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youflowerr-youfeast · 22 days ago

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Lavender Haze (NH13) - Chapter Two.

a/n: HIIII! I am so sorry it has taken so long - but!! Welcome to chapter two!!! I am so sorry if there are any mistakes - it was defs proofread after a few wines. and ALSO thank you so bloody much for all of your kind word and support! Inbox is always open!! Let me know what you think! Also - I know it's giving slow burn, but you gotta be patient with our Sofia, she's - healing -

** Content warning: death, grief. **

7.6k words

May 15th.

The morning light streamed through her bedroom window as Sofia ran a hairbrush through her hair, the golden glow highlighting the stubborn baby hairs she couldn’t tame. Her thoughts drifted as she worked, fingers combing through her hair in an attempt to make it sit just right.

She hadn’t seen her neighbor in over a week.

It wasn’t like she’d been looking for him. But then again, it wasn’t like she hadn’t been looking for him either. His absence felt more noticeable, especially after the flowers. She’d left them on her counter for days, unsure what to do with them until the petals began to wilt.

Eventually, she’d come to terms with tossing them, though their soft lavender hue seemed to linger in her mind, along with all her unanswered questions. Was it normal for him to disappear like this? Where did he go? What did he do when he wasn’t here?

Sofia sighed, placing the hairbrush down with a soft clink. She caught her reflection in the mirror and tried to redirect her thoughts, focusing instead on the day ahead—anything but her tall, dark, and handsome neighbor, who had seemingly vanished.

She grabbed her bag from the chair by her dresser, double-checking it for her essentials: wallet, keys, and the stack of lesson plans she’d thrown together late last night. A stray folder stuck out awkwardly from the side pocket, and she tucked it in with a sigh, mentally adding “organize paperwork” to her ever-growing to-do list.

Her lunch sat waiting in the fridge, neatly packed in a reusable container. She plucked it from the shelf and dropped it into her bag before grabbing a banana for the road. As she moved through the small kitchen, her eyes drifted to the living room wall she now knew she shared with him—a habit she hadn’t quite shaken over the past week.

Sofia shook her lingering thoughts loose and sipped her coffee, the warm bitterness grounding her as she glanced at the clock. “Okay, ten minutes,” she muttered to herself, finishing her drink before setting the mug in the sink.

Shoes on, coat in hand, she made one last sweep of the apartment. Her gaze lingered on the lavender flowers in her trash bin, petals crumpled and faded, before she turned toward the door, ready to embark on the day ahead.

By lunchtime, Sofia had cycled through reading time, snack break, and a minor clean-up effort after someone decided their applesauce worked better as finger paint. She leaned against the edge of her desk, sipping lukewarm coffee while scanning the room to ensure no one was trying to sneak their uneaten carrots into the rubbish.

Amelia popped her head into the room with her signature grin having snuck across the hall from her classroom.

“You surviving?”

“Barely,” Sofia replied, laughing. “If I have to broker another dinosaur versus robot treaty, I might lose it.”

“Oh, c’mon. There’s no debate. Dinosaurs every time,” Amelia quipped, her tone light but teasing as she stirred the pot.

Sofia rolled her eyes playfully. “Don’t let them hear you say that. The robot faction might stage a rebellion.”

Amelia laughed, “You’re probably right. Preschool politics are no joke.”

She leaned herself against the doorframe of Sofia’s classroom, arms crossed and a teasing smile on her face. “By the way, did you end up seeing your mysterious neighbor again? You know, the one you embarrassed yourself in front of?”

Sofia groaned, shooting her a look. “Why are you bringing that up now? I’m trying to forget about it.”

“Because it’s my job as your best friend,” she said with a smirk. “And let’s be honest, the mental image of you standing in his doorway, yelling at him for being loud - it’s too good to let go of.”

“I wasn’t yelling,” Sofia said, narrowing her eyes. “I was just being… firm.”

Amelia snorted. “Sure, firm. Whatever you say. So, have you run into him since then?”

“No,” Sofia admitted, letting out a little huff she didn’t mean to. “It’s been over a week, actually. I haven’t seen him at all.”

Amelia tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. “Weird. What do you think he’s up to?”

“No idea,” Sofia said with a shrug. “I mean we don’t know each other. He could be traveling for work or visiting family. Or maybe he just doesn’t spend much time at home.”

“Or,” Amelia said, smirking, “maybe he’s just hiding. Maybe he’s afraid after his big scary neighbour yelled at him to pipe down.”

Sofia rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I’m sure he’s terrified of the girl who knocked on his door once and then burst into tears simultaneously.”

“You never know,” Amelia teased. “Anyway, I’m sure he’ll turn up eventually. Guys that leave your favorite flowers on your doorstep don’t just disappear into thin air.” With that, she smirked and made her way back across the hall to her classroom.

The day wound down in the usual blur of chaos—parents arriving, kids running out the door, and Sofia answering last-minute questions about forgotten lunchboxes and art projects. By the time the building emptied, her classroom was quiet again, except for the faint sound of a vacuum somewhere down the hall.

Sofia locked up her classroom and slung her bag over her shoulder, pausing for a moment to check she had all of her belongings before making her way down the hallway and out of the school.

Stepping outside, she pulled her coat tighter against the crisp evening air. It wasn’t far to her apartment, just a few blocks, and she always enjoyed the quiet walk after work.

The fading sunlight painted the streets in warm amber tones as she strolled past rows of townhouses and small shops.

The familiar brick façade of her apartment building came into view as Sofia rounded the corner, her bag weighing heavier on her shoulder after a long day. She adjusted the strap and exhaled, savoring the quiet of the early evening. The streets were lined with parked cars, their windshields glinting faintly in the last of the daylight, and the faint scent of someone grilling dinner drifted through the air.

She climbed the front steps slowly, digging into her coat pocket for her keys as she pushed through the main door.

As Sofia ascended the stairs to her floor, she let out a soft sigh, already anticipating the small comforts of home—kicking off her shoes, pouring a glass of wine, and pretending she didn’t have a million things to do before tomorrow.

But when she reached the landing, she froze.

Nico.

Her heart gave a small, unexpected jolt. He was standing in front of his apartment door, his shoulders tense and his hands fiddling with something in the lock. Around him was a chaotic pile of luggage.

She paused mid-step, her first instinct to retreat before he noticed her. But then he cursed under his breath, the sound carrying in the silence, and she realised he was struggling with his key.

“Everything okay?” Sofia asked, her voice cutting through the silence as she stepped closer.

Nico straightened, startled, and turned to face her. His expression was a mix of frustration and embarrassment as he held up the broken key. “Not exactly,” he admitted.

Sofia’s gaze flicked to the lock, where part of the key was still lodged. “Oh,” she said, wincing. “That’s not ideal.”

“You’re telling me,” Nico replied, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve been at this for fifteen minutes, and it’s not budging.”

She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing slightly as she looked between the broken key and the lock. “Do you have a spare?”

“Inside,” Nico said with a dry laugh. “Which is just about as helpful as this.” He held up the useless half of the key in his hand.

Sofia smirked faintly. “Right. So, what’s the plan? Are you going to fight the door until it gives in?”

“That was my first idea,” Nico replied, leaning against the wall. “Plan B was to stare at it until it feels bad and opens itself.”

“Solid strategy,” she said, her tone wry as she reached for her phone. “Or—and hear me out—we could call a locksmith.”

“Probably smarter,” Nico admitted, crossing his arms. “But only slightly.”

Sofia shot him a look with a small grin. She tapped the screen of her phone, looking up a number to dial. She put the phone to her ear. The conversation was quick, but as she listened to the locksmith on the other end, her brow furrowed. When she hung up, she turned back to Nico, her lips pressed together in a sympathetic line.

“Bad news,” she said with a sympathetic frown. “They can’t get here until tomorrow morning.”

Nico closed his eyes briefly and let out a slow breath, dragging a hand down his face. “Of course. Perfect.”

“Do you have anywhere else you can go?” she asked, hesitating slightly, her voice soft.

Nico let out a slow breath, his gaze flicking to his pile of luggage before meeting hers. “I mean, I could probably crash at a friend’s place, but…” He trailed off, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m exhausted. The thought of hauling all this around again tonight just… no.”

Sofia nodded, her chest tightening at the sight of his tired expression. She didn’t know him well, but it didn’t take much to see that he was drained—physically and probably mentally.

“Well,” Sofia started, her voice hesitant, “if you don’t mind a couch, you can… stay here.” She pointed towards her door.

Nico blinked, clearly caught off guard. His tired gaze softened as he straightened slightly. “You’re serious?”

Sofia nodded quickly, though her cheeks flushed, and she fidgeted with the strap of her bag. “Yeah. I mean, it’s not ideal, but it’s better than staying out here with all your stuff. Unless you’d rather—”

“No, no,” he interrupted gently, a small, grateful smile tugging at his lips. “That’s… really nice of you. I just don’t want to impose.”

“You’re not,” she said, her words rushing out a little too fast. “I mean, it’s just for tonight, right? So it’s not a big deal. Totally fine.”

Nico chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “You sure? You seem a little… unsure.”

Sofia swallowed, gripping the strap of her bag a little tighter. “No, it’s fine,” she said quickly, forcing a small smile. “Just, uh… unexpected, I guess.”

Her words felt clumsy, and she hated how self-conscious she sounded. But she wasn’t used to this—to being in close quarters with someone like him. Someone who's easy confidence felt foreign compared to the awkward, brittle experiences she’d had in the past.

Nico studied her for a moment, his expression softening. “I don’t want to put you out,” he said, his tone quieter now. “I can figure something else out if it’s too much.”

“No,” Sofia blurted, shaking her head quickly. “It’s not… I mean, it’s fine. Really.”

Her cheeks burned, and she turned toward the door, fumbling with her keys just to have something to do. “Let’s just get you inside before someone complains about your luggage blocking the hallway.”

“Alright,” Nico said gently, the hint of a smile returning. He picked up one of his bags and followed her into the apartment.

Sofia pushed open the door and stepped inside, holding it open for Nico. “It’s, uh, not much, but make yourself at home,” she said softly, her voice carrying the faintest edge of nervousness.

As Nico stepped through the threshold, his expression shifted. The hallway outside, dim and utilitarian, was immediately forgotten as he took in the space. It was small but radiated warmth, the kind of place that made you feel like you could sink into it and stay for hours.

The living room was the heart of the apartment, bathed in the soft glow of a few different antique lamps, their warm light casting a cozy ambiance over everything. The furniture was an eclectic mix that somehow worked together perfectly: a blush-pink armchair sat near the window, its velvet upholstery slightly faded but loved. The couch, a muted sage green, was piled with pastel cushions in different textures—knitted, embroidered, and quilted—each one seemingly chosen with care.

A coffee table, made from a repurposed vintage trunk, sat in the center of the room. Its surface bore the scuffs and scratches of a long history, now softened by the addition of a lace doily and a small collection of items: a few well-loved books, a glass vase holding dried lavender, and a half-burned candle in a ceramic holder.

The rug beneath it all was a faded blue with intricate floral patterns, worn just enough to feel soft underfoot. A stack of neatly folded blankets, all in muted tones, were piled in a small woven basket.

The walls were alive with art. A gallery of mismatched frames showcased botanical illustrations, photographs of places and people, and among them was a small canvas, tucked into a quieter corner, that Nico couldn’t help but think Sofia might have painted herself—soft brushstrokes of pastel pinks, blues, and yellows that looked like a sunrise or a dream.

Bookshelves flanked one side of the room, crammed with novels, cookbooks, and a few vinyl records stacked haphazardly next to a vintage record player.

A pair of terracotta pots, each cradling leafy green plants, sat on the shelves, their vines trailing down like lazy rivers.

The kitchen, just visible through an arched doorway, was tiny but spotless. A small round table with two mismatched chairs, adorned with a floral tablecloth and a single candlestick. The counters were clutter-free, save for a light blue kettle and a ceramic jar labeled coffee.

Nico realized he was smiling, charmed in a way that was new to him. He had been expecting something ordinary—stark walls, a bland sofa—something similar to his apartment, but instead, he’d stepped into a place that felt soulfully lived-in. She had created an environment that whispered of patience, kindness, and quiet afternoons spent reading, painting, or just dreaming. It was a reflection of her, he realized: soft around the edges, graceful without trying, and utterly unpretentious.

He turned, and there was Sofia, standing a few steps away, her posture slightly hesitant, as if unsure what he’d think. In the lamplight, he saw her as part of this tapestry: someone who preferred faded pastels to bold statements, who gathered objects with sentimental value rather than uniform style. It made him want to know her better, to hear the stories behind the chipped teacup on the shelf or find out where she’d picked up the watercolor of that sleepy seaside town.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. A soft hum from the refrigerator filled the pause, and somewhere outside, a distant siren faded into the quiet. Nico finally turned fully toward her, letting the spell of the apartment settle into his voice as he said, “It’s really beautiful. Your place, I mean.” He kept his tone gentle, not wanting to spook the subtle, cautious energy she carried.

Sofia’s eyes briefly darted around, as if double-checking her own home through his gaze. “Thanks,” she managed, her voice a touch shy but steady enough. “I’ve collected things over time… just stuff that makes me happy.” She shrugged lightly, smoothing an invisible wrinkle from the front of her sweater. “I guess it’s a bit… cluttered.”

Nico took a careful step forward, scanning the layers of texture and color without judgment. He didn’t see chaos. He saw care. “I don’t think that’s the right word,” he said gently, taking in more of the room. “It feels more like it’s all been gathered here for a reason. Like every piece matters.” He paused, catching her eye. “It’s got your personality. I can tell you love what you’ve collected.”

Sofia’s cheeks warmed, and her shoulders lowered the tiniest bit. “That’s… nice of you to say,” she murmured, fingers grazing the arm of her pink armchair.

“I’m really glad you shared it with me.” Nico’s voice was quiet, almost as if he were worried about disturbing the calm warmth drifting through the room.

Sofia swallowed gently, her throat tight with a blend of uncertainty and resolve. She wanted him to feel welcome—that was the point, wasn’t it? The sincerity in his voice, the way he held her gaze, it all worked at untying the knots inside her chest, one by one.

“I’m… glad, too,” she managed, her voice softer than she expected. Her cheeks still felt warm, and the subtle scent drifting from the dried flowers on her coffee table seemed suddenly more pronounced.

She took a step closer to the kitchen’s threshold, as if to anchor herself to something solid. “If you… need anything,” she began, then hesitated, her fingers twitching nervously at her side, “I mean—are you hungry? Or thirsty?” She added the questions in a gentle rush.

Nico took in the delicate pattern of the tablecloth he could glimpse beyond her shoulder, the mugs arranged in neat little rows. All of it spoke of care, of a certain softness she carried inside her.

“I could go for some water, if that’s okay,” he said, not wanting to overwhelm her with demands, not wanting to trample the careful peace she’d built here. He offered a reassuring half-smile. “Don’t go to any trouble.”

Sofia’s expression shifted, a slight frown of mild reproach crossing her features. “It’s really not trouble,” she insisted, her voice gentle but firm. The blush on her cheeks deepened as she realized she might sound a bit assertive, but she pressed on before the moment slipped away.

Moving toward the kitchen she flicked on the light and filled a tumbler with cool water from her fridge.

As she turned back, she caught the subtle lines of weariness on Nico’s face. He looked as though he’d been running on empty, and she found her heart softening at the thought of him standing in that hallway, unable to enter his own home. Offering the glass, she managed a slight smile. “Here you go.”

But before he could take a sip, a new question rose to her lips, surprising even herself with its directness. “Have you eaten?” she asked gently. “Dinner, I mean. I can put something together, or I think I have some leftover pasta?”

Nico paused, the glass still hovering near his mouth. Her offer took him by surprise, and for a second he considered his options. He wasn’t starving, exactly—he’d grabbed a sandwich hours ago—but her tone was so earnest, so genuinely caring, that refusing outright seemed almost rude.

“Only if it’s not too much trouble,” he said softly, lowering the glass. A faint, playful smile touched his lips. “I mean, I’m not going to say no to leftover pasta.”

She tipped her head just enough so he couldn’t see the small smile curving her lips, as if taking a moment to steady her nerves before speaking again. “Alright, leftover pasta coming right up,” she said, voice more assured than before. She moved back toward the kitchen and he slowly followed her so he could assist if she needed him to. The mint-green cabinets and mismatched plates on the open shelves had never seemed like a big deal to her, just part of her everyday life. But now, knowing he’d be eating something she’d prepared—even if it was just reheated dinner—made her notice every detail of her kitchen: the soft hum of the fridge, the subtle scent of basil lingering from the last time she cooked. As she opened the fridge, she cast a quick glance over her shoulder. Nico hadn’t moved much, his tall frame still near the counter, water glass in hand. He looked more at ease now, no longer quite so wary, and the smallest crease of a smile lingered around his mouth. Something about that eased her own nerves. He wasn’t here by choice, not exactly—locked out and stranded—but at least he didn’t look unhappy about how the night was unfolding.

She found the leftover container, popped it open, and transferred a portion into a small saucepan. A quiet hiss sounded as the burner clicked on and the metal warmed beneath her hand. With a wooden spoon, she stirred slowly, letting the sauce loosen with a bit of water and a drizzle of oil.

“Hope you don’t mind penne,” she said over her shoulder, her tone light, “It’s nothing gourmet, but it’s edible and a hot meal.” Her lips twitched at her own self-conscious joke, and she turned slightly so he could see the shy humor in her eyes.

“Edible and hot works for me,” he responded with a sweet smile, his dimple popping ever so slightly at her dry attempt of humour. The scent soon began to bloom—warm and herbaceous. It wasn’t much, just a leftover meal made modestly appetizing, but it felt meaningful in its own small way. After all, what was hospitality if not trying to make someone’s night a bit better than the hallway they’d been stuck in?

Nico shifted slightly, leaning a hip against the counter, his gaze skimming over her space as if trying to memorise the comforting details of her world.

She reached for a bowl—a shallow one with a faint floral pattern swirling around its edges—then spooned the pasta in, topping it with a whisper of grated cheese. Perfectly imperfect, she thought, cradling the bowl for a moment before passing it over. When Nico took it, their fingers didn’t quite touch, but the closeness felt charged all the same.

Their eyes met briefly and Sofia wondered if he could sense the quiet tremor beneath her calm exterior. The hush of the apartment stretched between them, filled not with awkwardness, but with a kind of gentle expectancy.

Nico lowered his gaze to the steaming pasta, then looked back up with a small, genuine smile. It wasn’t a grin of politeness or formality—rather, it carried the warmth of someone who truly appreciated her gesture. “This looks great,” he said softly, and the low timbre of his voice made her heart dip and rise in an odd, fluttery way.

“Not too fancy, I know,” she murmured, stepping back to let him settle. A touch of self-consciousness crept into her tone, but not enough to overshadow the earnest kindness she offered. “I hope it’s okay.”

“I’m pretty sure leftover pasta never looked this appealing,” he replied, lightness dancing in his eyes. His sincerity felt tangible—no forced compliments, just the honest appreciation of a man unexpectedly comforted by a stranger’s kitchen.

Sofia folded her hands together at her waist, then remembered her manners. “Feel free to sit,” she said, her voice a shade quieter. She gestured toward the small wooden table. A half-burned candle and a tiny succulent inhabited the tabletop, tiny guardians of many solitary evenings. To invite him to that table felt like offering him a glimpse of her routine—the place where she sipped tea and read after long days, where she planned lessons and wrote grocery lists.

Nico nodded, taking the few steps needed to reach it. He settled into one of the chairs, setting the bowl down carefully. When he lifted his gaze again, she was still watching him, her posture a delicate blend of readiness and uncertainty. There was a softness in her expression he found comforting—no demands, no assumptions, just a gentle willingness to make him feel at home.

“Thank you,” he said again, the words simple but weighted with more than just gratitude for a meal. His voice bridged something unspoken in the space between them, acknowledging the unusual nature of this encounter. He lifted the fork, tasted the pasta, and nodded with quiet approval. “It’s perfect.”

Sofia hovered near the counter a moment longer, watching him settle into the quiet rhythm of his meal. He didn’t seem uncomfortable; in fact, he appeared focused on the simple act of eating, as though savoring each bite. There was a contented look on his face, something close to relief. The sight made her smile softly, and for the first time since he stepped into her apartment, she felt less like a bundle of nerves and more like someone who could just… be.

Still, the energy of the day weighed on her shoulders and the back of her neck, and she was suddenly aware of how long it had been since she’d had a moment to herself. “I, um,” she began, catching her reflection in the window’s faint glass. The blush in her cheeks lingered, her hair a bit mussed from running her hands through it too many times. “I’m going to hop in the shower, if that’s okay,” she said, the words emerging in a gentle rush. “It’s been a long day, and I… well, I could use it.”

Nico looked up from the bowl, pausing mid-twirl of his fork. He nodded understandingly. “Of course,” he said. No questions, no odd glances, just the same calm acceptance he’d shown since entering her pastel world. “Take your time. I’m good here.”

She offered a timid half-smile, relieved he hadn’t found the request strange. “There’s more water in the fridge if you need it,” she murmured, gesturing with a slight tilt of her head toward the kitchen. “And I’ll be just down the hall if you need anything.”

Sofia slipped away, her footsteps quiet as she made her way down the short corridor. In her small bathroom, she flicked on the lights. They illuminated a delicate shower curtain—pale pink, patterned with subtle green leaves—and the neat row of bottles along the tile ledge. She turned on the water, testing it with her hand until it reached that perfect, soothing temperature. Her clothes came off and she stepped under the stream, letting the warmth and steam envelop her. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back, rinsing away the day’s tension.

Soon she emerged from the hallway in a set of pale blue pajamas scattered with tiny daisies, the soft cotton clinging gently to her fresh-from-the-shower warmth. Her hair, still damp, lay in loose waves around her shoulders, and though she tried to appear casual, there was a shy set to her posture—arms held close, hands lightly clasped. She paused near the doorway between the hall and the living area, as if double-checking the atmosphere before stepping fully into it.

Nico was on the couch, the now-clean bowl resting upside down on a folded dish towel he must have found beneath the sink. He’d taken the initiative to tidy up, and something about that small kindness made her heart beat a little faster.

His gaze lifted when he sensed her presence, and for a brief moment, he struggled to keep it respectful and level. Her pajamas were cute, undeniably so, and seeing her in them brought an unexpected feeling to the moment. He refocused quickly on her face, noting the gentle flush in her cheeks that matched the faint rose hue of the lamp’s glow on the wall. Something about the way she carried herself—the timid half-step into the room—tugged at a protective feeling inside of him.

“I, um… you all good?” Sofia asked softly, crossing the final steps into the living area. Her voice still held that careful politeness, but under it was a warmth that felt more natural now, as if layers of formality had been gently peeled back over the evening. She glanced at the cleaned bowl and then at him, eyes brightening with pleased surprise. “You cleaned up?” she noted, her tone both grateful and a little impressed.

Nico nodded, his own smile deepening. “Seemed fair,” he said quietly.

He wasn’t sure what else to say for a moment, so he let the silence stretch, comfortable enough not to fill it right away. Sofia took a cue from that silence and moved toward the armchair near his spot on the sofa, the lamplight catching on the subtle patterns of her pajama fabric.

She tucked one leg under the other as she settled down, maintaining a careful grace. Nico kept his eyes anchored on her face, determined not to let his curiosity roam lower. It wasn’t that he was blind to the pretty picture she made—it was simply that he respected her too much, especially after all her quiet generosity.

“Do you want any help making the couch into a bed?” she asked, tucking a damp strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes flicked to the cushions, then back to him. “I think I have a spare quilt and some blankets I can bring out.” She paused, chewing lightly on the inside of her cheek before adding, “And—um—if you’d like some tea… I’ve got peppermint, chamomile, or just regular black tea with honey.”

Nico’s heart gave a small, unexpected twist. It wasn’t that she’d asked anything extraordinary—it was her tone, the caring simplicity of her questions, and the way she sat there, folded softly into her armchair, that had him feeling as though he were seeing something delicate and lovely. She looked so at ease in this space, her space, making an offer that was both practical and undeniably kind. The scent of her shampoo still lingered faintly in the air, and he wondered how anyone could be so naturally gentle.

He had to remind himself to answer. Clearing his throat quietly, he leaned forward just a bit, willing himself to keep his eyes on hers and not let them wander, not get lost in how well the pastel hues complemented her skin, how her features were softened further by the soft glow of lamplight. “You don’t have to fuss,” he said, keeping his voice low so as not to break the hush they’d settled into. “Really. Just being inside, having a place to rest, that’s already more than enough.”

He watched her expression carefully. There was a sincerity in her face that made him want to accept everything she offered, no matter how small. “But… if you don’t mind,” he continued gently, “a cup of tea would actually be nice.” He almost smiled at how modest he sounded—him, who usually had no trouble asking for what he needed. But here, he wanted to tread lightly.

“Peppermint?” she asked softly, the corners of her mouth lifting.

“Peppermint sounds great,” he replied. He watched her unfold herself from the armchair, moving with that same gentle grace toward the kitchen. He let his eyes follow her only briefly, but quickly looked away once he realised he was staring.

Sofia returned with two steaming mugs. Nico straightened a bit on the couch, watching her approach with quiet appreciation, and accepted one of the mugs with a grateful nod. She curled back into her armchair, legs tucked under her comfortably, her free hand stroking the armrest’s worn fabric.

“Thank you,” he said, taking a cautious sip. The warmth of the tea rose up to his face. “This will definitely hit the spot.”

She smiled, her shoulders relaxing. “Good. I’m glad.” A lull passed, not awkward, just a gentle pause in the rhythm of the evening.

“So,” Sofia ventured, cradling her mug close to her chest. She studied him a moment, noticing how he seemed more at ease now than when he first arrived. “You said work keeps you on the road a lot?” Her voice was soft, curious. She’d avoided prying too much before, but now it felt natural to learn a bit more about the unexpected guest in her home.

Nico nodded, resting an ankle over his opposite knee. “Yeah, I travel pretty often,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “It comes with the job.”

She tilted her head, eyebrows lifting slightly. “What kind of work do you do? If you don’t mind me asking.” Her lips curved into a reassuring half-smile, as if to say: You don’t have to tell me, but I’d like to know.

He hesitated, not out of secrecy, but because he rarely had to explain himself to someone who didn’t already know. “I play hockey,” he answered simply. “Professionally.”

Sofia’s fingers tightened slightly around the mug of tea she’d just set in her lap. His answer—“I play hockey”—should have been simple enough, but those words nudged a memory she normally kept tucked away, pressed between the pages of her past. She swallowed, working to keep her expression neutral as she tilted her head and offered him a small, polite smile.

“Professionally,” she repeated softly. There was a hint of awe in her tone, but beneath it a subtle shift: something a bit more distant, as though her thoughts had taken her elsewhere.

“So you’re traveling a lot, playing… what, in the NHL?” She asked it gently, her voice kept even, as if bracing for an answer that might sting more than it should.

Nico nodded, and something about his posture, the practiced humility in his eyes, suggested he was used to people knowing exactly who he was. But here, in front of Sofia, he had to explain. “Yeah,” he said, settling his tea on the coffee table. “I’m with the New Jersey Devils.”

He seemed poised, prepared for some reaction—recognition, excitement, maybe a flurry of questions about his fame. But Sofia’s reaction was subtle: her gaze dropped to her hands where she fiddled with the rim of her mug. She knew enough about hockey—more than she cared to remember—to understand how big that was. But the memories it stirred made her heart twist.

“My brother…” she began, voice almost too soft. She paused, forced herself to breathe. Nico’s eyes were on her, patient and curious. She lifted her gaze, offered a small, tight smile, the kind that didn’t quite meet her eyes. “He played hockey too. He was the captain of his college team.”

Saying it aloud brought an ache to the surface. She hadn’t expected to share this detail with him.

Nico leaned forward slightly at her words, intrigued but slightly oblivious to the sadness pooling behind her eyes. “Really? That’s great,” he said gently, his tone warming with genuine interest.

Sofia pressed her lips together, fighting the familiar sting in her chest. She had said it so simply: he was the captain. She hadn’t explicitly said he was gone, and Nico’s calm, encouraging expression told her he’d taken the statement at face value—that her brother still walked somewhere under stadium lights, still taped his stick before every game, still pulled on a jersey with a “C” stitched into its fabric.

“That must’ve been amazing, growing up and watching him play,” Nico said, making a small gesture as if passing an invisible puck between them. He tried to imagine her in the stands, cheering with family, maybe wearing her brother’s college team colors.

Sofia’s hand tightened around her mug. She forced a weak smile to cover the jagged ache in her chest. How easily he assumed a living present tense—do you watch him, must’ve been proud—and how hard it would be to correct him. A shiver of memory moved through her: her brother’s last game, the way he’d grinned at her afterward and ruffled her hair like always, the stands emptying as he lingered on the ice, making excuses to savor every second. And then the accident that tore that future away.

She swallowed, the peppermint scent of her tea suddenly too sharp. Her voice, when it came, was quiet and carefully measured. “I used to go to all his home games,” she said softly, truth and omission twined together. “He loved playing. I think wearing that ‘C’ on his jersey meant everything to him. He wanted to go further…” Her eyes flickered down, as if searching the floor for some steady ground.

Nico nodded, his smile soft with admiration. “Captains usually do. A lot of them dream about going pro, just like I did.” He paused, considering her brother’s path. “Where is he playing now? Did he keep going with it after college?”

The question hung in the warm air. It was such a simple inquiry—an innocent assumption that the story moved forward, that her brother stepped from college hockey into some next phase. Nico’s earnest interest made it harder to respond, but she knew she had to clarify.

Her heart beat thickly in her throat. She pulled in a slow breath, mustering courage. “He… he didn’t get the chance,” she managed. Her gaze lifted, meeting Nico’s eyes. The gentle lamplight caught unshed tears there, making them glisten, and Nico’s soft curiosity faltered into sudden concern.

Sofia cleared her throat, voice almost a whisper. “He passed away before he could try.” The words felt heavy on her tongue, and she offered them with as much calm as she could.

Nico stilled, the weight of her revelation settling immediately in the hush of the apartment. His breath caught, and his shoulders sagged slightly, as if absorbing the shock for her sake. He realized, with a pang of regret, that he’d pressed on too lightly, that his questions might have scraped at old wounds he didn’t know were there.

“I’m… I’m so sorry,” he said, voice low and full of quiet apology, understanding now the ache that underpinned her every word about her brother. He held her gaze, hoping to convey that he understood this was not just a story, but a piece of her heart that still hurt. He didn’t look away, offering no empty platitudes, just honest sorrow and respect for her loss.

Sofia’s tight smile trembled, then steadied. Her gaze drifted to the patterns on her rug.

“The night I, um…” She paused, took a careful breath. “The night I knocked on your door and yelled at all of you to keep it down—it was the anniversary of his death.”

Her words settled into the quiet space, their weight palpable. Nico’s eyes softened with understanding. He didn’t move, didn’t rush to fill the silence. Instead, he let her speak at her own pace, sensing that this was something she needed to say aloud.

“I’d been holding it together all day,” she continued, her fingers curling around the fabric of her pajama sleeve. “Trying to pretend everything was fine, going through the motions, doing my job, smiling for the kids at work. And then I came home to a silent apartment. And it felt so empty. I opened a bottle of wine, told myself I’d have just one glass.” She gave a shaky laugh, humorless and soft. “One turned into a few, and then the noise started next door. Loud voices, laughter… I just snapped. Something about all that life and sound and celebration was too much to bear that night.”

Nico’s heart twisted. He remembered that evening so clearly: her face flushed with anger, her words slurred slightly by the wine, but beneath the frustration and annoyance he now saw the grief. He wished he could have understood then what he knew now.

Sofia glanced up, meeting his gaze. The tears in her eyes didn’t fall, but they glistened, held in place by her quiet strength. “I’m not proud of it. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you or your friends. But I guess I was angry. Angry that the world keeps spinning, that people keep laughing and having fun, while he can’t. Angry that my life would never be the same.”

Nico leaned forward, setting his tea down, carefully trying not to break their fragile connection.

“I’m so sorry.” He wanted to say more, to tell her that her anger made sense, that anyone faced with such pain might lash out when confronted with reminders of what they’d lost. But he let the apology stand, simple and honest.

She offered a small nod, her expression distant for a moment as she wrestled with old memories and fresh regrets. “I remember thinking, after I went back to my apartment, that I’d embarrassed myself. But I was too raw to care that much. I just… I missed him. I still do, every day. The anniversary just makes it harder to pretend everything’s fine.”

The clock ticked softly, and the art covered walls seemed to hold them both in gentle sympathy.

Nico finally spoke, voice low. “I can’t imagine what that must feel like,” he said. “But I get it now. Why you were upset. Why that night mattered so much.” He hesitated, wanting to reassure her without sounding trite. “Your brother—he mattered. He still does. It makes sense that losing him on that day would stir up everything.”

Sofia’s lips curved into the faintest, sad smile. “Thank you,” she whispered. It wasn’t just gratitude for his understanding words, but for the space he gave her to be honest, for not turning this into a moment of pity or awkward apologies. “I don’t usually talk about him with… well, with people I don’t know well. But something about tonight, and about you—I don’t know, it feels safe. Like I can share this without worrying you’ll judge me.”

Nico’s chest tightened again, that gentle pull of empathy and admiration he’d been feeling all evening. “You can,” he assured softly. “I’m glad you trusted me enough to tell me.” He wanted to offer comfort, but he also knew she was strong on her own. Maybe just hearing her words, acknowledging her pain, was enough for now.

They fell quiet once more, letting the hush settle. Sofia’s eyes drifted to the picture frame on the shelf, the one containing her brother’s photograph. The memory still hurt, but tonight it hurt a little less—maybe because someone else knew and she wasn’t alone.

“You probably don’t know much about me,” Sofia said, speaking up, her voice a touch steadier now. “I mean, beyond the fact that I had a rough night and a brother who meant a lot to me.” She offered a small, self-conscious smile, fingers brushing the rim of her mug. “I’m a preschool teacher, actually.”

Nico’s posture shifted slightly, interest lighting his features. “A preschool teacher?” he repeated, a note of admiration in his tone. He set his own mug down carefully, as if savoring this new piece of information. “I can imagine that takes incredible patience.”

Sofia allowed herself a genuine smile. “More patience than I ever thought I had,” she agreed, a soft laugh following the admission. It felt good to move into this gentler territory. “But I love it. The kids—oh, they’re amazing. They’re curious about everything, and each day feels like a chance to show them how wide and wonderful the world can be.” She paused, warmth creeping into her voice. “They remind me that there’s still so much hope out there, even when things are hard.”

Nico nodded, absorbing her words. He tried to picture her surrounded by small children, helping them tie their shoes, guiding them through finger-painting, reading stories with animated voices. He could imagine how that environment might offer a kind of healing—an antidote to the heaviness she carried. “I respect that,” he said softly. “Finding a path that lets you make a difference and feel connected… it’s not something everyone manages.”

She dipped her head slightly, touched by the sincerity in his voice. “Thank you. It wasn’t exactly planned,” she confessed. “I ended up teaching after a lot in my life changed. I guess I needed something that felt meaningful, something that helped me move forward rather than staying stuck in old pain.”

Nico’s gaze flicked to the photograph on the shelf, then back to her face. He knew enough now to understand the subtext without pressing. “It sounds like it’s given you that,” he said simply. “You have this calm energy that I’m sure helps them feel safe.”

Her cheeks warmed at the compliment. There were many times she questioned her abilities—wondering if she was patient enough, kind enough, if she truly made a difference—but hearing it from someone who barely knew her gave it a unique weight. “I try,” she said, her tone modest.

After a few unhurried moments, Sofia shifted in her chair. The day’s emotions, along with the late hour, had settled into her muscles, reminding her that she needed rest. She gave a small, apologetic smile and rose to her feet, smoothing the front of her pajama top as she did so.

“I think I’m going to head to bed,” she said quietly, not wanting to disrupt the peaceful mood they’d found. Her eyes found his across the modest space. “It’s getting late, and tomorrow morning will come too soon, as always.”

Nico nodded, understanding perfectly. He leaned back against the couch, his posture easy, trying his best to keep his gaze respectful. “Of course,” he said gently. “You’ve had a long day.”

She took a step toward the hallway, then paused, turning back as if remembering something important. “Before I go…” Sofia hesitated for a heartbeat, then gestured toward a small cupboard near the bathroom door. “There are fresh towels in there if you want to take a shower. Soap and shampoo are on the shelf inside. And, well, the couch is all yours. Make yourself at home, okay?”

Nico looked at her, gratitude flickering in his eyes. It amazed him how thoughtful she continued to be, even after all they’d shared tonight. “Thank you,” he replied, voice soft. “I appreciate everything. Really.”

Sofia nodded, accepting his thanks with a faint, genuine smile. She pressed her lips together as if holding onto a last piece of kindness and, finding it unnecessary to say more, offered him a quiet “Good night” that was warmer than any drawn-out farewell.

“Good night,” Nico echoed, his voice carrying through the hush as she retreated into the dim hallway.

The soft click of her bedroom door eased into the silence, and he let out a slow breath. He wouldn’t intrude on her space more than he needed to, but the invitation to shower and settle in was a kindness he didn’t take lightly. He rose from the sofa to find the towels, and perhaps, a small measure of peace in the quiet hours before morning.

@bratbarzal @xaexaesworld @lhughes43

#imagine #fanfic #luke hughes #jack hughes #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier x oc #nico hischier fanfiction #quinn hughes #new jersey devils #nhl fanfiction #willy nylander #seth jarvis #auston matthews #matt barzal

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copperbadge · 1 year ago

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[ID: Two images of a flat sewn cloth for reading tarot on; it is essentially a rectangle with tabs on the end. The "outside" is made from tan fabric edged with purple, with a pair of patches sewn on; the inside, where the cards would be kept and laid out for a reading, is a busy checkerboard pattern of black, grey, and orange.]

I've been trying to use up fabric from my stash, and also get better at both sewing and designing my own patterns, so I made a Tarot reading cloth that also carries a couple of decks stylishly and securely. Finished it this morning with the final addition of a couple of patches and the button closure.

The outer fabric is printed with dinosaur fossils and the purple is a replica of the wallpaper from Disney's Haunted Mansion. The inner fabric is skeletons (orange), Ed Emberley cats (grey), bats from an old pair of pajamas (other grey), and a couple of squares of plain orange from an old bedsheet.

[ID: Three detail images; left, a patch of a haunted garden featuring regular plants like carrots and watermelon, along with a skull, a ghost, a jack o'lantern, and several crossed bones; beneath the patch is a subtle buttonhole. Center, a pair of decks, the Fantod Pack by Edward Gorey and the British Gothic Tarot, are sitting in the center of the interior of the reading cloth. Right, the cloth has been wrapped around the decks and buttoned shut; it is a neat purse-like bundle.]

The patch on the front was a gift from a reader years ago who went by Niamh at the time, but that doesn't appear to exist anymore; if you're still reading, I saved it for YEARS so that I could put it on a tarot cloth and finally got to!

I'm pretty pleased with how the thing folds up -- it's not exactly how I wanted it to, but it gets the job done. I might put two more buttonholes into it so that I can fix a strap to the fabric itself, but if I want to carry the pad without a strap (just tucked into a bag) I can, and if I want to have a shoulder strap I can run a strap under the top flap pretty securely (the ends of this strap have D-rings that just hook into each other to make a loop).

[ID: The folded bundle of the cloth has a quilted strap attached, tucked under the upper flap; the strap suspends it from a coat hook on the wall, showing how it would hang from a shoulder.]

Very pleased to have completed a sewing project -- I basically at this point have a basket of half-finished stuff that I'm working through, and it's nice to be able to complete them and either put them to use or give them away.

#crafting #sewing #making #tarot

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therobotmonster · 1 year ago

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Let's talk about Toys in Cereal

This is a part of several posts of mine that have gotten big, but I figure it's best to address the phenomenon itself in a new post.

If you want to just browse a ton of cool old cereal toys once we're done, go to: www.cratercritters.com. It's a neat site.

Cereal toys are a long-standing American tradition. Some tag-questions asked if they went away because of greed or because of regulations, and that's complicated.

There are food regulations that complicate things. You may have heard that Kinder Eggs are not legal in the US.

This is usually framed as a "fear the stupid American Kids will eat the toy" kind of thing. This is not the case.

The actual regulation that blocks the Kinder Egg is about food safety from bacterial and undisclosed allergen contamination. Inserting a baggie with a toy into that exposes everything in the cereal bag to the outside of the toy package, and that's a no-no in the US market. The rare thing we're more strict about than the EU.

But that doesn't affect cereal toys, because they can get around it by having it in a separate package outside the food bag, between the inner back and the cardboard box. Much easier on the parents to find when you open the box, too.

Kinder has, themselves, addressed the US Kinder Egg problem the same way, with the Kinder Joy.

Splitting the package. into two sections that are individually sealed.

But a big blow to the practice was the end of the Australian R&L Toy Company.

R&L made tons of simple pack-in Premium toys from the 60s through the 80s. They were the primary supplier to Kelloggs, and made everything from simple one-piece figurines to little build-yourself-action-toys.

For instance, these "Wacky Walkers" worked by tying a string to the figure and the weight, then dropping the weight off a table. The figures would hobble forward on their feet, pulled by the weight. Neat-o!

Then there's stuff like these Toolybirds. I'd sell any one of you to the goblin king for a set of these, because I sure can't afford them at $25 apiece or more. I'll probably just make some dinosaur-knockoff version or somesuch to 3d print, eventually.

R&L went out of business in the 80s and its molds were sold to a toy manufacturing company in Mexico that produced their stuff as bag toys for awhile, before everything just faded away.

Meanwhile, the cereal market was forced to contract elsewhere without a devoted company doing essentially just that.

Liscenses came to the rescue. Fun fact, if you wanted toys from most of the Disney Afternoon, your only hope was Kellogg's.

As time went on, you started even getting software in cereal.

Chex gave out a free, PG-version of DOOM for free. Not a couple of demo levels, a whole game, run on the doom engine, with aliens you zap with a spoon.

But as time went on, companies got less and less into the idea of enticing with freebies, and parents started objecting to the marketing of sugar cereals with toy surprises, because given the opportunity, most parents will blame the company for making something the kid wants for their unwillingness to say "No."

The eternal conflict:

Cool thing the kid would enjoy that you might have to put your foot down over because enforcing moderation is a parent's job, verses unobjectionable conformist mush designed to increase your kids' "goodness levels."

I think the banning of cartoon mascots for snacks in certain countries is also ridiculous.

Thing is, any company could bring them back at any time.

The Monster cereals did figurines of their mascots in cosplay in 2021. Of course, they did it as a limited edition bullshit thing where the actual monster cereal mascots were chase figures, but they made them, they could do them at any time if they wanted to.

They could bring the magic back. Nothing is stopping them.

'cept there's no room for joy on the spreadsheet.

Gotta hit you with a little ennui. It's that ambergris stink that makes the perfume truly sweet.

#cereal toys #R&L toys #the merch #prize in your cereal #cereal #kellogg's #monster cereals #count chocula

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totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus · 4 months ago

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Fic: Something to Sink Your Teeth Into 6/?

Read on AO3

Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Vampire/Witch!AU

Ahahahahahahaha, this plot bunny is the size of a fuckin' dinosaur now and I have NO REGRETS! *weeps a little*

Many thanks to @the-little-red-queen, @aquamarineglitter, and especially @bornunderabluemoonbaby for helping my untangle a few thorny plot points, just listening to me word vomit, and even providing some truly excellent background music :) Thank you so much!

Evan may have agreed to sit down and talk with Tommy, but his wary eyes were still those of a trapped animal.

Tommy could feel them boring holes into the side of his head as he dug through the clothes stored in the dresser for something clean that would fit the witch. Tommy didn’t live here—the apartment building was a coven safehouse, meant to be a place where coven members could lie low or regroup in emergencies—but all of them kept a few essentials in the various apartments they’d claimed as their own over the years. Clothes, cash, forged documents…the standard bug out kit that Tommy had been stashing in various places all over the world for centuries (Hell, by now some of his caches had probably been “rediscovered” and placed in museums). There was even an industrial-sized freezer in the building’s sub-basement that Josh kept stocked with bagged blood.

He ignored Evan’s stare, eventually gathering a clean pair of sweats and a hoodie that would probably fit him. He was pretty muscular—not as broad as Tommy was, but certainly not a small man—and they were basically the same height. When he turned back around, Evan hadn’t moved from the bed. He had a white-knuckled grip on the bedspread, just glaring at Tommy unblinkingly.

He moved very, very slowly, holding the clothes up so Evan could see and setting them down on the end of the bed before backing away again, holding his hands up in plain sight.

Evan’s gaze flitted down to the clothes, but then back to Tommy’s face. “How do you know my name?” he asked, suspicion thick enough to cut through in his voice.

Tommy tilted his head, considering. The ID in the witch’s wallet had a false name on it. Given the fact that Evan had, apparently, been banished, that made a certain amount of sense. Banishment was not a consequence for a small crime, after all. Between the shock of what had happened at the party, Tommy drinking from him, and the aftereffects of a thrall as powerful as Tommy’s was, the kid’s memories had to be at least a little hazy. Somehow, Tommy got the feeling that reminding him he’d basically been forced into giving up his real name would be a bad idea.

He jerked a thumb towards the wallet and pack of gum lying out on the nightstand. “Looked at your driver’s license. One of my coven found your Jeep in the staff parking—I had him bring it here and put it in the garage.”

Evan reeled back in surprise at that, and Tommy didn’t think he was imagining the relief that flooded through his expression at the mention of the old blue Jeep that Sal had shown up with in the last couple hours before sunrise. Almost instantly, though, his face shuttered, smoothing back over into wary tension. “And, uh, when do I get, get my keys back?” he asked, the slight stammer belying the bravado the demand was delivered with.

“That depends on how the conversation goes. For right now—shower. Change. There’s a diner around the corner that serves breakfast all day. Never had it myself, obviously, but the line’s usually out the door and they’ve been in the same spot for thirty years. Anything you won’t eat?”

Evan blinked at him, a little confusion cutting through the wariness now. “N-no?” he said, the word coming out far more like a question than a statement.

“All right, I’ll get a spread. Bathroom’s downstairs. I think there’s mouthwash under the sink, but fuck if I know when it was bought. There’s towels and washcloths already in there. I go by Tommy these days. Tommy Kinard.”

Evan’s eyes grew bigger and bigger as he spoke, more confusion filling them as his brow furrowed. Tension radiated off of him, his back so tight Tommy thought his spine might snap if he tried to touch him. Clearly, he had no idea what to do with a vampire that was rattling off a spiel that sounded more like the awkward end of a one-night stand than the terms of what should be his imminent captivity and/or death.

It might have been playing dirty, but Tommy had known the value in keeping your enemy off balance before Evan’s ancestors were born, and he didn’t want to thrall the kid again if it could be helped.

Not that he wanted the witch to be his enemy.

The stray thought pulled him up short as he preceded Evan down the stairs (if that one burst of magic earlier was anything to go by, the kid probably didn’t have enough strength right now to mount a serious bid for escape, but there was no sense being stupid about it), and he heard Evan’s breath hitch at the pause. He forced himself to continue casually down to the living area, flopping down on the couch like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Or an extremely jumpy witch only a few feet away.

He made a show of turning the TV on, grimacing a little when some godawful reality show popped up on the screen—clearly Lucy or Ravi had been the last person to use it. He pretended to find the Bachelor Housewives of Survivor Island or whatever the fuck it was engrossing as Evan hesitated at the foot of the stairs, his eyes darting between Tommy and the (seemingly) unguarded door. He’d never make it. Even if he managed to fire off a spell, with witch blood coursing through Tommy’s veins, Evan would be lucky to even make it out the door, let alone all the way to the stairwell.

He silently hoped the kid didn’t try. He really wasn’t interested in traumatizing him further. After a long moment, Evan took a few wavering steps towards the bathroom door, obviously still a little woozy from being drained. An unfamiliar flash of guilt unfurled in Tommy’s gut…he really hadn’t meant to take so much; he’d just been trying to get Gerrard to lose interest and move on.

But God, Evan’s blood had been delicious. Not just powerful—witch blood was always powerful. The taste of Evan’s had exploded on Tommy’s tongue, lit up every nerve ending in his body like pure electricity. He’d wanted the witch closer, wanted to hold him close forever, wanted to taste more of him, wanted to taste all of him. It had been a good century or two since the last time he’d drunk from a witch, but he didn’t remember it feeling like that. Granted, that witch had been actively trying to kill him at the time, but still…

Evan vanished into the bathroom, and Tommy almost chuckled at the sound of the flimsy push-button lock engaging. He muted the TV and kept one ear tuned to the bathroom as the water started, listening intently for the sound of a spell being chanted. He was taking a risk letting Evan out of his sight even long enough to take a shower, but he genuinely didn’t think the witch had the strength to do anything drastic right now. After he had some food and proper rest, it might be a different story…but he thought it was worth the risk right now.

But worth the risk to what?

As before, the thought pulled him up short. What was his end game here? He’d promised Lucy he would come up with a plan…he needed to. He and Alonzo had a great relationship, and their coven master had never really treated Tommy like a subordinate, even after he’d stepped down as second in command, but he knew that Evan’s mere presence in the coven safehouse was an unfathomably large risk. That Alonzo had not already stormed through the door demanding that they kill the witch immediately was a measure of the respect Alonzo had for him and his instincts. Still, he couldn’t ask his coven master to ‘just trust him’ for very much longer. He needed to figure out what he was going to do with Evan.

The water was still running, but he’d yet to hear the sound of the shower door opening and closing. Silently, he rose from the couch and slipped over to the door, listening for any indication that Evan was about to do something foolish.

What he heard was the sound of the young man almost hyperventilating, his rapid, panting breaths ragged and watery around the edges. The sound was too low to the ground…as though Evan had locked the door behind him and just sunk to the floor.

The guilt twisted harder in Tommy’s gut. The witch had to be terrified.

Tommy just couldn’t figure out why that bothered him so much. Sure, he tried not to go out of his way to be cruel to humans, but nor was he going out of his way to be especially nice to them. Getting…getting attached to humans never ended well. Or at least, it had never ended well for him. And Evan was a goddamned witch. Not only did it not make sense to be so affected by his distress, it was dangerous. To Tommy personally, as well as pretty much everyone he gave even the remotest damn about. He should have turned the decision of what to do with him over to Alonzo while Evan was still unconscious.

And accepted that the most logical thing to do was kill him.

Something in Tommy refused to just hand Evan’s fate over to his coven master, though. Something inside him rebelled at the thought of killing the witch. It made no sense. He couldn’t explain the impulse to keep Evan out of harm’s way any more now than he had been able to at Gerrard’s…he just knew he wanted to. Needed to.

But that still begged the question what he was going to do. Even if he could convince Alonzo to keep Evan alive, how could they neutralize him? Once he recovered his strength, he’d be too dangerous to leave loose in the coven house or the loft. It might not even be possible if Evan had ever trained in transportation spells. Either they’d have to keep him too drained to use his magic effectively, or they’d have to use even more unsavory methods to keep him under control. He knew, vaguely, that there were ways to nullify a witch’s powers, but it wasn’t like he could just call Howie up and ask him.

There was another option, of course. A crazy, even riskier option than keeping Evan prisoner. One that honestly had a snowball’s chance in Hell of even working…but the idea kept trying to worm its way to the forefront of Tommy’s mind. What if…just what if…

He shook his head, listening as the ragged, teary gasps on the other side of the bathroom door started to taper off. He heard Evan climb slowly off the floor of the bathroom, and then eventually the shower door opened, the sound of water pouring down on the tile floor of the shower briefly growing louder. One thing at a time. First, he had to get the witch to talk to him, and to do that, he had to get him out of fight or flight mode. Right. Easier said than done.

He crossed back to the couch and pulled his phone out, searching up the online delivery menu for the little diner around the corner that Lucy frequently took Lena to. He had no idea what was even an appropriate amount of food for a human Evan’s size—but Lena swore the pancakes were the best she’d ever had. He ordered a stack of them with butter and syrup, as well as a carafe of orange juice. After a moment’s hesitation, he added scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage links, and an assortment of sliced fruits that looked tempting in the picture on the menu. Should he get oatmeal? Maybe a yogurt parfait? The cinnamon rolls looked good, too. Fuck it. It wasn’t like he couldn’t afford it. He threw the other items into his cart and sped through the checkout, paying extra for quick delivery, and added a generous tip.

No sooner had he closed his phone’s web browser than it rang, Josh’s contact number popping up on the screen. Tommy froze for a bare instant, surprise flashing through him. Lucy had just set Josh onto seeing what he could find out about Evan Buckley only a few hours ago. If he was already calling, then he’d either already hit a wall, or—

“Kinard, what the hell kind of hornet’s nest did you step in?” Josh demanded as soon as he connected the call.

Or whatever he had found was going to cause problems. Tommy sighed. Yeah, that tracked.

“Good morning, Josh. How are you, Josh? I’m great, thanks for asking,” Tommy said flatly, his eyes trained on the bathroom door.

“Shut it, Tommy,” Josh snapped, and Tommy sat up a little straighter. Josh sounded stressed, and coming from a vampire Tommy had personally witnessed make vampires twice or even thrice his age break down into tears, that was…disconcerting.

“Josh?” he said, cautiously. “Did you find something?”

“Okay, first of all, I cannot tell you how much easier it would make my life—all our lives really—if you were somehow mistaken and you are not at our safehouse with a banished witch named Evan Buckley. So, this witch…is he about twenty-two, twenty-three years old?”

“Twenty-three, according to his driver’s license.”

“Of course. Pretty distinctive birthmark over one of his eyes?”

“Uh…yes?”

“Perfect!” Josh exclaimed, in a tone that suggested it was absolutely not perfect. “And are you sure he’s been banished?”

“I mean, we haven’t exactly exchanged life stories, but he was alone in a vampire den and he doesn’t have a familiar…unless it’s, like, a flea or a snail or something and I just haven’t noticed.”

Instead of the snort of laughter his sarcasm usually got from the other vampire, he heard Josh breathe out through his nose. Very slowly. “Tommy. As your friend and this coven’s head of security, you need to get rid of him. Right now. Drain him dry…we might need the firepower. And then dump the body as far out of our territory as you can manage.”

Shock raced through Tommy, and he actually jerked his phone away from his ear to stare at the screen in disbelief. Josh…Josh never talked like this. The younger vampire was fiercely protective of them all, and took his job managing all of their digital records and finances very seriously. He was a gifted strategist, and certainly had no qualms about sending Tommy, Sal, or one of their other stronger members out to “deal” with problems that came up—but it wasn’t like him to immediately jump to violence. He placed the phone back against his ear.

“What? Why?”

“You know I’ve got some…contacts in witch covens around the country. People that do the same things I do. We’re not friends. We’re not even allies. But we all understand that preventing conflicts between vampires and witches is in everybody’s best interests, and we exchange information to that end. I didn’t even have to ask anyone to go hacking—they just knew about this kid. It was a huge scandal. He’s from the east coast. Pennsylvania. His family is old magic, and I’m talking old magic. Their coven traces back all the way to before the Black Death in Europe. About five years ago, Evan Buckley was banished for murdering his brother-in-law…guy named Doug Kendall.”

Tommy frowned, his mind racing. Okay…okay, he sort of knew this from the strange vision he’d had while drinking from Evan. Licking his lips, he said, “Is his sister’s name Maddie?”

“What? How did you—never mind. Yes. Why?”

Holy shit. Holy shit that had all been real? “Nothing, no reason. Okay, so he killed his brother-in-law. Why do you want me to get rid of him so fast? There are people in our coven who have done that.”

“Because the implications and possible consequences of him still having his magic are bigger than our coven can deal with. Even during the trial, there were some doubts he was guilty. The kid was seventeen…and his brother-in-law was in line for a position on the Pennsylvania high coven. Do you know how powerful high coven witches are? There were also apparently some rumors that Doug Kendall was abusive to his wife.”

Tommy hissed, remembering the intensity of Evan’s feelings for his sister. How much he regretted not being able to protect her…and how much he had wanted to protect her during his trial. “Is it possible him and his sister were in on it together? Or that he was actually covering for her?”

Josh sighed wearily. “You are…not the first person to ask that. But the Kendalls are old magic and old money. Incredibly politically connected. And they wanted someone to pay. If the wife did it, unless there was overwhelming evidence that she’d done it in self-defense…well. You and I both know how loud money and connections can talk in situations like that. And the penalty for an adult coven member using their magic like that is execution.”

“But killing a seventeen-year-old boy would have been a harder sell,” Tommy mused. He could see it. He didn’t know jack shit about Evan, not really, but he remembered the absolutely unyielding love he felt for his sister from the memory he’d seen while drinking from him. Tommy had no problem believing Evan Buckley would have taken the fall for his brother-in-law’s murder if it kept her safe.

“Tommy, if this is the same witch—just the fact that his magic hasn’t faded after his coven bonds were severed is proof that he was innocent. The fact that he still has his magic five years after losing his coven bond is just insane. Even if he was innocent, he should have lost it by now.”

“I’m still not seeing why I should kill him,” Tommy said impatiently. He glanced over at the bathroom door again, assuring himself that the water was still running. “Lucy even said we had to think about the advantage he could give us. If Gerrard and Ortiz team up, witch blood could be the ace in the hole that keeps us from having to leave LA.”

“Tommy, listen to me carefully,” Josh said. “Not this witch’s blood. It’s not worth the absolute shitstorm that would come down on us if anyone ever found out we had him. This kid’s existence is dangerous for the entire Pennsylvania high coven. Do you understand how big that is in the witches’ politics? It has national implications. No. Alonzo already said I have final say on what we do with him. It’s safest to kill him.”

“Josh,” Tommy protested, and didn’t even know what he was going to say. His head was spinning with the new information.

And in his heart, he knew he wouldn’t be able to follow through with what Josh was asking him to do. He couldn’t kill Evan. He had no idea why…but he couldn’t do it.

“Tommy, there’s no other choice. Alonzo wants him dead and disposed of by sundown. If you can’t do it, Sal will.”

In the bathroom, the water finally shut off, and Tommy heard Evan step out of the shower. He drummed his fingers on the arm of the couch, his mind racing. “All right. I understand,” he said finally, disconnecting the call before Josh could say anything else.

Well…fuck.

#911 abc #911 tv show #evan buckley #mywriting #evan buck buckley #buck x tommy #shameless self promotion #tommy kinard #tevan #tevan fanart #tevan fic #kinley #evan x tommy #bucktommy fanfic

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maaikeatthefullmoon · 9 months ago

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As promised to my darling friend @tismrot, here is the first of The Holiday Diaries *insert ominous music here*. Hope you enjoy it, dollface.

The drive was four hours. I can’t drive. Essentially, I lived in a country where I couldn’t speak the language when I was of an age to learn to drive. After that, once I moved to the UK at age 18, I’ve always either lacked the time or money (or both) for driving lessons. So I’m a frustrated passenger.

The destination was somewhere I said I’d never go again. A few years ago I ended up in A&E (not self inflicted - it was a treatment-resistant migraine, which means I end up on a morphine drip. It happens roughly every 4-5 years) and I can’t say my memories of this place are great as a result. On top of which I vowed last year that I wasn’t doing this type of holiday again and I’d be taking the kids separately from then on. Oh yeah, and then I lost my everloving shit last night as well. Oops. Meant to have that conversation AFTER the holiday.

Big words, big breeches…aaaaand here I am! On holiday! Fucksake. But hopefully it’ll be entertaining.

Hour one.

Kids argued within five minutes. Googled car games for them. They just looked at me like I grew an extra head. Felt like a dinosaur. Googled if I can do EMDR to myself. Results inconclusive. Atmosphere in the front of the car very awkward. BBC Radio 2 on.

Hour two.

Kids still arguing, although son has helped daughter build a rollercoaster on Minecraft. Told them about Rollercoaster Tycoon. Once again felt like a dinosaur. Messaged a LOT of people to pass the time. Still listening to Radio 2. Atmosphere obviously still awkward. Ignoring the burgeoning migraine that’s been bugging me on & off for the past week+. Definitely stressed. Saw someone with amazing green hair in a service station. Exchanged smiles. Kindred spirits. Despite being young enough to be my daughter. Do wonder if these people smile at me in a condescending way, wondering if grandma’s escaped from a home…Oh look, that was an ellipsis. And I DIDN’T PUT A SPACE AFTER IT. Ha. Anyway.

Hour three.

Fuck the migraine, took a triptan. Radio 2 still on, did pretty well on Ten to the Top. Dollface, you won’t know what this is…don’t worry about it. Read through the edits @tismrot made on my chapter I’d been struggling on. Felt like the shittest writer on Earth, but needed that kick up the arse. Realised by the end of the hour that the new triptans pack a punch and I was stoned off my nut. Is that a phrase? It is now. Atmosphere was…ah, fuck it, I didn’t care any more. It certainly passed the time.

Hour four.

Put my own playlist on. Well, a modified kid-friendly version. Still occasionally get caught out as I just filter songs out that have an ‘explicit’ tag, but sometimes the tag is missing, and sometimes they’re just fucking crude without using any swear words. Whoops. Oh well. Anything was better than Jeremy Vine. Was NOT listening to him. Took the kids for lunch at McDonald’s. Embarrassed the 8yo by putting on a silly hat, and singing, and dancing. It’s too easy. 11yo gives zero fucks, nothing embarrasses him.

Writing this in a caravan now. At least I have good reading material. I’ve finally got my over-arching plot & everything planned out for the first original book & these two books are great reading.

After the blowup argument last night I’m essentially spending time with the kids alone, reading alone or writing alone. A L O N E

Although there appears to be a case of amnesia that’s set in already. I’m choosing to laugh hysterically at this

#the holiday diaries #I dislike caravan holidays #they’re just not for me #four hours in a car is too long for my crumbling spine

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bestfictionaldinosaur · 5 months ago

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Saurnament Profiles: Blue [Jurassic Park/World]

Blue is a "velociraptor" from the Jurassic Park franchise, specifically the Jurassic World movies, or the JCU/Jurassic Cinematic Universe as no one calls it. Born in a lab and raised more or less from birth by some guy that sounds exactly like Mario from the Super Mario Bros. Movie (and nowhere else), Blue is the beta of a pack of velociraptors, with the alpha being the aforementioned not-Charles-Martinet. She was raised in captivity as part of the new park's asset collection, and after the events of the 2nd film in the World series, flees and begins living in the Californian wilderness, while appearing to maintain some level of affection for her former tamer.

Now, the Jurassic World films have a built in defense mechanism for their dinosaur designs in that strictly speaking, none of them are actually true dinosaurs. They are essentially chimeras, created from the remains of dinosaurs, but with genetic material from various other animals, such as frogs and cuttlefish, to fill in the gaps as needed. So, it's technically futile to criticize them for accuracy, but I'm going to anyway in this case!

The JCU would have you believe these creatures are the size of short adult humans with incredible social skills and intelligence on par, or even surpassing that of humans. But in reality, these things differ from real velociraptors in 3 main ways: feathers, size, and intelligence. The first two can be summarized by this image:

Velociraptor is 2; 3 is the Austroraptor and 1 is the Microraptor. If the only dinosaur in image that you're bigger than has "micro" in its name, you're definitely not known for your size.

As you can see, Velociraptors were tiny! And, like many theropods, were covered in feathers! Note that not ALL dinosaurs had feathers, in fact most probably didn't. I plan to make another post on feathers later, but only a small subset of raptors had full on feathers. But, velociraptors were almost certainly one of them!

And as far as intelligence goes, well. It's impossible to measure human intelligence, let alone that of animals, let ALONE that of animals that died millennia ago. So we'll never know for sure. That said, the JCU depicts these things as highly social, capable of empathy, with the ability to use tools and calculate, all traits reserved for the most intelligent of animals, like apes and crows.

There is really no evidence for this. We don't even know for sure if they hunted in packs. But we also have no reason to believe they had any of these intellect based traits; by modern estimation they were no more or less smart than the average (non parrot, non corvid) bird. Pretty smart as far as animals go, but most likely not able to set traps and such. So less "clever girl" and more "moderately intelligent girl".

#saurnament #saurnament profiles #it dawns on me after finishing this i should probably cite some sources #this is all just stuff i know #but it would probably be better to do so for further reading and such #next time ill try to do that #dinosaurs #velociraptor

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uncomplicatedbookreviews · 9 months ago

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Jurassic Park

Author: Michael Crichton

Series: Jurassic Park (#1)

Rating: 9/10 ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Goodreads: 4.1/5

Date Read: October 2023

'Because the history of evolution is that life escapes all barriers. Life breaks free. Life expands to new territories. Painfully, perhaps even dangerously. But life finds a way.' ----------------------------------

Plot Summary: A large cast of characters including archeologists, mathematicians, lawyers, and a computer expert are invited to an island owned by an eccentric millionaire. Using preserved dinosaur DNA he has recreated magnificent extinct species of dinosaurs and other prehistoric life. the island is under strict security control and all of contingencies have been planned for. Nothing can go wrong. Until it does and hungry carnivorous T. Rexes and Velociraptors escape captivity and start hunting the human visitors. A mixture of bravery and cunning is the only thing that can save the visitor's lives and some are luckier than others.

TL:DR: A book perfectly at the intersection of hard science fiction and action-adventure thriller. The fame and success of the movie, has this book to thank for a solid plot full of action and characters that you love to love and love to hate. The occasional philosophical/scientific rambling can be intimidating, but is balanced by the constantly evolving story.

Characters

John Hammond - the eccentric elderly founder of InGen and Jurassic Park, Hammond is blinded by his ambition to create the biggest spectacle in history by bringing back dinosaurs. He is determined to open an elite amusement park that will attract wealthy patrons. He single mindedly believes that the systems on the island cannot possibly fail and that his experiments are completely safe.

Ian Malcolm - a cynical and biting sarcastic mathematician famous for his teachings on chaos theory a concept that claims that nature is essentially uncontrollable and unpredictable due to the complex systems underlying the natural world. He has made the trip to Jurassic Park to see if his theories are true and to watch John Hammonds 'perfect system' fall. He's surprisingly charismatic for a mathematician and he is an iconic character for a reason.

Alan Grant - famous archaelogist who is known for huge discoveries that uncovered some of the complex group behaviors of ancient dinosaur species. He doesn't see himself as a particularly brave or heroic man, but ends up proving himself to be one of the most reliable, intelligent, and brave visitors on the island.

Ellie Sattler - a paleo-botanist who studies the fossils and records of plant life, she works closely with Dr. Grant She is a woman of action and is always ready to make decisions. She is cool under pressure and willing to take risks

Tim and Lex Murphy - the grandchildren of John Hammond, invited to Jurassic Park as props for Hammond to prove that the park is perfectly safe. Unfortunately they suffer from annoying child character syndrome. Lex screams at the hint of danger. Tim does his best and is a very intelligent boy, but he's a kid and he's useless.

Thoughts and Feelings: This is one of the most iconic science fiction thriller books for a reason and it is one of my favorite books of all time for the same reasons. Crichton's books can swing widely from amazing to terrible, but with Jurassic Park he found a perfect balance between realistic scientific detail and action packed sequences that leave you flipping pages late into the night. I have a special place in my heart for this book because I'm an animal geneticist and this book expounds at length about the genetics of creating dinosaurs and the kind of veterinary care and consideration that would go into making sure they stayed alive. I live with a veterinary student and several times she would ask me something along the lines of "But do they think about how they would vaccinate dinosaurs against modern diseases?" and I had the pleasure of turning to her and saying "In fact, they do." Is it all 100% right. No of course not. It's a book about using DNA found in mosquitoes, slapping some other random animal DNA in there and creating living breathing extinct animals. It's never going to be 100% right. But that's what makes it fun. It's about imagining a world that feels possible. Like the existence of dinosaurs is just around the corner of scientific discovery. If you have never read this book and you loved the movie or you like books that lean more towards hard science fiction than you should absolutely give this book a try.

The characters are enjoyable (for the most part. Children characters in these crisis books are always a bit of a disaster, but what can you do). The action is good. The science is good. There's corporate espionage, dinosaur hunting, dinosaur vet care, high stakes and no holding back when it comes to the vicious strength of top predators.

Ian Malcolm really likes to wax poetic and go on philosophical rants. IF that's your sort of thing than this book has plenty of it for you. If you find yourself zoning off while he talks about chaos theory and the state of humanity in the world, I encourage you to just skim a little bit and get back to it. Just let him ramble.

#jurassic park #michael crichton #dinosaur #ian malcolm #alan grant #john hammond #ellie sattler #book #book review #bookblr

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ao3feed-destiel-02 · 1 year ago

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Travelers

Travelers https://ift.tt/dV3i9Ej by audithea “Let’s pack a bag, put some fuel in Baby and go. We can see the sights and sleep in nice hotels that actually have AC until we get to the ocean.” Or: Cas and Dean finally go on a road trip. Dean is a nerd (and keeping secrets), Cas enjoys nice things (and does his best not to worry). Dinosaurs are cool, coffee in bed is essential, and what do the Aztecs have to do with bottled water? (Set roughly nine months after the end of the main story.) Words: 15053, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 7 of Whiteboard Fandoms: Supernatural (TV 2005) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester, brief background appearances of other characters, Sam Winchester, Jack Kline, Claire Novak Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester Additional Tags: Timestamp, can you still call it a timestamp if it's 15K?, Road Trips, Secrets, Surprises, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Nearly Human Castiel (Supernatural), But not quite, Castiel's True Form (Supernatural), Dean making things more complicated than they are, vague references to sex, Schmoop, transphobic slurs, Transphobia via AO3 works tagged 'Castiel/Dean Winchester' https://ift.tt/hKTxlY5 October 19, 2023 at 12:06PM

#IFTTT #AO3 works tagged 'Castiel/Dean Winchester'#Destiel #ao3feed #ao3feed Destiel #Destiel fanfic #Dean Winchester/Castiel #Castiel/Dean Winchester #Dean x Castiel #Castiel x Dean

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mrultra100 · 1 year ago

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Do the Earthquake!

After a good while, we’re back on our continued through Prehistoric Planet’s second season, and what we have today is essentially Deserts 2: Electric Boogaloo. In all seriousness, Badlands was a pretty solid episode, but it and two of the later episodes in this season have 5 segments respectively. While it’s a bit odd, especially when most of the episodes from last season had 6 segments per episode, we still have plenty to talk about here. Just be careful not to step in any puddles of lava. We wouldn’t want anyone’s feet melting, now would we?

When your motherly instincts are stronger than lava and toxic fumes

In a bit of a neat bookends trope, the episode starts and ends with the Indian titanosaur, Isisaurus. This is basically one of the species’ first major appearances in pop culture, and the episode knew how to do these titans justice. Part 1 revolves around a herd of females making their way through the recently-formed Deccan Traps to get to a patch of volcanic soil, where they’ll lay their eggs. Just like with the Olorotitan from Season 1, the goal of this trip is to have the eggs incubated in the warm soil, making it easy for them to be heated enough to hatch. As the females eventually leave, the eggs are left to their own devices. And for the hatching babies? We’ll get to them at the end.

*Goofy yell plays in the background*

We then cut to Mongolia, where, just like with Deserts from Season 1, we bear witness to a trilogy of the dinosaurs that lived in this area. The first part of this trilogy revolves around a pack of Velociraptors having to find food for their adorable chicks. Luckily for them, an opportunity arises in the form of a herd of migrating herbivores. Obviously, the much larger Nemegtosaurus and Mongolian Titans are much too big to tackle, the pack has their eyes set on a much smaller target: Prenocephale. Remember that episode of Dinosaur Planet with both Velociraptor and Prenocephale? This is basically the modern day version of it. While the much larger sauropods are harassed by a group of Tarbosaurus, the Prenocephale scatter up the hills to escape their predators… while being completely unaware of the raptors waiting for them. As one of the feathery predators chases the dome-heads up a cliff, the rest of the pack lay in waiting, before one of them basically YEETS one of the Prenocephale off the cliff that it was running on. While the Tarbosaurus pack enjoy a dead Nemegtosaurus that accidently fell off a small patch of rock, the Velociraptor family happily enjoys their hard-earned meal.

Egg stealing …𝒂𝒕 𝒏��𝒈𝒉𝒕

We then cut to a different part of Mongolia, where we reunite with another feathery face from Season 1; Corthyoraptor. You know that old meme of Oviraptor originally being an egg thief, only to turn out to be a good parent? The latter is basically this scene. As the fathers watch over their eggs, late into the night, they’re soon being spotted by a pair of hungry eyes. The owner of the eyes is revealed to be a Kuru kulla, a species of raptor related to Velociraptor. While I’ve seen many people online talk about how Kuru looks a bit too much like Velociraptor, it should be worth noting that both genera belong to the same family of dromaeosaurs (the Velociraptorinae, to be precise). Getting back to the scene at hand, the female Kura manages to snack on a few eggs, before the Corythoraptor colony spots her. Not wanting to get in the wrath of a few angry dads, the Kuru snatches one more egg before she bolts out of the nesting colony, and right to a large rock. Just like her daytime cousins, the female Kuru is a good parent, having taken the egg for her chicks to learn how to crack and get to the yolk inside. How wholesome!

Welcome to the CLUB

The end of this second Mongolian trilogy features one of my favorite scenes in the entire series to date. You know how Tarchia made a cameo back in Season 1? The desert ankylosaur finally gets a scene all to itself, as a couple of brothers make their way to a hidden oasis. While one of the young anyklosaurs lingers behind for a bit, the other one finds a large watering hole hidden among the sun-baked cliffs, where a bunch of Prenocephale are seen. At worst, the pachycephalosaurs only serve as annoyances, which cannot be said for the larger male Tarchia present. After seeing this teenager wander into his territory, the old male sizes him up, using his large tail club as a warning display. It’s only with the arrival of the second brother that the tides begin to change. Outnumbered, and not wanting to deal with twice the tail clubs, the old male makes a hasty retreat, and the brothers get to drink in peace. Overall, this was one of my favorite scenes in the whole show, as well as my personal favorite from this episode in particular.

In India, the sausages EAT you

Returning to India for the last segment of the episode, the eggs laid by the female Isisaurus herd a few months prior begin to hatch into sauropodlets. They are cute, yes, but let’s face it; This is Prehistoric Planet, a show where things don’t end well for baby animals. As the group of baby dinosaurs head out to catch up with the herd, many of them will have to face through both perilous landscapes, along with hungry Rajasaurus looking for a snack. While many of the babies get gobbled up, the vast majority manage to survive the ordeal and make it into the forest, ending the episode.

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Given how there’s a dinosaur whose name LITERALLY means “good mother lizard”, pretty much

The Uncovered segment of this episode goes into detail about how many dinosaurs raised and took care of their young. The Isisaurus and Olorotitans covering their eggs in volcanic soil is backed up by fossilized eggs under this exact same process. The people behind this show certainly know their stuff, lemme tell ya.

And with that, Badlands is done. While I was originally hoping to get this next review done within a week after the previous episode, the nearly month-long gap between them allowed me to take a breath, and iron out the details when writing. I’m not sure if the review for Swamps is gonna take me a similarly long time to get done, or maybe this could be a monthly thing that’ll last a while. I don’t know. What I am aware of is this; This is frankly one of the most fun writing projects that I’ve done in a while, and we’re still not done just yet, folks! Stay tuned for the Swamps review! (When it’ll be finished)

#Ultra Ramblings #prehistoric planet #ultra's php2 reviews

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songofsilentechoes · 1 year ago

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Noelle would head back to the theatre district in Piltover. She'd turn down an alley next to a coffee shop somewhat tucked away. Pulling out her keys, she opened a door there and let herself inside.

The door opened almost immediately into stairs going up above the coffee shop. Barely enough space to be called an entryway, there was a very small coat closet and a hook for her cloak.

Climbing the stairs would lead to a small loft apartment, essentially a second-floor studio apartment with a ground-floor door. The room contained a small kitchen with a very small worktable next to the counter, a couch (with a couple chairs stacked behind it presumably for guests), a coffee table and a radio. A small bookcase and shelf, containing novels, research journals and trinkets, were located on either side of the door leading to the bathroom. On the far side of the room, next to the window looking out across the street to a park, was her bed. A few plushies sat on the bed and a nearby ledge, giving it a cozy vibe.

Also on the ledge, but further towards the foot of the bed, was an old can, half-full of ashes. Noelle had been meaning to empty that.

However, she couldn't think about that right now, she had some things to gather so she'd be ready in case Ava decided to take her up on the offer to visit tomorrow. She assembled some of her spices into her travel kit, as well as a few things she might need for cooking. They could pick up some meats at the market and make use of a grill at the park, so she didn't need to take any sort of cooking device. This freed her up to pack fairly light.

She then gathers a few materials needed to return to her house in her home realm. While she was used to traveling between realms, she wasn't as sure if Ava was. Better to take extra precautions so she would be safe. It was a little weird to invite her to her apartment, only to take her to another place she lived just to go to the park, but the kennel of dinosaurs seemed to be of interest to the harpy. Maybe she should take her camera or a sketchbook...

Perhaps she was overthinking things, but she didn't want her friend to stress out about the particulars of extra-dimensional travel, especially when her home realm was hard enough to adjust to for most people she took there.

#drabble

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itcamefromthetoybox · 1 year ago

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You Can Run, But You Can’t Glide!

Almost everyone has seen the original “Jurassic Park,” and if you haven’t, then do yourself a favor and go watch it right now. Are you watching it? Isn’t it great? Alright, so let’s carry on. NOW almost everyone has seen the original “Jurassic Park,” and I think we can all agree that it’s glorious. My wonderful wife, knowing my love for this movie, recently got me a toy from it. So today, we’re looking at the “Jurassic Park Dr. Ian Malcolm Glider Escape Pack!”

Quick rehash about the plot of “Jurassic Park,” in case you need the refresher: a rich dude finds a way to bring back dinosaurs in modern times, which everyone tells him is a bad idea, and decides to open a theme park with them, which he cuts some important corners on. He invites a group of scientists to the park to confirm it’s safe, so that the insurance companies will sign off on it. Thanks to the aforementioned cut corners and the actions of the single IT guy who worked there (“We spared no expense” my ass), the park’s power and security craps out during a storm, trapping everyone on an island now roaming with dinosaurs, including velociraptors and a T-Rex, because bringing those back from the dead in a world where they have no natural predators was a great decision. Now, there’s some room for debate on how much of the park’s failure is from the owner cutting essential corners and pouring money into things like presentation and ice cream, and how much of it comes from intentional sabotage from the IT guy, who it’s implied put in a very low bid to get the job, but it’s my blog and I’m blaming the rich guy.

The main focus of this set is my favorite human from the franchise, Dr. Ian Malcolm, as played by the always-delightful Jeff Goldblum. Malcolm is a snarky mathematician who specializes in Chaos Theory and is brought in to mathematically predict the odds of the park going to Hell in a handbasket. Once he sees the dinosaurs in person, he quickly goes from “oh wow, the dinosaurs are alive” to “oh dear God, this is gonna be such a disaster.” Spoiler alert: he’s right, and a bunch of people die. Malcolm’s such a delight in the first movie that he was made the star of the sequel, “The Lost World: Jurassic Park,” and would go on to appear in two of the “Jurassic World” movies.

The toy we’re looking at today, “Jurassic Park Dr. Ian Malcolm Glider Escape Pack,” is part of a Target-exclusive line of “Jurassic Park” toys meant to homage the original movie toys from 1993, when the movie first came out. And the fact it came out 30 years ago makes me want to go drink and cry. The different toy sets in this line are based off the original toys, but, unlike other toylines that have done similar things, such as the “Star Wars Retro Collection” and “Transformers Vintage G1 and Beast Wars,” the figures in this line are modern toys with details and accessories inspired by the originals, instead of rereleases of the orignal figures. They’re also not modern versions of the original toys, like how Hasbro released updated versions of Greedo, a Jawa, and Obi-Wan Kenobi as part of the “Star Wars Black Series.” Instead, the sets here are original sets based off different ideas from the original line, which makes for some fun and interesting toys.

This set features Dr. Malcolm wearing a winged jetpack, which the packaging calls a glider,” and swooping in to rescue a baby dinosaur from a larger dinosaur by shooting the larger dinosaur with a gun bigger than Malcolm’s own torso. This toy takes a lot of inspiration from the original “Ian Malcolm with Launching Tranq Missile Dart” toy. The Ian Malcolm figure in this set is a smaller version of the original, with better detailing and articulation. His glider pack looks almost identical to the original’s, just with the addition of wings, and his gun’s large enough to make an NRA member feel emasculated. He’s even got a large, translucent green missile, which is very similar to the original figure’s missile, just without the grey part the original’s missile had. In terms of being a solid homage to the original, this toy passes with flying colors. Plus, I do really like how the figure took a lot of inspiration from the original and then added on. It’s not the same toy from ’93 and successfully stands on its own, but you can still see where it took from that first toy. It’s a successful modernization of a toy from the early 90’s.

Not pictured: me desperately trying to clean all this before my wife needed to sit down.

Ian Malcolm himself is really articulated. He’s got articulation in his head, shoulders, elbows, legs, and knees, which makes for a lot of fun posing. In terms of looks, he’s fantastic. The sculpting is really on point with this toy. There’s a few buttons undone on his shirt, his clothes have some wrinkles, and even his boots have a lot of sculpted details. Where he really shines, though, is his head. His head does a terrific job of capturing the character from the big screen, from the rocker hair to the cocky smirk. One detail I especially love is what was done with his eyes. Malcolm has eyes behind his glasses, which are a separate piece that was attached to his head. Behind the glasses, and visible through them if you look close enough, are actual eyes. It’s an added detail to this toy that I really like. Just be careful, because since the glasses are a separate piece that the makers attached to Malcolm’s head, there’s a risk of accidentally breaking them off. It’d be hard to do, and I haven’t done it, but a small piece attached with glue or pegs will always have that risk.

Malcolm has two main accessories: the aforementioned glider pack and large gun. First, let’s talk about that sweet-ass glider. The glider pack comes partially disassembled, so you need to attach the wings to it yourself. It’s a super easy process, as the wings peg right on and stay on securely. From the back, it looks almost identical to the backpack accessory from the original toy, just with wings. What that means is that it’s a black backpack with translucent green parts on it. It almost looks like Jeff Goldblum is wearing a nuclear jetpack to fight crime with, and I am definitely into that idea.

Because if you’re gonna be a scientist, you should definitely have giant guns and jetpacks

Now, getting the backpack on Dr. Malcolm is a little bit trickier than it used to be, where you would just peg it onto his back. For this toy, you have to pull the bottom of the left shoulder strap out of the little slot it tabs into on the backpack. Then, you slide it over Malcolm’s right arm until you line the peg up with the hole on his back, which will let you attach the backpack. Now, put the left strap tab back into the slot. It’s a little more complicated than I like, and the tab feels a little loose. Also, putting the backpack on wreaks havoc on Malcolm’s ability to stand. He WILL fall over, and it IS because of the giant jetpack on his back.

The other accessory is the large gun with the green missile. I love this weapon. Between the absurd size and the green missile, it feels less like something you use to tranquilize a dinosaur and more like something you use to kill Superman. It’s pure 90’s glory, and I love it. The missile is spring loaded and does have some power, so keep that in mind. Don’t aim it at anyone’s face, or there’s gonna be issues. My only problem with the gun is that it’s so big that Malcolm will fall over if you put it in his hand. Rule of thumb: big accessories mean little balance.

Lex Luthor’s latest weapon to kill Superman

There are two dinosaurs in this set, and each have their own accessories. So yeah, this is a longer review. I just waited to bring it up until now because now you’re trapped in this review and have to see it through! Trapped! TRAPPED, I SAY!

Anyways, the first dinosaur is a baby triceratops. She has no articulation at all, which is alright with me since more articulated figures in this set would drive up the price. She looks very pretty, though. I love her colors, especially the facial markings. They draw attention to her surprised expression and match her horns, which, again, look very nice. I also really like her sculpted details. They add some texture to the figure and also really add to her appearance. Without them, she’d look like a cheap, dollar store toy.

Soon to star in about 15 “Land Before Time” sequels

She has one accessory, a harness that fits over her back. It’s a nice little accessory that fits pretty snugly on her and has a handle so Dr. Malcolm can carry her away. Getting the handle in his hand can be tricky, though, so you might have to fiddle a little with it.

It turns out that, even as a baby, a triceratops weighs a crapload.

The other dinosaur is a dilophosaurus, which, as a carnivore who needs to eat meat to survive, is our villain for this set. Because the Great Circle of Life can kiss our collective asses. She looks pretty good, too, with her dark green body and the leaf green markings. It really draws in the eye without clashing and sells the idea that this is a jungle predator. She has a little articulation, which is nice, since it lets her pose a little and chase her prey. Her mouth opens and her limbs can all move, but be careful with the legs. They’re a bit stiff, and I’ve heard some people worry about damaging them from moving them too much. She also has a tab in her back you can pull up that has a code you can scan as part of an app meant to go with the toy. Now, her tail looks like it should be able to move. It can’t. Don’t be tempted. It’s not stuck, it doesn’t need a little force to move, and it’s not a factory error. The tail does not move, and attempting to force the issue will not end well.

Ugh, she’s making a face. Now we gotta take the picture again

Her accessories are a set of restraints: a muzzle for her head and a set of cuffs for her limbs. The cuffs clip onto her limbs nicely, and the muzzle fits snugly onto the head. The end result is that you really get the feeling this is a dangerous animal being transported in a zoo. I really like how it comes out.

The all-dinosaur version of “Silence of the Lambs” was a smash hit

“Jurassic Park Dr. Ian Malcolm Glider Escape Pack” is a Target exclusive set that normally goes for about $25, but my wife got me this one for about $17 because it was on sale. The set’s aimed at ages 4+, but keep in mind that the giant missile does have some kick to it. Would I recommend this set? Very much so. The figures all look great, the accessories are fun, and it’s got everything I loved about the original toys as a kid in it. It’s a solid addition to your collection, and who could say no to the seductive looks of Plastic Jeff Goldblum? Next time, we’ll be looking at some more fun stuff in the lead up to our next series of theme reviews. For now, this is JS signing off and wishing you Happy Toy Hunting!

#jeff goldblum #ian malcolm #dinosaurs #Dinosaur Toys #jurassic park #jurassic world #toys #toy #review #reviews #toy reviews #toy review

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