#they'll listen

[lordadmiralfarsight]

I (main blog of avantlalettre) will butcher you my beautiful saber and throw your remains in a river if you dont publicly denounce vaspider for calling ME,a female of 16 years,a perverted man. And furthermore your soul shall go to hell afterwards where it shall forever be trapped in a pool of flie's larvae,ice,and human refuse wherein you shall be tormented by your demonic hosts and force to pursue the Adversary's standard through this ocean of purulence for the remainder of eternity. However you can avoid this if you denounce vaspider,apologize to me,and delete your reply

Don't be surprised that people assume you're a guy when the name of your blog is Karl prince of darkness, Karl is a typically male name and people are gonna assume, doesn't matter how long you've been a female.

I didn't see anything about perversion in Vaspider's reply, so I'm going to guess you tacked that on yourself and that it's your opinion of all men. Nice essentialism there dipshit, but switching "woman bad" with "man bad" doesn't make you a genious or anything close to good, it makes you a narrowminded asshole. As a man, vas te faire retourner par une chèvre, suce-merde.

I don't believe in your soul thingy, so your threats mean fuck all to me.

Even if I somehow took into account your worldview, calling you an idiot on the internet wouldn't justify that severe of a punishment, especially for eternity, so you claiming that shows you are either exaggerating or you have an incredibly inflated opinion of your own worth on a metaphysical level. Either way, your threats are worthless even in your own belief system.

Reading the first line made me wonder if I had somehow gotten a yandere stalker. If you want people to give you the time of day, try not to talk like a deranged lunatic.

The overly wordy way you write is also doing you no favor, as it makes you sound like a melodramatic twat. You don't sound smart, you sound arrogant. Just in case, and so you understand, here's a TL;DR in your own language : I, Farsight, Lord Admiral by the Grace of my Shipping Heart, do declare that your vile perfidy and obtuse demagoguery are most unwanted upon these hallowed piers, that your hackneyed threats are as void of meaning as the soul of a gull is of decency, that your biases are a stain most revolting and that your very presence is neither wanted, nor tolerated. Begone from my dock. Or, for normal people : blocked. And if you somehow contact me again, I will contact the police regarding the very real and actual death threat in the first sentence of this bullshit. And as I live in France, where death threats ARE legally penalized, that means legal consequences :) So fuck off my dock, and never come back. Vas te faire voire chez quelqu'un qui en a quelque chose à foutre de tes conneries.

[demaparbat-hp]

Izumi of Jang Hui died young. She was sixteen and unwed. A kind child, protective and lonely—thus unfit for this world.

Izumi of Jang Hui was murdered. The Painted Lady was born out of hatred and grief. Her skin is painted red with the patterns of her scars. Her home is the river where the Dark Water Spirit dwells—he who found her, drowned and beautiful.

Build shrines by the river and pray for her good will. Harm her land or people and pray for mercy.

[2isted-chocol8-art]

"When I’m done exploring, I want to make some more quantum art. Maybe some kind of creature sculpture that just, like, shows up and scares the daylights out of you.”

I always found that Gabbro dialogue hilarious so I made a comic about it 💃💃💃

-> More Outer Wilds Art!

[solarmorrigan]

It's Coming From Inside the House

For the @steddie-spooktober day 5 prompt: "Did you hear that?" Rated: T | Words: 2472 | CW: panic attack, mentions of recreational drug use | Tags: Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington friendship, pre-relationship, sorta, Eddie Munson being an asshole, Eddie Munson is a sweetheart, he has the range, Steve Harrington has PTSD, post season 2, pre season 3 Divider credit: @steddiecameraroll-graphics

Now look, Eddie has never claimed to be the world’s nicest guy. He’s often claimed the opposite, in fact, in the name of getting shithead bullies and jocks to leave him and his alone.

And Harrington is no saint, either. Sure, he’s turned over some kind of new leaf since last year, ditching the assholes he used to hang out with and mostly keeping to himself (particularly since November, when his busted face had been the talk of Hawkins High), but he’s been part of enough sportsball-related hazing rituals for Eddie to assume he can at least take a joke.

Anyway, the point is, when he’s given occasion to realize that King Steve seems to be afraid of the dark, Eddie isn’t quite able to resist the urge to poke at him. Just a little.

He’s got Harrington in his trailer, just dropping by for a late-night transaction, and they’ve got an unexpected spring storm raging outside. It had just blown in, heavy winds and rain and all, surrounding the trailer with the sound of nature’s howling fury, and Harrington already seems on edge (probably why he needs the weed, really).

And then the lights flicker–

Flicker–

Flicker–

And cut out.

Both Eddie and Harrington freeze, plunged into darkness cut only by the frequent flashes of lightning.

“What just happened?” Harrington asks, his voice gone tight.

“Seems like the power went out,” Eddie snarks, because that much should be obvious. “Probably the wind. The grid isn’t as secure out here where it’s only us poor people.”

Harrington has no comeback, which is a little disappointing. He’s so quiet that the only way Eddie can tell he’s still there at all is because he can see him illuminated by brief lightning strikes.

Eddie sighs and starts shuffling in the direction of the kitchen. “Gimme a minute, I think we’ve got an old camping lantern somewhere.”

He bangs his knees on just about every object he walks past, swearing up a storm, but he finally makes it to the kitchen and feels around in the cabinets for the lantern he hopes is still there. He knocks over a few pots and pans in the process, but finally – success!

Eddie gropes for the switch on top of the lantern as he pulls it from the cabinet, praying that the battery inside is still good, and flinches and blinks the sparkles from his eyes when the thing lights up about six inches from his face.

Illumination acquired, Eddie uses it to find the junk drawer and pull out the flashlight they keep inside (might’ve been easier to find that first, instead of knocking into all the cookware, now that Eddie thinks on it), and then heads back to where he’s left Harrington standing in the living room.

“Let there be light,” he says, holding up the old lantern in victory.

Harrington, again, says nothing. He looks pale in the light of the lantern, nearly frozen where he stands, staring out the window. He almost reminds Eddie of a frightened rabbit, eyes wide and body locked up in a fight, flight, or freeze response heavily weighted in favor of the third option. And if he’s the rabbit, Eddie is like nothing so much as the wolf, ready to sink his teeth in.

Just a little. Just as a joke, that’s all.

As he places the camping lantern on the table, he pauses and cocks his head, pretending to listen.

“Hey,” he says quietly, and Harrington finally turns to look at him. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Harrington rasps, eyes darting back towards the window.

“I don’t know, it was… like sort of a scratching sound? It’s– There!” Eddie jumps, playing at being startled. “There it was again, did you hear it?”

Harrington swallows heavily, shaking his head. “I don’t hear anything, are you sure–”

“I think it’s coming from the door,” Eddie hisses, voice gone low, nearly covered by the steady roll of thunder.

Harrington whirls back around, looking at the shadowed shape of the door where it sits just outside the halo of light the little lantern is throwing out.

“What if something’s trying to get in?” Eddie’s practically whispering now, low and dramatic. “Should we– should we check?”

Slowly, Harrington nods. “I’ll check,” he says, and he sounds so resolute about it, so resigned, like he’s agreeing to go off to war, that Eddie has to bite down on a laugh. So fucking serious, this guy.

“I’m right behind you,” Eddie says, though Harrington barely seems to register when Eddie sidles up at his back.

They cross from where they’d been standing by the coffee table and over to the door, standing in front of it as another crack of thunder booms overhead. Harrington reaches for the handle.

“Go ahead,” Eddie breathes, raising his arms. “I’m… right… BEHIND YOU!”

As he shouts, he grabs Harrington around the middle, digging his fingers into his sides almost like he’s trying to tickle him, and holy shit, Harrington’s reaction does not disappoint. He jumps and jerks like he’s just been electrocuted, letting out a strangled yell as he pulls away from Eddie, whirling around to face him, and Eddie can’t help it– he laughs.

Like, not a cruel laugh, just the laugh of a prank successfully pulled off.

“I can’t believe you actually fell for that!” he wheezes out around his giggles.

And Eddie isn’t fully ignorant to the idea that there are consequences for his actions; he’s pretty sure at this point Harrington is going to start yelling, maybe start swinging, almost definitely cussing Eddie out – except he doesn’t.

He doesn’t actually do anything. He’s just standing there, eyes blown wide, one hand clenched over his chest while he almost heaves for breath.

“…Harrington?” Eddie tries, as his laughter dies away. “Hey. You good?”

Harrington doesn’t reply. Eddie’s not even sure he’s seeing him right now; his gaze looks glassed over in the low light, staring at something in the middle distance that Eddie can’t see. It’s kind of freaking Eddie out.

“Harrington. Hey. Can you hear me?” Eddie reaches up to wave a hand in front of Harrington’s face, and the reaction is immediate.

He jumps again, swearing and stumbling backwards until he hits the wall by the door with a hard thump, where he slides down into a sitting position on the floor, knees pulled up in front of him and arms wrapped around his middle. He’s still breathing hard, and his eyes are darting around the trailer, still looking for something, but fucked if Eddie knows what.

And fuck. Shit, Eddie feels like an asshole, he’s just given Harrington some kind of full-blown panic attack. Shit.

“Harrington,” he says, trying to sound firm and reassuring even though he has no goddamn idea what he’s doing as he crouches down in front of the guy. “Listen, there’s nothing to be scared of, man, it was just me being a dick.”

Harrington’s eyes flick in Eddie’s direction, but Eddie’s not all that convinced he’s registering what Eddie’s saying.

“Okay, I’m gonna – just a second.” Eddie holds a finger up and stands again, darting over to the coffee table to grab the lantern and, almost as an afterthought, the flashlight. “Okay, here we go,” he says, kneeling in front of Harrington and placing the lantern between them. “Do you wanna hold the flashlight? Would that help?”

He’s barely held the flashlight up for Harrington to take when the other boy’s fingers are wrapping around it, nearly jerking it out of Eddie’s hand. He flicks it on and sweeps the beam around the room, nearly blinding Eddie at least twice in the process.

“See?” Eddie says once Harrington’s performed as much of an inspection of the place as he can from his position on the floor. “Nothing here. Just you, me, and the storm.”

This doesn’t seem to be as reassuring as Eddie would have hoped; Harrington is still on the hysterical edge of hyperventilating, flashlight clutched in one fist and the other hand clenching his jacket where it’s still wrapped around his middle.

“Harrington. Steve,” Eddie tries, and he finally gets a long enough look from Harrington that he thinks he must actually be hearing him. “You’ve gotta breathe, man. Deeper breaths, c’mon. I don’t want you passing out on me.”

And it looks like maybe he’s trying, but the air keeps stuttering back out of his lungs before he can hold it for long. He shakes his head, and Eddie bites his lip, thinking.

“Here. I’m just gonna– don’t freak out again, okay?” Slowly, Eddie reaches for Harrington’s free hand, and with an air of confusion, Harrington lets him take it, unwrapping his fingers from where they’re clutched in his jacket and letting Eddie pull until his palm is pressed flat against Eddie’s chest. “Copy me, okay? In… and out.”

Exaggerating his breaths, Eddie takes big gulps of air, in and out, and waits for Harrington to follow suit – and after a few long moments, he manages it.

Slowly, his breathing deepens out, no longer coming in quick, shallow gasps, and his posture seems to deflate as it does. He sags back against the wall, the flashlight still clutched tight in his fist, and lets his head fall back.

“Better?” Eddie asks.

Harrington shrugs. He flinches at the next flash of lighting, and Eddie squeezes his hand, which he is, for some reason, still holding.

“Just the storm,” Eddie says, and Harrington shoots him a vaguely bitchy look that feels a lot more on par with how he should be acting.

He doesn’t take his hand back, though, so Eddie just keeps holding it.

He holds it and he talks, trying to drown out the rumbles of thunder that are growing more and more distant, trying to distract from the flashes of lightning that seem to be distressing Harrington more than anything else, trying to make up for the fact that he’d caused this whole mess in the first place. And Harrington seems to listen, watching him with eyes half-lidded in exhaustion, even cracking a tiny smile a few times, when Eddie gets particularly animated.

Then, after about an hour of nothing but the warm glow of the camping lantern, nothing but the sound of Eddie’s voice and the dying storm, the power kicks back on. The lights come to life and the fridge starts humming from the kitchen, and Harrington squeezes Eddie’s hand hard, eyes falling shut for a moment in apparent divine gratitude.

“Oh, thank god,” he mutters, and Eddie can’t help but agree.

Slowly, he lets go of Harrington’s hand, and Harrington takes it back, awkwardly handing over the flashlight as if in trade. He stands from the floor, a little shaky, and Eddie follows suit, ready to catch him if his overtaxed body doesn’t prove to be up to the task, but Harrington manages to stand on his own two feet, so Eddie takes a step back.

“Uh… thanks. For all of that,” Harrington says quietly, voice a little wrecked.

Eddie shakes his head. “I’m the one who gave you a fucking panic attack in the first place. Sitting with you was literally the least I could do.”

Harrington shrugs. “You didn’t have to, though.”

“Common decency—and my conscience—beg to differ,” Eddie says, and Harrington lets out a little huff that might have been a laugh.

“Anyway, I should get out of your hair,” Harrington says. “Do you still have the, uh–”

“Oh, shit, yeah.” Eddie had nearly forgotten why Harrington had come over there in the first place. He crosses back over to the coffee table, where he’d dropped the bag when the power had gone out, and snatches it up, offering it to Harrington. “Here you are, my liege.”

The title, caught somewhere between mocking and actual friendliness, makes Harrington huff out another laugh, and he reaches for his wallet.

“How much do I owe you?”

Eddie almost can’t believe he’s about to say it, but– “Don’t worry about it. This one’s on the house.”

He’ll eat the cost if it’ll assuage his guilt – if it’ll get the image of Harrington crumpled on the floor, gasping for air as he searches the room for some kind of threat, out of Eddie’s head.

Harrington frowns. “You don’t have to do that.”

Eddie shrugs. “Call it even for having given you all the more reason to need to smoke it.”

Harrington is still frowning, hand still poised to pull his wallet from his back pocket, so Eddie shoves the baggie into his free hand, closing his fingers around it and letting go.

“Looks like it’s in your hands now, no takebacks!” Eddie insists. “Or, you know, no givebacks, I guess.”

Harrington rolls his eyes, but he drops his hand and tucks the baggie into the pocket of his jacket. “Well, thanks, then. I think.”

Eddie nods, searching over Harrington’s face; he’s still pale as shit, and it makes the dark circles under his eyes, previously barely noticeable, stand out in stark relief. He looks like he’s almost swaying where he stands, and Eddie frowns.

“You gonna be good to drive?” he asks, not really sure what he plans to do if Harrington isn’t.

“I think I’ll be fine, man,” Harrington snarks, and it’s close enough to what Eddie’s used to hearing from him that he’s willing to let the matter drop.

Harrington turns for the door, but pauses just before he reaches for the handle. Eddie wonders if maybe he’s still thinking of Eddie’s stupid prank, unable to shake the idea that something really might be waiting at the door to get him, when Harrington turns back to look at him.

“Don’t mention this to anyone, okay?” he says, possibly going for demanding, maybe even threatening, but landing somewhere closer to a plea. “I don’t need– I just don’t need anyone knowing…”

“Mum’s the word, man,” Eddie assures him quickly, miming zipping up his lips, locking them, and tossing the key over his shoulder.

With a tiny smile crossing his face, Harrington nods. “Thanks. I’ll, uh – see you around, I guess.”

“Yeah. See you around.” Eddie nods.

And with that, Harrington is gone, out the door and crunching across the wet gravel to his car, taking the strangeness of the night with him.

Eddie stands in the middle of his living room for a long moment, feeling as though something about his view of Steve Harrington—possibly even his view of something larger—has shifted, though he can’t quite put his finger on how.

He puzzles it over for a bit before shrugging it off, stooping to grab the lantern and put it back where it belongs. It doesn’t really matter, he figures. It’s not like he and Harrington will have much reason to interact after this.

[bizarrelittlemew]

i hope someone mentions to Ed how Stede was moaning his name in his sleep every night. he deserves to know

[saturnniidae]

I like to think Hiccup has whole 'conversations' with Toothless that are essentially incomprehensible to anyone but them (they consist of little human language–mostly draconic noises and body language as well as signals/cues specific to Hiccup and Toothless) the other riders are used to it at this point, but a lot of people are very much not and find it incredibly confusing.

Its started a lot of rumors of Hiccup being some 'dragon whisperer' that can actually speak to and command them and the other riders tease him about it relentlessly because he despises the rumors and always tries to correct them. Like every time they're brought up he'll say something along the lines of "No. If u actually pay attention to and connect with them, adapting to their way of communication isn't hard. I don't actually speak with them ur just not observant enough" and is constantly ignored

(This is kind of a follow-up to another post but I didn't want to tack it onto a rb)

[cecoeur]

it's hell on earth to be heavenly them's the breaks, they don't come gently

[vaguely-concerned]

how much have the crows actually been sanitized outside of the very narrow view you get of them both in place and in time in veilguard, and how much is caterina deliberately putting her most presentable and pr friendly foot forward because she needs HELP with both the grandson and the antaam situations and is already playing from a weakened overwhelmed position. is she going to show off all the dirty laundry the crows undeniably have in front of the people she's courting for an alliance? is rook going to be looking a gift crow in the beak too closely when help is offered, go digging through that laundry basket on their own initiative on principle, knowing what you might find further down in it isn't pretty and might still be sharp, while the world is burning? is it entirely coincidental that the people caterina picks to interact with you most is teia -- the youngest, most charismatic and notably most weirdly idealistic of the talons -- and viago -- who is perhaps none of these things naturally but is dependable and logical and sharp and also down so cataclysmically bad for teia that when she runs in shouting 'TEIA YES!!! >:D' he sighs with longsuffering resignation and goes '...viago also yes. I suppose. under duress, let the record note' and follows.

surely parts of how each house functions would be left largely up to the individual talons, right? as long as they produce crows capable of doing the job and keeping up with the competition, I doubt the first talon micromanages how they get there (...for good or ill. lots of dead fledglings buried under that laissez faire policy, probably). they're very far away from a monolithic structure, they're constantly competing merchant houses/families striving to gain the upper hand held in check by little except 'if enough of the other houses shake hands and gang up on us for pushing our luck we're fucked, so don't push it too far'. like I believe lucanis says at one point, even calling them an organization is stretching the definition to a breaking point in some ways lol this is fully herding cats territory. all this to say that in this game we spend most of our time in teia's house. andarateia cantori, of the firm genuine conviction recognized as mildly unhinged by all the other talons that the crows truly are her family, who loves them with her whole unstoppable foolhardy thinks-she-will-die-young-and-live-eternally-in-song-and-story heart for it. teia, who won't leave the cantori diamond even to go home to sleep because she doesn't want the fledglings to have to see the place empty. do I think the way teia cantori would run her house is indicative of the average experience of being trained as and living as a crow? no. obviously. why are people seeming to assume that so immediately? sometimes I do wonder if I'm going insane.

between that and the antaam situation -- which turns the romanticized image antiva already is eager to reach for with the crows (the same way european literary tradition through the ages sure LOVES a knight, no matter what knights were actually like when you had one kicking around in real life) into an effective and recognizable symbol of resistance from an outside force (at least these awful little guys are home grown in a way we're kind of proud of despite it all and also they are deeply inescapably cool)... perhaps indeed a symbol of resistance and freedom that momentarily covers for a multitude of sins. I don't think we need to draw definitive conclusions about what the crows are like universially, historically or in different contexts from what we see in veilguard. sort of like the british in the pop cultural understanding being 'the good guys' when we think about WW2, and the sheer ludicrousness of that characterization of the british empire seen in any other context or angle lmao. I DO think there are some genuine writerly '*handwaves established ugliness aside aggressively* just uuuuuh don't worry about it! not important right now! you can feel at least ok hanging out with the cool theater kids but with murder they're like. comparatively chill in this context it's fine and they're fun' going on too. and you know what. they are fun. invenci is unfortunately objectively right, but the crows are sooo much more fun. and in fiction land that trumps all. absolutely baffling writing choice when you read through to the political/ideological conclusion that's reached from it of course (sort of accidentally? I think???), but would it really be a bioware game without a few of those. it's how you know you're home (derogatory and affectionate)

in short there are writing problems by god are there real problems here. obviously. and it'd take smarter and more knowledgeable people than me to properly untangle all of that. glorifying organized crime is a time honoured tradition in fiction that perhaps... shouldn't be quite so much and is uh risky, you're always playing with fire there. but I frankly don't think the 'de-edgeifying' for lack of a better term is that much of an inescapable one or that it erases what we knew of the crows before, we're just getting the angle on them in one very specific time and place in history and with specific individuals involved setting the tone. eight little talons killing off most of the established leadership beforehand so it's mostly only teia and viago who get to keep their full power base (even caterina and the dellamortes takes some losses in the apparent death of lucanis before the start of the game) probably figures into that somewhere too lol

[menlove]

we need to embrace television being mid again and I mean this truly and genuinely. it's okay to dislike or be disappointed by a season of a show u like but sometimes it's not as deep as all that. it's like on tumblr a season of a show can either be award winning show stoppingly incredible or it's garbage and the entire thing needs to go but sometimes. Sometimes. it is just television.

[kosmogrl]

saying you'll never listen to someone's music because their stage name is embarrassing to say out loud is sooo corny, you sound miserable and you hate fun!

[furiosophie]

[stubz]

"Maverick is here."

"Hi Maverick! Want some coffee?" the human groaned.

"Only if it's Irish..."

"Heh, if only."

The two humans tried but couldn't help the shift of tone when talking about the youngling. Couldn't help the sighs or forced enthusiasm when it came to Maverick.

Maverick, age 6, species Ewelsjay, and the unknowing arch nemesis of Kim and Max.

.

"Maverick get down from there!" the man shouted up to the child dangling from the fire sprinklers.

"But it's fun!" giggled the child.

"They're not for climbing! Get down now!"

"No I'm no-!" the sprinkler snapped.

"I told him," he growled running towards the crying youngling. "a million times I told him don't climb the sprinklers! They're not for climbing! But did he listen? Nooooo."

..

"Maverick! What happened!?"

"Mr. Aurum, Maverick climbed the fire sprinklers and fell when they broke. Luckily it wasn't that high and he landed on the mats, he only has a bruise and scrapped knee."

"And you let him??"

"..No. I did not. We have told Maverick multiple times not to climb them because of this very reason."

"Oh Mavy. You need to listen your teachers. I'll have a talk with him."

"See you tomorrow then."

...

"And he looked at me as if I let his kid climb the sprinklers!!" he took a swig of his Irish coffee.

"Tell me about it...the guy acts as if it's always our fault. One time he told me it was my job that his kid puts his bag in his locker. His 6 year old kid...he's 6 years old! I tell him and sometimes he does it but most of the time he looks me in the eyes and says you do it."

"Exactly! We're not servants!"

"Gah please let them move or switch schools!"

....

"All right kids, foods ready so line up."

"But before you grab a plate let us tell you what's just for the humans today. The kitchen made an accident today and put in too much of a spice that can be dangerous for other species, it's the blue pot. Okay? Only humans can eat that."

"Human kids, only have a little to start with because its spicy. If you like it then you can have more later."

The kids nodded and started to serve themselves, only the humans taking food from the blue pot.

When they ate the adults chuckled and smiled watching their fellow humans eat the spicy curry. Some kids loved it for the spice or flavor while others chugged their milk. They're non-human friends laughed or gasped.

"Human Kim, can I try some?"

"Sorry Maverick but not today. It's not safe for some of you kids. We'll have this again on Friday though and we'll make sure it's safe for the rest of you kids."

"Aw. Okay." the human cracked a small smile and ruffled his golden hair.

"How about you try some of this? It from the same place on earth."

"It's green!"

.....

"Excuse me, Max and Kim? Maverick told me something very concerning yesterday."

"Oh, what was it?"

He told me that yesterday there was a dish just for the humans. That no one but humans were allowed to eat it." the Ewelsjay glared at them.

'Here we go' they both thought.

"Mr. Aurum the kitchen made a mistake when making one of the dishes yesterday and put in too much of a spice that is dangerous to most species. So to not waste the food and keep the others safe we only allowed the human children to eat it.

This was a simple mistake and Kim has talked to the kitchen already and made arrangements to make the dish again on Friday."

"Really? 'Too much spice' is what stopped my child from eating? Unbelievable."

"...listen-"

"Sir, this type of spice is one that can be rather harmful to younglings, even adults, and since we couldn't quite call everyone's parents asking for permission we decided to play it safe." the human placed a hand on her co-workers back. Trying her best to calm her friend. Even though she too wanted to rip Aurum a new one.

"I'll be the judge of that. Tell me, what's the name of the dish and how exactly the kitchen made it."

"Mr. Aurum I don't think-"

"Goat curry and it has many different variations but this recipe had 1 seeded scotch bonnet pepper."

And with that the Ewelsjay left with his son.

"Are you sure that was a good idea?"

"No but I don't care. Besides as much as an a-hole he is there's no way he'll let Maverick eat it before he tries it first."

"Ooo the perfect crime."

*the next day*

"Teachers teachers teachers!"

"Yes Maverick?"

"My Dad tried the goat carry and his face turned bright orange! He took one bite and then screamed for water but it didn't help."

"Yeah water doesn't do much. Rookie mistake."

"Yeah but then I remembered what teacher Kim said about milk and gave him that and it helped!"

"So how's your Dad now?"

"He's stuck in the bathroom still drinking milk." he said so matter of factly making the humans snort.

"A-and now do you see why we didn't want you eating it?" asked Max trying his best not to laugh.

"Yeah...I guess I should be listening to you two. You are my teachers."

"Glad to hear that. Now go to put your stuff away and play."

"Okay!" once he was out of earshot the two finally allowed themselves to laugh till they cried.

Maverick was a handful most times but moments like these reminded the two that he was a kid. And kids learn from those around them. Hopeful Mr. Aurum would learn what his son did today, listen to the teachers.

[awsugar]

i can't sleep my brain and body have been all fucked up this week and i'm laying here at 430 being so PLAGUED by the fact that my life's 3 main hyper fixations have been mcr spn and dnp and not only that but the fact that fiction as a whole will never have anything like destiel again, the internet will never reproduce something like phan. celebrities will NEVER be able to do frerard again. i'm not insane. these are the big 3 and not just because these are my favorite things. there are endless amounts of ships and pairings and fics and lore but literally. the specific experience of living through all of these in one lifetime. no one else will ever have that...except us

[sapphic-agent]

Meanwhile:

We big chillin

[neptunesfallen]

The Light That Shines When Things End by Iain S. Thomas

2023-2024 Florida Panthers, you'll always be dear to me

[nostalgiaclown]

What if Emmrich-

No right, what if he unclasps this-

and goes into full on magical girl transformation into undead skeleton mode-