#or at least something that sounds a little crunchier

[cape-wearing-enigma]

people love to declare a queer musician to be like. quintessential gay people music that’s absolutely life changing and so good and so important with incredible masterful lyricism and then you listen to the artist and their music sounds bad. sometimes the musician doesn’t even have to be queer!

[tricornonthecob]

y'all wanna make dis gingeebread with me

The resippy is for gingerbread house gingerbread from Food Network but I have notes so read below the cut.

https://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/gingerbread-house-recipe-1963254

I doubled everything, so my ingredient list is:

2 sticks butter room temp (I used unsalted because that's what you're supposed to use when you bake but now I see it isn't specified. Use salted butter at your own risk.)

1 cup dark brown sugar. Don't use light brown, you coward.

1/2 cup molasses. Fuck off with that corn syrup shit, Karo-en

2 tbsp ground cinnamon

2 tbsp ground ginger

3 tsp ground clove

2 tsp baking soda

4 cups flour

4 tbsp water.

but just halve that or use the OG amounts if you don't want to make a metric fuckton of dough.

How mix:

beat/cream together everything except for the flour and water.

Blend in the flour and water.

WHAT THEY DON'T SAY is that I think you should be gradually adding in the water while mixing the flour and flavor goo together because otherwise you get baby biscuits in your mix like I did, and then you gotta mix forever to get the bastards to mix.

Start the mixer slow at first so the flour doesn't get everywhere, but when it starts really sticking together good you gotta run them pretty quick so it doesn't gum up the beaters.

Did I say you gotta mix forever? I meant to say you gotta mix forever-ever.

Forever-ever?

Forever-ever.

The mixture should stick together well and be pretty dark.

Gonna interrupt here with notes because after mixing I scoffed at how tame it tasted:

I added a short pour of molasses. It was probably something like 1/4 cup, but I just let the spirits of my Britishy ancestors yell at me in very heavy 17th century London dialect.

(I don't know how this will affect the baking but we'll find out! My bet is on it getting crunchier and not quite as structurally sound as if I had let well enough alone!)

I also added EXTRA ginger (muchly extra, a goodly amount,) cinnamon, cloves, and made a slight addition of allspice (similar notes as nutmeg) and a little bit of black pepper for heat.

I added the spices a bit at a time and would beat them in, then taste the result. I did not measure - again I let the spirit of my Britishy ancestors yell at me about it. I thought about letting the French and Québecois ancestors have a go but they were being really passive-aggressive about the whole thing.

Don't be a coward about the fucking spices, this is fucking gingerbread it should taste like ginger and heat and medieval court intrigue and like you're trying to impress a Duke or a Viscount or whatever.

If you are a coward about the spices, you will disappoint your ancestors, whoever they may be.

I mean, unless you got a good reason to go light on it. Really at this point its flavor to your taste because the base is probably decent enough but I'm going to be a Karen about this.

Oh yeah but be careful with the black pepper, that's really the only one you don't want to be cavalier about. I just added it by shaking a shaker a few times.

Mixing is done! Now to chilling!

make a lump with the dough

split lump in two

wrap each lump with plastic wrap or similar, gently press into disks

Put in fridge and chill until firm (they say at least 30 mins.)

This is where I am right now I will update on how everything goes when I roll out and cut out. Presumably, I roll, cut out shapes, and bake at 375.

[amor-immortalem]

Can I Stay Up Here With You Forever ch. 3

Previous

Warnings: Implied sex

“So, what were ya gonna make for dinner?”

“Stir fry... unless you’d rather have something different,” Her green eyes peer at Mammon over the other side of the refrigerator door. “I don’t mind if you want something different. We can always have it tomorrow.”

“No that’s fine,” The demon nods. “Ya want me to help?”

“Sure,” Arella started placing the ingredients on the counter. “You can start by slicing up the mushrooms, the peppers and the scallions.” She started to get out the pans she’d need before going to wash her hands. “I’ll start with the meat.”

He nodded as he washed his hands and began with the task given to him.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So how did you enjoy it?” The pair were cleaning up after their meal.

“It was good. I think I didn’t cut the peppers thin enough though,” The demon answers as he dries up one of pans that were used.

“They were still good though,” Arella shut the water off and drained the sink. “They weren’t undercooked so it all turned out fine.”

“Coulda been crunchier though... Either way, ‘snot like it was bad...” Mammon started putting away the dry dishes into their proper places.

“Yeah, you’re not wrong there. I probably could have fried all the veggies a little longer, but this is the first time I’ve ever made stir fry on my own so I didn’t want to burn them. Anyway, you want to watch a movie after this?”

“Sure, although...” The demon trailed off, “Never mind. A movie is perfect.”

“Was there something else you wanted to do instead?”

“Yeah, a little...”

“What did you want to do then?” She moves to cage him against the counter, her hands placed over his. “I think we’re far past the point of you being shy about what you really want, baby boy...”

“I...” the demon closes his eyes and inhales as she presses against him just right almost as if she was trying to tease him, “Don’t tease.” Mammon pushes the smaller human back against the island behind her, looming over her.

“Is that what I’m doing?” She asks playfully, winding her arms around his neck. “I couldn’t tell... What are you going to do to me if I don’t?” The human bites her lip at the growl he lets out, hooking a leg around his hips to pull him closer while she continued to tease him with quick, soft touches over his body. He’s so easy to rile up.

The Avatar of Greed’s response is only a rush of hungry kisses that leave his human breathless by time he pulls away. They stare into each other’s eyes as they catch their breath for a short while before Arella pulls him toward the bedroom.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She scrolled through her human world social media the next morning as she ran a hand through her boyfriend’s hair while he slept with his head on her chest. He’d probably be out for another hour or two at least, but Arella was more than content to just lay here and snuggle. She flipped through both local news and news from England after she’d caught up on all her socials, receiving a text from her childhood friend, Aubrie.

Aubrie: Reeeeeeeeelllllllssssss

Aubrie: How’s REDACTED?

Arella: REDACTED? Lmao

Arella: Aubrie you make it sound like my address is the location of one of those SCP files you love to read about online.

Aubrie: Well you won’t tell me where you moved to so...

Aubrie: Anywho

Aubrie: how was the move? Is your new house set up yet? Can I come visit you at some point? When are you going back to the Devildom?

Arella: The move went fine and yeah, if youre that dead set on visiting then fine you can come under the condition that the address doesn’t get back to Lucifer in anyway shape or form.

Arella: And I don’t know when or if I’m even going back at this point

Aubrie: Why can’t I tell Lucifer? Did you do something the last time you were down there?

Arella: No, nothing of the sort

Arella: Its just... I told you about how Lucifer and his brothers treat Mammon right? Like he’s the scum of the devildom and they’re always degrading him or accusing him of things he didn’t do with no proof. How Lucifer gives him punishments that sometimes aren’t deserved

Aubrie: Yeah but I thought you’d had a talk with his brothers about that?

Arella: I did but after a month everything reverted back to how it used to be...

Arella: to make matters worse Mammon ended up breaking his elbow after he and Lucifer got into scuffle over a bloody credit card bill yesterday.

Aubrie: wut

Aubrie: Is he alright?

Arella: He’s fine now.

Arella: Solomon was able to heal his arm and then I summoned him up here with me. Honestly the way he talks sometimes he sounds like a dv victim whose too afraid to leave his abusers. Either that or he’s apologizing it away and I can’t stand seeing him like that.

Arella: So I hope that without his brothers around, he’ll be able to decide if he’s truly happy with them or not. I know he loves them more than anything but... idk you can love someone without sacrificing your own happiness you know? And when his brothers talk to or treat him the way they do, he just looks so hurt after.

Aubrie: Yeah I understand. I hope you guys get that all sorted out then. I’ll talk to you later. I have start getting ready for work.

Aubrie: Bye Rells

Arella: good bye Aubrie.

Arella set her phone on the nightstand as the demon resting on her chest began to stir.

“Well, good morning, Sleepyhead. How did you sleep last night?” The human chuckles as Mammon on buries his face into her chest.

“I slept pretty good- better than I have in the last few days. Thanks.” He reply was only slightly muffled before sitting up and stretching. “What about you?”

“I slept great. You certainly did enough to tire me out last night.”

“Who were ya texting?”

“It was just Aubrie. Sorry, did the sound of the vibrations wake you?” She sits up as he shakes his head.

“No I was just waking up while you started texting. I just wanted to lay there a bit longer... I’m hungry, you want breakfast?”

“Yeah, breakfast sounds great,” She moves to grab his shirt from last night off the floor but the soreness in her thighs and hips stop her as she lets out a soft groan.

“I can make it don’t worry. Just stay in bed and rest for now. Yer gonna have to settle for eggs though...”

“Eggs are perfect, Dear.” Arella sighs as she flops over onto her side and Mammon kisses her cheek.

He climbs off the bed and slips on his boxers from the previous night. He’d have time to get his suitcase from the front room and put the clothes away later, but now is time for food.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Next

Find more on my masterlist

[feelingofcontent]

DNP Rewatch: I SMASHED 3 MIRRORS

Date video was published: 12/09/2014 (X)

DNP Main Channel Rewatch: 253

The last casual-Phil-update video and last solo Phil video of 2014.

0:00 - Phil’s first video of December every year always mentions festive-times

0:09 - spoiler alert...he will not. There will only be one more video on his channel in 2014 and very little of it will be shot in that bedroom.

0:18 - I like that t-shirt

0:28 - Phil tweeted about all the things he bought himself - Super Smash Brothers, the coat, and galaxy pants (underwear), lol

0:34 - the space coat! So shiny. Phil really does like shiny clothes.

0:51 - I laugh every time he mocks or mimics Kath and then has to apologize because he knows she’ll watch this, lol

1:02 - oh Phil. That is new levels of clumsy.

1:07 - “we had some good times together” I do not want to know what that means. 😳

1:18 - sneezing so hard you break something...wow. (Phil had another near miss doing that later on.)

1:20 - you can see the box he shows later at the end of his bed too. He’s very carefully watching the screen for what you can see in the reflection.

1:27 - well that one’s not really his fault at least

1:32 - the clumsiness is real 😂

1:52 - Phil is so pretty in this video.

2:08 - that’s an intense way to dispose of a mirror

2:19 - Duncan and Mimei mention! And another mention of wanting to go to Japan. Soon, Phil!

2:35 - Japan snack-packaging is always so bright and busy. I love it.

2:42 - holding the cup with his pointer finger sticking out as usual

2:52 - did we need the mouth-sounds editing repeat

3:13 - he looks so disturbed.

3:18 - that was crunchier than expected

3:33 - unexpected fish-taste might be one of the worst unexpected tastes

3:44 - this Furby will join his other one in the background on the windowsill!

3:59 - the “sexy” background music...why.

4:31 - I can’t believe after Phil was so addicted that it took them 2 years to play it on DAPG

4:55 - wow, throwback to when Phil used to do abrupt horror-movie/disaster video endings!

A lot crammed into this video! I like seeing where the blue Furby came from because it shows up in a lot of future videos.

[sami-at-ciela]

Prompt 1: Foster

Or: “Cute Moments with Someone Else’s Kid.”

This is a piece for FFXIVwrite’s first prompt! I knew I wanted to do something cute with Miqo Dad and his daughter, plus show the dynamics between people at the Haven. It’s smaller and crunchier than I’d like but for now, that’s okay. =w= Here we go!

They really weren’t kidding when they said it took a village to raise a child.

T’melva did his best to stay around Vera whenever he could, but duty called, and when it did, his daughter would be left in the hands of his variously capable housemates. Today, he let Rhea know he had an assignment to handle, and she agreed to stay at the Haven for a time to look after Vera. Still, Rhea wasn’t alone; the motley crew of the Haven was always willing to lend a hand where they could, regardless of whether T’melva wanted them to.

“Vera, do you want to learn how to sew?” Rhea asked, one Viera bunny ear twitching at a sound in the distance. She was working on something round and plush.

Vera stared at Rhea’s project for a good second. “Can I watch you first?”

“Of course!” Rhea opened her hands to reveal a round-bodied plushie with stubby limbs. “These are the little dolls I’ve been making for people. I call them… puffskis! Because they’re round and puffy.”

“Can I touch it?” Vera asked. When Rhea nodded, she stroked the fuzzy fabric. “It’s really soft!”

“As it should be! These puffskis are for people to squeeze when they need a squeeze buddy.” She offered the puffski plush to Vera, revealing that one arm wasn’t completely sewn on. “Do you want to squeeze him?”

Vera shot the plush an oddly critical look for a 6-year-old. “Maybe when his arm is on.”

Rhea nodded. “That makes sense.”

Before the two could proceed, another housemate entered the scene: Beau, the house’s other Viera (that was there consistently). “Rhea, do you have a moment?” His attention shifted when he noticed the Miqo’te child next to her. “Oh, hello, Vera.”

Vera waved at Beau, then stared at him for a moment. “Beau, can you sit next to me?”

Rhea nodded to Beau, then looked to Vera, puzzled. “What are you planning, young lady?”

“Um… sure? I guess it might be easier to show Rhea what I need to over there.” Beau, shy as he was, obliged the request and took a seat next to Vera before digging around in his pocket. Before he could get too far, though, Vera had arranged herself to rest her head on his stomach. “I… did you call me over just to use me as a pillow?”

Vera gave a thoughtful hum. “Your tummy is nice and soft. Are you a puffski, Beau?”

Beau went blank, completely unsure of how to respond.

Rhea giggled and saved him the trouble. “No, Beau is a Viera, just like me. He’s just a fluffy soft one. But he would make a good puffski, wouldn’t he?”

“Puffski? You mean those dolls you've been making…?”

The sound of keys turning in the Haven door and someone entering grabbed all three of their attentions. A bespectacled Miqo’te with familiar features entered, and Vera’s ears perked up. “Hi, Daddy!”

T’melva looked at the trio on the couch and chuckled. “Well! If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was looking at a perfect little family portrait.”

Rhea grinned as Beau gave a sheepish smile and rubbed the back of his head. “Y-you flatter me,” he stammered.

Vera finally got up and scuttled over to her father, hugging him tightly. As she did, T’melva nodded at Beau. “I really do think you two would make good parents someday, as much as neither of you would like to admit it.”

“Please. I can barely take care of myself, let alone a child,” Beau muttered, watching the Miqo’te girl and her father.

“That’s a load of crap, Beau,” Rhea cut in. “I’ve seen you with Vera. You watch over her really well while you’re researching, and you even let her read your books and ask you questions.”

“Beau taught me what ‘aetherochemical waste’ was!” Vera chirped.

“Come again?” T’melva tilted his head before patting Vera on hers. “She’s such a bright child. I think I have you two and the others to thank for fostering her interests in all kinds of things.”

“She is growing up around interesting people,” Rhea said with a nod. “I’m glad she’s learning things.”

Beau was turning pink, and he continued to rub the back of his head. “Um, Rhea, I think we can discuss what I had in mind later.” He stood up, waved goodbye to everyone present, and briskly scampered out of the room.

T’melva sighed. “That poor boy. He ought to know that he can be more confident in himself.”

“Well, you know his family life wasn’t exactly easy growing up,” Rhea said as she looked off in the direction that Beau left in.

“Mm-hm. I suppose it might be too late or too awkward for me to attempt to ‘father’ him, but I wish I could… or at least I wish I could help him see himself as others see him.” T’melva’s gaze grew distant for a moment before refocusing on Vera. “I ought to clean up a bit. See you for dinner, then? Or sooner.”

Rhea nodded, and the father and daughter duo made their exit.

[just-patchy]

20th December: Konoha | Birthday Interview 🦉

Part 1

Happy Birthday, Konoha!

🦉: Ah, thank you very much. I didn’t realise Prefect was here too.

How do you feel about the celebrations?

🦉: It’s quite rowdy, especially since we’re going to have birthday celebrations for the next few days.

🦉: The decorations are probably going to be up still for the next 2 days, and the amount of cake will probably make Vil horrified.

🦉: I do appreciate my cute juniors bringing me gifts. They’re very kind.

🦉: There’s also Dorm Head’s birthday tomorrow, so I don’t want to overshadow his, no matter how unlikely it is.

Did you receive any presents?

🦉: Aside from general items and whatnot, I suppose the biggest present would be the dorm being rowdy but in a good way.

🦉: If you haven’t noticed, our dorm is full of, ah, problem children, so to not have to worry after the mental health of my dorm members is a nice thing.

🦉: I still can’t help but worry though.

That sounds tough...any thoughts regarding the birthday suit?

🦉: It’s pretty...flashy. I don’t exactly mind, but the placement of the sash bothers my wings a little bit.

🦉: It’s impossible to position them in a way that doesn’t bother my wings or provide some sort of inconvenience to me.

🦉: It’s pretty annoying, to be honest.

———

Part 2

You seem to care a lot for your dormmates!

🦉: Yes, they are my family.

🦉: My blood family are nice, but we’re rather solitary so we don’t really gather. I’m pretty much living alone right now.

🦉: I think I have a few siblings but I don’t really remember how they look.

🦉: Plus, our dorm has a lot of struggles emotionally, so I’d like to do something for them.

🦉: So far I’ve mainly been listening to people and offering cuddles if they want, but it’s not working out quite well...

Cuddles?

🦉: I personally like them. Physical contact is always nice to have.

🦉: If you’re wondering about my talons, I usually keep them away to the best of my ability.

🦉: Otherwise I might use improvised fluffy socks. I say socks but they’re more like general covers for my talons

🦉: It does sound rather strange, but it works.

I see...well, moving onto the next topic, what’s your favourite food?

🦉: Meat and berries. I don’t really have a preference for what type of meat.

🦉: I can’t say I’m fond of pears though, at least not the ones that are softer in texture.

🦉: Those tend to feel more mushier, so crunchier ones taste better to me.

———

Part 3

How do you feel about your dormmates?

🦉: A generalisation would be emotionally constipated.

🦉: Dorm Head is quite strict, but he’s trying his best.

🦉: Vidar seems rather cool, but he has a surprisingly cute side to him. It’s rather fun.

🦉: Runar is...well, no one really knows what’s going inside his head.

🦉: Emil is one of the surprisingly non-problematic kids so good luck in that aspect..?

🦉: Freyr...he’s trying his best, but I wish he could have more confidence in himself and people around him, I suppose.

🦉: I’d like to be closer to Noelle, but I’m not quite sure. He dislikes people in general...he’s rather adorable though, I’d like to cuddle him if I could

🦉: Same goes for Vergil I guess? Glacirem’s a family of sorts, but if he feels comfortable with the distance then I can’t complain about that

🦉: Kayden is relatively unproblematic but he needs to calm down sometimes.

🦉: Eirlys has pretty much the same role as I do in the dorm, so I’m grateful for the help.

🦉: There are a few others, but I’m not that close to them yet so I can’t comment on them

Thank you for doing this interview!

🦉: No problem...ah, but maybe the dorm members part was a bit TMI

[End illust: A peaceful and happy-looking Konoha eating his birthday cake, looking absolutely soft.]

[kinglykook]

eat deliciously

word count: 800 words (tis a smol one) 

genre: fluff 

pairing: vampire!yoongi x human jeongguk 

beep. beep. beep.

“mmm... jeongguk?” yoongi’s hand stretched out to ghost over his boyfriend’s side of the bed, fingers slipping over sheets where his figure should be. he heard more beeping and clattering, and a cuss word or two coming from the kitchen just around the corner. the tiny bachelor flat offered at least that. a wall.

he pushed himself up onto the pillows, fluffing his bangs away from his eyes. his vision adjusted to the darkness instantly, each shadowy mound coming into focus. but his boyfriend, puttering around in the kitchen, probably didn’t bother to turn on a light again. yoongi told him time and time again that artificial light didn’t bother him, but jeongguk told him he wanted to get used to the darkness just like yoongi. 

“you’ll kill yourself one day, you know.” yoongi grumbled as he got up, stretching long pale limbs, shaking his head of black hair. “you can turn the light on, jeongguk, you know it doesn’t work like that-” he placed a hand against the wall as he turned the corner, eyes instantly finding the source of the chaos in the dimly lit kitchen. his boyfriend, bent over a rice cooker, a huge bag of rice in hands, and teeth tugging on the corner of the plastic. 

jeongguk blinked at him, teeth still bared. yoongi glanced at the rest of the kitchen. utensils, bowls, unidentifiable blobs of red goop trailing to a container of kimchi. he looked back at jeongguk once he started tugging on the rice bag with his teeth again, growling at it.

“you need help with that?” 

“i guess you’d be better equipped to do this, huh.” jeongguk responded dryly as he handed the bag over to him. probably expecting him to whip out his fangs, yoongi simply flipped the bag over and tore through the perforated corner of the bag, then flipped it over once more and poured some of it into the rice cooker.

“now you want to tell me what you’re doing in the middle of the night?” 

well, ‘night’. it was actually around 2pm, but the blackout curtains yoongi had installed kept out any sneaky sunlight, bathing the entire apartment in darkness. like a possum. which jeongguk teased him about often. 

“wait, why am i a possum?”

“you’re small, you play dead. you’re nocturnal. scream.”

“i scream?”

“remember when we rented that zombie movie? you put your fists up during one of the jump scares and nearly took my eye out.” 

 “do possums scream?”

jeongguk leaned over and pressed a kiss to yoongi’s neck. “mine does.”

yoongi’s lifestyle turned day to night, and night to day. jeongguk, ever the supportive live-boyfriend, tried to adopt this routine. for the most part, he’d gotten pretty good at it; he worked nights at a gym a couple of times a week, and slept the days away with yoongi. but jeongguk was still just a human, and yoongi always told him he should see his friends more. he couldn’t expect him to give up his entire life for him forever. at least... not yet. 

“if you’re just making the rice now, what was the beeping?”

“i... set off the smoke detector.”

“how on earth-” 

“shh!” jeongguk whirled around and picked up a cookie from a stack on a plate behind him. they were slightly burnt, but they smelled good. he happily took a bite, though it sounded crunchier than a cookie was meant to. he grimaced, but popped the rest of it into his mouth. his hungry little human. 

“you don’t eat human food, so i have to eat deliciously so my blood is delicious. i got hungry, and i wanted to eat something to get my blood sugar up so if you wanted blood when you woke up...” 

yoongi snorted, then lifted his hand to flick the light switch on. though yoongi’s eyes could see in the darkness, the light bathed his boyfriend in vibrancy. his bright red gym shirt that he slept in, his light grey sweatpants hugging his thick thighs. the glint of his earrings that he hadn’t bothered to take out to sleep, and the long crown of hair that framed his pretty face. jeongguk already looked flushed with life, his hot blood swimming just beneath his golden skin. 

but yoongi’s heart clenched just for the love of him, not his blood. he stuck his arms out like a petulant child, wherein jeongguk immediately slotted himself, and leaned down to press a kiss against yoongi’s lips.

“you’re always delicious.” yoongi mumbled. a course of boldness struck through him, his fangs peeking out from beneath his pink mouth. the very tip of his canine grazed over jeongguk’s lips, breaking the skin ever so gently. he heard jeongguk inhale sharply. yoongi immediately licked tiny speck of blood that beaded there. 

“hurry up and eat. i’m suddenly starving.”  

[evening-rose-309]

If The First Approves...

A very LATE HOW FUCKING DARE I gift to @grimalkinmessor. Happy birthday hun, hope this is dark enough for you (even though it's written through the perspective of a giant water noodle) and that you have a wonderful day.

i just keep spoiling my own fics for people don't i

-----

Jörmungandr floated amongst the cliffs in mild displeasure. Not much was on his lonely mind other than hunger and the boredom he often felt within his watery home. The rocks were silent, devoid of even the little birds he liked to watch, and sky above the same gloomy gray fading into dark. Starless, sunless, always cloudy, never raining. The island was a sombre thing really, but he'd been tasked to guard it and guard he shall.

Sinking into the sea again, he snapped his jaws at a solitary high-rock, just to see what would happen. He watched from beneath the surface veil its falling into the sea. Not very amusing really, he'd rather toy with a ship hull than fiddle with the rocks.

He'd sunk a ship yesterday, a fairly large one too, though, disappointingly, no others came after it. It had brought him some joy, somewhat, from watching the humans flail around, catapulting themselves into the water when he tore open the steel belly. He snacked off them, plucking them one by one as their ship sank. They weren't much of a meal to him, humans. Not anymore. They had when he was young and Vati still came to him often. Vati didn't seem to like them either, so he gave Jor the scraps of his meals. From Vati's hands they were quite good. Crunchy. Now though, he was left to pick off soft worms who had a habit of throwing metal sticks at him. They didn't do much, though occasionally they'd get between his scales and he'd have to pry them out. That, too, he liked more when Vati did it and not himself.

He'd hauled that ship back to shore afterwards. Most he let sink into the depths, though this one, he felt, should be different. It was large, had an interesting shape, and, somehow had fixed itself as he was carting it back. He'd propped it up on the beach in the hope Vati would see it. He'd hoped they could play with it together or at least that it would make Vati proud.

Vati never came and the ship had disappeared by the time he came back from his rounds.

Distantly the waves crashed as Jor lazily slithered through the abysmal veil. The sky had gone darker above him. He'd hope for the stars still. Vati had liked those too, those dots of light dancing above them. The least Jor could say was that they made his night rounds more bearable.

As he tolled closer to the shoreline, a familiar clanging sound reached his ears, the vibrations of it rattling against his scales through the water. He groaned. The sound was familiar, though he never recalled it being like this. Normally it was he who rang the Bell, he who summoned Vati or Oma, not the other way around. Curiosity piqued, he coiled and swam through the water with newly revived vigor.

Once at shore, he lifted his great and tapered head from the veil only to find himself cocking it in confusion. There, bobbing quietly on the water, was the ship he'd lost last night. It was well and truly fixed now, sitting there and floating along like those birds did from time to time, not minding his presence. Jor swam closer and an alluring smell wafted to his nose. The smell of something burnt, yet it made his mouth water though he'd already eaten some time ago. He rose his head higher as he met it, and in that moment, finding himself understanding but at the same time questioning what was greeting him.

There on the deck of the thing was a rather familiar human shape. Not Vati's no, Vati's hair wasn't red, nor Oma, who wore long frilly robes that this figure did not. He recognized it though, the hair. He'd seen it once before not several moons ago, on the day Vati had brought him Shen's remains to lay at rest on the sea floor. This figure had come not long after, panting after Vati, and Vati had embraced them in a way Jor had never seen him do prior. He'd forgotten the human's name though. Vati had told him. How blasphemous of him to forget.

The figure looked up at him then, face contorting into what Jor knew was a smile. What a strange creature. Most humans never smiled at Jor, aside from Oma. Jor stayed where he was and let out a curious rumble. The figure only beckoned its hand.

"Come closer," it said, "Come closer". Jor found himself amused. So it could speak his speak could it? Jor was only mildly surprised. Aside from the scent of burnt things the figure had Vati's scent all over it, as well as the familiar musk of his brothers. It smelled like a myriad of things really, strange things foreign to Jor, though the scent of his family never could be. He decided to humor the small thing and lower himself closer to the ship's edge.

Close enough to touch the ship's railing, it was then that Jor saw the figure raise a miniscule stick in his hand. Miniscule to Jor at least, the thing was longer than the figure's hand. Jor was not alarmed. Vati and Oma had sticks as well, though only Oma seemed to ever use her's. The smell grew stronger then and Jor's mouth watered with it. He rumbled again and the figure's smile widened.

Then, out of the depths of the ship, something floated up and towards his nose. Jor cocked his head. It looked somewhat familiar and entirely delicious. Upon closer inspection though, he realized what it was and opened his mouth.

Could it be anything like Vati's? he thought, snatching it through the air and catching it in his maw. The answer was yes, it was. Crunchier, tastier, yet still the same somehow. Jor crooned. He rolled the charred corpse on his tongue before swallowing. Satisfied yet unsated, he groaned at the figure in earnest. He wanted more.

The strange figure simply laughed, a sound Jor cocked his head at, but nonetheless provided his need. One after the other, black bodies were offered to him and he savored and gored each and every one. He hadn't been hungry and these technically wouldn't be enough to constitute for an actual meal anyway, but he delighted in them all the same.

When no more bodies were offered, he groaned but it was a pleased sound. He'd enjoyed them while they'd lasted and found them quite tasty. He lowered his head to the figure slowly, lazily blinking his eyes in satisfaction. He had to give thanks after all. Manners, as Vati once chided him, manners were everything even if he wasn't human.

The figure stepped forward as his chin rested on the railing. Jor felt a warm hand on his nose, scratching it slightly, and purred in delight.

He'd later come to associate the figure with the burnt corpses and learned his name was Newt. Newt would come quite often to the island, bringing with him the delicious snack Jor had grown to covet. He would also bring along a few strange creatures with him, once Jor would never dare touch or feast on simply because Newt told him not to. When time would come for that strange carriage to land out of the sky, out coming foreign faces that had Azriel bristling and the twins growling something fierce, it would be Jor who would stop their charge and nudge his brothers away, for Newt had stood between them, which meant they were not to be bothered. Newt had, to Jor's observation, become Vati's mate and thus it was only Jor's place to respect him.

Jor would never know that it was he himself that was the catalyst for his Vati's proposal to Newt. That that night Newt had returned to Nurmengard, and his Vati had knelt before him in the snow and had given him a ring in the shape of a coiling serpent with a stone the color of Jor's eyes. He would never know that his favorite snacks had once been the poachers Newt had hunted himself, as well the ministry whores who had scorned his brothers so.

All Jörmungandr knew was that Newt was now part of the family, and as the first son, it was his duty to aid Newt's every whim as Vati's mate. An eternal, permanent member of The Grindelwald House.

[izaswritings]

Title: fireside reverie

Synopsis: This soul has not passed him by, and Hyakkimaru cannot help but wonder. Or: Hyakkimaru’s perspective on that fireside fish dinner.

AO3 Link is here!

-

The soul is doing something again.

Bemused, and a little interested despite himself, Hyakkimaru stands at the sidelines and watches the white fire flicker, trying to puzzle out what each movement means. The soul is always doing something, from what Hyakkimaru has seen—a being in constant motion, always moving, always jumping about. They follow at his heels and then jump ahead only to fall back, as if staying still and settled is a concept they have never considered.

He hasn’t known them long, all things considered. Hyakkimaru met this soul barely even a day ago, by that colorless place he thinks was a river, when he fought yet another demon. Since then, the soul has stuck by his side, lingering long enough that Hyakkimaru is starting to have doubts. He’s spent the whole day waiting for the soul to move on and away, but even now—the soul isn’t leaving.

Instead, the soul is doing something—this soul is always doing something, from what Hyakkimaru can tell. Keeping Hyakkimaru from eating, shoving him back from the water, fussing with things on the ground… and now, apparently, taking issue with—something. Maybe the fish?

Maybe it’s because Hyakkimaru was going to eat the fish raw. Jukai had always found that a little exasperating too—but it’s not like Hyakkimaru can taste it either way, and despite missing more than half his body, he’s never gotten ill the way Jukai claimed he would. The demons left Hyakkimaru with no limbs, but he apparently still has a good immune system— so why shouldn’t Hyakkimaru eat his fish raw? Honestly.

He wishes he could tell that to the soul, somehow, but it’d be too much to write out and he’s not sure how to explain it, anyway. Plus, this is—interesting. The soul, in general, is very interesting. Hyakkimaru has no idea what the soul is doing—he rarely does, when half the world consists of dead things and as such shows no color at all—but it’s fun, sometimes, to try and puzzle it out. Like now, for instance: the soul, crouched on the ground, messing with something that gives off a faint green glow, likely from the trees; the soul rocking back and forth as if blowing; the green color fading and corroding in his ‘vision,’ as if it’s withering away…

…Oh. A fire? It must be.

The soul jumps up once the flames get going—the green of the twigs is near-invisible now—and Hyakkimaru allows himself to be maneuvered down to sit on a log, watching carefully as the white soul jumps back to the fire. And it must be a fire—he’s taken Hyakkimaru’s fish and speared them with green, probably to cook.

Hyakkimaru rests his prosthetics on his knees and tilts his head down, trying to focus. He has his skin back now, and while that’s nice and all, he still thinks he might be missing something. Fire is hot, isn’t it? Jukai always told him so. And yet, no matter how hard Hyakkimaru tries, he still can’t feel a thing.

He’s not surprised, not really. It figures that even in this, the world won’t give Hyakkimaru a damn thing unless he takes it, even if that ‘thing’ in question is a just a basic sense of heat and pain. It’s one of those things Jukai was surprised about, that they figured out by accident, from that time Hyakkimaru was five and touched a fire bare-handed—and apparently burned off half his hair down to his scalp. It’s all in the things Jukai doesn’t say, sometimes— didn’t that hurt? written out in the dust, telling Hyakkimaru of yet another piece of himself that the demons have taken.

Pain, from what Hyakkimaru’s heard, doesn’t sound fun at all. But he’s interested in the rest of it. Pressure, a sense of pressure—he has that, at least. He wouldn’t be able to fight without it. But heat, cold, touch, warmth— even if it came with pain, he’d like to have it. It would at least help Hyakkimaru know when there’s a fire nearby. He’s always been a little worried about walking through another one—if he burns his prosthetics, there’ll be no Jukai to help him now.

Hyakkimaru resists the urge to sigh, just closes his eyes briefly and lowers his head a little more. In a way, not much has changed. He’s lost the mask Jukai gave him, but the only difference between the false skin and the real is that the real skin is a lot more flexible and comfortable than the mask ever was.

White fire flares in his vision, abrupt and rapid, jolting Hyakkimaru from his musings. He stiffens momentarily before reason reasserts itself, and then he turns his focus away from the fire and back to the stranger beside him.

The soul is doing something again, Hyakkimaru realizes, a bit belatedly. He can’t see the fish anymore—they’ve gone and cooked through, their souls extinguished—but the human soul is by the side of the fire, reaching out, and… wait, what are they doing? Is that an arm, and if it is—

Instinct rings loud through his head. The soul holding something, holding it out, and that something is very, very close to Hyakkimaru’s new face, wait wait wait—

Hyakkimaru leans back and away, trying to focus, too surprised to understand. Seriously, what the heck is the soul doing now?

Thankfully the soul takes the… whatever it is, he can’t see it at all, what a pain—away from Hyakkimaru’s face, and grabs his right prosthetic instead. They close his fingers around something, long and thin, too slim to be a sword or weapon. And… if he concentrates, he thinks he can see something faintly green—a twig? Which means…

Hyakkimaru raises his other prosthetic and lets his fingers fall around the twig. Yep: there’s something on it. Wait, is this the fish?

He brings it to his lips. The scales are thinner, crunchier than usual in his teeth— the flesh falls apart more quickly. He still can’t taste it, but—this is fish. The way Jukai makes it, even. Flaky and juicy and easier to swallow.

…Huh. So the soul was cooking the fish— point to Hyakkimaru, then. He takes another bite, and this time when the soul comes too close, he waits to see what they do. Another green-tinged twig—another fish, and even better, this time they don’t stick the thing in his face.

The third fish, the soul keeps for themself—but well, Hyakkimaru doesn’t really mind. He’s kind of been worrying about that, actually. He knows to eat less from hunger (no sense of pain means no sense of hunger, which apparently means no survival instinct at all, thank you for nothing, demons), but he knows when he should eat, at least, from Jukai’s instructions. It has occurred to him that this new soul would need to eat too—but he hasn’t really started worrying about it until now. Hyakkimaru has spent the day thinking the soul would move on at any moment, and at the very least could be trusted to find their own food … and yet, here they are, numerous hours later and still by his side.

This soul has not passed him by, and Hyakkimaru cannot help but wonder.

They’re a clever soul—small, though. Smaller than him. A child, he thinks, and isn’t that interesting? Hyakkimaru’s pretty sure they saw his skin grow back, and it probably didn’t look pretty—certainly didn’t feel pretty, ugh—and yet. Here they are, doing silly things like cooking his fish and placing his prosthetic at their cheek in a vain attempt to tell him their name.

He’s not as good at this as he is at reading with his fingers—especially not through the prosthetic—but it’s a nice attempt. Sweet, even. Hyakkimaru watches the soul fall back sleep, and turns his head to observe that white-fire soul a little closer. They’ve cooked his fish and shared his food, made a fire and tried to tell him their name. They’ve… stayed. Longer than most do. Longer than anyone has, besides Jukai.

Maybe it’s a temporary thing. Maybe they’re just sticking by him till the end of this road, to the next village—maybe they’re just heading in the same direction. Hyakkimaru doesn’t know. It could be this is only a misunderstanding, and in a few hours time the soul will walk away like every other, and Hyakkimaru can wander again, alone once more. Maybe this soul too will have to stay behind.

…Maybe not.

Hyakkimaru turns his face back towards the fire, where the green has all but vanished, and stares out into the featureless black, trying to remember the way the soul’s face had stretched and compacted, jaw working as they spoke. Writing is easier, but Jukai has taught Hyakkimaru this, too. Just enough to guess.

Do-ro-ro.

If he’s right—and Hyakkimaru thinks he’s right—then that is the soul. The soul’s name. Their name. Jukai, and Dororo—two souls in a thousand that he can finally say he knows.

And maybe, if this Dororo stays a little longer—if they come to the next settlement, and the soul doesn’t leave… if they follow at Hyakkimaru’s heels from this next village as well, if they don’t run from the monsters—if they stay—if they stay—

Maybe then, if that time comes… Hyakkimaru will tell them his name, too.

He’s almost looking forward to it.

[jeshikawa]

For my big summer trip, I traveled down to the island of Shikoku to visit one of the least visited prefectures in Japan, Kochi.

At my JET interview 3 years ago, I was asked if I enjoyed history (yes) and if I had a famous Japanese historical figure. I blanked on the spot and blurted out a safe and easy answer-- Sakamoto Ryouma. The Japanese woman at my interview nodded her head approvingly and wrote something down. The former JET asked me to do a demo lesson for elementary school students about him. I fumbled, started over once, and manage to throw something together on the spot. When I left the interview, I joked that if I made it to Japan, I’d go to where ever Ryouma came from as a sort of tribute.

Well, I made it and since then, I’ve been to Kyoto and Nagasaki, two places affiliated with Ryouma’s life. This year, I went to his home prefecture, Kochi for four days. I had a vague itinerary made up. Vague because I had things I definitely wanted to do but some of them depended on the weather (and a typhoon was coming!).

Anyway, below the cut is the details of my trip! 

But the tl;dr version is:

1. Had local food! The specialty ramen is nabe ramen, served in a hot pot with a chicken broth based and sliced chikuwa. The most popular type of ice cream, aisukurin, is a traditional kind based on a recipe from the 1800s. 

2. Katsurahama Beach is easily accessible with a lot of stuff to visit nearby like the Sakamoto Ryouma museum, a cute shrine on a cliff, an aquarium, and places to eat. The Sakamoto Ryouma Museum was A+ super informative and very English friendly.

3. Kochi is the home for some very famous Japanese figures. Sakamoto Ryouma is one of the most famous historical figures in Japan (second only to Nobunaga in some rankings!). The creator for Anpanman is from Kochi and I had the theme song stuck in my head the whole time. The founder for Mitsubishi is from Kochi, too.

4. Kochi is home to the first yosakoi festival in Japan. Naruko, one of the required elements for yosakoi, is traditionally from Kochi and you can make your own at the yosakoi museum.

5. Kochi loves chickens, especially a certain breed. 

6. Kochi Castle was a struggle to climb up to in the summer but the view was amazing. If you go on Sunday, you can visit a 300 year old open market nearby. I saw an 800 yen whole watermelon.

7. Kitagawamura is home to “Monet’s Garden,” a garden inspired by Monet’s paintings and the only place outside France to be allowed to officially use the title.

8. You can get delicious food and eat next to locals at Hirome Market.

9. Not many people spoke much English if at all but oh my god the locals in Kochi were some of the friendliest people I have ever met in Japan and I was so touched by their kindness and willingness to make my trip the best it could be.

Every prefecture has their own style of ramen. Kochi’s is nabe ramen; ramen served in hot pots that simmer when you remove the top. Traditionally, the ramen has a chicken broth base and comes with sliced chikuwa and green onion. I went to one place that specialized on it and they also served the ramen with chicken skin and shredded chicken. 

It was hot so at Katsurahama Beach and Kochi Castle, I had aisukurin. It's ice cream made from eggs, sugar, and powdered skim milk. It’s a little crunchier and lighter tasting than regular ice cream because there’s less fat. I don’t like having dairy in the summer because it feels so heavy in my stomach but I really liked this.

While at Katsurahama, I climbed up a small cliff (which is honestly a lot easier than it sounds!) to visit a small shrine that looked over the beach. The Sakamoto Ryouma museum nearby was extremely informative and very English friendly. When it comes to museums in Japan, I think this one was one of the most English friendly ones with very detailed and comprehensive translations for about 85% of the things on display if you got their audio guide. The only thing that didn’t really have English translations was the new special and temporary exhibit about the women in Ryouma’s life (which was honestly really cool to see). We visited the aquarium that was there and it was okay... I don’t really like a lot of aquariums and zoos and this one didn’t really impress me. But it was close to the shrine and the museum and next to the bus stop so it was convenient. 

Kochi loves their boy, Ryouma. He’s on all of the omiyage, his statue is every where, there are photo op cut outs all over the place, and it’s honestly really cute. Kochi isn’t a very popular prefecture but when your local boy is one of the most famous figures in Japanese history (I’ve seen him ranked as #2 on some lists, second only to Nobunaga!), you run with it. Do you know what else is from Kochi? The creator of Anpanman is from Kochi! The artist designed characters for all of the stations on the train lines and they greet you on all of the signs. Whenever a train leaves Kochi station, you can hear a jingle from the show. In Kochi City, there are statues of the characters every where. The founder for Mitsubishi is also from Kochi and the Mitsubishi logo is based on the crest for the Tosa Clan.

Kochi is home to the first yosakoi festival in Japan. It’s one of the biggest festivals in the prefecture and one of the biggest yosakoi festivals in Japan. At the yosakoi museum in Kochi City, you can make naruko which are a requirement for yosakoi. Naruko originated from Kochi as a tool farmers used to scare off crows.

Kochi Castle was a work out in the summer because it’s up a hill... but the view from the top of the castle was amazing. It was also very informative with a lot of information in English. I learned a lot about Japanese castles. If you go to the castle on Sunday, you can also visit the open air Sunday Market which has been going strong for 300 years. I saw a whole watermelon there for 800 yen. A local told me Kochi is very small and agricultural so things are just cheaper, even in the city.

Near the castle, you can visit the Castle Museum and the Yosakoi Inari Shrine. The Yosakoi Inari Shrine has chickens and roosters running around. Imagine seeing chickens and roosters running around in the middle of a city! People often go to the shrine to pray for a successful Yosakoi festival and season.

Something that was on my Japan Bucket List was visiting Monet’s Garden in Japan. I didn’t realize it was in Kochi until I started planning my trip! It’s the only place outside of France allowed to use the title “Monet’s Garden” and it was designed with cooperation and support from Monet’s Garden in France. If you go in the summer, you can see the lilies on the pond and it really looks like some of Monet’s paintings come to life. It was about a 1.5 hour train ride one way so it was 3 hours all together... and we spent about 2 hours at the garden looking around and eating lunch so this was basically one whole day.

At night, we hit up Hirome Market which is a market place with a ton of food and drink stalls that you can enjoy with locals. You can try tons of delicious food there! Street food like okonomiyaki, karaage, and takoyaki but also full meals like ramen, nabe, sushi, and pizza. I had bonito tataki-- lightly seared bonito. It’s one of the signature dishes in Kochi.

Through out the trip, I hit up a few shrines and temples for goshuin. I didn’t actually do the 88 Temple Tour because those temples are scattered all across Shikoku but I hit up a few temples on the route that were easy to get to. 

It was really a full 4 days! But something that really stuck out to me on the trip were the people. Like I said, Kochi is one of the least visited prefectures in Japan, especially among foreign tourists. While I was traveling with my friend, locals were usually very curious to find out why we were there, especially before the big yosakoi festival. They were always so excited and willing to give us recommendations for places to visit and foods to try. Even if their English wasn’t very good and my Japanese wasn’t great, they were always proud to try and explain things to us. I was in a small mom and pop convenience shop looking for a drink to by and the owner tried very hard to explain the regional juices, sodas, and alcohol for sale. On the train, I saw an interesting building on a mountain and an old man did his best to explain to me it was a temple after I snapped a photo of it. At Katsurahama beach, we ran into a local high school field trip and the teacher invited us to go to the Ryouma museum along with them. One hot day, I went to a restaurant and fanned myself while waiting for food... the restaurant owner gave me a fan. When I tried to return it after dinner, he told me to keep it so I could stay cool on my trip. Even on the plane ride into Kochi, a local woman asked us what we were going to do in Kochi and gave us a few recommendations. it’s really ridiculous how incredibly nice everyone in Kochi was when they spoke to us. It was honestly one of the nicest experiences I’ve ever had dealing with local people.

My trip honestly ended up  being A LOT better than I thought it would go. It’s legit one of my favorite places I’ve visited and a big part of that is just how proud and kind the people were every where I went. It’s very obvious that there are people here proud of their history and culture and they genuinely want to share it with others. This was a great way to celebrate 3 years in Japan!

[stcllac]

[ the pages are found in a small cave leading up to the winter court, slightly wet from the damp air. the name and date are smudged ]

          getting into the winter court is harder than it seems !! it’s a constant walk uphill until you manage to get out of the forest and to the gates, which were open when i arrived. there weren’t any guards around, so i just waltzed on through. i figured it would be okay, since they didn’t seem to be guarding the place.

          i was led into what looks like the marketplace square. a beautiful fountain with an ice serpent as its spout was right in the centre, and people had set up stalls that people were buying from. there was music being played and streets that led off into other areas of the court. everything is so white and icy blue, like the floors and the walls, but if you look closely there’s an intricate design on every surface. i decided to stay and chat with some of the locals and found out some things !!

          apparently, i’d arrived in the middle of yule, which i know is another term for the winter solstice. apparently this is a time for celebration and it’s when the more social festivities are held. princes and princesses are more likely to be coronated during yule and foreigners are more likely to visit. according to the locals, this is when the true magic of the winter court is at its highest, and so people are generally in high spirits, slowing down only for the next phase.

          blizzard is the complete opposite of yule it isn’t inviting in the slightest, and it’s when the winds and the snow are strongest, knocking people this way and that. the winter court fae are more equipped to handle the harsh weather and, from what i’ve seen, don’t need to rug up the way we do. the cold doesn’t bother them, but blizzard is still a rough time for them solely because of the strength of it all. that doesn’t stop them, though. the world keeps on turning and they have jobs to do, though many choose to work from home if they have to. on the off-chance that there are celebrations, they are always held inside.

          at the end of it all is frost, which is the calm after the storm. it’s the time where any of the special winter court crops are harvested and sent out to those who wish to buy them. the ground seems crunchier and shinier and there’s a sense of relaxation across the entire court. it’s probably the most normal the court gets, by the sound of it, at least until the time for yule starts up again.

          when i asked if i could see the castle, i was told that i can from outside, but not inside. apparently king irwen and queen nieve are very particular about who they let into their humble abode, which makes sense. when i went to see the castle itself, it stood tall and mighty at the top of the mountain, white and icy blue and overlooking the entirety of the winter court. when i asked some passersby about the king and queen themselves, they shared a look with each other that looked like concern before responding carefully and slowly. apparently the king and queen don’t show their faces much unless it’s for an official announcement, and even then they only use the balcony overlooking the square outside the palace. it’s the kingdom’s princess, elythe, who spends the most time outside. she doesn’t interact with others on a regular basis, apparently, but enough that people know she’s alive and well. when i asked if she would be crowned anytime soon, as i was told she’s a young adult now, there was hesitance. i was then told that the people hoped so.

          after staring in awe at the castle for a little while longer, i headed to the left, intending to go down the path that way, but i was stopped by a guard who told me that the path led to a place usually referred to as snow station because it has the highest snow build up. it leads further down the mountain and to an area known for higher crime rates than the rest of the court. he whispered it to me, and so i have the feeling that it’s not something that people like to talk about. do the king and queen turn a blind eye to it ??

          i went in a different direction instead and found other places, like the grand library in the centre of town and the ice maze in the middle of their most famous park. i was freezing, and i couldn’t help but be enamoured by how the winter fae can walk around with bare feet and exposed arms and legs. their wings -- which look as though they’re made out of spider silk, but must be stronger due to the harsh winds of blizzard -- are of varying sizes and styles, but i can’t seem to find a pattern. perhaps genetics ?? note to self: do more research on that.

          i’ve noticed that people tend to keep to themselves a lot, but some will offer you a smile as they walk past, which surprised me. i think i thought that since they’re from the winter court, they’d be colder. i’m pleasantly surprised. as i was walking back through the town, someone even offered me a room at the inn for the night, but i declined. i’m always on the move, after all !!

          entry end !!

[joybooth]

Spill your guts or Fill your guts!

“Ok, Let’s have a look at the delicacies we have here,” James Corden started with gleeful excitement. “We have beetle jello shots. We have hot dog juice, which is exactly what it sounds like. We have cricket tapenade toast, pork meat jelly…”

“I can not do that one,” Ginny grimaced.  

“Giant water scorpion, fish smoothie, ants on a log and the new one for tonight it, boneless duck feet. So how are we feeling about this? Are you an adventurous eater?”

“I mean, my brother dared me to eat a worm growing up.”

“Did you do it?”

Ginny blushed, “I did.”

“See, then this will be nothing. Here’s how it goes, I’m going to pick something for you to eat, then I will read a question, you get decide weither to answer the question or eat what’s in front of you. Then you get to pick something for me to eat and so on.”

Ginny nodded.

“What am I going to,” James turned to turntable around watching Ginny’s face closely. “I think I’m going to go with the ants on a log.”

“That was one of my favorite snacks growing up.”

“This will be just like that, just a little crunchier. Now, your question is… Which of your teammates would you trade if you were in charge?”

“I can’t answer that…”

“You can’t answer because you don’t want someone to be mad, or because there isn’t someone, because you know a name popped into your head when I asked.”

“No, honestly, we have a great team this year.”

“Well, sure you just won the pennant for the second year in a row, and you’re on your way to the World Series, but someone must be annoying?”

Ginny shook her head and took a bite. It wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be, so she took a second bite just to make the host squirm. “I just taste the peanut butter,” she shrugged. “Now what am I going to choose for you? How about the…”

“Not the hot dog juice,” he moaned.

“You can’t say that. Of course, that’s what I’m going to pick now.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. James, of all your carpool karaoke guests, whose music do you like the least?”  

“I can’t answer that. Can I? The least doesn’t mean I don’t like it, it just means…”

“That out of all the many talented people you’ve had on the show…”

“I can’t…” he took a drink and immediately started gagging and spit the mouth full into a silver bucket. “You are the worst.”

“I know, so what are you going to give me?”

“I am going to go with… the giant water scorpion, and the question is… rank these pitchers best to worst, Mariano Rivera, Cy Young, and Clayton Kershaw?”

“Um… well Cy young is like the pitcher in all of baseball history, but…” she took a huge bite of the scorpion, chewing with a pinching grimace.

“I can’t believe… you can spit it out if you like?”

Ginny shook her head, swallowed and then opened her mouth to show that she had really eaten it. James and the audience clapped and cheered. “Next I think you could use a little… boneless duck feet.”

“I hate you.”

“I know, and the question is can you name all your camera crew?”

James flushed, “Sure, of course I can…”

The crowd whooed and cheered.

“There’s Jerry.”

Jerry nodded.

“and Tim?” Then James looked at the third cameramen and took a deep breath. “That is… his name is… Derek, that’s my good pal Derek.”

Derek nodded, and again the crowd cheered.

“Nice job,” Ginny laughed.

“Of course, now last but not least… You’ve been great, but I think I’m going to have to go with… the…  pork meat jelly.”

Ginny cringed.

“And your question is…. You’ve been romantically linked to everyone from Drake to Chris Pratt, so, who are you dating?”

Ginny flushed. She and Mike had talked about finally letting the cat out of the bag, but like this? This close to his retirement at the end of the season? And with the series still to play? She looked up into the crowd where Blip, Livan, Tommy, Sonny and Mike sat hoping for a sign. Mike waved her through.

Ginny took a deep breath. “Actually, I’m engaged.”

“You’re kidding?” James asked, clearly shocked.

“To Mike Lawson.”

James looked from Ginny to Mike sitting in the crowd, not quite believing what he was told. “Mike Lawson?”

She grinned. “Yep.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, you heard it here first Ginny Baker and Mike Lawson are engaged. Mike do you want to join us?”

Mike shrugged and made his way down to where they were sitting. By the time he got there someone had added another chair.

“So, I have to ask, how long have you been together?”

“About a year and a half?” Mike answered looking to Ginny to confirm. She nodded.

“And how did you keep this under wraps?”

“Most, if not all of the team and management knew after the end of last season, but we were planning to make an announcement once the old man retired.”

“How do you feel now that the cats out of the bag?”

“Umm, Good,” Ginny answered, and Mike nodded.

“We weren’t hiding it, we just wanted to focus on finishing the season, but I don’t blame her one bit for telling, I wouldn’t want to eat that either.”

“and now my producers are saying we have to go, but thanks for sharing with us, this has been spill your gut or fill your guts!”

[the-questionmark-kid]

Fenrir - Day One

So I’ve never had a dog that doesn’t like to play, especially as a puppy. I’ve also never had a dog that whines...constantly. Honestly the whining sort of concerns me: I know the difference between anxious whining and pain or attention whining, and Fen’s is almost always anxiety. He’s afraid of a lot of stuff! Which is totally normal for an 8 week old puppy, and I did intentionally choose him because of how laid back he was. But even my last super laid back puppy liked to play tug and romp around with her ball - Fen doesn’t seem to know how to play tug and shows absolutely no interest in his kong ball (I’m going to try putting some peanut butter in there next time I crate him). But seriously, he whines when he’s got a toy in his mouth, he whines when he’s surrounded by people, he whines when he’s eating, he even whines as he’s falling asleep - I don’t really know what to do besides ignore him when he’s loud and love on him when he’s quiet. It’s a...slow, process, to say the least.

He’s typical puppy with the crate....except that the fear whining does not stop. He’s just fine going into his pen area and into his crate when I’m down there with him, but the minute I leave there’s a moment of silence before he starts whining. He’s taken naps in his crate when I’m there with him, but as soon as he wakes up and realizes I’m not there, he starts whining. I left him in with a couple pieces of duck jerky for an intentional 15 minutes this morning while I made coffee and after he finished the jerky, he just sounded like he was in agony the whole time. Which, doesn’t phase me - I’ve had a lot of dogs, I’m not a novice - but when there was finally a second of silence and I went down to him, he started right back up with the screaming. His mouth is just little enough that he can bite between the wire, and that’s a little concerning. The last puppy I fostered used to thrash in her crate so badly I was actually afraid she’d hurt herself, and that’s ultimately a big reason why I didn’t end up keeping her. I’m going to try a puzzle feeder, but if anyone on dogblr has advice on this problem, I am totally open to all advice (I will not use an E-collar unless he is actually in danger of harming himself; he’s just screaming). 

Fen is great with walks though. Typical shepherd, he follows me everywhere and the only “disciplining” I have to do is nudge him along and get him to walk forward when he stops and stares at something - and it doesn’t take much coaxing, which is great. He also tells me when he wants to go out, but it can be difficult to decipher the “I gotta go” whines from his constant state of being. I might find some sleigh bells for him to ring when he wants out - my dad did the same thing for our shepherd when she was young and it worked perfectly (and frankly I’d rather hear sleigh bells over whining). 

He is very people focused. He responds well to treats, but I actually got him to come upstairs this morning just by going up myself and waiting out of sight. He cried the whole time, but he sure booked it up those stairs. I’m using a clicker in addition to the treats: he’s caught on to come and sit really quick (our focus this morning) and he understands the “not okay” tone of voice (slowly learning to not bite hands. or feet. or shirts. or pants. or sides. or my beard. #puppies). I’m optimistic that when he does learn to play tug (or I somehow manage to find a toy he really likes) obedience training will be extremely smooth. 

His chewing isn’t that bad, which I’m surprised by. His teeth clearly bother him - he doesn’t play but he gnaws on all of his toys, whining all the while of course. I think I accidentally got him a couple toys that are a bit big for his tiny puppy mouth (I’m too used to giants) so I think I’ll walk him around 11 and crate him while I go pick up a puzzle feeder and some smaller, crunchier chews. I tried taking him to the store with me yesterday and he did okay, but he was too anxious and overwhelmed to really walk about. He did get to meet another puppy though, which made him happy, and he picked out a stuffed lion that he really seems to like. We actually managed a brief game of tug with it, in any event, so that’s more than I can say about most of his toys. 

As it is, we’re slowly figuring out there’s a brain in his little head and he’s learning he can do things for himself (like stairs and eating and pulling himself up). He hasn’t had an accident at all inside, which is awesome. The only thing that’s stumping me is this persistent whining - I’ll definitely ask the vet about it and I’ll probably get one of those stress relief sprays (but I don’t have a lot of confidence in those), but hey any advice is worth hearing.

[blackrose-ffxiv]

Guilty as Charged Part 1 09/21

The snow spilled out over the landscape of the Coerthan Western Highlands, the thick, frozen layers on the ground topped up by crunchier snow, and light flakes that blew with the wind. Amidst the greys and whites and blues sat a lonely tower that overlooked a perilous cliff. It shone with the warmth of candles, kept burning by those few faithful who still made pilgrimages to this place, the last of the twelve towers. Gilbert Viscart sat on one knee, his blade in one hand, his head bent in prayer. Even so, he could hear the sound of others approaching. Two people he had invited here.

Idristan Agache's boots crunched through the snow as he slowly approached the stone tower. His hand was resting on the hilt of the sword at his side and he seems a bit on edge, though that lessens slightly as he realizes that it was just Gilbert and not Lebeaux. Not yet. His eyes wander up towards the tower, his lips pursing as he notes the candles. "An interesting choice," he muses as he approaches the knight, before turning slightly so he could see the too narrow approach here. "I suppose he's going for fashionably late," he muses under his breath as he toys with the hilt of his rapier.

Gilbert continues to murmur a moment more as he says a conventional folk prayer to the different aspects of Halone. The deathbringer. The unyielding. The ever-victorious. The spear. She who will not abide. Finally he rises, making a simple gesture of acknowledgement before turning towards Idristan. "Ser Agache", he says simply.

Lebeaux Desrosiers made his way through the snows towards the Ninth Vare, finding two figures already waiting for him. He stopped at the base of the stairs, lowering his head briefly and performing a sacred gesture over himself before he began to ascend. Normally he would have arrived early to investigate the place of battle, yet there was no need this time. He was familiar with the site as well, its significance and there was the desire to create an impression upon his arrival. He wore somber black robes of the clergy and at his hip hung a far more understated sword than his last dueling piece. He intended to play the full extent of whatever lingering reverence there may be for the cloth in his opponent, and as ever the saintly smile curved his lips. As he made his way up the stairs his eyes narrowed when he realized just who stood there. “You are you the accuser?” He scoffed as he stood with Gilbert and Idristan.

Gilbert maintained a serious expression, and the priestly garb did have the effect of prompting him to lower his head reverently, if briefly. A gesture of his hand to acknowledge Lebeaux as in his role as a Spiritual Father.  He then looked over to Idristan, curious how he would respond.

Idristan inclines his head slightly in the most cursory of bows. "Ser Gilbert," he says as he spots motion out of the corner of his eye. The fingers that had been drumming the pommel of his rapier tighten as he looks over towards Lebeaux. His nose wrinkles as he realizes what exactly the other was wearing. As far as he was concerned, it was both entirely fitting and a mockery at the same time. "Yes. Me," he says, unable to keep a note of disgust out of his voice. Reverence for the cloth likely wasn't going to be a factor here. "Are you truly that surprised?"

The appropriate return gesture was made to Gilbert, accepting the sign of reverence as well as wordlessly blessing the Knight. Even if he was a colossal pain at the moment it wouldn’t do to alienate him entirely just yet. That’s right, play up that piety. “I am surprised.” He agreed as he turned the serene smile back to Idristan, though his eyes remained narrowed. Almost as cold and colorless as the ice around them. “I presumed you would have learned something during our last duel. Other than picking up tips for decent attire.” He noted, the corner of his smile curling smugly for a brief moment before it smoothed out again. “Nor would I have expected you to risk exposing yourself and your own crimes in your desperation to drag me down.”

Gilbert frowned, but it seemed at least as if the pair were talking, rather than bearing arms against each other. That was good. His own hand rested loosely on his blade. An implicit warning against those who might break the peace by striking suddenly. This was a solemn occasion in his mind.

Idristan's lip curls as he meets Lebeaux's eyes without flinching. "The last duel ended in a draw," he points out, ignoring the jab. "That won't be the case again. And I would only need to worry about that if I lost," he points out. "Not that I have anything to hide." Or at least, nothing that he figured Gilbert was likely to find.

"Sers", Gilbert interjected. "I would ask that you both join me in a prayer, imploring the Fury to bless these proceedings before we..." Okay. This sounded less solemn than he had hoped. "Um. Proceed."

“Ohh, but don’t you.” He practically purred, generally not a good sign. Nonetheless he shifted his attention over to Gilbert and held up a hand to stop the other. “It would be the least I could do to bless the proceedings, yet before that. Did you acquire the documents I requested.”

Idristan narrows his eyes, fingers instinctively curling around his sword's hilt as he studies Lebeaux warily. "No," he snaps, though he sounds perhaps a touch less self-assured than he had before. He then looks between Gilbert and Lebeaux, definitely uncertain now as he shifts slightly on his feet. "Any blessing from him would be a mockery," he snaps. "And what documents are these?"

Gilbert looks back to Idristan. "Ser Lebeaux asked me to make the same inquiries about you. From the same source", he says simply. "If you are innocent, you have nothing to fear." He then looks between them. "I would lead the prayer, Ser. If only for the sake of impartiality."

Lebeaux tilted his head slightly, acquiescing to Gilbert’s preference to lead the prayer. “Should you feel you are fit to do so, please go ahead.” He agreed before he looked back to Idristan. “It seemed as though you have requested he look into my past. My former employment. I felt it important to do the same. Oh, and of course known alliances and family ties…” He mused as he peered down his nose. “Are you quite sure you wish to prosecute me still.”

Gilbert scowled a bit as Lebeaux expanded on his inquiries, but he was certainly not about to say what - if anything - he had found.

Idristan inclines his head to Gilbert as well. "That would be acceptable." His eyes then flick back over to Lebeaux. He swallows hard, but his jaw his set as he glares up at the taller elezen. "I have faith that I will prevail," he states calmly--or at least, as calmly as he can manage under the tense circumstances.

Lebeaux smiled primly. “Then go ahead. Declare the charges against me, Gilbert and begin the process. My counter-charges should be added as well for Idristan Agache; desertion, cowardice, dravanian sympathizing during the war effort and heresy.”

"First. Let us pray", Gilbert says. "Together." The Knight held out his hands to either side of himself. He intended for the pair to kneel there, rather than beside each other while he had his eyes closed. He turned around, then, and knelt.

Idristan stiffens, fingers curling into fists as he glares over at the other elezen with pure hate. It seems to be taking all of his self-control to bite his tongue. He turns sharply on his heel in answer, going over to kneel next to Gilbert. The knight was likely wise in keeping them separated.

Lebeaux sniffed haughtily and turned on his bootheel to sink down to a knee to join in the prayer. He definitely would have taken the opportunity to strike the first blow then and there, if their 'referee' hadn't also been armed.

"Divine Halone. Blessed Fallen of the Heavens' Ward. Please hear the prayers of these poor sinners. We are but wretched creatures, seeking to do Your will and to emulate Your example. In this cause, we ask you to bless these proceedings, to see justice done." There was a pause before he continued, eyes closed, yet feeling the flickering light of the candle on his skin. "I know that we are far from the blessed halls of the Supreme Sacred Tribunal of Halonic Inquisitory Doctrine. Though the law is no longer blessed by the Divine. Though the Church and Your mortal servants have been discredited. Though Ishgard has acted against Your will, we still seek Your truth. Show us which of these two men is in the right. Bless the blade of the one who speaks true, and allow him to strike down the wretched evildoer who speaks false. Do this, and we will continue to do honour to You, to fight in Your name, to defeat those who would oppose Your will."

Idristan keeps silent during the prayer, but as Gilbert goes on he starts to grit his teeth. Apparently he had Opinions about many of these topics, and they did not agree with Gilbert's interpretations of recent events. He murmurs the most quietest and most cursory of "amen"'s, before his eyes flicker open, glancing over towards the other two.

“Her Will be done.” Lebeaux muttered in agreement before lifting his head and opening his eyes, keeping his attention forwards for the time being.

Gilbert rose quietly, unaware of Idristan's gritted teeth. "Please step down from the tower. I would not see blood spilled on the sacred monument."

"Because it has stood for so much good," Idristan mutters under his breath as he gets to his feet. Keeping his eyes on Lebeaux, he slowly descends down into the snow.

Lebeaux rose slowly to his feet, smiling a bit smugly at Gilbert. As though to say ‘see’ after Idristan’s snarky remark. He carefully brushed stray snow from his robe. “That doesn’t seem like a good way to earn Her favor.” He mused with that same little smirk as he made his way down the stairs to the snow below. “This is rather more serious than our last duel, I’m sure you understand. It will likely be to the death.”

Gilbert descends from the stairs as well, looking between the pair. He looks over to "Ser Agache, as the challenger you claim the right to act as the judgement of the righteous. With the eye of the Fury upon you, what charge do you lay on your opponent?"

Idristan rolls his eyes at Lebeaux. "I would say that She has made it very clear her feelings about the old ways," he counters. "Or have you not noticed the War is over?" He then scowls. "And yes, I am very much aware," he says quietly. He then looks over to Gilbert, pursing his lips as he does so, before he nods once and looks back to Lebeaux. "I assert that he has not carried out the will of the Fury. That he has abused the power that his position gave him, and that he is little more than a common torturer and murderer," he states, ending with a sneer at the last words.

Gilbert nods in acknowledgement of Idristan's words before looking to the other side. "Ser, as the challenged party the eyes of the Fury are upon you. How do you respond to these charges?"

“Not guilty of all charges. I declare them libelous and name the accuser a shameless slanderer.” Lebeaux added on for extra emphasis, lifting his chin to smile down his long nose at the shorter elezen.

Gilbert nodded. "Then let it be settled through Trial by Combat. Let the Fury herself bless the innocent and strike down the guilty." He seemed quite sincere in saying this, finally settling on lebeaux again: "As the challenged party, it is your right to choose the weapon. By what weapon do you mean to settle this?"

“Rapier.” Lebeaux confirmed, unfolding his arms to settle a hand on the hilt of the blade at his hip. Though of course a focus was tucked into the pocket of his robes.

Gilbert looked over to Idristan. "You may both brandish your weapons", he said. "Let me know when you are both ready to proceed."

Idristan grits his teeth once more as he glares up at Lebeaux. However his eyes flick over to Gilbert briefly, and he stays both hand and tongue. Mostly. "Of course," he murmurs, keeping a hand on the hilt of his own sword. Then at Gilbert's words he draws it. "I am ready," he says, still glaring over at Lebeaux with hate-filled eyes.

Lebeaux smiled serenely as he drew his own rapier, turning it with a flourish so the silver would catch the reflection off of the snow. He took a moment to check the balance of the weapon then turned aside to assume the starting stance. “May the Fury have mercy on you both for this miscarriage of justice.” He noted haughtily. “I am ready as well.”

@roses-and-grimoires @gilbert-ffxiv

[greatshell-rider]

34. a deer darting away under the trees (sensory prompts)

Lani sat cross-legged in the gnarled roots of an ancient saphion tree. Spears of sunlight lanced through the tree’s branches, moving gently over her body as soft spots of warmth as the wind rustled through. The sharp taste of the saphion leaf sat on the tip of her tongue, slowly permeating her saliva with a brackish bitterness. It cleared her head, though, allowing her to focus on one thing and one thing alone—a rare occurrence, for her.

She focused on the roots. Those thick knotted limbs that cropped up from the leaf-littered forest floor to curl around Lani like a bird’s nest around its clutch of eggs. Though the bark on the trunk of the saphion tree was thick and rough, the roots whereupon Lani sat were rubbed smooth from the press of thousands of fingertips over the course of centuries. A light scent rose from the roots, barely discernible in the warm summer breeze, and despite the familiarity, despite her focus, despite the drug, despite all that she tried, Lani couldn’t name it. All she knew is that she knew it, but whether from long ago or just yesterday . . . well. Perhaps the tree would know.

So Lani shifted her focus. No longer directed merely at the exterior of the tree, She tipped her senses down. Down, down, down, spiraling into a free fall, until she was well within the mindscape of the ancient being and began to slow. Her body remained in the roots’ embrace, but her mind stood at the doorpost of the tree’s mind, and politely, she knocked.

The figurative bark of the figurative doorpost molded into a figurative eye, which stared at Lani in whorls of brown and red. She smiled—figuratively—at it. “Hello.”

“You again?” the tree sighed.

“You should know I’ve almost earned my license,” Lani told it. “Only just barely failed the final exam.”

“By what, half the questions?” the tree grumbled, but figuratively swung its mind’s door open to admit her. “Come inside, you miserable scrap of mineral.”

“I do think I’m getting close,” Lani said as she strolled inside. She threw herself down onto her favorite leafbag—like an Earth beanbag, but crunchier—and sighed dramatically. “It’s just that darn-ed professor! They and their silly written exam! They want me to fail, you know.”

“I can’t imagine why,” the tree said. “Milk, yes or no?”

“Do I look like a heathen?”

“Your choice,” the tree shrugged, and passed her a cup of steaming yellow-tinged tea. It was the same stuff as the leaf on Lani’s physical tongue, but, you know. Figurative. Didn’t make it taste any better. Lani took a sip anyway. She liked these visits with the tree—and not just because the tree tutored her in soothing—and if the tree insisted she drink the weird juice, well, she would drink the weird juice.

The tree poured itself a cup and folded itself down into a leafbag opposite of Lani. “So. Why grace my mind with yours today, dear pupil?”

Lani startled, nearly dropping her tea as she pulled and tugged at the skin around her—figurative—eye, trying to see how the pupil had changed. “When did the transformation begin!” she cried out in horror. “Help, Teacher! I-I think I can feel antlers growing!” She grabbed at her hair and pulled at it in agonized panic—then glanced up to see if the tree was smiling.

It wasn’t, but Lani laughed anyway, rewarding her funny little prank with another sip of tea. She shrugged. “Yeah, no, just wanted to pop in. Say hi. Say no to your milk. Make knee-slapping jokes.”

“The usual, I see,” the tree said. “And here I thought you’d heard the news . . .”

Lani perked up, setting her cup aside to lean forward with elbows on her knees. “Trees’re talkin’ again, huh?”

“Clean up that accent,” the tree scolded. “No one wants to hear it in these parts, least of all me.”

Lani nodded eagerly. “Right. And the hot goss?”

The tree sighed. “It’s steaming,” it admitted. “Tunes from the mountains is that the Tarnished Giants are on the move.” It took a long sip of tea, eyeing Lani for her reaction.

Lani sat back. “Oh, is that all?” She yawned. “Cool.”

The tree pursed its lips. “It is not ‘all’ and it is not ‘cool’. Surely you know from your lessons what the Tarnished Giants are capable of.”

Lani flapped her hand dismissively. “Oh sure, sure. It’s just that that’s old goss. Cold, sticky, scraped-off-the-bottom-of-the-pot goss. I heard all about the rust rocks or whatever from the birds yesterday morning.”

The tree stared at her a long moment before remembering its tea and drinking again. “I simply cannot believe a soother of your capabilities has not yet earned her license,” it murmured, shaking its head. “Trees and birds and stone? You may have a point about Rupfford’s exam.”

“Right? I’ve told everyone how lame it is, but you’re the only one so far who’s listened.” She tsk-ed. “I guess it just goes to show how—”

“So what did the birds tell you?” the tree interrupted. It rotated its empty cup around and around in its hands. “Anything more on the Tarnished?”

“Nah, they weren’t too keen on talking too much about them. However . . . there was something else . . .” Lani looked slyly up at the tree, scratching idly at her scalp in a non-idle way.

The tree nodded immediately. “You’ll get your regular payment. Next fortnight?”

“I might need it a little sooner . . .”

The tree considered a moment this time. “Night after the full moon. That’s the soonest I can have it.”

“Deal! So. Here’s the real hot goss . . .” Lani leaned in and the tree did the same, their minds blurring and blending together to allow the secret and untraceable transfer of sooth. Sheer knowledge. Utter truth. That which is known and that which is, is. That which could not be denied. That which was, and is, and would be. A single thread of the universe, loosened from its tapestry for just the barest of moments to be passed between fingertips.

Finally Lani withdrew, collapsing back onto her leafbag, figuratively beaded with sweat and literally exhausted. The tree slid out much more gracefully, only taking a moment to steady itself before clearing its throat and saying, “Well. That is certainly . . .”

“Hot goss,” Lani breathed, sinking a mile deep into the leafbag.

“It is certainly something,” the tree agreed. It turned its cup around a little quicker. “But, Lani, are you sure. I know you trust Red Breast’s song, but if this rumor proves to be true . . .”

Lani snorted. “I did not mingle my mind with yours just for you to doubt the sooth’s validity.”

The tree frowned. “I suppose. Well. This is, at the very least, deeply—”

There was a rustling sound louder than the rest in the physical world, and Lani lost her concentration. Immediately she snapped back into her body, and had barely a moment to register a young stag fleeing into the brush with his purple-fluff tail flared high before the pain hit her skull like the blacksmith’s hammer to their anvil.

“Owwww,” she groaned, doubling over and grabbing her head. “Ugh. Stupid deer.” At least it was night now, the bright sunshine replaced with the softer glow of distant stars.

“That is what you get for imperfectly disconnecting minds with the saphion,” a haughty voice said. “Question number thirty-eight, isn’t it, on my exam.”

Lani groaned louder as a figure stepped out of the shadows of a nearby tree. “Professor Rupfford,” she said, miserably watching them approach. “How ever did you find me.”

“The Board has been aware of your . . . additional tutoring for a while now.” The professor loomed over her, arms folded inside the long sleeves of their honey-gold robe. “It took very little effort to narrow down the options of who could handle your temperament from there.”

Lani merely grunted, too preoccupied with handling her head’s temperament to come up with something clever, or even snarky.

“Come on,” they said, taking Lani by the upper arm and dragging her to her feet. “We would have words with you.”

They marched through the trees, Lani stumbling after them. “We?” she mumbled. “Who—the Board?”

Rupfford’s grip on her arm tightened, and Lani glanced at them, noticing how deep the lines of their face went, how their mouth was drawn into a line tauter than usual, how the look in their brown eyes was strained. How it seemed, to her at least, that the professor wasn’t angry. Or even just deeply upset at the poor conduct of one of their students. No . . . they were afraid.

A slow grin crawled up Lani’s face. “Hmm,” she mused, absently dismissing the headache. The last of the saphion leaf’s effects wore off, and all the different little thoughts and plots and puzzles and games and treats began to creak and turn, like all the little well-oiled gears of an old-fashioned clock. “You’ve figured it out, haven’t you?”

The professor didn’t respond, nothing changing in their face or posture, but walked faster, forcing Lani to jog to keep up.

Well, that wouldn’t do. Lani dug in her heels and dragged the two of them to a halt. Rupfford swung around to face her and Lani stood up on tip-toe to whisper in their ear, “You know who I am. You figured. It. Out. Haven’t you?”

They drew back as if she were a venomous snake. “Come quietly,” they hissed, spit speckling Lani’s face. “Do not make me use force.”

“Just say it,” Lani told them, smirking now. “Go on, don’t be afraid. I dare you. What’s my name?”

Their upper lip curled, revealing teeth stained purple. “Starweaver.” They said it like a curse. “Yes, I know who you are. I know what you’ve done, moving across the universe and all its many ’scapes. I know what you plan to do here, as well.”

Lani laughed at that. “Let’s say, for the fun of it,” she said, wiping away a tear, “that you do. The question then, is what are you planning to do in response?” She smirked. “What will the Chipped Diamond do to stop me?”

Rupfford’s eyes widened. “I—I don’t—” they began to stammer.

“Don’t hurt yourself trying to say a lie,” Lani said, disgusted. “I mean, you’ll hurt me as well. That’s painful to watch.”

They opened and closed their mouth a few times more. Then, finally, managed to get out, “You are coming with me, Starweaver.”

“Sure.”

“Try as you may to resist, but I have full authorization to—What? What did you say?”

Lani stuck her hands in her pockets, bored. “Sure. I’ll come with.”

They stared at her.

“I’ll take a pass on the burlap sack or whatever blindfold-thingy you’ve got,” she added. “Been there, done that, not a great time, so—”

“To be clear,” the professor cut in. “You are. Coming. Willingly.”

Lani shrugged. “I mean, I already have a headache, so it’s not like I want to get knocked out and undergo more head trauma . . .”

They narrowed their eyes. “This is some sort of trick, isn’t it,” they said, words quick and clipped. “You’re trained as a soother, so you shouldn’t be able to, but you can lie, can’t you, which means this, and everything you’ve said, cannot be trusted, and—”

“Dude,” Lani said, “this is a limited time offer only. Either lead the way, or get out of my way, because one way or another I will be speaking to the Chipped Diamond tonight. This ’scape was getting boring anyway, so chop chop.” She clapped her hands. “Let’s get this thing moving. To the climax already!”

They just continued to stare, so Lani shooed her hands at them. “Move!”

And they did, stumbling a little uncertainly back onto the narrow deer trail they’d been pulling her down. But she followed after, strolling along as patiently as she could, and slowly Rupfford regained some of their composure, smoothing down their robes and quickening their stride to an urgent march. Impressive, for a pair of knees so old and knobbly. They even dared turn their back to Lani, no longer checking to see if she was still following, and didn’t bother with any more words or questions. Which Lani appreciated, and she kept quiet too. She couldn’t talk to any birds or trees along the way, not with Rupfford so attuned a soother, but if they passed a large enough boulder . . . Well, a finger’s brush wasn’t much, but it was possible she could meld with its mind enough to ask it to send a message to Jerry and warn him of the timetable’s adjustment. Her brother wouldn’t be pleased, but when was he? And it was true, Lani supposed, that forcing them to act without their strike force fully prepared increased the possibility of this whole scheme falling apart quicker than paper mâché in rain to quite a high percentage. Such as it was. Lani had chosen this plan mostly just to try it out, anyway. She’d never been confident about it. It rarely served well to be certain of anything. Just determined.

So Lani lowered her head, eyes trained on the back of her professor’s robes, and stalked through the trees behind them. Maybe if she had time, maybe once this was all done, she would pop in on her saphion teacher again and tell it of this hot, hot goss. She wouldn’t drink the leaf juice this time, however. She was sick of tea.

[prepare4trouble]

Star Wars Rebels fanfic - No Worse Than Before (But Now You Know)(5)

Little By Little AU

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

The scent of freshly-brewed caf permeated the air as soon as Hera opened the door of her quarters and stepped out into the corridor.  It smelled like the real thing, not the rehydrated, freeze-dried granules that they usually had to make do with.  The aroma was deep and intoxicating, and, still half asleep, she breathed in slowly and deeply, savoring it, before turning to trace the scent back to its origin.

She located the source in the lounge area, where she found Kanan placing a small plate piled high with what looked like fresh slices of meiloorun onto an already well-stocked table.  She stopped in the doorway and stared, trying, and failing, to make sense of what she was seeing.  She rushed quickly through several significant dates in her head, and found nothing that corresponded with the current day; birthdays, anniversaries, nothing.  The next reason for a celebration was months away, and anyway, considering the events of the previous day, celebration was the furthest thing from her mind.

Kanan was already fully dressed and, judging by the contents of the table, had been hard at work for quite some time.  He turned to face her with a hesitant smile, then carefully poured first one, and then a second, cup of caf from the pot.  Steam rose from the cups as he did, and the aroma intensified.

“Right on time,” he told her.

“For…” Hera surveyed the scene before her for a second time, still trying to come up with a logical explanation for what she was seeing.  Kanan had apparently done everything but hire a waiter.   “…what?”

Kanan frowned.  He indicated the table with a wave of one hand.  “Breakfast,” he said.  “I thought that much would be obvious.”

Two places had been set, each with an empty plate laying before a wide selection of fresh — not dried, not rehydrated and not even loaded with preservatives — food.  Not a ration pack in sight; he had provided fruit, cereal, waffles with syrup on the side, caf of course, and, placed to the left of the table, like a jewel in the crown, two thick slices of what looked — and she had to look twice to make sure — like jogan fruitcake.

“What?” she said again, unable to think of any other way to articulate her confusion.

Kanan walked over to her, took her by the arm, and pulled her gently but insistently in the direction of the table.  She sat down, still staring at the table in confusion.

She tried for a different question.  “How?  Where did you get all this?”

Kanan sat down opposite her.  “I called in a few favors,” he said.  “I might owe a few now too.  Also, you’d be surprised what people will bet on the dokma races.”

Hera picked up her cup and wrapped both hands around it, feeling the warmth.  She inhaled deeply.  It had been a long time since she had had the genuine article.  She took a small sip, and allowed the warm, dark liquid to roll over her tongue, savoring the taste.  It had been almost as long since she had eaten a full meal of real food.  Ration packs were fine, they provided all the nutrients they needed, but none of the flavor.

It was too bad it was all going to go to waste.  As much as her mouth watered at the sight and smell of the banquet before her, the thought of actually eating anything was unappealing.

“What’s the occasion?” she asked.

Kanan helped himself to a bowl of cereal and added a splash of blue milk.  “No occasion,” he told her.

It felt like an occasion.  It felt like the meal should be in honor of some happy event, all of them crowded around the small table, sharing stories, laughing, eating until they couldn’t eat any more.  She sipped her drink again.  There was an occasion, it just wasn't one that either of them wanted to discuss.

“Eat something,” Kanan told her.  He pushed the plate of meiloorun slices a little closer, then grabbed two for himself before moving his hand away.

She considered it.  He had clearly gone to a lot of effort, it didn’t seem fair to reject outright his attempts at making her feel better.  She picked up a slice of fruit and bit into it.  It wasn’t half bad.  A little tarter than the one she had shared with Ezra the night before, a little crunchier, like it could have done with another day to ripen, but still delicious.  She took another slice and this time popped the whole thing into her mouth.

Kanan nodded approvingly, then swapped the bread with the fruit, placing it in front of her.  She ignored it and watched Kanan eating, sipping occasionally at her drink.

“What about Ezra?” she asked, after a while.  “It doesn't seem fair not to invite him.”

“Ezra doesn’t have any assigned duties this morning; by the time he crawls out of bed, you’d have been long gone.  Anyway, at the rate you’re eating, there won’t be any shortage of food left for him.”

She thought of Ezra waking, entering the kitchen to find something to eat and finding the remains of a special occasion breakfast.  What would he think?  That they were happy?  That they were celebrating?

“Why did you do this?” she asked.

Kanan frowned.  “Did you eat anything yesterday?” he asked.

“Yes.”  A ration pack for breakfast, before she had known anything was wrong —  it seemed so strange that this time yesterday she had had no idea — and about a quarter of a meiloorun, shared with Ezra over a conversation about everything but the thing they should have discussed.

He reached across the table, placed two waffles on her plate and poured syrup over them, then picked up three slices of fruit and placed them on the top.  Finally, he picked up her fork, and placed it in her hand.  “I doubt it was much,” he told her.  “You’re always so busy worrying about everybody else, you forget that you need to take care of yourself first.  After all, if anything happened to you, the rest of us would fall apart.  Not just our crew; Phoenix Squadron, the base, possibly the whole Rebellion.”

Simply because there was a fork in her hand and a plate of food in front of her, Hera broke off a piece of waffle with the side of the fork, speared it, and brought it to her mouth.  The sweetness of the waffles and syrup contrasted well with the tartness of the fruit.  She took another bite, and then another, and oddly, once she had started eating, her appetite returned.  It didn’t help with anything else, but the exhaustion faded with the food in her stomach and the caf providing a much-needed energy boost.  Suddenly, getting through the day ahead didn’t feel quite as insurmountable a task.

She glanced up from her almost empty plate.  Kanan was smiling widely.  She licked the syrup from her top lip.  “What?” she asked.

He shook his head.  “Nothing.”

She frowned, finished the last mouthful of waffle and topped up both their cups from the dwindling supply in the pot.  “Where did the waffles come from?” she asked.  Rumor had it — a rumor that she was reasonably sure had been started and perpetuated by Ezra — that Zeb kept a secret supply somewhere on the Ghost.  She wasn’t entirely sure she believed it, but she wouldn't put it past him.

“Don’t worry, Zeb’s secret stash remains to be discovered,” Kanan assured her.

She smiled.  “That’s too bad, Ezra’s convinced he has an endless supply.”

Kanan shrugged.  “Who needs endless waffles?  I have jogan fruitcake, and enough caf to make a fresh pot, if you’ve got time?”

Hera thought about it.  She didn’t have anywhere she needed to be for another hour, but there was something she wanted to do; an idea that she had woken with.  But to do that, she would need information, something more than the information that N015 had given her.  Information that Kanan may be able to provide.  “Sure,” she said.

Actually, she thought she might have agreed even if she had a pressing engagement.  The possibility of fresh, real caf was simply too good to pass up.

“Is Ezra okay?” Hera asked, as she sipped her refilled cup.

Kanan paused, as though taken aback by the question.  “I suppose that depends on what you mean,” he told her.

That was fair.  She thought about it and realized that she didn’t know how to answer.  She could tell for herself how he had been doing the previous night, when he had chattered endlessly about any-and-everything in what she assumed had been an attempt to block her from bringing up the one subject he didn’t want to discuss.  He was coping, but that was likely because he was also probably in denial, or something like it.  She didn’t know but could guess the answer she would have gotten if her question had been in broader terms; how is he doing in general?  Probably not well, but likely covering it enough that nobody noticed.  Nobody but herself and Kanan, at least.

Really, she didn’t want to talk about how he was right now; she wanted reassurances about how he would be.  She wanted Kanan to promise her that everything was going to be okay, whether that reassurance came as a promise that he had made a good start on teaching Ezra what he would need to know, or just a general promise that things would work out.  She didn’t care whether it was sincere or not, she wanted that promise.

She knew better than to ask for it.

“Have you started teaching him anything?” she asked instead.

Kanan raised his cup to his lips and blew gently on the surface before taking a sip.  His expression was far away and thoughtful.  “Since I found out what was happening, I’ve been thinking a lot about what I do,” he said.  “How I do it.  It might sound strange, but I’ve never really thought about it before.  Or, I have, but not so much in words.”

That sounded like an admission that there had been no lessons.  She pressed her lips together.  “Okay.”

“I mean, it’s more of an instinctive thing, like how I don’t put much thought into the process of putting one foot in front of another; it’s an action that I do without having to analyze it.  I probably could try to articulate which muscles work in which order to let me take a step, or jump, or kick, or whatever else, but I doubt I’d be able to come up with an explanation that would make any sense to someone trying it out for the first time.  Does that make sense?  There’s a reason babies don’t learn to walk by listening to their parents’ instructions.”

Hera nodded.  “You’re saying Ezra has to learn by doing.”

“Exactly.”  Kanan reached for the plate containing the two slices of cake.  She watched how he did it, hand moving in the right direction presumably by memory of where he had put that particular item, hand flat, palm down and low to the surface of the table, moving in a small arc until his fingers quickly located the plate, then lifting the slice of cake to his own plate.  That was something that could be taught in words, she was sure of it.  Not everything that Ezra would need to know would involve the Force.

“Isn’t that true of everything you teach him?” she asked.  He hadn’t learnt how to manipulate objects using the Force, or how to fight with his lightsaber, by listening to Kanan lecture him.  “You show him, he copies, he practices until he can do it.  I’ve seen it.”

“That’s true,” Kanan agreed.

She frowned, confused.  “Then…”

“The difference here is, to answer your last question; no, Ezra is not okay.  He’s frightened, understandably so.  He won’t admit it, of course, but he never does.  He’s worried about what’s going to happen, about how he’s going to cope, he’s probably convinced that he’s never going to be able to do what he needs.  Do you think it would be helpful to make him wear a blindfold and work out how much he can’t do?”

Hera felt herself freeze, caught between the need to continue the discussion, and the equally-strong urge to run to Ezra’s quarters, let herself in, wrap her arms around him and never let him go.

“I’m not saying we won’t get to that,” Kanan assured her.  “It’s just that there are some things I want… I need him to be able to do first.  Some lessons that I may have neglected.  A lot of Ezra’s training, I’ve focused on ways to use the Force to help in the fight against the Empire, there are other things that we haven’t spent as much time on as we should have, and it’s those things that are going to be most useful to him here.”  He sighed, and looked so angry with himself with himself that she wanted to reach out and comfort him, tell him it was okay.  “I should have done this before,” he added.

She didn’t ask what those things were that he needed to know; it wasn't important.  All that mattered was that he was rectifying the situation now.  Or planning to.  “You didn’t know this was going to happen,” she told him.  “You had no way of knowing.”

He shook his head.  “It doesn’t matter.  There are things I should have insisted on that I let slide because he found them boring.  It was careless of me, as his master, not to give him that basic grounding.”

“Well, if it was,” Hera said, because of the two of them, she couldn’t claim to be the expert on the Jedi or the Force, “you’re fixing it now.”

Kanan rested his elbows on the table and his head in his hands, fingers running through his hair, massaging the scalp beneath.  He sighed again, a frustrated growl.  “You’re right,” he said.  “I just really, really wish…” he tailed off, then lifted his head from his hands; his hair was out of place now, sticking up at odd angles where his fingers had pulled it loose from the band he used to tie it back.  He shook his head as though shaking the thought out.  “Never mind.  You’re right.”

He still didn’t look entirely happy, but then nothing about what was happening was happy.  Hera took a sip of her rapidly-cooling caf and took a slow, deep breath in.  “Has he spoken to you about telling the others?” she asked.  She found herself subconsciously dropping her voice to just above a whisper as she spoke, as though some random passerby might overhear them and inquire as to what they were talking about.

Kanan frowned, clearly troubled by the question.  “Not exactly,” he said.  He lowered his voice slightly too, as though to match her tone.  “He knows it’s something he’s going to have to do, he also doesn’t want to do it, so I have a feeling he’s going to try to put it off for as long as possible.”

That was what she had been afraid of.  “Sato needs to know,” she said.

Kanan’s expression grew unreadable as he absorbed her words.  “Not yet,” he said.

“He’s the one that’s ultimately responsible for everyone on this base.  If someone’s having an issue that might affect their ability to do their job, he needs to be made aware of it.”

“It’s not affecting…” Kanan frowned and shook his head.  “You’re right.  And I said something very similar to Ezra about you, ahead of the mission you wanted to send him on.  He told me it wasn’t an issue, and I said it could be.  Why am I now taking the opposite side?”

Hera smiled and shook her head.  “I guess you’re feeling protective.  Or maybe you just like to argue.”

Kanan nodded and smiled good-naturedly.  “I do enjoy a good argument.  Why do you think I joined the Rebellion in the first place?”

“And there I was, thinking it had something to do with me.”

He laughed.  “It did.  You’re the one I like to argue with?  But seriously, it doesn't have to be now, does it?  Give him a little time to tell Sabine and Zeb at least, before we bring anybody else into it.  They’ll be back in a few days, what harm will that do?”

She considered it.  Probably none.  There were no missions on the horizon anyway, at least not for Ezra, or for the Ghost crew in general; and as far as she could tell, Ezra’s vision wasn’t so bad that it was going to become a major issue if there were.

She took a deep breath.  “He needs to tell them at the first possible opportunity,” she said.  “As soon as he’s done that, I’ll have a word with Sato.  If doesn’t have to go any further than that for now, but he needs to be aware that eventually other people are going to have to know.”

“Eventually, other people are going to notice,” Kanan added.  “But yeah, he knows they’re going to have to be informed before that.”

Hera nodded.  “So, we’re expecting Sabine and Zeb to be gone for just under a week.  As soon as we receive a communication that they’re en route, he needs to be preparing to tell them.”

Kanan frowned.  “You’re not going to have him meet them off the ship and tell them about it there and then, are you?”  Despite the joking tone in his voice, she could hear genuine concern, as though he actually believed that she might make Ezra do that.

“No,” she said quickly.  “But that day.  Or night, whenever they get home.  Give them time to get settled, then call a meeting.”

Kanan visibly relaxed.  He genuinely had been worried that she wanted Ezra meeting them as the doors to the Phantom opened, and making his announcement.  It would be funny, if the situation wasn’t so very not funny.  She felt a pang of sympathy for everybody involved.  Talking about it had clearly been difficult for Ezra, and for Kanan too, to a lesser extent.  But Sabine and Zeb, they had no idea.  They were going to return from their mission, probably in high spirits and with a stack of carefully embellished stories to tell, and this news was going to crush all that.  It was going to crush them.  And there was nothing that she could do to make it easier.

She sighed, resting her head in her hands.  She had work to do, but work was the furthest thing from her mind right now.  “What if I made a data file?” she asked.

Kanan frowned, clearly confused by the sudden leap in conversation.  “Okay?” he said.

“With information about this Sacul Syndrome thing,” she clarified.  “Something a bit more readable than the scientific texts the droid can provide.  Maybe a bit of info more specific to Ezra too, some of the relevant stuff from the pamphlet the droid gave me about how to help… I don’t know.  Just something we can give to Sabine and Zeb, maybe the others too, if we need to.  It might help.”

Kanan’s frown deepened slightly.  He didn’t reply.

“That was the first thing I wanted,” Hera told him.  “And it’s not something that existed.  I didn’t… I still don’t want to have to ask Ezra that stuff, but if I can, I could save him from having to answer the same questions over and over, and Sabine and Zeb wouldn’t have to worry about how to get the answers they’re looking for.  It would help everyone.”

Kanan looked thoughtful for a moment.  “It might,” he said.  “I’m just wondering how Ezra would feel about you handing something like that out to people.”

“I think it’d make things easier for him,” she said.  But Kanan was right, Ezra might not see it that way.

“It probably would,” Kanan told her.  “I’d still ask him about it first, make sure he’s okay with it before you spend hours working on it, because I have to admit, I’m not sure I’d enjoy being the subject of something like that.  Would you?”

She thought about it.  No, she probably wouldn’t, but she would probably agree to it anyway.  It was better than the alternative.  “I need to talk to Ezra anyway, I need these answers whether I’m writing them down or not, I need to know, Sato’s going to want to know.  I’ll ask him how he feels about the file at the same time.”

“Just, go easy on him, okay?” Kanan said.  

She thought of Ezra the previous day, of his hesitancy, his obvious terror, his inability to even get out the words that he needed to say.  She could understand Kanan’s protectiveness.  She shared it.  That was why the file would help.  But Kanan was right, only if Ezra agreed.

“I will,” she promised.

“Seriously.  These questions you want him to answer, don’t get all ‘Captain Syndulla’ on him.”

She had heard the joke around the base, that Hera Syndulla was actually two people: the first, warm and friendly, the second all business, and terrifying with it.  She never thought she would hear that from Kanan.  She felt herself scowl at him, for all the good it would do, and she got to her feet.  “I’ll see you later,” she said.  “Captain Syndulla has duties she needs to perform.”

She turned and left the room, the now almost-cold cup of caf still half full on the table.