#Moose hide pins

[harmonyhealinghub]

Standing Together Against Violence: The Moose Hide Campaign

May 7, 2024

Shaina Tranquilino

In a world where the statistics of violence against women and children are staggering, there emerges a beacon of hope—a grassroots movement born out of Indigenous wisdom and solidarity: The Moose Hide Campaign. This powerful initiative rallies men and boys, alongside all Canadians, to stand up against the pervasive scourge of violence towards women and children.

The Roots of the Moose Hide Campaign

The Moose Hide Campaign traces its roots to a sacred journey undertaken by a father and son from the Carrier First Nation in British Columbia, Canada. In 2011, Raven Lacerte and her father Paul Lacerte embarked on a symbolic pilgrimage to heal the wounds of intergenerational trauma caused by violence against Indigenous women and girls. During this journey, they hunted a moose, and Paul made a commitment to carry a piece of moose hide wherever he went as a reminder of his responsibility to protect women and children.

Inspired by this profound experience, Paul and Raven Lacerte founded the Moose Hide Campaign, inviting men and boys from all walks of life to join them in solidarity against gender-based violence. What began as a personal vow transformed into a nationwide movement, fueled by the collective determination to create safer communities for all.

The Symbolism of the Moose Hide

Central to the Moose Hide Campaign is the symbolic significance of the moose hide. In Indigenous cultures, the moose holds spiritual significance as a symbol of strength, protection, and resilience. By wearing a piece of moose hide, participants pledge to honor and uphold traditional values of respect, love, and non-violence.

The act of wearing the moose hide becomes a visible declaration of one's commitment to stand against violence and to foster healthy relationships based on equality and mutual respect. It serves as a conversation starter, sparking dialogue and awareness about the prevalence of violence in our society and the urgent need for collective action.

Mobilizing Communities for Change

At its core, the Moose Hide Campaign is a grassroots movement that empowers communities to take a stand against gender-based violence. Through educational workshops, community gatherings, and awareness-building initiatives, the campaign fosters dialogue and collaboration among diverse stakeholders, including Indigenous leaders, government officials, law enforcement agencies, and grassroots organizations.

One of the signature events of the Moose Hide Campaign is the annual Moose Hide Gathering, where participants come together to share stories, learn from each other, and renew their commitment to ending violence. This event serves as a catalyst for positive change, inspiring individuals and communities to take concrete actions to prevent violence and support survivors.

The Impact and Legacy

Since its inception, the Moose Hide Campaign has made significant strides in raising awareness about the root causes of violence and promoting healthy, respectful relationships. By engaging men and boys as allies in the fight against gender-based violence, the campaign challenges harmful stereotypes and empowers individuals to become agents of change within their communities.

The impact of the Moose Hide Campaign extends far beyond its tangible achievements. It represents a powerful testament to the transformative power of grassroots activism and the enduring strength of Indigenous wisdom and traditions. As more individuals and communities join the movement, the Moose Hide Campaign continues to inspire hope and ignite a national conversation about building a future free from violence.

Joining the Movement

In a world where the epidemic of violence against women and children persists, the Moose Hide Campaign offers a ray of hope—a reminder that change is possible when we stand together in solidarity. Whether you're a man, a boy, or a supporter of gender equality, there are countless ways to get involved:

- Wear the moose hide pin as a visible symbol of your commitment to ending violence.

- Organize or participate in Moose Hide Campaign events in your community.

- Educate yourself and others about the root causes of violence and strategies for prevention.

- Advocate for policies and programs that support survivors and promote healthy relationships.

- Support Indigenous-led initiatives working to address the systemic factors that contribute to gender-based violence.

By taking action today, we can create a future where all women, children, and communities thrive in safety and dignity. Together, let's stand up, speak out, and make a difference with the Moose Hide Campaign.

www.moosehidecampaign.ca

[leth-writes]

wolf pack x reader who shifts into a large herbivore? Like a moose or an elk, or a bison? :3

🌌 anon

Wow, Galaxy anon! This idea is so cool!

Sam

You’re a caribou shifter. This limits where you can live heavily, as you need plenty of dense forest and lots of rain to hide your massive form.

Sam meets you when he spots a large caribou stomping through the pack’s grounds, and immediately notices how weird it is to spot a caribou so far out of their natural habitat.

When you spot the wolf the size of an SUV, you shift back to your human form, hoping and praying it’s a shifter as well. Your family is a lot more involved in the shifter community than the pack is.

Once he knows you’re a shifter, the dynamic is completely changed.

As a caribou, you have a calm, stern disposition. Sam really enjoys how your personality serves as a nice undertone to the loud chaos that makes up the pack

Loves going on runs together; you’re one of the only people he knows who can keep up, and definitely the only one he’s romantically attracted to.

Paul

You’re a bison shifter, representing your larger than life and easily riled personality. Similar to Sam, Paul notices you in the forest. Unlike Sam, he attempts to attack you to prevent you from harming his pack, thinking you’re just a rabid animal.

You immediately peg him as a shifter and charge, knocking him down and pinning him with your full weight before shifting back, telling him to yield.

Paul is IN LOVE. he adores you. He thinks you’re the best person he’s ever met. Please marry him.

Loves play wrestling, loves it even more when you kick his ass. He loves a strong partner.

Jacob

You’re a deer. He notices you while hunting. Unfortunately, he is able to sink his teeth into your flank, the pain causing you to shift back. Immediately horrified he’s gravely injured his imprint, he rushes you to the hospital, where Carlisle stitches you up.

As a deer, you’re quite flighty, easily scared. You have trouble trusting.

This combines into a perfect storm to mean Jacob needs to really make it up for you. He even becomes vegetarian for a couple of months to prove his dedication. When you finally forgive him, he feels the strongest sense of relief he’s ever felt.

Quil

You’re a reindeer, representing your regal and fun-loving nature. You actually introduce yourself to Sam first, well aware of the necessity to tell the local wolf shifters there’s a herbivorous shifter in the area. This is what allows you to be introduced to Quil, who loves your mischievous and playful nature, enjoying your penchant of giving personalized gifts and regaling them with the stories of your family.

Embry

You’re a moose. You absolutely tower over even the tallest of the wolves, your shifted form massive with large, thick antlers.

You have a calm, imperious personality, putting on a tough act. Embry slowly and methodically breaks through your walls to reach the sweeter, vulnerable personality hidden deep within.

You have plenty of experience fighting with normal wolves, and Embry gently play fights to help you break your antlers, helping them shed (you have antlers regardless of gender in this scenario, as your shifter species isn’t exactly like the actual animal). The rivers of blood pouring from your head do scare him quite badly at first, so he needs plenty of comfort.

Seth

They aren’t very large, but you’re a mountain goat. You have a superiority complex a mile wide, which Seth is able to disarm through his calm, kind nature. 

He helps bring you back down to earth when you can be a bit spacey, busy thinking about and longing for the mountainous ranges you enjoy climbing

It scares him so badly when he sees you just. Halfway up a mountain and sitting on a ledge. 

Loves hiking with you, making up for the fact you can go where he can’t follow when the two of you are shifted.

[gloomyteddybear]

why framing matters

oneshot

cw/tw: it's more of an attempt at blackmail than anything, small-town typical 'tudes, it is now canon that 'prey! ghost popped a boner! also, homestuck ashen quadrants in a non-homestuck FF yay! and they kiss in the end!

i got the brainworms rn. straight up researching dialects for a fictinal american man written by canadians. then i remembered the bastard moved around a lot so he prolly picked up some new words

n-knee-way. continuation of 'prey!, this time MC's pov!

the two main things about small towns is that 1: everyone knows somebody. there's few enough people to share your attention to without spreading it too thin, at the very least remember their face enough to feel sympathy. so if they die it hits hard; fewer people means that the odds are higher, it's like shooting fish in a barrel.

in small towns you are 1 in a 1000, while in cities the odds are rarer 1-100.000. in a such a cramped town where everyone knows everyone, to do that is either a sign that they're stupid, have an accomplice or a real attention seeker.

and 2: word travels fast; specially if it is a tragedy, gossip is like rotten carrion for the vultures--- specially reporters and journalists. however, theres a instinctual hesitation to point fingers, 'they'd never hurt a fly' can only do so much to quell distrust. yes, they'd never say you did it, still treating you like they always did, defending your innocence and sweeping accusations under the rug--- but there's still that way some people look at you, the boat rockers to be precise. they'd never say it to your face, thanks to your friends, but they know.

i-told-you-so's already curled in their tongue like trying to hide a bullet on open-not-hiding-anything hands, the anticipation made them dangerous, you just knew. the way one wrong step is all it takes--- how a frightened deer might dash its brains against a tree in the scramble to flee a predator; or worse, trigger fingers on cowards that'd flinch a 'ready, go!'-shot on the air and begin the racing stampede. mass-hysteria herd-mentality. 

your friends-acquaintances-neighbors they'd rather deny on one's guilt, at least until the truths staring straight at them... unless one's an outsider. you were born an outsider, sure you were conceived and raised here. but you'd never fit in.

but, jed, meek door-mat who was not even here for a fraction of your lifetime was accepted with open arms.

ain't that unfair? 

a boring, condescendingly soft-spoken man with one of those 'aren’t i so charming and genuine, please like me’ smiles already curling his lips, they don't know him like they knew you. he had time to perfect the act. he's a novelty-clean slate of a man.

you muttered to yourself, "what can you do? you win some, you lose some,” you shrugged in consolation, "life’s fair like that.” you clean the counter harder.

it's not his fault, rationally you know it. somebody's gotta win somebody's gotta lose. he's not the one that put the cheese in the maze, it's these 'small town neighbors' types that pinned you two against eachother (although, you admit, the bitterness is rather one-sided). you're not a sore loser--- but this...you're already on thin ice, this could shatter it. this is what it feels to come second. without the damn cheese you'd starve---but it's fine. could be worse.

so. jed-one, you-zero

then, worse comes. some nosy ghost thinks he can waltz into your special little picnic, the same ghost who've been making tensions run high with paranoia. it's already bad enough without all the pointing fingers.

but you choked him, he was smart-dumb about it. dumb in the way he stayed down and didn't react when you did, let you take your anger out on him or at least until you lose interest, you could've killed him. but smart enough to know that defending himself would make it worse. like encountering a moose or a bear. you'd crush his skull.

he popped a fear-boner. you think. maybe an actual arousal boner, that's why he groped the tiny-thin bones of your wrist instead of breaking them. and destroy the grass. that too. you judge only a bit--- figures, serial killers aren't the most well adjusted people in the world. and one with that type of crime-scenes, probably has some psychosexual issues going on.

he bumbled away from your grasp like a fresh-born fawn after. he needed-deserved that win. ghost: one, you: zero. ugh. but it was by the goodness of your heart.

a 'ring!' on the door-chime and a hoarse "hey, sorry hi." brings an end to your musings and delivers jed, who waltzes in when you're about to close for the night. sporting a shiny new turtleneck that you just know these damn granny's drool over.

jed notices you staring at the new fashion statement, he smiled self-deprecatively "i look way-too-much like a churchy in my sunday best, don't i?"

he could see the white of your eyes from all the glaring.

he winced, pursing his lips like he ate something sour "sorry- like, i also have a graveyard if that makes you feel better?" he smiles winsomely, like the brownosed lapdog he is

he makes his order and smiles, you almost stop yourself from slamming it on the counter "sorry again." he slips a crushed bill out of his messenger bag and doesn't stay for you to give him his change, at least he tips well.

when you finish closing down for the night, locking the back-door, jed was hanging out by the back entrance.

you already knew, despite his doormat demeanor he was just like you. dead eyes. he at least had the 'decency' to hide his horns.

but that didn't mean you couldn't pretend that you didn't--- act startled and hit him in your 'surprise', as a treat. it should at least cut down the sneaking-up-on behaviour straight from the bud. you're not going to encourage that kind of stuff, specially since your latest voyeur probably managed to get enough to blackmail you (but for some odd reason, despite his reputation---he didn't use it, yet.)

you swung.

you: one. jed: one. tie.

"oh fuck..." he breathlessly mutters, cradling his bloodied nose.

"jed!" you fake a gasp. and trotted towards him, fussing over him with the hem of your clothes to staunch the bleesing. not broken, good.

"there we go, it hurts still right? but don't you feel better without all that blood on your face?" you coo like you’re soothing a startled wild animal. the same way hunters soothe a rabbit in a trap, clicking their tongue and making soft, gentle sounds until they can get a good angle at it's neck. 

and that's what you did.

he sags, as if all the fight leaves his body, in that oh-so familiar way--- you'd wave it off as a fear response (fight, flight, freeze, fawn, flop), but... it scratches at a very lovely-fresh memory, raw, still. pink and new--- shoes skidding backwards to slam himself against the harsh textured wall, making you pin him down like a tack in a conspiracy-board. he fumbles around his torso- one hand still at your wrist, padding for the strap on his shoulder.

he manages to overturn his messenger bag, scattering polaroids all over the concrete. it's you!

not you red-handed during the act of burial (it makes you reconsider his identity again). but still some... not incriminating but definitely putting the last nail on line of nails on the iceberg--- just a small knock with a hammer, is enough to split that down the middle (these metaphors are getting worse and worse)--- you wont get arrested but people will take matters into their own hands.

not fully un-rightfully. because-yes, you're a serial killer, but also no: you didn't kill those guys, so you would probably get vigilante'd for the sins of- and as the ghostface.

still enough to be usable as blackmail, a tiebreaker.

you falter, and he takes the opportunity to use the gap in your hands to breathe. “do it.” he gasps.

did he want to die? "dont worry, it'll all be over soon."

"don't. want it to last." ah, no, masochism. damn, what do they feed these journalists? maybe the jokes about their tendency to get into trouble was right.

red-blue-magenta-mix lights creeps-in near the alley like the neon-sign of a shitty night club--- as if you could get burned, you instinctively press closer against that cramped little corner in the alleyway, squeezing in like you're trying to get a spot in the dark. a patrol car. not immediate danger but definitely bad. 

this was timed way too right, planned. he probably memorized their route like the chess-player he is.

you're not playing chess, though. you always preferred social-deduction games instead, the one where cheating people and lying is encouraged. the dirtiest trick of them all, you kiss him softly on the lips for good luck. you never said you were below underhanded tactics.

"don't do this to me." he growled.

you smiled, squeezed tighter until his eyes got all sleepy, and he passes out.

you run. as un-incriminating these photos of you are, these probably incriminate him instead.

your win. 

ghost-jed: two. you: two

you're evenly matched, joy, you have a playmate.

[somelokivariant]

FOR MY CANADIANS (and everyone)

TODAY - MAY 16 - IS MOOSE HIDE CAMPAIGN DAY

WEAR A PIN TO SUPPORT AND SPREAD AWARENESS OF ENDING VIOLENCE AGAINST INDIGENOUS WOMEN AND CHILDREN 🗣

POUR LES CANADIENS/CANADIENNES

AUJOURDHUI EST LA JOURNÉE POUR LA CAMPAIGN MOOSE HIDE

PORTEZ LE POUR SOUTENEZ ET PARTAGEZ L'HISTOIRE, ET TRAVAILLE CONTRE LA VIOLENCE SUR LS FEMMES ET ENFANTS AUTOCHTONES 🗣

[just-some-teag]

The Fallen Angel's Guardian Demon: Chapter 1

Thanks to @oculianilluvinial here on AO3 and @onemoregayapollokid on Tumblr for beta reading this. Please note that neither the emails nor the phone numbers for the characters work.

Please note this, as it will come up in later chapters: Angels and those descended from angels will have elf ears rather than none, and elf ears are prehensile like cat ears.

Word count: 2.9k

================================================

A few days after the most recent Extermination, a moose demon sits at a desk in her quiet office while she sorts through a stack of torn papers. Once she pairs two pieces together, she sadly sighs and writes down the name of the dead Sinner. The torn contracts are the usual for post-Extermination bookkeeping. Under the name of the lost soul, she adds some bullet points of the Sinners who should know of this soul's death. As always, the list includes the names of the souls she controls at the top and the names of the demons under the control of other Overlords so that she can write letters to their Overlords.

The office is fairly large, with more chairs than one would think is needed for a solitary Overlord. All of her furniture is made of Hell's version of mountain mahogany, with the chairs and loveseat upholstered with wool. A television from the 1950s sits in the back corner of the office, almost directly mirroring the cathedral radio on a shelf near the desk. A black, gold, white, and red Turkish rug lays underneath the majority of the furniture. It was a gift to the Overlord from one of her owned souls for keeping him safe from his abuser. An analogue clock hangs on the walnut panelling of the wall, ticking a soft reminder to the moose of the interview she wanted to watch: the Princess of Hell promoting something on 666 News.

The office isn’t the only room on this floor; a smaller conference room sits further down the hallway, with magical alarms that sit at odd intervals between the two doors. The sigils were laid by an old friend of the Overlords and made to trigger when an unfamiliar soul signature crosses over them without one of the staff with them. A useful gift that the moose is still trying to repay–even if the sigil maker has refused all repayment other than taking the souls that land in his territory that he knows she should have. It's an odd gesture, but it’s always welcomed. 

The Overlord’s eyes slide over to the analogue clock on her wall before heading over to the 1950s-style television and turning it on. It’s all she can do to hope the Princess can handle dealing with Katie Killjoy without being humiliated. The news broadcast intro music, and the program's name floats into view of the screen before fading to the blonde praying mantis and gas mask Sinners. A shorter blonde woman with bright red circles on her cheeks sits nervously in the interviewee's chair with her attention on a camera.

“Welcome back!” The shrill voice of the head news anchor cuts through the previous silence, causing the moose’s ears to pin themselves back to protect against it. “We’re here with the daughter of Hell’s head honcho, Charlotte Morningstar!” The shorter blonde woman on the screen seems to shrink into herself a little as she attempts to correct Katie Killjoy, but she is ignored. “Charlotte, tell us about this new passion project that you’ve been incessantly pestering our new station about!” The crazed look on her face doesn’t hide her inner thoughts, ‘ We’ve only accepted because you’ll bring more publicity and money to us .’

“Well,” Princess Morningstar takes a deep breath, bracing her hands on the newsdesk before speaking, “as most of you know, I was born here in Hell. Growing up, I always tried to see the good in everything around me, even during the darkest times.” A beetle crawls across the desk in front of the newswoman, who takes her pen and stabs it. The moose-demon’s eyes look towards her television as she hears the thunk of the pen, her eyes following the trajectory of the beetle guts to where it lands on the princess’ face and, for a moment, she hopes that the princess puts the insolent newswoman in her place.

Instead, she wipes it off with a mildly disgusted look and the tips of her ears becoming hidden in her hair due to her ears laying flat against her head before continuing, “Hell is my home, a-and you are my people. We… just went through another Extermination; we lost so many souls, and it breaks my heart to see my people slaughtered every year.” The princess’ face hardens as she says her next sentence, not even noticing that Killjoy has fallen asleep next to her, “No one is even given a chance!” She slams her hands on the desk with frustration written across her face, and her ears become visible again. The short look of shock at being woken up flashes across the newscaster’s face. She quickly dons a look of confusion as Princess Morningstar gets up in the middle of her speech and walks around the studio audience.

“So I’ve been thinking, isn’t there a more humane way to hinder the overpopulation of Hell? Perhaps we can create an alternative way to change souls through… redemption?” A camera follows the princess as she moves about the audience, and a small split-screen on the television shows the news reporters and the princess as she slides an arm across a Sinner's shoulders. “Well, I think yes! So, that’s what this project aims to achieve!” The camera follows her as she heads back to the news desk.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and everyone in between, I’m opening the first of its kind, a hotel that rehabilitates Sinners!” She looks so proud of her idea but gets no reaction from the Sinners in the studio. The moose demon hums thoughtfully at her desk as she thinks it over before nodding, grabbing a blank piece of paper, and starting to write.

“I can think of a couple of my souls who would want to get rehabilitated, and others, including them, who don’t deserve to be down here,” Ameillia says as she gets to writing a letter to the princess to offer her help with protection and new patrons. She keeps an ear trained in the direction of the television, waiting for what the Princess of Hell says next. When nothing except a small sigh comes from the television, the moose looks up. The princess looks self-conscious while no one says anything, losing what little confidence she had when proposing her idea.

“Y’know? ‘Cause hotels are for people passing through…” Running out of even more steam, she looks defeated, and the tips of her ears lower enough to be visible as they pass through the curtain of her hair, “temporarily…” The princess seems increasingly uncomfortable as she tries another time to get a reaction other than judging silence from the audience, “I think it’ll serve a purpose��� a place to work toward redemption… yay..!” Another demon’s voice comes through the television speakers, but it’s unintelligible right before the camera shakes and almost falls to the ground.

The moose winces at the now quiet voice of the Princess of Hell, finishing up the letter to her and calling the Overlord’s fastest messenger to take the letter to the princess and her associates. She returns to going through the stack of torn contracts and continues writing. When the princess’ singing voice and the piano sound come through the television speakers, the Overlord’s ears pin themselves to her head in secondhand embarrassment for the heir to the throne.

“Oh dear… you’ve chosen public ridicule for your advertisement, eh?” Her voice is soft as the messenger comes in and takes the proffered letter, “Take this to Station 666, hand it to either the Princess of Hell herself or an associate of hers. Hurry, they might be leaving the studio soon.” The messenger nods and takes off, the feathers on their wings making little noise as they rush out of the room to their launching pad. The princess’ song is still going as the moose heads over to the television to turn it off and then to her cathedral radio to switch it to the jazz channel to have something to listen to while she works. A short look of melancholy fills her face as she looks at the red and gold radio, her mind automatically going to her friend, the Radio Demon.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

An owl Sinner arrives at Station 666 as the Princess of Hell and her companion exit the building. They land in front of the two women and wait for the white-haired woman to be calmed by the Princess. The owl appears unphased by the sudden angelic spear at their throat, and they just hold up the letter from their Overlord.

“Vaggie, don’t! They have something to give us!” The princess nudges down the other woman's spear and steps before her, “I’m so sorry. Were you looking to join my hotel?” The Sinner looks briefly panicked before shaking their head, continuing to try to hand the letter to the princess.

“Princess Morningstar, my Sovereign Overlord, the Guardian Demon, would like to offer her financial support and guardianship of your hotel,” the owl speaks softly, moving forward a step as the princess’ limousine pulls up behind them. “Please read over her letter and respond to her post-haste. She’s over in the gated territory inside the Radio Demons district. No one will harm you, although, if you wish for more protection as you head to her territory, please contact the number enclosed in the letter to request her to send someone to escort you.” The owl bows deeply as they finish speaking, moving to the side as a small goat-like Hellborn goes to open one of the doors into the back of the limo.

“Uh—” the princess looks shocked to hear the Sinner speak to her so politely as she takes the letter from them. “Thank you for delivering this to me. Would you like a ride back to your overlord’s territory to get a small respite for your wings?” The owl smiles as they shake their head, looking fairly grateful for the offer.

“Apologies, Your Highness, I need to get back to my overlord as soon as I can,” they bow their head as the princess and her companion duck into the vehicle, “because I’ll need to deliver more letters to other overlords for her. Again, please try to contact her as soon as possible, Your Highness.” The owl Sinners’ wings open wide and take to the sky; the only indication they’ve taken off is the sudden gust of air rushing into the limousine. Vaggie watches as they fly away, a shimmer of sadness in her eyes that barely shows. The flying owl takes note of this as they fly away, making sure that they remember to tell their overlord.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

As the moose demon catalogues who she lost in the Extermination, the Princess of Hell, her girlfriend, and their one patron arrive at the Happy Hotel. The rundown hotel looks like a mishmash of different eras and buildings. Half of a pirate ship sticks out of the building near the bottom, and the crow's nest is connected to a whole mast that sticks up from the ship's deck. A carousel sits on the opposite roof; it passively runs with no music emanating from it. The trio slinks into the building. The white-haired woman slumps onto a nearly broken couch that faces a very clearly collapsed fireplace while the spider demon slinks to a fridge in the back of the entry hall. He digs around and pulls out a partially melted popsicle box.

“Eh, it’s probably a good idea to get some actual food in this joint,” the man speaks in a New York accent with a sarcastic tone as he waves a popsicle about, gesturing to the empty and rundown lobby. “Y’know, to feed all of th’ wayward souls ya got in here!” He forces a chuckle to try to make light of his hurtful statement, wanting to apologize as soon as he says it because of the princess’s face. He watches dejectedly as she leaves the room, knowing he messed up by saying that. “Angel Dust! What the fuck was that!” Vaggie angrily says from the couch, going onto her knees and turning around to face him, “You’ve already done enough to hurt her today. Why the fuck would you even try to joke about that? You participated in a territory war; thankfully, you didn’t actually kill anyone, and it was evident through the feed we had in the studio that you had taken drugs beforehand!” Angel has the grace to look chagrined at the scolding and moves to the other end of the couch.

“I know we went over this in the limo, but come on Angel,” she sounds exasperated as he sits near her, and she continues. “You’re here to at least try to get redeemed. If you continue to join territory wars, abuse drugs, and participate in porn, you might not be able to be redeemed. Charlie wants you to be happy, and you’re not! We can both tell that you’re not happy whenever you have to go to work, and you almost always return depressed.” The spider shrinks in on himself as she continues to lecture him. He goes to speak when the front door opens and closes again, a quiet thump coming from that direction.

“Charlie, sweetheart? Is everything-” Vaggie’s concerned question is drowned from Charlie’s hearing as a haunting knock in the rhythm of ‘shave and a haircut, two bits’ sounds from the door behind her. She startles away from the door she’s leaning on and turns to it, barely able to see the outline of the person behind it.

She cautiously opens the door, freezing at the red fabric filling her vision when she looks behind it. Slowly, she moves her head upwards to look the person in the face. Her eyes move past the white-lined red lapels of a blazer over a blood-red dress shirt, leading to a black bowtie with a scarlet oval-shaped gem in the centre. The princess’ eyes continue upwards, where she sees a sharp and yellowed grin before making eye contact with the crimson eyes of the person in front of her. A low static comes from him, becoming louder each second as she stares without saying anything.

“It is quite rude to stare, my dear!” because she’s staring terrified into the demon's eyes. Charlie doesn’t see his mouth move as he speaks, “Hello! It-” She closes the door quickly and retreats back to where her partner and Angel Dust sit.

“Vaggie, the Radio Demon-” she mimes the demon's large smile before continuing with her sentence, “-is at the door!” She groans with her hands dragging down her face before speaking again while sounding distressed, “What should I do?” Her girlfriend looks terrified while their one resident just looks confused.

“Th’who now?” The protests of Vaggie drown out his question.

“Well, don’t let him in! Who knows why he’s here?” she shouts, a tone of fear in her voice, and she’s clearly worried about what the demon outside has planned for the inhabitants of the Happy Hotel. “Why don’t we send Razzle or Dazzle to go get the Guardian Demon? She did offer to protect the hotel, and this would be the perfect time to ask for her protection. I know you don’t like fighting, and I don’t think Angel and I could subdue the Radio Demon if he’s here to hurt us.” Charlie looks like she’s considering it as a shadow seems to spread across the floor, taking up residence in the fireplace.

“Wait, wait, wait- the Guardian Demon approached ya two broads in th’flesh to offer protection of this place?” Angel Dust’s confusion switches to shock as he puts his hands in a T while he speaks, “She doesn’t leave her territory except for th’Overlord meetin’s or ta protect her people! How th’fuck did your broadcast manage to pull her from there?”

“Well, not in the flesh… But she did send one of her people to deliver a letter to me…” The princess pulls out the letter delivered to her by the owl earlier and opens it. The letter's length momentarily takes her aback, a bit shorter than what she expected, but she quickly skims over it. Her face brightens, and she smiles happily at what the Overlord wrote.

As Charlie takes out her phone and starts dialling the number on the letter with the extension, the Radio Demon sends out another of his Shades to go and invite his old friend to join him at the hotel. He’s barely paying attention to what the princess says on the phone, only noticing when the Shade inside the hotel alerts him to her moving back towards the front door after hanging up. He widens his smile as the door opens again to show the Princess of Hell.

“May I speak now?” He asks her, prepared to put on a show until his old friend arrives.

================================================

[1]: Dear Princess Charlie Morningstar of Hell, heir to the throne,

I’m known as the Guardian Demon and the Overlord of the Abused, so you can imagine that your project intrigues me in terms of what it can accomplish. I have many souls that don’t deserve to be down here, their only sin being that they killed someone in defence of themselves or others. I am willing to come to your hotel with these people as long as I’m able to participate in their rehabilitation and protection. I’m also willing to provide financial support for whatever charges my souls incur on you.

I look forward to hearing from you concerning this.

Sincerely, Ameillia Azaadi The Guardian Demon Overlord of the Abused (Signature: A . A)

Email: Guard.Abused.825@pridemail.hell Landline: +666 (632) 555-6958, ext. 825

[flintox]

Puny Prank.

"Stop squirming -" he hissed down at the micro snow leopard.

"Dude!" The corgi whispered. "Hurry up! I can hear them down the hall!"

"I'm trying - this little asshole won't stop squirm - there!" The housecat grunted, finally managing to pin the unruly little snow leopard under a strip of tape.

He took a step back and admired his handiwork. Freshman pranks were a time-honored classic, and in his humble opinion, he'd really outdone himself here. The cat couldn't help but smirk as he watched the micro freshman wiggle and squirm against the strip of tape, squeaking out some pleas, trying his best to break free from his confines within the extra, extra large jockstrap groin area.

"Come on, dude!" The corgi rushed.

"Right -" he closed the locker, making it look as close to how it was before they planted their little prankee. The two rushed away from the locker, hiding away in the adjacent locker area where they could covertly observe their prank unfold.

Down the hall, they heard the thumping of shoes and clanging of door. It was time.

"Do you think this'll work?" The corgi asked.

The cat smirked. "Totally."

The prank idea was simple, but it had layers. Tape the micro student inside the jockstrap and wait until the jockstrap owner arrives to put it on. The likeliest scenario was that the micro wouldn't go noticed until the strap was already on, after he got a face full of jock nuts. A subtle play on the old teabagging gag.

The other possible outcome was that he would get noticed beforehand, but even then they had a solid 2 to 3 minutes where the little guy had to dread the eventuality of getting a bit too close to the schools football team. It's not as good as the first possibility but still a prank nonetheless.

Eventually, the various members of the college football team sauntered into the lockerroom, and the two pranksters huddled back, observing closely.

A hulking behemoth of a moose walked up to the locker, and the cat felt his nerves on edge. The moose was a notorious figure on campus, known for having a short temper. There was a momentary fear that he might take offence to being party to this kind of prank. It's too late to back out now.

The moose opened the locker, and the two hiding pranksters felt their fur stand on end. The next few seconds would make or break the prank.

Very hurriedly, the moose slipped off his shorts and underwear. The two couldn't help but blush a bit at the sight. That large jockstrap size certainly wasn't just for show.

Wide smirks spread across their faces as the giant of a moose quickly slipped his feet into the straps and hoisted it upwards. Here it came, the payoff. The micro gets smothered under the jocks junk on his first day of university.

The moose pulled the strap all the way up, and the bands made an audible slap across his thighs. He put a hand down to the bulge and adjusted it briefly before reaching for his football shorts, starting to put those on as well without any reaction.

"Is he -" the corgi stammered. "Why isn't he noticing the freshman?"

"Crap--" the cat felt his throat dry up. "Why isn't he- he should be noticing him by now -"

"Dude. D-do you think the m-micro can move?" The corgi asked.

He tensed up. It hadn't occurred to them that this might happen. They didn't assume that whoever the jockstrap belonged to might be far too hung for a micro to even make themselves known under him. "Shit!" He hissed. "What do we do!? We can't just lea-"

"What are you two staring at?"

The two turned to see the moose standing over them, clad in his full football gear. They froze up. "Uh -" the cat stammered. "N-no?"

The moose grunted. "Weirdos." The antlered giant quickly grabbed his groin to adjust himself before walking off out of the lockerroom.

They stared after the moose, unsure of what they could do. After minutes of silence, the cat spoke up. "We- we just pretend this didn't happen. He's bound to notice them eventually.. right?"

"R-right." The corgi nodded.

[kariachi]

Reboot Taur AU ficlet. In which being a homeless child does not help your feet any, especially when you're a fucked up little menace.

~~

“Farriers hate him: local taur has worst feet imaginable.”

“Oh shut up, they’re not that bad.”

It would have been easier to believe him if they hadn’t already seen his hooves. None of the Tennysons really knew anything about hoofcare- well, Gwen’d read a book about ungulates once, that wasn’t enough to qualify- but you didn’t need to after a point. Eventually even people who had never seen a hoof before in their lives would be able to go ‘something’s not right there’.

The Tennysons had this moment about once a year, when it reached the point nobody could miss that Kevin’s feet were messed up in at least five ways.

Thankfully they’d at least reached the point by now that he wasn’t fighting them about it. He’d been hard enough to pin down that first summer, but now at fourteen he had to be six hundred pounds. Nobody wanted to have to wrestle him into the Rustbucket- especially with how much taller he’d gotten, he hardly fit as it was and probably wouldn’t in another year-and certainly nobody wanted to try to keep him from using the Antitrix to get his way. A scrawny, patchy moose was still a moose.

Still, this didn’t stop the niggling feeling that him just, letting them bundle him into the rv with nothing but grumbling, pouting, and rolled eyes was less a sign of growing maturity than it was of pain. When last they’d seen him he’d been favoring one leg and unsurprisingly vanished after the fight he and Ben had worked together on. He seemed more prone to that when he was hurt, hiding away to lick his wounds in private. But despite him no longer limping, his hooves looked worse, long and beginning to twist and heavily crack. They certainly couldn’t be comfortable and as soon as he’d seen them Grandpa Max had put his foot down and started calling around for a local farrier with a slot open.

“You keep telling yourself that, Kev. We’ll believe it when the farrier says it.”

~~

The farrier did not say they were ‘not that bad’. The farrier used words like ‘detached hoof horn’ and ‘digital dermatitus’. The farrier said he wasn’t limping anymore because he was lame on all four feet and put blocks on them all so the worst areas would have a chance to heal. The farrier insisted he be kept a close eye on just in case, at least until they could be sure that his feet were healed up and it good condition, and that he get new, prescription shoes.

Unlike his cousin and grandpa, Ben wasn’t above saying ‘I told you so’.

[lorene1voice]

I wore my red touque & top & earrings & pins to the #womensmemorialmarch #dtes #Vancouver My red dress earrings made by my friend Gladys. My red dress pin from my friend Michael, moose hide pin, and my yonsei (4th generation Canadian Japanese) in solidarity. At the March, a volunteer gave me the purple & yellow & button ribbon. Marching for the #mmiwg2s #nomorestolensisters #stopvaw https://www.instagram.com/p/Coq7HuEOV7-/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[mochie85]

So I saw that photo that was sent to you and decided to make you a drabble out of it to help you get through your car ride.

I wrote this on a whim so it might be sloppy but I hope you enjoy 💚

Summary: Loki accidentally reveals his Jotun identity during your time in bed.

Warnings: scared/anxious Loki but overall pure fluff. Has some sexual implications but are pretty much mild.

I dunno what title to use haha

You hum against Loki’s lips as you feel his hand cup the underside of your tit, his thumb rolling against your taut nipples. He holds both your wrists in a vice, pinning you down on the bed and your arms fight against his grip when your skin tingles in from the wake of his touch as he slides his hand down to your pelvis and to the apex of your thighs.

You then feel a chill kiss your heated body, making you bite on Loki’s lower lip by accident which causes him to pull back and look at you with concern.

“Are you alright, love?” He asks but you can’t find the words to say as you take in his image.

His pale skin is changed with a soft blue, with raised markings that cover his forehead, cheeks, and around his lips. His eyes are what you take in the most, gone are the emeralds you adored, replaced by rubies that shine beautifully down on you.

“My love,” He calls once more. “What’s wrong?”

“Loki—” You pull a hand free from his hold and reach up to caress his cheek, your thumb gently grazing against the raised markings that scatter on his face. “Y-you’re blue.”

His eyes then grow wide and immediately release his hold on you. He sits up on the bed and stares down at his hands, shock, and fear surrounding his face before he closes his eyes, and slowly, you see his skin change back to its former color.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” He bows his head and clenches his fists against his thighs. “I promise I’ll be more in control of—”

His words die on his lips as you move to straddle him and press your lips against his. You sense the worry in him, the trepidation that has sliced through his usual composure and it makes your heart ache that it’s because he’s shown the side of him that he constantly hides.

He’s told you of his origins, that he’s not born of Asgard and hailed in the land of frost giants. That he is one of the monsters Asgardian parents tell their children at night. Until now you’ve not seen what his people looked like until now and if you dare tell the truth, you see no monster.

You pull away and cup his face, your other hand softly caressing the side of his neck, thumb rubbing against his jaw in an attempt to soothe his anxiety.

“Don’t—don’t hide from me, Loki.” You whisper, pressing your forehead against his and you hum as you feel his hands frame your waist, fingers digging into your flesh. “It’s beautiful.” You look down at him and press your thumb against his lower lip. “You’re beautiful.”

You take his lips once more, wrapping your arms around his neck as his grip on your waist tightens. You sense him smile against your lips and you can’t help the moan that escapes you when you feel the chill of his hands once more press against your heated body.

WHAAAATTT?! This is AMAZING!!!

it was so sweet and so beautiful. The way Loki just wanted to hide that part of himself and your acceptance and...OMG...you need to write more fluff ma'am!!

I'm amazed at your range 🤩🤩🤩

@holymultiplefandomsbatman @lokisgoodgirl @xorpsbane @muddyorbs @fictive-sl0th @mischief2sarawr @holdmytesseract @vbecker10 @michelleleewise @sarahscribbles @wheredafandomat @gigglingtigger @lokischambermaid @loopsisloops @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @immersed-in-mischief @give-me-a-moose @theaudacitytowrite @lokiprompts @britishserpent

[charliedawn]

hello hello!! could i request the slashers with a s/o who's skilled in making drinks? like they're a barista so they know how to make certain types of warm comfort drinks like coffee, but they put their own twist into it?? ty! <3

You conquered him the moment you said "I can make drinks".

He may be disappointed to see that they're drinks with no alcohol inside, but a coffee is nice too.

He would take one in the morning and add his "special stuff" inside..which consists of a mix of all the alcohol he could find in the house.

"Thanks, peach. You're a doll."

Freddy Krueger basically lives on drinks and booze, so, let's say you're the main reason he's still standing.

Freddy : "I don't know where I would be without you.."

You *pretends to think about it* : "Probably under a bridge, passed out, two to three empty bottles of cheap booze around you..?"

He smiles before wrapping his arms around your middle.

"You really know me too well..."

They don't really need drinks.

But, if you add some human blood or animal flesh ? They'd be able to enjoy it.

Penny emptied his in a minute, but you really don't want him to drink coffee..His metabolism is very sensitive and one drop of coffee is equal to 2 cups for him.

Penny *climbing the walls and tearing paintings to shreds*

Pennywise *big sigh of resignation before climbing up after him* : "Come on, Penny. Get back down and drink some water or something.."

Pennywise is a little less sensitive. He'd take his coffee with his breakfast and just sit peacefully on the porch, sipping his blood coffee.

It doesn't do much to him, but it does relax him in some way.

"I like the moose coffee best."

Each of them have a favorite kind of blood and animal flesh.

It was odd at first, but you quickly got used to it.

Penny likes reindeer or rabbit blood and Pennywise prefers moose or wolf blood.

Fortunately, the hospital provides it all, but the smell can be a bit too strong sometimes, so do be careful none of it gets on you, or the Penny Brothers may accidently mistake you for a free drink/meal. 😅

Do not give Hedwig coffee. I repeat. Do NOT give this child coffee.

He'd be unstoppable and would make a mess, jumping up and down on the patients' beds, run around the hospital, open doors he is not supposed to open, jump on the electrical fence...

So, yeah, he can also be very sneaky when he wants to.

For example, pretend to be Dennis or Patricia to get his hands on a cup of coffee...

He's the reason Five hides his coffee machine.

He will also actually eat the coffee beans like candy and take a handful behind your back, providing him with enough energy to lit the hospital on fire.

This is why Patricia usually takes the light in the morning and doesn't let Hedwig out until you're at your coffee shop or out of the house.

Dennis and Patricia actually like coffee and each personality have different tastes.

This is why it was difficult for you to keep up at first, but it became easier when the personalities decided to create some sort of color code for you.

It means that if it's Dennis, he'll wear a red pin, if it's Patricia a blue one and you'll then immediately know who you're talking to and what kind of order you need to prepare.

But as I said: Hedwig is sneaky.

Hedwig *wearing Patricia's blue pin and running off with a cup of coffee* : "COFFEE IS THE BEST !"

Brahms would get some hot cocoa and ask for a tiny cup for his doll.

He would then sit quietly and not be a bother for a while, just enjoying his cereals and his cup of cocoa.

He usually likes a big amount of cream in his cup and would even ask you for the whole bottle of cream (he really has a sweet tooth..)

He would even ask if he can stay and learn.

"I like your drinks..I..I want to learn so I can make people s..smile.."

He noticed that your drinks usually make people smile and he wants people to smile at him like that..

However, your smile is the best.

He feels happy whenever smile at him and this is maybe what brought him to ask you out ?

He was so nervous the day he did and ordered 5 cups before finally asking you.

"H..Hey. Would you...Hum...You and me ?"

He may not have been very eloquent that day, but it was enough and he was so happy when you accepted.

Jason often wakes up early and always sees you up before everyone else, just to get what you need to make the slashers' their drinks.

He usually makes you breakfast to keep you company and does his best to help you.

Jason has a job as a lumberjack and this is why you usually wake up at the same time to go to your respective job.

Fortunately, your place of work is not so far from his, so you usually bring him his coffee during his lunch break.

He does come for a drink sometimes, but as your coffee shop is rather popular, he usually waits for you outside.

Jason doesn't like crowded places and prefers when you're both alone, this is why he usually asks you to make him a coffee in the morning or at night.

Actually, you met during one of your late shifts.

He used to come after midnight and take his coffee to go, but he eventually opened up a little.

He started enjoying your company and stayed to enjoy his coffee inside your coffee shop, sometimes to chat up with you (not that the man would ever actually start any conversation) or enjoy the comfortable silence while you would hum to yourself.

It was during one of these nights that he finally gathered up the courage to ask you out. (not without asking advice from the other slashers first.)

He's glad he did..

Arthur actually first entered your coffee shop after a heist, he needed to hide and decided to enter through the first door he found.

He was hurt and could barely breathe, but still succeeded in ordering a coffee.

You nodded before preparing his order, but then, he heard policemen enter and hid underneath the table.

"Did a clown come in ?"

He wanted to huff. A clown ? Really ? That was the best they could describe him ?

However, he doubted many clowns came in and was about to reach for his gun when he froze at your answer.

"No customer today. Too bad, huh ?"

He frowned. Why would you protect him ?

The policemen finally left and after a moment of hesitation, Arthur stood up and looked at you. You didn't.

You just prepared his drink and gave it to him with a wide smile.

"Here. Enjoy."

He looked at the cup of coffee in his hand and frowned in incomprehension.

"Why didn't you say anything ?"

He finally asked and you only shrugged.

"The police doesn't pay me. You do."

He smiled too before taking a sip of his drink, closing his eyes at the taste of bitter coffee mixed with cinnamon.

He didn't forget you and came back afterwards multiple times until he finally asked you out.

Arthur is one of those people who really don't like mornings.

He doesn't want to glare at you, it's natural.

He's grumpy until he get his morning coffee.

Don't panic if he start mumbling to himself or stare at you, he doesn't even notice when he does it.

However, a smile would grace his features as soon as he would have his coffee in hand.

He likes a hint of cinnamon in his, it adds to the flavor.

"Thank you, darling."

Michael will not ask you, as he doesn't really need to.

You know what he likes and he spends most of his day just reading with a cup of coffee next to him.

He will sometimes ask for a refill by raising his hand.

Michael doesn't like using his voice and he will make sure not to.

When you first met, he was actually surprised that you didn't force him to talk, but gave him a piece of paper to write what he wanted.

You became his favorite barista after that and one day, he actually asked you for a piece of paper.

You thought it was to order something else, so you obeyed without asking any questions, even though you were surprised as he wasn't exactly the type to try something new.

He seemed almost nervous when you came back and he scribbled something before giving it back to you.

Your eyes widened when you saw what he had written down.

"Date ? Yes. No."

You couldn't help but smile and blush before encircling your answer and coming back with his usual order.

Let's say..You and Michael did go on a date and it didn't take you long to warm up to the silent giant.

Norman usually makes his own coffee, but one day, his coffee maker broke and he had to go somewhere else to get his drink.

He crossed the street and went inside your coffee shop and was welcomed by your radiant face.

"Hello there ! What can I get you ?"

Norman remembers having ran out of the coffee shop as quickly as he had entered.

He was almost immediately smitten with you.

It had taken him a few days before coming back, and you still welcomed him with a bright smile.

"Well well..Look what the cat brought back in ? I hope you're not going to run on me again ?"

He nodded sheepishly before sitting down and ordering a coffee.

He didn't wait long and you came back with his order, but Norman was surprised to find you had added something else.

"...Caramel ?"

You smiled and winked at him.

"Yup. Thought you would like something a little sweeter inside ?"

He blushed and nodded.

Since that day, Norman came by everyday and you started talking.

It was rather surprising for Norman who usually wasn't much of a talker, but it was easy with you, and you sure did make the best coffee in town.

Five was actually looking around for a good coffee shop when he found yours, after many disappointments.

He was grumpy and only wanted to enjoy a good cup of coffee and was even rude to you the first time you came to take his order.

Five : "Coffee. Black. 1 sugar."

You : "Well..You look more like someone who would enjoy it with milk and a spoon of chocolate powder ?"

Five : "It's because I'm a kid, is that it ?!"

He snapped, but you only arked an eyebrow quizzically at him before turning around and preparing his coffee.

When you came back and he saw chocolate powder on top, he looked up at you with clear murderous intent in his eyes, but you only addressed him a knowing smile, putting your hands on your hips.

"Taste. If you don't like it ? You can keep glaring at me all you want."

He rolled his eyes, but still gave it a try out of curiosity.

He was surprised.

He actually loved it..

"So ?"

You knew from the look on his face only that he was regretting his words, but he only shrugged.

"Yeah...It's good. I guess.."

It was the best cup of coffee he ever had actually, but his huge ego didn't allow him to say it.

However, he kept coming back afterwards and didn't even ask what sort of coffee he wanted, letting you choose.

Five didn't take much time to fall for you.

Your coffee being one of the main reasons why he did.

Coffee is an art for Five, either you're talented or you're not.

He could feel your enthusiasm and your good heart in his cup and this is why he decided he would only come to you for his coffee.

Plus, you don't treat him like a kid and can support his harsh personality.

"You. Me. Date. Now."

He didn't even let you answer before taking your hand and teleporting you both somewhere a little more private.

Five is not a patient man and when he wants something, he rarely accepts no as an answer.

However, the best decision he ever took ? It was to walk inside your coffee shop.

[raewritez]

For the Want of the Sun | Chapter Five: Wild Turtle-Duck Chase

Avatar Masterlist

Zuko is prone to obsessions. When we were little, he was obsessed with theater. He would never admit it now, but he spent many hours convincing me to act out his favorite plays with him. We’d perform for his mother, or for Iroh, and he was very much a theater kid.  When we left, it was honor. Everytime we talked it was honor this, and honor that, and “I need to regain my honor!”. He still has that obsession, now, maybe even moreso. And on top of that, he’s now obsessed with the Avatar.

We are sitting at dinner when Zuko receives a letter. “The Avatar’s on Kyoshi Island?”

I can’t help but groan and roll my eyes. We’ve been chasing the Avatar for weeks now, to no avail. Everytime Zuko hears that he’s been sighted somewhere, we sail for hours and find - shocker - that he’s already left. Zuko stands up from the table, leaving his dinner untouched.

“Uncle! Ready the rhinos. He’s not getting away this time.”

“Are we sure about that?” I mutter.

Iroh looks at him, and then to the steaming fish sitting on his plate. “Are you going to finish that?” He asks.

Zuko snatches it off the table. “I was going to save it for later!” He storms out, and Iroh and I stare after him. When he’s out of sight, Iroh slouches in his chair. He sighs.

I try to cheer him up. “Maybe he’s really there this time.”

He peers at me from the corner of his eye, pinching his nose. “Perhaps. But Zuko is going to wear himself out at this rate. It is nothing but a wild turtle-duck chase.”

I nod. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s kinda funny though.” He stares at me blankly, and I clear my throat. “Sorry. I’m gonna…I’m gonna go.”

—

It’s early morning when Zuko calls for me, summoning me to the deck.

“The Avatar’s on Kyoshi, Y/n. I want you to come with me and the soldiers to apprehend him.”

I yawn, stretching. “Yeah, yeah, I know the routine, Zuko.”

“Good. We’re almost there, get ready.”

I dress up in my normal armor: a terribly uncomfortable thing with an embarrassing flare. It is maroon and black, and there’s spikes on the shoulders, supposedly to make me look more intimidating. I just think it makes us look like moose, but to each his own. I make my way to the ship’s entrance where Zuko is, and climb onto a komodo rhino. I pet it, cooing, and Zuko sends me a weird look. The ramp falls open, and Zuko speaks.

“I want the Avatar alive.”

I follow him out and onto the sandy shore, soldiers following suit. He leads us into the village, where people run into their homes at the sight of us. I feel bad, as always, and I look down.

“Come out, Avatar!” Zuko yells. “You can’t hide from me forever!” The street ahead of us is empty and barren. Zuko turns to the soldiers. “Find him.”

They disperse, the rhinos’ feet pounding against the ground. It is still for a moment, and then there is a cry. Several girls all dressed in green and decorated with elaborate face paint pop out from the shadows, leaping in front of us. From their robes they pull out fans, swiping at the men. At the abrupt entrance of one of the girls my rhino bucks up, startled, and I fall to the ground.

“Ouch,” I groan, rubbing my back. A girl advances towards me, fans and arms raised. I sigh and stand, looking at her. When she doesn’t stop moving, I resign to the fact that I need to fight, and I wait until she is close before moving.

I extend my arm and she meets it with her own, blocking my swing. We do a sort of battle-dance, each of us aiming for the other before being blocked, and I make sure to carefully avoid the sharp edge of her fans.

“Not bad,” the girl says. “For a Fire Nationer.”

I grin. “Thanks. You’re not bad either.”

She smirks and ducks under my arm before grabbing it and pinning me to the ground. I groan and raise my legs, kicking her off of me. I stand again and wait, and she comes running. Then, I place my fingers on the back of her neck, pressing into her skin, and she falls to the ground unmoving.

I pant. “I’m really sorry about this,” I say. I start running backwards. “Don’t worry, it’ll wear off in a minute!”

I run around the corner, finding Zuko fighting off some of the girls. He slams one against a wooden pole, and knocks another one to the ground. “Nice try, Avatar, but these little girls can’t save you.”

“Hey, over here!” I turn around and see Aang, standing at the end of the street and holding his glider. He catches my eye and waves. “Hey, Y/n!”

Zuko growls. “Finally!” He raises his hands, flinging two fireballs in Aang’s direction. Aang ducks and uses his staff to propel the fire away from him, ascending gracefully into the air. He goes over me and lands in front of Zuko, who kicks the staff out of his hands. Instead, he picks up two fans that are lying on the ground beside him. He spins around a few times and releases a gust of air at Zuko, who is thrown into a nearby building. I cringe, and watch as Aang runs by, picking up his glider and soaring through the air. I walk hesitantly over to Zuko, who is groaning. He pushes himself onto his hands, and falls back down.

I extend my arm to him. “Here.” Instead of grabbing onto my hand, he swats it away.

“I don’t need your help!” He yells.

I bring my hand back, holding them above my head. “Ok, ok. My bad.”

A bellow sounds from above us, and I see the flying platypus up ahead. Sitting on top of it is Aang and the two kids from the Water Tribe: Sokka and Katara. Zuko points to the sky and calls out to the soldiers. “Back to the ship! Don’t lose sight of them!” He stands up and brushes past me, running towards the ship. I throw my hands up, exasperated, and follow him, although much slower.

When we make it back to the ship, the Avatar’s pet is a speck in the distance. Zuko runs up to the deck. “Hurry, after them!” he calls. The ship roars to life, and it creaks as it turns. The water churns around us and we spin around, beginning on a straight line onward.

Iroh arrives on the deck, looking to Zuko with a question in his eyes. When Zuko only grunts he turns to me, and I shake my head. He sighs.

—

A few days later, and no sight of the Avatar. We’ve been sailing pretty much non-stop, stopping occasionally to pick up supplies or refuel. Now we are stopped along the coast per Iroh’s request, enjoying the scenery.

“This is ridiculous,” Zuko says, walking beside me. “We don’t have time for this! Every minute we spend here is a minute that the Avatar can use to get away!”

I look over at him, walking up the hill. “I’m sure the Avatar takes breaks, too. Relax a bit.”

“Relax? How can you say that? The Avatar is getting away, we need to-”

“We need to catch up to him. I know!” I groan. “That’s what we’ve been doing for a month, Zuko.”

“Yeah, and we don’t have him yet. He’s obviously skilled in evasive maneuvering.”

I laugh. “I don’t think Aang is evasively maneuvering us. He’s not the best at staying undercover.”

Zuko scrunches his nose. “Aang? Who’s Aang?”

I stop walking and turn to him. I raise my eyebrows. “Are you serious? You don’t even know the name of the person you’ve been trying to kidnap for the past three years?”

“It’s not kidnapping, and - wait - how do you know his name?”

“Um, he told me?”

“When?”

“When I brought him to his cell. That day on the ship.”

“You talked to him?”

“Yes? He’s cool.”

“He’s cool? Y/n, you can’t make friends with the Avatar.”

I send him a look. “Ok, I’m not friends with him, we just had a conversation.”

“You were fraternizing with the enemy!”

“For like three minutes! Anyway, he’s a kid, Zuko. Not some evil general that’s trying to kill us. We’re the ones chasing him, remember?”

“Yeah, for good reason!” Zuko’s annoyed now. “You do realize he’s the Fire Nation’s greatest threat, don’t you?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Y/n.”

“What? I’m just saying, he’s not really doing anything other than running away from us.”

Zuko glares at me and scoffs. “You don’t get it.”

“I do get it, I just think you-”

“No, you don’t get it,” he says. “I shouldn’t have expected you to, you’re just a servant, after all.”

The humor in my voice dies out in a second. “Right,” I say. “My apologies, your majesty.”

When I look ahead I see that we’ve reached the top of the hill, and I walk briskly away from him. He hurries behind me. “Wait, Y/n, I didn’t mean-”

“Oh, nephew!” A voice calls. “Care to join me?” Iroh sits a distance away in a hot spring, lounging in the warm water. Zuko looks startled.

“Uncle? What are you doing? We need to move on, we’re closing in on the Avatar’s trail and I don’t want to lose him.”

“You two look tired,” Iroh says. “I think a soak in the hot springs would be good for your troubles.”

“My troubles cannot be soaked away!” Zuko yells. “It’s time to go!” “You should take your teacher’s advice and relax a little. The temperature’s just right. I heated it myself.” He blows steam out of his nose, creating a veil of mist across the water. I bite my lip to keep from laughing.

“Enough! We need to leave now. Get out of the water!”

“Very well.” Iroh stands and I abruptly look away, shielding my eyes.

“On second thought,” Zuko says, “Why don’t you take another few minutes. But be back at the ship in a half-hour or I’m leaving without you!”

Zuko storms off and I follow behind him, far enough away to keep some distance. I smile looking up at the trees: they are my favorite shade of orange. The leaves crunch under my feet and I hear Zuko walking down the hill, his frustration radiating off him in waves.

—

A few hours later I hear a knock at my door: short and urgent. I walk over to open it and see Zuko with a distressed look on his face.

“Uncle’s been captured by earthbenders,” he says.

My eyes widen, and my chest swells with worry. “What?”

“I went looking for him and he was gone, and the rocks at the hotspring were bent upwards. Come on, I’m going back to look for him.”

I nod and run inside to grab my shoes, and I follow him out of the ship. We retrace the trail back to the forest, where his rhino sits waiting for him.

“Do you have any idea where they took him?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No, there was nothing here when I came.” He climbs on top of the rhino and gestures for me to follow, and I climb on behind him. We travel for several minutes before something catches my eye, and I point.

“Look, a sandal! Is that Iroh’s?”

He hops down and picks it up, and then raises to his nose, sniffing. “Ugh! Yep, that’s Uncle’s.”

“Ew.”

He climbs back up in front of me and we move again, the leaves falling around us in a veil of ochre and mahogany. After a few minutes of silence, he speaks. “I’m, uh, sorry about what I said earlier. About you being a servant. I know that’s not all you are.”

I’m surprised at his apology, and I raise my brows. “Oh. Um, it’s ok. Don’t worry about it.”

Zuko continues in a softer voice. “You’re not just a servant to me, I mean. And I know you know about stuff…I mean, you’ve been travelling with us for three years, and I don’t want-”

“Zuko. It’s ok,” I tell him, thoroughly confused. He’s never apologized for our arguments before, so why now?

He sighs. “Ok.”

The rhino’s feet crunch against the ground. “We’ll find your uncle,” I say. “I promise.” He nods, and raises the reins to move the rhino forward.

A while later, a shadow passes over the ground, and we look up. Flying above us is Aang’s flying bear. “The Avatar!” Zuko exclaims.

“Great,” I mutter. “Zuko, that’s cool, but we’ve gotta find Iroh.”

He grits his teeth and for a moment I think I’m going to need to slap some sense into him, but he nods. The rhino bounds forward until we hear a noise, and voices draw closer.

“Over there!” I whisper-shout. Zuko nods and slides off the saddle, holding out his arm for me to take. I grab on and he helps me down, and we creep over to the clearing where we see several men dressed in green, all surrounding Iroh, who is sporting a lack of clothing.

“He’s too dangerous, Captain!” A soldier shouts. “We can’t just carry him to the capital. We need to do something now.”

A man, who I presume to be the Captain, steps closer to Iroh and nods. “I agree. He must be dealt with immediately and severely.” I share a nervous glance with Zuko, who begins standing up. The Captain raises his arm, a boulder floating through the air in its path. “These dangerous hands must be crushed.”

From beside me Zuko leaps into the clearing, kicking the boulder away and breaking Iroh’s restraints. I stumble in a little awkwardly and a little late, but, hey, at least I’m there. I fall in line beside Zuko.

“Excellent form, Prince Zuko,” Iroh says.

“You taught me well,” he responds.

The Earthbender Captain speaks. “Surrender yourselves. It’s six against three. You’re clearly outnumbered.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Iroh says. “But you’re clearly outmatched.” The Captain sends me a look as though doubting his statement, but shrugs and fires a rock our way. Iroh catches it and hurls it back, sending soldiers falling backwards. A few more pebbles which I easily deflect, and they fall to the ground. Zuko sends a blast of fire towards the earthbenders, and they fly back. The Captain, standing in front of me, picks up a rather large rock and poses it to throw, but Iroh throws his chain around him and he is pulled down.

The soldiers groan, and I give Iroh a high-five, slightly out of breath.

“Now, would you please put on some clothes?” Zuko asks.

“You’re just worried that Iroh has more muscles than you,” I tease. He sends me a look and rolls his eyes.

“Yeah. That’s definitely it.”

a/n: sad that Sokka and Suki had a moment and we weren’t there for it :( but don’t worry, we’ll have more interactions with the Gaang soon, and things will get even more exciting (mwahaha). anyway someone pls tell Y/n that Appa is a bison

[nctzenkane]

Avatar The Last Airbender: The Trials of Hyunjin. Book One, Chapter One

Summary: Air. Water. Earth. Fire… 

Long ago, the prosperous Fire Nation was nothing more than a cluster of islands at war with one another.  Each island was dominated by a different clan, until they were united under the sole leadership of the Fire Lord.  Of these clans, the Miroh were the most influential and respected…

 But everything changed when they rebelled against the Fire Lord. 

Their rebellion was short lived, and anyone over the age of nineteen was sentenced to death for treason.  Meanwhile, the children of the Miroh Clan were stripped of their honor and status and forced to work as servants in the Royal Palace, forbidden to learn Firebending. Among those children, was Hyunjin; the retainer of Prince Yongbok.  Hyunjin may believe he’s nothing more than a dishonored servant, but in truth, it is his destiny to maintain balance, and protect the world…

Word Count: 3453

Warnings: Mentions of violence, explicit sexual content

AO3 Link

Author’s Note: I’m a super mega fan of both SKZ and A:TLA, so this was a crossover that was always gonna happen. I’ve been struggling a lot with my writing and my mental health, and how those things inevitably cross over. However, I managed to actually write this whole thing, and hopefully I’ll be able to continue it and make something that’s really worthwhile. So, without further ado...

…

  Despite being a country named for the element of fire, no place on the planet experienced thunderstorms that rivaled those in the Fire Nation.

 Brilliant bursts of white lit up the windows in one of the many kitchens of the palace, accompanied shortly thereafter by violent cracks of distant thunder. However, no matter how hard the torrents of rain pelted the windows, Hyunjin knew that he couldn’t lose focus on slicing the fish in front of him.  In just a few hours, dinner would be served to the Royal Family, and none of the servants wanted to be the one responsible for ruining the preparations.

 “Spirits,” one of the other servants muttered under his breath as he struggled to carve through the tough hide of moose-lion to prepare it to be smoked, “why did I have to be the one to do this job? I always get the shittiest tasks,”

 “Stop complaining Jooyeon,” Hyunjin said, his voice low, “you don’t want Auntie Lin or Auntie Fan to hear you. They’ll report you straight to Princess Ryujin,”

 “What’s she gonna do?” Jooyeon rolled his eyes, continuing to try to force his jagged carving knife through the dead animal’s skin, “there’s nothing they can do to us that hasn’t already been done,”

 “You don’t actually believe that, do you?” another servant, Jungsu, spoke up, though his eyes never left the giant pot of noodles he was stirring, “it could always be worse,”

 “How so?” Jooyeon scoffed, “living in this society without honor is just about the worst thing I can think of.  I mean, look at us, we’re not even allowed to grow out our hair, it’s humiliating,”

 Hyunjin wanted to say something, but Jooyeon was right.  Since the ancient days in the Fire Nation, someone’s hair was a direct sign of their personal honor and status.  No one was allowed to have hair longer than members of the Royal Family, nor were they allowed to decorate it with the same styles of topknot pins, but still, people treated it very, very seriously.  Hyunjin’s hair was at shoulder length, but he absolutely couldn’t grow it any longer, and he wasn’t allowed to tie it all up either; he and the others had been stripped of that right when they were only children.

 “Jooyeon, please,” Hyunjin pleaded, “just focus on your job and don’t complain too loudly. Remember what happened when Gunil spoke out like this?”

 Hyunjin winced at the memory of his cousin being burned alive on an elevated stage for a crowd of spectators to see.  The way he pleaded for mercy, and let out blood curdling screams when that mercy wasn’t granted…

 He did his best not to think about it.

 “Difference between me and Gunil,” Jooyeon held out his hand and snapped his finger, showing off a small flame that hovered just above his thumb, “I actually know how to Firebend,”

 On reflex alone, Hyunjin whipped a spring roll across the room faster than Jooyeon could react.  It hit him directly between the eyes and fell fruitlessly to the floor.  It obviously didn’t hurt, but Jooyeon was taken aback nonetheless.

 “Never do that again,” Hyunjin said, a sternness to his voice that he didn’t think possible, “you know Firebending is forbidden for us,”

 “Fine,” Jooyeon rolled his eyes, “by the spirits, why do you have such a stick up your ass,”

 Hyunjin didn’t respond, he only remembered the last words that the royal enforcers uttered before burning Gunil to ashes…

 “The nail that sticks up, must be hammered down,”

 Hyunjin quickly finished chopping up the fish and slid the cube shaped pieces into a bowl, sliding it across the counter to Jungsu who was still stirring the large pot.

 “There’s the jellyfish-tuna. You two can handle the rest, I have to accompany Prince Yongbok to his Firebending lessons,”

 With that, he left the kitchen, moving with purpose through the winding halls of the Royal Palace.  The blood red lacquered paint on the walls gave the building a sense of internal heat that was hard to describe.  That combined with the golden trim that lined the ceilings made it feel as though Hyunjin was walking through the sun itself, which was surely intentional on the part of the designers.

 To access Prince Yongbok’s chamber required cutting through the Royal Portrait Gallery; an incredibly long hallway, decorated with giant portraits of every Fire Lord in history, dating back centuries.  The artwork of the current Fire Lord, Jinyoung, was still being worked on, but Hyunjin could make out some of the details in the linework. It seemed that the image would depict Jinyoung holding a fireball in one hand, as with most of the other portraits to symbolize a mastery of Firebending, while his other hand would have a sword, dripping with blood.  Hyunjin cringed at the image, knowing all too well what that was meant to symbolize…

 The eradication of the Miroh Clan.

 He turned away from the image to face the opposite wall, finding a completely different set of portraits there.  While one wall depicted the Fire Lords, the other showed the past Avatars, or at least the ones born into the Fire Nation.  Hyunjin had been hearing stories about The Avatar for as long as he could remember; the only person born with the potential to master water, earth, fire and air.  They were a great many things to the world; a diplomat, a warrior, a spiritual leader. But no matter what role they filled, they were always seen as the most important person in the world.

 The last Avatar, a man named Rain, was born into the Earth Kingdom. Fire was the next element in the endless Avatar Cycle, so logically the spiritual leaders of the Fire Nation should’ve discovered and announced who the next Avatar was by now.  But alas, twenty years had passed since Rain’s death, and there seemed to be no sign that his successor would be named any time soon.

 A violent crack of thunder from outside shook Hyunjin from his thoughts; he didn’t have time to ponder whether or not The Avatar would return.  He needed to tend to the prince, or risk being demoted to a much less desirable job.

 He finally arrived at the elaborate golden doors of Prince Yongbok’s personal chamber and knocked three times.  When the doors swung open, it took everything in Hyunjin’s power not to turn as red as a tomato-berry.

 Prince Yongbok was perhaps the most beautiful young man in the entire world. His hair was as black as a starless night sky, like most Fire Nation citizens, and his skin was smooth and milky white.  It was incredibly long, hanging all the way down his back and stopping just over his butt when he let it down. But at the moment, it was pulled into a topknot and secured with a fancy golden pin. More impressively than that, were the freckles that dotted the bridge of his nose and cheekbones.  His eyes were large and expressive, and always appeared with a murky brown color; a stark difference to the golden irises of most Firebenders.  He may have been a head shorter than Hyunjin, but his presence was large enough to fill an entire room effortlessly.

 “Ah, Hyunjinnie, right on time,” Yongbok said, his warm, deep voice vibrating in his chest as he spoke, “It’s always great to see you, but I can’t say I’m excited about today’s lesson,”

 “Why not? I thought you enjoyed training with Sifu Junho,” Hyunjin sarcastically replied.  He knew full well that Yongbok despised his Firebending lessons.  Despite coming from a long line of powerful benders, the prince himself had never been any good at it.

 “Ha ha, you’re truly hilarious Hyunjinnie,” Yongbok said, trying to feign annoyance but unable to contain the smile blooming on his face, “let’s go. Sifu will complain endlessly if I’m late,”

 Hyunjin nodded and fell in step with Yongbok as they made their way to the training area.  Hyunjin wasn’t sure how he got lucky enough to be assigned to serve Prince Yongbok directly; in his twenty years of life, he’d faced almost nothing but pain, but every time he saw Yongbok’s silken hair or breathtaking smile, it was like the clouds parted and allowed the sun to shine, if only for a brief time.

 “So, what do you think Sifu Junho will have you learning today?” Hyunjin asked as they stepped out into the courtyard.  Rain was still pouring, but the sheltered walkway was left untouched.

 “Probably just more hot squats and basic forms.  No matter what else I try I can never seem to produce any actual flames,”

 “You never know, today might just be your lucky day,” Hyunjin replied with a wink as they rounded the corner, heading back inside the palace to the training area. The room itself was shaped like a large, empty dome made of smooth marble and devoid of anything flammable. In the center of the room, stood a shirtless man with greying hair hanging to the center of his back. His skin was tanned and scarred with scattered burns; a tale of his long military career written all over his body.

 He was Lee Junho, a member of the famed Dusi Clan.  In his youth he’d been one of Fire Lord Jinyoung’s personal guards, but now he was enjoying his retirement, and teaching the Fire Lord’s children how to Firebend.

 “Prince Yongbok, you just barely made it on time,” Junho said, finally turning to face the two young men.  He turned up his nose at the sight of Hyunjin, “prince, I know you’re rather… fond, of this particular Miroh Clan servant. But you know he’s not permitted to observe your training,”

 “I wasn’t planning on staying,” Hyunjin said sheepishly, “the prince just enjoys having a companion while walking,”

 “I don’t believe I asked for your input, Miroh,”

 Hyunjin winced at the way he spat the clan name, almost as though it was a slur.

 “Sifu, there’s no need for you to be so rude…” Yongbok began, but Hyunjin cut him off.

 “My apologies, I meant no disrespect,” Hyunjin bowed, “Prince Yongbok, I’ll wait for you outside,”

 Yongbok opened his mouth to protest, but he knew it was pointless.  Hyunjin stepped back outside and let the door close behind him. Rather than sitting there and sulking, he peered through the small window, careful not to let Junho see him. What the stuffy old teacher didn’t know, was that Hyunjin had spent the last year like this; watching and listening as Junho demonstrated complex Firebending forms to Yongbok.  Hyunjin had been keeping a detailed mental record of everything he saw and heard.

 His cousin Jooyeon might’ve fancied himself a Firebender because he was capable of making a small flame, but at this point, Hyunjin would’ve nearly been considered a master, even though he knew that he’d never be able to show it off.

 He watched intently as Yongbok removed his long red robes, leaving him in nothing but a pair of baggy black pants.  Hyunjin gulped at the expanse of smooth, pale skin, but his goal wasn’t to ogle the prince, not this time.  He committed the steps of Junho’s teachings to memory, even though Yongbok didn’t produce the same massive streams of flame that his teacher did.  

 After about an hour, Junho clearly gave up on the idea of Yongbok actually learning anything, and he was dismissed.  Hyunjin quickly moved away from the window as Yongbok dressed himself and came outside.  

 “Thank you for waiting Hyunjinnie.  I’m so sorry that he’s such an asshole. You didn’t deserve to be treated that way,” Yongbok said, his deep voice teeming with righteous fury.  Hyunjin sighed.

 “Yongbok, you’re aware of my clan’s past.  My father was the one who led the Miroh Clan’s rebellion against the Fire Lord, and Sifu Junho fought to stop it. It’s not exactly surprising that he wouldn’t like me very much,”

 ��I don’t care about the sins of your father,” Yongbok said, stepping closer to Hyunjin and cupping his cheek in the palm of his hand.  Unlike most Firebenders, Yongbok’s hands were always cold. Hyunjin shivered at the touch, but he embraced it, “from the day you became my servant, you’ve been nothing but sweet and thoughtful and just… perfect,”

 Hyunjin blushed, his skin heating up as his face turned red.  

 “T-thank you Yongbok,”

 “You’re welcome, my Hyunjinnie,” Yongbok said with that signature smile of his, “now, I’m supposed to go to the Royal Spa to get washed up before dinner.  But I think I’d rather go to my private bath… if you’d be willing to join me, of course,”

 Hyunjin could feel his inner fire swell at the thought of bathing with Yongbok. How could he possibly resist such a request?

 “Lead the way,”

 …

 Yongbok’s private bath was actually more like a small pool, located just down the hall from his bedroom.  The water was steaming hot, and it felt so good against Hyunjin’s naked body as he settled in next to Yongbok, who was lounging in the corner of the bath.

 “Wanna wash my hair for me?” Yongbok asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at Hyunjin.

 Hyunjin had known Yongbok long enough to know what that meant.  No one of the Miroh Clan was allowed to touch the prince’s hair.  That was just a fancy euphemism for something else…

 Yongbok straddled Hyunjin, allowing his favorite servant to kiss his neck while he moaned at the contact.  Hyunjin grasped Yongbok’s thin waist, his long slender finger resting just over the swell of the prince’s plump ass.

 Truly, what had Hyunjin done to be so blessed?

 As Yongbok grinded on his lap, he felt his dick swelling to full size beneath the smaller man, earning him yet another deep, beautiful moan.

 “Spirits… you’re so big. I can never quite get used to it,” Yongbok said with a truly sinful smirk.

 “It’s never seemed to be too challenging for you to take,” Hyunjin replied, capturing Yongbok’s lips in a kiss.  Hyunjin’s lips were like flowing lava, while Yongbok’s were a frozen lake; competing sensations that blended together into a feeling of complete and total bliss.

 Hyunjin removed his right hand from Yongbok’s waist, prodding a finger against his clenching hole.  The water helped him ease it inside, eliciting a sharp gasp from the prince.  

 However, before they could truly get started, a loud bell chimed, echoing throughout the entire palace.

 “Fuck, that’s the dinner bell,” Hyunjin groaned, “I’ve gotta get back to the kitchen so I can prepare to serve you guys,”

 Yongbok whined, clearly not wanting their moment to end.

 “But baby I…”

 “We’ll finish this tonight? I’ll find a way to sneak into your room, I promise,”

 Yongbok sighed, but he didn’t argue the point any further.

 “Alright. I should probably go ahead and get dressed anyway. Tonight’s dinner is kind of special,”

 “Oh yeah? What’s so special about it?” Hyunjin asked. As a mere servant, no one ever told him or the others anything important.

 “The Fire Sages are finally going to reveal the identity of the next Avatar,” Yongbok explained, “it’s been so long since Avatar Rain died that the other nations are calling this ‘The Era without an Avatar’.  I’m not sure what’s taken them so long, but I’m excited to find out who this person is,”

 “Whoever they turn out to be, it’ll be extremely important for the Fire Nation,” Hyunjin thought out loud, “I can see why the Fire Lord wanted us to prepare such a fancy meal. For fuck’s sake, they had Jooyeon trying to smoke a sabretooth moose-lion,”

 Yongbok chuckled, deep and contagious.

 “Well, my beautiful servant, I suppose I’ll see you in a bit?”

 “Yes, my gorgeous prince,”

 …

 Hyunjin did his best to keep an emotionless face as he, Jooyeon and Jungsu wheeled an impossibly large cart of food into the dining hall.  The long dining table had been draped with a golden tablecloth, and there were multiple candelabras decorating it.  The room was abuzz with casual conversation, and a cursory glance of the space made it clear that important guests from the other three nations were present at this special dinner.  At the far end of the table, there was another table, creating an elongated ‘T' shape.  At the second table, sat the entire Royal Family.

 In the center was Fire Lord Jinyoung; a truly ancient man with leathery tan skin and a head full of long, white hair, thinning around his hairline.  Atop his head was his royal topknot pin, making it look like golden flames were sticking out of his hair.

 On either side of him were the twin prince and princess; Jeongin and Ryujin. They had similar looks; the same pale skin, foxlike eyes and raven-black hair.  However, their vibes couldn’t differ more.  Jeongin’s features were sharp and intimidating, while Ryujin’s were soft and welcoming, however their true natures were quite the opposite. Prince Jeongin was known for feeding turtle-ducks in the Royal Garden and engaging in haiku battles with the kitchen staff, while Princess Ryujin personally oversaw the executions of anyone who dared cross the Fire Lord in any way.

 To the right side of Ryujin was the eldest of the Fire Lord’s children, Crown Prince Chan.  He had a short but muscular build, with a sharp jawline and broad shoulders.  He was something of an enigma; being next in line for the throne meant that he had a lot of unique duties that occupied a lot of his time.  Hyunjin never had any negative interactions with him, and Yongbok always spoke highly of him, so there was no reason to think he was anything but a nice guy.

 And of course, on the other end of the table, on the left side of Jeongin, was Yongbok himself.  He looked absolutely beautiful, though Hyunjin wasn’t a big fan of how the royal makeup artists always obscured his beautiful freckles in an effort to make him look more like a traditional Fire Nation citizen.  Despite that though, his smoky eyeshadow really highlighted his intense features, and the way his long hair had been pulled into a half-ponytail, with the rest hanging down his back, made him look like a spirit in mortal form.

 “Hey, stop staring,” Jungsu whispered as they approached the table, “stay focused,”

 “Sorry,” Hyunjin quickly replied, finally averting his gaze from the royals.  They finally reached the table and began serving the food in the traditional Fire Nation order; red tea first, followed by steamed buns, seafood salads, and then the main course of smoked moose-lion, finished off with a round of Jasmine tea, to aid with digestion.

 Hyunjin and the others stood back from the table as the dignitaries ate, drank and talked about political affairs that didn’t interest him.  All he wanted was a chance to approach Yongbok and take in his scent; he was probably wearing some expensive perfume imported from the Earth Kingdom.

 “This is so fucking boring,” Jooyeon said under his breath, only loud enough for his cousins to hear, “I don’t see why they make us wait around when we could just serve the food and leave,”

 “A specialized form of torture, I’m sure,” Hyunjin said through clenched teeth. Before any of them could say anything else, the doors at the far end of the dining hall opened, revealing ten men and women dressed in fancy red robes and tall, pointy hats that matched.  The eleventh man wore white and gold robes, and his hat was even taller and pointer than the others.

 They were the Fire Sages, ancient spiritual leaders of the Fire Nation and servants to The Avatar in each of their lives.  It was only fitting that they would be the ones to announce the identity of the next Avatar.

 “Ah, our esteemed guests have arrived,” Fire Lord Jinyoung’s voice rang out, shaking and nasally, “the Fire Sages have a very important announcement to make,”

 The Grand Sage, the one in the white robes, stepped forward as everyone in the room stopped their conversations and turned to face him.  The elderly man cleared his throat and began to speak.

 “Over ten thousand years ago, the endless Avatar Cycle began here, in our glorious Fire Nation. With each life, the Avatar is reborn into the Air Nomads, Water Tribe, and Earth Kingdom, and now the time has come for the Avatar to call the Fire Nation home once more!” the Grand Sage and all the others turned in unison. Hyunjin was confused for a moment, but a second later, he realized what they were all staring at…

 Or rather, who.

 “We live to serve you, Avatar Hyunjin,”

[somelokivariant]

FOR MY CANADIANS, (and everyone)

TODAY - MAY 16 - IS MOOSE HIDE CAMPAIGN DAY

WEAR A PIN TO SHOW SUPPORT AND SPREAD AWARENESS TO WORK AGAINST VIOLENCE AGAINS INDIGENOUS WOMEN AND CHILDREN

🗣

POUR LES CANADIENS/CANADIENNES

LA JOUR DE LA CAMPAIGN MOOSE HIDE EST AUJOURD'HUI

PORTEZ LE POUR SUPPORTEZ ET PARTAGEZ L'HISTOIRE, ET TRAVAILLER A PROTÉGER LES FEMMES ET ENFANTS AUTOCHTONES 🗣

[rememberthisham]

All He Ever Wanted Ch. 2

In true Dib fashion, He gave immediate chase down the cracked hallways of the skool as the alien screeched like a deranged hog for him to stop. His short stride was a hindrance but his obstacles were few as Zim slammed to the floor anyone unfortunate enough to be in his path. The moose floated effortlessly at his shoulder, keeping perfect pace by looking as though it wasn't moving at all. 

Dib scowled as it looked back at him and made a small 'nyah' sound.

Tearing through the front doors with his shoulder, Zim barreled down the street. He was stopped from darting into the road by the relentless and sudden traffic making no hesitation to flatten him and keep driving. He made an abrupt left away from the road and towards his base. Dib hit the ground harder with his feet, months of chasing Zim finally paying off as the exercise needed to give him the edge. He forced himself faster and gained the distance to put him directly behind his adversary, reaching out to grab at his shoulder. Zim felt the surprise contact and nimbly changed direction, leaving Dib to skitter forward a yard or two before doubling back to keep up. Zim was moving away from his house now, being funneled between Dib and the road toward the woods beyond the town.

Dib chased him to the treeline where Zim seemed to disappear. Green skin and pink uniform seamlessly camouflaged into the changing autumn leaves littering the woods. Dib stopped short, bewildered and unable to believe.

No,  no,  he was  right there!

He circled this way and that, trying to detect some movement or color. Anything to determine where the Alien had gone. He gave up searching and went back to jogging. Even if Dib couldn't see him, he couldn't have gone far. Dib covered as much ground as he could, all the while taunting the runner.

"Come back, Zim! You can't hide in these woods! This may as well be my backyard!" He smiled a maniacal, almost unhinged smile. It wasn't even a lie. He'd set up so many cameras and tracked down so many unnatural creatures and phenomena in the woods, he could traverse them blindfolded if he had to.

The only thing that had thrown him lately was the strange man he'd never seen bef— oh great, there he was.

The old man hobbled onto the trail from the trees, seemingly walking from nowhere and into somewhere. He stopped in front of the child and frowned as though he also didn't expect to run into him again.

"What're you doing back?" He demanded, crotchety tone undercut by some genuine concern. Mostly concerned for Dibs' sanity.

"I was…" Dib hesitated, he knew how the truth always ended, but he refused to keep it to himself out of principle. He sighed and found a sudden interest in his shoes. "...looking for an alien, he just ran through here."

"That right?" The old man barked, taking a sweeping glance from side to side. "Well I didn't see anything, but them Martians are sneaky like that." He grumbled, scratching his balding forehead. Dry dirt chipped off his skin like dandruff and floated down into his beard. Dib's gaze snapped back to the man, stomach flipping for an instant. He quickly squashed the feeling.

"Well, he's not from Mars... but you actually believe me?" He asked, less hopeful and more cautious. People thought Dib was insane, but the old man was likely  actually  insane. Best not to get his hopes up. The old man nodded with a snort, whipped the dirt flakes from his beard with one swipe of his hand, and turned with a gesture to follow.

"Sunlights not getting any longer." He remarked, hobbling on bare feet back into the woods and off the trail. Dib was hesitant to follow a possibly unaccounted stranger to a second location, but two pairs of eyes were better than one. Pushing the young trees aside he made his way off the path where the old man had disappeared. The low-growing brambles pulled at his boots and pants, rendering him much slower than the barefoot old man. Each branch he managed to pin back swung back into his face with a snap, he was certain it was intentional by the time he finally stumbled into a clearing. He found the man staring at a ramshackle structure of a house in disrepair. When had there been a house in the woods? Dib knew the area inside and out and there had never been a house. The old man tutted and playfully smacked the trunk of a nearby tree.

"Wooden fools got it wrong again, he's not here yet." He mumbled. Dib watched as the man spun in three circles on the spot, looking at the sky and waving his hands weakly as he did. "No no, definitely later. The termites drown in the rain." He stomped and turned back to Dib. Dib, for his part, had backed away to the edge of the clearing and was trying to quietly sneak back into the woods and to the trail. The loud, awkward crunching of the trees was making it impossible.

"Hah, um…" he timidly spoke as he put his back to the forest so he faced the clearly crazy old man he was alone with. "You're nuts aren't you?" He sighed, not sure what to expect as a response. 

"I wish! Nuts don't have to pay the tax man." He huffed. "sitting around, worrying about squirrels… no I'm no more insane than you are, boy." He placated. Dib furrowed his brows in offense but said nothing. People called him crazy every day, but there was something bitter about a crazy man doing it. 

Was…was this what he looked like to people?

Dib turned to leave again, not caring anymore about having his back to the stranger. He'd lost Zim, scraped his ankles, and gotten his pride bruised. All he wanted to do was go home and work on his trap, maybe eat a bowl of cereal or something. He pushed the trees apart and took a step into the wilderness, but with his adrenaline gone, he found no motivation to push through. He lowered his head against the trunk of a sapling and sighed. 

"You should stick around if you wanna talk to him." The old man croaked. 

"Who?" 

"The  alien,"  he emphasized. "The one carrying the machine on his back"

Dib opened his eyes, slowly raising his head from the tree.

"You've seen him?" He asked, cringing as his voice cracked in a way it wouldn't have a year before. "You've seen Zim?" He looked back at the old man and amended his statement to exclude the voice crack.

"Not up close, but the woods sure know how to  gossip ." He emphasized the last part as if hoping the trees themselves would overhear his criticism and take it to heart. "A puny little thing kinda like you, not from this dirt, that's what the woods think."

Dib, against his better judgment, decided there might be some merit to the old man's ramblings if they could be so eerily accurate. Most people thought Zim's backpack was just a backpack.

"Do you actually believe he's an alien?" He stepped cautiously back into the clearing with the stranger, voice quiet in its inquiry. "You believe me?"

"Course I do, anyone with a head on their shoulders could see he's something else." The old man huffed as if their conversation were unnecessary. "Kid's  green."

"Exactly!" Dib threw his hands up, shouting to the sky. "Finally, someone else sees it!" He laughed, hardly able to believe it. Someone believed him, it was all he ever wanted, he felt light, yet a heaviness weighed him back down almost immediately. The one person who actually believed him was some crazy guy wandering the woods talking to trees… It was like a cruel joke. No one would ever take the old man seriously.

No, someone would.

"So the uh…trees? Talk to you?" He asked at length. The old man raised an eyebrow at him, a large grin with a few teeth short of a smile split across his face. He laughed a loud howling laugh that sounded like a hyena. 

"Course not, kid, trees don't have mouths." He waved a weathered hand in Dib's direction. "But you got the right idea, c'mere." He beckoned the kid closer as he limped toward a large pine tree somewhat beside the house. Dib strode forward with more confidence than he had. The old man grabbed him suddenly by the arm and planted Dibs' hand firmly on the tree trunk. Dib shuddered at the unwelcome contact of the old man's cold skin, but he didn't back down. The bark of the tree was smooth and it felt solid like stone. Why did trees always feel so much more solid than things made of wood?

"Uh…" he glanced at the old man from the corner of his eye when nothing happened for a minute. 

"You feel it?" He asked, and Dib concentrated hard on the bark beneath his hand.

"...no?" He said finally. "It just feels like wood."

"Ah," the man sighed, releasing Dib's wrist. He let his hand fall back to his side. "I guess it was a long shot, huh? Takes practice to understand them properly." He declared.

"Well…what do you 'feel'?" Dib tried to keep an open mind. It was madness, but Dib really did want to discover some evidence for the man's claims. He wanted to believe.

"I feel the same thing you do, I've just been doing it long enough to tell the difference." He explained. He pressed one hand to the pine and the other to the slightly younger pine beside it. "These trees here are late to start going to sleep for winter and it worries them. Lefty here is dealing with a nasty root mold but the snow should kill it. Plus they're mother and daughter." He explained, patting them lightly and stepping back. Dib looked up at the conifer's needles in confusion, feeling a drop of water fall onto his face.

"But how do I know any of that is true?" He asked, growing impatient. He rolled his eyes as he found another flaw. "And look, this one has completely different pine cones." He pointed to the rounded cone on a low-hanging branch of the younger pine, comparing it to the more oblong cone of the elder. "They can't be related if they aren't even the same species." He pointed out smugly. The old man narrowed his eyes and his lips quivered only a little in a patient grimace. 

"Trees don't always keep to themselves, crossing species happens all the time in nature." He explained slowly. "This little one here is a direct kin of the big one, see how her mama grows all slanted to give her more sunlight?" He pointed at the sky without looking up. Dib craned his neck up to see and sure enough, the branches of the pine were heavier on one side and the smaller ones could reach clear up to the sky beside it.

"Huh…but that doesn't make any sense, how can they know they're related?" He mused aloud. The old man laughed a wheeze and shook his head. 

"Everything can communicate, kinda silly to think talking's the only way." He shrugged. Dib whipped his head back around from where he was gazing up into the atmosphere.

"But how do you know this? I need proof." 

"How do you know that a dog wants a treat? Or a pat on the head? He can't tell ya." The man answered. "You'll get proof if you work for it, but there's no proof I can drop at your feet whenever you demand." Dib bit the inside of his cheek and breathed wearily. He didn't know what to think. No proof, and little evidence, but accurate results. What to make of it?

"Are you some kind of druid or something?" Dib asked, thinking he'd research a bit later if he found time. The drops sprinkling his hair became heavier and more frequent, leaving small puddles on his glasses.

"No, Druids aren't real." The old man waved Dib off again like the question was silly. "I'm a witch."

"A witch?" Dibs' eyes got very wide at the word. "Do you have any spell drives?"

"Any…I don't know where you hear some of this stuff, kid." The witch smiled at the dirt and shook his head. "You know you seem bright, open-minded but logical." He scratched his chin at the base of his beard. "You don't see that a lot in this town, you'd do well to learn a bit of the craft yourself." He remarked. Dib saw the opportunity and sprang for it. 

"And you'd teach me?" He asked, hopeful. If there was something to all this nonsense, it could be valuable in his fight against Zim. Not to mention super Flippin cool. The old man barked and clapped his hands together once. 

"Sure, kid, but not today."

"Because it's raining?" Dib asked. The drops had become proper rainfall during the conversation and the sky had grown darker with the coming evening. 

"No that doesn't bother me none," the old man corrected. "Full moon's tomorrow, something tells me you've got a project you should be working on." He said, a seemingly unrelated subject. "Try learning new things when the moon is new, you'll have better results. Something has to be set into motion tomorrow and you're running out of daylight."

Dib smacked his forehead, the trap! He'd gotten so caught up with the old man he forgot he only had tonight to work on it before the Krazy Tacos annual Krazy spec-taco-lur weekend blowout extravaganza!

"I gotta go" he dismissed himself without preamble and took off back into the woods. Even in the rain he suddenly found the motivation to push back through the trees and to the path. The old man put his hand on his hips and watched the little scamp scurry away. It had been a good long time since anyone had been smart enough to question him. Or curious enough to try and learn. Wringing the water from his beard he started trudging up towards the house. 

They said the outsider would arrive in the rain, he wondered how long he had to wait. His question was answered as he rounded the corner to go inside.

Next

[alpaca-clouds]

Fluffcember Day 07: Candied Almonds

Fandom: Digimon Tamers

Characters: Ruki, Rumiko & Renamon

Genre: Family Fluff

Length: 832 words

[Ao3 Link]

“Kaa-san,” Ruki groaned, as her mother leaned onto her.

This had been a bad idea from the start. It had been, really. University allowed for Ruki to miss a weak, but accompanying her mother to Germany? Bad idea. Real bad. Taking Renamon along was the only thing preventing her from being driven to insanity.

“Oh, c'mon, Ruki-chan,” her mother lulled and once more tried to pin those stupid moose antlers made from fabric onto her. “You're gonna look soooo cute.”

“I do not like looking cute,” Ruki replied and caught her mother’s hands. She turned around to where Renamon was hiding in a tree, just as her partner tended to do. Right now, she wished for nothing more than a little help. Especially as – technically speaking – Digimon were no longer a secret. So really, Renamon could help her.

“I'm just saying.” Her mother had taken a bit too kindly to the German Glühwein, having drunken three cups of the beverage. Hence it was no big surprise she was tipsy. Ruki just wished that her mother's manager had come along or something.

The Germans did not pay them any mind. Especially not in this city, where Japanese people made up a sizable chunk of the population.

“Ruki,” her mother urged. “Don't be like this.”

“Kaa-san.” She took that stupid hairband out of her mother's hands. It was stupid, really. All of it was.

“I'm just sa'ing. Since you moved out, we barely ever do something together…”

For a moment Ruki was tempted to reply, that they had not done a terrible lot together before. After all her mother's work had made her travel the world with Ruki mostly being raised by her grandmother. But then again, she really often did not visit homes for a week or two in row since she had started university.

Great. Her mother's guilt tripping worked. Still. What difference did it make? Nobody knew her here. “Fine,” she groaned. “But you'll stay off the Glühwein for the rest of the evening.”

“Sure.” Her mother grinned at her in a way that did not befit a model at all. She patted Ruki's cheek, before breathing in the cold winter air. “You wanna look for something for Kaa-san?” Apparently, her mind had now moved on to her own mother. “Or maybe for your boyfriend?”

Ruki sighed. She might as well. Thus, she allowed her mother to drag her across the Christmas Market, that was so much bigger than the one in Tokyo. Something that seemed even more unbelievable to her, considering that apparently in Germany even small towns had their own Christmas markets.

Still, she could not help but smile as her mother tried to talk some store owner into giving her a discount on a pretty glass lantern, she was planning to buy for Ruki's grandmother.

At times it really felt more like Rumiko was Ruki's older sister, really. And Ruki knew her mother had still been in high school, when she had been born, so maybe it was not a big surprise. She just hated that at times she felt like the one adult in the room, when she spent time with her.

***

By the time they reached their hotel near the main train station, Ruki felt as she would do at the end of a day spent exploring the digital world. They had bought gifts. Lots and lots of gifts. What had started reasonable – with the lantern for Ruki's grandmother and a set of chocolates for Ryou had quickly escalated, as Rumiko had insisted on buying something for the other Tamers as well.

At least she was spent when they returned to the hotel, with Ruki bringing her to bed, where her mother promptly collapsed into a peaceful sleep. Their hotel room was a fancy one – no wonder with her mother's budget – one that even featured a balcony overlooking the city.

It had started snowing on their way back, the clouds covering up the reflection of the digital world in the sky.

With a long sigh Ruki leaned against the balcony's balustrade when Renamon finally appeared beside her.

“I could've used your help, you know?” Ruki muttered without looking at her partner.

She could hear the amusement from Renamon's reply, though. “You've handled yourself well enough.”

Ruki looked back into the room. “I don't get her, you know? I never have.”

“I know,” Renamon said. She looked at the sleeping woman as well. “But I think that all you have to understand is, that she cares about you, but does not know how to express it.”

“Probably,” Ruki admitted. She was still wearing her winter coat. Without further comment she gripped into the pocket and pulled out the paper bag she had acquired before, handing it to Renamon.

“What is it?” the Digimon asked, as Ruki only smiled.

“Candied almonds. I thought you might like them.”

There was a faint smile on Renamon's face, as she opened the bag and took out a single almond. “Thank you.”

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Nooooooo Chris bby no

CW: Noncon touching, referenced noncon, noncon kiss trauma/panic response, pet whump, intimate whumper, creepy whumper, crass/derogatory language

Someone comes in, uses the bathroom, washes their hands, and leaves. Chris can see them over the handler's shoulder through the crack between the closed stall door and the side, flimsy metal that doesn't quite meet.

He breathes in shuddery, shaking gasps, but he doesn't - he can't - make a sound. The handler holds him tightly, the weight and heat of his body forcing Chris back against the wall. They're both still clothed, but the handler's breath is hot on his ear and Chris might throw up, or bite, or...

No he won't.

He'll be still and silent and good.

He always does this - he always freezes up. Somewhere inside himself, derailed, there is a train wreck screaming at him to fight or flee, but Chris can't do that, he's never done that, he's always done just what he is doing now.

Freeze, and be good, and hope that it won't be as bad as he knows it can be. As it has been. As it will probably be again.

His breath hitches, and the handler jams a shoulder into his collarbone to quiet him. The man who came in leaves, and it's only the two of them again.

"What do you do pet, with your barcode sawed off, huh? What makes money for your fancy lattes these days? You got a sugar daddy?"

The handler kisses him before he can answer. The press of lips on his is familiar, repulsive, inevitable. It would always be this, in the end, wouldn't it?

He has an acceptance letter to a real college pinned to the fridge, and it doesn't matter, because once a pet, always a pet, and never anything more.

Chris chokes on his disgust, shakes his head to the question, twists away from the handler's attempt to kiss him again. His clip is torn loose and his hair falls into his face, a blue curtain, not a wall he can hide behind.

"St-stop-"

The handler grips his chin and forces his head up, to meet his eyes. Chris whines, hates himself. He's supposed to be better now, stronger, and he's not. Still Baldur, still 223499, still nothing, still just a black hole with legs. No one at all.

Not a person.

Just a pet.

"You know better," The handler chides, patronizing. Chris sees him through a blurry sheen of tears, fuzzy and unfocused. "You don't get to know that word anymore."

You have two options, trainee. You can choose to be good, or choose to get hurt. I always give you options, don't I?

Yes, Handler Petrus-

"How do you answer a handler, pretty boy?"

Chris whispers, "N-no, sir, I d-d-don't have-... have, have... have a, a, a sug, a s-sugar daddy-"

"Then what? Whoring yourself like the other Romantics? That how you make a living?" Chris shudders, managing a breathy no, sir, and the handler chuckles, one hand still gripped tight over his throat, the other slipping up under Chris's shirt to find the layer of compression fabric beneath. "Oh, you're a double-wrapped fucking Christmas present, huh? Well, I know where we can go. I'll get a room at a motel. Show me you still know your tricks, pet, and I'll even let you go without turning you in."

"You-... You will?" Hope, dizzying as any vertigo, fights for space in his racing chaotic mind.

Chris's head starts to spin. His hands, pressed to the cool walls, tap desperately, but there's no soothing to be had here. Words are starting to fall apart, spark and dissipate, lose connection with his brain.

He manages, "Y-you... You, you, you... You p-promise? If I-I'm good?"

"Scout's Honor. Did you come here alone, pretty boy?" The handler's fingers twist some of Chris's hair, tuck it behind his ear, fiddle with the six piercings there, pressing rough thumb over them one by one. "Hm?"

Tears run warm down Chris's cheeks as he hiccups on a sob and whimpers, "Yes, s-sir, I'm al, al, alone."

He lets himself be pulled out of the bathroom and towards the door with his head down and his eyes on the floor.

He"s a terrible liar - but he's crying so hard that the handler can't tell.

Look up, he thinks, desperately. The handler's grip on his hand is bruising tight, an arm around his lower back, a whispered litany of the things he is going to do to Chris when they get to the motel.

Chris says yes to them all. He doesn't remember anymore how to say no.

He doesn't get to remember no.

They move across the cafe to the door, to all appearances a man concerned about his upset friend. Chris can't cry for help. Pets don't ask for help. They don't need it.

They're pets.

He's a pet.

Everything else he's ever tried to be is a lie.

And yet...

Look up, he pleads, inside his own mind. Look up, see me, help me, help.

Look up, Antoni.

---

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