#Courier Carrot

[arlathen]

had the vision of amadea figuring out that, like, the nice courier who brings her things from the village is one of solas' agents and she invites him in and makes him help her peel carrots and potatoes for soup and then she ladles some into jars and seals them up and is like "okay, you saw me make this and can attest that they arent poisoned, so can you make sure that it gets delivered to the dread wolf. i have a feeling he isnt eating well"

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Lost & Found - A Guero (Mayans MC)/OC Story.

Okay, okay! I cave to the demand and the excitement I have warmly received from you all. Here you go, darlings. First chapter is here. I can’t promise I will be posting the second next week just in case I want to do ANOTHER deep dive into the editing, but since I am just over halfway through writing it now, I thought I would at least post the first. 

Story is somewhat canon, with a few changes here and there to suit my artistic vision... i.e. I kicked canon in the ass and told her to go home, hahaha! Oh, I also gave Guero a surname, too! I tried to keep him as true to who we see on screen, but obviously since we didn’t get him for long, some of his characterisations are of my creation. Don’t like it? Don’t read. Simple as that. 

Nervously and excitedly awaiting your feedback, eeek! :)

Words - 3,834

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, Minors DNI. Recounts of kidnap, child trafficking, physical/verbal/sexual abuse in the coming chapters. 

Unknown numbers. Ezekiel Reyes often received more than he wished to endure upon the burner phone he used for club business. Regularly they were legitimate, but occasionally telemarketers, such annoyances he simply hung up on instantly. While walking from his trailer to the clubhouse, he expected the call coming in to be that of nuisance, 11am seemingly the call centre worker bee’s peak time to bother him about his long-distance courier needs, or savings on his energy bills.  

It was no telemarketer, but he almost disconnected the call all the same in sheer disbelief.  

“Ezekiel Reyes?”

“Who wants to know?” His journey across the yard was undisturbed, watching as Bottles and Nestor took in an alcohol delivery, a nearby Guero and Downer giving them the usual offering of shit talk.

“Rocco Lombardi.”  

He stopped dead in his tracks. The Rocco Lombardi was reaching out to him? Nah.

“This your idea of a joke?”  

He heard a deep chuckle filter down the line. “I’m more of a knock knock, who’s there kinda fella.” Remaining paused, he thought whoever it was had at least nailed the thick, New Jersey accent. He had to give them props for that, he guessed. “Listen, you got FaceTime, I take it?”  

“I do, but...” The line cut dead. Five seconds later and sure enough, a FaceTime call came in. EZ nearly fell over when there on the screen, appeared the face of the big boss, the notorious and famed king of the mafia. There he was; the head of the biggest, most powerful crime family on earth. Rocco Lombardi.  

“That better?”  

He raised his eyebrows, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “Yeah, the confirmation is appreciated.”

“Good. Now not for nothin’, but I can’t fuckin’ stand video calls, encrypted or not. I’ll call you back.” Once again, the call disconnected, the cell ringing after a few moments. All the while EZ could feel his ego swelling, realising truly how far he’d come in his leadership that he was being sought out by someone of such standing within the criminal underworld. He was nothing short of surprised when he eventually found out why, though.

He’d always believed that the code of La Cosa Nostra forbade their operations to extend into the realms of drug trafficking. To be specific, he’d assumed it stemmed from reasons of mortality, perhaps a skewed sense of Catholic guilt, when in fact, the commoner explanation was far simpler.  

The prospect of a lengthier prison sentence, of course, increased the propensity of their members turning upon the organisation, becoming government informants in order to secure a more lenient custodial term. When the federal carrot is dangled before a desperate man, one looking at forty years when his assistance could mean all he ends up serving is ten to fifteen, tongues tend to be loosened.  

Rats out themselves, major players are taken off the streets and ultimately, the government wins.  It would be very reasonable to assume that the code is in place for this very reason, to prevent such catastrophic damage within their organisation and family infrastructure. The risk is not worth the payout. Or rather, it is bendable to the point of unrecognition when those doing said bending can earn a substantial profit.  

Enter Rocco Lombardi and his proposition.

“I think we could mutually benefit from the blending of your organisation with mine, Mr Reyes.” Lombardi was intelligent enough to be concise, even when speaking upon the relative safety of a burner phone. He hadn’t gotten to the top because he was sloppy. Lombardi had sat at the very head of the hierarchy for years, after all. He was hailed as the boss of all bosses for a reason.  

They’d once given John Gotti the monicker of Teflon Don, because nothing ever stuck to him in the way of evidence to bring about charges. That was until his own underboss has turned on him, the evidence given at trial by Salvatore “Sammy the Bull” Gravano leading to his incarceration. Truly, if there was one overlord within the organised crime world who lacked cohesion, it was the man who ruled the Romano crime family with an iron fist.

EZ Reyes had launched into thoroughly researching Lombardi after his reaching out to him, learning the ins and out of his character, how much of a slippery customer he was, how – and it went without saying – he would use people as pawns to further his own reach and agenda. It went without saying because it was the way of his own world, too. Within his MC, he went about the very same, albeit on a much smaller scale.  

Rocco Lombardi’s reach was, to put it simply, enormous. EZ and his VP would be lying if they’d have claimed that bearing such in mind, it hadn’t piqued their curiosity over what on earth he could want with a Californian based MC. For all intents and purposes, the man had his operations not merely sewn up tightly, but steel reinforced.  

“All I know is we gotta play it carefully, mano,” Bishop had sagely advised prior to their leaving Santo Padre to for a face to face with the mafioso legend, Rocco insisting that a larger MC presence not assemble in the interests of it remaining nothing short of clandestine. “Our worlds might be similar, but the mafia play by an entirely different set of rules. I ain’t saying you’re not smart enough to outsmart the guy, but he’s the kind who will have thought three moves ahead before we’ve even stepped foot into that hotel suite.”  

EZ had sipped his beer, narrowed eyes unmoving as he’d absorbed the words of the former president with all the credence they deserved. Bishop had, after all, been approached by the mafia before. His reasons for turning down an offer from a different crime family had been solid in their validity, and EZ knew he would be a fool to let this warning go unheeded. Especially since the club were on their knees where their drug trade was concerned. He also knew that somehow, Rocco likely knew this, too.  

The mafia tended to have ears in the very last places one might expect them to extend. He also knew that they preferred to keep their operations within the Italian American brotherhood if they could at all help it, so the need for an alliance was somewhat even in its beneficial mutuality.  

“I guess we just have to wait and see what this sit down entails.” Truly, it was all they could do.  

The time passed quickly between then and the two of them riding through the strip, both separately feeling the mist of apprehension gather, until they were parking up at the hotel and casino they were scheduled to meet Lombardi at, their demeanours switching to cool composure before they’d even entered the building.

The two men dressed in denim, flannel and leather looked out of place as they strode across the foyer of the MGM Grand, the buzz and tacky decadence of Las Vegas swirling all around them. Gamblers bet it all, slot machines flashed in frenzy while spitting out endless streams of coins, and alcohol flowed without restriction, certainly enough to keep it so the house always won.  

Would it be their own win he was sealing, EZ thought while waiting for the elevator, or was this the biggest and most uncertain gamble the club were about to make to date? He guessed the next few hours would tell, whether or not he was about to be presented with a winning hand.  

The ding of the elevator roused him, both stepping inside, Bishop pressing the button for the tenth floor. EZ stared straight ahead at his reflection in the shiny metal of the elevator doors, noting the haunted veil that hung over his features. Shadowy eyes and skin bearing many more lines than a man in his mid-thirties should do were now his staple in appearance, a few further flecks of grey in his hair also.

Ezekiel Reyes was a man barely holding it together, but his demeanour did not give away the tumult that gnawed at his guts and yanked at his nerves, even if it had seemed to age him five years in just over seven months. His control was as unquestionable as it was unshakable, even in the dark times his club was currently under the duress of. He would never, ever let the toll it was taking upon him show.  

He was in Vegas, after all. Home of the poker face.  

The man at his side, though? He saw through the veil. He knew. In the interests of helping him glue back together the smashed fragments of the MC, he chose to keep his observances to himself. When he’d reigned supreme, if someone had pointed out his weak points, he would have shown no magnanimity in return. He knew better than to antagonise. Bishop Losa was nothing if not tactile these days, with how much delicacy teetered upon a knife’s edge, how much was at stake.  

The elevator shunted to a stop, the doors gliding open, the men exchanging a look and a nod before they exited, walking in step down the long hallway. Coming to a stop in front of room eight one five, EZ reached to knock, his arm suddenly grasped, preventing the rap of knuckles upon the sleek, white enamel.

“Whatever goes down in there, I got you.” Bishop’s words were delivered with a solemn nod, EZ returning it before knocking the door. They stood tall as they waited, unflinching, rock-like in their demeanour, the door opening to reveal a slight yet menacing looking man in an expensive suit. He eyed up the two men standing before him, his lips pursing slightly as he stood back to allow their entrance.  

“Guns on the table.”  

EZ’s brow knitted. “The fuck?”

“You heard me, stronzo. Guns. On. The. Table.”  

Neither man took well to his condescending delivery, both irked at the display of what they considered to be one hell of a chip upon his shoulder. EZ was just about to offer his retort when a voice came from further within the suite.

“Stop playing rottweiler and let my guests in, Mario. If we’re armed, so can they be, too.” Immediately, he stood aside at the instruction of his boss, a large, dark-haired man rising from his seat at the dining table, two armed men stationed in opposing corners of the suite. “My apologies. This one here, he can be a hot head, y’know?”

Although seemingly personable right off the bat, there was an aura surrounding Rocco Lombardi that virtually crackled with menace. His ‘thou shalt not fuck with me’ demeanour was beyond palpable. “Take a seat, fellas. Can I offer either of youse a drink?”

EZ’s eyes flitted around the room, taking in every detail. He stored it all on the internal hard drive that was his brain, his guard up as naturally it should have been. “No, thank you.”

Rocco took the rebuff in his stride, gesturing to the chairs opposite as he sat again. “A man who likes to get straight down to business. I can appreciate that.” Down to business was exactly how it went, no pleasantries, no idle chatter. Rocco cut right to the chase.

“My proposition is simple, Ezekiel. My current methods in transportation of product are, shall we say, attracting more attention than myself and my associates are comfortable with, y’know? I need to implement a one stop solution. I also need a far more financially viable method of my product crossing the border from Mexico than I’m currently paying through the fucking nose for.”  

Bribes. Of course, Lombardi meant bribing the border control, an exercise EZ knew likely cost fortunes, cutting into a profit margin the mafia were probably tired of having bites taken out of. “This is where the MC comes in, youse and your tunnel.” EZ’s eyebrow twitched, just a fraction, Rocco smirking at the tell.  

“Yeah, I know all about it. Ain’t many places my ears don’t have reach. I want that tunnel as a new channel to move my product across the border, which then will be transferred to the Port of San Diego, to a designated shipping container the day it ports. You unload into the container, minus your personal cut that will ensure you keep the monopoly on supply within the Californian correctional facilities, and you also get a nice little monetary injection for you and your boys on a monthly basis. How’s that sound?”

EZ took a moment to ponder, his fingers knitting before him on the table, arm muscles flexing as he shared a sideways glance with Bishop. “Sounds like there’s a catch.”  

Rocco smirked, taking a long puff on his cigar, his eyes twinkling through the thick plumes of smoke as he leaned back in his chair. “You move two tons at a time. That is non-negotiable.”  

Two fucking tons every month. Holy mother of god. Before they’d even entered that room, they of course knew the reach of the Romano crime family, that it was extensive. Worldwide, even. Two tons of heroin every four weeks truly hammered home just how far Lombardi’s tentacles reached within the criminal underworld. The risks associated with that were unfathomable, EZ lifting his chin, his poker face firmly set once more. “I’m gonna need to see a number, the nice little monetary injection you speak of.”  

Rocco reached into the pocket of his suit, removing a pen, taking a napkin from the table before him and scribing a number upon it, sliding it across the polished wood. Upon viewing it, EZ’s well trained blank façade slid south quickly, showing it to Bishop.  

“Jesus fucking Christ.”  

His quiet exclamation was no understatement over the amount of zero’s scrawled upon the napkin.  

“I assume you know of our current difficulties with the LNG?”

The tall man nodded. “Quite a fucking pasticcio youse have gotten yourself into, eh?” His smile widened suddenly, slowly drawing his thumb and forefinger from the corners of his mouth down to the centre of his lip. “If you do the first shipment for free, I can take care of that, as well as your issues with the knuckleheaded, heavy arms wielding fuck heads you got yourselves caught up in, too.” He hissed a breath over his teeth, shaking his head. “Fentanyl, gentleman. What a risky business that is.”

What in the fuck didn’t this man know about their operations? EZ was all but surprised that Rocco wasn’t clued in on the colour of his underwear by that point, the man seemingly well informed, his intel even extending to knowing about their deal with Cole.  

He rose to his feet, jerking his head towards the balcony. “If you could give myself and my VP a moment?”  

Rocco made a passive motion with his hand, nodding. “Sure, take your time.”  

They strode across the suite, wallet chains rattling and leather creaking the only sounds to permeate the silence of the room, EZ sliding the glass door open. The warm Vegas air hit him, his eyes narrowing as he looked out over the luminosity of the strip, thousands upon thousands of lights twinkling. They glittered a promise of wealth and prosperity hinged upon a gamble, which was exactly what Rocco Lombardi was offering up to them.

“You have to back me on this when we take it to the table. The risk is massive, and I appreciate that, but this? This is our way out of it all. Our way out and our ladder to climb back to the top.”

Bishop considered the words of his president as he pulled out his cigarettes, lighting one up. A massive risk; fuck, that was putting it lightly. It was a fool’s errand, in short, transporting such a colossal consignment of heroin. The pay off, though? If they could execute each run flawlessly, it would be beyond worth it. Santo Padre would be back on top, and the Mayans kings of California.  

He wanted with everything he had to back EZ, but something persistent tugged at him deep in his guts. The old adage ‘too good to be true’ echoed through his mind. There had to be another catch. For all appearances, said catch appeared to be the two tons of narcotics, the kind of consignment that would mean the MC would never see the outside of a prison for the remainder of their lives, should they be caught moving it. However, he felt there was another shoe yet to drop from Lombardi’s perspective.  

Conflict rose in him like an unpleasant tempest, knowing that they were stuck between a rock and a hard place. Take the deal and shoulder an enormous risk or walk away from it and try to seek a way out of their mess alone. Being in the pocket of the mafia was a dangerous location, he knew that; they both knew that. In this instance, no matter how much trepidation he felt, he had to concede that Lombari’s offer was very much the lesser of two evils.  

Still, it didn’t prevent him voicing the concern. “I feel like there’s something extra he’s gonna have us on the hook for further down the road.” Taking a deep drag on his cigarette, he turned to his president, brows furrowed, his head shaking softly. “I wanna back you, but I don’t trust him.”

Neither did EZ, if he was honest. “We don’t need to trust him. We need to make ourselves indispensable to him. The weight of his organisation has the power to break us completely, and I’d be an idiot if I didn’t see that, Bish. We gotta remember that he’s coming to us because he needs this symbiosis too. If he had any other plan to move his product, he’d have exacted it by now. What he’s offering us in payment solidifies that. He needs to lock the MC down.”  

He took a breath, his eyes once again focusing on the lights below. “And our backs are against the kind of wall we can’t break alone. Rocco Lombardi can not only break that wall, he can obliterate it completely. We can’t refuse.”

Upon their return to Santo Padre, an immediate templo was called, the proposition repeated, a vote cast. It was, just as EZ had anticipated, a unanimous yes. Hell, it wasn’t like any of the men assembled around the table hadn’t known that extreme danger was exactly what he was signing up for, and this was about a risky as it got.

Moving heroin two tons at a time for the mafia was the height of hazardous endeavours, but the payoff would elicit the kind of money and power they had been striving for. Sure, they were still ultimately under someone else’s thumb, but in the world of the MC, Santo Padre rose like the phoenix from the proverbial ashes. If they were careful and exercised caution, they would remain risen, too.  

The operation was undertaken with military precision. The two tons of heroin were moved through the tunnels from one side of the border to the other, then stowed away down there for a day before the Mayans arrived, loading one ton into each van. The vehicles both then hit the road, two members within, two members upon motorcycles escorting at the front and rear, and EZ leading the way.  

They drove far enough apart not to attract the attention that such a closely assembled convoy likely would, with EZ a quarter of a mile in front, so he could warn of any upcoming complications that might lead to said convoy needing to peel off the freeway. Since the run was done at 2am, the risk of such was minimised greatly, yet still they always prepared for the worst-case scenario. This is why two vans were utilized, when all it truly took was one. If one broke down, then there they were, stuck with a life sentence cargo on the side of the freeway, rather than another means to continue their journey.

Arriving at the port, EZ gave the usual nod to the guard, a guard whose pockets had been nicely lined with mafia cash, who would duly send another of his team down to the container as soon as the Mayans left, standing guard until the cargo was loaded onto a vessel bound either for New York or the far east the following morning. Yes, the tentacles of Rocco Lombardi even reached over to the Yakuza, the Japanese criminal organisation taking two tons of product off his hands on a bi-monthly basis.  

The shipment they were about to offload on that particular night was heading straight back to New York, the guys all assembling, the usual banter firing back and forth.  

Downer, of course, was at the epicentre of it. “Hey, I thought there was meant to be whores on the dockside? That’s a thing, ain’t it? We’ve been here four times before now and no damned pussy anywhere.”

Angel lit a cigarette, raising his eyebrows. “Man, where the fuck you get that from?”

“He’s right,” Hank chimed in, “but about a couple hundred years out of date. Hookers used to frequent the docks back in the eighteen, nineteen hundreds. Gave lots of navy men who’d been at sea for months at a time a rampant case of the syph.”  

Guero couldn’t help himself. “Eighteen hundreds. Back in your youth, huh bro?” He was shot a look of pure distain from Downer, his chirp continuing. “I bet you’d like the crotch rot. You’re a sick enough individual to probably be into it.”

“It’s his kink. Itchy balls and a putrid cock, man,” Bottles interjected with, earning a snort laugh from Guero and an incredulous stare from Downer.  

Aggressively delivered middle fingers were raised. “Fuck you and fuck you even fuckin’ harder!”

Bottles grinned at the rise he’d gotten. “You wish.”  

“You’re getting way too smart with that fuckin’ yap of yours, prospect,” he snorted, pointing at Guero. “Been spending too much time with him and his big mouth.”

The man himself beamed, pulling his hood up. “What can I say?” He held his arms in wide expression, his smirk growing. “I’m infectious. Like your cock, just way less scabby.” He received a boot in the ass as he turned, heading straight over to the yellow container and hauling the levers to open it. What he expected to see within were the usual lines of packing cases into which they would load their cargo, with a specially marked one housing their cash.  

The last thing he expected to see was the body of a dishevelled looking blonde girl with a gash upon her head, lying there out cold, and the marked case notably empty of its usual stack of bills.  

“Uh, guys?” he called, appearing back around the container door as his brothers were carrying cargo across from the vans. “We got a situation in here.”  

[meenatranslates]

[SR] Sakyo | Courier Rabbit

Those brats... I’ve told them to do it seriously, but this is some crazy instruction. I’ll give them a lecture after this.

__________________________

All-out Easter Etude! - Part 1

__________________________

*Director's default name as Izumi

―Entrance (Night)―

Izumi: I’m home~.

Sakyo: Oh, you just came home too, huh.

Izumi: Yeah! Good work for today, Sakyo-san.

―(Lounge)―

Sakyo: We’re back.

Kazunari: Welcome home~.

Izumi: What’re you all doing here?

Sakuya: We’re doing preparations for Easter event!

Sakyo: Oh, the one that Miyoshi proposed?

Kazunari: Yeah, that one! It’s kinda tiring to prep for it tho, cuz there’ll be tons of different games~.

Izumi: Are you guys making easter eggs?

Azami: Kinda, but not really. The egg inside has a piece of paper with instruction written on it.

Izumi: Instruction?

Kazunari: I call this game, “Simon Says Easter Eggs Hunt”!

Sakyo: What kind of game is that?

Sakuya: It’s like a scavenger hunt. The contestants must pick up an egg and follow the instruction written on the paper inside.

Taichi: Sakyo-nii will be the rep of Autumn Troupe for this contest!

Sakyo: What? Since when did you decide on that?

Azami: You weren’t there for the event selection ‘cause you had some errands to do. You even said it yourself, “Go ahead and decide for me”.

Sakyo: Oh, that time... It’s my bad for not listening but you should’ve told me if you’ve decided already.

Taichi: Sorry, Sakyo-nii!

Izumi: It doesn’t seem like there’s that much progress though...

Sakuya: Actually, we all had trouble coming up with challenges to write on the paper.

Kazunari: We need some decent amount of them~.

Azami: And it won’t be good to have many identical ones too.

Sakyo: Perhaps it’d be better to go for a different direction that’s not too biased and easy to think about.

Izumi: Oh, how about writing a theme for an etude? It might be a bit different from an instruction though.

Sakuya: That’s a good idea!

Taichi: It’s fitting for us actors!

Azami: Etude themes... Anyone got any idea?

Kazunari: Here, here! I just thought of one!

“A person who frantically waves his hand for a taxi in a heavy rain at midnight, but the taxi is actually a police car”!

Sakyo: What the hell...

Sakuya: That’s very sad...!

Azami: How surreal.

Taichi: But thanks to Kazu-kun, we’ve got some idea of the direction! We just gotta think of themes like that!

Kazunari: Alrighty~, I’m gonna come up with lots of ideas~!

Sakyo: You better not just think of weird stuff.

__________________________

All-out Easter Etude! - Part 2

__________________________

Taichi: What about this one!

“A rabbit who is wary of the surroundings to monopolize its favourite carrot”!

Izumi: Nice, you included an Easter element!

Sakuya: Mine is... “An Easter egg who is sad for not getting any paint”. How is it?

Kazunari: Super interesting, Saku-saku!

Oh! I got one more idea... “A frog who wants to be reborn as a boba”!

Azami: Are we having a surreal story fest now?

Sakyo: ...Cut that out, you brats. Take this more seriously, will you!

Taichi: Eek! I’m sorry~!

Sakuya: We didn’t mean to play around...!

Kazunari: I guess it’d be a problem if we put any strange themes in this game since Frooch-san’s gonna be in it~.

Sakyo: That’s not what I meant. If it’s etude, we’ll do it seriously. I’m just telling you to think more properly.

Azami: Properly, you say... In that case, an interesting theme that we don’t usually see might be better.

Sakyo: Hey, what’re you up to now?

Azami: Nothing.

Izumi: Now, now. You don’t have to be that angry.

🌸CHOICE 1: Make the event more exciting

They just wanna make the event more exciting, that’s all.

Sakyo: I know that.

But what if the game stops because the contestants have difficulty with a theme like the one just now?

They’d be sluggish and everything will be a mess from that point onwards.

Izumi: Sakyo-san...! I thought you weren’t that interested in the Easter event but you’re very serious about it!

Sakyo: What? Well, I gotta do it properly since I’m going to participate in it.

Izumi: Fufu, I’m kinda happy to know that you’re also enthusiastic about this.

Sakyo: Hmph, I’m not so keen on it though.

🌸CHOICE 2: Sounds interesting, count me in!

Izumi: It sounds interesting, so I’ll try coming up with a theme too. Let’s see...

How about, “A person who’s happy after they open an Easter egg and find a curry rice in it”?

Sakyo: You’re the only person who’d be that happy about it.

Izumi: EHH?! I don’t think that’s true though...

Sakyo: Heh, yours are probably the most surreal out of all.

―The day of Easter eventー

Manager: The next game is “Simon Says Easter Egg Hunt”! Which is also an “Etude Game”!

Masumi: I’ll show her my good part.

Tenma: I’m gonna win this.

Homare: I’m very looking forward to seeing what kind of etude themes will pop out!

Manager: We’ve got quite a unique group of members here!

Sakyo: Guess it’s time for me to play now.

Omi: Do your best, Sakyo-san.

Juza: We’re rooting for you.

Taichi: Go, go, Sakyo-nii~!

Manager: Well then! On your marks, get set... Go!

Sakyo: Guess I’ll go with the egg that’s closest first. Let’s see what’s inside-.

......

Manager: Oh? Looks like Furuichi-san is frozen in place after seeing his paper. Sir, please read out loud your theme~!

Sakyo: ...“Sakoda Ken, who’s eating a fried shrimp set meal”.

Taichi: Whaaat! He’s gonna act as Sakoda-san?!

Banri: Pfft, the heck? That’s more of an imitation rather than an etude.

Juza: Who put that theme in...?

Azami: I wrote it thinking it’d be funny if Shitty Sakyo pulled it, but I didn’t expect for him to actually get it. I should film this.

Sakyo: ...So that’s what this is.

Manager: Quite a difficult theme there! What will you do, Furuichi-san?!

Sakyo: I’m an actor, so I’ll give my all to act it out.

Azami: Wow~.

Sakyo: You better watch me closely, you brats...

―After the etudeー

Banri: Oh, man~. If there’s MVP for this game, it’d be Sakyo-san for sure.

Azami: Yeah, that acting of his was the best. Bet Ken-san would cry if he saw it himself.

Right, I should send him the video that I took.

Sakyo: Stop it, don’t let the guys from Ginsenkai see that.

Azami: I’m the one who took the video, so it’s up to me how I want to use it. Anyways, gotta send it to Ken-san first.

Sakyo: Dammit...

Izumi: Great work, Sakyo-san! You were really impressive as an actor!

You were just like Sakoda-san!

Sakyo: ......

Izumi: Um, Sakyo-san? What’s wrong?

Banri: I’m sure that was meant to be compliment but that ain’t it for him, Director-chan.

Izumi: Huh?

Sakyo: ...Not happy at all.

Story Clear!

[s-milesart]

Ashes to ashes. Memories, to dust. | Heartsink.

An old etching, charred but cherished.

Sanctified memories of easier days - of decidedly droll monastic toil and blessed children who deserved smothering love.

She would bear the worlds cruelty ten-fold to return to those days - but alas, days like those are gone.

Not forgotten.

--xXx--

"It is days like these, when my mind starts to wander. The quiet days, Agnes. Where no raiders threaten the poor souls of the fields, or where unholy abominations shake the land to it's core."

My mind yet wanders -- to days of quiet. Where most of my worries were whether or not I should hold myself more to the teachings of Her good book, or what should be made for dinner that night.

Did we get another shipment of carrots?

Ach, did the children have enough to eat that day? Especially with little Mary -- her sensitivity to the textures of what she eats vexes her so. She just cannot stand any fresh fruits we receive. She likes her things... Mushy. Makes quite a mess!

A donation that day? Oh! A noble from the Upper Blocks was here to drop off some sweets. I know that wonderful smell... Yes! Apple and Blackberry Jam Twists! The kids will love these so. I just hope She, Above doesn't mind if I sneak one or two...

More prayers today. Mother Superior believes we need as many blessings as we can get these days. I always pray for the children.

Andrea's eyesight grows poorer every day, and I fear we not have enough to get her a pair of glasses. And little Marcel, his education grows by leaps and bounds -- but we must find a scholar willing to take on an apprentice! A sharp mind like his needs a whetstone, after all.

The twins got into another fight today. Hellions, the both of them. I understand they both cannot ride the swing at once, but to have such a scuffle over it? I will talk to both of them tomorrow, when they've both cooled off. I might even surprise them with a slice or two of pie. But...

Something is... Wrong. I don't know, but even the children are starting to notice it. The well-water is starting to turn. I haven't heard the songs of the birds in the mornings. The Watch is telling citizens to avoid blocks in-case of... disappearances. Vivienne is even telling the kids to stay off the streets. Troublemaker she is, she's even cutting her courier services short to help around The Orphanage.

Even my dreams are starting to turn.

I hear it. Below us. An abhorrent thudding that keeps beat with itself. A siren call of evil. The pumping of blood to something that should not live. A cacophony of vile beasts, assembling themselves to make us all suffer. To make us all bleed.

And a vision, clear as day. The city, cracked open, rivers of blood pouring into its caved in ribs.

Screaming, endless screaming. A choir of suffering that never seems to quiet.

A sinkhole in our center, a pit of absolute hell spewing ash into the air. The sun, blotted out, day choked dark to signal the end.

An earthshattering beating, every pulse sinking more and more of the city into it's cavernous maw. And deep below... In the true center beats...

A Heart.

Goddess above, what is going o--

A cry. Looks like little Lucy is awake again. In the here and now. She's growing up awful fast. I keep her in my room, just in case. I glance at the photo on my dresser. A window into a past I still yearn for. But, alas.

I cannot have it. But Goddess above, I will fight for something like it. For the children.

[sicc-nasti]

About the courier’s horse cosmetic, can you explain why you chose it?

30 years later and I finally answer this, my apologies So obviously, Courier's whole schtick is that he's a mailman, right? Well, there was a famous method of mail delivery in 1860-1861 America called The Pony Express! Despite having only operated for a short time, I think a lot of people still associate it with mail delivery. It's just kind of iconic! The history of it is really fascinating too. So I think it would be the perfect cosmetic for The Courier. But of course, he's gotta have it in Team Fortress 2 style eheh. I like to imagine after a long day of battle, Medic approaches Courier and mentions "I think I know how to make your deliveries 5% faster! I could help make you fast like a horse!" And of course, Courier is all here for that idea! Doc's done some questionable thing but the results are always there, so he agrees! And wakes up with literal horse legs. And ears. And tail. And cravings for carrots and sugar cubes. But hey, after ya get used to em, it does feel like he's faster! Right?

This was really fun to do!! I'd love to answer any other asks about Courier if y'all got em!! I love this dork so much aaaaah Also fun fact; Courier is wearing a red bow cuz he kicks!

[deepest-dope]

i know i said that i was done horse posting but what i meant was actually that i was done posting about great khan horses. im gonna talk about horses with jobs now, the fine horses employed under the mojave express. i think they have horse insurance as one of the benefits they offer among other things, like making shooting you technically a crime. you can either sign up for one of the companies already tamed and insured horses after a certain length of time working for them and getting it approved by your immediate superior and the mojave express will handle everything from choosing the horse for you getting it a full set of gear complete with a feedbag and waterskin just for the horse to training you if you dont already know how to ride and then at any outpost they will have a stable set up complete with enough water and feed to care for the horse there and restock for the road. they also have horse veterinarians to care for your horse. this is getting kind of long so under the cut for the rest

OR if you already own a horse or have the skills to catch and tame one you can bypass the application process and just get your horse insured under the company policy and access all of the above amenities. the main benefit to this is not having to deal with whatever horse the company assigns you but if for any reason your horse dies on the job the company will replace your horse the same way they would one of their own with some paperwork of course. or you can always go through the process of finding your own and registering it with the company again. i think this is what cave did for his horse, the great khans let him sit in on micro's horse lessons when he could so he knows how to catch, break, and train a horse with a decent amount of skill, though he only really knows how to ride bareback. the khans didnt have a kit to spare for him. jessup still cares for the horse cave was trained on, it wont let anyone else ride it and barely tolerates jessup caring for it. caves great khan horse is a huuuge bitch, one of those mares if you know what i mean. a chestnut mare. she has ane extra eye in the middle of her forehead to enhance her judging stare. she doesnt really have a name, cave didnt want to get TOO attached to her, so shes mostly referred to either as chestnut or insults because of her less then stellar temperament.

the horse cave has registered under the mojave express is one he caught after his relationship with jessup took a turn for the worse. a spotted gelding named polkadots only because cave had to put a name for the horse on the mojave express insurance paperwork. polkadots was not a gelding before cave caught him, cave did the gelding himself actually. the great khans didnt even really teach him how he just watched one of them geld a horse, learned why, and copied what that khan did from memory. polkadots is a total lovebug for some reason, like weirdly affectionate for a wild caught horse, cave thinks it might just be an escaped horse or something hes that sweet on people. all of caves coworkers at the mojave express loved polkadots, especially johnson nash and his wife. they all spoiled the fuck out of polkadots with mutfruit and carrot treats. polkadots is super duper closely bonded with cave though, primarily because they had to get trained by the mojave express to work with a saddle and other such gear together. cave tries not to spoil polkadots as much as everyone else at the express outpost does, he doesnt really succeed. he takes better care of polkadots then he does himself really, the only reason he doesnt skip meals to feed it is the free horse food alloted to couriers like him. jessup steals polkadots after looting cave's not-quite-dead body of everything of sentimental value. polkadots doesnt really hold this against him and for some reason that makes jessup feel waaay guiltier. oh shit forgot polkadots has a 5th leg on his side, he doesnt really use it, he actually tucks its up under himself when running but he can use it to brake himself akira slide style.

[harveylembecks]

I posted 1,948 times in 2022

229 posts created (12%)

1,719 posts reblogged (88%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@davitasharp

@miseryannie

@harveylembecks

@detectivehole

@gummycore

I tagged 1,066 of my posts in 2022

Only 45% of my posts had no tags

#wise fuzz - 190 posts

#seinfeld - 171 posts

#brba - 67 posts

#star trek - 63 posts

#fav - 41 posts

#jerma - 31 posts

#goncharov - 24 posts

#prev - 19 posts

#get smart - 18 posts

#byte - 14 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#if george could get pregnant we would've had at least one episode in like season 9 where he fakes being pregnant for some convoluted reason

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

colgate comedy hour september 21, 1952

58 notes - Posted July 10, 2022

#4

what does benny feel when the courier walks into caesar's tent? surprise? fear? hope?

221 notes - Posted August 30, 2022

#3

the grand nagus approving of quark and yaoi (odo's name if he was named yaoi)'s relationship would be like "i see no difference. quaoi couple. normal couple. lobe is lobe"

275 notes - Posted March 11, 2022

#2

jerry it was you. you're the seinfeld. this post is nothing

2,322 notes - Posted February 22, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

leaves my baby carrot in the hummus like a stubbed-out cigarette

4,944 notes - Posted March 8, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[deyzalee]

Dear God,

Thankful and blessed today. All is well after my 25 hours duty. I arrived home safely. I cooked my food which is sausage and I ate it with one slice of brown bread and tomato for breakfast. I played cooking fever. I had my self and skin care routine. I drank my vitamin and medicines. I also talked to Param if She will get the shoes but it doesn’t fit her. So I returned it to the courier and temu and luckily I got the refund. I slept until 6PM plus with the help of my alarms. I scrolled my social media accounts, chatted my family and friends. I ate rebisco biscuit, cashew nuts and drank carrot shake with chia seeds for my dinner. I played cooking fever again. I watched random videos on Youtube and Tiktok. I ate one dates and drank green tea. I read few pages of the Bible. I will do self and skin care routine. I will drink my medicines. Have mercy on us Oh God. Guide us always to the right path. Remove sickness, danger and negative things in our life. Answer our prayers in your perfect time. Thank you and I love you God.

[tlhgeek-blog]

New Vegas New Problems Session 2

After deciding to make the patrol station a temporary camp the group split up to go about various attempts at foraging and hunting for food. Chao-Chao and Charlie found a bounty of Brain Fungus and wild carrots in the shade of a rocky outcrop, while Vesper found a ripe batch of prickly pear cactus. Vesper’s attempts to harvest the prickly pears were successful however not without Vesper managing to pull a pod of the cactus directly onto themselves. Which while painful and embarrassing was not a serious injury.

Wanda reviewed and stored the loot they recovered from the raiders while Roy kept watch. Wanda quickly realized that they found no signs of a food or water supply. At which point she decided to search in the nearby garage for the patrol station, a separate smaller building from the rest as well as checking in the scattered cargo containers behind the patrol station. While the containers were either empty or sealed shut by centuries of rust and wear the caravan was able to break into the garage. 

There they found the rather limited supply of food and water the bandits had stashed away. The food stash consisted of a handful of boxes of Sugar Bombs, Blamco Mac & Cheese, some canned dog food, a tin of potato crisps and a sealed pack of gum drops. The ‘water’ supply consisted of 3 unopened bottles of beer. Wanda also found a first aid kit half-buried between 2 of the rusted shut containers.

The night watch was uneventful though in the morning the caravan discovered that the raider bodies they had dumped downwind of the station had been chewed on by a variety of wasteland critters.

The caravan continued to travel up north to Primm while Wanda fiddled with the radio tied to Moo-lasses the Brahmin. While Radio New Vegas had a strong signal the various NCR radio stations degraded into static out in the Mojave. The only other coherent station Wanda found was Mojave Entertainment Radio which played catchy but loud and distracting music that according to the Host all came from the same pre-war rock band. Wanda decided to swap back to Radio New Vegas for now as the music variety and news was more pleasant to listen to as they walked down the crumbling pre-war highway.

Primm was a lively little town mostly focused on the 3 businesses that kept it relevant. The Vikki & Vance Casino was a small taste of the gambling and drinking available  in the New Vegas Strip. The Bison Steve Hotel provided a much desired place of rest and relaxation on the long trek from New Vegas to the Hub and vice versa.  Lastly the local dispatch office for the Mojave Express courier service was a vital business that continued to bring trade and caps into the community even outside of ‘tourist season’.

The Vikki & Vance Casino was the first port of call for Charlie and a reluctant Vesper that Charlie enthusiastically dragged along. After converting some caps and in Charlies case NCR dollars into chips, Charlie gave Vesper some dubious guidance on how to gamble and play Blackjack. After seeing Vesper win a few hands Charlie happily wandered off to play the slot machines.

Vesper excused themselves and cashed out immediately after Charlie wandered away. Charlie played for several hours until his winning the jackpot on his machine also resulted in it jamming and sparking violently. After which he was politely asked by the floor manager Gerard Stevens to leave for the day until they could investigate and repair the slot machine.

Wanda, Roy and Chao-Chao stabled Moo-lasses in the safe area inside the ruined roller coaster behind the Bison Steve Hotel. Wanda arranged for two rooms for the caravan as well as a few showers for herself, a pricy luxury but one Wanda was eager to indulge in. The Hotel offered reasonably priced meals with a complimentary glass of clean water. It also offered security safes and a working laundry service. 

In the process of gaining the service the Proprietor Old Laurie mentioned concerns over some rough characters that she had to kick out that came from up north and left the same way. She also noted they had what looked like partial NCR Uniforms so they might be deserters or raiders that took out NCR troops.

Wanda spent little time in the Casino however she did decide to make her way over to the Mojave Express Dispatch and after speaking with Johnson Nash she decided to sign up as a courier as well. After a simple test Wanda received a provisional couriers certification and was informed she would have to speak to the Mojave Express Headquarters in New Vegas. Mr. Nash also mentioned that there is one other Mojave Express Dispatch Office active outside of Primm and New Vegas. That being the one in Searchlight another NCR settlement. There used to be one in Boulder City but it was destroyed in the fighting there between the Legion and the NCR.

After staying a few days and Charlie winning enough to get banned from gambling at the Vikki & Vance Casino the caravan left heading north. Vesper also noticed that Loretta his pet Nightstalker was eerily sneaky and seemed able to keep out of sight from the locals.

 Unfortunately a dust storm came rolling in about halfway between Primm and Jean Aviation, a pre-war abandoned airfield. The group began hustling towards the airfield in hopes of finding shelter from the storm. Chao-Chao became distracted from tracking his elevation as he flew higher to attempt to see in the storm, resulting in Vesper losing track of them and walking directly under the jet holding Chao-Chao aloft. This set Vespers hair on fire and while quickly put out in the wind and dust left a foul smell, frizzled hairs and a small temporary bald spot on the top of Vesper's head. Despite that distraction the party did spot figures ducking into the handful of ruined buildings in the airfield.

The ‘Pickles’ Caravan now has to contend with trying to get out of the storm while dealing with possibly hostile individuals in the various buildings. We shall see how they fare next time in New Vegas, New Problems. 

[expfcultragreen]

"Women who live in houses that look abandoned are more susceptible to crime" rape threat posed as friendly reminder.....if you dont keep your lawn mowed, young lady, youll get raped.....by someone

Maybe she's armed? Maybe she's trying to lure them in. Maybe she does your job for you. Everyone knows cops dont actually gaf about rape and are rapists, lol

Anyway beg the souls of your slain animal friends to avenge themselves on the real perpetrators, the shithead nazi bureaucrats who want grass to be short, and the cops who courier these memos around with glee, pleased as punch to be paid for doing the worst job

So much for the privileges of being a homeowner. Imagine playing ball as a worker under capitalism all this time, your whole life, and finally biting the big carrot, and out crawls a pig with a paper that says fuck you. Why even bother? Kill the pigs, burn the townhall 🤷 fuckm!

The grass cutting obsession is a neurotic affliction of the diseased fash mind, i see it over and over, the worst people care about lawns/lawns "needing" to be kept short

Imagine all the glorious meadows on earth that they cant control, full of a million fiiiiiiiilthy little aaaaanimals they cant kill, oh how it must choke them that they cant mow it all down

These are typically the same people who want to socially sanction women who dont shave their bodyhair (and im sure youll get raped if youre unkempt........by them) and want to legislate loss of abortion access so people cant throw away their rape babies

When i mow the lawn i heap curses upon the langley city workers who enforce lawn bylaws and ignore questions about planting bed legality......every little creature and random plant losing its life i ask to take it out on the people who made me when i otherwise wouldnt have. As a captive of the matrix in the interests of destabilizing nazism, my options are limited...i lose housing if the landlord is fined because of the beautiful wildflower garden not being brutally ruined according to nazi whim

Love people not believing in magic....imagine how criminalized I'd be if they did...its almost like, magic is real and everyone is told it isn't so they dont do spells and dont worry about what spells other people are doing, because at least that way, most people are patsies who leave wizards alone instead of thinking too hard and freaking out. I mean, if anyone can accuse anyone of having precipitated some physically remote and unrelated event............spooky action at a distance, anyone? Where will it end, if

But, most of the world is religious, and religious people surely do believe in magic. So interested by secular society.....if most people arent secular how did it get agreed that secular humanism was how the majorty of global players nationwise operate, at the level of law. The religious majority all believe in prayer but its not illegal to pray against someone because legally prayer is meaningless. Who set all that up? Fascinating stuff really

If the creatures in my yard are my pets and your job is to make me kill them because i cant spot them all before i mow, what of fairness? What of your pets? What of your life?

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Saturday 24 August 1839

7 35/..

10 40/..

fine morning F64° at 8 50/.. – breakfast over at 10 an had had our master of the house and courier and engaged the latter from today at 3 dollars Banco a day – his name..... Winter – Andrew Bergland engaged with another family the Winns, I suppose – had paid Gross for 4 days Sunday Monday Tuesday and Wednesday last at 3/43 Banco per day and had paid off William Riddle 58DB. including [1] dollar for his little book i.e. 3 dollars a day for the 8 days of journey and up tonight and the day and 15DB. for his passage home and 15DB. for his 5 days of return = 58DB. all this took till 11 ¼.

Engage Jean Winter at 3DB. per day

August Saturday 24 William Riddle recommends the carrossier Russening corner of Lille Nygaten [Lilla Nygatan] in the city (that opens on to the water) out at 11 35/.. took Gross and our new courier Jean Winter engaged a little carriage like the one we had from Götheborg [Gothenburg] to be 2 dollars Banco per day hired from today inclusive at the musée de l’histoire naturelle at 12 25/.. two entrance tickets 24/. skillings

Fossil specimens very nice – part of the matrix stone remaining about them –

Gymnotus Electricus (electric eel?)

(Real Greenland boat

mustela erminiea [Hermelisi-Weslan hanne]

different specimens of – from Helsingland [Hälsingland]and Jemptland [Jämtland] white with black tipped tails, 2 tails ditto with rather coloured (not all turned white) bodies

Sciurus (ekorre) squirrel

Lutra (utter hanne) otter

Castor (bäfva) beaver

mus (genus ra or mouse) stora Husrättan (common house rat)

salmo Esperlanus, smelt.

Salmo alpines (trout?)

Came away at 2 – came home direct – had our new courier – settled to be off to Upsala [Uppsala] at 3am tomorrow – wrote and sent Gross at 3 ¼ with note to ‘Messrs. Tottie and Arfvedson’ to cash a £25 circular -  dinner at 3 40/.. – Gross returned with the note unopened – Messrs. T. and A- [contoi]r shut – had up the master of our hotel – very civil – will lend us 200 dollars Banco with pleasure – dinner over 4 50/..  soup – a roast leg of little mutton (or lamb?) stewed carrots and fricasseed cauliflower, and 3 slices (not large) of rice cake or pudding – afterwards 2 pears – Gross bought 8 this morning at 1 sk. each – mealy and not good to my taste -

[diredigression]

My current goal. Oddly enough, no one else's made content on Courier Carrot yet ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[smajor-updates]

Scott replied to Lily Pichu on twitter!

[Image ID:

A cropped screenshot of a quote retweet by lily @/LilyPichu of a tweet by SMITE @/SMITEGame with a reply by Scott Smajor @/Smajor1995.

Lily’s quote retweet reads “I'm in smite woo!!!!”

SMITE’s original tweet reads “The Curious Courier Bundle contains the newest Chang'e skin, an Exclusive avatar, and extra Gems to spend! And to make it better? Curious Courier was voiced by the talented @/LilyPichu! twitch.tv/smitegame”. Attached is a digital painting of the new skin Lily voices, a woman with bunny ears on her head and a basket of different kinds of carrots on her back.

Scott’s reply reads “Lily you’re so cool!!!! 🤩❤️”.

End ID]

[diredigression]

2020 Creative Self Love!

I was tagged by @deacons-wig, thanks!

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 favorite  works (fics, art, edits, etc.) you’ve created this year and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you’ve brought into the world in 2020. If you don’t have five published works, that’s fine! Include ideas/drafts/whatever you like  that you’ve worked on/thought about, and talk a little about them instead! Remember, this is all about self-love and positive enthusiasm,  so fuck the rules if you need to. Have fun, and tag as many fellow creators as you like so they can share the love! <3

It’s too much pressure to pick my five favorites, and also a couple of these mayyyy have happened really late in 2019, but mid-2019 through now is basically all one year to me. I’m picking a pile that make me happy and am gonna try to show off all my OCs I love!

1. Carrot’s Ugly Christmas Sweater

The post for this shows off some of the artistic growth I made in my first weeks of teaching myself to draw, and I was able to get my chaos girl improved and colored for @badcowboy69​‘s party! I love that her sweater applies to her in three different ways, all of which are represented here. And her face and expression are so cute! I’m just really proud of this.

2. Aftermath

Oh the places you’ll go, with your eyes so wide

With your heart in your hand, and your sword at your side

Oh the mountains you’ll move, oh the tears you’ll cry

Oh the places you’ll go, little love of mine.

My poor Sole. I put her through so much, and most of my depictions are of her at her darkest and lowest. But this time I got to portray her as finally happy, fulfilled, at peace with all the shit her life has thrown at her. Not to mention badass General. This was one of my latest artistic endeavors after I’d been practicing for a few months, and while there are of course places I’m not satisfied with, I’m really happy with the improvement I made over those months.

3. That Lucky Old Sun

The first story that really established Carrot’s personality. She went from telling Doc Mitchell that she’d try not to get herself killed again, straight into running from a bunch of robots that she’d chunked a grenade at. She lucks into getting the power plant terminal running, and then gets so excited about pushing big red buttons that she fails to realize she’s activated the giant space laser and smoked an entire garrison of troops. Whoops. I’m not used to writing comedy, angsty stuff like Sole’s is more my forte, so Carrot has given me a really lovely change of pace.

4. What Do You Get When You Add a Poet and a Mentats-Buzzed Founding Pirate?

I can’t not include this one. 2020 gave me @glitchvault74​ and @falloutglow​ as friends, and along with them, Rig and Echo and the rest of their wealth of characters. And as my characters and world developed too...well, AUs were bound to happen. I had an absolute blast writing Rig Apollo into Soleverse, including more of that newfangled comedy stuff and stretching some poetry muscles that I haven’t used in years. Not to mention the mental stretch of writing another person’s OC (particularly one with such a...unique speaking style as Apollo), and also all the research I got to do on Greek mythology to sneak a bunch of references in.

5. Sanctuary

It was hard to choose a fifth, but I kept coming back to this one. One of my biggest gripes about the Fallout universe has been the lack of slice-of-life canon, the new songs and the new instruments that evolved over two hundred years, people being able to enjoy an evening together socializing and peaceful. I tried to imagine it here, three people only passably familiar with each other, under the weight of unimaginable pain, but trusting and joyous when given a reason to celebrate. I still get the lyrics I wrote for the song in here stuck in my own head on occasion. And Sole’s reactions to the fire and the sky are taken straight from my own memories of chilly nights around a bonfire.

[shalebridgecradle]

fic: dreaming of dragons

Author: Tyraa Rane / shalebridgecradle Rating: G

744 words on the subject of dragons, for @tes-summer-fest.

The door to the Frostfruit swung open and then shut again as Sissel sprinted in, making eddies in the dirt Erik had just swept. She waved to him as she darted around the embered firepit and into her customary seat at the counter. “I had another dream last night.”

Behind the counter, elbow deep in vegetables for that night’s stew, Mralki chuckled without even looking up. “And a good morning to you.” He pushed a few unpeeled potatoes and the spare paring knife across to her. “Britte turn into a skeever again?”

“No,” Sissel managed around a giggle. “It wasn’t that sort of dream.” In the next breath she picked up the knife and a potato. Small, delicate curls of potato skin dropped to the floor below her feet.

“Was it the one where you could walk through the air?” guessed Erik, his sweeping forgotten for the moment.

Sissel shook her head. “Not that one either.”

“You’ll just have to tell us, then.” Mralki lined up a trio of carrots and began to chop. “You’ve got so many dreams it’s hard to keep track of them all.”

She twisted back and forth in her seat before she answered. The potato dropped to the counter, newly shorn. “I dreamt about a dragon.”

Mralki’s knife hitched mid-cut, narrowly missing a finger. “A dragon, you said?”

“A dragon,” she confirmed, voice cheerful despite her own words.

Mralki shot his son a look over Sissel’s head, eyes narrowing. Erik turned his attention back to his chores. The broom moved so fast a puff of ash rose up at his feet. “A nightmare, then,” Mralki sighed, “brought on by travelers’ gossip. I told your da no good would come of it.”

Reaching for another potato, Sissel shook her head again, hard enough to send stray strands of her hair across her cheeks. “It wasn’t a nightmare because the dragon wasn’t scary. He lives up in the storm clouds, and he’s old and gray.”

“Old or no, a dragon’s still a dragon, sprout. There’s not a man or mer alive that wouldn’t be scared of one.”

In response, Sissel spun in her seat to face Erik, beaming, all gap-toothed and fading summer freckles. “You were there too, and you weren’t scared.”

Erik blinked at her for a long moment before matching her grin. “Well...of course I wasn’t!” His gaze darted to Mralki like a nervous twitch. “Who’d be scared of a dragon?”

“Anyone with an ounce of sense,” was Mralki’s inevitable, drawled reply.

“He wasn’t scary,” Sissel repeated. Her words were punctuated by deep grooves sliced into her most recent tuber. “He was old and sad. Like Jouane gets sometimes.”

“What does a dragon have to be sad about?”

Mralki snorted, his attention back on the carrots at last. “That it hasn’t eaten anyone in a while?”

“Maybe I brought him some bad news? Was I a...dragon courier?”

Sissel began to giggle again. “There’s no such thing, Erik.”

Erik held his broom before him like a staff, his chest puffed slightly. “Well, maybe I’m the first. Maybe I’ll bring him a message that makes him less sad.”

Sissel took a moment to mull over the idea, humming tunelessly. The potato spun in her small hands, half-peeled and forgotten. “Maybe,” she agreed at last.

They lapsed into silence after that. Mralki pushed the carrots into the stew pot and turned his attention to the potatoes. Every now and then his glance darted to Sissel or Erik and then back to the other.

Erik had just opened the door to sweep the night’s dirt and ashes down the steps when Sissel spoke again. “The dark-haired lady was there again, Erik.”

Mralki looked straight to his son, who obligingly turned a shade darker than his hair, despite the cold draft stinging his cheeks. “What dark-haired lady?”

Sissel reached across the counter to a stray piece of carrot. She popped it into her mouth with a faint shrug. “The one in my dreams sometimes. She has a funny accent, but she’s always kind. I think you’ll like her.”

Mralki considered them both for an interminable moment. Erik still stood in the open doorway, fingers twitching against the rough wood of the broom handle. “Stop letting the cold in, Erik, and go and feed the hens.” Mralki pushed a few more potatoes Sissel’s way. “And you, sprout. You tell me more about this dark-haired lady, and what she’s got to do with dragons.”

[diredigression]

Carrot literally did this, sorry NCR

Tag your oc who would press all kinds of destructive buttons just to see what they would do.

You know the one.