#honortousall

1. OTP(s) for your muse?

Shang X Mulan is my always OTP and endgame. It has been since I first watched the movie. 

Best Brotps:  Mulan, Chen-po, Yao, and Ling- and - Mulan & Mushu

NoTP: Mulan X Shan Yu (why is this even a thing?)

I could probably be swayed to write: Mulan X Prince Jeeki (even if the ship annoys the heck outta Mulan)

3. Which canon muse(s) do you currently ship with?

Honestly, I don’t think I have canon Mulan muses to ship with. But I’d be interested in shipping her with some of the Disney males if the chemistry is right. (and if there’d be a good excuse- or a bad one-  I could be tempted to ship her with army buddies) 

I do have a kinda ship that is half canonish with two different fandoms- and that is Mulan X Connor (Connor being from another fandom) @aintinsaint

The old man’s throat is nearly raw from the constant coughing fits, one of which made him drop the tea cup he had been holding inches from his lips, the tea long since gone cold on the floor. Fever dreams plagued his mind of his time as a soldier years ago, of Mulan’s.

Zhou just barely manages to get his fevered mind and body back to rest on the bed, hi eyes closed for a few moments, when another  fit of coughing has him sitting up to the sound of footsteps. It takes a minute after the hacking subsides until he is able to focus and see who it is.

The stress lines and worry are etched into every contour of Mulan’s face as she mentally prepares herself to speak. Rumor, she knows, will carry the news of her failure rapidly through the village. It had been quite an exciting moment in people’s otherwise mundane life. The respected daughter of a war hero failing so spectacularly with the matchmaker. 

@familyxdutyxhonor continued X 

Since Mulan’s return from the battlefield, she’d taken to disappearing for long periods of time to meditate in the temple or visit the family armory. While in the sanctity of their peaceful home, her mind and body were both still prepared for war. It was hard for her to comprehend that the fight might truly be over.

Shadows of the impending nightfall strain across her porcelain face with the aid of the flickering lamps. Stories of unimaginable and untold horrors weave their deep vines of distrust through the amber of her eyes.

Her father’s borrowed sword is snatched from its ceremonial place on the mantle next to Shan Yu’s and is drawn into the warrior’s weathered hands. With great care, the sheath is removed from the sharp silver of the blade and laid upon the floor at her side. The blade carves it’s singing path with a swift flourish through the air. She moves, gracefully with an expert ease before coming to a stop again. 

Trepidation, like ice, travels down her spine when the silver menacingly caught a glint of yellow light from the lamp, dragging her helplessly into a flashback of the mountains. The putrid stench of sulfur torments her senses. A thunderous bellow of an explosion inspires very earth beneath her feet to tremble. And then it hits, that awful flash of light coiling like a rabid and angry snake down the length of a jagged sword, the very blade she is keenly aware is resting upon the mantle unused and untouched, before bearing down on her side. 

Mulan’s whole body rivets violently the minute a hand curls around her shoulder. Short ebony hairs sweep drastically through her vision as she pins the threat to the wall and levels the sword at its throat ready to terminate its life. Ragged breaths draw in and expel the heated air from her heaving lungs. Murderous intent curls through her veins and jackhammers through her heart.