#fer reeves

[itsaleph]

[nixalegos]

*cracks knuckles*. Warlock business it is then!

How many servants, summons, slaves, employees, constructs, creations, beasts, demons, or otherwise does he have under his control?

A difficult question to answer. The Au-Bound is the name chosen by the oath held demons he has under truename binding. These are the demons most likely to be summoned as co-horts on adventuring, or patrolling his home, and count two major imps, a felhound, 4 separate sayaads, a shivarra, a beholder, a void walker and void lord, a Mo'arg guard, and two separate Eredar. Nix does not take slaves, nor hires servants. He finds the concept revolting in the former, and distasteful in the latter. (demons are excluded because they are not 'real' people, and thus, deserve less rights.) Constructs are a finnicky answer. Does the Rolo-hex count as a construct of hundreds of once intelligences now hollowed out and repurposed? A computer? A bunch of skulls and a liquid display screen? Does the jeeves formally possessed by a Mogu-Body Snatcher count as a robot, a jail cell, or as an android? The Reeves unit certainly doesnt count as having a soul. Do vehicles he's built count as creations? Does the Sovereign-Class defensive ward that semi- animates his house count? Nix does not own any beasts asides a few trophy animals fit for underground pit fights. He leaves them in @tyleinth's care and redoubt for her...zoo of critters. Magical and mechanical pets are often used as sentries or distractions, but count more towards home defenses then actual beings. And he has no employees. What he does happen to have is a very reliable way to contact at will employed contractors and go-fers to handle any sort of...situation he might have in his various holdings. (It's a tax thing. You get HUGE breaks if you prove you've hired enough adventurers independently. And this way he can't be sued if any said...situation arises from the actions of said contractors. That he pays for any such legal fees THEY might occur is just because he's SUCH a nice person. And wouldn't you know it, he keeps a running tab on just how much they technically owe him. As a friend.) Thanks Anon!

[talesfantastic]

"Didnae ask fer yer opinion, y'auld bampot!" The plush cat stomped on Reeve's desk for emphasis with his tail flicking fierce. Seemed Cait Sith was in a bit of a temper, or to be more precise, he felt overly passionate about the gold crown sitting atop his wee noggin.

As quick as he had been to rile, something in his programming reminded him of who he was talking to. One moment he was throwing a fit, the next his ears were lowered and his hands curled up in a gesture of shock. "Ah! Wha' I mean t' say is..." He changed stance with a little hop, and he practically brimmed with confidence. His gloved paw thumped his chest. "Leave th' public image t'me. Yer a corporate lad, all serious like. Let me bring th' charm an' whimsy."

There was a benefit to Cait being so darn cute, but mostly it was the fact that Reeve viewed his brainchild as an actual child. Still, he wasn't going to encourage such behavior. Leaning back in his chair to give the now-somewhat apologetic feline a warning look, he couldn't quite help a small smile. "Cait... while I appreciate your interest in the organization almost as much as I appreciate your help... I don't think we need to be putting you so front and center outside our ranks."

It wasn't even a worry they wouldn't be taken seriously (valid) or that he was uncomfortable just cutting him loose with that project (also valid) but that ingrained fear from back during ShinRa, back when Hojo and the old President were around, that something might happen if Cait were discovered.

Such fears were hard to let go, even now with him in charge of the largest political/military presence on Gaia with the WRO. "Why don't we work something out together?"

[homestuck-human-generator]

Name: Mr. Miya Ilbert Color: Deep Coffee #704241 Symbol: pumpkin Strife Specibus: woodwindkind Handle: globalCerulean Animal: iguana Pronouns: fi/fer/fer/fers/ferself Age: 13 Birthday: 332th day of the year Sexuality: aromantic Interests: radio-controlled model collecting and dowsing Dream Moon: derse Classpect: Prince of Space Land: Land of Altars and Sweets, a perfect place, with lovely Reeves Turtle consorts. It is a place full of balloons and crystalline stalagmites. Prometheus hungers. Instrument: lautenclavicymbel via homestuck-human-generator https://ift.tt/ft3BSyG

[summisdesiderantes]

[Private]

O' course. The name's Marissa. Fer the purpose of transparency, I'll inform ye of what ye may have been able to figure out on yer own if ye did some lookin'. I'm a ghoul, workin' fer the Baron of San Fernando as his domain's Reeve.

Now, I wouldn't exactly call Honey family myself. I've hardly spoken wit' the girl. But she means somethin' to someone closer to me, who's all distraught right about now, an' I've been asked to look into it.

What brings ye to Los Angeles? Yer kind cleared out of here some time ago, and as laissez-faire as the Baron of Hollywood may be, I doubt he'd take kindly to Sabbat on his territory. Now, I'm not about to police another domain. But, ye understand, if the Sabbat were interested in reclaimin' some of that old stompin' grounds, that'd be a bit of a security issue. So while I'd hate to risk hostilities 'tween us, seein' as we're lookin' fer the same thing, I do have to be wary of yer intentions as a precaution.

♚ - I suppose that is fair. I would appreciate it if you indulged me some questions in turn, I would like to know who you are, and your relation to this? Thankyou.

Ask away .

[nefepants]

I would let that cyber arm slap my ass into oblivion 

[thelastspeecher]

I was gonna put off posting this until tomorrow but fuck it, I finally finished up Jimmy's introduction in the Angie version of my Smallville AU, so I'm gonna post it NOW.

——————————————————————————————

              Angie followed Ford to the spot where Reeves Dam had broken.

              “I don’t really like bein’ ‘round here,” she mumbled.  “Bad memories.”  Ford looked back at her.

              “You don’t have to come with.”

              “No, I think I do.  Any time ya wander off on yer own, ya get into some sort of mischief.”

              “I’m a grown man,” Ford scoffed.  “I think I can take care of myself.”  They rounded a tree.  Both their jaws dropped.  “…On second thought, it probably is for the best that you came with.”  A red spaceship was laying on its side, pressed up against a large tree trunk and partially buried by debris.  Ford cautiously approached the ship.  “This looks like yours.  Well, other than the color.”

              “I think I prefer mine,” Angie said.  “The black version’s more fetchin’.”  She crossed her arms.  “Stanford, be careful!”

              “There’s Kryptonian writing on the outside,” Ford said.  “I want to get close enough to copy it down.”  He glanced back at Angie.  “And if you are truly concerned for my safety, why not accompany me to examine it closer?”

              “Did ya miss the green glowin’ rocks at yer feet?” Angie asked pointedly.  Ford looked down.  Sure enough, fist-sized clumps of Kryptonite-containing meteorites were scattered across the forest floor.  “Just…look, every time we’ve found a ship from m’ home planet, the person inside’s been bad news.  I’m worried this’ll be a continuation of the pattern.”

              “I’ll move quickly,” Ford reassured her.  He held up his phone to take a picture.  Before he could, however, someone grabbed his phone out of his hand.  “Hey!”  Ford spun around to frown at the man that had just emerged from the forest.  “That’s mine!”

              “What are you doing?” the man growled.  Angie winced.

              “Please excuse my friend,” she called.  “He’s too curious fer his own good sometimes, y’know?”  Ford shot a glare in Angie’s direction.  The man looked over as well.  He gasped.  The phone fell from his hand.  The man abandoned Ford to walk up to Angie.  Angie eyed him.  “Can I help ya, sir?”

              “It’s you,” the man breathed.  He wrapped his arms around Angie’s torso, squeezing tightly.  Angie’s eyes widened in horror.  “It’s you!”  Acting on instinct, Angie shoved the man off with as much force as she could muster.

              Ford scrambled out of the way as the man slammed against the crashed spaceship.  Hard.

              “Oops,” Angie said weakly.  Ford gaped at her.  “I panicked, okay?  I ain’t used to strange men walkin’ up to me ‘n actin’ like they know me ‘n huggin’ me!”  She rubbed the back of her neck.  “Is he- I didn’t kill him, did I?”  Ford bent over to take a closer look.

              “No.  He’s just knocked out,” he reported.  Angie sighed in relief.

              “Good.  Bring him over here.  I can carry him back to the house once he’s out of range of the meteor rocks.”

              “If you insist.”  Ford picked up his phone, put it back into his pocket, and then dragged the unconscious man over to Angie.  The movement pushed up the long sleeve of his jacket, revealing a silver wristband.  “Wait…”

              “Stanford!” Angie yelped as Ford inspected the wristband.  “What are ya-”

              “This is Kryptonian,” Ford said quietly.  Angie crouched next to him.  Ford showed her the emblem.  “It looks familiar, but it’s not any word nor letter I recognize.”  Angie swallowed.

              “That’s ‘cause it ain’t a word or a letter.  It’s a name.”  She met Ford’s eyes.  “It’s the symbol of the House of El.”

              “The same House of El that you come from?” Ford asked.  Angie nodded.  Ford looked back at the man.  He paled.  “Angie, he looks like you.”  Angie paled as well.  Not only did they have the same aquiline nose, but the man’s long hair was the same caramel color as hers.  “Could he be…?”

              “A relative?” Angie whispered.  “I- I don’t know.  My AI Pa ain’t told me much ‘bout the extended fam’ly.”  She stood.  “We’ll address that when he wakes up.  Fer now, we’ve got to bring him back to the farm.”

              “What about the spaceship?” Ford asked.  Angie chewed on her lip thoughtfully.  “Get the pickup truck?”

              “Get the pickup truck.”

              “I’ll make the call.”  Ford pulled his phone out.  He dialed the number for Lute, the person who was most likely to have the keys to the truck.  “Honestly, we should set up a towing business for intergalactic spacecrafts,” he muttered as he held the phone up to his ear.  He looked around.  Angie was already gone.  “One of these days I won’t look away for a brief second only to be alone when I look again.”

-----

              Naturally, by the time Ford and Lute got back to the farm, Angie was already there.  She paced back and forth in the farmhouse living room, glancing at the unconscious Kryptonian she’d sat in a kitchen chair.

              “It’s ‘bout time!” she griped as Ford and Lute walked in.  “He’ll wake up any second!”

              “Unlike some people, Ford ‘n I don’t have super-strength,” Lute retorted, crossing his arms.  Angie rolled her eyes.  “So’s puttin’ the spaceship in the truck was dif’cult.”

              “But ya did get it, right?”

              “Yes,” Ford replied.  “It’s parked in the barn right now.”

              “Good.”  Angie played with a strand of her caramel-colored hair.  “I’ll figure out what to do with it after we find out this feller’s deal.”

              “Why didn’t ya tie him up?” Lute asked.

              “He’d be able to break free of anything that ain’t magic or Kryptonite.  I didn’t want to waste good rope.  Speakin’ of Kryptonite…”  Angie walked up to Ford and handed him a small tin.  Ford recognized it immediately.  It was the cutely patterned lead-lined box she kept a sample of emergency Kryptonite in.  “I need ya to hold onto this while’s we chat with the feller.  Use it if’n he goes nuts.”  Ford nodded.  Angie looked at Lute.  “Wait in the kitchen.”  Lute’s jaw dropped.

              “Wh- why does Stanford get to stay?” he demanded, gesturing angrily at Ford.  “I’m yer twin!”

              “Stanford knows Kryptonian.”

              “But- that- ugh.  Fine,” Lute muttered.  The man began to stir in his chair.  Angie hurriedly pushed Lute out of the living room.  “I’m goin’!  I’m goin’!”  Lute disappeared into the kitchen.  Angie gestured for Ford to join her.  They stood in front of the man.  Ford put his hands behind his back, for once not hiding his twelve fingers, but rather what those twelve fingers were holding.

              “Ugh…”  The man opened his eyes.  Ford’s heart stopped.  The man’s eyes were the same bright blue as Angie’s.  Judging by her sharp inhale, she had noticed the same thing.  The man’s gaze skipped over Ford to stare at Angie.  “Did you knock me out?” he asked.  Angie straightened.

              “Yes,” she said firmly.  The man smirked.

              “Heh.  You don’t just have your mother’s looks.  You’ve got her spirit, too.”

              “You know my mother?” Angie asked.  The man nodded.  “How?”

              “Lara is- was my father’s sister.”

              “Then that makes us…”

              “Cousins,” the man said with another nod.  “I was even there the day you were born.”  Ford felt Angie tense next to him.  “For me, that day was a week ago.  I don’t know why you’ve already become a grown woman.  But I’d recognize you anywhere.”

              “I suspect your ship placed you in some form of stasis when it was submerged in the water of the dam,” Ford said.  The man scowled at him.

              “Who are you?” he snarled.  He got up from his chair.  Angie moved in front of Ford protectively.  “Do you have a human pet?”

              “A pet?!  Stanford is my friend,” Angie snapped.  She crossed her arms.  “Please, sit back down.”

              “Or what?”

              “I’ll make you,” Angie snarled.  The man raised an eyebrow.  “You might be bigger ‘n me, but I’ve got more experience with the gifts the yellow sun gives us.  Don’t test me.”

              “You seem confident.”

              “I’ve taken down Kryptonians before.”

              “There are- there are more of us?” the man asked.  He sat down in his chair again.  “Why didn’t you lead with that, Kara?”  Angie flinched slightly at the sound of her Kryptonian name.  While her Kryptonian first name was the same as her Earth middle name, they were pronounced slightly differently.  Hearing the Kryptonian pronunciation always seemed to startle her.

              “I didn’t lead with that ‘cause every other Kryptonian I’ve met thus far has tried to kill or maim or marry me,” Angie said softly.

              “What?!  Why?”

              “The reasons vary,” Angie said with a shrug.  She cocked her head.  “You callin’ me by my name reminded me that you ain’t told me yours yet.”

              “Jim-El.”

              “Jim-El,” Angie repeated softly.  “Well, Jim-El, my Kryptonian name might be Kara, but the folks what raised me didn’t know that.  So they named me somethin’ else.”  Jim-El’s lip curled in disgust.

              “What did they name you?” he asked.

              “Banjolina.  But I go by Angie.”

              “Ugh.”  Jim-El crossed his arms.  “Kara means ‘jewel’.  What could your weird Earth name possibly mean?”

              “It’s partially derived from ‘angel’,” Angie replied.  “I…I like it.”

              That’s news to me.  Angie notoriously despised her full first name.  Then again, fewer things motivate Angie as well as spite.  She might have gained a newfound appreciation for “Banjolina” after Jim-El reacted to poorly to it.

              “I guess I’ll have to come up with some sort of Earth name,” Jim-El sighed.

              “You could go by Jimmy,” Ford suggested.  Jim-El glared at him.

              “I didn’t ask for your opinion, human.”

              “Hey!”  Angie stepped closer to Jim-El.  ���Back off!  Yes, he’s human, but he’s a good person!  So are the humans who raised me!”

              “Of course the humans who raised you would be good people.  Your parents thought ahead before sending a newborn off into space!” Jim-El scoffed.  “When things started going south back home, they came up with a backup plan for your safety.”

              “I…I guess I never thought about that,” Angie said, her voice soft.  “It makes sense, that my birth parents wouldn’t have wanted to send me off into the great unknown without some sort of plan.”  Ford tucked the box containing the Kryptonite into his back pocket so that he could put a comforting arm around Angie’s shoulders.  “Were- were you part of the plan?” Angie asked.

              “Not officially.  Your parents didn’t know I had my own ship.  But I didn’t want you to be on your own on a strange planet.”  Jim-El’s face softened.  “You were so little.”  Angie sniffed quietly.  Jim-El stood.  “Kara…”

              “It’s- it’s okay,” Angie mumbled.  Ford squeezed her shoulders reassuringly.  “I just get a bit choked up when I think about- think about where I came from.”

              “I understand.”  Jim-El smiled kindly.  “I’m pretty pissed that I couldn’t take care of you like I wanted.”

              “Now that you’ve arrived, maybe you can make up for lost time,” Ford suggested.  Jim-El nodded.

              “That’s exactly what I want to do, human.”

              “His name is Stanford,” Angie said.  “And like I said, he’s my friend.  Please, treat him proper.  Treat my adoptive fam’ly proper.  Treat our farmhand proper.  Heck, treat the folks what make yer coffee at the Talon proper!  I- I’d like fer ya to stick ‘round, since I’ve got so much to learn from ya, but I can’t allow that if yer goin’ to treat humans poorly.”  She met Jim-El’s eyes.  “I grew up here.  These are my people.”

              “…Fine,” Jim-El ground out.  “I’ll treat humans like equals.  Since it’s the only way you’ll let me stick around.”  Tension left Angie’s shoulders.

              “Thank you.”  She smiled hesitantly.  “I’d- I’d like to learn more ‘bout Krypton from ya.”  Jim-El’s eyes lit up.

              “Nothing would make me happier, Kara.”

              “I’m glad that things seem to have worked out,” Lute said, poking his head into the living room.  “But Stan’s car just pulled up out front, so’s we better take care of that ship ‘fore he goes to the barn.”

              “Shoot!”  Angie looked at Ford.  “Distract him while I put the ship in the cellar?”  Ford nodded silently.  “Lute, come with.”

              “Don’t know how much help my weak human self is goin’ to be, but okay,” Lute muttered.  He followed Angie out the back door just as Stan entered through the front.  Stan strolled into the living room, whistling.  He stared at Ford and Jim-El.

              “Uh, who are you and why do you look more like Angie’s dad than Mr. McGucket does?” Stan asked slowly.  He cocked his head, eyeing Jim-El’s outfit, consisting of black leggings and a jacket that could maybe pass for leather, but still had the design of something from Star Wars.  “Also where the hell did you get those clothes?”

              “Jealous?” Jim-El asked snidely.  Stan crossed his arms with a scowl.  “I’m Kara’s cousin.”  He glanced at Ford.  “…Jimmy,” he said slowly.  Jim-El looked back at Stan.  “And you are?”

              “Stan.  The farmhand.  The buff nerd you’re standing next to is my twin brother.”  Stan’s brow furrowed.  “Who’s Kara?”

              “That’s Angie’s middle name,” Ford put in.

              “Oh.  You’re Angie’s cousin?” Stan asked.  Jim-El nodded.  “Kinda weird you singled her out.  If you’re her cousin, you’re Lute’s cousin and Fiddleford’s cousin and all the other ones’ cousin, too.”

              “Kara’s the only one I’ve met so far,” Jim-El said.

              “Huh.”  Stan didn’t seem satisfied.  “Well.”  He walked up to Jim-El and held out his hand.  “Should probably shake your hand or whatever, Jimmy.”  Jim-El shook the offered hand.  Ford saw his blue eyes turning red too late.  The wall directly behind Stan caught on fire.  Stan spun around.  “What the fuck?!”  The back door slammed open.

              “I’m on it!” Lute shouted, racing into the living room with a glass of water.  He threw the water on the fire, extinguishing it.  “What happened?”

              “Hell if I know!” Stan said.

              I know.  Heart sinking, Ford watched Jim-El rub his eyes.  Heat vision.  Ford and Lute had helped Angie in the training of her heat vision, which manifested the first time she experienced attraction to someone.  The implication of Jim-El’s heat vision manifesting shortly after meeting Stan wasn’t good, to say the least.  The back door opened and closed as Angie entered.

              “What happened?” she asked.  Stan looked over at her.

              “The wall caught fire for no reason,” he said.  He shrugged.  “But I guess it’s still not the craziest thing I’ve seen this week.”  Angie stilled.  She looked over at Jim-El with a stony expression.  Ford winced.  She was doing her best to keep it under wraps, but the entire family and Ford had figured out Angie was nursing a massive crush on Stan.

              So much for a drama-free family reunion.

[itsaleph]

Fer

[patricia-von-arundel]

Hey, also saw someone say 14th century English was "Old English" while trying to claim he knew a fucking thing about etymology. What a night!

This is Old English:

(From Beowulf, exact date of origin unknown but pre-Norman Conquest [1066])

This is Middle English:

(From "The Reeve's Tale," in Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, 14th century)

I know a lot of you probably can't easily read either when written that way. Not surprising, that's fine, and is also not my point. Let's put it this way - I studied Medieval History and Middle English. Second one is no problem.

First one? Fuck if I know. Old English is impenetrable. I was expected to handle Middle English and Medieval Latin. Anything in Old English? That shit was translated for us.

The Middle English is this:

Heere bigynneth the Reves Tale

At Trumpyngtoun nat fer fro Cantebrigge

Ther gooth a brook and over that a brigge

Upon the whiche brook ther stant a melle

And this is verray sooth that I yow telle

A millere was ther dwellynge many a day

As any pecok he was proud and gay

Pipen he koude and fisshe and nettes beete

And turne coppes and wel wrastle and sheete

And by his belt he baar a long panade

And of a swerd ful trenchant was the blade

"Here begins the Reeve's Tale -

In Trumpington, not far from Cambridge

There's a brook, and over it a bridge

On the brook there stands a mill

And this is the very truth I tell [you].

A miller had lived there for many days

Like a peacock, he was proud and GAY [it rhymes, I'm keeping it]

He could play pipes, and fish, and fix nets,

And drink a lot, and wrestle, and shoot.

...He felt the need to wear a big-ass sword on his belt because he was a preening dickhead, and I give up on cadence and rhythm. "

My translation. Shockingly, I'm sure. 🤣🤣🤣

The Old English, uh... I see ash... and thorn... but the words? Hell if I know. I pulled up the Old English in text, and knew one word: "æþelinges." "Ætheling" was the Anglo-Saxon term for a prince! Great. I'm an Old English scholar. Bite me, Tolkien.

Anyway, if you don't know 14th-century English was not "Old" English, I doubt your etymological history, too. Sorry.

A TIME-TRAVELING MEDIEVAL THIEF!!!

(16th century was smack-dab in the Renaissance, idiot. There are time periods besides "Classical," "Medieval," and "Victorian."

I mean, assuming "16th CE" means "16th century CE." Maybe it means "16th Chaucer Era.")

[concealeddarkness13]

WHG 15 Post-Games Imposter Syndrome Part 23

The day after part 22! Tagging: @sparkles-and-hens, @knmartinshouldbewriting, @maple-writes, @pen-of-roses, @thoughts-of-nora, and @ratracechronicler (also thanks for Hugo!)!

The next day, I snuck out after Hugo and the dumb Peacekeepers taking him. I didn’t show myself until the Peacekeepers had already dropped him off. I just slid in next to him and grinned and winked.

He stared at me for a few seconds before he just looked away, as if he was completely unsurprised. When we walked up to the captain, she frowned at us. “Another one?”

I nodded. “Yes, ma’am! They wanted to see how well I was, working on a ship.”

She just beckoned for us to follow her, and I followed with a grin. I already loved her. Hopefully, I wouldn’t have to punch her. The crew had gathered for a meal, and we went there. She looked back at me. “You got a name, swab?”

It couldn’t hurt to say my full name. I smiled. “Triel Reeves.”

She paused for a second with a frown, but then she just shrugged. Perfect! “Fresh blood, everyone.” I grinned wider. I hadn’t been just a crew member on a ship for a year. She lowered her voice and turned back to me, pointing out the cook and the quartermaster. “And that over there’s the other greenhorn we can’t get a name out of. You two’ll be working together tarring the ratlines.” Oh boy! “Hope you like heights. First things first, though.” She walked over to the quartermaster and talked with him for a second.

He yelled for everyone to get ready to set sail. And called for us to haul lines to help unfurl the sails. Perfect! I grinned as we climbed and got started. This was so familiar!

“Fancy meeting you here,” Hugo said quietly. Oh yeah. There was a reason I was here.

I shrugged and kept my voice too lighthearted. “Well, I guess the Capitol decided this would be good for me.” I paused and grinned again. “Anyway, I haven’t done this kind of work for a while. I love heights.”

He rolled his eyes at my first comment. Good. He got the lie. As we switched new lines to haul, he spoke up. “And how do you feel about tar?”

“Hey, I love everything to do with ships. And I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty.”

He didn’t respond. We finished up with our task and started with tarring the lines shortly after. We climbed up with brushes as the bosun hauled the tar bucket up with a pulley.

I just kept grinning. This was amazing! But the air felt hard to breathe. It wasn’t affecting my memory, like it did with Hugo, but something was going on. I felt a little more peaceful. Less willing to fight. As I started working, I nodded. “I can see what you mean about the air. It’s affecting my thoughts a little.”

“I try to breathe through my shirt sometimes, although I can’t say the smell is preferable.” He smirked, but it didn’t last. “Yeah. Just…try and remind yourself of things. Y’know, in the past. Hold onto memories you don’t want to lose. You shouldn’t’ve come out here and risked…I don’t know why you did this.”

Because you’re my friend, and I won’t let you be alone. I tried for humor first. “Like I could ever forget you.” But then I became serious again. “And I wasn’t going to leave you to suffer alone. I probably won’t be able to come every day, and the Capitol might realize what I did and not let me come at all after this. But I’m not going to leave you alone. It’s just an added bonus that I might be able to punch some bastards today.”

He perked up at the last sentence. “Well, I’m obligated to admit some of these salts’re okay, but the bastards’re fair game for punching. I will emphatically do nothing to stop you should you feel punchy.”

“Noted.” I looked around as I kept tarring. The question was: who were the salts and who were the bastards? “I must admit, they’ve done their homework. This is remarkably like the real thing.”

He nodded, and he sounded spiteful. “Yeah. But I bet it’s just like an old arena or—I think I already said that. Never mind. So, uh, you…but you have been with the real thing, though. The real ocean and everything. It’s…what’s different? Does the ship still pitch like this? And the jobs—do you…Do you think maybe I’d do good out there, with the real thing?” He sounded more hopeful now.

I watched him with a smile before I said anything. He was doing very well. He seemed to be at home here. “It pitches worse, sometimes. I’ve been through a couple of storms, and it’s an adventure. The air is saltier than this, and the wind blows a lot more most of the time. There are times when it’s completely still, and we have to row to move the ship. And you’re certainly promising. I’ll make sure you get your sea legs yet.”

He looked so excited, but before he could say anything else, the bosun yelled up at us. “HEY! WHICH ONE OF YOU IDIOTS JUST GOT TAR ON MY FUCKING UNIFORM?! These things don’t grow on trees, you know! Do I look like a ratline to you?”

I rolled my eyes. “Like hell we did,” I muttered. While Hugo mimed dumping the rest of the bucket on the bosun’s head.

We climbed down, and the stupid bosun was stomping around, muttering under his breath. But of course he made his words loud enough for us to hear when we got down. “Arena-saboteurs like that good-fer-nothing Carolee.”

Oh boy. So, he was certainly one of the bastards. He glanced over at us and threw the tar bucket at Hugo, who caught it, but the tar still got all over him. Shit. I whirled on the bosun and punched him straight in the face.

He fell down way too easily. Weak. I spit at his feet and stood over him crossing my arms. “You piece of shit. You’d already have been thrown overboard if you were on my ship.”

He lunged for me, but it was so weak, he just brushed past me. But Hugo lunged for the bosun and punched him in the gut. “Not to my friend, you don’t!”

I felt a twinge of happiness, and I grinned as bastards jumped from the quarterdeck or burst through a door. Perfect. I started grinning. This was going to be fun!

Okay, most of it was a blur, but I totally punched the woman with the bucket so that the bucket flew and hit one of the two people trying to corner Hugo. Someone decided to bring a mop, but I just ripped it out of his hands and snapped it, but I lost it when someone got a punch in. There were too many, and I kept getting hit, but when I stumbled Hugo was there, and he helped me out of the way of the bosun trying to get a good kick in. Loser.

When the quartermaster finally broke it up, Hugo was on the ground, and I helped him up with a grin. I bowed my head at the quartermaster. “I’m sorry about that fuss. I just had to defend my friend’s honor.” I gestured at Hugo, and he still had tar on him. And now blood. Nice.

“I don’t care about anyone’s honor—I care about who’s starting stupid fights on this ship. You’re lucky I saw it wasn’t you two.” He hauled the bosun to his feet and pointed at one of the others who had been part of the fight. “Help that one to the infirmary, and you don’t get to see the galley until tomorrow. I’ll see you all get double duty for this, and you’ll thank me to not break out the cat o’ nine.” He hesitated. “We don’t…actually have one, but still. Behave your damn selves. We’re not pirates, for heaven’s sake.” I made a face at him after he pointed us to a new task. Cleaning the toilets, of course.

Hugo smirked over at me at the pirates comment, and I shot him a middle finger back. I was still angry over the stupid bosun. I couldn’t believe he actually did that. “No, you are worse than pirates. We would never turn on one of our own like that. And if someone did, I would have gotten rid of them immediately.”

We started working, and Hugo glanced over at me. “So, are you not allowed to mess with each other? Well, I know that guy wasn’t just messing around…I think he knows something about what we did. I don’t think anyone else does. And now we pissed him off…” He frowned but shrugged. “Heh. He knows what’s coming to him if he tries crossing us, eh, hat lady?” He grinned.

I grinned back. “Yeah, if he even looks at us funny, I’m going to deck him again.” I paused. “And we do a lot of stupid shit to each other. One time, Tess put two-sided stickers on the way up to the crow’s nest, and it took ages for Lily to even notice she had stickers that said ‘fuck you’ on her palms. And Shine—” Shit. Not again. I forced myself to continue. “They always threw machine parts at everyone. I think they secretly had a stash of parts just for throwing.” I paused, swallowing hard and pushing the thoughts away. “And Nesri likes sparring, so we have fight nights, especially between her and Tauren.”

“Secret stash.” Hugo snickered to himself. But he didn’t say anything else.

I just kept working, trying to figure out what the air was doing. It wasn’t affecting my memory, so what else? Either way, it was starting to feel suffocating. I snarled. “I can’t believe you have to deal with this shit every day. This air is suffocating.”

“You shouldn’t have to deal with it too. You shouldn’t have come here.” He bristled, but then he calmed down again. “…But I’m kinda glad you did. But don’t come back.”

I scoffed. “I’ll decide if I come back or not.” I paused. It would be good to distract him. “So, you’ve heard all about my friends. Would you like to talk about yours?”

He nodded wearily to my first sentence, and then he coughed. “What? Why?” A little defensive, but understandable. “Uh. Well, I guess if we’re ever gonna be all on a ship together…”He mouthed something to himself before he started. “There’s Alex. He’s the popular one. Our resident hero.” He snickered. “Wants to be the guy with the sword, taking on demon pirates robbing us, i.e. normal pirates. Good guy. Mean cook too, though—galley’s probably where he’s headed, to be honest. And there’s Luc, stands for Lucifer, but they’ve got him cleaning up at the church! Met him out thieving, which should tell you how much of a saint he is. You’d like him. Always spoiling for a fight. He’ll be a gunner for sure. Wonder if he’s caught the guy he’s trying to reap vengeance on by now…Anyway, then there’s Tally. Do not pick on him. I will kick your ass. He’s a quiet kid, but he’s alright. Shy around people, but he can play a sharp guitar and spin a tale that’ll singe the hair off your brow. Big on animals and nature and stuff, good at building…okay, traps for hunters, so maybe he’ll be okay as a carpenter? I dunno what good’s a carpenter gonna do on a ship like yours. But we’ll be useful.”

I nodded. They sounded wonderful. “They’ll do very well on my ship. As will you.” I smiled over at him. “They sound like wonderful people. I’ll be happy to meet them. And what job would you like to do on my ship?” I cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, I’ll be happy just to be there.” But it looked like he had something in mind.

I grinned. “Well, then I’ll make a new job: The Person Who’s Just Happy To Be Here. And you can walk around grinning the whole time.”

“We all know that’s exactly what sullen teenagers are for.” He gave me his best scowl.

I grinned back at him. And we kept working, until the ship landed back at the harbor. The Peacekeepers came and took Hugo, and I followed. They finally noticed me a little bit later and stopped and stared at me for a few seconds.

One of them pointed at me. “You! You’re not supposed—”

And I punched her too. Enough to make her fall unconscious, and then I whirled on the other Peacekeeper and did the same. I called for Hugo to run, and we both ran together.

When we got to the entrance, Hugo copied my bow with a grin, and he ran off. I grinned after him and ran off, back toward my prison.

[papas-majadas]

* DVD Pick Ups fer the Week *

I've never seen 'The 'Burbs' or 'Money Pit'; but Joe Dante directed the former -- so it has to be good.

That 'Magnificent Seven' remake is so underrated. A lot of fun -- and Denzel doing a Bass Reeves impersonation is so dope.

There's nothing about 'Monty Python & the Holy Grail' that hasn't already been said.

Finally getting around to watching 'Nobody'. Hope it lives to the hype . . .

The song 'Streets of Philadelphia' by Bruce Springsteen off thr movie 'Philadelphia' shlaps, man.

[indiacater]

Was hoping to have the first part or chapter posted yesterday but that didn't happen. Here you guys go I hope you enjoy it.

Disclaimer: This story is going to include topics of racism, sexism, prostitution, sex and violence. I do not own the characters of TRR nor the world of RDR2. Both are owned by their respective companies.

Tagging: @bobasheebaby @ao719 @bebepac @hopefulmoonobject @cordonianroyalty @kingliam2019 @dcbbw @radlovedreamer @texaskitten30 @darley1101 @sashatrr

PART ONE

Liam rides into the near barren town of Armadillo, hopeful that the person he’s believe can help him is there. After dismounting from his horse and looks around. “This might be all for nothing" he thought to himself as he walked towards the sheriff’s office. Once inside he spots the sheriff lounging in his chair, legs of the desk as he reads the paper. Liam tapped on the desk to get the sheriff’s attention.

The sheriff shot his head up to see who had disturbed his peace and quiet. He took a brief look at the blond haired man and rose to greet him.

“Sheriff Drake Walker. What can I do ya fer?” he asked as he leaned nonchalantly on his desk. Liam respectfully removes his hat and responds “I’m looking for a fella named Jèan Reeves. I wish to request their services and I heard that he was in or near this area.”

Sheriff Walker shrugs his shoulders as he dryly laughs and goes back to his paper. Liam moved around to the front of the desk upset and confused. “And what the hell is so funny?”

Sheriff Walker looks up again from his paper. “Well first, Jéan isn’t the type you go looking for.” He says watching the blond man stand stoic trying not to look offended. “To answer your question. Yes Jéan was here.” He then tossed his head towards the cell where Liam saw four men residing in them. “Collected bounties on all them" As Drake leaned forward on his desk. “However Jéan went out near 5 days ago on a request I ask for.”

Liam just stood there, biting the inside of his cheek trying to think of what to do now. “ Well where did Jéan go for this job? I need his help and as you can understand.” Again Drake chuckles which begins to agitate Liam as he slams his hand down on the desk. “JUST WHAT THE HELL IS DAMN FUNNY?!” he shouted. Drake leans back again in his chair. “I’m laughing because you’re an upper crust, Saint Denis rich boy. Jéan is someone whose help you'd never want. You were better off looking for help from the safety of your golden walls.” Drake says as he watches Liam’s jaw tightened.

By now Liam has taken more insults than he was willing to take. “Why would you think that? What is it about Jéan that I would find unsavory?” Liam spat. “Jéan is descended from a well respected law man, a talented shooter, a renowned tracker, and medical school graduate. I need their help and came all the way here to get it. Why are you trying to turn me away?”

“Because Jéan is a colored. Their granddaddy, you spoke highly of was a colored. And last I checked your lot ain’t too kind to coloreds"

“Well ain’t that the pot calling the kettle black my friend. Ain’t you lawmen herding them up and sending them out to the work camps? “ he said as he stood up with his hands on his hips. “My name is Liam Rhys and I need to find Jéan Reeves. If you know where Jéan is then please tell me so we don’t have to pleasant each other’s company no further.”

Drake yawns and stretches. “Well Jèan should be back in town by ‘morrow afternoon. Was headed west in New Hanover. So I would suggest you go grab yourself a meal, a bed for the evening because you’re better off waiting. As I have said before Jèan ain’t the type of person you go looking for.” Once again Drake goes back to his paper.

Liam puts back on his hat and briskly walks out of the sheriff’s office. Never feeling so angry and insulted. Feeling lost and not a lot of options he headed towards the inn and got himself a room. When evening came he went and got some food in him from downstairs doing his best to steer clear of the drunks and working girls. Liam tried through the night to sleep but barely could. He dug through his pocket to pull out his father’s Platinum watch and remembering his last moments of seeing father alive. Being pushed out of the way as his father was repeatedly hit with bullets, the sounds of his stepmother horrified screams, the hunger crazed look of the scared face, fat gangster as he stood over father as he delivered the final shot ending his life. With the lacking sleep bringing back painful memories Liam gets out his map and sees that New Hanover is a half day away. He went to go pack up his things and get his horse. He wasn’t going to listen to a rude, podunk sheriff, with his head up his ass. Jèan Reeves is his only shot at getting justice and he’s not going to wait around.

As he got his horse and lit a lantern he took off. Despite not knowing where in New Hanover Jèan is or what Jèan looks like he was determined to keep going. After about a couple of hours the morning sunrise began to rise. He stopped to put out his lantern and took a second to see his surroundings. He continues on for a bit longer when he spots an injured solider laying by a tree by the road. Liam immediately stopped and dismounts.

“You’re injured sir. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Immediately the “soldier" springs up brandishing a small knife. “Give me your money and goods now, rich boy" Liam begins to back away when he’s struck hard from behind. As hits the ground he sees a heavy set man, wearing no shirt and in overalls holding a club that he uses again to hit Liam with. He hit Liam a few more times before the deafening sound of a gunshot rang out. Seconds later another, closer shot rang out. Liam opened his eyes wide enough to see the attackers on the ground dead.

Liam turned over to see a figure coming towards him. He could barely make out his savior as the lack of sleep, fear and beating cause him to fall unconscious. The stranger kneels down to examine Liam injuries. Luckily there were no broken bones, and wasn’t seeing any evidence of a concussion. The stranger brings Liam’s horse to his body and hoisted him onto it back. The stranger then grabbed the reigns and calls over theirs. As the stranger mounts they tie the reigns to their horse and begins a steady pace back to the town of Armadillo.

Hours later Liam groggily wakes up and feeling the pain of his attack. He slowly sits up and sees that he’s back in his room he rented at the inn. As he gets up he looks around and see his stuff was not touch or missing. He checked his pocket and sees he still has his father’s pocket watch. Feeling relieved he limps to the window. Outside he sees the unhelpful sheriff having a heated conversation with a unusually dressed colored woman. He then sees Drake pointing to his window and both walking in direction of the inn. About a minute later the door opened and Drake and the stranger walk in.

The colored woman steps forward with her hands on her hips. She looks Liam up and down. And with a smirk speaks. “I’m Jèan Reeves. I've been told you were looking for me.”

[cherry-gemz]

Omg 🥺 @keanureevesisbae

HE’S BABY AND FOREVER WILL BE

[nerv0usm3chanic]

A blonde woman slipped into Kingsmen Mechanics. Glancing around carefully. No one in the front, good. She would need to be fast. She bolted to the front counter, and placed two gifts down. One was a punker necklace with a silver skull, and two small feathers. The other, was a necklace that had a silver wrench, and two feathers. The woman then dashed back out the front door, as fast as she could. Onto her motorcycle, reeving the engine, and taking off.

While there was no one present to see the woman arrive, there were three Kingsmen in the shop itself. All three men were puzzling over a troublesome engine block when Lucan hears the familiar buzz and rumble of a motorcycle rolling up. He wanders over to the open garage door to investigate.

“Now who’s rollin’ up fer us?” He ponders as he spies the familiar motorbike parked out front. He hadn’t seen that bike in quite some time, but such a unique vehicle was hard for a cycle aficionado like Lucan to forget. Seeing a tall blonde woman bolt out of the shop and straddle the bike before revving and dashing away. He blinked and went around to the front of the shop to see what could have made her visit so short.

One quick look around didn’t show anything obvious, but on approaching the front desk, he spotted the two necklaces. There was an almost audible click in Lucan’s mind as these gifts appeared to match the several trinkets and gifts that had been left around the shop and around town.

“Well...Ah know who gave meh all o’ them presents...”

[animus-inspire-archive]

“You enjoying the view over there?”

It is rare that someone feels compelled to seek out the pleasure in his own perspective. Even more rare is this sultry side to the gunman that is currently on full display; clawed hand gripping onto a headboard for leverage; the other teasing a sensual trail down his own arched body. All fer my eyes only.

The thrill of possessiveness curls deep into his abdomen. Strange it seems for one so avidly independent in his every day life, a man respectful in their relationship that each of them are his own person. Yet it is precisely that which makes this so potent. This is a private vista that no other will ever get to see and that coiling inside goes so deep it practically hurts as Vincent begins to touch himself, all upon his command.

“Keep going...” Reeve can hear how different his voice sounds, deliberate as per usual in the orders but low with longing. For whilst it is Vincent that is bowed upon his bed, desire is a taut tension strung between them both as he slowly paces at the base, eyes trained on each and every one of the movements in front of him, “Good.”

“Now why don’t you spread your legs wider, Vincent...” He reaches out and presses a thumb, brief but insistent to the inside of the knee that has been lowered to the bed, leaning forwards so that one of his own has edged onto the lip of the mattress. Unlike the gunman, Reeve is still mostly dressed. Though he is without the extra defense of that idiosyncratic blue overcoat; his shirt is loose and open, belt already unbuckled. He is clearly aroused, material tenting, a higher colour spread across cheekbones and down his throat, hair now falling around dancing dark eyes as they lower to watch, “...And let me see more of that view.”

[ask-reeve-tuesti-archive]

She naps on you for a while and wakes up calmer but curious. And unintentionally annoying with lots of meowing and batting at things

One not to discourage curiosity, especially when calm, Reeve lets it go on as much as possible, even scritching the Meowth behind the ears a few times and not minding the persistent meows. The piling files have been growing and he is idly tapping his pen against them, concentrating on the ramifications of ground side gentrification, when Kellas gets to the point of hovering a beige paw at their edge with all the power of feline mischief spread across her features. 

In the blink of an eye, she swipes, scattering the painstaking efforts of his employees to the floor.

“Hades upon you, Kellas!” <--> “Oh fer cryin’ out lood!”

Two voices chime out at the same time, yet in a symbiotic echo to the other. Reeve grimaces at the Pokémon and moves to sort through the mess of papers as another feline form pops up from behind him, white gloved fists wheeling in air, “OooOh och na ye dinnae! Noo ye have tae answer tae me~!”