Because these things always have a lower turnout, and I really, really want to write some of my OCs right now.
Rules
- Three slots per person, five slots if you're one of my people1- Prompts must include fandom and what side you want me to write an OC from, assuming sides are relevant to the fandom. (Autobot/Decepticon/neutral, Earth/Water/Fire/
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Fire - I know what I am / and I'm your villain / although I don't give a damn if / I'm your villain
Water - oh, kiss me beneath the milky twilight / lead me out on the moonlit floor / lift your open hand / strike up the band and make the fireflies dance / silver moon's sparkling / so kiss me
Air - do you know, tomorrow I'll be gone / I need to run away from who I am / and you know it's a pretty world outside / but take a look within / my heart is worn out
Fire - when the spark reaches powder I will blow up / I'll become the mist you breathe into your lungs / all of my love will then turn into yours / and you will feel hope bleeding out from your pores
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As for not striking back... She's a young bride, and this is her husband. And this was the first time he hit her, so she's willing to let it slide. (Also, possibly I just suck.)
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Earth, spring equinox
Water, water of life
Air, perfect storm
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She heaves the chamberpot at him. "Don't come back, never come back!"
It takes him three days to figure out she really, truly means it. He's fourteen, black and blue with bruises, one eye swollen shut. His clothes are filthy, he has no shoes, and he's hungry.
He scrounges scraps from a neighbor's piggoose slops, then he walks out in the middle of the dirt road that runs through his village. He doesn't know what lies in either direction, except that the Fire Nation folks always come with the rising sun.
He turns to the setting sun, and he walks. Walking becomes jogging, jogging becomes running, and he's suddenly aware of his breathing. Each drag of air inside, each push of it back out. It echoes in his head, in the world around him, in the rustle of leaves and the stirring of grass, in the clouds scudding across ( ... )
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That is so amazing. The description is fantastic.
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Ketu's family situation is really disturbing (also intriguing, with the bit about him having "fire eyes.") The description of him flying away really captures a sense of escape and freedom and emerging power.
This also touches on two things I've always been curious about: how bending ability manifests and how social factors affect bending ability. (No one is expecting new air benders, so it makes sense that a new air bender wouldn't realize he was one for a while.)
Thanks very much!
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2. Star Wars, Imperials - "Where were you when the Death Star exploded?"
3. Dresden Files, whatever the heck kind of OCs you have there - "a black witch and green knight"
4. G1, Decepticons - "We're falling to pieces and that's why we're hunting you down/While you're falling from heaven we rise from the underground"
5. G1, Autobots or Junkions - "Grass grows, birds fly, sun shines, and brotha', I hurt people."
Bonus: uuuuh, gimme G1 Alkali, if you think you can manage her - "Give me a shot to remember/And you can take all the pain away from me/Your kiss and I will surrender/The sharpest lives are the deadliest to lead"
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Loyalty is a thing of beauty and terror here, likely a finely honed knife. :)
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"Did you hear?" Someone said, and he grunted something that they didn't take as acknowledgment. "Rebels destroyed the Death Star!"
"Nngh."
"I heard," someone else said, "That we're getting posted to hunt down their new base."
"How can they have a new base yet?" Yet another person said, and Dave wondered how the hell everyone else was awake enough to even talk.
"The attack on the Death Star surely revealed their old base," the first person snapped, sounding a little frayed around the edges. "So they have to have set up somewhere new. Somewhere they think we'll never ever find them. But we will."
Dave nodded agreement and slipped into sleep. His dreams were full of snow.
And thus Dave embarks on the first campaign in the TIE Fighter game.
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Sometimes all he can do is go through the motions. Sometimes he pulls other people in - Kiet, his lovers, Bae, Liu, Hyo, anyone to give him a bit of connection. As long as there are other people around, he's doing all right, isn't he?
'The songs in your music boxes are all sad,' Liu scribes on the wall one day.
Xin Wan blinks, and everything almost shatters.
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Special Agent Rahne could turn it off. But she let it come down. It soaked her clothing, her hair, her skin. Cosmetic, but she appreciated the complexity of programming and design that allowed even Agents such cosmetic changes.
Her heels clicked against the wet pavement.
The Zionist was wounded. She saw the trail his ruptured imaging code left in the strands of programming.
She'd shot him, and he was dying faster than he could get to the disconnect point.
(She'd shot the one rebel who fascinated her, the one that made her something outside of her assigned tasks.
But that way lay Exile, at best.)
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