#sparked a fire

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

For those of y'all newer folks who don't know who Paladin is.... Intro, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 8b, Part 9, Part 10, Part 10b, Extra

[muffinlance]

The feral cat gator of a 13 year old freshly scarred Zuko being forcibly adopted by the foggy swamp tribe! Bonus points if they willfully ignore the fact he's a firebender and treat him as a very strange waterbender bending-wise

It was Earth Kingdom ships that drove the metal one onto the reefs, so when the little thing came crawling up through the marsh spitting and hissing and dressed in red, they knew it weren’t no earthbender. No matter how much mud it had tripped in, trying to find where the ground stopped sucking at its feet.

“Wow-ee,” said Old Earl, “that sure is one way of keepin’ off the ‘squito-chiggers.”

And they all watched from Big Earl’s porch, sitting or rocking, as them bugs came for the all-you-can-eat and ended up on the bar-b-que.

“Sure is some weird bending,” said Little Earl, who was taller than Big Earl, but when they'd been twelve and they’d wrestled for the title it hadn't been Little Earl who’d won.

The little thing looked maybe twelve, too. And he was little little. But he had that same look like he was going to shove someone’s face in the mud until they said otherwise, as he stood there all panting and dripping and just realizing they’d been watching him this whole time.

“It’s firebending,” the one-kid mud-wrestler said, as bugs kept pop-snapping into flames around him.

Old Earl cupped a hand over his ear, like he couldn’t hear. And he kept doing it, while the kid got louder and louder about that bending of his, but quieter and quieter about looking at them like they were his next bugs.

“Oh, firebending,” Old Earl said, nodding like he’d only just got it, when the kid had stomped straight up to his chair. “Right, right, Old Jane’s got fire-water-bending, too. Why don’t you take him to her, boys.”

“It’s not-- ugh,” shouted the kid, but maybe he only had the one volume. Certainly only had the one volume for stomping, even though stomping was what got a fellow’s shoes shoved down so deep in the mud they’d be seeing them again as mole-shrimp hats. Not that the kid had shoes. Neither did Earl, Earl, or Earl. ‘Cept for Fancy Earl, but he’d gone off to Ba-Singing-Se, to be fancy.

Anyway, Old Jane was the best at turning anything and everything into fire water, which was the kind of thing a fellow called his or her liquor when they wanted fancy folk to keep right on walking. Was really good for making shouty little firebrands take their naps, too, which let Old Jane get her glowing mitts all over that fresh burn of his. And the love-bites from the shark-wrasses that had probably been half the reason the kid had come a-shore all a-shouting in the first place.

“Nope,” diagnosed Old Jane, when the kid woke back up. “That’s just how he talks. Mother was a screamer-bird, I’d say.”

“You take that back about my mother,” screamed their screamer-bird, who had pretty good hearing for someone who’s ear had lost the same fight as his eye. Anyway, Old Jane had done the best she could about both, and nothing was on fire that shouldn’t be, and she had that extra quilt she’d been working on that needed a body under it

And the waves and the shark-wrasses had all the rest of the kid’s crew

So sure enough they set their little screamer-bird up with a nest and let him cry loud as he wanted.

Anyway, if there was one thing Earl Earl Earl and Jane knew, it was how to make a joke so good the other person didn’t even know it were a joke.

“Firebending,” their little fledgling shouted, and waved his arms around, like all that fire pointed at no one was going to get them startled off.

“A-yep,” nodded Old Earl. “That there is some fire-water-bending. Just like Old Jane.”

Old Jane wasn’t the kind of gal who showed off, but she wasn’t the kind who missed no cue, either. She swirled a lick o’ liquor out of her latest barrel and twirled it ‘round and straight into her mouth, and when she spit it out, it looked so much like the little bird’s breath-o’-fire that he didn’t even notice the spark rocks she kept on her fingers as jewelry. No one did, ‘til they’d seen the trick a few times.

The kid’s mouth hung open so low and so long, a moth-tick flew in. That was some kind of life lesson, that was. The swamp was good at sending those.

The Earth Kingdom sent troops a-stompin’ through, losing boots and scaring catigators out of their sunning spots left and right, askin’ all rumbly about those fires they’d spotted, and if anyone from that shipwreck had made it on shore, and talkin’ about how there’d be money in it for them if they made that last answer a “yes,” sounding like Fancy Earl and all his talk about commerce and living standards.

“Got a few parts of them ship people in the lagoon,” Big Earl said. “Probably still floatin’ if you want ‘em. But we better bring the shrimp-minnow nets, ‘cuase they’ll just slosh on through the turtle-sturgeon ones.”

“...No thank you,” the head stomper said, like sayin’ polite words made a fellow a polite man. He’d tracked those boots of his right up onto their porch without so much as a scuff on their mud rug. Even the kid had used the mud rug. “And the fire?”

“Oh,” said Little Earl, with a grin, “that was Old Jane.”

And she did her trick again, only less tricky, so they could see the spark rocks real good. “You boys want some fire water?” she offered. “It ain’t blinded no one who wasn’t already headed that way.”

They didn’t want any, which was grand, ‘cause she hadn’t really been offering.

When the last of them had gone stomping off back to the kind of land that let people stomp it, it took them two whole hours to lure out the catigators from under the porch. And their little screamer bird, too.

“...Why didn’t you turn me in?”

“What?” asked Old Earl, cupping his ear.

“Why—”

“What?”

“—didn’t—”

“WHAT?”

“—you—”

“Speak up, boy,” Old Earl said. “I never heard such a quiet child.”

And boy, did that set their bird back to singing.

[numbuh424]

made me think of him

[machveil]

BestFriend!Simon Riley and his big, beautiful brown eyes. he doesn’t think they’re anything special, but he knows you like them. is it playing dirty when Simon looks at you through his eyelashes when he wants something? maybe, but can’t you just let him stay over for the night? he’ll be quiet - he always is. your couch is a little too small for him, you don’t mind him squeezing into bed with you, right?

BestFriend!Simon Riley that has such dark irises they could be mistaken for black. sometimes you can’t tell where his iris stops and his pupil starts. eyes half-lidded, pale eyelashes droopy - Simon’s resting face usually has his eyes looking tired, almost heavy with sleep even when he’s wide awake. if you ignore the way his eyebrows seem to furrow, knitting together for positive and negative emotions alike, his drowsy gaze is almost dreamy - especially when he’s looking at you

BestFriend!Simon Riley who stares at you until you notice. lounging on your couch as you talk to him, your gaze focused on the tv while his is on you. two episodes of your favorite show, that’s how long Simon was able to stare at you before you noticed - you spared him a few glances, but it never really struck you. he cracks a smile when you ask, “Do I have something on my face?”, a deep hum rumbling in his chest as he shifts his gaze to the tv, pale eyelashes catching the light, “Nah, just lookin’.”

BestFriend!Simon Riley that stares at his ceiling at night, legs crossed and arms behind his head. one of the now rare times he isn’t at your place, a rare instance he isn’t cozied up and surrounding you. deep, pitch black eyes in the dark room looking up, eyelids heavily with sleep as he dozes off waiting to march back to your place tomorrow, those big, beautiful brown eyes waiting to look at you as he asks to stay over again

[hyunpic]

HYUNJIN | SKZ-CODE EP. 52

[molinaesque]

Cooper tries to get Lucy to break her rule and become like him only for it to backfire and remind himself of who he once was.

"Golden rule, motherfucker."

[agir1ukn0w]

sorry but snow is such a well written iconic villain and donald sutherland performs him so fucking good it's almost hilarious how i start practically foaming at the mouth every time the man opens his mouth to say something deplorable in those movies, like he's so utterly and despicably wrong about almost every crucial thing from katniss and peeta's relationship to human nature as a whole and yet the second he starts talking about how hope is the only thing stronger than fear and how you have to allow a little hope but control it so its spark doesn't grow into revolution and how it's the things we love the most that destroy us you bet your ass i am on the floor screaming crying throwing up because that is my psychotic mustache-twirling villain RIGHT THERE

[viacursecasting]

💙❤️🖤

[egguv]

[Touhou + Final Fantasy]

Black mage Marisa

More designs: | Reimu & Sanae | Junko |

[almondpiglet]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAREST REIGEN!!

everyone thanks you for entering their lives :')

[atlinmerrick]

Spark: How Fanfiction and Fandom Can Set Your Creativity On Fire

Spark is all about encouragement, permission, it's about firing you up.

Spark: How Fanfiction and Fandom Can Set Your Creativity On Fire hopes to help you believe that your fandom writing, drawing, podficcing – whatever you're creating right now – is, was, and ever shall be legitimate, important, and a fantastic way to expand your community, develop your skills, and above all help you find your voice in the world.

Spark's more than forty essays and interviews from best-selling writers Anne Jamison, Claire O'Dell, Diane Duane, Henry Jenkins, KJ Charles, Lyndsay Faye, Sara Dobie Bauer and many others discuss, encourage, and shout about how fic and fandom in all their glories can absolutely inspire you, set your creativity on fire – and change your world.

Click through to see the entire table of contents — who's in the book and the wonders about which they've written in Spark!

[odd-drive]

Album art for Homeless Romantic III & IV by Lost in the Sauce, a DIY punk artist based in Oneonta, New York

[godbirdart]

「 hearts in anger bleed 」

[hollowflight-propaganda]

"we want more realistic traumatized characters who aren't perfect victims!"

y'all can't even handle steven universe and winter wof

[codes04]

Urzai before bed

[swan2swan]