when I wasn’t feeling it. Much love to all y’all.

If you go to the #ineffablevalentines tag on tumblr, you’ll see the other entries, and if you go here on my blog you’ll see all of mine. Okay, enough chat, please enjoy my final fic of the month, wherein to no one’s surprise, there is more letter writing.

__________

To the proprietor of A.Z. Fell & Co Booksellers, Downtown Soho, in case there’s another one knocking about somewhere—

I saw you in the shop the other day and couldn’t help but stare. You were gently ushering someone out the door without a single book in their hands, and I couldn’t help but find your tenacity admirable. I myself was careful not to remove any item from the store when I left, but I’m afraid I may have left one behind. I was wondering if you might have seen it, so I can come back to fetch it. You see, it’s terribly important to me. It’s my heart.

Love,

Your Secret Admirer

Aziraphale chuckled through an unseemly blush as he refolded the letter and placed it on the top of the stack that had been slowly growing on his desk for the past month. Every day of that cold, miserable February, a letter had arrived at his doorstep, with no return address and no name of sender. They were—and there was no beating around the bush about it, really—love letters, very obviously meant for him, from an anonymous so-called secret admirer.

At first, Aziraphale had been rather confused, but had kept the letters anyway, intending to show them to Crowley and have a good laugh. However, as each day passed and each new letter arrived, Aziraphale found himself quite charmed by this secretive writer. Clearly, they were a regular customer of some kind to know Aziraphale so well. They made all the right jokes, said all the right things, made references to all the right literary figures; either they had discerned Aziraphale’s tastes with perfect accuracy, or they had much in common with him.

Some of the letters were extremely lengthy; others, like today’s, were only a short paragraph or two, recounting the admirer’s feelings for him. Some were maudlin and prose-laden; some were humorous and sweet; others still were almost salacious in tone, never saying anything too outlandish but bordering on the cusp of it, hinting at things and implying things that made Aziraphale blush absolutely scarlet. All of them were quite flattering, and left Aziraphale’s mood brighter for the rest of the day.

Aziraphale had been charmed by humans before, and even been romantically pursued by some of them, but never before had one so captivated him with the written word. (This, of course, did not include works of literature. That was a very different kind of captivation that involved less blushing.) He’d never had a secret admirer before. It was all very thrilling and romantic.

Not being able to write back was a bit frustrating, but Aziraphale supposed it was for the best. Though he was quite flattered, and had reread some of the letters more times than he’d like to admit, at the end of the day, his admirer was only a human who only knew him as a bookseller.

Besides, Aziraphale was already taken. Speaking of which, he ought to get himself ready to meet Crowley for dinner; their reservation was at eight.

I ought to tell him about the letters, he thought as he went about selecting a bowtie. Crowley ought to know, after all, that he had some competition. Aziraphale laughed aloud at the thought. After dinner, he decided, he’d bring Crowley back to the shop and show him the pile of letters.

And so he did. Aziraphale poured them both a glass of wine and brought Crowley into his study, presenting the pile of papers as though it were an ice sculpture.

“Terribly sorry I didn’t mention these to you earlier,” said Aziraphale cheerily. “I suppose I didn’t want you getting jealous that I had a secret admirer.”

“Jealous? Me?” said Crowley wryly. “Never.”

“Well?” said Aziraphale, when Crowley didn’t make a move towards the desk. “Go ahead, read some of them. You have my full permission.”

“Hmm. I dunno,” said Crowley, making himself comfortable on one of the armchairs on the opposite side of the room. “Seems like your private affair, to me.”

“Nonsense! Here, I’ll read one to you.” Aziraphale selected one at random from the middle of the pile, unfolded it and cleared his throat. “Oh, this is rather a good one.

“My dear bookseller—

“I’ve read every Wilde I can get my hands on, but apparently even your shop doesn’t hold the book which may contain a description vivid enough to capture you. In my experience, none do; not Whitman, not Keats, not Dickenson. The most complimentary of love poems do not contain a subject more appealing to me than you are. I’m afraid there may not be words in the English language or any other to describe your radiance. Compared to all the other authors and poets, who am I to attempt such a feat?

“I must try anyway. You, of all the beings of the Earth and Heaven above and Hell below, deserve to know your own wonder. Compared to you, my perspective is lowly, to be sure. Still, was it not Wilde who once said that we are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars?

“Endlessly Yours,

“Your Secret Admirer.”

Aziraphale had to pause to surreptitiously wipe at his eyes. That one had been particularly moving when he’d first read it. “Now, wasn’t that just lovely?” he said after a moment. “They know my tastes so well.”

Aziraphale glanced over at Crowley to see his reaction, but to his surprise, Crowley was smiling. A small, rather sweet smile, not at all jealous or mischievous. “Yeah,” Crowley said, “it was alright.” He put out his hand. “Can I have a look?”

Aziraphale handed him the letter and Crowley perused it, his expression much more pensive than Azirapahle would have expected. After a minute or two, Crowley said, “Yeah, not too bad, really. Not much I’d change, on this one. Just that the references to Heaven and Hell were probably a little too on the nose. And I’m pretty sure I used ‘complimentary’ incorrectly there.”

“Oh, really?” said Aziraphale, taking the letter as Crowley passed it back to him. He gave it another quick once-over. “No, I think ‘complimentary’ with an ‘i’ is correct. If it was an ‘e’ then it would be wrong, as in ‘complementary’—wait a moment.”

Aziraphale looked back up at Crowley so quickly he could have given himself whiplash. “You said I. ‘I used it incorrectly.’ Crowley. Did you—”

Crowley grinned, and crossed the room to press a kiss to Aziraphale’s brow. “Happy Valentine’s, Angel,” he said. “Well, happy February. The fourteenth went by and I had more I wanted to say, so I just sort of kept going.”

And suddenly, it all made sense. Who else, after all, could know Aziraphale so well? A human, with limited time on the planet, observing Aziraphale from afar, could never reach such an intimate understanding of him, and what he loved.

“Oh, my dear,” said Aziraphale. He glanced over at the pile. He was already planning a late night of reading through them all again, this time with the proper demon in mind. “Do I even have to say it?”

Crowley stuck his hands in his pockets and bobbed his head from side to side in a pantomime of thinking. “Well, considering it look me bloody ages to draft these all up, and write them by hand, and train the mice to deliver them, and stop myself from bragging about them to you every day for the last month—”

Aziraphale interrupted him with a kiss. “All right then,” he said, laughing. “Thank you, secret admirer.”

Crowley beamed. “Ah, it was no big deal, Angel.”

***

On February first of the following year, Crowley woke up to find an envelope sitting on his bedroom windowsill, outside his flat. It was addressed to “The handsome gentleman on the fifth floor,” and there was no return address. Inside was a letter, written on very old parchment and with very expensive ink, which read:

My dear,

Forgive me for my boldness, but I happened to see you in the Ritz the other day (you were with a rather good-looking gentleman in white, a very lucky man, if he had the privilege of being your dining companion), and you seemed to me to be the most dashing person in the room. Nay, in all of London. I found myself thinking about you for the rest of the evening, and I just had to draft up this letter to tell you exactly how lovely you looked that night. Though you wore dark glasses, I could occasionally catch a glimpse of your eyes behind them, and their beautiful golden color, and I found myself nearly speechless every time.

In all of creation, I have never found a being so wonderful to gaze upon. I imagine that if I were to, hypothetically, take the place of your ever-so-fortunate dining companion, and have a conversation and a drink with you, I would also never find someone so fascinating, so caring, so clever as you. I imagine if I were lucky enough to know you so well, your wit would be as dazzling as your eyes.

With the Greatest Affection,

Your Secret Admirer

Scrawled at the bottom of the page, in a much hastier hand, was a postscript. Crowley read it, cackled uproariously (which helped to hide his blushing), and went immediately to phone Aziraphale, intending to explain to him the point of having a secret admirer.

P.S.: Please do let me know if you received this! The doves are not very good with street directions, unfortunately. I am working on it with them. Much love! —A

Crowley also intended to tell him that he bloody well loved him, too.

#ineffablevalentines #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #gwyneth writes

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shadowsong26fic · 4 years

Text

Some Stuff

Not a proper Coming Attractions post, that’ll come out on the first Monday of the month as always, but...a more general update on some projects (and also possibly looking for input?)

Basically, I’ve accepted the inevitable, that I’ve fallen back into ATLA in a big way. I haven’t actually rewatched the series yet, because my roommate was doing so and I kept popping in and out and I didn’t want to confuse myself by trying to do a straight rewatch while she was doing hers, but I have reread a bunch of old fanfic/RP logs, and have some plots I kind of want to work with again? Either as fulltext or as an AU Outline. Behind the cut are some more details, as well as seeking Opinions on which, if any, I should actually work on.

I am also Determined to not fall out of SW as this is going on, lol. More details about that behind the cut, as well.

(Also, I’ve talked about some of the stuff listed here on my writing discord, which feel free to come stop by and hang out! It’s basically an extension of this tumblr, only a little more interactive. Find us here!)

Star Wars Stuff:

I plan to take next weekend to bang out at minimum the next Precipice chapter, and possibly the next two (though I’ll stagger posting if I do manage to get both done). And then try and give myself a more active schedule to get the next parts of the series out.

I’m also working on a dragonshifters AU, which I’m enjoying a lot. I think OFLAM may be relegated to the back burner for a while, though I’ll probably kick it up again if I end up doing it for SWBB next year (unless I tease out enough of a Plot for dragonshifters to do that instead, lol). I’ve talked about some of the worldbuilding on my writing discord, too.

I also still owe some meme responses from way back, which I do intend to get to at some point I promise <.<

And I haven’t forgotten some other extant projects--Devoted!verse, the Ventress outline, Bail Unfucks the Timeline, Distaff, etc.--but they’re pretty back-burnered for the time being. If something Sparks in any of those, I’ll probably dive into it, but for now I’m not actively working on them in the way I am on dragonshifters and Precipice.

AtLA Stuff:

So, there’s sort of...four or five projects spinning around in my head right now, lol. One of which, if I do it, would not work as an outline so it would be fulltext. It’s canon-compliant, for the most part.

...well, I should interrupt myself here to say the following: I haven’t read a lot of the comics or tie-in novels, and my familiarity with more recent Word of God is limited. I’m basically operating out of canon defined as “it’s in the original show or WoG I’m specifically aware of, drawing in stuff from other sources as it appeals to me but otherwise ignoring it.” Where WoG contradicts itself (i.e., the timeline for Lu Ten’s death),I go with whatever answer I prefer.

In terms of worldbuilding details added in Korra--ehhhhh, it’s sort of held a little higher than the comics, etc. (in that, if I remember it, unless it Josses something I really, really liked/was foundational to something I’m doing, I’ll probably include it); but most likely whatever I’m doing will go AU enough during the first series for a lot of the other detail work/character-specific stuff to not matter.

Anyway! Back to the fun stuff.

There’s one story I’m playing with that’s not going to work as an AU outline. Depending on exactly what I focus on, there’s a couple different fulltext fics buried in it, and I’m not sure which I’d work on (or if I’d braid the two of them together). Basically, it deals with the siege of Ba Sing Se and Lu Ten’s death, and some of the fallout from that, focusing on an OC of mine and her daughter. I found a short fic I wrote for a challenge back in the day that ties into this concept, which is at the very end of this post. If I work on this, I’d probably change the names of the two relevant OCs and possibly how she gets her memory back (it was written specifically for a “what happened in the rest of the world when Zhao captured Tui” challenge; guess how many of them were Hama-related), but. Anyway, building on either the Siege portion of the story (which has a lot of West Side Story on its soundtrack in my head lol), or focusing on what she does after she remembers him. Or both! Both is also good.

The rest of the options are mostly Zuko-centric canon-divergence fics.

First option, Airbender!Zuko. This occurs because The Spirits Said So; he’s gotten very good at fake firebending using airbending. Probably to the point where he’s so deep in denial that he can’t even see the pyramids anymore, to stretch that analogy to the breaking point, lol. Basically, not much changes until the north pole, but there’s some ways for it to go from there...

Second option, Avatar Zuko. This one has been floating around in my head more lately. Reading old RP logs, my partner and I played through a bunch of different variants on how this all worked, but the one in my head right now is basically--a few months before he’s banished, they’re at Ember Island or something and he’s out on the ocean/fishing or something. Sudden storm, he stops the boat from capsizing through panicked waterbending. No other witnesses, for whatever reason. He initially decides he imagined it, something else must have happened. Except then, when he’s in the palace infirmary after getting his face melted, he does it again. At that point, he basically decides that his options here are “get turned into a weapon and kill A Lot of people, or get disappeared into some dark hole somewhere where I can’t cause any problems.” Neither of those is particularly attractive, so he decides to run away. He doesn’t know what his long-term plan is at this moment--if he’ll use the comet to regain favor/save his nation based on the context he’s operating under right now, or do something else. But he has about three and a half years before then. He figures he’ll spend a year at the Western Air Temple, looking for texts/mosaics/something to get him at least vaguely airbending; then go to the North Pole to learn waterbending for a year, then spend a year in the Earth Kingdom to learn earthbending. Planning, for the last two, to present himself as mixed and while he has a lot of his Fire Nation father’s features, he inherited bending from his other parent (or grandparent, when he goes to the North Pole). For those of you familiar with my original fic, this will also include the first iteration of a prominent secondary character from Feredar/The Farglass Cycle. Mostly so Zuko has someone to talk to at the WAT XD.

Third and fourth options are a bit more nebulous, and both break off during the Ba Sing Se arc. First option, Zuko gets injured during the stampede when Aang moves the zoo (this will probably draw in at least one of my BSS OCs because I am pathologically incapable of not creating OCs, lol). Second option, Zuko leaves his mask behind in Lake Laogai, which means Aang will know he’s in the city. Not sure where either of those would go from that point but there’s some Significant Differences there, lol.

...anyway, that’s where things stand now. Which, if any, are y’all interested in seeing?

As promised, the clip from the Lu Ten story, originally written for a challenge back in...yeesh 2010 XD. Again, this is canon-compliant at least up until Iroh and Zuko arrive in BSS, and I’d possibly change the names and/or how she gets her memories back.

An Wei sat by the window, holding her little girl and watching the sky. Today had been one of Huai's bad days, so An Wei had her hand resting lightly on her daughter's neck, counting her heartbeats. The doctors had told her, back when Huai was a baby and they'd figured out what was wrong with her, to hope for seven years--but only to hope, not to count on them. So An Wei took special care to always, always watch. She never regretted her child, no. Occasionally, she wished she had never met Huai's father, but...well, she couldn't remember much about him, other than the kind golden eyes (false kindness?) that had taken her in so completely during the Siege. She didn't think about him very much. It was too painful--and dangerous. Above and beyond the dangers in thinking about the War That Was No War, her own father had... Well, he hadn't been pleased. She didn't remember the argument, but her uncle wouldn't have brought her to the Lower Ring midwife who had cared for her during her pregnancy if she hadn't needed to hide. Despite all of her vigilance, it was her own heart that skipped a beat when the moonlight filtering in through her window turned an eerie, dull red. She gasped and clutched her daughter a little tighter, praying that Huai would sleep until this went away, so it wouldn't frighten her. That is, assuming it would go away. She shivered and shifted Huai so the little girl was facing away from the window and watched in horror as the bloody moon failed to return to normal. "Please..." she whispered. "Please be normal when she wakes..." As if in response to her desperate pleading, the moon flared silver again after a half hour. But she barely had a moment to relax before it winked out completely. An Wei jumped and stifled a scream. "Don't be afraid of the dark, this'll light your way home." She jumped again. There was no one here in the room with her and Huai, but she could have sworn... The moon blinked back into existence and a pretty girl with long white hair rode in on one of its beams. An Wei stared up at her, still frightened, pulling her daughter away from the girl as best she could. The moon-girl bent down and kissed An Wei's forehead. "Remember now," she murmured, then faded out of sight. ** "Don't be afraid of the dark." He smiles and makes a little light in his palm, carefully transferring it to a bundle of sticks. "This will light your way home." ** She studies the hairpiece he wears in his topknot, turning it over and over in her hands. "There's something you should know about me, too. About my family." ** "We can make this work, Itsu." He's determined, hopeful, his golden eyes shining. "We'll talk to my father. He'll understand. We'll make it work. Meet me here, at the usual time." "I trust you." ** She waits and waits and waits, until long past dark, but he doesn't come. ** She hates speaking with her guardian, but she's scared and has nowhere else to go. "Please, help me," she finishes quietly. He nods. "I'll keep you safe, Highness. You and your child. I promise." ** The light spins around and around and around, and she forgets her name, forgets her lover, and in her place is An Wei, a young woman trained as a scribe, seduced by a nameless Fire soldier, rather than... ** Itsu let out a little sobbing breath. Huai shifted in her arms. "Mommy?" she whispered, still half-asleep. "It's okay, baby, everything's okay. Go back to sleep." "'Kay." Huai closed her golden eyes again and her breathing evened out as much as it ever did. Itsu held her daughter close. Twice over a princess, at the worst possible time, born with a broken heart. No wonder Long Feng hid us so deep.

[to clarify--Itsu is Kuei’s sister. I forget how I set the relative ages, but assuming, as seems to be the case in flashbacks, that Lu Ten is about 10 years older than Zuko, he’d be somewhere between twenty and twenty-two when he died, depending on which date you believe; Kuei is around the same age (possibly a year or two younger?) and Itsu within two years of them.]

#shadowsong26fic #shadowsong writes star wars #shadowsong writes atla #feedback greatly appreciated #miscellania

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frenchibi · 5 years

Text

[anon asked: “I’m not even in the fandom yet but I’ve seen art and they look cute, and I love your writing. So how about, One is planning a surprise of some sort for the other, and is trying to keep it a secret but is lowkey terrible. pick whoever you want for each role.” - I tried to reply and the ask got eaten, oof... anyway anon I hope you know I love you for this, thank you so, so much. Have a thing.]

~~~

Crowley is up to something.

Aziraphale knows this with some certainty. Now, obviously, as a literal demon and force of chaos he is, by definition, always up to something, but particularly in light of recent events he’s been way less conspicuous about it, until now. Less of that don’t look now but I might make you miss your bus and drop your favourite book in the rain kind of thing that was always palpable to Aziraphale, probably by virtue of his angelic senses, but also just by virtue of knowing Crowley quite well (despite denying it) and being able to recognize when the thing Crowley happened to be up to was particularly, well… dastardly.

Not that Crowley has ever done anything truly despicable. Not since- well, ever. The apple thing was arguably a catalyst for… well, everything, but Aziraphale can and will argue that free will and knowing the difference are not inherently good or bad things, in the long run. Really, they have Crowley to thank for humanity, don’t they?

The point, he argues with himself, pointedly ignoring the clattering from behind the next few shelves as he delicately turns a page of the book in his lap, is that for the first time since well before the Apocalypse that Wasn’t, Crowley is up to something in that old, traditional sense of the phrase. Concocting some sort of plan. And trying very, very hard to pretend that he isn’t.

It’s incredibly ridiculous, really, because Aziraphale had expected Crowley to be aware of the fact that he can sense the slightest change in the demon’s attitude, and that even the idea of making any kind of mischief would not pass without his knowledge. As an angel (and, again, a Crowley-connoisseur), Aziraphale is incredibly aware of these shifts and he hasn’t exactly been hiding it. Careful to always shoot Crowley a look if he happened to be around when one of them took place, when a hint of oh, I could mildly inconvenience SO many people with this even crossed the demon’s mind. Careful to always look appropriately scandalized, even if in some instances, not-quite-deeply-enough under the surface, he might have enjoyed witnessing some of the subtle discomfort Crowley is prone to causing. Especially to people, who, well. Might kind of be pricks, no offense.

Well, maybe some offense. The lines are blurry, and honestly, after everything that’s happened, Heaven and its morality can bugger off.

Which doesn’t change the fact that Aziraphale is quite unsettled by this whole up to something business. He knows Crowley is no longer really involved with hell, so there is no conceivable reason he should be doing something truly worrying, something questionable, except for his own enjoyment – and that idea doesn’t sit quite well with Aziraphale. Sure, Crowley has always been wily, but in a charming way, in an I can’t even help it, angel kind of way, but not for the particular enjoyment of making other people’s lives miserable. Slightly unpleasant, maybe.

If that’s the only goal, he might just be succeeding.

Aziraphale rereads the same sentence for the third time before closing his eyes and sighing. It’s no use.

“Crowley,” he says, with the air of a parent to a two-year-old, gently reprimanding their toddler for the fifth time for trying to eat play-doh.

There’s a particularly loud clattering sound that can only mean something falling, followed by some scrambling, and then the demon’s slightly flushed face pokes around the edge of the nearest bookshelf.

“D’you say something, angel?”

“…what on earth are you doing back there?” He fights to keep his voice neutral – Crowley knows how he feels about his collection, and how upset he’d be if any of his priceless volumes were damaged. He doesn’t need to say it again.

“Uh,” Crowley says, eloquently.

Aziraphale raises his eyebrows, and lowers his book. “I do hope you’re not breaking anything-”

“Oh, no, not to worry, angel, not to worry-”

“…because it sounds like you’re making quite the mess of my shop. What are you up to?”

Crowley grins a grin that Aziraphale could only describe as sheepish, and it feels incredibly out of place on his face.

“…would you believe me if I said ‘nothing’, angel?”

Aziraphale’s eyes narrow. “Certainly not, with the racket you’re causing.”

Crowley takes a small step out from behind the shelf, rubbing the back of his neck as he does so, and looking quite bashful now. “…and if I asked you to bear with it for a bit, and to trust me…?”

Well. That’s new.

“You’re not playing one of these practical jokes on me, are you, Crowley? Because I’ll have you know I do not take kindly to people messing with my things-”

Even before the sentence fully leaves his mouth, he knows it was the wrong thing to say. Something like vulnerability flashes across Crowley’s face – he’s quick to cover it up with a sway of his hips and a lazy smile, but Aziraphale catches it nonetheless, and bites his tongue.

“Right, yeah. I’ll keep that in mind. Don’t let me distract you from your reading – I’ll keep it down.”

“Keep what down-”

“Nothing, angel, nothing at all.”

He makes to move away, and Aziraphale, though reluctant, begins to rise from his chair.

“Crowley-”

It happens so fast, all he feels is the rush of air and then Crowley is right beside him, pushing him back down into the chair by the shoulders.

“Ah- see, I’m gonna need you to not… leave this chair for a bit.”

“Wh-”

“I know it’s outlandish to trust a demon, but maybe this once you can give me the benefit of the doubt? Maybe believe that there is absolutely nothing going on behind these shelves – you never bloody leave the room, so there wasn’t really a way around this-”

“But-”

“Christ’s sake, angel, just- read your bloody book and let me do this!”

He gets loud there, towards the end, and Aziraphale flinches, ever so slightly. Crowley visibly softens; a hint of regret, perhaps something like shame.

“Look- you’re… you’re really hard to surprise, but I’m trying.”

Even as he says it, Aziraphale realizes his mistake. What he’d taken for malice, for an aura of mischief, of plotting – it falls away like the obvious cover that it always was (and how could it have been anything else), leaving behind only what’s genuinely emanating from Crowley now, clearly palpable to Aziraphale’s angelic senses: apprehension, a flutter of nerves, a spring coiled tight in anticipation. Something like excitement, hiding a tiny twinge of fear, and a large dollop of hope to top it all off.

Oh.

“…oh,” Aziraphale says softly.

There’s something else, too, underneath it all, and he catches it before Crowley can cover it up. It’s hurt.

Aziraphale closes his book, raises his hands to place them over Crowley’s.

“I’m so sorry, dear. I- I shouldn’t have mistrusted you.”

Crowley gives that self-deprecating half-shrug that Aziraphale is way too used to seeing. “S’alright, angel. ‘m a demon, after all. No good for trusting, all that jazz.”

He shakes his head. “I trust you more than anyone else in this universe, Crowley.”

“…unless you think I’m messing with your books,” Crowley amends, but he’s smiling, and it feels a little more genuine. Aziraphale knows he can’t undo the damage he’s just done by way of a simple apology. He should have known to give Crowley the benefit of the doubt – he should have known to do that for centuries, now. Maybe always.

“No modifiers,” he says. “Not… not unless. I do, in everything. With my life.”

Anything else is unacceptable by now. They’ve saved each other’s lives countless times.

“Don’t get all mushy on me,” Crowley says with feigned distaste. “S’not that big a deal. Wanted you thinking I was up to something, after all. To hide the surprise. Guess it was a little too effective.”

Aziraphale smiles. “Perhaps a tad.”

“…so, would you… just give me another couple of minutes? So I can finish up?”

His smile widens, and he returns his hands to the book in his lap. “I have no idea whatsoever what you might be referring to. I’m just reading, is all.”

Crowley lingers, just long enough for Aziraphale to get caught in the incredibly fond expression on his face.

“…thanks, angel.”

Then he gives his shoulders a short squeeze and pushes away, back around the nearest shelf and out of sight.

~~~

[ao3 link in replies, as always reblogs give me life & I read y’all’s tags & cry]

I know this ending is a cop-out - I wasn’t sure what I wanted the surprise to be! Any ideas? Suggestions? Requests? ((Requests are open!!))

#ineffable husbands #good omens #good omens fanfic #ineffable husbands fanfic #ineffable husbands fanfiction #good omens fanfiction #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale fanfiction #my writing

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