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akaraboonline · 1 year

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Empowering Your Mindset: 10 Confidence Quotes for a Successful Life

As a seasoned life coach, I have witnessed directly how a positive outlook can shift the course of a person's quest for success in both their personal and professional lives. We are more inclined to take chances, go after our aspirations, and ultimately succeed when we trust in our abilities and selves. I'll share 10 quotes on confidence with you in this article that can help you develop a more upbeat and empowering mindset.

The Importance of Having a Confident Mindset

Let's first talk about the significance of having a confident mindset before getting into the quotes. When we lack confidence, we could be reluctant to participate in meetings or seize chances that might help us grow and advance. Negative self-talk is another trap we could fall into, and this can further damage our self-esteem. On the other side, when we are confident in ourselves, we are more likely to take calculated chances and work arduously and tenaciously to achieve our objectives. Because we have faith in our abilities to overcome obstacles and grow from failure, we are also better able to endure failure and setbacks.

The Power of Self-Talk and Positive Affirmations

The power of self-talk and encouraging statements is one approach to develop a confident mindset. It's vital to be aware of the signals we are sending to ourselves since our ideas have a strong influence on our emotions and behavior. If we tell ourselves things like "I am not good enough" or "I will never succeed," for instance, we are reinforcing unfavorable thoughts that may prevent us from attaining our objectives. Instead, by using affirmations like "I am capable and deserving of success" or "I have the skills and knowledge to achieve my goals," we may provide the groundwork for confidence and self-esteem.

Top 10 Confidence Quotes for a Successful Life

Now, let's dive into the top 10 confidence quotes that can help you cultivate a more positive and empowering mindset: - "Believe in yourself and all that you are. Know that there is something inside you that is greater than any obstacle." - Christian D. Larson

Empowering Your Mindset: 10 Confidence Quotes for a Successful Life The quote serves as a reminder that each of us possesses greatness within, and that we shouldn't ever let outside difficulties or problems stop us from achieving our goals. - "Your time is limited, don't waste it living someone else's life." - Steve Jobs

This phrase serves as a gentle reminder to not let others' expectations or opinions get in the way of who we are and what we are passionate about. - "The only way to do great work is to love what you do." - Steve Jobs

Empowering Your Mindset: 10 Confidence Quotes for a Successful Life The quote underlines how important it is to enjoy and feel fulfilled at work because doing so can increase our motivation and desire for achievement. - "Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts." - Winston Churchill

The quote serves as a helpful reminder that the road to success is paved with failures and disappointments, and that it requires guts and resiliency to keep going. - "You miss 100% of the shots you don't take." - Wayne Gretzky

Empowering Your Mindset: 10 Confidence Quotes for a Successful Life Instead of playing things safe and passing up chances for development and achievement, this phrase exhorts us to take calculated risks and pursue our objectives with confidence and audacity. - "The only person you are destined to become is the person you decide to be." - Ralph Waldo Emerson

The quote above emphasizes the influence of our own choices and decisions in determining how successful we will be in the future. - "Success is liking yourself, liking what you do, and liking how you do it." - Maya Angelou

In order to experience genuine success and fulfillment, this quotation underlines the value of self-love and sincerity. - "It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop." - Confucius

The quote serves as a helpful reminder that even though our progress may seem slow at times, as long as we keep going, we will eventually get where we're going. - "You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream." - C.S. Lewis

This saying encourages us to pursue our goals no matter how old we are or how many obstacles we have encountered in the past. - "Believe you can and you're halfway there." - Theodore Roosevelt

The quote above emphasizes the importance of faith and self-assurance in reaching our potential and attaining our goals.

Understanding the Meaning Behind Each Quote

These sayings may appear straightforward at first glance, yet they each have a profound message that can encourage us to adopt a more upbeat and confident attitude. For instance, the saying "Your time is limited, don't waste it living someone else's life" serves as a reminder that we only have a limited amount of time to live in this world and that we should make the most of it by pursuing our interests and leading authentic lives. Similar to this, the adage "The only way to do great work is to love what you do" emphasizes the significance of finding fulfillment and joy in our job, which can inspire us to work harder and achieve more.

How to Apply These Quotes to Your Daily Life

So how can you apply these quotes to your daily life? Here are some tips: Write down your favorite quotes and keep them in a place where you will see them often, such as on your desk or in your planner. Practice positive self-talk and affirmations based on the messages in these quotes. Reflect on how the messages in these quotes apply to your own life and goals, and use them as motivation to keep pushing forward. Share these quotes with others who may benefit from a confidence boost.

Additional Resources for Building Self-Confidence

In addition to these quotes, there are many other resources available for building self-confidence. Here are a few to check out: - Self-help books and podcasts - Professional coaching or therapy - Online courses or workshops Peer support groups or accountability partners

The Connection Between Confidence and Success

As I previously stated, success frequently depends on having a positive outlook. We are more inclined to take chances, work toward our objectives, and eventually get the outcomes we want when we have confidence in our abilities and selves. There are countless examples in real life of people using confidence to accomplish their goals, from business owners who have developed prosperous companies to athletes who have defied all odds to win championships.

Overcoming Self-Doubt and Fears

Naturally, gaining confidence is not always simple. Along the road, we could experience self-doubt, dread, and uncertainty. However, we may progressively increase our confidence and get through these challenges by engaging in positive self-talk, surrounding ourselves with encouraging people, and making little progress towards our objectives.

Conclusion with a Call to Action for Readers to Start Building Their Confidence Today

Finally, developing a confident mindset is crucial for being successful in all aspect of life. We can develop the self-assurance we require to succeed by engaging in constructive self-talk, taking action toward our goals, and thinking about motivational quotes like the ones included in this article. I urge you to start boosting your self-assurance right away and never lose up on your goals. Read the full article

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the-mighty-het-speaks · 2 years

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August 3rd, 1963 // Downey, California, USA

#oh big man…….. happy birthday babe. what a year. a fucking comeback of a year.#in full force you and your band. your dream. your love. was reinvigorated to not only yourselves but the world #it has made me so proud to call you my own because of the impact you’ve made and how many hearts you’ve touched. what an honor #40 years. deep cuts. smiles. tackles. tears. new horizons. what an excellent time to be part of this journey.#and of course you. so strong and confident and trusting in your quest. i can tell that you’re right where you need to be.#i love you and cannot wait to live the dream alongside you. soon i hope. very soon.#happy birthday <3 #james hetfield #21 #22 #metallica #birthday tag

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roger-that-cap · 4 years

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meet me in the gardens

summary: being the widow of a decently wealthy lord and sitting on a large plot of land automatically meant that you were a candidate for the program that you couldn’t say not to; the hosting. you had to sponsor a knight and keep them in your home for an entire year, which was troublesome enough on its own. but you never expected your knight to be a woman, and you certainly didn’t expect to have a full on illegal love affair with her, either.

warnings: i pulled this shit out through writer’s block, yeah that says enough, cursing

word count: 3.1k

this is part three!

Natasha Romanoff was more than pretty, and everyone that didn’t already have that figured out was starting to realize it. By the time her second week ended, you had seen her actually use her sword only once, but you only needed to see it one time to know that she was skilled with it. Unfortunately, the butcher didn’t get the chance to see her work with a weapon until he got too close to her and she showed him up close.

That gave you a laugh.

She was insanely strong, quicker than you could see sometimes, and as sharp as a whip. She was more impressive than you could have ever imagined, and she demonstrated it nearly every time you watched her without even trying. Even when she was doing simple things, you couldn’t seem to take your eyes from her. From the way that she held her utensils to the way that she was careful not to step on your flowers when she went past your garden, nearly everything she did made your stomach flutter with an emotion you had never felt before, and you couldn’t decide if you liked it or were annoyed by it.

You would never forget the feeling that settled in your stomach when you saw her from atop one of your horses, and you realized that somehow, she was even more beautiful when you looked down at her from just a slightly higher angle. She was still smiling from the rush of a practice fight with a skilled swordsman that was just passing through, and though she had to put in little effort, she won. You had witnessed the last half of it yourself after you rode back in.

You had watched her begin to stalk off with that same stunning look of soft pride on her face and your heart stopped when she turned on her heel and headed straight for you, practically high off of the fight. Your brain scrambled for words in that moment, and all you could think of to say before your time was up was “you won”, but she beat you to your humiliation. “You ride with two legs over?”

Your brows furrowed at her and her question until she gestured towards your horse with a slightly red hand, like it had been hit one time too many with the wooden sword. “What do you suggest I do?”

“Most ladies…” Before she could finish her sentence, she trailed off, like she had just remembered the way that your first talk about how women should and should not be. Her look of triumph had faded into a slightly hesitant one, and then you gestured for her to go on without caution. When she took too long, you sighed.

“You mean the way most ride with both legs on one side?” You drawled, and she nodded wordlessly. You thought that the rule was idiotic, yourself. Men, because they had pants, were supposed to ride with one leg on each side of the horse. It was seen as disgraceful and quite the opposite of modest for a woman to ride that same way, regardless of riding pants. “I think that’s idiotic. I could fall off much easier that way.”

“Wouldn’t want you to fall,” she said, and it could have been the way that the sun was shining at that moment, but you could have sworn that she was close to smiling at you.

“I wouldn’t particularly want to be mistaken as a man, either.”

“I think that I can confidently say that no one is ever going to mistake you for a man, My Lady.”

Dinner was fine meat and heaping piles of starches, and Natasha was in Pietro’s old spot. He was used to it by now, and instead of being upset about it, all he would do was laugh a bit and whisper something to Wanda that you could never quite catch.

“I hope you’re enjoying your time here,” you told the knight, who looked up from her plate of food. “How has your search been?”

You saw her frown a bit. “I haven’t found anything that strikes me quite yet.”

You almost cringed at that, because a voice deep in the back of your own mind was telling you that you had certainly found something that struck you. “Is the setting uninspiring?”

“No, not at all,” she said slowly, like she wasn’t even afraid of offending you. And she wasn’t, because she knew that you wouldn’t have been offended. “It’s just… I’m nearly there. Just not quite.”

“You still have months,” Wanda reassured her quietly, working on her turkey leg. “I’m sure you’ll succeed in your knightly quest by then.”

“I think so,” Natasha said, and you nodded at her encouragingly.

The rest of the dinner went swimmingly. There was little chatter here and there, and most of the talking came from Pietro, his jokes back to back and then he would be dormant for minutes at a time until he had cooked something else up for the group. There wasn’t the air of hostility that had slowly but surely been dissipating with each day that Natasha had been there. Finally, the thick tension stopped rolling out like it was being produced in a factory, and then, the four of you were just there. Just four people eating a nice meal together, with no setbacks.

Of course, that didn’t last long.

§§

You always bathed alone. To people who had been born wealthy, having staff- they would be inclined to call them servants- bathe you meant that you were important enough to be tended to. It gave people thoughts of importance, and it made them believe even more than they already did in the superiority that mattered very little after death. A man or woman who could not get their servants to wash them is no lord or lady, they said. But you liked to wash yourself. It was the few and final shreds of dignity that you had after your husband and the impossible year that you spent with him, and even though he was gone, you surely weren’t going to stop washing your own body. Not when you could hardly ever do it back on the farm. Not when you had two working hands just like anyone else.

However, there was one thing that you could never do by yourself, and that was putting on your corset, and then wiggling into the dress. Wanda volunteered for it once after telling you the significance of a lady helping another into her clothing,, and when she realized how utterly helpless you were, she offered to help you do it every day. You accepted the offer after trying to do it on your own again the next morning.

You had never known that there was a designated corset assistant for a lady. You knew that there were typically a few women that a lady had on hand, and you had started off with a few before you realized that you really only needed Wanda. But the woman that helped a lady into her corset was seen as the woman’s most trusted confidant and the closest friend that the lady had, and when you let Wanda dress you for the fifth time, you realized that it was true.

And there she was then, waiting right by your door to dress you for the thousandth time with her eyes aerated as you dried off, sighing and groaning at the way that you could already feel the corset trying to strangle your insides. You grimaced at the object while you held it up, looking at it strangely like you did every time you laid your eyes on one without fail, and you didn’t even have to say a word before she was crossing the room and helping you step in it. While she was tying you up, you did your hair for the day. Every now and then, your eyes would meet in the vanity and she would silently ask you whether or not she was tying it too tight. She never did. You gave her a kind smile once she stepped back after finishing with the first layer of your dress, and then there was a quick succession of knocks on the grand door of your bedroom.

You and Wanda shared a confused look. When there was another round of anxious knocks, you threw your nightgown over your shoulders, your heart rate starting to pick up. “Come in,” you answered, brows furrowed at the thought of something being so important for someone to interrupt your alone time. That hardly ever happened. A man with brown hair walked in, legs taking hesitant strides until he got to Wanda, who stepped in front of him before he could quite reach you. He was holding out a sleek, black box. Wanda took it from him and then handed it to you, and you thanked him softly and took it, and then opened it to see a letter and the seal that you would never forget.

Your heart stopped for a second.

Forgetting that you weren’t alone and that you were nearly indecent, you ripped the letter open with a huff and started to read it, and when you did, you nearly dropped it to the floor.

My Dearest Lady of Riverstone,

I have been trying to reach you with word of my intentions for quite some time, and have not been receiving any answers. Luckily for you and for our imminent future, I won’t need an answer. My question has already been given a positive response by the High Priest himself. I have asked for your hand in marriage, and now, after all of my waiting, I shall receive it. By the end of three cycles of the moon, you and I shall have met and married. I look forward to meeting my wife, and the soon to be Lady Rumlow.

The room was utterly silent. Even though you hadn't uttered a word aloud, Wanda and the brunet man who was frozen by the blank look on your face knew that whatever it was, was horrible. You had read it twice before a minute passed, and you almost had it memorized, but you couldn’t stop looking at it like it was growing dandelions straight from the paper. You took in a deep breath, exhaled, heard Wanda’s soothing voice from under a thousand layers of ocean, and then read it again just to make sure that it was right.

Of course it was.

The High Priest allowed Brock Rumlow’s “claim” for your hand. He overrode your obvious refusals with the power of the highest man of the land besides the king himself. If what he said was true, then you weren’t getting out of the marriage. There was no way you would.

A sob escaped your lips, and before you could put your head in your hands, Wanda was right by your side, disregarding the contents of the letter without even reading them to comfort you. The young man ran off at the first sight of your teary eyes out of respect for his lady, and he quietly shut the door after himself.

You were too busy catching your breath to hear the noises you were making. If you knew that the miserable sounds were coming from your mouth, you would have stopped them if you could. You sounded like a woman being drained of the very little she had left, and Wanda held you through it all. Your hands were shaking and the letter was crumbling in your fist, and you held it tight to your chest, subconsciously hoping that if no one else read it, that it made the contents of it completely untrue.

“I don’t want to.” You were only able to say it clearly one time, and then you were shaking your head and blubbering to yourself over and over again, the same few words spewing from your mouth like they were the only ones you had ever learned.

You didn't know how Wanda knew what happened, but she did. “I know, I know.”

You didn’t know how he got away with it, and yet, you did. Anything with the High Priest’s signature was practically law, and a man like Rumlow wasn’t going to back down if he had gone to such lengths to obtain a right to marriage. Three months. You had three months. And that was generous.

“How am I… how?” You whispered, drying your face even though you knew that your tears were about to come back at full force. “I can’t. I can’t do it.”

“You won’t have to,” Wanda insisted strongly, her accent getting thicker with the emotion that she was putting out. The twins never told you where exactly they were from, but you knew that it was far away. Maybe even from across the sea, but that had nothing to do with you. “We will find a way to fix this, do you hear me?”

There was absolutely no way to fix it, and both you and Wanda knew it, no matter how stubborn she was deciding to be. You were going to be married to a man that you had never even seen before, and everyone was supposed to be fine with it. You were not.

§§

The second that Wanda left you alone, probably to conspire with her brother, you ran out of your room. You made a beeline out of the side door and nearly stumbled over an overgrown branch, but you caught yourself and kept pushing, walking quickly and missing all of the flowers that you typically stopped to look at and care for. Tears were in your eyes as you trailblazer through your safe space, destroying it with negative emotions and thoughts.

The second that you got to the rose bushes, you fell flat on your butt and put your face in your hands knowing that you were far away enough from everyone for them to not hear your cries. Even if they did, you were at the point where you didn’t have it in you to care. You were being given away against your own will to a power hungry man, who would probably make you leave this place and have you carted off to his own keep. Something told you that Rumlow was worse than your late husband could have ever been, and that said something.

“Are you hurt?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin at hearing a voice so close to you. When you realized that it was Natasha, looking at you with more than mild curiosity, you inwardly groaned. “I’m fine.”

“What’s got you worked up?” When you didn’t answer immediately, she cleared her throat, obviously uncomfortable with how distraught you looked. “Was the bathwater not warm enough for you, my lady?”

Your tears stopped for a moment and you started laughing, putting a hand over your chest as you leaned back a bit. “If only bathwater was the height of my problems.”

“Is it political?”

“It might as well be.” It was.

You were both silent for a moment, and then, she sighed. “You’re getting married, aren’t you?”

Immediately, the air was yanked from your lungs, and you nearly broke your neck trying to look over at her. “How?”

“I know that look in your eyes,” she said softly, and you could have sworn that it was the softest tone she had ever taken with you. “It’s the look of someone being backed into a wall. You’re getting married to a man you don’t know, aren’t you?”

“Damn you knights and your observations,” you snarled, but your heart wasn’t in it and you both knew it. “I would rather die than marry this man.”

She had a confused expression on your face, like she thought you were acting irrationally. “Why are you worried about it, then? If you send a refusal fast enough-”

“He’s been chasing me ever since my husband died, and now he’s got the approval of the Church.” You saw her eyes widen. “There’s no way to stop this now.”

“Oh,” she breathed out, and then she looked away. “I’m sorry.”

“He’s going to kill me.” You said aloud, and before she could tell you that you were being irrational, you kept going. “He’s had two wives, and one has never been seen again. The other was found with stab wounds in a forest, not even buried. He did it, I know he did. He’s an evil man-”

“Brock Rumlow?” Natasha asked, connecting the dots. Everyone knew about Rumlow and his wives. He was nothing short of a horror story. “Oh, fuck.” You didn’t even flinch at the language.

“He’s vile. I won’t live longer than a year-”

“Not if I can help it.”

You turned to look at her again, the smile on your face slightly condescending as you tried to gather yourself again. “What can you do? What can anyone actually do?”

“I’m here for a year,” she stated, and you nodded, an exasperated look on your face. “If you’re truly worried about him attempting on your life, I can be your guard for as long as I’m here.” She saw you open your mouth. “And before you ask what good that will do you, I can teach you, too.”

“Teach me to, what?”

“How to not get killed,” she said gruffly, and you frowned. “Defense.”

You looked at her for a long moment. “You’re not serious.”

“As serious as a murder.” She took a step closer to you. “I know that beneath all this anger, you’re really just scared. And upset. You don’t want to talk about it, I know that, but you should. It’s not good to bottle things up and wait for them to explode, trust me.”

You scoffed. “If I try to talk to someone, they will send me off and say I have some form of hysteria.”

“I won’t,” she said firmly, and you felt your heart beat nearly out of your chest. “You could spill your life to me for the next year, and then I’ll be gone. I’ll be like a journal you can trash. I wouldn’t tell a soul what we talk about, if you want to talk. And you could be the same for me. If you don’t want to learn to fight, you can at least speak.”

You considered it for a moment. “And then what?”

“After the year, we part ways.”

“What would you talk to me about?” The second question was so implied that you both heard it; we have nothing in common.

“Whatever comes up. We’ll just listen to each other, because god knows this kingdom hardly listens to women.” You gave her a long look in the silence, watching the way she watched you in return, and finally, she cleared her throat. “Do you accept?”

“No one can know,” you said quietly, and despite your lack of reasoning, she nodded. You both knew why. She took a step forward with an outstretched hand and you stared at it in the same way you did the first time she did it, but you took it quicker this time around.

“Every other night, I’ll meet with you..”

“Where, in the gardens?”

Her low laughter complimented the mood that set across you both. “Where else would we meet?”

****

here it is! the third part (that i am very nervous/not very pleased about)! comments and feedback are thoroughly appreciated! i’ve been really stressed out with work and school work lately and have not that much time to myself without staying up hella late, so i’m sorry if this = donkey’s ass. thank you guys for reading this 🥺

if you like the series so far, please remember to reblog! reblogging means so much to the people who do work of any kind up here. (omg not me begging for a reblog LMAO)

tags (you can ask to be removed or placed at any time!): @teenwonder @procrastinatingsapphictrash @fayhar @8plasma @slut-for-nat @dontmindmejustreading @swords-are-cool @200605chaeng @thescottishavenger @antidaytime @jenny-song @madamevirgo @natasha-danvers @drdarcy-lewis @blackxwidowsxwife

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #lgbt marvel #marvel fanfiction #my fics #natasha romanov x reader #natasha x female reader

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sparklingchan · 3 years

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Chapter 4|| Stormbringer- Stray Kids Demigod AU

Pairing : Reader(fem.) X Felix

Word count : 1.9k+

Warnings : Fight scenes, injuries but nothing too intense.

Genre : Romance, Demigod AU, fluff, angst.

Description: The day of the Capture the flag game arrives and there’s no denying that you and Felix make a wonderful team. Somewhere in the back of your head, you make a quiet note to have him by your side even when the real quests start.

A/N : Y’all I’m so bad at writing action scenes XDD I swear I’m trying to get better at it.

Enjoy!

SERIES MASTERLIST || Click here for introduction to the story and glossary and here for the Stray Kids demigod diaries!

Game mornings have always been your favorite.

Leaving out having to wake up early, you love everything else about game mornings; the little cheer song Apollo kids go about singing, the freshly cut fruits at breakfast which are otherwise a rare sight, camp students being all nice to each other which again is kind of rare, all the Satyrs moving here and there with banners and swords and arrows. The camp feels livelier than ever.

And to Felix, this sight is a complete different world. Almost like a pleasant dream.

Felix watches all the excited kids move around the camp, the jumping Satyr, the hearty breakfast and a new, foreign glow on your face as you sit across from him, explaining the game to him once again.

"Weren't you paying attention the first time?" You deadpan when he asks you to repeat, your front teeth nibbling against your lower lip in annoyance.

Felix smiles sheepishly and tilts his head with a shrug of his shoulders, as if to say 'Not really.'

You end up explaining it to him again because who could ever say no to that smile.

"So Capture the flag game is played in different ways by different Camps all around the world. As for Camp Levanter, we have a special set of rules that are to be followed."

"We're divided into two groups, which are further divided into smaller sub groups. Each group only has one purpose - to capture the flag that has been hidden at the Athena temple on the hill behind our camp. We can use dummy weapons to stop our opponents from getting to the flag first but we're not allowed to fatally hurt anyone or use our powers. Whoever gets to the flag first, wins. Do you understand now?"

Felix nods with a tense smile.

"I'm nervous, y/n." He later goes on to admit as Minho and Eden declare the beginning of the games and call over the participants near the starting line. You glance at him and he is fidgety, like a middle schooler going to his first date. He wears a loose black t-shirt with a pair of extra baggy pants and his fingers play with the blonde strands of his hair.

When he catches your gaze, he smiles ever so sweetly.

You look away.

You feel the adrenaline course through your own veins as you gently pat his shoulder, "We're gonna win this. Trust me."

The other participants soon gather at the starting line, the competitiveness very much distinct in their sharp glances and quiet snickers, a contrast to how it were this morning. You'd never been one to be nervous before and today, you feel more confident than you've ever felt before. You wonder if the boy standing beside you, with his fingers tight around the sharp wooden sword, has something to do with this sudden confident outburst.

"Alright. Everyone, get ready!" Minho grabs everyone's attention with his loud voice, "And.....GO!"

Eden blows the Horn and you turn to look at Felix, sending him a wink,

"We're winning this, Lee."

A few seconds into the game and you realise that Felix and you make a bloody wonderful team. He's good with the sword while you're good with the arrows, he has sharp senses while you have sharp reflexes.

Your opponents attack you at the most random, unexpected moment but the both of you happen to defeat everyone of them and move closer to the temple, climbing through the thick mountain forest.

"You know, I didn't think we'd make such a great team. " Felix admits, panting and wincing as a tree branch brushes past a bruise on his arm, "You're not that bad, eh?"

You manage to giggle just before an arrow wheezes past you, missing you by a single inch.

Your heart as if stops beating for a second.

"Shit! I thought we were leading!" You hiss, falling on the ground.

Felix gets ready to defend your vulnerable position, his sword raising in alarm.

While on the ground, you quickly grab an arrow and position your bow in the direction from which the opponents' arrow flew.

You hear crunching of leaves and branches and quiet whispering.

"They're here." Felix mutters.

The footsteps get closer and closer and before you know it, Felix is tackled aggressively onto the ground. You turn around and shoot your arrow, almost blinded by the suddenness of the situation.

"Goddamn it, Han Jisung!" Felix groans as he wrestles for dominance over Jisung, who is laughing almost maniacally.

"Jisung, I swear to-" you are about to get up and run towards the wrestling duo, but an arrow falls onto the ground, just near your feet.

Its your arrow.

"I underestimated you, y/n. You seem to be a pretty good archer." Changbin appears from behind one of the trees, a visible bruise on his cheek from where the blunt, rubber arrowhead must have hit him.

"And I, you." You respond, grabbing another arrow and stretching the string of your bow, "We're going to win this, Changbin. You might as well get going before I bruise your pretty face again."

Your words come from nowhere but a place of playfulness and competition, but Changbin's eyes turn dark.

You quickly run over to cover Felix, who seems to have gained dominance over a very tired Jisung, all of Jisung's arrows having fallen out of the case and onto the ground.

"I could say the same for you." Changbin approaches you, a wooden knife in one hand and a spear in the other.

He attacks and you dodge, smooth like a cat.

"Felix! Go! Get the flag!" You yell and hope Felix realises that Jisung is too tired to keep up a good fight, "Quick! Go now!"

Felix jumps from a panting, sweaty Jisung and runs towards the temple on top of the hill, his footsteps momentarily slowing down as he turns around to look at you, as if for reassurance.

You nod, "Go."

Your eyes turn to Changbin, who has his head tilted with a smirk on his face.

"I have always been a better runner than Felix, you know."

He tries to run past you but you grab the back of his shirt and drag him back, almost slipping in the process. Reflexively, he grabs your hand and forces his shirt out of your fist while you struggle to keep your feet flat on the ground.

Changbin is strong, you realise, extremely strong so when you try to throw in a punch, he dodges it easily.

Your brain is running wild now; your only motive being distracting Changbin from running after Felix.

"He won't go easy on you just because you've grown up together, you know." You say, almost mockingly as he tries to get out of your tight grip. You wonder if his shirt collar might tear because of it.

He scoffs, not bothering to answer but instead reaches for his wooden knife. And in the blink of an eye, the knife slashes across your forehead.

"Oh, God!" You groan, clutching the burning area on your forehead. Your body once again falls onto the ground, your vision extremely blurry.

With barely an eye open, you see Changbin run up the hill but you're quick to move and grab his feet such that he trips and falls down. You drag him down further, while he struggles to climb up.

Your heart beat is in your throat, your vision almost zero and your entire body is as if on fire. You pray to the Gods that Felix comes down the hill with the flag because in this state, you could only hold onto Changbin for so long. And not to mention Jisung who's slowly getting up with loud groans and complains falling out of his mouth.

As if on que, you hear footsteps hurrying down from up the hill and soon an enthusiastic voice follows,

"Y/n! We won!"

You wish to run up and hug the man but in your state, all you can do is let go of Changbin's leg and let out a sigh of relief, followed by a giggle.

"Told you, didn't I?"

* You often find yourself thanking the makers of Camp Levanter for making the Zeus cabin as far away from the others as possible that afternoon. It gives a much needed sense of privacy and the luxury of being able to choose when to socialize.

"I hope it doesn't leave a scar behind." You mutter to yourself, tending to your wounds on the verandah of your cabin.

You dip a cotton ball in an anti septic lotion and gently dab over your forehead, wincing when it stings.

"Need help?" You hear a heavy voice from near the staircase of the cabin and your heart jumps a little at his sight, "If you don't mind."

You run your eyes over the various purple and red marks on Felix's body and you pat the space next to you on the floor for him to come sit on.

"Your friend is dangerous." You remark when he settles down, flashing him your forehead wound.

He shrugs guiltily, "He's just a little aggressive, that's all. He'll come around."

Felix shifts in his seat and takes the cotton ball from your hand, silently volunteering to clean your forehead wound.

The sting is still very prominent, but Felix's other hand rubs comforting circles on your cheek to ease the pain.

"Minho told me that you met mom." He mutters after a few seconds, his lips turned down into a frown. Almost as if the news upset him.

"Yeah, I did." You admit as he applies an ointment and then fixes a bandaid over your wound.

"Have you never met-"

"No, I haven't. I don't know what she looks like or sounds like. My father never told me and she never bothered to show herself." Is he angry that his mother met you and not him?

You purse your lips, the sudden rise in tension making you uncomfortable.

"Hey, hey. I am not angry at you in particular." Ah, Aphrodite kids can feel auras. "I just wished she'd come to meet me as well. I don't know why she doesn't. " he mutters.

"Well," you start, "If it makes you feel any better, she did tell me that she wants you to go with us for a quest. Says its important for you to go."

Felix's eyes glimmer with a sense of relief. "Really?"

"Yes, of course and I'm sure she'll meet you soon." You reassure him, though you yourself weren't sure what Aphrodite might do. She isn't the most motherly entity, according to Hyunjin and the other Aphrodite kids.

"Do you want me to go the quest?"

You are applying the ointment on the bruise on his cheek when he decides to drop that question, catching you off guard.

"Why would my approval matter?" You ask.

"It matters." He almost whispers, "To me."

Heat races to your face at his unexpected yet sweet words. You know you shouldn't feel like this, you shouldn't get flustered because of a boy you met only a couple of days ago but under his unsettlingly calm gaze, you find yourself melting. Bit by bit.

"Okay, enough talk." You shake out of the trance, "Go to your cabin and rest. We leave tomorrow night. I hope you paid attention while Minho was explaining the quest or do I need to repeat it?"

Felix giggles, shaking his head, "I paid attention."

He jogs down the small stairs of your cabin and waves you goodbye, making his way to his cabin.

"And Felix,"

"Yes?"

I want you to come with me to the quest.

"Don't forget to have Ambrosia before bed. It'll help your wounds heal faster."

Oh, silly,silly, y/n!

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marigoldsandbuttercups · 3 years

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Hiya buddyyyyy! I was wondering, how would Blue tell an S/O that he loves them?

(Love your writing btw, it’s amazing and I love it a ton. The recent ask with Edge and Sans saying I love you to their S/O was high key adorable!)

The fact both of you asked this--

"I Love You" (PT 2)

♡ Blue Isn't someone that gets attached easily, so it takes a lot of time and effort for him to consider you as more than a friend, to be honest.

♡ He takes an even longer time when it comes to confessing his feelings, especially using words that are as heavy as "I love you".

♡ Of course, this doesn't mean that he won't take the relationship seriously, he would! With all his might! It's just, don't be expecting him to say such strong words so soon, it does take a while for him to realize that he's actually in love with you.

♡ It happens at a moment where he realizes that, he can trust you to the point of him considering you to be one of the very few people he confides in and trusts so deeply.

♡ You take him seriously, and you value his opinions and respect him as much as he respects you. Blue has had the unfortunate luck of being treated like he can't handle things or had his ideas ignored.

♡ But he never really told anyone that, but now here you were, sitting in front of him and nodding in understanding when he's finished venting.

♡ And it's really what happens after that makes him realize it. When you both slowly fall back into a regular rhythm and no change is obvious. You don't take pity on him or baby him but he notices that you're looking out for him in the most subtle ways.

♡ He's overjoyed and a little flustered when he realizes it, and he does take some time to simmer in his feelings. He's a lot more careful than one thinks, taking the time to make sure of what he's actually doing even if that doesn't seem like the case.

♡ You don't even realize something's up when he takes you out for a fun ride, instead choosing to live in the moment with him as he had planned.

♡ He can feel his soul pounding and feels like the air had been ripped away from him as you both sit together, watching the sunset. The serene lilac hue that bathes the sky for a brief moment before getting darker spurs him on as he turns to you, eagerly holding your hand as he gives you his widest smile.

♡ Blue can't help but go into a slight tangent in his quest to explain his feelings to you, the excitement and breathlessness in his voice evident but he isn't tired or worn out. Far from it, really.

♡ Eventually he gets to it, those very words he's been waiting to say. And by the stars, it was exhilarating. He could feel the wind rushing against his bones, yet the cool air did nothing to quell his heated bones as a charming shade of aquamarine graced his cheekbones.

♡ He can't help the small, flustered laugh of his as he sits closer to you. And despite trying his best to look calm, you can't help but notice the anticipation and excitement in his eyelights as he waits for your answer.

#sans #underswap #underswap sans #undertale imagines #undertale headcanons

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mandoalorian · 4 years

Text

The Way of Betrayal [Din Djarin x Reader]

Summary: Din Djarin finally meets other Mandalorians, and he learns the truth about his creed. Confused and hurting, he begins to over think, and so it's your job to comfort the Mandalorian and promise him that you'll love him no matter who he is or where he comes from

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: none really, a little bit of guilt and anxiety I suppose.

Authors note: I know I always write a smut based around the new episode but.. as a TCW/Rebels fan, chapter eleven hit hard. I had been theorising about Din being a Death Watch foundling on my twitter literally since season one came out and now that it's been confirmed… my feelings are all over the place. So I knocked up this fluff/angst. It's a little painful but let's preserve.

~ gif by firedragon04

When the leader of Clan Kryze, Bo Katan, removed her helmet, it came as a surprise to you. You couldn't even imagine how it made Din feel. His whole body tensed up, shock coursing through his veins.

Waves crashed against the hull of the ship, the cold air stinging your skin as you nursed the child in your arms. You covered him in your cloak slightly, protecting him from any further attacks. You hushed him gently, rocking him up and down as his big dark eyes blinked up at you. You gently stroked the light white hairs on his little green head and he gave you a tired smile. "You're okay, little one." you whispered out as he settled in your arms.

It wasn't just Bo Katan, but stood by her side were two other Mandalorians, both helmetless. You half expected Din to remove his helmet, despite you knowing that it was against the code of his creed. You were baffled, to say the least. You and your boyfriend were now stood before three Mandalorians, each one helmetless. Of course, there could be a chance that they weren't Mandalorian at all; and that their armour was stolen. It seemed as though Din shared the same thought process as you.

"Where did you get that Mandalorian armour?" he gritted out. "Nobody is allowed to remove their helmet."

"Oh, he's one of those." Said the girl with dark hair, bitterness dripping from her tongue.

Din didn't move an inch, his fingers cautiously gliding over the blaster in his holster. You didn't like her attitude, or the way she spoke to Din. You wanted to rip that smirk from her lips; but you knew that acting irrationally would only get you and your Mando in more trouble than necessary.

"One of what." Din's question came out as a more gruff statement, anger bubbling up in the pit of his stomach. He didn't have time for games.

Bo Katan hesitated for a moment, her amber eyes becoming glossy as traumatic memories swarmed over her. "Death Watch," she tried to remain composed but her explanation came out as a shaky exhale. "You were a foundling of the Death Watch. They're traditionalists, trying to rebuild the way of Mandalore so it remains the way it was intended to. They're a violent faction of Mandalorians. Your creed are responsible for the death of many Mandalorians, including my sister, Duchess Satine of Mandalore."

You knew of this. You had heard of this before. The prolonged silence was unbearable and you decided to speak up. Din was clearly struggling to process Bo Katan's words.

"We don't know what you're talking about," You sighed. "We have been tasked to bring this little one to the Jedi. We've come from far away places, just for some intel. Just to find you. Outer rim to inner rim. We need help."

"You really don't get it, do you?" Bo Katan frowned. Din remained silent and your grip tightened around the child as you took a step forward, breaking any distance between you and the red headed Mandalorian.

"Can you help us?" You asked finally, not wanting Bo Katan to expel any more information that could confuse or hurt Din. You knew he couldn't bear to hear the words that Bo Katan spoke, and to you, it didn't matter anyway.

You had heard of the Death Watch; but your father had always told you it was an ancient folk tale during the Clone Wars. He told you of clan leader Pre Vizsla and how he worked with Darth Maul to overthrow Duchess Satine. And now you were learning that it could all be true, and that your Mando could be part of it. You wondered how much Din knew about it.

Despite all of this, it was something you could see past. You knew Din better than anyone else in the whole world. You knew that he is not capable of Death Watch crimes. You could never judge him for his creed.

"We can help you. I know of… a Jedi…" Bo Katan folded her strong arms over her chest. "But you need to help us first. I'm looking for a certain Mandalorian weapon and I've received word that it's in the hands of an Ex-Imp. There's an Imperial transport leaving docking bay 94 at dawn and we plan on scavenging it for at least information on the weapon. Your help would be greatly appreciated."

Din loosened up, finally moving his gaze from the floor, back to Bo-Katan. For a moment and looked down at you, holding his garbling child in your arms. You and the child were his life, and he hated leaving you both. Since met you, he found himself caring more about you and the child, than he did himself. Mandalorian's are taught to be selfish, but you taught him compassion and love, something he valued a lot more. He was your protector. His mind returned back to Bo Katan's plot and he didn't like the sounds of it. He knew this would be a Mandalorian only mission, and that you wouldn't be able to join him.

The Razor Crest was in bits, and every native Din had already encountered had tried to kill him for his beskar, or kidnap you, or drown the child for shark food. There was no safe place you could stay. Sure, you were strong, but Din needed the confidence that he could protect you. He didn't want to leave your side.

"I'll consider it." Din replied and you knotted your eyebrows together in bewilderment. He wasn't sure if he could go through with the mission if it meant leaving you and the child behind. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to return the child to the Jedi; but he was quested to do so by his creed. The same creed he now learnt were Mandalorian terrorists during the Clone Wars.

"You know where to find us," Bo Katan smiled politely. "This is the way." she said before the three Mandalorians put their helmets back on and jetted off the ship and into the velvety night sky.

"What do you mean, consider it?" You asked Din, dropping a hand to your hip. "You've come this far. This could be your only chance to find the Jedi. You have to help them."

Din's knees felt weak, all this information was too much. The Mandalorian could handle a lot. He could survive a lot. But this was hard to take in. Your words were scrambled to him and with a wobble he fell backwards into a box of crates. You gently placed the child down and ran towards him, grabbing his hand and pulling him up, sitting him on an extended plank of wood. "Are you okay?" you asked, concern filling your eyes.

"Nngh, I don't know. I don't know if I can trust them." Din admitted, looking into the ocean. You slipped your hands into Din's and began to rub comforting circles through his gloved fingers.

"I've heard stories about Clan Kryze… and Duchess Satine. I've heard of the invasion of Mandalore, and all about Death Watch. They… they've done bad things to a lot of people." You felt Dins hand tense up at your words. "But that doesn't mean you're a bad person. I think it just means we can trust her."

Din looked at you. "They… they removed their helmets. All this time I've been telling you I can't but maybe I've been wrong."

"I don't care what they look like under their helmets. I don't care what you look like under yours. Because I fell in love with your heart, Din. And if you still don't want to remove your helmet, then I respect that."

"I feel so foolish." Din admitted and you shook your head. You sighed, leaning into him and curling up on his lap. The child clambered up his knees and shuffled in between you two for comfort. "Look cyar’ika, our little family." Din hummed with delight, running a gloved finger through your hair. "Promise me, no matter what, no matter who I am or where I come from, you won't leave me."

"I promise Din."

"Because I don't think I can live without you, sweet girl," Din croaked out, his heart breaking at the mere thought of losing you. "I wish I could take my helmet off for you and the kid. I wish I could show you who I really am."

You cupped the curve of his beskar helmet and looked into his visor. "I know who you really are Din, and I love you for it. Whatever happens next, we will figure it out together."

Permanent taglist (let me know if you would like to be added!): @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #star wars #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian season 2 spoilers #the mandalorian season 2 #din djarin x reader #bo katan

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highladyluck · 4 years

Text

Mat’s Types, or On Tricksters

I recently made a joke about Mat's 'type' essentially being the Shadar Logoth dagger, and while I stand by it, I also think there's a lot more to it than that. I believe Mat actually has two types, which is entirely appropriate for a trickster archetype. One of his types is playful, joyful, generous people, who reflect his early- but persistent- personality. The other is sharp, powerful, existentially dangerous people, like the person he becomes over the course of the series. Like a raven- itself a trickster figure in Haida storytelling- Mat is attracted to shiny things, mirrors, and death.

But first, some definitions. I'm calling Mat a trickster archetype, so what is that? The trickster archetype is built on a kind of dual contrast. To trick someone, you must change things in a surprising way. Tricksters introduce chaos into an ordered system, or reveal order in what was thought to be chaos. (It's not surprising, or a change, to add order to order, or chaos to chaos.) So tricksters are transformational, liminal figures, who defy expectations and subvert the preexisting order- but who therefore *require* predictions and structure to have any kind of impact or meaning at all. Playing a game requires there be rules; revealing a loophole requires there be a contract.

Within this definition, there's still a huge range of characters you can call tricksters, and it's useful to categorize them across spectrums. One axis of a trickster is "effectiveness", which refers to the trickster's ability to effect change; this is 'incompetent to competent', 'foolish to canny', 'harmless to dangerous'. Another axis is "motivation" which refers to the trickster's ethical structure; this is 'good to evil', 'generous to selfish', 'just to unjust'. There's another kind of axis that's related to motivation, which I'll call "comprehensibility", and which refers to the trickster's transparency of motive; the range there is 'knowable to unknowable', 'familiar to alien', 'clear to mysterious'. If you wanted to chart them all I'd make effectiveness the horizontal x-axis, motivation the vertical y-axis, and comprehensibility the z-axis perpendicular to both of them, but this is starting to get into 'gesturing at the wall map with crazy eyes' territory and I'm mostly just going to be talking about effectiveness and motivation anyway, so let’s move on.

Tricksters can be foolish figures, always getting caught, often the butt of their own joke. That's our early impression of Mat- a prankster who never really seems to get away with anything, or a fool caught in a trap of his own making. Mat is also generous, insofar as he has apparently been rescuing people his whole life, plus he's very 'easy come, easy go' about money, and has a decent instinct for gift-giving, whether those are compliments or actual physical presents. He has a strong sense of justice that puts him at odds with people who have (unearned) privilege and who are abusing power, and he loves verbally trapping people into confronting their own hypocrisy.

He keeps these traits throughout the series, but he also develops ones on the opposite side of the axes. Stealing the Shadar Logoth dagger is the catalyst for Mat's development from 'harmless, benevolent trickster' to 'dangerous, morally complicated trickster'. It literally overwrites first his personality, and then his memories. While he gets the personality back- sort of- he never gets the memories back, and his quest to do so sets him on the rest of his path.

By the end of the series, Mat has undergone enormous trauma and developed a much stronger sense of self-preservation. He becomes a canny and multi-talented figure, a brilliant tactician and strategist, a dangerous enemy to have. He's most selfish and cruel when under the influence of the Shadar Logoth dagger, but it turns out he's also never been in the rescuing business for free, he wants to be needed and will get a little pissy if he isn't (although to his credit, he respects people's wishes if they say they don't want to be saved from themselves.)

His greed for adventure and shiny things was what got him into trouble with the dagger, and he never quite loses his appraiser's eye (or taste) for luxury goods. And Tuon is entirely right to name him 'Devastation' or 'Ruin'; he's constantly blowing things up, killing enormous amounts of people directly or by proxy, and while everyone in this series commits war crimes, he's got the dubious honor of having another character (Teslyn) actually say to his face, "You know you just did a war crime, right?"

Mat spends the early books- when he's in good enough health to do so, and has the opportunity- pursuing women, wine, and song, and I mention them all together because that's the vibe he's going for. Mat genuinely loves flirting and dancing for their own sake, as fun things to do with receptive people, and that extends to sexual activities as well. It's a joyful, generous, playful way of interacting, and Mat's joie de vivre seems to attract people with similar attitudes.

Yes, Mat sometimes puts his foot in his mouth, but he's not actually disrespectful of anyone else's agency, so he's doing better than the rest of the Two Rivers boys. He doesn't make assumptions about whether there will be a next interaction or not, or how far each interaction will go; each step is negotiated with input from both players, which makes it a kind of game. Mat doesn't have long-term relationships with these fun, playful people, but he's not looking for that, and neither are they.

The other kind of people Mat is attracted to are what I'll call 'dagger people', who are sharp (smart, competent, possibly literally an edged weapon), powerful, and existentially dangerous. It is *possible* that Mat might have acquired this taste without the Shadar Logoth dagger's influence. He likes battles, he likes adventure, he generally treats women as respected equals, he might have gotten to 'date a woman who can kick your ass' all on his own. But Mat loved that Shadar Logoth dagger, they had a whole entire fucked-up relationship, and when they broke up he got a bunch of rebound knives and also some sharp, powerful, and existentially dangerous people's memories shoved into his head. Like calls to like, blood feeds blood, etc.

And boy, does Mat find these ladies, or more accurately, boy, do these ladies find him. Case in point: Melindhra, the sexy darkfriend Maiden of the Spear. I think Aludra partially fits, too- sharp, confident if not powerful, dangerous (though not so much to him as like... the world.) Mat isn't pursuing or attracted to either Joline or Tylin, but they also fit this description, and they definitely pursued him. (I'd love to add Lanfear to the list of 'dangerous ladies who made passes at Mat' but I can't quite do it with a straight face.) I don't think Mat's thing for dagger people really reaches its full flower until he starts getting to know Tuon, though.

Mat spends much of the series looking for both his types, and tends to find either one or the other, but not both in one person- until Tuon. Like Mat, Tuon is actually both these types in a sometimes uneasy coexistence. For all their many differences, they think about each other much the same way. They both find each other very layered and confusing, but also are surprisingly quick to trust each other, which is striking in people who are very suspicious, in a fraught situation, and on opposite sides. I think most of the reason they trust each other is because they have the same very contractual personal honor system, where 'my word is my bond'. That's a trickster thing; tricksters have to keep some kind of rules, or how else will they play games and know whether they've won or lost? But their rules can be hidden or idiosyncratic (that's the z-axis, comprehensibility) as you see in 'bargains with the fae'-type situations. Personal honor is also a feature of royalty, though, where the personal and political are bound together, and a person's promises can be treated as legal contracts, as well as honor-based societies in general.

Mat and Tuon take their promises to each other very seriously, but are also always both looking for loopholes so they can get the upper hand. They also are both following the script of prophecy, which I mention because they both devote a lot of time to subverting their own expectations about how exactly that prophecy is going to play out. Mat buckles down and says “I’m going to make this come out in my favor somehow, even though it’s not what I wanted,” yet he’s still surprised at how and when Tuon completes the marriage ceremony; Tuon does not find Mat anything like she expected, and she also is surprised at her own feelings for him. Near the end of the series, they take a break from playing tricks and mind games on each other, and instead bluff everyone else on the battlefield, tag-teaming their trickster powers for one last surprise attack.

Ok, so how is Tuon Mat’s first type, playful, joyful, and generous? She loves playing games with Mat, both actual literal games like stones, but also their weird flirting/power plays. She's super competitive, because anyone who wasn't who was in her shoes would be dead, but she's a good sport, "satisfied when she wins and determined when she loses". She's also got "mischievous" smiles, and turns the tables on Mat in a super trickster-y way, writing the letter that puts everyone in the circus under her protection except for Mat and his crew; which means he and his coterie are still 'not safe' and thus he has to keep travelling with her rather than bringing her back to Ebou Dar right away, by the terms of their promise.

Mat gives us really lovely descriptions of her in moments of joy, and one of the first things we learn about her is that her genuine smile makes her look completely different from the normal Resting Bitch Face she affects for self-preservation reasons. She's generous in the sense that she's (often) willing to consider other points of view and give people second chances, when others in her position wouldn't and don't. She has the generosity of privilege, which I admit is not the most laudable form of generosity, but it's still a form of generosity. She also has a natural compassion and merciful impulses that have been trimmed and hemmed and twisted into only the forms her society deems socially acceptable, but they're still there.

I have less of a job to do proving that Tuon is a 'dagger person'. You remember how I joked about 'sharp' meaning 'literally an edged weapon'? Well, I don't know how else I'm supposed to interpret "Tuon’s right hand swept across, bladed like an axe, and struck [the footpad's] throat so hard that he heard the cartilage cracking". SHE'S LITERALLY A WEAPON. MAT HAS FINALLY FOUND A REPLACEMENT FOR HIS SEXY EVIL KNIFE. :') She's also super smart, super canny, and a snappy dresser to boot. She's one of the most powerful women in the world, and by the end of the series Mat is absolutely into it. (The bit where he's like "She's so good at giving orders! *heart eyes*" is simultaneously hilarious and alarming. I get it- I simp for Kuvira from Legend of Korra, I can't throw stones at anyone who’s like ‘hot evil Empress, please step on me’- but there's a time and a place, Mat.)

And, of course, she's an existential threat to the world, Mat's family and friends, and (theoretically) Mat himself. The Seanchan Empire, despite not being bigoted towards the Tinkers and having pretty good gender equality, is committing massive human rights violations left and right, thanks to the slavery, channelerphobia, and imperialism. As a tool of the Empire, unless he works on extricating himself, Mat's going to be culpable for that (he already is, really, but it could be worse), which is a stain on his soul that I don't think either he or the readers want. Being a tool of the Empire is an existential threat to Mat's idea of himself as an independent agent and good person, and I guess also an existential threat to his life since he's getting all those assassination attempts from his coworkers. (I am excluding Tuon from the assassination attempts; as I've mentioned in a previous essay, her threats to Mat are not serious and are in fact a form of deranged flirting.)

Tuon and Mat are both dual-axis tricksters, in their way. Tuon- or I should really be saying, Fortuona, Lady Luck- is more on the bringing order to chaos side, and Mat falls most characteristically on the bringing chaos to order end of things. But they switch roles- Mat shores up the proper order of things when he reminds Tuon to keep her promises, and Tuon is often a chaotic influence at court, with her mercy or willingness to change her mind. They also both understand what it's like to be both a person and an archetype- Mat worries about losing his individual choice and freedom by becoming a hero, and Tuon worries about becoming too vulnerable and individual to be the strong and impartial hand she thinks the Empire needs.

They've also both experienced their instincts and worldview being overwritten by external forces; for Tuon it's been happening since birth and she's almost entirely embraced the process; for Mat, it was the consequence of a choice he made and he fought it every step of the way. They have very different responses, but they've experienced weirdly similar 'erasure' experiences. And they both have good and evil impulses entwined in complicated ways. Tuon is a survivor and a monster; a preserver and a destroyer; a person and an empire. And Mat builds a relationship with her when- and because- he accepts that he is both a lover and a fighter; generous and thieving; a person and a weapon. You may not like it, but this is what peak narrative compatibility looks like.

#wheel of time #wheel of time meta #meta #mat cauthon #tuon paendrag #mat/tuon #problematic fave tuon #trickster #tricksters #'I had more thoughts on my one-line joke so here is a follow-up essay' should be inscribed on my tombstone #it's about the ARCHETYPAL DEPTH #RJ gave me a 7-layer-dip of mutually reinforcing thematic parallels and my poor little 14-year-old literary tastebuds never recovered #mat/dagger

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elvish-sky · 4 years

Text

The Temptation of Regality: You’re Here

A.N: I’ve had this idea for a super long time and was so happy to be able to incorporate it into this series! It was so much fun to write, I’ve kinda been adding ideas and working on it for a while and I’m honestly very proud of it. Also- I know I’m absolutely terrible at titles and I’m really trying but it’s just very hard so please don’t hate me for them. Anyways, enjoy!

Word Count: 2,654

Pairings: You know the drill… Thorin x Reader

Warnings: Injury, alcohol/drunkenness

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

****

You’re Here

You plodded through the trees, only able to summon enough energy to put one foot in front of the other. Thorin was in front of you, and Fili just behind- they wanted to make sure that if you did collapse, someone would catch you. You could feel the growing unease at the slow pace you were setting, and tried to speed up. Instead of complying, your leg gave out and you crumpled to the ground with a groan.

None of this would have been an issue if it wasn’t for the orcs. That morning, several days after departing from Rivendell, you had been foraging for breakfast in a lovely quiet green meadow, when an arrow came whistling through the trees and lodged itself in your leg. Crying out in pain, you had fallen to the ground, helplessly watching as a warg with an orc rider sprung from its perch of a boulder, clearly intent on finishing you off. The orc scrambled down from its seat, drawing a filthy sword with a grin on its face. Drawn by the sound of your cry, thirteen dwarves and a hobbit burst out of the trees, Kili killing the orc with a well-placed arrow (a shot that you couldn’t help but admire, despite your injured state), as Dwalin clashed with the warg, dispatching it with a blow to the neck that sent it right onto the point of Thorin’s sword. Once that had all been dealt with, they sprinted to where the rest of the Company was gathered around you, watching as Oin removed the arrow from your leg and bound the wound.

Given the fact that, as a human, you were larger than everyone else in the group, it would have been very difficult to carry you. Instead, you stubbornly insisted that you were “fine, thank you very much!” and staggered along the path. You had done okay most of the day, only having to stop more often than usual because the blood loss had made you weak. Every time Thorin had called “halt,” you had collapsed to the ground but had managed to rise one it was time to get moving again. At least, every time until now.

“Y/N,” Kili cautioned, “this does not look good.”

“I can tell that, thank you,” you snapped back at him, your pain causing the rudeness. Oin made his way up the line to talk to Thorin.

After a short, whispered conversation, Thorin pronounced “There is a small town just a little bit further ahead. I had planned on bypassing it completely, but Oin says that Y/N will heal much faster if she rests well tonight. We will sleep there tonight and continue our journey tomorrow.”

This was met with sighs of relief from the rest of the company, as everyone had been longing to sleep in a warm bed.

“Y/N, do you think you can make it just a bit further on that leg?” Dori inquired with a concerned look on his face.

“Of course I can.” You proceeded to haul yourself up by Fili’s coat, but once you tried to put weight on the wounded leg it gave out. Again.

“Thorin, I’m so sorry,” you stated apologetically, “I can’t walk. Just leave me here and continue the quest without me.”

“Nonsense, lass!” exclaimed Dwalin, and he, Fili, and Bofur proceeded to pick you up and put you on the makeshift litter they sometimes used for Bilbo or Bombur. Surprised at how comfortable it was even with your wound, you quickly drifted off to sleep.

Waking at the noise once you had reached the town, you gestured to Dwalin, Fili, and Bofur to put the litter down and you attempted to place weight on your leg once again. Refreshed from your nap, it didn’t give out beneath you although it was still painful.

“Where are Thorin, Bilbo, and Gloin?” you asked, noting their absence from the group gathered around you.

“Inside, getting rooms,” answered Nori.

While waiting for their return, you gazed at your surroundings. It looked to be a small village, about the size of Bree. The buildings were worn with age, scratches and dents highlighted by the bright moon above.

This peace was quickly disturbed by the crashing sound of a door opening, and you turned to see Gloin beckoning at the company to come inside. As you did, he told everyone the sleeping arrangements for the night.

“We are in luck, lads!” he exclaimed, and then with a look at you quickly added “and lass!”

“They have several adjoining rooms available, so Bifir, Bofur, and Bombur will have one, Dwalin, Balin, Oin, and myself will share another, Ori, Nori, Dori and Bilbo will have the third, and Fili, Kili, Thorin, and Y/N will share the last.”

This proclamation was met with mixed reactions, but the biggest objection came from Fili. “Y/N has to share with us!? She’s a girl, and she’s injured! Don’t they have any other open rooms?”

“I’m sorry lad,” Gloin apologized, “trust me when I say there really were no other options. Thorin threatened to separate the innkeeper’s head from his body, but they still did not have any other rooms.”

“It’s okay,” you consoled Fili, “I’ll be fine sharing, I can put up a blanket or something. Also, this way I have the three strongest warriors to protect me!” You knew that the best way to get him to calm down was through flattery, and sure enough it worked.

You limped up the stairs alongside everyone else. Gloin and Thorin opened doors as you made you way down the hallway, ushering groups of dwarves into their rooms. Finally, when you, Thorin, and the brothers had reached the end of the creaky floors, he pulled open the last door to reveal a small room. It had four beds, one was on top of another and the other two were placed side-by-side.

“They did not have any single rooms left, and I’d rather have you with us,” Thorin was looking up at you, clearly seeking your agreement. Bemused, you nodded your head in thanks. He had been much kinder to you since Rivendell, and you couldn’t quite figure out why, although you did look back on his reaction to you in that dress fondly.

“I figured we could hang a blanket around the bed on the bottom to give you some privacy,” Thorin explained.

“Good idea, Uncle!” Kili set to work, taking a blanket from his pack and tacking it up. When he finished, he stood to the side for your approval.

“Thank you, Kili, it looks great.” He beamed in satisfaction as you saw Thorin strolling over to another door you hadn’t noticed.

“The real reason we saved this room for the four of us was because…” and he opened the door to reveal a washroom.

“Everyone else has to use the communal ones!” Kili announced.

“Yes. Gloin and I paid the innkeeper a little extra to get this room,” said Thorin. You gave them each a little peck on the cheek in thanks and limped over to the washroom, intending to freshen up and maybe even bathe.

“Have a good time, Y/N,” Fili declared, and the three dwarves left you in peace.

After bathing, you examined your leg, which didn’t look as bad as you had first thought. You were relatively confident that you would be able to walk tomorrow. You dressed in your clean set of clothes, washed by the innkeeper’s wife while you bathed, and made your way downstairs for some food.

You were met with quite the sight. Thorin was hiding under a table, Nori and Bofur were singing along to the music played by Bifir and Gloin on top of said table. Dori, Ori, and Dwalin seemed to be doing some sort of dance next to the table, and Bombur had gotten hold of Nori’s coat and was searching through it for stolen goods. Bilbo seemed to be yelling at Thorin under the table, only making him cower more. Balin and Oin were seated at said table, looking highly amused by the antics.

Bemused, you made your way over to the table where Fili and Kili sat, looking, for once, well-behaved. “What on Middle-Earth is happening to everyone?” you exclaimed, “and why aren’t you two in the center of all the trouble?”

“They all got drunk,” Kili responded, “and we’ve been designated the official sober dwarves for the night.”

“Normally,” Fili added, “we’d be disappointed that we weren’t drinking. But we’re really enjoying this.”

You began to as well, watching your friends make complete fools of themselves. However, you were still a little confused about the antics.

“But why are they all acting so oddly?” you queried of the brothers.

“We haven’t had ale in a while, especially any as strong as this, and none of us are the best at holding our alcohol.” Fili returned.

“We spent a while in Rivendell, and you’re telling me none of you sampled any of their wines?” You were skeptical.

Kili looked sheepish. “Uncle forbid us. Said ‘I do not want you drinking any of the filthy elvish wines.’”

Fili nodded. “Of course, he may have put it a bit more strongly, but that’s the general gist of it.”

“Anyways,” Kili continued, “we’ve come to know what everyone in the company does when drunk, and would like to tell you. Fili, would you begin?”

“Gladly.” Fili took a big swig of water before launching in. “So, Y/N. Thorin gets rather paranoid when drunk, and I believe he currently thinks that most of the people in this room are assassins. Sadly, he is also a timid drunk and therefore will not confront them, which is probably best. Nori, Bifir, Bofur, and Gloin get very musical when drunk, and Nori also gets rather remorseful which is probably how Bombur got a hold of his coat.”

Kili picked up the explanation as Fili paused for a bite of food, “Dori, Ori, and Dwalin get rather overconfident, which explains the absolutely terrible dancing. And we’ve never seen Bilbo drunk before, but he seems to get rather angry.” With that the brothers sat back in their chairs, waiting for your reaction.

Which, sensibly, was to let your head crash onto the table. “This is going to be a long night.”

“Oh, you have no idea.” Fili was starting to look rather worried himself.

Much later, you sat at the table with the boys, watching the room descend further into madness.

“Should we round them up?” They both nodded, and with a sigh the three of you stood.

“I’ll get Balin and Oin to help, they don’t look too bad.” You gave Fili a glance of approval before making your way into the throng.

Figuring that maybe if you got the leader under control, everyone else would calm down, you crawled under the table, wincing as you felt your wound flare up with pain, to see Thorin, curled into a ball with Bilbo kneeling next to him.

“And that’s another thing!” The hobbit was pretty much yelling. “Handkerchiefs are essential to a hobbit’s daily life! In forcing me to leave mine behind you have deprived me of my well-being…” At this point you tuned him out, focusing on the king.

“Bilbo.”

“What?!” He snapped at you.

“Would you mind heading upstairs? It’s late.”

“Why should I do what you tell me? I’ve been taking orders this whole quest with no one stopping for just a second to think about what I fe-”

“I hear there may be handkerchiefs upstairs.”

“Oh,” he looked thoughtful, “alright then.” And without further ado the hobbit left.

“Thorin?” You placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

He started. “Y/N? Why are you here?” And then his face darkened. “Have you come to kill me too, like Bilbo was?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at him “Unless our burglar was planning to talk you to death, I think we’re good. And no, Thorin, I’m not going to murder you.”

He looked at you, suspicion plainly written across his face. “Are you sure?”

“Of course, you silly dwarf,” you shook your head at him fondly, “now let’s head upstairs.”

You grabbed his hand, only now noticing the lack of noise from the room around you. Emerging from under the table, you saw only a few people left. Balin and Oin were still sitting, this time at a different table, and Balin threw a wink at you as you appeared, dwarf in tow. Blushing, you shook your head madly at him, seeing his mouth curve up in a smile under the white beard. Rolling your eyes as he and Oin raised tankards in your direction, you began to tow Thorin up the stairs.

Reaching the landing, you staggered as he leaned on you heavily. You weren’t sure if your leg could take the extra weight, it was already throbbing, so you grabbed him by the armpit, trying to support yourself and not make him fall. You failed, and you crashed to the ground, limbs tangled with those of the king.

Your fall had been rather noisy, and Fili and Kili came bursting out of your room at the end of the hall. They started laughing once they saw your predicament, but still made their way down the hall to help. Fili grabbed his uncle and hauled him up, slinging an arm across his shoulder. They staggered back, and you laughed at the sight of the nephew helping his taller uncle. Then you thought about what it must have looked like with you trying to help Thorin, and laughed even more.

Kili helped you stand, and stood still as you leaned on him, trying to find your balance. Once you had, he started slowly walking so that your hopping leg could keep up. Fed up with this about halfway down the hall, he scooped you up and carried you the rest of the way with no trouble despite the fact that you were much taller. Reaching the doorway, he shouldered it open and deposited you in the chair you directed him to right next to Thorin’s bed.

You giggled to see the king sprawled out on his bed, eyes closed. He didn’t look very regal, but it was just such an endearing sight. Reaching over, you pulled the blanket over him, tucking it in around his shoulders. You brushed a strand of hair out of his face, starting in surprise as his eyes opened and a hand shot out to grab your wrist.

“Amrâlimê (my love).” His voice was rough.

You heard twin gasps from across the room, and turned to see Fili and Kili sneaking out.

“We’ll just leave you two alone now.” Kili winked at you before shutting the door behind him.

“Amrâlimê.” Thorin’s voice was more insistent this time, and you looked at him to see his face lit up with earnesty.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

You smiled at his words. “Me too, Thorin. Me too.” You started to stroke his face, fingertips tracing the line of his beard as his eyes fluttered closed, breathing growing deeper. You smiled at him as your eyelids began to grow heavy. You fully intended to make your way over to your own bed, but, too tired to think about standing, you let your head fall onto Thorin’s chest, slumping across him as you drifted off to sleep.

Fili and Kili peered around the door to see you collapsed over their uncle, both fast asleep. Kili made to go move you to your bed, but Fili stopped him, grabbing his arm.

“Leave them be.”

Kili caught onto his brother’s plan, and stepped back. “Let’s leave these two in peace and go see if Bilbo and the Ri brothers have any spare room.”

Fili nodded, and the two quickly grabbed their bedding and packs before slipping out the door, Fili sneaking one last fond glance at the two sleeping figures before silently shutting the door.

Everything tag 💞: @entishramblings @itgetsatadhazy @boyruins @anjhope1

Series Tag: @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @moony-artnstuff @whiskeywinter89 @beakami @sassyscribbler @yes-captainstark

Thorin tag: @lathalea

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dragonrajafanfiction · 3 years

Text

Tokyo Love Story (Part 6) The Fight

This scene does not appear in the books or the game. This is a scene that relates to the MC and her journey in my “Main Story Quests Rewritten” series but takes themes and information from what happened to Kogure and Akira Sakurai. One thing that is not communicated well in the game, is that Kogure and Akira were put in positions to die. The things that happened to them didn’t “Just Happen”. It was arranged.

I can’t ask you to enjoy what I’ve written, but I hope you read it and feel emotions.

In the park where you had taken shelter from Hydra, you were now trapped by them. You and Chance were unable to escape and Chisei Gen now stood over Chance while you hid behind a Buddha statue, still out of sight. You’re not sure what to do. While you were strong and fast and clever. Chisei Gen was stronger and faster than you. There wasn’t much cover, it wouldn’t be a lot of time before he found you. All you had was your deadpool claw dagger, but the sword Onimaru could even cut through that.

Chisei Gen loomed over the trembling whimpering Chance. “I’m only going to ask you once. Where is Ruri Kazama?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know!” He held out his hands, pleading and in a flash of light, one of his fingers disappeared.

Chance’s agonized screams drove you to press your fingers into the ground. You didn’t care if you toppled a few buildings. You would use your Soul Skill if you had to make this stop! You just needed Chance to hang on for a few seconds. Just a few seconds!

“I’m telling the truth!” Chance clutched his wrist and fell to his side. Wide-eyed with terror, sweating with pain, he gasped. “After Ryoma Sakurai died, information stopped coming from up top. I didn’t even know Kazama was going to show up in town until he was there! I swear!”

You close your eyes tighter, the tendrils of spiritual energy pierce the ground, racing to gather and spread. Then your head is pulled up on your neck! You're pulled up by your hair. You have to stand on tip toe to relieve the pressure on your scalp. A smooth slimy voice chuckles. “Oh ho ho… Hey boss! I found a little rabbit!”

Your eyes go wide. If he saw your face… Thinking quickly, you pull the golden comb out of your hair to release your bangs. They descend like a waterfall over your eyes.

“No! Let her go! Please!” Through your dark locks, Chance furiously tries to reach for the dagger in his leg.

“If you pull that out, you’ll bleed to death.” The mocking voice from behind you reminded you so much of the pantysniffer. “Oo… she’s young too… Boss, when you’re done with this guy can I have her?”

Chance’s face twists with anger but you meet his eyes and give a little shake of your head.

“I don’t care, Yasha.” Chisei turned back to Chance. “You’re Inuyama Ichirou, a Rank A hybrid, Code: Orange. You’ll lose control at any time, but you’ve evaded our tracking and have gone unmonitored…”

“I haven’t killed anyone!” Chance gasps from the ground. “I just worked as a prostitute and cater to clientele who like it rough. It’s what I do. It’s how I satisfy it. It’s all consensual.” True to his nature, Chance let out a laugh even though he could see his reflection in that blade that had killed so many of his fellow hybrids.

Yasha turns to you and you stay still to try maintain your focus on your soul skill, but your temper and fury rises. Your eyes glittered like hard black stones behind your hair. Yasha whispers in your ear. “You like it rough too huh?”

You didn’t just need to stay still for your sake, you needed to stay still for Chance’s. If Chance tried to fight Chisei, it would be over before you could do anything. You look at Chance again and shake your head.

“Huh!” Yasha’s eyes widened slightly. “A brave one.”

“Despite that…” Chisei continues slowly, sending an annoyed glance at Yasha. “I can’t just let you go. You need to be monitored.”

“Please… don’t kill me. Don’t send me to prison. I’ll live quietly, like I always have. I’ve always lived quietly. And… “ A tear slipped down his cheek. “I love her. I love her. Please.” He fell at Chisei’s feet, bowing until his forehead touched the ground. “Let us go to Hokkaido.” He turned to you. “Let’s go to Hokkaido. There’s a lot of snow there. We’ll go and we’ll get married in the snow.”

“Okay.” You say, softly, staying still. Your voice is gentle and sweet, in contrast to the brutal scene. “I’ll marry you in Hokkaido.”

Despite his fear and the pain crashing through him, Chance smiled through his tears. “Good. That’s good. Then in that case, I will renounce all ties to the Devil Clan!”

Chisei doesn’t say anything but the tip of his sword lowers. “Sakura. Go tell the others to finish searching the car. Yasha, let the girl go and go with her.”

Yasha let out a sad little whimper and released your hair. You sink down to the ground and the rest of your hair forms a curtain around your face. The flowers tilt askew, still hanging on by just their pins. Yasha stuffs his hands in his pockets and slouches sullenly as he ambles down the path out of sight.

“I will need your information so I can track you.” Chisei kneels next to Chance and Chance stares in wonder as Chisei pulls a handkerchief from his trenchcoat to wrap his hand where he’s now missing a finger.

Tears were already flowing down Chance’s face and now they became a torrent. “I want my nieces and nephews back! They took the children! I can’t go without them too!”

Chisei calmly ties the wound with a stiff knot.. “From where?”

“From the Residential District in Tokyo. The one that burned. My brothers fought so the kids wouldn’t be taken. They’re all orphans now… so they were taken to the prisons.”

Chisei let out a breath and then he nodded. “Alright. Give me a list of their names. Once you get to Hokkaido, I’ll have them released to you. But you have to stay monitored. That’s all I ask.” Chisei stands up and starts wiping his sword with a cloth.

Chance is shaking but he’s slowly returning to his confidence. He turned to you and smiled. Your chest swells with pride. Not only could Chance save you, but also what remained of his family.

Chance reached into his jacket and pulled out a vial of purple liquid. When you see it and when Chisei sees it, you both gasp. You remembered this vial from the man with the stripe suit who had used it to turn into a monster to fight Caesar. You never thought that Chance would be holding a vial of such deadly poison. No wonder he cried so much in your arms when you told him to live! He was holding a suicide pill right in his hand!

“I was planning on using this if we got in a pinch… but not any more.” Chance said gently.

“Who gave you that!” Chisei hissed. He had gone pale faced, his expression taut. His hand tightens on his blade.

“I don’t know. It was next to my head when I woke up one morning. Whoever left it, left a note saying I was at the end of my life and I should use my time to dance brightly.” His eyes narrowed in hatred as he held it up. “...like a moth in the flames…” He threw it hard into the pea gravel. The vial shattered and the purple liquid seeped into the ground.

Chisei lunged forward, brandishing his sword. You leap to your feet and rush to meet him.

From the shadow of the trees in the park, a muzzle of a gun flashes and the bullet that should have struck Chance in the heart, shatters across the sword Onimaru! The shrapnel sparkled in the air like gold dust and scattered onto the ground.

You skid to a halt and a bullet whizzes just by your head!

Chisei snarled, crouching over a stunned Chance, his body blocking him from the hidden shooter. His eyes are dark with rage. “I knew it!”

You thought Chisei was attacking Chance, but Chisei was protecting him!

You both spot the hidden assassin at the same time. He’s lying low in the bushes in dark camouflage and had to have been watching the entire scene.

The assassin pops the cork off his own vial of the elixir and upends it into his mouth. Immediately, black vines crawl up his arms and neck, followed by shining white scales. His fingers extended beyond the limits of known life and his face shrunk into something monstrous! He leaps directly at Chisei, clearing the distance in a single bound, screaming like a wild thing. Chisei moves aside just enough to allow the claw to scratch his cheek. He only lifts the tip of the sword slightly. The momentum of the newborn dead pool carries it into the tip, slides him all the way down the blade, to the hilt. Chisei doesn’t waste time or words. He raises his foot and kicks the would-be assassin to the ground, stands over him and stabs him once through the neck. With a single twist, you hear the vertebrae snap.

Chisei looks at Chance coldly, waving his sword once and splashing the black blood into the grass. “The Devil Clan is exploiting the desperation of its members when it's giving them that poison. This is the third time this has happened. First was with Akira Sakurai, the lab experiment who helped create this vile liquid. Second was Ryoma Sakurai who drank it to end her life at the Paradisio. The person giving it to them intends for them to die. Each time, they talk about moths… and flames… when I find out who is behind that toxin, I will kill him myself.”

Chance’s hands balled into fists. “But it’s you Hydra who are driving us to desperation. You’re not excused!”

“Chance… let’s go…” You move next to him to try to help him up. You want Chisei to let you go while you have the chance and while he still doesn’t recognize you.

“You should go quickly. That assassin was a Devil Clan member hidden among our ranks. Get tickets to Hokkaido. I’ll provide a safe place for you until this is all over. I’m afraid you won’t be able to trust anyone else.”

“MC…” Chance looks at you, whispering earnestly. “Do I get a star-heart?” He chuckles low in his throat.

You laugh that he’s still thinking of that silly game. “Of course you get a star heart. You can have all the star-hearts.”

He stands up and then suddenly pulls you to him. He holds you close, pressing his body against yours. His breathing accelerates like he’s just run a marathon. He kisses you but it’s not like the kiss from before. This is more like Z’s forceful, penetrating kiss but ten times more aggressive. His fingertips press into your back hard, so hard they might leave bruises. And then his fingers send sharp pangs into your back, like the nails have turned to needles. You want to scream. Your eyes widen and you try to pull away but his grip is so tight now, you feel as though your bones might break. When you look into his eyes, they’re blood shot and then they blaze golden!

Even though Chance didn’t take the molotov cocktail, the dragon blood in his body has been raging all his life, like the fuse on a bomb. He knew the eventuality and had maintained his human nature for a long time. But now, the excitement of freedom, of love, the smell of blood and the adrenaline of violence had pushed him over the edge. He wasn't losing control because of poison, he was losing control by his own nature!

Chisei’s attack was swift, and Chance turned to defend himself. Bone claws had started to grow from his hands just like they did with the assassin, but it was your bronze dagger that flashed up in an arc and sent Chisei staggering back. He stared at you, wide eyed, finally getting a good look at your face through your hair and makeup. “MC?!”

A look of horror passes over his face. He had wanted to get to know you over sake, but instead, you’d seen him torture and nearly kill the man you loved.

You don’t care about Chisei, you rush to Chance who’s clutching his head and staggering, moaning loudly in pain.

“Chance!” You grab his shoulders and look into his face, pleading. “Chance, you have to live, do you hear me? You have to fight it! Fight!”

His eyes flicker from green to gold and he stares at you in fear. “I’m trying…”

He falls to one knee and you follow him down, your hands sliding down his arms. You try to keep eye contact as he swayed like someone drunk..

“Chance, you have to live. You have to live. Please… please remember.” You glance back at Chisei. His sword is low and his eyes are dull and empty as he looks at you.

He doesn’t look like he’s going to attack. You turn back to Chance. “You can’t lose it now. You can’t!”

“I don’t want to…” He sobs. “I’m...so… close.” The dark veins on his hands slowly start to retract and the scales stop their progression. His will to live and to love you is so strong that the dragonization process has halted. He meets your gaze with sparkling green eyes. “I love you.”

You cradle his face in your hands and smile at him, lovingly. “You’re doing it!” You turn back to Chisei, face radiant. “He’s doing it!”

Chisei doesn’t share your enthusiasm. A heavy sadness has fallen over the man and he doesn’t move.

You look at Chance again, willing the scales to fall, willing the veins to retract. You shake his shoulders to rouse him. “I told you. You can live.”

“We’ll get married in Hokkaido.” He says, his eyes lidding half closed. He sounds sleepy, overcome with incredible weariness. “In the snow.”

“Yes.” You nod.

“We’ll raise my nephews and nieces.”

“Yes!” You laughed, tears of joy ran from your eyes.

“I’m… so happy…” He rests his head against your chest and you lightly stroke his hair. You press your lips against his head and close your eyes. For a moment, you hug him like a mother would soothe a child after a terrible nightmare. “Just focus… focus on getting better.”

“...Bye…” His voice is scarcely above a whisper.

Your eyes snap open. He pushes you to the ground and the claws rip across your dress. The delicate lace floats into the steady breeze. You’re on your back, looking up as the darkness of the sky surrounds the bright golden eyes of the person who was once Chance - Inuyama Ichirou. There was no human there, only a vicious animal. His hand closed on your throat.

You should have fought, but your training didn’t kick in. Your mind is completely blank. His face is withering away inches from yours. His skin is turning a sickly grey-green. But you don’t want to use your dagger. Or your soul skill. You want him to stop. To fight it.

In that moment, a strong arm wraps around Chance’s throat like a python and pulls him back. In the next instant, the bright blue sword pierces from his back through his chest, sending blood raining down on your hair, your face, your dress.

Chance flails wildly, gasping. “Wait… wait!”

“Wait!” You cry. His eyes are green again. Chance was still fighting!

Chisei lets him fall however. He turns him over on his back with his foot. Chance can no longer speak, gurgling blood rising up out of his mouth.

“Stop!” You leap and take hold of Chisei’s sword arm in an attempt to disarm him but his elbow slams into your chest so hard your feet come out of your slippers, you sail through the air and land so hard on the ground you’re stunned breathless.

When you sit up, Chance is struggling, gagging against the sword in his neck. Chisei retracts it and he lays still.

You can’t even scream. You run even though it's too late. Your spirit feels out of your body and the ringing in your ears makes the world go completely silent. You don’t remember falling next to Chance, but in the next instant you’re cradling his head, rocking back and forth like the abandoned Izanami. You can feel the warmth of the blood soaking into your fine hanfu.

The scales leave Chance’s pale face and the skin left there is perfect, like a child’s skin. He looks beautiful. But he’s dead. He would never open his eyes again, speak to you again, or kiss you. You’re not getting married in Hokkaido and his relatives would languish in prison. You thought you had it. You thought you could defy the world. But the world is too cold and cruel to you to grant you such happiness.

You remove your tattered silk shawl from your shoulders and press it into the wounds. There’s so much blood that the thin fabric seems to dissolve into it. You turned to Chisei who was still pale, his jaw was clenched as he looked at you with a dull, heavy depression.

The sky above you had grown darker and darker and now it finally opened up, releasing a flooding torrent from above that soaks you in cold rain. You gather yourself up to your feet.

“You murderer…” You point at him with one pale hand, your dark hair plastered on your face. “Killer!”

Lightning flashes and thunder snaps through the air as though the judgement was sustained by God.

Chisei shook his head slowly. “He was gone…” His voice is soft, but despite his attempt to be firm with you, the words were trembling.

“No!”

Chisei freezes. You’ve flung the shawl at him. The blood flies in an arc and you paint Chisei with it, like Jackson Pollock flinging paint on a canvas. It splashes up and down his white shirt and dark pants. “His blood…” You breathe the words in and out in fury. “His blood is red!”

Chisei looks down and palms the stain on his shirt. It was crimson without a trace of black.

“Chance was still fighting! He didn't give up! He didn’t die because it was hopeless. He died because you gave up on him!” You fling the shawl at him again.

Chisei flinches away from the rain of blood. His expression relaxes and the cold emotionless look returns to his eyes. He turns his back to you. “MC. You’re still wanted by the Executive Board. But… if you run… I’ll give you a head start.”

You gasp in disbelief at such bold insensitivity. The remorselessness struck you colder than the rain. However, the shock reminds you that there’s no point in fighting once the person you love is gone. Instead, you remove the gold chains from Chance's neck and give him one last lingering look. He looks like he’s sleeping peacefully there in the rain. You hold the chains tight to yourself and dash away towards the gate. You clear it in a single bound and disappear into the night.

#Dragon Raja

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tirednerd2012 · 3 years

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Maybe one where Ian and Barley have been kidnapped and they want to hurt Barley, but Ian offers himself in Barley's place so they take him instead? And while they're hurting Ian, Barley breaks free and has to go save him? (I know you've written a lot already, though, so if you want to you can delete this post.)

WARNING: Abusive relationship mentioned.

First off, I will never delete any requests unless it involves something that truly makes me uncomfortable. I'm recovering from some hospital time and I'm bored, so I really don't mind. If anything this is helping me go to sleep. I enjoyed writing this one, though! This AU character I've been working on for a minute for a different series I was thinking about uploading. I was thinking about a quest, but this one came a little easier for me to write. I hope you like it, but if you would like it changed, let me know!

Dammit, Barley thought, as he woke up with a splitting headache. When he tried to get up, he realized he was tied up. That woke him right up and he heard a groaning beside him. Ian.

He looked over and saw his little brother's forehead bleeding slightly. He tried to break free from the ropes, but couldn't. What the hell was going on? What happened last?

"Ian, are you okay?" he asked, but only got another groan. "I'll get us out of here, don't worry."

"I wouldn't be sure about that," a familiar voice said and Barley's blood ran cold. Drew. They broke up about a month prior because Drew wasn't just jealous and controlling, he was dangerous. He would hit Barley when they were arguing, threatened him, did anything to make him feel like Drew had dominance. Barley started to wonder if his mom and brother were safe when his boyfriend was around, and he knew he had to shut that down. He still had nightmares of Drew's hands on his neck when they were fighting one day and Barley was too drunk to defend himself. He hadn't drank since.

Drew was taller than Barley, but not quite as burly as him. Though he didn't look it, he was strong. He could easily overpower Barley when they fought. His dark hair was rare for an elf, and it was one of the things Barley found attractive at the beginning of their relationship.

He should have known this would come back and bite him in the ass.

"Drew, what are you doing?" he asked, trying to keep his cool. His ex came down from the stairs. A basement, Barley realized. They were definitely in a basement.

"I told you, you can't just leave me. You don't get to decide that," Drew snapped. He picked up his knife from the table nearby and put it to Barley's throat. He tried to hide his terror, but he knew he was probably failing.

Him and Ian had been driving in the van. He remembered a crash, but that was it. Did this guy hit them?

"What do you want?"

"For you to suffer, Barley. I tried to give you another chance, but you've tied my hands. I don't know when you thought you had any say so in us, but you didn't. You are nothing. You don't get to chose who loves you," Drew sneered.

"Leave him alone, you jerk," Ian snapped. When did he wake up?

"Ian," Barley said. He never liked Drew, another reason Barley had to end the relationship. He trusted his brother more than anyone.

"Well, well, if it isn't Ian. Truthfully, I had no idea you were in that van, too, but hey, work with what you have, right?" Drew laughs. His attention turned back to Barley, looking at him with cold, blue eyes that sent a chill down the oldest Lightfoot's spine.

Barley told himself this is how he would die.

"Now, Barley, as I was saying, you need to learn a lesson," Drew said, but before he could cut Barley, Ian's voice cut through everything.

"Leave him alone!" Barley never heard such confidence from Ian before. Drew turned away from Barley and focused his attention to his little brother.

"Wow, Ian, never expected this from you. Tell me, what is your goal here? Why should I spare him after everything he did?" Drew asked.

"Because," Ian paused, as if desperately trying to think of anything to save his brother, "because you can do whatever you planned on doing to him to me instead."

"Ian, no! Stop!" Barley ordered, but it was too late.

Drew's eyes fixated on his brother, then back at him. He saw the panic in his eyes. Anyone who knew Barley knew he loved his brother and mother more than anything in the world. He would take any physical punishment over something happening to Ian. And he wasn't in a position where he could act as the protector.

"You know, Ian, for a bright kid, you sure are stupid. But, we can have some fun," Drew said, finally. He cut Ian free, but before he could do anything, he grabbed a fistful of his hair and looked at Barley. "Enjoy your brother's screams, love."

"I'm going to kill you," Barley snapped. His fear faded away and was replaced with anger. He looked at Drew like the most disgusting thing in the world. "Leave him out of this."

"Where's the fun in that?" Drew teased, and then proceeded to drag Ian up the stairs. His brother tried his hardest not to show any sign of pain or weakness, but Barley could feel it anyway. It seemed like the moment that door shut, wherever they were filled with Ian's screams.

"Ian! Ian!" he called over and over. He felt tears pouring down his face, but he didn't care. Ian was in danger. He had taken Barley's punishment. He was paying for a stupid mistake Barley made. He never should have gotten with Drew. It was a fling that turned into something poisonous and deadly.

He continued to struggle with the ropes. He was so angry he felt the adrenaline coursing through his veins and he slammed his body against the other side, trying to break free. He would kill Drew.

He heard Ian cry out again and tell Drew to get the hell off him. He heard Drew tell Ian that he should prepare himself because he was just getting started.

Why the hell did he have to take Barley's place? The older looked around the room once more and noticed that Drew left some tools on the table. He probably planned on torturing Barley right here, but saw the opportunity to take Ian from him and knew that would be the worst punishment.

He managed to pull the table forward with his foot and then had to struggle and get a pair of scissors in his hand. It took awhile and Ian cried out more. Drew yelled from upstairs that he was worried about Ian losing blood. He heard him tell Ian to scream all he wanted, no one was around to save him.

"You're going to die alone and then I'm going to let your brother see what I've done. I'll tell him everything right before I kill him slower than I've killed you. I want him to relish your death," Drew said once Ian went quiet. Barley's heart raced faster and he managed to cut the rope. He grabbed the scissors and ran up the stairs. The door was locked, but he busted it down no problem. He saw Drew and Ian in a living room. Ian was covered in blood. His flannel had been taken off and revealed cuts along his body. His jeans were torn and soaked with red.

But Ian was alive. He still managed to set up, but Drew yanked him up and held the knife to his throat. He glared at Barley.

"I told you that you didn't get to leave me," he warned.

"Just leave Ian out of this. Let him go. I'll stay if that's what you want. We can be together again, just leave him alone," Barley said. He would stay here forever if it meant saving Ian's life. All he needed to do was get to the van. He had nectar from a healing flower there. He and Ian grabbed it a few weeks ago during a quest and agreed to save it for an emergency.

"You really are useless, huh? You're a shit son and horrible boyfriend and the one person left in this world that loves you and even admires you, you've failed to protect," Drew said. "I could kill him right now, you know that right? I could slit his throat and that would be that. He would be gone. Could you live with that?"

"You know the answer."

"Exactly. Yet I've been up here, putting a scar on his body for each time you rejected me," Drew said, running the knife along Ian's throat. He was barely awake and couldn't even look at Barley. The older felt like he could be sick. He wanted nothing more than to pull Ian out of this nightmare.

"Drew, please. Just tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it," Barley said. He resisted the urge to bring the scissors out of his pocket.

"You'd be willing to stay here to save him?"

"Yes."

Drew dropped Ian. His abuser for months on end, who manipulated him into doing things he didn't want to, who beat him on multiple occasions, who made him feel like he was absolutely nothing, approached him. For a moment, Barley felt paralyzed. Drew walked over and kissed Barley.

He looked over at Ian and again, his fear turned to rage. Within a moment that Barley found to be a blur, he brought the scissors out and stabbed his ex in the chest. He watched his eyes widen with horror and he collapsed. Then he ran to Ian.

His brother was barely breathing.

"Ian? Ian?" he shook his shoulder. The youngest opened his eyes and smiled at the sight of his brother physically unharmed.

"Barley, are you okay?"

"Really? You're worried about me?" Barley asked through the tears. Ian had been around him too long. He lifted him in his arms and got him outside. Drew towed the van with his old truck. He knew damn well Drew thought this plan out. He wanted to be sure no one knew the boys were missing. He got him to the edge of the van and cried in relief when he found the nectar in the jar without a scratch.

He kneeled beside Ian and forced him to drink. Then he held on to him, whispering how much he loved him, how brave he was and that everything was okay. After a few minutes, the wounds healed, but left several scars that Barley imagined would either be there for awhile or the rest of Ian's life.

"Barley?" the younger asked. Barley cried and hugged him again. "I'm so sorry, I just- I wanted you to be okay."

"You scared me, why would you do that?"

"I love you. I get you want to protect me, but I don't want anything to happen to you either. Especially that guy, I mean, I just wanted him away from you. I didn't care if that meant I got hurt."

"Ian, in all seriousness," Barley said, "never take my place like that again."

"Barley."

"No. I can handle a lot, okay? I can take pain, I'll get through it one way or another. But what I can't handle is someone taking you from me; I can't handle losing you," Barley cut in, his voice betraying him and cracking at the last part. He placed his hands on his shoulders. Both of them still had tears in their eyes. "I-I thought I lost you. I was so scared."

"I know what Drew did to you, Barley. I couldn't let that happen again. If the roles were reversed, we both know you would have done the same."

He pulled his brother into a tight hug. He placed a hand in his hair and held him close.

"All that matters is you're safe. He can't hurt you again."

Barley made himself a promise that he would never let anything hurt Ian again.

#barley lightfoot #ian lightfoot #onward #onward pixar #ian #barley

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wolf08 · 4 years

Text

Igniting the Fuse

A fic for @zutaraweek

Summary: Zuko can’t stand Katara’s obvious contempt towards him. Determined to fix their relationship, he asks Aang and Sokka for help, who, in turn, devise a series of team building exercises with the intention of sparking friendship between the water bender and the banished Prince. They hadn’t anticipated sparking something more. Pre- (and post-) Southern Raiders. Zutara.

Available on A03 and FanFiction.net.

Prompt: Loosely inspired by the prompt “Fuse” (Zutara Week 2020) Genre: Romance/Humour Words: 4293 Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender or any of its characters.

A/N: Hi! Please accept my humble offering to the ATLA fandom for Zutara week. :) I’ve only ever written fics for the Naruto verse, but I just finished ATLA last month and have been fangirling about Zutara and the Gaang dynamics ever since. When I learned that Zutara week was just around the corner, I just knew I had to write something. Enjoy. :)

***

Igniting the Fuse

Now that he was part of the group of vagabond do-gooders (who he used to think were his sworn enemies), Zuko felt a sense of contentment and purpose like he’d never felt before.

It had been an excruciating uphill battle filled with awkward encounters and blows exchanged to finally convince them that he was on their side. But he’d persevered because Zuko just knew he was destined to be here, with them, to support their quest of defeating his father.

Thankfully, in the end, they accepted him.

Well, all except for the water bender, that is.

Katara, the last water bender from the Southern Water Tribe, who had the biggest heart and kindest smile that Zuko had ever seen, utterly despised him.

She made no effort to hide this fact, with how she always sat as far away from him as possible, sneered at his (attempted) jokes, and ignored him point-blank whenever he spoke.

As the Fire Nation’s banished Prince with a prominent scar on his face marking him as such, Zuko wasn’t unfamiliar with this type of treatment. But what made it different with Katara was that (a) she was avoiding him out of pure dislike – not fear (hell, he’d faced her in combat before and knew she could hold her own against him), and (b) it was Katara.

Why did it have to be her who hated him, of all people? She was level-headed, compassionate, and strong, in other words, she was an embodiment of everything that Zuko wished he himself could be.

And, not to mention, she was rather easy on the eyes and nice to be in the presence of (though, of course, Zuko would never dare admit this out loud).

Perhaps the worst part of all of this was that Zuko knew her hatred was justified. After she’d let her guard down in the catacombs of Ba Sing Se by confiding in him and offering to use her few drops of sacred water to heal Zuko’s scar (a gesture that Zuko would never ever forget), Zuko had responded by siding with her enemy and trying to kill her.

So, yeah, Katara had every right not to trust him ever again.

But that didn’t mean Zuko wasn’t going to give it his best shot anyways. After all, he was a changed man now. He was determined to reconcile for his sins. Earning Katara’s trust wasn’t just something he wanted – it was something he needed to fulfill his personal quest for redemption.

Not that Zuko had a clue where to begin.

After numerous fruitless attempts to force an interaction with her around camp like some school boy trying to get a girl’s attention, Zuko realized he needed help fixing his relationship with Katara.

He cast a wistful glance at Katara’s tent before turning towards the sea, where Aang and Sokka were currently fishing.

Zuko sighed and ran a hand through his shaggy, black hair. Despite being a little weird, Aang and Sokka were the most helpful sources of information around, with one of them being Katara’s brother and the other being, well, the Avatar. So he slipped off his shoes, hiked up his pants, and waded out to meet them.

Their fishing tactics were a rather theatrical sight, with Anng literally blowing fish out of the water with some air bending technique and Sokka spearing them as they flung into the air.

Zuko cleared his throat.

Aang, who was wearing nothing but his orange underpants, beamed at the sight of him. “Zuko! Have you come to help us fish?” he asked. “It’s not really my thing, but Sokka needed a hand.”

Zuko shook his head, folded his arms, and proceeded to explain his dilemma. The other boys listened attentively.

“Have you tried being, well, nice to her?” Sokka asked with raised eyebrows. “Katara likes everyone. It shouldn’t be that hard to get on her good side.”

Zuko rolled his eyes. “Of course I’ve tried being nice! But I guess I just suck at it.”

After a moment of deep thought, Aang’s eyes lit up. “I’ve got it!” he said, clapping his hands together. “We’ll do team building exercises to foster trust. When Katara sees that you can trust each other, I’m sure she’ll like you more.”

But Zuko wasn’t entirely convinced. “This isn’t Air Temple preschool, you know,” he grumbled.

“No, no, I think Aang’s onto something here,” Sokka said with a smirk. “No offense dude, but your social skills suck. Structured ice-breakers are exactly what you need.”

“What? My social skills don’t suck!” Zuko shot back, but Sokka just shook his head, still smirking.

Then, in a deep, mocking tone, Sokka said, “Hello! Zuko here. I sent an assassin after you. Can we be friends?”

Aang covered his mouth to stifle a laugh.

Zuko’s eyebrow twitched, his face burning. “Okay, fine. Let’s try your stupid team building then.”

“Great!” said Aang. “Let’s start after lunch. We’ll handle everything Zuko, so don’t you worry about a thing.”

***

In an effort to gain Katara’s support for their day of team building, Aang and Sokka selected an activity that she was sure to enjoy for the first exercise: surfing lessons – an activity that was, quite literally, right in Katara’s element.

It wasn’t a bad idea, Zuko admitted and side-eyeing Katara’s enthusiastic response to Aang’s proposal of the activity. Her blue eyes were brighter than he’d ever seen them.

Shortly after, the four of them, with the additions of Toph and Suki, were gathered around the shore, with the girls in their swimming attire (cropped shirts and shorts for all but Katara, who wore a white skirt overtop) and the boys in their shorts. Then, Sokka explained that there would be no surf boards.

“No surf boards? How’s that supposed to work for surfing?” Toph asked, voicing Zuko’s concerns.

Katara stood, a smile on her face. “I’ll bend the water to make you float – you’ve just got to balance,” she said. Toph raised her eyebrows and crinkled her nose and Zuko made every effort to refrain from making the same face.

The water bender proceeded to demonstrate. With her feet pressed to the rolling waves as if she were on a solid surface, she jumped and glided in a shower of water droplets, her arms outstretched, like she was sliding through snow or sand. In a way, it looked like she was dancing, Zuko observed, and he wondered if he could really do that too, so effortlessly.

The demonstration came to the end and Katara approached the group. “All right – who’s first?” she asked cheerily, while wringing water from her thick, brown hair.

Zuko avoided eye contact.

“I’ll go!” Suki beamed and hopping to her feet.

And said Kyoshi warrior, despite not being a water bender, made it look rather easy too, in Zuko’s opinion, his confidence boosting ever so slightly. Suki jumped and twirled on the water, laughing the entire time, clearly having a blast. Sokka wolf whistled as Suki neared the shore at the end of her turn. She met his eyes and blushed before leaping into his arms with a big smile.

Zuko watched the interaction from the corner of his eye and wondered if he could ever get Katara to feel that comfortable around him.

Yeah right.

Aang went next and he glided over the water with ease (though it was hard to tell if he was truly surfing or floating over the waves with air bending). Even Toph took a short turn, despite her obvious discomfort over being parted with solid ground.

“Zuko’s turn!” Aang exclaimed after everyone had gone, like he was afraid Katara would forget about him.

Zuko caught her gaze and was met with an icy stare. More like she doesn’t want me to have a turn.

He got to his feet and sloshed through the shallow water before turning to the group in anticipation.

With mixed emotions, he noticed that Katara was smiling at him now, her eyes bright once more. What’s with the sudden mood change? he wondered while returning the smile with much hesitation.

Then Katara raised her arms and he was off.

“Whoa!” he gasped, arms outstretched for balance, while the water carried him upwards and backwards, towards the sea. He pivoted and widened his stance for stability, while he adjusted to the strange sensation of a rapidly rolling current against his bare feet, and his total loss of control over where he was going.

Despite this, before long, Zuko began to relax, leaning into the waves’ winding motions, feeling a thrill with each dip and jump, as he climbed higher and higher and farther out to sea.

And then – SPLOOSH!

Like a rug being tugged from beneath his feet, the water supporting Zuko vanished, falling back to the sea – along with said fire bender.

He fell into the water in a rather undignified manner, limbs flailing. When he came up for air, spluttering, to his displeasure, just about everyone was doubled-over laughing.

Zuko gritted his teeth as he swam towards shore, glaring at the mischievous water bender.

“Oops,” she said with a shrug, though she didn’t look the least bit sorry.

Well that was a flop… literally, Zuko thought with a grimace as he trudged along the beach and shook water from his soaked hair.

Aang had the decency to try to look apologetic though tears were streaming down his face.

***

“The next activity better not end like that,” Zuko hissed when the boys regrouped. “How about we try something where she has to trust me this time? Because clearly the other way around doesn’t work.”

“Hm. Maybe you can teach everyone something. What are you good at Zuko?” Sokka asked.

“Fire bending.”

“Well, you can’t exactly teach everyone fire bending.”

“Oh, I know!” Aang piped up. “Zuko isn’t a bad dancer. He nailed the Dancing Dragon formation.”

Zuko dismissed the suggestion immediately. “That wasn’t a dance! And you’re out of your mind if you think I’d ever teach dancing lessons.”

A moment of silence passed while all three boys contemplated their next move.

“It’s probably best if I don’t hire another assassin and like… save her from it. Right?”

“Yes, Zuko. Best we table that idea.”

***

Zuko felt a little more confident about the second activity that Aang and Sokka planned for the group.

“We’re going rock climbing!” Aang exclaimed and gesturing to the ropes and makeshift pulleys he and Sokka had fastened to the cliff side earlier. For the most part, in Zuko’s opinion, this activity far exceeded the last because he and Katara would be on relatively even footing as far as their bending was concerned.

“Everybody partner up!” Sokka instructed. “I call working with Suki!”

“And I call Toph!” Aang shouted, which garnered suspicious looks from both Toph and Katara. “I thought we could work on our teamwork?” he added to the earth bender sheepishly.

Toph smirked. “Whatever you say, Twinkletoes. Gosh, I’m popular, huh?”

Through narrowed eyes, Katara directed her attention to the person she was evidently stuck with.

Zuko tried his hardest to seem friendly, though he was suddenly uncharacteristically nervous. “You can go first, if you want,” he offered.

Katara lifted an eyebrow. After a moment, she said, “All right then,” and turned towards the cliff, her braided hair flipping over her shoulder as she did.

The rock climbing ensued, with Toph practically flying up the wall while she bended parts of the cliff side to jut out like stairs. Momo was doing quite well himself from a little further down, not even holding onto the rope, though Appa dutifully spotted him anyways.

Despite not having any distinct advantages, Suki flourished in this activity too, scaling the wall like a ninja. “Atta girl, Suki!” Sokka cheered on from below. She responded with a glowing smile at her rock climbing partner.

Zuko turned his attention to his own rock climbing partner, who was faring well, though not quite as well as the other climbers. Her movements were a little clumsy and she clung to the rope and handholds like her life depended on it. After all, with each step she climbed, the water bender ventured farther away from the comfort of the sea behind them.

There was no way Zuko would let her fall though, considering the death grip he had on her rope. He needed to prove he was the most trustworthy rock climbing partner she could ever have.

Taking a page out of Sokka’s book, Zuko decided to egg his partner on. “You’re doing great!” he called.

Unfortunately, his comment prompted an icy glare. “Are you mocking me?” Katara snapped, as she freed her blue sleeve from a protruding twig that had snagged it.

“No...,” Zuko snarled through gritted teeth.

This is impossible! I can’t even compliment Katara without her getting mad!

She proceeded to climb in silence without sparing him a glance, and Zuko couldn’t think of what to say, so he just sighed and frowned in her general direction.

How on earth was this activity supposed to bring them closer together now?

She’s probably clinging to the rope for dear life because she doesn’t trust me to stop her from falling, Zuko thought with a scowl.

But then he was struck with a brilliant (and morally questionable) idea.

What if Katara’s rope were severed… for some reason… and Zuko caught her?

Now, Zuko was no expert, but saving someone from falling seemed like the ultimate gesture of trust if you asked him.

Surely Aang and Sokka would disprove if Zuko deliberately severed Katara’s rope, but she was maybe only twenty feet up – so surely, even if she did fall, she’d survive.

Before Zuko had properly thought through his plan, he’d sent a barely discernible fireball – no more than a small collection of sparks – up the cliff side. It went undetected by the others, who were focused on their rock climbing tasks.

With the softest of hisses, the fire made contact with the rope about ten feet above Katara’s head. The rope began to fray immediately but no one seemed to notice. Until –

“Whoa!” Katara exclaimed as the rope started to give. She clawed for the nearest handhold and gripped it firmly while looking around with wide eyes.

Now, Zuko thought, dropping the rope and racing towards the cliff.

By now the others were catching on to Katara’s predicament.

“Oh no, careful Katara!” called Aang.

“Hold on!” cried Suki.

“Just drop!” Zuko shouted from below, his arms outstretched. “Don’t worry – I’ll catch you!”

Katara peered down at him, like she was mentally calculating the risk of doing what he asked. When she met his eye, Zuko felt a swell of anticipation for a reason he couldn’t quite place.

Then, something determined entered Katara’s eyes and she directed her gaze beyond him, towards the sea.

The rope snapped and Katara began to fall.

Zuko braced himself for the impact, his arms at the ready.

I won’t let you down!

And then – WHOOSH!

Zuko faced an impact but it wasn’t the one he was expecting.

An aggressive current of water slammed straight into Zuko’s legs, knocking him off his feet.

“What?” he gasped as he lost his footing, toppled sideways, and fell to his back. Spluttering, he watched in disbelief as Katara bended a neat stream of water through the air, stepped into it, and directed it towards the ground to safety. She landed beside Zuko with a splash – soaking him from head to toe.

Katara straightened up and regained her composure, brushing off the front of her blue dress, as the water drifted back out to sea.

She turned to Zuko like she was just noticing him for the first time. “Oh!” she said while extending her hand. “You okay down there?” she asked, eyebrows raised and the slightest mischievous glint in her eye.

Zuko accepted her offer to help him up, but didn’t have it in him to celebrate the kind gesture – he was far too embarrassed and couldn’t meet her eye.

As soon as he was on his feet, he retreated and stomped away. “I’m fine,” he growled while shaking water out of his hair for the second time that day.

***

“The next team building exercise will be different. We’ll use our words this time,” Aang decided during a brief rendezvous with Sokka and Zuko.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Zuko asked, eyebrow raised.

“You’ll see – I’ve got a plan. Just make sure you’re sitting beside Katara when we gather round the campfire after dinner. Trust me.” He patted Zuko’s shoulder and flashed him what he probably thought was a reassuring smile, but given their track record with team building exercises thus far, Zuko didn’t feel so confident.

“Fine,” he said anyways because he didn’t have anything to lose.

***

True to his word, after the sun had set, bellies were full, and Aang had summoned everyone to the campfire, Zuko claimed the spot beside Katara, even though he had to wrestle Toph in the process of squeezing in between them.

Katara gave Zuko a weird look and motioned to get up.

He grabbed her sleeve. “Wait – stay here,” he said before he could think better of it (and immediately regretting the motion).

She startled and opened her mouth to respond, but thankfully, Aang chose that moment to command everyone’s attention and start the activity. Zuko released a breath.

It turned out the activity was rather simple. Each person was required to share a compliment about the person on their right – and once everyone had a turn, they were to repeat the exercise in the other direction.

Zuko was skeptical about the cheesy activity having any effect on his relationship with Katara but he figured he might as well try.

He frowned and glanced at Katara, who was on his right, noticing the firelight dancing in her blue eyes. He would have to share a compliment with her first.

I’ve got one shot so I need to think of something good, Zuko mused while absently bending the flames from the campfire into little loops.

His first thought was to comment on her water bending, which was quite good as far as he’d seen. But would that just remind her of the times she’d used her water bending against him?

Then what could he say about her to get her to like him?

It was Sokka’s turn to pay a compliment to Suki.

He turned to the brunette Kyoshi warrior with a wide smile and an arched eyebrow, and said, smoothly, “Suki, you are as radiant as the sunset.”

Suki’s face lit up and her lips curved into a shy smile. “Oh, Sokka,” she sighed and shoving his arm lightly, in a friendly, teasing manner.

That’s it! That’s the reaction I want from Katara, Zuko thought, his chest tightening at the very prospect of it, but would complimenting her physical appearance have that effect on her? He wasn’t sure.

By the time Zuko tuned back in to the activity, Aang was telling Toph that she was the most terrifying girl he’d ever met.

Zuko watched the exchange in anticipation for surely the earth bender would take offense to the remark. But instead, she punched Aang’s arm and beamed. “Thanks, Twinkletoes!”

Would Katara want to be called terrifying? Honestly, Zuko thought she was the farthest thing from terrifying (unless she was really angry). No, Azula was terrifying. And Katara was… well, not like Azula.

Toph turned to Zuko next, gazing up at him with a cheeky smile. “Oh, this is easy. Thanks for the entertainment in the water today. I haven’t laughed that hard in weeks!”

Zuko bristled with anger for a moment, but when he realized everyone was chuckling, and he remembered that he would much rather them find him funny than evil, he swallowed his pride and smiled. “You’re welcome,” he mumbled.

“Okay, Zuko’s turn!” Aang prompted, and then, suddenly, everyone was starting at him expectantly.

Zuko swallowed. “Okay,” he said before turning towards Katara, whose arms were folded and was watching him from the corner of her eye.

Here goes, Zuko thought. He said the first thing that popped into his head, inspired by Sokka’s earlier success.

“You’re… as beautiful as the… ocean?”

Now, Zuko wasn’t sure what reaction he was expecting, but, strangely, no one seemed to react at all. In fact, the entire group was eerily silent, their eyes trained on him, including Katara’s.

Suddenly, Zuko felt nervous. I did something wrong, didn’t I?

He turned towards Sokka for support, but only then, to Zuko’s horror, did he notice that Sokka and Suki’s hands were clasped together.

Is Suki his… girlfriend?

That hadn’t occurred to Zuko, honestly. He’d dismissed the idea because surely Suki was too good for the guy.

But maybe he was wrong. Maybe they were so close because they were dating. And maybe, by mimicking Sokka’s behaviour, Zuko had inadvertently suggested that he wanted to date Katara.

He felt his face heat up.

I could use some of Uncle’s calming tea right about now.

Then, Katara was on her feet. She avoided eye-contact when she growled, “Really? Don’t have anything to say about my abilities, do you? I’m just some damsel in distress to you, huh?”

And then she stormed off, effectively ending the team building exercise. Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

I should have just called her terrifying.

He followed her.

***

Katara was perched on a rock near the ledge of the cliff, overlooking the sea and star-sprinkled night sky. She was hugging her knees and her shoulders were slumped.

Zuko approached with caution. “Hi,” he said when he was within earshot.

Katara glanced at him and turned away quickly.

He sighed.

Why do I suck at everything?

“Um, let me try the compliment thing again,” Zuko mumbled, not sure how much Katara was paying attention to him but going for it anyways. “My uncle taught me how to control lightning using the principles of water bending. I never really thought about water bending much, but since then, and since I saw what you can do, now I appreciate it more. It’s a… beautiful ability. And it’s strong. Like you.

“And that’s… what I’m trying to say.”

Katara glanced at him again, and to his relief, there was something kinder in her eyes.

This encouraged him to continue. “And I’m sorry for everything I did before. Please tell me how to make it up to you because I’m trying but I don’t know what I’m doing.”

After a moment, Katara’s lips curled into the smallest of smiles. She turned towards the sea. “You could reconquer Ba Sing Se in the name of the Earth King. Or bring my mother back,” she said sadly with a humourless chuckle, like what she was proposing was ridiculous. She buried her face into her knees.

Later that evening, after a brief consultation with Sokka about the story of his mother’s death, Zuko made plans for what would end up being the most effective team building exercise yet.

***

Many days later, Zuko found himself standing on a dock overlooking the ocean and a sunset painting the sky a glowing medley of pinks and oranges.

He had just returned to camp after a long trek with Katara to track down her mother’s killer, with the intention of executing revenge, but Katara ended up sparing him in the end – while still finding the closure she needed.

Zuko had learned more about Katara’s motivations and abilities on the trip, including her impressive repertoire of water bending feats.

To put it frankly, Zuko had no shortage of compliments to give her if they ever played that campfire circle game again.

And now that he understood Katara better he was filled with hope that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t hate him anymore. Though he wasn’t completely sure.

Katara was sitting at the end of the dock with her toes dipped in the water. Aang was beside her and speaking about the importance of forgiveness.

She got to her feet and faced the two of them. “Thanks Aang, but I didn’t forgive him. I’ll never forgive him.”

And then she turned towards Zuko, a smile blossoming on her face. Zuko’s breath caught in his throat.

“But you,” she said and drawing closer, “I am willing to forgive.”

Before he knew quite what was happening, Katara pulled him into a tight hug. Zuko was startled at first – hardly able to believe what was happening.

I did it! he thought in awe, thinking back to how envious he had been of Suki jumping into Sokka’s arms on the beach.

He smiled in spite of himself and returned the hug with equal enthusiasm, his heart racing.

But then, abruptly, Katara retreated. She stared at Zuko from a short distance away, looking positively radiant in the light of the sunset. A strange expression crossed her features. Embarrassment? Anxiousness? Zuko wasn’t sure. But then –

“I’m not flirting or anything, you know,” she said.

Not… what?

Katara seemed to remember that her hands were still on Zuko’s shoulders and pulled them back quickly. “I forgive you and that’s – that’s it!”

Zuko was still processing her words when she scurried past him, down the dock.

He gaped at her retreating form. “What was that about?” he asked.

Aang, who had been hanging back from the exchange, approached. One of his eyebrows was distinctly twitching. “Well, after the team building exercise around the campfire, everyone thinks that you… well, you know.”

Oh.

Zuko put his head in his hands, face burning. Something told him he was going to need a lot of help, and maybe even a new round of team building exercises, to figure out this new development in his and Katara’s relationship.

#zutara week 2020 #zutara week #zutara #zutara fanfiction #atla fanfic #zuko #atla #wolf08fic #my first atla fic #loved every second writing this

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unsteadygalaxy · 4 years

Text

all is soft inside chapter 12

a miragehound multichapter fanfiction

Also posted on Ao3, my username is the same there!

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12. give me a piece of your heart

A quick note: I have the Pathfinder's Quest book and I finished it today (Feb 2nd 2021)! It was mind-blowing and amazing and SO, SO GOOD. Unfortunately, this fic can no longer fit into canon because of what we find out about Bloodhound. Don't worry, I won't be spoiling! I had a story set up for them before I read the lore book, and that's the story I'll be sticking to. Maybe one day I'll write some canon things, but for now, this story is no longer canon-compliant. Part of me is sad to have all the answers, but hey! That's what makes canon-divergent fics so fun :)

Elliott practically flies down the street towards the Legends’ apartment complex, bursting with nervousness and energy as he goes. The torrential downpour of rain doesn’t even manage to dampen his mood; he’s got a heavy-duty umbrella and an upbeat attitude that could make the skies clear up in moments. Bloodhound’s proposition hangs in his head, and he clings to it with an embarrassing neediness. ‘Would you like to visit me in my apartment later this evening?’ they had asked, and he thought his heart would burst out of his chest. He feels like a dumbass for the way he had reacted- god, he was so lame. Falling over his words, making the simplest mistakes… What fourteen year old in the area had reached out and possessed him? Whoever it was, he’d have to have a strong talk with them later.

After arriving back to his apartment above the bar, he’d scrubbed himself clean and very meticulously arranged his hair. He’d eventually chosen a deep purple sweater over a light blue button down, a pair of his nicer dark jeans, a black belt, and sneakers to wear for the evening. He’d hemmed and hawed in front of the mirror for at least twenty minutes, rolling and unrolling his sleeves, second guessing each outfit choice he made until he settled. He had decided to keep the sleeves rolled up, but the easy confidence he usually has in himself has chosen to take a pointed leave of absence.

Elliott really does feel like a teenager obsessing over their first date all over again, but he has to remind himself it’s not a date, it’s just a talk. A nice evening in. A nice evening alone with Bloodhound. His cheeks blaze, and the enormity of his crush on them plummets onto his head all at once.

Ahh, shit.

He finally lets his thoughts race and wander while thinking about them. For the first time in days, he lets himself linger on his memories of their face, though the quick glimpse he had gotten had not left him with much to remember. Their gorgeous red hair, their piercing green eyes, the striking contours of their face… They are so beautiful, and he would do anything to see their face again.

A giddy smile crosses his face when he thinks of all the times they’ve touched him on the arm or on the shoulder, or held his hands so softly. They had exuded kindness and compassion in those moments, the genuineness of which Elliott has not truly felt in a while. Bloodhound’s quiet vulnerability in the bar the other night had struck him as both odd and humbling; their increasing trust in him is something he definitely doesn’t want to take for granted.

The complex comes into view and Elliott’s heart starts to pound harder in his chest. It takes a great deal of effort to not run all the way to their door… until he realizes he doesn’t know which floor is theirs, much less which door.

Bzzt! His phone vibrates in his back pocket, and he jumps a little before retrieving it. A message from an unknown number is emblazoned across the lock screen:

Second floor, number 14.

-BH

Excitement and happiness surges through his veins, and he immediately saves their contact information. God, is he really that pumped about having their number? A big stupid smile stretches across his face, and he wants to smack himself. Chill, Elliott, chill. You’ve gotta get ahold of yourself before you get up there. He takes a deep breath and sends a quick reply to Bloodhound as he continues down the sidewalk, valiantly avoiding the puddles.

Nearly there! How’d you get my number?

A reply flashes through faster than he thought it would.

Renee owed me a favor. I hope it is all right that I asked her.

Oh, yeah, that’s fine! No problem :)

He has to physically restrain himself from adding a little heart; Renee or Octavio or Makoa were used to his nonsense, but he figures Bloodhound would only find it strange for him to be adding those things to his texts right off the bat. He’s busy smiling off into space when his phone vibrates again.

I am looking forward to seeing you.

Elliott’s heart practically explodes in his chest, and he steps right into a puddle.

------

Bloodhound can’t stay still.

Ever since those traitorous words had fallen from their mouth, they’d been on red alert, their brain and body a hopeless torrent of conflicting emotions that hadn’t quite settled. They think it’s fitting that it is raining; it seems the Allfather is showing his sympathies in the smallest of ways. The rain patters against the windows in a steady rhythm, and under any other circumstance it would have been very calming. They would have shed the mask and goggles and snuggled into the couch with a book and a cup of tea, but tonight, that isn’t an option. Instead, they’re wandering aimlessly around their apartment- cleaning corners that don’t really need to be cleaned, tending to Artur, and sipping at a glass of water every time they walk by the kitchen.

They’d hopped into the shower immediately after arriving home and cleaned every inch of their skin with an annoying attention to detail. Their anxiety had mounted in their chest until they had had to sit on the cold tiles of the shower with their head between their legs. Everything is going to be fine, they’d repeated to themself over and over again. Elliott would never hurt you.

The thought is ironic because of the stubborn headache at the base of their skull- Boone’s pain medicine had done little to abate the throbbing in their neck. As they think back on their day, they feel a surge of pride for Elliott. It seems that he is finally allowing himself to succeed, instead of limiting himself like he had before. He had truly surprised them today. Where they had once seen hesitation and worry, it had been replaced with deadly precision and focus, and Bloodhound would not change the outcome of the match even if they could. Elliott had been a wonderful sight to behold.

The frantic fear is nearly gone, but it lingers just enough to make them a little self-conscious. Opting not to wear their Games attire, they’ve picked a thick turtleneck, fitted cargo pants, woolen socks, and a slimmer pair of gloves that will hide their hands but not hinder any movement. The mask is laid on the table, ready to be put on at a moment’s notice. They’re already wearing the helmet, their goggles, and the leather cap. They’ve always hated having to pile wet hair under the hood, but their plans left them no choice. Bloodhound hasn’t cared much about their physical appearance in years, but for some reason, the idea of being alone with Elliott again makes them want to hide away in embarrassment.

An eager knock at the door startles Bloodhound, and they very nearly knock over their glass.

Their heart starts pumping in their chest, and their fingers fumble a little as they clip the respirator to the cap. Immediately, their breathing comes easier, and they scold themself for going so long without it this evening. Bloodhound makes their way to the door and opens it, revealing an absolutely drenched Elliott holding a broken umbrella in one hand and a pair of sopping wet sneakers in the other.

“Hey! I, uh, definitely stepped in a ton of puddles on the way here. I usually watch where I’m going but these ones were sac- ski- scattered everywhere, so I couldn’t see them at all, and then of course the wind picked up and shredded my umbrella, so I’m totally soaked.” He shrugs helplessly and shakes the bent umbrella off a little, showering Bloodhound’s feet with droplets of water. “Ah, shit. Sorry!”

They shake their head at him and sigh, and a shiver goes through their body as they think about being drenched in this weather. “It is of no consequence, Elliott, I can very easily change socks. Please, come in,” they say, and they lead him into their apartment.

They try not to look at him as he takes in their apartment, suddenly insecure about how simple and bare it looks. The apartment had come furnished, but it is not quite to their tastes. Bloodhound prefers a more homey and warm feel, not the modern, sleek look that is so popular these days. The windows in the living room are quite large. Bloodhound had had a tinted effect added to them immediately- for their anonymity and so the light coming in would not be quite so harsh on their sensitive eyes. The furnishings are a combination of aesthetically pleasing colors and fabrics, all tones of white or grey or brown. A couple of plush blankets are draped over the back of the couch, and minimalistic frames are hung on the walls, great white voids containing typeface quotes and old cliches. The fireplace is an inordinate monolith of dark stone, and if Bloodhound had thought of it, they would have started a fire to make it seem less dull and boring. The thought occurs to them that they should have made this place more welcoming, but they are not vain enough to care in the long run. After all, will Elliott even want to return after he receives the answers to his questions? Bloodhound thinks not.

“Wow,” Elliott remarks, leaning his umbrella against the wall by the door. “It’s so clean.” He strips off his socks and rolls up his pants a little so the soggy ends aren’t rubbing around his ankles. The cuffs fit tightly around his very sculpted calves, and Bloodhound blushes before looking away pointedly.

“This space is not to my tastes,” they reply, watching him walk around. “My real home is much more notalegt- cozy- and warm. Not cold and unfeeling like this place is.”

“Your real home?” he asks, glancing at them. “You don’t live in the Legends complexes full time?”

“I stay in the buildings during the on season, but during the off season, I retreat to a modest cabin in the woods,” they explain, and they realize they’ve made their first confession of the night. That... wasn’t so bad. “There are bookshelves from floor to ceiling, a large fireplace, plenty of furs to keep warm, and a view that would take your breath away. I quite enjoy it.”

“That sounds amazing,” he grins. That smile… Bloodhound has to take a deep breath.

“Maybe I will show you one day,” they say, surprising themself with how easily they offer. “It is a beautiful place, and I think you would like it.”

“Really?” he asks, surprised. “You’d, uh… you’d let me go with you?”

“Perhaps,” they murmur, and their heart starts to beat hard in their chest again. They notice he’s still carrying his wet shoes and socks, and they move to take them from him. “Here. Let me start a fire. Your shoes and socks will be dry in no time.”

“Oh, thank you!” he replies cheerily, and the smile he gives them makes their heart skip a beat. They take the soggy items from him, cringing a bit at the questionable texture, and set them on the mantle for a moment. Overly aware of how closely he’s watching them, they kneel down, turn the gas knob, and light the fire quickly. In moments, a rosy glow emanates from the fireplace and Bloodhound pulls the screens over to eliminate any chance of Elliott’s things going up in flames. They reach up and place the shoes and socks on a small rack in front of the fire, and then they stand and retreat to their room for a moment.

Before long, they return to the living room wearing a fresh pair of socks and carrying a pair for Elliott. “Here,” they say, holding them out to him. “So your feet are not cold. It can be drafty in here when it rains.”

A pink tinge comes to his cheeks, and he accepts them hesitantly. “You’re way too nice,” he grumbles quietly as he sinks down onto the couch. He puts them on and then pushes his floppy wet hair out of his face. “Hey, can I borrow your hair dryer?” he asks, giving them a questioning glance.

“I… do not own one,” they reply, face burning. “Mine gave out a few weeks ago and I have not yet had time to buy another.”

To their surprise, he grins widely and looks away, suddenly very focused on the fire. “That’s all right,” he says, and his voice is curiously flustered. “I can just sit in front of the fireplace for a bit. You’re about to see the fluffiest hair the Outlands has to offer.” He laughs and rolls his eyes, raking his hands through his messy mop.

The thought of Elliott with an untamed mess of curly hair makes them smile like a lovesick teenager, and they’re so, so glad they’re still wearing the mask. “So your hair is not perfect all the time?” they tease, sitting down on the couch next to him. They leave a respectable distance between them, but the distance is smaller than it would have been two or three weeks ago. “Ah, so he does have a flaw. Artur, can you believe it?”

They look to Artur’s perch where the bird has been sleeping peacefully throughout all of this. The bird shakes his beak and gives a soft caw before shuffling along his branch, completely ignoring Bloodhound. They shake their head at him. Unhelpful creature, they think affectionately.

Elliott scoffs and says, “Psh, no! I’m absolutely fal- flo- fu- perfect. My hair just has a life of its own sometimes.” He flips his hair to the opposite side and gives Bloodhound a ridiculously goofy expression. It takes everything in them to not burst out laughing, and they would have given him a deadpan expression if they could.

“Like your aim with an R-99, then,” they reply, keeping their voice as even as possible.

His mouth drops open, but he’s smiling. “Wh-What? Was that a joke? Did you actually just tell a joke?” A huge, incredulous laugh escapes his throat and he grabs his chest, and Bloodhound almost loses it. “That’s a little unfair though, considering how I absolutely lasered you today.”

It’s Bloodhound’s turn to laugh, and their face hurts from how much they’ve smiled lately. “You are correct, Elliott,” they admit, holding their hands up in a placating gesture. “I was very impressed with your skill this morning. Your precision and focus made you a formidable opponent, and I was honored to fight with you.”

Instead of the cocky, arrogant response they have come to expect from him, Elliott actually blushes. It is a welcome change; his cheeks turn a lovely shade of red and he looks away, biting his lip. “Thanks,” he says simply, and his voice is… bashful?

Bloodhound does not quite know what to make of that.

------

His face burns fiercely and he can’t meet their eyes. He loves getting praise from his fans and from his friends, but getting praised by Bloodhound somehow means so much more. Maybe it’s because they’re so skilled, or maybe it’s because he respects them the most out of any other Legend, but such high compliments coming from them renders him a little speechless.

“Hey, I know this is dumb since we’re paid to kill each other, but, um… Sorry about today,” he says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. “Taking an entire clip of ammo to the head always gives you a nasty headache.”

Bloodhound huffs quietly, and Elliott takes that to be a soft laugh. “Do not worry, vinur minn. I am perfectly fine. It was simply the Allfather’s will for me to lose today, and I am not offended.”

Elliott lets out a small chuckle, relieved. “Well, that’s good to know. I was worried I might have broken your mask.”

They tap their mask firmly, and it makes a solid thunk sound. “You see? Perfectly fine,” they reply, and Elliott can hear the smile in their voice. “It is quite solid and substantial. Unlike much of your humor.”

Elliott stares at them open mouthed. “I’m wounded, Bloodhound, truly!” he rebutts, scandalized. He flops back against the couch dramatically, the back of his hand pressed against his forehead. Bloodhound, making multiple jokes in one night? The world must be ending, he thinks, and he doesn’t even care that the jokes are coming at his expense.

Bloodhound laughs, and God, he’s missed that sound. The gentle lilt, the soft breathiness of their voice… Elliott blushes even as he giggles, and he treasures the noise they’re making.

“I have been known to be humorous now and again,” they say, still chuckling.

Elliott can only smile and shake his head in wonder as the two of them laugh, and soon, he’s wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. “Wow. Okay, out of all the things I expected tonight it definitely wasn’t that.”

“And what have you expected for this evening, Elliott?” Bloodhound cocks their head and leans back into the couch, folding their arms.

A thrill of joy runs its course throughout his body when they say his name, and he finds it strange. Bloodhound has surely said his name hundreds of times, but this feels different. Elliott is sure he’s overthinking it, but the way they had said it feels like they were humming a song.

His entire body glows with warmth. “You promised me answers,” he says carefully as the giddiness starts to drain away. “You don’t have to go into specifics but… still, you promised answers.”

Bloodhound is silent for a moment, and their hands fidget lightly in their lap. Then they nod. “Yes. I do owe you answers, so please, ask whatever you would like.” Their voice is guarded and serious, and the shift in attitude is sobering.

Elliott notices how discomfort begins to creep into their posture, and so he resolves to not push them any further than they are willing to be pushed. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, the air hissing between his teeth as he leans back and begins to think. “Okay, um… Well, I was worried about your mask breaking because I don’t know how it works or how it helps. Can I ask why you need it?”

The question only makes Bloodhound’s body language tighten up more. They are silent for several long moments, seeming to ponder and consider his question. Was that too much right out of the gate? he thinks frantically, and he’s about to redact his question when they let out a big breath and begin to speak.

“When I was a child, I was… in an accident,” they say, but something about their admission feels shallow, as if they have more to tell. “No. I made a grave mistake.”

Elliott takes a deep breath and readjusts himself on the couch. He can tell this story will be a long one, and he intends to listen to every word.

“In my culture, young warriors must endure a rite of passage that shows our strength and our transition into adulthood,” Bloodhound explains. “My test was to slátra a prowler beast. I was afraid, but... I knew the Allfather would guide me.” They pause for a moment, and Elliott hangs on to their every word. “I followed its tracks to an abandoned IMC facility deep in the woods, but what I found there was far more hryllilegur. Horrible,” they add when Elliott raises an eyebrow.

“A jötunn had made its home there. It is a terrifying beast, all horns and teeth and claws. It is as large as some of the buildings in Slum Lakes, if you can recall. I began to run away, but I found a prototype Charge Rifle and shot the beast. I thought it was dead. I collected its horn to present to my uncle, but he was... disappointed in me.” They sigh deeply as dread begins to pool in Elliott’s stomach. “I had rejected the sacred laws of the Hunt by using a gun in order to defeat this beast. Artur was steadfast, immovable in his convictions, and no matter how hard I tried to convince him of my victory, he would not validate it.

“I left in anger. I was a child, only fourteen years old, but if the other village elders knew what I had done, they would have exiled me. I was... so ashamed.” Bloodhound swallows, and it sounds like it takes a lot of effort. “I retreated to the forest to be alone, as I often did, and… the jötunn was there. It was not dead, as I had hoped. It sought revenge.

“I tried my best to fight it off. My uncle was alerted to my cries, and came to help, along with many other villagers. They fought, and…” Their voice tightens, and Elliott’s heart breaks. “Many died. Including my uncle.”

Their voice has become achingly vulnerable and soft the longer they’ve spoken, and Elliott wants nothing more than to reach out and take their hands again. He shifts closer to them on the couch, closing the gap ever so slightly. His eyes stay glued to their mask, and the lenses of their goggles reflect the flickering light of the fireplace. He’s always found the mask to be either intimidating or expressionless, but Bloodhound’s sadness speaks for them, and the mask seems to be considerably more morose than usual.

“I sought the beast out,” they continue, and Elliott is surprised by how quietly angry and low their voice is. “It had returned to the abandoned facility. The halls had been equipped with coolant lines in case of an explosion or other emergency, and I broke them in order to immobilize the beast. But I breathed too much of it in, and… it dehydrated and froze my skin and lungs, leaving me scarred. Fortunately, I was able to find an oxygen mask just before I succumbed to the cold. Once the beast was frozen, I killed it with my uncle’s axe, fulfilling my test.”

Bloodhound is quiet for some time, and it takes Elliott a moment to realize they’re done talking. He knows he’s staring, and he knows he looks like he’s pitying them, and he fights to find an adequate response. “I’m so sorry, Bloodhound,” he murmurs, and he reaches out to them hesitantly. He takes their hands ever so softly, giving them every opportunity to pull away. “I’m so sorry you had to deal with such horrible things when you were younger. That sounds really tra- tor- traumatizing.” He’s struck by an incredible urge to pull them into his arms and hold them close, and a wave of embarrassment runs through his body as he presses that urge down.

Bloodhound’s hands begin to tremble in his, and he’s alerted to their discomfort immediately. Their breathing comes quicker and shallower even through the mask, and he holds onto them tighter. “Hey, are you okay?” he asks, worried.

“I-” Their voice breaks and Elliott’s heart clenches in his chest. “I- I am sorry, Elliott, you do not want to see me like this-” Bloodhound makes an attempt to pull away and stand, but Elliott holds on tight, keeping them right where they are.

“Hey, hey,” he soothes. “It’s okay! It’s all right. I’m not bothered by you being emotional. It’s actually pretty refreshing, honestly. Makes you feel more normal, like the rest of us.”

They laugh weakly, and Elliott sighs in relief. “T-Thank you, vinur minn. I just- I am prone to anxiety attacks, and…” They suck in a huge lungful of air, but they’re still shaking. “That is why I left the other night. When you asked me about Artur, I was overcome and needed to leave as quickly as possible. Please do not take any offense- it was not your fault.”

Elliott’s chest fills with a strange sense of compassion and guilt, and he squeezes their hands comfortingly. “It’s okay, Bloodhound,” he reassures them. “I’m not mad. Just… worried.” The admission makes him feel exposed and overbearing all at once, and he really hopes he’s not making them uncomfortable.

An idea comes to his mind. “Hey,” he says quietly. “Breathe with me.”

Bloodhound stiffens, and Elliott hopes to God he hasn’t somehow offended them. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, and after a moment, he hears Bloodhound inhale greatly as well. He finds himself rubbing his thumbs back and forth across their rough gloves, just like they had done to him a few nights ago. He lets the air calm him and settle his racing heart. He still doesn’t really know what he’s doing, or if he’s even doing this right, but to his delight, Bloodhound’s breathing begins to slow and even out. They gradually stop shaking, and he smiles.

Elliott opens his eyes. “Better?” he asks, and he gives their hands a quick squeeze.

They are quiet for a moment. “Nearly,” they murmur, and they pull their hands away. Elliott’s face falls, and rejection begins to rise in him, but they take off their gloves and reach for him once more. He eagerly closes the gap between his shaking fingers and theirs. The place where they make first contact with his skin- a small place near his thumb- tingles pleasantly, and the warmth of their hand settles in his. He inhales sharply, and beams as their fingers curl into his own.

“Better.” They are so quiet and soft as they speak, and Elliott almost misses what they say. “Your kindness is a blessing to me, kæri vinur. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he smiles, trying to find their eyes beyond the lenses of their goggles. Despite his happiness, he finds himself wishing that he could search their face for meaning, for emotion, for clarity. He knows why they need and wear the mask. He knows why he will likely never see their face again. But, damn, does he desperately want to gaze upon them just one more time. He doesn’t know what kæri vinur means, but he can’t help but notice the similarities between it and what they usually call him.

He doesn’t dare to hope it means anything.

...does he?

“Do you… do you want to talk about it, or…?” he trails, attempting to do what they had done a few nights ago.

“No, Elliott,” they reply, but their voice is not unkind. Their grip on his hands tightens for a moment, then they loosen, and it sends a thrill down Elliott’s spine. “Your help was more than enough to calm me.”

He adjusts himself on the couch, and his knee brushes against theirs. The only light in the room comes from the quietly crackling fire, and it highlights Bloodhound’s features with a silhouette of warmth. His heart starts to pound in his chest once more, and every sense heightens. Elliott suddenly becomes aware of how intimate and vulnerable this little bubble of space is, and his shoulders tense in anticipation of something he knows will never come. He wants to pull them close. He wants to lace his fingers in theirs. He wants to…

“Can I trust you, Elliott?”

They sound so… exposed. So afraid. His breath catches in his throat for a moment. “O-Of course, Bloodhound. You can trust me with anything,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumbs across their knuckles reassuringly. He’s surprised by how rough their hands are, and it’s only then that he remembers the silvery spider web scars stretching across their skin.

“Then… there is something I wish to share with you,” they reply, and their hands begin to tremble in his again. They let go of him, and to his utter shock, their hands go to their helmet, edging towards the many clasps that fasten it to their goggles and respirator.

“W-Wait, hold on,” he stutters, and he reaches for their hands again. “A-Are you- hey, you really don’t have to do that if you don’t want to, I mean- I mean, are you absolutely sure?” He stares at them in confusion and worry, and his stomach is an unintelligible knot of emotion. Elliott searches their mask and their body language, trying desperately to figure out what the hell they’re thinking.

“If I was not sure I would not be doing this,” they chide gently, and they remove their hands from his grip. “Please, just let me do this. Ég er svo- I am so tired of hiding.”

Elliott can’t argue with that.

“Okay,” he says, still very unsure. His hands fall back into his lap.

------

The child inside them shakes and trembles horribly as they raise their hands to their head. Part of them screams and begs for them to stop, and it’s only in this moment that they realize that part is the terrified twenty-five year old that had had their mask shattered in front of all those people so long ago. That crowd had been so cruel, but Elliott could never share their vitriol, their hatred. Bloodhound has seen into the man’s heart more than they ever thought they would, and no trace of cruelty exists inside him.

How long has it been since they willingly showed someone else their face? Five years? Ten? Ajay seeing them had been a complete and total accident- one that they had learned not to mind. Boone had grown up with them, of course, so he does not count. But Elliott… At the beginning of this night, they never would have dreamed of doing what they’re about to do. But Elliott is so kind, so thoughtful and accepting that their heart yearns for him greatly, and they can ignore that fact no longer.

Their fingers fumble with the straps of their helmet, but something drives them forward. It drives them to be vulnerable- to be open and take a risk. Elliott has seen their face already, so why are they so nervous? He has seen the scars they bear- why are they trembling like the young one they used to be? They do not know, but they hope that the price of them being so vulnerable is a price he’s willing to pay.

There is no turning back now, they think.

With trembling hands, they remove the helmet, cap, goggles, and finally, the mask.

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sparklingchan · 3 years

Text

Chapter 4|| Stormbringer- Stray Kids Demigod AU

Pairing : Reader(fem.) X Felix

Word count : 1.9k+

Warnings : Fight scenes, injuries but nothing too intense.

Genre : Romance, Demigod AU, fluff, angst.

A/N : Y’all I’m so bad at writing action scenes XDD I swear I’m trying to get better at it.

Re-uploaded because the tumblr gods hate me ig ://

Enjoy!

SERIES MASTERLIST || Click here for introduction to the story and glossary and here for the Stray Kids demigod diaries!