#really!
Note
Can you imagine what it would be like if, after the adrenaline wears off, Mario has to tell his adventure and gets to the part "I got there just in time to save Luigi from falling into the lava" Saying that out loud and gradually realizing that, yes, he was just in time, because if he had been a few seconds longer, it would all have been for nothing. Going from "I was just in time" to "oh god, I was just in time". I don't think he'll be letting Luigi out of his sight anytime soon.
Speaking of angst!
We've been talking so much about Luigi and his manhole cover adventures, that we've neglected to dig up Mario's PTSD.
Mario snatched his brother from a fiery, unpleasant demise by the skin of his teeth. And yes, I am certain that Mario is probably being even more overprotective than he usually is, possibly even to Luigi's chagrin. But out of everything that happened during those crazy two days, it's the nightmare of flying through the sky, reaching for his brother, only for Luigi's fingers to slip out of Mario's grasp as he falls screaming into that lava pit that shocks him out of sleep night after night, panting and sweating. And maybe Luigi catches Mario sleeping on the floor next to his bed more than once, in those early mornings when Mario wasn't able to rouse himself in time to sneak back out of Luigi's room before he woke up.
#hello there#ask legobiwan#luigi#mario#super mario brothers movie spoilers#ah yes it's angst o'clock#my favorite time of night#hahahahaa#luigi brain rot#i swear i have happy headcanons for them as well!#really!
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👍
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We did it! <3!
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Weekly Fic (and Meat) Rec 50
Holy moly! This is my 50th fanfic rec list! I have to admit, these have been fun to make each week. Along with these fic recs, I also have a meat rec for you at the end! It's an interesting one, heehee.
To Err is Human, to Purr is Batman by Internerdionality - Batfam with a little Superbat, wip. Bruce gets turned into a cat by Batmite. It's super adorable :)
how to divide the conquest of they sight by streetlight_skeletons - Batfam, complete. A case fic. Something Bruce got into while on patrol is causing him to attack Dick.
Patchwork Pod by Ktkat9 - Superbat, wip. More mer Bruce AU! Still on the look out for missing Bruce!
Stand Up for Yourself by UnicornVomit - Batfam, complete. Jason gets in trouble at school, but Bruce has his back :)
The Return by lurkinglurkerwholurks - Batfam, complete. A re-read for me. A fic about what happens after Bruce gets back after being lost in time, especially with the relationships within the Batfam.
Bruce Wayne and his vampire boyfriend by Speechless_since_1998 - Superbat, complete. Jason runs into Tim at a gala. Tim tries to convince him that Bruce's boyfriend (Clark) is a vampire. Shenanigans ensue.
have your cake and eat it too by amyritter - Superbat, complete. Clark is sad he can't get hickies :( Good thing he has a creative partner :)
As promised, a meat recommendation! If you're from Pennsylvania, you already know it, it's scrapple!
Here is the Wikipedia entry for it:
I was introduced to this dish when I was in college! One of my meat science professors was from that state, and he wanted to teach the processed meats class I was in how to make it. It's actually a pretty interesting dish! Leftover pork meat and pork offal are ground up, mixed with spices, buckwheat flour/cornmeal/wheat flour, and water. It's cooked down and put in to loaf pans so you get that loaf shape. It's sold fully cooked, so you could eat it as is when you buy it, but it's traditionally served sliced thin and pan fried on both sides to get that nice crispy crust. I like to eat mine with maple syrup! It's a nice contrast of sweet and savory, I think.
At one of my previous jobs, I worked in a pork packing plant in Pennsylvania, so we made this! It would be served in the cafeteria as one of the breakfast options, and they would DEEP FRY the slices. They were nice and crispy then!
I think what I like so much about this product is the whole thought process that went into making it, so the packer/butcher shop owner could make money from inexpensive parts of the hog. It is literally made of the leftover parts of the hog that no one wants to eat by themselves (hearts, livers, kidneys). Also, the flours and meals added to extend the product tends to be pretty cheap compared to the meat. The water added as well is also pretty inexpensive. It's a way to create value out of parts of the hog that people would normally not eat, while making it tasty (in my opinion) too! It's problem solving at the meat butchery level!
I know some people might read/look at this and think "gross!!", but I just think it's neat (insert Marge Simpson potato meme here). I also have some good memories that I associate with scrapple when I was going to school and when living in Pennsylvania. ALSO, we have this new thing going on at my work where all the food labs get together and discuss what's happening in our labs each month. The R&D director said that he's open to suggestions to showcase interesting food products in our industry at the end of the meeting. I suggested this to my boss and he didn't like it, probably because he thinks it's gross or something. This is my little "fuck you" to him (that he will never see since he is a straight white man who has no idea what Tumblr is).
Happy reading (and eating!)
#weekly fic recs list#fic recs#fanfic recs#fanfiction reccomendations#superbat#batman#bruce wayne#batfam#superman#clark kent#fic rec#scrapple#really!#it's good!#give it a try before you form an opinion
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I'm not much of talkative and rarely typing words but I really really appreciate the compliments you guys give me every time 🌹
#often wonder about my own drawings and think I'm not doing enough#but every time see the tags or comments give me a lot supports!!#argharaarggggr want to type somethin more but my vocab and grammmar too bad I cant kjsajkdasdkj#all i want to say is#thank you so much for liking my arts!#really!
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when you amass orcs 2 after amassing zombies 3
#magic the gathering#mtg#memetg#mst3k#mtglotr#it becomes a zombie orc army that's a 5/5#really!#maro said so!
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look up the words: celebrity, outfit, aesthetic, quote, color, character, season and place. the first thing that pops up is how pinterest sees you!
Thanks for the tag @joejoequinnquinn ! 💞
I love doing these because they so often DO NOT reflect me at all, and I honestly wonder whether it’s a fault with the Pinterest algorithms or the fact that my brain is so random they just don’t know what to do with me. Some of these track, but some… not so much!! 😂
Tagging for fun and with no pressure (honestly, if you wanna, just join in 😃): Tags: @jamdoughnutmagician @curlyjoequinn @madaboutmunson @airen256 @sunshinepeachx @the-unforgivenn @indulgence-be-thy-name @apomaro-mellow @manda-panda-monium @somnambulic-thing @bettyfrommars
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Hope y’all have an amazing weekend! ❤️
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Edit: FOUND - thanks everyone.
I'm looking for a particular post that I didn't save and can't seem to search up and I wonder if anyone else has it and can help. I read it at the time and went yeah-nah and moved on and now my stupid brain has gone "well, there's your connection, actually" and now I can't find it to check my cross reference.
It about how the op think there may be a finite amount of miracle energy available, and that's why Aziraphale keeps getting warnings about doing too many "frivolous" miracles and also why Heaven wants to start the next war.
I don't think it was posted that long ago, maybe in the last week or so?
#good omens#good omens meta#I keep a log of useful links#really!#maybe I read this one while I was sick
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Tagged: Five Character Associations - Evander Winsome
Emotions:
Exhilaration
Regret
Spite
Joy (so much joy)
Grief (so much grief)
Colors:
Dusty tans and oranges
Whites that are frankly irresponsibly pristine for this environment
A practical gray
A faded, rusty red
A deep indigo, dark as night and not really his, but it's there just the same
Scents:
Brass, copper, steel; something metallic that you can't quite place.
Bourbon
Sandalwood
Citrus
Just a hint of jasmine. Huh. Must've snuck in with the indigo.
Objects:
A weapon; something small and collapsible, tucked away in hopes it won't see the light of day
A small bag of nuts or dried berries for the road, just in case.
A puzzling assemblage of bolts and nuts; something to be tucked into the palm of the hand and turned over endlessly between the fingers while deep in thought.
A nice pair of boots.
A dumb hat.
Body Language:
A shrug. Confident, non-committal, whatever works.
A straight face.
Cracking knuckles.
A heaving sigh.
An awkward, perplexed look and a scratch at the back of the head.
Aesthetics:
Lockpicks, cherished and well-loved
(Play with matches if you think you need to play with matches)
A tarnished compass and a faded map
(Seek out the hidden places where the fire burns hot and bright)
A worn and beaten flask
(Find where the heat's unbearable and stay there if you have to)
A stained shot glass on the sill of a broken window
(And don't hurt anybody on your way up to the light)
Half of an inspirational-but-rebellious quote carved into a public bench, forever unfinished
(And stay alive; just stay alive)
Tagged by: @thefreelanceangel (Thanks!)
Tagging: I, uh... everyone. Just, like, everyone. Everyone do this. I think probably everyone already has, but maybe do it again? I dunno. I'm not your dad. I'm not your mom, either. I'm just your weird-but-well-meaning neighbor.
#tagged#tag#thing#tag thing#man look I'm bad and can't keep track of any of this#but thanks!#Really!#My disorganization doesn't mean I don't love doing these things.
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instagram
@mlcpopfan - how rude to be only Wednesday
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I love Kid Transformation Stories. Those stories are always so cute and fluffy and make me feel happy (and it's always fun for the character info/interactions that show up). It's also usually one of those standard fanfic genres you'll find in pretty much every fandom.
So imagine my surprise that there really... Weren't that many in Moomins. I only found one, and it was for the parents getting turned into tots. (And absolutely adorable, btw.)
Of course, this meant my brain promptly started ruminating on its own idea for a Kid TF Fic for Snufkin. (Because I always bully the characters that I like. 😆 )
Basically, Skufkin has been coming down with a cold and is planning on disappearing for a few days to take care of it himself. It's just a little cold and there's no reason for him to bother everyone else with something that he can recover from by himself. (Never mind that the Moomins would never see him asking for help as a bother.) But, obviously, this doesn't go the way he wanted/expected.
Someone/thing magical runs across him on his way to pack up his camp (I've been using "fairy" but that's still subject to change), who views his plans as less "I am Independent and Capable of taking care of Myself" and more "I am a Stubborn Kid that doesn't want to be Babied." (Completely missing the worry about being a burden/bother that's in there as well.) So they decide that they need to show him that there's nothing wrong with getting babied if you're unwell.
They turn him into a little kid to help him "get the message". And leaves after sending up some sparks to make sure someone finds him. (After all, he can't get better without help right now and if no one finds him, it would defeat the purpose of the lesson. Wouldn't it?)
Moomin is the one who finds Snufkin and hurries him home to see if Moominmama can do something to change him back.
Kid shenanigans (and cold shenanigans) ensue.
(The spell has a built-in time limit. After x number of days once the cold is gone, he'll change back to normal. No potions or special medicine or special conditions that need to be met before then.)
Still debating the finer details of the change, like if Snufkin is still himself but dealing with being a little kid physically (and emotionally), or if he's been regressed totally and is just a confused baby until he changes back. But no matter what, I want Cute Baby Stuff happening.
(also, of it's the second one, the Moomins collectively decided that (due to the context clues they've gotten about Snufkin's childhood) they are going to Spoil Him Rotten until this is fixed.)
#moomins#moominvalley#moomin valley#snufkin#snusmumriken#snufkitten#baby snufkin#kid snufkin#rosies art#rosies fanfics#rosies writing#rosies fanart#I am working on this one#I promise you#But if other people wanna write this...#I would love to read it#really!
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You Gotta Get Going (if you're gonna make a showing)
Because Bix was in such a bad state in the last story, I wanted to write something where she'd started to put herself back together a little.
Title from the Peggy Lee song, "It's a Good Day," which is an old-timey bop. Although I always substitute "don't forget your pills" when I sing along.
You Gotta Get Going (if you're gonna make a showing)
Bix checked the back door. Locked. Of course it was. Brasso always checked all the doors before he left in the morning, because when he left she was generally still asleep, and their rented house wasn't in the best part of Gangi port.
And this wasn't Ferrix, where people looked after each other. Or stuck their nose in. Often both. If someone tried to break into this house, their neighbors would all look away.
So. Doors all locked, windows all sealed, before Brasso left.
It made her feel more in control to check them, though, even knowing Brasso would have. It was responsible. Forward-thinking. The kind of thing a person who wasn't a human wreck would do, checking the doors before she left.
"Bee," she said, pulling down her coat. "I'm going out."
"Wh-where?"
She really had to find some resources on a MO model's voice box, she thought for the fifth or sixth time just that week. Everything she'd ever read over the years said it was due to glitches in the programming, but there had to be something mechanical she could tweak.
"Just out. Just an errand."
"H-how long will y-you be?"
She stopped in the middle of pulling on her gloves and went to crouch in front of him.
"Beebee," she said gently. "I'm okay. Today's a good day. I didn't dream last night. I promise I'm not going out looking for - " Drink. Drugs. Sex. A fight. Any or all of the above. "I'm just running up to the secondhand shop to sell back some of my repairs."
Something in the angle of Bee's top casing looked skeptical.
"If I'm more than an hour, you can call Brasso. I won't be mad."
At her lowest, she'd shouted at Bee for doing exactly that, and caught herself mid-scream. Bee, who was as scared and lonely as any of them, without Maarva, without -
It had made her crawl into her bed and huddle in a pile of self-loathing for a day, which hadn't felt any better than the screaming.
"O-k-kay," he said, almost sternly. "One hour."
She smiled at him and picked up her bag. The parts she'd been working on all morning clunked against each other inside.
Hair brushed and braided. Socks on, shoes on. Mood tab swallowed, out of the bottle Brasso couldn't afford on his dock worker's salary, but bought anyway. Coat zipped up against the cutting wind off the sea. Scarf wrapped around her head. Front door, locked behind her.
She checked them off in her head like a list of how to be a person.
The window next to the door - one last double-check, from outside. just like Brasso did - was the same window that was over her bed. She'd stared out that window for hours, numb and blank, when they'd first gotten here, haunted by what the Imperials had done to her.
Focus on the birds when it’s bad, Bixy, Jezzi had murmured, fingers tender in her hair. Watch them soar.
Jezzi was gone, back to Ferrix, but Bix still watched the birds on her worst days. Lying there, she would think, who even am I anymore?
She remembered the Bix Caleen she used to be once. Strong, tough, centered. Supremely confident in her place. Striding through her little world and knowing where her feet would land. A Ferrix girl, a business owner, someone trying to fight against the Empire in her own way.
But it was like thinking about someone she used to know, a long time ago. The center had been pulled out of her in a dingy hotel room, scattered to the winds on the screams of dying children.
She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and pressed her hands to the nearest wall. "Good day," she muttered, focusing on the rough, cold stone under her palms. "It is a good day. It is going to be a good day."
When she could, she walked on, listening to the birds.
Gangi Port people passed her by, some of them giving her sidelong looks, some looking past her. It never would have been like that back home. This six-block journey would have taken an hour because she had to stop and say hello, how are the kids, sorry to hear about your granddad. Oh me? Shop's good, Paak's good, Timm's good, of course, I'll tell 'em you say hello.
Well, you're not there anymore. You're here.
The secondhand shop was supposed to be open all day. But the clerk was locking up, a package under his arm.
"Where are you going?" she demanded. The sound of her own voice threw her. Loud. Confident.
He whipped around, bone-white, then gasped and leaned back against the door. "It's just you."
"Yeah, just me, here to sell you some stock. Where are you going?"
"Out."
It sounded so much like her own words to Bee that she narrowed her eyes. He looked away.
"I've got an errand," he said. "Delivery."
She kept silent.
"I - the - it's got to go out. Today. Someone was supposed to pick it up. But he - they - the lunch hour got cut because they - and - I have to. Delivery."
Wow. He was a mess. And she could say that as a certified hot mess herself.
"You're going to lose a lot of business closing up like this," she said. "Everyone shops on their lunch hour. Your boss know?"
His eyes darted to the side.
"He doesn't know," she said. "How's about I tell him?"
"Please," he said. "Please, I - this is important. This - this package. It's important."
She looked at the package. It was a square box wrapped in brown paper, unlabeled except for a light pencil sketch of a bird in one corner.
She knew in her bones it was going to the Rebels. Somehow, some way, it was destined to fight the Empire.
She should stay out of this. Wasn't this how she'd ended up in that hotel room?
"Listen," he said again, the tones of a man with a brilliant idea. "Why don't we make a deal?"
"What kind of deal?"
"I'll buy all those off you, sight unseen, if you take this down to the docks for me and don't tell anyone, ever. Then I won't have to close."
"You'll buy all my stuff anyway, so your deal's shit. Throw in twenty-five credits extra and I'll do it."
He narrowed his eyes at her. "Twenty extra, but only when I get confirmation it's on its way."
Okay. He wasn't as dumb as he looked.
"Done," she said. "Where am I taking it?"
"The docks."
The docks. Damn. Walking there, finding whoever was waiting for this package, and walking back would put her well over the hour she'd promised Bee.
But the docks was where Brasso was, so she would find him and -
Well. She'd catch his eye from afar. Show him she was there. Wave that she was going home.
They were awkward lately, since she'd tried to kiss him in the middle of an argument, while she was drunk off her ass, and he'd just stood there like a stone pillar. They hadn't spoken about it since. Hadn't spoken about much. She'd known Brasso since she was born and sometimes lately it felt like living with a stranger.
She rustled in her bag and brought out the pieces she'd repaired to the clerk, who traded them for his package. She opened her bag and tucked it in, and the shoulder strap immediately cut harder into her shoulder. Heavy. And the way it rattled felt like - hmmm. Maybe a carbonti sensor array?
No wonder he needed it delivered so bad. Those could fetch enough for four bottles of mood tabs. She should have held out for more.
"Who am I meeting?"
"Don't know."
"Don't know? You sure this is legal?" she said, just to tweak him. His eyes darted again.
Seriously? Someone needed to teach him about how to play it cool.
"He'll be wearing a scarf."
Saying nothing, she lifted the ends of her own raggedy scarf. It was cold enough to freeze a tauntaun's tits out here. Everyone was wearing a scarf.
"Orange. White stripes. You need to go. Their lunch hour got shorted today. That's why I had to deliver it."
"Fine," she said. "Going. White with orange stripes."
"Orange! With white stripes!"
She waved over her shoulder as she twirled on her heel to head down the sidewalk. The sea birds shrieked joyfully overhead.
The walk to the docks was a mile and a half. Her legs started to get tired. She rarely walked this much anymore. Her mood, so buoyant, began to sag. The screeches of the birds began to grate.
Was she out of her head? Well, yes, she was. But playing courier for Rebels? Again?
But what would it get her if she didn't? She'd still be poor broken Bixy, shattered into pieces, whether she did this or not. So why not? Why not hit back if she could?
Maybe it was a mosquito bite of a strike, but she'd've done it.
What could a mosquito bite do?
Fucking well annoy them, and she'd take that.
Swinging wildly from up to down, she still kept walking, one foot in front of the other. Her thighs ached, and her shoulder burned from the unaccustomed weight of her bag. When a patrol marched by at the end of a street she was walking down, she froze, and couldn't move for at least five minutes.
When her knees unlocked, she almost turned and went back. Keep your twenty credits, here's your package.
But she was closer to the docks now than she was to the shop. And the patrol was gone. They wouldn't come around again, not in the time she had.
Keep walking, Bixy.
The smell reached her first, fish and salt, and then the sounds of water ships, the slap of water and the shouts of the sailors. A bell clanged, tang, tang, tang, tang, small and tinny to someone who'd grown up with the resonant clang of the anvil in the tower. The workers started flooding off the dock, some heading for a beach shack, some pulling food from their pockets, some meeting a person waiting for them with a pail and a kiss. She scanned them all for an orange scarf, and also for Brasso's big form.
"Heyyyy, Bixy."
Ahhhhh, kriff.
Norlis was obnoxious in two ways - one, he'd once heard Brasso calling her Bixy, which was how she'd been known to most of Ferrix from birth to fifteen, and thought it was cute - or more accurately, thought he was cute when he said it. And also, she'd screwed him. Twice, which meant he thought it could be an ongoing thing.
Okay, she'd been drunk both times, but still, she didn't know what she'd been thinking.
Please let him not be wearing an orange scarf.
She looked over her shoulder. Stone and sky, there was mercy in the universe. His scarf was black. "What do you want?"
He grinned at her. "Think it's more about what you want. You came to see me? That's so cute. Did you bring lunch?"
"Kriff off. I'm not here for you."
"Aren't you, though?"
"No, I'm not. Leave me alone."
He put his hand on her arm, and she yanked away. He reached for her again and she grabbed his arm, twisting his wrist until he went to his knees, cursing.
"Leave," she snarled. "Me. Alone."
He called her a filthy name. She twisted harder. He glared, then nodded yes. Then she dropped his arm and turned to walk away.
Brasso stood just behind her, huge arms folded over his huger chest.
Well, now she knew why Norlis had given in so quickly.
"I took care of it," she said, striding past him.
"I know," he said. "What's wrong?"
"I just said - "
"Not him. What's wrong? Why are you here? What do you need?"
"Nothing's wrong." She looked around, searching out an orange scarf with white stripes. "I don't need anything."
"You just took a walk?" he said, voice overloaded with skepticism.
"I'm running an errand." It had been orange and white, right? Yes, she'd repeated it, messing with the clerk on purpose. Orange and white. Orange and white. Orange and -
"What kind of errand?"
Kriff it!
She spun around and saw what she'd missed before - the scarf wrapped around Brasso's neck. Faded orange with dingy white stripes.
She stared at it, mind whirling.
Brasso. Brasso had - Brasso was -
"Bix," he said.
"I - I came to bring you this," she said, lifting the bag off her shoulder.
He frowned at her, then looked in the bag. His eyes shot back to hers. "You know what this is?"
"Yeah," she said. "Do you?"
He looped it over his shoulder. "Thanks, Bixy," he said a little too loudly. She was surrounded by people she could fleece blind in sabacc. "Let's walk this way, eh?"
He laid his big, warm hand on her shoulder and steered her off to one side. He stepped confidently down a set of jumbled boulders at the edge of the water, clearly knowing the way to a favored spot. When he turned to offer his hand, she ignored it and picked her own more precarious way down.
He dropped to a large, flat boulder with a sigh and pulled a protein bar out of jacket. He bit off a corner and chewed meditatively for a moment. “Who gave you this?” he said.
She settled down next to him, the stone bitter cold against her butt. She tugged her coat around herself and wished she'd thought to put some food in her own pocket. “Clerk at the secondhand shop. I was going in to sell some of my pieces. He was locking up. What are you going to do with it?”
“My job. I’m going to put it in a cargo hold.”
“You can’t tell me that’s on a manifest.”
“Didn’t say that.” He broke the bar in half and offered her the side he hadn't bit into.
She pushed it away. If that was his whole lunch, she wasn't taking any of it. She took enough from him. “You know where that’s going. Or who it’s going to.”
He laid the half-bar on his knee. “Of course I do.” He looked out over the sea as if he could spot the spaceport on the other side, the ship that would fly away with this package, the Rebel fleet that was waiting for it.
“And you’re still - ?”
“Fighting,” he said. “Like Maarva said in her eulogy.” He grimaced. “You didn’t hear that. She - “
“I heard it,” she said quietly. “From the - from the hotel window. Before - Cassian came.”
He stared down at her. She turned her head and looked out at the sea.
It was the closest they'd ever come to talking about . . . what happened.
There's a wound at the center of the galaxy, Maarva had said, and there was a wound at the center of Bix Caleen. Whenever it threatened to devour her whole, she would recite Maarva's words to herself: I want you to go on.
"Bixy," Brasso said softly, and she looked back at him involuntarily. "You shouldn't've done it. This package."
"Why not?" she said, abruptly annoyed. "Why shouldn't I fight as well?"
He lowered his voice. "You're a wanted woman! Fugitive from Imperial custody, remember?"
"Hard to forget. But what about you? Inciting a riot? Can't imagine the Empire's pleased with that, either."
"I didn't incite," he said.
"You smashed an Imperial in the head with Maarva's funeral brick."
He cracked a grin at that. "S'what she would've wanted."
She found herself smiling too. "Wasn't it just." But she poked him in the arm. "What did you think would happen? They'd shrug and say 'boys will be boys'?"
"I'm fine. None of the patrols pay me any mind. I'm just a big dumb dock worker running an errand. Nothing for them to see."
"You're not dumb," she said. "Don't say that. How did you get pulled in, anyway?"
He shrugged. "About a month ago, deckhand broke his leg on the passage. I was going into town anyway, over my lunch break. He asked me to pick something up for him. Told me the alley, next to the secondhand shop, marked like this one." He gestured at her bag. "Just pick it up and walk away. I did it. Next week, another deckhand on a completely different ship asked me the same thing."
"You knew what it was from the start?"
"I'm not dumb," he said.
“That's a long walk," she said. "Must take the whole time you have for lunch."
He shrugged. “Usually does.”
“Every day?”
“Nah. He puts a flag on the main road. I see it when I'm walking to work. I call from the public comms when I've picked it up."
"Someone's going to notice," she said.
"People see me," he said. "Hard to miss me. But they don't notice me."
It stung. "They should."
He shook his head.
"They should," she repeated, more forcefully. "And someone will. A dock worker running into town all the time? Tell me the other lads do it. Go on."
He twisted his mouth. "They all know I've got - " He glanced at her. "Obligations."
Obligations. He meant her.
She swallowed the bitterness in her mouth. It was only the truth, after all. "Here's what we're going to do, Brass."
"We?"
"I'm going to start bringing you your lunch."
"I can bring my lunch."
She rolled her eyes to the heavens. The sea birds screeched with laughter. "Lunch is not the point. Look, the doctor said it, right? I need to get exercise. Get out in the fresh air." Her thighs twinged a reminder of the walk she'd taken, and the walk she had ahead of her. "So I'll bring you your lunch every day."
He opened his mouth.
"And if some days, I happen to swing by that secondhand store and happen to pick up a package, well, that's just something that'll happen."
"I don't know."
"You get to have your whole lunch hour to yourself, I get a walk, and nobody notices you running errand after errand into town."
"And you?"
"What about me? That crazy Bix girl getting some fresh air every day. Good for her. Nobody'll notice after the first few days." She nodded. "It makes perfect sense. We'll start tomorrow."
He held up his hands. "All right. I'm beat." He smiled at her. "It's good to see you like this, Bix."
"Upright? Sober?"
"With a spark in your eyes again." He reached out and gently tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
Her chest felt like he'd clamped that big hand around it, tenderly crushing all the air out, forcing her heart into her throat. It thumped, thumped, thumped while she looked up into his dark eyes.
She'd known him since she was born, a sturdy background figure a whole life stage ahead of her, maybe two. But Cassian had pulled them together - Bix madly in love with him, Brasso looking after him like a little brother - and even when that passionate teenage relationship had fallen to pieces, the one with Brasso had held strong. She would see him around Ferrix town and feel a surge of pure fondness - ah, there he is, our Brasso.
People see me but they don't notice me, he'd said, and she hadn't noticed him. Not really. Not for years.
Well, she was noticing now.
He dropped his hand and cleared his throat, looking away. Probably afraid she'd try to kiss him again. Not after he'd made his disinterest so thunderously clear. "What'll happen," he said, eyes fixed on the horizon, "if you have a bad day?"
She bit her lip. But it was true. Good days were becoming less rare, but bad days still happened. "If the flag's out and I'm not here by the lunch bell, go into town like you used to."
"I'll say it's to check up on you."
"Don't really check up on me. The walk's too long."
"Mmm," he said, a vague noise that might have been taken for agreement if she didn't know better.
The bell from earlier clanged loudly over the water again, and up on the dock, all the workers started getting to their feet.
"It's over already?" she said. "That's all you get?"
"Two minute warning," he said indistinctly, shoving the remainder of the protein bar into his mouth. "Short today." He waved a hand at all the ships waiting and chewed ferociously.
She picked up the wrapper and put it in her pocket. "Listen," she said. "How much are they paying you for this - errand?"
He held up a finger, chewed a few more times, swallowed, and shook his head. "I wouldn't ask for paying."
"Brass!" She clutched her head. "You can't do this for free."
He opened his mouth and she shook her finger at him. "I've seen your paystub. That house is expensive. Food, heat, clothes, those are all expensive. My mood tabs are really expensive. And we both know - “ She stopped and swallowed. “We know I'm in no shape to hold down any kind of job."
His eyes went sad, but he nodded slowly.
"So, we charge. Believe me, that clerk is getting his." She rubbed her fingers together. "He's gotten free deliveries off you for a month now, but that ends. I'm getting twenty today, but that was an emergency. I think I can make it ten per delivery, maybe fifteen, I don't know. See how much I scare him."
A smile crept over his face, just as she'd hoped. "You're a shark, Bix Caleen."
Because her heart had thumped again, she wrapped her scarf tightly around her ears. "I bet you say that to all the girls."
He offered her his arm so they could pick their way back up the rocks. "Only you."
FINIS
#Bix Caleen#Brasso#Brixo#I like that for a ship name#mosylufanfic lives up to her damn name#NaNo stories#PTSD#depression#she's doing better this time around!#really!#andor#star wars
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Thanks for the advice I’ll try it
Ich wünschte, sie würde aufhören, ein bisschen beschissen zu sein, und aus meinem Haus verschwinden
-Jacqueline
Wir sehen uns, Jackie~
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Happy Moment
One of my students sent me feedback on my Quick Guide to Russian Verbal Prefixes. It made me so happy that I decided to share it with you:
" I've been reading your wonderful guide. It is SO clear, informative, explanative, I love it!! I love it that you've put them in alphabetical order. And I love your descriptions of how these prefixes work, operate, in a kind of physical or emotional way!
And I like how you keep it short, devoting two sparse pages to each group - I think you could go on and on, but keeping it short keeps the needle moving so to speak."
Very few things are as rewarding as receiving good feedback from happy students :)
Here is where you can buy your copy of the Guide.
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