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4 yrs ago
Current That's being a writer sometimes, man.
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4 yrs ago
Because they can't be apart.
5 yrs ago
We should PUSH the climate SOMEWHERE ELSE!
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6 yrs ago
R.I.P. XXX
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6 yrs ago
I hoped you were lying Odin. Fuck... anyone but him.

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All Korra’s hopes of departure were dashed with Bolin’s bold refusal.

She had barely gone up five steps before he began to snap at her, prompting her to stop mid-step. She kept still with her eyes forward as he attracted the attention of the nearby spectators. The hot flush of embarrassment at the sudden attention was felt dancing across her skin, but she didn’t bother responding, nor did she continue walking. If this was going to be how Bolin wanted to handle their dilemma, she would let him make that choice, and she would make the choice of not being a part of this argument. Proportions now blown, all that was left for her to do was grit her teeth and bear the brunt of pain his anger had brought her.

Bolin was supportive of her until now, something she was never going to deny him. He went on, saying she changed, that she wasn’t the girl he thought she was, that she was selfish, self-centered, arrogant, and probably much more awful things. Not only did he see fit to cut her down publicly, but Bolin also felt it sensible that the situation among the Fire Ferrets be made known, loud and clear. What happened between Mako and herself was no one’s business. Bolin felt differently.

Korra turned sharply and glared at him through teary eyes, holding herself back from spitting the same venom he did. Her hands were clenched so tightly that they grew numb; she trembled where she stood, bit back from retorting, and endured every blow Bolin gave her.

He was wrong. She cared about Mako and Asami both, but Mako did come to her that night when he could be anywhere else at the time, like with the girlfriend he supposedly loved so much. Somewhere inside she knew that Mako felt something for her, something that Asami didn’t have or couldn’t quite give him. It was Bolin who couldn’t see the situation for what it was, and it took every ounce of willpower she had not to give him the pleasure of seeing her argue with him again. Since he chose to be the one to lash out, he should do it alone. She would take comfort in the truth.

His final piece was the one she did not prepare for. The very moment he spoke of Mako’s regret and trying to work things out with Asami, her rage melted into shock and confusion. Her wet eyes peered searchingly into Bolin’s to trace for a lie, yet no sign of it was found. He stood firm behind the words he spoke, and in any other situation she would find no reason to think of him as a liar. But this was different – it was about her happiness, something he wanted to take away from her. Because he was hurt, he wanted to hurt her back. That was the only explanation that made sense to her now.

“You’re lying,” she said shakily, managing a faux smile of confidence. “Mako’s just—“

An explosion from the arena ceiling cut everything between them short. Simultaneously, several things occurred: Black cables descended from the dark smoke of the crumbling ceiling, followed by a few canisters that hit the arena center and engulfed it in white smoke. The bystanders of the arena, fearing what was coming, scrambled for all available exits only to discover that they were now barred shut. Several men and women across the bleachers stood calmly and proceeded to stand closely to the arena, waiting for a sign of some kind. Lastly, the announcer for the game had been heard yelping from up high; she could just barely make out the silhouette of a masked figure with an electrified glove standing in place of the unconscious Shiro Shinobi, donning a familiar uniform and mask.

Equalists.

Looking down at the dissipating smoke, Korra could make out several men. At the very center was their leader and the source of all her most recent fears since their very brief encounter on Aang Memorial Island: Amon. He was backed by a handful of men, some of which held one of the teams – the Wolfbats – hostage, electrified gloves gripping their uncovered heads. The fear of what was happening and what would happen to them was plain in their eyes. She knew Tahno and his team as a gang of arrogant jerks, but no one deserved what Amon was prepared to do to them.

Before she could try and formulate a plan with Bolin, he raised a platform of earth from the splintered material that fell from the crumbling ceiling and charged ahead. He was fearless in his efforts to confront Amon, but his escort proved more than enough to handle him. It had only taken one enemy to gain his attention. Another of many had slipped down the dark cables above, throwing two metallic discs at Bolin the moment he set his feet on the ground. Two braided cables freed themselves from the discs and wrapped around Bolin’s ankles and his arms, securing his limbs in place and emitting an electric current that brought his rampage to a swift halt.

In a single minute, everything had changed. Now she was one of many, fearful of what was to come next. Amon’s introduction came after Bolin was subdued, and then every eye within the stadium fell to her still, awestruck form.

Could she really do this? Korra wondered, the only sound in the arena now was the beating of her own heart. She swallowed hard and considered what few options were left to her. There was no escaping Amon this time. And as much as he hurt her, she wouldn’t—no, she couldn’t leave Bolin to face Amon’s wrath. Everywhere she looked were eyes brimming with fear, and a select few with hope. Everyone was counting on her, counting on the Avatar, to end this threat and to set things right.

There was no other option but to fight.

“Is something the matter, Avatar Korra?” Amon asked, his booming voice echoing around the arena. “Do you intend to flee?”

Wiping away what stray tears remained within her eyes, Korra straightened her posture and descended the staircase towards the platform Bolin created. “No,” she replied firmly. Even though she feared him, no one could see her frightened at a time like this. “Are your followers joining in this time, or do you actually plan to fight me yourself?”

“You speak as if that makes the outcome any different.” Amon watched her carefully. Once she stepped foot on the arena floor, he casually waved his hand back, prompting the Equalist group to take their hostages and step away towards the edge of the arena. Bolin unwillingly joined them, dragged by his feet. With enough space to move, Amon began to pace and flex his knuckles. Several sharp pops could be heard. “I told you before that you would be the last bender I destroy to bring about my new era. But I’ve had a change of heart.” He stopped and rolled his neck, causing several pops to be heard once again. “You’re tenacious. And that tenacity is going to be problematic. You’re going to learn your place right here and now.”

His confidence was unshakable, and Korra was certain that his strength could back up his words with ease. She was nervous, and that was something she could admit to herself. Her whole body shook as sweat built on the surface of her bare skin. Even with three elements at her disposal to Amon’s none, she didn’t feel strong. Amon’s confidence wasn’t her own. She was unprepared for him and she knew it. Despite these facts, Korra bent her knees and prepared herself for the fight that would determine the fate of benders everywhere.

“You’re shaking,” Amon pointed out. “Are you frightened, Korra?”

“…No,” she lied quietly. “This won’t be like last time, Amon.”

“I agree. This is going to be much worse than before.”

Korra unleashed a stream of flame from her right fist, accompanied by a cry that deafened all who watched on…

~-~-~


Mako had run over a dozen conversations in his head prior to arriving in the park with a single rose wrapped in hand, and none of the outcomes made him feel any more hopeful about how this chat was going to begin. For most of the day he paced at home and scolded himself for everything that led to this moment. If he just minded his own business and left Bolin to experience Korra himself, then he could be at home with Asami right now, cozy by the fireplace, or maybe just a walk through the very park where he stood now. Anything was better than the anxiety that choked him by the neck. He checked his breath out of habit a multitude of times, debated on combing his hair, and thought about dressing up prim and proper for her before getting here.

Thankfully, he had come to his senses. Looking better didn’t change how she felt about him, but it was the only distraction he had from her teary eyes that he still saw when he closed his own. The pit in his stomach felt endless. He could hardly eat throughout the day. Getting sleep didn’t work much better. All he did was wait until the sun began falling to make his move, only being reminded of the things he could be doing with her now. Watching this sunset with her hand in his was just one of many outcomes he’d prefer on a list of intimate moments. He’d even throw fighting Equalists with her on that list. Anything was better than feeling hopeless.

But in his self-made depression, he knew that Asami felt far worse. Now a decision had to be made, one that determined the fate of their relationship as they knew it.

Asami was a jewel in a sea of sand. Because of that, it didn’t take long to find her resting against her vehicle. Mako made his approach with his arms behind his back, concealing the rose. “Hey, Asami!” He called out to her with a smile. “Sorry if I kept you too long. Sundown isn’t much of an… indicator… of time…so, you know… didn’t really know what the time was.”

‘Great start, Mako. Great start...’

“I bought you something,” he said, bringing the rose forward, wrapped in simple white paper. Despite its lack of friends, it still bloomed strong and stood out, much like Asami always did to him. “I know it doesn’t make up for everything I did recently. They had another rose there – sapphire, I think the guy said – but I didn’t have the money for something like that. I always thought red was more your color anyway, s-so… for you. Here.”
Next time just edit your first template and don't repost it. Thanks.
@FiroIV

What does social mean when compared with cold as personality traits? You just talk to be rude, or...?
@Emuxe There are a couple details you forgot under Uncertainties.
That post was a pain in my ass, let me tell you...
Kazuya Yamamura arrived promptly to Meioh each day, maintained focus during lessons, and was never shy about admitting struggles to his instructors. His uniform was always in pristine condition, and his brown bowl cut never had a single hair out of place. Deep brown eyes were kept behind rounded glasses with a slight dip in the left side of his frames, a noticeable contrast to how neatly he kept just about everything else regarding himself. Average build, average height, but a good heart and always willing to lend a helping hand during study hall should anyone need it.

It was difficult for Kurama to believe that he had been the one under control all this time, considering there was no hint other than the two he had just given him. Beyond calling him by the other identities he was known as, and by releasing blatant demon energy, Kazuya was just sitting there with a smile of contentedness. His things were gathered in the bag beside his chair, leaving him room to rest his elbows on the desk while his hands served as a rest for his chin. To those that could not recognize the change in energy, Kazuya was just his usual, happy self.

Their stares pierced each other for what felt like hours when only several seconds passed. Kazuya was the first between them to break the stare, letting a chuckle escape his lips while his eyes closed shut. “You must have questions.”

“A great deal many,” Kurama replied. “You must already know several that I want to ask you.”

“Why do you hesitate then?”

“Because the chances of getting the answers I want are miniscule at best. I could tell from the moment our eyes met that you’d enjoy my ignorance. Maybe more than the sick game you play with students here.”

A chuckle hummed in Kazuya’s throat. “I have better ways to entertain myself than toying with adolescent humans. I have you. That’s all this has been about. Well, the “real” you.” Placing both his hands on the desk, Kazuya slowly stood up and fell into a relaxed stance; hands in pockets, shoulders slouched, and eyes half-shut. “You’re tense. Not just your body, but your spirit energy… it’s starting to perk up a little. You aren’t sure if you want to attack me. That’s it, right?”

Try as Kurama might to deny him the pleasure of understanding this, he could do nothing to suppress his guard from the senses of a worthy opponent. The last time he felt such tension had been against his final opponent, Karasu, in the Dark Tournament. This orchestrator of the tragedies in Meioh knew much more than he should have just by spying on him at school. ‘He's been watching me for a long time. I haven’t been prepared for case work from Koenma, but regardless… how can I only feel him now, when he wants to be spotted?’

“You’ve been watching us – watching me. Why is that?” Kurama muttered curiously. “This isn’t a chance encounter. Even knowing who I am, you still insist on standing there so composed. You aren’t afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid of many things,” Kazuya replied, reaching down for his bag and stepping away towards the row of windows beside him. Turning his back towards Kurama would have been risky for the average person. He felt no such fear. “Least of all you, Shuichi Minamino. You’re no one; the straight-A student, the lust for girls, the envy of boys, and an all-around bore. Should I fear someone who has no hope of touching me?”

Biting back a retort, Kurama stared hard at the back of the enemy and analyzed his words. A fearless gesture with a strong response. Who controlled Kazuya now was not someone easily frightened. “I suppose not,” he started quietly. “But you still chose to make your presence known, still chose to target this ‘bore’.”

“Shuichi, you’ve got it all wrong.” Kazuna shook his head. “You? You’re not special on your own. What makes you special is the person inhabiting you.”

Yoko Kurama. His ‘true’ self beneath the flesh. More questions were lined up—again, with little possibility of helpful answers.

“This body may be Shuichi Minamino, but the person you’re speaking to is the very Yoko Kurama you’re after.”

“That’s a poor lie.”

“I am not telling any lies. You’re speaking to the one you seek to confront.”

“Then show me.” Kazuna turned around, his eyes now wider and more watchful than before. His posture straightened, however his free hand did not leave its pocket. “Free yourself of this pitiful shell. Show me the true you.”

“I can’t do that.”

His face tensed with subtle frustration. “Don’t try to toy with me. Draw on the energy necessary to bring forth your true body, your true feelings. You did so during the tournament. Do so again.”

“With the help of an item, an item I received from another. An item I have no more of. Whatever confrontation you hope to have isn’t going to come by hurting the innocent at this school. This is me whether you want it to be or not.”

The energy in the room shifted to something darker and far more menacing. Kurama noted the lines across Kazuya’s face and could tell that he, like himself, was considering his options with the knowledge he had received. Dissatisfaction. Anger perhaps. What Kurama anticipated was another fruitless demand, yet Kazuya’s possessor saw the same uselessness in it as he did. It did him no good to lie about his lack of change. Try as he might to transform of his own accord, his efforts never bore results. Bonding with Shuichi for so long had made such power difficult to draw on without there already being plentiful amounts of demon energy surrounding him, more than this one seemed to be able to muster on his own.

As quickly as it had come, the energy within the room had died down, little by little, until only a small aura remained around Kazuya himself. “That’s… disappointing, Yoko. Very disappointing.” Kazuna spoke through gritted teeth and a darkened visage. “You’ve become soft in this world. Tell me, do you ever plan to return to your former glory? Or is the daily chore of human education and boot licking more appealing to you now?”

Nothing of Kurama’s shifted at his taunts, which only irritated Kazuna further.

“Stoic as always.” Kazuya scoffed. The hard lines on his face retreated, leaving him relaxed and visibly unburdened by frustration. “I thought that you would have some concern over the fate of you dead fellows. I overestimated your desire to protect these people. But surely you realize that you are incapable of dealing with someone like me in your current form.”

“I manage,” Kurama replied simply. “What I can’t understand is why you chose not to do this in the first place. You took the lives of innocent people, even moved against Botan knowing what she really is. You’re confident enough to turn your back on me, yet you don’t seek to face me yourself. Instead, all you’ve done is try to get underneath my skin and belittle a life I’ve come to appreciate. Without this appearance, I would still be hunting you down… perhaps not ever finding you. You wouldn’t have revealed yourself without a purpose.”

Kazuya smirked, satisfied with Kurama’s summary. “You honor me by admitting your ignorance, but I suspect that without your pitiful human qualities you would have the instinct to understand the situation fully by now.” He stepped towards Kurama, noted his stance did not change, and continued towards him until he was an arm’s length away. The intensity in Kurama’s eyes was enough to send chills down this borrowed body’s spine, but Kazuya savored seeing the brilliant mind of a worthy foe at work through the light of their eyes. “You need a push, Yoko. Free yourself from this mundane existence. You’re a demon—a legend—and you choose to stay here and play human. I’m only showing you what living as you are is going to mean until then. Suppressing yourself is no longer going to be an option.”

There was so much he could take from the words spoken to him. Kurama knew that spirit energy would not be enough to win this confrontation. He lacked the vast knowledge of Genkai to draw out a hostile spirit from another body. Even worse, a part of him was becoming angered. To be respected and at the exact same time insulted for his decisions and his position in the body of a human, all for a mother who he loved deeply. He could not fight this, nor could he bother asking another question.

“A push.” Kurama repeated. “You’re after— “

His expressionless demeanor shattered like broken glass against the ground. Everything, from the first exposure of his demon energy, to his taunts, to his tidbits of information, led him to the answer of why he had chosen to reveal himself: Distraction.

“She’s running out of air,” Kazuya said in a hushed, harsh whisper. A dark grin took form. “Better move fast, human.”

Kurama spun around and pushed the door aside, nearly snapping it from its hinges in his haste and almost colliding with two classmates. Over the sound of the wind passing his ears he had heard two key words; girlfriend, and swim. It wasn’t difficult to put together Kazuya’s hint before, but the two had confirmed the theory of where Botan had fled to. Jumping from the roof or any balcony was too high-profile, and cutting her wrist was too quick. Drowning Botan was the push.

He accelerated down the staircase and made no attempt to silence his harsh footsteps pushing against the ground with as much strength as his body would allow, rushing down the staircases and forcing his way through doors leading to the school pool. Upon entering, his eyes spotted the still body of Botan within. The weak, barely visible ripples in the pool added another layer of dread in his already aching heart.

He dove into the water with a crash and swam furiously through the cold water. He reached her in seconds, collecting her body with an arm coming under her knees and another beneath her arms and around her back. Touching down on the floor of the pool, he collected a plentiful amount of spirit energy to his foot and, with a powerful stomp, kicked off the ground and flew towards the surface, emerging several feet above the water and soaring towards the ground beneath empty bleachers.

He set her down with great care without sacrificing his speed, drawing two fingers to her neck to check for a pulse. It was a weak one, but present. She wasn’t gone yet. “Hang on!” Kurama cried in distress. If Botan could have somehow heard him, he hoped deeply that she was fighting until the very end to stay alive. He tilted her head first to the left, then the right, letting any water stuck in her airways seep out of her nose and mouth. He then tilted her head back and pinched her nose, inhaled deeply, and then placed his mouth over her own. Blowing hard, all strength he could gather in his lungs was thrust into her.

‘One… two… three…four…’ Kurama counted each breath pushed into her body. ‘Please, let this work!’
Hmm, kinda interested, I'm unfamiliar with the source material and slice of life isn't usually my thing, but I do like supernatural RPs and the relatively relaxed posting schedule would suit me.


The source material isn't too complicated and slice-of-life is going to be temporary if I know Genkai. Stick around, we'll help you through any questions and concerns.

Still accepting, folks!
No it wasn't great. It wasn't all bad but it was inferior to the original. I think a lot of people can agree with that. Also why the fuck didn't we hear about Sokka and Suki?
But they're ROLLING in that shit, boiiiiii~~~
They're doing some comic with Korra and Asami I heard, but for obvious reasons I don't give a shit.
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