#I am getting TIRED of shipping wars being brewed in the fandom | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

skunts-own-truth · 5 years

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Hey, I wanna talk about the internet a little, so buckle up.

I think I would enjoy the internet a bit more on a whole if folks didn’t treat Tumblr, Twitter, Reddit, 4chan, online personas, interactions with total strangers, and fiction as more personal and real than the real world itself. I’m really tired of seeing losers sending angry messages and death threats to people over anon because of “spoiler culture,” I’m tired of folks being outraged and crushed by something a god damn stranger you’ll never meet said about you or about some fiction, it’s exhausting to see folks take everything so seriously online and I’m about done with it. It’s disgusting to me that people get into such heated arguments over likes and dislikes in fiction, or hell, this weird ass phenomenon of fools acting superior to others because they value corporate-made-entertainment like Star Wars, the Harry Potter movies, or the Avengers movies more than their actual life. Even in the fandoms I’m in, man, it sickens me to see folks calling each other shitty names because someone likes one faction or another in Warhammer. Chill. That’s all I ask of everyone; just chill a little. You don’t gotta take everything so seriously, ya feel me? Shit ain’t real. I’m getting to this point in my old age of 26 where I’m starting to be ashamed again for liking nerdy things. Not because of the material, not because I feel bad for enjoying something like rolling dice or reading comics; nah, that shit’s fine. I love doing that, and reading/watching the material! I’m starting to be ashamed of you weird ass goobers screaming at each other, and just downright shattering over the fact that someone dislikes your favorite character, or says your ship is bad, or whatever. There’s this buckwild thing that keeps happening on the internet for me, where someone in my feed radar acts like a god damn child over some goofy-ass stuff, and... man I always think they’re 16 or so because of their behavior, but they always turn out to be in their early to mid 30s. I can shrug off a kid acting like a demon over fiction, but god damn, folks. Grow a backbone. A criticism against something you like ain’t a criticism of you; I love a TON of bad shit that no one enjoys. No skin off my bones if someone shit-talks Warhammer, or the Burning Wheel RPG, like homie, why would I be mad at that? And this one’s gonna come out of left field, but while I’m saying shit; you don’t get a pass to be a terrible nightmare asshole because you were abused. You need to check yourself, hold yourself accountable for your own actions, and face your mental issues like the god damn human being you are. Listen, I’ve struggled with that my whole life; I got my damn dick skin peeled off in a nasty rape, I’ve had personality issues, dysphoria, depression, and you know what? I hold myself accountable and responsible when my god damn mental illnesses affect other people. It is not other folks job to keep you grounded; friends absolutely do not have to be of use to you to be friends, and if you believe that- if you think that a friend is someone who you can use as a crutch for your mental illness without giving anything back to them no questions asked? You’re a shit friend, and it’s not their fault. It is yours. So, check yourself, do everything you can to rage against your own brain, and never stop fighting. Get professional help, get drugs, do whatever you can to battle your mind back into some semblance of normalcy- or, I guess drown in it, but do NOT expect others to take care of you, and do NOT judge others for not being there for you when you’re not even attempting to be there for yourself. That’s not the job of a friend, that’s the job of a therapist. Also, god damn, I will be all day at this but True Gamer culture is vile and sickening, and this isn’t something I have to see often but... man, you’re not better than anyone because you press keys on your computer and move a dude on a screen. That’s not a shot at Esports or whatever, that’s a shot at people who look down on others because they think playing a game on hard mode is an actual achievement to be proud of. Which, you know what? Maybe it can be, but it sure as hell doesn’t give you the right to make fun of your mom because she plays Candy Crush, you sick little dweeb. Hey, come sit with me here for a second. Pull up a chair, I’d like to tell you something. Now, I know I’m sitting here telling people not to be angry at each other over multimedia, and to not take strangers seriously; and I do mean that. That sounds a bit like what I’m doing, right? Eh, maybe. Could be, but at least I’m not running an actress off of Twitter with hate mail because your cheese-ball sci-fi movie didn’t live up to expectations. That’s the difference to me, at the very least; me being sickened by the state of pissbabies online, rather than me going online and telling someone to kill themselves because they let everyone know Tony Stark dies in Endgame. Hey, you know you may not see that as a different thing, but I do. I can say for sure I ain’t losing any sleep over it, though, honey. Not really looking for a discussion here either, I just wanted to get out some thoughts that have brewing in the dome all day about how weirdly religiously fanatic a lot of nasty internet behavior is, and just how deeply offputting it all is to me. Not looking for your hot takes, nor am I looking to piss anyone off, just blasting some steam out from the dome, you feel?

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littlebitoffanfic · 5 years

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A Marital Bed System

Fandom: Star wars Character: Hux Relationship: Hux/reader Request: I really enjoyed binging on all your hux x readers. Could you write me one where hux keeps leaving in the middle of the night to work. Make it super angsty but happy ending? When you woke up, you immediately knew your bed was empty. You didn’t even need to open your eyes to know. Sitting up, you stretch, allowing the sheet to fall from your body as you moved out of bed to grab a dressing gown and head into the next room of the small apartment. Still no sign of Hux, meaning he must be in his office just down the corridor. It was both an advantage to have his place of work so close but it was also a nightmare since Hux struggled to leave his work at the door when he came back. Knowing there wouldn’t be anyone about anyway, you decided just to go to him in your nightgown and robe. It covered your dignity anyway so even if someone did see you, there wouldn’t be an issue. your bare feet padded along the hallway before you came to the door of his office. You didn’t even knock, just walked straight in. It was a benefit of being the wife of the general. The second you entered, you heard a curse from within. “Damn.” Hux hissed, looking up from desk which had papers scattered across it as well as 3 screens projecting data onto the wall beside him. “Sorry to bother you.” You frowned, annoyed by his reaction to you entering the room. “I hoped you wouldn’t wake.” He shook his head, standing straight and looking at you. “Will you come back to bed any time soon?” You asked, wrapping your arms around yourself, the office a lot cooler than the rest of the ship. “i…”He trails off before looking away from you. “Probably not.” signing, you couldn’t hide your disappointment as your shoulders slouched. You couldn’t look at him anymore. This was the 10th time in 2 weeks you had woken up on your own. While you understood he was in a high position and respected that he had a mighty weight on his shoulders, you missed him. Over the last 2 years especially, he had become so demanded by his work, you barely saw him. He did make time for you, but it really wasn’t enough. You could tell he felt guilty about it and you knew he wanted more time with you, but he couldn’t give it to you. No one could doubt he loved you, and you knew he did all this for you as well as himself. But that didn’t make it any easier. You knew today had been hard for him. The supreme leader had been rather… ‘displeased’ by his work. This had result in him being thrown across the room like a ragdoll. You had been there but couldn’t do anything. Hux had been distance from you all day after that incident. You had just assumed his pride had been hurt. blinking back tears, you walk up to his desk and pick up his data pad. Hux saw your eyes watering. “[y/n], I am truly sorry.” He sounded genuine and you smiled despite your tears as you punched something into his data pad. “I know.” You look up and him and pass him back his data pad, showing an order for coffee and something to eat to his office. “Just make sure you get some sleep, darling.” You turned around and walked out the office, leaving Hux stunned. once you got back to your quarters, you pressed yourself against the wall and cried. Covering your mouth with your hand, you tried to silence the gasps for air and cries but couldn’t. You knew you weren’t going to get back to sleep without crying yourself to sleep and that didn’t sound too appealing right now, then your data pad light up from the table. Walking over, you saw a message from Hux. “do you wish to leave?” frowning, you felt a small rage brew inside you. Was he really trying to start a fight with you over messages? Especially when he was in the room just along the hallway. throwing down your data pad, you stormed out the room, anger now taking over your sadness as you threw open the door to his office. but then you heard a sniff and saw Hux had collapsed in his chair, he held his head in his hands on the table and seemed to be weeping like a broken man. “Im sorry.” He whispered. “I cant. You deserve better than this.” He shook his head, refusing to look at you. All the anger melted away when you saw him like this. He was a hard man to break, and even after 15 years of marriage, you had barley seen him cry. and never like such a broken man. “If you wish to leave, I wont begrudge you. I never deserved you. You should never have married me. You should have found a man who could give you everything.” He shook his head in his hands, growling more to himself than to you. That was when you noticed the drinks cabinet was open. While Hux did handle his alcohol well in a normal situation, when he was stressed and turned to drink it was different. All his deepest fears came out, all his darkest secret, every emotion he tried to conceal left his lips as alcohol entered. “I did.” Was all you said as you walked around the desk and leaned over the back of his chair, wrapping your arms around him. But he pushed back the chair, pushing you away as he stood and moved quickly for the drink. “No, you didn’t. im not a man at all.” He took a deep swig of the drink straight from the bottle. His hands were shaking as he did so. “No man lets his wife sleep alone. Or cry. Because he cant get a damn thing right.” you jumped as he threw the bottle across the room and it smashed on the opposite wall. His hunched over, breathing deeply while shaking and swaying on the spot. “you deserve better.” Hux whispered. You couldn’t take much more of this. Tears were running down your cheek and you wanted nothing more than for this to be over. You hated seeing him in such a desperate and depressed state. You did the only thing you could think of. The only thing that seemed to fix everything so far. Darting around him, you pressed your lips to his before he could protest. Unlike before, he wasn’t able to just pull away from your lips. He never could. His hands grabbed you by the waist and help you against his chest, tightly like he was afraid of loosing you. And he was. He was more than aware that if the supreme leader demanded it, you could be taken from him, shipped away to only see him on occasions. If he didn’t get his act together, it was a very real possibility. He couldn’t imagine his life without you anymore. You were the one constantly good thing. And yet, he didn’t want this sort of life for you. He knew you didn’t like spending every breathing moment on this ship, but you never begrudged him, never complained. You didn’t complain about the crap canteen food you survived on, nor the lack of interactions with your friends and family. You just smiled and said you were grateful he was here with you. One night, that’s all you had wanted from him. One single night to remain in your quarters. And he was unable to give it to you. he could afford anything. He could get you any gadget or jewellery you wanted. Hell, he could even get you your own ship which you could use for traveling in. but you never asked for anything, just his presents. Hux swayed against you, his mind racing. He could get you a little ship, one which you could use to go see your family and friends when needed. He was sure the supreme leader wouldn’t care if he was able to secure it so it could be tracked by the first order and monitored so no one would attack or hack it. And as for his attention, he knew that he could take some time off. Even just a couple of days. You’d enjoy that. You felt Hux relax considerably during the kiss, making you relax in turn. Soon the kiss had turned from desperate to passionate but calm. You pulled away for air, your cheeks a little pink from the kiss. “I think you should come back to bed. Just for a little while.” You smile as you run your fingers of his cheeks before fixing his hair. All hux is able to do is nod as you take his hand in your and lead him out of the office, glad to leave the place that had all his alcohol. You thought about the coffee and food you had ordered, but you knew if he wasn’t in the office, they would leave it on the table. You could deal with that tomorrow and if he went back to work in a few hours, he would have something at lease. Once back in your room, you took off your dressing gown and then moved to him. He had been known to sleep in shirts and trousers before, but you knew he didn’t like when the shirt was buttoned up. Your fingers un did all the buttons before you leaned in and pressed soft kisses along his collar bone and then up his neck. Hux wrapped his arms lazily around you as he did so. The cool and fresh air in the apartment sobering him a little more. “I do love you, you know that right?” He speaks in a low and tired voice as you pull away to look up at him. “I know. And I love you.” You smile, even after 15 years of marriage, a confession of love still meant the world to you. Pulling him to bed, he wrapped himself around you once you were both under the covered. You smiled, lazily draping your arm over his torso to run your fingertip up and down his back. “I think-“ You started, drawing his attention down to you. “-that we should have a system.” “What sort of system?” Hux couldn’t help but chuckle at your suggestion. “well, you’re only allowed to leave here 3 times a week after we go to bed. And if you only leave 2 times, your allotted time can be transferred to the next week. So you can bank time in case you have a busy week.” You look up to him for approvable but saw a soft smile on his lips as he stared lovingly down at you. “and what would this system be called?” he asked, humouring you but liking the idea. He always did work best with restrictions, so something like that might help him manage things better. “the Marital Bed System. Or MBS for short.” You giggle. “my dear, I do not deserve you.” He whispers as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Perhaps not, but you need me.” You quip, making Hux let out a laugh. “Truer words have never been spoke.” Hux yawns as he closes his eyes, falling asleep with you in his arms as it should be.

#star wars #general hux #general hux x reader #general hux/reader #general armitage hux x reader #general armitage hux #hux #hux x reader #armitage hux #armitage hux x reader

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atomicpen · 6 years

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Just

Chapter 4

fandom: Avatar: the Last Airbender POV: Katara wordcount: ~3999

ff.net ao3

With Just Waves as Witness

Salt spray coated her face and threaded her hair, and nothing had ever felt or tasted so good. She wondered if this was what freedom tasted like, or if she was being dramatic about it.

Katara stood on the prow of the Fire Nation ship and stared out across the undulating blue horizon. They had left the Earth Kingdom just under a week prior, and it’d been four days since they last saw land of any sort. It would be at least another week or so until they saw the first of the Fire Nation islands, and even longer than that before they reached the capital. For now, blue stretched out all around—scattered across the sky were a few clouds, and the sea was deep and clear. In talking with the captain, she’d learned that there were several sea lanes that followed strong currents between the nations, and the Fire Nation had many of them mapped and regularly utilized them to a ship’s advantage.

It felt like they were making good time, but from what Zuko told her, they were actually sailing leisurely. It was so different from a cutter ship, where they might make this kind of speed only for a short while if the winds were very kind. Her mouth pulled into a frown and she leaned on the rail. It felt like a long time since she’d traveled by sea, with as much time as she spent on Appa after the war was over; with as much time as she spent traveling with Aang.

A pang of guilt and disquiet twisted in her stomach. Was this the right choice, what she was doing? She knew she could help—she wanted to—but was going to the Fire Nation as ambassador from the Water Tribe enough to outweigh her accompanying Aang as he did his work? Her frown deepened. It felt a lot like running away.

“Good afternoon, Master Katara.” A pleasant voice broke up her thoughts.

She smiled and glanced back over her shoulder as Zuko’s uncle joined her at the prow. “Good Afternoon to you, too. Another nice day, isn’t it?”

“Yes! The weather has been very kind to us this trip. I must admit,” he continued, standing next to her and looking from her to the sea, “I am quite surprised that my nephew has decided to make our journey back with more leisure than is his custom.” A smile spread across his face and the corners of his eyes crinkled. “But, I am not complaining—whatever the reason, I welcome it.”

A soft noise cousin to a hum signaled her agreement. “Me, too. I love sailing, and it feels like it’s been a long time since I was out on the open sea.” Katara’s shoulders relaxed as she followed Iroh’s gaze. “And sometimes it’s just nice to take your time.”

“You are right, and very wise to understand such a thing at your age. It is a bit of wisdom that I often worry my nephew will never quite take to heart.”

Katara laughed. “Oh, I don’t know. Once Zuko’s put his mind to something, he follows through to the bitter end. Maybe you just need to convince him slowing down is something he needs to learn to do.”

“Ah, that is something that I have been trying for years now, I’m afraid.” His eyes were merry, and focused on her in a way she might have thought calculating had it occurred to her. “Perhaps it is a thing better left in another’s hands at this point.”

Before she could think to say anything, he continued, “Would you join us for lunch, or shall I leave you to the sea for a while longer?”

Katara hesitated, but then pushed off the rail. “The sea will still be here, I’m pretty sure. Lunch sounds great.”

Lunch turned out to be on the observation deck, where she could see the ocean anyway. Iroh brewed a ginger and orange blossom tea, which he declared would compliment their food marvelously. Katara was pouring it when Zuko joined them.

“Ah, Nephew. I am happy you could join us,” Iroh exclaimed as Zuko took a seat at the end of the table, where he could see both of them.

“The food should be up soon,” Zuko told them, taking a cup from her with a nod of thanks. He lifted it beneath his nose. “Is this a new blend, Uncle?”

The old man in question lost half his face to a grin. “You are developing quite a good nose; it is.” He gesticulated gently as he spoke. “I wanted something simple, yet complementary to go with our lunch.”

“We’re just having leftover curry,” Zuko said. “It’s not anything to make a special blend for.” Still, he took an appreciative sip of the tea.

Two crew members brought up their food and Iroh turned his attention to thanking them. Katara took advantage of his distraction and leaned close to Zuko. “I think your uncle just likes experimenting,” she said in a quiet voice that did nothing to hide her amusement.

The way his mouth curved made part of her chest fill with warmth. “I know. It reminds me of the years we were on my ship. He was always having us make port for different kinds of teas… and anything else interesting that caught his eye.”

The dip in his tone made Katara giggle. “I sense a lot of stories there.”

Zuko rolled his eyes. “You have no idea.”

Bowls were placed before them and a thick curry ladled into them, accompanied by smaller bowls of rice. The curry smelled like it was going to be spicy, and she found herself looking forward to the heat. Katara peered at it, wondering just when she had developed a liking for spicy foods.

“It’s not too hot,” Zuko said suddenly. She blinked up at him, and his cheeks tinged with color as he shifted his gaze away from hers. “I mean—I know you’re not as used to spices as us—you know, hot spices.”

Katara could not resist a little affectation. “By now I’ve gotten used to dealing with heat,” she said, and he looked at her again, bemused. “Zuko, you remember I’ve been on the ship the whole time, right? And I was in the Fire Nation for several weeks, living off the spicy land.”

Iroh chuckled across the table from her, and Zuko’s face reddened more, but he didn’t back down. “Should I see if the cook can whip up some east island dishes for you then? Those even make me sweat sometimes.”

His challenge made something winch a little tighter in her belly. “You’re on. I bet I can handle it just as well as you can.”

The smirk that he sent her way stoked the competitive spark in her, and she suddenly wanted to drag him down to the deck and go toe to toe with him. She hadn’t had much chance to stretch her bending since the war ended, and never with Zuko. She wondered if they sparred as well as they fought together.

“Zuko,” she began, idly twisting her wrist to stir her curry, “what do you think about getting a good workout in while we’re still on the ship?”

Almost as soon as she asked, he started coughing, slamming the porcelain spoon in his hand down on the table. Katara glanced worriedly at Iroh, who seemed unperturbed.

“Nephew, are you all right?”

Zuko waved them both off and reached for his teacup. After a few sips, he calmed down, though his face and neck were still flush.

“I didn't realize an offer to spar would be so surprising,” Katara droned.

“Sparring!” Zuko echoed. “Yes. No, it wasn’t—yes. I would very much like to spar.”

Katara took a spoonful of curry to hide her smile. It was spicy, but not so much that it burned the subtleties of flavor away. While in disguise during the war, she had tasted a few foods from Fire Nation markets that she couldn’t even tell what they were supposed to taste like, they were so spicy. This was good, though—a nice heat down the back of her throat while still allowing her to savor it.

“How about later today, then?” she offered.

“No, no, no. That won’t work at all,” Iroh interjected, quite adamantly. Both Zuko and Katara stared at him. “It’s the end of the week,” he said, as if that were a fitting explanation.

At a loss, Katara looked to Zuko for some sort of elaboration. Instead of giving her an answer, however, he closed his eyes and his shoulders slumped.

“I forgot,” he groaned. “Can’t we just… skip it this trip?”

Iroh gasped, utterly aghast. “Nephew, how could you even suggest such a thing! The crew has come to expect—no, anticipate it!”

Tired of not knowing what they were talking about, Katara pressed, “Anticipate what? What’s going on?”

“Music night, of course!” Iroh beamed at her; Zuko looked as if he wanted to dunk his head in the curry. “Once a week, the crew all gathers with instruments for song and dance.” He lifted his spoon in a vague salute. “It was our custom during the war.”

“That actually sounds like a lot of fun,” Katara said, rousing another beleaguered sigh from Zuko. Ignoring him, she looked, bright-eyed, at Iroh. “Can anyone join in?”

“Of course,” Iroh told her, sounding delighted she had taken to the idea. “Do you play?”

“If there’s a morin khuur, I just might.”

Zuko perked up, just a little, with curiosity. “A what?”

“It’s a string instrument of the Water Tribes,” his uncle answered. “But, I’m afraid we do not have one—I have not seen, or heard, a proper morin khuur in many years.”

“Oh.” Katara tried not to allow disappointment seep into her voice, but she sounded crestfallen even to her own ears. She tried to pick up the pieces and brighten her tone. “That’s okay, I can just listen.”

Iroh stroked his beard, already lost in thought. “Even though we don’t have a proper one, we do happen to have a kokyū on board. It is not the same, but quite similar. I am sure that its owner would be delighted to have you play.”

An old aching hollow settled in her chest, but she smiled and nodded as if it hadn’t. She had years of practice pushing back any of the sorrow she felt from the loss of her culture, so the suppression was second nature. Of course there weren’t any morin khuur on board. Katara wondered if they would find her khoomei singing to be barbaric, or simply exotic and different.

Those were unfair thoughts to have, she realized, and did her best to quell them. So, she deftly changed the subject and they finished out lunch with pleasant conversation; Iroh seemed just as happy to talk about something else, and she guessed Zuko was probably glad for the change in topic.

Afterward, Katara excused herself to return to the rail again. Her thoughts wandered back to music night and she chastised herself for falling back into old, bad habits. Letting out a breath in a rush, she leaned out over the edge of the rail, her hair stirring in the wind.

Closing her eyes, she breathed in deep the brine smell of the sea, and let the spray in the air settle into her skin. It helped her find her center again. She felt so off-kilter lately, from her decision to stop traveling around with Aang to the faded traditions of her Tribe still digging hollow within her. She wasn’t entirely certain going to the Fire Nation to be a Water Tribe Ambassador was the right thing for her to do, but it was something that she chose to do. It was her suggestion, it was her choice to offer herself for that role, and that, at least, felt right.

She felt warmth, as if someone had brought a torch into her proximity, and didn’t need to look to know who it was.

“I’m sorry,” Zuko told her.

Now she did look at him, casting a glance back over her shoulder amid her curling hair. “For what?”

He leaned against the rail. “You don’t have to come to music night if you don’t want to, let alone participate.”

He sounded so deflated that Katara had to laugh. When he shot her a confused look, she turned, putting her back against the rail. “Why don’t you like your uncle’s music night?”

“It’s just…” He let out a breath. “So frivolous. I was so intent on finding the Avatar that any unrelated distractions just made me angry, I guess.”

“So why are you still moaning about it?” She leaned over and nudged his shoulder with her own. “You might end up liking it now that you’ve got real free time.”

Zuko snorted. “I’m not sure anyone in the Imperial Palace actually knows about this mythical ‘free time’.”

“You’re not at the palace now,” Katara pointed out. She craned her neck back almost enough to see the ocean stretching out behind her. “We’re out in the middle of the water with a week or more left before we rejoin civilization. So why not live it up a little?” She lifted her head to look at him again, only to find his gaze already on her. It made her feel warmer.

The smile he offered her was soft at the edges, and while not wide, it reached his eyes in a way that made the heat in her spread.

“Maybe I will.”

Later in the afternoon, one of the crew approached her with a worn case in hand. The helmsman turned out to be the owner of the kokyū Iroh mentioned, and he was more than happy to show her the fingerings along the neck and let her handle it to get a feel for it. It was all at once familiar and strange in her hands—the body was smaller, the neck shorter, and the timbre of the whole instrument was much higher than the fiddle her mother had taught her on, but the basic mechanics were the same. It took her a little to get used to the different spacings of the notes, but she could play it passably. Well enough for an informal music night on a ship in the middle of the ocean, anyway.

It wasn’t until after the sun set that the crew gathered on the foredeck. Katara didn’t notice at first, sitting perched upon a crate and plucking quietly at the kokyū strings. When it became nearly too dark to see, she joined the crew, surprised by how many had come. It seemed only a skeleton crew was left to run the ship.

Feeling a bit awkward carrying an instrument not actually hers—or even of her culture—Katara took an empty spot to settle in. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea, she found herself thinking. She didn’t know how one of these things actually went, and what if her music was too strange for all the Fire Nation sailors, or she didn’t play this instrument as passably as she thought she did…

A swell in the conversation around her interrupted her worrying, and she refocused her attention. Several torches and a few grated canisters had been moved to form a circle of light in the center of the deck, illuminating the deck for everyone to see. A group of three men settled not far from her, each with a different sized drum nestled in their laps. One of them idly began a beat; she presumed this meant it was starting.

Iroh’s laugh came from one side, and she craned her neck to find him. He was talking with a man carrying a gekkin, and they both made their way into the circle of light. Katara hadn’t yet seen Zuko, and she wondered if he was going to sit out after all. Part of her was glad—he wouldn’t have to see if she did fumble her song—but another part was disappointed; she was hoping she’d play well enough that he might enjoy hearing a song from her Tribe.

It seemed all the other crew members were far more relaxed than she felt, and she wondered if they were all part of Zuko and Iroh’s old crew. She soon was drawn out of her thoughts when the gekkin player began. The other drummers joined in, handing out an upbeat tune to start off the night.

The gekkin wasn’t alone—after the first song was over, another joined in with a liuqin to complement and pluck around the more melodic wanderings of the gekkin. By the time they went into their third song together, several of the crew were dancing to the cheers of others. Everyone that passed by Katara had rosy cheeks, and it dawned on her that they were drinking, as well. It reminded her a lot of Aang’s dance party in the cave, only more raucous.

Listening from her seat, Katara plucked along with some of the melodies she knew or could pick up quickly, and only partially out of nerves. She hadn’t played—or sang—in a really long time, and while she was honestly looking forward to it, she also worried about how she’d sound. She did not think of her mother or the nights in their home around the cooking fire she spent learning to play the morin khuur.

She was so determined not to be lost in thought about the past that she wasn’t aware Iroh had come up to her until he put a gentle hand on her shoulder. Startling a little, she looked up at him.

He smiled, cheeks rosy and the wrinkles around his eyes deep. “Are you still willing to play for us?”

One fortifying breath was all she needed to give him a firm nod. She was ready. Sitting a little straighter, she nestled the kokyū between her knees and picked up the bow. The drums quieted, waiting for her to play. She started slow, languidly reminding her fingers of the different fret spacings this instrument had. Despite being an octave or so higher than it should be played, Katara found the winding melody she was searching for. The dancing crewman slowed to watch her, and she kept her eyes on her fingers, coming to a pause with the bow. She couldn’t stop her grin as she leaned into the next part, lifting up the melody into an easy, faster rhythm; the drums picked up after only a few repeats. It was a simple tune, the melody played overtop the drone of the other strings—there was one more than she was used to—but it was driving and she could forget that she wasn’t playing around a Water Tribe communal fire. Almost unbidden, her voice came bubbling up through her throat and she hummed the melody line before mustering the last bit of her courage to sing Tribe words to this crew of Fire Nation sailors.

She was rusty, she knew that, and it was by no means perfect—especially to her own ears. But she sang. In the ancient words of her Tribe, she sang the joy of her people finding land beneath the ice and building a home there, and the Fire Nation sailors thoroughly enjoyed themselves. How much of that enjoyment was augmented by alcohol, she couldn’t say, but if it was, she was grateful for it. It was pleasant, having such an enthusiastic audience.

When she finished, she could feel the last notes reverberating in her bones. Finally looking up from her fingers, Katara was taken aback by the sudden burst of applause and foot stamping that commended her. Her face hurt and she realized that she was grinning; even if it wasn’t the traditional instrument or people listening, it felt good. She felt good.

Bowing deeply to the helmsman, she handed back his kokyū with breathless thanks. He asked her to show him how to play like that, and laughing, she agreed. She searched for Zuko, then excused herself and looked for him. Maybe he would dance with her if she could find him, informally.

“I didn’t know you spoke another language.” Zuko said a little bit away from her, once more leaning on the rail and looking out at the salt-dark of the ocean.

Smiling halfway, Katara shook her head. “I can’t. I only know a few songs in the Tribe tongue. We don’t really speak it anymore.”

No sharp sorrow tinged her voice; it was not something she personally forgot, but that had been lost before she was ever born. A slow erosion from her culture the way that water carved away ice over the course of years.

“What’s left of ours is mostly in old poems,” Zuko said, and she was as surprised by that as she was grateful it wasn’t an apology.

“Really? Do you know any?” She joined him at the rail and absently wondered how many times during this trip they would find each other here.

He was silent for a long while. Then, so quietly she almost didn’t hear him over the sound of the music and laughter and waves, he said, “I don’t know if I can do this.”

She lost no elation from the music; she felt herself soften. He didn’t have to explain himself for her to know what he meant; she felt the same way.

“You can,” she told him earnestly.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Zuko—” The way he looked at her when she said his name made her breath hitch for a moment in her throat. Her cheeks warmed and she angled her head to look out over the waves. “You know, I don’t know if this is even something I should be doing,” she said, subdued but not timid. “It makes me feel like I’m abandoning Aang, like I’m running away from my responsibility to him.”

“You’re not—” Zuko shook his head. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. You’re not wrong, but you’re not entirely right, either. I’m his friend and teacher, and I’ll always feel responsible for him. He’s still a kid in a lot of ways.”

Zuko snorted softly. “We’re all still young. I’m not the youngest Fire Lord ever crowned, but I’m the youngest to rule without a regent before I officially come of age.” He let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand through his hair. “Now that we’ve established we both don’t know how to do something we’re not even sure we should be doing in the first place…”

Katara laughed. “That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t do it. Look,” she said to his incredulous glance, “we’ve overcome a lot of things I would have never thought possible, that I used to question a lot.”

“Like stopping my family?”

She reached out and gave him a playful shove. “Like becoming really good friends. I didn’t know if trusting you again was the right thing to do, or even something that I could do.” Her hand came to rest on his arm when he cast his gaze down at his hands and she knew his memory was in the catacombs. “But we did anyway, and I’m really, really glad that we did.”

He looked up at her then, hope and vulnerability and something a little too raw drawn clearly across his face. “You are?”

Swallowing the sudden thudding of her heart, Katara nodded. “I am. I’m also really nervous about being an Ambassador, but I’m going to do it anyway, too.” She paused for a breathless moment. “And I think it’s something I really want to do.”

Zuko shifted until his hand found hers, and then her fingers were encased within his. He gave her hand a warm squeeze. “I’m really glad you’re going to be there.”

“Me, too.”

He smiled then, and it was soft and wound between her lungs. It made her wonder if she wasn’t running away, but rather headlong into something.

#avatar: the last airbender #atla #avatar the last airbender #zutara #fanfiction #atomicwrites

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valyrfia · 6 years

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hey friend! fello eurovision shitposter here :) first of all I want to say that im so glad to have finally found someone whos as convinced as i am that bulgaria should win this year! I had another question for you: so you post a lot of marvel as well and a lot of stony so i stalked your blog and im confused because you said you started to ship them more after civil war? idk im a huge stucky shipper and steve and bucky just seem to have the better dynamic no offense intended i just want yourview

BULGARIA. THEY’RE AMAZING RIGHT? I’m honestly almost more in love with this song that I was with Beautiful Mess last year (that’s a lie I still cry that my boy Kris didn’t win but I also adore Amar Pelos Dois so I’m not mad). Now with the footage of their AMAZING live performance at the London pre-party, I’m almost fully convinced that they are gonna clinch the top spot this year. I mean, imagine Bones with the camera work and lighting of Eurovision and the atmosphere of the arena. It’s going to be incredible I’m so excited.

Moving on from my trash talk: why I ship stevetony and not stucky? Whoo boy this is gonna take an essay to answer, and it’s going to be difficult a. because I can never remember all the reasons why I do ship stevetony (I always end up missing one lol) and b. because stucky shippers are…enthusiastic, for the lack of a better word. I love them, I respect a lot of them and I’m friends with people who ship it. But fandom is a tricky business. Stevebucky never did it for me as a ship. The explanation is long and complicated but it can be boiled down to a distinct idea: For me, adding a romantic element to Steve and Tony’s dynamic makes their interactions much more interesting and intriguing, while adding a romantic element to Steve and Bucky’s dynamic would almost subtract something quintessential from both of those characters.

Friendships to me are almost more impactful on a person’s life than romantic relationships, god knows where I would be without my friends today. There’s a tendency in the media to push the obligation that the most important person in your life has to be your significant other. I hate that, frankly. Steve and Bucky love each other more than anybody else in the world, and for me, that’s beautiful. I guess I just never did understand the romantic connotations that people attached to what seemed to me, seemed to be a fully functioning, complete and beautiful relationship.

Steve and Tony’s relationship however, you always feel like you’re missing some part of the story when you observe their interactions. From their respective monologues to each other, The Confession and The Oath to their familiar joking with each other right before everything goes to shit at the base in Siberia in CA:CW. You feel like you’re missing some part of their story. I, (it seems along with Jonathan Hickman, RDJ and Chris Evans) like to headcanon that this missing piece is a romantic plotline, but you can interpret it however you want. That’s the beauty of fictional works. It’s not the cold, hard canon that matters, but your interpretation of it. My experience is different from yours and to me that’s beautiful.

An essay is available below the cut, if you’re interested in how I actually stopped shipping stucky and started shipping stevetony (an origin story if you will.)

In my introduction to Marvel, a couple of years ago, I did initially read Steve/Bucky fics more than any other pairing, but incidentally it was a Steve/Bucky fic that made me start reading Steve/Tony ones (oops I guess?) The Man on the Bridge by boopboop on AO3 was the one that got me invested in the Steve/Tony dynamic, it was the fic with the highest kudos on AO3 at the time that I was reading Stucky. It’s a really great fic 11/10 definitely worth the read (I think you need an AO3 account though) but what kept me going wasn’t the ship I was supposed to be reading it for, it was the dynamic between Steve and Tony. For example: you get great scenes like Steve and Tony bickering like an old married couple over coffee at least four times and banter like this out of nowhere:

““I sent flowers?” Tony asks, trying like hell to play it cool. He gives her a desperate look that she ignores by default.

“Tony picked them,” Pepper says, determined as ever to ruin Tony’s reputation.

“He did, did he?” Steve asks knowingly.

Pepper leads them all into the wide social space inside. “He spent a lot of time trying to find your favorites.”

It’s dark enough to hide the fact that Tony’s ears are a little pink, even when someone has as sharp a vision as Steve does. That doesn’t stop him wanting to crawl back into his suit and hide. “Really? Do we have to tell him that?”

“He might think you don’t like him if I don’t,” Pepper says with a knowing smile flashed in Steve’s direction.

“I don’t,” Tony says firmly. “I tolerate him. Barely.”

“Uh huh.” Steve chuckles, his smile growing warm. “Right. I get it.””

and lines like this

“We - Nat and I - figured Rogers would come to you for help once he and Bucky made it out of Florida.”

“You did?” Tony asks, stunned. He can think of a dozen people Steve would have picked over him, even with the resources Tony has at his disposal.

Barton looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Yes,” he says, simple as that.

“And that brings you here why?”

“Because neither of you idiots have a single shred of self preservation between you,” Barton says bluntly. “That’s why you’re good for each other.”

and general power couple stuff

She hardly looks a day older than she had appeared in the recording they saw before leaving for London - but Tony knows that file was dated 1991. Her sharp features are paired with dark eyes and unnaturally pale skin, offset by a razor sharp, almost masculine suit. “Mr Stark,” she inclines her head, “Captain Rogers.”

She had been given no other identification in the videos, other than being addressed by Lukin as ‘Synthia’. Since they don’t want to give away how much information they have, Tony tips his head to one side and asks, “Should I know you? Have we met?”

“We have not, Mr Stark. Captain Rogers and I do have a shared acquaintance, however.”

“Don’t you dare talk about him,” Steve growls, tense at Tony’s side. The fact that he hasn’t rushed forward and unleashed that brewing violence is something of a shock. He’s practically shaking with his rage, every muscle in his body tense and strained.

Tony puts one hand on Steve’s arm, steadying him. “Look lady, I don’t know who you are but I’m tired of games. What do you want with us?”

She tilts her head, “Why not the pleasure of your company? You are Iron Man and Captain America after all. An unstoppable force. The two greatest superheroes of our time.”

even the goddamn villains ship it I was supposed to go into this fic and not come out the other side shipping steve and tony come on

there’s a reason that this is the only non-stevetony fic i’ve read in three years goddamnit

*clears throat*

But yeah that was the fic that got me interested in the possibilities surrounding the Steve/Tony dynamic. Then I started doing some research and came up with the canon content (like their respective love confessions in 616 and the actors fascination with the ship (shoot me I’m weak okay)), and it’s been a wild ride ever since.

If you’re interested in seeing their dynamic in action through a romantic lens, may I suggest Disrepair by Tippet for MCU and Belief Space by magicasen for 616. Neither have huge confessions of love or anything like that, Belief Space does have one kiss towards the end but the focus point is Steve and Tony’s dynamic during the incursion crisis in 616 and Steve’s POV remains largely platonic throughout the fic. Disrepair actually has no romantic connotations in it, as far as I remember, but it analyses the MCU dynamic in such a way that you start to see what I mean when I say that Steve and Tony’s relationship would be ten times more intriguing with a romantic element. Both fics are interesting character studies of both Steve and Tony and I would highly recommend reading them anyway. Also Belief Space is my favourite fic of all time, and does not get enough love goddamnit, so there’s that.

Anyway, I’ll finish your lovely ask by giving you what is frankly my stevetony song for Infinity War and the only song I listen to nowadays. It’s my fave. What else would it be in the month before Eurovision? It’s Bones by EQUINOX.

youtube

#ask #stevetony #otp: he loved you #answered #esc 2018

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