#puzu

[tilinsfather]

is it normal to be a little scared of your kid

[sp00kymulderr]

Ah this was gorgeous, such a good, well thought out and beautifully written exploration of their relationship after the events on the green. You write both Cee and Ezra so expertly, I could see this all playing out - like this could fully be part of a prospect sequel.

Ezra and Cee

Summary: A short series of scenes immediately following the movie.

Word Count: 3,4k

Tags: Chosen/Found Family, PTSD, Ezra being a sweetheart.

Author's Note: finding people's drabbles about the two of them makes me want to share my own. I wrote this a while ago in an attempt to do an Ezra x Reader (Ezra x OC) story, but I scrapped it.

-----------

“They won’t let me leave,” Cee says flatly.

Ezra is still blinking himself awake, attempting to distinguish the colors and shapes appearing in his vision. He reaches up to wipe his eyes only for there to be nothing. No arm rising. No hand approaching his face. No fingers pinching his lids. He looks down affronted before remembering–that arm is gone now. Laid to tragic rest in a red tent on the green moon of Bakhroma. 

“They won’t let me leave.”

“Leave? What?” He looks over to see her slouching in a hard plastic chair. For a few moments, she too is merely color and shape until his mind catches up with his eyes. “Where are we?”

“We’re on the Basin. We caught the slingback just in time and I called for a medic as soon as we got here.”

Ezra nods. “Good. Good. Th-thank you, Cee.” A cough sends him curling toward the wound in his abdomen. Right. That, too.

“Yeah, she barely missed your lung. They said you were lucky you didn’t bleed out before we got back.”

Ezra lies his head back onto the pillow, a small amount of sweat beading along his hairline. His head throbs and his stomach is twisted in knots. He focuses again on his breath–shallow through his chest. It feels as if there’s still some dust clinging to his lungs. 

“I told them you’re my guardian, but now I can’t leave without your permission.”

“Your what? I’m your… I’m your guardian?”

Cee shrugs. “I had to put something on the forms.”

His eyes flash to hers and his heart starts racing. “The pod–”

“It’s docked. I don’t know if there’s anything on it worth selling.” She looks toward the door of the room. It’s closed, but still she whispers. “They keep asking me questions, but I don’t know what to say.” She looks scared.

He goes to reach his hand out to her in a show of comfort, but again, he must remind himself that his hand is no longer there. He offers an assured look instead. “Don’t you worry, little birdie. I will speak to whoever needs to be spoken to so that we can be free and on our way.” He closes his eyes. “I only need… a-a-a few more moments to rest my body.”

Cee groans as Ezra falls back asleep. 

The next time Ezra wakes, his body feels just as leaden. His lungs feel tight and he coughs, but there is no sharp twitch in his abdomen. Instead it has been replaced with an aching, rippling warmth. He looks around the room searching for any of his possessions. He remembers getting into the pod in his flight suit, but if the doctors had to perform surgery, they would have cut through it. It was too big and beat to shit anyway. Cee still dons her flight suit, he notices, as she slumbers in the chair. He calls her name a few times until she rouses. 

“You find any numbers on that pod?”

“Numbers?”

“Yeah. Chips. Chits. Coin.”

She squints. “Oh. Uh. Yeah.” She pulls out a long, flat black stick from her pocket. “I don’t know how much is on it, but I was able to get some food with it.”

“I need clothes.”

“What?”

He groans and clears his throat. “I can’t walk outta here in this paper doll dress.” He points, with his left hand, at the stick. “They got a gift shop around here?”

“Yeah.” She looks tired. “It’s next to the cafeteria.” 

He nods. “Good. Go see if they got some pants and a-a-a shirt. And maybe some—” He grimaces, but presses on. “ …undergarments.” Before she objects, he adds, "I would not ask if it were not pertinent.”

She shrugs. “Okay. What size are you?” 

“I don’t know,” he looks down. “This size.” He uses his left hand to gesture at his body. “Probably the same size as your dad.” 

She stares at him hard. “Fine.” She stands up and leaves.

He doesn’t remember his last stay in a medical facility, but he knows they like to be paid before departure. He also knows that not every exit is supervised. And if luck continues to be on his side, he will be able to make it out before the nurse shows back up. 

Poor Cee. She doesn't even know Ezra’s family name let alone blood type. Their last two cycles on the Green had been so hectic, all they had was whatever they carried on their backs. No identification. No wallet. 

No aurelac harvest.

He bites his lip.

‘ You’re my guardian, ’ she said. That was not something he had anticipated happening. A young girl becoming his ward. A young girl whose father he had tried to divest of a parcel pod. He briefly wonders what would have happened to Cee if he had been successful the first time, taking his escape and leaving Damon stranded without a single regret. He wonders if she would have been stranded with him or if they would have made their way to the mercs and procured transport that way. It is likely they would have made it out fine. 

Unless they ran into the Saters first. The leader, Oruf, believed that Cee’s arrival had been divine providence. And while Ezra wholeheartedly disagrees, he can certainly understand why they would have felt that way. A young girl, the same age as Oruf’s son, showing up out of the black and happening upon their settlement. What are the odds?

Then, he wonders how Cee’s father, Damon, would have handled it. Damon would have never given Cee up. But he wasn’t the wiliest fellow that Ezra’s ever come across. He was smart–but only to a point. He wonders if the Saters would have killed him and taken Cee. Perhaps Damon was destined to die on that moon–his greed and pettiness overcoming his common sense.  

Perhaps Kevva and the divines had played a role. Only the goal did not favor the Saters and their misguided ideology. Perhaps the goal was to save Cee. Save her from a father who made her climb inside the body of a Jata Bhalu at the tender age of twelve with no cap on her head to keep the blood from her hair. He wonders if she even wore goggles or gloves or if her father (and whoever else butchered the beast) threw her in there with no regard for her well-being. Maybe the man saw her merely as an extra set of hands to help put numbers in his pockets.

Damon had brought Cee with him to the Green, a place where no child ought to be. Harvesting aurelac was dangerous. He had seen grown, steady-handed adults lose their lives on that testy terrain if the chems weren’t balanced just so. 

Ezra sighs. He’s not sure why it all happened. Only that it did. And now he must continue to honor his offer of protection. Cee is still too young to sail the ocean on her own and if he has been deemed her guardian, even just on a medical form, then she he shall guard.

Cee knocks before she enters the room again. She hands him bright blue pants, covered in a repeating pattern of the red spacesuited tardigrade, Puzu, a gray thermal shirt, and a package of underwear. 

“Shoes?” he asks.

“Your boots are under the bed, but that’s all they gave me when they took you to get… you know…” She stares at his stomach, thinking of the patched wound beneath his hospital gown.

He hums. “That flight suit never fit me right but I am pleased to still have my boots. They were an investment .” He nods to Cee. “Now go see if there’s a way we can slip out while I get dressed. Then we can head back to the pod.”

“Should you be walking already?”

He clears his throat. “My legs were not the wounded appendages. Now go .”

She rolls her eyes and steps out of the room.

He dresses and puts the extra pairs of underwear in the pocket of his ridiculous pants. The hospital socks are scratchy and strange, but he is pleased to return to the familiar comfort of his work boots. The process takes longer than he would like with only his left arm, and he has to stuff his boot laces behind the tongue instead of tying them in a knot, but it is a fact of his life now and he does his best not to frustrate himself over it.

He checks the room. Nothing left but clothing tags and a plastic bag.

He pokes his head out the door and sees Cee leaning against the wall, bored.

“There’s an emergency exit around the corner that I watched a few nurses use when they went out to smoke.”

Ezra tenses. “We need to avoid the nurses, Cee.”

She arches her eyebrow. “We could go out the front door instead.”

Ezra groans. “Just… just go check first, alright?”

She pushes from the wall and heads to the exit. Ezra keeps his head on a swivel. He is within sight of a nurses’ station but it’s about ten rooms away and they seem preoccupied. Ezra hopes they are, anyway.

“Hey,” Cee interrupts his surveillance. “We’re clear.”

“Clear,” Ezra repeats out of habit and follows her out.

Although an unlikely possibility, Ezra keeps his left hand on his gut wound to keep his innards from falling out. The walk from the hospital to the freight station is a long one down a maze of metal corridors and they get a few looks and stares from passers-by. Ezra pays them no mind and Cee seems just as unbothered. 

It's a testy walk up the steep ramp into the pod, but Ezra manages. Once inside he takes a quick survey of his surroundings. He barely remembers Cee dragging him in it on the Green. Time had become a painful throbbing blur of images. Dizziness. Nausea. The feel of a hammer pounding in his skull repeatedly.

Now it is quiet. His discomfort is mild. He breathes clean, recycled air. 

Cee is still at his side.

Unfortunately, the pod was empty. He steps into the large metal storage space that had been stripped to hold oversized specimens of aurelac. There was dust. Loose bolts rolling along the floor. Missing panels. 

Ezra sighs. “Where'd you find the stick?”

“The what?”

He points. “The stick.”

“Oh. I found it up in the pilot's bench.” 

“Show me.”

She climbs the ladder at the back of the space and opens the hatch. She fumbles onto the bench and Ezra climbs up behind her. He sticks his head through the opening and is hit with the memory of their flight from the Green, when the pod was bursting through the atmosphere toward the freighter. His mind travels back to that moment when the adrenaline in his body disappeared and he was left with a cold, raw emptiness. Victory had not tasted very sweet with a gut wound and a missing arm.

Cee opens up a compartment next to the viewport and a few zippered bags fall out. A boxy plastic case tumbles down as well. 

A stuttered cough brings Ezra back to the here and now. “Open ‘em. Lemme see what's in there.”

She unzips each bag and Ezra fiddles through. There are flight cartridges, port IDs, a bottle of eyedrops–which Ezra pockets. There's a pod manual and a small blank notebook. 

“Can we sell any of this?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, that stuff’s not worth a lick.” He purses his lips toward the plastic case. “What’s in that?”

She grabs it. “It’s just for the manual–” Her eyes go wide when she looks inside. “It’s… I–” She angles the box to show him.

Inside the unassuming case, lined with a soft black fabric, are thick prisms of green Karolclan jade. Ezra swallows. Stunned. So sure his eyes deceive him. He picks one out of the box and holds it close to his eyes. The prism is cold and lightweight. On the broad side is a carving of a jaguar’s face with menacing teeth and round, goggle-like eyes. He doesn’t know why this case was in the pilot’s compartment. Maybe it belonged to one of the mercs. Maybe it was Mikken’s payment or maybe it belonged to that strange Karolclan noble himself. 

He looks back at the case. There’s dozens of them. Identical in size. Varied in opacity.

“What?” Cee looks hopeful.

Ezra laughs so hard, he starts coughing and tearing up. He drops the jade and groans, holding his stomach in.

“This is good, right?” She’s nervous. So so hopeful.

Ezra can’t see it, but his face is bright red. “It’s very good,” he chokes out. He’s ecstatic. Confused. Overwhelmed. The aurelac harvest would have earned them six and a half points each if things had gone to plan. It would have settled a few of his debts and allowed him a nice, long stint of comfort before he needed to look for work again. 

The Karolclan jade would earn them twenty points each. Easily.

He breathes in a slow, cool breath. “We’re gonna be rich , little bird.”

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

Ezra and Cee sit in a rented room. Ezra is on the bottom bunk of their beds. He counts the remaining jade and the chits earned from what they had sold already. Cee sits across from him on a small footstool eating a bowl of hot noodles. 

“Now Cee, I have no problem splitting this payout right down the middle for the two of us. It seems only right. But we need to talk.”

She tenses.

“I need to get you back to your family.”

“I don't— it was just my dad.” She rolls her eyes. “And sometimes my uncle but if he finds out about this money, he's going to take it away from me.” 

He sighs. “And your mom?”

“She's been gone.” 

“Alright then, what do you want, Cee?”

“What?”

“What do you want? You wanna go back to school? You wanna go back home? Where is home for you anyway?”

“My father and I had a place on the Pug.”

Ezra snaps his finger. “Well, alright then. Let's go to the Pug.”

“No.” She says quickly. “That's where my uncle is. He–no.”

“Well, you gotta go somewhere.”

She pauses, hesitant. “Where are you going?”

He sighs. “I don't rightly know, yet. This opens up a plethora of opportunities. For both of us.”

Cee’s shoulders curl in and she bites her lip. “Is it enough to go to the Ephrate? Maybe I could go to school there or something.” 

Ezra purses his lips. “The Ephrate?” He hums. “I haven't been through there in a stint.” In a way, yes. The money is enough. But Ezra is used to spending his numbers differently. More happily on the Fringes. Numbers last longer out there and twenty points would have him swimming in a steamy, hot bath of hedonistic pleasantries. But Cee has her heart set on the Ephrate and shit, after what she’s been through, Ezra figures she deserves to get whatever the hell she wants.

He smirks. "We can go to the Ephrate on this."

She looks about to cry. "Yeah. Okay." She pauses. “Wait, we ?”

“Yes, we. ” He glowers. Clears his itchy throat. “I’m not letting you run off on your own with pockets full of points.”

“But you should… you should be able to do whatever you want.”

“I’m not leaving you alone, Cee.”

“My dad used to work contracts and leave me alone all the time,” she responds meekly, eyes focused on some distant memory.  

The more Ezra learns about Damon, the better he feels about the man being dead. “Cee. I am not leaving you alone.”

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

In the rear of an empty restaurant, in a small windowless room, Cee and Ezra huddle over a series of forms. Ezra flips through the pages, still fighting the lack of dexterity in his left hand. 

He hums. “Alright, little miss. Would you like to be my niece or my ward?”

“What? What’s a ward?”

“You know. Uncle, niece. Guardian, ward.”

“Oh.” She shrugs. “What does it matter?”

“Well, things might be a little easier if we share a family name. It is not a requirement, of course, but it might help.”

She stares at Ezra, considering. Her face twists into a grimace. “I am not calling you uncle .”

“Ward it is, then.”

“But…” she swallows.

Ezra waits patiently.

“If I keep my family name, can my real uncle find me?”

“He can.”

“I don’t want him to come after me.” She glances over her shoulder to the woman in gray coveralls leaning against the wall, expressionless. She whispers. “I don’t want him to take my money.”

Ezra smiles. “You wanna make up a last name or something?”

Her face brightens like she’s been waiting for this moment her whole life. She takes the paper from him and writes in her new name. Step-by-step she continues to fill out the form with Ezra’s guidance.

Once complete, they hand the papers over to the woman, along with a handful of chits. She pockets the money first and then begins transcribing the paperwork into a small, white computer. The keyboard clicks loudly like an old-world typewriter and there’s a long, gravelly buzzing noise that sounds when she finishes. She has Cee stand against a blue square hastily painted on the wall and takes her picture. A few minutes later, Cee is given a new identification.

“Thank you, Denise,” Ezra smiles at the woman. “Always a pleasure.”

Denise grunts.

They exit out the back door.

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

They stay in a rented room close to Cee’s new school on Hohepa Station. It’s close enough that Ezra escorts her to and from campus every day. It’s expensive and small, but it is convenient. Their relationship grows tense the longer Ezra goes without working, without acting. 

Some days, while Cee is in class, Ezra will sit and stare off at nothing–numbers and possibilities rolling through his mind in an endless spiral. He has never had such a large quantity to his name before and he tells himself he doesn’t spend it yet because he wants to bask in the joy of such abundance. 

Ezra has always been a man of action. He is decisive, quick, ambitious. And in the past, all that enthusiasm had the same glittering goal–acquiring enough wealth to experience true freedom.

But now he has that wealth. He has that long-sought-for freedom. And he is frozen in place with no ground beneath his feet, no steady path to follow, and no gravity pulling him to some final destination. Anytime he tries to look ahead, there is nothing but sparse fog, vague and ephemeral. There is too much for him to do. Too many things to choose from. Too many ways for his numbers to deplete–one little drop at a time. 

One morning, Cee and Ezra are snapping at each other before they make it out the door. Ezra is fighting with the zipper of his jacket.

“Just get the prosthetic,” Cee groans.

He looks up at her, hard. “As we have already discussed, many times over, prosthetics are not perfect replacements. It will not work the same as my hand once did.” He grits his teeth and clenches his fist. “I am perfectly capable of adapting.” He tries one more time before ripping the jacket off and slinging it to the floor. 

Cee glares. “I don’t know why you have to walk me every day.”

“I am keeping you safe,” he spits.

“You're not my father!”

He stops. Breathes. It isn't like her to talk that way, knowing damn-well her safety was not a priority of her father's. “I know I am not your father, but that doesn't mean I don't care for your well being.” His lips curl in his teeth. “I am keeping you safe.” The words come out staccato. 

“We're not on the Green anymore, Ezra!” She throws her arms out. “We're not sharing tubes!” 

He stares at her. Silent. Soft. Still. She's right. There is no flight suit. No plastic helmet. No filter around their necks. He swallows and sits down at their small square table, only big enough for two. “Alright, little bird.” He waves her off. “Go on. Fly free.”

“Thank you,” she answers and her shoulders go slack with relief.

He rubs his thumb along his brow. “When you're ready to land, I'll still be here.”

“I know, Ezra.” She says in a whisper. “I know.”

-------------------------

Author's Note: I like to imagine that Cee bought him those Puzu pajama pants as a joke. The thought of Ezra having to wear them in public is hilarious to me.

[sp00kymulderr]

The cat dad!Ezra au

A younger girl lets you in, maybe 16, with mousy blonde hair and wearing a baggy sweater with a band logo you don't recognise on the front.

"Ez, looks like Puzu got out again" The girl calls out, silently inviting you in as she opens the door wider and you step through the threshold in to your neighbours apartment for the first time. The friendly black cat slinks out of your grasp and in to the next room.

You follow, curious to finally see Puzu's mysterious owner for the first time.

"She is a sneaky thing" Chuckles the man laid out on the couch, extending a hand towards the cat. She nuzzles his hand before jumping up on to his chest, squeaking out a few meows to her owner.

"Brought back another little birdie too, did you?" He mutters, tickling the cats chin, before his eyes meet yours.

[magpiepills]

Not For Nothing

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Ezra x f reader

Word count: 1.6

Summary: Ezra remembers his girl.

Warnings: Smut! Unprotected PIV, little dirty talk, creampie, male masturbation, murder! I think that’s it.

A word from the author: this is a repost! Nothing crazy, I really just needed an excuse to make Ezra jerk off.

Ezra clung to you that last night. Quieter and slower than usual, gentler, more purposeful in his touch, like he could drink you into his body by touch alone. You didn’t mind, it felt like it was important to him to take his time.

He stayed on top of you, braced on his forearm with your legs wound over his hips, he murmured against your neck, nose scrunched as he dragged it under your jaw and over your pulse before kissing you there, wet and tender, trying to make it stick.

You called his name as he rocked into you, so warm and wet and like he was meant to be there, like your bodies should be joined this way forever, like you shared a single pulse. “Our heart.” He said, splaying his hand over your chest, ever a romantic, or full of shit that he thought might sound nice. At any rate, tonight he fucked you slow and deep, making you feel every thick, throbbing inch of him, every beat of his heart through the rush of blood to his turgid member. You breathed, whined, met his thrusts, felt your whole body tighten as you came around him. All the while he soothed you, just above a whisper he coaxed you on. “Yes, yes, give it all to me, let me feel it. Come on, come on, come on.” Soon thereafter he had fixed his glassy eyes on yours and spilled inside your clenching warmth.

You slept, wrapped in his sheets as he finished packing in the dim light of the little Puzu lamp beside the bed. In the morning you helped him zip into his environmental suit for a last check of his filter. He let you fuss with the snaps, tighten the straps, and try in vain to adjust the too-big helmet over his head before sighing and letting it slouch over his head.

He didn’t let you go with him to the freighter. He kissed you at the door of the little apartment you shared, promised an expedient return, and you tucked a little envelope in his pocket. “Something for later.” You explained. You didn’t cry, didn’t fuss, didn’t fret over his safety. He’s a big boy, he can take care of himself.

Ezra had scanned the boards daily, looking for the right crew in the right expedition for the right reward. He rubbed the heel of his hand across his forehead, a moment of contemplation, a courtesy. He knew he would go. Bakhroma wanted taming and he wanted satisfaction. A perfect pair. One last stand, he vowed. One more chance to plunder the greedy verdant moon, before it was all but abandoned, given up as a lost cause. Too remote, too inhospitable, too hard to navigate. It was just what he was after.

That was cycles ago. Many cycles. Far more than he had ever been away before. Where he is now you could only guess. If he died on The Green you’d never know. There was no one to send word, comms didn’t work that far out, his crew was best described as unsavory, and it would be best if Ezra didn’t mention you to them. With the BG line shutting down, no rescue or recovery missions could be launched.

If he had found the fortune he was after, he could have easily skipped out on you, went to his brother in Spiria, taken a new name and parked himself on Lao, precious little chance you’d find him there even if you could find a way to get to it. So you waited. Cleaning and re-cleaning the apartment, waving off questions from your mother about his whereabouts, his intentions. You didn’t need her judgment. You were either despondent and aching in your chest, praying that his death was quick and Kevva would accept his soul, or cursing his name, regretting the day you’d laid eyes on his good-for-nothing lying hide. You hoped he would drown, get robbed, shot, stabbed, something. Anything.

As cycles passed, your desperation grew. Rent was due again. More than you could afford as a clerk. Ezra, for all his faults, was always able to come up with the rent some way. You knew better than to ask how. There was no option but to pack up and rent a single occupancy room on the other side of Central. Wake up earlier, go to work, come home later, convince yourself that Ezra may one day reappear.

You kept his clothes.

Your mother quit asking about him.

•••••

Thirty two cycles.

Ezra counted each one and marked it in his dog-eared and now useless log book.

What good is a log book without a ship? It was barely four cycles before things turned tense with his crew, a surly, pugnacious bunch of returners. A quarrel over navigation turned to fisticuffs, turned to murder. A body was laid to rest near a copse of trees with wide canopies and limbs that dipped down low. It was customary, they said. No rare occurrence.

The aurelac they were after wasn’t as abundant as the touted source had promised it would be. A meager pull split up 5 ways served only to rile the men more and, as they say, words and metal flew.

Ezra kept a handy side arm and dispatched two more of the no-account bastards before the struggle was through. He kept a gem case, but he was without a coach. No way to get home, and no one but a taciturn companion to help him deplete the stash of Bits Bars. Number two was silent but violent. Ezra gave him a wide berth, and while The Mule, as Ezra had taken to calling him, stood in seemingly endless watch, Ezra retreated into the shabby little tent.

For maybe the hundredth time he opened the little envelope, looking quickly over his shoulder before pulling out the treat you sent. Pictures. Of you. One of you smiling, bright and winsome, making his heart twist with self pity. Maybe he would never see you again. Maybe he didn’t deserve to.

The second picture was risqué. You’d unbuttoned your blouse, smiled deviously as you covered your nipple with your fingertips. Ezra squinted, hoping to find a hint of the forbidden skin in the soft blur of the picture. His cock stirred in his environmental suit as he thought of you taking these pictures. Taking them for him. He thought of you fiddling with the buttons, thought of you touching yourself, playing with your nipples the way he knew you loved, the way he preferred to do for you. He tore off his gloves and unzipped his suit just enough to shove his hand inside, gently tugging at his half hard cock, reaching down to cup his balls in his hand. He closed his eyes and thought of you as he felt himself swell.

The third picture was the one that made his heart race. His cock throbbed at the tawdriness. There you were, bare ass framed by the shirt you’d hiked up, and your fingers, shining with arousal, stuffed into your pussy.

Ezra’s eyes glazed as his mind took over, transforming the still photo into one where you moved. He saw your hips rocking back and forth as you slid your fingers through your folds, parting your swollen lips, dragging slick from your hole to your clit and back. He could hear your soft mewling, how you whined his name to torment him when you wouldn’t let him touch.

His jaw fell slack as he stroked his cock, trying to match the tightness of his fist to your sweet little cunt. He pulled the zipper open further, spat into his hand and worked it over his length, a poor substitute for your soft hand.

In his mind he felt the warmth radiating from your cunt, drawing him in, begging him to fill you up and never leave. He thought he smelled you in his mustache and on his hands, the soft, indescribable scent of an aroused woman that made his mouth water and his cock throb and he increased the tempo of his fist.

Ezra remembered the way your tits bounced, tight nipples so sensitive when he sucked them hard, making you gasp and squeal. He loved making you make all those sounds. Loved it when you forgot yourself and were loud, quivered when you came on his cock, the rhythmic squeezing of your cunt. It was like you were here, almost. The ghost of you with him in the loathsome tent where he jerked himself to completion into a rag. Wasting cum that should have been inside you.

Nobody cries on The Green. There’s no place for it. So he doesn’t. He tucks himself back into his suit instead and steps out of the tent, frowning at the relentless dust. A short whistle and nod call Number Two to follow. Ezra scans the ground looking for signs of aurelac deposits and Two keeps watch. Ezra talks, mostly to himself, since his partner never bothers to interject. A soliloquy is better than silence. The only indication that Number Two isn’t dead is the snap of his head at the sound of another voice in the distance. “…curious.”

•••••

The sky is gray, the pavement is gray, even the people passing you on the street were a gray blur. You imagined you must be gray, too. The trudge to your apartment was long. Longer even when you were exhausted and hungry. You thought of the leftovers you would have for dinner before going to bed and you kept on, up six blocks, down an alley, up three flights of stairs, and to your door.

A cruel mirage awaits you. An apparition, pale and tall and familiar. Slumped on the floor against your door, legs akimbo. When you could see his face, he smiled up at you.

“Ezra?”

[lafrec]

ARTIST : KIDDER

TITLE : ki002

LABEL : LIKE A FOOL RECORDS / LFR031

RELEASE : 2024/11/01(金)

FORMAT : CASSETTE TAPE

PRICE : ¥1,800(+tax)

数々のバンドを経てコロナ禍に結成された東京4人組のKidder。

今年3月に発表されたアルバムから早くも2枚目のアルバムの発表。

定期的企画となったLesson シリーズなどパーティーの亡霊に取り憑かれ、

過去の遍歴をペシャンコにする精力的活動を表現した8曲。

ハードコアパンクの薄いスープ、櫛が刺さらない雑音、Rに切られたDNAの寄せ集め、

斜め上に曲がった文字列、表現は物事を積み重ねて予想通り綺麗に倒れた。

前回同様、サウンドエンジニアは多彩なジャンルと多くの作品をドロップし続ける。

Studio REIMEI,VINCE;NTのシンマユウスケ&Total Control,Eddy CurrentなどのMikey Young、Art workは台北の新流作家Puzu Huangによるイラストレーション。

KIDDER、メンバー構成は、My society Pissed/ex-malegoat/ex-LIPUPSのTANABE(Vo.Gt.)、threadyarn/THE GHANのEDA(Gt.)、Nogio Angel & The Ska’nPin Bon-Bon’s/ex-your pest band/ex-flower zombiesのMARU(dr.)、ex-LIPUPSのYASUKO(Ba.)という4人、絶妙なバランスで成り立つサイケで奇妙なポストパンク/ハードコアサウンド、2ndではより方向性がはっきりしたサウンドメイクにバンドアン���ンブル、カセットB面ではよりアダルティでアーティスティックな楽曲も、まだまだネクストステージある感残してます。

The CureやQ And Not U、Antelope、Built To Spill、Deerhoofから6eyes、Panicsmile等、さらにPowerやTexas 3000、デュビア80000cc、Sugar House等の近年のジャパニーズオルタナバンドとも共鳴していきます！

アルバムから一曲サブスクも解禁しました！！

[tracklist]

A

01. 2nd Portion

02. Detective

03. Cream Pocket

04. Everything Here is Fake

B

01. Many Updates

02. Pad

03. Forget the Rules

04. Multi Lowest

[loversandantiheroes]

Fixing up a couple of old boxes from Michael's that were kind of grubby and a little too average white woman-y. The smaller one on the right came out a little more even, the paint I put in the mod podge didn't mix well and ended up being a little too heavily black, and for some reason it was REALLy stubborn on the big box and didn't want to dab off as well as it did on the little one, but it's not bad for a first go. I got some old latches coming so they'll close properly (they were velcro closures and the glue had crumbled off), and I'm thinking of doing some gold embellishments to fake embossing, but we'll see what happens there.

Normal adhd things: scrubbing mod podge and paint off your hands at 3am bc emergency insomnia diy happened.

[miyazai]

公園でワンちゃんの💩を拾わない人って最低😤 おかげでゆずまた洗われたし😫 Please pick up after your dogs. Yuzu had an accident and had to take an early shower. #柴 #柴犬 #赤柴 #shiba #shibaken #shibainu #puzu

[littlemisspascal]

Ezra’s Journal Entries #7-9

Fandom: Prospect / Pedro Pascal

Pairing: Ezra x Female!Reader

Word Count: 800

Summary: That’s the most terrifying thing about you, I think. You know every jagged piece of my story, and yet every morning I wake up to discover you’re still clinging onto me, skin to skin, soul to soul. 

Warnings: angsty fluff, language, 1st person POV (Ezra), dialogue in italics because that’s just how I chose to do it, no beta so all mistakes are mine

Author Note: A bit shorter this time, but some of my favorite lines so far are written here 💖 Thank you everyone for your support in this little series, all the love to each of you!

Entries #1-3 #4-6 #10-12

Cross-posted on AO3

Look for additional notes at the bottom.

I find it foolish at times to write as if you are the recipient, but it’s easy talking to the imaginary you who lives in-between the lines of this journal about things the real you dreaming at my side already knows about. That’s the most terrifying thing about you, I think. You know every jagged piece of my story, and yet every morning I wake up to discover you’re still clinging onto me, skin to skin, soul to soul. 

If I were capable of hating any part of you, I would loathe how you make loving me look painless.

Do you ever ponder about how the rest of the world will perceive your existence once you have transcended? I only ask since I’ve spied you reading biographies lately, losing yourself in the words of politicians and inventors and other grand figures who have stood the test of time. 

I’ll read anything you set in front of my face, you said to me on our first anniversary in an effort to prevent me from worrying myself into an early grave trying to determine the perfect gift for you. Novels, poems, fiction, nonfiction, anything at all. 

But what’s your favorite story? I asked, already formulating a map in my head of every bookseller I’d ever come across. 

My favorite? Your answering snort of laughter remains ingrained in my ears as one of my favorite sounds. That’s an easy choice. Our story, Ezra. The story of you and me.

Our story. 

I think about those two deceivingly innocent words often, especially during these moments spent committing my memories to ink. Every story has a beginning and an end. Nothing is incorruptible in this world full of perishables. I’m powerless when it comes to controlling when the metaphorical pen plotting our story will cease its scribbling, but that doesn’t mean I don’t contemplate the ending of our shared narrative.

I’m not naive enough to think Kevva has contrived a happy ending in mind for us, little love of mine. But it’s a pleasant thought to entertain nevertheless. Me, you, a child or four, living a settled down life of tranquility and redamancy. Cee would visit on the weekends she wasn’t touring the galaxy promoting her magnum opus. And if we were to find ourselves especially fortunate, we’d never know a day apart from each other.

Even if that future will never take shape, it’s a comfort to my splintered soul. Happy endings aren’t wasted on men like me. Our sins foment the promise of an appropriate demise. 

Simply put: we die bloody, bitter, and completely alone. 

I’m writing this as you’re listening to that ridiculously asinine PUZU show on the radio. I’ll never comprehend how a fucking tardigrade of all creatures can stretch such a wide smile across your face. It’s genuinely mind-boggling.

Puzo is a galactic icon, you said to me with utmost seriousness early on in our relationship when we’d barely been dating three cycles, shoving your cherished collectible keychain so close to my face it nearly poked a hole through my eyeball. Don’t you dare disrespect him. 

For as much as I acknowledge the countless ways we’ve been transfigured by influences beyond our realm of control, I’m beginning to realize some traits are buried too deep to be altered. A time capsule to be opened and marveled at when we forget our own foundational fundamentals. 

Contained within yours is your stubborn determination to love limitlessly. Anybody ever tells you not to love or care about something might as well have screamed at you to tear a piece of your heart out from your chest as an offering. And you don’t ever ask for those precious fragments back, not even when they’re discarded and left bleeding in the dirt. 

I’ll track them down someday, you confessed to me one night, tracing the lines of my palm over and over with your fingertips, featherlight and soothing. It’ll be like a scavenger hunt.

What will you do with them when you find them? I inquired, tilting my head to look you in the eyes.

You smiled at me, all pretty and sweet, and do you remember what you said to me? Your lips pressed right against the shell of my ear, breath hot against my cheek, and you said, That’s a stupid question. I’m giving them all away to Puzo. And then you retreated after a teasing nip to my jawline, giggling to yourself at my stunned outrage.

And it’s a testament of how much I love you that even now, all these cycles later, I can’t summon the infinitesimal energy needed to squish Puzo beneath the heel of my shoe and save what’s left of mankind’s sanity.

There’s also the dismaying fact he’s destined as a fucking cartoon to outlive us all.

Notes:

Nothing incorruptible in a world of perishables  = a little reference to my other Ezra fic, Into the Blue. 

Redamancy =  A love returned in full; an act of loving the one who loves you

Our sins foment the promise of an appropriate demise. = In Prospect, one of my favorite Ezra quotes, ‘Actions like these foment the threat of appropriate reactions’ and so I twisted the wording a bit to fit it in.

The sticker on #9 is Puzo from the PUZU show which I found referenced online in an article about the world of Prospect. You can even buy the sticker or a shirt with Puzo on it online if you’re really interested.

Puzo is confirmed to be a tardigrade by the film’s creators, also known as water bears and/or moss piglets

Series Taglist: @insomniamamma

Permanent Taglist: @promiscuoussatan @melobee @randomness501 @captain-jebi @artsymaddie @happiestsparkleofall @gallowsjoker @vintagesaph @sylphene @chibi-yuki @freeshavocadoooo @stilllivindue2spite @pointy-sharp @leilei-draws @theocatkov @over300books @oh-no-a-whovian @you-and-i-deserve-the-world @lin-djarin @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives @coaaster @waywardmando @thisshipwillsail316 @grogusmum @asta-lily @mylifeofcalculatedchaos @absurdthirst @disgruntledspacedad @sherala007​ @mejswho​ @uncle-kenobi​​

[tilinsfather]

No 💕 get help❤️😭🧱🤌🤷‍♂️‼️🤷‍♂️‼️😊‼️ puzu. Ur kid is lovely n stuff.

hhahahaha yeah

[jkjs619]

#effort Clik by #jkJs619 ❤ #flowerphotography #bugslife #bug #puzu #nature_shooters #nature #keralaphotography #keralaphotogallery #macrophotography #maniac_capturer #kerala360 #keralam #shots_of_india #colourful #lovenature @kerala360 @keralaphotos @vsco @vsco_360 @maniac_capturers @india.clicks @mobile_clicks_kerala @wonder_of_the_kerala @macrophotography.daily @macrophotographyuniverse @natgeo @natgeowild @indian.photography @shots_of_india @worldphotographersclub

[iisjah]

Louis smiling non-menacingly? Get him away from me! Louis de Guernica and his house pet dwarf dragons (he's a breeder of those beauties, but those two are his babehs) Bau and Puzu. Bau in a kissy mood and Puzu getting hit in just the right spot with scritches. Just. Right. There. They are adorable toothy dofuses. Dangerous cuddle babies!

My twitter - iisjah

[sharp7datwikk]

先日の『東遠茶飲みTRIP』で訪れた、静岡県は島田市金谷冨士見町にある『ふじのくに茶の都ミュージアム』にて。 『静岡茶辞典』をお土産に♪ #島田 #ふじのくに茶の都ミュージアム #東遠 #茶飲み #日本茶 #japanesetea #mythrobbing #myeos_m100 (ふじのくに茶の都ミュージアム) https://www.instagram.com/p/ChvsOD-PUzU/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[angusnazca]

優しくて　熱くて　卑怯なキスで... 彩ってよ　最後の夜　月が照らしてる... https://www.instagram.com/p/CVNo5l-PUZU-2YAFSzTrFO-bu64L-pVhi85atw0/?utm_medium=tumblr

[jkjs619]

Name arella kidilam puzu Cheriya pulii... #nature_shooters #naturelover #worm #leafeater #maniac_capturer #streetphotography #india_colors #indiashots #mobileclick #colourful #like4like #lenovo_k3_note #leaf #yellow #blooooms #mycliks @india.clicks @wildlifeplanet @natgeowild @natgeocreative

[crepuscularmelody-blog]

Okay so here i am and i have no idea what to do for your birthday. Originally, I planned to do a ‘18 things i love about you’ but it is either: 1) i love YOU as a whole and that’ll be only 1 or 2) i love everything about you so 18 things aren’t enough?? am i making sense here? no?? great.

I just want to greet my adore a bel love a happy birthday. Today is your special day so i hope you’ll feel the happiness you deserve to feel every single day and that don’t feel anxious about anything. You told me about your “October curse” but beks im here to protect you and to do anything that I could do to prove you wrong.

Hay beks, i dont know what to say pero malamang mahaba to kasi ang dami kong gustong sabihin pero ang gulo kaya bahala na.

I really appreciate every single thing that you do, from cheering me up by singing me a song, reaching out your wrist, giving me something to eat.. even your presence alone is comforting for me, sobrang gusto ko nalang lagi umiyak at i-hug ka sa sobrang pagging thankful sayo. :( jnaslkjcnasn okay gulo gulo nanaman isip q.

I also love how your mind works. Ah, my genius beks, genius hindi man sa way na halimaw sa math pero your curiousity and creativity is something that fascinates me, and I know that a lot of people also look up to how brilliant your mind is and how you leave people astonished by your wonderful thoughts. God created you in a very special way; you are special and one of a kind, the only one actually. I can’t even express how different you are — in a good way, ofcourse.

I love how kind you are. Not only to me, but also to other people. You might not know it but you have one of the softest hearts, you are always there to help others. Hay sobrang swerte ko talaga to have you, to love you and to be loved by you. In little ways you cheer people up sinasadya man o hindi. You make a room brighter even with your dark humor (haha), you just have this very very special aura (here i am talking about auras again but) I just don’t know but auhnsdkjabh man you’re so special to me.

teka lang, naiiyak na q.

hay ean nakahinga na q onti tas sinabi ko nalang na nanonood ako Corpse Bride kahit wala talaga ak pinapanood hhhh alam mo naman ako last minute lagi gumawa :(( okie inhale exhale kasi 12:00 na di pa q taposdkajsdna wait lang ha beks sorry nasingit pa pag-iyaq q hhh

I love your voice. Sobrang UHUAHDKAJHNDKAJNDA. Sabi ko sayo na ang boses mo ay voicification ng isang long n warm hug. Sobrang comforting, sobrang :(( everytime you talk to me, you call me by my name, you sing, you call me through vid call, you laugh, you breathe, haynaq ayan nanaman naiiyak nanaman ako anuna ely di ka na natapos  yung puzu q tumatalon or nagsskip ng beat. AAAAHHH BAT AK NAIIYAK SHET

haynaq d q na kaya yung puzu q nasa 2 na yata kasi sobrang d q alam haynaq pwede ba i hug nalang kita nang sobrang higpit hay mahal na mahal kasi kita nde q na alam gagawin ko yung sipon q bessy HAHAHAHA

I love everything about you, I love you Mr. Jonh Alfred C. Mendiola. Kahit na baligtad na nasulat yung n at h sa name mo, part yan nang pagging special mo para sakin. Kahit na yang ilong mo napaling at mahina pang-amoy, part yan ng pagiging special mo sakin at mahal ko yan. Kahit na may wrinkles at pimples ka, part yan ng pagging special mo, mahal ko yan. Kahit na ang liit at chubby ng daliri mo at pudpod lagi kuko mo, part yan ng pagging special mo kaya mahal ko rin yan. Kahit na machulit na bata ka at masungit minsan, part yan ng pagging special mo kaya mahal na mahal na mahal na mahal kita.

Sorry. Sorry for all the times na naging masungit o madamot ako, na naging duwag ako, na hindi kita kinakausap. Sorry kung napapag-alala o nasasaktan kita. Sorry kung napapahirapan pa kita, I know you’ll do everything pero I always wish I can be okay, I can feel better so I can show how much I love you. I want to be stronger and braver for you, I want to live for you  — and I will.

Thank you. Thank you for everything, for every single day of you cheering me up, giving me energy, giving me more and more reasons to dream, to believe, to survive, STARSTRUCK (charot nagpapatawa lang talaga ak kasi umiiyak na q)  Thank you for all of our dates and more. Thank you for making me feel happy again. Thank you for making me feel safe. Thank you for all the hugs, may they be irl or virtually. Thank you for your concern and care and support. AAAAHHH YUNG PUSO KO SASABOG NA. Thank you for literally saving my life. For staying and for wanting to stay. I can never put to words how grateful I am to you. This paragraph doesn’t and will never have the capability to express how thankful I feel so maybe I’ll just express it every single day that I’ll spend with you for the rest of my life.

I know we’re still young, but you make me think about how I want to spend the rest of my life and grow old with you. Before, I couldn;t even think of going on for another day but now, look what you made me do, by taylor swift you made me want to wake up every morning to see you, and I can’t wait for the day to come that these dreams will come into reality.

I know we’re still young, that there are still a lot of things ahead of us, bad things, great things, unexpected things. We might end up together or not, but I want you to remember that no matter what happens, I love you and you deserve love and happiness, kahit na kanino pa sya manggaling, kahit na hindi ako yung para sayo (teka lang) but I do hope that we’re the one meant for each other, I badly want to be with you for the rest of my life. God knows how much I love you, how much I pray and wish that you are that person that is meant for me, no matter how corny it may sound. I don’t want to lose you, just the thought of it makes my heart ache.

I know we’re still young. You, 18 and I, 17. But I know we’ll still spend lots and lots of birthdays together, watch movies together, drink more coffees together, study together, nap together, laugh together, cry together, travel together, live together.. I want to believe that we’ll spend the rest of our lived together, but what I want to do even more is to achieve those dreams, kahit na hindi lahat, basta magkasama tayo.

Mahal na mahal kita, Jonh Alfred C. Mendiola, my beks, my future Atty., my dog, my machulit na bata, my love, maligayang kaarawan.