#LAW ENFORCEMENT WOULD DO GOOD WITH YER

[gilverrwrites]

Can you write some more Captain boomerang, fluff head cannons I loved your last one, and really would love some more 🥺🥺🥺

Abso-friggin-loutly! Fluffy/domestic HCs P2 [P1 Here]

CWs: Jealousy, guilt tripping. None graphic mentions of unrination. Rating: General

On days off from work (I use the term work, lightly) he is such a lazy git. He’s lounging on your couch in nothing but his undies and socks, both of which are ridden with holes and thoroughly stained ‘but they’re still good tho, here, have a whiff of that’ drinking beer and watching mindless action films or guilty pleasure sit-coms. 

If you join him, he will happily spend the whole day there, unmoving until one of you has to eat or pee. 

I hope you like physical touch because he will not keep his hand off you the whole time either. Playing with your hair, stroking your skin, sneakily trying to tickle you in order to force you into a more provocative position. 

He also loves to be touched in return. Likes it when you trace your fingers over his tattoos, play with his hair. Scratch his scalp and he’ll start twitching his leg like a dog when you hit just the right spot. 

Use a pen to play dot-to-dot with his freckles and he’ll get the result tattooed permanently.

Absolutely hates doing chores, and will try just about any underhanded tactic to get out of them. 

Oh sorry, love, I forgot. I know you did ‘em yesterday, and the day before that, but I swear if you do them tonight we can do that thing you like. But you’re just soooo much better at it than I am, I always do it wrong.

No weaponised incompetence, I swear down if he fucks it up, it's because he genuinely is that dumb/has never been shown how to do it. 

Claims to be outdoorsy, but if you ever take him camping or hiking he will complain the whole time that his feet hurt (because he’s wearing inappropriate footwear) and there’s dirt on his (already filthy) coat. 

He would never admit it but he’s more reliant on his creature comforts than he lets on. 

Does, however, genuinely enjoy playing sports together, mainly footie or frisbee boomerangs. 

Can say some pretty nasty stuff during an argument. He will almost instantly regret it but is too stubborn to be the first one to apologise. Instead, he’ll do everything but say sorry until you say it first or you come to an unspoken agreement that you’ve both moved past it. 

I did the dishes, an’ I went down to that food place you like and bought back dinner. Come on babe, don’t be like that, you can’t stay mad at this face, I know ya’ can’t.

Is very much the petty jealous type, doesn’t mind you having friends/being close with people, but takes it as a personal insult when you compliment them.

Funniest person you know, I thought I was the funniest bloke you know, remember that time I made you laugh so hard your drink came out of yer nose?

I’ve got a shirt like that, you never say I look good in it. Yes, I did, I said… Oh, well I don’t remember that.

But when the shoe is on the other foot, he’s such a hypocrite, he loves it when you get jealous. Especially if he’s still stinging from his own envy, he will actively try to make you jealous. 

Loves kissing you, all the time. Got his arms wrapped around you while you’re trying to get stuff done, planting kisses up and down your neck, on any piece of skin he can reach. 

You’re not allowed to go to a different room without giving him a quick kiss before you go. Even if he isn’t in either of the rooms. 

Oi, I’ve got a bone to pick with you, you left the bedroom to get a drink and you didn’t kiss me on your way. You weren’t in the bedroom or the kitchen. Yeah, and?

He’ll take whatever kisses he can get but his favourite are the sloppy ones, tongue halfway down your throat, saliva leaking, noisy kisses. 

Brags about you constantly. Every criminal, law enforcement officer, cashier, random lady at the bus stop way more about you than they ever should. Stories are often accompanied by many candid photos of you, photos you would cringe to see if he ever revealed them to you. Man wonders why he’s so easy to find by the law, when everyone from here to Sydney knows what you look like, what you do for a living, your favourite places to eat etc. 

He also keeps polaroid pictures of you, they’re always either loose in his pockets (cause he never carries a wallet) or pinned to the wall of whatever prison cell he’s locked up in. Many of which he’s drawn on. Some doodles are pornographic but most hearts, stars, halos, and speech bubbles with illegible writing that’s supposed to say things like ‘I love you Digger’ or ‘Miss you every day’.

He doesn’t really know how to convey it but he really does cherish you.  

[yakuzacanons]

If you're still taking requests, how would the boys help out their s/o that has scars/trauma around dogs?

Such a good ask, I have a few family members that struggle with this actually so I can kinda draw from some experience here. This is a relatively short one, just because my other recent post about comforting an s/o dealing with emotional/mental shit is up and a lot of it can be cross referenced here. Headcanons below da cut.

Kazuma Kiyru

He'll ask the kids to keep Mame away from you, especially since Mame barks a lot. If you decide you want to try to overcome this fear, he'll allow it but he'll keep a watchful eye and will notice if you've hit your limit. Not mindful of scars at all, as he has plenty himself. Very big protector energy, super understanding, never judgemental.

Majima Goro

Type of idiot to say "Dontcha worry, if a dog tries to bite ya, I'll just bite it back!" which doesn't really help but at least makes you laugh. Totally isn't afraid to tell strangers if the dog they're walking is barking at you too much, saying things like "Ya gots to be mindful of other people, ya know!". As for scars, like Kiryu, he's got plenty of his own. If you ever feel self conscious, he'll once again say something silly like "Babe, if ya can love me with a whole eye missin', then ya got nothin' to worry 'bout when it comes to yer appearance! Compared to me, yer hot as hell!".

Akiyama Shun

He kind of gets nervous around dogs too. Really, he's nervous around most small animals or small children as he has zero idea what to do with them, especially when they get noisy. He empathizes with you a lot in this aspect. Out of all the boys, it is easiest to confide your fears or trauma with Akiyama as he shares a similar mindset, even if he doesn't have personal trauma around dogs. Type of guy to wrap his arm around your shoulder if you're walking by a particularly aggressive dog while saying "Just keep walking, I'm right here, okay?".

Tanimura Masayoshi

Has never had a pet in his life and honestly never wanted one. Since he's a cop, he's good at enforcing neighborhood laws like owners having to scoop their dog's poop, so most of the pet owners in the area are pretty up to snuff. You won't have to worry about a rogue dog getting aggressive out of the blue. Type of sweet baby boy to kiss your scars when you get upset about them and say "There, all better now!".

Saejima Taiga

Has a really good connection with animals so they don't actually get super aggressive around him. Maybe it's because he's built like a tank. Either way, he's really understanding and is the type of guy to stand between you and a dog when you're on a walk, keeping the dog out of view, so you can cross the street and feel safe, all the while saying things like "Don't worry, I gotcha". He's super neutral on having pets so you never have to worry about him wanting to bring a puppy back home one day.

Ryuji Goda

Biggest dog person out of all the boys so he will want a dog someday. However, he would never make any important life decisions without talking to his partner first and he would make sure you felt safe and prepared if he really wanted to bring a dog into the family. Most likely to actually help you overcome the fear by slowly getting you to interact with dogs, as he really likes pets and frequents pet cafes. He'll show you how to approach them, how to read their body language, and the like, all while saying "See, sometimes they're just as scared as ya, but they ain't all bad." Ryuji would rather see you learn to overcome your fears than try to blindly shield you from them.

Nishikiyama Akira

He is ALSO actually scared of dogs. Just looks really shocked if one starts barking loudly at him and then just sneaks away. He'll comfort you by jokingly say "We survived that dog encounter", allowing you both to laugh about it in hindsight. Truthfully, he's kind of sheepish that he gets skittish around loud or big dogs so it's nice that you both can understand each other without feeling like you have to reason with each other or explain it over and over again.

Daigo Dojima

He's actually a cat person. He's not afraid of dogs but he's kind of sensitive to loud noises so when he hears a lot of dogs barking, he gets frustrated or annoyed. If you have particularly bad trauma with dogs, he'll enforce a no-dogs-allowed-on-Tojo-Clan-property rule. He takes a private car most places so you don't have to worry much about public interactions with dogs. Also the type of guy to kiss your scars but instead of saying they're all better, he'll say "I love every single part of you. Even your scars".

Mine Yoshitaka

Ever the fearless lad, Mine would probably bark back at a loud dog to make you smile before saying "I gave that dog a good talking to, he won't be bothering you" which only makes the two of you giggle. Glares at people who let their dogs wander around freely, as he thinks it's a public nuisance and not helpful for anyone. If you guys run into a dog on a walk out and you start to panic, he'll say "Let's take a detour and take the long way home." and he would never judge you for feeling anxious. Very good at removing you from situations of stress.

[sangelune]

   the  wild  west  sure  as  hell  ain't  forgivin'  -  and  it's  very  unforgivin'  for  one  born  a  girl.  joan  mactavish  learned  that  through  the  way  the  town  looked  at  her  when  she  walked  in,  hefting  things  from  the  mactavish  ranch.  they  didn't  like  when  they  saw  her  out  wranglin'  the  cattle.  seems  the  little  girl  had  some  mismatched  dreams  about  being  a  cowboy.  too  bad  she  lacked  the  boy  part. 

   she  had  many  a  suitor  at  her  door,  trying  to  tame  the  wild  lass.  she  turned  them  all  down.  time  and  time  again.  showing  no  interest.  she  wasn't  going  to  settle  with  any  old  guy.  she  needed  one  who  understood  and  accepted  her.  challenged  her.  they'd  never  make  her  complacent.  never  tie  her  down  and  make  her  a  pretty  trophy  to  keep  locked  away.  she  was  wild.  she  was  free.  she  loved  the  ranch  life,  the  excitement. 

   and  then  it  all  came  to  an  abrupt  sudden  end. 

   one  night  was  all  it  took  for  her  whole  family  to  be  massacred.  she  hid.  it's  the  only  reason  she  lived.  survivor's  guilt  wells  up  in  her  chest  -  but  not  as  bad  as  the  rage  did.  the  rage  when  law  enforcement  didn't  even  try.  they  didn't  chase  the  bandits.  “long  gone  out  our  jurisdiction  by  now,  miss  mactavish.  might  be  best  for  ya  ta  settle  with  one  of  them  suitors  of  yers.” 

   hell  fucking  no. 

   the  spark  she  carried  ignited  into  a  raging  uncontainable  wildfire.  the  little  lass  was  expected  to  sit  down  and  be  demure?  wed  a  man  who  wouldn't  even  care  about  what  she  wanted?  just  accept  she  won't  see  justice?  no.  hell  fucking  no.  if  it  was  a  man's  world  and  it  took  a  man  to  hunt  outlaws  -  then  joan  mactavish  would  just  have  to  hang  up  the  skirts  and  pick  up  the  chaps. 

   it  took  her  a  while  to  get  the  hang  of  passing  -  but  once  she  did?  he  walked  the  world  as  john  mactavish.  a  disasterous  man  to  come  across,  one  with  an  adoration  of  explosives  and  an  unhealthy  amount  of  sheer  luck.  always  doing  the  dangerous  stunts,  as  if  he  didn't  fear  death.  (when  your  home  and  family  are  no  longer  in  this  world  but  the  next  -  why  fear  dying)  he  gained  the  moniker  of  ‘good  ol’  johnny  boy'  -  a  name  he  often  proclaimed  when  announcing  himself.  it  really  did  stick.  not  that  he  minds. 

   he's  not  prejudiced  against  who  he  hunts.  whether  they  be  outlaws  or  lawmen.  if  the  lawmen  ain't  doing  their  job,  johnny  comes  for  them.  if  the  outlaws  are  hurting  families,  women  and  children?  johnny  comes  for  them.  he's  been  known  to  root  out  corrupt  townships,  take  their  cash,  and  leave  with  it.  just  to  spread  it  to  the  poor.  give  them  a  fightin'  chance.  he's  a  free  fuckin'  spirit  and  will  do  as  he  pleases. 

   even  with  a  hefty  bounty  resting  on  his  skull. 

   and  a  massive  secret  to  keep  -  how  would  the  world  react  if  they  found  out  it  wasn't  johnny  boy  but  wee  lassie  joan? 

[thenixkat]

the millennium (i can't spell that word) project is literally a eugenics program that the Oans want to run on Earth to evolve/improve humans

the heroes are for it b/c they respect the authority of the oans for some fucking reason

also choosing 10 people as the starting breeders for yer eugenics program is uh… a rather small number

like really fucking small for 'advancing' the whole species

and they don't even guarantee that the whole 10 people they chose are alive and all have corporeal bodies by the time the New Guardians start

also, they didn't ask the people of Earth first if humanity would like to be groomed into future space police

they don't even pick people who are all open to the idea of being part of a eugenics breeding program, they're just picking fuckers based on their genes. And they very much arent explaining it as a eugenics program when it is when you look at the New Guardian's mission statement

but the heroes are cool with this. Cool with the idea of Earth becoming a future home of the Guardians b/c the space police are on the side of the good guys so their backers must be ok too

yeah, the Oans aren't telling people that the advancement of the human race means a fucking eugenics program which is slightly better than fuckers knowing. Also, fuckers are using scare tactics to get the folks they want in the breeding program who aren't interested in 'advancing the human race'

ALso love how racist DC is about Asians in its comics at all times. Just constantly especially in the 80s. And the 60s. And in 1999...

…i don't believe that the governments of Earth recognize the authority of the Green Lantern Corps as, like, a legitimate law enforcement agency from space. Pretty sure everyone just thinks about them as superheroes ie costumed vigilantes but ok

heheheeh. Ted thinks Lt Fisher who's been blackmailing him is with the Manhunters blackmailing superheroes in general and came to his office to beat his ass

Ted even if Lt Fisher isn't a Manhunter you should still beat his ass for blackmailing you.

I wanna see more of Ted beating the shit out of cops. It's wonderful, he should get to do it more often

Ted backhands Lt Fisher almost across the damn room. I love it. Let Ted fight more cops!

Yes, Ted, you should have just beat Lt Fisher's ass and told him to go fuck himself the first time he tried to blackmail you. If he's gonna do a criminal act to force you to do dirty work for the police, there's nothing stopping you from beating his ass like any other criminal

also, some of this is plot stuff relevant to Ted's solo run and referenced in it, I just don't like doing supplemental reading for a story. B/c if it was important it would have been included in the main story

so normal human-looking lady and the smurf are both oans just different sexes. b/c we couldn't have sexy smurf ladies i guess

Why did the Oans pick an explicitly racist White South African for their eugenics program to 'advance the human race'?

they also picked a gay man for their eugenics breeding program. I guess they're hoping he runs into transdudes who want to be bred?

This eugenics program is a bit slapdash and I can see all the reasons it failed

i guess that's what happens when yer sexes have been living apart for billions of years and they likely use machines to breed

they also picked a man for their eugenics program who has a wife and kids, and told him to leave his family to join their project…

if yall want him for his genes and shit... he could fuck his wife? and make more kids?

[sliptohk]

Prompt #3: Clash

Qata would vehemently deny that it was her fault.

Yes, she had been paying no attention to her surroundings while traversing the back alleys of Ul'dah. Yes, she had been asking about for odd ingredients that were far more expensive within the city than outside it. Yes, clearly both those questions and her presentation made the sharp-eared scoundrels of the city take her for a wealthy, lost, and utterly helpless traveler within the city.

That last bit was only partially true.

But it was still decidedly not her fault. Surely this was an inevitability, not a situation that even the most bare modicum of foresight could have prevented. There had been such stern warnings about outsiders well before she had been forced to depart the Shroud with her sister in pursuit of the wayward Lohro. Repeated condemnations of their heretical behavior! Not to mention the lengths to which they would go to exterminate any that dared stand against their rigid views of acceptable behavior. The collection of rogues currently waylaying her may not have been a part of the official law enforcement branch of the city, but clearly they were to blame for not keeping a heavier hand on them.

Yes, it was entirely the fault of Ul'dah and not herself.

"Yet sadly, I must deal with it."

The comment earned her a wary look, or perhaps some of her preceding thoughts had slipped out when she thought it was relegated strictly to internal musing. It was difficult to recall, particularly with such copious amounts of toxin currently flowing through her veins from the self-dosage she had indulged in before departing the inn room.

"Pardon, but when did my mouth start making words at you?"

She held up a single finger for attention as she spoke. An unnecessary call for attention given two city-dwellers were focused on her, while a third looked cautiously back out the mouth of the alley they had dragged her down. It seemed entirely unnecessary, as she was fairly certain no one of any true virtue would be stalking those streets in search of ruffians to… do whatever it was they did to scoundrels in such a city.

"Ragamuffins." That was another good name for them. "I mean you, but that is a discussion for another time. What were we speaking about?"

The thought that she might be speaking and moving at a far quicker clip than normal formed in her mind. At least in terms of perception, given the potency of the mixture she had taken. Thinking back on it muddily, as clarity was a distant hope in her current state, she did recall that one of the effects had always been a mind that worked faster. Just only in the literal sense, as it tended to simply blow past thought, reason, and general awareness in exchange for that impressive speed.

Finally, they spoke. A slow, unhurried, and frustratingly slurred rate, "Give us yer purse, ya daft couerl!"

Baffling. She was of the Ooja, the couerl were an entirely different group. Certainly not one that any self-respecting Keeper would associate themselves with. And she was nothing if not self-respecting. She wiped a bit of drool that had been running down the side of her mouth, not quite bruising her jaw when the back of her hands smacked against it faster than intended.

Enhanced salivary production. Was this another result of that mixture? Probably.

"I would rather not." She replied sincerely, and at what was most likely near a hummingbird speed of communication.

Speed would certainly be of great use when dealing with villains, especially when they thrust one empty hand out to grab Qata's neck in a rough squeeze, battering it hard enough against the wall behind her to bounce off the hard stone. If she were any sort of warrior it probably would have been, but by the time her addled mind registered that the sluggish movement was actually an assault on her person there was already the hard, warm press of the home behind her.

Or a business. She should not simply assume it were a living space.

"Coin or blood, lass! Don't make it difficult fer yerself!"

Qata raised both hands to grip the wrist and forearm of the hyur pushing her backward, forcing her up on the tips of her toes rudely in the process. The Ooja curled her fingers inward and pressed hard. It was difficult to get a word out while being strangled, but the moment had gone beyond words. Fingernails coated in a dark, green sheen poked deep enough to draw blood, the carefully applied toxins mixing predictably into a faint, sickly froth, as it sped along through the veins. Deadening nerves as it circulated.

A faster process would have been preferable, but something about beggars and choosing came to mind. The miqo'te contented herself instead with dropping down to all fours when he released that grip. Or was forced to relax it. Semantics. Not something she had time to concern herself with as fighting back in any fashion was clearly against whatever social code the people of Ul'dah lived by! A trail of sparks screeched across the wall she had once stood before when the thief lashed out with his blade mere moments after she had already dropped.

Skittering between his legs like a spider, though without any sort of dignity one of them may have possessed in the process, Qata took the time to slash a calf in passing. Not quite so potent a dose as it had already begun to transform into a different state with the addition of blood, but it could hardly hurt. Outside of the obvious pain of that shallow cutting. It was a temporary indulgence that nearly saw her splattered like a spider, when one of the man's associates leapt into action and slammed down a heavy boot mere ilms from where her head had once been.

"Get 'er Mendyn! Wuotahl!"

Being smaller made it much easier to take advantage of that cluttered alley, the poisoner creeping beneath one broken cart fast as could be. Just fast enough, as the clang of ringing steel announced an axe-head smashing the cobblestone behind her. The wood did not clang when the following blows smashed it to kindling with hearty swings. It was a good thing she was already moving past, bouncing up to her feet and lifting her skirts with bloodied hands.

All the better to break into a respectable scamper toward the far end of the passage.

It was unfortunate that they had longer legs, even with the mess slowing them to some degree. Particularly when it seemed they remembered they could simply leap over the smaller obstacles rather than smashing their way through. Sparing a backwards glance, Qata found that distance not nearly comforting enough. They were assuredly far closer than they appeared given the way the her current perception of time was so skewed.

Luckily, the Mother would provide, as a narrow window opened to the alley! Less opened, and more rotted adjacent to, as it was clear the shutters would fail to stop even her slight weight. Lowering a shoulder, the mage bounced up off a partially splintered crate to plow headfirst through instead when the foothold proved far less solid than expected. She really ought to have expected less given the state of that box. But at least the denizens of that home seemed stunned by her presence, and not immediately infuriated as the ravening duo behind her seemed to be as they reached through to try and snatch at any bit of body or clothing they could manage.

"Let that be a lesson, outsiders! The Ooja are not to be trifled with!" There was a knot forming on her forehead where it collided with the floor. It may have ruined the moment.

"Hunt ya down an' gut ya fer this, rat! Ain't nowhere t'scurry off to!"

Waving dismissively, and finding herself thankful they had not thrown her kneejerk label of 'outsider' back into her own face, the poisoner strode toward the door leading out of that abode, "Yes, yes, go tend to your friend! They will probably be all right so long as they do not have any unanticipated health conditions I am unaware of!"

"Mendyn, we can get 'round the block over there!"

Hiking up her skirts, Qata commenced her high speed scurrying once more. More than eager to get herself out of there before they actually managed to circle about again. At least it would make for an excellent war story for Zahrah! Or on second thought, she would likely pinch her ears for ending up the situation. It was a tale she must absolute remember never to tell her sister.

[ducknotinarow]

[2k7Rasey]

After Summer had disappeared to her room, Casey gave a defeated sigh, shoulders slumping as the backbone he just grew disintegrated there and then. He hated having to be the 'bad parent', the mean one. But it was a necessary evil sadly. Still didn't stop him from looking at Raph with a pleading gaze,

"Yer don't think I was t' hard on her, d' yer?"

| Muse interaction contained from [ here ]

Summer was a spitfire that much was all well known when it came to Casey and Raphael’s daughter it shouldn’t be a surprise though considering she was raised by two very well known men with tempers themselves. Heck the reason they met was because Raph could see Casey had just as much of an anger problem that he did. So, it only made sense that Summer herself could have one herself. Summer wasn’t exactly a bad kid but in terms of schooling well guess she was painted that way. Sometimes she skipped out on classes, or didn’t turn in assignments usually because she didn’t complete them. School was just not her favorite thing she had some classes she liked and of course, sh went to them and even did the work but the ones she didn’t like? Yeah and it seemed the issue was starting to become worse and worse as time only went on. Casey, had made mentions about the emails he was getting from Summer’s school. At first it was just teachers telling Casey summer had ‘unexcused absences’ which only got him to sigh. Raph had no real idea what it meant but took the answers Casey gave when he explained but it was hard not to notice the tone in Casey’s voice. The emails only escalated from there soon the school office was sending ‘warnings’ to Casey’s email as the skipping and absence were getting worse and worse. And then it got even more troubling when Casey got a direct email from the school’s principal and that seemed to make it all the worse. Raph didn’t truly follow a lot of what was in the email, they had sent over some attachment? Referred to as being an attendance contact. This was meant to be a final warning? Of this didn’t sound good in the slightest. Guess if Summer kept skipping her classes after this final chance then they would be speaking with some guy called Superintended who would serve the family with a written notice? And from there they would get law enforcement involved and take them to court over the matter?

Yeah, the mutant turtle was bound to not understand a lot of what was going on here in all the emails, but he figures if cops and courts are getting involved then the issue is well getting worse and worse. And it was clearly starting to weigh on Casey more and more. Casey couldn’t let this all keep going because the issue was only going to become worse if well something wasn’t done. Summer was a bit of a rebellious free spirit but at this rate Summer was likely to go down some paths that neither of them ever wanted t see her go. Casey knew troubled kids and how one mistake can make a kid think they are bad and should just be bad. Heck Angel went and joined a gang when she was around this age. Part of Raph had to wonder if Summer learning about where she came from had anything to do with this recent string of acting out. But, hey cunt them lucky that it was just this she seemed to be getting herself into trouble for. Casey really didn’t want to be the one in the situation but he took it on himself to be so anyway, he knew he had to nip the issue in the butt. And he did.

But man did this blow up more than he feels any of them had expected it to. Raphael stayed seated on the couch and watched them go back and forth as Casey brought up the skipping issue and Summer went and grew defensive. Defending her stance on classes being boring or the teachers being the issue and so on and so forth. Anything that didn’t really come down to the real issue at hand here. But Casey didn’t bend on his stance as he stood his ground. Summer wasn’t one to really fight with them she was a good kid over all. Sure she made messes and snuck out even but she never got mixed up into anything bad. She listened to her Dad’s and did as told not today it seemed. But, no matter the frustrations that showed over Casey’s face did he once raise his voice. He got stern as he spoke but he clearly was keeping a mental check on his own temper.

Raphael let Casey take the lead as he went on to make his last ditch effort, easily catching the sadness in his voice when he tried to explain to Summer WHY this was an issue. They could very easily take her away from her home. However, Summer didn’t seem to catch the sad tone in his voice. Huffing and rolling her eyes at Casey. Raph knew those moves, he was a teen with a lot of attitude and he knows he rolled his eyes a lot towards his own Dad when ever he was told something he didn’t like. Teenagers can be like that, still a kid but feeling like they shouldn’t be treated as one nearly an adult in their own eyes and such and able to make their own choices but always felt they were wrong and told they made the wrong ones. But Summer did push Casey with her spell of attitude as she on tossed out she hoped the opposing team would beat the Rangers. Clearly wanting to get back at Casey for well trying to be. Good Dad here and seemed Casey had enough if Summer wasn’t going to listen? Then she was going to be grounded.

Raphael wasn’t sure who among the three of them was the most taken aback by it all though. Summer when hearing she was going to be grounded for two weeks only for it to be extended every time she dared to open her mouth. Two weeks became three and soon three and then a fourth was threatened and finally Summer seemed to understand. Casey was being serious here she was in actual trouble here and if she kept to her defiance she was looking at a year long band on hockey all together. Hey she went for his love for the sport so he went for her own. Raphael was a bit okay more than a bit impressed, when it came to Summer Casey could be nothing more than a big giant marshmallow who bent over backwards for his daughter. Summer could get away with well nearly anything and Casey would simply just act as if he never saw her do anything wrong. Hell even murder was on the table.

Summer kept her mouth shut the second Casey sentenced her to five weeks. Heck Raph wouldn’t be surprised if Casey jumped to months and skipped weeks altogether but I seemed to get through Summer as she narrowed her eyes but kept her mouth shut not even sighing out or grumbling under her breath a she moved up from her seat and made her way out the living towards her bed room. Nothing but silence filled the space heck even the announcers for the game seemed to break the silence settling over them all. Raphael sat mouth agape slightly blinking pure shock he near expected Casey to cave in and give in make another plea to reach Summers better senses but nope. He didn’t break for a second his face was set in stone and his feet were planted even as he watched Summer get up from the couch and leave to make her way to her bedroom. Least till they heard her door slam shut.

Casey’s face fell as he let out a long drawn out sigh, his shoulders slumped no longer held up right in a tight locked and square motion no different then when he was ready for a fight. Seemed the backbone that his marshmallow man grew in that moment was only temporary as he fell back on the couch beside Raphael. The turtle offering Casey a faint sympathetic fueled grin towards his husband. Long blue hair spilled over the couch as they turned to look over to him and their face said it all before Casey could eve voice it. Eyes full wide and full of regret and pain, mouth curved down weighed by their soft tender heart. Casey's pleaded with the look on his face alone towards Raphael.

"Yer don't think I was t' hard on her, d' yer?"

It tool everything in him not to laugh over that. Cause he knew that was the tough test fight Casey ever been through. He's gone uo against Purple Dragons, Bishop, a few foot ninjas and karai. Heck against his brothers when they all got brainwashed for a time even. But having to put his foot down and ground thier lottle summer child was clearly the worst fight Casey ever went through. Couldn't even enjoy the win he got in the end. Raph just moved in closer slipping one arm around thoer lowered shoulders. And letting the other curl around their midsection. Tugging the poor defeated man his way.

"Nah, ya weren' to harsh on her Case." Raphael goes to say trying to reassure them over the fact. Keeping Casey in close to him as he freed lifted his hand up to gently pet over thier hair slowly letting digits thread through the dark blue locks of hair.

"Jus' had a show some tough love 'hat's all. Ain't gonna make ya a bad parent. Jus' part of havin' a teen. Especially one with the attitude our kids got on her." Gently petting over the back of Casey's hair as he speaks on leaning over now to give his poor, sad, and pathetic looking man a small little peck to their forehead. "I betcha ma wouldn' let cha get away with to much herself after all 'ight?" Raph asks, playing to the fact Casey was a massive mama's boy and likely listened to her. If she said it was bed time he's sure casey trotted off to bed.

"An' that women is frice an' I knkw ain't no one goin' go against her not even her big own mama's boy son." Raphael adds in "sides Spliter was always on me and my brothers when we acted out to even Leo." And Raphael's knows for certien no one would claim splinter to be a bad parent himself.

"Hey," moving to idly tap his forhead to Casey's so he knows for sure he has their attention. "Ya a great dad Case. Ya care about Summer's future. An' wanna make sure she has and dose betta than you. Your head might jus' be for decoration but Summers? Well be better if she learns to use her so she ain't as empty skilled as either of us can be." Another soft kiss set tonthe end of Casey nose now. "She'll be mad sure but she'll get over it too. An' then she'll be out her watching hockey again. Cause she got the best guy lookin' out fir her and helpin' set her straight. I should know, ya did it for me plenty of times after all." Raph admits smiling just a bit more before he pulls his face away to look at the TV. "Come on now chill and watch the Rangers kick the Aves asses tonight."

[mjm5655]

this was a feisty one for someone who claimed to be a mere civilian. what was it this young man didn't get ? he was the son of a former chairman to a clan, it really wouldn't matter how far he ran from it, the yakuza would always be part of his life. majima just had to think of kiryu as an example really. dude had long left the tojo clan now, & yet, he kept being dragged into whatever drama was beating away at them. daigo was another example, kid ran off when his dad was killed, became a thug, it was actually kiryu that convinced the kid to come back, & even encouraged him to become the new chairman of all things. it was ridiculous in idea, but it somehow worked out well.

❝ yer dad had friends, did he ? sure he did, but kid ... ❞

it was clear as day the other didn't know who he was actually talking to, what majima's reputation was in this world, he's had to have heard of him at some point, right ? the tojo clan's reigning force, right hand man to the chairman. aggressive as all hell, known to some as the mad dog. majima had several thousand men under him, & a good portion of those men sworn their lives to him, that they would die for him ; majima really found it hard to care about threats sent his way.

❝ ya really have no idea who yer dealin' with here, do ya ? ❞

why was the car not moving ? fucker on the wheel doing hell knows what as they sat in there, & had a chat, majima reached forward, placing a hand upon the back of the drivers seat, with a force, slightly pulling it back as he told the other to hurry up, & drive. the man that was on the wheel did as he was told nearly right away, if that wasn't a message to the young man he had in the car with him, he didn't know what. he could see from the car mirror the driver was literally sweating as he had found he had angered his boss with his tardiness.

❝ if the way that fucker isn't near wettin' himself doesn't tell ya anything 'bout me kiddo, i dunno what will. ❞

majima allowed himself to sit back in his seat again, the passing street lights causing a minor irritation to his one eye as they shined into the car. he took out a cigarette, & began to smoke it as he opened the window ever so lightly so that the smoke wouldn't build up within the car. he did decide to offer the other one, it was just out of habit at this point really, it was up to the other if he wanted to take.

❝ name's majima, if ya haven't heard o' me, or at least my family, then honestly, yer head's been under a fuckin' rock, kid. ❞

even regular civilians had heard of majima at one point or another, conflicts with the law enforcement, conflicts with other yakuza, just the man himself, & the way he paraded around kamurocho as if he owned the damned place.

whilst they were concerned with what izunia was doing in the lucis caelum clan, the tojo clan was still one of the strongest, & it was for most part to do with majima in that reason. if the tojo clan didn't have majima & his family backing it, it would definitely not be long of crashing down. he was as targeted if not more so than daigo was.

Noctis scoffed but he kept his mouth shut. He didn't think the man would kill him since he seemed to want information about Ardyn, but he wasn't about to stake his life on it. There were plenty of ways to hurt him without killing him, after all and Noctis was smart enough not to mess with Yakuza. If Ardyn was causing problems for the Tojo Clan, being the son of the former chairman probably wasn't something that would work in his favour right now. If anything, it might make them want to hurt him more to send a message.

There were two reasons he'd allowed Ardyn to take over. The first had been his fear of having so much responsibility – of having people not taking him seriously because of his age and inexperience. The second was more personal though. Life as yakuza was what got his father killed and Noctis wanted to stay as far away from it as possible. It seemed it wasn't that easy though. Even though he wasn't an official member, it was something that would always follow him.

"The hell is your problem, man? I already told you I don't know shit." He grunted as the man roughly took hold of his arm to keep him from going anywhere. He was really starting to regret skipping out on so many of Cor's self defence classes. If he could just slip away, he could call Cor and the man would come get him or at the very least, he'd know something was wrong. He didn't think he'd be given the chance to even reach for his phone, let alone use it. "I'm practically a civilian. This is between you and Ardyn, so just back off and leave me out of it, yeah?"

There it was again – another example of being unable to escape this life. Noctis had done nothing wrong. He'd been living a normal, law-abiding life, yet he was about to become a hostage just because he was important to the Lucis Caelum Clan. It didn't seem to matter that he wasn't an official member, nor that he didn't know anything.

"Is that supposed to reassure me?" Considering the guy had almost choked him to death a few minutes ago, he didn't exactly trust him when he said he took care of his hostages. What happened if they couldn't use him to draw Ardyn out? He'd just taken over as chairman, so would he really risk all of that just to save him? Noctis liked to think he would, but in reality, he wasn't so sure. What would happen to him then? If his usefulness ran out, would they let him go or would they kill him to send a message?

He let out a soft huff as he was led down the street by the arm. There weren't all that many people about at this time of night, but even if there had been, nobody would want to interfere with yakuza business. Within a matter of minutes he was shoved into the back of a car. His first thought was to check the door he was up against, but it was locked and when his kidnapper slid into the seat next to him, he was completely trapped.

"Do you really wanna do this? I might not be yakuza myself, but my dad had friends who'll be real pissed if you mess with me."

Ardyn might not do much in his new position, but Clarus and Cor would be on a warpath.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Villain: Captain Barrgo Dyer, head of the Civil Guard 

“The Masters o’ this city have left the task of keepin the peace, an’ I’ll more n happily break yer yapping jaw rather than let any of your caterwauling trouble their ears. Am I understood, gutterskum?“

Setup:  Despite presenting themselves as defenders of law and order, Captain Dyer and his “Civs” are perhaps one of the largest criminal organizations at work in the city today, squeezing the populace for coin with one hand while cracking skulls with the other. 

Originally intended to be a stop-gap measure after a series of disastrous grain shortages led to riots and fires across the city’s wards, the civil guards were made a permanent fixture of city infrastructure almost twenty years ago, replacing the patchwork of neighborhood watch organizations and mutual protection pacts that dealt with crime and disruption since. Where as those groups had been loyal to their communities, the Civs were loyal only to the nobles and guilds who paid into their charter, and had no qualms about enforcing peace at spearpoint. 

Taking eagerly to being a blunt instrument for uncaring overlords, Barrgo ascended up the ranks and secured his place as Captain of the Guard, and has since used his position and the resources granted to him by it to turn the city into one large protection racket.  Every law enforcement agency takes bribes to look the other way on occasion, but Barrgo’s ambitions were larger: squeezing neighborhoods and individual merchants for “donations” while feeding information to his criminal contacts about who was and wasn’t under his force’s protection. He also changed the entire ecosystem of crime within the city, allowing specific illegal enterprises to pay for his lenience, while at the same time sending him after their competitors. Years of this “bidding war” have seen Barrgo become a rich man, and an unofficial kingpin of the city’s underworld, with all but the most minor crime or graft requiring his approval. 

Adventure Hooks: 

The Status Quo suits the Captain just fine, and he vigorously opposes any force or actor that would seek to disrupt it, even if they might have the city’s best interests at heart. Should the party go about warning the populace of a looming threat or even trying to solve a crime on their own, it’s very likely they’ll be getting a visit from a number of armored thugs intending to intimidate them into silence.  This “intimidation” can escalate to full on beatings and abduction if the party crosses one of the nobles or guilds who pays into Barrgo’s charter, making him a great secondary villain alongside aristocratic antagonists to good to do their own dirtywork

While each Civil garrison has its own lockup, real troublemakers get tossed in the Shitpit: the Guard’s clandestine prison operated without the city’s oversight, and converted from an old Cistern. The party is likely to find one or all of their number in the Pit should they offend Barrgo personally, or if they happen to need the services or knowledge of someone who did. 

Defeating Barrgo is easier said than done, as exposing his criminal enterprise or outright killing the man doesn’t stop the system of thuggery and corruption he’s built up around him. If the party truly wishes to abolish the Civil guard, and prevent the rise of a new Captian Dyer, they’ll need to rally the populace and petition the city’s rulers, replacing the Guard with a a system with more oversight and accountability built direclty into it. 

Further Adventures: 

Converted from a disused cistern and surrounding tunnels, the Pit has only one entrance or exit, a hole in the central ceiling that requires prisoners and supplies to be hoisted in and out.  Criminals and vagrants are left to fight over whatever hiding space they can find and whatever supplies they can snatch away from the others. When the Civs want something from their prisoners ( such as a specific individual to come back up) they simply withhold food for a couple days, and have no qualms about letting the whole group starve to death in order to “clear out” a troublesome back of captives.  Repeated starveouts have given rise to a nest of ghouls that dwell within the darkest corner of the shitpit, preying on weak or unwary prisoners. 

The oldest prisoners of the pit tell tales of a darkened doorway that appears where you least expect it, and those fool individuals who have walked through it and never returned. Is this a miraculous escape? or a portal to an even worse prison in the underdark or shadowfell? 

One of Captain Dyer’s greatest frustrations was a thief by the name of Lyle Latch, who stole a fortune in jewls and gold over the years before falling into the Captain’s custody. Even under torture, Latch wouldn’t reveal where he’d hidden his treasures, so the Captain threw him into the Shitpit in order to see if darkness would loosen his tongue. After three months, Lyle was hauled out, delirious and dying from infection, and was yet again questioned by the Captain.  Lyle laughed , saying “ I left you a map, why don’t you jump down and find it out for yourself?” before spitting in Barrgo’s face and dying on the spot. Ever since, the Captain has been obsessed with the map, offering any prisoner who brings it to him a chance to walk free, no matter their crime. 

[dannyphannypack]

WHERES THE REST. WHERES THE REST. I. THE REST.

Rejection Letter

Summary:   Even after fighting ghosts, it’s the human failures that hurt Danny the worst. Unfortunately for him, he’s not the only one who didn’t get accepted to college. Post D-Stabilized, ignores Phantom Planet.

Other notes:  In this AU each season took a separate year of high school, so D-Stabilized happened in junior year, and this takes place a little less than a year later.  

(Part 1 of 2)

(Read on AO3 | FFN)

Dear Daniel,

The admissions committee has reviewed your application for admission for the fall of 2008.  I regret to inform you that we are unable to offer you admission to Elmerton Community College and that we will not be holding reapplications this term.  Please be assured that we gave your application a very careful review before making this difficult decision.

I regret to inform you… We are unable to offer you admission…

We will not be holding reapplications…

A drop of water stained the already-crumpled rejection letter.  That didn’t stop him from crumpling it again, with all the force of his Phantom form.  He could have incinerated it with a weak ectoblast - or a strong one - but he shouldn’t draw attention to himself.  He wasn’t expecting any ghosts after catching Skulker in a thermos this afternoon, but there could always be some dumb humans out.  Stupid “paranormal investigators,” making stupid documentaries no one outside the city would even believe.  He didn’t want anyone like that finding his hiding place at the top of the park’s tallest aspen.  Especially now.

We are unable…

He grit his teeth and smeared the back of his gloved hand across his eyes.  What had he expected?  His grades hadn’t exactly been stellar all of high school.  And it wasn’t like he could include “classified as a spectral entity level seven,” “saved Amity Park from being sucked into another dimension,” or “can walk through walls, disappear, and fly” on his college application.  

His future had been shot from the moment he stepped out of that portal.  Why had he wasted four years pretending otherwise?

Keep reading

[thecat-inthehat]

8. Adroit

I apologize for my atrocious attempt at Limsan thieves’ cant. This is gonna be a bit rough, I’m still finding my voice/footing for Aiden’s character in writing. CW for mentions of drug use and addiction.

(1666 words) [Masterpost]

---

Aiden Ware sat on a crate on the docks, slowly chewing on a piece of hardtack as he tried to figure out what to do. One of the sailors had given it to him after witnessing his inability to keep anything down, and the bland bread was probably the best for his stomach at the moment. He had never gone on so much as a canoe on a river before finding a ship that was headed to Limsa Lominsa, and hadn't realized it would take so much out of him. He probably had lost about ten ponzes on the journey here, and he wasn’t thrilled at his chances of trying to gain it back. Then again, food seemed a little more plentiful here than at home, so… 

He had little and less in the way of supplies, no earthly clue about the layout of the city at all, and no idea what half the people here were even saying. He thought it was Eorzean. Maybe. The man on the ship had been nice enough to answer a few questions, but Aiden didn’t think the kindness would extend to a town full of pirates and pirate-adjacents. At least with the Knights back home he knew how to handle them -- here he couldn’t tell a Pirate from the law enforcement. 

“Quiet! D’ye want to get caught?” A rough voice hissed somewhere behind him, making his ear twitch slightly. He tilted his head and chewed some more on the hardtack, and silently cast a spell to let him hear a bit better.

Two voices filtered into his ears, a gruff clip, and a smoother tenor. 

“Sorry, sorry!” The tenor said, giving a little sigh. “The package will be in the hawker��s alley until noon, by the weather vale.” 

“Good.” Gruff snapped, and there was the sound of the gruff person shaking the tenor. “If ye cheat us again for your own gamblin problems, it’ll be the least of yer worries.” 

“It’s not my fault, I--” 

“Spare me! Ye gambled yer life away, lost yer child n’ wife, and then started sellin’ spice to fund yer habits. I’d have just killed ye meself if me brother weren’t addicted to the stuff.” Gruff said, and there was a slapping sound. 

“Alright, alright!” Tenor whined, and shook themselves. “I’m sorry about your brother, really I am, but I had to make a sale--” 

“Shut yer mouth, and just give me back the money. Tch, parasite.” 

Aiden finished his hardtack and stood up, starting to walk away. He angled himself to catch a glimpse of the two speakers, a rougher looking lalafell in green, and a hyur with nicer clothes. Now he knew who to circle back to. 

As he walked, he let loose his hair then went to pull it up again, folding his pointed ears back underneath the strands of hair and tie it at the nape of his neck. It wasn’t perfect, but a slightly strange hairstyle that covered his ears wouldn’t be as noticeable as his half-elezen heritage. Hilda was lucky, he mused, she got the ears that pointed up, while his stuck out like most of the elezen he’d met. It just took her a hood to hide if she needed, and he had to make his ears uncomfortable. 

The chatter of the marketplace washed over him, with people hawking their wares and shouting as they bartered. He walked at a fast clip through the alley, dodging merchants and buyers and knowing better than to look as though he was gawking. If he acted like he knew what he was doing, then no one would question it. 

Gruff probably wouldn’t go and grab the package immediately, wanting to avoid suspicion and likely would wait another bell or so. More than enough time for him to grab what he needed. He spotted the weather vane easily enough, and a package sitting underneath. A quick stride over to grab it, and he was walking through the paths to the upper level in a minute or so. 

The package felt a little light, admittedly, and he frowned a tad as he went to open it. He couldn’t help the snort of wry amusement that left his lips at the sight of a few rocks tied together instead of a spice pouch, and a meager coin purse. A note was inside as well, seemingly a note from Tenor -- 

My sincerest apologies, but I couldn’t get any more spice. The coin should pay for a soothing potion for your brother. By the time you read this, I’ll be long gone. 

So Tenor was a cheater and a dick. Wonderful. Just the type Aiden needed. 

He swung back around to the docks with the “package” at hand, and spotted the hyur tapping their foot as they waited for a ship that was out in the harbor. Aiden went to stand next to the man, putting on a bored air as if he was waiting for the ship as well, and held the package in clear view. 

“Excuse me, could you not stand so close--” Tenor said, turning to face him, only to yelp. “You’re not-- You shouldn’t have that package, who are you?” 

“Insurance,” he said, the lie coming to his lips easily. His voice was rough from disuse, but he didn’t have his hands free to sign the way he wanted, nevermind that signing would be more memorable than a gruff voice in Limsa. “They figured you’d cheat them, you know.” 

“That--That’s impossible, I covered my tracks--” 

“You’re just digging yourself deeper.” He sighed, shaking his head. “If you give me what you actually owe, maybe a little extra for my troubles, I won’t hand you over to them.” 

He was totally going to hand Tenor over. Spice, really? Tenor blanched, their lightly tanned skin turning pale at the casual threat. 

“N-now listen here, I am an upstanding gentleman of Ul’dah--” 

“You’re not in Ul’dah, are you?” Aiden said lightly, and gave a wan smile. “That ship is getting a little closer, don’t you think?” 

“F-Fine--” The man huffed, and flushed dully as he dug into his bag, pulling out the actual package this time, as well as another coinpurse. “You’re all brigands, all of you, I just need a little more time to pay my debts…”

“And you thought selling spice was the best way to do that?” Aiden snapped, his temper getting the better of him. “If you were actually honest about it, you wouldn’t be in this situation.” 

“I don’t need your judgement,” the man growled at him, and handed over the package to him. Aiden could see another pack in his bag, and noted it. “There, take it. Just let me leave, now that you’ve extorted me.” 

“Pleasure doin’ business with you,” Aiden said, taking the coin and the pack. “Don’t let the boat’s cannons hit your ass on the way out.” 

Before Tenor could do more than splutter indignantly, Aiden was already walking away and back into the hawker’s alley. He got rid of the bigger box and pocketed the packet of spice and the coin, and went up to the Yellowjacket stationed at the market entrance. 

“Excuse me, ma’am?” He asked, pulling his brow together in mock worry, and a grimace. “I think a hyurian man over there, in the black coat, had some spice in his bag. Maybe it’s nothing, but…”

The miqo’te woman blinked in shock, but gave a nod. “Thank you for letting me know, I’ll go and see what I can do.” 

Aiden watched her go, her hand on her ear as she called for back up from a linkpearl, and nodded to himself. Now all that was left was to go and meet Gruff, under the weathervane. It didn’t take long to get there again, and he sat himself down on the low wall, placing his elbows on his knees and keeping a careful watch on the crowds. Roughly ten minutes later, a pair of Yellowjackets hog marched Tenor through the marketplace, his hands bound behind his back. He was complaining about the rough binds, that he was innocent and didn’t have to be treated this way. Aiden’s eyes tracked them through the crowd, until they disappeared in the northern section of the Alley that led to the Yellowjacket’s command. 

When he finally looked back to the plaza, a rough looking lalafell in green was staring at him, their arms crossed. He nodded to them, and beckoned them over. 

“He was going to jump ship and cheat you. The package had nothing but a few rocks and enough gil for a sleeping potion.” Aiden said by way of greeting, and reached into his bag for the packet of spice and the coin. “I went and got what you needed.” 

The lalafell stared at him for a long, long moment, before taking it. “You’re a mite strange for a mort. Why’d you not cut the coin n’ scamper off?” 

Aiden didn’t answer immediately, just rubbing his gloved hands together idly. “A friend of mine died due to addiction, after he couldn’t get more from his supplier. It was ugly, and I don’t want to see it happen again. Your brother -- if you take that and start weaning him off of it, you might be able to save him. Use some of the coin for soothing potions, if it gets bad.” 

“Hm.” The lalafell said, scratching at their head underneath their green bandana. “... The name’s Underfoot. I think a mort like you might just be who my brother needs to see.” 

Aiden glanced at them, lifting a brow. 

“Jacke’s the sort that likes to thank who helps him. And I think you might be interested in what he has to say. That and the Dutiful Sisterhood’ll thank ye handsomely.” Underfoot said, giving a grin. “Yer new to Limsa, ain’t ye? Well, it’d be a shame to let your talents go to waste - why don’t we see if we can set ye up, as thanks.”

[quilloftheclouds]

No. 4 - TRUST FALL “Do you trust me?” | taken hostage | pushed

Part two continued from yesterday’s prompt! This one’s got a happy ending~

It is a bit long, so under the cut we go!

---

“Y’ain’t takin’ this seriously, are ye?” one of the girls said, riling Brent’s temper up further. He turned back from her to me, cocking his head with a malicious gleam in his bared teeth.

“We gotta beat it into that thick skull a’ yers again?”

“I won’t be in town that day, anyways,” I answered calmly, tone level. I’d rather not get hit again, but this’d happened so much by that point that I was genuinely numb to their threats. I’d a high pain tolerance, but there was no reason to get more stains and tears in the old dress I wore. Not when the only one who could repair it was… not here anymore. “... Ye gonna let me up?”

“I dunno, ye gonna gimme sump'n'?” I grimaced.

“Brent, I got nothin’ t’ give ye. Ye just tossed me groceries t’ the sea.”

“Well, maybe we gotta give you sump’n’!”

“Huh?” one of his cronies sounded, the confusion in his face mirrored in the rest of the bunch. “But I thought--”

“You dullard! I mean a beatin’, we’re gonna give ‘er a beatin’!” I sighed. The kids around me nodded blankly, still not quite keying into the so-called ‘joke’. 

“Ohhh.”

I rolled my eyes. The sun was lowering all too quick; someone had to be up to work the lighthouse’s beacon before the nightly fog swept into harbour. If they felt like taking me down once and for all, good for them. But I was tired and hungry, and now without even a meal to look forward to. I propped myself up on an arm and shoved myself to my feet, picking my ripped pack up and slinging it over a shoulder.

I expected retaliation before I took a step forward, head bowed and arms folded over to protect the vitals. A ‘clang’ of metal and a boyish shriek shivered the air, but not a thing touched me.

Mystified, I hesitantly lifted my eyes, peering back. Was… was that a sword?

A girl no taller than the children around her held a f*cking sword out towards Brent, the boy himself rubbing his hand as though it was sore. The walking stick he’d threatened me with no more than a few moments ago rested in the grass yards away. Had the girl knocked it that far with only her blade? With such smallness to her???

The air whistled with nothing but the wind for a breath. I could near sense the others’ heartbeats, if not for my own pounding in my ears. I recognized the Naval uniform she wore, now. I should’ve run, got out of there. I’d no doubt be blamed for the altercation--any witnesses, especially those of authority, always pointed to me as the culprit, not the victim.

But something about the sleekness of her clothes, the shine of her badges and buttons, the sharp certainty to her expression--all despite her size, and the assumptions people no doubt made about her. Not just a girl, then. Just a young-looking woman. I couldn’t move, jaw hanging open without a word.

The Naval officer retracted her blade, smoothly sliding the shortsword into its sheath, eyes pinned to the sweat on Brent’s brow. In a voice so cold it shuddered my spine, she spoke a simple comment.

“I believe it is near past curfew for children of your age.” English. The accent was of a people generally disliked by my own, and for good reason, but my judgement stopped short of where it usually went. She’d already proven herself enough for me.

“Ah-, uh, aye, M-miss. Ma’am,” the boy next to Brent stuttered, grabbing his leader’s arm. Brent himself was frozen, anger still flashing in his eyes, but all motivation to apply it paused. That switched at his lackey’s prompting. He shoved the other boy off.

“Aye, that it almost is,” Brent agreed, though with an edge of malice. “We was just makin’ sure this troublemaker wasn’t gonna break any laws, was all. She’s well known fer it.”

“The laws are not for children to enforce,” the woman replied. Seeing her statement held no effect, she continued with a different intention in mind, the considering tone to her words as menacing as the blade she shifted in its sheath, “It would be a shame if a careless accident were to occur. Out in the dark, so high up on the rocks, a simple slip would be easy, wouldn’t you think? One would never be seen again.”

Brent’s nostrils flared like a horse still green. He quirked his jaw, stood a moment, towering over this woman by half a foot, before whirling on his heel and stomping off towards town. The rest of his bunch hurried after, casting fearful glances back my way.

Our way.

The woman hadn’t left. I started when I realized she’d been staring at me, her gaze darting down to her white gloves when our eyes briefly met. She set to adjusting the fingers of the white silk, an action I thought a little odd, since it wasn’t likely I’d be someone who‘d judge at all. I looked down at my own clothes and winced. Not with a dress so covered in dust and grass stains.

“Do you trust me?” I flinched, again startled by the abrupt way she broke the silence. I opened my mouth, closed it, opened it again. Blinked a few times.

“Uh… I. M’ apologies but… I don’t even know yer name…”

Her guard appeared to drop at that. Eyes widened just the slightest bit.

“Yes. Of course, I have yet to introduce myself,” the woman’s words had stiffened, drastically different from the knives they’d mimicked just moments before. She shifted her fidgeting to her buttons, now absorbed in polishing the dust away with a handkerchief, something unsure about her movements. “My name is V--...Io. Io Sørenson. Simply refer to me as Io.”

I rolled my shoulders, slotting my arm through the other of my pack’s straps, brushing down my dress as much as I could. A bright flurrying feeling touched my heart. I couldn’t help but grin wide. It’d been awhile since I’d had someone on my side.

“Ah, me name’s Chichima. Ye can call me Chichi,” I replied, tilting my head to her in thought. “Io, huh? That’s a swell name if I’ve ever heard one. One ‘a the moons, aye?”

“I…” She focused intently on my smile, uncertainty whirling in her eyes. “Yes. How did you…?”

“Me Auntie used to tell me facts ‘bout the stars ‘n’ planets, showed me the general places ‘a them all from the balcony on clear nights.” I pointed up the ridge, up to the top of the lighthouse’s tower. “Didn’t need it lit when there wasn’t any fog, ‘n’ boats always let us know if they were comin’ in or goin’ out in the dark. Those nights, up there’d offer the clearest a’ views on the whole island.” Io clasped her hands together, a hazy look overtaking her expression as she followed my guide.

“Your aunt sounds like a knowledgeable woman.”

“She was.”

“‘Was’, ‘was’,” Io repeated quietly, words just a breath, gaze now pinned to the ground. “‘Was’ means death.”

“... Aye.”

Io jolted. She cleared her throat, once again focused on her gloves.

“What I inquired of you earlier,” she broached the topic bluntly, words stilting and tapering off to a whisper as she lost confidence: “I was told that trust is something developed among what one might call… er… ‘friends’. I am not well-versed in this concept, and I apologize for attempting it on you without prior greeting. I simply thought we might... share some things, ah... ‘in common’? That is another factor I’ve been told is important to ‘friends’. Though now I am questioning the... validity of my source… for this information...” She ended with a quick breath. My growing smirk didn’t seem to lend her much ease, but I couldn’t help it much.

“Yer askin’ if I wanna be friends.”

“Yes.”

“Ain’tcha part ‘a the Navy, though?” I glanced down towards the harbour, the Navy galleon’s hull obvious even from this distance by its size dwarfing the simple fishing boats around it. “Wouldn’t be much reason to take on a friend if ye’d be sailin’ outta here in a few d--” Io grabbed my hand and shoved a folded up card into it.

“It is solely an offer.” She rushed through her words, her heels now rocking with want to run. “You need not accept it. But your confidence is admirable and your response in the face of being both outnumbered and overpowered is a reputable trait the Navy would find acceptable. And food and housing and clothing is provided. The town could easily be assigned another lighthouse keeper.”

“Io, are y’offering me a job? I--”

“It’s getting dark. Return to your duties as current keeper and I will see you at the dock tomorrow at noon on the dot.” She stepped away, freezing a moment. “I-if. If you accept the offer.”

Without a farewell, the woman--though once again I was questioning that age--was off at a jaunt, out of sight down the hill in the blink of an eye.

Dumbfounded, I raised a hand to wave long after she’d disappeared.

“... Alright, uh. Bye.”

[a-solitary-marshmallow]

Please Don’t See Me - Chapter 12

Ford had not been having a good week.

Well, he was using the term ‘week’ loosely, since he wasn’t actually sure how much time had passed. The last few days and nights had been a blur of calculations and experiments and frustration. Ford had been sure that the mutation (or Warping, as he’d mentally dubbed it, for convenience) would be simple to reverse. Theoretically, it should be! But in practice there were so many variables to account for – not only did he have to know exactly how the physical mutations came about in order to restore living tissue back to its original state with no side effects, but there was the cognitive aspect to consider as well. There was no use restoring Stan to his human form if his mind was still Warped.

The former of the two issues was all but solved. Ford had managed to reverse-engineer the mutation process physically – the insects he had caught and exposed to the Warped crystal fragments, then dunked in hastily-made serum, had returned to their original forms with no permanent physical or genetic alterations. However, they still exhibited behaviour consistent with the Warping and atypical for unaffected members of their species. So even if Ford did try curing his brother Stan still wouldn’t be himself. Most likely Ford would have a wolf freaking out because it suddenly had a human body.

Ford had several pinprick bite marks from the Warped moth that was his last test subject (apparently when exposed to the Warped crystal flecks, moths developed spearhead-like mouthpieces and were unafraid to use them). But since being cured the stubborn insect still held no fear of Ford and had tried (unsuccessfully) to stab him with its now-harmless mouthpiece. That was, until Ford accidentally stepped on it. It wasn’t his fault! Because it was still stuck in a Warped mindset it couldn’t comprehend that its body was once again light enough to fly, so once it had escaped from its jar it had decided to crawl across the floor. Was Ford supposed to watch his every step for stray insects?

In any case, he was left with one part of the equation solved and no idea how to do the rest.

During the standstill in which Ford wasn’t sure where to turn, he had spent some time trying to locate Stan’s car. Stan had mentioned something about his car being around here somewhere and Ford knew it was a shot in the dark but he had to at least try.

He had contacted the local law enforcement department to see if there had been any cars found abandoned around town in the recent months. Luckily they had records of an abandoned car being picked up in the woods some time back. Apparently, since the car had no registration and thus no one registered to own it, it had been sitting idle in the car park of the police station for the past few months. They played cards on the hood. Gravity Falls police were weird.

But when Ford brought the car back to his house (through less-than-legal means) Stan had just looked at it with those dull eyes and then looked back at Ford inquisitively. Of course he didn’t recognise it. He couldn’t even recognise his own name. Ford had been stupid to hope that it would work.

So the car was left parked behind the house while Ford went back to his research. A few things may have been thrown around out of frustration.

Ford had always prided himself on being scientifically-minded, but right now he was strongly resisting the urge to smash things and shout about how it wasn’t fair. Stan shouldn’t just be watching with blank yellow eyes. He should be angry or cheering Ford on or punching him in the face or something. He should be Stan. Instead he was stuck as some animal and the more Ford thought about it, the more he realized that it was his fault.

The wolf that wasn’t quite Ford’s brother anymore didn’t seem to realize that, though. Had instead tried to take care of him, bringing back prey like Ford was a helpless pup, refusing to eat until Ford did, snarling furiously at any trespassing creatures that came near the house. (From the pile of blood and feathers Ford had found outside a while ago it seemed that the griffins from earlier had come back. They didn’t get very close.)

Stan had even tried to help Ford in shifting his ‘gift’, though they seemed to have different ideas of where the deer carcass should go and it had devolved into another tug-of war – which, thankfully, ended with the deer being disposed of. Ford didn’t know he would have done if the thing had made it into his house.

Ford wasn’t sure that he deserved the care and affection. When he’d first realized what was happening he’d been moved to tears.

But that didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that even in this state, Stan’s instincts were to take care of Ford over everything. It didn’t matter that the attention was familiar – because for the last few months, even when Ford had no idea, his brother had still been watching over him and dragging him out of trouble. It didn’t matter that this made a lump rise in his throat and filled him with a heavy, itching guilt because Stan had been there for him and Ford had not for many, many years.

No, all that did matter was curing Stan; which led to Ford neglecting the piling-up mail and voice messages on his answering machine in favour of working on a cure.

In hindsight, he really should have listened to those voice messages.

Ford froze mid-step at the scene unfolding before him. The last time he’d seen his parents had been a year ago, the family gathering together to celebrate Shermie and Rebecca’s anniversary back in California. Family never came to Ford’s house. What were they doing here?

“Ford! How ya doin, sweetie?” Ma called out cheerfully as she climbed out of the car. Pa already stood on the beaten dirt path with a cigarette in one hand and a lighter in the other. He spared Ford a gruff nod.

“Ma, Pa.” Ford forced out. “What – what are you doing here?”

“Too busy to pick up the phone, as usual.” Pa muttered. Ma tutted and straightened to fix her hair.

“Lay off ‘im Filbrick, you know how excited our Stanford gets about his work! Ford honey, we called and left a message to tell you we’d be around. Y’see, we were drivin’ down to visit one of yer dad’s old business partners and I thought ‘that’s near where Stanford lives!’ So we decided to stop by for a visit, see how this science gig ‘a yours is goin’.”

Pa lit his cigarette and took a puff – the bitter scent of smoke drifting across the yard made Ford swallow hard. The glasses hid his eyes but Ford was sure that his father’s gaze was fixed on Stan, judging by the way the wolf was bristling defensively. An irrational fear flooded through Ford. Their father had been spitting mad since the science fair, how would he react to seeing Stan again…?

Except Filbrick wouldn’t know that the wolf facing him was his own son.

Still, of all the times to visit, this had to be one of the worst! Ford was unbelievably grateful that Stan’s car was around the back. If their parents saw it they would ask all sorts of questions like ‘where is Stan’ and how was Ford supposed to explain this mess? And to their parents of all people. He clenched his fists as his breathing quickened, trying to force himself to calm down and think rationally. What was he supposed to do? Turn them away? Waste precious time exchanging pleasantries instead of working on curing his brother?

Ford was spared from having to speak because a low snarl rumbled out. Pa stiffened, and Ford was suddenly reminded that it was possible the negative feelings between Stan and their father ran both ways.

Stan slunk in front of him, hackles raised and lips peeled back to display sharp yellow teeth. Pa recoiled from the threat display.

“Stanford, get yer animal down!”

“Oh – I’m sorry – he doesn’t really like people-” Ford stammered out, trying to grab Stan’s fur, but the wolf sidestepped him and slunk closer towards Pa. Ma let out a nervous little squeal.

“That – yer dog’s pretty big, Ford. Looks almost like a wolf.”

“Yes, he, um-”

“Look at you! Yer letting the animal walk all over ya!” Pa glowered at the approaching wolf. He really shouldn’t be doing that, why was he doing that? It was only making Stan more aggressive and that wasn’t good he was dangerous, he didn’t know what he was doing-

If he did know, would he act any differently?

“You oughta teach it who’s boss.” Pa continued. Stan let out another low growl and that was it.

“Rebus! Heel!”

Stan hesitated at Ford’s shout, fur still bristling but no longer stalking forward. Ford strode over to grab a handful of that fur and give him a sharp pull away from their father, thanking any and all deities that his brother actually listened to him like this. Stan reluctantly allowed himself to be pulled back. Ford rushed to stammer out an explanation, not daring to release his hold on the werewolf.

“I’m sorry, Pa. Rebus is a… a wolf-hybrid that I’ve been studying. He’s quite distrustful of strangers.”

“Ya need ta beat that outta him.” Pa said gruffly.

Ma gave a strained chuckle. “Ah, I reckon Stanford knows what’s best here, what with all his research on the thing. But Ford honey, are ya sure he’s safe?”

“Yes, of course, Rebus would never hurt me.” Ford kept on tugging Stan back, the wolf complying with a dissatisfied rumble. “I apologize. I’ve been busy with a project, I didn’t realize I would be having company.” Distract them, shift their attention away from Stan. “I – I have some tea inside, would you like to join me? I’ll put Sta- Rebus in the shed.”

Pa shook his head and stepped forward, rolling up his sleeves. “Lemme show ya how to handle a real dog. Ya keep treating it like that and it’s just gonna keep walking all over you. Ya gotta show it who’s boss.”

“No, Pa, please-” But the man had already strode up and grabbed Stan by the scruff of his neck, reaching the other hand around to grab his muzzle and hold him tight.

Stan reacted.

Ford yelped as he was smacked in the face by an explosion of wolf. He staggered back more from the shock than the pain. Ma let out a shriek. Stan wrenched himself free and snapped at Pa’s hand, which was yanked back and only barely avoided the clashing of teeth.

Pa growled and aimed a kick at Stan’s face, but the wolf bit down on his boot and yanked, sending him sprawling on his back. Stan sprang forward onto the burly man’s chest. Ford jumped in to grab those jaws before Stan could snap down, holding them shut with all the strength he had and ramming his shoulder into the wolf, trying desperately to shove him away.

“Stop it! Get off him!”

It was useless, of course – Ford’s strength was no match for that of a Warped, furious werewolf – but it worked all the same. Stan backed off, shaking his head to free himself from Ford’s hands, eyes wide and fur bristling but looking more confused than enraged now. Ford lifted his hands and placed himself between Stan and their father, who was sitting up and spluttering furiously as Ma rushed to him.

Stan made a move to growl at the man. Ford raised his voice.

“No!”

This time Stan growled at him.

“No.” Ford snapped. Stan had the grace to look ashamed.

There was shuffling behind him as Pa climbed to his feet, muttering under his breath. Ford didn’t dare shift his eyes away from the werewolf as he spoke to his parents.

“I think it would be best if you came back another day. I’ll – I’ll be sure to check my answering machine more often, so I can lock Rebus away in advance the next time you come.”

“Now you listen here, Stanford-”

“Just leave.”

There was more grumbling and cursing, but Ma’s fearful voice finally persuaded Pa to get in the car. Ford didn’t relax until the rumble of its engine had faded into the forest and he was, once again, left alone with his brother. He slumped with a sigh.

“Well. That could have gone better.”

Padding footsteps approached. Ford squinted resentfully at a rather confused-looking Stan.

“Since when was attacking our father a good idea? Sure, I don’t imagine you have many positive feelings towards him…” Ford sighed again and pulled his glasses off to rub them clean on his sleeve. “I suppose he wasn’t exactly friendly, but our father has never been friendly! Surely you remember that?”

Or not, as the case was. Ford huffed to himself.

“Well, in any case, I’m sorry for shouting at you. But I wouldn’t have had to if you didn’t try to turn Pa into a chew toy.” He groaned. “Stanley, what am I going to do with you?”

Stan, evidently accepting that he wasn’t in too much trouble, leaned against Ford’s side. He kept his gaze trained on the road. Stan’s posture was still defensive, as if wary for Pa’s return.

Pa couldn’t have come off as such a threat, could he? Sure he was imposing and struck a generally intimidating figure but he wouldn’t actually hurt them.

Well. That hadn’t always been true for Stan, at least. Ford could still remember the horrible day they’d been playing in their father’s shop and accidentally knocked over an expensive vase. Stan had jumped to claim responsibility and when Ford saw him again that evening, the usually rambunctious boy was sporting several new bruises and sans a tooth.

Maybe Stan still held a wariness of the man since then, even in his wolf form. But that was years ago. Pa hadn’t hit him since then, right?

Ford shook his head to clear it. Like so many things, that didn’t matter right now. What mattered was curing his brother. And Ford still had to figure out how to do that! It wasn’t like he could just show Stan a few pictures and hey presto, his memories and cognitive function would return!

…actually, if Stan had recognised their father, that might be helpful. Ford had been acting under the assumption that Stan had only retained a few recent memories – namely, the memories of living with Ford under the name of Rebus. But if Stan had recognised their father in some aspect it would imply that those older memories were still there, at least in some form. Perhaps, if the memories had only been covered over instead of completely overwritten, they could still be accessed.

Maybe, with just the right mixture of chemicals – Ford could add that to the formula, of course – the subject’s mind would be more elastic. If Ford could manage that then maybe the mind would be able to re-write the Warped neural pathways and restore itself back to its original state, no extra meddling needed. The stimulant would essentially act as a booster shot to jumpstart the process. Theoretically of course, but…

Ford snapped to attention, mind already working a mile a minute at the prospect of a having new approach to investigate.

“Come along, Stan, I need to find more test subjects to work on. Rats have fairly advanced minds, correct? And they shouldn’t grow so large as to be a threat during the Warping process. Not as much as you, anyway. Now, I wonder if there are any in the shed… and please don’t eat them this time if I manage to find any.”

 ______________________________________________________________________

Brother was chasing Rebus again! It was so much fun darting around the Underground Place, staying just ahead of the reaching hands. Brother was slower and clumsier than Rebus, but he was definitely trying, all red in the face from shouting and running. He was carrying a little vial of something that he seemed very insistent that Rebus have. Ha! Only if Brother could catch him!

Brother cheated by grabbing a sheet off his workbench and throwing it over Rebus. Rebus got lost in the fabric. It forced him to stay still long enough for Brother to get a hold of his fur, voice scolding.

Brother grabbed his jaw. Rebus tried to shake free but the vial was already being upended into his mouth – the bitter liquid made his lips pucker. He whined and tried to back away but Brother clamped a hand over his mouth and nose, forcing him to swallow.

Rebus did, when he had no choice between that and choking. When he got the awful stuff down Brother let him go and Rebus backed away, hacking and sending his packmate a dirty look. Brother didn’t even look ashamed.

Rebus picked up his head to walk away, resolving not to play with a dirty cheater, but – why was the world spinning so much? His legs wouldn’t support him, what with how the floor seemed to be surging up and down. He staggered and collapsed onto his stomach with an oof.

...that wasn’t good.

[thenixkat]

interesting film, pretty. Am still waiting to hear/see what 'going too far in his hatred of humanity' actually means in regards to one of the spirit characters. Cause, it looks like this balance between humans and spirits is humans doing whatever the fuck they want while spirits have to learn to adjust also a very long kidnapping cat spirit kitten gets chased out of his home in the forest by human construction, gets attacked by humans, saved by what is possibly supposed to be a spirit terrorist cell, and adopted. Then a law enforcement agent raids the place causing the adult spirits to have to flee without the kitten who the law enforcement agent kidnaps and takes on a trip to the Guild in spite of the many many escape attempts of the kitten

"I'm not a pet! I'm a hostage!" yeah yeah like this is an ongoing kidnapping.

uh huh. That does fit with how weirdly expressionless those guys who attacked the kitten at the beginning of the movie were… but i can't say i particularly like the twist of 'the spirits who won't roll over and let humans do whatever are bad guys who go too far and don't care how many of their own kind they hurt in the process to achieve their goals' thing yeah apparently going too far was just pushing back against fuckers demolishing their home

yeah, that is a good point, sure they could relocate but humans continue to go everywhere and take everything so they'd just be constantly on the move until there's nowhere else to run to. And frankly, they shouldn't have to let fuckers constantly take their homes i can see why murdering one child for the greater good would seem like a decent solution. And there was an attempt to get the kid on their side b4 jumping to murder

i will say this the Guild is organized as fuck and very well utilizes the abilities of the members to evacuate folks

ok but yer definition of 'coexist' means humans doing whatever the fuck they want with no repercussions and spirits having to roll over and let fuckers take their homes and adjust to living in human society where they have to get jobs and pay rent and have to hide what they are so as to not spook the humans that's a shitty coexistence

yeah yeah cute and all but like underlying message is assimilation is good, fighting back against folks stealing yer land is bad

[mymelodyheart]

Highland Destiny Chapter 1  ~Sassenach~

It was Friday night, and James Fraser and his closest friends were in the Scotch & Rye Pub having a lads' night out. It had been a while since they got together, and for Jamie, it was a welcome distraction after a very long hectic day at work.

The pub was in full swing, filled with locals intent on binge-drinking and having a great time. The drinks flowed, the music from the jukebox blared loudly, and the place was bursting to the seams.

"Hey Finn, bring us another round of pint, will ye?" Rupert shouted to the barman from their table. Rupert was one of Jamie's trusted friend and right-hand at his whisky distillery, FRISEALACH, Gaelic root for the name Fraser.

Jamie shook his head as he peered into his watch. "No, man, I've had enough. I still have work to do aye, but ye lot carry on."

"C'mon pal, ye had only one drink, and ye've been nursing that pint the whole night. It must be warm like pish by now. For fuck sake, loosen up, it's Friday night," Angus, the head security of the distillery cajoled in a drunken slur as he gave Jamie's arm a playful punch.

"Yeah, Jamie, one more drink..." piped in his brother-in-law, Ian Murray.

"Sorry lads I'm driving, and I..." Jamie's sentence trailed off as his phone buzzed with a notification alerting him to an emergency sent by the dispatchers of Inverness Fire Department

"Fire at St. Agnes Orphanage...sorry lads, got to go," Jamie announced as he stood up and grabbed his leather jacket and car keys. Jamie's friends, momentarily stunned, dismissed him with a wave of their hands and muttered something in the way of "alright then," and "stay safe".

Although a self-made millionaire, Jamie Fraser, 28 years old, was an enlistee fire-fighter at Inverness Fire Department. It had always been a childhood dream to be a fireman; hence, he applied for the job. With his impressive height of 6'4, over-all fitness, and years of gym training and early morning runs, it wasn't a difficult feat to qualify for the volunteer post. 

Running to the car, Jamie felt the adrenaline coursing through his veins and was hoping to make it sharp at the scene of action. He wasn't very far from the Fire Station, and he just about made it in the nick of time to put his gear on and hop into the fire engine.

..........

It was after 11 pm when the truck transporting Jamie came to a halt at the scene of the crisis. It was chaotic, and the street was full of law enforcement and bystanders. Jamie quickly jumping out, strapped his protective helmet on and secured his tactical bag. He was immediately instructed by the barking Head Fire Officer and god-father, Murtagh, to get his arse into the 3 story building. 

Fire-fighters from another district were already there running about pulling water hoses and herding children out from the building. Some were climbing up the mechanised ladders attached to the fire truck and some heading into the blazing inferno. Jamie Fraser quickly followed suit and ran into the building. He cursed under his breath as he almost collided into a group of frightened children and nuns herded by a colleague. "Keep moving, keep moving," he shouted as he made way for them to pass.

Jamie pushed on amidst the cries of panics and thick smoke. He went from room to room, kicking doors open and making sure there wasn't anybody left behind. Just as he was making his way up to the next floor, he saw a woman in her dressing gown leaning against the wall coughing heavily and shielding her nose and mouth from smoke inhalation. Without thinking, Jamie quickly ran up and caught her on time before she collapsed to the floor.

With hardly any effort, Jamie scooped the unconscious woman into his arms and carried her outside to safety. As they neared the ambulance, he glanced down at the motionless body he held. Although the woman's face was smudged with soot, he was astonished to discover how breathtakingly beautiful she was. Jamie felt his heart stop as he gazed into her perfect face with full sensual lips, pearl-white skin and that mass of dark curly hair framing the delicate look. His eyes travelled further down and rested upon her shapely breasts. The thin garment she was wearing left little to the imagination and Jamie felt a warm sensation surge through his body. 

Instantaneously, the woman opened her eyes and Jamie, seeing she was alert, heaved as he drew a sharp intake of breath, as he stared at her, stunned. Her eyes were the most beautiful colour of bright amber, and the wild-eyed look made it even more startling.  Whisky eyes,  he thought.   For Jamie, time stood still, and the entire furore that was happening was soon forgotten. He was surprised at the overwhelming sense of protectiveness that washed over him as he held the body close. All he wanted to do at that moment was to keep her forever and get lost in those pools of golden orbs.

The woman, confused and panicked, began to wriggle in his arms. "Let me down please, let me down...the children in the building..." she whimpered in a rasping voice and in a very notable English accent.   Ah, Sassenach.

Jamie, at a loss with words and totally hypnotised by her eyes, continued to stare stupidly at her and when he tried to speak, no words came out. Eventually coming to his senses, Jamie brought her closer to his warmth, hushing and stroking, "Sssshhh, Sassenach, ye're safe now." He cradled her as if she was a child and whispered endearments and assurances in Gaelic in the hope of soothing away the fears.

When two medics came to relieve him of the woman, Jamie snapped out of his trance but kept his firm hold. He loathed giving up the warm bundle in his arms, but his god-father Murtagh was barking orders already, "For fuck sake Fraser, dinna just stand there...get yer arse back in the building." 

Resigned, and cursing in Gaelic under his breath, he reluctantly let go. After one last backward glance at the woman, Jamie ran back towards the burning building.   Damn, Fraser, snap out of it.

An hour passed, and finally, the fire was brought under control. There was a lot of damage, but after making a quick assessment of the aftermath, Jamie knew the structure was still solid. He made a mental note to donate towards the restoration first thing Monday morning. 

Unstrapping his helmet, Jamie made his way back outside to look for the woman he rescued but noticed most of the emergency unit had left. He asked everywhere for the brown-haired lass, but no one knew of her existence. After asking every possible person that might have an inkling, Jamie felt disappointment sink at the pit of his stomach when nobody could recall an injured English woman. He couldn't stop thinking about her and was adamant he would search for her.

"English woman, you say, eh? Sorry, Fraser, I dinna think I attended to any English woman tonight. She's probably taken to the hospital already," one of the medics offered as an explanation.

"Aye, of course. I will go and check there. Thank ye, Aidan, and see ye around." Jamie said with a somewhat forced, smile. 

Later on, in the early hours of the morning, back at the Fire Department, Jamie showered and changed into a fresh white shirt and jeans he kept in his own personal locker. Feeling refreshed, he made his way to the hall where the rest of his fire-fighting colleagues were back-slapping and congratulating each other for a good night's work.

"Hey Fraser, fancy a pint before going hame?" Murtagh shouted. 

Jamie shook his head. "Naa, I'll pass...maybe another night," he replied, giving his god-father a hug and a slap on the back.

"Very weel, suit yersel' lad, but ye think ye can stop by here Monday at 10 am?" Murtagh asked his god-son. "I know ye have an empire to run and all, but we're having a general meeting, and I'd prefer it if everyone, including the volunteers, were present. And I want to introduce a new member, and if I recall right, Beauchamp is the name. What say ye, eh?"

Distracted, Jamie nodded, "Aye, I suppose I can do that. See you Monday morning."

After saying goodnights and farewells to his comrades, Jamie made his rounds to all the hospitals in Inverness looking for an English woman casualty. But none of the hospitals nor emergency departments had any record of her. After exhausting every avenue he can think of, it was 7 am before Jamie gave up his search and headed home.

[ask-de-writer]

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 83 of 83 : World of Sea

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 83 of 83

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

copyright 2020

written 2007

All rights reserved.

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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Users   of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may   reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information   remains intact.  They may use the characters or original characters in   my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical   compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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New to the story?  Read from the beginning.  PART 1 is here

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“Why, one,” said Master Juris, bothered now by where the questions might lead.  Master Clard and the others all followed in a ragged chorus, “One.”

“Could you all hear the drum talk between the ships?”  Kurin had hands on hips now, and determination in her tone.

Again the chorus of yeses sounded.

“So, you knew that Mister Kotance was attempting to seize my  personal property on the pretext that I was only a child as Master Juris just tried to claim as well?  That he was trying to take a ship and murder people that you all knew very well were seeking redress of wrongs done to them by the fleet?  Then you just stood by and let at least a quarter of the crew risk Scattering for participation in piracy?  It wasn’t until Mord Halyn, whom I still regard as my Captain, tried to deal with the results of the piracy’s failure that you, your apprentices and journeymen finally emerged in spite of the guards and took over, as you should have done at once.

“Now you throw in our faces the attempt to save you from the results of your own folly?”  Kurin finished severely, “Take the Wergeld offer.  Save your ship.  Or take the Fleet Law and lose it.”

While the Longin’s abashed officers and Masters conferred, Kurin turned to Tanlin.  “Thanks for that hug.  I really needed it.”

“Oi know,” she replied.  “Ye needed ‘Igh Cloud too.”

Softly, Kurin asked, “Lady — Captain Tanlin, can you take something from me?”

“I’ tis w’at Oi suspect tis, nae.  Nae now,” Tanlin answered equally softly.  “Just now, we’re tryin’ t’ save t’em, nae drive t’em onto a reef — in a storm — wit’ a Dragon-tide t’ ‘elp t’ings along.”

The Longin’s conference was brief.  It was Master Clard who spoke for them.  In a clear voice he said formally, “Your Honors, Kurin, the Longin wishes to formally apologize to you all, and you, Kurin, especially.  Master Juris spoke from passion, not thought.  He was angry and let his feelings get the better of him.

“For the rest, a majority of us have decided to hear out the Wergeld idea. If we do not, it would appear that we are dismasted and sinking with no help in sight.  Make your offer.”

Kurin stood up, relief clear on her countenance.  “The first part of the agreement is common to all Wergeld agreements.  It is simply the rules of the Wergeld.  You must acknowledge the wrongs in dispute and publicly agree to the settlement that we bargain out.  The settlement will have the force of fleet Law once reached.  It is between us alone.  It may not be used as a precedent or in any future criminal or civil action not directly related to the terms of this understanding.  Things said or admitted in this Wergeld may not be used against either of us in future legal action, civil or criminal. Any future charges brought must stand on their own merits and may not derive from this agreement.  Last, all grudges and feuds between the parties of this Wergeld must be put aside or the whole thing is voided and the Law will take its proper course.

“The wrongs in question have been listed already.  They are not disputable.  All else is subject to negotiation.

“The first term of the offer is this.  Mister Kotance has already been separately charged.  No term of this Wergeld shall be in any way binding on him.

“For our part, we have Mister Morgu and Silor who will have to be tried before the fleet for their mutiny, attempted murder and murder.  This whole sad mess began and was caused by their hate.  They also shall have no protection in this Wergeld.

“Can you agree with us so far?” asked Kurin hopefully.

Alor, the Longin’s Purser and legal officer, asked Captain Sarfin, “Before we say anything, will the Naral fleet agree to this — Wergeld thing?”

Sarfin steepled his hands, thought for a moment, and then conferred with Sula.  He nodded and Sula spoke for the bench.  “As one of the parties involved is Arrakan and we are not in Naral fleet waters, Arrakan Law and Custom may be properly invoked.  The Third Great Law gives the Naral fleet no choice in the matter.  They must enforce the Wergeld as agreed between you.”

“Then we can agree, so far, Kurin.”  She tilted her head in sad puzzlement at one change that she had heard.  “Us?  We? Our? Kurin?  Will you still leave us?  What good will this do if we cannot have the school and the mapping contract?”

“Don’t be afraid, Alor,” Kurin reassured her.  “I won’t abandon you to be Scattered.  Some things do have to change, though.”

She turned and asked, “Barad, will you present the next term?”

He stood and smiled in a twisted sort of way.  “I never thought to be in this position.  Mord Halyn Longin, I have to apologize to you in particular.  That I tried to stop the mutiny is no excuse for starting the plot in the first place.  I was wrong.  I am sure that my error brought you onto dry land for a time.  I am also sure that you now have safe water under your keel.  The term is this.  The fleet must restore your Master’s Certificate and replace you at the helm of the Longin.  They need you.  If you don’t think so, just look at how quickly and to what extent they went out the scuppers without you.  

“Besides, you were a guest at our Announcement Feast, so my old feud with you is dead or I lose my wife.  Can you agree to this?”  He held out his hand toward Mord, who appeared to be looking for some hook in what he had heard.  At last, prodded by Alor, he shook Barad’s hand in agreement.  He appeared to be disturbed that he owed his restoration, ship and freedom to Barad whom he had always thought of (correctly) as an enemy.

Tanlin stood and raised hands for attention.  “As Ca’tain o’ t’e Grandalor, Oi ‘ave t’ bring t’e next part o’ t’e Wergeld. By t’e terms, Oi can bring up yer violation o’ t’e Fift’ Groit Law an’ ye cannae be charged in any way because even i’ t’is negotiation gets off t’e hook, we’ve let t’e matter go. As a result o’ t’at violation t’ree o’ m’ crew were killed an’ twa wounded.  In t’e piracy attempt, a furt’er ane wa’ killed.  T’e murderer ‘as been charged but ‘is chance came because nane o’ ye but Kurin tried t’ stop ‘t.

“We lost Lenai Halin, t’e best riggin’ surveyor an’ sail lofter in m’ experience.  She wa’ a gentle soul ‘oo never raised ‘er voice t’ any.  She spent many ‘ours at m’ bedside teachin’ m’ t’ read yer script an’ figure wit’ yer numbers.  ‘Er son Arnat’s got nae mot’er now.  

“Helmsman Macoul wa’ dead before ‘e ‘it t’e boat under ‘im.  ‘E braved t’e Coriolis Storm, off ‘is wotch, t’ bring ‘ot food an’ drink t’ Barad an’ Darkistry as t’ey conned t’e ship int’ t’e eye o’ t’e storm.  A good mon.  Gone.  

“Bosun Modanet ‘elped direct t’e rescue operations wen t’e Princamorn sank.  ‘E an’ Barad pulled m’ oot o’ t’e woter an’ saved m’ life.  Died on yer ship wit’ never t’e attention o’ a doctor.  Cast overboard loike garbage.

“Our second day wotch drummer, Morga, a lad o’ fifteen.  Nae older’ll ‘e get.  Ripped apart an’ sent over t’e side by a Strong Skin catapult ‘arpoon aimed at Kurin an’ Darkistry.

“Like t’e mot’er Orca o’ Kurin’s tale, Oi’m surry for us bot’. We cannae bring t’em bock.  Oi propose t’at ye pay Arnat ten skins a Gat’ering for ‘is maintenance.  Any unused balance, an’ t’ere will be, is t’ go into ‘is Purser’s account as a nest egg for wen ‘e gets married.  For Lenai, we ask an annual rigging an’ sail survey dune by t’e Mordan at yer expense.  Any replacement cable or cordage is t’ be Mordan Twist.  We split t’e cost o’ any sails needed.  Oi ask yer ‘elp in Macoul’s case. Oi donnae know how t’ value ‘im.  Oi wish t’at Oi’d known ‘im better.”

“We are not responsible for …” Master Juris started when Mord, Alor and Mistress Daeron all silenced him.

Mistress Daeron said, “Even in the Rope Walk, I heard the fog drum go silent.  I knew that we were still in fog and I did not send to find the cause.  I know that the rest of us did the same because we have all discussed it.

“I do not know whether anything would have changed if we had investigated.  We cannot change it nor bring back your dead.  We should have tried.  That we are guilty of.  We stood by and did not even try to do something when we knew that something was wrong.  We heard the screams.  All of us.”

Tanlin answered her, “For our part, we precipitated t’e incident.  We approached ye under false colors.  Ever’ member o’ t’at party bore a message from m’ t’ clear t’at up after t’ey had gotten aboard.”  Tanlin paused and shook her head sadly, “We dinnae expect t’at nane o’ t’ dozen wad reach yer deck alive.

“We came t’ t’e Longin because we couldnae trust any ot’er ship except t’e Dorton, an’ we dinnae know w’ere she wa’.  We ‘oped t’ speak t’ Kurin.  At a ‘orrible cost we did.  She ‘as repaid our trust better t’an we could ‘ave ‘oped.  She’s even saved m’ Barad.

“T’e cost t’ ‘er wa’ equally ‘orrid.  T’ ‘elp us, she’s lost ‘er ‘ome ship.”

Master Juris spluttered, “She has not.  The Longin needs her.  We couldn’t send her away.  It would ruin us.”

Tanlin said scornfully, “W’at ye’ve just said makes t’e case.  Nae part o’ w’at any o’ ye said wa’, ‘We luve ‘er.’  Since ‘er fat’er died, only five beings on t’is world ‘ave said, ‘Oi luve ye’ t’ ‘er.  An’ t’ey were all birds.”

“Six,” Kurin interrupted, speaking to Tanlin.  “You were part of the flock that came to save me from Captain Urson.  And you have held and hugged me without needing a reason.”

Master Juris snorted, “We could do that.”

“T’en wye dinnae ye?” was Tanlin’s sharp retort.  “Ye ‘ad six Gat’erings t’ ‘elp a child.  All ye did wa’ teach ‘er an’ praise ‘er wen she did well.  No ‘ugs.  Naebody t’ ‘old. Just pain an’ emptiness inside, ‘eld at bay by learnin’ an’ work.”

A tear of gratitude leaked from Kurin’s eye as she said, “The last part of this Wergeld is this.  We will settle all the remaining unsettled claims.  I am the price you must pay.  I have found a home on the Grandalor, not just a place to stay.  

“Your Ship’s Business will remain safe, specifically, the mapping and charting, the navigation system, the Longin lace, and the fishing and shellfish taking and storage methods.

“I will come to the Longin to supervise and teach the school and also to map the Naral fleet waters according to your contracts.  From each Fall Gathering to each Spring Gathering I will be aboard the Grandalor while she trades with the Arrakan, Daroff, and Pallant fleets.  By the time that your mapping contract with the Naral fleet is done, if not well before, there should be others who can take over the school.

“That should complete the Wergeld and keep you safe from the Scattering that would otherwise be required.  We have thrown you a line.  Don’t drown.”

Kurin turned to Tanlin.  “Captain Tanlin, I have something for you.  It has nothing to do with the business of this Court.  This is my own free choice and I want it seen and witnessed by all.”  She held out her hands in the Arrakan style and knelt.  Tanlin took Kurin’s small hands in her own as Kurin began, “I Kurin Behar Longin, now of the Grandalor alone …”

“I wish that I had known about this kind of love when I gave you your Gift,” said Blind Mecat softly.  “I never got it either.”

-THE END-

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[randomrainman]

american conservatism and the minds of people: a black man’s perspective.

Hi, it is I.

I often think long and hard about the mind states of the people around me, and my inevitable conclusion is that the vast majority of people are monumentally and irrevocably fucking stupid.  As it turns out, people have a really hard time letting go of things with which they have grown familiar or fond, and therein lies the basic principle of conservative thought.  

“But aren’t some things okay to keep?”

Well, obviously, not everything needs to be thrown out in order for improvement to occur.  In the Army, we have things labelled “sustains” and “improves”.  The two terms are pretty self-explanatory (as are most things in the military): sustains are the things that work, and the improves are the things you either completely nix or need to, erm, improve.  Of course, this begs a question: as it relates to a society of living, (mostly) breathing human beings, how does this apply?

"Don’t throw out the baby with the bath water,” it is commonly said.  I am not entirely sure who was throwing away bathing children, but that’s a discussion for a different time.  The baby in this idiomatic expression is whatever it is we are supposed to be maintaining.  Let’s start with an example: police.

Obviously, it is entirely infeasible to literally abolish police.  We absolutely need the police force as an institution, and good and effective policing is a pillar to a modern, functional society.  However, we can abolish unprofessional, unnecessarily violent, racist, or otherwise unbecoming behaviour from police departments, and also demonstrate that such things are intolerable and met with appropriate punishments every time these rules are broken.  NWA didn’t make “Fuck The Police” because they wanted to express interest in having thoroughly arresting cop sex; it exists because they don’t trust the police.

Above: An Autistic Swedish dude spitting shockingly accurate commentary-by-proxy about American society. Flames!

Due possibly in part to dubiously worded slogans such as “defund the police”, modern conservatives balk at the thought of changing anything of significance about how policing in many communities in the United States is conducted, even going as far as to label the reform for which we call as an attack on the very idea of police.

That said, historically, the very pillars of police forces in the United States have their foundations in slavery and post-slavery racist institutions, which means that, while much has changed on the surface, the way police implement policy reflects structural and societal racism.  As a result, simply attacking individual instances of misconduct will almost always fail to elicit any meaningful progress, which is why some do seek to dismantle police departments (an option I cannot fathom as being realistic, especially not in the short term). 

The lack of a centralised police organisation from which to implement policy certainly does not help, and while some police departments, to include the Department of Justice itself, have introduced implicit bias training, it would appear that change was difficult to measure. Additionally, many police departments have not addressed the more overt problem of explicit racism in law enforcement, which is a nigh-impossible thing to tackle expeditiously without a top-down structure to deal with it. It has improved steadily overall, however, but not without significant disapproval...

Pictured: “disapproval”.  A civil rights demonstrator is attacked by a police dog in Birmingham, Ala., in 1963. (Photo credit: AP)

The Origins

As I noted earlier, there is plenty of shit people want to keep, and most for relatively understandable reasons -- after all, those things provide a sense of familiarity.  “It’s always been this way -- why change it?” they ask.  One needs only to look at our, um, flowery history to see countless examples of things that required change...

The transatlantic slave trade transported up to 12 million forcibly enslaved Africans to the Americas, many of whom arrived in what is now the United States.  As unspeakably horrifying as the actual journey was, this was only the beginning of the tribulations that would befall the slaves and their descendants in the future.

While Europeans played a large part in introducing the idea of race-based caste systems into colonised lands, the American brand of discrimination is different in the fact that the idea that Blacks and Native Americans were genetically inferior to whites was endemic to our inception, and thus, formed the basis of the things enshrined into American democracy.

Photo credit: Alexander Gardner / Wikimedia Commons

Abraham Lincoln entered the chat.

Naturally, having someone even so much as threaten the idea of racial dominance after literal fucking centuries of treating Black people as property did not sit well with the slave-owning populace (even if Lincoln’s motives were not exactly altruistic).  While the Southern states did in fact operate an agrarian economy heavily dependent on chattel slavery, it was that notion of superiority combined with societal comfort they felt that ultimately catalysed the secession of the Southern states from the Union...

Pictured: Civil War reenactors (from the Confederate side) simulate the Battle of Antietam, the bloodiest battle in US history.  Also, why the fuck is Civil War reenactment a popular thing to do? It’s deeply weird. (Photo credit: MPRNews.org)

...and then they decided to have the deadliest fucking war in American history over that comfort.  Spoiler alert: the Confederates lost both the war and their precious bullshit institution of slavery -- but even after the Emancipation Proclamation was issued, many Southern slave owners did not even pass the news of freedom to their slaves for months.

In keeping with the preservationist and racist mindset which occupied most Southerners’ brains, any attempt to integrate Black people into society during the Reconstruction period was stymied at every turn.  To them, despite Black people being de jure full citizens in accordance with the Civil Rights Act of 1866, we were still subhuman.  Due to Jim Crow laws, Ku Klux Klan terrorism, and other assorted nonsense, we made virtually no progress toward equality until the Civil Rights Movement and resulting laws such as the Civil Rights Act of 1964, the Voting Rights Act of 1965, and the Fair Housing Act of 1968.

“Well, you got what you wanted!  YOU’RE EQUAL!  Quit yer bitchin’!”

Ah, if only things worked that way in real life.  As previously noted, even if things are codified into law as changes, there are still people who try really hard to keep everything exactly the fucking same, so it does not end up happening in practice.  Things such as residual effects of redlining and continuing disproportionate and excessive imprisonment of minorities, amongst other issues, still affect people in the present day. In other areas, people exploit loopholes in order to lawfully discriminate against others they might deem “undeserving”.

Lots of things, especially when it comes to role of minorities in society, have historical precedents.  When arguing said precedents with conservative types, the conversation almost always leads to one of several (predictable) conclusions: the person believes that 1) negative historical events (e.g., slavery, Native American genocide, etc.) were not that bad; 2) those things did not happen at all; or 3) those things were bad, but somehow do not affect modern society.

Obviously, all three are emphatically wrong.  This is why typical conservative behaviour, even in this modern era in which information sharing is instantaneous, does not surprise me: often, the rhetoric is not rooted in reality, and often resorts to appeals to emotions to elicit a knee-jerk response.  This is not to say that this does not occur on liberal ends of the spectrum, but modern conservative rhetoric is rooted primarily in unjustified fear of change and anti-intellectualism.

Pictured: A screenshot I took of someone on a pro-President Biden post desperately trying to be oppressed.

This kind of shit is utterly exhausting.  Neoconservatism, in a nutshell, is people literally inventing problems and subsequently getting angry at their own creations.  It is the equivalent of setting up a bear trap, immediately stepping in it, and wondering why the fuck you’re stuck in said bear trap and your foot doesn’t work anymore. During the Obama administration, the only thing I would witness is people insisting (without any evidence, of course) that President Obama was the Antichrist and that he would usher in the New World Order and take everyone’s guns.  All zero of those things happened, of course, but when Donald Trump assumed the presidency, the rhetoric completely reversed, and he was named “God’s chosen" by evangelical figures, despite him having broken perhaps all of the Old Testament’s Ten Commandments.  Of course, as you can see with the above screenshot, clearly, they have returned to the Obama bitching method, but diminished, partially because President Biden is also an old, white male, and they don’t need to ask where he was born.

Pictured: what happens when you fuel millions of self-victimising people with QAnon conspiracy theories and possibly loads of Bang energy drinks.  Photo credit: ABC News

The hypocrisy is absolutely palpable amongst these types of people, and if I tried to sit here and continued to provide examples of conservative figures contradicting themselves, I would die either of old age or myocardial infarction, whichever happened first. The difference in the reaction to Black Lives Matter protests versus the storming of the U.S. Capitol on January 6, 2021 makes the double standard quite transparent: justice and equality, while technically codified into law, are clearly are not administered equally in modern-day America.  We’re still not like the others.

Our brand of conservatism, by and large, is the enemy of those two very important American ideals.

|the kid|