#semiretired

[gingerteaonthetardis]

If you want prompts for ninerose I'd love to read something about Nine speaking to/about Rose in Gallifreyan and her learning the language in secret to understand him

nonny, i cannot stress enough how much i loved this prompt. that said, i took it and kind of spun off a little. it's not precisely what you asked for, but i hope you enjoy it anyway! (and please forgive any mistakes. i was too excited to do much editing.)

—

𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐃𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬

[read on AO3]

—

He only ever did it when he thought he was alone.

The first time, she thought he must have hit his head or something—after all, if the TARDIS wasn't translating, the Doctor was surely talking gibberish. Strange syllables that sounded musical and otherworldly, with long vowels stretched between, reminding her of wind chimes—they tickled her ears and the back of her brain in just the same way.

But when she’d come into the console room, calling out to him with a note of worry in her voice, the Doctor had turned and grinned at her. Wide and crooked and pleased—as pleased as he always was to see her, which made her grin back, sort of embarrassed and thrilled at once. “Rose,” he'd said. 

Perfectly clear, perfectly English. Northern-tinged as usual. Nothing odd about it.

And then some sensor or other had started going off, and she didn't have time to ask.

She caught him at it again, a few weeks later, down in the TARDIS storage cellar that he was in the process of “re-purposing” into a workshop. This mostly involved negotiating with the ship and moving precarious stacks of boxes around, grumbling to himself. But that day, the usual back-and-forth had turned to a full-blown argument loud enough to call her over from the media room: on one side, with flashing lights and hissing pipes, and on the other, with shouting in that same semi-melodic way. The ends of each… well, sentence, she supposed… were more clipped off, though. Irritated.

Rose was fascinated.

"What is that?" she asked, poking her head through the door.

The Doctor's shoulders, somewhere up near his ears, dropped suddenly. And rather than meeting her gaze, he looked with suspicious intensity at the crate he held.

"What's what?"

"You were shouting just now."

"I was making a point," he shot back.

"Yeah, in a different language."

"So?" He shrugged too forcefully, then wheeled on one foot and stalked off to put the crate down on the far end of the room. "I speak loads of languages. So does the TARDIS. She prefers Romance languages, or else Ancient Manussian, but there's no accounting for taste." It was such an obvious attempt to distract her that Rose almost took pity on him and allowed it. But she was too curious to let the subject drop.

"The TARDIS wasn't translating it, though," she went on, "the words you were saying. I've heard you doing it before and it's just, like… nonsense sounds."

The Doctor turned on her, looking indignant. "Excuse me, that's my native language you're talking about! And if any language is nonsensical, look to your own butchered tongue. So many diphthongs!"

She didn't know what to say to that for several seconds. She could only look at him, standing there in his jumper with his sleeves rolled up and a smudge of some kind of grease across his chin, his hands on his hips like he was about to launch into one of his lectures.

Native language. She couldn't believe it, but… didn't it make perfect sense? He wasn't human. He was alien—a Time Lord—no matter how often he made her forget it, looking how he did. Behaving how he did.

"But… if it's a real language," she tried slowly, carefully, "your language—how come the TARDIS doesn't translate it? She's from there, right? From…?"

For some reason, she couldn't say it.

"Gallifrey," the Doctor answered for her.

The syllables seemed to sparkle, even though he'd spoken them flat, without affect. And fast, like he was ripping off a bandage.

"So she understands it." She gestured all around her at the ship's recessed lights, which had gradually receded to their usual, steady glow. "But she doesn't… translate? Using the telepathic field thingy?"

The Doctor blinked at her. And didn't look away.

It wasn't his usual kind of stare; his there you go again, asking the right questions look, the one that made her feel so proud, was nowhere to be seen. Eyes not cold, but not warm either.

He was just… looking at her. Sort of through her.

After a little while, she prompted him. "Doctor?"

Then he jerked back into motion, walking back across the cellar to where his leather coat was draped over a tall metal bench, mixed in with scraps of machine parts. He shook the jacket off, and nuts and bolts went flying this way and that, prompting a fresh, irritable hiss of steam from one of the nearby pipes. The Doctor spoke as he moved, as sharp and sudden as a lightning strike.

"She doesn't need to," he clipped out. "Nobody really speaks it anymore, 'sides us two. For all intents and purposes, it's a dead language." And then he said, just as quickly, "Come on. Just remembered we're out of eggs," before striding out the door.

—

A dead language.

The phrase stuck in her head all the rest of that day, as they wandered around the Predoran market, the burble of automatically translated speech humming all around. Fishmongers and cargo haulers and sailors on shore leave. Thousands of people speaking a language she couldn't really hear, but nonetheless understood.

The thoughts lingered the next morning, when she stumbled back into the TARDIS, salt-crusted from their tip overboard a cargo ship, and all but collapsed into her silent bed.

She couldn't shake it, though the Doctor flew her back to London for her mum's birthday—though he made a production of taking her to the Centennial Carnival on Cortago—though he helped her "bump into" Jane Austen in an old friend's drawing room—though he dragged her halfway across the universe and back, narrowly averting disaster, saving lives, meeting new people, grinning wildly as he always had. Speaking in that elemental tongue they somehow shared: the one that spelled adventure.

But…

A dead language.

She couldn't stop remembering. And she was sure he couldn't either.

—

"Gallifrey."

The library terminal beeped. The golden text across the darkened screen said, Results: 0/0.

Rose puffed out a breath. "Okay. What about 'Gallifrey-ish'?"

Results: 0/0.

"Seriously? Nothing in Time Lord-ese?"

The terminal gave another sad-sounding beep.

Rose frowned, chewing on her thumbnail while her other hand hovered over the screen.

She'd never really bothered with the TARDIS library, except the visual media section and the few times she'd checked out the The Collected Works of Charles Dickens. The massive room had been included on her initial hasty welcome tour, but she'd been too intimidated to spend much time there.

There were so many dusty, fragile-looking old books—not to mention hundreds of thousands of hardbacks and paperbacks, scrolls and tablets and comics—all categorized in endless towering rows that made her head spin. The Doctor claimed this wasn't the largest library in the universe, but Rose thought that had to be a lie.

And it didn't seem possible that a room this big didn't contain a single volume with the name of the Doctor's home planet in the title.

Her eyes flicked up, and she bit her lip, feeling silly as she said, "Look, just give me something. Please," to the empty room. "It's for him. I'm trying to… help."

She winced.

Help was possibly not the right word. Maybe there was a reason for the zero results. Maybe the Doctor didn't want any reminders of his past, his people—the world that was now gone, with he the only living remnant. Maybe he'd purged the library or something.

But if he didn't want to be reminded of home, why did he still speak the language? Why had he looked like he'd swallowed a stone when she'd caught him at it?

Sighing, Rose realized that the TARDIS wasn't going to magically intervene, raining down Time Lord Culture for Dummies and English-to-alien dictionaries on her head. She turned from the search terminal, ready to give up the hunt.

But before she could fully turn her back, the computer gave another little beep. And then two together, like synthesized chirps. Then several more in rapid succession.

She looked back.

The screen had tabbed over from the default library results to a page with the header 'Local Audio Logs.' Beneath that was a subheading of 'Relative date: 5000 AD'.

Results: 1-9/77.

"Oh my god."

She immediately went back to the terminal, the base of which had opened, projecting out a narrow tray. Nestled in its foamy lining were a pair of thin, silvery-blue headphones, and she reached for them eagerly, sliding them onto her head without a second thought. She tapped one of the logs at random and an audio player sprung to life, crackly sound immediately filling her ears.

"—sense in giving the game away. Just a few short, simple commands, you know, could make all the difference next time. I'll try one now." And then she heard it: the fluid string of sounds, the chiming vowels, pronounced with much more theatricality than she was used to from the Doctor. She wondered who was speaking.

The voice was fuzzed with age, but was clear enough to make out it wasn't the Doctor; the accent, the tone were all different. It had to be someone he'd travelled with in the past. Someone who spoke his language.

"Well? That means, 'Watch out.' Did you get it?"

"Negative."

The second voice almost made her jump. It sounded mechanical, robotic.

"Listen, K9, just listen!" The man repeated the same sounds, and this time, Rose strained her ears the way she imagined the robot-thing called K9 might have. She tried to pick out the unique sounds, to make sense of them in her mind. "Yes? Got it?"

There was a brief pause. Then: "Affirmative, Master."

"Very good! Well done, K9." The man laughed, and it was a warm laugh. Almost impish at the same time, too, and Rose felt herself smiling confusedly before the audio log continued. Was that his name, like the Doctor was the Doctor? Was this man called 'Master'?

She scrambled to hit the pause button and dragged her finger back, so the audio could play again.

"Listen, K9, just listen!" And then the Gallifreyan words.

She played that bit back once, twice, first mouthing along with the sounds and then whispering them. They strained her voice in an odd way, like she had too many vocal cords and they were tripping over one another—or maybe like she didn't have enough. But after a dozen times or so, she peeled one of the headphones off to hear herself mumbling along.

It didn't sound like anything, really, certainly not like words. But it also didn't sound wrong. She grinned.

"Affirmative, Master."

"Very good! Well done, K9."

"Oh," she realized suddenly. "Like, K9. It's a robot dog." And then she burst into giggles.

—

Progress was, of course, very slow.

Rose figured out a way to get the audio logs onto her MP3 player, but even compressed the files were enormous, so she could only fit three or four of them at a time on there, even after giving up her whole Spice Girls collection.

It was probably better that way. All of the logs were just that same man, and he seemed to like talking as much as the Doctor did. He sped along at warp speed, tossing out the words and phrases he seemed to think a robot dog ought to know. Simple things, mostly.

Rose drank in every syllable.

She listened to the logs a few at a time, in the morning while she was putting on her makeup and after she'd crawled into bed. She turned the phrases over, whispering them into the silence like a great secret. She immersed herself, as much as she could.

Before long, those audios started to feel like a song she'd listened to over and over. They got stuck in her head. When she found herself racing down the shop floor of an abandoned textiles mill, the Gallifreyan word for faster shot through her mind. When a Quellian high noble kept interrupting the Doctor during peace negotiations, she had to stop herself from snapping out the phrase for be quiet.

Sometimes, though, she turned on some of the audios and just listened. Not because she wanted to practice, even, but because she liked the man who spoke in them. She liked how his voice had a smile in it. How affectionate he was toward K9. How quick and clever he seemed, as he came up with increasingly specific commands for his robot dog to learn.

Rose found herself wishing that the logs were in video format, so she could see the man's face.

She considered asking the Doctor about him, but quickly abandoned the idea. A friend of the Doctor's, most likely travelling with him, speaking the language—he had to be a Time Lord. Which meant he was gone.

The thought made her feel lonely… as if somehow, she had lost him, too.

—

Rose lay sprawled across the media room sofa, eyes closed with her MP3 player resting on her belly.

"Want to—earn—other one, K9?" the man in the audio log asked, his voice somewhat muffled. There was a clanking noise that kept interrupting, drowning out snatches of his speech. For some reason, she had a vision of the Doctor with his head under the TARDIS console, fiddling with some loose wire or bit of piping.

"Affir—tive, Master."

"I do—ish you'd give—this 'Master'—usiness. I have—name, you know."

Rose's eyebrows pinched in concentration, while her heart rate steadily climbed, thudding eagerly in her chest. She realized, all of a sudden, she'd been waiting for this moment. Was she finally going to learn the man's name?

"Here, I'll tell—you in—allifreyan."

Gallifreyan. That's what the language was actually called.

She barely had time to take the new information in before there was an extra loud clang and a shuffling scrape. The man's voice was clearer when he spoke.

Rose hadn't been sure she was piecing together anything very meaningful about the structure of the Doctor's native language, up 'til then—she knew nothing about what made it work, what the individual bits and pieces amounted to. The grammar of it evaded her, and she'd mostly felt like a baby mimicking the world around them, repeating noises without real comprehension.

But this particular jangle of sound lodged itself in her ear, and she felt like she understood it perfectly. Like it made absolute sense; the sound was the man, the man was the sound.

"Really rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?" the man joked. "But I guess it's better than Theta Sig—"

She raced to pause the audio log, to rewind. To play it from the start.

And again.

She realized she was hearing something in the name, something a shade off of one of K9's commands—a syllable that was like the word for 'find,' or maybe… 'help'? They were so similar, it was hard to tell. But it made her feel something, a lightness in her chest. This man had been a helper, a finder, a seeker of something. She'd heard it in his voice, and now she could hear it in his name.

She played the clip back again, and again, and again, lips moving in time. Then she paused, pulling off the headphones, saying the name aloud for her own ears. She was getting better at the ringing bell vowel sounds, and she smiled proudly as she said it again, a little more confidently.

"What are you doing?"

She snapped upright, looking over the back of the couch, at where the Doctor stood in the doorway.

He looked shell-shocked, his usually bright eyes curiously glossed over. And he had his coat on, his hands stuffed in his pockets, like he'd been coming to fetch her for another adventure and had instead stumbled upon a crime scene, or an alien artifact he could make no sense of.

"Doctor!" she began, too brightly. "Are we going somewhere?" She flung her legs off the couch, hurriedly pulling the headphones off her neck. They'd come disconnected from the MP3 player, which had clattered to the floor. "Let me just—get my—"

"Rose, what are you doing?"

His voice stopped her in her tracks, and she stared back, wide-eyed. His voice was raspy like he'd been yelling—or maybe as if he was about to cry. But his face was cold and remote as the snow-capped waves of Women Wept. Rose could barely stand to look at it.

She swallowed thickly and, for a flash of a second, really considered lying. And after she lied, she decided, she would go and delete the latest audio files; she would put away her MP3 player and never even look at it again without feeling furtive guilt.

But she couldn't do that. The Doctor didn't deserve that.

Her mouth ran ahead of her.

"I was learning Gallifreyan," she said.

The Doctor said nothing.

"I… stumbled across some old audio logs where this man—this really nice man—was teaching his robot dog some commands in your language, and I thought…" Weakly, she trailed off, trying to smile. "Well, if this robot dog could learn, so can I, right?"

"K9," he replied. "That's his name."

Her smile came a little easier now. "Yeah, I heard. And the man teaching K9, did he travel with you? I thought, since the TARDIS called it a log that it must have been recorded on the ship, but… Was he a friend of yours?"

His face remained impassive, but his hands dug further and more obviously into his pockets. "That word you said. Did he say what it was?"

"Oh, yeah," Rose nodded fervently. "He told K9 it was his name in Gallifreyan." Then she repeated the sounds as she remembered them, knowing her pronunciation was clumsy—there was none of that chiming rightness in her voice now, from nerves—but it must have been understandable. Because she watched the Doctor's expression contort, his eyes fluttering shut, jaw ticking.

She hesitated, then asked, "What does it mean, in English?"

"The Doctor," the Doctor said heavily.

She felt an odd, hysterical urge to giggle. "What? You had a friend called Doctor, too?"

"No."

"Then…" Her mind swam, torn between the sound of the word echoing off her grey matter and the information she was being presented with. "You're the… man in the audio log? That was you?"

Slowly, the Doctor nodded.

It didn't make sense. "But you sound so different!"

"'Cause I was different. My people were alive back then, and an endless source of bother. I wore a hat, and a scarf, and I had long hair. Corkscrews," he added, gesturing at his own close-cropped head. "And I was taller, I think." He spoke each word like doing so strained his muscles. "I've changed a lot, Rose. Many times."

"What d'you mean, changed?"

Her voice came out sharp, and the Doctor's eyes batted open.

"Why did you want to learn Gallifreyan?" he asked, as if she hadn't even spoken.

"So I could talk to you." It was an automatic answer, and her mouth screwed up with its inadequacy. "In your own language. And because… I didn't like what you said. About Gallifreyan being dead."

"Rose," he said.

"It seemed wrong. I mean, you're alive, aren't you? And as long as you can speak it, and someone else can answer, then it's like—the language is still alive, too. Or at least, there can be people who remember it." She realized her hands had balled into fists, and there was an unwelcome prickle in the corners of her eyes. She didn't want to cry; this wasn't about her. But she couldn't seem to help it. "Someone should remember," she said, pleading.

For a long moment, she thought he would simply turn around and leave again. He looked like he wanted to.

But then, after a little longer, he said. "Your pronunciation is off. You need to hold the 'o' a little longer, and not turn it into a 'u'." The Doctor scoffed to himself. "You Brits and your ridiculous diphthongs."

Rose tried again, said the name—his name, she marvelled—and his posture eased. The lines crowding his forehead smoothed out a bit, and she felt herself exhale, too, the relief heady. Blood rushed back to her uncurled fingers.

"Is that right?" she asked.

"It's better."

And that was good enough for her.

—

A few days later, they were back in the media room, talking on the sofa as they sometimes did after a particularly eventful day.

The Doctor hadn't been in the mood to read aloud—tired, for once, of his own voice, she assumed—and she was somehow too tired even to watch the telly, ten billion channel package or not. So they both rested their heads against the back of the couch and just sat, facing one another, talking now and then. Sometimes they tried to pepper in the bits of Gallifreyan Rose understood. She wanted to ask him, still, what he'd meant when he said he'd changed.

Mostly they were quiet.

But then:

"Doctor?"

"Hm?"

"What's my name? In, er, your language, I mean."

His smile was strangely soft, and his mouth made the syllables, and Rose heard them. She tried to listen for root words, to make meaning out of the musical jangle, but her name wasn't like the Doctor's. It was shorter, sweeter. Simpler. But he said it warmly, and the same warmth spread in her chest.

"I like that," whispered Rose.

"Yeah," said the Doctor. "Me too."

[dykeposting]

Finally realized the huge lesbian potential of Colorado. Dyke on a hike!

[puckpocketed]

reyna and jett ranked duo is so yuri to me . we dont need men we need to run it down mid hand in 2/10/0 hand

[celestialprincesse]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

"No - Char, we already have cheese at home." You huff exasperatedly, trying to prevent your daughter's little fists from going at the babybel in the supermarket fridge for the third time in the two minutes you've been lingering in the dairy produce aisle.

"Red cheese!" She shrieks in protest, one of her hands clinging to the rumpled fabric of your dress, the other practically clawing at the glass of the fridge for her favourite cheese - cheese which you've got an abundance of at home.

Her little shopping trolley, which she insisted on having, overflows with snacks and the few essentials you'd needed to make dinner tonight, but mostly snacks. You'd only realised this morning that your fridge was almost entirely void of any sort of appropriate, adult dinner ingredients - a realisation you're glad happened this morning and not later, seeing as Simon was coming for dinner this evening for a not date but not not a date. Whatever that means.

You're pretty sure he's just trying his best not to freak you out - to ease you into the feelings blossoming in the space between you like a frightened animal. When you'd invited him for dinner? That had been an attempt at showing him that you wanted him, wanted to see his broad shoulders and messy blond hair in your apartment, as opposed to across the hall from it.

Another petulant little yell forces you from your thoughts, only to realise that Charlotte's petulance is actually excitement, something having caught her attention so much that she goes toddling off as fast as her little legs will carry her. "No - Charlotte!" You plead, trying to scoop her up before two massive, tattooed arms beat you to it.

"Easy, tiger." That deliciously rumbly accent soothes both Charlotte's excitement, and the worry roiling in your stomach. His eyes don't so much as relax you, rather melt you completely, until you're sure to be just a fleshy puddle on the linoleum supermarket floors. "Simon." You state dumbly, voice robotic and slightly detached as you take stock of the past few moments of having been on autopilot.

"Fancy seeing you here." He croons, slinging Charlotte to sit on his hip in such an easy manner - unfairly hot. Although, everything he does is unfairly hot. He's unfairly hot.

You're convinced your brain must've melted and dribbled out of your ears in the few steps from the cheese to the butter section of the fridges, because you're so dumbstruck and stupidly confused by his sudden presence (and how utterly fucking sexy he looks caring for you and your daughter with such instinctive ease) that you can't even seem to find your words.

"Charlotte wanted cheese." Is the first, and obviously the most embarrassing thing that comes out of your mouth, and the wry smirk that pulls at his scarred lips has you kicking yourself. Repeatedly. Hard.

"Mm. Course. Gotta get aaall the calcium in to get big and strong, hey Char?" He coos, and you feel as though you might've just died and gone to heaven, because never on earth did you expect, or hope, to see a six foot, semiretired SAS soldier so casually looking after your child as if she were his own.

After a few moments of gawking, and failing to hide said gawking, you reluctantly part ways with Simon, realising that not only do you need to get Charlotte to bed, clean the house, make dinner and get ready - you realise that you need to look good.

And put on fresh bed linen. With absolutely no ulterior motives in mind at all whatsoever. None.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

[deityoftherain]

Traffic Life Superpowers AU Memes pt.1

Under the cut are a bunch of memes and silly character dynamic posts that I've made for my au, some from the perspective of being in universe making memes about their city's local superpower scene on the internet and some by us in our reality, under the cut that I posted in my discord server. There are spoilers for the fanfics in the series above, you have been warned!

Name Quick Guide hero villain vigilante/other civilian (look at #traffic life superpowers au or click on their name for more information on their powers and etc)

Tango is a vigilante named Phoenix Scott is a villain named Starflower Pearl is a villain named Scarlet Moon Lizzie is a hero named Shadowlady Etho is a hero named Slab Joel is a hero named Helter Skelter, or Hel Skel for short Skizz is a semiretired hero named Skizzleman BigB is more of a semiretired, private sector hero named Tip Martyn is a villain named Knight Ren is a villain named The Red King Cleo is more of a floater but is working with the heroes as of now named Zomblaze

Grian is a civilian working for the Traffic City Hero Agency as a therapist Scar is a civilian working at an animal shelter that he owns

Scarlet Moon and Starflower are a villain duo called "Galaxy Duo" The Red King and his Knight are a villain duo called "Dogwarts" Shadowlady, Slab, and Helter Skelter are a hero team that often work together

more memes

even more memes

masterpost

I love them all dearly <333

[salt-clangen]

Non Saltclan updates

I lost the ask, but someone had mentioned wanting to know what was going on with the other clans so I figured I’d make a brief update for Honeyclan, Oakclan, and Duskclan. This is minor stuff that doesn’t really affect the plot, kinda like the gossip you’d get at a gathering.

Duskclan:

Greyclaw has finally taken a mate, she’s a small color point molly that was formerly a loner, then she joined Honeyclan met Greyclaw and moved to Duskclan to be with him. Her name is Ferncall and she’s a care taker.

Lynxdawn’s mom has passed, she was buried near the cleric stones to honor her life of caring for the clan’s kits. It was a very unpopular decision but Jaggedstar and Brackenpurr (the clan nurse and Mallow’s sister) have stood by it.

Tallowfoot and Wrenflight- Crow and Mallow’s sister’s respectively- are officially mates and making plans to find a sire to have kits.

Sparkclaw was pregnant, she didn’t make it to term. She hasn’t told anyone who the sire was but most assume it was Clearstorm.

Ashenstep was injured in a fight with Oakclan and now has a permanent limp, they’ve been relieved of warrior duties and all tasks not related to being a historian. In Duskclan this is kind of semiretirement.

Thornstrike has been on his best behavior lately, managing to get in both Jaggedstar and Greyclaw’s good graces. He’s been allowed to return to gatherings though no one outside of the clan knows why he was banned to begin with.

Crowpaw earned their cleric name, Crowflight

Both Greyclaw and Ashenstep received Wolfstar’s request to meet up in secret but neither have agreed. They agree they must focus on their clan even over their kin, if they can’t follow the warrior code when it’s difficult then what’s the point?

Frostwhisper is the lead cleric now, though they are hesitant to call themselves that, and Darkfold has officially retired. Shes kept fairly comfortable on pain soothing herbs and plenty of rest. She probably won’t make it to next newleaf.

Jaggedstar has finally taken another apprentice after Wolfstar’s defection. Her name is Dogpaw.

Oakclan

Archstar has regain popularity amongst their dissenters by leading a successful raid on Duskclan following a border skirmish.

Shadowdive’s sister, Inkypelt, is pregnant

Tanglefur has taken another apprentice, Snowspeckle’s adopted nephew, Minkpaw

Silverleaf, Shadowdive’s brother, has passed away from the border skirmish.

Smallstep is pregnant again

Mousefoot has officially retired after Redpaw earned his cleric name, Redmoon. We’ll see how long he stays retired.

Fogdapple is now the lead cleric….shes not thrilled

Robinswoop, the deputy, killed a fox that was attacking a Honeyclan patrol

Butterflygaze disappeared for a few days and came back with a rainbow collar on

Honeyclan

Bluemoon has given birth to 4 kits, though only 2 survived after heat stroke. Both are mollies named runningkit and mudkit.

Rookstar lost two lives after a former clan mate returned from their exile and attacked him. The offending cat, Rainey, has been killed.

Junipersong has been absent from gatherings as her ghost sense has become very distressing for her and she has panic attacks in large crowds.

Wandering twolegs have destroyed two hives, seemingly for fun, and the clan struggles to rebuild the hives and get the bees to return.

Sunpaw has gotten his warrior name, he’s now Suntell and a full artisan. He still greatly admires Snowspeckle.

Rosedrift is pregnant and has stepped away from her position as lead cleric for the time being, the clan is very scandalized as clerics are expected to not carry kits and remain in the cleric den.

[cmdrfupa]

“In a person's lifetime there may be not more than half a dozen occasions that he can look back to in the certain knowledge that right then, at that moment, there was room for nothing but happiness in his heart.”

The delicate world of houses husbands, beekeeping age partners, sweet spouses and gentle lovers. The world may have been cruel to them but they have found respite in the intricacies of having a life where they take their time and not sweating the small things. The rest and care they deserve is now given, thanks to you.

For the sake of story building and creating a little world of domesticity, everyone’s alive. Canon events will be mentioned as well as plot lines. Incidents may have occurred but everyone is breathing and happy and a cutie patootie.

General C/N warning: mostly fluff, established relationships, pet names, suggestiveness, light smut, mentions of death, slight angst, afab but most are gn!reader (will be tagged accordingly)

an: hi pookies. I genuinely wanted to do this as I love giving a little heaven and softening the lives of men who I personally think wanted a soft, gentle story of domestic life and love. Each story will hopefully make you smile as much as it made me while writing! I may add others in the future but I wanted to start with the four loving, doting, devoted, so handsome I could cry men. You may request and if I feel comfortable doing so, I will add em!

SAHD!Toji: Daddy Daycare (female!reader)

Homemaker!Ijichi: Humble Abode (gn!reader)

Retired!Kento: coming soon

Semiretired!Hiromi: coming soon

[i-am-vita]

OPLA hot older guys headcanons

Yesterday was the longest working day I've had in a while and my brain decided to affect my concentration and performance by hyperfixated in one thing only: THE AMOUNT OF HOT OLDER GUYS IN OPLA.

(The highlight of the day being @fanaticsnail based her new Mihawk fic on the dream I had the other day. I can´t still thank you enough! ToT)

So now my brain won't let me live in peace without getting these reader-headcanons into the internet in a kind of kill, marry, kiss way but instead we kiss all of them at one point of our life.

.

👉 Masterlist, More here.

Warning: mention of sex, drinking and general horny thoughts (?) Probably very bad written since english is not my first language XD

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So you, my gentle readers, are a semiretired white collar thief, former first mate of the misterious Phantom Pirates, who had to go into hidding to take care of your little niece after your older sister and her marine husband died in a shipwreck 8 years ago.

You're pretty set in giving your niece a comfortable and peacefull life, like her parents had, but she may have other ideas and be more like yourself than her own mother, because at 18yo she escaped home while you was visiting a neighbour island for business.

Now you're on full mama goose mode, searching for your duckling for the East Blue. And may reaquaint with some interesting men of your past.

Lets get a look at them ;)

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Mihawk

Current (VERY) interested. Doesn't know if he wants to behead you or fuck you.

You met during a heist at a marine's party going very bad a year ago. Your crew weren't aware of his attendance to the party (the man hardly attends his own warlord reunions), so you had to make a last minute distraction or you would've been discovered. So distracting Dracule Mihawk by heavy flirting with him and stealing his golden cross-knife was the best you could came up with.

You're an excellent knife wielder but your price habilities are in the infiltrate area so slipping away is kind of your thing. Nobody can keep up with you. Except a very pissed off warlord.

After an action packed chase, filled with you getting under his skin and him almost getting you more times than you're comfortable remembering, you considered it was enough time for the crew to had escape the party, so you released his cross and got the hell out of there leaving a very crossed (hah) Mihawk.

Since you semiretired 8ya, you pulled a job with your old crew from time to time and just if it was a very big score, but your reputation precedes you, and Mihawk managed to connect you with the infamous Phantom Pirates with many other thefts along the Grand Line and even inside Marine Bases in all the Blues.

The thing about the Phantom Pirates is that nobody knows who they are or how they look like. Your captain just known as a white masked man, no name but "Captain of the Phantom Pirates" 150,000,000. Your own wanted posters without photo but a ? and the epitet "The Ghost Rose" 80,000,000. Until now. Mihawk saw enough of you to recognize you if he sees you again but decides against informing the government.

You're his to find and deal with ;)

Kuro

The controlling and toxic angry ex we all should have for drama.

You met during your golden years as a first officer of the Phantoms, your crew and his having a brief alliance to work together several times.

You thought you were perfect for each other, both loving your plans and having similar habilities with knives and speed, but his controlling, manipulating, perfectionist and literal bloody tendencies sour the deal pretty soon.

He didn't see you as an equal but another pawn for his plans, apparently the only one good enough by his standards, but still a pawn. So you dumped his presumptuous ass and sailed away to never see each other again.

You didn't feel a little sorry after hearing of his passing.

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Now you have tracked your niece to Syrup Village, the home of some old friends of her parents and whose daughter, Kaya, had keep in contact with through the years but haven't seen since before her own parents passed away.

There you came to know that indeed your niece arrived the day prior just in time for her friend's 18th birthday and, after a very eventfull night, she sailed away with a group of Kaya's new friends and saviors that same morning in a new vessel with a ram's head.

The fact they got acquainted with Kuro himself, who turned to be alive and posing as Kaya's buttler for 3 years, paled in comparison to discover this little group has a boy captain set to sail the Grand Line to find the One Piece. And if the witness of the shipyard got it right, already has a big ass marine ship tailing them.

Judging by their route, they were heading to the Sambas Region and there's only one place to dock there...

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Bogard

The what-migh-have-been if he wasn't such a workaholic and you hadn't run away from home.

You met back in your previous life when you were a young debutante set by your parents to settle with a respectable marine husband, like your big sister.

He was just promoted to Garp's right hand despite his youth. Being one of the youngest officers with a promising career.

You were indeed charmed by him, but found yourself suffocating by the idea of a future like your sister's. Even after he confessed his plans of sailing the world and not being opposed to his future wife to be a marine too with him.

You did wanted a life of adventure and liberty, but not as a marine. You rejected his proposal and dissapeared days after. Your family came up with the story of you leaving to be an artist and study with the masters in the continent.

Truly nobody had a clue of you for years until you showed up after hearing of your sister's death to take care of your niece, looking like a well put together and wealthy art dealer.

Shanks

The one you ran away with to a life of piracy.

Days after rejecting Bogard and be sent by your parents to some "vacation" to think better of your life choices, you went to hide from your chaperones in a shaddy bar, full of young confidence that you could deal with it.

Plot twist: you did not. You found yourself in the universal female experience of dealing with guys not accepting a no for an answer and had to be rescued by a charming redhead in a straw hat whom you ran away with that same night after you both stole everything you could from those assholes ship and your chaperone's.

After burning out the initial passion, you and Shanks decided that maybe were better as friends, but still sailed together for a while, you learning everything about pirate life from him until you crossed paths with the Phantom Pirates. Captain Erik, being really impressed by you and your knowledge of the upper society, offered you a place in his crew, which you accepted, and kept training you.

Shanks and you remained good friends over the years, even assisting to his legendary drink parties from time to time. Your crew never having any reason to being enemies and even helping his if they needed intel on something.

Didn't expect to be precisely him to give you "parental advice" after you went looking for him when hearing he was in a nearby island, now minus an arm, and confessed you were semi-retired with a child to take care.

No, the child wasn't from him! Why would his crew would thing that?

Buggy

IT-WAS-JUST-ONE-TIME!!!!

But your stupid crew'd never let you live down that.

Surprinsingly, your Captain Erik and Captain Buggy turned to be very good friends. Both with a flair for dramatics and love for certain aesthetics, but yours being happy with working in the shadows, which suited Buggy perfectly.

Every time your crews crossed paths, it was a full carnival for days. And it was in one of those that it happened.

Even if you like and hold very well your alcohol, that time you were really wasted, having just broke up with Kuro. There was no way you'd had jump the clown's bones otherwise. You had standards!

But who'd have thought that the mad jester was such a charmer while drunk? Whispering dirty while still sweet poetry to your ears. Had his eyes always been so pretty? And those arms looked like they might hold you up without effort...

You woke up in his tent with the worst hangover of your life, naked and with a surprinsingly good recollection of the night before.

Of course you took your clothes and ran away to hide in your quarters for the rest of the day.

Fortunately, Buggy hadn't such a detailed memory of the night prior and assumed he passed it with one of the hired women from the local brothel whom the crew invited to the party.

But of course, your captain saw you leaving Buggy's tent and wouldn't stop teasing you for the rest of your life.

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That's it, my gentle readers. The headcanons for today and I'm already regreting it because my head is full of more ideas than ever and my job performance so down that I'm considering just dig its grave XD

👉 More here.

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[senatortedcruz]

Taylor hanging out with all these zoomer pop girls because her peers she came up with are semiretired makeup salesmen now

[sighinastorm]

Please stop rebooting Superman. Let Superman be old. Please stop rebooting Batman. Let Batman go into semiretirement. Let's really build a batfam. Let's have a Batman Beyond movie franchise. Everyone wants to make their shit look like Blade Runner now anyway; it'll be perfect.

[thesummerstorms]

Ok so if I did this to Arsinoë it would be an AU because it feels mean. But I keep thinking about it?

Rook de Riva who earns a forcible semiretirement from the Crows by virtue of being unable to live for extended periods of time outside of the Lighthouse without growing ill due to negative effects of the time dilation in the Fade Prison.

You can't take contracts in Orlais or the Free Marches if you can't risk the length of the ship's voyage or the caravan route. Sure, maybe the journey is only expected to take a few weeks, right at the edge of your endurance... But what if the ship is becalmed? Or bandits attack your carriage? Or if the target isn't where they're supposed to be? What if something goes wrong?

The Eluvians are wonders, but they're still limited mostly to one per each nation in the north, and if one breaks and Rook is caught outside?

To say nothing of what havoc this would play on their romantic relationships.

[aziraphales-library]

do you have a fic where it’s what would have happened if crowley and aziraphale hadn’t met at the garden?

Check our #different first meeting tag for fics like this! Here are some more to add to the collection...

Till death do us part (or not) by fractalgeometry (G)

Possible other titles for this fic, since they summarize it better than I ever could:

Assumed mortality, and other reasons to dump people

In my defense the odds of both of us being immortal is extremely slim

Awkward Tesco reunions: the real curse of immortality

that awkward moment when your ex from 300 years ago turns out to also be immortal

You always meet twice (and sometimes the second time is after 300 years in a fucking tesco and you embarass yourself in front of the cashier)

(Aka the fic in which they are both immortal, they do not realize this, and they break up and think the other is dead for several centuries before it turns out that wait, they're both very much alive after all and also, possibly, walnuts.)

My Immortal Beloved by Fyre (T)

A couple of centuries ago, Crowley had a Thing with an average normal human. Only for some reason, every letter he ever sent to that average normal human has just turned up in a museum exhibit. Including the ones about licking.

HallMark of the Beast by Dee_Morris (T)

Fast-living demon Crowley has had enough of city life and moved to the quiet little town of Tadfield with his young ward, The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast That is Called Dragon, Prince of This World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan, and Lord of Darkness. It seems like the perfect place to relax and lay low, avoiding eye contact with the forces of Hell while also fulfilling the letter of his contract, which is to educate the Adversary on his Great Destiny. And the Christmas decorations are lovely. Life gets less relaxing when he meets Aziraphale, a semiretired angel who has been living in Tadfield and awaiting the arrival of the Antichrist for several centuries. Sparks fly when the two meet and realize that they have more in common with each other than with their respective head offices.

The Great Pretender or A Man with (at least two) Secrets by Makkoska (E)

The demon Crowley is seeing Mr Fell, a peculiar and fascinating bookshop owner. He knows the man has secrets, but doesn’t quite realize the extent of them. Or: It’s London, the 21st century. An ethereal and an occult creature meet and fall in love without realizing they are missing essential information about the other.

Shifting Heaven and Earth by BuggreAlleThis (T)

For most of history, since he narrowly avoiding Falling from Heaven with Lucifer, Crowley has been working for the Angelic Corruption Unit. This ended up being far more boring than he hoped it would be, but things change when he is assigned to go undercover on Earth. His mission is to investigate Aziraphale, an infamous angel who has been on Earth since its Creation, and whom Heaven is sure is guilty of corruption or dereliction of duty. He soon discovers that life on Earth is far more complicated than he'd been led to imagine, especially when Aziraphale's demonic counterpart, Hastur, arrives on the scene.

- Mod D

[beatricebidelaire]

Tomorrow afternoon I am interviewing a semi retired amateur geologist to see if this dropped stone is the same as the one Violet picks up at her second visit to Briny Beach.

-- tbb rare edition

A group of female Finnish pirates invented it back in the fifteenth century . . . Tomorrow afternoon, the semiretired amateur geologist has promised to put me in touch with current members of the F.F.P. so I can determine if there is any truth to the rumor that Violet Baudelaire came into contact with them on her way to Briny Beach for the third time. Interested parties might turn to Book the Thirteenth, assuming I live to write such a book.

-- tbb rare edition

thinking about the semi retired amateur geologist who has the means of getting in contact with the current female finnish pirates in lemony's tbb notes

[hasbr0mniverse]

Shipwreck’s Corner - Storm Shadow served with Snake-Eyes in Southeast Asia and both of them later studied the secret arts of Ninjitsu with Storm Shadow's family, a ninja clan that could trace its history back through thirty generations of assassins. Unhinged by the murder of his uncle and mentor, he infiltrated Cobra, seeking revenge but found vengeance to be a poor substitute for life. Now, in semiretirement at a remote mountain hideaway, he occasionally takes on a special mission or two-if Snake-Eyes asks him nicely.

[whenyourbirdisbroken]

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/09/04/world/europe/paul-mccartneys-lost-bass-guitar.htm

Have You Seen Paul McCartney’s Lost Bass Guitar? Tips Welcome.

By Isabella Kwai

For decades, mystery has surrounded the fate of the missing bass that accompanied the Beatles as they rocketed to fame. A new campaign is trying to find it.

Before Beatlemania, there was the distinctive Höfner violin bass — the first guitar that Paul McCartney bought after becoming the bassist for the Beatles.

That bass can be heard on some of the band’s most famous hits, including “Love Me Do,” “She Loves You,” and “Twist and Shout.”

Mr. McCartney picked up the instrument in a Hamburg music store in 1961, and it accompanied the Fab Four as they rocketed to stunning success, becoming the most famous band in the world. But the guitar vanished eight years later.

A new campaign is seeking to find the missing instrument, and hundreds of people have responded, hoping to help solve the decades-old mystery: Where is Paul McCartney’s missing bass guitar?

“It’s a hugely significant instrument in its own right,” said Nick Wass, a semiretired consultant for Höfner, the guitar’s manufacturer, who has joined forces with two journalists to try and track the guitar down. “It’s the bass that made the Beatles.”

“The bass was absolutely at the heart of the origins of the Beatles sound,” said one of the journalists, Scott Jones, who worked for the BBC. “The smallest pieces of information can often lead to the biggest breakthroughs,” he said of their appeal for tips on its fate.

Mr. Jones’s wife, Naomi, is the other journalist behind what they are calling The Lost Bass Project.

The three Beatles fans have urged members of the public to come forwardwith any information that might help. No tip is too small, they say, and they are promising to keep sources confidential. They say they have already received several credible leads since the project was launched on Saturday.

The instrument’s treasured place in Beatles mythology is intertwined with the band’s story. After the departure of their original bassist, Stuart Sutcliffe, Mr. McCartney, who had been playing guitar, switched instruments to replace him during a residency in Hamburg in 1961. For that, he needed a new bass guitar.

“I got my Violin Bass at the Steinway shop in the town center. I remember going along and there was this bass which was quite cheap,” he said in a 1993 interview with Guitar Magazine, adding that he had not wanted to go into debt and could only afford the Höfner, 500/1 guitar at the time. It cost about £30 pounds, or $38, he recalled. “And once I bought it, I fell in love with it.”

Mr. McCartney took the guitar back to Britain, where it accompanied the Beatles through hundreds of gigs — from the band’s early concerts at the Cavern Club in Liverpool, where they were spotted by Brian Epstein, who would become their manager, to the recording of their first two albums. It was repaired in 1964, according to the team behind the new search, and then used along with other bass guitars.

But the last confirmed sighting of the instrument was in London in 1969, in video footage of the band members writing their final album, “Let It Be.” Rumors have percolated ever since about what happened to the instrument: The Lost Bass Project suggests that it could have been stolen or lost either from the basement of Abbey Road Studios, or from the Apple Corps recording studio on Savile Row.

A representative for Paul McCartney declined a request for an interview. But Mr. Wass said he understood, from previous communications with Mr. McCartney, that he was keen to be reunited with the instrument. “He calls it the ancient one,” Mr. Wass said.

Among the leads they had received, Mr. Jones said, were suggestions that the instrument could have traveled to the United States or Japan. But he added that all the leads need to be vetted. “Somewhere among that information there is going to be the answer,” he said.

Other iconic instruments have been lost and found over the years — one close example being a Gibson acoustic guitar belonging to John Lennon, which was bought in 1962 and then lost the following year. Half a century later, it re-emerged and was sold at auction in 2015 to an anonymous buyer for $2.4 million.

It is unclear what the market value of Mr. McCartney’s missing guitar would be, but the team behind the search insists that the effort is not for monetary gain, calling the guitar “priceless.”

“We just want to know where it is,” said Mr. Wass.

[deityoftherain]

Traffic Life Superpowers AU Memes pt.2

Under the cut are a bunch of memes and silly character dynamic posts that I've made for my au, some from the perspective of being in universe making memes about their city's local superpower scene on the internet and some by us in our reality, under the cut that I posted in my discord server. There are spoilers for the fanfics in the series above, you have been warned!

Name Quick Guide hero villain vigilante/other civilian (look at #traffic life superpowers au or click on their name for more information on their powers and etc)

Tango is a vigilante named Phoenix Scott is a villain named Starflower Pearl is a villain named Scarlet Moon Lizzie is a hero named Shadowlady Etho is a hero named Slab Joel is a hero named Helter Skelter, or Hel Skel for short Skizz is a semiretired hero named Skizzleman BigB is more of a semiretired, private sector hero named Tip Martyn is a villain named Knight Ren is a villain named The Red King Cleo is more of a floater but is working with the heroes as of now named Zomblaze

Grian is a civilian working for the Traffic City Hero Agency as a therapist Scar is a civilian working at an animal shelter that he owns

Scarlet Moon and Starflower are a villain duo called "Galaxy Duo" The Red King and his Knight are a villain duo called "Dogwarts" Shadowlady, Slab, and Helter Skelter are a hero team that often work together

Anyway, can you tell I love them?

more memes and even more memes and the masterpost