Over 18, queer 3A, French, neurodivergent Mostly on tumblr to catch a break from the real world because it's tough. Impulsive reblogs at: sugar-brown-reblogs PP from: Issy (@_artizzy on instagram)
Yes, I will block you if you are against those. No, I don't care if it's censorship. Yes, I am here to have a good time so I keep political debate out of this space.
i think we should be ridiculing them more for this. you don't get to try and go all "queer website" when your staff likes to go on nuking sprees targeting the trans fem users
would be remiss not to mention that the rainbow notably straight up just removed the trans flag colors from it. like they’re gone. it’s the progress flag minus the trans flag colors.
ive mentioned this before but the main reason this is a CURSE and not a BLESSING is because bombarding your SYSTEM with that much fruit sugars and fibre all at ONCE will often create THE BAD TOILET EXPERIENCE
i don’t feel like debating that topic much farther bc truthfully if it comes down to “women will lose to men in every sport bc they don’t have as much testosterone!!!!!” my elite feminist response is honest to god “ok we will lose with honor as equals instead of having our own special Easy Mode Female category so we can win amongst ourselves” like i’m sorry i just can’t be persuaded. i’m a brick wall. i want co-ed sports
That's what I thought, because I suck at sports in general so each and every man in my class was better than me. I thought it was because I was born as a woman and I was bad at sports, so double suck at it.
Until I realized that some sports have no reason to be gendered! Like... archery? Riding? Shooting? Acrobatic Snowboarding?
And I was even more shocked to read that some women have more testosterone than some men! And some athletic women are stronger than some athletic men! Wtf?!
That's when I realized that the sport's system is archaïc asf. If we need to separate the population to maje competition more fun and fair, it shouldn't be based on gender! Like in combat sports - yeah still by gender - but also by weight! Why not in other sports? Like height in basket?
I am no expert in sports, but I know we have the technology to make more accurate levels than just "vagina on one side, penis on the other".
using violence to liberate people from sweatshops, unsafe mines, and grinding poverty isn't the same as using violence to impose those things on people. the idea that violence is morally repugnant regardless of context is a belief that every oppressor throughout history would love for the oppressed to hold
On this subject! I always considered myself as a pacifist who has enough trust in the fondations of our society to believe we can fix the system instead of burning ut to the ground and redo it completly. I don't like degradation during protests, I don't like singing how everyone hates the police, I don't like seeing other people having a harder or uncomfortable life because of my actions...
BUT! I am neither naive nor stupid. I see the news. I participate in protests. I see the state of the world and despite being very privileged compared to the majority of the world I understand that we need to do something.
And when the nice way doesn't work, when you only receive empty promises while they do whatever they want anyway, when you see people's lives being destroyed on the autel of whatever rotten problems which benefits the elite... You have to admit that the nice way isn't enough. The reasonnable way isn't enough because you fight against unreasonnable people. So, you have to accept that violence is sometimes the only answer, the only way.
Of course, I am not claiming we should escalate every conflict into blood baths every time! I am not saying the nice way is dumb or useless. I am still a pacifist at heart, but my empathy is bigger than my own satisfaction at being pacifist. Where you put the limit of this violence is up to you, it's hard to do but it's necessary.
And even if you can't being violent like me, can't resolve yourself to break and hit and cause chaos, it doesn't mean you can't help! People who fights need support. They need people in the back to help with patching them up, to communicate their message, to have their back when they fall.
When the elite doesn't listen pacifists, the fighters have to stand up. And the fighters need pacifists to back them up.
When you manage a fabric store in a midwest town, you see this played out in real time. Young women coming in during that first year of marriage - when their husbands go to dental college - pert, bubbling with creative plans. Then, four years on, you help them shift to the reality of balancing budget with creativity - and they learn the value of that inexpensive flatfold table that they used to badmouth - to make that 2nd & 3rd baby their own quilts. And they're exhausted. And they're scared. And they are 1000 miles away from family.
And you have your staff play with their kids while you hold them in the tiny restroom as they come completely undone because they just found out that their golden boy husband is having an affair with the someone he's been doing residency with for the past three years.
He confessed that he'd rather be with the other woman but she's of a different faith and it's more important to have kids than to be happy. And no. No he will not grant her a divorce. And he will not stop seeing the other woman - because he's a man. It's his right.
TRUE story.
Also - She was NOT THE ONLY ONE to fall to pieces in our store for similar reasons.
I loath the ideology of "tradwives". It is a false doctrine preach by Patriarchy not a divine being.
This is 100% what happened to the host mom I've been au-pairing for. And to many other moms my friends have been au-pairing for.
Married out of college, 4 kids, he spent 15 years building up his career while she took care of the house and the kids. When he was earning $600k a year suddenly he started to pull away - she wasn't as pretty anymore, the kids were loud, the house was a mess... She wasn't good enough anymore. He got himself a flat. He got her me and my precedessors to help with the kids. No, they can't divorce, that would make him pay her money for the kids and he didn't like that. Every once in a while a bill would be unpaid. My weekly checks would bounce. We lived in a $1,5mil house around DC and our gas or water was turned off more than once.
Somehow he was always out of money.
By accident she learned from a friend of a friend that he was actually seeing a young lady lawyer for a few years now. It wasn't her, it wasn't lost interest. He was just a piece of shit.
Thankfully, she had family that took no shit and they stood behind her and borrowed her money for lawyers to force the divorce now that she had proof of him cheating. She's spent tens of thousands to get there while he was resisting every step of the way - because without divorce he wouldn't have to pay her alimony, he could just throw scraps whenever he wanted and still pretend to be a good dad.
She's spent tens of thousands and two years to free herself from this man, and when she could finally go to work (thank fuck she finished college) she was earning $25k a year.
She only managed to get away with the support of her parents and family. Through the au-pair grapevine I've known other families like that. Too many. Lady down the street tried to commit suicide when same happened to her - she was from Taiwan and had no support to get free. And people around scorned her for being "dramatic" - women who held on to their places with their fingertips talked shit about her, because their own husbands would never...! Right?
This? This is the kind of shit that first wave feminists and suffragettes were fighting against. Hell, even into second-wave feminism.
This? Is why conservatives want to take away no-fault divorce--because if some dude says no to a divorce and you don't have any (IRON-TIGHT) evidence of cheating? Then you're stuck in that situation and he doesn't have to pay a drop toward you and your kids. He can go get a flat, fuck his mistress, and you will starve with your kids until you can get some kind of proof of him cheating and a judge who likes you.
Now imagine all of this horror movie shit, AND you can't open a bank account without this piece of shit opening it with you. That was what women dealt with until about the 70s when we were finally allowed to open bank accounts with a man's signature.
That is what conservatives and fundies want to take you back to. When this shit was just the fucking norm.
There are old white guys still alive who remember who damn nice it was when a woman couldn't open a bank account without a man's signature and his dad could go live a double life with a mistress with zero repercussions and oh how they slather and drool for those times. And how they have waxed poetic about these halcyon days to their desperate daddy-issues sons now eager to please and without the social skills or emotional maturity to understand the fucked up nature of it all.
I'm willing to bet there's like 2 or 3 Tradhusbands(tm) out there for every Tradwife you see, they just haven't found someone they can sink their claws into. Which should maybe terrify you. This Tradwife(tm) movement should really be considered a canary in the coal mine.
When I was born in the 2000s, my mom wanted to open a bank account for me. But she wasn't allowed without my dad. Firstly, because they weren't married and she didn't take his name. Secondly, even if she did he has to be there anyway. She had my birth certificate with her, proving she was my mom. But to no avail. My dad came back to the bank two weeks later. Alone. Without documents. He had no problem.
Even now! Every time there is a crisis, women's rights are tested and stripped. Because the people hungry for power and superiority will take any opportunity to reduce half the population into slaves again.
(The best of this post and its reblogs, but with links that work)
Here is a website where you can scroll down to all the different levels of the ocean
Here is a website where you can see the future of the universe
Here is a website where you can press a ‘make everything okay’ button, over and over, until things really are okay
Here is a website that you can read if you feel like a burden
Here is a website where you can look at strobe illusions (TW strobe/flashing)
Here is a website where you can cut stuff up (TW blood/sh)
Here and here are websites where you can play with sand
Here is a website where you can draw with macaroni and other fun foods
Here is a website where you can paint someone’s nails
Here is a website where you can grow a garden with emojis
Here is a website with hundreds of videos of people hugging you (rightfully dubbed ‘the nicest place on the internet’ because it really is, y’all, it made me cry)
Here is a website that will take you to other useless websites
Here is a website where you can make a tiny cat play bongo drums (and other instruments!)
Here is a website to help give you gentle reminders <3
Here is a website where you can grow a tiny farm
Here is a website where you can take a bunch of scientific personality tests
On earth, we use the word “burrito” to describe a tortilla filled with things you eat. Pretty simple stuff, and I’m surprised you at least got that part right. My burrito was, in fact, filled with food. In this, you and I agree and are friends. But this is also where my lifelong hatred begins for you and anyone else whose brain has been repeatedly scrubbed with the same mixture of bleach and Pop Rocks as yours has. Because that should have killed you, but left you around long enough to do what you did to me today. Let me explain:
You’re an idiot.
Let me further explain:
Burritos are eaten from one end to the other. So that means when you assemble a burrito with motherfucking ZONES of ingredients going that direction, you create a disgusting experience for the burrito’s end user. When you make a burrito, you should put the ingredients in layerslengthwise. That way, every bite has AT LEAST A FUCKING CHANCE of getting at least two types of ingredients, and there is little chance of becoming almost hopelessly trapped in a goddamned cilantro cavern.
Have you ever eaten one of the things you make all fucking day? You should try one. They are pretty good WHEN YOU ARE NOT WILLING YOURSELF THROUGH THE FUCKING EMPIRE OF SOUR CREAM ONLY TO END UP IN LETTUCE COUNTRY.
When you eat a burrito, you don’t stand it up and bite down on it lengthwise like a fucking Rancor. Humans can’t usually dislocate their jaws, and I’m not a fucking pelican. But you must think that’s how it’s done, since that would be THE ONLY FUCKING WAY to take a bite of your crapstrosity and have it taste like a burrito.
And guess what else, player? You probably can’t guess anything, because I’m pretty sure you’re just a mop with a hat on it that fell over and spilled some shit into a tortilla, but just in case, here’s what:
Humans also don’t eat burritos like fucking corn on the cob. Like a fucking typewriter from one end to the other a little at a time and then DING next line. But today I wish I had tried that. Because at least THEN I would be able to eat some rice, then beans, then be all like HEY BEANS I’LL BE RIGHT BACK JUST GOING OVER HERE TO THE GUACAMOLE FOR A SECOND.
Nope.
My experience was more like HEY BEANS IT’S JUST GOING TO BE YOU AND I FOR A MINUTE UNTIL I CAN FUCKING EXCAVATE THE RICE FROM BENEATH YOU BUT BY THEN YOU WILL BE A FADING MEMORY OH HEY I WAS WRONG I’M IN THE FUCKING CHEESEOSPHERE NOW RICE MUST BE NEXT I HOPE IT’S NOT ANOTHER FUCKING SALSA POCKET.
You built this thing like a fucking pack of LifeSavers.
And don’t even fucking think I’m about to open this shit up and re-engineer your nonsense 90 degrees. I ALREADY PUT A HOLE IN IT WITH MY FUCKING MOUTH. YEAH. THAT’S HOW I DISCOVERED YOU FUCKING SUCK AT LOOKING AT THINGS. I AM NOT GOING TO DO FUCKING TORTILLA ORIGAMI TO GET THIS SHIT BACK TOGETHER, ONLY TO END UP WITH A BURRITO THAT’S BEEN SHOT IN THE GUT AND IS BLEEDING YOUR INEPTITUDE.
What’s that? I should ask you to mix it up first next time? IS THIS JAMBA JUICE? I DON’T WANT TO DRINK MY FUCKING BURRITO THROUGH A BENDY STRAW, AND I DON’T WANT A PILE OF BURRITO SOUP IN A FLOUR CAN.
I just want a burrito.
In conclusion:
You’re the worst thing that has ever happened to the universe, you owe everyone everywhere an apology for this burritobomination, and I hope your babies look like monkeys.
UPDATE FOR EVERYONE WHO SAID “JUST EAT IT WITH A FORK”:
A fucking fork?
I DIDN’T ORDER THE FUCKING COBBURRITO SALAD.
If anyone ever handed me a burrito with a fork, THEY WOULD BE WEARING A BRAND NEW BURRITO HAT FROM MY FALL COLLECTION TEN SECONDS LATER.
That’s like buying a car and having them hand you a fucking wrench with the keys. Like YEAH WE KNOW THIS MOTHERFUCKER’S GOING TO EXPLODE AND BE SPREAD ACROSS EIGHT LANES AS SOON AS YOU HIT THE GAS, BUT SHIT, WE GAVE YOU A WRENCH, SO BE COOL.
Jesus already gave me two burrito forks. One at the end of each arm. They’re called fucking HANDS.
A fork. My god. I haven’t cried since I was six, but I’m fucking sobbing now.
But the question is: does the guy always make burritos like that, and if so, how do they still have this job? Or was it the first time and what prompted them to do such abomination?
I am struggling with the next chapter here some self indulgent baby Iggy and Peters fluff.
Summary: When The Jon finds Iggy, the little birdie, two thoughts are processed: first, it was his mission to protect anything who can't including hurt baby birds; second, his Ma always complained that the twins don't have friends outside the family since they are homeschooled. Mh... maybe The Jon could do two good actions in one!
"Please, The Jon, don't tell me you just kidnapped Thadeus Becile's son."
It was a humid day. The Jon could tell a storm was just around the corner. Metaphorically, of course! They weren't in Kazooland! No, his siblings and him had decided to go to the park with Ma and the twins. To stretch their legs and breath some fresh air, even if they didn't need to.
Whatever! The Jon enjoyed his alone stroll around the park without his older brothers ordering him around. Not that he minded most of the time, but sometimes it was nice to be on its own.
A low rumble in the sky interrupted his thoughts. The storm was approaching. Fast. He probably should go back to his family so they can go home. Or maybe they went home already, but they would be anxious if he didn't comr back before the rain starts.
But before he could turn back, a quiet sniffle stopped him dead in his track. He immediatly turned his audio device to the maximum sensibility, because the noise had been very low, almost imperceptible.
The Jon and his siblings had been updated six months after their creation to protect anyone who needs it. And a sniffle meant that someone was in trouble.
After rummaging in the bushes for a while, The Jon finally found who was sniffling so pitifully: a child. A little boy with dark hair, a round face, and two deep green eyes. He was sitting in the grass, sniffling like he was trying to not cry, and was holding his left knee.
Wait. The Jon knew this little boy!
"Oh! You are Jack's little birdie!" cheerfully exclaimed Jon, walking through the bush.
The little birdie looks back, startled, but didn't fly away. The Jon waved at him.
"I am The Jon! Remember?"
Birdie nodded, once, his face neutral even if his eyes were watery.
"Here! Let me help with your knee!"
The Jack kneeled next to the little birdie - what was his name again? - and took out one of the band-aids he carried around in case the twins get hurt.
"All done! You had been very brave!" beamed The Jon after applying the band-aid, patting little birdie's head.
It was... exciting, how much birdie reminded Jon the twins. They were the same age, sure, but little birdie has this same strangeness in him, the same easiness around bots, the same curiosity deep in his eyes...
Oh! This gave The Jon an idea!
"Say, birdie, would you like to have a snack?"
Birdie immediatly perked up, nodding with his eyes going biiiiiiig. Apparently, this baby bird was motivated by food! Perfect! The Jon picked him in his arms and started to walk toward the Walter Manor.
Peter the second, nicknamed Dhà by his ma, wasn't sure about... this. Huddled up with his twin Peter the third - Trì - on the living room couch, staring at the... "thing" sitting on the carpet accross the coffee table.
The Jon had come home late, but Rabbit had reassured them that it was just The Jon being The Jon and he would come back. But Rabbit didn't warn them about, was the "little bird" he had brought back.
But the little bird wasn't a bird at all! It was a boy. With big green staring eyes and a bad tendency to munch on anything he could put his hands on, currently a dusty gear he had found amon the coal for the chimney.
The Jon had excitely told them he had found a "friend of the same age" for them, because Ma always complained they should have relationships outside the family. And then The Jon had disappeared in the kitchen to prepare some snacks, leaving the three boys alone.
But that wasn't a friend! A friend was nice and warm and played with them, like the bots. This strange boy wasn't like that. He looked more like... what was the story The Spine read them three nights ago... a shapeshifter! One of those monsters who take the place of kids kidnapped in the forest...
"So..." tentatively started Trì. "What's your name?"
The boy finally looked up from his task to munch on the gear. But he didn't answer.
"I am Trì, and this is my brother Dhà!"
The boy stayed silent, slowly blinking at Trì. Which was rude. Dhà hated rude people, his parents always told him manners were the first step to be a good gentleman.
So he threw a pillow at the boy's face.
"Peter!" gasped Trì when the boy fell flat on his back.
"He is rude!" protested Dhà, poutting.
It wasn't like the boy was crying or anything. He was just...lying there?Weird.
"What is going on here?" asked Upgrade, stepping in the living room.
"The Jon brought us a friend." explained plainly Dhà while Trì climbed down the couch to go check on the boy.
"And that's how you treat your friend, mister Peter Two?"
Ouch, Upgrade could be as silly as Rabbit, but also as serious as The Spine. And right now she wasn't laughing.
But before anyone could say anything else,the boy jumped on his feet and lunged at Upgrade to grab her hand and looked up at her with big curious green eyes.
"Hello!" softened Upgrade. "What's your name?"
The boy still didn't answer, too busy by studying Upgrade's hand likeshe was a miracle.
"Upgrade! You met Iggy the birdie!" pipped up The Jon, walking in the room with a tray of snacks.
"Iggy the birdie? Is he one of our fans?"
"Nope! Or I never saw him at our shows. But I found him at the park hurt and alone."
Upgrade nodded at that, like it was making perfect sense. And Dhà considered fetching his father in the lab even if it was a long walk for his tiny legs and he would probably be reprimanded for interrupting his work. But Trì took Iggy's hand gently, oh so gently like only him knew how to be gentle, and smiled at him.
"Nice to meet you, Iggy. I like bots too!"
Iggy blinked like he always done the last few times someone talked to him.But then he nodded, once, in some sort of agreement. Then, he grabbed a bun from the snack tray and eat it in two seconds flat.
This made everyone laughed. Except Dhà who didn't like to see HIS twin being all nice and friendly with some sort of... of...of racoon!
Trì liked Iggy.
It was the first time Trì made a new friend outside of the manor, and it was strange. Or maybe Iggy was strange. But none the less, Trì liked Iggy.
Sure, he didn't talked much, and growled when someone was too close of the food he had claimed as his, and was a bit scary when he was staring right at you.
But Iggy was nice! He wasn't scared by the bots like the other kids, which Trì knew it hurt the bots' feelings. He didn't mind Dhà's temper and grumpiness. He didn't mind the strange things happening in the manor because of the blue matter (he didn't even flinched when he was buried under a mountain of sandwhichs, courtesy of Hatchworth).
And Iggy didn't mind Trì being clingy.
Everyone told Trì that he was too clingy. Always holding, always hugging, always seeking...
Not Iggy. Iggy let him hold his time the whole time while they ate snack. Iggy let him hide with him during the game of hide and seek. Iggy let him cuddle in the elevator, holding their breaths every time a bot walked near their hiding place.
"Say Iggy... do you like music?"
Iggy nodded once.
"I like music too! Do you play an instrument?"
Iggy hesitated but noddded once again.
"Not me. I am not very good at it even if all the bots tried to teach me. Peter is better, he is pretty good with a guitar and he started to write his own songs! Well... they are a bit silly but I like them. You would like them too."
"What'cha doin'?"
The boys were startled by the sudden opening of the elevator's doors, revealing Rabbit grinning mischiviously.
Colonel Peter Alexander Walter, the first since a few years now, was a tired man. But he was never tired enough to stop working. Especially when The Spine and Rabbit needed respectively a maitenance and emergency repairs.
It took him all morning and most of the afternoon, but he was done! His darling Iris didn't even have to drag him out of the lab for dinner. Which was a win in his book, because it meant he could spend some time with his sons and the bots.
And he probably should do that quickly because he could hear a storm outside - where was The Jon? - and the twin bots arguing near the elevator.
"No Rabbit, we shouldn't hide with them. No one knows we are playing."
"But it would be funny! Come on! For once the twins have a friend!"
A friend? What friend?
Peter walked to where the bots were standing and was greeted by his son,most likely Trì, sitting in the elevator while holding the hand of another boy of his age. A boy who... wait.
Wait.
Wait wait wait.
Waitwaitwaitwaitwait!
"Boys. Who is this?!" half-shouted Peter without wanting to.
Everyone looked at him, falling silent. The boy lazily blinked at him like his outburst was normal.
Iris Tonia had participated to those "family urgence meetings" in the past. In fact, she was the one who created them and asked for them most of the time. But she never participated to one this chaotic.
She had to think about the facts first. First fact: she had pushed the twins to try make friends outside the manor for months now. Second fact: The Jon had found a "little birdie" in the park and decided to bring himto the manor. Third fact: the bird was in fact a very silent human boy. Fourth fact: Trì was awfully fond of the boy, staying glued to him. Fifth fact: the boy's name was Iggy, short for-...
"Ignatius Becile!" half-cried Peter, looking like he would have a panic attack any minute now. "You kidnapped Thadeus' son?!"
The Jon looked down, having the decency to look ashamed. Which wasn't the case of the rest of the bots. Upgrade was playing with Iggy's slight curly hair, Hatchworth was giving the boys so much food that Iris was sure that one of them will be sick at the end of the night, Rabbit was vibrating with excitement, and The Spine was trying very hard to not look too curious.
But Iris wasn't concern about any of them, her priority was calming down her husband and making sure her eldest sweetheart of son, who was sitting on her lap, doesn't strangle the little Becile for the crime of stealing his twin.
"Peter, dear, breath."
"I can't! This is... this is terrible! What if HE comes here?! What if he decides to take-..."
Peter choked on his words, shaking so badly that The Spine grabbed a chair for him to sit on.
"Love, if he wanted to come, he would be already there. We never saw him with his son either. Most likely, his nanny will come here or we will have to walk him back home. It will be alright."
"Oh Ma'!" interrupted Rabbit. "Can't we keep him? Petesy really like this bird!"
"Rabbit, Ignatius is not a bird and he has a family." And he shouldn't make friend with Walters because your father and his are ennemies. she wanted to add, but it was such a sad thing to say in front of the children that she held her tongue.
Rabbit was ready to protest when three short knocks on the front door made everyone froze, a thunder clap punctuating their shock.
"Who would venture outside under such an heavy rain?" asked Hatchworth, looking with confusion outside where everything was dark and rainy.
"Maybe it's just a walter worker..." tried The Spine.
But Ignatius had immediatly perked up at the knocks, there was no doubt that it was someone he knew. Someone who had tracked him down. Someone who probably wasn't happy.
A glance at Peter informed Iris that she had to go open the door herself. The poor man was white as a sheet. So, she stood up, put Dhà in his father's lap, and walked to the door before anyone could stop her.
"Evening." greeted a very tall man dressed in a black raincoat.
Wait, no... it wasn't a man. It was a bot. A very tall and large bot without a faceplat. His face was lighten by the furnace in his throat. And he was drenched by the rain, but didn't seem to care. Another thunderbolt lit him from behind, breaking the moment of stupor.
"Good evening, mister. I assume you are here for Ignatius."
The bot raised an eyebrow at her but only nodded once. Uh. Now Iris knew who Iggy's nanny was.
She stepped aside to let him come in. He didn't get far, only stepping inside to be out of the rain, staying on the doormat. He looked around for a second while everyone stared at him like he was a ghost, until his optics stopped on Ignatius.
"It's late." said the bot with a neutral tone.
Iggy didn't move, simply staring. The bot sighed, grumbling something about "Jack telling him silly stories".
"Iggy, it's time to go home. The dinner is ready, everyone is waiting for you." finally said the bot with a tone which sounded like an attempt at cheerfullness but failed miserably.
But it seemed enough for Ignatius who jumped off the couch, letting go of Trì's hand and ran to the bot, who immediatly caught him in his arms to carry him.
"What were you doing here anyway?"
Ignatius took a deep breath.
"I wanted to find some bird feathers for Jack because he said he would make me a hat with pretty feathers like the one I saw at your last concert but I slipped on a rock and fell and my knee was bleeding but I didn't cry but The Jon found me and patched me up then he proposed snacks if I was friend with Trì and Dhà so we played hide and seek and it was really fun and the robots are very interesting and smart and nice and they gave me sandwhichs and chocolate that I never ate before and I want more but when we were hidden in the elevator with Trì who is very warm and then Trì's father found us and freaked out and was scared you were coming! And I found a piece of coal for you, Bone Head."
"Don't call me Bone Head, it's The Skull."
Despite his objection, The Skull had soften while listening Iggy and had taken the tiny piece of coal with reverence.
"But it's time to go home, now. Jack was worried about you and Hare will start to scratch the walls if he stresses more. You really need to stop disappearing on us like that. You are lucky I can track down your signal."
Iggy giggled, clapping his hands on his mouth and kicking his little legs with excitement. The Skull sighed and patted his head affectionnately. Then, he turned his heels, ready to leave. But Iris caught his sleeve.
"Wait! You need..."
She grabbed and handed him an umbrella big enough to cover the bot and the child in his arms. The Skull hesitated for a second, then took it with his free hand with great care, like scared to damage it or of Iris to change her mind. He thanked her with a nod, opened the umbrella and left, the thunder still rumbling in the sky.
A moment passed, then hell broke loose. Everyone starting to talk at the same time about what happened and what they think about it. But over the chaos, Iris could distinctively hear Dhà on his father's - who was still stunned - lap complaining:
discoholicmusic
snowghoul
areudirty
turnnoffyourmind
prguitarman
ellievsbear
andulkaphoto
theartofmadeline
origamiaround
