#leaving this here so it doesn’t die in my drafts

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mission Control 10

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You still don’t know what to call the man. Captain? Rogers? He’s just the man to you. The stranger who doesn’t speak. 

He doesn’t linger. You can’t help but wonder if it’s some game. If he’s playing with you. His stoicism is just another weapon against you. As he leaves, you sit, stunned and lost. Alone. 

The front door of the cabin shuts you in but you don’t know that you would have the courage to let yourself out. The man found you once; unbidden and unexpected, you’re certain he could do it again and again and again. So, you wait until you’re certain the house is empty before you get up. 

You fix the nightgown and hug yourself as you peek through the open bedroom door. You emerge warily and glance through to the bathroom. The front room once jars you further. You forgot how cozy, how normal it seams. 

You wander around the frayed rug and inspect every piece of furniture. A draft runs through the room, blowing in around the door. There’s an iron basket of split logs next to the fireplace. There’s something yellow on top.

You go over and open the packet; inside, a lighter and a little booklet on how to start a fire. Hm. There’s a bag of kindling next to the wood as well. Maybe later. 

You set the packet back down and turn to face the other doorway. The one you’ve not yet ventured through. The kitchen is small but tidy. On the table, there’s a small crate. Within, sorted neatly, are similar silver packets to the one he handed you in the bedroom. They are labeled alongside a large bag of quick oats. 

The oats simply read, ‘Breakfast’. The writing is jagged but legible. Each packet is labeled decisively; Day 1 – Dinner, Day 2 – Lunch... On and on. You turn and face the fridge. The only thing on it is another note. ‘Drink Water. Not Tap.’ Got it. After the complete absence of communication, it’s nice to have at least a little directive. 

You retreat to the bedroom and check the empty packet. Yep, Day 1 – Lunch. Amid the chaos of your abduction and the desolation of this place, the pieces of order stick out sorely. It all feels so fractured. 

You go to the armoir and try to open it. The doors don’t budge. You back up and cross your arms again. You’re really starting to get cold. You should get the fire going before your fingers go completely numb. 

You strip the flannel blanket from the bed and wrap it around your shoulders. You go back into the living room and hep the extra layer at your waist as you sit on your knees and try to figure out the fireplace. After several splinters and some sparks from the lighter, you get a flame struck. 

You stay close and hold up your hands as it begins to lick. You settle down on your butt and hug yourself under the blanket. You watch the flames swirl and your vision blurs with little orbs of colour.  

The questions don’t matter. The answers won’t make a difference. Why are you here? Where is here? No, it’s useless. Just like from the first moment you saw him. You know now, it wasn’t the first time he saw you. 

You hang your head and let it pour out of you. The fear throttles you so you’re choking on your sobs. Your body wracks and your skull throbs. You don’t want to live like this but you’re too afraid to die. 

You wade up from the dregs of your grief and the room comes clear again. You’re on your side before the glowing embers. You sit up and put another piece of wood on the pile then get up. You stagger around to the bedroom, your feet moving without your mind’s intent. 

You go to the corner. You stare at the shelf. The pictures, the stolen parts of your existence, the shank of hair... is gone? You saw him put it there. Oh well. Good riddance. 

You shudder and squint over the images. There’s one from over a year ago. The last time you saw your family. You shake your head and back up. No. No. You didn’t know for that long. Well, how could you expect something like this? 

You sniffle and leave the room. You can’t stay in there. Not with that shrine? Altar? You don’t even know what. 

You take a stiff pillow from the couch and lower yourself in front of the fireplace again. You close your eyes but you don’t know if you’ll be able to sleep. There isn’t much else to do. 

Time skews into a haze. It’s dark, then light, and dark again. Your stomach gurgles but by the time you get the food warm, you’re too sick to eat more than a few bites. As the days wilt by, a stench roils from your body. 

The packets help you track the day, even as you miss some, you try to keep some order in your mind. On Day Four, you dare to try the faucet. The tub pours out steaming water. You adjust it before you sink in. It’s as close to peace as you’ve found. 

As the water stagnates around your body, you can’t help but think. When will he come back? Will he be back? You don’t think he’s out there having fun and frolicking. You could tell by his attire, by the marks of death on that shield. 

You let the water go cold then drain it. You pull the same nightgown on, even as it reeks. You just need something on. You reclaim the blanket and your perch before the fireplace. You wish you had something warm to drink. Coffee or tea. Nothing could ever make this place anything less than a prison, but you wouldn’t mind some comfort. 

[90sbee]

Sometimes a saviour is a soldier afraid of peace

Levi Ackerman x Fem!Reader

4.4k words. Also on ao3.

He looks at her in quiet admiration.

He doesn’t deserve her. But again, he doesn’t really deserve anything. He already has gotten too much: spoiled by the sweet possibility of life when all his comrades have fallen, their bodies twisted, mangled by titans and enemies alike.

Levi hardly cries, but he wants to cry in that moment. She turns on the stove for him, and rummages through his cabinets. She finds two cups and a sob is trapped inside his throat.

He doesn’t fucking understand why she stays, why she puts up with his sorry ass but, damn it. Damn it if he at least doesn’t try.

The war is over, but the demons still haunt Levi. Luckily for him, the last member of his Squad seems focused on remaining by his side as they both face this new enemy: peace.

This was !!! My first fic written in English, actually. Also my first (and only time so far) writing for aot. Levi is such an angsty angel, and this story wouldn’t leave my head, so I had to end up writing it, ofc. This has been in the drafts for... months. Too many months already. And tbh I'm not a fan of how it came out. But. Posting it in case someone else can enjoy Levi finally getting some love and comfort, sjsjs.

Content: Use of 3rd person pronouns. No use of y/n. Mostly Levi's pov. Reader was part of his Squad. Post!Rumbling Levi. Written with the manga ending in mind. A lot of fluff, rude Levi even if he doesn't mean it (but reader knows he means no harm). Healing. Spooning (Levi as the little spoon btw. He deserves it).

Warnings: depressive thoughts, self confidence issues. Mentions of past violence (but nothing gruesome, it's all in passing). SFW. No beta reader we die like everybody in Aot here.

They always meet. Every single day, she leaves her little flat to find him near the fountain in the Marleyan park, eager to push his wheelchair and pass some time with him.

Levi doesn’t understand. When Onyankopon, or Falco, or Gabi let her take the wheelchair, he just ponders. He could understand why they would accompany him: because he is old? because they feel pity of him?… But her?

Nonetheless, every single afternoon, she comes to him. He doesn’t recall when this custom began. It’s like slowly, but surely, she started digging a place into his routine. She was part of his remaining squad, and he really didn’t see any point to her bubbling-self still being by his side.

Still, he appreciates her visits. She exchanges pleasantries with Gabi, already smiling. Why is she smiling?

“Hi, Captain,” she says. Should he feel mocked? He isn’t a captain anymore and the title feels too much, even if it’s comforting in some way. Levi doesn’t reply. He just nods, silently acknowledging her presence. “Is it okay if we go to the stalls for a while, Captain?” She inquires, as if it was the first time they did it, and not a weekly occurrence. His jaw tenses. He doesn’t understand, still. She surely pities him. She has to.

He agrees to her proposal, though.

“Sure,” he replies, barely any emotion on his face.

She smiles at him. For a moment, they look at each other. She sees that familiar scarred face, a grey eye gazing into her soul. He sees the older face of her remaining squad member, some wrinkles next to her eyes, her figure dressed in green. For some reason, he liked that colour on her.

He doesn’t share that with her, though.

“Let’s get going,” she adds, a little chuckle in her voice — he can hear it — as she starts pushing the wheelchair. They check out the little shops that are already so familiar. Sometimes she signals a piece of jewellery or clothes. She asks for his opinion, or points at a silly artwork, in hopes of making him laugh.

When the cold starts to set in, she stops them in front of a coffee shop.

“Wait here a second, Captain,” she tells him.

“Where would I go, anyway?” He wants to say, snarky, but he doesn’t really bother in opening his mouth. He stays silent still, perking his head up to see what’s she’s doing.

“Oi. coffee?” He complains.

She directs her gaze to him and chuckles, paying the vendor.

“I know you like tea but it’s time to broaden your horizons,” she explains. She comes up to him again, and hands him one of the cups. He sighs, but accepts the drink still.

“What is it this time?”

“Just chocolate. Hot chocolate,” she answers, already sipping hers.  She lets out a content sigh when the warmth of it starts to fill her belly.

“I don’t like chocolate,” Levi mutters under his breath. He is lying and she knows it.

“Tsk. That’s not true. Everybody likes chocolate.”

“… Fine,” he sips his drink and, admittedly, enjoys it. She hands him her drink so she can push the wheelchair again, and he takes it, guarding both cups on his lap, a familiar action for the two of them now.

“Where do we go?” She asks.

Levi shrugs. “As if I had a choice.”

She looks at him still, and when he can see her, barely from his peripheral vision, he sees a softer face. She’s waiting for his reply. He looks at her, looks at her lips. She isn’t smiling anymore. Levi sighs, suddenly feeling guilty.

He doesn’t understand still why she does this for him.

“Captain?” She says, just above a whisper, since there are people around them and they both just want to have a calm evening, without the risk of being recognised.

Levi nods before he even opens his mouth.

“The bridge.”

“Good,” she agrees as he sips from his drink again, guided by her. He does feel warmer. Levi inspects the people around him in silence, letting himself be carried, taken to a nicer place. “Hange would have like this,” he thinks. He looks down to suddenly realise he is clenching his fist, hard. “If you could even call it a hand…”

“We’re here, Captain,” she announces, letting his wheelchair rest next to a bench, overlooking the water. She takes a seat next to him, and Levi hands her the drink. He wonders if she noticed how tense he’s been feeling today.

“Be quick with that, brat, or it will get cold,” he warns, as if to pre-emptively shut down any words from her. He’s not sure he could handle it.

She just nods.

“It’s still warm,” she mentions after a moment.

The sunset is taking its place on the sky, a beautiful palette of oranges and pinks against a very flat horizon. A reminder of what was once lost.

“Good,” he says.

Levi looks at her. She is still looking forward, features illuminated by the falling sun, breeze caressing her face. There is something in his heart that aches, but he doesn’t want to think about that. He doesn’t dare to. Levi is old, too old, and too broken. And she only pities him.

He coughs to catch her attention, though.

“Hmh, yeah?” She immediately says.

“I heard the Scouts were going back to Paradis tomorrow,” he begins, the question lingering in the air. The small group was leaving first time in the morning.

“Yep.”

Levi blinks, expecting her to say more, but she doesn’t. He doesn’t want to ask. It feels… too much. He feels too exposed doing that, lower lip trembling.

“Are you going?” He finally dares to ask.

She turns back to him again, and looks at him with the sweetest gaze. Levi doesn’t miss how she looks at his lips first.

“I’m not.”

“Why?”

“I don’t have anything there,” she replies, matter-of-factly. Levi wants to hit his head against something, still uncertain about what that means. Does that mean that she has something here? Someone?

She must notice his doubts, so she lowers her gaze. “I mean. You know I lost my family during my first years as a Scout. And knowing that we tried to stop Eren… All the military forces in the island won’t be very happy to see me. Or any of us. I’ve done my part. I do not want more fighting.”

“… Right”. That still doesn’t answer his question, but it is enough to satisfy his curiosity without seeming to eager. He sips his drink again: it’s getting colder.

“You didn’t want to go, Captain?” There it was again, that fucking title that felt like a joke. He chuckles, not looking at her anymore but rather at the sunset.

“Why do you still call me like that?” He spits back.

“Captain?”

“Yeah,” His tone is unintentionally rude, but he can’t help it, not even around her.

“Well… It’s a sign of respect, don’t you think?”

Levi chuckles, amused.

“I never took you for a polite person.” He doesn’t want to look at her still. She hasn’t added anything, said anything else. What is she thinking of?

She looks at him. There’s a warmth in her belly which has nothing to do with the chocolate anymore. She knows: Her Captain has been way more vulnerable and open since the Rumbling. The little gestures that he could so easily hide before are now an open book. Or at least she feels that way, since she was always one to look at him.

It was so easy to just… stare at him. Admire him in every sense of the word, even now. When they were both soldiers they would fight alongside each other, against innumerable dangers. He was barely visible in the spectrum: always so fast, always so precise. A ray of dark hair and strong limbs, destroying everything to provide peace, to provide protection.

There was no point in denying how she felt about him… Except, maybe, to him.

“I don’t think I would like going back to Paradis,” she finally adds, finishing her drink. He seems to reflect on that idea for a moment, before nodding. He wants to ask why but he doesn’t dare to. “I’m just… comfortable here,” she finishes with a sigh. “This is okay.”

“That’s good,” he says, barely a spark of enthusiasm in his voice, but enough for her to notice.

She looks up at him again. And he feels tiny and scared suddenly, because she looks at him with wonder and care. Levi doesn’t mean to, but he ends up letting his drink fall from his hands, whether due to his nervousness or the state of his hand after the war.

“Shit,” he spits, upset.

“Sh, it’s alright, Captain.” In a second she is picking up the cup, handing him a handkerchief to dry his hands. She walks a few steps to throw both cups into a trashcan and is again, by his side. Such a quick interaction so as to ease his shame, he could notice it. “Are you alright?”

Levi still doesn’t know. He doesn’t know why she still treats him with such respect, why she seems to care so much for him. But he wants to find out, somehow. He barely nods, but she notices it.

“Good,” she says, while taking the handkerchief back. She is about to put it into her bag again when she feels a hand grabbing hers.

Levi.

He doesn’t even say anything. He doesn’t know how. She seems to understand, though, squeezing his hand, softly. Levi quickly lets her hand go, his cheeks going red. She gets behind the wheelchair again, as the sun is about to disappear, and Levi can hear her chuckling.

“Let’s get you home, Captain.”

He stays quiet, unsure if he could even say something useful.

There’s so much he doesn’t know how to say. How to do.

While she is pushing his chair he notices it again. A slight tremor in her right hand. “My wrist seems to ache lately… Must be from holding the blades for so many years,” she had explained in passing a couple weeks ago. He realises that it’s probably taking a strain on her to push him every fucking day.

“Oi,” he says.

“Yeah?”

“Stop pushing me. I can handle it,” he explains, tone serious.

“Oh, no,” her hand is trembling still. “It’s fine, it’s no bother for me, Captain.”

“… It’s an order,” he commands after a moment. She stops in her tracks and he can hear a gentle laugh coming from behind him.

“It had been a while since that, huh.” Confidently, she places one of her hands on his shoulder, gently tapping it. Levi smiles. Barely curving his lips, but he does. He is about to be brave, hold her hand on his shoulder when she removes it from him. “Shit,” he thinks. “Too slow… Too slow? Slow for what? Tsk.”

Despite his missing fingers, he can still push his wheelchair quite properly. It also helps that he can see his street far ahead. She walks comfortably besides him, a silence and gentle ghost as his most devoted companion.

Yeah. There’s definitely something aching in his chest. He had been noticing the past days, feeling getting more painful as they both approach his place. And it has nothing to do with his faulty joints or damaged body or excessive age.

When they reach his door, she asks for his key. Levi gives it to her, his hand lingering for a second too long, reflecting on the brief touch of hands as she grabs it to unlock the door.

He is tired.

And he feels incredibly silly when he realises he doesn’t want her to leave.

“There we go, Captain. I help you in?” she suggests with a bright smile, opening the door.

“… Yes.”

She steps inside and pushes the chair into his living room, almost getting it next to his couch.

“That’s enough” he decides, in a semblance of independency he still wants to maintain.

She nods. “Okay… I guess… I’ll get going, Captain.”

Levi lifts up his gaze. He wants to ask… He wants to know… He savours her image for a moment, her tired expression and the way her dress now looks clumsy and wrinkled but he doesn’t care. Before, before everything had ended up like this he would remind every single cadet to iron their uniforms, all the outfits presentable, so as to look like respectable soldiers and honourable bodies if the occasion arose. Now she can have the privilege of looking messy. Of not worrying about death so often.

“No,” he mutters.

“Huh?” she inquires, taking a step forward.

“Shit,” Levi thinks. “I… I want tea,” he makes up a quick lie.

“Oh, sure. Yes, Captain.” She leaves her bag on the couch and goes into the kitchen, getting a kettle full of water.

He looks at her in quiet admiration.

He doesn’t deserve her. But again, he doesn’t really deserve anything. He already has gotten too much: spoiled by the sweet possibility of life when all his comrades have fallen, their bodies twisted, mangled by titans and enemies alike.

Levi hardly cries, but he wants to cry in that moment. She turns on the stove for him, and rummages through his cabinets. She finds two cups and a sob is trapped inside his throat.

He doesn’t fucking understand why she stays, why she puts up with his sorry ass but, damn it. Damn it if he at least doesn’t try.

He stands up. His body still holds that ability, though his legs get tired rather quickly. He can still walk, so he does until he reaches the kitchen. She is still deciding on the teas when she sees him.

“Oh, no, Captain, please, just don’t…”

He interrupts her, grabs her waist carelessly and pushes her towards the couch, barely moving her.

“Let me handle it myself.”

“Levi…” She whispers, their faces inches apart.

“Go. Sit,” he mumbles, biting his lips and sending his eyes lower, so as to avoid her face.

“Are you sure?” She inquires a moment after, still close to him. He notices she has a hand on his waist as well, a protective aid making sure he stays on two feet.

“Yes,” he says, more commanding this time. He grabs that hand of hers and pushes her away gently now.

She nods, understandingly.

“I’ll be in the living room,” she adds.

Levi nods at her, making sure she finally gets that ass of hers in the couch. He is now faced with his kitchen. Most of the cups and teas, everything has been moved lower, so as to accommodate to his wheelchair. Slowly, he kneels, searching for a specific flavour for her. When he finally finds the peppermint and rose one, he mentally cheers. He stands up again, slowly, as if to show confidence, making sure from his peripheral view that she isn’t coming to his aid.

She isn’t. He catches her averting her eyes, though. A confirmation that she has been staring.

He decides to stare as well. Supporting himself on his weakened legs, he waits for the kettle to boil, while looking at her. It’s as if she could notice that, because her head doesn’t move, still fixated on an indescriptible point in his living room.

“Oi, what you looking at?” He says, a bit more light-hearted.

A smile forms on her lips before she even turns her head towards him. She doesn’t answer. Just keeps smiling at him.

“Fuck,” he thinks when he realises he has also slightly curved his lips.

Quickly he turns towards the stove, the kettle already boiling. Levi carefully fills the cups with water, letting the leaves rest. He lifts his gaze up to her for a second but it is already enough for her to notice.

“Need help with the cups?” Her, always so worried, so in tune with his needs. No need for words.

“Of fucking course.”

Still, the only answer he gives her is a polite nod. She stands up, approaching him.

“I’ll handle it, Captain. Just take a seat.”

He lets out a sigh, taking himself to the couch and plopping himself there.

“It’s hard,” Levi thinks as he sees her come back to the living room, two cups in her hands. He accepts the drink, his gaze not leaving her features. “I… I can’t.”

He knows he can’t accept kindness: he doesn’t know how to. Still, he tenses his jaw and forces himself to sip the tea as she takes a seat next to him.

“Peppermint, huh?” She hums mostly to herself.

 “… Yeah,” comes out of his mouth, unsure, less braver than expected. Is he insecure? Has he made a mistake?

“Good choice” She declares and he breathes again, realising that he had been holding his breath. “Bet you already knew that, right?” She adds, cocking her head.

Levi looks at her again. He has been avoiding her eyes but he hadn’t been trained as a soldier to back down in times of peace.

“I did,” he says, his tone firm, a very weak attempt at showing confidence still. “It’s the one you would always ask for when we would have meetings with the Scouts.”

“It’s good tea.” Her tone seems softer now.

Levi hums, too deep inside his mind to notice it.

She wonders. Wonders if he has ever realized that the only reason she would wander through the headquarters late at night was just to be found and reprimanded by him, the way she would be easily entertained by Levi’s stern face. Wondered if Hange had ever told him about the time she had fallen asleep in their office and woke up, mumbling his name, much to Hange’s delight, though they had promised to keep it a secret.

He looks down at his legs, at his carpeted floor.

He wonders if she had ever noticed the way he would mindlessly lick his lips after looking at her, the boring uniform suddenly a beautiful outfit, making her stand out. Wonders if it was too late to tell her that, yes, after Hange and her had found him, and stitched him up, that he had heard every single word she had uttered near his heart, softly pressing her timid hands on his chest. There hadn’t been time then to discuss anything or even think if it had meant anything else than old scouts being protective of each other, but now…

They finish their teas in silence. It isn’t uncomfortable, rather the opposite, despite the fact that Levi has started nervously tapping his feet against the floor. It is dark outside already, the light from the lamps flowing into Levi’s house, a dog barking a few blocks away.

She stands up, makes sure to wash her cup in the sink and put it away before returning to him.

“Captain?” She mutters. No need for more words.

Levi hands her the cup with slow movements, as if trying to prolong that insignificant action for as long as possible. And when she is already about to head into the kitchen, little plate and teacup in her hand, he decides to be brave. No more lying to himself, no more being a coward. Too many people have died, have bleed, have sacrificed the little they had for a selected group of survivors to be able to live. To enjoy the remaining Earth. For the little ones that survived to be able to find some meaning. Something worth all the pain.

Basking in the fear serves no one. In fact, makes all the death meaningless.

So, Levi looks up at her and grabs her hand, even if he is scared still. Trembling fingers dancing on hers until they secure her hand softly in his. He feels warm even if he doesn’t know what to say, how to convey what he feels. Such a shadow of the man he was. So stupid now.

Levi just wants her to say.

She gasps at the contact but quickly composes herself. A shy smile showing up on her face. They stay like that for a moment, neither daring to break the silence.

“Levi?” She asks after a moment, moving closer to his face, as if asking for permission.

He can only look at her lips in reply.

She shortens the distance between them and kisses him on his lips. It isn’t a big kiss, too flashy or provocative: just a tender contact between two broken people. As soon as he has processed what was going on, she has already moved forward, pressing a kiss on the tip of his nose.

And then, even higher, another kiss on his forehead, her lips remaining close to his face. Levi can’t say anything. Barely reacting. But when she looks at his eyes, she is greeted by the sweet glimmer of tears in them.

Levi. Happy, at last.

And as if reading his mind, she utters: “Do you want me to stay, Levi?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

She complies. In the quiet, late hours of the night, Levi wakes up, his body feeling too rested already. It was a habit hard to break, he wouldn’t sleep much anyway. He sighs still, feeling her body pressing against his, holding him from behind. She has one hand on his shoulder, the other keeping him safe and secured, hugging his waist close. He dares to smile and grab that hand across his belly with both of his hands, so as to make sure that it is real: he is being held. There is someone else with him. Levi isn’t alone. Someone is taking care of him. Someone he’s been devoted to for so many years.

He wants to nuzzle up closer, hide in her chest or neck and feel more.

But he doesn’t dare to. He can’t allow himself to do that yet. 

So he stays awake in silence, hearing the soothing and steady rhythm of her heartbeat.

Levi still doesn’t understand, though.

He doesn’t want to think of why she has chosen him, how he got this privilege so late in his life, when all hope seems to be lost and the thought of a partner didn’t cross his mind at all. He also doesn’t know what to do with this gift, this blessing. Why? How? He is such a crippled shadow of what he used to be. Slow, so consumed by roughness and violence and so useless now.

He has always had something to fight for: his life, his friends, his Squad, Erwin, Hange. Yet since the Rumbling he has just… fallen behind. He is just existing and it seems like his body has finally caught up to his age: no longer agile and strong, but a weakened man, finally leaving the survival mode that has characterised every single aspect of his life. He doesn’t have any goals or dreams now. Everything had been slowly trampled down like the titans destroying all land and all life.

He shivers, remembering that day and holds her hand tighter.

Once he had completed the promise made to Erwin, his last order, he had nothing more. No more commands. No more slaying titans.

Just existing.

He doesn’t want that. He has been a fighter, a rebel, a monster his whole life. He only knew of endurance and compliance with the spirit of life, of resistance. He doesn’t know of anything else: the calmness, the quietness, the routine walks and just reading books and sitting on his porch… That is not him. That isn’t life. Being able to choose things for himself, devour life gently and enjoy it instead of painfully trying to keep it close, to grip it between calloused fingers… Peace isn’t familiar.

He has nothing to devote himself to, nothing to prove or fight for.

“Yeah,” he thinks. “Everything is… meaningless… Or it was.”

He closes his eyes, relinquishing himself in the warm body against his.

Some things… Some things have meaning still.

Her.

The way she would scrunch her nose when laughing or buy him drinks or attempt to make him laugh or wear that damn stupid wrinkled dress and — “Fuck. I know her so much by now…”

She had been a Scout too. She had fought and devoted her heart and did everything a Scout had to do. She had fulfilled her duty in the same way he did. She has survived and she doesn’t regret a single thing. Not even this life.

She is at peace.

He wants to sob.

He doesn’t understand peace. Sure, it was his goal, what he always dreamed of, but, damn it. Levi had never thought he would actually get to see something resembling it. Unlike her. She understood what it was: she has accepted peace with open arms and a smile that — fuck, somehow— has been shining on her face throughout the years. Despite so much pain and death…  She still allows herself to fucking live in peace. She forgave herself for the death, for the pain and crimes and let go.

He isn’t sure if he can do the same.

Peace is foreign, strange even. An oddity. And he isn’t stupid, he knows that time would run up someday and that things would turn against them for a second time.

But, still, the promise of the rest of his life in peace lingers.

He could have it.

He fucking could.

Levi reflects on those thoughts for a moment, silent still.

He thinks he can get to an agreement. Maybe, when she wakes up in the morning, he can try to spill his soul to her a little. Try to understand how she handles this life, how she can get up in the mornings after killing so much, and just have tea with him.

But for now, in the quietness of the night, as the old warrior he was, he does the only thing he knows: he promises to dedicate his heart once more.

He finally has a reason, a purpose, something worth protecting again.

Levi lifts his hand, crossing it on his chest the way all Scouts would do. But he doesn’t press it on his heart, but rather, moves it to hold her hand, the one resting on his shoulder. He squeezes it gently, suddenly feeling too overwhelmed by her. By the silent love she had been proclaiming to him all these years and that he couldn’t reciprocate before.

Yes. Now it is the time.

Levi would dedicate his heart once more.

To her and only her.

That may have been the cheesiest ending ever written but !!!! He deserves it, I know. Also someone stop me before I write for Hange, the feelings got to me indeed. Dividers by @/cafekitsune @/saradika and @/vase-of-lilies

[c0smiclatt3]

SATORU GOJO: SAY DON'T GO

i said 'i love you,', you say nothing back.

☾₊ ⊹ TAGS: angst no comfort, friends to lovers, reader and satoru were classmates, reader defected, post-suguru's death, not proofread yet pls be patient w me i just had this in my drafts for too long

after ten years, you meet again; only this time he's here to kill you - whether he can bear to face you or not.

wc: 4.3k (woah)

You look the same as you did the day you left, and Satoru really wishes you didn’t. Maybe this would be easier for him if your days as a curse user and Jujutsu Tech defector somehow disfigured you beyond recognition. If you’d taken advantage of some other curse user you knew and donned some glamour or disguise.

But no. You look the same as he remembered you. Your name rung in his ears when he saw you from his vantage point atop the abandoned school building, echoing just as it had haunted him since he left.

She’s here. She’s here. She’s—

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

“She’s gone.”

Satoru felt like he was going to choke. The door to your dorm was ajar, Shoko standing beside it somber, an unreadable expression on her face.

The door hinges squealed as it slowly slid open. Lo and behold: A half empty bottle of tea on your desk. Empty bags of your favorite chips in your desk trash bin. The curtains fluttering in the open window like they always did because you liked the breeze while you slept. Your bedsheets made, just as they were every morning when you four set off for the day’s missions and drills for the last few years.

And your uniform, folded neatly on your bed, unworn.

Satoru’s mouth went dry, his hand went slack, uncurling from the fist he’d locked it in as he stormed over moments prior. “No. She’s coming back, she left her tea—“

Shoko interrupts him, "Satoru."

“She wouldn’t just up and leave, she—“

“Satoru-”

“Did Suguru rope her into this? Shoko, you haven’t seen them talking have you? Sure I was a bit preoccupied but maybe—“

“Satoru,” Shoko said, firm but resigned. “She’s gone.”

The longer he looked the more it set in: your bag missing from its hook. Your things missing from your desk. A photo of all of you Jujutsu sorcerers beaming at the camera unpinned from your cork board and fluttered to the floor, wrinkled at the corners from drops of water.

“I see.”

Shoko slipped a hand into her coat pocket.

Satoru turned on his heel and walked off down the hallway.

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

Goodbye.

That’s a word he’s said so much of in the last few years that he doesn’t remember anymore how to say hello. What does he say? What does he say, knowing the reason he was here now — that he was sent to kill you for once and for all?

Satoru had tracked you all the way out here. You’d gotten sloppy after Suguru’s death. The higher ups didn’t think a dirty defector like you had the capacity to mourn like that - they were convinced it was bait. It's why they sent their silver bullet himself. But Satoru knew otherwise. He knew you were too careful, too sharp to make a mistake like that any other day, and here he found you - in an abandoned school building in a small town by the countryside.

You sat in the crumbling classroom, knees to your chest on a rickety chair covered in cobwebs, tracing patterns on the dust on the desk surface. You look up, your expression neutral. You weren't surprised to see him here, like you expected him, even knowing that meant certain death. It almost made him want to laugh.

So you were feeling nostalgic, huh?

It was sunset on a quiet late summer evening, the clouds streaking along the horizon like pink and golden brushstrokes against a violet sky. What a beautiful day to die, you think to yourself. Pink. Gold. Violet.

And there he stood, silhouetted save for his eyes.

Blue. Stunningly blue.

Perhaps this is mercy, then.

You speak first.

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

“It’s a pleasure to meet you!” Hands at your side, you bow deeply and snap back up to attention. Your mother coached you extensively before you departed for Tokyo on how to be respectful to the city folk, and you rehearsed the self-introduction she taught you to a tee. Fresh-faced, thirteen and bright-eyed, from the moment the train stopped at Tokyo station you put on your brave face.

The boy standing in front of you, however, was not terribly impressed. He stared at you blankly for a few moments.

“Right,” he mumbled, before turning on his heel to walk away.

“H-hey!” you go red in the face, “I wasn’t done-“

He holds his hand up. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard enough.”

You scoff at his bluntness. Well this was no way to start off a relationship with someone she was meant to call her classmate. “You’re not going to bother telling me who you are?” You call out after him. He stops.

“… You’re being serious?” he looks at her over her shoulder. His eyes flash blue - blue enough to rival the hue of the sky above them. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen eyes that blue before.

“… Well yeah-“

“Damn,” he turns back around, though rather than venom in his voice there's almost a sense of amusement and curiosity. “They weren’t kidding. You really are a country bumpkin.”

Regardless, you felt a burning in your chest as you clenched a fist. “I’ll show ya a country bumpkin,” you muttered.

“Huh? Couldn’t understand your accent, country girl,” he called out over his shoulder. You grit your teeth.

“Oi!” you call out after him, “At least give me your name so I know what to call ya while I kick ‘yer ass!”

There was something endearing to him about someone who actually didn’t know who he was for once. Who didn’t approach him like some god or some weapon. He mutters your surname to himself. He remembers Yaga-sensei telling him something about how you came from an insignificant family of sorcerers in the countryside. Out of your entire lineage, only you turned out with a technique that could actually be useful. Of course you wouldn’t know much about Jujutsu clan politics or the heavyweight names. Alright. He’ll bite.

“Won’t need it. I’ll have your ass in the dirt first, kid.”

“Who ‘ya callin’ kid!” Your fists clenched at your sides. He raised an eyebrow.

“You gonna punch me, kid?”

“I’m the same damn age as you, don’t act cocky!” In your twintail braids and with your tiny stature it was hard to take you as a serious threat.

“You’re a little thing. Why would I be scared of you?”

You threw a punch. You didn’t know what would be coming next - of course you didn’t. Your hand hit an invisible wall and you yelped, withdrawing your hand back and feeling the stinging pain in your knuckles. You look at him with a sense of challenge, but also a sense of amazement. Who the hell was this guy?

“You wanted my name? Well, here it is, kid—“

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

“Satoru.”

As if understanding just how his name coming from your lips made him feel, the clouds parted to allow a stream of sunlight to illuminate you like a spotlight. The doomed antiheroine of today’s tale, in all her tragic glory, looking up listless like the soul had long been drained from her eyes.

Why, oh why did you have to say his name like that?

“I think we both know why I’m here.”

You nod. You look away from him. You’re not sure if you can bear to look at him now. “It’s been a while since we’ve sparred, Satoru.”

He swallows. “That it has.”

“Maybe today is the day I finally catch up to you after all these years.”

He shrugs. Somewhere in that nonchalant shrug is the unbothered kid you knew all those years ago. “You can try.”

But you both knew how this ended and somewhere deep inside you knew you deserved it anyway for your sins.

You can’t stop yourself from cracking a bitter smile. “Well, then,” you drop your satchel to the ground, laying out your knives before you, and as if pulled by strings they rise around you on guard. “One last spar. For old time’s sake.”

Satoru’s lips curl into a smirk.

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

“You’re on.”

You crack your knuckles. The other Jujutsu sorcerers may underestimate your technique, you remember your mother saying. Don’t let them. You put your hands on your hips and grin.

“Don’t underestimate me, though!”

“Can’t make any promises, country girl!”

You raise your fist and Satoru stands at the ready —

But your fist slams on the window behind you instead, shattering the glass. Satoru looks at you, confused —

And then the shards begin to levitate, forming a circlet around you.

“You think some stupid glass is gonna protect you?” Satoru scoffs. “You’ve got no idea what you’re up against here, squirt.”

You grit your teeth, close your eyes and concentrate. The shards go flying at Satoru. He’s got his eyes on you, his eyes on the shards —

And then your figure flickers. It flickers then it’s gone. He looks around, sensing that the cursed energy thrumming in the shards has grown stronger, almost humming with immense power. One shard passes just in front of his face, another just behind him, but rather than his own reflection in the glass he sees you.

You and a proud smile. You flicker behind him, and—

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

The first punch is thrown.

His movements are fluid. Graceful. Like conducting the orchestra of life and matter itself. He’s gotten even better since you left. You didn’t even know that was possible.

Your glass knives go zinging around him just as he remembered, but your technique was no match for a man who could see everything. All you had to do to try to keep up was to be faster. Faster. Faster.

But you were fighting a hopeless battle and you knew it. This was Satoru Gojo and at the end of the day you were a curse user. You knew how this ended. At this point the back and forth was just a formality.

His punches landed like they always did, the familiar blasts of red and blue that you learned to dodge all those years ago — only something was different. Something was off. His punches just barely you, just close enough to feel the breeze around his enclosed fists. He was holding back. You knew him well enough to know that.

Your grit your teeth, “Don’t go soft on me now, Satoru.”

“Who said I was?”

What a horrible liar.

“Terrible time for you to suddenly grow a conscience,” the quips are bittersweet in your mouth, rolling over your tongue like the tooth-rotting sugar of a childhood candy. Something in this back and forth felt nostalgic. Something in this back and forth made your heart lurch. Something in this back and forth made you feel as if any minute now you would dust the dirt off your pants, sigh in defeat, and walk off with him and. the rest of your class for a popsicle at the 7-eleven nearby. But this wasn't what this was. Suguru was dead. Yuu was dead. You defected years ago. And Satoru was sent with a mission that he was going to finish, no matter how much it pained him to. You just prayed it would be over quickly.

You grit your teeth, "I thought I was fighting the strongest!" Another blast just barely misses you.

"You are," his palm extends outward, a thundering force tunnelling along the concrete to your position, stopping just there before your feet.

God, this would be easier for you if he could just kill you like a cold-blooded killer. If in the last few years since you left the Satoru you knew had been successfully replaced with the sharpened knife the higher ups spent their whole life training him to be. But the hesitation in his attacks said otherwise in the most heartbreaking way possible. The words left unsaid over the last ten years came through in every missed attack, every pulled punch. Even now, even after everything, he was protecting you.

"Then hit me like you mean it!"

Like you mean it. If Satoru did anything right now the way he meant it this would be going a lot differently. If he could do this the way he meant it he would've stopped a long time ago. He would have extended his hand, flashing that arrogant smile he knew annoyed you to no end and helped you back to your feet.

But you want a fair fight and you'll get it. It'd be an insult to the sorcerer you'd grown into for him to hold back now at this crucial moment. All those hours, all those extra missions you took on while you were peers, all those promises and challenges, if you were going out you wanted to go out right. That was the least he could give you after all, wasn't it?

And so what did it mean when his attacks began to ripple through the concrete, forcing you to jump and weave around his blasts until you could feel your legs giving out? When his attacks forced you to concentrate all your energy into whizzing around between your blades, the sheer focus of reading his attacks and focusing your cursed energy draining your mind? That he acknowledged you. That he would fight you here and now as the sorcerer he respected. As the sorcerer he admired.

Your movements are angles, refractions, jets of blinding light and flickering reflections against his tremendous power. Slivers of light streams shooting between each blade - here, then here, then here - distributing your cursed energy across them so it would be more difficult for him to detect, David against Goliath. A battle of light against matter.

Until you shattered.

You lay on the concrete and hear the crunching of Satoru's shoes as he walks toward you. He walks slowly. He's giving you more time on purpose and you can tell, as if willing you to get up and fight, if only to prolong the inevitable. So he could avoid it for just a minute longer. He could have killed you long ago. But he hasn't.

The ground seems to simmer, rumbling with the sheer intensity of Satoru's cursed energy as the dust clears. He'd shot you down to the ground and here you were again.

"Barely even a scratch and you're on the ground already?" The quip is obviously meant to get a rise out of you but his voice is tinged with sadness. Get up. Get up, please.

You cough once. Twice. You feel something warm trickle from your lips and the taste of iron. "Cut the pleasantries, Satoru. We both know how this ends."

The sun sets below the horizon as he walks over, casting a shadow on your crumpled figure. You spit blood onto the concrete and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, lip stained scarlet. You're the picture of a pathetic and battered curse user, and you hope that the sight he sees before him now would be alien enough to him, that he wouldn't prolong this torture any longer. That his muscle memory would activate seeing something cowered before him and he would lift his hand and finish you off sooner or later. You hoped this way you wouldn't need to face him in this state, wouldn't need to get a torturously close look at the man you could have known in some other life had you chosen a different life.

The man you could have had.

To your anguish, he speaks. "I didn't want it to end like this."

You look away. You can scarcely bear to look at him right now without your heart aching. "...I know."

"I always hoped you'd come back on your own."

But that was wishful thinking. A sorcerer like you, after all that you' had done, would never be allowed to waltz right back into Jujutsu society, to return to that world and it's secrets and privileges as if you had never done the things you did when you followed Suguru all those years ago. No matter how much you might have daydreamed about it on occasion, no matter how many times you found yourself stopping by those campus gates and wondering what would happen if you walked your way back inside. Whether the key you kept in your pocket, a useless memento now, would still slot into your old dorm room. If your pictures would still be up on the wall, the hung up receipts from weekends out at the mall with Ieiri and Iori, the sticky notes Satoru had thrown at you in the middle of classes, ticket stubs from past missions.

And Satoru would be lying if he didn't say the same, if he didn't spend the first few weeks you left stopping by the freezer on his 7-eleven runs to reach for your favorite ice cream before remembering there was nobody to hand it off to. If he didn't learn a new trick or technique and didn't run to the dorm building to show you before stopping himself. If he didn't watch his students sparring from the bleachers, wondering if you would have been sitting by his side watching them too.

"They'd send me straight for the execution chamber and you know that-"

"You never should've left," he speaks bitterly, regretfully, as if his voice was straining just saying the words, "You should've stayed at Jujutsu Tech, you should've been there with the rest of us, we could've-"

You cut him off before he keeps talking and makes either of you ache any longer. "It's over now, Satoru."

"It didn't have to be, I -" he looks down, his mouth fumbling for words he can't find. His mind scrambles for any idea he could possibly have for bringing you back, and just as quickly as they come they form they dissipate, like a fistful of powder.

He squeezes his eyes shut, his voice breaking. "What am I supposed to do with you now..."

Your next words are spoken with finality. "Exactly what you were told to do."

The words make your throat tighten, make your arms tremble and struggle to hold yourself up. You keep your head down.

After a few moments he finally mutters a few words. "You're making this difficult."

"I'm sorry."

"Why," he whispers, "why did you do it?" His voice breaks. "Why did you leave me?"

Your face burns. You don't have the heart to tell him that when Suguru spoke, he spoke so convincingly. That after you saw the dead eyes of Riko Amanai in her shroud, young enough to be your classmate, young enough to be your sister, then walked back out into the swarming Tokyo streets wondering what she died for you wanted to throw up.

When you saw Satoru walk around like a living corpse, when you saw him have to force himself back into his usual self, that life had to somehow go on after all that had happened, you felt sick - sick.

So in your youth you thought that Suguru had found an answer. Some way that would bring us anywhere but here. Some world where you and everyone you loved wouldn't have to live and die like this.

"I thought I was doing the right thing-"

"You were one of the few good things I had left."

A silence settles between you two. Your eyes meet his.

Once upon a time he looked at you with the twinkle of a challenge in his eye, waking up in the morning looking forward to whatever stupid shenanigans you and the rest of your classmates would get up to that day. The way he looks at you now, with ten years in between your last meeting, since the last time you saw those eyes truly full of light and hope, he looks at you with the eyes of a dead man.

You couldn't live. You shouldn't. Or those eyes would haunt you forever.

When people look into the eyes of Satoru Gojo, they practically look into the eyes of God. The man who holds the balance of life in his very sight. Jujutsu sorcerers and cursed spirits alike cowered under his icy gaze.

But just as you had all those years ago, when you looked at him you only saw a boy. A boy whose heart left with you ten years ago.

You reach your hand up, sliding your fingers between his, and before he can even process it, his hand gently squeezes yours.

Please. Please.

For a moment he is quiet. For a moment his pulse jumps in his throat. For a moment he almost believes all those delusions in his head, that there was some way for you to return to Jujutsu. Return to him.

Your fingers fold around his, sliding and twisting his hand into a point directed straight to your forehead. You close your eyes.

"Satoru."

His name sounds devastating on your lips, the way you speak his name knowing it may be one of the last things you say and, God, if there was the right final word let it be his name.

Your name passes from his lips like a whisper in return. You two refuse to say anything more. You know if you say what you want to you run the risk of cursing him, and your shadow has loomed on him for long enough. Yours and many others'.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

The words sit, shapeless on your tongue. You don't dare speak them - for his sake. As much as it will kill you. As much as it would kill him either way.

Those unspoken words hang in the air, and Satoru breaks the silence.

"I-"

"Don't."

"Please-"

"I said don't-"

HIs voice begins to rise. "Please just say it, say something, anything-"

"You know what would happen if I do."

"I do! And does it look like I give a damn?! Don't leave me again, God, don't leave, stay with me this time. Give me that much, just don't go-"

"No," you say firmly, and you want to crumble when you feel the way he winces at your interruption. "... Please."

Satoru's hand trembles.

He swallows.

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

“Another win for yours truly,” Satoru grinned, his hand held out to you. “Seriously, you’d think in three years you’d learn a thing or two,” he pouts pitifully.

“I’ve learned you’re an asshole!” You cross your arms over your chest, rolling onto your side. You huffed, a puff of dirt rising as you did. You hated meeting his eyes when he was gloating, he was always so full of himself after a match.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” he throws his head back laughing as he leaned over you, nudging you with his hand, “get up and let’s to already. You’re covered in dirt, country girl. I mean look at yourself,” he picks up one of your glass shards and holds it up to your face so you can see your reflection. He sticks his tongue out and mock gags. “Uuuugly.”

“Shut up, Satoru!”

He laughs again, a sound warm like the sunshine itself.

“Come on, come on. I’ll buy you an ice cream.”

You turn onto your other side and huff again. He rolls his eyes, exasperated, but smiles at your stubbornness. He shrugs and lays down beside you. “Or is the dirt that comfortable?”

The two of you lay there for a moment under the setting sun, wrapped in the warm of the golden hour. His eyes meet yours and he’s stumped into a pause. It’s been three years since you arrived at Jujutsu Tech and you both have grown since then - him into a young man and you into a young lady of your own right. The light strikes your eyes just so, making them glitter like the sunlight on the sea. Had your eyes always been so beautiful? Had your hair always fallen perfectly around your eyes? Had the little sun freckles on your skin from your childhood in the fields always been so endearing to him?

His heart flutters.

His silence stuns you too. Satoru Gojo was never quiet. When you turn over you see his perpetually smug expression soften, lips parted, eyebrows relaxed, opening those famous blue eyes to you. A breeze passes, the wind rustling the trees above you, and you realize your so close that some of your hair could brush his cheek from here. His silence makes you feel compelled to whisper.

“Satoru?”

In that moment he almost feels compelled to say something stupid. So stupid. With your face this close to him his head is filled with stupid questions. Stupid thoughts.

Instead he flicks your forehead. You yelp and your hand flies to rub that spot.

“What in the world was that for?” you cry out.

“For making me lie on the dirt when it actually sucks.”

“I didn’ make you do anythin’!” There was that little accent slipping out again. He laughs to himself as he gets up and stands over you again, waiting for you to join him. You look up at him and look up at the sky.

"One day," you huff, "one day we'll settle this for once and for all. And I'm gonna win."

He smiles down at you. "I'll be waiting."

writing masterlist | bot masterlist

☾₊ ⊹ AN: omg about time i got this out of my drafts. i wrote like 80% of this on the plane and then had no idea how to actually end it, so i sat on it for a few days and hopefully this ended up working out idk. this is definitely longer compared to the other stuff i've done so i really appreciate it if you did end up reading all this way. byyyye!

[badsassitude]

The Boyfriend: Why Shun Needs Hugs (Deep Dive Part 1/3)

My brain does not want to shut up about the dynamics on this show, and I am ready to fight everyone talking smack about Shun.  Look, that boy needs to be hugged, not shamed, and that is a hill I am ready to die on.  

Emotions are complicated and messy. Sometimes the things we want the most are the things we are the most scared of, and sometimes we desperately struggle between wanting to connect and wanting to protect ourselves from pain and doing neither well. It’s a bit like trying to go left but also go right and just pacing back and forth and not going anywhere. What was meant initially to be a simple reflection of exploring Shun’s behavior through the lens of attachment theory took on a life of its own, and now we have parts.

So here is part one, in which we look at Shun's behaviors through the lens of anxious attachment and I draft adoption papers 24 years too late.

Shun as presented in episodes 1-6 of The Boyfriend, has anxious attachment written all over him. **I think it is MASSIVELY IMPORTANT to understand that I am not saying Shun has an anxious attachment style.** First and foremost, what we as watchers see is only a series of filmed interactions edited together. Even if we could see 24/7 unedited footage from the moment Shun stepped into the Green Room, we would still only be seeing a small part of Shun’s life, during a time where he is outside of his normal life and environment. Secondly, we can only see what is outwardly observable, so at best our perspective is based off of guesses and interpretation for which there is no way to validate, elaborate on, or clarify.

For context, in a super brief, overly simplified cliff notes version: anxious attachment is one of the insecure attachment styles included in attachment theory.  Attachment theory describes common behaviors and characteristic of 4 primary attachment styles (of which anxious attachment is an insecure attachment style).

Second note: attachment is not static, remember, emotions are complicated and people don’t fit into neat little boxes. How we attach in different relationships with different people at different points in our lives is unique to that relationship and that context. 

Now back to Shun (well, my interpretation of the Netflix reality TV edited version). Some behaviors I have seen demonstrated by Shun in the show that characterize anxious attachment include:

fear of rejection 

Frequent need for validation, reassurance, attention 

Low self-esteem 

Intense desire for intimacy and closeness, but afraid of abandonment- contributing to the push/pull of clingy to pushing away

Difficulty trusting others 

Jealousy 

For children who grow up feeling as if their needs are not met, with inconsistencies in caregiver responses and an environment that feels unpredictable and perhaps unsafe - they have a higher risk of developing an insecure attachment style (such as anxious attachment) because they did not experience secure attachment bonds. 

Think about what Shun has shared of his story:  Shun never knew his parents. Most likely they abandoned him, and he doesn’t know why. He grew up in a children’s home/orphanage. He was raised by caregivers who took care of him because it was their job. It is reasonable to infer that there was likely turnover in staff at an unknown frequency, and there was likely inconsistency in how staff treated him. It is possible that other children came and went, possibly were adopted. There was nothing stable or secure in that environment, and the even the most loving of caregivers weren’t family and could leave at any time. 

Additionally, he made two comments that set my trauma spidey-senses tingling. Per the Netflix translation, Shun said “Even there… I went through a lot.” Quickly followed by, “And… well, after a lot happened, I ended up coming to Tokyo on my own.” He then added that since coming to Tokyo he has been free, which was said with a little smile and a nod that pierced me to my core. The way he presented while telling his story, so matter of fact with a level of detachment, is very consistent with how I have experienced many trauma survivors telling their stories. 

Now add to all that what he has shared about his past relationships - primarily that he had experiences with “player types” that were clearly painful enough that seeing whatever pictures he saw on Dai’s phone triggered him to the point of tears. He described one relationship as horrible, he “couldn’t get out of it.”  

When you think about what that man has been through, is it that strange that while he may desperately long for love and intimacy, that he’s also terrified of being vulnerable in the way you have to be to get it? 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

[klausinamarink]

One Kid Gone, Another Up and Vanished

ok wow a lot of you really love my Eddie in the UD with Will au and want that in fruition, huh… so by popular demand here’s like a very rough oneshot. Basically a first draft that sets up the overall plot until i write a better one someday in the future

Edit: I lied, here’s the other parts (ongoing): Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 now on ao3!

Wayne doesn’t hear the news of Will Byers’ disappearance until the afternoon workers come in. Within minutes, the whole plant is buzzing with bewilderment and sympathy. But there is also an underline of fear that struck some of the hearts of the family men. Hawkins hadn’t seen any child disappearance cases, at least not since Wayne moved to the town in the last decade.

He is worried about the boy, especially for the Byers family. He doesn’t know Joyce too well, but they’ve talked plenty at Melvard’s with stories of their boys being quietly mischievous. Wayne sent a silent prayer that Will can be found soon and bring his mother peace.

He doesn’t speed the drive way home, but it’s damn close. He just wants Eddie to be home safe without some boogeyman taking him away.

Thankfully, his nephew is on the couch and watching a movie. He greets Wayne with a lazy wave, “Weren’t enough leftovers so I made some dinner. Hope you won’t die from my veggie soup.”

Wayne ruffles his hair - which had grown past his ears now - and sits next to him. “You heard about the Byers boy?”

“Hm, yeah. Everyone was talking about it. Saw Jonathan putting up the flyers too.” Eddie says, his eyes still on the TV.

Wayne puts an arm around him, making Eddie look at him. “Ya know that if you ever go missing, I’ll search even the lands of Hell for you.”

Eddie’s quiet. He stares with misty eyes, which he quickly blinks away. Then he lightly shoves at Wayne’s ribs. “‘Course, you would, old man. I’m the only family you care about.”

“Hey, don’t go disrespecting your cousins like that.” Wayne jokes back, making Eddie laugh. The two of them watch the movie in comfortable silence until Wayne has the mind to get up and shower.

—

It’s a double shift today. It means extra pay but it also means Wayne wouldn’t be home until early morning. He tells Eddie this before leaving and Eddie says it’s fine as usual, only that he had band practice so he’ll be coming home late. Wayne tells him make sure to stay safe too.

The next morning comes as the second day of Will Byers’ disappearance. Wayne is predictably sore and tired, but his mind remains sharp as stone.

It’s why he doesn’t miss that Eddie’s van isn’t parked next to the trailer.

The small pebble of concern forms in his stomach, but he brushes it off. Eddie’s been going to go to school early lately so it’s not unusual.

But that pebble feels like a rock when he heads to the kitchen and finds no note on the table.

When Wayne first took in Eddie, who was skittish and mute back then, he started writing notes and leaving them next to Eddie’s plate of breakfast. It was little things like ‘eggs are better runny’ and ‘don’t remember toast being this toasted’. A way to get the boy to slowly open up. Not only it worked, but Eddie soon started writing his own notes, mostly of jokes that always made Wayne laugh heartedly.

Even at seventeen, Eddie never missed a day of breakfast without a note.

Wayne makes himself take a deep breath. There wasn’t any reason to get worried. Eddie might’ve been tired or was in some kind of rush. But even then, he would make doodles to make up a lack of written words.

Just check him at the school. He’ll still be there, even if he’s missing classes.

So Wayne leaves and drives en route to Hawkins High, the secret bane of his existence. (Not that he’ll confess that to Eddie. His nephew already has enough of an ego.)

But as he turns at Cherry, he nearly crashes himself into the trees. Because at the corner, parked hazardously at the side, is Eddie’s van.

Wayne gets out in record time, but forces himself to a slow pace. He hopes that anger wouldn’t be on his face when he finds Eddie on the driver’s seat.

But Eddie isn’t in the driver’s seat. In fact, the door is half open. As if it was meant to close but had no force behind it. The front of the van also looks crushed in.

That pebble or rock in his gut grows bigger and heavier when Wayne spots a red handprint stained on the wheel.

Somewhere further in the woods, the search party calls out Will’s name. Wayne is the only one to call out for another.

—

Earlier

Eddie scowled at his bandaged left wrist. He mentally sent a thousand curses for Luka Belinski to jail for a thousand years. The crime? He showed off how easily he can flip his switch knife without getting cut, creating a jealous curiosity within Eddie to try and do the same action. Now his ability to play another instrument was impaired forever!

Seriously, fuck the clarinet players.

He sighed, starting up his van’s engine. He pulled out of the school parking lot, waving to a few peers as he hit the road. He waited until the school was out of view that he changed the radio to David Bowie.

He was in a bad mood. Sue him. Not that anybody can find out.

As he sang along to “Watch That Man”, he felt his left palm oddly sticky. He lifted it up and saw that some of the blood had dripped out his bandage.

“Shit-” was all he said before something crashed in the front of his van. He swore even more loudly, turning the wheel too quickly and pressing the brakes. He thought he heard a loud wail before the van went off the road and finally stopped.

Eddie shakily got out of the van, nearly falling over. His hand pressed against his chest, feeling his wild heartbeat. Before he could inspect the damage, he heard a pained growl. He whipped around and saw a thing standing up long and tall with a face that opened up like the devil’s Venus Flytrap.

What the fuck?!

He ran into the woods. Yeah, nope nope nope fuck that.

Branches snapped behind him and he felt a clawed hand grabbing the back of his jacket. He fell to the ground, screaming and kicking his legs out as he was dragged. His good hand reached out to the scratch the monster’s arm, but his nails barely dug into the gross skin.

There was a weird swoop of vertigo as if Eddie was thrown up in the air. He remained on the ground though, but not until he was actually thrown across. His back hit against a tree, knocking him out for a second.

When his vision cleared, it was to the horrific closeup of the Venus Flytrap face. Eddie opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out. The monster growled, its weird toothy mouth drooling over him. He shut his eyes, hoping that he would die painlessly and that Wayne wouldn’t find his body.

Then the monster growled again, with some weird fleshy sounds. Eddie dared to peek an eye open. Its face-mouth was shut and it looked around. Then it hopped to all fours and ran off to another direction.

He forced himself to wait for a full minute before he ran again.

There were few things Eddie realized. One: he had no idea where the fuck he was. Two: he had no idea what the fuck was that thing. Three: holy shit monsters were real and he almost died. Four: was it snowing?

He slowed down his run and reached a hand out. A few snowflakes slowly landed on his fingers, but it didn’t melt or felt cold. It wavered around before he blew them off.

He looked around, trying to guess which way was the road, and saw even something more weird. There were vines practically everywhere. The ground was littered with them. They curled around tree trunks and hang off the branches. Eddie was pretty sure that none of that even existed in the Hawkins woods.

Something blurred to his far right and growled. Eddie went back to running.

He looked back to see if that monster was back and fell off a small ledge. He tumbled and rolled with a yelp, feeling one of his ankles spike in pain. He scrambled to get back on his feet and made direct eye contact with Will Byers.

Seeing the kid’s missing posters everywhere had Eddie memorize the face. Bowlcut hair with a dimpled smile and cheerful eyes. But the kid’s eyes were fearful as he hid under a den of twisted roots.

“Uh…” Eddie said because what the fuck, he just found the missing kid.

Another growl, closer this time.

Will’s eyes snapped up, gesturing wildly to Eddie. “Here, here, quick!”

Eddie crawled in record time into the root den, barely fitting next to Will. He clamped a hand over his mouth as the sounds of the monster approached right above them. It made more sniffing and growling sounds, each one sounding closer…

He glanced at Will, who held a small rock in his hand. For a second, Eddie thought if the kid was gonna hit the monster with it. Instead, Will swiftly threw the rock to his left where it landed loudly against the bushes.

The monster roared so loud Eddie thought his ears burst. It scampered off to the rock’s direction and then everything was quiet.

Will poked his head out and nodded, “It’s gone.” Then he looked at Eddie and Eddie looked at Will.

He brought his hand down from his mouth, suddenly feeling lightheaded. “Don’t tell them I listened to Bowie.”

The last thing Eddie saw and heard before fainting was Will tilting his head in confusion and asking, “What?”

— —

tagging these lovely people for their excitement over this silly au: @unclewaynemunson @steves-strapcollection @hellion-child @sidekick-hero @mmmmwaffles94 @demolitionjetstar @hbyrde36

[somber-sapphic]

hii could you possibly do a jj x reader book where reader is in denial abt being ill 🫶

Too Far

〖Summary: You and JJ have a fight about your health. This is my attempt at angst (with a happy-ish ending), just a heads up that I am still practicing so it may not count as real angst and instead h/c.〗

〖Word Count: 〗

〖Pairing: JJ x Sick R〗

〖Notes: Every time I drink caffeine for writing I think it's a great idea because I'll be able to write so much but then I focus on something that isn't writing for several hours. I played too much Toon Blast. Also this is sort of edited but not that thoroughly〗

☾Masterlists☽

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Y/n what the hell are you doing?” JJ asked, her words laden with exasperation. You looked up from the case file and raised an eyebrow. The two of you had been snippy with each other all day, each of your nerves fraying as the days without catching the killer went on. The fact that Hotch had ordered you to the hotel made everything worse, the guilt of not being able to help the victims eating at you.

“You want to check your tone?” You snapped back, the hoarseness of your voice taking a bit away from the punch you meant to deliver. It was probably for the best, the combination of exhaustion, stress, and what seemed like more than just the sniffles was making you bitter. JJ rolled her eyes and walked over to the desk, dropping the CVS bag beside the papers you had been studying for hours.

“Cold medicine. Take it. And seriously, put the file away and lie down.” You rolled your eyes, something that caused an explosion of pain in your head, but it seemed worth it for the passive aggressiveness. You didn’t want her to know how bad you were starting to feel, you couldn’t give in to the pressure of the team, and everyone worked while they were sick. 

Your fever, stuffy nose, cough, and the pressure in your sinuses were not more important than catching a serial killer. Although the fever was really starting to bother you, weighing down your head and making your eyes burn. And your nose hurt from blowing it so often. And your body ached so badly that it felt like your bones were being squeezed. And your throat felt like you had lived off of a diet of lemon juice and broken glass.

“I don’t need cold medicine because I don’t have a cold. Why are you here anyway, I don't need a babysitter. Don’t you have families to interview?” JJ let out a harsh laugh and plopped herself down onto the bed, crossing her arms over her chest in clear frustration. What the two of you needed was a bit of space before a serious conversation but it wasn’t an option given the current situation. 

“Right, of course not. The obvious cold symptoms are nothing, you’re shivering in a 75-degree hotel room because of a nonexistent draft. And believe me, I don’t want to be here right now but Hotch doesn’t trust you alone.” That last comment cut deep and her face clouded with guilt as soon as she said it. She knew it was too far but it only hardened your resolve. 

“Then leave, there are six other people who could be here it doesn’t need to be you.” 

“Why won’t you just admit being sick? Why? You are not helping anyone here, the only thing you’re doing is hurting yourself. Do you honestly think this is a good idea?” JJ exploded, dragging a hand through her slightly greasy hair. She’d been too preoccupied with your health and the case to have time for more than a quick shower. 

“Do you honestly think I want to work like this? Of course, I feel like shit, my entire body is on fucking fire but if I stop working people will die!” You yelled back, tears brimming in your eyes. You’d finally said it out loud. You’d admitted to the thoughts that had been swirling inside of you, keeping you from even allowing people to talk about the way you felt. 

JJ’s face fell as you felt tears that you couldn’t blink away beginning to run down your fever flushed cheeks. You barely had a handle on your emotions before but now the walls had crumbled to dust and you couldn’t take it. You felt so shitty for so many reasons, it was so hot in your skin and you were struggling to keep case facts straight in your head which only upset you further. 

“Sweetheart,” JJ murmured, taking a half step forward. She’d seen you break down before but never on a case, when it happened it was always at home. 

“No! No! JJ we’ve been here for weeks, he keeps taking them and we don’t even know why, we can't tell these people anything. They hate us, they have every right to fucking hate us! There has to be something missing and-and I can't just sit here and do nothing while people are dying!” You were sobbing now, your chest heaving as you tried to calm yourself down. You wrapped your arms around yourself in a tight hug, a self-soothing method that usually worked to calm you down. The switch had been flipped, you were acting on pure misery. 

“Y/n, honey you said it earlier. There are six other profilers doing everything they can to find the killer. You being sick is not your fault but it is something we need to take care of. If you keep going like this you’re going to mess up, you’re going to hurt yourself, there are so many reasons why you need to rest. Come here, lay down, let me take help you. Please.” 

She was right. You hated it, but she was. You were already mixing up facts about victims in your head, there was really no way that you could be of any use right now. The last thing you wanted to do was stop but even worse would be providing false information that would throw the team off the trail. 

Despite your hesitation, it didn’t take long for JJ to get you settled into bed. She was working with the determination of a worried mother hen, moving quickly to check your temperature, feed you some medicine, and put a cool cloth on your head. You huddled under the fluffy duvet, your body already beginning to shut down now that you weren’t forcing yourself to work.

“I’m sorry Y/n. I haven't been fair.” JJ said softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. She flipped the cloth on your forehead, sending a wave of cold through your body. You didn’t like it but she insisted that it needed to be there. 

“Neither have I. But I can’t right now. Can we wait until we’re home?” You pleaded, voice exuding weakness. Even if you wanted to have that conversation there was no way it would be productive in your current state. JJ nodded in agreement and let out a deep sigh. 

Nothing had really been resolved. The apologies from both were surface-level at best but at least there was an admission of wrongdoing on both sides. Your jobs had been hard on the relationship, harder than either of you had thought it would be. For now, the discussion would be tabled, saved for a time when the two of you were in a space to have it. It might not have been perfect but it was better than nothing. 

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[yourgentlegirlfriend]

OKAY GUYS!! I had gotten this as a request thank you so fucking much anon though I don’t do your prompt justice at all. I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED the draft that had 4k words i was so sad that’s why i didn’t post all day!! But this prompt was just so fucking good but my writing again doesn’t do it justice at all. It’s absolutely not proof read and it’s just BAD in my opinion but your opinions matter to me the most </3

DISCLAIMER: This is an 18+ blog! If you are underaged or don’t have an age indicator in your bio, please don’t interact!

Afab reader x Rookie Leon <3

Warnings: Porn with a plot THIS IS A STRIPPER STORY, Rookie!Leon, somewhat Subby Leon, he’s a whiny little bitch but it’s so cute. Mentions of cervix bumping, reverse cowgirl (yee haw), that’s really it!!

word count: 3,799

The chief claims it’s a tradition. The men in the office pay to bring the rookie to the only strip club in the city. At first Leon thought they were joking, especially because the station is to busy to have the time to even go, he also just didn’t believe that there was a club in general. He viewed the city as modest, fast, but modest.

Leon’s small party at the station made him so eager to start working. He craved the feeling of not being the “Rookie” anymore, it’s been overwhelming but he was so excited for his new career. Everyone congratulates him but he knew they all came for the food, or alcohol. As the talking died down and the families began to leave, the staff was still full of life, well everyone but Leon. He pulled open his locker, grabbing at his jacket causing a loud call of his name.

“Where are you going? The night is just starting! Don’t tell me you wanna go home, we have one more surprise for you”

They have been teasing him since he started his training, Leon was so nervous they’d just leave him on the side of the road somewhere. They all crammed into one car, Leon’s eyebrows frowning as they drove further into the city. When the car came to a stop, the men next to him rambling on about the most random stuff, his brain censored it out.

They basically dragged him into the building, Leon fixing the collar of his jacket as the Chief flashed his badge at the bodyguard who just nudged his arm softly, the group of men roared with laughter.

The chief handed the woman at the bracelet an uncomfortable amount of money, leaning on the table as he pointed to Leon. Everyone’s bracelets laid on their wrist a pretty baby pink, the woman with the black french tipped nails walking up to Leon, grabbing his arm. A sly smirk grew on her pretty red lips, Leons head nodding respectfully as a way to say thank you. Her fingers lingered on his arm as she turned to walk away.

“Congratulations.”

Her velvety voice sang seductively as she walked passed the group of cops, Leon watching as she disappeared into the back room. Though he was so happy to be “Accepted” into the group of men, but not in this way. His hand played with the menu in front of him, he didn’t even notice the waitress in front of him till her red nails snapped in his face.

“You want a drink honey?”

Her voice was a bit raspy and she wore- well she didn’t really wear anything. The chief put his hand out, against Leon’s chest causing him to sit further back into the seat.

“Just shots all around please.”

————

Jamie ran into the back, her heels clicking loudly before she yanked your curtain open, your hand slipping causing your eyeliner to now look lopsided. Your tongue poked out the side of your cheek as your eyes met her through the bright lit up mirror in front of you.

“You’re serious?”

You hands dug through your makeup bag for the wipes, wiping at the wobbly line. Jamie closed the curtain behind her, her red lips kissing at your shoulder.

“Honey, your group is here. And they have somebody new, he’s not old either, he has the cutest face. You’re gonna die.”

Her eyes rolled back in almost a pleasure way before she tied the string behind your back into a cute little bow. Your hand reached back to wipe off her lipstick stain before she pushed your hand away.

“Now that, is disrespectful.”

You loved Jamie. She’s the only reason you really stay here, through the harassment, the cut checks and even the drugs that swung through here. Your boss was a major douche bag, the type of man that thinks just because you strip here you are his object. And right when you start thinking about the asshole, he pulls your curtain open, that nasty smile on his face.

“You’re on Bliss.”

Bliss, your stage name. That you absolutely dreaded but he chooses the names for every girl, you’re bliss because everytime you’re on that pole, everyone is smiling, even you. If life went your way you would’ve been a backup dancer for some pop singer, or maybe even did ballet. When you turned nineteen you were denied to every major dance school in the country. It broke your heart and took everyone in your life by suprise, dancing was your life work and you put your whole soul into it.

You glared at him, waiting for him to close the curtain. Peach lipgloss, you dragged it across your lips and smiled as Jamie rubbed the glitter into your skin.

“I don’t deserve you.”

You spoke to her before she kissed the top of your head, helping you up from where you sat at your knees, in front of the mirror. You wore a gorgeously fitted bra, almost like it was made for you. It sparkles when the light hits it just right, your little skirt being identical, cutting off right at the top of your thigh. Unlike all your beautiful coworkers, you refused to wear shoes, your toes and fingers painted pitch black.

“Bliss lets go!”

Your ears picked up the sound of your set song starting, your lips pressed against Jamie’s cheek as you ran down the dressing room hall, your outfit making soft clanking noises as the jewels smacked against each other. Joe, your boss, ALSO picked out all your songs. The soft melody of Childish Gambino's Red Bone echoing through the corridor.

The spotlights always blind you, your eyes taking far too long to adjust, you always get so nervous you’ll fall right off the stage. Your eyes take in your audience, the crowd is always bigger on a Friday night. You smirked over at what the ladies call “Your group” as your hands climbed up the pole, your legs allowing you to flip yourself over, your back arching against the pole. Your attention went from one person to another, before you saw him. His beautiful blonde hair, his jacket looked so heavy on him. That small indent on his chin, the way his chest would rise then fall when he noticed you were staring directly at him.

————

Mesmerized. The way your outfit made your skin sparkle, and your lips part when you dipped yourself down. Everything about you had him under a spell. Even when you got down on your knees, sprawling out for the men in front of you as they shoved bills into your skirt, your eyes never tearing from his. He was distraught when your set ended, your small hands grabbing at all the bills on the ground, a wide smile on your face. It made his pants tight for some reason, guilt washing over him as you blew a kiss goodbye, a smile growing onto him as you ran off the stage, on your tip toes.

—————

“Beautiful, as always.”

Jamie went to hug you, your arm squeezing her as you dug into your bra handing her all your money.

“Take fifty for you but put the rest in my bag.”

You chirped so quickly she barley understood, her eyes following you as you fixed your messy hair, your fingers combing through it as you pushed yourself out the curtain. You tried to pin point him, but couldn’t find him, you cursed yourself for not jumping right off the stage and into his arms. You almost let defeat take you over before you saw him walk out the bathroom, laughing to yourself as he wiped his hands on his jeans. You knew eyes were on you, but you didn’t care. Walking across the smooth velvet floor, his back now facing you as he talked to his group, or your group.

“Hey boys.”

You spoke sweetly, your hands wrapping around the Chiefs arm as the group yelled greeting you. They really were all super sweet, your favorite regulars. You usually don’t come out to talk to them straight after set but you obviously had to tonight. Your face scrunched in confusion as you leaned against the Chief, pointing to Leon.

“Who’s this?”

Your tone was innocent, you had to know his name. Leon stared at you, afraid to let his eyes slip below your lips. He didn’t want to be disrespectful even though everyone else around didn’t care.

“I’m Leon.”

Cute. He was sheepish. Your hands let go of the chief, leaning into Leon. Leon tensed up at the feeling of you pressed against him, your lip ghosting over the shell of his ear. His eyes trailing down your smooth skin, his eyes glistening.

“Want a dance?”

No charge. Though you didn’t tell him yet, because teasing him was the best part of this all. Leon’s hand reached up, touching your upper arm gently as he nodded his head.

“Yeah, sure I don’t see why not”

An angel. He was a walking angel. Stepping off your tip toes, both your hands pulling at his arm. A few hellos left your lips as you waved to the people who whistled over at you. His hand squeezed at yours as you continued to drag him through the crowded room, the quiet hallway finally welcoming the two of you as you held open the door for him. He reached forward, letting you walk in first.

“It’s Bliss right?”

He asked as he shut the door quietly, examining your body language change at him using your stage name.

“Please don’t call me Bliss, it’s okay, just don’t call me anything.”

You spoke to him as you put your hand on your hip, pointing to the chair.

“You can get comfortable, but before you do.. You do want this right? I didn’t drag you from the boys and make you uncomfortable?”

Your genuine concern made Leon’s heart flutter, his arms being exposed as he pulled his jacket off and laid it on the arm of the chair. Leon nodded his head as his back hit the chair, surprised at how comfortable it really was.

“Thank god because I just had to see you.”

Your words came out in a string of mumbles, your leg coming up to straddle over him. The fabric of his jeans rubbed against your calf as you pressed against him, slowly just to make sure you weren’t pushing any limits. The back of your head laying onto his shoulder, his body shivering as your hair trickled over his skin.

Your hands rubbed forward, resting on your knees as you pressed your ass further into the tightness of his jeans, a groany whimper emitting from his throat. Your bottom lip slipped between your teeth as you reached down, your hands slipping over his.

“It’s okay, you can touch me.”

A breath of relief left the boys lips, his hands carefully grabbing at your waist. Your skin was softer than he imagined, his fingers brushing over the soft peach fuzz on your stomach. Your breathing was shaky, you knew he noticed because his was too. The room was getting tighter, you needed to be closer to him, and he agreed. His hands randomly squeezing at your flesh as you grinded yourself into him. Even with your skirt on, feeling his hardening cock under you made goosebumps rise to your skin, your mouth opening and your head turning to speak to him, your eyelids heavy before the door swung open.

Joe had his hand resting at his hip, his eyes going from you to Leon. Private dances were suppose to be confirmed by the boss, but this was different. You knew Joe wouldn’t understand. His tongue licking at his bottom lip.

“You’re good for the night.”

His voice was angry, and so cold. There goes your funds for tonight, now you only had your tips. You turned to Leon, shaking your head as you touched the top of his hand.

“So sorry..”

————-

Leon didn’t know why he sat waiting, all his friends left leaving him sitting in his jeep alone. His eyes closed as he laid his head back on the headrest, taking in a deep breath. He found comfort in your scent lingering on him. His eyebrows pushed together at the sounds of screaming, fixing his rear view window to see you walking out the back door, you flipping off Joe as he threw your makeup bag at you. This happens at least once a week. Leon immediately got out of his car, jogging over towards the small railing. He grabbed at the lipstick tube that had rolled to the bottom, standing up and walking towards you, his hand gently gripping at your shoulder. Your eyes shot up at him, your hand reaching to hold your chest.

“Jesus christ trying to scare a girl?”

Leon couldn’t help but chuckle as he helped you up, grabbing your makeup bag for you. His head turned to his car, his hand grabbing at the back of his neck.

“Do you want a ride?”

Like you said, an angel. You should’ve said no, but you couldn’t. It was freezing outside, and you lived all the way on the other side of the city. Leon could tell you felt bad by the way your hands held at your elbows. His hands gripping at the steering wheel, glancing over to you every once and awhile. You didn’t have the courage to tell him that you usually sleep at the club because your sister is a piece of shit and changes the locks if you’re even an hour late for rent. And you were a day late so she had the time. He stopped in front of your dark house, your head down at your knees before you it lifted up, turning to the handsome boy

“Let me stay with you, I’ll pay you.”

—————-

“There’s tons of blankets there in that closet, and there’s also lots of food in the cabinet and fridge. And if you wanna take a shower you can, my water pressure is great.”

Any normal person would’ve said no to you, especially under your circumstances. Leon’s apartment was much nicer than your house could ever be, it was a bit messy but it was alright because he was a young boy, what did you expect?

“And here, you can sleep on the bed. I’m more than comfortable on the couch I honestly pass out there most of the time anyways.”

Leon laughed as he threw his pillow down onto his small couch. You admired his laugh, the way his cheeks curled up when he smiled. The way his arm grabbed at the couch cushion made your stomach ache in the best way. You pointed to the spot next to him as you stepped in front of the TV his eyes fixated on.

“Can I sit with you?”

Leon’s body shifted, patting the spot next to him as he threw his pillow to the ground. His body radiated so much heat. Your body tensed up as his hand touched your shoulder slightly, his fingertips drawing shapes on your skin. This wasn’t normal everyday occurrence for you. Your head resting into his armpit, tilting yourself upward, his hair tickling your nose.

————

Nothing could explain how you ended up on top of Leon, his hands so scared to touch you like you were a fragile doll while your lips pressed so hungrily into his. His hands ran up and down your thighs, his grip loose. Your mouth pulled away from him, a string of spit connecting the two of you as you pushed the messy hair from his face. You pushed yourself further into his lap, your hands tugging at your shirt before you threw it to the ground. Leon stared at you in wonder, his lips still wet from your kisses not so long ago. Your head nodded at him as you reached down pulling his hands into yours, laying them on your stomach.

His hands were so shaky, but his eyes were dark, his eyelids hooded as his hands pressed into your stomach. Your eyes fluttered shut as he grabbed at your breasts, squeezing them in his hands. The innocence was being pulled from his body, his head dipping down to your chest. Your head leaned back as his soft lips wrapped around your nipple, his arm wrapping around your waist to pull you in closer to him as his tongue rubbed so roughly against the nub. A strangled moan left your lips as you ran your hands through his hair, watching as he basically breathed you in.

“That’s my good boy..”

You reached down, pulling his head from your chest to press your lips against his once again. Your legs fell from his lap, dropping to the ground as your lips pecked at the corner of his mouth. He looked so pretty, staring down as you trailed down his body, his breathing staggered as you yanked at his sweatpants. Leon’s hand hid the smile on his face as you gawked at his size, his cheeks flushing a deep red as he rubbed at his forehead.

It was mouth watering, seeing his length hard in front of your face, your hands rubbing at his base, causing his hips to lift into your hand. A giggle rose from your throat as you shook your head up at him.

“Don’t be so eager now.”

Your words were tied and slurred with lust. Your tongue pushing out of your mouth, tapping Leon’s tip against it. You closed your lips into a kiss, his precum seeping into your tastebuds. He tasted so fucking good, your eyes barely open as your hand held at what your mouth couldnt take. Who knew the rookie had such a big dick. The thought made you giggle around his cock, causing him to hiss in sensitivity as you began to bob your head. Leon’s hands held at your hair, his mouth open as he watched you suck in his cock.

“Oh fuck.. that’s so good..”

The boy whined out as your hand rested down to his knee, your eyes watering as you finally let your throat take all of him in. It’s like his cock was made to be down your throat, your tongue laying flat as you swallowed him.

“Wait, stop.. no, don’t stop- ngh..”

Leon’s fingers fisted up in your hair as you pulled yourself from his cock, your lips glistening as you tried catching at your breath. You kissed his tip, making him jolt before you stood, tugging your shorts down along with your panties, Your back turned to face Leon, your hips jutting out as you looked back, grabbing at his cock. You didn’t even have to say a word, his hand pushing yours away while his other pushed your folds apart, a moan pouring from his lips as he pushed himself into you, your eyes squeezed shut from how good just the tip of him felt inside of you, your back arching as you sunk yourself down in one swift motion, a squeal leaving your lips. Your hand shot to your mouth to try and conceal the loud yelp that would’ve followed. Leon grabbed at your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as you squeezed around him.

“Jus’ don’t move..”

Leon whined as he squeezed his eyes shut, licking his lips. You nodded at him but your body didn’t understand, your hips rising then falling down onto him again, a whine leaving both of you. Your pace was steady, his hands rubbing up your back as you bounced on his cock so good.

“Fuck you’re squeezing me so good.”

Leon cried out as he rutted his hips up into you, his whines encouraging you to move your hips faster but a loud cry ripped from your throat as he bumped at your cervix.

“Fuck- Le, cock to big..”

You whined as you grinded into him, your eyes stinging with tears as you reached back, grabbing at his arms. His heavy breathing made you continue on, your thighs squeezing together as he held at your forearms. You pushed your head to the side, watching him from the corner of your eye, his lip between his teeth as his head leaned against the comfy couch cushion.

“Feel good? Tell me how good it feels baby”

You spoke back to him, your body jolting forward as he thrusted up into you, his hands grabbing at your waist as he apologized, he finally gained the confidence to meet your hips with every bounce, your vision growing more blurry every time his pelvis smacked against your ass. The sound of skin smacking and heavy breathing echoed through the apartment, Leon let out a loud moan as he stopped your hips, his breathing heavy as he tried to calm himself down.

“Gonna cum in you, slow down..”

Leon whimpered as you turned your back to look at him, your thighs shaking slightly as you frowned at the boy. Your stomach was throbbing, the rubber band ready to snap in your stomach started to unravel the longer he stalled you there.

“Jesus christ..”

He whispered out as he let go of your hips, his palm shaping perfectly to the small of your back he helped you regain your pace. There it was, that tightness in your stomach again. Your mouth falling into an O shape as your walls spasmed around him, making him cry out, his nails leaving little crescent’s in your skin as he shot himself into you. Your eyes were sealed shut, a small “why” leaving your lips as Leon pulled you off of him, helping you stand. Your eyes fluttered open to stare at the perfect man in front of you, his face flushed red and his hair a mess.

“Thank you.”

He mumbled as he leaned down, kissing your lips softly. He pulled you so tightly into him, holding you to his chest as you squeezed him. He didn’t want you to walk out and leave just like it meant nothing. You looked up at him, kissing his chin before he lifted you up, making you squeal grabbing at his arms.

“Leon!”

You yelled as he threw you down onto the bed, lying himself on top of you.

“What’s your name?”

He mumbled into your skin as he twirled your hair around his finger. You stared up at the ceiling, your fingers dancing over the muscles on his back.

“Y/N. Nice to meet you, Leon.”

[writing-for-life]

”But He Loved, He Should Have Been Forgiven”

About Free Will, Responsibility and Agency: Lucifer and Dream as Foils

Did I finally jump on the Lucidream bandwagon? No, don’t panic (or be eternally disappointed 🤣), because that quote is actually from “Murder Mysteries”, a short story that also exists in comic form (drawn by P. Craig Russell). And while it isn’t officially part of the Sandman Universe (or even DC), I always saw it as somewhat of a blueprint of how NG (re)imagined Lucifer’s Fall. There is enough in Lucifer’s characterisation in the Sandman that makes it quite plausible as a sort of backstory, especially since it was written when the Sandman was still in full swing. But more about that later…

I’ve long wanted to write a meta about Lucifer and Dream as narrative foils, and since I’ve finally started clearing out my drafts, this was a good one to do right now because we are currently discussing “A Hope in Hell” in our community (join us!). Although I have to admit that this one is rather about what transpires when Lucifer decides to abandon their realm in Season of Mists...

When Lucifer learns of Dream's impending return to Hell to finally release Nada, it solidifies their own resolve to leave (I use they/them pronouns because of the show although comics!Lucifer is male presenting apart from the plumbing and also referred to as he/him). By the time Dream arrives, Hell is nearly deserted, with Lucifer basically expelling its last inhabitants. Lucifer tells Dream they rebelled long ago, and that they are not willing to “pay for that one action” anymore. And the most profound truth they share with Dream is the nature of ultimate freedom—the freedom to leave. This is also brought up many issues later, when Lucifer says to Delirium, "I told him, you know. I told him years ago… I told him that I owed him much for having given me the impetus to go. I told him there was always freedom, even the ultimate freedom. The freedom to leave. You don't have to stay anywhere forever.”

And that’s just… ouch. Not just because it so clearly shows that Morpheus also could have left had he just chosen to (then again, he wouldn’t be Morpheus if he had, and even more “then again”: he did in certain ways), but also because we generally see Lucifer as an antagonistic force. But here, they express something akin to gratefulness. And maybe even a hint of regret that Morpheus didn’t also choose the same way. They feel almost sorry for him (my guess is they actually do, and I can never forget their face at The Wake). But what do you do if even freedom feels like a cage?

All of this ties in neatly with the crucial truth about Hell Lucifer reveals: People are there because they choose to be (and that Hell doesn’t need to be a physical place: We can make our own—any place, even in our own minds).

...this is where you wanted to be.

Lucifer explains to Dream:

"Why do they blame me for all their little failings? They use my name as if I spend my entire day sitting on their shoulders, forcing them to commit acts they would otherwise find repulsive. 'The Devil made me do it.' I have never made one of them do anything. Never. They live their own tiny lives. I do not live their lives for them.”

He continues, “and then they die, and they come here (having transgressed against what they believed to be right), and expect us to fulfil their desire for pain and retribution. I don't make them come here. They talk of me going around and buying souls, like a fishwife come market day, never stopping to ask themselves why. I need no souls. And how can anyone own a soul? No.

They belong to themselves… they just hate to face up to it.”

Which brings me to one of the most important messages (one of many) of the Sandman: People must take responsibility (and in this particular case not only for their lives but also for their afterlives, which is also a recurring theme). Each person's soul is their own, and no one can take that away. Paradoxically (or maybe not), as Lucifer abandons their own responsibilities, they urge people to take responsibility for themselves: You can drop said responsibilities, with all that entails, as long as you also take responsibility for the fallout.

So what about the wider question of free will then?

Let’s look at Lucifer's rebellion and fall for that, because both raise a lot of questions. Dream tells Lucifer that he remembers them as passionate, and Lucifer responds, “I cared about so many things. I suppose that was why everything began to go wrong. You know… I still wonder how much of it He planned. How much of it He knew in advance. I thought I was rebelling. I thought I was defying His rule. No… I was merely fulfilling another tiny segment of His great and powerful plan.”

And this brings me right to NG’s short story “Murder Mysteries”, which isn’t really officially part of the Sandman Universe, but also… it totally is 🤣. In it, pre-fall Lucifer witnesses the destruction of an angel who killed another angel they loved. Raguel (the angel formerly tasked with said destruction who now walks on earth, coincidentally mentioned in the panel above as one who might also have rebelled) narrates, “‘That was not right. That was not just.’ Perhaps Saraquael was the first to love, but Lucifer was the first to shed tears."

Later, it is revealed that God orchestrated this situation to push Lucifer towards rebellion. God needed an adversary to run Hell and says, “Lucifer must brood on the unfairness of Saraquael's destruction. And that—amongst other things—will precipitate him into certain actions. Poor sweet Lucifer. His way will be the hardest of all my children; for there is a part he must play in the drama that is to come, and it is a grand role.”

Lucifer was basically set up by God, and this somewhat revisionist interpretation of their rebellion and fall opens up larger questions about free will, agency and destiny.

Because although Lucifer's actions were influenced by God, they still carried them out and are therefore fully responsible for them. And by choosing to abandon Hell, Lucifer was taking responsibility for their own life. They faced a choice: remain in Hell as a shadow of their former self, or move on and make peace.

This fragile peace is illustrated at the end of "A Season of Mists," when Lucifer and an old man are conversing on a beach. The old man, despite having lost everyone he loved, remarks that any God who can create such beautiful sunsets couldn't be all bad. After the man leaves, Lucifer admits (basically to God), “He's got a point. The sunsets are bloody marvelous, you old bastard. Satisfied?”

And in a way, even Lucifer comes to terms with their past once they take responsibility for it.

In a way, this mirrors Dream’s arc to a tee. One could certainly argue that he was set on his path by forces outwith his control: Whatever had to happen in cosmic terms was always bigger than Dream. The Fates also held a grudge against him and Orpheus, for more than one reason. Orpheus did make the Furies cry, and they never forgave him for that. Crucially though, he was also responsible for his own actions and carried them out. Only that Dream’s choice was ultimately a different one—or was it truly? Because what is the exact definition of “walking away”? He certainly did not abandon his realm like Lucifer because he ensured it was taken care of. There is no devil-may-care (no pun intended) attitude, because even when choosing death, Morpheus does care about his realm and the dreamers. Deeply.

It is the sole reason why the ending we get is the ending we get, and why we have Daniel as Dream in the end. And while Lucifer takes responsibility for their own life, Morpheus takes responsibility for his own death. But both Lucifer and Morpheus faced a choice: remain on their paths as shadows of their former selves, or move on and make peace. And both chose the latter.

And one takeaway for us, as the readers, might be that if we find ourselves in an intolerable situation, we can always walk away, even if the price may be high. This brings us back to the theme of freedom:

The price of freedom is taking responsibility for our lives, even if we haven't been fully in control of them. The freedom to walk away might not be the ultimate freedom, as Lucifer suggests, but it is significant.

Free will in the Sandman is a topic of debate, and I tangentially wrote about it before:

Destiny carries a book that contains everything that will happen to us, all there was, is and will be. Most of all though, it contains what must happen. One could say that in this universe, there is a strong element of predestination involved. However, complaining about a lack of free will and just pointing towards Destiny’s book also misses the point:

In the end, our lives are always our own (which is mentioned several times, directly or in a roundabout way: in Façade, in Song of Orpheus, in Brief Lives, in The Kindly Ones, in The Wake).

Your life and your death are your own

Some of us might have more to overcome than others, but the sooner we accept our unique challenges (which is not the same as being passive), the more we will focus on what we can change—or what we can meet with forgiveness and (self-)compassion.

Destiny and freedom as opposite sides of the coin matter far less than what we do with them…

[pimpedoutgreenears]

Back before season 5 aired, I really wanted to write a fic about Demetri and Eli dealing with their shit while Miguel was in Mexico. I had the vision of them remotely helping Johnny and Robby find Miguel, but also strengthening their relationship through therapy, because let's face it, someone in this show needs a therapy arc. And ofc they'd be going to a couple's therapist because Demetri let Hawk set up the appointment, and that's what made sense to him. And there would have been a bunch of her just objectively looking at the karate wars and being like, wtf? But I never got very far into writing it, and at this point I figure I won't ever go back to finish it. But, I really liked my opening scene, so I figured that I'd throw it into the void here so it doesn't live and die in my drafts.

It’s dark in the arcade, and, on an unconscious level, Demetri is aware that what they say about losing one sense making the rest stronger is indeed correct. He knows because he can smell the sweat around him, hear his own heart thudding over the screaming about finishing him, and feel the tension in his arm that tells him that it’s about to snap.

“Eli, stop! It’s me! It’s me!” words that should mean everything, but they don’t make the hand twisting his arm back release him.

No mercy, right?

He knows his arm is going to be broken— can see it in flashes, can almost prematurely feel the pain, like it’s a phantom of something that’s happened before.

“Stop! I’ll go, I’ll go!” But Eli’s not going to stop.

Eli is going to break his arm. Eli is going to leave him here. Eli isn’t his best friend anymore.

The smell, the screaming, the tension in his arm— it floods his senses. He knows what’s next. Somehow, he knows what’s next.

First the begging, then the…

SNAP

Demetri’s eyes open, and it’s not dark anymore, but his heart is still pounding as his hand darts out from under his blanket, searching for Eli on the air mattress beside his bed.

Demetri supposes that from a logical standpoint it might not make sense that his first reaction to a dream about his best friend breaking his arm (a thing that very much did happen and isn’t at all imaginary) is to reach out said appendage to find said best friend, but he can’t argue with the relief that fills his body when his hand wraps securely around Eli’s inner elbow.

Eli doesn’t flinch and instead reaches up to wrap his hand around Demetri’s elbow (or at least the spot right under it). “Bad dream?” he asks, tone already soft and knowing.

It’s not like Demetri has nightmares every night, but it’s often enough that Eli knows the signs by now. They’ve been living like they share lungs all summer.

“Yeah,” Demetri admits as he takes Eli in. The hand that isn’t holding his arm is holding his phone, a telltale sign that he’s been awake and waiting on Demetri to follow suit. “I’d tell you about it, but frankly they’re just boring at this point. You’d think the karate wars would have given me more interesting material.”

Eli’s thumb runs gently over his skin, a silent comfort before he says, “Yeah, who’d have thought trauma would be so boring.” It’s a half-hearted response, whether because he wants to say something more helpful or because he worries the dream is about him, Demetri doesn’t know.

He figures they’ll both be happier not knowing. They can save the honestly for therapy.

He switches to a new train of thought, even as his hand stays wrapped around Eli (He’ll let go when he’s ready, when he’s had his fill of the reassurance of his best friend’s skin— which is only a creepy thought if one voices it, which Demetri does not). “Any updates from the rescue team?”

Eli sighs, keeping his hold on Demetri even as he looks at his phone with a frown. He’s looking at a map, a red dot on it that represents Sensei Lawrence and Robby. “No, but they’ve been stopped at a bar for a while.”

Demetri can tell that he’s trying to hide the anxiety he feels surrounding their missing friend, so he squeezes his elbow and then does what he does best— commentary. “Oh, is it time for Sensei Lawrence’s breakfast beer already? I hear he can’t drive without one.”

Eli sighs again. Demetri wishes it was because of his mean joke, but he knows it’s not. “They should have found Miguel by now.”

Worry fills Demetri’s stomach too, but he refuses to humor it. For once he doesn’t want to be the one talking about all of the bad things that could be happening. “Come on, man, those two? We didn’t exactly send the dream team on this one,” Demetri says before realizing that probably wasn’t as reassuring as he meant it to be. “What I mean is, you have two capable guys who are… very emotionally constipated. When you factor in stops for family drama, they’re making good time.”

“We should have gone,” Hawk says, not for the first time since they’d found out that Miguel had left the country. It’d taken a lot for Eli not to jump on his bike and go. Demetri is pretty sure that had they not been together when they found out, Eli would be in Mexico too.

“Hey, we’ve been over this,” Demetri says softly, squeezing his friend’s arm again. “We can’t all just run to Mexico, and Sensei Lawrence beat us to the punch. Plus, with Miguel dealing with the whole dad thing… Well, we’re not exactly the father figure he’s looking for.”

Eli sighs again but this time in acceptance. “I just hate waiting.” Demetri watches as Eli looks at the dot again. It still isn’t moving.

“I know; me too,” Demetri admits before forcing a smile. “But hey, at least we get to play tech guy on operation ‘Star-crossed Fathers.’”

“That name sucks worse than the last one,” Eli says, a small smile forming.

“The right one will come, my friend. Mark my words.”

[lustlovehart]

Kalim is such a cutie! I love him already, I’m so excited for your scarabia chapter. No rush though, take all the time you need! I love your writing and good writing takes time.

Oh and also would Kalim potentially bring Y/n into the lamp with him? Wouldn’t that be nice, or maybe not. Maybe Y/n would die soon since Y/n doesn’t work like how genies work. I’d also like to give Kalim a big big hug, since he’s such a silly patooter.

—🦦 anon

Kalim is so fun to write, because while everyone else is all dark and vicious, you look over to him and he’s sparkling with joy… too much joy… It’s scarier than being locked in a room with everyone else. Ahhh! I’m happy you’re excited! Hopefully, it will come sooner than Heartslaybul has! The draft I have for it is enticing (Or I like to believe it is)

The reason why Heartslaybul is taking so long is because I didn’t draft a plot when I began writing it, so I had to make a storyline based on Riddles and then build off of that, plus there’s five of them. But! the good thing is that I’ve learned from my consequences, so the rest of the Chapter for each group has a general plot drafted all I need to do is write and it’ll come eout sooner!

I won’t delve too deep into it as to avoid spoilers but! There are lamps involved to keep it vague. I like to think Kalim really does want to bring you in there with him, not only is there no limit to what he can do inside there, but he can essentially make whatever it is you want, he’s determined to make your happy dreams come true! It’s scary if he does actually bring you in there, as now, you’re stuck inside an enclosed space where you can’t leave without him letting you, literally, you’ve searched but there is no exit or entrance without him.

If you accept it, you’ll live with luxury and everything you could want (other than having alone time)! But if you don’t, you could always try convincing him with hugs and kisses, though it might backfire as he could confuse it with you loving it here.

Be careful when you hug him, unless you want all the love he has for you to come out and overwhelm you (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞. You go in completely fine and come out wheezing as he literally squeezes all the air out of you.

[peony-pearl]

Homestead

Here is the fic in it’s entirety without all the readmores; thanks again to everyone who kept up with this! This fic wasn’t meant to happen at all and was all written from the top of my head the moment I included Niwa and the kids lmao, so if anything consider this a rough draft for Ozai and Niwa’s story. It’s not perfect and there are some inconsistencies but I’ll tend to those as the main story begins to develop more ^^

****

A healed Azula having her first violent outburst in years after finding Ozai in his hiding spot in the Earth Kingdom. She has him pinned, aiming her hand that is popping with charged lightning right at his heart.

‘Beg for my forgiveness.’ She seethes as Zuko panics behind her.

Ozai remains calm.

Years have passed, long enough to realize what he did to them.

He does not deserve to even beg. He closes his eyes.

Azula’s own eyes are overcome with tears. The lightning is at its zenith.

But she is not her father. She releases the lighting into the air with a curse.

****

Azula trembles. She could hit him; she could hurt him, but she remains frozen. Fire and lightning boil within her blood. She feels Zuko grab her arm, pulling her away clumsily before she can hurt him - or herself.

“Let go,” she hisses softly to her older brother. Ozai remains still, only moving to open his eyes and to heave a sigh, releasing his pent up breath and muscles. There’s an added layer to his relief, one that he dreads them learning - he must convince them to leave. “What I did to you-”

“Don’t,” Azula snarled. “Don’t you dare say a word. What do you know? What do you know of what you did to us?! Do you even care?!”

Ozai swallows; his gut turns. Azula is finding her footing again. She is no longer the girl that cowered at his raised voice. Nor is Zuko the worried, wet-behind-the-ears Fire Lord. They have both grown in stature and demeanor, and have left all traces of Ozai’s influence behind, leaving two grown royals in place of Fire Lord Ozai: a deplorable, angry warlord trying to live up to a legacy larger than the ego he boasted.

An ego he himself had shed - but it was the ego that had bruised, burned, and shunned these two children.

Zuko tried to keep Azula from growling into Ozai’s face, looking every inch like a dragon. The first daughter born to the Fire Nation Royal Family in three generations had more fight in her than every male that preceded her.

“I hope you rot,” Azula spat. “I hope you die alone,” she said, smoke billowing from her mouth.

Zuko, trying to keep Azula from doing something she might regret, hears a twig snap; he turns around.

Ozai’s stomach plummets as Azula continues to berate him.

“Chen?!”

A voice cuts through Azula’s train of thought; she realizes Ozai is grimacing and looking away from all of them. Azula turns, seeing that Zuko is already frozen in place.

A woman stands in the path leading from the wooded area. Small in stature, with thick brown hair and olive eyes. She carries a basket full of finds from the land around them, pears, apples, mushroom and herbs. A swathe of cloth wraps around her chest to carry something snug against her chest; wisps of a baby’s hair peek out of the bindings.

Next to her, a small girl stands, holding a jackalope that is poised to be that night’s supper. Despite her small stature, she bears an expression that is very similar to Ozai’s when he is aggravated; she has the woman’s thick hair, but it’s black like Ozai’s.

The woman puts the basket down on the ground, supporting the baby bundled against her.

“Chen, who are these people?!”

Zuko and Azula stare at Ozai, whose face has become a nauseous green.

****

“Chen?”

The name blurts out of Azula’s mouth as Ozai doesn’t meet her eyes. Instead, for the first time since their reunion, Ozai uses force, but only to move past Azula so he can meet the concerned woman, who rushes forward to touch Ozai’s shoulder. “What is happening?”

“It’s alright, Niwa,” he says.

Niwa looks at the visiting siblings cautiously. “I don’t buy that.”

“It’s fine; I promise. Come on; let’s get the kids inside and start dinner and we can sort this out.”

Niwa stares at him, concern written in her brow. “Chen.”

But Ozai offers her a smile before gently cradling the wispy hair of the newborn strapped to her chest. Ozai looks to Zuko and Azula. “Niwa is a skilled cook; her roast jackalope is the best this side of the Earth Kingdom. You’re welcome to join us.”

Azula’s lip curled. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Zuko remained silent. He turned to the small girl slowly making her way towards Ozai and Niwa, holding tight to the jackalope in her hands. Her eyes don’t deviate from Zuko; despite her timid demeanor, she does not back down. Once she walks past Zuko, she rushes towards Ozai, who allows her to cling to him.

Azula bristles.

“Come now,” Ozai announces, nodding towards the house. “Let’s talk about this over a good meal. Or if you don’t have the time, perhaps you can visit again sometime soon.”

Azula watches as Zuko joins her.

They watch Ozai’s hand gently lead the small girl into the home.

Azula stomps forward towards the house.

****

It was tense inside. The small girl bustled in the kitchen without a word as she skillfully prepared all of the smaller ingredients for dinner. Ozai had taken the jackalope outside to butcher it. Zuko had all but held Azula in place to keep her from going to find where Ozai kept butchering materials - she had half a mind to gut her father.

Niwa returned from hers and Ozai’s bedroom, having taken a few moments to nurse and change the baby. She joined her daughter in the kitchen as Zuko and Azula sat at the table.

Zuko noted Azula’s anger at boiling point. He knew it was time to make peaceful engagements.

“… I’m sorry for any concern miss… Niwa?” He said. Niwa turned to look his way and she nodded, still on guard.

“Do you two know Chen?”

Azula’s frown deepened.

Zuko folded his hands, shrugging.“Yeah. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen him.”

Niwa folded her arms, leaning back against a counter. “Then maybe you can tell me why I met him in the sorry state he was in. Beaten and blacked out and half drowned in the forest out there. We’re a ways away from a town, so I wasn’t sure exactly how he got here.”

Zuko pondered for a moment. “That I can’t tell you.”

Azula’s laser-like gaze pierced through Niwa. “Looks like you’re not complaining that he’s around.”

Niwa met Azula’s glare. “No; I suppose not. I helped him get back on his feet, but for a while he couldn’t do much; whatever happened to him really took it out of him. When he recovered, he helped me rebuild my gardens that I’d used to feed both of us. It’s only been me for years so suddenly having two people took a bite out of my reserves.” Niwa smiled. “But then we became three, and now four.”

“Are you married?” Zuko asked. Niwa laughed.

“Not officially. Things just kind of happened; we’ve never really talked about it. When I realized I was expecting,” she said, patting her daughter’s head, “he just kind of said ‘all right then’ and stayed with me. He just… accepted it. He farmed when I couldn’t, learned how to cook, hunt, fish, butcher; he likes to stay busy. I’ve noticed when he doesn’t have a list of chores he becomes distant. When Chiyo here was born, we’re so displaced that getting a midwife was almost impossible for when the time came; and yet he never panicked; it’s like he runs on that chaos. Even so, he’s the one who’s put both of our children into my arms when they’ve arrived; he was the same way when Katsu arrived three weeks ago.”

Azula stood with a furious scrape of her chair, which clattered to the floor. Niwa jumped, but quickly moved to stand in front of Chiyo; but Azula wasn’t interested in moving towards them. Instead, she headed for the door that led outside, slamming it so loud that the trio still inside waited to hear if Katsu would begin crying.

“What did I say?!” Niwa asked as the pressure in the room deflated. She looked to Zuko. His eyes told her there was something he knew about this situation.

“You know him, don’t you?”

Zuko took a deep breath.

“My name is Fire Lord Zuko.”

Niwa’s mouth went slack as Zuko continued.

“That was my sister, Princess Azula.”

Chiyo held tight to her mother. Zuko thought he saw a smaller version of himself clinging to Ursa, who now resided back at the palace with her husband, Noren, and daughter, Kiyi. Zuko was slowly taking it in that he had more siblings.

Zuko looked to Niwa. “Chen isn’t his name.”

Becoming rigid, Niwa braced herself for more information.

“How do you know?”

Zuko felt a twist in his heart, almost as though he was cursing her with this knowledge she hasn’t asked for. “Because your children’s father is also my father; and my sister’s father.”

Niwa held tight to Chiyo. If her the man in her life was the father of the current Fire Lord, then…

The air escaped Niwa’s lungs as she stumbled back, holding onto the counter; out of her mouth escaped his true name: “Ozai”.

****

The door to the shed slammed open. Hanging on the walls were multiple hides, furs, and horns that had been harvested from the game in the woods.

Azula had no more tremble in her. Now she was painfully still as she loomed in the doorway. Ozai looked up as he quartered the jackalope for cooking.

He didn’t cower.

Azula walked inside, her eyes darkened with hatred as she approached his work table.

“I think you’ll like jackalope,” Ozai said. “It’s robust and sweet; but it takes a good hand to cook it or else it gets tough. It’s not as forgiving as komodo chicken.”

“I’m not here to talk about the stupid jackalope,” Azula grumbled. Ozai continued working.

“I figured. I just thought I might make conversation. Did you speak to Niwa?”

“Niwa? Your perfect little happy ending? With your perfect little babies?”

Ozai didn’t speak as he masterfully carved silverskin from a slab of meat.

Azula’s hands became fists. “It must be nice to just forget everyone you hurt when-”

“You think I forgot you and your brother?”

“You left!”

“You left me in that prison.”

“You were going to destroy the Earth Kingdom!”

“And you were going to be Fire Lord under my rule.”

“You used me.”

“You’re my child. I was giving your instructions.”

“You were going to make a CHILD the Fire Lord!”

“Funny… Zuko is only two years older than you and he’s Fire Lord. By the way, how is your uncle?”

“Don’t change the subject. Uncle has nothing to do with this.”

Ozai dunked a cleaver into a pot of water. He wiped his hands on a towel as he looked towards Azula as she continued. “You left your cell and found a whole new family.”

Ozai sighed, slinging the towel over his shoulder.

“You’re right. I did.”

Azula’s eyes flared, and she rushed forward to pin Ozai against the wall, multiple horns and antlers clattering down onto the floor.

“WHY WEREN’T WE GOOD ENOUGH?!” Azula screamed. “WHY WEREN’T-”

“I LEFT BECAUSE EITHER I DIED IN THAT CELL AS OZAI OR I DIED A DIFFERENT MAN.”

Azula’s screams withered. She stared at Ozai as he finally showed an emotion beyond indifference.

“I never meant to find what I have. I never set out to replace you and Zuko. That’s not the point of my life now. Niwa found me, and I… I had planned on leaving. I had planned on learning how to hunt and gather effectively before I struck back out on my own. But it… never happened.”

Azula’s grip on Ozai’s collar loosened.

Ozai felt the hand that had scarred Zuko tingle.

“… I found a life beyond the one that I carved from my desire to appease my father.”

Azula stepped back. Ozai finally looked to his daughter.

“What I felt the moment Chiyo was born, when my hands brought her into this world and all I wanted to do was protect her… it’s what I should have felt for you and Zuko. Back then I wanted to be a good father; but now I know that my own definition of a good father back then was something I never want to be again.”

Ozai stood up straight, ready to make his case known.

“Azula; I’m sorry.”

The words struck Azula’s heart like bramble.

“I’m sorry that I… I put so much pain and fear onto you. I owe you and your brother more words than I can ever say, and yet words don’t matter for what I’ve done. I’m sorry.”

Azula glowered at the former Fire Lord as he poured his heart out. She was all too aware of his false words to be convinced.

“I don’t forgive you,” she seethed.

Ozai’s expression remained neutral; he did his best to blink away the small, dewy tears forming on his eyelashes.

“A wise choice,” he said, his voice pitifully rough with the emotion he couldn’t hide. Azula watched as he returned to butchering the jackalope.

“I’m getting Zuko and we’re leaving,” Azula said. “We’re not staying for dinner, we’re not going to play nice. Whatever this is… I hope Niwa wakes up and realizes the mistake she’s made. I hope she takes those kids far away from you.”

The knife in Ozai’s hand finally fumbled as Azula spoke. He took a deep breath, letting her speak.

“And I hope everyone you meet from here on out sees you for who and what you truly are. A sad, pathetic excuse for a man.”

The silence that fell between them was nearly as suffocating as when Azula spit her barbed words. Ozai continued his chore as Azula turned away to leave.

But the door opened before she could reach it. Niwa stood, staring inside as Ozai peered up to her.

He could tell something was wrong.

“Niwa?” He asked. She stepped inside, looking at Azula.

“I’m sorry, may I speak with him in private?”

Azula shrugged. “You can do whatever you want with him. I’m getting my brother and leaving.”

“Wait, please-” Niwa reached for Azula but the princess avoided the woman’s grasp.

“Ask him. Ask him why we’re here-”

“I don’t have to.” Niwa said, looking at Ozai. “Your brother already told me.”

Finally Ozai’s calm shell fractured. He froze, looking at Niwa, who’s lips trembled. She opened her mouth to speak; a moment passed before she could find her voice.

“I’d had a feeling that my children were not your first, Ozai. But I could never really justify asking you such a personal question; even after all these years.”

Azula blinked; she stared at Niwa as Ozai realized he was caught.

Ozai cleared his throat. “… So now you know.”

Niwa’s eyes flooded with tears. “Your son’s eye.”

A painful silence passed before Ozai gripped the wrist of the hand that had caused that burn. “… Yes. I did that.”

But how? Niwa looked at Ozai, having seen what she believed to be every side of him over the past seven years. How he had cared for her, tended to her at her most vulnerable, made her believe he only had their childrens’ best interests at heart. How he held Chiyo and Katsu, and the ways he spoke to them and how Chiyo found true comfort in entrusting her father with her protection’; how Katsu was now beginning to recognize his father’s voice and had started to smile when he heard him.

But now she was learning that her childrens’ father was a man who continued the horrors of his fathers, passing all of that fear and hatred and pain onto his own older children.

“You told me your name was Chen. How long were you going to lie to me?”

“I never meant for it to be a lie,” Ozai quickly explained. “I… I was never expecting this to become my life.”

“… Are you happy here?”

“Niwa, of course I am. We have all of this, each other, our children; Niwa I’ve kept the name because I… I don’t… I’m no longer Ozai.”

“Camelephant dung,” Azula hissed. “Don’t even-”

“I’m not. That man is dead. I would bury him myself if I could.”

Niwa wrung her hands together. Ozai stepped forward.

“I would never hurt you, Niwa.”

Trembling, the woman looked up to him, unsure of what to believe. She opened her mouth-

“Chiyo! Chiyo!!”

The three in the shed jumped, turning towards the house as Zuko rushed along the path leading to the woods. Niwa bolted towards the Fire Lord, followed by Azula and Ozai.

“What happening?!” Niwa asked. Zuko pointed into the woods.

“Chiyo came outside to check on you, but then I saw her run into the woods; at first I didn’t think much of it since I’m sure she’s familiar here and I didn’t want to leave Katsu alone, but-”

Zuko pointed, and billowing from the trees was a ghastly blue mist.

****

Niwa wasted no time running into the wooded area to try and find her daughter - but just as soon as she ran inside, she came tumbling back into the clearing from between another set of trees. She realized what had happened and she darted back into the mist, only to emerge elsewhere in the clearing. She began to panic.

“Chiyo!!” She screamed as Ozai rushed to her. “Chiyo where are you?!”

No answer came, and Niwa turned to Ozai. “What… What are we going to do?!”

“Remain calm,” Ozai said, but Niwa’s fear quickly devolved into anger.

“You want ME to be calm RIGHT NOW, OZAI?!”

Ozai winced, getting used to hearing her say his real name. Zuko approached them, kneeling down to get a look at the mist.

“I’m guessing this isn’t a regular occurrence,” he said, watching the tendrils of smoke wisp around his hand.

“It’s not; this is the first time I’ve seen this,” Niwa said. Azula approached her, for once looking at her without the judgment of her father placed upon her.

“Do you have anything like a messenger hawk? It could fly above the trees.”

“It could, but how is anyone going to get through?” Niwa asked. Azula smiled.

“Again, they’re going to go over the trees.”

Niwa, confused, looked to Zuko, who smiled.

The town may have been a three-days trip on foot, but on an air bison, it was heavily reduced to twenty minutes. When Zuko and Azula had received information on the potential whereabouts of their father, it was Avatar Aang, along with his fiancee Katara, who had dropped them off and mentioned they would be back at nightfall if they hadn’t heard anything. Niwa offered parchment and a brush for Zuko to write to his friends.

Ozai appeared… nervous, to say the least, at the aspect of seeing the avatar again.

But at the rate things were going, it was possible that the only person who could fix quickly this was Aang.

The hawk took flight in the full, bright sunlight of the afternoon, and arrived as daylight became rustic and golden. The hawk was intercepted, and the letter was delivered to where the Avatar was staying - which wasn’t hard to find, as Appa was happily munching on some hay just outside of the parlor of an inn where Aang was conversing with the townspeople.

“Avatar Aang,” the delivery man greeted, “I have correspondence for you.”

Aang blinked, looking to Katara. “How does anyone know I’m here?” He asked, just as he unfurled the parchment. “Oh; it’s from Zuko.”

“Is everything alright?” Katara asked, immediately standing. Aang’s eyes continued to scroll through the letter.

“We need to go.”

Katara did her best to peel Aang away from his audience as quickly as she could. Within moments they were up in the air as the wind sifted through Appa’s fur. Katara scanned Zuko’s letter.

“Of all days for a spirit to show up,” she said.

“Good thing we stayed!” Aang smiled as they breezed through the atmosphere. They watched the forest canopy below them zoom by, and Aang shuddered.

“Yeah; something big is going on in there.”

“Look!” Katara pointed towards the mist streaking through the gaps of the leaves. “It’s some kind of smoke…”

“Let’s touch base with Zuko and Azula,” Aang said, flicking at Appa’s reigns to signal that they needed to hurry. Appa growled and quickened his pace, soon leading them to the small clearing where they’d dropped the royals off. They crested over the trees, seeing a small audience awaiting them.

As Appa landed, Aang and Katara joined Zuko and Azula, where a distressed Niwa’s fears were being subdued.

“Niwa,” Zuko started, “These are my friends, Avatar Aang and Master Waterbender Katara.”

Niwa sighed. “The Avatar, I can’t believe how lucky I am. I suppose being related to the Fire Lord has it’s perks?”

Aang looked at Katara, then to Zuko. “Related?” He asked. Zuko smiled nervously.

“So uhh; I need to tell you guys something.”

Azula peeked out from behind Zuko. “Our dad’s here.”

“O-Ozai?! Where? Is he the reason this is happening?!”

Niwa quickly intervened to quell the Avatar’s own worries. “No, no it’s not him! Please, my daughter; she’s lost in the mist!”

Katara maintained a hand on her waterskin. “Ma’am if Ozai is here then we need to consider him a threat; he escaped prison years ago and-”

“He’s my daughter’s father, he is NOT a threat!” Niwa snapped, her voice echoing over the livestock surrounding them.

Aang and Katara looked at Niwa, their jaws slack.

“The woods are usually peaceful. I’ve lived in this space my whole life. It was built and maintained by my great-great grandparents. I have never seen a spirit in my whole life. But for Chiyo to just run into the mist? I’m so worried; I’ve never had anything like this happen before.”

Aang heard the door to the house close. He became rigid as he recognized the form exiting the home.

Ozai.

The former Fire Lord walked down the path, holding something strapped to his chest. He noticed Aang, and even his own stride faltered.

Niwa turned to him. “Ozai! The Avatar is… Oh.”

It hit her that they had met.

Still, Ozai walked forward with Katsu wrapped against his chest. He looked at the younger man, now much taller. Nearly reaching Ozai’s own height.

“Avatar Aang,” he said. “If anyone can help, it’s you.”

Gripping his staff, Aang’s face darkened. “You’re lucky it’s a kid in there and not you,” he said, suddenly taken back by the fact that there was an infant strapped to Ozai’s chest as Katsu shuffled within the cloth.

Niwa, needing a distraction, took Katsu into her arms, holding him tight as she escorted Aang to the entrance of the forest. Along the way, he noticed some interesting carvings in some of the stones along the path.

“Those are airbender markings,” he said, noticing the swirl patterns. Niwa looked down, smiling.

“My grandfather laid this path after he married my grandmother. She started going blind after an infection, so he made a tactile path leading her around the grounds. Each path has a specific symbol. I didn’t know they were of Airbender origin.”

Aang opened his mouth to mention something, but he remembered there wasn’t much time to talk. Instead, he approached the entrance of the forest.

“I don’t know if any of the landmarks I know will be in there, but if you come across the well, there’s a compass at the base. It will help guide you,” Niwa said.

Ozai approached them, unwrapping the bindings used to hold Katsu. “I want to go.”

“Absolutely not,” Aang spat.

Niwa wrung her hands together as she pleaded. “Please, Avatar?”

“If anyone goes, it’s you,” Aang said.

Ozai frowned. “My son is too small to be without his mother for too long.”

“Can’t you change him?” Aang crossed his arms.

Ozai remained placid. “Of course; but I cannot feed him.”

Aang stuttered. “Maybe I should do this alone either way-”

“Chiyo will not recognize you,” Ozai said.

“Aang.” Zuko’s voice piped up. “I can go with you two.”

Azula stared at her brother in furious horror.

Aang wasn’t happy, but if Zuko was willing to back him up, he agreed to the situation.

“After this, you’re going back to prison, Ozai,” Aang announced. “I’ll see to it myself.”

Ozai looked into the Airbender’s stormy eyes; Aang then slammed his staff into the ground as his eyes and tattoo glowed an ethereal blue. With a wave of his hand, the mist opened, and the three men entered.

****

Azula, Katara and Niwa watched the mist envelop Aang, Zuko and Ozai. Niwa let out a shaky, bated breath as she gently bounced Katsu in her arms.

Katara looked to Azula, who seemed indifferent to the whole thing. Katara could notice the shielded way she stood and held her face - it was like when Katara had been reunited with her own father years ago, and the pain of his absence to fight in the war had resulted in her placing so much orphaned anger upon Hakoda. All of the feelings she didn’t have the time to sort through while helping to take care of the tribe, while traveling with Aang and Sokka and Toph and holding people together, she felt both displaced enough from Hakoda and trusting enough of her father to unload every negative, sour, complicated emotion she’d been harboring for years - and he didn’t push her away. The moment had allowed Katara to become more open with her father after the war, and the two were now on more even grounds than ever.

But a father that was absent for trying to help the world is different from being the soldier child of a man who held the whole war in his hands. Ozai may have only reigned for 6 years, but those 6 years were formative to Zuko and Azula. Sometimes Katara thinks about those months when Zuko chased her and Sokka and Aang, and she’s long-since realized that a parent burning their child for speaking out and then banishing them for an indefinite amount of time was cruelty beyond measure - but back then she was too young to understand, as was Zuko. But Azula herself had no idea the pressures and weights to being Ozai’s blessed favorite. Azula, having prided herself on the stature of Ozai’s talented, preferred child who held the burdens of her father so gracefully on her head, yet her own young mind, no matter how brilliant, couldn’t foresee how Ozai’s teachings would lead to Azula to sequestering herself out of paranoia before challenging Zuko to an Agni Kai while on the cusp of being crowned Fire Lord while Ozai was out demolishing what was soon to be the Old World, reducing it to ash to allow a New World to be reborn.

Katara noticed Azula’s detachment from the situation, and she approached the princess with caution.

“You don’t have to walk on eggshells, Katara,” Azula said without looking at her as she heard the decorative beads on Katara’s clothing rattling upon her presence.

“… I’m sorry. I just wanted to check on you.”

Azula’s face remained neutral, although Katara could see the effort being made to do so. Azula’s crossed arms tightened.

“I’m fine.”

With a nod that meant Katara knew she wasn’t going to get much more out of Azula, she backed away, thus moving to approach Niwa, but not before turning to look at the grounds. The house ahead of them was large, something she would expect to contain an entire family. Several other small buildings surrounded the area, like a shed nearby, a chicken coop, a barn for the lion-rams, every hybrid pig Katara had ever seen, and several ostrich horses. It was a handsome property; bright and colorful with flowers at the base of the mountain, and a ravine that wrapped between the land and said mountain.

Turning back towards Niwa, who bundled Katsu up in the wrapping blanket as twilight approached, Katara was taken back at the image of the woman as she lovingly spoke to her newborn. She also felt immense dread, wondering if this woman knew the extent of what Ozai had done to so many people. What if Chiyo and Katsu were just as doomed as Zuko and Azula? What if Ozai returned to his old ways of pitting his children against each other?

“… Miss Niwa,” Katara began, “how are you doing?”

Niwa sighed, holding Katsu up to her shoulder, gently patting his back. “Better than I was, but still… not knowing is the worst. I’m just… I’m so scared for Chiyo. I trust her knowledge of the woods; she’s played in them so many times before on her own, but this? I’m so scared of what this could do to her.”

Katara nodded. She looked at little Katsu, wondering if maybe he resembled Zuko or Azula when they were that age.

“I can’t help but ask… but… what convinced you to… to be with Ozai?”

Niwa closed her eyes. Azula’s eyes locked onto the other women as she maintained her distance.

“Nothing ‘convinced’ me. I found a man who needed help, thus I helped him. Things happened from there. He told me his name was Chen.”

“He lied to you as well?” Katara asked. Niwa shook her head.

“It’s not… it’s not like that.”

“He did.” Azula seconded. “He lied to you to protect himself. Look where it’s gotten him. A woman who will defend him and two new, perfect little children. Only this time he won’t mess up.”

Niwa’s already strained patience was waning. “You take me for a fool.”

“Oh you bet I do,” Azula scoffed.

Katara did her best to place herself between them, trying to maintain civility. “Let’s not get too riled up. We’re here to make sure Chiyo returns to safety-”

Azula finally stepped forward. “Which means removing Ozai.”

Niwa’s stomach dropped.

Azula maintained her stance. “At all costs.”

“No. I won’t allow it,” Niwa insisted. Azula pointed towards the forest.

“You’re so afraid of losing your children yet you’ll allow that monster near them?!”

“He has never hurt them!” Niwa shouted. Azula doubled down.

“You’ve seen my brother’s eye! He had no problem doing that to him and shoving him off! For THREE YEARS! And he had no problem raising me to believe that what he did to Zuko was justified! The war was one thing, but he pitted me against my family so I believed he was the only one truly on my side, and then what happened? He abandoned me! Do you know how long it’s taken me to understand what actual affection looks like? What it’s meant to feel like when my mother holds me so that I don’t think she’s using that as some kind of emotional bait??”

Katara was quick to act in intercepting Katsu as Niwa’s anger rose. Niwa handed her son to the waterbender as she stalked Azula’s way.

“And I am sorry, Azula. I am so sorry for what you two went through. I can’t imagine all of the pain and horror you must feel reliving what happened.”

“No.” Azula growled. “You can’t. You can’t imagine what it’s like to be so alone-”

“I’ve BEEN alone, Azula. Before I found Ozai I was alone for years! I’ve had family! I had a wonderful family! My grandparents, both of my parents, and guess what? They have all DIED! I have been here because it’s my home; it’s all I have. When I found your father I didn’t think to myself ‘oh look, I wonder if this man is former Fire Lord Ozai and I should leave him for dead’, no! I found an injured man here in a place of little threat and I wanted to help him, because that’s what my homestead is about! I never believed him to be Ozai!”

“Well now that you know, then you’ll understand when we take him back to the Fire Nation.”

Niwa didn’t budge. “Over my dead body.”

Katara stepped back. Azula’s mouth ticked a smile.

“Excuse me?” Azula laughed.

Niwa approached Azula with every word. “Over. My. Dead. Body. You are not taking Ozai. You are not touching him. When your brother and the Avatar return, I am giving you all my thanks in every way I can, but you are not removing him from my life, nor that of my childrens’ lives.”

“He’s a monster!” Azula shouted. Niwa shook her head.

“Azula; if you can change your perceptions, why can’t he?”

Feeling the back of her neck bristle, Azula stood rigid in furious horror.

Katara stood at the ready, holding a baby in one arm and keeping her other hand at her waterskin.

Azula’s lip curled.

“You want him so bad? Fine. Maybe I’ll talk Zuko into building a wall around this forest, so you all can stay locked up and so SO happy together.”

Katara shook her head at Azula, who ignored the waterbender. Niwa, her arms crossed, tilted her head.

“I thought you said you were different? That sounds an awful lot like an old Fire Nation tactic if you ask me.”

Azula’s fists shook. “… I’m… I’m not like that anymore. I’m not like him!”

“I know you’re not Azula; but in the same way, you’ve both changed,” Niwa said. “I just want you to understand that he’s come a long way. Just like you have; and I don’t intend to let him go after I’ve seen the man he’s become. I trust the man he has become. Just like Katara is here with you.”

Azula looked towards Katara. “What are you talking about?”

Niwa continued. “A waterbender here as a friend to the princess of the Fire Nation? After everything you’ve told me? You can change and build new friendships, but he cannot?”

Azula replayed the moment Katara chained her to that grate after besting her during Sozin’s Comet. But she said nothing.

But she didn’t need to as her charged posture diffused, and she stepped back, and away from the argument.

Katara waited and allowed Niwa to turn her way, taking Katsu back into her arms. The waterbender didn’t say anything at first. She knew enough about Ozai to hate him. She’d also once hated Zuko and Azula.

Katara herself was the reason Azula wasn’t crowned as Fire Lord. And yet here they were as… well… maybe not the best of friends, but by now they were on positive terms of acquaintanceship through Zuko, and through Azula’s continued work towards a healthier life. Today had been the darkest turn Azula’s mentality had taken in well over a year, and it worried Katara, but she also understood.

But she couldn’t help but wonder, as she watched Niwa defend Ozai - the man that Katara’s fiance defeated - maybe… if his children had achieved a life beyond the goals of the old Fire Nation… maybe Ozai had achieved that too.

Katara listened to Niwa talk to Katsu as he cooed.

“Don’t worry; daddy will be home soon with sissy. I promise,” she said, stroking her son’s wispy hair.

****

“Chiyo!!” Aang called out. “Chiyo where are you?!”

“Chiyo!” Ozai shouted, following Aang’s voice. “Come on! Let’s go home!”

Zuko felt something in the pit of his stomach as Ozai said that.

“Zuko, Azula! It’s time to go home!” Ozai would call as their feet were coated with sand and saltwater, and as they begged for more time to keep constructing their lopsided palace on the beach.

Zuko looked at his father’s expression as he waited to hear Chiyo’s voice. The concern knitted in his brow was something Zuko had never seen - or at least if he had seen it, time hadn’t done the memory much justice.

“Does she come out here often?” Aang asked. Ozai nodded.

“These woods have been peaceful since before Niwa’s time, from what I understand. Chiyo has played in here for hours on end without problem. I taught her how to swim in the fishing pond up ahead.”

Aang looked towards Zuko, who maintained a visage of neutrality. The Avatar fell back a bit, walking next to Ozai.

“… So Niwa found you in this forest?”

“That’s what she’s told me,” Ozai said. “I was traveling at night, through a forest near where we fought. Next I remember I was waking up in her home.”

Aang listened to the atmosphere around him. “There’s a lot of uncertainty around here. When we flew over, I could sense a large cluster of spirits.”

Ozai hummed; Aang could hear the concern laced within it. “I’ve always figured this place had… something within it. For as long as it’s been peaceful, even at night, I guess I rationalized it as some form of… guardian. Maybe I was wrong.”

“I don’t think that’s wrong, necessarily,” Aang said. “But, if there’s some kind of guardian, it’s being overpowered right now; and it feels angry.”

Zuko’s hands became fists, but not out of his own anger. “… You don’t think it’s here because of Azula and me, do you?”

Aang looked back, shrugging. “Spirits can follow emotions and intentions. I… I suppose it’s possible.”

Zuko felt a weight in his gut. He looked towards Ozai, who didn’t look back to Zuko.

Old fears resurfaced for Zuko; he hadn’t felt this wave of uncertainty around Ozai in years.

“Ah; there it is,” Ozai said as they approached the well. Aang stopped, getting a good look at it’s construction.

“That…that looks like one of the wells back at the temples.”

First the carvings in the rocks, and now the well’s architecture. Aang touched the stone, impressed with the craftsmanship.

Ozai looked out to the different branches that splintered off from the clearing. “Chiyo!”

Aang looked up from inspecting the well to look at Zuko. The young Fire Lord watched his father shout for his child, able to maintain a poise he once never thought possible as he yearned for scraps of his father’s approval. But he also felt guilty for potentially leading to this search.

“Dad,” Zuko’s voice broke through the ringing silence when no one answered his call. Ozai looked at his eldest child as he reached out, hesitating, but he still managed to touch Ozai’s shoulder. “We’ll find her. I promise.”

Ozai regarded Zuko with an air of surprise. The son who once told Ozai to his face that he was abandoning everything their family stood for and trained the Avatar in the ways of firebending just to dethrone his father was there helping him find a part of his ‘new family’.

The older man could see how much Zuko was truly beginning to resemble him, and it made his stomach turn as he remembered how much suffering he put upon Zuko for his supposed weaknesses - when those ‘weaknesses’ were traits he had inherited from his father. Traits Ozai wanted stamped out because of that very reason. If he had to let go of all of the tenderness in his heart to succeed in his endeavors, then Zuko had to do the same.

And yet it is Zuko that now sits upon the throne, having heralded a new start with care and compassion the likes the Fire Nation and the world hadn’t seen in a century.

And it took too many years and a new family for him to come to even begin to understand how much of himself he’d never gotten to know by denying himself tenderness with another person.

Ozai finally managed to answer his son by placing his hand over Zuko’s on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice gruff with overflowing memories and feelings. He cleared his throat, looking at Zuko, into his eyes that were no longer wide and pleading and unsure, but were now more sure than even Ozai was these days. He tried to smile for some levity; and for something he didn’t realize was important to say until the events unfolding. “You’ve really… You’re…”

The words couldn’t register You’re a good kid? You’ve come a long way? How so? The man who had bucked the mould Ozai tried to fit him into was now something completely different indeed. Would telling him he’d grown into a good man even mean something coming from Ozai?

Instead, Zuko offered another smile.

“It’s alright. We can talk about it later.”

Aang watched from behind, unsure as Zuko walked ahead.

“Aang,” Zuko said, “Can you sense anything from here?”

Aang closed his eyes, opening them as they began to glow. He slammed a hand onto the ground, and a glow of energy burst through the grass that only he could see. Zuko and Ozai stumbled back as the gust of wind nearly knocked them over, but Aang, as his eyes dimmed, pointed to a spot towards the north; as the glow dissipated, he found a set of small footprints.

“There! She’s gone north!”

But just as they prepared to take off, Ozai felt something grab his ankle. He fell onto his stomach as he was dragged backwards. Zuko turned to see his father being pulled by something he couldn’t see - while Aang saw a translucent hand reaching out, pulling Ozai away. A spirit that was hiding in the well was the culprit.

“We’ve found him!”

A cavalcade of noise deafened Aang; Zuko watched his friend try to block his ears as he winced.

“Justice!”

“Justice for our lands!”

“Praise to the Avatar for leading us here!”

“Now we need to remove the woman and the other parasite; then this land will be ours.”

Zuko rushed forward, grabbing Ozai’s hands to keep him from being dragged into the well. The two latched onto each other, and Zuko, for once, witnessed primal fear in his father’s eyes.

Aang found his clarity through the noise; he also darted towards the well, pulling Ozai out of the grip of the spirit.

“Avatar!!” It screeched. “Let us take this beast from this world!”

“No!” Aang shouted. “This isn’t the right way!”

“Your way didn’t work! Your human justice led him back here to infest this land!”

Aang and Zuko managed to pull Ozai to safety, and Aang created a barrier of spiritual energy around them.

“What is it you want?” Aang shouted. The spirits howled and screeched.

“On the day the comet painted the sky crimson, the Fire Lord set ablaze to our homes!”

“We have wandered countless eves since!”

“We nearly rid ourselves of him years ago! When we came across him wandering, just like us! We forced him to feel our rage! Our pain!”

“We have been trying to find him since, but something has kept us from entering this forest.”

“But we have managed to distract it by luring the older of the parasite’s children into the forest; He is busy keeping It safe.”

Aang, confused, looked around as the clearing continued to darken with encroaching spirits. “He?”

“His spirit feels much like yours. But regardless, Avatar. We are ready for our justice!”

“This isn’t justice!” Aang shouted. Behind him, Zuko helped Ozai to his feet. “This is revenge! And revenge only begets more revenge and bloodshed!”

“PERHAPS BLOOD IS WHAT WE WANT!”

As the sun set, the trees began to sway as the spirits convened, and they amassed together to create an amalgamation of rage and desolation, appearing in the form of a massive, armored spidersnake.

****

She turned towards the burst of energy that had erupted towards the south.

The other with her, carrying a lantern that glowed with a hazy, white fire, hummed to himself.

“Did you feel that, Chiyo?” He asked, looking at the small girl. She nodded, not looking to him; instead he watched her face where the energy was coming from, her little form frightened, but not shying away from the predicament. “He is here as well… I should go say my hellos. It’s been a hundred years, after all.”

Chiyo looked up to the older man, able to see the grass through his non-corporeal form; but after all this time of knowing him nothing about him frightened her.

“What happens if I don’t know what to do?”

“It’s alright, Chiyo. You won’t be alone. But we must make haste. Don’t worry. I will be right by your side.”

Beyond the trees, they could hear the screech of the spirits as they engaged in a heated confrontation with the Avatar, the Fire Lord, and the man responsible for displacing them.

“AVATAR! YOU WOULD DEFEND THIS BEAST? AFTER YOU PROMISED HE COULD DO LONGER CAUSE DESTRUCTION?”

Aang dodged one of the spidersnake’s piercing legs as it jammed into the ground.

Aang faltered with an answer as he landed on one of the spirit’s legs.

“I won’t stand for acting on vengeance when the other hasn’t committed any other crimes!”

“HE IS COMMITTING A CRIME BY BEING HERE! YOUR MORTAL SENTENCING DID NOT WORK! YOU ALLOWED THIS CREATURE TO ESCAPE HIS CONFINES AND INVADE OUR LANDS! AGAIN!”

Ozai dodged one of the legs as it prepared to slice him upon impact.

“Let me speak!”

“IT WILL ALL BE LIES!”

Another leg stabbed the ground. Ozai looked towards Zuko, who was unsheathing his swords; even as a master firebender, he found comfort in bringing these weapons along with him.

He turned towards Ozai.

“Dad!” He shouted, tossing one of the swords Ozai’s way.

“YOU WOULD CAUSE MORE BLOODSHED!!”

“Just the same as you!” Ozai barked. Aang, from up high, began to panic, and he descended towards the others.

“No! Wait this isn’t the way!”

“Then what do you want us to do?!” Zuko hissed as he tried to keep his eyes on the massive spirit.

Ozai lashed out, slashing at a leg that passed by them, trying to stab it where the armor was weak.

“OZAI!” Aang shouted.

“WHAT?! MY FAMILY IS IN DANGER!”

“THIS HAPPENED BECAUSE OF YOU!”

“I’M WELL AWARE OF THAT!”

“YOU CAN’T KEEP TRYING TO USE VIOLENCE, IT WON’T SOLVE ANYTHING!”

Ozai glowered at Aang. “Really? Maybe you should have killed me when you had the chance, boy. Then maybe this wouldn’t be happening.”

Aang’s mouth bobbed, but he quickly became furious. Zuko looked between the two. He had once insisted to Aang that he would need to kill Ozai; it would be the only way to truly stop him. But Aang didn’t, citing the importance of his heritage and views of mercy. But… Ozai had indeed escaped his prison sentence, and he had returned to the Earth Kingdom, and now the spirits of the lands that were scorched by his fire were seeking their retribution, and an innocent family was in danger.

Well; mostly innocent family. Zuko wouldn’t lie about how he wondered how Niwa could care for his father; how he wondered what kind of man she found within him.

“Zuko! Behind you!”

Aang blasted a gust of air towards the spirit before it could slam a sharp leg down upon Zuko.

“ENOUGH!” The spirit shrieked. It doubled down and charged at Aang, flinging him into the tree canopy. It turned towards Ozai. “You have chosen this land, and thus the bones of you and your family will decorate it!”

Ozai held onto the hilt of the sword with a grip that turned his knuckles white. “You won’t touch my family.”

The spirit cackled. “Oh? Let’s make things interesting.”

A leg slammed down, catching the fabric of Zuko’s tunic. The spirit rounded, tackling Zuko to the ground, and it reared back to bite down into Zuko’s ribs. The Fire Lord screamed as the pincers buried into his abdomen; the poison seared and stung his flesh and exacerbated the wound.

Ozai watched as Zuko howled.

Yet he never called for his father, who was right there.

“Papa!”

But another voice did.

“Mama! Papa!”

Chiyo’s voice was heard over Zuko’s screams.

“ZUKO!” Aang’s voice entered the noise as he returned to the fray; and Ozai once more grabbed the sword Zuko had lent him… Zuko had lent him a means of protection - which Ozai now needed to use for him in return.

“ZUKO!” Ozai screamed along with Aang, and he charged after the spirit. “Avatar! Give me a lift! I’ll-”

“No! I won’t let you kill it!”

“IT’S KILLING ZUKO AS WE SPEAK!”

Aang faltered, but Ozai didn’t. He reeled back and, with all of his might, he sliced through one of the spirit’s legs. It screeched in agony, finally releasing Zuko. Aang was quick to Zuko’s side as the spirit stumbled away from him. Ozai grabbed Zuko’s other sword, slashing at the spidersnake, eagerly cutting any tender part of it’s body.

Zuko fought for air, his mouth rendered dry from the effects of the poison. Aang was quick to pull some water from the well, and with techniques Katara had taught him, he began trying to heal the wound.

“VILE CREATURE! YOU BRING MORE PAIN!” The spirit screamed as Aang heard another leg thud to the ground.

“AVATAR! YOU ALLOW THIS TO HAPPEN! YOUR BLINDNESS AND BIAS LEAD TO MORE DESTRUCTION!”

“No!” Aang cried out. “You chose this path! You have chosen revenge to deal with your pain!”

“MY PAIN BROUGHT ABOUT MERCILESSLY BY ONE OF YOUR OWN HUMANS! I ASK RETRIBUTION AND I RECEIVE PAIN!”

“You threatened me and my family!” Ozai shouted.

The spirit wobbled; seeing no other way to end this scuffle, it’s body rattled with determination.

“Perhaps it should no longer be a threat. You will know my pain.”

Even missing two legs, the spidersnake charged towards the home.

“NO!!” Ozai screamed. He looked towards Aang and Zuko.

“Zuko still isn’t healed!” Aang said. “I’ve removed the poison but-”

Ozai rushed forward, removing his shawl and pressing it against the wound.

Zuko lay bleeding; but Ozai’s family was in danger…

But Zuko was Ozai’s family… As much as neither were ready to admit it in full just yet.

Ozai’s face twisted; his method hadn’t worked. It had only hastened the problem.

“Go, Avatar. Please; help my family.”

Aang nodded, taking to the sky and flying back towards the homestead.

In the enveloping silence, Ozai was panicking; he had to get back, but what about Zuko?

“Zuko; can you hear me?” Ozai asked; gently jostling the Fire Lord. Zuko moaned; the poison had taken every bit of energy out of his body.

“He needs this.”

Ozai jumped as a voice made itself known from behind. A cloaked man… another spirit, judging by the way Ozai could see through him… he offered an herb to Ozai.

“What do I do?” Ozai asked, accepting it.

“Extract the oils with your palms; it will also warm it up, activating it; then apply it to the wrists, throat, chest; it will absorb and help him.”

Ozai quickly took to smashing the herb between his palms; in time creating a medicated-smelling oil, and he began dabbing as instructed.

“Do you know this man?” The spirit asked. Ozai felt how Zuko’s scar had even wrapped around to the back of his neck as he administered the oil.

“…This is my son.”

“I see,” the robed man said. “Quite a nasty scar on his eye.”

Ozai didn’t look back at him; instead he massaged Zuko’s wrists, hoping the herb would take effect soon.

“That must have hurt. Did you find the man who did it?”

Ozai stopped; he looked back to the cloaked man-

Who was gone.

A groan; a grimace.

“Dad?” Zuko asked. Ozai jumped, pulling Zuko to sit up.”What happened? Did we fend it off?”

Ozai shook his head. “No; can you stand?”

“I… I think so.”

“If you can stand, then I can help you.”

****

Aang flew as fast as the currents could take him. He kept tabs on the spirit as it charged towards the homestead; he hoped the others weren’t too close to the entrance of the forest.

He found a strong wind current, and he charged through the sky, able to see the clearing as he bypassed the raging spirit. He crested the canopy, and found Katara, Azula, and Niwa waiting nearby.

“GET OUT OF THE WAY!! GO TOWARDS THE HOUSE!!” Aang screamed; but it wasn’t long until the spirit burst through the trees.

Katara was quick to act, and she used the nearby ravine to create a wall of ice to contain the spirit. Azula shoved Niwa towards the house and ran to join Katara and Aang.

“Where’s Zuko?” Azula asked Aang as he landed.

“He’s in the woods with Ozai-”

“YOU LEFT HIM WITH OZAI?! ALONE?!” Azula screeched as smoked poured from her mouth. Aang winced, but he was distracted by the scraping sounds of the spidersnake’s sharp legs clawing at the ice. Katara continued to add layers of ice to the wall, but the spirit was chipping away too fast for her to keep up.

“It’s going to escape!” She shouted. Aang looked back to Niwa, holding Katsu as she watched in fear, and he bent giant split in the earth to keep the spirit from reaching her. Niwa watched in awe as her land was broken in half, and water from the ravine crashed into the gap.

“Okay,” Katara said, still adding layers of ice. “What’s the plan?”

Aang joined her, also layering on to the wall as Azula joined them at the ready. Aang nervously laughed.

“Uhh that’s a good question.”

“You don’t have a plan?!” Azula asked. Aang pouted at her.

“Oh like you two have been making one while we’ve been in there?!”

Azula pouted back and crossed her arms, remaining silent.

“I don’t want to kill it,” Aang said. “It’s suffered enough; but harming others won’t fix it’s suffering.”

“What does it want?” Katara asked.

“It wants Ozai and his family dead,” Aang said.

Azula hmm’d. “I don’t see the problem with that.”

“Azula!” Katara admonished, but Azula was quick to snap back.

“Do you know what it’s like?! To have gone through so much because of him and suddenly he’s so much happier without you around?!”

Aang helped add another layer to the ice wall as the spirit screamed in frustration.

“I don’t think that’s what happened, Azula.”

“HE NEVER WOULD HAVE HELPED ME IF I WAS IN THIS SITUATION! AND YET HE’S IN THAT FOREST LOOKING FOR HIS NEW PERFECT LITTLE BABY WHILE WE DO ALL OF HIS DIRTY WORK FOR-”

“OZAI STAYED BEHIND BECAUSE ZUKO’S HURT. I’M DOING MY JOB AS THE AVATAR, OZAI IS HELPING YOUR BROTHER.”

Azula went silent, but she appeared as though she could shoot lightning from her eyes.

“Azula,” Aang said; “Would you let a woman endure the pain you felt just to make yourself feel better? I know you wouldn’t; you quit that cycle a long time ago. You have to live it now. And not giving in to the pain you’ve endured sometimes hurts more than the memory of it.”

Azula turned her head, tears in her eyes.

“Think about Kiyi! You have another little sister and brother! If you put that same harm on them, what would that say about everything you’ve learned? And if Ozai has learned how to stop acting out on his own anger, then why be mad at that?”

“Because Zuko and I suffered!”

“But it’s not Niwa’s fault; nor is it Chiyo’s or Katsu’s. Your suffering isn’t your fault,” Aand said, looking at the spirit, “But enacting on that anger to hurt others out of justice… sometimes it’s only revenge; and the cycle continues. And one day they’ll see it as the right thing to keep hurting other. Is that the legacy you want, Azula? After everything you’ve been through?”

For a moment, the only sounds were Katara and Aang adding water to the ice wall to contain the spirit.

Azula took a breath. “So… what should we do with this?” She asked.

Aang looked to Katara. “We can’t just keep holding it… we have to do something to stop it.”

“And at what point do we put it down?” Azula asked, stretching her arms as her hands began to sizzle.

“… We don’t.”

Azula sighed. “Katara he’s impossible.”

Katara smiled towards her fiance. “Yeah; I know.”

The ice finally broke, and the spirit lunged forward. Aang leaped into the air as Katara used the water to skate out of the way. Azula bent a wall of fire to try and herd the spirit away, but it was almost too fast, and it kept up with the blaze as it extended. Azula cursed and focused her powers on her feet, and she burst forward, using her flames to hover and move quickly.

Niwa watched in horror as part of her homestead was lit ablaze. Even from her distance she could feel the heat from the fire. Her livestock bleated and clucked and screeched in fear as she held tight to Katsu.

She wondered why only Aang had returned from the forest; until she saw two figures at the entrance of the trees.

Ozai helped Zuko stumble along, the two of them taking in the sight of battle.

Zuko tried to stand, but he was still too weak. Ozai helped him sit as he he could see Niwa and Katsu were safe.

But there was still no sign of Chiyo.

Holding tight to Zuko’s swords, Ozai pondered his best course of action.

“Dad,” Zuko said, and Ozai knelt down to listen. “You should go back in and try to find Chiyo while it’s distracted.”

Ozai stared at him. “And leave you here?”

Zuko laughed. “It wouldn’t be the first time. I’ll be fine.”

The words stung Ozai, but he was right.

“Besides,” Zuko said, “I’m a better solo fighter.”

“And yet you’re here with all of these people who care about you,” Ozai said.

Zuko smirked. “I lucked out. They helped me realize how much worth I had when I was blind to it.”

Ozai’s throat tightened. “I’ve… gone through a similar situation recently.” Ozai said. “I just didn’t realize it until today.”

Zuko shook his head, weakly pushing his father.

“Then go; go find her,” he said. Ozai stood, and Zuko gripped Ozai’s hand on one of the swords, ensuring he had a good hold on the hilt. “Don’t fail another one of your kids. Or I’ll make sure you see that prison cell again.”

Ozai nodded. “As his majesty commands.”

Ozai rushed back into the woods, and Zuko weakly tried to stand, but his legs weren’t strong enough. His presence caught the eye of Katara.

“ZUKO!” She shouted, skating his way with her water ribbon. She landed in front of him and crouched down. “Where is it?” She asked, preparing her water as he showed her the wound. She was quick to begin healing it as he wrapped an arm around her for support.

“I told dad to go back in and look for Chiyo while you have the spirit distracted.”

“You haven’t found her yet?”

“No. I’m starting to worry.”

“… Do you think he’ll find her?”

Zuko looked back to the fight raging in front of him. “I want to hope so; for all our sakes. I don’t want to think of my father’s bloodlust going against this spirit’s. If we led this thing here and something’s happened to Chiyo, I don’t think we’ll have seen the last of my father’s anger.”

****

He raced through the woods, feeling a panic he wasn’t used to. Even when Chiyo and Katsu had been born, he wasn’t this afraid.

Only upon seeing Zuko and Azula and the reflections of the man he used to be, and now Chiyo’s sudden disappearance did Ozai feel his eyes grow hot with tears as his frustration built.

So many emotions seemed to pile on top of each other, one after another.

Perhaps he wasn’t meant to be a father; he was barely even a good son. But he tried so hard…

‘All I wanted was for you, my father, to love me!’

Zuko’s words pierced his mind, as did the image of Azulon’s emotionless face.

Ozai shook his head and he continued back down the path.

“CHIYO!” He screamed.

What if he never found her? What if she was gone?

‘Spirits can follow emotions and intentions-”

Aang’s answer to Zuko’s question earlier rang in his mind. Ozai had displaced those spirits… if they’d arrived following any animosity from Zuko or Azula, or even following the Avatar’s power…

‘I’ve taken away your bending-”

Ozai’s defeat at the hands of Aang had caused him so much grief… and yet his time here with Niwa, away from the palace, away from the place that had created his anger and self-loathing… She had given him something new.

The early days when she expected nothing back from him for saving him, and he stayed because he just… didn’t have anything left. But he did find her. And soon they had each other. He often found himself thinking about Ursa; and the guilt he buried to keep himself sane.

And then Chiyo was born; the physical manifestation of his new life as Chen, as Niwa’s other half. Years ago, Ozai waited for his children’s arrivals from a distance as Ursa was confined to special quarters. He was then fetched to be brought to his tired wife and a clean, swaddled baby, to which he was pleased; and yet Chen helped to guide his children into the world, containing his composure in contrast to the work and pain Niwa endured. His hands - the hands that shaped, raised and burned everything from the world around him, including his own children, now delivered new life.

It didn’t hit him until a moment passed after Chiyo’s birth and she hadn’t made a sound, until she finally began to wail. That sigh of relief Ozai breathed was something he hadn’t forgotten. The way Niwa smiled as she gathered up their daughter into her arms.

The way Ozai felt compelled, hours later, to take Chiyo outside; all clean and bundled and happy with her first meal, as he introduced her to her home; his own new home. How he told her it may not seem much at first, but it had welcomed him and had helped him become a new man, and now how Chiyo was just as welcome to this new home; as she was created by a land that brought two souls together.

“CHIYO!!” Ozai shouted, his heart feeling the strain with the passing of the hours full of worry.

But thankfully-

“Papa!”

Ozai whipped around, hearing the voice. He heard some foliage rustle, and clamoring out from behind a lilac bush was Chiyo as she ran into her father’s arms.

“Papa!!” She cried as Ozai fell to his knees. “Papa I’m sorry!”

Ozai kissed her forehead. “It’s alright, rosebud. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

“I didn’t m-mean for al-all of this to h-hap-ppen,” Chiyo sobbed. Ozai looked to her in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

A soft glow rounded the lilac bush, and Ozai saw the robed man from earlier, holding a lantern flickering with an eerie-white flame.

“You,” he said. The spirit smiled, approaching them before he knelt down.

“I’m happy that you’ve finally found each other. Chen, or… I suppose Ozai… I’m afraid I’m the one that may have set things into motion today,” he said. Ozai stared at him.

“Who are you?”

The robed spirit chuckled. “I’m actually an old acquaintance of Avatar Aang’s. My name is Khospa.”

Ozai’s jaw went slack. “You’re Niwa’s grandfather.”

Chiyo sniffled, wiping her nose with her sleeve. “I got scared earlier when that lady kept getting angry. I saw Grandpa Khospa in the woods and wanted to talk to someone. He always gives good advice,” she said, reaching out to let Khospa take her hand as he chuckled.

Ozai’s eyes widened.

“Always? Wait… this isn’t the first time you two have spoken?”

“No,” Chiyo said, finally smiling. “Grandpa Khospa helps me find mushrooms and the best berries! and told me I’d be a good big sister!”

Ozai remembered when Chiyo was a little less than optimistic when she learned about Katsu’s impending arrival; then one day she started proclaiming about how she was going to be the best big sister.

Khospa chuckled. “She can be a little spitfire at times, eh?”

Ozai smiled, unable to hold back his relief.

“But I think she’s ready to tell you something, right Chiyo?”

Ozai looked between the two, and Chiyo, nervous, held tight to Ozai’s collar as she leaned in to whisper something in his ear.

His slackened jaw almost hit the ground.

“You can… you can what?”

The sounds of a shriek pierced the night. Ozai jumped as he recalled what was happening outside of the forest.

Chiyo wriggled out of Ozai’s grip.

“Come on, Papa! We have to go help them! I have to help Aang!”

“I will help you find your way out,” Khospa said, holding his lantern out to guide them out of the forest. Chiyo eagerly held tight to her father’s hand as they rushed through the woods.

Ozai, looking down at Chiyo and her determination, now felt more strongly than ever about returning to find Zuko and Azula - and to ensure their safety.

Zuko who, as of right now, had been healed in full by Katara. He stood, still wobbly, but he no longer ached as he stretched in anticipation of fighting. In the distance, Aang and Azula had kept the spirit contained by dodging it’s advances and using their elements to herd it away from each other.

“We can’t just keep making it go in circles,” Katara said. “But Aang wants it to stay alive.”

“It’s angry. I just don’t know how we can quell it’s anger in a way that will satisfy it.”

“Zuko!”

Zuko and Katara jumped as Ozai caught up with them. They gasped as they saw Chiyo with him, and Zuko smiled. “Hey Chiyo! You’re back!”

Nodding, Chiyo looked out to the great spirit as it fought.

“Look, Chiyo,” Khospa said, pointing to Aang. “There he is. I think he could use your help.”

Nodding, Chiyo rushed forward much to Zuko and Azula’s horror as Ozai ran after her.

“Chiyo wait!” Zuko shouted.

“It’s not safe for you!” Katara insisted. “Ozai stop her!”

“I can’t,” Ozai said. “This has to happen.”

Chiyo approached the spirit, and Aang, floating above, watched in horror as the spirit caught her in its sights. It turned towards her, and Chiyo stood still, but not out of fear.

Zuko screamed at Ozai to intervene; Katara readied her waterbending-

But just as the spirit reeled a leg back to smash down upon Chiyo-

A gust of air rustled around her clothes, and she leapt into the air, high, high up… until she was face to face with Aang as the spirit’s claw came crashing into the ground.

Ozai watched, unbelieving, as his daughter took to the sky; Zuko and Katara’s shouts went silent.

Aang, wide-eyed watched this little girl hover for a moment as their wind currents collided. She smiled at him.

“You’re… You’re a…” Aang’s throat was dry.

“Avatar Aang!” Chiyo grinned. “My Grandpa Khospa says hi!”

“Khospa?” Aang echoed. He looked towards the entrance of the woods, where a figure stood with a lantern.

The memory of an Air Nomad, still struggling to get his tattoos, but was a beloved shepherd of young airbenders, came to his mind.

“Khospa?!”

“ENOUGH!” The spirit screamed. It reared back on it’s snake body to reach upwards, flailing it’s legs towards Aang and Chiyo, who fell back down to the ground. Aang caught himself, but Chiyo was poised to land - until Azula made a grab for her little sister, who knocked the wind out of the older princess as she slammed down. Chiyo looked to see Azula and she smiled nervously.

“Thanks, lady.”

Azula pushed her off without hesitation. “Just what we need, another cloud-brained airbender.”

With a screech, the spirit prepared to strike again, but Chiyo stood to join Aang as she poised herself against the beast.

“HOW DO YOU FEEL, LITTLE ONE? TO KNOW I WILL DECORATE THIS LAND WITH YOUR FLESH?!”

Chiyo didn’t let her nervousness invade her mind; she’d seen spirits before, but this was the angriest one she’d ever met.

She stepped forward, her hands clasped together. “Why are you mad?”

“I HAVE NO HOME. YOUR FATHER SAW TO THAT MANY YEARS AGO.”

Chiyo turned to look at Ozai, who closed his eyes out of shame.

“Papa, is that true?”

Ozai looked to her, and he nodded.

“It is true. This… isn’t the worst thing I’ve ever done. I’ve committed many wrongs. Against this spirit, the world… your brother and sister.”

Azula and Zuko looked to each other as Ozai spoke.

Chiyo turned back to the spirit. “What is it that you want?”

“YOUR HOME IN RETURN. WE SHALL CLEANSE THE LAND OF THOSE WHO LIVE HERE AND MAKE IT OUR OWN!”

“You don’t have to do that!” Chiyo begged. She stepped forward as Ozai and the others made grabs for her to not step too close. “If you need a home, we are more than willing to let you live on this land.”

“WE WANT VENGEANCE!”

“Your anger is justified! But I can’t let you harm my family, or anyone else. But I can let you choose to live here. I don’t want you to suffer; but I don’t want anyone else to suffer. Please?”

The spirit looked upon Chiyo; and without warning, it reeled back to strike down upon her with it’s piercing leg. The others shouted, ready to remove her, but Chiyo didn’t budge; and just as she was about to be skewered-

The claw halted, just inches from her face.

Chiyo reached out to touch the armored claw, and the spirit shuddered.

“It’s okay,” she said. “You’re safe here; you can make this place your home, and you’ll always be safe. I trust you.”

The spirit trembled.

Aang stepped forward. “You have my word. You have his word as well, right Ozai?”

The spirit looked to Ozai, as he looked an absolute wreck as he watched Chiyo’s actions; but he and the spirit locked eyes.

“My Niwa opened this land to me when I needed a home. I took yours away; I now invite you to stay here, and make this land your own; with one condition.”

“… And what is that?”

Ozai placed his hand on his daughter’s hair. “That if you find anyone that is lost, you protect them. Beyond that, you’ll find Khospa; he will be glad to keep you all company.”

The Spidersnake backed away, and upon multiple parts of it’s body, light began to shine. The spirit allowed itself to come apart, and countless streams of light burst into the air, descending down into the ground, where the battered earth regenerated. Grass regrew and flowers burst forth.

“Thank you… ” They heard the whispers of thousands of voices. “I will abide by your condition, so long as you keep your own promise, and maintain the earth around you.”

Ozai looked to Aang. “I promise.”

Aang closed his eyes, passing the message along in spirit; and a cool breeze rustled the trees, playing melodies from nearby windchimes.

****

Niwa watched Aang return her land to one piece as Katara redirected the water that rose with the slab of earth. Niwa then rushed forward, holding Katsu tight as she embraced Chiyo.

“Oh Chiyo! Sweetheart!” She cried out, pulling her daughter into a tight bearhug. Chiyo hugged her mother back, eager to return the embrace.

Ozai watched them, and he tried to not be obvious as he turned to look at Zuko and Azula. Zuko sat on the ground, exhausted after his injury as Azula was staring Niwa’s way. She made eye contact with her father, and Ozai could almost feel the searing heat of her glare; he turned back towards the family in front of him.

“Mama, we kind of invited some people to stay in the woods.”

Ozai chuckled. He knelt down and looked to Niwa. “Well… we both did. But Chiyo did most of the talking. All that spiritual Airbender stuff, you know?”

Niwa still couldn’t believe it. “My baby is an Airbender.”

Chiyo nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I was… kind of scared.”

Niwa held her daughter’s hands like lifelines. “Oh baby; I’m so sorry if there’s ever been anything I’ve done to make you scared about telling me this.”

Chiyo, however, shook her head. “It wasn’t you. I guess I just got scared about it in general; there aren’t a lot of Airbenders so I thought maybe something was wrong with me. But then I met Grandpa Khospa! He helped me, and he told me he was one too!”

Niwa’s jaw dropped. “You… you’ve seen Grandpa Khospa?”

“Yeah, and he’s real funny! He helped me stay safe from the spirits today.”

Niwa looked up to Ozai, and he nodded that she was telling the truth.

“He’s actually over there, talking to Aang! They lived in the same temple!” Chiyo said, pointing towards the entrance of the forest. She could see Aang heading that way to greet Khospa. She couldn’t believe what she was looking at.

Ozai touched Niwa’s shoulder. “You should go see him.”

Niwa’s eyes glossed over, and she held Katsu tight before Ozai gently relinquished her grip of the boy, cradling him against his chest. Ozai stroked her cheek, and she answered with a touch on his hand, still looking towards the spirit of her grandfather.

“Go on,” Ozai whispered, finally convincing her to go.

As Niwa slowly made her way over, she could see Aang and Khospa strike up their conversation.

“It’s good to see you, Aang.”

With happy, but tearful eyes, Aang looked upon Khospa, unable to believe he was with one of his brethren.

“Khospa; I can’t believe it! But… you’re so old… I mean you’re- you’re dead but… look how old you got!”

Khospa laughed a raspy, hearty chuckle. “I… I was lucky. I managed to escape just as we noticed the Fire Nation descending upon us. I was using my glider at the time, so I had a means to escape. I tried to get my bison, Kooka… but she had been…” Khospa shook his head, overcome with emotion.

Aang’s heart dropped, remembering Kooka, a sweet, apple-driven bison, who was the sister of Appa’s mother. She was beloved by weavers as her fur was one of the softest of all of the bison; her fluff was worn by countless Air Nomads.

Khospa cleared his throat and continued: “But… I was still able to escape. I hid in the Earth Kingdom and made a new life. I joined the army, but had to hide my Airbending, or risk being found by the Fire Nation. Unfortunately I lost one of my legs, and couldn’t fight anymore. That was when I met my wife, who’s family lived here and maintained this homestead. It used to be a whole community; but the war took it’s toll,” he sighed heavily, looking upon the still-beautiful land. “I took to the Spirit World before my death so I could be with this land, and my descendants.”

“I’m so sorry, Khospa. I shouldn’t have run away… I should have been there when the Fire Nation attacked.”

“Aang… I’m not sure there would have been much you could have done. You were so young, let alone untrained.”

“I could have done something!”

“And what if they’d killed you too? Then the world would have had to wait anyway for the Avatar to appear again; and with the way the Fire Nation ravaged the Water Tribes? Aang…”

Aang felt the warmth of Khospa’s ethereal hand rest on his shoulder.

“Aang, you may not be proud of it, and it may not have been a brave decision… but the decision you made saved the world. And you still stood to right your mistakes, and you put an end to what destroyed our people.”

Aang smiled, wiping his eyes.

“Thanks, Khospa.”

With an embrace, Aang felt so much of the guilt that he had been carrying begin to ease. He noticed Khospa look up; Aang turned to find Niwa approaching, wringing her hands together emotionally.

“Hi Grandpa,” she smiled. Khospa beamed.

“Hello, Rosebud.”

As they watched from the field, Chiyo found the courage to approach Zuko and Azula.

“Are you feeling better, Zuko?” Chiyo asked.

Zuko nodded, patting her head. “Yeah. I think I’ll make it.”

Chiyo looked up to Azula, who held her hand out to stop her. “If you want to ask me anything, you will call me Azula. Not lady.”

Zuko leaned forward, whispering to Chiyo. “Call her lady, I’ll vouch for you.”

Chiyo giggled, but she simply regarded Azula with big, stormy eyes. “I… I heard you’re my brother and sister.”

Zuko nodded. Azula made a hand gesture indicating that ‘maybe’ they were siblings as she wobbled her outstretched hand.

“I’m so excited!” Chiyo danced. “I thought all I had was stinky Katsu.”

Azula smirked. “Funny; I used to think the same thing about Zuzu; but then we found out we have another sister on our mom’s side, and now I can actually say I have a favorite sibling,” she grinned.

“Hey!” Zuko feigned a hurt tone. “I’m not stinky.”

“Uhh that time we fought each other after you’d been on the run for weeks? Nasty; you smelled like Uncle”

“And who’s fault was that?!” Zuko shouted. Azula looked over her nails.

“Hmm; couldn’t have been mine.”

Chiyo’s eyes lit up further. “Uncle? I have an uncle?”

Zuko nodded. “You sure do.”

Azula shrugged. “He’s alright.”

“Uhh, he’s the best?” Zuko responded. Azula wrinkled her nose.

“Eh, he’s okay.”

Chiyo turned around. “Papa! I have an uncle!!”

Ozai’s face winced as he wondered what else the kids were telling Chiyo… but who was he to stop them from telling her everything he’d held from her? He turned to see Niwa speaking to Khospa, and he hoped their conversation was everything she’d needed after being alone for so long.

Ozai looked to Katsu in his arms as the babe slumbered. He knew it was time to tell Niwa everything. To finally confront the name he’d abandoned to save his own hide years ago. He owed it to her, and to his children. To all of his children.

Niwa gave the final blessing for the new spirits that had taken refuge in her forest. She told Khospa that, to let them know she was thinking about them, she would make a birdcall he had taught her when she was little. As she gave the signal a trial run, whistling out a perfect mimic of a songbird, the forest slowly erupted into a chorus of whistles.

Khospa hugged his granddaughter. “I won’t be far, Rosebud. And I will continue to keep watch over Chiyo and Katsu, and any other grandchildren you might bless me with.”

Niwa didn’t want the embrace to end, but before she could say another goodbye, she realized he was gone. Niwa laughed, wiping her eyes as Aang touched her shoulder. “He hasn’t changed.”

She and Aang returned to the crew as he checked in with Katara, who was visibly exhausted, as well as the others.

“You’re all welcome to stay with us for the night. I have plenty of hay for Appa, and my house has enough rooms for everyone.”

Aang and Katara were eager to take her up on the offer; Zuko nodded as well, but Azula seemed… less than excited. But she finally relented.

As she ensured everyone had a good meal (unfortunately the jackalope meal had to be discarded after being left out for hours), Niwa escorted everyone to their rooms and tucked Chiyo into bed.

“Goodnight, Rosebud,” she whispered as Chiyo was quick to fall asleep after the day’s trials. Niwa kissed her daughter’s forehead as Ozai did the same, holding onto Katsu as he looked upon her. He had so many racing thoughts; for so long he had wondered if she might have become a Firebender. But instead, something he never could have dreamed had happened.

Ozai felt Niwa’s hand on his back, and he stood to join her as they retired back to their room.

So many events that day… the two simply changed into sleepwear and Niwa tended to Katsu, settling him into the crib set up in front of the bed.

“Goodnight, Starshine,” she whispered. Ozai sat on the bed, still too wired to close his tired eyes. Niwa joined him, sitting back as she sighed. A few moments of silence passed before Niwa spoke.

“Okay. I need to know,” she began. Ozai, nervous, looked her way. “What am I calling you from now on? Chen or Ozai?”

Chen was the man that Niwa had met and fallen in love with. But he no longer existed; he was a farce to begin with. Ozai was the man that Chen replaced in Ozai’s own mind - but Ozai was still alive - both physically and in the memories of his older children, the Avatar, and the world.

Chen never existed. Ozai remains; despite how much Ozai himself wishes he could move on. But he already has, but that didn’t mean his children had moved on. Their pain was still evident. The pain of so many was now evident after an entire colony of spirits had found him and were willing to destroy everything that had brought out the best in him.

He sighed and took Niwa’s hand.

“… Ozai. My name is Ozai. I’m sorry.”

Niwa shook her head at him, finding a smile through the situation.

“Whether you’re Ozai or you’re Chen; if you plan on remaining here as though nothing happened today… I will call you whatever you wish.”

“Then just call me ‘my love’,” he grinned, pulling Niwa closer as she laughed.

“Let’s not get too embarrassing,” she said as Ozai leaned in to kiss her.

The night passed into a bright, sparkling morning. A blue, cloudless sky that lit the dewy earth in a twinkling, golden glow. A cool breeze wafted through the home, and Aang was the first to awaken. He decided to tiptoe outside to perform some katas, and as he passed Chiyo’s room, he noticed her peeking out of her doorway.

He smiled and motioned for her to join him. As Niwa woke up, she could hear the Avatar speaking outside. She looked out of her window to see Aang happily instructing some Airbending moves to Chiyo. She watched both of the realize they weren’t alone, and their forming bond was already unbreakable.

As the morning progressed, Zuko awoke as well, and he got dressed and prepared to potentially wake up Azula, but she was already awake, sitting on her bed just waiting.

“Are we leaving?” She asked. Zuko closed the door behind him.

“No, Niwa’s cooking breakfas-”

“I’m not eating.”

“Azula.”

“I’m not spending any time with them. I will leave this room when we leave this prison.”

“It isn’t a prison.”

“I don’t care,” Azula grumbled.

“Chiyo will want to say goodbye,”

“She can come in here and do it.”

Zuko sighed. “Alright. I can’t make you do anything.”

“Exactly.”

Breakfast was cooked and served; Niwa did her best to cater to Aang’s needs as a vegetarian. Chiyo asked reluctantly if she had to let go of meat to be an Airbender, to which Aang fumbled as he looked into her sad gray eyes.

“I mean… if you’re an Airbender already and you’ve been eating meat I don’t see why you should HAVE to give it up. It’s all personal preference!”

Chiyo’s eyes happily lit back up and she eagerly tore into her pig-chicken slice much to Aang’s dismay.

Notably absent from the table was Ozai, along with Azula.

“Where’s Papa?” Chiyo asked Niwa.

“Papa is… he’s watching Katsu while we eat. Katsu’s been… a little fussy and he doesn’t want to… to interrupt breakfast.”

Aang chewed his food slowly, looking at Zuko, who could also tell something was amiss.

“Oh okay,” Chiyo accepted as she chomped into her rice. Niwa looked up at Zuko, signaling that wasn’t exactly the case. As they concluded breakfast, and Niwa insisted everyone leave their dishes for her to clean, she escorted Zuko up to Azula’s with a tray of food for the princess.

“I hope this is alright,” Niwa said. “But… I want to have a talk with you two before you leave.”

Azula listened to the door open, and she bristled as she saw Niwa at the door. Even with a tray full of food, she struggled to trust the woman. Zuko entered behind her, and Niwa placed the tray at Azula’s feet before she knelt down to the floor.

“… There’s something I want to talk to you two about.”

Azula was quick to try and stand, but Zuko urged her to sit back down. Grumbling, she did so, and Niwa looked to the siblings in earnest.

“… Ozai told me everything this morning.”

Zuko looked to his sister. “Everything? As in…”

“As in the case of your mother, Ursa. About… About Azulon. About his death. About what Azulon wanted done to you, Zuko. About your Agni Kai, about your banishment. About you, Azula, and his beliefs that you were superior to Zuko, because Zuko, you reminded Ozai so much of himself. He told me everything.”

Zuko gripped at the fabric over his pants with a trembling hand. Azula frowned and she stood once more.

“If he wanted to say something he should say it TO us!”

“Azula, wait please!” Niwa stood to grab Azula’s hand, but Azula quickly yanked herself from the woman’s grip. “I promise you; this isn’t me trying to pass information along. This is me asking you if all of this is true.”

Zuko blinked. “Wh-why?”

Niwa held herself. “I want there to be honesty. Even if I have to go behind his back to make sure it’s there. If what he’s told me is wrong, then… I won’t keep him here. But if what he’s told me is true…”

“Don’t tell me you’d keep him anyway after everything he’s told you,” Azula sneered. Niwa held herself tighter.

“I would, Azula. I would because he’s not hiding it anymore. He’s not running. He told me this to make sure there were no secrets anymore. He told me all of that this morning. There’s more, too, if you want me to go further in depth. The Phoenix King? Lashing out at Zuko on the Day of Black Sun? Sending you after Zuko multiple times?” She ended the questions looking at Azula.

Zuko nodded. “Those are all correct.”

Azula turned away. Niwa approached her slowly.

“… I know you were both affected by him; terribly. And I know what it must look like to see someone give a chance to a man who didn’t give one to either of you. But… if there’s anything I can promise you in full honesty: He’s not that man anymore.”

“That doesn’t mean a damn thing,” Azula hissed, turning to face Niwa.

“And I understand that as well. But I come here both asking for your truth, and to let you know his own that he entrusted me with. That he’s not running. That… he hates what he did, but he knows you both have every right to not want to see him. Every right to hate him. There are no words for what has been done. But he does see now. And he is sorry.”

Niwa looked to Zuko, her hands folded in a gentle plea. “He’s sorry to both of you. I know that only goes so far coming from me. But… I wanted you both to know he’s stopped hiding. And if you wanted to confront him yourself, he won’t run. If you need to speak to him, he will be there.”

Niwa placed a hand on Azula’s shoulder, catching the princess’ attention as she turned, trying to force her trembling lips to become still.

“And I will be there too,” Niwa said, reaching forward to wipe a tear from Azula’s cheek.

Azula stared; emotional and still seething, but she didn’t retract herself from Niwa’s hand until she finally took a deep breath and returned to her bed, plopping down to grab the bowl of rice.

Niwa looked to Zuko, who nodded to her; and Niwa smiled before turning to leave.

As Aang saddled up Appa, Niwa stepped outside to watch Chiyo play with the bison.

“Mom! Mom!! Can I get a bison?? Please please PLLEEAAASSE?“ She begged. Niwa laughed as Chiyo bounded into her arms.

"We’ll talk to Papa about it. That is… if there are any other bison out there…”

Aang tightened Appa’s saddle. “We’ve seen clues of colonies! There have to be more out there.”

As Aang helped Katara and Zuko toss the packs into the saddle, Azula joined them outside. She passed Niwa, but not before hesitatingly reaching out to touch her shoulder.

“… Good meal,” she said before stepping away. Niwa beamed, finally getting something positive from the princess.

Back at the door of the home, Ozai stepped out. He lingered back as everyone said their goodbyes until Chiyo noticed him.

“Papa! Come say goodbye!”

Niwa turned to see Ozai; he faltered, but didn’t want to fail Chiyo; nor the promises he’d made to Niwa that morning. Azula stood rigid. Zuko was at ease as he watched his father approach.

“Fire Lord Zuko,” Ozai began. “Princess Azula. You are always welcome at our home.”

“Thank you,” Zuko said. Ozai looked to Azula, unsure of what to say as she refused to look at him.

Ozai continued. “… Have a safe trip home. Give your mother my regards.”

More silence. Ozai stepped back a bit to signal they were free to go.

Zuko looked down to Chiyo, who seemed to become confused at the cold nature of their interaction.

Anger begets more anger; and Zuko knew where he stood in that cycle. He remembered doing his best to change and how he hoped to be accepted by others. He knew the pain of rejection on both sides.

He stepped forward.

Everyone watched as the Fire Lord reached in-

and embraced Ozai.

It was tight. It was suffocating. Much like everything they’d felt leading up to that moment.

Ozai felt his son’s arms hold him, his fingers digging at his back. He trembled, tears falling from his eyes.

Zuko as well couldn’t hide his own tears. His entire body screamed at him. Fear and anger and the still constant pain of rejection was still so loud in his mind; but he hadn’t feared his father in years; and despite the uncomfortable embrace, Zuko buried his face into his father’s shoulder.

Perhaps this was both the ultimate way to prove how much they both had grown, that Zuko no longer feared Ozai, and that Ozai could now possibly begin to accept his own shortcomings without fear of retribution. Zuko was not like his father… and Ozai didn’t have to be like his anymore. He’d already proven that.

Zuko pulled away from the hug, and the two looked to each other quickly before the Fire Lord turned towards Appa in silence.

Azula gaped at her brother as he tried to compose himself. She looked to her father, but couldn’t bear to look at him much longer. Instead, she walked over to Chiyo; pulling the flame-shaped hairpiece from her topknot.

“Hey… this is for you.”

Chiyo lit up. “Really?”

“Yeah. I want you to have it. You’re part of the Fire Nation Royal Family after all.”

Chiyo giggled, and she leaped forward to hug Azula so tightly. “I’m so glad I have a big sister.”

Azula fought her own tears, and she hugged Chiyo. “Don’t forget to write, okay kid?”

“I’ll write every week!” Chiyo answered. Azula ruffled her hair and she stood, looking to Niwa, who offered a smile to the princess. Azula gave a ghost of a smile back; but as she peered Ozai’s way… she just couldn’t look at him… but she struggled to leave.

“… Write a letter sometime. Maybe I’ll read it.”

Ozai sniffled. “Yeah. I will.”

“Just so you know I’ll probably burn the first few. But if you keep trying.. one of us is bound to read one.”

Ozai chuckled. “Then I guess I’ll just have to write every day.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I’m not promising,” Ozai said. Azula finally looked his way as he nodded to her. “I’m going to do it.”

Azula’s expression dared to falter. “I don’t forgive you.”

“I don’t want you to,” Ozai said.

“… Then… I guess that’s something we both have in common now.”

“Hey. It’s a start,” Ozai said, his voice rough as he subdued his emotions.

Azula lingered one more moment before she turned towards Appa and was helped up by Zuko.

Niwa held Ozai as they watched the bison take to the sky. She heard a coughing sob escape from Ozai’s chest as he watched, and Chiyo rushed forward to wave to the team.“

"Byeee!!” She called out. “I hope we have more fun when you visit again!!”

[manforsale]

you are spreading so much false information. numbering systems are standard practice at mcr shows since back in the day and throughout frank and gerard’s solo tours. i’ve also never heard of fucking diapers being used at barricade so why don’t you think for half a second before wishing death on people you’ve never met

Okay cool numbering systems are a thing—now what? That doesn’t excuse their behavior or how they operate under the numbering system. Fan made numbering systems only work when everyone is in agreement. they also have limitations!

Here are some fan accounts of their numbering system and there are LOTS more but tumblr limits posts to only 10 images. I found them here, here, here, and here, as well as on Twitter and the notes of this post and this post

+shitty behavior and ableism

the bozo is cylia

As for the adult diapers, I didn’t say it with authority. I just said I saw someone say it. Whether it’s true or not is up for the individual to decide. It is common for people to wear adult diapers so they don’t have leave the queue they’re in. Just look up “adult diapers new year’s”. Either way I think that’s the least important part of this. Idrc if they do or not; I don’t have thousands of dollars to follow them around and find out if they smell. Like. Be serious. They’re being awful to other fans and this is what you choose to focus on…okay lol

Again, since I’m pretty sure you read my other post, you’re being deliberately oblivious and dense. And I actually thought for a full second before I drafted this response and what do you know? I STILL hope the Japanese fans crush them and if you want to be such a warrior for this group you can go ahead and die with them too <3

[daffi-990]

WIP Wednesday 📝

Tagged by @jamespearce9-1-1 & @thewolvesof1998

All the love for my last snippet from my Fantasy AU got the writing beans going and I got 2K written for it today ☺️.

A lot of you were so curious what happened to Bobby, so here is a snippet that explains things a bit. It’s set before the prev snippet I shared. I wrote this on the notes app of my phone and it’s a rough first draft so hopefully it reads well and makes sense. I really really wanted to share the whole 2K I wrote today because this girl loves validation, but I restrained myself so enjoy this long snippet instead xx

A pained groan from their right has Eddie shooting up quickly and moving towards-

“Bobby!” Buck is scrambling to his feet, feeling a bit like a newborn baby deer on wobbly legs as he closes the distance between them. He falls to his knees besides Eddie, who is helping Bobby sit up against a large rock. The arrow sticking out of Bobby’s side is surrounded by a sea of red that has spread across Bobby’s shirt. Eddie rips the fabric of the shirt open to reveal the entry wound, the smell of blood flooding Buck’s nose causing bile to rise in his throat that he quickly swallows back down.

“Shit.” Eddie hisses as he inspects the wound carefully.

Bobby winces in pain. “Eddie, you need to go.” His voice comes out strained, breaths sounding heavy with exertion and Buck is fucking terrified. He can’t lose Bobby. He can’t he can’t he can’t.

Eddie stills his hands, lifting his head to meet Bobby’s eyes. “Bobby- ”

“More are coming and you can’t fight them off alone.”

“I can fight.” Buck says with determination. Bobby made sure Buck was skilled in combat, and now Buck understands why. The soldiers hunting them aren’t going to stop if they best him. No, they’ll go for the killing blow. They’re battle hungry and fighting for a cause that they truly believe in, and that’s what makes them so dangerous, not the weapons or magic they’re wielding, though that certainly doesn’t help. Buck won’t deny that he’s scared, but he will not stand back and do nothing. “Bobby, I can fight. Let me protect you.” He pleads, blinking away the tears that have been building in his eyes. They trickle down his face, feeling warm and heavy with with grief.

Bobby smiles sadly at him, Eddie getting to his feet and stepping back to give them some space. “I know you can, Buck.” His hand lands on Buck’s neck, thumb a comforting weight on the hinge of his jaw. “But there’s fifteen more armed soldiers coming and the two of you can’t fight that many, not with so much at risk.” He looks pointedly at Buck now and Buck wants to scream and yell at whatever deity dealt him these cards. He closes his eyes against the fresh onslaught of tears. “You need to go. Eddie will protect you and keep you safe.”

Buck shakes his head vehemently. “No, no I’m not leaving you.” He won’t leave Bobby here to die alone, he’ll die with him if it comes down to it. Bobby saved Buck all those years ago, has been saving him every day of his life just by existing and loving him, now it’s Buck’s turn to return the favour. He opens his eyes and meets Bobby’s with a new sense of determination. He is not leaving him.

Bobby looks over Buck’s shoulder and gives a small nod of his head before strong arms are wrapping around Buck and pulling him away.

“No! I’m not leaving you!” Buck fights against Eddie’s arms, thrashing and kicking out, desperately trying to get back to Bobby. He is not leaving him. “Bobby! Don’t do this! Dad!”

“May Elrus guide your soul, Robert Nash.” Eddie says, Buck feeling the vibrations from his voice along his back before Eddie tightens his arms around Buck and then the ground beneath his feet is gone, air whipping around them as they shoot into the sky.

Buck yells, clutching onto Eddie’s arms, stomach swooping like he’s on the drop of a rollercoaster. A strong gust of wind blows and sends them soaring through the air, the shape of Bobby growing smaller and smaller until Buck can no longer see him through the haze of tears freely falling from his eyes.

No pressure tagging: @hippolotamus @callmenewbie @spotsandsocks @wikiangela @watchyourbuck @exhuastedpigeon @malewifediaz @lover-of-mine @theotherbuckley @loserdiaz @wildlife4life @eddiebabygirldiaz @ladydorian05 @spagheddiediaz @fortheloveofbuddie @hoodie-buck @giddyupbuck @athenagranted @rainbow-nerdss @weewootruck @steadfastsaturnsrings @captain-hen @monsterrae1 @try-set-me-on-fire @the-likesofus @jesuisici33 @jeeyuns @devirnis @disasterbuckdiaz

[amywritesthings]

SILVER UNDERGROUND / deleted scene 02.

the first face i saw. :: an alternate version, aka the first draft, of that forest moment in chapter nine.

welcome to my segment of deleted scenes, levi's pov, and alternative 'almosts' that didn't quite make the published cut. this scene was the very first thing i wrote for this story! this is the earliest know blurb of SU. originally it was quite abrupt, and i much prefer the buildup that ended up happening in the story. may this be a lesson to writers: write the dang thing, don't agonize about a perfect scene, because when you go back to edit the epiphany of how you really want the scene to go will just come naturally! this is unedited. 1.2K words / explicit language, fighting. :: please remember: this is additional deleted content, not tied to the current canon of the story.

“I’m not going back.”

Levi is expressionless, but there is a hint of anger in his clipped question. “So you’re disobeying direct orders?”

“You didn’t order me, sir,” you reply. “You only suggested I go back. There’s a distinct difference.”

“Don’t be a smartass.”

Except the murmur is a thinly-veiled threat and nothing more. Somehow you’re confident enough about it that you take a few steps forward into the wide gap between you.

“You need the numbers,” you urge.

“No, shithead, what I need is for you to leave.”

“Why?”

“Disobeying orders and questioning your superior. Are you trying to rack up all possible offenses in one night?”

“I am trying to understand why you’re so adamant about giving the squad one less body in the lineup when we’ve already lost so many people—”

“Enough.”

“—and back-up would be at least a day away on horseback, which means we’re sitting ducks until we work together to get out of the forest with as many people alive as we—”

“I said enough, cadet,” Levi barks, and something ignites in you.

Something toxic that leads you to take another step forward, teeth bared.

“I’m not a fucking cadet, Levi, so stop pretending I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

The swear is not as surprising as hearing his first name on your tongue. If you didn’t know any better, then you would swear Levi is just as surprised. A tick of his brow is the giveaway: both move from their typical neutral position, and suddenly the air feels thick around you.

“Do you?” he challenges, low and dangerous as he mirrors your step forward. “Because last I checked, you were just some dumbass with a fucked up memory.”

The insult stings its intended target. You wince, but hold your ground.

“I was once on this squad, sir.”

“That doesn’t mean shit in the present.”

“It does to me,” you confess. Your voice raises to shout. “It matters that I fought! It matters that I’m here. I don’t know why you hate me so much—”

“I thought it would be obvious by now,” Levi flatly interrupts.

You trudge closer towards your captain, but he minds the gap for you: one step of his boot and he’s eye-to-eye with you, here, in the middle of this clearing.

The green flecks in the gray of his eyes bring some sickening softness to your belly, quelling a fraction of the fire within. It reminds you of summertime and darkness. A dichotomy of things you once loved — and things that once scared you.

Levi stares head on, seemingly disinterested in your shouting.

Yet when your eyes drop to his arm, you see the most obvious tell of all: his fist is pale, fingers gripped in a white-knuckle ball of restraint.

So you ask the first question that comes to mind:

“Then why do you want me to live so badly?”

By the sound of his breath hitching in his throat, it’s safe to assume your question has caught Humanity’s Strongest off guard. Painfully earnest, the words are woven in a confusion threatening to choke the life out of you. And Levi — Levi is four shades of enraged, glaring straight through you.

“I don’t give a shit if you live,” Levi corrects with a snarl.

“You don’t?”

“No.”

“Then allow me to stay.”

“No.”

Your chin tilts. “Then why—”

“Why do you want to die so fucking bad?” he snaps, his spit hitting your cheek. “Why bother waking up in that fucking rubble if all you wanted to do was throw away your second chance?”

His anger almost leaves you speechless.

Almost.

Except this feeling, this mindless fight, is the most familiar with the world as you’ve felt since waking up in that hospital. As if you like shouting, ready to throw fists.

As if you enjoy Levi yelling at you.

“Yours was the first face I saw when I woke up, sir,” you bite in response, forcing his jaw to clench. “I didn’t receive the recommendation for reinstatement out of thin fucking air. I went through modified training. I watched you visit the camps between missions. You didn’t have to check up on me, but you did.”

Levi’s mouth twitches.

“For someone who claims they don’t give a shit if I live you sure have a mighty big hand in the pot to ensure my safety, so what the fuck is the real reason behind ordering that I go back to the Walls?”

You manage to relay your monologue of grievances uninterrupted. Something dark brews behind Levi’s stormy eyes, stuck on your wide-eyed gaze.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” he asks, low and steady, but there’s a glimmer of something else in his voice.

If it was anyone else, then it might have been something close to fondness, but it can’t be.

“Yeah?" you challenge. "Well, trying to keep up with your snarky ass, I couldn’t—”

You're pushed back by the sheer force of his lips.

His...

Your eyes open, then widen, at the sight of Levi Ackerman pressing a kiss to your mouth. Your body responds before you even understand why -- you drag him closer, hands buried in his hair, and respond in kind.

Everything feels too hot and too cold. Everything feels... good. You kiss back with such intensity that you feel his teeth.

Your world goes blank.

.

.

.

.

“What was that all about?” Petra’s voice comes out monotone, awaking you for a moment of dissociation.

Truthfully? You wish you had an answer.

You barely remember Levi telling you to go back to camp to rest.

You can't think of anything else except that:

The tingle of his lips pushed against yours lingers long after he’s departed.

There is a haze in your brain that takes over the fog of your amnesia, settling on a feeling beyond all else: warmth.

Even if you nearly went fist to fist with the Captain — a stupid, costly mistake — everything in your body is warm in the cool midnight air.

Maybe it was a mistake.

No, it was a mistake.

(One that the squad cannot know about, for both of your sakes.)

“We fought,” you provide just as flat.

“I know,” she says. “I heard. You used to do that a lot.”

You turn to study the glow of green on her back from her cloak.

“Argue to the brink of a fight,” she clarifies. “With Levi.”

When you say nothing, she cranes her chin over her shoulder. Although she doesn’t smile, her tone is melodic. Cheery, like there’s something funny between the lines.

“Before, you didn’t mind getting in his face if you two disagreed. I’ve never seen Levi get so angry. It’s a wonder he never punished you.”

So this was a common occurrence.

Did he always end it with a kiss?

Your warmth begins to fade as Petra’s words catch up to you, and you squeeze the fist at your side. “How much did you hear?”

“Don’t worry,” she assures, poking the dying embers with a stick. “I didn’t eavesdrop.”

[kat-rose-griffith]

Hi. I love you blog ❤️

But I have an unpleasant question to ask. I hope it doesn’t bring your mood down and I hope that you may have some advice.

I love the Bridgerton community here and I genuinely enjoy the series analyses and the memes and love and praise for the actors. But you know how the situation with Luke has been recently.

I had to block #lukola and lukola content since the comments are mostly generated under this tag. I know that not everyone is using it romantically but I hoped that it will bring down the amount of posts that make me see red or genuinely depressed me. And I still have to block users just to remove their posts from my dash even though I thought that the filter may help.

I want to generate positivity instead of fighting but some posts are just THAT outrageous that I feel the need to dismantle them. By doing that I feel like I keep the hate train rolling simply by bringing the content of these posts into question in order to point out how harmful they are. I’ve also tried doing nothing and ignoring, but it feels like I’m letting the baseless cruelty slide and letting my principles and who I am at the core down.

I’m not sure what to do anymore and I’m thinking about stepping away from all social media for a while. But this thought also makes me sad because I used to love it here and I still (sometimes) do.

Do you have any advice? How do you deal with this? Maybe I have to filter something more? Do you see any way to contribute something good without fighting but also without hiding and running away from the tide?

If I’ve overstepped, I am sorry, and if you decide to remove the ask or not answer it I would absolutely understand. Thank you for listening in any case ❤️

Oh my gosh you’re so sweet. Thank you so much for enjoying my blog. That means so much to me and I truly appreciate it!

As far as advice goes I don’t know if I have a lot. I know it can get really hard to not let other peoples hatred and negativity bring you down. It can get really frustrating especially when the hate is as illogical and unwarranted as the harassment that the bridgerton actors, especially Luke, have been getting. It’s not guaranteed but hopefully the aggression will die down with some time as people move on with their lives. Just know that you’re not alone in these feelings.

I’m personally pretty susceptible to this kind of negativity too. That’s why tumblr is my only form of social media. The way that I try to work with those reactionary feelings is pretty similar to what you’re already doing. Whenever I see something that affects me like that I just block it and move on. Sometimes I do forget to do that and get wrapped up in scrolling through the hate or typing up a response, but then I have to stop myself and think if it’s really worth my time. I remind myself that these people want attention and they want the notes on their posts to feel validated in their opinions. It is hard but the best course of action is to try to just ignore them because they’re truly not worth the stress or energy.

With that I do want to say don’t be afraid to vent your feelings on your own blog. If you don’t feel comfortable putting it in the tag or associating it with your blog because you don’t want to deal with those people harassing you there that’s completely fine. You can always leave it untagged, type it up but leave it in your drafts, create a side blog just for that, or block them when they leave an upsetting comment. I’ve just found that it’s helpful to me to let out how I feel on here instead of holding it in and it’s especially helpful when I find people who actually get it and share my feelings. That’s actually one of my favorite things about tumblr.

Another thing that I try to do is just make my blog a nice place that I’m proud of, which is why you liking my blog has made me very happy. I try to share as many things that I like as I can. With the negativity in the tag surrounding Luke I’ve just been trying to counter it with any positive post that comes to my mind to drown out how negative and hateful some people have been. These people aren’t the majority, they’re just loud. That’s why whenever I’ve been making posts about this season I’ve been putting them in Luke and Nicola’s tags. If you have other social media accounts spamming the cast and their tags with love, complements, or just anything that’s not hateful to counter the hate spamming that they get is always a good idea too.

All that being said if it is all too much I always recommend just stepping away from social media for a second. It can be very overwhelming and hard to remember that it’s not real life, so if you ever feel like it’s effecting you too much just check in with yourself and walk away, for at least a bit.

I know that’s not great advice, but I’m going to post this in all of the tags that I use for bridgerton to see if anyone else has any advice that might be a bit more helpful. I’m very sorry that you’ve been experiencing this too and I hope that it gets better. Thank you so much for liking my blog, that really did make my day

[the-scaredy-crow]

Hello Writeblr

I am Max, an aspiring author. I have been crafting up stories for as long as I can remember. My dream is to finally publish a book.

My Style:

Fantasy is my main genre

Most of my characters are queer

Lots of found family

I'm a sucker for hurt/comfort

All stories are written in third person

I always love hearing from new people, so feel free to say hi!

Here is a look at some of my current projects (below the cut):

Main wip

Kindling Bones

🔥🦴Intro🦴🔥

Tag - KindBones

Rhys and Adam are both running. One runs from a life he's already lived and the other from a life he doesn't want. Neither expected all that running to lead them straight to each other.

Main characters:

Rhys- He is a desperate man. As a child, he was desperate for his parents' attention, desperate to fit in, desperate to step out of his older brother's impossible shadow. At eighteen, with his life burning around him, Rhys was desperate for every breath he barely drew in. Now, years later, Rhys is desperate for a life he can't possibly earn.

Adam- Like everyone else who has one, Adam never asked for his ability. He never asked for this thing that would dictate his life. Some people consider abilities to be gifts; they believe an ability is a manifestation of a person's purpose. His parents fell into this group, and without abilities of their own, they focused all their attention on Adam and his ability. Adam pursued a degree in nursing because of them, despite how miserable it made him.

Genre: magical-realism

Warnings: violence, slight gore, arson, death, grief

Progress: 2/3 of first draft

Next up

Damsel Not in Distress

🐉👑No intro yet👑🐉

Tag - NotInDistress

For the first time in nearly twenty years, a dragon has resurfaced, only to steal away the princess of Castanum, weeks before she is to be married off to a foreign prince. Her parents, the rulers of Castanum, send princes and knights from across the land and the king of their ally kingdom, but none manage to kill this final dragon. They have sent even their best of the former dragon hunters, and still they do not have their princess back.

They are just desperate enough to turn to their enemy. With the promise of an alliance or a war, they leave the peace-loving, dragon sympathizers of Bershar with no choice but to send their own prince to slay the dragon. It goes against everything the people of Bershar hold dear, but their prince is willing to do anything for his people. And the knight the rulers of Bershar send with him is willing to go against even her strongest beliefs for the reward promised to her family. So, the king and queen of Castanum place all their remaining hope in the hands of a prince whose only repayment is a marriage he doesn’t want and a knight being asked to break her sacred oath in order to see this mission through.

Main characters:

Leanne- princess of Castanum. For the last two years she has lived in an abandoned castle with the dragon who took her from her kingdom.

Adalina- one of the most skilled knights of Bershar, sent with her prince on a mission to rescue the princess. She is torn between her loyalty to her kingdom—along with the hefty prize that is to be given to her family—and her promise to serve dragonkind.

Roque- prince of Bershar. He puts his duty to his kingdom above all; anything he can do to better the lives of his people, he will do in a heartbeat, regardless of what it might cost him.

Taro- the dragon.

Genre: fantasy

Warnings: some gore, violence

Progress: Plotting, first few chapters started

Project Guard Dog

🪽✨No intro yet✨🪽

Tag - ProGuardDog

What would you do for a second chance at life?

For a lucky few living in Aatia, a second chance at life is very literal. Many die in unfortunate circumstances, long before their time. The goddess Aatia, selects those strong enough to serve her and sends them back to her land with special gifts. Their sole purpose is to protect the people who carry her magic and to assist them in the war against Aatia's brother-country, and the goddess's twin, Botslov. When the war is won, Aatia promises to grant these Guardians a true second chance at their lives, a free life that many of them never would have had a shot at in even their original lives.

Main Characters:

Alex- a college student working towards a degree in Guardian Sciences. She won a contest at school and had the opportunity to get a Guardian of her own- an incredible prize for someone as fascinated by Guardians as she is. Her plan was always to continue studying, but Alex gets pulled into the war when she gets her Guardian.

Lucio- Alex's best friend/roommate, a Magus fighting in the Twins' War, and the son of one of the greatest generals of her time. He is shaping up to be one of the most powerful water Magi of his generation.

Katzyr- the red-winged Guardian of Lucio. Katzyr and Lucio have a bit of a strange contract because Katzyr comes and goes as he pleases- though he is always there when Lucio needs him. In his previous life, Katzyr was trained as an assassin in the Betrayer's city. He only recently died, and Lucio is his first assignment.

Orion- Alex's Guardian. He is a mystery to all of Magi and Guardian society. As a recycled Guardian, Orion should have memories of both his original life as well as his previous assignments. He appears before Alex with no knowledge of who he is or of what it means to be a Guardian.

Genre: fantasy

Warnings: violence, death, war

Progress: plotting

There are always so many stories rattling around in my brain, but those are the ones I'm trying to focus on.