Because fate is a pregnant, wolf-tiger, Korra finds herself trapped in a cave with Tarrlok and Noatak as a blizzard rages outside. It was supposed to be a simple hunting trip. In her defense, Korra never intended to visit her uncle for spiritual guidance with the purpose of shacking up with her two former enemies. It just sort of happen. Like love at first time, except love is hate, and hate is inexplicable friction.
Noatak's proposal doesn't go over well with her. Her exact words can be summed up with, “Wait, right now?” Though more shock should be added to the pot, turned up to simmer. Tarrlok's reaction fluctuates a bit. He's mostly a spider-snake, shedding skins when it best suits him, and it's not certain whether his bafflement or fleeting smugness is the real facade. It's probably the most emotion he's shown in these last five years he's been in this mental hibernation to preserve himself.
“There aren't many other options,” Noatak replies, limbs stiff.
“Maybe if I had my bending.” She grits her teeth, shivering despite herself.
Tarrlok looks at her with a strong emotion, but it's Noatak who continues speaking. Ignoring her remark, he says, “No doubt you'll refuse my other proposal, but--”
“No,” Korra says.
Exasperated, he says lightly, “I wasn't even finished.”
“No bloodbending ever. You said so, remember?” She huffs, then adds, hands on her hips. “Okay.” When both men appear surprised, she sighs. No, it's not new ground, but this is something more than just scant moments of release. Then she thinks that, well, this is just basic survival. Instinct. No big deal. “I'm the Avatar. I'm not much use if I'm a popsicle, right?” You're not much good, anyway. At least you're better then them.“I guess I really have to take my clothes off, huh?” Out here, exposed in a new way—to the elements, not in the safe confines of a house, just a walk away from her cousins and uncle. Where they unknowingly harbor fugitives, men who escaped death by some stroke of chance, the grace of the moon.
She expects Noatak to say something snide. (It's nothing you haven't seen before.) He doesn't face her, but says with a casual shrug, “Our clothing's wet from the weather, so that would be advisable.”
Korra walks to Tarrlok. Even after all this time, he's used to the man with sharp features and a piercing, cruel smile. Not someone capable of looking even remotely doleful. She laughs to herself, tugging on the front of his anorak. “Oh man, if I get found frozen between two naked dudes, I'll never live it down. Or, uh, when I'm dead, in the spirit world.”
Tarrlok says numbly, “Still, I think you have my brother and I beat in terms of virtue.”
One sunny day, Arja does as many toddlers do and poops in the bath tub. Tarrlok freaks out, sobs at the sight of sullied porcelain, and drinks himself into a stupor like a good dad.
Korra gets angry at her failed airbending training--except for that one day she nearly blew Arja into the ocean--and she joins him. Anyway, they continue this for years after they fail as parents continuously due to the awkward plagues of author neglect and irony.
So, after these bouts of shared despair, they die of cirrhosis because they drank so much, leaving Arja embittered because nobody loves her. But luckily, Noatak is there to fulfill the role of the emotionally incompetent father to his disgruntled bastard child, and they spend time hating each other like all good families do. Then Meelo farts in his face and he dies, leaving Arja to lead the Equalist revolution.
In the end, Arja is alone and sad and has a huge headache, like I do right now. Don't say that I never update!
Summary: AU. When Amon and Tarrlok leave Republic City, they take the Avatar with them.
Rating: M for violence, mentions of suicide, and sex in later chapters
Threesome: Amorralok
Word count: 3,120
--
One morning, Noatak wakes up and feels as if he's run across an entire expanse of land. The Avatar is awake, which surprises him, since she's both sick and not prone to being up early. If she could, she'd sleep from dawn to dusk. Tarrlok is still asleep. Oftentimes, she will ignore Noatak, and he has to remind himself that she's an actual person, not the abstract concept he lived with for years when he thought of the Avatar. It's unnerving, so he doesn't dwell on it.
“You were having a bad dream,” she says flatly. He says nothing in return. She says nothing particularly venomous on that day--in fact, she says little at all--and that should come as no surprise. Without her bending and without those who care about her, the Avatar feels inadequate and worthless. He's told her so at the air temple and when he committed the deed: told her that she's nothing. He doesn't quite relent, and he tells himself that, logically, it's true. As the Avatar, she can't fulfill her duty, and she's practically worthless in that part of her life.
However, Noatak can empathize with that reliance on bending for self-worth. Perhaps it's juvenile and trite to compare it to consuming an addictive substance, but he can affirm that it's harmful to those who can't fight against it.
How surreal it is, to be in his position. He supposes it's the same for the other two travelers. But he's gone twenty-five years without his brother, and it's so tiring, so futile to dig himself into this mental rut of lies and past regrets. Best to act on what he knows; Noatak wants a worthwhile duty, and he doesn't want that while being separated from Tarrlok again. Of course, then there's the Avatar. His--prize, is that it? It's demeaning, but no, no, no use in confusing himself over that as well. She's the enemy, was the enemy, and she could do some good, learning how to work without fighting her way through with her unnatural advantage.
Should he delude himself into thinking he cares about her well-being, or is it a delusion at all? Ah, here come the mental battles again.
--
When they go into the village, there's a boy sweeping his front porch. The Avatar beams at the boy, and the kid pauses for a moment.
Despite how illogical it is, Noatak sees it in her eyes, that almost painful wishing. Wishing, yes, he knows how that goes. She's been forced into a new life, like he had been, except that Noatak and Tarrlok had a bit of choice in some respects, and none in others. She hopes that he detects that something's off, that's he's heard of the missing Avatar from the Southern Water Tribe. But the boy bows cordially and continues his chore without another glance.
The home they procure was the home of an old widow who passed away. The house laid neglected for a month. Surprisingly enough, it hadn't been ransacked through. The wallpaper is peeling, a bathroom wall is rotting, and yet it's still more inviting than their old home. Tarrlok comments that he's at least partially appreciative that their situation now includes an inside restroom.
The first argument in the house arrives quickly in the night, and Noatak shouldn't be surprised. He and Tarrlok have both tried to intimidate the Avatar in the past, and she didn't back down. Yet she had some backing then, her bending as a defense. A meek form of retaliation against experienced bloodbenders, but it was what allowed her to have her bravado. Now, she's sick and a nonbender, and his threats cause her to shoulders to raise. Still, after all that she's lost, she snipes and rebukes, even with her bouts of Tarrlok-esque sullenness. Indeed, maybe having nothing to further take away from her besides her life has emboldened her instead of ruining what fight he'd worked to snuff out. Huh, of course.
When Tarrlok was a prisoner, Noatak had restless nights, fearing that the transition would break his brother. Their father had made their worth dependent on heir abilities as benders, and Tarrlok already had a healthy dose of Not Good Enough before he even lived through a single decade. The Equalists' prisoners in the underground cells hadn't fared well.
In the beginning, after he'd perfected the technique on petty criminals and extortionists (men who may have later suffered or died from aneurysms under strange and terrible circumstances), there hadn't been much pity to run rampant. He reassured himself that they deserved what happened, that the city, his city, was safer. Funnily enough, he thought that before soon waging a massive war. Well, they all had made mistakes, not that Noatak will admit as much openly.
“We can't afford much now,” he says. The Avatar has her back to him. Korra tenses and grits her teeth. “I don't care what we're pretending to be.” He senses the pace of her heart increasing. “I'm not sleeping with you in any way.” She thrusts a finger in front of his face. “If you think I will, you might as well bend my brain out of my skull.”
“I never suggested that,” Noatak says lightly, holding one hand up. Yes, they lead this charade for the outside world, but within the privacy of this house--he hesitates to call it a home--he finds such a notion unpleasant. “I'll sleep on the floor.” He frowns at the rumination of sharing a bed with a petulant individual who hates him, her revulsion and discomfort radiating off of her. Furthermore, he'd never suggest any such of a thing under a roof he shares with his brother.
She watches him warily as he peruses the closet and takes out a threadbare, moth-eaten blanket and a limp pillow. Her fear suggests something deeper, more alarming. When he spins around, Tarrlok waits at the doorway, his countenance revealing nothing.
“Brother, do you really think I'd be capable of such an act?”
Tarrlok tilts his head to the side, his arms crossed languidly. “Capable or willing?”
Noatak's heart compresses. “In the Equalist ranks, a substantial number of women were forced into activities they never consented to. I've seen the effects.”
“Yes,” his brother says, “and we've seen how loyal you were to them. I'm certain their ability to trust hasn't been compromised any further.”
Noatak's pushed throughout their journey to ignore that topic: those who renewed their ability to trust-- almost exclusively in him. They are no doubt being subjected to judgment while he slithers away unscathed. Always self-serving. No, that hasn't always been the case.
“I swear to you, I've never done anything of the sort.”
Korra snorts, regaining a hefty portion of her gall. “Yeah, and you're Mr. Trustworthy, right? You don't seem to mind pinning me down and threatening me, talking to me like you own me. What do you want? A 'Not-As-Big-Of-A-Jerk-As-You-Could've-Been' award? Congratulations on not being a murderer or even more of a sicko.”
“I--” Of course he acted dominant to her. It'd been his place then. They were enemies, and his stance was that there was no place for benders in the ruling world. What was he supposed to do in the midst of battle-dumb himself down, “go easy” on her? That would be an insult to both of them.
“Save it,” the Avatar snaps.
“Noatak, believe it or not,” Tarrlok says, “but I truly don't believe you'd resort to such savagery, but I don't know the man before me. Perhaps your restraint is merely a tactic to impress me. I've only had the pleasure of meeting the boy who ran away all those years ago.” Of course, the implications sink into Noatak's mind: his brother knows Noatak, not Amon.
Korra glares. “Actually, you both have had the knack for treating me like a thing.” As if wounded, Tarrlok steps away from the door frame. Noatak doesn't know what transpired between the Avatar and his brother that night he woke up with them both gone, and he can't discern its impact. At times, it's as if she forgives him, but then she'll snap at him. Korra's outbursts have mellowed though, and Tarrlok seems especially driven not to aggravate her.
She sniffles. She's been sneezing and coughing and snorting back the snot the runs out of her nose.
“I don't want you to bend anywhere around, in, or on me.” As her comment sinks in, she looks away hurriedly. “Don't say anything.” She slides her legs under the covers and pulls them over her, as if they'll serve as a protective cocoon, flopping an arm over her head. At Republic City, she had her polar bear-dog in the room with her if she was lonely.
Of course, she doesn't even regard Noatak as a dog. He can't really say he deserve to be indignant about the whole thing. He'd be suspicious if she feigned goodwill, though he believes that, in the end, she will adjust. She seems to be a selfish person (not that he can judge, really), but Noatak bets that she won't risk the lives of those around her for a chance to escape. One can argue that allowing two criminals loose on the countryside is not responsible, but how many casualties would there be before Noatak fell?
Still, he can't earn her trust. The Avatar seems to respond exclusively to force. It's a fool's gambit to think he can "woo" her, so to speak; he's only ever won admiration through atrocities or lies.
--
Noatak dreams that he's running through snow. The sky is black, but he can't see it for the flurry of white around him. It's nothing special or trying; he's dreamed this a hundred times.
Yet it's different. He trips. Instead of an endless dash through the tundra as he struggles to breathe and manipulate the snow in his weary state (the snow never seems to yield to his bending in his dreams), it is almost gone. No flurry, and then he falls through the ice.
When he awakes, his world is ice--or cold water. He's soaking wet, the blanket and his clothes doused. The water leaks onto the wooden floor, drips over his hair. He can easily sling it away, but--what? The Avatar stands before him with an empty bucket in her hand.
“Sorry,” she says, voice not exactly laced with sympathy, “but you were having a bad dream, and I decided not to bother with the more comfortable methods.”
Noatak curtails his ire, and gives her an unsettling smile. “Ah, well, I appreciate your concern, no matter how poorly handled.”
She raises her chin, eyes dull. “You're an oily weasel-snake. I don't care if you're okay.”
“Did you mistake my previous threats as disingenuine?”
Honestly, he's a bit annoyed by the whole thing. In a way, he can't win. He contradicts himself by rebuking against the defiance and then his mood souring at the sight of sagging shoulders. Really, Noatak should know better than to expect that two people who have lost everything are exceptionally happy to shack up with the person who took their lives and threatens to give one of them an aneurysm if they escape.
Later that day, he announces that he's considering a job at the apothecary, and that the Avatar will have to come with him. He's mildly surprised when, instead of whining, she inches up closer to him. Noatak arches an eyebrow, and she says, “I don't really think you should leave Tarrlok alone.”
“Why?”
“He's really . . .” She pauses, as if measuring her words. “. . . down.”
“Unfortunately, there's little I can do about my brother's disposition. It's to be expected.”
“You could give him his bending back.” It's thinly veiled as a challenge, but he can detect her true intention.
“I can't.” Her eyes are searching. Ah, it has nothing to do with Tarrlok. “Even if I ever dredged up the desire to, the bloodbending is irreversible. In time, the transition will be easier for him. He's always felt guilty about how he's wielded his bending, so I've done him a favor.”
She doesn't have a hissy fit, but he can tell whatever composure she could garner is slipping. “You're a power freak. You can make it sound a pretty and noble as you like, but that's all there is to it.”
“You can't pretend to be above that allure, Avatar.” She scoffs and looks away hurriedly. When they depart, she sniffs and coughs, rubbing her nose on her sleeve. She shivers from the cold, and Noatak remembers that they're meant to be a married couple, yet he doesn't do anything to perpetuate the facade of two nondescript individuals who cared about each other. They are merely nondescript.
--
Noatak once paved his own path, though his brother insists otherwise. That it was fate, that they were their father's pawns all along, no matter their willingness. Whether or not the spirits ordained that, he can't say, but he does detect that he was fated to a new life of engaging in arguments and angering his brother and the Avatar. Sadly, all he wanted was a family, to regain what was rightfully his, what was stolen.
Now, he's rethinking the family part. He had enough power, and perhaps he could take a long, ten-year trip out to the village market before Tarrlok blames him for misplacing anything else. You always used to do this when we were boys, Tarrlok will say, exaperated, and Noatak has to retort, again and again to Tarrlok's disbelief, that he's never lived to make his brother's life harder. It was never his intent to have his brother steeped in perpetual misery. Tarrlok's complaints are often half-hearted, and he remembers the Avatar's words.
“Mother thinks that you're dead.” Tarrlok sits at the kitchen, not touching the tea Noatak brewed for him.
Noatak replies shortly, “Forgive me, but why should I care about her well-being?” That'll incense Tarrlok; he knows it before the words come out of his mouth.
Just then, Tarrlok ruffles, the lines in his face deepening. “She had no control of the situation, Noatak.”
He lays a palm flat on the table. “She was neglectful.”
“How dare you?” Good, good. This is better, much better. “You have no idea what you put her through!” Noatak doesn't have much experience with Tarrlok when he isn't a simpering or reluctant, tearful coward, but he prefers this ire over apathy and outright despair. In the past, his little brother never had the gall to argue with anybody. It was discouraged, beaten out of them with threats and insults.
“No, I don't. I only know what I experienced.” Noatak's gaze darkens, and they share a meaningful exchange, a tacit recognition.
“Our father gave up on teaching me . . . our lessons. He died shortly after."
“How? Did you kill him?” Noatak chuckles, brushing dust off the corner of the table. “I don't know why I asked that. You don't have it in you.” The room lapses into an uneasy silence. Tarrlok doesn't answer him, and Noatak doesn't mind because he's only sorry that he couldn't witness his father's death. Still, Noatak wonders what transpired between his brother and the Avatar on that night when he woke up and feared that they'd left him. It would be just like when he was a boy and abandoned Tarrlok. Just desserts, apparently.
It seems prudent that the Avatar would take to befriending someone who leaves their bloody stool for Noatak to step in at dawn. She brought a dog home, and the discussion goes to that.
“Get that mongrel away from me.”
“It's a dog. It has feelings too.”
“Does it?” he says bluntly. She huffs.
“It may very well keep her sane,” Tarrlok had said, and Noatak relents concerning his misgivings. No, they've both been alone for so long. Now that they're together again, why would one of them throw away their bond? Tarrlok glances at him with an accusation, but says nothing.
“There are crumbs everywhere," Noatak notes blankly, observing his surroundings.
After silence punctuates the air, Tarrlok says, his voice aching, “I thought you were dead."
Noatak inhales, a sharp intake of breath. No, he can handle anger; he can handle disappointment toward himself. Not this.
"You could've froze to death in the storm! Or maybe you did like Grandfather and walked to the edge and let yourself drown. I don't know what it's like to lose my first child."
Evenly, Noatak says, “When I left, it wasn't with the intention of hurting her."
“But you did. After Yakone died, I found her with those quilts she likes to make. The ones with that strange, thin yarn from the Fire Nation that she got from the city. She would hold one she made for you as she slept. I--I woke her up and folded them up, and she begged me to stop. I grew angry with her because--because it seemed like we couldn't heal." Tarrlok placed his head in his hands. "I threatened to burn them, and she began to cry. I couldn't treat her like that." He exhales. "The next time, I covered her up with the blankets. "
Noatak shifts uncomfortably, contemplates, then departs without a word.
--
He considers treating the Avatar with the same courtesy when she tosses about, in the thrall of a nightmare. Instead, he grips her shoulder, and she releases a short sputter of breath before opening her eyes.
The Avatar scowls and jerks away, rolling on her other side. “Don't touch me.” It's stunning how she argues the very moment she opens her eyes.
“Avatar, your acting as the innocent victim of misfortune is tiring, especially when you are responsible for many deaths.”
“And you aren't? But I-I never killed anyone!” Her eyes blaze.
“During the arena battle, there was a man you knocked off as you assaulted him and my lieutenant. We had to scrape him off the dome. He was still there, you know, after they closed the arena. A mess, even after the buzzard-crows had their fill.”
Her face contorts into something awful, then breaks. He hadn't heard the end of it from his lieutenant then. The Lieutenant had been angry with himself for allowing any casualties to transpire. To Amon, it was merely a product of war. As Noatak, he couldn't define one predominant emotion.
Amorralok-Secret. (Or are threesomes not allowed?)
Pff, would it be like me to turn down a threesome between my three favorite Water Tribe hotties? ;D Okay, so a plot I've handled before is Korra sneaking off post-finale and getting it on with them in the air temple, so I'll try another AU I like. Also, I kind of failed at the sexy I'msosorryforgiveme.
-
When Hiroshi made Kulitak his business partner, he certainly never did to get Kulitak into the sack with the Avatar. In fact, Sato was fairly grateful that Kulitak had introduced him to the Equalist agenda, a constructive effort to cling to in his time of loss. The man was an enigma, not seemingly thrilled about going to social events with pretty women speaking to him with a varying range of topics; then again, he didn't deter any chances if it meant some form of influence. He lived alone, childless and never having a longstanding relationship. It reminds Hiroshi of how Councilman Tarrlok operates, sans the excessive schmoozing, and he can't help but feel uneasy. But of course, the elusive pimp thing totally works for Amon, and it attracts all of the ladies and the Lieutenant.
But anyway, this isn't introspection; it's about Noa—uh, I mean Kulitak and Korra getting laid. Which is an easy enough task, but it gets complicated when Korra also brings Tarrlok along to some random apartment that will serve as our room of sort-of-love, but mostly sex.
And Kuliwhatever is somewhat ambivalent about having sex with a woman while his balls are rubbing against his brother's, and he's somewhat dismayed that Tarrlok was the one who wet the bed and then his dick turned out to be longer.
Barring their status as political enemies when he's in his Amon persona, it'd be awkward to meet up with his brother through rubbing balls if it wasn't for the plastic surgery that made him look like a completely different person with no inconvenient scarring.
It all turns out rather messy. Apparently, water is regrettably not a suitable lubricant. You'd think Noatultakwhoever and Tarrlok would know better. However, the clandestine affair works out great, they all come, etc., etc., angsty introspection that concludes everything on a somber note, and there will be more meetings in the future. That's it, sorry it sucked. Here's a cookie as a consolation prize for making it this far.
OK, so the mod over at Korra's Boyfriends sent me this:
Hiiiiiii! I'm the lady behind the curtain for Korra's Boyfriends, and one of the ladies trying to make Korra Smut Week a thing. I saw that you liked the post I made about it on korrasbfs and was hoping you'd be willing to help promote it (either make a post linking to it or reblog us) now that we have an official home for the week (korra-smut-week). We're trying to reach out to all corners of the fandom to help spread the word about unity and Korra sex and would really appreciate your help.
Of course, you don't have to know me for too long to know that I support a) fandom unity and b) Korra sex, so promoting this is a pretty fun thing for me. I've looked up the info for this, and here's the FAQ.
What is this?
This is Korra Smut Week, a shipping week with a smutty bent dedicated to the creation of art, fic, graphics, music, ANYTHING about the sexy and powerful Korra and her many loves!
Oh great another shipping week. Why should I care?
BECAUSE THIS IS A SPECIAL SHIPPING WEEK
This is a week to promote not a single ship, but all the ships! And to celebrate fandom unity and cooperation, as well as to pump us up in the run up to the as yet unannounced Book 2 premiere.
Also sex and hilarity and sexy hilarity.
Wait, all the ships?
ALL the ships, so long as they involve Korra. Twosomes, threesomes, confusing orgies (aka Korrgies), everything. And participants don’t have to be tied down to one ship all week - you can make something for a different ship every day if you want!
Also, if you don't feel comfortable writing smut, you can also just write clean shipping stuff. Smut is just highly encouraged.
You can suggest prompts here. The date is not set yet, but it will be shortly before Book 2 airs, since the intent is to get people excited for the new season (half-season?). From what I've read, it will probably take place in late March or early April, and the point is just to write about Korra having sex all week in correspondence to the prompts that will be given.
As I've already linked above, The place for info and suggestions is korra-smut-week. Honestly, Korra is a pimp, and I'd love some contributions about her lovely harem of men and women. Even if you don't like Korra, smut is still pretty great, right?
A Brighter Future | Amorralok Week #7: "Butterfly Effect"
So, old and weak in the knees, the bloodbending brothers explain and teach, and Iluq grows to understand, and it worsens his disposition. He becomes detached. He killed his mother, and nobody in his family can look at him without disappointment or remorse.
--
When Iluq is twenty-three, both Noatak and Grandpa Tarrlok have passed, and he’s married to the daughter of the Southern Water Tribe councilwoman. Holding hands in their lavish home, they jovially discuss the distribution of weapons and illegal substances amongst the city. It’s a trying lot, to control one of the largest crime syndicates in the world.
He touches his wife’s belly and smiles. All in good time.
