#no the war is not covered the same everywhere by everybody

[helshades]

Note that the 'beheaded babies story'—kudos on the tact, by the way—is real. Only fewer toddlers were actually decapitated than some people mistakenly told in their panic and/or wish to damn Palestinians, although the initial reports were pretty clear, and got confirmed by multiple sources.

Basically, it's not because you sympathise more with one side of a war that the country or countries in question magically stop producing propaganda, and that grave assertions need not be corroborated. Oftentimes it can take years, even decades before historians feel confident about knowing the truth. Nowadays, the technical means are such that even videos are relatively easy to falsify, so: yes, all stories have to be checked.

Please attempt not to forget the fact, in your noble defence of the Palestine people, that you pure-hearted Westerners aren't the only ones with a notable interest in Gaza, since, unfortunately enough, you happen to emote in accordance with the most unfrequentable folk in Islamic fundamentalism—who will use your compassion against you, just like the Israeli far-right will utilise any horrors perpetrated either by Hamas or its sympathisers to justify war crimes.

[linkspooky]

Hey, love your fanfic and your metas. I have a thing that's been bothering me since I read your Azula rant a few months ago (which aside from this one thing, was AWESOME. GO THE FUCK OFF.). You bring up how Azula protected Zuko and looked out for him and he repaid her by treating her like she was a live wire meant to be pitied instead of helped. I agree that Azula was done dirty by the narrative, especially with your points added, but I couldn't help but feel that your reasoning for Azula being a better sibling to Zuko was based mostly on conjecture for her motivations rather than what was told to us from the show. So that brings me to my actual question: Should Zuko help Azula because he's supposed to as her family or because he's supposed to be a hero? And will the fic acknowledge their equal share in their toxic dynamic in later chapters?

I agree that most of my arguments on Azula's motivations are based on inference and not directly stated in text. If you don't find my arguments convincing than that's that. I can only argue my interpretation I can't tell you how to read it.

However, briefly I'd like to point out that Azula's motivations are muddled at best. I used killing the avatar as an example, because unless Azula is omniscient she had no way of knowing that Aang could have lived. She reacted with complete surprise when Zuko questioned if the avatar was really dead. If the show was telling us that Azula planned all along to throw her brother under the bus in case the avatar turned out to be alive, that doesn't really make sense. Azula's motivations aren't really made clear to us because 90% of the time she's being shown to us through Zuko's perspective who has very mixed feelings about his sister at best. Azula is also ultimately intended as just to be a part of Zuko's arc and foil to him not really her own independent character so like, I kind of have to infer her motivations.

Anyway, to addressing your actual question. I'm going to use an example to show what I think is the ideal development for Zuko and Azula's relationship by comparing it to another media. Namely, the redemption arc of Faith in Angel the Series. It's briefly covered in this video redemption for her but I'm going to write my own spin.

Faith is the other slayer, a girl chosen to hunt vampires in Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Her intention with the start is similiar to Azula's, she's meant to serve as a dark foil to the main character and while Buffy triumphs Faith was destined from the start to take a fall. Faith is also the bad victim to Buffy's good victim. They've both suffered from severe physical and sexual abuse, but Buffy ultimately has a support system while Faith does not. Buffy is also unable to save Faith and basically gives up on trying, because she's suffered very personal abuse under Faith's hands.

Faith takes a fall from lack of any real support system just like Azula. She envies Buffy for the fact that Buffy has everything, a mom, a watcher, firends the same way that people in Azula's life (her mom, her uncle, Mai and Ty Lee also sidenote Mai and Ty lee aren't obligated to choose Azula she made those relationships toxic but like Azula's mother and uncle war criminal are just playing favorites) have always chosen Zuko over her.

Buffy: Why, Faith? What's in it for you? Faith: What isn't? You know, I come to Sunnydale. I'm the Slayer. I do my job kicking ass better than anyone. What do I hear about everywhere I go? Buffy. So I slay, I behave, I do the good little girl routine. And who's everybody thank? Buffy. Buffy: It's not my fault. Faith: Everybody always asks, why can't you be more like Buffy? But did anyone ever ask if you could be more like me? Angel: I know I didn't. Faith: You get the Watcher. You get the mom. You get the little Scooby gang. What do I get? Jack squat. This is supposed to be my town!

Faith basically has nothing, and she's defined by her lack of stability and identity. Similarly to Azula's breakdown, she's almost terrified by the idea of love. Azula can't trust people and can only resort to controlling them with fear because the person who should have loved her unconditional abandoned her and the only parent who showed her attention made her earn it and the person who modeled her relationships showed her how to control others through fear and obedience and that taints all her other relationships. Azula is a toxic individual who doesn't deserve Mai and Ty Lee's forgiveness, and she's also literally never been shown what a healthy relationship looks like and people can't understand that if they've never been taugh tit both of these things are true simultaneously. Faith envies Buffy's life but she's also terrified of unconditional love because abuse and abandonment is basically all she knows.

[Riley is on top of Buffy, looking down at her.] Riley: I love you. Faith in Buffy's body: Uggnnh Get off. No. No. No! [Pushing Riley away]Get-get off! No. Off me. Get off. No, no-o. G-get [Buffy stands] Riley: Buffy...What? What's wrong? Faith: (gasping) Who are you? What do you want from h-her? Riley: Should I not have...? Faith: This is meaningless. Riley: You're shaking. [He gets up and puts a blanket/sheet on her.] Faith: Nnnh. Riley: What happened? Faith: Nothing. Nothing.

Faith is committing sexual assault here, just by the way. Faith is honestly worse than Azula (they both try to do a mass murder for their daddies) and gets shown way more narrative sympathy than Azula ever does. But you know, Faith is also her own fully fledged character while Azula only exists to be a part of Zuko's arc and most of her deeper writing was Aaron Ehasz champining her cause. I guess Faith exists in a show where the writers allow women to be messy human beings.

Ursa: [appearing in the mirror] What a shame. You always had such beautiful hair. Azula: What are you doing here? Ursa: I didn't want to miss my own daughter's coronation. Azula: Don't pretend to act proud. I know what you really think of me. You think I'm a monster. Ursa: I think you're confused. All your life you've used fear to control people. Like your friends Mai and Ty Lee. Azula: [hysterically] Well what choice do I have? Trust is for fools! Fear is the only reliable way. Even you fear me. Ursa: [gently] No. I love you, Azula. I do. [Azula screams and hurls the brush at her mirror, breaking it; then collapses, sobbing]

As one final parallel both of them are aware on some level that they are a monster, and that their actions are bad. Ursa is just Azula's own mind telling her, so if Ursa is telling her that using fear to control Mai and Ty Lee is wrong then Azula is on some level aware of that. Faith and Azula define themselves as the bad one, and use that as a personal shield from both guilt and other's people rejection.

AZULA: "My own mother thought I was a monster... she was right of course, but it still hurt." vs. ANGEL: You can't imagine the true price of evil. FAITH: Yeah? I hope evil takes mastercard.

While Faith shares many parallels with Azula, I'd also like to point out the parallels between Angel and Zuko. They are both marked as having "the redemption arc" for their show. That's literally Angel's concept from day one, he's a vampire with a soul trying to atone for his past deeds. His entire spinoff show is Angel trying to find redemption by saving others. Zuko on the other hand is not only considered like one of THE REDEMPTION ARCS of all time but also his entire arc is learning that the fire nation was wrong and redeeming himself by joining the avatar the person he used to hunt and atoning for the ways he hurt Aang and his friends.

I think Zuko's character arc is much more similar to Angel's than Spike's to be honest (they're both characters in buffy who receive redemption). In that as you said above in your ask Zuko's arc is about him learning to be a proper hero. We don't really get to the part where Zuko like, develops his identity as a person outside of being a hero who saves others. Zuko does like learn to calm down and not express his rage and learns about unconditional love from Iroh but like his act of redeeming himself is switching sides and helping the heroes. Spike swithces sides too but that doesn't redeem him, Spike's redemption is gaining a soul himself and learning to develop his own morality and do good deeds for the right reason and not because he wants to get Buffy's approval.

In my writing I'm planning to continue it so Zuko has to let go of the notion of redeeming himself through heroism and instead has to learn that real redemption is trying to be a better person every single day, not defeating the fire lord and being a GOOD KING TM.

Back to Angel, he's a vampire with a soul. Rather he spent 200 years as a soulless vampire killing people and then he was cursed to have a soul and suddenly feel guilt and remorse for his actions. It's like how Zuko eventually realized he was on the wrong side. Angel can deeply empathize with Faith because he has been where she has. At the same time there's a marked difference. Angel's redemption was basically handed to him on a silver platter. He didn't decide to get a soul and start feeling guilt for his actions again it was forced on him.

The parallels between them culminate in Five by Five, one of my favorite episodes of television ever. Basically Faith has escaped the consequences of her actions and is running away from Buffy. She goes to LA and gets a contract to kill angel at which point a lawfirm will drop all murder charges against her and also continue to pay her to kill people form them.

While Faith is hunting Angel down, the episode flashes back several times to the series of events that started angel's redemption. First Angel deciding to murder a young girl, and getting cursed by her family to regain his soul and feel the guilt for what he did forever.

The next flashback depicts angel's mental breakdown after his ability to feel guilt is restored. He's immediately abandoned by his partner, another soulless vampire who finds his guilt and his soul disgusting. He's left alone with his guilt and there's no comfort in the world for him.

In the third flashback in spite of his guilt, Angel tries to be a monster again and go back to his old self by feeding on a woman in an alleyway only to find the guilt is too strong and he can't bring himself to kill her so he runs away in shame.

Buffy walks the really fine line between the fact that just because you feel guilty doesn't mean you're owed forgiveness or your feelings of guilt take priority over the people you hurt and also that it's painful feeling guilt and everyone at some time feels and struggles with guilt after hurting someone.

Angel is a mass murderer who feels guilty, which like yeah you should feel guilty. He's also a human being feeling genuine remorse with no idea how to make up for his actions.

Angel is able to sympathize with Faith because he knows that guilt, he knows that feeling that there's nothing you can ever do to apologize for your actions and it seems almost better to just kill yourself. To be so hopeless to believe you're just not capable of good.

Angel: (harshly) I can't do it again, Buffy. I can't become a k*ller. Buffy: Then fight it. Angel: It's too hard. Buffy: (desperately) Angel, please, you *have* to get inside. Angel: It told me to k*ll you. You were in the dream. You know. It told me to lose my soul in you and become a monster again. Buffy: I know what it told you. What does it matter? Angel: (raises his voice) Because I wanted to! Because I want you so badly! I want to take comfort in you, and I know it'll cost me my soul, and a part of me doesn't care. He sobs. Buffy is at a loss for words. Angel: Look, I'm weak. I've never been anything else. It's not the demon in me that needs k*lling, Buffy. It's the man. Buffy: You're weak. Everybody is. Everybody fails. Maybe this evil did bring you back, but if it did, it's because it needs you. And that means that you can hurt it. Angel doesn't want to believe her. Buffy: (pleadingly) Angel, you have the power to do real good, to make amends. (raises her voice) But if you die now, then all that you ever were was a monster.

Angel has also previously in the show attempted suicide because he believed he wasn't capable of being better or ever apologizing for his actions and when that happened he had someone who believed in him unconditionally and urged him to keep living.

So, really what right does Angel have to deny Faith that same support? How can we believe Angel's truly grown as a person if he doesn't show other people the same kindness that's been taught to him?

Which leads to one of the most beautiful scenes in all of television.

Faith: "You're gonna die!" Wesley is almost done sawing through his ropes. Faith keeps hitting and kicking Angel. Halfway through this it starts to first rain then pour. Faith: "You hear me? - You don't know what evil is! - I'm bad! - Fight back!" Wesley has freed his hands and is untying the other ropes. Faith keeps whaling on Angel, sometimes he ducks, sometimes the hits connect. Angel grabs a hold of her: "Nice try, Faith." He tosses her away from him. Then walks after her. Angel: "I know what you want." She hits him and he hits back dropping her. She comes back up hitting and screaming, but not making much of a dent. Wesley leans out of the window and sees Faith beating up on Angel. He goes into the kitchen and grabs a butcher knife, then heads for the door. Angel as he dodges another hit: "I'm not gonna make it easy for you." Faith throws herself against Angel screaming: "I'm evil! I'm bad! I'm evil! Do you hear me? I'm bad! Angel, I'm bad! (She begins to sob, grabbing a hold of Angel's shirt and shaking him) I'm ba-ad. Do you hear me? I'm bad! I'm bad! I'm bad. Please. Angel, please, just do it." Wesley comes running out of the house. Faith sobbing: "Angel please, just do it. Just do it. Just k*ll me. Just k*ll me." Angel wraps his arms around her shoulders and pulls her against him. She over balances them and they sink to their knees, Angel still holding her as she cries. Angel: "Shh. It's all right. It's okay. I'm here. I'm right here. Shh."

As I said in my longass Avatar post we could have gotten this scene with Zuko and Azula. Zuko doesn't even have to necessarily forgive her, but we could have seen him at least embrace Azula out of sympathy at the lowest point in her life.

It would have been a parallel to the way when Zuko reunited with Iroh the first thing he did was hug him after Zuko was so worried his Uncle would never forgive him. Even if we didn't get a full redemption arc we could have just gotten this as a start, a sign that things might get better for Azula one day.

This is how I plan on writing Zuko and Azula's arc though. Zuko eventually needs to reach a place of self-awareness where he can help Azula get through the crushing guilt she feels because he's been there too. He had help when he was struggling at his lowest point, and now Zuko being that support for someone else is a way to demonstrate his growth as a person. That's a major theme I want to tackle in this fic, that helping the avatar and being a good firelord isn't the end to Zuko's development.

He can also do that while still holding Azula accountable for the hurt she's caused others and him. To emphasize she needs to actually do something to better herself, because feeling guilt isn't enough.

Faith: "Oh, maybe we - just don't mention it then." Angel: "Maybe we do." Faith: "Are you saying I got to apologize?" Angel: "Think you can?" Faith: "I don’t' know. - How do you say 'Gee, I'm really sorry tortured you I nearly to death?'" Angel: "Well, first off I think I'd leave off the 'Gee.' And secondly I think you have to ask yourself: are you?" Faith: "What?" Angel: "Sorry." Faith: "And what if I *can't* say it? There are some things you can't just take back, no matter how sorry you *are*, right?" Angel: "Yeah, there are. I've got some experience in that area." Faith: "Right. And you've been doing this for a hundred years! I'm not gonna make it through the next ten minutes." Angel: "So make it through the next five, the next minute." Faith: "I don't think I can." Angel: "Yes, you can." Faith walks away: "God, it hurts. I hate that it hurts like this." Angel follows her: "Oh well, it's supposed to hurt. All that pain, all that suffering you caused is coming back on you. Feel it! Deal with it! Then maybe you've got a shot at being free." Faith lets out something between a laugh and a sob: "I've got to be the first Slayer in history sponsored by a vampire." Angel: "Yeah, well, I've got some experience in that area, too."

Once again the fine line between "Yeah, you should feel guilty when you hurt people that's how it works" and also "You can still live with the guilt and get better."

As for Azula and Zuko's relationship and the way I plan on writing it, first and foremost I plan to make things get worse before they get better.

I do want to portray Zuko and Azula as being equally bad to each other. Azula was willing to throw Zuko under the bus for her father's favor. When Zuko is firelord though and the tables are turned and he has power over her, the way he treats her isn't exactly great let's say.

It's almost like abuse is born out of an unequal power dynamic and not just something that bad people do to innocent victims.

I know so far the narrative is incredibly slanted towards Azula, but one I'm just writing the way Zuko acted in the comisc, and two it's from Azula's perspective. Now that Zuko is finally getting his POV I plan on covering a lot of his pain from the way Azula hurt him too.

If you've ever read Interview with a Vampire and the Sequel Lestat, I'm planning on doing something similiar to Lestat and Louis' divorce arc. Each of them narrates a story from their own perspective and each of them paints the other in the worst light possible while highlighting their own qualties.

Also to some extent I do think Zuko believes that he's "the good one". That part of his treatment for Azula comes not from anything Azula's done, but from projecting his worst flaws onto Azula because they were both groomed by Ozai and wanting to convince himself he's NOT LIKE THAT.

Whereas Azula views Zuko as an ungrateful trait. I think they'd both have to essentially get over it. Zuko betrayed the fire nation because the way Azula and Ozai treated him was wrong and the fire nation was wrong. Zuko can't play good victim bad victim. You don't become a good person by pointing the finger and scapegoating someone else as evil, you do it by working on yourself every day.

The way I want to model their relationship is something like Sanemi and Giyu, or Blackfire and Starfire. The pain that they caused each other is legitimate and shouldn't be shied away from but also both ulitmately grew up and survived the same abusive household together. That's a special kind of understanding that they have for each other that no one else does, and I think Zuko needs that understanding from someone. Ursa ran away, Kiyi is an innocent kid, I don't think he could connect with either of them the way that he could with Azula who shared Zuko's same abuse.

Forgiving Azula and seeing how her trauma affected her can also be a way of Zuko forgiving himself and learning about himself. He can look at Azula's abusive behaviors and be like, oh I do that too. I'm not quite over that yet. It's impossible to be truly over the ways my abuse affected me, but I can keep working on it.

This is basically the note I want both of them to end on where they're both still working on redemption together.

ANGEL Faith, wake up! FAITH (wakes) I've rolled the bones. You for me. ANGEL (walks away from the fight with Angelus to talk to Faith) I used to think that. That there'd be a point when I'd paid my dues. ANGEL Faith, listen to me. You saw me drink. It doesn't get much lower than that. And I thought I could make up for it by disappearing. FAITH I did my time. ANGEL Our time is never up, Faith. We pay for everything. FAITH It hurts. ANGEL I know. I know.

Anyway, thnak you for the ask. I'm happy you're interested in my fic. If you have any more questions of comments on my fic feel free to send them.

[jadedandconfusedao3]

P.I.L.F. Professor I'd Like to FUCK

Hermione tapped her foot and cast Tempus for the third time. Slughorn was running late. Again. With fury written across her face, she stormed past her fellow seventh and eighth-year compatriots and hammered on the door.

“Class was supposed to start five minutes ago!” she yelled into the unyielding wood.

When the door finally opened, she huffed with impatience and walked straight into the solid but still totally obnoxious form of Draco Malfoy. After having had a growth spurt during the war and summer months afterwards, he now stood almost half a head taller than her. The effect of which meant that she now spent a great deal of time staring up into his smirking face.

He was everywhere this year. They shared all of the same classes. His signature was on all of the card catalogues of the books she tried to borrow, and he never returned them on time. He was always in Scrivenshafts eyeing off the same quills and journals.

Now he was wasting her class time by encouraging their potions Professor to engage in some mystery project that ate into more of their lessons every day.

“Chill the fuck out, Granger.” He snapped, as she pushed herself off his annoyingly well-muscled chest.

He stepped back and walked over to the front of the room to rejoin Professor Slughorn. Slughorn was carefully stirring a cauldron that bubbled steadily away on the desk. He looked up to see Hermione and gestured with his free hand.

“Do come in, class. Be careful not to walk near the front,” he tutted, “this potion is very volatile, and we wouldn’t want to cause an accident.”

Malfoy was standing watch, keeping an eye on the cauldron and the incoming students. Hermione passed by him with a glare and stomped up to where she shared a table with Harry and Ron. The rest of the class filed in quietly, casting curious glances over to the cauldron. It smelled appalling. She couldn’t imagine what the potion could possibly do for someone to want to ingest something that horrific.

As Slughorn raised his wand to close the door, Harry and Ron came bustling in, panting hard. Hermione rolled her eyes. They were always late and probably quite appreciated Slughorn's new schedule.

Slughorn smiled at Harry. “Harry my boy! Come in, come in. Don’t dawdle now.”

Harry nodded to the wizened old professor as Ron grumbled. Both boys stomped into the classroom throwing glares at Malfoy whilst Slughorn went back to his stirring.

“So glad you could join us, Potter.” Malfoy sneered, “It must be so hard to be timely with the schedule of a celebrity. Sign lots of,” he waved his hand in the air, “paper napkins or something?”

Harry sighed, “Give it a rest, Malfoy,” as he moved passed.

Ron bristled and puffed his chest out as he faced off with Malfoy. “At least people want to hear his name. Instead of shuddering in fear.”

Draco pushed off from the desk as he snarled, “Say that again, Weasel.”

“I said –”

Suddenly the cauldron popped loudly.

“Oh dear,” Slughorn muttered. “The reaction is coming on much faster than expected. You should –

Without warning, several things happened at once. Malfoy pushed Ron away, sending him skidding backwards across the room, before grabbing the lid of the cauldron and attempting to cover it. Slughorn cast a shield charm over the class just before the cauldron exploded with an ear shattering kaboom.

Hermione was thrown backward with the force of it and hit the wall behind her. Her head was ringing as she tried to stand, blinking her eyes. Her vision was slightly blurry, the room fuzzy blocks of colour moving slowly around her. However, after another few blinks, she could see again.

The shield that Slughorn had cast was splattered with potion and had thankfully saved the rest of the class from the fallout. Malfoy and Slughorn however, were a different matter.

She surged forward, lifting her hands to try and determine how to dispel the shield.

“Everybody get back,” she ordered. “We don’t want any of the potion falling on anyone when I take the shield down.”

Around her, the rest of the class murmured their assent and slowly moved away. Harry had crawled up beside Ron, who appeared to be out cold, and nodded to Hermione. When she was sure everyone was safe, she dispelled the shield and began banishing the puddles of potion on the floor.

Slughorn and Malfoy were both motionless shapes on the ground, but she didn’t dare get any closer until the immediate danger had passed. Whilst she found Malfoys presence to be aggravating, she had never wished him actual harm. Especially considering he just saved Ron’s life.

When she finally finished clearing the area she rushed over to kneel by Malfoy. He was lying down, turned away from her. For a moment she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her. She knew he was bigger now, but surely not this much bigger. She frowned; his robes had changed colour as well.

What kind of a potion did that?

She grasped his shoulder, rolled him over and gasped. It hadn’t been a trick of the light. This Malfoy was bigger and much older. His teenage features had hardened into adulthood, his formerly pointy face now firmly chiselled. He started to stir, with slow jerky movements.

“Malfoy.” She said firmly as she leaned over him squeezing his shoulder. “Can you hear me, Malfoy?”

His eyes fluttered open and his gaze zeroed in on her. He raised a hand to her face, cupping her cheek gently.

“Hermione?”

Read the rest on Ao3

The art is also by me. Brought to you through hours and hours of learning how to use clipstudio. ::pulls hair out::

[thatforgottenbasilisk]

Beat the Dead Horse (You'll Get Red White and Blue Confetti)

fandom: marvel

word count: 3521

(AO3)

Some people say that you die the same way you're born. They extrapolate this point to different ends- alone, the more sheltered or depressed folk say; screaming and covered in someone else's blood, say those with a bit more humor, or else those who've lived violent lives; surrounded by loved ones, say all the civilians who have never and will never go to war, who hope to die old instead of young.

Steve doesn't agree with any of them. He was born on July 4th, amid fireworks and celebrations in the still heat of Brooklyn, with both his parents there and already full of love, just a few short years before his Pops passed on, and quite a few more years before Ma joined him. Now, he's sitting alone in the cockpit of a plane hundreds of miles from Brooklyn- but fast closing that gap- in the sharp cold of midwinter. His closest loved ones are only reachable over radio, not that he wants any of them here with him.

Peggy stays with him to the end. He can still hear her voice as the jet hits the water, and he knows that his own radio cutting out on her end must feel something like the tiny breeze he felt against his hand as Bucky just barely missed it; it must feel like finding out about the 107th when he was still just a dancing monkey for good old Uncle Sam; it must feel like other things, too, but Steve can't really think around the burning cold of the water all around him, flooding the whole jet and swallowing him whole.

---

"Steve Rogers was an American hero, there's no doubt about that. He lives on in comic books and archived propaganda films, in childhood memories and history books alike. Captain America is, some say, more myth than man by now; there has even been some debate on whether or not Steve Rogers's transformation under Dr. Erskine's formula was exaggerated in government propaganda (Rich, 1967), or whether there was even a successful test of the Super Soldier serum that took place at all (Waters & Meyer, 1966); some more contemporary and less mainstream authors have even questioned if Steve Rogers was a real person at all, or merely a government prop to aid in the propaganda effort during a time when morale was at a low (Bouchard & Wright, 1971).

Despite these debates, it cannot be overstated the impact that both Captain America's life and loss meant to the American populace, both during the war and even having a substantial ripple effect to the modern day. How many high schoolers are currently writing essays in their English classes about how this author or that poet uses him as a symbol for war, peace, or hope itself? Depending on which books they're reading, it may even be all three at once; and yet, at the same time, how many television advertisements have you seen today that feature Steve Rogers in support of this or that product, his likeness Xeroxed straight from the comic books for the occasion? The man is everywhere. He lives and breathes in your living room, at your kitchen table, on the radio waves and air waves alike.

It can make you wonder, sometimes, if you love him or hate him. He did nothing to most people who are living now, didn't murder any grandfathers- at least, no grandfathers that anybody would be proud to talk about- and yet you can hear the kids and the talk radio men chattering about him, about his legacy, about how backwards America is because of it. How he's gone from 'hero' to propaganda machine for the more Conservative folk, how he represents all that's wrong with the world today, how he stands up for nothing but racism and war and staying in 1955 for everybody's lives ad infinitum.

It's absurd. It's ahistorical. It's shaping modern culture as we know it."

- Richard Elliot, "A Second Transformation of Steve Rogers," February 1973.

---

The light is bright enough to be seen even through his closed eyelids.

He's not sure of when, exactly, he becomes aware of this fact. For all he knows, the light's always been bright, and he's just closer to the surface than he thought he would end up.

Is he dead? He doesn't even feel particularly awake, so that's not an unrealistic possibility. Maybe he's floating in front of the gates of Heaven, though he honestly feels more like he's lying on an Army cot more than floating anywhere. He'd thought that clouds, especially the Holy kind, would be a bit softer, but maybe there's some divine meaning behind it. There's a divine meaning behind everything, that's what his Ma used to say, and he's not about to question her or her faith now.

It's a long moment before it actually occurs to him to open his eyes and start tuning into the world around him. Everything is syrupy and slow, like it's just a bit too early on a winter morning and he's trying to think through the fog that's accumulated on the horizon and over the river. He feels like his brain's a car engine that's in dire need of oil, and the second he opens his eyes is when a mechanic finally pops open the hood of the car.

The lights are too bright, almost like they're pumping too much electricity into them at once. How much power is this building using? It can't be as much as the lights alone imply, because the bedding and the room both insist that this is nothing more than a military hospital- and they wouldn't waste money on the lights when they could be using that same money for more weapons. He jumps up off the bed, because something isn't right, and either something's happened or he's being played for a fool, probably both.

He looks out the window to see New York, from a few floors up, but it doesn't smell of the usual factory smoke and he can't hear any cars or people on the ground. The skyline looks too flat, and the window is situated such that he can't look down at the city, just at the windowsill. The only sounds that he can hear are coming from the radio, which is tuned to a baseball game that he idly listens to for a few moments as he steps back from the window and towards the bed.

After a moment, he realizes that the game sounds familiar; he remembers sneaking into it with Bucky just before he was drafted, sitting in the back of the stands with a terrible view but a view nonetheless, because they'd both gotten the day off from their respective jobs- Bucky at the docks, and himself at the local grocer's- and they figured it was a decent way to spend the day. He wouldn't forget that game even if they'd cut his head open and plucked the memory out of him.

Somebody's definitely trying to play him for a fool, but before he can think of what to do about it, the door to the room opens. In walks a woman, her tie done up all wrong, and all that he can do is demand answers for where he is, who's taken him, what's happened.

She denies everything, tells him that he's in a military hospital, and he truly commends the Germans on being able to fake American accents so well. Did they recruit a real American, he wonders? No, they couldn't have, because if this woman was truly American, she'd know how to tie her tie in the way that American women are supposed to. She looks like a man tied her necktie, so not American.

He's sick of this already. If he's being taken prisoner, at least respect him enough to tell him that instead of doing a stupid song and dance routine of trying to trick him into thinking he's safe. He moves past the woman and starts running for an escape, barely paying attention to the kind of compound they've put him in, only that there are a lot of windows and a lot of people in black suits. He runs out, hoping against hope that there will be backup, somewhere, or at least some kind of information on where he is and who's found him.

It feels like five seconds and five years before he stops. It's the middle of a busy street, with cars that look like Howard Stark personally engineered each and every one of them, while the buildings climb higher than any he's ever imagined. They're covered in screens, with what looks like hundreds of different colored film reels being projected on every one.

... It's still the same Manhattan, the man he later learns is Fury tells him. Just seventy years after you left it.

---

"Ronald Reagan's economic system is unsustainable, as stated far earlier than this publication by far better economists than I. Since I am not an economist, I feel that I should instead apply my own expertise to our current climate: American Nationalism is now higher than it's been since 1956, and that's not a coincidence.

Ronald Reagan, now famously having played a minimal role in the film, "Captain America: Siberian Takeover" (Russo & Russo, 1954), has become a symbol for both the American Right and America itself- though in a capacity greater than that of the acting President. His liberal use of Steve Rogers' likeness in his campaign makes his platform obvious to those who have studied the man in depth: he's practically synonymous with the caricature "Uncle Sam," and in a time of dwindling faith in the government and in America as a whole, in a time of disillusionment with the establishment, here he- and, by extension, Reagan- is to save the day against the Communists instead of against the Nazis.

So he wins the election, and all of a sudden everything is prosperous and the economy is booming. Everyone's buying cars, everyone's buying houses, everyone's buying everything and the 80's are already a time of hedonism and plenty mere months after his election. Captain America wins again, at least until this bubble pops and we all swing back the other way on the political pendulum."

- Megan Oher, "Reaganomics, Nationalism, and Captain America," December 1983.

---

It only takes two weeks before they need him again.

Two weeks to mourn everyone he's ever met. Two weeks to acclimate to the peace he was assured that he would have, only for it to be torn away.

He didn't miss the military.

---

TOM: Is that- is that the real Captain America? Fighting the Chitauri, there in the video, you see that?

KATIE: I do see it, Tom. I'd heard that they found his body about a month ago, but nothing on if he was actually alive all this time. We'd have heard, we're the number one source of information in New York, there's no way we could have missed this.

TOM: Well, either we did, or they managed to clone him. How long does it take to grow a man in a test tube?

KATIE: More than a month, I think.

TOM: Probably. But modern science is a wonder!

KATIE: I think they might have just figured out the serum from his body and given it to someone else, decked that guy out in costume instead. Seems less time-consuming than an entire clone, and besides, wouldn't a clone of Steve Rogers wind up like the pre-serum guy? He was shorter than me and scrawnier than you!

TOM: Yeah, unless it went into his DNA, they'd waste their money on a clone... the serum sounds about right. Unless it's just a really buff guy they found at some gym.

KATIE: He swears he doesn't do steroids or anything.

[STUDIO LAUGHTER]

TOM: Oh, no, of course not. Totally legit, just as strong as Captain America but completely naturally.

KATIE: Of course, of course.

- Transcript of the talk show, "Ragging On with Katie and Tom," Season 7, Episode 6; October 2012.

---

There's a press conference afterwards.

There are actually several press conferences afterwards, but they all blend together after a while, all the same information to different people and phrased in different ways. Yes, the Avengers are under SHIELD jurisdiction, or Yes, Loki is contained and there is no danger of him coming back and wreaking more havoc on New York or anywhere else.

There are also the fun ones, the ones that he'd thought were public information up until now.

Are you the real Steve Rogers? is a common one. He considers, for half a second the first time, lying and telling them No. He knows that if he's honest he'll never have a moment's peace again, he can never drop the act of Captain America, he'll always be beholden to upholding this title that's grown far larger than he could have ever imagined. His name is in history books, his costume worn by every actor who managed to claw their way into it both on Broadway and in the cinemas, every moment of his life before 1945 dissected and consumed by everyone who's gone through any American History class. He could shuck that weight off right now, he could pretend to be just the latest in a long line of actors and liars alike.

The temptation only lasts for a fraction of a moment, though, and then he remembers himself. Yes, he says, then and every time thereafter. I am Steve Rogers.

---

REPORTER: What is your opinion on Steve Rogers coming back to life out of the ice?

MELANIE: Well, um, I don't- I don't think I like it very much.

REPORTER: And why is that?

MELANIE: I mean, the last time things were so much about Steve Rogers, it was 9/11 and everybody started hating anybody who wasn't the same shade as printer paper, or- or dressed just slightly too masculine or slightly too feminine. Everyone was scared of everyone, and that was already going to happen after all this alien business, but I think the man himself coming back just makes it all worse.

REPORTER: So you think he shouldn't have been unearthed at all? Just left to rot?

MELANIE: I mean- I mean, he's still a person, and of course he deserves to live and all that, I just wish it weren't so public. I wish he just... didn't do all those press conferences, or helped out in New York but not in costume, or lied and said he wasn't really Captain America. It's not even his fault, he didn't even do anything, he's a product of his time and everybody putting his face all over everything doesn't help, but I wish that he wasn't the biggest signal that me and my friends all need to find somewhere to hide. I wish his face wasn't a sign that someone's going to start committing hate crimes against me, or worse.

- Interview Transcript, "Channel 9 News, Chicago," January 2013.

---

Steve doesn't understand why people seem so wary of him.

It's not the same kinds of people that used to be wary of him; instead, it seems to be reversed, with polite society welcoming him with open arms while the people on the outskirts skitter away like rats from a cat. When did it change? Even in 1945, it wasn't this bad, because he still easily got the trust of all the Howling Commandos- though, that might have been aided by his reckless rescue of all of them from Hydra.

Still, the Commandos had thought of him as one of them, an outcast from the military and society same as the rest of them.

Tony says the reason can be found online- or, more accurately, he'd said, Google it, I'm not explaining a half century of history when Wikipedia can do it better. So, here he is, typing away at a computer and routinely forgetting that he can backspace and correct his typos, only to remember when the machine spits back strange answers to his searches.

Everybody seems to think he's someone he's not. Everything he's getting back is telling him that Captain America is nationalism in a nutshell, which was true when he was filming all those propaganda movies and punching Hitler from California to France, but nationalism's come to mean something different now. Nationalism now means racism, means fear, means hate; and, again, it didn't not mean those things seventy years ago, but it's all the more apparent now that this is what he, as a person, has been reduced to.

It all comes back to the root problem: he's not a person anymore, not really, and now there's almost nobody who knows that anymore. There's nobody who hasn't grown up hearing about him, there's nobody around who he can just be any other man with rather than Steve Rogers, Captain America, and all the baggage that that entails. There's nobody he can talk to about Bucky, how they used to be something that wasn't quite best friends and was more along the lines of what he was on his way to being with Peggy after they'd ended that; there's nobody he can talk to about Peggy, either, and she's her own kind of legend, too, untouchable just like him.

Everybody thinks he's someone who would hate people like himself, which is ironic and at least a little bit funny. He thinks Tony would laugh at it, if he didn't hate Steve from the start of all this. Still, he's the one of all of them best acquainted with the future and how to make people think in the ways he wants them to think from a public relations perspective; if Steve wants people to stop associating him with that kind of regressive hatred, Tony is the best man for him to call, and he doesn't hate him so much as to give him bad advice on purpose.

Would people stop thinking that I hate minorities if I tell them that Bucky and I used to go out? may not have been the best thing for Steve to open that phone call with, though.

After quite a bit of coughing on Tony's end of the line, followed by an aggressive line of questions that inadvertently reveal quite a bit about what stories Howard chose to pass along versus what he chose to omit, Steve has his answer of Yes, but the PR people will hate you forever if you don't talk to them about it first. Steve is of the opinion that many PR people would rather he not say anything about that, and it's not really something he feels like bringing up, considering that they'd both broken it off long before he met Peggy or had the serum, but it does seem like an easier bomb to drop on everyone than the other option of insisting that he doesn't agree with the way his image has been used for the past seventy years and very slowly winning people over with that. He'd rather set the record straight immediately.

There isn't an opportunity for a while, and in that time, he finds the word bisexual and thinks he likes it quite a bit- and then he thinks of the irony in the knowledge that many people think he'd hate anyone who likes that word, too. He has to say something soon; immigrants are afraid, every kind of minority is afraid, and the conservative politicians are having the same heyday they've been having for months.

Finally, finally, there's a press conference scheduled by Tony, one that he doesn't tell anyone the purpose of, and for that Steve is eternally grateful. He thinks he's starting to bridge the gap that Howard built between them, constructed of distorted memories and insistence that Steve would have supported this or that when in all reality he wouldn't.

I am Steve Rogers, he says, mirroring the first thing he ever said to this particular public, far removed from his own public in his own time. I am Steve Rogers, and my mother was an immigrant to this country. I am Steve Rogers, and I am bisexual. These things are not congruent with the things that many politicians say that I am, or say that I support. I keep having words put in my mouth, and I am here today to stop it. I do love my country, but I do not love the things that my country has done in my name. I do not support the hatred or the oppressive agenda that my country has used my name to further. Thank you.

Reporters are practically screaming over each other, trying to get their questions answered. The lights are brighter than they've ever been, with camera flashes blinding him better than any fluorescents ever could.

Steve was born again the moment he woke up alone in that too-bright room in SHIELD a few short months ago. Now, in this too-bright room full of a cacophony from far too many people, he's killed something that's been alive far longer than he ever was.

[stesierra]

Today, I'd like you to meet the other two main characters in Mud-Child. Here's chapter two. Chapter One is here:

CHAPTER TWO

Go to Derryford for a job. That's what everyone said. Thousands of people crammed into that place, all who thought they were better than farm or townsfolk. They couldn't scrub their own walls or care for their own horses. Had never seen their houses burnt down by invaders, or their fields looted by the duke's soldiers. Had never shoveled shit in their lives.

That's what everyone had told Bren.

Ten days into his visit to the city, he leaned against a wall on Merchant's Street and tossed a worm-pocked apple from hand to hand. Free jobs, his ass. The war had reached everywhere. Even here.

A chill gust of wind whistled past his ears and blew the stink of ox-shit up his nose. Some geezer had bent his ear at the last inn that'd let him squat in their stable, telling him just sixty year ago the city would've reeked of nothing but horse-dung and ladies' perfume. Bren knew horses, but they hadn't been common since before he was born. As for ladies' perfume? He avoided it – and its wearers — whenever possible.

He took a crunch of apple, and his long black hair tumbled into his eyes. His budget hadn't stretched to cover haircuts in months. He brushed it out of the right eye, the blue one, but he let it hide his orange left iris from the world.

"Messenger?" a nasal, grating voice yelled over the clatter of ox carts and the arguing of street sellers. Bren turned and spotted a merchant dressed in a stainless white coat and a battered top hat. The man stood outside a stall, his too-wide eyes twitching under the brim of his hat. "Are there no messengers in this town?"

A girl, her patched calico skirts tucked up about bony knees, jumped out from between the stalls and darted up to him. "Lots, sir. Carry your message?"

She had the local accent, vowels longer and consonants softer than in the country. She was no older than ten, and her skin was the same dark chestnut shade as the best of horses. With that complexion, she must have blood from Gwenes, like Bren. She could've been his sibling, except Little Sister here had two blue eyes, not one. And no sibling of Bren's had lived.

A new girl in a ragged apron and rolled-up pants elbowed Little Sister into the street, into the path of an ox cart. The driver screamed at her, a shrill invocation of the gods. Bren winced and started forward, his apple forgotten.

The new girl was pure Sarican pale and nearly white-haired. Not a good thing to be in these days, when Sarica and Rebora were at war. Safer to be one of the shades of brown found in the average Reboran mongrel.

"I know the streets like my hand," the blonde said. "And I'm least twice as fast as everybody else."

"Are you?" the merchant said. "Well, I could use speed."

Little Sister pushed back up to them, unfazed by her near trampling. "She's lying. She don't know this street, or I would've seen her before. But I'll take your message, sir."

The blonde glared. "I know the street! I know all them. I was born here, behind an old lolly cart on the corner, and I'll get the message there fastest!"

"We was all born here," Little Sister said. "You don't know nothing."

The merchant's caterpillar-like brows furrowed. "I don't care which of you takes it, but I'll only give it to one. Make up your minds which of you it'll be."

The thin sunlight flashed off the knife the blonde yanked from her sleeve. It slashed out, but Little Sister tackled its owner around the knees. They crashed into the muddy gutter.

Bren ran for them. His hair streamed back behind him, uncovering his orange eye.

The merchant lifted his gaze skyward and doffed his hat. "Oh, for the gods' sakes. This won't do. Will no one carry my message? Ah! You, cursed fellow! Can you deliver a message?"

The girls stopped kicking and stabbing, their chance at the job lost. Bren skidded to a halt under the force of their glares. His stomach grumbled, but he tossed Little Sister the rest of his apple.

The merchant said, "There's coin in it for you."

Bren said, "I can, if you'll tell me where to take it."

"The old guardhouse. As quickly you can. Haste is of the essence." The merchant threw him the letter and three pennies.

Miser. But it would buy another night in a stable. He took the money.

#

The walk across the city was long, noisy and disheartening. Bren passed glass-fronted stores, some of which weren't even boarded over, and heavily guarded stables filled with the nicker and stamping of horses, and inns with drunken carolers hanging around their open doors. He had applied to work at all those places. They had turned him away, and they hadn't been kind about it.

The old guardhouse loomed on the north-east edge of the city, set off from the shops and houses in its own stone building. No one loitered outside that building, and the traffic that passed was hushed. Bren had not looked there for work. Life had taught him better.

A flag hung over the door, a blue rectangle cut by the skinny body of a fanged snake. The locals called it "the duke's earthworm," but not anywhere a soldier or guard might hear them.

The heavy door of the guardhouse squeaked open under his hand. Bren lingered in the doorway, glancing about for danger.

The front room of the guard house was wallpapered with butcher's paper and stuck full of tacks that pinned up yellowed fliers and posters — and, in the corner, some woman's flouncy drawers. The fliers screamed "Able-bodied? Curse-free? Soldiers wanted. Regular wages" and "Man sought for impregnation. Good blood lines only. Cleanliness a must. No pay" and "Suspect your neighbor of magic? Report to the duke's guard, not the temple!"

Two guards played cards on a scratched table, a pile of brass buttons scattered before them. One muttered, his voice a scratchy city drawl.

"Sirs?" Bren said.

They looked up, and their eyes narrowed in unison. One slapped his hand down on the table and rose, leaving the cards fanned on the table behind him.

Bren took a step back and pulled out the letter. It crinkled between his fingers. "I've a message for you, sirs."

The guard snatched it from his fingertips and broke the sloppy wax seal. The other tapped his hand into a neat rectangle and asked, "What is it?"

"Merchant fusspot again. Another complaint. The neighbor's paying some witch to have him cursed, the neighbor is selling unlicensed goods, the neighbor employs doxies and whores."

The second guard snickered. "Going to go read that to the neighbor?"

The first snorted. "And waste time breaking up the fight when the neighbor hears what fusspot called his daughters? File it in the usual place, Carter." He pivoted back towards Bren. "I ought to fine you ten pennies for bringing this drivel."

Bren's hand closed on his coin purse. The merchant's three pennies sat like ballast at the bottom. "Sirs, it wasn't my message."

"I told that idiot he'd be paying the nuisance fee if he bothered us again. Why shouldn't I take it out of you?"

"I don't have any money, sirs. I didn't know—"

The other guard stood and strolled up to them. "No money? What are you doing in the city, then?"

The first guard leaned close. "We don't like vagrants or beggars. Especially not your kind, odd-eye."

Bren scowled and thought, once again, about getting an eye patch. It was only pride that stopped him; pride, and the desire for depth perception. "I'm neither. I work for my beer. I came to the city to get a job."

"If you got no job, you're nothing but a drain on the temples. We got enough of those. Pack up the cards, Carter. Odd-eye needs an escort to the city gates."

The guards started towards him. It was too late to bolt for the door. Far too late to simply not waltz here like an idiot trusting in the goodness of guardsfolk.

"Now, in case you think your curse is going to get you out of this, know that if I grow frog warts for laying hands on you, I can have you lynched."

Bren's back scraped the wall. "I have a job! I just got hired. I start tomorrow."

"That so? Where?"

Bren's eye fell on the recruitment poster pinned up across from him. Inspiration struck. "The army took me on to care for their horses. It's steady work."

The first guard laughed. "They wouldn't hire you."

"Why not? I got twenty years of experience with horses." That part was true, not that it had helped him. "The animals don't care what I look like."

The grin on the guard's face crushed Bren's hope for a quick escape. "Well, we'll just see if the officers do."

#

They didn't tie his hands. The little trodden-down part of his brain that accepted being marched to the edge of the city as normal appreciated it. The rest of him seethed with resentment.

The army camp stood just south of the city, a sprawl of unfinished wood buildings and canvas tents overwhelmed by the duke's snake-flags. It looked half-assed, like the builders had planned to uproot themselves at any time. Maybe a hundred years ago, when the war had just started, they had. But the weathering on the buildings told Bren a temporary solution had become permanent.

The walls were thin. Even outside, he could hear the banter of the soldiers, the low complaints of someone on guard. A loud and disconcerting belch.

The guards prodded him towards a building with "administration" tacked up over the door. The paint on the sign was peeling, as though some old maid had cursed it with boils. They pushed him inside.

At the back of the building a lean, raw-boned man sat at a desk and shuffled paperwork. A pipe, stained with use, lay at his left hand. The man looked up at the three of them. His voice was deep with authority, but so scratchy he must take five or six pipes a day. "What's this?"

One of the guards slapped Bren's shoulder. "We were just checking this fellow's references. He says he was just hired on by you folk. That so?"

The officer laid his paperwork down and leaned on the desk. It creaked. A green and gold cockade bloomed on the shoulder of his blue uniform, but Bren didn't remember what rank it designated. "What's his name?"

The guard chuckled. "If you hired him, shouldn't you know it?"

"You think I remember every fresh face around here, gentlemen? His name."

Bren swallowed. "Bren. Bren Turnbull."

The officer looked Bren up and down. A corner of his mouth twitched upward. "Bren Turnbull. Our newest monster-herder. Yes, that's right."

Bren gaped at him.

The guard said, "He said horses."

The officer shrugged. "Well, I don't know what our recruiter told him, but now that he's signed on, he'll work where I want him."

"Sorry to bother you, sir," said the second guard.

"No bother at all. Leave him here. He has some paperwork left to do."

Bren stood stock-still until the door had slammed behind the guards. Then he burst, "What do you think you're playing at?"

"What am I playing at?" the officer repeated. "Funny you should ask, since it isn't me playing games." He leaned back in his seat. "Yes, I think you'll do. You're tall enough, if a bit older than our usual recruits."

"I didn't agree to join the army," Bren said. "I never enlisted and you know it."

"Do I? I think you'll find you did. Didn't you dream of riding monsters into battle as a boy?"

Bren crossed his arms and glared. His glare was particularly impressive, he knew. It was the eye. But the officer didn't even flinch.

Oh, Bren had worked around the army many years before, like almost every young man had. He'd driven carts and rubbed down horses, but when the real fighting had been done, it hadn't been his job to do it. He liked it that way. He said, "I'm not a soldier. Not a monster-handler. I take care of horses."

The officer steepled his hands. "It's a major offense to lie to the guards, friend. They'll fine you for that. Ten pounds, I think it is."

Bren swallowed. Twelve pennies to a pound. He didn't have a fraction of it. "If you can't pay the fine?"

The officer's smile flashed yellowed teeth. "Debtor's prison. Or the mines."

Bren wanted to punch him.

"I don't think you want me to tell the guards we don't have an agreement. Do you, Mr. Turnbull?"

#

He should've picked prison.

The deer carcass disappeared head first, its glazed eyes and dangling tongue vanishing into the pulsing mass. The deer didn't actually move; the chest of the monster flowed around it. It slurped like a drunkard sucking at a bottle of ale. Bren didn't know what it smelled like; he had his hand smashed flat over his nose.

The soldier next to him smirked. He hadn't bothered to cover his face. "If you're going to throw up, don't do it here. If it takes your breakfast, the whole thing'll stink of it for months."

Bren wasn't going to throw up. He wasn't. The taste in his mouth was just apple, not acid. He said, strangled, "How could a little stomach juice make it worse?"

The soldier shrugged. "Doesn't smell so bad. It's magic. It don't rot. Flies eat it, but it don't rot."

The monster was made of meat. Raw meat, veined with fat and gristle, and shoved into a vaguely bestial form. It had abandoned most of that form to feed, but a few touches still lingered. A slab of beef ribs formed an unshapely thigh. The paw wrapped around the deer's back leg had pork sausages for toes, and a turkey carcass made an unlikely head.

It was sucking the deer into itself, adding it to its torso like a child squishing two lumps of dough together.

Bren said, "Where do you get a thing like that?"

The soldier spat. "Butcher's wife made it. He got himself wounded at the front lines, couldn't get a child on her, and she wouldn't let anyone else take his place."

"Of course she didn't." Bren looked away from the meat monster as it took the last of the deer up with particularly loud slurp. "I suppose it didn't matter to her someone might end up cursed."

"She was a sweet-tempered thing. No curses come out of that sort."

Bren, who knew curses, said, "A monster's bad enough. They should know better."

"You ought to be glad for those barren old virgins. You wouldn't have a job, otherwise." The soldier flung a rope around the meat monster. The twine squished through its loose flesh, but bone stopped it. "This one near killed the butcher, though. They may be brainless things, but they don't hold still to be chopped up, either. Something for you to keep in mind."

Bren flinched when the other end of the rope bounced off his chest. He caught the leash, felt the vibration of the monster moving on the other end of the taut line.

"You're crazy to take this job," the soldier said. "You cursed lot are fearless."

"We aren't," Bren said, staring at the monster as it sucked its mass back into the shape of limbs. Was it too late to run back north and leave the city behind all together?

"You'll like the perks, though."

"Will I?"

"Food and wages, and no questions ask. Army's guarantee." The man tapped his nose. "Keep the monsters repaired and under control, and nothing else will matter. No history. No curses."

Bren's hand flew to his orange eye. Well. He had needed a job. Now, disgusting or not, he had one. He might as well make the best of it. "I'll hold you to that."

#

The woman-creature had destroyed its offering. That was bad.

The being had tried its best to fix the cylinder, but she had thrown it in a bucket of water. The clay object would soften and go to pieces there.

The being vaguely remembered how the water would soak down into it, back when the being was still in the earth. It touched its own strangely solid arms. They were smooth and slightly sticky, but if it focused, its surface hardened, and the stickiness faded.

Water wouldn't soak it now, it thought, and then marveled. It didn't remember thinking before it had climbed out of the pit. It remembered being earth. The woman-creature had dug it out of the hill and taken it home like she wanted it.

She didn't seem to want it now.

There were other memories, but they didn't belong to the being. Vague impressions of the feel of coarse wool on skin, the catch of smooth cotton against callused hands, the burning of muscles and aching bones and the hot agony of fire. Whiffs of smell and hints of flavor— blueberry muffins, wet earth, cough syrup — were most maddening of all. It couldn't scent or taste anything now.

The memories gave meaning to the woman-creature's noises and her face's contortions when the being had climbed out to meet her. She had been angry.

Something very new caught at the being's mind. Fear. What would happen to it now? It wanted to stay with the woman-creature. It could almost remember being her. That meant she was important.

It touched its new face. Everything was confusing. But what it did understand was that the woman-creature had made it more like her. That had to mean something. Perhaps it meant that it was wanted.

It lifted a shapeless hand before it and concentrated. Fingers spread and smoothed.

@anonymousfoz

@moremysteriesthantragedies

@elizababie

@sm-writes-chaos

@bellascarousel

@palebdot

@hyba

@da-na-hae

@macabremoons

@the-dragon-chronicler

[maccreadysbaby]

CRASH AND BURN™︎

fem!oc x preston garvey

in which a strange girl shows up in the commonwealth to tell the minutemen that an old enemy is rising up from the capital wasteland, and they’re not just coming for kicks and giggles. oh, and an unassuming second-in-command manages to catch her silver eye, even on the brink of war.

❝ if this is what it feels like to fall for you, garvey, i don’t want to stop until i crash and burn ❞

this is chapter one. full chapter masterlist can be found here.

TW: none

❝ A NEW LEASE ON HUMANITY ❞

Diamond City, Boston, CW

Sept 12, 2288, 2100

— DIAMOND CITY WENT QUIET AFTER THE SUN HAD SET. Heartley didn’t quite know what she’d expected, really. The Commonwealth wasn’t a place with bustling nightlife, unless the raids on settlements and numerous homicides conducted by gangs in the area counted. For it to be the hustling and bustling, populous center of post-apocalyptic Boston that it was, it sure was… quiet. At least when it was dark outside.

Heartley ran her out of place, neatly manicured pointer finger around the rim of her purified water, steel gray eyes watching and calculating the movements of everybody around her like some kind of machine. Her long, easily distinguishable, vibrant red hair was tied into a braid and hidden beneath the hood of her black duster. A black bandana covered the entirety of her face besides her eyes. Beneath her duster sat black cargo pants, a black turtleneck, and a set of genuine gunner combat armor, hand-painted with the same dark color. If she didn’t wear black, she felt too exposed. Too bright. Too easy to see. Even her feet and hands were covered — one by boots, the other, fingerless gloves — because exposing any part of herself without quiet consideration could get her and everyone around her killed in an instant. Because they were everywhere. Lurking. Searching for her like a lion on the prowl.

The robot at the noodle counter had been kind. Or so she thought — it was only the second robot she’d encountered in the Commonwealth, and the other was British with a bad attitude. The one here kept offering her food over the counter despite her many kind denials.

“Not too culture shocked, are you?” Came a soft, but smooth tenor voice from her left. She didn’t turn her head, only catching the swift movement of his turning toward her in her peripheral.

“You say it as though I’m a child,” She replied, slowly turning the water can in a circle on the counter. She saw him shift from the corner of her eye.

“Just checking in. We did jump headlong into… an entire new world littered with death and destruction,” He took the time to choose his words carefully. It was something he did often, which she believed more people should do — take the time to think through their words, feeling out when to apply pressure or ease off, making mental notes of every single syllable that comes out of their own mouth.

The easiest way to learn someone’s intentions, their deepest, darkest desires, was to simply listen. Truly hang off of every word they spoke. Something she wished she’d learned long ago.

“I’m okay, Markus,” She responded, finally sparing him a glance. Her cold, steel eyes met his. They were an anomaly, or so they’d heard. Not even zero-point-zero-zero-five percent of the population was graced with heterochromia, or two different colored eyes, anymore. And the sage green iris that sat in his left eye, and the deep amber that sat in his right, showed just how much of an anomaly he was.

Markus nodded. He had the hood of a tan duster pulled tightly over his head. It was old — the sleeves had been cut short, almost like a vest, so the long sleeves of his black shirt far surpassed them. The rest of his outfit was a mirror image of Heartley’s. Black and covered. Everything besides his face.

His hypnotizing eyes were placed carefully amongst his perfectly symmetrical features. He had a deep olive skin, and dark hair cropped close to his head. His upper lip was thin, his bottom not much bigger, and his nose made a perfect curve that pre-war women would’ve envied him for. Only in the sunlight, and with deep concentration could Heartley see the faint freckles that danced across his cheeks and nose, but even in the neon lights of Diamond City, she could imagine them all in their places.

“I’m not,” He admitted simply, shifting his gaze back towards the noodle robot ahead. Heartley turned her head fully that time.

“What do you mean?”

He shrugged, multicolored eyes hopping across their surroundings as he worked up a careful response. “My new… identity, new abilities, instincts… plus the world around us. I’m not sure how to process it all.”

Heartley looked forward, swirling the water in the can as she got lost in thought.

“I mean, look at him,” Markus faintly gestured the noodle bot ahead of them. It was stirring a pot, murmuring its singular voice line to bystanders as they passed. “I look like that on the inside. I know I look like that on the inside, and yet I can’t help but feel so utterly human.”

She sucked in a breath, taking note at the sudden emotional shift in the conversation. “Because you are.”

“I’m not. Don’t deceive yourself,” He ordered, glancing down at the counter his hands were folded on top of. “I used to be.”

Heartley couldn’t help the pang of guilt that blossomed inside her chest at his words. She knew they were true no matter had badly she didn’t want to believe them.

“You’re still my best friend,” She replied, not even shifting in the slightest despite the emotion in her statement. He shook his head.

“Am I? Or am I just his conscience downloaded into a synthetic body?”

Heartley shifted again, crossing her legs. “I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“Okay,” Was all he said.

Together they sat, hood beside hood, deep into the dark night that encompassed Diamond City’s center.

To understand them, you need to know their story.

Here it is.

>>

[the-firebird69]

There's a few other things to note the first is John remillard is dead we hate him and we need to get him out of there I'm so sick of hearing about this idiot he doesn't know anything he's trying to go down there and he can't get there and he's pitiful he's a horrible idiot we need them in and that's all I'm saying and I'm going to write why he puts Bob's everywhere too many bombs everywhere and we need them out he wants to have a meeting with Duke Nukem Blockbuster and have him headed up and he said he will so I'm going to schedule it so sick and tired of having so much s*** out there he keeps saying we don't need to do this we don't have to have so much stuff out there of theirs and we don't feel like hardly anything for a while and they're just sitting there doing nothing they had spaceships we do see what he's saying there's no real reason for for it and he wants it trimmed and we need it trimmed it's gross we're just about to do it and we're planning to do it but we mustn't let it ever happen again we need the upper hand and we don't need this much cover we're going to hurt ourselves and our people it's wrong

Thor Freya

We need to have a meeting with everybody up there and we need to have it down here and it has to be about urgency we're fooling around with stuff here and we're messing with these people and we're pushing them and it's to preempt and it's probably my cadre they're not wrong in doing it because we never seem to have enough troops or back up or things under control it is our fault for not properly communicating to our people that we need them in and we need skilled people and immediately I don't care if they're from Timbuktu in France they're going to sign on and they're going to do it now to save themselves and us there are people and I'm tired of this nonsense we need to tell them to do it they need to be instructed. Furthermore we need the troops now right now to keep ourselves from exploding not want to blow up and miss out on seeing my wife and my children and my friends have helped me my whole life including them I don't think it's fair that we don't recognize this is a simple task and we're hiding from me from it not me I want everybody called in from everywhere and then down here the same meeting and to talk about why are people are not signed on and how to get them to and I want to notice it out tonight and everyday we need skilled people immediately we are in trouble we're in our need this is a war we need people for space defense immediately to catch space to breathe Earth blows up we don't need to have a device down there to prove there could be one that we can't find necessarily 100% we need to explain that and not allow them to do it to prove that they can I'm sick and tired of this s*** I want someone to listen to my f****** order

Zues

Hera

What is saying is true we need to have a meeting and have Duke and Blockbuster headed up we're playing with fire and we cannot keep doing it and we need him to say it correctly and we need all of us in and we need to hire skilled people and move the others into their jobs right now and train where we are it's a great idea he had it just now with her he says if you're over there they're over here you're still going to sign on cuz we need you and we're going to make a mandate of some kind there's a way to say it and I'm going to write it down right now and we're writing if you have these skills you are requested and required to report to duty something like that we're going to send it out

Thor Freya

I want every man woman and child who's active duty in a certain rank at this meeting tomorrow and we're going to write it up and we want it and he's going to have a little meeting himself you know he's been working all sorts of stuff and all of its recruiting and he's saying is start doing it and we'll have to hire and people are not doing it and they have permission and everything and the reason is they're busy doing other stuff so he says we need transportation and we do I said we're not going to get to and from anywhere infiltrating without it and we need to get on it and this is very slow so we need a few hits we have one he's right we just need to do it and we need to start complaining and get it done and we need to do it backwards bja said it you're not getting it so you make the beer and send it to him and we use it and you're asking for it and we get our money back now we have to activate this stuff and we're going to send it out tomorrow and we will have a list of things to activate and run with the cart in front of the horse the beer is one of them there's a few of them the Pontiac is another kit cars we discussed with the panels and plant-ons there's a monstrous crowd that we do that

Olympus

[louis-mori-17]

I've not "started" this AU yet, but... I, more or less, know a few things about it.

Ladybug it's the substitute of Twilight in this. They are such paranoids, they would be best friends and, at the same time, continuing don't trusting each other. A plan it's not sure, 200 even less and, of course, anxiety everywhere. Ladybug is known by this name because she created her personal bugs, unobtainable from everybody except her. Young and the most serious among all spies, almost impossible to recognize her when she's playing the part, because her younger self - who's the cause of most of her traumas - takes the spotlight... And she could have never be a spy, never. Her cover it's like sawer in a tailor shop, that, incredibly, will also help her with the mission.

Chat Noir/Adrien Agreste it's the substitute of Thorn Princess, aka Yor Briar. Two dorks, naive and The cutest, loved by everyone in the universe... And both of them would clearly kill everyone who just thought of hurting their little ones. His name takes after his habit of night attacks and his weapons: iron claws. As cover, he works as an architect, who's pacific and passive the most of the time, but people still talks dirty about him just because.

After a long, long, looong conversation with myself, I thought that Plagg would've been the perfect choice for the role of Anya. An orphan who likes cheese, his manticore plushie and, of course, Spy Wars... because he likes guns and seeing bad people die, even in anime. He's more... selfish and capricious then Anya, but with Adrien he will eventually change a little. Then he will be bad just to drive his mother crazy, of course.

Alya is: Frankie

Tikki is: Damian.

Trixx is: Becky.

Duusu and Nooroo are: Emile and Ewen.

Chloé is: Yuri Briar.

Nino is: Nightfall.

Kagami is: Handler/Sylvia Sherwood.

Felix is: The Shopkeeper.

Luka is: Donovan Desmond.

Lila is: Melinda Desmond.

I don't know if I'll even draw something about this... Tell me if you want to know more! I still thank you for reading this.

See you soon!

[bubbleteaimagines]

Allo Can I be blessed with some Porco headcanons with a female reader whose from Paradise ;;c;; Both fluff angst n smut >~< Thank uu

Porco dating someone from Paradis Island

Porco Galliard Headcanon

Warnings: NSFW Content

ALSO SPOILERS!! IF YOU HAVENT READ THE MANGA!! I REPEAT SPOILERS!!

when you and porco first met, neither of you knew of the others identity

porco had just gotten back from war and you were there to infiltrate marley for information

in fact, you both seemed to be running from who were supposed to be, just wanting a break from your destinies

this caused you both to somehow end up by the ocean one day, just when the sun was setting

you had been sitting close to the shore, the water lapping at your feet when all of a sudden a voice caught your attention

“hey—! wha—! you’re not supposed to be here!”

not expecting for anyone to actually be down there that time of night, you quickly whipped around with alarm in your eyes

“w-whose there?” you ask nervously, terrified that you were gonna get caught and your cover was gonna be blown

after all, levi had specifically forbid you from wandering off

“the tickle monster— who the hell do you think? no citizens are supposed to—”

when porco finally came into the light and he saw you sitting there, eyes wide as your sundress blew in the wind, he was immediately taken aback

not only were you trespassing, but you were also...different

whether it was your skin, your eyes, or just simply the fact that he had never seen you before, porco was astonished

“i-i’m sorry! please don’t tell! i didn’t mean to, i—”

“hey, hey,” immediately his entire demeanor changed. “don’t worry, i’m not gonna tell. how could i rat out a beautiful lady like yourself?”

from that day forwards, you both were gone

you began to see each other again and again and again, at first just by pure coincidence, but then it soon became intentionally

porco would purposely seek out the pretty girl wearing pretty dresses, and you’d sometimes linger in the marketplace to see if he’d be there

it wasn’t long before you two began hanging out

porco asked to accompany to the beach again and since he was a high ranking eldian he was allowed there

of course, he didn’t tell you that

both of you kept your identies a firm secret, but neither of you knew

you just thought that maybe he was a high ranking soldier and he assumed that you were marleyan bc you didn’t wear an armband

you and porco became extremely close and it wasn’t long before a relationship blossomed

porco was horrible at being romantic, but he tried, he really did try for you

he’d bring you flowers, buy you little things of chocolate bc he knew it was your favorite

he’d try to leave you little love letter in the morning and it’d absolutely melt your heart

he’d spoil you and use his status to take you to the finest restaurants in liberio

sometimes when you were out people would recognize porco, but he’d always keep the interactions brief

when it came to porco, you probably didn’t know much about him

he was kinda closed off, and he wanted to seem strong to you so he never shared much

but that was okay— what he did share was enough for you

when it came to you though, he’d want to know all about you

he could stay up for hours listening to you explain your childhood, leaving out the parts where you were really from

he’d love knowing about you and would hold you close, often falling asleep to your stories

really, porco was a gentle yet protective lover

he could be extremely jealous and it translated into the bedroom

sex with him was rough, with porco being the dominant most of the time

he loved to mark you and degrade you, wanting you to scream out who exactly you belonged to

he’d pound you into the mattress and tell you what a good little slut you were and then he’d make you cum all over him

afterwards, he’s not much for aftercare lol but at least he’d hold you?

if he fell for you quickly then he’d probably introduce you to pieck

and she would LOVE you, thinking how it was cute that porco was so mean to everybody else but so soft around his girl

he likes touching you, that’s for sure

always has an arm slung around you

in all honesty, he’d be an amazing boyfriend and uwu but you know it’s not gonna last...

technically, you and porco were doomed from the start

he was lying to you about who he was, liking the fact that you loved him, not the jaw titan, ‘marley hero.’

you were lying to him, not even from marley and an island devil that they seemed to hate

your love came to a boiling point, eventually

when you both found out who the other truly was, both you and porco were shocked— like hella shocked

you were on the battlefield, defending eren when all of a sudden you spotted porco and pieck from up above

you wanted to scream and abandon everything right then and there, to tell them both to get the hell out of there

but then,,, porco looked up and saw you using ODM gear, wearing the same suit as the people attacking marley

his eyes widened, not even believing it as betrayal and anger seeped through his veins

“y/n!”

you’d be so terrified to face him

you’d probably break down crying and explain that you hadn’t meant for it to be this way— you didn’t mean to lie and yes, you truly did love porco

but then,,, you’d be exposed to his own little secret

as marley soliders began shooting at you, yelling at you to get away from the warriors, porco would suddenly scoop you up and transform to shield you from their bullets

everybody, including your comrades, was absolutely dumbfounded to see him throw you on his back and run away with you

and you’d be literally frozen, not even believing this was happening

“what...the...fuck...”

porco kept you safe during the entire battle, up until he decided to take eren on

you couldn’t lie, even though your relationship was probably gonna be in shambles after that it hurt so bad to see him just laying there, not even knowing if he was alive

you tried to find out, you tried to go towards him and yank him out of his titan but jean swooped in and tackled you at the last second

you were a crying mess but he held you, kicking and screaming and all, not letting go until you were safely on the plane

“jean, please! you guys don’t understand — i have to go back! i have to see—!”

“i’m sorry, y/n, but this is for the best. you have to let go, you may never see him again.”

for the next few months, or years that you were separated from porco, you’d be a hollow mess

It’d take some time for you to forgive him, and him you

for the longest he stayed on marley, bitter and cursing your name

cursing himself for falling in love with an island devil

he hated you, he wanted to kill you...only...he didn’t

deep down porco knew that he still loved you

and he carried that love everywhere with him, even if it tore him apart inside

he was stuck between wanting to be in your arms again and wanting to be loyal to marley

after finding out where you were from, he’d have so much rage and so many questions

you were a devil, yes, but...were you?

you were so sweet and compassionate and kind...how could you be?

you were the exact opposite of what porco had been taught

you weren’t a devil...marley had lied

they had lied and filled him with all this hatred for people he didn’t even know

it infuriated him, and it saddened him that he couldn’t be with you all because he was brainwashed

for the time that you were apart, porco was a mess

he hardly looked alive anymore, only thinking about you day and day out

he longed for the day he’d see you again

and when he did—

all hell was breaking loose, AGAIN

marley was declaring war on paradis

there were people everywhere, titans ranging about, eren being...eren

you of course were on the front lies, just trying to survive when you suddenly spotted him

could it be? no...

you didn’t wanna believe it at first

you couldn’t

you only stared at porco’s scrunched up face in shock, not moving despite that being incredibly dangerous

likewise, porco was shocked to see you there, alive and once again fighting for paradis

it felt just like the first time, but this time you both had months to prepare your words

and the first thing you said to each other?

“i’m sorry.”

the words shocked both you and porco even further, but it felt...right

“y/n...i’m so sorry i—”

“please, pock i should be the one to apologize. i lied, i know i did. but i—”

“i lied too. we both did. guess that’s why we were made for each other,” porco chuckled humorously, you nodding in agreement

for a moment, you both just stood there looking at each other

but then, months of tension boiled over and finally you just kissed, in the middle of the battlefield

“uh, guys? that’s romantic and all but FUCKING FOCUS WILL YOU?”

porco promises he’ll find you after the battle

and what do you know, he keeps his promise and after that you guys live happily ever after the manga doesn’t exist

[yandere-dark-cupid]

If you’re requests are open can I get a Yandere Zuko x fem reader where after the war he looks for his darling by making his guards track her down but without anyone knowing bc he doesn’t want ppl to think that he’s back into his old ways again and keeps her in the palace

Ok Angel 💜👌💜. If you want, I could continue this as a mini part to part scenario series if I have the time T.Angel. There is just so many ideas worming around this concept and just think of the crazy things the darling and Zuko is going to go through, while also keeping both of their identities on the veeery low-key. Just let me know Angel 😊☕💜.

Also everyone is going to be aged up to 18+ Btw.

Side note: For the sake of this scenario, the darling will be from the Southern Water tribe. If this Angel decides to let me continue this as a mini scenario series, then the both of us are going to talk about if the darling can be a Waterbender or not.

Warning ⚠!!!: Their is going to be some slight Nsfw in this.

Yandere Zuko: A Dragon's treasure

Five weeks. It has been five weeks since you've went missing. Once the war has ended, Zuko was planning to propose to you. But every since his coronation of being crowned the new FireLord, you just up and vanished. It was like you were never there in the first place. And Zuko has been scattering everywhere in the palace and Fire nation to find you or some type of clue. But nothing. There was nothing there. You really covered your tracks, didn't you?

Right now Zuko was in his thrown room. He was fuming- No steaming with rage. If anyone were to walk in to the room, they'll notice it was boiling in there. He tried to look everywhere in the palace. Even outside the palace. But to no avail. Zuko couldn't find you. You've made it clear that you don't want to be with him or any where near him with this type of stunt you've pulled.

Zuko took a seat on his thrown. His hands was on his head, just about ready to pull his hair out and shout in frustration. But then a knock on the door stop him. " *Frustrated sigh* State your name and your business." Zuko said with spite and a hint of venom in his voice. The person behind the door flinched at his tone of voice. "It's me Sir. The guard you put in charge of the search party for Ms.Y/N". Zuko perked up at the mention of his missing lover's name. " Come in. " said Zuko. With out a second thought, the guard entered the room. She bowed down in respect for her FireLord.

" FireLord Zuko I have an update about Ms.Y/N's whereabouts. " Said the guard. She almost stuttered. The guard noticed how extremely hot it was in the thrown room. It was a clear sign that FireLord Zuko was pissed out of his mind. " Well, " Zuko said in annoyance and anger. Zuko was beyond angry at this point. He was a whole entire cluster fuck of emotions right now. " M-me and m-my crew found some people who could be connected to Ms.Y/N's disappearance , your majesty. " Stuttered the guard in slight fear. Zuko quirked up an eyebrow at what the guard said.

Ah. So the guard managed to find the ones responsible for his darling's vanishment, or at least had some part in it. " Bring them in. " Zuko said. The guard only merely nodded, not wanting to meet the FireLord's intimidating gaze. The guard got off their knees and went to call the other guards, to bring out the people that played some part of the darling going missing. The other guards quickly brought out four other people. Those people was tied up, bounded, and blind folded. The people was visibly quivering in fear. They were very confused and scared on what they did to upset the FireLord.

The four guards forcefully pushed the four people down to the floor. Each guard took off each person's blind fold. In front of the four people, there sat the FireLord in all his glory. FireLord Zuko glared down at the 4 people in a burning gaze. So these disgusting pathetic excuses of human was responsible for his darling going missing. Zuko scoffed at the thought. After a painful intimidating stare down, Zuko finally spoke. " So your the ones held responsible for Y/N's disappearance. " Zuko spat out to them with his voice dipped in poison.

" I-if y-you're talking about a someone that has (h/c), (e/c), and (s/c) then t-they came to m-my store to buy clothes." The woman stuttered in fear. Zuko stayed quite and only listened. " If you're talking about the same person; they came to my food stand and brought some food. " the old man said quickly in fear of what the FireLord would do to him if he took so long to explain himself. Zuko only merely quirks his eyebrow. " Y-yeah, that same person came to my Shop and bought some bags and extra equipment as his they were going on a trip. " The man said while sweating nervously. " The same person came to shack a-and brought some w-weapons. " Said the short lady in fear. Zuko only hmmed at what they said.

" So you're telling me the lady you just described went to all of your stores and shops to buy something. " Zuko said still glaring down the four people. " Y-yes. " the woman squeaked in fear. The old man only nodded quickly. " Mhm. " both the man and woman said. Zuko got up from his thrown and began to walk down to his stand. " What should we do with them you highness? " Said one of the guards. " Bring them to the dungeon. I will decide what to do with them later. " Said Zuko. " I-I don't understand what did we do wrong. " Stuttered the woman in fear and nervousness. Zuko quickly turned to the woman, the woman quickly shuts her mouth. Zuko then begins to slowly walk towards her.

Zuko shot one of his hands out and grasps the woman's face in a painful grip. The woman squeaks in surprise and fear. Zuko just merely just glares down at her. His eyes is filled with a flaming rage. " You all are held responsible for the disappearance of Y/N, " Zuko spat out in anger. Zuko releases his hand from woman's face. Zuko steps away from the woman and is now in front of the four bounded people. " Since you all play a part in my- err Y/N's disappearance, you all will be punished accordingly. " The four people only shook even more at FireLord Zuko's statement. " All of you take them away were they'll never see the light of day again. " Zuko said with venom dripping from his voice.

The four guards only bowed and said a quick " yes sir ". With that they took the four people away. Now Zuko was once again left in his thrown room...... alone.

Zuko let out a sigh of frustration out. He walked towards a window that was in the room. He stared down at his people, he was thinking about something. Based on what the four people said, Zuko can conclude that his darling is no longer in the Fire nation. Zuko dug into his pocket and took out something. It was a necklace. A betrothed necklace to be more specific. You see his darling was not from the fire nation, no no no. You were from a Water tribe, the Southern Water tribe to put it. While Zuko was on his trip to help Aang defeat his father and help him master firebending, Zuko found out from Katara on what her necklace means. He found out that from the Water tribe in order to marry someone, you have to make a betrothed necklace and give it to that special someone. When Zuko found out about this type of information, he instantly got rapped up about it. Ever since he's joined team Avatar he was thinking about what life would be like when he becomes FireLord, then his thoughts were drawn into marriage. He can't help but think, his darling would make the perfect FireLady. His FireLady.

And they'll have children. They'll be lovely children. With his darling swelled up with another one of his heirs all while holding another one of their children. It'll truly be a.. delicious sight to see ~ Zuko hmmed in delight at the thought of his darling bearing his children. But... that's if he witness such a darling sight. Zuko groaned at his mood being dampened and soured. But he knows it's true. Zuko knows if he doesn't act fast, he'll lose his darling. And that lovely little scene that played in his mind, will be nothing but a mere fantasy. Besides, he doesn't want to get himself accidentally sexual frustrated.....

With that aside, Zuko begins to start planning and strategizing. Zuko walks away from the window. He calls a servant, he orders them to get one of his best generals. The servant was slightly hesitant and confused, but never the less terrified. Wasn't the war over? They pushed their question aside, because they know now wouldn't be the best time to question the FireLord. He hasn't been acting himself lately and has been been flaring up at anything these past few weeks. With out much of a second thought, they did as they were told and went to see if someone could get one of the generals FireLord Zuko was talking about.

Zuko on the other hand, went back to sit on his thrown. He knew it will take time for the general to get here, so he decided to sit and be patient for him to get here. All while doing this, Zuko began to plan out in his mind on how he was going to get his darling. He was thinking about getting some of the Fire nation's best spies to help track down his darling. Sending out a whole search team and alerting the public while cause some type of panic. Not only that but he's trying to show that He and the Fire nation has turned over a new leaf, that and he doesn't want people and the other members of team Avatar know he's basically going back to his old ways. Since everybody knows the history on how he went to the ends of the earth to find and Capture the Avatar, and he's basically doing the same for his darling. It'll put a bad name on him and an even worse name on the Fire nation. So he'll lay as low as possible and keep shush shush about it, so he doesn't rise suspicion and ruin all the hard work he's been putting in the past time he's became FireLord.

With all those thoughts in mind, Zuko decides to call the same servant from before. So he can see if his message has been delivered. The Servant said they already sent a messaging hawk out to see if they can reach the general. Zuko only hmmed and dismissed them, and told them to report back to him once the massage has been delivered. With that the servant left, leaving Zuko in his thrown room. Zuko dug into his pocket again. He took out the Betrothed necklace out. He gently creased and rubbed the engraving and creases. He took so many hours and very much effort into making this for his darling. Looking at it always made him feel calmer, it made him happy knowing that his darling will be wearing it soon. But then his darling ran away from him before he can give it to them. Zuko pushed down on the purple garnet at the thought of his darling running away from him ( the rest of the necklace's gems are made up of smaller bits of Rudy and sapphire ). Zuko let out another sigh of frustration. He began to think. Once is darling is back with him he's never letting them go...........

My God, this was a boom ass idea. Not only that, but an idea of Zuko having a bit of a breeding kink has been floating around in my mind for some time now. I had a lot of fun with this. Like I said before T.Angel, If you want me to make a mini scenarios series about this let me know 😆! Well I hope you enjoy it. Until next time my Little Tainted Angels, see you soon ~💜❤💜

[peakywitch]

Fuck Men - John Shelby

“Hello i hope you’re still accepting requests! Can i ask for one with John Shelby. Y/N goes out with her friends and gets roofied (someone put drugs in her drink) and they call john and it’s all messy and full of angst. John comes in with Arthur and Tom and they try to make her vomit it up and he’s crying and fluff at the end. Hope you’re still raking requests I really love your writing! Xx” 

Warnings: drugs intoxication, alcohol, this one is little disgusting sorry

words: 1580

masterlist

I ain't got time for you baby, either you're mine or you're not

Make up your mind sweet baby, right here, right now's all we got

Although The Garrison was one of the best pubs in town, the one run by the Germans, Die Rotte, a few blocks from it was best for having an actual good time. That's where you could find Y/N and her girlfriends every other Friday night. They weren’t exactly women exclusive, but only the best men could get inside.

It was quite a delightful place, to be honest. White walls, art deco everywhere, good alcohol, an amazing band who played the best Charleston in town. The night was one of the best nights. It was a chilly summer night, so dresses were being shown off.

“Y/N, try this!” screamed Lizzie with ecstasy, handing her a glass.

“What is it?” she asked from the table, seeing her friend coming from the bar.

“It’s called Fallen Angel! It tastes like lemon and...just try it!” Lizzie had a beautiful smile on her face, maybe it was snow or the facts that she had gotten a proper job.

A little party never killed nobody, so we gon' dance until we drop

A little party never killed nobody, right here, right now's all we got

“Ok, I’m in. Get me one!” she smiled, after swallowing the exotic greeny drink.

Lizzie started her way once again to the bar and after Y/N held a small conversation with Ada, who was almost as drunk as Lizzie, she came back.

“Here is to us, ladies.” she started to distribute the questionable amount of alcohol between the six women on the table “Fuck being a fuckin’-” she interrupted herself “Fuck men!”

“Fuck men!” the other women chorused, but Y/N could only smile.

She was the only one who got a decent love story. But a decent love story won’t stop anyone from drinking a whole glass in just ten seconds, does it? No, it doesn't.

Time passed by and the night was getting better and better, almost like a movie. The dance floor was filled with sweaty couples dancing non-stop to some loud charleston that rumbled in their hearts, threatening to leave their bodies.

Her legs started to feel weaker, but she knew that was alcohol because it’s the first sign: fragile legs. She knew the others were feeling the same, because they had taken the same amount, or even more.

“I need air!” screamed Y/N, trying to make Ada understand her over the music.

“You need her?” asked her sister in law in return, the music had her going.

“I need…!” she began again, the room started to spin faster and faster, the trumpets were making her head weight and her ears buzz. “John, Ada…”

“Y/N!” voices began to scream her name, but the noise was clouding her mind, and her eyes were not responding anymore, being covered by her heavy eyelids.

But just as she tried to reach out for Ada’s arms, she fell.

“Liz!” screamed Ada, panicking “Lizzie!”

She appeared by her side in a split second, and saw her on the floor, holding her unconscious sister-in-law. 

“Oh Lord, Y/N!” she screamed and knelt by Ada’s side.

She tapped her face abruptly, trying to wake her up.

“She’s not waking up!” they both stated in fear and got her out of the dancefloor screaming to the other dancers.

They sat her on their table, and wet her face with the ice cube that her glass had. While Lizzie was focused on her friend and bathing her neck with the cold water, Ada had her eyes on Y/N’s Glass.

“Ada, another one! Come on, it’s not-” she turned her face and saw Ada’s eyes stuck on her glass “Did…?” she whispered, forgetting about everything.

“There’s something white, Lizzie…” Ada began to tear up, thinking about her friend being harmed.

Lizzie left the bar as rapidly as she could, and ran three blocks down to the Garrison. Her chest was getting cold, and her ankles started to hurt: high heels were not meant for running on a messy street at three am, drunk and scared.

She began to scream John’s name even before she reached the entrance to the Garrison.

“John! Shelby! John! John!” she entered the Garrison, not forgetting to scream Shelby's name. He wasn’t in the big room, he had to be in the booth.

His name burned her throat, she said it so many times she started to forget what to say.

“John!” she burst into the private booth, and everybody stopped laughing.

“Lizzie?” asked John confused, she was supposed to be with Y/N.

He knew something was up, he saw it on her face.

“It’s Y/N!”

He got up as quickly as he could, even faster. Lizzie didn’t have to say another word, for he was running down the street, fearing the worst.

A soft and cold wind was drying his lungs, but it would take more than just wintery weather to prevent him from running towards her. Not even war could stop him from whispering her name in his prayers. If he prayed, it was for her. For her to be safe during the disgusting Spanish flu, for her to be happy during those birthdays he was away, not knowing if his “Happy Birthday” letter would make its way before he took his last breath.

“Y/N!” his voice echoed in the pub, and his throat almost ripped.

“John!” cried Ada, not knowing why her friend wasn’t responding.

And in a few confusing seconds, her body was over John’s shoulder, he was trying to get her out of there.

“Please stay with me, I need you.” he kept on reciting as if he was trying to memorize those exact words. “Please, I need you. Stay with me.”

The walk from the bar all the way to the house in Watery Lane was infernal and everlasting. He couldn't pronounce the words correctly, he was mumbling desperate thoughts, which made no sense on his lips.

Polly, who was spending a cosy night in, opened the door, as an answer to the shouts from her nephews. And as John entered the house in a rush, he placed the girl on the couch, trying to make her wake up.

“What the hell are we even supposed to do!” Ada cried, not knowing why she wasn’t waking up.

“What did she have, Ada?” he asked, taking his blue vest off.

“We don’t know! Her glass had something white at the very bottom, we don’t know what happened, John.” She was about to pull her hair off her head, she was sure it was a nightmare.

“White?” he screamed “She got her drink fucked over and you tell me now?” he was roaring, scaring Ada even more.

“Why don’t you take the girl to the doctor, instead of screaming to your sister?” Polly confronted him “Fighting Ada won’t stop time, it’s making you lose it!”

“John!” his oldest brother entered the house, nervous and curious about what was happening. Tommy was walking right behind Arthur.

“Y/N is under some fucking drug, and I don’t have any idea of what to do…!” he was about to cry, his eyes were stinging.

“What was in her glass?” asked Tommy, taking his jacket off.

“She was drinking a Fallen Angel and there was something white and dusty at the very bottom…” remembered Ada, cleaning her constant tears.

“So it was at the bottom, good to know it didn’t dissolve,” Tommy answered, and walked up to John.

“Brother, listen to me.” he said, taking John’s face in his hands “You take her to the bathroom, and we know you hate puke, but you have to make her vomit.”

He began to instruct quickly on how to help her, and John was suffering by the simple thought of hurting her.

“You won’t hurt her, you just…” Tommy was being careful with his words for the first time in ages, and John was thankful “You just touch everything in there, and it will result. Trust me, she’ll be alright.”

John walked into the bathroom with her, dead weight.

“I’m so sorry, please wake up…”

Some say you float, some say it’s like a dream. Some say you feel everything around you, some say you don’t even realize. But it was fucking disgusting for Y/N, she was dancing a popular Charleston and, when she opened her eyes, she had his husband fingers all the way up to her throat, making a nightmare out of a party.

“What the fuck!” she screamed, feeling how even her soul could leave her body in that same minute.

Both of her hands gripped onto John’s shirt, as she was still not seeing a thing.

“I can’t fucking see!” she screamed, scared to death.

“Don’t worry, Y/N.” said a voice from behind her, she was scared “It will come back to you in a few seconds, don’t worry.”

John hugged her, tightly against his chest.

“John.” she relaxed her body, while susurrating his name.

“Don’t you ever scare me like this again, because next time I might not survive the fear.”

“I’m sorry I scared you, I love you.” she apologized, while her fingers danced in his neck.

“I need you by my side until I die, please don’t leave before me.” he was being truthful, it was never hard for him when she was by his side.

“I’ll try not to, love. I’ll try not to.”

@deepdonutkid @a-golden-sunflower-vol-6 @stydia-4-ever @natural-hearts @lovemissyhoneybee @girlwith-kalei-do-scope-eyes @peakyrogers @writeroutoftime @peakyxtommy @nyotamalfoy @pinkeijin @lukeymybabe @eternallyvenus

[miawin6]

PERCY JACKSON CHARACTERS AS EVERMORE LYRICS

Percy Jackson

And if it was an open-shut case

I never would've known from that look on your face

The more that you say, the less I know

Wherever you stray, I follow

Everybody wants you

Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you

When we were younger, down in the park

Honey, making a lark of the misery

And we live in peace, but if someone comes at us

This time, I'm ready

And when I was shipwrecked, I thought of you

In the cracks of light, I dreamed of you

Annabeth Chase

You know that my train could take you home

Anywhere else is hollow

There is happiness

Past the blood and bruise, past the curses and cries

Beyond the terror in the nightfall

Haunted by the look in my eyes

That would've loved you for a lifetime

Leave it all behind

Tell me, when did your winning smile begin to look like a smirk?

When did all our lessons start to look like weapons pointed at my deepest hurt?

I can't make it go away by making you a villain

All you want from me now is the green light of forgiveness

Never be so kind, you forget to be clever

Never be so clever, you forget to be kind

Piper Mclean

I'm like the water when your ship rolled in that night

Rough on the surface but you cut through like a knife

As if you were a mythical thing

Like you were a trophy or a champion ring

And there was one prize I'd cheat to win

If I can't relate to you anymore

Then who am I related to?

And the skeletons in both our closets

Plotted hard to mess this up

Jason Grace

It's the kind of cold, fogs up windshield glass

But I felt it when I passed you

There's an ache in you put there by the ache in me

But if it's all the same to you

It's the same to me

You can run, but only so far

I escaped it too, remember how you watched me leave

But if it's okay with you, it's okay with me

I won't ask you to wait if you don't ask me to stay

Sorry for not making you my centerfold

Were you waiting at our old spot

In the tree line, by the gold clock?

Did I leave you hanging every single day?

Were you standing in the hallway with a big cake?

Happy birthday

Did I paint your bluest skies the darkest gray?

A universe away

Sometimes walking out is the one thing

That will find you the right thing

Hazel Levesque

Show me the places where the others gave you scars

I sit and watch you and notice everything you do or don't do

You're so much older and wiser and I

I wait by the door like I'm just a kid

Use my best colors for your portrait

Lay the table with the fancy shit

And watch you tolerate it

Will you forgive my soul

When you're too wise to trust me and too old to care?

No more tug of war now, I just know there's more

I rewind the tape but all it does is pause

On the very moment all was lost

If our love died young, I can't bear witness

And it's been so long

Frank Zhang

And in the disbelief, I can't face reinvention

I haven't met the new me yet

Fatefully

I tried to pick my battles 'til the battle picked me

If the shoe fits, walk in it everywhere you go

Never be so polite, you forget your power

Never wield such power, you forget to be polite

I should've asked you questions

I should've asked you how to be

Asked you to write it down for me

All your closets of backlogged dreams

And how you left them all to me

Leo Valdez

"This dorm was once a madhouse"

I made a joke, "Well, it's made for me"

And the heart I know I'm breakin' is my own

To leave the warmest bed I've ever known

We could call it even

Even though I'm leavin'

There'll be happiness after me

But there was happiness because of me

Both of these things I believe

There is happiness

After giving you the best I had

Tell me what to give after that

I can't stop you putting roots in my dreamland

My house of stone, your ivy grows

And now I'm covered in you

I'd live and die for moments that we stole

On begged and borrowed time

And you know in your soul

When it's time to go

Nico di Angelo

I'm begging for you to take my hand

Wreck my plans, that's my man

Life was a willow and it bent right to your wind

They count me out time and time again

Gleaming, twinkling

Eyes like sinking ships on waters

So inviting, I almost jump in

But I don't like a gold rush, gold rush

I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush

I don't like slow motion double vision in rose blush

I don't like that falling feels like flying 'til the bone crush

And then it fades into the gray of my day old tea

'Cause you know it could never be

My mind turns your life into folklore

There'll be happiness after you

But there was happiness because of you

Both of these things can be true

And you passed right by

I was in the alley, surrounded on all sides

Long story short, it was the wrong guy

Now I'm all about you

Actually

I always felt I must look better in the rear view

And he's passing by

Rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky

And he feels like home

Long story short, it was a bad time

Long story short, I survived

And I couldn't be sure

I had a feeling so peculiar

This pain wouldn't be for evermore

When the words of a sister come back in whispers

That prove she was not in fact what she seemed

Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano

You had a speech, you're speechless

Love slipped beyond your reaches

While you were out building other worlds, where was I?

Where's that man who'd throw blankets over my barbed wire?

I made you my temple, my mural, my sky

Now I'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life

But what would you do if I, I

Break free and leave us in ruins

Took this dagger in me and removed it

Gain the weight of you then lose it

Believe me, I could do it

This place is the same as it ever was

But you don't like it that way

It's never too late

To come back to my side

Yes, I got your letter

Yes, I'm doing better

I know that it's over

I don't need your closure

I know I'm just a wrinkle in your new life

Staying friends would iron it out so nice

Guilty, guilty reaching out across the sea

That you put between you and me

Right where you left me

You left me no, you left me no

You left me no choice but to stay here forever

[lihikainanea]

Haaaaaay Lei! You got any fun places/things to do to suggest for my euro trip in Stockholm, Gothenburg, Hamburg, Berlin, Warsaw, and Krakow? 🤗

I SURE DO BABES. Note that I'm seriously like, a wanderer. Museums are great and I love my fair amount of tourist stuff, but there's nothing I love more than just....wandering a city. Feeling its soul.

I'm actually going to be in Krakow again this year. Have you ever been to Poland? Listen, I feel like I should warn you--do not ask for sour cream with your pierogies. They will act as if you've committed a felony.

Warsaw is okay but it's very small and there's not too much to do, much of the city was destroyed in World War II. Krakow is incredible though, the old city is just so fucking pretty and everybody there is so proud of their city--they genuinely want you to have a good time, they're incredibly hospitable. Krakow is a great walking city, everything is really close and it's all quite safe. You can easily cover most of it by foot. If you have the stomach for it, there are some incredible WWII museums and memorials but I found it very, very tough. It's a lot to stomach for an empath.

The food is phenomenal, but everything is pretty heavily rooted in pork, cabbage and potatoes--so hopefully you eat those. I could literally eat pierogies (and Eastern European food in general) until I FUCKING EXPLODE so I was in heaven, and Słowiańska Uczta Pierogarnia was a favourite when I was there. It's a bit outside of Old Town/the touristy area, so it's quite authentic. In general people have a good grasp of English so I didn't have any trouble communicating, but I will say--if, by the time you go, PCR/COVID testing is still a thing in order for you to come home, do some research ahead of time. COVID seemingly didn't exist when I went, and all clinic/hospital sites were uniquely in Polish so I needed some help coordinating testing so I could go to my next site.

BERLIN. Oh how I love Berlin. Again, if you're a history buff--the city is rife with it. I have a weird love of German food and Schleusenkrug beer garden was the best, with a great view by the river. Again, if you can stomach it, the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe is just very, very humbling and heartbreaking but probably something that everyone should see, same for the Topography of Terror. Berlin is also a great waking city though, so you can easily wander and see all kinds of incredible things.

NOW TO SVEEEEEEDEN.

Listen. listen. God I could talk forever about Sweden. I'm glad you're getting to Gothenburg, it's so often missed but it truly is beautiful and, in my opinion, has some of the best scenery in Sweden. Food is incredibly expensive so try and get a place where breakfast is included (and oh, how I miss the breakfast spreads in Scandinavia). There's an amusement park there--I forget what it's called--and it's alright, if that's your thing. Personally I love to just wander Haga and grab pika and some snacks a little bit everywhere. Sanguine Bistro was a fave there--god I could sit there all afternoon and just people watch.

Stockholm--dreamy sigh. I always stay in Söder because most of my friends live there, so my foodie recommendations tend to be there and like--Listen, for brunch, you can't beat Nytorget 6 or Cafe Pom & Flora--but also, do feel free to just grab a cardamom bun and a coffee at Urban Deli. Nytorget 6 is also a great place for a little pre-dinner drink. Babylon Cafe for lunch or dinner or a night cap (I literally spend like, every night here. I just love it). Pelikan restaurant or Meatballs for the People are great bets for dinner. Shopping wise, you ABSOLUTELY MUST visit Granit on Götgatan, it's legit where I get all my plates and bowls and kitchen things. Gamla Stan is a great area to wander in, but it's ridiculously touristy and expensive so I tend to just grab a coffee and walk through on my way to Stockholm.

I love Vau de Ville on Norrmamlstorg to grab a drink and then wander all of Norrmalm, where you'll find fucking dangerous department stores like NK but then also Eataly.

Coffee/snackies wise, you can't go wrong with Cafe Pascal in Stockholm or Eriksdalshallen in Söder. If you want some stuff to bring back to your hotel, I find the best grocery store is the Coop (instead of the ICA). For sightseeing, make sure you catch a sunset from Monteliusvägen--it is unparalleled. if you’re going in a nice season, a hike through Tyresta is a must. An absolute must. It’s fairly easy to get to via public transit.

Also, this is going to sound weird, but in Sweden--drink the tap water. IT TASTES AMAZING AND IT IS VERY COLD. The tap water where I live isn't potable so this is a novel concept to me, and in general Canada has been putting fluoride and shit in our water for years so it always tastes a little funny. Sweden's tap water tastes like heaven.

[cyrusbugged]

The Happiest of Birthdays

In which the ninja do something special for Sensei Garmadon’s birthday

A/N: thank you to the anon who requested the headcanons for this concept, i thought it would be really cute to turn into a story! enjoy :)

————————————

It was a quiet, peaceful morning in Ninjago. Golden rays of sunlight shone across the far outskirts of the city, where a certain ex-lord of darkness was fast asleep. It happened to be this certain ex-lord of darkness’s birthday, and his son was planning something special.

“Do you have the tray?” Lloyd asked, pulling a party hat on his head.

“Yes,” Zane replied. “We better get there soon, before this cools off.”

Lloyd thought it would be a good idea to surprise his father for the special occasion. He managed to convince his friends to get up earlier than usual to help surprise him. Zane agreed to cook pancakes, eggs, and some bacon for Garmadon.

Carefully making their way through the dew covered grass, the six ninja snuck into Garmadon’s monastery. Lloyd led them to his dad’s bedroom. He carefully and quietly opened the door.

“Jay, don’t drop the tray!” Cole hissed.

“I won’t drop the tray!” Jay shot back.

“Wait guys, are we wearing the party hats?” Kai asked, carrying his in his hand.

“Shoot, I forgot the noise makers!” Jay whisper-shouted.

“You’re a noise maker,” Nya responded.

“Guys, shhh!” Lloyd hissed.

“You know, for ninja who are supposed to be sneaky, you’re awfully loud,” a deep voice rang out.

The ninja froze, and they looked over at a now awake Garmadon, who had began to sit up in bed. Misako, laying next to him, slowly woke up too, rubbing her eyes.

“Is there any particular reason as to why you’re sneaking into my bedroom this early in the morning?” Garmadon asked, running a hand through his hair, which was messy from sleeping.

The ninja all looked at each other, then Lloyd nodded. They all turned to Garmadon, and shouted out a “Happy Birthday!”.

Garmadon’s annoyed frown turned into a smile, and he laughed. “Oh, so that’s why?”

“Well, I wanted to do something special,” Lloyd said with a shrug. “It’s been awhile since you’ve been able to actually celebrate your birthday, father.”

“You have been a great deal of help around here as well,” Zane said, walking over and placing the tray of breakfast food on Garmadon’s lap. “It’s the least we could do.”

Lloyd went over, sloppily placing a party hat on his dad’s head.

“Yeah! How old are you now, anyway, Sensei G? One thousand and one?” Jay quipped.

Garmadon laughed, shaking his head. “That is actually the number of times you have to volunteer during my lessons now, Jay.”

Jay’s eyes widened. “Wait- what-!”

Misako sat up, putting her glasses on. “I guess that is today. Well, happy birthday, honey.” She pressed a kiss to Garmadon’s lips, and Lloyd fake-gagged.

“Ew! Groooossss!” Lloyd looked away, and Garmadon laughed.

“Okay, okay. Well, thank you very much for this little surprise. I really do appreciate it,” he said, ruffling Lloyd’s hair.

The ninja left, and Garmadon ate his birthday breakfast he was given. This was... sweet. The last time he actually celebrated his birthday was the same year he got banished to the underworld.

A few hours later, Garmadon had a class with his younger students. It may be his birthday, but that doesn’t mean he has the day off.

He entered his dojo, the chatter coming from his students dying down.

“Good afternoon, everybody. Today’s lesson will be an easier one, focusing more on defense against a person you are fighting,” he announced. “Now, when we defend ourselves-“

“Um, Sensei Garmadon?” One of his younger students piped up.

“Yes, Matthias?” Garmadon responded.

The boy, Matthias, wringed his hands together. “Well... we just wanted to say... uh, now guys!”

And with that, a chorus of a very off-key version of ‘Happy Birthday’ echoed through the dojo. Garmadon couldn’t fight the smile that formed on his face.

“Well that was very lovely,” Garmadon said when they finished, and let out a small chuckle. “Thank you very much. Now, pick a partner, and I will explain what activity we will be doing today.”

The sun was beginning to set, and Garmadon had just waved goodbye to his students. He sighed, leaning against the wall. He really isn’t as young as he used to be.

“Happy Birthday, brother,” Wu’s voice suddenly came from the side of Garmadon, causing him to jump.

“Oh, thank you, brother,” Garmadon said, letting out a breath. “However, you did not have to sneak up on me like that.”

“I apologize,” Wu replied. “But I came here to ask if you would like to join the ninja and I for dinner in the bounty.”

“I’d love to,” Garmadon replied with a smile. “Thank you.”

Wu led his brother to the bounty, going inside to the bridge.

The entire place had been decorated for a party. There were streamers dangling from the ceiling, a banner that said “Happy Birthday Garmadon!” hung across the wall, balloons on the floor, confetti sprinkled across a table with a table cloth, and there was a cake.

The cake said “Happy ???th Birthday!” in purple writing, and the rest of the cake was covered with white icing. There was a little drawing of Garmadon in the middle under the writing.

“This is... oh my,” Garmadon said, looking in awe at the whole scene. “Thank you, really. I appreciate this. But you didn’t have to go all out like this for me.”

“Like I said, I wanted to do something special,” Lloyd said, wearing a party hat.

Jay blew on the noise-maker he had, then grinned at Garmadon. “You like it?”

“I do,” Garmadon said with a smile.

“Alright! Let’s light the candles and sing!” Cole exclaimed.

“You just wanna eat the cake, don’t you?” Nya asked with a smirk.

“...I’m not saying yes but I’m also not saying no,” Cole replied.

Kai used his fire to light the candles, and Zane dimmed the lights in the bridge from his own mainframe. Garmadon sat at the end of the table, and Wu stood behind him.

After everybody sang, Garmadon blew out his candles. Suddenly, though, his face was shoved into the cake.

“Oh, I’m sorry brother,” Wu said, a sly smirk forming on his lips. “I must have tripped.”

In an instant, the ninja burst into laughter. Garmadon huffed, wiping his face off with his hand.

“What’s so funny, Kai?” Garmadon asked, then wiped his now icing-covered hand across Kai’s cheek.

“Agh!” Kai shouted, wiping at his face.

Cole sighed. “So much for cake...”

“Oh, don’t worry Cole!” Jay said, scooping up a chunk of cake in his hand. “You can still have some!”

The second Jay smeared the cake over Cole’s face, a war broke out. Cake and icing was being thrown everywhere, and by the end of it, there was more cake on everyone’s face than in their stomach.

And even though Garmadon spent some extra time in the shower trying to get the icing out of his hair, he was happy. Happy to have his family back, and happy to have his life back to somewhat normal.

[sopxhiea]

Lush

Alfie Solomons X Reader

Summary: The infamous wild girl spends a night with Alfie and he soon seems to forget about her, or it seems until they run into each other in a familiar setting and this time, she’s the one pulling at his ropes.

Part 1

“Bite me..” “Where?”

The inside of the gallery is empty.

Other than the canvases laying around, splashes of paint on different surfaces and the many used rugs on the floor, there’s nothing else. There’s a hum that goes around, the quiet tone of a voice that fills the empty space. It’s a song from a movie, the one that Annabelle played for the younger girls in the school.

It’s hard to tell what time it is, the sun is not so cheerful these days. The sleeves of the dress you have on are covered with paint but you’re not the one to care. Most of the clothes you own have splashes of paint on them anyway. There’s the smell of oil paint but it’s familiar, there’s comfort in it.

You recall the bloke who gave you this place.

Some of the lads were so rich that they didn’t mind giving away a small  property for the pretty lady who was willing to kiss them. In many occasions, you had been that lady. That was as far as you had taken with that particular lad, he still thought you’d open your legs for him but you just kept him waiting, on his toes like most men liked to be even though they wouldn’t admit it.

The etiquette classes start in an hour, you realise once you have fully grasped what time it is. It takes half an hour to get to the boarding school, a little more to prepare yourself for the scoldings you are going to have to listen to for showing up in a paint covered dress. There’s the meeting after that, the generous donors are invited to the house for an event. 

It’s to show appreciation, Annabelle says, but you know the school’s just trying to snag more money from the rich. It’s like that night where they’d paired up girls with people twice their age to show their ‘good manners’ when it just meant that they needed them to be out of their hair for the new youngings. The men were mostly in their thirties, rich and known around the area, although they were all unattractive and inappropriate.

Yours hadn’t been though.

Alfie was his name, you recalled. He had blue eyes that were curious at times but he mostly reminded you of a calm ocean that could sweep you at any given moment. He’d taken you to his house that night, being a saviour of sorts and save you from the wrath of the head lady. 

He had turned out to be nothing like you’d expected. His house was fairly large, and you’d seen your fair share of lavish houses. The furniture was mostly made of wood, the calm image of the interior suited him and it was easy to pinpoint that he, for a sole fact, lived on his own. He’d told you his maid had gone home but you could help yourself to anything you’d wanted and he had stared at you the whole time you played with his dog.

He wasn’t rude but intense. He’d asked you questions through the night, some of them were answered whereas for some, you just clicked your tongue. You had played a game of question for a question and he’d done the same, answering only a handful of what you’d asked. 

But both of you had heard things on the street.

The chatter never stopped and especially not when it came to people that stood out, which was Alfie and you. You’d heard of the jewish gangster, too scary to even have a proper look at his face, they said. He’d killed many before, you knew that for a fact from the way he had looked at you when you’d asked if he’d killed over a dozen people. People didn’t talk to him, they just got out of his way and prayed that he didn’t pick on them. He had a temper, it was easy to tell from the way his calm side would disappear but he had been nothing but kind to you.

He’d also heard things about you. It was impossible not to, you thought, especially when you were someone like Alfie. You were the infamous girl every cockney banged on about, it was the way you moved or your million dollar smile he’d heard about but he hadn’t believed in any of it. He was proven wrong when he’d seen you, you were much younger than he’d thought but had a side to you that he’d only seen in reckless men during the war, the kind of people who’d go out knowing they wouldn’t see the end of it.

You didn’t think much of the way his eyes would soften when they landed on you.

Daydreams were not your thing, trouble was and you were known for it. You knew that Alfie was a cruel man in a harsh line of business and that night was the one time your paths had crossed and it would remain that way. Even though you couldn’t deny the fact that he sparked your curiosity.

A thrilling one he was, Alfie.

You had met your share of men, as most of the city knew, who were all dull and rather boring. Alfie seemed calculated, cold and distant at first and he was all those things but it was easy to see the layers he had, he needed time to peel back all of them to reveal a truer version of himself and that was a challenge you were willingly up to.

Although you doubted he’d come around again.

It had been a lucky day for you when he’d showed and saved you from hours of endless posh talk but that happened rarely, you knew. You had no problem with the life you had now: parties, sneaking out and making trouble. As far as you could tell, the lads liked it and that’s all you needed to get out of the boarding school with the excuse of having a date.

You’d had a lot of them until now but no one stuck. You were young, that was no deniable but the night was younger. Your reputation preceded you anyway, there was no reason to hide that and especially not when you’d turned out to be the opposite of everything the ladies in the school expected from you. It was fun, to say the least.

After making it to the school and hearing an earful from Annabelle about just how unlike a lady you were, you went up to change for the event. The classes had begun anyway and you didn’t want to attend. The mirror in your room soon showed the reflection of someone you knew, you liked her.

The blush colored dress had been deep in your closet somewhere with the delicates, it reached just under your knees with the silk material. The weather was cold for a slip dress, or so you figured so a beige cardigan was thrown over the dress and your hair was left unruly, the way it was after a shower. You didn’t bother scrubbing your hands hard enough in the shower to get the paint off, it looked better this way.

And so you made your way downstairs and saw that some of the most generous donors had already made their way into the large salon near the entrance. There were pastries and little treats everywhere, no drink other than red wine was served and you realised, almost all of the people who’d showed up were men. They liked to look at pretty young things, you knew, so they had given away more money than they could realised and you were sure some of the older girls would marry these rich men, it was regular occurrence. 

Just when you were about to enter the salon and say hi to couple of these said gentlemen, you felt a harsh tug on your arm as Annabelle made you face her older face.

“Y/N, my dear..” she spoke in a soft tone. My dear? She never called you that. You squinted your eyes and didn’t say anything but she kept on talking anyway. “There’s a guest coming in a few minutes...He requested your company through the evening.” she said, the tone of her voice unfamiliar to you. Was it jealousy Annabelle was feeling?

“You’ll behave, won’t you?” she asked, but she already knew the answer. It was no. You nodded regardless before she spoke again but didn’t realise a big car, bigger than the ones the other gentlemen came in pulled up right in front of the school and a cane stepped out. 

“Use your words, dear?” she said one last time while not letting go of your arm. She was behaving suspiciously but you chose to ignore it, it wasn’t your problem.

“Yes, Madam.” you half-whispered but before she could scold you furthermore, you heard a familiar voice. The one that had been hanging at the back of your mind since he’d left.

“’ere’s the lass I came to see.” he spoke, your eyes widening before you gained your composure again. It would take a lot for him to impress you, he knew that.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Solomons.” Annabelle spoke and you shot him a knowing smirk. He was putting on a plan like he did when your teachers were around but in private, it was you who played the devil.

“Yeah, it ‘s. Why the fuck is everybody inside, then?” he asked and you chuckled, not low enough so it made Annabelle turn to you and then to the broad gentlemen who was currently drinking your figure in a dainty slip dress.

“Well, the weather’s not been the upmos-”

Annabelle started speaking but Alfie just took a few steps towards you and she immediately stopped. His hand was tugging at his beard, your amused orbs met his and you eyed the hat afterwards.

All along, Alfie ignored the way Annabelle’s eyes widened. He had no manners, she concluded but it’s what made him better than the rest. He had no time for bullshit and you came to realise that once more as he stood right in front of you, hand around his cane while the other brushed through his beard. You had to look up to meet his eyes as he was twice your size but you were fairly short and he was larger than the average person.

“‘ello, lass.” he said, a hint of a smirk on his plump lips hidden between layers of scruff. You tore your eyes away from the dreamy pink clouds and met his orbs with a smile.

“Nice hat.” you said, a giggle at the end of the sentence. You didn’t want to do the proper greeting and all that, you knew he was here to see you so why waste time?

You saw Annabelle go crazy at your words, since you hadn’t said ‘good afternoon, mister’ with a fucking curtsy like she’d taught you on numerous occasions. You’d just smiled sheepishly and made a remark about his hat. Alfie realised it soon after your eyes drifted away to the old lady and he decided to remedy the cause for the rest of the evening.

“Her, yeah, she’ll be with me for the rest of the fuckin’ evenin’. That a problem?” he spoke, turning to Annabelle while your eyes caught his rings again. You had traced his tattoo the last time you’d seen him but you wanted to feel the golden  rings against your skin. 

She nodded, almost frantically and you chuckled with an unimpressed face. She was nothing but screams at you but when a rich guy told her something, it was like she has lost all power and became an obedient servant of sorts. You caught the flickers of jealousy mixed with worry in her orbs when he looked at you again.

He was dangerous, you knew that for a fact as most of London did, too. He wasn’t so easy to the eye, which was why he lit something up in you. He looked strong, enough to crush a man’s windpipe with one hand but that didn’t worry you, he didn’t seem like the type to hurt a woman.

“Shall we?” you spoke in the sweetest you could muster. He didn’t know where you’d be taking him but he shot the curly haired bloke,Ollie, a look and he disappeared in a matter of seconds as Annabelle also took the hint.

He offered his arm to you and you smiled wickedly, taking it still. The truth above it all was that Alfie had come back for more. He didn’t just pursue women. They were beautiful to look at but most of them were too scared of his reputation, which was mostly made up of things that were true, to come talk to him. He had his share of women around brothels but that was it.

His line of work didn’t permit it anyway, he’d be putting someone innocent in danger if she were to become his in a public manner. Most women until now had been a bit too hesitant, not voicing their opinions on matters but just agreeing with what he would say but you didn’t do that. 

He knew you had a reputation as the girl who’d steal the air from your lungs and it was true, he had been proven of the fact the first time he’d met you. You danced in a way that made Miriam close her eyes and Alfie gulp, your smile was far too innocent in a way that made Alfie think that he was now dancing with the devil.

You were much younger, too but that didn’t bother him that much.

You took him up the stairs and he felt like he was in a brothel again until you made your way into the semi-large tea room. There were wooden shelves and paintings around and a tray. This was where you’d come to read and where Annabelle would have guests of high importance. The decoration was much more simple, he noted as he sat down on one of the wooden chairs.

“Tea?” you asked and he nodded. His eyes got stuck on your hips as you swayed them while walking towards he tray. 

He was looking at the devil herself now.

Alfie didn’t shy away from danger, everyone knew that but you were a different kind of danger. You could very well ruin Alfie, without even getting in his bed and he knew it, maybe that was why he wanted to find out just what you would do with a man of his wrath. 

You noted the way his eyes roamed around your body, stayed on your hips for a while and then focused on your hands that were still slightly covered in paint. You handed him his cup and he nodded as your hands brushed against his in an obvious manner.

“Yer hands..” he spoke, the first word to come out of his mouth since he came into the room and you settled on the chair, leg crossed in a manner Annabelle had labelled as ‘unladylike’.

You didn’t break eye contact while speaking, you knew the state of your hands. “I was painting.” you spoke in a soft manner and Alfie hated it, he hated the affect you had on him and how he’d been trying to get rid of the stiffness between his legs for the past two weeks since he’d seen you dance the way you had.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Solomons?” you asked in a sweet tone that made his attention snap back from his manly troubles to your shining orbs. A gangster of his reputation didn’t just come around for a cup of tea, or so you guessed.

“Ya’ know who I am, lass?” he asked, the feeling of deja vu washing over you when you recalled the first encounter you had with him where he’d asked the same exact question. You still didn’t have a clue.

“Not really. Some said that you were a cruel gangster but that’s not too hard to believe.” you speak, eyeing the way his eyes look at yours with some kind of feeling in them but it’s hard to read the man.

“Why’s that?” he asked again, hands moving around the air towards you but you had no intentions of answering.

“You always ask this many questions?” you spat back but he was quick to battle it out.

“You always this fuckin’ feisty?” his voice was tailored with amusement behind it.

You smiled then, a genuine one and he felt the need to memorise the lines of your face but soon reminded himself of the man he was and the young little thing you were.

Alfie has called beforehand to make sure that you’d be in, that you wouldn’t be in a class or whatever it was that they made you do here, he wasn’t quite sure. He knew a couple men in his business who ended up getting married to girls from this school, they were proper and posh, raised the way a high society lady would be but he ceased to see any of that in you. And he wasn’t keen on seeing you in another gangster’s arm so he figured he should act quick.

“Ain’t ya’ supposed to be in a fuckin’ class?” he asked, not touching the cup you’d given him but drinking you instead. He thought it was the better option out of the two.

You appeared annoyed for a second, your pretty features seemingly tense and Alfie lost his breath but was quick to gather himself. You were truly as beautiful as they’d said. “You were the one who asked for me in the first place so I should be the one asking the questions.” you spat out, not daring to break eye-contact as he tugged at his beard.

“Ask away, luv.” he said, a smirk on his lips as he spoke. He was toying with you, in a way that made you feel all bothered which only happened when you felt like you didn’t have the upper hand. You always had the upper hand.

“What do you want?” you asked, in an innocent voice which threw Alfie off. You were fighting his wrath with fire, the kind of thing Alfie wasn’t accustomed to.

He didn’t speak.

He wasn’t sure, if he were to tell the truth. He felt drawn to you, not like a moth to a flame but it felt as though you had gone through the same thing he had. You had lost something, he could tell but he didn’t know what it was and the exterior you had built yourself to cover that: the filthy dance moves, the beautiful smile and the trouble that always seemed to follow you, intrigued him. It made him wanna observe you.

And he wasn’t even going to mention how he had envisioned you in inappropriate scenarios, that was for him to know at the moment.

You spoke, cutting through the silence with a deep knife as you used your words to entice him further, even though he was already fucked. “You want a fuck, a kiss, a dance or just to talk?”

He didn’t like the words you said, they didn’t fit your pretty little mouth but it just aroused him more. You didn’t seem like the obedient type, although he didn’t need to come all the way to the school to know that, he could’ve just asked around the pubs and they’d tell him all about the wild girl who went home with a different lad every night, most of them left bruised now.

And he had done that.

They’d told him about that one time where you’d broken a man’s nose just because he had tried to touch you inappropriately, you could dance naked and it still didn’t give them the permission to be near you. They’d told him about your uncle, your deceased parents and how your uncle was getting married to a young thing soon, about five years older than you and how it had made you drink more lately and dance less, although you did both equally well.

But he wanted to hear them from you.

“None of that.” he said, one sentence and done with the conversation. You held his gaze, trying to read him but it was not so hard to realise that Alfie was nothing like the ordinary men.

You were tired, he wasn’t telling you what he wanted either. You sighed, wanting use vulgar words but you didn’t like it when he almost winced when you did it earlier. You weren’t a dainty lady but you’d put up with it for the sake of trying to get him to talk.

“Bite me...” you whispered, under your breath on purpose so that he wouldn’t hear it but he had and you hated the little glisten of amusement that appeared on his blue orbs.

“Where?” he asked, not missing a beat and you shot him a smirk. He wasn’t a regular one you were dealing with. Men usually wanted a fuck, open your legs or a nice dance, something to satisfy them. You wouldn’t give them the first option. Unlike what many of the inhabitants of London believed, you were still an amateur in the bedroom but you knew damn well to kiss and dance enough to keep them on your toes. 

That’s what made it exciting.

“Are you going to take me to your house then?” you asked, nicer this time. You desperately wanted to be in the big place again, play with cyril and maybe even have a look at that library he had told you about but didn’t let you go in.

“Ya’ wanna come to my fuckin’ house?” he asked, clearly taken back but you just smiled.

“Well, seeing as you’re not here for a quick fuck or a chat, I don’t see why not.” you giggled at the end and spoke again before he could, you needed to speak or else the man was looking at you like his last meal before his death. “And I’d like to see Cyril again.”

If Alfie was honest, he’d like that too. It had been a while since there had been a woman in the house, let alone one that came just for cyril. He had his housekeeper but that was about it, he didn’t see a good reason why not but he was busy. Alfie was always busy.

“How ‘bout I pick ya’ up, hm?” he spoke and didn’t wait for an answer. “Seein’ as I’m fuckin’ busy now, yeah, I can have ya’ picked up tonight.” he spoke and you waited for a moment.

They were all excuses.

You wouldn’t go to his house for the second time just to play with cyril, you wanted to play with him and push Alfie’s buttons. He seemed calm as you assessed the offer. No one usually said no to Alfie, including the ladies he’d offered to have around.

Much to his surprise and dismay, you shook your head. A low smile resided on your lips as you spoke to him. He was in trouble, deep trouble.

“You told Annabelle that I’d be accompanying you for the rest of the evening..” you spoke and he gulped, women were far too dangerous. “..How bout I do that?”

It could go many ways. 

He saw the visions of you bent over his desk or maybe his bed, he hadn’t decided yet as you’d chant his name over and over again until he knew you wouldn’t be able to move properly the next morning but you were not predictable, he didn’t even know what he’d do if he took you to the bakery.

But he wanted to see, desperately.

And you were out ten minutes later, out to his said bakery and a world filled with the kind of danger you weren’t quite familiar with.

------

Tagging: @clairecrive  @parkbearum @sourirez  @vetseras​ @mollybegger-blog @babylooneytoonz @peakascum

a/n: I read all of the sweet comments on the first part and thank you!!! I’m so happy that you guys liked it and this will be a multi-chapter series so i’ll keep them coming! Lemme know what you thought of the chapter <3

[bellafarallones2]

From the meet uglies prompt list:

84. I’m not entirely sure who you are but we’ve been in a massive prank war ever since your first prank on your friend went awry and I was covered in paint

For JakeHollis, please? Sfw or nsfw! This screams them to me!

JakeHollis, SFW, very light angst, some absolutely weird vibes! QueerElfClub's Hollis cosplay is my headcanon for them always and forever

All told, Jake’s first day at Kepler High hadn’t been too bad. Barclay and Dani had told him roughly what to expect, including a rapid rundown of the Earth history he’d be looked at strangely for not knowing. So far, math was his favorite class, because it was the same as on Silvain. Mama had gotten him into something called AP BC Calculus, which seemed like far too many acronyms for a class about shapes. His next most favorite class was PE.

Now it was almost three, and the final bell had rung. Packing up his backpack had taken so much time that the hallways were mostly empty, and he wandered idly, looking for the exit. Barclay was supposed to be picking him up somewhere called the “kiss and ride,” though Jake had been assured kissing was not mandatory. No signs pointed the way, and Jake knew better than to ask someone for directions. Teenagers were the same everywhere.

He found himself in a wing of the school none of his classes had been in, passing rooms labeled ORCHESTRA and BAND and COLOR GUARD EQUIPMENT STORAGE. The sound of music came through the walls.

Finally, though - miracle of miracles! - he saw the light of day, and hurried towards the door it was coming from. The door was even cracked open, and Jake pushed it open the rest of the way and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

Something hit his head.

Something that made a klang noise against his skull, and he thought for a moment his head had cracked - he didn’t know how fragile these disguises were - but no, there was something else dripping through his hair and down his face and down all over his new colorful jacket. He looked down. It was white and foul-smelling, and when he blinked his eyelashes clumped and stuck together.

Jake was fairly certain neither Dani nor Barclay had mentioned this. He could barely see, just the edges of a person saying oh fuck, I’m so sorry, I thought you were Keith, and tugging him back into the school, which was not at all where he wanted to go.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” the voice said, and Jake found himself in a restroom, without even the time to make sure it was the correct one - he needed to be in one called BOYS or MEN, or the one with a little outline of a person without a skirt. or GENTLEMEN. (Barclay knew a long list of things he’d seen printed on bathroom doors.)

But here he was, and he bent to the sink to wash his face and came up dripping. Then he repeated the introduction he’d given so many times already today.

“I’m Jake,” he said. “Dani’s brother.” (People knew Dani; she’d graduated only two years earlier. He told teachers he was Barclay’s brother. Barclay was a little older, but a better student than Dani had been.)

“Oh,” said the person. “I think I had an art class with her. I’m Hollis.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Hollis had curly black hair and brown skin, and the sleeves of their shirt were tattered like they’d been cut off and not hemmed afterwards. When they rubbed at the stuff on Jake’s sleeve with a wet paper towel he could see the fine line of muscle beneath the skin in their arm.

Jake took a deep breath. “Do you think you could point me towards the kiss and ride?”

By the time Jake climbed into Barclay’s truck, he was as clean as one could get with hand soap and paper towels.

“How was your first day?” said Barclay, tactfully not saying anything about the paint.

“Fine. I’m really glad you and Dani told me so much about what to expect. But when I was trying to find my way out at the end of the day a bucket of paint fell on my head.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Someone helped me clean up, though. Their name’s Hollis. I think we’re friends now?”

“Well, that’s nice.”

“One girl in my homeroom brought in brownies to share with everybody because it was her birthday. Are you allowed to do that even if it’s not your birthday?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“Can I bring in cupcakes tomorrow? The ones you make are really good and I think people would like me if I gave them some.”

Barclay looked over at him, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll make you some cupcakes.”

--

The cupcakes were gorgeous. Each was as the platonic ideal of what a cupcake should be, the cupcake held before the fire to cast a shadow in Plato’s confectionary cave. The cake part was delicate and moist and yellow, and the frosting was pink, dusted with rainbow sprinkles.

“Oh,” said Jake’s homeroom teacher when she saw him come in carrying the lovingly packed tray. Barclay had put crumpled saran wrap between each cupcake so they wouldn’t knock into each other. “Is it your birthday, Jake?”

“Nope! But I brought cupcakes for everyone.”

“Alright,” said the teacher. “You can start passing them out now, if you’d like.”

Jake held out the tray to each person in the first few rows in turn, receiving varyingly sincere ‘thank you’s in return. But sitting in the back corner by the window was Hollis, and when Jake got to them, he didn’t hold out the tray. No, he selected the most perfect cupcake there was, cupped its soft bottom, and shoved the perfect pink frosting into Hollis’ perfect face.

“Oops,” Jake said sweetly.

“Jake!” said the teacher. “What do you think you’re doing!?”

But Hollis was already laughing, wiping pink frosting off their face and licking it off their fingers. “It’s fine, Ms. B., we’re in a prank war.”

“Well, please refrain from waging it in my classroom!”

“I’m sorry,” said Jake. He’d never heard the phrase prank war before, but the word war he didn’t like at all. War was the slowly narrowing boundaries of habitable land, war was an enemy that was somehow both inuman and implacably angry.

The boy sitting to Hollis’ left was looking up at Jake with something like shock and anger in his face. Looking away, Jake held out the plate of cupcakes to him so he could select his own.

--

Jake still had trouble finding the cafeteria, and so most of the students were seated when he arrived. He was scanning looking for a seat where he wouldn’t be intruding on someone else’s friend group when Hollis’ waving hand caught his attention. “Yo, Jake! Come sit with us?”

Jake hurried over. Before he reached the table Hollis elbowed the boy who was sitting next to them, the same one who’d been next to them in homeroom, and he scooted hurriedly over into the next seat so Jake could sit next to Hollis.

“Hello,” Jake said, nodding at each person at the table.

“This is Jake,” said Hollis. “He got me good in homeroom with a cupcake to the face.”

The others at the table laughed.

“Jake, this is Keith, Madison, and Ty,” Hollis continued, indicating the boy who’d been displaced, a girl with purple streaks in her long brown hair, and a boy with a mullet.

“Nice to meet you,” said Jake. He listened to them talk as he unpacked the lunch Barclay had packed him. A sandwich on part of a baguette, a chocolate-chip cookie, a honeycrisp apple (Jake had just been on earth long enough to have opinions about the different varieties of apples), and a note reminding him that Barclay loved him and wanted him to have a good day.

His tablemates were discussing what they were going to do over the weekend. Ty suggested going to Walmart, which was shot down on the grounds that they’d done that last weekend. No one’s parents were out of town, which eliminated the possibility of a house party.

“There’s nothing to do,” Madison whined.

“Can you drive places?” Jake asked.

Everyone went quiet. “Yep,” said Hollis. “When Madison’s parents let her use the car.”

It was Jake’s first autumn on earth, and from his bedroom window on the second floor of Amnesty Lodge he could see the leaves changing colors, red and orange and yellow between the bristles of the evergreens. “You could drive around and look at leaves. I’d like to come along, if that’s alright.”

Everyone was silent, deciding whether that was the lamest thing they’d ever heard or so lame it went straight through the other side into being kind of a good idea again.

“Fuck it,” said Hollis finally. “Let’s do it. And of course you’re invited, Jake, let me add you to the group chat.”

--

That Saturday, a silver Honda pulled up in front of Amnesty Lodge. Madison was at the wheel, Ty in the front passenger seat, and Keith sulking in the back. Behind it was a sleek motorcycle, and the rider’s helmet reflected the autumn leaves above.

Hollis pulled off their helmet. Their hair was disheveled and gorgeous. “If it was five of us in the car someone would have had to sit in the middle back, and that sucks,” they said. “Hop on, Jake.” They were holding out a second helmet.

“Um,” said Jake, offering them a bottle of sparkling cider with gold foil around the neck. “I brought something for us to drink?” The agreement had been that they would drive to one of the pull-off spots along the highway and have drinks there.

“Sweet,” said Hollis. “Put it in the back of the car?”

When Jake opened the back door of the car he saw a case of white claw on the seat next to Keith. “Was I supposed to bring alcohol?” Jake said. “I could have.” There was wine at the lodge; sometimes on the weekends Mama and Barclay went wine-tasting together, because Dani’s ID said she wasn’t old enough.

“No, Jake, you’re fine,” Hollis said. “Climb on.”

Jake fit the helmet over his head and climbed onto the smooth leather seat of the motorcycle behind Hollis. “Hold on tight,” said Hollis.

The motorcycle roared to life like one of Silvain’s larger beasts. Then it leaped forward, swerving hard to veer around Madison’s parents’ car. Jake swallowed a shriek and held on tighter. He could no longer feel the soft fabric of Hollis’s shirt, only the beast beneath them and the wind tearing at their jackets and the red, orange, and yellow leaves racing by above.

By the time they reached the appointed meeting place the others weren’t even in sight.

“So,” said Hollis when they pulled their helmet off. “What brings you to Kepler?”

Jake knew how to lie, when presented with questions like this. But with Hollis they found they didn’t want to. “I got kicked out of my old school.”

Hollis’s eyebrows went up.

“For… stealing.” Stealing food, because his family’s traditional hunting grounds had been corrupted by the Quell, and everyone else had barely enough for themselves. The huge mounds of apples in the grocery store in Kepler were the first thing to convince him he’d been exiled to paradise.

“Damn, Jake. And here I thought you were so wholesome.”

Jake threw up a hang-ten. “Nah, I’m a real bad boy.”

“Are you… with anyone? From your old school?”

“Nope. Are you?”

“Nah.” Hollis took a deep breath. It was the first time Jake had noticed them breathing. Human beings had to breathe so frequently, he’d found, and he sometimes forgot to until his lungs reminded him. His old body had been able to hold its breath for over an hour, collapsing his lungs so he was sleekness against the water inside and out. Incompressible.

“Wanna make out?” said Hollis.

“Yeah,” said Jake.

Hollis leaned in and kissed him. The best part was how warm their lips were, how warm their face was, right up close to his. No, scratch that. The best part was how they smelled, a smell Jake hadn’t encountered on earth up to that point but knew now he could never get enough of. No, the best part was -

Tires on gravel. Jake startled, but Hollis didn’t stop kissing him, even as Madison honked the horn on her parents’ car.

To Jake, that was the most surprising thing, that Hollis would want to kiss him in front of their friends. Teenagers were the same everywhere.