#chv

"Come, darling, hold my hand please!" Stede wiggles his fingers at the end of his outstretched arm.

Izzy takes his hand with a tight squeeze, fingers clammy and cold.

They're out on their property, a good few acres away from the house. The grass out here is much softer, much thicker, but also squishy enough that Izzy, clumsy as he is when he gets all small and soft like this, could easily trip.

The air is colder, settling into the cooler months, and Izzy's cheeks show a rosy red flush from underneath the scarves and beanie and earmuffs that Stede had wrangled on him on the drive over. The thick wooden sweaters layered on him seem to prove against the rattle of the cold air, his oversized bottle-green coat shielding him far better than Ed's worn leather, which he's trying to hide his shivers behind.

They walk, slower for Izzy, across the patchwork swathes of grass that cover the huge arching hills all around them. The grass thickens into patches of weeds and plants that dance in the wind with a sort of fluff sprouted out the top of each stem. Izzy reaches out to grab it a multitude of times, and eventually Ed swoops in from beside and takes his other hand, dug out from the warmth of his cotton lined pockets, to keep him from tracking any back into the car or the house.

Tucked back behind the sweeping masses of yellow budded weeds, the rounded edge of a still pond sits untouched, smooth enough to show the sky in a glazed reflection.

"Baba was out here, and he found something he wanted to show you, Angel boy."

Izzy pouts up at Stede as they pad through the soft patches of grass. He's still not a fan of his sweet and sugary nicknames, even now.

He turns to Ed. "Why were you out here? 'S cold."

Ed nods. "For sure, it's cold. I came out here for a walk. I wasn't feeling very good and thought a walk might help me."

Izzy's face twists up in a mixture of confusion and mild disgust that makes Ed giggle. "Walking doesn't make me feel better," he says, looking back down at where his gumboots kick at the camp clumps of grass in front of him.

Ed huffs a small laugh. "No, no, I know you don't like walking, I'm not gonna make you go on a walk."

Izzy nods, punctuating Ed's sentence with a petulant hum.

"What we're actually here for," Ed says, swinging his and Izzy's clasped hands, "Is so that I can show you something I found out here."

Izzy's head falls to the side in an open show of confusion. "Like... a scavenger hunt?"

"No, bug," Ed laughs, inky hair cutting through the icy wind, "I don't think so."

Izzy nods, seemingly satisfied, and keeps quiet.

"Stede, did you...?"

"Oh! Yes,"

Stede rummages around in his back pocket and produces a tightly packed paper bag, rounded at its stuffed edges.

Before Izzy can even really look at the damn bag, let alone decipher what might be inside, Ed it already tapping at his cheek, trying to garner his attention.

"Come here, follow me," he says, taking both of Izzy's hands and leading him down closer toward the fraying edge of the meeting grass and water. Ed crouches the closer he gets to the pond, and so Izzy does the same, crouching down so that he has to walk funny to keep up with Ed.

"Look, look, look," Ed splays out his pointed finger, close to Izzy's eye-line so that he can also follow in the same direction. "Down in the reeds, Iz, can you see it?"

Izzy squints his eyes, peering closer at where the tall stalks of reefs cluster around the edge of the pond.

Ed looks up to Stede, excited grin obscured by a bitten lip, and is met with an equally excited smile as Stede's dart between Izzy, Ed, and the base of the reeds.

Izzy's focused gaze turns sullen, wide sad eyes peeking up at Ed over a little pout. "I don't see anything." He whispers. The deepening curve of his frown paired with the obvious note of the lump in his throat made Ed's heart twinge.

"Nah, keep looking, bub, look over there!"

Izzy tries looking again, though not without an indignant little huff, and grumbles in the back of his throat.

"Baba I don't-" his whining is cut off by a little gasp.

Ed grins "See?"

"Baba, Baba, look!" Izzy squeals, flapping his pointed finger over towards the reeds.

"I know, I know!" He stage whispers, wrapping one arm over Izzy's shoulder and the other taking his waving hand and holding it still against Izzy's tummy. "Shhhh, baby, we gotta be quiet."

Izzy nods, mouth hung open in unadulterated glee, and Ed listens to his rushed breath with an ever growing grin.

Across the sleek edge of the pond, tiny ripples begin to break the surface of the water. Between the tall dark stalks of reed comes a flurry of yellow. a gaggle of little ducklings paddle out into the water, dipping their heads down into the water and shaking it off their beaks with quick twitching movements.

Six or seven slip out from between the browning stalks, some purely yellow and others spattered with greying feathers. Behind them follows a white duck, spotted grey feathers spread down across its back and tail.

"Baba!" Izzy whispers, hand fisted in the front of Ed's shirt and knees splayed out in the wet mud. "Duckies."

"I know!" Ed giggles. He appears almost more excited about the ducklings than Izzy.

Ed glances up to Stede, out of Izzy's view, and gestures quietly.

"Oh! Yes!"

Stede timidly steps over, much more careful of the mud and dew than either Ed or Izzy, and crouches down on Izzy's other side.

"Do you know what this is, pumpkin?" He asks, holding open the little paper bag for Izzy to peer down inside.

"Pellets." Izzy mumbles around the finger in his mouth.

"For?"

"Duckies."

"Good job!" Stede gives Izzy's cheek a fluttering kiss. "Can you hold out your hands for me? Together, please,"

Stede pours a good portion of pellets into Izzy's cupped hands, folds the bag and puts it away. If all goes well, they might be able to come back again.

"Here, bub," Ed murmurs, taking a small pinch of pellets and throwing it out over the glassy surface of the pond.

Before Izzy can even begin to complain about Ed stealing his duck food, the ducklings one by one begin to flock to the trail of floating pellets, swimming closer and closer as they chase crumb after crumb.

"Here, here, baby, hold our your hands," Ed grasps onto Izzy's wrist and gently helps him lean forward. Stede hooks his hand in the hood of Izzy's coat and holds on tight, if only to stop him from plummeting face first into an icy pond.

Izzy's cupped hands are thrust out over the water, lowered down slowly for the gathering flock of chirping ducklings to curl around the edges of his palms.

The soft overlapping chirps of the little ducklings is like white noise, filling up the empty air around them as Izzy smiles and squeaks under his breath. He looks up over to Ed every few moments, searching for reassurance and finding it in Ed's resounding returned smile.

Izzy hums under his breath - almost an excited squeal with the pitch it's at - when the mother chitters and takes her own turn at the food piled in his hands, soon dwindling.

"Mama duck..." Izzy hums, craning his neck to view more of the spotted white duck.

"Yeah, that's the mummy duck," Ed whispers, tucking a stray lick of hair behind Izzy's ear.

"Look, precious," Stede murmurs, pointing back over to the reeds where a dark duck floats idly, "That's the daddy duck."

"Why's he over there?" Izzy chirps, gaze trained religiously on the ducklings around his hands.

"He's watching over his family," Stede explains, hand tracing over the edge of Izzy's shoulder. "He's making sure they're nice and safe."

"We're not gonna hurt them." Izzy states, like it were fact, which they suppose it is, as Izzy is too timid to hurt a fly let alone one of these little ducklings.

"No, we're not," Ed says, petting Izzy's shoulder, "But he's watching just in case. Daddy has to protect his baby duckies, doesn't he?"

Izzy nods firmly.

"Can we... can we feed the daddy?"

"Sure, kid, do you want to do it or do you want me to do it?"

Izzy inspects the twittering ducklings eating out of his hands, brows furrowed. "Um..." he looks between the ducklings and the dark brown duck across the way, "Can you?"

"Sure thing, bub," Ed nicks a small handful of feed from Izzy's hand and tosses it across the water. The dark duck paddles forward and dips down to scoop the feed up in it's bill.

"Does he feel better now?"

"Yeah, I think so," Ed says, knocking his forehead against Izzy's, "It would be hard work protecting all those babies, but now he's got a nice treat."

"Uh huh."

"Are your hands all empty?"

Izzy frowns as a few of the little ducklings float back away from his cupped hands.

"Oh," he pouts, "I think so."

Ed pats his back. "That's okay," he says reassuringly as the last of the feed is snapped up by a particularly hungry duckling, "Now that your hands are empty, would you like to pat one?"

Izzy hums happily as he tips the last of the crumbs into the water, dusting off his hands. "Yeah," he hums, chewing on his bottom lip.

"How about that one, precious boy," Stede points out a pale yellow duckling, still trying to scoop up the slowly sinking crumbs of feed.

Izzy timidly reaches his hand over to the little thing and gently brushes over it's bill, then softly pats the space between it's eyes.

He's usually very quiet like this, even when he's old enough to hold an actual conversation, but he hums delightedly as he pats down the duckling back, downy wings. spread out and flapping excitedly.

Ed eventually reaches his own hands out and delicately scoops the little bird up and out of the water, setting it in Izzy's cupped hands.

"Ew," Izzy giggles squeakily, "It's all wet on me."

Stede laughs. "It's just water, darling, it's not wee or anything."

"Okay." Izzy huffs, eyes focused on how the little duckling pads around in his hands on wobbly little feet, cuddling up against his thumb.

"Isn't he cute?" Stede whispers. "Such a little darling."

"Yeah..."

"Do you like the duckies, Iz?"

"Uh huh..."

"You wanna come back, bug?"

"Yeah,"

Ed and Stede share a laugh as Izzy's responses grow shorter and shorter and his fixation of the little duck grows.

After a while of Izzy's breathy humming and gentle petting of the little duckling, the big white duck begins to quack loud and fast, kicking in the water and slowly beginning to float away.

The ducklings gathered close to Izzy and Ed follow after her in a flurry of rushed motions, slipping over each other as they follow their mother away.

"Mummy duck says that it's time to go," Ed whispers, clearing the confused look on Izzy's face and replacing it with a much more solemn one, "Put your ducky back now, ducky needs to go home with it's family."

With help from Ed, Izzy lowers the little duckling back into the water, and it chirps brightly as it joins the end of the line behind it's mother.

"Bye bye," Izzy waves, "Goodbye."

"Good boy, Iz," Ed coos, giving his cheek a fluttering kiss, "Nice work."

"You're such a smart boy," Stede continues from behind them both, "So gentle and kind with the ducks."

Izzy hums again, leaning into Ed's chest and squishing his cheek up.

Hoy hicieron esa pregunta en el matinal de CHV.

Antes pensábamos que no.

Me acuerdo cuando, con orgullo, nos llamábamos "Los jaguares de Latinoamérica" y festinábamos con la probidad de nuestros Carabineros que eran de lo mejor evaluados en la región. Desde ese recuerdo puedo comprender la pregunta. Pero mira: anda a cualquier municipalidad de pueblo chico. A cualquiera! y pregunta por los funcionarios. Por cómo son elegidos y castigados según si son de más o menos simpatía (política o no) del alcalde, el administrador municipal o el jefe de gabinete. Revisa sus antecedentes laborales. Anda a cada pueblo y ve cuántos negocios tienen patente. Revisa quienes son los inspectores y por qué no fiscalizan (según son primos, ex-compañeros, afectos en general).

Pregunta por qué en los pueblos no se puede denunciar y averigua cómo los pacos van a carretes clandestinos, cómo son amigos de los traficas por que son de sus círculos de confianza o terminan entrando en ellos, porque son cabros con ganas de divertirse como cualquier otro.

Es más. Revisa todos tus correos y ve cuántas veces partiste diciendo "me puedes hacer un favor" a un empleado público amigo tuyo, a tu expolola que trabaja en el registro civil o a tu compare que da los permisos de circulación.

Piensa cuántas veces te educaste con resmas de papel y lápices bic que tu mamá se llevó de la oficina. Cuadernos, portaminas, liquid paper, corchetes...

Todos somos corruptos porque nadie nos ha enseñado en qué consiste no serlo. Y no nos caracterizamos por ser una especie reflexiva precisamente.

My sweet girlfriend got me CHVRCHES’ Every Open Eye vinyl record as one of my gifts for Valentine’s day which got me more hyped for CHV4 😭💘

Bold the truth with Lana!! 

Bless you @ohhiplumbob for the tag ilysm!! I swear everyone’s done this already, if not, join the fun and say I tagged you!!