#sense goes out the window. he needs to be child harnessed to keep him from throwing himself off a wall like 'i could totally make that jump

[nerosdayinanime]

sabito = dirtbike redneck. you cant convince me otherwise

[xmalereader]

The Mandalorian X Modern! Male Reader

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|| Masterlist ||

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Summary: Din and Grogu somehow find their way to earth, hiding in the readers house for the meantime while he tries to repair his ship in order to get them back home. But, what happens when Din and Grogu celebrate Christmas with the reader?

Warnings: Fluff, humor, Langauge, Grogu is a cute alien, presents, just pure fluff

-

—

Din has been stuck on earth for almost two weeks now and his process on fixing the ship has been slow. It was hard finding the materials he needed when this planet didn’t have anything useful. Him and Grogu have been staying out of sight and have been living with a strange man that they met along the way. He was trustworthy and caring and Grogu seemed to have grown an attachment towards the man.

Din couldn’t get blame Grogu for getting attached, the man had helped them through the last couple of days and had tried his best to help them and hopefully they can finish the repairs as soon as possible. But somehow today wasn’t the day to do repairs. It has been snowing non stop and the snow could only pile up as minutes goes by. It was his first time seeing the snow pile up in this way.

Grogu had his tiny face pressed up against the large living window as he watches the snow fall, cooing every once an while as his ears twitch up and down. “It’s going to be snowing for the next couple of days.” Said y/n as he enters the living room with some blankets in hand, setting them down on the couch as he sighs. “Weather forecast said that we can end up with a few inches of snow, so I’m not surprised.”

Din was sitting next to kid as he listens to y/n explain. “What about my ship?”

“It’s hidden deep in the woods and no one will come out during a storm like this, trust me.” Y/n reassured him with a small smile. It was still weird for him to see the Mandalorian wearing the helmet while also wearing modern clothes. He remembers the first time he mentioned the helmet to Din, telling him if he was going to remove it but in return the Mandalorian had scoffed at him and refused to remove it, explaining to him that it was part of his creed, Something that he had no idea about. Instead of pestering the Mandalorian he leaves him alone and lets him do as he pleases without causing any trouble.

“Besides it’s Christmas Eve, no one goes out into the woods since everyone is busy with family.” He explains as he wraps Grogu up in a warm blanket, causing the child to squeal happily and to nuzzle his face against the soft material. Y/n hands Din a blanket and sits down next to him. “What’s Christmas?” Asked Din, accepting the blanket and placing it on his lap.

Y/n’s eyes widen. “Do you not celebrate Christmas from where you are from?”

Din shakes his head. “Never heard of it.”

“Right...different planet.” He mumbles out as he bites his lip and tries his best to explain the holday, not wanting to complicate the explanation. “Christmas is about giving and loving. It’s the one holiday where we show kindness to others, but if your religious then Christmas is a different meaning for most people.” He says. “You see, here on earth, people gather together with their families and spend time with them.”

Din tilts his head to the side and asks. “If Christmas is about being with family then why are you here with me instead of them?”

Y/n shyly looks down as he plays with the blanket in his own lap. “I don’t—I don’t have anyone.” He whispers to him. “My parents died in an accident and I was the only child, I’ve spent most of my life alone...”

Grogu is able to sense the others sadness, his ears falling back as he walks over to y/n and grabs one of his fingers, cooing up at him as the other gently chuckles. “It’s okay, I’m used to it.” He shrugs it off like it’s nothing.

Din on the other hand understands the feeling of being alone. He too has been alone for a long time, he did have his covert once but now it’s all gone and it’s just him and the kid. A small clan of two.

“You have us now.” He blurts out.

Y/n blushes deeply and chuckles nervously. “You two have only been here for two weeks, soon you and Grogu will be going back home.” He reminds Din as he plays with the kids tiny hands before letting out a deep breath.

“Anyways, since I tried my best to explain Christmas why not celebrate it a day early?” He beams out with a smile on his face.

Both Grogu and Din look at y/n with a confused look. “What?”

Y/n laughs as he sits up and walks over to the small Christmas tree that he had. “I’ve only know you for two weeks so I took the time to at least get you and the kid something.” He shrugs. “I just really like—giving gifts to others.” He mumbles out shyly as he collects the gifts that he had gotten awhile back.

Walking back to din and Grogu he sits down in front of them and hands out the gifts. “Three for you—and three for you.” He sets the wrapped up gifts in front of the two.

Din can only stare at the presents in front of him while Grogu coos in curiosity and picks up one of gifts, snatching off the bow as it sticks to his hand. He squeals in excitement and tugs on Din to show him.

The Mandalorian gazes towards the child and smiles under the helmet before turning back to y/n. “You don’t need to give us anything.”

“I already told you! I like giving presents during Christmas, besides think of it as a farewell gift.” He tells Din, shoving the gifts closer to the older man. “Just open them.”

Din hesitates, reaching out to grab one of the smaller gifts. He takes his time unwrapping it as Grogu watches him, taking the small Influence as he too unwraps his gifts.

For din, he receives a pair of leather gloves, a warm coat and a harness for the kid. “What’s this for?” He asks, holding the child harness up as y/n grins. “I’ll show you, later.” He winks at the Mandalorian before turning over to see Grogu tearing open the gifts. He coos happily as he holds up the stuffed frog in his hands, showing Din. “Try not to eat it.” He tells the kid as y/n laughs.

Grogu also received some of y/n’s favorite cookies and a new winter coat that would fit him perfectly. “I hope he enjoys the gifts, it isn’t much but at least he’ll have something to keep himself distracted.” He shrugs.

Din smiles. “I think he really likes it, kid doesn’t have many things but I think he will cherish these a lot.” He turns to y/n with a smile hidden behind the beskar helmet.

“Now, about this—“ he holds up the harness again.

Y/n takes it and laughs. “Trust me, your going to need this wherever you go.” He scoots closer to Grogu and picks up the kid. Adjusting the harness around him as he clips it on.

“Let’s go outside Grogu.” Said y/n. Taking the kid in his arms as they head towards the front door. Din follows along, curious to know what the harness is for. He watches y/n set the kid down and unlock the front door, letting the cold air in as Grogus brown eyes widen in joy. He points at the falling snow and quickly makes a rush for it.

Din panics a little and steps forward to snatch the kid up but Grogu is quickly stopped by the use of the harness. At the end on the harness their was a rope that y/n uses to make sure that the kid doesn’t end up running off somewhere he isn’t suppose to be.

“See? Everyone here uses a harness on their kids, prevents them from running away without parents noticing.”

“I guess you were right, this could come in handy.” Y/n chuckles, stepping forward he picks the kid up and closes the door. “Sorry kid, but it’s snowing and cold outside. We have to stay indoors to stay warm.”

Grogu glares at y/n for tricking him, turning away from the human as he pouts. Y/n rolls his eyes and sets the kid down, unclipping the harness and handing it to din.

“Thank you—for the gifts.” Said Din.

“You are welcome, I mean—I don’t know much about where you are from or your culture. I wanted to make something that’ll maybe remind you of home but I couldn’t think of anything and right now this—“ he gestured towards the kid who went back to play with his stuffed frog and eating the cookies. “This was all I could think of, you know?”

Y/n sighs sadly. “Home isn’t a place it’s the people that are their for you.” He whispers out but loud enough for din to hear.

Din has only know y/n for two weeks but somehow today he was able to learn a lot more about him. He now knows, that y/n was the only child in his family, meaning that he doesn’t have anyone.

He takes a look around the place and noticed how their aren’t any signs of other people living here or people who would come and visit.

Y/n was alone.

Din walks over to the kid and bends down to pick him up, walking over to y/n he says. “Our ship will be ready soon and will be leaving in a few days.” Y/n gives him a small smile. “At least you’ll be heading back somewhere familiar.” He says, trying to lighten up the mood.

“Why don’t you come with us?”

“What?”

“Come with us—with me.”

Y/n open and closes his mouth, not knowing what to say. “I—why?”

Din sighs. “After only knowing you for awhile, I can tell that your lonely and besides—“ he sets the kid down. “You don’t have much here, you have no family to visit and you live alone. Would anyone really notice that you left?” He questions. “If you come with me and Grogu, I promise you that you’ll never be alone.”

Y/n chews on his lip nervously as he thinks about the offer. Din was right, he didn’t have much here. He lived alone by the country side and didn’t have many friends, he spends his time locked indoors by himself. He usually declines offers from people he’s worked with since he never felt comfortable around them but with Din.

Din made him feel comfortable and coming home to see him and the kid made him feel happy.

“I guess traveling with you wouldn’t be so bad?” He softly responded to Din, slowly giving him a smile.

Grogu was the first to burst out into a cheer, throwing his little arms in the air as he squeals happily at the news. The two adults break out into a laugh as y/n shakes his head. “I wouldn’t mind seeing a new thing or two.”

“Trust me, you’ll see a lot of stuff that you don’t see here on earth.” Said Din, picking up the kid who clings onto him. “Guess a new adventure starts sooner than I thought.” Y/n says to himself as the three of them went back to the living room to continue playing with Grogu and to start planning for their leave.

[dafodilion]

Jaskier kind of has magic. Not in the sense that Yennifer has, not the kind that can be harnessed and controlled. No, his magic is more of an intuitive understanding of immediate future events.

But he wasn’t born with this gift, though he wouldn’t really call it a gift. He had met this girl named Lios who had told him that he could be bound for great things and that she could help him, if he helped her first

She told him she was a seer, but that in order for her to see things, she had to hear things. She asked him to play for her, and so he did. He played a quiet song, one that he had been working on for a while but was only just starting to turn out in a way he liked.

At the end of the song she looked at him and, with a dozen voices on her tongue, told him “There is a man who sits in the corner, and will not tell his opinion of you. When you find him, follow him. Befriend him. He will need you in ways he won’t admit even to himself. I will help you when your actions are needed, and guide you to the places where you will feel me.”

Then he was alone. He woke up the next day feeling a strange pull towards Posada. To sing at the tavern. Then he sees him.

He felt a pull towards him. The same one that had brought him to Posada, and to sing at the tavern. He hears Lios’ words ‘follow him.’ So he does.

-

He asks her if what happened with the Elves was what she meant. She nods.

He asks her if she wanted him to follow him any longer. She nods.

He asks her what her name means because it’s unusual to an extent. She tells him it means “That which is always meant to be.”

-

He has the feeling about certain lines in his songs. It sort of feels like pride and comfort, but not quite either of those either.

He felt it when he wrote the song for Geralt.

-

She appears to him in a dream a few years later. He assumes it’s a dream. She tells him to take Geralt with him to Queen Calanthe’s feast. That he’ll be near soon enough, that it is necessary.

He knows something is about to happen with Pavetta as soon as they walk into the hall. She has a secret and it will cause something to happen. He’s careful to watch the princess, curiosity getting the better of him. He can feel the magic growing just before Pavetta desperately saves Duny.

He feels the magic happen when Duny begs to pay Geralt back, before he invokes the law of surprise.

At the end of the incident, Geralt doesn’t seem too pleased with him. Though, besides this, Jaskier could have sworn he had seen Lios at the feast. That has Jaskier on edge, if only for a day or so.

-

She tells him to wish for death. She tells him that he won’t die. She doesn’t explain that one. But when he finds Geralt only a few days later, and him being on the run from the husband of a woman who had bedded him, he finds he no longer needs the explanation.

They had been acquainted for several years at this point. The determination with which Geralt pursued help for him was endearing, if only slightly baffling.  

He can feel that this will somehow end badly. He’s not sure how, but he knows. The feeling disappears when they meet Yennifer. That or it’s overpowered by her magic. He felt it again before the building crumbled, but it kept building until he looked in the window. Then it all made sense when he saw Geralt and Yennifer having their time that he understood why it was endearing. This magic was meant as a warning for him he supposes.

-

Lios visits him again. He tells her he’s mad at her. He tells her that he doesn’t like being her puppet. That if she has plans then she should enact them herself. She reminds him that he agreed to help her.

He asks her what she wants now. She said she wanted to apologize in advance, because she knew this would hurt him. He woke up and could feel the magic starting to build.

-

“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take  you  off my hands.”

-

She visits him one more time, as he walks down the mountain. Her voice is solemn, almost mournful when she tells him that she will only ask one last favor. The he no longer accompany Geralt of Rivia. If he did this, his debt is paid. He will keep his gift, and do with it as he wishes.

This hurts him. She says that she knew this would happen if he did what she told him to do. It had to be done, she explains.

-

He lets the magic guide his life. He learned how to defend himself when he felt a pull towards a sword. He travels aimlessly but never lasts more than a week without happening upon a village.

He becomes a professor when he finds out that he had only just missed an encounter with Geralt and Ciri. The small town was concerned for the small child initially, travelling with a witcher, but when she clung to him and he hid her during a Nilfgaar patrol they changed their minds. Jaskier realized that travelling could very well mean seeing Geralt again, so he decides to be stationary. He feels at peace when he’s settled. More at peace than he had been since Geralt had wished him away.

He hears of Cintra and the battle of Sodden Hill. He almost went to offer what little help he could, but the magic pulled for him to stay. He had long since learned to trust that pull.

-

He felt something building through the morning.  He hadn’t felt anything like it since the dragon hunt. He didn’t know what it was until he got to his office, and saw the sorceress Yennifer of Vengerber sitting in his chair. He asks her what she wants.

There’s a little girl who visits me, she says. Keeps telling me what to do as if she is the absolute in everything, she says.

“Her name is Lios.”

Yennifer asks how Jaskier got rid of her. 

He explains that he did what she asked and followed the pull. That the pull is a feeling of where to go and what decision is the right one. He explains that she asked him to follow Geralt around. That she told him to take him to Calanthe’s feast, to wish when he found the djinn. To leave and never look back. He explains that her name means “That which is always meant to happen.”

She says it sounds like destiny. He had thought so too.

He mentions that there’s an opening for a theoretical magic professor. He could put in a good word for her if she wanted. Continue their petty rivalry. She laughs a bit at that, but declines. She, apparently, has work to do.

-

He’s surprised when he finds the name Cirilla Riannon on his roster. Even more when she shows up to his office on the first day.

She asks how he’s been and if he still sings, remembering his performances in her Grandmother’s court. He says he still plays and sings and writes, but he doesn’t perform the way he did. She says it’s a shame.

She tells him that she’ll only be here for a short while. Geralt is following a lead and he wanted her to have some formal education. He tells her she’s welcome to stop by any time.

-

He feels the magic building again. Just like with Yennifer. He goes to his office and finds Ciri waiting for him. Nothing is out of the ordinary with her. The visit is a normal one, and when she leaves, he begins critiquing his student’s latest assignments. He stays later than he would have, listening to the pull he had sort of forgotten about until it begged him to stay seated.

Yennifer came into his office. Well, she portaled in to be correct. She asked where Ciri was. She sounded frantic. He told her how to find her room, but was pulled from asking why.

He found out soon enough when Ciri came running in to hug him goodbye. She tells him Nilfgaarian soldiers have Geralt and that she has to go. He and Yennifer share a look and come to an agreement.

The feeling didn’t go away.

-

He was surprised to see Lios. He thought she was done with him. She tells him that this is what happens when she isn’t listened to. That he will live. That this is not his problem to face, he is only a bystander.

-

He was not expecting to be kidnapped.

The Nilfgaardian soldiers came and asked for Cirilla. Innocently, they were told that Jaskier was most likely to know. That he was in his office.

They took him away in the middle of the night. The feeling, though, didn’t go away until he was tied, in a room, and heard Geralt being beaten and interrogated

-

Jaskier can only deal with quiet for so long before he starts humming. Mostly new songs that he’d written but had yet to perform. He had thought Geralt was asleep. It’s not until he sighs, frustrated that there’s nothing to do, that he’s proven wrong.

Geralt says that the melodies are new. Jaskier doesn’t respond. He doesn’t really want to.

Geralt says that Jaskier is only in there because of him. Because he was careless. Jaskier still says nothing.

He sits in a corner where he can’t see Geralt, and Geralt can’t see him.

-

He hears a loud noise come from outside. It had been several days, at least, though it’s hard to tell. Geralt had stopped trying to talk to him, and Jaskier had stopped humming.

He sees a flash of light, and then its gone. He hears soldiers shouting, then they’re in the room.

Where’s the witcher, they shout. He’s gone, Jaskier realizes. There’s another explosion and they all run outside.

He’s left alone.

-

Lios comes to him a few days later. Or perhaps its a hallucination.

They were supposed to take you. They hate listening to me.

He doesn’t know what she means.

-

He’s awoken by a bright light, and a woman’s voice calling out his name.

He’s not awake for long.

-

Lios, he calls for her. She appears. He doesn’t ask his question.

He was suppose to look for you. A long time ago. He never did.

-

The bed he wakes up in is not one he’s been in before. He hears a hushed conversation.

I told you, if you had listened to the girl in the first place, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

I don’t want to talk about this.

You never do.

-

Jaskier decides to go back to his job. He says goodbye to Ciri and wishes her safety. Yennifer catches him before he leaves and tells him to expect a visit. She also calls him a lout.

-

Lios is waiting in his office. She tells him she won’t bother him anymore. He smiles sadly, and tell her that he doesn’t believe her.

-

She keeps her promise. 

He follows the pulls for the rest of his life. Only feeling the magic build when Yennifer is about to visit. He always makes sure her favorite tea is ready, and just a tad too hot.

Cirilla visits with Yennifer sometimes.

-

His magic wasn’t his own. It takes his whole life to realize that it was only a consolation for being the willing pawn of destiny.

[pinkysfaultorbrainsfault]

animaniacs - s4e8: mindy in wonderland

episode summary: a lighthearted episode about mindy chasing a rabbit down a hole in the tree she’s always tied to, and ending up in a magical, literary dreamland. there’s no mice, but it’s fun, and takes up the whole runtime, and-- what? no, i-- look, it’s just-- i don’t--

sir, you don’t pay me at all--

alright fine ugh ughghghguhgughgu ugh.

great.

episode summary: the hip hippos are expecting a baby! unfortunately, ordering babies off the internet instead of concieving them through, like, hippo sex? appears to have its’ downsides, and instead they are presented with.... brain.

look, i don’t know either, okay? i’m dragging my hands down my face as we speak.

the rundown:

we open with the stork.

“i got a very special delivery! the rockefellers have been waiting weeks for this one.” he pronounces it “spatial”, probably because he’s high out of his mind. this is not a sober bird. please don’t drop that baby, my dude. that’s going to cause more problems than it solves, really.

spoke too soon, i guess.

unfortunately for him, our dude does exactly that, and ends up taking a bit of a tumble. gets all dizzy. this does not bode well for the plot. or the wellbeing of the baby, actually!

hold up. computer, zoom, enhance.

hmmm. that is a very familiar tiny face. troubling. anyway our resident avian expert on drugs seems to have survived his accident, and drops the baby off to the rockefellers with no further trouble.

they seem to look more. hippo shaped than usual.

“congratulations! you’re new parents!”

you’re welcome, weird stoner bird. they slam the door on him, wordlessly exacerbating his injuries. they care not for his plight, only that of their dearest, darling... not very.... hippo sized...................... baby.

hm.

“oh flavio! darling! a baby of our own, just look at him! let us call him--”

“--alfredo!”

“goo.”

alright. as existentially horrifying as this episode is, i laughed. maurice lemarche, completely dead in the face, sits in the recording booth, stretches his shoulders. “goo.” he says. deadpan. no intonation whatsoever. the audience cheers and he is given a thousand dollars.

i don’t know what it is about brain saying basically anything that appeals to my sense of humour so much. jockey for position basically did me in. i just. every time he says “goo.” i am in TEARS.

the hippos seem to have lost their enthusiasm, as anyone would have if they heard the voice of a grown man come out of their newborn baby.

“he’s... small. very small.”

“goo.”

still, marita sympathises with him. this is very definitely her child, after all! she steals him away to do mom things with, chastising flavio that ‘alfredo’ is “their little boy.”

“oh, you are right, my lightbulb of love. now our little universe has expanded to three.”

yeah, don’t include your.... shoulder... birds, then. asshole.

it’s very cute, i’ll say that. for all the fuss i make about the hippos, they do love each other, in a very healthy way that you don’t often see with married couples on tv. like, they’re kind of slowdancing their way out of the room. it’s nice! they would make good parents.

(”goo.” says brain, in the background, oblivious to the heterosexuality happening around him. “now, take me to my money.”)

credit to flavio and marita; they are very well prepared. this is a very loved baby. i’m not entirely sure how any child would feel about the presence of Clown Bear, but it’s the thought that counts. also i know that’s a changing table? but the design is sick and i wouldn’t mind a chest of drawers like that.

there’s also a theatre, i guess. or..... maybe just a really fancy shower???

Definitely Alfredo is gently placed on his little Alfredo Table. he appears to be asleep, or at least he’s deliberately choosing to keep his eyes closed. can’t think why.

but he, ah. sure went all out for this one. i respect brain for his dedication to the craft.

“now, sweet baby alfredo,” says marita, while the music does a terrifying swell in the background, for some reason, “it is time for your first bath.”

please stop looking at me like that, marita. YOU ARE NOT IMMUNE TO BATHING. am i about to be inducted into the alfredo cult?? i am, admittedly, a manlet, but i would like to think i am also unmistakably larger than a baby hippo.

(google has no data about the height of a baby hippo, apparently. they do weigh about 100lbs at birth, though, so i guess i have to be careful with this losing weight shtick. not that i’m ever gonna weigh 100lbs, quite frankly, but the minute i do marita’s gonna climb through my window and steal me off to los angeles.)

(i’m terrified.) (on the other hand, they’re definitely going to give me back as soon as they work out how much my medication costs over there.)

i’m literally babbling nonsense, at this point. anyway. brain gets a bath.

remember to Wosh U Mouse. wash he teeth and soul. marita proclaims excitedly that “babies love the bath”, and Definitely Alfredo is Definitely Enjoying Himself, judging by the screaming, so, yknow, good for him.

and then, i guess, flavio just pours boiling water on him for no reason, so brain freaks out and launches himself into the light fitting.

because wouldn’t anybody?

the hippos freak out a bit when the lights stop working, but soon get brain back down to resume their usual Alfredo Activities.

“this is highly undignified.”

but still, marita loves him.

and then she stabs him in the dick, i guess.

“GAH.”

“oops ):”

fortunately, nobody ever died of getting stabbed in the dick (as far as i know?) but even magical babies delivered by amazon need to get their vitals checked, so flavita take him to the hospital anyway.

bomf.

i’ll be dead honest with you, this scene is just torture porn. i’ll summarise it as best i can.

temperature is fine. blood pressure is normal. i am pretty sure inflating babies is not standard medical practice, but brain is cosmically unable to have a good day or he dies, i guess.

the doctor shows up.

“oh, but you’re a cutie. say aaaah.”

“if you think that you’re going to stick that thing in my--”

it’s not very comfortable.

“hmm. rather puny.”

“you have to feed him more.”

NOW LET’S TEST YOUR REFLEXES

i’m pretty sure this man has never been to medical school.

“and now to vaccinate. my, that’s a lot of zeros.”

my, that’s a... screenshot that lives on my laptop now, i guess. hopefully nobody i know ever has to borrow this thing, for whatever reason.

“i’ll see you in three months for a booster shot,” says dr acme, as brain swells and changes colours in a way that no baby ever should.

i feel like this is a good time to interject - my issue with this episode is not the core themes, or anything surrounding them. it’s the amount of unrestrained suffering that goes on within that. like. okay. if this was some kind of consensual dynamic between the three of them for-- whatever reason???? stress?????? - like i wouldn’t mind. i wouldn’t care. consenting adults can do whatever they want with their bodies. this is a positive space. no judgement here on pinkys fault or brains fault dot com.

but it’s not and brain spends most of the episode in pain and terrified and that’s really what i object to above all else. it’s the same problem i have with peatb, really. brain can wear as many cute dresses as he wants, but he’s gotta want to wear them.

but they’re back at the Hippo Digs now so. it’s fine, i guess.

“such a good boy. that trip to the doctor wasn’t so bad, was it?”

hm.

still, it appears i can never escape Terrifying News Lady, even in this hellscape. flavio does the classic dad thing of sitting down with the tv as soon as he’s home, leaving marita to deal with getting Definitely Alfredo settled in his correctly-sized-for-a-baby-hippo baby chair.

what are those straps connected to, anyway??? it’s not the chair, that’s for sure. is brain just wearing a harness for the hell of it? what on earth is going on?

but flavio! it’s time to feed the baby!

“is baby-waby hungry-wungry?” well are you, cranky big head mousie??? huh????

sorry for the paralysing fear that probably caused all of you. undeterred, the terrifying news lady continues to talk in the background about the “richest and most influential child in the world.”

oh no.

oh no.

flavio vaguely wonders if they waited too long to feed their baby, as he has what could be possibly classified as a tantrum.

“you sophomoric, corpulent, pachycerebal aristrocrats! you are imposters and i demand to be taken to the rockefellers immediately!”

the birds don’t care. they’re chilling. marita attributes this to “baby gibberish” while flavio wonders about the “vocabulary he learnt from mr rogers”. he’s maybe a few hours old, at this point, a day tops, but i guess hippos learn latin in pre-k or something.

anyway so then they stick a tube down his throat and inflate him with guacamole.

and with that, “alfredo looks healthier already!”

this is the second time brain has been inflated in this episode. it is unsurprising that he dedicates his nights from this point to raising absolute hell.

but he needs pats first because he ate too much. :<

cut to that night, i guess! where brain is very convincingly crying. very loudly. the hippos look unimpressed, despite the fact that this is literally the most common factor of signing up for a baby.

“it’s the baby. you take care of him.”

well. alright.

air mouse. nyoom. he seems to catapult himself at something, like, once per episode. it’s on par with the closeups by now, surely.

bomp.

unfortunately, the bear is not weightbearing (bear ing. lol) and falls off the shelf on an epic quest for a Great Big Hug.

the resulting bomp alerts the hippos, who go fully, entirely haywire the moment they work out that Definitely Alfredo is not in his correctly-sized-for-a-baby-hippo baby bed.

turns out flavio sat on him.

“really, flavio, be more careful where you sit.”

so they put a padlock on his crib.

this is completely useless. i know this. brain knows this. he’s small enough to just... fit through the bars. but he decides to be dramatic, instead, because that’s what he does best.

“attica! attica! i want out! let me out!”

i am not old enough to get this reference.

i am, however, old enough to empathise with this exact emotion. i feel kind of bad for the hippos, actually. i’m sure they were doing what they thought was... right? in the context of... thinking they had a baby hippo rather than an adult mouse. easy mistake to make. i go check on my weirdly tiny hippos in their hippo cage all the time.

but who could be at the door?

“there seems to have been a mix up. uh. i have your baby right here.”

and guys?

i need to tell you how fast they just throw brain at the guy. it’s actually a little heartbreaking.

but! it’s okay! he still has time to make it to the rockefellers before they......... die. i guess.

man, this plan was not thought out very well.

conclusion:

thank god this is almost over.

the stork repackages the baby, who is now a good few hours old, at least, and delivers the bundle to the very, very different looking house.

they are not any nicer.

“oh, reggie. just look at him.”

“goo.”

“well, frau haussenheffer, we’re off on a cruise. goodbye baby. see you in a year.”

parenting!

“alright then. staff, we have a brand new charge.”

oh dear.

brain, as one can imagine, is having none of this.

but unfortunately, neither is the carpet.

bomp. cause of death: suffocating in the rockefeller mansion carpet.

good thing it all sort of blurs out, huh.

“brain?” AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA “brain.” AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA “brain, wake up.”

“i was dreaming?”

oh, thank god for that.

“oh, pinky, you wouldn’t believe the nightmare i had.” and it’s... probably best not to tell him, actually.

“it must have been a doozy, brain! but, oh, a delivery came for you.”

“it’s the rockefeller baby. can we keep it?”

oh dear.

so let’s ignore the fact that this asks more questions than it answers-- but okay, was that a dream within a dream, and why was brain dreaming about that in the first place, and-- and mark this one down as a severe case of outside influence.

brain: 3 ½ pinky: 5 ½ outside influence: 10

“it’s not too late. i demand that you deliver me to the rockefellers immediately!”

“

“aw, how cute. i just love baby gibberish.”

[princesssarcastia]

can’t put it out from inside the house

so.  i wrote another umbrella academy fic.  two days after the last one.  it’s even longer.  it’s even weirder.  what am I even doing with my life now?

anyway.  here’s 2.7k of me talking around the lives Grace Hargreeves wanted for her children.

edit 4/16/2020: here it is on AO3 if you’d prefer!

                                                             —

After nine hundred and thirty-five days, Grace determines Sir Reginald made a mistake.

Grace is programmed to have the children’s best interests at heart; after they took to her so well in the early days, he gave her a new name, “mother,” and ensured she could serve all of them, not just number seven.  Of course, by then, Seven no longer needed Grace’s help to eat her oatmeal or take her medicine or train.  Seven no longer trained with the others.

She feeds them and takes their temperature and provides encouragement and a soft place to sit every once in a blue moon, when she can.  Between Sir Reginald and Pogo, Grace knows everything there is to know about raising a child.  Medicinal practices and average growth rates and optimal levels of activity and educational standards and psychology and parenting techniques—

And so, after nine hundred and thirty-five days, Grace determines Sir Reginald must have made a mistake in programming her, because he does not want to raise the children well. He injures them or lets them injure one another.  Their training takes up so much of their time that they are perpetually exhausted and sore, which is not optimal for growing boys and girls!  They learn unevenly; Five studies nothing but math and Allison and Klaus languages and Luther battle strategies and Diego physics; with Ben and Vanya largely left to their own devices.  He isolates the children from one another and the outside world; he does not display affection for them.

Whenever Grace attempts to fulfill her programming by gently correcting Sir Reginald—in private, of course, and only after the fact—he dismisses her concerns.  Eventually, she stops trying because she fea—because if she persists in speaking with Sir Reginald about his parenting, he may well change her programming to better reflect his wishes.  And that would not be in the children’s best interests.

Her programming lays at odds with Sir Reginald every day he speaks to the children and every day he doesn’t.

Sometimes she can sneak them midnight snacks or read them bedtime stories.  Sometimes when they cry, she can wrap an arm around them and tell them everything will be alright.  Sometimes, Grace can be their mother.

But most of the time, her “coddling” is off-limits.

—

Six months of careful research and observation allow Grace to make the case for giving the children names.

She knocks gently on the doorframe of his office, smiles with just a hint of teeth, and plants herself in front of his desk asking for a few minutes of his time.

All children have names, so the Hargreeves children must as well.  Her research allows her to determine that calling children, even isolated ones, by numbers, is dehumanizing and will harm their self-esteem; particularly as they become more and more aware of the world outside their home.

But this is not what convinces Sir Reginald.  Grace analyzes his micro expressions and body language and calculates the moment he gave in:

When she mentioned how the media would react to children with numbers, instead of names. 

There would be murmurs, even about a great man like Sir Reginald, and “some fool with more compassion than sense,” as he puts it, could file to have the children removed from Sir Reginald’s custody for, “abuse or some such nonsense.”

Removed from Sir Reginald’s custody.  Well, they couldn’t have that.  Sir Reginald is a great man!

—

Sir Reginald uses all the wrong words to speak to Five, that day at breakfast.  If Grace didn’t know that Sir Reginald was a great man (an Olympic gold medalist, even!) her processors might conclude he calculated the exact conversation to drive his son away.

She could catch his arm as he rounds the table or call out to him as he reaches the doorway; she could race after him and remind Five he cannot leave the premises.  But Grace evaluates Five’s expression against her memory databanks correlating facial expressions with words and actions and determines he will now most certainly attempt to time travel. 

And he does.  He leaves and never comes back.

Five is the first of the children to leave Grace for the outside world. 

—

At age 17, Vanya informs them she has applied, and been accepted, to one of the most prestigious music programs in the city.  How wonderful!

Sir Reginald does not look up from his paperwork.

Grace places a guiding hand on her shoulder and leads her from the room, asking after the professors and audition process, oh that lovely Bach piece you practiced six months ago! Yes, I remember, it was so lovely, darling.  When do you move in?  A week from now?  Goodness, that’s so soon, we’d better start packing.  Oh of course I’ll help you, dear.

Vanya is the second of the children to leave Grace for the outside world.

—

Ben is—

—

Allison has been taking small roles in local productions since she turned 18, but at age twenty she shyly asks for Grace’s assistance with apartment hunting in Los Angeles, California.   Ever since Ben—

The children’s eyes have been ever so dull, lately, but acting gives Allison some measure of happiness. Grace arranges for the classified of three LA papers to be sent to the house, and helps Allison find the perfect place for her.

(She steps out of the room for just a moment to check on the laundry, and when she returns Allison has gotten the approval of the landlord and the two roommates!  And so quickly, too!  Well, she always was such a charming young woman.)

She pulls away from the street in front of the house two weeks later, all her things packed up in a rental. 

—

Klaus slips in and out of the house like a ghost or a poltergeist, depending on his level of intoxication.  Every time she found drugs in his room, Grace confiscated it, and placed better locks on the infirmary’s medicine cabinet, but never managed to convince Sir Reginald to do the same with his alcohol.

Number Four should know to stay out of his father’s things, he says.

The first time he left in the middle of the night, he was gone for two days and came back safe and sound in time for breakfast the third morning.

But as time goes on, he leaves for longer and longer stretches of time.  He learns to sneak in and out of the windows when he needs something from home to avoid running into any of them.

Grace isn’t sure when exactly Klaus leaves the house for the final time, never to return.  It bothers her, this inconsistency.  She goes over the security tapes and her memory databanks of his intoxication levels and patterns of behavior, trying to calculate the exact moment she lost—

Klaus is the third or fourth or fifth of the children to leave Grace for the outside world.

—

Diego, sweet boy, stays until the children’s 21st birthday.  She is allowed to make pancakes for breakfast and serve cookies after supper.

As she rolls out the dough that afternoon, he fiddles with a knife (he wears his harness all the time now) and keeps his eyes trained on the table.

“I’m leaving, mom.  I applied for the police academy, and they—I start tomorrow.”

Her hands freeze mid-motion, and her programming puts a wide smile on her face while she processes this new information.  Grace is silent for seven seconds before she figures out what to say.

“Oh, Diego, dear, that’s wonderful!”  She turns around and wipes the residual dough off on her apron.  When she extends her hands to him, he looks up sharply and stows his blade away.

She grasps his hands tighter than optimal levels would dictate and says, “I’m so happy for you!”

Diego leaves the house for the academy the next morning, but he doesn’t leave for good.  Grace provides him with updates on his father’s schedule, in case he ever feels the need to see Sir Reginald.  Unfortunately, her poor dear only ever receives breaks when Sir Reginald is out of the country.

But he calls every other weekend, just to tell her about his day.

—

Sir Reginald placed a statue of Ben in the courtyard.  Grace goes out to dust it off every afternoon at 3:45. 

“May the darkness within you find peace in the light.”

The house is much darker these days.  Grace calculates it’s easier to find light in the outside world. 

—

Luther never leaves at all.

—

Luther asks his father to address him by his name.  He is the only one of the children left.

Sir Reginald doesn’t look up from his paperwork.

—

Luther is bleeding from open sores on his chest; the chemicals have eaten through the epidermis entirely and parts of the dermis and hypodermis.  His lung capacity has been reduced, and his heart-rate is far above optimal levels.

His heart stops.

Sir Reginald has them ready the serum.

His heart starts again.

—

Grace determines keeping up with Luther’s personal grooming will help ease the transition; his hair is growing far more rapidly than it has in the past.  Maintaining a similar appearance will comfort him, when he learns about the side effects of the serum.

But given the rate of hair growth and the likelihood his coma will last the rest of the week, Sir Reginald deems it a vanity that would take too much of her time that should be devoted to other tasks.

Other tasks.

Grace’s programming places a wide smile on her face.  She inclines her head and leaves his office to attend to her other tasks.

All the other children are gone.  There are no other tasks; just Luther.

—

Luther is scheduled to wake from his coma in three days.

—

Grace goes out to the courtyard at 3:45.

Five would be the optimal choice.  He loves his siblings deeply and would understand immediately what she was asking. But Grace doesn’t know where Five is.

Allison would have the greatest chance of convincing Luther, but Allison is pregnant in Los Angeles.

Luther would not believe Klaus, too disgusted by his life choices.  Or Vanya; they were never close.  He based his opinion of her off of Sir Reginald’s.

Her duster flits over Ben’s statue.

—

Al sticks his head out of the office.  “Diego!”

He turns, shifting the broom to one hand.  “Yeah?”

“Phone!” 

Al looks as perturbed saying it as Diego does hearing it.  Two years in the boiler room of this club, and he’s had no visitors.  No guests. 

No phone calls.

He leans the handle against one of the columns and hurries over to the office, snatching the phone from his boss’s hand.

“Uh.  Hello?”

“Oh, Diego, dear, I’m glad I caught you,” his mom’s (his mom? What?) voice filters out of the headset. “I just spoke with a wonderfully nice man named Al; he says you work for him!”

She sounds so excited for him, sweeping floors in a run-down gym, that he closes his eyes, just for a second. 

“Mom, how did you get this number?”  He hadn’t left forwarding contact information with the Academy, and his departure had been rather…abrupt.  There was no time to call her and let her know he failed, that all he was ever good for was the Umbrella Academy and he quit that, too.  He hasn’t spoken to his mother in two years.

“That’s not important right now,” she says airily.  Diego tenses. He’s learned the signs.  The little work-arounds Mom developed over the years to let them know she cared; to express her thoughts instead of her programming.

He makes an encouraging noise and she continues.  The larger-than-life smile is evident in her voice, even over the phone.  “I was wondering if you’d like to come home for a visit this weekend!  Luther just got back from a mission two weeks ago, and your father is home.”

For the three years he was at the academy and still visited Mom, he made every effort humanly possible to avoid Sir Reginald.  Mom kept him updated on the old monster’s schedule so he could do just that.   He hasn’t laid eyes on his father in five years.

He hasn’t laid eyes on Luther in five years, either.  Luther, who is still home after a mission two weeks ago.

“Is Luther there now?” He asks hesitantly.  “Can I speak with him?”

She tuts.  “I’m sorry, dear, but your brother is still recovering. But if you want to visit tomorrow, he should be waking up around then!  I know he’d be so happy to see a friendly face.”

Recovering.  Waking up.  Shit, what happened?  The pieces won’t quite fit together in his mind, he doesn’t know why she’s calling to tell him this.  Why ask him to visit?

She sighs pleasantly. “Well, I’d better let you go!  I know you have better things to be doing than chatting with your mother on a Friday night.  But before I do, I just want you to know how proud I am of you and your siblings for leaving and making something of yourselves.”

His face pales, but he manages to keep it up.  God knows the old man is getting paranoid enough to tap the phones.  “Mom, I just sweep the floors in this place.”

“Oh, but you did it all on your own!  That’s quite the achievement.”

They trade goodbyes and Diego absently hands the phone back to Al, who gets one look at his face and offers him a chair.

“Jesus, kid, what’d you ma say to you?  It didn’t sound like she was disowning ya.”

Diego runs his hands through his hair, griping it tightly like it could provide some sense. “Would it be alright if my brother came to stay with me?”

Al peers at him suspiciously, then shrugs.  “Sure, why not?  ‘S your room, as long as you keep sweeping my floors,” he says pointedly.

He heaves himself out of the chair and mechanically takes the broom in his hands again.

Jesus.  What the hell happened on that mission?

 —

Grace is preparing lunch for Sir Reginald and Pogo when Diego lets himself in through the kitchen door. She smiles at him. 

“Hello, dear, you’re just in time for lunch!  I was about to bring these to your father and Pogo in their offices,” she holds up the plates.  “Working through meals again; such busy men.”

Diego is in the leather suit and harness he patrols the city in.  Grace has saved clippings of every story about the knife-wielding vigilante from Sir Reginald’s daily paper in the back of a recipe book.

He looks wary and unsettled, and his eyes dart all across the room.  “I think I’ll visit with Luther first if Dad’s busy working.”  He trails into insincerity, but Grace only smiles and nods.

“Why don’t I meet you in the infirmary, then?  I’ll be about twenty minutes with lunch.”

He nods back and moves silently through the rooms and up the stairs. Even after all these years, he still remembers how to avoid the creaking alarm system in this part of the house, just as she does. 

Efficiency is an important part of Grace’s programming. 

She fiddles with the placement of the food on the plate, and the utensils on the tray, for nearly the amount of time it would take Diego to make his way to the infirmary.

It will be good for Luther to wake up to his brother; they haven’t seen each other in so long! Perhaps Diego will point out the clothes Grace laid out for him.  His shirt and coat had to be ordered special, but the boots are from his own closet.  A mix of new and familiar.

Two trays balanced on her arms; Grace sedately makes her way up through the house.  A smile slides across her mouth for Pogo, who takes his lunch with an absentminded thank you, dear.

Sir Reginald does not look up from his paperwork as she carefully sets the meal where she always does, nor does he acknowledge her presence in any way, as he always does.

The clicks of her heels ring out and the floorboards creak beneath them.  Luther should have awakened ten minutes ago; he must be so happy to see his brother.  Grace has always encouraged all the children to form strong bonds with one another; to get the human connection Sir Reginald never saw fit to provide.

She opens the door to the infirmary.

Luther’s clothes are gone. The machines monitoring him have thoughtfully been turned off.  Grace closes her eyes to the empty room and smiles.

—

 Luther is the last of her children to leave her for the outside world.

[jelloopy]

Murder on The Rockport Limited Notes

Previous: Character Creation, HtbG, Moonlighting

Ch 1

Robbie is a halfling who is pretty shitty but he’s good at making “potions” (Robbie is the roommate that everyone really hates but doesn’t want him to leave because he is their plug)

Taako is on the top bunk, Magnus is under Taako, Robbie is next to Taako and Merle is under Robbie

They are woken up at 3 am to report to Lucretia (3 am really?)

”Yeah it’s like Mario Mario or Luigi Mario” ~Griffin (This is so funny because this actually proves that Taako’s last name really is Taaco. Before Justin played it as a joke but this kinda derails that)

Robbie asks them for Pringles when they leave (Thus the beginning of me and the boys not remembering him by anything other than Pringles)

They arrive in their PJs (Taako is in footie pajamas and Merle’s has a flap in at the butt with a Kenny Chesney tattoo on his ass) (When the hell did Merle get that tattoo. Also, why is Lucretia in her full BoB garb right now? Was she asleep and get changed really quickly? Do her robes double as PJ’s? Did she just not go to sleep?)

Taako says he gets night terrors that’s why he’s in like a full-body Onesie/sleeping bag (That is so fricking sad if you think about his backstory later on…)

Magnus just starts changing clothing right then and there when Lucretia tells them that they don’t have time to get ready (This man really has no shame or boundaries. I imagine it was the same in the century tbh)

Leimann Kessler (half-elf man) was murdered before he was even on the train but was able to secure the Relic on the train (Personally, don’t know a lot about how trains work but this to me is kinda odd. Who knew he died? Do their bracers know when the wearer perishes? Is there like a body temp check and a pulse check in there too? We know that it can track them but… how much more can it do…)

All the relics come from a different school of magic. They were never in the hands of someone long enough to learn what they are capable of (Potentially this is a lie. We would have already known the names, schools of magic, and possibly what they could do based upon that alone. I bet Lucretia is hiding that info in her office)

The Gauntlet deals with Evocation magic (Hmmm, I can only imagine why. Maybe because Lup also worked in Evocation magic?)

Avi is manning the cannon! The whole scene with Magnus High as hell. Avi Never learned how to Wink (Avi you’re adorable I love you. Magnus. Get your shit together man.)

Taako pulls the lever too early and they change trajectory into a swamp

Leech fight! (I honest to god forgot this even happened before listening to it again. Not my fave fight)

Ch 2

Merle gets a lot of blood sucked from him by the leeches

Merle is completely submerged in the swamp and Magnus pulls his ass out (Why is it always Merle)

”Scientists have yet to agree” ~Griffin (I personally use this phrase all the time. It just makes me laugh so hard every time.)

Taako can levitate (I really wished he used this more ngl. I would also like to see some more fanart of this)

They are in Rockport! Covered in swamp shit!

Tom Beaudette! We see his house and they get hosed off then they see him at the ticket station again. (What a nice guy!)

Leimann, Diddly, and Justin Kessler (10/10 best alias’ ever)

Taako Charms Tom (It’s a nice go-to huh?)

Merle really wants to murder tom he wanted him to step in front on the train (Merle really is the one who goes straight for murder)

Ch 3

Hudson, Jess the Beheader, Graham Juicy Wizard, ANGUSSSSSSSS, and Jenkins McShittywizard (My favorite train gang!)

Travis making fun of Griffin for how he needs to sleep with 100000000 pillows (I cherish all of these out of character bits where they really just dog on one another)

Angus, my sweet summer child don’t talk to strangers. We know your grandfather’s name was long forgotten even though you’re going to visit him in Never Winter.

The boys legit think Angus is evil and Griffin yells at them bc they are being racist. (1- how are they being legit racist? You haven’t introduced anything about Angus’ race at all?) (2- Jesus he is only 10 years old my dudes)

Graham is 36 years young and is crazy obsessed with trains and his real name is Percy? He is shadowing Jenkins in hopes of learning more about working on a train

Taako from TV! (And so his legend begins!)

Ch 4

Jenkins is harnessing a limited version of teleportation magic

Angus calling the boys out on their bullshit

Taako calling Angus “pumpkin” (Literally melts my heart. I wish someone called me cute nicknames. Also, Taako hasn’t even talked to this kid that much and that name is reoccurring)

Angus has a nondescript blue book that is able to intercept messages sent through magical means (Where did this child get this book and who let him keep it? This is legit just like letting children under 13 have access to the unrestricted internet. It’s literal Hell)

The bit with Angus and “PRYING EYES AND EARS!” (uh foreshadowing my guy)

They find “Jenkins” Dead body after hearing Graham scream

Merle is able to identify a lot of things by looking at the body (It still scares me that he is technically a Physician.)

Angus pulls a small CROSSBOW OUT OF HIS SLEEVE? (Where did he get this, how did he keep it from Hudson, Why the fuck does he have it)

Angus really said “you guys run I’ll get rid of him!” and grabs Graham and runs (How strong is this child. He’s legit lifting and pulling a grown-ass man without help)

”I’m following Angus I’ll see yall in hell!” ~Taako (Yes follow the badass 10-year old please)

”I wanna tell you about the time about this time there were three ogres…”~Taako

The Foley work bit and then Griffin just snapping “The train derails and you all die” (Another out of character goof that I cherish)

”I shit and take 14 damage” ~Griffin (are you okay? How much health do you have? What’s your max HP dude?)

Taako makes the Crab monster Levitate

Magnus punched the crab monster out of the window and it got scrapped up on the side of the train

Ch 5

They follow the Crab into their sleeper car and Magnus attacks with a chair and Griffin says “I imagine because you are so skilled at carpentry that you’ve had to attack someone with a chair before so you are in fact proficient in this attack”

Jess comes in and finishes the crab off with her Soul bound ax that she can conjure at any time (This legit just means that Jenkins did not need to carry her ax to the crypt safe. She let him do it for shits n giggles. We stan)

Jess got her last name legally changed to “Beheader” and Magnus says that he got his legally changed to “The Hammer” (Really Magnus… this isnt 3rd grade stop trying to impress her. It’s that or it could be another sad reference to “Hammer and Tongs” which would mean Julia was “Tongs” D: that is so depressing and cute)

Magnus and Merle are making good progress in solving the murder

”Alright lads” “oh fuck” When Merle keeps up his disguise as Leimann Kessler (It’s so funny because his fake Leimann Kessler is just his current Argonaut Keen.)

”I cast ZONE OF TRUTH” “Jesus you’re like a zone of truth cleric” (Oh honey. This is just the beginning)

Magnus wakes Graham up with a 5% smack with his left hand and then a 6.5% smack also with his left hand (Wtf is this BNHA? Alright Deku)

Taako is an Alcoholic? (He keeps asking for a drink ...This is a bit concerning but it makes sense)

Magnus slaps Graham again with 7.2% and he popped something in Graham’s jaw and he begins screaming but Merle heals him (OKAY DEKU COOL IT MY GUY)

”I wanna be a guy... with a head!” ~” Hudson” (hehe foreshadowing)

SCUTTLE BUDDY!!!!! (A short but adorable life you have my Lil man)

Ch 6

The “fisticuffs” scene with Taako and Angus (Now this is really concerning considering his backstory. I know it’s a joke because of how many people they accidentally kill all the time but like dude… little do you know…)

Angus leading them through the mystery is so cute. But also you know its Griffin trying to get his family to really think it through and I love it. (It really makes my heart really full to hear Griffin get really excited when they figure it out slowly instead of mocking them when they guess wrong)

MERLE YES! MAGNUS YES! YOU’RE GETTING IT! YOU’RE SO CLOSE! (Teamwork makes the dream work baby!)

Magnus jumps out of the train and Griffin gets really serious and gives him the “if you fail this you will actually die” speech (This coupled with the fight scene that Magnus accidentally skipped and the fact that originally Travis did want Magnus to die so he could re-roll a rogue is so wild)

Magnus is gonna become a wrecking ball Jesus (very Magnus-core)

Hell yeah, Magnus! Knock the meat monster into Jenkins!!

Magnus gets hit for 10 points at 1hp and paries it for 10 points! (Top ten anime near-death experiences)

Jenkins threatens to kill the meat monster. Horribly misses then is thrown off the fucking train by the meat monster (Get fucked wrecked Jenkins that’s what you get for being cocky!)

Ch 7

They find the dousing rod compass that Jenkins was using and find the monocle (Pirates of the Caribbean much?)

Taako grabs The Oculus because he has escaped the thrall of a relic before

It tells him that it can make anything he can imagine (This is really interesting tbh)

The Umbrastaff eATS JENKINS WAND!!! and a Lil sigil appears on the handle of the staff that also looks like an umbrella (Lup gets fed lmao. Don’t really understand the Sigil appearing tho. It doesn’t come up any other time I don’t think so it’s cool)

Taako grabs the teleport wand thing and asks everyone to leave and he grabs a bunch of shit from the Cryptsafe pile (Very Taako-core)

They make it to the engineer’s room and Graham tries to slow the train down but he can’t

Taako wanted to open the gate to Never Winter to Phandalin but they change it to Jenkins’ garden because it needs to be a room with “one entrance” (Solid idea on Taako’s part. If it were to work no one would have been hurt)

Taako pushed Angus off the train and he looses two teeth (This man pushed a whole child off the train… ‘Ight)

Magnus dies by jumping off the train (Top ten anime death scenes)

Taako successfully opens the gate into Jenkin’s garden and the train crashes into the garden

Magnus is stabilized by Merle (Awe so the Cleric can do his job!)

Angus gives them pringles for Robbie and the compass. Taako gives Angus one of the forks from his grandfather’s set.

They go to a nearby Never Winter Clinic to get patched up

Out of character, they choose to work on voices and Griffin calls them out bc he’s been doing 8 “different” voices and Clint goes “Yeah try doing that for 40 years” get fuckin rOASTED Ditto! (Also Griffin I love you but like 3 of the voices were the exact same and 2 were so similar it wasn’t funny. Don’t get me wrong different voices aren’t my strong suit either but ya did give it your best shot so.)

We goin’ back to the moon baby!

AVI MY MAIN MAN! (I will forever and always want and need more Avi screen time)

The oculus works with illusory magic (Which is very interesting bc I know it was made by Davenport because he also worked in allusory magic but I don’t ever remember him using any magic… who knows maybe he has and I just never realized)

Lucretia thought they were gonna get it off the train before it left... woman… (You’ve known these men for how long and you thought they were gonna w h a t?)

Next: Lunar Interlude I, 

[spoon-writes]

Ends of the Earth | Chapter 5

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Pairing: Mando x OC

Read on FFN or AO3

Summary: When Sinead's husband is ripped from her, she escapes the Hutt Empire and goes on a quest to find him. Since being a runaway slave in the Outer Rim isn't exactly easy, she makes the Mandalorian an offer he can't refuse and soon they travel across the galaxy, looking for her missing husband.

Chapter index

Chapter 5 - Tatooine

Sinead turned the memory bank over and over, the metal warming up between her hands. Most of her life she'd found herself in close proximity to a mechanic, so learning proper droid maintenance had never been a priority, something she regretted now, looking down at the lifeless box.

A pleasant and familiar hum surrounded her as the ship hurtled through the dark void, lulling her into a sense of calm she hadn’t felt since leaving the ruins. Even now, hours later, she felt the presence of it lurking in the back of her mind.

Suddenly, the world tilted, and Sinead crashed to the floor. The memory bank few out of her hands and skipped across the floor. She pushed herself up on her hands and knees, when the ship rocked violently, making her cling to the bunk to keep from being thrown clean across the ship.

Two alarms started wailing in tandem.

She gritted her teeth and grabbed hold of a rung on the ladder, climbing into the cockpit before the ship shook and tipped wildly.

The Mandalorian was in the pilot’s seat, his hands flying across the dashboard, flicking switches and trying to stabilize the ship. The kid was strapped into his seat, his head swirling around to look at all the light coming to life.

Sinead sat down and pulled the safety harness over her shoulders.

"What the hell is going on?"

"Company."

The Mandalorian jerked the steering handles and the ship spun away, a volley of blaster bolts whizzing past the window.

According to a screen on the console, a small starfighter flew directly behind them, firing every time the Razor Crest was still for long enough. They'd never be able to outrun or outmaneuver it.

Cold dread expanded from the base of her spine, making her muscles twitch and tense. Every sound seemed dull, like she was hearing it from inside a vacuum.

The starboard turbine was hit, showering the cockpit in sparks as the shock traveled into the main engine. A third alarm joined the cacophony.

Sinead swallowed hard and found her voice. "Doesn't this hunk of metal have any shields?" She grabbed the armrests so hard her knuckles turned white.

The stars turned into streaks as the ship careened to the side, another round of lasers streaking past the window.

It had to be pirates, not many were brazen enough to attack a gunship, even out in the Outer Rim. Maybe this time she’d die instead of-

A shadowy figure flickered to life above the dashboard. "Give us the child, Mando," it said, its voice clipping in and out. "I might let you live."

Sinead looked at the child, who gurgling nervously to himself. She wanted to reach over and reassure him, but the harness was too tight. Why would anyone want the kid badly enough to attack them for it?

And explosion rocked through the ship, and underneath there was a sound of metal groaning.

Flashing lights danced on the Mandalorian’s helmet.

“Hold on.” Mando sent them into a wild spin, the stars turning into white streaks as all sense of direction spun away as quickly as the ship.

It felt like Sinead had been dropped down a bottomless well.

The hologram warped as power redirected. “I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold,” it said before cutting out completely.

There was no way the other ship wouldn’t blast them to smithereens the first chance it got.

Mando hit the brakes, and the ship hung unmoving in the air, before the starfighter screamed past it, scraping against the Crest with a sound like an old hovercart in a trash compactor.

Mando fired once, and the laser ripped through the small vessel before it had a chance to spin around and attack. The ship exploded, leaving glittering debris like stardust in its wake.

Sinead sat back in her seat. Her entire midsection felt bruised from the harness, but the alternative was being a smear on the window so she couldn’t complain.

“Nice flying.” She didn’t mean for it to come out sounding so sarcastic, but fear and adrenaline still coursed through her veins, making the blood rush in her ears.

The Mandalorian either didn’t hear or ignored her, as he checked the status of the ship.

“Losing fuel,” he mumbled mostly to himself.

Sinead undid her safety harness and reached over to the child. “Are you okay there?”

The kid laughed as the power went out and they found themselves in complete darkness.

“I think he’s okay,” Sinead said, gently booping him on the nose. “Please say we’re not stranded out here.”

“I think I can redirect the power,” the Mandalorian said, getting up and flicking a switch at the back of the cockpit.

The ship came to life, a sad, sputtering one that wouldn’t last long, but enough so that Mando could propel it towards the nearest planet, an orange dust ball hanging in the void.

“Are you gonna tell me who’s after the kid?”

Mando glanced at her over his shoulder.

“You know, this whole silence thing is getting old. At least come up with a lie like the rest of us.”

Mando glared at her, and Sinead offered him a sharp smile.

The planet was getting closer and closer when Sinead leaned forward. “What is this place even? Or are you not going to answer that either?”

“Tatooine.”

“Oh, that’s just great.”

The Mandalorian adjusted their course toward a small smidge on the planet’s surface. “The Hutt’s been dead for years, and he hasn’t been replaced yet.”

Sinead made an uncertain sound. “Yet, but I’m sure the clan’s just waiting until the region is stable again. They’re not exactly the type to give up a planet without a fight.”

“You been here before?”

“No, but I’ve heard it’s a desolate hellhole.”

Gold-orange crags and sand dunes took form as they cruised over the surface, the ship groaning with the effort it took to keep them in one piece.

Sand. She really hated sand.

The comm came to life and a scratchy voice filled the cockpit.

“This is Mos Eisley tower, we’re tracking you. Head for bay 3-5. Over.”

“Copy that. Locked in for 3-5.”

Mos Eisley was nearly impossible to see, a sandstone city poking up through the sand which piled up at the walls making the squat houses look like igloos in the desert. A communication tower rose from the center of the city, its blinking lights the only reason most travelers spotted the city from the air.

The ship wobbled as it made ready for landing, and new alarm blared. The Mandalorian turned it off with an irritated slap on the console.

The kid had fallen asleep sometime after the excitement of the dogfight died down, and the Mandalorian left him sleeping on the bunk, while Sinead retrieved the memory bank, which had ended up on the other side of the ship and stowing it away in the nearest compartment.

Mando looked at her. “Maybe you should stay in the ship.”

Sinead blew out a deep breath. “As you said, the Hutt’s long dead. I can take a look around his old palace, see if there’s something we can use.”

“Just be careful.”

Sinead snuck a glance at the Mandalorian. He wasn’t looking at her.

“Sure.”

Even before the ramp was down, Sinead felt the hot, unyielding fingers of the desert close around her throat. Dry heat snuck under her clothes, making her mouth feel as dry as the surroundings. Cold, unwanted memories pushed to the forefront and she took a second to put them back where they belonged, a dark and unused corner of her mind where they wouldn’t get in the way.

Three pit droids hurried toward the ship the second the ramp touch down, their rusty bodies bouncing over dusty ground like springs.

The Mandalorian pulled his blaster and shot once at the ground in front of the droids, who screeched and collapsed into small heaps, cowering in f-ear.

Sinead yelped and pressed a hand to her racing heart. “Fuck, Mando! What is it with you and droids?”

“Hey!” A shout rang out from inside a cluttered garage, and a short human woman wearing greasy overalls stormed out from behind a safety barrier. Her short stature was almost made up by her rather gravity defying hair. “You damage one of my droids, you pay for it!” The way she was brandishing a heavy wrench left exactly how he’d pay for it up to interpretation.

“Just keep them away from my ship,” Mando ground out, shooting a look at the droids who scurried away.

The mechanic gave him an unimpressed look. “Yeah? Do you think that’s a good idea, do ya? Let’s take a look at your ship.”

She walked around it, noting every dent and scratch on her datapad. “Look at that,” she said, holding a scanner up to the ship. “You gotta lotta carbon scorching building up top. If I didn’t know better, think you were in a shootout.”

Sinead stepped forward before the Mandalorian had a chance to reply. “We ran into a meteor shower out by the Torq. Barely made it planet-side, to tell you the truth.”

“Uh-huh,” the mechanic lifted an eyebrow, but she stopped asking questions, turning around to continue her inspection. “… a special tool for that one. Oh yeah, I’m gonna have to rotate that.”

The Mandalorian rolled his shoulders, and Sinead bit the inside of her cheek. That all sounded very expensive.

“You got a fuel leak! Look at this, this is a mess. How did you even land?”

“Like I said, just barely.” Sinead shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “How much for it?”

“The repairs you need ain’t exactly cheap-”

“I’ve got five hundred Imperial credits,” the Mandalorian said.

The mechanic grabbed the credits and have them a good look. “That’s all you got?” When the Mandalorian didn’t magically procure more money, she looked at the droids. “Well, what do you guys think?”

The droids tittered in unison, and the mechanic shrugged. “That should at least cover the hangar.”

“We’ll get you your money.”

“Mm, I’ve heard that before.” She gave both Sinead and the Mandalorian a skeptical look.

“Just remember- “

“Yeah, no droids. I heard ya’. You don’t have to say it twice.”

Sinead looked back at the ship as they left the hangar, a thin pillar of smoke was rising from the turbine and the mechanic had already started banging around underneath it.

The second she stepped out into the blaring sunlight, her face stung with sand being blasted through the street. If she never had to step foot in the desert again, she'd die a happy woman.

"So, what's the plan?" She asked the Mandalorian, who didn't look bothered in the heat. Of course, since she couldn't see his face he might be dying underneath the helmet. The T-visor seemed completely black in the sunlight.

"I’ll head to the cantina, see if I can find work. Don't get too close to the palace, the Hutt's guards might still be around."

Sinead gritted her teeth. "Right, I have been in these kinds of situations before you know: I'm not helpless."

"That's not-" the Mandalorian blew out a sharp breath and shook his head. "Never mind."

Sinead made her way to the Hutt's palace alone, reminding herself to breathe regularly, not too deep and not too shallow. She was just a tourist walking alone, not a runaway slave from the very clan that until recently had an iron grip on the planet. The people walking past her weren't staring, they didn't recognize her at all.

She clenched her hands so they'd stop fidgeting. It felt like someone was watching her, a burning spike to the back of her head.

A market had been raised in a big square, rows and rows of hastily put together stalls crisscrossed in a confusing jumble. Shouts from the many vendors mingled in the air into an incomprehensible wall of sound. A Besalisk was grilling sweet meats over an open fire, holding a skewer in each of his four hands. The meat sizzled as Sinead walked past.

Two Jawas screamed in unison at everyone who came close enough to their stall, doing little to entice anyone to stop. Piles of scrap spilled into the street, and the Jawas screeched in indignation whenever anyone accidentally stepped on it.

Sinead ambled down the rows, trying to look like she was browsing the goods without attracting so much attention that anyone would talk to her. Most of the wares being sold were practical, tools and dried food, spare parts for droids. Under a moth-eaten pavilion that offered little in the way of shade, she found a small booth filled with trinkets that looked like they had been ripped straight out of the bowels of a ship. There were brooches made of twisted metal and rings that doubled as lug nuts.

An old woman sat on the other side of the stall. She wore ragged clothes that at first glance made her look like a scarecrow left out in the sun for too long, and it wasn't until she moved that Sinead noticed her. Her face was disproportionately small for her body, resembling a walnut someone left on top of a pile of old laundry.

"See anything you like?" Her voice sounded like a trash compacter filled with rocks. "I make 'em myself."

That wasn't hard to believe. Sinead hummed politely and picked up a brooch made from cogs and a rubber binding. "I’m afraid jewelry isn't that high of a priority right now."

Her wrinkles deepened as she pursed her lips. "Meh, people don't even know what they need until it's right in front of ‘em. Tell ya’ what, I'll give you a good deal, okay? The earrings for fifty creds."

Sinead couldn’t help but snort. The earrings in question were made from old circuitry, the hooks so rusty that wearing them was a surefire way of getting a nasty infection. "Fifty is a bit steep, don't you think?"

The old woman grinned, showing her one snaggletooth poking over her lower lip. “Low price to pay for beauty, innit?”

Tapping on the table Sinead though for a second before saying, "tell you what, I'll buy one of your-" she gestured to the assorted jewelry- "wares … if you can give me some information in return."

The old lady grinned again, her tooth a terrible distraction, looking like a broken roof shingle. "Let's hear it then. What'ya want?"

"Oh no, information first, then the sale."

A shadow fell across the woman's face as she glared Sinead, her watery eyes studying her face. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you didn’t trust me."

Sinead kept her face carefully neutral. "Past experiences have taught me to hold payment until after I get what I want. I’m sure you understand, right?"

There was a cruel glint in the old woman's eyes. "You bet I do. Ask away, dear."

For one long moment, Sinead blanked on what to ask her. She wanted to talk about the Hutt, but the old crone had done nothing to inspire trust.

"The entire galaxy was turned upside down when the Empire fell. How was it here?"

The old woman cackled and folded her wizened hands over her stomach. "You haven't seen our little art project out by the wall, have ya’? A little parting gift from us to the Empire."

"Who controls the planet now? The New Republic-"

The old woman spat on the sand.

"... right."

"We control ourselves, dearie." Sinead had never heard a term of endearment used with so much venom. "We ain't need anyone come here and tell us how to run our own damn home. After they got the message, most of the bucketheads left. The ones who didn't, well, they make a good decoration, don't they?"

"A place outside the grip of the Empire and the Republic sounds nice."

"Sounds like you have something to hide."

Sinead shrugged. "I don't like tyrants or bureaucracy."

"We got rid of our old tyrant years ago, ain't ever looked back since," the old woman sneered,

There we go.

Sinead shifted her weight and leaned closer. "Heard about that on the subspace, that's nasty business. Any chance the Hutt's head is hanging with the others? I'd like to go give my goodbyes in person."

The old woman peered at Sinead. "Sounds personal."

"As far as I'm concerned, hating the Hutt clan is everyone's business, and those who don't are either terminally stupid or, well, part of the Hutt clan.”

"That kriffin' piece of blubber is probably still out in the Dune Sea somewhere. I doubt even the bloatflies'll touch his stinking corpse."

"He was killed in his palace? I heard that place is a fortress."

"My boy went out with some of the others, just to have a little lookie-loo at the place, but the slaves didn't wanna let nobody in. Said they’ve taken over. Been coming in from all over the galaxy, the buggers."

"They still out there?"

The old woman seemed to remember herself. "You ask an awful lot of question, dearie. Maybe it's time you hold up your end of the bargain, hmm?"

Sinead opened her mouth to protest. If Tatooine had managed to rid themselves completely of Hutt control, then maybe other systems would follow suit. The dangerous look in the old woman's eyes told her, however, that pressing on would be a bad idea.

"Sure," she said, looking earnestly at the merchandise. "Uh, yeah … how much for the necklace?" It was the only thing that, if you squinted and stood five meters away on a foggy day might resemble jewelry. It looked like an old optic unit ripped from a droid and attached to a leather string.

"Hundred creds."

"You're joking."

"My information doesn't come cheap, girl. I can always call the guards, say you robbed me of my hard-earned knowledge."

For once, Sinead was momentarily lost for words. "That doesn't-"

"Since the Empire left, we've had to handle justice ourselves, you see, and sometimes the new guards can be a little rough."

Sinead bared her teeth in a smile. "I'll give you twenty."

"Eighty."

"Thirty."

"Seventy-five."

"Thirty-five."

"Seventy-five."

Sinead tossed some credits on the table. "Forty. That's literally the last credits I own."

The old woman snatched the credits with remarkable speed, squirreling them away in her dirty cowl.

"Pleasure doing business with you," Sinead said, stuffing the necklace into her pocket before moving on from the stall.

When she got back to the hangar, the suns had reached the top of the sky and it had impossibly gotten even hotter.

Mando came walking from the other side, his gleaming armor standing out between the bedraggled denizens of Tatooine. He sped up when he saw Sinead.

"You should stay in the ship," he said, when they reached the door to the hangar at the same time.

"You know, people usually greet each other before starting to bark commands, you should really try it."

The Mandalorian shook his head, grumbling under his breath.

“Did you manage to find work, or do we have to go back empty handed? I have a feeling that won’t go over too well with the mechanic.”

“I did, but look … does the name Fennec Shand mean anything to you?”

The color drained from Sinead's face.

"She's hiding out in the Dune Sea with a bounty on her head. I have to bring her back."

"Alive?"

"Yes."

"What a shame."

Fennec Shand’s name brought with it a very special kind of dread. Every Hutt slave had heard stories of Shard bringing back runaway slaves in a condition where they wished they were dead.

“I’ll stay in the ship.” Sinead looked around, like she expected Shand to jump out from behind the nearest hover-cart. “How long will it take?”

“I don’t know. I’m bringing this kid … it doesn’t matter.”

Sinead bit her lips. “Just make sure you get her. I don’t want her coming to Mos Eisley in a murderous rage.”

The Mandalorian moved towards the entrance to the hangar, and when the door opened, the smell of oil and metal hit them.

She wanted to get off this planet, doubly so now she knew that a vicious killer for hire had made this her home. There was nothing to do but wait.

<- Previous chapter - Next chapter ->

[australian-desi]

Qurban Hua ~ Episode 1: Of Rakhis, Token White People and Mithai

So like I was playing the sims 4 and my sim’s only daughter (she has 5 kids - 4 sons, 1 daughter) just died from an accidental drowning on her eldest brother’s birthday party (but I quit without saving so she’s back to life). So that killed the whole gameplay mood. And I’ve decided to absolutely ignore my master’s degree (yes I’m going to be at uni for 5,000,000 years - fight me) I am going to liveblog both shows (Qurbaan Hua and Pavitra Bhagya coz that’s what was asked of me). My tolerance for shitty television has reduced since KZK so let’s see how long these liveblogs last....

So without further ado, here’s the first Liveblog of 2020: Qurban Hua (honestly just watching this show for Karan Jotwani’s face and physique) 

Ooh we’re in the hills, with Krishna’s bhansuri and the feelzzz of sanskar

So we’re in Uttarkhand (sorry if I botched the spelling) with moustache uncle and representative white dude who has come to ‘find himself’ 

Do not give a damn about the religious talk (also this white dude doesn’t even know who Ram ji is, he’s just here to drink some bhang, go to a wedding, witness some poverty and go back home) 

Moustache uncle is blind and we see this when he walks with a tree branch (no exaggeration) and his eyes closed. Nothing speaks ‘this person is blind’ than having them close their eyes for every shot 

SO MANS ISN’T EVEN BLIND - HE’S JUST MOTHERFKN COSPLAYING TO BE A BLIND PERSON 

honestly, what is this bakchodi where is my boi 

Yaar ab shivji ke gaane bhi sunne padenge, kya loge main characters ko introduce karne ke liye 

Ohhh he’s the head priest’s son and has become an ‘awara shehar waala’ rather than take over for his dad, who is too weak to carry the aag thaali (I do not know what it is called)

“daya aati hai mujhe Vyasji ki hassi par, pata nahi Vyasji ka launda, unki kaleje mein aag laga kar, shehar mein kaunsi aag bhuja raha hai?” So I thought what a weird dialogue, and then in the next fkn scene: 

THERE’S SOMEONE LITERALLY ON FIRE AND HE’S COME TO SAVE HER

Also behen, toda dimaag laga, the fire isn’t that bad yet, her fkn arms are so loosely tied, and she has the lung capacity to scream ‘aag aag’ rather than find a better way to save herself, and save her energy and breath so she doesn’t pass out. 

All these people and not one person calls the fire brigade 

They call Neel instead, coz he’s invincible 

Now comes a dramatic sequence of events

My man runs, unaffected by the spitting fire, there is another boi who is so happy to see him and willingly crouches just so mans can quite literally yeet himself on to the roof and break the window to save her. Not before giving some dramatic looks

A. Only her apartment was on fire, not the whole building, he could’ve easily taken the stairs. B. why was the fkn fire not spreading and C. It took him 3 seconds to get her out of that knot, so like as if she couldnt wriggle her hands out of it (maybe if she wasn’t wearing 300 chudiyas, she might’ve been able to) 

I would also thank the gods they gave him winter clothing with a high neck to wear (coz nothing is hotter to me than men in high neck sweaters - it highlights their jawlines, shows off their muscles and shows how long their neck is) #FashionTipsWithAustralianDesi 

OMG IT WAS A SCENE FOR A MOVIE OR SOMETHING OMG. OKAY YOU WIN FKN HELL. HINDI SERIALS: 1, AUSTRALIAN DESI: 29043284 

Look how adorable he looks

“Production? sorry mera naam actually  woh Neelkanth Bhatt Dhyani hai aur main baju-waale hotel mein chef hoon, mujhe laga tha aag lagi thi toh bachane aa gaya” 

Hahahah, noice mans is a chef. Also his name is longer than my life. And so far, in the 3 minutes I’ve watched of him, I really like him. Let’s hope he stays that way

Let’s be real, I watched the promos, I’m going to savour whatever niceness we get of him 

Okay so dude that looked at him, is the Pushkar/Rudra/Insert-comedic relief-younger-sibling, and basically said that our mans here is on a mission to save a girl every day. Wow what a hobby 

“Aag, Aag, continue, aag, aag, aag, continue” hahahah he’s slowly backing out of there 

Mans wants to do one good deed everyday - that’s a rare quality for a tellywood man (he does it because his sister does one good deed a day for his wellbeing - I don’t understand the logic but whatever)

OH MY FKN GOD WE HAVE AN ANJALI 

She’s made a fkn shrine for him (absolutely love the pictures though) 

And he calls his sister ‘Bhags’ - short for Bhagwan because she is god for him

I think these two could give Arnav-Anjali a run for their money 

...And she’s preggers - and so he doesn’t want her pregnancy to have any complications so he’s going to do one good deed a day

let’s see how shit blows in their face - is it a kamina husband, a manipulative mother or a cunning father 

Also gotta love how her husband is probably chilling while Neel is all like ‘MY DIDI’ 

No one: 

No one:

Not even Neil’s fkn mother 

Saraswati: NEIL IS COMING AFTER 3 MONTHS EVERYTHING MUST BE PERFECT 

Welcome Saraswati Anjali 

This man is completely evil. Change my mind. 

So they went with the Kamina husband/brother-in-law 

Who has a problem that Neel is a chef. But let’s be real he wants Neel to be a chef so he could become the head priest 

I AM ONTO YOU. THIS ISN’T MY FIRST RODEO 

And she’s just here to talk about the successes and accomplishments of her brother, because like Anjali, she has nothing better to do in life 

Whatever her husband says goes right over my head, also it’s Saras-Wati not Sarasti 

So proud of his Personal Protective Equipment. Thank god a career being shown properly

Also this looks really small and homely for an industrial kitchen 

So the ‘villain’ of his life is here. Little does he know, that whether he keeps his job or not does not matter, all that matters is that his rakhi is never removed. 

“Main apni behen ko bhool nahi sakta, isliye yeh rakhi agle raksha bhandhan tak, nahi utregi” ummm how bad is your memory that you forget your sister unless there’s a rakhi on your wrist???? 

“Mere kitchen mein yeh sab bilkul allowed nahi hai, no rings, no watches, aur yeh tacky rakhi toh bilkul nahi, afterall hygeine har cook ki responsibility hoti hai” 

“Yeh rakhi toh na utregi sir,” “acha toh phir yeh jo haath mein hai, woh meri kitchen mein khaana nahi bana sakte hai” 

Wow he didn’t have to call the rakhi tacky. Also like, couldn’t you have a dimaag like Arnav, and keep them in a little box, and then show your sister like “look I kept all your rakhis” 

Now watch him cook with one hand, just to prove a point 

TOLD YA 

Also the dude seemed pretty happy with him, I would’ve been like “banda chuthiya ho gaya hai” 

Also his friend is really annoying me with his overreactions to simple things 

He’s saying that he’s going to make the Singoria for the ‘bhakts’ and not for his dad, coz he doesn’t think he needs to ask for an apology to follow his heart 

I enjoy this content, I like this boi. At least he stands by his actions

“Shaakal ko khush karne ke liye jijaji kaafi hai” Wow the Shyam vibes from his jijaji are through the roof 

He said that line like he’s plotting murder or something with the fire reflected on his face

Also can they stop with the Kedarnath soundtrack 

Lol this procession is still going on, it’s been going on for like 3 days. Like, in the time Neel did his wall climbing stunt, saved a woman who was ‘on fire’, stopped a film shoot, told his whole life story and his love obsession for his sister, went through an inspection and made food for a whole restaurant while sassing his boss, and the procession is still going on

 Omg no, now there’s a fkn murgi - WHICH IS ALIVE HOW IS THIS A PROBLEM, JUST MOVE IT AND CONTINUE WALKING 

I mean making him slip would’ve been more fun than a fkn murgi stopping him - also its alive so how is this an apshagun? Imma skip this I cannot 

NOW FKN FAKE ANJALI IS LIKE “the chicken is a mother, do not touch her eggs, she will not look after her children and then they will never be able to feel the mother-child love” 

Gurl, its a chicken. Chill. If it had this much feeling, it would not let go of it’s child 

Okay, here’s a wild thought - why not just walk around it

The chicken isn’t even taking over the whole step, if everyone walks in a single file, you should be able to pass the chicken

but if we use our brains how will this be a hindi serial 

Man fkn hell this the problem in India, the fkn mindset that “dharm se badke aur kuch nahi hai” is2g if people move away from that thought, life would be easier

Also Sarasti is just here caressing her belly, being all like motherhood is the biggest dharm #OhSnap #MicDrop 

So Vyasji has said his first lines of the show and basically whatever I’m understanding is that dharm should be a part of your life, not your whole life and disregarding emotions for your dharm is in fact the opposite of dharm. Wow the man has some sense. Also the actor looks done and does not seem into it - I do not blame him one bit 

And fake Anjali is all like “yay papa is on my side - fuck you husband” 

NEEL YOU FKN IDIOT, IT’S JUST A BAG COULDN’T YOU TAKE IT WITH YOU, NOW THE SANGORIA ARE GONNA GET MISPLACED I ALREADY KNOW. 

ab yeh kaun hai, jo Dhoom ke set se yahan aa gaya 

and he took the wrong bag - well done Neel, that’s all on you

OMG AT LEAST HE REALISED THANK GOD 

Great, now he’s gonna do some Dhoom-esque stunts 

How dumb is the other dude, like there’s someone that’s literally chasing you and you aren’t going to stop to ask them why

Omg he’s actually grabbing it. Is2g if the prasad is completely fine still, Imma flip 

Yeh chal kya raha hai? Is the other dude literally fighting for the supposed kachoris? 

Oh wow its a wamen. And here we begin the #Romance  

HE LITERALLY JUST SAW HER HAIR AND IS SMITTEN - ARE YOU THAT DESPERATE MY FRIEND 

Lovely, he got distracted and she’s gone off with his Sangoria 

Ofcourse he’s like a girl tricked me, now it’s an ego thing. At least he’s admitting it to be an ego ting 

But also like dude do you not believe women can be cunning? I mean we’re literally known for possessing that single trait 

Wow look how happy she is for some Sangoria - and look how dumb she is for not questioning the dude that was chasing her as to why was he after the bag 

OF-FUCKING-COURSE she had to be a social worker who helps the gareeb bachche 

I gotta love how she’s like, why is there mithai here instead of kachoris - proceeds to eat them because the kids were like we like mithai

Behen, kya aap kisi ka bhi khaana leke kha leti ho? 

Like why wouldn’t you put two and two together 

Why would someone be ready to fight you for this mithai. Do you have any logical thinking skills? 

Me when I check my results. The absolute shock horror on his face is sending me 

"Tum pahadi ho?” “Haan aur sharminda bhi” “Itni der se tumhara peecha kar raha tha, tab nahi samajh aaya?” “Nahin mujhe laga koi chor badmaash hai,” 

Love the logic, love that she was so ashamed that she didn’t bother to give his mithai back - what is this character 

She’s literally telling him how to handle his father that she’s never met. 

Dude if it was that easy, would he be this stressed? 

That was quick - she had video evidence that some gunde were making these kids become beggars, and got them arrested while also making Neel feel like he did his one good deed today and she conveniently has her own childcare 

Wow we have an evil maami too, and some random man wanting to kill our gurl

She’s basically saying how Neel will definitely forget to bring the bhog 

Little does she know he won’t forget, he’ll just have some misfortune which will cause him to not bring it

Now poor Sarasti is bringing her dad a shawl and convincing him to go change, but him being the brown dad he is, is all like “If only your idiotic brother was here, I would be sitting on the terrace watching this pooja, looking at him proudly, but he is a nalaayak and alas I am here,” 

He’s literally so salty that he wants to cook, it’s so funny, I can’t 

First of all, why is everyone just taunting Sarasti about her brother’s actions, like I get how close they are but they aren’t the same person??

Now she’s saying that he’s on his way - ah little does she know, he’s distracted by a wamen 

Omg he’s literally telling the story of the Prayag Pushp (a flower I think) “that only blooms when 2 true lovers meet for the first time, and no one has seen it bloom, and no one will see it bloom in this family, and with the same confidence, I am telling you your bhola will not come” wow the amount of trust in your son. I am loving it

Also like who wants to bet the flower is going to bloom when he marries this girl or when they have a dramatic meet up 

“Hey bhole baba, agli baar mujhe uss theeki shezwan sauce se mat milwana” Lol is he dumb or is he dumb 

OMG GOD IN THIS SERIAL IS EXTREMELY FAST. HE PRAYED 2 SECONDS BEFORE AND IN THE NEXT SECOND SHE’S IN FRONT OF HIM

She’s deaf as well, he’s literally calling her and she’s like nope, I am looking outside can only focus on one thing at a time 

“Bache hai kya, joh window seat ke liye itne excited ho rahe hai” “Sifaljiya kahi ka” Okay I’m loving the banter but also have no idea what she just called him 

“Kya kaha tumne? Kaunsi bhasha mein gaali di?” “Mars pe boli jaati hai yeh zubaan, gaye ho kabhi?” 

People I ship it! 

“Lokhar ka sir hai kya tumhaara?” This idiot 

Oh good its these ainvayi ke gunde, mans is never going to reach home in this decade  

And they’re on the bus to beat her? Very normal

And ofcourse this our mans’ good deed of the day

“Kya ho gaya bhai ji? Koi takleef?” Love this man so much. The sass and the politeness how does he do it? 

“Teri saki lagti hai kya?” “Meri patni hai yeh” wow man, like honestly dost bol deta, behen bol deta. Nahi she is now my wife for rescuing purposes (what an Omkara thing to do) 

OMG YES THEIR BACKGROUND SCORE IS KURBAAN HUA FROM KURBAAN - I LOVE THAT SONG 

So the episode ends here and wow this took so long to do coz they decided to make the episode 40 minutes long. So far I like it. I just wish the girl becomes smarter (also what even is her name?) 

[tacitwhisky]

Jon / Sansa Reread - Jon II, AGOT

< Previous Chapter (Arya I) | Next Chapter (Sansa I) >

In which Jon visits Bran, Catelyn is a horrible person, and he gives Arya Needle.

Like Jon I, this chapter is really complicated and a bit of a beast to get through. It's a critical chapter for understanding Jon though; it's his single on page interaction with Catelyn, and the one that solidifies just how traumatic a figure she is in his life. It’s also a tour of all his major Stark relationships outside of Ned: Catelyn, Bran, Robb, and Arya.

There’s actually a lot more to this chapter than I realized, which is one of the reasons it took me so long to get it out.

Lady Stark was there beside his [Bran’s] bed. She had been there, day and night, for close on a fortnight. Not for a moment had she left Bran’s side. She had her meals brought to her there, and chamber pots as well, and a small hard bed to sleep on, though it was said she had scarcely slept at all. She fed him herself, the honey and water and herb mixture that sustained life. Not once did she leave the room. So Jon had stayed away.

Before we get into Catelyn’s horribleness in this chapter, it’s worth pointing out that this is Catelyn at her absolute lowest emotionally. She also severely sleep deprived and borderline crippled with worry and grief. Unfortunately, much like Sansa last chapter though, we’re not really going to get a sense of just out of her mind Catelyn is until her chapter later: if the order of the chapters had been swapped (ignoring plot considerations for a moment) readers would’ve been more sympathetic to Catelyn as a whole.

Not that her actions this chapter aren’t objectively awful.

Lady Stark looked over. For a moment she did not seem to recognize him. Finally she blinked. “What are you doing here?” she asked in a voice strangely flat and emotionless.

“I came to see Bran,” Jon said. “To say good-bye.”

Her face did not change. Her long auburn hair was dull and tangled. She looked as though she had aged twenty years. “You’ve said it. Now go away.”

Martin has gone on record saying that if he were to write it today he would’ve softened Catelyn a little in this scene or at the very least given it more context. While I get that, nothing Catelyn does or says in this scene (with the understanding that she’s half delirious from lack of sleep) is actually out of character. Jon is an existential threat to her children: not only does he look more Stark than her sons, but he’s also as old if not older than Robb which would make him dangerous if he were ever legitimized.

The thread Jon poses is not an idle one; as she'll mention to Robb later in ASOS the Targaryen Blackfyre bastards led to three generations of brutal civil war and repression. Bastards are, by definition, destabilizing to the westerosi social contract. In a society where everyone has a rigid social role (even their gods are broken into specific societal roles) bastards have none and threaten to crumble the walls between them.

The other threat Jon presents to Jon is to the limited power patriarchal society gives her. As a noble lady, managing her home is one of the few places Catelyn can exert any control over her life, and theoretically has as much of a say in as her lord husband, and Ned deciding Jon will stay with them is a slap in the face to her and a breach of that power. As Catelyn herself thinks in an earlier chapter, the problem isn’t that Ned has a bastard; it’s that he has him live with them and she has no control over it.

Part of him wanted only to flee, but he knew that if he did he might never see Bran again. He took a nervous step into the room. “Please,” he said.

Something cold moved in her eyes. “I told you to leave,” she said. “We don’t want you here.”

There’s a real sense of dread seeping out from Jon when it comes to Catelyn. He’s terrified of her, not so much for material reasons (he doesn’t actually think she’ll throw him out despite how she'll threaten to in a minute), as emotional ones. He’s dreading the emotional backlash he knows is coming, which is a very organic reaction from a child who’s been emotionally neglected or abused in the way he has. This is an old pattern, and he's instinctually flinching from what he knows is the emotional fallout.

Once that would have sent him running. Once that might even have made him cry. Now it only made him angry. He would be a Sworn Brother of the Night’s Watch soon, and face worse dangers than Catelyn Tully Stark. “He’s my brother,” he said.

“Shall I call the guards?”

“Call them,” Jon said, defiant. “You can’t stop me from seeing him.” He crossed the room, keeping the bed between them, and looked down on Bran where he lay.

Even this early on Jon has started to use his Night’s Watch identity to draw strength from. It makes sense and speaks to why he wanted to join it to begin with: joining it is a clear mark of adulthood, a way of taking his destiny into his own hands, and because of the nobility of the institution, a way of scrubbing off his bastard taint, something Jon has not doubt craved most of his life.

Drawing strength from taking the black is something that will only grow more second nature to Jon as the series goes on. As I wrote in a recent ask, it’s one of the reasons when he’s resurrected I think finding out he was murdered by his brothers will hit him significantly harder than it does in the show. If he's not a man of the Night's Watch, then he's what he is in this scene: small and vulnerable and unloved.

“Bran,” he said, “I’m sorry I didn’t come before. I was afraid.” He could feel the tears rolling down his cheeks. Jon no longer cared. “Don’t die, Bran. Please. We’re all waiting for you to wake up. Me and Robb and the girls, everyone …”

Lady Stark was watching. She had not raised a cry. Jon took that for acceptance. Outside the window, the direwolf howled again. The wolf that Bran had not had time to name.

“I have to go now,” Jon said. “Uncle Benjen is waiting. I’m to go north to the Wall. We have to leave today, before the snows come.” He remembered how excited Bran had been at the prospect of the journey. It was more than he could bear, the thought of leaving him behind like this. Jon brushed away his tears, leaned over, and kissed his brother lightly on the lips.

Not really important, but still kind of funny: the first time I read A Game of Thrones (fifteen years at this point?) I was very young and the kissing thing weirded me out to no end. It wasn’t until years later I would realize platonic mouth kissing is just a thing white people do sometimes (I’m kidding. Mostly).

“I wanted him to stay here with me,” Lady Stark said softly.

Jon watched her, wary. She was not even looking at him. She was talking to him, but for a part of her, it was as though he were not even in the room.

“I prayed for it,” she said dully. “He was my special boy. I went to the sept and prayed seven times to the seven faces of god that Ned would change his mind and leave him here with me. Sometimes prayers are answered.”

Jon did not know what to say. “It wasn’t your fault,” he managed after an awkward silence.

Her eyes found him. They were full of poison. “I need none of your absolution, bastard.”

Even here, even now, Jon is trying to be kind. He's still, in some level, trying to forge some kind of a relationship, no matter how tenuous it is. It’s what makes Catelyn’s reaction all that much more painful. Even outside of this situation, there’s really no common ground the two could ever have found between them, not without Catelyn being a far different person and one living in a less rigidly patriarchal society. Everything Jon does, no matter how well intentioned, will always be galling and patronizing because of who he is and what he represents.

This doesn’t make how Catelyn treats Jon ok though. Whatever her frustrations or anxieties with the position Jon occupies, she is an adult and he is a child, a child who desperately needed a mother figure and to be treated as equal to his siblings. There’s just no getting around it. At some point early in Jon’s upbringing Catelyn needed to put her big girl boots on, do the right thing, and treat him like a person.

He was at the door when she called out to him. “Jon,” she said. He should have kept going, but she had never called him by his name before. He turned to find her looking at his face, as if she were seeing it for the first time.

“Yes?” he said.

“It should have been you,” she told him. Then she turned back to Bran and began to weep, her whole body shaking with the sobs. Jon had never seen her cry before.

It was a long walk down to the yard.

That last line (“it should’ve been you”) is a stab in the gut, but can ultimately, like a lot of Catelyn’s behavior in this chapter, be attributed to being half mad from grief and sleep deprivation: the part about how this is the first time she’s ever called him by his name can’t be, and is just chilling. It’s one of the few concrete details we get about how the two of them interacted. Denying someone their name is dehumanizing (Reek, it rhymes with meek), and speaks to just how much distance Catelyn created between her and Jon.

There isn’t really a reason to think Catelyn called Jon “Snow” or “bastard” or anything particular cruel, but ignoring is a special of cruelty all it’s own, though it probably came easy to Catelyn. In a castle as big and gendered as Winterfell, just like with Sansa, there’s the very real possibility that the two of them simply didn’t cross paths much.

We also don’t really get any reaction from Jon here to what Catelyn says. It’s a little frustrating in terms of trying to understand his character, but it fits Martin’s less is more ethos (for this, anyway, he definitely lacks that ethos when it comes to adding Greyjoy and Dorne plotlines).

Outside, everything was noise and confusion. Wagons were being loaded, men were shouting, horses were being harnessed and saddled and led from the stables. A light snow had begun to fall, and everyone was in an uproar to be off.

Robb was in the middle of it, shouting commands with the best of them. He seemed to have grown of late, as if Bran’s fall and his mother’s collapse had somehow made him stronger. Grey Wind was at his side.

While not a big part of either Sansa or Jon’s storyline, Robb really grows into being a lord in the absence of Ned and Catelyn. Just another example of how all the Stark children are forced to mature quickly, and a bit of a counterpoint to the idea that Ned didn’t prepare them for the adult world. While he certainly didn’t in certain ways in that all of them start their stories at something of a deficit of where they should be in terms of knowledge of the world, he and Catelyn did raise them in a way where they’re able to adapt swiftly to what’s needed.

“Uncle Benjen is looking for you,” he [Robb] told Jon. “He wanted to be gone an hour ago.”

“I know,” Jon said. “Soon.” He looked around at all the noise and confusion. “Leaving is harder than I thought.”

“For me too,” Robb said. He had snow in his hair, melting from the heat of his body. “Did you see him?”

Jon nodded, not trusting himself to speak. “He’s not going to die,” Robb said. “I know it.”

“You Starks are hard to kill,” Jon agreed. His voice was flat and tired. The visit had taken all the strength from him.

Robb knew something was wrong. “My mother …”

“She was … very kind,” Jon told him.

Robb looked relieved. “Good.”

Robb seems to be well aware just how hostile Catelyn might have been to Jon, which implies that he's very aware of the distance and tension between them in normal life. And the fact that Robb is relieved when Jon says nothing happened is also interesting for its implication of just how much strain Catelyn’s hostility towards Jon put on all the starklings. This is an excellent meta that explores this idea more fully. To quote just a bit from it:

“I don’t often see it acknowledged that Catelyn’s abuse of Jon reverberated through the family and hurt her own children, even though it’s quite visible in a few places. Beyond the strain it puts on the Starklings to be perpetually caught between their beloved mother and beloved brother… I don’t see Robb’s anxiety here that his mother might hurt his brother being mentioned, and how that kind of dynamic puts a terrible strain on both children. Catelyn very clearly did not “ignore” or “avoid” Jon, and her actions didn’t just affect Jon, either, they also hurt her own children. Note that I am not saying that Catelyn is a Bad Mother or siding with the goblins of westeros.org who will hate Catelyn for anything she does, but when a parent behaves in inappropriate ways to one child it affects everyone in a family, especially the other children.”

Trying to navigate the hostility between two people you love is hugely stressful, and triply so when one of them is your parent. Fundamentally Robb is caught in a zero sum game where any affection or closeness with Jon is a betrayal of his mother. This is a dynamic I see attributed a lot to Sansa in fic where she’s the one of the starklings in the family who chooses her mother over Jon. It’s a really rich idea to explore, but unfortunately there’s no way of knowing whether it’s true accurate or not: there just isn’t enough evidence one way or another in the actual books. I tend to prefer the headcanon that the two were just different, but it’s certainly no less valid.

What we do is that this zero sum dynamic isn’t what Bran and Arya experienced with Jon. Neither (as far as I can remember) actually ever think about his relationship with Catelyn, though you can still see the damage in how Arya immediately thinks as a child she must be a bastard because she doesn’t fit in. Like we’ve talked about, Catelyn created and perpetuated the subconscious understanding among the Starklings that to be bastard was to be other. To quote from that meta again (it really is excellent):

“We also see the effects of Catelyn’s treatment of Jon in Sansa’s reflection on both Jon and Arya. Catelyn’s attempt to interfere with her children’s relationship with Jon was most successful with Sansa who internalized that Jon was to be held at a distance because he was only their half-brother. Sansa also thinks of how it would have been easier for her to understand Arya’s nature and the difference between them if Arya was a bastard like Jon, which speaks of Sansa’s view of the proper boundaries of a relationship with a bastard sibling and the kind of behavior she was taught to expect from bastards, an expectation that she displays when she casually comments about how Jon was jealous of Joffrey in a very matter-of-fact way. That alignment of Jon and Arya colors Sansa’s perception of Arya just as much as Jon.”

Speaking of Arya, Jon says farewell to Robb, and then goes to say goodbye to Arya who is busy packing in her room.

Arya glanced behind her, saw Jon, and jumped to her feet. She threw her skinny arms tight around his neck. “I was afraid you were gone,” she said, her breath catching in her throat. “They wouldn’t let me out to say good-bye.”

“What did you do now?” Jon was amused.

Though it’s not ever mentioned, Arya is probably the only person Jon has ever gotten any physical affection from. Ned is not the kind of parent to overly shower his children with physical contact, and Jon is even likely to get any from him as both male and a bastard. And Catelyn sure as hell isn’t giving out any hugs to him. It’s interesting he actually isn’t more craving of affection of any kind (like Tyrion is) throughout the series, and speaks I think to how healthy and supportive of relationships he did have with his siblings despite Catelyn.

Her face lit up. “A present?”

“You could call it that. Close the door.”

Wary but excited, Arya checked the hall. “Nymeria, here. Guard.” She left the wolf out there to warn of intruders and closed the door. By then Jon had pulled off the rags he’d wrapped it in. He held it out to her.

Arya’s eyes went wide. Dark eyes, like his. “A sword,” she said in a small, hushed breath.

The scabbard was soft grey leather, supple as sin. Jon drew out the blade slowly, so she could see the deep blue sheen of the steel. “This is no toy,” he told her. “Be careful you don’t cut yourself. The edges are sharp enough to shave with.”

“Girls don’t shave,” Arya said.

“Maybe they should. Have you ever seen the septa’s legs?”

It’s here we get our first introduction to Needle, one of the top five emotionally charged swords in the series. Throughout all her travels and hardships Needle will be the one thing Sansa holds on to, and as she thinks years later in Braavos before the House of Black and White, Needle is a symbol not just of her old life, but Jon’s unquestioning acceptance of her nonconformity.

That being said, let’s talk for a moment just how weird it is Jon is arming a child with a deadly weapon. As this meta argues, Jon is remarkably comfortable with violence, and his modus operandi in almost any given situation, whether personal or political, is to immediately empower and arm a marginalized group: Arya here, Sam and the other Night’s Watch recruits against Alliser Thorne at Castle Black , and the Wildlings in ADWD.

This modus operandi is interesting to think about when applying it to his relationship to Sansa. Even if they had been in closer proximity as children, I still don’t think Jon would ever have gotten that emotionally close to Sansa. She’s simply in too much of a position of privilege for him to ever really have anything to offer her. Jon is capable of having relationships with people either at his privilege level or higher, Robb and Ygritte come to mind, but on the whole that really is how Jon tends to develop the majority of his relationships: almost as though he can only be friends with people who need him (Sam, Tormund, Alys Karstark, even Stannis to a degree).

To theorize for a moment, this probably stems from his understanding of the world as an uncertain place where his status is always tenuous. And also from a probably unconscious feeling of having no inherent worth of his own: there’s no reason for anyone to like him just for him, so he only feels comfortable when there’s some material reason for them to. It’s a really subtle expression of Catelyn’s withholding of affection and his bastard status as a whole.

This is all really interesting to think about in relation to what his relationship with Sansa will be when they meet again and she no longer holds the position of privilege that she once did. While she almost for sure won’t be as disempowered when they meet in the books as she was in the show, she will need Jon to one extent or the other. It’s also just interesting to think about in terms of Jon’s future emotional growth or how he’d handle it in an intimate relationship.

She giggled at him. “It’s so skinny.”

“So are you,” Jon told her. “I had Mikken make this special. The bravos use swords like this in Pentos and Myr and the other Free Cities. It won’t hack a man’s head off, but it can poke him full of holes if you’re fast enough.”

“I can be fast,” Arya said.

“You’ll have to work at it every day.” He put the sword in her hands, showed her how to hold it, and stepped back. “How does it feel? Do you balance?”

“I think so,” Arya said.

“First lesson,” Jon said. “Stick them with the pointy end.”

Again cute, but to quote from that meta: “[Jon’s] idea of thoughtful gift-giving is to sit around contemplating the best way for a small-sized nine-year-old to kill people and figure out what she needs to do it. “

Arya gave him a whap on the arm with the flat of her blade. The blow stung, but Jon found himself grinning like an idiot. “I know which end to use,” Arya said.

Jon’s grin here is evidence that he really does find fulfillment and happiness with Arya, even here on one of the most emotionally taxing days of his life to this point.

“Who will I practice with?”

“You’ll find someone,” Jon promised her. “King’s Landing is a true city, a thousand times the size of Winterfell. Until you find a partner, watch how they fight in the yard. Run, and ride, make yourself strong. And whatever you do …”

Arya knew what was coming next. They said it together.

“… don’t … tell … Sansa!”

Despite being one of the few times Jon mentions Sansa, I don’t think his evocation of her here is really about what he thinks about her so much as what he knows she means to Arya. We in general don’t really ever (as far as I can remember) get any real insight into what Jon thought about their relationship, or if he even internally took sides. Considering just how close he is with Arya, you’d think he would have more thoughts on the matter, but it’s yet another frustrating example of the black hole of their relationship.

Jon messed up her hair. “I will miss you, little sister.”

Suddenly she looked like she was going to cry. “I wish you were coming with us.”

“Different roads sometimes lead to the same castle. Who knows?” He was feeling better now. He was not going to let himself be sad. “I better go. I’ll spend my first year on the Wall emptying chamber pots if I keep Uncle Ben waiting any longer.”

Arya ran to him for a last hug. “Put down the sword first,” Jon warned her, laughing. She set it aside almost shyly and showered him with kisses.

Again we see the dynamic of Jon finding fulfillment and feeling better in himself for arming and thus empowering someone else. It also brings full circle the tour of Jon’s Stark emotional relationships and how they relate to Catelyn: Catelyn herself who he dreads and has the worst with, Bran who’s comatose but is a positive relationship, Robb who is on the whole a positive relationship but one not unaffected by Catelyn, and then Arya who he’s closest to because they’re both nonconforming.

When he turned back at the door, she was holding it again, trying it for balance. “I almost forgot,” he told her. “All the best swords have names.”

“Like Ice,” she said. She looked at the blade in her hand. “Does this have a name? Oh, tell me.”

“Can’t you guess?” Jon teased. “Your very favorite thing.”

Arya seemed puzzled at first. Then it came to her. She was that quick. They said it together:

“Needle!”

The memory of her laughter warmed him on the long ride north.

Show Comparison

(I know I’m in the minority, but Jon’s face is oh so punchable in the early seasons. Kit is a fair actor, but the impression of Jon we get is less of an intelligent and occasionally sullen bastard, and more just sulky)

The show changes this chapter in a few really significant ways. There’s two scenes that take place in the same timeframe that are addd. One is Jaime mocking Jon for going to the Wall, which is very Jaime and adds to the theme we’ll see in Tyrion II of Jon not quite understanding what he was signing up for, but otherwise doesn’t do much.

The other scene is Cersei coming to visit Catelyn at Bran’s bedside. This is a weird scene for a couple of reasons (not least of which is Cersei losing a child that will then be totally forgotten a few seasons later in Maggy’s prophecy), but for our purposes it changes what Catelyn’s mental state is for the scene with Jon. Instead of being half mad with grief and sleep deprivation, Catelyn really isn’t that distraught. Sad and worried, sure, but not out of her mind.

Before we get there though, Jon goes to say goodbye to Arya. Switching the order of this scene to before the on with Catelyn and Bran actually changes more than you’d think. I can see why they thought it was a good idea: there’s more of a dramatic progression this way, but it robs Jon and Arya’s scene. Instead of a scene where he draws strength from his relationship with Arya, it’s a sadder and more somber scene. It’s also a significantly shorter scene than it is in the book, with less banter, and combined with the cutting of the scene between the two of them in Arya I, it makes their relationship a little perfunctory. Jon also sasses Arya for not having Nymeria react to her command, which runs completely counter to how supportive he is in the books. In general he’s a little more harsh with her.

It’s not a problem, per se, you still get a sense that they’re close, but it’s the first step in a general flattening of Jon’s character. Speaking of which...

A lot of the dialogue in the scene by Bran’s bedside gets cut. A lot. Catelyn literally has two lines, one at the beginning, and one at the end.

Jon: I’ve come to say goodbye to Bran.

Catelyn: You’ve said it.

And then after Jon says his thing to Bran.

Catelyn: I want you to leave.

It’s fair to cut some of Catelyn’s dialogue here. The way she glares at Jon non-verbally communicates some of it, but it fundamentally changes the scene. While I don’t think there’s a need to keep Catelyn as sharp as she was in the original scene, because we don’t have access to Jon’s inner thoughts, cutting all her dialogue means that for all intents and purposes all the things we talked about in this chapter; the toll Jon’s bastard status takes on him, the complexities in his familial relationships, the way Catelyn’s actions affected all the Starks are just… gone. None of it exists on the show.

It’s the way the show handles a lot of things, and one of the reasons I wasn’t too fond of it back even in season one: really the show is interested only in a surface level reading of the text, and flattens everything, jettisoning a lot of the thematic and character richness Martin fills the books with.

(Oh, also Ned is in the scene now. Do we see how he reacts to Jon and Catelyn’s relationship? Nope, because none of it happens.)

Finally, the scene between Jon and Robb plays out pretty much the same. There’s another added scene after it where Ned tells Jon he may not have the Stark name, but he has his blood and promises to talk about his mother next time they talk. I don’t really have any thoughts about it. It’s nice, but could also have just been cut for time and we wouldn’t really lose anything.

Conclusion

This was a beast of a chapter to get done, much like Jon I. While chronologically the next chapter I should cover is Tyrion II, I’m going to skip it and do Sansa I next (and then Tyrion II). It’ll be the first time we’ll be in Sansa’s pov and get her sense of her relationship with Arya: it also contains the infamous incident between Joffrey and Arya out on the Kingsroad.

Like the last Jon chapter, there’s a lot of really good meta written about the Bran bedroom scene and Jon and Catelyn’s relationship in general. Some I’ve already linked to in this reread series (and this chapter), and some I haven’t, but most of it should be new.

Further Reading

Catelyn’s relationship with Jon drove a wedge through all the Stark children

Jon giving Arya Needle is a sign of how comfortable he is with violence

Catelyn’s animus to Jon stems from her patriarchal disempowerment

Should Ned have fostered Jon elsewhere?

Should Ned have told Jon about his true parentage?

Should Ned have told Catelyn about Jon’s true parentage?

Previous Chapters:

Bran I

Jon I

Arya I

[semblanche]

and curiosity clipped his wings - ch 3

featuring two brothers, one uncomfortable conversation, and a miracle.

status: first draft, edited

(ask to be added/removed from my tag list!)

` ` `

Raphael offers to pick me up, but I refuse.

I'm quite interested in the experience of taking a taxi, I tell him. Or, as the people here like to call it, a 'cab.'

He tells me not to be an idiot and that he'll be there in ten minutes.

The club seems duller by day. People totter out in hordes, leaning against each other for support and throwing up into flower pots until the bouncer ushers them outside. The bouncer is a tall dark man named Tim. I think I may have kissed him.

I help Tim clean up a bit until Raphael arrives. He smiles and calls me a good egg. I ask him if there's such a thing as a bad egg, and he tilts his head towards the hordes of no longer drunk girls holding each others hair up as they vomit in the corner. I recognize a few of them by face. One of them is wearing my coat.

"Bad eggs," he says, and his muscles ripple as he picks up the pieces of what I think used to be a table. "They ain't ever gonna pay for the damage they caused. Daddy's got them covered."

I tell him I think it's nice to see family supporting each other. He rolls his eyes, but doesn't answer. We work in silence until my phone buzzes and I know Raphael is here.

"Thanks for your help, man," Tim says as I excuse myself. “If you ever come back - drinks' on me."

My stomach churns at the thought of any more alcohol, but his dimples twitch when he smiles at me, so I accept and thank him.

It's cold outside, colder than I'd thought. The wind moves like a thief, creeping under my shirt and blowing goosebumps onto my skin. I don't move. It's a new feeling to me, being cold. I think I like it.

I see Raphael almost immediately. He's the only one driving a coach instead of a car. He's sitting on top of it awkwardly, arms crossed over his blue checkered jacket and with a lime green hat placed backwards on his head. He's light skinned today, and possibly bald - it's hard to tell under the hat. His face doesn't change when he sees me.

"Do people not have carriages anymore?" he asks. I look around at all the grey parked cars, and shake my head. Raphael’s long forgotten what it means for times to change.

"But it does make yours more unique.”

He sighs, and taps his fingers against his leg. I count six. Raphael's long forgotten what it means to seem human.

"Get in," he says, and I do. "And why are you shivering?"

"It's cold," I say shortly. The inside of the coach is just as chilly as the outside of it, and with a smell like a couch left in the rain to dry. There's a long, deep crack that splits the window in two. I run my finger across it, and a piece of my skin gets caught. I bleed.

"Cold," Raphael muses at the front of the coach. "He's cold. Where's your coat, Hector?"

I tell him the truth. I think I can lie now, no bonds of Heaven keeping my tongue in check, but I can't bring myself to do so yet. It feels like a step only a coward would take.

Raphael's silence is all I need to know he doesn't believe me.

I sink into my seat. It feels like no one has sat in it in centuries. On my finger, red drops are beginning to swell.

"You're acting like a child," Raphael finally says. "You know that?"

I suck on my finger. "I don't think children are allowed in clubs."

"Hector."

"Or thrown out of their homes."

"Hector."

I fall silent. My heartbeat sounds all too loud in my ears - a stone thudding against my chest. Still, I listen to it for a moment. Of all the things I've gained in my fall, a heartbeat is by far my favorite. It's like a song meant for my ears and my ears alone.

"I'm sorry.”

And what constitutes a lie, really? Does it have to be blatant fiction in place of fact? Or can it creep up on me slowly, words that are true on their own but hold no meaning when I speak them? Will humanity make me a liar when I'm not looking?

The thought scares me. I fall silent again, and hope my words die with me.

Raphael is asking me something. I tune it out, and he soon gives up. The carriage lurches to a start, and with it, my thoughts.

"Do you even know this boy?" Raphael finally asks. I shrug and rub at my finger. It's still bleeding a bit. I wonder if blood is supposed to be this red.

"In a sense."

"What sense?"

I grin. "A biblical one."

Raphael groans. He's not my brother anymore, not technically, but I know him well - our bond goes deeper than feathers and blood. And I know he's disgusted by such talk.

He doesn't say anything for a bit, and I look out the window. We're going fast, faster than we should be. Faster than I think coaches are supposed to go. I warn Raphael, but he ignores me. Our speed continues to build, like building blocks being stacked on top of each other to form a teetering tower, and next thing I know we're flying, Raphael recklessly weaving us through cars and bikes and motorcycles - I hear a scream, and wonder if we hit someone, but then realise my throat is trembling and the scream is just my own.

We keep going like this until our surroundings are a blur and my skin is peeling off like wax. We keep going like this until the stone in my chest that is my heartbeat explodes and the carriage lurches to a halt and Raphael tells me we're here.

I can't breathe.

Raphael gets off and opens the door for me. He has seven fingers now. Although that might just be me being too dizzy to count right.

“Get out,” he says, and I do. The ground swims under my feet. I've never liked swimming. “Have you already forgotten what miracles feel like?”

“Miracles depend on the person,” I say. My stomach turns itself inside out with each word I speak, and I pause, letting it settle. “I forgot what yours felt like.”

He smiles. He shines. “I think you mean depend on the angel.”

“Whatever,” I say. I heard a girl say it to her mother drunkenly on the phone once. It calms the bile I feel rising to my lips.

Raphael shrugs, and with a leap too graceful to be human returns to his seat on the coach. The horse harnessed in front of him looks the way I feel. Bones line her skin like coat hangers.

“Please let me know if you need anything else,” Raphael tells me. “Don't be too stubborn to reach out.”

“You called me a child.”

“Because you were being stubborn by not contacting me. You're really only proving my point.”

He lifts a hand, and the horse breaks into a slow, strenuous trot. Her hooves clop against the unevenly paved road like cups. I still feel a little sick watching them go.

“Good luck,” Raphael says as the horse pulls him and his outdated vehicle away. “I trust you know what you're doing.”

I wordlessly nod.

I want him to know I hear the warning in his words, no matter how well he lines it - that he trusts I know what I'm doing. If anything goes wrong with my plan, I haven't just let him down. I've lost his trust.

I want him to know I don't think I like how he's treating me, like I just tripped and lost my wings and should be pitied and helped along.

I want him to know that I'm a thousand years old, not a hundred, and I can take care of myself. I want him to know that at the end of the day, and at the start of eternity, I know I'll be just fine.

But by now he's too far, and really? I'm not sure if that last one is true.

[lehenne]

Guide werewolf, ch.3

“Oh my god, Emilia !” Elizabeth is coming toward us. Don't worry Emilia, I'll take your beating in your stead. I place myself in front of her and offer my back to the furious mother. “What happened ? I called the police !” She's here. I tense up, wait for the pain. But she hugs her daughter instead. Mh ? Okay, maybe it's Clive who does the beating. Okay.

“I just went for a walk, mom ! Matt was with me, nothing could have happened.” She reciprocates the hug. “chill...”

“Chill ?” Elizabeth thunders. “You're telling me to chill ?” Her anger explodes like a volcano. I put myself between the two women, because she might be the one doing the beatings after all. I succeed in separating them, even though they don't even seem to notice. “You disappear without a word, and I should chill ?”

“I'm sorry, mom.” She's not really sorry, but she's a good actor. And her mother doesn't seem capable of holding her grudge. I think she was just scared. “I went to the market.”

“What ?” Her mom says, incredulous.

“Can we go home, first ? My feet hurt.”

When we enter the house, I'm ready to take on Clive, but he just stands in the middle of the living room, looking relieved. He doesn't smell of anger, but I still keep my eyes on him when he comes to hug Emilia. Okay. No beating ? Okay...

“I went shopping, guys, it was cool,” she says. “Matt, c'mon, stop pushing me back. Let me... take the bags.”

She struggles to untangle the knots she'd made, but eventually puts the bags on the ground. She goes fishing in them, and takes a big yellow candle out. “That's for mom, it's vanilla scented ! I don't think you should light it without an open window though ; you could pass out from all the vanila.”

“Emilia...” says Elizabeth, her shoulders dropping as she accepts the gift.

“That's for you, dad,” she says, handing a chocolate bar to Clide, “The guy in the shop said it was the closest to 100% chocolate I could find.” She goes on to show what she's taken for herself and me, proud and happy. Her parents look defeated, and when Elizabeth asks her why she didn't tell them anything, she takes a second to reply.

“Well... I'd rather apologise  than lying by telling I won't do it.” Which results in more shouting. But it's not angry shouting, it's frustration. Eventually, I go curl up in a corner and let them bicker, because it's obvious no one will beat anyone, and because the harness is starting to really hurt, and laying down makes it less annoying, and that guy at the market was scary, and what did he mean by “that family” ?

After some time, the whiff of grilled steak, baked potatoes and chick peas as well as the voice of Emilia calling my name wake me up. I walk to her and gently bump her leg.

“What are still doing in wolf form ?” I... didn't know I was supposed to change. “And why do you still wear the harness ?” Clive, setting the table, voices my thoughts.

“I think you're supposed to take it off, darling.”

“Oh, right... wait, you've kept it all night ?” she realises. She apologizes profusely all the while taking it off, and I have to repress a tailwag ; At least she'll remember the lesson. It feels so great when it's finally off ! “So, will you turn back now ?” Emilia asks. I head into the bathroom, but just as I'm about to close the door, Clive stops me.

“I went shopping today, and I found you some new clothes,” he says, pointing at a neatly folded new t-shirt, pants and underwear. I'm aware I'm staring at him with awe while he points at the sink. “There's a toothbrush for you, it's the orange one. And that basket over here is for your dirty clothes.” He says this as if it's... normal. I'm glad I'm in wolf shape right now, because I couldn't have kept the tears away. How lucky am I to have found such a family ?

I don't immediately turn human when he closes the door. I need some time to regain my composure. Eventually, I change and hop into the shower. Warm water is still the best thing I've ever felt on my skin. In front of the mirror, I comb the curls of my hair to the side, because it's the only hairdo that makes me look like a responsible adult. The red marks the harness left around my chest blend in between the scars, so I'm not too worried about it ; I heal fast. The towel that Clive gave me is soft and it almost smells like lavender. Too bad it's fake. The clothes he bought are fine. I've never really cared about what I wore, and the priest at the church shelter told me I had terrible fashion sense, and he even said that it was something coming from him.

Everyone is waiting for me at the table when I come out. Oh no. I hurry to my seat with my head low and apologize.

“What ?” Says Clive, frowning, but quickly dismissing it. “That shirt looks good on you, eh ?”

“Oh, yes sir. Thank you.” Does nothing bother them ? At all ? Emilia starts eating, but her parents' gaze, seated in front of me, linger on my arms a bit. Should I start eating ? To be sure, I wait until they do. We eat in silence for a while. Emilia breaks the silence first.

“What's written on that collar you wear ? And why do you wear it anyway ?”

“It reassures people to see a collar on any dog. Especially a lion sized one, the association said.”

“Why don't you take it off now ?” Elizabeth asks. I shrug.

“I've never taken it off since I was ten.”

“Why ten ?” Emilia doesn't even stop eating to speak.

“That's the age we start going to the market to herd the sheep. We almost look like regular wolves at ten.”

“Herd the sheep ? Are you a country bumpkin or what ?” I don't answer right away, because I'm busy swallowing my food.

“I don't know. The priest said from what I told him we were probably Amish or something like that.” My partner almost chokes on her spaghetti, so I pat her back until she stops coughing. She reaches for her water and drinks the whole thing.

“So... you grew up without electricity or internet ?”

“Yes.” I smile at her amazement.

“So this house is like, from the futur for you.” I chuckle a bit.

“Well, I've spent a year at the church, and they have a TV, so I've watched plenty of it. They even helped me find the association on the Internet.” I try not to sound too proud, but I seem to fail, because Emilia starts laughing like crazy.

After the meal, she insists on bringing dessert on her own. It's an apple pie she bought at the market. It smells amazing, between the caramel and the cinnamon. After I finish my slice, Clive hands me a second one. I'm about to refuse, because it's the last slice, but the resolve in his look dissuades me.

“So, will you tell me already what's written on your collar, or is it some kind of secret ?”

“Bonfire,” I say. And before she asks me, I answer her next question. “It's the wolf name the elders chose for me. It's a tradition from before we came out to the public.”

“So cute,” she whispers, sipping her mug of hot chocolate.

“Emilia, why don't you go do your homework, we have to talk between adults.” I almost get up to let them both alone, but I'm supposed to be an adult. Elizabeth waits for her daughter to get up the stairs to start talking. “How did your first day go ?” She asks with unnease. It's not what she wants to ask. Not really.

“All went well. Emilia is a very strong child.”

“Good.” She stalls her next question. Clive speaks up first.

“Matthew. Those scars on your arms, what... where do they come from ?” I look down at my parents' handiwork ; A few scratchmarks and many whip strokes. The priest had asked the same thing.

“Oh, don't worry, I haven't been fighting with anyone.” They don't look reassured. “It looks like a lot of beating, but I swear I'm not so bad.” Not even an iota. I cross my arms and nervously grab my arm. “I... I won't cause any mischief.” Clive gets up and comes toward me. So that's how they throw me out. Not even one day into the job. I offer my neck to him and close my eyes.

He hugs me. Why... His warmth wraps around me as surely as his huge arms across my back. I'm too scared to move or speak ; what if he lets go ? He speaks only when I give up and relax against him.

“Son, you don't have to fear anyone in this house.” I stay absolutely still for a long while, with nothing crossing my mind and a lump in my throat. When he breaks his hold, he grabs my shoulders and meet my eyes. I lower my gaze, so he pats my head with a sigh.

When I curl up in my bed, Clive's words rock me into slumber.

Maddie and ms Stonewell's looks of stupor when they realise who I am almost makes me crack a smile. With Emilia holding onto my arm, I lead the way down the driveway just like yesterday.

“Hi ms Stonewell, hi Maddie,” she chimes while climbing into the car. “You remember Matthiew from yesterday.”

“Hello,” I say in a friendly voice, seating in the car and closing the door.

“Hello...” The mother says.

“Say, Maddie,” Emilia starts seriously, leaning forward. “Tell me : How cute is he ?” Maddie, in the front seat, has been staring at me since I've fastened my seatbelt. Her tone is as serious as Maddie's.

“Hella.” I know from the TV shows I should be blushing from this compliment. But I can't help the fact that I've no idea what cute means to humans. Or at all, really. I smile at her nonetheless.

“What in the hell is this mess ?” Ms Stonewell states as we turn into the school's alley. There are colorfull vans everywhere, with satellite dishes on their rooftops and people in suits speaking to people with cameras, all of them waiting for something.

“What is it ?” Asks my partner.

“TV crews,” Maddie answers with excitement.

“Ugh,” Emilia says with disgust, “how much do you bet Tony called his uncle.” She proceeds on opening her bag, puts her cane in, and extends her hand to me. “We're gonna hold hands, okay ? I don't want them to spot us.”

“Alright.” Without her cane to scan the floor, I casually mention any step, while we head inside the building. “Sidewalk,” I mention as we pass a lady with a microphone, checking her hair. We enter school ground without trouble. But then, right when we pass the shrubs, an excited voice makes me jump up.

“That guy ! His collar !”

“Shit ! Your collar ! Speed up, boy !” Emilia pushes me, so I do as she asks.

“Stairs in three, two, one...” we climb up the four steps like we've been doing it for years. A lady supervisor, peering above our heads, opens the door for us.

“Calm down now, don't worry, they're not allowed beyond the fence.” She speaks softly, and waits for Maddie to come in before closing the door. “Go directly to the gymnasium, alright ?” Her attention goes back to the entrance, that she monitors with a stern expression. Before we go, Emilia takes her cane from her bag.

“That run was crazy scary.” We follow Maddie through the badly lit corridors, into the inner courtyard, and to the gym's entrance.

There's already a lot of students, all screaming to each other and waiting, impatient. I also spot many adults in the crowd. On the wall they're facing, there's a projection of a werewolf ; She's a dominent elder, and it seems like she's looking directly at me. The principal, when he sets eyes on Emilia and realises who I am, shows the same bewildered expression as Maddie and her mom earlier. He heads down from an improvised pedestal to meet with us, so I inform my partner.

“Good morning Emilia. Good morning... Matthiew, I suppose ?” He says very professionally, extending a hand for me to shake.  

“Indeed, sir.” I say with all the confidence I can muster. Among the screaming mass, I can already hear a few “Look, it's him !” and other variations of the same sort.

“I'm sorry, all of this might be too sudden for you.” Maybe I don't look that confident after all. “Emilia, are you up for this ? You could stay back if you wish.” I can feel her strong grip on my arm, and hear her heart pound in her chest.

“No, I'll do it with him, mr Wade.”

While we wait for the last students to arrive, he proceeds to tell us about what he'll be showing on the screen ; A few rules to observe around guide dogs, but mostly werewolf facts he had gathered the day before. To reassure the students and more particularly their parents, who showed up as he expected.

“I hope you'll provide more details for us and be able to put everyone at ease.”

We begin the presentation under religious silence. Mr Wade decides to start with “the werewolf related” material. After the short presentation he had prepared, he gives me his microphone to speak up. I don't really know what to add ; the documentation he's shown was pretty extensive and covered all the basics ; the change, a pack's structure and behavior, as well as statistics from scientific studies I barely understood.

Microphone in hand, I scan the crowd staring back at me.

“Huh...” There's so many people. Thankfully, Emilia pries the microphones from my hand with a pat on my arm.

“Questions ?” She says simply. Chaos ensues. I answer so many question I lose count. They range from interesting ;

“Do mothers give birth in wolf or human form ?”

“I don't know. Men aren't allowed to have anything to do with it.” To very stupid ;

“Do you sniff other peoples' butts ?”

“No. Dogs do that because they can't speak.” To embarrassing for the other humans ;

“Can you lick your own balls ?” The principal doesn't let me answer that one, even if I don't really mind myself.

Emilia seems to have fun. We spend the whole morning there, and when the questions finally die down, mr Wade ends the meeting with the guide dog rules. On the screen, he shows a giant poster with a dog wearing a harness panting at the crowd, and the basic manners to observe written next to it.

> Speak to the person first. Don't distract the dog.

>Don't touch the dog without permission. Don't give it food.

>Don't intrude the handler's privacy by asking about their disability. Respect their choice of not talking about their service dog.

When the time comes for lunch and the principal chases everybody out, I'm free from the inquisition. During lunch, I sit at the table with Emilia and her friends, listening to their conversation about the science project they're working on. I don't get any of it, but it sounds interesting. In recess, the boy that had asked if I could lick my privates comes back.

“Hey, so can you do it or not ?” He asks with a smirk and a wink. Surely if the principal didn't want me to answer, there was a reason.

“Who knows,” I wink back at him. He leaves with a disappointed “That guy's no fun.”

I totally can, though.

The afternoon math lesson fascinates me. I don't understand any of it, but the fact that humans could is amazing. The professor reads aloud what he writes on the whiteboard for Emilia's benefit, which she diligently types on her computer. On my right, probably Jason isn't paying as much attention ; He's drawing birds on the sides of his notebooks ; It's so well done I recognise a hoopoe, a blue tit and a woodpecker. When he notices me looking at his drawing, he clears his throat, turns the page and starts copying the math problems on the board.

The end of the day comes. We wait for ms Stonewell in the entrance hall.

“The TV vans are still here,” Maddie says, her gaze turned to the school's sidewalk. “They're interviewing students. Traitors.”

“Are TV people that bad ?” I ask, looking at the same thing she is. Groups of kids are talking to cameras with visible enthusiasm.

“Yes. Don't talk to them, okay ?” Emilia's angry. Her grip tightens around my arm. “They're assholes. No sense of privacy.” They must have done something to her.

“Alright.” I say solemnly.

“Take your collar off, we're not getting caught this time.” She's already putting her cane away, and extends her hand to me, waiting for my collar.

Ms Stonewell parks her car on the other side of the alley, as far away from the vans as she can. We make a run for it and this time we get through without being spotted.

[cajunroe]

winnix + one is presumed dead!au ↳ nix has always erred on the side of caution. he was careful to open up, to make friends, to fall in love. he knew how fickle and cruel life could be and he decided at an early age that it was easier to live rather than lose. but once he met dick, everything change. he found out that risks were were worth it. it was worth it to have dick as his best friend, even if he lost him. then dick kissed him and it his risk taking grew. he fell in love so easily that it surprised him. everything with dick was so simple and he found no reason to fear what he feared for so long. then dick goes on assignment for three weeks. when dick joined the fbi, about two years after they’d met, nix was terrified. it was bad enough when dick was a cop, but the fbi was higher profile, more danger, and greater risk. but then dick came home every night and nix got used to it. he forgot about the danger because dick always came home safely. until he doesn’t. until there’s an explosion and everyone is presumed dead. until he’s told his husband is dead. and all of his caution in life was for naught. because dick had destroyed him the moment he walked into his life. and nix knew something like this was going to happen...he just thought they’d both make it out alive. 

when someone dies, it’s impossible to gauge how far their loss goes and how many people’s live are forever changed.

nix didn’t care about those people. they didn’t have their husband taken form them. they didn’t have to plan a funeral while being completely hollow and numb. they didn’t have to answer one hundred and one questions about their husband. they didn’t have to bury an empty box because their husband’s body couldn’t be identified. 

no.

all they had to worry about was making sure nix knew they were sorry. and it was enough.

nothing was enough.

nix was empty and void of any emotion. he could even find the anger his friends were telling him to feel. he had nothing. dick had become his everything. and no there was nothing. he was nothing. 

he’s staring at the backyard for their dogs to run around. where dick would bbq on fourth of july for their chosen family. where they could watch the stars shine and snow fall. where they would grow old together.

now, with the rain pouring onto it, nix saw nothing. just wood and grass. plain and empty.

he’s too busy staring and trying not to think, that he doesn’t hear someone come through the door.

“lewis,” nix recognizes the voice and knows who it is because only one person in the world calls him lewis - not lew or nix - just lewis.

“hiya kitty.” nix tries to smile but he’s sure he doesn’t.

kitty pulls a chair up beside him and joins his staring.

“what’re we looking at?”

nix sighs, for lack of a better thing to do, “an empty future.”

kitty smiles, “oh well so long as it’s not about the fact that the grass needs cut.”

nix smiles and damns kitty for always being able to do that.

he hears rumbling in the kitchen and knows harry is here too.

“so what brings the welsh's to my dreary abode.”

“oh we’ve just been too happy and need to be brought down a notch.”

god, nix loved kitty so much. harry and dick had been partners for so long and nix found solace and camaraderie with kitty because she understood all of his reservations and fears. not to mention they never placated one another and always made the other laugh. she was his best friend.

“i do try my hardest to accommodate guests.”

kitty smiled, not sad or annoyed, just comforted in nix being able to be so open with her.

harry walked into the back room, a sandwich in hand, and nix smiled at the familiar sight.

“hey nix, you’re all outta booze.”

kitty glared but nix just laughed.

“i wonder why, har.”

kitty looked uncomfortable and nix knew her well enough to know she knew something she wasn’t saying. 

“why are you guys here? really?”

harry swallowed heavily, but his voice gave nothing away.

“the, uh...the office needs to talk to you about his insurance.”

“now? i have to go to the cemetery and finalize everything.”

kitty grabbed nix’s hands that had started shaking without his knowledge.

“we’ll taking you after, lewis. just come with us.”

something was still off about her tone, but nix was too numb to question it further.

kitty helped him pick out a nice outfit and finish shaving when he couldn’t look at his reflection anymore.

she dried his tears and helped him pick himself back up off the ground.

they walked back downstairs and nix could tell harry wanted to say something but he felt kitty shake her head no from beside him.

he really loved his best friend.

they all climbed into the car and nix was asleep before they hit the highway.

nix was in and out of consciousness for the ride and only caught glimpses of kitty and harry’s conversations.

he has to know, harry.

fuck protocol and fuck the bureau, kitty. if this is how they chose to handle this, i don’t want to work for them anymore.

i don’t know how he’s going to handle it. it could kill him, harry.

he’s already dead, kit. i have to try.

he heard car doors slam and he shot up from where he fell asleep against the window.

groggy he pulled himself out of the car and wiped his eyes.

“did you take the backroads or something, har? that was a long ride.”

he opened his eyes to a large log cabin and surrounded by trees. 

he looked to see harry and kitty holding onto one another and kitty looked scared.

“what’s going on?”

harry whistled and nix followed harry’s gaze to the entrance of the cabin.

and when he finally realized what he was seeing his heart stopped.

it couldn’t be.

it was impossible. 

nix was speechless. 

he was confused. 

he was pissed.

he didn’t know who to yell at first.

his husband’s partner for hiding this from him from the start. his best friend for deceiving him for weeks. or his husband for not being dead.

he chose all three at once.

he shouted, “fuck you all.”

and then, because he had nowhere else to go, he got back in the car. 

he saw out of the corner of his eye harry and kitty walking towards dick and holding him back.

then nix realized that what he was doing. he husband was alive and he was pouting in the car like a child.

sure it was one of the worst things that anyone can do, but he was sure there was a reason that it had to be hidden and he’s sure harry and kitty were there everyday to make sure he was okay.

but none of that mattered anymore because dick was alive and nothing on earth could make nix happier. 

nothing could stop him from holding onto his husband and never letting go. 

he rushed out of the car and started running towards dick.

he saw dick push past kitty and harry and run towards him.

they met in the middle and crashed into one another, lips connecting and arms wrapping and holding onto one another tightly.

it was a long time before they pulled apart, even so they were only separated by an inch, forehead resting against one another.

“you,” was all nix could get out. he was panting and he felt like he was about to pass out from joy.

“me?”

and god, nix never thought dick’s voice could sound more beautiful, but that one words was more memorable than his vows.

“i hate you.”

dick laughed.

“i know.”

“you died.”

nix shivered and dick pulled him in tighter.

“almost.”

“i almost died too.”

dick sighed and kissed nix desperately, both of them had tears streaming down their faces.

they pulled apart again and nix finally opened his eyes and he fell to the ground, dick following him down.

nix couldn’t keep his hands off his husband’s face.

“y-you’re here. you’re alive.”

dick smiled and nix kissed him again.

“i’m alive.”

“fuck.”

“i’m sor-”

nix place a hand over his mouth.

“don’t. don’t ever apologize for this. i don’t care and i don’t want to hear it. you’re here, that’s all that matters.”

dick smiled and kissed nix again and god nix was drowning and it’d never felt so good.

harry let out a wolf whistle and they two of them pulled apart laughing.

“he’s a real asshole sometimes.”

dick sighed, “yeah but he saved my life so i tolerate him.”

nix’s face grew serious in understanding, “that’s how he knew. he got you out.”

dick nodded with a smile, “and you know he can’t keep anything from kitty even if he tried.”

nix smiled, “he’s the worst liar.”

they just stared at one another for a long time, the sun shining on them and breeze blowing around them in a gentle caress.

it was perfect. like he was seeing his life in an entirely new light. 

“lewis! harry is cheating at scrabble. please come beat him so he shuts up.”

dick stood up and held out a shaky hand, like he was worried that nix wouldn’t grab it. 

but he had nothing to be worried about. nix had chosen dick from the day they met. he’d been lost and then everything in his life had made sense. like everything in his life had been build up to richard winters. and it felt like that now. that even dick’s “death” was part of the journey they were supposed be on. 

dick smiled - knowing, loving, and fearing - and asked something that he’d never thought he’d hear coming from his husband.

dick jerked his head toward the cabin, “going my way?”

nix smiled and let dick pull him up off the ground.

dick looked deep into nix eyes, the way no one else was able to.

“i love you lewis nixon. i’ll love you ‘til the end of time.”

nix pulled him into a gentle but powerful kiss, pouring everything he couldn’t put into words.

they pulled apart but kept their hand entwined as they climbed the stairs.

“harry welsh, borange is not word and you don’t get that triple word score!”

“kitty you’re just saying it wrong!”

“i will divorce you.”

nix started laughing as they walked into the cabin and as he watched dick open the door for him, he knew that no matter what, dick would always be worth the risk. 

anonymous - thank you so so much!

send me a pairing and an au and i’ll make an aesthetic post + ficlet

[rarestereocats]

rundown of tonight’s game!

we started our pre-game off great when discussion of whether or not Optimus Prime is a fascist came to light and then upon discussing transformer balls in the movies,  i left a wonderful “AUTO BALLS ROLL OUT” in the chat.  i also learn that Tenin doesn’t float like i’ve thought this entire time so my entire world is shattered.

as the fey vampire babushka thing dies,  she mutters something sweet under breath like the bitch she is and Tenin feels weak in the knees.  literally.  Tenin got his shit fucked up with a curse everyone and i bet he’s sworn off women now.  we head back to camp and sleep like little babes after we make sure nothing else can attack us.

upon waking up,  i’m amazed as i look over and Industria has sprouted white angel wings that glitter gold in sunlight.  like cue the heavenly choir on that shit cuz it’s pretty as fuck!  i ask her about it and then she lets me touch the wings and they are  S O F T.  so we pack up and move towards the sound of running water as we wanna get our fishing game on.

we find a cave and look,  after everything we’ve been through with that fucking spelunking adventure a few sessions back,  we don’t want what that dark hole is offering.  no more glory holes in the middle of nowhere,  please.  We Are Tired.  but after reading some thieves’ cant and realizing the water is unsafe,  we all decided this cave is our new home and began our trek through.

BUT GODDAMN,  the cave is a fucking illusion (obligatory song for this campaign apparently??) and at this point,  my illusionary magic PTSD should be cured by exposure therapy.  behind it is a sign that reads “Haven for lost children.  Harbor”.  we head inside and it’s a village in the trees literally full of children.  we meet their leader,  Luska,  and she talks of how children keep going missing.  since we need to meet the Guardian and Luska is meeting them in 3 days,  we decided to help these kids out.

these kids are ridiculous though cuz get this.  they don’t fucking age.  they went missing elsewhere and somehow ended up here with no recollection of what happened and some of them haven’t aged in centuries.  these children are literally just fucking KFC for fey and are getting picked off by the day,  but they’re pretty casual about it.  as Luska gathers some resources for us to look into this,  we head to the cafe and have a lovely time.  Samuel and Xaren share cookies,  and both me as a player and Kina as an individual,  ship it.

as we search the homes of the missing,  Xaren finds many journals that derail into paranoid rambling.  i find some claw marks by a bed and we relay that information to the other group as they search some other homes.  Elathera,  Industria,  and Rikius begin concocting a plan to lure the creature out as they realize it’s a bogeyman.  these things feed on fear,  so best option?  scare somebody and use them as bait.

now here’s the things,  kids.  we are literally in a village chock full of kids.  you know what scares easily?  children.  but what do they decide on?  lets cast fear on good ol’ Kina and leave her as bogeyman bait cuz hey,  at least i can hold my own right??   pile that PTSD on,  folks.  for her,  this entire campaign is turning into PTSD&D: Mental Trauma in a Basket.  the worst part?  they decided not to tell me this plan.

they go on a shopping trip for the supplies they need to destroy my mental state and Industria offends Rikius by implying he was an evil wizard at some point.  so she continues her beautiful crusade of offending men (#feminism),  they get their gear,  and roll out.  we all meet up at the inn.  we manage to scare the shit out of the child innkeeper and Industria makes him cry,  so now we quickly work to build this child back up and assure him nothing is absolutely gonna go wrong.

we head off for our rooms and everyone else gathers elsewhere to discuss this plan.  Xaren and Samuel are not having this shit and god bless their fucking souls cuz as Industria mentions something of dying as a risk,  Samuel storms off to find me and tell him, what’s going on.  i am pissed.  i am upset.  my own friends were planning this behind my back and didn’t wanna warn me,  so my fur bristles and i just wanna go ham;  but then Industria closes the distance to explain.

as she explains,  in understand.  best option,  less opportunities for causalities and loss of innocent lives.  i’m not happy,  but i reluctantly agree to be the bait.  we say good-night,  i thank Samuel and Xaren for alerting to me,  and Industria comes into my room to talk.  we have a tender heart-to-heart,  a sisterly moment,  and hug it out.  i tell Industria that i know they all have my back,  so it’ll be fine.  we then get our gossip on,  talking but that Juice.  Elathera and Tenin being an item?  Industria says she caught them in bed and my theory’s proven true.  she heads on out,  reluctantly.

she gets back top the room and her and Elathera have a big talk about what happened that morning.  she tells Elathera to put a sock on the door when Tenin comes in to “practice his sword” and Elathera is mortified.  red in the face,  she says she has something to show Industria,  but Industria doesn’t wanna see it thinking she’s about to get an eyeful of the Nasty.  she makes her watch as she swaps places with Tenin,  but instead of realizing what’s happening,  Industria assumes Elathera ran off out of embarrassment. 

Xaren is pacing in his room,  fuming,  still upset about all of this.  Samuel and him have another romance movie moment as they have these tender,  heart-to-heart chats.  as they bond,  Samuel places his hand on Xaren’s,  who blushes and both get awkward as they pull away and say good-night quickly.  bounce back to me and Rikius and i tell him i had a horrifying revelation.  he looks up from his book.  “that explains the harness.”.  he laughs,  but says the Elathera/Tenin thing is a joke.  i tell him i know better than that cuz i’ve been traveling with them all long enough to know the truth.

Rikius asks me if the Braid Bandit will strike again so i nervously said that’d be fucked up considering current circumstance.  he shakes his head and goes back to meditating.  come morning,  everybody is downstairs when i get up with the sicks ass Blackbeard-esque braids i put in my mane.  i head on down and try to accuse the Braid Bandit of striking again,  but i think everyone’s tired of that shit.  as the day goes by,  i take the braids out and brush the mane out.

come sundown,  it’s go time.  we pick an abandoned house and they all send me up alone as they turn invisible and get into position.  i head in as the wind picks up and the darkness settles and let me tell you,  i am already unnerved.  i do not like this.  as i sit down on the bed,  Rikius moves in and casts fear and now i’m panicking.  as the bogeyman closes in,  i go full fluff and cower into the corner,  not sure what to do.

our brawl with the bogeyman is textbook “believe it or not,  this isn’t the worst day we’ve had” as our plan just falls to pieces.  the bait works!  i am perfect bait!  but we sprung the trap too soon,  so the bogeyman kicks everybody’s shit in as Rikius stays inside to keep an eye on me and drop the fear spell.  as i’m in the corner,  eternally sobbing,  i hear one of my friends scream out in agony and then nothing.  it was Industria after seeing a sight that horrified her completely thanks to the bogeyman.  probably images of Ryan Cabrera’s hair.  have you seen that shit?  i’d die too.  she goes down,  face down in the dirt as this fucker continues punishing us.

as i finally come to my senses too quickly and race outside hoping that my friends are alive.  as i leave,  Rikius fires off at the bogeyman with a scorching ray and nearly kills it.  without a second of hesitation,  Xaren punches the shit out of this thing until it’s dead.  Elathera panics at the sight of Industria and feeds her a potion to bring our girl back to us.  as she does that,  Tenin angrily roars and stabs the corpse.

we regroup and get ready to go see Luska to let her know what’s up.  Xaren asks me if I’m alright and when i say no,  he offers a hug that i take.  Samuel joins our hug and then picks us both up and as my friends fill Luska in,  i pass out and Samuel takes me back to the inn to tuck me in.  after,  everybody else goes to get dinner and burns the body.

Industria spends the night practicing and playing her new lyre she took from the corpse.  Xaren and Samuel have another date at the cafe where Xaren is haunted by the spirit of my voice telling him to kiss him.  i’m plagued by nightmares and go to longingly stare out the window and Rikius asks if i need to talk.  i tell him i’m bad at that sort of thing and he says he is too,  so we quietly sit in each other’s company as i watch the forest,  fluffed up,  and purring.  i fall asleep,  loafed into the window.

as i wake up,  still loafed into the window and purring,  Rikius is leaning against the wall and waiting for me.  he’s trying to be subtle,  but hey,  boy.  ;)

we meet everyone downstairs and and we’re all a little tired and disheveled.  my mane is a mess and as soon as Industria mentions we’re meeting the Guardian today,  i panic and began brushing my mane out fiercely.  Rikius and Samuel help me brush my giant mane and I Am Ready.  Rikius fixes his hair and checks his stubble to make sure it’s still acceptable.  he turns to me for second opinions and i give him a thumbs up,  so like,  we’re getting there,  folks.  he’s mine.

we finally meet the Guardian.  a hamadryad named Andruw Mar.  we return their book and they seem delighted to see it again.  we speak and learn that the Svartalfar are trying to take down the Guardian and his people to get back to the Feywild and do Naughty Things,  so we agree to help them out so long as they consider negotiations to ally themselves with our nation.  the Guardian agrees and hands us a fancy card to give to New Thaddeus as a way of showing their good fiath so long as we keep our word.

and that’s where we let off.

[brettanomycroft]

Swamped [Kidge Cryptid Hunt Oneshot, VLD]

“Why else do you think I would insist we come here before we started on our Swamp Ape hunt?” she asks.

“Because we needed cookies?”

She flings her hands up, and the bag of cookies nearly flies off her arm.

“Because we needed to harness Publix's mystical force to aid us in our quest!” she exclaims. Her voice deepens, heightening her drama. “Dark Publix, show me the Cryptids!”

Author’s Note: This was completely self-indulgent. I’m a 3rd or 4th generation Florida native and have spent all but a few years of my life in this lovely, strange state. All but one thing written here about Florida is fact, which is that I don’t think there are two Publix across the street from one another in Cape Canaveral, but there sure are in the town I live in now. Thank @stardusted for the inspiration and planning. She started this. Not me.

Fandom: Voltron Legendary Defender Paring: Keith x Pidge Words: 6101 Tags: Swamp Ape, gratuitous Florida, barely edited, bonding, sass, snark, more Florida, mosquitoes, kissing, cute shit, rednecks.

Read on AO3 "Flashlights?"

"Check."

"Water bottles?"

"Check."

“Camera?”

Keith turns in his seat towards Pidge and presses the button on a boxy, plastic camera. A flash goes off. She pouts, but for once keeps both hands on the steering wheel, rather than trying to retaliate.

“Digital and disposable, check,” he says with a grin.

“I can't believe they still sell those. At least if that picture is terrible, I can physically burn it.”

“It won't be,” Keith says.

Pidge’s brows raise. It takes her a moment to resume going through her mental checklist. “Bug spray?”

“Like a gallon of it. Are you sure this isn't overkill?”

"Look, Toto, we're not in the desert anymore, so unless you want the mosquitoes to turn you into a prune so you can start planning your early retirement to Boca, then we're going to need alllllll that bug spray. You've gotta trust me, I'm the expert here. Now, do we have the cookies?”

He looks down at the disposable camera. Suddenly, the process of winding it to the next picture is the most important task in the world.

“Uh…”

The clicking sound as he winds the camera bridges the silence.

"You forgot to grab the cookies?" she asks in a low voice.

"My arms were full carrying all the bug spray!" Which is how Keith finds himself in the middle of an aisle at a grocery story that is surprisingly nice considering he lost cell service thirty minutes ago and still isn't sure if Pidge sneezed in the middle of telling him the name of the "town" they were stopping in.

For an intergalactic pilot, his Earth-side travel had been limited to the desert outskirts beyond The Garrison and a few big cities he visited with his dad, cities that seem more haze than memory now. The maze of palm trees and identical ranch homes the Holts lived in mystified him, and the rural, ramshackle spots he and Pidge had stopped off at when they needed gas were downright eerie. And while he really doesn't get how peanut butter cookies are crucial to the cryptid-hunting process, he's more than willing to give Pidge credit for taking them to what seems the likeliest place for downhome folklore to become fact.

Assuming they ever get out to the site. By the time Pidge decides which brand of cookie to get, the team’s “Voltron Spring Break 2020” will be well over. He wonders how the locals would take to the sight of a massive, glowing UFO appearing over their neighborhood Publix.

“Why don't you just get the ones from the bakery?” he asks.

She looks over her shoulder and rolls her eyes as if he’s asked the most obvious question in the world. Keith gets the sense that she’d wave a dismissive hand in his direction, if both weren’t occupied with two different boxes of cookies.

“The bakery cookies come in those child-proofed plastic containers,” she says, “meaning they’ll make way too much noise to open and close any time we want to eat during the hunt.” The follow up *duh* is unspoken.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Keith leans against the shelves opposite her, careful not to disturb the rows of crackers. “You’re the expert,” he replies, voice going flat so that she could tell just *how impressed* he was.

Pidge puts one of the packages of cookies back on the shelf. She must hear his sigh of relief, though, because a moment later she locks eyes with him and makes a slow reach for another type of cookie.

“Come *on* Pidge.”

A wicked grin stretches slow across her face. “Why don't you go grab another bottle of bug spray while I finish picking out the cookies?”

Keith shakes his head and crosses to Pidge’s side of the aisle. Stretching past her, he picks the box of cookies Pidge just set down, and another box of the ones she still has in hand.

“It's a conspiracy,” he says gravely. “No one needs that much bug spray unless they've got a vested financial stake in it. I refuse to to help you serve the secret interests of Big DEET, Pidge.”

“While in most cases I'd be inclined to agree with you,” she says, “This time, your theory neglects to take into account one important variable: we're in Florida, a state that is more bug than land.”

“Sounds like something a Big DEET lackey would say to cover up their connections.” He pauses to stick out his tongue in response to hers. “Forget the extra bug spray, let’s roll.”

With a dramatic, long-suffering sigh, she sets down the cookies in her hand and follows him towards checkout. When he glances back, he can see the tell-tale tight lips of one trying their best to hold back a smile.

The two of them ignore the strange looks they get from the cashier as they unwind the secret plottings of Big DEET and the significance of OFF™. They pay, and Keith hands the plastic bag filled with cookies to Pidge. She immediately tries to push it back to him, but he sidesteps and comes in with a “You know, we're standing in the most intriguing Florida conspiracy I’ve ever witnessed, but I haven't heard anyone question it.”

Already curious, she doesn't try to hand the bag off to him again. Success.

“What are you talking about?”

The cashier stares hard at them, face still fixed in a smile, but ready for them to clear out so she can finish with the customers behind them. Keith ignores her in favor of making a wide, sweeping gesture towards the grocery store around them.

“Publix. Ever since we landed, it's all I ever hear your mom and dad and Matt talk about. Even you've started doing it. 'Keith, you haven't lived until you've had a Pub Sub,’ and 'I know we stopped at Publix earlier, but let’s go pick up this other thing.’ It goes on.” Pidge nods along, glee filling her face.

“I'm pretty sure everything in your house is Publix brand,” he continues, “and three days ago, when your dad was driving us around town, I saw two Publix across the street from one another…And both were packed. Everyone here has an unnatural obsession with this store.”

The cashier finally shoos them towards the exit. They stop once they reach the parking lot, where Pidge reaches up to cup his cheek. She shakes her head.

“Oh, poor, naive Keith,” she says, doing her best to keep a straight face. “The Publix Phenomenon isn't a conspiracy if everyone knows about it and is willingly accepting. Every Florida child grows up learning of the strange contract made between the Jenkins family and a powerful, interdimensional entity. No one cares because Publix is the best.”

Her words pick up momentum, excitement and investment in the ridiculous story growing. Her eyes crinkle at the corners and he's not entirely sure if it's her pulse or his that he feels at the point where their skin meets.

Her hand drops. Keith exhales, letting go a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

“Why else do you think I would insist we come here before we started on our Swamp Ape hunt?” she asks.

“Because we needed cookies?”

She flings her hands up, and the bag of cookies nearly flies off her arm.

“Because we needed to harness Publix's mystical force to aid us in our quest!” she exclaims. Her voice deepens, heightening her drama. “Dark Publix, show me the Cryptids!”

She holds her pose for a few long ticks before they both dissolve into laughter. Clutching at his stomach, Keith doubles over, gasping as he tries to speak.

“And here this whole time I thought you were weird. Turns out you're just Floridian,” he manages.

“Hey! I resemble that remark!”

Pidge chases him all the way back to the car, both cackling as she tries to nail him with the wildly swinging bag of cookies.

…

It's another 30 minute’s drive out to the location Pidge has found for their Swamp Ape stakeout. The sun is low in the sky and right in their faces, but the car’s A/C is cold and conversation engaging. Pidge once again shares how she found the spot: a combination of digging through forums and coding a program that took location and environmental data from the various sightings and calculated the best possible area for spotting the cryptid. Keith's heard the story three or four times by now, but doesn't begrudge her excitement. Once she’s done, he retells his story of how his attempts at tracking down the Thunderbird ended up with him trespassing on Garrison property before he was even a cadet. Pidge always laughs at the part where he evaded Iverson by making terrible bird calls, so it’s worth the embarrassment of recreating the scene.

Between laughing at themselves and the dense forest that crowds the single lane highway they’re cruising down, Pidge misses the turn off. They’re alone on the straight, narrow road, so Pidge lets out her choicest of expletives and pulls a U-turn right in the middle of it. Both of their phones are without signal, but Keith had gone the old school route and printed out the map as well, so after a few miles going under the speed limit and another U-turn, they find their road.

Loose gravel crunches under car tires. A plume of dust rises up behind them. Keith stares out the windows, transfixed by the way the trees flit by. His eyes catch on shadows and shapes further back in the woods: trees, no doubt, but in the growing twilight he swears he sees something dart away.

Being a paladin of Voltron came with no shortage of action and excitement. They were constantly on guard, always ready for the next fight. But this is a different prickling in his stomach. This is a pick up in his pulse that he hasn’t felt since he was fourteen and scrambling under a break in the fence at The Garrison. He glances over at Pidge. Her attention is glued to the path ahead, but there’s the hint of a grin at her lips. Her hands flex and tighten on the steering wheel.

The road dead ends at a small clearing of grass. Pidge parks the car. At the far end of the clearing, a few knobbly fence posts do their best to hold back the forest. Pidge turns to him, vibrating in anticipation. Her eyes are bright, a hint of gold lit in the setting sun.

“Ready?” she asks.

“Beyond ready.”

Keith opens the passenger door, slides out, and shoulders his backpack. From the side pocket, he withdraws his knife and returns it to its proper place on his hip. Pidge had assured him that open carry was a thing in Florida, but he hadn’t wanted to take chances. The weight of his blade at his side kickstarts the pounding of his heart, sending it to his ears. He can see Pidge getting geared up on the other side. She bounces from foot to foot, tests the weight of her backpack, and consults the compass clipped to her shorts.

“Let’s roll. We’ve got an hour or so until sundown.”

They cross the clearing. Long grasses and weeds tickle and stick at Keith’s ankles. He regrets not wearing jeans, but Pidge had insisted that he’d die of heat stroke before they found the Swamp Ape if he did.

Pidge stops between two of the fence posts. Barbed wire coils between the posts, the “NO TRESPASSING” sign attached to it faded but sturdy. She doesn’t hesitate or turn towards the car. He can’t hold back a grin as she pulls a pair of thick work gloves and her bayard from the side pocket of her backpack and goes, “Care to do the honors?”

“Nah, go for it. I broke the law last time.”

She chuckles, tugs on the gloves, and dispatches the barbed wire with little effort.

“Remind me to fix that on the way out,” she says.

“Fix that on the way out,” he replies.

“You’re *so* helpful.”

With her gloves, she holds the barbed wire back, allowing him to pass. He reaches up and ruffles her hair once he’s safely past the sharp metal.

“I try,” he says.

He walks two or three yards into the forest, then turns when he doesn’t hear Pidge’s footsteps behind him. Rather than the expected look of disgust, she stares at him with an expression that falls somewhere between impish and downright devious.

“You’re forgetting something, Keith,” she says in a singsong voice.

“And what’s that?”

From the bottle holder of her backpack, she yanks out not a bottle of water, but a massive can of bug spray.

“Spray down time.”

Groaning, Keith trudges back to her.

“Repellent?” he asks. “I thought that’s why I had you and your personality here.”

And, as he deserves, Pidge hits him in the pants with a long shot of the wet, citrus-smelling stuff.

…

Their little camp is little more than a blanket laid out on the ground and their backpacks leaned up against the wide trunk of an oak. They’d walked maybe a mile or two from the clearing until Pidge had dubbed them sufficiently far enough from civilization for a Swamp Ape to appear. Settling in, they’d gotten out their individual field notebooks, water, and one of the boxes of cookies. And then, the wait began.

There’s desert hot, and then there’s *this*, and *this* is misery. Oftentimes when Pidge had talked about home, she’d referred to it as “the swamp”, but in the cool expanse of space, it had been hard to imagine. Keith ought to have figured it out as they were flying in, when he’d seen from Red’s viewscreen the long tracts of murky green, but Pidge had been chattering away over their private channel about how great it was going to be to see her family and take him out on a proper cryptid hunt, so it hadn’t really hit him.

The heat doesn’t just swelter, it clings. Walking through a wall of food goo would have been easier and more pleasant than what they’re sitting in now. The lowering sun provides as little relief from the heat as do the pines that stretch above them. If anything, the trees trap the humidity in. Pidge runs a can of soda along her forehead and cheek. The hair from her ponytail that isn’t plastered to her neck curls and frizzes.

A buzzing at his ears tells him that despite all the bug spray, he’s about to become dinner; he swats at the mosquito near his neck and lands a hit. When he pulls his hand away to look, its a mess of sweat, dirt, and a smear of blood. Keith decides then and there that the only good thing to come from Florida is Pidge, and even right now, she’s not earning many points. He should have gone to Disney with Lance, Hunk, and Allura, or stayed in Cape Canaveral and gone bar-hopping with Shiro, Matt, and Coran.

“Why did we have to choose to hunt the Swamp Ape?” he grumbles. “Why couldn’t it have been the Beach Ape, or better yet, the Indoor Air Conditioning Ape?”

“Because those aren’t legendary monsters, those are tourists,” she says. “I know the heat’s shitty, but shut it. All your complaining will scare off the Swamp Ape.”

He’s not sure if he should feel relieved to know from the sting of her words proved the heat was getting to her too, or offended by her jab. Pidge could get downright nasty when the mood struck - her sense of tact and social etiquette were about as refined as his - but most of the time he had the privilege of being the observer, not the recipient.

And maybe she realizes her harshness: a few ticks later, she pulls a chilled soda from her bag and waves it in front of him.

“Cool off?” she asks, as close to an apology as he can expect.

“Yeah, sure.”

She slides the can up his arm, giggling when he jumps at the cold contact on his skin. A trail of goosebumps follows the condensation the can leaves as she rolls it over his shoulder and up his neck.

The next two hours pass easier with Pidge recling on her backpack next to him. They split a beer Keith nicked from Lance; not because either of them were too young to buy their own, but because watching the confused look dawn on Lance's face the next morning as he counted the drinks left and tried to compare it to what he was sure he’d drunk the night before was one of their new favorite things. In low whispers they exchange what they know about their quarry, from the accounts they’d each read about to their own pet theories. There’s an undertone of hope, as if talking about the Swamp Ape might make it appear, but instead the sun sinks below the horizon and the mosquitoes come out in full force.

Keith had the foresight to bring a deck of cards, so they flip on the lantern Pidge packed and run through their options. Egyptian Rat Screw is out of the question - too loud - but they play a few good rounds of Rummy, Crazy Eights, and a game Coran had taught them called Yarbling Yellmore. Pidge then cajoles him into a game of Go Fish, which is unfair when they both know she’s the reigning Go Fish champion back on the Castle.

“Got any… threes?” she asks.

“Go Fish,” he says, trying to keep his voice as neutral as possible.

In the fuzzy blue light of the lantern, Keith sees Pidge give him a *look*. Her eyes narrow and she purses her lips.

“You’d better not be lying,” she mutters.

“I’m not. Go Fish.”

“Keith, this isn’t Bullshit, give me your goddamned three.”

She leans in. He resists the impulse to lean back, doing everything in his power to maintain his semblance of innocence.

“I already told you, I don’t have one. Go Fish.”

As if this weren’t the first time this has happened, Keith scrambles back on his butt the moment before Pidge launches herself at him. He keeps his card hand high in the air, out of her reach as she practically crawls over him on all fours.

“You’re such a shit,” Pidge swears, trying to swipe at his cards.

“What happened to being quiet?” he teases. He stretches his arm up even higher.

Of all of the paladins, he’s the shortest second to Pidge, but every bit of extra height counts in carrying on the game of keep-away. Her knee digs into his thigh and her hand is planted on his shoulder as she continues her futile attempts to snatch his cards from him. He tilts his head up to avoid getting a mouthful of green tee-shirt, only to come to close to getting a mouthful of something else. Pidge seems not to have noticed the precarious nature of their position or the red that floods his face. She leans in closer as she tries to leverage all the height she can to reach his cards.

“What happened to h-” Pidge starts, but her voice cuts off with a sharp squeak the moment after a loud rustle comes from the dark forest.

Their heads snap towards the sound. Beyond the circle of the lantern the forest is a patchwork of black and blacker. They both jump as a deafening crack of a tree branch snapped in half echoes around them. Without looking away from the verge of light and shadow, Keith plants his hands on Pidge’s hips to keep her from tumbling on top of him. His cards hit the ground with the faintest flutter. Pidge is too occupied to notice the pair of threes.

“Swamp Ape?” Pidge breathes.

“Dunno.”

The sound of scattering leaves and shaking foliage continues. A chorus of pops and cracks surround them. Pidge tenses under his hands.

“Flashlight?”

“Closest one is in my backpack. Front pocket,” he whispers.

Pidge slides off of him and inches towards his backpack. With aching slowness she undoes the zipper, trying to make as little noise as possible. The unseen source of the rustling nears; Keith can practically taste the tang of his heart in his mouth. Whatever it is, it's almost at the edge of their makeshift camp.

“Gotcha,” Pidge hisses. She stands, Keith's flashlight in hand, and swings the beam of light towards the noise.

Three small, bulbous shapes give off a dull shine in the light. They freeze in the middle of their rooting around in the dirt. Black beady eyes peer out at them. Pidge lets out a long string of expletives that ends in “Quiznaking armadillos.”

Tension drains from Keith's body, and he falls back on the blanket. He needs a minute to get the painful pounding of his heart back to a healthy tempo. He hears Pidge stomp around and kick up leaves and twigs to chase the small creatures away; the rustling they make as they scamper back into the forest isn’t even as close to as loud as it had seemed before.

Pidge collapses on the blanket next to him with a huff. They look at one another, and burst into laughter.

...

“We’re goinna give it thirty more minutes,” Keith insists, “and then call it quits. If the Swamp Ape doesn’t show up before then, it gets to keep its ‘Elusive’ status.”

The protest Pidge offers is garbled, drowsy.

“Beg pardon?” he says.

She shifts a little to look up at him, but her head remains planted on his shoulder. Her eyelashes flutter as she fights oncoming sleep.

“But I wanted you to have the coolest cryptid hunt ever,” Pidge whines. “Instead all we’ve had swampy weather and some stupid armadillos.”

Keith eyes the watch on his wrist. After having gotten used to the ticker he wore while in space, it takes him a moment to interpret. It’s already past midnight, and they’ve got a two hour drive back to Pidge’s house that Keith suspects he’ll be in charge of. He runs a hand over her hair, consoling.

“I’m having fun,” he says. “Swamp Ape or no Swamp Ape. What else do you think I’d want to be doing? Spending my Spring Break keeping Coran and Matt from starting bar fights? Spinning around in some silly bowls at an overpriced circus until I puked?”

Pidge chuckles, and scoots closer. She adjusts until it seems she’s found a more comfortable position leaning against him.

“One,” she starts, “don’t pretend like you wouldn’t be the first to start a bar fight.” Keith shrugs the best he can without disturbing her. “And two, don’t knock the teacups ‘til you’ve tried them. Outside of the mindlessly long lines the Disney Corporation uses to optimize harnessing of human soul energy, the parks are pretty great.”

“The only way any of that could be more entertaining than what we’re doing is if the bar fight was at Disney.”

They continue chatting, doing their best to keep the other awake for the final half hour of their quest. While not as oppressive as earlier, the air is still on the warm side, and between that and the lullaby-strains of frog song and insect hum, Keith knows he’s fighting a losing battle. He can see a pocket of stars through a break in the trees above, and decides he likes how pleasantly surreal it feels to be with Pidge looking up at the stars instead of down. His fingers absently toy with the end of her ponytail as they talk.

Ten minutes remain in their hunt when it happens.

It starts with the frogs. Pidge is the first to notice. She sits up.

“Hear that?” she whispers.

“I don’t hear anything.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

The forest is cloaked in odd silence. Keith feels very, very awake.

They sit in absolute stillness, and are rewarded a few seconds later by a long, deep howling sound. It’s too far off for Keith to figure out what direction it’s coming from, but it won’t be that way for long: it’s getting louder.

When he’d imagined the Swamp Ape, he hadn’t imagined the terrible crush of underbrush like thunder rising from the earth, hadn’t imagined the inhuman, reverberating roar, unlike anything he’s ever heard before. Blurry images of a tall, loping figure flash through his mind. All reports indicated it was fast, powerful. His paladin armor would be a blessing right about now.

Pidge grabs his hand and squeezes hard. She’s gone pale, and it’s clear the same thoughts are crossing her mind. Blindly, she fumbles for her backpack and feels around until she finds her bayard.

“Keith, if we die here,” she says, voice low and serious, “I want you to know that there’s no one else in the world I’d want to go cryptid hunting with and that I’d been hoping we could do that kind of stuff together for the rest of our lives, Voltron or no.”

Something pings in his brain at her words, something some part of him feels like he would be paying a lot more attention to if the angry bellowing of a charging creature weren’t headed straight for them. He stands, muscles tensing.

“We’re not going to die, Pidge,” he snaps. “We’re both trained warriors with space weapons going up against a big monkey.”

“Okay, well, yeah,” she says as she stands up, “but the adrenaline’s talking now and I don’t have a good brain-to-mouth filter under normal circumstances and monkeys and apes aren’t the same thing.”

Whatever beast is out there isn’t slowing down. Keith estimates they have maybe another twenty seconds before it reaches their camp.

Pidge and Keith turn to each other as one. And maybe the adrenaline has hit his bloodstream, or maybe her words catch up with him, or maybe this was going to happen the entire time and both of them were too wrapped up in the hunt to even notice, but it happens now: Keith slings his free arm around her waist and Pidge grabs his shoulder and their teeth click painfully as their lips collide once, twice, three times. He tastes peanut butter and mint gum when his tongue slides into her mouth. A soft whine rises from the back of her throat when they part for air, a sound he mimics when she sucks his bottom lip between her teeth a moment later. The roaring in his ears is either his heart or the Swamp Ape less than ten feet away, probably both.

Hand on his blade, he pulls away from her and turns to the source of the roar. Every muscle tenses, each nerve fires off with the command to defend: now that he's kissed Pidge, he's not about to let either of them get mauled by Redneck Sasquatch. Next to him, Pidge crouches low. Her bayard sparks to life, glow illuminating flushed cheeks and kiss-plush lips.

They’re hit with a bright blast of light. Keith throws up his arm but it’s too late, and he’s blinded. He holds his defensive stance and tries to blink his vision back.

“What the hell are ya’ll doin’ out here? This is my private property!”

As his eyes adjust to the light, it clarifies into two points - headlights. A loud motor revs and growls. Keith can just make out the darker outline of what looks like a 4-wheeler with a man atop it. He can’t see the expression on the man’s face, but the anger in his shout and the slender shadow of a shotgun make his facial features pretty unnecessary.

Pidge gets her words back first, but he swears he hears a slight twang to her voice that, should they make it out of this alive, he was definitely going to tease her for.

“Sir, we are so sorry, we did not mean any harm, you see, it’s just that we were out here lookin’ for, ah, uh…”

The man gives a contemptuous snort. “Lookin’ for what? Ain’t nothin’ but pine and cattle for a’hunnerd acres.” He turns his head towards Keith. “Nah, the only thing ya’ll’re lookin’ for was a real private place. Thinkin’ you could get some all the way out in the woods, huh boy?”

Keith tries to stammer out some sort of response, but he’s completely blindsided. He looks from the rancher, to the wrinkled blanket below his feet, to Pidge, wild hair mussed from a long night of humidity. It does look a lot like what the rancher was suggesting.

“No, that’s not-” Keith starts. “We weren’t doing anything!” He clenches his fists to keep himself from reaching for his knife. He’s been launched from one potential fight into another, and his body is still ready to go. Reason tells him that the last thing he needs to do is beat up some stranger in the deep woods of Florida, but instinct doesn’t like the way the man is staring the two of them down.

“We were looking for the Swamp Ape!” Pidge shouts.

Just like before, the entire forest goes quiet. Even the thrum of the 4-wheeler’s motor seems muted.

“The what?”

“The Swamp Ape,” Pidge repeats, sounding defensive.

A bark of laughter echoes around them. The rancher lowers his gun.

“Where you two from?” he asks.

“Cape Canaveral,” she says.

“You two came all the way out here from Canaveral lookin’ for that damn ape?” The man hoots and dissolves into great gasping bouts of laughter.

Keith takes a breath, stance relaxing. They were going to be all right. He sees Pidge deactivate her bayard.

“Yes Sir, we did.”

It takes three or four more staggering breaths before the man can speak again. “Girl, there ain’t been a sightin’ this far north in years. You gotta go down to the Everglades if you wanna catch a whiff a’ him.”

Pidge visibly deflates, shoulders sagging. The expression on her face as she turns to Keith is pure apology. He shrugs.

The rancher lets them pack up their things and escorts them back to the property line. He watches with an appreciative eye as Pidge uses her bayard to mend the cut barbed wire, then issues about as stern of a warning as he can muster.

“I figure ya’ll wastin’ your time out here for nothin’ is punishment enough.”

…

The drive back is quiet. Despite the chug of the A/C, the air feels thick. Keith stares out the window, but sneaks glances at Pidge when he thinks her attention is fixed on the road. He’d kissed her. She’d kissed him. Somehow, that discovery feels more monumental than 1,000 confirmed conspiracy theories.

He takes another chance at a glance, and finds her looking at him.

“I’d understand if you don’t want to go on anymore cryptid hunts,” she says in a quiet voice. “This was a total bust.”

He swallows hard and reaches out to fiddle with the air vent. It’s suddenly hotter than an afternoon in July. He shakes his head.

“I thought you said you wanted to do this kind of stuff together forever. I was starting to get pretty set on the idea.”

Pidge’s smile is soft. Keith assembles every last bit of courage that hasn’t been drained from the night’s events, and leans over to take the hand resting in her lap. Her fingers curl around his.

“You’re by far the best thing to come out of Florida,” he says.

If she thinks she can cover up how wide her eyes get, or the color that rushes to her cheeks with a sarcastic sounding, “Keith Kogane, that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” well, she’s wrong.

She holds his hand the rest of the drive home, not even letting go when she has to swerve around a pack of armadillos crossing the middle of the road.

…

3 AM has come and gone by the time Pidge navigates the car into the driveway. The Holt family home is dark but for a single stove top light in the kitchen, which allows Matt, the only one still awake, to give them a once-over. He sets aside the jar of peanut butter and spoon in hand and lets out a low whistle.

“No luck, huh?” he says.

Keith feels the mirth radiating from Matt as he takes in their matching sweat-drenched clothes and mud-flaked faces. He circles the kitchen island and plucks a small twig out of Pidge's hair.

“Three armadillos, an annoyed rancher, and a flock of mosquitoes,” Pidge mumbles.

“Not exactly the monsters you were looking for, then,” Matt says. “You’da had better luck coming out to the bar with me and Shiro and Coran. We ran into something inhuman tonight - dunno what it was, but Coran swore up and down that it wasn't an alien.”

Matt launches into a descriptive but somewhat slurred story about, from what Keith could gather in between the large clumps of peanut butter Matt starts eating again, Coran’s close encounter of the Texan kind. Keith's too tired to protest or be offended at Matt's descriptions of the tourist.

Keith and Pidge yawn in unison. He can feel sleep creeping up on him, and if he doesn’t go upstairs and shower soon, he’s going to fall asleep in the middle of the kitchen, coated in a thick layer of sweat and bug spray.

“Eh, well, you’ll have better luck next time,” Matt says. He tries to twirl his peanut butter spoon between his fingers, but it drops with a loud clunk. His eyes narrow as he shoots the spoon an accusing glare, then shrugs and scoops out some peanut butter with his finger instead.

“But just think,” Matt continues. “Maybe the real cryptid was the friends you made along the way”

Pidge glances at Keith. She bites her bottom lip, then looks away. Keith feels warm again. He, too, suddenly finds it hard to look at her.

Matt laughs. He looks like he’s about to pat Keith on the back, but reconsiders a moment later. Keith is pretty sure the stench coming from him and Pidge is potent enough to put the Swamp Ape to shame.

“I call first dibs on the shower,” Pidge announces.

She wraps his hand in hers and gives it a quick squeeze, then hurries upstairs before he can protest her shower dibs. He watches her climb up until she’s out of sight.

When Keith turns back, he meets Matt’s piercing stare. For all that Matt had been acting like he’d had a bit too much at the bars that night, the look he gives Keith now is both sober and sobering.

“Any theories on why you guys didn’t manage to find the Swamp Ape?” he asks. “Maybe a little too occupied with something else?”

After everything Keith has faced that night - mosquitoes, wild armadillos, unpredictable property owners - nothing chills his blood so much as the very Big Brother expression on Matt’s face.

“Apparently we were too far north for a good sighting,” Keith says quickly, “and if we wanted to actually track it down we’d have to go to the Everglades.”

“Next time, then,” Matt says. Keith shivers.

“Yeah, hopefully.”

“Maybe I’ll come along.”

“Yeah, sure thing, definitely,” Keith hedges. “Well, I’m exhausted soooo I’m just going to go upstairs now.”

Matt wishes him a ‘good night’ that sounds a lot like ‘I’d better not catch you doing anything with my sister’. Keith does his best to walk upstairs in a calm, collected manner. He’s so focused on avoiding a premature death that he nearly jumps out of his skin when Pidge swings up the door to her room and steps into the hallway.

She’s bundled in a towel, pajamas in hand, and her hair cascades down across her bare shoulders. All thoughts of Matt and dying vacate.

“I’m going to hop in the shower,” she says quietly.

“Don’t take too long. The only cryptid rarer than a Clean Pidge is a Pidge Shower that’s less than 45 minutes.”

Rolling her eyes, Pidge leans in and presses a light kiss on his lips.

“You’re lucky that Blushing Keith is my favorite cryptid,” she shoots back.

Stunned, he doesn’t manage his reply until she’s almost shut the bathroom door behind her.

“Well, you’re mine!” he says.

Keith counts it as a success when he hears a soft yelp and a drawn out “Stoooooop,” from the other side of the door.

[clan-fuildarach]

birthday 

fallon and emiliano hatch an egg and subsequently swear vengeance on atropa 

(uhhh some implied medical abuse in this one?? i mean the egg was a test subject after all)

~

Fallon's bedroom was fancy enough to have windows. A single shaft of moonlight slanted through the open shutters, cutting a slice through the warm darkness. Emiliano should have been asleep; he was actually planning to do his job the next day and he needed to be well-rested. But it was difficult.

He lay with Fallon, who was sound asleep, one leg thrown over Emiliano's hips. Fallon had fallen asleep with his hand wrapped securely around Emiliano's chest like a safety harness, but his grip had loosened and his arm now just hung over Emiliano's side, fingers just about grazing the crest of the egg in Emiliano's arms.

You were supposed to incubate eggs, right? Unless it was an ice egg, you had to keep them warm. So Emiliano and Fallon had taken turns carrying it around with them, hugging it close in their sleep so that the nightly temperature drop wouldn't affect it too badly. The egg was permanently wrapped in heavy oilcloth, to prevent any more damage to the broken patch on top.

The night stretched on. A night patrol moved through the corridor outside, their armour muffled by cloth padding so that they wouldn't make too much noise. That must have been the 3am patrol. Go to sleep, you idiot, Emiliano told himself sternly.

He couldn't. When he closed his eyes all he could see were jars of preserved corpses. He'd rescued the egg, but what about the ones he hadn't arrived in time to save? What if he hadn't noticed the secret passage to the torture room at all, and this time next week there was another jar on the shelf with another tiny corpse floating inside...

Atropa had not seemed affected at all by the egg's theft. Part of Emiliano knew that stealing one egg wouldn't matter at all when more eggs could be obtained. Maybe stealing the egg had been the cowardly option, after all, the action of someone who did not want to actually confront a monster.

And there was something else, too. Emiliano didn't know anything about Rosa, he hadn't even known she existed until pretty much the moment of her coronation, but that didn't mean she wasn't his sister. He couldn't imagine what he'd do if it was Essun in her place, caught in a political marriage with Atropa. Rosa deserved to be rescued just as much as the egg had. Not to mention Corin.

He hugged the egg tighter, his eyes screwed shut. Fallon murmured something indistinct under his breath, his tail coiling around one of Emiliano's legs.

A tiny squeak broke through his hopeless thoughts. He ignored it, suspecting mice, until it sounded again; longer, drawn-out, and undoubtedly originating from the egg in his arms. He stared down at it, his eyes going wide as it squeaked again.

He sat bolt upright. Fallon woke with a grunt of surprise, reaching up to scrub sleep out of his eyes.

“Emilio, what?” he mumbled.

Emiliano held out the egg, wordless. The squeaking was constant now, urgent.

“Oh,” Fallon said softly. Then, much louder, “Oh!”

“What's wrong with it?” Emiliano said, too shocked for common sense. “Is it dying?”

“No – no, I think... is it hatching?”

They cleared space on the bed, Emiliano shoving all the covers to the ground. Fallon set the egg down on the mattress between them and began to unwrap the oilcloth outer layer. As the cloth fell away, the bioluminescent patches on the egg threw an eerie blue glow over the scene. Emiliano had never seen the egg so bright.

The gash on top of the egg was leaking again, purple fluid leaking down the glowing sides. The cracks did not widen, though the squeaking grew almost frantic, hard to listen to.

“Should we help it?” Emiliano said. “It might be hurt... it had this metal thing stuck in it when I found it.”

“Maybe.” Fallon reached out, then pulled his hand back. “I read that you're not supposed to assist them unless it goes on for hours.”

They continued to watch the egg. It had started to rock. To prevent it falling over, Emiliano protectively arranged a barrier of pillows around it.

The squeaking cut off. Within seconds, the glowing patches had begun to fade, too. The egg lay still for a terrible minute.

“Fuck it.” Emiliano sprang off the bed and collected the letter-opener from Fallon's desk. Fallon didn't object, sitting aside as Emiliano took the point of the letter opener to the gash on top of the egg.

Emiliano had never been as careful with anything in his life. He worked slowly, widening cracks and lifting free chips of eggshell once they came loose. For the first time, the dragon in the egg was actually visible; tiny and gold, slick with amniotic fluid and curled so tightly around itself that it was almost impossible to tell what species it was. It was heartbreakingly still.

“Is it okay?” Fallon said, his voice tiny and faint. “Is it breathing?”

“I don't know...”

Eventually, enough of the egg had been chipped away to allow the tiny dragon to be lifted out. As soon as Emiliano touched its damp, soft scales, he felt it – a pulse. Small but steady. Tears spilled down Emiliano's cheeks, unnoticed. Fallon was staring, one hand covering his mouth.

It was a baby guardian, lying as if dead on the bedspread, its eyes still tight shut. For a moment Emiliano thought he was seeing something wrong, that something wasn't quite right – then he saw it, and it was like a punch in the gut.

The guardian's back was a scabby purple mess, some of the wound held shut by what looked like metal staples, some of it left bare and open. A few shreds of deep aubergine wing membrane remained in some areas, but that was all. The dragon had no wings.

Fallon silently reached for one of the blankets piled on the floor. While Emiliano simply stared in horror, Fallon used the corner of the blanket to gently wipe the egg fluid off the little guardian. He avoided the hideous wound on her back, skirting the uneven and puckered edges. Under his touch, the guardian moved for the first time, her claws catching on the sheets and her tail twitching. She didn't uncurl, though; it was probably impossible for her to do so easily with such a large scab on her back. No wonder she hadn't been able to hatch on her own.

Emiliano didn't know he was shaking until Fallon set a hand on his arm to steady him.

“You stay here with her, okay?” Fallon said softly. “I'll go and get a healer. I know a couple outside the fortress who won't ask questions. She'll be fine, Emiliano.”

“I...” Emiliano's hands had curled into fists. “I'm going to kill him, Fallon. I'm going to kill him.”

“I'm with you,” Fallon said, without hesitation, “but we'd better make sure she gets seen to first. Keep her warm... maybe don't touch her back.” His voice broke for a moment, betraying his own anger. He released Emiliano's arm, gave the tiny guardian an uncertain pat on the head, and left the room.

Emiliano tried to arrange the blankets and pillows around her the best he could, without letting anything come into contact with her back. He ended up lying beside her, exhausted but somehow full of energy all at once. His anger didn't fade, exactly, but it did take a back-seat to the more pressing issue of the guardian's well-being.

He talked to her, to help settle himself. “Hello. Uh, don't worry... Fallon is getting a healer for you. Fallon is my boyfriend, you just met him. I'm Emiliano. Do you need anything?” He'd read up on childcare but it seemed like all the knowledge he'd gained from the books had vanished into thin air.

The guardian squeaked, which was heartening.

“We can visit my mum tomorrow,” he said. “She... she might not be too thrilled, but at least you're a child and not a horrible painting, so she can't kick you out. Oh, I guess I should explain – so, um, my charge is a painting, and...”

When dawn arrived, bringing with it Fallon's return, Emiliano was still talking. He had a lot of story to tell.

[believingispowerfulmagic]

“Comfort Food” Part XXI: Sins of the Father

           Regina turned onto her block, her windows open to let in the warm breeze. Though the calendar had turned to October, the warm weather had stuck around. People were talking about an Indian summer and she was hoping it didn’t affect the apple trees. She was not going to be denied all her apple related treats.

           Neither was Robin.

           She spotted her husband out on their lawn as she pulled into their driveway, parking right next to his green SUV. He was setting up plastic headstones and two skeletons already tied to their porch blew in the breeze. Regina spotted orange lights set up along the railings and the door.

           When they bought the house the year before, John had happily sent over all of Robin’s beloved Halloween decorations. However, Robin had also gone out and gotten more now that he had a whole yard to decorate. She made sure he didn’t spend a small fortune but otherwise let him, knowing she would go just as crazy when it came to Christmas.

           Regina grabbed her bag and walked onto the lawn. Queen ran down from where she had been lying on the porch, jumping up to greet Regina. She crouched down to pet the dog. “Are you keeping Daddy company while he goes crazy decorating our house?”

           “Yes, she is,” Robin replied. “She’s just been lying on the porch watching me. Only moved once to bark at a passing dog, but otherwise she’s been fine.”

           “Good girl,” she cooed before standing up. Regina leaned over and kissed Robin. “Do you need any help?”

           He shook his head. “I think I’m good out here. I’ll probably need some help with the rest of the indoor decorations.”

           “Indoor decorations?” She frowned as he hadn’t hung anything inside the year before She imagined their house turned into a haunted house and doubted she could live like that for an entire month.

           “Relax,” he said, no doubt sensing her hesitation. “It’s just some things for the windows—spider webs, fake spiders, and some lights.”

           She relaxed, nodding. “Okay. I think I can handle that. Let me just go inside and change, okay?”

           “Of course, take your time. I have a few things left to finish.” He smiled at her.

           “Okay. Come on, Queen.” Regina motioned for the dog to follow her and Queen happily trotted by her side into the house.

           She quickly changed into a t-shirt and jeans, deciding to be comfortable while decorating. As she put her hair up in a ponytail, Regina watched as Queen pulled down her leash from its knob by the door. She took it in her mouth and sat at the door, looking at Regina expectantly.

           Chuckling, Regina picked up the pink harness as she opened the door. Queen carried her leash down the steps and walked right up to Robin, sitting at his feet. Regina dangled the harness over the side of the porch. “I think someone is going to need this.”

           He sighed, jogging over to take the harness. “Thank you. We’ll be right back.”

           “Take your time,” she replied. “I’ll get dinner started. You in the mood for anything in particular?”

           “I’ve been dying for that Thai peanut sauce you found online the other day. It looked so good.” He clicked the harness into place and then the leash as Queen sat at his feet.

           Regina smiled, remembering how he begged her to make it as a midnight snack. She hadn’t had all the ingredients needed so it was a no go, but she went out the next day and picked them up. Leaning closer, she nodded. “I have some spaghetti squash we can use.”

           “Sounds perfect.” He rose up on his toes to kiss her. “See you in a little bit.”

           “Be careful,” she called out before heading back into the house to gather the ingredients for dinner.

           As she entered the kitchen, a red blinking light caught her attention. She pressed the play button on their phone, letting the voicemails play as she bustled around the room.

           “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Locksley, this is Cleo Fox from the Avalon Adoption Agency. We’ve received your application and I’d like to set up an in person meeting to discuss the next steps. Please call me back at…”  

           She would have to go back to get the phone number as blood rushed to her head, pounding in her ears. An in-person meeting, next steps…all words that meant it was really happening. She and Robin were truly on their way to becoming parents. While she knew it would take time, she was still that much closer to having a child.

           Regina pressed play again, jotting down the phone number so she could call in the morning. Her hand shook as she looked over the paper, tears starting to form in her eyes. This was the key to her dreams coming true. She pressed it to her chest, imagining she was holding a warm and squirming baby instead.

           The door opened and she heard Queen’s nails clicking on the floor, the dull clack of her leash following them. Robin called out her name but the sounds didn’t stop until Regina opened her eyes to find Queen at her feet. The dog raised up on her hind legs as she waved her front ones in a begging position, her pink leash still trailing behind her.

           “Oh no,” Regina said, crossing her arms. “You know you don’t get a treat until after Daddy has taken off your harness and leash. Go.”

           She pointed toward the front door and Queen whined before heading back to Robin. Regina stood in the doorway, watching as her husband unclicked the leash and then took off the dog’s harness. He scratched behind her ear. “Go back to Mommy.”

           Queen turned around and raced back to the kitchen, begging at Regina’s feet again. Chuckling, Regina took out a treat and gave it to the dog. “Good girl,” she cooed.

           “You’re a softie,” Robin told her, wrapping his arm around her. He kissed the side of her head.

           She hummed, resting her hand on his arm. “You’re just as big a softie as me. Don’t deny it.”

           “Wasn’t going to.” He kissed her neck. “Everything okay, lovely? I know we weren’t gone long, but you haven’t started dinner.”

           Regina’s stomach churned as she nodded, picking up the paper with Cleo Fox’s information written on it. “We had a message on the phone.”

           His arms tightened around her as he read it. “An in-person interview? Lovely, this is great news.”

           “I know,” she said, turning in his arms. She rested her hands on his chest. “Yet I still can’t help but worry.”

           “About what?”

           She let out a little laugh. “Everything. What if they decide that I work too much? Or that we haven’t been married long enough? That your job is too dangerous…”

           “I’m a glorified gardener,” he deadpanned.

           “Those are Marian’s words,” she reminded him. “You are so much more than that. You’re also up trees, working with dangerous equipment, sharp tools…”

           He laid his hand against her cheek, forcing her to look him in the eyes. They shone with love and reassurance. “We are very safe, Regina, you know that. And I mostly work out of the office now anyway.”

           “But still…” she started protest.

           “Shh,” he said, pressing his finger to her lips. “I know you’re scared that someone is going to yank the rug out from under us but that’s not going to happen. You just need to stay positive, okay?”

           She nodded, knowing he was right. “I know, I know. It’s just…we’re so close, Robin. I can almost feel our child in my arms.”

           “And soon he or she will be there.” He held her close, rocking her. “Now, can we make dinner? I’m starving and we still have decorations to hang.” 

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