#apparently this does not hurt the goats

[markscherz]

why are you skeptical of the current explaintion for Brachycephalus's landing issues? 👀

Basically, Brachycephalus are the only miniaturised frogs that seem to have these problems, and there are other frogs with equally small vestibular systems that work fine. I have seen tiny Stumpffia jump over a metre and then jump again moments later, which Brachycephalus are apparently incapable of.

Moreover, the behaviour we see in Brachycephalus is not just disorientation, which I think should be accompanied by wild flailing, but more closely resembles the spontaneous myotonic stiffening that occurs in fainting goats. Compare:

We also know that the entire otic capsule of Brachycephalus is, to use the scientific terminology, fucked, leading to the seemingly impossible but apparently confirmed consequence that they cannot hear their own calls. This is dramatically different from most if not all other miniaturised frogs.

So basically, I think Brachycephalus are a special case, and that the current explanation that supposes that the fluid of the semicircular canals cannot travel fast enough to allow orientation, is at best genus-specific and not miniaturisation-determined, and at worst simply wrong. Hence, I have a grant application seeking to test it in other miniaturised frogs. It has been rejected before, so I am not holding my breath, but it would be nice to be able to look into this.

[pressureplus]

this blog is the goat i love it sm :) totally get if it's too much but i'd love drunk seb headcanons. thnx ❤️

LOVELY, YOUVE GOT THE BIGGEST BRAIN ANON /POS

♡Drunk Sebastian Solace Headcannons♡

Warnings: Intoxication, Warnings to not Fuck The Fish™️, Brief Sexual Content

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

First off, getting him drunk isn’t gonna be easy

His body is significantly bigger so it’ll take a lot more alcohol than a normal human person

That and he could already hold his drinks well, so it’ll take some work to get that man actually drunk instead of just buzzed

Don’t try to match him drink for drink, you WILL die of alcohol poisoning unless you’re an alcoholic

Which wouldn’t matter he’d still out drink you based on weight/size alone, so I guess try not to die is the only goal?

Doesn’t feel comfortable drunk around most people unless you’re BOTH that kind of tipsy or he’s already close with you

When you do actually get him drunk?

The flirtiest, giggliest drunk you’re ever met

Sebastian will laugh at literally everything, it makes him so much easier to talk with

The world is sunshine and rainbows as long as he’s really fucked up

Honestly? He deserves it. He’ll smile at you so softly and actually fully listen when you talk. Maybe he’s not the brightest, or most talkative, but he has weirdly good advice

Though he is super giggly and playful, he does flirt

Usually they’re kind of fun. They’re not meant to really invoke any real feelings

“Hey there hot stuff, you lookin for a chair?” As he pats a portion of his tail.

He WILL forget that he flirted with you later, so don’t try to corner him on it as some kind of gotcha moment. He won’t believe you.

It also doesn’t reflect his feelings entirely…well unless he really likes you.

He’ll get a bit tongue tied and may even let it slip that he thinks you’re just gorgeous

His flirting gets very personal if he has a thing for you, but it’s less frequent because the man is too busy squirming from just sitting with you

Think flustered school girl energy

If he likes you he will do ANYTHING you ask

Please don’t try to fuck the fish, he isn’t very smart and he’s not gonna be able to top you

You’d have to do 100% of the work, and he wouldn’t remember most of it tomorrow anyway

He will probably just fall into a fit of giggles at the offer, honestly, so the likelihood of it happening is like nothing

So unless you’re both so drunk you’re not thinking straight? Don’t do it. Dont even try it.

If he doesn’t like you in that way? You might actually die for attempting it. It’s not worth it.

Speaking of not worth it, that man loses so much motor function. His tail is apparently weirdly hard to control all the way

Will prefer to just sit with you and not go anywhere as he will not have the control necessary to do damn near anything

He tried only once to go do something while really fucked up

Stupid fishman got stuck in a vent for a few hours

Worst experience of his life, (drunk fishman claims) he would never ever do it again

He’s the kind of man that sings when he’s drunk too, but only if you do it with him. He mimics like a parrot.

Or if you manage to play songs with him somehow, he might sing them if he vibes with or knows the song

Get a man to sing your favorite songs horribly at an octave that outright hurts

Idk something like California Girls by Katy Perry? Have fun with it

He can’t exactly dance really well but he might do a fun little shimmy if the music pleases him enough

Have fun doing your shared little dances, drinking to forget (always remembering), and laughing about nonsense

I’m sure, as long as you get him something strong and a whole lot of it

The both of you will get along fine!

After all, he likes people that get him gifts like this a little more

[queers-gambit]

The Battle Above the God’s Eye

part one: Sands of Time

prompt: decades after the Stepstones, it's his turn to be rescued.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 6.3k+

note: i'm not the happiest with this piece, so i'll most definitely (probably) write an alternative when the time comes and the show does the Battle. y'all know me by now, you know i love me a good ol' reader-insert and i didn't want to wait years to publish some kind of sequel so here we are.

warnings: reader isn't explicitly a Targaryen but we had to make this work and i'm burnt the fuck out. so fuck it, dragon rider reader. cursing, books spoilers, violence, imagination required, maybe Red Priestess reader, mention of more Little Birds (let author live), toxic family (duh), heavily encouraged imagination, depictions of death, angst, some hurt and comfort i think ? missing warnings 'cause wonky brain goin' wonky.

"There's rumor, Mistress, of a dragon the color of night," the hooded figure informed. "It nests in the Ruins of Ancient Valyria, seen by farmers and countryfolk; they say his wings beat like thunder. It's a colossal shadow they fear to engage, but after hearing your ransom, they reported it."

You hummed as you took a sip of scalding tea, finding comfort in the heat, musing, "I've been to the Ruins myself on two seperate excursions, I promise you, friend, there is no dragon that nests there."

"It's come from the East, a new beast in the sky."

"I require proof if I am to pay the ransom."

The man with a hood over his head reached for his rucksack and rummaged, a moment later, placing two items on the polished mahogany table between you both. One was unmistakably a dragon's tooth, and when you examined it, there was still clotted blood on the root - assuring it was a fresh pull. The second was a large black scale that weighed at least a dagger's worth.

You smirked, "This is promising. Where in the Ruins has it been seen? Who procured these artifacts?"

You discussed specifics with the man for an hour, offering him a hefty finder's fee after getting the name of the village the man had gathered his own information from. It was a messy journey from there; leaving the home you had made in the decades since the Stepstones to head for what was probably another dead end in Ancient Valyria. You were something akin to a magistrate, the people saw you as a figurehead, a leader; their person of authority who they were all too happy to follow.

Your village flourished, growing in size, number, popularity, and strength by the passing day. The people seemed happy, wealth flowing from exports and trade, and apparently, a few cartographers have begun the process of updating a few maps to add your village's name to history.

Much had changed in your time away from your Rogue Dragon Prince, but you knew that was all coming to an end soon. Your Lord of Light had shown you much in your flames, one of which was a repeating image of you, mounted atop a dragon all your own, soaring over the Narrow Sea with distinct purpose. You weren't a Targaryen, but your religious devotion seemingly gave you the ability to walk amongst beasts and their flames.

Exploring Ancient Valyria took over a year on foot.

You had plenty of encounters with the Stone Men, but all met their merciful demise - those left after that steered clear of you and your Valyrian Steel sword. Around the ruins of the ancient volcano that hadn't erupted since The Doom, you found a graveyard of goat, sheep, and cattle bones. There were bigger skeletons of aquatic creatures, something you found incredibly fascinating - what fully grown dragon went deep diving?

Soon, you found scat. For those who don't spend time in the wilderness or who are simply unfamiliar with the term, "scat" refers to waste produced by wild animals. Yeah, you're reading correctly, after you found the plethora of skeletons, you found dragon shit.

So, you knew you were closer than before. But the fucker still alluded you to the point you felt insane circling the Ruins.

You located about three different potential caverns, investigating them all with caution, but finding them all empty. Feeling exhausted from the months of searching, you claimed one of the caves as your own; hunting for a meal after gathering adequate fire wood. You listened to the untamed wilds of Valyria as you ate whatever you roasted, trying to distinguish familiar sounds of an approaching dragon.

Or perhaps even a distant one!

You'd take any sign!

It'd been weeks since you found the dragon droppings, no other signs appearing. You would search new areas for days, then return to your cave for rest; feeling disconnected from reality the longer you lingered in the ruined empire. You wondering what your village was doing, you were curious if the young woman, Ferona, had a baby boy or girl, if they had erected the new buildings you left blueprints for in an effort to create opportunist housing and houses of worship - as your people had requested.

How did the krill and shrimp season fair? What weddings happened this past spring? How was the irrigation system holding up?

Weeks drug by slowly. Weeks turned to longer months. Two years, you spent in that Gods forsaken ruin of a city - but couldn't find it in you to abandon your search.

Your Lord of Light had yet to send word, yet set your heart ablaze every time you "decided" to go home. You stared into the flames every night, desperate for any indication you were on the right path, but nothing was seen - nothing was said - nothing was shown to you. Until one night, during a torrential downpour and thunderous storm, you were shivering, drenched to your core, fighting the wind to let you keep your flames alive.

And there, in the dying, flickering warmth, you saw it. With wide, unblinking eyes, you stared into the flames harder; unsure how long you remained in the tranquil state before a particularly strong gust of wind nearly pushed you face-first into the embers. You gasped, looking around as the smoke nearly choked you as it filled the cave; stumbling out into the rain as you coughed and patted your chest. Stumbling slightly from malnourishment and delirium, you leaned on the outer shell of your "home", panting with relief before there came a screech so fearsome, you were then cowering into the wall with fear.

You dropped to your knees, huddled into the rock formation; the ground trembling as something enormous touched down. You gasped when through the haze of sideways rain, two nostrils flared and heaved thick plumes of smoke; reddened from the ignited flames deep within an invisible chest. You flattened against the wall, four taloned paws striking the ground and causing it to crack, quake, and tremble. With the fleeting clouds, you used the moon's light to distinguish the beast that loomed closer to you; over you; and then, in your face.

A long, blackened snout nearly pressed into your chest; fabric of your tunic caught in the razor sharp teeth. You had faced death, you had faced beasts, you had faced hacking axes and swinging swords. You had faced the wrath of the Queen Alysanne's court, the rumors of the common folk, and judgment from both man and God. But nothing was like this moment: a wild dragon staring you down, sniffing your chest and stomach, debating if it should just open it's mouth and eat you whole yet or not.

Thankfully, it chose an alternative route.

You're not fully sure how it happened, but you dedicated two years to finding this terrible beasty, and yet, it only took about 6 weeks to bond with the (obviously) young thing. Time with your Dragon Prince proved most useful, creating a bond so secure, you were beginning to wonder if someone deep in your bloodline had mated with a Targaryen. It was natural, the way you both became accustomed to one another; living together on a carbon-dated land long doomed.

The lessons from Daemon came flying back to you. You practiced your High Valyrian, laughing when you obviously got a word or two wrong because the dragon would snort at you. In the light, she was still the color of the night, but her scales were dusted the same gold as her eyes. She was impressive, she was huge in size but nowhere near Vhagar. In fact, you'd wager she had outgrew Caraxes - the only dragon you had true experience with.

Speaking of Caraxes, you were on the shores of Old Valyria, debating how you were going to convince your new companion to join you back "home" in the village, when suddenly, your beast gave a defensive growl.

Looking to the skyline, you spotted the distant dragon and frowned. This dragon wasn't the color of flames like Caraxes was, no, instead, it was a murky blob in the sky with two wings. You offered calming words to your dragon in her native language, not sensing danger, but your beast was unhappy leaving you in the open. Her tail curled around you to corral you back into her body as the muddy brown dragon landed with a thunderous shake a respectable distance away.

Your name was begged by the rider descending from who you recognized as a wild dragon by the name of Sheepstealer.

"Nettles? That you, love?" You asked in skepticism, managing out of your dragon's grasp. "What're you doing here? You all right?"

"I needed to find you," she panted. "I-I need you help - it's all - it's all gone wrong! Please!"

"What's wrong? The fuck's happened?"

"Do you know nothing, Auntie!? Do you know nothing of the war!?"

Your eyes rolled, "Watch that tone with me, girl. The Dance of Dragons is of no concern of mine, it had barely started when I came here."

"Well - it's your concern now," she insisted. "You took me under your wing - you helped raise me in a village you built from the ground, despite not ever needing to - "

"Your mother was a dear friend of mine," you cut her off sharply. "She was kind to me when I came back to Essos, let me stay with her and your father. When I set out on my own, she was always a friendly face, and when my settlement was established..."

"She came to you for help after getting pregnant with me," Nettles nodded. "You've told me this before."

"Then you should know better by now that I owed your mother more than my life, so, raising you was the least I could've done. A life for a life."

"And as such, you let me go into the world with stories filling my head of a handsome Dragon Prince that saved you from the Crabfeeder!" You scoffed at her words, ready to argue, but she rushed, "He's in trouble, Auntie."

You paused, finding no lie in the girl's eye. Slowly, you asked, "Come again?"

"I found him, Mistress," she nodded. "After I got back to Westeros, I found your Prince Daemon - the ones from the stories! He's... He's brutish and harsh, they call him Rogue, but he was kind to me when I told him I knew you. When he heard your name, Lady, he just - he insisted on keeping me close. He protected me, even against his wife - Princess Rhaenyra."

Your head cocked, "Hmm... He usually did have a taste for younger flesh. I'm not surprised he took to you - "

"No, no, no, Mistress, not like that," she insisted desperately. "He was kind, educational - similar to a mentor."

"I see."

"He needs your help."

"Prince Daemon does not need rescuing, he is no damsel."

"He searches for Prince Aemond," she informed, making you lift your chin slightly. Though lost in the wild of Valyria the past two years, you were still well versed in the affairs of King's Landing; staying updated, curtesy of your Lord, the Lord of Light: R'hllor. In your village, you were known to pay for any accurate information - eventually hiring your own spies to relay trustworthy information from around surrounding cities and villages. Nettles was one of your Little Birds.

You sighed, "And? What of it - Aemond killed Lucerys, did he not? Since he married his niece, her children are now his step-children, right? Daemon is within his rights to want some form of vengeance - it's war, Nettie, it's never fair to anybody.

"He will not survive this, you don't understand! It's horrible, Mistress, please, he-he-he's deranged. Mad with grief, lost to his wife's useless fucking war. It'll be the death of him, Auntie, please!" She paused, seeing you just stare back at her; so she begged again, "Please!"

You nodded, "What do you want me to do, Nettie? Hmm?"

"You've told me those stories! I remember them well! You always said he came back for you, saved you from The Crabfeeder," she reminded, making you stiffen. "Does he not deserve the same? Or at least a chance? Rhaenyra will not help, she'll kill him herself I fear, but you can - you can help!"

You nodded, "I will consult the flames - "

"I am telling you - "

"I have heard you, girl!" You snapped, glaring at your Little Bird. "But there are greater forces at work than what you know, I cannot just so willfully trust the word of a child before flying off across the Narrow Sea. Allow me my time with my Lord, I will have an answer for you." Turning from her, you gathered whatever materials you could; setting it up in a small teepee before stepping back.

In High Valyrian, you gave your command. From over your shoulder, your beasty opened her mouth and shot a single flame at the structure.

On your knees, you muttered repeatedly; chanting, summoning your Lord of Light to come to you now in a great hour of need. And He did. Through the flames, you saw what R'hllor wanted to show you: the two Princes engaged in a brutally epic fight that would claim them both in the end...

Unless you left right that moment, as your Lord commanded.

"Make yourself safe, Nettles, go back home," you told her in a rush, catching the pouch of Gold Dragons she tossed you when you sprung into action - and for the first time, mounted your dragon. Like your minds were connected, the Great Shadow took to the sky - leaving Nettles and Sheepstealer behind, and you'd never see either again.

You remained high in the sky, being a blob to the naked eye should any dare to stare at the sun.

You only paused to let the Great Shadow dive into the Narrow Sea for a meal; surfacing with creatures in her jaws as you swam an exhausting broad stroke. Was it terrifying to swim in the open water? Absolutely, but your dragon seemingly kept any threats at bay. When she was satisfied with her meal, the Great Shadow scooped you onto her back and relaunched into the air again to continue your flight for Westeros. You both dried in the air.

The trip was draining.

It was grueling on you both.

Yet when you saw the distant shore, you couldn't help the spike of relief in your heart and veins.

Once in Westeros, you were forced to ground yourselves in the open area of the Stormlands because you needed to know where to go since Nettles hadn't been sure where to send you specifically. Using the usual thunderstorm as cover, you had to separate from the Great Shadow; leaving her in the dark as you ventured to the closest village.

With the pouch of Gold Dragons Nettles gave you, you paid for information that you needed. You were told all the nitty gritty details about the Dance of the Dragons that you've missed, understanding what (Nettles and) the Lord of Light had been trying to tell you for years: the Black Queen would be Prince Daemon's death.

The time had come for you to return his favor from the Stepstones. If this worked the way you wanted it to, you wouldn't be his first, second, nor third wife, but his fourth and final. You knew what you had to do.

"What do you know of their whereabouts?" You asked the innkeeper who wiped down the bar you leaned on.

"The Princes?" She asked, tisking right after. "The One Eyed Prince has been burning the Riverlands for almost two weeks now. The Rogue Prince was in Maidenpool but he's called his nephew to meet him at, uh, oh... Oh, bullocks, what's that haunted castle? The one that was torched?"

"Harrenhal?"

She snapped her fingers at you, "That's the one!"

"Fuckin' Hell," you muttered, wiping your eyes. "What's your thinking, love? 'Bout this war?"

She scoffed, rolling her eyes, "Stupidest thing I've endured so far. How silly, the House of the Dragon does not know who rules it, or so says our liege lord. So we must all pay their price in Fire and Blood."

You nodded slowly, "Who do you think holds the better claim t'the Throne?"

"Depends on your views," she muttered, "but in truth, it doesn't matter to me - so long as this all comes to an end. But between us?" She leaned in, glancing around before muttering, "The Bitch Queen would burn us all. Can't say if King Aegon would be much better, but at least we'd know what we were dealing with."

"And if he was another Maegor?"

"Can't be worse than the Black Queen. Hear they call her Maegor with Tits."

You smirked, chuckling lightly, "Thank you, ma'am, for your words." You offered her a few Gold Dragons, repeating, "Harrenhal?"

"Harrenhal," she nodded, accepting the payment. "I do not know if the One Eyed Prince will answer the Rogue Prince's challenge, but that is where he lures Prince Aemond - Harrenhal. Now, how's about a nice bowl of stew? You look drenched, love, and a bit skinny - you been eatin'?"

"Your kindness is refreshing in this shit-for-a-kingdom."

You winked at her and tapped the bar in parting before turning for the door, and into the rain you ventured once more. You didn't notice the cold, your Lord kept you warm and moving; finding the Great Shadow, mounting, and shooting off into the unknown sky again.

It wasn't easy directing a dragon without a saddle nor any stabilizing reins, yet your beast was something of a decently smooth fly. You minimally directed her as you went, but in truth, her instincts directed you both more than anything. When the storm broke, you were soon flying over charred scores of land; homes smoldering and burning, the wind spreading the embers and never letting the fire fully die out.

"The fuck..." You muttered, sitting up straight as you flew through the carnage. "Seven Hells, he burnt it all, didn't he?" You whispered, needing to hold onto the spinal ridges of your dragon to keep balanced. "Gods be good," you gaped at the damage beneath you.

The sun moved into position, getting ready to set when you heard the horrible screams of feuding dragons. You couldn't see Harrenhal yet, but you heard the fight, and then, as the sun began to set, there came flashes of bright firelight that lit the sky to a new level.

It was nearly the shade of daylight with the way the flames danced against the setting sun. You were desperate to get closer, and after directing the Great Shadow over a set of charred rolling hills, you finally had Harrenhal in sight. "Go! Go, please! That's them - we need t'get there!" You begged through a small sob of panic, and if possible, your dragon flew all the faster.

You were so close, yet felt so far.

The air trembled when the pair of dragons, Vhagar and Caraxes, collided in the sky once more. They grappled and snarled and shrieked and blew flames and gnashed their teeth and slashed their talons. You paid no mind to the pregnant woman standing on the shoreline of the lake they fought over, and instead, focused on your task; feeling as if you were moving on pure instinct and adrenaline.

The Great Shadow dove low to the lake's surface as Caraxes and Vhagar came barreling to the ground. It all happened too fast. As the two dragons fell, you saw one man - in black armor - leap from his crimson beast with his Valyrian sword winking in the dying light. Just as his arm extended to pierce Dark Sister into Aemond's blind eye, the dragons were tussling enough to turn over and forced Daemon off their hide.

You gasped as you reacted - no fucking thought to your actions.

As the Great Shadow glided over the surface of the Gods Eye lake, you were leaping off her back to launch into the air; tackling the Rogue Prince hard enough to disrupt his impact on the water's surface. You hit the water all the same, but instead of it being like hitting fresh pavement, it was a softer landing due to the Great Shadow's expert and quick maneuvering.

Two dragons hit the water, three human bodies; sending a wave of water higher than the towers of Harrenhal's fortress. It was a shock to land in something so wet and cold, but your adrenaline was stronger than any feeling of freezing water. Your arms kept an iron-clad lock around Daemon's unconscious waist, surfacing as the lake rippled and churned from impact; turning a seeping red from the open wounds on the dragon sinking into the depths.

Prince Aemond never surfaced, and years from now, he'd be found still chained to Vhagar's saddle with Dark Sister still stabbed through his skull. His Red Witch standing on shore couldn't save him, it appearing that your Lord preferred the Rogue Prince to the One Eyed.

Keeping Daemon afloat was difficult, but to your shock, you were being gently propelled forward to the shore by a fatally injured Caraxes. You encouraged him best you could, trying not to choke on the water splashing around your frantic forms. When you were able, you started heaving and dragging Daemon up the lake's embankment; the crimson dragon crawling out of the lake behind you, slowly, heading towards Harrenhal. You wanted to offer the loyal beast aid or comfort, but you were much too preoccupied with his master that was dead weight in the water's surf.

You trembled as you swiftly hoisted his dragon winged helmet off to leave bobbing in the surf; unhooked his armor, shucking it off him and compressing his chest rapidly - just like a fisherman taught you to do.

"C'mon," you grunted. "C'mon, Daemon, breathe - fucking breathe, damnit! Please, come back to me - don't do this. I just found you again, c'mon, my Prince, breathe. Breathe, Daemon, don't give up - not now, not on us! Don't give up on us, c'mon, my Prince, breathe, w-we finally have our time." Sobs wracked your form. "Breathe, Daemon, please! Please! I'm back - I finally found you, please, my love, breathe!"

You shoved harder into his breast bone with increased ferocity until water came suddenly spewing from his lungs. You heard the Great Shadow land in the near distance, turning Daemon on his side to help him breathe better; choking the water out. You spoke in relief, "There, there you go, c'mon, love, breathe! Thank fucking Gods, you're all right, you're okay, get it out - you're okay, just breathe, my love."

Daemon choked your name in pure disbelief, holding one of your wrists in a vice grip that only briefly concerned you. He panted and relaxed into the embankment, loosening his grip as he turned over to look up at you in shock and wonder. "How is this possible?" He wheezed.

"It's a bit of a long story," you teased softly, caressing his cheek. "Bit of a boring tale, 'M afraid."

"How? How is - how can this be?"

"You needed me," you explained, "thought I'd return the favor since you saved me all those years ago, huh? You got me out of the sea, I got you out of the lake - we're even, yeah?"

He still panted, only staring at you as if he couldn't believe himself. "You've not aged a day," he whispered.

You smiled, petting his cheekbone with your thumb daintly. "You need rest, reprieve, aid," you whispered.

"No, no," he gulped, "not when I just got you back. T-Tell me 's done. Tell me we're done being apart."

"You have a wife still, Daemon. She won't let you go, she wouldn't let us be together."

"Tell me what your flames say."

"Now you trust my flames?"

"When they bring you back to me, yes - oh, fuck yes, I'll believe whatever those fucking flames say. Please, love, for us - consult your flames, tell me what they've said."

You frowned, petting a soaking wet lock of hair from his forehead. Quietly, you whispered, "My Lord showed me what was to pass if I did not come for you... This war, this Dance of Dragons, would claim your life, Daemon. Your wife, your niece... She'll be the end of you, my Prince. You will not survive if you go back to her. Neither of you will survive this... My Lord has shown me that Rhaenyra will meet her end in flames, but following her will cost you your life in water," you glanced at the lake. "Not a death befitting of a Targaryen Prince."

"And now?"

"Now, she will fight her own battles for the first time," you whispered, "and I will return home, and you will make a choice."

He smirked, "We've gone lifetimes apart, like you said before."

"We have."

"I would not go another day," he coughed, wincing in pain. "I do not think I can fight anymore anyways, love. Please... Please."

Daemon never begged. You swallowed harshly, asking him, "No? No more fighting?"

"No," he agreed. "'M so tired, my sweet. I-I can't do this forever," he half-slurred, making you perk up slightly in attention. "Retirement sounds all too appealing now. Rumor will spread that neither Aemond or I lived, it'll be the perfect escape."

You nodded in agreement, flinching when a new voice screeched, "YOU BITCH!"

The pregnant woman you saw on shore stormed towards you, making you chuckle dryly as you had already foreseen this Alys Rivers - pregnant concubine of the One Eyed Prince Aemond and fellow Follower of R'hllor. Alys was unique in the sense that her training was decent enough to ensnare Aemond (it seemed), but not so decent that the Lord yet favored her.

She wasn't more than ten feet from you when the Great Shadow opened her mouth and showered the Red Witch in holy flames; an end she surely did not see coming - not that R'hllor would've showed her. This all caught Daemon's attention, who flinched slightly when he had to turn and look; not expecting the flames nor the beast.

Then his eyes drifted over the land, breathing hitching, and he sat up with a painful groan. "Daemon," you worried, but instead of trying to get him down, you helped him up.

You knew what he saw.

When at Caraxes' side, you helped Daemon lower to his knees at his dragon's head. He whimpered and moaned, belly slashed open, wing torn apart; bleeding out into the cold soil he rested on. The Great Shadow moaned gently in sympathy, lowering herself around you three to let you grieve in peaceful, protective privacy and ease Caraxes to his next life.

The moon was fully in the sky when the crimson bloodwyrm took his final breath with the ebony giant's flames to warm you all. You weren't sure what could be done, but Daemon was pressing a tender kiss to his dragon's head before turning to face you - a lost, confused, vulnerable look coating his features. "Come on, love," you eased gently, helping him to his feet; knowing a few ribs were shattered and probably his clavicle, too.

"Where will we go now?"

"Well, I have somewhere safe for us t'live," you grunted in assurance, wobbling a little under his weight. "But we need rest for tonight. Any ideas?"

"I doubt anyone will venture to Harrenhal this night, should be safe..."

You agreed, and together, you and Daemon settled in the empty castle with the Great Shadow resting on the outskirts of the Keep. She was too big for the interior of the courtyard, so, she was left outside with Caraxes' corpse as you and Daemon settled in the room he had commandeered.

"How is this possible? How can you be here?" He asked, holding your hips as you worked between his spread legs. Daemon had minimal supplies at the ready; hopping up on a work bench to let you care for his injuries and wounds. He watched your every move with a softening look. "I thought I wouldn't ever see you again, that I'd be cursed to only remember you in my dreams. Rhaenyra said I say your name a lot at night, when I sleep."

"I'm really here, Daemon, ease yourself," you offered an assuring grin, tending to the head wounds he obtained from the fight.

"How?"

"Nettles."

"What?"

"Nettles," you repeated with a smirk. "She's one of my Little Birds, Daemon. It was not entirely coincidence she found you..."

"So she said," he frowned. "But how - "

"She told me you needed me," you smiled softly. "And when I consulted the flames, I was shown what could be. I made a decision, I just wanted you safe, no matter what that meant."

"I just want you. Fuck," he seethed, squeezing your hips, "'s been fucking decades since I've even touched you."

"You're delirious," you teased. "Sleep deprived, maybe concussed."

"Perhaps all at once, but I finally have all I've dreamt of. Please," he whispered, "do not deny us longer. I've endured lifetimes - "

"Daemon, being here and now, you know I can't walk away. But we've time t'talk it all out, I need you to let me help your wounds - so sit still."

He nodded, "One thing I do not understand, though - the dragon? How did you...?"

"Spent two years in Valyria, looking for her."

"Why were you there?"

"Searching for a dragon, of course," you smirked. "She's impressive, isn't she? And from her size, I wager she can easily support us both back across the Narrow Sea."

He grit his teeth when you cleaned his open cuts and wounds, wrapping whatever clean cloth you had around the larger wounds; easing him out of his tunic to have better access to the blackened ribs he sported. "Would you tell me?" Daemon whispered some time later.

"Of what?"

"Your life since the Stepstones?"

"Oh," you chuckled, "sweet love, you know it was dreadfully boring without you."

"Doesn't seem it, you being in Valyria two years? That's not heard of, what was it like? How'd you survive? Why go looking for a dragon?"

This lead to you both laying in bed, hands held together, resting, but not sleeping. You just spoke quietly, fingertips tracing idly over each other's faces; sharing in each others lives that the other missed, reminiscing together in fond memories.

When morning broke, you had to move swiftly. Caraxes was left where he laid and after a final parting to the loyal beast and commandeering his saddle, together, you and Daemon mounted the Great Shadow. She wasn't a fan of the restraints, but once you and Daemon were mounted, she did not fuss as it was evident you humans had an easier time with the leather contraption.

"I must confess," Daemon whispered in your ear, using you as an anchor and leaning into your back, "I fear I might feel something akin to guilt for fleeing home."

"That's natural," you assured, "you're leaving family behind, 's never easy."

"There was no winning this war," he admitted, sighing. "I lead so many to their death... Destroyed my family - "

"From what I have heard, this is not your doing," you argued sharply. "That night, when Aemond attacked Lucerys, what were you to do? Leave that kind of atrocity without consequence? No, that is not in the Targaryen's nature. You did not start this war, Daemon."

"But I knew..."

"You knew what?"

"I knew Jace, Luke, and Joffrey were Harwin Strong's, not Laenor Velaryon's. We thought if we married her sons to my daughters, nobody would care much else about lineage - but we were wrong."

"It's okay to be wrong," you promised, leaning your head back to let your forehead rest against his temple. "It's okay to make mistakes or have regret. Tell me, do you wish to return to your wife? I will take you now, no quest - "

"No. No, I do not wish to leave you. This is... This is Rhaenyra's war, I've done my part. I'm free and finally with whom I belong."

"Now it's time to heal," you told him.

"Time to rest," he agreed, squeezing your waist and placing a few kisses to your neck. "This is where I should've been all this time... After the Stepstones, I should've stayed with you, none of this would've come to pass. I regret leaving you everyday - "

"I told you, for us to get here, to this point, now, we had to separate. But look where we are," you smiled back at him, the Great Shadow soaring higher in the sky to keep Westeros at a distance, "we will not be apart again. 'S you and me, love... Until our end, which we will greet together."

Daemon's lips found yours at long last, whispering, "Together," against them before sweeping his tongue against yours.

The port was lovely this time of day, sun high in the sky to give light to the fishermen and vendors hard at work. Sailors made port, calms were being shucked, different Aristocats trying to barter and trade on their journeys abroad. You smiled at the people you passed, grateful to be home after a prolonged absence; arm looped tight with Daemon's as you both strolled the pier.

"It's hard to imagine you've done all this in a lifetime or less," he mused, a hand folded over yours, dressed in the best clothes you could find. "It's s marvel, my sweet," his compliment was sincere.

"Thank you," you whispered, hugging his arm as your skirts swished around your ankles, just tickling your bare feet. "This season's expected to be bountiful," you told him, pointing to the various teams bringing crustaceans, fish, and other sea life in different crates and traps. "I expect there won't be much of an off-season."

He glanced around, "And you don't collect taxes?"

"Why would I?" You scoffed. "We're more dynamic than that. Everyone works for their place, if you wanted to think of it that way. They are not expected to contribute, but the village seems happier that way. Being close knit, helping one another, sharing wealth. No one person has complained, so, I figure it's working so far. Even if it didn't work, I still wouldn't charge them taxes - it'd be like charging them to live. Always seemed silly t'me."

"Morning, Mistress!"

"Morning, Don," you beamed, leading Daemon towards the dock. "How are you, kind sir? Looks as if you've been working all day already."

"Aye, up before the sun," he nodded, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. "Wanted t'thank yah, actually."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, yeah, with that dragon? We're hauling in more ships," he chuckled, and just overhead, the Great Shadow glided over them all to head out to sea to fetch another round of ships. "Gets us out there quick, brings us back when done, 's like a wee bit of an assembly line, ain't it?"

You chuckled, "Sounds like it, friend. Uh, Don, have I introduced you to my husband?"

"Husband?" Don grinned, cocking his head, "No, Mistress, I wasn't aware you even had a suitor. Mariam don't tell me much gossip these days," he snickered, referring to his wife. "It's nice t'meet you," he told Daemon, "name's Don, just Don - no, it ain't short for nothin'."

Daemon smirked some, shaking the man's fishy hand boldly, "A pleasure, Don, Just Don."

"Oh, this one's got a bit uh humor, don't he?" Don laughed lightly. "What's your name, lad?"

"Daemon?" A voice answered for you all, and just above you, a little further on the pier, stood an aged Laenor Velaryon.

"Excuse us, Don," you spoke swiftly, confusion marring your features. He understood or sensed the slight tension, backing off to let you approach the "dead" knight.

"Oh, my - Y/N," Laenor breathed, another aged man at his side with what you assume to be his children. No question could be asked yet as your old friend launched himself into your arms, laughing merrily, giving you a tight squeeze with his still-toned arms. "Oh, the Gods are good for this!" He laughed, rocking you slightly, "Oh, how the Seven bless us."

"You're so dramatic," you laughed back, patting him happily until he pulled back. "But I must confess, I am so fucking confused - what is this? How are you here? I thought you died, Laenor, that's what ever spy reported."

"They should've," he nodded, glancing at Daemon, "but perhaps, the explanation will be better received after some wine?" He caressed your cheek in affection before looking at your husband, nodding, "It's good to see you again, my Prince. Or is it King Consort?"

"Neither, just Daemon," he corrected, your heart soaring a little at the idea that he would abandon his title so easily. Yet you knew, there was nothing to go back to for him.

"Well, how about I introduce my family?"

"Family?" You grinned, seeing him present the others.

"My husband," he gestured, giving his name. "And our kids," he introduced the other three.

"How?" You asked simply.

"We found a Red Priest who was willing to officiate the ceremony," Laenor explained, "and the kids were sired by different mothers, too."

"Whores," the husband smiled.

"Huh," you nodded in impression. "Well, perhaps wine is best to hear that tale, as well?"

"Perhaps," Laenor grinned. "Uh, but first, we should find accommodations - "

"Oh, come off it, you're staying with us," you waved. "Your belongings?"

"This is it," he half-shrugged, you eyeing the few rucksacks around their feet, neck, shoulders... "We heard of the prosperity here, thought it was worth the move."

"How right you are," Daemon answered. "Come, old friend." He picked up a few sacks for the kids and you looped your arm with Laenor's to lead the way. How good it was to have your friend back, your husband at your side, and a functioning, happy village with your placement amongst them most important... Everything you could've wished for, it seemed, came true.

And in your womb, a Dragon Seed was planted; soon to make its announcement known. Truly, a happier ending than you thought deserved - but R'hollr worked mysteriously, blessing those deemed worthy to spread his flames.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

note: i'm not the happiest with this piece, so i'll most definitely (probably) write an alternative when the time comes and the show does the Battle. y'all know me by now, you know i love me a good ol' reader-insert and i didn't want to wait years to publish some kind of sequel so here we are.

[bonefall]

Did Brambleclaw actually disown the Three when the secret is revealed? I don't remember this happening (then again, it's been a while) but it does bug me how all three go "Poor brambleclaw :(( He was such a good dad to us and he has to learn we're not even his biokits :(((( poor guy" while simultaneously shitting on Leafpool and Squirrelflight despite them showing them more care and affection before AND after the reveal. If he does disown them, then.... WOW is the double standard real here.

In-canon? It's something you have to approximate. They don't seem to have a concept of ""disowning"" because blood relation is taken as such an insurmountable, FUNDAMENTAL fact of life. He doesn't write them out of his little kitty will and testament, but his actions ARE disowning.

It's as if the fact he is not their biological father is an automatic disowning. From the reveal onwards, he is immediately cold, distant, and the "betrayal" is mentioned often. The Three also explicitly don't blame him for his behavior, like it's just to be expected that he's Not Their Dad anymore.

Lionblaze in particular stares longingly at him several times, really missing him. And like... that's kinda what gets my goat so much

I do believe Brambleclaw is entitled to his feelings of betrayal. I believe Squilf was ultimately in the right to lie, actually, but he's still allowed to be upset and angry that she didn't trust him enough to tell him something so important. THAT SAID, YOU ARE NEVER ENTITLED TO TREAT OTHERS POORLY.

And that's what GETS me. He isn't upset that it was all revealed in such a painful and embarassing way when this could have been avoided, or that his lover struggled with this lie for so long without him, or that he feels he's lost his children. Squilf points it out in The Last Hope-- He's so ANGRY at Squilf that he will THROW HIS FAMILY AWAY

Lionblaze seems desperate to be his son again. Hollyleaf is gone for months, and Brambleclaw is still huffing about the secret when she comes back from the dead. Squilf is fawning in the hopes it makes him talk to her again. Doesn't matter. Brambleclaw Is Upsetti Spaghetti so the narrative will never examine his role in hurting this family he apparently loved so much.

(Narrative seems to understand full well that when Squilf lies for a good reason, that doesn't invalidate the hurt Brambleclaw felt... but when Brambleclaw is upset for a good reason, it actually DOES validate what he put her and his kids through)

In BB it is explicitly a disowning. He cuts them off as his children, and they reciprocate. BB!Lionblaze does so in a ball of fury, vowing that he has ONLY a mother.

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Undertale characters see S/O break a bone and then S/O basically just does a Far Cry healing animation and doesn’t even care they got hurt.

Undertale Sans - He grabs your arm gently but firmly, with dark eye sockets. "b u d d y ? N e v e r d o t h a t a g a i n." He hated every second of it. What's wrong with you? Go to the hospital like a normal person, you're going to hurt yourself more.

Undertale Papyrus - He faints. First, the shock of seeing your leg on the wrong side triggered him, but you simply putting it back in place like it's nothing? That's too much man. He can take a lot of things, but this is a big no.

Undertale Toriel - .... She was about to heal you, that for sure stopped her dead in her tracks. She's speechless. And immediately turns into Goat Mom mode and starts lecturing you about how dangerous this is and how it could have hurt you even more. Now you sit down this instant and you let her heal you properly.

Undertale Asgore - He lived hundreds of years and still discovers new things. Though, that one is maybe a bit too much. The noise of the bone snapping back into place made him so uncomfortable he suddenly panics his way out of the house, pretending he needed to get groceries or something.

Undertale Undyne - She stares in awe for a few seconds. Then she explodes. "This was AWESOME. Do it AGAIN!!!" She's very excited about this. She's even ready to break your arm if you need it! Come on!

Undertale Alphys - The scientist in her leaves her body. Why even try? You clearly have no idea how to fix a bone. It's so dangerous and you just act like everything is alright now??? How??? You should be screaming in agony???

Undertale Frisk - Well they can do cool things too. Frisk immediately struggles to lick their elbow with all they have.

Undertale Chara - They roll their eyes at you. You think you're in a video game or something? They're not taking you to the hospital when you realize you're dying because of how painful this is. You did that to yourself.

Undertale Mettaton - He gasps, then runs to you with a camera. Can he break one of your bones so you can do it again and put it in his next movie? Please, please, please, pretty please....

Undertale Gaster - He hisses at you, all his goop puffing like an angry cat. This is the worst sound he has ever heard, please never do that again or he's going to blip into another dimension again!

Undertale Grillby - He stays neutral, but his fire body suddenly burns for real, which means you triggered him. And now the bar is on fire, and Sans is on fire, and all the customers are running in circles screaming for their lives. What have you done?

Undertale Muffet - No big deal, it happens all the time with her eight arms too. She doesn't even notice when one is broken with time, as she has seven other functioning ones. You're not special, who cares.

Undertale Burgerpants - Oh look at that. He's dating another weird person. Welp, that's official. He has a type apparently. He wishes he didn't have one. Why can't he date normal people who do things like normal people should?

Undertale Flowey - Did you just pull out the friendliness pellet he threw inside your arm with your teeth? "You can't do that! That's illegal! I just broke that bone, you can't fix it like it's nothing! Cheater!" He's so mad! Stop breaking his fun. He wants to kill you!

Undertale Gerson - He wiggles his eyebrows at you. You know his back is hurting as well, right? You know. A little trick like that could help like hell. Come on. Don't be shy.

[vicsy]

Daniel Ricciardo and tennis – a masterpost (of sorts).

To start things off, here is a video of Daniel playing tennis that I think about way too often, especially lately, with the recent paddle mania that took over the paddock.

A few things I could note here, apart from the fact that Daniel himself said that if it wasn't racing, he'd go pro in tennis:

old school-ish (european) one handed backhand which is actually rather solid! Daniel said many times that he is a big fan of Federer (a true goat) and Daniel's technique here is pretty much imitating Roger's smooth and satisfying backhand strokes.

it is just a couple of hits but ball placement court wise in not bad - all past the half court mark, down the line, then cross court and close to the baseline.

his movement on the court itself comes off a bit wonky in comparison to regular players but I do like how he attacks the short ball (even if he swings a bit too wide but it still works).

Some assortment of interesting facts:

Apart from his love for Roger Federer, Daniel was a big Andre Agassi fan.

In 2021 Daniel and Lando stayed up to watch British teenage tennis player Emma Raducanu (who is an avid F1 fan and her fave driver is Daniel) win the US Open, her maiden grand slam tournament. This was right before the win in Monza and McLaren 1-2.

In 2020, Daniel took inspiration for his "Equality" face mask from the four time grand slam winner Naomi Osaka and called her a "strong voice" (which she rightfully was). Lewis Hamilton also considered Naomi a great inspiration in raising awareness of several social issues.

When Daniel was a kid, he would smash his racquet if he lost (that's so real of him and i do that too):

Ricciardo is widely regarded as motorsport’s nice guy. But when does the mongrel come out? "I’m a born competitor. As a kid I was a sore loser. If it was a tennis match, I’d smash a racquet or something," he said, laughing. (source)

Once Daniel was playing with his cousin and apparent he got a little outplayed, so in retaliation Daniel hit his cousin point blank with a tennis ball (which hurts A LOT). His cousin cried and then Daniel's dad gave him "a clip across the ear". Daniel also talks about it in one of the Grill the Grid videos. (big thanks to @go-daniel for finding the article and the video to back this story up!)

Daniel is childhood friends with Marcus Stoinis (an Aussie cricketer) and they grew up together playing tennis, driving to Dunsborough south of Perth and they would play tennis together for the whole day, practically hogging the court. (via this post)

Now, to the photos!

Carlos and Daniel playing a tennis match in 2013. Daniel won 6-3 2-6 7-6. It's from Daniel's old twitter post.

Daniel and Jannik Sinner in Piatti Tennis Center in 2020. Jannik is an Italian darling and current world number 3 on the steady rise to the top (i love my carrot boy so much).

Daniel on court.

Daniel attending semifinals of Wimbledon 2021.

Daniel with Juan Martín del Potro during Miami 2023 Grand Prix. Del Potro, now retired, was a prominent tennis player from Argentina, a "gentle giant" and he is also a fan of Fernando Alonso.

Daniel with Matteo Berrettini (and Francesco Carrozzini in the middle), Italian tennis player, current world number 142, during Met Gala 2023 (the way i yelled when this photo dropped omg).

It is all I have managed to gather for now but I will update if I stumble upon something new.

[twistedwonderlandsimps]

Addams!Yuu

I'm just here to mix-and-match different kinds of Yuus with different kinds of personalities to see what monstrosity I can make. That being said,,, Addams!Yuu brainrot!

Don’t be surprised. There’s always gonna be that obligatory Addams Family fusion AU in every fandom and if there’s not then that’s clearly already a sign for you, my dear reader, to start writing one.

Anyway, Addams!Yuu, who doesn’t know about the Addams Family? If you don’t then that must mean I’m ancient (which is fair) and that you should start with the Addams Family 1991 movie.

Addams!Yuu who has the standard issue dark sense of humor, fascination for the weird and macabre, the love for the dark colors that all Addams seem to have and values family a lot. 

After Grim opens the coffin, sees Addams!Yuu in all their gothic glory, and then proceeding to threaten them, Addams!Yuu really just said: 

“Oh, what bliss! To have slept like the dead, woke up suffocating, and greeted by such sweet words in such a finely made coffin. Is this what it’s like to be courted? What am I getting courted by? A depraved stalker? A monstrous beast? *gasp* Perhaps… a demented serial killer?” [cue Yuu swooning, dramatically holding a hand over their forehead and lightly fanning themselves with their other hand]

Anyway, they don’t ignore Grim for long. Not when Grim keeps threatening them and spewing out fire.

Addams!Yuu immediately became delighted with Grim because, duh, a monster??? Who breathes fire??? With a massive ego??? Threatening to burn them alive???

That’s like the equivalent of someone complimenting them… Maybe even borderline flirting with them.

Still Grim and Addams!Yuu click with each other straight away. Addams!Yuu doesn’t hold back when complimenting Grim, even if the way they compliment someone is weird, and Grim gets a huge ego boost. 

These two are an iconic duo who just keep hyping and enabling each other.

“Great Grim, for such a terrifying creature such as yourself…surely you must have committed the most deplorable acts. Oh, you must tell me! How many buildings have you burned down? Were there people inside? How many survived? Oh, if only papà and mamà would let me do the same… They said I have to focus on school first and start small before I can put myself on the government watchlist. *sigh*”

Grim has no idea what Yuu’s saying but he does understand when he’s being complimented, his ego’s inflating and that’s all that really matters, honestly.

Anyway, since the two didn’t do a chase scene with Grim attempting to hurt Yuu (though Addams!Yuu would definitely appreciate this) since the two of them vibed immediately, it didn’t take long for Crowley to find them.

After being led to the Mirror Chambers, Yuu had to physically stop themselves from jumping in joy because:

“A cult! How chilling! I didn’t expect to be kidnapped by a cult! It’s been so long!”

And, “The last cult I joined didn’t seem to appreciate it when I sacrificed a goat on the altar. Apparently they weren’t actually a cult. The police were called and they ended up putting me in an asylum. T’was a lovely vacation.”

Crowley tried to tell Yuu that they weren’t a cult and that they were a well-known and respected establishment but Yuu ignored him (Ha! Get a taste of your own medicine, crowman!) in favor of admiring the surrounding aesthetics. 

NRC is the perfect aesthetic for Addams!Yuu. In fact, the Addams Family would definitely love it.

But you know what they’d love more? Ramshackle Dorm as it is.

Forget renovating it and fixing it up to make it livable to the common person, Yuu’s an Addams! Yuu’s just going to make Ramshackle even more dangerous than it already is with its lack of maintenance. 

Think spikes all around the property, deadly traps around every corner of the hallways, and maybe even a few sentient trees and carnivore plants here and there.

Where did Yuu even get those sentient floras? Shhhhh… They’re an Addams, don’t question it.

This version of Yuu… probably genuinely respects Crowley wholeheartedly. [The myuultiverse is quaking. A Yuu who actually considers Crowley a good guardian?]

Yuu at Crowley, somewhere in the future: “You are the most idle person anyone can ever hope to meet. A coward. Wastrel. Careless. Greedy and money-hungry… How admirable.”

Crowley’s constantly getting backhanded compliments and he can’t do anything about it because Yuu is an Addams and Addamses have a weird way of thinking.

As far as Addams!Yuu can tell, they’re completely normal and everyone else around them are weirdos but they’re too nice to say anything about it.

Now imagine putting Addams!Yuu and Kalim in the same room.

JK, the two may have different personalities but they’d probably be good friends… after some rocky situations here and there caused by some misunderstandings.

Yuu might think that Kalim’s being mean to them at first because the Scarabia Dorm Leader called them ‘nice and kind’ which, in Addams vocabulary, isn’t considered a compliment.

When Kalim learnt of this odd Addams culture, he tried to make an effort to speak words with negative connotations but he felt it was too mean so he just goes, “Yuu! You look nice! But… uh, in a dead way! And you’re fun and kind, but the opposite of that! Ahahaha!”

Kalim found a loophole and he’s going to take advantage of it. Yuu gets what he’s saying anyway so it all works out.

Anyway, overblots…

Yeah, you really think Yuu’s going to run away from it? Expect them to be watching from the sidelines (hecc, they might even actively head towards the overblot) and becoming Rook 2.0 with the way they compliment the overblotee.

Them just going:

“Ah, those strong emotions that you’ve withheld inside of you suddenly going off like an atomic bomb upon a dreary night sky. That rage in your expression, that despair in your eyes… You’ve forgotten your humanity and transformed yourself into a beast. How tragic, how beautiful. Tell me, how long have you been torturing yourself?”

Sevens forbid they actually meet Rook. Rook sees beauty in everything and he’s sharp so getting into Addams!Yuu’s grace alone by just words is as simple as taking candy from a baby.

I would type a dialogue with Rook and Addams!Yuu but I honestly don’t understand how Rook talks so just imagine it. Just Yuu and Rook continuously firing off compliments to each other until either one of them gets flustered to silence or the others pull the two away from each other.

Just imagine Rook sending a letter to Yuu via an arrow grazing their head and Yuu just swoons.

Out of everyone in NRC, I could see Rook being one of the three people who can immediately reel Yuu in with just their charms alone.

Anyway, Rook would probably fit in with the Addams. 

Yuu could literally just introduce him to their family and they’d assume he was a very distant cousin with how he is.

Yuu asks Vil for poison now and again (no one’s brave enough to ask what they’re doing with it) and likes the way he’s obsessed with being the most beautiful person.

“Your ambition to become the most beautiful person to the point of insanity is admirable, Vil Schoenheit. How long can your sanity hold on, I wonder?”

Imagine Yuu seeing Neige LeBlanche and getting mental damage from how bright and cheerful he is.

Yuu being like ‘aight, bet’ when witnessing Vil overblot and then planning on poisoning Neige.

Aside from Pomefiore, Yuu also spends most of their time on Diasomnia.

Diasomnia is literally the second peak Addams aesthetic out of all the dormitories. First being Ramshackle, obviously.

I feel Malleus and Yuu would get along quite well. They’re both elegant and have that certain vibe to them.

Malleus could just talk about gargoyle structure and lore and Yuu would probably listen to him all the way and similarly, Yuu could talk about the witch hunts their ancestor used to have and Malleus would listen just as intently.

You know what… Lilia’s food is probably a delicacy to them. 

That thing is a weapon of mass destruction and I refuse to believe that Addams!Yuu wouldn’t like it if a mere food can take down hundreds, if not thousands, of people when ingested.

Addams!Yuu also likes Silver because he ‘sleeps like the dead’. Though, his little critter friends should probably be wary about going near Yuu.

Oddly enough, I think Addams!Yuu would also like Sebek’s boisterous personality solely because of his passion and if it’s one thing I know about Addams, it’s that they’re passionate.

Sure, it may be passion about spreading Malleus’ name and glory all over the world like a missionary with a mission (duh), but it’s passion nevertheless.

Diasomnia aside, no one in Heartsalbyul asks for Yuu to help them with maintaining the plants because last time someone did, Yuu ended up cutting a good chunk of the roses off of the stems before they were stopped by both Ace and Deuce.

Of course Riddle got angry but after a few talks here and there and some communication (that’s character development) from both parties, Yuu realize that cutting the roses off of the bushes was a no-no and instead settles for painting the roses red when needed because it reminds them of the color of blood.

All in all Addams!Yuu would definitely fit right in with Night Raven College. 

It has the aesthetics and no one there is overly cheerful or colorful so it’s the perfect place for an Addams to reside at.

The overblots are just everyday routine for Yuu and they wouldn’t have it any other way.

[aphblr-headcanons]

I am a little scared to post my Laurance analysis. I am too scared it goes against a lot of characterizations of Laurance that I commonly see. So I decided to talk about it here.

An overlooked trait of Laurance is how he refuses to let things that he sees as injustices slide.

He and Garroth constantly butt heads at first in MCD, not only about Aphmau. But things about Garroth too. Laurance often over-analyses Garroth. And calls him out on holding information back and so forth. And on what happened with Zenix. Meanwhile, Garroth spouts meaningless insults when Laurance confronts him about these things. Garroth is clearly not good at being confronted on the spot like that. 

And I’d like to talk about what I’d consider Laurance’s best scenes.

The one where he defends Isabell against her abuser, and the one where he defends Lucinda against her toxic ex Ivan. Laurance is very admirable in these scenes, unafraid to step in. For how often abuse is excused within MCD and Mystreet, Laurance calls it out twice. Which is, as I said, incredibly admirable.

Like someone mentioned before; when we see Laurance letting things slide, the narrative often ignores it too. Laurance is never the only person to let things slide. He doesn’t get as upset with Garroth after the betrayal as he should’ve been, but no one is. Everyone lets it slide. After Aphmau didn’t search for him, the narrative claims she did try her best. It was written that way for convenience, rather than a purposeful flaw. Even then Laurance is framed as less forgiving because he did blame Garroth for Aaron’s death when he let his anger slide. But that was overall a pretty bad scene nonetheless.

I would have preferred if Laurance took more time forgiving Garroth for this, and called him out on his behaviors. The betrayal hurt many people, and someone needs to hold Garroth accountable. Judging from Laurance’s other actions, it would make sense if it was him. 

One of Laurance’s main traits is how stubborn and headstrong he is. Throughout MCD season 2, Laurance continuously refuses to listen to others' advice. He doesn’t listen to Vincent or Vylad, instead deciding to deal with things his way. And when he realizes he does need advice, it’s too late. And the only person to turn to is Sasha.

He is also prone to grudge-holding, he doesn’t seem to forgive people quickly. We see this in how long he takes to warm up to Zane and Gene in Mystreet especially. And how he distrusts Sasha at first despite their history together in MCD. If I remember correctly, he took longer than Garroth to start liking Aaron too. 

Laurance cares about his friends, VERY deeply. But he is no doormat. He is no sheep, rather he is like a goat. Following on his own accord. 

His care is shown by how he shuts himself away later on in mcd season 2. When it’s getting more apparent his behaviour is hurting those around him. And eventually leaves just to avoid hurting them. 

Overall, I think Laurance acts more open then he actually is. And is far more cautious and private then he lets on. But he holds the people he holds dear very close. 

Maybe in Mystreet, his caution is because of the Shadowknights. And he takes so long to forgive people because of his experiences with them.

.

[scenetocause]

🧡 for norrussell please?

omg i was really hoping someone would ask for some genders georg. set in the every colour illuminates cinematic universe. this goes a bit beyond kissing so like, m or whatever.

"Hi."

George feels the bed shift, as much as Lando moving. It's light, behind his eyelids, which means he's slept in as long as the jetlag or apparently Lando will allow.

"Hello, you." Cracking his eyes open enough to see his husband looming over him jumbles his brain for a second, wondering when Lando got so big.

He seems much more normal-sized when he snuggles down onto George's chest, under the duvet, wriggling until he can lie between George's thighs. "Missed you."

It's hard, Lando not coming to every race, now. It's better for Lella, it's insane to drag a three-year-old across the world with them and she deserves better than being stuck on 14-hour flights every other week but George got so used to them always being there it's really hurting, to be apart.

"Missed you too."

Lando wriggles down on him again, like he's pleased, was worried George might not care. Even though they've been calling each other every possible opportunity, suddenly realising how much they had to say as soon as they couldn't do it casually.

Like Alex is such a fucking headache in qualifying, George never knows how he's going to beat him, until he does. Lella's getting really good at Mario Kart (and the things they don't say, that maybe it's starting to be time for her to try it for real) and Lando's got some new designs. The pygmy goats are definitely gonna have whatever goat babies are called again. Did you know Natalie Pinkham's leaving Sky?

Turns out you can get very used to having each other on tap. To picking up the conversational threads they've been weaving for years, that other people would only get tangled in.

"You can sleep in," Lando's sort of mouthing at his chest, just above his right nipple, in a kind of lazy way that feels like he's just checking George is real. "I've checked on Lella, she's watching cartoons."

"Oh really?" He can't help the slightly smug tone. Normally Lando would be bringing their daughter straight in to see George, so this means he's got other plans.

"Yeah." Lando props himself up, still strong even if he's a little bit softer around his hips, now. "Gonna fuck you back to sleep."

George knows he's a bit of a stereotype, all that British uptightness but him and Lando have always been filthy. Still, it's a shock to have Lando on top, Lando actually topping not just writhing around on a strapon or begging George to let him rub off on his abs or something.

It's getting George interestingly wet. Maybe they should try it again, when he's less tired. Just for the data.

"Ok, sounds good."

"It does, yeah?" Lando's got a bit of a cocky air to him, pleased like he knows he's turning George on. "Let me-"

George does, spreading his legs easily. It's still, sometimes, weird when Lando touches him like his but it feels safe, in their bed, in their house. Lando's big fingers gentle, where he's working them over and into George, rubbing inside him.

"Are you-" George tries to get his own hands on Lando, find his dick but he gets them batted away.

"Of course I fucking am. Do you know how hot you are?" Lando dips his head down, hiding it against George's chest. "Watched the podium like fifteen times, thought I was gonna have a wet dream before you even got back."

He can't help giggling, even when Lando's hitting the good spots and there's definitely a sense of urgency starting to overtake them. "Fuck - well, I'll try and win again, for you."

"For me." Lando sounds happy about it, mumbling into George's skin. "Fuck, c'mon."

Lando's tongue presses into George's mouth at the same time his cock goes inside him and it's easier to enjoy it, with the distraction of less complicated penetration. It's always been easy, with Lando.

They don't need to say they love each other, mouths too busy with every familiar curl of tongue, Lando's tooth gap sharp against George's lower lip. It's enough to make a man ludicrously wet, that they know each other so well. That Lando's panting, frantic after less than two minutes and has to break the kiss because he's that fucking turned on, whimpering into George's shoulder while he reaches a hand down to actually get him off.

It's over quickly, for them both, everything sharpened by having been apart from each other for what feels like the first time in forever. George forgot how much they need each other, how they'd almost started taking time together for granted.

It pulls an embarrassing sobbing noise out of him, when he comes and Lando's just as bad, sighing and whining against George's neck when his hips rabbit a few, last, jerky times. Ludicrous, is what they are. Always have been.

Lando kisses him again and George doesn't call out the fact his face is wet, clearly feeling the same emotions.

"Go back to sleep, I'm gonna take Lella to buy bagels." It looks like it takes a monumental effort for Lando to roll off him. Even though it's George who's still an athlete, he's definitely not capable of that right now, melting back into the sheets as Lando tucks him in.

"Y'should shower first," he suggests and Lando flicks his shoulder, through the duvet, for it.

"Thought I'd just wander to the bakery stinking of sex, actually." He probably won't but there's something still-cocky about the way he says it.

George smiles inton the pillow, eyes already closed, when he hears Lando add. "Bet none of them have ever fucked an F1 driver."

[skyloftian-nutcase]

A Feathery Encounter (Dad Squad)

The stables were by far Rusl's favorite part of Abel's world... at least the ones that were somewhat functional. It gave him a little piece of home, though it made his heart ache because oh how Link would adore these places.

Rusl found his heart heavy once more, riddled with worry for his boy. He tried to push past it as best as possible. Link was a strong young man, and though Rusl was absolutely doing everything in his power to find him, he had to remind himself that Link was a capable fighter on his own as well.

But if those Yiga hurt a hair on his head... or pelt...

"A what?"

Rusl turned as he listened to the gossip of the few travelers in the area. Most of Abel's Hyrule was fairly desolate, but this one stable was known to be the most visited in the entire country. They'd headed here in the hopes of getting some intel since it would be a haven for people from all over Hyrule, each of whom might have some different information for them.

"I'm telling you, it's true!" the other person said to her companion. "The cucco actually spoke! The rumors were true! This was so worth the journey."

Rusl furrowed his brow. A talking cucco? What?

"I need to go talk to it too!" her companion announced excitedly. "I hear its prophecies are always true!"

A prophetic talking cucco??

Rusl watched the pair rush up a hill, tracing their path towards a large tree. A distinct clucking emitted from just in front of it, though the small crowd gathered there made the cucco impossible to see.

Well. It certainly wasn't the strangest thing that Rusl had encountered. The Ordonian headed to the other side of the stable where Abel and Fierce were quietly eating some food Rusl had forced into their hands. It was already apparent that Abel was quickly slipping into an exhausted and food-driven nap, barely able to hold himself up. Rusl really wanted to let his friend sleep, but this phenomenon required investigating. It could potentially give them a lead, assuming it was true.

"Have you heard of a clairvoyant cucco?" Rusl asked.

Abel froze mid bite and stared at him, brow furrowing in a manner that quite clearly said what the actual hell did you just say.

He supposed he hadn't heard of it, then.

"Is it your golden cucco?" Fierce questioned curiously.

Rusl laughed. "Oh, no, she isn't clairvoyant, just strong as an Ordonian goat."

Abel remained motionless as if he were still trying to process Rusl's first statement.

"The folk here are talking about it," Rusl explained before his friend's mind shorted out. "They say there's a cucco that can talk and tell prophecy. Everyone's flocking here for answers."

The joke immediately went over the deity's head, as predicted, but it at least spurred Abel to unfreeze. The former knight straightened instead, lowering his food to his bowl, though the look of utter bemusement hadn't faded.

"Perhaps it can guide us in finding the yoga performers," Fierce suggested, rising.

"They're not--never mind," Abel tried to say before sighing heavily.

Rusl was going to offer to investigate the matter himself; he simply wanted them to be informed. Nevertheless, both Fierce and Abel followed him to the hill where people had gathered. The warrior god clearly didn't understand the concept of a line and walked by everyone, and though some threw him annoyed looks, no one dared speak to the massive otherworldly man. Rusl gave an apologetic smile as he followed him, while Abel had the look of a man who would prefer the sweet embrace of death over investigating a talking cucco.

"Why don't you try to get some sleep?" Rusl offered to his friend.

"Oh no," Abel replied dully. "I have to see this."

The clucking grew ever louder until Rusl saw Fierce approach the seemingly normal-looking cucco. The bird watched him a moment before flapping its feathers excitedly.

"Thou hast come," came a strange voice from the cucco, though its beak didn't quite move in sync.

Rusl and Abel stared.

"It does talk," Rusl commented aloud in wonder. "Ha! Maybe it can help us, after all."

"This doesn't... this is..." Abel muttered, clearly trying to wrap his mind around the situation.

Rusl laughed, patting him on the back. "The world is filled with far more strange wonders than you can imagine, friend."

Fierce cocked his head to the side. "You carry a strange magic to you, feathered one."

"I am a sage of prophecy," the cucco answered. "Thou must comprehend that I can give thee what thou seekest."

This cucco kind of spoke like the light spirits. Rusl stepped forward hopefully. "Do you protect this land?"

"I do," the cucco replied.

"I'd love to see it fight a guardian," Abel grumbled.

"Thou seekest... a Hero," the cucco said slowly, immediately garnering the men's attention.

"Yes!" Rusl immediately confirmed. "Do you know where they are?"

"For thou to gain such knowledge, thou must complete trials," the cucco pronounced gravely. "Dost thou wish to continue?"

"Speak," Fierce commanded, crossing his arms.

"The first trial... is to feed all the horses in the allotted time."

The men stared. That... was a trial? What?

Rusl glanced at the stable and back at the cucco. He supposed, sage or not, the little feathered creature was just a cucco. Its priorities would likely be different than his own. Not that he didn't mind feeding horses, but... that was supposed to be a trial?

"Prepare thyself."

Rusl turned as the cucco gave them their time limit and counted down. As he quickly made his way back to the stable, he saw that Abel remained behind while Fierce accompanied the blacksmith.

"What sort of trial is this?" Fierce thought aloud. "It tests very little of our abilities."

Rusl shrugged. "I suppose its intelligence only stretches... so... far..."

Honestly, the more he thought about it, the less sense it made. The light spirits were no fools, after all. Nevertheless, they completed the trial quickly enough, though Fierce's offering to 'gather all the horses together to feed them faster' was quickly shot down as Rusl did not want to watch the strange man haul horses singlehandedly into the air to pile them together.

When the pair returned to the cucco, Abel was waiting with his arms crossed, and he cut them off.

"I know what's going on," he hissed quietly. "This is a Yiga trick."

"You think everything is a Yiga trick," Rusl pointed out. "I'll admit this is odd, but it's at least worth inspecting."

"Yoga performers do not have this magic," Fierce assured him.

"They're not--" Abel cut himself off, frustrated. "You know what, just watch."

Storming over to the cucco, Abel glared at it. "Oh great sage, I have a question for you."

The cucco clucked noncommittally.

"Do you like bananas?"

"Oh! I adore bananas!" the cucco immediately answered, its voice pitching in excitement. "They are the most blessed of all food!"

Abel looked pointedly at the pair.

"That... what?" Rusl stared at Abel, confused. Sure, a cucco liking some food he'd never heard of was different, but what in the world was Abel getting at?

"What do you mean what?!" Abel snapped, gesturing irritably at the innocent bird. "Don't you understand?!"

"We have completed the task," Fierce said instead, looking at the cucco as he gently plucked Abel out of the way, making the man hiss expletives his way and flail helplessly in the air, held in place by the back of his tunic. "Give us the information we seek."

"Oh, that's it!" Abel finally yelled, pulling out a bow and arrow.

Rusl yelled at his friend, trying to stop him from slaying a harmless cucco, but he loosed the arrow just as Fierce jerked him away. The knight really was erratic, attacking people (and now animals) at random. Thankfully, the deity's quick motion prevented the arrow from hitting its mark, but the bird jumped nonetheless.

And then vanished in a puff of smoke and red paper.

Rusl finally felt his patience growing thin. "Could you not attack everyone who isn't us?!"

"It's Yiga!" Abel snapped. "Now put me down, dammit!"

A laugh rung through the air, setting Rusl on edge, and immediately four people dressed in red--

Dressed in red. Like the attackers from before.

Fierce immediately dropped Abel as the knight drew his sword, and Rusl followed suit quickly. They dispatched the attackers swiftly, who left behind ruppees and yellow fruit in their wake.

"Those... weren't the performers from Clock Town," Fierce finally said.

"That's because they're not yoga performers." Abel said exasperatedly as he picked up the treasure. "They're Yiga traitors, and they're the ones who took my son."

"They're on to us, then," Rusl figured. Staring at the yellow fruit, he asked hesitantly, "Are those bananas?"

Abel shot him a flat look. "Yes. They are. Glad you have your priorities straight. The good thing about this is that it means we're close. They usually travel alone if they're venturing far from their base."

Fierce glanced off into the distance. "Then we should keep moving before their leaders notice their absence."

Rusl nodded in agreement, glancing a little worriedly at where the cucco had been. He had no idea how they could disguise themselves as such an animal, so he hoped they weren't actually abusing a cucco to use it as bait. When he saw no animal in sight, he figured it did indeed have to be some sort of magic disguise, and he sighed.

This place was stranger than he thought. Perhaps Abel's paranoia was... somewhat warranted. But at least now they had a lead.

I'm coming, Link.

[bluestar22x]

The Future

The Outcast - Epilogue: The Future

Summary: Just like winter, the end is just the beginning

Pairing: Pero Tovar x F!Reader

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 2,700 (ish)

Warnings: Mention of a baby goat (kid) having died, angst, pregnancy plot, non-graphic labor and birth, fluff, pov changes, quintessential happy ending

Author’s Note: This is a very self indulgent bonus part - you can read the first four parts and have a satisfying ending if this kind of ending isn't your thing. For those who do like this kind of ending guess what my favorite line(s) to write was.

Also, any names I used in this fic were themed and/or meaningful. And if one of my running themes of relating winter with life instead of death wasn't apparent, it should be now.

xxx

Death is far from a stranger on a functioning farm. Even though you usually sold your old, infertile goats to the nearest village's butcher instead of culling them yourself, that still left a whole slew of other ways for you to witness it. Illness, lethal injuries, stillbirths, and difficult deliveries that ended badly for the doe or her offspring or both had all occurred on your farm more than once.

You'd accepted it, and your need to hunt, a long time ago, because you loved the simplicity of this kind of life. You loved being mostly self reliant, knowing you could be fully self reliant if need be, and you loved the companionship of the animals you were dependent on.

Sometimes though, the deaths still hurt. Like when River, your first horse and Meadow's mother had died a few years after you'd moved onto the mountain, due to colic. She'd been in so much pain for so long you'd been forced to end her misery with a knife. The senseless guilt you'd felt after had lasted for weeks.

That was the most you'd ever cried over losing an animal, until one spring morning a year after Pero had decided to stay.

You tried to hide how upset you were by the latest death on the farm when you returned to the cottage to cook a morning meal for you both, but as soon as he followed you inside after an hour of chomping wood, you uncharacteristically started sobbing on sight of him.

Eyes filled with concern, your husband silently approached and gathered you up in his arms, kissing your temple as he did so. You took a deep breath and focused on his soothing warmth, his reassuring broad hands that slid up and down your spine, trying to put yourself back together.

"What has you so upset, mi esposa?" he eventually asked, nuzzling the side of your face, his short beard scraping against it lightly.

You stepped away from him, leaned against the kitchen counter top on one hand, and looked back to him. "It's one of Sweets' kids, the one who was sick, I found her dead this morning."

"I'm sorry cariño," he said quietly, dark eyes serious. "I know how hard you tried to save her."

You shook your head and separated yourself from him to look at his face. "It's not that, I could handle that, it has happened several times before, but it's the way Sweets reacted when I removed the body from the paddock. She started bleating and desperately searching for her, even though she had her other new kid alongside her, even though the body had been cold when I discovered it. Hearing those sounds from her broke my heart."

"It doesn't help I kept thinking -," you paused, eyes widening as you realized what you'd been about to say.

Pero frowned at the way you'd cut yourself off. "It doesn't help what?" he prompted gently.

You sucked in a deep, shaky breath. You figured you might as well not hide it from him. "It doesn't help I kept imagining what she was feeling. Putting myself in her place. I don't think I could handle it if I lost the baby that way."

"The baby," Pero repeated, lips parting in surprise. He reached out to you and tugged you back to him, his arm looped around your waist. "Mi amor, are you saying what I think you are?"

You nodded, fresh tears flooding your eyes, joy overcoming your trepidation. "I am. It's still early, I'm probably only two months or so along, but I'm certain."

You hadn't bled in that time, and had felt nauseous many times over the previous month, neither of which was normal for you. Your emotions had been all over the place lately too. You'd never been a super stoic character, but you were usually far from the emotional wreck you felt like that morning.

Pero beamed at you and the shock of it left you breathless. It was a rare sight, his smile, let alone one that obvious. He leaned forward and kissed your cheek softly, lovingly, showing more affection than you'd once thought him capable of. "Everything will be alright, cariño," he reassured you.

It was not something he could actually promise, no man could act as a god, but his words comforted you anyway.

"I'll need to find a midwife who would be willing to stay the winter with us," you told him nervously. "If I'm correct, the baby will be born in the final days of the year or the early ones of the next. The passage will be closed off by then. When my sister visits I'll ask her to help me search for one."

Pero caressed your cheek with a thumb. "I'm sure an older one without family to care for would agree to stay with us in exchange for coin and free room and board. If not, I will convince them."

You arched your eyebrows, understanding what he meant. "I appreciate the offer, but please don't threaten any of the village midwives, especially the elderly."

"I cannot make any promises, mi amor."

x

Winter had never come faster. Not because it actually arrived sooner, but because there was so much to do before then. In the late spring you and Pero planted your garden and a part of the field with enough crops to keep all the animals and yourselves through the winter.

In the early summer your sister and her husband visited with their four children, two girls and two boys, and for a week the tiny cottage was chaotic. The children were always running off doing something adventurous while your sister helped you milk the goats and Pero and your brother in law worked together to build an additional room to the cottage.

As summer neared its end and your belly rounded, you began to focus on smaller tasks. You still cooked and cleaned, you still took care of the horses and goats, and some of the weeding in the small garden behind the cottage, but Pero assisted you and he took on the tasks that were more dangerous by himself, like hunting. He did the extra work gladly, wanting to do everything he could for you, never feeling like he could do enough.

Harvest came around and your brother in law returned to help with the crops, the midwife your sister had found for you in tow. Her name was Franny, and she was strict about what you could and could not do, having you rest most of the day when she wasn't helping you knit baby clothes, but she was kind, reminding Pero of the one grandmother he knew for only a decade before she passed. It took him time to get used to another adult being in the cottage for so long, but he figured a newborn would be an even bigger adjustment, so he adjusted.

The first snowfall was almost a shock, the months having flown by in a blur, and Pero began to feel anxious. Even with Franny in the spare room, what would later become the baby's room, being closed off from the village for a whole season with you in your condition and eventually a newborn worried him. So many things could go wrong, you of all people knew that, but you would have never agreed to leave the farm. As far as you were concerned if Franny couldn't help you, nobody could, and he supposed you were probably right.

Your prediction about your due date turned out to be precise, your first pangs of labor beginning during an early afternoon at the start of the new year.

He'd found you in the barn, sitting on a square bale of hay with an arm curled around the huge swell at your abdomen, grimacing as you endured the first painful wave.

And then everything moved far too slow. He helped you into the cottage and watched as Franny got to work, prepping for the delivery, clueless about what he could do. Franny was no help there. Traditional as could be, she would've shooed him out of the cottage for the day, no matter the cold, if you hadn't insisted he stay.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to stay, as useless as he felt, as fearful as he felt, but he did it for you. He scraped his mind for ways to help all the while, assisting a dubious Franny in setting up the bed for you, gathering enough firewood to keep your home warm for a couple days, and caring for all the animals on his own as quickly as he could before returning to your side to let you squeeze his hand as your contractions continued to strengthen at an agonizingly slow pace.

It wasn't until morning the next day that Franny declared it was time for you to push. She had you sit up in bed and undress halfway with Pero's help before she prompted you to spread your legs and bend your knees. You pressed your back to Pero's chest after, using his body to support your own.

Through gritted teeth you bore down with several contractions, panting and breaking out in a sweat from your efforts. Pero kept his face close to yours, murmuring encouragement into your ear as you struggled. And when you reached back and grasped one of his a thighs tightly in an attempt to distract yourself, he let you, not caring whether or not it bruised under your fingertips if it helped you cope.

As the minutes passed, as you tired, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your legs trembling, he became concerned something might be wrong, but Franny remained calm, continuously urging you to keep going.

"A couple more," she promised you. "A couple more good solid pushes and it'll be over, sweetie. Don't give up now."

Pero saw it in your eyes, the moment you mentally and physically dug your heels in and began pushing with renewed determination, and he was awed, not sure how you'd come by the reserve.

Finally your laboring paid off and you slumped backwards into his arms, relief washing over your face as a sharp wail pierced the air.

He glanced from you to the small, wet infant flailing in Franny's arms, and his world shifted.

Outside, snow began to fall.

x

Ten years later...

"Why do I have to go?" the seven year old girl before you bemoaned. "Why can't I stay here?"

"You're not old enough to stay here by yourself, Stela," you explained. "Your brother wouldn't even be allowed to stay by himself and he's three years older than you."

"He's old," she stated and you couldn't help but chuckle.

"Maybe, but still not old enough."

Stela pouted at you then continued to put on her winter coat and boots, a long dramatic sigh slipping from her as she stood up from the kitchen chair she'd been sitting in. You thought she was far too young to be turning into a moody teenager, but guessed it was the part she'd inherited from her father breaking through.

You finished assisting her five year old sister, Lene, with her coat before leading them both outside into the frigid night. Lene immediately dove head first into the fresh snow layered on the ground gleefully, while her older sister folded her arms and stomped her way over to the front of the barn where Pero and her brother William were waiting for them.

Out of all of your children, William looked most like his father, his eye shape, chin, and nose all miniature copycats of Pero's. Stela had his eyes, but was more like you, physically, and Lene reminded you of your sister. However, they all shared Pero's dark hair and eyes.

"Ready to ride?" Pero quizzed Stela as she trudged right past him. He frowned when she showed no sign of hearing him and met your eyes. "What is she upset about this time?"

"She's angry about being outvoted," you replied. "Said she didn't want to see the stupid lights again and wanted to stay home. She's definitely your daughter."

Pero chuckled and pulled you against him at the hip with one hand as you both trailed your children into the barn to saddle up the horses.

Lene assisted her father with Orion, a four year old colt who was the youngest offspring of the since retired Clover and Thor, grandson to the deceased Meadow, and Pero's new mount. Like his sire, Orion was jet black in color, except for the small crystal shaped star marking that was usually hidden under his forelock. His surprisingly calm disposition was more like Clover though.

Your latest mount, a five year old solid bay mare named Aspen who was Orion's full sibling, was equally as quiet once she'd settled into adulthood, and you had her tacked in no time as Stela watched, still moping.

Last was Thunder, an eight year old bay gelding with a stripe shaped like a lightning bolt running down his face. The most well behaved and eldest offspring of Clover and Thor, Thunder had been assigned to William when he got old enough to start riding on his own.

He was still too tall for William to saddle him, so Pero flung it over the horse's back for him, but the young boy took care of the rest, a true horseman despite his youth.

Once you, Pero, and William led your horses outside the girls approached, Stela hesitantly letting Pero boost her up onto Orion, and Lene begging you to set her in Aspen's saddle. You and Pero climbed on your horses so you were behind them while William found a stump to help propel himself onto Thunder's back.

Someday the children would learn how to ride bareback, but it would not be that night, so you lived with it, though the wind was making you shiver and yearn for the shared body heat.

You led the way up the mountain as was tradition, your family making the trip at least once a winter, more if the children wanted to ride out that far in the dark.

Lene loved it. Loved everything, really. The girl had more positivity and enthusiasm than you and Pero could've ever had combined.

William enjoyed it as well, already into nature as much as you were, and just as quiet about it.

And Stela, well, she often spent most of the ride brooding and complaining about the cold. That night was no different.

Once you reached your destination, you, Pero, and William slowed your horses to a stop a few yards from the edge with your horses shoulder to shoulder so everyone had a great view of the lights.

While the children had grown older (far too quickly), and you and Pero had long since started to grey, the lights had remained the same, seemingly everlasting, tying the years of memories you'd shared together as they shimmered in the sky.

You looked to each of your children in turn and smiled at the delight on their faces, even Stela's, before you glanced to Pero, who was studying your face. You hoped he would never tire of it, cause you certainly wouldn't tire of looking at him, especially when he was holding your middle child by the hip to steady her, to make sure she wouldn't fall off Orion. He was always watching out for his children like that and whenever you witnessed it first hand your heart always threatened to combust.

Fate was not something you'd believed in when you were young, but the older you got, the more you weren't so convinced there wasn't something bigger out there at least nudging you towards the future you were supposed to live out. How else could you have been so lucky to find Pero in time? How else could he have been so lucky to have been chased up your mountain instead of any of the others in the chain that were uninhabited?

One change in events and you'd have never met, or he'd have never turned back come spring. And then you would've never married, and your children would've never been born. You would have spent the rest of your life in tranquility, happy, sure, but never quite fulfilled.

Whether or not fate was real, you were grateful.

You stretched your hand out towards Pero's and he automatically intertwined his fingers with yours, having long lost a hesitancy he'd had towards sharing that kind of intimacy with you.

"Let's head back home," you said simply, and he nodded, turning Orion away from you, for once choosing to take lead.

Guiding you into your future, like you had guided him home.

xxx

Tagged: @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed

xxx

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

xxx

[lennsart]

what is the autism fic about?

this is starting to feel like bullying-WHOSE FEELINGS ARE ETTING HURT???

and b*tch are you okay, is someone having a breakdown in there omg FEED ME

Ooooo you really sniped two of my most dark fics out of the three you chose 😂

I've already answered about "This is starting to feel like bullying" so I'll answer for the other two !

Let's start with the softer one :

- The Autism fic

"The Autism fic" is about... What's in the title ! lmao

It is also one of the Legend-centric one, but everyone has an important role and will get their moment to shine :)

Directly from my notes :

"Everyone is autistic 🎉

Legend has been raised to hide and mask it, and is ""conditionned"" to think it's rude to let autistic traits show

So at first most of the Links are like "wow, what an asshole"

[...]

Time and Wars are going full parents mode, they want everyone to feel comfortable in the group, so they try to protect them from ableism... which Legend does without knowing what it is

So they don't get along well

Actually it's like :

Know they are autistic and what it means :

- Warriors (spent a lot of time researching trauma response and the way the brain worked after the war (firstly to help his friends))

- Time (learned the terms during the war)

- Four (not the exact word, but he knows about neurodivergence)

Know they are "different" :

- Hyrule

- Sky

- Legend

Never really thought about it :

- Twilight (when he was a rancher it perfectly met his needs (I'm sure petting goats when you're overwhelmed is like THE remedy) and afterwards, some people were rude in castletown but he thought it was because he was a villager)

- Wind (is seen as a hyperactive and curious kid but not really more)

Wild is special because he knows, but also think it's because of the 100 years sleep thing ? And who cares, he saved the world and spend most of his time alone anyway."

I have the story planned out and a few scenes written, but it's mostly ideas and random scenes, it's far from being done (and not the wip I'm working on right now !)

Basically, in the downfall timeline people get more scared of difference and intolerant (maybe even because the fallen hero was autistic and they're like "well look how that turned out", but it's... A pretty sad idea). So Legend has been raised to hide it, and have constently been told that the way he acted (stimming, questionning social cues and stuff) was rude, unproper, and more importantly, dangerous for him.

I'll put the beginning here, because it summarize the whole thing pretty well, but I'm sorry for the length of this answer zhehhzehbhbezhez

Snippet :

"Apparently, the weirdness was a hero thing. 

Legend was quite puzzled upon this discovery. He had thought his whole life that the weird was a 'him' thing, and a bad one. That what was natural to him was very rude and that he needed to change it.

[...]

He was used to conceal.

He was used to act, smile and look in the eyes and laugh with everyone else. He was used to control, checking every few minutes if his hands were still and quiet. He was used to pretend to be like everyone else, and to be able to release those barriers when he was home, to collapse for an hour or so in his room, in the dark and under his covers.

Somehow, when he traveled during quests, he got surprised to note that he was less tired from a day of walking and exploring than from a day in town. Somehow he felt more like himself when he was alone on the road and bouncing on his feet when he saw a fun animal that he had never seen before.

Somehow, he had associated that feeling with travels.

And he was quickly understanding, as he spent time with other heroes, that he should have associated it with being alone.

He couldn't rest. Well, no, he could rest, they slept on the road and they didn't overwork themselves, but he couldn't rest like he did at home. 

Because everyone would see, and it wasn't because they had some of the weird that they would accept all of his.

The first few days, he managed. He had met the heroes while in a bad mood, and didn't bother to force any smile he didn't want to. They categorized him as grumpy, and not only was that fair, "grumpy" was an incredibly easier role to act on than "agreeable".

(Probably because it was less polite, but... It was a bit late to be, and they didn't seem to mind too much.)

But after a while, it started to wear him out.

He joked less and mocked more. He was more tired and thus less considerate. He didn't manage his tone as well, nor his facial expressions.

He played with his rings a lot (which was an acceptable way to let out some steam, he had found out while observing adults in town, but only as long as it didn't become obsessive). He felt frustrating needs to just gesticulate nonsensically until his body felt less stiff, less foreign, more... Right.

He didn't feel right, was what it was.

And he resented the other heroes for not making any effort."

- Bitch are u okay

I want to clarify one thing : when a wip have a funny title, most of the time they are speaking to me !

"This is starting to feel like bullying" meant bullying towards Legend, that I kept writing whump about.

So the question "bitch are u okay" is directed towards ME, and the answer is no :D (at least when I started writing this)

This is legit the heaviest wip I worked on :)

To put it simply, Legend is depressed, very much so, and Dark Link feeds off the heroes' negative feelings. This doesn't mix well as you can guess !

The first part of the fic would be a descent to hell. Poor Lege is already struggling, and the more he tries to make an effort and do things, the more he feels like he messes up. So why try at all ?

I think I have written about darker themes, but the fact that this is often Legend's POV makes it kind of... Hard to read, in a way ?

I only write on this wip when I'm either in a good mood and know it won't affect me, or when I struggle and need to vent, no in-between because then it would make me feel down.

And, yeah, Legend is having a breakdown in this one. A big one 😅

But what is important to me is that the second part of the fic is about healing. It's about how having a good support system helps, how healing isn't linear but progress is always progress. It's not just a vent fic, I want Lege to get better, dammit !

The thing is, I like "healing" as a theme for my fictions, and the next long fic I plan on posting also speaks about this (with a twist). I just don't know if I should fuse those two fics (but I'll lose some of what makes them special in both cases) or if I should just assume that I'm always writing the same stories in different fonts 😆

I don't have a big snippet for this one, but just to set the tone, it starts like this :

" It's just one of those days.

Legend wakes up, barely opens his eyes, and suddenly, existing is too hard.

Getting up and eating and talking with friends sounds like torture. Having to wait for the night to be able to curl up under his covers is already an ordeal, and for Nayru's sake he's not even out of his bedroll yet. "

(I'm sorry for the length of this post oh my god now THAT is rambling)

[comparativelysuperlative]

Saw some of the Interminable Leather Discourse on my dash. Has anyone ever done an authoritative estimate of how bad it is or isn't?

They don't raise and kill animals specifically for leather. The hide is 4-10% of the monetary value of animals raised and killed for meat.

(10% according a rando on the leatherworking Reddit; 4% according to The Leather Lobby Incorporated's page on We Swear We're Not Evil, You Guys, citing a source that does not seem to say that. I'm just going to call it 5% for the round number.)

Approximately 55 square feet of leather per cow.

The lobbyists up there said it was 69% cows; the rest is sheep+goats+pigs, with pigs being the next biggest. Make it ~42.6 square feet per dead animal; the true number will be a bit smaller because they're not all pigs.

(Apparently if you buy Chinese leather and aren't careful about your sources they sometimes sell leather made from cat or dog skin and lie about it. I assume leather-wearers are not okay with this, but would be interested to find out why. Like, I know my reason, but it's probably not the same one.)

40 square feet for a small men's jacket. More for large, less for women.

A typical leather jacket kills about 1/20th of an animal, in the same ballpark as eating 100 (beef) burgers, or about half of a (chicken) burger.

Animals killed by faux leather:

Literally none?

If every plastic jacket you ever buy ends up in a landfill, that's like...one really big trash bag? A few square feet of area that didn't have much of anything living on it anyway?

Not trying to be sarcastic here; I just genuinely don't see how this hurts or kills much of anything.

Making plastic can't possibly be good for the environment, but it's definitely less bad than growing a one-twentieth-ass cow.

Final opinion on the Discourse:

Depending on how much meat you eat and how long you wear your clothes for, wearing leather is probably less bad than eating beef but around that ballpark.

It is way less bad than eating chicken.

As always, someone who eats as many cows as they want and no other animals has accomplished most of the good things about being vegan with barely any effort. This stays true if they also wear leather.

Arguing about leather is like arguing about the difference between mostly-vegetarian and actually-vegetarian.

I was hoping it'd be a small enough difference that I could say whatever, it's a rounding error, I'm gonna go buy leather now. It wasn't; this is a real difference.

But it is small enough that if you want to wear a leather without people yelling at you, you can skip buying chicken for three weeks and link the activists here so they get mad at me instead of you.

You know, if Internet arguments sound like a fun use of your time.

[spunchthegoblin]

Review of each IB class as an international baccalaureate diploma haver (IB is just AP but more european)

HL English - One of the less stressful classes. I like reading and writing, I remember finishing assignments earlier than expected. I got a 5

Oral exam - Did this in junior year, I did it on V for Vendetta (the movie) and Small Gods by Terry Pratchett because I was smoking fucking crack apparently

Paper - I barely remember this one, I think I did it on Ajax. Easy

Exams - Easy shit. I even had time to draw on the back

HL History - Having a good teacher helped. Not caring about WW1 did not help. I got a 5

Paper - Actual garbage. Worst thing I've ever written. Wrote it in junior year then had to edit it a year later and it was so bad

Exams - More stressful than the english ones, my hand fucking hurt, still had time to draw on the back because I'm the goat

SL Biology - Yayy :3 aminals and cell :3 slime :3 (I got a 5)

Paper - did it on slime mold hehe. Make sure you have your plan together early on in this assignment in case you need to order materials

Exams - If you make up enough things about science you might accidentally stumble into the right answer!

SL Math - I'm one of those sick fucks who like math. If you're a normal person then I'd consider getting a tutor to lessen the stress. I got a 5

Paper - finished this in like 2 days easy

Exam - Literally fuck my entire life

HL Theatre - If you're willing to embarrass yourself, lie, cheat, and steal, then this is an easy HL class. I got a 5

Papers - there's no exam for this class, only papers and recorded performances. The directors notebook was fun (didn't require any acting, I could draw pretty pictures). The research project was ok, make sure that your subject has more than one source describing it (I did mine on Kabuki theater so pretty easy). The group project... I don't want to think about that. The solo project was almost fun I got to writhe on the floor like a worm.

SL Spanish - literal dante's inferno type journey. I got a 4

Oral exam - on GOD don't be autistic

Exams - If I had a gun I'd kill myself

Extended Essay - don't forget to have fun and be yourself :) I got a D. If I could pass with that dogshit essay then SO CAN YOU!!

CAS - If you're bad at lying on IB assignments at this point I don't know how to help you. I actually don't know if they grade this? I'm not checking

CAS project - Make sure to do this completely last minute ok? :3

CAS presentation? - The thing you record all your CAS stuff on. People say that the Service part was the most difficult but that was easy for me since my town has a lot of volunteer opportunities, yours does too if you look hard enough. I had trouble on the Active because I do not go outside.

Ok I think that's everything but just make sure that you get deeply invested into a new video game two weeks before the exam this step is crucial also make sure you get into a college that only accepts 45 of your IB credits even though you got 55 LITERALLY KILL YOURSELF WESTERN WASHINGTON SUCK MY BALLS

[imagionationstation]

And also for the rise x 2912 separate au

that does mean the hidden city, and draxum and stuff exist

my idea for draxum is that he’s one of the scientists that made the mutagen that mutated the turtles but accidently got mutated himself. He ran, found the hidden city and became how he is in the rise show.

— ♊️

Connected to This Ask.

See, there’s a different between “Big Mama exists” and a Rise x 2012 au, mkay. I have about six hundred things to rethink. We’re stepping into unprecedented territory. I assumed the Hidden City existed (there is no Hotel without residents) but Draxum exists?? And he was a scientist that made the mutagen?

So what does that mean about the Kraang???

No, no, wait- I GOT IT.

Draxum was a scientist like Rockwell and Victor Falco who was working on the mutagen UNTIL he found out that the Kraang were aliens. Then he learned why they were on the planet and realized that he probably shouldn’t be working on this for them. Upon finding out that one of the humans were pulling away, the Kraang decided to eliminate a potential threat and take back their mutagen.

Since he’s “how he is in the Rise show”, maybe he intended to make the turtles using the mutagen. His experiments were interrupted by the Kraang who starting blasting things. Draxum touches goat DNA and turns into goat-man, stumbling away from the wreckage.

He sees an open portal, and hearing sirens in the distance, escapes through it to avoid getting back into Kraang hands.

Why was there a portal? Well, Big Mama had heard of a substance created within the city that could turn normal creatures into something more. She was keeping an eye on Draxum when the place exploded. The Yokai in charge of watching the place was there when crazy went down. They found a baby Donnie in the wreckage. Upon hearing the sirens and seeing movement in the rubble, they scooped him up and took him back to the Hidden City. From there, Donnie found his way into Big Mama’s curious appendages.

Now, Draxum thinks his turtle experiments are gone.

In reality, Splinter is drawn to the explosion and finds a sobbing Leo alone and injured. He accidentally steps on a rat, catching his balance on a dumpster coated in mutagen. After his transformation, the poor man escapes to the sewers to hide with his baby boy <3

The O’Neil’s were driving past a while after the place went ✨boosh✨. They almost hit the turtle crawling in the road, barely swerving out of the way. Toddler April claimed that turtle as her own. And Kirby, heartbroken over his wife and hoping to bring joy to her life, let her keep the turtle mutant. He keeps any suspicions about where the creature came from to himself.

Shredder had his Foot Ninja casing the joint. (Maybe he has suspicions of something happening within his city?) When the place exploded and the little freak of a turtle was launched at the building that they were perched on, the ninja were shocked to find it still alive. The tiny turtle struggled to move, brazenly attempting to hiss and bite when they came close. They scooped him up and brought him back to their master.

AND SO- Draxum has an obsession, similar to the show. And he thinks creating stronger mutant creatures will solve this. (Humans are mutant monkeys, apparently.) Draxum has spent his life trying to figure out how to rid the world of the Kraang. And he doesn’t care what he has to do to stop them from taking over. Or who he hurts.

And there you have it. ✨2012&Rise backstory✨

ALSO WHAT DRAXUM’S CANON?

WELL WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY SO-

(Based off the fight scene from Rise’s Bug Busters)

“Mother!”

Big Mama snaps her head towards Donnie’s voice, his arms pushing against the vines that hold him down, struggling to get out from inside them. He winces as they squeeze; the turtles trapped in her web cry out in alarm. The vines continues to coil tighter around shell as she picks up on the grin in Draxum’s tone. “It seems we both have something that the other wants.”

“Big Mama is not a high pillow to be intimidated, Draxy.” All premise of civility drops from her tone, letting a dark fury slip in. “Now I recommend you get off my primy-prom premises before Mama gets nasty.” 

“Oh, I plan to.” He sneers. “With my property. And you’ll let me leave, or I’ll squeeze your turtle until he pops. How’s that for a deal?”

“Ngghh-” Donnie’s hands slip as the grip tightens, pain and panic consuming his features. “Moh-hhh- Mother!” 

“Have it your way.” She presses the pad on her little boy’s invention. It releases the hover feature as her thumb taps a button underneath, pushing it over to the goat man. “Take the mutagen. But this will not be the last you hear of Big Mama.”

“Perhaps it should be.” Draxum lays his hand on the box. “Or I’ll do much worse.”

He flicks his hand and the vines holding Donnie whip, sending him flying. He slams into one of the glass windows that surrounds her office, carapace shattering it on impact, flying through to the street below. She doesn’t notice Draxum call out to his pets, or hear the turtles’ shout. A blur of green races past her and to Draxum.

She doesn’t pause to think. She chucks herself out after him. Glass cuts at her but her hairs prevent her from feeling a thing. She falls, her weight and momentum bringing her straight to him. 

She grabs him, burying the limp form in her arms, and shoots a web. It splatters against the building and she swings, launching herself into one of her lower floors. The room is vacant as she crashes into the bed, knocking several expensive items off the dresser and shelves. The room may belong to a human who won’t appreciate the mess, but she doesn’t spare it a thought. 

She uncurls from her protective ball, two large arms cradling him as her smaller ones cup his face, scanning for any major injuries. Her poor, innocent baby boy is cut and bruised from all the excitement, ever as light and tiny in her arms. “Oh, my clever, sweet boy. What kind of fizzlewinkle have you gotten us into?”

Obviously unconscious, he doesn’t say a word. She holds him close, moving over to the panel on the wall. She brushes along the side, mutant DNA unlocking the shield, and then flips it over. She presses the shimmering button, stating, “Send security up to my office. There are multious invaders and I want every one detained.”

“Right away, Big Mama.” 

[trivialbob]

Today was scorching hot and very sunny. I doused myself with suncreen, filled a backpack with water, more sunscreen, and dental floss, and went over to the "Great Minnesota Get-Together," otherwise know as the annual Minnesota State Fair.

When I arrived at 10:00 AM the place was packed. If you do not revel in big crowds, sweaty people, fried food, food on a stick, high food and drink prices, farm animals, or tractors, this place is not for you. I can tolerate this mixture of things if I go to the fair every few years.

Lots of people. Did I already say that?

Getting there is easy if one takes a bus. $5 buys a round trip ticket from one of several park-and-rides around the cities. Both the bus ticket and the admission ticket can be purchased online ahead of time. Very easy.

People watching is excellent. Food smells are delightful. The assortment of eats is interesting. It would never have occurred to me to make deep-fried pickles. I didn't try them but I heard some people raving about how good they were.

French fries and huge tubs of chocolate cookies are popular and available in several stands. I shudder thinking what a nutrition label on those cookies would look like. It likely would indicate a serving size as "one small bite" just so the amounts of sugar, sodium, and fat didn't exceed 200% of the recommended daily allowance.

For my lunch I tried the HotDish-on-a-Stick. Hot Dish is a Minnesota thing, made with a tater tot topping over a mixture of meat, cream of mushroom soup, and maybe some veggies. The stand selling hotdish-on-a-stick didn't have a line of people. That is not a good sign. It did have a sign explaining what you got for $7 (a bargain compared to other food stands).

I liked the concept, but results didn't work for me. It tasted like deep fried batter. The mushroom-hamburger dipping sauce was too salty, and I only dipped into it one time.

Some food stands had enormous lines. There must have been 150 people waiting for a new-this-year doughnut stand. "The Doughnut" was $5. Based on the long line, they easily could charged more. The Peanut Butter Cream doughnut was $10. At that price I would have thought it would be served on a stick. This stand had me curious, but I wasn't going to wait in that line.

On Machinery Hill there were collections of vintage farm and garden tractors. Very cool. There were also lots of trucks, modern lawn equipment, side-by-sides, ATVs, and travel trailers on display. I sat on a swell little John Deer tractors and made revving noises with my mouth, much like I did as a 5-year-old in Sears stores long, long ago. I thought it was funny, but an actual 5-year-old boy today looked at me and backed away.

There are also a lot of the "as seen on TV" displays, selling items you didn't know you had to have!

The 4H people had farm displays. I like those kids. The Miracle of Birth Center had newborn calves, chicks, goats, and lambs.

After several hours of walking around my feet were burning and my back hurt a little. As I made my way back to the gate where the buses were, I stopped to try some deep fried mac and cheese bites and have a beer. Those bites were delicious. The beer, while a little pricey, was extremely refreshing and frankly worth the price in that heat.

I plopped into a seat on the articulated bus. The air conditioning worked very well. I actually started to nod off as we waited to leave.

Four blondes and a brunette get on a bus...

No, this isn't a joke. It really happened. As my bus started to pull away and take us back to our cars, an adorable young woman, the brunette, walked up to the driver.

"Wait, where does this bus go?" She apparently missed the large banners with park-and-ride names and the those same names flashing on the bus LED signs.

The driver explained that we were going to the Bloomington park and ride, next to the Mall of America.

The brunette turned to her similarly cute cohorts, the four blondes with nearly identical haircuts, who sat midway down the bus.

"What bus did we take to get here?"

The other four came up to the front of the bus. They discussed it. I heard one blonde say she was sure they had not parked in Bloomington.

"Ohmygosh, will let us get off this bus?"

We hadn't left the parking area yet so the driver politely said he could do that. The brunette turned to address the rest of the passengers.

"I'm so sorry you guys, to make you wait like that." (It had been under a minute.)

Everyone said it was no problem and wished them well finding the correct bus. I smiled, then dozed off for the ride to Bloomington.