heads we're dancing

Republic City falls to the revolution, and the Avatar marries its leader.

Pairing: Amorra. (The abusive kind.)

Dark!fic.

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six

Here is your update before I go on holiday for a week! I’ll post about what will happen to the schedule then, because things get super busy after that point, I go back to school and many things begin to happen. (I made myself cry this time around writing this chapter, which is a change, I suppose.) Have a super long chapter, and I’ll see you all in a week or so! <3 u all

Korra snapped out of sleep as the door opened to see the familiar figure of Amon in the frame. “Good afternoon,” he said, nearly politely, as the door slammed ominously. She licked her lips, her mouth very dry. No food had come for a very long time. No drinks had come either, and her head was swimming.

“Afternoon,” she said. If he was playing the courteous role, then she knew this routine. It was how their lunches went, when he liked to pretend that they were seriously married for whatever twisted reason. However stressful this dance around the truth was, it was better than when he well and truly lost it and turned into that beast.

“Have you had some time to think?” he inquired, standing in the middle of the room. He wasn’t even doing anything and his presence filled the room to the point of being stifling.

“Yes,” she replied quietly, fiddling with her clothes. They were a good bit dirtier and nastier since she’d put them on. They were probably irredeemable. Not that she cared about clothes, anyway…

“Good,” he said, and then he just stood there, looking at her. Her skin prickled with the tension. The long silence was broken far after it had become uncomfortable. “Do you hate me so much?” he asked, merely sounding curious.

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Korra heals Tahno through the magic of chicken biscuits.

(So I made this ridiculous thing I’m sorry no regrets.)

Pairings: Tah(n)orra,
            explicit Tahno/Chicken Biscuits
            implied Korra/Chicken Biscuits

Korra wandered without any fixed plan, happily being the leaf. The streets of Republic City were quiet in this area, Naga’s paws thudding against the ground the only noise. She’d wanted to give Mako and Asami some time alone together while they adjusted to Air Temple Island, thus deciding to explore without destroying anything or beating anyone up: a sight-seeing trip.

Riding down a new road, the loud noise of her stomach gurgling cut across the quiet street. “Oh, canyon crawlers,” she said crossly. She’d forgotten to get breakfast before she’d gone out. Glancing around, she detected the delicious smell of chicken, and followed her nose. Moments later, Korra emerged with a bag of the oddest things she’d ever seen in her life—chicken biscuits. She’d tried one and had had to buy them. For once, she actually had money on her (Tenzin had begun on insisting, getting irritable reports from shop-keepers in the city) and there had been enough for four. Korra happily stuffed one into her mouth, riding along through the streets of Republic City and rejoicing in the delicious deliciousness.

She reached the park in no time at all and went looking for a nice spot to eat. To her surprise, Tahno sat on one of the benches, looking absolutely dejected and all alone. His hair lacked its usual snappy, flowing pizzazz and he wore no eyeliner at all, a worrying sign. Korra noted his sad appearance, frowned, and went to check on him. “Hey,” she said, standing there awkwardly. “How are you doing?” He looked up, and she saw to her shock that he was nearly crying.

“It’s 11:00, Korra,” he said, tears in his ice blue eyes. “I missed fast food breakfast.”

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To avoid spamming folks who are only in this for the fanfic, here are some asks I have received answered or addressed together under the cut. I love it when I get asks so much sdjsf’js’ffs#fs

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Right-o, folks.

On Saturday, I shall be leaving for a week on holiday to France. This means no updates for a week, because I’ll be leaving my laptop at home and devouring 30 or so books.

As a result, would you like an extra thing to make up for this gap? I both draw and write, and I write more than horrendously dark things (I also do humour! really absurd Pythonesque humour! and some other stuff too). You may request things Legend of Korra, any pairing you’d like, not a pairing, a specific thing, a general thing—“I would like both to be sitting on a red sofa staring into each other’s eyes while eating strawberry ice cream with smooth jazz” /”swimming”. Please feel free to drop me an anonymous ask if you don’t want to reply to this post or feel weird about your request, and I shall aim to get something done for Friday.

What would you like?

Republic City falls to the revolution, and the Avatar marries its leader.

Pairing: Amorra. (The abusive kind.)

Dark!fic.

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five

One day I will break free of this worrying monologuing trend. I don’t think that will be any time soon, you guys. Open rebellion! Lady friendship! Maybe a slightly lighter tone I DON’T KNOW OKAY I think some happiness happens I don’t think y’all are reading for fluffy puppies anyway

Korra unloaded the meagre information that she had to Asami; she made sure to mention the Dai Li. Perhaps she was clinging onto them because they were from Aang’s time. Somewhere in her, she thought it would be neat to use a force that Aang had encountered in his time for her rebellion. After all, she was coming from the opposite place that he had been, from within the very machine that she was fighting. Above all, their loved ones had to be safe. She’d given Asami a rough approximation of where everyone was, and the other girl had promised to look into getting them out safely. Korra wasn’t sure that she could survive anyone dying, at this point.

In all the excitement, discussing possible plans and allies, it wasn’t until she was back in the rooms again that she realised with a jerk that she had forgotten to ask Asami about what she’d said about her bending—it’s not permanent. It’s your head. That was a bitter disappointment. For a good hour she couldn’t stop turning it over. She had forgotten. Was she beginning to forget her bending? She couldn’t. It was such a large part of her.

Amon appeared only once, and briefly, to shower and tell her that tomorrow, they’d be making their first public appearance. After one moment of uncomfortable scrutiny, he left her to her own devices. She moved about the room, executing kicks and punches, feeling largely panic and some strange anticipation at the idea of being outside after so long.

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Republic City falls to the revolution, and the Avatar marries its leader.

Pairing: Amorra. (The abusive kind.)

Dark!fic.

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

I managed to update after all~ You guys, I wrote so many monologues in the first draft. Sometimes all my brain goes is MONOLOGUES! MONOLOGUES FOR EVERYONE! and I have to go back afterward and fix all these damn monologues. Anyway, here is your chapter five!

He had taken his time in what was a parody of romance; usually quick and brutal, this time he moved slowly, languorously, savouring.

She thought of other things. She detached herself from reality. She almost preferred it when he was angry and rough. At least that was over quickly.

His hands bruised her, pulling her in directions that made her feel as if her bones would break. His hands pulled her hair until it came out. His hands held her still.

A knock came at the door and he jerked angrily, his face twisted into fury. “What is it?” That tone was eerily calm compared to his expression. Korra shuddered at the thought that all the while his voice had been so cool and removed from emotion he’d been looking like that behind the mask. If she just had her bending, she’d destroy him. She’d burn him up properly.

“It’s important,” the Lieutenant said, muffled through the door. “Riots in the slums. There are benders involved. I could go myself, but it’s the third in the past two days—”

“No business here,” Amon interrupted, with a quick glance at Korra. He rolled off the bed and yanked open drawers, pulling out clothes. He dressed quickly and simply, slipping on the mask and pulling up his hood. With one last, dark look at Korra, who had just pulled up the sheets and curled up underneath them in her usual place, he opened the door and strode out of it.

Her jailor gone, Korra lay on the bed for the longest time. All her energy had disappeared, eaten up by fear and disappointment and loneliness and consistently crushed hope. Gently, slowly, she persuaded herself to sit up. That was one step. Holding herself, she swung her legs off the edge of the bed. Her feet dangled. Thoughtlessly, she kicked her legs back and forth, watching them move. She’d made contact with Asami. She’d begun to implement her meagre plan. It was okay to be afraid. There was hope.

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Republic City falls to the revolution, and the Avatar marries its leader.

Pairing: Amorra.

Dark!fic.

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

Hello my lovers, this is your chapter! I hope you enjoy it and I’ve been so happy with all of you up in my inbox being lovely people <3 It’s extra long too, over 4k!

Just a brief warning, in writing a panic attack from the point of view of someone who doesn’t know what’s going on I accidentally gave myself one (more than once, oops!). There is a form of a panic attack in this chapter, though it’s never explicitly addressed as one.

-

In the morning—or the middle of the night, or the middle of the day—Amon rose, using her to push himself up. The scratches she’d given him the first night were no longer as red. A fresh, feebler scratch accompanied them, bright red.

“I hope you understand that I’m displeased,” he said dispassionately, tossing the covers behind him. She pulled them over her head, and he yanked them back, an unusually vehement movement for him. Curling into the foetal position, she refused to look at him. “I thought that we were making progress, Korra.” Hearing her name was like a knife in her chest. She tried to breathe smoothly. “I was willing to make concessions, Korra. I was willing to allow some excessive behaviour in the first few days.

“Sit up,” he ordered, standing over her. Slowly, painfully, she acquiesced. With a firm grip on her chin—all alone and surrounded by Equalists, he came out of the darkness—he twisted the angle of her head to look at him, and when she refused to look directly into his face he tightened the grip until she managed to fixate her eyes on the scratches.

“You will never attack me again.” Resenting him, hating everything and above all afraid, she nodded with what little freedom of movement she had. “I don’t have time to discipline your friends today, but next time you defy me like this, I will have one of them killed. Is that clear?” When she nodded again, he released her as violently as to almost throw her away, and moved away as if nothing had happened. “Good. You’re seeing a tailor today so that you have clothes you can be seen publically in. You yourself, however,” he said poisonously, turning on the shower on, “are another matter.”

She stared at the wall uncomprehendingly, pulling the blankets over her head until everything disappeared from view and the world shrank to just her and the space between her skin and the fabric.

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