Our Own Choices

just met north star in undertale yellow and BRO HES MY FAVOURITE CHARACTER ALREADY THIS GUY IS GOATED THE WILD EAST IS SO FUN

Sharpshooter

Chapter 1

Warnings: None (for now)

My grandparents say that I was born in an unfortunate time. They always tell me about the old world, where we were allowed to go outside and breathe cool, fresh air, without the inconvenience of having to wear a cooling suit just to prevent ourselves from roasting in the heat. I don't believe them. For me, these are all just stories. Stories of a world long gone. 

"8 billion people used to live on Earth, you believe that?" my grandparents always ask, laughing slightly as if they don't believe it themselves. I definitely don't believe that. There's only 700 million people left on this doomed planet.

Some of my friends-wait, I only have one, tells me about how the richer people get transported to Mars while us poorer, starving ones, stay on Earth and wait for our chance to die.

Usually, when my grandparents launch into a full-on rant about the world before, I roll my eyes and slip on sunglasses just to hide the fact that I'll be sleeping for the next hour or so. These stories are meaningless to me. There's no point in clinging on to the past, when I have a family to take care of.

We used to live in Singapore. Sea levels were rising so much that the few transports that remained on Earth brought us to the interior regions of North America, at least the ones that haven't gone underwater yet. That's where I met my good friend, and eventually, scavenging partner, Mayday. He's about a head taller than me, and I'm already considered tall for a girl my age. He's got short black hair. Just like mine. And just like the other 300 million or so kids. Mayday told me that his parents named him that because they're trying to call out to the authorities for help, to bring them to Mars. It hasn't worked for the past 13 years of his life, and I don't think it'll work anytime soon.

Me and Mayday's families are quite close as well. We usually share whatever little food Mayday and I scavenged that day with each other, to ensure that we don't starve to death. 

On one of our scavenging trips, I find a knife and a blaster pistol. The knife's a bit blunt, but it's sharp enough to stab through dead fish or whatever I find in the ruins of the houses that are flooded to my waist. 

Everyone knows the stories of what happens to houses that get flooded. They get abandoned, and whatever wildlife that has managed to adapt to the temperatures tears them up, sometimes leaving nothing behind. 

After spending about a few months in North America, even with the cooling suits on, the air temperature has become too high. Mayday and I can only spend an hour, maximum, outside scavenging before we start to get burns and it gets hard to breathe.

The air conditioning in the "houses" that the authorities give us barely works. I can't even call those things that we live in houses. They're more of a group of tents sewed together and protected by a ray shield, which is the reason why we call the place we live in the Dome. It provides air conditioning, at least, for a few hours a day. The rest of the time, we rely on that limited cooling cream that Mayday and I scavenge to prevent ourselves from roasting to death.

We've been living like this for a few months now. None of us are getting used to it. We have one small screen in the only small area where tents aren't clumped together to watch the news. Usually, the one that stands in front of the small screen shouts the news out to everyone else crowding around.

Today, I squeeze my way through the crowd, it's easy because of my small size, and I make my way towards the screen, getting a good view. There, I see face of the man that always appears on the news when something important is going on, but I never remember his name because I have more important things to focus on.

The image of a globe projects onto the screen, and the man on the television turns the hologram of the globe until it shows a brown landmass.

"Antarctica," the man says. "We will be moving all inhabitants on Earth here. The temperatures here are lower than the ones around the world, so..."

I slip away from the screen and back into the crowd. I hear the people near the screen shouting what the man on the screen just said, and people are muttering excitedly, some cheering. I hate it when this happens. So much noise. I run away, pushing past people, back to my house where I tell them the news.

"The authorities say they're moving us to Antarctica," I say the moment I run into the tent, my breathing slightly heavy from the running. Mayday's in the tent as well, rubbing the ankle that he sprained on yesterday's scavenging trip. My family and Mayday all look up at me, before my family starts to cheer and Mayday remains silent.

I sit down next to him. "How's your ankle?"

"Could be better," he replies, and I definitely know something's wrong. He'd usually crack a joke or something.

"Nervous about going to Antarctica?"

Mayday nods, and I pat him on the shoulder. "That means new territory to scavenge stuff, which means there's definitely some fresh loot there."

Mayday looks up at me. "Antarctica's a barren desert. There's nothing there to scavenge."

"We'll find something," I try to sound confident, but after the stories I've heard of Antarctica, there's only a sliver of hope that Mayday and I could scavenge anything there. Antarctica's also full of wild animals. The ones that managed to get to Antarctica, at least. They're the real danger out there.

The next few days, transports descend from the sky and bring people to Antarctica in a matter of minutes. I'm guessing the transports are from Mars. The advanced technology there lets them travel fast. Really fast.

My family and Mayday's board the last transports after packing everything up. There's not much to pack, besides some of the old ration bars I found a few days ago and those gummies that hydrate us. Authorities give us about three of those per person every month, so we have to ration them. Can't forget about the cooling cream either.

When we enter the transport, we're greeted with a blast of cold air. Is this what Antarctica feels like? I'm shivering slightly from the cold, and it looks like everyone else is too. We're not used to this kind of temperature.

It's really cramped in here. I count about a hundred families with us. I hear murmurings going on in the crowd, and I'm pushed right next to Mayday.

We stand there in awkward silence, and I start sweating, somehow. It's not because of the temperature. Large crowds just make me nervous, and Mayday knows that. He puts a hand on my shoulder reassuringly, and I give him a small nod.

Thankfully, we aren't in the transport for long. In a matter of minutes, the doors open and everyone rushes out. My family and Mayday's are the last to walk out, with a lot of hesitation. 

The air is fresh. Cooling. Devoid of that burning smell of the ground. I scan the surroundings, and so does Mayday. Rugged terrain, with gorges that go so deep that if anyone fell in from above they would definitely die. The sky is navy blue. Clear. Cloudless. Not like the smoke-filled skies of North America.

We stand on a platform that descends into a deep gorge, where I see buildings. Not tents clustered together, actual buildings. They're inside a ray shield, just like the Dome, and I can only guess that it's not to protect us from the heat, but from the wildlife.

After we enter through a hole in the ray shield, it closes up behind us and we are, once again, in a crowd of people. There's a big screen, which everyone is looking at, and it's projecting the image of another man, who's dressed in what my grandparents would call a suit, even though I could not possibly imagine why someone would want to wear such a suffocating piece of clothing.

"You are safe here now, in Antarctica," the man says, and I start hearing people talking again. The man waits until everyone is silent before continuing. "No one goes in or out of the ray shield unless given specific permission to do so."

Mayday and I glance at each other with a knowing look.

"Enjoy your stay here, and good luck."

Good luck? What does he mean by good luck? 

As the crowd disperses and authorities lead others to their respective buildings, I turn to Mayday, and he turns to me.

"I've got a bad feeling about this."

SOMEONE GIMME IDEAS ON HOW TO ROAST CROSSHAIR

Cancelling The Apocalypse (My Star Wars X Ninjago X Pacific Rim fanfic) has hit 1k reads on wattpad

if yall like this go and read it pls my profile on wattpad is TBNR_Dream_BMGO

EPISODE 9 IS OUT AND VENTRESS IS BACK WOOOOO

SHE SAID “ive got a few lives left” IS THAT REFERENCE TO WHEN SHE DIED IN DARK DICIPLE N SHES STILL ALIVE??????

MAN I LOVE VENTRESS SO MUCH AND SHES A BLONDIE NOW??????

Sharpshooter - Only the Strongest will Survive

Chapter 2

Warnings: Slight mention of blood, profanity, weapons

One thing I notice about Antarctica: There's not much of a day. It's night all the time.

Me and Mayday's families choose to stay in the same block of houses, our apartments right next to each other. We choose the top floor to get a good view.

We're within walking distance of the ray shield. When we look out from the windows of our apartments, we can see it, the light from the moon shining on it, otherwise unnoticeable to the naked eye. Soldiers guard it. That'll make it hard to explore the terrain outside.

I notice that the apartments that we stay in are less well-furnished than the ones in the central area. And a lot less well taken care of. But, considering that I lived in a bunch of tents stitched together in one tangled mess, I can't really complain. Better to have a stable roof over my head than one that threatens to fall with every movement I make.

At least it's convenient to hangout with Mayday. His family's apartment is just a few steps away from my family's. 

After my family and I finish setting down our things, I immediately head over to Mayday's apartment. I only see his brothers and his parents there. I don't get to see Mayday's brothers very often, but I know there's five of them and they're all older than him. It must be hard to have 6 mouths to feed at home. It's already hard enough to feed one kid in my family. That one kid's me.

When Mayday's parents see me walking in, they tell me that Mayday's out, and I immediately go to look for him without saying anything, leaving the door open behind me.

The city is bright. Corners of buildings are illuminated by lights. The markings on the road are lighted up. A stark contrast to outside the ray shield. Outside's dark. 

Downstairs is crowded. Adults push past each other as they try to make their way towards the central area. Probably to get jobs. I catch sight of my parents amidst the crowd, but I make no move to alert them of my presence. 

One adult runs into me and the force knocks me to the ground. I can feel the rough black dirt-like substance that covers the ground scraping my knees.

"Watch it!" the adult shouts before running off, and I glare at him.  I get up and dust myself off, blood oozing out of the scrapes, and I wipe it away with my saliva because that's what I always do.

Why would they make the ground out of this substance? It's so easy for someone to injure themselves like this.

I keep a lookout for Mayday. And if I know him, he's probably in a place where no one would bother him. He likes the quiet. Back in the Dome, we used to hangout at the places close to the ray shield. No one goes there unless they want to experience the full-blown heat of outside.

I head into alleyways that are close to the ray shield, hoping to find Mayday there. I gave him my knife after our last scavenging trip, he usually cleans it for me. Maybe I'll hear the sounds of him scraping the blood off my knife. I don't know. My hearing's fairly decent.

Maybe Mayday's gone home. That's unlikely though. He doesn't usually do that until it's really late out.

And as expected, I soon hear the sound of rock scraping against metal. I follow the direction of the sound, and soon enough, I find Mayday leaning against a wall in a dark alleyway scraping blood off my knife and sharpening it. He doesn't need to look up before he knows I'm here. He can tell by the sound of my footsteps.

I lean against the wall next to him as I watch him scrape the blood off my knife.

"How long?" I ask. He knows I'm referring to how long he's been cleaning my knife.

"An hour," he replies, not looking up at me. 

"You know you don't have to do it for that long, 10 minutes is enough to get the blood off," I say, looking up at him. 

"And 1 hour's enough to get it completely off and sharpened," he says, handing me back the knife. It's even sharper than the day I found it. I turn it around in my hands, and then spin it, throwing it up in the air and catching it by the hilt. Then I sheath it into one of those metal sheaths for knives that I found on a scavenging trip not too long ago. 

Mayday smiles slightly when he sees me throwing my knife up in the air and catching it. He's seen me improve over the years. How I've accidentally cut myself a bunch of times trying to do that. Now I can do it almost flawlessly. 

I kind of want to hug Mayday for spending a whole hour sharpening my knife, but I know he doesn't really like physical contact, so instead I just give him a downwards nod of respect.

"You wanna go to the ray shield and scout ways to get out?" I ask. Mayday nods in response, and we run silently through the alley and emerge on the other side. 

We're still some distance from the ray shield, but the rest is open ground. We back up against the walls of the alleyway, taking care not to make a sound so that the soldiers guarding the ray shield won't notice us.

3 soldiers stationed from where I can see. One's sleeping. The other two look tired. Probably from being on duty the whole day. Mayday and I stand there for a while, looking for any disturbances or glitches in the ray shield. 

Nothing. It's stable. Not like the one back in North America. There were holes in the shield. So much easier to sneak out. 

After an hour or so of observing, waiting, for any possible way of getting out, we head back to our apartments for the night. I'm depending on Mayday to know the way back, because I forgot the way when I was looking for him.

Luckily for both of us, he knows the way back. He's got a good memory. 

Pure, unclouded moonlight fills the empty streets as Mayday and I walk through them. I look up. It's a full moon tonight. And somehow, tonight's moon isn't red, it's white instead. It looks so much cleaner. I stop for a moment to look at the moon, and Mayday keeps walking, knowing that I'll definitely catch up.

He's right of course, and after a few moments of analyzing the darker patches on the moon, I run to catch up with him.

"Took you longer than usual," he says, eyes fixated on the road ahead of us.

"Oh y'know, just distracting myself from that thing in the morning," I reply, not wanting to specify what "that thing" in case anyone's watching us, no matter how unlikely it may be.

Mayday nods, taking the hint. We'll discuss it tomorrow when we're amongst the crowd. We could try to look for some jobs tomorrow, just to earn some extra income, although we probably won't be able to get any, considering we're home-schooled, our parents passing them whatever limited information they managed to learn from our grandparents. 

When we reach back to our apartments, I give him a downwards nod before heading through the door. I don't get questioned by my parents where I was, they already know I was at the ray shield looking for ways to get through. That's what I did back in North America. That's how I met Mayday, actually. He mistook my footsteps for a guard's, and literally threw a knife at my head. Good thing my reflexes were fast and I managed to dodge though. The knife only sliced my shoulder.

When he found out he threw a knife at a 13 year old girl, he wordlessly went out to the flooded ruins and tried find something to wrap up my bleeding shoulder. Obviously, I came along with him, and we managed to find a mostly intact Hunger Games hoodie, he cut off the hood to wrap my shoulder. 

"Do you come out here very often?" I asked him, and he was a bit hesitant to reply. "Yeah. Every day."

Then we didn't speak for the rest of the day, just scavenging for things that we could use or sell for money. 

From then, we went out every day to the flooded ruins, and he slowly warmed up to me, speaking a bit more and cracking a few jokes here and there. We're a good team. Mayday's good with directions, and he taught me how to throw knives and use one in close combat. I'm the one who could had slightly heightened senses, slightly better than his. My hearing, eyesight, and sometimes smell. I could smell explosives in some of the flooded houses. That's when I knew not to go in them. 

Then when I found a blaster pistol and trained myself with it, I taught Mayday how to shoot it. The one piece of information that my parents passed down onto me was how to shoot a rifle and pistol. Line up the front sight with the back sight, and then aim at the target and shoot. I've gotten quite decent at it, although Mayday's still better at knives. He beat a fish to death with the blaster once.

I lay on the floor, the bed reserved for my sleeping parents. I stare up at the ceiling for a bit, before opening the window to get some fresh air and staring up at the moon again. It's gotten a bit red, like things are getting back to normal. 

I look across at the ray shield and down at the soldiers guarding it. A few of them are sleeping, but still standing up. I don't notice much, until the moonlight hits just the right spot, I see a small hole in the ray shield. Not big enough for adults to fit through, but definitely big enough for me. I don't know about Mayday. Maybe he can get through with a few burns.

I'll tell him that in the morning.

For now, I close the window and lay back down on the floor, closing my eyes and trying to get some sleep.

The uneasy feeling in my gut still hasn't gone away.

i think the clone operative is tech for a few reasons:

the tech turn when he lands the ship

the goofy ahh flopping onto the rocks

callback to one of the episodes where tech falls down a waterfall??

the limping

the frustration with technology and reliance on it

delusion

reasons i think it cant be tech:

crosshair said it didnt work on him cos he was defective so it wouldnt work on tech either cos hes also defective

reasons why its soup clone:

yes

Into the Dark

Chapter 3: Imprisoned

Word count: 872

Warnings: none! (for once)

When I open my eyes, everything's dark. I can't see anything. I'm starting to think I'm still out cold, but when I slap my face with my palm, I can feel it, so I'm probably awake.

Probably.

My metal arm is working now, I can feel my fingers moving when I flex them. Even though I can't see anything around me, I can sense that I'm in a room. I can just make out the faint outline of bars in front of me. This is a prison cell. And I'm the prisoner.

I'm constantly hearing whispering, it almost feels like it's coming from the walls around me. 

"CAN YOU SHUT UP?!" I shout, and the voices go silent for a moment, before I hear the whispering start again.

I can see black lines running up my body. They weren't there before. I instantly start scratching at them, trying to get them off of me. They refuse. I keep scratching, my skin is flaking now, and I'm causing more harm to myself than the black lines on me.

Eventually I stop, knowing that the black lines won't go away. I can literally hear them telling me that it's no use.

They feel weird on me. It's as if I've had them all my life, but they're only deciding to come out now. I can feel a tingling sensation on my skin, and I'm blaming the black lines for it.

My weapons are gone. Nothing to blast my way out of here with. I stand up and walk towards the bars, looking at the area outside my cell. There are many other cells, but they're all empty. I'm the only prisoner here, and guards are stationed outside my cell. 

I've broken out of prison before, but that was when I could actually see the stuff around me. I can't see 10 meters ahead of me.

I think been in too much war. I literally haven't even asked what is happening, like any normal human would.

What is happening?

I put my hands against the bars of my cell and try to look out further. I suddenly feel a strong force on my arms, and when I look down, I see the darkness from the bars spreading out to reach the black lines on my arms, and they connect, and they're pulling me in. I try to pull my hands away, but the darkness is too strong. It won't let me go.

Suddenly, a blade extends into my cell and cuts me free. I only get to catch a quick glimpse of the blade before it retracts again. It's black and has orange highlights on it which are barely visible.

"Okay, lesson learned, don't touch the bars," I say to myself.

I lean against the wall of my cell, sitting down. I recognized this as one of the cells from the Other Realm. I got captured here before, but I escaped with ease. This was one of the less secure prisons in the Other Realm, where they used to put the captured rookie mech pilots.

I press a hand to my forehead. My head hurts from all the voices that I'm hearing in my head. 

I look up to the bars. 

What are these things made out of? 

I think they're the same stuff as the black lines on my skin, based on how they connected with each other just now.

Some voices in my head are now louder than others. Some even project images into my head. One of the prison that I'm in, another of what the world has just become, and...me? In my cell? I look around, scanning my cell for any security cameras. There's none. How am I supposed to escape if these guys in my head can see everything that I'm doing? Maybe they can't and they're just trying to scare me from trying to escape.

"Don't bother trying to escape. We're watching you," one of the voices says. 

They can read my fucking thoughts now?

"Language," one of them says.

Shut up.

"No."

I swear if you don't shut the fuck up right know I'm gonna cut my own head off.

"With what? You have no weapons."

Am I seriously having a conversation with myself right now?

"Not with yourself. With us."

Who's us?

No reply.

HEY ANSWER MY QUESTION BRO.

No reply either.

I look down at my body. Ever since I arrived here my injuries from the past battle haven't been visible. 

I press a hand to where the cut on my face was in the previous battle. I can only feel black lines covering it-

WAIT WHAT?!?!!?!?

I remove my hand from my face and glance down at my hand, there's nothing. There's a tingling sensation on the area where the cut is. After a while, I decide to check the wound again.

I only feel skin and a few black lines.

Did those things just heal me?

"Yes, they did. Now you better get comfortable, because you're gonna be here for a long time."

I smirk. 

You don't know me. I can bet that by morning, I'll be outta here and on my way back to base.

hi guys imma start posting fics n original stories on tumblr

so i have a star wars x ninjago crossover, a bad batch fic, a pacific rim x star wars x ninjago fic, 2 unfinished original stories so yea

ITS SO CUTE AAAA

Ayo new bad batch reaction image just dropped