#This format is kicking my butt

[salty-an-disco]

I may or may not post the second run of Displaced Narrator this week. Depends how long it'll take for me to pass the first run to Ao3.

[confessions-of-a-monster-freak]

To the root of the problem - Hanta Sero

Prompt: “You are one insult away from starting a war” WC: 5647

Synopsis: You have a weather manipulation quirk (Can control cloud formations and weather-related phenomena) and own a flower and plant shop. 

This is set after the end of the manga, Sero is 24 in this. 

This is the first of (probably) many prompt challenges of mine. This took me about three days of writing, so we'll see how long it takes for me to get through my little jar of prompts.

As always, notes and reblogs are appreciated <3 (I know people here don't like the like system cause it doesn't get it out there on people's feeds, but I don't care! I like knowing someone enjoyed or "bookmarked" My stuff!)

Warnings: Snarky jerks.

This was the third time this week that the plant display in the front of the shop had been vandalized, destroyed, or even knocked around. This was driving me nuts, I didn’t have the money for cameras, but I was contemplating it if I needed it for sure. At this point I was just contemplating sitting outside my shop for hours waiting to see who did it.

I was trying so hard to make the front of the shop look enticing to people, to get more business. Or even just have people come in and look around and remember that my shop existed. But this happening was really dampening my hopes. Several thoughts that competitors might be doing it to try and drive me out of the market had crossed my mind. I tried to keep those thoughts away. There had to be some good florists out there that weren’t cruel.

“I have no idea who's doing it,” I lamented to one of my workers, or better yet my only worker. This florist and plant shop was a dream come true, but now it was starting to turn into a nightmare. I originally wanted to be a hero, to help people. But the turbulence that came with my quirk made me rethink, to the point that I just wanted to see people smile. Leading me to open this shop. To see people smile when presented with a customized bouquet, or even a new plant of their own.

“I mean you could just call an agency and see if they’d help,” He suggested. Reaching up and putting a plant away.  We were taking the damaged plants from outside and trying to keep them out of reach. I held a poor aloe that had been shaken out of its pot. I'd just tried to salvage it but I had a feeling it wasn’t going to make it. If it did it was going to become the shop's “Luckiest Plant”, replacing the snake plant that had been set on fire due to a cigarette butt being thrown into it.

I thought about what he said, my sign had also been shattered. That was going to come out of my own pocket instead of the shop's budget. It was too much to weigh it against the shop as is. Even the orders for more flowers were going to cut it close. I thumbed over one of the aloe leaves. Feeling the cold smoothness of the exterior before my fingers traced over the spines.

“What pro would sit outside a floristry shop to see who's kicking my plants over?” I expressed eventually, rolling my eyes, setting the plant up on a shelf, and hoping it didn’t die. I sometimes hated that I didn’t have a plant-based quirk, especially since my grandpa had one. But what could I say? I got lucky with weather manipulation. If you could call having to think every emotion through luck.

“An extremely bored one” He countered and went into the back. Leading me to sigh as I took my place behind the counter. I didn’t have any orders today, if I were to have one I could maybe relax. They always seemed to help me calm down. I was hoping that my sour mood wouldn’t result in me drenching the back of the counter again. I’d once gotten so upset that I’d caused a storm inside the shop. That was a nightmare to manage. It caused the only other employee I had to quit and refuse to come back.

I sat behind the counter, writing down some potential arrangements for the next seasons of florals. I needed to get on top of these as well as get ahead of the game. It was difficult. Especially since the people I was competing with were people with plant-related quirks. Not weather manipulation. It made caring for the plants easier, that was definite. But it didn’t mean I could grow the amount of flowers or plants I needed instantly. I had to order from gardeners, and whilst they appreciated the old way of business, my pockets did not.

I heard the door open and waited. My face still looking at my notebook as I scribbled out one of the flowers. Poinsettias were so hard to style, but I wanted to try one that didn’t involve Christmas. I was thinking that something in late autumn would look good with a poinsettia in it, I just had to figure out the other flowers before I could test. Those fake florals really did come in handy.

Normally people would look around for a bit before approaching the counter. We rarely got new customers. I would regularly get doubted for my abilities, especially since I didn’t have plant manipulation or something similar. I still very much appreciated the regulars I had, they constantly praised me for my work and tried to keep it as regular as their salaries would allow. 

“Uh…Hey” I looked up at the voice, spotting a man awkwardly standing in front of me. He looked about my age and seemed strangely familiar. Like I had seen him somewhere before, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on where I knew him from.

“Can I help you?” I asked, waiting for a response but he seemed hesitant to say anything. I paused and shot a quick glance up, figuring my quirk had manifested again.  “Sorry,” I said as I noticed the cloud that was swirling. A subconscious habit was my quirk would tell my mood. Such as now the turbulent thunderstorm cloud was voicing my displeasure. “Subconscious habit” I added as an afterthought. He then seemed more comfortable speaking. I forced the cloud to change to a fluffy one to try and keep him from seeming discouraged about talking.

“I wanted to come in and apologize, I’ve been the one knocking over your display” He started and then stopped himself. Apparently, the cloud was back. I could now feel my hair moving. I was certain a small funnel had started to form. I tried to keep my face calm and even out my breathing. I did not need this to turn into a repeat of flooding the store. I felt it start to slow down and shrink and listened as he continued.

“For some reason every time I patrol here villains come the same way. I try to steer them away and they won’t budge. They run into it, I run into it. They’ve thrown some plants at me too” He explained, trying to speed up his explanation probably due to fear of the suddenness of my quirk. 

I felt it suddenly stop, “You���re a pro hero?” I inquired, feeling it start to disperse. Leave it to me to assume that it was someone just being spiteful, and hateful. I felt awful that I had made such a harsh assumption straight off the bat. As well as not hearing him out fully before my emotions got the better of me.

“Yes, Cellophane” He answered and stuck out his hand. “I came to apologize and offer to pay for the damages” He added, I shook his hand and then turned around to the shelf of plants that needed extra attention. The only ones I was concerned about were the Moth Orchids and the Aloe. I let out a hum, trying to remember if any other plants had been damaged. 

I paused, thinking about it. Before sitting back down and clicking on the prices for the damaged plants. “I thought about staying up late to see who was wrecking my front” I started with a laugh. “Rory back there said I should ask a pro to check it out” I continued, finishing the prices before showing him the total. Cellophane laughed, paying for the plants and setting his card back into his wallet. Cellophane was one of the few heroes I didn’t hear much about. I knew he was around, I’d seen him on the news a few times. But I had no idea that he was regularly in my area.

“I thought it was one of my competitors honestly” I voiced, standing up to move the damaged plants around so they wouldn’t be sold and could be monitored. If anything I was going to take them home to watch them. I stretched to grab the aloe before turning around and setting it on the counter.

“What makes you think your competitors would trash your store?” He inquired, tilting his head as I moved pots around. Setting them on the counter so I could move them to the back and have Rory take over front duty for a bit. I needed to set them under some UV light and monitor them whilst I was at the store today.

“I’m the only florist shop in this town that isn’t owned by someone with a plant-based quirk” I answered, looking up before snapping my fingers and the plants around the shop now getting their own personal rain cloud to be watered. I was going to do it manually since it’d be a slow day. But I decided to showcase my quirk for a bit.

“The other shops are owned and managed by people with plant-based quirks. They also don’t seem to like me that much” I added as an afterthought. I’d only ever met one of my competitors and that was by chance. They were very rude and judgmental. I never went back, even to that part of the city.

“Awesome” He commented, walking up to one of the plants and poking the cloud. Making me laugh a bit. Some people were fascinated with my quirk, others were wary. It could be difficult to control, especially for a young kid who would throw temper tantrums and cause a catastrophic thunderstorm as a result.

“Comes in handy, I can’t grow the plants without time, but I can care for them better than others” I admitted, stopping some of the clouds and flicking the light to give some UV to them. I knocked on the door to the back to catch Rory’s attention. Hearing shuffling as he opened the door and I shoved the plants into his arms. “Put these on my desk please,” I asked and he grumbled but relented. 

“Thank you for saying it was you. If you need flowers you know where to go” I said to Cellophane as he was observing some of the plants. He turned and offered me a smile, I then ducked into the back room to have Rory take point whilst I could take inventory of the plants we had and others I’d have to order.

As I sat down at the desk I reached over to the aloe, gently thumbing over its leaves. Letting out a heavy breath I settled into the desk. I’d yet to get a massive order for arrangements. Most of the orders I had that I got to do were from the elderly who wanted flowers for their significant others, or families who wanted gravesite flowers. I needed to change that. 

I started looking into up and coming festivals where I could potentially get out there. There were a few, but I’d need some more money to get a booth. I’d have to dig through my parent’s place for the tables and how to set it up. But it was possible. I was just hoping the regulars would come soon.

Days later I was outside of the shop, taking a small break to bask in the sun for a moment. The back room could get quite dark, with only the UV lamps and the small light bars I used for arrangements back there. The sun was welcome as I took in a breath and felt the weather shift around me. The clouds that had started to block the sun totally shifted away. I smiled, to think I’m capable of causing a hurricane, and yet can hardly control the subconscious effects of my quirk.

I walked back into the store and started to tend to the plants hanging off the walls of the shop. Some needed to be pruned, others needed watering. I was going to take my time today, slow it down, and keep my thoughts straight. Rory had called out due to a family emergency so it was just me. As much of a help as he was, Rory could be behind on things.

I started to snip at one of the snake plants, removing dead leaves, or ones that would compromise its growth. I heard the bell jingle signaling I had a customer. I turned over my shoulder with a “Hello!” shooting a quick look before going back to my pruning. Then I did a double take and turned around. Cellophane was back, I wasn’t expecting to see him back this soon, or even at all for that matter.

“Hey, I need some help making a bouquet” He started, approaching me again. “I am…Clueless as to what they like and figured you might be able to help” He said, tilting his head at what I was doing. “What are you doing to the plant?” He asked, picking up one of the pruned leaves.

“Pruning” I answered, “When a plant creates more leaves than it can handle, or uses too much energy, parts of it start to die. I’m getting rid of both dying leaves or leaves that shouldn't be growing yet because they are still too young” I answered, “And absolutely. I don’t have many flowers in stock at the moment, but I do have some” I tacked on at the end. Walking to the counter where I stored the shears in the drawer before pulling out my floral catalog. One of the few things I enjoyed doing other than arranging flowers, was making binders filled with things. I had one of the mock arrangements, one with seasonal arrangements, and of course, the catalog of flowers I had access to and could buy.

“First date?” I inquired, flipping through to the back where I had an in-stock index. It took more time to do a weekly index, but it was worth it. And now I could properly see how many flowers I actually had. I was correct in assuming I had a small supply, but it was still enough for a bouquet. If maybe just by a smidge.

“Not exactly, more as a gesture of wanting a date,” He said leaning over the counter as I flipped back to the actual catalog. “Any suggestions?” He asked, looking as I marked pages.

“Most florists would tell you roses, but I say they are just trying to scam you as those are the most expensive flowers” I started, “Personally I love gardenias and camellias. But for you, since it's a gesture,” I continued, ducking down again and pulling out an almanac I’d written out. There were many different flower symbols and I had to comb through them. I decided a hard copy would come in handy. I quickly flipped through to my romantic cheat sheet.

“Gardenias, calla lilies, hibiscus, and some ferns and aster” I stated and then looked up to find that in the book. Once I did I flipped through them and snuck a quick glance at my index. I had them in stock. I typically used them in some of my regular bouquets, so in my mind they were worth keeping on hand.

“I’ll trust your word, you are the florist after all” He laughed making me smile, I normally didn’t get much freedom with these things. I was excited to get to do this. Especially since it was a pro and I didn’t get much business at all. 

“Let me ring you up and I can go get that all fixed up if you don’t mind waiting?” I offered, sliding the binders away and grabbing a pen to write everything down on my hand. I barely kept paper around the store. It always ended up getting lost or even damp by some stray rain droplets from my clouds.

He nodded and I scribbled the flowers away onto my palm before I typed it into the register. “It might be a bit if someone else comes in. It’s just me today” I added as he paid and it went through. I put the binders away and tucked the pen into one of my pockets.

“I’ll make sure no one steals anything” He jested, laughing at the face I made. Quickly I ducked into the back of the shop to pull the flowers out. As I pulled the tubs out, I balanced them as best I could before setting them on my workstation. Then I flailed for a minute to find the bouquet paper and ties.  Once that happened I took a deep breath to focus on my quirk. If I tried hard enough I could adjust the temperature. It was hard, but I could do it if I focused enough.

I felt the back room heat up just slightly and pushed harder until it was more comfortable for me to work. It was really cold in the back of the store, especially due to the fridges that we had to keep the flowers fresh. It also was too expensive to run a heater back here for long periods. I wasn’t good with manipulating temperature all that much, but I could if I pushed myself hard enough.

I quickly pulled out flowers and gently woke them up with some stimulation. Laying them into the prepared paper and arranging them in the way I had in my head. Once I was sure they were set, I folded the paper over, grabbed some ribbon, and tied it the best I could into a bow. I wasn’t the best with fancy big bows, Rory was better than me at that, but it still looked pretty to me.

I grabbed the tubs of flowers and felt the temperature start to drop again as I lessened my focus on the temperature and more on not dropping my flowers. Once they were settled in the fridge again, I walked over to the table. Gently picking up the bouquet and walking out of the back to where I left Cellophane waiting.

“Here it is” I said and gently handed it over, watching his face morph into surprise at seeing it. He then properly grabbed it and tried to keep it from falling over. Or falling apart, but I made sure I tied it tight enough that it wouldn’t. At least I hoped it wouldn’t, but I knew I tied tightly, and had a good deal of trust in my skills.

“It looks…Amazing, holy cow,” He expressed, he had an awestruck look all over his face as he looked at the bouquet.  I smiled slightly at the expression. I still had a lot of growth to do with my arrangements. However, I had limited access to actual practice. Maybe I should advertise a course.

“I’m sure they’ll like it.” I insisted, “If this bouquet doesn’t get you two to start talking about a date, then I’ll try again” I jested, grinning as I picked my pruning shears up again. Once he left I’d start to prune again. Especially since it would be slow after this.

“Well then, I need to introduce myself properly if I’m going to be coming back here” He started, and again presented his hand to me. “Hanta Sero,” He said as I took his hand and shook it. I gave him my name, feeling that it was right to do so. As I pulled back my hand he took a look at the clock behind the counter before bidding me farewell.

After he left I got back to pruning, snipping away slowly through the shop’s plants. I kept running through if I should do that festival, and if any of the competitors would be there. I decided I’d ask for Rory’s opinion once he got back. Even if it was just a small booth I could still get myself out there. It wasn’t that large of a festival, but I was hopeful that I could maybe sell some of the propagated plants or even some small arrangements. 

The rest of the day went rather fast, I spent most of the day tending to the plants. Then the back half of it was creating an index of what I could bring to the festival. As well as how much I could make by getting myself out there. I’d need tables, tablecloths, and a sign for my shop. I was sure I could call upon some sort of crafting and creative energy to make one in a hurry if I needed to.

I did one last sweep of the shop as I stood at the door. Checking things off as I did. The UV lamps were set on their timer, and the back door was locked. The lights were off. All I needed to do now was lock the door and I’d be set for home. I opened the door and walked out, closing it behind me and locking up my store for the day.

I turned back around only to jump at the appearance of someone behind me. I took a step back but then realized it was Cellophane. In costume no less, he was clearly on patrol, or at least should be. Instead of being about keeping an eye on the streets in the early evening, he was standing outside of my store in full gear no less.

“Hi,” I laughed slightly, “Coming to make sure there are no plants to be thrown at you?” I teased lightly, earning a laugh from him. I didn’t realize how detailed his suit actually was, being this close made me question how flexible the material actually was. I wondered if it was sturdy enough to handle repeated ware if that was the case, that type of material would be good for my arranging table.

“Yes, and to do this” He jested slightly, then turned his tone more serious. Making me blink out of my thoughts as he brought out the bouquet he’d bought from me earlier. It was still in perfect condition. “I figured this would be a good bridge to friendship, and maybe a date” He grinned under his mask. He seemed a bit bashful at the notion but seemed pretty confident in his decision.

I took the bouquet from him and laughed softly, “Of course you’d go to the florist who you’re trying to impress” I laughed, holding onto the bouquet with a smile. Gently tucking it close to my body to keep it safe. “Well, you certainly have that bridge now. Drinks?” I offered, tilting my head. “Of course when you aren’t on patrol and when I’m not working” I added quickly considering he should be patrolling.

“Sounds good, number to contact you?” He inquired, I fumbled around for a second, trying to find a piece of paper and a pen before finding a pen and being presented with some tape. I raised a brow at that but wrote my number down and playfully stuck it on the side of his helmet. 

“That way you won’t lose it. See you around” I waved as I started to walk away, smiling as I now seemed to have a new friend. As well as probably a new customer.

The festival was finally here, I was buzzing with excitement as I set up with the help of Rory and Sero. Sero was insistent on helping me set up and at least be there to start the festival. Over the past week, we’d grown quite good friends. Sometimes meeting up for lunch, or drinks and dinner if he wasn’t working nights. It was nice to have him help too. His quirk helped greatly with hanging the sign and keeping my tablecloths on my tables.

“Is it wrong to not be nervous?” I asked aloud as I sat down on my chair. Grabbing my water bottle and taking a few sips. For once I didn’t feel anxious. I felt comfortable being out here in the booth, it could be that I was outside and not in a little shop.

“Yes,” Rory answered, dragging a cooler over. “But the good thing is you won’t accidentally zap me with lightning” He teased, glancing up at me as he dragged the cooler around. “I said I was sorry Nao!” I whined, using his actual name for once. I’d given him the nickname Rory because of his quirk. It was a pun really, he had a big cat quirk. One that gave him ears and a tail. But most importantly he could roar like one of those big cats. Hence the nickname “Rory”.

“That’s happened?” Sero asked with a slight laugh, he’d heard some of the horror stories that were associated with my quirk. He sat down next to me in Rory’s chair. Smiling at me before turning his attention to my employee. Setting his hand on top of mine. There hadn’t been an official title put to us. But I knew he had an intention of dating eventually. So for now, really good friends is what we call it.

“Yes, they’ve gotten so anxious that a thundercloud appeared and zapped me whilst I was walking near them. I didn’t even do anything!” He explained, leading to more laughter from Sero and me sighing. I knew he understood that it was an accident, but it was still slightly embarrassing that I didn’t have full conscious control of my quirk.

“Hey there aren't any clouds now, so you can’t say anything” I countered and he scoffed. His ears twitch as he settles the cooler around the back of the booth.  Standing back up straight as his tail flicked behind him. He crossed his arms and looked at me pointedly.

“Only because you’re making it to where there are no clouds” He argued back, taking a step back from the tent I rented. He was right on that part, it was supposed to be cloudy with little sun and a fair chance of rain today. However, I was determined to make this festival work today.

I gave up the fight and relaxed into my chair, we still had some time before the festival actually began. As well as the fact that Sero had some meetings to go to. He did promise he’d be back with lunch though. Resulting in some interesting conversation between all of us. Quirk-related or not, even some random stories from back in school before the people started to flood in, and Sero left.

Lunch was now upon us, and I was fixing my display. I’d actually been doing really well, people were interested in my arrangements, as well as my small aloe and snake plants that I’d been selling. I’d sold about half of my stock that I’d brought so far, and given out more business cards than I thought I would.

“I have to say, you were right, this was a good idea” Rory admitted, pulling out the crates of potted plants from under the table to help me restock. He’d been pessimistic about this turning out good, but so far we’d covered the rentals as well as the fee to be here in the first place, and we still had more money on top of that. I could actually buy more flowers now, or even some ads around town.

“I knew this would be good for us” I agreed, happily fixing my display and brushing some stray dirt off of the table. We hadn’t had any plants fall, or any pots break and I was now starting to be optimistic about selling out of my stock before the end of the festival, or getting close to it.

“So you sell plants” A voice called out from behind me, I turned to see a man in nice clothes. They weren’t out of place per se, but they were of a high quality. He looked to have some money, or at least appeared to have some money. Regardless he was still a potential customer.

“And floral items too. Though I don’t have many of those at the moment as those sold really fast” I answered with a smile, greeting the man. However, I did start to suspect something when I heard a low rumble of a growl from Rory. It was quiet, but there. Even if only I could hear it.

“Is there anything in particular you’d like?” I questioned, keeping in mind Rory’s growl. He normally didn’t have a reaction like that. But when he did it was his feline instincts telling him something was wrong. He’d yet to be wrong so far.

“I wanted to see what my competition was, apparently not much if you can’t grow your stock immediately,” He said, a small smirk on his face. So he was one of my competitors, he didn’t have to be snarky about it. I was starting to dislike this guy, I didn’t even know his name yet and I already had some disliking. What a way to introduce yourself.

“I can at least take care of my plants with individual attention” I retorted, trying to keep my temper even. The last thing I needed was to cause a scene. Especially since I was outdoors. I continued to add my stock to the table, Rory had his eyes locked on the guy behind me. His ears were perked backward and his tail was starting to lash.

“That’s because you don’t have a flowing business. If you had a good business you wouldn’t have just one employee” He continued, and I was starting to grow annoyed. He had insulted my quirk first, then my business, and now my employee who I considered a friend. He was really pushing my buttons here.

“You are one insult away from starting a war” I warned, I was doing my best to focus on my plants. The succulents needed to be over here, closer to the setting sun. I could put the ivy and the snake plants on the other side. Focus on the plants, ignore him, and keep your emotions calm.

“A war you’d lose” I turned on my heel at that, gripping an aloe plant pot tightly in my hand. I walked up to the guy. My hand started to shake from the force I held the pot. I was surprised I didn’t crack or shatter it immediately.

“You are patronizing” A step forward, he took a step back. He furrowed his brow at my sudden approach, but there was no way I was stopping until I had said my piece, or gotten him to back the hell off.

“Snarky” Another step forward, and he took another step back. At this point, he started to look genuinely afraid. I didn’t consider myself scary in any regard, but maybe it was the fact I didn’t stop approaching him that did it.

“Narcissist who can’t see anything other than his own ego” By this point we were outside of my tent. “Who thinks he is better than everyone because he has a quirk that can make him good money. Well, I actually like being a florist, I’m not in it for the money like you, you selfish jerk!” I continued on my rant before I felt a hand on my shoulder, pulling me back.

“Calm down” It was Sero, he’d come back with his lunch. “You’re forming funnel clouds” He added, gently squeezing my shoulder. I could see out of my peripheral vision that he had his attention locked on the guy in front of me. Almost protectively in a sense. I looked up, seeing that I had in fact started to form a thunderstorm. Lightning was crackling in the clouds above me, as well as it had started to rotate ever so slightly.  I took in a deep breath, before exhaling out slowly. The clouds turned from deep grey to white slowly, and the rotation stopped as well. Before finally the cloud had dissipated completely and the blue sky was left behind.

“The next time you insult my business or my employee. I won’t stop it” I warned, glaring at the man who had pissed me off in the first place. He stood shell-shocked outside of my tent, seemingly stunned at my quirk, or the fact I did it subconsciously. I walked away from Sero and back into my tent where I took in some more calming breaths. Trying to keep my emotions stable so I didn’t cause a meteorological anomaly.

Sero came back in and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “That was impressive” He expressed with a smile, making me shake my head before grabbing the bag he’d set on the table to get my lunch. “Seriously. You have a really amazing quirk” He complimented and rubbed my arm. “And that guy was just a jerk from the back half of what I heard” Rory scoffed at that, grabbing his own to-go box of food. “I have a much stronger word for him, but there are children present” He griped, opening the box and digging in. “I wish they would’ve let it form fully. I’d loved to have seen him running from a tornado, or even some lightning strikes” He added, making me laugh.

My business had increased almost tenfold after that incident, and I could finally see the man’s booth. Way further down than me, but now with limited customers compared to me. I was running out of stock even faster than I thought. Sero being there and handing out Cellophane autographs did help. But I felt pride in seeing the scowl on the man's face. I was finally on par with my competitors, and possibly. Just possibly, becoming a worthy competition to the other shops in the area.

[angstywaifu]

The Lost Sister - Part 30

Synopsis: Xaden is known as an only child due to his sister who 'died' during the Rebellion. Little do they know she didn't die and has been so close this entire time.

Garrick Tavis x OC (Ophelia Riorson)

The Lost Sister Masterlist | Masterlist

As the middle of May arrives, so does War Games. Meaning we are fast approaching graduation. Something I had tried to avoid thinking about too much. But it was fast approaching. Meaning Garrick and Xaden leaving was fast approaching. This year was going so fast. It felt like only yesterday I was crossing that parapet and being shoved in front of the stairs in the rotunda. Being reunited with my brother and Garrick. And now we had to face the prospect of being separated again for who knows how long. And with our line of work, there was also the reality we may never see each other again. I shake my head to clear the thoughts from my head. I needed a clear head today. Today was War Games. If I went into this distracted, there was a very real chance I could be killed. It wasn’t uncommon for riders to die during war games. None of us were safe.

”What do you think our assignment is going to be?” Liam asks as we stand in formation in the middle of the courtyard with the rest of Fourth Wing. “Deigh thinks we’re on offense. He won’t stop going on about getting to kick Gleann’s ass-” Pausing as his dragon clearly butts in to say something. “Guess dragons hold grudges.” He whispers.

We certainly do. Mealladh adds, causing me to chuckle.

Anyone in particular you want to get revenge on? I tease.

Mealladh chuckles. No, not yet at least. Though Cath might be tempting to teach her rider to pull his head in.

We might have to get in line for that one.

Ahead of us leadership are gathered, getting their assignments from Xaden. He had know about the task since yesterday and he used his spare time to plan who was going where.

”We’re definitely on offense,” Rhiannon answers, “Otherwise we’d already be in the field.”

I nod in agreeance. “I don’t think I’ve seen a single rider from First Wing since lunch.”

Which did not bode well for us. Out of all the wings, First Wing liked us the least. Mainly Jack Barlowe and his squad. He wasn’t going to forget that Violet had put him in hospital for four days after their challenge a few weeks back. Meaning she would be the most likely target if our squads crossed paths.

”I think you two might be right.” Violet adds as she fidgets with the collar of her uniform. It was a particularly warm day, and we we’re fast approaching summer. I suddenly envied the other quadrants who had far better uniform options than the black leather we wore. “Why do you think riders wear black anyway?”

”Because it’s badass,��� Ridoc states from behind us.

”So it’s harder to see if we bleed,” Imogen adds.

”Forget I asked.” Violet mumbles as she turns her attention back to the front.

Any hints as to whats to come? I ask to Garrick who startles slightly as I speak in his mind.

I’m never going to get use to that. He replies as his eyes flicker up to meet mine.

You love it. But you didn’t answer my question.

You’re getting nothing out of me sweetheart. He tells me bluntly as he turns his attention back to the squad leaders in front of him.

Nothing? I can’t tempt you anything? I tease.

I watch as his shoulders tense and his nostrils flair. No

No? Not even me getting down on my knees, my mou-

Stop it! His eyes meeting mine again, desire and need heavily evident in them.

Make me. I tease before severing the connection as the leadership meeting ends, Dain and Cianna heading back to us.

”Which is it?” Heaton asks. “Offense of defense?”

”Both.” Dain states as he stops in front of us. “First Wing has taken a defensive position in one of the practice fort in the mountains, and they’re guarding a crystal egg.”

The older riders in our squad murmur with excitement. Obviously this challenge is far more exciting than ones in the past they have encountered.

”What are we missing?” Ridoc asks as he looks around at the older riders. “Because you guys seem thrilled about an egg.”

”From past years, we know that eggs are worth more points,” Cianna states as she grins enthusiastically. “Flags have statistically been the lowest, and captured professors rank somewhere in the middle.”

As exciting as it would be to try get an actual human out, if it was Carr I would leave him there as long as possible just to make him squirm and suffer.

”But they like to switch it up,” Dain adds. “The same way we could be going for a real objective on the line only to discover its not as valuable as we thought.”

”So how is this both offense and defense? If they have the egg, then clearly we should go get the egg.” Rhiannon adds.

Dain’s excitement peaks with Rhiannons question. “Because we’ve also been given a flag to defend and no outpost to do it in.” He grins widely.

”And we’re carrying it.” I state as a grin of my own spreads on my face.

Dain looks over at me and nods, his grin faltering slightly as our eyes meet. He still wasn’t sure of me, and I don’t blame him. But right now we had to be on the same page.

”And who is going to carry this flag?” Imogen asks.

I don’t know how but Dain manages to smile even wider. “That is going to be the fun part.”

Immediately we jump into formulating a plan. Dain drilling into us the strategy he wants us to follow. It seems Dain had taken something away from out time in Monsteratt with Mira. But our plan was simple and easy to follow. Anything too complicated would have us too focused on trying to remember what to do. All we had to do was play to our individual strengths and pass that flag often, never giving First Wing a chance to spot who was carrying it. An almost perfect chance for me to try use my signet. But could I cast a believable illusion while moving and on a large group of people? That was going to be my test. With two whole wings out there it would be a massive test to see if I could. But if I messed it up, part of my signet would be known to the entire quadrant. Something I did not want.

It’s a risk worth taking. It will not be easy, but if we focus I have no doubt you can pull this off. Mealladh states as I meet her eyes as we walk into the flight field.

One way to find out then. I state back as I smile at her.

”We’re going to win.” Rhiannon states confidently as she puts her arms around Violet and I.

”What makes you so sure?” Violet asks nervously.

”We have you two, Tairn, Mealladh, Riorson and Sgaeyl. And obviously me.” She grins. “There is no way we’re losing this.”

”You are certainly-” Violet’s words die as Tairn comes into full view.

He’s standing proud and tall at the front of the section next to Mealladh. Dain’s dragon Cath pushed easily to the side to accommodate them. A glint on Tairn’s chest catches me eye. A buckle. On Tairn’s back is a saddle. A saddle made to help Violet keep her seat. That sneaky bastard.

”That’s…. That’s a saddle.” She stutters out.

”That’s cool, that’s what that is.” I tell her.

”Yeah, and it looks way more comfortable than Feirge’s bony spine, I’ll tell you that. See you two up there.” Rhiannon says before pushing past us and heading off to mount her own dragon.

I turn and walk over to Mealladh, leaving Tairn and Violet be to have whatever conversation they are having.

She’s not going to be happy with you. I tell Xaden who is walking over to Violet.

He meets my gaze and shrugs. It will keep her alive and let Tairn do what he needs to do. She will learn to like it.

I shake my head at him. Fucking mated dragons.

He gives me a vulgar gesture before walking past me to Violet who still looks shocked at the saddle that now adorns Tairn. I have to give it to my brother, he had thought of anything and everything to keep that girl alive. And honestly this was the best one I had seen yet. Hell I kind of wanted one, but I had not problems keeping my seat and I doubt Mealladh would tolerate it.

You would be correct. But if it kept you alive I would do my best to tolerate it. She states as I run up and mount her.

That might be one of the nicest things you’ve said to me.

I don’t have to look at her to see she’s rolled her eyes at me. As I settle in my seat I look forward to see Garrick mounted on Chradh looking over at me. I can tell from here how excited he is about this War Games. It would be challenging to do offense and defence, but we could pull it off. I feel his presence reaching out for me, clearly wanting to communicate before we take off.

You’re going to use your signet aren’t you?

Of course I am. It’s going to give us the upper hand with that flag. I tell him sternly. I was not backing down on not using my signet. I needed to learn to use it in real life situations.

I see him nod his head slightly. I know there’s no point in telling you Riorson’s not to do something, but please be careful with it. We can’t have everyone knowing what you can do.

If it means winning, I’ll do whatever it takes. And I know you will to.

I don’t doubt that. You just keep that flag safe sweetheart, and I’ll make sure Xaden or I get that egg.

How about this. You make sure you get that egg and you might just get a reward tonight. I tease, knowing he will do anything and everything to make sure he gets that egg.

A reward? What kind of reward? He practically growls in my head.

Get that egg and you’ll find out.

And with that Mealladh and I launch into the air, leaving a very shocked and dumbfounded Garrick down below.

@riorgail @going-through-shit @fw-gt @bbkissme99 @xceafh @leptitlu @came-to-laugh-but-cried @onthewaytotimbuktu @daardyrnitta @lovemesomevesey @mxtokko @krowiathemythologynerd @callsign-blue @1islessthan3books @side-angel @wolfbc97 @just-an-ace-elf

[see-arcane]

I don't even care about the Nosferatu characters but there is something creepy about Eggers' scenario being all "this guy feels like he's a beta cuck in front of (thieving, ignorant, dirty) foreign masc men who constantly humiliate his masculinity and surprise he gets cucked" when this was nowhere in the film nor its source?? The fuck was that about

It's the Jonathan Harker effect.

I.e., a reflexive response from adaptation and spinoff creators who have actually been made aware of all the facets Jonathan Harker--or in this case, his doppelganger Thomas Hutter--possesses within the canon of the novel Dracula/the original Nosferatu and immediately get a bug up their butt about how much he encompasses of what makes them uncomfortable.

Jonathan Harker is a damsel in distress.

Jonathan Harker is kind and not classically manly beside a backdrop of more standard masculinity.

Jonathan Harker is preyed upon in an intimate way by the dark and powerful male Villain, the latter having supernatural ability and desire to collect an undead harem/partners against their will.

Jonathan Harker was left ill and disabled after his escape and so showed weakness, needing aid from others, relying on women (ugh) like the nuns and Mina before he could heal and move forward.

Jonathan Harker loves, cherishes, and worships his wife more than anything, wanting her to take the lead. Without her actions and sacrifice, the Villain would never have been defeated, which he highlights at the close of the novel, just as the Nosferatu iteration must take the lead in ending the film's Villain.

Jonathan Harker, polite little nobody that he is, is the one to transform himself into a Thing That Terrifies the Masculine Conquering Power Fantasy Villain. He sends his former abuser and predator running like a coward into the streets, himself giving chase to kill him in public. It is his knife that lops off the Villain's head while he hides in the dirt after Mina arranged the hunt--tastefully aligned with Nosferatu via Ellen (Mina) fully realizing the martyr role and sacrificing her life not out of amorous want of the Villain, but out of a desire to protect her husband and the town, taking on a masculine role in her own right by making the fatal sacrificial play.

In short: Jonathan-Thomas is a victim. He is antithetical to every macho babe-collecting ooh hoo hoo look at my cool-powered masculine conqueror metaphor that exists within the Dracula-Orlok figure. Jonathan-Thomas is naturally more endearing, blithe, and sweet than the common male hero and follows that by being forced into a traditionally female role as the preyed-upon and imprisoned damsel.

His mere existence throws the Mina-Ellen figure into even brighter contrasted spotlight, where she manages to wholly subvert the expected Man Villain seeks Pretty Girl to Ravish format. Mina-Ellen turns it on its head, making herself into the weapon by which the Villain is defeated, rather than leaving every point of planning and action and sacrifice to a male rescuer. This she does to aid and/or rescue her husband, the actual damsel, and humanity at large.

In the book, Jonathan the Damsel turns the tables with Mina's impetus and guidance, and ultimately slaughters Dracula, who they terrified into running home to hide and skulk.

In the film, Thomas the Damsel's plight spurs Ellen into action, making plans and taking heroic steps all on her own to destroy Orlok when she baits him with her offered blood, leaving Thomas to grieve and weep for her, tragically spared from his attempt to take on Orlok himself.

And male directors and writers like Eggers, along with so so So many before him, absolutely fucking hate that shit. It spoils the whole premise for them. Because Jonathan-Thomas is ruining their vibe, the limping simping little milksop Victorian era soyboy that he is. How does he get to kill their bestie bodypillow stand-in, Dracula, or let the Girl One take charge in Nosferatu to put down Orlok?? Bullshit!

Kick him out, kick him down, and make sure Girl One ditches his lame unmanly ass to bounce on that vampire dick that we all know she reeeally wants, lol

And throw in even more weird racism/xenophobic BS to show how Manly and Sexually Liberated the stinky foreign Romani thieves are in the year twenty-twenty-four because why not I guess

[ladytauria]

JAYKON SOULMATES !!!!!! Thoughts??????

Ah, I’m sorry it took me so long to get to this shsjhdjd It’s been rotating in my head since you sent it tho lmao

My thoughts are that that’s FANTASTIC but to get more specific—

(I had these formatted as bullets but they didn’t copy over & I’m on mobile & don’t feel like messing with it. Should read fine still though, I think.)

Thinking about Jason dying without a soulmark, only to either wake up with one or develop one during Lost Days. And of course he’s disgusted, because it means his soulmate is a child. And he’s angry, because why should a soulmate be stuck with him? And he’s upset, because he always wanted a soulmate, and this feels like more mockery from the universe.

Thinking about Kon who doesn’t want to wait to find his soulmate, who isn’t sure it’s even possible FOR him to find his soulmate, with the universe as big as it is, who maybe even isn’t keen on the idea of soulmates because, eugh, who needs them? He has his best friends and that’s enough for him.

Then, hm, thinking about this happening some years after Titan’s Tower. Tim spends time with Jason on a pretty regular basis, so when Kon visits Tim in Gotham, he ends up running into Jason… pretty often.

At first they butt heads. Kon hasn’t forgiven him for the TT incident or the other things Jason’s done and Jason isn’t one to just roll over and take it when someone snarks at him.

And then I’m split after that… I have two thoughts on how it could go:

A:

After a few too many times of getting kicked out of Tim’s apartment, though, they learn to tolerate each other.

Except tolerating each other becomes actually enjoying each other’s company?? They find a kindred spirit in the other; Kon finds Jason is passionate and kind of charming, when he wants to be. And Jason finds Kon is insightful and sweet. And of course, they already knew they shared a sense of humor, but what WAS an unfortunate commonality becomes fun… and maybe the bane of Tim’s existence.

I’m thinking Jason sees Kon’s mark first. He keeps his under wraps, not even admitting that he HAS one. Seeing its mirror on Kon’s skin is mind blowing. He has to excuse himself so he can take time to process, leaving Kon perhaps to wonder what he did wrong.

Meanwhile Jason is re-evaluating everything he thought. He spent so long telling himself he COULDN’T have something, first lamenting it, then just. Flat out refusing to think about it. That seeing that he maybe, possibly COULD… he doesn’t know how to deal with that.

Unsure if Kon tracks Jason down, if Jason finally calls Kon, or if Tim/Cassie/Bart meddle. (Could be fun for Tim to have known and set them up on purpose before going hands off, but IDK.)

Regardless, they do meet up again & talk about it… which probably actually turns to fucking about it because why talk when you can fuck?

B:

Thinking it comes to a head when Kon shows up while Jason is in the middle of getting treated by Tim. Jason usually keeps his soulmark under wraps; not even admitting that he has one, but the injury leaves him no choice. He swore Tim to secrecy before he would even let him at it.

Kon happens to see it—and the immediately leaves.

Tim definitely has seen Kon’s mark before, because I don’t think he was shy about it, lol. So he knows why, but he doesn’t want to just blurt that out to Jason.

So instead he reassures him, tells him that he’ll talk to Kon about it, tell him not to say anything.

(Jason, catastrophizing: “Oh, fuck, it’s Jon, isn’t it?” Tim: “No, Jon was born before you came back to life.”) <- actually I’m not sure of that math, but IDC.

*Eventually* Kon shows up at one of Jason’s safehouses. Jason cussed out Tim for telling Kon where to find him before opening the door—*could* have a cute moment where Kon is like, “I followed your heartbeat” because he’d memorized it without meaning to. (Jason would probs then call him a stalker, and they’d banter before Kon remembers why he’s there.)

I don’t think Kon would bother with much explaining? Maybe he’d try, stumble over his words, and then just huff exasperatedly before showing Jason his soulmark.

Jason of course is left speechless. Maybe assuming the worst, that this is some kind of trick or that Kon is playing with him. It COULD easily get heated enough that Kon has to leave and then JASON is the one having to track Kon down.

In which case it would be SO cute to have Jason do one of those 80s romcom dramatic ‘win them back’ things.

But anyway.

At some point Jason and Kon sit down and Jason explains why he reacted the way that he did & the two of them agree to get to know each other as friends before anything else.

(Although it’s also very possible that if things get heated enough they just end up having sex shskjdk but—)

Oh, and ofc there’s option C:

Their constant bantering turns to hate sex, and Kon or Jason sees the mark at some point, and it proceeds like in one of the other two.

[xiyouyanyi]

Welcome!

@ryin-silverfish here, also known as "That person who talks a lot about FSYY and fox spirits".

This is my little LMK AU sideblog, which started off as a bunch of disjointed background notes for my fanfics, but developed into its own gigantic thing over time.

I've said elsewhere that, despite LMK (and many other JTTW adjacent works) lifting certain tidbits wholesale from FSYY——like Nezha's backstory or the Golden Dragon Shears, neither the show nor the fanworks really go into the implications of a FSYY/JTTW combined universe.

(For one, Zhao Gongming's three sisters, the Sanxiao, showing up to kick Jin and Yin's butts for stealing and breaking their treasure would be very satisfying, and also hella badass.)

Well, be the change you want, they said. 

So here it is: Journey of the Gods, aka "LMK, but FSYY is also canon and an extremely influential historical event".

Inspired by @digitaldoeslmk 's By the Book AU.

What even is FSYY?

"Ancient China's bloodiest bureaucracy recruitment program, kickstarted by a king who simped too hard for the creator goddess of humanity and the fox girl she sent to end his dynasty."

"I'll write my own God-Demon novel, with blackjacks and fox hookers and no Buddhist allegories!" ——Xu Zhonglin/Lu Xixing/Li Yunxiang

Okay, jokes aside: Investiture of the Gods(Fengshen Yanyi) is the other big "God-Demon Novel" of the Ming dynasty, written after JTTW. It's about the toppling of the Shang dynasty and its tyrannical King Zhou by King Wu of Zhou——but with more Daoism, immortals and demons helping out both sides, and ten billion magical formations and treasures. 

At the end of the story, almost everyone who died in battle were deified and became the 365 gods of the Celestial Bureaucracy, thus "Investiture of the Gods". 

Here is a link to the only full English translation of FSYY, by Gui Zhizhong.

Here is my overview of FSYY's grand overarching conflict, a.k.a. "Why are all the Daoist immortals fighting?" 

Compared to JTTW, it's a lot more formulaic and suffers from a massive character count inflation problem, but also extremely influential in Chinese folk religion, to the point of some modern temples, like Qingyang Palace, basically worshiping characters from the novel! Like, the western equivalent would be a church worshiping Dante and Beatrice from the Divine Comedy.

(Similarly, it is to orthodox Daoism what the Divine Comedy is to medieval Christian theology, and should not be treated as actual religious scriptures.)

Okay, FSYY happened in the LMK universe. So What?

Well, first, it will really do wonders to fill up that eerily empty Celestial Realm we see in the Spider Queen special, and the Celestial Bureaucracy will no longer consist of a grand total of five people.

Secondly, it can solve some major show-not-tell problems and actually give legitimacy to the grievances of the LMK Brotherhood + Havoc in Heaven, as well as fleshing out the Celestial Realm.

Third, so many cool magical treasures.

Fourth, LBD gets an origin story, with a twist.

Fifth, I delight in quality angst and horror, and FSYY had some seriously messed-up stuff and implications.

Sixth, Celestial Bureaucracy office politics.

Seventh, Nezha kicking asses and winning fights like he should.

Eighth, crazy Xianxia shit, as you’d expect from the great-granddaddy of modern Xianxia genre.

Ninth, infodumps about Chinese mythos and history trivias.

Tenth, Underworld lore.

...As you can probably tell, this is mostly just me nerding out and writing walls of texts. I'm not a very good artist and can't do Lego style, but will probably doodle some symbol/character designs for funsies.

I also derive most of my enjoyment from writing fix-its and worldbuilding, not shipping characters. Like, I love exploring individual characters through relationships, but just ain't a fan of romance.

There will be a lot of OCs, but unless otherwise specified, all of them will be based on actual characters from FSYY and JTTW, with a few folk gods sprinkled in for funsies.

With that taken care of: good luck and happy reading!

[snowbellewells]

CSSNS24 Fic: "For All Life and For All Time" (A CS Dracula AU in 3 Parts)

Author's Notes: Okay, so this is posted late, on a day that was luckily unclaimed. I struggled with doing justice to the work that probably began my love of all things Victorian Gothic, and re-reading it again for plotting and inspiration certainly didn't make the prospect any less daunting. While I love the original Bram Stoker novel's epistolary format, it was not something I wanted to carry on for an entire fic. Nor is this fully true to the original's narrative. I do hope that those who have read the novel and enjoyed it may find nods to the original to make them smile. I didn't want to make Killian the Dracula character - he is neither at all attractive nor redeemable in the original work - so he became my Van Helsing. Emma is the kick-butt awesome Mina Harker, quite a standout female character for that time, but I did away with the Jonathan Harker character altogether.

This starts in the middle of the action, then has a fair bit of reflection to bring readers up to speed. The next installment should have more action and pick up where this one leaves off.

A MILLION thank yous to @myfearless-love for all the editing work she did - my writing is quite a mess when I first translate it from my handwritten pages to a doc! She made it so much better, and I am incredibly grateful!!

A Victorian, Dracula-inspired AU in Three Parts

Please Enjoy and let me know what you think!

Summary: Having lost her dearest friend and with her own life on the line, Emma Swan joins a noble band to face an ancient evil. Three of them stand by her in honor of the one they loved and lost. The other might be the first man she could love. He might love her as well - even more than life itself. Time will tell... if they both survive the fight against their immortal enemy.

**Also available on AO3, if you prefer

Part One

by: @snowbellewells

Emma craned her neck to peer out the small window of the carriage into the impenetrable darkness encroaching on all sides as the conveyance careened around sharp curves and stark cliff faces, making her stomach pitch and her heart leap into her throat. More than once, her mouth opened to call the driver, beg him to slow down, but each time a sudden jolt or swerve had her clenching her teeth and swallowing the words as she gripped the seat tightly. Pitching wildly from one side of the bench to the other, Emma was nearly toppled to the floor repeatedly as they sped on.

The torches beside the carriage doors flickered wildly behind the glass sconces but barely made pinpricks of light in the surrounding night; deep blackness which had swallowed them since leaving the small gypsy outpost where they had supped just an hour past. Emma realized belatedly that she was only becoming more overwrought by attempting to stare blindly into the void while they hurtled forward, and instead forced herself to lean her head against the seat back and close her eyes, resolutely taking deep, calming breaths.

Scant moments passed in such a manner before Emma felt her racing heartbeat slow. It was a different sort of thrill which then ran along her spine - distinct from the chill which had settled on her skin with the horrifying loss of Aurora’s sweet friendship and from the eerie foreboding which had accompanied her since setting out in this last effort to ensnare the perpetrator of her younger friend’s downfall. This determined trek higher and higher into the isolated Carpathian heights seemed to weigh on her more with every mile they gained.

Yet, despite the tightening pit in her stomach and the anxious flutter of her pulse, Emma would not fail to accomplish her part in Killian’s plan. The Professor had turned Emma Swan’s already teetering world upon its axis. He was beyond description - no words could capture what his mere presence, his voice, a glance in her direction could do to her - a power no man had ever held before, because she would not allow it. And yet every hair on her body stood on end when he was near; her awareness utterly captured by the mysterious scholar. He had introduced himself merely as Killian Jones when they met at Aurora’s sick bed, but as they had nursed her together, even when their every desperate attempt proved futile, it had become clear his vast intellect, his determination and resolve, placed him well beyond the scope of any man she had met before - or likely would again.

By the time he had spoken the truth of the fiend who had siphoned Aurora’s life before their eyes, she could not doubt him, even in the face of the utterly impossible - a vampire.

This ancient evil, Count Dracula, had ruled his isolated corner of the world for ages, but in coming to England and extending his reach, he was a threat to all mankind. Aurora had been only a prelude to what he intended. A monster of myth and legend had destroyed her innocent friend, and without pausing for rest, he had stalked and marked Emma as his next victim, only she had the advantage of awareness and warning enough to resist.

Though the threat was deadly, and knowing what she faced - stakes and dark graveyards and the betrayal of her very humanity from what she gathered of Aurora’s end that no one would speak of in full - Emma did not wish to be shielded and to wait hidden in safety while others risked their lives for her sake. She would have her hand in it, even if that meant to some extent playing the helpless damsel as bait in the trap.

To Killian, it was personal as well. He had still been a medical student long ago, traveling to study folk remedies in Romania when he met a darkly beautiful Countess, lonely and sad, all too eager to join him on his travels. She had set his world aflame - first in joy, and then in ruin, for she had not been as free as he had believed. He had fallen for her, and then seen her drained of life by her husband - the creature of night who had proven nightmares lived and walked the earth. Killian had only survived that first encounter because the Count wished him to suffer. For years, Killian had studied and prepared. He had made himself into an expert much different than he had once aimed, and he had intended for his suffering to end only when his life, or the Count’s, did as well.

There was a fine line to walk, however, between justice and bitter revenge. When he had seen the desire for reprisal in Emma after Aurora’s death, when she learned of the indignity to which the young beauty had been subjected and the lengths to which the men who cared for her had gone to assure her peaceful rest, she had sworn she would see this Count Dracula pay for his cruelty somehow. That was when Killian had told her all. “Do not fall into that trap, Swan,” he had spoken softly, though the import of his words was unmistakable. “That way lies ruin - only wasted years and endless torment.”

His blue eyes bored into her very soul as he strove to make her see. “When I lost my love, my Milah, I sore revenge upon her foul husband, the vampire who murdered her without remorse. I was nearly consumed, and when I finally came back to myself, I realized that seeking only retribution would make a monster of me as well. That was when I took on the name Van Helsing, obtained my licenses and degrees with it in fact, in the hope of evading his detection while I waited and watched and the years crept by. I must pursue the course for the sake of all, but not for my own ends, my own anger and hate.”

He would not release her eyes, his focus searing as he continued, “You too must find a way to separate yourself, to retain your purity of heart despite the terrible mission you undertake. Do what you must to save all, but do so without letting it twist your soul with similar darkness.”

And so, in their desperate alliance, they all had their roles to play - Aurora’s bowed but unbroken suitors, and she, Aurora’s dearest friend. The three gentlemen had rallied around Emma, swearing to protect her in her friend’s name. And Killian, their worthy advisor and leader, had not yet steered them wrong. She wanted justice and what retribution could be found for the torment Aurora had suffered. None of them would falter. They had taken solemn vows. Now all that remained was to see the mission through.

Emma could only wonder how had her life been altered so drastically in a few short weeks. Such thoughts replayed through her mind in what was at first a rose-tinged procession as she recalled how bright and full of promise she had been when first arriving on the coast of Whitby for a holiday with her childhood playmate. It had been some time since she and Aurora had seen each other, and those first days on the shore were spent in a haze of sunshine and laughter. They caught up with one another’s lives as they shared tea and biscuits on the wide veranda of the Spindleton’s gorgeous summer cottage. They giggled under the covers long into the nights, whispering of Aurora’s debut season, the many eager suitors who had vied to court her, and her blushing fondness for her chosen fiancé Sir Philip Thornswood, Lord Briarling. They also chuckled over Emma’s adventures - how she disguised herself in men’s pants to move freely while researching her stories, and the various pseudonyms she used when submitting her pieces for publication, subverting the male-dominated publishing world. 

It had been an idyllic change from the crowded, dingy part of London where Emma could afford to live and work. Aurora’s family belonged to the upper echelon of society, well-known and old-moneyed, and Emma had been mostly alone in the world for as long as she could remember. She was discovered on the front stoop of the Widow Lucas’ boarding house as an infant, wrapped in a snow white baby blanket with her name stitched in purple as the only clue to her identity. Fortunately, the Widow Lucas was a formidable woman, well-versed in making her way in the world against harrowing odds. She had already raised a granddaughter who was now off traveling the continent, so she took in the little blonde foundling and raised Emma as her own, teaching her all she knew. Though the tough older woman - “Granny” to all who knew her, especially Emma - had been gone for some years now, Emma remained eternally grateful that it was her doorstep her unknown parents had chosen that cold dawn so long ago.

Granny had even managed to scrounge and save enough, and was willing to spare Emma’s assistance twice a week, for riding lessons - where Emma had met Aurora Spindleton. Though poor Aurora had been an absolute lost cause at equestrian pursuits, Emma had excelled with enthusiasm, and everyone involved was relieved when she took the slightly younger future debutante under her wing during their lessons.

Emma loved the freedom riding gave her, and Granny was glad to know her charge would have the ability to get help quickly and effectively if ever needed - and defend herself too, if her skill in archery and marksmanship was any indication. In truth, Granny had been secretly delighted. She had lived long enough to know just how dangerous the world could be, and she wanted to see her girl as prepared as possible without completely tarnishing her outlook.

Though Aurora’s family was of a higher social standing, they had always been welcoming and kind to Emma whenever she visited their townhouse in Mayfair. She sensed that they were glad their only child had found a practical friend who could provide a steadying influence on Aurora’s naive, head-in-the-clouds sweetness. Since gossip photographers insisted on capturing and reporting the doings of the peerage, her parents were certainly relieved that Emma’s tips and encouragement had kept Aurora from being caught falling off her mount or in some other embarrassing faux pas. Aurora, for her part, was so endearing and open that Emma couldn’t resist being charmed. She might have been cosseted and sheltered, but she was hardly the sort of snob Emma had expected to encounter when mingling with the upper crust during her lessons. Instead, Emma was pleasantly surprised to make her first close friend - a friendship that lasted for years, with Emma always missing the Spindletons when they left for the shore in summer, counting down the days until her confidante would return.

This year, however, she had received a request, along with a train ticket, to join them at Whitby. It had been wonderful - strolling, swimming, and lovely summer hours blending together joyously - until all had gone horribly wrong. If only the happy, haze of sunshine-warm days had not gone dark and tinged with blood.

Aurora had already been betrothed to Philip by the time Emma had arrived. Still, it had been lovely to meet each of the worthy men who had sought her hand. With not an ounce of malice in her slender body, they had each sworn their friendship and fealty, even after the troth had been gently rejected. Even without Aurora there to blush and smile sweetly while introducing them, Emma could easily see why her friend might have been drawn to each in his own way, despite the obvious differences between them. All the men who had sought Aurora’s hand in marriage were honorable and true, respectable and worthy beyond reproach. Their faithfulness to Aurora tested beyond natural bounds and withstood the onslaught, and Emma felt the protection of their bravery as they had rallied around her when she faced a similar fate. If only any one of them had understood what had preyed on Aurora before it had been too late!

Philip Thornswood, Aurora’s betrothed, was the most like her young friend in Emma’s eyes. Upon first meeting the landed peer, she felt the warmth in his large, chocolate eyes, his gentle strength and charm, and she knew they would have melted Aurora’s heart irrevocably. There was a sad sweetness to his expression, as if Emma herself returned a bit of his lost love to him with her presence. He had bent over her hand to gallantly kiss its back, and she had blinked away tears for the happiness that Aurora would never enjoy, knowing the two would have been well-matched beyond her friend’s wildest dreams. All she could do was press his hand in return, and give him a wordless smile she only hoped might express her bittersweet feelings.

Graham Morris, from the wild, rolling hills of Ireland - a cowboy of sorts, as they would call it in the Americas - was a man of few words and swift action, easily winning and debonair, but  also a bit rumpled and informal. He was clearly happier out of doors, more comfortable in the woods and riding horses than in a crowd of people, and yet his easy good humor and almost bashful regard could easily have swayed her young friend. He was an excellent shot, ever on the alert, and a godsend to have in their desperate endeavor.

The third suitor, Dr. Jefferson Seward, was a celebrated and innovative physician who had fought to restore Aurora’s health with every fiber of his energy. If the foe he had battled had been a mortal man rather than an immortal being, Emma had no doubt they would have prevailed. Though he was slightly older, he was thoughtful and doting; Aurora would have naturally been fond of him. The affection between them had been undaunted by her choice of another - so much so that when Jefferson had found himself losing the fight for her life, he had urgently sent for his friend, the renown Professor Van Helsing, expert on the supernatural forces, to do what he could not.

And that was how she had come to be in this rattling horse-drawn carriage, racing up a treacherous mountain path. The devious monster who had taken everything from Aurora - and who now threatened to drain Emma’s own life as well - awaited her in the deserted outpost at the end of this long night’s journey. Her hands clenched and unclenched in her lap. Every few minutes, her fingers reflexively gripped her reticule, its strap looped around her wrist, drawing comfort from the small Derringer hidden within its folds. She also took strength from the knife secured in a special holster at the top of her stockings, pressing against her thigh. Her cheeks flushed at the memory of Professor Van Helsing - Killian - explaining its purpose as he presented her with the clever sheath. He had been deathly serious about her safety, but there also had been a heated flicker of clear attraction when she shyly gestured to ascertain where it should be worn, a moment that had ignited a warmth deep inside her.

The gentle feathering of gray in his hair near his temples and sideburns reminded her of the vast experience and knowledge he had gathered in his life - the very things they were all counting on to help them survive. The deeper lines around his startlingly bright blue eyes and at the corners of his firm lips reminded her that he had once smiled much more than he allowed himself to now. It made Emma wish to see him do so again. Everything about the man radiated power and purpose, commanding her respect from the moment they met, just as Aurora’s terrifying affliction had reached its peak. 

They had not won the victory any of them had prayed for, least of all Lord Briarling. Emma had hardly been able to bear looking at the strong young man bowed by grief as she had boarded the carriage for her mission. Philip Thornswood had given her a hand up onto the step, and was the last to speak to her before Killian Van Helsing’s own farewell. The gloom in his demeanor made her very glad she was not leaving the young gentleman alone, but in the company of true comrades. Even so, she trusted that Philip would not allow himself to falter in their cause. That steady hand, such a gentle support for her own as she ascended into the carriage, might have trembled in the doing, but had not hesitated to drive a stake into the breast of one he loved most in all the world for the sake of her eternal soul.

Breaking from her reflection on the journey’s beginning, Emma remembered herself suddenly as an eerie calm seeming to settle over her surroundings. She was instantly on alert when the carriage began to slow. A shiver of trepidation ran up her spine, returning her harshly to the present and the task before her. Outside there was a foreboding, unnatural quiet, only the crunch of the carriage wheels and the sound of the horses’ hooves on the rough ground broke the eerie silence. They rolled to a stop, and Emma leaned from the window, intent on calling up question the driver.

To her utter confusion and horror, when she glimpsed the seat where the driver had perched, she found no one there. He was gone, and she was stranded alone in the dark. Uncertain of what to do, but knowing she could not stay on the desolate mountain pass in the cold, Emma exited the carriage and alighted on the ground. As her feet touched the rough stone and dirt beneath, some unnerving signal was sounded. The silence was broken by the howling of wolves - loud, spine-tingling, and coming from every side, all around them.

There was no way to outrun them, and as the echo and answer of their baying circled nearer, Emma knew there was no way through their number at any rate, even without being able to see. The horses stamped and tossed their heads nervously, panic driving them as instinct warned them predators lingered just beyond the faint circles of light from the carriage lamps. She would not leave them to be devoured; nor would she lie down and wait to be torn apart herself. She was nearly there!

Desperate and trembling, but steeling her resolve, Emma moved to the front of the carriage, intending to climb up onto the driver’s box, take the reins, and break through the pack, to drive them to the castle herself. It might have been her imagination, her terror breathing life into her senses, but it felt as though the creatures drew closer still. She could almost hear the heavy pants and growls between their mournful howls and feel their hot, slavering breath on the back of her neck. A nervous glance over her shoulder showed only moving flashes of grey fur and horrifying red eyes shining out of the shadows. She had gripped the metal railing to pull herself up when all seemed to fall away, the night going perfectly still.

A dark figure glided with unnatural grace through the mass of half-seen forms. The pack almost seemed to bow their shaggy, sharp-toothed heads before it, if Emma could at all reconcile that impression in her mind. One would almost believe they had been summoned.

The slim, dark, and sinister figure appeared before her, having reached her almost before Emma could mark his movement. Wearing a fine black cloak trimmed in thick fur and reaching almost to the ground, Emma saw little else but the flash of deep garnet in its lining and the glimmer of an evil, yet irresistible, smile. A pale hand reached out of the folds of the garment, outstretched to take hers in strangely formal greeting.

“I believe you are seeking me,” a sibilant voice nearly crooned.

Emma fought back a shudder at the sight of dagger-sharp nails at the end of long fingers somehow reminiscent of spider legs, pulling her into the web. She wanted to deny his claim, but all resistance failed her. What else could she do but allow the cold, dry hand to encase her own, and pull her forward through the wolves and dark and gathering mist? This was the nightmare she had come to find…

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @cssns @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @jennjenn615 @laschatzi

@whimsicallyenchantedrose @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight

@stahlop @myfearless-love @xsajx @bluewildcatfanatic @kday426 @lfh1226-linda

@tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @jonesfandomfanatic @motherkatereloyshipper @drowned-dreamer

@anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv @xarandomdreamx @resident-of-storybrooke @everything-person

@undercaffinatednightmare @caught-in-the-filter @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @darkcolinodonorgasm

@donteattheappleshook @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @teamhook @revanmeetra87

@goforlaunchcee @laianely @belovedcreation @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot

@grimmswan @ultraluckycatnd

[wickedcriminal]

I wanna know about How to Twist a Viking's Tale 👀👀

YESSSS My written adaptation of Half Brother's AU!! I took the format of Hiccup's first person narration in the first movie and ran with it, and am experimenting with a pov switch between the two Hiccups. First person pov gets a lot of flack, but it's really not so bad, and it's been really fun to write! It saved my butt when it comes to repeat names, that's for sure 😂

Here's one of my favorite bits from Hiccup the Younger:

“I met a dragon in the woods.”

Fishlegs cringes violently. “A what?!”

“Common or garden.” I explain idly, holding out my hands about half a foot. “About this big. Green as you like. Sweet thing, really.”

Fishlegs's shoulders slump and he huffs out a sigh. “You know what, of course you're happy about this. Why am I surprised?” He follows me up the stairs at a manageable rate for his limp. “Hiccup, common or gardens are pests, not sweeties. You know that, right?”

“He's not got any teeth!!” I coo, and Fishlegs groans. “He could hardly speak any dragonese at all! I think it might have been a baby— which is strange, really, because he'd have to be a pretty big baby, common or garden babies are about the size of rabbit pups and are usually at full maturity for his size— I think he's just a cute little big baby.”

And here's a bit from Hiccup the Elder!

The night goes on. Snotlout swings by to get his axe sharpened. He cuts to the front of the line like the self righteous snotface that he is and throws the axe directly at my head. I duck quick as a Nadder and the weapon misses me by a hair, embedding itself deep into the wall behind me.

"You're supposed to catch it," Snotlout sneers. "Useless."

Now, normally this circumstance would call for some sort of reaction on my part. Some yelling, some shouting, maybe a bit of good old fashioned fist shaking, and a guarantee that 'my father the chief will hear about this, Snotface Snotlout Jorgensen!!'. Except that would indicate I hold any power in this situation at all, and I can barely hold my own sword.

"Sorry." I say automatically, because I may have dodged his axe but it's a lot harder to dodge his fists. My little brother tells me I 'practically lay myself out on the floor' to let Snotlout walk all over me— in the iron boots I made for him, no less!

(I tell Hiccup I'll make another pair to kick his butt with if he keeps bringing it up.)

[goosewriting]

Worth the trouble (rottmnt Leo/Donnie x reader)

scenario 16: (Leo) B sitting/standing behind A and leaning into them as they show/teach them how to do something. prompt 44: (Leo) “Why are you staring at me?” “Because I think you’re beautiful.” prompt 19: (Donnie) “You’re bleeding.” “No kidding.”

summary: reader gets into a fight for a rare figurine and arrives all scratched up at the lair.

relationship: Rise!Leo & Donnie x GN reader (separate)

warnings: mention of blood

word count: 1.1k

A/N: thank you sm for the redo of the request <3 hope you’ll like it! also this one’s in headcanons format because it’s a shared scenario/set-up!

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — —

For once in your life you felt like the social media algorithm was working in your favour as you got the ad for a rare limited edition vintage Lou Jitsu figure being sold at your local nerd store. You were scrolling through your feed like usual and almost choked on your snack when you saw it, and immediately got ready to leave your house. You would get that figure for your boyfriend, no matter what.

Once you got to the store however, you noticed the huge line. Luckily most of the people were there for other rare items that had just been restocked. You were pretty sure that the Lou Jitsu franchise had never been so big as for someone to come and try to snatch the precious figure away. You inwardly apologise to Splinter at the thought; if it hadn’t been for the turtles, you wouldn’t even know who Lou Jitsu was in the first place.

As it turned out, you were wrong though. The moment you laid eyes on the box on the shelves, you beelined towards it. To your surprise, just as you reached out towards it, another pair of hands mirrored you. You looked up to the stranger, about to counter them with a polite ‘I saw it first’ but the frown on their face made it clear that you wouldn't get out of this without a fight.

Now usually you’re not one to get physically violent; you leave that to the turtles, as they have actually been properly trained. That day was the first time in a very long time you threw some actual punches. The store staff didn’t seem bothered by it at all. In fact there were more than a handful of rowdy customers storming the merchandise and fighting each other.

You did land one punch to their jaw, but not without getting one to your face first. The important thing was: you ended up victorious. 

Hurrying to the register, you checked out and even got the box wrapped as a gift with a little bow and everything. The people on the street gave you some strange looks but you decided to ignore them, instead heading directly towards the lair. You just couldn't wait to see your favourite turtle’s reaction to your gift.

🔵 Leo

When you arrived at the lair, Leo’s smile immediately transformed into a frown.

He was obviously worried.

Because you have a black eye.

You tell him about what happened.

And on one side he was like: You did that? For me? 🥺

He was super happy about your gift.

Leo lifted you up in a hug and spinned you around a couple of times.

He couldn't wait to show his brothers and his dad.

On the other side he was like “I gotta teach you how to properly counter and defend”.

You pointed out that if he was gonna teach you to fight, might as well teach you to use katanas.

Since you found them very cool.

He got all smug at that obviously.

Asking you several times which part you find the coolest and don't you just swoon when you see him kicking butt etc.

You agreed to all of it, genuinely.

In the end he decided to actually teach you.

You were both in the dojo as Leo explained the basics of his katanas, adjusting your grip on them and having you hold them in different positions so you’d get a feel for their weight.

When he corrected your stance, he stood behind you and you could feel the warmth radiating off of him onto your back, which had you blushing and he knew it. Leo isn't shy about lingering touches that he played off as corrections but he was clearly trying to fluster you. He sneaked in a kiss or two as well.

Once you got the stances down more or less, he took a couple of steps back, having you repeat some movements with the blades, both defence and offence. Then he just looked at you, kinda lost in thought.

You were expecting him to correct you or make remarks about your stance, but he was just silent.

“Why are you staring at me?” you laughed, slightly embarrassed at the way his eyes roamed over you incessantly.

“Because I think you’re beautiful,” he said with a genuine smile. 

A furious blush spread on your face, and you almost let the katanas fall to the ground as your heart skipped several beats. 

🟣 Donnie

The adrenaline of the fight at the store and the excitement of bringing your gift had you unaware of your state.

But just as you were entering the lair you started feeling some stinging at the corner of your mouth.

You wiped over it, expecting it to be bruised.

But instead you felt something damp and warm.

Now you understood the looks you had gotten on the street.

You went directly to the lab, knowing you'd find Donnie there.

When you greeted him he looked up from his work, and for a split second he grimaced when he took your face.

“You’re bleeding,” he remarked.

“No kidding,” you deadpanned.

He asked what happened as he cleaned the wound.

You explained all you had to go through to get a certain object.

He asked what could possibly be worth all the trouble.

When you took out the wrapped box and passed it to him, at first he had a questioning look on his face, his drawn eyebrows rising in surprise. “For me?” he was quietly asking, as your gesture took him off-guard. 

Donnie felt a bit conflicted, knowing that you got hurt because of him indirectly. But you reassured him it was nothing and you hoped he'd like it. So he took the box cautiously, not sure what to expect. When he opened it up, you could see the roller coaster of emotions that went through  his eyes and you smiled victoriously to yourself.

The turtle thanked you, bringing you in for a hug and telling you how much he loved it, and that he couldn't wait to rub it in his brothers’ faces that he had this, and that you got it for him. 

“You’re the best partner ever,” he muttered into your shoulder as he hugged you again, and you smiled with a hum at his comment, softly swaying from side to side in his arms. He didn't let go immediately, though, so you stopped moving, holding onto him a little tighter.

“You really shouldn't go so far as to getting hurt like this for me,” he said in a quiet voice.

“Oh please, I can take a punch or two,” you retorted, pulling back to look at him and placing a quick kiss on his cheek. “Besides, you're worth it.”

At that, Donnie hugged you even tighter, and you let him hold you as long as he needed. 

~~~~~

🐥 taglist: [more info in my pinned post!] @hearteyedracoon, @maribatshipper, @whygz, @lovelylovelydreams, @o0-starboy-0o, @xnorthstar3x, @yarabutterfly, @theoriginalmintyyyshake, @dybynyght, @lieutenantlashfaz, @galaxtic-writings, @mountain-wire, @koalaray

[ekwolfwriter-blog]

I just want to get this out but I am getting tired of people complaining about Live action Katara's lack of rage in the show. Especially because now, because it is missing from the LA show, there is a general trend of people that were annoyed with her behavior before now are defending it being part of her character. And before people think I am hating on them, no. I am not against people defending her rage, as I liked it a lot growing up and watching the show causally just as the next person. Katara was one of my favorite character of being a kind person while also taking names and kicking butt, she was that awesome. So more defense for her the better. Hell, I would say from just the interviews I have seen of Kiawentiio, she has - to me - the Katara sass and I am living for it.

What I am hating on is that the Live action Katara is getting ragged on for a lot of reasons - some valid, but other are (in my opinion) surface level stupid and not knowing of what actually might have been going on during the filming of season and probably the mindset that caused her character to be deflated. Because there is a lot to consider as to why it had to be condensed either for conveniences sake or - in my personal opinion - was done on purpose by two individuals that have a track records of curving that behavior in Katara to their desire.

Also: DON'T use this as an excuse to attack the actress! She is doing her best and giving her all! She is doing her job and any slander on her will be instantly blocked! I will not take any slander on her or any of the actors!

Also, mid spoilers so read at your own risk near the bottom

First thing we should consider: the amount of episodes. Yes, I am aware of the telling and not showing arguments that are being flown around. I get it. Normally, I am one of the biggest supporters that this show needed time to breath and let be to show than telling. If it had more time to breath, Katara's rage might have been more visible and we could have had more time for her arc to improve. And this is not to say that they could not have been able to do it, but I will say that this show NEEDED more than 8 episodes to be able to get as much in (To be clear, there are some shows that this works for - Amazon's Reacher and Legend of Zorro have short seasons and formatted for hour long content. But it makes sense for those shows because they are working within parameters of their medium and are newer (both are adaptions of older stuff but still) shows that can play around with the format better). For as ambitious as this project is, it has a lot to condense. At least that it is a show and not a movie, but still. Let's not forget that it could have been so much worst if it was a movie.

Now some people will say, "Well if they were good enough writers then they could have done more to show than tell," which fair. I will admit that there are infinite number of ways that they could handled some of the topics: such as Sokka's sexism and Katara's rage that everyone is missing. But with the landscape of media as is where you would be damned if you do damned if you don't if you so much as talk about some sensitive topic and you could be canceled for it instantly! Which leads me to the next point!

Second thing to consider: Multiple season renewal was never confirmed prior. Yes, we can all complain that the shows pacing was out of place. Yes, they cut some filler. And yes, it feels like we are getting too much of the world building through talking and now showing. But can you really blame them? To most people, if you saw the reaction of the cast before the news came out, you can see they were saddened by the fact they thought would not get a season 2. They changed their tune when season 2 and 3 was confirmed, and honestly happy for them. But again, that confirms to me that the writing had failed mostly because if they were never going to get their chance, might as well go all out. And with how easy shows can get picked up and canceled, I can see they needed to try and cram it in.

Which also plays into Katara's rage - they did not know if there was going to be a chance for her to grow and get bending abilities or go through her arc as steady as the animated. Again, I am not saying losing it was good, but that we need consider that if they were not going to get another season, they had to progress faster than usual. (Side note, while I like this show, Amazon's Hazbin Hotel has the same problem. We are steam rolling through what could be slow progression and change but can't slow because of episode constriction and no time to sit and allow the show to progress because it is so easy to drop the show for the studios, might as well end it on a note that at least can feel like it was it's own story.)

Speaking of studios, that would be my next point as well: studio and producer control. While I know directors can have a say in it, we should not forget about the studio that is allowing them to make this show in the first place and what they are asking for. As I keep saying, we don't know about what their restrictions are or if they can have more than a certain amount of episodes, and maybe that is a mandate of Netflix or something else, we as the audience don't know. We don't know what happens on set or behind the filming outside of glimpses and interviews, so for all we know, there was some changes to the script or teleplay to make it seem like they needed to cut Katara's rage to make her more meek. Which if this was the whole show, fine, that is a choice but not one I will have to like. But when watching the 3rd and 4th episodes, seeing Katara being a teenage girl and angry for once and even more open about her emotions was possible. Hell, it was the only times she was allowed to snap. And guess what people: it was because of the writing this time. That feminine rage you all wanted - while faint - was there. So clearly Netflix is not solely at fault - they have many mistakes but writing is not one of them.

But it is when you look who wrote what and where and what they were going for that - to me - puts EVERYTHING into place!

Final point: the original creators being brought on.

This might seem weird because one would think having the creators on the original show should be not as bad. The creators of the show is watching to make sure that the show is just right and that the characters feel the same or at least some of the story beats feel similar enough to enjoy. Why would them being on the set cause issues with the pacing and writing?

To a casual fan, yeah that makes sense. But to those that have been in the fandom, have see what they do post cannon to ALL of the characters - especially how they treat Katara in Legend of Korra - then anyone watching might have realized that that should have been a warning sign. Especially with how they would have wanted to depict the characters. And this is also the reason I think Katara's rage is gone: I think they wanted to make her like the comics version of her being a meek and demure girl that while caring was not getting as angry or as passionate about things because that would go against what Bryke wanted Katara to be in the show.

As I mentioned before, Katara's rage or at least genuine anger was only in for about two episodes out of the 8. And if you take out the 5th and 6th where she has been basically damseled with Sokka in the spirit world, that leaves on 4 more episodes to allow her to have her anger. Typically, one can thing, "Okay we can sprinkle it here or there in the other two and it should world". But all it takes is to see who was writing the episodes that truly not only hinder the world building of the show and breaks the rules of show don't tell or crammed it in so blatantly it feels like cringe and got rid of Katara being the one to free Aang because of her anger - was Bryke! They were the ones that were the head writers of the first episode and the 8th episode. The ones that had the most cramming down your throats dialogue, the clunky explaining of Aang's character out of now where and even curving Katara's rage or ability to be angry or snarky like she was in the show. Because Bryke wrote them, and also teleplayed a few - this being like adding notes and what the camera needs to do and how to frame scenes along side the dialogue. Meaning that they had some hand in making Live Action Katara this way.

If you notice in the episodes they didn't write: Omashu and the Cave of Two lovers - they were the only ones where Katara could be a bit more snappy and a bit more annoyed and vocal toward at least Sokka and Jet - not a lot but it was there. And oh would you look at that, the episode that they did not write had HEAVY hints for a certain firebender and waterbender being hinted at and color coded the lovers more vividly. And also, Katara getting to be empathetic while also not over explaining - which many always ragged on her for - where she could be human for once. Those episodes were the ones that they did not write and the story was somewhat better (Not better but I will take it over what we got prior)

And again, casual viewers might not know why this is a bad thing or probably wondering why I am against Bryke. But all it takes is looking at what they did to animated Katara that you all try to say "Was perfect as she was before" without considering what they did to her after the curtain fell. For any fan that has been following the show, you will find that most fans of Katara - the animated one -did not like what they did to her in the comics that continued their story and Legend of Korra, where she was a husk of a shell of her former self. And how she was all about "What Aang would have done, and what Aang did and oh how I missed Aang, he would know what to do". And yet, if she even showed any anger or negative emotions, she was painted as the bad person - easily look up Katara in the comics with a google search and you can see her being pushed around and flattened almost all the time when she is showing negative emotions that are genuine and not the funny mad in the show. Especially in the show as seen through this post, it did not always paint her anger in a natural thing for her or reinforced her angry as more comedic than actually something to consider as important until someone else stepped in to help her see it *cough* Zuko *cough*.

So to all the people that are trying to come after the live action Katara as being "Not the same energy girl power character who was expressive about her anger" you all "loved from the start'', please consider who and what was behind the scenes to make her this way. Especially since the animated show had other writers besides Bryke that understood Katara better if not more. Bryke wanted her to be more demure even in the pilot, and damsel. And yet the other writers gave her an actual story. Byrke have shown time and time again they do not want and angry passionate water bender that wants to be more active in changing the wrongs in the world, they want her to be more meek and docile and not fight back to let others save her in the comics and after. The OG had other writers that gave her her arc and Mae Whitmen give her the sass that we all love.

Live action Katara is no different. She has been trying to come into her own - with limited time to tell a story, limited time to get her arcs in fearful of cancellation, and with different writers, she can work, but not with Bryke. Same goes for the other characters too, not just Katara, but it seems that everyone pokes at Katara more and it is getting frustrating because some of these people just can never be happy with Katara.

Hopefully with season 2 and 3, we can have more time to flesh out the characters and maybe even have more show don't tell moments and being able to explore their feelings more. But only time will tell.

Rant over, sorry for the rambling mess.

[breakfast-cereal]

Unlikely Allies 

pairing: Kotallo X Reader

pronouns: she/her

word count: 11k 

description: Blood runs thicker than water, but when your sister continues to make a string of poor decisions, you find yourself creating unlikely allies. 

warnings: canon-typical violence

requested by: @alicemadnessruturns​

notes: So sorry this took so long. This is probably one of the longest things I’ve written to date. Also, tumblr messed up the formatting so bad on this one so I’ll likely post it on ao3 as well for a better formatted version.

Regalla’s bitterness was carnivorous. It fed off the rage that blinded her vision. She sat next to you on a tall stone overlooking a canyon. She was sharpening her blade for the next Oseram caravan that had the misfortune of passing by. 

“You have that look in your eyes.” 

You shut your eyes tightly to avoid her harsh stare. “What look?”

“Judgement.” Regalla stood abruptly. She tightened her grip on her blade. Regalla came to the canyon’s edge, so close you were worried she would jump, and scowled. You lifted yourself from the rock and dusted your hands on your armour. You placed a firm hand on her shoulder, as if that would stop her from plummeting, before joining her on the edge. A scowl the same as hers spread across your lips. A flash of fiery red hair rode between the canyon on an overridden Charger. Since taking her first step into the West, the Saviour of Meridian has been working to take down the Rebels. 

“I should kill her for even daring to step foot into Tenakth territory.” Regalla pointed her blade forward, but you placed your hand on its tip. 

“Now is not the time, Regalla. And I would never judge you. You’re the only family I’ve got left, after all.” 

Regalla grunted and brought her blade back to her side. She placed the butt in the dust. “Then when is the time? Should I let her destroy my entire army before I take action?” 

Regalla readied her blade once again. Aloy stood at the side of her Charger, searching through the dust. It felt abnormal. Aloy was luring Regalla out with the only thing that compelled her: revenge. You grabbed Regalla’s blade and threw it to the ground. She spun to face you, anger burning in her eyes, and opened her mouth to accuse you. 

“Now is not the time,” you repeated. “There could be more of them. Doesn’t this seem like a setup to you? You were the best warrior I knew, but know you’re too blinded by your own rage to see the obvious! We can never fight back if you aren’t alive to lead the army.”

“You do not get to decide when my time is,” she bellowed. She grabbed her blade. Dust clouded her eyes, yet she didn’t blink. After the Red Raids, she was no longer driven by her senses. She was driven by the fire her blades were forged from and the blood of those who got in her way. 

“I can’t afford to lose you,” you shouted in return. “You’re the only one I have left. Please, Regalla, this isn’t worth it.” Regalla scoffed. It felt like you were battling a force of nature, an immovable wall. 

“Stop talking.” She ran to the canyon’s edge and propelled herself down. You chased her, coughing up dust from the handholds. 

“Prepare yourself, Saviour,” Regalla roared. 

Aloy spun to face you and Regalla with a determined look in her eyes. She held her spear out in a challenge. Regalla charged her and landed a swift kick to her stomach. Aloy stumbled, but rapidly regained her balance. She launched her spear forward and barely missed Regalla’s shoulder. Regalla got a slash of her blade into Aloy’s side. Aloy groaned in pain. Regalla swiped Aloy’s legs out from under her and kicked her spear to the side. She stood above Aloy with triumph blazing in her eyes. 

“This is for the blood of the Tenakth you and your allies have spilled.” Regalla pointed a shining blade to Aloy’s face. 

You watched in horror as Regalla failed to notice the Saviour grasping for her spear. In the blink of an eye, Aloy stabbed her spear through Regalla’s thigh and ran. You reached for your bow and aimed it at Aloy as she rode away on her Charger. You drew the string back and fired a flaming arrow. It hit the back of her Charger. You prepared another arrow, but Aloy was too far down the canyon. You turned your attention to Regalla, who was stumbling after Aloy. 

“I will kill you, Saviour. I will kill you and all those who opposed me and sided with the ones who butchered the Tenakth.” She spat, before collapsing onto the rocky, orange ground. 

You jogged to Regalla’s side and dropped onto your knees beside her. She held a dust covered hand to her bleeding thigh. The blood seeped through her fingers and stained a red line down her painted leg.  “There’s an outpost close-by. They should have the supplies to help,” you said. You stood up and offered a hand to Regalla. She smacked it away.

“You let the Saviour get away. The Ten would be disappointed in what you’ve become.” Pulling herself up, Regalla limped down the canyon toward Aloy.

You ignored the hurt blooming in your stomach and trailed after Regalla. “You will bleed out searching for her.”

“I would die a warrior’s death.”

You clenched your fists. “You would not die a warrior’s death, you would die of your own stupidity. And to insult me by saying the Ten would be disappointed is hypocritical. Look at yourself. You are about to leave your warrior’s behind.”

Regalla’s shoulders tensed. Her fists clenched and unclenched. “I will meet you at the outpost before sundown.”

You paced across the dirt in front of Regalla. She laid on a cot with one leg up and the other covered in a red-stained cloth bandage. 

“The traitors are on watch,” she began. “The Saviour must have alerted them of my presence. There is a small settlement near the outpost of about fifteen.” Regalla turned towards you. “Tell the soldiers to prepare their weapons.” 

“Is it the best idea to do that while you’re injured?”

“There is no time to waste. If we don’t strike first, they will ambush us while we sleep. My injury will not be the primary concern if a faction of my army is found dead,” Regalla said. 

You weren’t in the mood to fight. Your eyelids were heavy, and you wanted the comfortable embrace of a blanket, but you understood where Regalla was coming from. There was too much of a risk if you left them alive when they had the upper hand. 

You stepped onto the balcony overlooking the Rebels. Some laughed around fires; their hands dancing and beer spilling as they told stories of their greatest battles. Others laid on the ground, clutching injuries and staring into the abyss of the night sky. There was a vivid contrast between them, but in the end, they were all here for the same cause. 

You stood next to the guard railing and shouted, “We’re attacking. Prepare yourselves, soldiers!” 

The soldiers scrambled into place. Many of them were still putting on headgear by the time you reached them. Regalla was behind you. She had a faint limp you knew she would deny.

“We will ride out and take out these traitors that dare step foot into our territory. I would like you two,” she pointed at a dark-skinned person with tied back cornrows and a fair-skinned woman with a shaved head, “to join me. The rest of you will rain arrows onto them from above. Remember what we are here for; to destroy the Carja!” She let out a cry and raised her blade in the air. 

You crept through the tall grass. It tickled the side of your jaw. There were two Tenakth outside the settlement keeping watch. 

The woman with the shaved head grimaced. “I know them.”

“I hope that will not stop you from achieving our goal,” Regalla said. She pushed onward as a flaming arrow pierced the helmet of the taller guard. 

“It would never. Sacrifices have to be made,” she said, but her voice shook. 

The other guard peered around. Before the guard went to alert the settlement, another arrow hit them. 

The inside of the settlement was a bloodbath. Regalla shared no mercy with these Tenakth. They may have been your own kind, but to her, they were no better than Carja. Most of them were young fighters. It was obvious this was supposed to be a training mission. You felt bad seeing them beg because you knew Regalla didn’t care. 

You and Regalla pushed into a hole between two rocky ledges. She had sent the two others to clean up any remaining stragglers. 

“Why are we coming this way?” You questioned.

“I saw one of them run this way. Coward. Too scared to fight like a proper Tenakth. The alliance with the Carja has made them weak.” 

You advanced further. Someone was curled against the rock. She looked up at you. Your eyes widened with shock. It was Nettah. She was your training partner when you were in your teens. You had been close friends until Regalla swiped you away to fight against the Tenakth.

“Y/n,” she began, but Regalla cut her off.

“Nettah. It is disappointing to see you fighting against me when your own father died at the hands of the Carja.”

“I would never fight for someone like you.” She spat at Regalla’s feet. “You are nothing more than a traitor, led by your own selfish desires. It is not shocking to me you conned your own sister into fighting a war that never needed to happen.” Nettah stared defiantly. She was always brave. She would hold her head high against anyone that tried to disrespect you or her. 

“It is a shame you think of me like that. You would have been a valuable resource to my army.” Regalla sliced her blade into Nettah’s head. Her blood splashed across your face. Your hands shook on your thighs as you bent over and vomited into the grass. 

“You cannot let trivial things get to you, sister.” Regalla walked out of the rocks, leaving you to stare at your own vomit and bloody mess of a friend. You placed your hand tightly over your mouth to stop the sounds of your sobbing. 

You took a moment to compose yourself and left the rocks to survey the settlement. Bodies of Tenakth, Rebels and not, were strewn across the grass. Familiar faces stared at you. Even in death, their eyes held horror at who you’ve become. In Regalla’s attempt to destroy the Carja, she had destroyed the lives of innocent Tenakth. You allowed her to. She would storm into camps and slaughter them before the sun set. You did not dare stop her. You wanted to be sick again, but there was nothing left to throw up. It may have been too late to save the dead, but you had to save the living. You hoped the Ten would forgive your betrayal.

The rocky ledge dug into your stomach. You surveyed the desert. There was no sign of the Saviour like you hoped—only a cluster of Leaplashers. You frowned and lifted yourself off the edge, but saw movement near them. An arrow exploded the fire canister of one of the Leaplashers. The Leaplashers charged towards the shooter. A familiar spear pierced the power cell of a Leaplasher and it crumbled to the ground. You didn’t want to waste possibly your only chance to speak to the Saviour. You lept off the edge and pulled your charred iron blades from the leather pouch on your back. The Leaplasher’s power cell glowed an ugly yellow. You stabbed a blade through it, taking down the Leaplasher before it had time to retaliate. It leaked a greyish fluid onto your sandal. You flicked your foot with disgust. There was no time to wonder what that fluid even was. The Saviour took down the last Leaplasher and whipped her head towards you. You opened your mouth to speak, but someone quickly embedded an arrow into the rock behind you.

“By the Ten, I am trying to help you. I would have already killed you if I were going to.” You raised your hands in surrender as you spoke.

“Who says I need your help?” Aloy examined you and crossed her arms across her chest. 

You rubbed the back of your neck. A pang of guilt shot through you. “I have information you may need. Regalla will kill you—anyone—who is not ten steps ahead of her. I understand it’s unorthodox, but I could be a useful ally to you, Saviour.” 

“Why the sudden change of heart? Last time we spoke, you had a bowstring drawn at me.”

“The revenge Regalla is seeking is wasting the lives of the innocent. I fear she will become what she despises.” You took a deep breath. “I want to help you stop her. Before things go too far. That is what you are in the West for?”

Aloy raised an eyebrow. “And why should I trust you?”

“If I tell you where Regalla plans to go after next, will you trust me?”

Aloy hummed, “maybe.”

Regalla was in a sour mood this evening. She hunched over a yellowed map with outpost locations, her brows furrowed. The troops she sent out had not returned, and you had a feeling you knew why. 

A short, tan-skinned Tenakth cautiously knocked on the doorframe. Regalla didn’t bother looking up. 

“The faction you sent out has been killed, Chief. The others you sent looking for them just returned,” he said. 

Regalla nodded, but remained silent. The boy wrung his hands, about to speak, but decided against it. Regalla waited for the boy to leave and let out a curse. She clenched her hands into a fist and smashed it against the table. You bumped your hip against the table, causing the ink to splatter across the map. You prayed to the Ten that Regalla would think it was her own doing. Even if she didn’t, she smacked the map to the floor and stormed out of the room. You waited for her to be out of your sight and rolled the map. You placed it into a bag with your supplies that were hidden under a cot. 

The bag was heavy on your shoulder. You felt the map burning through the fabric of the bag and your armour. Aloy instructed you to meet at a Metal Devil near Scalding Spear. It was strange being in this area. You remembered visiting Scalding Spear as a child. To think you had become disconnected from it now. 

You spotted a clump of red in the distance, something you identified the Saviour with. It shocked you to see her on an overridden machine, but realized she must have the tools to do it as well. It was possible she even knew Sylens: the one who had taught Regalla a technological side of the world she never knew before. As Aloy approached, you realized she wasn’t alone. Behind her there was a tall, one-armed Tenakth. He wore Sky Clan face paint, which was probably why you couldn’t recognize him. It was abnormal for a member of Sky Clan to be so far into the desert, but you thought little of it. Everyone had their reasons for displacement. Your eldest brother brought you into the mountains the Sky Clan lived in once, though your parents frowned upon your exposure to their so called ‘cowardice.’ 

“You have the map with you?” Aloy asked as she huffed, wiping sand out of her eyes. The Tenakth guarded her and eyed you suspiciously. 

You unclasped your bag and laid the map into her outstretched hand. 

“It is covered in ink. How is it supposed to be useful to us if it is unreadable?” The Tenakth frowned, crossing his arms.

“I couldn’t just steal it. I had to ruin it somehow, so she—Regalla—would get rid of it. And the important parts are perfectly legible. I made sure of it.”

He seemed displeased, but made no further comment. Aloy laid it out on the sand and brushed her fingers across the inked marks. You could see the image of Regalla making the marks. Her brows furrowed in concentration as she planned out the next attack. Every mark made with the utmost thought. Terrible things could be said about her, but she was a dedicated warrior. You wanted to pull the map back into your chest and hide Regalla’s mind from them. You wondered if this was the right decision. If Regalla found out about your betrayal, you worried what would become of her. 

You pushed past your guilt and began explaining the map. “The lines are major routes. They’re the routes Regalla has deemed best fit to bring her army across the desert without suspicion. The circles represent traitor camps.” You thanked the Ten that they couldn't see the other side of the map. You would not stoop so low to sell out innocent people.

“I would not consider those who are not butchering their own people traitors,” the Tenakth said. You bit back a bitter comment.

Aloy placed the map into a pouch on her charger. She pulled a small triangle out of the pouch. 

“You can use this to contact me if anything major is going to happen by tapping it twice. Otherwise, we meet here weekly.” Aloy slides the triangular device on top of your ear. It was supposed that you would have to get used to wearing headgear. You tapped once it and your surroundings lit up in translucent blue. You tapped in a second time and the blue disappeared. It reminded you of the visions of the Ten in Memorial Grove.

You nodded, “thank you.” 

Sylens had contacted Regalla recently. The machines they had overridden had nearly tripled since the contact. Some Rebel outposts recently set up in the jungle began overriding Fireclaws. You sensed something major was happening, but Regalla avoided speaking of such details around you. 

You hated resorting to spying. It reminded you of lying beneath cots, listening in on the details of the Red Raids. Spying was how you found out about the death of your brothers. You doubted Regalla would have told you otherwise. This time, you did not hide you beneath a cot. You were pressed up against a straw wall, straining your ears to hear what Regalla said to the high-ranking soldier. 

“Are you sure we should do this?” The soldier said with uncertainty. 

“A false image of safety blinds Tekotteh. He would not dare involve himself. The machines would serve as an advantage for the camps.” 

There was a pause in the conversation. You leaned up closer to the straw to hear any whispers. Footsteps came from behind you, and you jumped away from the wall like it had burnt. 

“Y/n,” he greeted. “Regalla is busy at the moment. Wait if you need to speak to her.” 

You adjusted your headpiece. You were constantly aware of the weight of the device sitting on your ear. “There’s no need. I was coming by to collect some things.” 

He nodded and continued down the stairs. You sighed a sigh of relief, hurrying away from the other Rebels. Once you were in a secluded spot, you tapped your focus twice simultaneously. 

“Aloy,” you began, but were promptly interrupted. 

“Aloy is not available at the moment,” a voice said. The Tenakth. 

“Well, then I need to speak to whoever is available.”

“I assumed we were already speaking.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “You’re Sky Clan, aren’t you?”

He paused, uncertain. “I do not see why that information is important.”

“Regalla is planning to do something big there: at the Bulwark. I heard her speaking about it with a high-ranking soldier. I believe it is related to the machines she has learned to override”

“When,” he demanded. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Find out, quickly.” You went to speak, but the focus channel cut out. 

“By the Ten,” you hissed. 

Regalla arranged the troops. You heard her voice call, loud and booming, to get prepared to go out. You snuck off to the corner to contact Aloy. who seemed to still be gone. The only response you got was from the aggravating Tenakth. The only thing you did was give him the bare details. Whatever Regalla was doing, she was doing it now. 

Around the soldiers, you heard talk of the Wings of the Ten. You could find them in and around the Bulwark, which could only mean one thing. Regalla had learnt to control the Wings of the Ten. You took a deep breath to steady yourself and joined the other soldiers. Regalla looked at you, but said nothing, only pointing to a Bristleback. Her recent behaviour towards you made you worry she knew of your betrayal. It could be nothing. Regalla went through periods of coldness and distance. You still felt sick at the thought she figured it out so easily. 

The ride to the Bulwark was silent and filled with tension. Since you met with Aloy, there had been some Rebels who had attempted to leave the rebellion. Regalla had killed them. The death of the soldiers had created a rift between Rebels. Some believed Regalla had no right, but others stood with her fully. You heard of the fights that broke out in other outposts over it. No one in your outpost dared say a thing. They were too close to Regalla to speak out. 

Regalla stopped you at a mountain a few miles out from the Bulwark near a lake. You stepped away from the group to contact the Tenakth, but felt eyes heavy on you. You turned to see the soldier Regalla spoke to privately, staring at you. He would have clearly had to find his way over by himself. Regalla commanded some soldiers up the mountain with ropes. You went to follow, but she placed a hand on your chest, stopping you.

“Follow the others to the outpost nearby. You are needed there”

“And I am not needed here?”

Regalla sneered. She blocked the pathway with her body. You rolled your eyes and turned around. Internally, you couldn’t shake the anxiety. 

You stood away from the other Rebels at the outpost, looking for the one-armed man. It was possible he didn’t believe you and decided not to come, but you had the feeling the anxiousness lacing his voice was not fake. You used a stick in front of you to draw patterns aimlessly into the snow. Regalla sent you here to wait, nothing more. She wanted to get rid of you. Or maybe freeze you to death because your armour was not meant for the cold terrain of the Sky Clan territory. 

You heard rustling in the bushes ahead. You squinted and recognized the armour of the Tenakth. Clearly, someone else had as well. You watched as a Rebel snuck up behind him. They had their bowstring drawn back and aimed at his head. The blow would surely kill him. You reacted automatically. You ran and tackled the Rebel to the ground. Shock painted their features. The Tenakth spun around to look at the scene. It would probably look funny to any other. The Rebels, turning on each other already. You debated killing them. It would be easier and reduce the risk of them crawling back to Regalla, but you couldn’t bring yourself to it.

You climbed off them and pointed to the forest. “Go. If I see you around the Rebels again, I will kill you.” It was an empty threat, but it clearly hit them hard as they scampered off into the forest. 

You looked to the Tenakth. He seemed to be grateful. 

“Come, I’ll show you where the rest of them are.”

You walked along the stones leading to the mountain. The cold left goosebumps on your exposed skin 

“Why did you not kill them?” The Tenakth asked after a long bout of silence.

“The others would find the body,” you lied. He didn’t need to know the real reason: that you were a coward. 

“They will find out they ran away.”

“It’s not a concern. They’ll assume he disagreed with Regalla’s recent behaviour.”

“Infighting,” he laughed. “You are falling apart already. A bond built by revenge is weak.” 

“And the traitors are siding with the people who butchered and oppressed their people. There are problems everywhere.” He frowned, his wrinkles deepened by the face paint. “I heard the wall at the Bulwark fell,” you added and hoped it stung.

He smiled. “It humbled Tekotteh well. He is not as safe as he once thought.” 

You said nothing, annoyed that your insult did not upset him. 

“Here,” you motioned. “Regalla and the Rebels are up that mountain.”

His jaw tensed. “I did not realize Regalla would be here.” 

“Do you want to look or not?”

“Yes,” he responded immediately. 

You ducked into a bush on the mountains and surveyed the scene. Rebels were sneaking up on the Wings of the Ten, attempting to capture them with ropes. You noticed Regalla speaking to a holographic Sylens in the corner. Regalla seemed agitated. 

“They must be trying to override them. I have seen Aloy do it with Chargers,” the Tenakth said. 

“I assumed so. Regalla has recently learnt to override a lot of machines. I heard there’s even Fireclaws at some bases in the jungle.”

“And you did not think to tell us that?”

“I thought you could wait the week to find out,” you retorted. “What do you plan to do about this, anyway? We can’t run in there and stop it. That poses too much of a risk.”

“I know,” he huffed. “I will let Aloy know of what I see here.”

“I could’ve done that on my own. Sneaking around like this will raise suspicion.”

“Aloy would like a trusted source to tell her information like this.”

You pressed your lips tightly together. After what you had done for the Saviour, yet she still did not trust you. 

“Chief, I think I see movement in the bush!” A soldier shouted. Your breath halted. 

“Quickly, move. I’ll stand in front of you to block their view,” you said, pushing him in the opposite direction.

You stood up shakily and looked at the soldier. Regalla’s upper lip curled. 

“Sneaking around to spy on me like you did when we were children, Y/n,” she scowled. Regalla swirled her finger in the air. “Collect everyone. There is nothing more we need here.” 

“Are you alone?” Aloy asked through the focus. You stumbled back at the sudden noise. You looked around. There were Rebels eating meals around you.

“No.”Regalla

She hummed. “I need you to get something. It’s a small piece of metal. It looks a little like a key to a chest. Regalla most likely has it stored in her bedroom. When you find it, bring it to our meeting today.”

You sighed. If you were lucky, Regalla would be out. 

The Ten must have been looking upon you. Regalla was out on what was seemingly a hunting trip. Her blades and armour were missing from their usual place. You crept into her room like a thief sneaking into a palace. There was a snubbed out a candle on her desk next to a partially empty map. You pulled open the desk drawers and ran your hands along the inside. There was nothing but a quill and some ink. You went over to the wooden chest lying on the floor. It had a heavy lock on it, but you weren’t unfamiliar with lock picking. You took two arrows out of the quiver on your back and hesitated before breaking off the tips. It was awful to ruin arrows like this. You used the metal on your chest plate to file the stone tips of the arrows down into a point. You inserted one into the lock and used the other to pick. The lock clicked, and you pulled it off. Inside the chest was a collection of scrolls, a map, and a small burlap sack. There was a small piece of metal in the sack. It resembled a key. You rolled it in your hands and stuffed it up your vambrace. This had to be the piece Aloy was looking for. If not, you had wasted two perfectly good arrows. You put the tip of one arrow you used to open the chest into the sack to mimic the previous weight. As you clicked the lock closed, you heard someone clearing their throat. You froze. 

“What are you doing here, Y/n?” It was the soldier that Regalla conspired with.

You scratched the back of your neck. “I was looking for something. Am I not allowed to enter my sister’s room?”

He pursed his lips, but continued walking. You clutched the vambrace the metal was in 

Aloy was not there. Instead, she sent the Tenakth to meet you. He watched you as you walked up the mountain, a permanent scowl embedded on his face. 

“Do you have it?” He asked.

You rolled your eyes. “No, I left it with some Scroungers and thought they’d take care of it. Better go searching.”

“So you do not have it? If you do not have the component, what is the point of you being here?” 

You pulled it out of your vambrace and handed it to him. You debated mentioning the fact you were nearly caught taking it, but decided against it. He seemed to be pleased by it. You made your way back down the mountain. You noticed movement out of the corner of your eye. Before you could react, a Fanghorn’s horn pierced your torso. You turned and stabbed its power cell with your blade. There was an entire herd of them barely 100 metres out. You close your eyes, took a deep breath and charged into the herd holding both your blades. Your wound stung, but you were taught at a young age that a true warrior doesn’t let their injuries stop them. You grunted as you took down the first Fanghorn. A second Fanghorn charged at you. You stabbed your blade into it, but only hit its resource container. You turned around rapidly to kill it and felt a sharp pull at the site of your injury. Wincing, you placed a hand over it. It wasn’t deep enough to cause any major damage; your armour had done a good job of protecting you, but it was noticeable. The Fanghorn you stabbed collapsed to the ground. Confused, you looked around. The Tenakth had his spear dug into the Fanghorn. You watched the flex of his bicep as he pulled his spear from the Fanghorn’s body. He came closer to you and pierced his spear into a Fanghorn behind you. For a moment, you were convinced he was going to stab you. 

“Are you able to fight?” He looked down at your hand covering your wound.

“Not as bad as it looks,” you said through gritted teeth. 

You lifted a blade into your available hand and met the rest of the Fanghorns. Together, you killed the rest of the pack. His hand worked skillfully to change the grip of his spear when needed. His brow furrowed and lips closed tightly in concentration. You would begrudgingly admit that the way he fought was impressive. You wiped sweat from your forehead and sat down against the mountainside. He sat down beside you, wheezing. 

“You fight well. It may be your only good quality,” you said. 

“As do you. I see why Aloy considered you a valuable resource.” 

“I don’t think my fighting abilities are what she sees in me.” You placed a hand over your eyes to block out the sun.

“It is always useful to have an ally who knows her way around a weapon.” He took another look at your hand on your torso. “May I look at your injury?”

“If you’d like. It’s not that bad. I’m more upset that my armour is ruined.” You took your hand away from the wound. It was sticky with your blood. He touched his hand to the hole in your armour. 

“It is fixable. Your armour will be fine.” You felt the ghost of his fingers on your skin. They were warm, most likely due to the fighting you were just doing. “Your wound will heal, but it must be stitched.” You could nearly feel his breath on your ear with how close he was. 

You pushed yourself up and away from him. “I’ve had worse. I’ll stitch it myself later.” You picked up your blades from beside you. “Thank you.”

He nodded. You felt the need to say more. 

“What’s your name?” you blurted. 

He stared at you. “Kotallo.” You recognized the name. He was a Marshal. Regalla disliked him even before the rebellion. 

You considered telling him your name, but it risked revealing your relation to Regalla. He might know already. You took his silence as your cue to leave. 

The medical supplies the Tenakth had on hand were lacking. You searched across camp to find thread and bandages. Thankfully, there was a small tin of salve and a clean sewing needle hidden deep in a drawer of the understocked medical area. You had your full waterskin next to you to wash off any lingering dirt and a small knife to cut the thread. There would be no point in sewing up the area to die of infection. 

You settled yourself on to your cot, removing the leather skirt and belt of your armour. The skirt was thick and settled just below your waist. Your cropped chest piece revealed the clan paint across your midriff and arms. You held up the skirt and belt to assess the damage. There was a sizeable hole in both of them. You were lucky the Fanghorn pierced you where it did. Any higher and it would have hit unprotected skin or your lungs. You could deal with the damage done to your armour later. Your main priority was to clean and suture your wound. You uncorked your waterskin and doused your wound with the water. You hissed as you scrubbed at the wound to remove any crusted blood and clan paint. You threaded the needle with shaky hands, missing the eye of the needle multiple times. Once the needle was threaded, you looked down at your cut to find the best spot to begin. One side of the injury was split longer than the other and you decided it would be best to start there. Wincing, you slid the needle into your skin and stitched. You had done this multiple times before, but it was always an uncomfortable process. You finished your last stitch and tied a knot at the end of the thread, cutting away the excess with the knife next to you. You admired your handy work. It would leave a scar, but you already had many of those. Tenakth wore their scars with pride. They showed the battles they faced. You opened the tin of salve and slathered some over the sutured wound. It would calm the inflammation and help with pain. You would have to avoid putting paint over it until it healed. You ran your fingers along it, still feeling Kotallo’s touch even hours later. There was no point thinking too much of it. You had not been touched with care, if you could even call it that, in a while. Your mind was making too much of it because it was foreign. Still, as you put your skirt and belt back on, you could almost feel the way his breath hit your ear. You involuntarily shivered. Perhaps a nap would help you get over this. 

You dreamt of Kotallo. It was an uncomfortable realization to make for an even more uncomfortable awakening. Regalla shook you awake. She leaned over you with a panicked expression. You had not seen that panic in Regalla’s eyes since she was begging for your brothers’ mercy. 

“The Saviour. She is on the Wings of the Ten and is attacking camps. She has taken out three of our major outposts.” ‘And I fear we are next,’ was left unsaid, but you could tell she thought about it. 

You grimaced. The component you gave Aloy must have been the override to the Wings of the Ten. You almost felt hurt that she was attacking camps like this, but even if you were helping her, you were still on opposite sides of this battle. This could be your moment to fight against Regalla and show her that there is something better, but you felt obligated to stay with her. She was your sister. You hadn’t known Aloy for over two months. You slid off your cot and stood next to Regalla. She handed you your weapons. 

“Now is the time. I waited to kill the Saviour, and she has fallen right into my hands. I hope she will not die a coward’s death.” You felt a deep worry settle in the pit of your stomach. There was so much that could go wrong in this situation. You wanted to tell Regalla to leave it, but Aloy was murdering innocent Rebels and you would not stand for it. 

You heard a loud crash. You and Regalla looked at each other simultaneously and rushed down the stairs. There were bodies of Rebels and sounds of battle outside the outpost. It reminded you of the Tenakth camp Regalla raided. Regalla had done the same as Aloy. Maybe even for the same reasons. You felt ill and suddenly could not stand to face Regalla, but you could not stand to face Aloy either. 

Relief washed over you as Regalla spoke. “I’m going to search for the Saviour. Search for any remaining survivors.” 

The relief faded when you registered the amount of injured Rebels and lack of medical supplies. Even if there were survivors, they would die of their untreated injuries. Not that there were many survivors. It was disheartening to look down and see many familiar faces lying dead in the sand. Nearly identical to the Tenakth camp raid, to Nettah. You prayed to the Ten the Rebels that hunted Aloy would survive. You even prayed that Aloy would survive. Suddenly, a hand grasped your ankle. You looked down to see the face of the dark-skinned soldier Regalla called for during the camp raid. 

“Please,” they murmured. “She put the Wings of the Ten against us.” They had claw marks lining their back. You grabbed on to their arms and hauled them up. 

“I’ll bring you somewhere more comfortable.” You had no time to patch them up. It made you feel intensely guilty as you laid them down, face first, onto a cot. The most you could do was hope for the best. 

There was no point sticking around to search through more dead bodies. You reminded yourself that you can’t stew on death when there are living people in danger. You rushed out of the gates in search of the Saviour, hoping you could talk her down. The fighting in the distance had silenced. It was not a comforting silence. You feared the worst happened. You followed a trail of heavy footsteps on the ground until you saw Regalla by the Wings of the Ten. She rooted through a saddlebag with a deep frown on her face. She noticed your presence and turned to face you. You saw her holding the stained map in her fist. Your eyes widened, and she tensed her fist around the map. She walked to you, like storm clouds rolling over the sky, and shoved the map so viciously into your chest you nearly fell. 

“Coward,” she hissed. Her voice was filled with venom as she shoved you again. “To think my own sister betrayed me!”

“Regalla, please. It’s not what you think.” Your words sounded hollow. 

“You disgust me. You are no different from the Carja.” She spat at your feet. 

“You were killing your own people! You can’t see what your actions have done.” There was no point in denying it any further. If Regalla wanted to spit venom at you, you would spit it back. 

“They were not my people. They were traitors. The same as you. We lost everything to the Carja, yet you side with them.”

“You are only hurting people, Regalla! You have butchered entire camps, the same the Saviour has done to us.” Regalla clenched her jaw so tightly you worried her teeth would snap.

“Leave,” she said, eerily calm. “You have chosen your side. There is no place for a traitor with the Rebels.” Regalla brushed past you. 

You stood and watched Regalla leave with a blank look. You wondered where you were supposed to find shelter. You could not return to Arrowhand or Scalding Spear as if you were not—had not been—in the rebellion that fought against them. You doubted the Saviour would entrust you enough to even merely suggest the location of her camp. Perhaps one of the Oseram caravans would take pity on you. There was grunting behind you. You turned around to see the Saviour, doubled over, wiping sweat off her brow. You wanted to shout at Aloy for the massacre she had committed, but you knew she was doing what she thought was right. She didn’t know the Rebels like you did. She only thought of them as people who murdered and pillaged anyone who stepped into the West, which wasn’t exactly false. You understood she did what she had to survive, but her actions weren’t without hurt. 

“Regalla has found out I’m working with you,” you said. You weren’t sure if you said it because you thought she deserved to know or if you just felt the need to tell someone. 

Aloy cringed. “She didn’t take it well, did she? At least she didn’t kill you.”

You clenched your jaw, feeling the need to defend Regalla’s honour. “You may think poorly of Regalla, but she would stoop so low to kill her own family.” After you said it, you realized what you said. You covered your mouth to stop anymore information from spilling out 

Aloy’s eyes went wide in shock. “I thought you were one of her Marshals.” She squinted at you like Regalla’s face would appear as your own. 

“I never deceived you, if that’s what you’re suggesting.” You heard the venom in your voice. You wanted to remain calm, to keep your head clear, but your sister had practically disowned you and you spoke to the person who slaughtered Rebels. 

“You aren’t your family. You’ve been a useful ally, Regalla has not. What will she do to you now that she found out you’re working against her?” Aloy’s response shocked you. You expected her to renounce your allyship.

“She might tell the other Rebels. I won’t be able to get you information from her as easily as I used to. I don’t think she’d appreciate seeing me spying around.” 

Aloy chewed on her lip, visibly considering something. “Regalla doesn’t want you around?”

“I don’t hold it against her. I knew my betrayal would hurt her, but I naively thought she wouldn’t figure it out,” you said. 

“I could use your help if you’re willing to stay at my base. There are bigger issues than Regalla that I believe you would be an important ally on.” 

You weighed your options. “It depends who you want me to fight against.” You crossed your arms. 

Aloy taped her focus and scrolled to show you a man in a futuristic-looking silver suit. “The old ones.”

You bit down on your lip. “You start fights with anyone, don’t you?” 

Aloy raised a brow at you. “Is that a no?”

“It’s not. If you think I can help, I will.” Aloy motioned you to follow her onto the Wings of the Ten. You carefully swung your legs onto it. Never in your life did you expect to be this close to one, let alone ride it. 

“Hold on,” Aloy said. “It’s a rough takeoff.” 

Aloy’s base hid in the side of a mountain. You felt the cold from the snowy tips of the mountain brushing against your exposed skin. You were not made for mountains. Aloy placed her palm to the middle of the door and it gradually opened. The hallway was stainless steel with Tenakth armour strewn about. It felt unnatural. You searched for the scorching sun beating down on your skin, and the sand that clung to your armour. 

“Are you coming?” Aloy crossed her arms at the door. You still felt a twinge of resentment when you looked at her. You saw the faces of the Rebels she slaughtered in her eyes. 

You walked through the open door and were shocked to see a myriad of faces staring at you. Kotallo sat at a Strike board with a man wearing Oseram armour. The Oseram was losing. Leaning against a counter was a tall Nora man and an Utaru woman. They were too deep in conversation to notice you. A woman poked her head out of a room with a shocked expression on her face. She wore armour you couldn’t recognize and sported a triangle similar to Aloy’s.

Kotallo moved a piece on the board, and the man across from him groaned and placed his head in his hands. Kotallo turned to face you and seemed confused. You tightened your grip on the sheathed knife on your waist. You felt exposed in this unfamiliar place. The woman in the door opened her mouth to say something to Aloy, but Aloy shot her a look that made her promptly retreat. Aloy brought you further into the base to the sleeping quarters. They decorated the cots with artifacts. One cot had plants surrounding it, which you could immediately tell was the Utaru’s. 

“You can put your stuff down on a bed. I’ll fill you in when you’re done.” 

You had nothing to put away, but you couldn’t face walking out and seeing strange faces scrutinizing you. You sat down on the furthest cot on the left side. The walls were the same stainless steel that coated the rest of the base. The absence of any natural light made you feel claustrophobic. How did Kotallo tolerate this? You had barely been there for ten minutes, and you were already itching to run back into the desert. You were thankful Aloy let you into her base, though. She put more trust in you than you could ever imagine without even knowing your name. You took a deep breath and went to leave, but heard whispering by the door. You ducked behind a cot and placed your ear against the wall.

“Do you even realize who that is?” Someone said in an agitated voice. 

“Yes, and she is a useful ally to us. We need anyone we can get, Alva. It’s not like the Quen were very friendly to me originally either,” Aloy said. The Quen were new to you. You heard the stories of Rebels fighting against a high-tech tribe, but assumed they were just liars. Maybe that tribe was the Quen?

“The Quen are not Regalla’s sister! How can you put your trust in her when she is related and is working under someone who wants to kill you?” You winced. 

“Worked under,” she corrected. “I don’t care who she’s related to if she can help us fight the Zeniths.” Alva sighed. Her footsteps sounded off the metal floor. 

You pressed your full body against the wall and tilted your head backwards. You ran a hand down your face. There was a subconscious need to fight back. You wanted to take your blades out and challenge her to really show her how similar you and Regalla were. There was no point ruminating on what these people thought of you. You were here to help Aloy fight, not make friends. You walked out into the hallway next to Aloy.

“I’m ready.”

Aloy nodded and brought you to a door that led to the basement. Another fiery-headed person came out of the storage room. She was identical to Aloy. 

“This is Beta. She can probably explain better than I can.” Beta shrunk away from you and crossed her arms across her chest uncomfortably. 

Beta pulled a set of files up on her focus and scrolled through them. She nervously opened a file that had multiple people in the same futuristic armour as the man. 

“These are the Far Zeniths.” You took a seat on the stairs. This seemed like it would be a long explanation. Beta explained how the Far Zeniths had gotten to earth and why they were here. It was a shock to think that the people who were here originally wanted to destroy this planet. You wouldn’t question why Beta was involved with them. You knew how it felt to be outcasted by others because of those you had no choice but to be around. 

“How are we supposed to fight them if their armour is indestructible?” You asked. 

Aloy sighed, “we’re working on that. I’m bringing some others out to search for information tonight. Beta relayed a dig site to me earlier. I need you to stay back with Kotallo to show him Rebel sites in the desert.” 

You grimaced. As much as you appreciated not being left with a stranger, the tall Tenakth grated on your nerves. Not only that, but your feelings were still muddled from the last time you spoke. You wanted to add a snarky comment about her actions at Rebel camps, but held your tongue. She let you stay with her. It would be a problem if you got on her bad side.

You heard your breath ricocheting off the walls of the sleeping quarters. It was eerily quiet once Aloy and her group left. Silence itself did not bother you, but what came with it. Silence in what you knew most of your life, war, meant an impending attack. You blew a puff of air out of your mouth and heard it bounce off the walls just to remind yourself you were alive. You could easily do as Aloy said and sell out every Rebel encampment from here to the marshes, but you knew that would leave the Rebels defenseless to Aloy’s fury. Though the Rebels were no longer your people, your moral compass kept you from endangering them. It’s what made you feel distant from the people of the base. These people saw the Rebels as nothing other than Regalla’s pawns, another enemy to take down, another roadblock keeping them from success. The quiet kept you stuck in your own head. 

You adjusted your shoulders in the main foyer. The Strike game placed in front of you showed a clear losing side. You were never very good at Strike, and never attempted to get good at it. Regalla was, but maybe she wasn’t. When you watched her play as a child, it was an idolized version of her. Maybe you’d win against her if you played today. Kotallo came out of a room, which you assumed to be his, holding his spear.

“Where are you going?” You felt the need to ask.

“Sparring. There are Sungwings on the mountain above.” 

You joined him at the door leading outside. He eyed you suspiciously. 

“What are you doing?”

“I’m joining you. It’s too quiet inside.” Kotallo seemed agitated, but opened the door for you. The sound of the wind off the mountain peaks was a relief. You could no longer hear the rasp of your breath and the hum of your thoughts. 

He led you up the mountainside. The snow crunched under your sandals and pricked at the tips of your toes. The burn of the cold made you shiver, but you were glad to feel something other than distrust and fear. He pulled you into snow covered tall grass and placed a finger to his lips. The grass clouded your vision, but you could make out the form of the machine. It was fitting for Kotallo to fight a machine sacred to the Tenakth. 

“Are you able to fight with your injury?” You barely thought of that with what had gone on the past few days. There was still a hole in your skirt that you made a mental note to patch up.

“I’ve fought with worse.”

“We strike on my count, then.” He began counting down from three. You felt your anticipation build. He reached zero, and you sprung out of the grass. 

Kotallo landed a hit to the Sunwing’s plasma fin. It flapped its wings and rose. You threw a blade. It sank into the Sunwings sparker. 

“It is not fun when they fly,” Kotallo murmured. 

“I can fix that,” you responded, pulling your bow from your back. 

You shot arrows into its wings. It tried to stabilize itself, but quickly returned to the ground. The Sunwing swiped its damaged wing at you and clipped the armour covering your shin. It shot a burst of plasma at Kotallo that he expertly dodged before landing a strike to the Sunwings sparker. You took the chance to stab the Sunwings body with your second blade. Before you could remove your blades, the Sunwing swung its wings and sent you flying backwards. You landed with a thump on the frozen ground. Your head pounded at the impact. You felt a pull at your stitches when you tried to stand up. Kotallo glanced at you with a worried expression. 

“Give me a second.” You placed a hand on the stitched wound and staggered up. 

Kotallo stabbed the resource container of the Sunwing. It hunched its body forwards, and you took the chance to shoot an arrow into its head. The Sunwing toppled backwards. You pulled your blades from the Sunwing. You heard commotion from behind you and turned to see Kotallo wrestling with a Scrounger that snuck up on him. The Sunwing just died, and the thing had already come to collect its parts. You stabbed your blade into the Scrounger and pulled it off Kotallo. He quickly got to his feet and ran to another Scrounger near the Sunwing. The ground shook beneath you. You tried to move, but it was too late. A Scrounger popped out of the ground with you on top of it and threw you into the fight Kotallo was having. You rolled just in time to miss the end of Kotallo’s spear piercing the Scrounger. He offered you his hand, and you gratefully took it. You dusted off the snow accumulating on your pants and went for the last Scrounger. 

By the time you cleared out the area, you were covered in sweat. The cold made it feel worse. Breathing heavily, you laid on the ground. Kotallo sat next to you. Sweat dripped in rivulets from his forehead, leaving traces down the clan paint. He panted and tilted his head back, revealing the skin of his neck and Adam’s apple. The snow clung to his bare forearm. He glanced at you, something heavy in his eyes. Adrenaline coursed through your body. You sat up and returned his gaze, both of you panting. You felt warm all over despite the cold. There was a hint of stubble on his jaw. Your fingers itched to brush against it. It felt wrong seeing him in this light. He despised you; he despised your people, and you felt the same. Something in you craved the soft touch he gave you when you were injured. You leaned in to him. He didn’t move. His breath fanned against your lips. He placed his hand on the side of your face. You leaned in closer, closing the gap and pressing your lips against his. His lips were rough like the rest of him. You tasted the faint hint of plant from his clan paint. You wondered if he tasted the same from yours. He pressed harder into the kiss. You pressed back, trying to win. This was a battle, and you were afraid of what would happen if you lost. Your teeth clacked together. You winced and pulled away from him. Immediately, you felt your stomach turn with guilt. You couldn’t do this with him. 

“I’m sorry.”

He looked hurt, but it left his face as quickly as it appeared. “We do not have to talk about it.” He stood up and offered you his hand. You did not take it.

“We should go inside. I’m losing feeling in my fingers,” you laughed nervously. 

“Go, I would like to stay here. Perhaps another Sunwing will come along.” 

The base was quieter than when you left. You secretly wished that Kotallo would come back. If you were supposed to hate him so much, why did he make you feel this way?

When Aloy returned with her group, their conversation held a joyous lilt. Clearly, whatever they did went well. Kotallo placed himself on a soft, plush couch. He was sharpening his spear as Aloy came up to him. You found yourself stood awkwardly in the corner.

“We found it,” she began. Kotallo’s eyebrows perked with interest. “Apparently, there’s some important document in a Rebel outpost nearby. With the information Y/n gave you, I think you can help us find it.” Your blood ran cold at the use of your name. Kotallo stared at you, his expression a mix of confusion and shock. The others stared at you with varying expressions. 

“What information?” Kotallo no longer held any expression towards you. His lips settled into their usual thin line. You couldn’t tell if this was his way of saying he didn’t care or if he regretted ever looking in your direction. 

The Oseram looked displeased. He murmured something under his breath. 

Aloy turned to face you. “Did you not tell him?”

“I didn’t think it would be that important.” It was a lie. A poor one at that. 

Aloy grimaced. “The Rebels are not innocent. They butchered Tenakth. Why defend them? Unless you’re still too interested in pleasing Regalla to make the right decision.” 

You clenched your fists. She was right. You understood that everything you did was to please Regalla, to protect her. Her statement still hit a nerve. The Rebels were not Regalla. 

“We have all done things to survive. What makes you above them? You have killed as well. Far more than any of them!” You stormed out of the base in a fit. It made you feel childish. Frankly, it was childish. It was the behaviour you pulled as a teenager when Regalla made nasty comments towards you. 

You felt the cold against your skin again, this time an uncomfortable reminder of how out of place you were. You climbed the mountain Kotallo brought you to, but stopped before you reached their nest. You felt embarrassed at how childish you reacted. Easily, you could’ve brushed the comment off and pretended that Aloy hadn’t said it. You weren’t sure where your loyalties lay. On one hand, you knew Aloy fought for a good cause. She looked at the greater good, though sometimes she was single-minded in her pursuit of it. On the other hand, you understood the pain Regalla felt. She was doing what she thought had to be done. 

“Can I sit?” You looked up and saw the Utaru.

“Okay.” 

“Zo,” she offered her hand. You took it. Her hand was soft and warm. 

“I would tell you my name, but I’m sure you already know.” 

She laughed lightly. You didn’t think your comment was very funny. “I understand how you feel.”

You laughed as well, but your laugh was cold. “You know how it feels to betray your own people?”

“No, but I understand why you did. It is wasteful to sit around and do nothing while you watch people around you get hurt at the cost of your inaction.”

You glanced at her, shocked to hear her words. “I worry that I’m not doing the right thing. No matter what I do, people will get hurt anyway.” You couldn’t tell why you admitted this to her. She had an accepting air to her that made you feel unjudged. 

“The right does not always mean there aren’t consequences.” Zo thought for a moment. “Maybe there is a way to get the Rebels to come to a truce.”

Regalla was never one to deny her own defeat. “How?”

“We could get them to work together. They may not have the same motivations, but they are fighting similar battles.”

You gave her a confused look. “Again, how?”

“If we could speak to Regalla, we could explain. I know you know she is not heartless. Regalla fights battles she believes to be right.” Zo got to her feet. “Come, I will tell Aloy our plan.” She gave you another glance. “You are not wrong to feel hurt by what she has done to the Rebels and you do not need to forgive her, but it’s important we work together. Our fighting is only propelling the Zeniths to victory.” 

While Zo spoke to Aloy in the base, Aloy threw glances towards you. You couldn’t read the emotions mixed on her face. You lay back on a cot, staring into the hard metal of a second one on top. 

“We can leave tomorrow,” Aloy said. You expected to feel some relief, but only felt a growing pit in your stomach. 

Regalla was at a base you didn’t regularly frequent. It was in the desert, but it laid close to the mountains of the Sky Clan territory. Aloy brought you and Kotallo along, hoping you could talk Regalla into joining. The tension could’ve been cut with a knife on the way over. The air was heavy with the argument you had with Aloy and the kiss with Kotallo. It was like your own personal hell.

You nervously scaled the wall, making fast work of getting into the compound. The sky was overcast with dark, shadowy clouds. You heard Regalla speaking, but couldn’t make out the words. You slunk across the wood on the second level, remaining close to the wall in case you needed a fast way out. The conversation Regalla had lulled into silence and the person she was speaking to stepped out of the hut. The nervousness from earlier settled in your stomach once again. You couldn’t face Regalla’s rejection, but you had to. As Zo said, sometimes the right way has consequences, and you were willing to have Regalla hate you if it meant saving people. You took a deep breath and stepped into the hut. Regalla’s back was turned as she searched through a drawer. 

“Regalla,” you announced. She spun to face you, her brows drawn tightly. 

“I did not expect you to have the courage to show your face anywhere near me,” she spat venomously. 

“We have a common goal.” Every word felt forced, like you were talking with food in your mouth. 

“Yet you betrayed me. If you are running back to me because the Saviour discarded you, I will not take you back.” Regalla went to leave, but you grabbed her shoulder. She yanked herself from you and glowered.

“You will lose this battle by yourself, Regalla. Aloy understands the Zeniths better than you. I understand what I did, but I do not regret it. The right choice comes with consequences, and I am willing to have you hate me if it means saving innocent lives.” A lump was forming in your throat. You weren’t willing to have Regalla hate you. You wanted the comfort of her familiar presence. Regalla stalled, almost considering, and sat back down.

“I do not trust you.” The words stung deeply. “But my army cannot face the Zeniths alone. If Aloy will make a compromise, I will fight with her.”

Regalla stood tall next to Aloy with her arms crossed tightly on her chest. Kotallo had a scowl staining his clan paint.

“I will fight with you if you agree to not bother with the Rebels.”

Aloy tapped her spear against the sand. The dark clouds still loomed over the sky, but they had dissipated slightly, leaving a faint shadow. “Only if you stop fighting the Tenakth. Your army is useless if it’s dead.”

Regalla contemplated. She let her arms fall to her side. “For the time being, I will agree to it.” 

You let out a sigh of relief. You had never been more glad in Regalla’s ability to admit defeat. 

It was strange with Regalla at the base. There was a tinge of familiarity to this otherwise foreign place. Your relationship with Regalla was strained. You doubted it would ever return to normal. She held you at a distance. The times you spoke had been brief, clinical even. It hurt to see the distrust in her eyes when you would pass by her, but you’d accepted your decision. You would rather her be alive and hate you than dead. 

You had gotten closer to the others in the base. Most of them held the same distrust as Regalla, but your conversations with them became less spoiled with fear. You’d become close with Zo. Without judgement, she was kind to you. She’d recently helped you decide regarding Kotallo. When you mentioned the kiss, she had no anger in her eyes. She advised you to speak to him as she did with her boyfriend, Varl. 

Kotallo was in his room, studying a map, when you walked in. The tension still hung heavy between you and Kotallo. 

You observed the room before blurting out, “I liked kissing you.” He stared at you, shocked. This was not how you planned this would go. “Sorry, that was too forward.”

“I like forward,” he said, stepping closer to you. “Besides, I did not mind kissing you, either. You are not only good at fighting.”

You rubbed the back of your neck. “Are things okay between us?”

“I was a little shocked to find out you are related to Regalla.” You waited for the rejection. “It does not matter to me. You are not defined by your family,” he clarified. 

You stared at him, realizing now he had stunning blue eyes. His lips pulled faintly into a smile and formed lines around his eyes. He was pretty, you’d admit, with no guilt behind it. You placed a hand on his cheek. You kissed, this time soft. It was not a battle between you, but an allyship. He put his hand on your waist and pulled you close. You moved with him. Why fight against someone with a common goal?

[vellichorbindery]

First, I want to say that I adore your binds. They are stunning.

I am working on getting into book binding, but I do have some questions/things I’m struggling with that I’m hoping you might be able to help with.

I’ve designed several typesets and covers, I’ve just not yet made it to the finish line. Perfectionism is kinda kicking my butt tbh.

1. What kind of printer do you use? (And do you love it?) I’ve currently got a b&w laser printer, but I want to be able to print typesets in color, but I’m debating between an ecotank inkjet printer or a color laser printer. I’ve never had a color printer before so I don’t really have a frame of reference for what’s better.

2. My other big issue on my typesets has been figuring out the margins. I’ve been formatting my typesets in MS Word. If you use word, do you mind sharing what you set your margins at? And how much you cut off when you trim your textblocks?

I can’t seem to find the best balance between wasting space/paper and having margins that look too small.

Thank you! :)

Hiiii! Thank you for the sweet words 💖🫶🏼

For printers—I have a canon pixma ip8720 that I use for wrap covers, dust jackets, paperback covers and endsheets. I LOVE this printer so much (any of the pixmas are solid color printers) I also use off brand ink bc I can’t be bothered to spend $$ on brand name and it works like a gem.

My other printer is the canon imageclass which I love/hate. It’s a color laser printer so works like my b&w but with color (so I could do foiling on it) the quality is great but I did have issues with it once I put off brand toner and I need to clean the cartridges so I don’t fully love it 100% yet. Still a fan though for the price point. Thats what I used for my Sugar High & ‘tis the damn season typesets. Otherwise I just use my brother b&w for typesetting.

For margins I typically go for .6 on the side margins and usually .5 top and bottom for hardcover. Larger for paperbacks. I try to cut the least amount off on my guillotine but I def have cut off far too much sometimes.

Make sure your layout settings in word are for a letter sized paper and under book fold. Then update the margins and then you can upload it into book binder js to make the pdf into a signatures! (Also I would HIGHLY suggest using Blak Bindery’s macro (find them on insta) it saves me so much time with typesetting in word. (Also ALWAYS hit control A to highlight the entire doc before changing margins/page layout (have learned this the hard way hehe)

Hope this helps!

[nekojetto]

What if s2 ep9 very long review (with spoilers!)

Nothing worst can't happened to the what if serie. I knew it, I was prepared from it. I already think about plot for season 2 and "Supreme can be the final bad guy?" Was already an option in my mind and I like the idea.

Oh and I don't want to read someone telling me "You only the goth boyfriend meow meow fangirl and a anti Carter" I'm not, I 100% know Supreme isn't like I headcanon him, here I'm only taking fact from the show.

I'm going to start with what I find cool into the episode:

I like the fact Captain Carter is the main character of the serie. I like the fact Kahori is a more important and powerfull character than Stephen. I like they changed Stephen monster form. I LIKE the fact Stephen is the bag guy of the season, great idea.

And the biggesst problem is that to every of these point have a "but" and a big one.

I like Captain Carter episode into this season, I started to feel tired during the 1602 episode and seeing her at the final episode ALONE vs Supreme... no Marvel I can't beleive she's stronger than him. She's a super soldier, she's intelligent have a militar formation, but NO she can't use 6 infinites stone like nothing and being more powerfull than Stephen. They are no built up for this (With Killmonger in the first season we have an explanation, he know nano technology, he worked during the whole ep on Ultron armor) Here Peggy use nano bot and the stone like she breath, with a ligth and funny attitude than upset me. She's like this during the whole episode btw. Girl... the multivers is going to die and you're laugthing and Having fun... where is the Carter who understand how in pain Stephen is, and how important the multivers stability is. And everyone at the end gives her their powerfull weapons to figth, good idea btw, but the way it is I can't avoid the Mary sue original fanfic in my head. "She's beautifull, so intelligent, so kind and strong than everyone like her." Carter writing during the whole season is weak like this for me. Compare to the first one, it's a total down grade I'm sorry. And once again I like this character, I have nothing about the idea of having a female warrior as a main character but please PLEASE make her a good writing character in a first place! The interaction between her and Stephen in the first season was well writed, subtile, here we have dial from power ranger episode: "Stephen It's not you!" "I'm not anymore!" Come on!!! I heard that a thousand of time and it's still not working here!

Kahori... Kahori my poor girl... I wanted YOU as a main character of this episode. Imagine someone totally stranger to Stephen's story behing manipulate by him because he looks nice and discovering he's a total unwell crazy demon. Using the 6 stones one by one, because she already knew how to use one. I'm doing what if here... but for now we again got the "side kick color character" syndrome. She has no used into this episode, Carter doing everything alone. I'd love to see here kicking Stephen's butt alone because they are so much more sens than Carter! She fougth Conquistador, she used to infinite stone, she can figth Stephen who is stealing energy from other univers.

And Stephen... I don't even know what to say about him. The whole developpement of his character totally vanish. I HATE when writers makes step back between season to fit their new story and here it's not working. I can totally admit my vision of the character into the first season is not the same as everyone but the best part of the character is that... he could turn to be a bad guy, but he learned his mystake and choose to change. That the most beautifull part of him for me, it's full of hope and positivity. Here turning back to a vilain again isn't a good idea but the fact it's AGAIN because of Christine and acting like everything never happened.. come one. You can totally point the "savior syndrome" he has and only wanted to capture vilain to fixe destroyed univers in general. Pointing the fact it's not his "pain" who turn him evil but his hyperfixation to save ppl. Comparing him to Uatu who choose to doing nothing. Here we never had an interaction between them. I hate the fact they erased his "fragile and unconfident" side into the first season.

I find the final battle as a down grade to the first season. Technically and in storyboard side... they only used old Stepjen technic idea we already saw in the same way and with a "BUT Carter is stronger", in a total lazy way. I still can't believe Carter is stronger than him, She's a super soldier with a shield, he's an overpowerfull sorcerer, ridiculously overpowerfull. I wanted to see FOR ONCE IN MARVEL a figth not around "who's having the bigger one??". We already see how powerfull Stephen is into the first season and the fact they won against Ultron thanks to Carter's Leadership and intelligence. Why you don't use it here?? It's lazy at this point. I wanted a REAL scene where we saw than Peggy has more mental strength than Stephen. Here we have the exact same scene as s1 ep4 but in "Hahaha it's not working on me because... I'm me!" Please can you just leave this episode alone and admit Stephen is over powerfull but less intelligent than Carter? And than Carter doesn't have an unhealthy way to see her dead relationship with Steve. Here the end is still "BAWH!! Carter push Stephen into his own machina Hahahah!! Because... she has a shield and him overpowerfull magic power?"

I feel it into the whole season but the fact we've got 30min epidoe instead of 40min hurted a lot the show. And we totally miss 10min into this final episode to have EMOTIONS. The end of the episode wasn't a good idea, Stephen sacrifice himself to bring back his world but without him, it's perfect on paper but here... THEY ARE ZERO EMOTION??? The butterfly

could go on Christine's shoulder, we could have a sadder sountrack, something more subtile like Stephen still into reflexion of object around here, watching her but can't interact with this world. I don't know but something more than a dial to thanks Captain Carter like she saved the multivers ALONE. HELLO??? And Kahori?? Is she okay??? Where she is?? Maybe I miss something at the end... But the Carter attitude of not even being sad for his Friend Stephen... I hate it once again. And Uatu... UATU??? Stephen saved your life??? He's your friend too??? And... it's totally your fault if he turns evil again, you bring Nat into a new univers at the end of season 2 and you let Stephen alone?? And never interacted with him like you did with Carter??? Wtf Uatu at this point you're only a Carter fanboy ?? You deserve better too!!!!

They are a thousand of plot hole that I'm tired to see... the "magic armor", the bad guy who keep all the vilain/hero alive into the same place "I don't see what bad can happened?", the vilain suddenly becoming stupid and less powerfull for no reason. Like... you have the time stone from the beguining??? As I said before the "sidekick color character", the non respect of fan like... poor Killmonger's fan here. The no used fanservice. Like, it's cool to see cowboy Loki and ThorHulk... but they are no use here. The characters who suddenly all became Clowny Ironman style. Like Stephen made jokes and have a funny side into the first season but it's around Party Thor who has the power to bring fun around him, or when he's less confident to hide his insecurity here he's just... funny all the time for no reason. Same for Carter here. The five years old dial like Peggy having fun of Stephen's cape and him having fun of her British flag... guys what are you?? Children??

I'm so sad to only have Carter at the end and no mention to the guardian of the multivers here?? Like... imagine the drama of the whole team against their old friend! And the perfect way to show her more powerfull power is her leadership, not throwing shield to ppl head.

Yeah as a conclusion I totally can accept one or two mistake like this... but here it's only making out of the show, feeling nothing for the character. The total opposite of the first season. I totally understand WHY it's that bad. I feel they've got less money, less time, less freedom. Than disney were behind they're backs like "we need to sell Carter action model, nothing else." But it's easy to say it's only Disney fault. I personnally put the fault on the writers and director's shoulders. Pushing a Captain Carter without thinking "why" she is a good character. That's the biggest mystake of the second season.

[saltyinternetflower]

I've reached the final frontier in a fandom- writing fanfic for my OTP 🤭🤭. Expect more such insanity from me because I'm a certified baka 😂😂

Rainy Nights and Pineapple Cakes

Fandom: Death Note

Ship: Lowlight (L/Light Yagami)

Format: Drabble, fluff, eventual smut 😉

–———————————————————————

Plop! Plop! Plop! Plop!

Four cubes of sugar drop into the tea, and then the soft clinking of the spoon, stirring.

Light sighs. If Kira doesn't find L, diabetes surely will.

"Light kun..."

L is staring at him over the brim of the tea-cup, owlish, cowlicked hair, raccoon eyes.

"You're staring." He points out.

"Tsk! You're the one who's staring, Ryuzaki." Light glares. "You little freak!" He adds inwardly.

"Would you like a cup of tea? It's raining outside and the weather is rather snoozy." L pours another cup without waiting for his answer.

"Here!" He offers. There is an upward tug at his lips that one could see only if they squint.

Light huffs and pushes his revolving chair close to L. They don't use the regular office chairs anymore because of the handcuff "situation." It took them several unceremonious tumbles to realize rolling chairs offer better movement when two people are tied together.

But he miscalculates the speed and drives rather hard into L's chair. The cup drops from L's hand, splashing hot tea all over his chest and lap!

"Ouch!"

"Gosh!"

(Art: Manga panel)

Light jumps out of the chair, reaching for L's shirt. It's just a nondescript grey shirt, nothing expensive, but Light has little time to worry about that!

"Are you hurt?" He tries to yank the shirt off L's skin.

"Light kun! You are so clumsy!" L grumbles, squirming under Light's firm grip.

"Stop fidgeting, baka. Let me take the shirt off and put some ice pack on you." L growls.

L sits like a wet puppy, hugging himself, a scowl on his face. He puts a sugar cube in his mouth and chews on it like a candy.

Light tugs impatiently at the chain of the handcuff. "Hey, move it. I'm getting the ice pack and you're coming with me."

Light winces when he gets a good look at the raw, red patch of skin on L's chest. He gently places a bag of frozen pea over it, ignoring how his chest clenches when L hisses in pain!

L's slender frame makes him look somehow younger and vulnerable, in a way that makes Light's heart ache. He smells a little ripe, like pineapple cake, tea, and something that's just... L.

"You smell like a skunk's butt, Ryuzaki. When was the last time you took a bath?" Light scrunches his nose, secretly enjoying the angry glower on L's face.

"Baths are optional if it's a rainy day." L hmphs.

How on earth is this little goblin the world's greatest detective?! Light smiles to himself.

Then a wicked idea strikes him!

"How about you get a bath right now?" He winks.

"Wha..." Before L can respond, Light makes a ninja move and suddenly picks L up, cradling him to his chest.

"Oi!" L gasps. Light is already darting towards the door. A gust of cold wind and shards of rain make his skin prickle the moment he pushes the door open with his shoulder.

"Light kun! What are you doing?" L shrieks, kicking his feet in the air.

Light lets out a hearty laugh, squeezing L tighter to his chest. L is gripping his shoulder tightly, his eyes fluttering shut against the onslaught of stormy wind and rain.

Light whirls round and round, his wild laughter echoing over the roaring rain and L's muffled cries of protest.

-------------------------------------------------

I wanna write a sloppy, wet, rain-soaked kiss next. Should I go for it? 😉 Lemme know.

❤ and 🤗🤗

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

All Along the Watchtower (Chapter 14)

[Can also be read on AO3]

Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!OC (3rd person POV)

Word count: 3.5 K

Warnings: Minors DNI - canon typical violence, swearing, smoking, military inaccuracies

Summary: The intrepid duo head to the Syrian base controlled by Zorokov's PMC, and a full-scale invasion occurs

A/N: Rory Sinclair is a dual citizen (both Canada and the UK) who's been living in the UK since she was 14. She is 28 at the time of this fic, Price is 32. This series is set in 2017 before the events of the first MW game. Rory's thoughts are bold and italicized, other italics are used for emphasis

*I have struggled with this chapter for a while now, it's not perfect but it had to get done so I could make the ship finally sail for these two. (Only 4 chapters left after this) Throwing this chapter at the wall and running*

November 2, 2017 14:52 - Al-Hasakah, Syria

Helicopter shadows stretched across the arid sand, massed together, flying in formation. Rory could practically hear the Ride of the Valkyries playing in her head as the forces of the US Marines and SAS all rained down upon the outskirts of one city near the border of Turkey and right in the path of Iran’s slowly growing power in the region. However, this was in no way a move to stop the encroaching involvement of a foreign government, this was a controlled, confined operation against the hired goons owned by Zorokov and ISIS forces, with one clear directive – wipe them off the map completely . 

As the approach began, the nose of each helo pointed down towards the compound in the distance, the doors opened on each side and ropes dropped, soldiers rappelling into the coming battle and armed to the teeth. At the door of one such helicopter, the wind whipping through her hair, rocking side to side with the turbulence, Rory looked down through her aviators at the mass of golden sand and the gray smattering of rocks that passed below. Her cigarette clenched between her teeth, smoke coiling up past her cheek, holding the mesh beside the door for stability as she stood by Price – his boonie hat looking as though it wanted to fly off his head any moment – and listened intently as he gave his orders. 

“We’ll be at the X in three. Gonna fight our way through to the designated area f’ the nest. Expect heavy resistance. Ground troops will take care of clearin’ us a path and keepin’ enemies distracted. Stay on me, yeah?”

Nodding at his orders, she mused, “Feels just like the good old days.”

“Gettin’ sentimental about the job already, Sinclair?”

“I’ll be the first to admit, sometimes a good fight’s in order.” She tossed her nearly spent cigarette butt out of the helicopter and watched as it fell to the ground below, fading out of view that farther it got. “This is my bread and butter. Nothing quite like it to get the adrenaline pumping,” she stated, checking the rope tied into her harness by tugging on it. 

His gloved hand came to her shoulder, resting there. “Lookin’ forward to seein’ you in action again, Lamb .”

A half grin curled at her lips with the use of her call sign. “I was wondering when that was going to come out.”

Meeting her with a smirk, he tipped his head towards the open exit of the helicopter. “Go on, sweetheart. I’ll meet you on the ground.”

Giving him a little salute, she jumped out of the helicopter door, rappelling down the rope into the flurry of gunfire that had kicked off down below. The wind whipping through her hair, she forgot just how terrifying yet freeing this all felt, having to rely on training and her team to get out alive. A shiver crawled down her spine as the adrenaline started to spill throughout her body. Sniper rifle strapped to her back, assault rifle in her hands, she found cover below and waited for Price before making her next move. 

In the distance, heavy tanks began to roll out from the compound, treads cutting through sand as mortar shells went off, and even from this far away, vibrations still traveled up her legs and made her pulse quicken. She was in the thick of it. There was no turning back. 

The radio crackled with chatter from other units, heavy fire and casualties were already being called in as artillery fire continued and black smoke started to rise into the sky – their forces were powerful, but not unstoppable.  

As Price descended, Rory picked off the insurgents that started to move in. Even with an assault rifle she had the same precision as with her sniper scope, and with just a few quick shots, bodies dropped and rolled down the sandy dunes. Boots hitting the ground running, Price was quick to reach her side behind cover. All hints of the humor he had had with her before were gone. This was the hardened Captain at her side, ruthless and determined, the man who had no fear about getting his hands dirty to get the job done. “Let’s push up, stick close,” his voice a husky whisper as if he were saving it for the real heat when he would start barking orders. 

Following in his wake, Rory kept hunched behind the burnt-out ruins of armored vehicles. Picking off those who popped out of hiding like the targets on the training ground, she never wasted a shot, every one had to count. 

The sound of incoming tanks grew steadily, the loud metal clink and then boom of artillery being loaded and fired increasing. Missiles sailed towards their targets from the helicopters above. Pockets of sand blown sky high. This was never going to be any walk in the park, but it did remind her just how close she walked with death at any given time while out in the field and on the front lines. In the grand scheme she had gotten away with little damage in her time as a soldier, a few bullet wounds, some scars from shrapnel, but nothing life threatening nor career altering – at a moment’s notice that could all change however. 

A muffled yell caught Price’s attention and he stopped, his eyes narrowing until realization hit and he was shoving Rory backwards to the ground with him.

“ RPG! Incoming! ”

Hitting the ground, the force of the blast wave shook through her chest, the plate metal weight crushing down onto her ribs. Ears ringing, head spinning, nausea spilled over as her inner ear was left trying to find its point of balance. Sand in her eyes began to sting as they watered and she tried to blink the debris out. With a groan she rolled onto her side and watched as the Captain was the first to get back up to his feet, dusting himself off. 

His piercing stare focused on Rory still laying on the ground. “You broken?” He asked, head tilted, concern painted on his features. 

She couldn’t quite make out the words, his voice muffled in her ears like she was swimming underwater, the same odd droning it had been during that ride back to the safehouse after her fight for survival with Zorokov. Her head fuzzy like it was stuffed with cotton, Rory looked at him stupefied.

“Sergeant, you broken?” Speaking in a rough bark as he moved closer, Price held out his hand for her to take. 

His brusque tone clearing the daze from her head, she gave her head a shake and dragged her hand down her face, wiping the sand off that clung to her. Fighting to get her bearings once more, her vision still somewhat blurred, she looked up at him trying not to appear quite so foggy. “No.”

His grip on her hand was powerful, a forceful pull to drag her back up to her feet. An appraising glare swept over her as he chose to decide for himself whether she was actually telling the truth. “Good.” 

She nodded and grabbed her weapon from the ground, her first few steps were a stumble until her center of gravity was restored, but her boots marched on.  

Fighting their way through the abandoned town that led to the outpost, Price led her towards a branch away from the middle of the ongoing battle around them. A shelled-out husk of a mosque would provide ample coverage of the warzone, a bird’s eye view of the entirety of their surroundings, and that was to be her sniper’s nest. 

“Take overwatch up top there,” Price said pointing to the roof of the building. 

“Affirm. “I’ve got your six out there, just keep your head on a swivel, eh?”

“You bet your arse I will. Give ‘em hell, Lamb.”

Splitting off, she raced down the emptied street, and entered through the blown out doors of the mosque. Climbing up through the rubble to reach the sun that came through the weapon-made skylight above her, beams of golden light caused the dust and dirt around her to glow as it drifted through the air. Careful with each placement of her hands and feet, she made her way to the top, given no time to appreciate the view before she was setting up her rifle and laying on her belly amidst the debris from a previous attack upon this part of the city, overlooking the entire warzone that led up to the outpost. 

Rory watched through her scope, keeping her eye on the action and the many enemies that still scattered the area. There was no shortage of targets for her to set her sights on, but rather than just pick off every one she could see, her focus remained on the Captain and keeping him protected as he moved forward, taking out the threats that remained unseen from his vantage point, but not from hers. She had promised to watch his back, she wouldn’t fail in that duty, she wanted to shield him all the same. 

As he moved through the hordes they had come to fight, she realized upon closer inspection that there was something about the way Price moved – it was entirely predatory. Danger lurked in those steely eyes, unknowable, impenetrable, and buried below all the control he aimed to enforce upon himself (and everyone else for that matter). Slipping for just a moment in the heat of battle, something feral growled up to the surface as he tore through the enemy like they barely existed at all. A fury that lay dormant until such a time as violence was required, when a threat deserved his attention. Quick and dirty, sharp and biting. Whether with his guns or the knife he carried, if he set out to end a life he surely would. Her chest tightened just at the thought, like if her heart beat any harder it might explode inside her – a ticking time bomb. 

Rubbing at her eyes, she jammed her thumb and forefinger into her tear ducts until phosphenes danced across her vision, pretending as though she were fighting the glare of the sun shining into them – but that didn’t explain the coiling knot in her abdomen or the shortness of breath she suddenly felt. Definitely a leftover daze from the bomb… Now was not the time or the place – she knew better than that. 

Lighting a cigarette to settle herself, she let it dangle from her lips as she scanned the derelict cityscape, recognizing a squad of enemy soldiers headed in Price’s direction. Eleven targets . Lining up her aim, accounting for wind speed and direction, as if just the feel of it over her skin gave her all the answers – an instinctive art – Rory took out each one in rapid succession with one shot through the head. Efficiency is what she had come to be known for in her time as a sniper. Bullets tore through the air, the concussive force of them crumpling bodies like ragdolls as the back of their skulls were ripped open, spraying those next in line for death in blood and brain matter. Easy picking .

The radio crackled, and Price’s voice was deep and rich over the broadcast, congratulating her. “ Good shit. ”

There was an undeniable pride in his voice. A man all too willing to shower her in praise. If she had her scope trained on him she was sure she would see the blush on his cheeks, overcome by a fluster from her skills and acumen in this situation. 

“Couldn’t have done better yourself?” she teased.

“ There’s no goddamn way I'm admitting to that. Keep it up, Sinclair .”

She chuckled quietly and kept scanning the environment for enemies as Price moved ever closer with the rest of the forces, clearing out enemy troops on their way towards attacking the outpost. From her place in the nest, she could see it all: buildings slowly cleared by squads, the streets emptied of tanks and armored vehicles as bombs rained down from the air support above, fires spreading, the heat building, the way the sun glinted off the scraps of metal and rebar that dangled off the destroyed buildings… and off the scope aimed out a top window near the Captain’s location. Quick to warn him, she called out the threat’s position over the radio. “Captain, you have a sniper above you. 10 o’clock.”

Cover fire sprayed from his weapon and from the soldiers that had collected on his position, a squad of marines having been slowly picked off earlier by the threat she had located, they hid behind the leftover remains of a wall already riddled with bullet holes.

Noting the enemy sniper’s nest, she aimed down the scope, adjusting slightly to the right, and took out the sniper and the spotter that shared a window with one bullet, as precise as a Swiss timepiece. 

“ Fucking hell, Sergeant .” He gave a low whistle. “ I can see why the CIA loved having you about. Weren’t lying when it comes to being a damn good shot, were you? ”

Laughing, she picked up her cigarette from the sand and took a drag. “I certainly wouldn’t lie about something like that, Captain.”

“ Just how many confirmed kills have you got? ”

“I’ll tell you when this is over.”

After hours pushing forward at a slow crawl and with the exterior cleared, the sun had nearly begun to set and the orange hues of the sky met with the bloodstained sand at the horizon. The outpost, their objective, was all that remained in their efforts for diverting further conflict between nations in the Middle East. 

A quick brief later, the invasion began. Rules of engagement: weapons free . 

Ally tanks rolled out, armored vehicles with turret guns following in close proximity and the wave of soldiers that still stood - drained, but not beaten - bringing up the rear. 

One foot in front of the other they marched steadily. Night vision ordered to be used. 

Rory’s hand twitched and with a quick flex of her fingers, she swallowed back that feeling of deja vu. Groundhog day. Repeating the mistakes of the past, or rather, making up for them. Back in Syria, sweeping an outpost – at least this time she already knew there were ties to something less than savory. She could expect the very worst and then be surprised not to find it, if she were lucky. 

Flicking down the night vision goggles, she once more delved into that world of black and white. Shades of gray, just like everything else in her career. She moved forward, following on the heels of Price as he started the charge. Gunshots sounding off, endless rounds of muzzle flare. The milieu of constant war that she had panged for at her desk in relative safety at Stirling Lines surrounded her, the jealousy that had bubbled up inside her for having been left on the sidelines now converted into hunger, a drive to see the mission complete and successful pushing her forward past the fear and doubt that holed up inside her head. 

Spreading throughout the outpost, multiple small squads took it floor by floor, clearing it like a pack of wolves, swarming their prey and tearing it down to nothing at all. Put on the defensive, the enemy started to become more desperate and short sighted, fighting reflexively rather than methodically. It made them weak to interception moves and flanking, it also made them extremely dangerous the more rash they became. Explosions on other floors brought with them flashbacks to Afghanistan and Iraq, and the reminder of IEDs permeating Rory’s thoughts. That fear of entering a known weapon production site and wondering whether one would meet their demise via bomb vest detonation was a near persistent threat on a person’s mind. She held her weapon a little tighter to her and carried on moving forward, following Price who firmly held point. While the others took care of the threat, they were headed to the command center, the heart and brain of the enemy operation. 

A large, metal bunker door was shut tight before them, a security panel on its side, the most high tech and hard to break protection this outpost had shown to have thus far. 

“Have we got thermal imaging on how many are in there? Last thing we want is to walk into a bloody firing line,” Rory whispered as she took her spot to the side as Price set up the C4 to breach the door. 

“Walls are too thick, can’t get anything accurate.”

“So we’re going in blind.”

“Welcome to the special forces, Sergeant.”

She stretched out her shoulders, twisting her neck from side to side. Stress climbing up her nerves and tensing her muscles. Combat readiness caused her nerves to jump and twitch, moving reflexively, body on high alert. 

“We blow the charges to breach, then toss flashbangs, keep ‘em stunned. Then take ‘em out.”

“Two on however many. I’ll take those odds.”

Moving to a safe distance, the charges were detonated and the metal of the bulkhead door was shorn open, leaving jagged, smoking edges. With a quick toss of the first grenade, leaving the enemy in shock and disadvantaged, unaware of how much resistance they were actually up against. Rory and Price took point at opposite sides of the door, ducking in to pick off the enemy soldiers inside. 

As the smoke eventually cleared and bullet fire stopped being returned, the two soldiers waited to make sure the room was entirely clear, doing a sweep of the room from the safety of their cover before entering inside. 

Bodies of hired guns, PMC soldiers, lay in a haphazard mess around the room. Blood dripping from the holes bored through their kevlar, riddled with bullets. Slowly but surely, scanning the bodies, their fingers at the ready on their triggers, Price and Rory made sure there were no survivors left, ready to spring up and attack them. 

On the table in the middle of the room, a laptop sat, one of the enemy corpses hunched over the keyboard, blood sprayed across the screen. Pushing the body out of the seat, letting it fall to the floor heavily, Rory wiped her arm over the screen, clearing it of the red bodily fluid and bits of viscera that had landed upon it. 

Taking a seat at the chair, she managed to gain access to the laptops files, reaching the main PMC server and a database of contracts. “What are we looking for specifically?”

“Anythin’ that will leave Zorokov out in the cold, leave him without allies.”

“So Russian contracts,” she stated quickly.

“Get mother Russia involved and they’ll be happy to let us deal with ‘im.”

“Good old-fashioned blackmail.”

“Thank goodness we’ve got Kate to help get us that information quick.” Pressing on his radio, Price got in contact with Laswell. “Kate, just hit a goldmine for ya.”

Connecting to their server, Laswell began searching through the PMC’s database of contracts. Finding each and every op they had been hired for and by who, a list of shell companies attached. 

“ You weren’t kidding, John. ” 

There was a silence as Laswell got to work digging, finding the right knife to sever the ties that kept Zorokov safe. 

“ I’m guessing you haven’t dug too deep into these contracts yet, have you? ”

“Why?” Price’s tone became severe as he stared at the screen still smeared with drops of blood. 

“ One of the more recent contracts. It’s Russian .”

“Where?” he growled, all ready to take on another fight.

“ Urzikstan . Support against Al Qatala and the Liberation Force .”

Steely eyes narrowed at the info drop. “Barkov?”

“ How’d you know? ”

An almost distant look appeared in Price’s stare, memories coming forward of a time years ago when he was a Lieutenant. A war that never ended, had started long before he got there and – if the Russians had their way – would likely continue on. 

“Seems as though you have history with him,” Rory said softly.

“You could say that,” he rasped.

“Urzikstan? Isn’t that where you’d been serving that first time we –”

“Yeah.” His jaw clenched. “Surprised you remember that.”

“Got a good memory for things.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, his glare darkened. “Country’s been war torn for twenty years.”

He stated it matter-of-factly, so jaded by years of war, of fighting, of being a soldier. It didn’t even seem to faze him anymore speaking in numbers like that. It was just the cold, hard facts. Blunt and brutal. There was no point in sugarcoating it when the people of those countries couldn’t turn a blind eye to it, they lived it every day. 

“Jesus Christ,” she said, rubbing at her brow. “Well no wonder Russia’s been looking out for Zorokov. It’s not just the money, he’s helping the bloody war effort. Destabilization in the region.”

“ I’ll make sure this gets to the right people .”

“Thanks, Kate.”

This was it, the noose they had been looking for to tighten around Zorokov. The tourniquet to chop off the gangrenous arm. The rotten job of ending one oligarch’s reign was nearly complete. They could come home. 

[reverend-dog]

Beneath the Sand

A low, wavering moan resonated through Maya’s helmet, almost too low to be heard. She knelt on the rocky soil, the nozzle of her hand vacuum just above a pocket of sand sheltered by the surrounding rock. A hazy day, the sky overhead nearly matched the color of the ground, while the pinhead-sized sun struggled to deliver light.

“Sound drives me crazy,” Lamont’s voice crackled through her speakers. “Reminds me of a really old film, Ghosts of Mars. How do you stand it?”

“Just wind,” Maya supplied without interruption. “You get used to it.”

“What if it kicks up into a sandstorm?” Lamont worried.

Maya snorted. “Did you sleep through orientation? The only danger from sandstorms is solar panels getting dirty. The atmosphere’s too thin to generate any real wind. Just relax and enjoy the moment. Or would you rather be back at base, at another of Meissner’s ‘voluntary’ team-building exercises? I heard it’s mime karaoke night.”

Lamont groaned in disgust. “Point taken,” he conceded.

The vacuum sucked up the sand with enough force to overcome its natural static-adhesive properties. The excavated depression revealed a tubular shape of startling symmetry, and no hint of a bottom yet.

“So what are we looking for out here?” Lamont inquired.

“Not sure,” Maya replied. “But drone radar found exactly four thousand holes all around this butte. All the same diameter, all evenly spaced.”

“’And though the holes were rather small,’” Lamont sang. “So, what? Are you saying they’re man-made?” Lamont’s tone betrayed his skepticism. “Oh, sorry. Martian-made?”

Maya shrugged, forgetting that her suit muffled the motion. “Natural forces have been known to produce symmetrical formations,” she conceded. “But there’s really only one way to find out.”

“Well,” Lamont concluded, “I’ll grant it does beat mime karaoke.” He realized that Maya had pulled the vacuum up, and knelt motionless by the hole. “Maya?”

A raised hand to beckon Lamont forward was Maya’s only reply. He clambered from the rover, covered the distance to her in one bound, and bent to look down into the hole. “Holy shit,” he breathed.

Both of them stared down. Smooth, white, dome-shaped, with two round sockets close together on one side, a triangular gap between and just below them. Sand buried it further down, but no doubt existed in either of their minds as to the thing they saw.

Lamont tried, though. “Impossible!” he cried. “No fucking way!” He straightened and spun away, but in his panic forgot about Martian gravity.

Lamont’s scream overloaded Maya’s helmet speakers. She rose more cautiously and looked up, to see Lamont in the middle of a somersault twist. A reflexive calculation told her he would most likely land face-first, and the ground here sported enough jagged rocks to crack even an impact-resistant faceplate.

“Lamont!” Maya called, and leaped. She caught him around the midsection and wrapped her arms around, and kicked with both legs to pull them down. “Oh shit!” she cried as she glanced down, to see another of the mysterious holes too close beneath them for a course correction. Her boots sank into the sand, she felt something brittle crunch underfoot, but she kept going. “Lamont!” she cried. “Spread out! Try to grab the edges!”

A panicked howl crackled in Maya’s speakers, and the sand rose over her faceplate as she sank further, blinding her. Lamont’s landing jolted through her, and her grip around his waist slipped free. “My faceplate!” Lamont screamed, and the most terrifying sound for a spacesuit to make, decompression, drowned out whatever else he had to say.

Vision suddenly returned, but the sight offered little comfort. Open space yawned beneath Maya, and even in Mars’ weak gravity, she knew a fall could be dangerous, even lethal. Light bloomed below, green, blue, purple, too faint to paint any details at this height.

Ground appeared below, with just enough warning for Maya to brace for impact. She rolled as she hit, careful to protect her faceplate, and wheezed as the breath exploded from her lungs. She came to a stop on her back, gasping, unable to inhale, eyes wide as she stared upward.

She could not see the dome of the grotto, but tiny, brilliant specks covered it to give the illusion of a night sky. The sight further confounded her, and her mind offered its best approximation of a rational explanation, that she had fallen completely through the planet and come out the far side.

Motion from all sides caught her attention, and Maya’s eyes slid to follow it. Dark, bulbous eyes stared at her, pair after pair bulging from round heads. No other features presented themselves, but tentacles sprouted beneath each head, coiled or writhing, and one set wrapped around a multicolored ball.

Maya was trained in how to recover lost breath, but panic overrode everything else at the moment. She gasped a few more times, then slumped as darkness overtook her.

Maya awoke with a cry, and sprang to a sitting position before she realized she could breathe. She looked around, and recognized the infirmary. A transparent plastic tent draped over the next bed, and she saw Lamont under it, a breathing mask over his nose and mouth.

“You’re awake!” A voice full of relief cried from the infirmary entrance. Maya’s eyes snapped that direction, to see Dr. Marian Lazarus. The base doctor hustled forward and wrapped both hands around the rail of Maya’s bed. “What happened out there? No,” Marian interrupted herself, “save it. Rest now. I’ll let Director Meissner know. Don’t worry,” she counseled, “I’ll keep him and everybody else out until you’re ready for visitors.” She turned and jogged toward the door.

“Marian!” Maya called. “How did we get here?” she asked when the doctor turned.

“Lamont’s suit alarm went off when his faceplate cracked,” Marian explained. “Rescue found you both just past the base perimeter. I guess you carried him that far before you collapsed. Did the rover fail?”

Maya opened her mouth, paused, then shut it and nodded. “I couldn’t get it start,” she offered. “Maybe I was too panicked by Lamont.”

“Well,” Marian accepted, “you’ll be glad to know he’ll be okay.” She nodded at Lamont. “He’s just sedated while we flush his system with pure air. Now, you rest too!” She waggled a finger at Maya before vanishing through the door.

Maya lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. “I know where you are,” she murmured. “And it’s not going to stop here. Just too many questions.”