#her name was quynh

[zairaalbereo]

In another life, I dreamed, you were there beside me…

(For my bingo prompt “Dancing”)

#the old guard #tog fanart #tog art #andromache x quynh #andromaquynh #andromache the scythian #quynh the old guard #her name was quynh #Immortal wives #my art #fanart

[ongreenergrasses]

if i see one more post with quỳnh’s name misspelled it will be the last push over the edge for my already perilous sanity

#i am updating the tags bc actually this post is about people who completely butcher her name and mix up the letters into some unknowable #order. i fucked up the diacritic on every single thing i wrote and someone was kind enough to correct me and so i went back and fixed every #single instance. and now i’m adding the tag where her name is spelled correctly to all my posts. but this is about people who just cannot be #bothered to do the SLIGHTEST research into the spelling of her name. #quynh #quỳnh #the old guard

[m1ckeyb3rry]

── THE GLASS PRINCESS // SEVEN

Series Synopsis: You wake up in a strange room with no memories, broken glass at your bedside, and a prince named Zuko as your only chance at figuring out who you really are.

Chapter Synopsis: You get your first taste of freedom from the constricting walls of the Earth Palace.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.2k

Content Warnings: complicated relationships (strangers to friends to lovers to enemies to strangers to lovers to enemies to lovers), amnesia, alternate universe, lots of secrets and lying and mystery

A/N: hello everyone and welcome to part two of the glass princess!! in the next few chapters we will be learning more about princess y/n and how she met zuko/the fall of ba sing se :) thank you all for reading!! and yes i did make up an entire spirit for the #plot 😭🙏🏻 i promise she will have significance to the story later on though!!

Although it was uncharitable, you could not help yourself from thinking that the only reason Long Feng was allowing your brother to keep that ridiculous creature around was because of its apparent resemblance to Quynh. In a way, it could be considered to have been made in her image, and Kuei knew that as well as you did, which was why he was currently leaping about joyfully, shaking you by the shoulders as if he were a child instead of a man.

“I’ve found him!” Kuei shrieked at you for the thousandth time. “I’ve found Quynh’s son! She hasn’t abandoned us after all, Y/N! She sent her son to me!”

“That ghastly, muddy creature is no child of Quynh’s,” you said, wrinkling your nose at the tufts of fur all over the fine carpet. “And Quynh never abandoned us in the first place. I do not know why you think that that is the case.”

“No one has seen her in nearly a century, and it’s been even longer since anyone found Quynh’s Door. If ever she was real, she left the palace long ago,” Kuei said. “Maybe she was never a spirit in the first place — just one of Bosco’s ancestors.”

“That is blasphemy!” you rebuked him. “Quynh is no Agni — she is a concrete spirit, not an abstract deity. If anything, she is far more similar to Tui and La, from the Northern Water Tribe.”

“Who?” Kuei said.

“The ocean and moon spirits,” you said with a heavy sigh, once again finding yourself unimpressed by Kuei and his ignorance. “They live in the Northern Water Tribe and allow Waterbenders to bend.”

“Quynh doesn’t allow anyone to bend. She’s a different legend entirely. You should know that,” he said. You gritted your teeth.

“I wish you would pick up a book for once! It was an analogy, you fool,” you said.

“It matters not,” Kuei said after a second. “I don’t know why you’re so set on this fairytale, but the sooner you give up on it, the sooner you can find the wonder in the real world.”

“By the real world, do you mean my chambers?” you said. “Or yours? Because that is the extent of the world I know.”

“I mean the bear sitting before you at this very moment!” he said, ignoring your pointed response and gesturing towards his new pet with a flourish. “You are more taken with a made up story than an actual natural phenomenon. That’s a problem, dear sister.”

Bosco the bear grumbled at you in agreement, blinking his large, wet eyes at you. And perhaps you might’ve been impressed by his sturdy build and elegant snout, but all you could see when you gazed upon him was a cheap copy, a faded replica that could never hope to capture even half of the original’s glory.

“Well, dear brother, it can’t be helped. Your pet will never be Quynh,” you said.

“Always bringing down the mood, aren’t you?” he said, rolling his eyes at you. “I wasn’t saying he was Quynh, I was saying he resembled her greatly. Anyways, you know stories always inflate their characters; for all we know, Quynh really did once look like this.”

You wanted to argue with him, but of course it would not be productive. Like the element he ruled, your brother was set in his ways — the only qualities he had in equal measure to stubbornness were cowardice and naïveté, both of which he was perhaps better known for. It was true, though, that when he gained a sense of conviction for something, he’d stand by it with a fervor that he rarely displayed otherwise. It was one of the few attributes you could genuinely admire him for, even if it was inconvenient at times.

“As you say,” you said. “I see no purpose in further discussions on the matter. You do not believe in Quynh, and I do. Neither of us can change the other’s mind, so we ought to just move on.”

“Compliment Bosco first,” Kuei said. “On my authority as the Earth King, I demand it.”

“You demand a lot of things on that tenuous authority,” you muttered. Then, you smiled at the piteous looking bear. “You truly deserve to be my brother’s companion. I am certain you are possessed with the same commanding spirit that he is so fortunate to claim.”

Kuei beamed at you. “Thank you. You can return to your room.”

You snickered at him. “It is appreciated.”

Only when you were halfway down the hallway did he shout in protest, realizing your thinly veiled insult. You sped up your pace, running towards your room before he could come and question you or make another demand — you did not put it past him to insist that you compliment his bear properly.

It was one of those ways you had to get back at him. You were ever searching for more, trying your best to needle the brother who was, whether directly or indirectly, the cause of your imprisonment.

Your chambers. His chambers. The hallway in between. These were the confines of your world, according to Kuei and Long Feng, who was his most trusted advisor. It would be dangerous, after all, for a girl with no bending and royal blood flowing through her veins to be wandering the streets without protection, even in a city as safe as Ba Sing Se. So although you had begged to at least see the kingdom which was your own, you had been promptly refused every time, the locks changed periodically and the guards rotated hourly to ensure they stayed alert to your movements.

Escape was impossible, but even in such a life, you could find solace: in your dressing room, a door would sometimes appear, a door which led to the heart of the palace — not the throne room, but the true heart upon which the entire structure was constructed. Quynh’s Den, the entrance to which was constantly shifting between the spirit world and the mortal one, was the only place you had for yourself, though of course you shared it with its other inhabitant: the great mother bear spirit Quynh.

It was there today. Ensuring that the entrance to your own chambers was sufficiently blocked, you did not even hesitate to pull the door open, ducking into the stone passageway behind it eagerly. The only light came from the glowing crystals overhead, but you knew the way so well that you could’ve tread it even with your eyes closed, so the dimness did not trouble you any.

It did not make sense for such a long, winding hall made entirely of stone to be behind your dressing room, but that was because the hallway was not truly there. The door was only a gateway to the realm in which Quynh’s Den resided, but that realm was somewhere else, in some intangible other dimension that did not quite obey the same rules as yours.

Time, too, felt strange in this place. You did not know for how long you walked; you never did. You could only keep going until the narrow passage opened into a large cavern, the walls of which were studded with the same glowing green crystals that the entire hall had been encrusted with. The majority of the space was taken up by a massive black form curled up on a bed of ghostly white moss, her head resting on paws that were several times your own size. You knew from past experience that if you were to stand right beside her when she was in such a position, you would barely even be able to peek over her nose.

“Quynh,” you said. Twin jewels blinked open — her enormous eyes were the same luminous shade as the crystals surrounding her, and they, too, shone with a mysterious, intrinsic power.

“Y/N,” she said, the cavern rumbling with the depth of her voice. “I was wondering when you would come again.”

“I come whenever you allow me to,” you said, moving so that you could sit in front of her. She huffed, tilting her head so that you could clamber onto her paw and lean against the plush fur of her cheek, which would be several times warmer than the cold stone floor.

“It’s not under my control,” she said. “You know my limitations.”

“Yes, of course I do,” you said. “That’s how it’s always been. I was just reminding you, so that you are not angry.”

“I do not blame you,” she said. “For not visiting. I know that you cannot unless the circumstances align. Rather, it is that I am bereaved when you are gone. It has been many years since I could say this with certainty, but the truth is that I miss your company.”

“And I, yours,” you said. “Though you should not feel too complimented by that. It is you or Kuei, and I am, as ever, irritated by him at the moment.”

“You should not quarrel with him,” Quynh chided you. “He is the only family you have. It does you no good to fight with him so frequently. You will be sad if something happens and those are the only memories you have of him.”

“I wish that you were not inclined to defend him!” you said.

“Whether you like it or not, he is of the same line as you. I love him as well, for that fact. I am bound to,” she said. You pouted.

“You ought to love me more. He doesn’t even think you are real,” you said. “I’m the only one who’s believed in you in decades.”

“A mother cannot declare favorites,” Quynh said diplomatically. “And so, neither can I. You ought to know this by now.”

“He’s found a bear,” you muttered obstinately. “It’s a disgusting creature. Rolls in mud whenever given the opportunity and barely knows to shut its jowls when it’s eating.”

“A bear?” Quynh said, one of her ears flicking with interest. “I did not know of any which existed.”

“I suppose there is this one,” you said. “He is a true bear; I have ascertained as much. He does resemble you, though it is in the way that quartz resembles diamond.”

Bear was not quite enough to encapsulate what Quynh was. Certainly, her form was as such, but she was in a sense phantasmic, and so ascribing a physical species to her was disingenuous. That was why you found it so grating that Kuei was frolicking about and proclaiming that he had found her equal — she had no equal. Quynh stood alone.

“It is unfair,” she said, “for you to hold that against him. If you were possessed with an uneducated eye, you, too, would mistake the quartz for the diamond. He cannot be blamed.”

“I would know,” you said. “Even if I were blind, I would know. The diamond possesses something which the quartz never can.”

“And what might that be?” Quynh said.

“I don’t know,” you said. “But there is some such quality.”

“Perhaps,” she said. “Or perhaps you are upset about something entirely different and are taking out your frustration on an animal that cannot help its ancestry and a brother who is known to be a fool.”

“On that much, we can agree,” you said with a self-satisfied smile. “Kuei is a fool.”

“Y/N,” Quynh warned you. You hung your head in defeat.

“I asked Long Feng if I could leave again,” you said. “I thought he was in a generous mood, considering he raised no complaint about Bosco being moved to the royal chambers, but he refused! I told him I would not stray from my guards’ side, that I only wished to go for a matter of minutes, but still he said no.”

“Did he give his reasons?” Quynh said.

“The same as ever,” you said. “Until Kuei marries and has children, I am next in line for the throne. As the heir, I must be kept with the utmost of caution, and the only place I can be safe for certain is the palace.”

“He’s not entirely wrong,” she said. “The world is dangerous. More than you might think.”

“I don’t think anything,” you said, though you immediately felt poorly for snapping at her. “I cannot even form an opinion on the city I might one day rule. What sort of a princess does not even know her subjects? To say nothing of my brother the king, who himself has not left the palace walls in years and is entirely comfortable with that! I cannot understand it. I cannot understand why he has no desire to know his people, the very people who love him so dearly as to accept him as their ruler.”

“Not everyone is like you,” Quynh said, nudging you as gently as she could. “And your brother’s past shaped who he is now. You cannot blame him for desiring safety when he was there when it all happened.”

She spoke of your father. You had never met the man, for he had died days before you had been born, so you felt no grief at the reminder, but you knew it was not the same for Kuei. After all, your father’s death was the only reason your brother had taken the throne in the first place; a throne which, at his young age, he had been ill-suited for.

Due to Kuei’s fondness for animals, which he had had since he was very young, your father had taken him to the zoo for his birthday. There, a wayward assassin of the Earthbending variety had sent spikes of stone into your father’s heart, killing him before the guards could even react. It was all they could do to save Kuei and run — the assassin, as far as you knew, still walked free today, for they had been too concerned with your brother’s protection to chase after the killer.

The zoo was shut down. The child Kuei was crowned king, though your mother was deemed his regent. Days later, she fell gravely ill. Giving birth to you was the last thing she did — she never left the childbearing bed, using the final remains of her strength to push you out and hold you tightly against her chest until she stopped breathing entirely.

One child there for your father’s last moments. The other, for your mother’s. Quynh was not exaggerating in saying that Kuei was the only family you had left, but your lives had been so dissimilar as to be entire opposites. He had his ministers and advisors to replace the gap your father had left in his life. You had Quynh to serve as your mother, in whatever way she could.

“The guards will be vigilant,” you said. “And anyways, even if I am Kuei’s heir, I doubt that anyone would have cause to assassinate me. I am not important enough to the kingdom. If I were killed, Kuei would simply marry earlier, and have more children, so it would be a net loss for any assailants.”

“You know that I am not opposed to it,” Quynh said. “It is your brother and his advisors who forbid you; I am only reminding you to respect their wishes, for they, in some manner, have your best interests at heart.”

“But I am dying of it,” you said. “Every day I languish in the palace, I can feel my spirit being crushed by the ever-encroaching walls. My only respite is visiting you, Quynh, but even that is not enough. I am still captive.”

Quynh sighed. It was a great sound, whistling and low, teeming with disappointment and worry and affection, all in equal measure. You rubbed your hand against her fur, waiting for her response, though you doubted it would be any different than every other time you had asked.

“You want me to open a door to the kingdom,” she said.

“Yes,” you said. “If I go alone, in the garb of a commoner, then I should escape notice entirely.”

“Alright,” she said. You opened your mouth to argue before closing it.

“Alright?” you repeated. “You’re saying yes? What about the usual rebuttals? It’s too much of a risk, Y/N, you won’t even be able to find Quynh’s Door.”

“It’s true,” she said. “You won’t have that guarantee, but of course, I can manually open doors back to the palace. The danger in this is that you will have to wait until I can open a door to allow your return, even if you want it earlier. As you well know, time is different here. I could open a door for you mere seconds after you’ve left, but that still might mean you must spend hours in the city.”

“I do not mind,” you said. “I will make good use of that time. But what has changed your mind? Why have you never offered before?”

“Something has come to the city,” she said. “I can feel it. There is a presence, or perhaps multiple presences, that can change the course of Ba Sing Se’s destiny — and, more importantly, of your family’s destiny. I am not sure, but I feel as if it is imperative that you leave, or else I will be depriving you of that destiny. And that unto itself is a fate, but not the one which you are meant to find.”

“Who are they?” you said. “These presences. How will I know that I’ve met them?”

“You won’t,” she said. “There is no way for any of us to know. Even they, themselves, may not yet be aware of it. It is just like that. You needn’t endeavor to find them; if you are meant to, you will.”

“I see,” you said, and then you leapt off of her paw, beaming up at her. “Then the only thing I will

“I hope you do,” Quynh said. “Furthermore, I hope you do not regret your decision.”

“I won’t,” you said firmly. “Thank you, Quynh.”

“It is my duty,” she said. “I am obligated to. To be sure, it is difficult, for there is always some difficulty when a mother must let her child go, but it is necessary. It is a story older than even I.”

“And this story is just as old,” you said. “That even when you let me go, I will return to you. Of my own volition, I shall return.”

“So you shall,” she said. “Go, then, Y/N. And return with as much haste as you leave, so that I may not miss you for too long.”

A new hallway formed in the walls of the cave, and without a backward glance, you walked towards it. Striding down the passage, you kept your eyes forward, knowing that if you turned around, you would see the stone closing behind you. You could not go back; it was not the nature of Quynh’s power. There was only one way to go, now that the decision had been made: forward.

All of the passages made by Quynh were the same length — barring the one behind the famed Quynh’s Door, naturally — so it was a trick of your mind that made the trek to Ba Sing Se seem longer than when you returned to your room from her den. Still, eventually, you came to another door, and your entire body shuddered in anticipation as you placed your hand on the knob, because this was the moment that you waited your entire life for.

Unable to delay for a second more, you swung the door open, taking your first step into the city of Ba Sing Se, your silk-slippered foot toeing delicately onto the cobblestones. Shutting the door behind you, you glanced over your shoulder to ascertain that it had disappeared. As you had expected, the wall was smooth and bare, giving no indication that there had ever been an exit in the first place.

There were people everywhere. You had never witnessed such a large crowd before; people milled about by the fading light of the setting sun, jostling one another as they rushed to and fro. At the fringes of the throng, two men with long torches went about lighting the street lamps, though they took their own time doing so, talking and laughing with whichever passersby that they recognized.

Another person might find the chaos to be ugly, hideous in its disorder, but you found a kind of mystical appeal to the hustle of the street. These were people who were living their lives as they were meant to, with no awareness of the simple freedoms and small joys they possessed. They gave no care to the idea that their daily lives were so remarkable to you, that their going-ons were the most wonderful thing you had ever seen.

You were too afraid to step into the sea of people, so you stayed along the sides of the road, admiring them, watching them, wanting more than anything to be one of them. But of course you were not. You would never be.

The door had spit you out near a small tea shop. It was not run down, exactly, but it was lived in, homey, the wood polished and the chairs worn. You opened the door to the establishment, but found it to be devoid of any patrons. There was only an old man behind the counter, sorting the change with toughened hands, though he looked up when he heard the bell chime announce your entrance.

“Hello, miss,” he said. “I’m afraid we are about to close for the night.”

“Oh, it’s not a problem,” you said. “I wasn’t wanting tea, anyways. I was just admiring your shop.”

“Why, thank you,” he said, grinning at you. “Though it’s not my shop, so I can’t claim to have any hand in the decor.”

“It smells so lovely,” you said. “It reminds me of a very beautiful thing, though I can’t name which.”

“Flowers?” he guessed. “Maybe a garden full of jasmine blossoms, their petals facing the moon, with a few drops of rain scattered about on their surfaces?”

“Actually, yes,” you said, amazed at his accuracy. “How did you know? That was exactly correct.”

“It’s the new blend of jasmine tea we’re brewing for tomorrow. My nephew picks the flowers himself, so that we can be sure of the condition of the jasmine before we make the tea. It’s the best way to allow the flavors to come through!” the man said.

“Wow,” you said. “I never knew there was so much thought put behind tea. I just drink it.”

“Most people don’t care enough,” the man said with a nod. “That’s what sets our tea apart. It’s only when you pay attention to the most minute details that you can ensure your final product is as close to perfection as can be found in a teacup. It’s a grave sin to think that tea begins and ends with the boiling of water; in truth, it starts when you plant seeds in the soil.”

“That makes a lot of sense,” you said. “Though I hadn’t it until now. Thank you for telling me. I shall pay more attention the next time I have tea; perhaps then I, too, will be able to understand its origins from a mere sip.”

“It takes practice,” the man said. “But no harm ever befell the man who paid attention. Or woman, in this case.”

“Of course,” you said. “But I should leave you to close. I apologize for bothering you in the first place.”

“Don’t apologize,” the man said, waving you off. “It’s always a delight to have a conversation with a willing partner.”

“The delight was mine,” you said.

“Do come again!” the man said. “Perhaps earlier in the day, though. I can serve you tea — or, better, I can make my nephew do it. I think he’s about your age, and he is wanting for friends. But don’t tell him I said that! He’s not aware of it quite yet.”

Your eyes widened at the thought. You had never met someone your own age, nor had you ever had a friend — Quynh and Kuei were your family, for better or for worse, and the servants never dared speak to you beyond the barest of formalities. So, in a way, you were alsowanting for a friend, but you could not tell the man this. Instead, you smiled slightly at him, bowing your head in gratitude.

“I should like that,” you said. “If ever I am nearby again, I will surely come.”

As the night stretched on, the streets began to empty — or was it that you were wandering further and further away from the main crossroads? Regardless, there was certainly a shift in the air, and it was only when you entered a deserted neighborhood that you realized there had been footsteps following you for quite some time now.

Turning around, you saw no one. The streets were devoid of life. The footsteps had stopped, but you could not help the nagging feeling that something was wrong.

Where was the door? It had been long enough — you should’ve been able to find it by now. You should’ve been able to go home by now. But there was no door. You were alone, and you suddenly understood why you had been forbidden from leaving the palace.

“Who goes there?” you said. “I — I am armed, so show yourself, but proceed with caution!”

“Armed?” a voice said. “Don’t fool yourself, your royal highness. Everyone knows you aren’t armed.”

“Your royal — how do you know who I am?” you called out. “Coward! You dare to hide in the shadows and hurl such insults at me?”

Your response was an enormous boulder shooting towards you. You squealed and dropped to the ground, covering your head with your hands as the boulder smashed into the wall behind you, bits of rubble raining down. There was a stinging pain on your knee, and you frowned as you realized that you had scraped it when you had initially dodged.

“What are you doing?” you said. “You will kill me! Stop it! You craven hound, I command you to stop what you are doing and face me like a man! If you cease your actions and explain yourself at once, I shan’t have you put to death. I will even pardon you of your every crime!”

Again, no response, and your heart dropped as you realized that might be his goal. What other reason would the man, who apparently knew your identity, have for attacking you? It was unfathomable, but you were reminded that it had not been so long since your father had been assassinated. Whatever sentiments had driven that attack…what if you had been wrong? What if you were, for whatever reason, the target for the next assassination?

It reminded you of a story, one you had read on the tenth anniversary of your father’s death. You thought it might comfort you, or more specifically your brother, to read the tale of another king who had been assassinated but whose reign had continued on regardless; in truth, though, only one quote had stuck with you, and this quote was neither comforting nor kind.

Sometimes, these things just happen, it had said. Kings are murdered. There isn’t always an explanation. Sometimes, the only reason is the action itself. Sometimes, people just kill for the spectacle of killing.

Maybe that was the case. Maybe you were just going to be killed for the spectacle. The show. The king’s beloved sister, murdered in his own city, the safest city in the entire world.

Right when the second boulder was about to hit you, there was a metallic sound, and then something sliced through the boulder, cutting it in half before it could reach you. When you looked up, there was a man in black standing in front of you, twin blades held in each hand, his posture confident but wary.

“Who are you?” you said. The man did not respond, scanning the area. He must’ve determined it to be safe, as abruptly, he relaxed his stance, sheathing the swords and then shifting to face you.

You could not stop yourself from yelping. Instead of a face, there was a blue mask regarding you, frozen in a grotesque grin, though when you got over your initial surprise, you realized you recognized the guise.

“The Blue Spirit?” you said. He nodded. “I’ve read the play, but I didn’t realize that you were — that you were a real being!”

The Blue Spirit was motionless in the wake of your words. Or, no, that was not correct. It was not that he was motionless, but that every part of his body was constantly shifting and changing, on high alert, so that the sum total was a man that was both ever at rest yet ever moving.

You pulled yourself to your feet, careful not to hurt yourself on the scattered stones surrounding you both, and just then, right behind you, a door appeared. You laughed ruefully at the ironic timing.

“What were you doing here, anyways?” you said. He mimed opening his hand; you did so, your palm facing the sky, though you had no idea what he planned to do with it. But he had saved you, so you thought that there was no harm in trusting him for a moment longer.

He did not do anything as dramatic as grabbing it or carving his name into it. He just dropped something into it, something soft and light and white.

Jasmine flowers. The delicate cups of the blooms were opened, seeking out the moon, and twinkling in the starlight against the silky fibers of the petals were a few drops of water — holdovers, you assumed, from the day’s rainfall.

You closed your fingers over the flowers, careful not to crush them in your fist. You did not know what they meant — an offering? A price? Something else entirely? Regardless, you knew that they were important, and you vowed to reread the story of the Blue Spirit once you returned home, so that you could understand their significance.

“Thank you,” you said. “For the flowers, and also for rescuing me. If we should ever meet again, then I will thank you in a better way, but for now, I have to go. The longer I linger here, the more danger the two of us are put in.”

Opening the door, you took a step in, but before you closed it, you looked over your shoulder, back at where the Blue Spirit had stood. That strange person…you owed him your life. The least you could do was look back at him, afford him a final glance before you sealed yourself away entirely.

When you turned, though, he was already gone. The only proof that he had ever been there in the first place was the flowers in your hand, the pluming dust in the air, and the heart which steadily beat in your chest — that beat which meant you were still alive, at least for now.

You did not stand there and mourn his absence. Allowing the door to swing shut and the passageway to close behind you, you began to walk home.

taglist (comment/send an ask/dm to be added): @rinisfruity14 @c4ttheart

#zuko x reader #zuko x y/n #zuko x you #zuko #avatar the last airbender #atla #reader insert #canon au #the glass princess #m1ckeyb3rry writes

[sheafrotherdon]

Nicky wakes up early. It’s still dark as he climbs out of bed and picks up yesterday’s discarded t-shirt and jeans from the floor, pulls them on, and pads out into the shadowed hallway. Everyone is sleeping and will stay that way for a while, attuned as they are to the specific silence of the safe house. The scent of coffee will tell them when it’s time to wake.

The kitchen floor is cool beneath Nicky’s bare feet as he pulls flour and sugar from the cupboard, and finds his favored mixing bowl. He selects two oranges from the platter on the kitchen table. They’re a pleasant weight in his hands as he rinses them at the sink, and he smiles as he gently peels long strips of rind from each fruit, orange oil dampening his fingers.  He chops the rind into tiny pieces with a kitchen knife he keeps predictably sharp, and lets his mind wander.

They all came into this long life with midwinter rituals, rituals that pushed aside the darkness and kindled light. Andy’s rituals were, by the time Nicolo met her, casual habits and scraps of poetry from more places than she could name. Quynh would find the means to make lamps from whale oil and tallow, beeswax in later years, but always she would meet winter with the industry of her hands. Yusuf leaned toward fire, kindling and branches, logs or turf, more than once the pungent blaze of cow shit. Always he would smile; always he would sing. Always Nicky fell a little more in love.  And then came Nile, with traditions that ran from Santa to mass, to knitted stockings for each of them when she had the means, and Catholic rituals that Nicky recognized as echoes of his own. Last Christmas she had given Joe coal, and he had thrown back his head and roared with laughter, and called her fond and obscene names.

But it was solstice where Nicky felt most grounded, where the patient observation of darkness in its fullest expression brought quiet joy. Thus the oranges, the creaming of butter and sugar, the addition of flour that he never quite manages to avoid spilling on his shirt. Dropping the orange rind into his bowl, he turns his attention to chopping sweetened cranberries into small, tart bites, and mixing everything into a dough.

By the time the dough is chilled and the cookies cut into small, precise rounds, the oven is ready, and the coffee has been set to brew. Andy shuffles into the kitchen as the first of the solstice sweets are cooling on a rack, and Nicky smacks her hand away from the still-too-hot cookies, a ritual in and of itself.  She accepts coffee in lieu of food, pulls her knees up to her body, heels resting on the seat of the chair, and hunches inside her oversized sweater that has seen better days but is worn and well loved.  Nile follows, and after a time, Joe, and only then does Nicky slip the cookies onto a plate and set them on the table.

The sky outside turns from black to morning grey, and the people Nicky loves eat the best expression of sunlight he knows.  He wipes his hands on a towel and fills a mug with coffee, pulls out a chair and as Joe rests a hand on his knee, covers that hand with his own.

#solstice #a day early #but tomorrow is a travel day #joe x nicky #nicolo di genova #yusuf al kaysani #andromache the scythian #nile freeman #midwinter

[acupofqueercoffee]

“With her sweetened breath and her tongue so mean”

Andromache the Scythian x Witch Reader

gif ▸ queen-shuri ( i don’t know how to link a gif ㅠㅠ )

request ( found here ) by @nightly-polaris

i left her powers to your imagination though i did play around with the idea of them being soulmates. wow it did take me a while. this was harder to write than i thought. frankly, i’m not very pleased with it. i went too long without writing and i feel like i’m getting rusty. i just hope that i managed to do your idea justice 🥹

(=^･ω･^=) leonora the cat made a cameo appearance

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Myriads and myriads of millennia. That was how long the Scythian had been walking the earth. There was not a corner of this world where her soles had not touched. Many a time had the sky borne witness to her downfalls, and thereupon, her immediate beginnings. Throughout her journey as an immortal, she had seen it all, privation, plenty and everything in between. The wonders and weirdness of the world could no longer provoke in her a sensation that would otherwise have six thousand years ago.

Regardless of her very old age that could have her certified as a living fossil, and the boundless knowledge that she had collected throughout her very long life making her a walking encyclopaedia, there existed many mysteries that even Andromache had yet to see. Amongst them, magick was a concept that still remained foreign to her; therefore, a threat. Unfamiliar though it was, it was not entirely unheard of. After all, she herself had been caught in the crossfire while trying to free the accused from the witch trials. In the end, they were just that: accused. There ended the extent of her experience regarding witchery or anything supernatural for that matter.

The only occult phenomenon that she knew to be bona fide was their immortality. The rest was sham. That was, until her team notified her of the all too familiar dream. Until a family of four bar Quynh and Booker, became a family of four, plus a hazardous, peculiar individual.

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The arcane parts of you that had remained concealed for the better part of your life had only recently come to light when you unfortunately faced your demise.

The cause of your death had been as good as silly, slipping on a wet tile and cracking your head open on the edge of your bathtub, but it had shed light on an important piece of information nonetheless.

One second, you were dead, and the next, you woke up in a pool of your own blood. To you, who had been revealed to the bombshell of an information about a week ago, that you were a witchling, you were just in assuming that it was part of your newfound identity.

However, on the following day, with the arrival of a mysterious woman on your doorstep, your life was turned upside down. Going with her had not been of your own free will, having been meticulously knocked unconscious and finding yourself on an unfamiliar bed upon awakening.

The root of your sudden perturbation stemmed from the absence of Leo, a majestic Somali cat with gorgeous red mane that resembled a smaller version of a fox. She had been your greatest companion long before you had been made aware that she was your familiar. It appeared that the bond between a witchling and her familiar became only stronger once a witch unlocked her true potential. Only when a fluffy ball of scarlet hopped onto your bed could you calm.

In addition to, quite frankly, the charismatic complexity of a woman that you eventually learned named Andromache, you met three other people; Nile, who looked the closest in age to you, Nicky who had the kindest face out of the four, and Joe who appeared the most laid-back. All five of whom, four who you had just met, and the remaining one who, as explained by them, was away to carry out his punishment, were not entirely unfamiliar to you. You had seen them in the dream that had sought you right after your very first’s death.

Regardless of your non-involvement in being here, the decision to remain here was done of your own free will, reached by not only your instinctual feelings but also the support of Leo. Growing up alone, you had no one to miss you, and no one to be missed by you. It seemed sound to stick with those as peculiar as you were, than to stick out like a sore thumb amongst the ordinaries, or so you had believed.

Oh, how terrible of a mistake you had made by assuming that being immortal would make you the same as them, or them the same as you.

Although the others welcomed you warmly, making you feel at home as best as they could, your confession about your true being was not received kindly by Andy as the others called her. In fact, even the nickname was a privilege that was beyond your reach.

“That’s Andromache to you.” so she had corrected, lips the very picture of a straight line, when you had made a slip of your tongue.

Being forced out of slumber one night by a curious dream, similar in kind to the one you had on your death’s day, led you to seek the group with a question in mind. No sooner had you set foot in the room than the Scythian made herself scarce without so much as acknowledging you.

“Andy, albeit not being the most open person, can be ridiculously protective of her team. You are now one of us which means that she cares.”

“Humans harbour fear of the unknown. Even Andy cannot be entirely immune to it. Give her time.”

“She’ll come around. Take me for example. I had been killed once, beaten to a pulp, and had my bones broken by that woman, all of which transpired within the same day.”

Despite the reassurances from Joe, Nicky, and Nile, you would rather she kill you than disregard your existence altogether. Her aloofness stung you all the more for you felt oddly, albeit rather profoundly, connected to her.

You wanted to believe that it was time she needed, and time, you gave her, but when you were being actively avoided by her like you were the very plague, it only made sense that your tolerance would eventually run thin.

Unlike the Scythian along with Joe and Nicky who had been protecting humanity for centuries, and Nile who used to be a marine, you lacked experiences when it came to being a warrior. Additionally, being a witchling meant that you were a complete novice in magick. During one of your first missions, due to an error on your part, you had hindered your team by causing their unnecessary deaths.

You were not oblivious to the fact that the Scythian’s immortality had reached its end. In fact, it was by dumping all your attention onto the woman that you had not a dot to contribute to your part of the task. Although the mistake was borne of your all consuming concern for the Scythian’s safety, appreciation was the farthest thing from which you ended up receiving.

“Andromache, I keep having this dream of a drowning woman. Is she someone like us?”

When you had brought the question to her with a flimsy hope of instigating communication, sapphire green eyes had coldly held your soft-eyed gaze.

“There is no us.”

Such had been her words, thickly laced with venom that it rendered you absolutely crestfallen.

Thereafter, you were left alone in the room along with your question neglected. The answer to which was being delivered to you presently in what you could only describe as the most unkind fashion.

“You wanna know who that woman in your recurring dream is? That’s Quynh and if I could, without question, I would trade you for her. You should be the one locked up, not her. Quynh isn’t a witch. You are!”

“I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-“

“Every day, I worry over whose immortality will be stripped away next now that you’re in existence. What use are your abilities when you can’t even make good use of them? A hazard to the team. That is what you are! Nothing but a liability.”

Razor-sharp and poison-bitter, her frankness certainly did a splendid job of maiming you.

Despite not only being shunned, but also having your sorry little heart wounded by the very kingpin of the team, withering was the last thing that befell you. If it did, you were doing a good job of putting up a front, fragility hidden behind a tough facade.

You trained more. You smiled more. Always so cheery, always so carefree until one day, a relatively trying mission brought about the shattering of the mask that you had painstakingly put in place.

“Have I done something wrong? Why does she loathe me so?”

Having been bursting at the seams with bottled up emotions, it was no wonder that your heart reached its breaking point.

“I can’t. I can bear it no more.”

An endless leakage of tears marred your features as you came apart at the seams, revealing to the team the depth of the wound the Scythian’s coldness had burned into your psyche.

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You were different as they were but at the same time, you were different from them altogether. The Scythian had her suspicions to begin with when, after swiftly sketching the picture of the one who had visited their dream, Joe had handed her the book in which a familiar face stared eerily back at her.

Losing her immortality meant that she was no longer privy to these interconnected dreams. However, there was no mistaking the face that had been plaguing her dreams for years. Andromache did not know what it suggested for them, and it was disconcerting to say the least. Then, once the fact was made known that you harboured powers beyond immortality alone, with her suspicions solidified, you were deemed a threat.

As was with Nile, there, too, was a strong possibility of you coming to be at the cost of one of the veterans’ immortality. The staggering awareness that it could very well be Quynh was a bitter pill to swallow. It did not make it any more palatable that Quynh was unfairly accused of being a witch, and locked up in the bottom of the ocean for centuries upon centuries only for a real witch to take her place.

If her rationality had not been muddled by stress, and the deeply rooted guilt and resentment of having to lose Quynh, she would see that her judgement about you had been done with extreme unfairness. Cruelly subjective instead of reasonably objective.

In the end, Joe and Nicky had to play the role of an eye-opener.

“What’s wrong with you, Andy? You’re being unreasonably cruel to the kid.”

“She proved hazardous to the team.”

“She is a part of the team!”

“She’s not entirely like us.”

“That’s absurd!”

“I lost my immortality upon Nile’s arrival. Quynh is next in line. What if she-” Brushing her palms over her face, a sigh was heaved into the cocoon of her hands. “The innocent has to suffer while the guilty takes her place? Don’t you think it’s unfair?”

Joe levelled her with a glare that screamed incredulity while both of them sounded truly disappointed.

“My god, Andy, are you hearing yourself?

“Where is the Andy I know who’s endlessly caring to her people?”

“Your anger is dreadfully misplaced. It is those pea-brained bastards that should be rightfully crucified, not an innocent kid.”

Even amidst being chastised, Andromache could not help but be awed by the couple as they effortlessly supported each other.

“You’ve been nothing but, to be brutally honest, a heartless bitch towards her, and yet, she’s always been heedful of your safety. Despite her lack of experience, the kid’s been tirelessly pushing herself. Can you not really see? Or, did you blatantly choose not to?”

“The way you treat her is cruelly unfair. You know it to be true. You can’t tell me otherwise. Whether she is a witch, or- or say, a vampire, or whatever the hell she is, she’s irrevocably one of us.”

“Poor kid’s devastated by your actions. You would do well to own up to your mistakes and ask her for forgiveness.”

Slowly but surely, the Scythian was beginning to see the errors of her actions, but it was only after having been knocked some sense into her by her very family could she truly grasp the extent of her callousness.

And thus, she came seeking you, a mission that was accomplished rather swiftly.

The sight that she had walked in on forced her to a stop. Keeping herself hidden behind a wall, she was caught off guard by a pang of…perplexity, she decided to name for now, that started pounding against her ribcage.

You were locked snugly in Nile’s arms, face buried in her chest as you dissolved into tears. Seeing you so broken, and knowing that she was undeniably the culprit behind your suffering did something inexplicable to her, but when the pang only intensified, her mind was transported back to a period of time many many moons ago. She had found the amour who she was particularly fond of mingling with someone else, and needless to say, it had not sat well with her.

The green-eyed monster had taken possession of the Scythian then.

Now, the same monster was knocking on her door, bringing with it an unpalatable sensation.

Confused and overcame with labyrinths of emotions, Andromache who had never, in her immortal life, willingly backed down from a challenge experienced her first surrender. Incapable though she was to approach you, the Scythian’s night was spent fruitfully as she dissected her puzzling reaction.

By morning, the puzzle was solved, and her feelings, understood. The pang of perplexity, as it so happened, turned out to be a pang of jealousy, followed closely by guilt and something else entirely that she was not yet ready to admit out loud.

The question however was, had she been too late in realising her mistakes, and thereupon, her feelings?

She had every intention of talking things out with you, but the sudden emergence of a mission compelled her to put it on hold.

Joe and Nicky took care of driving, and as much as she disliked seeing you stick to Nile the entirety of the ride, she knew that she had no rights interfering. For that, she had but herself to blame.

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Raining down around Andromache in a violent downpour were bullets. None of them were offered a chance to reach her, for as she fought with her foes, her team had taken it upon themselves to guard her. They were playing defence while she did the offence. Although at first, their strategy was working remarkably well, as the troops multiplied on the opposing side, their stance faltered.

Being a burden to her team was the last thing she wanted, and having had enough of her team suffering in her stead, she took off from the formation, aiming instead towards the enemy line with her beloved labrys in hand. At her lead, her team followed suit, coming to grips with the enemy team. They covered her, as one after another, the opponents were annihilated by the Scythian’s effortless execution.

Everything had been working in their favour until, all of a sudden, Andromache found you planted firmly in her way. Although, if only for a moment, she was confused, she learnt just as quickly that a bullet had found home in your flesh. A moment later, and her axe, too, found sweet purchase directly between the eyes of your aggressor. Together, you made light work of defeating your opponents. As you kept them restrained with the help of your powers, she delivered finishing blows.

Between using your powers to assist her in combat and taking damages for her should the assaults were to prove lethal, one too many times had you use yourself as a shield. As a result, your body was riddled with many an injury which the Scythian noticed were taking longer than necessary to heal. Through the wounds leaked blood, and it made Andromache nauseous with worry.

What she perceived next, she heard it first, before she saw it. A loud bang of a gun that sounded from behind you.

Almost instinctively, her hands found home on your hips, soft flesh yielding beneath her calloused fingers as she quickly did a swap of positions. If a bullet were to hit, it would be her instead of you. The inevitable pain, which she was bracing for, never came. She understood why by the time her eyes fell on you. Tendrils of glowing green were dancing to your fingers’s desire as a protection was conjured around the pair of you.

The mission, once again, accomplished, she took the time to admire the delicate blossom of a smile on your lips. A feeling that quickly dissolved into worry upon hearing the little whimper that escaped them. By the time your eyes slipped shut, and your legs gave out, with her heart in her throat, she caught you in her arms.

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The shock Leonora the familiar felt upon seeing you in the Scythian’s arms only continued to crescendo when you were carried not into your room, but, hers.

“She isn’t healing. Why isn’t she healing?”

The question was evidently for her, and so, she answered.

“Immortality doesn’t grant her immunity to damage done by her mate. A mate’s rejection to a witch is quite possibly the most harrowing form of torture. It leads to deterioration of the body.”

Her response took a while to come. “How can I find them?” Leonora eyed the Scythian curiously as plethora of emotions flashed across her face before the words were hissed through gritted teeth. “Her mate.”

“A witch’s familiar cannot be understood by just anyone. Only her true mate can.”

“What are you implying?”

“You’ve been seeing her in your sleep, have you not? Long, long before her immortality came.”

By the way she was looking at her, sage green eyes shimmering with shame, she almost felt bad, emphasis on almost, because in the end, she did not shy away from rubbing salt on her wounds.

“Given your time on this earth, I had surely believed that you would know better than to jump to conclusions. I’ve overestimated you, it seems.”

“My time on this god-forsaken place is precisely why I can’t trust people outside of my team. On more than one occasion have I been led to plight by pity and my sense of duty. Some of which have caused me my comrades.”

“And you thought it wise to reject one of your own?”

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“I fucked up, I know. But I don’t want to fuck up any more than I already have.” The Scythian’s voice was laced with genuine upset as she pleaded with your cat, eyes desperately beseeching. “So, tell me, please. How can I fix this?”

“There are quite a few things you can do. That said, physical contact with her mate is the easiest and the most effective way for a witch to replenish her energy. I would strongly advise cuddling.”

Thus landed the Scythian into her bed that was presently housing your unconscious frame.

Only now, as she was lying face to face with you, did she realise how little she had looked at, let alone appreciated, you.

Tentative fingers touched a cheek so soft to unveil your face curtained by a few strands. Battle-hardened though they were, they executed the task with tremendous tenderness.

The scars that her eyes discovered upon wandering down your neck had the effect of jogging her memory. With the long forgotten memory now dug up and on the forefront of her mind, she was transported back in time.

During one of her travels, she had chanced upon a house on fire. Even though, normally, she would avoid involvement in fear of exposing herself, and consequently, her secret, she felt compelled to enter the roaring flames. What, or rather, who she found was a little girl trapped inside a room. Instead of crying as any child in such predicament most likely would have, she was busy murmuring reassurances to the little kitten that was cradled protectively in her tiny little arms. There was no doubt that she was in intense pain if the wound that had been leaking blood on her neck was any indication.

Now that she thought about it, the familiar dreams began on the very same night. It had been so dark in the house that she did not get a chance to properly see your face. Nevertheless, your cat was right. Andromache should have known. If she had only taken the time to think carefully instead of rushing to conclusion, all the suffering would have been spared. After all, in all the dreams that she had of you, you had never so much as harmed a hair on an ant’s, let alone, a person’s head. How big of a nitwit had she had to be to harbour the thought that you would be capable of intentionally sabotaging them.

With your face as sweet as Baklava and your heart so golden, you had to be the quintessence of innocence, pure, unsullied white, sent into her life to remind the Scythian, who was tainted with darkness and death, that the world was not only teeming with war and wickedness. In contrast, she had to be the wickedest of them all to be able to trample a delicate little bud without giving her a chance to prove herself.

She had, Andromache admitted, oh so cruelly, snuffed out the little shimmering ray of light. Come hell or high water, it was now the Scythian’s duty to chase away the heavy, stormy clouds that were threatening to devour the little sunshine.

If you were to allow it, she would, in fact, declare you her sunshine.

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Meanwhile, feeling rightfully smug, Leonora the cat revelled in having her head scratched as the ginger fur-ball lounged in Nile’s lap.

She might have made a drama out of a crisis while playing cupid, but what she had said, in her defence, were not entirely incorrect. She would be a fool not to make the most of a stellar opportunity if it meant making her best pal happy. After all, unlike you who was annoyingly upright, she was a firm believer that if used wisely, trickery always bore the sweetest of fruits. Plus, if you finally found someone to cuddle with, then, she would hopefully, thankfully be spared the odds of being squeezed to death.

And viola! If love was on your side and luck on hers, you would win yourself a girlfriend, while she got to experience freedom. It might just be the best example of killing two birds with one stone, if Leonora did say so herself.

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Waking up to a muscled body pressed against yours, and strong arms cocooning you, you had half a mind to believe that it was a by product of your sleep-ridden mind.

Only when you heard Leo’s voice in your head did you realise it was in fact not a hallucination.

“You really don’t have to do this.” Unlike your utterance, your actions suggested otherwise. As if possessing a mind of its own, your face had sought solace in the warm dip of her throat. When you spoke again, it was but a murmur. “I’m aware that you love Quynh.”

Her reply came a moment later in the form of a merciless stab to your heart. “I won’t lie to you. I do love Quynh.” Your endeavour to escape from her embrace was doomed to failure. “But, it is no longer the kind of love that I felt once upon a time. Loving her doesn’t equal falling in love with her.”

“It was hard, losing Quynh, and I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive myself.”

You were wounded, and thereupon, healed by her words. The choice, essentially, lay in her hands.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive myself either if something were to happen to you.”

She coaxed your face out of its little haven in favour of her soft-eyed gaze roaming over the planes and hills of your face.

“You must have felt scared. Lost. I was supposed to be there for you.”

In addition to the collapsed eyebrows, her voice had a sad lilt to it as a thumb gingerly caressed your cheek.

“I know a simple sorry cannot fix all the pain I’ve caused you, but if you’ll let me, I truly wish to earn your trust.”

Since the mood had been too gloomy to your liking, you opted for a lighter, more benign route with your response.

“Now, now, Andro-“

“Andy, please. Call me Andy.”

“Andy.”

Her name tasted sweet on your tongue.

“You were saying?”

“-someone might think you’re trying to woo me.”

You came dangerously close to disclosing your desire, and if you were being honest, you had been entertaining the idea of confronting her after your facade fell in front of the team. It was an all-or-nothing decision.

After everything she had said and done, you would be lying if you said you were not hoping for her to ruthlessly reject you. At the same time, saying that you were not foolishly hoping for her to miraculously return your feelings, too, would be a downright falsehood.

“What if I am?”

In the end, it was neither foolish nor impossible, though, it did feel miraculous all the same.

You liked her. Tremendously. And although it was true that she had hurt you, you knew for a fact that her reason for doing so was not ill-intentioned. It was done out of worry for her team, and blaming her for it would be ludicrous. You did admit that she had been terribly unkind to you, but you knew that she was altruistically caring at heart. Not only could you feel it, you liked her too much to deem the errors of her way irreparable. Mistakes came to be in the first place as an opportunity for one to learn from them. You were all to willing to give her a chance.

“Well then, Andromache of Scythia, luckily for you, I’m not very hard to please.”

“Kiss me as much as you’re sorry, and I’m all yours.”

You watched, giddy and gleeful, as a smile bloomed on her handsome face.

“With pleasure.”

Fanning the flames of heart palpitations by bombarding one with kisses, as sweet, and soft as soufflé, should be included in the ever-growing list of ways she knew how to kill a man. Of course, she was allowed to use this delightfully tantalising technique on you and you alone.

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this is how i imagine leo would look like as a cat

#andromache of scythia x reader #andromache the scythian x reader #andromache of scythia #andromache x reader #andy andromache of scythia #the old guard #andy x reader #lady lesso x reader #leonora lesso x reader #lady leonora lesso x reader #lady leonora lesso #lady lesso #leonora lesso #character x reader #charlize theron x reader #charlize theron #fanfic #soulmates #joe and nicky #joe x nicky #nile freeman #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #booker #quynh the old guard #quynh #labrys #light angst #leo the familiar

[nevermindirah]

Who talks to who, for how long and about what, in The Old Guard (2020) dir. Gina Prince Bythewood?

I got curious and so I watched the movie taking a lot of timestamp notes. way back three and a half years ago now, I watched this movie for the first time bc I like gritty action movies, and it's a really good one of those. I'm still obsessed with it all this time later because it's full to the brim with well-drawn characters who have compelling relationships with each other, and boy howdy does the data show it.

I was especially curious about who spends how much time alone together on screen, so I coded all the scenes with that in mind, and I found some really interesting patterns in the breakdown of scenes where just two characters talk, where one character is the sole focus, and when three characters talk.

the winners of course are Nile and Andy, our dual protagonists, who spend 10% of the movie's total runtime alone together. they also spend a lot of time with our dual friendly antagonists, Booker and Copley. scenes featuring combinations of just these four characters make up 40% of the total runtime.

Joe and Nicky show up less in this analysis because they're side characters who mostly appear in group scenes, but wow are they richly drawn side characters. they're key players in all but two scenes where four or more named characters talk.

read on for many numbers and much analysis of what it all means!

Andy Nile 0:12:20 Nile Booker 0:06:00 Andy Booker Copley 0:05:22 Andy Booker 0:05:01 Andy Nile Booker 0:04:56 Nile Copley 0:04:18 Nile alone 0:04:07 Andy alone 0:03:31

Andy Celeste 0:02:49 Merrick Copley 0:02:41 Joe Nicky 0:02:24 Nile Dizzy Jay 0:01:33 Andy Quynh 0:01:31 Andy Nile Merrick 0:00:52 Booker alone 0:00:32 Copley alone 0:00:28 Nicky Kozak 0:00:27 Booker Quynh 0:00:21 Copley Keane 0:00:09

(the spreadsheet, if anyone's interested in digging deeper with me)

of the 12 min that our main characters are alone together on screen, almost fully half is super duper antagonistic:

4:26 is the kidnapping sequence

1:29 is their conversation outside after Nile's nightmare featuring the iconic "me and those three men in there will keep you safe" "like Quynh?"

and 7 seconds is Nile glaring daggers at Andy after walking over all those bodies in the church

the other half breaks down like this:

2:14 is them connecting over their mortal families — where Andy makes Nile give her phone back at the end

1:45 is Nile telling Andy she's not doing this, that she's going back to her family — Andy pushes with "we'd do the same for you" but then relents and gives Nile the car

50 seconds of them gearing up for the last segment of the fight — Nile tries to get Andy to wear a bulletproof vest, she jokes around with "is this gonna be like the last signal?" — it's operations-focused but there's a real warmth between them by this point in the movie (this scene starts at 1:41:45, just 13 min before the credits roll)

and 1:29 of Andy looking at Nile like she hung the moon (which, extremely valid and relatable!) and Nile saying that the time Andy's got left "you're gonna spend it with us"

Nile has an uninterrupted 4:18 sequence with Copley that speed runs the same general shape of her arc with Andy, hella antagonistic to teamwork, though the latter here is more of a professional camaraderie than the real warmth we see Nile develop for Andy.

in this context Nile's arc with Booker is remarkably different. their first scene alone together is 1:11 in total, intercut with Andy killing mercs elsewhere in the church, and it's sort of their only scene with friction between them. Booker keeps telling Nile to wait for the signal without explaining what that means, annoyingly continuing Andy's grand tradition of not fucking answering Nile's reasonable questions, ugh. though another way of framing this is of course that he's too busy packing her a change of clothes while showing off his tits for her. as I noted in a previous meta, the end of this sequence is the one time Booker lies to Nile (claiming he doesn't know who the mercs are when he has at least a basic idea, though we don't know for sure whether Copley involved him in this specific plan).

after this Nile and Booker have two more scenes alone together and they're both extended conversations: 3:14 for their conversation alone in the cave after Andy leaves, and 1:18 when Nile joins Booker on the balcony outside the bar. both of these conversations are remarkably intimate for how little these characters have interacted beforehand. remember, 6:02 total of Nile and Andy alone together with heavy animosity (Andy shot Nile in the head ffs!) before things between them started to warm up. granted, the conversation where they first start to warm to each other is right after Nile's cave scene with Booker and Andy's scene with Celeste, so an argument could be made that this was the point in the movie where Nile started to feel ready to open up to the other immortals generally and her first one-on-one conversation once she got there was with Booker before Andy. I'm not saying you have to ship them just because they get so close so quick, but the numbers sure do make it clear that us BoNers aren't making this shit up out of nowhere.

Nile and Booker's heart-to-heart in the mine is the third-longest one-on-one conversation in the whole movie — third after Andy kidnapping Nile and Nile's sequence with Copley, which are both heavy on action and exposition and antagonism, making this the longest intimate conversation in the movie. their other heart-to-heart, 1:18 on the balcony outside the pub, is on par with Joe and Nicky's 1:17 in the van.

there's also a 51 sec sequence during the Merrick tower fight where it intercuts pretty much equally between three subsets of the action: Andy going off on her own with an axe, Joe waiting for Nicky to wake up after that head shot, and Nile and Booker being drift compatible when Nile's gun jams. we're not making this shit up out of nowhere.

ok back to our blorbos in chief. we get 4:07 of Nile as the sole focus, and 3:31 of the same for Andy.

the sequence of Nile going through hell on base just because she fucking lived (laser eyes @ her squad forever) lasts 1:14 and includes a few lines from minor characters. we get 15 sec of her first dreaming of the others and waking up unmoored, then a 20 sec reprise with her nightmare of the first person she killed. the sequence of her driving away from Copley's then figuring out what the empty gun clip means is 48 sec. and then, one of the things that stood out to me the most in really digging into these numbers: just how frequently and for how long the camera lingers on Nile's face in this movie.

extended closeups of Nile with no dialogue and no montage:

10 seconds staring at the car she crushed, killing Merrick in the process but somehow not herself

36 seconds in the elevator

and a whopping 44 seconds of listening to Frank Ocean

that's fully 1 minute and thirty seconds of this movie's 2 hr 5 min credits-included runtime devoted exclusively to long takes of Nile Freeman's face.

Andy's sole-focus time is a little less tidy, because the majority of it isn't precisely focused on her like with Nile. we get 15 sec of her staring at her hand, realizing her immortality is gone. I could have coded all the pieces of the movie more granularly to find all the moments where we get Andy reaction shots, but I also could've done that with all of them and I'm but one humble spreadsheet lover, and it's more interesting to me that Gina primarily uses other kinds of film language to put us into Andy's perspective.

1:35 of her cutting through all those mercs in the church — other people are active in this scene, but they're not shown as people, and the horror of that is exactly the point, for the viewer, for Nile, and for Andy herself

41 sec of her voiceover at the opening of the movie, over clips of the kill floor scene

1 min of her moodily sitting in the car after the pharmacy and flashing back to Lykon's death

the Andy/Quynh flashback sequence that's a subset of Nicky and Joe narrating to Nile is 1:31, so counting that alongside this flashback here brings us to a total of 2:31 of Andy/Quynh(/Lykon) alone together screen time. almost precisely equal to Joe and Nicky's total 2:24 alone together.

further underlining Booker and Copley as our tritagonists, we get one scene of on-screen alone time for each of them: 32 seconds of Booker being drunk six months later and 28 seconds of Copley reacting to the kill floor footage. it's easy to focus on the Andy in a Union uniform element of this Copley scene, but a photo of his late wife is visible in almost every frame. I went back and double checked — only 3 sec of those 28 don't contain that photo of his wife displayed proudly between the kill floor footage and the Civil War photo, 3 sec of Copley in closeup. now that's what I call environmental storytelling.

we get almost exactly 5 min each with the sets Andy + Booker + Copley, Andy + Booker, and Andy + Nile + Booker. ABC and ANB conversations tend toward driving the plot and fleshing out detail about immortality, though a decent chunk of ANB in the "is this a Rodin?" part of the cave scene is Nile and Booker talking about following the money (their first moment of drift compatibility!) while Andy angsts nearby, and a decent chunk of ABC at Copley's place is Andy and Booker's heartbreaking "this is what you wanted" "not like this" exchange while Copley awkwardly hovers. just under half of Andy and Booker's 5:01 on screen alone together is about his betrayal, 2:13 across three scenes. the other half breaks out pretty evenly between them talking about Nile, making battle plans, and just being pals.

has any mid-budget gritty action movie ever done it better? even the infodumps are full of character and relationship details.

I also find it noteworthy that Booker and Copley are never alone together, and they never directly acknowledge anything about their relationship. we know from what they tell other characters that they've been in contact before the events of the movie, probably for some time in some detail. we know they worked together to ultimately enable the cartoon-villain antagonists to do their villainy. Copley is direct about how these results were absolutely not what he intended, and we can infer from Booker's behavior that he wasn't aiming for decades of medical torture either. but we get no information about how they feel about each other. now that I'm looking at it with this frame, it seems like the absence of information is itself a kind of telling — Booker and Copley maybe purposefully avoiding 1:1 contact, purposefully treating each other as mere acquaintances when others are around, because to do otherwise would be to look their guilt in the eye. oh shit I think I might have given myself a whole new meta idea on this tangent here: Copley and Booker as mirrors for each other.

disclaimer as we're nearing the end that there's inevitably going to be bias and error in something like this. I measured by seconds not milliseconds and I wasn't always precise about where I paused to note timestamps at scene changes. sometimes I included what ended up amounting to several seconds of establishing shots and sometimes I didn't. and there are a bunch of edge cases where there's more than one way to count who was an active part of which scenes, like for example:

I separated out Andy and Booker's opening motorcycle stalking and Don Quijote chat from the later part of what was probably just one scene in the script, where Booker talks to the hotel clerk while Andy interacts with tourists nearby

I included all as one Nile + Dizzy + Jay scene the sequence where Dizzy and Jay talk to each other about Nile before they go into the med tent and act shitty to her face about how Nile's still alive

I counted as Copley + Merrick the conversation in the car where Keane and Kozak are present and react on camera but don't have lines per se

similarly I counted as Andy + Booker the "she wants to talk to her family" exchange after Nile and Nicky leave the dinner table; Joe's still sitting there next to them but he doesn't say anything and the camera doesn't focus on him

I didn't try to delete the time where Andrei said/did stuff from the 4:26 Andy kidnaps Nile sequence but I did remove a Keane cut-away from a later Andy + Nile scene

so much has already been lovingly written about how well Joe and Nicky spend their short on-screen alone time and rightly so. I don't have anything new to add there so I'll take a moment instead to shout out to the 27 sec of Nicky telling Kozak to go fuck herself, and also the iconic Joe headbutting Merrick. fuck, this movie is so so good. every moment is a delight.

#the old guard #tog meta #tog #mine

[astrabear]

Andromache is a Greek name, and Andy predated the Scythians by thousands of years. Also "Andromache" means "fighter of men" and the Scythians were famous for their mounted warriors.

So I imagine Lykon dying and reviving and dreaming of these ferocious women, for decades, and of course he needs to call them something even if it's just in his own head, so one of them becomes "Andromache the Scythian" because have you seen her? And then they all finally meet and have a good laugh about it and he and Quynh start calling her Andromache as a joke, and then it becomes a habit, and you know she really kind of likes it, and then Lykon dies, which wasn't supposed to be possible, and she stays Andromache the Scythian because that means he's still part of the team, even the new ones who never met him will carry him with them.

(Now, you might very well ask, why does Lykon name her in Greek? I am working on a headcanon for that as well, one that is at least vaguely historically plausible, because some of us actually know how to use Wikipedia, Greg.)

(Quynh is the only other person in the world who knows Andy's original name. When Andy realizes she's mortal again, she thinks about how it'll be after she dies, no one remembering who she was so long ago, just Quynh screaming her name at the bottom of the ocean with no one to hear.)

#the old guard #andromache the scythian #lykon #quynh #tog headcanons

[youssefguedira]

have a little more fencing world champion joe. because it's worlds again and olympics soonish. enjoy

The clock on the nightstand changes from 01:36 to 01:37, and Joe sighs, rolling over to stare up at the ceiling. Nicky, beside him, shifts in his sleep but doesn't wake.

Joe, however, has been awake since at least 12:08, and feels far too restless to sleep. It's almost certainly jet lag: they're in Chicago for a little while, visiting Nile and her family, and largely trying to enjoy the last little bit of free time they have left until training begins again in earnest. Of course, Joe's kit bag is lying open at the foot of the bed, and Nicky's beside it: just because they're not formally training doesn't mean they won't need it at all.

Still, Joe can't sleep. He sighs again, and gives up on trying to do so entirely. Maybe he'll be able to find some time to rest tomorrow, though he doubts it. Nile's got a lot of things she wants to show them, and Joe would ordinarily be thrilled, if he wasn't so tired.

It'll pass, Andy told him, though she doesn't seem to have been affected by it at all. He's almost certain they'll meet her in the morning for breakfast and she'll be exactly as normal, as if they haven't just crossed multiple time zones. Even Nicky, who hadn't struggled nearly as much as Joe had, had begun to slow down some time around midday, but Andy had been fine.

He gets out of bed, careful not to wake Nicky, who's rolled onto his side facing the door. With nothing else to do, Joe makes his way to the little balcony attached to their room, picking up his phone from the nightstand on the way. The sliding door squeals a little when he opens it, but when he looks over at Nicky he hasn't even moved.

While it's certainly quieter than it had been before, the city is nowhere near silent. It's beautiful, though, and Joe takes a picture to send to his sister.

She texts him back immediately. Pretty, but isn't it like the middle of the night for you?

1 am, Joe responds. Jet lag.

His phone lights up with a call then, but not from Amira. He reads the contact name and answers, heart in his throat.

Oof, is Amira's response.

He almost drops his phone when he realises what they're calling him for.

By the time they hang up, his hands are shaking: he stays like that, phone still pressed to his ear even after the call has ended, for at least a few minutes.

Finally, at a loss for what else to do, he lowers his phone and goes back inside. Sits down on the edge of the bed.

The movement is just enough to wake Nicky, who blinks a few times before sliding into awareness all at once, the way he always does. He sits up, leaning against the headboard, pushing his hair out of his eyes. "Joe?" he asks, voice still slightly hoarse from sleep. He frowns when Joe doesn't answer straight away. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Joe says. Fidgets with his phone, screen now dark, still in his hands. "Uh. They want me for the Olympic team."

Nicky is silent for all of a split second before his expression breaks into a wide smile. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Joe can't keep himself from smiling now, either, as Nicky cups the back of Joe's neck with one hand, leans in to press their foreheads together. Joe closes his eyes.

"Of course they do, Joe," Nicky says then. "You're the best in the world right now. You're going to be incredible."

There are times when that doesn't quite feel real, even if it's been a while.

"You'll come with me?" Joe asks.

"Always," Nicky says. Then he pulls back and kisses Joe's cheek, his forehead, the space between his eyes, until Joe laughs.

"I love you," Nicky tells him.

They'd met fencing épée, of all things. Andy had invited the seven of them – they hadn't quite been friends yet, but Joe had known Quynh for a couple years by then, and Andy too, while Nicky had already known Nile – to train with her and Quynh for a while, and Joe couldn't possibly refuse, because Andy was both his friend and one of the best coaches in the world back then. She'd made them all switch to a weapon they didn't usually use, and Joe and Nicky had picked épée: Joe because he figured it would be easier than restricting his target area to the torso only, and Nicky because épée was far closer to foil than sabre. They'd been about evenly matched, and it had been – well, it had been fun.

Joe had left a week later with Nicky's number in his phone and a small, fluttering hope in his chest. And even if they hadn't kept in touch very well those first few months, when the World Championships came around, and Joe had qualified for the second time, Nicky had joined Andy to meet him at the airport, grinning widely when he caught sight of him.

The rest, as they say, is history.

"I love you too," Joe says.

"You want to tell the others?" Nicky asks.

Joe looks at him for a moment. Looks at the clock. "It's 1 am, Nicky. Andy will kill us both."

Nicky snorts. "In the morning, then?"

"In the morning," Joe agrees.

Neither of them end up going back to sleep until 4 am, and they're both exhausted at breakfast the next morning, but. It's worth it.

#neon writes #fencing au #(but like. professional) #the old guard #kaysanova #userlyde #userlinax #do i know what this is? nah. but i was thinking about then #*them #nicky also goes to the olympics btw. he finds out the night after #nile (who is lucky enough to be in the right timezone) also qualifies etc etc. my backstory for her is winning us collegiate and then #she also wins gold for women's individual and silver in team foil in the 2022 worlds. assuming this takes place in the real world #i think nicky has already been to one olympics (his backstory is basically the same as his regular fencing au backstory except he actually #goes to the olympics fairly young as opposed to dropping out for injury. #i think andy coaches for paris. this is also like her regular fencing au backstory #somewhere between cairo (2022) and paris (2024) she gets bored of competition and just coaches full time (for nile i think) #she and quynh ARE married but she doesn't coach quynh because otherwise they argue abt it. famously. work life balance and all that #anyway. that's your Infodump for today. i Do however think about them constantly so #gritting my teeth. maybe épée is ok and valid and has a purpose SOMETIMEZ #*sometimes. didn't mean to spell that with a z but oh well

[evolutionsbedingt]

I decided to make this a separate post because I realised this derailed quickly into me being frustrated by shoddy research BUT.

Inspired by this post by @/polarcell, who is also the owner of the following screenshot, here there be an

The Old Guard rant:

^Those were my tags before I decided not to bother OP with this.

As I've recently (as in, until last week) spent an enjoyable semester getting annoyed by Mycannaen Greek and whether or not the Ilias has any convincingly 12th century BCE features, I have even more opinions on this than I already had.

You see, in the fifth millennium in the Western Asian steppes (usually defined as the steppes on the western side of the Ural mountains - yes that's a lot of territory, don't worry about it) we didn't have Greek people. Hell, Greek people weren't even a speck on the horizon yet. Their ancestors, the Proto-Indo-European people may have just started to arrive from the Caucasus, but we're very, very far away from speaking Greek or using the name 'Scythians'.

Scythians are commonly defined as the people living in the North Pontic steppes between 7th and 3rd century BCE. Their name may derive from a self-description as archers. They spoke Scythian languages, Thracian (both Trümmer languages), Ancient Greek and Proto-Slavic (only known in reconstruction). Probably. Because thanks to the Scythians being nomadic we don't have a whole lot of writing from them, much less bigger texts in their own language.

And Andromache? Is first attested in Homer's Illiad and Fragment 44 by Sappho, both dated to the 8th century.

So it's possible for a Scythian woman to be called Andromache (and considering the meaning of her name it's quite appropriate for Andy to take it on). BUT! She's not originally Scythian! Her real name is not Andromache! This is an epithet she didn't bother getting rid off after the fall of the Scythian "empire"! She spent four thousand years being called something else beforehand, maybe something that sounded similar, maybe something we cannot possibly explain with PIE linguistics! BECAUSE SHE'S PROBABLY NOT EVEN PIE!! DO YOU KNOW HOW BADLY I WANT TO SIT THIS WOMAN DOWN AND MAKE HER SPEAK HER ORIGINAL LANGUAGE!!!?

(Also, her speaking "all" languages would in fact make sense for European and some Iranic languages if she is actually PIE and not from a people that lived in the Western Asiatic steppes before the immigration of the PIE people. And if she's been with Quynh for a few millennia - possibly even pre-Scythian times? did they arrive with them from the East? - it is very likely that an equal proficiency in the precursors of various East Asiatic and Turkic languages leads to an easy grasp of those. The rest probably is travelling and, I assure you, once you've learned a certain amount of languages it becomes easier to learn new ones.)

So what I'm saying is: Give me Andy's real name you cowards! I'm sure a friendly PIE linguist would have a lot of fun coming up with one (and perhaps it'll even be pronounceable for English people :P)!

#I have been meaning to make a post like this since 2020

[femaledaily]

Her name was Quynh. She was one of us.

#the old guard #theoldguardedit #togedit #filmedit #userlyra #usernorah #userk8 #tuserems #userrin #usertreena #useremi #userjulie #usersamanne #userrobin #romulusnuffles #userriah #userhella #userairam #~ #valentina

[m1ckeyb3rry]

── THE GLASS PRINCESS // SEVENTEEN

Series Synopsis: You wake up in a strange room with no memories, broken glass at your bedside, and a prince named Zuko as your only chance at figuring out who you really are.

Chapter Synopsis: Now that you have regained your memories, you and Bian must set off in search of allies.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.6k

Content Warnings: complicated relationships (strangers to friends to lovers to enemies to strangers to lovers to enemies to lovers), amnesia, alternate universe, lots of secrets and lying and mystery

A/N: hey…how y’all doing…sorry this chapter is so blech it’s a little transition thing so that the next arc can finally start in full LMAO i don’t really like it but it does what it has to

You threw the book away from you, earning a surprised squawk from Bian. She flapped her wings and drew back, the feathers of her crest standing on end in an attempt to look intimidating before smoothing down as she realized there was no imminent threat. Then, she cocked her head at you, cooing in confusion.

“That half-witted, self-involved, traitorous excuse for a person!” you said to her. “That — that — well, he is lucky I’ve only realized who I am now that I have already run away, or else I’d march to the palace and kill him myself!”

The Princess of the Earth Kingdom. The Princess of the Earth Kingdom. That was who you really were. The Soldiers of Agni had not been the ones to destroy the wing of the Earth Palace, you had. They were not the ones who had been vastly outnumbered in the face of opposition, you were. And the royal family of the Earth Kingdom had not entirely been killed during the coup, because you were still alive.

But — but did that mean Kuei was dead? Had they gone into Ba Sing Se and found him and murdered him? Your dear brother…there was such a low chance that he would’ve survived on his own, and an even lower chance that he would’ve escaped notice. Not with his bumbling, innocent worldview. Not with Bosco constantly at his side, drawing attention without even trying. Not without any way to defend himself, no bending or weapons or guards to speak of.

Then it had been meaningless. You had given up your life for nothing. Kuei was dead. The Avatar was dead — or, if he was not quite yet dead, then he would soon fall again at Princess Azula’s hands. Ba Sing Se had been conquered by the Fire Nation, and all the while you had been lounging around in the palace of the very country that had stolen your home, attending its school and befriending its people.

“Ursa,” you seethed, getting up and pacing restlessly, the ground shaking with your every step as your long-suppressed bending flared to life and ran wildly out of control. “A prisoner of the Earth Kingdom’s. Hilarious. Hilarious. Tortured for Fire Nation secrets! What a great story, huh, Bian? Lifted directly from Seven Soldiers of Agni, I’d wager! And all the while, I was his prisoner, and I didn’t even know it! I — I spoke so kindly to the person who ordered my execution…”

The ground stopped shaking as your anger faded, replaced with a bout of the mourning you had not yet been allowed to feel. Mourning for your brother, who you would never see again. Mourning for those days you had spent with Lee and Mushi, which were the few in which you had truly been happy. Mourning for your subjects, who were now in the grasp of the Fire Nation, likely under even more oppressive conditions than before.

“What can I even do now?” you whispered, though you had no illusions that anyone would answer. There was no Quynh to advise you this time. You had to do it yourself. You had to make the decisions.

Yet, you had attempted such a thing before, hadn’t you? You had tried to do the right thing back in the Earth Palace. You had sacrificed yourself to save your brother, to buy your kingdom time, but you had been ultimately unsuccessful. The only decisions you had ever made for yourself had been the wrong ones. So how could you be sure that the next ones you made would not be more of the same? How could you be sure when there was such a high probability that you would once again choose incorrectly?

“I am lost,” you admitted to Bian, a tear rolling down your cheek, followed by another, and then another. “I am utterly lost. I have nary a clue where to go next.”

Bian blinked at you. She was the only one around who you could talk to, but of course, you should not have expected her to be able to talk back. She wasn’t a spirit in the way of Quynh. She was just a regular, if not spectacularly bred and incredibly intelligent, bird.

There was no point in dawdling about hopelessly. Once the sun rose properly, Jia-Li would awaken and realize that you were gone for good. And then — and then you could expect the worst. There was no way that the Fire Nation would allow you to live, not now that you knew your true identity. There was no way Prince Zuko would allow you to jeopardize him like that. You had only this one night before the royal forces were sent after you.

“I have to find allies,” you said as you attempted to calm yourself by recounting the supplies you had brought with you.

It was the most important thing. If you wanted a chance at retaking your kingdom, then you needed people on your side, people who had the strength to back you up in that endeavor. A few days ago, the only allies you could claim to have had were Jia-Li and Ty Lee, but the situation had changed drastically, and now, they could both be considered nothing but enemies.

Your best chance lay in finding Katara, Sokka, and the rest of the Southern Water Tribe forces. Although their fleet was nothing magnificent, it was at least a starting point, one which you desperately needed. From there, you would take their advice into consideration as you tried to figure out a way to regain your kingdom from the clutches of the Fire Nation.

You slept fitfully, restlessly, awakening often and gazing up at the moon before uneasily convincing yourself to rest for just a little longer. The effect was that by the time the blazing sun began to rise in the cloudless sky, you were no less exhausted than you had been when it had set.

“We must be off,” you said, slinging your bag over your shoulder and whistling for Bian, who had flown off some minutes ago to hunt. When she did not appear immediately, you whistled again, holding out your arm for her to perch on. “Bian! We hardly have the time for this!”

There was a furious shriek, and then Bian tumbled out of the air, one of her wings bent at an awkward angle as a raven eagle dove after her with claws outstretched. Although she could not fly, she still snapped at her foe, her fearsome beak bloody around the corners, a streak of red upon the raven eagle’s breast where she must’ve been able to catch him.

“Bian!” you shouted, racing over to catch her and holding her to your chest as the raven eagle pulled out of its dive, too cowardly to face a foe so much larger than it. It screeched at you in contempt before soaring up out of the forest and out of view. You ignored it, setting Bian on the ground and using the ends of your sleeves to wipe at her beak. “Why would you do that? Why did you challenge that awful bird?”

Bian offered you her leg. At first, you thought she was trying to show you another injury, but beyond her broken wing, she seemed to have escaped the scuffle unscathed. Seconds later, you realized she was clutching a rolled up scroll tightly in her claws, only relinquishing it when you pressed on it with your pointer finger.

“Where did you find this?” you said. It was sealed with the stamp of the Fire Nation military, though you doubted that that raven eagle had any association with the army. Likely it had intercepted some official communications, and Bian, who had after all once been a Fire Nation bird, had attacked him for the treachery.

There wasn’t much written on the note, but for you, who had just regained your memories, it was yet another foundation-shaking statement.

The Avatar lives. Alert the Fire Lord immediately.

The Avatar was alive. Aang was alive, and he must’ve hale, for such an urgent letter to be sent off to the military, which meant that there was hope. If — if you could just reach him before Princess Azula did, then there was hope. Returning to Ba Sing Se would not be such a fever dream if you had the Avatar at your side, and you scooped Bian back into your arms, kissing her between her eyes.

“You always bring me such lovely things, Bian,” you said. She cooed at you plaintively, and you winced in dismay as you realized her wing hung uselessly at her side, her body shaking in your hands from the pain of the destruction of her frail bones. “And this is the thanks you receive. From what I recall, there is a village nearby, and there should be someone who can treat you in it. We will do that first, and from there, we will figure out some way to find the Avatar.”

Strangely, as you trekked through the forest, you found yourself grateful for your enrollment at the academy. This was exactly the kind of situation you had run drills for, and whereas in your years as the princess of the Earth Kingdom you would’ve run out of breath or fallen or underwent some other, similar calamity, your time as Ursa of the Fire Nation had prepared you for this.

It was the last gift Prince Zuko had given you, unwittingly though it may have been. By sending you to that school, he had inadvertently prepared you to be his most dangerous enemy — made more dangerous for the fact that he must have believed you still loved him, or at least held enough affection for him that you’d excuse his actions upon coming to know of them.

You didn’t excuse them. How could you? He had taken everything from you, and then he had dragged you back to his nation without any care for how it might make you feel. What selfishness! What ignorance! What folly! It was blindness on his part, to imagine that a bear could flourish in a land of phoenixes, to truly believe that you could’ve been happy in the Fire Nation for any extended amount of time.

You made it to the village by noon, and though there was no reason for anyone there to recognize you, you ducked your head as you raced to the post office, where all mail brought to the village was kept to be sorted and distributed into mailboxes. Because of the large influx of messenger hawks that went back and forth from the post office, you were more likely to find help for Bian there than anyone else.

“Excuse me, postmaster, sir,” you said, bowing at the man who was sitting at the counter behind piles of letters. “Might I trouble you for a moment?”

“What is it?” he said gruffly, clearly irritated by your request. You wilted at the unsaid rebuke, but then you straightened your shoulders again. It didn’t matter if the man was annoyed — Bian needed help, and you would get it for her.

“My hawk, I think her wing is broken,” you said, placing Bian on the counter and shushing her when she tried to flap away in vain. The postmaster squinted at her.

“She’s a fine example of the species,” he said, a note of suspicion entering his tone. “Where’d you find such a lovely creature? And why’d you let her get in this condition? Birds such as her are meant to be ornaments, symbols of status, not actual messengers.”

Yet another thing Prince Zuko had neglected to tell you. Well, this you could not blame him for; Bian was not the sort to sit around and be a status symbol. Flying and working and fighting were a part of her nature, and she would be miserable without those outlets for her energy.

“She’s mine,” you said. “I got her in the capital city. You know that they only sell the finest of wares there. Though, of course, I could not afford a hawk for mere decorative purposes, so it’s true that I use her to send my letters.”

The postmaster scoffed. “Idiot.”

“Look, is it possible for her to be healed?” you said, rolling your eyes when he bent to inspect Bian’s wing. “That’s all I’m asking for, sir.”

Now that you remembered who you were, it felt odd to be so deferential to a person who you outranked so vastly. Unfortunately, at least for now, everyone thought you were nothing but another common girl, which meant that just about any person you conversed with had to be addressed with respect.

“She’ll be alright in a couple of weeks,” he said, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a piece of cloth, wrapping it around Bian’s wing so that it was flush to her body. “You’ll have to carry her around and take care of her in the meantime, but as long as you’re willing to do that, she’ll be able to fly again soon enough. It’ll be like she was never injured.”

“Yes, of course,” you said, sighing in relief at the thought that she would make a full recovery. “Thank you for your help. Did you hear, Bian? You’ll be okay.”

“You named her Bian?” the postmaster said. “What, have you been engaging with the colony trash?”

“Pardon?” you said. “What did you just say?”

“The colonies are such a blight on the Fire Nation,” he said. “Infecting even good and proper girls like you with their backwards customs and words. It’s a disgrace.”

The colonies was the general term used to refer to the Earth Kingdom villages which had fallen to Fire Nation rule. You had never been to any, but from what you had gathered, they were hotbeds of strife and inequality, where the Fire Nation soldiers lorded over the native Earth Kingdom citizens.

Of course — you had not realized it when you had given it to her, but Bian’s name was Earth Kingdom, so the postmaster was not entirely incorrect in guessing that you were from the colonies or had spent some days there. That was not what you were so horrified by — it was the latter part of his accusation, the notion of the Earth Kingdom citizens infecting the Fire Nation, which you took offense to.

Your people were not the invaders. Your people were not the aggressors. Your people had been living in peace until the Fire Nation attacked. If there was any blight, it was them, those destructive forces who burnt and burnt until the world fell to their feet. They were the stain upon the earth, so on what moral authority could this postmaster stand and claim that you were the disgraceful ones?

“Hm,” you said, though you longed to shout at him. There would be no gain from a burst of anger, though. It would only serve to give away your disguise, and you could not have that, not when you were still close enough to the capital that you could be easily tracked down by Prince Zuko and his ilk if you made even a single misstep. “Maybe so.”

“Do you need anything else? I’ll suffer pay cuts if I don’t get this mail sorted by evening,” the postmaster said.

“Pay cuts? You’re a government employee, aren’t you? Your pay shouldn’t be cut without extreme circumstances demanding it,” you said.

“It’s a new policy that Fire Lord Ozai’s put into place,” the postmaster said. “Those not performing to expected capacity will be punished, even though expected capacity is such an unrealistic goal. I haven’t seen my family in a week! I’ve just been sorting mail, mail, and more mail! But, ah, that’s not to say I’m complaining. All hail the royal family!”

“All hail the royal family,” you repeated, as was customary, even though the words were sour on your tongue. “Though that’s certainly a strange development.”

“It’s fine,” the postmaster said. “The Fire Lord is right, as per usual. If even one piece of a machine is not running smoothly, then the entire construction is forfeit. Maybe it doesn’t seem important, but if I am deficient in my work, then the entire nation will be that much delayed.”

“Very well,” you said. “If that’s how you wish to view it, I shan’t stop you. In fact, I’ll leave you to it, though not without a final question: is there any kind of transport that I can take to get somewhere else?”

“Depends on where you want to go,” he said, hunching over the pile of mail again and beginning to sort once more, eyes flicking up to meet yours when he spoke and then returning to his task immediately after.

“I’m not sure,” you said. “Just somewhere far from here.”

Belatedly, you realized you probably sounded even more suspicious, which was not a good thing, considering the postmaster was already likely questioning you, but luckily, he did not say anything beyond humming.

“I know of a couple that’s rented a carriage to take them to some southern hospital. You could probably ask to go along with them,” he said.

You brightened. The south was as good of a place to start as any; either way, it was in a different direction from the capital city, so even if the trip did not take you to the Avatar, it would deposit you in a place that was further from Prince Zuko’s reach than you were at present.

“Thank you,” you said. “And where might I find them?”

“The town square, most likely,” he said.

“Farewell, then,” you said, tucking Bian under your arm as you raced off. She did not protest, closing her eyes and enjoying the breeze as you sprinted towards the town square, hoping you would not miss the rental carriage’s departure.

As you skidded to a stop in front of a fountain, you huffed in relief when you saw a pregnant woman standing beside a man with a bag slung across his back. Though you had no description to go off of, you were willing to bet money that they were the couple that the postmaster had been referring to, and, after taking a second to catch your breath, you put on your best smile and walked over to bow at the couple.

“Hello, sir, madam,” you said. “I heard from the postmaster that you’ve rented a carriage to go to a southern hospital.”

“Yes, we did. It should be arriving soon,” the woman said.

“Why?” the man said warily, shifting so that he was standing half in front of the woman protectively.

“If you are not opposed, I should like to join you on your journey,” you said, poking Bian in the side. She squawked at you in indignation, and though you momentarily felt bad for bothering her when she was already injured, the noise served to draw the couple’s attention to her. Giving them a winning smile, you brandished Bian in front of you. “As you can see, my messenger hawk is injured. I am hoping to go to that same hospital and seek medical care for her.”

Bian cocked her head at them, blinking in a way that you could only pray they found charming. The man and woman exchanged looks.

“I didn’t know they treated animals, too,” the woman said, rubbing her stomach unsurely.

“Given the state of the, um, economy, they’ve expanded their client base,” you said, batting your own eyelashes. “I shall recompense you upon arrival, naturally.”

“I suppose it can’t hurt,” the man said, though you doubted he trusted you any.

“Thank you, sir. I promise you will not regret this!” you said.

“I sure hope not,” he said. Bian nipped your hand, and you shook your head before setting her on your shoulder, though not without reprimanding her for the impolite behavior.

“You won’t!”

The carriage rolled into the square only minutes later, and you thanked Quynh internally for sending you into the town at just the right time. Only a bit of a delay and you would’ve been stuck traveling by foot, but instead you would be making your way across the Fire Nation in relative style, taking up your own bench in the carriage and letting Bian rest atop your bags beside you.

“So, what’s your name?” the woman said as the carriage rolled off. You almost responded with Ursa out of habit, but you stopped yourself just in time. You didn’t want to wear anything associated with Prince Zuko, not even a name, and if the couple happened to be questioned at any point, then you did not want your well-known moniker to fall from their lips.

“Jia-Li,” you said easily, borrowing the first Fire Nation name you could think of, apologizing to your likely-frantic roommate as you did so. You had no specific quarrel with her, after all. One day, eventually, when she joined her nation’s army and became your enemy in full, you would not think of her so fondly, but for the moment, she was nothing more than a girl who had been kind to you. Your friend. “My name is Jia-Li.”

“That’s a pretty name,” she said.

“Thank you,” you said. You recognized that you probably ought to ask them for their names in return, but you did not. They were, after all, doing you a great favor by letting you ride in the carriage with them, and you would not repay their kindness with understanding.

If you knew their names, then you could incriminate them as accomplices in your escape, should you ever be captured or otherwise under duress. No, unawareness was the best policy. Maybe you’d seem ruder for it, but it was for their own good that you did so.

“I’m due to give birth soon,” the woman said after an awkward moment where no one spoke. “That’s why we’re going to the southern hospital, you see.”

“Do you expect complications?” you said.

“Every woman in my line has died in childbirth,” she said. “My mother, and her mother before her, and hers before her, so on and so forth. It’s like a curse. We’re hoping that, with the advancements in medicine that have taken place recently, there’s a chance I won’t fall victim to it as well. The southern hospital is supposedly the best in all the Fire Nation — we’ve been on the waitlist for an appointment for months.”

“Oh,” you said, staring out of the window at the scenery flashing by. “My mother died in childbirth as well. I suppose we have that in common.”

Or maybe not. Maybe Sokka’s hunch had been right and Long Feng had had some hand in her death, too. Maybe childbirth was just an easy way to explain her demise, which would’ve been unnatural in any other circumstance. You wouldn’t put it past the scheming Grand Secretariat and his Dai Li underlings, who had proven they would do anything for just a little bit more power.

That was the first thing you’d do, you vowed. As soon as you had your kingdom back, you would put every single one of those horrible people that had had a hand in your parents’ deaths and Ba Sing Se’s fall on trial. None of them would be spared. Even if it took days, you would bring each of them to justice. Perhaps it was a vindictive thought to have, but it made you feel better to think it, so you did not allow anything resembling a conscience to demand you stop.

“I’m sorry,” the man said.

“I mourn who she might’ve been,” you said. “But not who she was. I never knew her, after all. Though I thank you for it, you should save your concern for those in direr need.”

The closer and closer you got to the southern hospital, the more the man fretted, fussing over his wife, who seemed to be perpetually near tears. You did not blame either of them; the prospect of the woman’s possibly imminent death was sickening for you, too, and you did not even know her that well.

It was mystifying to you. If she knew that she had such a high chance of dying while giving birth, why had she chosen to conceive? It made no sense. It was an entirely avoidable form of death, and despite the insensitive nature of the query, you posed the question to her.

“Because,” she said without even taking the time to think, squeezing her husband’s hand, “there’s a chance.”

“A chance?” you said.

“A chance,” she affirmed. “That I’ll survive. That our baby will be healthy. That we can have the family we’ve dreamed of. It’s a small chance, admittedly. Maybe even a minuscule one. Most people call us insane for risking it. I’m sure you think the same. But the truth is that, as long as that chance exists, I have to rely on it. We have to.”

“Do you think it’s worth it?” you said.

“Maybe not to some,” she said. “Everyone has to decide what they value, and then they just have to do what they can in pursuit of that thing.”

You were silent for a second, swallowing, gathering your thoughts, finding boldness in the anonymity of the conversation. They did not know you, and you did not know them, and it gave you the confidence to say something you would not dare vocalize to anyone else.

“What if a person values two things that are in conflict?” you said. “Say, their home and someone they love. What then?”

It was the man who spoke up this time. “If they really love that person, then they’ll do as that person wishes, even if it’s difficult. Even if it means they can’t have something else they desire.”

He glanced at the woman when he spoke, and you realized that he must have been speaking from personal experience.

“I see,” you said. “I guess it must be like that.”

It was a confirmation of what you had thought — that Prince Zuko had never loved you, not like you had loved him. You had given him everything, had allowed him through Quynh’s Door, and all the while, he had felt nothing for you. He had been pretending. You had told him the way to get into the palace, and he had seized the opportunity you had presented him with.

That was all you were to him. That was all you had ever been. An opportunity. A key. A door. What a stupid girl you were, to think he had ever thought of you as anything but Princess Y/N, his very own entrance to the Earth Palace.

“We’re really worried,” the man confided in you as the woman slept. “It took so long for the hospital to agree to see us, and longer to find a rental carriage willing to travel so far. If anything happens and we’re late to the appointment, I’m afraid they’ll turn us away. As it is, we’ll probably arrive with only an hour to spare.”

“I’m sure there won’t be any issues,” you said. Almost on cue, the carriage caught on something, and then it rolled to a stop. You swore under your breath before pursing your lips, not wanting to seem even impoliter than you already had.

“What’s happening?” the man said in a panic, pulling the curtains back and peering out the window. His wife woke with a start, glancing around, still dazed.

“What’s going on?” she echoed.

“By my estimates, it’s a routine stop. Perhaps one of the dragon moose grew tired and needed to be given water. There’s nothing to fret about,” you soothed, though you had no clue whether that was the truth or not. “I’m sure we’ll get going in just a few moments.”

The carriage door opened, and the driver entered, hunching over to fit in the doorway as he looked at you all with a grave expression.

“It seems we’ve hit someone,” he said.

“What?” the man shrieked.

“As in, they’re dead?” you said.

“No, they’re living, but they’re demanding payment for the injuries and trauma,” he said.

“Go on, then,” you said. “Pay them.”

“The company I work for doesn’t give us extra allowance for accidents,” the driver said. “It’s stated in the terms of the contract that passengers are responsible for additional fees incurred during the trip.”

“Just negotiating is going to take a while,” the man said, pale-faced. “Not to mention any savings we didn’t waste on hiring you are meant to pay for the hospital visit. We don’t have any extra!”

“You’ve possibly wounded the child for life,” the carriage driver said dully. “Yet you’re still being stingy?”

You frowned as you watched the back and forth, the way the woman’s eyes had widened and grown glossy with tears, the way the man’s fists were clenched to disguise the trembling of his hands. Though the situation was so different, you were reminded of Ba Sing Se. Here, too, the ordinary people were suffering. And here, too, though they were not your people, you felt a sense of duty prevailing in you, commanding you to help.

“I’ll deal with it,” you said. “You, just get them to the hospital as soon as possible. They have an appointment that they cannot miss.”

“But Jia-Li, what about your bird?” the woman said.

“Eh?” you said. She pointed at Bian. “Oh, we’ll, um, find another doctor nearby. You ought to worry only for your own condition, madam.”

“Thank you, miss,” the man said.

“Consider this my payment for the ride and the advice,” you said. “I thank you for both, and I pray that your child may be born with a good spirit and a healthy mother. May Agni be with you always.”

“You as well,” the woman said.

“We won’t ever forget what you’ve done for us,” the man promised you. “This may be the last time we meet, but we’ll remember you.”

You smiled at them, picking up your bag of things in one hand and Bian in the other.

“I’ll think of you often,” you promised, kicking the door shut behind you and hopping off the carriage, waving at the carriage driver to indicate that he could leave without you before turning to the scene of the wreck — only to find that there was no wreck, just a familiar boy standing and staring at you with a dropped jaw.

“Princess — Princess — Princess Y/N? Is that really you?” he said.

Your bag fell from your hands in shock as you comprehended who you were looking at. Placing Bian on the ground, you took a step forward, reaching your hands out, trying to ascertain if he was real or not.

“Sokka?” you said. “Sokka, what are you doing here? Why do I always encounter you in these strange, random places?”

“I should be asking you the same question!” he said. “Aren’t you supposed to be dead right now?”

“Yes,” you said, and then you were throwing your arms around him and hugging him tightly, so relieved to finally have found one true ally, one person who knew who you really were. His own arms wound around your back, and unbidden, your lower lip began to tremble as the safety of his embrace finally allowed you to unabashedly weep. “Yes, I should be dead. I thought I was dead.”

“Looks like your brother threw a fit over nothing,” a new voice said — Toph! It was Toph, springing to her feet from where she had been lying in the road, dusting herself off. “I mean, honestly, I get that he was sad and all, but an escape is not exactly the moment to throw yourself to the ground and bawl and dramatically swear you’ll never leave the city your sister is buried in! It’s a miracle we dragged him and Bosco away.”

“What?” you said. “Do you — Do you mean to say that my brother is alive?”

“Yeah, he is,” Toph said. “He ran off to explore the Earth Kingdom and find himself, though. Something about how if ‘his dear baby sister could be so brave, then it was about time he started doing the same.’”

“Kuei,” you said, overcome with a wave of affection for your brother. He was alive. Somehow, despite the odds, despite everything working against him, he had made it. He had found the others, and he had survived, which meant you could see him again. The two of you could reclaim Ba Sing Se together, united in your efforts instead of carrying each other’s banners in memory.

“He really loves you,” Sokka said. “It’s one of the few things I have to give to him. He’s a lot of things, but a bad brother isn’t one of them.”

You wiped away your tears, letting go of Sokka and stooping down to grab your bag and the discarded Bian, who thankfully did not seem too miffed about the proceedings, nudging you with her beak in what you could only assume was her method of showing you affection.

“He’s the most wonderful brother,” you said. “I didn’t always appreciate that, but I will make sure to tell him every hour of every day once we may meet again.”

“That’s cheesy,” Toph said. “But kinda cute.”

“Wait, Toph,” you said. “This is a little bit unrelated, but were you the one that the carriage hit?”

“Uh,” Toph said, scratching the back of her neck.

“Well,” Sokka said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Kind of?” Toph said.

Your jaw dropped as you realized what they had done, and, looking around to make sure no one was watching, you lifted a pebble using your Earthbending and flicked it into Sokka’s forehead. This earned you a wounded yelp from him and a cackling laugh from Toph, who you had not bothered attacking on account of her seismic sense.

“You buffoons,” you said. “Did you seriously try to scam me?”

taglist (comment/send an ask/dm to be added): @rinisfruity14 @c4ttheart @blacky-rose @shizko @marsbars09 @happyplaidpersonfestival @catborglar @camilleverreault @nerdybouquetofkittens-blog @lovialy @heart4hees @stefnarda @ioonatv @vvicaddiction @yukihatesreoyo @yodayyy @ellzbellz18 @wscxbells

#zuko x reader #zuko x y/n #zuko x you #zuko #avatar the last airbender #atla #reader insert #canon au #the glass princess #m1ckeyb3rry writes

[alwaysalreadyangry]

a friend on twitter last night was talking about the dynamic of person who signs up for a matchmaker service / the person who works for the service matching them as a potential romantic pairing and i LOVE it. consider for joe/nicky:

Joe is a ROMANTIC who is disillusioned with dating apps so he’s like. what if this new matchmaker service can handle the admin for me and find me my soulmate

When he gets there for his in person registration appointment (of course) Andy is doing her girlfriend Quynh a favour and working the front desk, so she like takes his name and phone number and then she’s like. Okay I’m just going to send you to Nicky now, he’ll be perfect. She tells him to go to this… function room?

So he goes there and walks in and there’s a handsome-but-tired looking Italian man sitting at a table with his laptop and coffee and there’s a coffee machine in the room and lots of beautiful pot plants for the ATMOSPHERE and Joe is like. Wait is this someone who works here or is this my date.

Joe: Hiii I’m not sure if I’m supposed to continue my registration with you or if this is an immediate date?

Nicky: (internally flustered but with a good poker face) I’m sure you’ll be relieved to find out i just work here, please take a seat…

Joe: ha ha. yes. right. of course.

And then Nicky signs him up and asks him various soul-searching questions while staring into his soul and Joe is like. Well this is very intense. I’m not sure I am at all relieved that he only works here and that this isn’t a date. Usually after telling someone all these intimate details i at least have a shot at seeing them naked. And he’s trying really hard not to flirt because he’s like. This man is just at WORK this is just what he DOES.

Anyway then Nicky starts setting him up on dates and/or suggesting potential matches with Joe to see if he wants to meet someone. It turns out they live nearby so sometimes they even grab a coffee as a bit of a debrief, the whole agency is new and Nicky’s like “it’s really helpful to know what’s going right or wrong”

Joe is like. I want to help this nice man but also I’m not sure any of the dates he’s suggesting are going to work out for me…

Not sure quite how oblivious Nicky is. Like clearly he also falls for Joe in the initial interview but maybe he takes down Joe’s details and it’s just like. Well this man has described who he’s looking for and it’s nothing like me. Or maybe he’s just like, well I can’t do anything because that would be UNPROFESSIONAL.

At some point Joe quotes poetry and Nicky is like. Are you the most romantic person alive. Should we include you in our adverts.

Anyway idk how this resolves. Joe finally on a nice date with a match and he’s just like, I’m not into this. I want something else.

#I’m too tired to write #apologies i know this is generic I’m so sleepy #tog #old guard #i want some fluff. please.

[flamingbluepanda]

Hi hello the old guard have been playing DnD since it became a thing, they just think it's really fun, Andy ALWAYS names her characters Quynh or Lykon and no one can stop her, Booker has refused to play a bard so far but Joe is wearing him down, and Joe ALWAYS DMs. He's good at math, story telling, improv, AND accents. Nicky tries to kiss up to him on his characters behalf all the damn time, but in this and only this Joe is a stone cold fox who doesn't play favorities.

They've had one campaign going since the start, they've all had at least 6 characters, Andy's had nine, and Joe just keeps expanding the world. Quynh (who has been watching via Booker for 3 decades) is so excited to join the party. Nile makes her first druid a few weeks after Merrick's, and Booker is only allowed to call them for weekly sessions.

#the old guard #tog #dnd

[the73rdpostscript]

The Low of Your Life Will be Art Soon

Un-beta'd and unresearched.

(No. Seriously. I cannot emphasize enough how much I did not research the 1100s for this.)

Nicky sits at the table, staring blankly at the loaf of bread he meant to cut. Its a picturesque thing - a perfect shade of honey-brown with a sheen on top. They did well making it, but then again they've have years to get it right. And there are even more years ahead; more than he can comprehend at the ripe old age of 80.

He is not looking at the floor, keeping his eyes studiously trained on the bread and not the knife. Anyone walking in might think he doesnt know where the knife fell, but he does. It's all he can think about.

Nicky couldnt forget the knife anymore than he can forget the blood on the dirt or the way the little child had looked - pale and still.

Andromache had handled most of the social easing. She had spoken to the mother and offered comfort while Joe and Nicky had done the burying, and Quynh had asked the men of the village about housing.

So now they stay in this home - bartered for them and safe for the next season of labor.

They come and go from this place of safety while the child's body lays in the ground. And Nicky is here at the table, alive and unable to feed himself or his family because he cannot hold a knife.

They're on a self-imposed break from aiding armies. Andromache and Quynh spoke of building their trust and teamwork. But that is easier said than done now that chores have all been taken and evenly spread.

With four people and one home the work is lessened considerably. Before, Nicky could have spent the whole afternoon making enough bread for him and Joe to split, but instead they are already stocked for the next few days and he is here - staring at it instead of preparing it to be eaten. Which makes him both dangerous and useless.

"Nicky. Why is our knife on the floor?" Andys voice interrupts the wave of rising guilt and Nicky swallows.

"I'm punishing it." He tries, affecting humor where he feels none.

"What did it do?" Andy asks holding his gaze with her own and giving no quarter when he tries on a smile.

When he opens his mouth, no response comes out.

"Okay." She says, stepping forward and pulling him up gently by rhe arm.

"Andromache-"

"You're not doing yourself any good sitting here."

Leading him from the house, she shouts something unintelligible at Quynh where the other woman is sparring with Joe. Joe spares Nicky a questioning look, and Nicky tries to shrug but the gesture looks half insane as the yank of Andys hand throws his shoulders up without his permission. As they storm towards the village, Nicky sees Joe still watching him from the yard - clearly trying to talk to Quynh while he watches the two of them storm off.

"Andromache we have to eat soon," Nicky argues, walking along to keep up with her regardless of the protests hes making. He learned long ago that when Andy is moving you follow her and argue on the way.

"There will be food where we're going."

"Joe-"

"Is fine without you," She retorts, and the words shut him up immediately. She is right, after all.

So they march down the road for the mile or so it takes to get to town, where she directs him to a house hes never seen before.

A woman he recognizes answers the door and greets them both, welcoming them inside after Andy explains that they're here to help with the [bread making]

The woman - who kindly reminds Nicolo that her name is Anna - leads them inside and takes over where Andromache started, directing Nicky to sit in the open space on the floor. There, the two women on either side of him make tittering comments to themselves in the local dialect, too fast for him to catch. They show him what they're doing, and Anna occasionally calls out clearer instructions from somewhere else in the room.

It takes a full hour for him to feel comfortable with the motions, and another hour before they finish making enough. His arms feel well worked - the muscles unfamiliar with the small changes in an otherwise familiar pattern of motion.

Around him, the women talk and laugh. Every so often one of them will aks him a question, and they will all laugh or murmur at his awkward attempts to respond clearly. When the subject of his relationship status comes up, he thinks of sleeping beside Yusuf under the stars - traveling side by side. And he thinks of the disgust in Joe's eyes the first time they argued over the fire, the way his lip had curled at Nicky's defensiveness of his people - his fellow murderers.

He says none of this. He says he is still waiting for the right one, and the responding choke he hears from farther into the room alerts him to Andromache's presence. She's been settled into a chair by the window - working on something he cannot see with Anna. The look on her face is at once smug and indifferent - an expression Nicky has many times considered to be not dissimilar to how God might look at him if he could ever reach the afterlife.

The woman to his left - Elsa - pats his arm and finishes saying something about her very single daughter. Nicky feels himself struggling for an appropriate tone to respond with. But before he can try another woman in the group interrupts and he stays silent as the chaos rises and falls again like a wave - his own part in the process lost to the personal gripes of the community.

Its well past dark when they leave. Andy is quiet beside nicky in a way he has learned to interpret as content. It often baffles him, how easily she slips into comfort or ease - even in the midst of horrors or boredom. In some ways she reminds him of priests and Fathers. But then she speaks and he can't see any similarities at all.

"Thank you. For bringing me there."

"You're welcome."

They walk farther towards home before he asks "When did you set that up?"

"We always ask what may need to be done when we bargain."

And that stops him in his tracks.

Andy walks on a little farther, before pausing and turning to look back at him. One of her feet is still turned forward - pointing towards their temporary home.

"I have stopped asking," Nicky observes, feeling numb with the disgust for himself.

For the first few months that Andy and Quynh traveled with them, he asked incessantly about how he could help. It seems that somewhere in the past few weeks, he stopped.

Andy hasnt said anything since he stopped, so he clears his throat. "I've stopped asking how I can be helpful."

With a shrug, Andy says, "I hadn't noticed." And that revelation alone feels like a slap to the face.

He wants to argue - wants to ask how she didn't see his uselessness, his selfishness. But her face is serene in the moonlight, and it occurs to him that nothing he can say right now will matter much to her in the long run. These are only thoughts, only words and observations. Andromache values what she sees - what he does.

He can't say anything now to change his lack of action over the past few weeks. And even if he could it would only assuage his own guilt.

With a sigh, he begins walking again, and as she walks alongside him once more, he swallows the bitter taste in his mouth.

#yall shojld prove Rae wrong and totally ignore this #im kidding: yall know i lose my mind when you like what I do. #but also no pressure #do whatever gets you closer to Being happy #its a week #happy fucking pride to you all my beautiful tog people #mine #(this will probably become a larger fic later. but for now it is this and i love and accept for it itself)

[lady-of-the-spirit]

OC Masterlist

Mostly made to be helpful for those taking part in the OC Creator Bingo 2023 event, but if you’re one of my followers I hope you like this little guide to my OCs! These aren’t all of them, but these are the ones I talk about the most, and some I don’t talk about but would like to.

General OCs tag: my OCs

Creations and writing tags: I'm making stuff, I'm writing stuff

Cut off is here because this is a long post and nobody wants to scroll past it.

Joan

Full name: Ioana, goes by Joan (no surname)

Fandom: The Old Guard (2020)

Faceclaim: None yet, if you have any suggestions let me know!

Their main tags: Joan, Joan vibes

Fics/blurbs available: the Joan ‘verse (AO3), her post of origin, Nile dreams of her, home after a bad day, her relationship with the rest of the guard, Joan learns she’s immortal

Character bio/premise: Joan (then Ioana) died in an earthquake in the 1400s, in what would one day be Romania, and somehow did not stay dead. The Old Guard (then made up of Andy, Joe, Nicky and Quynh) were there in the aftermath, trying to help, and because Joan met them before they could dream of each other, she doesn’t know they’re immortal like her, and they don’t know she’s a new immortal. Some 400 years later, Joan stumbles upon a newly immortal Booker and despite befriending each other for a brief time, once again they part ways without realizing what the other is. 

After roughly 600 years of immortality, Joan is living a comfortable but lonely life, still unaware there are others like her. At least, until she dreams about Nile getting slashed through the throat. The dreams refuse to go away, and Joan manages to track down the young woman - and in the process, finds out not only is there another immortal like her, there’s a whole group of them, and all of them know each other. In an AU where Booker didn’t betray the team, most of her story is just her and the guard getting to know each other, trying to figure out how to make this new dynamic work, and Joan finding a place after centuries of not having anyone. Joan is aroace.

Hestia

Full name: Hestia

Fandom: Thor movies, MCU

Faceclaim: Freida Pinto

Their tags: Hestia, Hestia and Thor (for shipping purposes)

Fics/blurbs available: first post explaining her concept, Light, however sorry they are (AO3), I thought you were mine, Hestia and her relationship with the Odinson boys, “what if” episode au, Loki series meets What If AU Hestia, what Hestia thinks of the avengers, Hestia is kidnapped

Character bio/premise: Based on the goddess from Greek mythology, Hestia is the eldest daughter and princess of Olympus, another alien civilization like Asgard. The eldest daughter, but not the ruler, Hestia has taken care of the kingdom in her own way - tending to the fires and protecting the home and family - ever since they overthrew their tyrannical and abusive father centuries ago and created a kingdom of peace and prosperity - with the exception of their rivalry with Asgard. In an attempt to avoid war between their kingdoms, Odin and Zeus arrange a marriage between Thor and Hestia. While both of them range from reluctant but willing to outright reluctant, they are married and Hestia comes to live on Asgard. She is quiet and some would say "meek" or "weak", and no one expects her to get along with the brash and bold Prince Thor. Surprisingly, her calm demeanor and hidden strength makes it easy to form a friendship with him.

While dealing with culture clashes and coming to understand her new home and her new family, Hestia and Thor become friends, and then (slowly for Hestia, very quickly for Thor) fall in love. They remain happily married for centuries - up until the events of Thor 1 take place, followed by the rest of the MCU, making their lives a whole lot more complicated. Hestia is asexual biromantic.

Marianne

Full name: Marianne Ouellet (maiden name/preferred name), Marianne Schulman (legal name)

Fandom: X-Men prequels (First Class, Days of Future Past, Apocalypse) (Dark Phoenix does not exist on this blog)

Faceclaim: Clemence Poesy

Their tags: Marianne, Marianne Ouellet

Fics/blurbs available: Ethereal (AO3), a little fic about her and her husband, full character profile, text post edits, a little ‘cover’ I made for the fic

Character bio/premise: Born in 1931 in Montreal, moving to the States when she was 19, a single mother to a happy 12-year-old, widow of five years, and owner of a local used bookstore for 12 years, Marianne lives a hectic but normal life. She keeps her store running, her son safe and happy, and is happy to "mom friend" the kids around the neighbourhood. It's a normal existence - up until Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr basically break into her store, tell her they know she has telekinesis, and ask her to save the world with them and other mutants like her.

While she initially refuses their offer, she later changes her mind, needing to keep her son safe. When she joins the other mutants, she finds herself joining a community she didn't know she needed, becoming the unofficial Team Mom of the group, and facing emotional issues she had pushed down for years. Marianne is bisexual.

Kris

Full name: Kristina Maria Stark

Fandom: Iron Man movies, MCU (canon divergent after Avengers)

Faceclaim: Olivia Cooke (young Olivia Cooke - I've had her so long, I've seen her faceclaim age with her)

Their tags: Kris, Kris Stark, scarlet girlfriends (for shipping purposes)

Fics/blurbs available: an ask explaining her character, “You saved my life” wandaxkris fic, short krisxwanda fic, “what if” episode au, what Kris thinks of the avengers, Kris vs Alicent Hightower venn diagram

Character bio/premise: As the beloved daughter of Tony Stark and heiress to Stark Industries, Kris basically has everything she could ever want, and she loves it. Until she and her dad get kidnapped by terrorists and are trapped in a cave for three months. After returning home, forever changed by the experience, her dad wants to go out and make sure Stark Industry weapons are wiped from the planet, while Kris just wants to forget it ever happened and return to her normal life. It takes being terrorized by her honourary grandfather and her father creating a supersuit and becoming a public superhero to realize that their lives are never getting back to normal. It takes her father nearly dying less than a year later for Kris to take up the mantle as another superhero, pushing her life as far from normal as it gets. Kris is a lesbian.

Rose

Full name: Rose, codename Venom

Fandom: Power Rangers: Jungle Fury

Faceclaim: Brittany O’Grady

Their tags: Rose

Fics/blurbs available: a whole post I made about her premise, her choice of animal, her having a breakdown, what happens in Ghost of a Chance (AO3)

Character bio/premise: 10,000 years ago, Rose - abandoned as a child, then abused and tormented by her Pai Zhuq master - chooses to join the evil Dai Shi, wanting revenge on humanity for the pain she’s suffered. She’s made into a double agent, spying on the humans for Dai Shi. It goes well, until the war is won by the Pai Zhuq and Dai Shi is sealed away. To keep her safe, Dai Shi turns Rose to stone, and she waits for 10,000 years before he returns and tasks her with being a double agent once more, this time spying on the power rangers who threaten his attempts to take over the world.

It’s supposed to be an easy mission. She sews discord in the group, avoids getting too close, and reports back to her Lord with information to destroy the rangers. But slowly, the safety and kindness of her fake life starts to feel more welcoming than the cruelty she had accepted before, and Rose suddenly finds herself at a crossroads - to choose revenge and a life she’s been told is the only one she deserves, or her new friends and a life she thinks she actually deserves.

Ryoko

Full name: Ryoko

Fandom: Original content

Faceclaim: no official one yet, but either Li Bingbing or Fan Bingbing would be good, as both have roles with white hair (The Forbidden Kingdom and The White Haired Witch of Lunar Kingdom respectively)

Their tags: Ryoko, Ryoko and Ten, Ten and Ryoko (relationship tags)

Fics/blurbs available: human vs god appearance, commissioned art!, Forgotten, Never Stopped,  All Trussed Up, Traveling Companion, Ryoko and Ten being silly, Ryoko’s healing abilities, Ryoko’s immortality, kidnapped (humor), NFWMB, Ryoko needs to sleep, Ten is insecure and Ryoko’s a good friend

Character bio/premise: Ryoko was a human woman once - about 10,000 years ago. When she discovered how to achieve immortality, though, she chased after it and became the first god in her world - the god of war, fire, death and the sun. Many others followed in her footsteps, and for thousands of years, they all ruled the world as a pantheon, with her as their ruler, the Queen of the Heavens. Flashfoward to present day, millennia later, and she’s the only god left in the world after she killed the rest of them. She wanders the world, alone as she has been for centuries now. At least, until she meets Ten, who wants to be a god and knows she’s the only one who can help him achieve his goal. Although she knows it didn’t end well last time, she finally agrees to help Ten, thinking that by helping them, she’ll be able to find a way to end her own immortality. The two of them set out on an adventure and despite her best efforts, she becomes too close to Ten, despite knowing she’s using them for her own selfish purpose.

Ten

Full name: Ten (no last name as of yet)

Fandom: Original content

Faceclaim: None yet, if you have any suggestions let me know!

Their tags: Ten, Ryoko and Ten,Ten and Ryoko (relationship tags)

Fics/blurbs available: Traveling companion, premise, goals and some background of their world, Never Stopped,  All Trussed Up, grudges, piccrew appearance, Ten is a history nerd and Ryoko is unhelpful, Ryoko and Ten being silly, Ten is insecure and Ryoko’s a good friend

Character bio/premise: Uses he/they pronouns. Raised in a small farming town, and the eldest living child of five, Ten was always told by his parents - and everyone else outside of his siblings - he would never amount to anything, that he was a waste of space. Desperate to prove everyone wrong, they moved to the city to find work and support their family while also trying to find ways to achieve more, to learn and study their passion - history and legends of the world - and become more than what they are. Eventually, he crosses paths with The legendary icon of their world, the only living god - Ryoko, queen of the heavens. Knowing this is the only way they can prove everyone wrong, they convince her to show them how to achieve godhood, and to their surprise, she agrees. They set out on a grand journey together, and despite all the terrifying legends of her and her own personality, Ten finds himself growing closer to the woman, unaware of the secrets she’s hiding from him. Ten uses he/they pronouns.

Cara

Full name: Cara Anderson (chosen name), Carina Alvarez (legal name)

Fandom: MCU (canon divergent after Avengers)

Faceclaim: Odette Annable

Their tags: Cara, Cara Anderson, my sister’s ocs

Fics/blurbs available: None

Character bio/premise: Raised by HYDRA to be an assassin, Cara never knew anything but abuse and cruelty, except for the love of her twin, Quinn. That all ended when she realized just how fucked up HYDRA was and made plans to run away with Quinn. Those plans came to an end when SHIELD attacked their HYDRA facilities and Quinn died in the attack. Grieving, but ready to leave HYDRA behind, Cara agrees to join SHIELD (not knowing HYDRA and SHIELD are one and the same) and become an agent for them after being given a second chance by Clint Barton, as well as Natasha Romanoff, Nick Fury, and Maria Ross (who would eventually become her best friend). Years go by and she’s definitely one of their best agents, although she still has a lot of unprocessed trauma and anger. Things get a little better when she finds a family with the Avengers. Things get a lot better when she meets Sam Wilson, whose good heart and entire character is a bright spot in her stormy life. Cara is bisexual.

Valerie

Full name: Valerie Jenkins

Fandom: MCU (canon divergent after Avengers)

Faceclaim: Amanda Seyfried

Their tags: Valerie, my sister’s ocs

Fics/blurbs available: None

Character bio/premise: Valerie is just a kid when her parents die and she’s sent to live with her aunt. She’s still just a kid when her aunt is in a car accident and ends up in a coma and Valerie is sent to live in foster care, before running away and living on the streets. She’s still just a kid when she discovers she’s a mutant with the ability to control metal. For years she lives as a drifter, but eventually she’s able to get off the streets and make ends meet as a waitress in NYC - up until aliens attack. Using her powers to fight, she’s discovered by the Avengers and SHIELD and recruited, and ends up living in the Avengers tower with the rest of them. After years of not having anyone, she’s finally found herself a space space and a family - a family that gets even bigger when the Maximoff twins show up and she finds herself growing closer to Pietro.

#my ocs #i'm making stuff #i'm saying stuff #i'm writing stuff #joan #hestia #marianne #kris #rose #ryoko #ten #cara #valerie #kris stark #marianne ouellet #cara anderson #didn't realize how many ocs don't have last names until this lmao

[whimsicaldragonette]

ARC Review: A Fire Born of Exile by Aliette de Bodard

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Publication Date: October 12, 2023

Synopsos:

The Scattered Pearls Belt is a string of habitats under tight military rule . . . where the powerful have become all too comfortable in their positions, and their corruption. But change is coming, with the arrival of Quynh: the mysterious and enigmatic Alchemist of Streams and Hills. To Minh, daughter of the ruling prefect of the Belt , Quynh represents a chance for escape. To An, a destitute engineer, Quynh has a mysterious link to her own past . . . and holds a deeper, more sensual appeal. But Quynh has her own secret history, and a plan for the ruling class of the Belt. A plan that will tear open old wounds, shake the heavens, and may well consume her. A beautiful exploration of the power of love, of revenge, and of the wounds of the past, this fast-paced, heart-warming space opera is set against a backdrop of corruption, power and political scheming in the far reaches of the award-winning Xuya universe.

My Rating: ★★★★★

*My Review after the cut.

My Review:

I have enjoyed everything I have read by Aliette de Bodard, but this is my favorite thus far. Something about the characters grabbed me immediately and held my interest for the entire book. They felt incredibly real and believable and I cared deeply about all of them.

Her writing style is very dense, so her books take me longer to read than most others, but I always enjoy the journey. Sometimes it's nice to be forced to slow down and linger over a story rather than speed through it.

The characters and their motivations are complicated. Revenge and fear and hate and greed and love and justice. They're all very powerful emotions and the book itself feels very powerful. It's a grand struggle and epic battles that play out in subtle manipulations and power plays and scholars crafting the perfect response alluding to classic texts.

I love how expansive and complicated this universe is, with the mindships and bots and the avatars and overlays and perception filters, as well as the Vietnamese names and culture that feels deep and consistent. It feels so vast and so physical, and even though I know it's not real, it feels like it is.

I have read a good handful of Xuya universe novels and novellas now so I feel like I have a pretty good handle on the world, where I was confused occasionally even in the previous novel. It's more sci-fi than I normally read, and I love it. It has such a lovely texture.

I also love how queer relationships are treated as normal and unremarkable, and how many examples of them we have in this book (and her others). There is at least one nonbinary character and it is completely normal. The main relationships are all pairs of women. It's so refreshing and validating.

I have not had such a deeply enjoyable and satisfying reading experience in a while and it felt so good. Wading through the dense language that Aliette de Bodard uses felt rewarding and I was swept away by the strong emotions and convictions of the characters. I am sad to leave this world and eagerly await the next Xuya universe novel.

(It should be noted that I am in the process of moving so the only time I have had to read in the past few weeks is when I wake up in the middle of the night and can't sleep. So I read most of this between the hours of 3 and 6am. And I still adored it and happily spent days wading through its complexity. That's how good it is.)

*Thanks to NetGalley and JAB Books for providing an early copy for review.

#queer romance #queer books #aliette de bodard #a fire born of exile #xuya universe #best books of 2023 #netgalley #arc review #shilo reads #queer characters #sci-fi