#so i was feeling very very bummed out after trying to maintain some humor towards it the past two weeks

[strawberrywindow]

From this article:

Let Tim have fun as Emil in Deadpool. Surely those two wouldn't cause horrific amounts of chaos together 🤣

[toomanyfandoms02]

Shameless // Fred Weasley

Summary - The gang challenges Fred and the Reader to fluster eachother after each being called shameless.

Word Count - 1.7k

I'm not gonna lie this was hot LMAOO

Fred and I were often compared to eachother. These were usually the words we were called

Outgoing

Spontaneous

Idiots

Humorous

Shameless

Pranksters

Delinquents

These were said by a mixture of people, but most knew us as best friends. I marched the halls with the twins every day, but everyone knew I was a just a little closer to Fred. There was just some connection there. A connection lots of people took out of context.

Sure, we flirted, but I flirt with a lot of people. Theres another word we were called, flirts! Though this had a good majority of my friends convinced that we were in love. It was at the point where people openly talked about it in front of us.

*"Nice ass Weasley!" I shouted as I entered the Great Hall. This drew a few eyes towards me, snickering. Fred turned around and looked to me, gesturing to his bum.*

*"Oh this old thing? Nothing compared to yours." I licked my finger and made a sizzle sound. Everyone was right, we really had no shame.*

And that's what my friends were on about at the moment. A big group of us were sitting in the Gryffindor common room. This included Harry, Hermione, Ron, the twins, Seamus, Dean, Angelina, and Ginny.

"You two flirt all the time without getting all ruffled. How do you do it?" Ginny asked.

"I don't know, it's just how we are I guess." I shrugged to Fred as I answered. He nodded in agreement.

"Matter of fact, I don't think I've ever seen either of you flustered." Dean butted in.

"I say we change that." George said with a simple nod. Fred looked at him with furrowed brows. "I say we challenge them!" It was clear that not one person in the room knew what George was on about, so he continued. "Alright see, I give them 3 days to see who can fluster who first. One of us has to see it though, to know it happened. Can the unflusterables fluster one another you think?" Georges arms were crossed at his chest cockily.

"I think that's a brilliant idea." Hermione agreed.

"That's easy, I'll totally win. I have no shame, no embarrassment." Fred announced with glee.

"We will see about that." I smiled at him with one eyebrow raised.

*Oh its on.*

After barely an hour of thinking about this whole challenge alone in my dorm, I realized that I walked myself right into failure. It wasnt that I though Fred could win, it was that I *knew* I would lose. In the way that I had never really charmed any boy. I didn't have anything up my sleeve. I was really just going to have to wing it.

That being said, Fred was quite the charmer. It was hilarious watching 1st years see him for the first time and swoon over him. Pulling girls in with simple winks and little waves across the room.

But now it was dinner time, so I see this as round one to this weird challenge George has concocted.

I made sure to make my way into the Great Hall nearly unnoticed, walking in with a sea of other students. I immediately spotted Fred and made a beeline towards him. Some of the group spotted me but said nothing, letting me go with my improvised plan.

I stood right behind Fred, reaching my hand into his hair and running my fingers though it. He turned his head slightly to see me.

"Hello love." He smiled at me sweetly. I continued, wrapping my arms around his neck lightly and leaning down so my chin was rested on his shoulder.

"You're hair is so soft." He turned his face to mine, our noses almost bumping.

"Thanks sweet cheeks." He put a small kis on my nose which made me smile, sitting next to him after.

"Nothing? Really? No blushy cheeks, or stuttered speech?" Angelina was flabbergasted clearly, her hands gesturing wildly in the air as she spoke.

"I honestly don't know if it's possible." George shrugged. "I just thought it would be interesting if it was."

"Oh I've got plans don't worry, this sexy ass will be blushing to the moon and back when I'm done with her." Fred looked down to me, smirking. He gave a challenging face.

"I know your deepest darkest secrets Weasley. Don't test me." I raised my eyebrow cockily as the whole group just stared puzzled.

"I wish I could talk to Cho like that." Harry huffed, earning a laugh from most of the group. (Aside from Ginny, who I was quick to tap her hand under the table at the comment. She had told me weeks ago how agonizing she felt.)

Later that night a good portion of the gang was hanging out in the common room again. I had just walked through the entryway and saw Fred sitting on the couch. As soon as we made eye contact he patted his lap. All heads whipped my way. I walked over and sat right on his lap, making myself comfortable. He grabbed my face lightly and put a small kiss on my jaw.

"Where were you love, we missed you." The few first years that had joined whatever conversation was going on looked as if they were going to be sick.

"Just went on a walk handsome." Everyone shook their heads with disappointed looks.

"Nothing, seriously?" Hermione laughed in disbelief. The youngins asked about the situation and it was explained to them. They all giggled about it for a while as we watched. Soon Fred was leaned very close to my ear.

"You should just give up now beautiful, you know you're going to lose." He whispered ever so lightly in my ear. I pushed his face away from mine so his ear was towards me.

"Really cute of you to think so." I whispered back. That was the last we spoke that night seeing as it was 10 pm.

I woke up the next morning hearing giggles from Hermione and Angelina. I sat up slowly, rubbing my eyes. They got very quite as they saw me waking up.

"What are you two up to?" They looked down at the books they had in their hands, ignoring me. Just then I heard our shared bathroom open, seeing Fred come out wearing only a towel hanging low on his waist. I looked him up and down with a smile. "Not bad Weasley. Working out lately?"

I would never admit it outloud, but this one almost got me. He's only in a damn towel. I mean come on, everyone found Fred attractive.

Right?

"Yeah. Maybe you can try this whole thing in my dorm later? Maybe surprise me?" He winked and left the room quickly.

"Hey! Get your arse back here, that's my towel!" The girls followed us close behind, peaking out of the door to watch us in the hallway between the rest of the dorms.

"Oh you want it back? Her you go love." He pulled it right off his body and handed it to me. I knew if I closed my eyes, or covered them, they would count it as a loss for me. So I just maintained eye contact with him and yanked it from his hands. "Nervous?" He squinted at me. Man was the boy lucky there was not one else in these halls at 6 am.

"Never." I replied with a smile and turned away, walking back into the dorm. "Nice try ladies!" I dropped the towel in our hamper and they fell back onto Hermiones bed with a loud groan.

Later that day Hermione, Fred, George, me, Dean and Seamus had free time in Care of Magical Creatures.

"He was literally naked in front of her and she didn't even blink." Mione deadpanned.

"Maybe it's because shes seen it before." Fred elbowed my side.

"You wish." I rolled my eyes.

"Maybe I do." He stared daggers into my eyes.

"At this point I feel like even if you guys made out nothing would happen." George shrugged. This gave everyone a collective evil smile.

"Oh are we doing that now?" I asked as nonchalant as possible. Even with my heart racing a mile a second. Fred looked at me with confusion. "Unless you're too pussy." That wiped the confusion off his face.

"Nope." He grabbed my face and pulled it inches from his.

"I'm just going to warn you, I've never kissed, let alone made out with, a boy before. So I apologize in advance." I laugh-whispered to him, pushing my lips onto his. I grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him closer, running my hands through his hair.

His hand traced my jaw with one hand and the other was gripped to my hair.

"Pretty good for never kissing anyone, you sure you arent lying?" He said quietly in between kisses.

"I would never lie to you." He took my open mouth as an opportunity to use his tongue and deepen the kiss. I was ready to give up at this point, this boy was unknowingly ruining me. "Would you ever lie to me?" More questions between kisses.

"Never."

"You like me don't you?" His nose bumped with mine at the question. Starting to kiss up my jaw near my ear.

"Of course love." He laughed lightly, pulling back from the kiss. We turned back to the group which was a mixture of disgust, confusion, and knowing glances.

"Seemed like a lot of whispers for just making out don't you think?" Georges arms were crossed over his chest. We both shrugged.

"Sometimes friends just make out." I admitted, which was a very obvious lie.

"So you would make out with me then?" George challenged. Fred grabbed my waist and pulled me closer to him with a glare to George.

"I think I won in a different way than anticipated." George smirked. "So are you guys going to get together or what?" Everyone nodded.

"Was that what this bullshit was about?" Fred asked loudly.

"Yeah of course. Two dimwits you are, walked right into it." Hermione shook her head. Fred grabbed my hand and squeezed it, making me blush furiously.

"I win!" He pointed to my heated cheeks.

"Shut up ares hole." I elbowed his side lightly.

"It didnt even take 3 days!" George cheered.

*Boy are we going to have some stories when we get older.*

[funnuraba]

A Rough Moral Overview of Archie Comics: Teen Propaganda Machine

Part 1: The 1940s

1941: Archie first appears in a small feature near the end of PEP Comics #22. His popularity builds rapidly, with the audience apparently writing in to express immense interest in the short monthly Archie comic.

At first the Archie story isn’t even mentioned on the cover, but Archie himself slowly starts appearing on the cover, always with PEP’s big star at the time, The Shield. The Shield on the cover is at first much larger than Archie, but he shrinks over time, and after Veronica’s introduction, she and Betty start to feature on covers as well. The Shield continues shrinking...

And by issue #49, the magazine is PEP Comics: Starring Archie Andrews! Archie quickly becomes its own imprint, and the only one of PEP’s lineup that survives into the present day. Ads in the magazine advertise an Archie radio show that was spurred by what was a apparently a massive outpouring of interest from PEP’s teenage subscribers. The concept of teenagerhood itself was a new invention dating from 1944. Archie’s reality included things like school, dating, and modern teen problems like trying to maintain a car and deal with wartime rationing.

Also, sending your dog to fight Nazis. (Note: the above are two separate stories; no Nazis ever actually invaded Riverdale. Oscar, Archie’s dog, gave birth on at least two occasions, including during her army tour, and eventually faded from existence.)

At this stage, minstrel-style caricatures of black men appear on occasion in Riverdale (as train attendants and no-account bums who steal clothing out of the trash), and Yellow Peril-style caricatures of Japanese people are a regular fixture in other PEP features like “Captain Commando and the Boy Soldiers”. As a side note, Chinese people are depicted quite differently in Captain Commando. At this point in US history, they were seen as important potential allies in the war against the Japanese. In Captain Commando, they’re drawn like actual humans in comparison to Japanese soldiers. One story shows a Chinese warrior who’s been bamboozled by foolish Buddhist ideals of peace, but finally snaps out of it and gets his followers to join up with US forces in resisting Japanese occupiers. Chinese-Americans were depicted less frequently, but also running in PEP for a time was a rather remarkable depiction (for the time) of a Chinese-American hero: Fu Chang, International Detective. Chinese people would later be collapsed into the Yellow Peril phenomenon in US pop culture and there were some very racist depictions within Archie Comics, but in the 40s there was a different perspective on display for a while.

(Captain Commando and his Boy Soldiers have since lapsed into the public domain; evidently the heroic quality of child soldiers lost its gleam after WWII and reviving the property was never deemed profitable.)

Also in the 40s, many, many stories end with a quite literal punchline in which Archie gets taken out to the woodshed and beaten by his father for causing trouble. This was PEP’s light-hearted humorous fare that apparently spoke quite deeply to a teenage audience of this era. The depiction of corporal punishment is neither “pro” nor “anti”, it’s simply an unavoidable consequence handed down from on high. Archie’s misadventures lead inevitably to physical punishment from an authority figure, no matter how much or how little he’s to blame for things going wrong. Mr. Andrews himself is sometimes a figure of fun during this period, but the 40s and 50s are the time when he most often feels like a self-insert for the writers and artists, who would have been closer to his position in life than Archie’s.

Archie’s position, though, isn’t entirely as the object of abuse. It’s pretty safe to assume that the writers and artists also grew up with corporal punishment and can sympathize with the experience--though they’ve now entered the stage of life where they understand that it was done only for their own good. Archie at the end of these stories is both resentful and rueful; he wishes it hadn’t happened, but there’s no room in the pages of PEP to contemplate a world where it doesn’t have to.

Violence was much more accepted in the 40s, including against the girls themselves--for their own good, in this case, but it’s still jarring to see a man give Betty and Veronica black eyes. Their crime in this case was, of course, being so silly and man-crazy that they nearly drowned him and themselves.

Often the violence was more cartoonish in nature, but it was only in the 40s that you’d see Betty showing up at Veronica’s door with Moe Szyslak’s weapon of choice.

The porter in this panel is one of the kindest portrayals of a black man in this period; the others (and the one depiction of a black woman that I noticed) are frankly unreproducible without heavy content warnings. Also in the 40s, fat and/or ugly women exist only as an object of fun or outright cruelty.

Vague “reducing plans” were advertised in the pages of Archie in the 1940s. This particular method was, as the name suggests, seaweed pills that were also marketed as chewing gum.

You may notice in some stories that the “ugly” and undesirable woman has very nearly the same face as Archie himself; the irony here is very likely unintentional. It’s rarely (seriously) suggested that there’s anything morally wrong with Archie aspiring to a girl much prettier than he is, but an ugly girl expressing interest in any boy is a figure of fun right up into... well, the present day. The Gabby pictured in the panel above her was a semi-recurring character, one of the only plus-size recurring characters ever depicted in Archie. As her name suggests, she was a gossip and one of the undesirable girls, but she was sometimes allowed to be friendly with Veronica or Betty without immediate karmic punishment. She’s also notable because she’s not only one of the only plus-size characters, she’s one of the very few plus-size female or teenage characters. Mr. Andrews, Mr. Weatherbee and Pop Tate all survived the 40s, but Gabby didn’t.

Betty at the inception of “Archie” (the comic) was just Girl. She rather liked Archie and he liked her, and he would try to impress/date her but end up having his monthly funny adventure. But only once Veronica was introduced did she start to gain more dimension, this time as Other Girl. Veronica was rather nice to begin with and it took a short while for them to start getting played off each other as “characters”. There was still little difference. Veronica was always rich and as a result became snooty fairly quickly, but her flaws were the flaws of an object. They existed to create difficulties for Archie, in his struggle to impress her, and Betty was differentiated only by not being snooty.

When Betty and Veronica were allies, it was because Archie had blown it somehow, and they were naturally compelled to be allies by virtue of both being girls. (When they didn’t like each other, it was also because they were both girls, and such was the natural state of being girls.) The panel above--both in the same pose, their identical faces lifted in scorn towards all men--would be echoed in other later stories, whether by chance or by accident.

Their posing in the 40s was frankly pretty ludicrous and transparent in its intentions.

Sexual attraction wasn’t explicitly commented on in the 40s comics in the way we understand “explicit” today, but it’s allowed to exist more openly than in later years. The va-va-voom effect highlighting the breasts would have to become more euphemistic as the decades passed.

In general, there was very little pretense in the 40s.

Artists had no qualms about showing the girls nearly in the nude (I cropped out a panel of Veronica in the bath above), nor about showing adult men leering at them. Even Mr. Weatherbee was occasionally moved by their charms. Generally adult men were “punished” for showing visible attraction, but only in humorous ways. It was more common for the teenage boys to drool over the girls, but the only disapproval shown when grown men did it came from women their own age, playing the role of scold or prudish spinster. There was also the occasional gag in which an adult man was misunderstood as a “masher” or peeper and received undeserved punishment from the supposed target.

There were various write-ups of celebrity activity in the 40s and 50s, and there too the attitudes towards women were pretty much what you’d expect, but even in the late 1940s the realities of life were not entirely veiled from teenage eyes. There was room for what would now be considered adult jokes.

Also in the 40s, Archie cross-dressed, like, a lot, in a way that noticeably vanished once the 50s rolls around. It’s always as a gag, and it’s usually noted that he makes an ugly girl, but in this era it seems to have been an idea that could be poked fun at without threatening the moral fiber of all America by the mere suggestion.

In fact, one semi-famous 1948 story, “The Battle of the Jitterbugs” (reproduced more fully elsewhere) revolves entirely around the girls and the boys competing in a “fair contest’ to see which sex is better at dancing--since boys only lead and girls only follow, it’s impossible to determine who can dance better overall. The obvious solution is for two girls to dance with each other and two boys to dance with each other.

Crucially, the idea is suggested by Reggie, the prankster of the group, framing it as a joke from its inception. Archie, the main character, follows through with it as a means of asserting male superiority. There’s also no possibility that two boys could dance, or two girls could dance, without the conceit of one performing the role of the opposite gender. But in practice, the whole thing does involve a lengthy depiction of two boys dancing together, and indeed, jokingly flirting with each other.

Again, the joke-flirting comes in the form of mocking from Reggie, both en femme and en homme. Archie, the protagonist and everyman, is uncomfortable throughout and finally throws Reggie right out Pop Tate’s door after Reggie goes too far in impugning his masculinity.

At this stage, the usual band of crones step in to punish him for imagined crimes against women, and he finishes the story sitting in bed with a broken leg, making a pronouncement that stands out rather sharply to the modern eye: “Confidentially, Jug! I’m no longer interested in women... or dancing!”

Veronica and Betty are significantly more comfortable with each other. In fact, it’s a rare 1940s story where they don’t quarrel with each other at all! Veronica’s femininity is seemingly unthreatened by the hat and pants, even though Archie Comics would continue issuing dire warnings against women in pants up through the mid-1970s.

It’s hard to imagine they lost after this! The tone of this page is downright celebratory, a rare occasion of early Betty and Veronica working together and coming out the victors of the story, not by one of them winning Archie, but by both of them showing their own skill at something without trying to show the other up. “Battle of the Jitterbugs” is a true rarity in these early years, a depiction of female triumph that doesn’t exactly defy the era’s pop culture as a whole--women were creating their own art even in the 1940s--but it does defy nearly every other Archie story up to the mid-1970s.

[coolkat122]

Twisted Teeth: Vampire Gaara x Reader Chapter 1 Part 2

"What is it?" 

"I need to be getting home before my family begins to worry" I started packing up all of Jiraiya's things that I borrowed and placed them back where I had found them (probably), and begin making my way toward the door.

"I'll be back sometime soon to check up on you!" I rushed out the door, heading for my wagon, full speed ahead on home.

~~~

When I got back no one was the wiser as to what happened and that I was even out so late, they all assumed that I did the smart thing and found a safe place to rest for the night.

My mother and father were so relieved that I was alright and questioned me relentlessly on how the mist villagers treated me, I laughed it off as best I could and assured them that there wasn't any need for concern.

Other than the obvious caution I needed to have around that man everything was more or less fine, the trade went well, I never came upon any bandits or beast along the way (you know other than the vampire but I left that out).

They became calm and my father exclaimed that this would be the last time he would ever be sick again so that I wouldn't need to do dealings like this for the rest of my life ever again.

I felt kinda bummed about it cause it was kind of fun but I wasn't too stressed out over it for the previously mentioned reasons, that I am not a traveling type, I prefer to do business in the comforts of my own village, so I just smiled and humored my father while my brother bombed me with questions like.

"What was it like? Did you see anything "weird", was it really bloody like their second title suggests? Did you meet Zabuza" I answered my brother's questions though my responses weren't as interesting as he had hoped.

"Misty, define "weird" and no and thank the heavens no" His shoulders drooped and his head hanged a bit low as he ew'd himself away to go finish his chores.

I held a small smile on my face, happy to see his cheerful little face again though a little sad that I couldn't provide him with the exciting tales he wanted (not really because that would be I saw messed up stuff that I am much better off without). 

"I'm going to go rest a bit then I'll be ready to help with the shop," I told my parents who encouraged me to take the day off instead. 

"Aw, but Dad never takes the day off when he gets back..." I whined but they were harder to move than a boulder on this so I let it go.

I sighed with defeat as I went to my room to get undressed and take a quick nap.

~~~~

After such a fulfilling nap, I then deiced to take a walk around the village and hopefully meet up with some friends... and perhaps Naruto.

My face flushed at the thought of seeing my long time crush, I started to wonder if maybe I should have dressed a bit up but then realized it has only really been like a day since he last saw me, there wasn't really any need to make it into something fancy.

"Hey, (Y/n)!" I stopped in my tracks, happily turning to face that loud booming voice in the source of its origins, as my goofy blond friend came jogging up toward me.

"You're finally awake!" He said with a cheerful smile, that was just beaming with those shiny pearls of his, I shot back one of my own as I replied back.

"Yeah, wait you know that I was napping? When did you find out I was back?" His smile became more mischievous as he looped me in for a side hug before placing his arm around my shoulders.

"Come on you know how your brother talks, I found out you were back within like three minutes? Upon your return though when I got to your place you were already resting so I had to wait to welcome you back" Naruto happily responded still keeping his body close to mine.

If I had known he was going to visit me so soon, I would have stayed up a bit longer, darn it all! I did my best as to not blush like a fool after hearing his response but it wasn't easy given how sweet I found it to be.

"You know I wouldn't have minded you waking me up, honestly I feel like maybe I napped for too long, I wasted half of a day when there's still so much I would have liked to have done on my day off" Naruto's smile brightens.

"It's your day off?" I nodded before answering verbally.

"Yeah, but I wanted to return to work as soon as I finished resting, though the folks had other plans" moving his arms off of my shoulder and instead deciding to take my hand into his, Naruto beamed.

"Then you should come to Ramen Ichiraku* with me" I was still hungry from the trip and hadn't grabbed a bite to eat yet in hopes of meeting Naruto there at the shop, so I was happy to see how well this worked out for me.

"I would be delighted to join you" His eyes became a brighter shade of blue as he proceeded to guide me to Ichiraku with our hands still linked together.

Teuchi the ramen shop owner and his daughter greeted us happily and didn't fail to mention that they were happy to see me back so safe and sound, before taking our orders.

While we waited Naruto struck up a bit of a conversation with me regarding my trip.

"So how was your trip to The Mist Village? You didn't run into any trouble did you?" Worry was shining in those blue eyes of his as he stared at me waiting to be reassured that everything went smoothly.

"No, thank God, my trip was decently pleasant, nothing really concerning happened during the trip there and back, everything was handled about as well as one can hope in business" Naruto nodded, thankful to hear that my trip was a safe one.

"You know... I would have gone with you if you had told me you were heading to the Mist village"

"In fact, he almost went anyway when he heard from your brother that your father got sick so you were takin care of business in his stead" Ayame (Teuchi's daughter) teasingly joined in on the conversation as she placed down our orders.

Naruto's face became bright red as he shot off excuses for why he was planning to follow after me on my business trip while I could only smile and stare at how cute I thought he looked and how touched I was that he cared so much.

"As much as I would have loved some company on my little trip, I'm glad you remained here, you already have enough on your hands as is with working hard to be Hokage, you know" Naruto shook his head as he gazed at me seriously. 

"All of that can wait! I've been to the Mist Village before and though it's calmed down some, it's still got a lot of ways to go before it's visitor-friendly"  My heart couldn't help but leap and bounce upon seeing how concern and worked up Naruto was over me.

It was all so sweet and very touching that I couldn't help but feel joy, however strange that might sound, my face became red and I took his hand in mine and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, though I really wasn't sure if that was smart.

"Thank you for your concern, now that I know this, next time I would be more than happy to have you come with me" Naruto's face was redder than mine once it dawned on him that I had kissed his cheek.

"A-alright, good...l-lets eat before our food gets cold" I nodded and happily ate my food beside Naruto though sadly once I was done, I had to go. 

I had just remembered that I was supposed to pay the vampire a visit, having enjoyed Naruto's company so much I had forgotten all about the vampire for a while. 

"Are you sure you can't spend any more time out with me?" His blue eyes gazed at me like a sad puppy but I had to remain strong.

"Yes, I am... Though I'm off work for the day there are still some chores that need to be done, I'm sorry" Naruto shook his head with a small smile sadly playing upon his lips.

"No, it's alright, we'll just hang out some more later, see ya till then" Naruto waved, walking off to do whatever he had planned I suppose.

While I had the pleasure of trying to find something I think of what to do with my vampire "friend", it was a little too late for hunting and I didn't quite like the idea of giving him my own, so I was at a lost on what to do, but.

I still went to visit him as promised just empty-handed since no one had fresh enough caught meat with blood in it at this time.

~~~

"I'm so sorry that I don't have anything for you to eat, I overslept once I got back..." The vampire was still so unreadable that it worried me as to what he might be thinking.

"...it's alright, I'm not so hungry that I will go berserk but I will need to feast some time soon" I nodded, feeling super thankful that he was so calm and understanding while making sure to take note on his warning.

"I promise I'll have something for you tomorrow" Sea-green orbs were locked onto me as the person they were attached to maintained his signature blank expression.

Not going to lie, I wasn't a fan of his unreadable expressions, it made it hard for me to feel comfortable around him, I wish that his eyes would give away his thoughts and feelings like the day earlier today.

"Well... time to change those bandages" I tried to say as cheerfully and upbeat as possible, so that I could appear unfazed by him but... I was not successful. 

I went to where I remember placing everything as I felt the vampire's eyes following my every movement... kinda creepy but I suppose understandable enough as to why they were on me, with not much else for him to be doing.

"Some of this might sting, so sorry in advance" I applied the ointments and carefully treated his wounds that were not as healed as I was hoping, I was told that vampires healed at alarming speeds that greatly surpassed humans, I wonder when exactly was that going to kick in? 

"May I ask as to why do you even care so much as to dress and bandage my wounds? Surely you must feel that you've done enough, so why go through all of this unnecessary trouble?" This again? I pretty much answered this question of his earlier didn't I?

"I haven't completed my job until I feel that you are healthy enough to take care of yourself"

"...but you don't need to, what's in it for you for when I recover? Are you hoping that I'll reward you with eternal life? I can do that right now if you wish, it would save us the trouble, I'd been fully recovered and you'd have what you were after" I didn't mean to frown and scoff the way I did upon his offer as I did.

I didn't want to possibly offend him with such a reaction, but unfortunately, my body speaks quicker than I think, "I don't want your eternal life, something like that doesn't interest me in the slightest, I just want to help, that's it though I'm sorry, that doesn't include drinking my blood if that's what you need to heal, I'll gladly hunt a rabbit or something in the likes for you tomorrow as promised" 

"Why? I'm afraid I don't understand as to why would you just help me with no desire for a reward" I frowned concerningly as I tried to remain understanding of his confusion. 

"Because helping someone in itself is it's own reward... so long as that someone doesn't try to harm you or anyone else afterward" I shot him a hopeful look as I strongly hinted at him possibly becoming a good vampire and leaving humans alone.

Though as expected he went silent and his face was as unreadable as ever... could he please see that I'm uncomfortable with not knowing what's going on in that brain of his, please, and toss me a bone?

"Is that what you wish?" My eyes widen at this question as I thought over my response carefully.

To be continued ➡️

[chevalier-on-the-wall]

Story: Inexorably Drawn

For those first two furtive days, Ghost and Guardian picked through the shell of the city. It was a study in contrasts, vibrant with chipped paint and rampant vines outside, drab and dusty inside. The Fallen were conspicuously absent. At first, it was a blessing; the Guardian hadn't been able to find any weapon other than a sturdy length of rusted pipe. But no Fallen meant no supplies to scavenge.

It was the third day, and they had found an old, dilapidated music radio setup on the top floor of a skyscraper. The Ghost was hard at work doing his best to get it up and running again while his Guardian slumped against the wall and watched.

His Guardian had looked so powerful and heroic when he was first revived. Now he was tired and disheveled, with parched lips and an empty stomach. It reminded the Ghost a little too much of the scan results from the old bones that held his Guardian's spark. Hunger. Dehydration. Stress. Hypothermia.

Their situation was far from hopeless; the Ghost knew that whenever food and water were scarce, some Guardians would just end it quickly and stand by for resurrection. Still, his Guardian was new, and both suicide and starvation seemed unreasonably cruel. He hoped it wouldn't come to that.

"...Light?" his Guardian asked out of nowhere. His voice was hoarse with thirst.

The Ghost ascended out of a bed of wires. "What about the Light?"

The Guardian frowned to himself as he thought. "No...Torch?"

The Ghost blinked, not sure what to make of the question.

"Sorry, what are you again?" His Guardian looked up at him, embarrassed.

"I'm your Ghost," he replied gently. Then, after a pause, he added, "You can call me Torch if you want."

"If I keep forgetting the word 'Ghost', I might." His Guardian mustered a smile. "How is the work? Coming along, I mean. How is the work coming along?"

"Pretty well. I think I might be able to make a call to the Tower with this."

The Guardian hauled himself up off the floor to get a closer look as the Ghost made a few final adjustments. There was the distinct sound of electrical sparks, before the radio erupted into static, causing him to jolt with surprise. "Hey, it works! You got it working!  ...What now?" He looked to the Ghost helplessly.

"Uh...hang on." The Ghost drifted closer to the remnants of a connected mic setup that hissed with static. "Come in, Tower. This is a Ghost. I have a newly-raised Guardian with me, only a few days old. We need extraction. Tower, do you read?"

There was only a hiss of static in reply. The Guardian leaned in toward the old mic to try his luck. "Hello?" he asked, voice laced with anxiety. "Is anyone there? Tower?"

"Let me try...." The Ghost dove back into the wires and out of sight. The Guardian could only see a few flickers of blue light, the static changing in volume and pitch for several nerve-wracking moments.

Then, without warning, the static abruptly gave way to a clear voice: "--breaking up. Who is this?"

"H-hello!" The Guardian bent over the mic again, wide-eyed with a sudden surge of hope. "Hello? Is this the Tower? I'm...new."

"New?" The voice on the other end sounded intrigued. "What is your name?"

"I...." The Guardian trailed off a moment. "My...Torch? No, my...Ghost. He said I was a Guardian. I'm new. Am...am I supposed to have a name? Because I don't know it."

When the voice replied, it was reassuring. "We can worry about that later. Where are you, Guardian?"

"City ruins. My Ghost called it the western EDZ. He says there used to be a lot of Fallen here, but they're all gone now. We're pretty high up, in a room with lots of old radio equipment, if that helps."

"Is your Ghost with you? Have him send me your coordinates."

The Guardian waved his Ghost over, who proceeded to recite a long string of numbers and letters that made utterly no sense to him.

"Good. I need you to stay there. I'm sending another Guardian to bring you home safe."

Wide-eyed, the Guardian pulled back from the mic long enough to look at his Ghost with a mix of nerves and hope, before leaning in to speak again. "Thank you! I'll stay right here! Thank you!"

"We'll meet soon. Zavala out." The static returned.

The Guardian looked to his Ghost, confused. "What's a Zavala and how do I have it out?"

The Ghost paused, caught off-guard. "...That was his name. You were talking to Commander Zavala. He was just signing off of the radio."

"Oh. Ohhhhhhh." The Guardian nodded as he absorbed this new knowledge. "He seemed nice."

"Zavala is the Titan Vanguard representative. Since you're a Titan yourself, you're going to be seeing a lot of him."

"Just how much of him is 'a lot'?"

"I meant, you...." The Ghost trailed off, noticing his Guardian's smile. "...Oh. You were trying to make a joke."

"We'll get our senses of humor lined up at some point, Torch. Ghost. That."

The Ghost's front nodes moved a little farther apart, as if he was peering curiously. "Where did 'Torch' come from, if you don't mind me asking?"

"You make it easier to see in dark places," said the Guardian. "And it sounds better than 'Flashlight'."

The Ghost couldn't help but laugh at that. "It does sound better. Am I 'Torch', then?"

"Do you want to be Torch?"

Did he want to be Torch? What kind of question was that? It was short, snappy, and his Guardian had come up with the name. Of course he wanted it! He moved upwards in the air about half a foot, gleeful. "You know what? Sure! From now on, my name is Torch!"

The Guardian grinned, though it soon faltered. "Now I just need a name for myself."

"You have time. There's no rush." The Ghost--now Torch--dipped back down to just below his Guardian's eye level.

"It feels like I should get one, though." The Guardian backed up into the wall and slumped against it again.

"If you want, once we get to the City, we can look through a bunch of name databases."

"Can we?" He looked up, once again hopeful. "And you'll help, right? I did get to name you, after all."

"I would be honored, Guardian."

They talked for hours, though as thirst took its toll on the Guardian, the conversation became increasingly one-sided. Torch was beginning to feel the pangs of worry again when their conversation was interrupted by the low whoosh of a ship overhead.

"That might be our ride," he explained when his Guardian gave him a worried look. The worry was banished almost immediately. "Come on. We should go meet them."

Their ride was a female Titan in thick, polished armor that Torch's Guardian was immediately enamored with. Despite his thirst, he managed to croak out question after question, even as he was herded onto her ship. On the flight to the Tower, she humored him, and even offered him a drink from a field canteen. While she was disciplined and patient, Torch couldn't shake the feeling that she was bummed about the absence of Fallen to shoot at, and really just wanted this errand to be over.

When the Guardian was ushered out of the ship, it was into an unfamiliar mess of metal platforms. He passed more ships, and more people than he ever expected to be in one place, most of them in armor. He still had plenty of questions, but their escort's patience had nearly run out, so it fell to Torch to answer them. Titan, Hunter, and Warlock. Human, Awoken, and Exo. Guardians and civilians. The frames that maintained the Tower. Yes, this was the Tower's hangar. A hangar is somewhere ships are stored.

They exited the hangar through a short corridor into an outdoor plaza. The sun was setting, painting the sky in fiery hues. The air was heady with the scent of foliage and, not too far away, hot food. The young Guardian saw a new person in combat gear every direction he turned his head. His questions abruptly stopped when he saw the great white sphere hanging in the sky, however; instead, he just stared at it, transfixed.

Torch noted their escort heading down a staircase in the middle of the plaza, in the direction of the Vanguard's command room, leaving them behind. He was debating whether to say anything when he noticed his Guardian was on the move.

The unnamed Guardian walked toward the great white object floating above the City. His eyes were wide and shining, his steps slow and trancelike. He only stopped when he bumped into the railing at the very edge of the Plaza. When he could go no further, he reached a hand up toward it....

"There you are." Torch spun to see someone else had come up the steps, a blue-skinned man in red and white armor, speaking with the same voice that had answered the radio earlier. His bearing was stern, yet approachable, and his attention was fixed on the new Guardian. "Welcome to the--" He abruptly cut himself off, his expression morphing into one of moderate surprise.

Torch turned just in time to see his Guardian reach too far and topple over the railing with a startled cry.

He immediately darted out over the edge, but his Guardian fell so fast, and what could he possibly do? Two agonizing seconds later, there was nothing but a bloody spat on the ground.

And there were eyes on him. "What was that?"

Torch spun around. "He...he was staring at the Traveler, Commander. I think he was trying to reach for it?"

Commander Zavala looked up at the Traveler meditatively. "...Bring him back, Ghost. We have a lot of work to do."

[appiecorps]

Electric Woman

"I had a short go at being an electrician's apprentice, but I kept blowing things up, so I got dumped."

— George Harrison

She reads the book slowly, hoping to retain the nonsense her teacher deems "literature". The artist, a dead white man, couldn't be anymore boring. She's tried everything since sitting down with the book: a cigarette, background music, a cup of tea. None of it helps maintain her focus. Not even the college application that sits on the desk before her.

Her eyes return back and back again to look at the daunting piece of paper. It's due soon, as Hana's mother keeps reminding her. As if Hana needed reminding. The application constantly draws her attention because it terrifies her. It has the power to shape her future.

With a huff, she slams the book shut and tosses it onto the desk. Who needs Hemmingway? Let him collect dust on her bookshelf for the rest of the year.

Leaning back in her chair, she reaches for her turn table and turns the volume up. Her latest jazz record echos throughout the room and through the open window. It's then that she notices a figure approach the door on the floor below. She sees a flash of dark hair and a bag slung over his shoulder before he's out of sight.

And then she hears his knocking.

Tossing the butt of her cigarette into the bin, Hana gladly hops up from her seat, welcoming her newest distraction. The rest of the house is quiet as she hops down the stairs; it's usually so on the weekends, with her mother away at work.

She reaches for the door and throws it open, already expecting who to see on the other side. She's met with the dark hair she glimpsed from the window, and dark eyes peering at her under a pair of thick eyebrows. Her first thought is this is certainly not what she had expected.

He's not that cute, she instantly tells herself. It's an important reminder, considering how quickly and easily she develops crushes. His lips pull back in a crooked smile and she feels herself overheating.

Boy crazy, her mother calls her. Quite the fair insult. Not as mean as some of the others.

"You're the electrician?" she asks, leaning against the door. It's hard to believe; he has the looks of a schoolboy.

"Apprentice electrician, actually," he corrects her. He smiles, displaying a wide set of gleaming teeth.

"Alright." Hana shrugs and steps to the side, inviting him in. Nodding his head, he swiftly crossed the threshold into the house, adjusting the bag hanging over his shoulders. She feels a bit awkward as she leads him to the kitchen, unsure whether she should start conversation or leave him be.

She figures it's only polite conversation; it can't hurt, right?

"Do they send you off on your own often, then?" she asks, seating herself at the kitchen table. Without prompting, George makes his way to the fridge and begins to inspect the faulty wiring in the back.

"Not exactly," he mumbles, brow furrowing as he concentrates. "I'm not technically on the job, you see. Me mum volunteered me for this gig."

She smiles at that and he catches it as he looks back over at her. There's a question of his own sitting right at the tip of his tongue, and she sees him debating whether he should go through with it or not.

"So," he starts casually, digging through his bag. "What parts are you from?" It's a very carefully worded question. She knows what he's asking.

"Mum and I moved from London a few years back." It's the truth but her tone is deadpan.

"London, eh?" he wiggles his way further into the space between the fridge and the wall. "So that's why you're dressed like one of them Teddy Girls, eh?"

"What?" she snaps. She wonders what would make him say that, and she crosses her arms defensively. "I'm not a teddy girl."

"You smell like one." He peers back out at her, the corners of his dark eyes crinkling with laughter. "Mind if I bum a ciggy?"

Hana instinctively sniffs the air, wondering if she truly smelled so strongly of cigarettes. She always made sure to smoke by an open window for just the reason.

"You're a horrible electrician," she finally says, ignoring his question completely.

"So I'm told," he replies in good humor. He's still tinkering with the wiring when she hears him call out, "It's a shame, really. There's not too many around, these days. Teddy girls, I mean. They've all been replaced with artists and poets."

"What's so wrong with that?"

"Nothing, I suppose." He's silent for a moment before she hears him tentatively ask, "Is that what you are then? A poet?"

"No, no... I'm far too lousy with rhymes." She grimaces and picks at her nails, a horrible habit that she's recently picked up. One of the many.

"Well, that's alright," the boy gently says.

They fall into silence and Hana leaves him to his work. It doesn't take long for him to fix the faulty fridge, yet the time seems to drag on. Hana wants to hear him speak again, she wants another look at him. When he finally reappears from behind the fridge, it's to open the door and take a look inside. The hair at the nape of his neck is quite charming, she decides. So is his rolled up sleeves, collected right above his elbows. Shaking her head, she retreats back into the living room; as much as she would like to, she won't stare at him while he's innocently trying to work.

She occupies herself by watching the telly. It's some variety show, with entertainer's and comedians, but she's hardly interested. There's nothing wrong with mainstream music, she thinks, but none of it manages to capture her like Jack Kerouac or Allen Ginsberg do.

"All done," she hears the boy say as he enters the room. His bag is slung back over his shoulder and he gives her another wide smile. "Everything should work fine now. If it doesn't I'm sure me mum will let me know."

"Yes," she says, looking up at him from the couch, "how is that?"

Adjusting the bag on his shoulder, he suddenly seems sheepish. "Turns out our mums are good pals. Strange that we've never run into each other before, eh?"

His eyes follow her closely as she stands up and slips her fingers into the back pocket of her trousers.

"Suppose we just run in different circles," she says with a shrug, pulling out the boy's payment. "Thanks anyways, er..." she stumbles, realizing that she still doesn't know his name.

"Ah right, George at your service."

"Hana."

They meet together at the door and Hana wracks her brain for something to say, anything that will make the moment a little less awkward. Without a second thought, she thrusts the money towards him. "Here you are."

"Ta," he says kindly, accepting it and stepping out of the house.

"Bye, George."

Another smile and a last wave before he says, "Goodbye!" He turns to walk away and Hana gently closes the door behind him.

    . . .

    A few weeks pass and Hana has almost forgotten about the cute electrician boy that came by to fix her fridge. He was simply a missed opportunity until one night she finds him playing the guitar at a local club. George plays with a band, and bounces in time with the music as he strums along. He looks incredibly happy, carefree, young.

She waits for him to look in her direction, recognize her, call her over. But George never does.

    . . .

    When Hana walks into her house after school, the last person she expects to see the George the Electrician and Apparent Musician. But there he is, sitting on the couch with a plate of biscuits. The same bag he carried last time rests on the floor by his feet.

"George?" she asks in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

His eyes turn to her, wide and dark. His cheeks are full with snacks, crumbs caught on the corner of his lips. Swallowing thickly, he replies, "Your mum asked me to take a look at some lights. And then she offered me these biscuits! They're quite good, here." He holds the plate out to her.

Walking slowly towards George, she accepts the plate a takes a biscuit. It's warm and the cinnamon smells lovely. Her mum was always a great baker.

"Where is she then?" she asks before taking a small nibble.

"Oh," he says, blinking slowly as if he's forgotten the conversation. He quickly turns away, focuses back on the last cookie in his hand and mumbles, "she popped out for a mo.' Said she was grabbing more."

"I saw you perform," Hana says suddenly. George turns his wide eyes back on her, so she continues, "at the coffee house last weekend."

"You could have said hello."

"I didn't get the chance. But I wanted to say that you were quite good."

"You think so, eh?"

"But I thought you were an electrician."

"Apprentice electrician," he slyly corrects. "We're playing again on Saturday if you'd like to see us again. I'd like you to."

She doesn't get the chance to reply before her mother walks in. "Oh, you're home," she says in surprise. She hurries over to kiss Hana's cheek. "How was school, dear?" Hana looks at George over her mom's shoulder and hopes that eyes speak for her.

    . . .

    She can't help her surprise when she sees George's chosen look for the evening. His neat hair is tussled and pushed back off of his forehead. He wears a pair of high waisted trousers (his hips were just made for those), along with a leather jacket over his shirt. This is not the same schoolboy she first met. This is the guitarist she saw on stage.

"I didn't take you for a Teddy Boy," she teases, remembering his remarks from their very first conversation.

He looks away shyly before looking back down at her. "I'm not really."

"You certainly look the part."

George chooses to ignore her and leans down, instinctively drawing closer to her to ask, "Come dance with me."

    . . .

    George finds the look on her face quite charming. Hana appears to be embarrassed. The poor dear is worried about dancing.

"Come ed'," he says gently, tugging her closer. She follows the lead, and together the dance  along with the rest.

    . . .

    George leaves her for a moment to meet up with the other members of his group. She finds them, tucked away in the corner of the club, hears their raucous laughter.

"George Harrison," one of his mates say, "what would your mother say if she knew you were running around with a girl like her?"

"You're not funny, Lennon," George snaps.

"Well she's a slag, isn't she." It's not a question. Clearly Lennon is aware of her reputation known among the lads of Liverpool. Hana feels herself grow warm, and her face flushes. It's humiliating and scary and she doesn't know what else to do but flee.

George is at her heel as soon as she hits the streets. He must have seen her, she thinks. Or perhaps he simply grew tired of Lennon's remarks and had come to look for her. Either way, she can't bare to face him.

"Leaving already, luv?" he calls out.

    . . .

    George tries his best to sound nonchalant, he really does. But his heart is pounding in his chest and he hopes that she didn't hear any of the horrible things that John said inside. But he looks at her and sees her eyes glistening and oh god she's upset -

He's gonna absolutely murder John.

    . . .

    "Ignore John. He's a tosser."

Hana scoffs. "He only said what everyone thinks. I hear the things they say about me, George." They're not entirely wrong, either. But what does she care? It's not as if she has any intention of staying in godforsaken Liverpool. They can all say what they like; she'll be gone as soon as she can. She can be whoever she wants to be.

"Not everyone thinks that," he tells her. "I don't think that." He steps closer, like he had when they were dancing, and brushes his fingers against her arm. It's as close as he dares to get. When she doesn't respond, he asks, "Is it true you're going back to London?" Outside it's quiet, calm; it's their first chance at an actual conversation.

They both think this is good. It's nice. Sweet. Warm, with their bodies so close together.

"How do you know that?" she asks. It's a marvel she can concentrate on talking. She feels like she's in a dream and it might be the alcohol or George's warm eyes, but she can lose herself in him.

There's not much light, just the flickering of the street lamp, but she thinks she sees his cheeks begin to color. "I might have asked around," he admits sheepishly, cheeks dimpling as he smiles. The confession moves her.

"Why would you do that?" she asks with a laugh.

"Because I like you." It's so simple the way he says it. It shouldn't surprise her after the evening they've spent together. Actually, it should be expected. And yet, her lips part, her heart stutters. Her fingers brush against his, her pinkie hooking around his. The pads of his fingers are roughed, calloused from years of guitar playing. Hana doesn't mind.

"Those are big words," she whispers.

"I mean them."

"Just like the others did." It's meant to be a joke but it falls flat. George looks away and huffs in irritation. It's too late to take it back.

"I don't want to talk about others, Hana," he says. "I don't care about them and neither should you. Come back in with me."

"Nobody will take you seriously." This time, it's not a joke. No, this time she says it and means every word, feels her heart sinking as she says it.

But George doesn't hesitate. "I don't care."

She's tempted. After being so close to him, she can't bring herself to move away. But the thought of going back inside, back to their jeering and sneers... it's not worth it. So, she shakes her head.

"I don't want to go back in," she says firmly.

George nods, but doesn't let go of her hands. "Then we'll leave."

The sky above them is black, hardly any stars in the sky. It's cold and their breath is visible when they speak. Inside there is warmth and laughter and friends. But George has no interest in leaving her side. This is where he wants to be. Under the sky, invigorated by the chill and her touch.

"Okay," Hana whispers. Together, they walk away.