#and his nickname is captain

[faeriecap]

I'm watching a documentary on bugsy Siegel and like imagine an au where jewish plucky brilliant high school drop out Bucky Barnes needs money when his dad succumbs to old wounds from the first war and dies so he joins the mob and quickly rises the ranks when Russian mob boss "the red skull" takes notice of the kid and makes him his right hand man and Steve Rogers the Irish kid from Brooklyn works for like a sort of anti mob that doesn't terrorize but kinda protects the people from extortion and takes out the fat cats and he gets recruited by the government as a mole but after an attempt on his life that costs him his arm all bucky wants is out and he goes off to Hollywood where his friend Howard is and meets Peggy Carter who becomes his moll but then she gets involved with the head of Steve's gang who want at Bucky and she thinks they're gonna kill him so she's really scared and trying to keep them off his scent but turns out they want to get him out and on their side and Steve's mom was his nurse in hospital when he lost his arm and met Steve but neither realized who the other was and hit it off until Bucky escaped so he's been looking for him this whole time especially since he realized who Bucky was and he's the first person to see him as more than what the mob has made him and eventually they get it together and leave New York and la completely behind in a witness protection program where Bucky poses as or actually gets amnesia and this is all in the 30s oh my god

[lxvvie]

Price, when he gets home, craves the intimacy he missed the moment he walked out the door.

You're swept up into his embrace and you return it with equal intensity; he buries his nose in the crook of your neck and it hits him that he's home. His hug is firm. Warm. Loving. It's simply him and he doesn't have to be Captain John Price right now. He can be John, John-John, Jack, Jackie, or any other pet name you always come up with.

He relishes the moment. And then he feels the familiar squeeze of your hands on his ass.

Price lets out a breathy chuckle.

It feels good to be home.

[the-spirit-of-adventure]

Nicknames!!

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Abel watched the boy from the fire.

The Fierce Deity was always full of some surprise or another. He’d grown used to it. But when the mystical being had asked for their help and then just disappeared, only to be replaced by a teenager, Abel had realized that he truly could never fathom just how insane that god was.

Who was this child? Did the deity summon him? Was this some other form of Fierce? The teenager had asked questions that made no sense, was in awful condition… clearly the two were connected, but how was still evading him.

Rusl tried to be kind and helpful. Abel wasn’t going to withhold supplies or help from the boy, but… he didn’t know who he was. He was still trying to figure this out. Should they get him to a local settlement and leave him to be taken care of? No… Fierce had asked them to help. He’d trusted them.

The blonde teenager was ill and weak, spending most of his time sleeping. He’d asked about a sprite (so was he part of Fierce’s mythical friends, then?) before promptly passing out. Rusl hovered worriedly around him, being a mother hen far more than Abel was.

If Fierce asked us to look after him, then he’s trustworthy, he tried to remind himself. It was a natural tendency at this point, to view any stranger as an enemy. His younger age didn’t change that. Abel sighed, trying to ease the tension in his body.

Eventually, the two men decided who would take watch when, and Rusl settled to sleep for half the night. Abel continued to watch the teenager silently, keeping a little bit of broth warm over the fire in case he woke.

When the boy’s blue eyes fluttered open an hour or so later, Abel walked slowly towards him.

The boy spoke first. “Where am I?”

“Hyrule,” Abel answered. The teenager gave him an impressively exasperated look, despite his exhaustion. “Who are you?”

“I’ll answer if you tell me the same thing,” the teenager countered. Abel detected a familiar presence to him, a trained discipline that came with being a soldier. The boy was on edge, but he hid his fear well, despite his weakness.

Abel slowly knelt down to be closer to eye level with him. “I’m a knight of Hyrule… I suspect you are too, child?”

There was no way he was a knight from Abel’s Hyrule, of course. He was far too young to have been trained prior to the Calamity. He must have been from Fierce’s land.

The young one looked him from head to toe, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t look like a knight.”

“You look like a homeless child,” Abel replied dully. “If it weren’t for your age, I’d think you’re one of my land’s soldiers.”

“Hyrule is my land too. My name is Link. You might’ve heard of me.” The teenager said with some weight to his words before he collapsed back into a fit of coughing.

Abel blinked. Blinked again. Link?

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered. The deity had two heroes?! None of this made sense!

“If you’re a traitor, you’re making a p-pitiful attempt at—at—” Link tried to quip, too breathless to really get a full sentence out.

Abel felt his chest burn a little with anger, but he held himself in check. “I am no traitor, boy. You come from a different Hyrule than I.”

Link stared. “Oh goddess, not again.”

Again?!

“What happened to the Fierce Deity?” Link asked. “I was wearing his mask when—”

The boy cut himself off, scrambling to his hands and knees in a frantic search for something, but he could hardly hold his weight, nearly face planting into the earth. Abel caught him, gently easing him back into the bedroll as he tried to process everything he’d just heard.

Again. That meant this Hero in particular was used to traversing different lands. And what mask? What was he talking about? Wearing his mask? Did that summon the deity?

Wait. Was that why the boy was so ill and weary?

Abel’s gaze wandered towards the boy’s clothes, towards the blue scarf he’d been wearing. It was the sash Fierce always wore, though the embellishments were slightly different.

“Fierce has been out companion,” Abel explained quietly, trying to calm both his own racing thoughts and the boy’s. “He told us to take care of you.”

Link tried sitting up again. “But—”

“Lie down, Link.”

“I don’t even know who you are!”

“Abel,” he introduced himself. “I’ve commanded heroes before. Now listen to orders and lie down, soldier.”

Link bit his lip, complying. “I… I g-guess we’re not in my Hyrule, then?”

“No,” Abel confirmed quietly, tucking the boy in. “I’m afraid not. But you’re safe. Now rest.”

Link settled a little under the gentle touch, though his eyes still held worry. “Someone was—there were people attacking me before I…”

“Probably the Yiga,” Abel figured. “We’re hunting them down. Somehow, they’ve gotten the ability to travel to different worlds.”

“Yiga?”

“Traitors to the crown.”

Link’s eyes widened a moment before narrowing ferociously. The fierceness of the gesture was lost when he started coughing again. Abel handed him some water, and he drank slowly but gratefully.

“We’ll sort this out,” Abel assured him, patting his shoulder a little. “Now rest. I’ll keep watch.”

Eventually, Link fell back asleep. Abel resumed his place by the fire, watching him.

He had a lot to figure out.

[spocksgotemotions]

today one of my boys at work (almost 3), dumped a full shovel full of sand into his mouth and then looked at me very stressed out that his mouth was full of sand

[lollytea]

Willow calls Hunter honeybird it's important to me that you consider this

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Free Day Thursday

Splinter Cell au today! Last Splinter Cell was father-son bonding time, so today Jak gets to spend time with his mom

Phobos was a light sleeper even in the best of times. Here in this rebel base, during the second week of her and Damas rotating between Haven and Spargus with their children, even the slightest noise was enough to wake her. She sat up in her cot and let her eyes adjust to the half-light of the Babak settlement's barracks. What had roused her?

She let her eyes roam the long wooden hut, taking stock of each of her fellow Spargans and the members of Brutter's tribe. Leave it to a son of Damas to reforge the alliance between the Babak and the House of Mar by accident. Damas had been insufferable for an entire day when he found out. But Phobos found she couldn't be too irritated at him; the way Jak and his fluffy friend brightened when they heard him bragging about them was enough to make that stupid little smirk bearable. They walked a little taller any time she or Damas complimented them, Phobos had noticed. It was nice to see Jak opening up.

Thoughts of her newfound son drew her gaze to his cot, two beds over. With how restless he'd proven to be, Phobos half expected the cot to be empty. But it wasn't.

Jak sat hunched in the center of the cot with his knees pulled to his chest. Even in the gloom, it was apparent that something wasn't right. The fingers that gripped his knees were tipped with curved, black, talons. His skin had faded from bronze to an almost reflective pearl.

Oh.

Phobos had heard the reports of Jak's "Hunter" shape before, but she had never witnessed it in person. She took in the curved horns rising from his curls, and it struck her that the boy resembled nothing so much as the dragonowls that nested in the cacti in Strider Range. All he was missing were the feathers at this point. Even the flickers of violet sparks dancing across Jak's horns didn't diminish the fact that, in the context of desert life,  the Hunter form was a little endearing.

Rising from her cot, Phobos shook out her tunic and made a show of stretching. From what she'd heard, startling Jak when he was in a battle-shift didn't end well. Stark black eyes zeroed in on her in an instant, tracking her movement. Phobos smiled at him and approached his bed slowly.

"Hey, little owl" she whispered, "What's got you up so late?"

His ears flicked up, then back -- a warning that he did not want to be touched, Phobos guessed. She settled on the very end of the cot and kept her hands where he could see them. Had he had a nightmare? From the things Tess mentioned now and then, Phobos knew the boy had more reasons for nightmares than most people twice his age. They may have been just acquaintances so far, but it rankled to know a young boy had suffered so horribly with no one to stand up for him.

"Are you alright, owlet?" Phobos frowned gently and tilted her head. "Has something disturbed you?"

Surprise softened Jak’s face. He cocked his head and mirrored Phobos's frown.

"You're not afraid?" asked clawed hands.

Phobos clicked her tongue, almost scoldingly.

"Why should I be? I am as dangerous as you are, owlet. And neither of us are as dangerous as the sea."

Jak furrowed his brow and drew his knees in closer.

"...doesn't feel good," he finally admitted. "Too much dark eco, can't let it out right now."

"Ah." Phobos sighed and shifted a little closer. "You're oversaturated? Yeah? I saw that happen to your father once when an ammunition crate broke."

It was getting easier to call Damas this boy's father. Easier to think of Jak as her own.

"It was a different kind of eco, sure, but it looked like it sucked either way."

If he had been Mar -- a strange statement, considering he had been Mar in another world, another life -- Phobos would have rubbed his back and hummed him to sleep again. But Mar was a toddler, still dependent on his adults for comfort. And Jak was just a few years shy of being old enough for the Arena trials! Most teenagers his age found such coddling embarrassing; Phobos could admit that she had been one such teenager once upon a time, cringing at her own mother's public affection.

But would Jak be the same?

He was so much older than their Mar, and yet sometimes she could see her little boy peering out from behind those bright eyes. He was starved for affection, but conditioned to distrust most touch. Unbearably lonely, but afraid of rejection.

Phobos bit her lip, then held out her hand. "Come on, Jak. Let's go outside. We'll get that eco spent so you can go back to sleep, alright?"

Jak winced and looked up. Fangs dug into his lip as he frowned.

"Can't. Might need it for battle."

"There will be more eco in battle," Phobos said. She stood and kept her hand extended.

"Come on, baby. I got you. I'll watch your back, okay?"

It took another five seconds of gentle cajoling before Jak uncurled himself and slid off the cot. He didn't take her hand -- he usually didn't -- but when Phobos looked back, he had the end of her sash in one hand, twisting it around his claws like he was afraid he'd get lost if he let go. He let himself be shepherded along the catwalks connecting the Babak village to the mine shafts. The humming of the elevator seemed to vibrate in his bones, through his horns, unbearably loud.

It was better to wake up in the stifling heat of the caverns, better to be surrounded by snoring, than to find himself in the harsh cold of the Baron’s laboratories. Better to be soaked with sweat on a creaky cot than to shiver while listening to the screams of other test subjects. But even here, even from the grave, Errol still held sway over his nightmares. That was what had gathered the eco into battle-readiness in his body, looking for threats that did not exist. Jak was a haunted man.

The cool night air washed over them both, and Jak shivered. It ended in a sneeze, and the woman beside him smiled softly.

She nodded to the cliffs above the cave network.

"Sig said he saw you scale a building in this shape, fast as a lizard. I bet you're even faster with real handholds."

She stepped back and squinted as if searching for something.

"I'll bet," she said slowly, "I'll bet you there's a couple hotfoot lizards up there, actually. You can eat those, you know. They don't taste that great, but they help your body regulate heat better for a while."

She shrugged.

"Why don't you see if you can catch a few, and I'll show you how to cook them in the morning."

Jak's sharklike eyes studied the cliffs, absorbing even the smallest pinprick of light. He grinned slowly.

"Eat them raw?"

Phobos made a face. "Blegh! You can, but you might regret it later."

"I might not."

"Oy!" Phobos shook her head and laughed quietly. "You sound like Damas when he was young!"

She wasn't sure if the subsequent darker hue of the boy's skin was a blush, or if the observation had made him lose a little dark eco.

Jak bent his knees slightly, and then with a rush of air he leaped; suddenly airborne, six feet directly up. One hand caught the face of the cliff, and soon he was scaling up the rocks at a dizzying rate. Despite herself, Phobos felt her jaw drop. She had never seen anyone but a Lurker make a jump like that unaided! Would Mar be able to do that one day? Or was this an ability only Jak had, learned from the Dark Oracle that favored him?

"Look at you!" She laughed in astonishment and clapped a hand to her forehead. "I oughta put you on the rigging in my fishing boat!"

Jak reappeared after a noisy minute or two with dark spots on one cheek that looked suspiciously like blood.

"Found the lizards," he signed down to her.

Phobos raised an eyebrow. "Did you eat them?"

"No....yes. One." Then he reached back and almost sheepishly raised the battered carcass of a Glub.

"Ohhhh." Phobos squinted up through the darkness. "You want any help up there? Or do you just want to hunt until the eco runs out?"

She knew the answer before Jak had even set the Glub down to sign again.

The moment she'd said "hunt", his eyes had narrowed and his ears flicked up.

Dark eco wasn't just the element of the ocean. It was the element of the hunter, the carnivore, and the tempest. The chase was in its very nature, and right now that nature was rushing through Jak's veins at breakneck speed.

Jak bared his fangs in what was either a show of aggression to Glubs, or a very unsettling smile. Then he dropped out of sight, and Phobos guessed that he was probably shimmying along the ground to look for lizards.

He would probably be up there for a little while. Phobos strolled along the small strip of beach, looking for palm fronds to weave into a basket. She somewhat doubted that Jak would remember to actually bring her any lizards, but she liked working with her hands nonetheless. Without really thinking about it, she hummed quietly, keeping a rhythm with her hands. It was a lively tune, a folk song so old that no one in Spargus really remembered where it had come from. In the language of the people who had once lived in the ruined coastal settlements, the lyrics were something to do with a wily cacomiztli asking a cockatoo to a Fiesta with her. She praised the bird's plumage and grace, and he, flattered, agreed to go. Naturally, the song ended with the cacomiztli having a very nice party meal.

A bit morbid, perhaps, but it had a fine, rollicking melody, and easy to remember rhymes -- even for those who couldn't speak the Coastwatcher dialect. And it reminded children not to trust a flatterer.

A shuffling of feet on the sand paused Phobos's humming, and she glanced up. Jak crouched less than two feet from her, watching with a bemused expression. How was he so quiet?!

His horns had receded considerably, now no more than little nubs poking out of his curls. He'd gotten some color back, too.

"Oye, owlet, did you bring me any lizards?" Phobos asked.

Sheepishly, he held up two lizard tails. Evidently, he had forgotten that the creatures could detach their tails and flee. By the mess on his hands, Phobos guessed he'd spent more time hunting Glubs. She laughed and patted the sand next to her.

"Better luck next time, eh? Here- go get yourself a frond. We're making baskets until you're ready to go back to sleep."

The dark eco continued to fade as Jak struggled to weave with claws. What little hadn't been expended on the small carnivores up the cliff was rapidly being reabsorbed into his bloodstream. When the dark form dropped entirely, Phobos almost didn't notice at first. Jak was as quiet as before, sitting still and watching her weave. She continued to hum until a raspy voice interrupted her.

"Did...Dax...teach you...that?"

Phobos glanced up and noticed Jak wince and massage his throat. She clicked her tongue sympathetically.

"Regretting eating that lizard raw, huh? Too bad we didn't bring our canteens so you could wash that taste out."

"It...was bad." Jak made a face.

With a chuckle, Phobos scooted closer. "Alright owlet, let me see what you've got."

She looked at the sad, lopsided basket, and took hold of Jak's hands to guide him.

"Here: over, under. Over, under. Do that all the way around until you have an alternating pattern on each stem."

Jak furrowed his brows and did his best to follow her movements.

"You didn't answer my question," he croaked.

Ugh. That taste was going to sit in his throat for hours.

"Which one, baby?" Phobos asked, reaching over to flick a coil of hair out of his face.

Baby.

Nobody had ever called him baby before. Well, not sincerely, anyway. Jinx and his guys did sometimes, but they called everyone nicknames like that, because they were weird.

They didn't have the same warmth in their voices, and they definitely didn't apply affectionate nicknames to his dark form!

"The song. Daxter's favorite when we were little. Did he teach you?"

Phobos leaned back. "It's been around that long? Huh! Didn't think the Coastwatcher people went as far as Dead Town."

Jak shrugged. "Daxter's not from Sandover either. He showed up in a boat a year before I did. Said a hurricane washed his village away and he was trapped in the boat."

Jak paused as something occurred to him.

"Wait. How far is your island from Misty Island?"

"Misty Island?"

"Where everyone says the Nest is," Jak clarified.

With how much dark eco had been there when he was a kid, he wasn't surprised that the metalheads had chosen Misty Island to nest.

"About two days on a propeller boat," Phobos said, rubbing her chin, "Closer to two hours by air."

The math lined up surprisingly well, and Jak began to wonder if perhaps his best friend had his origins on the same island he had allegedly been born on. One more thing tying them together; Daxter would be so excited!

"You telling me your buddy in the Titan Suit is a Coastwatcher?" Phobos asked with interest.

"Um...maybe? Have to ask."

Phobos whistled low. "When we go home, we'll have to keep the monks from snatching him. They're obsessed with history and archeological discovery. You tell them a Coastwatcher ancestor is still living and they'll lose their minds."

Jak laughed, almost silently. "He'd probably like that, though. It's rough being the last survivor."

Phobos wrapped an arm around his shoulders and, distracted as he was, Jak simply leaned into her. Phobos stilled, unwilling to jeopardize this moment. She smiled and set her basket aside to brush a hand over her son's hair.

"Well. Neither of you are alone now," she murmured. "And I can promise you, we're not going anywhere."

Was it her imagination, or did Jak lean into her side a little further?

They sat quietly for a moment, watching the waves roll in and out. Then, barely audible over the hiss of the surf, Jak whispered,

"Good."

[somedaytakethetime]

The best of this cursed year of 2023? 🤔

Big Daddy of course 😌😌

[merrysithmas]

playing chess in his mind while sitting at a bar across the room drinking is actually peak jim kirk honestly

[big-city-times]

INSTANTLY ADORED @/CARTOONQTPIE 'S IDEA ABOUT DAVE HIRING TANGENT OUGH

x / x

[disturbnot]

i simply can't be blamed for drawing ash so darn hansum when it's 100% canon that delia could have easily made a killing as a model had she not inherited pallet house from her mother and been cursed with this ash-shaped gremlin of a child. it's just a shame he only inherited her looks and none of her natural charm, grace, and charisma. i hope nobody pursues ash in the false hope he has some game, bc his ND ass does not. he does, however, want to know who your favourite star trek captain is—

[cowboyhorsegirl]

you cannot tell me there wasn’t a moment at the funeral when Pepper told Morgan to go get Steve from where he’s still standing at the dock watching Tony’s heart sink into the lake so they can all listen to Tony’s last message together, and Morgan only calls Steve “Cap” when she talks to him and he doesn’t realize until that night that the reason she does that is bc she learned it from Tony

[feuer-bluete]

Now that we all know who your favorite Marvel character is, time for the next one.

[tinyferalbeing]

~ new smol ship on my blog ~

I'm gonna be drawing for my sister one of her oldest and dearest ship ♡ and this is for all the people who miss these two and deserve cute fan art (⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠´⁠꒳⁠`⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠)

[buraiikan]

    ❝ HEEYYY JIMBO! JIM-JAM!! JIMMY! JIMBLIES!! ❞ he is hanging off jimbei's back and YELLING, trying very hard to get the fishman's attention for something — that or luffy simply wants to hear his own voice and rattle off the list of random nicknames.

He so lucky that Jimbei likes this kid && promised Ace to look after him. He can already feel the other tugging on the fabric he wore back to keep clinging on.

"You're going to fall," he warns, glancing back at the rambunctious captain. If he does, he's not helping him back up. Did get a hold of coffee lately or something ..? " You have my attention already. What did you need ? "

@gumpistol || god. (unprompted)

[quincyhorst]

Frist off as to give some context, an Ina11 artist I really like drew something with RedoMata long ago, and leaving aside how beautiful the piece is (Please check it out), something clicked to me.

...Sometimes, I think its easy for me to forget how oddly enough, Red Matador has a HUGE tie-in with nobility/the spanish royalty when it comes to motifs. Like, even to the point it has the literal crown on its emblem; a huge difference when comparing it to more "royal" ones like Knights of Queen (Who have a sword) and Rose Griffon (Also swords). Huh.

And also talking about Champ 2010, the special IE3 Ogre team, the team gets a slight upgrade, with its upper half being reminiscent of the typical castle towers.

Though being sincere, I genuinely cannot think of a proper connection with this team and the spanish crown outside of this little easter egg. Even when removing my own headcanons of their backgrounds, I genuinely cannot see none of them being related to the higher classes. They all look like normal country/city boys to me 😭

...Well, there is one, kind of. Querardo (DUH). He has always given this aura of being some sort of ruler, something that both canon and fanon(*) do agree with. Plus, he does seem to have some sort of... Nobility? Not sure how to express it. But I could picture him sleeping on a fancy ass mansion's bed like on the fanart shared before (?

(Also, lions are the most associated animal with kings and royalty.)

Still, I'm not fully sure. I really prefer what the spanish profile proposed of him being raised in a bull farm, making him also be a country boy. Afaik, there are no bull farms owned or with ties to the royals, aren't they...? I know that the current spanish king has went to spectate some bullfights, but I'm yet to know the full picture.

Maybe there's a way to tie both ideas in, maybe there's not. I'll keep this wordvomit here just in case. Personally, in my own story.... I'd rather keep the spanish royals ten miles away from having any actual relevance.

----

(With fanon, I refer to this fic in which Querardo is adressed as a king jokingly by Joan and other characters, even with him getting nicknamed Rey Querardo / King Querardo).