#hawaiian coffee company

[socialbrewcoffee]

Beyond Hype: A Guide to Buying Single-Origin Kona Coffee Worth Every Sip

Ah, Kona coffee. Its name rolls off the tongue like a wave washing over sun-kissed volcanic shores, promising a taste of tropical paradise in every cup. But navigating the world of single-origin Kona coffee beans can be tricky, with inflated prices and misleading labels lurking around every corner. Fear not, intrepid coffee adventurer! This guide will equip you with the knowledge to discern between the ordinary and the extraordinary, ensuring you experience the true magic of pure Kona coffee, sourced directly from Hawaii.

Find Pure Kona Coffee -

100% Kona Coffee: This is the non-negotiable.

Single-Origin: Embrace the unique terroir of specific Kona districts. Each, like Ka'u, Kona Gold, or South Kona, whispers its own flavor story in your cup.

Fresh is Best: Choose freshly roasted beans for peak flavor. Ideally, roasted within the past two weeks. Remember, Kona coffee beans reach their full potential when treated with freshness.

Beyond the Label: Quality Indicators Matter

Small-Batch Roasters: These roasters obsess over quality, sourcing directly from trusted Kona farms and meticulously roasting in small batches.

Transparency Reigns: Look for roasters who openly share their relationships with Kona farmers and their commitment to ethical practices. Sustainability and fair trade should be woven into their story.

Sustainable Soul: Choose roasters who prioritize practices that benefit the land and local communities. Every sip of pure Kona coffee should celebrate aloha spirit.

Unlocking the Flavor: Brewing Paradise in Your Kitchen

Grind Fresh: Unleash the hidden layers of flavor with a burr grinder and grind just before brewing. Freshness is key!

Filtered Water: Ditch the tap and opt for filtered or spring water. Your Kona coffee beans deserve the best.

The Golden Ratio: Aim for a 1:16 coffee-to-water ratio, but feel free to adjust based on your preferred strength. Experimentation is part of the joy!

Slow and Steady Wins the Race: Pour-over methods or French press brewing let the Kona coffee beans truly unfold their story. Avoid over-extraction and embrace the nuanced notes.

The Kona Difference: Worth Every Sip

Single-origin Kona coffee is more than just caffeine; it's an experience. It's the taste of sunshine, the whisper of volcanic winds, and the aloha spirit embodied in every smooth, velvety sip. By choosing pure Kona coffee beans, you're supporting sustainable practices, preserving a legacy of quality, and investing in a cup filled with paradise.

Ready to Dive into Kona Paradise?

Social Brew believes in bringing you the finest single-origin Kona coffee, sourced directly from trusted Hawaiian farms. We prioritize fresh roasting, ethical sourcing, and sustainable practices, ensuring every cup holds the essence of aloha. 

Visit us today and explore our curated selection of gourmet coffee, ready to awaken your taste buds and transport you to Hawaii with every sip. Order now!

[bradshawsbitch]

𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲, 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞

pairing: nick goose bradshaw x reader

nick has been away from home for a while, and receives a very warm welcome home from you.

warnings; smut 18+ only, afab!reader, dry sex, cum play, silly goose (i love him), tit worship

word count; 1.8K

disclaimer; I heard the sentence 'I'd be happy to find a girl and talk dirty to her' and went (absolutely feral) with it!

tagging for funsies; @fandomxpreferences @jupitercomet @roosterforme @roleycoleyreccenter

Soft, warm sunlight flitted in through opened windows. The rustic kitchen was bathed in an orange glow, as you moved across wooden floors. The long day had finally started to fade to evening, and the cooler air felt welcome on your skin.

It had been an unusually hot day, and your body was only covered by a plain black, ribbed leotard. You knew it was your boyfriend's favorite, in part because ‘it shows off the girls, honey!’ and in part because ‘your hips and thighs in those high cuts makes a man want to do sinful things’. Goose’s words, verbatim.  

Sighing sadly, the longing seemed to be reverberating deep within your bones. Nick had only been away for a couple of days for some stint with Mav, but God you missed him already. You knew he wouldn’t have access to a phone, and he’d been unsure of when he’d been able to come home to you.

So you spent the days trying to keep occupied, helping the sweet old lady next door with her gardening and keeping her company for a cup of coffee as she told you scandalously about the other old woman down the street. Her son had been caught for tax fraud, apparently. 

After assuring her Nick paid all his taxes, and promising to spread the gossip along to your boyfriend (he had unfortunately become old Mrs. Baxter’s favorite gossip partner after he had whole-heartedly engaged in a 30 minute conversation, being just the right amount of outraged, according to Mrs. Baxter), you had headed home with a smile on your face. Which was how you found yourself getting some chores done, washing up the dishes you’d left since yesterday, de-cluttering and vacuuming (which was when you rid yourself of your jean shorts).

A glass of water in hand, you heaved a deep sigh as you glanced through the open window, the curtains fluttering slightly with the breeze. Distantly, you could hear a car approaching, not thinking much of it until you heard it come to a stop, and the distinct sound of a door slamming shut. You barely had time to put your glass down before you heard Nick’s tell-tale happy-noise, something that had bewildered you at first, but now only warmed your heart and put a big grin on your face.

“Goose!” you’d run towards the front door, and sure enough, the vision of your tall, hawaiian shirt clad man stood before you.

“Aw, fuck, honey!” Nick’s beautiful brown eyes looked almost pained as they roamed over your body. “You know what this does to a man,” a giggle fell from your lips as Goose unceremoniously dropped his duffle bag to his feet before moving over to you - that small mischievous smirk you loved so much adorning his lips. His knuckles trailed down your bare arm as you tilted your head up to look at him.

“Mm, what does it do, Nicky?” another weakness of his. He’d told you in his sternest voice that this weakness was strictly classified Honey knowledge only. A soft groan left Goose at your soft tone, eyes playful as you leaned into his touch.

“Honeyy,” there was definitely a whine in there somewhere “it drives a man insane!” he grinned as he drew another soft giggle from you, the hand that was not trailing up and down your arm now coming to grab at your waist, large palm splayed over the fabric. Leaning up, you couldn’t resist claiming his lips with yours, having longed to feel them pressed against yours for too long. 

“Missed you, Nicky,” your breathless whine had Goose tightening his hold on you, arms winding around your midsection to keep you pressed to his chest as his lips strayed from your lips to your jawline, leaving a trail down to your clavicle. 

“Hi, girls,” the relieved tone as Nick palmed at your tits had you balking before you swiftly landed a soft slap to his shoulder “Goose!” he chuckled but didn’t stop his ministrations, kneading the soft flesh and sporadically pinching your nipples through the thin fabric. Letting your head tip back, a soft moan flew past parted lips.

“I could tell they missed me, honey… had to check up on ‘em,” Nick murmured teasingly against your neck. For a moment, you thought a scoff might make its appearance from you, but Goose chose that moment to latch on to the soft and sensitive flesh below your ear, right as he rolled your nipple between skilled fingers - which turned the scoff into a loud and needy moan instead. 

“Atta honey.. so good for me,” hushed voice, husky in your ear had your eyelids fluttering shut as Goose started leading you towards the sofa. He stalled for a moment, letting brown eyes search yours, a thoughtful look upon his features before he decided “Honey, I’m gonna disconnect the phone.” laughter rang out in the glowing red light of your living room, and Goose smirked as he made his way towards your phone. 

 The swiftness with which your boyfriend lost his jeans and button-up on his way back to you was astounding, only leaving your touch for a moment or two before his arms embraced you again. Turning the two of you, he nudged a knee in between your thighs to spread them before he sat down, bringing you with him to straddle his lap.

Goose was now only clad in a loose fitting pair of boxers, which you noticed were already tenting. As he slowly grabbed your hips and fully lowered you onto his lap, you gasped softly at the feel of his hard length against your core - arousal flooding your very being from the way he held you. Rolling your hips experimentally resulted in a low groan from your boyfriend, his fingers tightening their hold on you.

Labored and shallow breathing echoed through the otherwise silent house, Goose’s hands now guiding and grinding you down on his now rock hard cock. Your hands gripped at broad shoulders, forehead falling down to rest against Nicks, lips chasing his as they met in an open mouthed frenzy.

“Nicky!” you whimpered out as the head of his cock strained against his boxers, hard against the opening of your clothed core, where he ground hard trying to seek the pleasure of your welcoming heat.

“S’okay honey, Nicky’s got you babe, I’m here,” his voice was strained from the way your cunt tried in vain to clench around him, his tip just reaching deep enough to feel your attempts at getting him deeper despite the barrier of your clothes. Bringing his arms around your back, he guided your head to his shoulder, his lips pressing into your hot skin as his palm splayed over your lower back and ass. Rutting up into you, he pressed you down at the same time as his grip on your hip guided you against his length. 

“Feel so fuckin’ good, darlin’” his moan caressed your skin, the thickness of his length now adding delicious pressure to your clit. Glancing between your bodies, you saw the bulge of his tip in his boxers, and the wet patch that had spread across it. A loud, needy moan fell from you, and you were grasping at Goose’s neck now, desperately needing to feel him closer.

“Need you, Goose– please, need you,” whimpering, you ground more desperately into him now, hips rolling down hard to feel more of him. 

“Shh, honey, we ain’t in a rush,” strong hands stilled your hips, gently detaching you from where you sat leaned on his chest. Soft lips pressed against yours, and you needily tried to deepen it, nipping at his lower lip, desperate to feel his tongue on you. 

“Baby…” his tone was warning, but his touch soft as he splayed one hand on your sternum, the other guiding your arms away from his neck. He guided your hands so they were grasping behind you at his knees, his palm pressing your chest away from him. 

“Fuck, honey…” Goose groaned low in his throat, the sound emitting a whimper from you, brows knitted together as you hesitantly tried canting your hips in your new position. “That’s it honey, fuck yourself on my cock, needy little thing,” you knew Nick liked talking dirty, but this had your mouth falling open, head falling backwards as you kept your pace - again and again dragging your cunt along Goose’s length. 

Reaching down, Nick grabbed at his clothed cock, guiding it to put pressure on your clit before slipping it towards your entrance, bucking slightly as he found it. The knuckle of his thumb dragged against your clit as he rubbed his straining head as far as it could go into you, desperate and high pitched moans leaving you as he started moving his thumb slightly. 

“Please, Nicky!” Goose only groaned, using his forefinger to slip the wet material of your body to the side, fucking his cock just a little deeper into your sensitive hole. Brown eyes had been transfixed on your cunt, but now roamed your body on display for him, landing on your heaving chest, eliciting another deep moan from your lover. 

Reaching up, he swiftly yanked the straps down to free your breasts, hands and mouth latching on to them as you continued rocking against him. Warm tongue and rough mustache created an overwhelming sensation as Nick suckled at your nipple, palming roughly at your other breast. 

“O-oh, Nick - I’m–” your orgasm built fast, and had snuck up on you as Goose loved your body. 

“Give it to me, baby, let me have it,” Goose grunted against your tits, and it was all the encouragement you needed as you cried out, hips rutting faster to get you there. 

“Oh, I’m gonna cum so hard on your cock, Nicky” you knew your boyfriend liked it when you talked dirty back to him, and the moan he released at your words was enough to send you hurtling over the edge, a blinding orgasm having you mindlessly moaning, thighs quivering on either side of your boyfriends’, only vaguely aware of Nick’s hands palming hard at your tits. 

Harsh breaths and grunts met your ears as you came down slightly from your high, and looking down between your bodies, Nick’s straining cock appeared and disappeared between your folds as Goose fucked into you. Moaning softly at the sight, you let your hands leave their place to tangle into the short hair at the nape of your boyfriend's neck as you whimpered “Coat me with your cum, Goose,”. Whilst you weren’t as well versed in dirty talk as your boyfriend it seemed to work as Goose came hard with a long moan, his white spend spreading and leaking out of his boxers and on to your swollen clit. 

 Lazily, he rutted his hips, spreading his cum over your pussy, drawing soft moans from you as his lips found yours in soft kisses. Chests heaving, you let your fingers card through his blonde hair, as warmth filled your chest.

“Welcome home, stud,” Goose smiled against your lips as he held you close to his chest again. 

“And what a welcome it was, honey!”

[peonierose]

Luna Valeria Auclair (OC)

A/N: I wanted to re-introduce my OC Luna. I’ve been thinking long and hard and just wanted to share some more things about my OC. I decided I will not be using a fc for the foreseeable future 🥰

I also included more info on Luna’s family and her triplet cousins as well 🥰🩷

You can also find all my stories on my Masterlist

Full name: Luna Valeria Auclair

Nicknames: Lunes & Lu by Bryce Lahela (OH), Moonbeam (by her grandpa and her dad), Loonsey & Loon-Moon (by her mom & grandma), Sugarplum (by her best friend Maxine), Looney (By her cousins)

Love Interest: Bryce Lahela (Open Heart)

Sexual Orientation: Straight

Birthday: June, 27th

Zodiac Sign: Cancer ♋️

Nationality: American

Born: Honolulu, Hawaii 🌺

Face Claim: none for now

Hair: dark blonde, long and wavy

Height: 5‘0 feet tall

Eyes: Blue-green with a slight aquamarine tint

Education: Luna got her Bachelor of Fine Arts at the University of Hawaii. She specialized in ceramics, drawing painting + sculpture.

She teaches art at the University of Hawaii.

(Though Luna would love to have her own art gallery in Honolulu, Hawaii).

Family: Luna is an only child (for now, though that might change soon).

Luna’s parents:

Grace Amanda Auclair, Luna’s mom is an English teacher at McKinley High (Luna’s old Highschool).

Brian James Auclair, Lunas mom and dad are both from the Chicago area. Brian worked in finance at his father’s company. He comes from a wealthy family- his parents are from new money. They were very strict, and technically he didn't need to work at his fathers company, but he didn't want to be like all the other rich people who lived of off their trust fund. He wanted to earn his money.

The day he met Grace, they were both on their lunch break. Grace spilled her coffee on Brian's shirt and felt so embarrassed. She wanted to pay for dry cleaning, but Brian wouldn't hear it. Later on they kept talking for what seemed like hours. They promised to see each other again on the next day. They met every day for coffee until Brian had the courage to ask her out. They dated for a while before they became official.

Sadly Brian's parents didn't approve of his love with Grace, and they made him choose. Grace wanted to break things off. She didn't want to be the cause of a rift between his parents. But Brian chose Grace and that's the last day he spoke to his parents. They disowned him afterwards.

With some savings they both decided they wanted to make a fresh start. Grace quit her job as an English teacher and Brian quit his job in finance. They packed their belongings and moved to Honolulu, Hawaii. Where Brian opened up his flower shop called »Orchid's Paradise«. He always had a knack for flowers.

They got married and he took his wife’s name (Auclair). He hasn’t spoken to his parents ever since. Though he has a beautiful family now and he couldn’t care less.

Luna‘s aunt, uncle and her triplet cousins:

Joanne Dahlia Auclair (her aunt; maternal side)

Joseph Alexander Auclair (her uncle; maternal side)

Skyler Tristan Auclair (Luna‘s cousin; maternal side)

Soraya Emilia Auclair (Luna‘s cousin; maternal side)

Evangeline Rose Auclair (Luna‘s cousin; maternal side)

Luna‘s cousins have their own wedding planning business called »Sunset Moments«

Luna‘s grandparents:

Angelina Lilly Auclair (Luna’s grandma; maternal side - they share the same birthday - June 27th).

Grayson Oleander Auclair (Luna‘s grandpa; maternal side - a former defense attorney, now retired).

Auclair Family Tree

Auclair Triplets (Luna‘s cousins)

Likes:

- mangos

- cherries

- herb sauce for her fries

- guava

- Haupia (Hawaiian dessert)

- mangas (Bryce loves comics) she would love to do a collab of a manga that features Hawaii

- Luna loves to take old furniture and make it into something new / or restore it to its former glory

- peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with banana slices (Just like Elvis Presley)

Dislikes:

- toxic people

- negative energy

- dishonesty

- liars

- the word »glib« whatever that means

Personality: bubbly and sunshiny. Very open, honest, loyal, generous, a true sweetheart. Though hurt the people she loves? And you should better run.

Friends: She has her best friend Maxine Moore, who’s a tattoo artist based in Honolulu, Hawaii 🩷

Adam Sinclair who she went to school with. They went on one date but found out they’re better off as friends.

Amber Merchant - a popular photographer who took this photo of Luna 🥰

Luna‘s favorite Hawaiian proverbs:

Kahuna Nui Hale Kealohalani Makua – “Love all you see, including yourself.”

Aloha Aku No, Aloha Mai No – (I give my love to you, you give your love to me.)

Ua ola no i ka pane a ke aloha – (There is life in a kindly reply.)

‘A’OHE PU’U KI’EKI’E KE HO’A’O ‘IA E PI’I – (No cliff is so tall it cannot be climbed.)

12 things about Luna:

🌺 plays the ukulele

🌺 her hair was as pale as moonlight and that’s how she got the name Luna

🌺 She got her nickname ”Looney“ from watching Looney Tunes as a kid

🌺 dances Hula

🌺 peonies & lilacs are among her favorite flowers

🌺 she was once stung by a jellyfish and got a tiny star shaped scar from it

🌺 allergic to ginger

🌺 thinks grasshoppers are creepy (though spiders are cute)

🌺 played soccer in grade school and in high school she switched to volleyball and tennis

🌺 was on the cheer squad together with her cousin Soraya (who was the cheer captain)

🌺 Had a belly button piercing but it got infected so she had to remove it.

🌺 Luna struggles with anxiety and can't handle large crowds. She's had help from her family, but also from her therapist. She goes there from time to time. Not as often as she did before she met Bryce. Art is like therapy for her. That's why she likes to paint or create to help her relax. Because some days are harder than others. She quit her job in Boston, because she was bullied by her boss. She didn't feel good to work in a toxic work environment like that. Bryce wasn't really happy in Boston either. They both missed home, so they moved back to Honolulu, Hawaii and Keiki went with them. (I explored that in my story By a Landslide)

[theastrophysicistnextdoor]

Good Omens S2 – hunting clues: the person with the Hawaiian shirt

While looking for other clues, I recognized a person in episodes 1 and 6. I have now also seen them in ep 3. The person wears a black shirt with large red and yellow flowers on it – seriously... – and can be seen right behind Gabriel in the street:

Passing by in episode 3 when Shax is in Soho:

In episode 6 the person waits in line behind the Metatron in front of the coffee shop and continues:

Finally, the person is sitting in front of the coffee shop when Crowley (or Aziraphale...) gets in the Bentley to drive off in the final scene:

Interestingly enough the company changes: From person with yellow coat to person with red skirt, tartan shirt and light-blue hairband.

Do we know them? Has anybody seen these people anywhere else in the season?

@embracing-the-ineffable @ineffable-detective-agency

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

ari i’m curious do u have kenny hcs

RIKO U HAVE NO IDEA THE MONSTER UVE UNLEASHED.....

i do have some kenny hcs <333 take a seat here's a snack we’re gonna be here for a while 🧁🧃 (THANK YOU FOR INDULGING ME <3 this man genuinely makes me feel ill im sooo delusional abt him)

okok so first of all; general hcs !!

he likes art!! loves art!! this one is canon to me i just think he is so interested in any and all of humanity’s creative outlets and ofc art is the most prominent one. he loves all different forms of art — from sculptures to paintings to writing to video games (HEAVY on the latter btw i think he's so entranced by new technology) and so on.

and on that note!! i think he paints and writes himself :3 hes been alive for so long, learned so many languages, there's no way he didn't have time to pick up a paint brush. i think he paints to release stress!! and his styles vary but there's something mildly macabre abt all of his pieces. tends to gravitate towards expressionism above all else, especially the abstract kind.

i also feel like he sincerely enjoys ”bad” art like low budget movies and modern romance fiction and goofy video games…… he just thinks they're fun. def gets a good laugh out of them (this man canonically had a whole comedy phase he just wants to have fun!!)

and and and!! this is self indulgent as hell but i also think he cooks. there's just so much to learn when it comes to different cultures and their cuisine and i think they all interest him. but i hesitate to say that he's a good cook bc i feel like he’d make really weird fucked up food combinations just for the hell of it…. he's a freak. 100% the type to mix orange juice w black coffee just to see how it tastes.

i also hc that he has a soft spot for children, seeing as he literally carried and birthed one of his own LMAO... i just think he admires the innocence of childhood !! that childish and simple hope that adults tend to lose. he's very good w them too!! gentle and patient. and in geto’s body he has the softest nicest voice so i feel like kids gravitate towards him (i'm just thinking abt that One scene where he blows bubbles at a playground and all the kids chase them… they love him i just know he's a regular at that park)

OH AND……. idk if i’d call this a hc exactly but i just wanna see kenny in more feminine clothing. he literally has All the genders i don't think for a second that he cares abt gender norms. one moment he's in that tacky middle aged divorced father core hawaiian tshirt (he's so Me), the next he's wearing a purple floral dress or a puffy turtleneck <33 i just think he could pull anything off.

NOW FOR THE GOOD STUFF……. relationship hcs <33333 hes a whole red flag but hes also my silly pookie bear just trust me on this

FIRST OF ALL he's huge on quality time. if he's in a relationship w u then that means he sincerely enjoys ur company and therefore has a tendency to just bring u with him wherever he goes. otherwise he gets bored and starts whining abt it (silly silly man) hes a lonely guy ok </3 i feel like he gets very sudden urges to explore new places / do new things and he’ll make sure you’re right there w him !! you’ll wake up in his arms only to find you're in a snowy forest or some shit and he just WILL not tell u where he's taken u bc its ”a surprise ^_^” LMAOO

he also takes on a teaching role in the relationship and i think that's where hes happiest !! gets a kick out of it but it's also kind of special to him. especially if you haven't seen much of the world, or if you're just a naturally curious person — preferably both. he just enjoys teaching you new things, leading you towards new sights, drinking in your expressions and reactions. it's precious to him. something to cherish.

ON THAT NOTE i think he has this unquenchable curiosity that gets temporarily sated when he tries to like . Dissect you. see inside your mind. it's like hes solving a puzzle that never runs out of pieces. hear me out riko but i see him as somewhat similar to makima, he's detached and has trouble connecting w people and handles you almost like a math equation….. but since he unlike makima is a human being, i think he still has the capacity to grow to care for you and treat you like an equal (or something close to an equal). he genuinely does love you, but he's rusty. kenjaku just wants to know all there is to know about you — every single thing. he’d dig into your brain if he could, but he’ll settle on just brewing you tea, listening to you speak about your fears, hoping it’ll give him the same insight.

he's a little possessive . kind of a Lot. idk i just think he feels a pang of jealousy when he sees u laugh and have fun w someone else (he's like a preschooler getting pouty bc his bestie is playing w someone else LOL) and that makes him Uncomfortable so he just waltzes in and steals u away w a smooth smile and a hand on ur waist. pretends like it doesn't bother him in the slightest but if u tease him too much he drops the smile and gives u a Look (it's scary as hell so u immediately shut up LMAOO) and god forbid someone else is like… teaching u something… a subject they're knowledgeable abt while u sit there listening happily to their rambling……..... ohhh he gets so jealous it's funny. researches that particular subject in frightening detail JUST so he can correct your little friend and teach u abt it himself <33 weirdo. freak.

also (this is extremely important to understanding kenny's character) he's both mother coded and father coded but in the worst possible ways.

he's mother coded in the sense that he's a smidge controlling, good at coaxing you into doing things outside your comfort zone, an expert at making you feel guilty by acting especially sweet and gentle, has the ability to make you cry w one disappointed look etc etc

and he's father coded in the sense that he's easily offended but pretends not to be, wants to see you succeed so bad that it's almost more for him than you, forces you to have really deep onesided philosophical talks at 2am when you just want to sleep, sucks at voicing his love for you out loud so he just buys a bag of your favorite fruit, cuts them into slices and calls it a day. etc etc. he's awful actually. i need him

but !!! as for more soft hcs i think he's honestly an affectionate guy deep down… like deep deep down but it's there. he just likes having u close. preferably touching him. not constantly bc that’ll annoy him but he wants you to stay near so he can pull u into his lap whenever. loves reading to u while u rest ur head on his thigh, playing w ur hair and lulling u softly to sleep <3333 (it's the geto kinnie in him) AND idk why this came into my mind but i think he likes nose kisses. just bc ur face scrunches up and he thinks it's cute. he can be sweet !! probably.

OHHH AND he loves playing board games w u <33 everything from chess to monopoly. he thinks it's fun + a good bonding activity but it's only fun in the beginning. he's condescending if u lose and petty if u win but he’ll still ask u to stay up w him all night just so u can finish the game (he's insufferable actually) if u decline he’ll huff and play by himself while shooting u petty glares until u feel bad and join him. then he's back to being all suave and calm and mature ohhhh i hate him

he wants to be the mature stoic indulgent person in the relationship sooooo fucking bad but he’s plagued by silly impulses day and night. he’s just good at hiding it. but deep down he is and always will be a silly nerd <33

and finally; i think that in a no curses au he's significantly less of a freak but still weird and obsessive and a lil mean. bullies u just a tinyyy bit and acts condescendingly sweet but he cares for u a whole bunch. probably struggles w showing it in a way that isn't too overbearing or mildly alarming… maybe through writing. poems and paintings of u… sculptures…. just wants to portray the beauty he sees in u (can u tell artist!kenny makes me go a little crazy)

overall hes a weirdo hes a freak (def wants u to kiss his brain just to see how it feels) and he may or may not be a bundle of red flags but i love him dearly <333 hes a silly goose. i want to study him in a lab

[respectthepetty]

With My Dear Bro Day Four & Five

Love Tractor's leads got sent to El Nido in the Philippines by the production company and recorded it for With My Dear Bro. I got nothing but time, so I'm binging it and writing it up in three posts: One, Two, Three.

Do Won is holding onto a can of Raid like his life depends on it spraying the entire bedroom, so Yoon Do Jin decides to film him, but Do Won tries to hide in the bathroom, then asks for Yoon Do Jin's help picking out sunglasses. This is carryover from Day Two & Three because Yoon Do Jin notices that Do Won, a shy guy, hides behind his glasses.

Yoon Do Jin is giving compliments ("You look good") and compliments.

Then, he strategically plans for them to stumble upon a seafood restaurant even though he already looked it up because Do Won just casually mentioned that he wants seafood! This man is dangerous!

While at the restaurant (that Do Won is very excited about and Yoon Do Jin is very pleased with himself over), they discuss buying each other clothes and forcing the other to wear them. Do Won has stipulations. He wants a cool-colored Hawaiian shirt and flip-flops. Yoon Do Jin says he trusts Do Won to pick out what is best for him. But they get sidetracked because Yoon Do Jin wants to feed a dog. Do Won says no. So Yoon Do Jin feeds Do Won instead.

Do Won takes intricate photos of his food and Yoon Do Jin loves it.

Whoever said to send them on this trip deserves a raise! Do Won keeps asking if Yoon Do Jin likes the food as he keeps giving Yoon Do Jin food on his plate, but Do Won comments that "the forehead doesn't lie" so he stares at Yoon Do Jin's head because he thinks Yoon Do Jin doesn't actually like it.

They split up to do their competition shopping, but IMMEDIATELY Do Won gets anxious being alone and people watching him. He is the dog drinking coffee in the burning building. SOMEONE ADOPT HIM!

But Everyone's Best Friend Yoon Do Jin is thriving! He is waving at todo el mundo, singing songs in the street, and haggling which seems to be his favorite activity.

SOMEONE ADOPT HIM NOW!

They meet back up but Do Won is late because *ANXIETY!* and Yoon Do Jin fakes a fight with him because Do Won, the entire trip, has been harping about sticking to the schedule and being on time. Yoon Do Jin, once again, questions if Do Won is a man who keeps his promises. It's ridiculous and makes Do Won smile.

They go back to the house, and Do Won is cooking chicken for Yoon Do Jin. Yoon Do Jin mentioned his weight management previously (he was apparently heavier), so the chicken is good for his diet. Yoon Do Jin is going out on the motorbike to buy the fruit that Do Won likes. Do Won tells him to be careful, and Yoon Do Jin tells him if he sees a bug to call him. Do Won is not amused.

Yoon Do Jin goes back to the same market that he got the free fruit and haggles some more because now they are all best friends and in love with him (the crew blew up the girl's head just so we could know it was HER who complimented him). Dangerous, this man is.

Yoon Do Jin returns looking like he robbed the place with eighty million bags but stands outside for a bit watching Do Won make the food until Do Won notices.

Yoon Do Jin says he doesn't normally like fried chicken, but he really likes Do Won's. Then, he says the pineapple is so good, he'll probably see it in his dreams. And that poster about being loved just casually hangs behind him.

Then they exchange the clothes they bought each other, and this shit is LOUD AS FUCK compared to Do Won's normal style.

Do Won gives Yoon Do Jin the slippers he wanted the first day, a cool colored shirt, and SUNGLASSES! Someone clearly won this competition, and it ain't Yoon Do Jin.

Loose threads: Do Won is always tripping over his own feet. They wore those Hawaiian shirts to bed. Yoon Do Jin always cuts off the light at night because it's so dark that Do Won is already in the bed. When looking for a shirt for Yoon Do Jin, Do Won had to keep telling everyone it was for his large man friend. AND frugal Do Won went over budget getting the gifts because he felt Yoon Do Jin deserved them, while Yoon Do Jin was worried that Do Won would be upset if he went over budget so he bought cheaper items.

Obsessed.

It's the final episode and Do Won is still attached to the can of Raid since his normal bug killer, Yoon Do Jin, is still asleep. Do Won tells Yoon Do Jin about it as he mists him later in the morning. It's their thing.

Do Won presents his gift to Yoon Do Jin, and by "presents", he actually slides it onto the counter as Yoon Do Jin's back is turned, then runs away, and puts on his sunglasses. Yoon Do Jin is De. Fucking. Lighted. as he recites the heartfelt message Do Won wrote on the back of the poster in his cockiest voice. Then, he asks Do Won if he is shy as he states he will get a frame for his poster. A DANGEROUS MAN!

They head out to the final destination before the leave back home. But it starts to rain and Yoon Do Jin, a dangerous man, drops this banger of a line after Do Won tells him that his tension goes up when it rains. Do Won looks directly at the cameraman, The Office style after Yoon Do Jin drops this line. Do Won is the only reason I think this is real because he looks like he is being Punk'd every single second of this interaction.

They finally are able to get on the ATV, but it takes a second for Yoon Do Jin to figure out how to go. However, he loses his cool when Do Won KEEPS MAKING ODD NOISES!

They switch drivers. They ride faster. Then, they play on the beach. Yoon Do Jin asks Do Won for a reflection on the day, and Do Won says "The beach . . . is nice" and I think that is the most he has said in one go! Yoon Do Jin also takes off his shirt because . . . DANGER!

They go back to the glamping spot which is a yurt with TWO beds, and Yoon Do Jin does this ridiculous crawl into the yurt so mosquitos don't get inside, and when Do Won tells him to put repellent on, Yoon Do Jin drops another doozy line saying the mosquitos will ignore him then and he doesn't like being ignored (he is firing shots at Do Won for ignoring him sometimes). He also states he doesn't like his shirt, so DO WON GIVES HIM ONE OF HIS, but Yoon Do Jin doubts it will fit. However, it does, because Do Won made sure to get a big enough size because he made it FOR him since he designs shirts. As usual, Shy Glasses has to look away after that confession.

So Yoon Do Jin gives Do Won a gift too. Lip balm? Because he notices soft lips Shy Glasses is always applying lip balm. WHERE IS THE BRACELET?!

IT'S HAPPENING! IT'S HAPPENING! Yoon Do Jin is going to give Do Won the bracelet, BUT . . .

DO WON REJECTS IT!

But Yoon Do Jin is a dangerous man and tells Do Won it's an "amulet" to ward off ghosts since Do Won said he saw a ghost earlier. The gift is accepted.

They go outside to eat by a nice blazing fire. They act like their roasting sticks are fishing poles, they light marshmallows on fire, and they eat like caveman, but a dangerous man takes it too far.

They have to go back in because it starts raining, and Yoon Do Jin makes a dad joke through poetry (he has been doing this the entire trip), and ends it with "it . . . was nice" because he must tease Do Won about his reflection earlier on the beach. Do Won responds that he wishes he hadn't let his anxiety get the best of him on the first couple of days and that he was more like Yoon Do Jin. Yoon Do Jin reveals that he always travels alone, yet felt really secure traveling with Yoon Do Jin.

Do Won asks where they should go next, and Yoon Do Jin, a dangerous man, jokes that Do Won just wants a second season with him, but then offers up his dream place because it's "more realistic" which gets an honest laugh out of Do Won.

Hand over heart, I WANT A SECOND SEASON!

I don't care if this was scripted or not. Shy Glasses and a Dangerous Man who is everyone's best friend deserve more of my attention.

Or all of it.

[performativezippers]

Given how many times Tennant has given Kate advice, I would love for Kate to give Tennant advice again (I know she gave advice after the Maggie situation, but that was so long ago). I would love to see her give Jane advice regarding how to be supportive or how to deal with someone you love choosing a dangerous path when you didn't expect it (or really anything but this is the only thing I could think of at this time).

“Damn it.” The knock on Kate’s office door couldn’t have come at a worse time. She’s neck deep in a series of spreadsheets, and if she loses her place it’ll be hard to get back into the zone. She’s comparing financial data across five shell companies, and she’s holding a lot of the information in her head as she scrolls. She has her door closed, which everyone in the hallway knows means “if you care at all for your life and limbs, you will not dare to disturb.”

Someone had better be fucking dying.

“Yes,” she snaps, not bothering to change her tone, to act less pissed. Serves whoever this is right. The door opens, and Kate doesn’t take her eyes off her computer, still scrolling. “What is it?”

“Bad time?”

Kate’s eyes snap up. What the—it’s Tennant. Tennant’s never come to her office before, all of their business happening at NCIS and all of their personal interactions happening off base or during sidewalk run-ins. Kate blinks, wondering what brings the SAC all the way over here.

A sudden burst of panic floods her, and she grips the edge of her desk, legs tensing in case she has to jump up and run. “Is Lucy okay?”

“She’s fine,” Tennant says quickly, holding up both hands. “Everyone’s fine.”

Kate blows out a huge breath. Okay, maybe she should work on not letting her anxiety cause her to overreact so much. Also maybe she should learn to grow wings and simply fly to and from work to combat climate change. Both seem equally likely.

“I was hoping to get some advice,” Tennant says, and Kate’s brain starts spinning a million miles an hour. What could Tennant possibly want her advice about? What on earth does Kate know more about than Tennant does? Maybe something legal? But Kate doesn’t practice and has no idea what Hawaiian laws are like. If it was something work related she’d have said “input” rather than advice. Tennant somehow knows as much about the DC political infighting as Kate does, despite not having been there for a baker’s dozen years. Kate’s pretty sure Tennant wouldn’t come to her for advice about Lucy—they’ve all come to respect the unspoken firewall.

What could Kate possibly have to offer Jane Tennant?

“Um, sure,” Kate says. “I mean, of course. I’m not sure I can…but, yeah. Yes. Anytime.”

Tennant gives her a little smile, like maybe she could read all of those thoughts on Kate’s face. “Can I buy you lunch?”

Kate nods, checking the time on her computer and seeing that it’s after one in the afternoon. Her stomach belatedly growls, and Tennant laughs. Kate saves her documents and grabs her purse, locking her computer and her office door, and following Tennant out of the building.

This is interesting. It’s going to be a long conversation, then, if they’re leaving work. It’s maybe more personal than professional, if Tennant wants to do it off base. She doesn’t have any of her team in tow, so it’s not something they’re all wondering about. She and Tennant have given each other coffees, but have never taken each other out for a meal before.

It doesn’t fit any pattern, and Kate’s curiosity is piqued. To say the least.

They walk out the front gate, and Tennant gestures towards the row of food trucks that tends to park there, hoping to tempt people like them out into the public sphere with the smells of roasting meat and engine exhaust. “I thought we could get something and take it somewhere quiet.”

So, something very personal, then.

Kate wonders if it’s about Maggie.

It must be.

“Sure,” she says, straightening her spine. She knows a little about what’s happened to Maggie since she left Oahu, but not much, and she’s not sure what she can share.

Tennant leads her towards a truck that makes what Lucy would call “hippie bowls,” and Kate mindlessly orders something with quinoa, brussels sprouts, sweet potatoes, and chickpeas doused in curry. Most of her brain is sorting intel on Maggie into mental folders, a technique she’d used constantly at DIA. It’s been a minute, but it comes back to her easily.

Absolutely can’t share; Fine to share; Risky but could be okay; Wouldn’t share with anyone but Tennant; Makes My Stomach Hurt But If Someone’s Life Is At Imminent Risk Then I Might. The old folders come back to life, and she shifts each tiny kernel of information into its proper location.

They get their food, and Kate follows Tennant into a park, where they settle on a sun-dappled bench underneath gently swaying palm trees.

“So,” Tennant says, and Kate tenses. There isn’t very much in the “Fine to share” folder, and Tennant is clearly looking for more than a tidbit. “How’s your food?”

Kate hasn’t taken a bite yet. “It’s good.”

Tennant raises an eyebrow, and Kate feels her mouth quirking up. Right. CIA agent. Noticing stuff is kind of her thing. Kate takes a bite, feeling Tennant’s amused smile on her. “Okay,” she says around a mouthful of hot chickpeas. “It’s actually good.”

“Glad,” Tennant says. “Mine too.”

Kate would scoff if that wouldn’t send quinoa straight down her windpipe. Tennant hasn’t touched hers yet either.

FIA agent. Getting better at noticing things.

“Alex decided where he wants to go to college,” Tennant says, and Kate nearly chokes.

“Oh,” she coughs. “Wow. That’s great.”

Is this a small-talk warm up, or was Kate totally off-target here? Is this about college advice? Maybe Alex is going to Northwestern? Maybe Tennant wants Kate to take him shopping for winter clothes to survive Chicago?

“He applied to the Naval Academy.”

Kate blinks a few more times. “What happened to baseball?”

Tennant shrugs. “I have no idea,” she says. “He’s not exactly an open book these days.”

Kate nods. She remembers how secretive she was as a teenager. Of course, she had strict, religious parents and she was secretly a raging lesbian who was pretty sure she was a democrat, but she figures some of it comes with the territory. Hormones, all that shit.

Reason one billion that Kate’s not interested in having kids. Putting in all that work for someone that, as soon as they can wipe their own butt, starts to resent you? Yeah, hard pass.

“He’s decided to go,” Tennant says, dropping her eyes, and Kate realizes this isn’t small talk. Tennant’s nervous, and Kate wonders why on earth she’s come to her instead of to Kai. Kai served; Kate didn’t. What advice could Kate have for the mom of—oh.

Oh.

Fuck.

Shit.

“This is about my brother,” Kate says softly, and Tennant nods, her eyes already soft and a little wet.

“I know you don’t like to talk about it,” Tennant says, fast but so soft. “So you can tell me to get lost if you want, but…”

Kate should. Talking about Noah is nearly impossible, even with Lucy. It hurts so much, and she cries every time, and she’s not that excited about the possibility of crying in front of Tennant. Although she does appreciate that Tennant brought her here, away from her coworkers and out of anyone else’s sightline. The only things that can see them are the trees, the coconuts, the blades of grass.

Kate wishes Lucy were here. She tries to pretend like she is, like she can feel Lucy’s hand coming—hard and warm—to grip her thigh. A gentle brush across her back, the little affirming sound Lucy makes in the back of her throat when Kate’s upset. Her hair would be blowing in the gentle wind, maybe a few strands getting stuck in her mouth, but she wouldn’t brush them away, completely and utterly focused on Kate’s comfort.

She pictures Lucy’s big eyes, so understanding and caring and loving, the way Lucy’s proximity always makes her feel safe.

“It’s okay,” she says, digging her fork into the food she’s no longer hungry for. “What do you want to know?”

“I—I don’t even know if I know, to be honest,” Jane says, her shoulders more slumped than usual. She doesn’t look like a SAC, or a CIA agent, or a certified badass. She looks like Kate’s mom did the first time Noah shipped off overseas.

Small. Afraid. Weary. Utterly and completely fucking terrified.

Kate thinks about what she would do if it were Lucy who was looking at her like that, and then she does it. Well, a modified version of it. She’s not about to pull Tennant onto her lap and kiss her head and whisper reassurance into her ear. But she would reach out to offer physical comfort, so she rests a hand on Jane’s arm while Jane struggles to find the words to describe her amorphous feelings.

“I’m proud of him,” Jane says. “Wanting to serve his country. He’s smart and strong and kind, I know they’re lucky to have him. And the navy tends to be pretty safe, and I imagine he’d move pretty quickly to a supervisory or analyst role, but…”

“But there’s no guarantee,” Kate says softly. Her brother was smart too, and strong, and kind, and he was torn apart in Taji before he got his promotion out of danger, before he could start his relatively cushy life of service without sacrifice.

“How did you live with the fear? Before?”

Kate purses her lips, trying to remember. Everything before feels like a dream, like she only woke up to the harsh real world the day the phone rang.

“I was young,” she finally offers. “I think…you never think it’ll happen to you, you know? It’s always someone else—someone else’s brother, someone else’s child. Every time I’d see something in the news, or hear about something happening in Iraq, it didn’t feel real. It was like seeing a car wreck on the freeway; you’re like, ‘oh that’s so sad, I hope they’re okay’ but it never feels like it has anything to do with you, even though you’re driving on the same highway. It was always like, ‘that couldn’t happen to him. He’ll be fine.’”

Jane almost laughs, even though Kate can tell she’s so sad. “So…denial?”

Kate does laugh. “Pretty much.”

Jane’s quiet for a long moment. “And then, after…”

Kate shrugs, flipping over a brussels sprout. “I don’t think there’s any point in preparing for after,” she says softly. “It’s worse than you could imagine. There’s no…there’s no preparation that will make it anything less than the worst day of your life. The…the end of the best thing in your life, the end of ever being like, fully happy.” She blinks quickly, her gaze down at her food. She swallows a few times.

It’s not that she thinks she’s fooling Jane, that Jane doesn’t know she’s fending off tears, but it’s still important to her to wrestle herself under control, and she appreciates that Jane lets her do it.

“If it happens, no amount of preparation will soften it,” she finally says. “Thinking about it, and talking about it with him, and worrying about it—all that’ll do is hurt your relationship with him, push him away.”

She bites her lip, and tries to ignore the thought that she’s the last person who should be giving parenting advice. Her own parents are kind of shit, and she’s the first to admit she’s not a great people person.

“If I have any advice for you, it would be to just…savor the time you have with him. Be there. Because odds are he’ll be fine, and then you’ll have great memories of these next few years, and if he’s not…” She swallows again, and this time it’s Jane who touches her arm. It’s not the same as if Lucy were here, if Lucy did it, but Kate lets herself pretend. She pretends Lucy’s plastered to her back, resting her head on the back of Kate’s neck, rubbing supportive circles up and down her spine, like after Kate has a nightmare. “I wish I’d spent more time with Noah before he went,” she says, her voice thick. “I was so distracted by my own stuff, by extra curriculars and getting into college, and then by school stuff. I wish I’d taken every opportunity to be with him. Called more, written more, visited him on base more. I wish I had more memories with him.”

She imagines Lucy pressing a loving, caring kiss to her shoulder, wordlessly telling Kate that she loves her, that regret is okay but guilt isn’t, that even though Kate wishes she had done things differently, she hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Daniel doesn’t want him to go,” Jane says. “I don’t know what I want. But I guess that doesn’t really matter.”

Kate shrugs, managing a hint of a wry smile. “Annoying how they grow up to be their own people, I guess.”

Jane laughs, and Kate politely pretends she didn’t hear how thick it was, that she hasn’t noticed Jane not eating.

It’s a quiet for a while, but Kate feels like Jane has another thing to ask. The wind rustles the palm fronds, and Kate watches as two little birds fight over what seems like a prime spot for seeds, about thirty feet in front of her.

“What about Julie?” Jane finally asks. “How do I…what do I tell Julie?”

Tears immediately come to Kate’s eyes, and she knows that no amount of blinking is going to hold them back this time.

“Tell her it’s okay to be scared,” she manages to say, her voice cracking. “Tell her she can love him and be mad at him at the same time. Tell her to call him more. Tell her he’s going to be fine.”

“I don’t want to lie to her,” Jane says, but Kate shakes her head.

“She’s old enough that she knows,” Kate says. “She knows what could happen, but she won’t believe it. She’ll be so scared all the time, but it’ll also be a car wreck on the highway. You can…you can let her have whatever comfort there is. Let her stay a kid.”

Jane nods, and Kate tries to work on her breathing, to control herself enough to say one last thing. The hardest thing, something she’d sob during even if she were telling Lucy, safe in the little warm bubble of their bed, the lights off, Lucy’s skin soft and loving against hers.

She’s crying as she says it, but she gets it out, and that’s what matters. “And if it does happen, if he doesn’t come home…just…please still love Julie.”

“I—” Jane seems to catch herself, like she was about to give a knee-jerk reaction and then stopped when the words were already halfway out of her mouth. “Why…I…”

Kate doesn’t have to be an FBI agent to know what she’s thinking. What the hell? Of course I would…how could I not? Why would I stop…? What would Julie have to do with…?

She can see the realization settling over Jane’s features. Jane’s eyes get even softer, and a tear finally breaks through and runs down her cheek. She reaches out like she wants to gather Kate into her, to cradle her like Kate is Julie, like she’s still the broken, lost twenty-year-old she was then.

Jane pulls her hands back into her lap, and Kate wonders what that would have been like, to be hugged like that. Lucy holds her, but that’s different. Lucy’s (thankfully) not trying to be her mom, not tempted to give Kate what her parents did.

Lucy tries to fill her up, to surround her with so much love that she can see clearly that her parents aren’t well, that they were irrevocably broken by Noah’s death. That it wasn’t anything Kate did wrong, or Kate could have done. Lucy loves Kate fiercely enough that Kate is starting to admit that maybe she’s worthy of being loved, that maybe there’s enough humanity left in her. That maybe Noah’s death is the worst thing that ever happened to her but doesn’t have to mean that she’s never happy again, that no one will ever love her again, that she can never unfasten the armor around her heart again.

Lucy doesn’t hug her because her mom doesn’t; Lucy hugs her and it makes Kate realize that she’s getting more and more okay, even without her mom.

Jane looks like she wants to hug her defiantly, like she wants to punch Kate’s parents in the face, to rock Kate to sleep and throw her a bridal shower and walk her down the aisle.

“I’m so sorry, Kate,” she says, and Kate nods. “You know, when I said you were family, I meant it. Anytime you—and Lucy—want a family Thanksgiving, or Christmas, or birthday, or even just dinner, I hope you know you don’t need an invitation. We’ll always want you with us.”

“Thank you,” Kate says, and she means it. She finally takes a few bites of her lunch; it’s cold, but it’s still good. She realizes she’s still hungry, and also she’s certainly due back at her office, but she doesn’t move to stand up. “And you, too. You know, when he’s at school, or on tour, and Julie’s with her dad, we’ll always have a glass of wine and a couch for you.”

Jane smiles at her, something that’s both a grimace and almost a laugh. “I’m sure I’ll be taking you up on that.”

Kate lets her mouth twitch up. “I hope you do.”

[xxsycamore]

Hello great idea you had for our challenge if I may can I have Comte x Leonardo with the prompt Office AU ?

Thank you have a wonderful day 🙏😊

Glad that you like the idea!! 🥺 You too have a lovely day & enjoy the business daddies~

[ 🌈 part of the character x character or genderbent!character x mc requests🌈 ]

For Different Universe, Same Love content creation challenge, hosted by @queengiuliettafirstlady and me.

𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐔┅┅┅Leonardo x Comte (slightly suggestive)

𝐥𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞

"Tsk, Leonardo. Feet off the desk, please."

"You're not my boss."

It's practically true. After the company merged, Germain & Da Vinci's legal CEO is no other than Leonardo himself - for better or for worse. The family-owned business that Leonardo inherited came in a package deal with all its complicated management that dear Comte, the vice-president, was ready to shoulder as a part of his secret deal with Leonardo. The guy is just not fit for a boss; or so he claims.

"I suggest we leave those formalities in the office. You surely know what day today is, signore CEO?"

Leonardo has to briefly spin on his office chair to reach for the small calendar on his desk and move the date to what he assumes it might be, in order to get an idea of what's so special about today. It's a whole miracle on itself that he can find said calendar among the mess that his desk is, seeing that he'd once again dismissed the secretary before she could do her job.

"I saw Dazai by the coffee machine wearing his kimono ... Casual Friday... July 7th." The confident guess is accompanied by a snap of his fingers. "What is July 7th?"

Comte sighs, visibly disappointed by his antics and the fact that he'd forgotten. It's better to show than tell.

Like a magician performing for his one-person public, all it takes is a few ministrations of Comte's capable hands to undo and shrug off both his business suit and diligently ironed black shirt to reveal...another shirt underneath. Short-sleeved. Palm-tree printed. Hawaiian.

"Vacation. That's what it is. Our flight is in 5 hours, I believe you're clueless about this too."

It's good that office chairs are no good for attempting to balance them on two legs. Leonardo would've found himself on the floor. NOONE in team meeting would believe him about this. At least he's able to shake off the surprise pretty fast.

"Well, heh. Guess I need the holiday if my head is such a mess, huh?""

Comte's gaze softens, because, that's actually something he can't argue with. Managing the company aside, Leonardo works hard on the research front to better the formula passed down in his family business. That's always been what the genius wanted to do.

"Nice shirt, by the way. You got one my size?"

Comte's soft chuckles soundtrack his approach to the desk and die down to a small humming noise by the time he arrives at Leonardo's side. A slender finger nudging the first button of his shirt - the first buttoned one, anyway - until it slowly, annoyingly slowly comes undone.

Leonardo moves in for a kiss, but the other party withdraws all too fast.

"I might just have one your size. But I told you. Feet off the desk first."

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[clarepreed]

Lifeguard Not On Duty

Story Content and Summary - 4,544 words. Larissa and Mitchell pull a drowning neighbor from the ocean. On-site resuscitation.

The previous installment of the Larissa & Mitchell series: Interlude

--

“If you sell the company to Mark, we could buy property here, right?” Larissa asked.

Mitchell looked over at her, surprised. She was leaning back in an Adirondack chair, her hands folded over her stomach. Her eyes were on the ocean.

“I didn’t think you wanted to sell,” he said, stretching his hand out toward her. She took it, their hands dangling clasped between the chairs.

“I didn’t want you to make a decision when you were still scared, honey.” She squeezed his hand. “You love that company.”

“I love you more, Larissa.”

“I know.” She looked over at him and smiled. “I have never doubted it.”

“You want to buy property here?” He wove his fingers between hers. “There are houses in this neighborhood for sale. And we can afford it even if I don’t sell the company.”

Larissa sighed. “I should know that. I’ve seen our financials. I just didn’t remember…”

Her eyes were on the ocean again, but she was frowning now. Mitchell gently shook her hand. The ring he’d bought her glimmered in the sun.

“It’s okay, baby. You remember most things,” Mitchell said, his worried gaze on her profile. “It’s more normal to assume we have to sell a company to buy a place in Hawaii than it is to assume we can have both if we want.”

“I’m just frustrated. Sometimes I feel completely like myself. Then something will happen and I feel like I have pieces missing. I had physical therapy, speech therapy… there’s nothing for this.” 

“Time. Just time. Which we will have even more of if we sell.”

“Time, and our very own Hawaiian beachfront home.” Then she cackled, and Mitchell couldn’t help but grin. “Oh, look! There’s a neighbor. Out there in the water.”

Mitchell looked out over the water. Sure enough, he could just make out someone’s head and shoulders as they swam parallel to the shore. “So it is. Do you want to go out later?”

“It’s supposed to be overcast around eleven. That might be the best time.” Larissa leaned back into her chair, making a visible effort to release her distress from moments before.

“I’m going to run inside for coffee,” Mitchell said, squeezing her hand and releasing it. “Do you want anything?”

“Water, please.” She smiled up at him. “Thank you, honey.” 

Mitchell climbed out of his chair and then leaned over Larissa, giving her a kiss when she turned her face up to his. 

A few minutes later, he had coffee brewing and a glass filled with ice. He was filling the glass with water from the filtered refrigerator tap when he heard Larissa scream his name.

“MITCHELL!” The shout was raw, and followed by a series of thuds.

Mitchell flinched, and the glass slipped from his hand. It smashed on the floor, spraying his leg with cold water and shards of glass. He took off, slipping a little in the puddle but staying on his feet as he rushed out onto the deck. He expected her to be sprawled on the decking, but the deck was empty, Larissa nowhere to be seen.

He hesitated, calling out to her: “Larissa! Larissa?”

When he spotted her, the sight was so out of context that he initially stopped and stared. Larissa was running from their condo’s boardwalk toward the ocean, bare feet kicking up sand and her hair streaming behind her. Mitchell had never actually seen her run; her health had prohibited her from running most of the time they’d been together. He had a few seconds to appreciate her beauty before his mind caught up and he remembered something was wrong.

“Larissa!” he shouted, taking off after her down the boardwalk. He hadn’t gone running in a long while himself; between taking care of Larissa, visiting her in the hospital, working, and trying not to die, he was out of the habit. 

Ahead of him, she ran into the surf, water splashing up to her knees. He saw her stumble, but she didn’t fall. She was wading into the ocean as fast as she could in her street clothes, seemingly on a mission.

“Larissa!” he shouted, running off the boardwalk and into the sand. Larissa brought her arms up above her head and then dove. He was trying to run through the sand and keep an eye on her, flabbergasted and afraid. His fear burst out of him in a shout: “What the fuck are you doing?!”

Larissa swam perpendicular to the beach. Mitchell made it across the sand and into the surf before he realized what she was about. The water foamed around his legs, cool against his stinging skin. He could see Larissa wrestling with a limp body, trying to pull the motionless swimmer back toward the shore. He thrashed toward her, meeting them halfway. Larissa was towing a petite woman in a swim cap, goggles, and a black one piece. The woman appeared to have drowned, her body completely limp.

Larissa struggled, trying to keep both her head and the unconscious woman’s head above water. “Take…” She was only able to speak one word, shoving the woman’s body in Mitchell’s direction.

He accepted the limp burden automatically and immediately headed back to shore, though he kept looking back to see if Larissa was behind him. She was, and by the time he could put his feet down and scooped the unconscious woman up in his arms, Larissa was staggering toward the beach beside him.

Mitchell thrashed through the surf, wincing when Larissa fell face first into the water. Larissa struggled back to her feet, coughing and sputtering as he laid the unconscious stranger out in the sand. The smaller woman’s arms flopped out to either side, her skin an ashen color.

Mitchell pulled the woman’s goggles off, discomfited to see that her eyes were open, staring up and through him. He leaned over her, his hand on her chest and his ear close to her mouth. He could still hear Larissa coughing, and then he felt her hands at his hips, patting his pockets.

“Your phone?” Larissa asked, sounding breathless.

The woman, he realized, was not breathing.

“Shit! My phone is on the deck!” Mitchell tipped the woman’s head back, her head wobbling loosely on her neck. “She’s not breathing!”

“I’ll get… it,” Larissa wheezed. Mitchell heard her wheezing and felt torn as he pinched the stranger’s nose and rushed to seal his mouth over hers. Larissa continued, staggering to her feet. “I’ll call for… help, and get my… inhaler.”

Mitchell broke the seal, his eyes shifting from the stranger to his wife, who was hurrying back to the house, listing as she moved. Then he gave the woman another breath. Both breaths were difficult to force into the woman, and she made a gurgling sound when the air escaped. 

He shifted in the sand, trying to move into a better position and feeling the time ticking away from her. He ran his hands down her sides, searching for her bottom ribs and following them to her sternum. Or attempting to. Her bathing suit compressed her chest, forcing her breasts together. He started chest compressions anyway, trying to force his weight past them.

“One, two, three, four… Dammit!” Frustrated, seeing he wasn’t reaching the proper depth, he reached for the straps of her suit, jerking them one at a time off of her narrow shoulders and down her arms. He yanked at the neckline, the wet fabric clinging to her skin. Finally, he got the suit pulled down to her navel, the straps pinning her arms to her side and leaving her breasts exposed. He found his mark again.

“Five, six, seven, eight, nine…” The woman’s small frame bent beneath his hands, gurgling and sucking sounds emitting from her slack mouth each time he compressed her chest. Mitchell looked up toward the house, staring until he spotted Larissa there. It was far enough away that he couldn’t see what she was doing, but he could look at least tell that she was still on her feet.

“…twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two…” Satisfied, Mitchell looked down at the stranger. A wash of white foam erupted from her nose and mouth, running over her face and pooling in her eye sockets before it ran down her cheek and temple. Mitchell pinched her nose again, grasping her chin with his other hand and forcing her mouth open. Her jaw felt tight. He hesitated a fraction of a second before he tipped her head to the side, water trickling out of her mouth and carrying with it a wave of foam.

Thumbing the foamy liquid from her mouth, he turned her face back to the sky and gave her another breath. He could hear fluid gurgling in her mouth and throat as he blew once, twice. Mitchell tipped her head to the side again and resumed chest compressions. 

The woman’s distended stomach swelled further each time he thrust his hands into her sternum. He heard water sloshing in her belly, an accompaniment to the gagging noises she made. Her shoulders shrugged in time with his thrusts. Foam dripped continuously onto the sand.

“…ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen…” Mitchell felt uneasy every time he looked at her face and saw her staring eyes. He looked further down her body, where her breasts jiggled as he pumped the woman’s otherwise petite chest. He looked back up at the house and saw Larissa was still on the deck.

The woman sounded like she was choking, but when he looked back at her face, she still stared into nothing. Mitchell counted to thirty chest compressions and then changed tactics, swinging a leg over her prone body. He clasped his hands together and pressed them just above her navel. He gave her five deep abdominal thrusts, which made her chest bow and a wet belching sound erupt from her mouth. More foam and water gushed from her mouth and nose. After the fifth thrust, Mitchell stretched himself out over her body and tipped her head toward the sky. Pinching her nose and pressing his mouth to hers, he gave her a deep breath. He felt her chest rise, heard her gurgling exhalation. He gave her another breath.

Mitchell didn’t bother switching back to her side. He clasped his hands together and found his reddened mark. As he began pumping her chest, the woman’s eyes stared up at him. Another round of foam oozed out of her airway, running down her chin and pooling in the notch between her clavicles. Mitchell squeezed his eyes shut, trying to concentrate on counting and pressing his hands down to the correct depth. “…nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen…”

He wrenched his eyes open and looked back up toward the house. He didn’t immediately see Larissa, and it was hard to scan the property with his head bobbing up and down. 

Before he could become even more concerned, she appeared, walking quickly down the boardwalk with a phone pressed to her ear. He could tell from the way she carried herself that she wanted to move faster but couldn’t; one arm tight down her side, her stride reduced to a third of its length.

Mitchell shook his head, torn between his ingrained desire to look after his wife and the immediate need to pay attention to the woman dying underneath his hands. He looked away from Larissa and bent over the stranger, trying to blow past the foam, past her cold lips. He tasted the salt of the ocean and felt the grit of the sand on her face. Sweat ran down his temples, dripping onto her damp skin.

He’d climbed back off the woman and made it through another cycle before Larissa reached him. She dropped to her knees by the woman’s head and laid the phone on the sand, calling out: “I’m with the victim and my husband. He is still performing CPR. I’m going to help him.”

“Don’t,” he warned, leaning over to give the woman a breath. He panted a little between breaths, then resumed chest compressions. Larissa reached out and turned the woman’s head to the side, letting the foam and water trickle out. 

“I used my inhaler,” she murmured. “I’ll be okay.”

“One, two, three, four, five…” His arms burned. He knew he needed help, and he could tell Larissa was feeling better than she had when she’d dragged herself out of the water. Still, he was afraid he would end up with two victims, and he knew that his attention would go to his wife over the stranger stretched out beneath him.

“An ambulance is on the way. Continue CPR and let me know if there is any change,” the 9-1-1 operator’s disembodied voice said.

“…twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!” Mitchell halted compressions and Larissa waved him off, quickly turning the woman’s face toward the sky and pinching off her nose. Mitchell leaned back on his heels, breathing hard as Larissa sealed her mouth over the other woman’s, both of their cheeks rounding out as she exhaled. As she gave the stranger a second breath, Mitchell buried his hands between her breasts.

“One, two, three…” 

Chest compressions still produced a prodigious amount of foam. Larissa kept the woman’s face upright, holding her airway open with one hand and trying to clear her nose and mouth with the other. Abruptly, the woman made a loud gurgling sound and a large amount of water surged up into her mouth.

It was enough that Mitchell stopped pumping her chest, exclaiming: “We have to roll her!”

They rolled the woman onto her side. Her lips were still a harsh shade of purple. Mitchell slid his hand over from the woman’s hip, pressing it flat against her abdomen. He pushed in and up against her stomach, trying to force more of the water out of her. The woman’s body convulsed, and another surge of water spilled out onto the sand. 

Larissa wiped her hand down the woman’s face and swept two of her fingers between her teeth. “If she threw up, she didn’t have anything solid!”

They quickly placed the woman on her back, and Larissa gave the woman two full breaths, her breasts rising and falling. Mitchell found his mark again and started pumping her chest, trying to judge if he was compressing her sternum deep enough. 

The force felt like enough; her ribcage groaned, and he felt something pop under his hands. Each compression made the small woman’s shoulders shrug and her legs rock, feet swaying side to side. Her belly looked less distended, and it rippled each time he shoved his hands down. She was emitting a quiet sound with each compression, a rhythmic “hunh, hunh, hunh,” that became less wet sounding as time passed.

“…eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one…”

“How long until the ambulance gets here?” Larissa asked. She looked at Mitchell, meeting his gaze. Her face looked pale and grim.

“…twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!”

As Larissa bent to give the woman another breath, the operator piped up: “ETA to your address is five minutes.”

“And it will take them another couple to get out here,” Mitchell groaned, breathing hard. “Fuck!”

As he bent over the woman, Larissa said: “Let me take over for a while.”

“One, two, three, four… Is that a good idea? Nine, ten, eleven…”

Larissa braced the woman’s head again, but her eyes were on him. “You need a break, Mitchell. If I can’t do it properly, you can take back over.”

“Rescuers should swap out every two minutes if you can do so safely,” he heard the operator say.

“Alright. I’ll breathe this time and then you’ll start. Thirty!” Mitchell leaned straight over the woman, his hands replacing Larissa’s and his mouth sealing over the slack, cool lips. As he completed the second breath, Larissa got into position, her knees wide for balance and her hands stacked on top of the bruise forming over the woman’s sternum.

“One, two, three…” Larissa didn’t have his strength, not after everything she’d been through, but he was relieved to see that she was compressing the woman’s chest to the correct depth and at the proper speed. Her hair, wet from jumping into the ocean, was drying, the long strands blowing in the breeze. “…twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight…”

Mitchell pressed his mouth over the stranger’s. Breathing for her seemed easier now; he could only hope he’d helped her. He was afraid for her, given that she hadn’t responded so far. Mitchell leaned back on his heels, still holding the woman’s airway open and avoiding her stare by watching Larissa’s hands on her chest. 

His wife’s hands looked graceful, her long fingers interlocked together as she rolled her weight into the woman’s sternum. Mitchell’s body ached with worry and exhaustion, but he couldn’t help but admire her. Their rigorous sex life aside, he rarely got to see her looking physically strong. In his mind, she was mentally strong, but physically fragile. 

He bent to give the stranger another pair of breaths, spitting to the side when his mouth came away coated with salt and sand. Then his attention returned to Larissa.

Her cheeks were pink with exertion, hair tangled in salty clumps around her face. She wore a determined expression, small wrinkles furrowing the skin between her brows. Mitchell listened intently to her breath, rushing in and out of her as she counted. She looked like she was trying to use her body weight instead of her strength.

Smart, baby. 

“…fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen…” Larissa counted quietly, shoulders rocking. Beneath her hands, the woman’s sternum dipped and her stomach popped. Mitchell could hear air coming out of her in short, watery puffs.

Mitchell tipped the woman’s head to the side to let some of the fluid and foam drain before it was time to breathe for her. As Larissa reached thirty compressions, Mitchell turned her face back to the sky and pressed his lips over the woman’s cool, gritty skin and exhaled.

“That went…” Larissa trailed off, sounding uncertain.

“What?” Mitchell asked, before drawing another deep breath.

“Her stomach rose,” Larissa said, her light eyes meeting his. “When you gave her a breath. Not her chest.”

Mitchell leaned down and gave the woman another breath, this time more slowly as his eyes cut to the side. He heard a voice from the phone but didn’t catch what the operator said. The woman’s chest rose, and Larissa exclaimed: “That did it!”

Then she was back on compression, her voice a little louder and quavering with excitement. “One, two, three, four, five, six…”

Mitchell tipped the woman’s head to the side again, his eyes on the woman’s chest. Larissa held strong, her compressions forcing the woman’s sternum down by what appeared to be two inches. The motion made the woman’s breasts quiver, and Mitchell jerked his eyes over to her stomach, feeling a little guilty for noticing. He could still hear gurgling and sloshing sounds from the woman, along with the skin-on-skin sound from Larissa’s hands on the woman’s chest. 

Larissa’s voice quieted a bit, and he could hear her breathing hard, though he didn’t think he heard her wheezing. 

“Do you need me to take over?” he asked.

“…twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty! I can go one more round,” she gasped, breathing hard as he blew two measured breaths into the woman’s lungs.

“Where are we on that ambulance?” he asked, as Larissa resumed chest compressions.

“One, two, three, four, five…”

“ETA is two minutes.”

“…nine, ten, eleven…” Sweat trickled down Larissa’s face, ran from her neck between her breasts and soaked into her shirt. “…twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen…”

“Huh, huh, huh… hurgh!” Every time the woman made a noise, Mitchell’s heart rate increased, but then he’d look at her face and her features were still closed off and slack, and her skin still looked gray.

“…twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!” Larissa leaned back with a gasp, and Mitchell bent over to give the woman rescue breaths. He opened her airway carefully and tried not to inflate her stomach again, or gag when water and saliva foamed up into his mouth.

Then he shifted over the woman, placing his hands back on her chest. Across from him, Larissa was sitting on her knees, hands splayed on her thighs and her eyes closed while she breathed.

“One, two, three, four, five…” The woman’s ribcage shifted beneath his hands, bowing under pressure and then springing back up when he released it. He tried to keep his focus, counting out loud and keeping the proper depth at the forefront of his mind. “…thirteen, fourteen, fifteen—”

The woman gagged, and Mitchell’s eyes darted to her face, his hands continuing to pump her chest. Larissa reached over and turned the woman’s head to the side, her thumb pulling the woman’s jaw down and open.

Another gag, and then he saw her eyes shift and close.

“Ma’am?!” Larissa called out, her voice hoarse.

Mitchell paused the chest compressions, his hands still in position. “Is she—”

The woman coughed, and he felt her chest heave beneath his hands.

“On her side!” Mitchell lifted his hands and reached for the woman’s shoulder and hip. He rolled the woman onto her side, Larissa attending to her head and keeping her airway open. The woman shuddered on the sand, her shoulders hunching and a wave of snot, water, and foam gushing from her nose and mouth. Mitchell was relieved when she drew a breath, even if she immediately coughed it back out.

“How is the patient?” asked the operator.

“She’s breathing!” Mitchell almost shouted, nearly laughing with relief.

“Hey, can you hear me?” Larissa asked, her eyes intent on the woman’s face. “You’re okay! You had an accident in the water, but an ambulance is coming!”

The woman didn’t open her eyes, but she continued to retch and take in short gasps of air. Mitchell tugged on the front of her bathing suit, trying to pull it up enough to cover her heaving breasts.

“Here,” Larissa said. “You don’t have to… I have a tank under this…”

Her shirt was damp with sweat and seawater, as well as covered in sand, but she peeled it off and then shook it out. She draped it over the woman, murmuring something calming under her breath and patting the woman’s arm. The top she had on under her shirt was low cut and translucent where it was still wet, showing the lace of her bra through the material. Mitchell mentally shook himself when he found his eyes tracing the constellation of freckles that ran from her collarbones to the tops of her breasts.

Not the time, you old horn dog.

Larissa’s graceful fingers were pulling at the edge of the woman’s swim cap, trying to pull it off her head. She peeled it back carefully, then dropped it on the sand before smoothing the woman’s damp hair. 

“You’re okay,” she said. “Open your eyes for us, okay?”

Mitchell’s ears picked up sirens in the distance and rapidly growing closer. “I hear the ambulance. They’ll be here any minute with oxygen and you’ll feel a lot better.”

The woman groaned then, though she still didn’t open her eyes. 

Larissa looked up at Mitchell. She looked exhausted, dirty, and a little sunburned. Her hair was desperately in need of a wash and detangle.

Mitchell thought she looked beautiful. He felt a tightness in his chest; not from anxiety or heart trouble, but from love and pride and relief.

“She’s going to be okay,” he said.

“She is.” Larissa beamed at him, then leaned across to give him a quick kiss.

The next several minutes flew by. He saw a couple of medics wheeling a gurney down the boardwalk, followed closely by a cop. Larissa waved both of her arms at them.

Soon, they had left the gurney behind and hurried across the sand carrying bags and what looked like a backboard, the cop assisting.

“Help is here,” Larissa said to the woman, whose eyelids were fluttering. “You’re going to be just fine.”

Mitchell scooted to the side as one medic crouched in the sand. “My wife spotted her in the ocean. We pulled her out and performed CPR until she started breathing again. She hasn’t been very responsive, and we don’t know her name.”

“Thank you, sir,” the second medic said. “We will take it from here.”

“Ma’am?” the first medic called out, squeezing the woman’s shoulder.

Larissa picked up her phone and put it to her ear. “They’re here. Yes. Thank you. Goodbye.” 

Mitchell climbed to his feet, still breathing hard, intending to go around and offer his hand to Larissa. The cop stopped him.

“I need to ask you a few questions,” the officer said. “I have to make a report.”

Mitchell brushed his sandy hands off on his equally sandy shorts. “I was… Sure. Sure, what do you need to know?”

  He couldn’t help but be distracted; the medics were attempting to rouse the woman while taking her vitals and giving her oxygen. He was also aware of Larissa climbing to her feet, staggering in the loose sand as she backed away from the scene. 

“Sir?” the cop asked.

Mitchell looked back over at him. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“Do you know what happened?”

“Actually, my wife…” Mitchell trailed off. Larissa was standing several feet away. She appeared to be looking down at the woman, but her eyes were unfocused. “Larissa?”

The cop turned to look as Mitchell pushed past him.

“Hey.” Mitchell slid his arm around her back, gripping her tight enough to keep her upright if she fell. “Baby, do you need to sit back down?”

“I just feel really tired.” She squeezed her eyes shut, swaying in his arms. “I’m sorry. I stood up too fast.”

Mitchell helped her sit, easing her back down to the sand. “Nothing to apologize for. We just got a lot of exercise.”

“Yeah.” Larissa chuckled and leaned against him. “I’m not exactly in fighting shape.”

 Mitchell wasn’t sure how long it took to wrap things up with the cop and for the medics to get the woman to the gurney and then up to the ambulance. He just knew that his arms were shaking as he helped Larissa up off the sand, and that their slow pace back to the house was almost as much for his benefit as it was for hers.

“We need a shower,” Larissa muttered. “I have sand everywhere. I don’t even know what to do about my hair.”

“Maybe a bath, so we can sit.”

“We might have to cut off my hair.”

Mitchell paused on the boardwalk and eyed her tangled hair. “You are beautiful. You will always be beautiful. And it’s your hair.”

“But?” she asked, giving him a sly, if tired, smile.

“I really like your hair.”

“Enough to help me detangle it?”

“You don’t even have to ask.” Mitchell leaned close and pressed a kiss to her gritty temple. “God, baby. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She turned, her arms sliding around him. “We did good.”

“We did.” Mitchell kissed the top of her head. “I’m proud of us.”

--

The story continues in: Protect

[ifjgh]

Last of the guys, here's my sweet lad from Hawaii, Keo Hale.

Here's some basic info! <3

Goes By: Keo Nicknames: Tech Guy, Teddy Bear DOB: Jun. 5th, 1955 Age: 22 (Summer B-Day, so he stays the same throughout the story) Gender: Male, but closeted questioning (He/Him/They/Them) Sexuality: Bi/Pan Ethnicity: Hawaiian, Vietnamese Occupation: Student (Electrical Engineering Major), Possible side-job, Campus Technical Wizard Socioeconomic Status: Middle Class, family was wealthy enough to afford a home computer and some gaming consoles that Keo always tinkered with Place of Birth: Honolulu, Hawaii Family: Father (Vietnamese Refugee) and Mother (Native Hawaiian), slightly spoiled their son Height: 6'4“ Weight: 222 lbs. Disabilities: None (?), possibly Autistic (Computers and Stuffed Animals could qualify as his special interests) Fashion Style: Nerd/Casual/Warm Weather Coordination (or lack thereof): He doesn't have the best coordination for sports (Manzo tried to get him on the Team, but it was too much for him), but he very delicate and gentle (working with motherboards and things, he kinda has to be) Personality Type/Trait: Virtuoso - Bold, Practical, Experimental, Master of various Tools Introvert/Extrovert: Introvert for the most part, prefers to work in small groups with trusted people, or alone (Attilio and Shelby are the only ones who can get him to go to parties and things) Intelligence: Excels with anything tech related, but has a hard time with Social Ques, Book-Smart over all else Self-Esteem: Below Average, he's got a lot of stuff to figure out about himself, and doesn't fully know how to approach it or if anyone else would be accepting of him Hobbies: Tinkering with any and all Tech (computers, gaming consoles, and the PA System that one time…), Adding to His Teddy Bear Collection, Learning about Music (he's not big into it, but he's interested in it) Skills/Talents: Tech Wizard (Can fix anything Tech related, no matter what happened to it, just give him a day or two), Compassion, Generosity, Second Strongest out of the Main 8 (but he rarely applies it to anything) Loves: Teddy Bears and Soft things, Tech, Problem solving, Puzzles, Helping People Phobias/Fears: That he may come off as Selfish or cold like Syd when he's actually just Shy, Being taken Advantage of without knowing until it's too late, Fire, People making fun of his interests Angered By: Difficult Tech Problems, Bullies Pet Peeves: People moving his stuff (it may LOOK like a mess, but he has a SYSTEM he swears), People talking over him (He's a quiet talker, so when it does happen it's usually on accident), Being late to things Obsessed With: Tech and Figuring out how things work, Teddy Bears, Making People Happy Bad habits: Chews his nails, tends to get lost in focus when he's working and just won't respond to anything, Messy (It's a SYSTEM), backs down easily Desires: To help others, and to always be there for anyone who needs him, Probably to start his own Tech company too Flaws: Will overwork himself to get stuff done, rarely ever takes breaks (Attilio's slowly getting him addicted to coffee) Secrets: Tries to keep his Teddy Bear Collection a Secret, but pretty much everyone knows (Thanks, Shelby). How much he misses home. The ways he wants to present himself v.s. the way he does present himself, mostly out of fear for not being accepted, he'll {REDACTED}, but even then he worries someone will say something about it. Regrets: Not being able to stand up for people when they need it (mostly when Syd bullies Attilio), Not being faster at fixing things, Not being brave enough to {REDACTED}. Accomplishments: Found a fatal flaw in one of the computers he tinkered with, and reaching out to the company to let them know how to fix it and them actually using his method. Said company agreed to pay for his Collage Scholarship as a thank you. Languages Known: fluent in 'Ōlelo Hawai'i, Vietnamese, and English, knows a decent amount of Italian (from being best buds with Attilio), some Afrikaans slang (from hanging out with Shelby), and some creative English insults (from being roommates with Syd)

(Things are subject to change the more I get things fine tuned, I've also kept some things secret for the time being. - Crow <3)

Bonus! Basic Profile Sheet, for funsies! X

[socialbrewcoffee]

Beyond Luxury: 5 Reasons Why Kona Coffee Beans are Worth Every Sip and Where to Find the Best

Forget trendy lattes and fleeting caffeine kicks. We're diving into the world of pure Kona coffee beans, a realm where each sip transcends mere beverage and becomes an experience - a taste of volcanic paradise bottled in a tiny, aromatic treasure. But why, you ask, does this Hawaiian legend command a premium price tag? Let's explore 5 reasons why 100 Kona coffee beans are undeniably worth every splurge:

5 reasons why 100 Kona coffee beans worth every sip

1. Volcanic Kiss: 

Imagine sun-drenched slopes cradling coffee trees nourished by rich, mineral-infused volcanic soil. This unique terroir imbues Kona coffee beans with a complexity unmatched by any other region, boasting subtle notes of caramel, citrus, and even a hint of floral sweetness.

2. Hand-Picked Perfection: 

Forget mass-produced machinery. Single-origin Kona coffee beans are meticulously hand-picked at peak ripeness, ensuring only the best cherries make it to your cup. This dedication to quality results in a bean with unrivaled consistency and flavor potential.

3. Liquid Paradise: 

Beyond the buzz, Kona coffee beans offer a symphony of taste. Imagine smooth, velvety textures dancing on your tongue, releasing waves of complex flavors from buttery toffee to delicate fruit and a hint of dark chocolate. It's a sensory journey worthy of closing your eyes and savoring every drop.

4. Sustainable Soul: 

Ethical sourcing matters. Responsible Kona farms prioritize ecological balance and fair trade practices, ensuring your enjoyment of this luxury doesn't come at the cost of the environment or local communities.

5. Gateway to Hawaii: 

Every mug of Kona coffee is a mini vacation. It's a chance to escape the mundane and bask in the spirit of aloha. With each sip, you're transported to the sun-kissed shores, the scent of plumeria wafting on the breeze, and the gentle rhythm of the waves.

Where to Find the Best Kona Coffee Beans Online?

So, where do you find these exquisite gems? While many brands boast Kona blends, seeking pure Kona coffee beans requires discerning sources. Look for reputable, small-batch roasters committed to single-origin Kona and ethical practices.

And now, let's unveil the secret to unlocking the magic within every bean: Social Brew. Our passion lies in bringing you the finest single-origin Kona coffee, sourced directly from trusted Hawaiian farms. We believe in quality over quantity, offering ethically sourced, micro-roasted Kona beans that unleash the full spectrum of their volcanic-kissed potential.

Ready to experience paradise in a cup? Visit Social Brew and discover why 100 Kona coffee beans are beyond mere luxury - they're an island escape for your senses, a sip of paradise, and a story of aloha in every brew.

[rabbitcruiser]

National Cinnamon Day

Celebrate and appreciate one of the world’s favorite ancient spices by getting excited about National Cinnamon Day. So grab a favorite cinnamon treat and read on to learn more about this delicious spice and the ways it has been part of human history for thousands of years!

History of National Cinnamon Day

Native to Ceylon, which is modern day Sri Lanka, cinnamon’s first recordings are from Chinese writings that date as far back as 2800 BC. Even today in the Cantonese language, cinnamon is still known as “kwai”. And in the Malay language, it goes by “kayumanis”, which means “sweet wood”. This is certainly an apt description of this spicy but uniquely sweet flavor.

During medieval times, doctors found that cinnamon worked well as a treatment for coughs, sore throats and hoarseness. It may also have been considered a status symbol and was often used as a special imported gift given to monarchs, royalty and other people of importance.

Cinnamon, along with other precious spices might seem rather innocuous now, but in the early days of their discovery, several wars were fought over the lands where cinnamon came from. The Portuguese, Dutch and British armies all sought to conquer Ceylon (modern day Sri Lanka) in an effort to obtain full access to their spices.

Today, sourcing cinnamon comes with much less angst and political struggle as, for most people, it’s easy to simply pop over to the local grocery store, health food store or spice shop to pick some up. Typically cinnamon can be found in two varieties, ground or whole. Ground cinnamon is used in many different recipes for baking and cooking, while whole cinnamon sticks are more often steeped into beverages or infused into flavoring syrups.

Of course, cinnamon is really the star of the show when it comes to the beloved pumpkin pie spice. Combined with allspice, nutmeg and clove, cinnamon is the base for this grouping of flavors that represents all things fall.

In honor of National Cinnamon Day, it’s time to get creative and enjoy cinnamon in a whole myriad of ways!

National Cinnamon Day Timeline

2000 BC Spices are exchanged along the Silk Road

A network of sea routes link East to West, from Japan all the way over to Europe, and cinnamon is one of the spices traded on this route.

65 AD Emperor Nero burns cinnamon

Nero is said to have burned a year’s worth of Rome’s supply of cinnamon at his wife’s funeral. 

14th Century Portuguese explorers find cinnamon

While traders brought the spice to the West, the place where it originates from is kept secret until the Portuguese discover it in Ceylon.

Early 1800s British take over Ceylon

Defeating the Dutch occupiers, the British take over the island country of Ceylon, gaining full access to cinnamon.

1930s Cinnamon candy is made

Produced by the Ferrara Pan Candy Company, Red Hots are made using the panned method of candy making.

How to Celebrate National Cinnamon Day

Get excited about cinnamon and enjoy National Cinnamon Day with some of these fun and clever ideas for celebrating:

Eat Something Cinnamon

From cinnamon candy to cinnamon rolls and everything in between, National Cinnamon Day is best celebrated by enjoying the flavors of this delicious spice. Whether it’s simply grabbing a pack of cinnamon gum from the local convenience store, or a cinnamon latte from a local coffee shop, this is the day to enjoy all things cinnamon!

In fact, while often associated with sweet things in the West, cinnamon is also often used in savory dishes in many cultures. From curries to mole sauces to barbecue rubs, cinnamon can be used in every meal of the day for breakfast lunch and dinner!

Try a cinnamon roll or a healthy bowl of oatmeal flavored with cinnamon for breakfast. Lunch could consist of a Hawaiian pizza topped with pineapple, ham and almond slivers, sprinkled with delicious cinnamon. And dinner? Well, a big vat of butter chicken, cinnamon green lentil soup or chicken shawarma would do nicely, thank you very much!

Learn the Health Benefits of Cinnamon

Cinnamon is more than just a yummy way to flavor foods and beverages! It is also a natural substance that offers a whole host of properties that may be beneficial to human health. There’s a reason that it was often offered as a gift to kings!

Consider some of these interesting benefits of including cinnamon as part of a healthy diet:

Cinnamon is full of antioxidants. Fighting off free radicals is the name of the game when it comes to preventing health problems such as cancer, heart disease and other issues.

Cinnamon has anti-inflammatory properties. Inflammation can be helpful in fighting off foreign bodies, but too much inflammation can cause huge health problems like arthritis, asthma, diabetes, cancer and so much more.

Cinnamon may help prevent heart disease. This unassuming spice has been linked as a way to reduce heart disease, which is the number one cause of death in the world today.

Cinnamon can help balance insulin. A serious problem today is insulin resistance which can cause type 2 diabetes and metabolic syndrome. Cinnamon can help to reduce the body’s resistance to the hormone insulin and help it do its job well.

Enjoy Baking with Cinnamon

Cinnamon brings a whole host of opportunities for cooking and baking in the kitchen at home. From cinnamon rolls to snickerdoodle cookies, from cinnamon donuts to cinnamon coffee cake, this spice really has it all!

Get creative by adding cinnamon sugar to honey and rolling it in phyllo dough for a pseudo-baklava taste. Or go a bit more traditional by baking an all-American apple pie that is, of course, spiced with cinnamon. Another enjoyable way to use cinnamon is to add it to a traditional loaf of quick bread, such as banana bread, pumpkin bread.

Savor a Cup of Cinnamon Tea

While many people think of cooking and baking with cinnamon, one of the best ways to enjoy this delicious spice is by steeping it into a hot beverage. Teas made from cinnamon can be not only tasty but can also offer a nice way to infuse some of the health benefits that were mentioned above.

So, in honor of National Cinnamon Day, perhaps consider trying out one of these delightful brands of cinnamon tea:

Harney & Sons Hot Cinnamon Spice Tea. This is the most popular flavor of this company’s tea that is sold throughout the world, its flavors are of cinnamon, orange peel and sweet cloves.

The Republic of Tea Cinnamon Plum Tea. This is a black tea that is blended with zingy cinnamon spice and offers the calm taste of ripe plums.

Bigelow Black Tea Cinnamon Stick. A classic version with a spicy kick, this black tea is just the right balance of sweet and spicy.

National Cinnamon Day FAQs

Can dogs have cinnamon?

Cinnamon is not toxic to dogs, but it could cause indigestion so it may be best to avoid giving cinnamon to a dog.

Is cinnamon good for you?

Yes! Cinnamon is a healthy spice that contains antioxidants and may be helpful in fighting against heart disease, insulin resistance, and might even protect against cancer.

Where does cinnamon come from?

Originating from trees in Sri Lanka, which is an island in the Indian Ocean, a lot of cinnamon is now grown in Indonesia.

How to make cinnamon sugar

Cinnamon sugar is easy! Just combine 2 tablespoons of cinnamon with ½ cup white sugar and combine.

Can cinnamon go bad?

Though cinnamon will not usually “go bad”, it can get old and lose some of its strength and flavor.

Source

[starrystrawb]

Now introducing Volcanos! She is hot tempered, powerful, and kinda small compared to her fellow Mother Earth epithets. But make no mistake, she hold a power few of them possess. She is known to cause chaos so deep it can effect the other epithets.

She (kinda obviously) is based of Pele! For anyone who doesn't know, Pele is the Hawaiian Goddess of volcanos, wind, fire, lightning, and dance. She is immensely powerful and effects the other gods and goddesses around her. She is known for being quick to anger, passionate, and loving towards her people. Pele's mythos fascinates me and I adore all the stories she has. The most popular one being that she will disguise herself as a beggar woman and ask for alcohol and cigarettes. If you are kind to her, you will be in her good graces, if you fail, you will feel her wrath.

On to our eco tips!

Fire season is upon us, friends! Remember to keep in local ordinances and safely prepare yourself and your home! In some eco-systems, fire is necessary. That is what controlled burns are for! To ensure that the forests we love remain healthy, and to protect other areas, people, and wild life. Some good ground rules are to keep a fire extinguisher close by when having an out-door fire, properly store any wood kept for fires, and keep dry grass cut back away from anywhere you intend to have a fire! When you are enjoying a nice warm fire, be safe and responsible! Keep young children and pets a safe distance away, be cautious of the cinders, and completely extinguish a fire before turning in! Just like Smokey the Bear says; Only YOU can prevent forest fires!

As the seasons change and the temperatures rise, we find ourselves outside more. It's a beautiful day, friends! Be sure to enjoy it! If you are leaving the house or out in the sun, wear sunscreen! And reapply every 30 minutes - 2 hours. If you're able, use reef safe sunscreen, or sunscreens with environmentally friendly propellants if you prefer the spray kind! Most reef safe brands will have "REEF SAFE" printed on their packaging. I've used Blue Lizard and Hawaiian Tropic and liked them both!

Once you're sunscreen has run out, what do you do with the bottle? It's unfortunate but true that many beauty products are not curb-side recyclable. Some companies like Sephora, Nordstrom, and Terracycle have been advertising that they now take empty beauty product containers for recycling! If you can, consider taking your empty sunscreen bottle, blush container, or shampoo bottles to a company that provides these services! If you don't have that option, maybe repurpose the container if you can. It's not single use if you use it more than once!

I don't like yard work. I'm going to be very honest with you. I love being outside, and sometimes I even love sweating. And when my family is out there with me, damn I am just so happy! Until I am raking, or shoveling, or pulling weeds. I think it's the worst. But that doesn't mean I cant be environmentally couscous while I bitch about the work! Use paper or compostable bags when throwing out your yard debris. If you have room, you can compost weeds, leaves, sticks, and grass! If you garden, you can make a Lasagna Bed, where you layer compostable materials between layers of dirt! If you're trying to fill a hole or a large area, consider throwing those sticks and leaves and grass and whatever other organic materials in as a space filling base layer before you will it with dirt or rocks or mulch or whatever you want! The only thing I don't think that works for is a water feature.

Be brave, friends! It can be hard confronting people about problematic behavior or calling out big companies and big celebrities. I'm not saying you should berate the person in front of you at the coffee shop for not having a reusable cup, or neg someone for forgetting reusable bags! But if someone you know is supporting companies and people that are causing harm, let them know. If they choose to continue to support them, that isn't your problem. But at least you tried! Don't support companies that back Israel, like Starbucks. Boycott places that refuse to release their environmental impact statements, like Temu. Tell that one guy you know who thinks that they can't make a difference that they can! One person is all it takes to start a trend. Look at mom jeans or reusable straws!

Base

[doctorbrown]

𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 .

1. 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙨𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚?

Emmett doesn't put much stock into how he smells. He isn't the type to invest in fancy colognes or any of those things (lbr he'd go for the Irish Spring 11 in 1 soap meme), however, he does make it a point to smell clean after a long day and he is partial to the gentler scents; think spring breeze or clean linen or things of that nature. (We also know he appreciates floral scents from the way he acts with the flowers Clara gives him to pin to his lapel so.)

Because he spends a lot of hours working on his projects, he's got a faint industrial scent that often lingers on his clothes / skin. Something slightly metallic (metal pipes and wrenches and a well-loved toolbox), the scent of old paper and graphite. Think also the charged scent of the air before a thunderstorm hits.

2. 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚’𝙨 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙨 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚?

Rough. Emmett's hands are not soft; they're calloused and sometimes cut up and it's very obvious even at a glance that he's someone who works extensively with his hands. He doesn't always wear gloves or the full protective equipment when not absolutely necessary, and for that, his hands have suffered. His touch can be extremely gentle, but the look and feel of his hands don't match that.

3. 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙪𝙨𝙪𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙚𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙖 𝙙𝙖𝙮?

This varies heavily based on the time period. Emmett is quite capable of cooking for himself, however he's extremely forgetful and often neglects his own needs when caught in the throes of his own scientific endeavours. More often than not he'll remember extremely late at night that he hasn't had more than coffee in the morning / throughout the day and at that point, he's walked next door to Burger King to pick himself up a meal before he hits the ground.

With Clara and the boys, he's gotten better about eating at least two meals a day because Clara will send either Jules or Verne downstairs to fetch Emmett for meals and they are instructed to grab him and forcibly pull him away from his work if necessary. Then, he'll eat whatever Clara has prepared for their meals that day; he's surprisingly not picky.

4. 𝘿𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙖 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙫𝙤𝙞𝙘𝙚?

He has a passable singing voice. He can match pitch but he's certainly not great. Though he's not so bad as to cause someone's ears to bleed, either. Marty can outsing him any day.

5. 𝘿𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙗𝙖𝙙 𝙝𝙖𝙗𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙧 𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙨?

Staying up extremely late, neglecting his own needs, bottling up his feelings (especially in crisis situations and when Marty's around), excessively pacing, grandiose gestures, talking a lot with his hands, becoming too invested in whatever he's working on to the point of near obsession. (To start naming a few.)

6. 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙪𝙨𝙪𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 / 𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙧?

Emmett is the pinnacle of fashion. He is almost always sporting a brightly coloured Hawaiian shirt of some kind with either beige or black pants. He has even been fired from a job in the past for refusing to adhere to the company's dress code; he continued to wear Hawaiian shirts after being reprimanded twice. His white mane of hair has a life of its own and flies any which way atop his head, even if he tries to brush it down. He's far too animated for his hair to stay down without excessive amounts of hair gel. He also often wears a lab coat; it's not uncommon at all to see him out and about in Hill Valley gathering the things he needs for whatever he's working on with his coat still on. If you look close enough you might also find some dog hair on his clothing; that's just par for the course as a dog owner.

7. 𝙄𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙖𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙚?  𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙢𝙪𝙘𝙝?  𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙨𝙤?

He's quite affectionate in his own way. With the people he's extremely close to, few and far-between as they are, he's very tactile. He'll touch their shoulders or their arms and give them gentle, reaffirming squeezes, he'll pull his close friends in for a hug, he'll clap them on the back, all that.

However, his affections also come through largely through his actions. Emmett takes care to remember / memorise even the little details about his friends / loved ones. He knows Marty exceptionally well, maybe even more than Marty realises. He can gauge how he's feeling simply by the way he carries himself or by the things he does or doesn't say. He drops himself down to the level of his shorter companions to make them feel more at ease / equal.

He offers advice and reassurance where possible and always leaves the offer to talk about anything open, but he never forces anything or pushes. He loves and worries and cares a great deal, but also makes sure he doesn't smother.

8. 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙨𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙞𝙣?

Typically however he ends up in bed. He's primarily a back sleeper and doesn't toss or turn nearly as much as one might expect him to. He's also not the type to curl up, either.

9. 𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙢?

Absolutely. Subtlety is not Emmett's specialty and he not only often talks at a high volume, but his voice is strong and it carries. There's no problem hearing him in most situations, however he can be quiet when he needs to be.

Tagged by: nobody at all

Tagging: you, dear dash!

[shylightqueen]

A VERY WORTHY READ! Keanu Reeves was abandoned by his father at 3 years old and grew up with 3 different stepfathers. He is dyslexic. His dream of becoming a hockey player was shattered by a serious accident. His daughter died at birth. His wife died in a car accident. His best friend, River Phoenix, died of an overdose. His sister has leukaemia. And with everything that has happened, Keanu Reeves never misses an opportunity to help people in need. When he was filming the movie "The Lake House," he overheard the conversation of two costume assistants; One cried because he would lose his house if he did not pay $20,000 and on the same day Keanu deposited the necessary amount in the woman's bank account; He also donated stratospheric sums to hospitals. In 2010, on his birthday, Keanu walked into a bakery and bought a brioche with a single candle, ate it in front of the bakery, and offered coffee to people who stopped to talk to him. After winning astronomical sums for the Matrix trilogy, the actor donated more than $50 million to the staff who handled the costumes and special effects - the true heroes of the trilogy, as he called them. He also gave a Harley-Davidson to each of the stunt doubles. A total expense of several million dollars. And for many successful films, he has even given up 90% of his salary to allow the production to hire other stars. In 1997 some paparazzi found him walking one morning in the company of a homeless man in Los Angeles, listening to him and sharing his life for a few hours. Most stars when they make a charitable gesture they declare it to all the media. He has never claimed to be doing charity, he simply does it as a matter of moral principles and not to look better in the eyes of others. This man could buy everything, and instead every day he gets up and chooses one thing that cannot be bought: To be a good person. Keanu Reeves’ father is of Native Hawaiian descent

[madmarchhare]

Company: New short story, maybe new story. Sci- Fi

Here is the new story I said I would write. mainly cause, I saw a post asking for some recommendations for sci-fi stories so I just wrote my own. Hope you all like!

It's a bit long btw, and my attempt to do a bit of comedy as well.

A tall frowning man sat slumped in a worn old chair-turned pilot’s seat. He rested his light brown boots on a blank space on the control panel in front of him, leaning back so that he lay almost flat. He had a squarish face, with short messy deep brown hair rested on top of it, shaved to his scalp on one side. He had bored looking eyes, wreathed by dark bags and separated by a scarred nose and underneath it all was a mouth that always showed bared teeth, no matter his mood. He wore a large leather bomber jacket with a sheep’s wool collar, the whole thing a warm coffee colour, underneath which he wore an untucked teal Hawaiian shirt covered with war planes. He had white-ish cargo trousers on, the pockets were useful, and a brown leather belt upon which was holstered a pistol, a Benelli B76, a squarish looking pistol chambered in 9x18mm Ultra, an eclectic little cartridge that no one else used. So of course it was the one he picked. He liked oddities. Always had.

The ship itself was something he had built. Pulled together with as much good will as spot welds. It was industrial, rectangular, with rough edges and untended welds and patches, covered with electrical tape and cheap paint. But it was his. Don’t get it twisted, he had always wanted to have one of those beautifully slick and smooth spaceships you would see in comics and television. But, that was the only place you would see them, spotless, unaffected by the strains and harshness of reality, and this was cheaper.

He leaned back further in the chair, staring up at the ceiling, the foam padded chair creaked under the weight. One of the monitors hung from it had begun to show static, the old CRT showing a wash of lucky green rather than it’s usual picture. The man grumbled to himself and reached for a stick next to him, one with a screw-driver tip on the end and thrusted it up to one of the dials on the monitor. He twisted it until the monitor came back into focus, finishing it off with a brusque whack on the side, restoring it to its normal clarity.

“There we go,” he muttered to himself in a half-amused voice as he stared up at it, “hm?” He looked more closely at it, now noticing a small ping on the monitor declaring that something was ahead of him. He raised his head to look at the control panel, seeing a small bulb blinking with a light plink, declaring that he was receiving a message. He pulled his feet back off the panel and leaned forward to pull the receiver off the phone he had wired into the panel. Speakers were expensive, and this was so much more space efficient!

As soon as he placed the receiver by his ear it started blaring at him, “EMERGENCY! This craft has endured a catastrophic failure and is in need of urgent assistance! Any and all craft are urged to render aid! EMER-,” and so on. He checked the display next to the phone and turned it to show how long the signal had been playing for… Three weeks. He frowned down at the display, the flickering nixie tubes reflecting a warm light onto his face as he read their grim message. He knew that by this point that they were gone, or if they weren’t, they weren’t far from it. And that meant salvage. The thought excited him for a moment before his common sense decided to spoil it for him.

By this point it was likely that pirates and bandits had already looted the thing and had left the transmission on to use as bait to lure people into a trap. He grumbled slightly, staring down at the console in front of him, weighing the options in his head. He was quite opposed to the idea of being captured by pirates. It was not something on his bucket list, so to speak. But, he needed the money, there were a few things around the ship that needed a bit of TLC.

Almost to punctuate that thought, a section of the panel suddenly let of a loud snap, throwing up a small puff of smoke, making him twitch, and snap his head over as the bottom left side of the control panel went dark. “Fuck,” he muttered, reaching under the console for a small tool box, then popping off a panel the size of a loaf of bread from which the smoke had come. Underneath was a burst capacitor, its neighbour melted from it’s sudden eruption. He replaced both capacitors, dismayed by the fact that he had only one of the same type left, and then slotted the panel back into place as he reset that section, which plinked back to life. He stared down at the console, then looked back into the rest of the cockpit, then let his mind wander deeper into the annals of the ship, thinking of every little ‘temporary’ fix or holdover repair.

“God dammit,” he whispered, reaching for the keyboard and pulling it towards him, then plotted a course closer to the wreckage, a small monitor displaying the course that he would take. As he entered the course with a light click of the enter key he felt the ship suddenly shift as it changed course, the light groan that the ship gave out in protest not helping to improve his mood. He got up from his chair, the tired old thing spinning around as he did and marched out of the cockpit, pushing the door stiffly to the side.

His ship wasn’t the largest, being slightly larger than a trailer park home, and in the mind of some, just as sturdy. The floor of the main corridor he walk through was just steel mesh stained with a rainbow of paints covering a writhing mass of pipes and cabling, with rough hewn metal walls, mostly made from steel, but you could see copper peaking through. He strode though the living room he had built, furnished with a rusty fold out table, a pair of worn wooden chairs on magnetic feet along with various old implements, games and guns hung on the walls along with loose cables, pipes and innards-in-name of the ship. He threw his arm into a fridge on the wall to pull out a brown bottle of some drink, what it was really didn’t matter to him so long as it was something to quench his thirst, and then wandered into his bedroom.

It was a small room, his bunk practically wedged in the wall, a set of draws underneath it and a ratty curtain he would pull across the front of it. The walls had a few posters on them and were half painted contract white from an old tub of it he had managed to pinch from a warehouse. It wasn’t quite enough for the whole room however. He walked over to a smallish shelf on the wall and grabbed a square object about the size of a large smartphone and inserted it into a machine. Tapettes they were called, used to record books for the blind, his father had collected them when he went blind, mostly from his great uncle who had the same affliction. He wasn’t blind himself, but he liked the stories, and it was one of the few things his old man could leave him. He switched the thing on, letting it narrate to him the story as he laid in his bunk. The ship would give him an alert when it was close enough, then he would bring them in close himself.

After about two hours and three bottles later, he heard the electronic snap of the alert. He rolled himself out of his bunk, rubbing his eyes as he switched off the machine and put the tapette back into it’s cover. He made his way to the cockpit, dumping the empty bottles into the steel drum of a sink as he went past. He smacked the button on the wall of the cockpit as he went that shut off the alert, the buzzer cutting off mid screech as he slumped himself down into the chair. How he made the steering on this ship, was a method he wasn’t quite happy with, but one he had sunk so much time into that he virulently defended any claims that it was stupid. It involved a valve wheel he claimed was the ‘steering wheel’, which controlled the way the ship faced, then a set of four pedals at his feet that controlled pitch and yaw under the console, made from cut squares of steel. What it left him with was greater struggle than most during any operation of finesse. So, really it suited his personality quite well.

He watched the window as he approached, occasionally flicking his eyes between the three screens around him that showed his other sides, watching for the sign of another vessel waiting to pounce. Nothing seemed to show itself, and the radar seemed to assert the same belief. The wreckage itself was a horrible sight, town to pieces, steel pulled apart like tissue paper, bodies strewn about the darkness, mangled and chewed as if by some wild animal. His eyes flicked about the wreckage, giving brief, tributary, glances to the dead as he went forward to take what they had left for himself. He would expect them to do the same. He gradually approached the source of the signal, a large section of the craft, thrice or more the size of his own ship, jagged and torn at the edges where it had been rent from the body of the spaceship. He spotted a section that seemed like he could junction with it, and pulled the ship closer, all the while checking around for any looming vulture hoping for a two for one.

The ship was docked with the door on the side of the remnant of the ship, the steel corridor slowly hissing as it filled up with air as the man checked over his equipment, fixing a breathing mask on his face, checking his pistol and a small power pack, in case anything needed to be forced open. The door sounded off with a little bell as the display, well, more of a flip clock meant to show the pressure, said it was safe. He unlocked and shoved open the door, and walked down the shaft to the door of the wreckage. The panel beside it, already a dozen more times advanced than what his ship used, declared that the inside was pressurised and safe. He grumbled slightly, re-clipping the power pack back onto his belt as he pulled out his pistol, holding it in one hand as he jabbed at the panel to open it, the door smoothly sliding open in response.

He steeped in and was immediately hit by the low scent of blood. It was faint, old, but present. But, that more than anything meant that it was too late for anyone whose blood that could belong to. He kept walking forward, pulling a torch off his hip as he wandered through the dim corridors, bathed in a grim orange light. The place was quiet, save for the occasional groan of the tired steel, shifting and twisting as he went through. This, in no way made it a more pleasant experience. Then, after shoving open one stiff door he came to a section of the ship that was dark, the floor and walls spotless under torchlight, despite a mess of crates and other things. He looked around with a slightly confused look on his face, looking up and down the chamber.

“Ohh, great and strong human,” a stereotypical effeminate voice suddenly called out, making him jump, “won’t you please help us, we have been trapped on this ship for weeks and are in desperate need of aid! Surely an honourable and dependable one such as yourself can help us!” the voice continued, as it’s owner emerged slightly from the darkness. She was a rather short reptilian woman, the English name for her race being ‘Greater Neidr’, named by the Welsh scientist who first met the race. Specifically, she resembled a hooded cobra, being a teal-green colour, dressed in a short sleeved shirt and flak vest along with a pair of brown shorts, adjusted to make room for her tail of course.

He looked at her for a moment, a slightly confused look on his face before suddenly asking, “’Cass?” The snake stiffened slightly, turning back to look at him, loosing the air of false grandeur she had put on as she studied him.

“Wick?” she asked, surprise clear in her tone, “is that you?”

“Yeah, it is,” he replied slightly exasperatedly as the Neidr looked at him with a pleased expression.

“How have you been my friend!” she yelled, walking over to him, a wide smile showing her fangs.

“Fine, but what’s wrong with your goddam voice?” Wick demanded, putting one finger in his ear as her shrill voice echoed through the corridor.

“Oh, I got one of those voice changer things you swallow, completes the whole damsel in distress act. Pretty cool don’t you think, makes me sound like a high class lady of the estate,” she finished, a smug smile on her face as she pressed the claws of her fingers under her chin.

“I think it’s giving me a headache. Turn it off will you,” Wick replied, wincing slightly as he looked down at her.

“Sorry, can’t turn it off! Work as long as it’s in my body,” she replied with a smirk.

“Then hack it up, it’s agony!”

“No way, this cost me nearly ten grand! I’m not just going to hack it up!” she snapped back, a look of shock-horror on her face, her head pulled back, with her hand on her chest.

“I’ll pay you back, just cough it up!” Wick replied, a strained look on his face as he looked at her.

“No!” she snapped Wick grabbing her by the midriff.

“Cough the thing up!”

“Never!” Cass called back defiantly, just as Wick jerked his arms, making her suddenly cough up a small tablet sized pink device, which shattered on the floor and pieces skittered off in every direction. Wick dropped her onto her feet, a look of relief breaking across his face, an almost heavenly expression of peace. “You Dick!” She snapped, punching him in the side, making him wince slightly as the wind was nocked out of him.

“Sorry, but that voice really hurt. I could feel myself getting a migraine,” rubbing his temples a he replied, annoyed Cass looked up at him.

“That was expensive you ass!” she snapped back, now with her original voice, which was far softer on the ear. She spoke with a British accent, a lot of greater neidr did, something about the soft ‘t’s and such working well with their dental structure, so they defaulted into that voice when speaking in English.

“I’ll pay you back, promise…” he responded dismissively, looking around slightly. “Why are you here anyway? I didn’t see your ship anywhere near here so you couldn’t have been salvaging.” He asked, turning down to the fussing woman, who suddenly took on a smug look.

“Ah, no, there’s nothing to salvage here. ‘S been picked clean, the wreckage is actually waaaay old.” She responded, knocking over a metal crate with one foot as she spoke, the empty box clattering to punctuate her point. “But, I found a way to activate the aid beacon and mess with the timer saying how long it’s been signalling for! So, I jus’ wait in here, throw up the whole damsel in distress act while my partner come up in my ship and robs ‘em blind, then we scarper before they get wise!” she finished grandly, thrusting her fist up into the air proudly.

“Really? I couldn’t see anything out there when I came in.” he replied plainly, a disbelieving look on his face.

“That’s because they hid themselves so well! Watch, I’ll call them now.” She replied, pulling out a blocky looking radio thing, about the size of a baseball, and pressing down on a button on the side. “Hey, Alice, come on out, it’s just a friend of mine, but the voice changer broke, so I think we should bail.” In response she was met with static, “Alice, come in, what’s wrong?” Nothing.

Cass was silent for a moment, looking down the corridor, still.

“You got left again,” Wick ejaculated with a sigh.

“I got left again,” Cass agreed snappily, nodding her head.

“And they took your ship!” Wick yelled to himself, throwing his arms up in despair.

“And they took my ship,” Cass again agreed, nodding quickly. Wick put his face in his hand as Cass stared down the other end of the hall, then slowly turned to Wick with a sly expression. “Wiiick?” she began, her voice oozing smarm as she wore a Cheshire smile, a terrifying thing to see a reptile do. He groaned to himself before she could even finish her question.

“You can have the top bunk.”

“Thank you!” She responded in a sing song voice, skipping past him slightly as he gave a world weary sigh.

“So was there really nothing left?” Wick asked, gesturing with his head around the ship.

“Yeah, picked clean long before I came here,” she replied, looking up at the ceiling as they walked forward, “oh! But, I did find these things!” clapping her hands in a rhythm. Suddenly, two dozen small creatures hoped up from the various crates and cervices surrounding the pair and all turned to Wick, making the man jump. They were small things, slightly smaller than a coffee cup, and on second inspection they were not creatures at all, or not wholly so. They were silver with large blue eyes, and a set of four legs staring down at the nervous man. “Neat, huh!?” She burst out excitedly, a wide smile on her face as she stood proudly, puffing out her chest.

“Yeah, sure… What are they?” his voice mixing between confusion and concern as his eyes darted between the various creatures, who in turn cocked their… heads?... at him.

“I don’t know, I haven’t heard about them before, so I took the liberty of naming them! I present to you a lux lacertae, or, a Laux if you prefer. Oh, and the name for a herd of them is a ‘Company’, nothing else uses that!” she finished confidently, her chest still puffed out as she smiled smugly to herself.

“Isn’t that what you call a group of weasels?” Wick replied, his voice strained as he was dealing with a pair of the lauxes jumping on him, the small creatures weighing far more than their size suggested.

“No, that’s a business,” she corrected, plucking one of the lauxes off Wick and plopping it on the ground quickly.

“Oh, then what does the name mean then?”

“Light lizard!”

“Light lizards? Why did you call them that?” he asked, a confused tone clear in his voice. She smiled at him, then turned to the side and pointed at the wall with one talon.

“Fire!” she suddenly shouted, then suddenly all of the lauxes turned to the wall, their eyes’ glowing brighter then all firing off a myriad of crystal blue lasers into the wall, the steel turning white hot and slopping off the wall like fresh paint. Wick looked at her flabbergasted, his mouth hanging open slightly, he rubbed his eyes slightly, then looked back at what had just happened and at the creatures again.

He was silent for a moment before he suddenly said, “I suppose that’s how you were going to defend yourself then.” Not needing an answer.

“Yup! Anyway, lets get back to your ship. It’s fucking freezing!” Cass yelled, storming past him, followed by the company of silver creatures, like ducklings following their… No, this metaphor doesn’t work at all does it. Wick pinched the bridge of his nose, staring up at the ceiling, taking a long breath before he spun on his heel and headed back to his ship.  

“I wish I hadn’t gotten up today. Tomorrow would have been nicer. I could have dealt with this tomorrow,” he muttered to himself, sighing slightly. He met her at the airlock, the lauxes having stacked themselves on top of each other, forming a tower of the silver things while others danced around the floor. He looked down at them, unsure whether to be nervous, or to find it fascinating. He snapped open the door to his ship, forcing it open with Cass’s help as the latter went inside, leaving him to shut it after they had all gone in, the lauxes walking in in their little tower, one of them giving him a mock salute as they went past. He stared after them for a moment with a blank expression before shutting the door. “Maybe next week, yeah, that would have been better. Yeah, that’s it.”

He walked into the living room to see Cass stretching her arms, a look of relief on her face, “ah that’s better! It was freezing in there! I could barely keep my eyes open!” grabbing a tin mug from the cupboard as she spoke and pouring her self a drink, swiftly drinking it down. She ran the cup under the faucet again to wash it then shoved it back into the cupboard as Wick went into the cockpit. She followed him in after, finding the second chair nearer to the back of the cockpit and sitting down in that, having to come at it from the side so she could get her tail in. She noticed that he had chopped the second headrest support off like she asked and smiled to herself slightly at that but didn’t mention it. She looked around the cockpit, her eyes lingering slightly at the various relics he had used to build it before she finally clicked her tongue. “Honestly Wick, you really need to upgrade some of this stuff,” looking at the other side of the cockpit covered with a series of pipes all bearing various analogue valves, and a spattering of digital ones ranging from LED’s nixie tubes or plasma display screens wedges in wherever he could fit them, wrapped in blue electrical tape and solder.

“I can’t afford to. Besides, it all works doesn’t it, so I like it!” he attested, swivelling his chair slightly as he edged the ship away from the wreckage, a screw pinging out from the collar of the chair leg as he did. “Ignore that, that screw wasn’t important.”

“Don’t you still use VHS tapes for your CCTV system?” Cass asked slyly, leaning back in her chair.

“Not VHS… It’s V2000, it has a much longer play time and doesn’t need video tracking,” he responded flatly, Cass guffawed in response, “oh shut up! At least I have a ship!”

“Yeah, sorry, sorry,” she replied, half attempting to stifle her laughter. They went silent after that, leaving each other to their own thoughts as Wick maneuvered the ship through the debris field.

“So, are you still with that animator guy then? The American one,” Wick asked, not looking at her.

“Girl now, came out as trans a while ago,” she replied plainly, pulling a game console from the table beside her and flicking it on with a light electronic jingle.

“Oh, still with her then or…”

“I was for a while, but I couldn’t manage it. She always made everything about herself, and always accused me of never caring about her enough. So I just left. It wasn’t like she loved me before either, they loved that I liked her. She wanted that attention to shore herself up,” she finished plainly, leaning back in the chair as her fingers skittered across the buttons on the device, her old ‘save’ data still on the thing from last time. “I don’t see why mammals all seem to place so much importance about some blobs of fat on your chest anyway. Why’s it matter?”

“Don’t ask me, I don’t have an answer for you. Anyway, have you met anyone new since then?” he asked idly, watching the darkness out in front of him, flicking his eyes between the various monitors.

“Well, I was thinking of asking Alice,” she replied, Wick groaning in sympathy, “so I think I’m just gonna take a break for a while. Unless you,”

“Nope!” Wick snapped brusquely

“Fair enough,” Cass responded with a chuckle, then threw her arms up, “yes! I just got a rare item! I’ve been waiting ages for this!” Pulling the console close to her chest a glowing smile on her face. She giggled to herself for a moment before calming down. After about another five minutes they were out of the field and Wick turned over to Cass.

“So, which station were you and Alice based at then?” Pulling the keyboard closer to him as he asked, turning towards her. Cass lowered her game for a moment and looked up at the ceiling with a thinking expression.

“I think it was St Edmund Station,” she replied, not quite sure.

“St Edmund, who’s that?” Wick asked as he pulled up a ring-bound book, flicking through it for the name, and coordinates of the place.

“Last Christian King of East Anglia apparently. The guy who built the station lived in Norfolk apparently.”

“Oh,” Wick responded, only half listening as he flicked through the book till he found what he was looking for and then typed in the coordinates, the monitor displaying the path that the ship would take. “There we are,” he said, slapping down the enter key triumphantly, feeling the ship jerk as he did so, “we are on our way.” Leaning back in his chair as he spoke.

“That’s good, how long do you think it’ll take?” Cass asked, peaking over the edge of her game at Wick.

“Couple hours,” he mumbled out, yawning as he seemed to burrow himself into the tattered old chair. “Food’s in the fridge if you want it, just leave the cake. I’ve been saving that,” he muttered out, closing his eyes, for a moment.

“Thank you,” Cass replied in a sing-song voice, making her way to the fridge.

“Jus’ don’t shed everywhere!” he called to her, getting a mocking laugh in return. The ship sped onward on to the station, carrying the pirate and the salvager forward, both quite unaware of the third, well technically third to twenty-sixth, passengers and the trouble they would drag the two into.

To be continued, maybe. Depends on the time.   

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