#it's probably because he grew up in the harsh environment of the sea

[merakiui]

some thoughts about jade leech as a stalker.

(cw: yandere, nsfw, stalking, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, obsession, mentions of death/strangulation)

Jade does not love often. In fact, he has a rather small supply of love, which is reserved for his hobbies and family, so when he loves something other than those two things it can only mean trouble. When Floyd has something special and doesn’t share... Well, naturally Jade’s going to want it. He’s never been inherently greedy. Rather, he’s always let Floyd have everything: the larger half of a bluefin tuna, the shinier stone, the bigger seashells, the slice of cake with more frosting, his uniforms whenever Floyd’s were dirtied or damaged. And in return Floyd has, for the most part, shared his things with Jade. This has always been their normal. 

But this time Floyd makes no mention of sharing when it comes to you. In the past, when they were particularly interested in someone, they would share them. Or, in other words, torment that person in equal succession. Azul has been their prime target for years now, and it doesn’t look like either of them will stop their relentless pursuit in seeing how fast they can get Azul to grouse or groan or sigh. You might think they live to see Azul’s misery, but truthfully they want to accompany Azul as he carves misery into the hearts of the poor, unfortunate souls who thought it wise to do business with deep-sea beasts. Teasing him is just a bonus. 

When it comes to you, Floyd is his usual authentic self: blunt and honest to a fault, dangerously so. But that’s what makes his twin so fun. Floyd won’t sugarcoat the obvious. If he dislikes you, he’ll make it known. Jade, on the other hand, will speak syrupy sweet lies in an effort to maintain proper goodwill, even if he detests you. You’ve never really interested Jade, so he can’t say he hates you. But he can’t say he loves you either. To him, you are just a powerless human in a habitat that does not suit you. Really, even with all of the tricks and traps you pulled to beat Azul at his own game, you remained boring to him. He didn’t pay you much mind after everything had been resolved and you’d been free to return to Ramshackle. That should have been the end of his story with you. 

But then, some time later, you start to make frequent appearances at the lounge. It doesn’t take Jade long to learn that you only show up when Floyd’s on shift, and it also doesn’t take him long to theorize that you might have fallen for his brother’s unique charms. It’s sweet, in a way, how Floyd lights up when he sees you, how you smile a little more brightly when he speaks to you, how your laughter is so very buoyant when Floyd lifts you into the air and spins you happily. Jade’s content to watch from the sidelines, pleased to know that his brother has found a friend in you. That might make it easier to trick you into a contract.

He’s so set in this way of thinking, only viewing you as a pawn or a stepping stone towards some bigger end goal. But when Floyd brings you back to the dorm and you become more than a constant in Jade’s life, he starts to wonder what makes you so special. What is it about you that has his brother so enamored? What makes you irresistible? What parts of you are appealing? Jade thinks it might be how quick it is you submit when Floyd’s got you pinned into the mattress, face first, rough hands spreading your thighs apart, so he can sink into you more easily. Floyd likes that; he likes the weak things that crumble under him. He likes to push things to breaking. He likes to mark and bite and bloody and bruise and shred.

Jade likes to fix. He likes to mend, and then break, and then mend all over again. He likes the process, the psychological science behind a simple gesture, much like how he takes great pleasure in playing god over the plants in his terrariums. They say a budding serial killer starts small—with animals like rabbits or squirrels or cats. Jade starts with plants. He’ll put them in stressful environments—in soils with nutrients that don’t quite work—and he’ll watch them wilt, mottle, mold, and decay. He’ll watch them struggle to adapt, he’ll watch them yearn for water or sunlight, and only when he’s certain they’ve had enough he’ll give them proper, healthy care. It’s fun, the way he has so much control over something as dynamic as a plant. But plants cannot protest, cannot fight back, cannot act in the same way humans do. 

But it’s quite satisfying to pluck dried petals from a withered flower, almost like a morbid game of effeuiller la marguerite, and not hear a single scream.

So Jade is fully expecting Floyd to tire of you, to break you enough until boredom sinks its fangs into him and he moves on with his life. And what Floyd breaks Jade fixes, so he’s very ready to glue your heart together when Floyd shatters it. He’s ready to offer a handkerchief and his ear should you need to vent. He’s already prepared his speech: “I must apologize on behalf of Floyd. You know very well how he gets. If I can be of assistance in any way, please let me know.”

Unfortunately, you remain intact. Months pass, Floyd continues to love you, and your relationship unfolds like a lotus in early morning. Jade continues to observe. Floyd has never been one for privacy, so he’s seen every kiss, every bite, every inch of exposed skin. Hell, he’s sat at his desk and tallied Mostro Lounge’s monthly expenses while Floyd fucked you dumb on the other side of the room. He’s even made eye contact with you when you happened to gaze his way while his twin was buried balls-deep in that tight hole of yours. He wonders what goes on in that head of yours. Perhaps there’s nothing substantial within. Floyd’s scrambled your brains enough, so you could just be useless now. Though that wouldn’t be very fun, would it? He knows there’s more to you than you let on, especially when you play top and take every inch of Floyd, riding him so skillfully, and all Floyd can do is dig his fingers into your hips to guide you along to the rough, erratic pace the both of you have set. 

Jade watches fondly from the shadows. Floyd likes to have access to your neck and shoulders; he likes to take you from behind while leaning down to bite into soft flesh. But Jade thinks it would be much nicer to gaze upon your face, to kiss salt from your eyes, to pepper your jawline with tiny pecks, all while peering into eyes that house a beautiful soul. He thinks it would be nice to hold you down, have your legs wrapped around his waist or thrown up onto his shoulders, while he bottoms out. If it were Jade, he’d take you in every position, but he’d find the most pleasure in eye contact. There’s something intimate about it, much like how there’s intimacy in the hands that wrap around a throat. You have to be close to someone when you’re restricting their airflow; you have to squeeze until veins pop, until your hands are sore, until your fingernails have burrowed so deeply into skin that the crescent moons color crimson. It takes minutes to strangle someone, and every minute is spent staring into the wide, terrified eyes of a desperate soul on the verge of death.

Jade likes the way you smell, the way you speak, the way you laugh, the way you are, in every meaning of the word, so very filled with life. Even down to the way you breathe and gasp and moan and cry, you are life itself. Jade wants to bottle that for himself—pluck you from Floyd’s flower pot and place you in a terrarium with the most potent elements just to see how long you’d fare. He wants to save you from those same conditions, sandwich your face between gloved hands when he’s kneeled to your lowered height, and whisper about how it’s okay, about how you’re safe, about how he’d never truly hurt you. Jade knows that loving someone is a very special thing, but the way he loves you is not quite pleasant. The love he has for his hobbies and family is natural. Normal. Simplistic and familial. 

The love he has for you is murderous and frightening. Some days he looks at you like you’re prey he’s not yet devoured. Like you’re to be his first victim. 

Jade starts small. He takes tiny trinkets—a keychain, a pencil, an accessory. He stores these in a shoe box under his bed. When Floyd brings you over and clothes are cast aside, he swipes your undergarments for himself. He won’t wash them until he absolutely must. He’ll have the soft fabric wrapped around his dick later that same evening when Floyd’s fallen asleep and he’s up late contemplating love and lust and life and death, and he’ll cum to the thought of you. Sweet, adorable, oblivious you. 

He’s what one would call a persistence predator—a hunter who gradually wears his prey down over time. He takes from you, watches you, listens to you fret about missing things to Floyd, who promises to find the bastard who’s messing with you and squeeze them until they’re blue and purple. Jade smiles at that. Floyd wouldn’t really do that to him. Sure, they’ve hit each other when they’ve fought and roughhoused on occasion, but the punches were never truly meant. Sure, they might have been thrown playfully or angrily, but they were all temporary bouts of strength. Floyd wouldn’t truly hurt him, so to hear these determined promises and to see how you relax around him... It’s really cute. Jade wonders how much more he can take from you. 

And he wonders how much more you can take before you’re splintering. 

Really, you got lucky that Floyd picked you first. He’s far more merciful. Far more sweeter. Far more loving. At least Floyd is honest with his (at times) rough nature. At least he makes it known that he wants to bite you until you’re bleeding. But Floyd can’t stand whining. He hates it when people cry about things he can’t bother to care about, and lately you’ve been whining about this stalker you think you have for weeks now. Floyd’s told you you’re just being a scared shrimpy—that there is no stalker, that you’re probably just misplacing or losing these items, that none of them really matter because they’re replaceable. 

Jade gets lucky when Floyd finally washes his hands of you, officially fed up with your whining. And what Floyd damages Jade fixes. So when you’re in tears, distraught over the break-up and your missing items and your stalker and the fact that the door to Ramshackle was left unlocked again and that you feel like someone’s living in your shadow, Jade arrives to rescue you from your fear. You don’t even hesitate to cling to him and cry, spilling your worries in waterfalls. Perhaps it’s because he’s a familiar face. He is a reflection of Floyd, after all. 

“Oh dear,” he’ll whisper, stroking your back, allowing you to bury your face in his chest and sob. “There, there.”

You can’t see his expression, but there is a smile spreading on his lips. And his eyes are alight with cruel glee. 

“Would it make you feel better if someone accompanied you to your classes?” Your feeble nod is all he needs. “In that case, shall I spend a few days at Ramshackle with you? I’m certain whoever’s pursuing you won’t get very far if I’m around.”

And he’s right. Your stalker never takes anything again. They never leave the front door unlocked. They never trail behind you, taking shelter in your shadow. That’s because he’s your stalker, though you never managed to figure that out, and this time he doesn’t have to dwell in shadows or on the sidelines. This time he can stand before you as a friend, a soon-to-be lover, and perhaps a lifelong mate. 

Jade does not love often, but when he does it is as beautifully painful as tearing the wings from butterflies. 

#meraki mumbles #yandere twst #n/sfw #i think my favorite thing about writing yandere jade is how brutal and remorseless he can be #it's probably because he grew up in the harsh environment of the sea #which would naturally harden anyone and make them more predatory than a prey #it's probably also why he (and floyd and azul) see nothing wrong with murder #yes it's morally wrong and very much illegal #but in the ocean it's eat or be eaten and really do you think jade is going to let some other predator snap his darling up? :) #challenge: write one yan jade thought without it spiraling into a thought about his murderous rizz #challenge failed </3 he is a walking danger you cannot tell me he wouldn't think of the most horrifying things when it comes to darling #more jade thoughts!!! consider an artist (painter/sculpter/etc) jade who is absolutely obsessed with you (the nude model from his art class) #because you're the one who has finally inspired him and broken his months-long artist's block #and also because he'd like to paint you in the most vicious red #or jade who has broken into your home and is living there in secret without you knowing #sometimes he sleeps under your bed just to hear your steady breaths #he never rearranges anything in your house but he does do the dishes or clean up messes you've made #you can never remember if or when you cleaned these things but you never think much of it #jade stands at your bedside when you sleep at night and he watches you #you'll happen to wake and you'll spot him but by the time you've scrambled to wake up and turn the lights on he'll already be gone #so you're left to wonder if he was ever there in the first place or if you were still dreaming #he is the terror that you will never see until it's too late

[in-tua-deep]

Oooooo the red bock au sounds so interesting! Does Five caught himself thinking of his brothers just as numbers and weapons like Reginald talks in his book? Does he read Vanya book to remind himself that they are still human even though he reads it through lens of someone hurt by them all? And I feel like the handler would know either way about the books but o it's so much fun to see five being paranoid

I think having both books and both perspectives reminds Five that... he’s getting some very biased accounts of his own siblings. I think that when he’s still young, he writes down as many memories as he can remember because... he starts to forget, at some point. 

Vanya’s book talks about how volatile Diego and Luther’s relationship is, and so Five writes down the time Luther and Diego teamed up to toss Five off a balcony when Five kept switching the pens in their hands with pipe cleaners during a lesson (and he will maintain until his dying day that he was just practicing his control, c’mon guys!)

when Reginald’s notes call Allison an “insufferable, narcissistic creature,” Five remembers Allison bribing him to cause trouble and distract Reginald so that she could use the microwave unobserved to heat up some water bottles as makeshift heat packs for Luther’s sore muscles

when Vanya calls Ben “easily manipulated,” Five recalls Ben arguing theories with him at 2am after one of Ben’s training sessions where Ben almost flipped his bed when Five jokingly suggested that he could use the horror’s tentacles to bounce up and down like a pogo stick before Ben tackled him and tried to beat Five to death with an encyclopedia of sea creatures (affectionately)

I think having Reginald’s journal actually helps in a lot of ways, because Five automatically autocorrects literally all of Reginald’s thoughts to be like, mostly inaccurate and much harsher than they need to be. So when he reads Vanya’s journal he also autocorrects and is able to recognize that it is a very biased and somewhat harsh view of his siblings

(he doesn’t distrust them as much as he does in canon, with only Vanya’s harsh words to cling to with no reminder that they were all raised by a man capable of unfathomable cruelty, no reminder that authors can be oh so biased)

outside of his equations, there’s notes to himself written in the margins of Vanya’s book. Sometimes they’re just small, pointing out that Klaus had fought to include Vanya in trap week (Klaus then proceeded to team up with her and managed to catch Five in a snare - he actually still has a scar around his ankle from his upsidedown thrashing before he managed to steal one of Diego’s knives to cut himself down) or pointing out that Luther’s chilly attitude when they were ten was probably the result of Vanya outperforming him in every standardized test they took because of Luther’s ridiculous inferiority-superiority complex

at the very least he has comparison, because Reginald’s book calls Klaus an absolute failure while Vanya’s book called him “sweet, as a child at least”

As for the Handler... she’s aware that he has Vanya’s book and a red notebook, but I don’t think she actually knows what’s in the red notebook! Reginald was notoriously secretive, after all

So the Handler assumes that the red notebook is where Five keeps his time travel equations because aw, he hasn’t given up! how cute!

She makes an assumption that, logically, makes sense. Of course Five is still trying to figure out time travel, no matter how much he denies it! Of course he’s writing the equations down! What a silly boy, thinking that he could hide this from her, of course she knows about his little plans to save his siblings ;3c

And because she’s so powerful and knowledgeable and one step ahead all the time, she makes an assumption and assumes that it is fact. Because she’s so smart, of course she isn’t wrong! She’s had Five clocked from day one!

(The Handler thinks she has Five all figured out, a creature so based in sentiment. Why would he carry a book around that details the torture his siblings went through? He hates his father, why would he ever carry around his father’s notebook! The Handler has a fatal flaw, and it is that she doesn’t understand loyalty and sneers at sentiment and those are two of Five’s most powerful driving factors. Five lives for his siblings and would die for his siblings, almost his entire life has been dedicated to saving them. Not the world, just his family.) 

(She understands that Five considers his family to be exceptionally valuable, but doesn’t comprehend that Five is 100% willing to die for them should it come down to it. Why on earth would anyone value something like siblings over their own life? Absurd. I genuinely believe that the Handler thinks she could get Five to betray his siblings with the right leverage, and so she fundamentally does not understand Five as a person)

To be fair to the Handler, the whole academy’s morals and just. completely and utterly fucked. Luther condemns the murder of innocent civilians even if it would save the planet but doesn’t blink an eye at killing the ‘bad guy’ Commission agents. Diego stabs criminals as a pastime while still holding himself at a moral high ground for saving people, despite the fact that too many criminals are forced into crime by unfair circumstances. Allison used her powers to bolster her career without even blinking but now refuses to use her powers at all because of the manipulation of one (1) child, not even against ‘bad guys.’ 

I mean. Vanya wrote an entire salt book without consulting her siblings that had lasting impacts on at least one of her sibling’s career in the public eye and potentially impacting her siblings relationships with everyone who had every read the spark notes on her book, without the opportunity for reprisal. Publishing your entire family’s dirty laundry as personal emotional catharsis is... kind of a dick mood, lets be real. Especially when you were all abused children raised in an environment of excessive violence and rigid structure. 

Like yeah, of course Allison is good at manipulation and lying - she grew up with an abusive and over-controlling father. She probably lied as easily as breathing about where she’d been, who she was with, what she was doing, etc. The only privacy they got in that household was what they seized with their own hands and carved out for themselves! Is it fair to say that Allison’s superpower is dishonestly?

Is it fair to say that Klaus got crueler as he grew? He was tortured and turned to drugs as an unhealthy coping mechanism, and then he sat down at a table and looked at all the other little kiddies who did not get locked into a crypt overnight. In fact, there was one child who never got any extra training at all! Can you imagine the jealousy? The bitterness? Klaus might have been exceptionally cruel to Vanya as a teenager, she had everything he wanted and dared to complain about it. Can you imagine listening to someone wistfully wish they could join in on missions when you know that the cost for doing so has been carved out of your soul?

My point is, none of these little bitches have anything that resembles a sane moral compass. They’re unpredictable as fuck! It’s like herding cats! You never know what they’re going to do next! Oh? Are they going to investigate in any logical pattern? No, because Diego just remembered Patch exists and helping her print flyers for the annual police ball is more important than saving the world or whatever lol

Luther is over there investigating the moon! The moon! Meanwhile Allison is breaking and entering her sister’s student’s house because she got shady vibes off of him one time and she has never heard of a proportionate action in her life. 

Meanwhile Vanya is going through the phone book trying to call up psychiatrists who have any familiarity with whatever fucked up meds Dad put her on because like, she would like to Not Be On Them (fuck you dad) but also understands that danger of quitting cold turkey something you have been taking for years and would like a professional opinion on how to safely decrease and eventually eliminate her usage, thanks (Klaus is hanging over her shoulder pointing out the ones who will sell you non-prescription drugs for a price and Vanya mentally crosses those ones off of her list to call)

Five is probably joining on the breaking and entering because Allison promised she would sweet talk to eye dude if he did her this solid 

(Five complains at length about how investigating the apocalypse should not be a solid because she would 100% die as well if the apocalypse came to pass)

#the red book au #plus like. some thoughts and opinions lmao #look Vanya's book was healing and cathartic for her #does that mean it should have been published? #FUCK NO #it's biased as all fuck for starters and could genuinely impact her siblings jobs and relationships #anyway the hargreeves are all cats #they do their own thing regardless of what they should be doing #their orders of priorities are fucked tbh #what do you mean vanya's job isn't equally as important as saving the world? #she has to pay rent somehow five !! #klaus is down to go threaten a seedy dude but can they investigate dad's will after pretty please? #maybe there's a clue! or numbers about inheritance! #if dad disowned them then diego is forging the will tbh #not because he wants the bastard's money but it's the PRINCIPLE of the thing #Anonymous #long post #far tua long

[tonguetwster]

Don't mind me finding new twst writing blog with big potential~

If it's okay, I'd like to leave a request!

Tempered! Reader x Dorm leaders.

Lemme explain!

It's a beautiful *dreadfully cold day* everyone are staying inside, no crazy man goes outside. It's the coldest Night raven college has ever felt. And there goes reader in light 'autumn' clothes. Laughing, rolling in snow like a mad man and genially just having fun!

After that accident reader explains that they came from a really cold (or a really cold part of it). So since they were a kid They trained themselves to be more acceptable towards the cold.

(hope I'm specific enough. Hope it's okay!)

tysm for the ask and yes, this request is absolutely perfect!

Riddle is understandably surprised and concerned for your wellbeing and puts a bright scarlet heavy coat in a rush, then bolts for you. 

You see him and gush over how cute he looks in the coat because it looks like it’s swallowing up. It looks so big on his small body.

He gets embarrassed, his face turning to the same shade as his coat. 

Once he snaps out of it, he scolds you lightly for worrying him and then embarrassing him like that

You explain to him that you grew up in a cold environment and he calms down, but is still embarrassed about your gushing. 

Contrary to what one might expect, Leona actually doesn’t mind the cold. He stated in one of his voicelines that he actually hates warmth despite growing up in a warmer country like Afterglow Savanna. 

So when he sees you playing in the snow, he doesn’t care much for it and goes back to sleep. Unfortunately, your fun ended up being too loud and it disturbed him. 

His ears twitched and his eyes opened, eyebrows furrowing in frustration. He gets up and approached you, using his magic to put on appropriate clothing for the weather. 

He pulls you to his room and uses you as a pillow as revenge for disturbing his sleep. You’re not leaving for the next 8 hours. Good luck. 

Realistically speaking, I figure Leona would’ve put two and two together that you grew up in a colder climate so he wouldn’t need to ask a question if he knows the answer to it already. 

Azul is an octomer and has lived in the Coral Sea for most his life, meaning that he can withstand colder temperatures. 

When he sees you, he likely also deduces that you grew up in somewhere with a colder temperature as well like him. 

While he’s not really interested in playing in the snow, he just invites you to go on some errands with him. 

He promises to give you something nice for your help. 

After that, he treats you to a nice dinner in Mostro Lounge. 

Kalim is SUFFERING. Poor baby is all cold and shivering when he’s not in Scarabia. Jamil has to take extra care of him so that he doesn’t catch a cold. 

Much to Jamil’s dismay, he sees that you’re playing in the snow and immediately wanted to join. 

He runs after you and tries to join in. You two ended up having a fun bonding moment for a while. 

But then Kalim got sick like right after. Jamil had to nurse him back to health, scolding him for just joining you in the middle of the harsh snow. You’re helping him out since you feel bad for the poor thing. 

Kalim asks how you’re not sick and you explain. He’s pretty amazed by your ability to survive in the cold like that. 

Vil lived in Pyroxene where it’s pretty fucking cold so he’s likely also used to it. I’m guessing he could be working out, likely with Jack since they tend to work out together in the morning. 

He spots you playing in the snow and was admittedly worried at first, but he sees that you seem so happy and figured that you were similar to him and Jack. 

Seeing you play like that reminded him of when he and Jack were children and played in the snow when Vil had free time from his extremely busy schedule

While he figured that he’s too old to be playing out in the snow, he offers you to run with him and Jack. 

If you accept, you three get to have a good time together and having conversations about your experiences back in your hometowns. 

Idia probably build a pretty good heater for himself indoors so he’s generally fine. Though, I’m not sure if he needs it. Assuming the Isle of Lamentation is either the Underworld or Greece, the climate might be different from what I’m thinking. 

Ortho pleaded with him to play in the snow with him so he reluctantly agreed to it. 

When the two brothers went out, they spotted you having fun on your own. Ortho decided to invite you to join them. 

Idia is suffering and just wants to go home but he knows Ortho would be sad so he’s just trying to bear with it as much as he can. 

You at least make it a little more bearable for him by having a conversation about him about his interests.

Malleus is a dragon fae and lives in the chilly dorms of Diasomnia so I’m assuming that he’s likely used to the cold as well. When he sees you playing in the snow, he’s quite amused by your behavior. It’s just so innocent and carefree. 

He’s often alone so he can’t help but want to join in. Despite his extended life, he’s never actually played in the snow with someone, constantly having the weight of his duties on his shoulders. 

Lilia suggested that he play with you since you were also all alone. Everyone else was indoors, so all that’s left was you. 

Malleus took this advice and approached you, asking how you seem to be so unfazed by the chilly temperature. His face was curious yet amused. 

You explain to him that you grew up in a colder place and invite him to play, making him quite a happy dragon. The two of you end up having a good time. 

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #Anonymous

[chaoticevilbean]

Flames of the Moon

Chapter One : Storms and Spirits

The South Pole has always been dangerous. Between wild animals, polar nights, and the constant ice and snow and freezing weather, life has always been rather difficult. The Tribe that lived there often found themselves struggling to get by. When there were many waterbenders, the Tribe thrived. They could use their environment to their advantage. Life was far easier, or as easy as it could be in the South Pole.

When the raiding began, life once again became a struggle every year.

By the time Sokka and Katara were born, there were no more waterbenders. When Katara showed the first of her bending abilities, the village was both thrilled and terrified. Their burdens might be lightened with Katara's powers, but there was already a chance that they would be raided. Her abilities would only draw more attention if they weren't careful enough.

One of their worst years was when Sokka was six and Katara was five. The midnight sun went well, but they weren't nearly as prepared for the polar night as they should've been. Low on supplies from the start, the men were constantly out on hunting and gathering trips, trying to stock up on food and fuel. Within two months, the tribe was in only a few of their tents, the fires constantly going to fight off the cold. Fuel was being used too fast to help and food wasn't going to last much longer.

Near the end of that second month, a blizzard hit their village. The men were out hunting, and the elders, women and children could only hope they would return safely. They all crowded into one tent, though it wasn't nearly as much struggle as it would've been many years ago. The wind and snow was barely kept out, and they all knew the supplies wouldn't last through the storm. When there was barely two hours worth of fuel left, Gran-Gran suggested they pray to the Spirits. Every elder, woman and child bowed and closed their eyes and did just that. They asked for the blizzard to end. For the temperature to rise. For the fuel to last longer, for the men to get back sooner, for so many things.

But Sokka didn't ask for any of the things that the others did. He had always been of a practical mindset. He knew that changing the temperature or getting rid of such a big storm might cause some change in the world's balance. The fuel would logically not last long enough even if it was stretched as far as possible, and there was no way that the men would make it safely through such a blizzard. Someone would get hurt or lost or something. So Sokka asked for what the Spirits could do. He asked for the Spirits to give him the strength to save his tribe, or to give someone else the strength, or all of them, or none of them. Whatever they could do to make sure that every villager survived this disaster.

The Spirits heard him. Their attention was caught by this little mortal boy who didn't ask any more of them than they were willing and able to give. But more important than what he asked for was who he asked. Which is to say, he asked all of them. While his fellow mortals mostly called upon Tui and La and other snow spirits, he simply asked the Spirits in general to help.

So help him they did. Most did not give much, but they did give. Koh gave Sokka immunity to his powers of face-stealing. Wan Shi Tong gave him a compass that always lead him to the Library should the mortal ever enter the Si Wong Desert.

The more powerful Spirits gave Sokka more powerful gifts. In particular, Agni, La and Tui gave him some of the greatest things they could've.

Agni bestowed upon him the gift of firebending, and since it was coming directly from the source of all firebending, the fire burned brighter and hotter than any others' inner flame.

Tui knew that Sokka would not survive as a firebender in the South Pole, given that the polar night gave no contact to the Sun. Therefore, she gave Sokka the ability to also draw power from her. He would not die on her watch.

La gave Sokka protection from his treacherous waters, and by extension, from the piercing cold of the pole. Snow and ice would not touch him like it did the others. His fire would not flicker because of the harsh winds that constantly seemed to be blowing.

All of these gifts together were mighty indeed. And so many were there that despite the speediness of Spirits with a quick purpose, he sat bowed and unseeing for many minutes after the others had opened their eyes. Katara was the one to point out Sokka's unchanging position. A half of an hour passed before he so much as twitched, and by then, the entire tent was trying to focus on him instead of the cold and despair that ate away at them. The elders found this easier, for if one so young and energetic was so still for so long, surely he was experiencing something they weren't.

Sokka's eyes opened slowly, as if he was waking up from a trance. Then, as though some other force was guiding his limbs, and it probably was, the toddler's hands cupped in front of him. A single deep breath in and out, and the first of his flames appeared.

None dared move. There was no way the boy was born a firebender, for the pregnancy had been far enough between raids to be certain, and the boy had never shown any flames before. The heat from the fire in his hands was real, the blue flames steady and controlled. Those closest to him, his mother and sister, another mother and her child, and Kanna, all felt the heat radiate from his body, strong and comforting. Kanna was the first to speak.

"It seems the Spirits have answered one of us and bestowed a great gift." The soft words were barely audible over the raging blizzard, but still heard by all.

"Gifts, Gran-Gran," Sokka whispered, confused but pleased at what had happened.

"What?"

"They gave me more than one."

That moment was etched into everyone's minds who were present for the rest of their lives. The fire was no longer needed because one of their children was of the Sun. None of the hunters were told when they finally returned, for the raids still occurred and Sokka was young and blessed, but anger and hatred is blinding. The elders taught Sokka all they could when they could, without arousing suspicion from their fellow tribe members. Sokka watched the benders that came to raid, hiding behind ice piles his sister made to memorize the forms. He found himself using a more smooth version of their movements, more fluid like water or air. It made it easier to use fire on the ice, though Sokka still practiced the 'true' forms.

He almost stopped bending when Kya died. Fire had been her death and it had brought so much harm. But Kanna told him not to. The Spirits gave him fire because the flames were life. He knew this. Fire kept them alive on the ice, bringing heat and light. So Sokka kept going.

He found that the flames were different colors, and he found their meanings. Red, yellow, and orange were meant for small things. Common things. They were fueled by anger, fear, and worry. Though Sokka instead called it all necessity. The need for light, or for protection from injustice. Green was fueled by wonder and mysticism and joy. The green flames came when Sokka was staring at a polar bear pup or at the biannual sunset. They didn't burn, but tickled and danced. They spread fast, but disappeared as the wonder wore off. Where they touched, plants grew better, and Sokka felt happier and full of energy. Blue flames were hot. Hotter than necessity. They were a greater form of necessity, but also controlled. They were protection and light and heat on a grander scale, and they never strayed from where they were told to go. Purple was healing. It closed wounds easily, though the experience could be rather unpleasant or painful. Pinks and indigos were much like the blues of green fire. The same but stronger. They were harder to maintain, but they made the bushes bear fruit in under five minutes.

White fire was the strangest. It was cold. When Sokka first made it, he was curious. He was looking at the different colors and the white came suddenly, naturally. When held against the puddle of water he had melted, it refroze it like Katara sometimes did with her bending. Not as fast and not as strong, but like an ice pack.

When Sokka's dad left, he was the only man. He had to be a man now, because he was Acting Chief. He quickly realized that every resource had to be utilized. So he moved as fast as green fire. He taught the women the basics of fighting that he remembered and how to gather and hunt. He used his fire to keep the pits going, and held the kids close on especially cold nights were his body heat was almost tangible. He had the kids play games to build strength and balance and agility and all the other qualities they needed without losing their attention. He had Katara build up their walls and structures with her bending. He did all he could, learning the ways of the home that usually were only taught to females, and had the boys below him start learning alongside their female companions.

When him and Katara got caught on a current while fishing, he wasn't worried about himself. His panic had turned off the logic that said he couldn't die in the Sea thanks to La, but he was more worried about what would happen to his tribe. His people. When Katara cracked that iceberg open like a nut (thanks to Sokka refusing to use his firebending to melt the floes and save their canoe, which, hey, he was panicking and he had hid it from a lot of the tribe for years, it's instinct), Sokka didn't see the Avatar and bison. He saw more mouths to feed, and one was a growing boy and the other a giant animal. He could barely keep people fed well as everything was.

So, yeah, he was more prickly than he should've been, and definitely didn't take the best approach, but logic and a filter do not come together.

"What was that?" he shouted as his sister and the newcomer, Aang, a flipping airbender and probable Avatar, ran into the village at top speed. "Did you set off a flare?" His sister fired off some excuse about proving the war and an accident and Aang said there was a trap, but the teenage Chief was more focused on the black snow that was falling. He turned sharply, effectively cutting off the two troublemakers, firing off orders like an archer fires arrows. The villagers gathered in the center, Aang hiding in one of the tents. The children remained behind a solid line of women, while Sokka stood in the front, war paint on and spear at the ready.

Metal ship met ice wall, breaking the barrier with little difficulty. It wasn't meant to keep out warships though. A gangplank slid out, and several soldiers followed a young looking captain with an awful haircut down the steel. Sokka moved forward into a defensive stance, prepared to charge. When the captain reached the snow, he stopped.

"Where is the Avatar? We know he's here!" Sokka's mind worked overdrive, adrenaline pumping. Aang was likely the Avatar, having been frozen for a hundred years and therefore presumed dead. Aang may be another mouth to feed, but he was also twelve and kind and made sure to help fix whatever he broke. This captain referred to all of the soldiers. We, not I. That suggested he saw them as a group, an unusual trait among the Fire Nation. Sokka came to the conclusions quicker than wind, and charged before the man had finished his last sentence.

The captain attempted to disarm and kick Sokka away, but he ducked, grabbed his spear back and swept the leg in a single consecutive moment. The captain was caught by his soldiers, the unhindered ones moving forward to fight. Sokka relaxed his stance just enough to show he wasn't going to attack further, before leaning in ever so slightly to speak.

"We don't have much left. Your people have taken lives and supplies alike. Even if we have the Avatar, they would be one of us, and I'm not about to let you take a member of my tribe." The captain stared at Sokka, standing properly once more. He seemed to understand something, and signaled his soldiers to stand down, which they did so hesitantly.

"I am Crown Prince Zuko, banished prince of the Fire Nation. I have come to retrieve the Avatar by order of Firelord Ozai." Sokka slammed his spear's end into the plank, just enough to produce a good thud.

"Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe and sole Warrior of Tradition." Warrior of Tradition was what Katara had called him because he was technically the only male warrior left. "If the Avatar is among us, it is their choice. I will not allow you to take them by force should they exist as one of the tribe." Sokka knew he was laying it on thick, but he wasn't ever given proper formality training so it was the best he could do. It seemed to work.

"Can you find if the Avatar is with you? He'd be the age of her." Zuko pointed at Gran-Gran, at which Sokka couldn't help but snort. Upon the looks he got, he quietly explained.

"Don't let Elder Kanna hear you. She'll claim you as her grandchild and insist you call her Gran-Gran. It's her punishment for any person who calls her old." Leaving promptly, the teenager he hurried down the gangplank and towards where Aang was hiding, Katara and the elders following, though only Katara truly entered with him.

"Well?" was the first thing Aang said as they came in. Sokka sighed at the boy, turning so he was facing both him and his sister.

"If you decide to come willingly, they'll leave us alone. This captain is honorable. Not many would include their crew in statements but he did. He won't come back so long as he gets the Avatar."

"But I'm not the Avatar," Aang hurriedly said, causing Sokka to turn fully to the boy and hold him by the shoulders.

"Aang, the Avatar was thought to be dead for a hundred years. There was never a Water Avatar, so the whole world thought the cycle had been broken. But you were frozen for a hundred years. You're an airbender. It's kinda obvious you're the Avatar." Aang looked down sadly, caught in his lie.

"But, Aang, look at me." The boy's head slowly raised. "We don't care. Right now, you are a member of our tribe. Right now, we need to talk about if you don't go."

"What are you talking about, Sokka? Of course he's not going. There isn't an 'if'." Katara pushed her way into the conversation, hands on her hips and taking the new knowledge she apparently didn't have with stride.

"If Aang doesn't go with them, they'll attack. That captain is honorable, more so than most, but he's still Fire Nation. The Firelord wants the Avatar, and his soldiers will stop at nothing until they get you. There's not much we can do to fight them off, so we need to lay our options out."

"I could go with them."

"We're not letting you go with them. We could fight and you leave. If Appa can fly, they'll see him and start following you, and you'll have an easier time evading them."

"But if they all attack at once, the village will be destroyed in matter of minutes," Sokka pointed out. They all went silent in thought, before Katara clapped her hands together.

"You said the captain was honorable, right?" Sokka nodded, confused. "So if you remind him that you're the only warrior, which is technically true because you're the only one who was raised to fight, he might fight you alone! That way you can hold him off until Aang can fly over!"

"Are you guys sure?" Aang asked, looking between the siblings apprehensively. The two nodded, trying to reassure the hundred-twelve-year-old.

With their plan, Katara quickly instructed Aang on how to leave the village discreetly while Sokka went out to speak with the elders waiting. When both siblings were done, they walked together back to the main group, leading the elders behind them. Sokka continued walking, though only halfway to the soldiers this time.

"What have you decided?" Prince Zuko called out. He looked like he already knew the verdict.

"The Avatar will not go with you. We have accounted for your need to follow orders, so I was simply told to remind you that I am the only Warrior of Tradition left." Zuko nodded, turning and speaking quietly to his soldiers. Judging by their faces, they either didn't like or didn't understand what was being said.

The captain stepped forward, assuming a basic fighting stance. Sokka did the same, spear ready. No one moved, every person present holding their breath in anticipation.

Zuko made the first move, sending two fistfuls of flames towards the Water Tribe warrior, who dodged and charged forward. More fire kept Sokka away, and the two began a pattern. Zuko used fire to keep Sokka at bay, but the prince couldn't get a single hit in.

Sokka switched it up by sliding under the next wave of flames, ducking underneath the prince's arms and ramming into his chest. In return, the firebender grabbed his spear and broke it as he was pushed back. Sokka took his club out, holding the weapon at the ready. The next few moves from his opponent were startling.

The firebender switched to a hand-to-hand combat, surprising Sokka enough that he was able to be disarmed and tossed back. Sokka threw his boomerang at Zuko, who watched it 'miss' him with confusion. He sealed his fate by turning his back on the weapon, which quickly made its way back to its owner, hitting Prince Zuko on the back of the head and knocking his helmet off.

A few low gasps could be heard from the rest of the tribe as the helmet hit the snow. Sokka, to his credit, was only slightly stunned to find that the 'young' royal was actually a teenager. A teenager with a nasty scar covering the entire left side of his face, putting his eye in a permanent glare.

Prince Zuko gave no more time for his foe to gather his bearings, sending a wave of fire straight towards him. Sokka dropped underneath them, realizing a second too late that the flames would reach his tribemates. Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, depending on how you looked at it, there was no need to worry. An orange blur came speeding past the villagers, and suddenly Aang was dispersing the fire with his glider staff.

"Stop!" Aang commanded, his voice strong and sharp. If Sokka had not earlier that day seen the same boy crash into a tower of snow and get buried just to make some kids laugh, he would have been shocked into complete silence.

As it was, he instead rolled his eyes.

"Glad you could join us, Aang," he said, sarcasm thick in his voice. "I guess Appa was too boring."

A look from Katara told him the sarcasm wasn't appreciated, and a look from Aang said that the Appa comment was uncalled for.

"Is this the Avatar?" Prince Zuko spoke up, ignoring Sokka in favor of glaring down Aang.

"Yep! I'm Aang!" Apparently, talking to a stranger from an enemy nation who wanted to capture him and maybe even kill him wasn't enough reason for the boy to drop his bubbly demeanor.

"You're just a kid!"

"Well, you're just a teenager," Aang replied, and Sokka could barely stop the snort that threatened to come. Zuko shook off the surprise of seeing a twelve-year-old boy instead of a hundred-twelve-year-old man, and slid easily into his beginning stance once more. Aang looked worried, and glanced behind him, at Katara and the others, and then over at Sokka. Despite only knowing the boy for a day, there was no doubt in Sokka's mind what Aang was considering.

"If I go with you, do you promise to leave the village alone?" Aang asked. There was no preamble, no accusing tone, just worry and a bit of curiosity. Zuko stood tall again, taking the question as easily as one could in the situation.

"You have my word, Avatar. If you come with me, the village will be left alone." Aang nodded once, firmly, before turning back to Katara and pulling her into a hug. Something was whispered in her ear, Sokka just knew, and when Aang broke the embrace and moved towards him, he knew it was his turn. Sure enough, as the small boy held onto Sokka, he whispered in the lowered ear.

"Take Appa, yip yip." The hug was over then, and Aang waved goodbye to the village, striding over to the Fire Nation soldiers. Zuko took his staff from him, pulling the boy up the gangplank by the shoulder.

A few minutes later, the ship pulled back from the ice, leaving a broken wall behind.

"Alright, Katara, kids, get to work fixing that wall, we need it done ASAP. Gran-Gran, ladies, I'm gonna need supplies for Katara, Aang and myself that will last until we can get to a market or some wildland. Make sure we have a sewing kit and stuff. I don't think we'll be back soon. Anyone not doing that, come with me. I need to go over some plans for while we're gone." Everyone sprung into action, two of the women and the oldest kid besides Sokka and Katara following their chief. Those three sat around him in their central tent, awaiting the instructions.

"Alright, we don't got much time," Sokka began. "Aang is the Avatar, but he only knows airbending. That kid is gonna need some serious help to get where he needs to be, and Katara is gonna save him no matter what. I might as well tag along and make sure they don't die but that means that there isn't gonna be a chief here anymore."

"Since we need a chief, I'm going to appoint Gran-Gran Chieftess in Absence because she's the eldest. Shiyan, I'm going to need you to start filling in the gaps. Wherever you can, especially hunting and fishing. Fang, you're going to have to take over as leader of our warriors. I know you're still training yourself, but you need to take charge. Caiji, you're all gonna need a lot more firewood since I'm leaving. Get started right away. I know we have a lot stocked up but it's better to have a large stock than to use everything up and find that there's not enough time or there's bad weather."

"SOKKA!" Katara's voice broke past the tent's walls, and her brother quickly stood, hugging each of the three.

"Keep things going. Everyone needs to work together." They all nodded their assent. Sokka rushed outside and began hugging those out there. He wasn't ashamed to say a few tears fell, because he knew that the loss of the tribe's firebender and waterbender would cause more struggle for those remaining. When goodbyes were done, Sokka attached a new spear to his back and stood in front of his people.

"While Katara and I are gone, I'm appointing Gran-Gran Chieftess in Absence. Keep strong and keep united. Life is going to be harder, so you'll have to be stronger. Tui and La bless you." With that, Katara led the way to the giant fluffy snot monster they had met earlier. Appa the apparent-flying bison. The two teens climbed aboard him, Sokka on his head, and told him to follow Aang. Only, he didn't move.

"C'mon, Appa!" Katara called from the saddle.

"Didn't Aang say something to get him to move?" Sokka asked, thinking back to the day before. Until he remembered Aang's whisper. "Yip yip?"

A yelp escaped both of the Water Tribe kids as the bison took to the air, indeed flying. Sokka nearly fell off, but managed to hold on and direct the creature towards the path of the warship.

"Katara, he's flying! Look, Katara!"

"Sokka, I know, turn around!" Sokka did just that, and found his sister sitting in the saddle with green fire dancing around her, a smug look on her face at her brother's obvious delight despite having previously discrediting the bison. Sokka schooled his face into one of indifference as quickly as possible.

"I mean, big deal, he's just flying." The statement, however unimpressed it sounded, was made null by the continuance of the green fire. Katara laughed at his attempts to pull the green back in, but flames have life on their own.

Sokka turned back to face the direction of the warship. Don't worry, Aang. We're coming for you.

#ATLA #katara #sokka #aang #zuko #firebender!sokka #firebenders #spirits #south pole #avatar #fire #waterbender #sokka needs a break #sokka is chief #aang is a child #appa #gran-gran

[dragonheadskilax]

Gonna annotate about Leon’s entire character to y’all because he’s so so good, and every time I see someone say he’s a bad character for crushing on a man who doesn’t like him back i’m >:(

An archer born in a Zofian town. His manner of speech and conduct are unmistakably similar to a young lady's. He grew up care-free thanks to his parents and their laid-back environment. He was often teased for his effeminately good looks, and he always responded with a test of skill--which he would win, improving his reflexes. He joined the army to search for someone he could devote his heart to. When Valbar decided to accompany Celica, he naturally tagged along, and provided much assistance during the journey. He has a frank personality, saying what's on his mind; he's also the type of person who wears his heart on his sleeve. After the war, he became a merchant and it's said he lived a free and happy life.

The area of Zofia do follow Mila who is known as the goddess of love so considering how Leon is sappy and having the title “True of Heart”, Leon would totally be into lovecore aesthetic.

He may act feminine, use female gendered words in other languages, and would call himself a maiden, but as far as everything else he’s crude and mean and doesn’t hold back on filtering himself even if he’s talking to a kid.

Leon left home when he was young, so considering how this game series does have a thing of making 15 year old kiddies soldiers I’m guessing he left home at around that age.

To ‘wear your heart on your sleeve’ means to be honest and openly show your feelings or emotions. He’s painfully honest and drop hints he’s not straight.

"...Blerg. I don't like sea travel, and it sure doesn't like me. I'm nauseous, I'm sunburned, and I'm wind-beaten. I look like death's damp leftovers. But YOU look fresh as a daisy, Priestess! What's your secret? ...What? Nothing? NOTHING?! But you look like a dew-dappled angel! Augh, that's so annoying... Well, youth is great and all, but don't expect it to last."

There’s that painful honesty.

He sure does focus on his looks. He’s 24, smh Leon don’t think that you’re not gonna last past 30.

"Great. We finally get off that infernal boat, and now it’s the desert. Are you doing this on purpose, Priestess? Is it personal? *sigh* I want to get out of here before I dry up like a mummy. If I turn hideous and Valbar abandons me, it’s your fault. …What did you say? …Valbar isn’t the sort to judge people by their appearance? You think I don’t realize that? I know him FAR better than you! Gods, it really throws me when you’re so rational and correct…"

Still trying hard to get noticed by Valbar.

I like how he’s saying this particular line to a 17 year old, like chill, dude. Be nice.

"When I was a kid, there was this guy that I was head over heels for. He’s the reason I enlisted, actually. Just so I could stay close to him. He died in the first battle we fought. I cried so hard, I thought my eyes were going to float clean out of my skull. Valbar saved me from that. Every time he saw me, he’d take the time to say something. Cheer me up. What can you do with a man like that but fall in love? You’re thinking I’m a tramp, aren’t you? Well, I’m not. It’s hardly my fault that the world is full of wonderful, lovable people. Such a thing really motivates one to get out there and save it."

He made a big decision to leave home and enlist to follow a guy.. Now that he fell in love with Valbar he’s doing anything to follow him, too. I guess what’s different is it had been an unrequited love, even when it was suggested that Valbar knew about it it remained as a crush. Leon loves him at a distance so then he wouldn’t get badly hurt as he once had.

Him saying he’s not a “tramp” is a bit of info I like because people tend to wanna characterize effeminate gay characters as being touchy and wanting to peek at lotsa guys (which isn’t bad but there’s more than one type of guy), but not Leon, he’s more of a yearning for a soul mate kinda guy. He’s not big on lots of physical touch unless he really likes ya. "Hey, hey, now. No more of that." “I'm a friendly fellow, but not the touchy-feely type. All right?"

talking to Valbar “Heh heh. But it's fine. Emotions come in many forms, and as you say, there's no point in hanging on. I'm still glad I have these feelings, and nothing will change that.”

A crush is totally different than being in a relationship so like... I don’t like it when people say he’s a bad character for it. It totally happens to like someone but they don’t swing that way. In Leon’s case he keeps the crush because it feels safer and sappy to have it. Even if he tries his darnest to let Valbar get the hint he Loves loves him, when nothing happens he just accepts that.

talking to Valbar “Just realizing I've been a fool for feeling sorry for myself. Compared to what you've gone through, my worries are nothing.”

Despite the ol’ “keeping his heart on his sleeve” thing Leon has a knack of keeping negative feelings to himself. Probably the type who wouldn’t admit it because it doesn’t feel as big of a deal compared to other’s. This guy needs a hug so bad.

Kamui: “Oh, you're a laugh riot. But anyway, what do you think makes a good man?”

Leon: “Hmm. That's not easily summed up in a few words, but... for starters, he should be kind, strong and mature... while maintaining a boyish innocence. He also needs to listen, but be ready to tell the hard truths when necessary.”

Kamui: “Oh, come on. No one's that perfect.”

Some people take their conversations as being odd or random information or just to express again on how Leon’s gay but I wanna turn more attention on Kamui’s motive for asking in the first place. For someone who tries to not make people take him as gay, and explicitly so in the manga, he sure do wanna know what Leon’s type is if he’s got his eyes on Valbar.

Kamui is kinda right that no one could be perfect but Leon had been describing Valbar, when like,, they’re not even in a relationship… Leon honey… don’t hurt yourself like this. This leads to their next conversation;

Kamui: It's about… what you said before. So what would you do if Valbar ended up being.. the opposite of your ideal?

Leon: Well, that's an absurd question. But in the interest of humoring you and passing the time... Well, I suppose I'd set off looking for a man who met my perfect ideal. A journey like that might actually be kind of... fun.

Kamui: I think that's the first time you and I have agreed on anything.

Kamui could probably tell that Valbar isn’t ever going to return the kind of love Leon wants, and tries to learn what Leon’s thoughts are about that. Because even if he says he doesn’t care much about anything he seems to care about Leon. On the battlefield given his specific quotes for Leon and in these conversations. Kamui tells how his luck went south ever since joining in this journey and he’s only sticking around for the money, but that job he was paid for was done a long time ago at his recruitment quest. So he seems to hang around anyway for his sense of completion on things it seems.

The word ‘journey’ is like music to Kamui’s ears considering his history. It would be a fun writing idea actually of them traveling across Valm picking guys to speed date, well, like in the manga lmaooo but wider ranged.

This would be the first time Leon speaks nicely to Kamui instead of being standoffish and harsh. Kamui sounded really relieved for that. Then when Leon says he doesn’t like him that way Kamui instantly tries to back track lol

"Hello, Kiran! I've prepared some tea. Would you care to join me? I must admit, I was anxious when you first summoned me here. Ugh, don't laugh—it's rude! I may not look worried, but I have my fair share of concern, same as anyone else. Anyway, you've proven yourself more than capable, so I suppose I don't mind sticking around. To be honest, I am eager to return home... But that can wait, I think... Care for another cup?"

He says this when level 40 in FEH. So by this point he’s well acquainted with the player. Him admitted that negative feeling is once again that thing he has of keeping feels in to not seem it’s a big issue. And him wanting to go back home…. boohoo..

(If Valbar lives) Welcomed into the One Kingdom's Brotherhood of Knights, Leon remained at Valbar's side until an injury ended his fighting career. He then took up work as a merchant in the city market, where he lived free, happy, and dauntlessly true to himself to the last.

He better keep that good happy ending 👊

(If Valbar dies) Dealt a grievous blow by Valbar's death, Leon disappeared for a time before returning to join the One Kingdom's Brotherhood of Knights. There, he fought with the strength of a hundred men, and later served as an instructor to new recruits, contributing greatly to the order.

It’s messed up to think of Leon losing someone he loves again….. He should not go through all that again… Where did he disappear to.. Did he turn himself from twink to a bear to take the place of what would’ve been Valbar’s job if he lived (since Valbar ending would’ve been him becoming the instructor)

#dragon talk

[pazvizslaplasmathrower]

Father of Hopes and Dreams -Chapter 10

Read here or on AO3!

Summary: Your young master is gone, just at the birth of your bond, he has left you for many years, leaving you to survive the galaxy alone. After sustaining an injury from a drunken storm trooper, someone faces the decision to either leave or help you in your moment of need.

Chapter Summary: A stranger finds you in someplace you do not belong and offers their help. The stranger seems to find the encounter a little unusual, not one to be forgotten. Unexpectedly, Paz runs into the infuriating Din Djarin.

A/N: Hope y’all like it! I love Paz so much asdfghjukl

Also my ask box is open for requests and prompts and all that

Word Count: 1896

The atmospheric duality of the planet was truly something, the sweltering heat of the day vanishing completely, the nearly frigid cold taking hold. Somehow the Armorer had crafted your clothing and armor, in such a fashion, neither heat or cold was a death sentence, the ill-prepared layman had no chance of survival. You had been that way not long ago. Perched atop a building in the center of the port city, you had a fantastic view of life down below. Speeders flew by, thieves laying in wait for the occasional, unsuspecting victim, crowds shifted by one another, not one seeming at comfort.

Your long ears perked up at the sound of vivacious music, ringing throughout the streets. The melody unlike anything you had heard before. Your master had sang many songs about Jedi and great Force authorities of old, great tales of discovery and reverence. In your opinion the best one were that of grand adventure, but your youthful master admonished you for that, saying that while those ballads may be wonderful, they were a bit less than humble.

This sound was unlike anything else, making you want to stand up and dance around like a fool. Instead, you stealthily snaked your way down the building, weaving in between civilians and visitors alike until you were standing outside the entrance of the massive cantina, debating if this was going to be worth the potential trouble. The last on you had been in was on Stewjon where that kriffing trooper decided to slash you open with a vibroblade.

Deciding the risks were minimal, you crouched behind a group entering, slipping past the guard unnoticed. Once inside, the music became drastically more erratic than sonorous, lights of numerous colors flashing, making your eyes sting. Patrons of many cultures danced around to the strong beat of the music, crashing into you without care. Overwhelmed by the assault on all your senses, it was only made worse when you felt a hot sensation against the shell of your ear.

“OoOOoH. What do we have here? I don't think I've s-”

When the perpetrator's hand laid on your arm, you sprang into action. At once, you seized the fiend's arm, dragging them forward with all your might, still hanging on, you bared your teeth and bit down hard. The drunk quarren let out a strangled scream, and you let go, allowing him to draw back his bleeding arm and clutch it to his chest.

“Ugh!” You retched. “That was foul!”

Noticing the stares starting to moved your way, you moved away, heading towards the bar which offered a decent spot to watch the musicians on stage. A small section of stools were unoccupied, so you knelt down to hide under the edge of the counter. Truthfully, it was difficult to focus on the music when the environment was so grossly overwhelming. Each note sent a wave through your body, making your head pound. The incessant chatter and screaming was so shrill, it took all the self control you had not to do something about it.

“Hey, kiddo. You alright there?”

Eyes that were once glued shut flew open, nervously seeing a pair of boots. Following them led to a stern man, hands settled on his hips. He was quite becoming for a human man, subtly sculpted features,  a voice that had the potential to be friendly, and warm brown hair.

“What's a young kid like you doing in a place like this, huh?” He asked.

Too stunned to answer, you wondered if you would be able to make it through the dense crowds swiftly.

“Hey!” The man stated sharply. “Don't get any funny ideas, okay? Do you have a parent or guardian or something?”

The question threw you. A master who was missing? Yes. A Mandalorian warrior who was helping you find said master? Yes. Parent? No?

“Um. I-I don't know.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose a second before offering you his hand. “I think I saw one like you outside, looked pretty worried. C'mon.”

You didn't want to. Only a fool would take the hand of a man they didn't know. At any moment he could try and attack. At this point in time, you were stronger and more focused than you had been in a long while. This was simply one human man, he could put up a fight, but surely you would be victorious if need be.

Nodding, you let the man help you to your feet and pull you through the dancers and those reveling in the sweet madness.

“The name's Solo.” He huffed, keeping his grip tight. “This ain't no place for a kid y'know?”

“Tch, Mr. Solo, you're not my father.”

Without warning, he turned on his heel, jerking you suddenly. “I know I'm not your father and don't call me that!”

Scowling, you fixed the man with a harsh glare. “I'll think about it, Mr. Solo.”

***___***___***

Clenching his fists, Paz regarded the man before him with begrudging respect.

“What brings you here, Din Djarin?” He asked coolly, softening a bit at seeing the baby sleeping in its carrier.

“I could ask you the same thing.” There was an abundant pause. “But I don't care.”

He had hardly said a thing and Djarin was already being such a kriffing bastard, if it were not for the baby, he would have walked over in two strides and given Din a piece of his mind.  He was of course overly tense because the child in his care had run off. Maker, it better have been of their own volition or else Paz would start to lose his mind.

“I don't have time for your blatant disrespect. Answer me this, have you seen a young child running about? Mandalorian clothing....Humanoid...”

Din Djarin shifted uneasily. “What. Since when do you have a child?”

“That is not for you to know, I only asked if you had seen such a child.” Paz snapped, annoyed by the hint of venom in the other's voice.

The tiny, green baby wheezed awkwardly as his father took a few steps forward, moving into Paz Vizsla's personal space. At least he had the pleasure of being able to look down on Din, he having to crane his neck upwards.

“If it's my help you are trying to get my help, you're going about it the wrong kriffing way.”

By simply flexing his fingers, one could hear the small chorus of crackling coming through his gloves. Somewhere in this port, Y/N could be in danger and here he was being insulted by this son of a-

“There! There! That's him!”

“Hey! Calm down kid! You're gonna rip off my arm!”

Pushing Din Djarin aside, Paz could see from far off, young Y/N tugging the arm of a handsome, disgruntled looking man. He went forward to meet the child who excitedly jumped up and hugged him tightly.

“Found you!” They laughed, sharp teeth flashing.

The stranger sighed. “You didn't find em'. I did. You were the one hiding under the bar in the Cantina.”

“What?” Vizsla plucked the kid off of him, holding them up in the air. “You went inside a Cantina?! I thought I told you to hide someplace close and stay there until I was finished?”

From behind he could hear Din laugh quietly to himself, that kriffing idiot was probably jeering under his shiny, little helmet.

“Uh, well, I guess there are your fathers. I'll let you guys be.” The handsome man turned to leave.

“We're not'-!” It was no use, the stranger didn't care and kept walking until he vanished into the sea of people.

“Bye, Mr. Solo!” Y/N yelled.

Gently, Paz placed the kid on the ground, looking them over for any injuries, no matter how minimal they might be. Only a couple of scuffs here and there and tired eyes. He took a small med kit from a pouch, cleaning the scrapes making sure they would not get infected.

“What the hell were you thinking, A'dika?”

“You took forever!” They whined, their eyes distracted by something else. “I thought I'd just look around y'know?”

“No. I don't know” Paz pocketed the kit. “Maker, Y/N, would you look at me?”

The child blinked a few times before fixing their gaze on him. “You never told me there were even more!”

They gestured to Din who had the audacity to still be standing, observing something that did not involve him in the slightest...

“I didn't think you would be meeting him...much less so soon.” He growled.

Y/N shook their head, moving closer to Din against Paz's wishes. The other Mandalorian tensed, not liking them in his space, but he remained calm.

“That is Din Djarin, young one. He is a Mandalorian like me.”

They smiled, showing once again, those razor sharp teeth. “Kinda figured!” They shrugged. “Whoa, cool baby, mister.”

Din watched stiffly as Y/N offered the baby a finger which his son took. The eyes of Paz's child grew wide, what sort of strange greeting was this?

“Kark...” The older child breathed.

“Y/N, watch your tongue.” Paz stated flatly.

“Hey, he's like me!”

Both Mandalorians looked at one another, though neither of them could see the other's face, both could feel the same chilling anticipation.

***___***___***

Your guardian and his friend had made it safely back to the hangar of the ghoulish man, who luckily was fast asleep. Though no one could see him, you could definitely hear him. The uneasiness he gave you was greatly overshadowed by the excitement coursing through your body. Not only had you met a very unusual yet adorable baby, that baby happened to have a strong connection to the living Force. Not to mention you had met the third Mandalorian in your life. The man wasn't much for talking. The whole walk back you tried asking him questions about his little boy, to which he would simply grunt in reply. Not entirely useful, but perhaps he was just shy.

“So, Mr. Djarin, what kind of things can your baby do? Can he lift stuff? Without touching it of course. Can he levitate? Or make people-”

“Alright, A'dika.” Paz laid his hands on your shoulders moving you in front of him and away from his friend. “That's enough for one night. Go board the ship, I set up sleeping arrangements for you. Alright?”

“But I wanna talk to the baby!” You protested.

Hand on his hips, Paz stood between you and the little one who was pulling at one of the straps of his carrier. Your guardian moved to the closest wall, throwing a switch upwards, bringing dozens of fluorescent lights alive, but they were perhaps less than dim, casting only a soft glow. Under the light was a fair looking star ship, certainly not anything lavish, but not scrap metal either. A flagship of sorts, rather flat in design was parked with its bay door wide open, the thick outer durasteel, gray with a marks of deep, dark purple. You looked back at the others, locking eyes with the baby. You would see each other again. And if fate didn't allow for that to happen, you would make it so.

#sw #star wars #star wars series #star wars saga #the mandalorian #the mandolorian #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian fic #mando fic #fiction #fanfic #fic #paz fic #paz vizsla fic #paz vizla #paz vizsla #y/n #reader insert

[daenerysdanvers]

glory [s. rogers]

summary ♔ Prince Steven Rogers, of the old country Avenger, must marry before he can inherit the throne. He is sent by his father to Marvelle in the hopes of convincing its princess into matrimony. Steven quickly learns that customs in Marvelle are nothing like home. 

warnings ♔ nothing warnings to be had, yet

notes  ♔ This is my first contribution to the fanfiction world and I hope you all enjoy this! I appreciate feedback! “Avenger” is pronounced as “aah-ven-gher” [hard G] in this when being referred to as a country. 

ONE | THE GILDED COUNTRY

Steven disembarked the ship with a fluttering stomach, gazing at the new, foreign surroundings with a critical eye. Marvelle, aptly nicknamed the Gilded Country, with it’s towering, ornate buildings and infamous golden castle, was nothing Steven had ever experienced before in his life. The hustling liveliness of the capital city could be clearly heard from his place on the docks, and he was eager to see what all it had to offer. 

“You act as if you’ve never travelled before.” Sam, the captain of his guard as well as his oldest and closest friend, clasped his shoulder, smiling gently. “Standing there like a child in awe is unlike you.”

It is true - this gawking, enamored man was usually the perfect, poised prince, always composed no matter the situation. His father would keel over if he witnessed his son behaving in this manner. 

“I had heard the stories of this place,” Steven laughs in disbelief. “But I never thought it would be like this. Even their shipyard is filthily lavish.”

“Wait until you see the castle.” Sam guides him to the waiting carriage, the cart a symbol of excessive, golden grandeur, peering around with a cautious eye. “Everything there is filthily lavish. Marvelle isn't called the Gilded Country for nothing.”

“You’ve been?” Steven questions. The carriage lurches as they take off.

Sam nods. “I was sent by your father to negotiate during the war. I stayed in the palace for a couple of months, meeting with the general. She is a very intimidating woman. As well as her personal guards; they don’t leave her side, ever.”

“A woman as general? Really?” Wide-eyed, Steven looks at Sam with surprise. Never had he ever heard of a woman leading an army. To be general - she had to be phenomenal in all aspects. “Who is she?”

A smirk curves at Sam’s mouth. “The princess you’re expected to marry.”

                                                           +

Steven marvels at the environment as they journey to the castle. It stands tall amongst the capital’s skyline, gates shining gold in the sun. Everything around him is lush and flourishing - gargantuan trees line their path into the capital’s walls and decorate the forest beyond, their presence only interrupted by the staccato patches of beautiful, blooming wildflowers. If Steven concentrates hard enough, he can catch the rushing of the river hidden in the forest somewhere. Everything around him is so powerfully thriving and he wants to immerse himself in it completely.

Most of Avenger’s capital, as well as the majority of the other cities, is paved with drab stone and ugly, boring buildings. What little unoccupied land Avenger has consists of treeless, rolling hills. It takes a few hours ride before anyone can reach what is considered a forest. But even that is just comprised of sporadic clusters of trees. Avenger does not have much beauty to offer in terms of its architecture or nature. 

The thought saddened Steven immensely. He loved nature, the beauty the world had to offer, and his country was destroying it. Marvelle embraced nature, making artificial intwine with organic in a symphonic dance. Steven had never witnessed anything like it. He’s already fallen in love with the landscape.

Now, if only he and the princess could do the same for each other after they meet. Steven grew up knowing that he probably wouldn’t get to marry for love, but he couldn’t help his wishful thinking. He doesn’t want a loveless marriage only meant for convenience. He wants an equal partnership, one full of love and loyalty to one another.

“Tell me about her, Sam.” Steven asks quietly. “Will I like her?”

Sam smiles knowingly. “Her name is Bella, and I believe she is what you’ve been looking for. She’s strong-willed, not easily deterred. Once she sets her mind on something, she fully intends to go through with it - much like you in that aspect. She’s also very intelligent, almost terrifyingly so, and very charming.”

“What else?”

“She’s an impeccable general, and I respect her ability to lead. Her men are undyingly loyal to her because she listens to them, keeps an open mind.”

Steven’s mouth quirks up into a grin at that. She sounds like an amazing woman, and suddenly the carriage couldn’t move fast enough. “What does she look like?”

He imagines that she’s the most beautiful woman he’ll ever see in his lifetime.

“About that,” Sam’s demeanor suddenly grows serious as he sits up straighter, staring Steven right in the eyes. “She is a soldier, and you know that the life of a soldier is a hard one.”

Steven nods. He himself was a soldier.

“She has...very visible scarring on her face.” Sam continues. “Do not offend her by staring.”

Scoffing, Steven rolls his eyes. “Surely, you don’t believe me to be that rude. I have manners. And a little scarring won’t deter me.”

“I am merely warning you, my liege.”

                                                            +

Steven waits stiffly in the receiving hall, back ramrod straight and hands behind his back. Sam stands beside him with an amused smile on his face, relaxed as ever as Steven worries. 

His father always said worrying is what Steven did best. He’s inclined to think his father is right, considering he was about to sweat through his clothes from sheer nervousness. The prince imagines he’s quite the sight to see - fretting like a schoolboy over meeting a girl for the first time instead of standing there like the confident royal he should be.

“Are you sure my attire is appropriate?” Steven inquires quietly. “I feel like it is too simple.”

He’s dressed in a plain tunic with a navy cloak fastened around his shoulders, leather breeches, and his least worn riding boots. His sword lay sheathed at his side. The only thing that indicated him to be royalty was the simple silver crown lain atop his blonde hair. 

“The princess appreciates simple, believe me.” Sam murmurs, failing to stifle a chuckle, much to Steven’s dismay. ���Now quit worrying. You don't want her to sense your nerves.”

The doors ahead of them open slowly, and Steven feels his heart begin to hammer in his chest. King Heimdall walks through with his head held high, face set into an expression of disregard, followed by what Steven assumes to be his wife and son. 

The son is a twin of his father’s image, holding that same regal, nearly arrogant, air about him. Both of their eyes shine that infamous gold. The mother, Queen Valerie, is a gentler sight to see as she offers Steven a smile, stiff as it may be. She holds herself tensely - as if preparing for a fight - and Steven cannot help but wonder if his presence is the cause. 

He doesn’t fail to notice that the queen is the only one to carry a sword at her side, scabbard nearly concealed by her long fur coat. She’s probably waiting to find any minuscule excuse to keep Steven away from her daughter permanently.

Perhaps she is whom Bella inherits her fighting spirit from. 

Speaking of - Steven doesn’t see the princess anywhere. Biting back his dismay, Steven bows. “Your Majesties. Pleasure to make your acquaintances. I am Steven of Avenger. Thank you for hosting me.”

“Welcome to our country!” Heimdall smiles genuinely, breaking that facade of stone, and Steven feels a little bit of weight lift off his shoulders. He holds out a hand for Steven to shake. “What do you think so far?”

“From what little I’ve been able to see,” Steven chuckles. “I do believe Marvelle is a beautiful place. I don’t get to see much beyond concrete and stone in Avenger. It’s a welcome change of scenery.”

Valerie tilts her head, considering his words. “I’ve never been to Avenger. I haven’t really travelled much in my lifetime.”

Steven places her accent immediately, recognizing the smooth lilt to her voice. “There isn’t much to see, if I am to be completely honest with you. You are from Asgard?”

A true warrior country. Everyone that hails from Asgard were raised on battle and blood, learning sword work and facets of war before they could even hold their heads up properly. Steven admires their way of life, as glory-driven as it is.

Valerie seems surprised at his deduction, impression fluttering across her face. She offers him the tiniest of smiles, but Steven counts it as a win in his favor either way. “I am. You’ve been?”

“I adore going there.” Steven admits. “It’s one of my favorite places to visit. No matter how many times I go, I always leave having learned something new - not many places can do that to a person, because, after a while, the novelty tends to wear off.”

A pleased grin takes over her face then, and Steven believes he has officially won her over as her posture loses its edge. “You travel a lot, then?”

As he goes to answer, the doors to the foyer slam open with all the fury of a sea storm, and no one but Steven flinches at the harsh disruption. The woman responsible angrily marches inside, dressed in leather pants and a sleeveless tunic. 

“Daughter,” Heimdall sighs. “Manners.”

So. This must be Bella. 

“You’re trying to marry me off without my say-so.” she all but growls, lip curling as she rakes glare over Steven’s appearance. “I am entitled to act however I please.”

How charming. If she were a lady in any other place - other than Agard, perhaps - she would have been violently backhanded across the face by her father.

But, Bella has no qualms about sauntering into Steven’s personal space, standing toe-to-toe with him and squaring her shoulders defiantly. From his vantage point, Steven can see her eyes are mismatched colors - one the color of molten gold and the other as black as a starless night sky. He is taken aback by how beautiful the disconnect of it is.  

He can also see that her dark hair is shorn close to her scalp at the sides, the rest of the dark tresses braided tightly to her head, the look making her face look angular, full of sharp edges and nothing to soften her expression. The openness of her appearance allows his gaze to find a lengthy, thick scar mottling the bottom half of her face. It starts mid-cheek, the broad line of it lighter than the rest of her skin, and extends through the corner of her mouth and her bottom lip, trailing until it stops under the slope of her jaw. Another one, though not as severe, cuts across the bridge of her nose until it intersects with the other.

She has lived a soldier’s life, indeed. 

“Hello, Princess.” Steve murmurs, wary of the way his breath surely washes over her face. “I am Steven, hailing from Avenger. It is wonderful to meet you.”

Bella hums some noncommittal greeting in return, face hardening even further. Steven could feel sweat pooling at the back of his neck and wanted nothing more than to rip his cloak off. Or possibly run back to the ship and go home.

After a tense moment of silently staring one another down, she asks, “How good are you with a sword, Steven of Avenger?”

Time to be tested, then - to see if he is worthy of wedding a daughter with Asgardian blood.

#steve rogers #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x oc #prince!steve rogers #marvel au #marvel fic #jb writes shit

[stephicness]

Once We Were -- Ravus Week, Day 1

Happy @ravus-week, my friendo amigos! :D It’s been awhile since I’ve written, so hopefully I’m not too rusty.

But I also felt like I couldn’t pass up Ravus Week of all things. After all, my boy deserves some love, so golly gosh, I’mma give him more attention! Hopefully, if things go well, you’ll probably get either a drawing or a writing from me as well as a gif/graphic set. SO TIME TO KICK MYSELF INTO GEAR FOR IT!

Until then, enjoy Day One of Ravus Week from me~

Ravus Week, Day 1 Afternoon Tea Rating: G Word Count: 1924 Character Focus: Ravus Nox Fleuret, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret Warnings: None. Just sibling stuff.

Odd… She hadn’t seen Ravus all day. As busy as he was with work, Ravus had an extremely precise and predictable schedule. He woke up just before six in the morning, proceeded to wake up within fifteen to thirty minutes before preparing himself for training – it was quite a meticulous schedule. So much so that – to the dot – she was able to tell that Ravus would and should have been in his study sorting through paperwork while writing disgruntled letters to Chancellor Izunia.

At least, Lunafreya thought that she knew. Her eyes surveyed the study, and alas, there was no sign of him. Not at his desk or on his lounge sofa. He wasn’t even in the storage closet, which lead to quite a few jokes and a hilarious story about how he got locked in there to begin with. But funny stories aside, there wasn’t any sight of Ravus.

Lunafreya hummed to himself in thought, a dainty index finger curled under her chin. “Odd… He never changes things up…” 

Her eyebrows furrowed, blue eyes turning towards the white dog at her side. Even the dog seemed as if it was confused by Ravus’s mysterious disappearance, its head tilted aside before it looked up at its master.

“You wouldn’t happen to know where he is, Pryna?”

The dog looked forward again before standing up and beginning to trot away. Oh! Where was Pryna off to? The blonde-haired princess turned toward the study for another quick glance before jogging after the dog.

The manor seemed far bigger without any sight of Ravus taking his two o’clock patrol around with the other soldiers while giving them their usual regiment and plans for the day. Not even the regular guards seemed to be about, only with a few servants passing by to give the manor any sort of life. Were the rest of the Tenebraen royal guard deployed somewhere? Was something wrong? No… If there was something wrong, the staff would be unsettled and whispering with dread. Instead, it was a rather lithe environment. The princess couldn’t help but furrow her eyebrows curiously in thought.

Well, if Ravus wasn’t working, where in the world would he be? It was honestly hard to imagine. This was Ravus after all. Lunafreya stopped in her tracks, causing Pryna to come to a halt and watch its master curiously. If one was to track Ravus, one would have to think like Ravus. And perhaps it was thinking a bit too much like him, but she didn’t really seem phased as she huffed her chest up. Her shoulders pulled themselves back, and her brow furrowed even more into a scowl as terrifying as a puppy’s gaze.

“’What is the meaning of this?’” Her voice was hardly as low and spiteful as Ravus’s voice ever would be, but it was still a humorous attempt that Pryna responded to with by barking excitedly. “’I am not doing work for once! What am I do to with such nuance and wasted time?! Dilly dally, work work work when I have a day off!’”

The babbling Lunafreya did stopped abruptly with one of the steps she took. “’Wait a moment. If I do not have work, then I would wish to relax. And what would I do to relax, my good faithful companion?’”

She looked down at Pryna as the dog twirled around and began bouncing down the corridor.

“’To the garden, Pryna!’”

She dropped the guise only because she didn’t know how anyone could be so physically stiff all the time.

Lunafreya chased after Pryna, coming to the outside courtyard and entrance to the gardens. As if approaching a sacred place, she laced his fingers together as if in a prayer. The gardens were always a lovely place to visit. But if anything, they were surely Ravus’s domain. She had her own favorite places to visit amongst it, but the gardens were perhaps Ravus’s most treasured place. Not even his own bed could provide him with such solace. If she were to see what Ravus was up to, she’d have to at least come up with a good reason for disturbing Ravus on such holy grounds. It was already so rare for him to break from his schedule as is. And if her intuition was correct, then it would mean it would be disrespectful to bother him… Right?

She let out a soft sight before walking into the gardens. All along the shrubs were white roses, adorning and complimenting the grassy patches that the sylleblossoms sprouted from. Various other flowers were found amongst the sea of flowers, but whites and blues dominated the garden as if they were clouds amongst a blue sky. Seas of green all a sign of the beauty and life that grew just outside of where the royal family resided.

And within the beautiful waves of flora was Ravus. Like an elegant marble sculpture, he sat at one of the garden’s picnic tables with his legs crossed and a book splayed in his palm. He was serene and gentle with his expression and posture, simply absorbed into the novel as he absent-mindedly stirred the creamy liquid in the porcelain cup on the table.

Lunafreya couldn’t help but smile at such a sight. This was the first time in years that she’s ever seen him so calm…

“There you are, Ravus.” Ravus turned his gaze upwards from his book and peered at his sister through the thin-framed spectacles he sported. Even if he didn’t jolt, it seemed as if he was too absorbed in his book to have noticed her so easily. The wide eyes showed it. Lunafreya smiled in response as she approached closer. “I was wondering where you were today.”

“Ah… I apologize.” His expression softened as he looked at her. “Did I worry you, Lunafreya?”

“Hm… A little. When I didn’t see you in your study, I grew worried. It’s rare for you to stray from your schedule, Ravus.”

“A change not on my own volition,” he replied bitterly. “Were it my choice, I would have resumed my tasks.”

“But…?” Lunafreya leaned over his shoulder to look at what Ravus was reading, only to make out a brief sentence in it that made her blush and stand upright again. Oh. Private reading.

Ravus sighed and closed his book, taking his glasses off and setting his belongings down on the metal flourishes of the table. He gestured for Lunafreya to take the seat across from him, to which she eagerly abided and sat. “The doctor has claimed that my constant working has been resulting in the infantry ‘suffering with the consequences.’ I do not understand what it was they were insinuating. But to humor them, I abided in their proposal for a day of leisure and relaxation and left General Tummelt to today’s regiment.”

“Ah… So that’s why everyone’s so relaxed today.”

“Pardon?”

“Nothing, brother.” Lunafreya smiled at Ravus, glancing down at the tea and pastries sitting on the table before she tilted his head at him. “It’s nice though… To see you look so calm today. And to see you at all, really.”

Ravus arched an eyebrow and asked, “What do you mean by that? I live in the palace, just as you.”

“I know you do, but I rarely get to see you in general.” Lunafreya’s expression was soft, but there was a sad look in her eyes as she curled her hands together towards her chest. “You and I have travelled different paths – this I know for certain. But even so, I still miss being able to see you. Even something as mundane and trivial as greeting you for breakfast is something that I have missed from you, brother.”

Lunafreya’s expression seemed to shift to one of surprise as she bowed her head towards her brother. She was supposed to be grateful for all that Ravus was doing to protect her and those of Tenebrae. All the sacrifices he’s had to make for the good of everyone shouldn’t be overlooked all because Lunafreya missed her brother. He had his duties, just as she had her own. It wasn’t her place to complain and demand for his attention. They would always be family, regardless of how often they spoke with one another. That should be all that she should ask for.

“I’m sorry, Lunafreya.”

The princess looked up, having been beaten to an apology as she watched Ravus rise from his place. Was he going to leave? Oh no… She probably ruined his relaxation. She hesitated as she looked up at him. And yet, instead of a harsh glare he often displayed, it was a soft and sincere expression as he knelt before her. He held her hands as if caressing glass, fragile and dainty, as she returned his hold, feeling the callouses from his slender fingers brush over the back of her hands. A comforting gesture that Ravus always did whenever he knew Lunafreya was upset. It always was easy for him to tell, after all.

“Why are you apologizing, Ravus? It-“

“Do not say it is your fault or that you are being selfish.” Lunafreya had to avert her gaze. Ravus, however, only spoke kind words as he shook her hands. Just enough to bring her blue pools back to sight. “I know how hard it has been for Tenebrae – for us – as we find ourselves in hard times. But no matter how the hardships affect us or how the grief and loneliness feel overwhelming, you may always look to me for a remedy. Do I make myself clear?”

Lunafreya nodded in response, just as a small smile pressed itself past Ravus’s stoic demeanor. He brought the princess’s knuckles up to his lips, placing a comforting kiss on top of them as he gave her hands another squeeze. “I do what I can to protect you and make you happy, Lunafreya. But if ever should you need me, even to simply say hello, I will return to your side to protect you.”

“I know, Ravus,” she replied as a smile returned itself to Ravus. “It’s just that you do all that you can, so I don’t wish to bother you.”

“Rather you bother me than the chancellor.”

Lunafreya couldn’t help but laugh at such a curt statement, causing Ravus to chuckle as if it were contagious. “Well, I suppose I can’t argue with that…” She grinned and shook Ravus’s hands. “Then, since you’re trying to defy your doctor’s expectations on your ‘forced leave,’ would you like to share some cake with me back at the palace? We can get your more tea, since I imagine this has gone cold.”

“Has it?” He looked down at the tea pot. “I was too absorbed in my book, it seemed.”

“That interesting of a book?”

Ravus had to look away. “It was something the commodore suggested to me. I wasn’t anticipating it to be this…”

“Provocative?”

“Smutty.”

Lunafreya laughed again, letting go of Ravus’s hands so she could rise to her feet. She began to make her way towards the courtyard, but not without snatching the book from the table and grinning at Ravus. “Perhaps I should read it afterwards then, since you seemed so absorbed in such a tale.”

“You absolutely shall not, Lunafreya!” Ravus’s face reddened as he quickly stood up and chased afterwards. “Return to me the book at once!”

She felt like a child again as she laughed and ran from her brother. “You’ll have to catch me first!”

#ravus week #stephic writings #final fantasy xv #ffxv #ravus nox fleuret #ravus #lunafreya nox fleuret #lunafreya #fanfiction

[deaconwords]

Remember and be Grateful

I want to begin by thanking you and your Deacon for inviting me to serve as your guest proclaimer today. I enjoy every opportunity for me, a Baptist Deacon, to be with you. And to be allowed to share my reflections with you is even more special. I bring to you not only the best wishes from my home church - Highland Baptist - but also from my other church - Family Scholar House. As many of you know, I am the Chief Possibility Officer, President & CEO of our organization. Ultimately, that means I am the one responsible for the care of the over 30,000 households we serve across 23 states and also for my staff & their families too.

I love the role that I am allowed to play in the lives of my families. Sometimes that is about offering guidance and support. But the majority of the time, it is about providing unconditional love and accountability in equal measure. Just last night, I had an opportunity to be with a group of Family Scholar House graduates and their children as they attended their first LouCity FC game. It was great to see them and, I would say reconnect; but, they all stay in touch so there was never a disconnect. There were lots of hugs and pictures. Several thanked me again for being their mama. I hold that as a high honor. While I grieve that they did not have the family they deserve, I celebrate how they are creating a healthy family environment for their children and partners. We can never have too much healthy family to love and nurture us. One of my little girls, now 7, said, “Mrs. Cathe, you love me, right?” I assured her that I do, with my whole heart.

It sometimes feels like I am everyone’s mama. I imagine that Moses may have sometimes felt sort of like that too - the parent for every one of the Israelites.

As a leader and a parent, I am not fond of whining. I generally think most every problem has a solution, even if we have no immediate idea what that solution is. I just wish more people would put the energy they put into complaining into solving problems.

This morning’s lectionary readings present us with some rich imagery and powerful stories for us to unpack.

I specifically asked that we read the passage from Exodus. After 400 years in bondage to Pharaoh and the Egyptians, the Israelites had been liberated. One chapter earlier, both Moses and Miriam sang beautiful songs of redemption in celebration. Moses (with God by his side) performed one of the most extraordinary feats in the Old Testament by parting the Red Sea, escaping their persuers, and leading his people into the desert.

Unfortunately, they were not there even one hot minute before the complaining began.

The Israelites say to Moses we don’t have water. So Moses finds that for them.

They say this water tastes bitter. So Moses gets with God and gets them a great supply of tasty water to drink.

In Chapter 16, here we are only a few verses later, and what do we have, a whole bunch of complainers. Grumbles. Whiners. What a shame.

You can almost imagine the ring leaders getting every body stirred up to the point that they would tell Moses and Aaron, If only we had died in Egypt - in bondage - where we had food to eat. Here, we are free in the wilderness and hungry.

So Moses appeals to the Lord who says that he has HEARD their complaining.

Our passage ends with them getting the ultimate in GrubHub meal deliveries with quail to eat every evening and manna - literally bread from heaven - delivered to them to eat every morning. That is where today’s reading ends and you might would think that we could check the box for Problem solved, right? But, spoiler alert, that is not the case.

Not only does the whining continue but they refuse to follow the direct instructions given to them for collecting, storing, baking, and sharing the manna. And it goes badly.

One of the most important things God will ask is that they gather an Omer of manna and preserve it in the tabernacle to remember this time and how God provided for them. It was not about having a snack for the journey, it was about remembrance.

What does all this teach us? It seems to me that the Israelites of Exodus and people of today seem to be an awful lot alike in their attitudes and behaviors. Both groups often have short memories for all the good things that they have experienced and seem quick to complain when anything isn’t to their standards.

The experts at Psychology Today Magazine identify complaining as falling into three different categories:

The first category is ‘instrumental complaining’: Complaining that focuses on improvement. Most of us would call this constructive criticism. Such as explaining to your husband that there is a better way to load the dishwasher. Or encouraging your wife to put the tools she borrowed from your tool bench back where she found them in a timely manner. While it can be presented as a complaint, the goal is to get to a new understanding, do some problem-solving and have better results.

The second category is ‘venting’, defined as expressing emotional dissatisfaction. Something doesn’t go your way and you want to let some of those emotions out. This is stuff like complaining about the weather over which none of us have any control or traffic or something on the news or fill in the blank. Here is what research tells us about venting: People who vent have an agenda; they are focused on themselves and how things affect them and mostly ONLY them. By sharing their displeasure, they are seeking attention, not advice or problem-solving. Just a chance to have their feelings validated. Unfortunately, it isn’t that simple. Research shows that while venters might feel a pinch better by sharing their feelings, the people they vent to absorb that negativity and end up feeling worse. It becomes contagious.

The third kind is the worst. ‘Chronic complaining’. Not only does the grumbling of chronic complainers spew negativity on those with whom they share it, they are also worse off. Chronic complainers have a tendency to ruminate on problems. To focus on setbacks not progress. Some research even suggests that chronic complaining can re-wire their brains so that the negative thinking becomes even more engrained and pervasive. The more complaining they do, the more things they find to complain about and then the more complaining they do. And that cycle continues. I know some people like this. I’ll bet you do too. It can be hard to be around them and, when we are, it can be hard to protect ourselves from feeling worse because of it.

As I think about the Israelites, I imagine that we have a mix of types of complainers. Likely a few ringleaders who fall into the chronic complainer category, some venters who want to be validated in their unhappiness, and maybe one or two people who were trying to find a way to make things better.

What I don’t understand is how they could have thought that the God who rescued them from Pharaoh would desert them in the desert. After all the plagues put upon the Egyptians. After parting the Red Sea, after getting them good water, and quail and manna - the bread of heaven. After all of it, why would they not think that God would provide for them.

It turns out that psychologists know from their research that the antidote to complaining is gratitude. Happy people complain less. Most importantly, they do not have easier lives, they just find ways to be grateful for more things and more often. When they complain, they do so more mindfully, most often to make things better. It is a really good goal. Even when we fall short and find ourselves fussing about something, remembering all of God’s blessings is a way to re-center ourselves for our benefit and for the benefit of those around us. Sometimes it can help to have an example in mind to remind us of all the good things. I know this to be true because it has helped me.

Here is my story:

I grew up in Columbia, SC and I grew up in the church. Crib Baby to Sunbeams to Girls in Action. Youth Choir. All of it. As a teen, my family were members at North Trenholm Baptist Church. I was active in the youth group and, if the church doors were unlocked, I was there. During services, I sat with my peers in the youth section down front on the Epistle side. Our elders liked to have us where they could see us and make faces from the choir loft if we misbehaved. Not that it made much of a difference.

There was a deacon in our church who was regularly called upon to give the offertory prayer. As soon as we saw him headed toward the pulpit, the groans were irrepressible. And then the giggles started because we knew what was coming and we knew we were in for a long one. This deacon had an accent and, probably as a favor to the rest of us, spoke very intentionally. His speaking was not the issue. It is just that every time he prayed, it was basically the same prayer and it was always long.

He started with thanking God for the seed and the fertile soil.

Then he thanked God for the hands that planted the seed. Then he thanked God for the sun and the rain. When the wheat started to grow, he thanked God for those who harvested it and processed it and milled it. Eventually we got that wheat turned into a loaf of bread. To the wholesale. To the grocer. And, thanks be to God, when we finally got the bread all the way to the table. This easily took 15 minutes. A full lesson in agriculture stuffed into a prayer. Even discreet glances and frantic harsh looks from parents in the choir could not keep all of us in line for the duration of his prayer.

Then one Sunday evening, this Deacon delivered his testimony. Like with the wheat, he began at the beginning. He told of escaping the oppressive dictatorship in Cuba with his family. He told of the awful conditions trying to get to America, the failed attempts, the death of a child during the escape, the poverty experienced in starting over, the difficulty acclimating to America, and through it all he THANKED God for never deserting him and his family. He thanked God for every single blessing along the way. He told his story with GRATITUDE.

I was humbled that night. Truly humbled - not by what he had endured which was awful; but by his perspective on it all. My teenage attitude got recalibrated pretty quickly.

I think this is what the psychologists are getting at. This man’s life was not easy, he had been through really awful times; but, his gratitude overrode any complaining.

Now I am not perfect, not even close. I still complain, about the dishwasher or the weather or traffic, or whatever. But I try to catch myself when I do so and remember how very blessed I am.

Blessed like the Israelites in their Exodus.

Blessed to have all the bread I could want without having to plant even one wheat seed. Blessed to have a deep and abiding faith in Jesus - the Bread of Life.

Blessed and Grateful. Blessed and Faithful.

Psalm 103:1-2

Praise the Lord, O my soul,

All my inmost being, praise his holy name,

Praise the Lord, O my soul,

And forget not all of God’s benefits.

Amen.

—Offered by Dr. Cathe Dykstra at St. George’s Episcopal Church on 8-1-21

[ganymedesclock]

You know how Lance has been dubbed Space Sokka by the fandom? I’ve been rewatching A:TLA and the more I get into it, the more I notice that Lance acts less like Sokka and more like Katara: driven by compassion for others, has an extreme desire to prove himself, optimistic almost to a fault, and he seems to always believe the best of other people. This is not to say Lance is Space Katara, because he’s his own character, but I thought it was interesting similar they are. Thoughts?

I think Lance superficially gives a Sokka vibe but as a person, I agree he does probably have a bit more in common with Katara.

The main difference, though, which I think really distinguishes Lance from both of them is... Sokka and Katara both grew up in a rather war-torn world, that left both of them with a kind of hardness and bitterness.

Lance? Lance doesn’t have that. Lance’s home life was good, he’s nostalgic about his birthplace, he loves Earth. And the elemental analogies actually tell us something interesting here.

In a context where the Lions grow stronger in their “home environment”, it’s interesting to look at the mixed relationships that they have with them canonically. All of them have some real interesting stuff to say here- but with Lance in particular?

Water, as Lance knows it, is a warm tropical sea. His family home lies on the beach, Earth that he loves is a planet dominated by water- the blue planet. While Lance isn’t afraid to venture far beyond his home, into seemingly antagonistic environments- the Garrison, with its desert landscape and Iverson’s harsh criticism, an academic environment when Lance implies time and time again that he’s not exceptionally gifted or beloved of being a student- and even thrive in those, there’s the matter of almost everything Lance is sentimental about, finds comforting and nurturing and like home, comes back to the color blue, and comes back to water.

When he misses Earth, he talks about the rain, about beaches, the blue skies.

Lance’s relationship with water is healing, nurturing, and supportive- it’s a constant background in a warm, comfortable childhood to such a degree that it’s just inherently comforting. Fittingly, Blue is the first Lion we see ever achieve an obvious, elemental boost, and from the start, we see that Blue and Lance are likeminded- because one of the first things Lance paraphrases that Blue has told him is that she’s “going home”.

And this is a very harsh contrast to Sokka and Katara- Sokka who struggles with the element he’s connected to but can never quite bond with, Katara who initially has not the finest grasp of her own power but also not much confidence in the abilities that can, when she’s angry, rend glaciers. Both of them are children of a war-torn village and, given their context, it’s understandable their view of the world is just a little inhospitable. That hurt and anger is a great force for both of them.

While Lance? Even if the galra empire and the fire nation are comparable, the galra didn’t find Earth for the longest time- Lance’s first encounter with them, he was already at the helm of the Blue Lion and had the means to fight back. Which is I think the fundamental difference between Lance and either of ATLA’s water tribe siblings: Lance’s experience with his element and with the larger world has been very kindly, and so, right from the start, he has a certain confidence not necessarily in himself, but in the goodness of people and the ability of situations to work out, and that’s a tremendous asset for him.

What Lance sees in his element is the most essential thing he gives to his team. I’ve mentioned this before, but I think that fitting Lance into Avatar’s universe, I would imagine him as part of the northern water tribe, and probably a fairly weak combatant with bending itself- but an incredibly proficient healer- which works in-universe where the northern water tribe heavily considers healing women’s work, and Lance in canon seems to have a lot of female role models and genuinely admire a lot of women- it’s the root of his crush on Allura, his family picture has women of all ages and he specifically mentions his mom as someone he adores, and misses.

Lance as a waterbender with female teachers and female role models, and, consequentially, a culturally “feminine” style of bending.

It’d also fit with a lot of the narrative impressions and, to a degree, deceptions around Lance- him talking himself up as a fantastic waterbender but being pretty inept at using it to defend himself would set up the same kind of “more bark than bite” impression he gives in canon- when he is just as standout gifted as the other paladins, which becomes more apparent over time.

Of course, Lance in canon is also a very effective combatant and that I don’t think an Avatar-AU Lance would use his bending for that doesn’t mean that I think he’d be defenseless- with his ambition and drive, I could easily see him offsetting a lack of combat bending by taking up a weapon and practicing in it- maybe an ALTA-AU Lance, with his natural gift at making friends, manages to find an ex-Yuyan Archer who teaches him how to shoot really dang well.

Which, I like, since long before he ever connected with the Red Lion, it stands that even though Lance himself is thematically conflated with water and ice, again, he has no fear of fiery environments and people- even if they greet him harshly. Thematically, Lance learning a skill from someone from the fire nation not only reflects his inherent gift for connecting with people but also his ability to embrace a seemingly antithetical force to himself without much difficulty.

#voltron legendary defender #vld #Lance #ATLA #readmore #Anonymous

[greywardenisseya]

Triton Society and my Triton PC

So when I started to get into DnD I looked at all the possibilities for my first character, and the one that interested me the most was a Triton druid. So off I went googling away finding all the info I could on them. Discovering that there was barely two pages worth of info on them I had no choice but to invent it myself. So here’s that + my Triton

Triton Society

I’m writing this with the assumption that you’ve this. Everything written there also counts in this society. If you REALLY don’t want to it basically says the Triton fought evil elementals in the Plane of Water and traveled to the Material Plane when the elementals did, and have since then lived deep under the sea.

Physiology

Since Triton’s mainly live in the “deep sea trenches” chances are they don’t have many places with sunlight. That has led me to assume they have Dark Vision. (the manual say they “ ignore any of the drawbacks caused by a deep, underwater environment.” but doesn’t specify if that’s general Dark Vision). 

Plants are more or less non-existent in the deep sea due to no sunlight so I consider Triton’s obligate carnivores. There are some unique plant life however, as well as plant materials who come down from further up, and therefore decided that they can eat some kelp and other plants with their meat.

Inspired by the amazing artwork from this post I also decided that Triton’s have variations of this, some are shorter other’s longer depending on genes and adaptations.

Male Triton have overall more color variations and patterns in their skin, while female Triton’s are usually bigger.

Reach maturity age 15, body doesn’t start “decaying” until the last 30 years of their life. The only way to tell a 20 year old Triton apart from a |50 year old one is based on the amount of scars racked up after years fighting elementals and other dangerous creatures.

Culture

Triton’s have a semi-diverse culture. Not as diverse as human’s, but with enough difference to cause confusion to other species. Triton societies closer to the surface in outposts or smaller cities have adapted and integrated with the surface world. Deep Sea cultures meanwhile has little touch with races other than themselves. The most alien culture comes from the Triton’s who never left the Plane of Water. Though similar to the Deep Sea cultures, Water Triton’s have never engaged the ecosystem of the Material Plane and therefore no understanding of life in that world. (The rest of this will be about Deep Sea societies since that’s where my PC’s from)

The Triton’s sense of duty in holding of and hunting down the evil elemental’s of the Plane of Water has shaped their culture. Their society is built upon a principle of order, duty and regiment. Being a scholar, adventurous or a non-combatant isn’t necessarily looked down upon, but it’s expected that every Triton aid each other when called upon. (Think the Qun from Dragon Age, just not THAT hardcore)

The Triton’s have different roles and societal classes which can be categorized as

Leader/Royalty: The leaders or royals, depending on what city, guide their people both in war and peace. Leaders are picked from notable heroes who’ve helped their people, either through excellent fighting tactics, inventions or anyone who’ve achieved greatness for their people.

Noble: A noble Triton isn’t the same as a noble human. If you’re a noble Triton either you or your parents (while you’re still living with them/reliant on them) serve as a non-combatant, usually taking care of the running of the city. Due to the nature of this role they gain certain privileges other’s does not. (Something that’s highly disputed among Triton society, but so far has stayed the same).

Guard/Warrior: These Triton’s are the most common: They serve as the law, guardian’s and hunter’s of the Triton society. These Triton’s have the most varied lives. If you’re a personal guard of a noble you might gain privileges a warrior fighting in the ranks of a general might not. They are however heavily appreciated and for most family something to strive to become.

Artisan: Artisan’s are the most diverse class. Teachers, performers, merchants

I have more but I’ll either add that later or save it for another post

My Triton druid

He doesn’t have a name, because that’s usually the last thing I make. It would be a bit posh sounding probably, and harsh since it’s in primordial.

I imagine introducing myself going along the lines of: You see a small humanoid, carrying a spear made of some type fish bone, with a large shark teeth at the end. Wearing brown leather with short fur (it’s from sea lions) clinging to the small man’s frame, ending at the person’s knees leaving his  damp, dark blue skin exposed. His medium length green hair pulled back and braided into it, red algae of various types. On his fin-like ear hangs a strange multi-colored sea shell. (I’m not a writer, but y’all get the gist). I also imagine he has some scales or markings but I don’t know what or how it would look. So insert generic mermaid look.

Background: 22 years old. I’m not going to write a lot of it. I’m still working on it, and well if I end up playing him with someone who follows me I don’t want them finding it out. But a quick summary: Grew up in one of the deep sea cities. The fourth child to a noble woman and city guard/warrior father. Was born prematurely due to an attack on his mother while she was pregnant.

Druidism: The Triton’s doesn’t have proper druidic circles or a druidic culture (headcanon). But they have a general respect for sea life. Due to their ability to “talk” to sea animals they keep animals as pets or farm animals. Not used as cows or sheep by the surface races, Triton’s keep the animals and protect them from the danger’s of the deep, and only kill the animals when in need of food or leather. It’s through this he cultivated his cultivated his druidic abilites. He sees nature not as something that should be carefully guarded and remain untouched by “human” touch, but something to be explored and not wasted or abused for no reason, but something to be used fully. Life is a cycle, he is the continuation of that.

Personality: Very curious, especially since he came to the surface, want’s to discover the wonder’s of the surface world. Cares less of politial intrigue and cities, more important to learn how nature works on the surface. Has a journal where he writes and draws stuff he discovers, especially focused on animals. He wants to turn into them after all. Not especially intelligent, though he’s pretty wise and can be charismatic when he really tries. As is common for his people he takes what people say as the truth and can be easily fooled. 

This took a lot longer to write than I thought, but here it is. If anyone wants to make their own triton feel free to use anything here (but like link me to it if you make a post I want to see it). Same goes if people want’s do make their own triton society. If other people have ideas how their society would work reblog and add it, or since I’m a bad writer wants to rewrite this and make it better, you can do that as well.

Also @hipsterbrigadier here it is, thanks for giving me an excuse to write all this

#at first I was just gonna write about my character #but I realized a lot of the society would have to be known for that to make sense #dnd #dungeons and dragons #triton #tritons

[be-the-script]

The preposterous adventures of Agust D the mermaid hunter and his half-lamb half-cookie companion Jeon Jungkook, including the stories of the prince of the air searching for his wings and how the Yin and the Yang found their balance

← Previous Chapter

Chapter 8/10: I’m sorry my brother

Word Count: 1,794

Summary: Taehyung found his wings back!! But at what cost...

The morning passed slowly. They had all went their way, searching for Taehyung's wings, with more or less motivation depending on the guy. In the afternoon though, Jungkook surprisingly joined the air creature. He didn't really look hurt, maybe vexed, or offended.

"Hey, I'm not stupid okay?" He finally said after a silence, slightly pouting. "My father said it's because I'm learning about the world. I'm not stupid." He repeated, determined.

Taehyung was looking at him, surprised and most of all quite pleased by the younger's acceptance of his ignorance.

"It's alright, you can't know everything like that. Just make sure to be a bit more respectful, would you?"

"I'll try. But I'll still prove the fish hybrid I'm stronger than him."

Taehyung sighed.

"Jungkook, If I were you, I wouldn't look down on a creature who lives in an environment where you yourself have an average life expectancy of three minutes. Just because he doesn't have an intelligence similar to humans' doesn't mean he's stupid. He's actually able to communicate with almost all the sea life, he sees in the abyss as clear as day and despite what humans did to his kind, he doesn't hate them…"

"What did humans do?"

"Sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned that. Don't mind it please."

"It's the reason why he was crying the day you met him, right?"

"… Yes."

"If you can't tell me, I'll just ask him when he gets back."

"Please don't! It would only bring painful memories back! Even if you asked him, he would probably not answer and rather go back to the royal palace of the sea. So please don't."

Jungkook finally agreed to not try to learn more about Jimin's past. But Taehyung still felt a bit guilty for teasing the youngster with a story he wouldn't have.

"You know what? If you keep your word and if I find back my wings, I'll take you to a fly. How does that sound?"

Jungkook had his eyes shining with excitation.

"Can you carry me on another continent? Like the farthest away from my brother?"

"Well, I'm used to carry Jimin for fun, but never for so long. Maybe just to Jeju?" Taehyung answered with a little laugh. Seriously, what did Seokjin do to have his brother avoid him that much?

"As long as I'm away from the mother hen and free to explore the world, I'll take it!!" Jungkook said with a burning passion, making Taehyung laugh for good.

The five reunited in the night and even though they weren't talking about it, they all had a thought for their two comrades actually deep down in the darkness. They ate in silence, enjoying some of the food that was now filling most of Agust D's fridge. Like his fridge, Agust D's mind was filling with more and more thoughts. Like that one.

"Why did you have your wings cut in the first place?" He asked to Taehyung, making everyone realised that they had never really wondered about it.

"Well, a little disagreement with my family, that's all," Taehyung explained with a tight smile.

"What kind of disagreement? What proof do we have we're not helping a delinquent?"

The feathered young man sighed.

"I opposed my father and to keep me from spreading my ideas to others… He made sure I wouldn't be there."

"That's quite the harsh treatment for a simple disagreement."

"No, in our culture the family chief's opinion is absolute. Opposing to it is a big offense to all the family."

"Why did you do it then?"

"Because he was unfair and egoistic! I couldn't stand this anymore." Taehyung fisted his hands on his knees, anger also showing on his face.

No one tried to further the subject. They knew Taehyung was very respectful and caring but if he was angered, he would become quite violent.

The following day passed even more slowly, their research still fruitless. Taehyung came to the sea a bit before the sunset. He picked a shell, checking if its inhabitant had left and if the limestone structure was in a good state. He murmured a few words, slightly whistling - Jimin had told him it was easier to transmit. Then he jumped from rock to rock to the farthest place he could reach and he threw the shell. A few minutes later, a fish jumped out of the water, signaling him his message had been sent.

He came back to the Snail. Hoseok was once again arguing with Seokjin. The two had been quite stressed in the last days and it was probably their way to cope. However, it seemed like Jungkook was also done with them. The young man suddenly got up and hit his two elders on the head, making them fall on their knees while holding their hurting skull. Once he was done, the bunny-teethed boy came back to his sit, resuming eating his cookies.

"If you can eat anything, why do you keep eating those things?" Agust D asked as he himself wasn't a fan of sweet things.

"Cookies make him stronger. They also help him heal if he's hurt." Seokjin answered instead, still massaging the top of his head.

"He's the cutest of us all but I have a feeling he's also the scariest, isn't he?" Hoseok added, now looking warily at the boy focused on eating.

"Well, I think he's a good kid." Agust D said, remembering how the boy would always carry him if he got tired.

As they obviously weren't in the mood to sleep, they decided to rather wait for Namjoon and Jimin. Seokjin amused everyone with little tricks, making Cucurbitaceae seeds grow in all kind of things like an armchair, a cat plushy or a gold sculpture of himself - Seokjin still wonders why it made them laugh so much, it was really good looking and of the most refined taste, those guys must be insensitive brutes unable to appreciate art.

It was almost dawn when Namjoon and Jimin came back, safe and sound. Hoseok had never seen his brother so lively - even though it was still quite calm compared to other people, - especially when he told them about the royal palace of the Sea Kingdom, a gigantic coral atop an even more gigantic turtle. The whole palace had come to them after their travel in the deep end of the Trench to help them cross the Kuroshio current that passed between the Trench and South Korea. He was mainly talking about their comeback because he couldn't remember anything of what had happened in the Trench. And Jimin didn't seem in the mood to tell them, hugging Taehyung's waist while this one was gently caressing his hair.

They ended celebrating the success of the operation with a copious breakfast prepared by Hoseok and Seokjin - who were best friends now that the stress was gone. Agust D took part in the party even though he was wondering more and more how he had ended in that situation, putting five people up in his Snail and crossing South Korea searching for wings. It wasn't that he didn't like it, he was just really used to his calm place, surrounded by his movies and his novels. On that subject, Hoseok had gained a lot of popularity in his heart after he had taken the time to tidy all his possessions - in exchange for having destroyed his precious baseball ball he had said.

"Hurry up or I'm leaving you here!!" Agust D yelled from the driver seat of his truck to Seokjin who had gone picking up little flowers, ignoring Jungkook's murmurs next to him telling him to "do it! Leave him!"

The wizard took his wand out and after a "Calycophysum" his feet propelled him next to the truck. He climbed and they could finally head to their next destination: Pohang. During the trip, Seokjin checked Taehyung's scars and sadly noticed that they were starting to heal, closing the skin and the hope of the poor birdman.

Pohang was the city with the easternmost point in the country. It was the first South Korean place to see the sunrise every day and it had a famous summer festival. It was also the place where the Hand of Coexistence had been erected, to the greatest joy of Jimin who jumped around the immense hand as soon as he saw it.

The rest of the team had joined him almost an hour later as they had been forced to stop at a gas station on the way. And optionally to respect the Highway Code.

It was already late in the afternoon but they had barely the time to come out of the Snail when a loud and piercing song came from the sea. Even though they couldn't understand it, they knew it came from Jimin and that it must have been important. They all hurried toward the sea, orientating themselves thanks to the continuing song. They all grouped at the top of a cliff, the place gladly empty of tourist as it was nearing the sunset.

Jimin was down there, excitedly pointing a point on the stone wall. They looked and indeed here they were!! A pair of wings, lying on a cornice, unaltered apart from a light discoloration if compared with Taehyung's arms.

Now was coming the delicate task of recovering them. They were too high for the merman and too low for the others. Seokjin quickly picked a seed from his pocket, he put it in the soil and claimed "Polyclathra" while gesturing his wand in a complex figure. The seed quickly grew into a strong climber. 

Taehyung wanted to go himself but Jungkook was quicker. The young boy easily went down, delicately took hold of the mass of feathers and let himself be lifted up by the others, so he could securely hold his treasure.

Taehyung received his belongings with tears in his eyes, his heart bursting with emotion at the sight of his precious limbs. As soon as the wave of emotion passed, he quickly knelt to sew the feathers back to his skin with a string and a needle he had on him, showing an impressive dexterity while doing so. As he sewed, the wings recovered their initial color.

He sewed the last point. He slowly stood up and opened the wings, enjoying the feeling.

But it was short-lived as soon after, another cry came from the sea, horrified this time. No one understood and when they tried to look down Jimin was quickly swimming away. And then they turned to Taehyung, finally facing him, after being in his back to watch the healing process. The inside of his wings were splashed with blood.

Next chapter→

#BTS #Bangtan #BTS fanfiction #Jimin #Taehyung #the drama was supposed to stay in the background #I failed