it's good to be the captain's pet

So about those space orcs...

I’ve seen a lot of posts about humans pack-bonding with frankly everything, no matter how big, scary, threatening, lethal or oozy.

But you know what I haven’t seen?

Humans entrusting their young to their pack-bonded friends. Because that’s a thing we do. We entrust our children to our friends. We entrust our children to our dogs. We befriend the biggest, meanest, scariest shit, and then we dump our defenseless, hasn’t-even-got-a-fully-fused-skull-yet offspring on them. Half for shits-and-giggles, half because it’s cute, mostly because children are exhausting and we need a nanny.

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Kit and I saw Captain underpants last night and it was really good anyway but one thing I really appreciated was that it repeatedly showed boys who aren’t afraid to make physical contact with each other the same way little girls who are friends do. They held hands, reached out to each other, at one point George rests his head on Harold’s lap and Harold pets his hair comfortingly. I just really appreciated the message that it’s okay for boys to like… Touch. That not everything has to be no homo no physical contact no emotions. Friendships between boys are allowed to have just as much physical contact as friendships between girls and it was a good message for kids to have.

Quotes from ENTJ Characters

INTJ | ISFJ | ENTP | ISTJ | ENFP | ISTP | ESTJ | INTP | ESFPINFJ | ESFJ | ISFP | ESTP | ENFJ | INFP

You think we’re intellectual equals? It only took me seconds to get you off your guard! And this body you designed is self-congratulatory garbage. See, I know a thing or two about building a body out of bio-mass, and you don’t leave your heart exposed.
Princess Bubblegum, Adventure Time

You’re being a coward. You are so afraid of ruffling powerful feathers that you’re doing what you always do: Burying an ugly truth and hoping that someone will pin a medal on you.
Peggy Carter, Agent Carter

[after winning a game of beach volleyball/“Kuai Ball”] Yes! We defeated you for all time! You will never rise from the ashes of your shame and humiliation! [pause] Well, that was fun.
Azula, Avatar: The Last Airbender

Soon I’ll have people who do my sleeping for me!
Louise Belcher, Bob’s Burgers

I am not a committee!
Princess Leia, Star Wars

You’re good. But I’m Crowley.
Crowley, Supernatural

Tell me now, if you dare, that I do not deserve to be King of Wessex.
King Ecbert, Vikings

Sometimes looking for extreme possibilities makes you blind to the probable explanation right in front of you.
Dana Scully, The X-Files

And its captain is to sail it as COMMANDED! I thought you would have learned that, after I ordered you to kill your pet. This is no longer your world, Jones. The immaterial has become… immaterial.
Lord Cutler Beckett, Pirates of the Caribbean

Children should walk before they run.
Evelyn Poole, Penny Dreadful

Oh right. The conscience thing.
Regina Mills, Once Upon a Time

I’d like to spend my vacation… (strikes dramatic pose) …AT THE LIBRARY!
Sokka, Avatar: The Last Airbender

She did. She died for who she was and who she loved. She fell where she stood. It was sad. And it was beautiful. And it is over. We have no right to change who she was.
Me, Doctor Who

His screaming is interrupting my beauty sleep. And do you know what happens when a queen loses her beauty sleep? She could get a wrinkle. And if she gets a wrinkle, she’ll make sure you get a wrinkle… on your neck!… I’m sorry, I’m not being very clear, I’m really tired. What I’m trying to say is if you don’t fix it, I’ll cut your throat. Okay? Nighty-night.
Madalena, Galavant

So many men, they risk so little. They spend their whole lives avoiding danger, and then they die. I’d risk everything to get what I want. (Sansa: What do you want?) Everything.
Peytr Baelish, Game of Thrones

You have a little danger in your eye. I want to know what you plan do with it.
Fish Mooney, Gotham

You’ve got a plan? Okay, first of all, you’re copying me from when I said I had a plan.
Rocket Raccoon, Guardians of the Galaxy

Prayers are for the weak – I’ll stick to beating your ass in court. 
Annalise Keating, How to Get Away with Murder

When the President stands, nobody sits.
President Josiah Bartlet, The West Wing

At the end of the day, I have to accept that I can control everything…except the things I can’t control.
Timothy Drake, DC: New 52

Lemon, what tragedy happened in your life that you insist upon punishing yourself with all this…mediocrity?
Jack Donaghy, 30 Rock

I really don’t like feelings.
Robin Scherbatsky, How I Met Your Mother

I’m not a relaxed person Britta. I think ahead. I prepare. I don’t improvise my life like Caroline Decker, who probably has really bad credit and an unfinished mermaid tattoo.
Annie Edison, Community

Defiance, Part 5

[Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4]

Summary: Katara never thought she’d take shelter from the Water Tribe in the Fire Nation. Zuko never thought he’d build a life with someone he is only supposed to be seeing for fun. And neither one knows just how close their countries are to self-destruction.

[For Zutara month, Day 5, “Distance”] 

It haunted her day after endless day, the scroll that lay dormant in the captain’s cabin, tucked in a trunk with a sturdy brass lock that not even her waterbending could open. When she was guiding their ship to coast along the waves, the thought dragged her down like a lead anchor. When she descended to the depths of the ship for a few hours’ sleep, it shone through her dreams like a beacon.

Knowledge. Knowledge of waterbending, but more than that: knowledge that she wasn’t alone.

The isolation was wearing on her. Despite the close quarters that she shared with the crew and her natural cheerfulness, Katara was lonely. She didn’t understand how a group could sail together as a single unit one moment, when their lives depended on it, and the next descend into squabbling and petty theft of their bunkmates’ treasures. Her tribesmen moved as part of the ship when they took to sea; or maybe it was the ship that learned to move like them. Every so often, Katara ran her hands along the tightly caulked planks, wringing the damp out to prevent worm infestation, but it still didn’t feel any more like home.

Conversation and quarrels drifted past her like smoke, occasionally spiraling around her but never filling her with a sense of belonging. She hadn’t fit in exactly, in the South, but it didn’t matter. She was one of their own, always. If she were injured out on the ice, she was confident that even proud Hahn would risk his safety to help her out. And for all of Sokka’s teasing, he looked out for her with everything he had. Her father …

…her father had been asleep when Katara had tiptoed past the doorway into the house she, unmarried, still shared with him and Gran-Gran. Anyone else would have woken Hakoda in an instant, but he knew the footsteps of his children by instinct. She had neither the heart to wake him nor the head to convince him she wasn’t saying good-bye.

She kept her mother with her, the stone at her throat cool to the touch, yet comforting. But every time she went to her necklace for solace, another tug of desperate longing lurched her out of her memories’ consoling embrace. 

They had a scroll. A Water Tribe scroll. The instructions of a real master were tattooed on its skin, and she wanted—needed—to see it.

They were two days away from Ember Island and the aristocrats who liked their smuggled “medicines” fresh. Another day would land her at a fishing pier where she could earn a living until she found what she was looking for. But tonight was the full moon. Tonight, she was powerful—felt unstoppable.

And tonight, she would take the scroll from the captain, returning it to Water Tribe hands.

Katara padded silently to the solitary cabin near the stern of the ship, casting a glance upward to make sure the lookout was gazing out to sea and not below. The door to the cabin was locked, but Katara didn’t let that stop her. She’d fed the iguana parrot with a freshly caught fish today, and now it flew over to her, inquisitive.

“Hello there, sweetie,” said Katara, stroking its feathered crest softly. “Who’s a good boy? Who’s the captain’s favorite pet who will get me a foot in the door? Yes, you are. Yes, you are.”

She drew another fish out, one she had kept on ice all day in preparation, and wiggled it in front of the bird.

Squawk! Squawk!

The captain’s door slammed open. “What’s going on here?” he demanded. “Hey, why are you feeding my bird? Get back down below, or I’ll—hey!”

Katara tossed the fish into the air, and as the bird flew away to catch it, she pivoted full circle and drew water from a nearby bucket. The wood beneath the captain’s feet iced over, and even though her water whip missed the mark, he lost his balance and toppled over. A liquid tentacle caught him before he hit the deck, and before he could so much as bark out an order, Katara had muzzled him with a mouthful of snow. Ice manacles sprouted from the frozen puddle and pinned him to the ground; Katara seized the moment and ran inside. She knew she didn’t have time to find the key and open the trunk; it was all she could do to carry it outside under the disapproving stars.

I had to, she insisted to them and the moon. I had to.

A cry from above meant her treachery had been spotted. They’re just pirates, they’ve probably betrayed lots of other people. Katara’s mind kept a running commentary on how her actions were justified as she heaved the trunk overboard, and herself with it.

A ball of water encased her—Master Pakku’s teaching to help her should she be stranded in a broken canoe. There was just enough air in the bubble to take her beneath the ship and toward the metal rudder. A few quick movements, and she froze it in place; not enough to endanger the crew’s lives, but just to stall them during her getaway.

She clutched the trunk tigher and resurfaced for air.

Thunk!

A set of bolos ricocheted off the trunk and knocked the wind out of her. Katara’s head dipped briefly below the ocean, but when she resurfaced, she hefted a clumsy block of ice. It wasn’t a very good shield, but it took the brunt of the arrows and spears cast her way. Another deep breath, and she submerged, this time propelling herself farther away.

It was a long day’s swim for a waterbender to the island, but the waters were warm, and the moon was high.

And oh yes … the watertight trunk could float.

She didn’t need a map to guide her; she had stargazed enough to find the direction she needed to go. And besides, the moon would set in the west; it would be her compass toward freedom.

The cries of the outraged crew faded into the distance, the occasional arrow and net still cast her way, only to be rebuffed by the ice. Her guilt began to sink in as Katara left them behind; pirates or not, they’d all been surviving on the ocean together, and now, it was as if she’d never known them.

***

The Blue Spirit’s smuggler prey was nowhere to be found, just as he had suspected. But the masked man refused to give up there. Unwittingly—or, more likely, as a taunt—Azula had given him a clue in the blue ribbon. Only a few wealthy merchants still carried the fabric, and of those, only two had the connections in the capital necessary to sneak it through. Admiral Zhunan was a crafty hoarder of wealth, and it hadn’t been easy to locate his summer hideaway, but he was the most likely to be the traitor. Several aliases and a dozen security personnel later, and the Blue Spirit had only just made it to the supposed leisure house.

It wasn’t as ostentatious as the one he’d vacationed in as a child; it was set back from the sea in a little cove on the eastern side of the island. The Blue Spirit supposed it was better for clandestine goings-on than for helping children to play by the shoreline.

As he looked out at the beach, swords at the ready, the moonlight glinted off a mound of sand—the remains of a child’s castle from the previous day.

A memory flashed before his eyes: his uncle, eyes alight and smiling, holding him high with his cousin at his back. His father, head turned away, watching Azula. And his mother … his mother …

The faintest audible clack of stone tore him away from the memory. The dual dao were unsheathed, their points so sharp they all but cut the moonlight. Whoever had seen him would not be telling tales to his master.

The only warning he got was a faint gust of air, and he dodged what looked like a hand. Not flesh, though: made of rock. An instant later, another fist flew at his knee; and another at the base of his spine.

His swords came up, their wielder spinning them into a protective whirlwind  as he fended off one attack after the other. He was holding his own; he managed to deflected two of the stone hands back on their owners. 

Earthbenders! Should he use his fire—reveal himself? Was it too much of a—

Whoomp!

The sand shook beneath his feet and sucked him down by the boots. The earthbenders he’d seen couldn’t bend sand very well, but the beach rippled and tossed him about like a spider crab in the grip of an eagle. He’d just managed to leverage his swords to free himself when a riptide of sand pushed inexorably forward, driving him back, back, back toward the ocean. More gloves flew his way, and one caught the side of his head. His ears rang, and he faltered.

As soon as one sword lowered, he was pummeled from all sides. He had made it past the open sand, but had stepped into the waves, and was fighting against the surf while the mud tried to shackle him. If he could just get far enough out—if he could swim and not have to plant his feet—the gloves wouldn’t have the same impact through the water.

Dizzily, he dodged yet another gloved strike, one that caught him in the shoulder and sent him spinning. A wave slapped his face and made him inhale a lungful of water; coughing, half-blind, he sought to keep his guard up.

The cold glare from above pierced the black waters, helping him to know which way was up as he fought for air. But his vision was turning gray and fuzzy; one arm had gone numb; and his attackers were closing in.

Something bumped into his back, and he batted it away. It gave off a hollow sound as his sword made contact.

A trunk? Zuko shook his head to clear it. What was a trunk doing … ? Why was he …? What was moving … something moving in the water …

His head fell through the surface of the water once more, and the only thing he saw was the moonlight.

someday my prince will come...

Colonel Chester Philips had a war to fight and quite frankly, didn’t have a lot of time for nonsense.

That memorable first Christmas that granted Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes a new nickname among the rank and file was, Philips supposed, good for morale.  However, he carefully ignored and made sure to squash anything that would cause an epic clusterfuck with the top brass.  Personally, he was not about to sign no goddamn blue ticket for anyone, because a man’s private business was not his concern, as long as that man can pick up a gun and fight. 

So Philips was perfectly happy getting on with the task of fighting Nazis and Squid Nazis (thank you, Dugan for adding this to the parlance, along with SNRFB).  The one super soldier left to them by Dr. Erskine had proved to be worth all the money the U.S. government had invested into his creation and then some, even if Captain Rogers had a knack for ignoring certain orders, but regularly coming up with impressive results when he chose to do so. 

Philips could live with the paperwork, as long as it meant one step closer to Berlin. 

But then, there was Barnes.

The whole Snow White business was a god damn joke, Philips sternly reminded himself. 

So he tried not to twitch when an actual, for real squirrel went running up to Barnes in the middle of their planning, climbed up to his shoulder and chattered to him importantly.  Barnes nodded, made the appropriate noises back and then, casually mentioned that there was one of those fucking monster HYDRA tanks hiding in the very section of forest they were going to run to. 

“Did the squirrel actually tell you this, Sgt. Barnes?” sneered a lieutenant - God help them, it was that asshole who nearly fucked up everything for Easy Company at Foy.  Philips made a note to find the quickest excuse to boot him somewhere else… soon.  

“Yes, sir,” Barnes deadpanned. 

“We always make it a point to trust the local forest population,” added Captain Rogers innocently.  “They’re not very fond of Hitler or HYDRA.”

Agent Carter pressed her lips together to repress a smile.  “The Forest Resistance forces are very grateful and most helpful.”

“Or…. you know, that would be because it’s a logical place to hide a tank of that size,” Captain Rogers continued - he had been there for the Foy clusterfuck and had met up with the other lieutenant who had picked up the pieces and got Easy Company moving.  He’d recognized this asshole too. 

The squirrel chattered again and Barnes absently stroked its head and gave it a piece of cracker.  “Thanks, buddy.” 

Philips was going to need a good long drink later.  And he’d just gotten a new supply from Captain Nixon too…. 

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