#larceny from a building

[hellenhighwater]

Can I ask did you build your catio from scratch or did you build it from one of those catio kits? I've been considering putting one on my balcony for the cats but I'm trying to figure out what options are out there that people recommend

I built mine from scratch and it's actually primarily an aviary--Arson and Larceny get the main space when the weather is above freezing at night; when it's too cold, they move into the house. Malice and Vice get the whole space when the doves are indoors, and when the doves are out, they just get the little "airlock" area that exists to keep the birds from having a straight shot to the sky when I open the main aviary door.

The prefab catios are a great option if you don't have the skills or tools to build one yourself. Depending on the shape of your balcony, you may actually be able to enclose it entirely. I can't recommend a specific product though.

If you're able to build something custom, it's likely to be less expensive than the purchased options and you can probably go bigger than most commercial options. For what it's worth, for anyone wanting a large outdoor "catio," you can pretty easily modify large covered dog kennels to be cat-proof--you can add zip ties to the tarp roofs to close gaps, cut an opening in the cage wall to make window access, and so on. Not quite as much work as building something wholly from scratch! As a random example, here's a $280 dog kennel vs a $280 catio, both on amazon.

If you're lucky, you can sometimes find these kinds of kennels secondhand on marketplace and just modify them from there. To be properly predator-proof, if that's a concern in your area, a structure should be covered in 1/2 in welded wire hardware cloth, which can be attached with screws and washers, wire ties, or industrial zip ties. (My aviary proper is predator proof but the airlock section is currently not. ) Ideally, you also want to cover down into the ground to prevent digging in/out, if you're on the dirt. If you're not able to fully predator proof, then make sure that your cats have an escape route to get quickly back into the house.

There's tons of options and it mostly depends on what you have space and resources for, but if you can make it secure, a catio is a great option for extra enrichment.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Blue and Fire Engine Red, Pt 5

Special thanks to @magicalstripedhorse, who helped keep this installment on track. :)

-----

“Oh no,” Kara drawls the moment she steps out onto the stoop of her building eight days later. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Lena smirks, leaning casually against the side of an old beat up pick up truck. The red ball-cap on her head is just as worn, its frayed bill extending backwards from Lena’s head.

“Flannel? Really?” Kara eyes the shirt in question where it’s tied around Lena’s waist. “Can you be any more of a lesbian?”

Lena spreads her hands. “We’re going to a farmer’s market,” she says. “What did you expect? An LBD?”

“Hm,” Kara hums, bouncing down the steps to greet her girlfriend with a kiss. “Maybe for dinner later.”

She definitely wouldn’t mind seeing Lena in a little black dress. Her mind conjures up an image that very nearly makes her pull Lena back upstairs, but the call of fresh fruit and vegetables proves to be too strong.

“All right, Tegan and Sara, let’s get going.”

The drive is somewhat familiar, as Kara has been to the farmers market before, but it’s been a while and it takes longer than Kara remembers. She’s not mad about it though– it gives her time to catch up with Lena about their weeks, which are relatively tame for a week in the life of first responders.

Lena had a few oven fires, a serious case of whiplash during a fender bender, and not one, but two cats stuck in a tree. Definitely tops Kara’s days of petty larceny, jaywalking, and a single wellness check. But she knows better than to comment on the relative slowness– the moment it’s acknowledged is the moment the sky starts to fall.

Just when the city gives way to suburbs, Lena turns the truck into a graveled parking lot. Kara takes note of the cars already there, and the thin stream of people already circulating through the stalls. It’s only mid-morning, and she expects the crowd will only grow as the day progresses. 

“Come on,” Kara calls as she hops out of the truck, slamming the dusty door behind her. “I need asparagus.” 

She gets her asparagus, and much more. She snags an artichoke and some lettuce as well as some strawberries she makes a note to prep for the next time Lena comes over. Lena splits away for a short moment, and comes back with fava beans and a joke about a nice chianti that makes Kara laugh.

Produce leads to cuts of various meats out of coolers. Lena nudges her. “You like steak?”

Kara’s mouth waters. “Oh, yeah.”

Lena requests two prime ribs, and tucks them and a slab of bacon into her tote alongside her fava beans. By the time they get to the baked goods and crafts, Kara’s own bag is sitting heavy in the crook of her elbow. She moves it to her shoulder instead, and has just prodded Lena towards a live herbs vendor when a call splits the air.

“Hey, Sarge!” 

Kara turns on instinct, and to her surprise Lena does as well. The expectant set of her features strikes Kara as odd, but she focuses her attention instead on who might have called for her. She doesn’t recognize any of the oncoming faces, which makes her frown.

“Sarge!” 

The crowd parts just long enough for a man in a wheelchair to roll out from the throng of people. His face is round and creased with joy as he coasts towards them, but Kara pulls back slightly when she doesn’t recognize him.

Lena steps forward. “Hey, Gonzales.”

Kara watches stunned as she extends her hand and engages in a sort of handshake with the man– palms, backs, and a fist bump top and bottom. Clearly, Lena is more than familiar with the man. Kara’s gaze darts back and forth between them, taking in Lena’s easy smile and the man’s eager countenance, which had yet to dim even when he turned his gaze to Kara.

“Yo,” Gonzales says with a grin. “When Jess said you stopped by the bar with a new lady friend, I knew she must have been a looker, but damn, Sarge–”

“Watch your mouth, Corporal.”

Kara steps up to introduce herself. “Sergeant, huh?” she says, smirking. Lena has yet to return to the subject of her time in the service, so Kara is thrilled to have even just her rank. “Who’d’a thunk?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Gonzales confirms. “The sergeant here was the best damn medic in the company. Saved our unit’s ass more than a couple times.” He rolls forward a few inches to offer a handshake. “Hector Gonzales, ma’am. Pleasure to meet one of the Sarge’s lady friends.”

“Police Sergeant Kara Danvers,” Kara returns. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Corporal.”

The man waves her off. “Please, it’s just Hector or Gonzales now. Gotta get used to the civvie life now. Right, Sarge?” 

Lena rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Sure.”

“You said you’re Jess’ brother?” Kara briefly scans Gonzales and notes an above the knee amputation and a serious burn scar on his right arm that stretched from his wrist to disappear under the sleeve of his t-shirt. 

Hector nods enthusiastically. “Yes, ma’am!” He shoots a bright look towards Lena. “Did she tell you she got early admission to NCU? Honors track.”

Lena beams. “No, she didn’t! That’s wonderful!”

“First choice and everything. She’ll be the first one in the family to go to college, you know.” 

“What is she planning to study?” Kara asks.

Hector’s grin is infectious. “Art. Our mother wanted her to be a lawyer, because that girl argue like nothing else, but she's had her sights on art from the beginning. Sarge has seen some of her drawings, when she sent some to me overseas. Remember Sarge?”

Lena nods. “They were pretty amazing.” 

Kara smiles, but a tug of sadness pulls at some of her joy for Jess. She’d almost gone to art school once. That had been the goal, before the shooting. After everything that happened… well, she hasn’t picked up a brush in a long time. 

“Hey,” Hector says, pulling Kara’s attention back to the conversation. “I’m getting some friends together to watch the game next weekend. You guys should come!”

Kara has no idea what game he means, or even what sport, but Lena nods. “Yeah, shoot me the details and we’ll try to make it.”

“Wilco, Sarge. Oh! And you can invite any of your folks from the firehouse too. I can tell them how lucky they are to have you.”

Lena’s cheeks flush pink. “Gonzales, I swear to god–”

“Hector!” A young hispanic woman calls from further down the aisle. “You were supposed meet me at– oh!” 

“Cecilia!” Hector waves at her, beckoning her closer. “C’mere, this is the Sarge!” 

Cecilia’s go wide. “Oh! Sergeant Reilly! I’ve heard so much about you!”

Lena’s easy smile widens. “Uh oh,” she groans comedically. She reaches for Kara, drawing her forward into the conversation. “This is Kara.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Kara offers gamely. They exchange handshakes, with smiles all around. Kara revels in being included, but even more so in the sense that she’s being allowed a further glimpse into who Lena is. 

Hector and Cecilia are sweet together. Hector is engaged and enthusiastic, while Cecilia is a little more reserved. But Lena converses easily, laughing and grinning, totally at ease in the presence of her fellow soldier. Eventually, Cecilia reminds Hector that they’re almost due to be somewhere else. 

“Right, right,” Hector nods. He prepares to roll away, but pauses to peg Lena with a stern gaze. “Game, next weekend. You’ll tell your crew?” 

Lena nods with a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll let ‘em know. Good catching up, Gonzalez. Take it easy.”

“You too, Sarge! Rolling out!” 

Lena watches them head off, then turns back towards Kara with a chagrined roll of her eyes. Her mouth opens, but Kara cuts her off. “Don’t you dare apologize,” she warns. “He was delightful.”

“Yeah,” Lena agrees. “He’s a good guy. Him and Jess both. They’re good eggs.”

“And besides, anyone who adores you like he does is definitely good in my book.”

This time, Lena’s roll of her eyes are directed at Kara. “Ah yes. Remind me to not let you two in a room alone. Who knows what shenanigans you’d get into–”

Suddenly a cry further down the aisle breaks through the buzz of people. Without conscious thought, or even a look between them, Kara and Lena both begin to push towards the call. Breaking through the circle already starting to form, they find a young woman seizing on the ground. 

Lena immediately kneels beside her, smoothly untying her flannel and folding it as a pillow to pad the woman’s head against the pavement. “Calling a bus,” Kara says briefly, already pulling her phone out to dial. 

“Hold up,” Lena calls, her voice firm with easy authority. “Got a medical alert bracelet here.” She flips the silver tag to read the inscription, then nods to herself. “No ambulance. Known condition.”

Kara nods her acknowledgement, pocketing her phone as she crouches. “What do you need?”

“Some water would be good, if you can find it.”

“On it,” Kara confirms, rising back to her feet. But the time she returns with a bottle of water from a nearby vendor, the girl’s seizing has stopped. She answers Lena’s questions with slurred, mumbling responses, but Lena doesn’t look concerned.

“Okay, Lydia, you’re doing great. Just take your time.” 

Kara kneels to one knee, handing over the bottle of water. “Any chance she hit her head?”

“I’ll evaluate once she’s a little more with it. So far nothing concerning.” She glances towards the lingering crowd. “Could you get us some space?”

The remaining onlookers moved on once Kara started waving them away, assuring them the situation was handled. When the last resume their shopping, Lydia is blinking up at Lena with eyes rapidly sharpening with focus.

“Welp. That’s embarrassing,” she delivers drolly, pressing a hand to her forehead.

“There you are,” Lena says, gently giving Lydia’s shoulder a pat. “Lydia, my name is Lieutenant Riley with the National City Fire Department. Do you feel ready to sit up? I’ve some water here I’d like you to sip.”

Lydia manages to sit upright with only a little bit of an assist from Lena. She accepts the open water bottle with both hands, which tremble as they lift the water to her lips. She takes several long gulps before groaning.

“Do you mind if I check your head for bumps?” Lena asks. “We want to make sure you didn’t hit your head on the way down.”

Lydia nods her consent, and holds still as Lena begins to investigate the back of her head with expert fingers. “Anything hurt?”

“Just my pride,” Lydia quips. When she catches Kara’s sympathetic gaze, she continues. “It’s still relatively new. My doctor says it should get better with medication, but… ugh! All I wanted was some asparagus!” She sighs. “At least I felt this one coming on– managed to sit down before it hit.”

Lena pulls away, placing her hands on her knees as she gives her patient a warm smile. “Well, I didn’t find any bumps or lumps, so it looks like that did the trick. Good thinking.”

“Oh god,” Lydia groans. “You didn’t call an ambulance, did you?”

“Nope.” Lena nods towards the girl’s wrist. “Medic alert did its job.”

“Thank goodness,” Lydia sighs in relief. “I seriously can not afford another trip.”

Lena chuckles, rubbing Lydia’s back. “I can imagine. How do you feel about trying to stand? I’d feel better if we got you to some shade.”

She gives Lydia a hand up, who seems steady on her feet. Once satisfied the girl wasn’t about to keel over, Lena nods towards a small patch of trees. “How about that bench over there?”

Kara hovers, adrift without a way to help. She carries hers and Lena’s bags of goodies along with her as they all move towards the bench. 

“How are you feeling?” Lena checks in once they’re seated.

Lydia pauses, taking stock. “Just tired, I think. Always feel like I got hit by a freight train, but it usually goes away.” She glances at Lena. “You guys seriously don’t have to stay.”

“I’d feel better if we did. Just until you feel well enough to finish up and get yourself home.” 

“Okay.” Lydia stares at the open water bottle resting on her thigh, then looks back to Lena. “You said you were a firefighter?”

“And medic,” Kara offers, unable to keep quiet. Lena’s eyes flash at her, but in affection or irritation, Kara can’t tell. 

Lydia’s eyes spark with interest. “I want to go to med school after undergrad. I don’t know what discipline yet, though.”

Kara listens to them converse for several minutes, propping herself up against the nearest tree. Closing her eyes against the sun, she breathes deep the smell of spring blossoms and fresh cut grass, letting the hum of their voices lull her to a state between waking and sleeping. Well, maybe more asleep than not, considering the bench is empty when she next blinks her eyes open. Lydia is nowhere to be found, and Lena is sitting on the ground beside her, scrolling through her phone. 

“You could have woken me up,” Kara gripes half-heartedly. 

“But it’s such a nice day to lean against a tree,” Lena returns, half teasing. 

Kara reaches over until she finds Lena’s hand, lacing their fingers together. Neither of them move to rise. 

“You were amazing just now.”

Lena merely shrugs. “Anyone in my position would have done the same.”

“We both know there aren’t many people who can do what you do.”

A hum answers her, but Lena refrains from saying anything else. Kara bites back a frown. She knows Lena doesn’t feel comfortable sharing anything about her time overseas as a combat medic– not entirely unexpected. Some of Kara’s veteran coworkers feel the same. And not all first responders respond well to positive recognition, which isn’t uncommon in the first responder community either. But Kara can’t shake the feeling in her gut that she heard a note of shame in Lena’s voice.

Whatever it is, Kara resolves to know it better, no matter how long it takes. 

“Wanna get out of here?” Lena asks quietly. “I think I hear a steak dinner calling your name.”

Kara grins, but closes her eyes and leans her head against the tree behind her once more. “Just a few more minutes.”

She hears Lena smile, then a rustle as Lena leans back as well. 

A good day indeed.

[redeemers-and-dragons]

Redeemers: Greenest in Flames! Prologue

Narration: A caravan of brightly painted carriages cuts through the verdant hills, heading for town of Greenest. The air is thick with the scent of pine trees and the chirp of birdsong, and the warm breeze blows through the leaves, creating a tranquil atmosphere. The travelers are eager to reach the sanctuary of Greenest before day’s end, hoping to enjoy a peaceful respite after their journey.

Among these travelers they are joined by a peculiar party of adventurers, newly formed and heading to their first mission together…

Reese: (Goblin Artillerist Artificer. Crime: Mass Destruction of Public and Private Property.) Are we there yet???

Party: *Groan in annoyance*

May: (Dark Heritage Half-Elf Gloomstalker Ranger. Crime: Vigilantism and Murder.) Reese, I promised you already. The second we are there, you are the first I will be telling. Now please… shush.

Reese: But we’ve been traveling forever!

Adam: (Minotaur Champion Fighter. Crime: Insurrection and Banditry) *Growls* It’s only been three days. 

Cinder: (Tiefling Fiendish Pact Warlock. Crime: Soul Racketeering and Organizing a Cult without a Permit.) It probably only feels so long because of your incessant whining.

Neon: (Tabaxi Kensei Monk. Crime: B&E and Assault with a Deadly Weapon) You should, like, totally take a note from Neo's book. She’s barely said anything this whole trip.

Neo: (Changeling Arcane Trickster Rogue. Crime: Grand Larceny and Identity Theft) *Flips Neon off.*

Reese: *Grumbles* Well maybe next time Sir Shiny-Pants should pick a closer quest! Where is he anyways?

May: I think he went off to pray.

Cinder: *Chuckles* Pray for mercy, maybe. Who ever heard of a knight with motion sickness?

Neo: *Makes some mocking dry heaving motions and then conjures an illusion of sparkles flying from her mouth.*

Adam: *Huffs* To think, our fate is in the hands of that human. My soldiers would never let me live it down.

Neon: Meh, at least he seems harmless enough. We could have been put with a real hard ass. I give it a week before we bully him into releasing us early.

Party: *Snickers and jeers amongst themselves*

Jaune: (Human Oath of Redemption Paladin. Duty: Redeeming the Party Before the Eyes of the Law and the Sovereign Gods.) *Jogging up after meditating to calm down his motion sickness* Hey everyone! Did some tell a funny joke or something?

Cinder: Oh just the usual banter. Nothing you’d find amusing I’m sure.

Reese: KNIGHT ARE WE THERE YET?!

Cinder: See?

Jaune: Actually, yes Reese. We should be there in like 10 minutes. *Points over pass them* Should be just over that big hill.

The Party: *Various sighs of relief.*

Reese: See?! I knew it was a valid question!

May: So, what are we going to be doing here?

Neon: Yeah, and how exactly is this “Redemption Quest” even supposed to work? Are we, like, building karma points or something til you let us go?

Neo: *Casts Minor Illusion to create a scoreboard with 100 points above her head.*

Jaune: Well, to complete a Redemption Quest, you six will have to complete a good deed with pure of heart in order to make up for your past sins. I’ll be there to watch over your progress and help usher you to the path of good and get you pardoned for your crimes.

Cinder: And so you’re sending a bunch of convicted criminals to do quests for the state.

Adam: Yeah, what are we, some kind of Suicide Sq-?

Jaune: NO! No. We are “Adventurers”. A group of adventurers who most of which just so happen to have darker paths…

May: That still doesn’t answer the question of why we’re going to Greennest. Is there a quest already decided for us?

Jaune: There should be. We’ll be meeting a man in Greenest that goes by the name Qrow Branwen. Apparently he needs help with an investigation.

Neon: What is he investigating?

Jaune: I’m not too sure. Something about bandits I think? But don’t worry, I’m sure it’s nothing too dangerous. The Church wouldn’t give out something big or important for a “Redemption Quest,” or to a squire of my level. All you will probably have to do is help out however you can and we will get you all pardoned in no time! Simple as that.

Narration: Sundown is approaching just as the caravan crests the hill and spots the town of Greenest just a few short miles away. But instead of the pleasant welcoming town they expected, the Party sees columns of smoke rising from burning buildings, running figures that are little more than dots from this distance, and a dark winged shaped wheeling low over the stone keep that rises from the center of town. The red skies of sunset turn a violent purple as the far off dragon breathes lightning bolts down onto the town.

The Party: …

Jaune: …Well. This may be-

Adam: *Bellows at the top his lungs and charges off towards the town.*

Neon: *Runs after him* I’m getting that pardon first!

Reese: *Runs* Jokes on you shitheads, I’m getting DOUBLE pardoned!

May: *Rolls her eye and chases after them* That’s not how pardons work.

Cinder: *Rushes forward* If you see any extra souls lying around, save them for me!

Neo: *Gleefully runs towards the town to start looting.*

Jaune: *Stands there watching as his half a dozen criminals run into a burning town.* …Boldrei give me strength.

[ourfag]

A made-up fic title for you:

✨All That Glitters ✨

ok so my first instinct is to follow the too-good-to-be-true appeal/deception theme—modern au, ed’s a scammer who singles stede out online for his immense disposable income, establishes contact over text/internet, finds it astonishingly fun to build a rapport with him, and starts siphoning money earlier in the game than he ever has before. it’s a personal record. izzy’s chuffed. ed’s kind of meh about it.

unfortunately: this is a gentlebeard fanfiction and ed is falling in love with the mark.

he works independently and he’s good at what he does, so he’s not in any kind of debt; at this point in his life he’s scamming for scamming’s sake. he doesn’t need stede’s money for anything, he’s just kind of accumulating it and not using it. the thought of spending it doesn’t make him feel good. no particular reason.

izzy’s getting on him about extracting some higher figures from this guy already, and ed knows he’s right, he’s stalling. he’s gonna bleed this guy out. it’s what he does. it’s who he is. he doesn’t get to just walk away from it.

….stede, though. now, if stede walked away, well, not much ed could do about that. it happens. it would suck, but ruining stede’s life would suck more.

there’s two directions i can see things going from here and i’d probably decide based on which one lends itself to funnier problems:

1. ed starts accidentally-on-purpose getting sloppy. irreconcilable inconsistencies, weird places he’s asking stede to wire money, slipping in hints that he’s not legit, with increasing blatancy because as far as he can tell, all of these things are flying over stede’s head. they’re also flying over izzy’s head because he’s not good enough with people to notice the drop in quality.

2. they live in the same city, or at least the same general region of the country, so ed Coincidentally happens upon a Chance Meeting with stede in real life. totally randomly and not on purpose and good luck proving otherwise. stede has no idea who ed is but they hit it off immediately (again) and if ed had any doubts that he’s utterly in love with this guy then those have been obliterated by stede’s 100000 watt smile. they grow close. ed expresses some skepticism about jeff, stede’s very good friend jeff, who maybe seems a little sketchy? maybe he’s not who he says he is? but the thing is ed’s really good at what he does. so he’s having a hard time finding holes to poke in jeff’s story. and if he’s too unduly critical towards jeff then he’s just gonna look jealous—

actually now that i think of it option 2 followed by option 1 could work nicely. maybe i wouldnt have to choose

anyway. while all this is going on stede’s had his suspicions that his money was not going where jeff said it was going but he’s been going along with it anyway because jeff is really nice to talk to and because stede thinks it’s important that criminals work to uplift one another (in his spare time stede has been committing larceny.)

[niuttuc]

Hand Over the Spoons!

My latest paper deck isn't the most original, but it's a blast to play. We're doing a theft!

Gonti is an incredibly fun card, but they're a bit slow in today's environment. Lobelia here offers the same kind of gameplay but a taste of EVERYONE's decks, as well as free casting of the stolen spells, though requires a bit of effort to build around to have artifacts to keep feeding her. Gonti still has a place of honor in the 99 though.

Because we're in black, and it makes people slightly less miffed, most of our theft in the deck is from the opponents' decks or graveyard, cards they aren't actively using or used resources to deploy. But to add some spice, the deck as at least one card capable of stealing from most zones, so that nowhere is safe from being yoinked.

As a result of stealing from the graveyard, we also have some reanimation package, nothing groundbreaking here. Note that not ALL our reanimation can target other people, the stuff that can only target our graveyard tends to be repeatable, to sac and bring back Lobelia, as she can easily run out of good cards to cast and need to be killed and brought back for a new batch of larceny.

Wincons are important in any deck, and if ideally this deck prefers snagging an opponent's wincon and using that as OUR wincon, in practice sometimes opponents aren't cooperative in their deck choices. As a result, we have a few finishers of our own to turn the very act of thievery into a threat, and also Rise of the Dark Realms which DOES steal all opponents' entire graveyard as part of winning the game.

Another important things is generating artifacts to fuel Lobelia. Here, we mostly morph our generic choices around that fact to have a critical mass of them. It's not really difficult to do so in a world of treasures and clues and food and blood.

The theft itself is exactly what you'd expect. Though the benefit of being mono-colored is that you can dig a bit deeper as far as fun cards for the theme.

Even our interaction package has a tendency to nab things along the way!

All in all, I'm very happy that I assembled this one in paper, so far it's been a blast, and keeping secret the cards stolen face down by Lobelia or others can lead to very funny moments. The big advantage of these kinds of decks is that every game is fundamentally different, since you'll be stealing from different decks every time.

[diazsdimples]

Fuck it Friday!

Doing this on a Sunday cause I just got back from my cousin's wedding, whoops. Tagged by @wikiangela and @fionaswhvre. Here's another snippet of dad!Buck!

Buck and Eddie leaned against the kitchen counter as they watched the gaggle of toddlers playing in the lounge. Aidan was a blur of ginger hair as he raced from one end of the room to the other, hyped up on the cake he’d eaten. Buck shook his head fondly as he watched his son run circles around a little girl. “He’s a little energiser bunny, that boy” said Eddie with a smirk as he watched Aidan screech to a halt in front of the little girl, panting slightly before holding out his hand for the toy dinosaur she had clutched to her front. “Maddie says I was the same at his age; always on the go and unable to stay still for more than 5 seconds” Buck replied. He intercepted the cookie Eddie was bringing to his mouth and plucked it delicately from his fingers, popping it into his own mouth while ignoring Eddie’s yelp of protest. “Hopefully he doesn’t inherit your kleptomaniac tendencies too” Eddie frowned as Buck licked his fingers clean, smacking his lips appreciatively. “’M not a kleptomaniac” Buck protested, his mouth full. “Juss apprefiate da finer fings in life” Unfortunately, it seemed Aidan had inherited Buck’s propensity for larceny, as Buck looked up just in time to watch Aidan snatch the dinosaur from the little girl’s arms. “Ah shit” Buck said, swallowing the cookie hastily before striding across the room as the little girl began to wail. He crouched down in front of the two toddlers, pulling the sobbing girl into his arms and turning to face Aidan. “Why did you take Hailey’s toy, Aidan?” Buck asked calmy. Aidan looked at him defiantly. “Mine” he said. Buck raised an eyebrow at him. “Hailey was playing with it before you, wasn’t she?” he said, watching as Aidan squirmed under his gaze. “It’s not nice to take things without asking, bud”. Aidan looked down at his feet. “Mine, Daddy” he repeated, his voice small. Buck could see his chin wobbling slightly. Hailey, who until this moment had had her face tucked in Buck’s shoulder, reached out to grasp onto the tail of the dinosaur and gave it a quick tug. “Hailey, wait!” Buck protested, trying to stop the little girl from snatching the toy back but it was too late. The dinosaur slid from Aidan’s grasp and Hailey was off like a shot, giggling as she sped towards another group of toddlers. Buck could only watch in dismay as Aidan’s face crumpled. Aidan turned on his heel and fled towards the kitchen, running headfirst into Eddie’s leg as he wailed. Eddie let out a noise of surprise and reached down to pick up his crying son, swinging him up onto his hip. “What happened, mijo?” he asked, rubbing Aidan’s back as he sobbed into his neck. “Lee took dino, Papa” Aidan said between sobs, his voice muffled. Eddie tutted sympathetically as he swayed back and forth. He caught Buck’s eye across the room and sent him a playful eyeroll. “Life falls apart so easily when you’re two” Buck complained as he joined his boys in the kitchen. He pinched between his eyes, feeling a headache building. Whoever thought holding a birthday party with a group of 10 toddlers was a good idea was clearly some sort of sadist. It felt like him and Eddie had been putting out fires all afternoon, even more so than in their actual jobs. Eddie checked his watch. “Only an hour to go and then we can herd them out the door and get some peace and quiet”. “Couldn’t come soon enough” Buck agreed. He reached over to rub Aidan’s back and pressed a kiss into his hair. “Shall we go back and play?” he quietly said into the boy’s ear. Aidan lifted his head from Eddie’s shoulder, his face red and tear stained. He let out a pathetic sniff and wiped his nose with the back of his hand before nodding and reaching out to Buck. “Daddy play with me?” he asked quietly. “Daddy will play with you” Buck confirmed as he carried Aidan back into the lounge, setting him on the floor among his friends.

Tagging (feel free to do this next friday lmao) @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @watchyourbuck @callmenewbie @housewifebuck @eddiebabygirldiaz @darkangel2792 @evanbegins @cal-daisies-and-briars @thosetwofirefighters and anyone else who wants to do it!

[nitrosplicer]

https://www.insurrecthistory.com/archives/2022/01/10/i-always-dressed-this-way-surfacing-nineteenth-century-trans-history-through-mary-jones

“We know the lurid details of [Mary Jones’s] legal troubles made her a minor recurring figure in local newspapers during her life. One rare glimpse of her own voice comes from court testimony recorded during People vs. Sewally when she was asked why she wore women’s clothing. Jones explained:

“I have have been in the practice of waiting upon Girls of ill fame…they induced me to dress in Women’s Clothes, saying I looked so much better in them and I have always attended parties among the people of my own Colour dressed in this way – and in New Orleans I always dressed this way.”

But beyond the brief, strategically crafted narratives given in court, little of her life, thoughts, feelings, and relationships is known.

Jones’ interactions with the carceral system–and her intermittent, sensationalizedappearances in newspapers throughout the 1830’s to 50’s–must be understood within her specific historical context. The United States' growing urban populations, particularly in northeastern cities such as New York, rendered trans communities increasingly visible, inviting increasing public and political concern with crossdressing. A wave of anti-masquerade laws intended to forestall deceptions across racial lines were passed across the United States during Jones’ lifetime, including New York’s 1845 penal code 240.35(4); they were also quickly marshaled to harass trans people. In 1836, Jones was arrested for stealing the wallet of Robert Haslem, a white man who solicited her sex work. A lithograph published following her conviction for grand larceny depicts Jones as a beautiful woman, elegantly dressed and calmly side-eyeing the viewer. The caption describes her as “The MAN-MONSTER.”… a label that at once denies Jones’ womanhood by suturing her to the category “man” while excluding her from that category through the epithet “monster.”

The name “man-monster” places Jones at the nexus of two continuing histories of attempted dehumanization. Misogynoir constructs Black women as improperly feminine and therefore improperly human. Transmisogynist bigotry dehumanizes trans women by denying manhood and womanhood, thus rendering us neuter–an inhuman “it.” The archival objects that inform us about Jones bear witness to forms of oppression that continue to the present– to an intricate, pernicious, and ongoing mingling of racism, misogyny, and transphobia. The public mockery and carceral violence inflicted on Jones should be understood as analogous to the violent backlash against trans women of color that has followed our current moment of trans visibility – a backlash resulting in 2021 being the deadliest year for trans people on record in the United States. Justice demands that we remember the cruelties Jones suffered as we work to build a world that would make them truly locked in a historical past.”

[beardedmrbean]

A local Democratic Party chair in North Carolina resigned this week after he was arrested for allegedly ripping out and stealing roadside signs supporting former President Donald Trump. 

Lowell Simon, the now former chair of the Moore County Democratic Party, who is also running for North Carolina House in November, was charged with two counts of misdemeanor larceny of political signs. 

The Moore County Democratic Party announced in a Facebook post on Monday that 68-year-old Simon had resigned as chair "following recent allegations and arrest related to the theft of political signs." 

The Moore County Sheriff's Office said a deputy working in the West End area observed Simon removing campaign signs from the roadside along Seven Lakes Drive at approximately 5:25 p.m. Thursday. 

"The deputy, who was responding to an unrelated call at the time, later followed up at Simon’s residence, where the signs were found in his vehicle," according to the office. "Simon admitted to removing the signs, which were then recovered and returned to their original owner." 

A warrant for Simon's arrest was issued Saturday. He was released "under a written promise to appear in court," according to the sheriff's office, and his first court appearance is scheduled for Oct. 30. 

"While we appreciate the hard work and dedication he has shown to the Democratic Party and the community, the Moore County Democratic Party cannot and will not condone the tampering of political signs or any other illegal activity," the local party wrote on Facebook. "Mr. Simon has offered an apology for his actions, as well as his resignation, both of which have been accepted by the MCDP."

WRAL, the outlet that interviewed Simon over the phone after his arrest, said the local chair complained that signs he had already placed in support of Democratic gubernatorial candidate Josh Stein, the state’s current attorney general running against Republican Lt. Gov. Mark Robinson, were obstructed by new signs later set up in front of them that read: "Trump low taxes, Kamala high taxes." 

"My worse angels got the better of me and I removed the signs," Simon said. "I shouldn't have done that. I didn't do it in the stealth of night or anything. I did it when it was five o'clock in the afternoon."

"We believe in the importance of freedom of expression and speech, and hope that local law enforcement will continue to enforce such laws that protect those freedoms fairly and without bias across party lines," the local party added. "As we move forward, our focus will remain on electing Democrats up and down the ballot in this critical election. Together, we are committed to promoting the values of justice, fairness, and freedom that our Party holds dear, and we look forward to building a better future for all in Moore County."

Last week, Moore County Sheriff Ronnie Fields, a Republican, also issued a reminder to the public after Simon's arrest "that the removal or theft of campaign signs is a violation of North Carolina General Statute § 136-32(e), which protects the lawful placement of these signs during election periods." 

[punderdome]

Infernal Jurisprudence: Chapter 2

Summary: Raphael keeps a watchful eye on his investments.

Rating: 18+

[AO3]

Chapter 2: The Mirror

Raphael had tasked Korrilla with following the Little Mouse and learning as much about her as possible.  Each day she reported back small pieces of information she learned from following the infected companions.

The Little Mouse's full name was Tavara Aureum, and she originally hailed from Baldur’s Gate.  She worked as a researcher of some kind at the university.   Now that he had better direction on her origins, it would be much simpler to find information about her and her history.  He tasked other warlocks with investigating her by both legal and illegal means.

Raphael paid close attention to how his prized adventurers were doing.  There was some kind of confrontation at the river’s edge with a flock of harpies trying to eat a foolish child.  The cambion preferred to keep informed of the plight of the refugees.  The odds were favorable that many of the adults would be willing to sign contracts to save their children, despite having just been freed from Avernus.  One of the older Tiefling children was a young girl who was thieving from the druids and scheming to run a crime ring.  She seemed of the reasonable type to take the unsavory path into his service, being the very being that sent the foolish child to the harpy nest.

Raphael picked up his scrying mirror and viewed the camp of his band of infected adventurers and observed quietly, looking for information he could use to his benefit.  

The Gith, Lae’zel of creche Kliir, was frustrated by their lack of any progress towards finding a useless Githyanki creche that would certainly only reduce the number of competent members of the little group.  The naive warrior had never known the actual fate of any who had experienced a zaith’isk.

There was the sanctimonious Warlock, son of Duke Ravengard, who wore hypocrisy on his horned head after sparing the Tiefling and then demanding some kind of sympathy for it.  He knew which agreement he signed and the consequences for default.  The least he could do was to stop pouting over his own foolishness.

There was a poorly-concealed Sharran cleric brooding in the camp.  She carried the Astral Prism on her person and smugly demanded complete privacy while also wearing Shar’s sigils on her armor. Shar’s worshippers were supposed to be more subtle than that.  That lesson was something that the cleric apparently had also forgotten.

The vampire spawn was pretending to be a magistrate while also displaying an aptitude for larceny.  The courts in Baldur’s Gate were not quite so corrupt as to demand both of those skill sets.  

The burning Tiefling was generally unproblematic, despite her lack of trust in Infernal beings.  

The former chosen of Mystra, Gale of Waterdeep.   He was much diminished in power but not knowledge, and could be a powerful vessel if tamed for an Infernal purpose.  Should he prove malleable, he could present a stronger Warlock than whatever pitiful pact the ‘Blade of Frontiers’ was offered.

Tavara Aureum.  Draconic ancestry.  Researcher.  Speaks Infernal.

Raphael took out his scrying mirror to check on his investments.  Tavara and the Warlock had managed to talk down a decrepit village full of goblins.  The pathetic little wretches fled from the broken buildings without much fuss after inviting some wrathful threats.  A second group of goblins was keeping their camp up by the windmill, gleefully torturing a Deep Gnome by affixing him to the windmill blades.  The Gnome's screams and calls were sweet and delicious.  Raphael pondered this version of torture for his own dungeons.  Spinning screaming debtors around and around, faster and faster.  He would make sure to save that particular punishment for the debtors with acrophobia.

How many revolutions of the mill would it take before his debtors screams would cause their vocal cords to hemorrhage?  Blood flicking from their lips with each turn of the grindstone.

The ridiculous little band of fools and the sorceress found the dark below the village and the arachnids lurking down in the dark.  Raphael wondered which of them feared spiders and how many of their limbs would appear black from poison.  Those unlucky fools would have fouled and melting flesh while they screamed trapped within the sticky silk of a spider's web.

The matriarch was a fearsome creature, turned by Lloth.  Many of the Archdevils of the Hells had sought out their own spiders for their dungeons.  Giant arachnids made for extremely efficient torture devices and allowed for exquisite punishment of debtors en masse.  Fearful debtors would crush and tear each other to pieces, provided it meant they escaped their own encasement in web and slow desiccation into husks.

It was amusing to watch the mortal band as they battled the giant spider, sticking to the webbing below them as other smaller spiders clicked and danced around them.  Sprays of poison had infected the wizard and Tiefling, leaving them coughing and gasping for breath.  The band of adventurers had so much promise, but Raphael could and would not do all of their work for them.  They would have to regain their powers on their own.

The matriarch bit deeply into the Little Mouse’s shoulder, and the Little Mouse squeaked in agony as the poison spread through her veins.  Raphael found those noises to be less agreeable than he expected.  The spider recoiled in pain as shards of ice shredded her exoskeleton in decisive retribution.

Before long, the little band of fools had slain the matriarch and each of her spiderlings.  The sight of gore, charred web, and splattered hemolymph were all that remained of the beasts in the dark beneath the well.  The dark, dank cavern had fallen silent once more.

The Little Mouse was hunched over in agony from the force of the bite and the poison spreading through her weak mortal form.  One of the other fools thrust a potion of antidote into her hands as the ridiculous Sharran cleric assisted in mending the bite from the spider’s fangs on her shoulder.  Many of the others had also looked weary and in pathetic shape, bearing wounds and scratches of their own or reeling from the aftereffects of spider venom.  Raphael cared little for their wounds but as long as the Little Mouse was healed first, the Sharran could waste her energies on the others as much as she wanted.

Seeing that order had been restored to the cavern, Raphael went back to work.

****

Raphael paced through his study, with several contracts unfinished.  His gaze occasionally went back to the scrying mirror, wanting to see how his investments had fared.  Not well, for some of them but presumably better after forcing healing concoctions down their fragile mortal throats.

The Little Mouse had been bitten by a spider instead of a cat.   Raphael snapped to summon Korrilla.

“I have updated instructions for you,” Raphael informed the trusted Dwarf.  “Continue to surveil Tavara Aureum, but if the sorceress appears in mortal peril, intervene by either eliminating the threats or bringing her back here to the restoration pool as a last resort.”

Korrilla’s face was blank.  “Of course, Master Raphael.”  She snapped and disappeared to resume her duties.  Raphael sat back at his desk to resume his work.  Korrilla was ever the diligent employ, unlike her contemptuous sister.

Raphael continued to work on his schemes but found the sorceress constantly coming into the forefront of his mind.  He occasionally took quick breaks from his contract work to see the Mouse in his scrying mirror, hoping she had cleaned up properly following the spider’s bite.  It would be such a pity for the puncture of fangs to have permanently marred her form.  Even if the bite had left scarring, Raphael could easily fix it for her for a simple price of a peek at the bare flesh.  Tavara had just stepped out of a bath in the river that evening and was barely covered up, rivulets of water still trickling down her arms that glittered like the scales on her cheeks in the setting sun.  He watched the gooseflesh appear on her arms and legs as she shuddered.

The odd little creature appeared so different with her hair disheveled and weighed down with the damp.  She seemed much smaller to him than when she had stood in front of him in the House of Hope and so very soft.  It was a much appreciated change from her defiance and Infernal challenges that she had presented to him at their feast.  How much discipline would it take to tame a Little Mouse?

Tavara was pulling a wooden comb through her curls, the ragged cloth serving as her towel slipped slightly to expose another small area of flesh around her breasts and a patch of scales between them.  Her nimble hands worked diligently over her long hair.  Her nipples were hard from the chill, barely covered by the cloth she had covered herself with.

Raphael watched her for some time.  He pondered where else on her body she had scales.

One Little Mouse in evening light

The sun shines brightly upon each scale

Readies herself for a peaceful night

Sleeping bare under a moonlit pale

Raphael set the mirror down and paced around his study.  He was half-hard and slightly straining in his trousers.  He walked swiftly, trying to burn off the energy and arousal.  He needed to get back to work, but the image of Tavara barely covered was seared into his mind.

The contracts could wait.

Raphael snapped and arrived in the Boudoir in a swirl of embers.  Haarlep was laying on the bed, writhing like a cat atop the red silk sheets.  Their fingers traced seductively over the black leather harness and slipping beneath the straps to stroke their warm skin, trying to lure in their master.

“Master, have you come to play?” Haarlep purred, stretching and arching their back.  They wore the Archduke’s form, but Raphael had no interest in that today.

“Change into the Archduchess,” Raphael ordered, and the incubus complied without complaint.  Haarlep perched neatly on the bed awaiting naughty instruction.  Raphael snapped and his clothing disappeared.  He laid down on his back next to the waiting incubus, his wings splaying over the sheets.

Raphael said nothing else and merely motioned to his cock.  Haarlep took the invitation greedily and lowered their mouth, eagerly taking the Master and licking their forked tongue up and down Raphael’s entire shaft, flicking cheekily at the head and making him groan.

The cambion closed his eyes.  He pictured a soft, wet mortal tongue pleasuring him.  He wanted to fuck into the sorceress’s wanton mouth.  He imagined fucking himself deep into her throat until she was gagging on him as punishment for her disobedience in his dining hall.  Raphael pulled Haarlep’s head further down by their hair until they took him into their throat.  Haarlep let out a frisky, excited moan, nothing like the Little Mouse would have sounded like.  Haarlep seemed to be enjoying the roughness, but Raphael wanted the sorceress to be taking his punishment obediently, so he could reward her with his pleasure.  He pulled Haarlep’s hair harder and thrust quickly into their mouth, trying to get the incubus to elicit the gagging noises of punishment that he expected from the Little Mouse.  Every tug only seemed to make Haarlep more excited.  Raphael twitched slightly, wanting to hear lewd little sounds from the Little Mouse.

The Little Mouse would want mercy, begging for it with her big green eyes.  Raphael was nothing if not humane.  When the Mouse was gagging on him, he would stop and let her please him more gently.  Her gentle mortal mouth would need to be given a gentler punishment or else he would accidentally break her.

Raphael felt Haarlep’s feminine hand wrap around his shaft and give firm, pleasurable pumps.  He opened his eyes and the spell was broken.  Clawed incubus hands.   Haarlep looked up at his gaze, their look filthy and lusting.  Raphael moaned in pleasure again as his incubus took him deeply into their throat.  If he wasn’t being so rough and pulling on her, the Little Mouse would eventually adjust to the depth he found most appealing.  Such an obedient little creature.

Raphael closed his eyes and savored the Little Mouse’s warm, sweet lips around him.  He gripped the sheets in his clawed hand as he felt his orgasm approaching.  Her green eyes were looking up at him, eagerly awaiting his pleasure.  Haarlep hummed gently with his cock deep down their throat, and Raphael felt himself starting to lose control.  She would enjoy it as much as he did.   Haarlep kept a firm, consistent rhythm.  Her desire for him was wound into every thrust of him deep into her mouth.

“Little Mouse,” Raphael grunted as he spilled himself down Haarlep’s throat, drunk on the intense pleasure that her tongue was continuing to coax out of him.   The Little Mouse obediently swallowed all of his seed and cleaned up any excess left on his cock.  Her sweet little tongue licked him gently and rapidly, igniting every nerve near the tip of his cock, and made Raphael’s eyes roll back in his head.

Raphael opened his eyes and saw the incubus grinning up at him.  “Master, you really enjoyed yourself,” they purred.  “Would you like some venom, so we can continue to play?”

Raphael rose from the bed in the Boudoir and snapped again, redressing quickly.  He ignored Haarlep’s pathetic pouting and returned to his study without another word.

He grabbed the scrying mirror and summoned the image of his Little Mouse.  She was sitting by a campfire, completely dressed in a comfortable set of loose pants and a white, linen shirt.  They were both too large for her and hid her form far more than he liked.  Raphael imagined her in an elegant nightdress made of white silk.

Silk.  Soft.  Just like her tongue.

A/N: This fic is definitely going to be significantly smuttier than the sister fic. I'm pretty sure no one thinks that's a problem. Raphael, our favorite Archdevil Supreme, has a Tav surrogate, and he is definitely not going to be constantly using their Archduchess form. I also think it could be fun to explore the other little details from Fine Print like Raphael's reaction to Astarion stealing Tav's panties from her laundry basket, his absolute disdain for Gale, how fucking tired Korrilla is of Tav, and lots of other machinations and schemes that you'll learn about from Tav's perspective later.

[dumb-hat]

roots: Is your OC's look inspired by any specific style of clothing or fashion trend? What are the roots and/or inspiration for their look?

(I'm coming back to that Exalted one, trust me.)

So, I guess this is another good place to talk about the out-of-character origin of Evander.

Ages ago (like, 11-12 years!), he got his start as a Bard with the Archaeologist archetype in a Pathfinder game that @luck-and-larceny ran for me, @irascibleblackguard and @kalencook. As an archaeologist, he had to have an Indiana Jones-style hat. Other than that, he was a short, scruffy looking guy of... around 5'7-5'8, I think? I'm pretty sure he ended up gaining an inch when I made him in Final Fantasy XIV, but he was a contrast to a lot of the other characters I had played recently, which were mostly taller. The point is, a lot of his visual traits (general color palette, height and build) and habits (hedonism, a tendency to go to great lengths to make it look like he went to no lengths at all... The guy loves "artfully disheveled" in all his forms) got their start there, in a tabletop game that happened well over a decade ago. I dug around and even found some art from waaaay back when:

I honestly don't remember why he has a pimp cane, but I kinda love it. Also, no, that's not actually, technically a proto-Malika stealing his money pouch. It's a completely different troublesome, dark-haired girl.

(He may have a type. I may have a type.)

Anyway, when I first made him in FFXIV, I was mostly playing on Gilgamesh and just kinda made him because Mal pointed out that Balmung was open and this was the old nightmare days when you could, like, almost never make a character on Balmung. So I made him, did the seasonal event (I think it was the 2014 Moonfire Faire, but don't quote me on that) and logged out on him for like... years.

I didn't start actually playing on Balmung until like... right around Shadowbringers, and I figured I might as well play Evander since he was like... Right there. He didn't really sit right with me, though. I went through a few fantasias and hair changes and stuff, and he just didn't click until I went to the market board and started looking at the low-level glam stuff and saw the beloved dumb hat. It wasn't a jaunty feathered cap, and it wasn't an archaeologist's fedora, but... It was perfect. I looked at it. I tried it on. It was dirt cheap, so I bought it. I chortled and guffawed, and told Mal "Hey, look. Look at him. Look at this dumb hat. I'm gonna wear it with everything.

And so I did. The hair still didn't look right, and wouldn't until I'd eventually cave and buy Aymeric's whole damn look just for his hair, but god, the hat helped. Everyone just immediately assumes he's a cowboy, which is kinda funny, but other than that? Worth it.

Ask me stuff! oc asks: character design edition

[bizarrelittlemew]

ooooo I love this game, for the fic titles, "eat, pray, larceny"

modern au: Ed is a traveling food critic and one of the most highly regarded, but originally, he only became one to have a cover for traveling around the world and carrying out heists, usually of expensive art pieces. he has grown weary of both and is considering retirement when one night, he is suddenly faced with a competing robber going after the same piece, and who tricks his right-hand man Izzy and gets away with the prize (but not before Ed manages to unmask him and get a look at his very distinct face and golden hair).

the very next day, Ed is supposed to sample a new restaurant in the area - Dutch-Caribbean fusion - while still fuming about the fiasco the night before, but he is taken aback by how much he enjoys the unusual dishes and eccentric surroundings, so much that he forgets to grumble about the other robber (and his stupid beautiful hair and dumb cute dimple and broad build that Ed definitely doesn't want to climb like a sexy sturdy tree). that is until he wants to give his compliments to the chef by the end of the meal, and it turns out he is none other than Ed's golden-haired rival.

much to Izzy's chagrin, Ed and Stede team up for Ed's final heist, and the reason Stede started his robber career: a priceless piece owned by Stede's father that he tricked from a young, struggling artist (Lucius) who didn't know the worth of the small painting gifted to him by his old instructor before his death. along the way, Stede realizes that he can never return to his old life after this, and also that he is very, very in love with Ed <3

send me a made-up fic title and i'll tell you what i would write to go with it

[infernafiresword]

For "World is At My Feet",

5: What part was hardest to write? (you can answer this for Healing Light too, should you wish)

6: What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics? (you can answer this for Healing Light too, should you wish)

7: Where did the title come from? (I don't know if I ever asked you about this, but I already know the answer for Healing Light XD)

💜, Rora

Hi Rora! <3

5: For World, it was the build-up to Impulse’s manifestation. It took a while to find the thread to start on! For Healing Light: I had such a hard time with the party section, as evidenced by me turning it over to you xD

6: For Healing Light, it was my first collaborative fic I’ve ever written, and my first project with you! :) For World: it’s the first solo story I’ve written, start to finish, I’ve written in ages.

7: Technically I told you where the title came from in the opening notes — it’s a line from “Another Level” by Oh the Larceny — but it felt like the right title for a story regarding a villainous origin story, especially since Impulse didn’t have ‘one bad day’, just a crappy life in general and got handed power randomly.

Thank you, bestie!

[arcaneglitch]

alr im back for round 2. ur guardians. all of 'em. what's their theme song.

I hope you know what you asked for when you said all of my Guardians

Harley - Take You Down by Illenium

^ it's this shit. this man has negative self-preservation and consistently puts his friends' lives before his own. my sonnn I love him I want to shake him like a dog with a toy

Jade - Good Old Days by Macklemore (ft Kesha)

She can actually remember her life from before (which is a wild concept and I wish younger me had explored that a bit more when I started writing). She heads up the base training of new Warlocks in the Tower

Fyr - Living Legend by Club Danger

He's the most upbeat and easygoing of my Destiny OCs and the song choice is partially influenced by the similarity between "fire" and "Fyr" (he named his Ghost Spark as a pun so)

Kaedro-22 - Walk by Saint Chaos (ft. Sam Tinnesz)

Kaedro is one of my older Guardians. He ran with Cayde's crew back in the early days and is something of an older brother figure to the younger Guardians in the clan

Bazzle - Meet Me on the Battlefield by SVRCINA

Bazzle is another of the older Guardians. He helped build the walls and after the Red War, he was promoted to become one of Zavala's Deputy Commanders and lead Guardian training in the Tower

Rae - Natural by Imagine Dragons

Rae never actually died to become a Guardian (that's right Bungie, I'm taking Shin Malphur's pre-retcon lore and running). She was one of the Awoken aboard the Yang Liwei, technically making her the oldest of my Guardians. She's got that hater mindset (affectionate)

Rogue - Can't Stop Me Now by Oh The Larceny

This man throws hands first and asks questions later. Token Crucible main /j. He's another older Guardian from the Dark Age. Don't fuck with his clanmates bc he'll Get you

Liv - My Silver Lining by First Aid Kit

She's a bit on the younger side of the older Guardians as she wasn't revived until the City Age. Her philosophy is to have a good time even in the middle of saving the solar system

Kai - Rebirth by Miracle of Sound

Kai is a Sunbreaker from the time when Titans using Solar wasn't mainstream. She lost her original fireteam in the Great Disaster and has since become fiercely protective of her new fireteam and clan, even though she doesn't really show it in traditional ways

Tristan - I'll Go by Direct & Park Avenue

He's probably the quietest of my OCs personality-wise. His Ghost chooses to communicate through their bond via feelings rather than explicit communication

Jesse - Nothing to Remember by Neko Case

Jesse's my newest Guardian OC. They were rezzed after getting murdered in the Last City. After finding out how the whole Guardian thing works, they decide to say fuck you to the class system and go multiclass

Kyler - Fantasy by Aviators

Kyler isn't a Guardian but a former citizen of the Last City that has since relocated to the Tangled Shore. He was dating Harley at one point but was also mixed up with a bad crowd (organized crime involvement) which eventually brought their relationship to a rather catastrophic end

[seat-safety-switch]

Skullduggery is afoot! Those scoundrels in capital have, once again, scammed me out of a couple bucks on a transaction. Sure, they call it a “service fee,” but the only service involved was lining their pockets. Never mind. Those parcel-delivery poltroons will put my ten dollars to good use rebuilding their warehouse once I set it on fire with a ridiculous burnout in one of their delivery vans.

Here’s a little bit of a grand larceny pro-tip. You see those cameras up there? Yeah, you don’t want them to see you. The best way to do that is to wear a mask, so no one can identify you later. That’s why I’m wearing this hideous, vacuum-formed replica of Lee Iacocca’s face while I cut through this fence. I didn’t bring one for you, though. Maybe splash some of that airport runway mud on your cheeks, I’m sure there’s nothing bad in there.

Okay, here we go. We’re gonna hop in that body-on-frame Ford Transit and we’re gonna lay down a burnout for the ages. Well, I am. See, the key to starting a really good fire is that you’ve gotta use the belts. The rubber? Just makes smoke. Once you get through the outer carcass and start sparking those steel belts on the pavement, that’s where the good shit comes from. And then you gotta be ready. Ready for what, you ask?

Well, once the building catches on fire, it’s a good idea to get the fuck out of here. One of the real catch-22s of this whole thing is that, because the van is now currently engulfed in flames, we can’t exactly use it to flee the burning warehouse that we are trapped in. So we’re gonna have to leg it. Hope you’ve been doing your ten thousand steps a day, buddy!

Phew. That was a bit of a workout, but we got away clean. It was all worth it, though, to get revenge on the anonymous moneymen who dared to reach into my wallet and extract ten dollars for the privilege of me paying them to deliver a new fire suppression system. Who did you say you worked for again, the New York Times? Never heard of it. They got a car section?

[mischiefmanifold]

Explanation of the Diagnostic Criteria of Conduct Disorder (CD)

In order to be diagnosed with conduct disorder, one must meet at least three of the following fifteen criteria in the past 12 months, with at least one criterion met in the past 6 months. Symptoms must be repetitive or consistent and clinically significant. If one is 18 years or older, they may only be diagnosed with conduct disorder if they do not meet the criteria for antisocial personality disorder.

AGGRESSION TO PEOPLE AND ANIMALS

1. Often bullies, threatens, or intimidates others.

This includes bullying on social media (cyberbullying).

2. Often initiates physical fights.

May be extremely eager to physically fight others.

Getting into frequent fights may also affect their friendships, especially if they end up getting into fights with their friends.

3. Has used a weapon that can cause serious physical harm to others (e.g., a bat, brick, broken bottle, knife, gun).

"Used a weapon" is a vague statement, but a good assumption to make is that it counts if you used the object against another person (e.g., throwing a brick at them).

4. Has been physically cruel to people.

May push, hit, or bite others (especially earlier in life).

Physical cruelty may be disguised as "teasing" (e.g., hair pulling, poking/jabbing, yanking, "roughhousing").

5. Has been physically cruel to animals.

Methods include shooting, animal fighting, torture, beating, throwing them around, burning them, stabbing them, kicking them, dragging them, malnourishment, poking/jabbing hard, excessive teasing, etc.

6. Has stolen while confronting someone (e.g., mugging, purse snatching, extortion, armed robbery).

This means you're stealing things from a person directly.

Another example is pickpocketing (a form of larceny [theft of personal property] that involves the stealing of money or other valuables from a victim's pocket without them noticing).

Mugging is the act of attacking and robbing someone in a public or semi-public place (commonly alleyways, at least on TV shows).

Extortion is when one obtains something, especially money, through force or threats.

Armed robbery is the act of stealing from someone by using a weapon.

7. Has forced someone into sexual activity.

Pretty self-explanatory; if it confuses anyone or you want more detail feel free to DM me.

DESTRUCTION OF PROPERTY

8. Has deliberately engaged in fire-setting with the intention of causing serious damage.

May have an unusual fascination with fire.

Others may find burn holes in carpets, beds, or furniture.

May pocket fire-starting materials (e.g., matches, lighters) and keep them hidden.

May light candles, fireworks, and other things, despite being told not to.

9. Has deliberately destroyed others' property (other than by fire-setting).

This is also called "vandalism."

Examples include smashing car windows, egging cars or houses, keying cars, slashing tires, defacing park benches, altering or knocking down street signs, and kicking and damaging someone's property with your hands or feet.

DECEITFULNESS OR THEFT

10. Has broken into someone else's house, building, or car.

Some professionals may count exploring abandoned buildings in this criterion, especially if you did not receive permission before exploring and the site was private.

Breaking into lockers and other school areas logically seem to be the most likely course of action for a younger child.

Other places include homes, storage units, and stores/pharmacies.

11. Often lies to obtain goods or favors or to avoid obligations (i.e., "cons" others).

White lies (to spare someone's feelings or avoid their wrath): pretending they can't find a sweater their friend wants to borrow because they don't want the friend to have it; expressing excitement about an achievement of someone else's but at the same time angry/upset that you didn't get it; telling their friend they forgot their lunch so the friend will share with them.

More harmful lies (intended to be malicious, to deceive, or to get something to which one is not entitled): stealing a friend's iPad and then telling the friend they don't know where it is; refusing to admit that they shoplifted and instead blaming someone else; taking credit for other people's work.

12. Has stolen items of nontrivial value without confronting a victim (e.g., shoplifting, but without breaking and entering; forgery).

"Without confronting a victim" refers to the idea that this criterion is talking about theft that does not include a single victim and perpetrator; instead, the perpetrator is stealing from stores or forging signatures (I think identity theft goes here, too).

Shoplifting is classified as a misdemeanor in the United States until the perpetrator reaches a certain price value of the goods they have stolen, when it becomes a felony (e.g., in Texas, shoplifting becomes a felony when the value of all of the stolen property amounts to $2,500 or more).

SERIOUS VIOLATIONS OF RULES

13. Often stays out at night despite parental prohibitions, beginning before age 13 years.

Kind of self-explanatory, if requested I can elaborate

14. Has run away from home overnight at least twice while living in the parental or parental surrogate home, or once without returning for a lengthy period.

Most runaways are not gone for more than 48 hours to a week, but based on this criterion I would say that being gone longer than a day or so counts as a lengthy period

15. Is often truant from school, beginning before age 13 years.

Truancy laws depend on the area you live in. For example, in Minnesota, you're considered truant if you have three or more full or partial school absences that are unexcused. In Texas, if you are absent without excuse for 10+ days or partial days in a 6-month period in the same school year, you're considered truant.

SOURCES

https://www.surgeactivism.org/articles/torture-by-teasing-animal-videos-are-racking-up-millions-of-views-on-social-media

https://www.hopkinsallchildrens.org/Patients-Families/Health-Library/HealthDocNew/Firesetting

https://www.findlaw.com/criminal/criminal-charges/vandalism.html

https://examples.yourdictionary.com/examples-of-lying.html

https://www.simsfirm.com/blog/2015/march/will-i-go-to-jail-for-shoplifting-in-texas-/

https://safesupportivelearning.ed.gov/discipline-compendium?state=Texas&sub_category=Chronic%20Absenteeism%20and%20Truancy

https://www.crowwing.gov/1647/Truancy

https://www.lovetoknow.com/parenting/teens/teenage-runaways

[open-hangar]

Prison Force Chagger Ep. 3

GENEVA LBZ/IF INMATE RECORDS

Name: Wolfgang Baumer

Place of Origin: Nordschwarzwald region, Western Europe

Birth date: Unknown

Height and Weight: ~155 cm, ~90kg

Criminal Record: Harboring a Fugitive, multiple counts of Grand Theft Auto, Grand Larceny, Money Laundering, Voluntary Manslaughter

Etc: Prisoner records are not to be destroyed by the order of the Wardens. Who we are and what we’ve done are not a secret, but also do not define us.

“Could you hand me the CH.Welder?”

I looked down at the hairy hand reaching out from underneath the truck with a bit of confusion, and then to the wide array of tools laid out on a greasy towel on the ground.

“Uh, yeah, sure… The CH.Welder… It’s…”

“About 25 centimeter long curved pipe with the cylinder on the bottom. Covered in a novel’s worth of warning labels.”

Ah. Of course. What else could it have been? I lean over and pick up the-

“Nah, the other one. Easy mistake to make.”

“...Right.”

Last week I was moved into a cell in the main holding building. It’s not really as bad as it sounds, since they had all of the bars removed and placed with a normal wall and a door that locked from the inside. It’s honestly way better than the shack I used to live in on the outskirts of the Solna LBZ, at least this place keeps heat reasonably well. Doc even recommended that I talk to some guys who love to build cottages, but I felt weird asking for favors already. After all, they’ve already got me working with Wolfgang because I apparently know which way to turn a socket wrench.

As I hand the device, I look down under the truck at my… manager? Co-worker? I still haven’t figured out how exactly this was supposed to work. He’s flat on his back, most of his face covered in a heavy-duty chargon mask, in case a gasket pops and he gets a face full of green and purple gas, but his giant salt-and-pepper beard sticks out from the bottom.

“Hey, should I be wearing one of those masks?”

“Nah, you’re probably fine. Just stay out of the way in case something pops.”

Cool. Glad to be useful.

As the short, wide Warden tinkers on the chargon drive of the truck, I absent-mindedly wander around the space. It’s not super clear if this massive garage existed before the revolution, because it’s clearly designed to service a giant complex with a fleet of vehicles, but for whatever reason, the only truck here was the one being worked on. There were also only a small handful of car lifts. What, exactly, was the point of this place?

I figure I might as well make my question known out loud in a way that Wolfgang might hear it. It takes long enough for him to answer that I almost repeat the question.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Don’t worry about it? I mean, if this is my new job, it seems like something I should worry about. Where are all the other trucks?

“I’m telling you not to worry about it because you don’t need to worry about it.”

For a second, I worry to myself that the Warden had already figured out my game. Grab a truck while he’s not looking, and hoof it to the wall surrounding this place to get the hell out. Don’t ask me how I’m planning on getting past the wall since I didn’t see any gates, I’ve always been good at thinking on my feet. Usually.

The Warden slides out from under the truck, the wheels on his sliding board making clanking sounds on the seams of the concrete.

“We have trucks. Lots of ‘em. But the thing about tools is that people like to use them, because that’s what they’re for. And if they want to keep using them, that’s fine too. There’s vehicles that have been borrowed for years, and I honestly don’t even know what happened to the guys who borrowed them. And if they need repairing, then they’ll wind up back here.”

It’s obvious that I’ve been on the outside for too long.

“Yeah. But you’ll figure it out. Just forget about stuff like pers-”

A loud klaxon suddenly starts blaring, the sound echoing off of the distant walls of the garage’s massive interior. What the hell…? Wolfgang clambers up to his impressive 1 and a half meters and speedily trundles over to a nearby intercom.

“What’s the emergency?”

He listens intensely, his face grimacing with each passing word from the other speaker. He looks around awkwardly, and makes quick eye contact with me.

“Okay, look, I got the newblood here. Fine, yeah. I’ll be out in a jiff.” He smashes a button on the intercom to end communication, and turns to walk towards me.

“Stand back, you’re about to get a hell of a show.” He then places his calloused hand on my arm, and points towards a door near the bathrooms that says Managers only.

“Take that elevator and head to the top floor, and mind the ‘old person’ smell. Whatever you do, don’t leave. I promise it’s the safest place on the continent right now.”

I’m clearly puzzled as the ground begins to rumble, and the center of the floor begins to slide open like a concrete grocery store front door. On a rising platform sits… a jet? But instead of being a sleek machine designed to dogfight, it’s built like a bulbous insectoid semi truck with wings and a massive translucent chargon battery for an abdomen. I’ve never seen a battery that big, and Wolfgang marches straight towards it. There’s no way in hell he’s actually going to get IN that thing, is he?!”

“Elevator! Now!”

My legs instinctively, obediently carry me towards the doorway opposite the room as the Warden climbs into the machine, and the strange device emits the telltale green and purple of a chargon engine’s exhaust. Crap, crapcrapcrap gotta get out of this room immediately! I slam the “up” button on the inside of the elevator, and watch the insectoid apparatus slowly take off from its launch bay. A woman’s voice comes over the elevator’s speakers, and speaks with a calm voice.

“Top floor: Dr. Ishikawa’s office.”

Art by @menacing-marshmallow