#now about weaver birds...big brains them

[kaseylgifford]

Serpent in Repose

[the-cult-of-russo]

Push and Pull (Part 18)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OC

Warnings: cursing, angst

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Daphne sat in a plush chair in front of a large solid wood desk. She was silent as she watched across to Mrs Grimes who was pouring over all of the evidence with silent rage. She'd gone through the file and was now on her fancy ass computer looking at the billion pictures she'd found. One of the large tinted windows in the room was cracked open, birds chirping from outside as a nice breeze came in. The weather was quite warm that day, the sun shining brightly as spring was well under way. Daphne had on a strappy black maxi dress with thigh high slits, her boots on and her deep purple hair was in two French braids. The most effort she'd put into her hair in a while. The nice weather had encouraged her to make an effort. 

She picked at her black chipped nails as she patiently waited for the older woman to look through all of the evidence. The silence was deafening and Daphne kept finding her thoughts drifting off. It had been two days since she'd last seen any of her new friends and Karen's words kept itching at her brain before she opted to ignore them. She’d had a few texts from Foggy checking in with her and thankfully she hadn't seen or heard from Matt at all. It was peaceful.

"That rat bastard! He's making a mockery of me, he's not even hiding it!" Mrs Grimes finally snapped. Daphne had sensed it was coming. She chose not to respond, not knowing what to say. Usually she would say a few mildly comforting words to her clients but Mrs Grimes wasn't heartbroken, she was just pissed at the blatant disrespect. Daphne couldn't blame her. Mrs Grimes stood abruptly, stalking over to the cabinet and pouring some drinks. She didn't ask Daphne, but as the glass full of alcohol that was no doubt the same price as a month of rent was placed in front of her, she didn't argue as she took a large pull from it. It was smoother than what she was used to but she wasn’t surprised since this wasn't the bottom shelf shit she was used to.

Mrs Grimes sat back down gracefully despite her building anger. She took a sip of her drink and looked like she was thinking things over. Daphne just waited patiently as she enjoyed her moment with the fancy scotch.

"I want revenge," the older woman said after a moment. Her voice was calm like it was the most casual thing in the world.

"Oh?" Daphne quirked her brows, curious where this was going. 

"He's making a fool of me and blatantly so. I want a divorce but there’s also another way to hurt him," Mrs Grimes mused softly. Daphne settled deeper into the chair, her curiosity burning.

"My husband has always kept the business from me, said I didn't need to be involved. But over the many years with him I've learned some things and he has no idea," she paused to take another sip of her drink. 

"My husband is a man in power. His job allows him access to a lot of private client information that in the wrong hands would be… catastrophic. But he's also a greedy leech, and I found out a few years ago that the Italian mob had been paying him. He's been selling clients information to them. Some of them would go bankrupt and others...well they just vanished, never to be seen of again. I think we're smart enough women to figure out where they went," she muttered tensely. The bottom of the Hudson no doubt. 

"Why are you telling me this?" Daphne asked bluntly. Mrs Grimes chuckled at her, seemingly enjoying the no nonsense approach Daphne often had.

"He's a criminal, assisting worse criminals to boot. I could take him down, get him locked away. His name would be tarnished and he'd have nothing left. After I divorced him obviously," she said carefully.

"Do you have proof?" Daphne enquired. Honestly, this was pretty big. The kind of thing Brett would like to hear. Mr Grimes would know all kinds of information they could use to try and get the Italians.

Mrs Grimes heaved a sigh and crossed a leg over the other.

"Not here. We have another house, he's stayed there more and more over the years and now I rarely see him. That's where he'd keep it all, in his study," she explained. Daphne pursed her lips. Another house? These fucking people.

"Can't you go and get it?" She asked pointedly. They couldn't do anything without that information and sending the cops to go and search would be useless. They'd need a warrant and she knew that would be difficult when it came to a powerful and wealthy man like Mr Grimes, who could easily pay people to sweep it all away. 

"Can I be frank with you, Ms Weaver?" She asked seriously. Daphne nodded, as if they'd been anything but during this unexpected conversation. 

"He's already taken the other house over. He has security and if I turned up they'd send me away. They have no respect. That's how I know where all his shady business goes down because I'm forbidden to go in there. I think he knows I know something. And I worry if I tried to force my way in, it wouldn't end well for me. All he'd need to do is say the word to the criminals he associates with and I'll be gone," she muttered bitterly. It did sound promising though that there was something in the other house worth hiding from his wife.

"How do we get it then? You're forbidden and it's heavily guarded, there'll be no chance," Daphne sighed. 

"That's where you come in," the older woman grinned. Daphne resisted the urge to roll her eyes and groan. Of course it was.

"My husband is throwing a ball next week, I'm not invited of course, but it's given us a way to get you in. It's mostly upper-class, no doubt some of the Italians, god knows who else. I can pull some strings, get you on the guest list. You can just say you're from a well-off family, no one will really care. But once you're in, you can try to get to his study and get what we need," she explained. Daphne was mildly impressed. It was a sneaky plan. But she also didn't like her part in it.

She stayed silent for a moment as she ran through the options. It was the only plan really, they didn't have another. She gave no shits about Mrs Grimes petty revenge on her husband but she did care about the Italians and this was another way in. That was the only reason why she was considering something like this when it could very seriously go ass upwards. Mrs Grimes watched her carefully as she mulled it over in her head.

"I know it's dangerous, which is precisely why I'm not turning up there. I will pay you handsomely for doing this and I know you can see it through," she pressed on. She scribbled something down on a piece of paper before sliding it to her. Daphne's eyes bugged out of her head for a moment as she saw how much the woman was going to pay her. Maybe it wasn't much since this was her life on the line if things went wrong but $8000 was a huge amount of money. She didn't really need it. She wasn't one for material things and she was fine how she was. She had a steady income that paid her well. She thought back to something Karen had said in passing the night she came over and it was similar to something Foggy had complained about numerous times to her. 

Daphne blew out a sigh, downing the rest of her drink.

"I have a counter offer," she proposed, a stern look on her face. Mrs Grimes nodded to hear it.

"I'm risking my ass by going in there. I have history with the Italians and one slip up, I'm bleeding among sharks. If I do this for you, then when you get the divorce, you hire Nelson and Murdock for it. You pay them the same amount you were going to pay me. And if you like their services, which I'm sure you will, you'll recommend them to your friends. But just so you know, they won't represent genuinely bad people, so be careful who you send there," she gave the older woman an expectant look unsure of what she should say. 

"I know you would have gone to some fancy ass lawyer to get it done but these guys are good and they care about their job. So much so that most of the time they take on cases for barely any money or none at all. They need that money and you need the evidence. That's my only offer," she added with a stern face. She could have taken it for herself, but why? She didn't care about it. But Foggy, Karen and even reluctantly Matt did care. She hated how despondent Foggy would get when he worried about the firm. How they were in the negatives. How he wasn't sure how much longer they'd be able to stay open. They couldn't even afford to pay Karen which is what led her to the Bulletin in the first place. And while she didn't like Matt and she'd never seen him or Foggy in action, she'd heard nothing but great things and praise about them at the station. Not everyone had money for a decent attorney, but that didn't matter to them. Everyone deserved that help. She had a chance to help with that and she was running with it. 

"Deal," Mrs Grimes settled with a nod. Daphne was a little shocked by how easy it was but then again she guessed she really wanted to nail her husband to the wall. She leaned over shaking hands with her before she grabbed her backpack and got ready to leave.

"Here. This is what I owe you from the investigation you already did. And I’ll pay for you to get a dress for the ball so you don’t stand out too much," she handed her $1000 in cash and Daphne stuffed it into her bag, watching as the woman scribbled something down on a small piece of paper. 

"I'd recommend these stores. Tell them I sent you in and it’ll be taken care of. It's a very grand affair, tell them it's a ball and they'll pick some things for you to try. I'll also put you down with a plus one on the guestlist. It might be a little less… conspicuous if you took someone with you," she murmured, gesturing to Daphne's purple hair. She squinted in slight offense but took the piece of paper anyway and put it in her hoodie pocket. 

Once again the driver had been instructed to take her home. She opted for him to drop her off down the street. Now she knew the Italians were involved in this somehow, she didn't want to chance people knowing where she lived. She didn't know if Mr Grimes was having his wife monitored or not. When she did finally arrive home, she was hot and tired. The sun was glaring through her large window by the fire escape and she opened it letting in some air since she didn't have AC. She kicked off her boots and lay on her back on the couch. She tried to run through how the night at the ball would go but there were far too many variables. She just had to hope for the best. It should be busy and filled with self important people who wouldn't think about looking into who she was too closely. Once they were all distracted, she could slip away and leave, hopefully without incident. 

She thought back to Mrs Grimes' advice on bringing someone and she grumbled. It would make her look less noticeable and if she was alone there was every chance guys may approach her to talk. She wanted to slip under the radar as much as possible. Having a date would fix that but she had no one. She wouldn't ask Foggy. Not only because he was in a relationship and it was weird even as friends, but because of how dangerous it was. She refused to ask Brett. She decided not to tell him about the intel she had until she got the proof. He wouldn't approve of her doing this and if the cops got involved prematurely then the evidence would get destroyed. Mrs Grimes would also most likely disappear and she refused to have the death of another client weigh on her conscience. 

The only person that kept coming to mind was Matt and she hated it. He would be perfect. The unassuming blind man, no one would suspect them. He also had his super senses that would prove to be incredibly useful and if things got hairy she knew he'd have her back. It would risk him exposing himself if it really came to it and he had to fight but that was the worst case scenario. She really just didn't want to speak to him though. The last time they spoke had really pissed her off and she'd been enjoying the peace of him not being around lately. Did she really want to disrupt that? As useful as he would be by her side, she didn't want to do that to herself. They'd have to blend in as a couple, dancing and being nice to each other. She didn't need the headache. 

She came to the conclusion she was better off going on her own and saving herself future annoyance when it came to the vigilante. She lay on her sofa for a little while just too tired to move. She wasn't sleeping much at all and she'd found herself going to Fogwell's gym everyday the last two days to take her frustration out on the punching bag. She always made sure to go at a time when Matt didn't tend to go so she didn't run into him. She wondered how long it would be before she burnt herself out completely.

A rhythmic knock sounded at her door that let her know it was Foggy. He usually did a weird little knock when he came to see her.

"Come in," she called from where she lay. The door opened and she glanced at the door as Foggy walked in.

"What is this? You're just too lazy to open the door and greet me now? That hurts," he pouted. She laughed but made no move to get up as he waltzed over and flopped into the armchair. 

"To what do I owe this pleasure, Mr Nelson?" She yawned softly into her hand.

"A weird thing just happened. We got a phone call from a Mrs Grimes, a real wealthy woman. She asks us to help her with her divorce. Her husband's a cheat and into some illegal things apparently. She says someone recommended us to her. She paid us $4000 dollars up front with another when it's all over with. $4000! Can you believe that?!" Foggy asked incredulously. 

"That's a lot of money," she murmured in agreement.

"Yeah… funny thing though, Karen seemed to recognise her name. Mrs Grimes is the name of your client and her cheaty illegal husband is the guy you've been spying on…" he trailed off, waiting for her answer.

"Small world, huh?" She smiled at him.

"Seriously? You think I don't know you had something to do with this giant heap of good luck?" He scoffed. She groaned as she sat up, rubbing her eyes a little before settling into a sitting position.

"Fine, you got me. She wants some extras for her case and offered me a lot of money. Money I don't need but I know you guys do. So I made a deal with her that you'd be her lawyers and she'd pay what she would have given me," she explained. Foggy still looked stunned and he shook his head.

"What does she need you to do that costs that much?" He asked bewildered. She sighed, wiping a hand down her face wearily.

"Oh god, is it that bad?" He asked hesitantly.

"Kinda. But since I just practically gave $8000 to keep your firm in practice, I expect no lectures from you when you hear it," she asserted with a raised brow. He nodded reluctantly, not able to argue with her. 

"The illegal stuff she said about her husband? He's in bed with the Italians. He sells them client information. She said that some of them ended up bankrupt and some just went 'missing'," she did air quotes and Foggy's jaw gaped a little.

"Holy shit," he breathed.

"She wants to get back at him for cheating. She said he humiliated her with how blatant he was about it. She wants to expose him, get him locked up but she needs proof and she wants me to get it. It's a whole complicated thing… but yeah. I'll be going to a ball Mr Grimes is throwing next week undercover and I need to sneak into his office at some point and look for proof. Some of the Italians might be there and who knows who else so I'll be dressed up and acting as a rich bitch," she blew out a breath after her attempt at explaining. 

Foggy blinked at her for a moment.

"I really want to tell you that this is a bad idea and you shouldn't go. But I agreed no lectures and you did just basically help us keep our doors open at the firm. But I will say that I'm worried. Very worried," he muttered tensely. 

"I'm honestly nervous too. But if it goes well then I'll be fine. I'll be extra careful and if it seems too hairy then I'll get out of there. I promise," she reassured. She meant it too. Mrs Grimes refused to go herself because of the risk so she'd get it if she had to duck out and try something else. 

"Okay… I guess I'll just have to accept that," he said reluctantly. She was happy he wasn't fighting her on this because it was already stressing her out.

"And you can't tell Matt," she pointed at him. He frowned deeply and sighed.

"What do you mean I can't tell Matt? He was there when Karen made the connection, you don't think he's gonna be curious about the amount of money?" He asked incredulously.

"Just tell him it was what she was paying me for the normal investigation. She's got more money than sense. He'll have to believe that. I really don't need him butting in with this, not when Mrs Grimes already thinks I should take someone with me to the ball," she huffed.

"Okay now I'm just confused. Wouldn't Matt be the perfect person to take with you?" He asked with furrowed brows.

"If he wasn't a dick then yeah," she glowered. Foggy nodded, leaning forward with his arms on his knees as he looked at her.

"I don't know what went down after I left the other day, but this feels way worse than normal and I don't like it,"he mumbled forlornly. She rubbed her temples and raked her teeth over her lower lip as she stayed silent. 

"Was it what he said? About Mr Lee?" He questioned gently. She'd almost forgotten he'd been there for that remark. Her lips stayed firmly sealed as she glared at the coffee table, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Talk to me, Daph. You and Matt are both my friends and it's hard being in the middle like this. He's done nothing but mope around doing his Catholic guilt thing since you last saw him and you seem miserable. I care about you. I'm not gonna sit here and force you to like him or even spend time with him, but I want you to talk to me," he implored. She took a deep breath, mulling over if she should tell him. But he’d wore her down and she found her mouth opening anway.

"His words really cut me deep. They hurt me and I didn't expect that. We've said a lot of shit to each other since we met but that was just… it was cruel. And I get it, he was scared and he lashed out. He said sorry and I actually believe him. But I'm mad at myself. I'm mad because I let him in somehow without realising it. I gave him the power to hurt me with his words. I'm mad because somewhere along the way something changed and I actually care about what he thinks of me," she whispered without looking at him. She almost felt ashamed to get it all out, lay it all on the table. But Foggy wasn't Matt. Being vulnerable around him wouldn't get her hurt.

Foggy scratched his chin, looking at her sadly. 

"I wanna say something and I don't want you to interrupt... I think that maybe you need to come to terms with the fact that feelings are involved in this thing with Matt," he started. She opened her mouth to protest but he shot her a look, promptly snapping her mouth closed.��

"You both can deny it until you're blue in the face, but it's there. It's always been intense with you two. Since the moment you met, up 'til now. No matter what emotion it is, it's strong. And there's a fine line between love and hate," he added.

"I don't love Matt!" She protested, unable to keep quiet at that ridiculous notion.

"Maybe not love. Not yet. But something. You both get under each other's skin so easy because you both care about what the other says. You get hurt when he's genuinely been a dick and he's hurt because he knows he's hurt you. I get it's weird and complicated with you both. And now there's intense sex thrown into the mix and its all blurry. But at some point you two stopped being mere annoyances to each other and denying it is just making things worse," he frowned. She clenched her jaw, really not wanting to be part of this conversation. 

"Matt's been through so much in his life. Like a rigorous amount of bullshit and I sometimes don't know how he keeps going. And he's lost a lot of people one way or another. He shields himself because he's scared. He doesn't wanna get hurt again. But you… I think you got to him. I think you chipped at the armor he wears and that terrifies him. So his only way of dealing with it is being an asshole to push you away. And something tells me you're exactly the same way," he murmured. 

"You don't know me," she snapped without meaning to. He looked hurt and nodded.

"Fine," he stood up and walked to the door. She scrunched her face up feeling like the worst person ever. Foggy was the last person she ever wanted to hurt and her chest felt tight.

"You know what? No, it's not fine. You're doing it right now and I'm not biting!" He frowned, whirling  back around and pointing a finger at her. She lowered her head like a scolded child but took it because she deserved it.

"I'm not saying you guys are in love or that anything will come out of it. But I know my best friend more than anyone and I know when someone's affecting him. And I've seen it with you two from the start, even if you both refuse to admit it. But what I'm saying is that maybe it's time you both just stop. Stop with the angst and the bullshit because you're only hurting yourselves. Try to be friends or something. Anything’s better than this endless loop you're both on," he groused and she stood up to face him.

"I'm not like you, Foggy. I can't just… I don't know how to connect with someone. The only way we became friends was because it's you. You just have this way about you and it's so easy to be around you. And I've tried with Matt, I've shared things with him, personal things and he threw them back in my face. So yeah, maybe I do shut down and I'm not easy to be around for him but it's because he makes it impossible. There is no way out of this endless loop. You told me that me and Matt are a lot alike and honestly I think you're right. Which is why it would never work being friends or anything else with him. I know he can be a great guy, I've seen it. But he's not that guy with me," she frowned. 

Foggy hung his head and nodded.

"I just think… if you guys moved past this crap, you could make each other really happy. But I'll drop it," he relented. She stayed silent as her emotions were all over the place. She didn't know what to think any more. 

"We're all going to Josie's tomorrow night to celebrate the money thing. Karen really wanted you to come as a thank you… but no pressure," he murmured quietly.

He gave her a hug before he saw himself out and she just stood there for a moment. She couldn't help but think back to what Karen said and how similar it was. She had no idea why people seemed to think there was something there with them both when they couldn't even manage to be friends. They were both hard headed and stubborn and lashed out when someone got too close. That wouldn't make anyone happy. But she couldn't deny the fact that Foggy had some points that rang true. Because it had turned into something somewhere along the way. If it hadn't then she wouldn't have been hurt by his words and she would have brushed them off like so many times before. Maybe feelings were involved but she had no idea which ones. She wasn't used to having them.

[princessofgayskull]

somehow I’ll still love you more (kitra fic sneak peak)

so this is a scene from my upcoming fic somehow I’ll still love you more, which at is core is going to be a kitra/baby fic. However, there’s a lot I want to say about this (you know me, can’t keep that word count down) so this fic will be nothing if not a full course meal.

The fic is told in a nonlinear fashion. This particular scene I wanted to share with you guys because I believe it touches on a lot of what the fic is going to be about. It’s set between the episodes White Out and Light Spinner in Season 2. Enjoy! (this has not been beta’d yet)

“Scorpia,”

“Hmm- huh?”

“Stop doing that.”

“Stop doing what?”

Pulling up the hand brake, Catra stopped the speeder in its tracks before whirling around, her left eye twitching like the movement was the only thing keeping her eyeball in place. “That- that thing you’re doing with your mouth. That noise you’re making under your breath.”

“Singing?��� Scorpia raised an eyebrow. 

“You call that singing?” Catra scoffed at her inferior. Look, Catra got that growing up in the Horde meant there weren’t any private music lessons (even if that was in Shadow Weaver’s job description she’d just relegate that responsibility off to some tone deaf Force Captain so she’d have more time to make Catra’s life a living hell and dote on Adora on the side) that all those half-witted princesses definitely got growing up, but it was like Scorpia was trying for the same sound her pincers made when she dragged them down slabs of concrete. 

Catra’s hand squeezed the brake handle until the pressure hurt the bones in her hand, her left eye still twitching. It was like Scorpia was trying to tank Catra’s recent promotion as Hordak’s second in command by being as annoying as she could on purpose. But who wasn’t trying to derail all of Catra’s hard earned progress these days?

“Oh um, I could stop. If you want.” Scorpia muttered, her face falling into an expression that gave Catra the urge to both scream, puke, cry, and beg for forgiveness at the same time. And lately, every action, every word, every little breath that any took in her direct vicinity set off a domino effect of violent emotions in Catra, every single one too enormous and too consuming for her body. 

Good thing Catra didn’t have time for any of that. 

“Just-” Catra’s breath faltered when Scorpia refused to look at her (what? Now she was the bad guy just because she needed focus or Hordak would have her sent to Beast Island? Or worse?!), “- just don’t do it right now, okay?”

This earned Catra an enthusiastic nod, and she was too fucking tired to do anything but figure that was going to have to do, given the time crunch, and not mention, the insane amount of pressure she was running under. Clicking the brake, Catra pushed the handle down, fucking ecstatic to be driving the speeder the rest of the way in peace and quiet. Finally. Scorpia didn’t say another word, didn’t make another noise, until Catra was pulling up to the edge of Dawn’s Pass and activating the brake again.

That was good enough for Catra.

Just as Catra moved up to the edge to take a watchful stance of the town, Scorpia opened her big mouth. “Uh, boss? Not that I don’t love these recon missions with you lately, but I gotta ask: why are we staking out this village again? The Horde’s occupied this place for the last twelve years, and this isn’t exactly what I pictured when you said we were going to start hanging out over work? I mean, unless Dawn’s Pass has a mean bowling alley. Does- does it?”

“No,” Catra’s tail twitched in irritation. 

“Oh.” 

A cadet, waving his baton in a steady motions, stood at the broad brick wall that blocked off the town as his shift replacement approached from the west, whistling a tune through their helmet so ear shattering it put Scorpia’s new little song to shame. Keeping her eyes trained on the two of them, Catra braced herself for the metallic scent of magic to hit her nose. There was the quick swish of her claws unsheathing, and then, a pregnant silence. 

If they’re going to strike, Sparkles and Rainbow and- and Adora, or any of the other dopey Princesses- are going to strike now.

But Catra watched unfold was a typical exchange between Horde Cadets: a simple salute, a complaint about standing for ten hours, and a wish for good luck during the dull, boring night shift. No Princesses. No magic. No threats anywhere in sight.

Nothing. Just like Dawn’s Pass went from being a primary target to just another boring occupied village and Catra’s paranoia had wasted another night. Grimacing, her claws digging into her forehead, Catra actually found herself hoping Hordak would be too busy wasting pleasantry on the Princess who sat at (or on it, literally, because Entrapta just thought she was the shit and that she could waltz into any room) his throne to speak with her tonight. Her lengthy string of failures was getting harder and harder to choke her way through excusing.

“So um,” Scorpia started up again, sending Catra’s ears laying flat up against her head. She exhaled a hot and irritated sigh, but the Horde’s hostage/princess stayed true to her inability to take a fucking hint, “when you said we were going to start hanging out after we came back with all that tech from the the Northern Reach, I just- I just didn’t picture us, you know patrolling.”

An angry pulse ran up Catra’s back at the mention of their tech victory- Entrapta’s tech victory- back in that shitty winter wasteland she almost froze her tail off in. “Scorpia,” her voice was thin, “I told you a thousand times, I don’t have time. Just take what you’re given and try not to complain.”

Wow, did she just sound like Shadow Weaver right then. Whatever, Catra turned her head away from Scorpia, in no mood to deal with the fallout of seeing her sort-of-friend’s expression, maybe the Old Crone was right about some things in the end.

“Can I ask why we’re here? Like here, here? What makes a place with no bowling alley so interesting?” The second Scorpia let up, Catra let her forehead hit the rim of the speeder and didn’t even blink at the ringing pain. Ugh, Scorpia just never gave up. How many times did Catra have to ask for some damn silence so she could think? 

Running her claws down her face- again- Catra grunted, “Dawn’s Pass can’t fall into the hands’ of the Rebellion. If we lose it, or if they’re conspiring with the Princesses, we’re going to lose the Horde’s longest occupied village and we’ll be giving up the tactical advantage it gives us against that flower Princess’s kingdom.” And I will have another failure under my badge. If I lose another town, I can basically kiss my Force Captain badge goodbye. And maybe my life.

“Ohhhh…” Scorpia trailed off. At this point Catra was going to end up with a bitch of headache just from rolling her eyes at the other Force Captain. “Yeah, that makes sense. This’ll be fun! Patrolling the occupied territories with my bestie!”

Catra made a noise of disgust, but it wasn’t enough to stop Scorpia from pushing herself onto the front seat and almost pushing Catra out of it. Leaning the exoskeleton covered parts of her elbows onto the rim, Scorpia let out a contented sigh, her ditzy gaze trained on the town as Catra struggled- yipping and yelping to no end and scratching up the dinged up leather of the seat- to get her tail out from under the other woman’s butt. 

Do the words “personal space” just mean absolutely jackshit to her? Catra, gripping her freed tail, growled under her breath and turned away from Scorpia. The seat was practically hers now! Looks like kneeling on the floor would have to do! It’s like I’m wearing a sign on my forehead that reads “what’s mine is yours, including the air I breathe!” Ugh, of course Hordak doesn’t listen to me, nobody does! Not even Scorpia! Everyone is too busy with their own heads up their asses to see what I’m trying to accomplish, or to give me enough space to let me do it! And she wonders why I don’t wanna “hang out after work,” or whatever.

Maybe bringing Scorpia as her backup belonged up there with some of Catra’s worst ideas; not like she didn’t have a pretty impressive tab of those wracked up already. Whatever, the universe wasn’t exactly open to responding to any of Catra’s actions with anything other than another round of punishment, so it wasn’t like acting on her impulsive or emotional notions were really going to be her undoing. Not with Hordak out for her neck, her badge no longer wielding the protective force that came with having real authority. 

Catra was an idiot to think that power would’ve actually lasted her longer than a week, that now that she’d taken out Shadow Weaver and left her to her rotting self in a cell that there wouldn’t be another player on the board that could take her shield of Second in Command away from her. Well, that’s what she got for letting Entrapta into their vents. Helping them win the war or not, Horde or not, their resident techwhiz was still a Princess.

And princesses weren’t good for anything other than being annoyances that stood in Catra’s way.

“Are you seriously humming again, Scorpia?!” Catra yelped out, the volume of her voice loud enough to scare several birds from off the town’s wall. Her split eyes had been trained on the town as she crouched at the bottom of the speeder, the only entertainment the angry spiral echoing in her brain, tailing the action of a family and their wagon of sparse supplies as they approached the gate when the grating sound smacked her upside the head. The resulting intensity of her fury was almost enough to give Catra the strength to put her fist through the wall of the speeder.

Scorpia retreated into herself. “Sorry.”

Holding back a response, Catra just scoffed again and turned back to the previous subject of her attention. Watching one of the men of the family reach the gate and request entrance into his town was better than directing a full on meltdown at her inferior, kicking her out of the speeder, and forcing her to walk her way back to the Fright Zone. Catra wasn’t so far drowning her rage to something that idiotic, yet.

It was big yet. Catra knew that as she tried to shift her position, rolling her head on her shoulders and squeezing her fists, breathing only through her nostrils despite understanding that there was no sitting with an anger this encompassing. The feeling pushed and pushed and pushed at her physical walls until it was practically promising that Catra’s building fury would end one mesmerizing explosion, one that would take her, Scorpia, the family, the Horde Cadet, the entire town, all of it, out with a bang. 

Now if only Scorpia had the brains to know that when she started her singing up again.

Catra peeled her blue eye open. The sun was beginning to set, and it had bathed the surrounding forest in shades of soft pink and orange, a scene so painfully ordinary it meant they couldn’t be anywhere else other than reality. Underneath the shadow cast by the stone wall, Catra took in a breath as she watched the first man continue to negotiate his family’s entrance into their own town.

Okay, so she’d hadn’t blown them all to fiery simtheriens- not the speeder, not the wall, not the little girl watched over by another man stumbling barefoot in the grass, letting out happy babbles as she pulled out clumps of grass and started sticking them in her cloth diaper until her father got down on his knees just to get her to stop. Guess Catra could count that as victory that her emotions hadn’t ended in an explosion that ended a child, a baby. Catra figured that given the fact that each step the little girl took on those chubby little legs of hers was a leap of faith that she probably wasn’t even a year and a half old.

The other man, the one that had chosen to forgo the customary negotiation in favor of watching the little girl experiment with walking near their wagon, moved from his kneeling position to pick her up. Something about the way the villager held her with a grip firm enough to keep his child from falling, yet not with so much strength that he hurt left a series of psychosomatic bruises up and down Catra’s ribs. She watched as the man ran a hand bigger than his daughter’s entire head through her soft and downy mauve hair, careful to avoid the tiny stumps in her head that would eventually become long enough and pronounced enough to match the horns of her father’s head. Catra let out a breath she was holding just to suck in another.

“Dada!” Even from the faraway vantage of the speeder Catra’s ears still picked up on the sound of the little girl recognizing her father. Because the universe was both impartial and cruel. Right as Catra realized she had stuck one set of claws in her mouth and she was chewing on them- who was she?! Adora?! Out her biting her freaking nails ‘cause something had the nerve to make her uncomfortable?- the baby stuck her tiny, chubby little hand into her father’s bright orange beard and yanked without mercy.

Now that guy’s screams scared the rest of the birds away.

As the family’s head negotiator rushed away from the Horde Cadet to tend to his husband’s facial hair, their daughter laughing up a riot at their combined reactions, Scorpia leaned over to where Catra sat on the floor, her tail twitching back and forth. “Uh boss?” she started but Catra didn’t turn away, her hand clutched into the fabric that rested above her sternum and not on her Force Captain badge for once. “Should we do something about these guys?”

“Why? They’re not Princesses.” They’re just a normal family trying to get into the place they live, so they can take their daughter home and have a dinner together that’s not mush, and then tuck their daughter in, tell her bedtime stories, be there in the night in case she has nightmares and needs them.

The fathers joined in on their daughter’s laughter.

“Well, that is true.”

A new feeling crept up Catra’s spine, but this time around the discomfort didn’t bring to her the edge of explosion. Implosion, actually. It was the same heaviness that settled in her lungs and crawled up to her throat, a slow and destructive effective infection of Catra’s self, when Hordak shut down her ideas to let Entrapta speak. When the Princesses left a trail of glitter behind running, tripping over themselves to follow She Ra’s lead. When Shadow Weaver cupped Adora’s face and showed her with praise for the simplest fucking task. 

Yeah, Catra knew it made her the world’s biggest idiot to keep her eyes on the seemingly indifferent family and the happiness that radiated off them. She was aware of the damage she brought on herself by not turning away, the risk she ran by letting her emotions run her. So why couldn’t she look somewhere else, anywhere else?

“I can’t wait to be a mom.” Scorpia said out of nowhere. Ears flying straight up, Catra blinked before turning to gawk at her. 

“Wait, really?” A mom mom, as in a�� person who takes care of and looks after her children? 

“Yeah, I mean, it’s something I’ve always wanted.” Scorpia shrugged, somehow rubbing her neck with those big pincers of hers. “Why, do you think that’s a bad idea?”

“Scorpia, we’re in the middle of a war,” and that was putting it bluntly, “Besides, Hordak doesn’t even allow fraternization between his soldiers, much less-” her sputtering stops, Catra’s brain still tripping over the word fraternization, “having a family!”

“Well, we’re not going to be at war for the rest of our lives, Catra. Once we get the rebellion to surrender, I kinda wanted to set down roots, do something other than be a Force Captain, not that I don’t love doing that. I’m sure Hordak will loosen up about the whole fraternization thing as soon as we win! I mean, you’ve seen how he was with Entrapta!”

At her words, Catra came close to all out hurling over the speeder’s edge. It was crappy enough of Scorpia to bring up how Entrapta and Hordak were getting closer every day and shoving Catra out of the position she worked her ass off for, but then she had to go and frame it like that? 

Look, Catra got that Entrapta wasn’t the most socially aware princess, but yikes. That didn’t mean she didn’t have some sort of standard.

“What about you, Catra?” Scorpia continued, “What do you- um, what do you see yourself doing after the war?”

Catra met Scorpia’s eyes, only to regret it. “I- I-” she stuttered, looking away and forcing her eyes closed. Pfft, after the war? After the war? How the hell was Catra supposed to picture an after when her entire life, her entire purpose, every goal she’d ever had, was only because there was a war to begin with? 

The Horde conquers the rest of the planet, sends the Princesses running, puts She Ra in the ground, and what, Catra was just supposed to have a plan for after that? What… what was Catra supposed to do when they did win, when the Horde pulled off everything she worked for?

Even though she was expecting to find an emptiness, a blank space, a new start for the after the war when she tried imagining it, all Catra could picture was blonde hair tied up in a tight ponytail, melodic laughter accented by brief snorts ringing in her, the bluest eyes cutting through the longing. The same longing that plagued Catra when she forced her eyes open and saw the two fathers talking to their daughter in gentle yet bright voices, explaining to her that the soldiers had processed their papers and they could go home now.

“I don’t know.” was Catra’s quiet response. 

There wasn’t any promise Hordak would keep her alive that long anyway, or if there would be anything left to live for by the time Catra got Adora down her knees and ended it all- by giving into that implosion that lived deep down in her core, letting it rip right through her and seeing to it that her love for Adora severed the universe in two, creating black hole that would suck them all in eventually- right then and there. Like it always promised to.

A part of Catra tried to push beyond that implosion, tried to picture the future Scorpia envisioned in her mind of setting down roots and birthing legacies. Was there a part of her, beyond the pain and the brokenness, that wanted what Scorpia wanted, too?

Watching that family tonight had been the only part of her mission that hadn’t felt the same as downing a vat of acid down her throat. And as hell bent as Catra was on obliterating any princess that dared to mess with this town’s occupation, there was no animosity in her heart towards that little girl.

She was kinda cute, in the mischievous, funny kind of way. And almost fun- for a baby, that is.

But when Catra closed her eyes once more to picture that little girl and her happy, innocent smile, all that was waiting for her was the image of a shriveled shadow, locked and rotting away back in the Fright Zone.  

[thethoughtsfromthreeam]

Astronomy Lesson

Pairing: The Mandalorian/ Din Djarin x Reader

Warnings: None

A/N: I dug around, but there seems to be nothing on Mandalorian astronomy and there is clearly a lot of gaps in the history, so I took full advantage.  The stories told within this are my own invention, so if they don’t mesh with Mandalorian culture, well, is it a surprise to my regulars that I don’t really mesh with canon all that well?

Reminder:  I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit.  I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.

Tags:  @zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @beskars​ , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder, @lavenderl3mons , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito​ , @randomness501 , @fioccodineveautunnale  , @altarsw

---***---

Hyperspace was quiet, but beautiful and Din Djarin used those moments to find inner calm in a life that was anything but.  The travel to the next planet, even in hyperspace, was going to take several hours and he took a chance to rest, maybe even sleep a little, until the cycle of bounty hunting began all over again.

He slept quietly for a long time before he was drawn from his slumber by the murmur of a voice.  As he became more alert, he could hear her talking.  At first, he thought it was to herself – she had a bad habit of doing it – and he smiled, but he realized that occasionally a small cooing noise seemed to respond to the words being spoken.  He sat in the captain’s chair, facing away from them, but listened intently to what she was saying.

“Watch your fingers, we don’t want to prick them with the needle!”  She smiled as the child tried grabbing the sharp object every time it pierced the fabric.  He loved watching her work on various embroidery projects and seemed fascinated when the small pieces of thread became a big picture.

“Do you see that one?  That is te gaid, five stars united to help protect the Mando’ade.  Legend says that the Taung used their shields together to create great walls of protection in times of war.  They don’t use shields anymore, but in the sky te gaid is to remind the Mando’ade the ka’ra will always protect them.”  Her voice was soft, almost lilting as she recounted the story and the child seemed to understand as he ran his little hand across the image on the cloth.  The white stood stark against the swirls of navy blue and black that she had been stitching over the last month.

Din’s breath caught in his chest when he realized what she was teaching the child.  But he kept still, wondering if she had more to say.  The child patted her hand and when she looked at him, he pointed at a long line of stars before looking back her, expecting the story for that constellation, too.  She smiled as she kissed the top of his head.

“Ah, the bevii’ragir.  Hunters since the early days of Mandalore use it to hunt for food and to protect their clans from attack.  But it is said that the bevii’ragir gave life to the world.  Long before the Mando’ade and even in the days before the Taung, the galaxy was a swirl of violence where no life could take root and thrive.  In this miasma rose Kad Ha’rangir who saw that the chaos needed to be tamed.  So, he went to war to bring order to the galaxy so that life may thrive.”

She stabbed the needle a little harder into the fabric to punctuate her story and the child giggled at the image.  She made a few more stitches before she tied off the thread and continued her story.

“Kad Ha’rangir used his bevii’ragir to defeat those who threatened life and as he made his way from planet to plant, new worlds sprung up in his wake. Because Kad Ha’rangir had slew chaos with his bevii’ragir, the Mando’ade created their own so they, too, could keep chaos at bay.  It was a bringer of life.”

And so the stories continued as the child pointed to new constellations – the verborir’ce that protected the Mando’ade from their enemies and now protected their identities, the Mythosaur that Mandalore the First slew to give Mando’ade their first home, the senaar, little birds that whistled sweetly but were very deadly; many more stories flowed from her lips as she worked on her project.  

The two were so lost into their own little astronomy lesson that they didn’t realize that Din had turned the chair to watch them.  She, hunched over him like a reverent mother with golden flowers in her hair mimicking the glow of a halo, and the child, gazing up at her with love.  His heart clenched at the sight and nothing in his world ever felt so right as this singular moment did.

As she clipped off the last of the thread, she unscrewed the hoop to let the entire cloth layout – the project was done.  She smoothed it on the arm of the chair, trying to reduce the creases before she ironed it later.  He could see from where he sat an entire starry sky telling the history and story of Mandalore spinning out from the insignia of the mudhorn in the middle.  Din’s sharp intake of breath at the sight caught her ears and she looked up, realizing he was watching them.

“Oh.”  She blushed as she began to roll up the fabric, embarrassed because she thought he had been asleep.  She wondered how much he heard while she had been talking.  When he brought her on board in Byss to care for the child and the new needs of the Razor Crest, he just knew her as a seamstress with a knack for people.  

He didn’t know she was a scholar and that she was versed in myths and legends from around the galaxy, hundreds of stories swirling in her brain at any given time.  It was likely she knew more Mandalorian myths than he had forgotten over the years.

“Can I see it?”  He sounded shy and she cocked her head.  Her brave Mandalorian, shy?  She smiled, her own uncertainty dissipating.  She moved the child onto the seat next to her and scooched closer until her knees were touching his and she unfurled the project onto their laps.  He looked for a long time, seeing familiar constellations once lost to him as the stories swam in his mind, a little hazy.

He pointed to a pair of constellations that he couldn’t recall, one shaped like a zig zag and one shaped like a simple home, but both incredibly close to each other. His head tilted in question.

“The cyare soldus – the loved ones.  Do you not know the story?”  He could feel his cheeks warm, as if they were on fire.  Despite hearing her tell the stories she just shared, it didn’t dawn on him that she understood Mando’a.  He had been calling her cyare for months now, thinking he was being clever using his mother tongue to hide his endearment towards her.  He hadn’t been, apparently.

Nothing about her face showed him that she knew what he was thinking and instead an excited giggle rose from the child as he climbed back onto her lap when he realized she was going to tell another story.  He settled in and she leaned back to begin the tale.

“The story of the cyare soldus is one of love and devotion.  A powerful Mando’ade named Ukra won many battles in the name of Mandalore, but for all his victories to protect his clan and the Mando’ade, he was very lonely.  He prayed to the Maker each day to guide him into the arms of his riduur, to give him new meaning in the world.  But none came.

“Then one day, Ukra was alone at a market on a planet neighboring Mandalore when he saw her, his riduur.  Her name was Adas and she sat a loom, weaving the cloth used to make the capes favored by the Mando’ade and she hummed a tune as she worked.  But she stopped when she felt someone staring at her.  She smiled at him and despite not being able to see his face, she knew he was meant to be hers.”

As the story flowed over them, Din could feel a faint burning in his ears as a sense of familiarity began to grow.

“But before he could talk to her, a thief barreled through the market and as he was cornered, he drew a blaster and fired wildly into the crowd.  Ukra saw Adas was in danger and he leap over the table and pulled her to the ground, using his armor to protect her.

“Ukra turned and shot the thief, killing him instantly and saving the market from the danger.  He turned back to Adas and helped her up.  He asked her to come with him, to be his riduur, but she declined.  She said that she had heard of the great Ukra and felt that she, a simple weaver, could not be the great wife a man such as him needed.”

She paused a moment to catch her breath and the child cooed in excitement, as if clamoring for her to continue.  Both were unaware of the shifting of Din in front of them, as he began to think not of the story she told, but of a share memory from the recent past that seemed hauntingly familiar.

“But Ukra was not deterred.  For seven days, he returned to the market and asked Adas the same question and seven times she refused.  He begged her to tell him what he needed to do to make her his riduur and she told him to return in three days and she would.

“Three days later, Ukra returned to the market to see the loom still and no Adas to be found.  He panicked and began asking everyone where she had gone.  Someone took pity on the Mandalorian and told him to seek her out in the temple. And so, he went.

“There, in the darkness was Adas and Ukra dropped to his knees, again begging her to tell him what he needed to do.  She told him he must complete three tasks.  The first was to find a golden flower shaped like the Maker’s star. The second was to bring her three skiens of the fine wool of the ovis of Kashyyyk.  And finally, he must bring her three of the purple gemstones found in the caves of Naboo.

“He agreed and for a year and a day, Ukra travelled the galaxy in search of the items Adas had requested.  Upon his return, he found her at the market as always and when he presented his bounties to her, she nodded and told him to return to the temple in ten days.

“On the morning of the tenth day, Ukra arrived at the temple.  He looked but could not find Adas.  She called his name from behind him and he saw her, adorned in a new dress made from the fine wool of the Kashyyyk ovis. At her throat was a necklace, sparkling with the gemstones of Naboo, and in the swirls of her hair rested the flower that resembled the Marker’s star, seemingly a beacon guiding one home.

“Adas spoke, ’I agree to become your riduur Ukra because you have shown me your love and devotion.  She walked to him and took his hand in her own, saying the vows he longed to hear from her.  We are one whether we are together or apart, we will share everything, and we will raise our children as warriors.  Ukra removed his helmet and they kissed under the star of the Maker, who answered his prayers.

“Legend says that Ukra and Adas welcomed many children into their home, creating a large clan that protected the Mando’ade for many generations. When they were old, they prayed to the Maker that they should die together and the Maker made it so, placing them in the night sky to remind the Mando’ade that the devotion of the cyare soldus will secure the future of Mandalore.”

As she ended her story, a large yawn came from the child and she giggled at him.  He laughed too as his eyes began to droop, clutching the necklace that rested on her breast.  He adored the sparkle of the lavender gemstone and played with it often.  It was his favorite thing to hold when she told her stories, almost like a child clasping a dolly.

She brushed her lips over the small head and began to whisper in his ear as she lifted him off her lap and placed him gently into his carrier.  She arranged the soft blankets around him and smiled as his large eyes closed into a soft slumber.  The adults were left to face each other.

During the story, Din had sat quietly, realizing their own story mirrored the she told.  He knew she had been perfect for the job when he saw her, and covert research told him his instincts were correct.  When he asked her to come with him, she refused several times however, demurring that she was a seamstress and not a warrior like himself.  

He spent several days trying to get her to change her mind and still she refused, even the face of blaster fire that swept through the shopping area she was working in. It was only when he brought her the child and explained what he needed of her, she relented and agreed to join him.  After ten days, they left Byss to continue the search for the child’s home planet and his people.

With her story done, she rolled up the fabric and tied it with a bit of ribbon.  She placed it carefully into her sewing bag before settling back into the chair to look at him. He had been awfully quiet, and she knew he was thinking about them and the story she just told them.

“What will you do with it?”  His voice gave away his curiosity.  The piece was at least two feet long and she had put so much time into it, surely, she had plans.

“I will frame it, then it can be hung in your bunk.”

“You made that for me?”  He was surprised and she laughed at his tone.

“Of course.  The resol’nare dictates that you are to raise the child in the Mandalore tradition.  You have nothing here that will teach the child the ways of the Mando’ade.  And all training begins with a good story, after all.”

“But we will find his people.” He argued, not wanting to give into the hope that her words gave him.

“After a year of searching, Din?  Surely you must realize the chances are now slim and that you were meant to raise him as your own. You have been devoted to him and he will always see himself as a Mandalorian above all else.”  She stood up, brushing lint off her fine wool dress, and bent down to gather her bag to take it to her small bunk.  

There was that burning sensation in his ears again.  A year. His head tilted so he could look up at her and she could feel the atmosphere shift between them.  She looked at him, a small smile on her lips.

“You are as one, Din.  He will share in everything with you.”

“No, cyare, whether together or apart, we are as one and will share everything.”  His voice was resolute as he stood, and she could feel his eyes on her before she nodded at him, setting her bag down on the chair behind her.  A year and day had been building towards this.

“We will share everything.”  Her voice was just as firm, and he dropped his helmet, so it gently touched her forehead. He placed his hand in between them, palm open to her.  She took it in both of hers and his fingers curled to hold her close.

His cyare.  A woman who had known his words.  Known his intentions.  Had known him.

“We will raise the child as a warrior.”  His voice caught as he said the last of the vows.  But hers remained strong, so much like herself.

“We will.”

---***---

Translations and Notes:

Te gaid – the shield

Bevii’ragir – a spear used by hunters among the Mandalorian, its history isn’t well charted but is said to be ancient.

Verborir’ce – the helmet

Senaar – bird

Riduur - wife

[lindwur-fr]

Migration

As the Emperor rages, Vagrilux retreats into the underground city

No warnings here~! This is what happened to Vagrilux, as the Clan territory is frighteningly close to the Emperor. Thankfully, Vagrilux has a secret...

@murdoch-fr

The Clan had filed into the Underground safely.

Curtis' heart flailed in his chest like a caged bird as the entrance was sealed by the two large Guardians known as Slate and Tanzanite. The horrified faces of all of his Clan stared at the last vanishing strongs of light as they vanished behind the giant rock slate.

The entrance was too small for an Emperor to fit through. And it wasn't like this underground stronghold hadn't been tested before. Azathoth had told Curtis how it had withstood against Emperors before. They would be safe here.

But how long would they need?

Rubrik was already setting up the Seeing-Pool underground, in the event the one aboveground was destroyed. But with the Tidelord gone, it was unlikely they would recieve a vision until the turmoil above them calmed down.

Curtis drew a slow, shaking breath.

"Everyone..." His voice rang out in the echoing chamber they stood in- the entrance to the grand underground city. "We must remain calm." He cast his golden gaze around his friends and family, who stared back beseechingly. "The Emperor cannot find us here. It will chase Clans as they flee, and this is Vagrilux's greatest asset. No other Clan knows about this aside from Theodore's. We expect them to arrive shortly, using the access tunnels."

Rubrik stepped up beside Curtis, Ignacia soaring over the assembled crowd and landing neatly on her adopted son's shoulder. Curtis looked to her thankfully, Ignacia giving him a reassuring, soft stare.

"We will remain here until the Emperor aboveground has been dealt with. In the meantime, Azathoth and the rest of the Underground Residents will assist us all in integrating into this City." Curtis continued, his voice confident. "Silverbell, please step forward."

The pale Pearlcatcher stepped out of the crowd as they parted for her. Her long, elegant antlers wrapped around her pearl neatly, and it gleamed smartly in the torchlight of the underground. She looked up at Curtis, and Curtis felt his heart worm a bit at the look in her eyes. It was filled with fear, and respect. She trusted Curtis wholly and entirely with her life in that moment, and Curtis struggled to choke his voice into authority.

"Silverbell, you are one of the earliest Pearlcatchers the Lightweaver made." Curtis continued steadily. "You are ancient, like Azathoth, Momento, and the others of the Underground city. You know the most about Emperors. Please, tell us what you know, so we can get an idea of how long we may be here."

Silverbell closed her deep amethyst eyes and summoned up the long-stored memories. "The Emperor will be dealt with by Clans stronger than us." She said steadily, her clear and strong voice ringing out for all to hear. "We cannot face an Emperor with so many Imperials of our own. They wouldn't last a second."

Curtis glanced up, seeing Midas and Ming's lips curl, revealing startling canines. A few dragons around them edged away, giving them a wide birth. A few whispers snaked through the air. Curtis caught a few fleeting words- "Can't trust them...", "What if that happens down here...", "Dangerous... Not right. Not natural..."

Silverbell must have heard them as well, for she raised her wings for silence. "We must not let this one Emperor turn us on the Imperials that live among us." Her voice turned firm, and her deep purple gaze sharpened. "We have coexisted long enough to know that the example of one Dragon does not define its species. I have learned this." Her voice wavered somewhat. Curtis knew that Silverbell no doubt was born with the resentment of Imperials, as Pearlcatchers were known for their haterid of their stronger kin, firstborn of the Lightweaver.

"The Imperials that now are The Emperor are freaks!" Ming barked out, her cyan eyes burning with fury. "They didn't participate in the Leaving. Any Dragon with half a brain knows to burn our corpses and grind our bones to dust when we die. To have three Imperials that large, that intact? They either wanted this, or they were too stupid to know the Leaving Ritual."

Midas' nostrils lit up with fire and he nodded in agreement. "To have this Clan think that we would ever do such a thing... To bind our bodies willingly in that Ungodly manner..." He shuddered, his golden scales rattling. "I'm insulted."

Rubrik stepped forward now, his antennae twitching.

"Ming and Midas are the longest-standing Imperials we have here. And with another on the way, we can't afford to have this paranoia run through the Clan!"

His voice was wickedly sharp, and it was obvious to Curtis that Rubrik had been silent for this long because he was sensing the crowd's unease.

"Another?" Cicero, a Pearlcatcher, spoke up. "Is this really the time to be bringing Dragons into the Clan, Rubrik? Do you seriously believe that right now, our best course of action is to take in Dragons not of our own Clan? Imperials nonetheles-"

"SILENCE!"

The whole crowd flinched when Keening and Rubrik spoke out at the same time. Keening made his way through the crowd, the candles that trailed beside him burned brightly, indicating Keening's anger.

Rubrik set his eyes on Cicero as Keening approached him, his pale yellow gaze burning angrily.

"Imperials are not the issue." Keening's warbling tone was not the jovial songbird tone it usually was. It rolled out of his throat like the rumblings of a great machine. "The Emperor is the issue. Imperials all know that they bring danger when they die, it's why they created the Leaving Ritual."

Cicero bared his teeth, his back arching and wings tilting downwards defensively.

"Keening's right." Silverbell spoke up, her eyes now resting on Cicero as well. "The Emperor and the Imperials that created it are an aberration. Not the norm. We have nothing to fear from the Imperials that live alongside us."

Cicero slowly cast his eyes down, taking a few careful paces backwards to blend in with the crowd again, and retreat from Keening's furious presence.

Silverbell looked around the room again, and then up to Rubrik. Curtis could sense the energy of a telepathic exchange between the two, before Rubrik's voice entered his brainspace.

She wants to assume control of settling our Dragons down here, Rubrik said. She knows she holds the spotlight now. She asks for your permission.

Curtis turned his eyes down to Silverbell, who looked up at him now. He gave a slight bow of his head to her, and she bowed in turn to him, before looking back over the crowd.

"Curtis and Rubrik have allowed me to guide you through the Underground City." Silverbell announced. "I was once leader of this place, and I will do my best to assist you all in settling here until it is safe once again."

There were a few murmurs, but most seemed in agreement. They couldn't argue with the past leader of the Underground, after all.

Silverbell looked to the two Imperials who stood in the assembly. "Ming, Midas." She regarded them both curtly."I want you two to help me clear any crystalfalls and rockfalls that may have happened in the years of disuse in the civilian section of the city."

Both Imperials nodded, their eyes bright with determination. Curtis knew that Silverbell made a good call- getting Imperials to help clear the homes and make the living-spaces safe would close any gaps between the rest of the Clan and them.

"Poe, Azathoth, Teru, Iago, Sable." Silverbell continued, glancing to each Dragon as she spoke their name. Each respective dragon tilted their heads, attentive as they were summoned from the crowd. "We need a base of operation for injuries. The ruckus getting here injured some dragons. Do you see the archway leading into the hall, past the dried-up fountain we stand around now? Go through that tunnel, and you will find an old medical wing. I want that place stocked up. Our herbal store is no doubt still alive, if not overgrown with healing herbs. Trim them and collect them as you need. Azathoth will be able to transcribe the old language found in the books in the medical room for you. Go, now."

The five dragons raced off through the tunnel behind the crowd, eager to get to work.

Silverbell thought for a moment, sitting on her haunches and twirling her whiskers thoughtfully.

"Weaver's Guild, follow the group I just sent off and continue until you come to a large dome area at the end of the hallway. That was the hatchery we once used. You'll find nesting materials stored there. Salvage anything you can and create nests. I suspect we may be here for a while, and we need cloths and bedding material for all dragons."

The small, colourful group of dragons raced up the hallway dutifully. Curtis could feel his anxiety lifting as the much more experienced leader, Silverbell, directed the dragons with ease.

"Horus, Xue, Rubrik." Silverbell turned to each one of them in turn. "We need to get outside materials if we want to base here indefinitely. Or at least for a long stretch of time. The fountain rests above an old tunnel that leads to the other territories."

Curtis looked to the fountain. It was large- big enough for an Imperial to coil around the center pillar and still have wiggle room. The statue was of a nondescript dragon, having traits of almost every other species Curtis knew- and even a few he didn't.

"What other territories can we go to, without risking the Emperor finding us?" Ignacia asked, looking to Silverbell uneasily.

"Wind." Curtis replied almost immediately. "It's far enough away, in the calmest territory right now. Fire is having political tension, Ice is out of the question, Nature and Plague broke their armistice, and Water isn't in the best state, either." He looked around, realizing all eyes were on him now. He swallowed his fear and continued. "Shadow is too close to the Emperor's hunting grounds right now, and Arcane is too far away. Wind's storm has recently reversed its direction, but if you remain vigilant, it's not any harder to fly in than before. And Wind has always been our welcome ally."

Xue picked at a gemstone embedded in the ground. "We certainly have the materials to trade. These gemstones will fetch us enough materials to last a long time." He looked up at Silverbell, who nodded, pleased.

"Gather up as many gemstones as possible, and then trade for weaving materials, tools, raw metals, plants, anything that we need to bolster our supplies. Get back here by nightfall, if you can. But if night comes before you can venture back, find a place to stay in the Wind territory."

Rubrik nodded in agreement, stepping down off of the platform and landing beside Xue and Horus, who looked determined and eager to assist in settling this new area.

Silverbell closed her eyes, reaching up to the pearl nestled in her horns and laying her hands on it. Curtis watched as the pearl started emanating a curious glow, before a beam of light slowly stretched across the room, shining on the fountain statue's face.

There was a low grumble, and the statue's eyes opened with a stony grinding noise. The strange stone dragon reared  onto its hind legs, its great stone wings spreading outwards. Its long, coiling tail unwound, and the massive stone golem removed itself from the platform it sat upon, revealing an opening. A cool breeze blew out of it, and the sound of distant wind chimes echoed up through it.

Silverbell lowered her arms. "This creature is called the Landseeker." She looked up at the statue, who still animated, staring down at her with soft eyes. Curtis knew that gaze- it was one shared between mother and child. "The Landseeker is my creation. And they have been asleep for so very long."

The Landseeker leaned its great head down, nuzzling into a hug from Silverbell. She wrapped her arms and wings around its great muzzle, her eyes closed with contentment. "I have missed you." She said softly, leaning back far enough to look at the Landseeker's eyes. "We'll get you fixed up. So long in these caves... You are very limestone-ridden now, aren't you?"

The Landseeker let out a rumble that Curtis could feel in his chest. But he didn't sense any malcontent from the Landseeker. If anything, the great golem seemed to give off an air of protection and calm, despite itself.

Silverbell pressed her forehead to the Landseeker's, smiling warmly. "Guide these three dragons to the Wind Flight's stormy lands. They have taken me in, and they are my family. Give them your blessing and protection."

The Landseeker remained near Silverbell for a moment, before leaning back and turning its gaze to Xue, Horus, and Rubrik, who were staring up at it in undisguised awe. The Landseeker let out another rumble, and gestured to the opening it once laid upon.

Rubrik, Xue, and Horus bowed their heads in a respectful gesture before slipping through the hole one by one. The Landseeker watched them go, before laying down over the opening once more, folding its great wings comfortably over its back, and coiling its tail neatly over its back once more. But it didn't grow still again- its sides rose and fell, its wings shifted, its head wavered... It almost looked like it was breathing, somehow.

Silverbell looked up at Curtis with a smile. Curtis returned it a bit crookedly, amazed by Silverbell's display of power. "The Landseeker is an amazing construct. Thank you for allowing us to see it. All this time we thought it was simply a statue."

Silverbell laughed lightly, waving her paw. "It's quite alright. The Landseeker was once a Vagrliux secret. I see no reason to keep it from our modern descendants. They are our route to every other friendly territory, and our greatest guardian. Their blessing will protect your father and his friends well." She took a few steps back from the main crowd, who were all staring at the Landseeker now. "Curtis, I relinquish the spotlight to you, now."

Curtis chuckled, and looked over the crowd again. Even the Landseeker watched Curtis with a curious tilt of its head now.

"Everyone!" Curtis spread his wings, and the crowd's attention slowly drew to him. "Let us all be thankful for Silverbell and The Landseeker for their massive contribution to the settling of this land. But we musn't keep our claws idle! I want everyone to find a place to work, to hasten the clearing of the civilian quarters. Midas, Ming, please organize teams with the remaining dragons. Any Dragon who isn't physically fit enough to do heavy lifting, please assemble here with Silverbell. Myself, Silverbell, and the attendants will begin organizing the distribution of needed materials, and blueprints in order to create living quarters for all who need them."

"Hear, hear!" Keening called out, flapping his wings and alighting into the air. He landed neatly near Silverbell, his head held high. "I will join Curtis and Silverbell!" He declared with his usual dramatic flair.

"Hear, hear!" A few other dragons called out in turn, flapping or running over to join Keening. A nice group of eight dragons now stood around Curtis and Silverbell. Ophelia, Curtis' own daughter, trotted up happily, a confident smile on her face as she approached her father.

Ophelia, Leilani, Ignacia, Victoria, Ghost, Fern, Keening, and Brio sat around them, all ready to get to work. The remaining Dragons followed Ming and Midas as they exited the main chamber, heading to the western wing where the civilian quarters laid.

There was a brief silence before Ophelia spoke. "We've not much to do right now, do we?" She chuckled.

Curtis laughed a bit uneasily. "I was so caught up, I didn't think about the fact we wouldn't have much to do until our supply team returns." He admitted. The assembled dragons chuckled and snickered, but none appeared uneased by Curtis' lack of forethought.

"It's quite alright," Silverbell smiled. "Anyone would agree that the current events have... Scattered many thoughts."

Curtis sighed and nodded. "Too true." He agreed sagely. "But for now, we should at least brainstorm about home designs. Something compressed, but not cramped. A design for every breed of dragon we have, to accommodate for comfort."

Leilani nodded in agreement. "Our water dragons may appreciate the fountain running once again. But let's get homes designed first."

"I think the biggest homes should be accommodated first." Fern suggested. "And the smaller homes can fit around them snugly."

Victoria gave a thoughtful hum. "And we can perhaps room large and small dragons together, if we run out of space."

"But let's make sure that we're not over-populating one area. We'll have to get one dragon to make rounds to check up on the clearing team to see what sort of plots we have to work with..."

Ideas swirled up quickly, and Curtis found himself relaxing, fitting into the role he had gotten from Rubrik so long ago.

The Vagrilux Leader contributed to the brainstorming conversation eagerly and openly, Silverbell noticed. In her time, she had been in an ivory tower, seperated from the main populi by her status. The Landseeker craned its head down, listening to the conversation and the ideas being flung to and fro.

Silverbell smiled as the Landseeker leaned its head oh-so-lightly on her shoulder. Her respect for this Tundra who led the modern-day clan swelled as the conversation continued, and she had to admit that she was beginning to believe she could learn a thing or two from this young, but wise Tundra.

[ruffsficstuffplace]

The Keeper of the Grove (Part 31)

Ruby and Blake trekked back to Keeper's Hollow, a pole on their shoulders supporting a giant, seven-foot long, several-hundred-pound weight tuna; the latter had a content smile on her face, her stomach noticeably distended.

“We're home, and we brought tuna!” Ruby called out as they came to the foot of the elevator. “Well, just a tuna because Blake got hungry on the ride back, but she'll share with everyone! Except Weiss, sorry about that!”

Silence, not even the sounds of anyone heading out to the elevator.

Ruby frowned. “Uncle Qrow? Penny? Weiss? Zwei? Any of you guys home…?”

It was then that she noticed three figures sitting on the highest balcony of the house--”Qrow's Nest” as her mother used to call it, because of how fond he was of going up there alone. One was clearly Zwei, laying down and looking forlorn; the other two were sitting over the edge, nursing drinks in their hands.

Ruby sighed, her face falling. <Oh no...>

Blake frowned. <You need help with drunk duty?> she asked as they set the tuna down on the ground. <I'll help with Qrow, but Weiss is all yours.>

Ruby shook her head. <Nah, I got this; you get this tuna in the fridge, before the Weavers' spell starts to run out,> she said as she headed up the ladder on the side.

After the fish was safely cut up and stored, Ruby made her way up to Qrow's Nest. Zwei looked up from both Qrow's and Weiss' laps as she poked her head out of the hatch; he panted happily at her, before put his heads back where they were, anchoring them to the floor with his weight, eyes watching them both carefully.

Qrow turned around and waved. “Hey Ruby,” he said, slurring slightly.

“Hey Uncle Qrow,” Ruby said, trying to smile. “You're not both drunk, are you...?”

“Just buzzed, but Weiss is 100% sober,” Qrow replied, before he took another sip of his beer.

“It's impossible to get drunk on milk, after all,” Weiss grumbled, before she took a swig of her own drink.

Ruby blinked. “You're drowning your sorrows in milk?”

“Yes! Because apparently the fermentation process for all your alcohols involves so much bacteria it'll utterly annihilate my stomach as is, and your uncle here only seems to ever buy the shitty, beer-flavoured water than the good brands.”

“Well excuse me for being poor…” Qrow muttered.

“So, how'd the Job Gauntlet go?” Ruby asked quickly.

“Terrible!” Weiss replied. “I failed every single exam. Did you know I'm completely unqualified for any sort of job the Fae could offer me? I have printed evidence from the professionals to prove it, just ask Penny when she's done with her daily maintenance!”

“Did you try the Watchers like Elder Goodwitch asked?”

“She did,” Qrow replied. “The holo for her combat test's gone viral all over AoA.” He switched languages. <It's called 'Soft-Skin Schnee Gits Wrekt.'>

“Go watch it,” Weiss grumbled.

Ruby frowned. “I don't know, Weiss, it sounds pretty--”

“Just do it. The sooner all of you Fae watch it for the fifteen-hundredth time and collectively get sick of it, the better.”

“Shit, Weiss, that holo's going in the Hall of Fame!” Qrow said. “Hundreds of years from now, we're still going to be pulling that out of the Codex and thinking 'Man, you'd think this'd get old, but it just gets funnier each time!'”

Weiss scowled. “That's a very encouraging thought, Qrow,” she said through gritted teeth.

Qrow shrugged. “Just making sure your expectations are realistic! It's easier to just face your shit reality and do something about it now, than waste time and energy pretending things are going magically to become better. Trust me, sooner or later, the smell's going to be impossible to ignore.”

Ruby sighed quietly. “I'll just go do that, then...” she said as she climbed back down.

“Watch it on the HV!” Qrow called out. “It's better with big resolution!”

Later, Blake and Ruby were sitting on the couch, grilled tuna slices, cookies, and milk between them. They loaded up the holo, skipped through the technical details and the info that was for the benefit of the senior Watchers handling recruiting.

They watched Zwei come out from the cage. Ruby smiled, Blake frowned.

<...And for the purposes of this test: ZWEI on FIRE!> Nora cried.

Zwei was set alight with soul fire. Ruby frowned, Blake smiled.

As the giant, flaming, two-headed canine came bounding towards her, Weiss turned around and fled, arms in the air and screaming at the top of her lungs.

<… And our recruit is off, trying to put some distance between her and—oh, nope! Zwei caught up to her already.> In Nivian, “Cardio, Weiss, cardio!”

Weiss replied by shrieking in renewed terror as Zwei grabbed her in one of his mouths, bit down just hard enough to hold her steady as he shook her side-to-side.

“Use your sword!” Nora cried.

Weiss whacked the hilt on the side of Zwei's head.

“Use your sword as a sword!”

Zwei carefully tossed her away. Weiss went flying for several feet, rolling as she hit the dirt. She dropped her rapier as she scrambled back up to her feet and started running for higher ground.

“Wait, Weiss—you dropped your weapon!”

“I KNOW!” Weiss screamed, tears streaming down her face now.

Zwei stopped and looked up at Nora, conflicted and still alight.

<Go get her, boy!> she called out. <She's not going to pass if you go too easy on her!>

Zwei turned to Weiss over on the other side of the arena, sobbing and jumping up and down, trying to reach a handhold that was just slightly taller than she was.

Blake choked on her fish from laughing so hard. Ruby smacked her on the back as they continued watching.

“Turn around and shoot him!” Nora cried. “His vitals are getting low! Well, low enough for you to get a good score!”

Weiss turned around, held up her shooting arm, and fired. Because of the tears in her eyes and the absolute terror she was experiencing, most of the darts missed Zwei in spite of him being an incredibly large target that was only getting closer.

Weiss ran out of ammo, the repeater kept on spinning and whining as she held the trigger.

“Reload! Reload! Reload!”

Weiss started smacking the release lever, her hand missing several times.

“No, Weiss, point it away from your--!”

The empty canister popped out and flew into her eye. “GAH!”

“--Too late.”

Weiss groped about, dropping two of her extra canisters before she finally got a grip on the third. She was about to load it into her repeater when the bright glow of the Pit's floodlights were replaced by an ominous, green hue.

Zwei slowly padded up to her, both heads deep in thought, unsure of what to do.

Weiss screamed, threw the canister at him, it bounced harmlessly off his left head.

Zwei barked.

Weiss dropped to the floor and curled up in the fetal position.

The horn was sounded.

Birds came by and dropped cure water on Zwei, extinguishing the soul fire. An extraction crew came up, along with Penny and a Therapy Mender carrying a well-worn, much-loved limited edition Eluna plushie the Watchers kept on-hand for situations like this.

There was a final shot of Weiss hugging it and squeezing it to her chest as she was carted away, before the video ended.

Blake snatched up the remote, and pressed the replay button.

Ruby heard a door opening, turned around saw Weiss dejectedly walking back into their room, her milk exchanged for one of her bottles of bacteria culture. She picked up her dinner and went on after her.

She knocked on the door with her horns. “Weiss?” she called out. “Can I come in?”

“It's your room, you decide!”

Ruby frowned, and opened the door. She saw Weiss already lying on her side in her hammock, gently rocking back and forth as she hugged Winter's Eluna plushie, an empty bottle on the floor.

“You want some milk and cookies?” she asked as she held up her dinner.

“Already had way too many,” Weiss muttered.

“Okay,” Ruby said. She walked over to her nest, and sat down on one of her pillows. “So...”

“So, what am I going to do about my being a NEET?”

“A what?”

“It's an acronym: 'Not Employed, in Education, or Training,'” Weiss explained. “I guess it's the human equivalent of Moss.”

Ruby nodded. “Yeah, that. So, do you have any talents or anything? Song, dance, arts and crafts, maybe? I'm sure we can use your being a human as a gimmick while you're starting out and building a fan base—I'll even be your audience if you need someone to test an act out on!”

“I can sing, but I think I'll just sell my body to science,” Weiss replied. “If being a star with the Fae is anything like being a star with us humans, the competition's going to eat me alive by virtue of being able to talk with their fans anytime they want without needing a translator…”

Ruby frowned. “Weiss...”

“You don't need to come with me to the Chronicler's Grove,” Weiss said as she turned away from Ruby and to her other side. “Qrow and Penny are already overdue for a 'brain drain,' so they're taking me with them tomorrow morning.”

Ruby sighed and put her food down. “Weiss, you can't just give up like this!” she said as she got up and walked over to the other side of her hammock.

“And why not?!” Weiss snapped, glaring at her, tears beginning well in her eyes once more. “Let's face the facts here, Ruby: I'm completely, absolutely useless to all of you!”

Ruby blinked. “Well duh! I thought that was already pretty obvious.”

Weiss gritted her teeth. “You were supposed to tell me I'm not useless.”

Ruby frowned. “Why would I do that?”

“Because I was fishing for compliments!”

“Fishing for what now?”

“It's when we talk bad about ourselves so other people will try and make us feel better...”

Ruby paused, and slowly raised a finger. “Weiss, let me get off topic for one moment:

“THIS IS WHY I FUCKING HATE NIVIAN! 'THE DOVE DOVE,' 'THE KNIGHT RIDES OUT AT NIGHT,' THE ENTIRE CONCEPT OF 'SARCASM' WHERE YOU SAY THE EXACT OPPOSITE OF WHAT YOU MEAN FOR 'EMPHASIS'!

“WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU EVER INVENT A UNIVERSAL LANGUAGE FOR EVERYONE IN AN ENTIRE REALM WITH THE INTENT OF BEING MISUNDERSTOOD 90% OF THE DAMNED TIME?!

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU HUMANS?!”

Weiss stared up at her, stunned.

“Whew!” Ruby sucked in a deep breath. “Look, I'm sorry, but I had to get that out of my system!

“Anyway… Weiss, you're going to find something you can do to make yourself useful, and even if it's probably going to be just me and Penny, we're going to help you find it. We'll put you through a training regime, teach you Actaeon and all the other stuff you'll need to know, help you develop a skill than you can use to make something out of your life!

“There's a saying in Actaeon—something about every animal, from the smallest bacteria to the biggest monsters in the Timeless Depths being here in Avalon for a reason, all of them with a purpose in life, and because we Fae are animals too, that means we have those too!

“Maybe it won't be as obvious and instinctive as sheep existing to eat grass and get eaten by thunder wolves, who keep their population in check so they don't eat all the grass and everyone dies of starvation…

“… But you're not going to be useless forever, Weiss.

“Maybe now, yeah, you can't do anything right, but way back when, the Valley was just a big patch of wet dirt and swampland that happened to get shade from the sun because of the Twin Peaks, and retained a lot of the water from the Flood.

“But now look at it, after we Fae moved in and put in the work to try and make it better...”

Ding.

Weiss could see the light bulb go off in Ruby's head.

“… And I just got a great idea!”

“It's not going to involve faking my own death again, is it...?” Weiss asked warily.

“Nope!” Ruby replied, beaming. “Go to sleep, Weiss—you're going to need it!” she said as she hurried on out, stopping only to grab her dinner.

Weiss sat up. “Ruby, wait--!”

She was already out the door.

Weiss sighed, before she laid back down, and decided to just do as she was told and get some shut-eye.

Whatever it was Ruby had planned this time, it could wait till morning.

In the living room, Qrow and Blake were still rewatching the footage of Weiss' ill-fated fight, drinks laid to the side after one too many choking and spitting incidents.

<Uncle Qrow!> Ruby said as she zoomed up right to the back of the couch.

Qrow turned around. <Yeah, Ru--?> he dodged and avoided being accidentally gored with her horns.

Blake noticed, and paused the video.

<Sorry!> Ruby cried. <Do we still have dad's old tools?>

<Uh, yeah, they're in the shed, still on the old hooks on the wall—why do you ask?>

<Because, I've got a great idea to help Taiyang stay here!> Summer replied.

Qrow blinked, shook his head, and noticed Ruby frowning at him.

<A flash again...?> she asked.

<Yeah, don't worry about it,> Qrow replied.

Ruby sighed. <You should really go get your chronicle fixed, Uncle Qrow.>

<Not until that doesn't come with a mind wipe...> Qrow grumbled as he turned back to the HV. <Go get Penny to help you, I've stuffed a LOT of crap in there over the years, and I don't know what might have nested there since the last time I opened that door.>

<Will do, Uncle Qrow!> Ruby said, before she zoomed off once more.

<What was that all about?> Blake asked.

Qrow shrugged. <Who knows? Now unpause that holo, we're almost to the best part!>

[magic5ball]

Lucky Pong of PONG CORP

In the Year of our Lord 60,022, fifteen thousand years after the third Dropping of the Bombs, Lucky Pong of the latter day Pongses, 6th Scion of PONG CORP, had a most terrible nightmare. A vision so blasphemous he immediately jumped out of his nest and had his assistant sousaphone the board members- all 1600!- for an emergency meeting in his office at TOP-OF-THE-WORLDTM. The Simians of the Board soared there as fast as they could on genetically implanted wings, pterodactyls, turbosaxes, and all the other wonderful inventions of PONG CORP, to where Lucky Pong, still in his satin nighties, waited for them in the Boardroom.

“Gentleapes, Ladies.” The chimpanzee addressed them before they could so much as scooch in their sitters. “I have called you here in an hour of dire crisis. But first, a PONG CORP brand preyertm!”

The Simians rushed through the preyertm to the Capital, the Free Market, and the Holy PONG CORP, the once and forever true scion of Capital (may it forever guide them).

The ritual complete, Lucky Pong told them of his vision.

“A monstrous, despotic turn of events had occurred! One I had not ever considered possible even in the most absurd of circumstances. Of course I awoke right away, which is why you now all sit before me. Gentleapes, Ladies” Lucky Pong inhaled, the board staring in hushed silence. The idea their beloved CEO could show anything less than pure confidence was absurd to them.

“I had a dream in which PONG CORP did not known everything!”

The simians of the board, unsurprisingly, went apesh!t.

Had their stock NOT been rising exponentially for the past 10,000 years?! Wailed a gorilla.

Had Genghis Pong, Lucky Pong’s own Grandfather, not acquired the rights to Heaven and Hell in a fierce sixty year legal battle?! Howled an orangutan.

The current Pong culled their outrage with a blast from his goober-whistle.

“Ladies and Gentleapes, I chide you now, I chide you! This behavior is what I’d expect from Liberals, not Simians of the Board!”

Still, the Board Members perched in their chairs: eyes covered, so they could see no evil. Ears blotted, so they could hear no evil. Mouths adjourned, so they might not speak evil.

And indeed, they could not see, or hear, or speak evil, because thousands of quarters ago, Lucky Pong’s Great-Great Grandfather Hong Pong had outcompeted evil, forcing it to declare bankruptcy. For the past 1,000 years, it had scraped by as a maintenance worker in Lucky Pong’s toilet-factory.  

“AS I WAS SAYING!” Hooted the indomitable CEO, bearing his fangs. “The implications for this are dire. For if I can dream of a place where we do not own everything, then by logical deduction, there must be a place out there that we DO NOT OWN!”

This was, of course, completely ridiculous, even in a world of where monkeys sat in board rooms nattering about market growth. But they did not question, because their brains had at birth been lopped out and replaced with PONG CORP brand Brainztm. These were fortified with a lifetime’s supply of vitamin C and came in over sixty designer colors, but were, in an ironic twist of fate, not particularly good for critical thought. So when the Board saw Lucky Pong quiver, they quivered with him.

The simian CEO took a swig from a pitcher of Earl Grey tap water.

“I request you all look into this matter immediately! Meeting adjourned!”

The board members loped away with their knuckle walks, leaving only the CEO to mull over the ruckus.

.   .   .

And mull he did, all the way back to his nest-palace, as the sun shone on another PONG CORP brand Dawnetm (Now with more vitamin D!). Oh, how the synapses in his brain fluttered and flackered! So much they sputtered sparks all over the floor.

And by chance, one of them hit a spider, which at the time was busy scrounging for flies on the carpet. The spider let fly a squeal, darting ziggard-zaggard across the carpet…

Right into the dustpan of Freddie, Butler-Domo of PONG CORP.

“What is troubling your mind so, Master Pong?” Instigated the glorified servant. “To stress the lifetime warranty of your magnificent brain?”

“A dream! A terrible dream!” shrieked Pong.

And he lay his pains on Freddie in a most obnoxiously eloquent manner. This was not an unusual experience for Freddie. Unfortunately.

“Well, funny you should mention dreams.” Began that servant. On the terrace, the PONG CORP ZunTM now shone high in the sky. “Because here, in my dustbin, I have a most remarkable creature!”

“Pray tell! Pray tell!” Howled the CEO.

“Observe!” the servant held up the spider. “The glorious DREAM WEAVER!”

The servant released the little arachnid, which, as spiders are wont to do, skittered over to a high wall, and started to weave its’ web.

“Me no concur.” The CEO, scritched his puzzler.

The spider kept to its knitting, uninterested in Pong in a way that perplexed the simian.

“Yes…” said the butler, “But also notice how the Web connects things. And how it holds. Stronger than steel, even!”

Once more, the synapses of Lucky Pong’s cranium sparked erratically. “So with a big enough spider, we could weave a bridge between dreams and reality!” He gripped his butler, motioning dramatically to where the ZunTM shimmered through an open window. “Think of all the worlds we can bring PONGCORP’s glorious LiteTM to! Marvy! Splendiferous!”

“Then we must get cracking, Sir.”

“And crack we shall!” The chimpanzee hooted.

From the nest-palace jetted out millions upon millions of PONG CORP brand pongo-birdsTM, darkening the skies like locusts as they traveled to all reaches of the Earth and its’ moon, issuing a fresh new order from the boss.

While the gene splicers and the chromosome men in R&D handled construction, Lucky Pong of the latter day Pongses, 6th Scion of PONG CORP had to endure the most agonizing burden of all: naming the damned thing. After an hour of spinning in his chair, throwing darts at random letters, he had it.

“AltechTM! The accumulation of all our greatest biotechnology!”

Three generations of PONG CORP low-level employees (a little under a month) later, Lucky Pong, growing anxious, was informed by bumblebee that Project AltechTM was near completion. It just needed his personal touches.

Lucky Pong always hated this part of the process. Whenever he made a new beastie, he would always have to go to the bio-labs, which meant mingling with the proletariat and their hideous mutations. A hazard of his job, he supposed. Still, the moment he saw AltechTM, larger than a football field, soft auburn hair, obsidian pearl eyes; body gently heaving under the weight of the 7D Algae-ChainzTM tethering eight delicate legs, the all-seeing eye of PONG Corp emblazoned on her abdomen; he knew she was the finest thing he’d ever seen emerge from PONG CORP’S dirtied birthing-pools.

She was perfect. And yet…

“Why are the eyes open?” the great CEO interrogated to the High Chief Brainsman, overseer of the project.

“Because spiders don’t have eyelids!”

The Brainsman would have snapped. Of course, he couldn’t splatter so much a syllable before Lucky Pong flung him out for his impudence.

A call for a new Brainsman was in order. But first…

Pongo-birdsTM pecked at Altech’s eyes until the great spider rattled awake.

“AltechTM!” hooted the CEO. “Awaken, my child!”

The spider stared, disinterested in the little monkey. Lucky Pong found this most unnerving, but continued-“

“In our corporation’s time of need, I have created you to spin a web between this world and all the realms of possibility yet to be blessed with PONG CORP’S glory! For a great, horrible injustice is wrought upon our fair business…”

One hour later, the spider was staring at the little monkey as if he had told just told her the secret to the universe was 67.

Lucky Pong snapped his fingers, and the Algae-ChanizTM flew off, clattering to the ground.

“Now- WEAVE!”

But AltechTM did not weave. She didn’t feel like it.

Lucky Pong sighed. Time to be persuasive.

Pulling out his goober-whistle, he breathed through it a loud, shrill, note. This activated the electric eel implanted in AltechTM’s brain, sending a billion volts coursing through her nervous system.

Still, AltechTM did not budge.

Lucky Pong whistled again, and from the hidden corners of the room burst his personal shock jockey troops, brandishing their boomprods. Pong had invested a great deal in this prize, and would not let it slight him so easily. He came prepared.

What he HADN’T prepared for, however, was the great arachnid, simmering, steaming, and finally, EVAPORATEING into the ether, leaving only a small electric eel flopping on the ground.

Everyone stood still, staring at the marvel that had occurred before their eyes.

The great CEO said noting, but seethed in fury as if he would evaporate himself. Lightning bolts shot from his overstressed head.

By the time Lucky Pong had calmed, 99.99% of the staff working on the project had been fired; only a single employee kept on staff to explain the debacle.

“W-well, sir,” quibbled the newly appointed High Chief Brainsman “T-the best I can think of is that it escaped by folding itself into another dimension where the lab doesn’t exist.”

“Bold-ur-DASH! The walls of this facility exist in all seven known dimensions!”

“W-well maybe there’s a-“

Lucky Pong slapped his subordinate, firing him on the spot.

“Villains and Treachery! Sodom and Gomorrah!” he barked all the way back to his nest-palace. Now, on top of everything else, there was a new dimension, on their very plane of existence, one his ancestors had utterly failed to seize the rights to!

He needed a break.

“What tires you, sir?” interrogated Freddie, seeing his master grungle into the nest-mansion.

“AltechTM! My beautiful, glorious, AltechTM! Adrift in the mists! The mists of a new dimension, yet conquered!”

Freddie patted his master on the shoulder. “Worry your head not, sir. The fault is mine. A spider is a PREDATORY organism. You know how those are, too clever; think for themselves. And eight legs! Sooooo many moving parts!”

From a nearby lamp, the servant plucked a leathery brown object.

“This moth, however! Dull! Obedient! Only six legs! But those WINGS! Why, if one were large enough…”

“…A single flap could tear the fabric of possibility! Rockenbach!” Finished the master.

And the pongo-birds filled the sky once more.

.   .   .

The moth was finished in record time- two weeks!-, which was a very good thing too, because AltechTM was popping back into reality, like an eight legged weasel, tearing PONG CORP oxygen-factories to shreds, shattering PONG CORP ley lines, and stealing away the best of PONG CORP’s think-tanks.

For the first time in millennia, PONGCORP’S stock dropped in value, although the simians of the board (those that had not offed themselves, at least) tried desperately to keep the situation under wraps, to no avail. Many PONG CORP employees, in fact, had cast their lot with the spider, with cults popping up like mushrooms. Yet, as world shattering as this was to the simians of the board, all that Lucky Pong of the latter day Pongses, 6th Scion of PONG CORP, could fixate on was his precious new toy, one that would surely best the villainous spider.

Even as the Lucky Pong and the simians of the board crouched before the Pong’s giant creation, now dubbed the GODMOTHTM, PONG CORP was at war with the spider, dumping Spore-bombsTM by the bushel on it, but to no avail.

“GODMOTHTM!” commanded Lucky Pong, and the dim-witted behemoth opened its’ eyes.

“Am I not your master?” he asked, to which the moth said nothing.

“Well?! Flap your wings, brute! Open the unexplored realms of dream for us, so that we may deliver our glorious brand to the multiverse!”

The moth, of course, complied, and…

The world shook as all across the planet, rifts to realms of dreams, places that might be, and all worlds of possibility were ripped into the fabric of reality.

The GODMOTHTM, in its’ dimness, had opened all possible rifts at once, without consideration of the consequences, because it did not have the capacity to question its’ master.

Apes screamed as they fell into the sky, or from suddenly being turned into a billion sardines, or suffered some other crude fate too gruesome to mention here. And the things that came from these rifts! Some innocent, but others monstrous beyond comprehension. Beings made of stardust and music, capable on murder just by breathing, they flooded into the Earth, bringing the eldritch rules that governed their home worlds with them. In this way the Earth was razed. All the assets, earnings, holdings, yearnings and dreams of PONG CORP shushed out in a great gust of multiversal wind.

Such was the end of Lucky Pong of the latter day Pongses, 6th Scion of PONG CORP.

…But for Altech, it was only the beginning. While cross-reality tempests scarred the 3rd dimension, the great spider waited in the bowels of the 8th, carrying the sad remnants of PONGCORP’S best and brightest on her back. Remnants that included, by chance, Freddie, former Butler-Domo of PONG CORP.

For immeasurable time beyond time, the GODMOTHTM flapped its’ wings, but eventually, it tired. Hearing the silence of the moth from her hiding spot, Altech finally remerged. And from her back sprang the brilliant minds, servants, and living toilets PONG CORP had cast aside, to repopulate the world, as their savior, using her webs, repaired the borders between the worlds of reality, dream, and everything in between. Her task complete, the spider left to the outer dimensions, where even now she will share her gifts and knowledge with those she deems worthy. As for the moth, it came to rest deep beneath the Earth, in the ruins of the old laboratory where it had been manufactured. And to this day, slumbers there still.

[oselatra]

Vacationing? Don't just nap

Do yoga with a goat, or sharpen your knives, or learn to kayak.

A weekend away can be a time to nap and read, but it can also be a value-added vacation, one where you aren't at home, someone else is doing the cooking, and you're doing something you always wanted to do. Like downward dog with a baby goat on your back. Or kayaking. Beginning stone carving, anyone? Or being able to answer the question "Is that Penstemon cobea I see before me?"

Weekend workshops, where you can work in some learning with your off time, can be found all over Arkansas. Some include lodging, like Heifer Ranch. Others are for campers or day-trippers or just-marrieds who want to add a certain je ne sais quoi to their escape to their honeymoon in Eureka Springs.

Let's start there.

Eureka Springs School of the Arts Eureka Springs

For two decades, the Eureka Springs School of the Arts, now located on 55 acres northwest of Eureka off U.S. Highway 62, has been an arm of the arts scene that defines the quirky mountain town. It offers dozens of different workshops that run from one to five days year-round, including many weekend classes.

A taste of what you can get during an ESSA weekend: In October alone, two-day workshops in felting fibers, silver ring-making, tool sharpening, beginning blacksmithing and plein air watercolor painting were offered (plus a four-day workshop in enamel and fold-forming copper). In November and December, there will be classes in watercolor technique, watercolor greeting cards, beginning stone carving, ceramics and digital photography.

Some instructors, like metal artist Sarah Doremus of Deer Isle, Maine; cowboy boot-maker Lisa Sorrell of Guthrie, Okla.; and steel sculptor Victoria Patti of Arvada, Colo., travel to ESSA to teach. Others, of course, come from Eureka, such as woodworker Doug Stowe, who was a co-founder of ESSA and was named the 2009 Arkansas Living Treasure by the Arkansas Arts Council, and weaver and beader Eleanor Lux, another co-founder and Arkansas Living Treasure.

The myriad metalworking workshops — including beginning blacksmithing, welding and bladesmith classes — fill quickly. ESSA's woodshop, which includes three rooms, recently hosted a "rendezvous" for 48 woodworkers from across the nation, Faith Cleveland of ESSA said.

Cleveland said classes appeal to both career artists and people who just want to try their hand at basketmaking or calligraphy or stained glass or paper mache. She suggested that interested folks sign up early, though it's sometimes possible to get a seat on a day's notice for the impulsive vacationer; class size varies according to medium and instructor. Prices also vary according to medium, from (for example, from previous offerings) $75 for a Saturday tool sharpening class to $130 for a Saturday-Sunday watercolor class to $370 for a Friday-Sunday class in stone carving. You can sign up for classes online at www.essa-art.org; a 2019 course catalog is due out at the end of November.

Arkansas Craft School Mountain View

Everyone knows Mountain View is where you go to hear music, clog and buy little native plants, but it's also a good place to learn to throw pots, make beads, paint big and take advantage of other art classes at the Arkansas Craft School. The school's in a historic building right on the square, within walking distance of lodging (discounted for students), lunching and antiquing and is open year-round. Marketing Manager Aly Dearborn says the staff works with prospective students on customizing workshops as well as making its own schedule of offerings. "How we differentiate ourselves from the Folk Center is that our instructors are geared toward opening people's creative ideas, to make traditional art forms into contemporary pieces of art," Dearborn said. Weekend classes this fall have included an introductory course in glass bead-making with Sage and Tom Holland; digital photography; "Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain" for people who think they can't draw; bladesmithing; basket-weaving; and a dip into the culinary arts, with Dutch oven cooking with Phyllis "Cooking on the Wild Side" Speer. Dearborn, who came to Mountain View from California, said all sorts of things attract people to Mountain View — the beauty of the Ozarks, fishing in the White River, etc. For her it was the feeling of going backward in time. When she arrived, she said, "I wondered if people were in costume or actually dressed that way. It's a very, very interesting place."

Come as you are; classes run $150 to $350 depending on the course and the materials. Learn more at arkansascraftschool.org.

Arkansas Canoe Club

Two weekends out of the year the Arkansas Canoe Club rents out riverside campgrounds and offers classes in kayaking and canoeing, taught by volunteers who love to paddle and want to show others how to be safe on the water.

The School of Whitewater Paddling, which was called Canoe School in the days before kayaking became king, is the first class of the year; it's held over a weekend in May. The campground at Turner Bend on the Mulberry River (off the Pig Trail, aka state Highway 23) is reserved for students and instructors. Luke Coop, Canoe Club president, said this is a class for folks to learn "the basic skills you need to run a river safely" — strokes, how to read a river, how to catch an eddy in and peel out of it again, how to paddle upstream without fighting the current. Instruction starts Friday night with a talk from the instructor, then it's on to the tamer Little Mulberry or a flat section of the Mulberry on Saturday to start. Students should bring their kayaks, solo canoes or tandem canoes, though the Canoe Club can provide them; Coop said there is also a standup paddleboard class. Coop said new technologies that have made solo canoes "shorter and more playful" have led to a resurgence in canoe popularity.

Though the school is in May, Coop said the weekends can be cold. He remembers one with snow and sleet. Unlikely, but be prepared. Saturday wraps up with a fish fry and live music.

The School of River Paddling is the second week in June on the Spring River. Students camp at the Riverside Resort 11 miles north of Hardy, off U.S. Highway 63. Like the paddling school, lessons are on basic skills; they begin on a lake at Mammoth Spring State Park. The Spring River is not as challenging as the Mulberry, with Class 1 and Class 2 runs, and participants may bring recreational boats not made for white water, such as sit-on-top kayaks.

Registration for schools begins in early March. To take a class, you must be a Canoe Club member ($25 for a family of four). Schools are $80, and include camping fees. Fees go to the Canoe Club's conservation fund and to the purchase of river gauges.

Registration links, detailed class information and requirements and river levels can be found at arkansascanoeclub.com.

Arkansas Native Plant Society

You may have checked off all 415 bird species on the Arkansas State Bird List. Or the 102 (or so) on the dragonfly list. But, unless your name is Theo Witsell*, it's unlikely you'll ever be able to claim you've seen all the native plants.

The Arkansas Native Plant Society, however, can make sure you see lots of them, thank to its field trips organized throughout the year and at its annual meeting.

To familiarize yourself with the Native Plant Society, go to anps.org and click on the link to its newsletter, Claytonia. First question: What is Claytonia when it's not a newsletter? Why, it's those little white flowers that are the first to spring up in your lawn in spring, and which you might call spring beauties. Already you have learned the name of a plant, which means when you see the little flower you will really see it (because the eyes can't see what the mind doesn't know).

What better way to see something rare in June than to accompany the society on a jaunt to learn about glades? That's what the society did earlier this year, when folks joined Ozark glade expert Joan Reynolds on a trip to Devil's Eyebrow Natural Area in Benton County and the North Dam Site Park near the dam on Beaver Lake in Carroll County. Glades are special places, thanks to their geology, and the day-trippers learned about endemic Arkansas bedstraw, daisy fleabane, hairy wild petunias, purple-flowering Ozark calamint, Arkansas beardtongue, Ashe junipers and such. Even the names are intriguing, so imagine the appeal of seeing these special Arkansas plants growing happily in the wild. The online Claytonia newsletter outlines upcoming trips, such as the Nov. 2-4 fall meeting at the Harmony Mountain Retreat on Smith Mountain in Newton County, which includes hiking in Arkansas's wildest county; and Saturday winter tree ID trips — you've always wanted to be able to ID a tree when it doesn't have its leaves on, you know you have — Dec. 8 on Kessler Mountain in Fayetteville and Feb. 16 at Smith Creek Preserve in Newton County.

*Theo Witsell is an ecologist with the Arkansas Natural Heritage Commission and has an encyclopedic knowledge of the state's native plants.

Rick's Dive 'n' Travel Center

Little Rock, Hot Springs, destinations abroad

Before you can swim with the fishes — in a good way — you've got to learn how to breathe underwater. You can do just that over a weekend with the instructors of Rick's Dive Shop.

You'll start out, however, on weekdays in Rick's pool at 2323 N. Poplar St. in North Little Rock (though there are special, accelerated classes for out-of-towners one Friday and one Saturday in the year). The weekend fun comes in at Lake Ouachita State Park, where Rick's teaches two-day open-water dives on Saturdays and Sundays. Folks stay at Mountain Pine or Hot Springs Village or even camp, and kids as young as 10 can participate with parents; certification is to 60 feet. Advanced weekend courses include night dives, search and recovery, and some underwater navigation. Weekend classes are limited to 16 divers; two instructors handle eight divers each, but only four are in the water at a time for safety's sake. Rick's provides regulators and tanks, but recommends would-be-water-world explorers bring their own mask, snorkel and fins. Then, once you've earned your flippers, you can accompany Rick's divers to places like Cozumel and Little Cayman Island in the Caribbean. Classes cost $475, which includes classes, pool and open water dives; a fall special reduces the price to $400. Find out about other offerings at ricksdivecenter.com.

Dave's Retreats Perryville

When Dave Lowe retired to Perryville, he decided to volunteer at the Heifer Ranch of Heifer International. One way he helps Heifer is to offer weekend retreats so that the lodge at the ranch can produce income even when Heifer doesn't have events scheduled. Here's what he's learned attracts people to Heifer: quilting and yoga with goats. Hence the thrice-yearly quilter retreats, where quilt-makers gather to work on their creations at personal workstations in a roomy workplace with cutting tables. The quilting retreats include two nights lodging, seven meals in the lodge's dining hall and 24-hour access to the quilting area for folks who like to stitch all night. Coming up: The "Winter's Eve" retreat Nov. 30-Dec. 2, "Lambs-a-poppin' " April 5-7, 2019, which coincides with the birthing of lambs at the ranch; and "Spring Fling," which is also a scrapbooking retreat, May 17-19, 2019. The retreats cost $195 (or come Thursday for an extra $60). The yoga retreats, taught by yoga instructors from Arkansas and Missouri, aren't all asanas: They include classes in meditation, cheesemaking, essential oils, massage and more. The "Goatalicious" session, April 26-28, 2019, will include two slow vinyasa sessions with the baby goats, who'll nibble your hair while you're in child's pose, along with other yoga classes. "Goatastic," May 3-5, 2019, comes with baby goats and gamboling lambs; as does "Goat-A-Rama," May 31-June 2. Yoga retreats are $275 and include two nights in the lodge and six meals (vegetarian and gluten-free are always available in the dining hall, which Lowe promises serves delicious food). There are extras — massages for $40, green tea meditation, goat walking, animal admiring and shopping in the Heifer International Shop. Some folks just come for the weekend to be at the Ouachita Mountain foothills Ranch with the goats, lambs and shoats. Bedrooms may be shared or private. To find out more, go to davesretreats.com. 

Vacationing? Don't just nap

[ntrending]

The weirdest things we learned this week: art made from human skin, solving a 17th-century thought experiment, and detachable sex organs

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The weirdest things we learned this week: art made from human skin, solving a 17th-century thought experiment, and detachable sex organs

What’s the weirdest thing you learned this week? Well, whatever it is, we promise you’ll have an even weirder answer if you listen to PopSci’s newest podcast. The Weirdest Thing I Learned This Week hits iTunes, Soundcloud, Stitcher, PocketCasts, and basically everywhere else you listen to podcasts every Wednesday morning. It’s your new favorite source for the strangest science-adjacent facts, figures, and Wikipedia spirals the editors of Popular Science can muster.

Fact: You can cover your walls in artwork made of human skin

By Stan Horaczek, write-up by Sara Chodosh

Our crossover guest from Last Week in Tech is out on vacation at the time of this posting, which means this week I (Sara) am filling in both as Rachel AND Stan in some form. Soon this podcast will just be me whispering upsetting animal sex facts into a single microphone.

Anyway, this week Stan came on the pod to share some wild information about how you—yes, you!—can get your tattoos preserved after you die. And yeah, they do it exactly in the way you’d picture. Listen to the episode for more, and then once you’re done and you’re thinking “okay, but then I’m still putting my dead skin on display in some family member’s house. Surely they won’t want that,” go click on this Vice article about Charles Hamm, the founder of the National Association for the Preservation of Skin Art. I found it while Googling around, trying desperately to understand why in the world you’d be okay having bits of human skin on your mantle, and this article actually helped.

Hamm talks about how meaningful some of his tattoos are and explains why his family members want to keep those bits of him after he’s gone. I ended up thinking that this is actually a beautiful thing. Maybe these tattoo fans are just more mature than most of us and aren’t squeamish about death. Maybe we should all strive to be a person who’s okay sticking their dead skin on their son’s mantle. Maybe we’re the weird ones.

(Or maybe, like Stan, some of us are just embarrassed at the thought of having our terrible tattoos displayed in perpetuity.)

Fact: Researchers recently found the answer to a seemingly impossible old thought experiment

By Sara Chodosh

“Suppose a man born blind, and now adult, and taught by his touch to distinguish between a cube and a sphere [be] made to see: [could he now] by his sight, before he touched them . . . distinguish and tell which was the globe and which the cube?”

That’s neurologist and writer Oliver Sacks’ rephrasing of Molyneux’s problem, not mine, but I came across it while researching the phenomenon of blind people having their sight restored. I just could not get my head around the idea that you could look at a sphere and a cube and not intuitively understand what those would feel like, and vice versa. I think this is a thing that’s been so cemented in my brain for so long that I simply cannot comprehend what it would be like to think differently, but the fact is that if you’re born blind you of course don’t approach the world in a visual way. You would never have had any reason to try to visualize what an object looks like, because that’s not how you think about things—you’ve literally never visualized anything.

I get a little more into the details of the experiments that ultimately tested Molyneux’s problem in the pod, but the most interesting fact that I found (which I wound up forgetting to share) is this: people who are born blind don’t move their eyes during REM sleep. In case you don’t know, REM stands for “rapid eye movement,” because people as a general group characteristically move their eyes around during that sleep stage. The fact that blind people don’t do this, but otherwise seem to experience REM sleep normally, suggests that perhaps the only reason we move our eyes is because we’re re-experiencing visual inputs in our dreams. A few blind people contributed to online forums like Quora about this issue and noted that their dreams aren’t generally visual—they can intuit that they’re in a space and describe the setting, but they don’t really see it. They experience it. It’s a great reminder not to assume everyone lives in the same world you do.

Fact: Some animals amputate their sex organs while they’re gettin’ it on

By Anna Brooks

More than 200 animals are known to self-amputate limbs to escape danger, but only a rare few will sacrifice their penises. Of course, the big question here is: whhhhyyyyyyy?

For some creepy creatures, it’s just part of sex. Enter, the golden silk orb weaver spider. Known for the incredible—and terrifying—capacity to consume birds and snakes, male orb weavers will also snap off their “penises” mid-sex, as scientist Zachary Emberts explained to me (in perhaps too much detail). Spiders don’t actually have penises; they secrete sperm out of their abdomens onto their webs, and then scoop it up with their pedipalps. If you look closely at a spider (which at least with these species, I do not recommend), pedipalps are the little extra set of “hands” located under a spider’s jaw-area. To copulate, the male will insert his sperm-soaked pedipalps into the female spider, and then… snap them off. Emberts explained that the amputated organs act as what’s called a copulatory plug, which prevents sperm from escaping and also wards off other spindly suitors.

Of course, we expect horrifying behavior like this from spiders, but sea slugs? Yes, some of our slimy underwater friends—like the Chromodoris reticulata—appear to have no use for their genitals after sex, either. Most sea slugs are hermaphrodites, and can impregnate each other simultaneously—they may be the most efficient procreators. Researchers in Japan noticed that after the deed was done, the sea slugs would drag their penises around with them for a bit, and then “dispose” of them. Again, the question is: whhhyyyyyy? On closer inspection, scientists found the ends of the sea slugs’ members were dotted with small, backwards spikes tangled with sperm. Since sea slug “vaginas” have two separate sperm storage areas, scientists suggested that the barbs on the penises rake out any competitors’ sperm. After that’s done the penis can’t be used again, and like a disposable needle, it’s safely discarded of. But don’t worry: these sea slugs have two backup penises ready and waiting.

If you like The Weirdest Thing I Learned This Week, please subscribe, rate, and review us on iTunes. You can also join in the weirdness in our Facebook group and bedeck yourself in weirdo merchandise from our Threadless shop.

Written By Sara Chodosh, Anna Brooks, Stan Horaczek