#rorys frequency

[rockosaur]

FUCK YEAHH

[intersellar-sys]

Me: I just want to fill this little corner of the internet with incoherent nonsense

Nine people for some reason:

[amtrak12]

This 44 story subscribers/388 hits/ 65 kudos ratio single-handedly wrote me 2400 words on my story today. Plus editing the other 40k and pulling together a 2900 word outline for the current chapter.

Feedback and validation is awesome :D

[sayoneee]

☆ PARENT TRAP

in which, a plan is devised to set the two of you up (1.9k)

contains: luke castellan x fem! reader. mortal au. baby percabeth (they are 12). percys pov. loser older brother luke castellan 🔛🔝

kashaf’s note: i think we can tell i love my music references by now. (answering requests soon!)

i. remember the time - michael jackson

PERCY HAS ALWAYS liked afternoons: sitting on the green couch in his apartment, the smell of his favorite blue cookies wafting through the air, and the constantly running episodes of gilmore girls on the tv — that you had convinced him to give a try — and sometimes the addition of grover, who was prone to start passionate tirades on climate change.

though after summer camp, his relatively quiet afternoons now included at least two mentions of “seaweed brain” and two of “wise girl”. 

percy’s trying to stay focused on rory freaking out over thanking dean for something (annabeth is almost laser-focused), but the doorbell rang a while ago, and you still haven’t returned. 

“annabeth,” he whispered, to no avail — he guessed dean really had that effect on people. he tried again, waving a hand in front of her face. she blinked twice before being lifted from the spell of gilmore girls. 

“what?” annabeth asked.

“who’s at the door?” 

annabeth’s eyebrows rose. she turned around, looking past where you were still holding the door open, one hand animatedly gesticulating, the other still on the doorknob. 

“that’s my brother,” annabeth said, turning back to look at percy. 

but percy isn’t paying attention to her right now, instead, he’s focusing on the bits of conversation audible between you and this stranger, who’s smiling very peculiarly down at you.

“— no way, me too,” the stranger is saying, grinning.

you’re saying, “deadass? prove it —” 

“— are you always so skeptical —” 

percy gets up off the couch, annabeth beside him, striding over to you and the stranger, who, for a reason he can’t quite put a finger on, seems weird. 

“hi,” percy says, looking at you, pointedly ignoring the stranger. you and the stranger seem to freeze, your hand halting mid-tuck of your hair behind your ear, something percy has only seen you do around one of your ex-boyfriends. 

“hi,” annabeth says, looking at the stranger, who smiles in response. again, weird.

“ready to go?” the stranger asks, “or are you going to take over their spare bedroom?”

“luke, you’re not funny,” annabeth grumbles, but she doesn’t look that put out by luke’s teasing percy notes. 

you’re smiling, but you’re not looking at annabeth. you’re looking at luke, your one hand still on the doorknob. interesting. 

“you’ve got your yankees cap?” you confirm as annabeth laces up her converse, as you and luke are engaged in a tiny conversation of your own. percy wordlessly hands the worn-out cap to annabeth once she’s finished, saying his goodbye.

once annabeth and her brother are long gone and you’re no longer leaning against the door, you’re still smiling widely, and percy wonders why.

ii. shoop - salt n pepa  

gilmore girls is on again, and luke is here to pick up annabeth. again. but for whatever reason, annabeth still hasn’t left, and you and luke are sitting in the kitchen, alone, conversing loudly. 

annabeth isn’t as hyper-focused on dean and rory’s argument as percy had thought she would be a week ago — he assumed that dean’s appeal died the minute he got mad in that banged-up car. annabeth is saying something about architecture, eyes shining, though he’s not sure which one she’s talking about, hagia sophia or st. basil’s cathedral. your loud laugh seems to ring from the kitchen every minute or so, and well since you’ve begun babysitting him, he can’t say the sound is unfamiliar, but the frequency is suspicious. he doesn’t trust luke. 

“annabeth,” he says, when she’s stopped talking.

“percy,” she responds in the same tone, her smile bright.

“how long has your brother been in the kitchen for?” he says, trying to sound nonchalant, but missing the mark horrifically.

annabeth looks at the watch on her wrist, “woah —”

“what does woah mean?” percy knows he’s being impolite, and his mom taught him to never interrupt people, but he can’t help it at this moment. 

“i was just getting to that, seaweed brain,” annabeth rolled her eyes good-naturedly, “we were supposed to leave an hour and half ago.”

this was bizarre. “no offense, but what does my babysitter and your brother even have in common to be talking nonstop for an hour and half?”

“no idea,” annabeth says, thoughtfully. “is she in a band? luke’s in a band.”

“no,” percy says, but he thinks he remembers your last boyfriend being in a band. “is your brother a senior?”

“yeah — does she do boxing? luke does.”

“i actually don’t know,” percy pauses, “i think we should see for ourselves,” he stands up. 

“wait,” annabeth says, “they might go quiet if they see we’re around. let’s just turn off the tv and eavesdrop.”

percy grins, annabeth was such a genius, “you got it, wise girl.” 

they’re both so silent, he wonders if you’ll notice, but with the way you’re laughing again, borderline giggling, actually — which is odd — as you say, “shut up, you know what i meant,” he doesn’t think you’ll realize. 

“erm, actually i don’t,” luke says, nasally (in what percy hopes is mockery). 

percy looks at annabeth, who rolls her eyes at him and mouths, ‘he’s being ironic’. percy stares at the patterns in the carpet, and annabeth stares at the picture of percy and his mom hung on the wall, as they continue to strain their ears — which isn’t hard because of how noisy you and luke are together.

“you’re so insufferable.”

“and you’re the one who invited me in, so.”

“i was being nice,” you sound like you’re protesting, but percy and annabeth note the amusement in your voice with another shared glance.

“you? nice? let’s be forreal.”

“i’m literally not even mean.”

“you literally are.”

annabeth peeks at him, and percy thinks he’s had enough of listening to this conversation, which is quickly becoming weird. and mushy. he can practically see how you’re looking at luke, and how he’s looking at you, which is not at all something he wants to imagine.

he nods at annabeth, and they both try to make their footsteps as loud as possible when they start approaching the kitchen, just in case. 

he’s grateful to every higher being out there when he and annabeth find you and luke in the kitchen simply sitting next to each other, no funny business involved. 

iii. doo wop (that thing) - ms. lauryn hill

you’re on the phone, giggling. annabeth is over again, and there’s no luke in sight, but percy suspects he’s on the other end of the line. 

percy sighs and turns to annabeth, who always seems to know what to do because this little situation has gotten unbelievably out of hand. 

“is that your brother on the phone?”

annabeth’s concentration on the teetering jenga tower on the coffee table lingers, doo wop (that thing) playing on the tv in the background, “yeah, i think so.”

“how do you know?” percy asks, watching annabeth carefully choose a jenga block to remove.

“they like each other,” annabeth says, looking at him, as if it’s as obvious as grass being green.

“no, they don’t,” percy pauses for a minute when annabeth raises her eyebrows at him. “how do you know?” 

“luke’s always calling her at home,” annabeth said, “and he made her a mixtape.”

“that doesn’t mean they like each other, that just means he likes her,” percy points out, crossing his arms. 

they hear you giggle in the kitchen again. annabeth looks at him as if that proves her point.

annabeth blinks, her face lighting up, “oh my god, percy, we should set them up.” 

percy stares at her. he can’t deny that for as long as he’s known annabeth, she’s seldom been wrong, but he doesn’t think this is the best idea. but, percy trusts annabeth, so he agrees.

iv. this is how we do it - montell jordan

percy’s spying on you. well, he doesn’t consider it to be spying exactly, he’s just making sure nothing happens to you because despite annabeth’s constant defense of her brother, percy still doesn’t trust luke. percy’s always thought of you more than just his babysitter, after all the attempts at making blue hot chocolate and the comforting after nightmares, you’ve turned into his sister. 

he’s at annabeth’s place now, and both of them decided to put their — what annabeth swears is fool-proof — plan into action. step number one: getting luke to invite you inside when you come to pick him up (which was so unbelievably easy, considering how luke has perpetual heart eyes when you’re around).

currently, you’re in the kitchen with luke (the two of you are always congregating in kitchens for some reason), and annabeth decided that she and percy absolutely had to keep an eye on the two of you.

you’re gasping, “luke castellan, you are such a liar.”

luke is laughing, “no i’m not.” his cheeks are red.

you’ve seemed to notice this, and percy can see your gaze soften as you look at luke, but that doesn’t stop you from making your point, “no, oh my god, you call me the mean one but here you are, talking shit about your rivals, just because they’re better?”

percy has seen you argue with your ex-boyfriends, but not like this — not bright-eyed, and smiling, and none of them have been able to just flow the way you seem to with luke. this is it, he thinks, annabeth was completely and utterly right (as she is 90% of the time). 

“you take that back right now, those motley crue knockoffs aren’t better than us,” luke says, sounding kind of angry, but percy can see his smile.

“you’re totally bugging,” you say, “what’s wrong with motley crue?”

luke looks scandalized, and almost as if he’s pleading, he says, “please tell me you’ve at least listened to guns n roses,” pushing his hands together in a namaste position.

“i don’t live under a rock, castellan,” you rolled your eyes at him, pushing his hands down. annabeth shares a look with percy.

“i mean, you never know,” he says, and you scoff, shoving him.

percy raises his eyebrows at annabeth, and she seems to know exactly what he’s thinking — time to put step two into action: set up a going-out idea.

percy and annabeth pretend to walk closer to the kitchen, to give the two of you time to spring apart, because you and luke weren’t a very pg distance right now — maybe pg-thirteen, but percy wasn’t supposed to be watching those, so.

annabeth jerks a finger at percy, as you and luke looked up at their arrival, addressing luke, “percy doesn’t believe that your band actually plays in public.”

percy’s head whips toward annabeth, trying not to glare at her, because the look on luke’s face right now was not at all amusing, but at least you were smiling, so you’d definitely stop luke from killing him.

“yeah, luke,” you say, smirking, “where do you guys even play?”

luke frowns, “the usual but we’re playing at the fair next week if you’re so interested.” the last part is aimed at percy, but their plan is going well so far, so percy doesn’t think he’ll have to sleep with one eye open tonight.

“when?” you ask, interested.

percy watches luke turn to you, surprised. “saturday — why, you wanna come?”

“yeah,” you admit easily.

percy looks at annabeth, who’s smiling and percy can’t help but feel proud of their idea.

“really? we don’t go on until like seven though.”

“yeah, someone has to be there to cheer for you so you don’t feel too bad when no one else does,” you grin.

luke turns to you, masking his smile with a fake air of irritation, “gee, thanks.”

“what are friends for?”

percy shares a disappointed glance with annabeth who begins to shake her head, as luke’s smile freezes in place, and you suddenly look extremely remorseful.

time to come up with a new plan. 

© sayoneee on tumblr. do not repost, plagiarize, translate or claim any of my works as your own.

[redshoes-blues]

Found a crazy possible Byler and Gilmore Girls parallel again—and it ties to lettergate!

In season three episode one of Gilmore Girls, Rory is shown having a stack of letters from Dean (her current boyfriend who she’s in a rocky relationship with), which are opened, but it’s implied that she hasn’t written back. Then, the camera pans to her pushing aside her letters from Dean, picking up a pen, and instead writing a “Dear Jess” letter to Jess, who is the guy she actually has feelings for (feelings she’s repressing at this point in the story because she feels guilty for liking Jess while dating Dean).

Of course, season four of Stranger Things shows that El has been sending Mike letters frequently, but he hasn’t been replying to them the way she wants, or with the frequency she expects. When he replies yo her, he writes “from Mike” instead of “love Mike.”

I’ll also note that in Gilmore Girls, Jess and Rory are the couple who are frowned upon by the town, and Dean is constantly insecure about whether or not Rory actually loves him.

In this parallel, Mike is Rory, torn between two love interests—one who he is in a rocky, unhealthy relationship with (El/Dean), and who he feels obligated to keep dating despite his feelings for his other love interest (Will/Jess), who he feels guilty for liking. Which, of course, begs the question: does Mike have “Dear Will” letters that he hasn’t sent?

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Chapter 7

Summary: Alex and Farah arrive on base after the gas attack, the hunt for Hadir begins

Warnings/tags: Minors DNI - swearing, character with trauma, British slang, military inaccuracies, established relationship

*some dialog from the game used in this chapter*

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

Word count: 4.6 K

[AO3]

October 29, 2019 - American military base, Urzikstan

Rory hovered over Laswell’s shoulder as radio chatter came in, tracking both the Russians and the ULF comms. Raised voices, panic, indistinct cries of fear. It reminded her of Piccadilly. Gas. Gas. Gas. Repeated again and again in Arabic and Russian alike. Both sides blamed the other, not knowing which set it off – it didn’t matter when both sides were counting casualties. 

The creeping miasma slid over the sand and derelict buildings, a toxin that clouded the air and infested the lungs of those unlucky enough to have come without the protection of a mask. Anything alive in its wake left to suffocate and be consumed by the deadly plume, its tendrils an impossible knot to escape.  

Price and Garrick entered the comms tent in a rush moments later. The Captain’s piercing 

stare bounced between the two women from under his furrowed brow, his gruff tone commanding an answer from them, “What’s going on?” 

The whine of radio signals being cut and going offline continued in the background along with the last dying gasps and groans of those caught in the crossfire of the spreading chemical weapon as Rory replied, “Comm channels are going mad with chatter.” Seemingly non reactive, she kept her voice calm, even with the news. “There’s been a gas attack at the crossroads.” Tension crackled like static electricity in the air as Price’s steely gaze widened, the tendons in his jaw flexing under the scruff of his beard. “Alex? Farah?” he asked, expecting to have more answers.

“No word, John,” Laswell said, mouth drawn into a straight line as she gave a quick shake of her head, strands of blonde hair drifting over her brow.

Growling to himself, not willing to believe allies had fallen so easily, he pointed at the map on the wall behind them. “There’s a bunker near there, yeah? They’ve likely gone to ground.” It took only a brief moment for a plan to formulate in his mind, years of training giving him the ability to act fast. “Get me a helo, Kate - MedEvac. Garrick, we’re on exfil. Rory, I want you stayin’ on those comms. You catch anything, you notify me immediately.”

With his orders given, she responded with a quick nod and settled in at the desk. There was no time for ‘be safe’ or ‘come back to me’. This was work, part of the mission, romance went out the window in a situation like this. Lives were at stake, focus was critical. Though the firm pat to her shoulder by his gloved hand certainly filled the empty space between them, he lingered for a second more to squeeze the tension from her muscle, his thumb brushing against her.

Forty five minutes passed before any transmission came through, and the silence was deafening. Stress levels were already high knowing that the gas attack could set off further chaos in the region, it was worse waiting to find out the status of the ULF’s leader – alive or dead, it could turn the tide for everything in what seemed to be a nation constantly at war. Rory tapped her lighter against the edge of the table in a steady rhythm, headset on, tuned to Price’s frequency waiting for word. Depending on the outcome, different plans would have to be put in place. The distant rumble of war horses' hooves were on the horizon and glancing over at Kate, she could see the CIA station chief’s cogs spinning. 

Finally, Price’s rasping voice – muffled by the sounds of the helicopter he had returned to – cut across the radio waves. “Found Farah and Alex. On our way back. Gas attack wasn’t the Russians – it was Hadir.”

Farah’s own brother? Christ, Rory thought. So much for blood being thicker than water. Things must have been desperate if he was willing to turn against her, to use a weapon that had ravaged their nation previously. An eye for an eye made the whole world blind, though she certainly respected where Hadir was coming from, that inexhaustible need for revenge after facing one too many atrocities at the enemy’s hand. “How are they, John?” Laswell asked, skipping over the details for now until she could be briefed on the situation in person.

“A little worse for wear, but they’re both breathing.”

“Good. I’ll get medical prepped for the two of them. Sinclair and I will start scraping through the intel, find out where Hadir and the gas have gone.”

It wouldn’t be as simple as Laswell made it out to be, it was no menial task to scour over maps and telemetry, tracking radio chatter to hopefully discover where an American asset and a deadly, concentrated toxin could have disappeared to. Moving from one chair to another, Rory was now left to bury her head in satellite and drone footage focused on the outer reaches of Urzikstan’s borders, the foothills and mountains where AQ was known to stash weapons and its fighters when the heat was on from the Russians. A section of land she was all too familiar with, having assisted in plotting out where most of their resistance forces were holed up during the last two years of her career.

Another thirty minutes would pass before the helicopter would arrive back on base, giving her the opportunity to get a jump on things. Time was of the essence, and if there was one thing Rory was good at, it was working under the pressure of a deadline. It had always streamlined and focused her thinking, kicking her into action. 

Several cups of coffee, dozens of aerial stills, and back and forth between intelligence officers later, the low beating of rotating helicopter blades filled the army base like thunder in the sky. Rory pulled back the flap of the tent and watched the aircraft land, recognizing the boonie hat instantly as Price exited, helping Farah down to the ground, keeping her stable on her feet. Coming up shortly behind was Garrick with Keller, who seemed to be in much the same dazed state as Farah – both of them still feeling the after effects after their brush with the sarin gas, stumbling forward as the medics came to collect them. 

This wasn’t exactly the way she had hoped to get to meet them, with pressure forcing down upon all their heads and the both of them having had a near-death experience out in the field. None of this had been routine, though – as Rory was all too aware – this was just another day at the office. Price’s words echoed in her head from their first mission together, welcome to the special forces. Nothing ever went according to plan, oftentimes having to make things up as they went along, working on the fly. Two years, and she had become accustomed to it. Kate glanced sideways out the part in the tent, her head lifting from her laptop. “Need to debrief with the Captain. You’ll be alright on your own?”

Rory nodded, sipping her coffee while returning to her task of scanning through hours old surveillance footage. “Please, Kate, this is a walk in the park. A regular Tuesday afternoon for me. Go on.”

Waiting until Laswell left the tent, Rory slipped out her phone and got in touch with an old ally. Friends in high places – and even better in low – were a good thing to have in the back pocket when necessary. “Hello, darling,” Andrew Owen’s charming accent chimed in her ear. A man who was formerly her Lieutenant, now an MI6 operative, had his ear to the ground and his fingers in more pies than she wanted to know about. 

“Andy,” Rory drummed her fingers on the table beside the keyboard. “Calling in a favour.”

“Aren’t you always?”

Rolling her eyes, she huffed out a laugh. “You still have contacts in Urzikstan, yeah?”

“Why?”

She leaned back in her chair, watching through the break in the tent, the canvas flapping in the wind. “That's strictly need to know right now, and Lord knows I don't have the clearance to just hand out that sort of information.”

“Well I need something to work with Rory.”

With a heavy sigh, she lowered her voice to a whisper, “Hadir Karim.” 

“Karim…” Andrew went quiet for a moment, trying to place the name. “The ULF Lieutenant?”

“The very same.”

“What could you possibly want with AQ informants when it comes to ULF members?”

“Best you’re kept unaware for now.”

“Rory?” The frustration, the concern, was all evident in his tone. This was the man who had seen the horrors she had, the only other person who really understood the things that haunted her on black missions she could never truly speak of. 

“Andy –” She was short with him, not having time for the debate. 

“You’re over there right now, aren’t you?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that.”

“For fuck’s sake, Sinclair. Stop pulling the military intelligence bollocks on me. You’re supposed to be looking after your father not off fighting a bloody war, what the hell is happening?”

Her eyes flickered back over to the gap in the tent, and her jaw clenched. “You heard about the US embassy?”

“The attack by AQ? yeah.”

“I arrived shortly after that. Things keep going from bad to worse,” Rory paused. “The stolen Russian gas… it wasn’t them.”

“Bloody hell,” Andrew groaned. “That’s all I can say for now, but that’s why I need those contacts, Andy. We’re working against the clock right now. It’s only a matter of time until AQ really does have their hands on it.”

“Right, I’m on it.”

“Thank you.”

Standing outside the door to the medical wing, Price lingered, his broad shoulders blockading the doorway as he observed the staff attend to Farah and Alex. Preliminary tests already completed, medics looked at the patients, checking for any secondary effects of the gas they had been exposed to. He stood there brow furrowed, lips pursed in a scowl, his mustache curling around his mouth as he concentrated. Rory’s footsteps were near silent as she sauntered up to him, an attempt at catching him off guard, knowing it likely wouldn’t work. Even in moments of calm, veteran soldiers like the two of them couldn’t shut off the awareness, constantly attuned to each little sound and movement. Reading a room, sensing the fluctuations in the air with almost preternatural skill. “Make a better door than a window, you know.” Her smile was anything but professional as she looked up at him, a shoulder pressed to the wall by the door, taking his attention off the goings on in the room. His steely gaze drifted towards her from under a creased and heavy brow. “What're you doin’ ‘ere, Sinclair?”

Glancing in through the door below the bulk of his arm muscle, she brought her attention back to address him. “Spent so much time looking at aerial surveillance footage I started going cross-eyed.” She scratched at the side of her nose and shrugged. “Kate ordered me to take a break.”

“Jesus, you don't quit, do you?”

“You don't either,” she retorted, the grin creeping further along her lips. 

Price's carefully constructed scowl of indifference visibly faltered under the assault of her smile – cheeky as always, little dimples carved under the apples – it was leagues apart from his own gruff, taciturn nature and for a split second, she caught his eyes softening before he quickly recovered, the impassive mask taking its rightful place once more, lips tight. “So what brought you down ‘ere then? Garrick tell you where I was?”

“No,” she shook her head defiantly, “Don’t need to ask the Sergeant where you’ll be, I know you well enough that I don’t have to ask around.” Her eyes flickered over him for a moment, as if she were skimming over a page from the book she had learned to read him as. “You have a bit of the ol’ mother hen about you, medical was the first place I thought to check for you after your meeting with Kate. I knew you’d be concerned with the state of these two,” she said, tipping her head in the direction of the medical room.

“Mother hen, eh?” Price’s brow lifted as he glanced back at her once more. “It’s quite charming in its own way, really.” Her impish smirk slid across her lips. “Endearing, even. Shows you care. Especially for a gruff bastard like you,” she teased, the sarcastic bite to her words more than evident. He chuffed out a quick hint of a laugh. “Had a fair bit of practice in it havin’ to look after you these last few years, my girl.”

An involuntary flinch rocked her. He wasn’t wrong. This man had seen her at her very worst, woken up in the night by her choked with fear, wracked by the images that flooded her of that bunker in Syria. Even the taste of revenge she’d been given had done little to wipe the lasting effects of that mission from her mind. The memories of the screaming and the crying forever etched indelibly into the folds of her brain. Leaving him to have to remind her it wasn’t happening anymore, just a memory. Wrapped up in his arms, wiping the tears and the sweat from her shivering form and then staying up with her the rest of the night.

Humming, she crossed her arms to mirror his stance – a social cue, and certainly not one of a defensive nature. “Suppose that may be true. Glad I got to be the guinea pig for testing your bedside manner on then,” she mocked, self-deprecatingly. 

There was a moment of silence between them, that comfortable spot where little had to be said, merely indulging in the company – something that had become rather commonplace when they were trapped on a base together, having to keep schtum about their personal relationship. 

“How are they,” she asked, changing the subject. Her voice low, slipping back into that of the loyal soldier and not the partner. “Given masks in time, luckily. Suffered a lot less than they could have.” She nodded and chewed on her lower lip. “So they’ll be wanting to hunt down Hadir then?” “Wouldn’t you?”

Contemplating the question momentarily, she transferred her weight between her feet. “Can’t imagine what must be going through Farah’s head right now.” Shaking her head, her brows knit together with concern. “Betrayed by her own brother like that. Using the gas… what was he thinking?”

“Revenge mostly.”

“Thinking with the heart not the head.”

He tilted his head to the side as if he were debating something with himself. “Can’t entirely blame him though. Did what he thought was needed.”

With a lift of her brow, she gave him a sideways glance. “Willing to do whatever it takes.”

Mouth shifting, his lips pursed slightly as if the words he were about to speak tasted bitter on his tongue. “Understandable in its own way.” Rory grimaced, knowing she had thought the very same thing earlier. Price really was rubbing off on her more than she had thought. “Getting his own people caught in the crossfire though…” Price grunted in response, that low growl from deep in his throat. 

Acceptable losses. The military term blared in the forefront of her mind like a siren. She knew he wouldn’t say it, but he was absolutely thinking it, just as she was. But where did that number begin and end in a war like this, and especially when chemical weapons were part of the equation? “Almost got a trace on Hadir. Got in touch with Andy, gave us a good headstart on where he likely ended up.” The tendons in Price’s jaw flexed below the scruff of his beard, tightening as he grit his teeth together. This wasn’t going to be an easy battle, and noticing his gaze flicker towards the ULF Commander, Rory already knew he was worried about where that would leave Farah at a critical time. 

“He made his choice, one he’ll have to live with the responsibility of making for however long or short that may be.” She paused, glancing over her shoulder for a moment. “Talk in the Russian camp isn’t good,” Rory muttered quietly. “We’ll handle it.”

Peering into the room one last time, she glanced back down the hall. “Best get back to work anyhow. Told Kate I’d only be gone long enough to have a fag.” “Don’t work so hard, Sergeant.” “I’m sure you’ll find a way to remedy it later if I do,” she murmured, gazing up at him through her lashes, her hand resting on his arm as the corner of her lips curled into a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smirk.

In a quiet hangar, furnished with tables with scattered computers and monitors, several chairs were set up. Bodies milled about with Farah and Alex recently relieved from medical, given the ‘all clear’. Rory hung back near the monitors, giving one last look over the intel prepped for Laswell’s briefing. She had spent enough hours putting this together, she’d be damned if it was sub par. Meanwhile, it gave her the perfect vantage point to see and hear all – observing before acting. “Never known you to hide away amongst a group,” Laswell mused as she noticed Rory fussing with the tech. “Not much of a wallflower usually.”

She chuckled quietly, shaking her head as the blue light of the monitor glowed on her face. “I came into this late, and it's not exactly like this is a meet and greet, is it?” Glancing over at the Station Chief, Rory nodded her head in the direction of Farah. “We’re about to hunt down Commander Karim’s own flesh and blood. Hardly the time for me to be pulling out the cocktail dress and small talk, eh?” 

“Maybe. At least let me introduce you.” Shooting Kate a sideways glance, making her annoyance known, she huffed. “I can hardly deny you, can I?”

“You could. We both know I can be very persuasive though.” The imperceptible smirk made itself known at the corners of Laswell’s mouth. 

Stepping away from the computer, Rory followed Kate. Having spent the last several hours hunched over at a desk she was hardly putting her best foot forward, but then again, everyone seemed to be on an even playing field – worn down and wary. By this point, she had read more than enough ongoing reports from what had been happening since the attack on Piccadilly that Rory had already begun the process of building an image of all the parties involved whether she had spoken to them yet or not. That part of her training, learning to profile and understand her enemies when they were in her grasp, was often turned on those considered allies and friends as well. An intrinsic part of her now, to understand, to break people down to their bits and pieces. Needless to say, Farah and Alex were not spared this same treatment.

Alex – loyal, courageous, an All-American golden boy. Mr. Do No Wrong (despite being CIA). Clean cut, take-him-home-to-meet-your-mother type. He seemed to still have his heart in his work, a rarity in their world. Hadn’t fallen prey to apathy yet. Believed he could do some good, but didn’t intentions like that so often pave the way to hell. Willing, able, one of the few honorable ones left. The tattoos surprised her, however. Farah – strong, defiant, a force to be reckoned with. A talent for drawing people under her banner, a highly capable leader. Decisive, tactical in her approach, good head on her shoulders despite the emotional turmoil around her and in her past. Wise beyond her years, compassionate to her people’s plight. Burdened herself with the responsibility of leading a war when it shouldn’t have been on her shoulders alone.

She had to respect them both for all that they had been through at this point. 

“I don’t believe you’ve been formally introduced yet,” Kate said as she brought her over to the CIA operative and the ULF Commander. “Sgt. Rory Sinclair, meet Alex Keller and –”

“Commander Karim,” Rory interrupted, smiling brightly at the other woman. “A pleasure to meet you, read all about you on the way over.” “You’re with Price?” Farah asked, narrowing her eyes slightly, not realizing the dual implication that sentence held. 

Slipping her hands into the pockets of her tac pants, Rory bounced on her heels – a rare showing of the tic she’d picked up from the man in question. “He called me in to help.” 

An honest deflection.

“You must be skilled at what you do then.”

“He seems to think so,” Rory jested with a nervous bubble of laughter, shrugging her shoulders. 

“Rory here is quite the asset,” Laswell added, giving her a quick squeeze of the upper arm.

“Steady on, Kate. Build me up too much and I’m sure to fall flat on my arse. Either way, here’s hoping we get this whole thing resolved without too much muss or fuss, eh?” 

She held out her hand to shake with the both of them, ensuring she used a firm grip. Alex being the first to meet it with a “good to meet ya” added on top. 

“Well, with that, I should probably let you get on with your briefing, yeah?” Rory said, looking over at Kate. Moving back to the computer, Rory was ready to do her part with the briefing and having the necessary intel on standby. It was easier being in the shadows, off to the side. This war had quickly become something that wasn’t just her own, shifting and changing like the desert sands, evolving into something personal for everyone involved, all of them with their own messes to clean. 

Witness to the stoic resolve of Farah, having come to grips with what her brother had done, Rory watched as she took her place in the seats. It was impressive to see this woman hold together so well under such levels of stress. But her eyes were taken off the Commander for just a moment as Garrick drew near, carrying over a paper cup of tea and passing it to Farah, his hand pressing to her shoulder. Gentle. Brow lifting, Rory felt a sudden pang of regret for her initial first impressions of the Sergeant. She’d been too hasty, too quick to pawn him off as being just another cop. A bias she’d quickly have to get over working side by side with him now. There was something more to him. A deep, resounding kindness within him – and now she felt even worse for what she knew Price was aiming for when it came to his new protege. Her attention was brought back to the matter at hand, however, as John’s fingertips grazed over her lower back; a quick touch, the briefest flicker of his attention before the briefing began. The same grip that was commonplace when off duty and they were out in the real world together, a hold that informed her – and the rest of the world – that she was his. 

Laswell stood in front of the seats set up in front of the projection screen. “Hadir went North… He was picked up by AQ fighters in the foothills.”

“Voluntarily or by force?” Price asked with a bob of his heels, thrusting his hips as he gripped the straps of his tac vest. “We don’t know…” Alex looked over at the Commander, sincere in his sympathy, “I’m sorry, Farah.”

“Your brother –” Kate continued.

“Is a terrorist.” 

Farah’s resolute decision in describing her brother as such was almost startling for Rory. Cutting flesh and blood down to something so black and white out of all the shades of gray in the situation putting her on edge. Flinching at the directness of it – just a twitch of the nerves in her shoulders, a flutter of her stomach muscles – something too close to home in the guilt it managed to dredge up within her. 

“Is an American asset, who is either with or in terrorist hands.” Alex stood up like a shot, quick to end any semantics. “Hadir’s fight isn’t with us.” Yet more layers were being splashed over the situation they had found themselves in. Nothing was cut and dry. They were in the murky waters at the deep end of the pool and no one could see the bottom. “Now he could have killed everyone when he stole the gas, but he chose not to.” “How do you know this?” Farah asked, surprise in her tone at the new information presented. 

Glancing away for a moment, Alex gave a short sigh. “I was there… trying to stop it.”

Most participants in the room seemed unfazed by that from what Rory could tell. Not a flinch showing on Price or Laswell’s faces – or even her own for that matter. Alex was CIA after all, why wouldn’t he have been at least a partial observer of what happened with the stolen gas? The only one visibly annoyed about being left out of the loop was Farah.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We believed it was Al-Qatala,” Keller said with a grimace. “We didn’t know it was him.”

Looking between Alex and Farah, Kate took command of the situation once more. “We know now. We’re going after him. Tonight.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“You’ll be hunting your own brother,” Garrick said, his brow furrowed. 

“He is not my brother,” Farah replied, glancing over her shoulder back at the young Sergeant. “Not anymore.”

Her ears and eyes open, Rory continued as the quiet onlooker, the fly on the wall. Her teeth clenched at the naivete of the one person who had never been to the desert, who’d never seen war. She stayed quiet, her guts churning. Awash with regret, so ready to be in the thick of the action, walking away from her father when he needed her – could he be so quick to disown her all the same? He had made it more than clear he was no fan of the fight she had slotted herself into. “This is a bad idea, Farah.”

Alex’s voice was a murmured drone in Rory’s ear as she pushed back the anxious thoughts in her head. Family was everything, her father was the last real bit of it she had left and she had walked away while he was in a hospital bed, blind with rage, with the taste of revenge on her tongue. 

Thinking with her heart, not her head. 

“We take care of our own here.”

“Not usually what that means,” Garrick interjected. “It does ‘ere,” Price said as he walked over, pointing at Farah. “I want Farah on the team.” He rested his hands on his vest once more, lifting his chin, ever the dominant presence in the room. “And I’m not asking.”

Rory had given herself up willingly, letting herself be used as a weapon in Price’s arsenal. One he could wield like the others who had been swallowed up by this mission. In too deep to ever get back out. This was the life she had chosen, the one that seemed to fit her best.

“Fine,” Laswell confirmed, “You have execute authority. All of you. Okay, let’s brief up.”

The group took their seats as Laswell presented the intel on the screen, giving Rory the nod to begin. “Imagery confirms Hadir was in possession of the remaining stolen gas when he made direct contact with Al-Qatala’s most brutal enforcer, the Butcher. Surveillance tracked their vehicles to a residential complex in the Arqus Mountains, believed to be the Wolf’s stronghold. Alex and Farah will hold orbit for secondary clearance, while Bravo Six leads the assault force to locate the chemical agents, retrieve Hadir, and kill the Wolf.”

She would be killing one wolf to make room for another.

[bluegekk0]

26, 24, and 23 for holly + fpk

i'll go in order

23. Favorite picture of this character?

hmm, are we talking in game picture or a drawing i made? if it's the first one then there's not much to choose from, especially for pk (hell, since this is about fpk specifically, then that doesn't really exist haha)

so i'll pick something from my art folder i guess. i hope it doesn't reach self-absorbed territory, i'm always a little afraid of that

for holly, i think i'll have to go with the modern au pic (and also the reference sheet drawing since i reused the pose)

i'm very happy with it cause i think it really fits them. relaxed but slightly hunched over, as if the head is too heavy to hold it up. for the modern version specifically i'm just really happy with the outfit, once again i think it suits them and i like the colors i picked

for fpk, it's gotta be one of these two, i can't decide which one i like more but they're very similar in concept

something about seeing him on tree branches scratches my brain in just the right way. i still like the way i drew his tail in the first one, and the second one is just the right kind of aesthetic for me. i often see similar photos to this, with the moon behind a silhouette of a wild looking animal, and i want to draw something inspired by it. but then i have to remind myself that i already did haha

24. What other character from another fandom of yours that reminds you of them?

i'll start with fpk cause it's the easiest one for me. both the doctor and rory from doctor who give me fpk vibes very often. rory especially with his awkward tired personality, it's the main reason why i picked him for fpk's voice, it just fits. the doctor, specifically 10 and 11, are a bit more complicated. the autism coded traits they have are very fpk, though a lot of the more emotional moments related to losing others, living for so long and loneliness are a lot more grimm core to me. so i guess rory would be the more obvious one here

holly... yeah i don't know, really. they're a very unique type of character, and i can't think of a single one that reminds me of them 😭 i'm sorry

26. FREEBIE QUESTION!!

oh uhh. i guess that means i can talk about anything i want? hm

i've been thinking about the little speckles of void in fpk's blood and how that could relate to holly. i guess it all depends on whether it would leave his system after some time, or remain there. i'm gonna go ahead and say that it stays there, but the amount of it is so tiny it doesn't really impact him in everyday life. maybe it could amplify his negative feelings? though since there's very little of it in his body, maybe it wouldn't be enough. but i do like the idea of it making him more responsive to holly's void, in particular the noise it makes. he'd already be able to hear it better than others since his hearing is very sensitive, but maybe the void in his organism would make it even more obvious? like, maybe there are certain frequencies only he can hear because of it? i'm not sure how that would work, or if it's even going to be a thing i nthe au, but i figured i could share my thoughts anyway

[rockosaur]

Midwest emo fans when a singers voice cracks

[toomuchracket]

Flatmate!matty anytime girly is sick. and this is before they get together btw because he doesn’t want to sound *too concerned* but then he’s also freaking out on the inside

god... let's say you come down with a particularly bad case of hayfever. not contagious, so matty won't get sick, but enough to floor you. it's summer, and the two of you have had windows open constantly (because weed), and at first you start out just sneezing every so often (which matty finds adorable), but then they start to increase in frequency and matty gets quite concerned. he's like "you ok, darlin'?" while you're sneezing constantly trying to fold the washing that you had hanging on the line outside, and when you're like "think it's hayfever" he literally pulls the washing basket from you and finishes folding it himself because "these have been outside, they'll be all pollen-y! go and have a rest, sweetheart". and you wash your face and go and have a lie down. the next couple of days, though, you get progressively worse with the sneezing, you're extremely drowsy, and your eyes start to get really sore. matty tries to keep his distance because he doesn't want to a) overwhelm you when you're ill and b) give off too many boyfriendy vibes (too fucking late for that one though babe!), but he's so worried about you - he's never seen you so lethargic, and your eyes look so painful. and i think he paces back and forth outside your door for like 5 minutes straight, before coming in and saying "darlin', i know you won't want to leave the house while you're so poorly, but i really really think we need to get you to at least a pharmacist, if not a doctor. i'm really worried about you". and even in your drowsy unwell state your heart flutters at how tender matty's being, and you know he's right so you just say "alright" and let him drag you to the car and then into the pharmacy.

and matty literally doesn't let go of your arm the whole time; you're like "matty babe i'm drowsy not narcoleptic or woozy lol you can let go if you like", and matty's like "i'm not risking any fainting, i'll hold on to you thanks", and both of you are very !!!!! internally about the prolonged contact. he does most of the talking to the pharmacist as well, actually, like "i'm not trying to silence women or anything, she'll just downplay how bad she feels because she always does, and she's really suffering with this hayfever" and like butting into the pharmacist speaking all "sorry to interrupt - would that be non-drowsy? she's scarily lethargic, we don't want that getting any worse" and "i read that if you get local honey it can build up some pollen immunity, is that true? are we worth getting some?" lol. anyway, you get a strong antihistamine, and in the car on the way home you're like "how'd you know that about the honey?" and matty honest to god does the jess mariano gilmore girls "do you yahoo?" bit - the two of you have been watching it together - and you laugh for the first time in a few days and do the rory "you looked it up!" line (a.n. i just made myself sick with that. god. when will it be my turn). and then when you get back to the flat you're like "matty, will you help me wash my hair, if i just kneel over the bath? need to get the pollen out but i'm too sleepy to do it myself", and matty's heart just BURSTS at how cute and domestic and genuinely painfully repressive this is going to be for him. but he does it, and you both love it, and then the two of you curl up on his bed to watch another gilmore girls ep and you fall asleep on matty. he just lets you sleep, foregoing the episode in favour of watching you, just aching with how much he loves you and how desperate he is to tell you <3

[iamthecomet]

Do you ever get thoughts like “I need Cumulus to fuck me stupid on her strap and then have Sunny fill me up over and over again“?

Because I do and now I have the urge to write Rory getting absolutely RUINED

YUP. UHUH. I HAVE THESE THOUGHTS WITH SURPRISING FREQUENCY. I think Cumulus ruining me with her strap would actually fix me. You should do it. Rora getting DP'd by Sunny and Cumulus? Add Cirrus in and they can run a train on her? Or Cirrus shove Rora's face into her cunt and hold her there while Lus or Sunny (fuck it, Lus AND Sunny) just wreck her.

We all know our little Aurora is a size queen. She wants be stuffed full. It's only fair for us to indulge her.

[revived--c]

Personally headcanon Aurora/Rory to be an earth and air multi ghoulette.

Which means when you enter her room-- there's plants EVERYWHERE!

In the windowsill, hanging up on her ceiling, terrarium on her nightstand.. the whole shabang.

Also headcanon that earth types can actually hear/understand their plant babies. They can hear this frequency that they call music-- which is something plants actually make!!

She can tell when they're feeling low by their music-- which makes it even easier for her to help one if it's not doing so well.

The air element in her also helps-- like it it's recently been really dry out or stagnant for the plants. She'll help energize them with her air element.

[sleeping-in-the-sky]

A Garden in the Heart and Lungs (Infinite Blue)

I’m procrastinating on one fic by writing another fic lmao 

Anyway I came across this incredible thread that reworked the Hanahaki disease trope, which served as my inspiration. For this little mess of scenarios I’ve reinterpreted the disease to be a symptom of intense emotional turmoil, which doesn’t always involve unrequited love or imminent death. But it still means angst ahahahahahahah not again im sorry

Hanahaki Disease AU, featuring all IB boys. Some imply x Reader, some may not. No mentions of reader’s gender, reader pronouns are set as they/them.

CW: Blood and vomiting. 

-----

Alexei: 

Every inch of his mind, trained from birth to explore and collect all forms of scientific knowledge, tells him that this flower-coughing disease makes no sense and shouldn’t exist. He thinks back to when you first made the desperate plea, to create a cheaper cure that didn’t involve surgery. Despite accepting he continued to tell himself that it was impossible for flowers to grow from the inside.

But yet, they say seeing is believing, and when he doubles over in a coughing fit he can’t deny the existence of the blood-red petals that leave his lips. 

Revulsion and unease shift restlessly within as he hazily stares at his desk covered with failed remedies, stained with remnants of blood and tears. At least now he had an endless supply of test samples. He needed to do whatever it takes, to save both you and himself. 

Brooklyn:

He’s long since understood that this chronic illness of his was peculiar, with the way he’s always coughed out various flowers with meanings that somehow reflected whatever emotional distress he was experiencing at the time. How ironic it was that this was where his penchant for floriography came from. 

Even now, as he gifts you a bouquet of yellow roses (“my gratitude for your friendship and companionship,” he says,) he could feel the familiar tickle in his throat that he hides behind a gentle smile. As soon as you step away he coughs into a handkerchief and inspects the petals. 

Black dahlias and maroon roses. 

“Dishonesty and unrequited love,” he whispers the meanings, feeling the familiar pang in his chest.

Leo:

“The Hanahaki disease,” Leo repeats, the words sounding as foreign to him as the bitter taste of flower petals. The doctor sitting in front of him nods. “Severity and frequency of its symptoms will vary from patient to patient, but looks like yours is pretty serious. Could be terminal, but it’s unclear-“ 

The rest of the doctor’s words fall onto deaf ears as Leo’s mind begins to race, and by the time he steps out of the examination room he’s in a daze. Only when you run up to him with a worried look does he finally snap out of it. 

“Don’t worry, it’s just a common sickness,” Leo reassured you with a smile. “I’ll be all better in a matter of days!” He doesn’t want to burden you with the truth, even if it meant letting these vines wrap around his lungs and throat, slowly suffocating him from the inside.

Milo:

"Relax, it's just a cough", Milo says, and your sounds of protest are quickly cut off when he walks away, seemingly unfazed. And to him, it was the truth; his illness was chronic, yet light, and seeing a petal-lined trash can had long become part of his everyday routine. Sure, he could try and figure out where all this emotional turmoil comes from, but it would take far too long. 

Or so he justifies. 

"But I've heard symptoms get worse over time," you argue.  "Are you saying yours hasn't changed?" 

"Yes, now stop worrying." That was a lie. He stifles a cough and feign ignorance at how your eyes narrow in suspicion. Yet he refuses to remove his mask of indifference, for ignoring his grievances had become second nature. 

Because no matter how bitter the flavor of petals and blood was, when one has it enough times it starts to taste sweet.

Rory:

The pain is sharp and searing, and it feels like his throat and lungs are set aflame. Mumbling out a half-hearted excuse about how he's feeling lightheaded Rory brusquely leaves you confused and standing by the library's front counter, and as soon as he's out of your sight he sprints to the nearest empty container- a cardboard box- to hurl. A dozen scarlet blossoms soon paint the packaging.

A librarian approaches him with hesitant concern. "Rory, are you sure you don't want me to call the ambu-"I said I'm fine." Between the dry heaves he shoots his coworker a nasty glare. "And don't you dare tell them what's going on." 

"But-" Rory stalks away to the restroom so he can rinse his mouth. Sure, all this could be solved if he confesses how he's carried a torch for you for these past several years. But you were too kind, you would no doubt put his feelings over your own. And if you were to reciprocate out of guilt than mutual affection, his shame would be much more excruciating than the countless thorns that pierced him now.

Tobias:

Tobias thought he was pretty honest to himself and others, somebody who lived as his heart desires. But the petals, drenched in crimson sitting in his shaking hands tell him otherwise, and he wonders where he went wrong. 

There's a knock, and he quickly wipes away the flowers with a makeup wipe before the dressing room door opens and a staff member pokes his head in. "Mr. Fox, five minutes until filming," he says. "A lot of your fans are here today, so don't forget your image and keep your relationship a secret, okay?" 

"Yeah, I know~" Tobias flashes a grin that melts as soon as the door closes. He sends you a quick text. 

Gonna go live soon babe! A lot of my fans are here today but don’t forget that I only have eyes for you

As soon as he hits send he feels the telltale sign of the garden growing in his throat. "So that's why," Tobias mutters to himself, smiling bitterly. Whether he should announce his relationship and possibly destroy his career, or prioritize his career and put his relationship in jeopardy, the predicament twisted his gut as he reached for another makeup wipe.

[juicezone]

1, 7, 8, 37, C, D?

1: What’s the maximum amount of time your character can sit still with nothing to do? Ward can sit still for like.. five or ten minutes unless he's super focused on his work, and half the time he works standing anyway (in which case thats.. not nothing to do so Cooper can sit still for a decent while! He used to pride himself on sitting so quietly people forgot he was there when they were younger and he's not very successful in breaking that habit. probably around the 20-30 minute mark Rory can definitely sit still for a long time, and usually cherishes the chance to because he's so busy on the farm. WILL probably fall asleep though! Sometimes just zones out, especially after a long day or if hanging out with farm babies

7: What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling? Ward: listening to rain on umbrellas and weather reports specifically for his hometown! Also, kids science cartoons. Yeah, he likes the feeling of nostalgia, though mostly when he's not regressed (when he's little, he's too active to sit and appreciate nostalgia lol) Cooper: Books about ducklings + rubber duckies, gumballs (esp the like 25 cent ones), and sleeping bags! They don't dislike the feeling of nostalgia, but they can only take so much before it starts bringing him down Rory: Juice boxes! Fruit salad skewers, and blowing on dandelions. Not too bothered either way about nostalgia, honestly

8: What were they told to stop/start doing most often as a child Ward: START READING. if it wasnt a science related book, ward could not care less about it. genuinely, English classes were a misery for all parties involved! Stop going outside without a raincoat, and dang it, stop going outside in the middle of huge storms! Cooper: Would get told he needed to start speaking up for himself if he wanted things, and then would get told to stop being so demanding :/ "You need to start letting your siblings play with you!" "If you dont want them to touch your things, you need to stop leaving them out" <- older sibling never wins moments Rory: Please stop falling asleep in the sheep pen, we cannot find you. PLEASE. (POV: you are capri and you cant find your regressor in the sheep herd and the sheep totally know and wont help you)

37: Do they have a system for remembering names, long lists of numbers, things that need to go in a certain order (like anagrams, putting things to melodies, etc)?  Ward: Does not even bother, honestly. Basic memorization and simple frequency of usage is enough for him! ( but he's the kind of person to ask why you have color coded folders). Otherwise his work organization is entirely just.. related to the topic lol. Weather science - Non-weather science, but no fancy tricks! Cooper: Is the sort of person to mumble "Righty tighty, left loosey" under their breath! More likely to use anagrams, prefers things reasonably color coded (red engineering/security, blue science/medical, gold command). is the type to get stressed by trying to create ways to remember that are too specific, so they end up getting stress Rory: Color coding, usually! Nothing super complex, he doesnt have a lot he really needs to specifically remember

C) Did you have trouble figuring out where they fit in their own story? <- not at all embarrassed to admit my (agere) ocs are pretty much self indulgent first, story second D) Have they always had the same physical appearance, or have you had to edit how they look? Definitely edited for rory! At first he was more human and like. with horns and non-human ears and then i went "hmmm. you know what? lets have more fun with that" (also lowkey embarrassing bc i used to specifically try and like.. idk simplify? baby-fy? whatever my art style instead of just like. drawing like usual lol

[vortexhq]

greetings from fairewoods, california! we hope you're having a wonderful time, harley keener ( marvel — mcu & comic influences ) and francisco "forrest nash" sanchez ( killer frequency ), here in our little sanctuary! make sure you read the checklist, and we'll be sending you the discord link through ims! welcome to a land where everyone gets their happy ever after, arden!

{  marvel ( mcu + comic influences, canon, ca ).  froy gutierrez;  ze / zem + he / him;  nonbinary.  }  —  do you hear that? it sounds like ( everybody dies ) by ( rory webley ).  i think i heard ( harley keener ) playing this before.  have you met them yet?  they’re a ( twenty - three ) year old ( head mechanic at fairewoods automotive repair and for - hire hacker ), and they’re usually always hanging around ( beyond tavern ).  they’re known around town for ( getting banned for a year from claw carousel for clearing through all of their machines ); fitting for them, since they’re so ( innovative ) yet ( blunt ).  they’re sort of associated with ( trying to walk through the wild tundra of a snowstorm, the dried stains of machine grease left on calloused hands, and mindless patterns drawn onto the condensation of a glass ) which makes total sense when you get to know them.  i wonder how they’ve been doing lately;  last i heard from them, they were telling me about a dream they had?  something about ( not being able to help tony more before his death ), but i’m not sure what they were talking about.  they always do tell the strangest stories…  //  [  arden,  26 / pst,  he / she / it.  ]

{ killer frequency ( canon, ca ).  edgar ramirez;  he / him;  cis man.  }  —  do you hear that? it sounds like ( dancing in the dark ) by ( bruce springsteen ).  i think i heard ( francisco sanchez ( forrest nash ) ) playing this before.  have you met them yet?  they’re a ( fourty - seven ) year old ( late night radio host for fwr77.9 ), and they’re usually always hanging around ( sapphire sound ).  they’re known around town for ( moving back to fairewoods despite aspirations for something "more" growing up ); fitting for them, since they’re so ( ambitious ) yet ( aloof ).  they’re sort of associated with ( fireflies coming out with the steady breeze of a summer night, matching heartbeat with the drumming rhythm of an addictive song, and familiarities in steadying emotions in high - stress situations ) which makes total sense when you get to know them.  i wonder how they’ve been doing lately;  last i heard from them, they were telling me about a dream they had?  something about ( not being able to stop peggy from going alone to meet marie ), but i’m not sure what they were talking about.  they always do tell the strangest stories…  //  [ arden,  26 / pst,  he / she / it.  ]

[screenstretch]

From Sonsoles Print Studio @sonsolesprintstudio (Instagram) 💙

➡️ https://bookwhen.com/sonsolesprintstudio ⬅️ (link In Sonsoles bio)

This September 🛎️ Our first *EVER* CMYK workshop is finally here! Rory will be teaching you all you need to know + screenprint your very own 4 colour separation print from start to finish 😀 all materials included, more info below:

CMYK changed the image reproduction industry and has impacted printed matter thereon. Exploring how to push the boundaries of this foundational screen-printing method for surprising, experimental results.

In Part 1 we learning the rules in order to break them and get creative! A comprehensive understanding of CMYK’s limitations, potentials and reasoning.

In Part 2 we expand on ways to subvert CMYK norms into making exciting and different developments

Beginner to Intermediate

Wednesday 25th | 7pm - 9pm | Part 1 - Theory and Separations

Saturday 28th | 10am - 4pm - Part 2 - Exposing and Printing

What’s covered:

Digital art-working CMYK separations

Bitmapping

LPI - DPI

Angles

Frequency

Stochastic dots

Printing

Printing a square on a square on a square on a square

Inks

Moiré mitigation /exposing

🏃 Limited Spaces.

Led by @roryprints #cmykprinting #cmyk #cmyk_dots #screenprintingcmyk

[byoldervine]

Forbidden Characters

So I've got a few characters that were originally planned out for my WIP book Byoldervine, but have either been removed from the story or didn't make the cut in the concept phase. I figured it would be fun to introduce them to you guys as they may appear as background characters later on if needed, and I think it's funny to look back on what these characters could've brought to the story and why it didn't fit the vision

First off, we have Perianth 'Peri' Attolus, and to be honest she's the one I'm most upset about losing. Back when I was still writing Byoldervine as a duology, Perianth was going to be a main character in 'The Heir and the Cure', in which Perianth was going to team up with Kennedy and Connor to travel Paracosm searching for a cure for the Byoldervine Sickness. If you've read my other post concerning the Celestials, you might've worked out that Perianth was intended to be Nordsvark Attolus' daughter - her motivation would've been to complete her father's work to find a cure. Perianth is very sweet and friendly, but also quite naive due to her sheltered upbringing. Perianth would've been considered a 'powerless goddess', not worthy of taking her father's place as the realm's deity in the event of his death, though it would later have been discovered that she has shapeshifting abilities

The reason I cut her from the story was the realisation that she served very little purpose to the actual plot aside from providing the inciting incident, and I had this realisation when I figured out that I could combine my duology into one book. Her notable traits were also very easily filled by other existing characters; there's an overabundance of godly princesses already, Sy loves fashion and experimenting with their appearance, Connor is very chipper and friendly, Lazulai has a close connection with Nordsvark that can provide the same inciting incident/plot progression Perianth would have, etc. Plus I figured I'd need to do as much as possible with the Cantor siblings as possible to justify so many names to memorise. Ultimately Perianth was pretty expendable to the plot, even if it sucks that she's been cut

Next up, we have Sadie, who was also originally planned for 'The Heir and the Cure'. Sadie is a selkie who lives on the island of Haffolk in Paracosm, working as a lifeguard to ensure the safety of anyone who may hear a siren singing in the water. Originally Sadie was going to join the main gang after helping them out when they arrived in Haffolk. Sadie is another sweet and friendly person, one who is naturally helpful and curious, though at times she can put the safety of others before her own. Sadie's language is also Mer, which as I've discussed before is largely just a game of humming and singing at a certain pitch and frequency to communicate. Because of this, she struggles to properly communicate with the rest of the gang, but she always does her best despite being largely non-verbal

The reasons why Sadie was cut are pretty much the same as for Perianth; so little plot impact and so many other characters who could take on her notable traits - save for the lanaguage barrier. Sadie wasn't originally created for the story, anyway; she was first created as a Wattpad roleplay character back when I was in my early teens, and I figured it would be good to bring her into the story. I'll likely bring her in as a minor character if I have the current group head to Haffolk, but unless I get to that point Sadie's going back to just being an old roleplay character

This final character is interesting because she was never actually planned as part of Byoldervine at all; Eleanor Stevens was Persephone's half-sister back in Persephone's concept phase, before Byoldervine was even an idea in my head. I cringe thinking back on all this, but back in lockdown I started writing a fanfic (I'm NOT saying what the fic was from, I never published it thank god) whose main character was Rory Stevens. The plot was something along the lines of a superhero team trying to learn the secrets of a new and much more publicly-respected superhero, trying to form alliances and gain an understanding of their mysterious powers and all that stuff while also navigating further plots from supervillains, cultists, demons and even their own manipulative leader. Eleanor was Rory's beloved half-sister who she tries her best to always look out for, with Eleanor even being the reason Rory became a superhero in the first place. Eleanor was a very shy girl working hard to improve her social skills, though when she was with her older sister or anyone else she was already comfortable with, she would be chatting your ear off and making random or even occasionally inappropriate jokes. She also had quite a strong sense of justice, which could lead to her going feral if someone was giving her or someone she cares about a hard time. She was very fun to write

I eventually realised that "Hey, this fic could actually work as a standalone story if I changed some character names around, nobody would even realise it's supposed to be a fic of X media" and Rory Stevens became Persephone Foster for the book 'Unholy War', which by this point is just going to be 'Byoldervine' since I've combined the two books into one. Unfortunately I couldn't work out a legitimate reason for Eleanor's existence when Alicia can always just text her existing daughter back once in a while if she wanted to be a mum again. I could potentially introduce Eleanor as a step-sister for angst if I feel like it, but I don't think I'll be going down that route unless I get a sudden burst of inspiration down the line

But yeah, these are my characters that didn't make it into Byoldervine and the reasons why. It's actually really cool for me to be able to reflect on these characters and realise just how far this has come, especially since Eleanor shows just how far back the general plot pre-dates even Byoldervine's conception