Apr 16, 2017
honestly imagine shado and nyssa as co-heads of the league of assassins--nyssa as ra's and shado as her wife and equal
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honestly imagine shado and nyssa as co-heads of the league of assassins--nyssa as ra's and shado as her wife and equal
Femslash February Moodboards (19/?) Nyssa al Ghul/Shado
Ok I was trying to hold back from being such an unrepentant ho for my ladies but--Shado and Nyssa, the taste of clean water when you're desperately thirsty
Apologies in advance for any mistakes due to Google translate. Corrections are absolutely welcome!
Shado was going to die.
She knew this as surely as she did not know where it was to happen norwhen, only that it was going to take a long and painful while. In thisinstance, she wished she had not been instilled with her father’s instinct tosurvive; it would have been better to have drowned in the wreckage of the Amazothan to have struggled onto this floating funeral pyre.
She was wracked with shivers, though the skin on her bare arms, neck,and face blistered under the glare of an unrelenting sun. The hood she had wornin honor of Bà had been torn from hershoulders when Oliver had made a vain reach for her tumbling out of sight offthe ship’s port side. She wondered, in a distant sort of way, what had becomeof him. Would he have perished? Or would he have fought with every bit ofstrength she had taught him? Was he, too, floating somewhere, lost at sea onceagain and gazing at a woman’s photograph while he waited to die?
Shado had no photos. She had the memory of Mei, sweet Mei waiting andwondering in Hong Kong, and of Bà restingin a grave marked only by a single stone. She had eyes squinting at the sun andretinas that burned. She had her shallow breaths that were pushed out past dry,cracked lips tasting of salt. Her tongue sat heavy and useless, and an urge toswallow nonexistent saliva left her hacking and gasping for more salty air.
She didn’t know how she passed the slow, rocking hours. Her mind seemedto shut itself down in some last effort of self-preservation or perhaps simplybecause it couldn’t take it any longer. It became only sluggishly aware thanthe bobbing of her makeshift raft on the waves had stopped, and that the sun nolonger beat down uninterrupted on her exposed form.
Instead, something stood over her, blocking the light’s path. What wasleft of her strength had her tensing instinctually, even as she knew her fightor flight response was of little use with the state she was in. It matteredlittle what the stranger would do to her; she was powerless to stop thatunknown fate.
“Bùyào dòng.”
Her eyes fluttered open in shock. It was her language, her own languageshe had been teaching Oliver just to hear it from someone else, and spoken witha degree of confidence he hadn’t quite mastered. She stilled just as the voicehad requested, her ragged breaths evening out of their own accord.
The woman—for it was a woman, crouched at her side. The lip of a flaskwas pressed to Shado’s lips.
“Hē,” the voice commanded, softbut firm.
A single drop of whatever it contained spilled over to fall on hersandpaper tongue. It burst cool and clear in her mouth, a spark of life, andsuddenly Shado realized she did not want nor was going to die.
“Shuǐ,” She rasped. She’dforgotten what water tasted like, and now it was the sweetest thing she’d everknown.
An arm was braced under her, tilting her up towards the flask. “Shì.”
Mustering her remaining energy she raised her head, greedily lickingand letting the water soak her tongue and run down her jaw. Shado drank anddrank and it would never be enough—but her rescuer at last pulled the flaskaway.
“Qǐng.” Hoarse as it stillwas, she was starting to recognize her own voice. Shado’s held fell back, eyespleading—and that was the first she truly glimpsed her rescuer.
The woman was…striking. She wore a hood and a covering over her noseand mouth, but the eyes alone were bright and piercing. Slung over her back wasa bow and quiver full of arrows; she realized she knew not what had happened toher own, nor where she was, nor who this woman was.
“Please,” she repeated quietly.
“You require more than water,” her rescuer stated. With one fluidmotion she had inserted her other arm beneath Shado’s knees, then stood with herheld securely in a carry. Shado’s head fell against the woman’s chest, her eyesslipping shut again.
With her trust placed fully in this stranger whoshowed her kindness in another strange land, she would make Bà proud. She would survive.
send me (a) character(s) + a concrete image and i’ll do a thing
Have u ever thought about Shado and Nyssa as a Thing because u should and everyone should and I promise this isn't as random as it seems (ur mutuals with a mutual and pop up on my dash a lot also u made a post about Mei recently so I now associate u with Mei/Shado) but honestly Think About It they are so prefect for each other also consider Laurel/Shado which is also beautiful ok that's it thank u for ur time
Well, if Sara died and Shado didn’t…total AU material there ;D
The Mystery and the Manifestations, pt 2
In many Earths, Shado and Nyssa never even meet. In this one, they do, and that makes all the difference.
A “Shado lives and winds up in the League of Assassins” fic. Title is a reference to Laozi and the daodejing.
Chapters: (1) 2
There can be no doubt that the focus of this story is on Shado and Nyssa; they are the driving force; the relationship between them is why this story has been written in the first place. However, there is a world outside what they see, and instead of showing you what is happening to them as Nyssa is in Yemen and Shado regains some mobility, it is instead prudent to show you some of what is happening elsewhere. Because, despite their unawareness of these events, they will eventually come to have great bearing on our ladies future endeavors.
If anyone is overly concerned about the goings-on in Nanda Parbat and Yemen, here is a brief peek to soothe you:
Shado was healing well, through largely her own endurance. Though Al-Rramh and Min-yuqtal Alaliha were charged with her care, Al-Rramh was hesitant to enter the room after the first time she'd brought food by and left as quickly as possible each time while Min-yuqtal simply did not care. Food and water were brought with regularity and arm crutches were left by her bed, but other than that, she was on her own for her recovery until Nyssa's return approximately six days from when she'd left.
Nyssa, for her part, did not take Min-yuqtal's advice when it came to dealing with Pikeman (which is truly a stupid name for such a vicious warlord). She located his encampment, struck down his soldiers, and liberated his prisoners. As the dust settled, only the Pikeman himself remained, on his knees in the dirt, bound and gagged. On any other occasion, she might have found a fierce soul in the sea of people, mostly women and girls, and allowed them to take their own revenge. But she suddenly remembered Shado, alone in a fortress full of people who were apathetic toward her at best, and she had run him through before she'd thought about it. She left the emancipated people behind without a word; it was time to go home.
–
Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, a very much alive Slade Wilson stood in front of the Queen mansion gate, his finger hovering over the intercom button. He drew it back for a moment, before sighing and pressing it down. A loud, grating buzz filled the air and soon thereafter an Eastern-European accented voice filtered through the box.
“Yes? Who is it?”
“I—Slade Wilson. I spoke to Ms. Queen on the phone a few days ago; she should be expecting me.”
There was another loud buzz and then the wrought iron gate was swinging open, a long driveway stretching to the front door. Sculpted bushes lined the path, along with lilies and tulips and hydrangeas. It was revolting.
“No wonder you were so useless, kid,” he mumbled under his breath as he finally reached the door and knocked three times. He'd known Oliver was rich, of course, but the Queen family wasn't exactly well known in Australia like they were in America, so he hadn't really understood just how rich they were. No one needed a fountain in their front yard. If the kid were here, he and Shado would be taking him apart.
But Shado and Oliver were dead. Sara too. And all he could do for them was bring the news home to their families.
Continue on AO3
Tagging: @moiradearden @raywritesthings @blackcanarydinah @yellowflicker09011996 @nonbinarydereknurse @whitecanarrow
The Mystery and the Manifestations
In many Earths, Shado and Nyssa never even meet. In this one, they do, and that makes all the difference.
A “Shado lives and winds up in the League of Assassins” fic. Title is a reference to Laozi and the daodejing. Thanks to @raywritesthings, @whitecanarrow, and @nonbinarydereknurse for reading it over and catching my mistakes.
Years later, Shado would say that her awakening in Nyssa's chambers that day, the other woman's dark hair brushing her face and a tiny furrow of concern in her brow, was its own form of prophecy. And given the events that were to follow, it would make a certain amount of sense that there was some divine ordination that these things must come to pass, because even Shado could scarcely believe it when it was done.
At the time, however, as her brain struggled to reconcile its foggy recollection of what had happened on the island with where she was now, and as her body remained stuck in survival mode, she could only see an unfamiliar person and an unfamiliar place and the danger she had long since learned came with that.
Instinct told to her strike while she had the element of surprise and make a run for it, but the heaviness of her limbs and the ache of her muscles and the blurriness of her vision cautioned her otherwise. She knew nothing and she could do nothing and so the smartest course of action was to wait and see.
(Shado was so tired of waiting.)
“You are awake?” the woman hovering over her said, in the manner of one who is feeling hesitant for the first time in their life. “That is... good. Can you—are you—can you hear me? Can you understand me?”
Her Mandarin was flawless; Shado hadn't truly heard someone speak her mother tongue since her father had been killed (Oliver's halting attempts didn't count, not really, though they could've, someday, if he'd lived long enough—but no, she'd survived, maybe the others had as well).
“I hear you,” she said after a long moment, her voice grating through her throat and the salt of the ocean still on her lips. As if on cue, a cup was pressed to her lips and she took as long of a draught as she could before it was pulled away.
“You are still dehydrated; you must drink slowly.”
She had known that, once, but it was so easy to forget when your throat was burning for relief. “Who are you? Where am I? Where are my friends?”
The woman leaned back some and Shado finally could see a bit more of the room, made of stone, draped with deep red curtains, and lit with candles, apparently taken directly out of a medieval romantic's wet dream. “I am Nyssa and you are in Nanda Parbat. As for your friends... I'm sorry, but I didn't find any living soul on that island but you.”
“Ah,” she said. “I see.” Grief, guilt, loss—these would all come to her in time. But here, immobile, in this beautiful room with this beautiful woman who had saved her life, she was empty.
“You have been here for about a week now,” Nyssa said in the ensuing silence. “Most of that time you were delirious with hunger and pain and it is probably for the better that you do not remember, but it will be a long time yet before you are back to full strength.”
“I imagine so.” Shado's eyelids were drooping. She didn't bother attempting to keep them open.
Nyssa said something else, but Shado was already drifting off to sleep.
--
“How is our guest?” her father asked without preamble as she approached, his back to her as he bathed in the waters of the Lazarus Pit. He drew out guest, ending it in something of a hiss.
“She is healing,” Nyssa said, back erect and hands clasped behind her back. “If all goes well, she should be mobile again within the week and fully recovered in a few months.”
“I see,” he said, and were he not Ra's al Ghul, Nyssa might have heard a tinge of disappointment in his tone. “Be sure she is brought to me once she is well enough.”
“Yes, Father.”
“Is there anything else you wish to report?”
“No, Father.”
Ra's waved his hand at her in dismissal and she quickly bowed before taking her leave. If she remembered correctly, there was a warlord in Yemen in need of retribution for his crimes; her problems here could wait.
Continue reading on AO3
Tagging: @yellowflicker09011996 @blackcanarydinah @moiradearden @hcourageous @katt-tewks (note: if u don’t wanna be tagged that’s fine just let me know. I’m tagging some of you because you had seemed interested in the drabble bit that i’d posted before)
Anyway imagine Shado meeting Nyssa in the League of Assassins. Shado who says, "If I care about someone there's nothing I won't do for them." And she comes to care about Nyssa more than she ever thought possible again. Because this beautiful woman who was raised to kill chose instead to save her, chose to love her, in defiance of everything her father wanted for her. Nyssa, who never had the freedom she was owed, the life she deserved, the love she craved, and Shado cares for her. So of course Shado would want to give that all to her, but while her love is easy enough… what about her freedom? Nyssa has never gone to the beach and played in the surf, has never climbed a mountain to see the world from a new height, has never eaten a damn french fry; and what can Shado do, really? Ra's al Ghul has already planned his daughter's life out for her and escaping his clutches would be far from simple. So what can she do? Answer: she takes down the motherfucking League of Assassins so her girlfriend can eat a fucking milkshake on the beach
Could you possibly write a short fic exploring Shado being in the League of Assassins instead of getting fridged in Arrow season 2? I've always wanted to read something like that, and I know you're a huge Shado fan. Thanks!
YOU. YOU ARE MY FAVORITE ANON. I LOVE YOU. I’VE WANTED A SHADO PROMPT FOREVER (also yeah just fyi this is shado/nyssa sorry not sorry)
--
“Your knife work is exceptional,” Nyssa said as they entered the training arena, “but your swordplay is... subpar.” She strode over to the rack of weapons, foot catching on a loose stone tile, and picked up two swords, tossing one to Shado (who caught it with her right hand).
“Perhaps because I never used a sword before.” Martial arts, knives, a bow--these were all things her father had taught her, back when she wanted to join the military, before she broke her sister’s nose in a moment of pure rage and swore off fighting for anything but self defense ever again. The sword, however, he had never touched. He never did tell her why. He never would.
“You make excuses, Al-Tanin.” Nyssa smirked, the hollows of her face more pronounced in the dim and flickering light of the torches. Shado spared a moment to trace the contours of her lips and the slight tremble in her frame (it couldn’t be fear; anticipation, then? excitement?) before she sank into a crouch, ready to attack. Nyssa mirrored her, but kept one hand behind her back. She would be embarrassed that Nyssa had handicapped herself, but she couldn’t waste her energy on such frivolous emotions
She leapt into action, and their swords were a blur, a clanging of steel against steel. Before long, sweat trickled down her brow and into her eyes, but she could not afford the break in focus it would take to wipe it away because there was Nyssa, aiming at her shoulder. Shado forced her back, snaking in her blade, only to have it pushed aside and out of her hand.
“Again,” Nyssa said, holding her blade to Shado’s throat.
As the training went on, the air filled with a coppery tang, so slowly she almost didn’t notice it. But she did, and she looked over at Nyssa, who looked as haggard as she felt, and she knew something was wrong.
“Nyssa, stop.”