#and warriors trying (and failing) to tackle him back

[saijspellhart]

Sokka’s sexism was not an important growing point for his character - an Essay

I’ve seen all the discourse online about people up in arms about the toning back of Sokka’s sexism in the Netflix ATLA. (Almost everyone I have spoken to have brought it up as a reason to hate the Netflix ATLA) I think that anger is knee jerk, and misguided. It never mattered WHAT the Netflix adaptation was changing, people were always going to be angry about it. They could have announced Momo is a girl now, and people would have raged. Momo being a girl would have changed NOTHING about the series, but people would have been outraged.

Just like I believe Sokka being sexist or not being sexist really changes nothing in the scope of the story, themes, and is not the character growth people claim it to be. Hear me out. Let’s break it down and think about it in terms of themes and character development and how it affects the entire plot.

Sokka is introduced as being cartoonishly sexist in the very first episode of ATLA. As a device simply to make Katara rage. He keeps this trait for a grand total of 3 episodes until episode four when a girl whoops his ass and his sexism is cured forever onward. In the span of a 30 minute episode Sokka’s sexism was given a what for and through that he was transformed into a better man?

Imagine if Zuko’s mental and emotional journey had been solved in a 30 min episode, and wasn’t a lessen he had to repeatedly fail and try and fail and try time and time again. Imagine if Katara’s waterbending journey, or obnoxious controlling nature was just solved in a 30 min episode and not something she struggled with and fought for the entire series.

But let’s say his sexism is super important as everyone claims. Let’s explore it.

When is it challenged ever again in the entire series?

When Sokka leads the invasion on the Fire Nation, there aren’t a bunch of women in that army. He leads an army of men.

When Sokka needs to find a sword master to teach him the art of sword play, it’s a man. He never needed to overcome sexism to accept a non-traditional master.

Nearly all women, sans Toph and Katara, that have any long lasting influential moments in Sokka’s character development are women he has a romance with. Woman whose motivations and agency rely on a man.

The Kyoshi warriors that kicked his ass? What of them? Sokka has to rescue Suki from prison. It’s not tackling some gender equality issue. Suki is a woman in distress and Sokka is the man who comes to rescue her. (Cute and romantic, but hardly tackling a gender cliche.)

Do the Kyoshi warriors ever engage in any actual battle that matters to the plot and win? Not really. Instead the important role of the Kyoshi warriors is to be nurturing to Appa while he’s lost. A traditionally female role. And to provide a way for Azula to overtake Bah Sing Sei. (Don’t get me wrong, I love the girls, but the show never again utilized them in a way that challenged sexism.)

Sokka didn’t need to overcome sexism to respect Azula. Azula commanded and earned all the respect she needed. Sokka didn’t need to overcome sexism to respect Toph. Toph earned his respect by kicking the ass of everyone around him.

At no point in the rest of ATLA was Sokka’s sexism ever challenged after episode 4. It never helped him become a better leader because he never had to lead women whose respect he needed to earn. It never helped him develop his warrior skills. It didn’t affect the plot and his growth as a character any farther than getting a hilarious butt whooping in the fourth episode.

Sokka overcoming sexism wasn’t well written, it was a GAG. A goof. Ha ha funny, man got his butt beat by women and was forever cured.

If we really think about it seriously, as character growth, people who have had sexism so rooted into their beliefs don’t just overcome it because one woman broke the status quo and kicked their ass. That’s lazy writing. It was lazy in the cartoon and it would have been extra lazy in a show that had even less time to explore the issue.

Sexism, if they REALLY wanted to tackle it as a serious issue, should have been a problem Sokka had to challenge several times, and have his preconceived notions proven wrong and dismantled. It should have made him a better leader, or a more respectful fighter.

Instead it’s treated like a joke.

The Netflix ATLA decided to tone it back with Sokka, because from a writing standpoint it made more sense thematically for Katara to challenge sexism with the Northernn water tribe. They didn’t have the time or the budget to poorly tackle the issue of sexism twice, so they focused tackling the issue where it mattered to the plot and where it mattered to KATARA’s character journey more.

I’m tired of people screaming how much they loved his sexism and how the Netflix adaptation is rotten without his sexism. It’s not a lack of media literacy that it was cut. It was media literacy that led to it being cut. A writer recognized when the message was important and when it wasn’t.

That’s all I got to say. You don’t have to agree with me. But these were my thoughts on the matter.

[bokettochild]

for semi conscious how about wind and legend?

i just like giving suggestions ^^

I love getting suggestions!

This one was fun to write, so thanks for the request! I never get to write Legend and Wind bonding or hanging out very much, but I love their dynamic so much!

Rating: Teen

Wordcount: 7,385

Summary: The Chain experiences the delight of dungeons, which of cours ehvae Warriors in shock and wonder, Legend running about like a giddy school girl, and Twilight and Wild acting like the gremlins they really are. Well, that is, until they get split up by a particularly challenging room, leaving Wind and Legend to fend for themselves until the rest can find them, but it's fine! Legend's an expert and Wind's no rookie either! They got this!

-

Puzzles, by nature, attract heroes like bait. 

Wind was never particularly keen on them before starting his adventures, but in the midst of all of the sailing and fighting and worrying, they’d become something of a balm; forcing his attention to focus fully on what was directly before him, on things that had logical answers that were achievable with just a little work, and results that granted a little piece of satisfaction that most other things in his life at the time didn’t. Logic, reliability, and visible results for given efforts, yet still with the thrill of a challenge, of just enough struggle to keep him at it until he’s done, determined not to fail, it’s nice. 

With two adventures under his belt, Wind’s solved and enjoyed his fair share of puzzles. With more adventures than he’s willing to let on, it’s little wonder that Legend seems to show a similar fondness for puzzles too. What had been a tired scowl had quickly faded from the older boy’s face the moment they’d found the hidden entrance to what Hyrule had quickly announced was a dungeon, and the vet’s eyes were glinting eagerly as he’d pushed to the front of the group to get a good look at what they had before them. Now inside, even Wind and Time, who both have more experience than most of the others, are left more than just slightly impressed as the vet quickly solves the various puzzles and riddles within the sprawling chambers.  

If farm life shows them Time’s natural home, and sailing brings out his own, then dungeons definitely are the natural environment of their collector and scholar. Wind doesn’t think he’s seen the vet’s eyes shining nearly this bright ever before in all the time they’ve known him! It’s pretty cool to watch actually. 

He’s a decent hand at puzzles, and even though Legend’s a whizz at them, even the vet still gets stumped or second guesses himself here and again, which allows him to offer his own suggestions and try things. At first, the others had tried to tackle it themselves as well, but by now, they’ve given up offering their opinions, letting their brother take the lead with bemused smiles as they hang back with the captain and champion, who regard everything about them as though seeing it for the first time. He can’t speak for Wild, but the sailor knows that Warriors has only ever been in the prison sort of dungeon before, and this is definitely his first time seeing most of the mechanics of these places, and the threats that they conceal. It’s kind of funny really! Legend’s darting all over the place like a particularly eager piglet and Warriors is just gaping at it all, at how it works, and he doesn’t think Twilight is ever going to stop laughing and chuckling at the shock and awe on the face of their brother as he discovers for the first time what most of them simply consider part of life. It reminds him of when he first started teaching Aryll how to fish and make things, but funnier because Warriors is old enough to be teaching children of his own. 

“You might want to close that maw of yers,” Twilight nudges the captain as the vet starts moving towards the next chamber, “a keese might mistake it fer a cave.” 

Where usually the other would roll his eyes, shove the rancher back, shake his head, or just scoff at the mockery, Warriors doesn’t even seem to notice, instead still staring at the carefully arranged statues in the room. There hadn’t even been a guide or a riddle, just a room of statues. He’s not sure how Legend knew to move them here, there, and the other way, but the moment the vet had stood back, dusting himself off and wiping away sweat with a wide grin, the walls had trembled, and the ground shook and the stones of the north wall had fallen away to reveal another opening. “How on earth does it do that?” 

“Do what?” Hyrule asks. He’s been keeping close to the captain as of late for some reason or another. 

Warriors nods to the door, the one Legend’s already darting through. “Does it repair itself later? And how does it make that particular part of the wall fall away without jeopardizing the entire structure?” 

He’s not sure himself. Wind’s never really wondered before. Once the puzzle is solved, he doesn’t tend to think about it again later, just what comes after and maybe taking a nap or eating something. The others seem to have some ideas though, and a few of them move to answer, only to be interrupted by Four. 

“Puzzle gods.” 

He turns to stare at the smithy. “What?” 

“I believe,” Four pronounces, stopping to look at them all, “that there must be some sort of deity or spirit that goes around building places like this, just for the sheer joy of seeing little mortals like us try to solve them.” Four kindly ignores the pointed remarks and chuckles that follow his adjective choices, which Wind thinks is rather grand of him because he certainly wouldn’t. “Every hundred years, some hero type or daredevil comes through, solves the puzzles and wins the prize, but then it all gets sealed up again and there’s another prize the next time someone comes through.” A shrug of the shoulders signals the decision to start moving again. “It really is the only explanation.” 

He’s being silly, Wind thinks. Fac-facetious? Is that what Legend calls it? Anyway, Four’s messing with them, messing with Warriors, and its beautiful watching realization dawn on the captain’s face only to be quickly replaced by a sharp little smile and a headshake that’s half warning, half repressed laughter. Time used to get that one all the time when they were kids. “You ass.” 

“Our ass is currently up ahead.” Four retorts, smirking over his shoulder. 

“Your ass is currently getting his ass whooped!” Legend’s voice yells from the doorway they’ve yet to cross. “Get in here!” 

They hurry, but there’s no panic. Legend is short-spoken when he’s actually worried, and the clear humor in his tone was obvious enough that they know not to worry too much. They don’t need to anyway, it turns out. Legend’s foes are a bunch of chu-chus and like-likes, which are annoying, yes, but hardly worse than an annoyance all said and done. Once they can clearly see the door on the other side of the room, Wild tells them to book it across, a glowing bomb lifted high and attracting the monster population’s attention long enough for them to obediently book it. Wild joins them on the other side a moment later with a sharp grin as he taps his slate, spinning to catch the glow of the blast. His eyes shine like lanterns.  

“Sick,” Wind laughs. 

Legend, leaning against the wall next to him, stares. “What does that even mean?” 

“Who knows,” the captain sighs, long since having given up decoding the slang that some of them use, (probably because he knows full well how quickly he’ll get hooked once he knows what he’s saying), “kids these days say weird shit.” 

Their leader smirks. With only one eye, it’s hard to tell where Time’s looking, but it’s over the heads of Wind and Four, so it’s not at them. “I believe it’s similar to ‘groovy’.” 

Wind has no clue what ‘groovy’ means. Legend and Hyrule, on the other hand, nod sagaciously, exchanging a brief look of understanding. 

“Groovy,” The vet snorts. 

“Groovy,” Hyrule answers back, grin wide. 

“Good grief,” Warriors declares, sweeping past them with barely disguised laughter. 

There’s some varied laughter and jostling of each other as they set out again. The room they’ve darted into holds very little, just a chest with a key and some dark inky looking blobs that the vet warns them to avoid, only to step on himself. It’s because his magical boots protect him, he says, but Wind sort of doubts that; he thinks maybe Legend just likes stepping on monsters sometimes. He can’t blame him, considering how fun he finds it to watch enemies be plowed over by Tetra’s ship, be he in it or not, so he doesn’t exactly have room to speak here. 

They move on from the key room, back into the chu room, which is now void of anything save some wobbly chunks that Sky screws up his face at the sight of and Twilight and Wild gather up as though they don’t stick to their fingers. The sailor follows Legend as he moves to the locked door on one side of the room, well aware of the fact that once the chu jelly is gathered, Twilight and Wild will be looking for something to wipe their hands on, and if it doesn’t end up being the captain’s scarf, it will be one of the rest of them.  

Warriors knows too, and is already bundling up his scarf, Warning Glare already activated.  

Four’s hood is very much in danger now (everyone respects the sailcloth too much and Hyrule gets snappish when touched unexpectedly). 

Avoiding the issue entirely is in his best interest, and the vet seems to think the same, sniggering a bit into his hand as he steals a look back at the rest of them, who stand about like sitting ducks, as though unaware they can now actually escape gooey hands and wolfish grins. “Who’s getting gooed, d’y’think?” The vet whispers to him, violet eyes sparking as he pauses just inside the wide arch of the door, but not yet into the other room. Somehow, apparently, that stops monsters being able to reach him, although how, the sailor has still yet to figure out. 

He shrugs back, risking a glance just as the two finish their messy work. “Don’t now, but I sure as stone don’t want it to be me!” 

Like silly toddlers, they’re fighting back laughter, ducking out of sight as Twilight springs towards the group, Wild on his heels. Getting out before someone notices them watching is the best way to avoid getting caught in the crossfire or being selected as a far less dangerous target. Good as they may be in battle, Twilight is still stronger than either of them, and Wild is scary fast; there’s no avoiding getting slimed once those two have chosen you as their target. Not even Legend’s Death Kicks or a spell would be enough to dissuade Twilight once his mind is set on being the worst big brother in the world.  

It’s a big sibling thing. 

Instead, they hide away, Legend pressing a finger to his lips and Wind nodding as they listen to the shouts of the others, exchanging a look and a silent laugh before the vet turns to look through the other side of the doorway. When he does, his smile falls. “Shit.” 

Not a good thing to hear, especially since Legend’s been rather in a good mood all afternoon because of finding the dungeon. He stares at the other for a moment before daring to glance out into the next room. “What?” There doesn’t seem to be any monsters within sight, although it is pretty dark ahead. That said, other than the fact that he can’t see much of anything, it doesn’t look nearly as bad as the water filled chamber at the entrance of the dungeon, the room where various aquatic monsters lurked, and they’d been swimming and fighting in the dark. It wasn’t awful, but it wasn’t nearly as fun as the puzzles, not by a long shot. 

“Look at the floor,” the vet sighs, slumping a bit. 

Wind looks. “There isn’t much of one.” 

A nod. “Yeah. A thin path with precious few safe spaces, lighting that goes out within a few minutes, and, of course, the floor disappears as you walk on it.” 

Of all the things Legend’s showed them in the dungeon, this is definitely moving to the top of his list of things he doesn’t like in land-dungeons. His own are odd in their own ways, but rapidly disappearing flooring is not preferable. “What do we do?” Because asking Legend is always the best option with dungeons, or so he’s finding. Warriors is the battle master, Time the most lived, Hyrule and Wild best with travel, but Legend is definitely the one you ask when it comes to anything unnatural or excessively confusing. Dungeons, magic, and history are the vet’s expertise, and if the vet doesn’t know it, it’s probably not worth knowing anyhow. 

The older boy scrubs at his face with his hands. “Run.” 

“From what?” The others have joined them again. 

“The floor.” 

“The what?” 

“The floor,” Legend repeats, motioning out into the room before them. “It’s going to drop out from underneath you as you run across it. We won’t be able to make it in one go, just two at a time until we’re all across.” 

“I can’t see,” Sky isn’t pouting, but he looks very aggravated. There’s slime in his hair. “How do we know where to go?” 

The vet shrugs. “We guess.” 

There’s a pause, and then, “What? You have tips and tricks for everything else, but when the floor falls out from underneath you, you just guess where to run?” 

Violet eyes glint, a snort and half-smile appearing again. “Got a better idea?” 

“We’ll live,” Hyrule is the one speaking now, pushing past the others to look out into the new room. “I think these things usually respawn after ten minutes or so. So even if we take a wrong turn, we can go back, it just...” 

“It takes a bit,” Legend finishes, snatching his cap off to ruffle at his hair in agitation. “And longer if you don’t have a hook-shot ready. If you drop, you’re probably going to fall back to the first room.” 

“How?” Warriors doesn’t sound bemused anymore, just confused. 

He hears Four snort more than he sees it, what with the smallest being at the back probably due to hiding behind Time. “Puzzle gods.” 

The comment goes ignored, and any serious answer to the captain’s question never comes. Instead, the vet sets out onto the temporary path, striking ahead like he tends to in unfamiliar territory, and simply by virtue of already being there, Wind is the first to follow. He’s not sure if he likes it or not that the captain, who’s behind him, doesn’t follow immediately. Not having his back guarded all of a sudden isn’t very pleasant, but the path does, indeed, start falling away not long after their feet leave it behind. 

Legend darts. Wind follows.  

Corners are tricky, and the vet seems to cut them altogether if he can, sprinting along while casting fireballs out into the darkness, just long enough to show the way before they dissipate. It would be easier to light a lantern, but it’d leave one hand busy, and neither of them can risk that, not without backup as they dance out into the darkness. There really is no rhyme or reason to their path, just wherever they can manage, and when the sprint is starting to get to him (he’s a sailor, not a landlubber, he doesn’t run much), they finally pull off to a small floating island in the middle of the room, and though the path falls away before them, they're left stable. 

The vet heaves a breath, flames licking off his fingers to fill a sconce set on the little isle of stone. “Well, having fun yet?” 

He just groans in answer, earning a snort and a hair ruffle in return. 

“Come now, Maliit, where’s your sense of adventure?” 

“Above ground?” He tries, smiling through now very messy hair; whatever damage running did is now made so much worse by bejeweled hands. “Maybe with Hyrule, I think he stole it.” 

His answer is a scoff as Legend darts his own hair out of his eyes, nose wiggling some with silent laughter as he shakes his head, much like Warriors usually would. Their traveler’s light fingers are no secret, unlike the captain’s. Hyrule’s propensity to pluck things from their possession without their knowledge, especially when he’s mad at them, is something of a joke by now, and watching Time returning the favor is hilarious as they battle it out until the captain will force them to stop. Warriors, in contrast, rarely employs his own skills, but there have been times, and he’s good. 

It’s unlikely that either can actually steal an aspect of someone’s personality though. Still, Wind knows better than to presume; for all he knows, maybe there is such a magic that one of them have!  

The vet doesn’t push the matter though, just cracks his back and rolls his shoulders a bit, staring into the area around them, occasionally letting off a flame into the darkness, peering and squinting to try and see a path. Wind would do the same, but he’s only of use for that sort of thing above ground. Sailing, he can spot land faster than most of the older pirates, but in caves? Tunnels? He’s no good to anyone when it comes to seeing. Legend says that that’s to be expected though. Apparently, his timeline has evolved so hylians have much better dark-vision and hearing, something Hyrule and he display quite clearly. Twilight is the same, but they think that’s part of the whole wolf-deal, since the rest of his era doesn’t have the same blessings. Anyways, Wind doesn’t have them, so he sits and catches his breath and watches the vet until at last the other turns and offers him a hand. 

“Path is back.” 

“Here we go again,” he sighs, smiling up at where the vet’s eyes glint in the already dying firelight.  

Legend waits until the flame in the sconce dies, which as he warned, happens quickly. It’s lighted again quickly with a snap of the fingers, and then they’re off again, darting down the path that collapses even out from beneath them as they move. 

Somewhere, out in the darkness, he hears shouting, hears what sounds like Warriors, or probably Sky with how loud it is. 

He waits until they reach another stopping point, flames licking life across the vet’s features before his face, before he asks a thought that’s suddenly come to him. “You think Sky can handle all this running?” 

There’s a snort in answer, a tremble of the shoulders in a laugh that isn’t set free but plays in eyes that flicker red in the firelight. “He’s fast, even if his stamina is shit. I think he’ll live. At worst, Twilight can just carry him around.” The image is sort of ridiculous, and it makes him laugh. A knee-slapping, shoulder shaking laugh that echoes back in a wiggling nose and creasing eyes as barely contained cackles tremble through his brother. 

- 

They make it through the dark room eventually. The sounds that ring and echo through the darkness have Legend despairing that the others will be along at any time soon but considering he’s the one doing all the puzzle solving anyways, he apparently decides there’s no reason to wait up. Instead, when they reach the ledge at the end, one that has a door and a passage onwards, he sets a lantern in the doorway, lit and capable of holding his flames longer than the little beacons they’d run across on the path. Beside it, he settles his blue cap, a quickly written ‘catch up already’ scrawled on a note he pins to the soft fabric. 

“They’ll know we went this way when they see it.” He tells Wind, and the sailor nods back. It’s a good plan. A lantern could be a sign of a new puzzle. Legend's lantern, Legend’s hat, are a way to say that Legend is here, that he’s ahead, but didn’t have the patience to wait for the rest, something which Wind quite agrees with. 

As before, Legend pauses in the doorway to the next room, staring out into the new chamber and assessing its contents before he ventures forwards. He’s done that with most of the rooms in this dungeon so far, the only exception being the key room, where they were too eager to escape Wild’s bombs to care about what stood on the other side. Wind’s sort of glad they’ve stopped too, because inside the room, wispy figures appear and disappear without any rhyme or reason, waves of magic and piercing screams emitted from their flickering forms just moments after they appear. 

“Wizzrobes,” the vet hums, brow furrowing. “Fought those before?” 

He stares. “y-yes...?” 

Twin red flames, because the vet’s eyes glint red in the darkness, the only clear feature on his face as it’s turned on him, stare into his eyes. “Is that a question or an answer, sailor?” 

“I’ve fought them, but...” he glances back at the ghostly looking figures with wide-brimmed hats, “mine are very...different.” 

“Do they appear and disappear at seemingly random and attack you with magic?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then there’s no real difference,” the vet proclaims. “Just don’t get hit, and strike them after they attack, because there’s not much time before they do. Hit hard, hit fast, and keep light on your feet. You can do that, right?” 

He nods. He can. He's a sailor, he’s good at darting around and avoiding random things trying to hit him. Ust because these wizzrobes don’t look like tropical birds in long robes doesn’t mean they’ll be any harder to fight! Although, it is going to be weird to try and connect what he knows about the enemies to his experiences with their counterparts in his era. Still, he can do this. 

“One more thing,” Legend adds, shield lifted and sword ready, “the doorway is an option. If you need a breath, cover, or a moment to assess your foe, don’t be afraid to lurk in doorways. They’re life savers.” 

“Got it.” 

And just like that, they set upon the enemy. Legend really does dance across the room as he works. Darting and spinning and plunging through the enemies. Avoiding this blow and that, even as the five different foes all try and take aim at him. It’s like he can predict where they’ll appear, and it’s like he’s waiting for them when they do, sword flashing in the light of the enemy magic as he dispatches them. 

Wind holds his own rather well, he thinks, downing two of the five. Again, the vet has been doing this far longer and knows much more than he does, but he’s not a beginner himself either. They make it through the room with nothing more than a little damage; a little curse that Legend plucks off of them and dissipates with a glinting of golden magic and a disgusted expression that has the sailor sniggering to himself. “Wish I could do that.” 

“It’s exhausting,” comes the answer, “I’m going to sleep like a log once we get out of here.” 

He has been using rather a lot of magic, what with the fireballs and everything. Does he run out eventually, or will they be alright to keep going? “Do you need a green potion?” 

“I need a nap,” Legend snorts. “Although yes, if you have one, that would be nice too.” 

He does, but only for a moment or so more, because it’s gone the moment it’s in the scholar’s hands. Bottle carefully tucked away to give back to Wild to be refilled at a later date. “Thanks.” 

“Of course.” He might not be able to use much magic, beyond the Wind Waker, but that doesn’t stop him carrying magic potions for his brothers. Wild had laughed a bit when he’d asked the older boy to teach him to brew them, and while he’s not very good at it and actually needs Wild to do most of the work, he does make an effort to have most potion types on him at all times. He doesn’t need anything for heat or sun, doesn’t have much magic and rarely uses strength, stamina, or defense potions, but the others need them, so he wants to have them on hand. Sky needs stamina potions and never has them. Hyrule and Time frequently exhaust their magic, and goodness knows all of them are constantly downing health potions after battles or skirmishes with various foes. He'd done the same thing during the war, and Midna had taken to calling him “Bottle Boy” as a joke, because when Warriors eventually was on the edge of collapse or someone else needed something, he always had what they needed. She’d say it like it was a mockery at first, but he sort of misses hearing the tease each time he hands one of his brothers the potion they need. Time still says it though, grinning and winking, and even Warriors will repeat it on a rare occasion, relieved and warm and fond. 

Legend doesn’t know about it, but in many ways, the older boy reminds him a bit of that blasted imp, especially with how much he likes to tease and ruffle up Wind’s hair. He wonders if the other two see it as well, or maybe they’ve forgotten. Time probably has, what with how old he’s gotten since then. 

“What now?” he asks, looking around the room at the fallen magic staves and hats. He’s a bit tempted to put one of the hats on, but he’s also got the feeling that that may or may not get him cursed somehow. Legend just removed a minor curse, and he’s not asking for a repeat because he’s being stupid. He'll ask the vet what would happen if he did, but later, once the other doesn’t actually think he will do it, or that he even can. 

The lights have come on now that the enemies have fallen, something Warriors would definitely be gaping at if he was here and puzzling, yet again, on the ‘how’ of it all. With the aid of said light, he can properly see the vet’s dark eyes roving over the room, now violet again as they search for some key or puzzle that will point the way forward. “Not sure yet.” 

It takes a moment, some darting around and looking here and there, but at last the vet finds the way forwards, pushing a large stone block one way to reveal a hole in the floor. 

“Sky’s not going to like this,” he observes, crouching to look down into the darkness below.  

Legend. Leaning against the just moved block, snorts his agreement. “Wars either.” 

He, however, is not scared of the dark, even if he can’t see well in it. Still, he lets the vet take the lead, because quite frankly he doesn’t think Legend ever lets himself follow others into danger, or the unknown. No, he lets Legend go first and then drops down after him, only after they’ve made a very obvious arrow shape on the floor with the magic staves to point towards the hole they’re plunging into. The others do still need to be able to find them eventually, after all! 

Dropping into the hole though, he sort of regrets not waiting for them. 

There is a door in the room, but it’s locked, and there’s no key in sight and the little ring the vet keeps on his belt, apparently expressly for dungeon keys, is currently empty after opening the way to the room with the falling walkways. The one the others may or may not still be stuck inside of at the moment. So, unlike before, there’s no doorway to hide in at the moment, and the very large gleeok that takes up most of the chamber definitely makes that a very big problem. 

“Oh, come on,” Legend doesn’t look worried so much as tired as he lifts his shield, just in time to block them both from the first burst of flames, “seriously? No warning? No boss key? No crazy fancy door? This is just breaking all the laws of dungeon etiquette!” 

“What?” he stammers, unashamedly hiding behind the other as the flames sputter out. 

“Dungeon bosses are always marked, and if this isn’t even the main foe, then I dread to think what the ‘puzzle gods’ decided to put in the boss room. Gleeoks are overkill to begin with!” 

He’s handling this a lot better than Wind was expecting. Like it’s a nuisance rather than an actual threat, which, for the vet, is kind of unusual. Legend always takes things seriously on the battlefield, at least as long as their enemy is something more threatening than a blob with teeth. Gleeoks sort of fall under Wind’s ‘extremely dangerous, do not engage’ list, and he’s rather certain it’s the same all around, except with Sky, who thinks they’re friendly for some reason. 

“Plan?” he asks, already grabbing for his own sword again, and wishing, not for the first time, that he had more spirit power. Stopping time long enough to get some heavy hits on their new foe would be pretty convenient, even if it wouldn’t let Legend help him at all. Still, he can take on foes without the others, so he wouldn’t need the vet’s help, although it’s nice to have; Legend treats him like a competent equal on the battlefield, and other than giving advice on how to take on foes or tricks the other uses himself, he’s mostly left Wind to do his work without interference. It’s nice, and a pleasant change from having the older ones always trying to protect him. 

The vet puffs, mind whirring so loud he can almost hear it. “Kill it? Weakness is probably it’s eyes.” 

“It has three heads.” 

“We each take on one and tag-team the third.” 

“Got it.” 

Uncomplicated but also very vague. Still, Legend’s a scholar, not a tactician. He’s good at killing things and he’s fast on the field, but the vet doesn’t tend to do the strategizing in their group, or the commanding, unless of course the others are losing focus and need someone to remind them that they are, in fact, in the middle of a battle. Even then though, legend’s plans are on the fly and generally rely on them all being actually competent enough to think for themselves on how to do what they’re told. Like now. 

Take down one head, join Legend for the other one. Easy to say, but not nearly as easy to do. 

He wishes gleeoks had a limit on how much fire they could produce at a time. It would make fighting them so much more fair. 

As it is, there’s so much fire in the room it’s sort of hard to make out where, exactly, legend is at any given moment. He keeps having to duck behind his shield too, and dart away as the beast thunders across the floor. Getting close is a nightmare, but once he does, managing to climb up between the two giant wings, he finds himself face to face with his companion again. 

“Long time no see,” Legend smirks, and then springs across the scales to his side, lowering his shield to offer something to him. “Forgot to give you this.” 

He takes it without question, because he rather doubts a prank is incoming considering they're in the midst of a fight, and he’s pleasantly surprised to find a red ring in his possession, one that makes the heat around them a fair bit less painful as he slips it on. Flame protection, he guesses, watching the vet spring along the neck of the beast, the other two heads turning towards him as the tempered blade lifts to take a plunge at one of three giant eyes. 

Well, best cover his brother’s ass! He follows suit, jumping up and climbing the neck of the wriggling beast, catching its attention as well, just as Legend’s sword plunges home, once, twice, and a burst of flames explodes around them. 

It’s hard seeing, smoke overtaking his vision and, again, his eyes aren’t the best in dim spaces, but he plunges where he thinks the head is. 

The gleeok shakes him off before he can be sure of the damage he’s done. He manages to tuck and roll as he hits the ground, and his shield arm takes most of the impact. Pain explodes from his shoulder down, but he’s still able to stand again, sword still in hand as he turns again to face the three great eyes that now fix on him, one of them, and only one, leaking blood profusely. 

Well shit! 

A clawed foot swipes at him, and he has to roll again to get away, shield up and arm screaming. He's probably sprained his wrist or shoulder or something, something that’s going to make this unnecessarily hard, because of course that’s how this works.  

He hears Legend yelling from the other side of the room, but the gleeok doesn’t turn, and a wide sweep of the wings sends the sailor skidding back, feet fighting to stay upright, and shield still raised as the force sends him flying backwards and into the wall. The impact hits after than he was expecting, and his guard falters just a bit under the force of it, leaving him open to the next burst of flames. Sages bless Legend for giving him the ring. He can feel the flicker of flames over his skin, but the effect, while painful, isn’t anything close to what he’d seen the same sort of attack do to the captain so many months ago. His skin bubbles and sleeves burn, but it’s no worse than sticking his hand into a fire for a moment, and the flames die suddenly with a scream from the monster as Legend’s blade must find a home in it’s tail or some such. 

Suddenly, he’s free to breathe again, a doorway of opportunity giving him a moment to muster himself and fight down the pain surging up his arms and across his face. His feet falter some on the floor, even without the force of the wings blowing him back, but he finds his land legs again after a moment, and then he’s headed back into the fray. 

Legend’s hissing insults, shouting things to keep the focus of their foe on himself, and while it definitely does nothing more than agitate the creature, it gives Wind opening to dart along towards the tail now turned to him. 

He doesn’t manage to climb on top, because a head comes rolling down his way, forked tongue still sticking out, and the vet’s shout to “hit the head!” distracts him from joining his brother on top of the thing. He does as ordered though, pouring his pain into a strike that has the thing splashing blood up and over him, one glowing yellow eye fading to grey as he hacks and stabs until the thing stops rolling and bouncing across the floor. 

One head down, two to go. 

Legend’s mounted the monster again, but it’s caught on, and the head he’s not standing on is snapping at him, large teeth closing just short of pink hair as the man darts and dances out of reach, sword plunging up towards the attacking beast, balance somehow unfaltering despite how the creature beneath him bucks and writhes, shaking to try and dismount him but only succeeding in foiling the attempts of the other head as its target is lifted and dropped and sifted out of reach of snapping teeth. 

It’s too much movement to let Wind get ahold of scales or spikes and pull himself up, and even trying sends the harsh texture of the hide scraping over fresh burns, a shout of pain catching in his throat as he immediately pulls his hand back. Instead, he determines to hack away at the sweeting tails and stumbling claws, doing at least some damage until at last the head snapping at the vet turns to him, a snort of ire signaling the shift of attention and giving him enough time to lift his shield and dart back from the next wave of flames. 

The flames die again with another blow to one eye, but the head doesn’t fall. Instead, the spattering blood makes feathered boots slip, and Legend’s shout rings out beside the roar of the gleeok as he plummets to the floor. Like Wind, the vet tucks and rolls, but unlike the sailor, he doesn’t land on his shield arm. 

Legend lands on his head. 

As though he actually has phantom powers, time seems to slow for a moment as he watches the tight all of his brother uncurls, limbs and sword clattering against the floor, violet eyes fluttering briefly. 

“Legend!” 

He’s not sure, exactly, how he manages to climb onto the monster that’s still writhing in pain from the latest blow, but he does. He does and he manages to get himself atop the singular uninjured head, slashing away at the scales by his feet until they give way to flesh and bone, and then finally the head falls away altogether, leaving only the one sightless one instead as the second head plumets down to the floor where Legend is still lying. 

The vet’s trying to move, but a faint cry of pain, bitten off but heart-rending sounds with the motions, and considering how he’d fallen and how heavily, Wind doesn't think it’s likely a good idea at all to let Legend move. 

He jumps. Rolls down the scaly back and popping up again just a short distance away from the head that bounces up again from the force of its fall, black and crimson ichor and blood spattering everywhere with the motion. It takes more effort this time to keep after the head, the eye still glowing in a signal that it can and will return to its body through whatever twisted magic it is that keeps this thing alive. 

He thinks he hates the puzzle gods. 

The head is just beginning its returning path to the body that writhes and snarls with all the force left in its remaining, blinded head, but he manages a blow. It roars and hisses, but a plunge into golden sclera stops that, and a second one, just to be sure, because being certain never hurt anything when fighting monsters, ends the things motions as it dissipates into a cloud of miasma. 

One head remains, flailing around as fire spills from its open maw, filling the room with smoke and flames. 

He wants to look over to Legend, making sure the fire isn’t touching his fallen brother, but he can’t risk taking his focus off the foe. When its head lowers, wings raised as it blasts fire forwards, he springs, rolls out of the way, feet slapping the stone beneath as he darts in while its neck is lowered enough to sever, and with a mighty shout, a shooting pain up his arm and as much force as he can muster, the phantom sword plunged into the scales. 

Flames die with a cry, the beast rearing up, his blade still imbedded in its flesh and his hands holding tightly, feet sweeping off the ground as wings sweep out with a blast. 

He hears another pained cry, a shout of agony as the bet’s body is sent rag-rolling across the floor. 

Oh sages, his spine! You shouldn’t move people who might have hurt their spines!  

The gleeok’s roar of agony matches in pitch to the cry of the fallen hero, and Wind’s own brain is screaming in kind as he wrenches himself upwards, swinging his feet up to mount the final head, blade tugging free only to plunge again, force sending shockwaves up his aching arm and definitely screwing it up more than it had been initially. Wars is going to chew his ear off for this one, he knows it. Still, the head falls free, and again, he manages to roll down the spiney back, across the floor, body sore all over as he darts like a mad thing across the stone to the final head. 

When the last golden eye goes dim, purple smoke rising, his whole body feels like one giant bruise. 

He doesn’t have time for that though. Doesn't even bother to try and clean his sword, something that will earn Four on his ass as well as the captain, but that doesn’t matter nearly as much as hauling ass to the form of the vet who lies on the floor, breath shuddering and hands still somehow gripping ahold of the faintly glowing tempered sword.  

“Legend?” His knees sting as he sinks down onto them, hands hovering as he tries to assess his brother’s injuries without moving him. He shouldn’t move him at all, and much as a red potion would help, it never does anything for broken bones if they’re not set properly first, something he is definitely not qualified to do. They need Warriors. Seven Sages, where are the others? How are they taking this long? “Vet, come on, can you hear me?” 

There’s a puff of breath and a gritting of teeth, but long ears flick, responsive even though no verbal answer comes. 

“Stay with me, Ledge,” he pleads, trying to peer through the soot to see if blood is stemming from anywhere. There's no large puddle of it or anything. Although, like himself, burns do stretch over any exposed skin he can see. “Just stay awake. Wars will be here soon, and we’ll get you all fixed up.” 

“’kay.” It’s more gasp than speech, but it’s an answer. 

He reaches for one of the vet’s bejeweled hands. Moving those, treating the burns at least with the salve he’s carried with him since the captain’s battle with Volga, won’t jostle his brother enough to do more damage than what’s already been done. 

Long fingers squeeze around his own, but he doesn't pull away, just lets the vet grip as tight as he needs as he wipes the ash and dirt away with a cloth wetted with his canteen, cleaning and applying what knowledge he has about burns to treat the injuries before wrapping them. 

He talks as he works. He doesn't know how much Legend’s actually listening, but the vet’s long ears follow him as he talks, twitching occasionally at what he says. There’s the occasional attempt at a smile on cracked lips as he recounts one or another of his adventures with Tetra, and while they're pained, the smiles are undeniable as he talks about Aryll and Granny. 

The others still haven’t joined them by the time Wind’s exhausted his knowledge of wound care and run out of burns to tend, both on the vet and himself. He feels like a jerk, downing a potion to tend his own injuries and not granting one to the other, but he can’t risk having any damage done become permanent from the potion’s magic, so instead he holds Legend’s hand in his own and keeps talking. By nervous habit, he starts toying with pink hair, just like he’d do with Aryll at home when he’s nervous, braiding and unbraiding and stoking silky hair to calm his own mind. Legend doesn’t tell him to stop either, and while the tension and pain that lines his body doesn’t go away, it’s clear that the comfort is appreciated as they wait for the others to join them. 

He checks in every few moments, reminding legend to stay awake, to keep his eyes open. It works for a while, but eventually long lashes flutter closed, despite his every warning and plea, and they don’t open again no matter what he says. The only assurance that the vet isn’t fully unconscious is the flicker of his ears as Wind speaks, so he keeps talking. He keeps his eyes fixed on long ears, and hands soothing silky hair as he rambles about anything and everything he can think of, trying to keep going at least until the others arrive. 

When at last he hears feet overhead, voices echoing down into their chamber, Wind could nearly cry from relief. Based off the tears that streak ash covered cheeks, Legend does. 

[waterfire1848]

AU where Aang wakes up 30 years earlier 🙏🏼🙏🏼

Hello, @kibutsulove !!! Got it!

1. Aang wakes up when Hakoda (oldest but smallest of the group except for Aang) 16, Kya is 15, Bato is 15, Ozai is 16, Ursa is 14, and Zhao is 17. When Aang does wake up, he’s woken up thanks to Zhao attacking the village on his first mission and shooting fireballs at Aang’s iceberg (he leaves before noticing Aang). Hakoda, Kya and Bato grab him and bring him back to the village to rest up. Hakoda loves Appa so much while Kya and Bato are digging their nails into the saddle to stay alive.

2. The journey includes Hakoda, Kya and Bato traveling to the North Pole because Aang comes out of the iceberg a decade after Hama is taken away, so he needs to go there to learn waterbending. Hakoda just flat out tackles Pakku and starts punching him when he finds out who he is (Kanna deserved better). Zhao is on their tail the whole time because he’s trying to show off his skills to Ozai (who is too busy hating his showboating brother). Kya and Zhao have one or two or six sessions where they just talk about liking an idiot.

3. When Zhao fails, Ozai wants to go help him (Ursa kind of comes along because she believes the two will die without her) before Iroh (who is also now after Aang) can capture the Avatar. Let’s just say they aren’t as well oiled a team as Team Azula. Ozai is mission driven, Zhao is jealous because Ursa is betrothed to Ozai, and Ursa really is just doing her (she could not possibly care less about capturing Aang but she does find two of his companions kind of cute (bisexual!Ursa))

4. Iroh tries a baby’s first “siege on Ba Sing Se” while Ozai, Zhao and Ursa slip into the city disguises as Kyoshi Warriors. Aang’s earthbending teacher here would probably be Tyro (16) (who sadly isn’t a little blind girl but he is up for all kinds of chaos). Hakoda, Kya and Bato are living their best nonbender lives and watching Tyro through Aang around. (Aang: Aren’t you guys going to help?! Hakoda: You go this! Kya: We believe in you! Bato: Unbroken bones are overrated. Aang: 😑). Kya manages to confess to Hakoda in Ba Sing Se and the two start dating right before the city is taken over by the three Fire Nationals. Aang wouldn’t be killed here because there’s no way to bring him back to life.

5. Tyro, Hakoda, Kya, Bato and Aang all head to the Fire Nation and infiltrate it. While they’re there, Tyro does a prison break, Hakoda learns how to use a new weapon, Kya and Ursa have a secret girls day, Bato goes into the Fire Nation military for a single day and Aang helps out a town. (Kya: I can’t believe that all only took us two months. Hakoda: Yeah, it seems like the rules of time don’t really exist anymore). Meanwhile, Ozai, Ursa and Zhao return as war heroes with Ozai happily rubbing his success in Iroh’s face (but still not getting much positive attention from Azulon if any attention). Zhao grows even more jealous as Ozai and Ursa have to plan their wedding (which Ursa confessed to Kya she doesn’t want to go through with).

[tsarisfanfiction]

Hide and Seek

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Teen Genre: Family Characters: Michael, Apollo, Piper, Meg, Jason Michael wasn't expecting to stumble across his mortal father in his latest escape attempt. Now if only his dad would do the sensible thing and get off the floating villa Michael's been trying to escape for the past two years. TOApril day 24 - Unexpected Allies. This is a spin-off AU from mine and @stereden's fic A Single Drachma, where instead of his escape from Caligula meaning he missed the TBM drama of canon... well. This happened. I may or may not tackle this AU properly later on, but for now here's a pilot of what could be. There are characters I've not written much if at all before in here, so please bear with any oocness that may have occurred as I start to get to grips with them.

Michael didn’t know what he’d expected, but it wasn’t this.

More fucking big eared furry menaces hounding him with the bows that he just wished he could get his hands on?  He’d rather not because they meant trouble, but they were a possibility.

Brainwashed humans and stupid cyclopes working together to pin him down and drag him back to his dressed-up fucking prison?  Second most likely, and preferred out of the two – even without a weapon he had a chance of wriggling past them.

The horse?  Fuck off, but also a known quantity.  Same for the deluded creepy freak that called himself an emperor-god and kept telling Michael he was going to replace Apollo.  If he never saw either of them again it would be too fucking soon, but so far his luck hadn’t been that good.

It hadn’t been good at all.  If it was, he wouldn’t have been stuck on these fucking boats for the past two years.  Michael was very, very sick of water everywhere he looked.  There was land around them at the moment, some bay or other, although he had no idea which one.  He didn’t care, either, as long as he could finally get away, and there had been enough noise going on that something was happening, and he had another chance to slip away – if he could get onto one of those landing boats unnoticed.

Then the lightning had struck the boat he was on, blowing apart enough of it that the freaky sound-proofing that Michael hated so much cracked open and the noise of fighting was right there.

Lightning.  Striking a boat.

Michael had been a demigod long enough to know that lightning didn’t just strike for no reason.

He shrunk back into the shadows as more of the freak’s goons – one of them a cyclops – ran towards the broken cabin and yanked open the door with enough force that it almost came off its hinges.  The freak was not going to be happy about the destruction of one of his precious boats, and Michael almost wished he could see his reaction.

Almost.

He still wanted to get the fuck away more.

Then the freak’s goons dropped dead, and Michael saw opportunity.  He hated to admit it, but with two years’ worth of failed escape attempts, it was pretty damning evidence that he wasn’t going to get away without some help.  It was either going to save or damn him, but he needed to know if there were more anti-freaks on the ship – if there were, he was joining their fucking party no matter what they said.

Michael stayed low as he nudged the door open, pushing it without actually standing in the doorway, because he’d seen how fast those idiots had dropped and wasn’t going to get himself killed by being like them.

Gold weapons flashed out at the empty space, lower than he’d anticipated – a shorter warrior than he’d accounted for – and proved his paranoia right.

“I’m not with those bastards,” he said, keeping his voice low – because sound travelled on the water and the freak might be several boats over but that didn’t make him necessarily out of earshot – but clear.  He was well aware his outfit didn’t help matters, with the stupid white-and-blue sailor crap the freak loved so much, but that wasn’t his fucking choice, either.  Still, he poked his head cautiously around the doorframe, keeping a hand raised where whoever was in there could see it.

It was a bad fucking idea, he knew it was, but two years was enough to make him more than a little bit fucking desperate, okay?

There were four of them in there – closest to the door, with those dangerous-looking twin golden blades, was a black haired girl about his height, and probably a similar age to Kayla (if Kayla hadn’t fallen, and no, Michael wasn’t going to think about seeing his youngest sister fall from the fucking bridge right now).  The other teenagers were all a couple of years younger than him, maybe Will’s age or a bit older, but they had the clear air of demigods, and Michael hadn’t seen any of those in two years.

Demigods on a quest, even if there was too many of them, technically.  If the kid was part of it.

She certainly gripped her weapons like she knew how to use them.

“Michael?”

It was his name, soft and broken and unexpected, and it came from the curly haired brown boy clutching an arrow in his hands.

“You know this guy?” the older girl asked, and the other boy – this one blond – peered at him from behind his glasses in a way that looked distinctly Athena-kid-like, except for the bright blue eyes.

“I- yes,” Curly said, sounding like he’d seen a fucking ghost, and Michael scowled at him.  He didn’t recognise him at all – he hadn’t been a camper two years ago, none of them had been, Michael didn’t recognise any of them.  Not the unruly brown curls, not the nasty case of acne, not his voice or even the bow that he used.

Then he made eye contact.

He’d heard the saying ‘eyes are the window to the soul’ many times, but he’d always dismissed it at romanticised bullshit.  Eyes were eyes and they came in many colours and shapes and emotions, but the idea of them being more had never settled well with him.

Curly’s eyes were an unfamiliar blue, but there was something in them that was familiar, that made Michael unwillingly think of camp, of his siblings, of dreams and sun-warmth.  Of all the things he’d missed for the past two years, wrapped up into one condensed thing.

“Dad?” he asked, and it was stupid, Apollo wouldn’t be fucking here, except-

Except it was, wasn’t it?

Fuck.

“Michael!”  The arrow dropped to the ground, and Curly – Apollo, really, what the actual fuck, what had taken him so fucking long and Michael wasn’t stupid, Apollo hadn’t expected to see him – grabbed him in a desperate embrace.

“How many do you have?” the younger girl asked, but she wasn’t threatening Michael with her swords so he was going to take that.  She went unanswered as Apollo started crying into Michael’s shoulder, blubbing things about you’re alive that Michael immediately decided to shut up in a box and not acknowledge until after he was off the fucking floating villa once and for all.

With his dad there, it seemed a lot more possible, even if there was something really weird about him.

“What the fuck is going on?” Michael demanded, intentionally cutting off Apollo’s words.

“That’s what I want to know,” the older girl said, and Michael could see the way her eyes were inspecting his clothes with suspicion.  “So tell me why you’re here.”

Her voice gained a sort of double-layer, subtle enough that Michael knew most people couldn’t hear it, let alone ignore it, but he wasn’t most people.  Drew had bitched about it often enough.

“You’re an Aphrodite kid,” he deducted, pointedly not answering the Charmspeak-layered question.  That would tell her what she needed to know, would stop her wasting her power-

Except she was looking at him with even more open suspicion now, and so was the so far silent blond boy behind her.  Seriously?

“Answer my question,” she said, and the Charmspeak was less subtle and more like a hammer against his ears.

Idiot.  How had Drew or Silena let her out on a quest like that?

He shut down the unwelcome thought that maybe they hadn’t been there to teach her.

“When you stop trying to fucking Charmspeak me,” he growled.  “Apollo, why the fuck are you like this?”  He gestured as best he could whilst trapped by his dad’s arms at the whole not-pretty teenager thing.  He’d never seen Apollo look so not-perfect in his life.

“He’s mortal,” the younger girl – and really, Michael could do with some fucking names, he was going to call her Sword Girl until he got a better one – shrugged, although there was nothing carefree about the action.

That… that was another can of fucking worms that Michael did not want to deal with right then.  His immortal god of a father suddenly mortal.  Great.

Wait.  Fuck.  Was this what the freak meant when he said he was going to replace Apollo?  Fuck, no, Michael was not letting that happen.

“You need to get the fuck off this boat,” he snapped.  “Now.  Why the fuck are you even here, anyway?”

“To steal Caligula’s shoes,” Sword Girl said bluntly.  She was rapidly becoming Michael’s favourite for actually answering his questions with recognisable answers.  Even if they were stupid ones.

“Why?” he despaired.  “What is worth risking your whole damn fucking existence for a pair of fucking shoes?  Or a boat of them?”

“How do you know about that?” Charmspeak Girl demanded (he would have called her Charmspeak Bitch, except Drew was a difficult one to topple from her bitch queen throne), her voice still laced with the fucking useless power.

He fixed her with a glare.  “Stop with the fucking Charmspeak.  It doesn’t fucking work on me, and even if it did it’s not a fucking interrogation power.”

“What do you mean?” formerly Silent-Blond asked, finally inserting himself into the conversation.  Charmspeak Girl looked just as confused, if also frustrated, and Michael realised she really didn’t have a fucking clue.

She was working with his dad, and Michael wasn’t one for dead demigods, either.  Fuck, he was not qualified to teach Aphrodite kids about their own powers, dammit.  Still, he had to say something.

“Charmspeak is based on attraction,” he told her, elbowing his dad in the process because forget Drew and Silena, why hadn’t Apollo thought to explain this shit to her?  “You persuade people that are fucking attracted to you that they want to do whatever the fuck you want.  Works for direct orders.  Doesn’t work for getting the truth out of people when they’re busy saying whatever the fuck they think you want to hear.  Stop relying on the fucking thing, it’s unreliable at best.”

Charmspeak Girl looked like he’d just told her the sky was fucking green.  Duty done, Michael ignored her and turned back to his dad.

“You need to get the fuck off this villa,” he repeated.  “Which of these idiots is your master?” because Michael had been a camper for seven fucking years, he knew the stories.  Every damn time his dad got turned mortal, he got given a demigod master.  Silent-Blond and Charmspeak Girl stared at him like he’d said something unreasonable, while Sword Girl puffed her chest out.

“Me, duh.”

Huh.  Well, at least it wasn’t Charmspeak Girl.

“Get him the fuck away from this villa,” he told her.  “This isn’t fucking worth-”

“There’s a prophecy,” Apollo said, finally talking again.  “We need those shoes, to beat him.”

Well, fuck.

Michael would love to see the freak defeated.  Right now, more than most other fucking things, but he wasn’t letting Apollo get destroyed in the process, which was what was going to happen if his idiot of a currently-mortal dad kept trying to scout across the boats until he stumbled across the right one, and then the right pair of shoes.

No fucking way.

Fuck.

“What fucking shoes?” he demanded, finally pushing Apollo off of him.  Mortal or not, Apollo was still the god of prophecy.  If he was saying shit like that, then Michael couldn’t just tell him to fuck off and ignore it.

“Caligula’s namesake,” Silent Blond finally spoke, still assessing him with those too-sharp, too-bright blue eyes.  Michael still couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t quite an Athena kid, but didn’t have a clue what other options were on the table.  “His childhood shoes.”

Michael sighed and nodded.  “Get the fuck off of this thing,” he told them.  “You don’t stand a fucking chance.”

They bristled, all four of them, and Michael got it, at least from the three demigods.  Of fucking course they didn’t trust him.  Apollo’s reaction hurt a little more, but Michael forced himself to ignore it.  The arrow at his foot caught his attention and he bent down, picking it up and shoving the shaft against his dad’s chest, not entirely certain why except it was an arrow and Michael had always been an archer.

Apollo’s eyes got so wide it would have been funny if Michael wasn’t currently trying to save his dad’s fucking existence.

“Go,” he snarled.  “If you want to be fucking helpful, get one of those fucking landing boats over to ship forty three.”

“And what are you going to do?”  She’d finally dropped the Charmspeak, but her voice was still sharp without it.

Michael scoffed.  “I’m going to go get your fucking shoes.  Now fuck off.”

He didn’t wait for them to respond, ducking back out of the ruined cabin and slipping back into the shadows.

Time to put the last two years of playing hide and seek with the freak’s fucking goons to good use.

----

Okay I don't usually put A/Ns at the end of fics on tumblr, but at this point I want to clarify the Charmspeak thing, because Charmspeak is a power that can very easily go squick so I've spent some time trying to make it not so awful - specifically the implication that every middle-aged adult that Piper charmspeaks is Attracted to a sixteen year old girl. So, the premise I've worked on is that Charmspeak works on by drawing on either attraction (as in somebody already actively attracted either romantically or physically to the Charmspeaker), or for more powerful Charmspeakers like Piper, the potential for attraction (e.g. if a man is straight or bi/attracted to women, then even though he's an upstanding individual who would never dream of being attracted to a teenage girl, because the only thing that skews her out of his demographic is her age, the Charmspeak is still enough to bring them under control despite the lack of active attraction). This also extends to the additional worldbuilding whereby people with no potential for attraction - don't swing that way, or in the case of Michael in all my fics, are both very much aroace and also have no inclination to seek that sort of company anyway - can't be Charmspoken, even by someone as powerful as Piper.

[morocosmos]

FFXIVWrite 2024 Day 3 - Tempest

Masterlist Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Characters/Pairings: Alisaie Leveilleur & Warrior of Light(?) Rating: Teen & Up Additional Notes: Written on make-up Day 8. Follows after this fic, and this one.

Alisaie doesn’t know how late it is when she stirs, save that it is dark in the House of the Fierce. She’d woken abruptly, the dream responsible already forgotten, and now the thoughts of tomorrow’s battle keep her from sinking back into sleep. 

They fill her head with fear and worry: all they stand to gain from taking Doma Castle, and everything that could go wrong. Moro’a’s condition. Whatever’s wrong with him, it’s getting worse; she suppresses a shiver, thinking of the fury in his eyes as he’d challenged Zenos for the second time, white-hot and unrelenting in spite of numerous wounds. Like something trying to break free. 

Alisaie could no longer lie to herself, not when she’d seen it twice now. But where could she begin? She'd ask Krile or Y'shtola, but they're both in Gyr Abania, the former occupied and the latter incapacitated until further notice. Lyse has her own worries, and she doesn't want to burden her further.

“Marvellous,” she mutters, knowing that trying to go back to sleep is futile while she’s like this. Alphinaud is still peacefully asleep, which may be a small mercy, for the last thing she wants is to keep him awake, or worse, make him worry. A walk would settle her mind, keep her thoughts from running too far afield while she reigns them in. She needs to be prepared for tomorrow; she needs to be ready. She couldn't fail the Domans when this was their final chance at liberation.

Climbing out of her futon, she throws on her jacket and tiptoes out of the room, nodding at a handful of others as she passes them by. At least I’m not the only one who can’t sleep. She enters the main hall, where shafts of moonlight bathe the aetheryte in a gentle, glittering glow — just in time to see a shadow slink towards the corridor to her right.

The figure had moved too fast for an idle soldier, and it’s enough to set alarum bells off in Alisaie’s mind. As quietly as she can manage, she follows after, wishing she had her weapons. What if it was a Garlean infiltrator? An assassin she’d missed, presented with the perfect opportunity after they’d slipped from her grasp? 

When she catches sight of the stranger again, they’re halfway through the narrow corridor, already disappearing through the gap of an ajar door — into Moro’a’s room. No! The thought becomes a shout as Alisaie rushes forward and throws the door open. She anticipates a struggle, prepares herself to tackle whoever's trying to harm her friend. She should’ve brought her weapons—

But there is no assailant, no commotion. Only Moro’a himself, who stands with his back to the door. His fists are clenched so tight that they’re trembling, and his breaths are loud and shallow.

“...Moro’a?” She asks, trying not to let uncertainty colour her words. There’s no need to be afraid; it’s just him. “Are you alright?”

He ignores her, exhaling slowly as his posture straightens, and Alisaie bristles — she’s had enough of him avoiding her. She’s about to give him a piece of her mind when suddenly, he speaks.

“You’re the one who has been poking her errant nose around his business.” Moro’a’s voice is different. Sharp, like a honed blade. “Perhaps congratulations are in order. But to tell you the truth, ‘twas only a matter of time. His hold over me is slipping.”

Alisaie instinctively reaches for her rapier, only to remember that she is unarmed. Swallowing her fear, she opens her mouth again and says, “What are you talking about?”

“The night approaches. Soon, I will hold the cards.” Moro’a turns to face her, and what Alisaie sees freezes her in place. The Keeper’s eyes are yellow, bright enough that they seem to glow in the dark of the room. Gone is the calm assurance she knows him for, replaced by something deep and unknowable, cold and churning.

“Who are you?” she dares to ask. “What are you?” The first thing that comes to her mind is voidsent, and she considers calling for help. But Moro’a — or whatever the thing is that’s possessing him reaches forward, grabbing a fistful of her shirt.

“You ask what I am?” he snarls. Alisaie gasps as his eyes flash red, and the darkness seems to close around them, as though preparing to swallow her whole. “I am that which rose from the depths of his soul, here to do that which he cannot do for himself.”

“I am our protector. Our esteem. I am the tempest, the iron sea — and I will be heard!” Moro’a shoves her back, and fear finally overpowers Alisaie’s will, sending her scrambling out of the room and shutting the door with a slam. The wood is cold against her back as she slides down into a shaking heap.

No more skulking about. She has to tell someone.

[troutfur]

Sknce you're in need of more female character promots: I'm on a weird Frostfur kick and would kill for a piece from your frost/lion/tiger/golden polycule au with her feelings, particularly after book 5 when Tiger has maimed 2 of her daughters and killed her sister.

I also have a prompt involving Goldenflower in the askbox that would go really, really well as a companion piece to this one. So I'll be trying to tackle these two to finish up days 19 and 20. I do best with talky fics so I'm gonna need her to be there to provide a back and forth. And it's a good way to add some tension and exposit a bit about the things going on with the pfurr dynamic concept that make this one so fascinating.

(Want a chance at having your prompt picked for one of the last 10 days we have of November? Check out my guidelines and submit it. The more I have to pick from the better.)

Even outside the medicine den Frostfur could still smell the distinctive tang of blood. It clung to the insides of her nostrils like a tick to an elder’s fur. And in every moment that she couldn’t see to her daughter it bit, it bit without any chance for her to lodge it out.

She’d seen how her children had reacted, Brackenfur, Thornpaw, and even Cinderpelt barred by Yellowfrang from disturbing her, from spending their every waking moment observing, fretting, getting in the way of the delicate care Brightpaw required right now. She had to be firm with her now adult children, make them control the immense grief they felt for their sister (and their brother, Frostfur thought, they did afterall grew up with him as one), set the example even though she desperately wanted to give in to the same impulse as they were feeling.

Yellowfang updated them daily and Fireheart continued to brief the whole of camp on the situation out on the territory daily as well. And with both of them the situation seemed at an impasse. It wracked her with anxiety. How long would it be until Brightpaw is beyond recovery? How long would it be until someone tried the same thing as her daughter? How long could they still live like this, the thorns erected to protect them turned into a cage?

As Frostfur pondered these questions, seated upon her nest despite the sun at its height, she saw from the entrance to the warriors’ den a distinctive golden tabby pelt. “May I share your nest for a few moments?” she asked, bowing her head.

It had been quite a few moons since they stopped sharing one. It was now much smaller than when it was four of them. Still she shuffled aside and did her best to make room for the larger queen.

A part of her wanted to be furious with her, tell her that she had rejected her children from the moment she had denied to denounce that bloodthirsty traitor, that she had been the one to put them on his crosshairs. But that really wasn’t fair. Tigerclaw had joined the golden littermates in their nest first. And it had been her decision to seek entry into Lionheart’s nest rather than the other way around, even if Brindleface would’ve been amenable to the idea.

nd Goldenflower hadn’t really had a choice. The only other sire in her nest she could name would’ve been her brother, so between staining his reputation, raise suspicion around her loyalty, and just letting the Clan carry on assuming what they already were she simply let it all take its course. At least that way she knew she hadn’t made her predicament worse.

“I’m really sorry I didn’t notice earlier,” Goldenflower began. “It was... I really don’t even know how I failed to realize it, how I couldn’t see the warning signs, the hostility between my brother and him, the--”

“I don’t blame you,” Frostfur said with a sigh. “It’s not going to help Brightpaw get better... and it’s not like I was any better in that regard. I could’ve noticed as well. It’s also my fault.”

Goldenflower solemnly nodded, wrapping a paw around her former nestmate to bring her into a hug. “Faith in StarClan is all we have right now. And we mustn’t give it up lest we end up like Bluestar.”

“Faith in StarClan is all we have,” Frostfur echoed. “I have my own apology to offer.”

“If anything that should be me,” Goldenflower replied. “I left you when you needed me most. And even if in the eyes of the Clan I would no longer be a pipfurr to your children, between us I could always be.”

“Still it was an inconsiderate thing for me to do,” Frostfur replied.

“We can talk more about that and how it made me feel after Brightpaw is doing better,” Goldenflower said, pushing her into her chest deliberately. “For now please do not carry that burden. Now is not the time.”

[storms-path]

FFXIV Write 2024: Day 17 - Sally

Lyse groaned, her head falling onto the desk in front of her with a defeated thud. Try as she might (and try she had, repeatedly over the past several bells), she could see no way out of her predicament. The wording was frustratingly air-tight, and it spelled trouble. Of course Lolorito would find some nasty little thing to sneak into the paperwork. Bastard. If all went according to his whims, he would soon snatch up the entire Saltery, and a good chunk of the land surrounding it too. All because Lyse had failed to read the fine print when she’d signed that damn contract to revitalise it. The fine print which had given Lolorito an expanding share in the enterprise the longer it ran.

She had no choice but to concede defeat and try to find a way to break the bad news to the rest of the council. Perhaps together they could put their heads together and find a solution. Or perhaps they could summon the Resistance and make sure Lolorito’s grubby little hands stayed out of Ala Mhigo. No, perhaps not. Ala Mhigo’s position was shaky enough in the Eorzean Alliance, and several among Gridania’s senior leaders were old enough to look for any excuse to re-ignite the Autumn War. Never mind that the Garlean Empire was gearing up for another round at re-conquest any day now, most likely.

Lyse barely heard the quiet creak of the door to her office opening, but she paid it no mind. It was likely M’naago, ready to make another attempt at getting Lyse out of her office and back to her room. She yawned, none too quietly. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a good night’s sleep. Probably the night before Arashi had left for the First again. But given what they had been up to that night, perhaps not quite that one.

A pair of hands laid themselves on Lyse’s back. She tensed, ready to shoo away her unwanted guest. “For the last time, ‘Naago, I’m- oh…” Lyse’s complaint died as the same hands started gently massaging her aching shoulders. “I didn’t know you knew how to do that. A little lower… Oh! Right there, ‘Naago! Perfect…” Lyse closed her eyes, ready to relax for a short while. Surely a few minutes of rest wouldn’t hurt…

“I think you have me mistaken for someone else,” murmured a very familiar voice in her ear. In her exhaustion, it took Lyse a moment to realise who it was. Then a jolt shot through her as she whirled around to face her guest. Arashi grinned down at her… for all of a few seconds as Lyse tackled her to the ground with a delighted laugh. The floor, Lyse found, was a great equaliser, even if Arashi protested at being thrown to the ground so roughly. She was the Warrior of Light, she could handle it.

“Good to see you too,” managed Arashi once Lyse had gotten her share of kissing in. “Everything alright?” She must have seen Lyse’s tension as she entered. Not that Lyse had been trying to hide it, but still.

“It’s nothing, really,” Lyse tried, but Arashi was already wriggling out of her grasp and standing up to look at the desk. Her expression darkened as she saw the details, hands balling into fists. She turned to Lyse with a scowl.

“Who else knows about this?” she asked, less a note and more a strongly worded letter of fury in her voice. It was perfectly obvious that she wasn’t going to let go now she’d learned of the situation.

“Just me, and presumably Lolorito.” Lyse pushed herself to her feet. “But please, Arashi, don’t do anything stu-”

Too late. Arashi was already gone. Vanished in a rush of aether. Several minutes later she returned, grabbed the contract on Lyse’s desk, and proceeded to rip it entirely to shreds. “I’ve solved the problem,” she declared, slapping a new, clearly hastily-drawn-up contract on the table. “Sign on the line and I’ll ferry it back to Ul’dah.”

“Now hold on just a minute,” cried Lyse, now rather angry herself. “Just what did you do to make Lolorito change his mind? You didn’t threaten him, did you?” Not that Lolorito didn’t deserve a good threatening, but Arashi couldn’t just go throwing her weight around every time Ala Mhigo ran into problems. Arashi simply shook her head in response.

“Threats wouldn’t work on that man even if I tried. I just spoke to him in his language, that’s all.” Meaning money, most like. “Anyway, I watched Lolorito like a hawk when he drafted up the new contract. Should all be fine.” Arashi thought for a moment, then added, “Probably best to have the council check it anyway.”

Lyse’s anger dimmed a little, replaced by worry. “Just what did you promise him to make him give up his lion’s share?”

“Promised? I didn’t promise anything. I just bought enough of his shares to keep him from throwing his weight around, that’s all.” She said it so casually, as if she’d gone to the market to pick up some apples.

“But that’s… That must have cost you a fortune! Will you be alright? Did you take out a loan with him? How could you afford that so easily?”

Arashi, for her part, had the decency to look embarrassed. “Look, I don’t talk about this often, but I have… quite a lot of gil lying around.” She wouldn’t meet Lyse’s eyes as she continued. “I left most of it with Tataru for safe-keeping, but between the Scions’ stipends, all the sums I’ve received as thanks for my adventuring work, selling off Hancock’s ‘gifts’ and the heaps of money that Hien unearthed in my clan’s vaults, I’ve got more money than I could possibly need. I’m apparently a multi-gilionaire at this point.”

Lyse could only stare, dumbfounded. “You… What? But you live so frugally, you keep such a light coinpurse, you grit your teeth over every luxury you’re presented with! How could you… Why are you…?”

Arashi bristled. “I spent five years with nothing but my wits, a half-broken lance and whatever gil I could take from the bodies of bandits. I don’t like spending more than I need to. And besides,” Arashi continued with a grimace, “The moment you mention you have money, people start treating you… strangely. Less like a person and more like a coinpurse on legs. So I keep it secret and give as much as I can to those that need it.”

Suddenly things started falling into place. The Domans who found their home in Mor Dhona finding themselves with an ample gift of gil from an anonymous source, the Brume receiving funding to build better homes and heating for its residents, all the little aspects of Ala Mhigo’s revitalisation getting injections of money to be realised, and at much better quality than initially hoped for.

“You just can’t help it, can you? You’ve got to keep helping people, but you don’t want them to know it’s you doing it.” That was Arashi to a tee. Constantly wanting to lift up the people around her, but hating the attention it brought. Even now she was staring at the floor, face flushed and tail coiled around her leg.

“Well, there is one other thing. I’ve been… saving for something. Something big. Something I’m not ready to talk about, not yet. But it’s going to need a lot of gil. Maybe even more than I have.” Arashi cleared her throat, still clearly abashed but able to look at Lyse again. “Sorry, I should have told you earlier. But I didn’t want you to think I was like those Ul’dahn merchants, constantly scheming and trying to get more gil. I don’t want it, but if I have it I might as well use it to help people.”

Lyse smiled, pulling Arashi into her arms. “Thank you.” She kissed Arashi’s crown as the au ra leaned into her. “For this, even if you could have run this by me before rushing off.” She received a muffled “sorry” against her chest in response. Still, it lifted a weight from Lyse’s shoulders. And, happily enough, freed up her schedule for the remaining hours of her day.

“What do you say we go out for a stroll?” Lyse asked, hooking her fingers around Arashi’s hand. The sun cast a perfectly golden glow over the city beneath. Winter was starting to creep in around the edges, but it had yet to truly arrive. Warm enough to go out to the Lochs and relax for a spell.

Arashi smiled, gently uncoiling herself from Lyse’s grasp. “I thought you’d never ask.”

[fruit-salad-ship]

Have you considered, Gladiator AU, Grey and Peach sparring and then it gets a little spicy before they realize wait Plum is watching.

Gladiator AU is building itself, with your suggestion in mind, lets see here...

So Peach got sold into the arena life as a young child, starting with helping warriors gear up, feeding people, feeding animals, moving bodies from the pit, removing gear. A lot of things a child shouldnt have had to do, but she started to pry, ask the fighters questions, practice wielding a sword at a young age, and while she failed, the people who came and went would either be cruel, or leave her with a tip or trick, and so she gained a lot of infomration in a short period of time about fighting and the nature of men, most of which was negative. Her brutality grew it had to for her survival, for her safety, and she snapped at her boss one time too many. They put her in the Arena as a half time joke, put a woman in, theres no way she'd come out alive right? But she did, and she kept doing it. Never given personal space, no room of her own, no door to lock at night to feel safe behind, or posessions to hold dear. She lived to fight, and fought to live, a vicious circle of expecting not to come out of the pits in one piece. If she was the meanest thing in the room, no one would touch her, no one would mess with her, she was safe for a moment.

Her biggest battle to date she won, and the person hosting, a young and quite pretty socilaite from a powerful family offered her a gift, asking her to remove the helmet so she could see the face of the victor. Plum, unaware of this gladiators reputation, watches a woman reveal herself, and is instantly fascinated. Not often you saw this happen. Peach asked for her freedom, still under ownership of the colleseum, and Plum obliged that in the only way possible at the time. She bought up Peach's contract, a hefty price for one warrior, but she'd becoem quite infamous and so the price tag went up. Peach was devestated at first, from frying pan to fire, she was still not free, but took this as a next step at the least. For what it was worth the pay was better as a personla guard, and the chances of death far lower. She was shown to a small room, a bed and some simple furniture, and asked to go to the head of Plums security detail for gear and further instruction. That being Grey. Now Grey was at teh fight, he saw her win, and was just as shocked to see her reveal herself. When Peach finally strode into the barracks to find him he was ready with gear, but first wanted to see Peach fight first hand, with a better sword and less distraction.

The rest of the staff found it impossible not to watch the two clash, Peach was quietly confident, and Grey saw her get a little hot under the collar as he caught her off guard, smacked a shield hard into her ribs to stagger the woman back a few paces. He was good, but she was quick, and the two found it an even match for what felt like an hour or two. It was a draw, both dripping with sweat, but...smiling? They'd met their match. Peach proved herself, and Grey earned her respect. Late nights were the worst, Peach found it impossibly boring being a personla guard, safe sure but dull. This life was slow compared to the arena. After a week of nothing happening, no attackers, no intruders, nothing but boring patrols and mindless drills, Grey threw the new hire a bone. A rematch to kill time, something Peach jumped at. Yet again they seemed to come to a stale mate, skills though different seemed evenly matched. With no one watching, Grey decided perhaps he could have a little fun with the newbie, instead of being on the defence, really swinging wide and heavy out of no where after being so controlled and collected. It got Peach on the back foot, being unprepared, block after block taken well, but a cheap shot, Grey kicking dirt up in her face forced her to raise a shield to try to block anything coming in. It was not enough.

Peach got tackled down, sword clattering across ornate tiles, still struggling to see, the painful compression on her chest of an impossibly heavy body marking defeat. "You cheat!" Grey laughed, knelt to keep her pinned, watching her squirm, getting a cheap shot in at his ribs with her fist, enough to get some of his weight off her. The wrestle for control was tough. It was the slew of swearing and metal gear scraping that awoke their boss in the dead of night, her elegant little form creeping back to her balcony to see a familiar sight in the dead of night, light from sconces picking out the flash of silvers and golds.

Meanwhile Greys got Peach's arm brace held, stopping her moving, she undoes the strap and frees herself, it gets thrown, but he's not giving her the option to get up and retaliate, grabs the front of her chest plate and keeps her pinned, unable to stop her loosing the straps, kicking his chest so he and her gear gets pushed back. She's down to a shirt, but does not quit. Grey has one key vulnerability, she knocked his helmet off at the very start and his gear isnt covering his neck. Peach takes a leap off a stone pillar, valting to get up to his height, legs wrapping around his neck, taking them both down to the floor. He had not expected the move, huge form brought to its back. She unsheathed the small dagger on HIS belt and held it, one hand on the back of its hilt at his face, not striking, but making it clear he'd have been dead if this was real.

He laughed and she was able to sit back, still atop his chest, both panting from the exertion of the fight. "I guess theres worse ways to end up with a gilr on top of me." Peach felt ther face heat up, slapping him on the arm hard. "Dont be an ass just because you lost." "Wouldnt call this so bad a loss." Grey's grin was cheeky, and forced her to start to get up. IT was at that point they both heard a twig snap, looking to the home they were suppose to guard, in the tended gardens their boss watching, wine in hand looking very smug. Plum sauntered a little closer, Peach getting up at speed, taking several steps back, realising she was out of gear, this looked way worse than it was. "Dont let me interupt you two, you were having fun." Grey grunted getting up, his gear weighing him down, feeling Plums hand brush his cheek as she walked past, not stopping to see him, continuing to see the new girl, who'd become quite nervous, standing to attention, flinching from the light touch that took note of the bare skin on her side, exposed now her gear was thrown to one side. Sure, maybe the young royal was revelling in her rather expensive addition to security, she planned to let Peach go free sure, but just not right away. Had to enjoy having her around for a little while right? "You're wasted under all that armour." Peach said nothing, mortified by the turn of events, even Grey ambled over and shunted her shoulder in a jovial way, not enough to knock her out of her now very stern and controlled behaviour. He could joke around, he wasnt the new hire, she however was not about to step out of line anytime soon. Both Plum and Grey let her grab her things and go, back to the routine, shuffling off fast out of embarrasment, leaving the old friends in a quiet moment. "So she beat you." Plum hooked her arm through his instinctivley, having him walk her back to her room, an act he did freely without request. "Seems that way. The Gladiator in her is surely a force to be reckoned with. She refuses to give in even when she's on the back foot." "Mm, a good addition then. You approve?" This week had been Grey's chance to test her, see just how hard she'd work and if she would be capable of the work with Plum. She had been compliant with every job he'd given to her. "No question, she'll fit in well here."

[melishade]

Okay, so, I'm a bit shy in asking this as I'm a huge fan of your story and I fear you'll miss this anyway, but sod it, I'm too eager: In the Dark Timeline, Hanji has a really powerful, emotional reaction to Optimus' capture. Like, super powerful. I keep imagining that it's her feelings for him, ignored as they are, coming to a head, as Optimus is easily the closest person to Hanji's heart in your story. Part of me hopes they had a emotional moment together once they got him back. What say you?

Previous episode of the Dark Timeline

Thank you for your ask, and I do read through them. Sometimes it just takes time for me to answer them.

But Hanji! It's not just losing Optimus that really affects her. It's the fact that she believes that she failed as Commander and she's just angry.

Because hearing about Shockwave when he was first brought up has genuinely put some fear in her. Not thrill. Fear. The biggest indicator being that Megatron is off put by the guy he actually hired for his cause. The apparent justification being 'it was better to have him on my side than against me.' And Optimus wasn't going to employ him because his experiments were unethical. Shockwave was...terrifying. Just by hearing about him from word of mouth. And it really sounds like Megatron recruiting him was a way to control him.

Hanji does try to lead when they do arrive in Marley to find the War Hammer Titan. She really does. It's just not easy because this is definitely something that's out of her element. She doesn't know the terrain like Megatron and Magath do, since they argue about where the hell they are supposed to go next. She tries to keep the Survey Corps level-headed when it comes to the 104th and the Warriors, which is somewhat working. There seemed to be a change in demeanor after they all saw Liberio. And Hanji couldn't even enjoy the outside world anymore. The safest place to be at the moment was on the island.

But she still tries. Tries to keep the morale up. Tries to find a solution. Tries...everything. She just hopes it's enough. But it wasn't. When they finally do see Shockwave and battle against him, the 3D gear improvements aren't enough. The Survey Corps are dropping like flies. Hanji almost feels her heart rip out of her chest as she hears Sasha screaming for Connie, but there's no time to mourn. She has to dodge every attack coming her way. She has to avoid getting devoured. And then...Optimus is in the Predacon's claws. Being taken away. No. No! NO! What do they do?! What could she do?! She already lost so many because of her incompetency! They had to-.

"Fall back," Megatron ordered.

Hanji stared at Megatron in horror. Was he insane? "What?"

"Did. I. Stutter. FALL BACK!" Megatron roared as he turned to them.

"You don't give the fucking orders!" Hanji screamed at him, "We're getting Optimus!"

And Hanji's ready to fly back in. No! She wasn't going to lose him! She wasn't going to lose him too! Hanji's ready to pull the trigger on her gear, but someone tackles her and drags her away. Hanji is mortified to see that it's Levi. Levi was listening to Megatron's orders. He followed the orders of someone he hated and was leaving Optimus behind. Hanji is now kicking and screaming at the top of her lungs, trying so hard to get out of Levi's grip to get to Optimus. She's screaming Optimus' name with tears down her face, and it makes her feel worse when everyone else is following Megatron's order.

When they get on the boat to retreat to the island, Hanji is screaming in fury at Levi, throwing every insult and slur that she could. When they got back to the island, Hanji shoves Levi out the way and immediately tries to get to work. Ripping off her 3D gear to make adjustments and try to fix. They needed to find a way to get Optimus back and they needed to do it now. She's drowning everything out.

Megatron comes to her, and Hanji is ready to insult the fucker, but Megatron is asking for her help because Zeke tampered with the wine and infected the military and they need to contain him. Hanji relents and tells him about raw energon being effective in slowing down regeneration and aids him in getting the syringe for it. She wants so bad for punishing Zeke to make her feel better. If Zeke had told them in the first place what was going on, then Optimus would still be here. And he wasn't. But seeing Zeke get what he deserved didn't change the fact that Optimus was gone.

Hanji shuts herself off after that. The more time passes, the more hope Hanji begins to lose. She's trying so hard to remake and remodel the 3D gear to improve it. She only interacts with people to discuss the model, have them use it, and then immediately make adjustments of her own. Hanji notices that Megatron has practically taken over Survey Corps command, the Military is begging for Megatron's help and guidance, and Levi is following his orders. It makes her sick and resentful. She can't sleep. Any time she tries, she's plagued by nightmares about Shockwave and his army, and that feeling of dread at seeing Optimus taken away.

Levi does try to talk to her and check in on her, make sure that she's taking care of herself. But Hanji looks so dead to the world that none of his old methods work, and Levi himself feels just as guilty for abandoning Optimus, but he can't show it. Hanji immediately shuts Levi out and tells him to leave her alone and go follow Megatron's orders like a fucking dog. Hanji is just so angry that she isn't even realizing what she's saying or who's she's hurting. Hanji tries going into her office the next day after getting something to eat, but...the door is locked. She tries to pry it open, but it's almost like it's welded shut.

"I never thought I would see an emotion other than anger and contempt out of Levi." Megatron made himself known in holoform, "But you've managed to make him feel sorrow. I don't know if I should applaud you, or be annoyed by you."

Hanji realizes that Megatron locked the door and demands he open it. But Megatron's not going to let her. Not until she actually takes the day off. Hanji refuses. Megatron's not relenting. And Hanji is just unleashing more of her anger at him. Maybe if he had gotten Optimus back in the first place instead of running like a coward, they wouldn't be in this mess. She thought that the whole point of Megatron staying here in the first place was to make things right with Optimus, but you leave him for dead instead?! What the fuck is wrong with you?! What was this even about?! Did you want control of the island?! Was this some long convoluted plan to regain power and that he was secretly working with Shockwave?! She thought that Megatron was some powerful fighter who bowed to no one, but he was just a coward like the rest of them!

Megatron slammed his fist in the wall, leaving a noticeable dent in it. Hanji feels cautious, but surprisingly Megatron controls his anger. And tells her that Optimus' last order to him was to protect them. Protect the humans. Protect the island. Protect the Survey Corps. Protect her. That was Optimus' last order to him before he got captured, because Optimus was too sacrificial for his own damn good. Megatron felt horrible for leaving Optimus behind, but if they didn't Shockwave would've hunted them all down and killed them all. Everyone would have died if they went back for Optimus.

And Megatron gets that Hanji cares deeply for Optimus. He wasn't blind to that, but he's sick and tired of Hanji believing that she is the only one who care about him. Everyone does! But she kept drowning herself in her science that she hasn't been able to see how this situation is affecting everyone! Megatron has to deal with everyone else's feelings and be a support! And he doesn't fucking want to, but he has to! Megatron tells Hanji that he needs her alive. Because she is the only one who can fix the 3D gear right now and give the Survey Corps a fight chance against Shockwave. But he can't have her acting like a recluse fucking bitch the entire damn time. Megatron shoves her down the hall and orders her to rest and recover. If she doesn't, she's not allowed to do her research.

Hanji spits out a 'fuck you' before leaving. And without her closing herself off, she sees the actual chaos around her after the rescue. The fighting, arguing, the fear everyone is feeling. Resentent, hatred, sadness, everyone was just afraid. And it's too much. It's too loud. She needed to go somewhere where it felt safe and quiet. She needed an old friend, and...she wasn't sure if Levi wanted to talk to her. Now that her head was clear, she realized that she's been treating him like shit. Oh god, she's been such a bitch.

She needed to see a familiar face, so she takes a horse and goes to Erwin's home. She knocks on his door, Erwin opens it, and just sees Hanji's state and immediately brings her inside.

"I heard about what happened," Erwin remarked.

"Yep," Hanji shrugged as tears filled her eyes, "I fucked up, Erwin."

And they just sit and talk. Erwin gets those gritty details not mentioned in the papers and feels terrible for Hanji as she's trying to explain and drown her sorrows with whiskey. She's complaining about how Megatron has practically hijacked the Survey Corps and is leading them while Levi is following his fucking command. Levi?! Following Megatron?! And Megatron defending humanity?! It's almost laughable! And it's fucking distressing! And it makes her feel like shit! Because she tried so hard to do the right thing, but everything when to shit under her command! Half of the Survey Corps were gone and Optimus got captured because she couldn't lead! And Megatron was somehow able to pick up the pieces when she couldn't! She failed! And now Optimus, the only one who had the actual patience and kindness to deal with her, the only one who looked at her like she was someone special and brilliant, the only one who didn't look at her like she was a freak, was going to die because of her! She cared too much about him to lose him but she failed him!

Hanji hunched over and covered the back of her neck with her hands. "Erwin, you were wrong to choose me as your successor."

Erwin...takes this all in. This isn't easy to digest. He hadn't heard back from Megatron in months considering the plan they initially had. And Erwin only found out about what happened with Megatron through the paper. Nile was extremely busy, and Kenny left once he realized their plan was over. Erwin was all alone again. This was so much worse than he imagined. Erwin takes a deep breath, releases, and tells her to keep on trying. No matter what. Yes it sucks. It hurts. This won't be her first failure as Commander, and being a member of the Survey Corps is always going to mean loss. But if she gave up now, then all the people who gave their lives trying for a better world would have been for nothing.

"Hanji, I was selfish in my endeavor as Commander," Erwin explained, "But you were always honest and truthful. You embody the emblem of the Survey Corps, and I don't regret choosing you as my successor."

Hanji sleeps at Erwin's place and takes in those words. She stares at her Survey Corps pancho, the emblem staring her in the face, and she knew that she needed to be better, and honor what it meant to be a member of the Survey Corps. She wasn't going to let their sacrifices be in vain, especially not Optimus', since he provided a distraction to save thousands of lives. She was going to fight.

Hanji goes back in two days, which was surprising given the circumstances, but Erwin didn't mind housing her and helping her get her head on straight. Megatron is there when she arrives, makes a snide remark, and Hanji tells him to shut up before snatching the key to her office from his hand and opening the door to work. But she's not as closed off as before. She does ask Megatron to be kept into the loop about certain meetings and updates on island politics. She's talking with the Survey Corps again, and is advising the Warrior Cadet to try and learn the 3D gear so they could have an extra weapon going up against Shockwave incase their titan powers failed. Hanji and Levi...are still strained. They haven't...really talked to each other. Neither of them knowing what to say.

Arcee and Wheeljack arriving is a turning point. And it's one of hope. Sure things were tense when they first arrived, but they were helping. They provided manpower, and Wheeljack was someone who also dabbled in science and engineering. Wheeljack making the off-handed comment about improving the 3D gear sparked something in her she long thought dead, and demanded that the two work together to improve the device. The Survey Corps and Megatron see that reignite passion in Hanji's eyes, and when Wheeljack and Hanji finally make those improvements that Hanji has been so desperately trying to figure out, the sheer joy that Hanji felt was infectious.

But then Wheeljack says that Shockwave's ship is on their radar. The Survey Corps want to go and help, but Megatron tells them that they need to get their fast before they somehow lose the signal. If there was the slightest chance that Optimus was alive, they needed to take it now! Megatron brings Eren along because of a pact the two made, and the Survey Corps and Warriors could only listen in through the comm. link system on the neutral ship. They can hear the shouting, the arguing, the fighting, someone is crying, and they are all just holding their breath in anticipation, and Wheeljack says those words. "We got him! Let's go!"

The Survey Corps head south. They don't know where they are going to land, but it's a gamble. Sasha manages to guide them, and Hanji nearly burst into tears at the sight of Eren holding a wounded, but alive Optimus. And a weight felt like it got lifted off of her shoulders as she hugged him. The relief and joy she felt...only to be met with more dread as Optimus passed out from his wounds, with a warning about dark energon and the Porco Galliard. Megatron is able to explain that Shockwave has a Cortical Psychic Patch, meaning that he had access to all of Optimus' memories since coming to this world. On top of the fast that Shockwave might have dark energon in his possession. And Optimus' condition is really touch and go, considering Arcee, Wheeljack, and Megatron were not medical professionals.

They all take shifts watching Optimus, and it breaks Hanji's heart to see someone she so deeply cares about in such a state. It felt like she failed all over again. She felt powerless to do a thing. Damn, this sucked. She sees Levi sitting next to her, telling her that they need to switch in the rotation. Hanji doesn't get up though. She wants to say something to Levi, but she just couldn't find the words.

"Levi....I-,"

"I'm sorry, Hanji," Levi cut her off.

Hanji shook her head. "What? No, Levi. I've been such a bitch to you."

"...I've been scared," Levi confessed, "This whole Shockwave situation has been making me feel afraid for you and..." Levi swallowed, "Everyone else. When everything went to shit that day, and Megatron looked just as terrified as the rest of us, it just reminded me about Erwin. I knew we had to cut our losses, and I knew I had to stop you because you would've gone after Optimus and gotten yourself killed. I don't regret that decision; it saved lived. I just didn't mean to hurt you in the process."

And now Hanji just feels worse. Levi made a call and Hanji acted like a child about it, when Levi was just as scared as the rest of them. She hugs him and apologizes profusely. She apologizes for being a terrible leader and friend. She apologizes for being selfish and not seeing the bigger picture. She hopes that she can be forgiven, but Levi doesn't say another words and just hugs her back. He does make a comment about her smelling like shit, and it gets a laugh out of Hanji.

Hanji does apologize to Megatron for how she acted and thanks him for taking command when she failed. Megatron tries to justify that it was all for Optimus, but Hanji calls him out on that saying it was bullshit. She hopes that she can make it up to him, and Megatron tells her that she really didn't do anything wrong. He's had worse spirals of madness as leader of the Decepticons, which is why he didn't want to be in a leadership position again. She was pretty tame. She didn't kill anyone in the process.

"Wow, the shitty person of the year still goes to you," Hanji smirked at him, earning an eye roll from the former warlord.

They do decide to work together from now on and make a better effort to not try and be at each other's throats.

When Optimus wakes up and explains the situation to them, Hanji and Optimus do have a conversation in private about how to proceed next. And Hanji explains to Optimus just how shitty she's been, cause she still feels guilty about it. Because she was so distraught when Optimus got capture and Optimus is so important to her, it just affected her decision making and made her look like the asshole. She tries to apologize some more, but Optimus just tells her that he's glad his decision ultimately saved the lives of the humans they were trying to protect. He's glad that not all of the Survey Corps perished and that they are still trying. That's more than enough for himself. Hanji cries and hugs his face.

Although now everyone's kind of protective of Optimus and telling him not to push himself so hard. Hanji actually bribes the Warrior Cadets with more food if they can keep Optimus distracted, because Optimus is growing pretty fond of them.

(Well that was long.)

[bestworstcase]

It's somewhat annoying that a lot of the discourse surrounding the Ever After fixates so much on the idea of Ozma, but barely talks about how it relates to Salem.

It's like everyone has done the same thing that Ozma has done to her: Consign her to being the obvious big bad who the fairy tales will prove wrong.

On a different note; how do you figure things will turn out for Neo?

I'll be honest, I've kinda floated the idea that maybe RWBY will try to help Neo out from whatever she's gonna go through as part of their epiphany on the situation in the Ever After and with the Ozma/Salem War, partly because I think there'd be a bit of a parallel to the whole thing. I just can't quite figure out how it'd work out.

it’s very silly because like… this is explicitly the point in the narrative where the question of how to stop salem is materially tackled, if there was any doubt of that prior to july it should have been laid to rest by the synopsis that dropped with the teaser trailer. moreover she spent v8 undergoing dynamic character development in tandem with cinder while ironwood stepped up as the arc villain, which is the first stroke of narrative delivery of things that were promised in the lost fable, namely that she cannot be forced to stop and so must be persuaded, by engaging with her as a person rather than a monster; not to mention that ‘the girl who fell through the world’ itself is brought into the story in close proximity to salem herself, in both the physical and metaphorical senses. rwby, as i keep saying, is not subtle about any of this.

anyway.

9.3 actually crystallized a lot of my thinking vis-a-vis what the ever after is and where the connection back to the broader narrative lies, particularly as it pertains to neo; i am still on this train with the singular difference that i’m now thinking that neo’s alice might actually be the jabberwalker rather than team rwby, and increasingly i am doubtful that neo is going to become an arc villain simply because so much of the narrative tension now hinges on the danger that team rwby, like alyx, might ruin this world by mistake. with the narrative arc structured so precisely around the trepidation of warriors in a peaceful world i don’t think we properly have room for an arc villain in the typical sense, and neo’s antagonism is thus likely to be restricted to discrete episodic encounters a la the jabberwalker.

one thought rattling around in my head is that the first thing neo does upon landing in the ever after is turn herself into ruby; she has, in essence, been consumed so thoroughly by the desire for vengeance that her own sense of self has been whittled away almost to nothing. when the jabberwalker first gets her attention, she refashions herself into cinder (in neo’s estimation a symbol of power, fearlessness, untouchability); but when this fails to frighten him away, she becomes herself again and her semblance spontaneously pours into the ground beneath her and makes more of her. in… the symbolic sense the jabberwalker’s threat forces neo to rediscover herself, to remember her own strength, shedding the facile illusions of other (in her estimation, better) people she has increasingly been hiding behind. that she and the jabberwalker are quite similar and that the jabberwalker has good reason to be hostile to yang in particular and rwb by association creates a fairly straightforward foundation of mutual interest to be discovered after the mutual startle is worked out (as i am relatively certain it will be, if only because neo does not actually have the means to catch him and the near-universal assumption that she succeeds in beating him up here doesn’t make sense given his demonstrable ability to run away); at the same time, the jabberwalker is far more timid and non-confrontational and his apparent reaction to injury or devastation leans toward healing (“fix!”), not vengeance. that combined ability to empathize with neo’s anger and contrasting constructive orientation strikes me as precisely what she really needs in order to get better, and also completes the rule of three as far as ever after animal companions go.

her interest in fairytales and her personal identification with both ‘the girl who fell through the world’ AND ‘the girl in the tower’ also feel like one of the more obvious doors through which salem might be brought into the ever after’s narrative. i’ve been pondering since last week that the arc narrative might bifurcate such that team rwby gets the ‘identity crisis’ journey while neo and jaune get the ‘learning about salem’ journey and neither question can be wholly answered until the two intersect and everyone comes back together (i would imagine in the rusted knight’s acre, perhaps episode 6 or 7?).

it’s not completely out of the question that neo will instead end up on the more standard v->h track of being offered a compassionate second chance by the heroes, but 1. that’s not particularly rwby’s style and 2. the setup here, with neo having fallen into a different acre altogether hours after team rwby got their bearings and headed out, strikes me more as set up for neo to have her own arc separate from the heroes before she next encounters them.

[anonymousfoz]

Doomsday Uprising Part 4: Revenge & Confusion

Previous | Next The wall of fire rose as the battle continued. “Sir, I can’t hold them anymore. We should retreat!” The girl held onto the wall, attempting to keep control of the only thing that kept away the combined Rebels and Trolls force. She had to get her commander’s approval or the other troops would execute her on-site for leaving her battle position. But Galaxy was not there. He already had left to follow Demi to get his revenge. “Sir?” Before she could turn around. She got an arrow in her left eye. The wall of flames had fallen, and she could not focus on keeping the wall up. Before she knew what was going on, a Troll warrior tackled her and she hit the ground. Falling unconscious as blood soaked her long black hair. All she heard was her name being repeated to her.

“Sodan. SODAN!” the veteran woke up and grabbed her eye patch to put it on. She put on a shirt, leather pants, and a cloth jacket. She came out to see the 8-year-old messenger calling her name. “The hell you want, pipsqueak?” Her tone was much harsher than it was then. After she was abandoned by Galaxy almost 8 years ago, she survived civil wars, warfare, and torture. The kind-hearted version of her was as gone as her eye. “Watch your fu-CK-ing mouth!” Sodan rolled her eyes as the pipsqueak’s voice squeaked and cracked. “The emperor has a mission for you. The horse is already there.” She looked to see a horse in the stalls. The kid tapped her, gesturing for a tip. “Fuck off.” She hissed at him before opening the stall and leading the horse out. She slowly pets its lush mane as she gave it a ripe apple. After a while, she mounted the horse and rode it to the emperor’s castle, in the capital of the planet. When she arrived, someone came to collect her horse. She gave it goodbye with another pat and then headed inside. She headed into the castle, where she suddenly bowed her head as her emperor came in. Not out of respect, but out of habit. “Sodan, you do not have to bow. Your honor, here is enough” What a load of bullshit. Emperor Daffy always hated her since she was living proof he was a failure. He was a coward in the wars and murdered the previous well-liked emperor Vite. Sodan was the only one who knew of the assassination. “I have a mission for you, as the child had told you.” “What is it?” She scowled. This meant nothing good for her either way. “To murder him. You know who.” She did, “but if you fail, don’t plan on coming back.” This caused her to stop. It was a suicide mission. He was just trying to get rid of a loose end. With a grin on his face, he knew she figured it out. “You either come back the hero or die the unknown veteran. Understood?” He put his hand on her shoulders as he looked down at her. “Understood, sir!”

“Good. A spaceship with supplies is being prepared. I do believe you have already been planning for this day. Good luck.” She walked off, wishing she could had murdered him right where he had stood.

She sat on the spaceship she was given. The ride to this nuclear wasteland was long and tiresome. However, for a nuked planet, she could barely tell that it at one point was bombed with atomic weapons. She had gotten all the information she needed on Galaxy’s routine. Galaxy came out to hunt the nearby elk population towards the start of sunrise. It gave Sodan enough time to prepare for an ambush. This had been the day she was waiting for, for over 8 years. Today was the day. She had camouflaged her outfit and wore a black cloak with leather armor meant to help fit into the wild. A black fox mask was to hide her identity in case he remembered her, if he did. She headed out of her spaceship early. She had her bow and sword. She did not need arrows, as she could make some appearance with her spells. While being out of combat, she took up on her studies. Her magical abilities had exceeded most, however, her physical ability could have been better. But it was too late now to improve. She spent the next hour building traps and waiting. She had decided to get into a tree to get to higher ground. She climbed to a spot where the sun would directly hit her. It was not long before she dozed off. The veteran did not get any sleep on the long ride to the planet. Accidentally, falling asleep is the best thing to happen to her, as she needed to be well rested for the battle upcoming.

The painful cries of an elk that fell into a trap had awoken Sodan. The trap intended for Galaxy, but an elk and fallen victim to its devices. She looked over and saw the ginger man look confused at why his prey suddenly died before sensing there was something wrong. Before he could arm himself, Sodan had summoned an arrow and put it in her bow. She pulled back the string and aimed to hit his arm. The arrow had made contact, but didn’t seem to pierce skin instead of hitting his chest plate. The chest plate’s metal was made of some black material, it could be obsidian. However, she had no time to think, as the battle was now on. He summoned an axe in his hand. The wood was one that Sodan could not name off her head. It must have been wood native to this planet, and the blade was the same as the chest plate. She had teleported down to behind the man and swung her sword. The two clashed, the sounds of the blades clashing scared off many birds. Sodan didn’t realize that Galaxy was remaining defensive and not attacking that much, only deflecting. After one miscalculation from Sodan, Galaxy had swapped from defensive to offensive, applying pressure and forcing the female warrior into a vulnerable position. Sodan was beginning to run out of options, as Galaxy was much stronger than he was in the past. Her anger was quickly rising as she began frustrated at herself and at the ginger man. She suddenly tackled Galaxy, pouring her anger out at him with every punch. Her anger blinded her to realize that Galaxy was purposely getting hit. She wasn’t focusing on anything but making him suffer. Using some magic, Galaxy had made a tree limb above Sodan begin to fall. The branch had landed on Sodan’s head with a loud crash, and the veteran fell unconscious. Galaxy pushed Sodan off of himself and started to take deep breaths to calm himself down. His nose was bleeding from the beating he took from Sodan. He looked over at the veteran, who was now not getting up. He went over to check her pulse, the impact could have enough to kill her, but it gladly didn’t. The man heard more footsteps to see some hunters coming up the hill to aid him. However, the conflict was over. “Galaxy, are you alright? Do we need to torture the attacker?” One had asked. “Or grab some bandages from the village?” “No, Erbus, I am fine. I will deal with the attacker. There is a herd of boars west of here.” Galaxy informed the hunter. “Make sure everyone is fed and I will take the leftovers.” “On it, Galaxy! Let’s go troops.” The head hunter led his group west. Galaxy picked up the veteran and walked back towards his village.

Sodan had awoken in an unknown place. She was surprised that she was not tied up and not under any known supervision. The assassin had been bandaged and had a serve headache. She attempted to get up up before something pushed her back into the chair, sitting her back down. “Please stay seated. It’s for your health and to make sure you hurt no one else,” Galaxy coldly reminded. He was clearly upset, but Sodan did not give a fuck. He could rot in hell for all she cared. “Like I would want to listen to you” “You’re magically bound to that chair. If you get back up, you will be pushed back into the chair.” He had a point. Who cared? After that, she stopped talking. A couple minutes of silence went by. “Why are you here?” He asked, curious. “To kill you for-“ “For your clan of Firey Rebels. Because it will show Daffy is a success if I die during his reign. I already know.” He paused and talked off to grab a sandwich. “But that’s not the true reason you came. Sure, it’s keeping you alive, but you could have run off to another clan. You decided to come and attack instead of trying to take me out of my sleep. It’s almost as if you have a personal vendetta against me.” Sodan took off her, quickly took off her mask. “That is because you left me on that battlefield to keep that wall of fire up. Which costed me an eye. I should had retreated since death would had been better than the suffer I been through the past 8 fucking years!” She had yelled more. All the years of pent up anger suddenly came out then and she could not recall what had happened during that time. After Galaxy had gone silent. “Look who is quiet now. Do I not matter? Because you made it seem I didn’t when you left my side that day!” “I’m sorry.” “You’r- what?” “I’m sorry. I forgot about the retreating rule and ran after Demi to try to get revenge for someone who didn’t deserve it. The defeat was my fault. I should had stayed with you on the battlefield, but I was lost in anger, like you were a minute ago. My defeat was quick and was exiled here. My hubris got in the way of my leadership and victory, but in the end, it would have led to the loss of more lives.” He truly sounded sorry. His voice had lowered. He walked over and handed her the sandwich he had got. “What revenge did you need to get?” She took the sandwich and took a bite out of it, her tone still aggressive, despite 8 years of rage was now out of her system. She seemed to change to a more relaxed stance. Sodan was still slightly upset, but it seemed to not be at Galaxy. She wasn’t expecting him to be sorry. She was just angry at the universe now, but this anger would bubble down into confusion. “Revenge for my father, Drippy. A villain to tried bring down clans and make it everyone fend for themselves, including me and my other father. I was too dumb to realize it until Demi told me. But over the years, she’s become my family with everyone else here.” There was another brief silence. “So you are aware that Daffy is coming, right?” Sodan paused, taking another bite before responding. “He is?” “Yes. He won’t get close to the village. He should be landing shortly nearby where we fought. We can head there after you finish your sandwich.” Sodan hadn’t noticed that the binding keeping her to the floor was gone. Galaxy had walked off to prepare some armor and to tell his village about the incoming threat as she finished the sandwich.

[overgrowth-wc]

Teaselpaw is struggling to adapt to the life of a warrior, but might have an out she didn't think possible. Plus, conspiracies abound. 

             Teaselpaw was slumped outside the medicine den, watching the comings and goings of her clanmates with heavy lidded eyes. It had been another very hard day of training, and she was exhausted. Although it had been over a moon since she had joined Windclan, she was still struggling to adapt to their way of life. She was physically at a distinct disadvantage compared to her clanmates- her short stature and limbs just didn’t have the reach that most Windclan cats had and relied on in their fighting and hunting techniques, and finding work arounds or different techniques was slow going. To Gorsestorm’s credit, he never got overly frustrated or gave up on her- he approached the challenges with the same vaguely annoyed but dogged determination he seemed to tackle every situation with. But still, they would train until Teaselpaw couldn’t take another step. She much rather enjoyed the evenings after training was done, when she sat with Gorsestorm, Heathernose, and Kiteclaw, listening to stories and learning the different rules of Clan life. Or when Gorsestorm would let her off early, and she’d visit Kestrelcall, listening to both his advice and words about Starclan, something that seemed so wondrous to her. And then nights were spent chatting and laughing with her new friends before bunking down, safe, warm, and loved. So there were definitely a lot of positives, but… there was also the small, unsettling part of her that also just… hated training. Especially battle training- the thought of fighting another cat made her sick to her stomach, and she ate dirt in every sparring match she was in. It was anxiety inducing, squaring up against her friends, as well as embarrassing to fail in front of the other mentors. Palesky and Leafspring, Cinderpaw and Dipperpaw’s mentors, usually didn’t comment, but Shalestar was always trying to help. Her efforts were genuine, and she did offer good advice, but Gorsestorm always seemed tense and irritated whenever she got involved. Teaselpaw much rather preferred hunting practice, which was just her and Gorsestorm- she had yet to catch a rabbit on her own, but at least she could help Gorsestorm and not completely fail. As it stood, she didn’t regret joining the clan, but she was starting to seriously doubt her place in it. And then there were those strange dreams that kept happening…

              It seemed almost every night she dreamed the forgotten dream, or dreamt of the tortoiseshell molly who seemed cursed to only ever whisper justice. Teaselpaw was also somewhat disquieted at the idea she knew who this molly was- Cinderpaw had told her the story of Poppypaw and Falconstar, pulling her aside one quiet afternoon when neither of them was busy. It’s hard for Dipper to talk about it, of course, he had said sadly, but Silver struggles too. She practically idolized Poppypaw, and it’s been hard for her to get along without her. That night, when Teaselpaw dreamt of the tortoiseshell, she had been struck by her similarity to Dipperpaw. But how, and why, would I be dreaming of some dead cat I never met? And then there had been that new dream last night, with the stone and the white tom and all the mint. It had left her uneasy and distracted during her training, resulting in her struggling even more than normal. Gorsestorm had dismissed her early, saying that she was no good with a busy head, and to come back when she could focus. Teaselpaw had shuffled away dejectedly at that, ending up outside the medicine den in the hope it’s peaceful atmosphere would somehow rub off one her.

              “Do you have a case of feather head?” A voice mewed from behind her, making her jump. Kestrelcall emerged from the medicine den, eyes kind as he sat beside her. “I don’t have any herbs for it, but talking usually fixes it right up.” Teaselpaw blinked at him affectionately. The pale orange tom had been a constant source of quiet support since she arrived, always willing to lend an ear or a bit of advice when she needed it.

              “I just… I’ve been having a hard time with training, but I already told you that.” She murmured, looking down at her dirty paws. Her fine, creamy fur seemed to attract dust and dirt, leaving her legs and feet constantly coated, something which bothered her more than she was willing to admit. Kestrelcall nodded but said nothing, watching her expectantly. Teaselpaw sighed, shuffling a bit. “And I’ve been having… strange dreams.” This came out much more hesitant, and Teaselpaw realized she wasn’t prepared to tell the medicine cat she suspected she had been dreaming of his murdered daughter. He had fixed her with a focused gaze at the comment, however, and so she knew she would have to tell him something.

              “What kind of dreams?” He asked, tone light, but she knew he wasn’t going to drop the subject. Teaselpaw cast her gaze about before deciding to tell him of the strangest, and most recent, one.

              “I was in a cavern, with some glowing, crystal… thing. A white tom was there, and he said he needed my help.” Kestrelcall was looking at her very intently now, and he opened his mouth to ask her-

              “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather for a clan meeting!” Teaselpaw whipped her head towards where Shalestar had just emerged from her den, relieved at the interruption. A quick glance at Kestrelcall revealed he was distracted, but she knew their conversation wasn’t over. He nodded over towards the gathering cats, however, and she followed him as he made his way to his customary place at the base of the Rock. Teaselpaw joined Silverpaw and Cinderpaw where they sat at the edge of the crowd, curious as to what was going on.

              Shalestar was sitting atop the Rock in her typical relaxed way, tail hanging off the side and eyes half lidded. They were gleaming with excitement, however, and that got Teaselpaw’s attention enough to perk up a bit. “What’s happening?” she hissed to Cinderpaw, who gave a confused shrug.

              “I don’t know,” he whispered, “but probably something good-” He was cut off by Shalestar, who was ready to begin.

              “We have an important ceremony to perform today- Leafspring has informed me that Dipperpaw has completed his assessments and is ready to become a warrior.” Teaselpaw and the siblings could hardly contain their excitement at that, bouncing to their feet to look for their friend. Teaselpaw craned her head to see where Dipperpaw sat next to his mentor, a brown tabby tom with dark green eyes. Leafspring was beaming, sitting proud next to his apprentice, who looked a mix of elated and nervous.

              “Dipperpaw, come forward.” At his leader’s command, Dipperpaw made his way to the base of the Rock, Kestrelcall gazing at him with a mixture of love, pride, and sadness swirling in his gaze. Shalestar cleared her throat before calling out so all could hear her clearly.

              “Dipperpaw, you have trained hard for the past seven moons to complete your training. Throughout this time, you have continually showed your loyalty, kindness, and perseverance in the face of much adversity.” At this last comment, Teaselpaw saw several cats shuffle their paws or pin their ears back, looking away as if Shalestar had just scolded them. His biggest detractors, then, Teaselpaw thought to herself, shooting them a quick glare. She was happy to see that the rest of the clan looked at least supportive, if not outright excited. Hopefully they all see now that he’s a true Windclanner, just like they are. “You are ready to take on the mantle of warrior.” With this, Shalestar stood, fixing her eyes on the brilliant blue sky.

              “I, Shalestar, leader of Windclan, call upon our glorious ancestors to look down on this apprentice. He has trained hard to learn and honor the ways of your noble code, and I commend him to you as a warrior in his turn. Dipperpaw, do you promise to uphold the Warrior Code, to honor the statutes of Starclan, and to protect your clan, even at the cost of your life?”

              “I do.” His nerves seemingly settled, Dipperpaw’s eyes glowed with determination as he nodded firmly.

              “Then by the powers given to me, I give you your warrior name. Dipperpaw, from this moment on you will be known as Dipperwing. Starclan honors your determination and compassion, and we welcome you as a full warrior of Windclan.”

              Shalestar leapt down before Dipperwing, resting her muzzle on his head, and he gave her shoulder a respectful lick. Silverpaw was the first to call out his new name, leading her clan into cheering for their new warrior. Dipperwing gazed at them all proudly, glowing at seeing his clan truly acknowledge him for the first time. The crowd dispersed quickly, however, leaving Dipperwing with just his father and his mentor. The three apprentices pushed past their other clanmates to run over to the small group, tails lashing happily. Silverpaw, of course, was the first to skid up in front of Dipperwing

              “Congratulations Dipper! How do you feel?” She purred, kneading the ground in front of her in her excitement. Cinderpaw bumped up beside her, not to be outdone.

              “Ma picked a good name for you- it fits you well!” He mewed cheerily. Teaselpaw peeped her own congratulations! before moving to sit down next to Kestrelcall, letting the siblings have a moment with their oldest friend. She glanced at the orange tom next to her, a little concerned at the faraway look in his usually sharp eyes.

              “Did you know this was happening today?” She asked quietly, looking to distract him from his thoughts. Kestrelcall blinked, looking down at her with a small smile.

              “I did,” he meowed, casting a fond glance over at Dipperwing. “Shalestar told me this morning.” Teaselpaw hummed in response, searching for something else to say. She was interrupted by Kestrelcall’s sigh- he looked like he was about to speak when a voice called from across the camp.

              “Owl chick! Come on!” She looked up to see Gorsestorm sitting by the camp entrance, waving his tail impatiently at her. She glanced up at Kestrelcall apologetically.

              “Sorry,” she murmured, “I shouldn’t keep him waiting.” Teaselpaw got up to leave, wincing as she put pressure on her aching paws.

              “Teaselpaw.” She looked back over at Kestrelcall, who looked unusually solemn. “Come see me when you’re done. There’s something I want to talk to you about.” Teaselpaw nodded, trying to quell the uneasy feeling in her stomach. She didn’t know what Kestrelcall would think about her dreams, but he seemed far too interested for it to be anything good. Her life was already busy and stressful- she didn’t want to add another layer to it. Giving her coat a rough shake, she trotted off towards Gorsestorm, dread pooling in her stomach at the thought of more training.

________________________________________________________________

              To her surprise, however, Gorsestorm did not lead her towards the training field. Instead, he took her to a far-off corner of the territory that they hadn’t gone to on her first tour. Hopefully, you won’t have reason to go there for a while, Gorsestorm had mewed bitterly. Something must have changed since then. Her mentor was uncharacteristically silent for the duration of the journey- he was usually overflowing with instructions, or stories, or snarky comments. Now, Gorsestorm prowled forward like the giant cats of legend he had told her about, burning eyes fixed straight ahead. Teaselpaw didn’t press him, merely concentrating on keeping up with his brisk pace. Eventually, they crested a hill and Teaselpaw started, recognizing the place before her from her dreams.

              Dozens and dozens of small stone piles lay before her. The row closest to her seemed to be the newest, as the rocks were not as worn and small as the piles that extended further across the top of the hill. As they drew closer, she even noticed decorations adorning some- feathers, wilting flowers, even animal bones lay before or on the stones. Gorsestorm lead her to the last pile in the foremost row. A striped feather was pinned by the topmost stone, and a small, bushy plant was growing by its base. Mint, like from her dream. It was creeping over to the stone pile next to it, which was decorated with dried poppies. Poppypaw’s grave. And this must be Falconstar’s.

              Gorsestorm sat before Falconstar’s grace with a heavy sigh, and Teaselpaw was surprised to see how… miserable her mentor suddenly looked. Gorsestorm didn’t get sad or upset- irritated, yes, frustrated, definitely, but sad? It was uncomfortable to see. She sat beside him, shuffling her paws, before hesitantly reaching out to touch her paw gently to his.

              “Are you alright?” She asked quietly, and Gorsestorm shot her a surprised glance, looking like he had just remembered she was there. He let out a gusty sigh, looking down at her paw touching his before looking back at the grave before him.

              “Did you know Falconstar was my father?” He asked abruptly. Teaselpaw’s eyes grew wide at the admission- somehow, no one had gotten around to telling her that.

              “No, I didn’t.” She said honestly. “I’m so sorry.” Teaselpaw hadn’t known her father, and to be honest she had barely known her mother, but everything she had learned about Windclan pointed to parents being very close to their children. Gorsestorm hummed in response.

              “He wasn’t just my father. He was my mentor as well- my whole life, he trained me to be the next leader of Windclan. I was supposed to mentor one of Littlestream’s litter, and then I would replace Shalestar as deputy. But then he was murdered.” Gorsestorm spat the last word with such venom that Teaselpaw jumped, unnerved by the wrathful expression on his face. “And I can’t help but wonder.” Teaselpaw hesitated, before mewing a quiet question.

              “Wonder… what?” Gorsestorm paused, looking down at Teaselpaw as if trying to decide something. Evidently coming to a decision, he pinned his apprentice with a deadly serious look.

              “If Shalestar was the one who murdered him.”

________________________________________________________________

              Teaselpaw stumbled back into camp behind Gorsestorm, mind still spinning. Her mentor had outlined his whole terribly suspicious theory. Shalestar, coveting the leadership position, decided to capitalize on the accidental death of the previous deputy and her own lucky appointment. Deciding to act before she was replaced with Gorsestorm, the rightful heir, she got the jump on Falconstar when he was out on his evening walk and murdered him. Poppypaw was an unfortunate witness turned casualty, killed to keep her from telling the rest of the clan what happened. And now Shalestar has secured the leadership position for herself and her brats, unchallenged! he had hissed. Teaselpaw shook her head as if to dislodge the memory, unable to wrap her head around it all. Surely Shalestar would never? She thought desperately. This was the cat who gave her a second chance, a home, who teased and laughed and fought and tirelessly strove to lead her clan well. She had never heard a bad word spoken of her, and Teaselpaw admired the gray molly greatly. But if Gorsestorm was right…

              “Teaselpaw!” She looked up to see Kestrelcall standing a few paces away, gesturing for her to follow him. It took everything she had to not let out a wail of despair. Too much was going on- and just this morning, she had been so morose about training. Teaselpaw reluctantly shuffled over to the medicine cat, following him into the medicine den without a word. Once settled, Kestrelcall cleared his throat.

              “Tell me exactly what happened in your dream.” Teaselpaw did just that, telling him of the whole surreal affair. He nodded along seriously, never interrupting, and she finally concluded with how she was swallowed by mint and awoke in the apprentice den, feeling as if it was still snaking through her fur. Kestrelcall let out a sigh, but there was a glint in his eye that was almost… excited?

              “The place you dreamed of was the Mothermouth, and Moonstone inside it.” And yes, there was definitely an eager undercurrent to his words. “The tom, I believe, was Snowdrift, medicine cat of Thunderclan. I’ve been told he’s received an omen from the ancestors- we have reason to believe that medicine cats are in danger. He was told to find a cat in each Clan to help him. Apparently, you’re one of the cats he was looking for. I encourage you to meet him when he asked you to, and let me know if you need help with anything.” Teaselpaw blinked, dumbfounded.

              “Me?” She let out a strangled squeak, barely able to speak past the incredulity tightening her throat. “Why me? I’m not even a real clan cat.” The last part came out before she could stop it, and she flinched, deflating as she looked down at her paws. Kestrelcall was silent for a moment.

              “You are a real Windclanner, Teaselpaw. Even if you’re having a hard time of it. Tell me, have you had any other dreams, besides this one? Ones that didn’t feel normal?” Teaselpaw hesitated. There were the foggy dreams of course, which had always felt so important but were forgotten so quickly, and those she had been having for moon, even before joining Windclan. And, of course, Poppypaw…

              Teaselpaw hemmed and hawed with indecision, before the fight went out of her and she decided to come clean. What more did she have to lose, at this point? And besides, Kestrelcall always knew what to do. “Before I joined Windclan I was having dreams, but I don’t remember what they were- just that they felt important, like I needed to remember. Those haven’t ever stopped.” She admitted quietly. “And then… right after I joined… I, well, dreamed of the graveyard. There was another molly there, a tortoiseshell, and she kept whispering justice, and…” the next few words caught in her throat, and Teaselpaw dared to look up at Kestrelcall. His eyes were closed as if in pain, but when Teaselpaw stopped he opened them. His yellow eyes were dim with grief, but he seemed more contemplative than upset.

              “Poppypaw,” he murmured, and Teaselpaw flinched at the name.

              “I think so,” she choked out, then, quickly, “but I swear, I didn’t know at first, and then I thought I was crazy-” Kestrelcall flicked his tail to stop her flood of words, but his eyes were once again kind when she met them.

              “I’m not mad or upset, Teasel, you have nothing to apologize for.” The use of just her given name made her blink, as she couldn’t recall anyone calling her just that since she was made an apprentice. It made something tight in her chest ease a bit- she didn’t realize how much she missed just hearing the name her mother gave her. “I want to tell you something, then ask you something, but you don’t have to answer right now, ok?” Teaselpaw nodded mutely, eyes swimming with apprehension.

              “I believe that Starclan chose you long before you came here. It wasn’t mere coincidence that brought you to Windclan, but something much more important. And I don’t just mean whatever is going on with the omen Snowdrift needs your help with, I mean that you are important to Windclan.” Teaselpaw found the words oddly… comforting. That even though she was struggling, and things seemed too much, she had a purpose. If Kestrelcall was right, then what she was feeling wasn’t needless suffering, but rather there was something she was meant to do and it was important. She was important. “And now for my question- Teaselpaw, do you think you’d like to train as a medicine cat instead of a warrior?”

              Teaselpaw was once again, for what felt like the fifth time that day, blindsided.

              “I… can do that?” She asked. Kestrelcall nodded in response. “But… I thought that only clan cats could be medicine cats, and Starclan chose them.”

              “You are a clan cat Teaselpaw.” Kestrelcall corrected gently. “But I understand what you’re trying to say. Any cat can be chosen by Starclan, regardless of heritage- the Shadowclan medicine cat, for example, was a kittypet who received dreams from Starclan when he was just a kitten. He followed the ancestor’s guidance to Shadowclan, and has served them faithfully ever since. It would not be unusual for a similar circumstance to be happening with you. With that being said, however,” he mewed, fixing her with a serious look, “you still have a choice to make. You can train to be a warrior, if that is your wish. It is also not unheard of for Starclan to have connections to warriors as well, just much rarer. And in light of the recent omen, it is dangerous to be a healer now. Or, if you decide, you can train with me.”

              “I… need to think about it.” Teaselpaw was absolutely exhausted. She didn’t think her head could fit anymore. “And I want to talk to Gorsestorm first, too.” The prickly tom had her complete trust, despite his quirks. He was just as supportive, if not more, as the rest of her friends in Windclan. Listen owl chick, Gorsestorm had said quietly, after he had, once again, easily knocked her over in a spar. When I asked Shalestar to let you stay, it’s because I saw something in you. You’ll figure this out. He had then barked at her to get up and stop moping, but she had felt something warm glow in her chest at his words. She didn’t want to abandon him, or make him think she was ungrateful. But, a part of her whispered, this sounds a whole lot better than being a warrior. She tried to picture herself in this den, learning from Kestrelcall. Studying herbs and healing, interpreting dreams, being a shoulder to lean on and a place of comfort for her clan… that sounds pretty nice. Kestrelcall nodded.

              “Of course, don’t wo-”

              “Kestrelcall!”

              Both Teaselpaw and Kestrelcall jumped, surprised by Palesky’s sudden appearance in the den. “Littlestream- the kits are coming! Oh stars.” Palesky sat down heavily, looking blankly at the two cats before him. “The kits are coming.” Teaselpaw slowly looked over at Kestrelcall, who sprung into action. He grabbed at a few bundles of herbs, shoving a few at a startled Palesky. The pale gray tom blinked stupidly before scrambling into action at Kestrelcall’s order.

              “Don’t just sit there, hurry up, take these now! Bring them over to the nursery, I’ll be right behind you!” The pale gray tom nodded shakily before rushing out of the den, herbs clutched firmly in his jaws. Kestrelcall sighed, shaking his head affectionately. He looked back over to Teaselpaw, who was still sitting in the same spot despite the ruckus.

              “Take your time to think about what I said, and do talk to Gorsestorm. We can talk more about meeting Snowdrift tomorrow, if you’d like.” Teaselpaw nodded tiredly, and Kestrelcall gave her a supportive nudge before trotting out of the den. Too tired to even sigh, Teaselpaw slunk out of the den. It was beginning to get dark. Silverpaw was speaking quietly to Dipperwing in the center of the clearing, although he needed to start his vigil soon. Leaving them alone, Teaselpaw slogged over to the apprentice’s den. Cinderpaw was already asleep inside, his soft snores echoing in the emptiness of the den. It felt weird to realize that Dipperwing wouldn’t be sleeping there anymore, but Teaselpaw couldn’t put in the effort to really think about it. Instead, she collapsed on the nest near Cinderpaw, asleep as soon as her head hit the moss.

First / Prev / Next

[jedijourneys]

Akadul’s Journal; Entry Eleven

It has been a long time since I have genuinely dueled with another Jedi. There are the classes, of course, but an actual spar? Truthfully, it has been some time since I’ve trusted myself enough to allow for such things. When Knight Jinora announced that she’d be hosting a combat event, I finally decided that I trusted myself enough to attend. Whether or not that was a mistake is, as of yet, uncertain. But I shouldn’t get ahead of myself.

We were divided into two teams, and smaller teams within those two teams. I, alongside other Jedi, spectated the first duel between Lyceus and several opponents. Despite his skill, numbers could overwhelm even the most competent of warriors. I’ve always done my best to avoid such battles, favoring fights against a single enemy. It is far easier to pick out the weakest target and pick them off from the sidelines than it is to try and tackle an entire group altogether.

So, when it was my turn, along with the rest of my team, I did just that. There was another Pureblood there, Brodran, I believe. He has an interesting story, and he and I have already gotten acquainted once before. I wasn’t expecting him to be able to whack me over the head, though. Luckily for me, it was a mere training blade, so the damage was minimal. A bit of bleeding from a shallow gash and some pain, but nothing too significant.

Obviously, I was embarrassed. I don’t have a clue what had been going through my mind in that moment to distract me from such a bold attack. He quite literally flung himself at me head-on. I suppose I’m only mortal, and thus… just as prone to mistakes as any other. Perhaps I had simply underestimated my fellow Pureblood, and in doing so, had opened myself up to his attack.

Regardless, it ultimately worked in my favor. Brodran very clearly established himself as the strongest opponent on the opposing team, which meant, of course, that I promptly targeted his companion instead. Perhaps it was unsportsmanlike of me to go after someone who likely could hardly defend themselves against what was, essentially, a fully trained Sith (turned Jedi, of course). I did not even know her name. I simply… picked her out as the possible weak link and eliminated her from the battle, as quickly and efficiently as possible.

That was how I had been trained, in the past. Why drag out a fight when you could pick off the easier foes first? Destroy the morale of the strongest who were unable to defend their allies. It sounds quite vicious, doesn’t it? You’d be correct in that assumption. The Sith do not care about who is weak, and who is defenseless, and they were never above cowardly tricks that might win them a battle they’d otherwise lose. I’m not proud of the tactic, but I do understand it’s effectiveness.

The other two young Jedi on my team, an Initiate and a youngling, were able to tag-team Brodran enough to keep his attention while I promptly took care of the Pureblood’s companion. I have learned to be disciplined in my time within the Order, and as such, I am not quite the wild and untamed wildfire that I used to be. I restrained my attacks to insure that my opponent was not badly injured, before pivoting back to face Brodran at last.

To my surprise, my two companions had managed to fight him off. The duel was won. That wasn’t to say that I was too happy about it, though. Not only had I embarrassed myself with Brodran’s quick attack (and my failed defense), but I could have sworn to have sensed a familiar ice washing through my spirit, seeping through skin to slither like a viper within my veins. The Dark Side. Initially, I had feared that it was emanating from me! That I had… lost control and somehow hurt my opponent in the duel.

But no, the source was from another, an inexperienced youngling on my team, one of the two Jedi that had been battling Brodran. The sensation brought up far too many emotions, and memories. That, alongside my aching head, made me quite irritable. I assisted Brodran, who had been temporarily blinded by debris, to Master Tam’a’ryth for some care. He’s a talented fighter, perhaps on the same level as myself. I can’t quite be sure from a single duel, but I could tell that he knew well enough what he was doing in that fight. Had that been a real battle, Brodran would have struck a fatal blow against me.

I made my way to Adept Kera for some healing in regards to my head, and that was when that youngling, the one who had lost control in the spar, decided to make some snide comment about my face eating training blades. She was probably just teasing, I don’t know… but I was irritated, embarrassed, and in pain. I glared at her, nearly snapped at her, but a few deep breaths got me through the next few minutes it took for Kera to patch up my head, and then I promptly scrambled away.

I did my best to meditate afterward, in the quiet solitude of my room. It took hours to achieve any sort of peace, far longer than it probably takes for any other Jedi. I shall continue to try not to harbor too much negative emotion, for I know such feelings to be poisonous. Perhaps in a few more days, the soreness will fade, alongside my embarrassment. I might try to avoid that youngling, though. The last thing I need is exposure to past sensations. I don’t think I’m ready for that yet.

[spacedykez]

Prompt: King

"Oh wise and mighty King Owen," Katy began, dropping to one knee dramatically, "If thou shall choose me to be your knight, then I will be the finest warrior this kingdom has ever seen!"

Owen giggled and kicked his feet at Katy's performance from the armchair where he sat. He slowly stood up from his chair and raised his cardboard sword.

"Servant Katy, you have served me well," he put on the most serious voice an 8 year old can manage as he spoke, "I have decided that thou shall be my knight!"

Katy held her kneeling stance, head hung. She felt a sudden slap on her shoulders from the cardboard sword and yelped.

"Hey!" she giggled out, raising her head and shaking her little brother by the shoulders slightly, "You aren't supposed to hurt your employees!"

Owen giggled in return before tapping Katy on both shoulders with his sword, far more gentle than the last attempt.

Katy returned to her previous position.

"I shall serve you well, my King!"

A loud bang came from the door, and the handle begun to shake violently. The pair gasped and whirled around to see who was trying to get in.

The handle turned and the door shot open.

"Raaah!"

Carter burst through the door, wearing a homemade dragon mask and claws made if green construction paper. The other two shouted and jumped to their feet.

"Get to safety, King Owen! I shall slay this beast!" Katy smiled uncontrollably through her words.

Owen scampered behind the armchair decorated to be his thrown as Katy drew her sword.

"Thou shall not harm this kingdom, beast!"

"I don't think you're using old english terms correctly!" Carter countered, muffled slightly by the mask. His smile was audible through it still.

Katy yelled and raised her sword to attack, whacking Carter on the shoulder as he dodged.

A cycle begun; Katy swinging at Carter, Carter dodging and trying to attack Katy, Katy dodging. The two giggled the whole way through it, throwing threats of bloody victory and other taunts in each others faces.

Eventually, Carter tackled Katy to the ground.

Katy yelled dramatically, "King Owen, I am sorry! For I have been bested! Run, run to safety!"

As Carter let out his best evil laugh and drew his arm back to slay Katy with his mighty paper claws, Owen stood.

He ran from behind the armchair and let out a battle cry as he whacked Carter on the head with his sword as hard as he could.

Carter let out a croaking noise and fell onto his side.

"Oh, I have been slain! All my gold is yours, mighty King Owen."

Owen shook his head, "I don't want gold! I want my knight to be okay!"

He turned to Katy, offering a hand.

"I cannot, my King. For I have failed you."

"We all fail sometimes," Owen said confidently, "and the dragon is dead! So technically, we didn't fail!"

Katy sniffled and took Owen's hand; still standing up on her own as he was too small to pull her up.

Wrapping a hand around Owen's wrist, Katy brought it far above his head and said:

"Let's hear it for King Owen, the mightiest of them all!"

Katy made fake crowd cheering sounds as Carter giggled a little from where he still lay on the floor.

"I think you guys have been using medieval terminology wrong this whole time," came a muffled voice, "I'll have to check after."

Katy dropped her plastic knight helmet onto her older brother, earning an "Ow!" in response.

Owen pointed at the man on the floor and laughed at him. Carter, in response, lifted his helmet to stick his tongue out.

Home had never felt better.

(Something that didn't change over my break: My lack of proof reading! Another thing that didn't change is me apologizing for it, so sorry for that as usual! Hope you enjoy!)

oh my gosh!!!! your characters have such clear voices it's amazing!! i love them ough <3

[attllhak]

Warriors Swan Lake AU: Soldiers - Twilight

@tortilla-of-courage

And here we’re at the second half of this fic, featuring Twilight and his backstory. Also featuring a more reliable narrator when it comes to Warriors’ characterization for this AU. So here’s a look at how Twilight ended up as a captain in the royal guard.

-------------------------------------

Twilight was probably the only person to ever have a royal relative and refuse to accept any sort of noble title.

His Aunt Malon had married the king a few years before Twilight was born. He grew up in the tiny village he was born in, but his aunt and uncle visited often. 

They never wore their crowns or finery when they visited, and Twilight had even been the one to direct his uncle on how to do the farm work properly on more than one occasion. He had no idea it was the king he was bossing around every other summer until he was already almost an adult.

He’d wanted to see more of the world before settling down, and headed to the capitol to start off, hoping maybe he could spend a few nights with his aunt and uncle to help him plan out what to do and where to go first.

He’d been a bit confused when people reacted with disbelief when he gave his relatives names, and had been a bit put out when doors slammed in his face because they thought he was lying. He didn’t understand why that might have been until he ended up arrested because someone called for the guard.

That had pissed him off, and he fought for a bit but didn’t manage to make much headway, and he ended up in a cell in the castle dungeons.

Part of him was now wondering just what kind of reputation his aunt and uncle had in Castle Town that it landed him in jail just for being related to them.

Well, up until his cousin showed up.

Warriors was a few months older than Twilight, and he’d come with his parents whenever they visited. Twilight mostly remembered him being a scraggly sort of kid, who spent a lot of his early years complaining and whining about not being treated ‘special’, at which point Twilight would proceed to try and tackle him into the nearest body of water or mud. Warriors of course grew out of this phase, and soon he was tackling Twilight back. Or, he was until Twilight hit a growth spurt and put on muscle by taking on more chores. He was a lot harder to tackle then, not that Warriors ever stopped trying.

When Twilight thought of his cousin, mostly he imagined him in basic, simple clothes and covered in mud, smile wide while they shoved more dirt on each other’s faces, hair a mess. Warriors always left the ranch with more bruises than he arrived with, and they spent a notable amount of time wrestling and pushing each other into water or mud.

All of Twilight’s memories had Warriors in the same spot as anyone else from his tiny village. So he was unprepared when his cousin showed up to visit him.

Fine, expensive clothing with elaborate embroidery (though he’d learn later it was actually on the simple side for royalty), a long royal blue scarf that flared and billowed like a cape when he moved, several pieces of expensive jewelry which included but wasn’t limited to several earrings he wore at once. And a crown.

Warriors was wearing a literal crown.

“Wow, when they said someone claiming to be related to us had been arrested, I didn’t expect the person in question to be telling the truth,” Warriors quipped, smirking.

“Warriors?!” Twilight blanched, climbing to his feet and moving up to press against the bars, as though that would help him process what he was seeing. “What are you wearing?!”

Warriors laughed, loud and sudden, and a guard stepped up.

“Your Majesty, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Warriors waved, now doubled over and trying to catch his breath desperately.

“YOUR MAJESTY?!” Twilight echoed, his shock clear on his face.

The guard whispered something to Warriors, who waved him off again.

“Yeah, but he’s always bothering me, so it’s fine. You can let him out and return his things to him, he’s telling the truth,” Warriors said, gasping a bit while he still caught his breath from laughing.

“Warriors, what is going on?” Twilight asked once his cousin assured the guard Twilight wasn’t lying and sent him to get the keys and all the things Twilight had brought with him.

“Do you seriously not know?” Warriors asked back, seeming genuinely confused.

“All I know is that I showed up here thinking I could stay a day or two with your family while I planned out a trip to see more of the country and ended up arrested trying to find you, and now here you are,” he reached through the bars to wave at his cousin. “You’re probably wearing things that cost more than my house, and the soldiers are calling you ‘Your Majesty’, and you have a crown,” he pointed quite firmly at the accessory in question. “What is going on?”

Warriors blinked at him, like he couldn’t understand how Twilight was so stupid he hadn’t figured out what was going on.

“Twilight,” he said slowly, like Twilight was being particularly dumb. “Do you not know who my parents are?”

Twilight frowned. “Is that important?”

Warriors covered his mouth and nose with his hands, taking in a deep breath, looking equal parts stressed and amused, probably fighting back laughter.

“Twi,” Warriors wheezed out, expression mostly hidden. “My dad is the King,”

Twilight took a moment to let that sink in.

“WHAT!?”

Twilight’s uncle thought it was hilarious when Warriors swept into the throne room with his arm through Twilight’s, explaining what was going on to his parents without care that they were dealing with some minister of something.

It must have been quite a sight, the crown prince sweeping into the room arm-in-arm with a peasant who clearly hadn’t had a bath or decent rest in a few days while loudly announcing his cousin had arrived.

Twilight felt very out of place.

Time, who was dressed almost but not quite as finely as his son, had burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter immediately once it sank in, doubled over in his throne. He was wearing blue, faint hints of embroidery across the pale vest over his tunic. He had a long royal blue coat lined with silver, though it was cut short enough he could ride a horse unencumbered. He had riding boots, more practical than the fancy boots Warriors had, but still obviously expensive. And he had a crown. Beyond the finery though, he still looked like Uncle Time, the man Twilight bossed around in the summers. He still had the long scar over his right eye, and the blue and red markings from the Old Magic he used when he was young.

Somehow Twilight had a hard time picturing his uncle as the king, despite seeing him in court attire.

And then his aunt reached over to smack at her husband and tell him to get himself together, and Twilight felt his entire brain shut down for a moment.

Aunt Malon was his mother’s sister, and he knew her even better than he knew her husband, since she would visit even when her husband couldn’t. He was used to seeing her in work clothes, practical wear for living on a ranch.

Her boots were the same, but that was about it.

She was dressed more simply than her husband or son, but even she was dressed like royalty. Her skirts were a bit longer than they usually were, though only by an inch, and a royal blue colour, a darker shade of blue embroidered a commoners pattern across it. She still had a tan shirt, but it seemed like more of a blouse now, slightly fancier, and a bit of brown leather around her waist, not unlike a sash, to hold the very embroidered bit of fabric with the crest of the kingdom that hung down the front of her skirts. A fancy pink-purple sash or shawl or whatever was wrapped around her arms, in the same shade as the skirts she wore at home. A very simple circlet sat on her brow.

When Twilight finally managed to comprehend his aunt and uncle sitting on thrones in royal finery, his uncle had mostly collected himself and Warriors was snickering into the back of his hand. The rest of the room was silent, and everyone was staring at him.

“So,” he said slowly into the silence. “When was I going to find out you two are literally the king and queen? Were you planning on ever telling me?”

Time snorted again, desperately trying his best to swallow more laughter. Malon glared at him gently. Warriors turned his face away while he puffed out his cheeks to keep his own laughter in check.

“Also, are you telling me that I spent almost every summer tackling the crown prince into mud puddles?” Twilight went on when no one else seemed to. “I found out I’ve technically been assaulting the crown prince when he showed up in the dungeons because I got arrested for claiming to be related to you because I didn’t know you were the king and queen. Seriously, I got ARRESTED over this! And him! I’ve been leaving bruises on the prince my whole life and no one bothered to tell me? How many of the things we did during the summers you visited home technically count as treason because you guys are royalty? Why didn’t you tell me you were royalty?! It could’ve saved a lot of headaches!”

“Yes, because that would’ve prevented you from assaulting the crown prince,” Warriors joked, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, you shut up,” Twilight scoffed, elbowing him. “You left just as many bruises on me!”

That cracked Time’s resolve again, and he burst into a new round of laughter.

Malon sighed heavily. “I had thought you’d figured it out on your own already. Most of the village has,”

“Clearly not,” Twilight scoffed, sounding a bit more offended than he felt.

“Clearly not,” Malon sighed. “I do apologize for the issues this has caused. You weren’t sitting in a cell long, I hope,”

“Only because he came to get me,” Twilight tossed his head at Warriors.

“A few members of my guard are horrible gossips,” Warriors admitted. “I overheard they’d picked him up and got curious,”

Time gathered himself and sat back, one hand on his face as he gasped for air.

“This is the best thing that’s happened all week,” he wheezed.

Malon reached over and whacked him.

Twilight did eventually get the full story, and the reason no one told him that the royal family was the one that visited every summer was because they were worried that he’d treat his cousin differently if he knew that was the prince, and everyone was hoping that giving Warriors a place to just be like every other kid would help keep him from getting spoiled and entitled. It worked, since despite his decadence Warriors was a pretty grounded person. He didn’t have a good grasp on what is and isn’t expensive, but he was respectful at least.

Twilight proved them all wrong by taking the first opportunity to tackle his cousin into the fountain in the courtyard, royal finery be damned.

He nearly got arrested again for that before Warriors retaliated and the guards decided to find it funny instead of worrying.

He was offered a title a few times to apologize for the misunderstanding and his brief prison stint, but he always turned it down. He didn’t want a title, he just wanted full clearance to be allowed to assault his cousin without being charged with treason.

He spent longer in the castle than he expected to, and then he learned he could see the kingdom a lot easier by just tagging along on some of the outings the royal family made to check on the people. But he still didn’t want a title.

Which is how Twilight marched up to his uncle and informed him he wanted to join the army for the express purpose of being part of the royal guard.

Time seemed amused by this, and Twilight was quickly fast tracked up the ranks to get a placement in the royal guard. Which he also quickly rose up the ranks of.

Only part of it was nepotism. Most of it was that he actually had a lot of skill with a sword, more than a lot of the other soldiers, and he took his job seriously. He ended up with the title of captain after only a few short years, and most of the people he interacted with had no idea he was related to the queen. This worked just fine for Twilight.

It did mean he didn’t get to tackle his cousin into water features and mud puddles as often, but that was something he could live with.

He ended up the head of Warriors’ guard specifically, which Warriors found immensely amusing for reasons Twilight didn’t fully understand.

Which was why he was there when their travelling group was attacked.

Warriors could hold his own wrestling with Twilight and the others in Ordon, but he was no fighter. He couldn’t protect himself in a real fight. That was what his guard was for.

A guard that had all fled the second they realized they were facing a sorceress. Which left only him.

Twilight stood firmly in front of his cousin, sword in hand, blinking water out of his eyes. No one was going to hurt his cousin, not if he had anything to say about it. The only person who should be responsible for Warriors being soaked and covered in mud was him.

The sorceress took a step closer and Twilight shifted, grip tightening on his sword, face twisting into a snarl, teeth bared.

The sorceress paused.

Twilight nearly startled at the appearance of someone at his side, spotting the blonde hair and a blue hat, a sword and shield drawn. Legend, one of the newer members of the prince’s guard.

Well, at least he wasn’t the only soldier brave enough to stay and protect the prince.

He was making a very angry report about all of them when they got back to the castle.

[heart-cream]

𝘼 𝘾𝙐𝙍𝙎𝙀!

Fishl!reader angst with obey me!and yes you will infact have your real name as mc but your fake name will be f/n!

Btw f!reader,sfw

Warnings: bullying,dying and just the brothers being mean:( also I dont reccomend reading if you dont play genshin since its lowkey confusing.

As usual you were walking around with oz rambling about something. When you passed out. Your vision stabbing your back when you awoke.

"Welcome to the devildom mc!" A man with red haired yelled.

"HOW DARE YOU ADRESS THE PRINZESSIN LIKE THIS?PLUS MY NAMES f/n!" You yelled while putting your hand behind your back to see your vision still there 'oh thank barbatos..'

"𝙊𝙕 𝙍𝙀𝙑𝙀𝘼𝙇 𝙏𝙃𝙔𝙎𝙀𝙇𝙁!"

Suddenly a purple bird appeared and started throwing electro balls everywhere while mc-I mean f/n was putting electro in her bow and shooting it.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

"Hehe what a normie introduction!" A man with purple said.

"What type of clothes is that? Should I copy it?"said a man with salmon pink hair said.

"How pointless of us being here is" said a blonde man

Why didnt I leave right then and there?

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Why? Did I stay? The tsl incident,almost dying from Lucifer,getting threatend into a pact.

Now I'm being choked here.....

*Recap*

"Why don't you give me a hug?"said the 7th brother.

"Haha prinzessin's dont hug people!" F/n exclaimed.

Right before belphegor tackled them.

"Hehahhahaaa humans were always soooooo~ weak and fragile." He sang

F/n crawled away before standing up with limp.

"WINGS OF DARKNESS!"

F/n disappeared before showing up as a bird while oz tried his best to attack belphegor it wasn't enough. It ended up with him watching his mein fraulein die. In front of him. Her strongest warrior...... has failed her.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡aftermath!"♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

"Mc I do think it's time for you to grow up and stop pretending your f/n from that stupid fairytale." Lucifer said with annoyance

"Mein fraulein is no fake she is f/n stop it"oz tried to defend you.

IT HAPPEND SO DAMN OFTEN!

Everytime..

"Ugh stop being so childish and grow up! You have the beauty so why waste!?" Asmo yelled.

"Will you just shut up!? I'm trying to sleep here!" Belphie yelled

"Ugh mc stop that stupid act!" Satan yelled

"Normie I'm gaming go away!" Leviathen said to you.

Right now the same thing is happening. But something's different.

"Mc please focus and stop talking about your made up kingdom" lucifer said to you at the student council meeting.

"Mein fraulein-" oz got cut off by you.

"No Its fine oz i knew one day i would have to finally grow up. You can just call me mc now....." you said while taking off your eyepatch. While oz simply stares at you for the first time you didnt call yourself the prinzessin der Verurteilung. You said mc.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡later on♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

"Yo f/n!wanna go to the theatres?" Mammon asked. You turned to him while staring at your vision in your hand.

"No....my names mc not f/n." You said while holding back tears still in your prinzessin outfit. The last time you would be seen wearing that.

"Ehhhhh?????w'dya mean human?" Mammon said shocked.

"Exactly what I meant mammon." You said making mammon even more shocked you didnt say 'devoted follower of the prinzessin' you actually used his name?....

Mammon walked backwards of your room and shut the door.

You stared at the vision. The vision that granted you elemental powers,the vision that gave you oz and the vision that was slowly killing you.....

After that day everything changed....

You didnt call yourself the prinzessin der Verurteilung anymore no...you said mc! You started wearing more neutral colors and stopped wearing your bat boots along with making your vision look like a necklace.

You weren't so lively anymore you didnt ramble on your life but kept to yourself Quietly.

But days and days pass and you've fallen sick.

"Oz?" "Yes mein fraulein?" "Am I dying?" "...." "I'll take that as a yes. I knew that the vision would be my downfall." You said while tears fell from your face. You never grew up. You stayed your age forever. The body of an adult the mind of a child.

Days pass...

"Hey do you guys wanna hang out?" You said to them

"Sorry mc I'm busy."

"Ugh stop being so clingy normie!"

"Please be quiet"

"Another day."

You finally gave up and went to the human world with oz. To hang out with friends but this time with your prinzessin outfit on. You enjoyed being able to act normally

"Hehe be careful on your trips f/n!" Said one of the adventures from the guild.

"Haha...the prinz..eshin....will .neverrr....fail.." you said before passing out.

You were announced dead at the hospital along with oz passing with you and with your vison.

☆☆☆☆☆☆IN THE DEVILDOM☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

"Have any of you guys seen mc?" One brother asked another "nope" every one said. You've been missing for the past month same with oz.

Ring!

Ring!

Ring!

It was your number? "Hello this is lucifer speaking?" "Ah hello your in one of f/ns emergency contacts. I've called to inform you that f/n has passed away the guild has barley figured out her password and found you in the contacts. Oz had passed along with her. If you wish to know her vision was slowly killing her." One of the guilf members said on the phone.

Dead silence...

.

.

.

"Alright thank you for calling me to inform me have a good day." Lucifer said before ending the call.

Some brothers were in shock while some started to cry into their hand..

The hand you once held.

"𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙫𝙞𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙒𝘼𝙎 𝘼 𝘾𝙐𝙍𝙎𝙀!!"

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Hey yall thoughts? First time writing for obey me😭✌ anyways yes idk what to write here