#space himbo

[nicolethered]

I combined two posts and I thought I saw someone say Din is back on his himbo grindset and you know what, he actually he kinda is.

[shreddedparchment]

I don't think y'all understand....I LITERALLY love him. 🥺🥵😔

[welikethoseoddslove]

Adventure (A Din x reader story pt.3)

Warnings: Mild Language, physical contact (non-violent), mentions of killing, aIso the gif isn't mine

Pairing: Mando x reader (the 18+ content starts later, this is, again just a real long introduction between you two...we'll get to the spicy stuff soon I promise)

Previous Chapter Summary: Dead set on stopping any bounty hunter from harming the Child, you're faced with ending up having to fight the Mandalorian. A task you are dreading. But in the mean time, you can't let Kuiil know your secret plan and must help him train the warrior to ride a blurrg.

“A bounty hunter” you confirm, looking over at him. He nods. You hoped he couldn’t hear the shake in your voice. How were you going to stop this one?

“Thank you” the voice that came from under the helmet was deep, earthy. You had to take a second to process how sincere that statement sounded.

You were about to get him as far from this place as possible, give him some bad directions or something, but Kuiil, worried by the sounds of the Blurrg fight, was right on your tail.

He saw the blinking tracking fob you were still holding and looked down at the Mandalorian.

“We will help you.”

The bounty hunter looked up at him, about to stand in protest, but Kuiil shut that notion down with his simple yet, somehow always effective, “I have spoken”

You smirked remembering the first time you had heard him say that. In a situation not too dissimilar to this. Oh god…but you were no Mandalorian. This legendary thing before you…he was supposed to be the best of the best. The most resilient, well equipped fighters in the land. How were you supposed to stop him? This would be a hard fight. This could be a deadly fight. Oh Maker, what had you gotten yourself into?

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by Kuiil gesturing towards you.

“I’m sorry?” you asked, realizing you had completely zoned out.

“I said he will ride with you.” He explained.

“Um. What?” you blurted out. Blurrgs were definitely not made to accommodate a second rider…let alone one as…you glanced down at the armored man…let alone one as broad as that.

“It will be a short ride. And there are near invisible ravine openings in the land here that only the blurrgs raised in this valley can avoid. It is like the map is etched in their mind.” He explained to the bounty hunter, sounding quite proud of his animals. Normally you would have smiled quietly at this, finding the old man sweet. At this point he felt like a grandfather to you.

But you couldn’t focus on that because the bounty hunter had hopped on behind you and to balance had to press his firm chest-plate up against your back. “You better hold on, Mandalorian,” you said gruffly, really not loving this situation. You weren’t ready for this. You had to train more, get back into the swing of things. Oh what were you on about? Even at your best, you would have never been able to beat a Mandalorian. You were going to die. You were straight up just…going to die. Maker. Shit.

You really hoped he didn’t have some mind-reading tech programmed into that helmet of his. Oh but he definitely has a pulse sensor.

Realizing this, you focused on your breathing. Slow intakes of breath cooled you down. You tried to put your frantic thoughts out of your mind and focus on…something real. Something tangible. The familiar hopping of the blurrg, and the rough rope reins in your hands, and the strong arms around your waist-

Wait…what?

You had been so caught up in your thoughts you hadn’t noticed when the bounty hunter, obeying your command, had wrapped his arms fully around you. You weren’t small by any means, with a decent build and muscular core, but his armored forearms dwarfed your waist…

Though you were moderately successful at keeping your heartrate down for the rest of the ride back to the farm, you couldn’t help but let a blush creep onto your cheeks whenever the bounty hunter would tighten his arms around you at a particularly high jump or how at the landing he would kind of jostle into you and mutter something like a sorry as his leather-clad fingers dug into you.

As you all dismounted in front of the farm-house Kuiil commented bluntly on the Mandalorian’s shaky-looking riding skills. He said we would have to train him before he would be able to reach the encampment.

It was hilarious to watch. Seeing the Mandalorian being thrown from the blurrg time and again. You leaned your elbows on the fence, giggling a bit when he would jump at the charging animal. You thought he didn’t hear you but on maybe the fourth time you laughed at him his helmet turned and made…well not eye contact exactly, but you could tell he was staring pointedly.

You put your hands up in protest. “I’m sorry! But it’s a little funny.” You say through a laugh. He walked over to you. Oh, shit, did you overstep? “I don’t have time for this. Do you have a Landspeeder or a Speeder bike I could hire?” he says, annoyed. He’s standing face to face with you now, only the bar of the fence between you. You realize just how tall he is. He looks down at you and tilts his helmet to the side, you realize you hadn’t answered him yet.

“No. We don’t, sorry. Come on now, you’re a Mandalorian! Your ancestors rode the great Mythosaur. I’m sure you can handle this foal.”

It was only after saying that up to the dark visor of the helmet that you realized how in awe you sounded.

I mean why shouldn’t you be? All those stories when you were a kid? How could you not feel…just a bit like you were meeting a fairytale hero…Oh shut up, you thought to yourself, don’t go all soft for the guy who’s gonna kill you in a few hours.

Go on babe, read the next chapter.

[kn96artworks]

Orb rewatch

currently 9 eps in

all i can say is that gai has the same number of working braincells as ryuga

[pigeonplaysgod]

Merlot has been Very Busy in medical school, so he hasn't been able to spend much time with his family, but Mom stopped by for a visit!

[asleepinawell]

A miniature giant space hamster. Fear not, you will learn the difference in time.

[headcanonsandmore]

Watching modern Doctor Who is like "The Doctor is such a complicated and dynamic character and their actions are really exciting to behold, with that complex personality impacting on the plot in so many ways!"

And watching classic Doctor Who is like "hehe silly cricket man fell over again 🤭".

[genericpuff]

because let's be real, saichi would wear this and rock it too lmaooo

[autisticlancemcclain]

When Keith nonchalantly announces he’d found an apartment twenty minutes away and is moving out, Shiro’s heart drops to his feet. He’s so shocked that he nearly drops the spoon he’s using to feed Hana, barely managing to catch it and smearing mashed carrots on her cheeks instead.

Oops. Sorry, kiddo.

His first thought, of course, is oh, shit. Keith thinks he’s being replaced with the baby. He’s moving away because he feels unloved. I am a horrible brother slash father. What have I done.

Luckily, he manages to not say that embarrassing shit out loud, choking out instead a forced “sounds awesome, buddy!” and trying not to cry.

Yeah, that doesn’t go well. Keith is taking his time moving out, taking a few boxes at a time over several days so he doesn’t have to pay for a mover, enlisting Adam’s help to find some decent Craigslist furniture. Shiro has to lock himself in the bathroom no less than nineteen times to cry about it.

It was no big shocker that Adam gets real tired of that real quickly. Shiro was not the only one all mopey, apparently, as evidenced when Adam stomps down the stairs after putting Hana down for a nap, dragging Keith by the ear, and shoving both of them into the kitchen with a set jaw and his patented Glare of Judgement.

“Both of you are so, so stupid,” he says, which is not an uncommon occurrence but does make both of them protest at the exact same time. Adam holds up a hand, silencing them.

“Shut up. Listen to me. Both of you have been moping around my house —”

“Our house,” Shiro mutters petulantly, which does him approximately zero favours.

“— my house for days, crying to me about oh, Adam, he’s disappointed in me, he’s mad at me, what if I made a huge mistake, blah blah blah.” His arms migrate from crossed over his chest to resting sharply at his hips, and his glasses have slid down his nose.

Keith and Shiro share a fleeting, panicked glance. Adam looks ready to cook them both in a stew and feed them to the hungry, as he often says when he’s on his last nerve.

“I am tired of this miscommunication nonsense. I am going to cook you both into stew and feed you to the hungry if you don’t use your words like grownups,” he snaps.

Case in point.

“Am I understood?”

“Yes, Adam,” they both say hastily.

Adam huffs. “Good. I am going to go nap with Hana. When I wake up, I better see smiles and excitement, or else. Goodbye.”

With that he stalks off, not glancing back even for a second, completely confident that they would be staying exactly where they were and doing exactly what he asked.

That confidence is not misplaced. Shiro got very, very lucky, in that he married a man who could hype him up just as fast as he could whoop his ass into shape with one look.

It is, if Shiro is being entirely honest, a little bit hot.

“Ew,” Keith complains, even though Shiro is sure he hadn’t spoken aloud.

“You don’t need to say it out loud. I’ve been living with you for twenty fuckin’ years, man. You think I don’t know what it looks like when you’re being a simp?”

“Oh, shut up, you little snot,” Shiro says, snapping forward quick as a whip and securing his brother in a headlock.

“Twenty year old big shot, huh?” he teases. “Big man, now?”

Keith thrashes in his hold, raking his nails down Shiro’s arm, but the little dumbass has seemingly forgotten that Shiro has also spent twenty years with him, and knows damn well to accost Keith with his prosthetic limb only lest he want to lose his other arm to Keith’s freakishly sharp teeth.

“Let go of me, you goober!” Keith shouts.

Shiro hums. “No. Also, shut up. You’re going to wake the baby.”

Keith growls, and then before Shiro can prepare himself he’a airborne, flipped right over Keith’s head, narrowly missing the counter as he slams down on the hard kitchen tiles.

The air whooshes out of him with a groan. He suddenly very much feels every single one of his thirty-eight years.

“Take that, old man,” Keith taunts, grinning brightly. “I win.”

Shiro pushes himself into a sitting position with a wheeze, glaring playfully across the kitchen at his dumbass little brother, who mirrors him, leaning against the dishwasher.

“You got lucky, you brat. Try me again in the living room and I’ll knock you flat.”

Keith scoffs, but says nothing further, rolling his eyes playfully as he catches his breath. Shiro takes the time to carefully observe him, not giving a shit how weird that is. He’s been raising this kid for twenty years, dammit. And yet somehow it shocks him, every time he looks, to see stubble shadowing the edges of the kid’s jaw, the broad set of his shoulders and the confident slouch of his back, his calloused hands and easy way he holds himself. A proper man, now. Not the scrawny kid who stumbled into Shiro’s life angry and confused after the death of their father, barely four years old and already convinced the world was garbage. Sometimes Shiro wakes up to Hana’s crying at night and walks right to Keith’s room before stopping abruptly in the hallway, remembering that his kid isn’t so much of a kid anymore.

“You’re lookin’ at me weird,” Keith says.

“You’re weird-lookin’,” Shiro shoots back immediately. It startles a laugh out of Keith, wheezy and kind of ugly.

Shiro swallows the sudden lump in his throat.

“What’s going on, old man?” Keith tries again. His voice is much softer this time. “You’ve been avoiding me. I thought I goofed something; I’ve been nagging Adam about it. What’d I do?”

“I’m not mad at you,” Shiro rushes to assure. It does nothing to smooth the crease between Keith’s eyebrows.

“Sure feels like it.”

Shiro sighs, slumping forward a little. He takes the time to look carefully at Keith again, trying to commit his face further to his memory, separate it from that scared kid’s.

“You will always be my little kid,” he says finally. He smiles as Keith protests immediately. “I know you’re grown, believe me. You think you could’ve slammed me like that ten years ago?”

Keith huffs. “I could’ve gotten close.”

“Not on your life, boogerbrain. You were a shrimp up until two years ago.”

“Whatever,” Keith mutters, scowling.

“Hey.” Shiro nudges him with his foot. “Look at me.”

Keith does.

“I know that’s the last thing any grown kid wants to hear. You’re still my baby boy. I know you’re not, not really. But to me —” his breath hitches, and he can feel his eyes start to well up. “Kiddo, every time you ask me for something it’s the same voice that came panicked into my room after a nightmare. Every time you smile at me I remember the year you lost six teeth in a month and grinned as often as you could so everyone knew it. I know you’re a big boy, an adult. But you will never not be my kid, Keith. You may not be my son, but you’re my boy. You always will be. And I just worry that you don’t know —”

He’s interrupted by Keith’s face crumpling, and then as fast as he flipped Shiro earlier he’s rushing forward and collapsing in his arms, all two hundred some pounds of him gathered in Shiro’s lap like he’s ten instead of twenty.

“I love you, Dad,” he wails. He shoves his face in Shiro’s neck and grips hard onto his shirt; loud, heaving sobs wracking his frame. Shiro immediately starts to cry as well, gripping his kid’s back and squeezing tightly, rocking them back and forth. Keith rarely calls him Dad; he’s always been Shiro, except when he’s emotional and hurting and he needs Shiro to be a dad right then, as much as he needs him to be a big brother.

“I love you too, kiddo,” he chokes out. He presses a kiss to Keith’s messy hair. “So much. To the moon and back, okay? I just don’t want you to move out because you think I’m replacing you with Hana. She’s my kid, absolutely, but you are too, okay? You always will be.”

Keith sniffles. “I know. I never doubted.”

The words are like a balm to Shiro’s heart, soothing the ache and the worry that’s been plaguing him for weeks.

“Oh, thank God.”

Keith pulls away, wiping his tears and snot with his sleeve.

God, he’s so gross. Shiro loves him to pieces.

“Is that why you’ve been so weird?” he asks. “You think I’m moving out because of Hana? I love Hana. I would sell both your kidneys on the black market for that kid.”

“Really feeling the love,” Shiro says drily, but in truth the joke really does make Shiro feel the love. That’s excellent. That’s a million times better than what all the parenting books told him to expect.

Keith has no trouble hearing the glee peeking through Shiro’s sarcasm. It makes him smirk.

“Why are you moving out then, kiddo?” Shiro asks, flicking him on the forehead to send the smirk away. “You’ve still got two years left of school.”

“I know. But I’ve been saving for years, Shiro. I can afford it so long as I keep working on the weekends and work longer hours in the summer. Plus —” he goes curiously red. “I, uh, need my own space. My car isn’t going to cut it. You remember last time you and Adam went out on a date, and you came home early?”

Shiro feels a slow grin spread across his face. He knows exactly where this is going.

“I do.”

“Uh, I also took that opportunity to go on a…date, that had to be relocated to my car before you two came home, and I ended up braining myself on the roof halfway through. Kind of killed the mood.”

Shiro manages, quite graciously in his opinion, to keep silent for thirty whole seconds, before bursting into laughter so strong he goes silent, lungs shaking with the effort.

“You — your head —”

“Oh, fuck off,” Keith says hotly. “I’m never telling you anything again.”

“C’mere, you dork,” Shiro says, pulling a reluctant Keith under his arm and pressing another kiss to the side of his head. “Keep telling me things. Even when you move out. I want to hear about your life, even when it’s embarrassing.”

“Especially when it’s embarrassing, you mean.”

“Mhm. ‘Course. That’s the best part.”

———

It’s a learning curve, that’s for certain. A melancholy one, too, learning to adjust to an absence of someone you’ve been living with for two decades. Shiro is still surprised to do the laundry and not find balled up, nasty gym socks in the hamper that he has to make Keith un-crumple so they can wash properly.

He cries for twenty minutes one day, concerned that Keith is doing his laundry incorrectly. Adam laughs himself hoarse, videoing Shiro’s breakdown with shaky hands and sending it to Keith immediately.

Traitor.

But it’s not like Keith’s suddenly a stranger. He regularly comes over when he doesn’t feel like cooking, and as much as Adam grumbles, he misses Keith as much as Shiro does and makes him a giant meal every time. Keith also comes over purely to ignore Shiro and Adam to hang out with Hana, and he thinks he’s being all annoying and bothersome to spite them, but truly every time is a wonderful opportunity for Adam and Shiro to nap.

…Among other things.

But the highlight of Keith learning to live on his own, by far, are the occasional, how-do-you-adult texts he sends Shiro at random times.

from: brat child

takashi, my most beloved brother slash father big hero six style.

Shiro snorts, switching Hana to one arm so he can use the other to type.

to: brat child

Bringing up that movie will not make me more inclined to help you.

from: brat child

false actually every time i mention that movie you become twelve percent easier to manipulate

to: brat child

I am getting less and less inclined to humour you every minute.

from: brat child

yeesh okay

The typing dots go on for several minutes, appearing and disappearing as Keith puzzles out what he wants to say.

from: brat child

okay so usually i would call adam about this because he’s a better adult than u no offense. but i’m not really in the mood to talk for an hour so ur my next best bet

to: brat child

How did you just make your case worse? I’m honestly impressed.

from: brat child

ANYWAY.

from: brat child

how often do u clean the oven?? i don’t remember u doing it very often but obviously it has to be done frequently.

Hana makes a funny noise, clapping her hands together.

“You’re right,” he tells her sagely. “Your brother is strange.”

to: brat child

Keith, I almost never clean my oven.

from: brat child

seriously?? i’m cleaning this bitch every time i use it

to: brat child

…Why?

from: brat child

well i don’t want the bottom to just be all disgusting

from: brat child

wouldn’t all the blood and grease and shit rot?? or burn?? how is that not a food safety hazard??

Shiro furrows his brow. What in the shit is this kid talking about?

to: brat child

Are you talking about your oven or the baking sheet?

from: brat child

baking sheet??

Oh. Oh yes.

from: brat child

my oven has metal grills on the inside

from: brat child

it sears the food nicely but it’s such a pain in the ass to clean

Shiro laughs out loud, unable to control himself, and Hana quickly joins him, happy to share in the laughter.

“That’s right,” he coos. “Your brother is a dumbass! Luckily for you, you don’t have the same genes, hm? No, you’re a smart girl.”

to: brat child

Let me get this right. You’re putting the meat directly on the grills to cook, right?

Keith’s response comes immediately.

from: brat child

yeah to cook

Shiro snickers again to himself. What a dumbass.

to: brat child

Hold on, I’m tweeting this.

Shiro doesn’t fully get why his twitter account is so big. He certainly didn’t intend for it. He was just dicking around online one day, decided to make a funny post of something he saw Adam doing with Hana. He will never understand how he got so viral so quickly, but Keith hates it, which makes it inherently hilarious.

from: brat child

?

from: brat child

what about that was tweet worthy

Shiro has barely hit ‘post’ on the screenshot before the notifications come pouring in. He figured this one would get a good laugh.

to: brat child

Dumbass. You’re supposed to get a thin metal pan to cook the food on, so you can clean the pan and keep your oven clean.

from: brat child

WHAT

from: brat child

WHY DOES NO ONE TELL ME ANYTHING

Shiro shakes his head, snorting. God, he can’t wait for more of this. Being a parent is great.

“Isn’t it, Hana?”

She gurgles happily in response.

———

Shiro doesn’t hear a lot about Keith’s love life. He hears about his friends, sure — dear Lord does he ever worry about the kind of shit his dumbass kid and Matt’s dumbass sister get into — and lots of complaining about school.

But dating life?

Nope. Nada. Zilch.

(He suspects Adam gets this information, if only because he looks infuriatingly smug whenever Shiro sulks about it. Ugh, he is so lucky that Shiro is attracted to him even when he’s being a prick.)

(Arguably, possibly, a little more attracted.)

(Shiro does not have a thing for bossy, arrogant men who tell him what to do. He does not.)

One day, though, Shiro gets a text that changes everything.

from: oven boy

so i’ve found the love of my life, which is kind of cool.

Shiro calls that brat child immediately, obviously.

“Tell me everything,” Shiro demands, not bothering with pleasantries. That’s what caller I.D. is for.

“He’s so beautiful,” Keith sighs. “The prettiest brown eyes I’ve ever seen in my life, holy shit. And he’s so fucking smart. Apparently he’s a friend of a friend of Pidge’s. She didn’t set it up or anything, but she recognised him when we went to the bar last night —”

“Both of you are underage,” Shiro says, as if he and Matt did not have fake I.D.’s by age sixteen.

(To get a fishing license for a prank of theirs, but still.)

Keith ignores him. “—and we started talking and holy shit, Shiro. Never in my life have I wanted to participate in a conversation so badly. We talked for five fucking hours.”

Shiro whistles. That’s a long-ass time for anyone, but Keith especially.

“Damn. This boy must be something special, huh?”

Keith sighs dreamily again, which is quite possibly the best sound Shiro has ever heard. He can’t wait to tell Adam.

“He really is. I can’t wait until I finally figure out his number.”

Aaannnnd there we go. Shiro knew this sounded to normal to be true.

“…Pardon?”

“Oh, shit, yeah. Context.”

“That would be useful, yes.”

“It’s easier if I show you. Hang up, I’ll send you a picture.”

“Alright,” Shiro says hesitatingly. He has barley pressed the red ‘end call’ button before his phone buzzes with an incoming text.

from: oven boy

okay so i got most of it

to: oven boy

How the hell do you get ‘most’ of a number?

A picture pops up, of what’s very obviously a bar napkin, scrawled on with blue glitter pen. It reads: ‘Call me! 512 - 3*1 - 2*04. —Lance. P.S. — trust me, I’m worth it ;)”

Shiro is, frankly, at a loss for words.

to: oven boy

I can confidently say I’ve never seen anything like that before. What’s your plan?

Instead of an explanation, another picture buzzes in. This one is Keith’s familiar messy scrawl, and dozens of numbers written out on lined paper, each one with a different digit for the ones the mysterious Lance had omitted. Several of the numbers are crossed out.

His phone rings again, and he picks up hastily.

“Are you seriously trying every possible number you can?”

He can picture Keith’s shrug through the phone. “Like I said. He’s my soulmate.”

Shiro hums thoughtfully. “You sure he actually wants you to call him? Wouldn’t he just give you his number?”

“I’m sure,” Keith says confidently. Then he chuckles sheepishly. “The chase might be on me, though. We were talking about mysteries and stuff, and I said that I could solve every mystery before the end of the documentary, easy.”

Shiro snorts. “Arrogant boy. Spending a lot of time with Adam, hm?”

“I mean, I really can solve the mysteries. Usually.”

“Mhm. And how far are you through your numbers list?”

A pause.

“Halfway,” Keith says, lying.

“Right,” Shiro says, shaking his head fondly. “I’m tweeting about this, too.”

———

Shiro’s not a big believer in fate. That’s more of Keith’s thing, really.

But when he gets a specific DM, a couple days after his tweet goes viral, he starts to think that maybe Keith’s fuckin’ right.

For once.

The DM is from someone named LoverboyLance, which piques Shiro’s interest immediately.

from: LoverboyLance

howdy!!!! ur probably not gonna see this BUT i’m lance from the tweet!!!

from: LoverboyLance

the one about ur brother lol

It, honestly, takes Shiro a few minutes to respond. He’s genuinely gobsmacked.

to: LoverboyLance

HOLY SHIT!!!!

He calls Keith immediately.

“I have some news for you.”

“Feel free to get to it,” Keith says drily. “I’m kind of busy.

Shiro sniffs. “Well, if you’re busy I guess I won’t bother you, then. I’ll tell twitter user LoverboyLance that you’re not interested in the DM i just got from him. I see how it is.”

“No no no no no, wait!” Keith yells, panicked. “I’m sorry! Come back! Please tell me everything!”

Shiro considers letting him stew for a while, but he’s honestly too excited.

“There’s not much to tell, but I got a DM confirming that Lance knows you’re looking for him.”

“Please beg him to give me his number! I lied about being halfway done!” Keith pleads.

“On it,” Shiro promises. He hangs up and gets right back to twitter.

to: LoverboyLance

I just talked to him!!! He said a couple days ago that he was halfway done which means he’s barely put a dent in it, the dork. What’s your number?

The response comes almost immediately.

from: LoverboyLance

someone isn’t as clever as he thinks lol

Shiro laughs out loud. “No, he is not.”

from: LoverboyLance

give me his number. i’m taking over this operation

Happily, Shiro does. He doesn’t hear anymore from Lance, but twenty minutes later, he gets one text from Keith:

from: oven boy

shiro i love u

from: oven boy

ur the best

Shiro smiles softly to himself, shaking his head.

to: oven boy

I love you too, kiddo.

Perhaps fate really does have some bearing.

———

based on this post

[marlynnofmany]

Scary Stories in Space

If you’ve ever wanted to experience the rapt attention of bodybuilder-shaped swamp monster/goldfish crosses, who are equal parts muscles, fins, and floaty silk clothes with absolutely zero interest in blinking, then I can’t speak highly enough of telling ghosts stories to a pair of Frillians.

That hadn’t been the plan; it just came up in conversation while we tidied the storage hold. Our ship was going to take on a lot of cargo soon. There were things on the floor that needing picking up, which was boring, so we passed the time with stories.

As it turns out, Frillians love ghost stories.

“Then what happened??” asked Blip when I paused for effect. She’d frozen in place holding a wrench and a heat sensor, wide-eyed in a cloud of fluttering silks and fins, all electric blue and bright red and deeply invested in my story. Her brother Blop was her mirror in aqua and lavender.

“Then,” I said, picking up a crowbar, “When he went to let her out of the car, he found a hook on the door handle!” I caught the crowbar on my hand dramatically.

“Ohhh!” they chorused with a gratifying flinch, for all the world like frat bros watching someone get hit in the nuts. “Near miss! Oh, wow!”

I grinned and put the crowbar in a cabinet while they rehashed the very simple story to each other. I’d already told them a few others, and I was going to run out of stories before they ran out of enthusiasm.

Blip asked, “What do you think they did when they found that?”

With a shudder like a bird fluffing feathers, Blop suggested, “Throw it as far away as possible? Run into the house?”

Blip nodded, fins still flared slightly. “Maybe both. Then call the authorities.”

I walked past to collect a stray cable. “I don’t know about the authorities where you’re from, but mine wouldn’t have been much help.”

The twins discussed this some more, then agreed that the best response would be to run screaming into the house and lock every door they could find. Only then did they remember that they were supposed to be cleaning, and resume putting stuff away.

After three seconds of silence, Blop asked, “Know any more?”

“Maybe,” I said. “Lemme think.” I shelved a box and looked around the room for inspiration. No ghosts hid in this storage hold, though it had been home to many an animal cargo. The reinforced clear pen was still empty, and had been for a while — our cargos were mostly boxes these days. The door to the hallway stood open, and I almost had a thought about some doorway-based haunting, but couldn’t pin it down. I moved to stack a few stale tubs of animal food while I thought.

Then my cat Telly walked in, recently free to roam the ship on a provisional basis, and I had an idea. The fact that Telly had made a beeline for Blip’s spare overcoat helped. She burrowed right under, sniffing out the shrimp sticks that were undoubtedly hidden in several pockets.

Neither Frillian noticed.

“There was one story,” I said, watching them both perk up like meerkats. Fishy, musclebound meerkats. “The legend of the Pants With Nobody Inside Them.”

“Pants With Nobody Inside Them?” they dutifully asked.

I tugged at my own pant leg. “People where I’m from wear a lot of clothes that are shaped to fit our bodies, and have the same silhouette when they’re empty. Just imagine how creepy and unsettling it must have been for the first person to venture into a dark forest at night, and see the shape of another human — but only the bottom half. Walking … steadily … towards them.” I took slow and deliberate strides toward the far side of the animal pen, drawing their gaze away from the shrimp stick excavation.

“That sounds terrifying,” Blip declared. “Did they run?”

“Oh, you bet they did!” I said, jogging slowly in place, then speeding up. “But the pants ran after.”

Blop squeaked in fear, muscly arms bent to bring his hands to his mouth.

They had no idea how hard I was working not to laugh. “That first person got away, and so did the next. But it kept happening, and the pants got faster each time. People started to worry about going outside, and wonder about their own clothes — they’d look at a pair of pants on the floor, and imagine it starting to get up on its own. Then OH JEEZ WHAT’S THAT?!” I pointed through the clear walls of the pen.

Both Frillians whirled and screamed at the sight of — as promised — an item of clothing moving around.

Telly bolted in panic, with one shrimp stick in her mouth and several others scattering in all directions. I heard someone down the hall yelp, though it was hard to make out over the Frillians screaming.

“WHAT WAS THAT?”

“WAS THAT AN ANIMAL?”

“WAIT, THAT WAS YOUR ANIMAL, WASN’T IT?”

“WHAT WAS IT DOING IN MY COAT??”

I leaned against a wall, laughing. I couldn’t hold it back any more. “Stealing your shrimp sticks,” I managed. “Sorry.”

After a little more yelling and hyperventilating, during which three other crew members came to see what the emergency was, they finally calmed down. The rest of the crew was waved away.

“So,” Blip said, clearly determined to speak evenly, “How does the story end?”

I was still grinning. “Somebody makes friends with the pants. They were chasing after people because they were lonely.”

“What!” Blip exclaimed, fins spread and eyes wide, which just made me burst into laughter again. Blop echoed her.

“It’s a children’s story,” I explained. “I think the pants wanted to dance with other people. Or they wanted someone to wear them; I honestly don’t remember the details. But they were lonely.”

Blop shook his head. “Lonely haunted clothing,” he said. “Your planet sure has some memorable ones.”

Blip picked up her coat at arm’s length, and I couldn’t tell if she was looking for damage or ghosts. “Maybe it was hungry,” she suggested.

“I’m sure many ghosts like shrimp sticks,” I said, picking one up from the floor. “I’ll bet we could think up a new story about that. Maybe they’re haunted by the ghosts of the shrimp, mad about being eaten?”

Their dismayed expressions told me that such a story might ruin their favorite snack for them.

“Or,” I said, turning on my heel, “We could think up a story about a haunted… stun gun! Maybe it keeps a ghostly copy of all the people it’s stunned. How do you think a story like that would work?”

To my delight, Blip and Blop proved just as interested in composing new stories as listening to old ones. The rest of the tidying session passed quickly.

I take no responsibility for the nightmares they inflicted on the rest of the crew.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come!

(And yes that’s a reference to the Dr Seuss story.)

[zoros-onigiri]

Not to be selfish and obsessive but my F/Os are mine and only mine. I’m their everything, their world, and they couldn’t imagine life without me

[tagedeszorns]

Squad is finished!

First squad of my Salamanders-journey.

No iconography, yet. Because I'm still debating if my frustration-tolerance is high enough for that.

Next up: Some Terminators. More Salamanders, of course. Firedrakes! (Tsu'gan was so proud ...)

I'm planning on some Word Bearers, too. But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

[veryintricaterituals]

If he's not going to space just to impress me then I don't want him

[sizzling-eggs]

okay but Nandor not even realizing he was jealous of Lazlo and guillermo hanging out, and was just like lazlo is jealous of me having a familliar like Guillermo so he’s trying to take him using his intelligence and being like “sorry what?” when guillermo pointed out if he was going to space just to impress him and having his little moment on the interview if he was doing it just to impresss guillermo and then realizing YES, YES HE IS is just so stupid and so himbo of him and we love him

[geesnemo]

Bridge night after watching Rocky Horror Picture Show

[girl-hwat]

what’s with all these villains calling jamie stupid— like what did he do to you??

he’s about to beat your ass, but that’s neither here nor there