#please continue on with your milin ways

[secretly-larry-daley]

I will gladly enjoy your treats, sir!! Thank you for being so kind to my friends. They’re chaotic but I love them very much.

You’re official my favorite new dad on the internet

-Percy (admin)

Hello mr Percy!

I thank you :0

I will try to bring treats for everyone once in a while

[avengerscompound]

Her New Home

Her New Home:  A Lady Sif Fanfic

Buy me a ☕

Character Pairing:  Sif x F!Reader Square: @ladiesofmarvelbingo​ - N3, Lady Sif

Word Count:  1892

Rating: E

Warnings:  Smut (F|F, light d/s, vaginal fingering, strap-on use, squirting)

Synopsis:  Sif has lost a lot over the past five years.  Her friends.  Her homeworld.  Half the galaxy.  But she has you and when she and her crew finally track down Midgard, you both decide to celebrate.

Her New Home

Sif tilted her head up, listening carefully.  The past few years had been… hard.  To say the least.  She had gone off-world to deal with the uprising and Thor’s fears of Ragnarok happening.  When she’d called Heimdal to open the bridge, nothing had happened.  After a few days, she gave up trying.

She had been stuck on Svartalfheim for a week before catching a ride with an unregistered transportation ship she’d bribed with the promise of Asgardian riches if they took her home.

I hadn’t been a hard sell. The pirate was greedy and she was clearly in the armor of Asgard.

When the ship arrived at the coordinates where Asgard should have been, all that was left was rubble floating in empty space.

The captain had not been happy about it.  Just when Sif had thought she was going to have to take command of the ship by force or be ejected into the emptiness of space he had turned to dust in front of her.  As had the ships pilot, gunman, main technician and three of the other people who were paying their passage through space.

What remained of the ship’s crew and passengers were the navigation specialist - an Ataraxian named Lexatora, the ship’s cook, a Badoon - known as Ala, and three passengers, two Luphamoids, Xoda and Miline.  And finally, there was you, a Midgardian who had inexplicably ended up lightyears from home.

With no one to pilot the ship or make repairs, they’d had to limp it to the closest planet, which had taken them eight months.  There they had discovered the issue of people randomly turning to dust had been universal.  Half the lifeforms had vanished suddenly.  Rumor was that the source of the problem had been on Planet C-53.  The planet she knew as Midgard.

Thankfully, using the promise of the ship as payment they’d picked up a small crew to get them moving again.  The galaxy was in chaos and Sif didn’t know her place in it anymore.  With no home, no king to serve, no cause to fight for, no family, no friends, all she had was the people on the ship.

So they had become family.  No more so than you. Five years of being trapped in close quarters as you hopped from planet to planet moving displaced people around had given the two of you time to well and truly fall in love with each other.  To become inseparable.  Sif had never really understood how Thor could fall in love with someone who would only really be around for a small portion of his life, yet here she was completely smitten with you.

“I know you’re there, lover,” she teased as the floor creaked in the far corner.

“Aw, man.  Sif!”  You whined, before breaking down into giggles.

You came over to her, swinging your hips.  That was the thing she had been attracted to the most.  The way you could continue keeping this playful air about you, despite being stuck on a junker ship for five years longer than you were meant to.  Even when the galaxy seemed to be falling apart around you, you managed to make her feel like things were okay.

“How do you do that?”  You asked, taking a seat in her lap.

“Thousands of years of training, my lady.”  She said putting her hand on her thigh and squeezing it gently.

“Hey, it’s good you’re here,”  Lexatora said, bringing up a holographic map over the transparent shield in front of them.  “See that star way off there?”  The map circled a star ahead of the ship and seemed to highlight it.

“Yeah.  What’s that?”  You asked.

“That, my dear.  Is the sun that warms Terra.”  She replied.

Your eyes lit up in a way Sif had yet to see in you before.  Like a fire had been lit inside you.  “That’s where Earth is?”

“It is.  I know we’ve gotten off track a bit since we picked you up.  But you will be back home in a few days.”  Lexatora said.

“We’re not going to do a jump?”  You asked.

Lexatora shook her head.  “No.  There’s been some weird activity in the region with the jumps.  I’m a lot more cautious these days.  You know, with what happened to Asgard and then … the dust.”

“Yeah, right.  I get it.”  You said, shifting a little in Sif’s lap.  “I wonder what’s going on.  When I got taken, we hardly had any space stuff happen.  There was Thor of course.  Then that hole in the sky in New York.”

“There had been more visits, my love,”  Sif said.  “You just didn’t know about them.  But you’re right.  It is strange there is a lot of activity now.  Best we be cautious.”

“Don’t you want to fight it?”  You asked.

She gave your thigh a rub.  “And I will when we arrive.  But if we go through some active jump site and turn to dust, I can’t fight anything.”

“What if everyone I knew is gone?”  You asked.  There was a slight strain in the pitch of your voice.  Like you were trying to remain the bright light in the dark world that you always were but it was causing you pain to do it.  Sif wrapped her arm around your waist and rubbed her cheek on your shoulder.

“Then you still have me.”  She said.

You took a deep breath and let it out slowly, lying back on Sif.

“I’m not going to lie to you, they might be.  The whole universe is different.  I lost everyone.  I can’t promise you didn’t.”   She said, gently.  “But as someone who has lost everyone, trust me when I say, it’s better to know.  And maybe they are all still there.  You can go home.”

“Would you stay with me?”  You asked.

Sif sighed and kissed your shoulder.  “Can I tell you something, my lady?”

You nodded and put your hands on hers, linking your fingers together at your waist.

“I know this is perhaps just hopeful thinking, but I am hoping that whatever it is that led to Asgards destruction, was something Thor escaped.  The two of us were going off-world at the same time, following the same leads.  He had a love of Midgard, I think you know.  If he is alive, your homeworld is where he is.  If not, there are others I know there.  But you are my home.  Perhaps we have a large group of family and friends waiting for us.  If not we have each other.  That is more than many these days.”

You smiled sadly at her and leaned in and kissed her deeply.  She wrapped you tightly in her arms and pulled you flush against her.  The love for you she felt flaring up inside her.

Lexatora cleared her throat.  “If you don’t mind.”  She said.  “Take that to your bunkhouse.”

You pulled back, giggling and Sif brushed her fingers over your cheek.  “What do you say, lover?  Shall we go and celebrate seeing our home?”

“Mmm… yes please.”  You hummed.

You climbed off her lap and took her hand pulling her to her feet.  Sif followed along as you dragged her down into the belly of the ship, past the small mess hall where there was already the smell of cooking emanating and into the bunk room you and Sif had claimed.

Sif turned you to face her as the doors hissed shut behind you both and cupping your jaw, she kissed you hungrily.  She guided you back into the room and up against the large window that separated you from the vacuum of space.  An arm of the milky way spread out in front of you both as she pressed you against the glass and slipped her thigh between yours.

She ground on your leg.  The rough fabric of your pants rubbing against the heat of her cunt, sending a buzz through her and making her moan into the kiss.  As she did you ground on her thigh too.

The two of you broke the kiss long enough for her to pull your shirt off and she spun you to face the window and slipped her hand into your pants.

“I am going to so such things to you, lover.” Sif purred in your ear as she teased her fingers over your clit.  Dipping her fingertip inside you and using your own fluids to paint the small bundle of nerves.  “I'll have you screaming my name.”

You braced your hands on the cold glass and leaned back against her, grinding your ass into her.  “Gladly, Sif.”

She ran her finger in tight circles over your clit and kissed the side of your neck, paying attention to the way your pulse sped up and your breathing shallowed.  Slowly she pulled her hands away, trailing them over the bare skin of your waist before giving your ass a gentle spank and stepping back.  “Remove your clothes and stand with your hands against the glass.”

You started to strip and she did the same as she went the drawer the two of you kept your toys in.  She selected one she had purchased in the Iota quadrant when they had been reuniting some people they’d picked up with their only remaining family after the dusting.  It was one that would provide you both with pleasure at the same time and would be perfect for what she was planning.

She lubricated it as she approached you again.  You stood obediently, palms pressed against the glass.  She moved up behind you and lifted a leg pressing it against the glass beside you.  You took a deep breath and held it as she pushed the toy into herself.  When it was in place, the end pressed against her g-spot and one of the small ridged protuberances was resting on her clit, she grabbed your thigh and lifted you, spreading your legs out wide as she thrust her hips up and the toy sunk into you.

“Fuck!”  You cried out loudly bracing yourself against the glass as the toy penetrated you.

Sif smiled against your skin and began to fuck you as she held you helpless in front of her.  Each thrust of her hips pushed the toy in deep into both of you.  It pressed against her g-spot again and again.  It must be doing the same to you because the sounds you made got louder and louder and more out of control.  Grunts and whimpers and loud cries of pleasure came from you and your arousal dripped down the toy and mixed with Sif’s.

Your hands slipped on the glass and your head fell back as you completely lost control.  Sif picked up her pace, thrusting hard and deep into you.  Your whole body seized up and you cried out gushing onto the window.

Sif moaned and jerked into you, her own orgasm hitting her like a wave.  She slipped the toy out of you and let you down to your feet.  “There you are, my lady,” she said, taking the toy out as she supported you.  “Was that a sufficient celebration?”

You let her support her weight and kissed her neck as you looked out at the stars.  “I don’t know, Sif.  For finding our home?  I think we could go again.”

[shadow-wasser]

WIP Fic Whenever - Atla Zombie AU

WIP Fic Friday is a place where I will put a ‘quick and dirty’ first draft of either a short story or a chapter from a longer story. This will hopefully encourage me to improve my writing output

Warning: blood and gore and disturbing things.

Chapter 4: One Long Night

The Freedom Fighters walked through the streets of the Lower Ring, searching for a healer. Jet walked ahead, while Smellerbee and Longshot walked side by side behind him. Jet wasn’t looking at them.

“I think there’s a healer not too far from here,” said Smellerbee, touching her face gingerly. The makeshift bandages had bled through, and her fingers came away sticky. Longshot offered her a piece of his tunic.

“Thanks, but you need it, too…”

“What was wrong with them?” wondered Jet. “They weren’t just sick. I don’t believe it.”

Smellerbee looked at the back of Jet’s head. “I dunno. They attacked some lady. It… looked like they were eating her.” She shuddered. “Some story, though, right?” she continued, talking to no one in particular. “To go with the scar, I mean…” She touched her face again and felt nauseous, remembering the sound of teeth ripping flesh. The Freedom Fighter shuddered again, this time more violently. “I hope there’s not more of them… do you think there’s a plague? What if we have to leave?”

“Not gonna happen,” said Jet, looking out into the darkness. He reached up to adjust his chewing straw, then remembered that he’d lost it in the fight with Li. “We’ll get this sorted out.”

Smellerbee just looked at Jet, and bit her tongue. He was her leader, and she would stick with him. She just wished she could believe him the way she used to.

“…So,” said Jet, after a few minutes. “Where did you say this healer was?”

“Pretty close,” replied Smellerbee. “We’re almost… ngh.”

She stopped, and leaned against a lamppost, holding her head in her hands.

“You okay?” asked Jet, turning.

“I’m fine,” said Smellerbee. “Just a little dizzy. I’m okay, it’s fine.” She shook her head vigorously. “Let’s just go.”

Longshot nodded sympathetically, and tried to take her shoulder, but she shrugged him off.

The healer’s house was a small building tucked between a grocer’s and a blacksmith’s. The door was ajar, but the windows were dark.

Smellerbee and Longshot exchanged a glance, and Jet walked up to the door. “Hello?” he called into the opening. “Are you open?”

Opening it further, Jet stepped inside, followed by Longshot and Smellerbee. Immediately, the Freedom Fighters were hit by a wave of stench, like they had walked into an abattoir full of rotting meat.

Jet grimaced, and Longshot looked nauseous. “Uhhhhggg!” gagged Smellerbee. “What died in here?”

She was answered by an irregular chorus of deep, guttural moans. Jet took a step back, putting his hands on the hilts of his swords. The three companions peered into the darkness, but save for a bit of moonlight coming in through the window and the open door, they couldn’t see a thing.

Jet could make out a wall-mounted lantern by the door, but the flame had gone out. He reached into his pocket and took out the spark-rocks he had stolen from Li, and lit the wick.

“Jet!” yelped Smellerbee. The room was full of people, tied by their arms and legs to bed frames, chairs, and planks of wood. In the dim, flickering light, their eyes reflected like the eyes of bearded cats. They were moaning wordlessly, staring at the Freedom Fighters, and jerked in their bonds.

“Great Spirits…” whispered Jet.

“Air,” gasped Smellerbee. “I need air.”

She quickly stumbled out of the clinic, and Jet could hear her retching outside. “Go,” he said to Longshot. “Make sure she’s alright.”

Longshot glanced at Jet, then left, looking grateful to get out of the stench.

Jet walked up to one of the bound people, a thin man with a goatee. It had been difficult to take in details, during the earlier fight, but he could still recognize the pallid skin and the empty, staring gaze.

“What happened to you?” he asked, and the man only moaned.

“Can you speak?” Jet leaned in and frowned, wishing again that he still had his chewing straw. “If you can understand me, blink twice.”

The man didn’t blink at all.

Jet straightened. He didn’t know what was going on here, but it made his skin crawl. And only partially due to the smell.

But just as he turned to leave, Jet heard a raspy voice.

“I can’t take you.”

Jet turned. A middle-aged woman lay curled in a corner, surrounded by bed frames that formed a kind of barricade. She was looking at Jet with a gaze that seemed more alert than those of the room’s other occupants.

“No, no, I can’t take you,” she said again, cringing as Jet approached. “We’re full. Please, don’t… no more patients tonight.”

“What happened here?” asked Jet, standing just outside the barricade. “What happened to these people?”

The woman covered her face with an arm. “I tried everything. They kept getting worse. I had to tie them up, but then I ran out of rope. No rope, don’t you see? I can’t help you. I can’t help anyone.”

Jet frowned. “These people were your patients?”

The woman rocked back and forth. “Where did I keep my gingko? For headaches. Milin had a headache, she needs gingko. They all need gingko.” She let out a pained groan.

“I… don’t know. Look, lady, is there anything I can do?”

“They need help. I can’t, I can’t…” The woman trailed off into mumbling.

“You shouldn‘t stay here,” said Jet, but the woman seemed to have fallen unconscious. He considered trying to drag her out, but remembered Longshot and Smellerbee. I can’t take care of this woman, too. She’s not my problem.

Jet left the dim room, followed out by the sound of empty moaning.

Outside, Longshot and Smellerbee sat with their backs to the clinic wall. “You okay, Smellerbee?” asked Jet.

“’m fine,” said Smellerbee. “I’ve had worse. I’m just really tired. You guys worry too much.” She crossed her arms and sat up straighter, but the back of her head brushed the wall, and she winced.

Longshot, of course, didn’t say anything, but he, too, looked exhausted, and when he got to his feet, he had to lean against the wall for support.

Smellerbee seemed to be having more difficulty getting up, so Jet helped her, despite her protests. Once up, she touched his arm. “C���mon. Let’s go back to the apartment.”

The walk back was made mostly in silence, though Jet couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. He kept glancing around into every dark alley and alcove, half-expecting to see eyes gleaming like moons, or to hear someone moaning.

Longshot was walking slowly, looking at the ground as he went. Jet could tell the archer wasn’t feeling well, and he considered going to look for a different healer, but he wasn’t sure his companions would even be able to walk that far. What they needed was rest. He could go find another healer in the morning.

They were within sight of their apartment building, when Smellerbee abruptly stumbled and collapsed. Longshot tried to catch her, but his reflexes were slow.

“Hey!” snapped Jet, quashing the note of panic in his voice. “Keep it together!”

Longshot glared at Jet, and the older boy shut his mouth. The archer tried to help Smellerbee up with one arm, but wasn’t able to until Jet stepped in as well.

“I’m fine,” Smellerbee said. “I’m fine. I’m just a little dizzy.” But her legs were shaking badly, and Jet needed to help her the last few steps to the apartment. Getting up the stairs was even harder, and Longshot seemed to be having some difficulty as well.

Finally, they reached their apartment door. Jet opened it, and Smellerbee stumbled in gratefully, followed closely by Longshot. It wasn’t much of an apartment, more the size of a closet, but it was good enough. Most of the floor space was taken up by three mattresses.

Smellerbee flopped onto her futon, and Longshot sat down on his, his good arm wrapped around his stomach. He looked ill.

“Yeah, Longshot” said Smellerbee, her voice muffled in the blankets. “Me, too.”

Jet sat down on his futon and sighed, taking off his boots and unslinging his swords. “You guys’ll be fine,” he said. “If you still feel bad tomorrow, I’ll find another healer.”

Longshot took off his hat and bow, and lay down in his bed to go to sleep. Smellerbee shook her shoes off and pulled the blankets over her head.

Jet sat for a while in the darkness, turning the evening’s events over and over in his head. The fight with Li, the sick people, the healer barricaded in the back of her clinic. The smell, the moaning. Smellerbee falling to the pavement, and the way Longshot had looked at him with hostile eyes.

Eventually, he lay down to sleep, but he heard Smellerbee’s voice.

“Jet?”

Jet didn’t say anything, hoping she would go back to sleep, but Smellerbee spoke again. “Jet… are you going to go fight that guy again? Li?”

Jet let out a long breath through his nose. “I’m still going to do whatever it takes to expose him and his uncle. I can’t help it if it means we’ll fight again. Just get some rest.”

Smellerbee didn’t say anything for a minute, and Jet closed his eyes to sleep. Then, “And if they’re not firebenders?”

“Don’t worry about it,” muttered Jet, wishing she would just go to sleep.

“Jet, I just… I’m worried about you. We both are.”

Jet turned in his bed so that his back faced Smellerbee, and didn’t say anything.

Smellerbee groaned. “Fine. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

Jet fell asleep. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he felt a hand firmly grab his arm.

“Hhhuuuh?” Jet jerked awake and tried unsuccessfully to tug his arm away. “Wh- what?”

Smellerbee was sprawled out on the floor, reaching up and clutching Jet’s forearm. Her bandages had come off, revealing the mostly-clotted mess in front of her left ear. Her eyes were wild.

“Smellerbee? What-”

“They’re here!” she gasped. “The soldiers! I heard their boots on the dry leaves!”

“What are you talking about?” asked Jet. “Which soldiers?”

“I heard them from the trees, and the people screaming. It’s horrible!”

“Smellerbee, there’s no soldiers.” Jet tried to tug his arm away, this time managing to get it free.

Smellerbee let out a loud moan as she lost her grip. “No! Don’t go! I need you!”

“Do you feel worse?” Jet stood up and lit an oil lamp. Smellerbee, he could see, was flushed and sweating.

“Jet,” she said, her voice wavering. “Help me.”

Jet glanced over at Longshot. He had woken at Smellerbee’s cries, but seemed to be having a hard time sitting upright. Instead, he slumped against the wall, supported by his one good arm. He didn’t look good.

“What do you need?” asked Jet.

Smellerbee groaned. “The mines. I need to dig.” She began clawing at the wooden floor, like an animal.

“Smellerbee, stop!” Jet’s eyes were wide, anxious. He didn’t know where any other healers were.

But the Freedom Fighter’s clawing only became more frantic. “No, no, no. Got to dig. The foreman’s coming.”

Jet grabbed her hands, and held them up. Her nails were starting to bleed, but she cried out at being restrained, writhing like a snake.

“Smellerbee! Smellerbee! It’s me!”

Longshot started dragging himself over, pulling his weight by one arm. “Longshot-” Jet started to say, and then Smellerbee went limp.

Jet looked at her, and she looked up at him, meeting his gaze. “Jet, what’s happening?” she whispered.

“I have no idea,” said Jet honestly. “I’m waiting for you to tell me!”

Smellerbee made a choking noise that might have been a laugh. “I dunno. I feel awful.”

Jet let go of her hands, and she tried to push herself up, but her feet weren’t cooperating. Eventually, her shoulders slumped, and she settled with just sitting upright. “…Could someone close the window? It’s cold in here.”

Jet glanced around at the walls. “Smellerbee, we have no windows…”

Longshot made it over, and put his hand on Smellerbee’s shoulder. She looked over.

“H-hey,” she whispered, a smile twitching at the edge of her lips. “When did you get here?”

Jet knelt down by them. “What’s wrong with you guys?”

Smellerbee swayed slightly. “I’m a little sick. I’m okay, though. I can still dig tomorrow. I won’t get you in trouble. I promise….”

“You’re babbling like that lady,” said Jet, his brows knit together in confusion.

Longshot closed his eyes. Even holding his arm up seemed to be draining him of energy.

Jet let out a breath, and stood up. “Okay. I’m going to find someone to help us.”

“No!” shrieked Smellerbee. “Don’t go! The foreman’s coming!” She began trembling all over.

“I don’t know how to help you!” cried Jet, and this time his panic was obvious. “You’re raving!”

Smellerbee’s head dropped back onto Jet’s futon. She was gasping for air, like she was drowning.

“No… Jet… help…”

Her eyes were darting, searching for something that wasn’t there. Longshot scooted himself over to her side, and took her hand in his own.

Her breath rattled, her eyes glazed over. She muttered something incomprehensible.

“Smellerbee?” whispered Jet. He felt like his heart had stopped. He didn’t know what to do. Longshot put a hand to her face. It was cold.

Then she shuddered, and even in the dim lantern light, they could see the color drain out of her face, and the light fade from her eyes.

“I’m getting help,” said Jet. He felt like something had grabbed his chest and was squeezing. “You stay here. I’m getting help.”

Then, Smellerbee lifted her head. She turned and looked at Jet, but her eyes were flat and unfocused. She opened her mouth, and groaned wordlessly.

“Smellerbee? Just hold tight. I’ll get help.” Jet took a step towards the door.

Then Smellerbee stood up, pulling her hand out of Longshot’s grip. She wasn’t shaking, wasn’t swaying. She stepped towards Jet, and reached her arm for him. But she wasn’t moving right. Her movements were jerky, uncoordinated. She moaned, a raw, inhuman noise.

Jet backed up to the door, staring at her with a pit in his stomach. “Smellerbee? Smellerbee. Are you okay? Snap out of it!”

Smellerbee took another step forward.

“I’m going for help.” Jet opened the door, and closed it behind him. Then he remembered that he had left his swords in the apartment.

Meanwhile, Longshot slowly dragged himself towards Smellerbee, who was at the door. Slowly, she turned and looked at the archer. She moaned, and staggered over to him.

Longshot craned his head up to look at her from his spot on the floor. She reached down, and grabbed him by his hair, pulling him up so they were face to face. Longshot grunted at the painful position.

Then Jet opened the door, and dashed in to grab his hooks, pushing past Smellerbee and Longshot as he did so. When he turned back, he could see how Smellerbee was grabbing Longshot, and shouted; “Hey! What are you doing? Put him down!”

Longshot was looking directly into Smellerbee’s face, horrified. There was no emotion or life in her eyes. No compassion, no recognition, not even anger or hostility. There was nothing there of Smellerbee.

Then Smellerbee leaned forward, and, with a sickeningly wet crunch, bit off Longshot’s nose.

Longshot screamed.

Jet immediately ran over and tried to yank Smellerbee off. Dropping Longshot, she turned on Jet, snapping her bloodied teeth. He flinched backward, then turned and looked at Longshot.

The archer lay on his back, trying to staunch his bleeding with his sleeve. Then, between gasps, he spoke; “Jet. Run.” He made a gargling sound, then spat out a mouthful of blood. “Get out of here.”

Smellerbee reached out for Jet. Her leader looked stunned, but before she could grab him, he ran out the door and shut it.

Jet put his back to the door, heart pounding. What can I do? Shout for help? Run? Run AND shout for help? He remembered what happened to the other sick people he had fought earlier. The Dai Li had taken them away. He swallowed, and tried to think.

Through the door, he heard Longshot scream again.

Opening the door instinctively, he saw Smellerbee crouched over Longshot’s prone form, blocking Jet’s view of the archer. But he could hear Longshot gasping in agony.

Smellerbee turned and looked at Jet, her eyes blank and reflecting the light like mirrors. Blood was smeared across her face.

Jet felt his insides turn to ice. He shut the door, and put his back to it again. There was no sound at all coming from within the room.

A moment later, the door shook as something heavy slammed into it from the other side. Jet jumped back, startled.

The door shook again, and a banging sound came from the other side. Jet began to back away as the door began to crack from the force of the blows.

But Jet didn’t run. He’d made up his mind.  Even when the door bowed outward and he saw Smellerbee’s arm come through. Even when the hinges finally gave way, and Smellerbee shambled out, blood on her hands and face.

Even when Longshot followed, his eyes flat, still missing his nose and with a ragged hole torn into his stomach.

Jet curled his hands into fists to stop them from shaking. Spirits, he could see into Longshot! How could he even be walking?

The Freedom Fighter swallowed, and he walked backward, slowly, careful to keep pace with Longshot’s and Smellerbee’s lurching gait. “Come on,” he said. “Chase me.”

He walked down the stairs, and out onto the street, followed by the other two. He looked around, but no one seemed to be awake at such a late hour. None of the lights were on.

Then, stone hands shot out at Smellerbee, knocking her over and dragging her to the ground. Another set shot at Longshot, and did the same. Neither of them even tried to dodge.

Jet stood still for a moment, then ran over to his companions. But the two Dai Li, slipping down off the rooftops like shadows, got there first.

“Keep away from them,” said one agent, stepping between Jet and the others.

“They’re my friends!” shouted Jet, his stress boiling over. “They’re my friends and they’re hurt! Let me see them!”

The agent didn’t move. “Did they bite you?”

“No, why?” asked Jet. “Does that make the sickness spread?” He hated guessing, and wanted confirmation.

The Dai Li was impassive. “If you see any more people who show these symptoms, keep your distance and report it to the nearest authority. Do not allow them to bite you.”

Jet peered around the first agent, and saw a second one sealing Longshot and Smellerbee into stone. “Are they going to get better?” asked Jet. “Where are you taking them?”

“We are researching a cure as quickly as possible,” said the Dai Li agent. “Remain calm. All is safe in Ba Sing Se.”

The second Dai Li levitated Longshot and Smellerbee in their stone cocoons, and opened a tunnel in the ground.

“Where are they going?” demanded Jet. “Tell me!”

“They are being taken to quarantine. As soon as they are well, they will be returned to their homes.” The Dai Li agent walked over to the tunnel.

Jet followed him. “Quarantine? Where is that?”

The Dai Li dropped down into the earth.

“Hey!” shouted Jet. “I’m not leaving them alone! HEY!”

But the Dai Li had already sealed the tunnel, leaving Jet to kick at the cobblestones until his feet hurt.

After he had raged himself into silence, Jet dropped to his knees, breathing hard. He clenched his fists, staring at the ground beneath his feet. He thought of going back to the apartment, but decided he would rather sleep on the street.

[saadlondon-blog]

Harrods Research Project Essay

The aim of the research project was to push us to involve ourselves in aspects of London life and become experts in our chosen projects. After having explored a number of issues that I thought would be interesting, I decided that Harrods would be an institution that would teach me a lot. Not only about life in London, but also about the economy, history, royal family and the attitudes of people living and working in London; whether they be UK citizens or not. Through this project, I learned a lot about the store itself and the impact it's had on London, the United Kingdom, and even the world.

Among the most notable things that I learned is the fact that Harrods's impact goes as far as it's almost 200 years of existence. What was once a small grocery business, expanded to become the largest retail store in Europe. With such growth came many ups and downs whether they be the store burning to the ground in 1883, or winning a bet against Selfridges in 1917 on who would make the most profit. Nevertheless, the most notable parts of Harrods's story go far beyond it 6 floors, three hundred and thirty departments and thirty-two restaurants.

While learning that they once procured a baby elephant as a gift to Ronald Reagan was interesting and that they once hired a cobra to protect a pair of diamond and ruby shoes was also the type of exciting stuff that people like to talk about. An in-depth look at Harrods reveal its far-reaching impact and place as an institution of London.

To start with Harrods was fairly involved in World War 2, where the store went from selling luxury goods to completely transforming as a producer of Lancaster bombers and military uniforms. Moreover, as a British landmark in its own right, Harrods has also been the sight of two IRA bombings, one in 1983 and the other in 1993. Thus, from the very start, it was clear to me that there was much more to Harrods than its superficial reputation as a store that sells expensive things.

Not that having an average of 100,000 customers walk through your door per day or 300,000 during Christmas is some minuscule feet, but throughout my research, I found that there was much more to talk about. For example, the "Harrods Effect" which is a term conjured up in real estate to describe the changes that happened to the Knightsbridge area due to the presence of Harrods. Where the difference between the price per square foot of a building that is a 5-minute walk away from Harrods and a building that is 20 minutes away can vary by a margin of 561 pounds per square foot. Therefore, it's clear that the presence of this building alone created considerable wealth for individuals who own property in the areas surrounding Harrods.

When conducting my research, it did not surprise me that celebrities and public figures, such as soccer player David Beckham and First Lady Asma Al-Asad were seen as regular customers and visited Harrods frequently to shop and eat. However, what did surprise me was the fact that in the store's efforts to create unique and exciting departments, they became responsible for the inspiration behind a global children's character Winnie the Pooh. Apparently, the author A.A Miline was inspired to create the character after buying a teddy bear from Harrods for his son Christopher Robin.

Moreover, Harrods being Europe's largest retail store has often been looked at as an example of how changes and trends in the economy will impact Britain's consumerism.  Where after Brexit multiple reports showed how the weakening of the British pound has helped increase consumption from overseas, where stores like Harrods experienced an increase in sales of 23.3% and an increase in profits of 38.8%. Thus, the more I researched the more I learned about how Harrods has had a considerable influence in a number of areas.

One aspect I was very excited to look into was the store's connection to the royal family. From the very start, I could see a clear line being drawn between royalty and luxury and as such it was not surprising to me at all that Harrods has had a detailed and heavily documented history with the Royal family. Beyond the fact that it held coveted Royal Warrants and banned the Duke of Edinburgh from ever entering. The relationship between the royals was built on the actions of Harrods's owner at the time Mr. Al Fayed, whose son was in a relationship with Princess Diana and was also killed with her in the 1997 car crash still remembered to this day. Mr. Al-Fayed claims that his son and the princess were engaged and that she was pregnant with his child and that is why the royal family ordered her death. He refused to believe that the deadly car crash was an accident and as such; he had memorials created in his store to commemorate them. Among these memorials, one showing Diana's alleged engagement ring and the other a stature with the engraving innocent victims plastered along the bottom. Thus, it is clear to see that Harrods's legacy will forever be tightly intertwined with the death of the famous Princess Diana and the fact that the memorials in the store are considered to be tourist attractions on their own speaks to Harrods position in Britain.

Beyond what I learned from watching documentaries and reading articles and reports, I was able to better grasp Harrods relationship to London by going there with people from the class as well as people who I met through my community involvement and giving them walking tours. These tours were never of the entire store as that would take a really long time, but focused more on what each group wanted to see. The most popular places we would visit were the Toyland, bookstore and Memorabilia area otherwise known as the Millionaire Gallery. I loved seeing how people would react to everything from the buildings illuminated exterior that's made up of twelve thousand light bulbs to the first edition copy of books, signed albums and huge stuffed animals for sale. It was easy to see why the store is considered a tourist attraction as everyone I took had to take out their phones to take pictures of the outrageous things they would find inside the store as well as the incredible interior and exterior architecture. Moreover, the Knightsbridge subway stop itself had signs leading to Harrods which is a testament to the stores’ prevalence in itself.

My portfolio also includes interviews with Harrods employees who gave me insight that I wouldn't have been able to find online or through my readings. What I learned was that Harrods is as much of a reflection on London as London is on Harrods. Where there were British employees who had worked at the store for the last 30 years despite the changing owners. These employees helped me debunk rumors that Harrods is no longer looked at positively by the British and explained to me how the connections and friendships they made working at the store are what make them such happy employees and what make the store so successful. Moreover, the number of employees from international backgrounds was outstanding, this was something that the store is clearly proud of as each employee has a name tag accompanied by the flag of the country they're originally from. This dedication to diversity as well as the melting pot of people from different cultures working happily together in a store that continues to break records and reach new levels of success every year, is in my opinion what London truly strives to be.

I'd have to say that my entire experience in regards to this project has been very positive. I found myself enjoying the work because I was genuinely interested in learning more about my topic. While I had no specific expectations on what kind of impacts or correlations there were between Harrods and different areas of culture and commerce, I was quite pleased with how much information I was able to find as well as the different ways I was able to articulate these findings whether it be through maps, timelines, newspaper clippings, interviews or pictures.

In conclusion, through this project, I not only learned more about a business but about a British institution. I was able to gain a wealth of knowledge on British history over the last 200 years, the royal family, Knightsbridge area and the British economy to name a few. Through introducing my friends to everything I learned I found myself becoming an expert on London's many faces and by interviewing real Londoners working in this city I was able to form a clear image of what it's like to live here, not only as a tourist or a student but as a local in my own right.