#Like I think it would work better if his hair just didn’t have the colonial wig curls and he just… Had his hair in a ponytail with some-

[diverbots]

I honestly agree w you on the life weaver skins like- I'm sorry I get what they were tryna do but like....I HATE THEM SJSKBAKWNWKW HE LOOKS- I DUNNOOO THEY COULDVE DONE HIM SO MUCH BETTER THERES SO MUCH TO WORK WIIIITTHHH

Yeah??? At the very least I’m thankful that they supplied him with a different looking legendary skin cause Ram and Kir’s weren’t THAT different and they just wore different clothes from their default, but like, man… Though when I sit down and think on it more, I kind of do like the skin, and my only gripe with it is the hair. It just makes me think of this video.

[leqonsluv3r]

picnic date with Leon 🥺

love

re2!leon kennedy x f!reader

— a oneshot (request)

warnings: so much fluff it’s kinda gross, a little touching, mentions of sex, reader is female and uses (she/her) pronouns, leon is the best boyfriend ever and we love him for that, no physical description of reader except that she has hair, pet names (baby, sweet girl, etc.) based heavily on love by lana del rey (leon is lana coded bc i say so).

“she didn’t know what else to expect to her already worse work week, besides the papers that always seemed to pile up on her desk and swarm her like a colony of hungry bees. she hated her job, wanted to slap her boss and her co-workers. so how could this week get any worse? she thinks it will when her phone buzzes with a text from leon, only to find out if she wants to go on a picnic date this weekend. suddenly, her week just got better by a thousand percent.”

— or reader is having a terrible week and leon decides to spoil his favorite girl

an: thank you for the request, i loved writing something that wasn’t pure smut for once. did include a little seggsy tho (i can’t resist). gave my overworked brain a little vacation lol. i took your idea and ran with it, hope you enjoy <3

masterlist taglist

she actually hated her boss. hated him.

aside from spilling coffee on herself this morning before she left for the office, she had a thousand reports on her desks and emails flooding her work inbox. her boss went on a rant about her work performance and the fact that he was almost using his superiority as a manager to make her feel belittled was enough to send her blood pumping through her veins.

but mindlessly, she tried to get through her day. taking deep breaths and trying not to freak out on her boss. only did her day get worse when she overheard gossip in the break room.

“i hear she’s like some prude. her boyfriend only touches her when he’s drunk.”

she listens in on the gossip, pouring herself some coffee that hopefully won’t make its way onto her pencil skirt again. she wondered who they could possibly be talking about so openly in the middle of the day in the break room.

the other voice goes on, one of her coworkers that she knew from working here so many years, “that’s not true. i know her personally. she told me she’s waiting for marriage.”

her ears perk up at this, all the blood draining from her face, she knew they were talking about her now. her worst fears have been confirmed. she should’ve never stupidly trusted someone she worked with to keep such information about her relationship with leon, private.

she felt so stupid. but they kept going and she kept listening. the other women who she didn’t know opened her mouth again, “still, how much of a prude do you have to be to wait until marriage? like just fuck and get it over with already. unless he’s ugly…”

she feels anger rise in her like tsunami. leon? ugly? he could never be ugly. he was so fucking beautiful. how could this random woman even say that about her and her relationship without even knowing her? she kept her back turned and waited for the coworker she was more familiar with to say something.

“he’s actually quite a looker. shame she got her hands on him, if i had a man like that. i would fuck him until he couldn’t see straight.” she fisted her porcelain coffee cup with white knuckles, almost fuming and waiting for steam to pour out of her ears. jesus, she wanted to smack this woman silly, she considered them friends and now she was just so openly bragging to another woman of the company…that she wanted to fuck her boyfriend of two years.

she fumed and briskly left the break room with her coffee, slamming the door to the room shut behind her as she briskly walked back to her office, trying to keep up a demeanor that was professional and meanwhile she was seething on the inside.

she finally reached her office and went inside, slamming the door as she rounded her desk and sat her cup of coffee down on it. she leaned her elbows on her desk, burying her hands into her hands.

she wanted to cry, this week had been terrible and today was one of the worst out of all of them. and she needed to manage to get through it until after tomorrow.

thanking god it was thursday, one more day and she wouldn’t have to think of this place for a solid 48 hours. she took shaky breaths, trying to calm herself so she didn’t cry at her desk at work. she was still fuming from hearing that conversation in the break room about her personal life.

eventually, her phone buzzed on her desk and she looked down at her phone. she sighs and shakes her head, praying it’s not another report or upset client. she can’t handle anymore of that today, or this week for that matter.

she grabs her phone and looks at the contact, it was leon, she sighs in relief and smiles as she opens the text thread, looking at the screen.

LEON <3 : hey baby, just wanted to check in on my break. hope your doing okay, know it’s been a rough one for u.

besides wanting to cry at my desk all morning. first my boss says my reports are useless and utter shit. then i hear two of my coworkers gossiping in the break room about me like it’s no big deal. i hate this place, this week has sucked :(

LEON <3 : whoa, what? oh my god. are you okay? i know that’s so stupid to ask considering everything u just told me but…god. i’m so sorry.

no, i’m humiliated. i feel like stabbing my eyes out with my pencils at my desk. i hate this place, i hate everyone. minus u ofc <3

but seriously, i can’t wait to get through tomorrow and just be done with this place. even if it’s for two days.

LEON <3 : hmmm, that reminds me. do you still plan on coming over on friday night?

uhhh, yeah. considering i haven’t seen you all week. unless your canceling on me. which just makes me wanna cry more :,)

LEON <3 : oh god no, fuck that. i would never cancel on you baby. i just have an idea. and i was wondering if you would like it, considering how stressful and overwhelming your week has been.

i’m listening….

LEON <3 : you still come over on friday night, you pack a change of clothes and we go for a picnic on saturday. i know a good spot. and plus, im a good cook.

you don’t have to…

LEON <3 : but i WANT too. i wanna make my girl happy after having such an awful week. you need this baby. don’t bother arguing with me >:)

fineeee i suppose i could pack an overnight bag, stay the whole weekend at your place. go on a little picnic and ACTUALLY enjoy myself for once.

LEON <3 : that’s the spirit my love :). don’t worry, i’ll take care of you this weekend. don’t stress and don’t worry. trust in your amazing boyfriend ;)

you are an amazing boyfriend. don’t let that boost your already enormous ego though lol. god, i miss you so much. i can’t wait to see you. :,)

LEON <3 : you only have a little less then 48 hours to go before you see my handsome face again. don’t worry your pretty head baby, i’ll make you forget all about this week. spoil the absolute shit out of you. <3

okay, i gotta get back to work before my boss comes in to belittle me some more about phone usage at work :,). i’ll see you soon babe, i love you.

LEON <3 : see you soon beautiful girl, i love you too. gotta go bust some criminals lol. ttyl :)

she sighs in content, a lovesick grin on her features. she felt so much better, just talking to him through text even. it was enough to make her heart swell with love and forget all about the incidents this week.

she couldn’t wait to see him on friday night, then go on a picnic on saturday like he promised. she needed him like air sometimes. and he had been pulling shifts so frequently at the station that she barely ever saw him.

it sucked, yes. but when they did get to see each other it was absolutely worth it. she knew that he was gonna stay true to his word like he always did. make her happy, spoil her and make her forget all about her sucky week at work.

she loved him so much, it was almost consuming sometimes. overwhelming to think that before she met him two years ago, she had never known love or that men like him could even exist.

god, she was praying for this weekend to come sooner. and hopefully, it would.

eventually she made it to friday, she managed to get through the day, working as hard as she could. she dealt with clients, dodged the lecturing of her boss and the gossiping of her coworkers.

she slipped out early, not really giving a fuck because all her work was finished as far as she was concerned. she had better places to be. like leon’s apartment for example.

she had packed an overnight bag that morning, watered her plants and made sure she had everything. she had kept her overnight bag stored in her car just so when she got off work, she could head straight over.

she sent him a text that she was off and she was heading over early, putting the car in reverse and leaving her works parking lot.

she drove down the familiar streets and roads until she made it to leon’s apartment, parking her car in the guest parking spot. she got out, grabbing her overnight bag and everything else she needed as she locked the car behind her.

she walked over to the gate to enter the complex, typing in the numbers and once it buzzed, she opened it and let herself in. she made her way up to the second floor, walking over to where his apartment was. she slipped her key to his apartment, unlocking the door and slipping off her shoes.

“baby? you home?” she calls out as she drops her overnight bag by her shoes, dropping her keys on the coffee table. she looks around, she feels a buzzing in her hand where her phone is. she looks at the text from leon saying he was on his way home from his shift.

she sighed and looked around his apartment, looking down at the coffee table where she sat her keys in front of his couch. she saw something sticking out from in between the pages of a book he was reading. “what the…?” she opened the book and looked in the book.

a piece of paper with scribbled writing over it, leon’s from what she recognized. she started to read the crumpled up piece of paper.

[READER],

ever since i’ve known you, i’ve loved you. i’ve never wanted anyone more then i’ve wanted you. i’m not just doing this in the hopes you’ll say yes, i’m doing this with the intention that you’ll let me love you for as long as we’re both alive.

i’m not doing it like this to be cliche, i know how much you think im corny. how hard i try to make sure you’re not laughing at me (even though i love your laugh more than anything.) i want you to know that i love you. i always have, i always will.

with that, will you please do me the honor of being my wife?

it would be my greatest achievement as man, as your boyfriend and future husband if you’ll let me.

she feels her eyes well up with subtle tears, wiping at her eyes as she looked down at the crumpled up notebook paper with a small smile, even though the letter didn’t say much, it said enough.

this was just more then a simple picnic, she knew now. why he was so keen on taking care of her this weekend. taking her out for a picnic tomorrow. she can’t believe he wanted to marry her, she wasn’t shocked but she was…she wanted to cry. it was almost like a dream come true.

she was about to re-read the note to make sure she wasn’t dreaming until she heard the lock on his front door click. she scrambled to put the crumpled up piece of paper back into the book where she found it, effectively slipping it in and standing up straight just in time as he entered the door.

“hey, honey.” he says with a small smile, kicking off his shoes. he wore his police uniform still, all pristine in pale blue and navy. she swallowed and wiped at her eyes, “hey.” she shuffles towards him and wraps her arms tightly around him.

he noticed the sniffling and the watery eyes, he craned his neck down to look at her face that was pressed into his chest, rubbing his hands up and down her back in a soothing gesture.

“are you okay? your eyes are red.” he says softly, his voice dripping with such concern it just almost made her heart melt in her chest. she nods and squeezes her arms tighter around him, “i’m okay. i just missed you.” she lies a little, she did miss him, but that wasn’t the true reason for the red eyes.

“okay, baby. it’s okay though, we’re gonna have a good weekend and your not even gonna think about work.” he says softly as he continues to rub her back up and down in a gentle gesture, smiling down at her with a soft grin. she nods, “okay, i’d like that.” she says with her cheek pressed against his chest, sniffling.

she knew she wouldn’t think about work, work was the furthest thing from her mind right now. the only thing on her mind was the picnic tomorrow and the note she had found.

she knew he was going to purpose, she wasn’t even trying to snoop, but now she knew. she loved him even more for it. if that was even possible.

the next day, the morning light would peak through the curtains of leon’s bedroom window. it casted both of them in a glow that was more then just a simple glow of the morning but a new day.

she loves waking up beside him, especially today when the promises of their future hang right over her head. a promise that he’s intending to keep.

she rolls over onto him as he lays on his back, giggling as she does. she presses a small kiss to his chest and then makes a path up to his collarbone, pressing a kiss to his neck. she felt herself growing more aroused by the minute.

she wasn’t a virgin, she had dated plenty of shitty guys before leon. and it isn’t like she didn’t not want to have sex with him, they just decided to wait until marriage. but now that she knew he was going to purpose today, she forgot all about that little promise she made with him.

she presses her lips to his jaw, hearing him mumble something sleepily as she grins against his skin. she leans towards his ear, “wake up.” she mumbles as she moves her hips to sit on his covered dick in his boxers beneath the sheets. her panty clad frame gently moving her hips lightly against his as she adjusts.

she feels him slightly move again, moving in his sleep so she moves her hips more firmly on him again, feeling him grow harder against the fabric that separated them. he mumbles something and she pulls her face out of his neck, bracing her palms flat on his chest.

he slowly opens his blue eyes to meet hers, his dirty blonde hair messily on the pillow. she smiles down at him with a small grin, “morning sleeping beauty.” she chuckles as she leans down to his face and presses a kiss to his lips.

his half-asleep frame is still waking up and trying to wrap his mind around everything. “what are you doing?” he chuckles with a lazy opening and closing of his blue eyes.

“what does it look like im doing?” she says with a small smirk, moving her hips again. he had no idea where this was coming from, they had agreed to wait until marriage and now…

she was straddling his waist, her wet core on top of his morning wood, there were the barriers between them but still, he could feel everything. she tilts her head innocently at him, his blue eyes looking up at her, “why are you so…? what’s gotten into you?” he says with a small furrow of his brows as he leans up on the bed, his elbows propped up behind him.

she bites her lip and looks at him, “why am i what?” she says as she bats her eyelashes at him, feigning innocence. he struggles and takes a shaky breath, “why are you like…all over me? like, we didn’t…i thought you wanted to wait.” he manages to get out with another shaky inhale.

she sighs and rubs her palms over his chest, “i want you, i’ve waited long enough. married or not, i want you.” she says with a small look, letting his blue eyes latch onto hers. she needed him to know she was serious, that this mattered.

she knew he was going to purpose soon anyways, so what was the big deal? that’s what she thought anyways. she didn’t see it as this huge thing, it would be their first time together. but…she was ready.

“unless…your not?” she says with a small sigh as she looks down at him, her palms pressed flat on his bare chest as she looked down at him. he shook his head so fast, his hair flopping as he did, “no, i want it.” he replies as he looks up into her eyes.

“anything that you want from me, i wanna be able to give it to you. even this.” she hears him say as his blue eyes never stray from his gaze on her. she smiles widely and sniffles, “god, i love you.” she whispers as she leans down and presses a kiss to his lips.

it starts slow, his hands holding onto her waist as the kiss grows more intense and passionate. her hips moving against his erection. she doesn’t fear it now, not when she knows what will happen.

not when she can trust him. she knows he’s different, he’s not like the others. she wants to give him all of her, every single part. she wants to give him marriage, her soul, her body. she wants him to have it all.

so as the kisses and the touches escalate, she feels herself trusting in him, letting his love consume her body and mind in a way she had never known before. his kisses were like rain, falling on her skin and soaking there. his touch was like fire, spreading over her body.

it was beautiful, she couldn’t wait to have him with her forever.

the picnic was beautiful.

leon, really knew how to make her forget about her shitty work week. whether it be a picnic, their first time having sex together earlier that morning, or the proposal that has yet to happen.

he really outdid himself. just like he promised, he had cooked and packed a lunch for them by a small pond in a park. it was about a 20 minute drive from his place, how she never knew it was there, she had no idea.

it was beautiful, some swans were in the pond swimming around with their babies, made her smile and think of how leon had made this so perfect without even trying. he spread out a blanket for them, sitting the food down in the picnic basket.

she brushes her hands over her purple sundress, looking at him as he sat down and began to spread out the food for them. “wow, baby. you really thought of everything didn’t you?” she chuckles as she sits down next to him on the picnic blanket.

“of course, anything for my girl.” he says with a sweet smile in her direction as he gets wine out of the basket and two glasses. my girl…jesus, if he’s trying to make me melt, it’s working. she thinks as she watches him uncork the wine bottle, and pour them both red wine into the glasses.

“i know, you spoil me, leon. but still…” she trails off as she looks over at him, she reaches over the blanket and grabs onto his hand. she watches as the subtle breeze blows his dirty blonde hair over his blue eyes and his forehead.

he rolls his eyes playfully and scoots closer to her on the blanket, squeezing her hand back. “don’t argue with me. it’s in your best interest.” he says with a small lopsided smirk as he hands her one of the glasses of wine. she accepts and smiles back at him, sipping on the wine in her free hand.

“fine. i won’t.” she says with a small roll of her eyes, grinning at him as she swallowed the wine. letting it slide down her throat. they stayed in silence for a while, just enjoying the sounds of nature, the breeze that blowed softly and made the leaves rustle in the trees above them.

she let him dote on her a little more, still feeling that anxious bubbling in her stomach that had been occurring since last night. the note, the proposal that had yet to happen. she felt her body get amped up and she was trying not to give her hopes up.

she sipped on her wine, looking over at him as he stared off into the pond a little ways in front of them. she admired him like this, when he wasn’t looking at her. he was deep in thought, in his head and she could almost see the gears turning in his mind.

“thank you, leon.” she says as she snaps out of her daze of staring at him. she didn’t think she could ever not want to stare, admire him like a piece of art in a museum. he lets his head turn her way, looking directly at her, a gentle smile on his boyish features.

“no need to thank me. i wanted to do something special for you.” he says as he reaches across the blanket and rubs his hand over her bare knee. she nods and swallows more nerves, “i don’t need to thank you, but im going to anyways.” she giggles.

he just shakes his head with a teasing grin on his face, he doesn’t mind this. sitting here with her and knowing where it’s going. he almost feels like this can’t be real, sitting here with her. the weather’s perfect and this day is even better.

they continue to just sit together on the picnic blanket, eating and sipping on their wine. they just talk and snuggle up next to each other on the blanket.

eventually the sun starts to set, painting the sky in a beautiful pink and red hue. it almost looks like a painting and she watches it with almost admiration. he knows this is the time, the ring in his pocket burning a hole through his jeans.

she keeps her gaze trained on the sky, not even noticing that he’s staring at her with admiration. he swallows his fears, his nerves and everything that could potentially stop him from doing this.

“your so beautiful, you know that?” he starts as he looks over her features. her gaze only temporarily looking over at him, a blush coating her cheeks. this isn’t how he had planned it, but he’s gonna do this differently.

“of course you know that, i tell you all the time how amazing, beautiful and sweet you are. even to people who don’t deserve your kindness.” he says as his blue eyes stay trained on her, she smiles and bites her lip in bashfulness.

she knows something is happening, but she lets it happen. she doesn’t care…not if it’s a promise to make her happy for the rest of their lives.

“your the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he continues as he looks at her, turning his body a little towards her on the picnic blanket. the ring feels like an anchor in his pocket, keeping him tethered to the moment here with her.

“and i don’t think i’ll ever find anyone better then you, that’s honesty. your the best that’s ever going to happen to me.” he says as he looks deep into her eyes, her eyes blinking back at him as she feels her heart start to pound in her ribcage.

“and i would be a fucking fool if i went on another two years and didn’t show you how much you mean to me.” he says as he fists the ring in his pocket. she feels her heart swell and her eyes water. the smile spreading on her face is the rare kind.

“what are you…?” she says with a small look of disbelief on her face, her smile widening and the crystal of her eyes staring back at him.

he smiles with a small blink of his blue eyes that are now crystallizing over as well, he pulls his palm out of his pocket, opening it up between them to brandish a engagement ring.

she blinks her tears away, raising a hand over her mouth, trying to somewhat hide her shock. “leon…” she looks between the ring in his palm and then his eyes. this was much better then what was written on that crumpled sheet of paper.

“i love you so fucking much, i would do anything for you, to you and with you. only if you’ll let me, forever. please marry me. let me love you forever, let me wake up to you every morning. it would be the greatest honor i could ever have.” he says as he gestures the ring in his outstretched palm.

he looks at her with hopeful and love filled eyes as he does this. she doesn’t even have words, she expected it. but not like this…

this was definitely better.

and he was the love of her life, she couldn’t say no to him, not in a million years. she couldn’t dream of turning him down. of declining his proposal because he’s her happiness. even from two years ago when they met to now…

her body and mind want him the same, love him the same. she knows it will never change. not when it comes to him and just everything he does for her.

“yes…” she says as she sniffles away tears, feeling the breeze in the park billow her hair. the swans swimming idly in the pond in front of them. the sun setting in a beautiful sunset that paints the sky. he blinks at her, he doesn’t think he heard her right for a second.

“did you say…?” she laughs and looks at him, “i said yes. i’ll marry you.” she says as she feels more tears leak down her flushed cheeks. he smiles widely and grabs her hand shakily, his face coated in tears of happiness too.

he slips the ring onto her ring finger and strokes his thumb over her knuckles. he slides his free hand up to cup her jaw, rubbing the tears that slid from her eyes. “oh god, i love you.” he says in a trance as he looks at her.

“i love you too.” she says back to him, catching him in his trance of looking at her. she feels the ring on her ring finger, making its home there. she feels like she’s on cloud nine right now. he pulls her face towards him and presses a kiss to her lips.

she returns it and kisses him back, her hand, now ring clad, holds onto his face as she deepens the kiss. she doesn’t think she could ever be happier then she was right now.

in this moment with him. not a thing matters and her mind and body are full of him. she feels so consumed by him and his love that she can’t even explain it.

she’ll be wrapped in him forever and she can’t bring herself to care if she is. because at least she’s happy, happy and in love.

forever.

leons letter:

taglist: @heartsforvin

(go to this post to join the taglist, pls reblog and follow for more, my asks are open in my bio. i love you all <3)

[xxfan-fixx]

Tbh I really like the idea of Demi Alastor and the idea of an older sister Morningstar OC/reader who is a lot like Charlie and Lucifer.

She has natural dark blonde hair and slightly more wavy, has Lilith’s eye shape and teeth, Charlie’s nose, height, and eye colors, and Lucifer’s face minus the red cheeks. Unfortunately she feels self conscious that she looks more like Lilith than Lucifer so she uses make up to make it look like she has them; she grew up not having a great relationship with Lilith but she adores Charlie and Lucifer always tried to make her feel loved.

Even though she never really liked having her photo taken there’s a small handful of photos and portraits of her (she would try to bleach her hair to look like she’s more a part of the family; she has a random genetic from her other Angel relatives who have darker hair but since two blondes don’t make anything but blonde, she has dark blonde *gotta give her some kind of alienation*) Since they’ve been close since childhood, Charlie eventually tried to make her feel better about her natural looks but she still doesn’t like her absence of red cheeks. She tries to avoid being seen without them (make up) as much as possible.

She loves learning about earthly life. She’s really passionate about human history details like style, activities, food, dances, songs.. She acts as the hotel’s chef. (Another part of my thoughts on is inspired by a fanfic based on Alastor and Older sister Reader who admitted their feelings during a ball. *heart bursting*)

~*~(AND)~*~

I have an ‘in-the-works’ sinner OC who is kind of a secret Overlord (I think), who grew up with Alastor (best-friends who had hidden feelings for each other) and when Alastor died she took it out on his killer with her signature style of unaliving people; death by food poisoning. Except that she missed him so much that she decided to go join him by poisoning herself and making sure she went to sleep before the effects took over because she was afraid of the possible pain.

In hell they met up by Alastor “catching” her with his body. He was on his way to find his second victim, and she just so happened to fall out of nowhere on top of him. She didn’t look too different from her human form, so they had a nice reunion and they’d figure out their way together in hell, growing more powerful as a duo. Eventually becoming a couple before the events of Hazbin hotel.

She’d join him at the hotel (post pilot) and become a mother figure for the crew. She’d also be some sort of confidant like Husker, but by having people sit in the kitchen while she cooks or bakes and having them be taste testers or she’d make a batch just for them or a cup of whatever drink/shake (she doesn’t poison the food because she genuinely cares for people unless they give her a reason to be weary/ like Charlie she looks for the good in others). She’d also be the only one who Husker is ok with who’s a part of Alastor’s life. With Nifty she leaves her be but Nifty loves her and likes to help clean the kitchen.

She keeps souls under her similar to Alastor but they work at her restaurant in the cannibal colony district. It’s an ever changing restaurant style she uses her magic to turn into whatever she’s deciding for that week or month. With Mimzy she’s cordial but annoyed. On the other hand, with Rosie she adores her and helps her with whatever she needs. They go shopping and have lunches together either just the two of them or with Alastor as well. In the case of Alastor’s and Vox’s rivalry, she leaves them be.

Everyone knows she’s Alastor’s girl but they don’t dare to try anything. Just incase though; when she looked over at Charlie’s phone one day when she was showing her new recipes she likes it made her want to find more, so she received a modified smart phone from Charlie who somehow has Voxtech protection (a headcanon that I have is that Vox has tried to infiltrate Lucifer’s or Charlie’s phone before but they found a way to block him). Alastor is bummed she has modern technology but the only thing she really uses it is for her restaurant and recipes. She’s like a grandma in a 30 year old’s body; having to ask the younger ones for help on the phone. It’s adorable.

(Both OC ideas are based on working as the hotel’s chef) *lol thinking about the part in episode 5 with Lucifer singing “-now that you’ve got the chef” referencing himself but a quick pan to OC/reader with a half wtf/half whatever face* (also both inserts I named in my head Genevieve “Jenny” for short- I have no clue what the sinner OC’s last name would be tho-)

Genevieve “Jenny” Morningstar is such a cute name I think for an older sister insert *im squealing*

[stardustloki]

your focus determines your reality

"Remember, your focus determines your reality," Qui-Gon Jinn says to Anakin Skywalker.

Just weeks earlier, he said the same to another child, a less powerful child. A child that he leaves behind.

A fic inspired by Jod quoting Qui-Gon almost word-for-word in episode 5. In which a 10 year old Jod learns about the Force, and gets a slightly skewed picture of Jedi philosophy.

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Gen, Teen, No Archive Warnings, Qui-Gon's C- Mentoring, Angst, Some comfort in the middle, But unhappy ending, Jedi don't come back for people after all!

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Read on ao3 here or under the cut...

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The boy strolled nonchalantly along the grimy streets with his hands in his pockets. He couldn’t see too far ahead of him, not with all the smog and ash that always clouded the air, making his lungs itch slightly on even the best days, but he could see the careless offworlder well enough.

The man walked calmly and slowly ahead of him, stepping over trash and the occasional corpse - usually an animal’s - as if they didn’t bother him. So, if the boy hadn’t known better, he would have said that his ease marked him as another damned creature of the forgotten mining colony. However, he’d seen him earlier, chatting at one of the food stalls with his strange accent, parting easily with far too many newly-minted credit chips. And, even if he hadn’t noticed that, the way he was dressed, nothing like anything anyone wore here, would have given him away.

So, now he was tailing him, waiting for the opportunity to strike. He didn’t think he would have to wait long until the man went somewhere slightly more out of the way, and he knew he wouldn’t be noticed, he rarely was anymore. His stomach growled violently as he paced after him, but it hardly mattered in any case, after he’d swiped the credit chips from the man’s belt he would have more than enough money for food. Maybe even food with named ingredients this time.

He caught up with the long-haired man slowly, all the while keeping his steps even and his mind focused on how much he wasn’t really there, until eventually the man turned into a side-street and he ‘tripped’ into him with a muffled, “sorry!”, his hand darting towards where the man kept his money.

He just about managed to fling himself backwards, dodging out of the way of the man’s hand before it could grab him.

In the next second, he wasn’t so lucky. Tripping backwards over something he probably didn’t want to think about, his arms automatically flung out to steady himself and his left wrist was encased in an iron grip, hauling him upright and back towards the man.

His eyes widened and his heart clenched, but the shock was greater than the fear. How? The man should have been slow, and his own reaction times were far better than anyone else he knew. There was no way he should have been able to move that quickly.

He flicked his head up to look at the man, opening his mouth to try and convince him of his innocent intentions before he decided to punch him in the head - or worse - for his thievery. In the second before he met his eyes, he was hopeful that it would work; he was good at bringing people round to his way of thinking, he knew he was, but when he saw the sparkle of the man’s blue eyes in his grinning face, his words died on his tongue.

Something about those eyes told him there was no way he would be wriggling his way out of this.

“Impressive,” the man said, still smiling in a way the boy felt sure was deliberately designed to lower his guard. “You must be at least mildly force-sensitive to have evaded me that quickly. Might I ask your name?”

He had no idea what the man had meant, but he answered anyway. “Greebo.”

The man raised his eyebrows, unimpressed but still amused. Anyone else’s amusement at him didn’t usually bode well. Though… he didn’t feel that prickly feeling he felt before danger. He shook his head internally - he should be trusting cold, hard logic, not his instincts, however good they might usually be.

“Your real name, please.”

So, he put on his most convincing tone, and stared right back at the man. “Jod na Nawood,” he replied evenly. 

It wasn’t his real name, but it was the one he thought might be his favourite at the moment, and it sounded like the kind of name a normal person might have. The kind of person that had actually been given a name. Well, technically, Jod might have been given a name, he just didn’t remember it, just like he didn’t remember his parents beyond the vaguest of flashes that might not even be real. Since then, he’d either been called ‘boy’, insulted, or sworn at. So, he figured he may as well come up with some actual names.

The man considered him for a second, before nodding.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Jod na Nawood, my name is Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn.” And with that, he gave a strange bow of his head. His hand still gripped Jod’s wrist.

Jod couldn’t help letting out an incredulous splutter. “Jedi Master? But they’re just stories! Nobody actually moves kriff with their mind, and they don’t run round with laser swords neither! D’you give little rich kids presents on life-day too?” 

Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn frowned for the first time since he’d seen him. It was then that Jod considered that maybe making fun of him hadn’t been such a good move. Still, he didn’t actually expect Jod to believe that, did he? He wasn’t three! He didn’t actually know exactly how old he was. But he’d definitely spent way more years than that on this dump.

“I can’t say we’re known for handing out presents on life-day,” he laughed, like he wasn’t offended. He didn’t seem offended, he just seemed… strange. What was up with this bloke? “I give my Padawan - my student who learns from me - a small gift, but at 25 years old I cannot say he’d be happy to be called a child. We are the keepers of peace and justice in the Republic, and we try to help those in need. But, we can move things with our minds. Look.”

And with that, he let go of Jod’s arm (Finally!), before pulling out a snack bar and throwing it up in the air. To Jod’s wide-eyed amazement, it hung there for a second, before he flicked his fingers and it went soaring towards him. He barely pulled himself together in time to catch it.

He stared down at it. The packaging was bright and undamaged, without even the slightest hint of grime. Apparently it was moonberry and choklad flavour, whatever they were.

He looked up at the ‘Jedi’, considering. He had food clasped in his hand, and Qui-Gon was no longer gripping him. Now would be the perfect time to make a break for it. And yet…

“How did you do that?” He demanded instead, aware that he was probably scowling suspiciously at the man. “Magnets? A miniature turbolift?”

“All Jedi are Force-sensitive. That means we can interact with objects around us. I merely convinced the bar that gravity and the distance between us were an illusion.”

Jod frowned. This was bantha-shit. It had to be. And yet it didn’t feel like it was. He was sure he had felt something tugging on him when Qui-Gon had moved the bar. Then a thought hit him.

“You said I was Force-sensitive. That mean that I can do that?” It was a stupid question, and he cursed himself for asking it as soon as it had left his mouth. If he could move stuff, then surely he’d’ve done it already?

Qui-Gon considered him for a second as Jod swallowed. Well, he wasn’t mocking him immediately at least.

“I’m not sure,” he replied at last. “You are at least slightly attuned to the Force, but that doesn’t mean that you have enough midichlorians in you to be able to lift something, especially because Force-sensitive children are always taken to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant for training from a far younger age. At most, you might only be able to lift small objects.”

Jod’s eyes caught on the open cash-box he could see behind one of the stalls on the main road. Small objects was fine by him. And Coruscant. The heart of the galaxy, where the buildings glittered like gold and everyone was rich.

“I could go to Coruscant,” he said. “Wouldn’t matter if I’m a bit older. Everyone says I learn quick.”

Well, apart from all the people that said he was really thick. But they didn’t count.

Qui-Gon sighed. “You’re too old to go to the temple. We don’t allow initiates older than four at most. Older than that and you have too many attachments; you would not be able to learn our ways.”

“Attachments?” He was aware he had snapped, but he didn’t much care.

“Attachments to people, objects, ways of life. You need to be able to let things go.”

Jod gaped at him, incredulous. He didn’t have anything to let go of.

“But I ain’t attached to nothin’! I don’t need nothin’ or no one! Don’t even need a name.”

Qui-Gon glanced to his right. Jod followed his gaze back to the box full of credits.

A seeping void of unfairness swelled up within him.

“But I need to eat, mister!”

“I know,” Qui-Gon said, eventually. “But the Council would never accept you. You’re too old.”

Jod let his gaze drop to the ground as he clenched his teeth together. No, it wasn’t fair, but when had anything ever been fair for the likes of him? The universe was never fair, no one wanted him, and this was just another reminder of that.

“Can you teach me now?” he mumbled. A dangerous question, he knew. This Qui-Gon could ask for anything in return.

“If all goes according to plan, I should not be on this planet for very long,” he replied, sighing. “But stay beside me, and I will tell you what I can about the Force before I leave.”

He looked up. “In exchange for what?”

“Safety from other pickpockets.” 

Jod tried hard to keep his expression neutral. There was no way that Qui-Gon would need protecting from that if he could move even faster than even Jod could. He didn’t think it very wise to say that though.

“You got yourself a deal,” he said instead, holding out his hand. Qui-Gon held out his own and shook Jod’s gently. It wasn’t a very good handshake - everyone knew that the way to inspire confidence in another was to grip their hand so hard it almost hurt, but considering the fact that his knuckles still bled sluggishly from the fight he’d been in yesterday, he wasn’t about to complain.

“I was wondering if I might be able to offer you a further deal?” the Jedi asked once they’d let go.

Jod’s eyes narrowed. Here came the catch.

“I’m here to track down a man - Rible Brode - accused of murdering a number of people on Alderaan. If you help me arrest him, I’ll give you 30 credits.”

Jod’s mouth dropped open. Thirty whole credits. Was it wrong to be grateful that the man had killed lots of people on Alderaan - wherever that was? Probably not.

“So, this is like a bounty hunter type deal, then? You’re trackin’ him down for the families of the people he killed, so they can get their revenge on him?”

Qui-Gon hesitated for a second. “I’m tracking him down so he can be brought to justice.”

There was something Qui-Gon wasn’t telling him, but fair was fair, and thirty credits was thirty credits, so they shook on it again.

-

One day later, and Jod had come to the conclusion that Qui-Gon was an idiot. He handed out snack bars without even making him bargain for them, even though their deal was only to give him credits for helping him catch Brode. The soft, core-world stupidity was okay with him though, especially as there was something telling him - this ‘Force’, perhaps - that the Jedi wasn’t gonna turn round and claim he’d already paid him his credits in food. 

He was aware however, that as much as Qui-Gon’s reckless lack of proper self-interest was currently benefiting him, it could get them both into trouble later, so it would be Jod’s job to watch out for that, to make sure he wasn’t being too free with his credits with other people.

They were currently sat on some crates near one of the main export warehouses. Waiting.

Jedi seemed to do a lot of waiting.

Not that Jod was complaining, of course, he’d had three snack bars after all. But he had thought that something more exciting might have happened by now. A shoot-out, for example. Qui-Gon having to cut someone in half with his laser sword.

The ‘real’ name for a laser sword was a lightsaber, Qui-Gon had told him the evening before. He’d let Jod hold it, asked him if he could feel the crystal that powered it inside.

Jod had said yes immediately - after all, if he was going to convince Qui-Gon that actually he really wasn’t that attached and he would be the best student ever so he should be taken to Coruscant, he did actually need to make himself look good.

Qui-Gon had laughed, had called him a liar, but there was something warm about him as he’d said it and he hadn’t cuffed Jod around the head or anything, so he supposed that could have gone worse.

One of the most important things about being a Jedi, Qui-Gon had said, was to be still, to listen to what the Force was trying to tell you, to close your eyes and feel the world around you.

Jod had wanted to roll his eyes, but didn’t as he was doing his best to be even more perfect than whoever Qui-Gon’s ‘pawadan’ was. Sure, he got gut instincts sometimes, but only when he was scared - they told him which alley to run down, who could be trusted - never when he was calm.

Still, he gave it a go, closing his eyes and imagining he was reaching through the metal. There was something warm inside, alive… green? Jod had reeled back, but told Qui Gon what he’d seen, half-wondering if he would start to laugh.

Qui-Gon hadn’t, instead he’d looked at him with interest and asked to take his blood. Well, it hadn’t much mattered to Jod who had his blood, it had dried on enough people’s knuckles and on enough floors by this point that it didn’t really matter where it went, especially as he only took it with a tiny needle, instead of a knife or something.

Qui-Gon said it was to check how many midi…somethings he had - little things inside him that meant he was Force-sensitive.

“If I had loads, would you take me with you anyway?” he’d asked.

Then, he’d tried not to be disappointed when Qui-Gon didn’t reply.

He hadn’t been allowed to ignite the blade, in case someone saw, but the Jedi had at least shown him some of the ‘katas’ you needed if you wanted to fight. Jod had felt a little ridiculous, standing there with a stick, but pressed on anyway. If someone was teaching you how to fight, you didn’t refuse.

So now, here they were, outside the main warehouse. Sitting. Waiting. Listening to the gibbets that housed the bodies of the latest people to make enemies of the Scarlet Gang swing in the wind.

Qui Gon had told him to pay attention to what the force was telling him, while also paying attention to what the people around him were doing. Jod was trying to decide if he was full of banthashit.

It was too much.

“What’re we waitin’ for again?” He was pretty sure that hadn’t come out as a moan.

“I am not yet sure,” Qui–Gon replied, mysteriously, annoyingly. “But if you wait, and listen to the Force, it will provide.”

He must have sensed the incredulousness within him because he added, “It led you to me, didn’t it?”

“...I guess.”

He was pretty sure it hadn’t. He was pretty sure he’d led himself to Qui-Gon through experience and paying attention to the people out and about in the port. In fact, Jod had only ever provided for himself. He’d had agreements with people, sure, like how the Jedi was giving him food and credits in exchange for his help. But he was pretty sure this one was on him, and that, with the exception of odd feelings or certainties about things, it had always only been him.

“The Jedi as a whole don’t believe in coincidences.”

Jod nodded, decisive. Even if he didn’t exactly agree now, he was sure he could learn to, in order to come to Coruscant, and learn to move stuff with his mind. He’d be pretty untouchable if he could do that, and he’d probably not have to worry much about having enough food or somewhere warm to sleep at night either. People would respect him, and either he could disappear or he would become a leader or a captain, someone that made sure people listened to them and was protected by a first-mate.

So, sure. He could learn to believe that coincidences didn’t really exist, and that the Force provided you with stuff if you listened to it.

But still, he was bored, even if Jedi weren’t meant to get bored.

“So… how many people’d this bloke kill?”

“We think about ten, but there were four other murders that could have been him.”

Jod nodded. He guessed that was a respectable number. It would probably get you a mid-rank in a gang or pirate crew, but not enough to be anyone especially feared. It made sense. If the families had wanted revenge on a pirate captain for instance, they would probably have sent out someone a bit more menacing than this Jedi. Maybe they would have hired a Mando or someone like that.

Suddenly, Qui-Gon twisted his hand up. Jod watched, wide-eyed, as a datacard soared from the direction of someone’s pocket and into his hand.

“Like I said,” he gave Jod a half smile, “the Force will provide.”

Jod shook his head, allowing himself to grin. “But how’d you do that? How’d you move it?”

“I quieted my mind,” Qui-Gon replied, slipping off the crate and to his feet. “Allowed the Force to flow through me. The distance between the datacard and us was an illusion.”

“It wasn’t no illusion. It was over there,” Jod argued, before scrambling to his feet, and starting to follow Qui-Gon through the bustling crowd.

“Yes. But I convinced the Force that it really shouldn’t be.”

Jod gritted his teeth. This whole Jedi thing was going to be harder than it looked.

-

Jod stood in the centre of Qui-Gon’s starship, feeling the hum of the engine as it warmed up shuddering through the metal grating beneath him, listening to the muffled shouts of Brode from the hold.

Qui-Gon was really leaving.

As he swallowed heavily, he reckoned that kind of put a dampener on the excitement of being inside a working ship for the first time. A ship that was clean and not rusty, damp or bug-ridden scrap.

In his palm, he clutched the bag of credits that the Jedi had given him, feeling the way they chinked together in his palm. Somehow, this didn’t feel as good as he’d thought it would.

“I could come with you,” he said at last, his voice higher and less assertive than he’d meant it to. “I wouldn’t even need to be a proper Jedi padwo-pawa-pad- learner. I could just watch. You won’t even know I’m here. I can help you with whatever you need and-”

“Jod.” He looked up to see Qui-Gon staring down at him. His eyes were kind. Jod wanted to claw at them. “The Jedi can’t just kidnap children, we are not permitted to. And I have a bad feeling about the mission that Obi-Wan and I are being sent on in any case. It wouldn’t be safe for a child.”

Jod looked out of the door, clenching his teeth and blinking heavily as he stared at the smog. Safe? What did Qui-Gon know about safe? “Nothin’ here for me,” he muttered. “I wouldn’t mind if you kidnapped me. Wouldn’t complain.”

The Jedi sighed. “I can’t just take everyone I meet-”

“But what about my middlechlorines!” Jod stared back up at him, glaring as hard as he could. “What d’ they say? They could say I’d be really, really powerful or somethin’. Then would you take me with you?”

“The midichlorians don’t say that, Jod.” When he clenched his fists he could feel the credit chips cutting into his palms. “They say you’re slightly less Force-sensitive than average. Given that you’re now about ten, with how much training you’ve missed, at best you could hope to move something small, but you might never manage to feel the Force in the same way a Jedi does.”

He was pretty sure he was choking. There was meant to be air in his throat but there wasn’t.

“Please!”

“I can try and come back,” the Jedi said, after a pause that stretched on for too many of his racing heartbeats, while his ears seemed to ring over the thrum of the engine. “I can try and teach you. But I cannot promise anything. In fact-” he paused for a second- “I do not get the feeling that I am meant to return here. But if I can come, I will.”

His tone was serious, and Jod wanted to believe him but- But who would ever come back for him?

“I understand,” he whispered.

“Jod,” Qui-Gon added seriously, and he raised his eyes to look up at him again. “You are not trapped here. Your life need not be like this. Always remember, your focus determines your reality.”

Jod didn’t bother to keep his scoff internal that time. ‘Your focus determines your reality’. What a load of bantha-shit. It didn’t even make sense. And he wouldn’t be kriffing trapped here if Qui-Gon would just take him with him.

But Qui-Gon wouldn’t, because he didn’t want to, because no one would ever want to.

Maybe Qui-Gon would have taken him if he was a different kid.

“I mean it,” the Jedi said.

“Yeah,” Jod replied, lowering his head and heading out onto the gangplank. “Right.”

He didn’t stay to watch the starship take off, but instead stuffed the credits inside his shoes and then walked quickly away, shaking his head roughly and rubbing at the corners of his eyes. Nothing was ever worth weeping over, he knew that much.

-

As days went by, and Jod sat still and quiet, waiting for something to turn up, or got half his credits nicked, or tried and failed to convince the used deathsticks that littered the streets that in reality they should be floating towards him, there was a part of him that wondered if Qui-Gon might actually come back for him, wondered if he might not be left here after all.

But then, about a week later, as he lay curled up and alone, sheltering as best he could from the acid rain, he listened to the Force. And Jod knew for certain that the Jedi had lied.

Jedi don’t go back for people.

And Qui-Gon was never coming back for him.

[hectic-hector]

Encantober prompt #30: Blood

Sweet Sentiments

(Summary: the long-awaited sequel to "Sympathy Pain". It's that time of the month again, but Bruno manages to handle it (and his sobrinas) a little bit better this time. Mild CW for a small amount of blood.)

They were out of salt. Julieta was certain of it. She had searched every shelf of the pantry, as well as each and every cabinet, multiple times. Nothing. Ever optimistic (or simply desperate), she’d searched until Casita grew irritated and began to loudly clack the counter tiles in protest. When that didn’t work, the house resorted to sealing the pantry and cabinet doors shut, refusing to let Julieta open them again.

Annoyed though she was, she knew she couldn’t blame Casita. The eldest Madrigal triplet was an absolute basket case when she didn’t have every single ingredient she needed. She had even dipped her pinky in the sugar bowl and sampled the crystalline powder inside just to make sure it hadn’t been swapped out again. Nope. Still sugar. For the first time ever, she found herself mentally berating Camilo for not playing that classic prank on her. Julieta placed her palms on two jittery tiles to calm them down and heaved a deep, dramatic sigh. “Looks like arepas are out of the question.” There was a soft thud, followed by the rhythmic sound of fluttering tiles, as a coconut rolled along the counter and stopped right in front of her. She looked at it for a moment before smiling. “I guess I could make cocadas instead. Gracias, Casita!” Julieta set to work grating coconut meat. After several minutes of culinary ambiance, the telltale thwap thwap thwap of sandals caught her ear. She didn’t have to turn around to know who had entered the kitchen. 

"Bruno, be honest,” she said with her back to him, “did you use up all the salt again?" 

Bruno froze, staring saucer-eyed at the back of his sister’s head. 

“Nnnot all of it.” “That’s what you said about the chocolate last time." “Yeah, but I only need a small dash of salt when I use it. You try convincing a colony of rats that they don’t need nearly as much chocolate as they think they do!” He walked over to where his sister stood to see what she was working on. Julieta glanced over and noticed the light gray rat on his right shoulder. Or rather, the back end of a rat. It was facing the other way with its front end hidden under peppery locks of Bruno’s hair. “Is that Horacio or Ignacio?” she asked, recognizing the color of the rat’s fur. “Rosalita,” Bruno replied. “She’s their triplet sister.” He lifted her tail up. “See? No huevos. Big difference. S’why I usually don’t let the boys ride on my shoulders. I don’t need those things in my face!”

Julieta couldn’t help but chuckle. “Does Rosalita like coconut?” “Let’s see!” 

Bruno reached up and turned the rat around so that she was facing forward. Julieta offered up a cupped palm with fresh shreds of coconut meat in the middle of it. Rosalita sniffed her hand. A moment later she found the treat and scooped up a mouthful before settling back on her haunches. Holding the shreds in her tiny little hands, she nibbled away happily at them. Bruno grinned.

“Yep. She does!” He reached up again to give her a little scratch behind the ears, but Rosalita made an indignant squeak and promptly turned to face the other way, her tail wrapping around Bruno’s throat to steady herself on his narrow shoulder. He scratched her rump instead, earning another squeak of protest.

“It’s alright, Rosie!” he said with a chuckle. “She thinks I’m trying to snatch her food.” “Speaking of snatched food,” Julieta started, and Bruno braced himself, “what did happen to the salt, if you didn’t take it?”

Bruno shrugged his unoccupied shoulder. “I dunno. Maybe Camilo used it on the snails in the garden?” “I doubt it. Antonio caught him doing that once and had an absolute meltdown. I don’t think ’Milo would dare do it again.” Bruno raised a brow. “Can Toñito talk to snails?” Julieta shook her head as she resumed shredding coconut. “He’s always loved animals, even snails. Doesn’t matter if they can speak to him or not. When he was four he found a snail with a pretty pink and yellow shell that he wanted to keep as a pet.” “I remember that. He named it after Casita, didn’t he?” “Mm-hm. He said the snail’s house was as pretty as ours, so he called it Casitita.” Bruno stood beside his sister and picked up the unshredded half of the coconut. “What are you making?” “Cocadas. I was going to make arepas for the construction crew working on the Peña-Suarez house –” Bruno set the coconut down and put his hands up. “I know, I know, but I swear, Juli, I didn’t use all your salt! I’ve got my own private stash. See?” He pulled his ruana aside and showed her the breast pocket of his shirt. “There’s still some left, if you want it.”

Julieta smirked. "The last time you gave me your pocket salt, it had lint in it, so no thank you." 

“Eh, your loss.” He reached into his pocket, scooping up salt, then flung it over his ratless shoulder before a look of panic crossed his face. “No, wait! That was the last of it!” “Then why don’t you go down to the market and get some more?” Julieta replied with an arched brow. “I’ve got a lot of work to do here, and you’re not exactly helping just standing around.” “Should I also get some –” “Yes!” “You don’t even know what I was going to say!” “It doesn’t matter,” she said as she shooed him away. “If you think we need it, then we probably do. Use your own judgment.”

It was Bruno’s turn to smirk. “You’re asking the guy who told a priest he’d go bald to use his own judgment?” “The same guy who knew his sobrinas needed chocolate and went out of his way to get it for them.” Julieta turned to face him with a tender smile. “That guy. I trust his judgment.” Bruno couldn’t help but return the smile, though he embellished it with a dramatic sigh. “Alright. I’ll go. But only because you know how to butter me up.” He lifted the rat from his shoulder, planted a kiss on the top of her head, and set her down on the floor. “Off you go, Rosalita! No rats allowed at the market!” “Or in the kitchen,” Julieta reminded him. “It’s one thing when they’re on your shoulder –” “Esta bien, Juli. She knows.” Bruno nodded toward Rosalita, who was already scurrying away to find the nearest hole in the wall. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ “Will you please keep it down? You’re being too loud.” “What are you talking about? All I did was grow some orchids.” “Well you’re growing them too loudly! And those flowers are hideous!” “They’re dracula orchids. They don’t have to be beautiful. What is your problem?” Camilo waltzed in between his sister and cousin, shapeshifting into the former. “Oh, don’t mind me,” he said in Dolores’s voice. “It’s that time of the month when everything is my problem!”

Dolores growled and shoved him. Camilo snickered and shifted back into his own form. “What? You make it pretty obvious when you can’t even stand the sound of flowers blooming.” He turned to look at the orchids Isabela was holding. “Whoa, these flowers have faces? No way!” Isabela beamed proudly. “That’s why they’re also known as monkey face orchids,” she said with a snide smirk aimed directly at Dolores. “And what is that supposed to mean?” Dolores demanded, hands on her hips. “It means they can be whatever they want because they don’t care what you think about them!” Isabela shot back as vines began to envelop the nearest column and wall. Twisted crimson flowers burst into bloom on them, coupled with long, needle-like thorns. Camilo raised a brow. “You too, huh?” Isabela glowered at him. “What?” He gestured to the vines. “You always grow these during that–”

THWUMP!

Camilo was silenced by a giant rafflesia flower to the face. “You’re both being too loud!” Dolores snapped.

Having heard the commotion, Julieta poked her head out of the kitchen to investigate. Her fears were confirmed by the sight of the blood red flowers creeping along the walls. She went back over to the oven to keep an eye on the cocadas, casting an uneasy glance out the nearest window. They were low on chocolate, but she knew she could depend on her brother to get more from the market, just as he had the previous month. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Bruno returned with a sackful of goods and a look of annoyance creasing his brow. “I asked Señor Fuentes what he wanted for five pounds of coffee beans,” he said as he unpacked his purchases. “And do you know what he said? He said he wanted a vision. Just a vision. Simple enough, right? Oh, no. Of course not. I invited him back to Casita, but he insisted I give him a vision right then and there.” Julieta set the cocadas to cool on the windowsill and came over to see what Bruno had bought. Salt, cinnamon, coffee, corn, and avocados were laid out on the counter.

“What did you tell him?” she asked, picking up the salt. “I told him he was crazy,” Bruno answered matter-of-factly. Julieta’s eyes widened. “You didn’t!” “Well, no. I didn’t say that out loud. I did tell him he was drinking way too much of his own coffee if he thought I could just conjure up a sand storm in the middle of the marketplace! And even if I could, I doubt anyone else there would appreciate it.” “Did he actually want a tablet, or did he just want a vision?” Bruno shrugged. “I told him I could do it without the sand storm if he didn’t mind taking my word for it, but that if he wanted to see the vision for himself, I would need sand. No sand, no tablet. He finally gave me the coffee and muttered something about coming over tomorrow, so I think he finally got it.”

Julieta nodded and looked over the groceries again. “You didn’t happen to get any chocolate, did you?” Bruno also looked at the groceries. “Uh, no. Sorry, was I supposed to?” “It would have helped, but I didn’t realize until after you’d left.” Julieta glanced over toward Casita’s courtyard, where Isabela had surrounded herself with an array of particularly lethal-looking plants, while twin Doloreses argued with each other nearby.

Bruno followed her gaze. “That time again, huh?” Julieta nodded. “Do all the girls have it at the same time?” “Usually, yes.” The real Dolores stopped bickering with her doppelganger and turned to stare in utter disbelief at her aunt and uncle. The two stared back at her, realizing they’d been caught.

Dolores turned beet red and hurried off to her room, leaving an unfazed Camilo to mimic his cousin instead. Annoyed, Isabela retaliated by encircling him with several large Venus flytraps that immediately began snapping at his legs.  

Julieta sighed. “We really need that chocolate.” She went back over to the windowsill to check the cocadas. “I have to go deliver these, so I’ll pick some up while I’m out,” she said as she placed the treats inside a small handbasket, then turned to Bruno. “Would you mind watching the kids?” “They’re mostly old enough to watch themselves now, aren’t they?” “I mean, if there are any problems, can I trust you to be the responsible adult here?” “Responsible is a strong word,” Bruno began, but Julieta was already heading for the door. “Wait! You’re seriously going to leave me in charge? What about Gus and Félix?” “Agustín tends to make himself scarce when he knows the girls are menstruating, and Félix is on the construction crew.” “Pepa –” “–Is doing climate control to make sure the cement sets properly.” “Ma –” “Mamá’s visiting the Guzmáns.” Julieta paused at the door and turned to face her brother with a reassuring smile. “You’ll do just fine, Bruni,” she said, calling him by his old nickname. “I have every confidence in you.” “Not the best decision you could have made, to be honest.” She gave him a good-natured smirk. “I stand by it. And I’ll be back before anyone even notices I’ve gone.” Bruno smirked back. “Excuse me, but who’s the psychic here? I don’t even need a vision to know that the instant Doña Martina sees you, she’s going to invite you in for tea and gossip. And you won’t have the heart to say no.”

Julieta rolled her eyes. “Would you rather run my errands for me?” she asked, holding out the basket of cocadas toward him. Bruno took a step back and put his hands up, shaking his head. “Oh, no. I’ve reached my social limit for the day, thank you very much. If they’re not furry or family, I’m done dealing with them.” Julieta sighed. “Alright then. You’re in charge until I return, but you know the rules: no rats in the kitchen, and sand stays inside your tower.” Casita opened the front door to allow her to step out. Bruno followed, stopping at the threshold. “Don’t your rules kinda defeat the purpose of me being in charge?” he called after her.

CRASH!

Bruno jumped and spun around. A large terra cotta pot lay broken in the middle of the courtyard. He looked up to see Luisa standing on the balcony directly above, gripping the railing with guilt etched across her face. Isabela appeared beside her and looked down with a gasp. “Luisa! That was my favorite cactus! How could you?” “I didn’t mean to!” Luisa replied. “I was just moving it out of the way, but then Mirabel ran right past me and I didn’t want her to run into it, so I just kind of fumbled it and –”

“MIRABELLL!”

“ – and accidentally dropped it over the railing.”

Isabela huffed. “She is so dead!” “It’s not like you can’t just grow another cactus,” Luisa pointed out as the two of them headed down the stairs. “A cactus is a cactus. They’re all the same.” Isabela made it to the ground floor ahead of Luisa, turning on her with an icy glare. “They are NOT all the same! You take that back!” She stood over the broken pot, looking torn between weeping and raging. “Her name was Elenora, and she was my emotional support cactus!” “Then why was it just sitting there on the mezzanine?” Luisa asked. “Why wasn’t it in your room?” “Because she also guarded my door!” Isabela snapped in a tone that said the answer was obvious. “Well it did the job alright, because I got pricked just walking past it!”

“Well maybe if you didn’t lumber around like a gorilla, you could have avoided it!” Luisa loomed over Isabela, teeth and fists clenched. “You wanna repeat that, princess?” Undeterred, Isabela merely smiled and batted her eyes. “Oh, didn’t you hear me the first time?” she purred, “Or do you even have any ears under all those bulging slabs of meat you call muscles?”

Bruno quickly wedged himself between the two girls, holding a palm up in front of each one.

“Alright now, let’s not say anything we might regret!” he said, a little louder than he’d meant to. The sudden appearance of twisted, thorny vines protectively encircling Isabela made Bruno’s skin crawl unpleasantly at the memory of being assaulted by them a month prior. He recalled his poor choice of words with his nieces that had led to the assault and made a mental note to be more tactful. “I understand that you’re both, uh, going through some things right now, so let’s just try to be reasonable here. Isa, do you want to tell your sister how you feel, but maybe try phrasing it a little differently? Lulu, are you willing to give her another chance?” Both girls glared at each other in silence for a moment before Isabela nodded calmly. “Yes, Tío. Of course. I would just like to ask Luisa how many times she skipped brain day, because it seems to be the only muscle in her body that she never uses.” “The brain isn’t a muscle, hibiscus head!” Luisa retorted. “You’d know that if you didn’t spend all day huffing pollen!” Before he could say a word, Bruno found himself on the floor, the exposed skin of his face, neck, and hands stinging with pain. He looked up to see the bougainvillea surrounding Isabela had practically exploded all over the courtyard. He sat up, wincing at the little stabs of pain all over his body. Several thorns had gone right through his clothes, though the added layer that his ruana provided kept them from going very deep. He felt a hand on his arm attempting to help him up and accepted it. Luisa and Isabela were still arguing as Mirabel led Bruno into the kitchen. “I find it best to just stay out of the way when those two start fighting,” she whispered. Bruno nodded agreement. He shook some thorns from his ruana before taking a seat at the kitchen table. “Mamá made cocadas,” Mirabel said as she looked around. She picked up a small dish towel from the counter. “She took them to the construction crew working on the new house,” Bruno told her. “Guess I’ll have to wait ‘til she gets back.” He gingerly pulled at a thorn in his forearm, then gave up quickly with a hiss of pain. Mirabel turned to him with a look of concern that uncannily mirrored her mother’s. “Well, we can’t leave those thorns in. Here, let me pull them out.” 

She pulled a chair up to sit down facing Bruno. She began to reach for a thorn in his neck, but he drew back nervously and held up a hand to block her. “M-maybe we should wait for your mother.” Mirabel sighed and took his hand in both of her own. “Please, Tío, let me help you. The longer you leave those in, the more they’re going to hurt.” Without warning, she plucked a thorn from the back of his hand. It happened so quickly that Bruno didn’t even see her do it. He let out a small hiss, but thankfully the pain had already passed. Mirabel gently pressed the dish towel against the skin, soaking up the little dot of blood from the wound. “There, now. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” “I guess not,” Bruno murmured. “I mean, as long as you’re that quick with the rest of them –”

He let out another hiss as Mirabel yanked a second thorn from his hand. She pressed the cloth against the wound for a second before moving on to the next thorn. 

It didn’t take long for Bruno to decide he didn’t want to see where she would strike next, so he kept his eyes closed. Several yips, hisses, and half-uttered swears later, he cracked an eye open. The first thing he saw was the dish towel, now covered in red spots, moving in to dab at his cheek. He reached up. “You don’t need to do this, Mira,” he said, taking the towel from her. “I appreciate it, but it’s not your job to clean up my mess. I mean, I can barely stand the sight of my own blood, so I can only imagine how this must make you feel.” He nodded to the bloody cloth. Mirabel shook her head. “Honestly, it doesn’t bother me. I have to deal with a lot more blood than that on a regular basis, so…” she shrugged, only now beginning to look the slightest bit uncomfortable. Bruno raised a brow. “Oh?” The girl looked away with a blush, biting her lip. “Oh.” Bruno blushed as well. “Right.”

“And it’s… kind of my fault that this happened in the first place,” Mirabel confessed, taking the towel back from him. “I ran past Luisa on the mezzanine and made her drop Isa’s cactus.” She reached up to pull a thorn from Bruno’s chin. “And why did y– YOWCH! – why did you do that?”

Mirabel blushed again. Saying nothing, she held up the bloodied towel as a hint. Bruno stared at it for a moment before understanding. “I wasn’t expecting it so soon,” she murmured, eyes downcast. She dropped the towel to her lap and nervously twisted it with both hands. Bruno was surprised that his niece was being so open with him, given how she had reacted to his knowledge of the subject only a month before. Now, seeing the way she was hunched over, brow slightly creased, he wondered if she was having cramps. “Your ma will be back soon with chocolate,” he said, offering a small smile when she looked up at him. His eyes seemed to glow faintly for a moment, then his smile grew. “And she’s going to make chocolate tres leches cake for dessert! Don’t tell her I told you, though. It’s a surprise.”

Mirabel tried to give him a scolding look, but failed. Instead, she ended up mirroring his smile. ~   ~   ~   ~   ~ The cake was even better than Bruno could have foreseen. Julieta gave him a heaping slice, encouraging him to eat more to make up for the malnutrition he’d suffered inside the walls. In the few months since Casita had been restored, Bruno’s health and physique had visibly improved, despite the fact that many of his extra servings ended up being eaten by Camilo instead. 

A sprig of mint leaves sprouted on top of Bruno’s cake slice as he picked up his fork. He looked over at Isabela, who smiled apologetically. “Sorry about the thorns earlier, Tío. Have some soothing mint with your cake.” Bruno smiled back, appreciative. “It’s okay, Isa. And thank you.” He took a bite and his eyes lit up. “Wow! I had no idea this could taste even better! That’s quite an achievement! Or should I say, achieve-mint?” Antonio and the girls giggled. Camilo rolled his eyes. “Maybe I should add mint to my desserts more often,” said Julieta. “Your cooking is amazing already,” said Bruno, “but a little improve-mint wouldn’t hurt!”

More giggles, plus a small groan from Camilo. The boy looked miserably at Bruno. “I’m glad you’re back, Tío. I really am, but you’re killing me with the puns.” Bruno smirked at the boy, a wicked gleam in his eye. “Well, thanks, ‘Milo. I appreciate the senti-mint.” Camilo threw his arms heavenward with a loud groan. Mirabel snickered. “About time you got your just desserts!” she teased.

Camilo shot her a dirty look, then sighed. “May I please be excused from this family?” “Not a chance,” said Bruno. “I tried that once, and look where I am now!” Camilo crossed his arms with a huff. “Rats!” “Hey, watch your language,” Bruno warned with a teasing grin. THE END @encantober-official

[thefish-arecoming]

I'm officially continuing Consumable, chapter four it is will be up in like two to three weeks

Until then here's the full thing so far (cut so this doesn't take up my whole page)

@fyodors-rat-colony

WARNINGS: Swearing, sexual humor, absurdist humor, violence, masochism, sadism, drug addiction, alcohol.

Chapter one: C Pre-notes: Sorry for any inconsistent spellings ( I'm looking at you, Michirozuki D:< ) --------------------

“ C o n s u m a b l e “ .

That’s what everyone said. “Consumable”.

”Consumable.”

”C o nsumable.”

”C o n sumable.”

”C o n s umable.”

”C o n s u mable.”

”C o n s u m able.”

”C o n s u m a ble.”

”C o n s u m a b le.”

”C o n s u m a b l e.”

...

Someone grabbed my shoulder, jostling me out of my thoughts. Ironic. It was the person I thought of as consumable— Michirozuki. “Come on, Saka! You’ve got to go to the party with us tonight~” It took less than a minute for me to think of a response to his horrendous suggestion. “I don’t want to,” I responded bluntly. I wasn’t lying; I didn’t want to go. Parties were loud, obnoxious places where people got high, drunk, and arrested. Not something I wanted to be a part of.

“What, scared?” I should have known he was going to start mocking me. Michirozuki’s voice made me want to tear his organs out to the brink of death, yet just enough life capacity left to live another day. “For your information, I do not wish to partake in your activities not because of fear, but because I actually have a place to go after academics, unlike someone here.” How did I manage to stay so calm when I had the impulse to reach down this ravenette’s throat and tear his esophagus out? The gods above know the answer to that. “That someone is you, Michirozuki. You spend your time at worthless events. I do not.”

”I kind of picked up on that.”

”Now, leave me alone before I act on my impulses to tear you limb from limb and watch your blood pool onto the floor until you turn pale.”

+~+~+~+

After finishing my work, I simply headed home— to bathe, get dressed, and probably drink some alcohol. Truly, I did not have anything better to do than go to the party, but I had to think of some excuse that could be both excusing me from my absence to his party and rude towards him as well. The moment I arrived at my house, after unlocking the door with a click noise, I slid off my shoes and headed straight to the bathroom to clean. I felt disgusting after academics every day, my joints ached and my skin did not feel right on my body. I turned the water on, medium heat, and waited, staring at my horribly messy, warm grey hair.

I tested the water’s heat, putting my hand under the pouring rain-like drops. Still too cold. Honestly I had been hoping it was hot enough to melt my skin off. That would have been an interesting experience, and I wouldn’t have to feel uncomfortable in my own skin if it wasn’t there...  I tested it again. Perfect. Sadly it still wasn’t hot enough to melt me. Oh well. Better luck next time. I slowly got in the glass-like container, gently grabbing the bar of soap that had been resting on the shelf in the shower. 

After cleaning, I dried myself completely— my hair dry before my body. That was what I liked the most about myself, my warm grey hair and my central-heterochromatic eyes. Green around my pupil and the rest of my iris blue. That and my ignorance to the annoying voice consistently telling me to tear out Michirozuki’s throat and organs. Besides the point, though, because I was ready to get re-dressed.

And after that, I simply sat in my dining room, alone, with a wine glass filled with vodka— which was in fact not wine. My heart sunk the moment I realized that was the last I had. I needed to go shopping anyways, but another item to add to my list was just embarrassing. I had enough money, but still.

Long story short, I went shopping. I grabbed my house keys and wallet, shoving both into my pockets. And then I started the 3 minute walk to the store. Which was boring, to say the least. All I could to was pray that Michirozuki didn’t notice me walking by. He would most definitely say something tomorrow if he did. Upon reaching the building, I sighed. Here I go..

I was quite common to find in here. The cashiers knew me. The workers knew me. Did I talk? No. Did they know my name? No. Did they say hello to me when I walked by and almost give me a heart attack because it was so sudden? Absolutely. And that wasn’t any different today. “Ah, hello there, sir!” Kikotosori greeted. I glared at him. Kikotosori Mujime, restocks the alcohol supply ever three to five days, depending on how fast the stock went down every week. I was typically the cause if he had to come back twice a week. I didn’t like him. He was exactly three and a half years older than me, and had gone to my college before he dropped out. No wonder he worked here. 

I grabbed the things I needed without speaking. When I reached the cashier, I should have expected who was there.

Damn Nuure. ------------------- Post-notes: 876 words. Wow, I really can't write long chapters, can I? -- How does a sadist pick up a bar of soap 'gently' after wishing to tear someone's throat out? I do not know. Don't question it. ------------------- Chapter two: O Pre-notes: Should I continue this series after this book? I would like to see people enjoying my writings. Please do let me know if you would like me to continue this alongside my typicals (fanfiction) --------------------

Damn Nuure.

Nuure Katshiko. Drug abuser since high-school, taking pain killers as often as possible, even when she wasn’t in pain. One of the most violent people I knew (minus myself and Hurusē). She had attempted, several times, to stab five teachers with a plastic butter-knife from the cafeteria during lunch in Elementary. And afterwards was sent to a mental institution. And then got diagnosed with schizophrenia. And then had to start taking even more drugs for her health... and it only got worse from there. 

She wasn’t doing anything. Yet. She would either try to assault me or someone else, because I have seen her in the past seven weeks three times on the news, being arrested for battery. Gods know how she escaped, but I was more so fearful of her attacking me than her criminal records at this time. “....” I stayed silent, waiting for my turn in line. I would rather put a gun in my mouth and blow my brains out through the other side with a bullet than aggravate her. 

And then she turned around and noticed me.

Fuck. This day was just going wonderful, wasn’t it?

“Oh, it’s you... still just as much of a pitied twig as when I last saw you, hm, Sakana?” God dammit, not only was she a literal criminal probably on the run from the police, she was also still just as mocking as I remembered. “And you still have your unnecessarily bright blonde hair.” I retorted. Was this going to get me impaled on a motorbike, skewered in at least twelve different was? Probably. There was absolutely no chance of me winning a fight against this monstrosity. She would have me twisted into a human pretzel before I could say one more word. She could have torn me apart, then and there, leaving me standing there with my internals exposed— 

But she didn’t. She just left. She grabbed her five bags filled with exactly fifteen items differing in size. I could bet she probably caused twenty percent of the over 37,900 people that have died today. Nuure was one of the extremely few people that could make me feel genuine fear, wanting to curl up into a ditch twenty-seven miles away from my home, dying from the eight stab wounds she gave me. She would drop me in a ditch, any given day so long she had the chance. 

I paid for my things and left the store immediately.

Once back at home, I started sorting my new purchases— alcohol (mainly wine and vodka) in one shelf, actual food in another. The last thing I had enough money to pay for was bread. Because of course I bought bread. It’s one of the ‘anyone can afford this bullshit’ foods I moderately enjoyed.

I lay in my bed, alone and sorrowful.

I lay in my bed, when will this night end?

I lay in my bed, alone and sorrowful.

I lay in my bed, when will this night end?

I lay in my bed, alone and sorrowful．

I lay in my bed, when will this night end?

I lay in my bed, alone and sorrowful.

I lay in my bed, when will this night end?

I lay in my bed, alone and sorrowful.

I lay in my bed, when will this night end?

I lay in my bed, alone and sorrowful．

I lay in my bed, when will this night end?

I lay in my bed, alone and—

...

I woke from a dream. My parents had died when I was merely twelve, in reality. I had been living alone for ten years. No one knew about my parents death. I hadn’t told anyone— I barely spoke in general. They had caught on fire during a home invasion. I escaped with severe burn injuries, unconscious from the smoke. Poisoned. There was a slim chance of me living. They had to clean my wounds, my house, my parents bodies— traumatizing experience, really. It wasn’t as bad as people say it was. Not to me at least. Having severe issues because my parents are dead and I can’t light a candle without being horrified of burning to death? Never.... BANG!

Wha t was I talking about again? My mind was too foggy to recall. The loud noise had caught me off guard, it was similar to a gunshot. I looked over to my bedroom window. A dead hummingbird had been smacked against the glass. How was it staying attached? Who knows. I got off my bed and investigated it. Only to be jump-scared by that disgusting blonde.

------------------- Post-notes: Sorry for the short chapter (only 767 words this time), I'm still working on developing the plot and my motivation is running low. Nevertheless, expect chapter three by next Sunday! ------------------- Chapter three: N Pre-notes: Nuure. Again. -- I just reread this and HOLY SHIT WHAT WAS I ON? --------------------

The dead hummingbird was somehow still on the window, its tiny body still twitching as if clinging to some final, invisible thread of life. But the only thing more jarring than the bird’s sudden arrival was the presence standing just outside my window—Nuure, her eyes alight with something between fury and amusement. My blood ran cold, yet a dark thrill coiled through me like smoke, almost daring me to move closer.

“Sakana,” she drawled, her voice just loud enough to seep through the thin glass, “did I interrupt your beauty sleep?” The smile that followed was a jagged tear across her face, as if mocking the very idea of peace.

I clenched my fists, nails biting into my palms to keep my expression neutral. Inside, the monster I kept caged stirred restlessly, whispering with an almost gleeful hunger. Here she was, the only person who could twist fear and rage into a volatile cocktail inside me. Yet, as much as my sadistic tendencies screamed to be let loose, logic tethered me to stillness.

“I see you’re still good at sneaking around like a rat,” I retorted, voice a cold knife’s edge. It was a dangerous dance we played, her violence versus my venom.

Nuure tilted her head, blonde hair catching the dim moonlight in an almost angelic glow that belied the storm in her eyes. “A rat? Is that the best you’ve got?” She pressed her palm flat against the window, leaning forward so that only the glass separated us. “Come on, Saka. I know you better than that. Where’s the creativity, the fire?”

The air between us crackled, my breath fogging the glass as I edged closer, heartbeat pounding a wicked rhythm. I wanted to see that smile falter, to twist her amusement into a mask of shock and rage. But I needed control—a controlled burn, not a wildfire.

I forced a smirk. “Why waste my creativity on a pest who can’t tell the difference between chaos and desperation?”

For a moment, a flicker of something unreadable crossed her face, quick as lightning. Then, just as fast, she barked out a laugh, a sound so sharp it could have shattered the silence like glass. “Desperation? You’re projecting again, Saka. I can see it.” She leaned back, eyes narrowing, daring me to prove her wrong.

The silence thickened, each second stretching until it felt like we were both perched on a knife’s edge. Then, without warning, she spun on her heel and started walking away, disappearing down the alley like a shadow evaporating into the night.

I exhaled shakily, pressing my forehead to the cool surface of the window. The house felt smaller, its corners tightening around me like a cage. The encounter had stirred something deep within me, something I both feared and craved—a violent promise left hanging in the air.

The knock came softly, three beats against the door that might have been lost in the quiet if not for my hyperawareness. I set the glass down with deliberate slowness, standing so the chair’s scrape against the floor sounded like a gunshot. I crossed the room, every step amplifying the pulse thrumming in my ears.

I opened the door to find Nuure standing there, golden hair disheveled, a bruise blossoming on her cheek like a dark flower. She didn’t smile this time. She didn’t speak. Her eyes, wide and alert, scanned the room behind me as though expecting someone else.

“What do you want?” I asked, keeping my voice low, my tone dripping with impatience.

Her gaze met mine, and for once, I saw no mockery, no challenge. Just raw, unfiltered anger. “They’re coming, Sakana,” she whispered. The intensity in her voice, a tone I had never heard before, snapped my spine straight.

“Who?” I demanded, the taste of dread rising in my throat.

Nuure pushed past me, shutting the door with a force that rattled the frame. “We don’t have time for your questions. You think you’re untouchable in this little cocoon of yours? Wake up. There are worse things out there than you, and they’re already watching.”

Her words were like ice water down my back. Before I could respond, she turned, facing me with a fierceness that almost made me take a step back. Almost.

I leaned in, eyes narrowing. “What did you bring here, Nuure?”

She met my gaze, unfazed. “Something that makes your twisted games look like child’s play.”

The air thickened, the edges of the room blurring. The silence was gone, replaced by a thrum beneath my feet that felt alive. The night hadn’t yet begun, but the game had already changed. And for the first time in years, I didn’t know if I would be the predator—or the prey.

------------------- Post-notes: Sorry for the overextended wait for this chapter! My motivation was completely drained over the course of October (especially sorry to Robin, lol). Exactly 786 words (still pretty short, sorry!!!), chapter four will be out next Wednesday or before :)

Nuure is schizophrenic guys

Completely forgot about the formatting when I wrote this, just corrected it. Sorry!!!

[moviemunchies]

I remember when this movie came out, I desperately wanted to see it. We were going through a move at the time, though, and I don’t think anyone else in the family cared. We didn’t actually go to the movies much in those days, and always as a family. I even remember while driving around with the realtor, passing a new theater in town (which isn’t there anymore, I think?) that was playing the movie, and the realtor saying he’d recently seen the movie with his family and they’d liked it.

Well, twenty-two years later, it was on Netflix, and I finally sat down and watched it.

I… uh… I didn’t like it that much.

Sorry, guys.

Spirit is a wild mustang and the leader of his herd. One day, he gets captured by humans and taken to a US Army fort. There, the Colonel repeatedly tries to have his men tame/break him. In captivity, Spirit bonds with and later escapes with a young man of the Lakota named Little Creek, who has also been captured. Little Creek also wants to tame Spirit, though he takes a much kinder tact; and Spirit finds himself drawn to Little Creek’s painted mare Rain.

There are no talking animals in this movie. Sort of. While we don’t see Spirit or any of the horses talk, there’s voiceover provided by Matt Damon which reveals what Spirit’s thinking and feeling in certain scenes. I’m going to be real with you: this did not work for me. Either have talking animals, or no dialogue from them. You can tell good stories with minimal dialogue! There are episodes of Samurai Jack which come to mind. This halfway approach just feels like you don’t feel confident in the story you’re doing, so you don’t go all the way one way or the other. 

And then there are songs which also hammer in, in case you can’t figure out what you’re supposed to get from scenes. For instance, in the scene where the Army soldiers are trying to tame and ride Spirit, and he’s bucking them all off of his back, Bryan Adams sings “Get Off My Back”. In case it wasn’t clear what’s going on here.

There’s an argument about how Disney’s Tarzan isn’t really a musical, or a good one, because it doesn’t have the characters singing (aside from “Trashing the Camp”), it has Phil Collins singing to the audience about how the characters feel. I thought that Sideways had a video on it, but I can’t find it. It’s the same problem here, though: we’re being told what to think and feel by what feels like a third party instead of the actual story and characters speaking for themselves, either by literally speaking or by us interpreting the visual language of the film.

The movie’s also weird and heavy-handed in a way that I don’t think really works? Like, yeah, colonialism and Manifest Destiny are bad and all, but I feel a bit weird when Spirit says that Rain treats Little Creek like one of her own rather than a tamer, and clearly what we’re meant to get is that Little Creek and the Lakota are in touch with nature and treat their horses better so everything’s cool.

Quiz time, kids: what would the Lakota use horses for?

Even if we say that it’s not war, or that it's war that it’s justified by colonialism, other than transport, those horses are going to be used for hunting. For killing. I do not judge for that, given that I also eat meat–but the movie clearly doesn’t want you to think about this. You’re clearly meant to think that the Lakota ride horses around to feel the wind through their hair and be free or something. That Spirit would have been hunting and killing bison, his companions in the plains, is not brought up.

The CGI in the movie hasn’t really aged well. I would move past it, in the same way I did in the Shrek review, but I’ve seen recent reviews claim that it still holds up, and it doesn’t. There are some great landscape shots, and there are some where it’s painfully obvious that one’s in a computer-generated style that doesn’t gel with the rest of the animation. And even when it works, and we get sweeping open, the wide open plains look so… empty. It reminds me a little of the animated superhero shows from way back when where the streets of NYC or Gotham were strangely empty. This is on a movie budget, though, and even the plains of the West shouldn’t look this bare. That criticism doesn’t apply to every landscape shot, there are some great ones–the canyons look great–but my point is, even when the CGI and effects work, they don’t always work.

Alright, this is really nitpicky, but it really bothered me, so here we go: Spirit’s “rattlesnake” comment. When Spirit meets the Colonel (a fictionalized and unnamed version of Custer), Matt Damon’s voice tells us that the impression he had of him was the same as when he first encountered a rattlesnake. This analogy only works on a very basic level of “unpleasant, poisonous thing that will bite you”; a rattlesnake will only bother you if you bother it, and it gives you a warning ahead of time, which is not a description of the Colonel at all. In any case, this would have worked better if we had actually seen this first time he’d come across a rattlesnake, and he had the same reaction to the snake as he did to Custer. Either way, this fell flat for me.

Aside from the songs by Bryan Adams, the score is fine. The animation on the horses is fantastic though–really, if you like horses I’m sure you’ll love looking at these gorgeous horses. Apparently the people at Dreamworks spent a lot of time studying horses to make sure they were animated well. They’re very expressive, and it makes me think again that maybe there should have been no narration at all, because you can get a lot out of their emotions. They didn’t do that, though, so instead we have narration.

More than anything, though, I just got so bored in this movie. When I was halfway through this movie, I looked at the time and wondered, “How does this go on for another forty minutes? What can possibly happen?” The answer is: Spirit gets captured by white people again and then escapes from them again.

I feel bad that I didn’t like this movie, but I didn’t. I’d go so far as to say it’s bad. Not terrible, by any means, and there are parts of it that are okay; but it’s definitely put together in a way that isn’t that good. If you love horses, you’ll probably go nuts for this movie, but otherwise you could and should skip it.

That’s two classic Dreamworks movies in a row that I didn’t like. I got Madagascar from the library; hopefully this will work out for me.

[skylarstark4826]

Kara had been decorating her apartment for Christmas. she normally held an annual party but this year she was not sure she would with Alex not being able to leave the DEO much since Kara had to hang up her cape (for the time being at lest). James was running as many story’s on agent liberty as possible to at lest try to keep a conversation going and Kara had not been able to talk to Lena for weeks now not since here break up with James as she was burying herself in work. J’onn was volunteering at soup kitchen’s as he always did this time of year. 

so that left Kara by herself a lot lately, feeling sorry for herself and being a bit too selfish for her liking so once she’s finished here she’ll go help J’onn or James maybe give Alex a call. She could do it in a blink of an eye but Kara liked to decorate things like this slowly. That way she can feel more apart of the season as to just rushing through it.

just as she was putting tinsel out of the box she head a knock at the door. when she answered it, Brainy had turned around to face her as he had had his back to the door.

‘Hey Brainy what are you doing here is everything ok?’

he paused at her question and looked confused at her surprise

‘Yes, everything is alright, but you did tell me to meet with you tonight.’

‘I did’

‘yes, you where going to show me ‘It’s a wonderful life’ to get me in to as you put it the holiday spirit.’ 

‘oh right of course i forgot, well come in i was just decorating.’

‘ah yes the colonial tradition of brightening the inside of the home as to distract for the harsh winter outside i am familiar with it, I will help.’

‘thank you.’

the two of them then started to put the tinsel around the apartment, nick knacks on the tables and finally putting ornaments on the tree.

‘thank you for helping me Brainy.’

‘no matter, besides I think this is much better immersion, I always prefer hard data over observational collection.’

Brainy smiled as he put a gold bauble on the tree. 

‘I will keep that in mind.’

Kara was untangling the light on the floor as she looked up at him, Brainy then pulled another item out of the box and paused. 

‘hey, wait Brainy that one dose not go on the tree.’

‘why? what is it?’

he looked down at his hand to examine the green leafy object, Kara then stood up in front of him and took his hands in hers.

‘this is mistletoe and it doesn’t go on the tree it goes up high like in a door frame or a balcony places like that.’

‘why?’

he asked without looking up for his hand the way he said was almost like a child. 

‘will it’s tradition so that its high enough for two people to stand under.’

‘alright.’

Brainy looked up and around the apartment until he found a pace to hang it, he then lifted himself into the air with his flight ring and placed it there. he then lowered himself down still looking at it. he then looked at Kara as if to signal her to come over. she then walked over to him and when she was in front of him he looked up again looking confused.

‘is it not working?’

‘sorry?’

‘is the mistletoe not working?’

Kara could not help but let out a giggle as she shook her head a little.

‘have I miss read the situation.’

‘a little bit,yeah.’

Brainy looked down at his feet he didn’t like getting things wrong especially not in front of Kara. Kara had stopped her giggling but said cheerily 

‘no it’s ok it sweet, I mean your planet is build around technology so what you were thinking makes scents.’

Brainy then lifted his head and put his figures together as he normally did when discussing serous matters. 

‘So if you don’t mind my asking, what is the mistletoe for exactly.’

‘Well I don’t think it’s for anything but there is a tradition for when to people are under it.’

‘yes,yes what is it a prayer, a chant, a sacrificial ritual perhaps.’

‘No Brainy, and what would we even scarifies.’

‘many number of things like hair, valuables and..’

‘ok i get but no that’s not what it is.’

‘then what do you do under mistletoe.’

Kara’s mind made an evil thought she could not shake.

‘how about i just show you.’

‘ok.’

‘close you eyes.’

he did as she said he closed his eyes and put his hands at his side. Kara edged closer to him looking at the details in his face his sweet, soft face. she took one more step so that there was only centimetres between them. Kara then leans in to close the gap between them her lips gently pressing his, he pulled back of a second before realising what was happening. he then embraced the contact willingly, eagerly and with a bit of disbelief. Kara then pulled away from him, Brainy then opened is eyes to see Kara’s smiling face. 

‘that is what mistletoe is for.’

‘I see, are there any other traditions you could show me.’

‘sure.’

Brainy looked shyly at the ground 

‘are there any more that have mistletoe?

[cozycompositions]

@darthhope999 : Hi! How about Hamilton and John Laurens for 42? | Thank you for the request! <3 I hope you enjoy! [FIXED]

42: Sick on an empty stomach TW// Starvation, Unhealthy Weight Loss, Vomiting (Non-Eating Disorder Related)

Alexander’s stomach had long stopped growling. He no longer noticed the hunger, the pain. Winter was finally in full thrust on the colonies, and food was scarce. They barely had good meals in the summer, let alone in a blizzard. They did not bother pleading with Congress, not anymore. Sometimes they wondered if Congress even had any more than they did.

At the beginning of the season Alexander would sit at his desk desperately trying to avoid thinking about the hollow pit that was his stomach. He knew the other aides were in a similar predicament. He would tap his foot, hug his midsection, tense his muscles. He ached. Once he had glanced over at John Laurens who was almost in tears over a similar feeling.

After a few weeks the hunger ebbed into a dull throbbing ache, one that Alexander barely noticed. He was able to focus more on his work, less on food. The growling stopped too, he suspected this was not good in terms of his health. But, if it kept himself and others from being distracted from work, so be it.

He found this winter particularly cold, likely because of the fact that he was skin and bone. Alexander relied almost fully on Laurens for warmth at night. His fingers were often blue, his teeth chattering, his hairs standing up with the goose flesh. He also found himself becoming ill more often, much easier.

When they managed to find small scraps of food, Alexander could not keep it down. Laurens could recount when Alexander tried to take a few bites of corn, only to rush away to the washroom in order to empty his stomach.

This was reoccurring, after every meal Laurens found himself holding Alexander’s hair back as the poor boy retched, gently rubbing circles on his back in an attempt to relax him.

Tonight was no exception, with Alexander curled up on the floor after a particularity violent fit of vomiting.

“I think we need to find a better way to deal with this, dear boy,” John supplied lamely. He was leaning against the cot with his eyes closed. Hamilton nodded.

A knock sounded at the door and Hamilton pushed himself up into a seated position, lazily calling out a weak “come in”.

Lafayette entered the room brandishing two plates of plain rice and bread. It looked and smelled absolutely delicious (the soldiers didn’t get meals this fancy often).

“Hello, mon amis. I brought you some extra rations since you had to rush off,” Lafayette said with a cheeriness he should not have had at this time. “I’m sorry you are feeling so unwell, Alexandre,” he sobered to Hamilton. Alexander offered a silent thumbs up.

John took one plate from Lafayette as the frenchman set the other down on the bedside table, and handed it to Alexander.

“You should try to get something down,” he said as encouragingly as possible.

Hamilton looked down at the food worried. It smelled so good… but he couldn’t handle it. He shook his head violently as he suddenly began heaving again, though his stomach had nothing more to give up.

That’s when the blood came.

Red, splattered, and scarily final.

“I will find the medic!” Lafayette offered with a gasp as he sprinted from the room, a flurry of limbs that somehow wasn’t enough. Ever the dutiful one.

John rushed to Hamilton’s side, helping the blood from his mouth.

Alexander was shaking and pale, and clearly frightened.

“It’s alright, Alex, it’s okay,” John reassured the younger boy. He prayed he didn’t lie. What else could he do? “I’m sure you’ve just torn your throat.”

Alexander dissolved into a coughing fit, more specs of blood flying from his mouth as tears escaped his stinging eyes. John held him close.

What else could he do?

The doctor rushed in with Lafayette in tow. He pushed John’s arms away from a only semi-conscious Hamilton.

John could’ve thrown a fit.

He suddenly felt ill.

[ask-de-writer]

SEE STORY (Part 5 of 5) A tale from the World of Sea

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

See Story

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

Cover art by @wind-the-mama-cat​

14372 words

copyright 2023

All rights reserved.

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

//////////////

Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users   of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may   reblog the story. They may use the characters or original characters in   my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical   compositions. I will allow those who do commission art works to charge   for their images.

All sorts of Fan Activity, fiction, art, cosplay, music or anything else is ACTIVELY encouraged!

///////////////////////

Sea is a colony assumed lost somewhat over a thousand years before this tale opens.  They were sent on a one way trip, not knowing that there was no land at all on the whole world of Sea.  Thus, aside from humans, NO CREATURE OF SEA IS IN ANY WAY ITS NAMESAKE.  They were simply named for a superficial resemblance to some Earthly creature by the early colonists.

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New to SEE STORY?  Read from the beginning HERE.

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“Oh, look!  She has Strong Skins and Wing Rays and Orcas!  Buy me one, please Daddy!”

“Look, Kara, this girl has a model of a fishing smack, just like the one Mother uses.  Would you like it?”

It was not long before every one was sold.

A few sailors of the Grandalor wandered by, speaking loudly, “Make lots of toys, Longin!  They’re all that you’ll have next Gathering.  We pulled your best waters right out from under you in the Council Meeting.  Didn’t give squat for ‘em either.”  They linked arms and walked away, laughing.

Kurin came running up to Cat, in tears.  “Did they really take away our waters, Cat?”

Cat gathered the child into her arms and held her.  “Calm yourself, Little Fish … That’s it.”  She petted Kurin’s hair gently. “They think that they got our waters, Kurin.  That is not the same as getting our waters.  Where was the crab reef?”

Kurin wrinkled her brow in thought.  “We sailed south for most of the night with a good wind and all sail …” Her eyes lit up.  “It was in the buffer space between the Gula’s fishing waters and the Dolthin’s … They didn’t get it at all!”  She clapped her hands in glee.

“I know that you,” here Cat, smiling, gently touched Kurin’s nose, “can keep a secret, so I will tell you. We tricked them out of a whole fishing water of better reefs.  This is the most important thing to remember, though.  If they had not tried to cheat us we could not have turned the tables on them.  Always deal honestly, but never stupidly.”

The bazaar continued for days.  Everyone chaffered and bargained for the best deals that they could get.  

A small knot of sailors and officers had gathered a little way from the Longin’s booth, as they had for the last several days.  The people changed, but the group remained.  They were all there for the same reason.  The Longin’s Lady Luck could most often be seen there, though this Gathering, there was no telling where she might turn up.  Many were simply curious.  Others were thinking of courting her.

“See her, there back of the Longin booth?” pointed Mara, the new First Mate of the Fauline. “That’s her with the white hair, like fresh foam.”

“She’s the Longin’s Luck?  What a beauty!” said Torinsin, of the Gula’s rope walk.  “I heard that she’s blind and helpless, though … Dragons! Look, she just dragged that whole tub of lobsters up front by herself.  Don’t look helpless to me.”

“Lots of us been watching her.  She don’t act blind.  I wonder what the Grandalor’s up to this time.  Spreading lies like that?” speculated Morin, of the Grython, stroking his chin.  “Our Captain said that she would be welcome aboard.”

“Maybe they want to get her for themselves!” Mara put in.  “Maybe I should ask some of the Fauline’s crew to meet her.  Seems from what I’ve seen she’d be an asset to any crew.”

“I did hear that she’s marrying, gonna leave the Longin this year,” said Morin.

“That’s what’s up, for sure, then,” said old Ganther, the Dolthin’ Master Boatwright. “Grandalor is trying to grab the Longin’s Luck for themselves, and cut us all out.  Just like them.”

“Is she still available?  We have some good young men on the Gula that might do,” said Torinsin, eagerly.

“We all do!  I talked to Captain Mord already.  She’s bespoke,” said the Captain of the Grinna.

“What! What ship’s got her?  Who’s the lucky guy?” asked Torinsin, only slightly downcast, but still eager for gossip.

“They’re keeping it under their watch-caps until the night of the full moons,” said Forin, Grinna’s First Mate, stroking her hair and smiling a little at Torinsin’s expression.

“Has anybody thought to ask her direct?” asked Ganther, cutting to the heart of the matter.  “She’s easy to find, now.  First time in nineteen - twenty Gatherings that anybody’s seen her much.  Now, she’s all over the place.”

“I am, aren’t I?” said a cheerful voice, like splashing, flowing water.

The whole group jumped as if shocked by a Jolting Ray, and turned to see Cat, only a few feet away.

“So, tell us, who is it to be? What ship’s getting you?” asked Torinsin, eagerly.

“You all could have come to the Longin and courted me.  Nobody did.  I’m afraid that she’s right,” said Cat cheerfully, pointing to Forin.  “Come and see on the Weddings Night.”

“Did anybody ever tell you that you are cruel?” said Torinsin with a cheerful grin.

“One or two … hundred … so far,” replied Cat.  Then singling out Forin, she added,  “Come, take me to your booth.  You have some truly beautiful cloth that I would like to get.  What do you call those woven-in pictures? ”

“I believe that you mean our brocade …”  The two wandered off in the direction of the Grinna’s booth, chatting cheerfully.

The Longin finally ran out of shellfish.  By the night of the Full Moons, the Longin had sold everything that they had brought and were preparing to strike their booth.  Sold out or not, the other booths were being struck, too. The Gathering market was over and the space was needed.

As they were packing away empty tubs and lace spools, fabric bolt cores, and their awning, Cat noticed that Kurin was crying quietly.  Packing could wait a few minutes.

“Little Fish, why do you weep?”

“‘Cause tonight you’re going to marry somebody from off of the Longin, and I won’t see you anymore.”

“Kurin, Kurin Behar, come here,” and she wrapped her strong arms about the child.  “Come with us to the Weddings tonight and see my husband and love.  If you do, I will give you a present that you will always have to remember me by.  Besides, you may indeed see me from time to time.”

Kurin seized on that last.  “You mean it?  I’ll see you again, sometimes?  Promise?”

The Captains of the many ships of the Gathering Fleet were now escorting their young men and women of marriageable age to the rafts that had been the marketplace.  Most of those were going to meet people that they had been courting for at least several Gatherings.  Some were friends from childhood.  Only a few ships arranged marriages for advantage, without concern for the feelings of their young women and men.

Grandalor was such a ship, and as their marriage gigs rowed past the Longin on their way to the wedding barges, some of their women were openly sad.  There were a few among them, however, who rejoiced that they were leaving so oppressive a Captain as Barad.  Few of the young men looked happy at all.  Their marriages were bringing, not happiness for themselves, but skilled women for the Grandalor; cooks, weavers, ropers, sail-lofters, and all those other skills needed to maintain life on the Sea.

The Longin’s young folk felt sorry for the Grandalor’s, but they climbed cheerfully into their own gigs, going to meet those folk that they had chosen, and who had chosen them as well.   Cat was among their number, pulling an oar with a will.  Those who wished to watch the marriages followed in other boats, Kurin among them.

Everyone on the Wedding rafts were divided into four groups, to the north the brides, to the south the grooms, to the east, the Captains and officers and to the west those who came to watch and wish well.  That last group was by far the largest.  

There was little room left on the rafts.  A cheerful buzz of conversation drowned almost all else. Everyone knew that the Lady of the Longin’s Luck was due to marry, but to whom?  What ship would be lucky enough to have her?  It was clear that the Grandalor’s lies about Cat had been dispelled by all that people had seen her doing during the market.

The order of the ships was called.  This was the order in which the ships would bring forth their grooms to meet their brides.  The Longin was to be the last, by her own choice.  Many felt that the suspense was deliberate.

Night had fallen to star filled darkness and the Wedding Rafts were lit with lanterns.  Shortly after full dark, the eastern horizon began to glow.  Soon the limb of large Wohan appeared over the horizon.  Carsis followed and a few minutes later, little Dorac.  All three continued to rise together until, for a moment, all three moons sat, just touching the horizon.  Their light raced across water gone flat as glass, like three shafts of brilliance, converging on the Wedding Rafts.

There was a quiet that fell on all the watchers.  A woman could be heard telling her children quietly, “Remember this moment.  It will not happen again in your lifetime.  The Dragon’s Moons only rise once in a thousand Gatherings.”

The ceremonies began.  Sarfin, Captain of the Dorton called forth the Dorton’s grooms.  Their brides were called and, rejoicing, went to their loves.  When the roll was complete, the Dorton’s Ceremony of Marriage was spoken and the brides signed the Ship’s Articles as new crew-members.  Each ship had its own version of the ceremony.  Each Marriage from each ship took another bite of time.  It was growing late.

Finally, Mord of the Longin called the last of the grooms forth, and besides the brides for them, there was one more, still uncalled.  Cat would be left standing alone when the last of the Longin’s grooms had his wife.  Everyone could count, and the raft was absolutely buzzing as people figured this out.

The last bride went to the last groom, and Cat stood alone, dressed in a lovely brocade of white with black leaping Orcas.  Captain Mord came to her and said quietly, “Where is your groom?”

“He is here.  Marry my friends, and then you will see.”

Shrugging, Captain Mord went back to the grooms and new brides of the Longin and began the Ceremonies of Marriage.  Cat went to the spectators.

“Kurin!  Kurin!  Oh, there you are, Little Fish.   I promised you a present on my wedding night, and you shall have it.  Come with me.”

Trustingly, Kurin put her hand into Cat’s and followed her across the raft.  The Longin’s Ceremony was just done.  Captain Barad brayed, “I don’t see your groom!”  His voice was cut off by the flat smack of open hand to cheek.

Mord withdrew his stinging hand and said poisonously, “MECAT, my sister in all but blood, has said that he is here.  I believe her.” Turning to Cat, he said, “All of the marriages of this night but one are done.  What do you want me to do?”

“State for all my name, ship and crew.  My husband will make himself known.”

Turning to all the watchers, Captain Mord called out, “Cat, my sister in all but blood  … Her name in full, dictated by Custom and Law is Mecat  …  Of the Longin her whole life, Our Gift from the Sea … Of no crew because of the Dragon’s name you bear … Who have you chosen and who has chosen you?”

All about the raft, a dozen huge fifteen-ton Orca whales jumped at once, rising clear out of the water and falling back with a huge report and splashing of sea water.

“Stand just here, little one,” Cat whispered to Kurin.  “I will be back in a moment with your gift.  Trust me, you will come to no harm.”

Raising her arms, Cat cried out in a voice like storm waves toppled by the wind, “Iren! Dark Iren! Come forth and claim your bride!”  The ocean in front of her boiled and rushed aside as a huge Sea Dragon reared his head high in front of her.  

The creature was covered with large black scales the size of a man’s hand.  Spines ran down his back and frills adorned his head.  There were large tendrils about the fanged mouth.  Big dark, intelligent eyes gleamed from deep set sockets.  Orcas rose with him to the surface.

Cat dove joyfully into the water and was gone.  A minute passed and then two.  A well-meaning woman, one of the Longin’s new brides, tried to lead Kurin away.

“Come, Dear.  She is gone.  As long as she has been under, she must be drowned.”

Kurin confidently shook off the kindly hand.  “She told me to wait.  This is a short dive for Cat. I’ve seen her do five minutes before.”  Mystified by Kurin’s response, the woman waited with her.

The water swirled, and a second Sea Dragon rose up.   This Dragon was pale, like new sea-foam, but scaled spined and frilled like the other.  It had eight foot jaws, with two-foot fangs and eyes that were completely blank.  It was blind. The monster head thrust toward Kurin, who refused to run.  The woman fled in terror.  Powerful tendrils about the Dragon’s mouth grabbed Kurin, and hugged her.  Kurin, with a squeal of delight, tried to hug the massive snout.

“Oh, Cat!  You’re back, just like you said.”

Blind Mecat, the Great Sea Dragon gently put the child down.  “I have your gift, Kurin.  Just stand for a moment.”  The enormous jaws opened and a breath like fog came out and enveloped the child.  As the breeze blew it away, everyone looked in amazement.  Kurin’s hair, once dark, was now the color of new sea-foam.

~THE END~

<==Previous

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

[mimic-from-the-lab]

Blood and Ruin Chapter 5

Also found on Archive.

Summary:

Set on earth.

Ex futuristic-ish world, apocalyptic. Where the world was broken apart due to bio-flesh monsters, normal life fell apart and the population is scattered in far smaller towns and cities after a mass death. There are still scattered parts of old tech of the modern world as a way to fight back if it can be put back together.

–

Biohorror vampires for the disassembly drones and normal humans for workers.

— Chapter 1 —

<Previous—–Next>

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***Warning: The start of some blood and gore***

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Chapter 5

Uzi didn’t think of herself as a stupid person, she was smarter than her classmates in the things that mattered. She knew their history better, how to build things with what was left behind. While most of the class families were part of the backbones of the colony, not many were builders. The one thing that was needed if humans were going to take back their world. She was laughed at for being weird for it.

In the moments of walking into the dark, she knew she was stupid, maybe she would be safe at home and with a better relationship with her dad if she listened. She supposed then it wouldn't be her.

Uzi shone the light first, seeing the pile as it was left with nothing moving inside. She sighed in relief, he would likely still be there. Walking around to get to the front of the pile in a frown, trying to make sure her breathing didn’t get too loud. Getting ready for the encounter, she walked straighter. Ready to demand.

She found the spot empty, now with a grove scratched out in front of it. She stared at it. He had a lot of time to escape, she supposed. She was a bit impressed but quickly realised that it only meant one thing, soon overcome with the feeling of danger. She went to back up if something hadn’t dropped off the roof, landing behind her. She spun in time for her arm to be grabbed and she froze looking back. The vampire stood in place, looking down on her. Covered in dust and likely got out recently. Not even enough time to dust himself off. She realised as she stared up that not only was he pale, but it was the complete lack of colour. Albino. His white hair was odd but everything made sense with his red eyes. She was sure the sun would destroy him the moment he got outside.

Uzi chuckled a bit in nervousness. ‘Hey, you,’ she said and her arm was let go, more out of the man's surprise than anything else. ‘Told you I would be back,’ she said and it only then realised that he had a foot on her in height, she swallowed and watched him continue to look down on her in confusion. Uzi frowned a bit. ‘What, have you never been talked to before?’ she asked and something in him clicked as if his situation came crashing down on him. He looked back out the way she came in. ‘More wondering how I got in this situation,’ he muttered and seemed to be listening out for something, causing his ears to twitch and since he turned his head Uzi clearly could see that his ears were a bit longer and came to a point. She could have stared at that a bit longer if movement further down hadn’t gotten her to find a tail sway with quick movements behind him. Uzi took time to back away, for now, trying to figure out what to do next. Her whole plan had been based on the vampire still being stuck. She needed to get out, to get out into the sun. That would surely work, she hoped.

She didn’t want to turn to leave and not see an attack coming so she tried backing away slowly, in hopes she wouldn’t be noticed. It likely didn’t matter how quiet she was as he looked back to where she had been and then right for her. ‘No harm done, I bothered you enough,’ she tried and the man frowned. ‘I can’t let you leave and tell people,’ he said and turned to her. ‘I was meant to stay out of sight, you weren’t supposed to find me so now I can’t just let you leave.’ Uzi frowned. ‘You should have had a better hiding spot then, bit higher next time,’ she said and his frown deepened, he turned and took a step to her. ‘Hey no, stay back,’ she hissed out and held her torch ready to start swinging if needed.

She knew she couldn’t do much, and so did he, as another step was taken. Uzi’s heartbeat lept, no way in her control as her fight or flight instincts fought each other in the back of her mind. She lifted both the light and camera up, with no time to actually see what she was taking a photo of. The flash did go off as he took a step forward to grab her. Directly into his eyes in a panicked move but she knew it had to work, he reeled back in a hiss. Flight won and she dashed to start running into the building behind her, she didn’t see him cover his eyes in pain. How she would have had time to get around and out in the right direction, with how he couldn’t see with his eyes. She had run into the building that could just be a dead-end. The vampire just managed to get some sight back to see her turn the corner of the building. He had to rush after her, and couldn't let her get away. Ignoring the tripping hazard the ground was to open up his wings, jumping the obstacles with a beat of them to give chase.

Uzi ran looking for another exit, one that could appear around the next corner as she cursed whoever designed the building. As well as anyone from the past that had blocked doorways she tried to open, she had to keep moving with each unmoving door or a caved-in doorway. Only to turn a corner and find the last two doors on either side at the end, checking one and having it locked. She turned to try to kick the other one to be knocked open with enough space for an arm to wiggle by. It was also being blocked but by something far more solid on the other side.

She turned, the dead end mocking her from behind. Trying to put away the camera in a rush as the vampire slid to a stop at the realisation she had been trapped, now there they both stood looking at the other. The man didn’t seem happy about the whole situation, looking like he hoped she had gotten away. A decision happened behind his eyes, shook himself out of it and he held out a hand, Uzi could see even at the other end of the hallway that the hand twisted in on itself to grow claws into its place to replace it. Making the fingers longer and white blades at the end. Maybe bone.

Uzi just dropped the light in shock, first trying to understand what had happened. If what she had seen was correct. First the fleshy mass when he had been up on the roof, now transforming flesh. She flicked her body around to make the gun spin around, to grab hold of it with one hand while having the other free. No better time to test what should work, a strong should.

She looked down on the part she had rushed installed last night, hardly good for it but time was running out. She could only raise it up to aim. It should have been an easy shot, just down a hallway. But the vampire had jumped up and against a support beam to bounce off. He lept off and right into the floor in front of her, meant to swing his tail around but the force was too much and the flooring fractured. The hallway crumbled into the one below, the vampire managed to scramble back up and looked down as dust filled the area. A green light filled the area and if the vampire had known the danger then he would have ducked away, instead, he leaned forward more. Waiting for the dust to clear. Maybe he had already killed her with just the fall. He tilted his head a bit as it cleared enough for both Uzi and him to look at each other, very much not dead and glaring up while aiming on her back. ‘Bite me,’ she hissed. The trigger was pulled and a beam of energy blasted up and into the ceiling. Only after recovery from being blinded did Uzi see the damage, right through the vampire's head.

It wasn’t centred. Having shot through the bottom half of his head cutting into the neck just leaving the top part of the head alone. The man's body seemed to have figured out what had happened, as it started to sway with the loss of function. Swaying forward too far, the weight caused it to tip forward and into the hole with her. Uzi realised far too late, as it came crashing down on her. Screaming out as she tried to rush out of the way, being far too slow and her foot caught on rubble to help slow her. The bottom part of the body crushing down on her, pinning her right into place. Right into a crevice that had her trapped between larger pieces of rubble.

Uzi tried to push the body off her, shivering at the feeling of blood soaking her arm and shoulder, being the closest to be affected by the spreading blood puddle. She looked up to hiss out a swear at it but froze at the mess that seemed to be growing back. She didn't know what looked like small tendrils seemed to grow out, it caused a panic as she fought again to push it away. She only managed to get an arm out. She looked back to the body as it continued to regrow. At a second glance, it was likely arteries, everything being regrown from the body. She was exhausted, she had to wait and hope to slip away.

Uzi was starting to feel sick, not only due to the smell of blood but as watched the blood that flowed out onto the ground crawl back to the vampire, and to top it all off. The body seemed to be shifting internally, whatever it needed to do to heal itself taking his whole body to work.

Uzi held her lips together as the vampire twitched and pushed himself back up in a gasp, claws having turned back to hands and he found a floor piece next to them to hold on to with one as the other held at his throat. She watched as he struggled with being upright, eyes closed but seemed hollow. As if there was nothing in the space yet. She was sure that the beam hadn’t even hit that high up, unless the heat alone just cooked the area beyond. Not really a thought she wanted to have.

He was still alive however and trying to regenerate, would also likely become aware rather soon. Uzi rushed to ready her gun, only to find a cooldown timer. She wanted to scream, but she wasn't even sure if the vampire could hear her. She got herself up, testing with a scuffle of feet. When nothing came of it she looked up to the floor above, finding a wall to climb back up. Luckily with the way the floor fell apart meant that there was a ladder of rubble to get her back up with ease, as long as she avoided the jagged pieces of steel that poked out. She barely got her gun back over her shoulder to ready to climb only to hear a groan. Turning she found the vampire rubbing at his head and looking around. Clearly confused as he took in the damage.

‘You don’t happen to know what happened here do you?’ he asked and looked at her, he was squinting as if he still couldn’t see properly. ‘Do you remember anything?’ Uzi asked in worry, her foot up ready to climb if need be. ‘My name is…,’ he paused for a moment to rub at his forehead. ‘N.’ he sounded unsure and looked up at her. ‘Do I know you?’ Uzi gave a nervous smile. ‘Great, fried your brain,’ she mumbled and sighed out, partly out of relief and annoyance. He tilted his head in question, his hair did look a bit singed on the side he was blasted with. At least the part that hadn’t grown back properly. ‘What was that?’ he asked and she cleared her throat. ‘We only just met and I was about to leave actually,’ she said instead and started to climb. She looked back to find N following after, her heart jumped at the sight of him so close. ‘Don’t follow me,’ she hissed out and watched the vampire recoil for a moment, as he blinked in confusion. ‘Weren’t we working together?’ he asked, she needed to leave him behind. ‘Ah no, we really did just meet,’ she said and scrambled up, getting on top of and looked down to find him still stuck in the spot on the bottom. ‘Stay here, for like ten minutes.’ N looked up confused before following up either way. ‘Hey,’ she called out and he looked over as he got his arms over the edge. ‘I may not remember but, I am rather sure that I am meant to stick with you,’ he said and she backed up a bit. ‘What were we doing just before this?’ ‘Really not all that important, actually better that you don’t know,’ she said quickly and found that she couldn’t turn to leave, ended up doing a weird side shuffle. ‘Are you okay?’ N asked in worry, taking one hand in the other and used his thumb to rub at the skin. Looking at her as if he had concern for her.

She stared at this, no way this was the same person that just tried to hunt her down not ten minutes ago. It could just be an act, trying to get her to lower her guard around him. ‘Walk next to me,’ she ordered and turned a bit to show that she was about to leave, something in him lit up as he smiled. Uzi wanted to question that but he stood waiting next to her without a complaint, his tail wagging a bit. She tried to ignore that to start moving, he moved with and easily within her sight. ‘So,’ N started, the silence hadn’t settled for long enough and it made Uzi jump. ‘Are you a new member of the team?’

Okay, she could work with this.

-----

<Previous—–Next>

[project1939]

200 Films of 1952

Film number 198: Against All Flags

Release date: Dec 24th, 1952 

Studio: Universal 

Genre: adventure 

Director: George Sherman, Douglas Sirk 

Producer: Joseph Hoffman, Aeneas MacKenzie  

Actors: Errol Flynn, Maureen O’Hara, Anthony Quinn 

Plot Summary: A British naval officer goes undercover on the coast of Madagascar to break up an infamous colony of pirates. Claiming to be a deserter, he works to win their trust. Things take an unusual turn when he meets a very unexpected pirate- a gorgeous, strong-willed, sword fighting woman! 

My Rating (out of five stars): ***¼  

I can tell you why I enjoyed this film in two words: Maureen O’Hara. Wait! Make it three words: Maureen O’Hara’s outfits! Put O’Hara in trousers and high boots, and I am lost. Lost! She was so dazzlingly beautiful, I had trouble focusing on much else. Thankfully, the rest of the film was just bright high-energy fun. It wasn’t particularly remarkable, but it breezed by quickly and never got tiresome. It may even be one of my favorite pirate movies from 1952. (minor spoilers)

The Good: 

Maureen O’Hara! Normally I’m not a big fan of hers; although undeniably striking, she’s such a man’s woman type. Here she was swaggering around in pirate garb, taking no shyte from nobody, and I fell in love. Amid so much sexually harassing behavior by men in the media in 1952, I wanted to jump for joy when her character pushed Flynn away and said- “I kiss when I feel like kissing, and see that you remember that!” 

Prudence “Spitfire” Stevens, the character O’Hara played, was one of my favorites of this project. She was sexually in charge, she could handle her own with men, she was good with a sword... everything about her was the opposite of a wilting little damsel. This lady would never let John Wayne drag her across the ground by her arms and hair! 

My favorite quote, spoken by O’Hara: “I was a fool to think that you might be different from the others- swaggering, misbegotten bullies who think that a girl is without pride of her own- just something to satisfy their selfish lusts and vanities because she’s weaker! Well, I’m not weaker! I go after what I want, just like they do. I can defend my own self-respect, and if any man dares to damage it, I’ll shoot the eyes out of his head- both of them!!” !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

The Technicolor looked amazing. It especially made the costumes look good. 

The plot was briskly paced, entertaining, and lively. You might even say it was buoyant? Ha! Couldn’t resist the pun. 

Most of it was clearly filmed on sets, even the scenes at sea, but it looked noticeably better than Blackbeard the Pirate, which I watched only a couple of days ago. 

The scene where all the sabotaged cannons fire was also one of my favorites. 

The Bad: 

Errol Flynn was a bit too old for the role, in my opinion. He looked quite weathered and a little paunchy, making his swashbuckling scenes less convincing. It was kind of a sad reminder of the prowess and agility he used to have. In his younger days, he made my knees weak, but he didn’t age as gracefully as someone like Cary Grant. (Who does?!) Flynn was also severely alcoholic by this time, and he wasn’t sober during filming, which definitely didn’t help. He could still be charming and appealing, though. 

Anthony Quinn didn’t have enough to do! I love Quinn, but all his character really got to do here was snarl. 

Flynn and O’Hara didn't have much chemistry. O’Hara told stories later of how Flynn would be so drunk in the afternoon, she had to do her love scene close-ups across from a flag with an X marked on it, while a script girl read Flynn’s lines! So the lack of chemistry shouldn’t be surprising, I guess! 

The sword fighting, while not bad, was a little underwhelming sometimes. 

A white girl playing the role of a Southeast Asian princess? Of course, this is Hollywood! (Hey! It was Alice Kelley- I was kind of mean about her acting ability in Francis Goes to West Point. She was much improved here.) 

So the pirates raid a ship with the sign of Islam on the flag, yet the ruling princess inside is surrounded by Hindu statues? 

Do harems have Irish governesses? 

It was definitely gross to see a teenage girl and a man who looked 50 kiss each other. 

The scene of auctioning off captured harem girls as wives was horrifying. It was played almost comedically when a kidnapped teenaged girl was bought by a slovenly, stupid, ugly man at least 15 years older than her. There were even jokes about the wedding night! It was really a rape auction for god’s sake! It was disgusting and infuriating, and the only girl actually saved from that fate was the princess.

[all-the-things-2020]

All Our Future Prospects - Chapter Thirteen

Summary: Two years later, Claire gets a visitor from the past.

Rating: PG-13

The flight from Galadon to Paddington was uneventful. Claire spent most of her time in her bunk, after a few abortive attempts to read in the lounge. Between the preponderance of crappy romance novels in the meager library and the unwanted attentions of a fellow passenger who seemed to think he was the most attractive man in the galaxy (he wasn’t, and the rest of the women on the flight seemed to agree), she had preferred to spend her time alone, letting her emotions get the better of her. It was almost decadent the way she wallowed in her grief and yearning.

At Paddington, she’d been quickly briefed and sent straight onto a FlanCorp shuttle to her next assignment, preparing lab specimens on an industrial moon colony near the swirling red and purple gas giant Theseus. Sealed in a dome with artificially enhanced gravity, the lab made her feel like a specimen herself, pinned under glass.

She had her hair trimmed to a sensible length but it didn’t feel right. Even as she settled into the familiar routine of lab work, she felt decidedly unsettled.

She received two messages from Cee, not very long because of the exorbitant messaging rates for intergalactic communication. She replied back just as concisely: “I’m doing well. I miss you, too. Tell Ezra I love him.” And then three months into the rotation, an industrial espionage incident rocked FlanCorp, causing the company’s stock to tumble and instigating a lockdown on all communication outside the corporation.

Her next rotation was number crunching in a cubicle on Waterloo Station, followed by a specimen gathering expedition on Vesta Prime, where FlanCorps had the exploration rights to a scrubby, parched section of the largest continent. It was while in that bare bones camp that the communications lockdown was lifted, and she was able to send a quick message to Cee. But it came back with the terse notation “Recipient Unknown.” She’d sent a follow up message to the school, spending far more than she could afford to fully explain her concern. In reply she got only two brief sentences: “No current student by this name. Unable to release information on past student rosters.”

Now, she was on Thalassia, crunching the numbers on someone else’s research yet again. The bio-dome was spacious and full of plants, having been built originally as residential space for retirees from one of the bigger corps. After the Big Crunch a few decades back, it had been sold off and was now leased in chunks to smaller corps for research and development and other office space.

She had a cubicle with a small window looking out onto a courtyard full of planters. Her desk was less cramped than many others she’d been assigned to, and there was a shelf where she kept a potted blue-fern and her now slightly battered owl figurine. She rose each morning in her apartment, walked to work, stared at her terminal for hours, scribbled notes, and walked home in the evenings. It was a tidy little life, and there had been a time when it would have been all she could wish for.

She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. After that first cut, she’d let her hair grow out. It was now long enough to pull back in a short braid or ponytail, but there were always strands that had a mind of their own. She’d tried pins and barrettes, but they always slid loose and so she’d given up, only tidying the wayward bits when they fell into her face and interfered with her work.

“Are you sure you won’t join us?”

It was her cubicle neighbor, Nathan.

“Yes, I’m sure,” she replied. Several of the members of their team were going out for dinner in celebration of a birthday. “I want to get this section finished before I stop for the night.”

Nathan shook his head. “The work will still be there tomorrow, Claire,” he said. “Look, we all admire your work ethic and dedication to the corp, blah, blah, blah, but you’ve got to live a little now and then.”

“I did,” she said, staring at her screen, trying not to look at the owl on her shelf, or let her hand move to the pendant hanging from her neck. “I got it out of my system. Now go and have fun with the others. Tell Gilbert happy birthday.”

He shrugged and walked away, leaving her alone with the numbers on her terminal, which blurred for a moment as she forced back the tears that had welled up in her eyes.

Once, during that second rotation, she’d tried to cut loose a little. She’d joined a handful of fellow workers for a drink after hours, had even allowed one of them to flirt with her a bit, but it had felt wrong. Thoughts of Ezra had loomed in her mind, and the crushing weight of guilt at even thinking about another man had sent her to her quarters under pretext of a headache. She’d ended up with a real one, after crying herself to sleep.

Ever since, she’d done her best to forget him, to focus on her work and only her work. She had no idea where he was. Cee was no longer at school on Galadon; they could be anywhere or nowhere, together or apart.

She worked for another half hour or so, scribbling computations on her scratch pad and tapping her results onto the keypad of her terminal. With everyone else gone, the workroom was quiet, and she was able to concentrate on the numbers. When she heard the outer door open, she sighed.

“I told you I didn’t want to go,” she called out. It was probably Lynette, who was always coming up with cockeyed team building exercises, even though the members of their team were all working independently on different sets of data.

“I haven’t asked anything yet.” It was not Lynette, or anyone else on her team. It was a voice she hadn’t heard for nearly two years. She dropped her pencil and swiveled her chair around. It was him.

Ezra stood just inside the doorway, leaning casually against the wall, his arms — arms plural! — crossed on his chest, a smile playing tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You are incredibly hard to track down, little owl,” he said. “Of course, I put much of the blame on the bureaucracy of the corporation …”

She jumped out of her chair and ran across the room, launching herself into his arms like Cee had done on that day long ago on Galadon. “Ezra! But how — your arm — where’s Cee?” She was babbling but she didn’t care.

Ezra wrapped her in a tight hug and chuckled into her ear. “I will explain it all to you, my dearest one,” he said, “but for now suffice it to say that Cee is safely at home on Galadon and I am here with you.” He kissed her and she forgot everything at the taste of his lips.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” she murmured when they came up for air.

“I am,” he said softly, kissing her nose. “And I’ve had a long journey and you’ve had a long day of work. I propose we find ourselves some sustenance and I can answer all your questions over dinner.”

She laughed. “Always food with you,” she said, trailing her fingers over his scruff. How she’d missed the soft hairs that framed his chin, the little bare patch on the left side that was the perfect spot for a kiss. She gently placed one there, hearing the familiar hum of pleasure from Ezra that always sent a jolt of desire through her body.

“Without food, we cannot survive,” he said. “And if we don’t eat soon, I fear we will find our way to a private place to satisfy another sort of hunger, and then we will waste away, leaving Cee bereft and alone.”

She ran her hand over his stomach, which while firm and muscular, had a layer of middle aged flab, just like her own. “It would take a long time for us to starve to death,” she said.

“And yet, we would,” he said, his voice hot and buzzing in her ear. “I would forsake food and drink and sunlight and air for the chance to be one with you again.”

She couldn’t breathe for a moment, every nerve ending her body short circuited by his words. “I think we can spare enough time to eat and talk before we get to that,” she finally managed to say.

“Good,” Ezra said with a laugh. “Because honestly, little owl, I am starving!” Right on cue, his stomach growled, which made her laugh as well.

“Let’s feed the beast,” she said, patting his belly again. “I know a little pho place not far from here that has generous portions. And private booths.”

******************************************************

The scent of broth filled Ezra’s nostrils as the server placed steaming bowls in front of them. He hadn’t eaten for almost ten hours, and the soup was a lovely sight to behold. And yet still not as lovely as the woman sitting across from him. His eyes drank her in, his beloved little owl. He could hardly believe she was really there; so many times over the past two years, he’d imagined her, wondered where she was and what she was doing and now she was here in front of him, her eyes shining as she ignored her meal to concentrate on him. He was an incredibly lucky man, in more ways than one.

“Eat,” he said, picking up his spoon. “Let’s get some sustenance into our bellies before we get down to the hard work of catching up on lost time.”

“You can start with that,” she said, nodding at his right hand, which held the spoon deftly now, a far cry from his first pitiful attempts at using the prosthetic.

“I will,” he promised. “But for now … eat.”

The pho was delicious, and once he started in on it, he couldn’t stop. Claire smiled at him. “You really are hungry,” she said softly.

“One tends to forget about quotidian things like food when one is focused on a noble goal,” he replied, slurping a noodle into his mouth.

She gave him a sly look. “I wouldn’t call getting me into bed a noble goal,” she said.

He shook his head. Same old Claire, full of wit and just a hint of naughtiness. “Although that is one of my more immediate goals,” he admitted, “it is not the ultimate one. As you will soon learn. But now, let me finish my meal in peace.”

He savored the last bits of the soup, taking his time just to aggravate her. He knew she was impatient to learn what he had been up to, but he liked making her wait just a bit longer. She’d done the same to him on occasion, usually in bed, and turn about was always fair play.

He drank the last of the broth and put down his bowl. Claire raised her eyebrows expectantly and he relented.

“Let me begin with this,” he said, holding up his new right hand, flexing the fingers. He was quite used to it now, but there were still moments when he looked at it in astonishment.

He told her how he’d broken down and told Cee about the offer from MedCorps, how Cee had hounded him to at least contact them and find out more details. How he had relented and found the contract acceptable, had left Cee behind at school while he flew off to a MedCorps station on one of the more prestigious worlds and submitted to experimentation in exchange for the promise of a new, fully functional limb.

He glossed over the pain of the nerve grafts that left him drugged to the gills and still writhing in his narrow bed, his left arm strapped down to keep him from tearing at the fierce burning where his stump met the prosthetic. He omitted the anti-rejection meds that made him so sick to his stomach that he could hardly eat for three weeks. But he did tell her about the long days of therapy where he learned to use the new arm, how it slowly went from a dead weight to a true part of him. And the reams of data MedCorps extracted from him, the knowledge that would be used to not only help others but to make the corporation more profitable.

“I was only able to understand about three-quarters of the science they threw at me,” he admitted. “But the technology is impressive. A true fusion of the human nervous system and cybernetic artistry. It’s all gears and pulleys and wires in there, but my brain thinks it’s muscle and sinew.”

“It’s amazing,” Claire said, reaching out for his hand. He slid his fingers between hers. It was an odd sensation; he could feel her hand, but it was as if he had a permanent surgical glove over his skin, a ghostly barrier between them. It was real and not real at the same time. He’d gotten used to it when working with objects, but it was disorienting now that he was skin to skin (so to speak) with another human. A little shudder ran through his arm.

“What’s wrong?” Claire asked, loosening her hold. “Did I hurt you? Is it still sensitive?”

“No, no,” he said, shaking his head, as much to clear his brain as to emphasize his words. “It’s hard to explain. I can feel you but I can’t feel you.” He squeezed her hand. “I have complete control of the hand and arm, but the sensors in the skin aren’t as sensitive as nerve endings. It’s like wearing a glove all the time.”

She nodded, a slight furrow between her brows as she tried to understand. After a moment, she brought her other hand up and took his left. This felt right, familiar, their fingers intertwining as they had so many times before. He could feel her warmth, the lines on her palm, the subtle movement of tendons and bones beneath her skin. This was home.

“Did you go back to Galadon?,” she asked. “I lost contact with Cee when the corp went on communication lockdown, and when I was finally able to get a message out, the school said she wasn’t there any more.”

He nodded, still marveling at her touch. “I did, and Cee is still there, but no longer at school.” He wasn’t quite sure how to explain the next part coherently.

“Did — did you run out of money?” Claire asked carefully. “Because you left for a year?”

“Well, yes,” Ezra admitted, “but that’s not why she left school. I could have paid her tuition month by month, but circumstances favored a different path for us.” He bit his lower lip. It was harder than he’d expected.

Claire let go of his hands and sat back. “Take your time,” she said.

“On the way back to Galadon, after my contract with MedCorps was fulfilled,” he began, “I struck up a conversation with a gentleman with whom I had a few acquaintances in common.” As he started talking, it got easier, and he was soon in storytelling mode, unspooling the events for her.

He told her about the man’s inside information about a tempting new prospecting opportunity, and how when he’d mentioned it to Cee she’d immediately seen the unique possibility that presented itself to them.

“It was her idea to leave school and enter an apprenticeship with Ms Goode the bookbinder,” he said. “She’d done a few extra curricular projects with her while I was gone and the two of them agreed she has a future in the craft. And it was also Cee’s idea for me to come here, after the mission was completed.”

Claire raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small vial, half filled with tiny metal pellets. It still boggled his mind that such a dull looking material was worth so much more than silver or gold or any other shiny substance in the known universe.

“This is noridium,” he said. “An extremely rare element, a metal more highly prized than gold or platinum or any of the lanthanides. Absolutely vital for the new generation of cybernetics that are in the works. It was discovered less than a century ago and only a few deposits of any note have been found. The most recent one is on the fourth moon of Cerberus Seven.”

“That’s really new territory,” she said, picking up the vial. “Only two surveys have been in that system so far.”

He nodded. “And no one owns the rights to the so-called Blue Moon yet,” he said. “Or at least, they didn’t until a few weeks ago. It now belongs to MegaCorps, like so much of that sector.”

“How much is this worth?,” she asked, turning the vial around and around.

He quoted the exorbitant amount currently on record with the exchanges. “That’s for pure noridium,” he said. “This is slightly impure, maybe six or seven percent short, so a bit less.”

“And how did you get hold of it?”

He smiled. “That is a tale in and of itself, but we will save that for a later time. For now, I shall give you the basic details: Noridium is found in certain types of rock, and is usually extracted by crushing tons of ore, processing it with chemicals and other methods of varying toxicity, and then throwing out everything except the noridium residue. It is expensive and time consuming and very dangerous to anyone not safely encased in the control rooms of the gargantuan machinery that only a large corp can afford. However … on the Blue Moon, we had a small assist from Nature herself.

“There are a few places where the noridium bearing rocks have weathered into gravel and sand and — most importantly for our purposes — soil. And in these places, there lives a curious creature, a type of worm something like the great sand worms in the old Dune novels, although these are much more diminutive.” He suppressed a grin at Claire’s rapt expression. He was in full lecture mode and she was in full scientist mode, soaking in knowledge about the universe. “Like most worms and such, these creatures burrow through the ground, ingesting soil, digesting the organic bits and excreting the rest out the back end. With one important exception.” He lifted the vial. “Noridium is heavy. It settles in a pouch in the digestive tract of these worms and is stored there until the pouch is full. At that point, the worms expel it. As pellets. Which means the erstwhile prospector needs not industrial machinery but the simpler technology of shovel and sifter. Lots of digging, lots of lifting, but also — a lot of reward if you can find the right spot.”

“How long were you there?” Claire asked.

“About six standard months.”

“And this is all you got? For six months’ work?”

Now he laughed out loud. “No, no, this is merely a sample. The rest of my haul — all ten kilos of it — is locked in the safe in my hotel room.”

“Not on Galadon? Why did you bring it with you?”

“Because I’m here to bring you home, little owl,” he said.

[primevein]

The Prime of His Youth: Book III: Prometheus' Gift: Ch36: Familiarity

Japheth strode into the First Basin, and stopped. Arcelia bumped into him from behind. "I should have wondered why you didn't tell me her name?" Japheth asked without looking back.

"Surprise." Tethys said neutrally.

"Why would you want to come with me?" Japheth asked.

"Why do you think I would oppose you?" she asked.

"Because you did?" Japheth asked her.

"My vote against you was not a vote against you." she said, and paused, and he gave her a curious look, "It was a vote against the unknown."

"You want to support me because I'm a Prime?" he firmly asked, and Arcelia leaned to look around under his arm. Tethys nervously looked away. "If that is the only reason you are supporting me?.."

Tethys steeled herself and looked him strongly in the eyes, "I will not deny that your being a Prime is a significant reason I am willing to support you, but equally important is how you have acted. You have made your requests of us, and they have always been requests. Then you allow us every liberty in discussing and amending it. You have allowed us - allowed our Parliament - to keep control, to keep our culture. You have worked to protect us more than the Battle Sisters. Because of what you do, when we have more direct contact with other Cybertronian colonies, we will be able to keep our cultural isolation. It's not just established that we disallow non-femmes to live here, but that this has the direct support of Japheth Prime.

"Caminus is a treasure, a jewel. I would hate myself if we lost it."

Tethys eyes grew wide with surprise and admiration. "And you find another way to impress me." she uttered. "Have I proven that I'm worthy to join your expedition?"

"You've proven you want to." Japhet said with a smile and pause, "If I'm going to try and contact Cybetronian civilizations, why would I need a hydrologist?"

"In case you encounter other sentient organics." she simply replied.

"Then wouldn't that be better served for a follow-up expedition?" he asked, and she wasn't sure what to say. "You are anti-social, which I already have enough of." he said, and she seemed lost. "I'm not trying to be an asshole, here." he said, and she seemed confused. "Potato in your tailpipe?" he asked.

"We don't naturally have tail pipes." Arcelia said as she still looked around him.

"Then what would be the best way to say it?" Japheth asked, looking at his raised arm without seeing Arcelia.

"Scrapper?" she asked.

Japheth looked back at Tethys, "I'm not trying to be a scapper, but you haven't actually given me a reason to take you. At least on the first expedition. If we find a sentient species, then there will likely be a second expedition, and your services will be needed." A pregnant paused followed after it. "Half of Caminus wants comes with me." he simply stated.

"A bit..." Tethys uttered.

"Fine, a quarter." Japheth stated.

"Over a quarter." Arcelia said from under his arm.

"I was trying to be modest." he said, an then looked back at Tethys. "I cannot take even a fraction of the femmes that want to come with me. Unless you wanted to convince me to add an operational hydroponic system to allows us to feed hypothetical Humans." he uttered, and she gave him an utterly shocked look. "Human drystores can last for essentially forever. The meat could be frozen. Hydroponics to provide fresh vegetables would not only make sense, but help with oxygen generation." She stood, stunned. "It's a great idea. I should have thought of it."

Japheth gently turned, pausing when he touched Arcelia. She turned to walk away, and he turned to follow her.

* * *

They walked into a greenhouse that Jaune swore had not existed before. He saw a femme with what looked like a blonde pony tail coming down over her right shoulder. He just paused as he looked at her. "You like it?" the femme asked. "I grew enamoured with the concept."

"Is that... actually hair?.." Japheth asked.

"Well, thank you for that, but of course not." she replied, "We were able to send data to the T-Cog, and create it with my mesh."

"Well, it's beautiful." Japheth stated. He could swear he saw her blushing, but he knew that Cybertronians couldn't. She did seem to have a glow.

"Come in, come in!" she said, and waved him inside.

"I swear this wasn't here..." he uttered.

"It wasn't." she brightly said. "After we agreed to allow Humans on a our world, it was obvious they needed to be fed, and so we give you golden wheat, the sacred staple of the Europeans."

Japheth looked about the greenhouse, and it was rows of wheat being grown hydroponically. It was about as wide as a combine harvester, which looked so tiny for Japheth's new form. Something suddenly occured to him, "You are growing it hydroponically?! I thought that was impossible? Impractical?"

"For Humans, maybe?" she asked, "But this would prevent a potential ecological catastrophe."

"I'm sorry, what was you name?" he asked, and she immediately looked afraid.

"I'm so sorry!"

"So Sorry, I am Japheth Prime." he said, and held out his hand.

"Oh, yes, Human handshakes." she said, and eagerly took his hand. The two shook.

"So, So Sorry?" he asked, and turned to look at the wheat, "What kind of yield are you expecting?"

"We have an acre of usable er... land?.. water?" she asked, "If we can get 46 bushels, it will be equivalent of US..." she paused, and looked at him, completly lost and confused.

"Match the US." Japheth affirmed, "So, tell me, So Sorry, you're not expecting anything more?.."

Arcelia stepped up beside him, "Just tell him, already." she said to the femme.

She looked Japheth in the face, looking afraid. "Are you saying your name is not So Sorry?" he asked. She tried to say something, but failed. "Well, I need to call you something?" he asked. Again, she looked afraid. He sighed, and then pulled her in for a hug. Without letting go, "What is your name." he asked her.

"Sif." she barely uttered.

"A beautiful name." he said, and gently let her go. She slowly pulled away from him. "And now for the tough one, why do you want to come with me?" She looked at him, but couldn't speak, "Have you talked to Tethys in the past?.." he asked, and looked at Arcelia.

"Microcycle." Arcelia said.

"I should really get used to this." he said, and looked back at Sif, and she just stared at him nervously. "I'll take that as a no. I will say I'm impressed." She just stared at him. "Oh, man, she's just adorable."

"Arcee might have an objection with that." Arcelia neutrally stated.

"Yeah..." he voiced. He paused for a moment, and either wouldn't or couldn't say anything. "Tethys talked me into having a hydroponics farm on the ship, to help with any potential Humans." He paused again, and she seemed surprised, "It would be more vegetables than grains." he added. After a pause she nodded. "Good to have a talk with you, So Sorry." he said, and she let out an offended huff. He just smiled and pulled her in for a hug.

* * *

Japheth and Arcelia stepped out of the greenhouse. "I have a confession, sir." she stated.

"Hm?" he asked.

"I honestly don't know where to start with Human recruitment." she nervously stated.

"I was just going to ask Knockout." Japheth simply uttered.

* * *

Japheth stepped into his house and found Sirenia nervously trying to entertain Amalthea in the sitting area. He stepped in, with Arcelia behind her, Vera ever mindful behind them. The doors closed behind them as June walked down the stairs, "I tried to offer her things, but Cybertronians don't need anything."

Amalthea stood up, and Sirenia let out a sigh of relief. "I am good for Energon." she said with a smile.

"You could have given her access to our archives." Japheth stated.

"I wasn't sure..." June nervously said.

"Unless someone has been recording us?.." Japheth uttered, and then paused. When he recovered he looked back at Amalthea. "Oh, right, you wanted to talk on the roof." Amalthea gave him a bright smile in reply. Almost luminous with her pale form. He then turned to Arcelia, "Ciel can show you to the roof." he uttered.

Arcelia gave Amalthea a jealous look, but then forced a smile. "This way." she said, and turned towards the stairs.

"Siren." Japheth firmly. She quickly walked over to him and he and gave her a peck on the cheek.

"I think she deserves a headpat." June said with a smile, and he gave her a curious look. "Your femmes seem to really enjoy headpats." she said with a shrug. Japheth turned to Siren, and pet her on the head. She nearly squealed she was so happy.

* * *

"You have nothing to worry about." Amalthea said warmly as they climbed the stairs. Arcelia wasn't sure how to reply. "You'll see."

* * *

Amalthea stood on the roof, looking around at the world around them, caught up in it's beauty. Arcelia sat on a bed. Japheth climbed the stairs and stopped near Amalthea. She turned around, looking at him brightly. "I hate to be a wet blanket, but I have a lot of femmes to sort through. So?" he asked, and looked at Arcelia, before looking back at Amalthea, "I already have an archivist."

"Ah!" she cheerfully said, "YOU have an archivist. What did you call her?"

Arcelia perked up and sat forward, "Procurator."

"Ergo?" Amalthea cheerfully asked, "Your SHIP will need it's own."

"Hm?" Japheth asked, "I agree." Both Amalthea and Arcelia sighed with relief.

"See?" Amalthea asked Arcelia.

"Even better, I want a mini-Iacon." Japheth stated, and it was as if the air was sucked out of the open roof. "The relics can be stored in my house, but we will need - extensive - archives." Both of the femmes turned towards him as if in a daze. "That said, I can't take every archivist from Caminus, so I would appreciate if you could give me a short list." Both of the femmes still seemed in a daze. He gently tapped Amalthea on her head, "Are you still with me?"

Her eyes opened wide, "What did you want me to do?!"

"Hm?" he playfully asked, "You were voted centurion. Which means your sisters think you are most trusted among them. You are the one they can rely upon. Could I ask for a better Chief Archivist?" Amalthea stared off into nothing. Japheth held out his hand, and she just stared at it, her eyes momentarily focusing and unfocusing. She regained her senses enough to look down at his hand.

"You shake it, and it's formal." Arcelia said with a wicked grin, "Congradulations."

"Why does it feel harrowing?"

"You got - everything - you wanted." Arcelia said with glee, "And I get to keep my place at his side."

"And in his bed." Amalthea said, and Arcelia nervously looked away, "Which, I must admit, I curious what all of the fuss is about." She looked at Japheth, with Arcelia giving him a fearful stare.

"What am I going to do?" Japheth asked, "Bring in a jigalo?"

"I don't know what that is, but if it would help?" Amalthea asked.

Japheth thought for a moment and then shook his head. "I honestly don't know how to bring Human intimacy to Cybertron." he uttered.

Arcelia looked over to the Human colony, unsure of how to say it. Amalthea followed her gaze, before turning to look back, "Wait..." she said and paused, "I guess I hadn't read her reports yet, but... were you intimate while... Human? Is that even possible?"

"Oh, it is." Arcelia said with reverent glee.

"Is that what caught you?" Amalthea asked her.

"Well," Arcelia playfully replied, "being the dedicated archivist of the only living Prime is hardly the worst position to be in the world, but... Human intimacy?.." she gushed.

"And how does one... attract a partner for intimacy?" and looked at Japheth.

"It might seem like I'm an expert at this," Japheth stated, "but I'm not. I fell in love with Arcee, and just wanted to spend all of my time with her."

Amalthea looked at Arcelia, "Japheth, or, he was Jack at the time, found me alluring. Arcee thought I would add to their family, and so was allowed to join."

"So, I should try to join a family?" Amalthea asked.

"Hm?" Japheth asked. "One thing men are more than willing to do is have sex with attactive women."

"You made it sound more complicated?" Amalthea asked.

"I'm a romantic." Japheth said with a weak smile, "I was also married."

"In the modern day, marriage is typically between one man and one woman." Arcelia added.

"But I thought?.." Amalthea asked.

"Modern - day." Arcelia stated. "Historically, polygamy was far more common, but they also had a much different gender ratio, due to male disposability. Therefore in order for all women to marry, which is critical for a culture's survival, then multiple women must marry the same man."

"And how does this work with femmes?" Almalthea curiously asked.

"We do not have rules for these, yet." Arcelia stated. "But, it should not come at the cost of female fertility. We have also not set social rule for intimacy."

"What are you having trouble with?" Amalthea asked

"Humans normally use headpats for their pets, which they often care for dearly." Arcelia replied.

"And the trouble is?" Amalthea asked.

"Headpats are addictive." Arcelia said with a bright smile.

[thefcw]

matty-1-monopoly​:

Cryo Slumber

Open to: Females

Plot: A rotation of crew members with 2 men and 1 woman working together on the long journey through space.

Aboard the Argo were about two thousand souls in animated suspension or put into a deep freeze sleep. A small crew would be left awake at all times to keep the ship running in perfect condition or so the press release claimed. Matt Becket and David Harlow were two of the greasy ship mechanics left running things. Their third being a woman who they had trained with back on Earth. The good news being that if a crew didn’t like one another then every other month a new member would come out of cryosleep so the others could rest. This suspended animation was also for the purpose of extending their lives over the long voyage. The three were in the control room, Matt was monitoring power collection from the solar panels, David monitoring their own utilities, heat, water, food, and when they could take a break. All this monotonous work going on and they were hardly lifting an eye to look as the ship sailed past the moon. Breaking the silence Matt finally spoke out. “So why did you do it?” He asked aloud among the group. Answering first among them. “If you think about it, the gender imbalance makes things fairly ideal for men. By having the passengers be only 40 percent male, this allows for multiple women to become desperate if they want to have a child. Plus men are just essentially unlimited pistols while women take 9 months to make a baby. What do you think? Good or bad there’s more girls than guys on board? Heh.” He turned his head towards their female crewmate who had her backs to them as she was doing her own tasks.



Although being a supporting engineer hadn’t been in her future plans it was an easy enough job and being rather small she was ideal if any tight spaces needed to be accessed. Also even if she was rather independent she got along with the two men she was assigned with. They were like two annoying older brothers really. Working repetitive tasks was easy, Laura was entertained well enough by books and documentaries whenever they were off duty and while working the two men always had some weird conversations. Hearing Matt Laura rolled her eyes and smiled, shaking her head slightly. A colony mission and all he could think about is sex. Pressing a few buttons to do a routine check in her systems Laura got up smiling, “Oh, Matt, women aren’t going to get desperate. Everyone who signed up made a contract to have at least one baby. Better to have more ovens for buns than dough mixers. Like you said: women need 9 months, men only 5 seconds.” Sure there’d no doubt be some competition for specific men however desperation wasn’t going to be on the agenda. “Anyway, there’s frozen samples onboard too to guarantee genetic diversity. Although personally I prefer… traditional methods.” Going to Matt she leaned against his chair to look outside of the window. “Don’t worry, Matt. I’m sure there’s someone who wants your luscious blonde hair genes.” Giving him a playful wink Laura stepped away, “I’m going to go check the systems in the cryo before we take a break. Don’t want things getting too warm down there.”

Cryo Slumber

Open to: Females

Plot: A rotation of crew members with 2 men and 1 woman working together on the long journey through space.

Aboard the Argo were about two thousand souls in animated suspension or put into a deep freeze sleep. A small crew would be left awake at all times to keep the ship running in perfect condition or so the press release claimed. Matt Becket and David Harlow were two of the greasy ship mechanics left running things. Their third being a woman who they had trained with back on Earth. The good news being that if a crew didn't like one another then every other month a new member would come out of cryosleep so the others could rest. This suspended animation was also for the purpose of extending their lives over the long voyage. The three were in the control room, Matt was monitoring power collection from the solar panels, David monitoring their own utilities, heat, water, food, and when they could take a break. All this monotonous work going on and they were hardly lifting an eye to look as the ship sailed past the moon. Breaking the silence Matt finally spoke out. "So why did you do it?" He asked aloud among the group. Answering first among them. "If you think about it, the gender imbalance makes things fairly ideal for men. By having the passengers be only 40 percent male, this allows for multiple women to become desperate if they want to have a child. Plus men are just essentially unlimited pistols while women take 9 months to make a baby. What do you think? Good or bad there's more girls than guys on board? Heh." He turned his head towards their female crewmate who had her backs to them as she was doing her own tasks.

[stargirlstudio]

Memento [Part 2]

Dmitri Antonov x Reader

Warning: angst

Summary: After Dmitri’s death you find a little piece of happiness hoping to return the jacket to his son, Mikhail

Part 1

Part 2 (you’re here!)

Two years after the incident you looked at the jacket for the first time. You touched each button, trying to remember every detail of that man.

You hated remembering that day. You were angry, you were hurt. You hated the world for a while.

“Stop stop stop, she’s not one of them. That jacket isn’t their’s. It’s a dead man’s it’s a dead man’s!” You remembered Hopper screaming at the military. He wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be dead.

A part of you held out hope that he was alive. He was happy. He got to be reunited with his son. Maybe he got to see his ex wife and they gave it another go. For whatever reason, you expected that man to have a happy ending. That he didn’t perish that day in the snow. That after his surrender he was only given a small sentence. That maybe, just this once, it was a lighter sentence than the death of a man who was nothing but wonderful to you.

You accepted that you were perhaps too naive. He was always going to do whatever it took to get you home. To get Joyce and Hopper home to their families. Of course he wasn’t going to go with you, that was stupid. You just didn’t think he was going to jump out and surrender.

You looked at one of his inner pockets. It was a picture, a child’s drawing. It was a drawing of a little boy with brown hair next to a man with blonde hair and blue eyes.

“To my hero, the best papa in the world,” It read.

You couldn’t even imagine what Mikhail was feeling. You needed to find him.

——

“Hello, Yuri? Um it’s me (y/n). I was wondering if you knew anything about Dmitri’s family,”

“No I do not I’m sorry,”

“Are you sure there isn’t anybody I could contact-“

“No leave me alone!” He hung up.

For the 3 years it was a relentless search for Mikhail. Emails, websites, finding inquiries, trying to access documents for numerous penal colonies. Nothing.

“Why do you want to find Mikhail anyways?” Hopper asked. “It seems like a fruitless attempt to find answers and some things are better left without them,”

“It’s not trying to find answers. I have something to give to him. The jacket his father gave me, we lost a friend but that boy lost his father. I need him to have it!”

While you were searching for Dmitri’s family you threw yourself into your work. Days of searching through the many Antonov’s was becoming less as you worked as one of the leading anthropologists in Washington, DC. After 5 years, you figured it was impossible to find them.

And then you were invited to a panel at Oxford University. “We understand that the situation is still quite sensitive, but if you’re willing. We would love to have you on our panel Dr. (L/N),”

——

When you sat down at the table, you felt nervous. It felt like a sting to even think about what happened that day, to even talk about it is another story. A young man walked in and took a seat in the audience, right in the front. He was nervous it seemed, more nervous than you.

When the panel started you talked about your time as a prisoner in Kamchatka. You talked about how you had been thrown into hard labor. You talked about the conditions and how you were fortunate enough to survive because of one guard.

“He was very kind to me, his name is Dmitri,” You said. “I owe him my life. I remember he told me “If anything were to happen, just make sure you live your life. I remember being angry. So bitter at both of our governments. I was angry that I felt like I had brought him into this mess. I was angry that maybe if he did survive he would get to see his son again,”Unbeknownst to you, the boy in the front row sat up, looking at you with intrigue.

After two hours, the panel was over. You didn’t know anyone there, you opted to go home. The boy in the front row came up to you, quickly cutting you off from the entrance.

“I’m sorry, to bother you. This might be a stretch,” He said. “During your time in Kamchatka, I was wondering if you knew who my father was. You see my father was also a guard who unfortunately passed away in Kamchatka. His name is Dmitri Antonov, do you know him?”

You looked at the boy, who couldn’t be older than 20. He had the same nose and the same eye color. Of course, this must be Dmitri’s son.

“Yes, your father was the guard I talked about. I’m sorry to hear that he has passed,” You paused. “I actually have something for you, if you want to talk somewhere more private,”

You both sat at a table outside a cafe. Both of you getting a simple coffee. You didn’t say anything for a while, just waiting for you both to break.

“I think my father called my mother, told her something about making sure I went to a good university. A couple weeks before he passed,” He started. “When my mother found out about the news. Of him being a “traitor” we moved here. Granted some asylum,” Mikhail paused. “My mother was pissed at him. She already hated him really, they had a very nasty separation. But It was hard to wrap my head around my own father being a traitor to his country. He was still just my papa to me,” You listened intently. “It was just by chance that I saw a flyer for the panel. I wasn’t even planning on going, because I didn’t want to hear anything about this. But I did, I’m glad I did. When I heard you talking about the guard who helped you and the things he would tell you. I just knew it was him. I had a feeling that you were talking about my father,”

“You know Mikhail, before he passed. He was thrown into a cell with another American man. We all were. He was very scared that you thought of him as a traitor. He spoke so fondly of you. Even in danger he talked about how smart you were, top of your class too! Now look at you, right here at Oxford. He bragged about you to other guards. Plenty of backhanded compliments!” You said. Dmitri laughed. “I mean he would basically call the other guard’s children stupid. He missed you terribly,”

“I miss him too. I was only 13 or 14 when I lost him,”

You pulled out the jacket from the bag along with a framed photo of the drawing. “You know, I have actually been trying to find you. This was the jacket he gave me, the one that allowed me to survive,” You paused. “This serves no use for me anymore. I have accepted everything that happened. I think this should go to you. I don’t know if you will be able to find the same closure I did, but I wanted you to have something that you can remember him by,”

The thought of him is enough for me.

A/N: Continued that one kinda sad piece. I’ll have headcanons of him reacting to you wearing his clothes (no angst I promise lol) after I post part one of my enemies to lovers Dmitri series