Summary: Dean and Sam like what they have together, and if screwing your brother screws with the universe’s “grand plan” while they’re at it, then even better. Neither of them has ever cared much for tradition or fate, but it turns out there are some destinies you can’t escape. Sometimes, someone is just made for you.
Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Unpresented!Sam Rating: 18+ Warnings: Incest Tags: Omegaverse, growing up, Sam’s curious, Dean answers his questions, because he’s a good big brother Word Count:947 Created For:@spnabobingo - Free Space
For as long as Dean could remember, his little brother had always been full of questions.
Of course, when he was two, Sam had gone through the typical toddler phase of asking “why?” after every single thing his big brother said. It had taken a lot out of six-year-old Dean not to just shove the kid out of his way and hide somewhere no one could ever ask him “why?” again. Then when he was a little older, and started to notice more and more about the world he lived in, the questions morphed into: Where does Dad go all the time? Why isn’t he back yet? What is the shotgun doing under your pillow?
[image ID: a collage in a sketchbook. A quote at the top reads, “the way you hold a cigarette because you don’t know what to do with your hands when we’re sitting this close. Near the bottom it reads, “But is that all you and Sokka were to one another? No, I think not.” These quotes sit on top of drawings of hands, a paper fortune, paint swatches of various blue tones, and other scraps of blue cutouts from pamphlets. /End ID.]
Hands have always occupied a unique space in my heart. The way they can offer gestures of friendship and love, alike. The way time seems to stop when you sit next to someone and the gravity around their hands is just too much. The way you end up doing what the poets have been writing about for centuries. You are, in fact, holding hands.
enjoy this collage of things that scream zukka to me. including lots of, well, hands.
(Based in the AU of @blakeblueboi that he “transfer” to me xd )
“In a world where the Water Tribes attack and become the Water Empire. Where they sank half of the Earth Kingdom, who still fights them. Where the Air Nomads stayed neutral, turning away from the world.
Where Sokka’s father left and his mother became Empress, and also made him a scar.
In which Zuko and Azula lost ther father and their mother went to fight.
And The Avatar was gone…until the brothers find a ruddy little girl who is the Avatar.”
Here Zuko is a little sunshine boy and Sokka is a kind of emo boy, both in love with each other (right person, wrong moment). The drawing is in Book 2, “Tales of Ba Sing Se” where Zukka is having a date, being just teenagers❤
(Yes, another story I wanted to draw and also write, please remember me to do it xd)
AU: In which Sokka kept the Kyoshi make-up/dress and forms a strange relationship with the one called Blue Spirit.
Or a mix of Day One and Day Five of the Zukka Week, my contribution for day seven: Free Space!
_________
They met in the rain. There in the tall slender trees as the pouring sky, no doubt, ran crevices down his Kyoshi make-up, and the pouring rain streaming down the other’s wooden, haunting mask.
…
Sokka is not unfamiliar with storms, in his tribe he saw blizzards that turned the world white, coupled with a ferocious wind that would threaten to tear apart anything in its wake. Push and pull. How the sun was blocked by those clouds so completely that it swallowed the day and how, if for a moment, those storms cradled the world with its ice and its blue mania. If not that, he knew stories of his people who had long passed of ships against hurricanes and typhoons, the thrashing of the waters that of which they survived, if barely. Push and pull.
So no, it wasn’t the intensity of the storm that Sokka found alarming: what with how the trees bend and thrashed like seaweed in the current, the consuming; soot-colored clouds, the bellowing thunder, and nor how the lighting fractured the sky like fine pottery. No, Sokka knew how to withstand the storm. But the smell of wet soil was new, and so too was the vibrancy of the leaves and all things green. This was what drew him out to the storm in the first place with an unfamiliar and childlike curiosity that occurred all-too-infrequently.
But as he closed his eyes—the sound of rain reminding him of home, even if the patter of the water hitting the earth differed from the crunch of snow or how the warm humid air settled heavy in his lungs given his childhood of crisp air—someone in the dark watched.
…
There they stood at a stand-still, Sokka adorned with his Kyoshi gold headdress and matching fans ready, eyes hard and set and the masked stranger stood, both unrelenting and yet no weapons in his hand. Lightning strikes, and from the other’s back, the stranger draws out dual blades, the flash of light reflecting harshly against its steel. As Sokka’s muscles coiled, his eyes widened, and his breath stuttered; the masked stranger raised the blades high, only to impale them into the dirt with a roll of thunder. A knee and hands on the soil, it looks as though the other is bowing, though why would be beyond Sokka.
Sokka stutters his fans close, eyes wavering over the dark-clothed figure. “Can you speak?”
The wind flutters his dress, but other than that, silence. Sokka supposes not.
It feels awkward to stand there as the other kneels, so as slowly as one does to cornered animals, Sokka bends down into the mud and grasps the stranger’s hand; guiding the other back to a standing position. Sokka is met with no resistance other than the stranger’s slight stutter in breath, as the angle of the other’s jaw suggests that they are looking at each other eye-to-eye.
For a moment, neither let go. For a moment, neither look away. For a moment, Sokka, oddly, forgets that he’s in a storm. Lightning struck, thunder bellowed, and it went dark.
Then of course, the moment passes. Lightning’s brilliance brings light back into the world and when it does, Sokka’s hand is empty and the stranger is gone. Nothing to say that the stranger was ever there except for the deep wet gashes in the mud where the swords once stood.
…
When Zuko is more than far away, he rips off the hood and mask to curse.
He had one job, to infiltrate Kyoshi island and to find any information he could. He was not supposed to observe the sole Kyoshi warrior in the rain. Paralyzed as if spirit-struck as the young woman watched the rain with a joy rarely found, let alone observed, in this time of war. With how she stood against the storm with such ease, Zuko had then thought to have accidentally found some wandering spirit, or ghost. He tossed aside the swords easily, for he was a trespasser with what a Kyoshi would consider as ill intent, and while he pretended otherwise, he still listened to his uncle in regards to how one treats spirits.
But the Kyoshi warrior held out her hand, which while gloved, was still warm and could be little else than human.
Still, the gentleness was startling. And even when confronted with her obvious humanity, Zuko couldn’t tear himself away from her gaze. Dark blue eyes that reflected the hurricanes he’s seen in travels past. His heart had stuttered, he had held his breath.
Which, was stupid of him. Practically playing out in his mother’s plays or his uncle’s recited romances.
At these thoughts, Zuko’s face burned, and now he doesn’t know what’s worse: his behavior, or the fact that he wants to see to her again.
Keep Me Afloat Chapters: 1/1 Fandom:Avatar: The Last Airbender Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar) Characters: Sokka (Avatar), Zuko (Avatar) Additional Tags: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, jerk to jerk communication, Zukka Week 2022 (Avatar), Gay Zuko (Avatar), Protective Zuko (Avatar), Bisexual Sokka (Avatar), Sokka Has Chronic Pain (Avatar), Deaf Zuko (Avatar), Alternate Universe - Modern with Bending (Avatar), Sokka Uses a Cane (Avatar), Established Relationship, bathtub makeouts my beloved Summary: A lazy breeze blows through the sheer curtains and into the bathroom. It carries with it the music of a small radio on the windowsill. The cool wind meanders around the room, harmonizing into a perfect melody with the steam rising from the tub. There, the weary body of Sokka rests, stripped down to just skin and aches. He’d spent all week waiting for this. Or Sokka finally has a day off and Zuko dotes on him while he takes a bath. __ For@zukkaweek Day 7, Free Space header by my beloved platonic partner<333
![A short pamphlet on feminist organizing by Pamela Allen [radfem.org]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m8daqtLknf1r6001po1_400.jpg "A short pamphlet on feminist organizing by Pamela Allen [radfem.org]")
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