#incorrigible prisoners

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"PUNISHMENT CELLS NECESSARY AT JAIL," Toronto Star. February 28, 1913. Page 11. --- Cannot Be Done Away With, But Some Ventilated Ones Should Be Built. ---- NEW MOSS PK. BY-LAW ---- Following the request of the city for a report on the dungeons or dark cells in Toronto Jail, Inspector R. W. Bruce Smith has reported that punishment cells for refractory prisoners cannot be done away with.

"I strongly argue that at least three properly ventilated punishment cells be provided by the Property Commissioner at an early date," says the report. "Perhaps some isolated part of the building would be used temporarily for punishment cells, and do away with having these located in the basement."

The controllers yesterday sent the report on to the Property Commissioner.

Although Works Commissioner Harris advised against giving Robert Armstrong, a civic employe, sick pay, the Board of Control this afternoon decided to give him three weeks' salary. He has been an employe of the city for twenty-eight years.

"Inasmuch as Mr. Armstrong has not been, in any sense, a permanent employee of the department, I cannot commend sick pay allowance.

"If your Board desire that men so employed be regarded as permanent, will you kindly instruct to that effect, inasmuch as it will cover over two hundred men, who will also be entitled to one-half day a week and two weeks' holidays per year."

A new by-law law will have to be passed to supply the funds for the city to buy Moss Park for $60.000. The funds were not regularly provided and the Board of Control this afternoon recommended that the matter be attended to.

The Board of Control will meet the Board of Education to discuss the Technical school plans on Wednesday morning. The board fixed the date this afternoon.

Recommendations that the proposed road through Mount Pleasant Cemetery be made straight, instead of circituous, were contained in letters from the Moore Park Ratepayers' and North End Citizen's Associations. The board will visit the cemetery and look over the situation.

[zombiedeers]

I can't even lie I'm such a big fan of the Anti-Pines family

Not just Anti-Mabel, either, as much as I love that evil little shit, but we have brief descriptions of all 4 of the Anti-Pines twins from the Shmeb-You-Unlocked site!!!! I need to doodle them all at some point

If you don't know uhhh

Anti-Dipper is an "incorrigible flirt"

Anti-Stan is a "charity obsessed hippie"

Anti-Ford is a "wannabe YouTube star/part-time DJ"

Anti-Waddles is "the first pig to ever go to prison for armed robbery"

Anti-Soos is a "Forbes Billionaire"

I don't think I've seen art of any of them besides Anti-Mabel, I should search for some though

[vroom--vrooming]

Armando Aretas x Doctor!Reader

There might be a reason why Armando gets into too many prison fights

The door to the infirmary creaks open, and you glance up from your desk, where you’re sorting through patient files. The sight that greets you is one you’ve become more accustomed to than you’d like: Armando Aretes, flanked by two guards, his shirt smeared with blood and his expression unreadable.

"Doctor," one of the guards says, nodding to you. "He’s been in another fight."

You sigh, pushing back your chair and standing. "Put him on the table," you instruct, your tone professional, though your heart races a little faster every time Armando is brought in. He’s notorious, dangerous, and yet there’s something about him that draws you in despite yourself.

Armando is led to the examination table, and he sits down with a grunt, the guards standing close by. You approach, your eyes quickly assessing the damage. Cuts and bruises mar his face, a gash above his eyebrow bleeding steadily.

"This might sting," you warn, reaching for the antiseptic.

His dark eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the noise of the prison fades away. There’s an intensity in his gaze that makes you shiver, though you try to ignore it, focusing on your task.

He hisses as you dab the antiseptic on his wounds, his muscles tensing under your touch. "You should be more careful," you say softly, though you know it’s pointless. Fights are a part of life here, especially for someone like Armando.

"Careful?" he repeats, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. "Not much room for that in here, Doc."

You continue to clean his wounds, trying to keep your hands steady. His proximity, the warmth of his skin under your fingertips, makes it difficult. "You know, if you keep this up, you’ll spend more time in my infirmary than in your cell."

He chuckles, a low, rough sound that sends a thrill through you. "Maybe that’s the plan."

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. "You’re incorrigible."

His gaze sharpens, and he shifts slightly, the movement drawing your attention to the lean, hard lines of his body. "Why do you do it?" he asks suddenly, his voice quieter, more serious. "Why do you work here?"

You pause, meeting his eyes again. "Because someone has to," you reply honestly. "Because everyone deserves care, no matter who they are."

For a moment, something unreadable flickers in his eyes, but he quickly masks it, leaning back slightly as you finish bandaging his hand. "You’re too good for this place," he murmurs, almost to himself.

You look at him, surprised by the softness in his tone. "And you’re too stubborn for your own good," you reply, trying to lighten the mood.

He laughs again, the sound sending a warmth through you. "Touché, Doc."

You step back, your job done, but you find yourself reluctant to leave. "Try to stay out of trouble, Armando," you say, your voice softening despite yourself.

He stands, towering over you, and for a moment, you think he might say something more. But then the guards are leading him away, and you’re left standing there, your heart pounding.

As he disappears through the door, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Armando Aretes is dangerous, not just because of his reputation, but because of the way he makes you feel. And in a place like this, feelings can be a dangerous thing.

But as you return to your desk, you can’t help but think about the look in his eyes, the way he said you were too good for this place. Maybe, just maybe, there’s more to him than meets the eye.

[insatiable-hungey]

You know what I want to see more of?

Ankh Morpork Souveniers

SPECIFICALLY

Lace bobbins

So, info dump time, round world historical lace bobbins are made from wood or bone, specifically horse or cow shin bones, and they can be plain or decorated. English midland style bobbins have beads called spangles to weigh them down and keep them flat.

Historically you had a large portion of poor and working class women making lace (because it's tedious, repetitive, and was worth a fair amount compared to other home crafts of the time) and they would often sit in their front gardens/on the street/in their doorways making lace because they needed good light.

Now, people would wander by and see what people were working on/what could be purchased, so one way people would promote things, say an election candidate, a moral bible message or an event (like a hanging) would be with engraved bobbins.

Bobbins, the free pens of the semi- literate world

They would also be given as gifts to the lacemaker from family members or sweethearts, sometimes with names or messages etched into them (theres a saucely one with 'kis me quick my mome is comin' etched into it in the Cowper & Newton Museum)

Now back to the Disc.

Thanks to Guards Guards we know that there is lacemaking on the Disc because Vetinari is reading a book on it in prison.

Ergo, there are lace makers*

Lacemakers who would go head over heels to be brought a tiny dwarf battle bread shaped bobbin by their friend who visited Koom Valley, or be gifted an antique troll bone bobbin that sparkles with tiny diamond flecks (new troll bone products since been outlawed everywhere but Uberwald much like the round world's ivory laws)

But most of all

I want to see hanging bobbins.

You know with absolute certainty that CMOT dibbler is hawking badly made bobbins, made from the finest (rat) bones yessir, to watchers of the seasons hangings.

Which means after the events of going postal...

There are ALBERT SPANGLER commemorative SPANGLED BOBBINS

VETINARI PROBABLY COMMISSIONED THEM

I AM LOSING MY MIND over moist von lipwig having to deal with the shipping hassle of every lacemaker and their aunt sending a bobbin to their far distant friends COMMEMORATING HIS OWN DEATH

I'M TOTALLY NORMAL ABOUT THIS I SWEAR

*Vetinari would 100% enjoy lacemaking**, as it is all about following the strings and making sure they are heading where they need to go to complete the pattern.

**He would attend the Thursday morning club because lace ladies are incorrigible gossips and know everything about everyone

EDIT:

Ohmygod I forgot about the potential of souvenier PINS

[sometimesijustfeellikescreaming]

Apparently, Boot Camp Doesn't Have Lessons in Subtlety

Rating: T - Word Count: 3.5k

Read on Ao3

SUMMARY:

Benny DeMarco doesn't get paid enough to sleep in the same barrack as the Bucks at the POW camp in the winter months once everyone has to start sharing bunks…

Buck and Bucky are sharing a bunk and let's just say they are not subtle about anything that is going on in that bed. If anyone was oblivious to the feelings going on between the two of them before, it's never been more obvious than now.

Benny DeMarco is pretty over it, but he'll also defend them to his dying breath. Oh, and he's taken to gossiping about them with John Brady.

OR

A companion fic to my 5+1 Clegan bedsharing fic In your arms (I think I might survive) giving a humorous outsider perspective from the men of the 100th and those sharing the barrack with Buck and Bucky.

Benny DeMarco does not get paid enough to put up with petty shit in life. Specifically, the Bucks. Specifically how not subtle they are about their obvious feelings for each other.

God, could they be more obvious?

It was obvious from the moment Bucky came walking in the gates asking if Buck made it. Sure, the two were best friends and that was a normal question, but anyone who has eyes could've seen the way Bucky's whole demeanor changed once he caught sight of his "best friend."

Best friends my ass.

Best something, though, that's for sure.

It's usually not horribly distracting or overt, though. They pass as friends most of the time unless Bucky is drunk, Benny supposes, or they're arguing in which case they act like a goddamn married couple. They fly under the radar pretty easily at the prisoner-of-war camp for that reason. No danger, really. The Nazis would have their heads for any kind of association. Everyone knows how the Germans feel about that sort of thing. It's not spoken about. Hell, most people everywhere don't look too kindly on it, but DeMarco's not the kind of man who thinks somebody should be murdered because of the way they're living their life. It's not like some happiness in another person is worthy of the death sentence. That's just madness. And Buck and Bucky are some of DeMarco's best friends, he could never feel hatred toward them.

Annoyance? So much. And in increasing amounts...

See, they were fine until it got cold at night then Benny is certain everyone in the whole of their Barracks became painfully aware of the fact that they were painfully in love with each other because — goddamn it — they were sleeping in the same bunk and if it wasn’t obvious before that the two were hopelessly smitten with each other, well, after that it certainly was.

For one thing, Buck Cleven has the worst case of puppy dog eyes that Benny has ever seen. He’s had it bad for a while now (since before Benny went down and was still back at base) with his little soft smiles that he thinks he hides so well and mostly (mostly!) only gives Bucky when he’s not looking — but everyone else is.

LORD give him strength.

And then there’s Bucky.

That man antagonizes the fuck out of Buck at any given chance and Benny doesn’t even think he realizes it. And the worst thing is they both seem to like it. It’s the strangest thing and Benny is sure that this is their way of flirting.

Which is entirely infuriating because it’s the most annoying thing in the universe to be around.

Bucky’s antics only increase once they start sharing a bunk, and Benny’s not sure if it has more to do with his close proximity to Buck or his general cabin fever due to the German winter at the Stalag. Whatever the cause, Bucky is incorrigible, and his behavior at times is nigh impossible to deal with. Though, Benny has to admit, the moments of levity do bring several of the other men out of their low moments more often than not, himself included, so he can’t fault Bucky too much for his attitude. Even when he pisses Benny off, he is a light in the dark camp.

Still makes Benny want to punch him in the face half the time, but in a brotherly way.

And if the two of them are bad during the daytime, that’s nothing compared to how transparent they are when they’re actually snuggled together at night.

Now, Benny’s not an idiot. It’s winter. Even he is sharing a bunk. It’s cold as fuck outside and even he understands the necessity to shove aside pride and get in close quarters with a buddy for the foreseeable future. But, the Bucks have taken this situation and turned it into a nightly slumber party.

After the lights turn out they stay up whispering and giggling with each other like a couple of school girls. He’s convinced if their hair grew out long enough while they were here in the camp, the two of them would spend the nights braiding each other’s.

It’s not like Benny is especially complaining that they’re talking. They’re not that loud; he can’t even tell what they’re saying and he’s not sure anyone could even those in the bunks closest to them (though, the men in the bunks above and below them soon found themselves migrating away due to the way the Bucks consistently stayed up talking at night— nobody wanted to be in their bubble. They were a whole world unto themselves. Again— not subtle). So, it’s not the volume that bothers Benny about their conversations at night. It’s not even really that he’s bothered. It’s just that, really? It’s every night. And maybe Benny can admit to being just a little jealous because it’s not like he has a best friend here. Or anyone to talk to. Not that he would really want someone so important to him to be experiencing the Stalag alongside him, but it’s significant that in a place like this, the Bucks have each other. They seem to be holding together better individually because they have one another.

It pisses Benny off as much as anything else does. It’s not rational, but it makes their voices carrying across the room at night irritate him. He tries not to let it get to him because it’s not fair that them having a sliver of happiness should make him feel that way, but he’s just a man.

He starts to get over it when he starts gossiping with John Brady who is in another barrack, but also from the 100th and knows as well as he does what it is to know the Bucks.

“Brady, you have no idea— Bucky has it so bad. Yesterday we were all sitting around shootin’ the shit after lunch and— I swear to god— Buck gave him this look like he was being an idiot — because he was — and Bucky just leaned in real close to him like none of the rest of us were even there, face almost touching, no sense of personal space whatsoever—“

“Well, hey, it’s not like Bucky’s ever been good at personal space with his buddies much anyway—"

“Yeah, but usually he’s drunk. But listen to this next bit. Bucky leans in real close to Buck, fully sober, grinning like an idiot, and says ‘I could show you a thing or two.’” Benny lets it hang in the air, waiting for Brady’s response. He has his hands splayed in a well? gesture. Brady’s eyebrows fly up and he leans toward Benny in interest.

“You were all talking about baseball, right? But still, that is… very not subtle. A blatant flirtation.”

“I know.”

“Buck must know that too, right?”

“Please, Buck is always flirting with Bucky. He just does it differently. That man is not subtle either.” Brady seems confused by that, not convinced.

“Wait, what do you mean, I’ve never seen him flirt with anyone. Doesn’t he have a girl back home he’s writing to? I thought they were pretty serious!”

Benny makes a placating gesture and leans back in his chair. “I’m not saying he’s not serious with his girl back home or anything, but the way he makes eyes at Bucky is not a made-up thing. And anyone who’s ever read the Bible knows a man can have more than one lover.”

“Benny!”

“I’m just saying…”

But the thing is, the Bucks really aren’t subtle. Like, at all.

And if Bucky thinks he’s quiet in any sense of the word then he’s a damn fool.

Buck may be able to keep quiet most of the time in the daylight, being that he keeps mostly to himself and is pretty private, not saying too much, and isn’t overtly given to random outbursts of sound. But Bucky? Bucky is the pure opposite of Buck. In the daytime, he’s impulsive and will make stray comments on any conversation whether he’s a part of it or not, whether it’s appropriate or not. The only time Benny has ever seen Bucky hold his tongue is when it’s in a professional capacity in front of a superior officer, and even then half the time Bucky is mouthing back and risking his career.

To say this translates to the situation with the Bucks is to say that the sky is blue.

Meaning in December everyone in the Barrack with the Bucks is aware there is a change in the nature of the relationship between the two of them.

They are not subtle. Heavy breathing and the occasional low moan from their bunk is not an unusual occurrence starting sometime in December with increasing frequency.

Nobody says anything about it.

The Bucks are both happier for the shift in their dynamic and anytime somebody goes to complain about it, all of the men from the 100th noticeably stiffen and glare. They’re protective of their Majors to the end. All of them would likely die for either of the Bucks, let alone sucker punch anyone who criticized the men for finding happiness in wartime.

It’s not really a conscious decision on Benny’s part, to defend the Bucks and their relationship, it’s just that any time he hears anyone start to get a little tetchy about it, he gets defensive. So what if they’re keeping you up a bit? Shove off, put some wool in your ears, and deal with it, it’s the damn war. Stop being such a damn child about it.

They don’t complain anymore after that.

It’s just the way it is after that. Nobody says anything about it to anyone else. If the 100th is this protective of the Majors for mere comments, imagine how they would be with an actual threat? DeMarco’s not sure the 100th would be able to leave a man alive. Or at least unscarred— probably scare a man into secrecy if they even thought about saying anything about their Majors.

The days surrounding Christmas are perhaps some of the most awkward days of DeMarco’s life. Not only because it’s Christmas and he’s trying to ignore the holiday, not get caught up in his complicated feelings about the Holy Day that he wished he was spending with family back home, or even on base in more favorable circumstances with more friends, but also because the Bucks are acting weird. There’s a definite tension between them like they’re fighting. It carries into the next day too and the itchy feeling permeates into the air like a bad smell and affects everyone. It’s frankly awful.

Even Brady, who’s not in the same Barracks takes note of it at meal time.

“Benny, why does it feel like Mom and Dad are fighting and it’s my fault?”

“Thank GOD I’m not the only one who noticed!”

“I mean, look at them! They’re sitting right across from each other, and they keep glancing at each other when the other isn’t looking and they’re all moping sad eyes! What is going on?”

“Fuck if I know, Brady.”

“How long until they make up?”

“God, I hope it’s soon.”

Brady has a wild smirk on his face. “My bets are on tomorrow night. By the next morning, they’ll be acting back to normal— just you see.” His eyes are like a madman and Benny can’t see any logical conclusion to what he’s saying.

“No way in hell, kid. I’ll take you on that.”

But when he wakes up the next morning to Bucky’s horrible renditions of the birthday song, Benny knows he’s beat. That little shit knew too much. If Benny had known today was Gale Cleven’s birthday he never would have doubted that the Bucks would reconcile today.

And reconcile they do.

By the end of the night, Benny is convinced anyone in the Barrack who didn’t already know about the Bucks surely does by now because—

They. Are. Not. Subtle.

Or QUIET.

GOD.

Sometimes Benny wishes he could bleach his brain.

He loves his friend, but really, the two of them are colossal idiots.

There was more moaning tonight than usual and the culprit was none other than Buck, which is honestly surprising too since he’s the quiet one between the two of them for most of his life. But it is his birthday.

And— goddamn it— Benny does not need to think about what kind of present Bucky must be giving Buck tonight. Because that is just way too much.

But really? REALLY? In front of all of them?

Benny DeMarco is not getting paid enough to deal with the Bucks.

Benny shuffles into the mess in the morning and sits at his usual table waiting for Brady with his head in his hands. When he sees the Bucks walk in shoulder to shoulder, practically glued to the hip once again, talking quietly about the fuck knows what Buck smiling with his eyes and Bucky practically vibrating out of his skin with wild energy—

Well, Benny knows he’s lost the bet.

Damn, Brady.

Speak of the devil. The younger man takes a seat at the table across from him with a smirk, inclining his head toward the smitten couple a ways down the mess, but doesn’t say anything.

“Oh, shut up, Brady, I got enough of an earful last night.”

Brady’s eyebrows go up comically high at that. “Wait, no! Now you have to dish!”

Benny glares. “As if you didn’t know already that it was Cleven’s birthday yesterday.”

Brady has the decency to look sheepish at that. “I’ll admit, I may have had some insider knowledge there— but how was I supposed to know you didn’t also know? All’s fair, and that.”

“Whatever. You really sure you want to hear this one, Brady?”

“Since when have you been shy about the exploits and drama of the Bucks, Benny?” He’s sure his face must be red. Benny glances over his shoulder where the men are sitting across from each other, chatting like the tension of the last few days never happened.

“Okay, fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. They— well, obviously I don’t know anything for certain, but…”

“But what? Spit it out, Benny!”

Benny covers his eyes with his hand. Why is this so hard to say? Is it because it’s his friends? Is it because they’re men? He doesn’t know, but it feels so secretive like he can’t say it in the daylight. He takes the hand away and leans in a little closer. “Well, I’m pretty sure that Bucky got Buck off last night. There was so much moaning and most all of it was Buck. Some sort of birthday surprise. It’s never been like that before, ya know?”

Brady’s eyes go comically wide, his jaw falling slack just so. His eyes dart over Benny’s shoulder to where the Majors are. Benny wonders if he’s broken the poor kid. After a moment, the biggest grin Benny has ever seen splits Brady’s face.

“OH MY GOD! FINALLY!”

What.

Benny is so confused.

Several people around them look over at Brady’s outburst.

“Brady, shut up!” Benny hisses between clenched teeth.

“Sorry! Sorry, it’s just. I mean, it’s kinda romantic, innit? I mean, you know they met at bootcamp, right? They always tell stories about falling in love during hopeless circumstances and how love overcomes everything— to actually see it happen? I mean, c’mon! Look at them! They’re beating the odds! They keep surviving everything and even though they both got downed in Germany, they both made it here to the same place? Beating the odds again? How can I not be excited that their friendship destined for more is becoming that? And that they’re making it work despite that?” Brady’s staring off into the distance, a goofy-looking smile on his face, his eyes practically filled with hearts, and Benny—

Benny is just staring at him with a dumbfounded expression.

What the actual fuck is going on here.

Benny gets it on a superficial level. What the kid said makes sense in a girly romance-novel sort of way, but it doesn’t connect for him the same way. The Bucks are just his friends and they’re just two guys who like each other and maybe had sex last night way too close to him in the barracks.

Brady is something else.

“Right.”

After that, everything escalates. The Bucks are all over each other day and night it seems, and Brady is always either talking to Benny about them or hounding him for information. It’s like the Bucks bring Brady hope in the camp, but Benny is concerned that it’s bordering on obsessive. As for the Bucks themselves… well, they’re still flying under the radar during the day to anyone who doesn’t know them, but for the love of all that is holy Benny just must know them because it’s like all he can see are their little glances and nods. The way they leave things around for each other in hidden gestures that mean something to the other. How one of them will quirk an eyebrow or leave space for the other to fill.

He doesn’t mean to notice things. He’s trained his whole life to be an observant man! It’s in his nature to pick up on interpersonal dynamics. He could do this with his eyes closed. (At night he does this with his eyes closed and he wishes he could just knock himself unconscious but he swears those men are making out in the bunk across the way. He just knows it).

So, when it’s Valentine’s Day and Buck gets a letter from his sweet, sweet Marge and Buck absolutely shuts down, Benny really should have seen that coming. It surprises him that he didn’t see it coming, actually.

“Brady they’re acting like idiots.”

“Why? It’s Valentine’s Day! They’ve been dating since at least Buck’s birthday— what could possibly have happened?”

“That’s the thing, Brady. I have a theory.”

“Uh-oh. What is it.”

“Listen here, kid, I dunno how well you’ll take this.”

Brady’s eyebrows draw together.

“You don’t think they broke up on Valentine’s, do you?” Brady sounds horrified even at the thought. Before Benny can get in a word edgewise to calm him down, Brady is talking again. “But even if they did have some big blowout fight— Benny! They would never stay apart for long! Look at those two through everything! I mean—“

“Brady! That’s not it at all!”

All the stress instantly drops from Brady’s frame and is replaced with confusion in a moment.

“It’s not? Then… what is it.”

Benny heaves a sigh and runs a weary hand through his hair. Not paid enough for this…

“Listen, Buck got another letter from Marge today, right, ‘cause it’s Valentine’s and all, and Bucky got all sad about it—“

“Right! That makes sense.”

“Stop interrupting me.”

“Sorry!”

Benny glares.

“Sorry,” Brady says again, hands up in a peace offering.

After another moment of staring Brady down, Benny continues. “As I was saying, Bucky got all hurt about the letter, so my theory is that these two idiots,” Benny leans in closer and drops his voice for security’s sake as he continues, “have been dicking around this whole time and never actually talked about the fact that they’re both in love with each other.”

Brady gasps— loudly. He looks even more horrified than when he thought the Bucks broke up.

“NO WAY!”

“SHUT UP!” Benny hisses, looking around to make sure nobody is watching them. “But think about it for a minute.

“There’s no way they haven’t talked about it, Benny! You said so yourself, they’re always up at night talking and whispering— for hours sometimes!”

Benny gives him a wary look. “Yeah, but you honestly think either Buck or Bucky is willingly talking about their feelings for hours and hours?”

Brady purses his lips. “You got me there.”

There’s a beat of silence between them as they both sit with the revelation of it all.

“What happens now, then?”

“Well, one thing is for sure, if Bucky mopes around the barracks for one more goddamn minute I’ll lose my fucking mind, so I’m going to go tell Buck that his boyfriend is being an idiot. And frankly? That he is too.”

“Well, you better let me know how it goes tomorrow! This is SERIOUS, Benny!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure whether I want to or not, you’ll find a way to get it out of me.”

Brady does, in fact, get the story out of Benny the next day.

“OH MY GOD HE WHAT????”

“Brady, would you calm down? And shut the hell up? I just told you what happened!”

“I know, I know! I just can’t believe it. You really mean to tell me that Bucky was moping in his own bunk after MONTHS of sleeping in Buck’s and when Buck confronted him about it he stood at the foot and talked and then suddenly aggressively climbed on top of Bucky for some sexually charged fight until they eventually just started making out?”

“That’s what I just said, Brady, yes.”

Brady starts laughing and doesn’t stop until there are tears in the corners of his eyes.

“I’m also pretty sure they said I love you, but I never can actually hear them. Just from the context.”

“OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOD THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE.”

“Brady SHUT UP!”

~Fin

[marigold-hills]

Dunes & Waters, part 34

PART 1 • PREVIOUS PART • NEXT PART

“You’re beautiful,” Remus says after, once they’re in his bed, Sirius sprawled out half on top of his chest, legs stretched out and taking way more bed space than his stature should allow for.

Sirius’ fingers stop in their tracks where they were tracing lines of scars on Remus’ torso. “Yeah?”

“Come on now, you know you are.”

“Hmm. What else?”

What else, he asks. Like Remus could put it into words.

“Too clever for your own good.”

Sirius makes pleased little noises, burrows his face into the space under Remus’ ribs. “More please.”

“Incorrigible.”

“That one isn’t nice.”

“It is. You don’t need to be reformed, the way you are now is perfect.”

“Oh,” Sirius bites the skin closest to his mouth like it’d hide the blush. Remus turns them around, hovers over Sirius’ lovely, lovely body, traces the reddened cheekbone with careful touch.

“Don’t hide from me.”

There’s something defiant in how Sirius tilts his chin up, into the touch and into the space near Remus’ face. “Wasn’t,” he sounds petulant, and Remus is in too good a mood to tease him about it. He kisses the whine off his lips instead, can almost taste the shape of it. Turns downward, to the neck, licks at the mole. “This here - you have no idea. Been driving me crazy since I saw you.”

“That fast?”

“Well. After you had a wash,” he says, ignoring the part of him that knows he’s lying and that knows he was already gone at the shape of Sirius’ hands when he was still in prison.

“That’s fair. I was faster then.”

“Yeah?”

“Elbow patches.”

Remus laughs into his neck.

They nap through the rest of the day. Sirius brings them tea and more pain potions for Remus, ignores when he says he can get them himself. This is what he wanted, when he got back to the apartment, and fuck Peter for all that he said but also it pushed them here - pushed Remus here - so maybe there are golden threads in everything.

There are golden threads in Sirius’ eyes he never would have seen if they didn’t get this close.

“I found the rites,” Sirius says into the evening, once they’re both fed and watered, once Remus has made him cum with nothing but his tongue.

“For ur.idim?”

“Yeah. I think so, anyway. It might be a bit of a long shot, but I think it’ll work. It’s from Book of the Dead.”

“I don’t remember anything about a wolf in there.”

“Well… there isn’t. It’s about a sycamore, and a viper.”

Remus takes a second, then understands. “Really. Too clever,” he tells him again. “How did I get so lucky to get you to work with, I’ll never know. You were meant to be a Curse Breaker and here you are.”

Not many people, not even one’s working within their field, would know Lycopolis was called Upper Sycamore and Viper. 

“Do you think it’ll work?”

“We’ll have to see. It’s a good try - like you said. Everything else has been a riddle. And I feel this is more about getting the spirit of the incantation rather than a precise one,” Remus is tired, but this is… well, this is a breakthrough. “Shall we try it tonight?”

He thinks if it’s to work, it will work then, while he still feels the wolf and the moon like a part of himself. 

NEXT PART

@tealeavesandtrash

@moon-girl88

@hoje--aqui

@cocoabutterandbooks

@onion-sliced-apples

@prancingpony42

@digital-kam

@remoonysiriusly

@sweetstarryskies

@a-sunset-outside-my-window

@procrastinatingstuff

@annaliza999

@arasael

(let me know if you do/don’t want to be tagged!)

[heroes-among-us-all]

Good to have u back!

Can i have a scenario with aizawa vs a villain that is always flirty with him, untill him decides its enough for him and they end up in a steamy situation and she gives up to him cause she reeeeeally likes him😳

If enough people like this scenario, I'll probably write a part 2

NSFW BELOW!

Aizawa narrowed his eyes. God, this was such a pain. It was always the same game of cat and mouse, and to make matters even worse, you insisted on being an insufferable tease every time.

"What's the matter, Eraserhead?" you giggled, deftly evading his cloths. "You look like you're having a hard time catching me. By the way, you're as hot as ever. What would it take to let me ride you?"

Precocious little brat.

You were absolutely incorrigible. Ever since you'd first crossed paths, he'd been victim to countless of your shameless attempts to flirt with him. He'd never expected that he would have to deal with a villain that seemed interested in getting into his pants at any given opportunity. He knew he had to take his job seriously, and you were actively breaking the law, but it was difficult to stay focused — not only because you kept goading him on, but also because you were far more attractive than he could stand.

Aizawa was ashamed to admit that he'd masturbated to the thought of you more times than he could count. It was a mixture of frustration at always failing to apprehend you, but most of it was just lust, plain and simple. It also didn't help that your villain costume was so goddamn revealing.

"This is the last time I let you get off easy," Aizawa muttered.

That was what he said, but the truth of the matter was that you were remarkably difficult to catch. Even when he canceled your Quirk, it didn't make a difference. You were naturally agile and skilled at hand-to-hand combat, as well as a master of weaponry. Aizawa wondered if he would ever be able to arrest you.

As far as villains went, you hadn't committed any particularly heinous crimes, but the law was still the law. You also had a habit of almost only appearing in front of him. Aizawa was a grown man, so it was obvious to see that you were attracted to him — either romantically or purely sexually. Plus, the comments you made were already a dead giveaway.

You evaded his attacks once more, then hoisted yourself up on a nearby rooftop and grinned down at him from above.

"I have a proposition for you," you grinned. "Fuck me just this once, and I'll let you arrest me. I'm pretty confident I'll be able to break out of prison anyways, but this way you get to take credit for a job well done, right?"

Aizawa's brow twitched. "Don't patronize me. I don't need any freebies, and I'm not stupid enough to believe that a villain would hold up their end up the bargain."

"I can prove it," you insisted, and to Aizawa's immense surprise, you jumped down from the roof and landed mere inches in front of him. His hero instincts took over, and he bound you in his cloths without so much as blinking. You didn't bother to struggle, though. In fact, if the flush on your cheeks was anything to go off, he might've thought you actually enjoyed being tied up. "Oh no," you mused. "I've been caught. Are you going to punish me now?"

You really were a piece of work, and as much as Aizawa wanted to pretend like he was above all this, he could already feel his cock throbbing.

He decided to give in to your provocations, just this once.

"Maybe I am," he gritted out, then shoved you against the nearest wall, while your limbs were still bound. He pushed down you down by shoulders until you collapsed onto your knees in front of him. He could see your grin getting wide with excitement as he used his free hand to pull down his pants and reveal his boner.

"Oh my god," you moaned, pressing your thighs together in anticipation. "Your dick looks amazing. I've been wanting to see it for so long."

Aizawa had to admit that the prospect of doing something so taboo — a hero fucking a villain — was really, really turning him on.

"Since you're such a needy little slut, I'll be nice this time and give you what you want." He grabbed fistfuls of your hair and pulled you in until the tip of his cock was pressed against your cheek. "Now, suck it."

Despite being a villain, you were awfully obedient when it came to such matters. You didn't need to be told twice before you were dragging your tongue all the way up the length of his shaft.

Aizawa let out a quiet hiss. Fuck. Even just your tongue already felt incredible. As much as he wanted to maintain the illusion that he was completely composed right now, his heart was beating ridiculously fast.

"So good," you breathed, licking and sucking with an enthusiasm he hadn't known was possible. You swirled your tongue around the head of his cock, then puckered your lips, sucking in awfully hard.

Aizawa could feel his self-control dissolving the longer he stared at your sinful expression. He just couldn't get enough of how you looked to be completely transfixed on his cock, strings of saliva spilling out over your lips.

He inhaled, then gripped your head tighter.

"I believe I told you to suck. What are you taking your time and messing around for? Do it properly."

He shoved his entire cock into your mouth, making sure that it bottomed out against the back of your throat. You gagged from the sudden intrusion, a few tears reflexively prickling at your eyes, but your arms were tied up, so you couldn't push him away.

He doubted you would've actually wanted to, though.

Aizawa barely even bothered to stifle his groans as he fucked your face relentlessly. The sound of you choking and struggling to breathe while you were forced to deepthroat him was honestly like music to his ears. He wanted to burn this image into his mind; remember every little detail so that he could jerk off to it later on.

"Fuck," he growled, thrusting sloppily, "your mouth feels so good. I guess a slutty villain like you has probably been around quite a bit. Well, how is it? How does it feel to have a hero violate you?"

Tears were streaming down your face, and your cheeks were a flushed mess of crimson hues. You gagged in between your moans, but didn't make the slightest attempt to fight back. Aizawa loved seeing you like this. After being unable to apprehend you more times than he could even count, the sight of you being completely at his mercy was almost too good to be true.

Aizawa bit back a gasp. "Shit... I'm already about to cum. Drink it all up. If you waste even a single drop, I'm not going to forgive you."

Between how roughly he was thrusting into your mouth, it was incredible that you managed to nod hazily. Aizawa couldn't help but crack a crooked grin at your fucked-out and nearly delirious expression. This was easily the most turned on he'd ever been.

He came a few moments later, busting his entire load into your mouth. Ever the obedient girl, you swallowed every last spurt of his thick cum. Even though you were probably desperate for air by now, you stayed perfectly still and let it all slide down the back of your throat.

Aizawa eventually pulled back, delighted to see you smiling through your tears, chest heaving under the heavy weight of your arousal.

"You taste so good," you panted, strings of cum glued to your lips and chin. "That was amazing. I can't believe I just sucked your cock. I love you so much..."

Aizawa felt himself blush ten times more fiercely than before. Fooling around was one thing, but to hear you say that loved him was a different thing entirely. It seemed like your feelings for him were a lot more serious than he'd first though.

After a brief pause, Aizawa eventually released you from his cloths, and just as promised, you made no attempt to run away.

"I guess I'll go to jail now," you sighed. "Oh, well. It was worth it. I wonder how long it'll take me to get back out."

I should turn her into the police. She's still a villain.

Aizawa was a hero, and he had a duty towards the public. But at the same time... you weren't really hurting anyone. You'd pulled off a few robberies to make your name known, and shortly after, you'd started appearing around him, but not much else.

He couldn't believe he was having such conflicting thoughts. There was only one right call, and he was struggling to make it.

Aizawa adjusted his pants in place and turned away from you. "Leave," he grimaced. "Before I change my mind. Like I said before, I don't want any freebies. I can apprehend you on my own terms, without needing to be given a handicap."

You stood up with a gasp. "Y-You're letting me go? So, then... will we get to do this again?"

Aizawa was unwilling to show you his expression, so he kept on facing away from you. It was better this way, otherwise you would've been able to see the grin creeping onto his lips.

The next time you ended up meeting, Aizawa was going to give you the pounding of your life.

[amelia-queen-black]

Night Visit

An unusual noise disrupted the calm of the night. Oliver sat up carefully, his eyes wide open in the semi-darkness of his cell. Muffled voices. People walking down the corridors. This was strange, the guards patrolled alone at night, and if prisoners had somehow escaped their cells, they wouldn’t be chatting away but would try to be discrete. Intrigued and on guard, he sat on the edge of his bed, the cold concrete under his naked feet chasing away the last remnants of sleep.

Two figures recognizable at a glance appeared in his field of view through the bars and his jaw almost dropped in surprise. He had to resist the urge to pinch his arm in order to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. No way. These two idiots didn’t just break into the most secure jail of the country to help him escape.

“We should have gone by the control room to find out which cell he’s in.”

“No need, we’ll find him easily, super vision, remember?”

“If I used my speed, we would find him even faster.”

Oliver rolled his eyes and moved to the bars with muffled steps. They didn’t even have a well-established plan for their attempt to free him. These two were incorrigible.

“We’ve talked about it, you’re likely to wake everybody up by entering their cells and raising their sheets to see their faces.”

“Not to mention that some sights might scar you for life,” Oliver said.

Barry pulled a face in disgust before reacting and running up to his cell while Kara smiled from ear to ear as she came up at normal speed, carrying two boxes in her arms. The two superheroes seemed out of place with their colourful suits in this grey setting. They shouldn’t be here.

“You should leave,” Oliver said. “I can’t escape and become a fugitive, my family…”

“Yeah, yeah, we know, Dig explained everything,” Barry interrupted. “Is that how you greet your friends? Also, can we talk about the beard?”

More on AO3: Night Visit

[audible-smiles]

I'd sort of...generally accepted that incarceration doesn't work to prevent crime, but I didn't viscerally understand prisons as trauma factories that actively make our society more dangerous until I listened to Unreformed. Because the victims of Mt. Meigs were all kids, primarily in for things that barely count as crimes (like "being incorrigible" or "truancy"), and because the podcast details the survivors' future involvement with the legal system, you can more clearly see the pattern of escalating violent behavior after they were subjected to a violent, dehumanizing environment. the survivors who managed not to end up back in prison found religion, or art, or social advocacy, and put themselves back together without any support from the state. despite the "reform school", not because of it.

[offender42085]

Post 1020

Willard Noble Chaiden Miller, Iowa inmate 6819559, born 2005, incarceration intake July 2023 at age 17, sentenced to life with parole consideration, parole eligible November 2056

Murder

Iowa law does not permit juveniles to be sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole. That's very fortunate for Willard Miller, who pleaded guilty to the murder of his Spanish teacher, the judge who sentenced him told him in July 2023.

Judge Shawn Showers ordered Miller, now 17, to serve life in prison with a minimum term before parole of 35 years for the 2021 death of Nohema Graber, 66. The Fairfield High School teacher was beaten to death, her body left hidden under a tarp and railroad tie in a city park.

The order came after a daylong hearing reviewing key evidence from the case, including playing for the first time in court video excerpts of interviews by state investigators of Miller and co-defendant Jeremy Goodale, who were both 16 at the time of the killing.

Prosecutors said Miller was upset about his grade in Graber's class and had been seen arguing with her about it. Goodale told them he met up with Miller at a park where Graber was known to walk, and that both struck her with a baseball bat before hiding her body. Miller maintained he acted as a lookout, and that it was Goodale who carried out the killing.

Showers in his sentencing order discussed the legal status of juveniles for sentencing. The Iowa Supreme Court has held teens cannot be sentenced to mandatory life sentences for crimes before the age of 18, while the U.S. Supreme Court has limited life without parole for juvenile offenders to the rare cases of those whose crimes reflect what it termed "permanent incorrigibility."

Showers made clear that, despite Miller's youth, the circumstances of Graber's killing and his conduct before and since did not warrant lenience.

In addition to his prison term, Miller under Iowa law will be on the hook with Goodale for $150,000 in restitution to Graber's family, and for other possible restitution as well.

3g

[just-here-with-my-thoughts]

"Hold Still" / "Yeah, kid, we're fine"

@summer-of-bad-batch prompts week 9 & week 11 Plus bonus prompt from the original voting form (mods have confirmed that this one sadly didn't make the cut but I loved it and have been desperate to use it anyway) "I'm drinking a smoothie on this pristine beach. Unless someone is dying, leave me alone."

Fandom: The Bad Batch Characters: Mayday, Hexx, Veetch, Echo, Mox, Stak, Deke, Jax, Eva, Sami Set after season 3 when everyone is living happily on Pabu and clearly the Outpost boys didn't die and were just held captive on Tantiss and rescued along with the rest of the clone prisoners there Word Count: ~2945 Read Here on AO3

Synopsis: Mayday is relaxing on a pristine beach with a smoothie, and doesn't want to be bothered. But the beach is never free of drama.

Content Warning: near-drowning, CPR, vomiting

Author's Note: Threw the rulebook out the window with this one. No main POV character, it keeps switching, just a sweet happy story of the Outpost boys relaxing on the beach because they deserve some fun after, y'know, what I put them through in Welcome to the Outpost. @royallykt Veetch playing in the waves as promised :) <3

Veetch stood at the edge of the surf, foaming ocean waves tickling between his toes as he sank marginally into the wet sand. He shielded his eyes against the glare of sunlight on water – so alike and so different from the glare of sun on snow – and watched the swell of an incoming wave build and rise as it approached.

“You ready?” he grinned, tilting his head casually to the younger clone cadet stood by his side.

“I was made ready,” was Mox’s reply, the playful scorn in his voice belied by his wide smile. His damp hair, growing shaggy with the long, easy days on Pabu, was held back by a bandana. Veetch’s own curls were close-cropped, and ran rivulets of water down his spine.

A silent signal passed between them and the two clones broke towards the swelling wave in a run, splashing ungainly through the shallows.

Veetch reached it first, throwing himself headlong into a somersault to dive over the breaking wave and into the deeper water beyond. Mox wasn’t far behind, his own flip sending up a plume of spray as he hit the surf.

They staggered back to the beach, laughing, Veetch with one hand on Mox’s shoulder whilst the younger clone dashed water from his eyes.

“No kriffing way you jumped higher than me, no way!” Veetch was howling, tears of laughter joining the saltwater glaze on his skin.

He yelped in dismay as a stinging missile of wet sand slapped him in the chest.

“Language,” Deke warned with a grin from where he crouched just beyond the reach of the waves, shaking clinging damp sand from his hand. “There’s children present.”

Veetch made a show of rolling his eyes, but glanced apologetically at the cluster of Pabu children who had been watching the clones compete at somersaulting into the water. His sheepish but exaggerated facial expressions drew a laugh from them, and Mox merely clapped him on the back and grinned, knowing it would make his rival even more incorrigible.

From his position reclining on a lounger higher up the beach, Hexx raised his sunglasses to peer at the commotion down at the water’s edge.

“Think you ought to go down there and remind him not to go too hard on those lads?” he asked casually, leaning across towards Mayday.

On the neighbouring sun-lounger, the Commander’s expression was unreadable behind oversized sun-shades, a large straw hat pulled down low over his brow whilst he basked in the sun. His left arm hung lazily over the edge of the bed, a large glass filled with tropical juice in hand, the brightly coloured umbrella in the drink gaily winking in the sun.

“I’m drinking a smoothie on this pristine beach,” he said slowly, enunciating each word clearly from beneath the shade of his hat. “Unless someone is dying, leave me alone.”

Hexx chuckled and levered himself up from the sun lounger, grimacing a little at the ache in his bones that no amount of rest seemed to dispel. He set his bare feet in the sand, wriggling his toes, then pushed up and sauntered down the beach towards where the young clones played in the waves.

“Veetch,” he called as the younger surfaced from the water again, shaking droplets from his skin as he tried to clear one ear of water. “Why not switch to a game they can all enjoy?”

He nodded clearly towards the smaller children, some of them forbidden by parents from charging into the waves with such abandon. The muscular clone teenagers and Veetch might have the strength to withstand the tides, but the smaller ones didn’t.

With an affable grin Veetch waded from the water, wringing out his shorts, and immediately moved to the cluster of small children. A couple of gasps of excitement met his approach – they were all used to seeing clones around the island by now, with so many recuperating there after being liberated from Tantiss, but few of them had much to say to the children and even fewer would consider playing with them.

“Alright!” he said, crouching down to bounce on his heels, spreading his arms wide in a gesture that encompassed the small crowd of waiting youngsters. “What are we playing then?”

Smiling as the clone cadets quickly joined Veetch with the smaller kids, Hexx made his way back up the beach to slump on his own lounger at Mayday’s side, poking his best friend in the ribs.

“You should watch this. Veetch is a natural leader. Look at him organising those kids for a game.”

Mayday swatted his hand away, then brought his drink up to his lips and sipped slowly.

Hexx continued with a wide grin. “Wonder where he learned that.”

Humming a non-committal noise, Mayday deigned to shuffle up the lounger and nudge the brim of his sunhat up, surveying the scene on the sand. “What’re they playing now?”

“Looks like Team Tag,” said Hexx approvingly. “Makes it fair, by tethering the older boys and Veetch to the little ones.”

Indeed, further along the beach, on the dry sand now, Veetch was holding hands ever so carefully with a youngster who barely stood as high as his hip. The other clone boys, Mox, Stak and Deke, had been living on Pabu for longer know, and knew all the children by name.

They seemed relaxed and at ease as the game started up, one pair nominated as ‘it’ and in charge of racing after and catching the others. When they were ‘tagged’ the new pair would tear after the others – although ‘tearing’ was subjective, speed limited by the leg length of the shorter.

When Veetch got tagged he simply swept his small team-mate up into his arms, charging along the beach at full tilt with the youngster laughing raucously in his grasp. Cries of delight and dismay echoed from the others, the clone boys complaining the loudest.

“That’s cheating!”

“No fair, Veetch!”

The game of tag quickly devolved into a brawl on the sand, the clones and the younger children dogpiling Veetch and pinning him down. The clone thrashed in the sand, every movement exaggerated, howling with laughter as the teenaged cadets held him in place whilst the Pabu kids began to bury his legs.

From his position watching from the sun lounger, Hexx snorted a laugh. “So much for that game.”

Mayday only smiled behind his beard, and took another sip of his smoothie.

A shadow fell over their encampment, and both clones looked up to see a pale-skinned clone with cybernetic enhancements opening a beach umbrella so that it shaded their position. He looked down with a smile, honey-gold eyes sparkling above prominent cheekbones.

“Commander… Sargeant. Hope you don’t mind me robbing you of a bit of your sun. All the lotion in the world doesn’t stop me burning in this heat.”

Both clones nodded their acquiescence, and Mayday added, “It’s just Mayday and Hexx, now.” He twisted in his seat, taking the sunglasses off and perching them on the brim of his hat. “You must be the ARC Trooper.”

Hexx rolled his eyes and punched him in the shoulder. “’The ARC Trooper’… That’s Echo, the Hero of Anaxes that you’re talking to!” He stood and offered a hand, which Echo clasped firmly. “I had batchmates who made it out of that conflict alive because of you. It’s an honour.”

Echo’s smile twisted with an ache of grief, but he gave Hexx’s hand a brief squeeze before releasing it. Hexx sat sideways, and Echo perched on the end of the sun lounger.

“About that. We’ve got many more brothers who we’re hoping to get alive out of the Empire’s testing facilities. I hear you might be up for the fight?”

Mayday nodded slowly, rubbing one hand through his beard. “Crosshair talked to you?”

“Yeah. Said you’d be a great asset.”

Flicking his gaze to Hexx, Mayday grunted a laugh. “Didn’t realise we’d made such an impression on the lad.”

“Well, you did,” said Echo matter of factly, then added, “and it takes a lot to impress Crosshair. Especially as a reg.” He chuckled at some private thought, and gestured with his scomp. “I’m not asking you to come with me right this minute. Was just going to give you my com code, so when you’re recovered enough, you can get in touch.”

Hexx pulled out his com, handing it to Echo, who programmed in the details.

“Crosshair said there were three of you?” the cyborg clone asked, glancing up to seek the third.

With a snort of laughter, Hexx gestured along the beach. “You can take Veetch now. Might burn off some of his energy.” He gave an exaggerated, wistful sigh. “Oh, to be that young again.”

Veetch had freed himself from his sandy entombment and was back at the water’s edge, washing the prickly stuff off his skin.

All of a sudden a cry of alarm went up from further along the beach – a child’s voice, high and panicked. Immediately all three clones were on alert, Mayday almost dropping his smoothie in his haste to stand.

“Jax! Jax fell in the water!”

Mayday squinted to see where a pair of small children were climbing on the rocks. It seemed to be two girls, one rosy-skinned, one blue. They were gazing at the water, urgently clinging to each other.

Without needing to speak, the clones burst into action, sunbeds and parasols forgotten as they raced towards the rocks.

Veetch was closer, and had heard the same cry, responding in the same way. He reached them first, immediately splashing into the water and beginning to swim out with strong, sure strokes.

When they reached the two girls Echo reached out to them, carefully helping them down from the slippery rocks. “What happened?” he asked, crouching down to their height. He seemed familiar with them, and Mayday and Hexx hung back a little to watch. “Eva? Sami? Can you tell me?”

“A big wave came,” said the blue-skinned Pantoran girl, her voice small and frightened. “It pulled Jax off the rocks.”

By now the clone cadets had caught up, along with the other Pabu children, and both girls shrank back, clinging to each other. Echo glanced at Mayday and gestured for them to give them some space, so he turned with his arms spread and waved the others back.

“Okay, back up a bit,” Mayday said, glancing around the Pabu kids. “Who knows where these kids’ parents are?”

“They don’t have any,” said a boy in a small voice. “They came from Tantiss, like you.”

Mayday paused, startled. He glanced back at Echo with the girls, then out to sea just in time to see Veetch take a deep breath and dive under the water.

Kicking down beneath the waves, feeling the strong current snatch at him this far out, Veetch just barely spotted the green-skinned boy as he sank, dragged down by the weight of waterlogged clothes. He surfaced, took another breath, then dived again strongly, kicking hard to reach the boy. Locking his arms tightly round his waist, he reversed his kicks and fought to bring them back to the surface.

Breaching the surface of the waves, clone trooper and Mirialan boy both gasped in a lungful of air. The boy was coughing and spluttering, but still found the energy to fight his rescuer, flailing wildly against Veetch’s grasp.

“Hey, kid! Hold still!” warned Veetch, then yelped as a bony elbow cracked against his face. Pain lanced through his senses as his nose gushed blood, and for a moment his grip slackened in shock and the boy slid under the water again.

Mox had reached him now, treading water as he helped Veetch pull the youngster up again. Another submersion, and another lungful of swallowed water, had sent the fight out of the boy and now he lolled listlessly in Veetch’s grasp.

Veetch gestured that he was fine, even as blood streamed down his chin and neck, and rolled onto to his back to fight against the current and haul the boy back to shore.

As soon as they reached the shallows and Mox’s feet touched the sandy floor, he grabbed Jax from the older clone and ran up the sand, clear of the waves. Mayday met him and helped guide the unconscious Mirialan down to the sand, assessing the situation in a moment before dropping to his knees and tilting the boy’s head back, breathing life into his water-filled lungs.

“C’mon, lad, wake up for me,” he murmured as his hands pressed on the small chest, pumping a regular rhythm. Hexx was knelt on the other side, ready to take over.

With a start the boy convulsed and choked up a gout of water, gasping against his suddenly clear airway. With a hand on his shoulder Mayday helped him roll to his side, letting him vomit up the swallowed seawater onto the sand.

A sigh of relief and a ragged cheer rippled through the anxiously watching crowd. Veetch was out of the water now, coming up to join his squad-mates with fingers pinched to the bridge of his broken nose.

Rolling to his hands and knees, Jax shakily staggered to his feet. When Mayday held out a hand to steady him, he dashed it away.

“Stay away from me, clone!”

The former commander recoiled in surprise, glancing at the others. Jax stumbled back from him nervously, into the waiting arms of the girls he had been with on the rocks.

He didn’t seem to mind Echo’s presence.

“Woah, you’re okay,” soothed Echo, catching hold of the boy’s shoulder and kneeling at his level. “Eva, Sami, do you know where Emerie is?”

“She took Baryn for a nap,” said Eva, the Iktotchi girl, pointing back up towards the houses of Lower Pabu.

Echo looked at Stak and Deke. “Can you find her for me?”

With a nod, both cadets took off running.

Leaving Echo to wait with the green-skinned boy, Mayday turned uneasily towards Veetch and guided him back along the beach to check over his broken nose.

“Quick reactions, lad,” he praised as he examined him, nodding when he was satisfied. “You too,” he added, giving Mox an approving nod.

“Trust you to pick up an injury when you’re not even on active duty,” teased Hexx affectionately, clapping Veetch on the shoulder. Then, in a lower voice, “Well done. You did good.”

Veetch merely nodded, still catching his breath from the water and the shock of the elbow to the face.

“Um… sir?”

Mayday turned and glanced down in surprise, finding the pink-skinned Iktotchi girl standing there cringing up at them.

“Yes?” he asked, slightly bemused. Nat-borns were one thing, but nat-born children were a whole other confusion.

“Are you okay?”

At her meek but concerned question, Mayday broke out in a grin, crouching down to her level as he had seen Echo do.

“Yeah, kid. We’re fine.” He gestured up the beach. “Your friend okay?”

She nodded. “Jax won’t say thank you. He’s scared of clone troopers. But… you’re good ones. I can tell.” A shy smile spread on her face as she glanced at Veetch, and her hand curled in a tiny wave.

Veetch waved back, smiling behind his bloodied nose, and Mox crouched next to Mayday, extending a hand to Eva.

“You were very brave,” he told her, giving her a reassuring smile as she took his hand. He stood, glancing at Mayday with a nod that told him ‘I’ve got this’, before starting to lead Eva back to her friends. “Well done for raising the alarm.”

“Your brother is really good at swimming.” She hesitated on the word brother, like she was still learning to understand what linked all the clones.

“We have to be,” Mox told her with a smile. “Kamino, where we grew up, is all ocean. We had to know what do to if someone fell in.”

“Think you’ve got a new fan,” Hexx joked gently, giving Veetch’s wet hair a fond ruffle. “Alright, hero of the hour, let’s get you off the beach and mopped up.”

“I didn’t mean for him to be frightened of me,” said Veetch, a little subdued, but Mayday clasped a reassuring hand to his shoulder.

“It sounds like those kids have been through a lot. As much as we have, most likely. Don’t take it personally.” Pausing to retrieve his smoothie, they turned to start heading back towards the docks buildings which had been converted into refugee housing for the clones. “Anyway, after that display of heroics, I’m sure Echo will be even keener for you to join their Resistance.”

Veetch’s eyes lit up. “We’re going?” he said hopefully, immediately brighter.

Mayday gave a grim smile and nodded.

“Haven’t got it in me to turn my back on a brother in need,” he said, glancing at Hexx who nodded his support. “And we can’t let you go without us.”

Veetch grinned, throwing one arm round each of their shoulders. The three of them walked together, the younger clone supported by his two older brothers, heading slowly back along the sand.

“It’s like I said,” murmured Mayday softly, tilting his face up to the sky. “Brothers stick together. I told you I was requesting you for my squad, wherever we end up.” Something wistful crossed his face, before he squeezed Veetch’s shoulders hard. “Can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be, than with you boys.”

Hexx grinned. “Sun’s gone to your head. You’re getting soppy.”

Veetch laughed at their banter, pulling them both close.

“It’s us three. Forever.” “Forever,” echoed Hexx and Mayday, as the three of them walked into their future.

[chaili-1512]

" Poisonous flower "

CW:Touching, kissing, y\n, The main character is a Na'vi, na’vi quaritch x na’vi reader

TW: some smut

You work as an interpreter in the guard of the Celestial Nation, as well as a guide in the realm of Pandora and the life of Na'vi, you are loyal to your service, but you are still a sane Avatar who is extremely negative about violence. With only the memories of your past life with you, you continued to work for the side you thought was right, but of course it wasn't, subconsciously you knew that killing was not the answer, but who would listen to someone like you. You were lucky to have a great team, and although you didn't fit in right away, you were able to find common ground with some of them, including the incorrigible Miles Quaritch himself, of all those present you had an extremely strained relationship which allowed you to constantly turn the conversation into an argument, luckily the guys were able to unblock you every time and keep you from killing each other. One day your group was sent out to scout the northern part of the forest to make sure there were no extra savages there, and if they were found, to take prisoners or kill them, which you didn't let the group do every time. To your surprise, the colonel obediently obeyed this order, only silently putting away his weapon and subduing the savage. Your job, as commander, was to keep everything under control and, if necessary, to make reasonable decisions, without violence, by negotiation, being a guide and mentor in the realm of this violent nature. The landing went quickly, and, as always, you guided the action with a taskbar that gave you a map and a place to head to with one swipe of your hand. The goal was to find more Na'vi and get them out of the way for the RDA's personal purposes.

-Look, Y\n, what if they're not here, - Lyle replied tiredly, waving off the nasty insects. This part of the forest was best known for its carnivorous plants and wildlife.

-Then we'll have less work to do, won't we, Lyle. Or are you tired already? - You turned to him with a chuckle, and your joke was shared by all but the Colonel, who, as usual, only rolled his eyes.

When you finally reached your destination, you found abandoned dwelling huts built from trees and other improvised materials, and then Quaritch went first, gesturing for you to clear the area. You, in turn, stood behind him and watched simply, you were clumsy at shooting, but if it came to hand-to-hand combat, your fists were ready to stand up for yourselves.

-Corporal, as you can hear, reception - Miles' job was to protect you, which angered him, because every time he had to risk his ass for you.

-All clear, sir, only traps found that didn't work, - the man looked carefully around one of the huts, checking every corner, as did the rest of the boys.

-Don't you find that suspicious? - said warily, and then Miles' eyes widened just as he was about to turn to one of the boys, something grabbed him by the leg and dragged him into the bushes.

-Ambush, get back! - The boys immediately ran in your direction, but everyone was already trapped, and the strung rope dragged them into the woods. Miles covered you in every way he could, looking around, his ears drooping and a smirk appearing, he froze for a second, then abruptly grabbed your hand and you ran off in an unknown direction.

-What the hell, where are we running to?! - you tried to keep up with the rapid pace of his run, picking your way through the bushes and roots.

-Fewer words, soldier, I'm trying to save us! - he shouted as he continued to run, finally you managed to escape the unknown, on the way you managed to send a message to the base with a signal for help so they could call for reinforcements. Your lungs were about to burst out, and you huddled against a nearby tree to regain your breath. Quaritch listened to his surroundings and only then was he able to exhale and come to his senses when the danger was over.

-Are you okay? Are you hurt? - The man gave you a concerned look that made you feel uncomfortable for a second.

-I'm fine, I'm glad you're wondering how I am, - you smiled sarcastically, but all you got in return was that familiar fierce look.

-Unfortunately for me, I have to ask for it every time I risk my ass for a scumbag like you, - he crossed his arms over his chest and looked at you seriously, you just wanted to say something as your gaze fell on what was behind him.

-Let's not make any unnecessary moves, - you carefully began to step back, Miles only tensed, taking his weapon and quickly turning around to see the bushes and the usual kinds of trees.

-Look, we're not in a position to make jokes right now, come on, - the colonel only pushed back the thicket, causing his tail to flutter and rise like a trumpet, along with his ears. - What the… - he only looked around after those words, then collapsed to the ground.

-Damn it, Miles! This is a dangerous bush, their poison causes intoxication and hallucinations!? - You cautiously began pulling your partner's legs, though he was losing strength, you still managed to pull him out. After laying him down as comfortably as possible with his back to the tree, you began rummaging through your bag, laying everything out on the surface of the bark in search of the right medicine. While you were looking for everything you needed, the colonel managed to wake up on his own, but his tongue was mumbling something unintelligible.

-Oh, you were able to wake up on your own, that's great, then I can give you a smaller dose and… - Before you could finish and pass the syringe, your wrist was intercepted, the expression on his face was speechless, and it was very difficult to assess the situation.

-What are you going to do to me? And without my consent… - Quaritch tried to formulate his speech, which was difficult, but he managed something.

-Hey, listen, I want to help you, so please let go of my hand, - you wanted to break out of his grasp, but the man's face played only a smile, this you clearly did not expect from such a rude man.

-Why should I let such a beautiful girl like you go? - His eyes went wild, like those of a hungry predator playing with its prey.

-Look, I think this poison has given you a strong side effect… - You looked again at the plants, which were already far enough away that you couldn't hit them again. Finally your wrist was free, and all that remained on Quaritch's face was bewilderment and incomprehension.

-Do you mean to tell me that this weed makes me do stupid things? - The colonel rose slightly, leaning against a tree, and you, in turn, stood up and pointed exactly the same way to a grove of these plants. - Exactly, and now I'm going to inject you with a drug that will lessen the effects, - the man threw another fierce look at you after your words.

-Have I ever told you that I've been attracted to your looks since the first time we met? - This statement made you look at him confused for a split second, and all that comforted you was the phrase, "-It's just the effect of that plant, he's gone mad, nothing more." Everything would have been fine, but his crooked gait headed in your direction, forcing you to move a few meters away from him, - Miles Quaritch, you need a shot, or it will get worse… - your voice no longer seemed as confident as before, for now you were pinned against a large wooden pole, and in front of you stood the colonel's rather rough and pumped body, whose gaze made your tail move like a propeller.

-I feel good now, Y\n especially with you by my side, - he whispered it so softly that your ears flinched and an electric shock ran through your body like you had never experienced before. While your thoughts were clouded with worry, his fingertips ran gently over your arms, making your body throb even harder. Quaritch was so close that his heavy breath burned your innocent face, which was already covered in embarrassment.

-Miles, what are you doing? - the question came softly enough and in one exhale, when his hands were already on your thighs, squeezing them tightly.

-What you have long wanted, but could not afford - the colonel's gaze was fixed on your lips, everything inside him was burning, only you could cause him such strong and ridiculous feelings. As much as you wanted it to stop, your body seemed to defy common sense, and you could only watch as his strong arms pressed you closer and his warm lips showered you with light kisses. Your body burned frantically with every touch on your neck, lightly biting it with his fangs, Quaritch teasing you, making you feel intense embarrassment, his mind still stupefied, and such an effect without the necessary aids could have lasted 48 hours.

-Miles… Stop it, you're not yourself, - your cotton palms tried to push away from the man's chest, but he in turn only intercepted them and raised them above your head, holding you in a kind of trap from which it was difficult to escape.

-Out of yourself I can only be from you - you were naturally enjoying everything that was happening, but common sense still managed to master your brain, the colonel was stupefied and the only option to stop this debauchery was to take control of yourself. The very moment you wanted to be indignant, your lips plunged into a passionate kiss, you never in your life would have thought he was so good at it. Each time the touch of his lips became more and more impatient, given only seconds to exhale and inhale, your tail went crazy and spun with the burning inside. The ground beneath your feet disappeared each time, but Quaritch's firm grip kept you from falling, pressing your wretched body closer to his, still holding your wrists higher.

-Stop, I can't breathe anymore… - You pulled away from the passionate kisses, to which the man only laughed.

-You didn't seem to mind, - he said smugly, finally letting go of your hands. You lifted your head and covered the back of your wrist, greedily gulping for air with your mouth. Unfortunately, the respite was very short; you could tell by the way Miles was touching you, because his hand had already climbed under your shirt. That movement made your tail rise and your body shudder again; the situation had to be saved, an idea popped into your head, and you had to make it happen somehow. You wrapped your arms around Miles' neck and dug into his lips, it was so sudden that the man began to pull back until you both fell into the grass.

-So you like being on top? - he smirked, watching your body.

-Sure, - you tried to reach for your bag, which wasn't far away, but his hands exploring your body, under your shirt, distracted you in every way possible. Finally reaching into the bag, you quickly pulled out a syringe and injected the drug into his shoulder, the man groaned in sharp pain, and you just got off him and sat down next to him, it was unwise to leave until the effects were completely gone, so you just waited for him to come to his senses. At this point the other guys were finally able to get to you, as it turned out they were just tied upside down to the trees, alive and well.

-Finally, now they're coming for us, - you sighed tiredly and looked at Miles, who was already the real Miles.

-What the hell… My goddamn head, what happened? Are we dead? - Holding his head, he tried to remember everything that had happened a few minutes ago, apparently the shock had been so severe that he had lost his memory.

-It's nothing, you just fell unconscious and I was trying to save you the whole time, - a lie for the good of both of them, you knew that if you told it like it was, there would be a lot of embarrassment and misunderstanding in your future service.

-Just passing out like that? Well, never mind, thanks, soldier, - his eyes stared into the distance, trying to remember something. After a few minutes of contemplation you heard the familiar hum of the engine, salvation finally came to you, and together with everyone else you went to the base. You spent the rest of the day in your own thoughts in your office, you also took samples of that poison that is so powerful, as it turns out the Na'vi use it in hunting to stupefy game and make them lose their minds.

At that moment there was a knock on the door, and the familiar figure of Miles stepped in.

-Oh, you feel better, did you want something? - You put aside your work and turned to him, there was not a single emotion on his face that you would normally see.

-You know, I behaved extremely rudely in my work with you and… - he paused and scratched his neck, - And I would like to apologize, - you rounded your eyes in surprise, but you apologized just as he did.

-It's okay, we just didn't see eye to eye, - you said, and you shook hands peacefully.

-But if you want to go on and talk about what we rehearsed after what happened in the woods, you know where to find me, - Miles grinned, your face ready to burn, he remembered every little detail? - For a nerd, you're an excellent kisser, - the colonel left the office after that phrase, leaving you alone with your thoughts and burning with embarrassment.

[atlashippingtournament]

Elimination Round: Uncle Iroh Ships

Beloved Uncle Iroh is an incorrigible flirt and a lady's man in the show, but fandom has some more flexible ideas when it comes to Iroh's love life. But can anything really measure up to his true love of tea? (Yes I had to include that option, it was submitted three separate times.)

[workingclasshistory]

On this day, 21 May 1830, 11 prisoners detained in the British Norfolk Island prison colony in the Pacific Ocean escaped. They seized provisions and wine, then stole a whale boat which had been brought by a visiting botanist. The escapees then sailed to nearby Phillip Island, where they still more provisions as well as pistols. They then sailed south. According to the Bathurst Free Press and Mining Journal, the next day there was bad weather "with a very heavy sea, and there is very little doubt that they all perished". But no bodies or wreckage was ever found, so it is possible the men made their escape. Norfolk Island was the most notorious prisoner in the English-speaking world, described variously as "hell on earth" and a "machine for extinguishing hope". Due to the remote nature of the islands, they were supposed to be used for the most dangerous and incorrigible criminals in the British Empire. But in reality most of the prisoners were workers from English industrial towns, the vast majority of whom had been convicted of non-violent property offences. And some convicts, like James McGivern, who was convicted of "buggering a cow" chose to be transported, because although he insisted he was "innocent of the offence… [he] pleaded guilty as [he] did not wish to remain at home". More information, sources and map: https://stories.workingclasshistory.com/article/7859/Norfolk-Island-escape Pictured: an illustration of convicts on the island https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=630051095834776&set=a.602588028581083&type=3

[beardedmrbean]

A 39-year-old Los Angeles man has been sentenced to nearly 23 years in federal prison for dozens of felonies that involved extorting Koreatown karaoke businesses using methods seemingly ripped from gangster films.

Woodland Hills resident Daekun Cho, 39, was convicted in March on 57 charges: 55 counts of interference with commerce by extortion, one count of attempted interference with commerce by extortion and one count of carjacking.

Prosecutors say that from 2018 until his arrest in March 2023, Cho “demanded ‘protection’ money from karaoke businesses in Koreatown, as well as from drivers of ‘doumis’ – or hostesses – employed by patrons of the karaoke establishments,” the U.S. Department of Justice said in news release.

Using threats — and at least once, a baseball bat — Cho “physically attacked, threatened, and instilled fear in his victims to induce them to pay him” so-called “protection fees” that ranged between $100 and $1,000 per month either in person or via Venmo, prosecutors said.

In one instance in May 2021, a doumi driver refused to pay Cho, so Cho and an accomplice “beat the victim with baseball bats until knocking him unconscious and then stole his minivan,” prosecutors detailed.

“The victim suffered a broken arm and multiple cuts and bruises,” the release said. “In response, the victim and his business partner closed their karaoke driving company, and the business partner left California.”

In July 2022, a different victim that was dropping two doumis off at a Koreatown karaoke bar was approached by Cho, who appeared to have something in the pocket of his hoodie. Prosecutors say the 39-year-old opened the victim’s car door with his sleeve to not leave any fingerprints and threatened the victim, telling him he was not “permitted to drop off doumis at the establishment.”

“As the victim drove away, he heard gunshots, breaking the car’s glass, a shard of which hit a doumi in the neck,” the release stated.

Yet another karaoke driver who paid Cho in cash for years and then over Venmo, which Cho began accepting during the pandemic, according to the DOJ, was assaulted in Jan. 2023 after he stopped paying.

The 39-year-old violently assaulted the man, stole $1,000 from him and threatened to kill him.

“In text messages shown at trial, Cho threatened many victims that if they did not pay him, they would ‘see the real demon,’ ‘face the consequence,’ ‘get beat up,’ or be ‘punch[ed],’ or Cho would ‘come see u’ or ‘kick u out of ktown,’” the release noted. “One victim testified at trial that Cho pointed a gun at a victim’s head when he refused to comply with Cho’s orders.”

At the time of his arrest, Cho had a 9mm firearm, a Glock 17 firearm, a partially built ghost gun, multiple high-capacity magazines loaded and ammo for a revolver. Prosecutors added that one of the firearms was fully loaded with the safety disengaged.

Cho also had an illegal knife, two metal baseball bats and $20,733 in cash.

“For years, this defendant terrorized merchants in Koreatown with his violent, shake-down schemes and intimidated victims into remaining silent,” said United States Attorney Martin Estrada. “But working with our local partners, we were able to uncover and expose this incorrigible racketeer. Extortionists who seek to profit through violence are on notice that we will use federal tools to hold them accountable and the consequences will be severe.”

Cho was sentenced in August to 270 months in federal prison and ordered to pay $240,167 in restitution, as well as $5,700 in special assessments.

Homeland Security Investigations and the Los Angeles Police Department investigated the case.

[lepartidelamort]

Allemagne occupée : l’héroïque Ursula Haverbeck, 95 ans, à nouveau persécutée par les tribunaux du régime juif !

Malgré la prison, l’héroïque Ursula Haverbeck, 95 ans, défie les menteurs juifs avec le sourire !

J’avais presque oublié que la démocratie en Allemagne est une infâme fistule sémitique.

C’est rectifié.

Bild :

C’est une vieille femme têtue et incorrigible : à 95 ans, la négationniste Ursula Haverbeck persiste dans ses opinions haineuses ! La vieille dame a de nouveau dû répondre de ses actes devant la justice : Haverbeck, très populaire dans les milieux néonazis, avait été condamnée en 2015 par le tribunal de Hambourg à dix mois de prison sans sursis pour incitation à la haine dans deux cas. Elle avait fait appel de cette décision. En 2015, en marge du procès de l’ancien SS Oskar Gröning, cette femme de 95 ans aurait déclaré devant des journalistes qu’Auschwitz n’était pas un camp d’extermination, mais un camp de travail. De plus, lors d’une interview télévisée avec le magazine « Panorama » de la NDR, elle a nié qu’il y ait eu une extermination massive d’êtres humains à Auschwitz.

Ben oui.

Il faut reparler de la porte en bois ?

Lors du procès en appel devant le tribunal régional, Mme Haverbeck a été conduite au tribunal vendredi midi par une entrée latérale, assise dans un fauteuil roulant. Vêtue d’un tailleur bleu foncé, elle a étudié de nombreux documents apportés par son avocat Wolfram Nahrath. Lorsque la juge a interrogé Haverbeck sur sa déclaration selon laquelle le camp de concentration d’Auschwitz n’était pas un camp d’extermination, mais un camp de travail, la femme de 95 ans a clairement souligné : « Je maintiens ma position ! » Pourtant, la femme de 95 ans, qui s’est présentée au tribunal de manière claire et ordonnée, n’a jamais été à Auschwitz, comme elle l’a indiqué. Reconnaissance ou repentir ? Aucune trace !

C’est ce qu’on appelle le courage et l’élégance.

Plusieurs dates de procès ont dû être reportées à plusieurs reprises pour diverses raisons (notamment surcharge de la chambre, Corona, cas de maladie), de sorte que le nouveau procès n’a eu lieu que près de neuf ans plus tard. Depuis des années, les tribunaux se penchent régulièrement sur les déclarations antisémites de Haverbeck. En 2004, elle a été condamnée pour la première fois et a reçu une amende. Haverbeck a également passé plus de deux ans en prison à l’établissement pénitentiaire de Bielefeld (Rhénanie-du-Nord-Westphalie) pour avoir nié l’Holocauste. En 2022, elle a de nouveau été condamnée par un tribunal berlinois à un an d’emprisonnement sans libération conditionnelle pour incitation à la haine. Le jugement est définitif.

Imaginez être flic et embastiller une nonagénaire pour faire plaisir aux juifs tandis que l’Afghanistan viole des gamines allemandes dans toutes les villes du pays.

À part les juges et les journalistes, il n’y a pas pire engeance que les flics.

Quand un régime est terrorisé par une mamie de 95 ans parce qu’elle dit quelque chose, c’est que ce quelque chose est de nature à faire s’effondrer ledit régime.

Il n’y a évidemment jamais eu de chambres à gaz à Auschwitz. Le plus énorme mensonge de l’histoire finira par être connu du plus grand nombre, au niveau planétaire.

Quand ce sera le cas, la colère des goyim arnaqués qui va s’abattre sur les têtes de ces juifs n’aura pas d’équivalent dans l’histoire.

Démocratie Participative