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the-ferocious-kittyrose · 4 years ago

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My complicated opinion on Keith Kogane

Keith Kogane is definitely one of the more popular characters in the VLD fandom. People love brooding emo bad boys.

My feelings on Keith are... complicated. I definitely don’t hate him. I have a lot of problems with the character but I don’t think I could ever bring myself to actually hate him. Mainly because I kinda relate to him. We both have problems controlling our emotions, interacting with people, and making friends.

And we both have trouble believing there are people who truly have our best interests at heart and won’t abandon us because we’re a burden.

What I do hate is the way his character was written and the way it negatively impacted the characters around him.

There are definitely a lot of factors that contributed to VLD ending up the way it did. But to me, Keith and the writers insistence on pushing him to the forefront was the poison that killed the show.

Ok, before we get into this whole rant I feel like I should talk about the things I do like about Keith.

I like the premise of Keith’s character. He’s half Galra and never really fit in on Earth. He didn’t act like the other “normal” kids so kids made fun of him and adults didn’t want to deal with him. So in order to protect himself from the pain of rejection he would put up a tough angry facade and push people away and reject them before they could reject him.

This is something that really resonates with me personally having grown up neurodivergent. It’s awful growing up in a world that isn’t made for people like you and not knowing how to interact with or connect with your peers. Especially when you don’t know why you’re like that.

You learn to avoid social interaction because it always ends up negative. You put up walls because you don’t feel like anybody understands you or what you’re going through.

I know the writers probably didn’t intend to code Keith as neurodivergent. They just wanted Keith to be a hothead with abandonment issues, but nonetheless, this interpretation means a lot to me.

I also really like his relationship with Shiro. Keith is so used to being left behind and abandoned that when he meets someone like Shiro who’s patient and genuinely cares it’s new and strange. He’s so ready for Shiro to abandon him, even telling Shiro to send him back to the home, but Shiro refuses to leave him and tells Keith ethat he’s never going to give up on him.

It’s also interesting to see how their relationship develops over time. It’s clear Keith trusts Shiro, but you can tell that that fear of abandonment is still there deep down. In S2, Keith tells Shiro that he’s like a brother to him, and then in season 6, he takes the extra step and tells Shiro that he IS his brother and that he loves him. And for someone like Keith, telling their friend they love them is a big scary thing.

And also it’s just great to see a platonic “I love you,” especially between two guys. Don’t be afraid to tell your bros you love them!!!

Now let’s talk about the stuff I didn’t like.

Keith doesn’t have much going for him in terms of personality. He’s just sorta brooding and serious all the time. He does make jokes occasionally but it’s rare. The writers were more focused on making him cool and badass rather than fun.

I always loved the idea of Keith as a cocky carefree asshole who doesn’t give a shit about rules/laws and is kinda rude/aggressive but has a heart of gold deep down and would do anything for the people he cares about. (Just like a cat.)

I would also make him more alien esc. In terms of design I like the idea of Keith having red eyes with narrow pupils and fangs. And also just small things like the way he walks and holds himself. He growls and bears his teeth when he’s angry, his hair puffs up when scared, he’s fast and agile, disappearing and reappearing without making much noise, small things.

Then you have his race and sexuality. I have no doubt in my mind that Keith was intended to be a straight white dude. A lot of people see him as gay and Asian but there’s no evidence for this in canon. Acxa was originally intended to be his love interest and his race was never mentioned in canon. His name isn’t even Kogane in canon. (And the race of the voice actor doesn’t equal the race of the character. If that was the case Shiro, Hunk, and Lance would be white.)

They should’ve totally made Keith Japanese like he was in the original. It would’ve been so easy! Just canonize Kogane as his last name and have the book say he’s half Japanese half Galra. They could’ve also done what they did with Shiro and keep his og GoLion name. Just have him be Akira Kogane. Definitely cooler than “Keith.”

And as for his sexuality, I definitely think they should’ve had Keith be gay. But well get to that Later...

I also don’t like how they handled the whole Krolia thing. Not only was it crazy rushed, but it completely goes against the shows theme of found family.

Keith’s arc should’ve been about overcoming his abandonment issues and learning to accept the paladins as family. But instead they just get rid of the abandonment issues by just giving him his mom back.

I know a lot of people love Krolia but I don’t feel like she should’ve been introduced in anything other than flashbacks. Because Keith’s mom isn’t really that important. The show is about found family and friendship, not blood relation.

You can definitely have Keith learn about his mom and his family, but I feel like giving him his mom back was too much.

Personally, I always headcanoned that Kolivan was Keith’s grandfather or just a close friend of Krolia’s, and when Keith showed up at the Blade’s base Kolivan recognized the blade as his Krolia’s. Keith could learn about his mom through Kolivan telling him about her, how she was a great person and warrior who died fighting to make the universe a safer place for her son.

Another thing I didn’t like was the whole Keith leaving the team for the Blades thing. I know why he did it, he felt like the team was gonna reject him, he wanted to be more useful, and wanted to learn about his family, but I feel like you could’ve touched on all that without having him abandon his team.

One of the biggest problems with the show is that they did a bad job at establishing the paladins as friends, they feel like coworkers more than anything, and I feel like Keith being absent for two seasons contributed to that.

And his absence is hardly addressed. The team forms Voltron perfectly without him and no one ever says they miss him. Keith doesn’t even seem like he missed them after being gone for two years.

And a lot of the weight was taken out of that Keith v Kuron fight by the fact that Keith and Kuron hardly interacted.

That whole thing amounted to four things, Keith meeting Krolia (which I don’t think should’ve happened), them finding the colony (which was a dumb plot I don’t think should’ve happened), Keith aging up two years (which was weird and unnecessary), and Keith meeting Kosmo (which is... complicated).

I don’t think this plot was necessary. Keith should’ve stayed with his team.

Then you have his relationship with Lance. I know people are very sensitive about this topic. People have very strong opinions about whether or not Keith and Lance were intended to be romantically coded.

Personally, I do like Klance but I don’t believe they were romantically coded. I think if you want them to get together some things would have to go differently.

For example, the bonding moment. In canon, Lance tells Keith, “we make a good team.” I don’t see this as referring to him and Keith. I think he was talking about the whole team. If you want it to be about the two of them, I feel like it should be Lance telling Keith something like, “ya know, you’re not so bad after all,” and then Keith smiles and responds, “you’re not so bad yourself.”

Another example could be the scene where Lance comes to Keith with his insecurities. (Whether it’s as a leader or a friend.) This scene was weird in canon, Lance comes to Keith for advice and Keith basically tells him to just stop thinking about it.

I would prefer if Lance brought up to Keith how he doesn’t feel like he’s good enough or that he doesn’t have, “a thing,” and Keith is completely dumbfounded like, “what are you even talking about?” He goes on about all the good shit about Lance. Talks about how Blue chose him, how he’s a great shot, how he’s good at dealing with people, meanwhile Lance is standing there in shock as Keith says all these nice things about him.

Over all you would just have to develop their relationship more. More meaningful interactions. And if you want the relationship to be romantic you would have to establish that early on. Establish that one or both has romantic feelings for the other in like S1/S2 because if you wait too long it’s gonna feel forced/out of no where.

And then... you have the Black Paladin arc... I’m gonna be real with y’all, this is the arc that killed the show for me, for a few reasons.

One, even ignoring the whole quintessence bond thing, it makes no sense for Keith to be the bp. He doesn’t fit the role. I adore Shiro but choosing Keith as his successor was a dumb move. I get that he saw potential in Keith but they’re are fighting a war, there’s no room for favoritism.

Shiro should’ve chosen Allura as his successor. Not only does she have actual leadership experience, but you would only have one paladin in a new Lion instead of three.

If a lifeguard breaks his leg and can’t work, he should choose an experienced swimmers to take his place, not his little bro that’s still in water wings in the hopes that it’ll teach him to swim.

Two, Keith being the bp doesn’t help his arc. Keith’s arc is about overcoming his abandonment issues and learning to be a team player, he doesn’t need to be the leader for that.

VLD should’ve been about the paladins growing into the best versions of themselves they could be. Their development shown by unlocking new abilities in their respective lions, new forms for their bayards, and new Voltron bayard power ups. They shouldn’t have to change lions and themselves.

Keith and Red have a strong bond and work great together. Keith and Red are both temperamental, unpredictable, and have issues with trust. Keith having to fight to get Red to trust and open up to him mirrors how others have to fight to earn Keith’s trust and get him to let down his walls.

It would’ve been interesting to see them grow together. Keith has no emotional connection with Black.

We never even get to see them bond. Keith just suddenly becomes the “perfect” bp/leader because he got over his mommy issues

Three, it’s a MASSIVE disservice to Shiro’s character. Shiro put all the work in earning his position as the bp, he literally fits fought Zarkon on the astral plane to earn her trust, yet Keith is the true bp? What?

It sucks. Sendak told Shiro that a monster like him could never be a paladin and the writers went and proved him right. Hell Shiro didn’t even get to kill Sendak, Keith got that too.

And don’t tell me, “but he got the Atlas!�� REALLY!? A massive Deus ex machina that required absolutely no effort from him to acquire!? Filled with a bunch of rando background characters no one gives a shit about!? You’re totally right, that 100% makes up for it.

I could go on and on about how the treatment of Shiro in this show (and fandom) is blatantly ableist but that’s a rant for another time.

It sucks. I want to like Keith! He had the potential to be an amazing character but the writers just kept on trying to turn him into something he wasn’t and it ruined him for me.

They kept trying to turn Keith into the main character and ignored that ALL the paladins are the main characters. It’s an ensemble cast! You don’t have to have everything come back to one guy.

#voltron #voltron legendary defender #voltron legendary discourse #vld #vld critical #keith kogane #keith vld #red paladin keith #klance #krolia #black paladin shiro #takashi shirogane #vld shiro #black lion #red lion #galra #galra keith #blade of marmora

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penbalfour · 4 years ago

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Chapter One (x)

“Lower your swords,” Queen Eloana commanded, her hair shining a glossy onyx in the sun as she sank onto one knee. The raw emotion pouring out of her seeped into the temple floors of the Chamber of Nyktos, bitter and hot, tasting of anguish and a helpless sort of anger. It stretched out toward me, needling my skin and brushing against this…primal thing inside me. “And bow before the…before the last descendent of the most ancient ones. She who carries the blood of the King of Gods within her. Bow before your new Queen.”

The blood of the King of Gods? Your new Queen? None of that made sense. Not her words or when she had removed her crown.

A too-thin breath scorched my throat as I looked at the man standing beside the Queen of Atlantia. The crown was still upon the King’s golden-haired head, but the bones had remained a bleached white. Nothing like the gleaming, gilded one the Queen had placed at the feet of the statue of Nyktos. My gaze skipped over the terrible, broken things scattered about the once pristine, white floors. I’d done that to them, adding their blood to what had fallen from the sky, filling the thin fissures in the marble. I didn’t look at that or anyone else—every part of my being focused on him.

He remained on one knee, staring up at me from between the vee of the swords he’d crossed over his chest. His damp hair, blue-black in the Atlantian sunlight, curled against the sandy-hued skin of his forehead. Red streaked those high, angular cheekbones, the proud curve of his jaw, and ran down lips that had once shattered my heart. Lips that had pieced those broken shards back together with the truth. Bright, golden eyes locked with mine, and even bowed before me, so motionless I wasn’t sure he breathed, he still reminded me of one of the wild and strikingly beautiful cave cats I’d once seen caged in Queen Ileana’s palace as a child.

He had been many things to me. A stranger in a dimly lit room who’d been my first kiss. A guard who had sworn to lay down his life for mine. A friend who had looked beyond the veil of the Maiden to truly see me underneath, who’d handed me a sword to protect myself instead of forcing me into a gilded cage. A legend cloaked in darkness and nightmares that had plotted to betray me. A Prince of a kingdom believed to have been lost to time and war, who had suffered unimaginable horrors and yet managed to find the pieces of who he used to be. A brother who would do anything, commit any deed to save his family. His people. A man who bared his soul and stripped open his heart to me—and only me.

My first.

My guard.

My friend.

My betrayer.

My partner.

My husband.

My heartmate.

My everything.

Casteel Da’Neer bowed before me and stared up at me as if I were the only person in the entire kingdom. I didn’t need to concentrate like before to know what he was feeling. Everything he felt was wide-open to me. His emotions were a kaleidoscope of ever-shifting tastes—cool and tart, heavy and spicy, and sweet like chocolate-dipped berries. Those unyieldingly firm and unrelentingly tender lips parted, revealing just the hint of sharp fangs.

“My Queen,” he breathed, and those two smoky words soothed my skin. The lilt of his voice quelled the ancient thing inside me that wanted to take the anger and the fear radiating from all the others and twist it, turn it back, truly give them something to fear, and add to the shattered things thrown about the floor. One side of his lips curled up, and a deep dimple appeared in his right cheek.

Dizzy with relief at the sight of that infuriatingly stupid—and adorable—dimple, my entire body shuddered. I feared that when he saw what I’d done, he’d be afraid. And I couldn’t blame him for that. What I’d done should terrify anyone, but not Casteel. The heat that turned his eyes the color of warmed honey told me that fear was very much the furthest thing from his mind. Which was also a little disturbing. But he was the Dark One, whether he liked being called that or not.

Some of the shock faded, and the pounding adrenaline eased. And when it left, I realized I hurt. My shoulder and the side of my head throbbed. The left side of my face felt puffy, and that had nothing to do with the old scars there. A dull ache pulsed in my legs and arms, and my body felt funny, as if my knees were weakening. I swayed in the warm, salty breeze—

Casteel rose quickly, and I shouldn’t have been surprised by how fast he moved, but I still was. In a heartbeat, he’d gone from kneeling to standing, a foot closer to me, and several things happened at once.

The men and women behind Casteel’s parents, the ones wearing the same white tunics and loose pants of those lying on the floor, also moved. Light reflected off the golden armbands adorning their biceps as they lifted their swords, shifting closer to Casteel’s parents, protecting them. Some reached for crossbows strapped to their backs. They had to be guards of some sort.

A sudden growl of warning came from the largest wolven I’d ever seen. Kieran and Vonetta’s father stood to my right. Jasper had officiated the marriage between Casteel and me in Spessa’s End. He’d been there when Nyktos showed his approval by briefly turning day to night. But now, the steel-hued wolven’s lips peeled back, baring teeth that could tear through flesh and break bone. He was loyal to Casteel, and yet instinct told me that it wasn’t just the guards he warned.

Another snarl came from my left. In the shadows of the blood tree that had sprouted from where my blood had fallen and grown to a massive height within seconds, a fawn-colored wolven crept into my line of sight, head dipped low, and wintery blue eyes iridescent. Kieran. He stared down Casteel. I didn’t understand why either of them would behave this way toward the Prince, but especially Kieran. He had been bonded to Casteel from birth, meant to obey and protect him at all costs. But he was more than a bonded wolven to Casteel. They were brothers, if not by blood then by friendship, and I knew they loved each other.

Right now, nothing about the way Kieran’s ears were pinned back was loving.

Unease skipped its way through me as Kieran sank down, the sleek muscles of his legs tensing as he prepared to attack…Casteel.

My stomach plummeted. This wasn’t right. None of this was right. “No,” I rasped, my voice hoarse and barely recognizable, even to my ears.

Kieran didn’t appear to hear me or care. If he had been acting normally, I would’ve just assumed he was attempting to ignore me, but this was different. He was different. His eyes were brighter than I ever remembered seeing, and they weren’t right because they…they weren’t just blue now. His pupils glowed silvery-white, an aura that seeped out in wispy tendrils across the blue. My head jerked to Jasper. His eyes had changed, too. I’d seen that strange light before. It had been what my skin had done when I healed Beckett’s broken legs—the same silvery glow that had radiated from me minutes earlier.

Icy bursts of surprise raced through Casteel as he eyed the wolven, and then I felt…relief radiate from him.

“You all knew.” Casteel’s voice filled with awe, something no one standing behind him felt. Even the easy grin was absent from the auburn-haired Atlantian. Emil looked at us with wide eyes, broadcasting a healthy dose of fear, as did Naill, who had always appeared utterly unfazed by everything—even when he’d been outnumbered in battle.

Casteel slowly sheathed his swords at his sides. Hands empty, he kept them down. “You all knew something was happening to her. That’s why….” He trailed off, his jaw hardening.

Several of the guards moved to the front of the King and Queen, surrounding them fully—

A shock of white fur shot forward. Delano tucked his tail back as he pawed at the marble. He lifted his head and howled. The eerie yet beautiful sound raised the tiny hairs all over my body.

Off in the distance, the faint sounds of yips and barks answered, growing louder with each second. The leaves on the tall, cone-shaped trees separating the temple from Saion’s Cove trembled as a rolling rumble echoed from the ground below. Blue-and-yellow-winged birds took flight from the trees, scattering to the sky.

“Godsdamn.” Emil turned to the temple steps. He reached for the swords at his sides. “They’re summoning the whole damn city.”

“It’s her.” The deep scar slicing across the older wolven’s forehead stood out starkly. Potent disbelief rolled off Alastir as he stood just outside the circle of guards who’d formed around Casteel’s parents.

“It is not her,” Casteel shot back.

“But it is,” King Valyn confirmed as he stared at me from a face that Casteel’s would one day become. “They’re responding to her. That’s why the ones on the road with us shifted without warning. She called them to her.”

“I…I didn’t call anyone,” I told Casteel, voice cracking.

“I know.” Casteel’s tone softened as his eyes locked with mine.

“But she did,” his mother insisted. “You might not realize it, but you did summon them.”

My eyes darted to her, and I felt my chest wrench. She was everything I’d imagined Casteel’s mother to be. Stunning. Regal. Powerful. Calm now, even as she remained on one knee, even when she had first seen me and demanded of her son—What have you’ve done? What have you brought back? I flinched, fearing those words would stay with me long after today.

Casteel’s features sharpened as golden eyes swept over my face. “If the idiots behind me actually laid down their swords instead of lifting them against my wife, we wouldn’t have an entire colony of wolven about to descend on us,” he bit out. “They are only reacting to the threat.”

“You’re right,” his father agreed as he gently guided his wife to her feet. Blood soaked the knee and the hem of her lilac gown. “But ask yourself why your bonded wolven is guarding someone other than you.”

“I really could care less at the moment,” Casteel responded as the sound of hundreds—if not more—of paws pounding the earth grew even closer. He couldn’t be serious. He had to care, because that was a damn good question.

“You need to care,” his mother cautioned, a thin quiver in her otherwise steady voice. “The bonds have broken.”

The bonds? Hands trembling, my wide eyes shot to the temple steps, to where Emil slowly backed away. Naill had his swords in his hands now.

“She’s right,” Alastir uttered, the skin around his mouth appearing even whiter. “I can… I can feel it—the Primal notam. Her mark. Good gods.” His voice trembled as he stumbled back, nearly stepping on the crown. “They’ve all broken.”

I had no idea what a notam was, but through the confusion and the blossoming panic, there was something odd about what Alastir had stated. If it was true, then why wasn’t he in his wolven form? Was it because he’d already broken his wolven bond with the former King of Atlantia all those years ago?

“Look at their eyes,” the Queen ordered softly, pointing out what I’d seen. “I know you don’t understand. There are things you never needed to learn, Hawke.” Her voice cracked then, thickened at the use of his nickname—a name I’d once believed to be nothing more than a lie. “But what you need to know now is that they no longer serve the Elemental bloodline. You are not safe. Please,” she begged. “Please. Listen to me, Hawke.”

“How?” I croaked. “How could the bond break?”

“That doesn’t matter right now.” The amber of Casteel’s eyes was nearly luminous. “You’re bleeding,” he said as if that were the most important issue at hand.

But it wasn’t. “How?” I repeated.

“It’s what you are.” Eloana’s left hand balled into the skirt of her gown. “You have the blood of a god in you—”

“I’m mortal,” I told her.

A thick lock of dark hair tumbled from her knot as she shook her head. “Yes, you are mortal, but you are descended from a deity—the children of the gods. All it takes is a drop of god’s blood—” She swallowed thickly. “You may have more than just a drop, but what is in your blood, what is in you, supersedes any oath the wolven have taken.”

I remembered then what Kieran had told me in New Haven about the wolven. The gods had given the once-wild kiyou wolves mortal form to serve as guides and protectors to the children of the gods—the deities. Something else Kieran had shared then explained the Queen’s reaction.

My gaze shot to the crown lying near Nyktos’ feet. A drop of deity blood usurped any claim to the Atlantian throne.

Oh, gods, there was a good chance I really might pass out. And how embarrassing would that be?

Eloana’s gaze shifted to her son’s rigid back. “You go near her? Right now? They will see you as a threat to her. They will rip you apart.”

My heart lurched to a panicked stop. Casteel looked as if he might do just that. Behind me, one of the smaller wolven lurched forward, barking and snapping at the air.

Every muscle in my body tensed. “Casteel—”

“It’s okay.” Casteel’s eyes never left mine. “No one is going to harm Poppy. I will not allow that.” His chest rose with a deep, heavy breath. “And you know that, right?”

I nodded as each breath came too fast, too shallowly. It was the only thing I understood at the moment.

“Everything’s all right. They’re just protecting you.” Casteel smiled for me then, but it was tense and tight. He looked to my left, at Kieran. “I don’t know everything that is going on right now, but you—all of you—want to keep her safe. And I’m all about that. You know I would never hurt her. I would tear out my own heart before I did that. She’s injured. I need to make sure she’s okay, and nothing is going to stop me from doing that.” He didn’t blink as he held Kieran’s stare, as the rolling thunder of the other wolven reached the temple steps. “Not even you. Any of you. I will destroy every single one of you who stands between her and me.”

Kieran’s growl deepened, and an emotion I’d never felt from him before poured into me. It was like anger, but older. And it felt like that buzz in my blood had. Ancient. Primal.

And in an instant, I could see it all playing out in my mind as if it were happening before me. Kieran would attack. Or maybe it would be Jasper. I’d seen what kind of damage a wolven could inflict, but Casteel wouldn’t go down easily. He would do just as he’d promised. He’d tear through all that stood between him and me. Wolven would die, and if he harmed Kieran—if he did worse than that, the wolven’s blood wouldn’t just be on Casteel’s hands. It would mark his soul till the day he died.

A wave of wolven crested the temple’s stairs, both small and large, in so many different colors. Their arrival brought terrifying knowledge. Casteel was incredibly strong and unbelievably fast. He would take down many. But he would fall with them.

He would die.

Casteel would die because of me—because I called to these wolven and didn’t know how to make it stop. My heart thumped erratically. A wolven near the steps stalked Emil as he continued backing up. Another tracked Naill as he spoke softly to the wolven, attempting to reason with the creature. The others had zeroed in on the guards surrounding the King and Queen, and a few…. Oh, gods, several of them crept up behind Casteel. This had slipped into chaos, the wolven beyond control of any of them…

I sucked in a sharp breath as my mind raced, breaking free of the pain and turbulence. Something had happened within me to make that drop of god’s blood break the bonds. I superseded their previous oaths, and that had…it had to mean that they now obeyed me.

“Stop,” I ordered as Kieran snapped at Casteel, whose own lips were now peeled back. “Kieran! Stop! You will not hurt Casteel.” My voice rose as a soft hum returned to my blood. “All of you will stop. Now! None of you will attack.”

It was like a switch had been thrown in the wolven’s minds. One second they were all poised to attack, and then they were sinking onto their bellies, lowering their heads between their front paws. I could still feel their anger, the old power, but it had lessened already, was fading in steady waves.

Emil lowered his sword. “That…that was timely. Thank you for that.”

A ragged breath left me as a tremor traveled up and down my arms. I almost couldn’t believe it’d worked as I scanned the temple, seeing all the wolven lying down. My entire being wanted to rebel against further confirmation of what the Queen had claimed, but gods, there was only so much I could deny. Throat dry, I looked at Casteel.

He stared at me, his eyes wide once more. I couldn’t breathe enough. My heart wouldn’t slow enough for me to make sense of what he was feeling.

“He will not hurt me. You all know that,” I said, my voice shaking as I looked at Jasper and then Kieran. “You told me that he was the only person in both kingdoms that I was safe with. That hasn’t changed.”

Kieran’s ears twitched, and then he rose, backing up. He turned, nudging my hand with his nose.

“Thank you,” I whispered, briefly closing my eyes.

“Just so you know,” Casteel murmured, thick lashes lowered halfway, “what you just did? Said? It has me feeling all kinds of wildly inappropriate things at the moment.”

A weak, shaky laugh left me. “There’s something so wrong with you.”

“I know.” The left side of his lips curved, and his dimple appeared. “But you love that about me.”

I did. Gods, I really did.

Jasper shook out his fur as his large head swung from me to Casteel. He turned sideways, making a rough, huffing sound as he did. The other wolven moved then, coming out from behind the blood tree. I watched them trot past me—past Casteel and the others—ears perked and tails wagging as they joined the wolven descending the steps and left the temple. Only Jasper, his son, and Delano remained, and the feeling of chaotic tension lifted.

A thick lock of dark hair fell over Casteel’s forehead. “You were glowing silver again. When you ordered the wolven to stop,” he told me. “Not a lot, not like before, but you looked like spun moonlight.”

Had I been? I glanced down at my hands. They looked normal. “I…I don’t know what’s happening,” I whispered, my legs shaking. “I don’t know what’s going on.” I lifted my eyes to his and watched him take a step forward, and then another. There were no snarls of warning. Nothing. My throat started to burn. I could feel it—tears creeping into my eyes. I couldn’t cry. I wouldn’t. Everything had already turned into enough of a mess without me sobbing hysterically. But I was so tired. I hurt, and it went beyond the physical.

When I first stepped into this temple and looked out over the clear waters of the Seas of Saion, I’d felt like I was home. And I knew things would be hard. Proving our union was real wouldn’t be nearly as difficult as gaining the acceptance of Casteel’s parents and that of his kingdom. We still needed to find his brother, Prince Malik. And mine. We had to deal with the Ascended Queen and King. Nothing about our future would be easy, but I had hope.

Now, I felt foolish. So naïve. The older wolven in Spessa’s End, the one I’d helped heal after the battle, had warned me about the people of Atlantia. They did not choose you. And I now doubted they ever would.

I drew in a stuttering breath and whispered, “I didn’t want any of this.”

Tension bracketed Casteel’s mouth. “I know.” His voice was rough, but his touch was gentle as he placed his palm over the cheek that didn’t feel swollen. He lowered his forehead to mine, and the shock of awareness his flesh against mine brought was there, rippling through me as he slid his hand into the tangled mess of my hair. “I know, Princess,” he whispered, and I squeezed my eyes shut against a stronger rush of tears. “It’s okay. It will all be okay. I promise you that.”

I nodded, even though I knew it wasn’t something he could guarantee. Not anymore. I forced myself to swallow the knot of emotion that rose.

Casteel kissed my blood-streaked brow and then lifted his head. “Emil? Can you retrieve clothing from Delano’s and Kieran’s horses so they can shift and not scar anyone?”

“I’ll be more than happy to do that,” the Atlantian answered.

I almost laughed. “I think their nakedness will be the least scarring thing to happen today.”

Casteel said nothing as he touched my cheek again, gently tilting my head to the side. His gaze then dropped to several of the rocks still littering the ground at my feet. A muscle popped along his jaw. His eyes lifted to mine, and I saw his pupils were dilated, only a thin strip of amber visible. “They tried to stone you?”

I heard a soft gasp I thought had come from his mother, but I didn’t look. I didn’t want to see their faces. I didn’t want to know what they felt right now. “They accused me of working with the Ascended, and they called me a Soul Eater. I told them I wasn’t. I tried to talk to them.” Words spilled out in a rush as I lifted my hands to touch him, but I stopped. I didn’t know what my touch would do. Hell, I didn’t even know what I would do without touching someone. “I tried to reason with them, but they started throwing stones. I told them to stop. I said it was enough, and…I don’t know what I did—” I started to look over his shoulder, but Casteel seemed to know what it was I searched for. He stopped me. “I didn’t mean to kill them.”

“You were defending yourself.” His pupils constricted as he caught my stare. “You did what you had to do. You were defending yourself—”

“But I didn’t touch them, Casteel,” I whispered. “It was like in Spessa’s End, during the battle. Remember the soldiers who surrounded us? When they fell, I felt something in me. I felt that again here. It was like something inside me knew what to do. I took their anger and I—I did exactly what a Soul Eater would do. I took it from them and then gave it back.”

“You are not a Soul Eater,” Queen Eloana said from somewhere not too far away. “The moment the eather in your blood became visible, those who attacked you should’ve known exactly what you were. What you are.”

“Eather?”

“It’s what some would call magic,” Casteel answered, shifting his stance as if he were blocking his mother from me. “You’ve seen it before.”

“The mist?”

He nodded. “It’s the essence of the gods, what’s in their blood, what gives them their abilities and the power to create all that they have. No one really calls it that anymore, not since the gods went to sleep, and the deities died off.” His eyes searched mine. “I should have known. Gods, I should’ve seen it…”

“You can say that now,” his mother spoke. “But why would you have even thought that this would be a possibility? No one would’ve expected this.”

“Except for you,” Casteel said. And he was right. She’d known, without a doubt. And, granted, I had been glowing upon her arrival, but she’d known with unquestioned certainty.

“I can explain,” she said as Emil appeared, carrying two saddlebags. He gave all of us a wide berth as he dropped them near Jasper and then backed away.

“Apparently, a lot needs to be explained,” Casteel remarked coolly. “But it will have to wait.” His gaze touched on my left cheek, and that muscle throbbed along his jaw again. “I need to get you somewhere safe where I can…. Where I can take care of you.”

“You can take her to your old rooms at my place,” Jasper announced, startling me. I hadn’t even heard him shift. I started to look over at him but saw skin as he reached for the saddlebag.

“That will do.” Casteel took what appeared to be a pair of breeches from Jasper. “Thank you.”

“Will it be safe for you there?” I asked, and a wry grin tugged at Casteel’s lips.

“He’ll be safe there,” Kieran answered.

So shocked by the sound of Kieran’s voice, I turned. And didn’t stop. There was a whole lot of tawny skin on display, but he stood there like he wasn’t naked in front of all who remained. For once, I really had no problem ignoring the fact that he was nude. I looked at his eyes. They were normal—a vivid, striking blue without the silvery-white aura. “You were going to attack Casteel.”

Kieran nodded as he took the pants from Casteel.

“He most definitely was,” Casteel confirmed.

I looked back at my husband. “And you threatened to destroy him.”

The dimple in his left cheek appeared again. “I did.”

“Why are you smiling? That isn’t something that should make you smile.” I stared at him, stupid tears burning my eyes. I didn’t care that we had an audience. “That can never happen again. Do you hear me?” I twisted to Kieran, who arched a brow as he pulled his breeches up over his lean hips. “Do you both hear me? I won’t allow it. I won’t—”

“Shh.” Casteel’s light touch to my cheek drew my gaze back to his as he stepped into me. He was close enough that his chest brushed mine with each breath. “It won’t happen again, Poppy.” His thumb quickly swiped under my left eye. “Right?”

“Right.” Kieran cleared his throat. “I don’t…” He fell quiet.

His father didn’t. “As long as the Prince doesn’t give any of us a reason to behave differently, we will protect him as fiercely as we will protect you.”

We. As in the entirety of the wolven race. That’s what Alastir had meant when he’d said that all the bonds had broken. I had a lot of questions, but I plopped my head on Casteel’s chest. It didn’t feel that great, sending a flare of pain across my head. I didn’t care because when I inhaled, all I smelled was lush spice and pine. Casteel carefully folded an arm around my upper back, and I thought… I thought I felt him shudder against me.

“Wait,” Kieran said. “Where is Beckett? He was with you when you walked off.”

Casteel drew back slightly. “That’s right. He offered to show you the temple.” His eyes narrowed as he stared down at me. “He led you here.”

A wave of goosebumps pimpled my skin. Beckett. Pressure clamped down on my chest, squeezing tightly as I thought of the young wolven who’d spent the vast majority of the trip here chasing butterflies. I still couldn’t believe that he had led me here, knowing what awaited. But I remembered the bitter taste of his fear that day in Spessa’s End. He’d been terrified of me.

Or had he been terrified of something else?

His emotions had been all over the place. He’d gone from being normal around me, happy and grinning, to suddenly afraid and anxious, as he had been when he brought me up here.

“He disappeared before the others showed up,” I told Casteel. “I don’t know where he went.”

“Find Beckett,” he ordered, and Delano, still in his wolven form, tilted his head. “Naill? Emil? Go with him. Make sure Beckett is brought to me alive.”

Both Atlantians nodded and bowed. Nothing about Casteel’s tone suggested that the alive part was a good thing. “He’s just a kid.” I watched Delano rush off, quickly disappearing with Naill and Emil. “He was scared. And now that I think about it—”

“Poppy.” Casteel placed the tips of his fingers against my cheek, just below a spot that ached. He dipped his head, brushing his lips over the cut. “I have two things to say. If Beckett had anything to do with this, I don’t care what or who he is, and I sure as fuck don’t care about what he was feeling.” His voice rose until all who remained at the temple could hear him, including his parents.

“A move against my wife is a proclamation of war against me. Their fate is already sealed. And, secondly?” He lowered his head even farther. This time, his lips brushed over mine in a featherlight kiss. I could barely feel it, but it somehow still managed to twist my insides into knots. He then lifted his head, and I saw it in his features—the stark stillness of a predator locking onto its prey. I’d seen it before, right before he’d torn out Landell’s heart back in New Haven.

Casteel turned his head to the side, looking at the only wolven who remained, now standing on two legs. “You.”

#casteel da'neer #hawke flynn #poppy balfour #penellaphe balfour #cas x poppy #hawke x poppy #the crown of gilded bones #blood and ash series #jennifer l armentrout #TCOGB

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zinzinina · 3 years ago

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SAM AAAAAHHH CONGRATS ON 500 YEEHAW i'm so excited for this matchmaking truly. maybe u can give me someone who will break my streak of no long term relationships 😌 okay here r my answers:

i'd probably a cat. most days i just wanna chill out and lie in the sun and not be bothered. i can be particular about things like who i want to interact with, what i want to eat, etc. people have told me i come off as intimidating, but in reality i just want to be loved and held and cherished.

ideal night out: i’m out with my friends, people who know me, and maybe some strangers mixed in. we are sitting at an outdoor table, knees knocking into each other because we are so close, gabbing about things that don’t really matter but are important Right Now. string lights illuminate our faces, flushed with the buzz of alcohol. someone lets me try their raspberry marg. it’s warm but not hot enough to make me sweat. i feel like i’m a part of something.

ideal day in: either by myself or with the person i cherish the most, lazily sprawled on the couch or bed as we watch our favorite movies. it’s raining, but no thunder rolls by. just the pitter-patter of rain on the windows and the din of the television fills the room. the bass is turned up way too loud so when the sound hits that low pitch, the whole house shakes. i’ve seen all these films before, but i never tire of them. we're at a part that makes me cry and i don't feel embarrassed.

3 qualities: Good communication, emotional competency, hardcore stroke game JUST KIDDING uuuhh not afraid to laugh at themselves

sam u must know this song one is the hardest question for me so i’m gonna give u 3 options: Don’t Delete The Kisses by Wolf Alice, Pool by Samia, and Susie Save Your Love by Allie X & Mitski.

personal hell: none of the people i care about remember me, or else they tell me they don’t actually like me and they ignore me

Vee, my love! We have a match!

Okay, hear me out on this. Poe has absolutely no problem with telling you everything about how he feels. There’s a common misconception that he’s avoidant or flippant somehow when it comes to emotional connection; not so. He feels everything -- deeply, and doesn’t believe in wasting time fucking around. He’ll tell you the second he realises he’s falling in love with you without even a twinge of embarrassment or hesitation, and he won’t be offended when you laugh at his earnestness, grinning back at you, waiting for your response. One thing that makes Poe so effortlessly cool is that fact that he isn’t. He’ll laugh at his own stupid jokes and let you tease him relentlessly for trying to look suave in some vintage jacket from the old Empire days, insisting it’s fashionable despite the musty smell, interrupting you to kiss you when he gets caught up in the way your eyes flash whenever you’re giving him shit. (And let’s not pretend the stroke game doesn’t matter, babe, trust me. I got you on that.)

For your date, he’s taking you back to his family’s old place on Yavin 4, still stocked with retro hologames and (slightly musty) Jawa juice. The colony is still fairly small here; a few other families you nod to in the evenings as you pass, sandals in your hands, but for the most part you’re alone. You’ve got the whole weekend together in the rainforest; laying for warm, lazy hours beside one of the shallow pools under the roar of a waterfall, sticky with humidity and each other’s limbs. He'll be loudly indignant at how well you kick his ass at the hologames, demanding to switch controllers more than once before he decides the problem isn’t the controller after all, it’s you -- which is when he adopts a tactic of sabotage, trying to make your concentration slip in an entirely new way. He is Very competitive, after all.

Thank you for using Sam’s Star Wars Matchmaking Service™️! Click here to see testimonials from more of our happy customers. May the Spires Keep You! x

#sam’s matchmaking service #delusionsxfgrandeur #zinzinina

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nerdyfangirl67 · 4 years ago

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Please Don’t Leave - NCIS Reader Insert

Pairing: Gibbs x little girl (fatherly relationship), very slight reference to a McGee x reader relationship

Warnings: mentions of murder and breaking and entering, brief mentions of social services and foster families, Soft!Gibbs, broken rules

Word count: 1556

Requested by: @gibbsandpridegirl - go check her out! She’s awesome!

Gibbs discovers a little girl at a crime scene who is deaf, and upon learning more of her backstory, he begins to bond with her. The guardians she was staying with were killed in a break and enter, both her actual parents were killed while deployed.

A/N: okay you guys, this one is kinda in a weird format (mostly Gibbs point of view, but with a little McGee x reader insert of sorts at the end) but I couldn’t write it without the ending I gave it because for some reason it just felt right. So I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did writing it, once I finally started it 😬😆 As always, my requests are opeeen! 😊

He had been ready to go home hours ago, after the last crappy cup of coffee he’d had. The day was long and had been full of pointless, endless paperwork. But it seemed that a made for TV Western and a pan-fried steak was out of the cards.

The call had come in about a break and enter, with two victims, on the Naval Base just an hour before. Although the team had been at the office all day, they were called out to the scene to investigate.

He wasn’t particularly happy to be trudging out on a cold, wet night but that quickly changed when he realized that there weren’t just two victims.

After having a quick conversation with Ducky about the cause of death of the two victims, who, after McGee ran their prints, turned out to be a man and his wife in their late thirties, he had made his way through the rest of the house.

He had been following protocol, looking through the house for any evidence but upon reaching the bathroom, he was glad he had chosen to walk through the house, rather than have DiNozzo or McGee do it.

Huddled between the wall and the large clawfoot tub was a little girl, no older than seven. She had her head tucked into her arms and her knees drawn tight to her chest.

“Hi there.” He rumbled quietly, not wanting to scare the girl. She didn’t answer or even show that she had heard him.

He kneeled down in front of her, making sure he moved slowly so as to not startle her. “I’m Agent Gibbs with the NCIS.” He kept his voice low and quiet.

She still didn’t respond and he felt a wave of fear wash over him at the thought that maybe she wasn’t responding because she couldn’t. She hadn’t even shifted since he had found her and he was starting to worry.

On a whim he pounded his hands down three times on the floor, immediately causing the girl to lift her head and scramble back against the wall, squeezing herself tighter into the corner. When she got as far from him as she could, she turned her blazing brown eyes to his.

He watched her intently for a moment before beginning to sign to her.

I’m Agent Gibbs, I’m sort of like a policeman. He signed slowly, hoping the girl knew what he said. What’s your name?

She stared at him for a while longer before her hands began to move rapidly in response. My name is Anastasia. What happened to Paul and Gina?

He knew she was talking about the couple downstairs, who were, at this point, probably on their way back to Ducky’s lab for their autopsies. He opens and closes his mouth, at a loss for words. How would he tell a little girl that those she loved and those that had cared for her since her parents’ death were dead? How could he break her heart when she was already falling apart?

Anastasia, he signs slowly, partially trying to delay the inevitable and partially trying to memorize the look on the girl’s face before he destroys what was left of her family and her life. They are gone. The person who broke in hurt them. He hopes the little girl was smart enough to understand what he meant because, despite his hard exterior, he didn’t want to have to explain it to her in more detail. He didn’t want her to have this moment engrained in her memory for the rest of her life.

Tears started to bead in her dark brown eyes, which had lost the fire they had had only moments before. Like Mommy and Daddy? She signed hesitantly, as she worked to fight back the sobs bubbling in her chest.

He gave her a slight nod in response and it caused her to shuffle tighter in her corner as sobs wracked her little body. He saw this and before he could register what he was doing, she was pulled close to his chest as he rocked her back and forth. He tucked her head into his chest and hummed softly, hoping the vibrations in his chest would help calm her.

After a few minutes on the bathroom floor with the girl, he knew at this point Ducky and Palmer would be long gone from the crime scene, so he scooped up the girl in his arms and headed towards the first floor of the house. She clung tightly to his neck, keeping her head tucked to his chest as he carried her outside, making sure to wrap her in his jacket before moving out into the dark, wet night. He deposited her gently on the front seat of his Charger, making sure to recline the seat enough for her to be comfortable. He grabbed one of his old sweatshirts that was on the floor in the backseat and wrapped her up in that as he took back his jacket.

He went to shut the door of the car when she let out a hoarse, pleading, “Please, don’t leave.” He turned back to her, a soft smile on his lips as he rested a gentle hand on her head. He then signed, I’m going to be right outside the door here. I want you to stay warm.

She eyed him before cautiously nodding her head. He ran a gentle hand over her head one last time before softly closing the door to the car.

He stayed right beside the door, just as he promised her he would, and proceeded to call in a few favors as he tried to find if there the girl had any close family members.

Half an hour and six different phone calls later and he didn’t have a lead on anyone who was a close family member or friend.

He looked over his shoulder at the little girl, who was sleeping, nestled in the front seat, using his sweatshirt as a blanket. His heart ached at the thought of having to turn her over to social services.

As if the two had been reading his mind, McGee and Y/L/N walk up to him. McGee’s hair is tousled and he has dark bags under his eyes. Y/L/N looks about ready to pass out and she has her jacket wrapped tightly around her to fight off the growing chill in the air.

“How is she?” You asked gently, moving a tentative step forward to peer at the little girl in the car. Worry is etched into the features on her face as she looks at Anastasia.

He lets out a small huff before answering, “She’s deaf and has lost the last people who cared for her. And there are no living family or close family friends who will take her, which means social services will take her and put her with some foster home. He had nothing against foster homes, the good ones, but he knew all too well that many foster families weren’t as good as they made themselves out to be.

Y/N looks over at McGee, who had also been watching the girl. “Timothy, we could take her.” Your soft voice brings both he and McGee to attention, turning to look at you.

Y/N and McGee had been dating for over four years and just recently had gotten married. He hadn’t been too excited to have two team members who were in a relationship working together, but he hadn’t wanted to let go of either of you because in some weird way, the team was a family. So he had let the two of you break one of his rules, without any reprimanding (aside from some ribbing from DiNozzo).

But looking at the two of you now, he was glad he had chosen to let you both stay on the team, if only because it seemed that fate was allowing this little girl, who had so quickly stolen his heart, stay in his life, as well as yours.

-Five Years Later-

He grabbed the neatly wrapped gift off the front seat of his car before he headed towards the two-story colonial-style house on the quiet, uncrowded street. He knocked softly on the door before it was whipped open, revealing a tall, lanky twelve-year-old girl.

“Papa!” She shouted roughly as she embraced him tightly.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close in a tight hug before gently ruffling her hair. Y/N padded into the entryway and leaned against the wall as she watched her daughter.

“It’s about time you showed. We were ready to eat the cake without you.” Y/N commented, moving to press a soft kiss to his cheek after her daughter let him go. “Shouldn’t you have a rule about being on time?”

Before he could answer, the girl was pulling him along towards the living room. “Look papa, dad got me a kitten.” She mumbled excitedly.

He turned to give Y/N a questioning look to which she shrugged and said, “Hey, that was all Timothy’s idea. He’s a sucker for her, just like you are by the way, and she’s been wanting a cat for a while now.”

He shook his head in disbelief but couldn’t keep the smile off his face. He had a family now and it was all because a little girl charmed her way into his heart.

#ncis #ncis fanfiction #ncis fandom #ncis imagine #gibbs #gibbs fanfiction #mcgee #mcgee x reader #leroy jethro gibbs

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resinatingbeauty · 4 years ago

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In Memory of The Best Friend I Ever Had - RIP Shadow (assumed)- 4/30/2021

Shadow showed up at my parents house where I lived at the time, one night back in 2016. I had just gotten home from working at a local country club late in the evening, tired, and physically burnt out from working 40+ hours a week on top of going to college for my associates degree. I saw something pass by the driveway out of the corner of my eye. Something massively fluffy, tail straight up in the air, trotting along. There are many feral cat colonies in this town and many cat owners that lived on that street. Needless to say, I didn't expect this one to whip back around and start chirping at me, rubbing my legs after I called to her.

My mother was adamant when my last two cats had past 8 or so years prior that she wasn't looking for any more pets. My mom loves animals, but she also loves her home and was thinking about doing renovations before adopting any new companions. I knew I was in trouble when this cat came to me with nothing but affection, clearly malnourished, but strangely well groomed. I knew she had to be owned by someone, I had no idea who.

That night I went inside after spending some time enjoying her company. At the time, I was calling 'Charlemange'' as a play on 'Charlemagne'. I had been taking a medieval humanities course at the time and the name seemed fitting enough considering how much scraggly fur she had. Huge paws. Big, fluffy tail and mane. I had never seen a cat so gorgeous around the area. All the feral cats are short hairs, reinforcing my notion that she had to be someone's pet.

I watched through the window slit of the front door as Charlemange played with the moths and other bugs that were attracted to the lamp post my parents have at the end of the driveway and regretted leaving her out there.

I simply thought that Charlemange would return home where she belonged. When I went out to my back screened in patio, whom do you think was waiting for me? Meowing? Charlemange. To my mother's horror, she would launch herself at the screen and hang there to get our attention. Imagine this big ass cat hanging from your screened in porch you've been trying to renovate by all her claws.

She was persistent and Charlemange NEVER returned home, wherever home was.

Eventually, I sealed the deal, low key giving her a can of tuna. Now you see how Shadow went from Charlemange to Shadow.

For about a month, all I had to do was make a high pitched noise and Shadow would come out of wherever brush she was stalking, running and talking until she found me. One evening, I went to give her her dinner, and she shot in the front door.

Mortified, I watched as she scooted right into the one place that I dreaded her to go. My parent's room. That night, as a 20 something, I received a lecture from my father about how my mother felt about pets. 'She isn't a kitten, you know,' he said, 'thats a grown cat. Someone else's cat.'

I just listened and acknowledged what he was saying. I knew there was no point trying to explain what exactly happened. When my dad got done going off on the back porch and went back in to bed, I heard a meow from the patio door. Shadow had been standing at the door, waiting for him to leave , almost like she was saying, 'Hey, I'm really sorry about that, sis,'

Shadow would go on to live in or around the property for nearly a month. I made an effort to find her owners and return her to no avail. Eventually, a single mom I had been working as a private tutor for as a side hustle agreed that she would take Shadow. This would only last for a few months. The family had another cat, Karma, whom had been declawed (I abhor this) and two little girls who had no respect for animals (especially cats) because of this. I knew how the oldest handled Karma and my only solace in handing Shadow over was that I knew she wouldn't be hit by a car, would be fed, loved to a degree, and would scratch the shit out of them if they fucked up.

Their mother ended up calling me, giving me money to bring Shadow in to the humane society, saying she was a wonderful cat, just not the best fit for the girls. I could only imagine what Shadow went through at that house, because the time there changed her. The collar I had on her was returned to me snapped in two. It looked like it had been pulled off. I cringed thinking about it and never put another collar back on that cat. At the time, a woman had been busted hoarding 100+ cats that had all been relinquished to the humane society and local rescues. The humane society's solution for most was euthanasia and I wasn't about that for Shadow. Back to my backyard she went.

Eventually, Shadow won over my mother and my father, especially my father, whom you would never think would love that cat so much. When my mother brought Shadow to the vet, we were surprised to find she had a chip in her ear registered to someone on our block. As per protocol, animal control was sent out to investigate. The woman told animal control that she didn't want the cat. All she did was run away. Shadow's real name was Holly, but she was still Shadow to me.

Shadow became the best friend I ever knew. Not a night went by where she wasn't under my covers sharing the pillow with me, laying stretched out on her back or side as the little spoon. If she wasn't in my bed, she would sit at the door to the bedroom, guarding me or in a chair next to me, always watching. I could do no wrong in that cat's eyes. She was the highlight of my day when I got home from every crappy job I had since. A furry coat to soak up the tears shed during long nights of insomnia and depression. An inspiration for my art and spirituality. My familiar and kindred spirit. If I would talk to her, she would respond with chirps and meows like she knew exactly what I was saying. If someone else was in the room giving her attention and I walked in, she would perk up and run toward me like they never existed. Shadow was the second cat that chose me. I have never chosen a cat from a shelter or adoption / rescue facility. This is how I acquired both my childhood furry friend and Shadow.

It all began when I noticed Shadow's fur was sticky and stiff, like she had been sitting in honey. Just the end of her tail at first. She always had this silly habit of sitting in her food tray, so I cleaned it and her and thought nothing of it until the drooling started.

Shadow had always been a drooler, but not to this extent. Drool bubbles would pop from her left lip. One night, when I came home from work before I started my leave to focus on my Etsy shop, I was horrified to find her sitting on the couch with a bloody chin. Now, there wasn't a large amount of blood, but this alarmed me significantly. It was time to see a vet, like, yesterday. Thankfully, my shop sales had been great and I didn't have to fret over the bill- I was ready to pay whatever it was to make her feel better.

The vet confirmed what I knew deep down and didn't want to acknowledge because the thought was just too painful. Cancer. No chance of survival even if I wanted to go through the hell of treatment, which involved removal of the tongue and jaw. I brought Shadow home and cried, hoping for the best -that the antibiotic would work. The vet said she had been wrong before, it could just be an abscess and it would heal. Shadow was still doing cat things. Shadow was still my best friend, she still loved me, she was still trying to cuddle me at night and surrounding me with the reminder of death in the odor of her breath.

Yesterday, I brought Shadow in to be put to sleep. The decision was made when I looked up from making a rune set and saw puddles of blood on the floor, a stream of it from her face as she was sitting in the window sill. I have never felt so heartbroken. Not even at a family member's funeral. I asked to bring her home, burying her under the tree where I buried my last cat and childhood familiar, Elmo. When I saw the standard biohazard bag peeking up through the dirt, I knew that was where she belonged. With her sister. Yesterday, my heart was buried with that cat. Eleven years was not long enough but each one filled with so much love and happiness. I stood with her until the end. The only peace I feel is that I know that she is no longer hurting. I know she knew I loved her.

I miss you Shadow. To those of you who have recently lost your best friend, your familiar or the love of your life, my heart goes out to you. I hope that someone else can read this and share my pain. I understand that there was nothing I could do but love her. Love your pets. Love them as long and as well as you can- nothing is immortal. We accept this when we commit to caring for our (mostly) furry (sometimes scaly or feathery) friends. This doesn't mean that it hurts any less when we lose them.

To my customers, who have been patiently and diligently awaiting orders while Etsy forced hiatus on my shop, preventing sales during this crisis in addition to my sister in law's wedding and me poking my own eye out back and February- you all are really the best turn of luck I've had. You do not know how much I appreciate you allowing me the time to spend these last few precious moments with her. It truly means the world to me and I hope at the end you receive something worth your time and patience. I have not forsaken fulfillment, and orders are still shipping. Unfortunately, I NEED to reopen and accept new orders, as Etsy is demanding payment for $600 worth of shipping labels. My shop is still appearing as in hiatus at the moment, but I ask for all the support my friends, supporters and followers can offer at this time as I essentially will be working for free when I reopen to pay these fees. Great, right?

If you are awaiting refunds, there is literally no money in the account associated with Etsy. However, as the funds become available, I will be processing refunds / cancellations. I'm sorry for the delays, I never thought I would say I found success at the worst possible time. I urge the rest of you- if you have a deadline for your order for the love of goddess TELL ME. I am getting a little frustrated with buyers (who are frustrated with me, understandably, but still, my item descriptions are clear about relaying deadlines) who are upset or complaining about meeting gift deadlines or other deadlines I literally had no idea about. I'm a decent psychic, but not perfect.

~ Samantha

(Owner/Designer/Creator blursedbaubles.etsy.com)

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mychemicalaromanticism · 4 years ago

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things ive already established r on this post

besties this got so fucking long but heres a giant ramble about cherri

okay so. there are huge differences betwn cherri as a hyperviolent drac hunter and cherri as a friend of the four and cherri as the girls mentor. with the first one he was 17 and desperate to distance himself from his upbringing so he went all in on Being A Killjoy. he was always one of the first ppl to rush into a fight and he fought hard. he blew up his fuckin hand with that attitude. and all the while he was just racking up more unaddressed trauma and eventually he ran away from that, too. giving himself radiation poisoning was more appealing than facing his problems.

so as a teenager/young adult hes kind of constantly in a panicked state. hes scared the people from his past are going to find him and drag him back with them. so he lashes out and he runs away over and over again.

i said in another post that he has some past life shit goin on which usually would give him a connection to the witch that manifests early in life, but with all the stuff hes gone through he has been Preoccupied. he can become oblivious to almost anything that doesnt apply to whatever hes focused on. not in a hyperfocus way its likeeeeee. when u live on survival mode during prolonged periods of stress. hes immune to magic bullshit bc hes too tired and scared.

anyways around his mid-20s he finally has a little more stability (as much as the average person living in the zones can have, that is) and he finally notices that Weird Stuff happens around him. basically: out of my list of Powers People Connected To The Witch Have he has the prophetic dreams/enhanced intuition as well as a form of sensing ghosts where he can see auras and kind of like, echoes of past events in ppls lives. that look like auras. itz complicated and not of utmost importance so im leaving it at that.

anyways thats what makes him start writing poetry. just 4 funsies he'll describe his weird experiences and embellish them to make em pretty. just as a casual hobby n all that.

he would forget fun ghoul in between the times they ran into each other but its pretty easy to be reminded of who fun ghoul is. the most insane 10 year old cherri has ever met. cherri isnt a brother figure to ghoul. hes just. his friend that happens to be more than twice his age. its whatever lmao

to cherri, ghoul is kinda like a stray animal he keeps seeing. which is hilarious. ghoul actually goes and finds him to introduce him to jet when they start running together, and cherri meets party and kobra (spark and birdie at the time) when he drives the four of them to a party. because he has a truck hell yeah. so now instead of one stray animal he has, like, a feral cat colony that he drives around occasionally. i have no real-life human relationship equivalent to them because irl if some guy that is not related to any of you and isnt even a childhood or family friend and theyre hanging out with you? they are usually not a safe person lmao. but this is my fantasy land and im too stubborn to change anyones birth years even though ghoul being born in 2004 makes everything really hard to make not creepy.

so yeah hes a casual somewhat friend of the fab four. hed probably get more and more concerned as they got famous. the beginnings of any sort of protective feelings, awww :) that sets him up for becoming the girls mentor.

OH FUCK. THE GIRL..... i think if i was in my late 20s and i heard that the gang of 13-17 year olds had adopted a 5 year old kid i would go bananas. what the fuck. it is a LONG while before cherri meets her. but he has the strongest affection for ghoul (if you could even call it that) and ghoul absolutely adores the girl and swings her around under her arms like a cat to show her off to cherri and its very endearing and the girl is sweet and funny so its easy to be around her. and (unfortunately) she is somewhat used to interacting with weird easily agitated people so she kinda gives him space. cherri isnt quite the uncle figure the fandom usually makes him (i luv uncle cherri sm but he simply cannot exist in the universe ive created, f), but hes a little similar.

and then the four had to go and pretend to die. lol.

when the girl was kidnapped, fucking everyone who knew her was ready to storm the city then and there. like regardless of how little you knew her, if you had ever met her you would fucking die for her. she is pure childish charisma and shes precious. i love the girl. so cherris immediately on board with whatever plan the four make to get her back. ive already talked abt how it fucked up the girl tho; there was no way to tell her that the four werent actually dead, she sees the building collapse and she shuts down. and cherri has to fight against his instinct to leave the radio station and never come back when he sees an eight year old girl sitting dissociated on the couch. that fucks everyone up.

i just realized i havent talked about literally anyone else at the radio station. i think cherri started lingering around the station bc it was safe and sheltered while also not being a popular spot. there are less kids there (people pass through but its not a hangout spot). he was kind of just hanging around to get away from the heat and noise and dr d took notice. because that man can see ur soul and no one knows if thats literal or not. so theyd chat a few times a day and show pony was the one 2 get him out of his shell a little and also was the first one he mentioned his poetry hobby to. im making this all up right now as im writing bc i dont know anything about LITERALLY any of the ppl associated w the radio like im not even going 2 try with chimp n newsie i do not have the willpower to tackle all that. justttt. cherri pony n D become bros and live 2gether there.

back 2 the regular timeline. the rescue mission happens in 2019. the girl lives at the station until 2023. during that time she is very much depressed and withdrawn and is only happy when the four come to visit. none of the Adults know how to help her so they just keep her safe and cared for and hope she'll open up to them.

she does not. she takes the weird cat thats been hanging around and she runs away.

cherri does not see her for three years. shes still worse for wear in the mental health department and he can see all kinds of visions of what shes been through since the last time he saw her and he fucking hates the ultra vs bc they remind him of his past. he does not want her going down that path but its obvious that she isnt crazy abt the ultraviolence thing either so thats a relief.

they have a kind of tense relationship throughout the comics. he feels like he failed her and that spirals into feeling like he failed the four for not being a good adult to them and fun ghoul for not helping enough when his commune was bombed and all kinds of shit and that irrational thinking mixed with plain old, yknow, caring about the girl, is what makes him take a bullet (laser. whatever) for her.

i was trying to figure out the timing of each of their ghost experiences, but i want both of them to talk to the witch and im just gonna make it like dreams where a whole buncha stuff happens but irl its been like seconds. so its like barely a second while the girl has her Witch Convo and cherri FINALLY gets a straight answer, yes there is weird shit going on with him having powers. he doesnt have any story-significant past lives because im lazy, hes just an old soul. like really fuckin old. the amount of latent life experience and stuff his soul/energy/whatever has picked up along the way makes him VERY noticeable to gods n stuff. he fuckin lights up all the alarms like what the FUCK is that over there. she wasnt rly able to get to him or even properly notice him while he was a kid and a young adult so shes happy to finally see him again. he has a STRONG sense of familiarity with her. they know each other on a wild ass level that he cant really comprehend.

welp thats some more lore I'll have 2 think abt. anywayz

post canon is when he and val get to have the most awkward spiderman meme moment of realizing that they have the same trauma SOOOOO thatz fun lol /s sorry kings i thought it would be fun to give u something fucked up to bond over <3

not much changes in his personality. he has a better understanding of Weird Magic and delights in freaking out the ultra vs but for the most part he returns to his life at the radio station. i love him

THIS GOT SO CRAZY LONG I DID NOT MEAN 2 GO THROUGH EVERY PART OF HIS LIFE LIKE SOME WEIRD CHARACTER STUDY but here we are. this is basically a first draft like almost all of this is subject to change but u gotta start somewhere. so heres my start i love this guy. its probably obvious but i have not read ANY twitterverse killjoys stuff </3 maybe i will someday idk

#cat talks #lore #ok2rb but what a mess this post is

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dangan-happy · 3 years ago

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「I love Sakura... oh, and I also love Sakura.」 to taka, please. sorry if this is like,, a weird thing to ask about? but how do i mentally deal with financial problems in my family? my mom's unemployed, unemployment payments are over (in my state, at least), and my dad is dodging child support payments. although my family has gone through financial rough spots before, this is the worst both in terms of how much money we have and the emotional toll.

typically situations like this haven't taken much of a toll on me; i mean, i don't really ask for much aside from holidays, so it's not too personally noticeable, but we've been taking care of a colony of feral cats for months now and talks on what feel like the near-daily basis of running out of food for them and not being able to afford them anymore is very stressful, especially considering that i get extremely attached to animals, and have a bad history with losing pets to circumstances out of my control.

i've thought about getting a job before and i've checked listings, but there aren't any remote jobs in the area hiring people my age (15) and i don't feel comfortable getting a job where i have to be in public (and even if i did, my mom wouldn't allow it). i've already felt upset about it for a while, but with recent talks of our finances being down to the hundreds and organizing christmas lists in september “just in case,” i've felt even more distressed about it. i worry so often about losing my ability to care for my cats and feel guilty whenever i buy or want something. if you have any, can i get some advice, and perhaps a hug?

It’s not a weird thing to ask about anon, absolutely not. In fact, I’m quite surprised no one has approached me about this kind of subject; considering that I’m normally a bit too into my own world when it comes to being a stickler for the rules.

There isn’t much advice I can provide, unfortunately myself and the mod do not have too much experience with this situation but I definitely would encourage you in continuing to seek a job! It is a bit difficult for the time being, you’re still a minor so not many places will be available but at the same time, you could just get lucky and succeed in your endeavors!

Now if it is one thing that I can for sure do, it’s giving you a hug. I don’t mind at all, I’m sorry that there isn’t much we can provide, but even if it’s a hug, I hope it will make you smile seeing a response from me. Please take care!

#danganronpa #danganronpa roleplay blog #ask #kiyotaka ishimaru #mod man of morals

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illimitablespaces · 3 years ago

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5,7,9,10,13,25,28,46,52,76,78,154,170,192 :-)

5: Book/series I reread?

The books to which I return again and again tend to be books of poetry. As for what poets, they are almost too numerous to list here. Most of them whose work I have quoted in the archives of this blog are those friends whom I visit frequently.

7: Writer I trust enough to read whatever they write?

In a way I think I have answered this question in my reply above. In terms of writers, poets hold the most interest for me. The dedication to craft and the knowledge of one’s position and responsibility within the art are what gain my admiration--and trust--of those who choose to be poets.

9: Favourite flavour of anything?

Upon reading this, I wish again to taste the concoction that I requested from a locally famous ice cream shop. It consists of blue moon ice cream, red velvet cake pieces, and cream cheese swirl. I called it, “blue velvet.”

10: The word that I use all the time to describe something great?

I notice I have been using the word “lovely” to the point that I’m consciously trying to find other words to use in its stead.

13: Favourite word?

The word susurrus. Also: susurration, susurrating, susurrant.

25: Actor/actress you trust enough to watch whatever they’re in?

This is a difficult one for me... I don’t watch a great many films and the actors of our present day do not hold much allure or interest for me. I think I can safely say that I would enjoy those films which I haven’t seen yet starring Buster Keaton or Charlie Chaplin. Those which I have seen have been immensely pleasurable and delightful--I’m laughing to myself now thinking of those two actors’ antics

28: Something I miss?

Of all the questions here, I have answered this last.

My reason is that the act of missing something, or indeed someone, has been a central theme in my own work (be it musical or poetic composition). Not that I would want events or circumstances to be different than they are (that urge though is strong). Rather, when engaging in nostalgic sadness--the word saudade comes to mind--I am able to recall what has been lost, albeit in a new light. The pain’s the pleasure. . . Forgive my digression but there is a poem by Amy Lowell titled, “Granadilla,” which gets a bit at what I am attempting to explain.

In returning to the aim of the question, I miss my saunters through the forest. I miss the hours I would play at the piano. I miss gardening. I miss the peace which comes with living in a tiny town. I miss my immediate family and the time spent with them. I miss my grandparents. I miss writing letters. I miss those friends with whom I would share that form of correspondence. I miss waking early and seeing the fresh blaze of the newly-risen sun. I miss walking out the back door, wandering to the far field and gazing upon the wonder of the night sky. I miss the moon and witnessing her changing phases.

These are but a few things and people I miss. Forgive me if it is too indulgent. I am often guilty of becoming too enveloped in that ever-growing labyrinth of thought. I hope my answer here satisfies.

46: Do I play any instruments?

Yes, several. I learned quite a few instruments over the years but the ones which have remained with me most of my life are the piano, organ, and bassoon.

52: When do I feel most at peace?

I feel the greatest sense of peace in several certain places. Namely, a church (especially in the early morning), a mosque, beautiful and well-maintained parks, and the deep woods. The deep woods are perhaps my favorite of places as the noise of the world is silenced and the creatures of the earth can be heard freely and clearly.

76: Do I have any pets?

Yes, currently my partner and I are caring for a cat, a turtle, and two betta fish. There have been talks between us about bringing a chameleon into the mix but I don’t think we have the time to devote proper care to such an animal. (For quite a few months I have been wanting to start an ant colony--for which there are a surprising number of resources online--but I have no idea where I would house one in our flat)

78: Early bird or night owl?

I consider myself an “early bird” as I love to rise just before the sun and prepare tea or coffee and enjoy the sounds of birds as they greet the dawn. It is a very calm and peaceful for me but rarely have I had the opportunity in the past few years to relish that beautiful time of day.

154: Do I want children?

Most definitely not. I am not keen on that responsibility though I admire the inherent honesty and curiosity of children. I will leave the raising of children to those more capable and better suited.

170: One of my favourite quotes?

There are too many lovely words to quote here but one of my favorites has stayed with me for years. It comes from Maurice Sendak, and it follows thus:

Artists have to take a dive, and either you hit your head on a rock and it splits your skull and you die, or, that blow to the head is so inspiring that you come back up and you do the best work you ever did. But--you have to take the dive, and you do not know what the result will be.

192: What is “home” to me?

Home is where one starts from, as T. S. Eliot wrote. I believe all those things that shape our convictions and tastes and likes and dislikes--all these come from seeking a sense of home, or place. Truly, I think home is where our hearts reside, not necessarily a physical space, but that place of established calm, comfort, and peace.

Thank you, @ant-soul, for these questions. It has been my pleasure to answer them.

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kindred-is-obsessed · 5 years ago

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Reasons you should be watching Craig of the Creek

Not enough people are watching this wonderful show, so I thought I’d do my best to introduce people to it. It’s made by former Steven Universe crew Ben Levin and Matt Burnett, so if you’re missing Steven Universe while it’s on hiatus this is a great way to keep away the hiatus blues, or if you just enjoy in cartoons. It’s great for a whole list of reasons, which broadly fall into the two categories of great representation and great storytelling:

Canonical queer representation

- The witches premiere in the episode The Curse. If you aren’t sure if you want to watch this whole show definitely watch this one at least! It’s my absolute favourite not least of all because it’s about teen goth girls in love. It has a sequel The Last Kid in The Creek which is also wonderful, and the witches cameo throughout the series. I don’t want to spoil too much but The Curse is essentially about the two not wanting to be separated and struggling to admit their feelings for each other. (Spoilers: they do and walk off alone, blushing, staring at each other lovingly, while the kids aww at them)

- Bernard and his girlfriend watch a cooking show hosted by a gay couple.

- Other cameos, hints and coded queer kids such as JP’s sister (who has fancy dinner reservations with Kat, a woman with a shaved head who compliments Kelsey’s fake sword). There’s also Raj and Shaun (two very close friends), as well as several very boyish tomboys, including Handlebarb and Turner.

- All public bathrooms I’ve spotted in the show have gender neutral signs on them which is nice.

POC representation

- Craig, the main character, is black and has a loving family explored in depth, including an activist grandmother working for the council, a wise and fun grandfather, a supportive fun dad who loves his amazing wife, an adorable assertive little sister, and an angsty overachieving older brother who just wants to be a good grownup who loves his family and girlfriend.

- There are MANY characters of colour. There are black and brown characters, Raj is Indian, Stacks is Hispanic (and it’s implied she is an immigrant), there are several Asian characters, Kelsey is Hungarian and Jewish, a persistent background character wears a hijab (I’m pretty sure she was named at some point but I can’t find her name anywhere. She definitely has lines at one point). I’m sure there are others I have missed. No one is a stereotype as far as I am aware.

Subtle neurodivergent representation

- JP is possibly on the autism spectrum. I’d love neurodivergent people’s opinions on this, but while the representation isn’t canonical or obvious I think it’s good that while JP is represented as having different thought processes from his friends, he isn’t made fun of for it, at least not by them. It’s noteworthy I think that he’s the eldest of the core trio, probably because he finds it easier to relate to younger people who still share his imagination and care less about his unique way of thinking. His neurodivergence is explored most explicitly in the episode Jextra Perrestrial, so if you’re interested in this kind of representation definitely check that episode out.

Non-nuclear family representation

- While the main character is a member of the typical nuclear family you see on TV (except black, and actually interesting) most of the other families we see are not.

- JP is raised by his mother and older sister. His father is never mentioned and their house is definitely in worse condition than the others we see. His family works hard to take care of each other. His sister is a nurse and both her and her mother are away a lot of the time, but they both love JP very much. JP’s sister also happens to be really openly body positive. I love them a lot.

- Kelsey’s father is an only parent. There’s still a lot of mystery surrounding how Kelsey’s mother passed away. It’s a very subtle but important part of Kelsey’s character and comes through in really bittersweet adorable ways (not limited to Kelsey using her “half-orphan”ness to guilt trip a man into giving her money)

- Other kinds of families are scattered throughout the show, including families that move around a lot, a home-school kid with a strict mother, and more.

Unique approach to fantasy and sci-fi

- You know how most kids show will take a kid’s fantasy and bring it to reality? Well Craig of the Creek keeps the fantastical and nostalgic element of that line of thinking but never confirms or denies whether the kids fantasies are real or in their heads. And not in a Scooby Doo way where the fantastical elements are explained away, but are hinted as a possibility right at the very end. Instead, two perspectives (the fantastical perspective and the realistic perspective) are woven into every episode.

- This means there are two ways to interpret every episode. You can view the witches as real witches, or as goth teenagers. You can view Helen as a kid from another dimension, or a home-school kid who is never at the creek at the same time as the other kids. You can view Deltron as a cyborg from the future, or as an imaginative kid from a big city.

- This is super unique and fun to watch. They come up with so many new ideas and its always fun to figure out what’s actually happening, while still getting to relive childhood fantastical nostalgia.

- Almost all of these episodes use this to talk about an issue, but these issues can get quite complex and are definitely not shoved down your throat.

Overarching mystery plot about a colonialist kingdom / cult

- Love the slow burn storytelling of Steven Universe’s Diamond Authority? Love putting together the mysteries of Gravity Falls? Then you’ll love this plot about colonialism, classism, bullying, peer pressure and more and its mysterious build up including cryptic graffiti art and flower symbolism.

- Even before this arc properly begins, Craig of The Creek primarily centers around the microcosm of the Creek. Many of the episodes have a lot of commentary on society, politics and how different factions of people form and interact.

- The show is over 50 episodes in and this arc is only just starting to kick off so now is the time to catch up and watch.

- Fun complex villain(s)

Complex relatable characters

- Want commentary and nostalgia about horse girls, children’s tea parties, weird kids, angsty teens, young weebs, dweebs and more!? Every childhood obsession is represented in this show.

- Adults! All the parents and older teens in this show are just as rich and complex as the kids. They are all so interesting and fun.

- Want characters with arcs, aims, fun relationships and complexity!? Look no further! Redemption arcs! Revelations! Found family! It’s all here!

Great art and soundtrack

- Cute background and character designs that make you nostalgic as hell and are also beautiful and well thought out.

- Sometimes the art design is changed up for a particular episode to portray a certain fantastical / sci fi element. It’s very fun and engaging.

- An opening song that’s fun to sing along to, bittersweet ending song that makes me want to cry, a couple of musical episodes including a super fun rap musical episode, and a great OST

Queer headcanons

- There are tons of ways to interpret the show but here’s some of my head canons just to get an idea.

- (Note that despite my headcanons I use the pronouns for the kids that they use in the show cause I’m not certain about any of it and they’re kids who haven’t come out yet and also for clarity and consistency’s sake – I’m not saying trans people are not their genders. Don’t worry I’m nonbinary)

- I headcanon that all the main trio grow up to realise they are queer. They strike me as that weird group of friends that doesn’t fit in with the other kids and aren’t quite sure how they all came to be friends, only to later realise they all showed early signs of breaking gender roles and that’s why they stuck together.

- Craig definitely grows up to realise he’s gay, bisexual or queer. His admiration for characters like Deltron and Green Poncho are definitely crushes that he mistakes for a strong sudden and eager desire for friendship.

- Kelsey probably grows up to realise she is nonbinary, a trans boy or a WLW. I mostly headcanon this because I relate to her a lot and I’m nonbinary and queer so I said so. She reminds me a lot of myself as a kid. She throws herself into books, mostly fantasy for escapism. She fantasises and writes a lot for the same reasons. She dresses like a tomboy (She always wears her hair up in the same bun which strongly reminds me of my own childhood hair dysphoria) and she hangs out solely with male friends.

- JP gives me strong trans lesbian vibes, or to a lesser extent nonbinary vibes. (I know his sister is WLW coded but take it from me there can be more than one queer in a family). He is interested in girls, specifically Maney the horse girl (he even joined the horse girls for one episode). He wears a long V-neck shirt that is essentially a dress ALL the time. He’s aware that he’s different and while self conscious sometimes, mostly just wants to express himself the way he wants to. He also chooses to go by initials JP over his very gendered name Johnathan Paul (In a recent episode he names a ship after himself, calling it “The SS Johnathon Paulina”).

- (Sidenote if you do start watching this show and I see any nasty shipping of these characters in non puppy-love fashion so help me god)

Other reasons

- The show is at times very intertextual and references Princess Mononoke, Super Smash Brothers, Sailor Moon, Lord of the Rings, and a billion other things. It also has some fun cameos, including background images of the Tres Horny Boys from The Adventure Zone, a TARDIS from Doctor Who, and a Cookie Cat from Steven Universe.

- Honestly, this post hasn’t done the best job explaining why I love this show so much. You honestly just have to watch an episode to understand fully what I’m talking about, so give it a go! Watch The Curse at least, it only goes for 10 minutes.

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croc-odette · 4 years ago

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i love ds9 and here are some episode premises that i wish had happened

DND EPISODE: already talked about this but a dungeons and dragons holosuite episode. jake is the overly prepared DM obviously, nog, ziyal, and alexander are players. nog’s player is clearly his idea of sisko, a lawful good paladin; ziyal plays as a cardassian rogue (played by dukat, but clearly based in personality on kira); alexander plays a mage who is kind-of worf kind-of jadzia and keeps switching between them through the game). there’s an NPC version that’s clearly also based on sisko at one point, but from jake’s point of view knowing him as his dad to compare how differently jake and nog, a cadet, see him.

as the game progresses, it becomes clear that the Big Bad is based on a combo of dukat/winn (corrupt government/religious figure). ziyal struggles with the classic DND question of ‘just because i would do this, does that mean my character would?’ except she’s realizing that her dad wouldn’t do any of the selfless things she wants her character to do. alexander keeps trying to solve shit through weird cantrips or puzzle solving instead of fighting and jake is like ‘it’s not deep it’s just a cave bat please roll initiative’. bashir and garak show up as like, the old couple from the princess bride and everyone has to be like ‘jake they’re not dating in real life this rpf shit is kind of inappropriate’ and he’s like ‘wait what? i thought they were dating’. miles is an NPC and dies. nog thinks jake’s-sisko-npc is too silly and disrespectful and jake is like ‘he’s MY dad’ and they have to take a break to argue about it and jake is like ‘your dad is cool too’. nog’s character changes to lawful good paladin rom. actually this whole game is ‘arguing about dads’ time now that i think about it, which jake is not really equipped to jump in on since he has a normal cool dad who he basically just thinks is embarrassing because he’s the ~messiah~ or some goofy bullshit. ends with them calling it a day after the final boss battle and then jake and nog privately talking about whether or not they can trust ziyal if she has to choose between ds9 and dukat, which was an ulterior motive of the game. ziyal is clearly clearly rattled by what the game made her realize and goes to see kira, who she doesn’t tell about the game but who still gives her a hug, and ziyal realizes that kira’s her hero (and like, her mom). alexander tells worf and dax about the game and dax thinks it sounds fun as hell and asks alexander if they can come next time, and worf is like ‘....... only if i can be a blood mage’. nog and jake go home and tell their dads they love them.

shit i blacked out

PRANK WAR EPISODE: escalating series of pranks starting with jadzia putting hair dye in bashir’s shampoo and ending with the space station accidentally going into a meltdown self destruct scenario. garak is torn between helping jadzia and quark, who are clearly the better pranksters, or helping julian and odo, who suck at pranks but are his lunch friends. everyone has to tell garak that he’s way too intense about ‘pranks’ which are actually just really dangerous booby traps he puts in people’s quarters. sisko ends the episode by grounding everyone; no holosuites for a month!! yes even dax

GREAT RACE EPISODE: there’s some kind of macguffin resource on a planet (a klingon escape pod with a survivor with crucial intelligence information?), but they can’t teleport directly to it. a vorta and jem h’dar team and a ds9 team beam down on opposite sides of its location and are both racing to get there first, having to macgyver together vehicles and tools on the way. lots of excellent outdoor on-location settings and comparison of the jem h’dar/vorta dynamic and the ds9 federation dynamic. ends with the jem h’dar almost winning but turning on the vorta at the last few yards, and sisko’s team beams out as the jem h’dar chant victory. no i refuse to think this is same plot as ‘the ship’ or whatever

KASIDY EPISODE: set earlier in kasidy/sisko’s relationship, kasidy agrees to go with jadzia as a third-party observer to negotiations with a nearby bajoran colony over a trade agreement with the federation. jadzia and kasidy bond over gossiping about sisko on the way, but once they get there kasidy disagrees with the starfleet’s contract during negotiations which causes tensions, and recommends that the bajorans reject it. she and jadzia get into an argument about starfleet and its ideals, and why kasidy chose to be an independent captain rather than a starfleet captain, and how that doesn’t make her lesser than starfleet captains. jadzia realizes that kasidy is right and petitions superiors for a new contract, which kasidy approves of. they go home tenser then when they left, but when sisko asks jadzia what she thinks of kasidy, she very seriously says that she has incredible compassion, intelligence, and integrity, and that she doesn’t need or want jadzia’s approval. but has it anyway

MUSICAL EPISODE: someone already outlined a great musical ep where lwaxana comes in with a betazoid cold and it makes everyone burst into song in another text post and like 100% cosigned

SHAKESPEARE EP: holosuite shenanigans; every character is suddenly stuck as someone from a different shakespeare play. garak is an enthusiastically combative beatrice, kira is cordelia, worf is hamlet, jadzia is a very amused katerina, julian is puck, miles is duncan (”i get MURDERED?”), odo is benvolio and kind of bummed he’s not romeo, etc. i actually don’t know any shakespeare play that well but i think it could be neat. julian is the only fucking person on ds9 who actually knows any of it well enough to figure out what’s going on, except for sisko who doesn’t really care for shakespeare but generally knows about the plays (maybe a good opportunity to talk about the racism in most ‘classic Earth’ pop culture that star trek tends to uphold without criticism). i don’t know shit about the 40 plays that shakespeare wrote about british kings but i could see sisko ending up in that kind of intense role and refusing to play into it, as do the rest of the characters who refuse to fulfill their respective roles and instead find another way to end the program.

KLINGON OPERA EPISODE: goodddddddd can we see some klingon opera, mac. i’ve been dying to see some klingon opera. premise is they believe that someone is assassinating ambassadors and so they tag along with a andorian ambassador who loves opera to see if they can figure out who the assassin is, however the andorian plays it down as over-worrying and that they should use it as an excuse to enjoy themselves. worf and jadzia go and have a lovey dovey time, sisko and kasidy go and have a lovey dovey time watching worf and jadzia get super into the opera together. julian is asked to go in case there’s poison used or first aid needed, and miles is like ‘the last time i went undercover i came home with trauma and someone’s cat so no thanks i hate klingon opera’ and after some increasingly overt passive aggressive implications that julian should take HIM, julian asks garak to go with him. bonus points if for some reason they are wearing the stupid tuxedos from doctor bashir i presume. a lot of loud arguing about the opera which almost gets them kicked out. at the end of the first act, one of the actors DOES try to kill the andorian but jadzia jumps in front of the phaser beam (cue worf being very concerned and annoyed that she could have gotten killed, jadzia being very smug and pleased with herself, her head in his lap, in a pose mirroring an earlier couple in the opera). julian feels like he would have noticed if he hadn’t been distracted by garak, and when it turns out the andorian ambassador has sensitive info about cardassia’s civilian government, julian accuses garak of intentionally trying to distract him to make sure the andorian actually died, which turns into a huge argument (ideally in a very opulent klingon opera house bathroom). during the argument, julian realizes that garak was trying to hint to him that something about the assassination attempt was off; he pieces together aloud that the andorian and the actor must have been in league together, to fake the andorian’s assassination so they could not be tried for profiteering by illegally selling weapons to the cardassian central control during bajoran occupation, which they are currently under investigation for. the other ambassador assasinations were planned by the andorian to cover their tracks. the andorian is arrested, as is the actor. at the ballroom afterparty, sisko and kasidy, in a good mood that everything worked out, agree to join in on traditional klingon dancing. worf and jadzia take a peaceful walk through the gardens and worf recites some really lovely klingon poetry about how sometimes it’s NOT a good day to die if someone loves you, that none of us fucking understand without looking it up. julian and garak talk on the balcony, and julian posits that garak is loyal to cardassia, but which part of it? garak answers, very close and meaningfully looking at julian, ‘like most things... it’s complicated.’

i was about to say ‘fake wedding episode’ but literally LITERALLY that was the shotgun wedding lwaxana/odo ep. i love star trek

KEIKO BOTANIST EPISODE: kira accompanies keiko to bajor to help find a medicinal plant that was thought to be wiped out during the occupation but might still exist in a remote mountain region based on local reports. a nice episode where we learn more about bajor and see how bajorans are coping and healing. over a campfire, kira thanks keiko for accepting her into their family. keiko tells kira that she was really intimidated by her when they first met, and then realized she’s one of the most loving people she knows. just a nice episode, maybe some mild nature survival conflict, but ends on a hopeful note of them finding the plant. miles beams down with the kids to have a picnic with keiko and kira, and kira’s happy to see children playing carelessly on bajor again.

JAKE AND ZIYAL EPISODE: everyone thinks jake and ziyal are dating because they’ve been hanging out. julian’s an idiot and mentions to sisko ‘must be hard, huh’ and sisko’s like ‘WHAT must be hard’ and julian’s like oh my god were we not supposed to talk to him about this. jake and ziyal aren’t dating but as soon as sisko tries to talk to jake about it jake is like ‘i’m not but actually maybe i SHOULD ask her out’ and sisko is like fuck. okay no that’s fine. this is more of a B-plot but basically give jake and ziyal age-appropriate love interests they’re both RIGHT there

#i'm really about to write fake screenplays for episodes for a tv show that ended 20 years ago #star trek blogging #THIS GOT OUT OF HAND.

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alarawriting · 5 years ago

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52 Project #1: The Chicken Story

Every part of this story is true. Even the lies. In fact, especially the lies.

***

Yes, I live in the city and I have chickens, no thanks to city legislature. You’d think that cities would be more supportive of having chickens; they kill rats and they produce eggs, what’s not to like? Well, okay, chicken poop isn’t all that pleasant and they destroy all the plants in their run, but unlike, say, cat or dog poop, chicken poop is useful as fertilizer. The city’s somewhat tolerant of hens, but they’re appallingly sexist toward roosters; I mean, yes, the poor guys are loud, but so are dogs and I don’t see anyone banning dog ownership within city limits. Roosters protect their flock from predators and they can serve as watch animals. They don’t actually crow to tell you it’s dawn, though, that’s a myth. Mostly they crow to tell you “Goddamn, yo, check me out, I’m a rooster.” Or something like that. If roosters could talk they would absolutely perform hip-hop.

Anyway, I have a funny story about those chickens, and roosters, and my son, who’s a ninja. No, I’m not making this up, it’s his superpower. He could be standing right there and I could be looking for him and I wouldn’t see him. He’s not invisible, he’s just… very good at going unnoticed. That was really helpful when we were trying to get our second house.

Oh, yeah, so this place is actually two halves of a duplex, and originally, we owned just one. Then the neighbor overextended himself bricking up all the yards back there. You see the street back there? All the yards behind my house are made of concrete now. Rudest thing you ever saw, because they didn’t put in drainage, so all those yards that used to be soil and dirt ended up flooding, directly into my garage. I had my car floating in it, out to the street. I mean, it was raining pretty heavy and all the cars down at the bottom of the hill were also floating, but I’m halfway up the hill so you wouldn’t expect my car to float, but no, I open my garage, and there it is, bobbing up and down. I loved that car. It floated down the street and ended up in the river – yeah, there’s a river down there, you can’t tell most of the time because it’s so shallow it’s barely a creek, but that day it was overflowing and my car floated right into it and sailed off. Never got it back. Pretty sure it’s in the bay someplace. Now all we have is my wife’s minivan, because she was at her parents’ house with the younger kids that weekend, and I’m really not a fan. Who builds a car large enough to transport drywall but too small to stretch your legs if you’re an adult man? Honda, that’s who. She doesn’t care because she’s short, but I miss my car. It was a Chevy Impala, we called it Vlad because you have to call an Impala Vlad, right? Vlad the Impala? Come on, it’s a Dracula joke.

Right, so anyway, the reason they’re all bricked up is that my neighbor was trying to buy up all the properties there, so he had a business offering people that he’d brick up their yard – no more tickets from the city about high grass and weeds, no more kids sneaking into the back to grow illicit tomatoes, no rats – and a lot of people took him up on it, because they didn’t realize about the flooding. Sure, most of it ended up in my garage, but a lot of it ended up in people’s basements, and no one around here has flood insurance, we’re halfway up a hill. And that dislodged the ghosts. See, most of this city’s built on an ancient burial ground of some kind or other… I don’t think Native American, I think it was one of those colonial cemeteries or something, so when you flood basements, you’re gonna get ghosts. And that meant people trying to sell their properties because they’re haunted. So he figured he’d buy up all the houses on the block cheap, right? Except some investigators came in from a government agency and they figured out that he’d known about the ghosts and that’s why he talked people into letting him pour concrete all over their yards, so there were lawsuits – I considered joining in myself, but at the time, he lived on the other half of my house so I didn’t want to stir things up. And at the end of the lawsuits, he was the one who had to sell his house for cheap in a big hurry or face foreclosure, because he’d had to mortgage his house like three times to pay the lawsuits.

Well, we tried to get it legitimately. My wife’s name isn’t on the title to my house, so she was eligible for an FHA loan. But they absolutely refused to believe that she wanted to buy the house next door to the one she was living in just to live in it. They were convinced she wanted to rent it out. She pointed out that the mortgage payments were like twice what anyone would pay to rent a place around here – yay for gentrification, I guess – but they weren’t convinced. So we rented her an apartment and she was going to live in it for six months so that she could go back and get the FHA loan – I mean, she wasn’t really living in it, she was just storing her books in it, but no one was going to be able to tell she wasn’t living in it because if an auditor came to the house, she had it rigged with cameras and speakers and whatnot so she could talk to people remotely and tell them not to come in because of the books, and if you looked through the windows you could see that you couldn’t see a damn thing because of the piles of books everywhere, like seven-foot-tall stacks of books all over the place. But before she could go back to get the loan, the bank finished foreclosing on the guy and then the house wasn’t available for sale.

Now, see, we knew that sooner or later, the bank was going to sell that house, so we went into action. Here’s where my son being a ninja came in; we had him go over there and steal all the doors inside the house and hide them in the attic. The embarrassing thing is that he forgot where he put them so the entire house still doesn’t have doors. We have to have a curtain up in front of the bathroom, since it’s an old house and the width of the doorjamb doesn’t match the sizes they make doors anymore. The cops came and searched for the doors – I think they were suspicious that we took them, since how many houses have a ninja? But after they went up into the attic and two of them fell through the ceiling and broke their ribs, they decided it wasn’t worth their time. Also, I kept pointing out to them about the lawsuit, and the ghosts, like my family was the only one who’d have motivation to steal the doors? Really?

Then we filled the bathroom with dead rats. I guess this requires a little bit of explanation. We didn’t have the chickens yet, or the assassin cat – did I tell you about my assassin cat? No? Well, let me finish telling you about the house first. So we had a lot of rats, and we were poisoning them, as you do when you’ve got that many rats, and we also had traps, and a giant dollhouse with murder dolls in it. You’ve never used a murder doll on a rat? It’s a doll that’s got a knife in its hand, and when the sensors in its eyes detect that there’s a rat walking by, it starts slashing at it like Jason at camp. My wife dressed them up nice so the rats would be fooled, and changed their clothes every day so they wouldn’t smell like rat blood. They had these frilly Victorian white outfits that she just drowned in bleach to get the dead rat smells out.

So anyway, when you’ve got four dozen dead rats, what do you do with them? If you put them all out in trash bags, the city might condemn your house for having that many rats. Never mind that most of them were swarming over from the other house anyway because it was abandoned. So we piled up the dead rat bodies in the bathroom. Then my son stole their refrigerator and rolled it out in the late evening, strolling along with it, mostly because at the time he wasn’t 18 yet but also because ninja, and we loaded it into my wife’s minivan and drove it to a friend’s house because his wife had gotten drunk on cheap wine and stabbed their refrigerator to death with a knife. Apparently it was a really big knife. Then we took the oven, which was good, because there were rats living in it, and we hid it in our garage, which we didn’t keep cars in anymore because of the risk of the garage flooding and the cars floating away. Since we were cognizant of the cops potentially looking for the oven, I let my wife take all the books back out of the apartment she’d been renting because we couldn’t really use it for what we’d intended anyway, and she stacked them all around the oven, and after she was done not only could you not tell there was an oven in there, but you didn’t want to go anywhere near it because you were afraid of a seven-foot-tall stack of books toppling over on you, and I’ve never met a cop who’s seven feet tall. They never did come by, though. Which was good, because the first time it rained, my wife went out there to retrieve all her books to save them from flooding, and of course then you could see the oven again.

We tried to steal the hot tub, but someone else got to it first, along with my lawnmower and backup generator. I felt really bad about the backup generator because we had some really beefy squirrels in there running the dynamo wheel and I don’t know where I’m going to get squirrels that big and strong again.

Then the bank started showing the house, so we stepped up our game. We played death metal at ridiculous volume when people would come to see the house, until we found out from my youngest son’s friend’s mom that she’d actually come to look at the house and thought the death metal was encouraging, as it suggested neighbors she could get along with. So after that it was endless repetitions of music from Sesame Street and The Song That Doesn’t End and Dora the Explorer. During that time period we all wore headphones; it was kind of unbearable, except for the youngest kids, of course. They didn’t mind.

We put cat food and sardines in the air conditioning vents, and potatoes in the closet so they could rot and turn to mush in the dark, and my oldest daughter, whose room was absolutely full of ghosts, did a séance and an exorcism to get the ghosts to move to the other house, and of course it was full of flies because of all the dead rats, and then we randomly placed mannequin parts in strategic locations. It must have worked, because in the end, no one bought the place and the bank put it up for auction, and my wife’s parents bought it for her. And then, of course, we had to clean up the potatoes, and the flies, and the ghosts, and the cat food – someone had gotten to the dead rats already – and deal with the power company being too scared of the ghosts to come hook us up, and the insurance agency rejecting my wife’s parents’ insurance application because someone came by while my daughter was doing her séance/exorcism and apparently black magic is one of those things they don’t tell you you can’t do in an insured house, but they won’t insure your house if they know you’re doing it.

So after all this, after my son the ninja has busted his butt trying to make this place unliveable so we could get it at auction for cheap enough that my wife’s parents could afford it – they’ve got that kind of professional man and housewife money that only boomers get to have anymore, not rich but sure as heck not as poor as I’d be if my wife didn’t work – he says, he wants chickens. He’s found his spirit animal, or something, and it’s a bird. It doesn’t hurt that I have a new boyfriend – yes, I said it, I have a wife and a boyfriend and they know about each other and we all live in the same house, and if you don’t like it, you know what you can sit and spin on. Anyway, my boyfriend is a wild animal dude from Canada, who, like, communes with animals and has conversations with them and is very possibly actually delusional, but he has all these ideas about how we can convert the two yards into an urban farm. It’s his original idea about the chickens, but my son is thrilled with the idea and I’m not gonna say no to the guy after he helped us get our second house, and I like the idea myself, so we go and get chickens.

First snag. My wife’s parents hate chickens. They hate birds in general. Apparently when my wife was a kid, they had a dog who didn’t believe in birds, and the birds pecked his eyes out, so they’ve got a grudge. I… gotta say, much as I love dogs, any dog who told a bird to its face that he didn’t believe in birds had it coming. You just don’t tell people that they don’t exist while you’re looking straight at them. That’s rude.

Second snag. The city won’t let us have more than 4 chickens per yard, but my boyfriend has acquired eight because he thought we’d be able to use the second yard, and because my wife’s parents hate birds, that isn’t happening. And no one wants to give any of the birds up. We’ve got some amazing chickens. We’ve got a white Silkie who I like to keep on my lap and pet when I’m being a supervillain, because any villain can have a long-furred white cat but it takes a really original guy to have a long-furred white chicken. (Obviously, Silkies don’t really have fur, but their feathers have a consistency like silky fur, hence the name.) We’ve got a Silkie crossbreed who sings dubstep. She’s a tiny little bantam chicken, but because she was raised by my son, who has been taking care of all the chickens since we got them, and they think he’s the alpha hen, she gets to boss all the rest of the chickens around because she’s the daughter of the alpha hen, which I guess makes her Princess Hen or something. We’ve got a big black Cochin with feathers on her feet, and a Naked Neck chicken who wants all the rest of her feathers off too, and a bunch of others. Really exotic chickens. So we’re not giving up any of these chickens for anything. We hide the two bantams – the Silkie and the princess – in the house, which necessitates chicken diapers, about which the less said the better – and we just kind of pretend that we have four outdoor chickens instead of six.

And our chickens are heroes. The cops come by one day looking for an armed robber who’s hiding somewhere. The chickens are all riled up. We think they’re worried about the cops, until eventually, they start pecking at something under their coop, and here comes the robber, crawling out from under the coop shrieking because he’s being pecked by half a dozen birds. The cops give the chickens a medal – one for all of them, they don’t have that many medals lying around, and we have to take it away from them and hang it in the house because they’re fighting over it all the time. And the news decides to do a human interest piece on our hero chickens, and we think the world should know how awesome our chickens are, so we let them.

This turns out to be a mistake. Because we’re not legally allowed to have six chickens. So one cold winter afternoon, while we’re getting ready to spend a weekend in another dimension, Animal Control comes and steals all our chickens, and trumps up charges against us such as “no water” (which is what happens after you tip a waterer over on its side), and “inadequate shelter” because they tore the door off the chicken coop to get at our birds, since naturally we had the coop door locked, and “immoral consecration of chicken souls to Satan” which is just a flat out lie. We’re atheists, not Satanists, and even Satanists don’t actually consecrate chicken souls to Satan. That’s mostly edgy teenagers who were raised Catholic.

Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever gone through a dimensional portal, but the thing is, they are only open for a short period of time, and it can be years before they open again. We couldn’t change our plans; the tickets for the boat were very expensive, since only so many boats were going to be allowed to sail through the portal so it was a really limited thing, and this close to sail time there was no way we could sell our tickets or exchange them. So we had to go on our trip for the weekend, which was great. Really fun. Not as much fun as the time when I was a kid and my family went to the moon and had a barbeque, but do you ever really have as much fun on a vacation when you’re an adult as you did when you were a kid? I keep meaning to take my kids there one of these days – among other things, my family’s barbeque grill is still stuck up there and I want it back – but I’m a little bit afraid that I won’t be able to get the magic back and it’ll be really depressing. While we were sailing out there, we actually got to see the Kraken, at a safe distance away, breaching out in the bay some ways away. My oldest daughter wants to be a marine biologist, so she was telling us all kinds of Kraken facts, and disputing my statement that the fire that burned down the city a century ago was actually caused by the Kraken.

It was carrying a car in its tentacles. I couldn’t be sure – my vision’s not the best even with a telescope – but I could swear the car looked just like Vlad the Impala.

Anyway, when we came back, we found out that the chickens had already been shipped out to a zoo in a different city.

My wife piled us all into the minivan and we drove five hours to go see the chickens at the zoo, and they were doing fine – they were apparently now a traveling exhibit at a petting zoo – but it turns out chickens can see ninjas, particularly ninjas who raised and cared for them. They got so excited when my son snuck into their enclosure to steal them back that they raised a huge ruckus, and even the most talented ninja can’t stay invisible when he’s surrounded by clucking chickens. Then my wife started trying to tell a sob story about stolen chickens, but I’m afraid I got a little angry at the injustice of it all, and it is possible that a zoo employee ended up in a pond, and as a result we were thrown out of the zoo. And then they went to the other side of the country, and we just couldn’t figure out how to smuggle six chickens onto an airplane, and we couldn’t take off enough time from work to go out there with the car… so we basically gave up. The chickens were having a good life at the zoo, and getting them back was going to take way too much effort.

We hardened our premises, securing the run with a locked gate so an animal control officer would have to climb over a six foot fence to get at our chickens, and then protected the fence by getting clematis to grow all over it so it turned into essentially a six foot tall flowering bush, and got a set of eight chicks that we were assured would grow up into hens. Spoiler alert: you can’t tell what sex a chick is. Half of them grew up into roosters. So we ended up with four hens, plus the two bantam hens in the house, to live outside again, but we also ended up with four roosters, and we had to keep the poor guys in the basement. My boyfriend lived in terror of Animal Control, fearing that every time he heard a cop car, it was the cops coming to break into our basement and take our chickens. I’d say he was a little paranoid if not for what happened later; turns out it’s not paranoia if they really are out to get you.

Well, some of our new chickens had a case of wanderlust. We had Raspberry, who really liked to sleep in the bush, and Henry the Eggth, who was something of an escape artist; we kept finding her running down the street, sometimes with my son’s ninja headgear on her body, like she thought that if she just dressed like her ninja Queen Chicken Dad, she could borrow his powers and sneak out unseen. It didn’t work like that; no matter how hard a chicken trains to be a ninja, she just can’t do it. Not if her goal is to go unseen by humans, anyway. I have no idea whether Henry was able to hide from other chickens or not. The other two, Marie Curie (she got that name because she was a Polish, and Marie Curie was from Poland) and Hen Solo, would sometimes fly up to join Raspberry in the clematis bush. Chickens can’t technically fly, most of the time, because they’re too big for their own wingspan, but Solo was a bantam and Polish are a pretty tiny chicken breed too, so they were both light enough to fly as far as the bush.

Down in the basement, we had Eggy Pop, the sweetest little bantam chick size of an egg you ever saw, who grew up to be an asshole bantam roo, the kind who have a real chip on their shoulders about being bantams, and will try to kick everyone’s ass, including humans; MeToo, a beautiful Silkie who got his name when we thought he was a hen and figured that if anyone was gonna harass a chicken it would be that one; Dr. Tran, whose name I really can’t explain if there are young kids around; and Lyndon LaRoo, who kept trying, and failing, to improve his own position in the pecking order. (Dr. Tran and Lyndon got name changes when we figured out they were roos, as previously they had been named Nightmare Moon and Twilight Chicklet.) We had to keep them boxed in with baby gates, otherwise they’d have escaped through the secret tunnels we’d dug in the basement. (And what a pain those were. Ever try to dig secret tunnels in an area full of ghosts without disturbing anyone’s bones and getting a poltergeist infestation in your house? We had to use the stud finder to find the bones and then avoid them. Must have made the whole project take four times as long.) Upstairs in my son’s room, we have the two bantams, Scootaloo the Silkie crossbreed princess, and Ms. Bigglesworth, the white Silkie.

One day, all the outdoor chickens disappear. Gone, without a trace. This is deeply upsetting to me, my boyfriend and both my sons, so when a neighbor comes by and tells us that there are a lot of chickens running around an empty lot up one of the streets behind my house, we’re very hopeful, and we go into action. We take as many cardboard boxes as we can, the kind my wife uses to store books, and the four of us head up there on foot, since my wife is the only person with a car and she’s taken it and my younger daughter to go visit my oldest daughter in college.

Well, we find there are a lot of chickens up there in that empty lot. We find ours, all right – Raspberry and Henry and Marie and Solo – and a whole lot of others. A Barred Rock rooster, two Orpingtons, a Wyandotte, four random Cornish (these are meat birds, rarely found as pets because of their short life spans, so who knows what they were doing up there), a gamecock and two game hens (couldn’t tell whether they were American Game, Old English Game or some other kind, but they were little and the roo was fierce), an Ameraucana, an Easter Egger, a Brahma, a Rhode Island Red and a Jersey Giant, and then there were the really weird ones – a Sumatra, a Yokohama, a Houdan, a large Oshamo, an Onagadori, two ducks, a baby peacock, and a flamingo. I have no idea what those last guys were doing hanging around chickens.

We’re very worried for these chickens. They’re running around free in an abandoned lot and they’re expensive chickens, a lot of them, that someone is probably looking for… and my experience with Animal Control tells me that if they come along and take the chickens, the families who bought these chickens will never see them again. I have a lot more faith in my boyfriend’s ability to find local chicken owners on Craiglist or various neighborhood sites than I do in Animal Control’s willingness to actually look for owners of the chickens. So I tell my boys, and my boyfriend, that we should grab as many chickens as we can – not just our own, but all of them, so we can repatriate them to their correct homes.

We start boxing chickens. For most breeds you can get two in a box. Little chickens, sometimes three. My ninja son is an experienced chicken wrangler and my younger son is good at making a lot of noise and scaring chickens toward my older son, my boyfriend, or me. We get our own chickens boxed up quickly and start boxing the other chickens.

Then this woman I don’t recognize shows up and starts screaming at me that she’s called Animal Control and I don’t have any right to have any of these chickens. I point out that some of these chickens are mine, but she isn’t having any. She accuses me of being a chicken thief and insists that the chickens have to go to Animal Control. I tell my ninja son to get himself, his brother and my boyfriend out of here with all of the chickens they already have in boxes, and I distract the woman by arguing with her that I have every right to my own chickens and all of these chickens are mine or belong to neighbors of mine that I intend to return them to, and there’s no need to call Animal Control, who will probably ship the chickens off to a petting zoo and the owners will never see them again. She’s not having any. I’m the worst person in the universe for taking chickens that belong to me out of a yard they don’t belong in.

I stand there arguing with her until Animal Control actually shows up, at which point I head back home, hoping my boys have been smart enough to stash the extra chickens somewhere safe. Here’s where there’s a problem. I have a permit for four hens. Not the six hens I actually own, where the bantams live in the house half the year; the city doesn’t let you keep chickens in your house, never mind that bantams have a hard time living through the winter if they live outdoors. And not the four roosters I own, because you’re not allowed to own a roo in the city, and also you’re not allowed to keep chickens in your basement, which would be a reasonable prohibition if not for the prohibition on roosters and the fact that you can’t sex chicks worth a damn.

While Animal Control is gathering up the chickens we didn’t get to, plus the ducks and the baby peacock (the flamingo has flown off by this time), this crazy woman follows me back to my house, continuing to harangue me about stealing chickens and she’s going to have Animal Control inspect my house. I turn back toward her. “Do they have a warrant?”

“I – what? They’re Animal Control, they don’t need a warrant!”

“The only entity that doesn’t need a warrant is Child Protective Services. Everyone else – the cops, the FBI, the Time Police, the SCP Foundation – they’re all required to get a warrant. Why do you think Animal Control would be an exception?”

“Okay, well! We’ll go to a judge and see about getting that warrant!”

“And who’s ‘we’? Unless you work for Animal Control, you’ve got nothing to do with them getting a warrant. All you are is a complainant.”

“You’re a terrible person who mistreats chickens!” she shouts. “Your yard is horrible, your lawn is nothing but weeds all year long, you put construction trash out on your parking pad, and you keep six chickens when you’re only allowed to have four! Four! Four chickens and only four chickens!”

I’ve just figured out who called animal control on us the first time, when our chickens were confiscated, and I feel sudden rage. “You seem to pay a lot of attention to my house for someone I’ve never seen before,” I say. “You know that stalking is against the law, right? Maybe I need to get a warrant served on you.”

She flounces back toward Animal Control, but now I know that she knows where I live, that she has some kind of long-standing grudge against me, and Animal Control actually listens to her. This could be bad.

So when I get back to the house I find a zoo waiting for me. My sons released all the chickens… into the house. Argh. “You’ve got to get them into the basement,” I tell my oldest. “Use the secret tunnels and get them out of here before Animal Control arrives!”

Animal Control shows up five minutes later when my sons have just finished boxing chickens, and after I’ve just finished texting my wife about what’s going on so she can get back here. They demand to come inside my property because they say I have illegal chickens. I tell them the only chickens I have are the ones I’m permitted to have. They don’t believe me. They tell me they’re going to go and get a warrant. I tell them to have fun with that. They insist they can hear a rooster inside, and my heart sinks, because they absolutely can. The basement roos have set up a cacophony of crowing in response to the sound of all the chickens who my son has just finished boxing up and who were previously running around my house.

Now they’re telling me that if I don’t let them in to get the roosters they can plainly hear, they are authorized to use force. Since when has Animal Control been so hardcore? I can’t afford to let them in; quite aside from the roosters and all the extra chickens, I have an illegal rabbit and none of the cats have licenses. Plus, there’s a tarantula. I can’t remember whether it’s legal to have a tarantula for a pet around here. “Fine,” I snap at them, and with great regret, I go downstairs, I get Dr. Tran and Lyndon, and I hand them over to them to protect the rest.

Meanwhile my sons are in the basement on the other half of the house, the half owned by my in-laws, and they’re using the secret tunnels we dug under the entire street to deliver chickens to every house on our side of the street. My boys managed to recover 16 out of the 24 chickens or so we found running around in that lot, and my older son the ninja dropped 2 or 3 chickens at each house (he kept the game hens and their roo together and left them in our old enemies’ basement. I haven’t talked about our war with the people down the block whose son has always been a terrible person and who always decorate outrageously for the holidays, but you have to hate people who have a 20 foot Frosty the Snowman on their roof all winter long.)

Animal Control leaves. The woman, who is hanging back in the yard watching Animal Control, leaves. My wife arrives. Now the thing you need to know about my wife is that, at heart, she longs to be Big Sister – like Big Brother, but just surveilling everybody without actually doing anything about it. Also, she can’t recognize faces. She recognizes me because my hair is distinctive, but she always mistakes my oldest daughter for one of her friends with a similar hair color, mixes up my son and my boyfriend a lot because they have vaguely similar hair, and one time stalked a guy through a shopping center because she thought he might be her brother. There was absolutely no reason to think he might be her brother, to be honest, her brother lives in a different state. So she’s got all this software on her PC that does facial recognition and matches it against databases.

She takes the pictures my youngest son took with his cell phone of the crazy woman, runs them through her databases, and gets a hit. The woman lives on the street behind ours where all the back yards got bricked up. Don’t recognize her name at all, and my boyfriend confirms she is not one of the people he corresponds with online who’s a fellow local chicken owner. So we have no idea what this woman has against us, but my wife doesn’t care.

She goes online to those places that want you to subscribe to three dozen print magazines, and subscribes to them all, in the name of the crazy lady up the street. She orders cheap sex toys and has them shipped there. She signs the crazy lady up for a subscription to monthly snacks in the mail, and Book of the Month Club, and yes I want more information about energy choice, please send an agent to my home. She gets the woman’s phone number out of online databases and requests car insurance quotes, home insurance quotes, quotes on solar panels, quotes on home renovation, quotes on exorcising ghosts, and please send me information on cruises and destination vacations. She prints the woman’s name on about fifty shipping labels and starts putting moldy VHS tapes of children’s cartoons from the 1990s into envelopes, creates a fake online business so she can buy a Stamps.com account in the name of the fake online business, uses a prepaid Visa card from the drug store to pay for the postage, and mails all the tapes to the woman… one at a time, every day, for two months. She prints fake labels for empty prescription bottles for AIDS anti-virals and really hardcore anti-psychotic drugs and puts them on the prescription bottles, and she’s gonna have my son drop them off in the yards of the neighbors of the woman, but I point out to her that that’s kind of ableist because her entire idea revolves around getting revenge by making the neighbors think the woman is sick, so she shelves that idea.

You don’t mess with my wife.

Animal Control comes back with a warrant the next day. We show them around the house. See? No chickens here. No chickens in our yard, they disappeared. No chickens anywhere in the house! We don’t open any of the doors to the other side of the duplex, so they don’t know that the other side of the house is also ours and therefore they don’t know about the chickens that belong to us that we hid in the basement over there, nor do they know about the secret tunnels we have running under our entire street so they don’t know about the random chickens in the neighbors’ basements. My boyfriend reports that on his neighborhood forums, lots of people are complaining they can hear rooster noises, but they can’t find any roosters, because none of them expect to find roosters in their basements, so they don’t look.

After Animal Control leaves, we go down to the shelter where they drop the confiscated animals, and try to claim four of the eight chickens that got picked up yesterday because if this works, then we’ll find who in the neighborhood lost their chickens and try to get them back to them. We’re told that the confiscated chickens have already been identified as to who they belong to and their owner has picked them up.

Owner, not owners. Remember, you’re only allowed to have 4 chickens per house in this city, but someone managed to get eight.

My son retrieves the various chickens he’d been hiding in people’s basements, we pile them all into the car, and we drive to my boyfriends’ parents’ farm in Canada. Extradite these chickens, assholes. When the heat dies down we can try to find their real owners, we figure. Meanwhile we retrieve our own chickens from the basement on the other side of the house, put four out in the yard and put the two roosters in with the bantam hens, then think better of it and remove MeToo and make him a house rooster. He wears a chicken diaper well enough and he never crows anyway, and Eggy bullies the crap out of him so it’s best he doesn’t stay in an enclosed environment with him.

Then my youngest daughter comes home from school with a story. Apparently there are wild chickens in the woods near our house. What?

I should explain this. We live in a city, but we live close enough to the outskirts and to various parks that there are small patches of nature all over the place. The “woods” is about a block long and four trees deep, hardly what I’d consider woods, but it’s a good place to dump possums when you find them hiding in your laundry room. (Yes. Possums in our laundry room. Lots of them.) So my son and I go back there, and sure as day, yes, there are chickens back there. All of the chickens that got confiscated from that yard, plus additional chickens who have been disappearing from people’s flocks all year. Either somebody has been stealing chickens and then keeping them in a mega-flock in the woods… or the chickens have been escaping, and gathering together.

We leave the chickens where they are; I’m no narc, to rat out chickens who maybe just want to be free. But my son and I do put up wire fencing to keep our chickens from joining them, because one off-leash dog and those chickens could be in a world of hurt. We do notify the other chicken owners in the neighborhood about the woods chickens, and over the next few days, several of the chickens disappear from the woods as they’re retrieved by their owners.

Meanwhile, my wife has continued her vendetta against the crazy lady. She has my son go over in the middle of the night and throw trash into the yard, which she stole from trash cans in the park so there’s nothing that can be tied back to us, and then calls 311 in the morning to report that the woman’s yard is full of trash. She inspects our car every day to make sure no one has slashed the tires, but she uses a ballpeen hammer to break the crazy lady’s headlight because that will get her a ticket. I tell her to let it go. She buys a bale of hay and throws it in the woman’s yard. And she’s still sending moldy videotapes.

A For Sale sign pops up on the woman’s house. We’re currently extending the tunnel network over there so we can sneak in and leave tripe in the air conditioning system and dead rats. It’s not next door to our house, so there’s a very good chance that my wife actually could buy it, this time.

Never found out why she had a grudge against us, but she’s moving out, so who cares.

#52 project #alara original writing #chickens

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universallywriting · 5 years ago

Text

Drive Home

Steven's breath puffed in the air as he came to sit beside her, feet crunching in the frost and pine needles. He was glad they'd planned it the way they did, just cold enough so the Rocky Mountains were dusted with snow. Specks of brown and green covered the mounds that swallowed up the horizon, towering and beautiful, almost touchably close and endlessly far at the same time. Pine trees circled close around them, boulders jutting up from the earth, and he came to sit down on one beside Connie with a smile.

It was odd up in the mountains. Occasionally hikers would pass them by, or a family of tourists, but off the more well-worn trails that was rare. It was still odd for Steven, who so rarely traveled, to see so many people pass him by that he didn’t know the names of. So often he felt like he should see Buck’s familiar deadpan face, or hear Jenny’s laugh from one of the people that passed him by.

But the only familiar face was Connie’s. The thermos of tea he had brought her was hot in the metal flask. When they drove lower, he would switch back to her favorite black teas, carefully measured with swirls of honey and just the right kind of milk to make her smile. But high up in the mountains, the water didn’t boil hot enough.

Just thinking of her face the first morning she’d tried to make them both tea at 10,000 feet was enough to make him smile. The weak brew had made her nose wrinkle up in confusion, baffled at her perfectly measured cup failing, before she burst into giggles and explained the correlation between how water boiled and the altitude.

She was so brilliant. He handed it to her, enjoying the feel of being stupidly in love and out in the world alone with her before murmuring, “How do you feel?”

"Small. But in a good way. You?" She took a deep breath of mountain air, looking over the landscape. He wondered if she felt the same as him, or if we-moved-a-lot Connie never felt that same warm loneliness.

"Same." He smiled and looked back out. Questions about wanting to see familiar faces could be saved for the road home when they were barefoot and bored. “Wish I had come to places like this more often. Oceans are beautiful but... Nothing makes you feel more like a speck than a mountain. It's comforting."

"Just another little person, running across a big marble." She nudged him softly with her free hand. "Gets a little too much when you really see the marble though. I think going out in space can make Earth feel a little too small."

Steven nodded. "Yeah. This is a good middle ground. Earth feels big. I feel small. I like it this way.”

“Why don’t we stay?” Connie asked lightly. “Drive around forever.”

“I could be happy getting lost in these woods,” he agreed, but there was no weight to it. There was no weight to her words either. They swept away in the breeze, tumbling down stone and needles and babbling brooks to the world beneath.

"Me too." Her fingers wrapped tight around the sketchbook in her lap, the cover digging into her skin just at the brink of hurting. "I'm, um... I'm done with it, by the way. With my portfolio. I’ll submit it in the morning."

"That's great!" Steven said, throwing his arm around her shoulders with an eager squeeze. His lips found her temple in a reassuring kiss, seeing the nerves in the stiff lines of her body. "I'm so proud of you. Did the landscapes turn out the way you wanted?"

She opened her sketchbook and Steven eagerly looked over her shoulder, never tiring of the contents. It started with the temple. The morning they left Steven had found her on the beach, wrapped up in a hoodie in the early dawn chill, sketching his home and occasionally sipping at a coffee that had gone cold, and though she had insisted it wasn’t important, he had happily delayed their start until she finished.

Connie flipped to fields of grain. Traveling the midwest had been much less exciting than he expected. Keystone had rolled by and their eyes had glazed over as everything seemed to be the same three trees and two rocks. They had burst into Buckeye and passed through Kansas and had mumbled incoherently about corn while the radio tried to keep them alive and driving. That night they had stared at Connie’s grain drawing with a ghostly horror, neither of them remembering when she had drawn the stuff.

She moved past a drawing of rolling grassy hills. In Nebraska, he had floated to the top of the RV with her. While she drew, he had read about the Great Plains on his phone. They had taken a moment, in warm breeze and isolation, to let tears hit their eyes and cries choke their lungs as they read about what happened to buffalo who had roamed there once. They had whispered about colonies of all kinds, and there was no one around to reassure them, so they took the time to mourn things that might have been.

They had done the same in sand dunes, or close to it. The sketch she passed held more memory than a picture, the grays of her pencil capturing more than just the desert, but him breaking down over Kindergartens sucking life from the earth. Another sketch just after, with a lovely pink flower blossoming on top of a cactus, and he could hear her voice reassuring, “Nothing’s as lifeless as you’d think.”

Connie paused on his favorite, the polar bear she had sketched from the San Diego Zoo. They had spent such a long day there, but when they got to the polar bears she had stopped and gushed about them. The Spirit Morph saga had inspired her to do research, and she rambled facts. Polar bears had terrible success rates, with only two percent of their hunts being successful, did he know?

He really liked that idea. The largest bear of all, living in such a harsh environment, failed almost all the time. It fumbled and watched as victory slipped away, but it came back to try another day. It survived.

She finished on a sweeping mountain landscape, not too different from the one they sat in now. Connie set her phone next to it, a copy of her finished project next to the rougher draft. "That's the last one," she said quietly, pointing to the screen. "I think it turned out okay."

"It makes Earth look beautiful. I’d put it in a gem brochure," he reassured. “You chose a lot of amazing stuff.”

She bit her lower lip. “I hope so. I tried to choose what a school would think is best, not just the stuff I think is great. The stuff that shows skill, you know?

He kissed her cheek this time, saying, "Any school is going to be lucky to have you. You're amazing, Connie."

"I'm okay," she said, voice very practical about her own skills. Connie looked at him with a little laugh. "I don't know what's scarier - getting rejected or getting in. Mom was mad enough about the world US road trip gap year."

"She got over it! You know, after the meltdown." Steven said, wincing a little at the memory. He had sat behind her, trying to support her as quietly as possible while Priyanka and Connie growled and snapped at one another, each insisting on how the next year should be spent. And, at the end, the tearful apologies, the confessions of fear over the future… He had to admit that it was a relatable feeling, even if no one had fought with him.

"She'll get over this too. Come on. This is what you've always wanted. You're going to be an animator, Connie,” he said, and just saying the word made her eyes go a little wide with hope.

He remembered her earliest drawings with him, rougher but already so much nicer than his own. He remembered her working through how to draw anime books, silly cat-eared characters with huge eyes. Steven remembered her fumbling beyond that, hours of Tubetube tutorials, crying at the tablet he got her for her birthday, the countless gifts of fanart for his favorite shows. He remembered trembling hands the first time she showed him a comic, with characters he had never seen, because she had snatched them from the air the way he grabbed music.

Steven knew he was tearing up again like he did every time he told her, but he could never hold it back. “It’s what you live for, Connie. It’s what makes you happy. You're going to tell stories."

Connie breathed again, taking in pine and chill and rocks older than even the Crystal Gems by orders of magnitude. The world was big and wide and old, the universe even more so, and usually that made her problems feel small. But nothing could swallow up the fear and doubt today. She took his hand tight in her own.

"This has been amazing. Driving across the country, seeing all these different parts of the world, pitstops to warps so we can see everything Earth has to offer. Steven, I..." She looked up at him, shaking her head in disbelief. "These past ten months have been the best months of my life. Everyone said we were going to get sick of each other. Your dad gave us that speech about how it was okay to bail. Everyone thought we were going to mess this up but... I'd do this for another year if it wasn't for college."

He was careful not to jostle her phone or sketchbook from her lap as he lifted her hand and pressed it to his lips. "I loved this. I love you. No expectations. No scary future. No responsibilities. Just a big journey together.”

“I’m glad you loved it as much as I did,” she said with a smile.

“More than that. I needed it.” He laughed and shook his head. “Connie, I never could have asked for anything better than this. Everything at home was a mess. I’m so tired of all the work and responsibility and wondering what I’m going to do with my life. But this past year I just got to be with you and not be afraid."

"But now we have to go home," she whispered looking at the RV parked behind them. The place where they slept and ate. The place where they made stupid jokes and listened to terrible radio and podcasts. The place where they’d cried and kissed and worked through things they never thought they’d work through. But that was over now, and it loomed like a hearse. “We have to get in there and drive all the way back to Beach City. And then I... I have to wait to see if I get accepted.”

She laughed, cold and bitter, and took a hand to wipe at her eyes. He couldn’t see any tears falling, but Connie felt them stinging. “I’ve messed up on a lot of stuff, Steven. I know I seem smart, but most of it is from studying so hard. I’m not… special. I’m not talented. The odds are good they’re not gonna want me. And if they don't, I guess I'll go be a doctor or something. And, if they do, I..."

I’m screwed either way.

Steven shook his head hard. "You'll be an animator," he insisted. He took the thermos and set it aside, untouched, just so he could take both her hands in his. "You'll do exactly what you've been doing ever since I met you - telling stories. You'll finally get to be who you've always wanted to be."

She winced. "But my mom-"

"Who cares?" Steven said, barely holding back his temper. "We spent a year, just the two of us! You don’t need her to agree."

"Ten months," she corrected softly. "But, you're right. We did."

Steven didn’t like his temper. He didn’t like how angry he got. He didn’t like how easily he could drag Connie into it, drown her in it when they fused. He felt guilty about that. He worried about that a lot, that maybe his anger meant he wasn’t as good of a person as he liked to try to be. He loved Dr. and Mr. Maheswaran, didn’t he? His anger shouldn’t be so burning and flaring when all they wanted was for Connie to be safe.

But his feelings for her parents got tangled in his own, and when he started down that path he felt that little voice hissing that they should leave them alone, and that they could do things on their own, and for once they wanted to live their own lives and forge their own paths, and was it really so much to ask for unconditional support in that?

Steven took a steady breath to calm himself. "She should be in your life. The gems should be in my life. But nobody... Nobody gets to tell you what to do with it. It took me so long to figure that out. I didn't get that making other people happy and hurting yourself to meet their expectations aren't the same thing. I spent my whole life trying to be my mom. I didn't know what to do when I wasn't."

Connie nodded weakly. "I know."

He took her face in his hands, pressing her forehead to hers. "You're not your mom. You never have been. You don’t love rules and coloring inside the lines. You sneak candy into movies and find loopholes in the law and climb giant robots and... And you love books. And comics. And television. You love survival."

Steven flipped back to the polar bear, gently tapping the page. "You drew this because of the warrior bears in the Spirit Morph Saga, because those books meant everything to you, and you want to make something like that for other people. That’s who you are. You want to inspire people like people who have inspired you."

She closed her eyes, trying not to cry. “I know. But I’m… I don’t know if I…”

“I’ve seen you capture Pearl on a page, and I can see all her determination and all her fear at the same time,” he whispered. “I’ve seen you draw your dad as a superhero, with a goofy flashlight and a big smile, because that’s who he was when you were small. You… You drew me, Connie.”

His thumbs smoothed over her cheeks as he took a shuddering breath. “You drew me the way you love me. It was just me, sleepy in our RV, and I looked peaceful and happy and I was looking outside and… and I could feel the way I love our stupid little rock. I was human and not human and I loved it, Connie. You made me feel so much.”

“I know, Steven. I know you feel the things I make but…” She whimpered, the tears he hadn’t seen before finally rolling. “What if I'm not good enough? What if I reach for Kansas and burn out halfway there?"

Steven hugged her tight, and let her bury her face in his shoulder. They were all alone up there, softly rustling trees holing them up from the terrifying landscape ahead. But there were such beautiful things below, pressed into the pages of Connie’s sketchbook, and it was time to face them all.

“I’ll pick you up.” His face buried in her hair, thoughts of their families fresh in his mind, and there was only one thing to promise, "I'll drive you home. And we'll all love you anyway."

#jamweek #steven universe #connverse #connie maheswaran #su fanfic

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embeanwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Finding Home Gavin Reed x Reader

Chapter 21

Masterlist

Two months had passed without any incidents. Between classes, hanging out with dad and Connor, dates with Gavin, and helping Tina get ready for her wedding I had been really busy. I could feel the stark difference that just a year had. This time last year I was alone in a small office pouring over my research telling myself that this is the weekend I’ll hang out with people, but something always came up. I had a hard time believing how different my life is now.

My students had just taken their first tests and their scores were decently high. They all seemed really engaged in the material. As for their daily assignments, many were bringing news articles I wouldn’t have thought to bring. I’ve had a few students come to my office hours to try to debate if androids are alive, but I reminded them of my policy and that it wasn’t up for debate. Besides that it was clear that many of them were enjoying the class. They were also becoming excited because Gavin and Nines had agreed to come answer questions and talk to the class in two weeks. I was still working on convincing dad. Connor was all for it, but dad doesn’t seem to like the idea of having to answer college kids’ questions about androids and the revolution.

We’ve been having weekly movie nights at dad’s house. We had made our way through all the Muppet movies and were now watching movies that had to do with robots, which was Gavin and dad’s vote. When Gavin isn’t working, he comes too. He still slips up around Connor, but it’s clear to both of us that Gavin is really trying. Which has helped my dad warm up to him, but he still gives him a hard time any chance he gets.

I think dad’s really happy that I’ve been referring to Connor as my brother and him referring to me as his sister. He hasn’t said anything directly to either of us, but he hasn’t said anything against it. Which is pretty much his style of handling emotions.

Because of Gavin’s schedule we hadn’t had a lot of time for traditional dates, but he’s certainly come up with interesting ideas. Two weeks ago, he got off at midnight, picked me up, and we went to a late-night arcade. It ended up being really fun with him winning me some dumb prizes. Most nights we spend at his place, which is nice because then I can count on him to drive me to work since it’s been colder in Detroit. The cats are an added bonus. Tina ended up “forcing” Gavin to formally ask me to be his date to her wedding. Which was unceremoniously asked in a group chat Tina made with the three of us and she just sent “ASK HER” over and over again until Gavin sent a text.

Outside of harassing Gavin on my behalf, Tina’s been extremely calm about the wedding. She very rarely loses her cool anyway, but as the date has gotten closer, she’s become more and more excited. We ended up going with no bachelorette party because both Tina and Valerie’s schedules are too crazy and so are their friends’ schedules. Besides neither of them really felt the need to celebrate their “last night of freedom.”

Gavin, Connor, and dad had decided to carpool to the wedding since I had to go early to help Tina get ready. Gavin and Connor tried to convince Nines to come, but he cited that someone had to be working.

“Are you nervous?” I asked Tina as I pinned her hair up. She looked beautiful in her black suit. She had decided to wear her hair pinned up to look like a crown with light yellow and pink flowers woven in. We had watched at least ten tutorials the night before. Tina had spent the night at my apartment so her and Valerie wouldn’t see each other until she walked down the aisle. Tina thought it was stupid, but Valerie insisted.

“More excited than nervous.”

“You know I’m going to cry, right?”

“I would get mad if you didn’t.” We both laughed. I looked at both of us in the mirror and she smiled.

“I can’t believe you’re getting married. Sometimes I still feel like we’re eight years old pretending to be all grown up.” She laid her head back, so she was looking up at me instead of through the mirror.

“I’m just so happy, (Y/n). With you being back and getting to marry the love of my life. Things are just…perfect.”

“Stop, you’re going to make me cry before the wedding starts!” She laughed and wiped away her own tears.

“Oh, just you wait for my speech, T. You’re going to be bawling.”

The ceremony was beautiful. It took place at the Gem & Colony Club. It looks like an old timey movie theatre, with the guest sitting on couches and the wedding party being where the screen used to be, now that wall is covered with windows. Valerie’s mom walked her down the aisle and Valerie looked amazing in her ball gown type dress. Woven in the white were little pieces of blush pink and yellow, their wedding colors, and Tina never took her eyes off her. They both had four “best people” most I didn’t recognize outside of meeting them at the rehearsal dinner. The moment Tina spotted her, they both started crying. There’s about 50 people at the wedding. I recognize Tina’s friends from the DPD and her immediate family, on Valerie's side I only know her parents from the rehearsal dinner.

The wedding was officiated by one of Valerie’s family friends who kept it short and sweet. Which gives the brides time to shine with their vows.

“Tina, not only today am I becoming your wife, but I get to marry my favorite person. I love how strong you are, how you’re not afraid to back down. You do everything with pride and from the moment I met you I knew I needed to have you in my life. You give me so much happiness, Tina. I love you so much and I can’t wait to start the rest of our lives together.”

“Valerie, when I met you I was career obsessed and single minded. I didn’t really have a personal life outside of work and old friends. When I met you I never wanted to be without you. I’m convinced I didn’t know true happiness until I first saw your smile. I can’t even pinpoint the moment I knew I was going to marry you. One day I just woke up and realized I couldn’t go on without holding your hand, hearing you laugh, or just laying next to you. Valerie Morales you are my world and I love you with all that I am.”

After the brides exchanged their vows the officiate announced them wife and wife. Tina, not waiting for him to tell her, grabs Valerie, dips her, and kisses her with the biggest smile. I look over to dad, Connor, and Gavin to see them standing with everyone clapping and hollering.

The reception was held in another room of the theatre. It was more bright and open than the previous room with a wooden dance floor in the middle surrounded by white tables. Tina and Valerie had decided, regardless of the chaos it would create, that people could sit wherever they wanted and the two planned to float from table to table. I ended up sitting at a table with dad, Connor, Gavin, Chris, and Chris’ wife. We were all eating our entrees and waiting for the speeches to start.

“Are you nervous for your speech, (Y/n)?” Chris asked me. I shrugged.

“I’m nervous, but I’m always nervous when it comes to speeches.”

“But (Y/n), you’re a professor.” Connor said with a tilt of his head.

“Academic and emotional speeches are two very different things.” I said with a chuckle. I felt Gavin grab my hand underneath the table. I interlaced my fingers with his. “Besides, I’m going second which is the best position.”

“Who’s first?” Dad asked.

“Valerie’s best man.” I took a sip of my champagne, as if he was waiting for me to mention it he started tapping his glass with a knife.

Ross, Valerie’s little brother, gave a heartwarming speech about how growing up he could always count on Valerie and how happy he is that she now has someone she can always count on. He tells Tina to take care of his big sister, which makes Valerie’s mom start crying. Valerie’s whole family looks so proud.

When he was done, I stood up and walked over to where he was. I took a deep breath and grabbed the mic.

“Hi everyone, I’m (Y/n) (L/n). Tina has been my best friend since we were little. I wasn’t very social as a kid and I remember being in the second grade and sitting on the swings alone, when Tina walked up to me. She looked me up and down and announced that I was now her best friend and she was mine. I didn’t know what to think of this bossy girl, but what did I have to lose? Following her around and listening to Tina talk about whatever was on her mind was one of the best decisions I’d ever made. Even after me and my mom moved away, there was no one else in my life I talked to as much as her. There was no one else who made me feel like I wasn’t alone. Anything I needed I knew I could count on Tina. I can’t even count the number of times she has called me to make sure I was okay and making sure I was taking care of myself in college. Tina is one of the most kind hearted and dedicated person on this planet. When Tina told me about meeting Valerie for the first time over the phone I could hear her smile through the phone and I knew I would be hearing more about Valerie. Valerie, you make Tina happier than I’ve ever seen her and I’m so happy and proud for both of you. I’m so grateful that my best friend found her soulmate. I wish you two all the best.” As I finished, Tina ran up from her seat and gave me a bear hug and I squeezed her right back. I pulled her back to look at her and laughed when I realized we were both crying. “I told you’d cry.” She laughed with me as others clapped.

After our hug, we both returned to our seats as Tina’s dad got up to give a speech. I was only half listening as I wiped the remaining of my tears and Gavin grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze. I turned to him and smiled. Out of the corner of my eye I saw my dad look at us and smile slightly.

Over the next twenty minutes, Valerie’s father, Valerie, and Tina all gave speeches. There wasn’t a single dry eye in the house. It was all very touching and had me bawling like a baby.

Shortly after the speeches, the brides had their first dance to a slow and sweet song. After the dance the party had really gotten started. We were all still sitting at our table except Chris and his wife who were dancing with the crowd.

“Your speech was nice, (Y/n).” Dad told me and I smiled.

“Thank you, dad.” I looked over at the dance floor, Tina was holding Valerie closely as they swayed to the music.

“Wanna dance, pipsqueak?” I looked over to Gavin, who was standing holding his hand out towards me. I put my hand in his and he pulled me up. We made our way to the dance floor as a slow song started. I put my arms around Gavin’s neck and he gently held my waist. He smiled at me as we began to sway. “You look stunning.” He murmured in my ear, causing goosebumps to cover my arms. I could feel his warm breath on my neck.

“And you look very handsome.” I whispered. He was so close, but instead of his usual smell of smoke and mint, all I could smell was mint. Gavin gently pulled back and I was drawn into his eyes. Gavin’s eyes were a light shade of gray, similar to how the clouds looked right before a storm. I realized, Gavin was a storm and I was in the middle of it with no umbrella, and I loved it.

“I wanna kiss you, but your dad’s staring.” He said under his breath.

“Oh, grow a pair, Reed.” That was all the “encouragement” Gavin needed to give me a fervent kiss, that if he hadn’t been holding my waist, I would’ve fallen to the ground.

I swear this man was going to be the end of me.

#gavin reed x reader #gavin reed #tina chen #hank anderson #connor rk800 #detroit become human #dbh #x reader

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iamfitzwilliamdarcy · 5 years ago

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Title: Agony! That Can Cut Like a Knife Summary: Tim Drake loves Gotham Sports, but Gotham Sports do not love Tim back (AO3) A/N: I put too many italics in this for a tumblr post smh. Apologies in advance to citizens of Newark, my only encounters with New Jersey have been on the Turnpike and a view of the skyline across the river from a rooftop bar in Manhattan. Kinda want to apologize to Devils fans but maybe not enough to actually Do It.

For anyone who cares I set a Gotham Sports Team Roster because same names are used for different sports in different universes and this is what I decided to go with:

Football: Knights Hockey: Bats Baseball: Colonials Basketball: Buzzards

There was a low, pained groan from a couch in the main living room. Pained enough Bruce stopped to check it out. Jason was sitting in an armchair, eyeing the couch’s occupant with a particular kind of disbelieving, annoyed distaste.

Bruce couldn’t see who it was because they were slumped down, laying on the cushions. He peeked over to find Tim, hands peeking out of the too-long sleeves of his black Gotham Bats jersey. They covered his face, but he was looking through his fingers to watch the TV intensely.

Bruce followed Tim’s gaze to see the score and winced. “Still early in the season,” he said bracingly.

“Early?” Jason snorted. “It’s December.”

Tim did not respond, still watching intensely. He dropped his hands at a particularly bad turn-over to shout, “Oh come on!”

“Pace yourself,” Jason said, giving him that look again. “Or you won’t last to April. And we’ll need you in April.”

“Jason,” Tim said, sounding calm and intense, even as the game breaks away for a commercial. “I have never been chill about this team a day in my life.”

Jason muttered something that sounded like “Clearly.”

Bruce had been busy the past couple of months and hadn’t had much time to keep up with Gotham’s sports teams. Not that there had been much to keep up with. The Knights had ended their season quietly, as they had for the past decade--no playoff games, no Super Bowl hopes. There had been a brawl between teammates during a late season practice, but the team had kept that mostly hush-hush.

Hockey was only two months in but--well, he could see the score on the TV to see how that was going. The Buzzards, he’d read in the paper just that morning, weren’t doing much better.

He hadn’t had much time to hang out with his kids, either. He settled down next to Tim on the couch to watch, just in time for the game to return to commercials and a fight to break out over the face-off circle.

The second period closed with Gotham on a PowerPlay for another 1:30. Bruce got up to get snacks (“Popcorn,” Jason said, “With M&Ms!” Tim added.)

“Bruce,” Tim said balefully, staring up at him with wide eyes as Gotham gave up a shorthanded goal and their goalie broke his stick against the crossbar. “Will you buy the me Bats, please?”

“I had a chat with Joseph Higgens last week, actually,” Bruce said casually.

Tim twisted around so suddenly he almost startled even Bruce. “Higgens?” Tim repeated in an incredulous hiss. “Higgens? The Devils, Bruce, really, have you no loyalty? You’re a traitor, this is treason!”

Jason turned his laugh into a cough,, and Bruce opened his mouth in defense of his Gotham pride, but Tim was working himself into a state. “You don’t just give up on your team because they keep losing! That’s your team, you can’t just choose any old other team in your state. You don’t get to choose, Bruce! You can’t just turn your back on Gotham!

“And Newark! Nobody wants to live in Newark. I’d rather die than live in Newark, jot that down Jason, I want that in my Advance Directives.”

“Fair,” Jason said, nodding. He had died, and he had been to Newark. He understood.

Tim steamrolled on, not even acknowledging he’d been validated. “Wait, are you sending me to Newark, a city I hate, to own the Devils, the team I hate? Why,” and Tim, to Bruce’s horror, sounded tearful, “do you hate me, B?”

“Tim,” Bruce said, a little helplessly. “Tim, honey, I was joking.”

He leaned over and lays a hand across Tim’s forehead. He felt a shade too warm, but not feverish enough to cause such a response. It was probably the jersey anyway.

“I’m not sick, Bruce,” Tim said mulishly. Then, suspiciously, “Did you call me honey? You don’t do that. You are sending me to Newark.”

He flopped over on the couch and buried his head into his arms. This was probably a good thing as Gotham was scored against again.

“Just put us out of our misery,” Tim mumbled.

“What’s wrong with Drake?” Damian had come in, Dick not far behind, juggling the leftover popcorn Bruce had left on the counter, and he stood, arms folded, lip curling as he examined Tim. “He looks more pathetic than usual.”

“Ah Timmy,” Dick said sympathetically, glancing at the screen. “A little early for the annual Gotham Sports-Induced emotional breakdown, isn’t it?”

“Fuck you and your seocnd rate Bludhaven ECHL team, Dick,” Tim snarled, words, but not his ire, muffled by the couch pillow and his own arms.

Dick blinked, unsure how to respond, and silence rang through the room, though Jason’s silence sounded suspiciously like silent laughter.

Tim turned over. “I’m sorry,” he said, meeting Dick’s eyes. “That was ugly.”

Then, balefully, “Bruce is sending me to Newark to live amongst filth. Please say your goodbyes now as I am not much longer for this world.”

“I am not sending you to Newark, Tim, for God’s sake,” Bruce snapped.

“I’ll miss you, buddy,” Dick said solemnly, patting Tim’s back as he sat down on the kid’s legs. He offered Tim some of the popcorn.

“You didn’t put M&M’s in,” Tim accused, but ate a handful anyway.

“If you care,” Bruce said, coming back on the other side of the couch and throwing himself into his recliner. A cat streaked away from where he’d been about to sit and Damian threw him a filthy look, “I tried to buy the Bats for your birthday last month, but the bastard Eliot cousin won’t sell.”

“Honestly, Bruce,” Jason said, leaning back, “How are you the richest man in Gotham and you don’t own a single team?”

“No one will sell to me,” Bruce said glumly. “I tried to get the Knights a few years back, when they were about to go bankrupt, but Stan Diner wouldn’t let me.”

“He’s a Cobblepot cousin,” Jason said, casually, turning back to his book.. “The Penguin funds him. It’s shady.”

Bruce frowned at him. “How did I not know that?”

“Mm,” Jason said, not looking up. “I know something you don’t. I have connections you don’t. And you said the mob wouldn’t pay,” he lowers his voice in a stern imitation, “Mob boss isn’t a career path, Jason, you said, but look who’s got the insider knowledge.”

Bruce closed his eyes and breathed in deeply.

Midway through his calming breath, Damian said, haughtily, “This sport is respectable.”

He opened his eyes to see a Gotham player dropping his glove and raining, admittedly admirable, rights on an opposing player.

“Have you never seen a hockey game?” Dick asked, frowning.

“God, I wish that were me,” Tim said, when Damian shook his head.

“Bruce,” Dick said, in that disappointed parent tone that always upset Bruce’s sense of order “You haven’t taken him to a game?”

“We haven’t had much time,” Bruce replied. Then, defensively, “I’ve taken him to many museums!”

“That’s barely culture!” Dick said.

“You take Dick to games?” Tim asked.

“He has box seats,” Jason put in.

Bruce wasn’t sure how this had turned on him.

“WE has box seats,” Bruce snapped. “Not me.”

“Bruce,” Tim said, looking at him with wide eyes that made him look sad and young. “You had box seats to the Bats and you never told me, the CEO of Wayne Enterprises?”

“He used to take me all the time,” Jason, the son whom he loved, said, betraying him, while Dick shook his head sadly.

“Me too,” Dick added. “He’s got seats at the Knights, Buzzards, Colonials, Tim, he never told you?”

“No,” Tim said miserably, peeking at Bruce from his forlorn place on the couch. “Never.”

“They go to a WE family in a lottery system!” Bruce insisted.

“I am a WE family!” Tim said back. Then, abruptly, roared at the TV, “Fucking refs, I swear!”

“I guess it has been a while since we’ve all had a family outing to a sports endeavor,” Bruce admitted.

“Well don’t make it sound like textbook disease, B,” Dick said, rolling his eyes.

“The Bats play the Monarchs next week and I’m fully expecting to lose and also Tim Winston to fight at least three players,” Tim said.

“At the same time,” Jason added.

“I hope he gets his ass kicked,” Tim said.

“He won’t,” Jason said. “But he might get suspended again.”

“Boys,” Bruce said absently, thinking.

“You’ll take us, won’t you, B?” Tim said, suddenly pleading.

“I’ll call HR and make sure they haven’t gone for lottery yet,” Bruce agreed.

“A box seat,” Tim sighed wistfully, flopping back against the arm rest. “This whole time. To think I used to take Steph on dates to the nosebleeds.”

“Invite her,” Bruce said. “Barbara too,” he added at Dick.

“And Jonathan?” Damian asked, stiffly.

“If you want a Monarchs fan tagging along, sure,” Tim said, disgust evident.

“Tim,” Bruce scolded. Then, “Of course Jonathan can come. I’ll call Clark tomorrow.”

He looked around at his family, suddenly feeling warm. A day at the box seats at a Gotham Bats game would be good, fun bonding for them all.

“Fuck you, ref!” Tim yelled suddenly at the TV.

Jason shouted after, “And the horse you rode in on!”

Well, Bruce could hope.

#tim drake #jason todd #batfam #bruce wayne #dick grayson #damian wayne #gotham sports #fanfic tag #my fic #katie's adventures in writing

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