#it's better and it's worse and I guess I'm just sitting on my lawn shouting about the good old days

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

8 and 12 for the Guild Wars ask game!

Thank you for the ask! :D

8. Do you have any items you keep in your characters’ inventory for purely sentimental reasons?

Since I got a couple of 8s, let's move on to bank.

Or better not, because I basically keep everything that could be unique. That one drop you only need for a collection and can sell or delete? You bet I still have it. "Click to gain karma" drawings of children from the event back in 2013. Yup. I have issues.

Some items I love for no particular reason are the amulet Call of the Wild, which was the first ascended item I bought (luckily there's no gear grind, so it's still as valuable 10 years later), one of almost every color of lucky rabbit's paws (I AM MISSING GREEN AND THEY REMOVED THE VENDOR *sobs*), a "Cipher Ring" and an "Awakened Soul" which I got roughly around the time I was playing Pillars of Eternity 😂, "Charr-Nip" and "Old Tom's Vital Readings (He's Dead)" which dropped for a collection when killing Old Tom.

12. Is there anything that has been removed from the game that you miss or are particularly nostalgic about?

I'm a bit salty about the legendary wardrobe/skill templates. On the one hand, it's great: Once you unlock a legendary item, every char can use it simultaneously. I'll never have to buy a single piece of armor again. Incredible.

On the other hand, for weapons that sucks, because the moment you unequip it and it's not used in another template, the customization is gone: Runes and infusions drop out, stats reset, skin is gone. That's no monetary loss, but if I quickly wanna swap to a different weapon to use a skill and swap out the wrong one, I can spend 1 min reassembling my gear 😂

Quick weapon swap was common in dungeons: pull out that hammer to blast, and that warhorn to speed up, back to sword. So now despite having those "everyone can use them" legendary weapons... I don't use any of them, but buy the lower rarity ones instead. All that wasted money 😭

And even worse, you have two gear template slots. Now if that sword you just swapped out for warhorn is also used in the second template, it does not drop back into inventory (which is, in theory, great, because you save up to 16 slots by not having to drag a full gear set around!), so I cannot reequip it quickly.

It's not a problem if you use the gear templates for completely separate things - heal and damage, condi and power - but that also sucks, because you use food and enhancements with each build, which $$$, and they don't get swapped along but have to be overwritten each time, so it's more practical to make two completely different chars so you don't have to throw a gold at it after every second fight.

That's probably a lot of words someone not playing the game won't quite get, sorry 😅

[casspurrjoybell-28]

Alpha's Temptation - Chapter 42 - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

I wait there with my arms crossed as Theo walks across the lawn, giving me an awkward wave.

He still wears his dark sunglasses, the same as usual.

I feel like I've only seen his eyes twice in my life.

He probably knows what's happened between Daemon and I.

They are brothers, after all.

"Are you here to say 'I told you so'?" I ask him as he approaches.

He was the one who told me that Daemon would break my heart.

At that time, I didn't believe him.

But now... Theo lifts his shoulders in a shrug, running a hand through his hair.

"Well, did I not?"

"You did."

I watch him skeptically as he comes to stand in front of me.

"I told you that because I know my brother. It was only a matter of time before he'd do something like this," he says and then he's reaching out, pulling me into an unsettling hug.

Why the hell is he hugging me?

I push him back, slightly, looking up at him with confusion on my face.

"A-are you trying to comfort me? I thought you hated me, Theo. Don't you think I'm some kind of gold digger?"

Theo sighs, shaking his head.

"I misjudged you, Ash. I let my bias against Daemon pass on to you. For that, I am sorry."

"Really?" I raise an eyebrow.

This is weird. Very weird.

"Of course," he pats my shoulder.

"Sit with me."

He sits down on the steps and I begrudgingly join him, still absolutely bewildered.

It's quiet for a few moments as I wait for him to speak.

"Was Daemon good to you?" he finally asks.

"W-what?"

"It's a simple question. But you don't have to say, if you don't want to."

"I guess h-he was. For the most part," I say, telling the truth, despite the bitterness the mention of my mate brings me.

"The second part of your statement brings me to believe he wasn't."

"I mean he was g-good," I pause for a moment, thinking about whether this is really something I should be talking about with Theo.

But against my better judgement, I go on.

I have nothing to lose, anyway.

"B-but sometimes he'd get... angry. And there was one time when he got..."

I stop myself as tears rise, remembering the time he shouted at me that I was annoying.

"He got drunk. You can say it," Theo finishes my sentence for me.

"O-Okay," I sniffle.

"It was only going to get worse from there. Daemon is...damaged. He has no control and ends up hurting those he's close to. He lets his anger get the best of him."

I wince at Theo's words, can't helping the need to defend my mate.

"B-but..."

"He left you. Of his own will. He didn't have to go on that mission. He chose to. I would know, being the pack Alpha."

My argument stalls and I stare at Theo with sad eyes, tears spilling out.

Daemon really did that?

Just so he wouldn't have to see me anymore?

"He left so he didn't have to deal with the aftermath of ending things with you. What were you going to do, Ash, if years down the line he did this?"

"I d-don't know," I cry into the sleeve of my sweater,

"Maybe he had his reasons."

Theo wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me against him.

"You don't need him. No mate at all is better than a mate like him."

This is all very strange to me but I'm vulnerable right now and someone offering me comfort is better than nothing at all, even if it is Theo.

I cry into my hands, letting my head rest on his shoulder.

H-he's such a jerk," I sob, my chest constricting with pain.

"That's Daemon for you."

"I j-just don't get how he could leave me s-so fast. Like I w-was nothing..."

I continue to weep and Theo keeps his arm wrapped tight around me, silent as I let out all kinds of confessions about how horrible I feel and how mad I am at Daemon.

After awhile I calm down, hiccuping and wiping my face with my sleeves, my chest rapidly rising and falling.

Once I've fully stopped crying, Theo pulls back to look at me. I blink at him, not knowing to say.

My face is sore and probably extremely red.

I don't expect it when Theo lifts his hand, removing his glasses to reveal dark stone eyes.

I stare at them, an unsettling feeling in my gut.

Then he's reaching for me, and I sit there baffled as he caresses my face.

"He doesn't know what he had," Theo says, stroking my hair behind my ear.

"W-what?" I ask in confusion, recoiling from his touch.

"You have potential far greater than this, Ash. I see it. How devoted you are to others, how you stand up for what you believe in. That kind of heart is what I need beside me."

Theo complimenting my assets is probably one of the last things I ever thought would happen.

"W-where are you going with this?"

Theo takes a deep breath before he says,

"Be my Luna."

Silence.

My jaw nearly drops as soon as the words leave his mouth.

"You're joking."

"Does it look like I am?" he says in a serious tone, his brows lowered in a frown.

Shit.

From the look on his face, he really means it.

"Why would you ever... this doesn't even make sense! I'm still in high school... not to mention I'm your brothers mate."

Theo shakes his head.

"None of that matters. You are my mother's gift to me. I was bitter, at first because I thought she sent you for Daemon. But now I know she would never do that. She'd never give you to someone like him."

"She 'sent' me? What does that mean?"

Rose died before any of them knew I existed!

"That is all you need to know," he says, standing up.

"Think about what I've said. If you join me, you will never want for anything and you will rule this pack alongside me."

"A-are you crazy?" I ask in shock.

Theo shrugs.

"He is not coming back, my moon. It really would be in your best interests to consider my offer."

I watch in utter confusion as he walks back across the lawn, getting back in his car.

Did Theo just freaking propose to me?

That's what that was, right?

What is happening?

I go back inside with the strangest, most ominous feeling and can't help but feel a certain sense of déjà vu about the whole situation.

[builder051]

Happy SS! I'm so glad to hear you're doing better!! For a prompt, In Whoa Bessie verse, could you do something where Steve has had a bad day at work and is just feeling down and has a headache. Then there's a St. Patrick's Day thing with a lot of noise from outside (idk if that's a thing or what my neighbors do, but it's annoying), so he feels worse and ends up throwing up, and James is confused because he isn't sure if Steve is emotionally sick or physically sick, so doesn't know what to do.

You have a lot going on in here. It's great, but I'm going to par it down just a bit so it's easier to follow in a short fic.

Powers/No Powers

___________________

Steve eagerly removes his helmet the moment he powers off his bike. It feels like the thing is a size too small, wedged on his head instead of sitting snugly. Pulling it off does nothing but muss his hair. Steve's forehead throbs while everywhere else still squeezes painfully. He cringes a little as he closes the grinding and squeaking garage door. He should oil it soon. Maybe when the weather warms up. But for now, all Steve wants is to go inside, where he hopes Bucky is doing something quiet and relaxing.

Steve drops his bag by the door, then bends to untie his shoes. His back aches, and his head protests the new position, redistributing the pressure into his sinuses as well. Steve blinks hard, as if that will help him find equilibrium again, and meanders through the living room and into the kitchen.

Bucky sits at the table, a coffee cup in front him. He seems to be ignoring his drink, though, in favor of staring out the window. It takes a moment for him to look up, but once he sees Steve, he smiles.

"Hey," Bucky greets him. "How was work?"

Steve shrugs. "Eh." He doesn't feel much like elaborating. There's nothing really worth reporting, but, now that he thinks about it, he's not sure he feels up to standing and talking. "Mind if I sit?" he asks, gesturing to the chair beside Bucky's.

"Sure." Bucky goes back to gazing outside. He shakes his head a little. "I can't believe..."

"Huh?" Whatever he's looking at, Steve can't quite see it. He can't make his eyes focus past their dying patch of grass anyway.

"Neighbors." Bucky rolls his eyes. "They opened their outdoor storage this morning, and all day it's been patio chairs and birdbaths... I seriously think I saw a mini trampoline." He smiles at Steve, perhaps to see if he can elicit a laugh.

"Wow," Steve whispers. "Not to put our plastic adirondacks to shame, but I'd never put that much into a rental."

"Oh, I haven't told you about the barbecue grill yet."

"It's a townhouse," Steve sighs. "There are, like, community rules..."

"The grill's as big as the ones at those... what do you call them? Hibachi restaurants?" Bucky says.

"Where're they even putting it?" Steve asks.

"On their possibly quite flammable lawn, of course. To give the trampoline enough space on the patio."

"Wow." Steve pulls his phone from his pocket where it's been digging painfully into his hip bone. "Remind me not to go ask them to borrow a fire extinguisher."

The screen of Steve's phone automatically alights when it comes into contact with the table. The splash screen he prefers shows several infographics meant to be helpful at a glance. He closes one eye and peers through the glare. "Shit, it's 43 degrees out. Set to hit 30 overnight."

"Well, at least if they drop anything flaming, it'll only sizzle?" Bucky tries.

"If they drop anything...?" Steve repeats, confused. "They're not cooking out tonight, are they?" His stomach drops, all hopes for a quiet night dashed. As if on cue, someone shouts from the next house down, and something metal scrapes against rough sidewalk. There's sloshing as well. Steve takes a wild guess that it's the propane tank.

"Nothing better to celebrate than, uh... Wednesday night in the middle of March?" Bucky pulls a face.

Steve slumps forward, his elbow on the table. "Next real holiday isn't till Easter... And nobody parties for Jesus."

"Nobody parties on Sunday," Bucky adds. "And nobody as smart as they are gets ready this early."

"Ugh." Steve wrinkles his nose. The scent of charring already-there-char is strong and bitter. It's like a stale cigarette he hasn't consented to smoking. They've lit the grill. Steve buries his face in his arm. Even though he can't feel the heat of the barbecue, hot prickles form at his hairline. He feels as if he's suddenly dressed too warmly for the day. But a long-sleeved oxford and slacks usually suit him fine for early spring.

"I think you're supposed to take the racks off before you scrub them with the metal brush. To clean it?" Bucky says. "Even I know that."

Steve's jawline goes watery, and he gulps hard. He plants his palms on the table and scoots his chair back before slowly pushing himself up.

"You ok?" Bucky moves his coffee cup so it's out of Steve's way. "Getting out of here before they put on the steaks is probably a good idea."

"Yeah..." Steve rubs his sleeve across his forehead. It comes away damp, though with sweat or oil he can't tell. "Is the bedroom TV still working?"

"Yeah, when it's not cloudy," Bucky replies. "You know that antenna's as temperamental as, well, as I am."

"Hm." Steve tries to smile, but he feels the need to keep his lips pressed together. He swallows. "Is your show on tonight? Uh, Downton Abbey?"

"Do you even pay attention to what we watch?" Bucky raises an eyebrow. "Downton ended a long time ago."

"Everything on PBS looks the same..." Steve admits.

"Grantchester." Bucky points upward. "They have trench coats."

"Let's plan to watch trench coats upstairs, then," Steve says. There's a twist in his stomach that, now that he's standing, has the space to curl tighter around itself with every throb of his head. "D'you want dinner?"

Bucky opens his mouth to speak, but Steve keeps talking. "You're on the good meds now; of course you don't want dinner. I'm good. I'll meet you in the bed."

Steve starts backing out of the room before he realizes he's doing it. He stumbles over the edge of the rug that marks the change from kitchen to living room, and that's when he takes stock of what he's doing.

Bucky does as well. "What's up? What're you doing?"

"I'm fine," Steve murmurs. His mouth feels foamy; there's a terrible taste creeping down from the back of his tongue. His heart's pounding now in anticipation that's all kinds of wrong. "I just need to--"

Steve would rather be beheaded. Then he remembers Bucky's had his arm amputated. While conscious. He revises his thoughts. "I'll be up--"

Up. It's all coming up. His cheeks are full of it before he can make it fully into the bathroom, and spitting into the sink is the best he can do. Steve knows it won't go down the drain; someone will have to clean it up later. He imagines Bucky, struggling to hold a plastic bag or a mason jar whilst using a spoon to pick up mucousy stomach contents.

No. Steve won't let him. He'll do it himself. It'll have to be later, though. Right now, he needs to hang his head over the toilet, lest the sink basin get another helping. Maybe even overflow.

Steve doesn't get more of a chance to consider, for he miscalculates how far forward he's leaning, and as he straightens up to turn around, he cracks his head on the very stationary and very sharp faucet. Steve's eyes water, and he swears under his breath. He clamps his hands over the spot where a goose egg is sure to bloom, then drops to his knees, lamenting the lack of bathroom carpet around the toilet.

Steve tucks his chin and rests it on the toilet seat. His stomach convulses and he vomits again. His body gives him the briefest respite before it commences more heaving. Steve tries counting, but the number of retches seems pointless to note, especially as they begin to run dry. He enumerates his breaths instead, though he can't seem to get past four without starting over again.

He's back on his heels, sweaty hands holding the toilet bowl, and with a dribbly string of saliva still swinging down from the corner of his lip when Bucky taps softly on the wall beside the door. It's neither latched nor closed all the way, so not barging in is more a show than a necessity.

"Steve?"

"...Three..." Steve takes a gulping breath, then swallows the urge to cough.

"That's how I rank today?" Bucky asks. "Or are we talking pain scale?"

"I can breathe," Steve assures him.

"Glad to hear it. Should I be worried you might not be able to?" Bucky leans into the door frame, his shadow creating a wave of shallow darkness that's actually quite comfortable against Steve's watering eyes.

"Nah. 'M good."

"Good as in, done puking?" Bucky tries to clarify. "Because I'm not buying that you actually feel good right now."

"Yeah, done." Steve swats at the toilet flush. It takes two tries to hit it with enough force to do anything.

Bucky holds out his arm for stability, and Steve takes it, though he moves slowly from sitting to crouching to a hunched standing position.

Bucky gives him a once-over. "Can you actually see right now?"

"Um..." Steve's spared answering by the need to swallow a foul-tasting hiccup.

"Not very well, right?" Bucky offers. "I mean, like, blurry and weird and bright?"

"Yeah..." Steve puts his wrist bone to his eye socket, as if that may help.

"Aura." Bucky shakes his head. "It's not usually contagious, but... Sorry if I passed it along."

"A what now...?"

Bucky steers Steve out of the bathroom. "That evidently wasn't as funny as I thought it was. I'm still working on it, the humor. Dark humor..."

"You're doing so much better," Steve forces out, letting his head flop onto Bucky's shoulder.

"Thanks..." Bucky shifts under Steve's weight. "I can carry your head. But you have to walk the rest of you up the stairs if you want bed and meds. I think you unlocked the cabinet with the benedryl, so I can get you all sleepy if you want. Best migraine treatment, in my opinion."

"But... Grant-thing? Trench toast? Um, coats?" Steve's losing his words, and he seems to be terrified.

"You'll remember how to talk tomorrow," Bucky coalesces. "If you don't I'll re-teach you."

They enter the dark bedroom, and Steve sighs audibly in relief. "Oh, no!" he moans.

"What?" Bucky looks prepared to run. "Throw up in the bathroom--"

"No, I didn't clean the sink..." Steve's forehead wrinkles. He appears genuinely about to cry.

"Ok," Bucky takes Steve's shoulder and massages gently as he advances Steve toward bed. "No more stairs. No cleaning. Only sleeping. Unless you want to listen to TV."

"British accents..."

Bucky turns down the quilt. "I can go with that."

Steve's exhaustion mixes with autopilot, and he gets into bed. He lies on his back and pushes his pillow between the crown of his head and the headboard, then slides Bucky's pillow on top of his face.

"Breathing. Right?" Bucky takes his pillow back, dropping it on the floor as he flips on the TV.

Steve does so, loudly, which drowns out the static of the television warming up.

Once the right channel is set, Bucky comes to lay his hand on Steve's ribcage, presumably to test for heartbeat and chest rise. "Keep your vitals stable while I get meds?"

Steve reaches silently for the pillow, which is still on the floor.

"Nah, don't trust you with that yet." Bucky smiles. "You get it when I'm back. And it doesn't go on your head. I get to put my head on it."

"That means you're coming to bed? Soon?"

"Yes. With meds," Bucky reminds him. "And we'll listen to British accents until you fall asleep. "Ok?"

"...my head hurts."

"I know. I'm sorry. I know it sucks."

Steve's silent for a moment. Bucky pads quietly into the bathroom. Steve thinks of saying something, just to keep himself some company in the semi-darkness. "A goddamn cookout..." he says, unable to stop the giggle that hangs on the end.

He hears Bucky laughing from the bathroom as well, the sound echoing back into the bedroom. Steve knows Bucky will be smiling as well. And that makes him feel a little better.

[no-goddamn-cilantro]

I got a bug, so I decided to write this ridiculous nonsense.

Adventures in Babysitting

The ship hummed softly as the power-down sequence began, and Rocket was quick to hop out of the pilot's chair and make his way back to the makeshift child seat Gamora insisted he use. Something-something safety, something-something, blah-blah-blah, whatever.* Groot's safety is and always will be number one, but it's insulting that she thinks a glorified bucket with a seat harness is going to do shit. Rolling his eyes to himself, he lifts the "baby carrier" by the handle and disembarks, wincing in the bright sunlight on Peter's home world.

He probably should have told Peter he was going to come, see if the guy had any family to visit. Ah well. Too late now, time to meet his old pal to drop off the kid before getting down to business.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dyn Jarren was, to put it mildly, exhausted. After Sporog, there had been nine other planets, either too hostile or where they were too easily found. Nine.* So he'd decided to... Branch out a bit. Hit the next Galaxy over- he had contacts there, a Mandalorian covert hiding away on the moon of some backwater planet called Terra where the locals had barely managed to intrude on the dead rock, let alone notice the comings and goings of the refugees on their own moon. One of these Terrans had even gained that most precious of commodities years ago, the Mandalorian's trust.

There were three shootouts, a target's gills getting infected with fishrot, and said Terran actually convincing the target to be encased in Carbonite willingly. It was a wild four days, but the man was trustworthy, never having breathed a word of what happened during his "spirituality retreat."

Landing in a tucked away copse of trees near his contact's current location, he hefts The Child into his arms, turning his head to shush him gently.

"None of that. It's faster if I carry you."

Without another word he disembarked down the gangplank and set off at a brisk pace, following the coordinates in his helmet's display.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Keanu was sitting in the sunny Northern California early afternoon, dozing off if he were to tell the truth, at the rather larger home than he really needed that had been rented for the next week. He wanted plenty of room for Rocket and his young ward to explore and relax though, so this was his best option. It was secluded, no neighbors for miles, with a dense forest to the back and miles of vineyards in lieu of the missing neighbors.

A coo only a few feet from him caused him to jerk fully awake suddenly, eyes opening to see a man he'd never expected to see again and- was that a child?

Standing, he greeted the unexpected guest from outer space with a pleased smile.

"Mando! Man, wow, it's been like- six years? How are you? And who's this little guy??" As he approached his face broke into a more intimate grin as he made eye contact with the tiny green child, delight lighting up his face as The Child gifted him with another coo.

The Mandalorian, for his part, gives a neutral hum that borders on pleased. "This is The Child. We're currently hiding from parties that want him dead- or worse. I was hoping we could lay low here for a while- is that alright with you?"

Keanu, for his part, is astounded at that story, but the only question that passes through his lips is, "Mando, have you not... Named your kid?"

Despite being able to see exactly none of the Mandalorian's face, he can practically feel* the other man's blush. "... It hasn't been important so far."

"Mando!"

"Keanu." Unexpected, deadpan snark from his friend, but he rolls with it. Abruptly, he remembers his manners and invites them hurriedly, offering food and beverages. Dyn declines both for himself, but soup for The Child if he has it. Keanu does and quickly begins heating some on the stove. While that's working, he tries to figure out how to tell the bounty hunter about his other, expected visitor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As it turns out, the Mandalorian wasn't terribly fussed about his having other guests, so long as they didn't try to harm either the man or the* child, though the Terran man was subjected to a hard stare he couldn't see but could definitely feel when he mentioned his other guests were "a little unusual-looking."

Rocket, true to form, didn't bother with knocking, though Keanu was openly relieved he used a door at all for entering the abode. The bipedal raccoon, on the other hand, was distinctly and obviously uncomfortable. With a blatantly false smile across his snout and speaking through his teeth, Rocket jerks his head a few times back towards the living room from the doorway of the kitchen where he'd abruptly halted.

"Hey, Neo, need to talk to you real quick. In here. Away from the bounty hunter."

The implacable stare of the helmet followed them out of the room and until they turned the corner, Rocket leading his friend halfway up the stairs leading to the bedrooms. Before Keanu can speak, Rocket is standing- somehow- on the railing and gripping the collar of his jacket, pulling him close to mutter threateningly in his face. "I don't know what that guy has told you, but I don't have any more bounties on my head. I went straight, we all went straight, we're doing good now. I won't let some Mandalorian asshole with out of date information skin me for credits, you got it?"

"I'm not here on a bounty."

Both man and raccoon in the stairwell jump, looking down at the Mandalorian standing with crossed arms. He continues, unperturbed by the blatant hostility of the raccoon that scampers down the stairs to stand eye to... Well, hip, until he takes advantage of the banister again. "I'm just laying low for a while. Needed a place to hide. Keanu mentioned you were coming." At the last sentence Rocket glares back at the man, before Mando dryly adds, "We were unexpected. You weren't."

Keanu decides that he needs a strong mug of tea.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So once helmet-head and his little goblin child are settled in the dining area, Rocket goes to collect Groot and his- bucket, no, carrier- from where he'd left him napping in the sun. He is completely unsurprised that his own little monster child has managed to escape the prison of the child seat and is frolicking in the yard after a butterfly or some shit. Rocket allows himself the barest moment of tender enjoyment of watching Groot just be happy, before he knuckles up and shouts across the open lawn.

"Hey Groot, come meet your babysitter! I don't got all day, hurry it up!" The tree person- is he a shrub right now? He's small enough to be a shrub- comes scampering across the yard, stopping in front of Rocket, crossing his arms, and indignantly huffing.

"I am Groot."

"Yes, you do. I can't leave you on the ship by yourself for a couple of days."

"I am Groot!"

"Because I'm the adult and you're not right now."

"I am Groot?"

"Keanu. Don't give me that look, that's his real name."

"I am Groot."

"Look who's talkin'! You think either of us have room to be critical of someone else's name?"

"... I am Groot..."

"That's what I thought. Now c'mon, he's waiting inside and he made you food, so be grateful."

He takes his ward's hand, leading him inside. More to himself than anything, he mutters, "But Keanu is a weird fuckin' name..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The second meeting with the children present goes much smoother than the first. They sit and share a meal- with the exception of Dyn Jarren, who answers endless questions about Mandalorians, his helmet, his weapons, and anything else Rocket can think of to annoy him with, with a remarkable amount of patience- if not without more of the snark Keanu witnessed earlier. The fathers then send their children to play, with stern warnings about not leaving the yard that are, the Terran is sure, going to be completely ignored. He has to grip Mando's sleeve to get him to sit and stay after some noises of play begin and the man slightly panics.

Rocket, for his part, decides to refuse to be this much of a worrywart over Groot upon observing the bounty hunter's near-palpable anxiety over his foundling.

Keanu decides to get into the practicalities of the next few days, asking what each child likes to eat, when they're supposed to sleep, and what discipline they're used to, ready to take notes.

Both Mandalorian and raccoon stare at him blankly after the first question. He tries again, starting with what he thought was the easiest question.

"what time do they generally go to sleep?"

"Uhhh, Groot just sorta passes out when he's tired. Usually about... 9ish? I guess?"

"Does he nap during the day?"

"How'm I supposed to know, I'm workin'! He just sleeps when he's tired."

"Mando?"

The bounty hunter's shoulders drop slightly in what might be classed as defeat. "He sleeps all the time in about two hour chunks, then he's up for about five." When the Terran blinks at him in what looks a lot like confusion, he sighs. "I've tried getting him to sleep longer, but unless he ends up using his abilities, it's just not happening."

Keanu nods in what appears to be deliberate lack of judgement, making notes on either side of his page. Rocket snatches the paper almost as soon as he's done with his bedtime notes, barking a laugh at the name given for The Child.

"Mando Jr.? Really, bounty hunter? You couldn't come up with anything better?"

"... I didn't come up with it."

"So what's his real name?"

"... It's not important. That'll do for now."

And so the conversation went, discipline being a similarly baffling subject for both of them. When it came to food though, they found surprising common ground.

""Frogs.""

Keanu made a continue gesture after they both looked at each other in surprise, before Rocket jocularly punched Dyn on the shoulder. Dyn, for his part, just seemed exhausted. Keanu could relate.

"Soup. Small bits of meat... Mushrooms. Insects if he can catch them."

"Groot'll eat anything, kid's a trash compactor. We done here?"

Keanu is more than happy to finish out the conversation there, releasing them to go check in on their kids before headed out. Sometime in the last few hours, Rocket had decided a Mandalorian was pretty good backup for what he was doing and asked if Dyn would like to come along. The bounty hunter had sighed heavily before nodding his agreement.

Which brought them back around to the sitter conversation that now had Keanu reaching for the tea kettle again.

It was going to be a long three days.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Keanu, for his part, was pleased to discover Groot had no problems retreating to his and Rocket's room at 9pm for bed. The Yiddling, as was the name that seemed to stick for the sitter, was another story.

He whined, he grizzled, he even squealed a time or two. The Terran just kept calmly holding the kid and bouncing gently, singing half-remembered lullabies to the child as it slowly, eventually, tired itself out. Keanu very gently lowered the child into the crib he'd acquired from the bounty hunter's ship before they left, taking the three steps back to his bed to collapse backwards into the sheets and blissfully drop off after hours of soothing a fussy toddler who could move things with his mind.

For two hours. Then the crying began again.

It was a long night for everybody, and the sitter was more than happy to go start the coffee pot just as the first fingers of sunlight began to creep over the treetops behind the house. By the time he had breakfast prepared for the two children under his care, the kitchen was bathed in golden morning sunlight. The two ate well, then his little tree-like charge turned to him with a stubborn tilt to his head.

"I am Groot."

"A nature walk? Why?"

"I am Groot!"

"I somehow really doubt the forests of Earth are your ancestral home."

"I am Groot!"

"... You know what, an excellent point. You two can find all the frogs you like and I won't have to attempt to catch any for you. We'll go in a little bit, okay? I need to pack you both lunches in case we're out for a while, and I need to put together that thing."

"That thing" was, in fact, a jogging stroller for doubles. A quick overnight delivery after the arrival of not one, but two children in his care necessitated it, and it had arrived promptly at 8am. He cleaned up after his little charges, helped them both wash their hands in the sink, and then sent them to play for a while as he carefully read the instructions for assembly.

One hour, two bandages, and a hurried, "don't repeat that!" tossed in a nosey Groot's direction after some overheard profanity, and the babysitter had the stroller ready. He packed two quick lunches based on the Yiddling's preferences- as his was the more specified, and Groot really would eat anything, including the plate- and got them all out the door, a bag of essentials that he resolutely would not call a diaper bag tucked into the very-convenient compartment beneath the seats of the stroller and took them down the path that had a trail head right there in the backyard. Keanu decided Groot really did have an excellent idea with this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two hours later Keanu was smugly pleased with both the nature walk and the double stroller. Both kids were passed out asleep in their stroller seats, snoring gently with the remains of their lunches clasped gently in sticky fingers- twigs? Claws? Fingers was just easier for Keanu's exhausted but triumphant brain- and resting lightly in their laps. He was now taking a leisurely stroll back to the house, enjoying the peace as much as communing with nature.

And so that's how the three spent the next several sleep-deprived days. Breakfast, stroller, wander through nature (one extremely disturbing frog-hunting hour around a pond that he's never mentioning to another living soul except for maybe their parents) lunch and afternoon naps, playing tag and other such games in the yard, dinner, and then a fraught bedtime with the little Yiddling.

When their parents returned, Rocket was nearly bowled over by an excited Groot, being squeezed happily by suddenly very long toddler tree arms. The Mandalorian was passed The Child by a tired but very happy Keanu, who reported to both parents that they were good kids and behaved. Mando was surprised in equal measure by both the Yiddling- he was keeping that name for him, thank-you Keanu- falling asleep in his arms immediately, and the sitter in question's flabbergasted stare that soon melted into a soft, gentle smile.

As they each departed for their ships after what was decidedly a warmer and noisier splash than The Mandalorian had wanted to make on this planet, they were both secretly pleased at just how comfortable their children had been with the Terran, and at how well they'd been able to work together.

Perhaps they'd have to do this again sometime.