#But they were likely all military brats. And at least one of them entered active service. So it's very possible

[technofinch]

mulligan ancestral curse? i'm dying to know more omg!!

Well, tumblr user cainsign, i have excellent news for you

His father, at least, wholeheartedly believes that his paternal bloodline is cursed such that if a family has two sons they're destined to kill each other. It's usually an accident. It's also probably just coincidence and catholic superstition. Still. When his first child turned out to be a son, he refused to have any more. Just in case.

[liddolwhynot2000]

Falling

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Summary: Cause Levi can't help falling in love with you.

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Pairing: Levi Ackerman X Reader

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Levi sat on a log, elbows on his knees and hands clasped together, staring at nothing in particular. The sun was setting, but he hardly cared to watch it, too lost in thought.

When Kenny had taken him under his wing all those years ago, he had taught Levi plenty of things. How to use a knife, how to make ‘friends’. Some lessons he preferred to forget, while others he latched on to as a way of life. There was one lesson in particular that he would spend the rest of his life following, almost religiously.

Violence is always the answer.

Hungry? Threaten someone into giving you food. Being held at gun point? Kick the crap out of them. Not getting the answers you want? Torture. Rip out their nails. Break their back.

That was the guideline for surviving in the underground. Dominate everyone using brute force. Make a reputation so fierce that only senseless morons would challenge you. Admittedly, it had worked well for him. He had become the top dog in that dreary, dark hell. Able to eat three times a day, wear decent clothes. He, Farlan and Isabel had survived well for a good amount of time. That is, until they had their first taste of sunlight.

In hindsight, taking that mission had been a foolish mistake. He had lost his cherished friends, and while he now got along with his cormades, it just wasn’t the same. Other parts of his life, however, continued to remain as before.

The surface may have lacked the unhinged lawlessness of the underground, but Levi still utilized his usual methods of living, albeit more legally.

In his years in the military, he had used his superior physical strength to instill fear and discipline. Cadets, high ranking members of the military, even the Queen often cowered before him in fear. Any other man would enjoy the thrill of it, reducing the most powerful people in his country into meek versions of themselves, unable to properly look him in the eye.

And he did. A part of him would always be smug about it, solely because underground filth like him, who had been expected to waste away his life, had managed to climb to a position at the top that no else held.

But it was tiring now. He had become so.. lonely. Everyone he had let into his heart left him. His sweet mother, crazy Kenny, his siblings in all but blood, Farlan and Isabel. Here he was, surprisingly wealthy and popular, but missing his precious people.

Alas, he would never let someone in like that again. The rest of his life was destined to be spent alone, threatening everyone in hearing range and dying on the battlefield. And, with a sigh, he accepted this miserable fate.

What he didn’t know was that meeting you would lead to him burning down his self established fate to ashes and dust, with his very own hands.

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Why you had even thought about approaching him was incredulous, Levi mused to himself. An exhausted soldier sitting in the dark of a room, staring mindlessly at the table. He had showed no expression on his face but still, normal people would have been scared off just at the sight of him. You weren’t, and that’s how the two of you met.

You had made him some nice herbal tea and brought it to him. Giving him some plain biscuits along with the beverage. He had eyed you suspiciously, not willing to entertain you with even a thank you. Your intentions had been unclear to him at the time.

What was a beautiful woman like you, even Levi privately admitted to double taking at the sight of you, doing offering tea to him of all people. Kindness didn’t exist in people, he had never seen it in anyone besides his mother and Isabel. So you probably had a hidden motive. Maybe you needed a favour? Or were trying to integrate yourself in with the higher ups for better pay? Or maybe one of those dumb admirers that thought they could change him?

Once you left, after giving him another smile and telling him you hoped he would enjoy the tea, he decided to dismiss all thoughts of you. He wouldn’t help you with shit.

He did enjoy the tea though.

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For the next two months, he began seeing you everyday. Not by choice, he told himself. He had accidentally made it a habit to sit in that room, all by himself, everyday, at the exact same time.

And everyday, without fail, you would bring him tea and biscuits. Sometimes there was a cake slice, or cookies, or even a nice meal, like rice with boiled vegetables.

He learned about you in that time. Your name, for one, which sounded oddly pleasing on his tongue. You were a garrison cook, tasked with making meals for the garrison engineers, whose office had been established right next to the Survey Corps headquarters. It explained why he kept seeing you everyday. A part of him had been strangley thrilled to hear that, as if the idea of seeing you everyday was something he actually wanted.

You never flinched around him or stuck around to talk to him for too long. Bringing him his tea with that sweet smile, asking about his day, wishing him well. You never made a face or took his obvious reluctance to talk to heart. His short answers and grunts, his crass language, they all had no effect on you. It was clear you really wanted nothing from him. No favours, no urge to get close. You were just being… kind.

And as someone who had hardly experienced genuine kindness in his life, he would let you continue. Besides, it was the first time someone was behaving around him without Levi having to force them. It was too refreshing for him to stop.

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Levi eyed the tray in front of him warily. There was a cup of steaming tea, some sugar cubes he could add, a few biscuits and two sandwiches. He hadn’t touched it yet, even though he knew it would taste amazing, much like everything else you made. But he was rather preoccupied, unable to make sense of what he was feeling.

You hadn’t showed up today. He had waited, expecting that knock on the door, your light footsteps as you entered the room, your cheery voice to greet him. Instead, it had been another cook. Levi had scowled as the girl had blushed and stuttered around him, putting the tray on the table, not quite able to talk to him, or look him in the eye.

‘C-captain I was told to give this to you-’

His irritation had shot up through the roof and with his usual impatience, he snarled at the girl, asking for your whereabouts. Initially, he got no solid response out of her, because she didn’t know. But in the end, as she made to leave, terrified beyond belief of him, she said something that had his heart inexplicably stopping.

‘Sh-she might be o-on a date. That’s why- why she didn’t bring it today. I think’

Now here he was, eyeing the delicious spread infront of him. Except he didn’t have much of an appetite. His mind was jumbled up, unable to comprehend why he felt so.. Hurt?

Were you actually out on a date right now? Allowing some shitty lowlife to woe you? He felt resentful, unsure of himself. It shouldn’t matter to him. It wouldn’t matter to him. He refused to allow it to.

With a grimace, he put his feelings aside and began eating. He knew better then to waste good food.

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The next day, when you came with the tray, you told him you had gone to visit your cousin who had given birth to a baby girl. The relief he had felt, knowing that you hadn’t been making goofing off with some hormonal piece of shit, had stunned him. He continued to suprise himself, by behaving like he had been possessed. As evidenced by how before you could leave, his hand shot out to grab your wrist and the words escaped his mouth before he could stop them.

‘Oi, stay. Let’s…eat together. ’

Your eyes had widened, no doubt shocked that he actually wanted you around. With a tentative smile, you nodded in agreement, taking the seat next to him. You carried the conversation, with him silently listening and interjecting his own opinion. Somehow, he had even managed to make you giggle, causing a warmth to spread in his chest. Before the two of you knew it, the tray had been emptied of its contents, yet neither of you made to leave for at least an hour more.

Later, while sitting in his chair, preparing to sleep, Levi thought back to when he had held your wrist. He marvelled at how soft and delicate you had felt in his grasp, wondering what it would feel like to have those arms hold him. Would you feel just as soft, pressed up against him? He could tell you would be gentle, he knew you possessed no mean or rough bone in your body.

Fantasising about you, and yearning to feel more of you, he drifted off to sleep.

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He hated being on sick leave. Abhorred it. He felt useless, couldn’t do shit. Yet here he was, on a one month leave and it was all becuase of his dumbass titan brat.

Eren had been practicing hardening in his titan form, but had positioned himself wrong. He had gotten out of the crystal carcass too soon, and the damn thing had toppled over the entire crowd of soldiers standing near by. Which included him. Most had made a get away with their gear, but Erwin, having only one arm, hadn’t been fast enough. Leading to Levi having to save him in the nick of time. And fracturing his left arm and spraining his right leg.

The doctor had banned him from strenuous activity and had made it clear that he would have to spend at least a month taking it extremely easy. His Ackerman bloodline meant that, unlike other normal people, he would be completely okay within a month.

That hadn’t been enough to stop Levi from grumbing or threatening Erwin or calling the doctor an old hag. Once his fury had partially subsdided, he grudgingly accepted that he needed the rest.

He had thought of going to live at the modest house he owned, which was near headquarters. It had been a gift from the Queen, for his part in taking down Zeke Yeager. The new beast titan shifter had gained all his memories and had been instrumental in them winning the war against Marley. Last he checked, Connie had been appointed to the Northern branch, his power better utilised there in case of attacks from behind.

Erwin hadn’t allowed him to leave, insisting he had no one to take care of him and that he would probably start doing push ups after resting for a day. Which was true. Damn that bastard for knowing him so well.

So here he was, stuck in his room, waiting on the annoying brats to give him food three times a day. There was a knock on the door, probably a soldier with his breakfast, having no idea they were about to be on the recieving end of his ire. And God help Eren if he was dumb enough to be standing out that door. He called them in, only to freeze at the sight.

There you stood, that precious smile on your face, holding a tray of food in one hand and a basket. He couldn’t care less about anything else, all he could focus on was the fact that you were standing infront of him. He felt enchanted, he hadn’t seen you the entire week he had been forced to spend at the hospital.

I missed her, Levi realized.

‘Good Morning Levi!…’

You began chattering, asking for his well being, handing him the tray of food. You had brought him a care package full of goodies, which included lemon cookies, his favorite flavour.

‘Why are you here?’

The question had been asked with his usual bland tone, but there was an emotion behind it only he could identify. There was an excitement welling up in him, as though he knew the answer already.

When you told him you had heard about his injury and had wanted to visit him, he had felt pleased and touched. When you continued on and told him that you had offered Erwin to personally take care of him with your usual duties, so that all the other soldiers wouldn’t have to divide the work between them, Levi was stunned.

’.. Since we’re friends, I figured this way I could help you out and.. ’

Levi took a sip of his broth, which tasted far better then the stale soup the kitchen usually served, watching you move around his room. Anyone else would have been physically hauled and thrown out the window by now, doctors orders be damned. Yet he felt okay with you neatly folding his blanket, straightening out things that he hadn’t been able to because of his injury, comfortably taking charge of his room.

For a brief moment, he saw a vision of you taking care of him like this in his house, as his wife.

As you sat before him, drawing him into conversation, Levi decided that having the month off wasn’t going to be as miserable as thought it would be.

And he was right.

Seeing you three times a day, enjoying meals with you, you fussing over him because you caught him doing pull ups, your bell like laughter that rang in his ears long after you went back to work, it all made him feel more then he could ever define.

Remembering you bandaging his arms everyday, your hands gentle, expression sympathetic as you shyly avoided staring at his bare, muscular chest, Levi decided he would have to acknowledge what he was feeling after all.

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Love.

He was in love with you.

Levi leaned into his chair, setting down the pen had had been writing with. The realization had struck him suddenly and he needed to process it. He had never felt so alive, so amazed.

It had been a year of knowing you, and without even trying, you had made him fall in love with your very existence.

He cherished any moment of time he could spend with you, and you often haunted his thoughts when he couldn’t see you. You were the one he wanted to see first after getting back from a mission, becuase he knew if anyone gave a fuck about him being alive, it was you.

Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to smile, remembering how you had hugged him that one time. He had seen you straight after a deadly battle, covered in blood and small wounds. You had been so concerned, grabbing him by the hand, dragging him to his room.

He recalled how you had been applying alcohol on the injury at the corner of his mouth, causing him to hiss in pain. Frowning, you had applied it more carefully, then brought your mouth closer and lightly blowed air on the wound to reduce the sting. You had either been too caught up in worrying about him or had pretended not to notice, but his eyes had defintiely darkened at having you in such close proximity. Your lips only inches away from his, a hand resting on his shoulder, it had been an effort to not tug on your wrist and seat you in his lap and starting something he had been craving to. Once you had finished helping him and had decided he was in better condition, you had hugged him, a moment he could never forget.

You were shorter then him, so your head rested on his chest as your arms wrapped wrapped around his back. His arms had a mind of their own, immediately taking the oppurtunity to rest on the small of your waist.

Breathing in your scent, burying his nose in your hair, he had savoured the moment. When you pulled away from him, he had frowned, not liking the tears welling up in your eyes.

‘N-never be so reckless again! I got so worried and..’

You had buried yourself in his arms again, silently crying, berating him for being so careless. Your soft form had been pressed against his rough stature, he had never had someone be so gentle with him, care about him this much.

Back in the underground, doctors often had to be threatened into treating him. He had always used force, but there was no need to use any on you. There never had been. And hopefully, there never would be.

Knock knock

Startled, he snapped out of his day dreaming, chuckling to himself. To think he had gotten so lost in his memories with you..you really had become his everything

Expression neutral, he regained himself and called the soldier in.

Now, if only he could somehow tell you.

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A/N: I hope y’all enjoyed this! Maybe I should do a part 2? For the confession? Does anyone want that? Constructive criticism is always welcome. My asks are open so pls send requests. Till next time!

[trashboatprince]

So, @thedobermutt and I did a collab fanfic together through a mini rp for the space pirate au we’re doing with Spottie, Hunter, and Gru.

Here’s how her Henry and mine (Hugo) first met years ago in the au.

Heads up: Hugo is a half-breed alien and human, Henry is all human, Bendy is a celestial demon from deep in space, and Joey is an ancient disaster man. Also, there is fighting and two moments of blood and injury, one worse than the other, but it’s not fully described, mainly implied.

On with the fic!

--

Hugo grinned as he sat on the pristine, white wall that was around the training grounds for Joey Drew's future dogs, or cannon fodder, take your pick. 

No one seemed to have noticed the oddly dressed teenager from where he sat, perfect, that makes his mission so much easier! After finally getting his own ship, the new captain decided that he and his best friend, Bendy, needed to make a name for themselves. 

And to do that, they had to do a big thing, something that everyone will know about across the galaxy! And their best idea was to kill Joey Drew, probably the most well-known man of the galactic military forces. 

The Mutt and the Ink Demon were going to make a perfect name for themselves by stealing from him and maybe even taking him down! As he jumped off the wall and entered the ground, he never noticed that someone had spotted him. 

Joey Drew, the man himself, raised an eyebrow as he spotted the young pirate from his office window. "Well, it seems we have an intruder." He said with a hint of amusement in his voice to the other young man in the room with him. 

Joey just chuckled to himself, amused, as he stared out the window. As if this young pirate would sneak past a divine being like him. 

But he played it cool, lest his human trainee caught onto him. Joey turned to said young boy, who had been shadowing his commanding officer for the day, learning the ropes. 

Henry just offered Joey a look, unsure what had brought about his sudden change in behavior. Joey turned to said young boy, who had been shadowing his commanding officer for the day, learning the ropes. Henry just offered Joey a look, unsure what had brought about his sudden change in behavior. 

“Sir? Is everything alright?” Henry asked. 

“Yes, of course,” Joey answered, before turning from the window to face the teen. “Seems like you’re in for some excitement today, Henry. Follow me.” 

Henry stood from his seat and followed the tall man out of his office and towards the court yard. There, in the distance, he saw an oddly dressed man, one who looked not much older than him. Henry was puzzled by this, but followed Joey nonetheless. 

“I think that’s far enough, pirate, don’t you?” Joey bellowed out to the intruder, amused by his startled reaction. 

The half-human nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden voice, turning sharply to see the one and only Joey Drew near the entrance to the building, looking too amused for his own good. 

Hugo also took notice to someone standing behind him, was that a human? Weird, was he a servant? No, he was in uniform, wow, they allowed humans here? Probably to go out and die in battle first. 

"Nah, I don't think so, I think I'm a little too far." Hugo smirked as he reached for the metallic tool behind his back. "Allow me to come closer to meet the one and only Drew!" 

"If I were you, I'd stay away." Joey replied, adjusting the glasses on his face. "You do know where you are, yes? Clearly you do, since you decided to be like the big shot pirates out in the stars who all think they can take a crack at me for five minutes of fame. Ah, a wonderful dream, but that's all it is, a dream."

Hugo snorted loudly, rolling his eyes. "You talk too much. Here, let me help ya with that!" He moved forward, pulling his axe from behind himself, the glowing blade appearing with the click of a button. 

Henry wasn’t quite sure what was happening. A pirate? He felt his heart pick up speed a little. Suddenly he felt Joey’s hand on his shoulder, grip firm. He turned to look his officer in the eyes, seeing no fear in them, only his own concerned face in the reflection of the man’s glasses. 

“This one is all yours, Henry,” Joey told him. “Restrain this idiotic pirate, would you? Show me what kind of man you are, Ranger.” 

Henry turned to the advancing man, pulling out his own weapon, a standard Ranger sword, activating the blade. He strode forward with confidence, hiding his nerves well. He wasn’t sure how much experience this pirate had, but he was about to find out. 

This man looked somewhat human, so perhaps the odds were in his favor, for a fair fight if nothing else. He had trained hard for the last two years to get here, he wasn’t about to back down now. 

“I think that’s enough,” Henry told the man. “If you know what’s good for you you’ll stop with whatever nonsense you have planned here.” 

He wanted to talk the man down from making a brash move, a mistake that he’d regret. That was the Ranger way, negotiation. But if it came down to it, they were ready for a fight. So, Henry held his ground, battle-ready stance.

Hugo was a little disappointed that Joey sent out the soldier, what a coward, but at least this gives him a chance to try his hand at fighting against a ranger! He couldn't remember ever fighting one before! 

"I'd rather not stop, kid! I'm here to make my name known and your boss is gonna make that happen!" He laughed as he approached Henry, swinging his axe blade, only for his attack to be blocked by the other teenager. 

Oh great, he had great reflexes, or Hugo gave him too much of an opening to block, he needed to tone back his cockiness. He looked at the ranger, glowering at him with odd eyes, seeing the look on the stranger's face. "Tsk, you look like you're gonna be such a stick in the mud when you get older, brat." 

"Well, we can at least agree on something, pirate." Joey spoke in the background, greatly amused by the start of this fight. Let's see if the human could take on the mutt, that'll make for a interesting couple of minutes. 

Henry just grunted as he pushed the man’s axe away with his sword, getting into position to fight once more. He decided it best to ignore the jabs at him, from both this man and his officer. Looks like this pirate really was looking for a fight after all. Best to just subdue him, no need for anything drastic here, he thought to himself. 

The man presented to be...cocky, perhaps? Or maybe just confident that with enough wide swings like that he’d land a hit eventually. Henry was careful in his every move, making sure to leave enough space as not to get knocked around by the heavy axe. 

He parried and dodged and swung. The man was quite good, albeit a little reckless. Henry noted that some of his moves were harder to dodge. A few close calls here and there.

“That’s the spirit, Henry,” Joey called out again. “Not bad for a rookie.” 

"Rookie?" Hugo chuckled as he tried to take another swing, only to move back to avoid losing the tip of his nose. "No wonder you're so young! Is the military allowin' ten year olds to fight for 'em?" 

He quickly avoided another attack, noting that it was meant to hit his hand. Oh? Was this kid trying to make him drop his axe? 

Clever, Hugo had to give him that! Actually, this guy wasn't bad with his fighting skills, but that could prove troublesome. Hugo himself wasn't that bad himself, but he had never taken on people with military training before. 

This... might have been a bad idea, shoot, he wish Bendy had told him no, but that demon was always looking for a fun chance to cause trouble..! He gasped when he felt the hilt of the sword hit him in the stomach, causing the former cabin boy to lose his balance.

Dirty move, got him when he was distracted! 

Henry pointed the sword towards him once more, a gesture meant to offer the man another chance to rethink his actions. As expected, the young man swatted the sword away with his axe. Henry should have expected as much. This guy seemed to be out to prove something. 

So far things seemed evenly matched. This man was unpredictable most of the time, but his wide swings told Henry this man was still learning how to properly control his own weapon. Perhaps in time he would. Such potential, seemed a shame to waste it on pirating. 

Another moment of the man’s unpredictability came into play. Henry heard the man give a hefty grunt and swing his axe forcefully. Henry wasn’t fully prepared, the strike knocking him off balance. He managed to get a bit of space between them, but not before feeling the blade catch the right side of his face near his jaw.

Henry let out a sharp hiss and reached up to the wound, feeling the blood on his face. There would be time to worry about that later, he had to remain focused. Though, he swore he could hear Joey snicker in the background. 

Hugo seemed to freeze up for a second, seeing that he had actually wounded the ranger-in-training. 

Oh, uh, he didn't think he'd get an actual hit like that on him, if anything, he just wanted to knock the brat out! Great, he was gonna hear this from Bendy later, he could just hear it now 'don't attack kids! Sometimes they can be annoyin' but they ain't yer biggest problem!' 

"Just back down, dog." The pirate huffed, feeling a little winded from the fight. "You're better off leavin' me to fight your master." 

There was a loud, sharp laugh from Joey and Hugo looked over at him. "You really think he's going to back off? Please, it's part of his training to keep fighting. And even if he did, what makes you think you could do me any damage, half-breed?" 

This served to burn Hugo's nerves as he moved away from his current opponent and started to charge towards Joey. "Don't call me that! Fight me like a man, don't hide behind rookies!" 

“You gonna just insult me and walk out on our fight?” Henry asked as he stepped in front of the pirate. His sword was back in position, ready to strike again. 

Since the moment he arrived at the academy he had heard nothing but insults. “You’re just a human, a runt. Ain’t you too young to be a Ranger, kid? You’ll never make it, little human boy.” He aimed to prove them wrong. 

He ignored Joey’s amused cackling in the background. He had the man in front of him to focus on, now that he seemed to catch his attention again.He kept fighting, but he could tell the pirate was distracted by what Joey had said. Perhaps too distracted. Might serve Henry well to help subdue him, if he could just get that axe out of his hands. He saw his chance, thrusting his sword forward once more. 

And, with horror, he realized too late that the man had decided to move at the last second. 

Uhg! The brat wanted to keep fighting, so Hugo decided to humor him and did his best to avoid his swings and try to strike back. This was annoying, he came here to take down Joey Drew and that's what he was going to do! 

Until he made a false move, a wrong step. 

It had been a simple mistake, Hugo had moved to do a low swing, wanting to just hit this guy in the stomach with the blunt end of his axe. 

But instead, he found himself frozen in place, half-blind. 

Oh, it didn't take him more than a second or two to realize what had just happened, that he had the end of the other's sword embedded in his right eye. He could feel his blood on his face, seeing it run bright green down the blade of the sword. Then he looked at the pure horror of the other boy's face. 

"... Ch-cheap trick, kid..." He wheezed out just as the pain finally kicked into overdrive. 

Henry went very still in shock. His body was shaking, his breaths leaving in shallow pants. What had he done? What had he done?! This isn’t what he wanted at all. 

He only meant to remove the axe from his hand, not stab him in the eye.He wasn’t sure what to do now. He didn’t want to yank the sword out and pull out the eye. But, sure enough, that’s exactly what Joey began barking at him to do. 

“Just remove your sword already, Henry,” Joey told him. Henry did as he was told, backing away from the man in horror. No, no, no. Not this. Why this? He could do nothing else besides stare at the man as he cried out in pain. He was too shocked. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry, so sorry,” Henry whispered over and over. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Joey called out again. “Restrain him already. Let’s get this over with, Ross.” 

"Don't p-pull it out, please..." Hugo whispered back, just as freaked out as the other. 

This was a mistake, this was a huge mistake! M-maybe Bendy could fix this! Bendy could do all sorts of things, maybe he could fix something like this! 

Joey was growing impatient, the human boy was too much of a coward to do a simple task. How was he going to survive in battle if he couldn't even do this!? He approached, grabbing at Henry's arm, and pulled it back. 

Hugo screamed in pain as he felt the sword pull out, along with something else. He collapsed on the ground, crying out in pain as he clutched his face. 

"Someone help me! I'm blind!" This was pathetic, but Hugo didn't care! He was in so much pain, and losing a lot of blood, how deep was the wound!?

“J-Joey, we have to get him medical attention,” Henry told him. “Please!” 

“Henry, calm down, it’s just a pirate,” Joey sneered. 

“It doesn’t matter, sir,” Henry told him, standing in front of Hugo some to keep Joey away from the man. “It’s a Ranger’s job to help and protect, even our wounded prisoners.” 

“Oh, Ross, you are naive about the universe, aren’t you?” Joey chuckled. “You’ll learn. This was a good first lesson. Fine, finish restraining him then. I’ll let you finish what you started here.” 

And with that, Joey backed away, smug look still present. Henry turned back to the wounded man. He started to bend down to check on him, see if he could stop the bleeding. Fool is going to get himself killed like that. Too trusting, Joey thought as he watched on. 

Hugo looked up at Henry with his good eye, trying to get away from him. "S-Stay away...! You can't take the other one..!" He shoved at the ranger, smearing blood on him as he weakly tried to get the guy to back off. 

He rolled onto his stomach, trying to get away, only to hear a horrible, familiar screech. It was like an animal screaming mixed with metal on glass. 

Bendy was aware, Bendy knew that something had happened, and these two were in for a world of trouble. It didn't take more than a moment for something to come busting out of a wall around the training grounds, making an obvious entrance as the demonic being roared in rage, slamming a large, double-holed hand on the ground.

Joey straightened up at the sudden entrance of the demon. A demon? How did I not notice it? Joey remained calm, simply watching the creature as it entered the room. Looks like he had someone else to keep an eye on. 

Henry turned towards the screeching sound, eyes wide with panic. Was this thing with the pirate? This didn’t look good, Henry noted, seeing himself covered in some of the man’s green blood. 

He picked up his sword, just in case, holding out a pleading hand towards the monster. 

The demon growled lightly as it seemed to sniff the air before turning its attention towards the group. The growl turned into a snarl as it started to charge towards them at a pretty fast speed for something running on only its hands. 

It stopped right in front of Henry, completely avoiding Joey, as if he wasn't there. It leaned in, sniffing the blood on him, before it roared, shoving him aside to get to Hugo. 

"B-Ben..." Hugo tried to get up, still in a state of shock. The demon, Bendy, let out a soft growl and picked him up with one hand, being careful, before turning his attention back to Henry, looking ready to kill. 

This stranger smelled like Hugo's blood, he was a threat! He hurt his father, how dare he!? 

Henry took a little longer to recover, still in shock, after being roughly thrown aside by the demon. He managed to get himself up enough to turn and face the snarling beast, who was a little too close for his comfort. 

He was panicked, his heart threatening to leap out of his chest. He backed up a little, not daring to stand and provoke the creature. He held his hands up again. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” was all he could continue to whisper. 

Be a Ranger, you coward. Henry inhaled deeply and tried his best to regain his composure. He was unsure what to do now. And Joey...Joey didn’t seem to find any urgency in this situation. Is he going to let me die? 

Joey looked more annoyed than anything else. What was a child, no, infant demon doing here? Wait a second, was this that little punk of a devil that the Butcher Gang had told him about? The one their cabin boy had taken aboard a few years back? 

... Well, this makes things interesting, so this pirate was that cabin boy then? 

Might be fun if they spare him for a bit, but he had to get rid of that demon, get him out of here before he killed Henry. Well, might be fun to play a little 'prank' on him, teach this upstart that he's not the only demon in the area. 

Unnoticed by the other three, his shadow moved, slipping along the ground, grabbing onto Bendy's wrist. The devil tensed up, feeling an unsettling sense of dread, his inky skin practically crawling! He moved back from Henry's personal space, letting out a nervous growl. 

"Bendy..." Hugo groaned, he was so lightheaded right now. "Come on, let's go." 

Bendy looked unsure, but turn his attention to Henry once more, baring his teeth at him, before rushing towards a wall, seeming to vanish through it, leaving a black stain on the stone. 

Henry panted heavily as he watched the whole scene. He wasn’t sure what had just happened, but he couldn’t be more relieved that the demon was gone. He was frozen in place now, panic setting in deep. So much had just happened.

“What am I going to do with you, Henry?” Joey asked as he walked towards the boy. “You’re gonna have to toughen up if you want to make it as a Captain. Can’t have you breaking down like this all the time. There will be fights in your career, deal with it.” 

Henry slowly nodded, standing. Not encouraging to hear, but Joey did have a point. He couldn’t go on like this if he let his fear and unease get the better of him. Still, he would be shaken up by this encounter for a while. Perhaps it would always haunt him, but he hoped not. 

“Looks like the foolish pirate boy is free to sail again, hm?” Joey said before placing his hands on Henry’s shoulders. “You did well, Ross. Even got your first scar, eh?” 

Henry reached up towards the cut, forgetting its existence in all the chaos that had happened. 

“Trust me, that one will scar,” Joey assured, seeing the quizzical look on the boy’s face. “You have much to learn yet. Come, let’s get you patched up.” Joey began to walk away back towards one of the buildings, Henry slowly following. He wondered if he would ever see that pirate and his demon again. 

Perhaps next time he would be more prepared for the horrors of battle. He only worried that one day he would be numb to it. He only hoped that day would never come. 

[leoncillo]

Okay, so idk if this is gonna turn into a theory or not I just need to...process things.

Why was Steven able to access Pink's memories?

When I think of the similarities between Steven's other emotional/spiritual reactions to gems, they all had one thing in common: the gems were feeling deep rooted negative emotion. When Lapis was still trapped under the sea with Jasper and fighting with herself and her purpose in the chaos, Steven found her through dreaming. When Steven started crying Blue's tears, Blue was shown to still be mourning. Then, in Jungle Moon, we see that was the exact planet and area Pink Diamond had her breakdown. Surprisingly..well not really, Steven has been able to soothe or eventually get the gems out of their moods. Lapis was freed, Blue finally got her trial, but what about Pink? Steven even helped the Cluster calm down!

Pink Diamond is defective.

She's significantly smaller than the other diamonds. While I was disappointed that she didn't look like what most of the fandom pictured, her characterization makes sense. As the youngest myself, I know what it's like to not feel equal to a sibling. People always say "Oh, someday it'll happen." "You're not ready yet." Yeah she's a brat, but she has reason to be. Gems are born with a purpose. All gems even diamonds. So imagine when you're supposed to be one of the most powerful beings known to your kind and you're born, in the eyes of others, as being less than so. Pink Diamond was supposed to have what they had because that's what she was born for, she knew this, and Homeworld never liked to deviate from roles you were supposed to be. Yet, they did so to her. Her mural making her look a lot stronger and mightier than she was was more than likely for propaganda purposes. So lesser gems didn't know a diamond could be born defective. That a diamond could be imperfect.

Pink and her gems obviously represent the "heart" of the gem civilization.

Gems created under Pink Diamond are fiery, strong, stubborn, and will fight for what they believe in. Noticeably more free...whether they used that freedom for good or bad varied. Think of the quartz soldiers at the Zoo, they acted more like a family than a military unit. Rose and all of her dates with Greg and making Steven, the flowers, strawberry fields, etc. Whereas gems created under the other diamonds seemed to be more accepting that they were just numbers to their diamonds. They were weak willed and did what they were told. Pink Diamond had power. Not through sheer force or size, but her heart. If Jasper, the most famous war hero known to gemkind on Homeworld (?), is any indication, then Pink Diamond's army was a real threat. Not just to organic life on potential colonies, but to the other armies of her sisters.

Do I think one of the diamonds killed her?

Not necessarily. I wouldn't put it past them to have had plans to take her down a notch. They definitely knew what power her gems held since Yellow took Jasper for herself and all the other Rose Quartz were bubbled as a precaution. I don't think they wanted to kill her, though.

Could she have shattered herself?

This theory is what's currently winning in my mind right now. For one, Pink shattered an image of herself in a window. When does the Crewniverse ever do something like that without meaning? Never. Although, the mere fact that her image shattered could've been just general foreshadowing to her downfall, but considering PD did it herself, I'm going with it being herself as the culprit. Also, only a diamond can damage a diamond. So if none of her sisters did, then she's the only other option. How the whole scenario could've went down for their to have been "witnesses" to see her get shattered with a sword, I don't know. Tbh, it doesn't add up at all at this point. So either someone is lying or forgot some very important details.

Why would Pink Diamond want to die?

We've all been there before. We've all idolized something or someone based simply on what we saw on the outside. Only for it to turn out to be a horrible job, title, etc. Take adulthood, for example. When you were a kid, you probably wanted to grow up really quickly. You wanted to get to stay out late, shave, date, drive, what have you. You never considered what else comes with growing up. Tons of emotion and heartbreak, bills, losses, TAXES (jk but not), money to pay for gas to drive that car. I could go on. While I wasn't exactly a perfectly happy child, adulthood still hit me like truck...especially when I tried to enter it too quickly.

Pink was the baby sister. She didn't have a single colony, planet, army,...pearl?... anything. Honestly, did any of the other lesser gems even see her outside of murals until she got a court and entourage? Probably not. So what you have here are all the things to entice someone to want to grow up too quickly. Not treat them as an equal (sometimes you can't in human standards with age, but in gem standards your role was supposed to be absolute), isolate them, and tell them "someday" and "because I said so".

So one or all of the other sisters probably relented and got her a tiny little planet to look after. For all we know, she probably got some fancy limb enhancers to make her a little taller like she's putting on her sister's heels. She got a palaquin and apparently a pearl and entourage. Although something still seems off about that...Did they even give her guards? They should've and you would think they would've, but did they?

Anyway, after a few centuries/millennia on Earth, Pink probably became disenchanted with the whole idea of being a diamond and ruler. She didn't think it'd be that much work or she just wasn't agreeing with Homeworld's mentality. Something happened. Maybe she came to love the planet and the organic life, love her gems as more than just servants (who we've yet to hear say anything bad about her and Big Bad Jasper seemed genuinely distraught just thinking of her). Maybe she didn't want her gems caught up in Homeworld crap and thought they deserved better and deserved to be whatever they wanted to be. However, her colony was creating the best soldiers, you think her sisters would just let her stop?

So maybe Pink decided to secretly fight back and became close with Rose who shared her same views of the world. Correct me if I'm wrong, but Rose was already labeled a criminal before Pink was shattered. Maybe she sent Rose to "rebel" and disrupt gem activity on Earth to not only stop Homeworld from draining Earth but to take a stand. This could've backfired in her face when her sisters truly believed she didn't have a grip on the situation and sent their soldiers to correct the issue.

Pink seeing she effed up and just put her gems and world in danger, probably freaked out. There was probably bickering amongst them Y: "This is why we didn't give you a colony!" B: "You weren't ready!" P: "I don't want to do this anymore! It's wrong!" Her sisters probably wanted to wipe Earth off the map or at least start over with someone else at the helm, but Pink wouldn't risk it. She loved her first and only colony. It was small, but it was hers. She found her OWN place and purpose.

Idk what events would lead up to her shattering herself (and I'm pretty sure her shards are bubbled somewhere ready to be healed). But maybe she did set up a clever scheme to make it look like one of her own did it. The sisters would hesitate if gems from Earth could take out one of their own and back off. Or maybe it wasn't a scheme and she was found on the verge of doing it herself and the gem that found her couldn't stop her in time. She wanted the responsibility not knowing what all it entailed, what all she would feel, the pressure (did I just make a gem joke?), what all she would wanna fight for. She just wanted to be important like them for so long and when she finally found herself but wasn't accepted for it...she couldn't take it anymore.

[razieltwelve]

Defiance (Final Rose)

It was not uncommon to find Empress Averia VII of the Arendelle Empire asleep at her desk in her study. In fact, it had become alarmingly common over the past several months as matters both military and political had begun to consume her attention. Another huge swarm of Grimm was approaching the edges of the galaxy, and despite the obvious threat it presented, both she and Weiss of the Schnee Mercantile Alliance were having difficulties gathering sufficient support.

Apparently, people had forgotten just how dangerous the Grimm could be. So many of them were confident that this swarm could be dealt with using existing military power. However, her Dia-Farron scientists had assured her that the approaching swarm was far large and more powerful than any swarm within the last century or so at the very least.

Naturally, there were those who worried about the empress over exerting herself, but she was the empress. What hope did they have of overruling her authority? After all, she’d posted imperial guards at the doors to her study specifically to deter any such attempts.

Luckily, there was someone with the authority required.

X     X     X

It was not often that the bearer of Saviour, Claire, could be seen striding through the halls of the imperial palace in her full dress uniform. The uniform in question harkened back to the modified uniform that was supposedly worn by Averia Yun-Farron of Remnant during formal occasions. Averia had served as the head of the royal guard, in addition to being the wife and consort of Queen Elsa.

Like many of her Yun-Farron relatives, Claire disliked wearing her dress uniform. It was extravagant and hardly perfect for fighting in. However, it was necessary for moments like these when she wished to throw her figurative weight around. She had been told of the empress’s lack of sleep and rest, and it had reached the point where she felt it necessary to intervene. The empire would not be well served if the empress collapsed performing her duties.

As she strode down the corridor, she was immediately aware of the four imperial guardsmen posted outside the doors of the empress’s study. They had undoubtedly been given orders to dissuade anyone from entering. 

“Stand aside,” Claire ordered.

“We have strict orders to prevent anyone disturbing the empress at this time,” one of the guardsmen replied. “And -”

Claire’s eyes narrowed, and she turned the infamous Farron Death Glare on the guardsman. To his credit, although he was about to throw up from terror, he made no move to retreat. Instead, he remained at his post. “Are you aware of the position I hold in the imperial guard, soldier?”

He gulped and nodded. “As the current generation’s bearer of Saviour, you are the titular head of the imperial guard.”

“Yes, now move.”

“But, ma’am, we have orders from the empress herself…”

“And in matters pertaining to the safety and security of the empress, my authority is absolute unless there is reason to doubt my loyalty or unless the empress herself strips me of that authority. For centuries, my predecessors have seen to the safety of the emperors and empresses of Arendelle. We have never before failed in our duty. Do you truly have the audacity to defy me on this matter?”

The guardsman stepped aside.

Claire made a mental note to commend the man later for his loyalty. That he had stood up to her for so long was a mark of courage. She stepped into the study, and her lips curled in distaste. The urge to start tidying up was almost too strong for her to ignore. There were piles of documents and other records scattered about. There were mugs of coffee and what appeared to be a half-eaten pizza on one table. And on the couch closest to Averia’s favourite desk was a blanket and a pillow.

Good grief. Averia was the ruler of the most powerful empire in the galaxy, and she was sleeping on a couch after working herself to exhaustion. If Jahne had been here, she would have slapped some sense into her, most likely literally. As it was, Claire would have to take extreme action. 

She spotted the empress slumped over her desk and strode over to her before simply yanking her up out of her chair and hoisting her up onto her shoulder. The empress was awake an instant later. Her Semblance roared to life, but Claire activated her own Semblance, the surge of Saviour’s power shattering the ice that the empress had already begun to gather.

“What are you doing?” Averia shrieked. “Put me down this instant, Claire! That is an order from your empress!”

“I’m afraid, you’re no longer in your right mind due to lack of sleep and rest, so I will be ignoring your orders.” Claire marched out of the room with Averia thrown over her shoulder. She ignored the looks of disbelief from the guardsmen and continued to make her way toward Averia’s private chambers. “You are going to get some proper rest in a proper bed for at least a day, Averia.”

“I am your empress and you will unhand me this second!”

“You are acting like a brat,” Claire shot back. “I’ve received reports about your behaviour. You’re grinding yourself to dust. You haven’t slept in your own bed for weeks. You take your meals in your study. Your own siblings haven’t seen or heard from you in days. They might not be willing to do this, but I am.”

“How dare you -”

“If you keep acting like a child, I will treat you like one.” Claire continued to march down the corridor, but she raised one hand threateningly as Averia continued to squirm.

“You wouldn’t dare -”

“Try me,” Claire replied flatly. “Just go ahead.”

Averia clamped her mouth shut. In many ways, Claire was the more indulgent of her two most loyal supporters and protectors, but when she threatened, it was never idly. In her childhood, Averia had, at times, acted a bit like a spoiled brat. Claire had not tolerated that behaviour at all. More than once, the two of them had gotten into brawls as Jahne had stood back and laughed while taking pictures.

“Good.” Claire’s voice softened as they reached Averia’s chambers. She wasted no time in simply going to the empress’s bedroom and throwing her onto the bed. “Get some sleep. The galaxy is not going to be wiped out in the next two days. You can’t help anybody if you don’t take care of yourself first.”

Averia considered trying to make a break for it. However, she decided not to. Claire was descended from Sigrid, the second daughter of Averia Yun-Farron and Elsa of Arendelle. And much like her pink-haired ancestors, Claire could be unbelievably overprotective, stubborn, and just plain impossible to negotiate with.

“I’m waiting,” Claire said, taking a chair and sitting down in it. “I’m not leaving until you go to sleep. If I do, you’ll just sneak out and keep working.”

“You’re seriously going to watch me sleep? Do you have any idea how creepy that is?”

“Averia, we grew up together. I’ve watched you sleep before. Besides, creepily overprotective is part of the whole Saviour thing. That’s why I’m technically the head of the imperial guard.” Claire scowled. “Now, stop talking and sleep.”

X     X     X

“Oh, shut up.”

Averia blinked and then opened her eyes. As much as she hated to admit it, she felt better than she had in ages. She sat up to find Jahne teasing Claire. Of course, Jahne was there. The current bearer of Ragnarok could always be relied upon to appear when an opportunity to tease Claire became available.

“I can’t believe you carried her over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes,” Jahne said, barely managing to speak through her laughter. “She’s going to have you executed. No, no. She’ll have you banished first and then executed.”

“Just shut up.” Claire scowled. “And look… you woke her up.”

“Hey there,” Jahne said, grinning. “Her Imperial Majesty looks like death warmed over. You definitely needed the time off.” She paused. “But, seriously, don’t banish Claire. We kind of need her to help fight off the Grimm.”

“Nobody is getting banished,” Averia muttered. “I… she was right.” She leaned back. “Now, if you two could get out, I’m going back to sleep.”

[ofparaisoisms]

{ emily tosta / ciswoman / she/her } ☼― Desert sands and sunset hues, Arizona is home to the one and only { CHLOE HOOKUM }. SHE is said to be a { TWENTY-SEVEN-YEAR-OLD MEMBER }, living at Paraiso for almost { FIVE } year(s). They are known to be { + IMAGINATIVE } and { + ADVENTUROUS } as well { - IMPULSIVE } and { - CARELESS }. Rumor has it, they are { WORKING WITH THE CRIMSON RIDERS }. ―☾

Raised a military brat, Chloe grew up moving all around the country, starting her story in Colorado Springs, CO at Fort Carson. Her mother was the definition of a tag chaser and “dependapotamus.” They’d gotten married young, had Chloe also very young (her mother had been eighteen and her father twenty), so figuring how married life and parenting was an adventure for all three of them. To be honest, it left a lot to be desired: her mom was definitely unfaithful and her dad didn’t really care because it gave him a free pass on deployments, and Chloe was more or less left to her own devices. She was a trouble maker, even in her early days. As a child it presented itself as getting into things she shouldn’t, broke her first bone at the age of two (and at least one annually from then on in), bringing home stray (and sometimes wild) animals that she hid in the basement, taking things apart that she couldn’t get back together and never being able to say no to a dare. Her teachers always described her as ‘spirited,’ which was a nice way of saying she didn’t know how in the hell to sit down for more than five minutes or keep her mouth shut. Trouble translated into getting into fights, street racing and breaking and entering abandoned buildings in her teen years, all of which got her into trouble that resulted in late night phone calls to her parents at least a few times. She was seventeen when her family relocated to Arizona, settling into Paraiso when her father retired early from the Army and settled into the Reserves instead. It was there that Chloe was introduced to the Crimson Riders, and prospected into the MC shortly out of high school. Her parents were less than thrilled (though Chloe didn’t care about that all that much, considering they’d never exactly been active participants in her life anyway) and gave her the ultimatum of “not under my roof,” and so Chloe packed her shit and left: the MC was her new family, and she was much more interested in building that relationship. TL;DR: Here is our resident hot ass mess member of the Arizona sector of the Crimson Riders, and I am very sorry to whomever is responsible for her LMAO. Chloe has a big fat mouth she has no control over, and has a hard time taking things seriously. She’s impulsive and reckless, and has a mindset of “it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than it is for permission.” She’s an adrenaline junkie, likes street racing (and street fighting) for that reason. She communicates almost exclusively through memes, smokes way too much weed, survives off of junk food and energy drinks. BUT she can pull herself together when necessary, and is ON IT when the club needs her to be so there’s that.

[mbergen]

Today, Rich and I went with Cici and Larry, back to Padre Island again.  This time we are going to take a 4 hour boat ride down to Brownsville, to the Boat Scrapping Yard.  We have been hearing all about this boat ride and about the Navy boats in the yards for Scrapping.  The aircraft carrier that just arrived in January, was the USS. Constellation.

We arrived around 11:15….Their was this cute little shop in Port Isabel with all kinds of Wooden Pelicans outside.  Cici needed one…lol…”YES  needed one”….for the latest craft project.  We stopped and us girls went in…lol…Cici found a really cute Pelican and I found some Bamboo wind chimes really cheap.   I needed some more.  I have nice neighbors. They like chimes….lol…at least so far…. We arrived at the boat dock around 11:45.  We bought our tickets and finally boarded our boat.

We were really far back in line, so we just stayed on the main floor instead of going to the top.  It really was the best place to be cause we was able to watch our chef cook our dinner.  The sky was cloudy but it was still a pretty day.  Seen a dolphin but they weren’t very active.  As we cruised towards Brownsville, the cook started the dinner.  In the middle of the boat, he had a propane turkey fryer.  He filled it with water, then put in a huge spice packet.  He added the juice of at least 3 lemons.

Once the water started boiling he put in 5 large ziplock bags of sliced potatoes and some onions.  Later he floated 4 huge bags of corn, and then 4 huge bags of sliced up Brats, then he put everything separately in large stainless serving pans.  After he took out the potatoes, he dumped in huge bags of shrimp and boiled them….

All of this was being done as we cruised through the Port area.

  Check out this plate….Potatoes, Brats, Corn, Bun, and Huge Shrimp…We had all the trimmings….seafood sauce or ketchup…whatever needed…and               All the drinks you wanted during the trip…… soda, water or beer….”Lots of beer”..

As we were heading down the channel towards Brownsville the first thing we came upon was the Shrimp Boat Basin….Port of Brownsville is the Shrimp Capital of the world.  The Basin holds around 250 shrimp boats and neighboring Port Isabel has 200 boats.

Most boats are out to sea for 50 to 60 days at a time during peak fishing season.  A boat holds 10,000-20,000 galloons of diesel fuel.  One of the boats in the picture had sunk and was tied to the one next to it.  lol.  Many of them had fallen into derelict stages.   You could see parts of the harbor that were taken care of and parts that was falling apart with time.  We left the basin and went on down to the shipyard.

They looked like huge ships in the distance, like………….. Ghost Ships…………..  But as you cruised closer, you could see they were just huge rusted, empty hulls of steel.  Some still in one piece, many being dismantled and ripped apart piece by piece from bow to stern.  We passed 2 old cruise ships, 1 half ripped apart already. So so sad.  I looked to see if I could find out the names of them but couldn’t, but can you imagine all the good times the people had on them.  The music , the food and the gaiety that rang through their halls.   And above all, if they could talk………The ports that they had visited.

  Some cargo ships, but the most impressive was the 3 aircraft carriers.

This is a close up of one of the carriers as it is being ripped apart.  You can see the interior doors that use to hustle and bustle with officers.  It is so sad that these vast ships cannot be saved somehow.  Their is so much history that has happened on these decks.   So many men have lost their lives and so many still live to remember the times on board.  Do a look up on Google on these 3 carriers and you will see some of the events in history that they served in.  Just amazing.

The Port of Brownsville is home to five of the nations largest Ship-breaking companies.  Navy officials recently awarded the nation’s largest ship-breaking contract to a Brownsville company, commissioned to dismantle the USS Constellation which just arrived in January of this year .  This is the third big military ship-breaking contract to come to the port this year.

   The USS Forrestal, the U.S. Navy’s first supercarrier, arrived in Brownsville in February 2014, and  The USS Saratoga, a Lexington-class aircraft carrier, arrived on September 12th 2014. 

When the ships are taken out of commission, they are stripped down of all mechanics and valuables .   They have to be towed to Brownsville and arrive as just a shell of steel.  The companys strip anything else that may be of value and sell it.  They have an Ebay site as well as a local store.  The steel is cut up and recycled to be used again.  There are many more ships in navel graveyards waiting for this same last trip of Death………

  He took us all around the ships and then headed back up the channel.

  The channel is 17 miles long with a depth of 42 feet.  It is also the largest oil platform production site in America.

We cruised on back up to Port Isabel and cruised around their oil platform.

This platform has been towed in from the ocean for repairs.  The ship is now obsolete and is not used anymore.  It is being stored their for only $6000 a month.  The guide said its been their for around 7 years.  lol  Must be pocket change for them.

  Then we entered an area where the beautiful homes were located on coves.  Each home had a dock at its back door…..Now how awesome is that…and Expensive?….lol….Finally we headed across the bay to Padre Island.

  He made one more stop.  Cruised into the boat channel under the large span of the Causeway Bridge.  Two days after 9/11, a barge hit the bridge and took out a span…..It was kept low profile as it was a bad time in the country and it might be thought of as another attack….but it just was an awful accident. They had the bridge repaired with in several months.

Finally we headed back to Dock.  What a GREAT AFTERNOON it had been.  We didn’t have a very good seat to hear the guide on the PA system.  Actually I don’t think anyone did.   Something they need to fix.   We missed a lot of the details, but never the less. I took 118 photos….wow…Its hard to narrow them done to just a few.

  Great Trip.        Great Food.       Wonderful Crew.      Good Company.

      Boat Trip from Padre Island to Port of Brownsville, Ship Scrapping Yard…. Today, Rich and I went with Cici and Larry, back to Padre Island again.  This time we are going to take a 4 hour boat ride down to Brownsville, to the Boat Scrapping Yard. 

[sammacduffy-blog]

My Dad’s Notebooks

I recently came across my dad’s old journals. They do not resemble the notebooks talks about in his writings. I’ve found the notebooks and have secured them.

The reasons that I’m transcribing his journals is simple, he’s going missing. I need help finding him.

Anyways, here it goes:

Hello there. I’m not sure what you are expecting to find here. Hell, I’m not sure what I’ll be writing here. I already write so much in those damned notebooks. I use the word “damned” in a quite literal sense. You’ll under

Anyways, I wanted to leave something for my family. I’ve been going through a lot lately and figured that getting my thoughts out on normal paper would be a hell of a lot better than the alternative… I’m sorry, I must sound confusing. I hope that the further you read, the more it will make sense.

Where should I start? From the beginning? Sure, why not. Every story has a beginning.

I was raised a typical military brat. Spent time over in Europe and a multitude of states. My dad worked with the Air Force in Strategic Air Command. All I knew about his job what that is was classified. He once tried explaining it to me like this:

“Well, it’s like going to work every day and trying to put together a jigsaw puzzle. However, the picture is a solid color and other people keep adding more pieces or hiding them from you.”

I didn’t see him much. The only way in knew he was home was by the presence of his duffel bags. He had one packed for an out-of-country deployment and one for an in-country TDY. If both bags were by the door, I knew he was home.

Mom did her best to keep up with my brother and me. It didn’t help that she also worked a classified job, just on the DoD Civilian side of things. At least we were able to see her at nights and on weekends.

During the week days, my brother would go to day care and I would go to the base’s youth center. I was a little awkward and mostly kept to myself. I didn’t really fit any “normal” stereotype. After awhile, I got use to being alone. It got to the point that I started to worry my parents. I enjoyed being alone so much that it seemed normal to me. My parents said that I should have been spending time with kids on my own age and enjoying the very few family functions we had.

Don’t get me wrong, I loved my family. I just didn’t want to be around them.

Before my lack of social skills became too much of a problem, my dad was medically discharged from the Air Force and we moved back to my parent’s hometown. The thought was that our family down there would be able to “instill the traditional southern hospitality” in me and I would become “normal.”

Given the type of people that frequent this website, I know that you’ll find that humorous. Just finish laughing and I’ll type ahead. Heaven knows that I’m not going anywhere.

So, to appease my parents and keep from being hackled to death by my family, I became “normal.” There was a trade off, however. It seemed to be an unspoken agreement between my parents and me. I would act “normal” out in public and around my extended family and then I was allowed my alone time when we were at our house.

After the second week of being in their hometown, my mom bought me a little back notebook. She thought that I should be able to at least get my thoughts out of my head and express myself in some form.

We settled into a routine of me going to school and having a social life with friends. My parents pretended that everything was fine and I would steal away into my room every sparing moment that I could and fill notebooks full of rants, short stories, and general thoughts.

I felt comfortable writing. Just something about the pen and paper. The ink and paper didn’t judge. My favorite combination was a classic, lined Molekine hard cover journal and a Parker Jotter pen. I wrote so much that a callus developed on the side of my middle finger. Each of my writing sessions would leave my hand cramped and aching, and I loved it.

I eventually graduated high school and didn’t follow the normal crowd to university. Instead, I chose to go into public service. I went to a community college and obtained my EMT-Basic certificate and license. I worked my way up to being a Paramedic and actually enjoyed my job.

I bet you’re scratching your head. Yeah, a little more information will help.

My dad was a fire medic for our hometown before he enlisted in the Air Force. Because he went into the National Guard and not active duty straight away, they made his civilian job his military job. When it was apparent that my parents couldn’t afford a family on a firefighter’s salary, dad when active duty and we were shipped to Europe. During his transition back to the states, he was moved to SAC.

The few conversations that I did have with him, he had always talked about enjoying the fire department and wishing that he had never left.

With that, I followed in my father’s foot steps. But, I didn’t stop at just being a paramedic. I obtained my flight medic certification and when through a Tactical Combat Casualty Care course. I spent time attached to my county’s Sheriff S.W.A.T. Team. I worked with an anti-human trafficking group. I became a Critical Stress Incident Debriefer. The certifications I earned goes on for days.

It’s no secret that we see some bad things in the field and the list of fucked-up shit that I’ve seen is long and extensive.

So, for your benefit, beloved reader, I will not go into detail. Those are my demons to deal with.

Every chance I get, I put another demon into one of my precious notebooks. My hand screams with pain every time I write. It’s almost as if I can feel the pain leaving my body through the ink of my pen. The gratification of seeing that ink forever trapped on those pages is indescribable.

I do my best to keep my notebooks from my family. The atrocities that fill those pages makes the devil smile with delight. Sometimes, I can even hear him whisper over my shoulder to let the demons out.

“Oh, how beautiful if would be…” he would start. “It’s very simple and you know it.” My hands would run over the covers of my notebooks, feeling each one of them begging to be let out. His whispers would grow sweeter and more enticing each time he spoke.

Then, I would see a reflection of myself. An evil grin playing on my lips. I would snap out of it and leave my office.

My office is not very big. I live in a four bed room house and it’s the smaller of the rooms. I installed a lock on the door to keep the curious temptations of my wife and kids in check. I bought a small second hand desk and shelves. Each shelf is filled with my precious notebooks. Their spines smile at me every time I walk in the room. At last count, I had two-thousand and fifty-seven notebooks.

I do what I feel like every dutiful father and husband should. I provide for my family. I make time for my girls and wife. But, when they are all in bed, I head to my office. My wife knows where I go. She knows that if I walk into my office with a bad attitude, I always come out feeling better.

I have a routine when I enter my office. I unlock the door, step inside, shut and lock my door, and stand there in the darkness for no more than ninety seconds. It becomes too unbearable if I stay in the dark any longer. After turning on the light, I make my way to my coffee maker and make a large cup of coffee. Once it has brewed and coffee in hand, I walk over to the book shelf that holds my empty notebooks and select one. It isn’t a random choice, while all of my notebooks look that same, each notebook is different. I run my fingers over the spines and pick the one that calls to me that day. I sit down at my desk and pull out my pen. I take a sip of coffee and start to write.

My writing isn’t elegant or beautiful. It’s harsh and heavy-handed. When I start, the pages of the notebook are slowly filled. The pages make a satisfyingly crackle when I turn to write on the next page. As each page passes, the writing becomes faster. There is not change to my handwriting, my writing just becomes faster and faster. There are no breaks and I don’t go back to read them. When I finally close my notebook and slide the elastic band over the cover, my hand is aching and he is whispering in my ear. You see, the coffee isn’t for me. I just make sure the taste is suitable for him. Once I am able to stand, I take my notebook over to the shelves of full notebooks and slide it into its proper place. There is no origination to my notebooks, each one just tells me where to place it.

I wipe out the used coffee mug, place it next to the coffee maker, and unlock my door. Just before I step out of the door, I hear him say, “See you tomorrow night.”

It wasn’t a normal routine. But, it was one that allowed for my family to live happily enough. There where times that I was not able to write in my notebooks and my family could tell. One time, I tried for about a week and was almost put on anti-depressants as a result. At that point, my wife encouraged me to write every night that I was at home. My parents, however, still thought that it was unhealthy. I wish they would have just left everything alone. Things would definitely be better if they had.

I remember that day very clearly. I had gotten off of shift that morning and had taken my girls to see their aunt. My dad was suppose to get off of work a little after noon and meet us at their house so we could all spend some time together before Aunt Pam left to go back home.

Mom asked me to call dad to make sure that he knew to come home instead of going to his doctor’s appointment. (We rescheduled it for the next week.) Dad said, “Ok.” And we went back to talking like nothing was wrong.

You can see where this is going.

Last trigger warning. It’s about to get graphic.

When I couldn’t get a hold of dad and he didn’t show up for dinner, I went to his office to check on him. My heart sank as I turned the corner and saw his truck sitting in the empty parking lot. He wouldn’t answer the door and very time I called, I could hear his phone ring.

I called 911 and gave them my spill. Luckily I knew the dispatcher and the responding fire department. We were able to use a halligan tool to open the side door and we made entry.

I was the first one to find him. He was lying in the floor of the bathroom with his belt around his neck. I’ve seen too many dead bodies to know. The ashen skin, the cyanosis around his lips, and swollen tongue, I knew he had passed. All I could do was stand there, knowing that there was absolutely nothing I could do. The feeling of helplessness was overwhelming. I felt the a pair of arms wrap around me and then I was being led out of the building by my colleagues.

I sat on the bumper of the rescue truck. My face buried in my hands. No matter how hard I not to let them, the tears escaped. There wasn’t a person on scene that I didn’t know. I was brought water, offered a consoling word or two, and hugged. After what seemed an eternity, I was able to compose myself long enough to talk with a deputy and answer his questions.

After a while the dark humor took over and it was as if I were just on another scene with my co-workers. Of course, I had to step away a time or two, just to compose myself and then walk back. It was during one of my walks back that I noticed it. A set of eyes just beyond the edge of light. It was far enough back into the shadows that I couldn’t quite make out the shape, but I knew exactly what it was. It was at that time that I felt a slight touch on my should and a whisper in my ear.

“He read one.” His voice jeered. “Oh, how beautiful it was.” I couldn’t see him, but I knew that he was smiling.”

“Now is not the time to be playing fucking games.” I said in a low tone. All fear from me had gone. Nothing but anger and hatred were guiding my words.

I felt his hand move from my shoulder, almost as a startle. It was then that I realized that this was the first time that I had actually spoken to him.

“No games.” He said. All evidence of him being startled was nonexistent. “I’m only speaking truth. Go look in his office chair.”

Without saying another word to him, I walked up to the deputy and asked to look at my dad’s office chair. The deputy walked with me into dad’s office and using a gloved hand, we pushed the chair back. There is was, sitting as he said it would be.

“Anything relevant?” The deputy asked.

“Not sure. You mind?” I asked, gesturing to the notebook. The deputy shook his head and I opened the notebook. It was completely empty.

His voice returned to my ear, “Your door is no longer locked.”

[ramrodd]

Which was the cruelest army in WWII?

COMMENTARY:

War is all cruelty: there is no refining it. Sherman.

Cem Arslan has a useful answer for the question: Which was the cruelest army in WWII?. By tradition, the Turks have the reputation for being the most consistently unmerciful. Even the godless communist horde of both North Korea and Mao’s Red China, the Sino- in the Sino-Soviet Pact, were iurmpressed by the Turks, Godless commies are ideologically cruel, the negation of the negation in the various processes of Dialectical Materialism. It’s nothing personal. It just feels personal. With the Turks, it is something else, entirely.

So, what does that mean? Indeed. It’s a childish comparison. An Englishman says somewhere “Comparison is odious” and this question, characteristic of amatuer historians and weekend Nazis with a comic book combat fetish, is a good example of what he meant, that Englishman. Among other things, it’s the wrong comparison.

You need to compare war, itself, with all alternatives in terms of itself.

From my point of view, I was far more anti-war before I went to Vietnam than the writers of the Port Huron Statement were, collectively, at the time. At least one of them was an enthusiast of violent revolution, or, at least, a student of the genre. Frank Burns, the guy who coined the slogan “Be All You Can Be” and I grew up in the Army when the sexy career path was Counter-Insurgency in the same way programming was sexy to Bill Gates and Steve Jobs. Frank and I had both read “Seven Pillars of Wisdom” before Lawrence of Arabia was released, which was after Castro seized Havana, Doctor No was release and MacArthur’s “Duty, Honor, Country” valedictory at West Point. Sometime in the time frame. He became a Green Beret after helping to write the manifesto for the Students for a Democratic Society.

This purpose of this manifesto was to set a home-grown, grass-roots Trotsky insurgency process into motion leading to violent revolution in the host culture. The 1968 police riots in Chicago was an anticipated consequence of the Port Huron Statement, but I am convinced that the only person who really understood what that meant in terms of “cruelty” was Frank Burns. He almost got expelled from ROTC his senior year for this association, but he was an Army brat and he promised never to start a violent revolution again.

That was 1962 and I didn’t get to college until 1965 a and the SDS was holding weekly open debates at Indiana University right outside the student union the summer I entered. I wrote my dad about them (our family wrote letters and post cards virtually everytime we stopped for gas in Europe and the habit stuck) and he wrote back and warned me to stay away and sign no petitions but to watch a communist-front organization in action. So, I did. I knew all about the cruelty of war as an Army brat growing up in Germany at the same time the Hungarian was taking place just down the Autobahn, across the bridge at Andau.

The Hungarian Revolution was like the activities of the Zealots against the Romans in Jerusalem as resistence against an occupying army. There are those who compare the KKK with the Zealots to some degree, but its a fraud, like the NRA’s version of the 2nd Amendment. Swamp gas in the minds of thugs and psychopaths. The Hungarian Revolution wasn’t a battle to the death like the Warsaw Ghetto and more or less spontaneous.

But it, the Hungarian Revolution, was different from what the SDS set into motion, which was more like adding a diseased yeast to a healthy dough ball. It, the SDS insurgency process modeled on Trotsky’s theories, is designed to create an unnatural polarization (or amplify existing disparatie) in a host culture and leverage the alienation through constant agitprop until you get Bastille Day or something like Kent State. That’s what Trotsky was doing in Mexico. It is unclear to me why he was killed except for Stalin’s bureaucratic command of vengence as political intercourse. When Newt Gingrich talks of politics being the continuation of warfare, he got it from Trotsky, in particular, and the dialectical contrarianism of Marx.

And, so, I had a ready laboratory for observing a literal communist conspiracy unrolling before my eyes as an ROTC student and when things like Kent State occurred or the Chicago police riots, I could check off another bullet point.

One of the failures of the US Army in Vietnam was the obvious absence of effective Counter-Insurgency measures before Tet 68, when Hanoi opened an totally unexpected front with the VC, which had been, before the Diem brothers were killed, the primary political opponent to the whole idea of a Republic of Vietnam and a focus of the US Army’s military contribution to nation building through the up-country Green Beret suppression activities. And the cruelty of war was captured on film for the CBS Evening News for all to see, captured for some by the execution of a VC but, for me, at the end of the war, the little girl running away from napalm. I hated that before it happened and before I went to Vietnam.

Which was immediately after the Cambodian Incursion and at te time of the court martial of Lt. Calley for running a combat platoon in a war zone. William Calley is the Breaker Morant of the America War in Vietnam and an example of shit flowing downstream in terms of responsibility and accountability.

So, I was raised anti-war and was introduced to its cruelty from within the cloister of the US Army and prepared myself purposefull from the time of MacArthur’s valedictory to the profession of arms as a very pro-active Peace Through Superior Firepower anti-war activist on the basis that it is far better for it to happen somewhere else than downtown Smallville, USA. Or Detroit. The importance of the republican expression of the profession of arms is that it is a creature of the rule of law and, theoretically, you can employ it righteously in the progression of the human community such as envisioned by the United Nations.

My dad observed on a regular basis that, in the profession of arms, it is cruel to be kind and kind to be cruel, which is a way of saying that you can’t make omeletts without breaking some eggs. Trying to quantify cruelty by comparison is futile and meaningless.

Mercy is the only register of significance. Keep that in mind as you watch John Bolton’s mustach twitch like a demented catapillar when he speaks and ask yourself:

Does he keep it for his wife’s pleasure or is it a strategy of labial avoidance?

[clamonnaturalhealth]

As hard as it is to believe, they are six months old! From those tiny little babies that entered our lives so unexpectedly to half a year old. Every day that passes their personalities get bigger and so do they. As I have told y’all in earlier post, we kept 3 kits Cyan, Kami, and George, as well as mom, Carmel. Two kittens went to new home, Jinx to our daughter Megan and Cleo to our friend Gabby. Call us nuts but having six cats is mostly fun, but sometimes crazy and frustrating. We have mamma, Carmel, the three kittens, and our boys Fabio, who is 12 and Beeker who is now 5. Okay now on to what you came here to read, all about the kittens, just 1 more thing; a new product I found for pets, that I highly recommend! Read on….

Fabio

Caramel (aka mamma)

Beeker

Well I told y’all in the last update we were attempting to toilet train, at least, Carmel and the kittens, so much for that idea! Only Kami got it and only part of the time so we gave up on that experiment! We are now moving to an automatic flushing potty, because litter boxes with six cats is ridiculous! Well any way you put it six cats is ridiculous, but my husband loves them and since he was a deprived military brat who was only allowed to have a hamster I’ll give him this one. Who am I kidding, I love them too and they are good company while I’m here all day by myself writing. They do get aggravating when I’m trying to work and they are determined to “help” by getting in my lap and pushing keys on the laptop or playing with the iPad screen. I must admit they have been good for me, something I haven’t talked about is losing my best friend of 13 years in late May. Boudreaux was my first dog and I had him since he was just six weeks old. He had been with me through thick and thin, my illnesses, the auto accident, the long recovery from my injuries, and the hard work it took to get back to this close to normal. I miss him terribly, as I type tears spill down my cheeks, loosing him is still to tender on my heart to talk about. The kittens entered our life just six weeks before Boo left for heaven and they were a God send! Literally!! They have kept me entertained and distracted from my grief.

George is the biggest six month old kitten I’ve ever seen! His nickname after he was born was Bruiser, and his size still measures up to that name. However, his personality couldn’t be more opposite! He’s just a big ‘ol lovable orange teddy bear! He’s calm, cool, collected and loves nothing more than sitting in your lap purrrrring and sleeping. When he does manage to gather the energy to play his favorite toy is a drinking straw! So much so I can’t have a straw in my glass and take my eyes off it! He stole my straw out of my glass today, with it in my hand! About the only other thing he loves is a tunnel my husband bought them and it’s even better if his straw isn’t to long and he can get it in his tunnel.

Kami is still the sweetheart of the bunch. She has big green eyes that are always watching and learning. She has an old ratty mouse (pun intended) that she loves and if she’s going to play it’s with that mouse or with her siblings. She loves to sleep on the couch by her mamma, and when my husband gets home from work she is in his lap. I have even seen her back down the sixty-five pound dog because my husband is HER person! She wears a bright pink collar with a bell that’s not needed cause she is mostly chill all the time. She did give us a scare a couple weeks ago, when she developed a cough out of the blue. After a couple of days of this odd, random, cough we took her in to the veterinarian and she was diagnosed with asthma. Yes, cats can have asthma! After a steroid shot and a round of antibiotics, which she was wonderful about taking, she’s not had any further issues. But just in case we changed to a dust free litter and took the lid off the litter box. We haven’t made to move to the flushable litter box yet, but it’s on the top of my wish list on Amazon!

Cyan! What can I say… I could write a book just about her! I am her person! Period end of story! Just ask her. She is active, crazy, and oh so smart! She loves to play fetch, especially at five in the morning, when I am trying to sleep. She loves all the toys, balls, the tunnel, scrunchy toys, fuzz, bugs, and on and on. Nothing is safe! She knows, very well, the rules of the house, but doesn’t care and does it anyway! Gets on the table, the counters, swings from the curtains, everything. Where she is concerned the squirt bottle filled with water is my best friend. She saw Fabio on the top of the refrigerator, hiding out from the kittens, and thought I can do that! Never mind it’s a big time no, no and Fabio got in trouble, it took me two weeks with the squirt bottle to break her of getting up there. She is so stubborn and strong willed and keeps me on my toes and laughing a lot! Sometimes I don’t know what I’m going to do with her, but I also have no idea what I’d do without her!

Jinx lives in Michigan, with our daughter and her husband. He is such a handsome boy! He LOVES his dog, Willow, they are best buds and he gets frustrated when Willow goes outside and he can’t go too, but sometimes he try’s to sneak out too, but quickly rethinks that. He is chatty, loves to tell you all about his day while everyone was at work. Mr. Jinx likes to cuddle and try and sneak food away from Hobbes, his older cat brother. He will catch the ceiling fan (see photo), he just knows it! He’s vocal about his breakfast, and his second breakfast and if you even think about missing his dinner!

Cleo (short for Cleopatra) looks the most like her mamma. She is getting more and more color in her coat and even had a beige tip on her tail like mamma. She is snugly, she loves to follow her human mom, Gabby, around and be where she is. She’s totally a mamma’s girl! She likes to play fetch only with milk jug lids. One of her other favorite pass times is bugging her big “sister” Shadow, who was perfectly happy being an only child. She also likes to pull her combo food and water bowl across the floor, just to make a mess for mom! And they all love boxes! We never thought we would have to keep so many boxes!

First article on 5 Kittens and a Blog   

5 Kittens and a Blog (6week update)

5 Kittens and a Blog (8 week old update)

5 Kittens and a Blog (4 month update)

The new product I was telling you about is a CBD Oil for pets! The company is reputable, FDA approved, organic, non GMO and made in the USA. I wish I had this product for Boo, before he got sick. I can’t help thinking maybe it would have made a difference and he could have stayed with me a few more years. Here is the information and the link to order. I have been taking the human version of this CBD Oil for months and it has helped me considerably! I have Fibromyalgia, disabling injuries from an auto/semi accident, and Lupus. I have seen a major improvement in my pain levels and sleep quality since starting Hempworx CBD Oil. I highly recommend it for humans and our beloved pets!

Alternative Pet Care (Supplements for cats)

HempWorx has just launched CBD PRODUCTS FOR PETS!

The CBD industries newest customers are sick and elderly pets. As you probably already know, Cannabis has been used medicinally for centuries. Currently, there are over 13,000 journal articles on cannabinoids and more than 1,500 on CBD specifically. In these articles, the evidence for CBD efficacy in animals is unbelievable.

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Our new HempWorx CBD Dog Treats are baked in a 105 foot tunnel oven, the old fashioned way. They contain NO wheat, NO corn, NO soy, NO glycerins, NO waxes, NO added sugars, and NO artificial ingredients. They are 100% natural, and veterinarian approved. HempWorx dog treats also sell for $39/bag (20BV).

Get your 250mg CBD Oil for Pets and HempWorx CBD dog treats by visiting: 

To order CBD Oil for pets

Pet Owners across the globe are starting to realize the health benefits by giving their furry friends farm-trusted high quality CBD. Some pet owners we’ve talked to are realizing improvements in anxiety, aging/mental function, arthritis, autoimmune disorders, bone health, glaucoma, infections, pain, and inflammation.

Now, for the first time ever, HempWorx has brought to market the most powerful CBD products for pets!

  5 Kittens and a Blog (6 month update) As hard as it is to believe, they are six months old! From those tiny little babies that entered our lives so unexpectedly to half a year old.

[ladimelanina]

There's Hurt and Pain Around My Beautiful Dark Skin

God told me to write this. She said, “You’re entering the next stage in your life and you won’t be able to bring this shit with you.  You have important work to do and this baggage will only continue to hold you back from your purpose.”

To those I’m speaking of: I’m not sorry if the way I remember your behavior offends you.  These are my memories and my truth from my perspective.  If I’m fucked up, broken and dysfunctional it’s because of you, but I allowed it.  And being aware of that,  it is now on me to change it - to heal it.  

Be aware of the internal, psychological, spiritual, and emotional damage you may be causing someone.  It’s way more than “kids having harmless fun.”  Don’t teach your kids that stupid shit.  #sorrynotsorry

All I ever hear these days is how beautiful and rich my complexion is.  It was odd to me at first, especially coming from Black people.  White people and foreigners have always found me beautiful but with my people, it was like NOW they wanted to be around me BECAUSE of my dark skin when, before college, it had basically been a “black people repellent”.  I was in the twilight zone so I couldn’t always tell if they were fucking with me, complimenting me so they could get something out of me or if they were actually sincere.  I’ve experienced a little bit of each.  I still struggle with being able to tell the difference today because some people get off on being nasty to others for no reason.  I have plenty of experience with those types.  

Looking back on the first time I became aware that my looks were undesirable to the people in my own community makes me sad for us due to the intense brainwashing into self-hate that we have endured.  I was 5 or 6 when an adult, at least 30 to 40 years my senior, said something negative to me about my complexion, all because my front tire accidentally entered her yard as I was falling off my bike. I forever saw her as an evil bitch after that and did my best to avoid her and her evil daughter who is another story altogether.  But we lived on opposite ends of the same 4-house unit in the projects where I grew up, so it wasn’t an easy task. What kind of mentality does a person have who would call a 5 year old out of their name instead of helping a little girl who fell off her bike?  If my adult self could go back in time, there’s no telling the words I would have with her but also the positive vibes I would instill in that little girl so that she’d be prepared and unbothered by the host of negative encounters to come. 

I always loved my family but I hated those overnight trips to visit my grandma’s sister.  The colorism was real over there and I was always isolated.  The cousins in my age group wouldn’t touch me with a 10-foot pole so I just spent those days sitting alone, watching them play and take time out of play to laugh at me.  Nobody ever stopped it as far as I can remember.  The last time I saw my great aunt before she passed, she said, “You turned out prettier than I would have thought.”  I was stunned and I wasn’t gonna talk back to an old woman so I just thought, “Wow!  You actually thought of me as an ugly child and didn’t think there would be any hope for me to one day be a beautiful woman because I’m dark.”

I learned early on that nobody had my back and everyone, including family, had the potential to hurt me.  (Naturally, I have trust issues.)  I have a great uncle, to this day, that never really asks me how I’m doing or takes much interests in what’s going on in my life but when my lighter-skinned family members come around, he hangs on their every word and action. 

The day I knew I was really alone was when I was at my aunt’s house.  It was just my cousin, who I consider my brother because we were both raised by our Grandma, and my aunt’s god daughter who was kinda my friend but wasn’t as much a friend to me as I had been to her.  I’ve heard so many insults over the years that I’m not even sure what he said - blackie, purple, burnt, crispy, stay out of the sun - just pick one.  But it sparked a fit of rage where I lost control of myself and proceeded to beat him into every room on the top floor, crying and screaming hysterically while he laughed and she looked on giggling here and there.  It was one of the worst hurts because I thought I could at least depend on him to stand up for me but there were times when he would join in on the ridicule and I’d just be forced to wander off and cry alone.  From that day, I would subconsciously embark on a life of not drawing attention to myself.  Being sure to keep myself in the background and in the shadows of whatever was going on around me. 

I didn’t go to school dances and other events.  I didn’t go to my high school prom.  I don’t even think I had a birthday party beyond the age of 10.  In the 10th grade I would wander around the military base (yea, I’m a former army brat) at lunch time with my discman and go into stores and look at magazines and books because I didn’t have any friends to eat lunch with.  I avoided wearing bright colors like yellow, pink and orange because it emphasized my darkness even more.  No matter how girly I really wanted to be, I dressed like a boy until I was about 19. I guess it seemed like a pretty good disguise at the time.  

Along the way, I learned that insults from boys were usually a one and done situation but the girls, even the ones who claimed to be my friends or hang out with me when no one else was available, would constantly pick at me as if trying to break me down little by little everyday.  My “friends” would do it in front of people they were trying to impress.  In middle school, my homeroom teacher asked us to bring in old pictures of ourselves to share with the class.  As my kindergarten picture (above) got passed around, one girl stopped everything by saying, “Who is this?  She’s cute but damn, she black!”  If I could slap the shit out of her today I would.  I was scared to even try to make friends with other black girls.  I got to a point where I just assumed that every time one of them laughed or whispered they were talking about me. That paranoia still haunts me.  I easily made friends with boys but any girl that I was friends with was one who approached me first.  I really don’t even know how to make friends because I’ve always stayed in my box until I was approached.  Any best friends I had in the different states and countries I lived in was usually more like an ONLY friend.   

I’m more introspective and reflective than quick witted so I never really knew how to stand up for myself, which is one of my only regrets.  My comebacks always came hours or days later when I was alone in thought, in the shower or listening to music.  I would beat myself up about not responding then promise myself that next time I would say something and be quick about it.  There’s only one instance I can remember where I actually said something.  The details are fuzzy, but just the feeling of saying something as simple as “shut yo ugly, bitch-ass up” was soooooo worth it!  No one was expecting that because I was known for being quiet and shy and I usually just walked away with my head down.  Everybody laughed at him and it felt good.  I wish I’d done it more often but it is what it is.

One thing that kinda kept me sane, but still dysfunctional in my isolation and loneliness, was the fact that although no one ever told me, I never thought I was ugly.  I always had this theory that I was actually pretty but no one could see it because they were distracted by my skin.  In fact I knew I was cute, I was a dark skinned version of my mom and people are always talking about how pretty she is and how I am her spitting image.  I have beautiful aunts and handsome uncles that all resemble each other so it was impossible that I was ugly.  And my dad, although I never knew him and his family well, my grandma always said he was very handsome. Sometimes before my mom got home from work I would slather on her foundation to change me to her brown complexion for a few minutes and look in the mirror.  I didn’t wish I was light skinned but if I could’ve changed it, I would’ve chosen her brown over my black.

I was told by a family member to be sure to marry a lighter skinned man when I grow up so that my children won’t have to go through the same thing I did.  I need y’all to see me shine now because no child should have to go through any of that.  Wishing they were lighter and having to activate dysfunctional defense mechanisms to get through each day.  Allow children to be their unique selves and be proud of it.  As I said before it was a grown-ass woman who took the first stab at me, a child; and her daughter inherited her mean nasty attitude.  You, the adult, need to change so that your kids don’t model your sickness. Yes, it’s sick and kids only do what they see you doing.  As far as I’m concerned I was ridiculed by the children of a lot of sick adults who are now adults themselves and probably teaching the same level of dysfunctional behavior to the next generation.  STOP IT!  Heed your grandma’s age old advice - If you ain’t got nothin nice to say, keep you damn mouth shut.

It’s been a rough road for me emotionally but if I hadn’t had to build myself up from the very bottom of self-esteem, worth and confidence I might have turned out to be a conceited little asshole that believed that I had to put others down in order to assert my own self-worth.  I’m multi-talented, I’m nice to everyone I meet, I’m interested in the uniqueness of others, and it may be cliche but I care about making the world a better place.  I’m proud of the person I’ve become thus far and I’m still learning and growing.  This is just the beginning.  

Although this really is only the half, a gigantic weight has been lifted from my soul.  I think I can move on now.

Thanks for reading!

[boomtanknotboombox]

Concurrence

Harbringer is just casually sitting on a certain mech's desk when they come back.

Sideswipe is just going to grab the nearest heaviest thing he can lift and swing it at him. "OFF!"

"Well that isn't very nice!" Off Harbringer goes. Sliding backwards on the desk so it was Sideswipe's chair he found himself sitting  in. Not the most comfortable, but hey he at least wasn't sitting there first.

Just flat out growls at Harbringer. "I don't like you, glowstick. And THAT is my SEAT!" he snapped, marching around it to try and dump the mech out of it.

"Now whose problem is that? Not like I've tried to deliberately harm you or that shiny brother of yours." Nope. Harbringer would not be moved this time. The chair was far heavier than it usually was and even appeared to be bolted to the floor.

"Oh you nasty fragger. Get!" still gonna attempt to make the mech vacate the seat, looking a bit pissed off right now. "And Imma make it your problem!" he snarled, "You scared him half to death, among other things, and now you come back and sit yourself on MY desk!?"

There would be no moving until Sideswipe gave up or it stopped being entertaining to him. Frankly neither of those would be happening anytime soon. "You say that as if I could of known how your sibling would react. I'm not omnipotent, mech." Shrugs and leans back into the chair. "Well I was waiting for you to return. I might of picked up that you've been conversing with a certain mech. One who needs to mind his own damn business." Snorts.

Yep. Sideswipe was not giving up on his chair. That was his, damnit. Get out of it you feathered glowing thing! He was not happy. "No, you're just an AFT! Not get yours out of my SEAT!" so much anger. So, so much anger.

"You mean your brother afthat?"

Now Harbringer was wondering just how angry Sideswipe could get. No one outside the room would hear the red mech shrieking in rage, so there wouldn't be any interruptions. "I don't consider him to be my brother no matter what he says otherwise. We're alternates of each other." Talons click against his own frame as his arms crossed.

Very angry. Like right now his anger was boiling over, and he just kicked at the chair Harbringer was sitting in. So not happy."Yeah, yeah, so you don't...like...him? Alternate? Somehow, not surprised." Sideswipe commented, before leaning up against the back of the seat.

Progress was Sideswipe not trying to destroy his own chair to get Harbringer out. Tilting his helm to the side, the mech eyed the still angry Sideswipe.

"We have our differences. He hardly approves of my nature and activities." Shakes his helm.

"How is that twin of yours? I see he's not dead. You're thriving proof of that."

Sideswipe was only going to glare back, still furious, but he knew what battles to pick. This was not one

"And you apparently don't approve of his. Or you wouldn't be here bothering the slag outta me." Sideswipe growled, optics narrowing at the mention of his twin.

"Sunstreaker is fine, thanks for asking." his reply may have been a bit stiff, but he was not feeling too happy with the winged mech.

"I have my own reasons other than to tell you to tell that fragging mech to learn to step off." Harbringer growled for a moment. In the next his pedes were propped up onto the desk. Talons steepled together as he huffed.

"Been taking note of any changes in Blaster lately~?"

"Now I might just not just because." no he wouldn't. But still, he was feeling like being a brat, and yeah. He just huffed at the peds up on his desk, and shoved them off.

"Yeah? He's actually recharging the entire cycle now..."

"I don't suppose he's mentioned why that is?" Sitting up since his pedes were kicked off, Harbringer casually took a look at a datapad on the desk. They somehow managed to not get knocked off when he slid backwards.

"Hm..."

Yeah, he's not happy with the mess. At all. He's gonna have to fix his desk now.

"No. He hasn't. He's also not really mentioned why he wasn't sleeping." And going to pluck the datapad out of Harbringer's sight, and huffed. "So, yeah, you seem to know more about this than me."

Snorts. Moving a servo, a small cube appeared in his servo. It balanced right on the corner on one talon. Yes he was showing off."Of course I'd know what is going on, Sideswipe. My simply being here should be proof enough of that." The cube on Harbringer's talon swayed with the servo's movements.

"It amuses me that he hasn't told you. It does me no good for him to be so restless in slumber. Nor in keeping secrets from mechs like you. Here I would of thought he trusted you."

Supremely tempted to flick the cube off. Seriously. So tempted.

"...you know what? I am not going to comment on that." Sideswipe grumbled, as he watched other show off.

"...I know he's having nightmares. He's warned me and Sunstreaker of that." now he was back on guard. Something was up.

"A shame. You'd learn so much." Shattering Sideswipe's view of Prophet would of tagged along with such an explanation. Quite the shame.

"Those nightmares are quite telling. Such disassociation that mech has with the war and his past life." Harbringer casually spun the cube before flicking his wrist and catching it.

For a moment his voice dropped low, reminiscent almost. "Can't let her experience that..."

"All things considered? I'll ask him." Sideswipe responded, letting out another huff.

"Disassociation? From what? He was a Communications Officer." then rebel leader, but something told him that was not what Harbringer meant. And he had to strain to hear the last bit, but that only confused him further.

"Heh... You really don't know who he was or what he did." Talons pierced the cube. It wasn't enough to shatter it, but it did lead the vivid pink liquid dripping down Harbringer's talons.

"Tell me Sideswipe... What was the worse thing you did during the war?" Makes a small motion with his other servo. "What is said here doesn't leave this room."

"...What...are you talking about? He's my friend. Blaster. What else is there?" He's not sure if he really wants to know, but morbid curiosity has him, and he's not sure he could not know now.

"Mech, I'm SpecOps." he sighed, but decided to humor the other winged mech, just for now, "I...have help level a Decepticon base. Several, actually. By myself? I used Sunstreaker's medical knowledge to get information out of a prisoner."

Rather than looking at Sideswipe, Harbringer favored watching the dripping energon. It wasn't as if his hidden optics couldn't flicker over. Sideswipe was just beyond the cube after all.

"That isn't too terrible an act committed. Ever encountered a mech who destroyed Decepticon leaning cities? Such did exist during the early days after all." Motions the cubed servo back and forth. "Same would go for ones leaning toward Autobot. Neither side were really 'good' nor 'evil' as far as history is concerned."

Sideswipe only stared, trying to process what had been said."No...? I don't...I don't think so? What are you getting at?" he had a feeling he knew what Harbringer was getting at, and he really didn't like it. Period. Because it would mean Blaster had done some terrible things in the early stages of the War.

"Curious, that's all. I've seen plenty of wars. Think the one you were in was the only war Cybertron suffered? Mechs don't get to enjoy a Golden Age without it having been fought for."

Harbringer lowered his cube and his gaze followed. "Trying to peg just what is known and what has been buried in the past. Sometimes for good reason and other times not. History is written by the winners after all."

See, now here's where Sideswipe just gives Harbringer a confused and frustrated look. Because why would he bring that up? "I know that. We do have a military for a reason." he huffed, still looking fairly put out.

"But why the sudden interest in those faceless mechs?" yes, they were a force to be reckoned with, but...he still felt like something was off.

That got Harbringer's attention. Sideswipe might of just slipped up and given him information he didn't have readily available. Sometimes information from a proper source beat the 'digging' he had to do.

"I didn't mention faceless mechs, Sideswipe."

Sideswipe was just going to blink at the sudden attention, unsure of what had gotten it, as he straightened up.

"Yeah...? You kinda did, when you mentioned the mecha who's combined force tore down cities...I only know of three groups that fits that description...well, on our side. And only one of those groups is known to do that exclusively."

So it wasn't just how Blaster perceived the memory in hindsight. It was a genuine memory. Dreams for Cybertronians usually were so when they occurred. Some deviation was to be expected. Though not to the extreme he had thought. "Interesting..." For a moment Harbringer grinned. Somehow, despite not having optics to reflect his emotions, it came off as a sad grin.

"How helpful you've been, Sideswipe." Flicks his wrist with the cube in it. The cube and any mess he might of caused simply vanished. Even the heavy object Sideswipe had lifted upon entering was back where it belonged. "More so than I was expecting."

The sad look was not what he expected. It actually made him pause for a moment, blinking in mild shock. "What?"

"Whoa. Okay, no. How did...what do you mean? What's going on, and what am I missing here?" he really does feel like he just got left out of a loop that he probably should have been keeping an optic on.

"Oh I would tell you everything that is on my mind, watch the gears turn and crash as everything sinks in. Unfortunately it would cause the wrong cascade effect that I'm working towards." Lacing his talons together, Harbringer put his helm down on them. His elbows kept his servos propped up, so there wouldn't be any slip.

"A mech must keep some secrets until they are ready to be revealed. The time isn't right. And they're not all for me to share."

"Then what CAN you tell me? Why bring that topic up?" it was a sore one, and not many actually like talking about it, not even Sideswipe.

"And you seem to be holding quite a few to yourself. mech."

"Curiosity and my interest in finding a means to end Blaster's night terrors. There is only so much that can be done during the night itself." Harbringer was debating on how much he could tell without giving away Blaster's history. To say the mech would be displeased would be an understatement.

"Naturally. Some are my own. Others I've made partly known. You've just not managed to put the pieces together yet about me."

That only gets Harbringer a blank stare, before Sideswipe snorts.

"Fine, fine, if it helps Blaster...I guess it's fine." he huffed, again, as he glanced around his room again. He had no idea how it had gotten clean...well. There was one OBVIOUS answer...but...no. It wasn't possible.

"Right...thanks. I guess. If you're the one that's been keeping an optic on Blaster."

"Someone has to make sure he doesn't get over his helm in work. Not to mention letting him get a decent recharge." Harbringer's more playful and coy grin returned.

"His physical and mental health benefit me in the long run. Why else would I save him? Incidentally giving your twin a spark attack. Something I hadn't intended to do. For a medic, he isn't quite as... Hm... No medic is really hardened to things. If they are, they've quite lost what it means to be a medic."

"And apparently you're capable of this. Somehow. Among other things that no other mech can come close too." that would be suspicious coming back. He's learned to not like a look like that.

"You flatlined his patient. And pulled said patient's spark out. There really isn't any preparing for a shock like that." Sideswipe snapped, instantly coming to his brother's defense, before letting out a hard vent, "Some truth to that. But, he is just a tool for you, or something close. Isn't he?"

"I am gifted, or cursed, depending on how you'd look at it. Both are fair." Sideswipe would be good not to trust it. Even though it was how the mech usually looked.

"True... In what defense I have, it wasn't as if either of you would leave the room. You either left him with me or stayed and dealt with the consequences."

Talons lightly tapped on the table. Harbringer leaned forward with a little chuff of air. "Blaster is not a tool, nor do I see him as a mindless droid. He is a means to an end for me. So we are in a long term partnership. However long it takes to get what I want back , Sideswipe. Then the arrangement is only further cemented in. I will not lose again."

"You're strange is what you are." Sideswipe tacked on, arms folded, as he continued to watch the other with suspicion. As goofy as he could get, this was not one of those times, as he felt his friend's safety was up for grabs. And he didn't like it.

"And we stayed. Go us. You're not helping your case, at all, here."

And the red agent refused to lean back, even when instinct screamed at him to do so, "Good. At least we're clear on that. He is not a tool to be used." he growled, "You don't want to lose again, and neither do I. Blaster is my friend and I will defend him if something or some one tries to hurt him."

"You stayed because you didn't trust me. You're still here instead of getting someone else to deal with me, because you don't trust me. And as you say, you're staring me down because you don't trust me." A small shrug.

"It isn't unfounded. I've done nothing to let you put any faith into me. Except... Well..." A talon tapped on the table with each point. "I saved Blaster's life. I'm helping him recharge at night. I translated all of the tablets he had been given. I modified said tablet data so it was more coherent and easier for Blaster to understand and reply to."

Harbringer's claws stilled as a dark grin told hold of his face over Sideswipe's comment. "Oh Sideswipe... I'd frankly kill what meant any lasting harm, or held an intent to kill Blaster. I need him. Nothing except Blaster himself would keep me from doing so."

Chuckles and shakes his helm. "Ah... to feel dependent on another... Not a feeling I've had in a long time."

See this? This is Sideswipe's mental alarms increasing in volume, urgency, and heaping on a lot of 'FRAG no!' to this situation. If he hadn't thought Harbringer was a threat before, he sure as Pit did think that of him now.

"You've been here before. In our base." he wasn't going to tack on 'in Blaster's quarters' because that was obvious from when he said that hew as helping with the nightmares, but Primus above, that was not something he wanted to think about. Because what was he supposed to say to that? Harbringer had helped, if that list was true, but...his unease did not ease up at all.

"Not as often as you'd think." Just as quickly as it game, Harbringer was back to calm and casual. In fact he was even leaning on one of his servos, helm tilted into the long talons.

"I've primarily kept to the places you're aware of. I'm sure you've realized that aside from three of you, four including that goody-goody, are aware of my presence. Something I quite prefer." Small shrug. "My means of moving about unnoticed would not settle well with your security mech."

"Often enough." Harbringer is earning himself no points in Sideswipe's camp. Negative ones, maybe, but that was it. Sideswipe was not moving, still wary around the winged mech, not liking how the other spoke about Prophet or Red Alert's security.

"I have noticed. And it's not helping your case, glowstick."

There was nothing Red Alert could do about finding or stopping him. It was actually a game to try and remain undetected. When he simply didn't appear and disappear at will.

Another shrug came from Harbringer at that. "And what would even help my case? Do tell me, mech. I'm curious."

"Oh, I dunno, maybe not being such a creep for one! You are literally the definition of 'Creep!' right now!" Sideswipe snapped, moving, finally, to only sweep out an arm in a frustrated gesture.

And Red Alert felt like his audios were burning. For some strange reason...

Harbringer tilted his helm at that. For a long moment he was tempted to show Sideswipe just how far the rabbit hole that could go. Perhaps he even thought about the responses it would get.

Talons idly tapped on the table as he just sat there in silence. Once they stilled, Harbringer sat himself up in the chair. Talons brushed items on the desk aside, not knocking them over, just to the sides so a little sphere could form between his talons. An act easily passable as simply using holograms.

Within the sphere an old recording, one that had been lost to time, began to play. It was a video from Sideswipe's past. From when he was very young and with Sunstreaker on one of the occasions the two were just allowed to be youths.

From beyond the scene there was an amused chuckle from the one recording the candid moment. A sound, a voice, Sideswipe might of recognized.

Curiosity rooted him in place, as he watched the mech pull out what looked like a hologram. Somewhat. Still, he watched the winged mech, before turning his attention to the sphere.

And almost wished he hadn't.

"Our Carrier..." He recognized that chuckle. That voice. His vents stalled, optics unfocusing for a moment...

Before he jerked backwards, staggering into a wall, as he realized that there was no way for anyone to get that type of footage. None. His Carrier was long dead, her memories burned with the rest of her, and...and that was just cruel.

Not moving from the spot, nor even looking up at Sideswipe, Harbringer simply watched at the video played itself out. Only once it ended did he speak up. His voice softer yet audible.

"The past is never quite the past, Sideswipe. Memories, stories, entire lives, are recorded. An advantage to our race. What is lost doesn't have to stay lost." Frowns as a new memory appears. This one was of a young flyer, too young to properly fly, not-quite-flying in a room of stars. An only faintly audible conversation between two mechs who could never of had that conversation in this timeline.

"Not when it is something we desire to hold dear... Not when we have the chance to save it..." The memory and the sphere were dismissed with a flick of a talon. Harbringer's helm down went down onto his servos.

"Memories of your carrier are not lost, Sideswipe. Not even after all of these years." Sighs. "I can not bring the dead back to life. Only suspend when I am aware. I can catch memories when they are so strong that they linger on long after. What you saw... was one of the few strongest memories I could capture."

There was a thump from the corner where Sideswipe was, as the red agent dropped to the floor, before burying his face in his knees. He hadn't cried over what had happened in so long...but to hear her again...to be reminded, even so long afterwards, that she was never coming back...Sideswipe only vaguely saw the young flier in the hologram, before Harbringer bent under the same weight that was crushing him.

"Fine. Fine, you made your point...now. Please. Leave me alone."

A datapad was taken from someplace else, a place it wouldn't be missed, to allow Harbringer to transfer something into it. The datapad was left on the desk for Sideswipe to go through when he could move from his spot.

"What you think may of been my point, wasn't." Harbringer's optics dimmed behind his visor.

"... she would be proud of you..." With that, Harbringer was gone. Only the datapad remained. If Sideswipe ever looked at it rather than destroying it, he'd find it was full of memories of his carrier. Only happy ones of Sunstreaker and him.