#blue string of destiny for enemies?

[maxemilianverstappen]

Hey I am a new f1 fan and i have to say Lestappen is the reason I actually got into f1 recently and I jus realised that Lestappen is the most followed ship tag on f1 tumblr. Why do you think ppl seem to navigate towards Lestappen even though as a ship, we hardly get content as opposed to some other ships, say, Maxiel piarles carlando etc.

Like the amount of fics for Lestappen or their dynamic in general seem to attract more fans than the usual f1 ships. I wonder why. Is it cuz of the enemies to lovers trope or cuz both of them are cuties who have a seemingly intriguing vibe between them or ?

Hello new fan 👋

I can't speak for everyone, but I can talk about why I came to like them:

Purely from an aesthetic perspective, they look absolutely irresistible together. They are both very handsome/pretty guys. They really have this beautiful and vibrant energy around them as individuals, and when they are together, they look like someone's fever dream. So, it is very understandable for people to look at them and think: "Wow, these two would look so fucking hot doing nasty/bad/good/horrible/lovely things to each other, let's write them down so everyone can agree with me."

But it is never just this simple.

Lestappen's true allure lies in the way that their destiny seems to be literally intertivined from day one.

Their past before their F1 careers is filled with so much lore as I am sure you're having fun reading about. They have literally been racing against each other since they were toddlers. Everyone who knows them both says that they are of equal talent in different flavors. That they are generational talents and if they're given the machinery and team atmosphere that they deserve, we'll be in a delicious few years of them fighting for championships against each other (i am looking at you, ferrari). So, the childhood rivals narrative is already grand. At this point, I need to say that I liken them to a reverse Brocedes (brocedes were childhood best friends who broke apart as adults due to their championship rivalry. Lestappen is childhood enemies who as adults became closer and I hope if they get to fight for a WDC, they'll get even more closer like Launt and Makkinen.)

They fit all the popular media tropes both as a couple and as individuals:

They are the Sun and the Moon, the Red Oni&Blue Oni, the Fire and Ice/Water. All the best dichotomies you can think of... Dichotomies are attractive for people and in narration because they generally deal with people sewn from the same cloth who have turned out different due to their circumstances, meanwhile being fundamentally the same. Like both sides of a coin...

They also both fit into these contrasting roles and subvert the trope, too. (I am on the 'subvert the fanpopular assigned roles' team because people cannot be fit into simple stereotypes.)

More than the Enemies to Lovers trope (which i always approach varily because most people write Max like a brute and Charles as a helpless damsel), I think the Fated/Starcrossed Lovers, the Mirror of One's Self/One's Better Half/Soulmates tropes are much more explorable and lend themselves to character study better. Because, their situation looks both simple and yet very complicated.

Of course, I am speculating here as a fanfiction author who works on what I can see/read about these men, but apart from the "differents attract" and the "twink/hunk" flavoured fics going around, what pulls people in is how they seem to have been literally created for each other, this connected by the red string of fate thing they have going on. Their whole worlds seem to be revolving around each other:

They just can't help themselves about showing their fascination with each other (one more so openly and loudly, the other is a bit reserved about it, but slowly slipping and it is delicious to watch).

They are each other's both destinied and chosen rivals (God, the intimacy of this shit right here... leaves no room for anyone else to even be an "afterthought" as long as they have each other in their sights as their target).

The single minded attention they have for anything the other does even if they pretend to not pay attention (they do).

The tension between them. (Sometimes spicy with adrenaline and the need to best the other and sometimes tasting like soft, years long unnamed yearning).

Unnamed, unlabeled... as if the moment they put a name on it, call it friendship, joke about it as a bromance, it will turn into something especially Charles doesn't seem that ready to embrace. Yeah, this is them... They have certainly been something for each other for years, since they were kids... That something grew with them, evolved, sometimes had very sharp edges, sometimes soft and fluffy... the way it never died off, never tapered off even when you think Max has become everything Charles has ever wanted to be, gained everything he has ever wished for meanwhile Charles can only watch and possibly blamed himself for falling short and feeling admiration warring with jealousy in his heart whenever Max looks back at him with an expectant smile as if wanting to share his happiness with him. Possibly hoping that one day, when Charles achieves his dream, he will also look at him with a soft smile and be happy with him, too.

God, it must have twisted Charles' heart so badly when he realized that Max genuinely wants to share his joy with him instead of how he expected him to rub it in his face like many others have done to each other and many people believed Max would have done to him. The way Max is so soft and sunny and kind and thoughtful when Charles must have been expecting a merciless killing machine ready to tear him apart both with his words and his on track moves. But the reverse happened and it is so compelling, like, how the hell Max can be so soft for this guy who repeatedly said he hated him in the past as if he wanted to keep the distance as stable as possible. Lol, it is like we are watching an ice castle named Charles crumble irl, and I bet it is a spectacle for the people of the fandom.

And also, the way Charles can be written as someone who thinks he has more to lose if he falls for/accepts his love for Max, because he might feel he is always going to lose to him and never win against him in a meaningful way... (Here, I must say I don't like the fics where they write Max willingly losing to Charles after they become an item. Charles wants a fight and wants it especially from Max, because in his eyes only Max's kind of fight is both "just" and on par with the way he believes what racing is actually about. This is what made him fall in love with the sports and also with Max.) This right here is soooo juicy to pass for the lovers of angst. You can write Max as his mirror that he both wants to smash and also adore like narcissus did, the way you can write them as soulmates in which Charles feels trapped by his fate, the way you can write them as My Better Half whom I hate....

They elicit a huge emotional response in the fans/consumers of fanworks. So, it is only understandable for people to seek out those strong emotions again and again. They induce heart palpitations and it is an addicitive rush of serotonin and dopamine, so who are we to deny ourselves the pleasure of enjoying them?

[justjams2003]

The Desire to be Loved

Okay so... I watched the new Dead Boy Detectives and I loved it. But it made me kind of sad cuz we didn't get to see Dream. So then I rewatched The Sandman. So please enjoy my ramblings of what could be a new story maybe?

Pairing: Dream of the Endless x OFC Love/Cupid/Venus (you know how these beings have millions of names) (Also technically it could be an x reader because love is sort of anthropomorphic but in this story a she)

Warnings: Manipulation, threats, gay lovers (but it's the Sandman so that should be a given) crying, cliffhanger, unedited, kind of like enemies to lovers, tell me if I miss any

Word count: 1,6k+

Dividers by: @hyelita

When the first woman stepped foot on the earth, Lust was quick to follow after in their creation. Desire thrived late with his twin Despair after the birth of Destruction once Lillith set on her own path. And once the second woman set foot on earth, Desire created his first creation: Love. Love set her very first arrow into the heart of Adam and Eve.  

And as Dream had his second in command, Lucien, Desire had their favourite pet, creation, Love. And while Dream cares for his dreamlings, Love was nothing but a pet to use for Desire. One to follow orders and never throw tantrums. He did make her as sickly sweet as love can be, but with the same swing as desire has.  

And for thousands of years, she did as she was told. When Destiny told Desire that true soulmates were about to meet, he’d send love with her red heart arrows. And when it was the beginings of love, he’d sent her with her pink arrows. And finally, when the love was no longer meant to be, he’d send Love, to rip those pink arrows from the lovers. Tearing their hearts apart, leaving it to throb in pain.  

After all, it’s not safe for the Endless to roam the human world. Not long enough or often enough, at least, to fulfil the task that Love is sent to do. That was solidified in Desire’s mind when his least favourite brother got captured by the humans.  

She sits on the roof of a house she hasn’t visited before. That seems impossible, she’s been to almost every corner of the earth. But this house...she can feel the aura seems entirely loveless. A black cloud that leaves a bad taste in her mouth, and she doesn’t even eat. At least now something has finally started to bloom.  

She places the arrow on the hilt of the bow. A cute pink heart at the tip. She pulls the string back, controls her breathing like she’s done a million times. But something stops her when she hears what they’re talking about. “The maids say the guards are late.” The boy who just sat down asks.  

The other boy’s black brows furrow. “Really?” He goes to get up, Shoot! She’s going to miss her opportunity. Rushed, she’ll admit, she releases the arrow and it lands right in the two of them. A smile grows on the both of them. She can see the pink aura form around them and makes her feel all warm and fuzzy inside.  

“I’d better get going. I don’t want my father’s demon to escape.” He chuckles to himself, struggling to let go of his newly appointed lover. ‘father’s demon’? What on earth is that supposed to mean? Curiosity plays in her mind as to what it could mean. Especially with this dark cloud surrounding this supernatural feeling house.  

Carefully, her cupid-wings carry her down to the floor. She follows behind the boy, knowing no one but the supernatural can see her. Her white heels (after all, none of Desire’s creature’s could ever be unfashionable) hit the floor with a click-clack. Down the stairs and past the gates. But she stops right in her tracks with an audible gasp when she sees the Burgess’ demon.  

Alex watches with furrowed brows when the pale being his father had captured stands up. His piercing blue eyes looking over Alex’s shoulder, staring right at Cupid. Her eyes are as big as saucers and her plump pink lips hang open in shock. Dream’s hand rests against the glass, words are at the tip of his tongue, but just as quickly they fall dead.  

Gone. His one hope of escape took one large step back into the realm of Desire. Her mind, although submissive and quiet in nature, knew immediately who it is that is captured in Rodrick Burgess’ house. Who is this being that could’ve saved him and all his dreamers? Why couldn’t Alex see her? Why hasn’t Morpheus seen her before, in the waking or the dreaming?  

Why? Well, because it’s Desire’s number one rule. Her white go-go boots stop in front of his throne. “Your Highness?” She asks, her innocent eyes glued to the floor like a child ready for a scolding. “Yes, dear pet?” Desire says with a slinking smirk and the lick of his lips. He knows this stance of her all too well.  

“I’ve done bad.” She says, her shoe digging into the floor, her hands wringing behind her back. “Do tell.” They beg for the minor being. “Well, I was on the mission you sent me. With Alex Burgess and his new lover. And well, they were talking about something the Alex boy called ‘father’s demon’ and I-” Desire holds out his hand. She rambles often, he’s used to it.  

Cupid plucks a piece of skin from her lip with her teeth, such a nervous girl. “I saw Dream.” She blurts out, knowing better than to continue blabbering. Desire stands from his seat. A huge smirk forms on his face. He’s practically dancing around now, joy coursing through him. Or rather, mischief. “Oh really?”  

“I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t know he’d be there. If I knew I wouldn’t have gone. And-” The rambling starts again. But the anger that she expected isn’t there. “No, no, don’t worry my dear pet. You did good, so good.” They muse, now circling her like a shark with it’s prey. “I did?” She ask, her eyebrows lifting in the middle as she fights off the tears she’d been ready to let go of.  

Desire hums, his finger curling under her chin. “Verrryyy good.” He draws out the words like a cat would that could speak. Love’s long lashes flutter as the tears try up, now turned to confusion. “My brother, dear Morpheus, has been missing for the last 10 years and you, dear pet, have accidently just found him.” 

“I did?” He nods again, driving the point home. “Are we going to save him then? He looked so terribly miserable in the glass cage they put him. When he looked at me with those beautiful blue eyes that he has-” she’s cut off by a sharp nail under her chin, ready to unmake her. “Why would we ever save him? No, no, no! Have I not taught you better? He has not called for our help and for that we’ll let him rot.”  

The tears rise in the emotional girls eyes once more. “That seems so cruel.” She mumbles, a knot in her throat. “Cruel? Are you not the same Cupid who rips the love right from people’s hearts? Who lets them suffer for years before letting them love again? Is that not more cruel than letting a man, an Endless, be as he wishes to be?”  

Venus gasps when the tear rolls down her cheek, “Yes, but-” she wants to say so much. It is not she who gets to chose. It’s him! They make her break the humans and she cries each time she has too. She just preforms her given task dutifully. It pains her when the humans pray to her, because she has no choice in the matter.  

But she doesn’t say anything. She can’t, Desire would unmake her for disobedience. Instead, she just accepts their badgering. “No, pet, we take advantage of this. While he does not have a say in the matter, you and I will execute as many plans as possible for his demise and when he escapes from his capture, we’ll see the Dreaming fall and crumble at our feet.”  

This...this does not sit well with Cupid. Not one bit. “My master, are you sure this is a good idea?” Her voice is barely above a whisper for she fears Desire’s vengeful side. Desire’s head snaps to her. “Don’t you want your master to be more powerful? To rule over so much more than people’s fleeting wants?”  

“I-” she stumbles over her words but can see when those golden eyes warn her what the true answer is. “I do.” Cupid swallows her tongue and this does please Desire. She’s always been the perfect pet. Capable of nothing more than what is told to her.  

But all she can really think of is the desperation in his eyes. One of the Endless, stripped and vulnerable. And he was pleading. Pleading to her. Just another lonely creature made to serve and one of the Endless were pleading to her to free him. But what could she do? She cannot touch the humans, she cannot even speak to them. The universe and it’s creators know she exists, but those they serve struggle to believe.  

One thing that Desire of the Endless did not take into account is that Love isn’t just desire in another form. It isn’t just a want for the pleasure that a human body gives. It’s also the dreams of the humans that give her any form of power. A dream of what more there could be past the fleeting moments of lust. Past the want for sex and through the to the soul.  

A dream that all humans have. To be loved. By their parents, by their siblings, by their friends, by their lovers. Love is something all humans dream of, late at night when they enter the sleeping world. And while yes, they do wish to be lusted over and want over others, what Love gives is much, much more.  

A cross between Desire and Dream. And if the humans cannot Dream of love, can they even love? If there is no Dream, can there still be Love?  

Idk if this is going to be a full story yet but if you think it should be and want to be in the taglist if it becomes one, just ask!

[mc-lukanette]

As a seer of fate, Luka's job wasn't always easy. Some had worse fates than others, meaning some also had more difficult strings to deal with. He considered it his job to figure them out and explain to them what destiny had set out for them, as well as how to work with what they were dealt.

Being a Couffaine, he couldn't relate to them. His family was a long line of "fate breakers" (as his mother had so eloquently put it), meaning they were born without destiny even touching them. He suspected it had something to do with how they were able to see it: there was perhaps something too haunting about knowing one's fate - in some cases, their curse - for all to go well. That was why he strived to tell people what he saw only if they asked.

He'd never wanted to help someone so badly before her.

——-

It was a day like any other. Luka was sitting in the corner of the park, his signature guitar marked with the symbol of fate seers in his lap, when he heard footsteps approaching. He looked up, blue eyes meeting blue as he was greeted with a shy smile. The girl had black hair and delicate pink lips, and he could tell by the way she moved to the ambiance of the world that she was exactly his type. He felt incredibly lucky today despite knowing that good and bad luck weren't something fate seers experienced; only by coincidence.

"Hi," she greeted, hands behind her back as she swayed from side to side.

"Hey," he greeted back.

"Um, you're Luka, right?" She scratched her cheek. "I'm Marinette. Juleka - my friend, your sister? Or, no, I mean, your sister, my friend is the better order - sent me here to see you."

Ah. Now it made sense. It also explained Juleka's cheery yet strangely ominous text he'd gotten an hour or so ago that was nothing but a wink. They appreciated similar types of girls, so it checked out that she'd send her his way.

Still, he doubted she would send her to him for no other reason than for either bragging rights or for him to simply behold her himself, so he responded accordingly, "Yeah, I'm Luka. How can I help?"

She hummed, clasping her hand together in front of her waist. "Ah, sorry, I've never done this before, but... she said that you could read fates?"

He nodded. His sister never had any interest in honing her abilities, but she'd likely sensed that something was off if she'd sent her. "Has something been happening to you?"

"Yeah--er, I guess always? I've been clumsy and unlucky ever since I was little. There's also this boy..." She made a dismissive hand gesture, not wanting to talk about it yet. "A-anyway, I thought it was just me and so did everyone else, but then Juleka told me that I should meet with you."

That confirmed his suspicions at least. "Alright. Can you come a little closer?"

She stepped forward as requested, hands clasped at her waist politely. He tried not to squint, mentally activating his senses to see what he was working with.

He saw a flash of red across an invisible string, similar to a light shining off of glass, but he was puzzled by how much he was seeing. He wondered if perhaps the string had tangled itself around her, or maybe if there was at least a second string on her that was causing his confusion. It was rare, but not impossible for it to happen.

Then, his sensing clicked in fully, his mouth dropping open at the sight.

She didn't have just one, nor two, nor four strings. She had many, enough that she almost resembled a marionette. His eyes darted around at each one, unable to focus on only one.

Red strings could mean all kinds of things given how they were placed: luck, enemies, lovers, and so on. She had all of the ones he knew of, and the thought that someone could have so many unnerved him.

"Luka?" Marinette called, concern on her face. While people often questioned his abilities, she seemed to recognize that he was looking at something that hadn't been there before.

He put his poker face back on, not wanting to unnerve her when he didn't know all the details. Strings could be positive, even if it represented clumsiness, and he wouldn't truly know until he tested it himself.

Holding his hand out, he asked, "May I?"

She blinked at him, then stared down at his hand with a faint blush. Nevertheless, she settled her hand onto his and he took hold of the string tied around her finger. He couldn't take it off, but he could take the part that hung off and use it.

Marinette watched him as he carefully propped the neck of his guitar against his shoulder, doing what must've looked like miming to her. He felt the string shift and change in his hands, going from string that might be used to sew to the string on his guitar. It attached to the space on his guitar that was blatantly missing a string, allowing him to play it as though it were normal.

Eyeing Marinette's reaction, he grabbed the red string and gave it a pluck. She couldn't see it, but jolted in surprise at the sound that played at his movement. It was cute how she crouched down to look at the guitar more closely as if that would help her see it, which helped distract Luka from his worry.

Not tuning was crucial for his example even if it was instinctive, so he brought his hand up to the strings and let his fingertips glide downwards, brushing each string as they went.

The moment he hit the red one, his hand went stiff. Marinette flinched as well at the utterly unpleasant sound that came from it, not at all matching the other notes. The fact that she reacted badly as well was never a good sign, unlike all of the other things he'd noticed which at least had the chance. A string that sounded bad to the one it was attached to always meant that fate wasn't in their favor in whatever the string represented.

"I should look at the others," he decided, beckoning her closer with a hand. He hoped he didn't sound desperate, but it wasn't looking good so far. "They might sound better."

"There's more than one?" she wondered in faint alarm.

Still, she accepted, and they spent the next few minutes trying out the various different strings that she had. She watched in a mixture of wonder and trepidation, both of them hopeful that the next string might do well.

Unfortunately, said hopes were immediately dashed as each of her strings sounded.

"I've never even heard about so many," Luka mumbled to himself as he grabbed the last one, watching it go slack when it changed back to a thread in his hand.

"Ah," Marinette uttered. "What does that mean?"

He hesitated, lifting his guitar and tilting it back and forth in thought. Wracking his brain for ideas, he grasped at the only thing he could think of, saying, "...Let me try something."

He reached back into his bag, pulling out something that made Marinette gasp.

"W-wait! What are you doing?!"

"I'm going to play all your strings at once. Maybe it'll be better together."

"But--!" She snagged his wrist to prevent him from cutting. "Your guitar strings don't need replacing!"

"It's fine. I've got plenty." he assured with a smile.

They locked each other in some sort of staring contest, neither one of them bending to the will of the other, until Marinette sighed and gave in. She let go of his wrist, but made a show of crossing her arms and pouting.

She wasn't genuinely angry at him, so he found it adorable.

"Do you do a lot of work with your hands?" he asked, trying to fill the silence as he cut each string and removed them.

"Huh?" She gave him a skeptical look. "Uh, yeah, actually. How'd you know?"

"Your hand," he pointed out, "when you put it on mine. I could tell."

She didn't respond to that, but when he glanced away from his guitar to check her expression, she could see 'you noticed something like that?' playing across her face. There was a lot one could tell about a person by the way they reacted to the little things, and it made his smile widen knowing that she felt seen.

As he went about putting the strings on one at a time, he explained the strings in as much detail he could. He imagined that it was a hard concept to grasp without the experience and the fact that she still couldn't see them. He didn't want to keep anything from her at that point and hoped that her knowing might somehow put her at ease as opposed to fearing the unknown.

Then came time to test playing with only her strings on his guitar, which went exactly as well as one would think. No untuned guitar of his had ever sounded as horrid, and he got some dirty looks from some nearby civilians for it.

He would like to say that it sounded as though his guitar was cursed, but with the strings attached it felt like it might as well be.

He looked to see Marinette still crouching down in front of him, her hands pressed to her cheeks as she made the same concerned expression that he was. They were silent as he undid the strings, him still trying to process everything that had happened. He needed time to think it all over at minimum.

Marinette spoke up when it was clear that the last string had come off, "W-what do I do?" Her palms rubbed against her cheeks in her anxiety. "If none of them are any good, is that really just--my lot in life? Do I have to—"

"Hey." He reached out, leaning awkwardly over his guitar in order to put a hand on her shoulder. "You're not alone in this, Marinette. I can't tell you what'll happen and I don't know how deep my ability can go, but I want to help you. We'll figure this out together, okay?"

Her eyes searched his uncertainly, but he remained still and firm in what he'd said. Her problems may've run deeper than any others he'd dealt with, but he was determined to help out no matter what. She didn't deserve this.

Finally, she smiled gratefully at him, his conviction having broke through to her. "O-okay. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

[kopfkino-o]

The Seer’s Stone - Chapter 4

Summary: Elain Archeron is tired of being the “lovely, sweet gardener” everyone wants her to be. After losing her beloved, her humanity, her life, she’s ready to claim her own path forward with the help of her friends, Nuala and Cerridwen, as she searches far and wide for the mysterious Seer’s Stone: an ancient artifact of old rumored to once belong to an ancient Oracle. But will fate itself step in to stop her? Or will Elain defy the strings of destiny that bind her and forge her own path forward, choosing her own fate, friendships, future, and love, along the way.

Pairing: Elain x Azriel

Timeline: Post-ACOSF

Wordcount: 4244

Taglist:   @downingg2001   @gracie-rosee   @nivem565 ​ // Let me know if you want on (or off) the tag list for future updates! Thank you all for reading <3

Read:

Chapter One | The Crone’s Trade

Chapter Two | The Oracle of Seraphyros

Chapter Three | Last of Our Kind (Azriel)

THE SMUTTY STUFF - A PREVIEW

Author’s Note: I love Nesta. I love Varian. I love Cassian. I love Elain. But I hate, repeat hate, trying to make sense of the Library. Is it inside a big rock? Is it inside a Mountain? What does it look like? How did it all the books get there? Where is the actual entrance? Do the priestesses have to climb down the 10K steps every day? Is there an elevator? What about windows? I NEED MORE INFO! That is all. Sorry for the delay in updates, I’ve been unfortunately doing some rapid fire travel for work this month. 

As always, thanks for reading y’all!

- Court

"What do you think, Elain?"

The Prison, the Middle, the Autumn Court. Three stones scattered across an ancient map. Three hiding spots she might find the Seer's Stone, three places where it might have been scattered to the wind. Pythia and her staff, lost forever when Seraphyros burned or simply waiting, hidden and still waiting to be found as well? Nothing made sense, and yet...

The Prison, the Middle, the Autumn Court. The Stone singing to her even in her sleep.

“Elain? Are you even listening to me?”

She blinked.

Feyre was staring at her from across the kitchen counter, her younger sister's freckled cheek smudged with flour and her tattooed hands shoved elbow-deep in the mixing bowl set before her, a soft wrinkle furrowing her brow. Elain straightened, face heating with a blush red, and shook the warring thoughts from her head. Shook away the hundreds of questions that still lingered from two nights prior. 

"I'm sorry, Feyre," Elain offered a sheepish smile. "I think I might have fallen asleep on my feet. Again."

Her sister laughed, the sound lovely and light, like the first shimmer of starlight in the evening sky. "If I bore you that much, you could just say that."

"You don't bore me! You never could bore me." Elain insisted. "I'm just tired, that's all."

The lie was smooth and sweet, as she knew the demure look on her face was.

Feyre cocked her head. "Are you sure you don't want Madja to come and pay you a visit? Your headaches have been coming on more and more frequently as of late. I'm starting to worry about you."

"The only thing you need to worry about is that dough of yours. You'll overwork it if you keep pounding at it like it’s your enemy. "

"It is my enemy." Feyre grumbled. "There's a reason why I never cooked back in the cabin, you know."

"You never cooked back in the cabin because you were too busy caring for everyone else.” Elain said, and meant it. “Me, father, Nesta. You kept us all alive, kept us fed. And now, here you are again, caring for us all just the same.”

Feyre looked sidelong to the burnt and blackened loaf of bread still steaming on the open windowsill. “I’m not sure I’d call that ‘caring’ for anyone. ‘Poisoning’ might be a better term.” 

“This next back will be even better. I’m sure of it.” 

Feyre blew a golden-brown curl out of her eyes then reached over to place a tattooed hand atop her own. "You did your part too, Elain." She said softly, blue eyes turning tender. "Father would have never made it through the winters without you and your herbs. I know my poor blistered hands certainly wouldn’t have.” 

A soft ache paned in Elain's chest. Father.

She shoved it down deep.

"We all did our part in our own ways, Feyre," Elain said, voice softening. "Father too."

Her little sister gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. 

"I know," Feyre said softly. "And we'll keep doing our part now, together. For the Night Court, for Velaris. For our family."

Her sister's blue eyes shimmered like two stars in this light, lovely and bright with light and love. Guilt twisted in Elain's gut, black and oily. They'd become so close these last few years, Feyre sharing her home and her life and her love with Elain entirely without condition or hesitation.

And what had she done in return? Lie and lie and lie some more.

Nesta floated into the kitchen then, gray skirts swirling like silver embers in her wake and Cassian close on her heels. 

Both warriors were dressed in their formal attire but still wore swords strapped down the columns of their backs. Nesta's hair, surprisingly, was unbound today, the long golden-brown locks flowing over her bare shoulders. There was a certain glow about her, one of life and health.

"Morning, ladies," Cassian said, a lopsided smile gracing his handsome face as he leaned against the counter beside Feyre. "How's the baking going?"

"Painfully," Feyre grumbled, but the corner of her lips quirked up despite herself.

"Well, it smells fucking great."

The General reached to pluck one of the still-cooling quiches off its cooling rack but Nesta swatted him away, her hard blue eyes silently berating him. Cassian mere shrugged, unbothered, and pressed a kiss to Elain's temple before sneaking a taste of her cinnamon icing anyway. He winked at the sisters, hazel eyes bright in the morning sun, then swaggered from the room, whistling as he went.

"He's insufferable," Nesta muttered.

Feyre and Elain both shared a knowing smile. Their older sister could complain about her mate as much as she wanted, but they all knew the truth: she loved him, and he her. It warmed Elain's heart to see Nesta happy, finally healthy, and mated, Cauldron spare them all.

But it also brought a soft pang of jealousy that twisted in her gut.

"Are the others here?" Feyre asked.

Nesta rested her elbows atop the kitchen counter. "For the most part."

"For the most part?"

"Morrigan hasn't deigned to join us yet and Azriel is unable to make it. Something about a late-night mission, I think. He never came home last night."

Elain's stomach fell somewhere far below her knees at the words but she forced herself to focus on her dish, her fingers absently stirring the icing around and around the mixing bowl. None of that mattered, not anymore. Azriel's business was his own and she had no place sniffing around in it besides. 

Especially not when there were so many other pressing matters at hand.

The Prison, the Middle, the Autumn Court.

"Is everything alright with him?" Feyre asked, brows knitting.

Nestra shrugged, the gesture casual. "You know how he is. He likes his space."

"I know, but he's hardly been around these last few months. It’s almost like he’s actually trying to avoid us."

"Maybe you should ask your mate, then."

Feyre straightened. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." Nesta said, checking her nails. "Just thought Rhys might have some sort of opinion on the matter, seeing as he is the one giving Az all these new assignments aboard."

"Those assignments are to ensure the safety of this court. You know that, Nesta." Feyre said firmly, blue eyes hard. "I know you and Az are close, and I know you have your own... opinions on the nature of his work, but we need as much intel on our enemies as we can gather. Especially now.” She shook her head, exhaling a long breath. “So if Rhys needs him for a mission, then he needs him. It's simple as that."

Nesta clicked her tongue. "Of course it is."

Elain cleared her throat, interjecting before the conversation could continue any further, partially out of her own selfish desires and partially to avoid a verbal sparring match between her two sisters. "I think everything is just about finished," She announced, forcing a wide smile. "Why don't we get everything out to the table before it gets cold?"

Feyre frowned. "What about my bread?"

"Brave of you to consider that watery mess of flour 'bread'," Nesta said before grabbing a serving plater stuffed full of eggs and sauntering from the room, the silver hilt of Ataraxia flashing as she went.

Feyre’s frown deepened.  

"Is it really that bad? Truly?"

Elain smiled sympathetically at her little sister, unable to admit that Nesta, in fact, was right. The soupy mess in Feyre's mixing bowl was a mess.

"It's not bad," She said gently. "But it could be better. We can start over with your recipe later this afternoon. I'm sure some freshly baked bread would go great with dinner, too."

"Maybe I should just stick to painting." Feyre sighed.

Elain couldn't help but crack a smile. "Maybe."

They shared a laugh and Elain gave Feyre's shoulder a comforting squeeze before they gathered up the rest of the serving platters and plates.

The others were already gathered around the long trestle table in the middle of the Riverhouse’s informal dining room. If the vast space overlooking the sprawling manor gardens and the sparkling Sidra beyond could even be called that. 

Some were already in the unofficially assigned seats while others stood before the wide wall of floor to ceiling windows and chatted, the sound of their lively voices and soft laughter filling the morning air. 

Rhys, Cassian, and Varian were speaking animatedly together near the doorway while Mor, the beauty still dressed in her red silk pajamas and fluffy slippers, was pouring herself a large glass of steaming coffee from a carafe on the sideboard, a sleepy look still painted on her perfect face. Amren was seated at the head of the table, inspecting a plate of fluffy pastries with a critical eye while Nyx dozed peacefully in her slender arms. 

Rhys turned to greet them with a dazzling smile, Elain's brother-in-law the portrait of effortless beauty and grace in his immaculate black tunic and matching jacket. 

"You've outdone yourself again, Elain," He drawled, violet eyes glimmering. "Everything looks, and smells, amazing. A proper feast, if I do say so myself."

Elain offered a humble smile. "Thank you, but I can't take all the credit. Feyre was a great help The perfect sous chef, if I do say so myself."

"Was she now?

"Of course I was," Feyre chimed in, a playful smile tugging at her lips as she rounded the table to join at her mate's side. "I even managed to sneak in a few burnt offerings to keep things interesting."

Rhys pressed a kiss to Feyre's temple. "I’d expect nothing less from you, Feyre darling."

Elain's heart tightened at the sight of them, at Nesta and Cassian leaning into one another as they spoke softly, at the warm smile Varian offered Amren when no one was looking, and the subtle look of admiration the ancient one returned. Even Mor seemed to be glowing with a new sense of contentment and happiness, the beauty apparently smitten with one of Nesta's fellow Valkyries.

Then Elain's eyes fell on the empty seat furthest from the hearth, and the lack of place setting set before it and something inside her withered further.

It doesn't matter, she tried to tell herself.

But it didn't help.

"Shall we sit?" Rhys asked.

The Inner Circle grumbled their approval and, one by one, took up their respective seats around the breakfast table. Elain settled down between Feyre and Mor, her seat directly across from the one that still remained empty. The others took no time in filling their plates, everyone piling their plates high with fried bread and scrambled eggs and black-pepper bacon and roasted potatoes and an assortment of fresh pastries that would have put even the finest bakers in Velaris to shame.

But Elain found herself picking at her food, her appetite suddenly gone. Her attention was elsewhere, her gaze constantly pulled to that empty seat. Where was he? She tried her best not to think of him, of the last words they exchanged on that fateful Solstice night, but sometimes the weight of his absence felt almost tangible. Nesta said he'd never come home last night and Elain couldn't help but wonder, despite her best efforts not to, if it was because he was spending time with someone else.

Someone who wasn’t her. 

A warm hand came down atop her own and Elain was pulled from her thoughts to find the Morrigan staring at her, big brown eyes soft in the early morning light and beautiful face contemplative. "Everything alright?" She asked softly.

"Oh, yes, perfectly fine. Just, tired, that's all."

Mor hummed but didn't press the matter further. Instead, she gently squeezed Elain's hand before returning to her conversation with Cassian and Varian about the latest win Velaris's sports team had secured the night prior.

"Cauldron spare me, it was fucking beautiful," The General was saying. "That last play, Mother's tits, I was certain we were about to lose but then the Keeper made that lovely shot and boom, the game was ours."

"Beautiful indeed." Varian chuckled, the sound lovely and deep. "A shame Lucien wasn't here to see it, he would have been thrilled."

Elain’s blood ran cold at the mention of his name. Lucien. The seventh son of autumn and-- 

A chilling realization clanged through her.  The Prison, the Middle, the Autumn Court. Cauldron spare her, how had she not even considered this. Lucien was a son of Beron, the youngest of his brood. 

Elain blinked and a flash of an image shivered in her mind's eye. 

A sun setting over a fire-red forest, a golden serpent twinning up the frail trunk of a wilting tree, its leaves falling like tears to the forest floor to blanket a rotting fawn in it’s funeral shroud, a bird of flame watching and weeping as it circled high above. 

She blinked again and the strange vision was gone.

Blinked and found Amren staring right at her. 

The ancient one's silver eyes were narrowed, her blood-red lips pursed in a look of consideration. A look a predator saved only for their prey. Elain's skin prickled with goosebumps as a cold shiver ran down her spine. It was as if the female could see into her mind, her very soul.

"I think it's a good thing he's keeping away," Amren drawled, her eyes never straying from Elain's face. "His loyalties clearly no longer lie with us. Let him play mortal with Vassa and Jurian as long as he damn well pleases, his absence means one less liability for us to worry about."

Rhys cleared his throat. "I thought we agreed to no court business this morning."

Amren rolled her eyes but returned to her measly plate of food without complaint, though Elain didn't fail to notice the words Varian softly murmured in her ear, the Prince of Adriata surprisingly tender, given the nature of his lover. Or whatever Amren was to him. No one was brave enough to ever ask and Elain certainly wasn't going to be the first to.

The rest of their family breakfast continued without incident, though Cassian, Nesta, and Mor all managed to slip in a few playful jabs at one another, as they so often did. Elain tried her best to remain engaged, to keep her focus on her family and friends, but her thoughts wandered nonetheless.

The Prison, the Middle, the Autumn Court. The empty seat across the table, the lost priestesses of Seraphyros, the seventh son of Autumn.

She needed to speak with Kalla. Needed to formulate an official plan with the twins. Needed to figure out how the hell she was going to pull off her next move without putting any of her friends in danger. Or tipping her sisters off on her secrets. 

Elain knew she couldn't keep her intentions hidden from them forever, but she also knew neither Feyre nor Nesta would react well to what she was attempting to do. Researching a strange artifact and collaborating with a mysterious acolyte from half a world away was one thing, actually setting out to retrieve the fragments of said artifacts was a whole other.

By the time their plates were cleared, Nesta and Cassian had already retired to their room on the Riverhouse's topmost floor and Nyx was dozing peacefully in his mother's arms, Feyre just as seemingly tired as her newborn son, her little sister yawning as she swept quietly up the stairs to lay the infant down for a nap. Varian and Rhys were seemingly content to discuss matters of state alone in the High Lord's office, leaving her alone with only Amren and Mor alone at the dining table. Elain's eyes shifted towards the doorway leading out to the sprawling veranda and her gardens that lie beyond.

She took a deep breath and rose from her seat, smoothing down the skirts of her amethyst dress and offering the two other women a sweet, innocent smile. "Forgive me, ladies, but I've got some gardening in the city I need to attend to," She said, voice a shade softer than she intended it. "But it was great seeing you all. I do hope you'll join us for family dinner."

Mor merely yawned and offered a sleepy farewell. Amren, however, fixed Elain with a withering look that stripped her bare and laid her clean, her strange silver eyes seeing everything and missing nothing.

"Gardening, hm," Amren hummed, her lips pursing ever so slightly. "Do take care not to entangle yourself in any thorns, girl."

Elain forced a pretty little smile. "I always do."

Though the ancient one said nothing more Elain could have sworn her eyes followed her all the way out of the room and onto the streets beyond.

Elain brought a bouquet of irises to the Library as an offering for Clotho. Their sweet scent perfumed the dry, dusty air as she approached the large wooden doors, the whisper-soft petals brushing her fingertips as she held them carefully. She hoped the flowers would be enough.

She pushed open the massive doors of the Library and was immediately greeted by the sight of towering bookshelves rising high up into the gloom, tall and proud and seemingly unending.

Clotho was seated at her usual desk, the high priestess's face concealed beneath her heavy hood, tall stacks of books surrounding her on either side. Elain approached the woman slowly, purposefully, so as not to scare her and made sure each step sounded loudly off the worn marble.

"Hello, Clotho," Elain said gently.

Clotho lifted her head and though her face was entirely concealed beneath the darkness of her heavy hood, Elain could have sworn the priestess offered her a smile. She returned the gesture and gently set her bouquet of flowers atop Clotho's desk.

"For you," She said

A pen and a piece of parchment appeared in the air between them and Clotho's enchanted pen began to move effortlessly across the page. From your garden, Lady Elain?

The title tickled something in her. Lady.

"Yes, from my new greenhouse at Feyre's Riverhouse," Elain replied. "I wanted to thank you for permitting my friend access to the Library, especially so last minute, and I heard you had a soft spot for the color purple."

A beautiful gift, thank you. They shall bring us all a little bit of life down here.

"I do hope Kalla's arrival hasn't... upset the nature of things. The last thing I'd ever want is to cause a burden for you and the other women."

A soft sound that might have almost been a laugh came from beneath Clotho's hood.

Lady Valenholt has been a lively addition to our humble little library and we do not often have the honor of hosting an artificer here in our sacred space. She is welcome to stay and work as long as her research demands.

"Thank you, Clotho. Truly."

The priestess inclined her hooded head and her pen scratched out a new message.

You'll find Kalla in one of the offices on the third floor. And Elain?

"Yes?"

Tread carefully, Lady of Sacred Visions. Nothing is ever as it seems.

A chill ran down Elain's spine at the words, at this new title bestowed on her, but before she had the chance to question it further, before she could even ask, Clotho magicked her enchanted pen away and bowed her head, returning to the pile of work spread before her. Conversation over, then, she supposed. The last thing Elain wanted to do was disrespect the priestess’s request for silence so Elain dropped into a low, elegant curtsey before gathering the skirts of her amethyst and striding for the Library's massive oaken doors.

The dusty smell of old tomes and worn leather and the faint smell of sage immediately struck Elain as she stepped out onto the Library's uppermost floor. She had only come here a few times before, but each time she was immediately struck by the sheer size of the Library and the boundless knowledge stored within its halls. It was a place of quiet reverence, a place that left her bones feeling settled and her mind at ease.

Elain craned her neck as she took in the hundreds upon hundreds of bookshelves occupying the expansive space, some so tall they disappeared into the misty gloom of the cavern above and each stuffed full with every book and scroll and tome imaginable. How many secrets did the Library hold? Certainly far too many for even an immortal to uncover, the collection far too vast to ever be read in full, even over the course of a Fae's long-lived lifetime.

But, perhaps, that was the wicked irony of immortality.

Elain trailed her fingers over the carved banister of the grand staircase as she made her way to the floor below. 

It made sense to her that Nesta had found solace in this place. It was quiet, yes, but it was quiet that resounded with fierce, determined purpose. The Library was knowledge and rule, it was law and absolute understanding, it was a place not for the broken but for the fiercely determined. A place women could come to reclaim their power, reclaim their destinies. The strength of this place leaked from every bookshelf, every feminine whisper, every rustle of turning pages and every sigh of contemplation.

Yes, there was power in this place indeed.  

Elain found Kalla's assigned office on the third floor easily enough. This section of the Library was busier than most, the floor crowded with priestesses gathered around long tables and perched in worn leather chairs, some heavily engrossed in their studies while others were content to gossip in low, hush tones. 

A small group of them were gathered outside one of the office doors, eyes wide as they watched whatever unfolded beyond the doorway, whispering between themselves. Elain gently pushed past, weaving between closely gathered shoulders until she too stood in the doorway and marveled at the sight that lay beyond.

Open books floated midair all around the room, pale white runes and strange shifting marks shimmering above their open pages, both swirling and warping around Kalla Valenholt's lowered head, the artificer seemingly entirely unaware of either the spectacle unfolding above her or the audience gathered at her door. She scratched away in a large tome entirely unbothered, one hand clutching her ink quill, the other raised and surrounded by twinning threads of iridescent gossamer.

"Ah, good, you're finally here. Shut the door on your way in, won't you, Elain?" The artificer said without so much as lifting her head, seemingly entirely unaware of the spectacular unfolding all around her and the crowd gathered at her door.

Or, more like, just simply unbothered.

Elain offered the gathered priestesses an apologetic smile before stepping into the spacious office and pulling the heavy wood door closed behind her. 

The room seemed to hum with wild energy filled with light and wonder. She could feel it pulsing in her bones, crackling in the air and space all around her. A loose leaf of parchment whizzed past, ferried on the wind by the twisting strands of power that danced all through the room. Elain watched in awe as it fluttered up to join the rest of the swirling books and runes, a complex dance she did not understand nor recognize.

"Never seen spellspinning before?"

Elain blinked.

Across the room, Kalla had finally lifted her head from her books and was now watching Elain take in the spectacle with an amused, maybe even smug, look on her pretty face. A pair of oculars were perched on the bridge of her nose and, even at this distance, Elain could see the dark smudges beneath Kalla's green eyes.

Elain shook her head. "No."

"Looks more impressive than it really is. Just about anyone could learn to do it. If they've got the stomach for it, of course." A crooked little grin. "Meditating on the root of spells, on the natural Weave of all magic, is pretty nasty shit."

Elain had no idea what that meant and the look of mischief in Kalla's eyes suggested she was probably better off not knowing anyways. She had enough nasty shit when it came to her own powers to begin with. 

The two of them would need to talk about that later, but first. The Prison, the Middle, the Autumn Court. Three stones atop the map.

Elain ventured deeper into the room, ducking just in time to avoid an oncoming spellbook spearing for her, the pages flying as runes and sigils swirled above it like a maelstrom of knowledge and power. "Dare I ask what it is you're trying to... spin?"

“Nothing, as of right now. That’ll come later, but for now,” A small, wicked smile. “Let’s talk about the Prison.” 

Elain swallowed hard. 

“So you do know of it, then?” 

“Does that surprise you?” 

“No.” Elain tucked a golden-brown curl behind an arched ear. “What of it?” 

“I certainly can’t get in, no matter how hard I, or my spells, might try. You don’t seem like you’d be permitted either.” 

Elain tried not to take offense to the jab. She could do whatever she damn well pleased... well, maybe. 

She folded her arms across her chest. “So what are you suggesting?” 

The smile on Kalla’s face was simply wicked. 

“I hear your court has a shadowsinger.” 

[gaymakima]

a story told in rainbows and strings

read on ao3 here

Silver eyes come with another little gift: the ability to see the threads binding their destiny together. The people who would be their enemies, family, friends, lovers, even killers—the most important architects of one’s life—can be seen with just one glimpse of their ribbon. Different colours signified different destinies. Summer meets Raven, a girl entangled in her own web of fate, and discovers soulmates aren’t so cut and dry as she thought.

Rosebird Week 2023 Day 1: Red Thread of Fate

wordcount: 6,159

So here's my fic for @rosebird-week 's first prompt! This one got out of control quickly, but uh, maybe I'll write a sequel fic to it to cover the stuff I didn't get to yet. This fic is pre-relationship (but you know they're down bad for each other) but future entries for the week they are soooo dating and married and a little bit divorced <33

snippet below cut

Summer’s life is made of strings. It’s not something she can ever pinpoint beginning, nor does she remember when she realised no one else saw the world made up of tiny, inconsequential strings like she does.  The threads cannot be touched.  She cannot cut them, change them, or prove their existence to those who can’t see them.  They are like ghosts, ethereal and transparent. All Summer can do is observe them and listen.

The first string she remembers being enchanted by is her grandmother’s.  Nanna Rose lived on a rocking chair in the highest room of the family’s seaside cottage, her window facing the endless blue waters and her walls adjourned with papers and trinkets.  She had a fondness for embroidery, her wrinkled and frail old fingers working day after day on whatever new project tickled her fancy.  Sometimes she’d stitch together a rose to give to her grandchild.  Sometimes she would recreate a memory of hers in her art before they would fade from her mind.  Sometimes—very rarely—she would knit a scarf for when her son and daughter-in-law returned from sea.  Like she expected them to sail in from the horizon at any moment and laugh because they’d forgotten to take their own on their initial odyssey.

(Summer remembers thinking even then that it was just self-deception)

Nanna Rose had silver eyes.  It took Summer a while to figure out, because there was a difference between silver and grey that didn't quite make sense to a toddler and Nanna Rose's eyes had dulled from age.  The aunts and uncles who stayed in that cottage with them—all from her mother's side of the family, her father was an only child—did not share this trait.  Summer did, though.  And she loved it.  She didn't know why; perhaps having something in common with her Nanna made her feel special, or the unusual colours were pretty.

[shiloh-the-pokemon]

[A video is attached.

Shiloh, a Charcadet, marches up the mountain. They look upward at the large Bombirdier above them. They call out in Pokespeak.

"hey, dinkass! thats mine!"

The Bombirdier looks down at them. The titan caws in Pokespeak, "This is my nest. I build it with things I find. And I am stronger than you. So, it is not yours. That is how this works."

Shiloh balls their hands into fists, "im getting my shit back!" They grab the small piece of Charcoal they were holding onto, and throw it right at Bombirdier. It hits it square on the forehead, causing the titan to recoil.

It spreads its wings wide and takes off, each flap of the giant bird's wings audible. It flies a circle around Shiloh as it speaks, "You are now an enemy. I will give you no chance to run."

The Open Sky Titan lets out a Rock Throw, hurling a boulder towards Shiloh. Shiloh jumps out of the way, stumbling slightly as they land. They look up at their opponent, who wastes no time diving down for a Pluck.

Shiloh barely dives out of the way of the bird's beak, landing on their stomach. They prop themself up on one arm and look back at the Bombirdier. Cracks have formed around where its beak pierced the ground, and it is struggling to pull its beak out. Shiloh pushes themself up, and throws a handful of BrightPowder right at it.

The titan jolts up and lets out a pained caw, before lifting up into the sky. A tear forms in the corner of its eye, pained from the attack.

It flies away from the battlefield, before making a turn to circle back around. Its wing begins to glow a bright white. Shiloh's eyes widen, and they quickly throw the Smoke Ball to the ground, breaking it.

The Bombirdier dives down for a Wing Attack, aiming for its now hidden opponent. As it emerges from the smoke, it points its beak upward toward the sky.

It turns back towards the battlefield, and a small red creature can be seen on its back. The titan caws, "Off of me, you pest!"

Shiloh grips onto the Bombirdier's feathers for dear life. The titan dives and spins, in an attempt to shake its unwelcome rider off. Shiloh keeps their grip tight, and cry out, "not until i get back my scarf!"

The Bombirdier loudly caws, seething anger in its cry, "It is mine, you pest!"

"no. its. not!"

The arena becomes engulfed in swirling flames. The Bombirdier makes a sharp turn to avoid colliding with the wall of flame, but the pillar is too small. The tip of its wing gets caught in the blaze, and it lets out a pained cry.

Unable to keep up the aerial fight in the new fiery enclosure, the Bombirdier lands in its nest. It shakes its body, and lets out a furious shriek. Shiloh lets go, flying into the nest. Seeing the oppurtunity, they make a dash for the blue scarf in the branches.

And they grab it. At the edge of the nest, they look down towards the mountain where the two had been fighting. The grey stones now lit up by the bright orange blaze. Knowing they have no choice, they make the jump down.

But not before getting a mighty Pluck in the back.

They fall to the ground, still clutching the scarf, and letting out a pained groan. They try to push themself up, but they do not have the strength. The mighty titan lands behind them, "You are finished, thief. Take this as a lesson."

Shiloh coughs. They look like they are about to collapse. But before they do, they shakily raise their hand up.

"uno reverse, bitch."

A red thread appears around their hand. It slowly extends, forming out of thin air, towards the titan. The Bombirdier attempts to back up, but the string is growing too fast. It wraps around their leg, trapping them.

Destiny Bond.

Shiloh lets out a pained chuckle, before their head drops. The pillar of flame surrounding the two enemies slowly dissipates. The titan lets out a pained cry, "NO!"

The Bombirdier's feet grow unsteady, and soon they collapse as well. The red string dissipates. Both of them lay there, fainted.

A few minutes pass, and neither of them move. The beating of wings can be heard in the distance, slowly approaching. A Corviknight lands with a satchel over its shoulder, inspecting the area.

It hops towards Shiloh. The Corviknight nudges them, they do not wake up. It lifts Shiloh into the satchel with their scarf. The bird sighs, "We have been worried about you." It looks at the passenger in the satchel, who twitches slightly. The Corviknight sighs again, and flies towards the camera. They lift the recording phone into their bag as well.

The video ends.]

[lucascecil]

Fourth Doctor - Project: Blue Box

TV stories

◆ Robot

◆ The Ark in Space

◆ The Sontaran Experiment

◆ Genesis of the Daleks

◆ Revenge of the Cybermen

◆ Terror of the Zygons

◆ Planet of Evil

◆ Pyramids of Mars

◆ The Android Invasion

◆ The Brain of Morbius

◆ The Seeds of Doom

◆ The Masque of the Mandragora

◆ The Hand of Fear

◆ The Deadly Assassin

◆ The Face of Evil

◆ The Robots of Death

◆ The Talons of Weng-Chiang

◆ Horror of Fang Rock

◆ The Invisible Enemy

◆ Image of the Fendahl

◆ The Sun Makers

◆ Underworld

◆ The Invasion of Time

◆ The Ribos Operation

◆ The Pirate Planet

◆ The Stones of Blood

◆ The Androids of Tara

◆ The Power of Kroll

◆ The Armageddon Factor

◆ Destiny of the Daleks

◆ City of Death

◆ The Creature from the Pit

◆ Nightmare of Eden

◆ The Horns of Nimon

◆ Shada

◆ The Leisure Hive

◆ Meglos

◆ Full Circle

◆ State of Decay

◆ Warrior’s Gate

◆ The Keeper of Traken

◆ Logopolis

Audio stories

- 4th Doctor Adventures & Audio Novels

◆ The Watchers

◆ Night of the Stormcrow

◆ Destination: Nerva

◆ The Renaissance Man

◆ The Wrath of the Iceni

◆ Energy of the Daleks

◆ Trail of the White Worm/The Oseidon Adventures

◆ The Auntie Matter

◆ The Sands of Life/War Against the Laan

◆ The Justice of Jalxar

◆ Phantoms of the Deep

◆ The Dalek Contract/The Final Phase

◆ The King of Sontar

◆ White Ghosts

◆ The Crooked Man

◆ The Evil One

◆ Last of the Colophon

◆ Destroy the Infinite

◆ The Abandoned

◆ Zygon Hunt

◆ The Exxilons

◆ The Darkness of Glass

◆ Requiem for the Rocket Men

◆ Death Match

◆ Suburban Hell

◆ The Cloisters of Terror

◆ The Fate of Krelos/Return to Telos

◆ Wave of Destruction

◆ The Labyrinth of Buda Castle

◆ The Paradox Planet/Legacy of Death

◆ Gallery of Ghouls

◆ The Trouble with Drax

◆ The Pursuit of History/Casualties of Time

◆ The Beast of Kravenos

◆ The Eternal Battle

◆ The Silent Scream

◆ Dethras

◆ The Haunting of Malkin Place

◆ Subterranea

◆ The Mavellan Grave

◆ The Skin of the Sleek/The Thief Who Stole Time

◆ The Sons of Kaldor

◆ The Crowmarsh Experiment

◆ The Mind Runners/The Demon Rises

◆ The Shadow of London

◆ The Bad Penny

◆ Kill the Doctor!/The Age of Sutekh

◆ The Sinestran Kill

◆ Planet of the Drashigs

◆ The Enchantress of Numbers

◆ The False Guardian/Time’s Assassin

◆ Fever Island

◆ The Perfect Prisoners

◆ Purgatory 12

◆ Chase the Night

◆ The Planet of the Witches

◆ The Quest of the Engineer

◆ Shadow of the Sun

◆ The World Traders

◆ The Day of the Comet

◆ The Tribulations of Thadeus Nook

◆ The Primeval Design

◆ Blood of the Time Lords

◆ The Ravencliff Witch

◆ The Dreams of Avarice

◆ Shellshock

◆ Peake Season

◆ Ice Heist

◆ Antilia the Lost

◆ The Wizard of Time

◆ The Friendly Invasion

◆ Stone Cold

◆ The Ghost of Margaret

◆ Storm of the Sea Devils

◆ World Beyond

◆ Matryoshka

◆ The Caged Assassin

◆ Metamorphosis

◆ The Face in the Storm

◆ Dominant Species

- The Companion Chronicles

◆ The Child

◆ The Catalyst

◆ Empathy Games

◆ The Time Vampire

◆ Ferril’s Folly

◆ Tales from the Vault

◆ The Stealers from Saiph

◆ The Beautiful People

◆ The Pyralis Effect

◆ Luna Romana

◆ The Invasion of E-Space

- The Lost Stories

◆ The Foe from the Future

◆ The Valley of Death

◆ The Doomsday Contract

- Past Doctors, New Monsters

◆ Night of the Vashta Nerada

- Phillip Hinchcliffe Presents

◆ The Ghosts of Gralstead

◆ The Devil’s Armada

◆ The Genesis Chamber

◆ The Helm of Awe

◆ The God of Panthoms

- Short Trips

◆ #HarrySullivan

◆ Collector’s Item

◆ The Wondrous Box

◆ How to Win Planets and Influence People

◆ Chain Reaction

◆ Only Connect

◆ Deleted Scenes

◆ The Revisionists

◆ Death-Dealer

◆ The Ghost Trap

◆ Black Dog

◆ The Beast of Muir

◆ Sound the Siren and I’ll Come To You Comrade

◆ The Smallest Bride

◆ String Theory

◆ I Am the Master

◆ The Warren Legacy

◆ The Doctor’s First XI

◆ The Old Rogue

◆ Breadcrumbs

◆ Waiting for Gadot

◆ A Full Life

◆ Messages from the Dead

◆ Erasure

Books

◆ The Romance of Crime

◆ System Shock

◆ Managra

◆ The English Way of Crime

◆ The Shadow of Weng-Chiang

◆ A Device of Death

◆ The Well-Mannered War

◆ Eye of Heaven

◆ Last Man Running

◆ Millenium Shock

◆ Corpse Maker

◆ Tomb of Valdemar

◆ Festival of Death

◆ Asylum

◆ Psi-ence

◆ Drift

◆ Wolfsbane

◆ Match of the Day

◆ The Drasten Curse

[kinomiya]

Rufescent

Hello welcome to this (short) really fucking weird allegory I thought of at 4am that maybe became far too literal at the end but that was the funny thing about it.

rufescent.

ru·fes·cent | \ ro͞oˈfes(ə)nt \

     1. tinged with red or rufous.

It started almost a decade ago, as the ice receded and reality returned to focus, as his vision restored, no longer blotted by black and white spots and they stood there in a cold white stadium, surrounded by thousands of spectators holding silent breaths, in both anticipation and fear of the outcome.

It was then, as the revelation of his failure washed over him, as the crowd cheered deafeningly over his defeat and as the younger teenage boy he once considered an enemy held out a comforting hand to him that he only briefly hesitated to take.

That was when the first little carmine thread appeared.

And in the very same instant, Tala took a knife and severed that thread, because he would not be a puppet in yet another person's game.

But fate is a cruel mistress and he would once again find himself attached to sanguine coloured strings as he faded in and out of consciousness as unfamiliar arms held onto him and the normally jubilant voice of their owner filled with utter contempt, as he swore vengeance.

When he awoke in an empty, unfamiliar hospital room to the sounds of dozens of machines monitoring his status, he tore the strings away as he tore the IV out of his arm while medical staff stormed the room in an attempt to subdue him. As he succumbed to the chemically induced apathy caused by the drugs pumping through his veins, he took comfort that he had foiled some so-called destiny again.

But as the snow fell outside on this cold February morning, and in his apartment doorway stood the adult man who had so many years ago taken his hand, and had once held him tight as he swore vengeance. Tala became acutely aware that he had failed to completely rend those tiny strands attached to him.

The younger man would walk towards him, a voracious smile that didn’t suit him spread across his lips as he slowly closed the distance between them.  And as Tala tried to move away he found himself tethered by a thick red rope, as the thousands of strings he'd meticulously sliced away over the years now braided into one.

The other man would grab onto the tightly woven cord and pull him forward until Tala could feel his breath against his face.  The smile could morph into something much more serene and he moved his free hand to run along Tala’s cheek before whispering happily:

“I finally found you.”

The rope around him constricted, and Tala exhaled a breathy, incredulous laugh as he stared straight into his counterpart's blue eyes, a ghost of a smile forming on his lips at the absurdity of it all.

This had always been inevitable… no, inescapable after all.

[simplegenius042]

Soulmate AU Protagonists and Antagonists Story Idea

Admittedly, I've never been the biggest fan of soulmate AUs. I suppose it's never been something that fits the whole schtick I'm going with in the fanfics I'm writing (the whole theme of "screw destiny" and the subversions or alternate perspectives of things such as fate, destiny, the chosen one, etc).

That doesn't mean I hate the AU, or the stories I've read (no matter if they were either incredible or cliched, dark or wholesome). But besides the worldbuilding and the dynamics and the slowburns, there really wasn't much to offer for me. Not that there wasn't any unoriginality, but it was lacking some kind of specific conflict (whether it be in the story itself or between characters).

I have read plenty of ways the AU is handled. And the general consensus I've found is mostly along the lines of "slowburn of Character A & Character B, dislike/enemies-to-fated-lovers" (whether the enemy part is justified or not depends on the themes) and rarely found any subversions like "Character A rejects Character B for, let's face it, justifiable reasons and ends up with Character C outside the universe's laws and society expectations" and even rarer "Character A doesn't like Character B very much and the universe acknowledges this so allows A to fate themselves to the better suitor, Character C". And these stories ARE enduring to read, but it just wasn't enough for the itch I was trying to scratch (It's really hard to explain, and a strange feeling overall).

Like, mostly it's heavily focused on the romance aspect (understandable, soulmate is in the name) instead of the implications that come with the fact people have soulmates and have initials/marks/symbols/names/countdowns/etc, etc to prove it. Most of the time, those implications are brushed over briefly (again, understandable), and rarely touched upon. Not only that, but the AU itself doesn't leave much argument on the pros and cons of being fated (besides the obvious "mutually disliked persons/enemies are fated" to each other) or the morality and potential existential conflicts that are there in the AU, if that's easy to understand (which I've rarely seen anyone touch upon, which is again, understandable, as that's not the whole point of the AU, and it is nobodies responsibility to write those specific premise out).

Don't get me wrong, overall the AU is an incredibly interesting premise to write out in beloved fandoms, especially with your favourite characters involved, but it just wasn't something for me...

...until today.

Given the implications of the soulmate AU (specifically, that you have a soul that is bound to another person, therefore implying a level of spiritual mythos (destiny, magic, red string of fate, etc), and even more religious ones (like God, angels, heaven and hell) exists in the AU), I think I can write a fulfilling fanfic with it. Both with original (well, I say original for some of these characters, but also somewhat alternate take on) characters and even an intriguing conflict.

The conflict and arguments of the story centres around two pairs of character. First pair are the protagonists; the (re: God's) Angel of Life, Archangel Metatron, and one of Death's aspiring newest recruits, an Angel of Death by the name of Azriel (and no, this is not Azrael, the (re: God's) Angel of Death, Azriel is the growing human soul of a girl at 11-years-old now who literal-Death-itself took in because she died an infant and couldn't be taken in to either Heaven nor Hell due to not being able to live for long). The second pair are antagonists; a hellborne-demon from the Sloth Ring by the name of Xiang Ba'al, and his adopted daughter, the wrongfully damned soul of a young girl (around 10-years-old) by the name of Jezebel Ba'al (Jazzy for short). Now despite being protagonists and antagonists, these two pairs of characters fall in a (light and dark, respectively) grey morality with mixes of blue/orange morality (which is a given; these are beings with a limited and/or flawed understanding of human beings and who live in two very flawed and different systems (both Heaven and Hell have issues)). This light/dark grey morality eventually evens out and gets greyer and greyer as the story goes on.

Essentially, both pairs fight for and against the soulmate system... both understand that the system is both a great idea but severely flawed and go about to preserve yet change it... however, how they both go about it is the difference. The angels' method, while manipulative on emotional levels, is less likely to cause physical harm, but is also slow and time consuming which may not even work sometimes leading to unexpected confrontations between humans. Meanwhile, the demons' method, while physically forceful to horrific degrees, gets effective results fast, but is a violation on the humans' right of choice.

Additional Notes: Metatron and Azriel have a flawed yet growing mentor/student and brother/sister dynamic while Xiang and Jazzy have a pretty caring yet horrifyingly psychotic father/daughter and master/underling dynamic. They both travel and pop up in any universe with a Soulmate AU.

Anyway that's just me talking about things on my mind and my ideas of a fic series I'm going to write.

Chow!

[mochimelt]

Destiny-tober, #2; No Time To Explain

This became a little thing about drinking and stasis instead of the gun, but whatever! wherever my mind leads, I'll follow

“No time to explain!” “Ha, like the gun!” Risk-9 laughed as they stumbled across the road, wrist held tightly by the Awoken before them, their vision swaying as they ran. Hiccups bubbled up their throat, words melding together as they tried to speak. “Come on, I want to show you something!” Ashen smiled weakly, hand holding tightly to their arm. Risk nodded their head and their thoughts swirled like liquid, swishing back and forth like red wine in a tall glass, their head swaying to the same rhythmic pattern.

“Alright, up, up.” Ashen's voice sounded just above them. She took their hand in her own and pulled, Risk's other hand grabbing at the top of the wall and feet kicking to try and fix their balance. Their body rolled over the wall and onto the ceiling, a low groan leaving their throat. “I'm gonna throw up.” “No you won't, Exo's can't throw up.” Risk lurched anyway, arms holding their torso up as they forced breaths through their lungs. Wine threatened to spill out of their head, dragging their thoughts with it, unconsciousness begging for Risk to fall. They shot their head up and sat straight. Couldn't lose those precious thoughts. The rest of the journey was foggy. Risk jumped over walls, crossed rugged ceilings, climbed across pipes. Their freerunning knowledge certainly helped despite their drunken state. Sure, Risk could simply turn off the code that caused them to feel drunk from the alcohol, but that was no fun. What was the point of drinking all those shots if not to get drunk and lose all their memories? No, they'd take the suffering and the stumbling steps if it meant they'd feel this nice. Ashen pulled them through an open window, both their bodies tumbling into the small twin bed against the wall. They laid still for several moments before breaking out into laughter. Risk's chest hurt and their hands dug into their sides. They really should've eaten something earlier. Ashen picked herself up and disappeared into the kitchenette for a minute, returning with her hands full and a smile on her face. “Look what Meredith made for me.” She held out a little shotglass, which Risk took in their hands. It was a deep blue, jagged cuts within giving it a bright shine, frost growing on the ends of their fingertips as they held it. “Are these Stasis shotglasses?” Ashen nodded enthusiastically. She popped the cap off her bottle and threw it somewhere, pouring her drink haphazardly and ignoring how it spilled onto her wooden floors. “Meredith and the Exo Stranger made them. Somehow. I dunno, ask her.” She held the bottle out and Risk took it, pouring a drink for themself. ”All I know is she told me not to tell Zavala. He's not a fan of Stasis thingies in the Tower.“ ”Sounds dumb.“ ”It is.“ ”What's up with Stasis anyway? I barely know what it is.“ Ashen shrugged. She took a moment to down the shot all at once, shaking her head and dropping the cup onto the bed. ”No fuckin' clue. It's cold, it kills our enemies, so who cares!“ ”And why won't it work with me?“ Risk groaned. They held their glass tightly, swirling it around, the liquid spinning the same way their mind did. ”I can control Strand. It's not even that hard.“ One of their hands shot out a thin green needle, string wrapping around the glass Ashen had dropped and pulling it beside them. ”So why won't Stasis work?“ ”I dunno, man.“ Ashen slid down the side of the bed and sat on the ground beside them. ”Shit's weird. Not everyone can control everything that easy. The only bitch who can do all that is this fabled Guardian who's killed literally fucking everybody.” “But not Nezarec!“ Risk raised their glass with a smile, a couple drops of vodka spilling over the edge. ”That was all us baby!“ The two broke out into a laughing fit. Maybe questioning Stasis was better left for the morning.

[dandydelinquent]

»When your freedom is lethal, tell me, how you’re going to hurt yourself?

[nitewrighter]

Idea: Blue String of Hate

"Destiny has brought me here to fucking deck you."

I mean tbh you could flip a lot of soulmate AU's to be "Destined Enemy" AU's.

"On your 16th birthday, a word appears on your wrist. It is the first word your eternal nemesis will say to you."

"If you injure, tattoo, or otherwise mark yourself, your injuries and tattoos will end up on your nemesis's body."

"If you reach the right semi-hypnotic, meditative state, you can ghost-write out the thoughts of your nemesis"

(Cut to someone scrawling 'FUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOU' all over a page with their eyes closed)

[nyx-aira]

Hold me just a little bit longer (part 7)

Summary: After the revelation that Agatha was a witch your relationship changed. You were closer than ever before but will it stay that way?

A/N: I loved writing this chapter, enjoy :)

Tag list: @escapetodreamworld @midnight-lestrange @king-star @ynscrazylife @booklovinbi @mysticfalls01 @adorkwithaplan @nathaslosttheirshit @agathaharkness-simp @paulawand

After the kiss in the basement your whole relationship changed. You could now see the real Agatha, the witch that craved knowledge above everything but most importantly the woman that would sacrifice the world for you.

It was as if you had fallen in love with her over and over again, discovering something new every day. Agatha didn’t hide her magic from you anymore, purple sparks visible almost all the time, wrapping around her hands, dancing through the air.

You were fascinated by her magic, admiring her as she weaved spells so complicated you couldn't even start to comprehend. You knew she was planning something but you honestly didn't care, glad that you had manage to save your relationship, enjoying your life as you explored you girlfriend's true persona.

You were sitting on the couch, watching TV, when you felt Agatha sit down next to you, the pulsing of her magic still making you shiver, but not in a bad way. It felt like it liked you, accepting you, welcoming you.

You leaned into her side, feeling her hands around your waist in an instant, pulling you closer.

"What are we watching love?"

You shrugged with your shoulders. You hadn't been paying attention to the TV for most of the time anyways.

"What's on your mind angel?"

Laughing as she managed to always know what's going on you looked up at her, pressing a short kiss to her cheek.

"You're planning something Agatha."

The witch looked at you with a fond smile, playing with some strands of your hair, twisting it around her fingers.

"You know I always am darling."

You snuggled closed to her side, resting your chin on her shoulder, playing with her hair that cascaded down her shoulders, content in her arms as you sat by her side, glad that she was a part of your life.

Continuing to watch TV the both of you simply enjoyed the others presence, holding each others hands or pressing a short kiss now and then on your girlfriend's lips. You were happy, the presence of the other calming you. Sometime along the seventh episode of the show you were watching you had changed positions, your head now laying in Agatha’s lap, the witch in question massaging your scalp as she just held you close to her.

You felt safe in her arms, as if nothing could harm you there, purple magic gently swaying around you, the now familiar feeling of the dark energy settling on your skin. You welcomed it as it was a part of Agatha, mirroring her soul, dark, twisted, powerful, beautiful, passionate and always craving more.

It was as if you could see into her soul, touched that she trusted you so much to lay her feelings open, letting you in. No walls to keep you out, no secrets as she showed you what she was planning.

You gasped as she showed you Wanda's true potential, how dangerous she could be. The legendary Scarlet Witch. You understood that she had to figure out what's going on before Wanda would crumble completely, she was dangerous, way more than you thought she was.

But this also brought a small smile to your face. Even though Agatha’s approach to the situation was anything but gentle her motivation wasn't pure evil. She wanted Wanda to have what she didn't had, a mentor.

You still felt sick when you remembered what Agatha showed you down in the lair. How her coven, her own mother, had tried to kill her, simply because she had been more powerful, more dangerous. Yes she had broken the rules but they had refused her the tutoring she had needed.

Your girlfriend wasn't a good person, you knew that, she had hurt many people over the centuries but there wasn't just pure evil in her. There was still this spark, this spark young Agatha had had her whole life and that never faded. Her craving for knowledge, to learn new things, to better herself. She was something else that was for sure but you loved her, loved her unconditionally, until death would do you apart. She was your missing piece, your soulmate. Your one and only. Forever.

You looked up when you heard a sob, shifting so you could look at Agatha. When you turned around you locked eyes. She was crying, a happy smile on her face, her magic happily dancing around you. Her magic. She had heard every one of your thoughts, still conected thanks to her spell.

She pulled you up from where you were laying on her lap, hands around your waist as she looked at you with so much love and adoration.

"Did you mean it?"

Her voice was nothing more than a whisper, emotions staining her voice, a look in her eyes that could only be described as complete devotion. Pure love. You started to tear up a bit as well, unbelieving of the love the woman in front of you held for you.

"Every single word."

At this a big smile started to form on her face, tears making her baby blue eyes look like the stormy sea. She caressed your face and pulled you in for a passionate kiss, full of love and emotions.

You eagerly kissed back, never getting enough of the feeling of her lips on yours. She was everything you could imagine and so much more. Feeling what she was feeling thanks to her magic. It was unbelievable, the love she held for you, the pure joy she felt at seeing your face, the peace she felt when you laid in her arms. You had never experienced something like that before, how someone could love so unconditionally. It was overwhelming, beautiful and you couldn't imagine to ever live without her again. When you broke apart you couldn't help but stare at Agatha, you were mesmerised by her beauty, her mind and you just couldn't stop smiling.

"Marry me."

You were caught of guard by her proposal, looking at her in shock. But you caught yourself rather quickly, tears starting to stream down your face as you pulled her in for another kiss, not caring that tears were streaming down your face or that you were sobbing like crazy. You were just so happy.

You smiled as you came down from the high this kiss gave you, looking at Agatha like she was your whole world.

"So that's a yes?"

You wrapped your arms around her neck, pulling her into a bone crushing hug. Overwhelmed with joy and happiness.

"Yes it's always gonna be a yes."

You felt her break out in unbelievable joy, her emotions so intense you could feel them as if they were your own. She was so relieved, relieved that you would choose to spend the rest of your life with her. Forever.

As the credits of the episode rolled neither of the freshly engaged paid the TV any mind, holding each other, kissing, exited for what might come. They didn't care about the obstacles they had to face, about the plan the witch had to complete or the enemies they would make along the way. They had each other and that was enough.

While they were content in the others arms purple magic wrapped around them, bathing the whole room in purple light. A glowing string starting to form, connecting our lovers, binding them to each other. Forever was never precise, it could mean until one would leave this earth or it could mean eternity.

In our case, well let's just say they gave destiny a nudge in the right direction, the dark magic singing to both of them, taking their love and transforming it into something else.

A lovers touch, a myth almost as rare as the Scarlet Witch. When two people were destined for each other, soulmates if you will, sometimes magic would give them something in return. The promise of a life together, their souls merged together, connected for eternity. It was something personal, something intimate and something powerful, powerful and dangerous.

We all knew love could make us stronger, fight for our lover, our other half, do whatever was necessary to protect the one we loved. But what would happen if they weren't just in love, what would happen if they shared a bond, a power that could tear everything apart that threatened to separate them.

As the purple glow faded from the room, only small whisps of purple wrapping around the couple, something started to glow, a coral mist intertwining with the purple sparks.

A lovers touch. A myth that just became reality.

[officialleehadan]

There's a Boy

The battle was unlike anything Teikan had ever seen.

Battle might be somewhat generous actually.

The three warriors moved like nothing human as they whirled around each other. Barely a word passed between them, but they seemed to fill the places at each other’s sides without so much as a glance to see where the other two were.

And yet, the squadron of soldiers fell, their magical blades and spellcasters useless as the three warriors cut through them. The woman, her hair silver to the root and her face lined, raised her hands. The squadron’s magic splashed against it brightly, enough magical firepower to drop a castle wall, spent uselessly on a shield that glimmered almost-black.

Beside her, an archer, his ears faintly pointed, and his hand steady on the string, picked off soldiers with devastating accuracy. His arrows punched through armor like it was paper, and left the enemy mages frantically diving for cover.

Before them stood their swordman, his shield on his arm, and his sword blazing blue with enchantments.

The squadron didn’t stand a chance.

Teikan did his best to help, and tried not to think too hard about how he really wasn’t helping that much at all. All the same, the swordsman saw him and the three warriors pulled him into their group. Teikan found himself half-tucked behind the swordsman’s shield, fending off the few attacks that made it past the mage and the archer.

Before long, the squadron was dead, and the few remaining took a look at the warriors, and Teikan’s unimpressive self, and bolted down the road and out of town.

“Well,” the archer said with a sigh when the last of them were out of sight. “That was more eventful than our usual mornings.”

“Where did all the soldiers come from?” the mage asked. She leaned over and caught the swordsman’s hand, and he pressed a kiss to her cheek fondly. “Oh, who’s this?”

“Uh,” Teikan said intelligently, since these three were obviously heroes of one sort or another. He hadn’t known they were here. He also hadn’t meant to be caught by the soldiers, but it seemed that his morning was somewhat more eventful than usual, too. “Hello. I’m Teikan.”

“You seem to have the attention of someone unpleasant,” the archer noted. To Teikan’s surprise, he copped an enthusiastic feel of the swordsman’s behind on his way passed. The swordsman rolled his eyes and captured the archer in his free arm. “I’m Zaiden. This lug is Bjorn, and our sweet lady mage is Perili.”

“Ignore Zaiden, he has no manners,” Bjorn said. He was a tall man, with dusty brown hair, and a long scar that cut down one side of his face. His smile was a little lopsided where the scar cut through it, but his eyes were kind. “Come on, lad. We’re on our way out of town. You’re welcome to travel with us. Seems like you could use a friend or two.”

“Always adopting strays,” Perili said. Her words were teasing but she left his side to usher Teikan away from the substantial pile of bodies that were beginning to fade into mist. “Oh, constructs. Next time I’ll just dispel them. Should be much faster.”

“Least I didn’t lose too many arrows,” Zaiden commented. He knelt next to one of the constructs. “Peli, do you know this magic? Feels familiar.”

Teikan watched Perili join Zaiden beside the bodies, and looked up at Bjorn, hoping for answers. The swordsman watched his… lovers? partners? examine the bodies with a fond smile and a roll of his eyes.

“We’ve lost them for a bit,” he said in a tone that suggested this was a reasonably common occurrence. “Come on lad. Walk with me. They’ll catch up when they’re done. So, who’s sending squadrons of construct soldiers after you?”

“I may have annoyed the warlord who’s taking over most of the Westfold,” Teikan told him uncomfortably, since ‘annoying’ probably didn’t actually cover ‘stealing from, burning down most of a castle, and falling in love with his son’. It had been a complicated few months. “And uh, I might know where the artifact he needs to uh, take over the world.”

“An interesting morning indeed,” Bjorn said, and whistled to catch the other two’s attention. “Oi, Zid. Remember how you were saying that you were bored and that we should find a new quest?”

The archer looked up, and his smile vanished in favor of a faintly horrified stare. “Oh no.”

“You just had to say it,” Perili muttered, but she pressed a conciliatory kiss to his cheek anyway. “You just had to say you were bored. We’ve warned you.”

“You were bored too!” Zaiden protested with a grumble. His eyes fell on Teikan and the way he winced away from eye contact. “Oh no. Quest?”

“Avoiding a quest,” Teikan muttered defensively. He was a thief, not a hero. He had not agreed to any quests, destinies, or glorious purposes. Unfortunately, the fourth of the deadly quartet, love, had caught him in its teeth. “But there’s a boy.”

“I think you had better tell us everything, from the beginning,” Perili said. She twisted her silver hair up into a knot and jammed a long, glittering pin through the lot to keep it in place. “Start with the warlord.”

+++

More Stories!

+++

[rainydaymiddleearthimagines]

Destiny Calling: Chapter 5

Aragorn didn't know why he was following Boromir, but he was. Course, Boromir had no clue because as he mentioned to Frodo, he could be practically invisible if he wished. He for the most part didn't do anything of an interest to Aragorn. He didn't do anything rude and was in fact, very respectful. He met you briefly, bowing respectfully but you stopped him, saying that you were not someone he had to bow to and wished to be seen as an equal. You said that to most of the people that made an attempt to show some sort of sign of acknowledgement that you were royalty. Aragorn though, noticed his asking of the heirlooms of Isildur. You told him where they were, seeing as when men passed through, they treated the library like a museum of sorts, looking at the remnants of history, collected over the years.

He stuck to the shadows as he watched Boromir. He stared at the broken sword in awe. "The shards of Narsil... the blade that cut the Ring from Sauron's hand." Boromir muttered to himself as he looked at it. He brushed his fingers on the side of the broken blade. "Still sharp.." He whispered. He often wondered to himself if there was anyway he was an heir to Isildur. He knew though that the line had died out... At least that's what he was taught. He had no idea that the other man in the room shared the blood of the man who's sword he was holding. He felt eyes on him, turning to see Aragorn watching him. "But no more than a broken heirloom." He said, setting it back. It slid off, clattering to the ground as he walked off.

Aragorn rose a brow, picking up the hilt from the floor. You walked over, looking at his observant eyes. You could see visible fear in them as he looked at the blade. " You're still afraid of his past, why? You are Isildur's heir...not Isildur himself. You are not bound to his mistake." You said softly, putting your hand on his shoulder. He held the hilt with one hand, his other on top of your hand.  "The same blood flows in my veins...the same weakness..." He muttered, looking at the blade. "Your time will come. You will face the same evil...and you will defeat it. You will not be alone through this either." You said softly. He looked at you and then the blade, still uncertain. "Ni sinte -yes's frightening Aragorn. Mal enyal- sina burden does vamme sér- on your shoulders er. Ni am símen. Always indóme n-. (I know it's frightening Aragorn. But remember this burden does not rest on your shoulders alone. I am here. Always will be.)" You said softly. He looked at you, pressing a kiss to your forehead before setting the hilt down, walking with you.

You held his hand, whispering sweet little things in his ear to make sure he knew he was safe. He felt calmer around you, like he was always walking on air. He loved making you laugh, it was his favorite thing. He loved your smile, your laugh, the way you breathed... By the gods he loved everything about you. He went to bed that night, you in his arms. Elrond by no means approved of you two sleeping in the same room, much less the same bed as you but he knew for a fact that there was no separating you two. Aragorn typically went to sleep, speaking of past adventures to you. Other times he'd fall asleep just saying how his days went. On the nights he couldn't sleep, you'd tell him of your adventures of Mirkwood, how you'd sometimes try to leave, only to end up at the end Thranduil's icy gaze.

The morning sun shone through the window, you leaning up. You looked over to see a dress already laid out. You rolled your eyes, putting it on in silence. You fiddled with the back strings but felt a pair of hands tying it for you. "I see your sister has been in here." Aragorn said. You chuckled. "She does love to dress me like I'm still a child." You muttered, brushing out the red fabric. "At least she is aware that red is a beautiful color on you." He said making you smile. "And you know what colors I look best in?" you asked. "Usually blue makes you look very pale. Red however brings out your eyes. Green though... Green makes you look very regal." He said making you laugh. "And you know this all, how?" you asked, turning to him. "You wore green at your coronation." he said making you smile before you both left.

You took your seat next to your father, sitting up straight. Elrond leaned over. "Are you prepared for what's to come?" He asked. "Have hope father. We will do this." you said. "With you with them? Of course." He said making you smile as everyone sat down. Frodo looked at you, a small amount of anxiety leaving him as he looked at your little wave. "Bring forth the ring, Frodo." Elrond instructed. He nodded, getting up and setting the ring on a stone plinth before sitting back down next to Gandalf. "So it is true!" Boromir gaped. "Sauron's ring of power." Legolas gaped. "The doom of man." A dwarf said. "It is a gift...a gift to the foes of Mordor! Why not use this Ring? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, held the forces of Mordor at bay...by the blood of our people are your lands kept safe. Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy...let us use it against him!" Boromir exclaimed.

You and Aragorn exchanged a look.  You already had a feeling you knew how Boromir meets his fate. "This something a lot more powerful than any man can handle." you said. "What would you know of this?" He asked making Legolas grit his teeth and Aragorn resist snapping.  you said nothing, looking at him with annoyance. If you opened your mouth, you knew your wit would be too quick for your father to stop and you'd say something distasteful. "She is right. You cannot wield it. None of us can. The one ring answers to Sauron alone...it has no other master." Aragorn said calmly, though still clearly annoyed. "And what would a ranger know of this matter?" Boromir asked.

"This is no mere Ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance." Legolas snapped. You facepalmed and Frodo looked at Aragorn confused. "Aragorn... This is Isildur's heir?" Boromir asked. "And heir to Gondor." Legolas added. "Havo dad, Legolas...Sit down, Legolas.." Aragorn said. Legolas sighed, sitting back down. Boromir locked onto Aragorn. "Gondor needs no king." He muttered. "Aragorn and Y/n are right...we cannot use it." Gandalf said. "You have only one choice." Elrond said. "The Ring must be destroyed." You said, staring at the golden ring. You could feel the negative energy practically radiate off of it. "What are we waiting for?" The dwarf asked, approaching the pedestal with his axe drawn. You saw him gear up to attack.

"Wait-" But it was too late in trying to warn him. His axe broke on impact, knocking him to the ground. You noticed Frodo wince, raising  brow but getting up to assist the dwarf in standing. He waved you off and you noticed him grimace. "The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloin by any craft that we here possess. The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came." Elrond said. "One of you must do this." You said. "One does not simply walk into Mordor. Its black gates are guarded by more than just orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep. And the great Eye is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland. Riddled with fire and ash and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly!" Boromir said as you sat back down. "If it was done once, it can be done again." you said. "Have you heard nothing I have said!?" Boromir asked. "Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said? The Ring must be destroyed!" Legolas asked. "And I suppose you think you're the one to do it?!" Gimli asked. You sighed. "We've made no such claim, neither has Legolas." You halted. "And if we fail, what then?! What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?!" Boromir asked.  "I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an elf!" Gimli shouted.

You sighed. "Gimli your hatred for my people is understandable, but do not think of what is best for you but for the rest of the world." you said. "Understandable? Y/n do you hear yourself—" "Father, do not begin with me. You know my opinion." you halted. Gimli rose a brow, never hearing talk of an elf actually agreeing with him. "This is ridiculous, who is taking the ring!?" Boromir asked, the group dissolving into arguing. "Do you not understand that while we bicker amongst ourselves, Sauron's power grows?! None can escape it" Gandalf yelled. You sat in your seat, head in your hand as you looked at it. The group only argued more and more before you heard something.

"I will take it." Frodo said. You looked up, astonished at the young hobbit's choice. "I will take it!" He repeated so the rest could hear. Everyone looked at him with wide eyes. "I will take the Ring to Mordor. Though-- I do not know the way." He said. Gandalf seemed disappointed with this. Not by Frodo's choice but by the fact that this is what it had come to. A poor hobbit who's most likely had to uproot his whole life for this quest to Rivendell and now he had agreed to take it even further. "I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, so long as it is yours to bear." Gandalf said, putting his hand on Frodo's shoulder. "You have chosen a very dangerous task Mister Baggins. But I will assist you with this." you said, standing up. Boromir was shocked that a woman would even want part in this at all, much less volunteering for battle. You kneeled to Frodo. "You have my blades." you said. "If by my life or death, I can protect you, I will" Aragorn said, clearly speaking to Frodo but looking at you before he too, kneeled. "You have my sword." He said, now looking at Frodo. "And you have my bow." Legolas said, standing near you. "And my axe!" Gimli chimed in. "You carry the fates of us all little one. If this is indeed the will of the council, then Gondor will see it done." Boromir said.

You heard a rustle before Sam darted out from the bushed, making you smile. "Mr. Frodo is not goin’ anywhere without me!" He said. "No indeed, it is hardly possible to separate you even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not." Elrond said, clearly amused by the actions of Sam. You heard more footsteps. "Wait! We are coming too!" Merry and Pippin shouted. You exchanged a smile with Aragorn. "You'd have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us!" Merry said. "Anyway you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission, quest... thing." Pippin said. "That rules you out Pip." Merry muttered making you bite back a snort. "Ten companions... So be it! You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring!" Elrond announced. "Great! Where are we going?" Pippin asked making Aragorn finally crack a laugh. You chuckled, looking across at your lover with a smile. Boromir rose a brow, noticing the exchange.

You packed that night, feeling relief when you wore your armor rather than your dress. Dinner was spent with talks of roads until your brothers arrived. "Who might you be?" Pippin asked. "Pippin, those are my brothers" You said with a smile. "Elladan." you introduced as he sat next to you. "Elrohir." you introduced as he sat down on your other side. "How many siblings do you have?" Merry asked. "Just three." you answered. Arwen sipped on her drink. "I must say... It is rather peculiar for you to wish to join us on the journey." Boromir said. "Not if you know Y/n." Elladan said. "What are you like?" Boromir asked. "Curious." you said. "...Insane." "reckless" "hyperactive." Your siblings chimed in. "I'd say more... Spirited." Legolas said. " You know her personally?" Frodo asked. "My father helped raise her." He said. "I'd say she's a valuable asset." Aragorn said. "Thank you!" You huffed. "Well we all know why you think that." Elrohir teased. Aragorn hid his smile by taking a drink as you flushed pink with embarrassment. "How is she a valuable asset?" Sam asked. "She has an ability to speak with nature." Aragorn answered. "I thought all elves had that ability." Boromir said confused. "Yes, we do. But it is usually very hard to hear without focus. It sounds like whispers. Y/n can hear them without trying and she can actually make it respond." Arwen answered. "I see." Boromir muttered. "It comes from her lack of immortality." Legolas said. Everyone else looked up. "You're not immortal?" Merry asked. "No." you shook your head. "I thought all elves were." Pippin said. "We can choose not to be." You said. "Why did you choose not to be?" Frodo asked. "Which reason would you like to hear?" you asked. "Any of them?" Frodo said confused. "...I felt it to be an unfair advantage for those who were not blessed with long lives." You said. "What was the other reason Miss Y/n?" Sam asked. You looked over at Aragorn and smiled. "I wish to spend one lifetime with the one that makes me content than to spend thousands walking this plain alone." You answered.

All the hobbits noticed the look that Aragorn and you exchanged. It was confirmed to everyone at the table that you and Aragorn were definitely in some sort of relationship. Gimli however was pretty much the only person at the table who had no idea to the relationship. Aragorn smiled, looking at his glass. Arwen fidgeted with her necklace in thought. "Uh... Miss..." "Arwen." She reminded Sam. "Right. Miss Arwen, what is that necklace?" He asked. "The Evenstar necklace is like a symbol to our family name." She said. "My sister wears one as well." She added, you showing it. "We have crests on our armor." Elladan said. The group seemed interested in mostly you. Not much was known about you due to your awkward start of the journey. You revealed some interesting facts to them, telling them of your abilities of foresight but keeping Boromir's death secret. The fact though they fixated on was your ringwraith visions. "You knew they were coming?" Frodo asked. "Normally I can feel them." you admitted. "What does it feel like?" Pippin asked. You pondered, a grave look coming over you. "Dread...Darkness. I... can usually smell blood too." you muttered. Aragorn frowned. He knew your visions were a burden to you. Sometimes if you spoke on a subject long enough you'd basically force yourself into having another vision. He sat there, observing your eyes as they closed.

You leaned forward, Arwen stopping your body from hitting the table. Sam rose and Aragorn got up, walking over and kneeling next to you. You opened your eyes. "Are tye alright mime mel (are you alright my love)?" He asked. You nodded slowly. Arwen handed you a glass of water. "Frodo, I'm sorry that is what you have to bare." You muttered. Frodo rose a brow. "What do you mean?" He asked. "I've seen the visions you've had." You muttered. He blinked. "You have?" He asked. "The voices... The eye... Fires..." You shook your head and put your hand to your head. "Perhaps you should lie down." He said. You shook your head. "I'm alright. I swear." You said. Elladan stood up. "I'll switch seats so you can ensure she'll be fine. " He said. You said nothing, feeling a slight headache as you heard a low hum from the ring. You looked at it, Elrohir noticing your tired eyes before Aragorn held your hand, instantly breaking the focus. Relief hit you and you cleared your throat. "My apologies. My visions can... Bombard me. Sometimes." You said softly. "it's alright your high—" "Please don't use formalities with me. I'm not above any of you. You are all my equals." You halted Sam. Pippin smiled and he nodded. "You seem like you'd make a good ruler." Pippin said. Boromir rose a brow to this comment. "I agree." Arwen said. "You do?" You asked. "We all believe this." Elladan said. "Why?" Boromir asked. "Our sister has always put our people over herself. She's also a brilliant strategist." Elrohir said. You smirked. "You say that because you're the one who trained me." You laughed. He smiled but shook his head. "You're also a good fighter." Elladan said. "Again. You two trained me." You said. "You lack a lot of the etiquette." Arwen muttered making you sigh. "Maybe if your courses weren't so annoying I might've made it a point to listen!" You said gritting your teeth. "I would say she handled herself well at the meeting." Boromir said. "See! Royalty thinks that I did fine!" You said. "I don't care what anyone else thinks, you still haven't even officially passed the dinner etiquette course!" Arwen sighed.

"Who on this earthly plain needs six different forks!?" You asked. Aragorn snorted and Arwen groaned. "It is the proper thing to know!" She said.  "It is a pointless thing to know." You huffed. She sighed. "She is, outside of etiquette, a woman who is very skilled and intelligent." Arwen finally said. You looked over at her, raising a brow. "Thank you." you said. "Course, she also has made a habit of falling out of trees." Arwen added. "HEY!"

Everyone soon retired to their rooms. Boromir stood on his balcony looking at the valley. He couldn't help but feel out of place next to you and Aragorn. Yes, you technically were his equal. But with the way Isildur's heir looked at you, the way everyone spoke of visions of the future, seeing you on a throne... Boromir knew in his heart that you were destined to be queen of Gondor. He knew that Aragorn would be king one day. One question lingered in his mind, echoing its anxious call.

The question was: were you two going to prove that you were ready for this?

[carnistcervine]

Water-Fire Reversal AU

...But then, everything changed when the Water Tribes attacked.

Here's the proper headcanons/outline/AU thing for my own interpretation of Water-Fire reversal AU.

Based on my post here.

-The Water Tribes becomes the perpetrators of the 100 years war, and the Fire Nation becomes the one stripped away and decimated.

-God forgot to nerf the Southern Water Tribe and they joined forces with the North during Kyoshi's time.

-Kyoshi is too busy chillin on her island to bother with them, so they become dangerously powerful by the time Roku rolls around.

-The Fire Nation still goes through with it's industrialization, because, come on it's a volcanic island chain. There's lots and lots of heat, and fossil fuels, and metal ore. They wouldn't not have an industrial revolution.

-The only difference here is that Sozin actually heeds Roku's advice and decides to listen to the Avatar. He accepts that the world needs to remain four nations, and decides to help him uphold the balance.

-Their friendship grows strong once again.

-So when colonies appear in the Earth Kingdom, it's the South colonizing Kyoshi island.

-Roku is like, OH HELL NO- D:<

-He goes to confront the Southern Chief, and she's all, bitch I do what I want.

-But Roku has had time to calm his tits on the ride over so, he tries to be rational and restrained about it.

-So he be like, "Leave Kyoshi alone, or I will string you up by your nipples"(or something like that. :'D)

-Also, uh, Kyoshi may or may not be part of why Roku is so mad. I mean he is her direct successor.

-The uh, the Water Tribes didn't like that.

-At all, lmao.

-They get into a fight, he kills the chief, which only further serves to turn the Water Tribes against him. And makes their chief a martyr. Strengthening her cause.

-However, at the time they see Roku as acting as Avatar, so they leave the Fire Nation be. Their beef is with him.

-The Avatar is at war with the Water Tribes for several years, resulting is heavy destruction for both tribes, and leaving Roku exhausted.

-Rather than see their Tribes destroyed, they decide to temporarily back off, lick their wounds, recuperate, and make a plan to strike back against Roku.

-Tired, Roku retires to his volcano home and settles down with his family.

-Now, volcanoes do not erupt with no warning whatsoever. Roku and the inhabitants of his island simply misjudged when it would blow it's top.

-However, it did not escape the Water Tribe's notice that the volcano was growing increasingly unstable.

-They primed themselves to strike as it grew increasingly violent.

-When the volcano blew it's top Roku was dealing with both an angry volcano, and angry waterbenders using their combined power to summon tsunamis.

-Roku had to stop the volcano and protect the people trying to flee at the same time.

-He put more into protecting the people, as they had nothing to do with it and didn't deserve to be dragged into his conflict.

-Sozin, seeing Roku's island blowing it's top, came in on his dragon and offered his help.

-Sozin works to get the people to safety while Roku battles the volcano and waterbenders.

-Roku is overwhelmed and both he and his dragon are slain in battle.

-Sozin sees the attack as a declaration of War.

-The Air Nomads are not wiped out.

-Not because the Water Tribes are nice or anything. No, in this AU, they are just as bad as canon Fire Nation.

-The Air Nomads are still around because there is no water equivalent to Sozin's comet. And where the Air Nomads live, ridiculously high above sea-level, protects them from the Water Tribes.

-Sozin begs the Air Nomads for help, but they refuse to partake in the war. Even to the point of hiding Aang from the world.

-In this AU, the Air Nomads serve a role similar to the canon North and Ba Sing Se. Where they put up their defenses and sit idly by as the rest of the world drowns.

-The Water Tribes decimate and wash away many coastal communities, only sparing the ones that bow down to them and allow themselves to be colonized.

-Ba Sing Se and Omashu are safe, because they are far away from major sources of water. Ba Sing Se is mostly surrounded by desert and the only water way is protected by sea serpents(plural).

-And also that goddamn wall.

-Kyoshi Island had the Unagi, but... it was killed. :'D

-The South had a feast that night. lmao

-Sozin plans on putting an end to the war using Sozin's Comet(called Agni's Comet or the Great Comet).

-But uh, there's an eclipse.

-It becomes known as the Darkest Day in Fire Nation history.

-The Fire Nation royal family make it out okay, but to say the country as a whole was decimated is an understatement.

-This becomes the catalyst to the war, with the Earth Kingdom being moved to join forces with the Fire Nation to fight back against the Water Tribes.

-The Earth Kingdoms and Fire Nation have some leverage with their metal ships, but the Water Tribes have the advantage of literally being able to use the battle field as a weapon.

-Learning from the Darkest Day, the Fire Nation(with the help of the Earth Kingdom) builds a wall around it's inner cities.

-They make a recovery, but the outermost communities(ie. the fishing villages) are pillaged and ravaged constantly by the Water Tribes.

-Of course, there was a short occupation of the Fire Nation by the Water Tribes as a result of the Darkest Day, but well, let's just say Agni's Comet fixed that. :^D

-As for Aang, he still goes out and explores the world, but only under the strict guidance of the other monks.

-They are careful to hide the war from him, and him from the war.

-However they cannot hide him from his destiny forever, and as the monks grow increasingly worried over the world's state of affairs, they decide to hide him away completely.

-Very, intimately aware of the fact that Water is next in the cycle, and they likely won't hesitate to kill the poor child to get their own Avatar to corrupt to their terrible ways.

-Aang doesn't take very well to be smothered and runs away.

-Unfortunately he ends up in the middle of a battlefield with fireballs, waves and ice going every which way.

-The stress of nearly being killed triggers the Avatar state and he freezes the battle with himself in stasis in the center.

-The other soldiers either escape or die in the icy tomb. :)

-Without Sozin and Azulon perpetuating a cycle of abuse, Ozai, Zuko, and Azula all turn out as much better people.

-On the other side, the familial bonds of the water tribe take a much darker tone. Anyone not within the tribe/the family doesn't matter. The Tribe is all that matters, all others are the enemy. They become colder, much more insular. While they care for one another, they become rigid as ice, family and tradition being valued above all else.

-Also, waterbending lost touch with it's roots, becoming dark and perverted. A way to sway others to your own way, rather than flowing with the natural push and pull of the world, it became the water tribe pushing against all and pulling in what they please.

-This is borrowing from another AU of mine(*eyebrow dance*), healing is perverted into a technique that brainwashes people. Think of Katara healing Jet's mind from the brainwashing, but in reverse. :^)

-Kanna and Pakku are betrothed, while Pakku is willing to let things like only teaching women to heal, and arranged marriages slide, finds actual, genuine brainwashing to be genuinely disturbing. But tries his best to ignore it. It's just how things are, he tells himself.

-When Hama developed her bloodbending technique and shows it off to the North.

-She proposes it as a way to get the filthy ashmakers and dirtstompers to submit to the mind melting.

-When they try to get Pakku to learn/teach his students bloodbending, he breaks. He can't take it anymore and deserts.

-He becomes the first to desert the Water Tribe navy.

-Kanna feeling the bite of shame, agrees to marry someone from the South instead.

-But also, daytime bloodbender Yue.

-When Katara turns fourteen, she is deemed a master waterbender and given the rights to begin higher level training and learn the secrets of the Water Tribes.

-She learns of bloodbending, and mind manipulation.

-Having fully bought into Water Tribe propaganda her whole life, she cannot believe this. Horrified, she speaks out directly calling Hama disgusting and wicked for inventing such a technique.

-She rightfully calls out her tribes elders for using these techniques on innocent people.

-Oh, boi, but calling out the elders amounts to treason.

-Because she called out her elders, she had dishonored her ancestors and as such had to best Hama in one-on-one combat to avoid being exiled.

-And uhhh, she lost her fuckin eye instead.

-Disillusioned from loosing his father to the war, Sokka joins Katara in her exile.

-Seeing as Kya is the chief of the South, she gives an in for Katara to return back to the tribe's good graces. A way to prove herself. She must find the Avatar and bring him to the Water Tribes.

-Sokka having grown disillusioned, sees it as a way for him and his sister to finally get away from the darkness infesting their home.

-They spend two years at sea looking for the legendary Avatar who vanished for 100 years.

-Also Katara wears an eyepatch and 100% looks like a motherfucking pirate.

-And Zuko, sixteen year old, grumpy but well meaning and kind-hearted Zuko, fears deeply for his people.

-Unfortunately, he feels like his nation isn't doing nearly enough to protect the people living outside the walls.

-Ozai warns young Zuko multiple times that his is not permitted outside the walls. "That place is no place for royalty." He would say.

-"Come back to your gilded cage" He would mean.

-It's only inevitable that Zuko sneaks out and invents the person of the Blue Spirit to help the poor folk living outside the walls.

-His uncle catches him, but doesn't tell. Instead he watches over him, he knows that he can't stop Zuko from trying to save his own people.

-Unfortunately things go tits up when there is an attack in the middle of Zuko helping the people.

-Zuko is captured, and taken away, but Iroh manages to sneak on as well.

-Together they escape, but by that point that are far, far away from the Fire Nation.

-While slowly rowing their little dingy back, they come across a certain frozen battlefield sitting in the middle of the ocean...

-And as fate would have it, a certain, hot-headed, one-eyed waterbender and her "slacker" brother happen to be sailing nearby when Aang is freed.

-Aang has no idea that he's the Avatar, but he also doesn't feel like going back home. He wants to know why the people are fighting.

-He wants to understand why they hate each other so much. :(

-Iroh picks up that Aang is the Avatar right away though.

-He subtly tries to pry Aang about how much he knows of this or his destiny.

-And Aang knows nothing, the monks never got the chance to tell him because he ran away.

-Iroh thinks of a way to gently break the news to Aang, and tactfully handle his need to be trained so he can put an end to this war once and for all.

-Hopefully before Agni's Comet, because Iroh knows that even though his brother isn't a wicked man, he will do what is necessary to put an end to this.

-You see, the Fire Nation has begun to withdraw, it's mostly biding it's time for the Comet's return so that they can put an end to this struggle once and for all.

-Ozai doesn't want to destroy the Water Tribes, but watching his father drown, his nephew slaughtered, and his own brother crippled and forced into retirement has brought him to some very dark conclusions.

-Iroh advocates strongly against using the comet for war, but Ozai has made it clear if the war does not end before the comet appears... He will do what he deems to be necessary.

-That being said, finding out that his son and brother had been taken by the Water Tribes throws him into a rage.

-And yeah, loosing Lu Ten and Azulon, broke Iroh. Along with being physically injured himself. So he gave up the throne to Ozai, feeling that there was nothing he could do for his country.

-With the Avatar, now found, Iroh decides to indulge his nephew's desire to travel and help in the war effort.

-Because, well, Iroh is terrified that Ozai will use Aang to take down the Water Tribe violently.

-An unfortunate consequence of this is that for a while, Ozai thinks that Zuko and Iroh are dead!

-And Ozai is the opposite of able to cope with this. lmao

-I haven't decided when Aang should realize that he's the Avatar, but it's def gonna be due to him loosing control and lashing out in the avatar state.

-Iroh ends up being the one to calm Aang down when he goes Avatar-Rage-Mode.

-Because Iroh is big soft man, and basically Aang and Zuko's dad.

-It's too soft to for me to resist okay?? :D

-I'm also not entirely sure when to place this on the timeline, but I am highly considering having Ozai find out that Zuko and Iroh are alive at the end of Book 1, so that it can mirror canon a bit. Because as soon as he finds out they're alive he sends his stronk ass, prodigy daughter Azula to go fetch the two and bring them back home safely.

-But also go get the Avatar, so he can be properly trained in firebending.

-Yes, Azula is good in this fic. But she's still not nice. She's very pragmatic and stoic. She does genuinely care about her brother and Uncle, but she considers the safety of the world and the Fire Nation to be more important than their feelings.

-She's cold and detached, but would do anything to protect the Fire Nation, her family or help the world as a whole.

-Azula is also occasionally playful, teasing Zuko and calling him Zuzu or dum-dum.

-Once she's pulled into the story, she kinda serves as a rival to Zuko. Constantly trying to drag the Gaang home to the Fire Nation, so the Avatar can be taught by proper instructors.

-And Ozai is not a bad dude, but he's STRESSED. And seen some very unfortunate things. Let's just say, the war is not putting him a great headspace.

-Like he isn't abusive like Canon!Ozai, but his desperation to save his country and put an end to the war is driving him to do some questionable things. Like considering using Agni's Comet.

-The people of the Foggy Swamp are still good and left in tune with the true nature of water. So when time comes around to Katara to have her heel-face turn, ya already know who she gon go to.

-Also, they sups spiritual, so yeh.

-I am also considering having the Foggy Swamp be the final point of Katara's redemption arc, like her final realization of what he destiny really entails and what she must do.

-But I do want the first step to be Sokka getting injured while protecting her.

-Like she can't believe this, she's about to loose the last piece of her family, and in a desperate move, she rediscovers the lost art of true healing. Saving Sokka's life.

-I’m also considering having Katara join the Gaang at the end of book two.

...

-Sparkle Sparkle Moon Girl.