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devilscreekballad · 1 month

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As a special treat, to bridge the waiting time, here's the first 7000 words of the new Interlude Chapter from Charlie's PoV.

I will post the full Interlude Chapters (Charlie, Meadows, and Lynwood) on Patreon once they are done, and then in the game once ch7 is ready to go live. Note, the interlude chapters won't have any choices, but you will be able to see the character's stats in the stat screen during them.

Enjoy, leave feedback, and please do ignore the code-formatting and typos Dx I hope Tumblr won't mess up formatting to direly >_>

~+~

Something is dreadfully amiss. The dreadful, icy and nauseating feeling spreading in your stomach has you know before you are even awake enough to realize that Matt is calling for you. Screwing your eye open you blink into the dimly lit room.

By all means, it's early in the morning, the sun hasn't even really risen yet, but Matt looks as if he's standing in broad daylight. On a quite foggy day, but nevertheless.

"What's wrong," you whisper, not awake enough to communicate coherently by thought, but not so sleepy that you would not take caution not to wake up $nick.

That's when you realize just //what// is amiss.

"Where's $nick?" you hush, your voice a croaking whisper, worry stealing your breath.

//'Kidnapped,'//Matt answers, with an expression of despair you reckon must mirror your own perfectly.

There are people, some of them self-proclaimed mediums, that claim that the dead lost their ability to feel emotions. Right now Matt is certainly proving them as wrong as it's humanly possible to prove someone wrong.

Hastily you rub your eye and light the lamp, fishing for your clothes as soon as you can see.

"What happened?" you demand, clambering out of bed and into your garments.

//'$fname had a nightmare again, I think'// Matt answers, taking a calming breath, //'$They got up, got dressed and went for a walk. Clear $their head, I'd assume. I didn't think big of it. But when $they didn't return I got worried and went to check, and… found this trio what kidnapped $them, headin' to a farm bit outside o' town. One in the middle o' the woods.'//

With a curt and disbelieving nod you sink back onto the bed, stopping mid-movement of pulling your boots on. How did you not notice $them leaving? How could you miss that? Biting back a whimper you finish getting dressed and grab your guns. Matt Stops You.

//'Charlie, don't. These guys are a bit too much to handle alone. An' it ain't just the three of them, don't even think o' goin' there on yer own,'// he goes, and you wince softly.

"I…" you stutter, flexing your hands nervously. With a deep breath you lean against the small table by the door and sort your thoughts. //'I won't,'// you answer in thoughts, pulling yourself together. Matt nods satisfied.

//'Where's that farm?'// you ask.

//'Past the woods north of town.'//, Matt answers.

With a curt nod you grab your coat.

//'Matt, is Mrs. Meadows awake?'//.

Matt vanishes briefly, reappearing with a nod.

//'Up since sunrise, so just a little bit longer than you.'//

//'Sounds about right.'//

Still trying to calm yourself you make your way down the corridor to Mrs. Meadows room, knocking urgently before you have even come to a full halt.

Mrs. Meadows opens, looking at you intrigued and a little confused, both expressions however shifting into that of alarmed worry as the implications of you being up at this early hour already sink in. Maybe you really ought to be more of an early bird at times, be less predictable.

"What's the matter?" Mrs. Meadows inquires, judging by her look she's doing a mental tally of how many of her medical supplies she'll need as well as how much scolding she'll have to do.

"$nick got kidnapped," you answer. And as you expected (well, it was one of several anticipated scenarios) Mrs. Meadows pulls you into the room, hastily closing the door behind you.

While Finley and Miss Florence — both already awake to your surprise — watch you quite baffled, you fill Mrs. Meadows in on what happened.

"I just woke up to find $nick gone, an'… " you pause, taking another calming breath, and looking at Mrs. Meadows. "We gotta do somethin'. For all I know $their kidnappers took $them to a farm 'bout an hour north of town."

Finley looks the most alarmed.

"Is $title $Name alright?" he asks, causing you to squirm a little.

//'$They <>were<>was<> when I headed back here,'// Matt tells you.

"For… all I know, yes," you answer the question, your voice shaking.

And Mrs. Meadows frowns, deeply and darkly. At a glimpse you can tell she's pondering just //why// someone would kidnap $nick.

"You certainly made yourself a lot of enemies," she says, her nose wrinkling ever so slightly in dismay, but there's a twitch of her brow that indicates a stray thought that threw a much more positive light on you.

You narrow your eye at her, searching her face.

"I'd be surprised if that would not have been the case," you respond. your shoulders slumping a little. After all, it's true. In all the time you've been riding with $nick you may have seen some weird and marvelous things, gotten out of quite a number of unbelievable and peculiar situations, and messed with a broad array of odd and strange characters. That's bound to piss some fellers off.

"I hope yer willing to help us with this?", you continue, a little meekly.

"That depends on how you know what happened."

"Huh?"

Oh. Oh for crying out loud? Is she serious? By what you can fathom she apparently decided that you are in cahoots with the kidnappers.

She wrinkles your nose in open dismay now, and you glare back. Gracious, you came to her for help, she's expecting the worst it'd seem: Probably that you are trying to lure her out of town, dispose of her and then make a run for it. As if you'd ever.

Well, alright, you would make a run for it, under very different circumstances, but you see no reason to harm her, so why would you?

"What? Do you think this is a ruse to get ya off our backs?" you ask, bluntly, and rather annoyed.

"Indeed," she respond coldly.

You grimace, drawing a deep, sharp breath. You knew it, and you hate every second of it. You need to calm down, urgently. This won't do you good if you're not getting your mind remotely clear, and it will do $nick even worse. Alright. From the start again, with the truth this time.

"Matt told me," you cry out, exasperated, holding Mrs. Meadows's gaze. A twitch of the eyes and a slightly, sharp intake of breath. Yes, she's not pleased with this information and she's not believing it, as you expected. "Look, I know ya don't believe I can speak to the dead, but…"

Mrs. Meadows straightens her posture more than you'd think possible (what you can tell is that she didn't even do it intentionally), somehow managing to make you feel as if she's glowering down at you despite being about half a foot smaller than you.

"Correct. I don't," she says. "But you //are// shaken to your core, and; despite all I have heard about your capabilities as an actor, I will give you the benefit of the doubt that you are not up to anything stupid. Because, must I remind you just who'd be on your tail if this goes sideways?"

You let out a long, exhausted breath. A part of you is furious that she'd believe you are out for betrayal, as if you wouldn't know Blayne would be on your tail. And all just because being able to talk to ghost isn't part of her understanding of the world.

For crying out loud.

But at least she is willing to… help? Play along? You better be careful.

"So… yer goin' to help, right?" you ask, trying not to have your voice waver too much.

"Naturally," she answers. //'Charlie?'//

//'Mnn?'//

//I've just checked the farmstead. There were about a dozen men at there when I left, and I have a feeling there might be more to arrive,'// Matt tells you, //'But… Those men… It's odd… I don't think are with those that actually kidnapped $fname.'//

//'What do ya mean?'//

//'The men that did the kidnappin'… They were yer petty crooks, ruthless but without much of a plan or wits. Well, the youngest one seems to have something going on in his brain, but he ain't inclined to make much use of that. And then there's this other guy… Wiry, flaxen-haired feller named Wilkie, if I heard it right. Creeps me out like nothing else.'//

That's not good. Matt never was someone easily shaken, and that hasn't change in death.

//'But those men at the farm…'// Matt shudders. //'They're yer typical hired muscle, just the kind rich bastards like most.'//

"Fuck…" you mutter, earning surprised and confused glances from the people around you. Hastily you fill them in on what Matt just told you.

Mrs. Meadows searches your face, but nods soberly and heads out of the room. Knowing her she's out to wake O'Brian and Burke. Matt vanishes for a moment, confirming the notion as he returns shortly after.

"This is terrible," Miss Florence says, and you look at her. "I'm so sorry to hear this."

"Thank you, miss. And it's my fault," you say, your mind still racing.

"Oh, don't say that," Miss Florence goes. "I mean, you didn't hire those goons, did you?"

"I…" you begin and blink, a sad smile tugging on your lips. "I'm just worried."

"And I think you can see this through.

With a heavy, gloomy sigh you shake your head. You really don't know. You have been in similar situations, but <>things have changed now, throwing a very different light on things<>with everything that happened lately..<>

You rub your brow, shaking your head again.

"Oh, please don't despair," Miss Florence says, smiling at you concerned and full of hope and honesty. "I'm certain you can see this through. Going by all I have by now seen and heard of you."

This causes you to pause.

"Thank you," you say, pressing your eye shut and forcing yourself to calm down. You are grateful for Mrs. Meadows returning that moment, Burke and O'Brian in tow.

It's quite curious to see the two young men like they appear right now. Given their usual demeanor one might expect them to take a while to get ready when roused from their sleep, but here they stand, wide awake, and with an air of grim determination about them. It would seem <>that no matter how rough a start they and $nick had with each other, the<>the<> two have taken quite a liking to $nick.

"Can't catch a break, can we?" O'Brian mutters, and you spot some unmistakable concern on his face, even though at first glance his tone might sound annoyed.

"Yer really great at pissin' people off that they went an' kidnapped $Name," Burke adds, "Wouldn't wanna be in the shoes of either of ya."

"Too kind, really," you grouse, but then again you know that Burke doesn't mean it in any condescending or insulting way. He just has the tact of a broken metronome.

And, as Mrs. Meadows before, he's not wrong.

Maybe $nick has a better point about starting a new life than you are willing to admit.

"So, what now?" Burke then asks, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, itching to do something.

"There aren't many options other than setting out to save $title $Name ourselves," Mrs. Meadows answers. "Getting the local law involved would be favorable, but I assume that whoever kidnapped $them might possibly kill $them at any sight of the sheriff or similar."

The others nod, and you try to fight off the bad feeling still weighing you down, when Matt nudges your shoulder. //'Charlie?'//

//'Yes?'//

//'Just remembered something. These men talked about usin' $fname as a bargaining chip.'//

//'Bargaining chip? What for?'//

Matt shrugs.

//'No idea…'// he paused, scratching his head. //'Somethin' 'bout exchangin' $fname for their boss' sister? Can't make heads or tails of it.'//

//'Ya did what ya can to help. Thank you.'//

Your mind is racing. For what would anyone consider $nick as a bargaining chip? Who's sister? Is this about Miss Florence? This makes no sense.

"It would seem these men kidnapped $nick to exchange $them for their boss' sister," you inform the others, rubbing your chin in thought. "That's what Matt says, at least."

"I am still reluctant to rely on a supposed ghost's information, but right now it's all we got," Mrs. Meadows responds, putting her best face forward, but she's very obviously displeased.

"Oh, I think we can trust this," O'Brian counters, earning a quite hearty hum of agreement from Miss Florence. Which in turn earns her a surprised look from the young man.

Meanwhile you are still trying to put the pieces together. So, there //is// the possibiloty that all of this is all but a brutal misunderstanding by Miss Florence's family. That they think you are holding Miss Florence hostage or something, and are now trying to exchange her for $nick. For all Miss Florence has told you about her family, they might be quite protective of her (especially since Robert's death) But you did not get the impression that they'd go this far. At all.

But you know not to rule things out unless you have facts to justify it.

"Miss Florence, if I may," you begin. "Permit me the question, I don't mean to insult ya, but… do ya have a brother who could and would do such a thing?"

Miss Florence blinks, sitting up in bed.

"No," she says, searching your face. "I mean, I have a brother, but he's in Lyon at the moment. Lyon in France, that is. I think there's some Lyons here in America, but, no, he's in France."

Good, that's rules out. Not that it felt as if there was much a basis to rule it in to begin with.

Shaking your head you lean against the wall.

"Hey," Burke suddenly speaks up."What about that bitch that tried to kidnap Miss Florence here?"

Oh, of course! You hate how rattled you must be to have overlooked this.

"Mrs. Robiquet?" Miss Florence asks equally surprised and innocently. "Ya know her?" Burke bursts out, and you share that surprised. Everyone in the room does, by all means.

"She… she's been a nurse at Merryborne," Miss Florence says. "I mean, I know her, didn't really talk to her, but that's why I was quite… freaked out when she showed up at the sheriff's office."

The rest of you exchange knowing glances.

"This Mrs. Rob….?" you begin.

"Robiquet," Miss Florence answers.

"This Mrs. Robiquet… What //do// ya know 'bout her?" you ask, and raise a gentle hand. "I hope I'm not ripping open old wounds."

Miss Florence ponders, and albeit she tries to not let it show, you spot the slight shiver shaking her thin frame, the nervous biting of her lower lip, before she draws a deep, calming breath, and leans back, recounting things.

"Not much", she says. "She was a nurse at Merryborne, and… she often was around where I was held, but I only know her name from hearing it from the other staff members." Suddenly Miss Florence's face lights up with a realization. "Oh! But I'm certain she does have a brother. I remember her rambling about how he has more than enough money to pay for her train tickets if he wants her to visit him. And that he should just buy the train if he doesn't want to do that."

With a small, knowing hiss you look first at Matt, then at the others.

"Rich family then," you note. Miss Florence nods, and you run a hand through your hair, anger and disgust growing in your chest.

"Hold up," O'Brian interrupts, pinching the bridge of his nose in desperate thought. "If these wankers kidnapped $Name to exchange $them for that Robiquet woman, how do they expect that to work?" He frowns as this is met with confused looks. "I mean, $Name is an outlaw, right? An' this Robiquet woman tried to kidnap Miss Florence //and// kill the sheriff an' his men. There's not really anythin' to exchange like that. So, how the Hell do they expect this plan to work?"

"Ya know very well that with rich people like that their intelligence is inversely proportional to the amount o' money they got," Burke deadpans, looking a little proud at himself when he realizes he got that term correct.

"Can't argue with that," you grunt.

"What…" Finley pipes up, making you twitch briefly as you had completely forgotten that the boy is here as well. "What if they wanna blackmail Mr. Mulligan into breakin' this Robiquet woman out?"

Well, there it is. You reckon the boy is spot on. Smart kid, and you mean it.

"That would unfortunately make a lot of sense," you mutter, sunken in thought, but still giving the boy an approving glance. "I certainly wouldn't put it beyond people like that to try such a thing."

"So, we're gonna go about this assuming that's the case?" O'Brian ventures, and you nod.

"An' we better hurry," you say, pushing yourself off the wall, checking your gun and heading out into the corridor… …only to very nearly crash right into Agent Lynwood.

"Mr. Mulligan," he greets, dryly, but with an air of surprise and maybe even relief. "I was just looking for you. Did not expect you to be up so early." Then he looks you over. "You look rather… exasperated."

Lynwood cranes his neck to look at the rest of the posse, furrowing his brow.

"I'm getting the impression something is quite amiss," he continues.

<>For a moment you consider lying to him to get him off your *if <=35 or $worriedforlyn>> back, but not only has $nick taken a bit of a liking to him, he's also proved himself to be far from as vile and obnoxious as he could have been. Considering things for a moment, you lower your voice. "$nick has been kidnapped, Agent Lynwood," you say, and Lynwood stares at you in disbelief. <> back, at the risk of causing a scene, when Mrs. Meadows speaks up. "$title $Name has been abducted," she states, nonchalantly, and Lynwood stares, quite baffled.<><>

"Come again?" he manages.

"Kidnapped," Mrs. Meadows repeats the information. "We are on our way to rescue $them."

By all means, you don't know what to make of her sharing that information like that. Lynwood, meanwhile, seems truly astonished.

"Just the four of you?" he asks, and you search his face and voice for signs of mockery. But all you find is genuine concern, curiosity and an immense lack of sleep. Although he's hiding the latter quite well. There's also a faint smell of alcohol, both the drinkable kind and the cheap cologne one.

"I reckon you should come with us," Mrs. Meadows then says, stepping past you. "You are a man of the law, Giles, as questionable as the methods of your agency may be."

"Hold it," O'Brian interrupts. "Didn't //you// just point out gettin' the law involved will get $Name killed?"

"The recognizable law, yes," Mrs. Meadows counters. "But Agent Lynwood's presence as a Pinkerton agent compared to a sheriff or marshal might be in our favor. He's far less recognizable as a man of the law." From Her Mouth To God's Ear. With a frown you roll your eye, just as the clicking and creaking of the doors along the corridor alarm you to the other guests on this floor getting angry or curious, if not both.

//'Charlie!'// It's been a while since you've seen Matt out of breath, mostly on account of him being dead for over a decade. But right now he is, meaning he jumped between the hereafter and the threshold quite quickly.

//'What?'//

//'Just talked to our new friends,'// he says, catching his breath. //'Ya should take Lynwood along. Several of the hired muscles in the group are greybacks from his old unit.'//

//'Yer kidding!'//

Matt shakes his head.

//'No such thing. But, good news, ya already sent two of'em to Hell back when they tried to kidnap Miss Florence. Still leaves two of'em alive.//

A curt nod and you grab Lynwood by the arm, making your way to the stairs. Lynwood protests, but you just glare at him.

"Listen, Agent," you begin as you head downstairs for his room. "For all we can tell these kidnappers are the kind o' hired muscle the rich and powerful of this fine nation love to hire when yer bloody agency is too mild-mannered for their taste and needs."

Lynwood pulls himself free from your grasp just as you reach his room, staring at you in growing alarm.

"How do you even know that?" he wonders, only to make a face that can only mean he realized, "Your ghosts, correct?"

"My brother, in fact."

Lynwood narrows his eyes at you. Not in a suspicious manner, but in way people do when they witness or think about something unpleasant and unsettling.

"Matthew, wasn't it? Read the story." He falls silent in thought.

"Listen," you snap. "If ya don't believe me, then say so. //Now//."

Lynwood knits his brow in thought. You realize he's actually wondering if //you// shouldn't know very well whether or not he believes you or not.

"It might surprise you," he then says, "but I do believe you. Wouldn't have sought your help if I wouldn't do so at least a little. So, these men… Your brother's certain about their nature?"

"Not just that," you answer, just as the rest of your group reaches you. "Two of'em have been part of yer old unit, //Bellegarde//."

Yes, it's unfair addressing him like that, given everything you've been informed about, but you figure that //this ways// he'll understand the gravitas of the situation much better.

The color drains entirely from Lynwood's face, before briefly coming back in a dark, angry red, only to fade again into a sickly pale hue as he first shakes his head, then nods curtly, pushing past you into his chambers.

"What was that?" O'Brian hushes.

"That's something the agent's ought to explain to you others himself if he feels it to be the right thing to do," you say, just as Lynwood emerges with his weapons in place.

"Let's make haste then," he says, and you follow him out to get your horses. It's odd, but for some reason—you reckon your brain is trying to distract itself from the Sword of Damocles hanging over your head— you particularly notice Lynwood's horse being a grey Missouri Foxtrotter mare with white sock and stocking markings on her hind legs.

"Where's $title $Name being kept?" Lynwood asks as you near the edge of the city, and you realize you haven't told him yet.

"The Honeysett farmstead a bit out of town," you answer. "Middle o' the woods."

Lynwood opens his mouth to ask something, but decides against it. By the look on his face, and the way his gaze flicks back and forth between you and Mrs. Meadows, you figure he, rightfully, assumes that talking about ghosts would only lead to unnecessary quarreling.

"Honeysett as in Isiah Honeysett?" Mrs. Meadows ventures.

"The same" you confirm.

"Take it your ghosts told you?" Lynwood interrupts. Just to make sure of his facts, by the sound of it.

"Not just any," you say. "Told ya it's me brother Matthew."

Lynwood turns to look at you and nods curtly.

"Sorry for your loss, by the by. Couldn't tell you earlier."

"That's kind of ya," you say with a curt nod, and you mean it. It's a bit unexpected hearing it from Lynwood, never the less. He's a Pinkerton after all, and given all his rambling about you being outlaws…

Huh, hold up.

"Agent Lynwood, do ya know anyone by the name of 'Robiquet'?"

Lynwood seems to ponder this, but shakes his head. His expression however reveals that that's not a 'no', and that the answer isn't sitting right with him.

"Not personally," he says. "Only by name. Rich family from Virginia or Alabama. Made their money in sugar and cotton, lost nearly everything after the war when they found themselves having to pay the people doing the work for them. Went into shipbuilding and mining now, I believe."

"How screwed is $Name in such company?" O'Brian muses out loud.

"$They <7>>could certainly be off much, much| couldn't be off<> worse," Burke answers, and you glare at both of them.

"Do you two ever think before you speak?" Mrs. Meadows scolds harshly, and both Burke and O'Brian sit up straight.

"Sorry, ma'am."

"Pull yourself together, you two," Mrs. Meadows continues, and the two utter a 'Yes, ma'am'.

And the group rides on.

It's not long till you can see the edge of the forest ahead, when something by some rocks and boulders nearby gets your attention. A Horse! It's a lonely horse build like a brick house, a <>chestnut Clydesdale (not $Name's, damn it)<>chestnut Clydesdale<>, saddled and trotting about nervously amongst the grass and rocks.

There's no need to signal the others to stop at the sight, as they all know better than to ride on carelessly, and Mrs. Meadows retrieves her rifle as Matt addresses you, looking rather awkward and guilty.

//'Umm…I should maybe have told ya 'bout this,'// he says, and you cast him a rather scolding glare.

//'Should we worry?'//

//'Maybe,'// he says and cranes his neck. //'Long story short, when those guys just came through here I spooked their horses, trying to get'em to stop. Overdid it a bit with the Clydesdale and she threw her rider off. Bloke hit his head on a stone and didn't get up again.'//

Somehow you feel more sorrow at that then dread or relief.

//'The others rode on, that Wilkie nearly shooting the other guy who was insisting on checking if the big guy mighta been still alive.'//

//'Take it that Wilkie didn't wanna waste time,'// you muse, when you hear a strained groan from a large rock near the horse.

"There's someone there," Burke alerts you at a movement, readying his gun.

You better tell them what Matt did, and quickly. So you do.

"Guy sure seems to be alive still," Burke notes as you finish relaying the information.

"What now?" O'Brian asks, and before you can answer, Mrs. Meadows marches over to the rock, rifle at the ready nevertheless.

What follows is her muttering in Cantonese, and you recognize she's swearing after a moment. Then she waves the group over, calling for you to get her her bag. Which You Do. The sight you find around the rock is a man the size of a grizzly or two laying slumped together against the stone. He's dizzy and disoriented, and the rock behind him is smeared with blood, but he's certainly alive.

"Didn't know angels can be Chinese," he mutters, seeing Mrs. Meadows, blinking blearily.

"I'm no angel, nor a demon, mainly on account of you not being dead," Mrs. Meadows retorts and crouches down before the man.

"My Holly got spooked, ma'am," the man continues. "She never does that. She's a good horse." Then he blinks. "Is it because we took that $Name? I said to Amos we shouldn't. But Amos said we need the money."

Well, at least that confirms that these are the guys Matt talked about.

"What's yer name?" you ask, stepping closer.

"Earl, sir," the man answers. "Earl Oakley."

"Like Annie Oakley?" you venture.

"I wish, sir. She's a fine woman, that Miss Oakley. Even if her name wasn't Oakley all the time. She's still a fine lass." Then the man looks closer at you. "Oh. Yer the other one Mr. Favor told us to take if we can't take $title $Name."

Jolly, innit?

Earl tries to sit up, only to get pushed back down by Mrs. Meadows.

"Hold still," she orders. "You got quite a nasty wound on your head, and I need to see to that."

"From the rock, ma'am, when Holly threw me off," Earl says, and you begin getting nervous again.

Matt nudges you gently, nodding you to keep calm.

It is however Lynwood who speaks up.

"Do we really have time for this?"

Mrs. Meadows turns around, glares, but her face quickly softens with a trace of guilt.

"I can't just leave him laying here," she says.

"Gotta give it to the Pink here," Burke speaks up. "If we wanna save $Name we oughta hurry."

At this Earl does pull himself up into a more upright position.

"$$title $Name will be fine, Mr. Favor said," he says. "Can't make a bargain with a broken chip, he said."

This isn't as reassuring as you'd like it to be…

Hmm…

"This 'Mr. Favor'," you begin. "What does he want $title $Name for?"

"The sheriff's got his sister because o' $title $Name an' you, an' Mr. Favor told us to go an' get ya //or// $title $Name, he said that very clearly. Get only one, not both. An' he said that will make the other get him his sister back. Amos said we could just go an' break her outta that cell, no big deal. Amos always says things are no big deal when they are, and Mr. Favor wouldn't hear any of it. Told us to do as he says. And to listen to this Wilkie. I like this Wilkie none, sir. Not even a bit."

There we go. Just as you feared.

"Guess we were spot on with our guess," O'Brian mutters, and kicks at the ground as Mrs. Meadows finishes patching Earl up. She then rises back to her feet, nodding Burke and O'Brian to help Earl back up.

"Earl, where did they bring $title $Name to?" she asks.

Earl points, guilt and thankfulness written equally on his face.

"That way, ma'am. In the woods. It's a farmstead, ma'am, with a big barn. Wilkie wanted to do away with the farmers, but I just knocked them out. Can you make sure they are alright?" Then he shuffles a little uncertain, sitting down again. "An'… an' can ya make sure Amos is alright as well? Amos isn't bad, ma'am. Not much at least. He tries, but he's no good at bein' bad. That's what he always tells me I am, but he is just the same."

Mrs. Meadows nods, and so do you, before Mrs. Meadows turns to O'Brian and Burke.

"You two are the best riders. You get this man back to…" before she can finish Earl grabs her wrist, startling her, his hand covering almost her entire lower arm.

"No, ma'am. Ya go an' get $title $Name. I'll wait here. An'… can you tell $them I'm sorry? $title $Name seemed nice, and Mr. Favor is nothin' but a bad man."

Mrs. Meadows looks at Earl for a moment, quickly checks him over again, before she nods and heads back to her horse, mounting up.

With a bit of hesitation you follow, after Matt reassured you to stay here and make sure Earl doesn't do anything you'd regret. A Little Later. There's a well-used track winding through the trees, leading to a sizable clearing in a shallow valley where the farmhouse is located. The trees along the edge of the little hollow provide plenty of cover and after leaving the horses nearby you edge closer, surveying the farm below.

There's a large barn, a paddock and a small orchard ready to be harvested to the left, and the farmhouse to the right. And a lot of open space between it. All of it occupied by grim looking men with more muscles than anyone should have, and as many morals as braincells.

"I'm countin' five… no six outside," O'Brian hushes, lowering his spyglass. "An' at least two in the farmhouse."

"So prob'ly more," Burke adds, "An' then some in the barn. At least them being in the farmhouse means the farmers are still alive. No need stationin' anyone there if that weren't the case."

The rest of you nods, agreeing to that.

"That makes at least eleven," you note sourly, weighing your chances, as a shiver runs down your spine.

//"Charlie?"// There's a dreadful, frightened tone in Matt's voice that, paired with the growing bad feeling, has you fear the worst.

//"What… what's wrong?"//

The pause Matt makes has your stomach turn.

//"It's $fname…"//

"No…" you manage in a choked whisper, slumping back, your stomach turning. "Please, God, no…"

//"$They<>'re<>'s<> alive,"// Matt hastily reassures you, looking quite panicked at your reaction. "But those fucks gave $them quite a beatin', dunno what happened. Ya gotta hurry."

"What's wrong?" Burke nudges you, and you realize everyone is looking at you with severe worry.

"It's $nick…$They", you begin and relay what Matt just told you. The alarmed and devastated looks on the others' faces is not at all reassuring.

"So we better make haste," Mrs. Meadows says, turning back to the farm. What Now… "Thinking about the best approach, aren't you?" Lynwood asks, brow furrowed darkly.

"Of course. Aren't you?" Mrs. Meadows retorts.

Lynwood snorts a humorless laugh.

"Not much to strategize here, is there?" he grunts. "We're outnumbered on either end of the farm, with the major part of our opponents right between the barn and the farmhouse. If we try to pick them off in either location their companions will rush in from the others and make short notice of us and their hostages."

"$Name and the farmers," Mrs. Meadows notes matter-of-factly, but your not really listening anymore.

It's a feeling as if you've swallowed something rotten whole, and it festers in your chest. A cold, stinging pain all through your body, wrapping icy tendrils around your heart <><> And one other feeling weighing you down even more: Guilt. Not for not waking up and thus getting $nick kidnapped, that wasn't your fault, as much as you blame yourself for it. No. It's the guilt and despair over not being honest with $nick about what you feel for $them. You //love// $them, for God's sake. No matter how $they might feel about you, whether or not $they <>reciprocate<>reciprocates<> your feelings, $they still ought to know how you feel. And now you might never even get the chance to tell $them. Not while $they<>'re<>'s<> still alive, at least, you muse, bitterly. <> And you know exactly why you are feeling like this: As high up as the euphoria from $nick reciprocating your feelings has had you soar, as deep is the valley of despair you are plunging into at the prospect of losing $them like this. All these years you've been riding together, all these years neither of you caught on on what the other felt, denied it even, felt it impossible. And just when you open up about your feelings, this happens. It's not the first time you fear for $nick, but it's so, so much worse now. <><>

"Bloody Hell!" Lynwood exclaims, ripping you from your gloomy thoughts. "You got to be kidding me!"

He lowers his binoculars and blinks.

"What?" you ask, and he points towards the man currently leaving the farmhouse, two men in tow. The man is small and stocky, sporting a sculpted mustache, and carrying an air of boisterous arrogance that is, unfortunately, appearing to be backed up by a ruthless cunning. There's also an undeniable resemblance to the woman that tried to kidnap Miss Florence.

Something else also strikes you as familiar, but you can't put your finger on it.

"You know who that is?" Lynwood asks, almost casually, but the utter surprise and traces of worry betray his nonchalant demeanor.

"He looks familiar, but I dunno," you admit, and see if Matt has an idea. He doesn't.

"Jean-Baptiste Favreau," Lynwood says, darkly. "Guess that's the ominous 'Mr. Favor'. If you ever researched the finances of anyone rich in this nation, you very likely stumbled upon the name." He pauses, waiting if anyone else knows the guy, but continues as that isn't the case. "I'll tell you the details once $Name is safe and sound," you say, "But for now… He's quite bad news. The kind of man you don't want to cross, disappoint or insult. By having his family face consequence for, let's say, an attempted kidnapping. For example."

That's not good. Though you are almost inclined to appreciate Lynwood's dry humor.

"He's also leavin'," Burke interrupts in a stage whisper, drawing everyone's attention back to the farm.

Favreau is indeed climbing into a waiting coach, while a total of four men mount up, two of them on the coach, two on horses, all heavily armed. Favreau barks some orders you can't really make out, but there's a weight lifting off your heart as the group rides off into the opposite direction of where you are, leaving you with a slightly more reasonable number of opponents to handle.

"In the hope I won't jinx it, but damn, that's lucky for us," O'Brian mutters.

"Still got more than enough on our hands," you say, making a curt nod at Matt. "Give Matt a moment to check what we're up against now." So You Wait. //"Six in the barn, three in the house,"// he informs you, and you forward the information. //"Not countin' Earl's brother."//

//"Pardon?"// you wonder.

//"They put him through the wringer, too. Got a nasty wound on his head and back. He's looking worse than $Name."//

//"That's no good… Will he be okay?"// It's hard to tell why you are worried for someone you've never met but who you, by all means, shouldn't feel sorry for. Maybe it's because of the impression you got from Earl.

//"If he gets medical help sooner than later, likely."//

//"And the farmers?"//

//"Awake, so far uninjured, and probably up to do something stupid."//

//"So we gotta hurry even more…"// you frown, and turn to the others giving them the new information.

"Bugger," Burke mutters. "So, what now?"

"We have to split up," Lynwood suggests. "Even with the numbers more even, it won't do if we clear one side of the farm, only to have the buggers on the other catch on. Especially if the farmers are about to try something."

Burke nods, but then furrows his brows.

"How long ya think we got?" he asks, looking at Lynwood, who blinks surprised.

"You mean until the farmers do some-…" His face darkens. "You mean until Favreau will return, right?"

Burke nods again.

"There's no way in Hell that guy ain't headin' to town to force Mulligan here to free his sister. An' when he finds Mulligan gone…"

"He'll come back here an' all Hell will break loose," you finish the thought, shuddering. //"Matt?"//

//"Far ahead o' ya, Charles,"// Matt informs you, with a grim playfulness. //"Our new friends gonna keep an eye on him. Make sure he won't come back here any time soon."//

With a soft, relieved sigh you tell the others what's going on. That's at least something.

"Hey!" O'Brian suddenly calls out, nodding towards the farmhouse. One of the grizzlies is making his way over to the barn, looking indisputable upset.

"Seven in the barn then, two in the house," you mutter, sourly. "Is that better or worse?"

"It doesn't make much of a difference," Mrs. Meadows answers, casually checking her rifle. "I suggest two of us head to the house and take out the two men there. The others get into position in the barn and await the others attacking from the other side."

"Best choice we have," Lynwood agrees.

"Only choice we got, innit?" Burke grunts, checking his weapons as well. "So, how we gonna do that?"

"Giles is an excellent sharpshooter," Mrs. Meadows declares in a tone so matter-of-fact that it's almost comical, while Lynwood looks as if he doesn't know what to make of that compliment. "One of us has to head to the farmhouse, the other heads to the barn."

"Tommy should take the barn," O'Brian speaks up. "He's the better shot an' fighter outta the two o' us, makes more sense to have him where more people are."

Burke nods curtly.

And then all of you look at Mrs. Meadows expectantly. Were the situation not so dire it'd be almost comical how each of you decided that she'd be the best choice to take the lead. "I shall head to the farmhouse with Mulligan," Mrs. Meadows announces after almost no hesitation, and you tense your muscles. Not because it'd be a bad idea, but the way she's carrying herself when she says it, the way she's first stoically avoiding to look at you, but then sharply snaps her head around…

She's up to something. You figure she's very likely to still think that this is a trap, and that you're in cahoots with the kidnappers.

There's a sense of disappointment flitting across your chest, but you do your best to not let it show.

You nod in agreement.

"Hold up!" O'Brian suddenly yowls in discontent.

"That's leavin' Tommy and me with the Pinkerton." he complains.

"I assure you, O'Brian, the feeling is mutual," Lynwood retorts, rolling his eyes for the briefest of moments.

"O'Brian," you call out, pinching the bridge of your nose, "it's not as if Lynwood's gonna drag ya off to Redhurst while we're dealin' with the guys in the house."

"You don't know that!" Burke protests, sounding scandalized.

"I do believe he knows that fairly well. I'm not an idiot." Lynwood frowns, checking his weapon. "$Name is the priority now, and we have already wasted enough time."

"We still ought to proceed with care," Mrs. Meadows speaks up, checking her own weapons. "Don't be rash, unless you have no other choice."

The others nod, and Mrs. Meadows motions you to follow her to the house.

#the ballad of devil's creek #baodc development #baodc spoilers #interactive fiction #baodc

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ghl-osty · 9 months

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fanfiction

i’d like to talk about fanfiction real quick because there are some issues really frequently that can make or break a story. and they’re avoidable!! and it makes me so sad when i’m trying to read a good fanfic and there’s so many errors that i have to stop.

NAMES

so this is one i see surprisingly often… please make sure you know how to spell a character’s name when writing a fanfiction. it’s usually something small like damian vs. damien or lucas vs. lukas but to me it’s so distracting and disappointing when there’s a beautifully written story with a character’s name spelled wrong.

SPELLING

this is a big one, too. when writing, some people don’t always have a spell check or an editor built in to their platform. if that’s you, please triple check your work! and here are a few frequent ones i see-

-shook vs. shock

i shook his hand

i was in shock that she did such a horrible thing

-peaked vs. piqued

-he looked like he peaked in high school

-they piqued my interest

blonde vs blond

-she had blonde hair

-he had blond hair

blonde is a gendered word. i’m not actually sure how it’s used with nonbinary people, let me know!

their, there, and they’re

-it was theirs

-she’s over there

-they were scared, and now they’re not

remember that they’re is a contraction of they are!

quite vs. quiet

she tried to be quiet, not making any noise.

they were quite bored with this whole event.

(thank you to @nathaaaan for the suggestion)

SERIES VS. SERIE

i watched a really good series yesterday

serie isn’t actually a word…

BILINGUAL CHARACTERS

please, please, please do some research if you write a character who speaks another language. even if it’s reading other fanfictions to figure out how your character’s language fits in with the language you’re writing with.

-having a character to say that it’s ’hard to switch back’ is… unrealistic at best. i wouldn’t recommend using it.

-please gender the words correctly! in most of the romance languages, words are gendered. make sure to add that in!

REPETITION

unless you’re going for a gimmick, i’d be careful with repetition. having a character say something more than once, especially in the same sentence, can be annoying and makes the dialogue sound forced.

especially the word antics…. i literally had to put a fic down because ‘antics’ was in every other sentence.

ex: “Lily sighed, annoyed. She was so annoyed!”

(yes this is a real actual example with the character name changed. don’t let this be you.)

FORMATTING

i think this can be overlooked a lot but format is important!!!

-paragraph breaks!! seeing a huge chunk of words with absolutely no breaks is overwhelming. add some space!

-“the punctuation goes inside the quotations.” he said

-i know i’m being a bit of a hypocrite, but capitalization! names, beginning of sentences, and places!! if you don’t capitalize, at least be consistent with it!

“This is how fanfiction, or really any writing, should be formatted.” Eli said with a smile

“And every new sentence should be a paragraph break,” interjected Alex, “Unless you’re going for a certain style. In which case, you do you.”

Eli sighed. “That’s true, Alex. What OP didn’t know was that tumblr has a formatting issue, so that when she posts this, the paragraph breaks won’t show! She hopes she fixed it. But it might not work!”

“We can always imagine the bullet points as paragraph breaks.”

-friendly neighborhood reminder that paragraph breaks happen when introducing a new idea as well!

-bolds and italics are important.

“I told him not to go,” acceptable, a bit dry.

“I told him not to go,” exquisite, flavorful.

and as always. please make sure they’re talking like people. not disney sitcom characters.

PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE TENSE

you would not believe how much i see this messed up. and it’s easy to get wrong. remember, you can always look something up if you aren’t sure. but stay consistent with your tenses!

past tense

She walked up to the drab, grey building, trembling. As she pulled the door open, a bell rang, signaling her arrival.

this one’s probably the most used. notice that it’s almost like we’re retelling the story, after it’s already happened (hence past tense)

present tense

She walks up to the drab, grey building, trembling. She pulls the door open, and a bell rings to signal her arrival.

we have to change quite a few words for the same sentence to make sense in present tense.

future tense

She’ll walk up to the drab, grey building, trembling. She’ll pull the door open, and a bell will ring to signal her arrival.

i honestly don’t think i’ve ever seen future tense used in a novel unless it’s used in dialogue. but it’s almost as if you’re speaking hypothetically about an event.

but please make sure you’re consistent with these! don’t use one and then switch to another!!

now of COURSE writing is a form of creation, and you can ultimately do whatever you want! if you want to write something, write it. this is just a little guide for some of the mistakes i see most often!

but all in all just double check your writing, always!!! there are so many good works out there that could be great.,… if you don’t have someone to beta read you can always send it to me or put it in word <3

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ryanyflags · 4 months

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On archiving lgbt/mogai content

Everyone is of course free to what they want, but during my time searching for terms, and archiving their sources, I have a couple of ideas that I think would be helpful.

Make a copy on sites specifically for archiving

Archiving posts using reblogs is great and all, but I think it's much better to make a copy of them on actual archiving websites, such as Wayback Machine and Archive Today (for Archive Today specifically, there are a bunch of different urls, such as archive.ph, archive.is, archive.li, etc. but don't be confused, as far as I'm aware, they are all the same site).

Tumblr blogs can and do get deleted (not to mention your information shouldn't be stuck with one social media company, if they ever go down you don't want your queer terms/history disappearing with it), so I really think it's much more reliable to make your own copies.

On Wayback Machine vs Archive Today, they both have their benefits and downsides. Mainly Wayback doesn't archive images, only links to them, so in the case the original source gets the deleted, the images will be gone too. Archive Today does archive images, but it kind of just.. exists. Unlike Wayback, which is an actual non profit organization in California. So I'm slightly concerned about the long term stability.

I think it's best to just archive it on both sites, in addition to saving the original link + reblogs, perhaps even a self made copy + offline copy if you are really concerned. (If you do go the last route, please chose a common, open, file format. Don't use a app/service that doesn't let you easily export everything to something like a .txt file, or uses some odd propriety format that isn't easily compatible/viewable in other programs.)

Enable the website version of your blog, don't only use @ version

If you post flags/terms on Tumblr, please enable the exampleusername.tumblr.com version of your blog, instead of only using the @ exampleusername version.

E.g. @ryanyflags is the @ version of my blog, and ryanyflags.tumblr.com is the website version.

The problem is the @ / tumblr view version isn't compatible with archiving sites. When trying to archive posts in Tumblr view, Archive Today would get stuck trying to download the website, and both would end up with "please login to view" and the actual post isn't saved. I have been able to get around it by reblogging to my blog, which has a website version, and archiving that instead. But I think it would be better to be able to archive the post on the original blog.

You can activate it by enabling "custom theme" in your blog's settings. You don't even have to actually customise the appearance, it only matters that the website exists. (Image of the settings below)

Example of a post in "tumblr view" as I call it, and "website view".

Don't change your username when you stop using a blog

For example, when deciding to not use/post to a blog anymore (which is perfectly understandable), some will change their username from "example-name" to "example-name-archive", or "-inactive", and other such variations.

All the un-archived links to all that blog's posts break. And it messes anything linking to it in general, I'd say.

Unless you want to delete any references(links) to your posts, or make it harder for people to find your archived content, just don't do this. I personally don't understand why changing the title of a blog to something like "inactive" wouldn't be sufficient, or what the point of it is. But it's up to other people to do what they want.

(I wouldn't mind if someone just wanted to change their username, I just don't get appending inactive to it.)

Use the archiving sites to save content under "read more"

This is an issue that has been brought to my attention before. When the original post gets deleted, the content under "read more" (or "under the cut") of the reblog disappears.

I've tested it out myself using Archive Today and Wayback, see here and here. It's just some text with a read more in the middle.

If you check, the original post has been deleted, actually, the whole testing blog is gone. But the archives have kept the content under read more.

So instead of copy and pasting read-more content in reblogs, I think just using Archive Today and Wayback is way easier.

(Also, I just realised I didn't test this out with Tumblr view, though with the above issues I'm not sure it would have worked at all. If anyone want to test it out themselves, well it's free.)

People say things on the internet are forever, and maybe some viral things are, but I don't think that's really the case. Cool stuff can disappear all the time, and relying on some companies just doesn't seem reliable to me. Best make copies on separate archiving sites, and make your own offline ones.

My focus is really just on flags. I have a whole file folder filled with pngs of all sorts of flags (I think 4000+ ?). I sort them however I want, I can look at them on any device, regardless of operating system, I can make as many copies as I want and transfer them to new devices, I can easily use them in any program if I want (like to reference to make other flags). It's great. I don't have to worry about any individual or company deleting it or anything of that sort. It's just my own copy. For everyone else that cares about terms, I imagine saving the pngs and definitions in markdown files would work well enough.

This is nothing but my opinion at this point, but I really think making your own copies (whether offline or on archiving sites) of stuff on the internet is the way to go.

#pride #lgbt #mogai #mogai archive

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literallyjustchi · 5 months

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Akademiya Chronicles

Chapter 1

Hi! My name is Chi, and I am a seasoned writer. :3 I've written a full novel, 20 chapters, and 44k+ words. I'm here to give you quality writing (fanfics and not) that you don't often see here on Tumblr... without all the grammatical errors and simple typos. I hope you enjoy my first chapter ever posted *here!*

tumblr keeps messing up my formatting and IDK WHY, SEND HELP!!!!!

(MC is female, and characters may or may not be OOC. I tried to keep them as in character as I could.)

______________________________________________________________

Kaveh burst through the Akademiya’s library doors dramatically and collapsed at the nearest table, which coincidentally happened to be mine. My fellow classmates gave him a dirty look but went along with their work, most likely used to–or tired of–Kaveh’s antics.

As for me, I was too busy studying for one of the many upcoming exams. It annoyed me how Alhaitham was at the top of the class without studying or trying, and I wanted to be better than him. I knew I was smarter… I just had to put in the work. Ultimately, it would all pay off, and I would get bragging rights.

Kaveh groaned. “I should just drop out. This whole Kshahrewar thing is hard.”

I rolled my eyes, flipping a page in my book. “Keep going. You’ve already spent so much money getting where you are.”

“Easy for you to say, miss perfect grades. At least you aren’t as dreadful as Alhaitham.”

“Please stop enunciating your words. It’s very annoying.”

He sighed. “I mean, how can someone be as ignorant and… dumb as him? I never knew someone could be as dense and arrogant as him until I met him!”

“Keep your voice down. We’re in a library.” Alhaitham was anything but dumb, but I didn’t feel like arguing.

Kaveh moped. “Nobody understands my woes.”

“I understand, Kaveh.” I just don’t care. Ouch. Is that a little harsh? I closed my book with a defeated sigh. “You wanna go get something to eat for lunch?”

“Together?” He gasped, earning another sharp glare from the others. “Of course! You’re paying, though. Right?”

I put my book into my tote bag and stood up. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

______________________________________________________________

To my luck, Cyno and Tighnari were both at Puspa Café, with Cyno animatedly over-explaining the inner workings of Genius Invokation TCG even though Tighnari already knew all the nitty-gritty details.

Kaveh beamed. “Look, Cy and Ti are here! Let’s go talk to them.”

“I think I’ll pass.” If Alhaitham had one thing right, it would be that socializing was draining. I already finished my quota with the few words I exchanged with Kaveh.

Kaveh linked his arm with mine and dragged me to their table in the far corner next to a window, the sunlight filtering through. “Too bad. You need to get out more–have fun, y’know? Don’t want you to end up like Alhaitham, all moody and gloomy.”

Tighnari set down one of his cards and waved to us. “Look who decided to show up. My second favorite pair.”

“Who’s your first?” Kaveh asked.

Tighnari lowered his voice, “Cyno and Sethos, but you can’t tell them,” he said teasingly.

Cyno grimaced. “Gross. Sethos.”

I stifled a laugh. Cyno, though he’d never admit it, even if you put a musket to his head, had a soft spot for Sethos. It was mildly adorable.

Kaveh plopped on the bench, sitting next to Cyno. I, more gracefully and less rambunctiously, sat next to Tignhari with a small nod of acknowledgment.

Cyno shoved a stack of cards at Kaveh. “You’re playing. Here’s your deck. You know how to play?”

Kaveh took the deck and examined it. “Uh, sorta.”

“Good. Tighnari isn’t that good, so I hope you’re better.”

Tighnari rolled his eyes and slid an iced coffee my way. “I had a feeling you were coming.”

I took the coffee into my hands. I almost always came to the café to de-stress or as a break from my never-ending studies, so it was nice that Tighnari remembered, even though he didn’t often come to this side of Sumeru. Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea to agree to come with Kaveh.

The boys played a few rounds of TCG, with Kaveh losing to both of them. Tighnari had no idea what he was doing, but he was doing it better than Kaveh. It was funny to watch Cyno oneshot all of Kaveh’s active characters in one fell swoop, and Tighnari accidentally wiping out Kaveh’s supports and draining him of dice.

Tighnari leaned over to me and whispered while the others were too focused on their game to pay attention, “Don’t make this obvious, but Alhaitham just walked in.”

I nonchalantly looked toward the direction of the entrance. There he was, in all his glory. And sweat? Archons, save me.

It got much, much worse because Sethos was with him. Of course, Sethos was with him. He just had to be. This day couldn’t possibly get any better.

I winced, whispering back, “You didn’t tell him you and Cyno were here?”

“I didn’t know Kaveh was coming. Just you,” he replied.

“Well, what do we do?” “Reap what we sow, I guess. What is there to even do?”

“Prepare your shield of indifference and act like you saw or heard nothing.”

“Acting oblivious has never worked…”

“Today it will. Hopefully. Just act normal.”

Sethos was the first to spot us, his gigantic, shining smile vanishing like a smoldered flame once he saw Cyno. I averted my gaze and pretended I saw nothing.

My plan didn’t work because he and Alhaitham immediately made his way towards our table. Cyno and Sethos’s eyes locked in a fierce gaze, and I could’ve sworn that the pair wouldn’t pounce at each other like rishboland tigers if it weren’t for the fact that they had a crowd. I didn’t dare to look at Alhaitham, but I could see Kaveh scowl from the corner of my eye as I looked down at my lap.

After a long, awkward pause of silence, Tighnari spoke, “Hey, guys. Would you like to join us?” Kaveh and Cyno both muttered a “no,” while Alhaitham and Sethos said “sure.” It was almost comedic.

Sadly, Alhaitham was a freaking sadist because he sat next to me, leaving the only spot left for Sethos with Cyno and Kaveh. There was not a single doubt in my mind that he did that on purpose. The benches were supposed to only seat two people, but they could take three. It was a little cramped as Alhaitham’s thigh brushed against mine, and his hand would’ve done the same if it wasn’t wrapped around my coffee cup.

Definitely on purpose. And I hated that he pretended like nothing was happening.

Cyno pushed a deck into Sethos’s hands. “Join us.”

Sethos took the deck, looking at it like a challenge. Because it was.

Then, Cyno gave another to Alhaitham. “You can join, too, if you want. I think you’re a good player.”

Yeah, he was a good player.

Alhaitham took the deck. “Thanks. I’ll play.”

Cyno looked at me. I shook my head, and he shrugged. “You play really well, too. You could probably beat Al if you tried.”

I narrowed my eyes. He was definitely trying to egg me on, and I wasn’t going to take the bait. It was obvious bait–only an idiot would fall for it.

Alhaitham scoffed. “She couldn’t beat me if she tried.”

I snatched the spare deck from Cyno’s hands. “I’m in.”

Tighnari shook his head. “Here we go again…”

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inuhalfdemon · 4 months

Text

Fanart posted in fic belongs to:

@honestlynotgonnalie (Tumblr)

@honestlygonalie (X/Twitter)

Please stop by and give the artist some love!!!

Everyone was gathered into the lobby of the Hazbin Hotel.

Charlie and Vaggie had set out two large, long tables with some chairs for the residents to use; stacks of paper and cups filled with crayons, pencils and pens all placed throughout. Lucifer was already happily chatting with the two women when Alastor strolled through the door and into the room; a giggling Niffty perched atop his head.

“First off, I want to thank each and every one of you for all of the hard work you’ve been doing to get things ready for…well, for the upcoming extermination day.” Charlie flinched once she said it but then pressed forward. “There’s a lot more to do but I thought it might also be really important to work on some solid team building! You all know each other a little, of course. What I want you to do today is: draw or write something about another person that you find most significant or valuable in them as an individual; what about that person is special to you? I also think it best if we split up into assigned pairs: Vaggie and Cherri can be one…Angel and Husk, Sir Pentious and Niffty; and then Alastor and my dad!”

The groups started forming; Vaggie and Cherri bumped fists while Angel and Husk exchanged smiles. Niffty’s grin widened; showing a row of razor sharp teeth before she excitedly leapt to Alastor’s shoulder, darting down and joining Sir Pentious.

Of course… Lucifer thought to himself, dryly.

Lucifer sighed; moodily going to sit down in a seat at one of the tables. Setting his hat and jacket down, he slipped a piece of paper from one of the stacks, staring at the blank surface.

Vaggie watched him go; then saying something to Cherri, she moved over to Charlie.

“Hey, hun. Can I talk to you for a second?” After pulling Charlie to the side she asked, “Are you sure this is such a good idea?” She pointedly looked to the table where Lucifer was seated.

As they were talking, Alastor smoothly drifted into shadow; slipping down into the floor and lifting up again to rise and materialize at the other side of the table; across from Lucifer. Using one claw; Alastor dragged the blank piece of paper over to him; reaching for a crayon with his free hand. He toppled the cup; ignoring the mess of scattered pens and pencils – he concentrated on his scribbling.

“I mean, we talked about this, Vaggie, and you agreed with me that we should try make sure everyone was involved in the activity.”

“Yes, but I didn’t realize your dad would be coming…” Vaggie told her with concern “Alastor and your dad? They barely stand each other as it is… There’s other pairings we could make.”

Lucifer leaned on one elbow, staring boredly off into space. Curious, he glanced down at what Al was working on but Alastor slid his hand over the doodle; preventing Lucifer from seeing it. Rolling his eyes; he turned away.

Fanart by @honestlynotgonnalie

“I know that Vaggie but…in a few weeks they are going to be fighting with each other…it’s kind of important that they learn to get along. Besides, they’ve been strategizing formational plans together...how much could they really dislike each other?”

Finished with his doodling; Alastor set his crayon down and flipped the page up. Smiling widely with eyes pressed closed; he proudly presented his piece to Lucifer:

Alastor had doodled a goofy looking caricature of Lucifer: depicting Lucifer with a rather large head and a much smaller body. Drawn beside the doodle made was a small arrow – pointing to the messy sketch of Lucifer from the words, scrawled beneath, that read: “WIFELESS”.

Fanart by @honestlynotgonnalie

“I don’t know…maybe strategizing is all the bonding they need.” Vaggie suggested.

Turning his head; Lucifer saw the drawing; taking in its meaning. Without hesitating he glared at Alastor and flipped him the bird. Alastor’s smiled widened; peeking a look at the King’s response narrowly from his left eye.

Fanart by @honestlynotgonnalie

“It’s…important to me that they learn to work it out.” Charlie confessed to Vaggie. “I honestly think they could really get along if they gave each other a chance.”

Vaggie sighed. “You know your dad better than anyone. As for Alastor…” Vaggie leaned past Charlie; watching as Alastor quickly set his drawing down; adding to it with the crayon and flipping it back up for Lucifer to see. He displayed the exact same doodle; only now it had a middle finger added to one of the stick-ish hands. “Well, nobody knows Alastor. Let’s try it your way. See what happens.” Vaggie gave in.

Vaggie went back to where Cherri was and the group activity proceeded.

Later, when it came to present their projects:

“Uh, what am I loo-, oh fuck.” Vaggie.

“Ah, fucking shit!” Cherri – happily laughing.

“Oh, dear…” Sir Pentious, lifting Niffty and covering her eye.

“Whoa…” Angel – eyes wide and a large smile stretching across his face.

Husk stepped away; carefully restraining any response he had to the intricate sketch that Lucifer had made.

Charlie squeezed in beside everyone, wondering what all the fuss was about.

“Wha-“ Charlie gasped and then hissed; “DAD!!!”

Lucifer and Alastor were standing apart from the group. Lucifer was standing with his back straight – chest out, and a wide toothy smile across his beaming face, clearly proud of himself. Alastor stood bent, leering very closely to his face…a dangerously dark look to his insane and smiling face, one eyelid very visibly twitching.

Lucifer had sketched a remarkable rendition to Swiss artist Henry Fuseli’s oil painting: The Nightmare. Only it was Alastor who was depicted lying across the bed in a suggestive manner rather than a woman; his tentacles curled and rising around him in place of the typically symbolic incubus and horse. One tentacle held what looked to be his staff – the end of it aimed and placed directly into a rather obscene bodily location.

Lucifer had titled the intricate sketch: The Dildo

The Nightmare:

Excerpt from my "No One Can Know..." radioapple fanfic.

Taglist: @helluva-simper

28 notes · View notes

breakfast-cereal · 2 years

Text

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?

#horizon forbidden west #horizon fw #kotallo #kotallo x reader

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completely-normal-about-trolls · 10 months

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Poppy's Secret Stash

A/N: I never wrote on tumblr before, so I don't know how this works or how formatting works. Also this was written on computer so I don't know if that changes any formatting.

@vacayisland

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Poppy smiled and giggled to herself, pulling out a brand new scrapbook and her supplies. She set out all her fabric, colorful paper, some glitter, and some popcorn to snack on, before getting to work.

In her younger years, back when she was simply Princess Poppy, she LOVED to make stories with her friends about bands and singers they liked, like Violet Wonder, H.E.A.R.T, No Map, and BroZone - especially Brozone - to name a few. They would sit up, late at night, giggling and scrapbooking the stories to their hearts content, and then sharing their stories with the other trolls their age. Before DJ Suki was Dj Suki, she was MAP-LESS. Everyone talked about her scrapbooks, which ranged from midnight getaways from abusive parents to be with Roman Bass, lead singer of No Map, to being being the sixth hidden member of H.E.A.R.T and dating ALL FIVE MEMBERS! Even to being the secret girlfriend of John Dory, leader of BroZone! Poppy was always jealous in awe of her friend's talent, and happy sad that she ended up leaving behind the scrapbooks in exchange for turntables.

Poppy, also known as POPSTAR_X3, was famous for one series as well. She had authored a self insert scrapbook, about her being the "pet" of the BroZone brothers, in a universe where crime ran rampant. The boys, known as the Dory Brothers in her books, kept her safe from all harm as long as she kept them happy. The books were fairly short, about ten chapters each, but she had written about.... Well, she lost track after 15.

See, while most of her friends fell out of the fictional scrapbooking, she would always find time to make these stories about her and her favorite bands. She had an entire bookshelf full to them, that she had successfully hidden away from Branch. If Branch even found one of her books, she'd probably die from embarrassment. Especially since he was one of the people she wrote most about.

Poppy's head jerked up from the page, her eyes wide as she heard some faint voices.

"Are you sure you can just barge in?" That sounded like JD.

"Yeah, Poppy said she was hanging out with Satin and Chenille today. I just need to grab a couple of things." Oh God, that was Branch.

"Well hurry up! I gotta piss so freaking bad!"

"Just go in the bushes!"

Poppy's heart started to beat at a hundred miles a minute as she scrambled to put her supplies away. The lock clicked, the doorknob turned, and Poppy frantically shoved her supplies in a nearby drawer just as-

"Poppy? What are you doing?" Branch asked with a little smile, surprised to see her in her own home. He was supposed to be hanging with his bros right now, and he was, as evidence by the four head peeking through the door.

"Branch! I, uh... Satin and Chenille had to cancel for some, uh, fashion emergency!" She lied with a giggle. "So I just, you know... Decided to have a me day! How are you? How ya doing? How ya been?" She said awkwardly, trying to hide the mess popping out of the drawer. "I'm not hiding anything. What- What- Why did you...come in?"

"I needed to grab my ESK," He said, grabbing a box that said "Emergency Survival Kit". "Are you ok, Poppy?"

"Yeah no I'm fine! Totally fine! Completely fine!" She forced a smile and some giggles before stopping abruptly. "Please leave."

Branch just gave her a weird look before noticing the open book. The one thing she had forgotten to hide. "Oh, I didn't know you write-"

"I don't!" Poppy said, grabbing the book and holding it to her chest. "I'm holding this for a friend!"

Bruce furrowed his brows and tilted his head. "The Dory's Pet-"

Poppy blushed heavily and tossed the book out an open window. She hadn't realized the title was still visible.

"Poppy," Branch said calmly as he closed the distance. "What going on? You know I want judge you." He held her hands and met her nervous eyes. "You can be honest."

Poppy bite her lip and looked at the ground. "I... I write fanfiction..."

"What's that?" The brothers had made their way in the pod now, all staring at Poppy as if she had grown two heads.

"It..." Poppy started and sighed. She pulled away from Branch and grabbed some of her scrapbooks, handing one to him and his brothers to look at. "It's something my friends and I did when we were younger. We would make up stories about ourselves being friends or being in relationships with band members. Sometimes we would make the main character ambiguous so that the reader could be the love interest... I know it's weird, especially now, but... I like it. It's kind of a guilty pleasure..." She smiled gently at the book in her hands, titled "Into the Brozone", which was about Penelope becoming the sixth and only female member of Brozone. Penelope was a fictional version of Poppy, one where she was just an average troll. No royal duties, no kingdom to worry about. Just a troll who wanted to sing and hug and dance (and be Clay's girlfriend.)

"Well..." Floyd said as he thumbed through the pages. "It's well written. And since you're writing about real trolls, then I don't think there's anything wrong as long they're ok with it." He smiled and handed the scrapbook back. "But please, don't write me as straight ever again."

Poppy smiled brightly. "Of course." She took the book back and looked over at Branch. Her heart started to beat faster. She was so nervous about what he would think. I mean, she wrote about falling in love with him and his brothers (among other singers) for years, even if she didn't realize it. There has to be something creepy about that, right?

"Floyd's right," Branch said with a smile. "This is pretty well written."

"Which one is that?" Poppy asked, peeking over his shoulder.

Branch flipped over the book and looked at the cover. "To Hook a Star," he said, going back to where he was. "Apparently, it's about you trying to win my heart." He smiled and handed the book back to her. "We all have our quirks, Poppy. If you like doing this, then do it. Have fun. You should probably ask my brothers or your friends before you write about them."

"You don't think it's weird?" Poppy asked.

"Oh no, it's definitely weird. But as long as you're happy, and no one gets hurt from it, then I think you should keep writing." Branch smiled and cupped her cheek. "Just write about me a little more, ok?"

Poppy chuckled softly. "Of course..." She looked over at the Bros, all looking at the cover of one book. JD looked confused, Bruce looked very concerned, Clay look terrified, and Floyd looked like he was about throw up.

"What?" Poppy asked nervously. "Which one is that?"

They all looked up at her, still looking confused and concerned. JD flipped the cover around so she could see it, before yelling in unison with his brothers. "SOLD TO BROZONE?!?!"

#trolls #trolls band together #trolls brozone

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stvrchaser · 2 years

Note

Oh my god, finally someone writing for Lockwood and co!! Hi!!!

Could I please request for a scenario with George and a very bold reader? Like, someone who isn't afraid to show their affections and is quite eccentric (like giving him flowers, writing notes for him, buying him things, being the first to protect him during a mission, etc and just being very open about liking him romantically). Angst to fluff, perhaps? Thank you :D

start anew

( note ) : not me prioritizing this prompt over like five others… anyway, i just love george so much and the second i read this request i had such a vivid scene in my mind i HAD to write it down. it ended up being wayyy longer than expected, but it really just felt like a character study and i was so immersed in writing that i physically couldn’t even stop.

and since i KNOW tumblr is gonna mess up the format since it’s such a long fic, i’ve decided to attach the link instead. i hope you guys don’t mind!

( pairing ) : george karim x gn!reader

( warnings ) : angst, low self-esteem, miscommunication

p.s. i know that seems like a lot but, don’t worry, it’s resolved. this has a happy ending, folks!!

( words ) : 4500 (okay so i went overboard. sue me)

☆࿐

anyway, if anyone wants to be tagged in any of my future lockwood & co. stuff (because there will definitely be more) feel free to tell me!!

#lockwood & co #george karim #george karim x reader #netflix #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle

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seiwas · 1 month

Note

hi sel! i was wondering if you had any tips or tricks or advice for making fic banners and dividers? yours are always so cohesive! ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

hi nonie! omg i'm so flattered you asked me this 🥺 i’m happy you like them!! admittedly, i am a bit particular about the aesthetics of my fics, but don't really expect anyone to notice 😭

i am by no means a designer! but i'll share a few of the things that have worked for me 🥺 under the cut will be what i do for sizing, editing, and inspo!

SIZING (w x h dimensions, 300 dpi)

› banners: 1280 x 320 for my thicker banners. 1280 x 249 for my thinner ones. i've been preferring the thicker ones lately just because i prefer how it looks on the post compared to my thinner ones (more balanced and stuff!)

› dividers: 1280 x any size you want or 500 x 5. i have both jpg (thinner) and png (thicker) versions for my dividers, mainly because my jpg ones stopped working after a while* 😭 i use the png ones more now because the actual image itself is also bigger in height; there are transparent spaces above the bar itself that allow more control over the space your divider will have between text (please let me know if this is confusing! i'm not sure if i'm explaining it well).

*tumblr can be really selective with the media it allows on the feed and tags, and for some reason, some dividers have been causing that problem 😭 i still haven't figured out what characteristics/factors exactly cause it, but i suspect it might be a combination of size + colours. i usually have to do test posts to make sure it appears!

i'm attaching some screenshots below for reference!

EDITING

› software: photoshop, figma. though i know there are others you can use (e.g., photopea, canva, picsart, etc.)! i just use these because i'm more accustomed to them 🥹

› process:

find a manga panel i like and clean it up (background removers can usually do the trick)

find colours i like and use it as the base for the background

*if using photoshop/figma/photopea: set the manga panel layer as 'multiply'

add the text

*for dividers: i usually just grab from the background of the banner (either i crop a portion of it or colour a long, thin rectangle the same colour)

attaching what my editing board looks like on figma! (i could be more organised but i usually do these things in such a rush i could never be bothered 😭)

› things i consider

for general fic banners: i like to keep a consistent format, which is: character panel + name + identifiable colour because they're the details that i'd like to inform people of first when they stumble upon my post! (some people will put fic titles too, which i don't do bc i can't be bothered to mess with the spacing 😭)

*keeping a consistent format also makes it easier to duplicate elements of your banners into other banners you'll be making! ex. if i'm writing 2 different gojo fics and decide to change what manga panel to use, at least i can always duplicate certain elements (i.e., name text) and find colours along a similar saturation/hue! it makes things a lot quicker and easier.

for event fic banners: i usually pattern it after the event banner itself! so for example, the fics under my 'how to be your loverboy' collab share similar elements (i.e., the wavy edge) to the main event banner. sometimes i use the same colours too (i.e., in's and out's event).

*on dividers not showing up on the dash: i notice it a lot more with light-coloured banners (some neutrals) and super thin ones. to find a way around this, i either change the colour and/or the size OR i'll find a photo that shares the colours i want and crop it to the size that i want (for some reason, it works this way 😭)

INSPO

i usually browse through pinterest for inspo on digital design stuff! i learned a bit of UX/UI so there's also a part of me that's influenced by its trends.

lately, i've been really into gradients! because it's a fun and easy way to make things look clean but not boring, and i think it can evoke the ~vibe of the fic based off the colours you end up choosing!

when i can't think of anything and want to come up with the banner quickly, i'll usually choose a photo/aesthetic i associate with the fic and blur the image until all you see are kind of blobs of colours. they're similar to gradients but have more shapes and require less of your brain power 😭 (i.e., by your passenger seat, and there's something...)

... and that's it!

sorry for this really lengthy post, i hope it's helpful nonie 🥹 let me know if you have any other questions/if anything is unclear!

#sorry it took me a while to answer!! i was gathering what to say 🥹#i hope this was helpful!#ask #rep #anon #reference

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redstringraven · 2 months

Note

11 and 12

*crawls back over here after work week* >:J!!! thank you!!

(also, please excuse that this ask is visually a bit more of a mess. apparently i wrote too much for tumblr to be chill with my usual formatting. apologies. e-e;;; maybe it'll let me format it after the fact. it did not)

TMNT's 40th anniversary ask game!

11.) which version of raphael is your favorite?

like i said in the tags for the meme, it's obvious/a given that my favorite version for all the turtles is gonna be the 2003 one. but since i also said i won't stop/discourage y'all from asking anyway AND said i don't have a favorite out of the boys, i'll use this as an excuse to babble incoherently about some of the reasons i love them. it's not uncommon that i enjoy hot-headed characters. this could partly be because enneagram-wise i'm a 9, and we're the 'odd one out' when it comes to the anger/gut triad (i kind of touched on this concept in my enneagram series; apologies). so, while i often smother my own temper, i still feel it under the surface. i get being angry. anger is also often a secondary emotion--it's an emotion that comes up because you're attempting to disguise something else; "anger is easier" as some quotes may say. i find it interesting to squint and find out why we're 'angry'. what's actually going on? when it comes to '03 raph, i don't think his anger stems from any ONE thing, i think it's more a bundle and that's part of the reason it's so easily set off. a significant piece of it is probably due to things i discussed in his enneagram post: learning to recognize the world is cruel/uncaring and trying to find ways for him--and the few people he cares about--to survive. raph is also a very intense person. anger is an intense emotion. it makes sense that he'd find comfort turning to it when he otherwise can't identify or articulate what he's really feeling. and this isn't to say he's not emotionally intelligent (far from it), i just think he struggles to slow his head and heart down to put names and words to everything flooding him--and WHEN he struggles, he gets frustrated and impatient with himself, which just makes him struggle more. and i appreciate the handful of examples we get that in-series where he can't quite verbalize it, but you can still feel and see it. i think raph likes to take care of people. his brothers, master splinter, april, casey, tyler, mrs. morrison, angel--whether they're someone who he loves, or someone who can't fend for themselves, or both, he just seems to instinctually take people beneath his wing. he's still learning that vulnerability doesn't equate to weakness (you can't show weakness in a world that rejects you), and he's also still learning to harness and manage all those emotions when they turn to anger--steer them to something more productive and beneficial instead. because anger, itself, isn't inherently bad. it's what you do with it. this is something he struggles with at the beginning of the series but seems to get a better grasp of as the seasons pass. i love raph as a hot-headed character who's a marshmallow inside not because of the trope itself, but because it feels very real to me given the circumstances he grew up under, lives under, and how he views the world and how intensely he loves. he's not just there to be "the angry one" so we have that archetype on the team, there're reasons. it's both a strength and a weakness of his. one he's aware of and carries shame for. my man also has an excellent sense of humor; right up my alley. i love him very much but i've already talked a lot and should probably stop here. … also, he hates bugs and got fucking swallowed by one and proceeded to chest-burster his way out of it, like. we love to see a short-king winning and getting to reference a movie he probably loved in the process. talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show-stopping, spectacular, never the same; yee-frickin'-haw indeed, sir.

12.) which version of donatello is your favorite?

copy/paste that first paragraph from the above answer here.

hilariously, like how i seem to have a pattern of enjoying hot-headed characters, i also feel like i have a pattern of loving the more quiet and compassionate ones. this also probably plays into my 9 on the enneagram, since 9s tend to be peacemakers and our place in the web allows us to better see the perspectives of others. i, also, understand the struggle that comes with not wanting to 'rock the boat' and kind of keep those i'm surrounded by happy and chill and secure. but don's also SMART. and i've been a nancy drew reading/game playing bitch since i could read. puzzle-solving… mysteries… cleverness… GIMMIE THAT SHIT.

don was my favorite as a kid, and i think that came both from the fact he was 'the purple one' (joking that was a bias was half of a joke; shut up i was like thirteen) and because he was resourceful, clever, and observant. i loved his kindness, i loved how when things seemed dire he'd usually be the one with an idea, and i probably saw a lot of myself in him whether it be in playing mediator between my siblings, or in knowing a lot of seemingly Random Shit™ about a lot of Useless Things™, or in the simple fact that he often wanted to be left alone to do the thing(s) he was really passionate about. i got a lot of flack for all the time i spent on the computer as a kid. didn't matter if i was writing or drawing or reading about topics i wanted to learn more about--you know, productive/creative/thoughtful activities--i was constantly badgered that i was addicted to it and didn't spend enough time with my family. i guess any moment that don having a weird interest in something "paid off" was validating to me in a way? as well as him not being the strongest fighter, but still being valuable in the team unit (i'm an artist who grew up in a family of athletes). i also appreciated and admired that despite his kindness, he wasn't a doormat. definitely a do-no-harm-but-take-no-shit kind of guy, and lord knows teen!hannah needed to learn to stand up for herself better. so, yeah. i think as a kid i saw a lot of myself in don. i appreciated him for existing in that way.

all that obviously still stands as an adult, the 'favoritism' has just faded away as i've grown to understand and adore the other three more.

don's pretty outstanding, man. while he's usually the route of the pacifist, it's evident that he has a clear line in the sand, and once you've crossed that line… you're gonna realize that when you fuck around, you find out. and you're gonna find out very quickly.

he'll take what little he has around him to scrap together a breathing apparatus for a lost and brain-damaged triceraton (even though the triceraton was previously an enemy), he'll spend months trying to find a cure for a bunch of strangers he barely knows, he's able to empathize with a bunch of child-like nanobots… but at the same time, he'll also blast you with your own arm-canon, drill you into a pile of mulch, trick you into going to a hornet dimension, and verbally assassinate your dignity for all that it's worth.

i love that so much of him IS grounded in creation. making things. learning and understanding. and that kindness is often one of his main driving points. i just wanna take his shoulders and shake him sometimes. in the most loving, motherly and enthusiastic of ways.

…i also firmly maintain that he's physically the strongest out of the brothers. that detail, combined with him being the least competitive out of the four, really amuses me. because i like to think that when it comes to arm wrestling, someone might challenge don because they think nerd = weak. and don's initially not interested in humoring the challenge, but his brothers are behind him like ":)))c no. no, donnie you should do it. it'll be fun!" because they all know. and don's finally just like

… e_e … fine.

and proceeds to slam the other person's arm down before they even know they've lost. his brothers stand there with gremlin smirks, impish grins, snickering, mischievous boyish giggling, and don wanders off unceremoniously to get back to a project. he's got a lot to do today but this was a nice break.

#tmnt 2003 #tmnt raphael #tmnt donatello #;letters #;meme: tmnt's 40th anniversary ask game #;hannah's meta #;donatello #;raphael #[ YES it's letting me save again so i guess it was the formatting that was making tumblr cranky ]#[ anywho THANK YOU SO MUCH =u= love an excuse to babble about the boys ]#[ love the boys keep the bois... i will have u bois ]#[ edit: LMAO yeah tumblr really doesn't want me formatting this thing xDDD ]#[ OH WELL. i tried. ]

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magicalrocketships · 2 months

Note

not me discovering this fine evening that you wrote other parts of Won’t Get To Space here on tumblr 0.o that fic is like *my fic*: i read it probably once a month, i like it that much (plus - me and liam may have something in common and this fic doesn't make me feel pathetic like i sometimes feel - even if i'm in my 30s) .. so, thanks to that anon for talking about this fic and for you to link the other snippets: you just made the (what was supposed to be an early) evening for an European <3 if you ever want to share anything else in that universe, please do <3 i wish you an amazing day / night and thank you *very much* for creating this AU

oh, thank you! I'm so glad <3 It's so lovely to hear that it resonated with you.

I went looking for the sequel file in the depths of my dropbox, it has a last modified date of 2015, it was created in 2013, I don't have the original program I wrote it in anymore so I don't know if any of the formatting is messed up as I really haven't looked it in years, but here's the contents of the file. There's no ending and it's just bits and pieces, but please know that of course they end up happily, and I don't think I ever posted it in its entirety here.

I hope you see this, anon!

won't get to space because I haven't got a rocket part 2 (harry/liam/louis)

(first part here)

Like the sky is blue (all the things that stop you dreaming)

Come to London this weekend, we miss you xx

Liam grins down at his phone. He's on his break, eating two ham salad sandwiches and a bag of cheese and onion crisps in the back of the garage, flicking through The Mirror.

Your both in the paperrrrrrrrr, he texts, once he hits the 3am pages. Did u rlly fall out of a clubbb??????

Shameless lies !!! Louis texts back. we stumbled gracefully !!!!

His phone beeps with a message from Harry. I fell out of the cab not the club. lou just fell over me.

Liam laughs at that. What u uptooo?

Hanging around the record company !! Meetings . Boring !! Louis this time. They must be together, and reading each other's texts. Liam sort of likes the idea of them both peering down at the same phone, together.

Maybe touching all the way down one side.

He really likes thinking about them touching.

Gud luck xxxxx Liam hasn't got long left of his lunch. Mums berthdaaay this fri so cant come down :( sozzzzzzz :(

He has to get back to work anyway, so he stuffs his phone into his pocket before the reply arrives, and heads back across the garage to get on with Mrs Holloway's oil change.

~*~

Liam spends Friday night in Garfunkel's with his mum and his dad and his sisters, eating dinner in honour of his mum's birthday. He orders the chicken even though he normally gets the scampi, just like his dad, but it's nice to spend time with his parents and his sisters and just eat together.

Nicola tries not to talk about her wedding, but it's hard, since there's such a lot to organise, and everyone wants it to be great. His mum has been fretting about what to wear since Nicola first came home with her engagement ring, and she's pushing Nicola to try and find out what Graham's mum's wearing so that they don't clash.

Liam's dad makes the same grimace of 'these Payne women, what are we supposed to do with them' that he's been making at Liam since he realised they could have a secret club of two, and Liam makes the same face of agreement he's been making since he realised he could join in.

"Stop it, you two," his mum says, flicking Liam in the arm with her serviette. "It might not matter to you if we both show up in salmon pink from Debenhams, but it'll be embarrassing for our Nicola. And me."

"I know," Liam says. "What if I showed up in salmon pink from Debenhams too, it'd be terrible. I might cry."

"Liam," his mum says reprovingly, but Nicola smacks him in the arm.

"You'll be dressed like all the other ushers," she says, and Liam is very quickly reminded that Nicola is fast losing her sense of humour when it comes to her big day.

"I was only joking."

Nicola rolls her eyes at him. "I'm turning into a proper little madam," she says. "I know, you'll be all calling me Bridezilla the moment my back's turned."

"Of course we won't," his mum says. She leans over and pats her on the hand as the waiter comes over with their food. "It'll be perfect."

It takes a couple of minutes for everything to get sorted, and his dad's already tucking into his scampi and chips before Nicola turns her attention to Liam, and his Peri Peri chicken. "Have you got your eye on anyone, our kid? Anyone you might want to bring to the wedding?"

Liam immediately thinks about Louis and Harry, Louis sprawled out naked on his bed, laughing, and Harry bringing them both cups of tea. He wants to bring them, but firstly, there's no point banking on a future where they're concerned, and secondly, how could he ever explain that he's bringing two boys to his big sister's wedding? He's not even sure he could tell them he was bringing one boy to the wedding, let alone two.

"Ooh," Nicola says. "There is someone, isn't there? I can see it on your face."

"Is there?" Ruth asks.

Liam tries to school his face into something that won't give anything away. He rather suspects he fails. "Nah," he says. "Nothing that'll come to anything. Single pringle, that's me."

Ruth makes a sad face at him. "You'll find someone. You're brilliant, Liam."

Those people on OK Cupid who ever bothered messaging him back didn't think he was brilliant, and neither did all of Andy's friends. Nobody had, really, until Louis and Harry, and Liam was half convinced that they'd be off again given the slightest chance. Why would boys like that settle for a trainee mechanic from the midlands when they could have anyone in London town? It just didn't make sense. He fakes a smile for Ruth, and one for Nicola and his parents, and tries to turn their attention back to his mum and her birthday.

He's not sure it works.

~*~

His mum does a roast chicken on Sunday, and Liam rocks up at half eleven with a bunch of flowers for her, because it's her birthday weekend and she deserves flowers. He's in a good mood; Louis had rung him up at half past one in the morning to tell him that they missed him and trying to have sex without him there was rubbish and boring.

Liam hadn't believed that for a second, but he likes to be remembered, and Harry and Louis just keep on remembering him, like he isn't invisible, or see-through at the edges, but like he's real.

(talking about Nicola's wedding and asking Liam if he's bringing anyone, and Liam wanting to say yes but not being able to. Texting Louis and Harry from in front of the telly and his family thinking there's a girlfriend) Birthday weekend.

~*~

"What time do you finish work?" Louis asks, as soon as Liam picks up, and Liam’s so used to Louis and Harry constantly using each other’s phones that it doesn’t bother him that it’s Harry’s name that flashed up on his screen. It’s a picture of all three of them that comes with it, anyway, Harry in the middle with Louis on his back with his arm in the air, Liam holding the camera out and pressing in so that he’s in shot. It’s one of Liam’s favourite pictures.

"Half five, why?" Liam asks. He’s supposed to be seeing them at the weekend, but it’s only Thursday. They have half-arsed plans to go and see the new Captain America film, and Liam’s desperately trying to cover up his desire to see it sooner rather than later.

"We’re coming to pick you up," Louis says. "We’ve got plans for you."

"It’s Thursday, though," Liam says, puzzled. He has plans for tonight that involve putting a load of washing on and eating beans on toast in front of the telly. It’s the part of his life he tries to hide from Louis and Harry, who are surely only here for the exciting bits.

"We know," Louis says. "You’re not busy, are you?"

"Nope," Liam says, although he’ll have to figure out when to do the washing now, so he’ll have clean pants for work on Monday. He’s very much in love with Louis and Harry, but he does have a Monday to Friday job he has to work the two of them around, which they don’t.

"Brilliant," Louis says. "We’ll see you at half five. Love you."

"Right," Liam says, still puzzled, but Louis has already hung up.

Half five shows up, but Louis and Harry don’t. Liam sits outside the garage with his jacket zipped up, and passes his phone from hand to hand, waiting for them. He doesn’t want to ring in case they’re driving, so he sits outside and hopes that he hasn’t got the day wrong.

They don’t show up until ten to six, by which point Liam is already about ready to leave to go home. Harry pulls his Range Rover up in front of the garage though, parking it totally skewiff, and Louis is already tumbling out of the passenger door even as Liam is standing up to meet them.

"Hello," Louis says, bounding over and pushing Liam up against the wall. "Happy Captain America Day, Steve."

"What?" Liam says, but Louis is kissing him hello. Liam can’t quite bring himself to be bothered about who might see.

"Captain America Day," Harry says, carefully pushing Louis out of the way and kissing Liam gently. "Here, we got you a t-shirt in honour of the occasion."

Louis pulls open his denim jacket to display a t-shirt with Captain America’s shield right there in the centre. Harry is wearing one with a giant Avengers A in the middle. The one they’re holding out for Liam is royal blue, with a white star in the middle and red and white stripes at the bottom.

"What—"

"Suit up," Louis says. "Here, preferably. Where we can stare at how hot you are."

Liam swallows, and looks down at his t-shirt. “Why are you here?” he asks, because ninety-five per cent of the time, he has no idea why Louis and Harry even bother with him.

"Because Steve’s your favourite, and because you’re our favourite, and because we wanted to take our boyfriend out," Harry says. "We’ve got tickets for the eight o’clock showing, we’ve got a table at that burger place near that bowling alley that we went to first, and then we’re all going to go back to yours afterwards and let you talk about how hot Captain America is whilst we fuck you."

"That last part’s my favourite," Louis says, leaning in. "That was my idea, that bit. You can talk about how you’d like Steve to fuck you, if you like. Whilst we jerk you off. Make you come all over yourself."

"Oh," Liam says. Luckily he works on a nice, quiet road. It’s good, that, because he’s sporting a semi. "Right. That’s good, then."

"Brilliant," Harry says. "Now, are you going to change your top, or what? It’s been a whole week since we’ve seen you topless, and we’re getting withdrawal symptoms."

"All right," Liam says softly, and pulls open his jacket.

(weekend at Liam's)

~*~

MINI BREAK

Plan to go away for a mini break, rent a house for the bank holiday weekend – Frisbee and piggy in the middle on the beach, bacon sandwiches, watching dvds and fucking, joking about singing together, Liam thinks it's a silly joke, they're not joking.

"We should go away," Liam says, without really thinking about it. It's either late one night or early one morning, but his watch is too far away for him to check, and anyway, he doesn't care enough to move. It's dark outside and he's naked. Anything else is just details.

"We're away now," Harry points out, from where he's lying, cheek pressed to Liam's chest. He's playing with Liam's nipple, grazing his fingertips over Liam's skin, thumbnail catching. Liam slides his hand down Harry's side, down towards his hip. He's too sleepy to initiate sex again, but he's not tired enough to fall asleep right this instant. "Well, me and Louis are."

"Don't suppose many people actually holiday in Wolvo, Haz." Louis, for reasons known only to him and at best impenetrable to Liam, is standing by the side of Liam's bed, wearing one sock and steadily eating his way through a packet of chocolate HobNobs. "You are talking about a holiday, right?"

Liam shrugs. He hadn't exactly thought about options. He'd barely got as far as thinking through what he'd actually said. "It might be nice," he says, as carefully as he can. Holidays and mini-breaks are what couples do. People in relationships. He's still not entirely sure that this counts. He's half-convinced that every time he sees Harry and Louis, it's going to be the last.

~*~

LIAM WANTS TO TELL HIS PARENTS, he just wants people to be happy for him like he's happy with them. Is convinced they're going to take it well because they've always loved him and supported him and wanted him to be happy.

I told my mum and dad about the 3 of us, Liam texts, on Thursday night. He's careful with his spelling, for once. It takes him about three goes to get it right, and at least two and a half of those he can put down to his hands shaking.

It's about thirteen seconds until his phone rings.

"You all right?" Louis demands, as soon as Liam answers.

Liam lets out a ragged breath. "No?"

"God," Louis says. "You idiot. Why didn't you tell us? We could have, I don’t know, been there. We're like, two and a half hours away. Harry's gone to the shop for a Cornetto and a banana."

Liam tries, desperately, to get a handle on his breathing. "You don't have to—" he says, but then everything he's been trying to keep inside just comes rushing out, and he doesn't mean it to, he really doesn't, but he's crying. He's crying down the phone because his mum and dad don't want him. They don't want him, and they're everything to him, and he really, really thought they'd understand. "They don't want me," he manages, after a while. "Lou, they don't want me."

Louis' breath catches. "Oh, baby," he says. "Sweetheart."

"What am I going to do?" Liam can't think. He can't do anything. He's already been sitting here for the best part of an hour.

"Wait for us to get there," Louis tells him. Liam can hear him moving around. "We'll drive up as soon as Harry gets back from the shop. I'm so sorry. Liam, I'm so sorry."

Liam hates crying. He knows it's weak, and he should be past this, but he can't. It's so hard. "Haven't you got stuff tonight? You're going out. You said."

"Fuck that," Louis tells him. "I'm putting stuff in a bag. You're more important than any stupid party."

"I'm not."

"Oh god," Louis sounds like he's going to cry himself. "Liam, sweetheart. Please. Don't say that. We're two and a half hours away."

"Sorry," Liam says, automatically.

"No—" Louis lets out a breath. "Look, are you going to be okay for two minutes? I'm going to phone Harry, get him to get his arse back here. I'll call you straight back, I promise. Please don't cry, baby. It's going to be okay. I promise. It's going to be fine. Your parents are going to come round, I swear."

His parents had asked him to leave the house so that they could 'think about what he'd told them'. They'd used words like weird and disgusting and ashamed.

Liam's always had a lot of feelings, but right this second, he wishes he could tear his heart right out of his chest, just so that it would stop hurting, if only for a minute. "All right," he says, softly, and when Louis hangs up, he buries his face in his sleeve and lets himself cry.

Andy's there when Louis and Harry pull up outside in the car, looking awkward and a bit useless in Liam's kitchen. Liam has to send him to answer the door because he's on the phone when they bell goes; his mum is crying down the phone at him, and Liam's having enough trouble trying to figure out what she's saying in amongst the tears without having to worry about whether Louis' going to lamp Andy when he's not looking.

Liam can't think about that. He squeezes his eyes shut. "Mum—" he says. "Mum."

"I don't understand," his mum's saying. "We don't understand, me and your dad. How can there be three of you?"

"There just is," Liam says, over the sob in his throat. He hates crying in front of Andy. He knows what Andy thinks about lads crying, but Andy's been good enough not to say any of that in the hour he's been here. He'd given in and texted him whilst he was waiting for Louis to phone him back, a garbled evryyhgings gon 2 shit can u cumm overrrr plese.

This is why Andy's his best mate; he'd turned up forty minutes later with two portions of chips from the chippy and a four pack of Heineken.

Once he'd seen Liam's face, he'd dumped them all on the counter by the Baby Belling and punched Liam in the arm, before pulling him into a one-armed hug.

Andy still looks shell-shocked, and it's an hour later. He might not understand Liam and Louis and Harry either—and he doesn't, because Liam's had the questions to prove it—but at least he's still here. He's grown up with Liam, and he's grown up with Liam's family, and he doesn't know what to make of it either.

He's still here, though. His best mate.

He feels Louis and Harry

~*~

wakes up to find Ruth in the kitchen talking to Louis

When Liam wakes up, he can hear the soft burr of voices coming from the kitchen. He doesn't open his eyes, staying curled up on the couch instead, Harry's hand in his hair. It's Ruth's voice, and Louis', and Liam can feel himself freezing up all over.

"—I just don't get why," Ruth's saying, over the rumble of the kettle boiling. "You're both—you're in the newspapers. What are you doing here?"

"Because we both love Liam," Louis tells her. "Because it might be weird, and no one might get it but us, but he makes us happy and I think we make him happy too."

"But what are you doing here? You must have a proper posh place in London. What are you doing in my brother's shit flat?"

It's a question Liam asks himself a million times a day.

"Because this is Liam's life, and we love him, and we want to be a part of it. And his life is here, and in this flat, so yeah, we're going to be here. With him."

Ruth's quiet at that, and Liam stays where he is on the couch, his heart thumping. Harry's hand in his hair has stilled.

~*~

Liam is sad and alone; his parents want to try, and they all go for a barbecue at Liam's parents.

Louis comes to find Liam in his mum and dad's kitchen after a while, coming right on in and wrapping his arms around Liam's shoulders, pressing a kiss to Liam's neck. "You've been gone a while," he says, not loosening his hold.

"I'm making more salad," Liam tells him, chopping a tomato into eighths. "You lot have eaten all the rest."

"More salad's always good," Louis agrees, but he doesn't let go of Liam, and Liam's grateful because he feels like he's about to explode.

"Where's Harry?"

"Turning on the charm," Louis says.

"It won't work," Liam says, and he doesn't want his voice to catch, but it does nevertheless. His knife skitters over the tomato and down onto the chopping board. "They won't ever understand."

"It'll take time. To everyone who isn't us, this is probably really weird."

Liam shakes his head. "It's not weird," he says stubbornly. "I love you and I love Harry. I don't understand why that's not easy."

Louis lets out a breath, and drops another kiss to Liam's shoulder. "I think you're probably the most honest person I've ever met," he says, which is a lie. Liam lies to people all the time. Louis and Harry don't even know that Liam failed at the X Factor. One day they'll find out that he's lied to them all this time and that will be the end. He lies about how much he needs them and how much this means to him and how much he's desperate for them to love him like he loves them. He lies all of the time, every day, and one day it'll catch up with him and it'll all be over.

"I'm not."

Louis ignores him. "I see you, and you're always just—whatever you feel, you just—you're the most brilliant person I've ever met. You and Harry, but you differently. God, I'm crap at this. I'm trying to tell you that you're so open, and so honest, and that means you get hurt sometimes. If I could, I'd make sure you never got hurt again."

Liam's chest aches. "Louis—"

"People disappoint us," Louis goes on. "Sometimes people we love, they disappoint us. But that doesn't mean they don't love us."

Liam drops the knife. "I want them to love you like I love you," he says, and he sounds all choked up. He tries not to, but he can't help it. "It's not weird, and it's not wrong. We fit."

"I know," Louis says. He shifts, hooking his chin over Liam's shoulder, and wrapping his arms around Liam's waist. "You're fucking marvellous, Liam Payne. Like, fucking brilliant. Me and Harry are going to keep on telling you and telling you until you just know, okay?"

Liam nods, but he doesn't believe it.

When they get back to Liam's flat after the disastrous barbecue at his mum and dad's, Harry and Louis lead him wordlessly into the bedroom, and pull him into a hug. Harry presses his mouth to the corner of Liam's.

"You're brilliant," he says softly, sliding his hand into Liam's hair. "And when we met your mum and dad, we could see just where you get that from."

"They were rude," Liam stumbles over his words. "They barely spoke to you."

Louis slides his hands around Liam's waist, and under his t-shirt to rest his palms against Liam's stomach. "What do you say to the two guys who are having sex with your son, exactly? It's weird for them."

"I wanted them to love you," Liam admits. Louis keeps stroking his fingertips over Liam's tummy, and Liam wants to stay like this forever, in their arms.

"We'll make them love us," Harry says. "Just you wait. You've not seen our long term attack yet. We're excellent winners-over. We've got, like, plans and strategies."

"Just you wait," Louis agrees, mouthing at the sensitive skin beneath Liam's left ear.

Liam tells his parents that his relationship isn't going awawy and then Louis and Harry take him back home and look after him, but they have to leave to go back to London

Liam has to be by himself and Louis and harry are meeting together with Simon Cowell about singing in a group. Liam doesn't think they're serious.

~*~

Liam has never, ever been prouder of his sister than he is when he watches her say her vows at the front of the room. He stands there in his charcoal suit with his fuchsia buttonhole, being her usher, and he cries as she says I do. He can see Ruth doing the exact same thing from her pride of place as maid of honour, but he can't help but glance back over his shoulder, gaze going straight to Louis and Harry, half way back on the bride's side. They're probably holding hands, and Liam wants that so much it hurts, but he's promised Nicola and his mum and dad that he'll keep it quiet, this threesome he's in and trying to call a relationship.

It isn't like he doesn't know how weird it is, but he wishes the people he loved accepted him like Louis and Harry do.

Harry gives him a little half-wave, and that catches Louis' attention. He winks at Liam, bumping his shoulder into Harry's.

Liam turns back to the front. His heart is full.

Nicola comes over later. She's drunk and plump and beaming and beautiful. "I'm so proud of you, little brother," she says, leaning over to wrap her arm around his shoulders. Her wedding dress is the size of about three people. She looks gorgeous, and like she's had the best day ever. Liam only wanted that from today, so he can't help but consider it a job well done. "And I'm really pleased you're so happy."

Liam goes a bit red, but he risks a glance at Harry and Louis anyway. They're all sitting out of the way of the dancing, because if they can't be openly together then sitting in the corner together and tangling their feet under the table is enough of an alternative to capture their affection.

Louis winks at him, and Harry just grins. They've got matching button holes, the three of them, Louis biting his lip and swapping Liam's fuchsia one for a cream rose once the dinner and the speeches and the photographs were all done. Liam had wanted something that marked them out as a threesome, a trio, even if he couldn't offer them both more.

"Seriously," Nicola says, her arm still round Liam's shoulders. "I've never seen you so happy."

Liam knows he's blushing more. He wants to reach over and curl his fingers into Louis', and have Harry come over and wrap his arms around him. "Well," he says, only a little awkwardly. "I am."

"It's been a good day, hasn't it?" Nicola goes on. She waves her arm in the air. "Everything's gone right."

"It's been perfect," Harry says. "And you look beautiful. Thank you for inviting us."

Nicola leans over and takes Louis' hand. "You are being good to him, aren't you?"

"Nicola," Liam hisses, but he can't do anything; it's her wedding day, she can hold whoever's hand she wants to. "Stop that. Put him down."

"Shush," Nicola says. "I'm talking to your boyfriend. One of your boyfriends." She giggles. "I never thought you'd have more than one boyfriend, Lee. Never thought you'd have a boyfriend, come to that."

"Well, I do, and they're perfect," Liam tells her. "But will you put him down and stop embarrassing me for two seconds?"

"No, but seriously." Nicola lets go of Louis' hand and reaches for Harry's. Harry lets her take it, and flushes in what Liam can only think of as a ridiculously cute kind of a way. "This is my little brother," she says, not letting go of Harry's hand. "Like—me and Ruth are really protective of him. Cos he's our little brother. And it's like you are too. Not like Andy."

"Nicola," Liam warns.

"Seriously. I'm trying to tell you something, so shush, Liam." She shakes her head, and turns her attention back to Louis and Harry. "If you hurt him, either of you, then I will personally hunt you down and kill you, and Ruth will help me."

Liam isn't so sure of that, since Ruth is still not quite on board with the Liam-has-two-boyfriends part of proceedings. This is still the most embarrassing experience he can quite remember, so he leaves the Ruth part of things to one side for now.

"You don’t need to worry," Louis says, shooting a glance at Liam. "We're the last people you need to worry about when it comes to Liam. I'm pretty sure we're committed to making sure everybody in the world realises how great Liam is."

"Yeah," Harry echoes. "We think he's brilliant, and we love him."

Liam knows he's doing his best impression of a bright red, on fire tomato but he can't look up. If he looks up he'll do something stupid like kiss both of them, and he'd promised. He'd promised.

"Do you three want to dance?" Nicola says suddenly.

Liam looks up. "With you?"

"Well, I suppose. I just meant—I meant do you three want to dance, together."

Liam looks over at the dance floor. "But everybody will know," he says. "I promised you and Mum and Dad."

Nicola raises her shoulders in an inelegant shrug. "I haven't seen you this happy, like, ever. It's like—I don't think it's very nice of us to be like, come to my wedding, but pretend you're not totally in love for the sake of Auntie Dora and all the cousins and the neighbours or whatever. So I think maybe that you should dance. All three of you."

"But Mum and Dad—"

"Leave them to me," Nicola says. "Anyway, whose wedding is this? It's bloody mine, so you three, get up there and do something romantic for me, all right?" She kisses the top of Liam's head. "Go on, scram. I'm going to find Ed and get him to dance with me too. We'll make a right show of it, us Paynes on that dance floor. Where's Ruth?"

"You're not a Payne anymore, Nic."

"Once a Payne, always a Payne," Nicola tells him, winking at Louis and Harry. "Go on. Up you go." Liam watches as she threads her way through the tables and her wedding guests in pursuit of her new—and quite remarkably drunk—husband.

"Well," Louis says. He smiles at Liam. "What do you want to do?"

Liam smiles at that. "I want to do what I always want to do. Be with you guys."

Harry blinks at that, looking away. "God, " he says. "Fuck, stop making me cry."

"So," Simon Cowell says, when all five of them are in his office, sitting in deceptively low cushioned chairs in front of his desk, "What have you got to say for yourselves."

"This is Liam Payne," Louis says, pointing at Liam, "and he's fantastic. And we think we want to record as a band—"

"I know who Liam Payne is." Simon cuts him off, sitting back in his chair, tapping his pen against the arm. "Long time, no see, Liam."

Liam can't bear to look to either side of him. "I didn't think you'd remember me."

"I'm good with names and faces," Simon says. "It's part of what got me to where I am now. That, and I looked you up."

"What's he mean?" Louis hisses, kicking Liam in the ankle.

Liam shakes his head, and doesn't say anything. This is what the end feels like: this. So close to his dreams, and yet so endlessly far away.

"Didn't I tell you to come back when you'd grown up a bit? Done your GCSEs?"

Liam juts his chin out. "I couldn't afford to," he says. "I needed to work."

"I literally have no idea what's going on right now," Niall says, from Liam's other side.

"I auditioned for the X Factor," Liam sits on his hands. "Two years before you did, when I was fourteen. I went to Barbados with Simon. I didn't get through."

There is no silence like a horrified, wounded silence, and Liam can read this one like a book.

"God," Niall says.

"Shit," Louis breathes, next to him. When Liam looks, Harry just looks horrified. "Why didn't you tell us?"

Liam draws his shoulders up. "Dunno," he says. "Didn't want to tell you I'd failed where you'd all passed. Didn't make any difference anyway, not back then. Then it got too late to tell you. I didn't think Simon would remember me."

"I remembered you," Simon says. He's still tapping his pen against the arm of his chair.

AND THEN: happy ending of course.

#won't get to space #just bits and pieces from the depths of time

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