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la-imp · 1 year

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AVATAR RECOM HEADCANONS - INTRO

Recoms!Deja Blu Unit - Science"Puke"! Reader

This is my first headcanon series and I am incredibly nervous because there are so many good ones out there already. I have read quite a few amazing headcanon series by various blogs who practically carry the whole Avatar Fanfic scene, which I am really grateful for! I know these sorts of scenarios have been done a lot by now, but I wanted to get one out and put my own spin on it. I hope to write more and update this series as well as take in requests, one-shots, etc, expanding on the characters as much as I can. I hope you enjoy! Avatar has consumed my life, lol...

Disclaimer: I do not own AVATAR, nor do I own its creative properties and original characters. I do, however, own the 'reader' character as well as other created figures that do not appear in the Avatar films, video games, or comic books. Characters involved: Miles Quaritch, Lyle Wainfleet, Alexander Ja, Mansk, Zdindarsk aka Z-Dog, Zhang, Lopez, Fike, Warren, Walker, Prager, Brown - mentions of Jake Sully

Plot Summary: The story takes place during the events of TWOW, right before the great reef battle. I won't spoil any crucial plot details (for those who haven't watched the movie yet), so I'll end it there. The reader is a militant medic with a biochemistry background, now assigned special care to ensure Project Phoenix's success. As their body chemistry is quite different and unique from that of humans, they require some help getting used to their new vessel. This is where you come in... and boy... you were not prepared for this. A bunch of Na'vi Human hybrids at the peak of their prime, fuelled by hormonal rage, primal instincts, and a knack for vengeance, they sure as hell turned your daily life topsy turvy. To them, you were nothing more than another science puke here to bore them out of their minds, even though you had some military training as well. It is up to you to show them otherwise. To earn a place in their ranks.

Will (y/n) be able to handle this task or eventually fold like the others?

Warning(s): Cursing - Mild bullying - Negging - Foul language - Playful flirting

Content: SFW (Minors DNI) The reader is human and female. I plan to write specific headcanons for each individual character, but this was just a very long and detailed starter in order to get the ball rolling. Also this is not proof-read, so take this with a grain of salt. Happy reading! (also English is not my first language, so please bear with me) ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Hailing from a gentle background of academics and artists, you've decided to take a completely different route from what your family had destined for you. Going against their wishes and dissapointing a few members here and there was a price you were willing to pay in order to fulfill a lifelong dream. The prize of independence. Or perhaps you were tired of people telling you what you could and couldn't do. The idea of an adventure, exploring new worlds and galaxies, far far away from home was far more attractive than spending your years trying to fix a dying planet. But you also had a knack for helping and aiding those in need. Being a healer with a vast background of medicine and herbs only came natural to you. And as you graduated top of your class, you sought a new challenge. So you joined the space force. Military training was hard but you managed adquedately. And as you finally becamea full-fledged medic, you signed a contract with the RDA to be shipped off to Pandora.

Save to say, the six years of light-year travel did take a toll on your body. It was often emphasized that dreams do not occur during cryo sleep. Yet, your case was the opposite. Over and over you saw visions of a lush, prehistoric forest that almost looked magical and foreign. Due to overpopulation and pollution, nature seized to exist altogether back on earth, so thinking of what this mythical Pandora may look like, sparked a fire in the pits of your stomach. You began to wonder if these dreams held any meaning to them... or if it was just your brain chemistry running haywire during the cryogenic sleep. The closer you got, the giddier you grew - excited and electrified at the idea of setting foot on one of the most precious planet known to man. Perhaps in the entire universe.

After your space shuttle finally docked at the RDA's space station, you were quickly briefed on your assignment by the announcers, guiding you to the nearest secretary. The secretary looked over her glasses and tossed you an illegible glare before sighing with a shake of her head, handing you your paperwork. "May God have mercy on you," she mumbled before calling for the next candidate. You took the papers hesitantly, brows furrowing in confusion before your eyes cast down on on these said documents. Your eyes widened as your heart nearly sank. You were assigned to assist military Avatar personnel? You looked back up at the lady who was now grinning at you, a glint playing in her gaze. "Fresh meat for the grinder. It's a bit crass they decided to assign a small girl such as yourself to help these beasts," You slowly nodded, an awkward semi-smile forming on your lips, "I guess I like a challenge," you said, tone matching her sarcastic one. You have studied them for three years now, after all. You were prepared.

A few labcoats accompanied by a good portion of cleanroom suits were helping you find your way before passing you your exopack mask. It was the first time you'd ever seen one of those from up close. The concept of not being able to breathe the atmosphere was somewhat daunting. But it was something you had to get used to if you wanted to survive Pandora's 'Adapt or Die' rules. Wasting no time, you quickly strapped them on and secured the clasps, allowing the small piece of machinery to flood your nostrils with fresh oxygen. Impressed, you found it was much clearer and cleaner than that of Earth's... sadly enough. You then remembered the comment from the secretary earlier on, echoing in your mind over and over again until it festered in the back of your subconscious. Anxiety began to take a hold of you, shaking your confidence ever so slightly.

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, you then issued a curt nod to your superiors who lastly gave you a clipboard, detailing all of your duties and rank among the Recom unit members. "Ready, greenhorn?" Dr. Vasquez piped up, drawing you from your trance. You blinked at him with a wide-eyed deer-caught-in-headlights look, lips parting, "Y-yeah." he chuckled in response to your nervousness before slapping a hand on your shoulder in confidence. "Don' worry, they may look very scary at first glance, but you will soon realize they are professionals just like us, alright?" You nodded, swallowing the lump down your throat before clamping the board beneath your armpit. "Alright then kiddo, let's rock'n'roll," he said with a smirk before punching in a security code to unlock the doors to the decompressors.

The air was filtered to fit the atmosphere of the recoms. Which was in turn, extremely toxic to humans. Unconscious in twenty seconds - dead in four minutes. The prospect didn't sound like very glamorous death. As the door opened, a hiss emitted from the pressure, giving way to the bright light of the sun peaking through the glass windows. Vasquez marched forward before beckoning you to join him. Upon entering, the energy of the room immediately shifted. It was almost palpable to the touch.

A good part of your confidence was chipped away once you laid your eyes on your future teammates. Breath nearly caught in your throat. To say they were tall was a big understatement. They were huge - as a matter of fact - larger than life! Nothing could've prepared you for this. Most of them stood at around ten feet and nearly scraped the ceilings if they hadn't been adjusted to meet their physiology. You continued to saunter forward, one tentative step at a time, eyes still glued to their physiques without so blinking an eye. Their bodies were even more strange, striking you with awe. Slender, graceful, svelte, yet powerful. The complexion was a deep cyan or darker powder blue, decorated in interesting patterns and luminescent dots, all accompanied by a long prehensile tail that idly swung from side to side, giving them a more animalistic edge. They were all broad-shouldered, even the women, as you scanned the room with all the blue-skinned individuals lurking about, their poise signifying a certain strength and fortitude that of a warrior. They could easily toss a person across the room and break every single bone in their body with one blow if they wished.

Eyes were striking like molten gold peering from the shadows, intensely following your every move. Their previous chatter immediately died down as their eyes glued to you and the other scientists. Vasquez took his position next to someone who seemed much more commanding and authoritive compared to the rest. He stood slightly taller and wore a khaki tanktop, exhibiting a set of toned, muscular arms placated on his hips. You caught a glimpse of his tattoo on his left arm. A black eagle. A remnant of his previous life? Or something to distinguish himself from the others, perhaps?

The way he walked with a certain swagger, taking a stance next to Vasquez, sharp yellow eyes peering into the hall, had you nearly choke on your own saliva. He was an intimidating man, "As you all know, we are sent here to accomplish a mission that we couldn't last time. To hunt down and terminate the leader of the Na'vi insurgency, Jake Sully. And in order to ensure our success, we have been assigned our personal medical officers who specialize in Na'vi physiology. They make sure none of us step out of line and patch us up during missions. Treat 'em with respect, ya hear? They are as much our responsbilities as we are theirs," his tone was a low, commanding drawl, hinting at his possible origin back from Earth. He also sounded a tad older than his bio stats suggested.

"Wait, we're going to have these science pukes tag along?" Someone groaned in the background.

Doctor Vasquez nudged you with his elbow before whispering something into your ear. So he was the colonel. Colonel Miles Quaritch. The leader of the first recombinant unit Deja Blu, the first Avatar squad produced by Project Phoenix. Vasquez then nodded and brought you and another male medical officer. Thankfully you weren't alone. And as you peeked into the crowd, practically feeling their eyes rake over your forms in a very scrutinizing manner, you wished there were more human scientists to accompany you. "Listen up Recoms," Vasquez announced, matching Quaritch's energy. Which you had noticed, was now glancing at you over his shoulder with a lazed stare. You quickly turned away, hating that all of their attention was on you now. Just great. "Those are your new medical officers," he gestured to both you and your counterpart, earning him a few whispers and hushed conversations between the Na'vi hybrids. The heavily tattooed individual grunted loudly, expressing a clear distaste at the fact.

You watched as the one with the camo cap began to chuckle before leaning over to the tattooed female with the mohawk, gossiping something into her ear. Your eyes narrowed at her, hoping to God they weren't talking shit about you. The male medic next to you semed quite nervous himself, almost glistening with a faint sheen of sweat whenever the light hit his complexion. Oh man... what a great start. "This here is Mr. Ryan," Vasquez said confidently and clamped a hand on his shoulder before pulling you to his side with a toothy grin, "And this is Miss (y/n). They're going to do a quick checkup on your vitals before we make land on Pandora. Their status reports will affect your mission. If you have any further questions regarding any of that, feel free to ask them. Good luck and have fun," he said before departing, giving you a two-finger salute before vanishing out the door.

For a moment, you wished he hadn't abandoned you so soon, but as you stood there, again with the hundred yard stare, you instantly began pulling out your clipboard, training your eyes on the papers rather than the giant soldiers around you. Quaritch cleared his throat before stepping forward, closing in on your proximity. The heat practically rolled off of him. Almost radioactive in a sense. "Right. Welcome to the crew," he said as a deep rumble of chuckles resonated within the hall. You flicked your attention back on them, seeing as their expressions turned from scrutiny to amusement. The one with the hat flicked his chin toward Ryan, "So you get to touch us all around?" Ryan nodded cautiously, "Yes, in a sense. We need to do some physical checkups to make sure your bodies haven't mutated or caught any diseases on the way here and-"

"So you're gonna be cupping my big blue balls, too?" he said, making an obscene gesture as the team burst out in synchronized laughter. Mr Ryan pursed his lips in frustration. You felt his pain, it was nearly palpable.

You were so not ready for this... "Shut your horny mouth, Ja!" one of the female recoms hollered, smacking him on the back of his head.

Judging by the 'joke', you came to the conclusion that they were full-blooded jarheads. You sighed before ticking something off your clipboard. "And what about her? Is she good with her small hands?" At this your eyebrows twitched before you began searching for the miscreant of this statement. Seeing as the one with the bandana had crooked a finger at you. "Man, she does look cute tho... tiny lil thing. What's good, mama?" their banter continued, slapping and fist bumping each other, having the time of their lives. What a fucking farce - you thought to yourself begrudgingly. The behavior reminded you of teenagers experiencing the surge of hormones for the first time. You couldn't believe Vasquez had vouched for their professionalism. Perhaps he was in on the joke as well. "Shut your pie holes. They're here to help, not entertain you, you fucking lowlifes. Treat'em with respect or I'll have your ass handed back to the infirmary, you get me?!" Quaritch's voice boomed, immediately silencing the lively chatter among his subordinates.

Looking over at the colonel, you saw his hardened, chiseled features directed toward you with an unreadable expression. His pointed ears were tucked back against his head as he issued you a small nod. You repaid him with the same respect and inclined your head in acknowledgment before moving on to your first patient. "Brown?" you said, louder than originally intended before you flicked your gaze around the room, searching for any response. "Steven Brown?" you repeated with a bit more clarity. The mohawk lady merely snorted with arms folded, watching you as you searched for your first victim. Suddenly a blue hand lifted, alerting you of your designated recom, seeing that he looked a little less grim and intimidating. Although equally large, he seemed a bit more approachable, in your eyes at least. With that being said, it wasn't exactly a joyride pushing and squeezing yourself through, as some of them actively made an effort of staying rooted to the spot, entertained at your slight struggle. You could have sworn hearing someone wolf whistle at you but you pushed those thoughts aside when you reached your destination.

He was slightly shorter than the rest, not that you could tell right away as he was seated on one of the benches slightly hunched over, his posture overly lax. Much like the others, he sported that classical short military haircut and fade. "Alright doc, whaddya got for me?" he drawled with a certain bite. You decided not to overanalyze everything, as you were already extremely nervous. You meanwhile scribbled down all of the data before setting the clipboard down, looking him in the eye. He remained there, sitting there in silence, monitoring you with a peculiar glint playing in his topaz irises. "Alright, Mr. Brown, could you please stretch out your right arm? I need to take some samples and check your haemogram if that is alright with you," you explained as you flashed him a polite smile while the convos in the background resumed.

Brown simply nodded and muttered a small 'sure thing' before complying with your wishes. Once he extended his appendage, you got a chance to examine it closely - realizing just how large and sinewy his arm was. The texture was interesting too, differing not much from human skin, save for the lack of arm hair. "Finding a vein shouldn't be a problem," you jest before pulling out a small device for blood sampling. It was not a syringe, but a highly advanced gadget that locked down on the skin cell before drawing a bit of blood. "Alright, just let me disinfect this real quick..." you continued before wiping the spot with a small disinfectant wipe, clearing it from any bacteria. The feeling of his skin was curious, smooth yet somehow rougher to the touch compared to human flesh. Pandora's rough climates had evolved them to become perfect survivors as even their skin was harder to penetrate. Brown tilted his head to the side, ears swiveling curiously when you placed the blood-letting machinery against the crook of his arm. A small pinch broke through his flesh, extracting only a few tiny droplets. "There we go, that's about it-" Before you could continue, however, you caught Brown sending you a mischievous wink. "Didn't hurt at all, doc."

"Got what ya need, Miss (y/n) or... did I get that right?" you felt blood rush to your cheeks, heating your face altogether. They were trying to rile you up on purpose now... "(Y/N) right, but just call me by my first name. No need for being formal," hoping it would somewhat diffuse the awkward tension between you and the recoms. However, things did not go as planned when Brown's brows lifted for a short moment before his ears rotated in your direction, more attentive than before. "Well good to know, (y/n), looking forward to working with ya," your breathing became heavy to his deliberate teasing as he allowed himself to lean forward. You nearly jumped at his sudden intrusion "So (y/n), what does my blood test say?" just then the analysis was completed, giving you a clear stats report on his bloodwork.

"So far so good... bloodwork looks normal. Cholesterol is in the green and.... well..." His face faltered a bit, "What?" "be sure to consume fewer sugary drinks or sweets but other than that, you're fine. Wouldn't want you to be the first adipose soldier on Pandora," his features continued to crack "You calling me fat, doc?" he said before warming up to a smirk. You leaned away from him to avoid his sudden boldness. "Nah, just reminding you to be on your best behavior if you want to keep up with the rest, alright?" Brown scoffed with a shake of his head as you took your clipboard with you, writing down all of the info as well as checking a few boxes. "I'll get back to you later, just need to do the same with.... uh.. Wainfleet?" you asked, squinting your eyes to spot someone a bit taller and a tad bit more athletic looking. He lacked hair, like some of the others as he wiggled his fingers at you flirtatiously, a crooked smile plastered on his lips. "The one and only," you grunted in affirmation, feeling some of the dread returning before you headed over.

A sudden ticklish sensation and force tugged at the crook of your knee, having you to stumble and nearly fall flat on your face. Walker clicked her tongue with a roll of her eyes, "Come on Kevin, leave the poor girl alone already!" Quaritch's nostrils flared when he caught Brown fucking with you. A move of his tail that hooked around your leg in order to trip you. "You better secure that shit, Brown before I clip that thing off, capiche?" He growled, causing Brown to stiffen immediately. Eventually, he lowered his head and ears ".... yes sir... sorry,"

You managed to calm your thundering heart as you eyeballed Brown with a mix of irritation and embarrassment. What an asshole. Is that how it was going to be all the time? Good lord... how much you began to regret signing up for this particular unit. "Mr. Wainfleet?" you said softly, approaching the man cautiously as he eyed you up and down with that same grin on his face.

"Call me Lyle, sweetums. Only my mother calls me Mr. Wainfleet. So.... here to check the goods? Or maybe even get a feel?" Lyle chuckled before flexing his built physique, making you watch his biceps bulge and swell. The action made your throat dry out like the Sahara desert. Just what in the world have you gotten yourself into...

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they-them-that · 5 months

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The Complex Misogyny Enacted by Queer Men

Call outs: James Somerton, Trixie Mattel, Katya, Le'Ron Readus, The Roundtable, Rupaul, Karl Lagerfeld, Dolce and Gabana

With the James Somerton scandal, although I only watched some of his videos in passing, it has definitely made me make sure to be more vigilant about the content I consume and how they source.

I also want to address James' misogyny, something that tragically isn't unique to him. The "straight girl" scapegoat many queer men target has bothered me for a long time. They try to frame it in a way that is "punching up" at the privileged but their problem is entirely against them being women. Trixie Mattel has a habit of complaining about "straight" girls that has put me off, especially when her complaints are incredibly presumptuous and small minded. We wouldn't know random women's sexuality yet we choose to assume they're straight so we can openly ridicule them. Even if these women are straight, the problems queer men levy towards them doesn't so much call out any discriminatory behavior as it is shaming women for what they think is "shrill", "annoying", or just for sharing a space with them.

I recall an episode of UNHhhh where Trixie and Katya said how straight people are guests in queer spaces and in the same way, they can be "uninvited". Even though they use a gender neutral term here, we know that the bulk of straight people who attend queer events are women. In the same way that queer spaces are a safe space for gay men, it's also a safe space for women who want to avoid sexual advancements and sexual violence. Gay men overlook women's issues and needs when they find their presence inconvenient despite women posing little threat to them.

I've also seen the way queer men target queer women when they feel like they've been benefiting more than them. James Somerton, La'Ron Readus, and Tom from The Roundtable have all argued how the ratio of wlw representation in media compared to mlm is due to favouritism towards wlw relationships. This is a pure assumption, at the point they made this argument, we never heard of a canon mlm relationship being shot down by TV or movies and the accusers provided no examples of such, just that wlw representation has been making a breakthrough at the time thanks to the vehement pushing of its writers and show creators. It has nothing to do with preferences for wlw relationships as these studios have tried to stop it and still push back against it to "appeal to a broad audience". It just so happens that the queer creatives who have made waves for representation wanted to represent queer femmes, most identifying closely with sapphic experiences. To underestimate the amount of discrimination these queer creators got for getting wlw representation out there by assuming they have some type of privilege over queer CIS men is grossly ignorant. Although mlm representation is important, it's upsetting to see queer men look at wlw representation and respond with jealousy, unknowing of how queerness already centralizes them. RuPaul's Drag Race, for example, was only allowed for CIS men before trans women were recognized as legitimate drag performers, many of the "CIS" contestants turning out to be trans women. Drag kings still have not made any appearances on the show and are still overlooked and undervalued in the Drag community.

Even though queer men cry for their turn when it comes to something like queer representation in the media (even though it exists, they just have a problem with women having more than them), they don't bat an eye in the way queer men dominate places like the fashion industry that heavily discriminate against women (Karl Lagerfeld and Dolce and Gabana being infamously misogynistic). They also wince at gay shipping culture and mlm representation when it's created by women, accusing them of fetishism, something I've been guilty of in the past. Although, there's an understandable desire for mlm content that is also written by queer men and discomfort about women being voyeurs in gay fiction, we're also assuming these women aren't queer themselves or that they even identify as women. Love Simon's author, Becky Albertalli was forced to come out as bisexual after years of scrutiny for being a "straight woman profiting off of queer romance".

"I legitimately didn't realize. I'm thirty-seven years old. I've been happily married to a guy for almost ten years. I have two kids and a cat. I've never kissed a girl. I never even realized I wanted to. But if I rewind further, I'm pretty sure I've had crushes on boys and girls for most of my life. I just didn't realize the girl crushes were crushes."

There is an oversight on how many people divulge in queer fiction in order to explore their sexuality and gender long before they even consider that they could be queer themselves (I know that was my experience). But even with straight women, many of them are actually drawn to gay fiction because it subtracts women from the equation. Female characters are subject to sexist tropes and many of their romances are imbalanced and toxic. Gay fiction has been a way for women to enjoy romance without feeling the weight of patriarchy through femme-presenting characters.

All this to say that misogyny is still fervent in the queer community and queer men do not get a pass on how they talk about and treat women. I noticed that the most privileged of the queer community, that being White CIS gay men, are the ones who act the most entitled in the queer spaces they enter, not the "straight" women they constantly antagonize. Queer men still struggle with what all men struggle with and that's acknowledging their privileges. Even if they swear their problem with women is because of their sexuality, it really ends up coming down to their gender.

#james somerton #trixie and katya #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #rupaul's drag race #karl lagerfeld #dolce & gabbana #mysogyny #feminism #queer issues #lgbtq

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crisiscutie · 5 months

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Dissidia Kadaj/Dissidia Darling headcanons

As the second main pairing of the Dissidia AU, why not give it some backstory? This is based on Sephiroth and Kadaj's storylines in Opera Omnia! Featuring Aerith/Darling and Sephiroth/Darling.

Content Warning: Long Headcanons

༻❁༺ You were separated from Sephiroth and Seymour after a fearsome battle with the summon Shinryu, lost in the chaos that unfolded after the battle.

༻❁༺ You were found comatose by the Warriors of Materia, your life force hanging by a thread. They were split whether to help you, given your affiliation with Sephiroth and Seymour and from previous clashes you had with the warriors. Some desired your demise, while others had faith in you.

༻❁༺ Your childhood friend, Kieran, vouched for you, saying that you were being manipulated by Sephiroth, just like you were by your father back in your world.

༻❁༺ So they took you back to the World of Light and made sure to keep a vigilant eye on you, with Cloud, Zack, and Tifa taking special care.

༻❁༺ Despite knowing full well about what you've done for Sephiroth, Aerith still volunteered to care for you as you recovered.

༻❁༺ Kadaj wasn't sure how to feel about you. Should it be hatred because you were an ally of Sephiroth? But there was something about you that made him feel closer to home, closer to being whole.

༻❁༺ Aerith also sensed something strange about you. She didn't want to believe it, but the negative energy within you felt familiar to her. She couldn't help but be reminded of JENOVA and Sephiroth's negative lifesteam, all too familiar from her own time in the lifestream.

༻❁༺ She also noticed Kadaj lurking by you as well, little by little. Not to mention, Zack and Cloud always seemed to have headaches and low energy levels, which only furthered her suspicions.

༻❁༺ During the discussion about your situation and Sephiroth's intentions, she stayed quiet, attentively listening to Kieran as he talked his childhood with you and the ability of summoners like yourself to harness energy (normally from crystals) to create celestial beings from other planes of existence.

༻❁༺ Upon hearing this information, concern and fear hung in the air for everyone, leaving Cloud as the only one willing to ask the dreaded question.

༻❁༺ "...If she is to summon JENOVA for Sephiroth, then where is it?" He asked, as everyone became gravely silent. Aerith watched him closely as he raised his hand to his temple afterwards, a subtle grimace of pain on his face..

༻❁༺ Kadaj himself stood in silence, his breath quickening with anticipation. Could it be? Was the long-awaited reunion upon him? His heart thumped against his chest, echoing in his ears. His purpose, at last, acknowledged. But now, faced with her presence, his mind raced. What should he do? What should he say!?

༻❁༺ Aerith already knew the awful answer, but she had prayed that she wasn't right. But now, the mountain of evidence left little room for doubt. "JENOVA is growing inside her," she somberly said, eliciting a few gasps.

༻❁༺ But just as she's nurturing the remnant of the man who killed her in her past life, Aerith firmly believed in your salvation, even when you will become one with the calamity that had wiped out her people. Cloud and Zack were surprised by her determination more than anyone.

༻❁༺ Later on, your childhood friend visited your bedside. He expressed his regrets, as he won't be around when you wake up. He must assist his fellow warriors in another world. Even while unconscious, the sadness still consumed your heart as a single tear fell from your closed eyes when he left the room.

༻❁༺ You stirred in your unconscious state later, as Sephiroth's voice echoed in your mind. "Mother, where are you!?" You grimaced, tossing in your sleep as he spoke more. "You belong with us, darling. Your destiny..." his velvety voice now held hints of a malicious growl.

༻❁༺ Aerith and Kadaj rushed to your bedside as they heard your panted whimpers. The words of Sephiroth (or JENOVA?) intensified, growing louder and more aggressive in your mind. "The Reunion!"

༻❁༺In an instant, your eyes opened, your breathing frantic as you quickly took in your surroundings. Your intense gaze then met Kadaj's, sparks igniting within you as you spoke. "S-Sephiroth?"

༻❁༺ Kadaj's heart sunk in his chest as that name escaped your lips, his slit eyes welling up with tears. That familiar doubt and fear within him resurfaced, gnawing at his insides. Surely, you're still in a stupor? That shouldn't mean that you don't know him or that Mother preferred Sephiroth over him!

༻❁༺ His lips moved, but no sound escaped them. He silently searched for the words he longed to say, but they eluded him. So he stormed out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

༻❁༺ Aerith's concerned gaze followed his departure as she promised herself to check on him later. She then redirected her attention towards you with a warm smile.

༻❁༺ "Hey, how are you?" Her voice was tender as she placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "I'm Aerith, a friend of Kieran's." Your eyes widened at the mention of Kieran's name. "Looks like I have a lot to catch you up on!"

There'll be more!

#sephiroth #ff7 sephiroth #final fantasy 7 #ff7 #crisis cutie #aerith gainsborough x reader #aerith gainsborough #ff7 aerith #ffvii remake #kadaj x reader #sephiroth ff7 #cloud strife #sephiroth x reader #final fantasy vii #final fantasy x reader #one winged masquerade AU #female reader #x female reader #x reader

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birb-tangleblog · 4 months

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Seeing the occasional post in the tag talking abt how cliquey the fandom is and wondering why it's that way always kinda baffles me.

I think a lot of the perceived separation in the fandom and everyone figuratively eating at their own lunch tables is actually pretty natural; the show's been over for a good while now, so there's no new content to bring people together. Fans are mostly only interested in their favs, and a lack of crossover isn't too surprising or bad on its own. 7 K will probably never be my cup of tea, and I wouldn't expect someone big into Cass and Raps as siblings to consume content of them as romantic partners.

But I do think the 'tone' and climate that contributes to cliqueyness is often set by the more popular/active blogs in a fandom. ND fans wondring why Cass fans (and especially Cassn//zel shippers) feel ostracized seems rather obvious to me when the more vocal ND blogs/fans I see in the tag can't even engage with the idea of Cass existing, deride her as a creator's pet/waifu/"OC" [derogatory], and constantly treat her and Eugene's roles in the plot as a zero sum game, with her "stealing" moments from the movie or upstaging him as something Cass-the-character is personally responsible for.

I know there are definitely some bad takes out there from the hardcore Cassn//zel crowd too, and the 'Eugene cut her hair too short/he's too old for her' is kind of a meme to me at this point. I think there's also a lot of similar stuff to be said abt Var fans' attitudes towards Raps/Cass and the diff discourse topics with him- fans projecting and taking the narrative personally, etc.- but that's a diff post.

Anyway, not sure where I'm going w/ this. Having a lot of little niches isn't bad? 'The fandom' as a whole should be more self-aware? Performative neutrality is kind of unconvincing/tacky and you can't please everyone anyway? Some polarization is to be expected, esp as a fandom shrinks over time and the different servers and groups of fans become more insular and boil down/concentrate.

It's always good to be mindful of the atmosphere you create and how welcoming your spaces are to fans w/ different interests, but that's also not a requirement and sometimes different fans just won't gel or enjoy each other, even if they're all v cool people.

#hi folks it's Opinion Time #this started as me being pissy abt Cass hate and turned into a PSA lmao #be cool and respectful Ig and don't put your spicy takes/char hate or 'criticism' in the tags #be honest w/ yourself and your fandom friends/followers #as an aside it's worth noting that the impression I get is tumblr's tags and 'public spaces' have more of a ND bias #while twitter has more of a Cass//nzel bias #and obviously the servers vary #text post #discourse #my post

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elistodragonwings · 5 months

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Yes, stories can normalize things, for better or worse. Knowing something is fake doesn’t mean our subconscious won’t learn and internalize what we’re seeing. After all, horror films wouldn’t have the ability to scare us if our minds on some level didn’t respond to fiction as though it were real. It’s hard to imagine we don’t also unintentionally take in biases and other negative values.

But that process does not exist in a vacuum. People don’t mindlessly and passively have values normalized like by some magic force. Context matters – how something is presented, not just if it exists, combined with a person’s experience and knowledge determines what does and doesn’t get normalized.

Banning everything that might be bad won’t stop things from getting normalized because society can’t control what any individual person gets from a story in the first place. What society can and should do is teach people how to engage critically with stories and with their own perception.

We call out stories that are sexist or racist or ultra-violent or overly-explicit, we call out patterns of bias across a genre, we call out commonly negative depictions, not to ban them but to bring them to people’s attention. To get people to think about what it means that we’re telling stories like this, to discourage people from passively consuming media, to encourage creators to think differently about what they’re making. Because yes, media can normalize things, but it also is a reflection of the already-normalized values and blind spots of the culture creating it; trying separate this chicken-and-egg situation is impossible.

Even if everyone could agree on what stories are or aren’t harmful, no stories can be perfect because creators are not perfect. If you do manage to sanitize everything to the most uncontroversial state, you’re left with nothing that challenges people to grow.

More than that, you can’t both ban something AND teach people to think critically about that thing they’re not supposed to see. Harmful things will always exist, but if people don’t know how to recognize or engage with them, they’re more likely to have it become normalized for them because they won’t know any better.

If you want to ban “bad” content rather than teach people how to analyze, then where’s the data? Where are the studies that say this top-down blanket approach is the best strategy? Where’s the research that shows that people who write violence are more likely to commit violence? Where’s the experts in social change and harm reduction that define what kinds of stories even are harmful? Or are you just looking for a shortcut, a simple authoritarian fix to a complicated social problem of why people do bad things? Because I promise you, no one is a pedophile or a rapist simply because they read about it in some books.

Stories can and are used to teach values. To TEACH values. To try to ban books and information in order to try to passively shape social values is completely backwards from how progress works. When a story truly no longer fits with contemporary values, it doesn’t need to be banned. It decreases in popularity on its own.

An example from my own life:

I loved the Dragonriders of Pern series in high school. Some were in my school library, some were in my regular library’s adult section, and some I bought. These books were written from 1969-early 2000s, and so unsurprisingly, some of the relationships depicted are, let’s say problematic. Some I recognized as not ok and some I did not. And yet none of those problematic depictions got normalized for me. What DID get normalized? The possibility of a society where gay men not only existed but had a respected place in society. Sure, looking back now, their depiction is…not great. But they were there and it was normal and fine. And that was important because nothing else did that for me until many years later.

Why did that stick and nothing else? Because I came to the series with progressive values, an open mind for different ways of thinking about people, a desire for stories that showed me something different, and an awareness that science fiction often is written as social commentary and imagining what could be. Someone who came to the books with different perspectives would have gotten something entirely different from it. Some might even find this too painful and harmful to read. Those are all legitimate reactions.

Should the series be banned for showing lack of consent? Gay stereotypes? The fact that gay men exist? That abortion in this world is simple and not a big deal? Because some people will find these books personally harmful or upsetting?

Or do we let the books exist, available, as we teach people to think about their values and how to analyze both stories and the world around them? As we let individuals decide for themselves what helps them and what hurts them?

#book bans #censorship #purity culture #critical thinking #education #social progress #elisto

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fandom-research · 2 years

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First research results!

I have managed to turn analysing the survey to be part of a uni project I have due next month so I finally found time to analyse the basics! I will link to a less colourful and "boring" table view of all of these results in a later post, as I still need to write the code for that part and it's late. For now there is image description on there!

This analysis is based on n=100 people.

Question 1: Where do you mainly read fanfiction?

Unsurprisingly most of us spend a lot of time on AO3, but I think we should pay respect to the three lonely souls who use ff.net, wattpad or tumblr respectively. But how much time are we spending reading on average? Well...

Question 2: How much time do you spent reading fanfiction in a week?

I don't know if I should be concerned that nearly 1/4 of us is spending over 15 hours per week, meaning at least 2 hours a day, reading, but then again I strongly belong into the orange category as well.

Question 3: What fandom(s) do you regularily consume fanfiction from?

I have cut to the top ten of fandoms mentioned, because the list of mentioned fandoms is too long to nicely display in any form. It isn't all that legible already.

Quick switch to bar chart, because the pie chart got too crowded and because this is a multiple choice question so the percentages wouldn't match up. Our top 3 consist of Merlin at 19%, Marvel at 37% and Harry Potter at 71%. This is the point where I really questioned the data for the first time. I don't know if these percentages are representable for fandom as a whole or if this is a case of a "selffulfilling prophecy". Meaning the channels over which I distributed the questionnaire reached only a specific group of people, namely the Harry Potter and Merlin folks, as I have the most contact to those fandoms, accidentally biasing the data.

Question 4: What ship-category do you read most often?

Funfact: for the first ... 50? 65? entries, F/M wasn't represented at all. We love our gays I guess. Different funfact: there IS the option to choose F/F in the questionnaire. It just wasn't used. Even now there is one (1) lonely soul who picked that option out of 126. (The form is still open so on there I can see more answers than I used in the analysis)

Question 5: What type of fan-content do you create?

This one was a surprise. I didn't think that there were this many people actively creating content, but then again, this might due to the people reached by this questionnaire, so possible bias again. (Top 3: Fanfiction 77%, Fanart 35%, Podfic 9%)

That's it for the fan-related part of the research, let's go on with the neurodiversity and demographic part. Especially for these coming results keep the possibility of a bias in the data in mind.

Question 6: What form of neurodiversity/mental health struggle does apply to you?

This one was the reason this research even exists, and while I haven't yet looked up what percentages of the general society have any of the neurodiversities, I believe that this is rather high, proving my subjective observation: A LOT of the people reading fanfic are neurodiverse in some way. Over half of the participants answered that they have some form of anxiety and/or depression, with some people even leaving me comments how fanfiction is their safe-space, helped them grow and accept themself. This one I will be focussing more on in the future analysis.

Question 7: What is your gender identity?

This as well surprised me to a degree. Even without comparing I know that this is FAR off of the official gender demographics of the general society. Especially the amount of enbies is surprising but nonetheless welcome.

Question 8: Do you consider yourself as part of the LGBTQIA+ community?

(No picture due to the 10 pic limit on posts) Results:

Yes: 90%

No: 6%

Prefer not to say: 4%

Now, again. A LOT of us are queer as fuck. This is most definitely not the norm in general society and even with a potential bias is significant enough to say that the majority of fanfic-readers are part of the LGBTQIA+ community.

Question 9: If you consider yourself as part of the LGBTQIA+ community, what "part" of the community?

The answers here refer to the orientation differing from hetero or the gender identity differing from cis. Keep in mind that this question was voluntary and therefore not everyone did answer this. Actual percentage might be higher. (I don't know the number of people that answered that question right now but will go into more detail at a later date)

Question 10: How old are you?

Again a voluntary question. But on average the community seems to be in their mid or late twenties, although there are also a bunch of adults over 30 enjoying fanfiction. This graph especially reminded me to not assume anything about people within the community. The other person could be someone in still in school, dealing with their first crush or big exams. It could just as well be someone working full time or someone with kids, someone with grandkids even. Fanfic is and always should be open for people of all ages.

Question 11: Where do you live?

Sadly I haven't been able to reach people in africa or antarctica but oh well. The form is still online, should anyone from there want to add their input into this statistic! ;)

Overall results:

People reading fanfic are a lot more queer, neurodiverse and in general divers than one might expect. I for one was surprised to see how willing people where to answer a stupid online survey that wasn't supposed to lead anywhere.

Thank you to everyone who answered and especially to those that left me nice comments in the form <3

#fandom research #results #harry potter #marvel #merlin #lgbtq #neurodiverse stuff

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sorryyourenglishteachersucked · 2 years

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Recently I saw a post going around about how people are overly condescending about people not knowing valuable internet skills such as how to curate your experience, and it was a good post that I didn't want to derail, but it reminded me of a closely related issue, so I'm making my own post:

When it comes to a lot of common fanfic and shipping discourse, I suspect a good chunk of it comes from people noticing a very real problem with Web 2.0 – that is, that the trend toward centralizing content on a few Big Sites makes it way harder to curate one's online experience than it needs to be, and contrary to popular claims, in many ways harder than it used to be – and applying the wrong framework to analyze and solve that problem. Don't get me wrong, I'm not blaming this brand of wank entirely on this Damned Newfangled Internet, Why Back In My Day--

But I am saying that the way the internet operates at this point is definitely a factor.

Look, I got into online fandom in the era where a SINGLE large enough fandom might have enough fanfic archives to fill an entire Monopoly board. This had its own problems (many of these sites could just cease to exist with no warning, whether because someone got tired of maintaining them or because a lot of source media creators were a lot more litigious and small archives didn't have lawyers; a lot of mod teams were unprofessional and inconsistent in which rules they enforced and how strictly and/or would just make up technicalities to remove pieces they didn't like, etc.), and this brand of drama existed then too, but it was a lot less...all-consuming. Back then you could usually just go about your life on Your Big Central Site (usually Livejournal if you were a fannish type) without being asked which “side” of an argument you were on, with no way to answer that wouldn't get you death threats.

Dark fic existed. Smut fic existed. Fics about touchy and upsetting subjects existed. Of course there were always some people who got really upset by that, and there were always regulars and even webmasters of more strictly moderated sites who were really judgy about it and assumed the worst of everyone who used the free-for-all archives, but in that period, by and large the response to people getting belligerent about it was basically “dude, stay off that site/out of that group then, stick to this one where that kind of stuff isn't allowed, leave it alone, it’s not worth it.” It was usually a lot less heated than it is now, simply because people had the option to stick to their own circles without being all but forced to interact with content that upset them if they wanted to be in the fandom at all.

The problem is, that advice doesn't work now that we're mostly centralized on big social media juggernauts and AO3, and “then block the tag/that user” is not actually the same.

The result is that curating your experience used to be done passively – you just stayed on sites and in groups oriented toward the kind of fannish content you wanted to see, and didn't visit the ones that invited what you didn't want, and on Big Sites where everyone mingled, you just didn't follow links you didn't trust – whereas now it must be done actively, in many cases involving downloading a ton of browser extensions, by creating tag and keyword blacklists that you have to configure yourself, which is not only tedious, but really sucks when something bothers you enough that you don't want to be reminded that it even exists and now you have to type it into your blacklist for every new site you visit. Never mind the fact that these measures can fail if someone forgets a tag, doesn’t tag their work properly because they don’t recognize the element as something people are likely to want to block (i.e., something that would get a work removed from a stricter archive before most users are subjected to it), does tag something but does so in a way that’s not picked up by your filters, you’re on a site that doesn’t let you opt out of seeing when and why content has been blocked (which, again, is not exactly a fun time when you blocked something because you don’t want to be reminded it even exists), or someone just decides not to tag something at all. You can block someone who does this or add their version of the tag to your blacklist, of course, but when that happens, the damage is already done. It’s even more likely for this to fail on Twitter and Instagram and TikTok, where The Algorithm is very likely to decide to show you things you never even knew you’d want to block, even more so than just this model where, even if you don't HAVE to follow individuals' whole accounts to see their content for your fandom, you're still more heavily encouraged to than you used to be now that broad site-wide tags have largely replaced groups. The onus of filtering has shifted from webmasters and moderators, to individual social media users who just dare to have boundaries, often for disability-related reasons that make that job a lot more difficult and stressful than it might be for others.

Because of the way the modern internet is structured, modern fandom absolutely has a problem with making it harder than it used to be to avoid what you don’t want to see, and this needs to be addressed and fixed.

Again, I'm not saying things used to be all sunshine and rainbows, or that there are no benefits to centralizing, because there are a lot. However, even positive changes can introduce complications; every change breaks someone’s workflow (and steadily increasing corporate control of the internet isn't even a net positive in the first place), so of course we're having Issues. People love to talk about how rah, back in my day it used to be the wild west out there, "lemon" could be anything from vanilla fluffy smut to hardcore guro porn with detailed illustrations, and the only warnings you got were "don't like don't read" – but, as true as that was, there were other filtering methods. You didn't like how FFN or the big communities on Livejournal were more of a free-for-all than you were comfortable with? You went and made your own archive with blackjack and hookers by just opening up a new Invisionfree forum or something like it to only host/link to the kind of content you liked, or you started a new Livejournal community that banned the content that caused you distress. You invited all your friends. You ignored the broader unfiltered sites and groups unless you were feeling really brave and bored that day.

For all we talk about how things used to be so much worse and more unfiltered, that's really only half true. You were more inclined to accidentally actively click through to a surprise moderate squick, yes, but you would usually stick to sites and groups where any actual major triggers you had weren't allowed and certainly wouldn’t pop up in their full glory in your (now often algorithmically-generated) personalized feed like some kind of horrible jack-in-the-box (unless you were unlucky enough to log in during a 4chan raid, but that wasn’t exactly a daily occurrence like filter failures on Twitter now).

We don't really do that anymore. We don't really have the option to do that anymore, at least not the way we used to. Free and cheap forum hosts still exist, but hardly anyone uses them, because it's hard to populate a new site when the culture has shifted to wanting to maximize exposure more than build community and ALL the members of your my-otp-only-no-lemons-allowed forum and thensome already follow you on Twitter or tumblr.

However, somewhere along the line, fandom largely missed the point and applied a media critique model to this problem. Instead of calling for more websites to adopt (or more accurately bring back) interest-based user-run groups a la Livejournal, or placing more value on people who curate rec lists and building more tools to do so, it’s become a battle over what kind of content is allowed to exist at all. In this environment, depending on which side of the great debate you’re on, either every fanfic is treated as if it has the reach and influence of a major mainstream Hollywood production or more, or you recognize that that model doesn’t really apply so every problem it gets misapplied to gets shouted down as nonexistent.

Now don’t get me wrong, there are absolutely things in fandom that do need to be critiqued using that framework. Fandom has a long history of...not always being kind to marginalized people or characters. The beauty and ugliness alike of fandom is in the fact that fan works, especially fanfics, are mostly created for fun and nothing more. “Crack taken seriously” is so ubiquitous that a lot of it doesn’t even recognize itself for what it is; it’s just part of The Nature of Fanfic. Fan works are often unpolished; the quality is all over the place (and that is a good thing), because the barrier to entry doesn’t exist – people can just post whatever the hell they want, and in some cases this is actually more true than ever as the internet becomes more and more centralized, as people usually don’t need to go as far out of their way to search for the specific websites that allow their type of content. The downside is, this often means that because no one is reviewing someone’s work before publishing, no one is there to say “dude, what the fuck is wrong with you, that’s racist as hell, we are NOT gonna publish that”. This is definitely something worth addressing using the media critique framework.

But that’s not the same problem as the fact that content that explores uncomfortable and potentially triggering topics exists, and we are having trouble keeping it contained because the modern internet is built around trying to smash everything vaguely related together for Maximum Engagement.

Some people have liked to explore darker subjects in fiction for as long as fiction has existed, and this is especially common with marginalized people who may have a complicated relationship with darker subjects in fantasy because of their real life experiences. However, for just as long, some people have preferred to stick to fantasies that feel safe, often for the exact same reasons. This is because humanity is extremely varied. It’s really that simple. Darker fiction will never cease to exist, even if it turns out to be true that it “should” (which I highly doubt is the case). What we need to be doing is working on more ways to make that fact safer to navigate-

Which is the exact opposite of what the modern internet is doing.

The modern internet is mostly about getting more eyes on every page to sell more ads, to the extent that even when it’s not about selling ad space, it’s created a cultural expectation of centralized content delivery where more engagement is always better and there's no such thing as a non-target audience. The modern internet is about cramming as much Content on Big Sites as possible, both commercially and culturally – mentally, we’re often averse to taking the few minutes it takes to sign up for a new site when we have bigger hubs we consider Good Enough. Oftentimes, the modern internet is about obsessing over your engagement numbers to the point of feeling dejected and personally slighted if someone doesn’t want to see content you know is a trigger for them because Your Friend Is Not Contributing To Number-Based Support. All the art is on Twitter, all the fic is on AO3, and if you want to browse those sites to look for it (especially Twitter with its very limited tag room) you will almost certainly run into content that will feel tailor-made to personally upset you, and if you want to engage with your fandom at large you have very few other options.

It’s just plain not good for fandom. At least AO3 is made for fandom, but it has its flaws anyway, because yes, the fact that it’s not made to sell ad space and user data may mean the features that get made are made with improving the actual human user experience in mind, but it also means...not nearly as many resources to make better features in the first place. (Block function? Easier filtering system? Saving filters account-side? I know they're working on some of these, but...well, the fact that they don't have the corporate backing of Twitter and Facebook is painfully obvious.)

We need to go back to embracing smaller and more specialized archives; we don't have to give up the security that AO3 provides to do that if we just mirror or link works hosted there. We need to create more rec lists. We need to push for more sites to adopt/bring back groups (it's sad when Facebook is doing something more right than any other major site). It would be great if someone could create an engine to let people easily create their own archives where users can embed AO3 fics, to let authors and readers alike take advantage of AO3’s protections while allowing readers the full benefit of passive curation again.

We need to recognize that Web 2.0 is just plain hostile to meaningful human interaction and community-building, perhaps especially in fandom.

#fandom #fandom culture #fandom problems #internet problems #web 2.0 #sorry your english teacher sucked #long post

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narrans · 2 years

Note

81). "I thought I could trust you!" though combined with 79). "If you weren't a good person, I wouldn't have trusted you." , that might make a interesting tale too. up to you of course which one you prefer.

Greetings and salutations!

I know it has been a moment, but I wanted to take this time and say that I have not left you, nor shall I ever. Time is fluid and speeds up and slows down at whim.

With that, please be aware of the following story.

Many of my stories have moments that are happy or some kind of positive resolution. This chapter does end positively, but not before delving into evil. This is one of the darker stories I have constructed and is part of a much larger book I intend to continue writing in the future. Darkness only exists when we have a light to compare it to, and this must show darkness to accentuate the light.

With that in mind, please be advised with the following content warnings: mentions of death, mentions of homicide, mentions of suicide, mentions of cannibalism/consuming sentient life, mentions of torture.

Please critique and enjoy with these content warnings in mind.

Cheers and, as always, stay awesome!

~Narrans

PROMPT

The world is not a kind place. It can’t be. Rather, it can’t afford to be. Given the chance, each entity will try and take advantage of another to fulfill one goal or another, whether it’s for pleasure, entertainment, or pure survival.

O’Kairyn knew the ways of their world. There was a cycle to life. There was a natural progression to this cycle. Something is created, it exists, and at some point it ends. O’Kairyn knew this and never resented it.

From the Essevi in his bones to the celestial bodies above, O’Kairyn knew these things to be true. He knew that creatures needed to die for some to survive.

He also knew the treachery of the Ordin.

As an Imitari, O’Kairyn feared the Ordin. There were stories of times when the two races once lived in peace, but that was centuries ago, if it even happened at all. The Ordin were everything the Imitari were not. Ordin were immense, humanoid entities who insisted on building towns and roads, cutting through the forests and trees to further their empires. They waged war to gain the objects of their fallen enemies and knew no compromise.

True, they were arguably more suited to the world around them, physically larger in stature to the point where they could practically eclipse the suns if they stood over an Imitari.

Imitari, on the other hand, dwelt in and among the elements of nature where they felt more connected to the earth. They lived quiet lives and possessed a love for the beauty of nature surrounding them. They could conceal themselves among the roots and underbrush with ease, and often this was where they made their homes. Their civilizations and cities existed in unison with what was around them.

Yes, one race appeared physically similar to the other. One head. Two arms and legs and hands. If perspective were altered, a person could not distinguish the two.

In all reality, there was one, significant different that truly separated the two races – Essevi. For Imitari, like O’Kairyn, it was what gave them their abilities. It was lifeblood. It was the source of the extraordinary. It connected the celestial bodies and gifted many Imitari with this innate gift. Spells and runes, sigils and sages all possessed Essevi.

It was this precious thing that the Ordin were now fixated on, and they were stopping at nothing.

To O’Kairyn, it was a disgrace. It was unacceptable. It was wretched what they were doing to their people – those Imitari with Essevi.

Like common pests, Ordin were trapping any and all Imitari in the hopes of finding those with Essevi. The Ordin flushed out entire cities to shove its occupants into inescapable cages that could negate Essevi. The wretched creatures, you see, had found a way to do so. O’Kairyn had his suspicions on how the Ordin designed such sigils, specifically believing a few Imitari had volunteered their assistance so their own families would be spared. Sadly, it was just a working theory.

It would have been a mercy to simply kill the Imitari and go about their day. These monsters, however, had gone a step further.

The Ordin often kept Imitari and tortured them for information. They would ask where the other villages were. How Imitari hide themselves. More importantly, where were the Imitari finding sanctuary. The Imitari were running somewhere to avoid Ordin capture. Where was it?

Worst of all, after capture and questioning, was what all Imitari believed to be the fuel of nightmares.

The Ordin called it The Caerimonia. In short, they would consume the Imitari in full, body and Essevi in all, while alive.

The wretched event was something no one wanted to endure.

The Imitari, O’Kairyn’s people, called it the Braheginh – the soul’s death cry.

All of this, which was the most despicable to O’Kairyn and all Imitari, was to steel the Essevi for themselves. The Caerimonia, a process devised by some of the twisted Ordin, had discovered a way to take and obtain Essavi from an Imitari.

While many Imitari fled, an equal number were captured and were suffering at the hands of the Ordin. O’Kairyn was one of a few who dared to attempt to stay and free their kind out of their homelands into a freedom they once knew in a time that felt like centuries ago.

O’Kairyn helped run a smuggling operation along with a few other brave Imitari to help bring Imitari to freedom. There was an entire network working together on saving others, each individual knowing only a piece or two of information to keep safe havens a secret.

O’Kairyn had made it his personal mission to free as many souls as he could before meeting his demise. He knew it would be his end, but he recognized it. Each time he left the safety of his home for the trail, he knew it could be the last time. Still, he refused to roll over easily if he could help it, but such an enemy which could cancel the Essevi was a powerful one.

All the more reason to save his people.

So, as O’Kairyn prepared himself, he set his mind to the possibility he would not return. He felt nervous of all things, but it was more than the usual unease.

This night was unlike others. O’Kairyn had received a tip from other Imitari who were close to nearby villages and the capital, Yleigh, that someone knew when the next “harvest,” as the Ordin called it, would be shipping the collected Imitari to Yleigh.

It was supposed to be a good tip, and mainly it was vouched for by one of O’Kairyn’s fellow runners. It might not be much, but it was all the runners had to go on sometimes; and wasn’t it worth the risk if at least one Imitari life could be saved from the Ordin’s greedy maws?

The night was still and aglow with the cold moons’ light. The three moons were aligned in the sky in an odd way, two of them full face and one a fading crescent. It made it look like the three moons tracing the heavens above look like an odd, menacing smile. The sight sent chills up O’Kairyn’s spine, but he kept low through the underbrush out of view. The ferns arched above his head and cast the perfect type of dappled shadow against the root infested terrain.

The trek was a longer one, and several hours passed while O’Kairyn darted from cover to cover until he finally made it to the predetermined meeting point. O’Kairyn tapped his fingers nervously on a root just above his head which was helping him stay concealed. Even though he was hours behind, O’Kairyn elected to wait and observe the clearing; for all he knew, there could be a passive trap waiting to ensnare unsuspecting Imitari.

Time passed in what the forest called silence, filling the trees with the chirp of crickets and the occasional screech of birds of the night, before O’Kairyn was satisfied there was no one in the immediate vicinity.

Taking a breath, O’Kairyn concentrated and summoned a small, green light by the base of an immense, old tree halfway across the clearing. It was one of his signatures and a signal for his source to come forward.

He waited for a short time.

And he waited a short time longer.

O’Kairyn’s hands began shaking slightly. His concentration on the verdant light faded. He needed to preserve what energy he had in case of emergencies. Perhaps he had the time wrong? Perhaps he was too late? Maybe the informant had been captured?

The thought alone was enough to make O’Kairyn weak in the knees. He was about to abandon his post and begin the long trek back when he saw someone, an Imitari, step out from under the cover of the roots by the base of the tree.

Relief swelled in O’Kairyn’s chest, and he let out a sigh he didn’t realize he was holding.

Time to meet.

O’Kairyn summoned the same, verdant energy in the subtle light at the base of the tree and made his way over to the individual. The Imitari crouched by the roots of the tree was a young man, early in his twenties, and had tired brown eyes. When O’Kairyn approached, the other Imitari looked around nervously before greeting him briskly.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” he said quietly. O’Kairyn heard a tremor in his voice.

“I had to make sure the area was safe. I’m O’Kairyn,” O’Kairyn replied quietly as he gestured for them to hide further in the roots of the large tree. O’Kairyn summoned a verdant light in his hand which cast odd shadows among the roots as he sat down on the ground across from the other Imitari, who looked concerned and wrung his hands.

“I’m Haryk. Do… you… think they’re out there?” he asked nervously. O’Kairyn nodded.

“They’re everywhere, but that’s nothing new. Now, let’s get right to it, you said you ha…”

“If… if you think they’re out there, do you think it’s safe? For both of us? I mean… how do I know I can trust you?” interrupted Haryk. O’Kairyn sighed and rubbed his eyes.

“You’re right. Times have certainly turned against us, yes. Still, we have to be able to trust one another. That is what separates us from the Ordin. I mean, if you weren’t a good person, I wouldn’t have trusted you and I wouldn’t be here,” replied O’Kairyn.

“You were… certainly a difficult one to get in contact with. Really, I… I never thought I’d have the pleasure of meeting you,” muttered Haryk. O’Kairyn couldn’t help but grin at this thought.

“Thanks, and you’re not wrong. There are a lot of Ordin who would like to see the end of me. I’ve made their lives a bit difficult lately, but back to the point,” said O’Kairyn, trying to rein in the conversation. The hair on the back of his neck was standing on end and there was something that felt charged in the air around Haryk. Though O’Kairyn felt uneasy, he wanted to get the information from his fellow Imitari. “You told a friend of mine that you have information about the so-called ‘harvest’ and the transport back to Yleigh. So, talk.”

“I just… how will you make sure you keep everyone safe? Do you have others?” pressed Haryk. The runner sighed and shook his head.

“I can’t tell you. Please understand I don’t have anything against you, but we keep this information quiet on purpose. Now, please, we don’t have a lot of time,” urged O’Kairyn. Obviously disappointed, Haryk nodded and cleared his throat.

“Right. Of course. Apologies. Yes, the Imitari were taken seven suns sets ago. The raid was… terrible. The Ordin had them all in cages. They were stacking cages in a carriage with these massive horses. Flames were everywhere. I… I don’t think anyone got away,” said Haryk.

Haryk proceeded to give details about the different Ordin, describing different features of their faces and even was able to describe what clothes they were wearing. He said they would be traveling by the river all the way to the capital and that they would be leaving later that night.

O’Kairyn listened patiently and paid attention to every detail. As he listened, something just didn’t seem completely right to O’Kairyn.

“So, you don’t think anyone got away?” he asked. Haryk shook his head, eyes glossy with the burning images of the memories in his mind.

Why do I have this nagging feeling? What about this is setting me so on edge? Wondered O’Kairyn.

“So, where were you hiding? Or did you hear this from someone else?” asked the runner, watching Haryk’s reactions carefully. O’Kairyn watched Haryk shift uncomfortably before he responded.

“Yes… well… I mean… I was nearby… I was out hunting some small ground stalkers and hid in one of the trees nearby to watch after I heard the screams,” stated Haryk.

O’Kairyn’s eyes narrowed. Haryk’s voice had an almost imperceptible tremor. What was worse was that despite the relative chill of the evening air, there was a nervous bead of sweat gathering at Haryk’s hairline. Was he that scared of being discovered? Did he think he was followed?

“And, just to clarify, you do not have Essevi?” probed O’Kairyn.

“No, but my family does,” replied Haryk.

“And you’re from the town?” O’Kairyn asked.

“Yes.”

O’Kairyn’s senses were electrified. Something felt wrong. Something felt really wrong about this conversation.

How could Haryk have seen such great detail if he were hiding in a distant tree?

Haryk didn’t have Essevi, but his family did.

A sinking feeling settled in O’Kairyn’s gut, and everything in him screamed to be on edge.

It suddenly made sense and, if it were true, O’Kairyn was in trouble.

It seemed like an impossible circumstance, but O’Kairyn had heard twice that other runners encountered an abettor, someone who was working for the Ordin, for the protection of their own family. How an Imitari could do such a thing was beyond him, but O’Kairyn didn’t want to find out.

He needed to stay calm, but he also needed to conclude their meeting sooner rather than later. Trying to give off no warning signs, O’Kairyn stood and forced a smile.

“Well, I think I have everything I need,” he stated. “If they are leaving tonight, I’ll need to move quickly. It would be safer if you stayed here for the next few days.” Panic in his eyes, Haryk stood and grabbed onto O’Kairyn’s arm.

“Wait, don’t leave just yet!” he begged. “Take me with you. I… I want to help.”

“You’ve done what you can by telling me. I promise I’ll do what I can…”

“No… you… you don’t understand…” There was a wildness to Haryk’s eyes that felt like a punch to the gut. Before O’Kairyn could summon a force to push Haryk away, he felt a sharp jab in his side accompanied by a burning sensation. “You… they need you….”

O’Kairyn shoved Haryk away and turned to run, but the burning was quickly spreading through his body. O’Kairyn knew what this was. What he was stabbed with was a toxin. Imitari had learned to harvest and brew a special toxin that stunned and immobilized its prey. It was difficult to brew, but it was highly effective. They tried using it on the Ordin, but it required a significant dose to render one unconscious, though O’Kairyn couldn’t see why.

Already, he could feel it pumping through his blood, spreading quickly from the rapid beating of his heart. His vision blurred and the tips of his fingers were tingling. He barely made it ten steps before his knees gave out.

“Wha… what have you done?” O’Kairyn said, speech slurring. He tried clawing his way forward to get away from Haryk, but it was pointless. Voice tense and shaking, Haryk’s reply was simple.

“I had to protect my family. This was the only way they would let us live. I… I’m sorry.”

The world was consumed in darkness as O’Kairyn slipped into unconsciousness.

There were moments of blurred focus for him.

He could hear Haryk’s voice shouting, calling out to someone. It was soon followed by a sharp pinch and the sensation of weightlessness. There was another shout of surprise. No matter how much O’Kairyn struggled to open his eyes, they were too heavy. The toxin was still running rampant in his bloodstream.

O’Kairyn wasn’t sure how much time passed, but what he did know was enough to crush what fighting spirit he possessed.

Bars.

Harsh, metallic bars.

They were everywhere.

O’Kairyn’s vision was enveloped by these bars around him. Inscribed into the top and bottom of his prison were those dreaded sigils negating his Essevi. There was no need to look for the dagger at his back or in his boot. They were gone. He could feel it. He also felt a twinge and glanced hopelessly at his left arm, which was hanging limp at his side and deeply bruised from what he could see beneath his simple leather and cloth armor.

That must’ve been where they grabbed me. It would be the Spirits’ will if it weren’t broken.

What was more surprising was that O’Kairyn wasn’t alone in his cage. Haryk was also there with O’Kairyn, trapped behind bars. The once freed runner didn’t expect anything different. Did Haryk think he would be safe? Did he think the Ordin would just let him go when he had been so compliant? Obedient and willing to act as a lure was what Haryk had established himself as, and they would keep using him.

Poor soul.

If things were different, O’Kairyn might actually feel inclined to attack Haryk; however, if O’Kairyn was right, the energy wouldn’t be worth it.

Their end was undoubtedly soon. Why fight with what would undoubtedly be the last Imitari he would ever come into contact with?

O’Kairyn popped his ears and forced his body to stretch. Thankfully, it didn’t feel like anything was broken, not that it mattered. His shoulder was dislocated, yes, but that was the least of his worries.

O’Kairyn was known among the Ordin. He had made their lives a living misery by helping raid their “harvests,” and now his life was forfeit as exchange. He clenched and unclenched his jaw to keep the swelling, choking feeling in his throat from rising up. If this were to be his end, he wouldn’t go out a blubbering fool.

Unlike O’Kairyn, Haryk was shouting at the top of his lungs at what were undoubtedly their captors. Haryk spoke in Common rather than the language of the Imitari, which was Tarian.

“I thought I could trust you!” Haryk shouted over and over. “Let me go! Give my family back! You swore!”

The sounds of desperate shouting were, if anything, annoying. O’Kairyn glared at Haryk’s back before letting his shoulders slump.

“Will you stop that. Have some dignity,” O’Kairyn muttered in Tarian and not in Common, clearing his throat a couple of times after in hopes to disguise the emotion he didn’t want to slip out. Haryk looked back at O’Kairyn, terror in his eyes.

“I… you… you’re awake… p-pl-please… I… I only w-wanted to save my family. I’m sorry. You have to understand,” pleaded Haryk, now looking like a cornered animal.

“You don’t get it, do you?” sighed O’Kairyn. “They tricked you. Your family is already dead, rotting inside one of them while they parade around with their Essevi.” Haryk collapsed to his knees, letting out a hysterical cry.

“No! They can’t be! I saw them before…”

“Before you went to ransom me? That was probably the last time you were ever going to see them. Hope you made your good-bye a good one,” muttered O’Kairyn, still speaking in Tarian. Arms wrapped around his torso, Haryk could only shake his head over and over in disbelief.

“You… you’re lying!” he shouted as he lunged at O’Kairyn, who made no effort to stop the angry Imitari from grabbing the collar of his shirt. Unintimidated, O’Kairyn stared blankly into his attacker’s eyes.

“No, I’m not. I don’t lie. Unlike the Ordin, I have no reason to lie, and you know it.”

At this, they heard a spine-chilling sound.

Laughing.

Neither Imitari could stop their bodies from shuddering as they watched two male Ordin approach the cage, which was suspended in the air by a rope which was hung on a low-hanging branch.

“Getting friendly,” grinned one of the Ordin as he spoke in Common, a sneer crawling across his lips sadistically. “One last go around?”

O’Kairyn let a growl rise up in his own throat as he forced himself shakily to his feet. He barely had the strength to glare at one of his captors, but he knew he had to confront his fate. He had already accepted it after all, despite every desire to live.

“Shut up!” O’Kairyn spat in Common. His aggression made Haryk whimper and curl into a ball in the corner of the cage. O’Kairyn ignored this and continued staring into the massive brown eyes peering in at him. The cage had bars on all sides and left no place to hide; and the Ordin took advantage of there being no hiding place by reaching up and pressing their fingers on all sides to make Haryk cower. O’Kairyn, on the other hand, stood what little ground he could.

“Bold little one, aren’t you? I’d expect no less from O’Kairyn the courageous,” he stated as he pressed his thick, meaty finger against the bars. O’Kairyn shuddered, thinking about how those fingers would probably be one of the last things he felt squeezing around his body.

The pad of the Ordin’s finger alone was about the size of O’Kairyn’s head, which only sent more chills down the Imitari’s spine. “You’ll be a fun one, won’t you. You’re going to be mine all night.”

O’Kairyn’s heart was beating wildly in sheer panic. Provoking them would only mean more torment, but he needed to have what was, in his mind, the last word.

“You spineless, worthless lump. Get on with it! Or do you just talk big?” spat O’Kairyn in Common. The Ordin grinned and chuckled, sharing a glance with their companion, before walking away back toward a wooden cart pulled by many horses. O’Kairyn continued to glare at them, refusing to break away until he was sure they wouldn’t see him fall to his knees.

O’Kairyn’s breathing was shallow as his mind ran rampant, but thankfully his features didn’t give him away. Haryk, on the other hand, whimpered and curled in on himself, looking to O’Kairyn after a minute of muttering to himself.

“What are we going to do?” he asked in Tarian finally, swallowing dryly. O’Kairyn let his body slump while his eyes latched onto the etchings and sigils that helped seal him into this cage and disconnect him from his Essevi. O’Kairyn’s mind would have stayed on those etchings if it had not picked up on some other word – we.

“We.” He said to himself in their language, not even looking at Haryk. “‘We’ implies a group of two or more.”

“That’s… that’s what we are though… right?” asked Haryk.

“No. There is no ‘we’. You gave that up when you surrendered yourself and sabotaged me, getting me captured,” sighed O’Kairyn. The defeat was obvious in his voice, and he wasn’t trying to disguise it.

“But… you… you’re O’Kairyn the courageous. You’ve evaded and fought a dozen Ordin at once. You’ve smuggled hundreds of Imitari to safety. You’ve had to have some kind of…”

“Escape plan?” finished O’Kairyn, letting his frustration and anger well up in him, straining his voice. “Yes, but it was always contingent on me being free. I have no Essevi, so my connection is severed. I have no weapons; you saw to that. The only thing I have is you, and that isn’t much. Titles and names mean nothing in the end.”

Haryk, hyperventilating, could only clutch either side of his head and let the tears stream down his face.

“So… we… everything… there’s nothing we can do?” asked Haryk.

O’Kairyn thought hard about the question as his life flashed before his eyes. He remembered his older sister and younger brother. He had fond memories of growing up in the Cromirth, their own small town hiding in the leaves of the trees. It felt like paradise – an escape and a sanctuary. O’Kairyn also remembered the flames and the screams of his friends and other relatives, begging him to save them or to run and not watch what was about to happen.

If only he had listened.

He did stay.

He started enacting a plan to free them all, but not before witnessing the Ordin’s form of torture to the Imitari.

It was… unspeakable…

O’Kairyn knew in his heart this was his fate too.

But…

It didn’t have to be…

“There’s nothing I can do, but there is something you can do,” said O’Kairyn, clenching his fist so tight his wound began to bleed. Haryk looked up at him eagerly.

“Yes? What is it? I-I-I’ll do anything,” Haryk stammered.

With a deadpan stare, O’Kairyn looked Haryk in the eye and said two simple words.

“Kill me.”

Haryk looked absolutely mortified.

“W-w-what?”

“You heard me,” O’Kairyn said, turning toward Haryk. “Be honest with yourself and with me. They don’t know you from any other Imitari. Your death will be comparatively quick and painless unless they plan on using you again as bait for other runners like me. On the other hand, they know who I am. They know I have information they need to find our trails, and they won’t kill me until… Well… When they realize I won’t talk, I can at least hope my end comes swiftly.”

“W… No. N-n-no I… I can’t!” Haryk pleaded. “There must be something else.” O’Kairyn glanced over at his fellow Imitari with the same pleading eyes. His heart ached with the thought, but what other choice was there? Endure the fate to come?

“Please,” O’Kairyn said softly. “You put me in here. You resigned me to this fate. The least you could do for me is keep them from desecrating what will be left me. Haryk, lives are at stake. Imitari lives are at stake. If I break for whatever reason, the lives of runners and those they’re protecting are in danger. If you have a shred of dignity left… you’ll do this one thing for me.”

Haryk, hands clutched on either side of his head, shook violently as the severity of what O’Kairyn was asking of him set in. His head shook from side to side, unwilling to accept what was inevitably going to happen. O’Kairyn knew the look. It was the same look he saw in himself every time he left his home to fulfill his personal, moral duty of protecting other Imitari. O’Kairyn turned his body, clutching his injured arm close to his torso.

“Haryk,” O’Kairyn implored. “I’ve seen what the Ordin will do to me. My arm, here, is a fraction of what is to come. Please… don’t make me endure that too.”

The two Imitari shared a look, just a single look. It was one of finality and acceptance.

Haryk forced himself to his feet and stepped up behind O’Kairyn.

“A-a-re y-you…”

“Yes. Just… make it quick. If they see, they’ll stop you,” stated O’Kairyn stiffly. Haryk’s arm wrapped around his neck. Every impulse in O’Kairyn’s body screamed to fight. It was like his body had gained a mind of its own and began to tremble. Still, O’Kairyn mentally remained resolved and even managed a simple, “Thank you.”

The pressure around his neck began to increase. It was getting hard to breathe. O’Kairyn could sense Haryk hesitating…

But…

In that moment…

He was glad he did…

~~~^*^*^~~~

At that very moment, there was an ear shattering crack as if lightning struck directly from the heavens into the clearing; and, in a way, it did.

A searing, grey light shot out from the distant trees and set a crate of supplies ablaze, practically shattering the wood on impact. Both Ordin and Imitari jumped at the sudden attack, rising instinctually to their feet to face this unknown individual and their show of strength.

The two Ordin who had come to torment Haryk and O’Kairyn were the first to approach the flames, which were grey and burning with an unparalleled ferocity to any field fire they had witnessed.

“What do you suppo-” The first didn’t have time to finish his sentence because, in the same moment, a secondary flash burst through the darkened forest and began to burn him. He howled in pain and, in a blind panic, ran for the river.

Other Ordin turned and looked to the trees, now prepared for an attack. The second who had tormented the two caged Imitari stormed over and seized the bottom of the cage. In the meantime, Haryk had relinquished his grip on O’Kairyn’s neck while O’Kairyn had pushed himself to his feet. The cage beneath them jolted and they collided harshly against the metal bars.

“Where are your little friends hiding, huh?” he shouted in Common, making both Imitari wince and shy away from the booming voice. The other Ordin yelled at the top of their lungs and charged into the woods, swinging their weapons wildly high and low in hopes of revealing the Imitari responsible.

“Th-ther-re sho-shouldn’t be anyone e-else,” stammered Haryk. The Ordin’s dark brown eye squinted in suspicion. Another crackling bolt of flame flew past the Ordin in the woods and, this time, hit the cart with their precious “harvest.” In moments, the flames had engulfed the entire cart and ate through the ropes tethering the horses to it.

The Ordin cursed and charged after the horses, obviously seeing there was no saving the cart or their quarry inside. Despite their retreat, the onslaught didn’t cease. Three more grey bolts of flame shot from the depths of the forest and ensnared their prey, making the Ordin collapse and writhe as the flames ate away at their flesh.

Haryk, seeing this, screamed and clutched the edges of the bars. His family, every single one, was probably in that cart if they weren’t gone already. He sank to his knees in utter defeat as the Ordin who was holding onto their cage spat and stood his ground.

O’Kairyn, on the other hand, stayed kneeled on the base of the cage in awe.

Was this really happening? O’Kairyn didn’t know. What he did know rested in he saw moments later after three more blazing grey lights bolted from the forest to the remaining three Ordin who thought they had a prayer of escape.

A figure – a single individual – stepped from the cover of the woods.

There was a grey mask over their face and armor he had never seen before strapped to the frame of this figure. A hooded cowl rested over their shoulders and just barely over the mask. There were no eyes on this mask, but this figure didn’t need to see to possess the intimidating presence they brought with them.

Grey flames licked the edges of the armor and seemed to swirl around this individual. A single dagger clutched in hand, they crouched and directed their attention to the sole remaining Ordin among the group.

There were rumors… but to see it… to see an Ordin turning on their own, especially an Ordin with Essevi… to aid an Imitari… was overwhelming, breathtaking even.

The Ordin, seeing his fallen comrades, clenched his teeth and roared as he charged the figure with the jagged short sword in his right hand. O’Kairyn stumbled to the edge of the cage and watched as the figure crouched and, at the last moment, rolled toward the sword, sliding the dagger up the length of the blade before slipping it over the guard and slicing a thin strip from the top of the Ordin’s fingers.

The flames around the figure blazed brighter as the Ordin howled in pain and swung wildly, but the figure laid backward against the ground before springing up and in one, swift motion, shoved the dagger under the jaw until the tip cracked through the top of the Ordin’s skull.

The figure, standing next to the Ordin, was moderate in stature, but obviously more lithe. Letting the Ordin fall to the ground, the figure stood perfectly still before directing their attention to the small cage still dangling aloft.

This figure stepped up to the cage and stared long and hard at the figures inside. Haryk, now beside himself, skittered to the furthest corner while O’Kairyn could only drag himself closer.

“W-w-what are you doing? Get away! Murderer!” wailed Haryk. O’Kairyn forced himself to his feet to come face to face with this new Ordin figure. Unlike any other Ordin he ever faced, this one possessed an alluring presence. Also, unlike any other Ordin, O’Kairyn knew this figure’s name; at least, if the stories were true, he knew their name.

“Shena Dorra,” said O’Kairyn, barely able to draw breath as he stood near such a force. The figure simply nodded once before lifting their right hand and pointing at O’Kairyn’s injured arm. The Imitari knew without being asked what Shena Dorra wanted and obeyed without question. He forced his arm through the bars, clenching his teeth as pain twisted its way through his limb.

“What are you doing?!” shrieked Haryk, now speaking in Tarian. “It’ll bite off your…”

But before Haryk could finish his sentence, the figure, Shena Dorra, gently touched the injured arm with the tips of their gloved fingers. Haryk watched, paralyzed in fear, as O’Kairyn’s arm burst into grey flames, but O’Kairyn made no sound. Was it shock that O’Kairyn was experiencing? Haryk didn’t know.

All he knew was in a momentary spark of bravery, he leaned forward and grabbed O’Kairyn’s free arm and tugged him backward away from the masked Ordin surrounded by grey flame.

“Hurry! We need to put it out. We need to…”

“It’s okay. I’m alright,” said O’Kairyn, voice saturated in wonder. He rotated his left arm and watched the armor burn away while his arm remained untouched. The deep bruises and pain subsided as the flames seeped into his flesh, healing him. He directed his attention back to the figure, who was still just outside the cage and, in reverence, fell to his knees and bowed.

Haryk didn’t know what O’Kairyn was doing, but it was obvious he knew something about this figure. Following O’Kairyn’s lead, Haryk also sank to his knees and bowed.

“Thank you, Shena Dorra. Please, let me help you bring justice for my people. Use me as you see fit,” said O’Kairyn humbly in Common, keeping his eyes averted and speaking as though this were a prayer to the Spirits. How could he not? His once hopeless heart, which had accepted death, had been ignited once again, and it was because of this person.

Then, in Tarian, Shena Dorra replied.

“Keep at your good work and bring every Imitari to the West. Flee. Save and protect them. The worst is on the horizon.”

Their voice was low and sounded like the whisper of a crackling flame.

With that same single, swift motion, jabbed the dagger clutched in their hand in between the bars, breaking the lock in an instant. Their hands reach above and cut the rope keeping the cage aloft. Then, they lowered the cage to the soft earth below. Before turning and walking toward the still burning wooden cart, they scratch a few of the symbols and sigils with the edge of their blade, breaking the seal on O’Kairyn’s Essevi.

O’Kairyn went to step out of the cage when Haryk reached forward and grabbed his hand.

“What are you doing?” he asked in Tarian. “You’re just walking out there? With that other Ordin?”

“Yes,” stated O’Kairyn briskly.

“But… that Ordin has Essevi. That means…”

“I know what it means,” O’Kairyn interrupted. “But I also watched this Ordin attack and kill its own. They healed me. One of us had to die, yes, but they are protecting us with that ability now. I will take an Ordin turncoat over an Imitari traitor any day.” The comment was meant to sting, and O’Kairyn would apologize later. For now, there were more important things to do.

With that, he stepped away from Haryk. Connected once again to the extraordinary gift he possessed since birth, O’Kairyn stepped out of the cage, fearless in Shena Dorra’s presence, and watched as they sheathed their weapon and walked into the burning grey flames surrounding the cart. They began setting the cages trapping the Imitari inside just outside of the cart on the ground; and, to O’Kairyn’s amazement, every single Imitari was untouched by the fire.

He knew now that the flames were not only a diversion, but a deterrent. It was a defensive play, keeping the Ordin from entering and abducting any more lives. O’Kairyn worked frantically to break the locks and scatter the sigils keeping them hostage.

As he helped usher others away and guide them toward the stream for them to cross, he saw Haryk surrounded by individuals who he could only assume were his family. A smile tugged onto his face, relief forcing a clenching ache in his heart.

His eyes then turned to the woods just in time to see the fading grey flame of the figure vanish from sight.

Shena Dorra.

Grey Flame.

The Ordin Betrayer.

Guardian of the Small.

O’Kairyn wished he could’ve thanked them once more, but something told him this was not the last time he would see this individual. Though hundreds of questions surged in his mind, his heart told him that this Ordin understood that what was happening to the Imitari was wrong, and that justice would be swift.

More importantly, Shena Dorra’s words rang in his ears.

Bring the others to the West.

Save and protect them.

The worst is on the horizon.

O’Kairyn could only pray to the Spirits such things would not come to pass and wonder what Shena Dorra knew that the Imitari hadn’t discovered yet.

19 notes · View notes

reyesstrand · 1 year

Text

fic origin story

thank you for the tag @welcometololaland and @carlos-in-glasses <3 this is such a fun idea, lola!!

1. what was your first fandom (reading and/or writing)?

reading wise….probably teen wolf AJDNSKS and as for writing, i dabbled in fic for the magicians and movies like the old guard, but 911ls has been my first big love with creating content (and consuming it too!)

2. what was the first story you ever wrote (even if it was never posted) and what made you decide to write it?

i was one of those kids writing stories in dollar store notebooks at like seven or eight, and in high school i took every offered english class including a writer’s craft elective, so a lot of my early “stories” were just for school or for fun.

3. what’s a piece of advice you would give to your younger fic-writing self?

don’t feed into the monster that is imposter syndrome, create what you want to create, don’t get caught up in your idea of perfection, and read read read! i’ve always got both physical books and tabs upon tabs of fic waiting to consume, and i feel like it only helps you as a writer—whether it’s original work or fanfic—to absorb yourself in other people’s stories.

4. what’s an early fandom interaction that stuck with you (be it a nice comment, a friend you made, a fic that got a lot of feedback, etc.)?

almost every interaction i’ve had in the ls fandom has stuck with me and allowed me to curate the best experience possible, both just as a fan of the show and as a creator. my first lone star fic was a little spec fic written i believe right after episode four aired, and the fandom was still relatively small then and getting some of the sweetest comments from people i’m still mutuals with today makes my heart warm. those early comments definitely fuelled me to keep writing, just as much as those on my newer fics do. i’m also so thankful that me posting my silly little fics have allowed me to meet and talk with some truly amazing people every single day.

5. post a sentence or two from one of your older fics, and a sentence or two from a newer one (if you want).

from my very first lone star fic:

TK shrugs, though his mind starts racing. "We've...hung out a couple times. We're seeing where it goes, dad, I don't know if I'm ready for much else. It's just dinner."

Owen gives him a knowing look. TK sighs. He wants to open up to his dad and tell him about how Carlos was so unexpected. He wants to tell his dad that he has this way of seeing right through him, and they've known each other for two months and already feel in synch. There's that numbness that just clouds over him and being with the team and being with Carlos seem to be the only sparks of light he feels, but he doesn't want to let himself get hurt again — and he doesn't want to bring Carlos down with him.

from my latest, a 4x01 coda/4x02-4x04 spec fic:

TK sets his shoulders and shakes his head at himself. He slides the door open and steps inside, kicking off his shoes and dropping his backpack by the door. He hears Tommy's words in his head as he stares at Carlos' back, his fiancé focused on stirring the contents of a sizzling pan. You love him. He loves you. It's the undercurrent of everything they've ever gone through together, isn't it? That magnetic pull; that invisible thread that held them together. A love TK never thought he'd find but can't imagine existing without now.

tagging you back, @welcometololaland! and no pressure tagging @strandnreyes @iboatedhere @marwani-strickland @sunshinestrand @doublel27 @tailoredshirt @maxbegone and anyone else who wants to do this!

#tag games #my fic

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imthefemalemonster · 1 year

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Your fics are absolutely lovely. I wonder what gives you the inspiration to write such interesting pieces. And yeah, could you please do a Top!Rhaegar x Bottom!Ned (NOT ABO) story where for some reason Ned gives birth to twins (essentially Robb and Jon but they're Targaryen)? Like the pregnancy could be attributed to the hidden Velaryon bloodline they have when Cregan hid TemporaryAmnesiacLucerys or Rhaegar just literally bred Ned thoroughly stuff.

Hello honey! First of all, thank you so much, it's really touching to hear. Here it is, sorry it took so long, hope you like it. ♡

And to answer you... this is a such a good question. I don't really have an answer tbh, it's all... vibes? I feel like writing? I write. At the end of this shitty day, I put all my issues to the side and I read or write. I think that many of us consume content for this reason. As I mostly do requests, if my work can make someone happy a few minutes in their life, even if they are bound to forget it the next day, it makes it all worth it. I'm glad I can leave a part of me out there.

***

⸻Tell Me That You Mean It

Rhaegar Targaryen x Ned Stark (Mostly Fluff / Smut)

⸻Summary: A dragon and a wolf love story knows no end.

Tags: Fluff, Smut, Angst, (a bit?), Mostly Fluff, Unspecified Timeline/Settings, Young Adults Characters, Maybe OOC, (I don’t know the characters very well), Kisses, Hugs, Mpreg, Anal Sex, Aftercare, No beta once I sneezed 8 times in a row

⸻Read on Ao3

Notes: I got inspired to do something smutty and fluffy for the young Rhaegar/Ned relationship. Lots of fluff and fluff with some more fluff, little bit of angst too (?), mpreg not explained it exists because I said so. Requested by anon I hope you like it. ♡

REQUESTS CLOSED.

⸻Words: 2965

The wind brushed the leaves, air embracing the trees like tender arms around a body. A frail figure sat there, resting under the dance of the branches. Eyes closed, Ned focused on the sounds around him, breath steady.

“You left training without waiting for me.”

The voice came from behind him, accompanied by rapid and confident footsteps. Leaves cracked under the boots. Ned turned his head, cold face meeting with the young white haired man approaching him.

“You could just tell me if you didn’t want to see me…”. Rhaegar smirked, smug face as he kneeled next to his Stark friend.

Ned eyebrows’ frowned, eyes staring deep into the lilac orbs as if it was trying to decipher them.

“Oh relax”, Rhaegar laughed, hand reaching to pinch Ned’s cheek, “That wasn’t a reproach, merely a remark.”

Ned squirmed away from the touch, not without a shy smile on his lips.

“I was just tired.”, he sighed, “I wanted some calm, I found it here.”

“Uh, I see.” Rhaegar looked up to the trees, the beautiful features on his face emphasized by the daylight. Ned stared at them with great fascination. Often he wondered if the gods had created something more beautiful than his long-time companion.

“Starring again?”

Rhaegar smiled as he met Ned’s doe eyes. The Stark’s fingernails scratched the fabric covering his legs, drawing Rhaegar’s attention.

“Rumor has it, I do make you nervous.”

“I-I’m sorry?”

Avoiding the man’s burning gaze, Ned lowered his eyes to his feet,cheeks flushed.

“You are not usually like this when we are only together“, whispered Rhaegar, his voice both pained but comforting, “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing.” Ned breathed heavily, feet kicking the leaves, digging in the dirt.

“There are so many things in your eyes I can’t stop staring at them.”

Ned exhaled, lips curling into a soft smile. He nodded, not quite sure how to say it.

“So what is it?”, insisted Rhaegar, leaned in so his head aligned with Ned’s.

“Not much”, he breathed, the wind blew around them, pushing them against another, “It’s the people… looking at us.” He fled the lilac’s eyes, the words sounded so stupid spoken outside of his mind.

“Does that make you nervous?”. Rhaegar always looked so relaxed about everything. Like he walked a path of confidence and nothing or no one could unsettled him. His pale hand reached for Ned’s paler one, digits gently brushing the skin.

“Your hands are so warm for a winter boy.”

“It doesn’t make me nervous.” mumbled Ned, this time meeting Rhaegar’s touch with delight, “It was stupid but I still think about it.”

“It’s not stupid if it hurts you”, added Rhaegar, smug still on his face as his eyes were ablaze. Mischief crossed his face as his hand left Ned’s to meet his waist, fingers digging in the leather.

“What are you-”

“I prefer when you laugh, Ned”, he smirked, arms crossing around his chest, moving behind him.

“You are insufferable”, sighed Ned, his cheek meeting with Rhaegar’s nose.

“You like it.”

“Never said I didn- Gods stop!”, Ned bit his lips as he felt Rhaegar hands move around his waist and chest, “Tickling?! How old are you-”

“You are so sensitive… here”, Rhaegar’s fingers dug into the other man’s ribs, Ned emitted a short and surprised gasp as he turned his flushed face to the Targaryen, “Oh I love that face”, he whispered against Ned’s neck, air burning against the warm flesh. A wide smile was painted on Ned’s face as he wriggled around to escape Rhaegar’s playful assault. “Here too!”, the Targaryen shouted, digit pushing against Ned’s lower back.

“F-fuck off!”, laughed Ned, elbow gently hitting Rhaegar in the stomach.

“Oh.”

The two men stopped, Ned throwing a glance behind him, afraid he hurt his friend. Rhaegar just looked stupidly shocked.

“Who taught you that word…”, murmured Rhaegar leaning in so his breath imprinted on Ned’s skin, shivering under it.

“I wonder.”, he hissed, pushing his face away, standing up.

The Targaryen was a bit too swift on his foot as he followed the Stark’s motions, legs tangled together as they hit the floor. Rhaegar bursted out laughing.

“What the hell.”

“Gods! Another one?”, smirked Rhaegar, crawling his thin figure above Ned, “Got more words like that for me?”

Ned crossed his arms, falsely vexed. The Targaryen held himself on his hands, locking Ned’s body under his.

“What now?”

Rhaegar’s purple eyes wandered from the bottom to the top, slowly.

“Can I sit?”

Ned scoffed at the question. He was often overpowered by Rhaegar, there was little he could do to stop him.

“It’s not like I could stop you.”

“I wouldn’t force you.”, spoke Rhaegar, eyebrows raised, waiting for an answer. Ned nodded, a little sigh leaving his mouth as the Targaryen happily leaned in.

Smiling, Rhaegar rested on his elbows, hands maintaining his face above Ned.

“You look great like that.”

There was a long silence, a time of reunion and gazing as they stared both at each other face, their minds imprinting each detail like they would never see one another again. Words weren’t spoken, yet mouths were put to use. Rhaegar lowered his head to brush Ned’s lips, the man softly breathed, pausing a second, waiting for any kind of invitation. He was soon met with Ned's warmth as the young man closed the distance between them. Their lips collapsed as the wind blew in their ears, the coldness of it a perfect contrast of the hotness on their respective skins. Rhaegar took control, as he always did, pushing Ned’s head back onto the floor, his mouth capturing the bottom lip, tongue tracing the line of it until he was invited in. The men drown into each other embrace, the wetness and warmth of Ned's mouth tasted like honey on Rhaegar’s tongue. None of them could say how much time passed, they lost the ability to breathe the moment their bodies met, nothing else was important anymore.

Noises were heard around them, voices and footsteps. Rhaegar broke the kiss to look around, much less worried than Ned. The Stark grabbed his companion's leather clothes, pulling him closer, his fingernails scratching the fabric in newfound need.

“We should go.”, whispered Rhaegar, a large smile on his lips, focusing his attention back on Ned, “Or maybe you’re fine with being found under me in the woods but-”

“You don’t have to leave so soon.”, breathed Ned, face still standing close to Rhaegar, his lips wanting to capture the Targaryen’s again.

“I should. But join me tonight”, Rhaegar smirked, “Maybe I’ll show you something.”

The man got up, turning his heels away from Ned as he left, the Stark still sitting on the floor, watching his lover disappear behind the trees.

“I missed you so much.”

Ned turned to meet the voice he knew so well. The balcony was bathed in darkness, it was deep into the night already when Rhaegar arrived. Finally.

“It’s only been a few hours.”, commented Ned.

“And?”, laughed Rhaegar, “I still did.” He crawled to sit next to him, this time their shoulders met as he rested his chin on it, looking deep into the eyes staring back at him. “I did miss you. I always do.”

Ned was surprised, but he met the embrace with enthusiasm. Leaning closer he met Rhaegar’s lips again. It was more needy than the first one. Like they both starved for something buried deep within another, something that hadn’t been spoken yet.

“What did you want to show me.”, whispered Ned against Rhaegar’s face, their noses brushing.

Leaving his lover’s lips only a second, catching their breaths, Rhaegar moved in front of him, knees between the Stark’s thighs as he parted them gently. A soft gasp escaped Ned but he didn’t move, letting himself be manhandled to Rhaegar’s will.

“Will you let me show you?”

A confused smile appeared on Ned's lips, but he nodded, allowing Rhaegar’s touches to go further. His hands went to cup his face tenderly, thumbs grazing the skin, his eyes were cold but his skin was burning under Rhaegar’s palms.

“What is the status of us?”

The question cut the Targaryen short, standing still, trying to decipher the words.

“What do you mean?”, scoffed Rhaegar. He was too lost in the touches already to think.

“You know what I mean.”

Rhaegar shrugged his shoulders, fingers tracing Ned’s shirt, stopping on his waist.

“I fail to understand where this is going.”

“W-we-”, Ned mumbled, the words escaped him with difficulty, shyness missed with a certain feeling of shame, despite laying only in frail clothes in front of Rhaegar’s burning gaze, “We hang o-out. We ki-. I mean we-”

“Kissed, yes”, continued Rhaegar, hands on Ned thighs as his thumbs drew circles on the fabric.

“Then what are we?”, murmured Ned.

Rhaegar hesitated for a second. It has been so much time now. It felt so natural for him yet… yet Ned wasn’t wrong. What were they?

“We are…”, he paused, the words would never feel wrong, but he only realized now that he never spoke them, “We were friends, then very close friends, training partners, even closer friends”, in his mind he remembered all the moments, all the tenderness, all the first times, “We are two young men in love.”

“That’s what we are?”

“You are not?”, worries filled Rhaegar’s voice. What were they?, “In love?”

“You never said it.”

Rhaegar paused, eyes wandering on the younger man’s body he wished to show all his love to.

“Neither did you.”

Ned shook his head, lowering it as his fingernails pressed into the back of his hands. He was desperate to meet Rhaegar’s embrace again, maybe he should have never spoken.

“I know you are very keen on honor and this stuff-”

“It’s not that!”

The Targaryen stopped his motions, it felt like time did with him as he observed Ned's pained face.

“I j-just-”, he mumbled, trying to regain a sort of composure, his shoulders straight, rigid, face turned toward Rhaegar, “I just didn’t think you did.”

“You didn’t think I was serious all this time?”

“We hid, we ran away, we acted like… it wasn’t happening”, Ned raised his hands, shoulders shrugging in a slow movement, “It didn’t feel serious. It never felt real.”

“It always was to me…” Rhaegar leaned closer, lips kissing the Stark’s temple as his palm rested on his thighs. Ned immediately responded to his touch, arms crossing around the man’s chest, head resting on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry then.”

Rhaegar laughed, hands gently patting Ned’s back. The man moved backward, cheeks flushed and eyes tearing up, confusion filling them.

“What are you sorry for?”, mewled Rhaegar, lips brushing against Ned as he felt his smile, “For being in love with me? Uh, you’re not so wrong.”

“N-no!”, muttered Ned, head moving back, hands resting on the man’s waist, fingers shaking as they played with the fabric resting there, “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You didn’t, if that makes you feel better.”, Rhaegar’s digits played with the soft fabric on his collar, his eyes fixated on the little patches of pearl white skin he could see.

Ned nodded, the small smile on his face growing larger, observing Rhaegar’s gaze devouring him.

“So”, he paused, unsure, “About what you wanted to show me.”

“Hm”, hummed Rhaegar, the air tense around them, “I thought we could finally try… cuddling.”

“That’s how you call it?”, sighed Ned, lips painted back in a shy smile.

“You struggled to say that we kissed”, smirked Rhaegar, “I’m just trying to use your words.”

Ned laughed, raising a hand to muffle the sound.

“I mean you said ‘fuck off’ earlier”, commented Rhaegar, digits teasingly brushing Ned’s collarbone, “Maybe I’m being a little bit too naive about your supposed innocence.”

“I know a lot of these words.”, breathed Ned, “I just don’t use them like you do.”

An eyebrow raised, Rhaegar smirked gently. His kindness, his shyness, his patience, his tenderness, he wanted to possess it all. Hold him into his hands forever.

“If you let me, I’ll show you, love.” The words filled Ned’s ears, mind and heart like no other words ever did. He couldn’t say anything, he simply smiled and nodded as Rhaegar’s hands guided him to lay on the floor under him. The Targaryen moved above gently, steady on his knee, as a hand moved to cup Ned’s face.

“Am I being your first time?”, he whispered into Ned’s ear, learning over him, legs parted away above Ned’s waist.

The question was so genuine, Ned scoffed at first. Rhaegar’s usual teasing was replaced with loving features and gentle detail dancing on his face.

“Y-you are.”

Rhaegar stood up abruptly, hands raised in this air in a ridiculously exaggerated motion.

“Oh that’s making me nervous now!”

Ned scoffed, amused by the man’s humor.

“Come on now.”, he purred, “I don’t think you want to keep me waiting.”

“Wow My Lord…”, laughed Rhaegar, “I didn’t expect that from you.”

“Everything for you, Your Grace.”

Rhaegar scoffed at the name, lowering his body against Ned’s. They lips met once again, for what felt like the first time again. It was indecisive but loving, hesitant but soft. Both their shaking hands reached for the other’s shirt, collapsing, tangled as they discarded their clothes. The motions were clumsy, hips grinding against one another, wet lips battling noisily, moans exchanged as naked bodies rutted. Rhaegar lowered his head, dizzy with the warmth surrounding them, his mouth tracing the curves of the other man’s body, his lips wandering everywhere they could. Ned's figure shivered, jolting to meet with every of the soft touches. It felt just right, just where they both should be.

The air hit their burning skin, Ned gasped at the sensation, but soon he was taken in hand, handled lovingly. The strokes were slow but precise, the digits tracing the curves, lips meeting with the tender skin, teeth nibbling at the sensitive buds. Forehead pressed together, mouths collapsed, moans and grunts escaping the barriers of flesh. Hard members rubbing, fingers playing at one entrance. Everytime it pushed, Ned squirmed under the weight of the body above him, inviting him further in, reaching for the perfect spots inside. Rhaegar breathed softly, eyes hungry, gaze meeting with his lover. He wanted for any words, anything, a signal into the night that would seal this love forever. Hands on the back on his neck pulled him closer, lips collapsing in a hot and lustful embrace. His hands moved lower and lower, digits coated in wetness, rim inviting under the touch of his warm head. Lips brushed one another as he pushed in, feeding off Ned’s soft gasp. Rhaegar’s thumbs drew circles on his cheeks, encouraging words leaving his mouth as he possessed him whole, once, and for all.

“I love you.”

The days and the weeks went by. The leaves on the trees danced and changed colors. Ned and Rhaegar met again. In the woods. On training grounds, under the rain and on the sea. Everywhere they went love followed. Ned had invited Rhaegar in the coldness of the North, where his house stood. He had joined in great delight, wanting to discover the wonders of the region at his lover’s side. Maybe the cold could be a good excuse to keep each other warm every night.

“Can we stay like this forever?”, Ned whispered, sheets covering the naked pair. Fingers intertwined, palms meeting, they looked into each other's eyes. Something that was once buried deep down was now full grown, blossoming like spring leaves they once used to stare at for hours.

As desired as it was, the pregnancy still surprised them both. Ned the most, since he was the one bearing. The changes to his body were the hardest to deal with, the second were his dragon's constant worry at his side. Dare he left the bed, Rhaegar would rush to him, questions escaping his mouths and it felt like he could only but produce worry with his tongue. It had Ned smiling often, desperate to soothe his anxiety. They would walk together outside, Rhaegar would talk about the hundred things they could do with the little one, everything he would show him and teach him.

“I’ll be fine.”, Ned whispered softly, cupping his lover’s face. Rhaegar would walk ten thousand steps into the room everytime Ned breathed. His tenderness accompanied his companion in every motion as the months passed by.

“You can sleep, I’ll keep you both safe.”, Rhaegar murmured at night, waiting for his young lover to fall into sleep’s embrace. Watching his soft face rest at his side, cherishing every moment they had together until they were rocked by, to their grand surprise, two little high pitched voices calling for their attention.

The day of the delivery, Rhaegar refused to leave Ned’s side. Palms pressed together as the labor started. They encountered several complications but yet here they were. They. Twins there were, to the men’s surprise. Two little blonde figures, dragon's blood pulsing through their veins, much like their father. The room was calm as the little ones were cradled in their fathers’ loving arms.

“What should we name them?”

Rhaegar smiled, contemplating the two little swollen, sleeping faces. They had discussed that a lot, unable to choose between two names they loved much. Maybe fate did things well.

“Since we couldn’t decide… Why not use both?”

Ned observed the soft faces laying in their arms, unsure.

“That would fit for little Targaryen?”, he questioned, eyes raised toward Rhaegar who looked confident, like he always did.

“I’m sure it will.”

A smile appeared on the Stark’s lips as his face met the little foreheads.

“Jon and Robb, it shall be then.”

#rhaegar x ned #rhaegar targaryen x ned stark #ned stark x rhaegar targaryen #fluff #smut #fics #**mine #I hate sneezing

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