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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Why they must touch everything?

Captain’s log: Day 44 of 854. 

       We have arrived to planet Chantel 4. We are here to explore and study the wildlife. We left the main ship for its paint job, name change, and any other maintenance needed at port and used the exploration unit to get to our destination. Upon review of the ship before leaving, we noticed the AI seems to be acting differently. We believe the Humans may have been altering it as we have noted the engineering crew calling it a “pretty lady” and promising that they will get special oils for her when we reach port. Along with that the rest of the human crew has been petting the ship much like they pet Tiny and also calling it a “good girl” and thanking it for doing its simple programming. We don’t understand how they believe that a ship has a gender or needs special oils or petting. We have also noticed that since this has started the AI has been acting differently. We can’t quite explain what it is yet. It just seems that the Doors and dispensers react differently to different people. We are hoping the inspection finds and fixes whatever bug there is before we finish our exploration. 

Puppies and Patriots

Requested

*Steve Rogers-centric

________________________________________________________________

“You are just so cute and fluffy, yes you are!”

The Husky in your arms yipped slightly and licked your nose, causing you to giggle. You’d found the poor little guy in a shelter not too far from STARK Tower. Something about his brilliant blue eyes just called out to you and now the two of you were riding the elevator up to your apartment.

The door opened and you stepped out, nearly running into Tony. “What the hell is that?”

“It’s a dog, sir,” JARVIS said.

“That’s enough, JARVIS. Don’t make me unplug you.”

“You cannot do that, sir. I have no plug.”

“You know what I meant.” Tony turned back to you. “Why do you have a dog in your arms?”

“Because I just adopted him!”

“Why?”

“How could I say ‘no’ to this cute little face?” You held the dog towards Tony; the pup squirmed and yipped, wanting to get to the new person and lick as much of him as he could.

The corner of Tony’s mouth lifted. Giving in, he reached out and scratched the puppy behind its ear. “I didn’t realize you and Steve were in the market for a pet.”

“Well….”

“Holy shit. Captain doesn’t know, does he?”

“We… haven’t exactly talked about it… but I’m sure he’ll love this little guy.”

“Well, I’ll be sure to bring the dog to your funeral.”

________________________________________________________________

You managed to work a deal with Tony and keep the puppy in a spare room down the hall from yours. Tony, thankfully, kept his mouth shut about the dog whenever Steve was around (in return for unlimited snuggles and kisses from the puppy).

But all good things must come to an end.

Steve was walking down the hall, minding his own business when he heard your voice coming from what he thought was a spare room. He couldn’t hear your words clearly, but your voice was raised in pitch and you were laughing.

And was that… growling?

Steve opened the door, ready to face the worst—you cheating on him. But what he found was…

“What’s going on in here?”

You turned, eyes wide in surprise. A small Husky bounded around you, a rubber ball in its mouth. It wriggled its way into your lap, unsatisfied with the lack of attention you were giving it.

“Whose dog is that?”

“Um… it’s ours?”

“What?”

You stood, the puppy running around your feet. “I, uh… kind of… adopted him.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s cute and fluffy and gives me kisses when you’re gone.”

Steve’s brow creased slightly. “What?”

You shook your head. “I don’t know. I just… it gets lonely when you’re off on your missions.”

“Sweetheart, I had no idea–”

“It’s okay. Really. I know you’re off doing important things, but… the bed feels awfully empty when you’re gone.”

Steve smiled sadly at you before looking down at the puppy. It had taken a seat next to you, looking expectantly up at Steve. Its tongue slipped out of its mouth as it panted, crystalline blue eyes staring up at the First Avenger. “What’s its name?”

“Sarge.”

Steve looked up at you. “What?”

“Short for ‘Sergeant’.”

“Did you name him that to try and win me over?”

“…Maybe.”

“Uh-huh.”

You bent down and picked the puppy up, holding him out to Steve. “Isn’t he cute?”

The puppy leaned forward, licking the tip of Steve’s nose. Steve tried to scowl down at him, but a few more vigorous licks pulled a smile from him.

“Can we keep him?”

“Of course,” Steve said. “I think it’s a good idea for you to have someone here when I’m gone. And this little guy will grow into a big, strong canine that can protect you.”

You bounced up and pressed a kiss on Steve’s cheek. “Not to mention, it’d be completely heartless to return him to the shelter.”

“Right.”

You stepped into the hall. “So, he’s gonna sleep in our bed now, okay?”

“Wait, what?”

MCL Hogwarts Tag

Rules: This is for your Candy. Fill with what your Candy could answer. If you have more than one candy or a genderbent, you can do this for them too.

I was tagged by the lovely @loonylein​ ! Thank you and get well soon ^^.

And since number seven has magic properties in the wizarding world, tag at least 7 other blogs: I tag @szlolla, @mcl-the-lovelaces, @minty-bear, @milakuu@vanillaamoursucrethings, @sinto-hell and @ne-neptune  !

Say “Hi!”:  Hi ! My name is Joy Green !

What house did you get sorted into: I’m a Gryffindor !

Are you a muggleborn, an half-blood or a pureblood:  My parents are both wizards so i’m a pureblood.

Of which elements your wand is made:

Elm wood, Dragon heartstrings core, 14 ½" in length , Solid flexibility.

Elm 

The unfounded belief that only pure-bloods can produce magic from elm wands was undoubtedly started by some elm wand owner seeking to prove his own blood credentials, for I have known perfect matches of elm wands who are Muggle-borns. The truth is that elm wands prefer owners with presence, magical dexterity and a certain native dignity. Of all wand woods, elm, in my experience, produces the fewest accidents, the least foolish errors, and the most elegant charms and spells; these are sophisticated wands, capable of highly advanced magic in the right hands (which, again, makes it highly desirable to those who espouse the pure-blood philosophy).

Dragon

As a rule, dragon heartstrings produce wands with the most power, and which are capable of the most flamboyant spells. Dragon wands tend to learn more quickly than other types. While they can change allegiance if won from their original master, they always bond strongly with the current owner. The dragon wand tends to be easiest to turn to the Dark Arts, though it will not incline that way of its own accord. It is also the most prone of the three cores to accidents, being somewhat temperamental.

What pet do you have (owl, cat, toad): I have my fluffy white persian.

What is your favourite class: I’m pretty good with Charms, i just love to learn new spells. And I also love Care of Magical Creatures because I find them fascinating.

What is your patronous: A St Bernard Dog.  

You are in any extra curricular activites (quidditch, dueling club, herbology club, potions club, gobstones club, chess club, Lumaclub…): I’m in the Charms Club.

Your are or will be a prefect/headgirl/captain of the quidditch team/ecc: I don’t know.

Do you have any special ability (parseltongue, divination ability…): My grandfather is a Legilimency, unfortunately we can’t lie to him ahah. I’m not 18 yet but he plans to teach me…

You are a troublemaker, the first of your class, both, the one who blows things: I’m not the first of my class but i think i’m a good student. 

Do you often get detention: Nope. Sometimes, we travel a bit by night in the school with some friends but we have never been caught. I’m not a rebel otherwise ahah.

What do you want to do after Hogwarts: My grandfather was an Auror and I have always admired him. Since I’m little, he has told me stories about his adventures so i’m quite interested to become one too :). But working with magical creatures would not displease me either.

Would you participate in the Triwizard Tournament (without Voldemort and Harry Potter of course): No, i’m sure will follow the tournament and cheer Hogwart’s participant and just hope that no one dies. But i just think this is stupid to risk our life for a trophy and what ? Recognition ?

Your favourite teacher: I like Professor McGonagall.

Your favourite fantastic beast: I find dragons so majestic and hippogriffs because they’re just sweet creatures inside :). 

Your favourite spell: Expecto Patronum and Stupefix !

What would Amortentia smell for you: a Bouquet of Roses, after raining air and laundry   .

Create an outfit with the color of your house:

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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