#starlike spark

[gardenofchrome]

Chapter 4 Preview for 'Starlike Spark'

The bright light makes his hair glow like liquid mercury. The man was clad in boxing trunks, allowing the howling spectators to see the coarse muscles rippling through his skin, reminding him of those statues of Greek gods he sees in art museums. His facial expression was set, reddish eyes tracking his opponent like an animal hunting its prey.

It.was.him.

Read 'Starlike Spark' here

#for you #transformers #autobots #cybertron #transformers as humans #humanformers #orion pax #megatron #megatronus #optimus prime #earth #coffee shop au #lgbtq #gay #action #adventure #fighting #starlike sparks #cybertronian #ariel #elita one #jazz #jazz transformers #soundwave transformers #fanfic #fan fiction #ao3 #mecha #robots #giant robots

[crepes-suzette-373]

I'm suddenly curious if Ichiji's and Niji's attacks "Sparking Figure" and "Henry Blazer" were actually wrong. I don't know if there's ever an official spelling from Oda-sensei, so if there was and I'm wrong, okay. It's just that there's other words that seems more fitting for the name.

So, Sparking Figure is written like this:

"Figure" is spelled as "figaa" フィガー. Yeah, this can be "figure", like dance figure, but フィガー can also be the transliteration of the French word "figer". Among other things, it means "paralyse/render immobile". I feel like this makes more sense, especially since he's trying to stop Katakuri there. A "paralysis" attack seems like a logical move here.

Robin's attack names combines French and Spanish terms (e.g Seis Fleur) so Ichiji's attack name being a mix of English and French words is not impossible.

Also, both this and Niji's Henry Needle oddly enough don't have the kanji version of the name, unlike Sparking Valkyrie or Henry Blazer. I'm not sure if sensei is trying to hide something/playing games or if it's no biggie.

According to the French-Japanese dictionary, the explanation for "figer" includes an example that alludes to ice freezing. I've been jokingly saying "What if Ichiji's spark powers is just from his suit, and his real augmented power is water/ice", and this dictionary entry reminded me of that. That is just a joke, though.

Anyway, about Henry Blazer:

What I wondered is that maybe this is actually meant to be Henry Blazar, not Blazer. Blazer and Blazar sounds the same in Japanese, though the katakana spelling is slightly different to distinguish them.

The kanji for "Blazer/Blazar" is "light sword", and the katakana used was the one that is meant to be "blazer". While "blaze" does also imply something bright, I just think "blazar" fits better despite the Japanese spelling, since a blazar is described as: "An extremely bright, starlike object characterized by rapid changes in luminosity and a flat spectrum".

Plus, there is also the Ultraman Blazar, and it fits the kooky action hero theme they've got going.

#vinsmoke brothers #conspiracy theory #vinsmoke niji #vinsmoke ichiji #germa 66 #one piece

[ckret2]

Lord Loveless versus the Arrow Ace

A few years ago I contributed a short story to an asexuality zine:

A showdown between a cruel, heartless villain who wants to destroy the world and all that's good in it—Lord Loveless—and a hero—the Arrow Ace—who's been searching for someone else like herself... and is furious that all she's found is him.

It's a satire/conflicted love letter to cheesy cartoony villains who are "too evil to comprehend good, kindness, and love"—and might be the only approximation of the aro & ace experience a kid sees. ... But it's also as goofy & corny as physically possible. Enjoy.

####

On one side of the chasm dividing the massive stone cavern: Lord Loveless, tattered cape billowing with magic currents, the naked skull beneath his black crown lit green by the starlike spell floating above.

On the other side: Sapphire, gripping her axes; Blair, maintaining the shimmering spherical shield protecting them both; and a half dozen of Lord Loveless's minions, blocking the exits and surrounding the shield.

"You're too late," Lord Loveless crowed. "Even if you weren't trapped, powerless before my superior forces—"

(Blair gave one of the minions a skeptical look, lurched toward them as though to attack, and smirked when they flinched several steps back.)

"—my spell has progressed too far for any lesser a sorcerer than I to reverse it! You can try to put one of your pretty little shields around it, Claire—"

"Blair."

Lord Loveless waved his magic staff dismissively. "But it will pop like the bubble it is. And then, you're all doomed—along with the rest of the world!" He cackled maniacally.

Sapphire blew a raspberry.

Lord Loveless's laughter cut off. Even without a face to speak of, he managed to give her a peevish look. With a tone of mock indulgence, he said, "I take it you'd like to make your last words?"

"Last words before we reduce you to bone toothpicks?" Sapphire hefted one axe threateningly. "Sure, how about this: why?! Why destroy the world? You don't get power, you don't get riches. When there's nothing left, what's left for you?"

"Oh! Hmm." Lord Loveless settled the butt of his staff on the stone floor and thoughtfully tapped a bony finger on its green orb. Finally, he said, "As a general policy I don't explain my dastardly plans to my enemies, but I suppose there's no risk in explaining my dastardly motives, is there?"

A couple of minions shrugged. One nodded encouragingly.

"Very well! In that case: what I get out of this is..." He paused dramatically. "Absolutely nothing! Haa! I don't do this for a purpose! I'm evil, it's what I do! It's this whole thing!"

"Then don't be evil," Blair said.

Lord Loveless turned to stare at her as if she'd grown a second head. "No," he said. "I'm gonna."

"Well, why?"

"It's in my nature," he said, with a scornful tilt of his head as if to stare down his non-existent nose at the two heroes. "I was born an inherently villainous being. I don't have your natural human instincts, you see. Affection." He scoffed. "Love!" He scoffed harder. "The mere intimate, 'pleasurable' touch of flesh disgusts me. So much so, I got rid of the issue completely!" He brandished one bony arm demonstratively. "So you tell me, heroes—how could a creature who scorns the very touch of his 'fellow' humans be anything but evil—"

One of Lord Loveless's minions cried, "Are you kidding me?!"

While Lord Loveless watched in amazement, the minion tossed off her hood and unclasped her robe, revealing light leather armor that matched Sapphire’s.

Sapphire swore quietly under her breath. Blair groaned.

"Oh, you!" Lord Loveless angrily stamped his staff on the ground; acid green sparks fluttered from the orb. "I knew there was supposed to be a third one of you!" He gestured to his remaining minions. “Get h—!”

Before he could finish the order, Blair burst their protective bubble, knocking one minion to the edge of the chasm and sending another running to the edge to help the fallen one back up; Sapphire knocked one unconscious with the butt of an axe and intimidated another into fleeing; and the new arrival drew a bow and arrow from under her cloak and pointed it at the last remaining minion until they too raised their hands in surrender, backed toward the entrance tunnel, and ran.

Then Sapphire turned toward the team’s third member. “Oriana, what happened to the sneak attack? We had a whole plan...”

"No." Oriana slid the arrow back in its quiver and held up a finger to Sapphire. "No, it's personal now."

Sapphire shrugged helplessly. "All right, okay. Have at him."

Oriana nodded and turned a sharp gaze toward Lord Loveless.

Lord Loveless watched in dismay as the last of his minions fled, then snapped, “Oh, you think you’re gonna get me with that? You’re gonna hit me with an arrow?” He somehow made a raspberry sound without lips. He drew a circle in front of him, briefly illuminating the otherwise-invisible magic shield protecting him from attack.

But instead of drawing another arrow, Oriana planted her hands on her hips, jutted her chin out, and said, “Your motive is stupid.”

Lord Loveless canted his head in disbelief. “Excuse you?”

“I’m the same as you! But I’m over here being a hero! What’s your excuse?"

“What?” Electric purple light briefly flickered on in his black sockets. “No. That can’t be right. You, with the do-gooders? You can’t be the same—”

“Do you hate hugs.”

Lord Loveless hesitated. “Yeah,” he said. “What, that’s—isn’t that an automatic evil trait?”

Oriana furiously gestured at herself. “Apparently not,” she said. “Think kissing is gross?”

“I didn’t get rid of my lips because I thought it’d make using a straw easier!"

Oriana paused. “Kind of extreme reaction, but we’re on the same page. When kids your age started flirting, did you use to, like, pick someone to decide you have a crush on?”

He was silent for a long moment. “Huh.”

“Do you hate it when two characters in a play who obviously hate each other suddenly fall into bed? And we’re just supposed to believe they’ve had invisible sexual tension the whole time and that makes up for the constant fighting?”

“Yes!” Lord Loveless pointed emphatically at her. “Yes! Don’t—why don’t people who actually feel attraction think that’s weird? Do they actually work like that?”

Oriana turned toward Sapphire and Blair for their opinions. They shuffled on their feet self-consciously.

Sapphire said, “It does bug me when the guy’s got no redeeming qualities?”

Blair winced sheepishly. “Honestly, it—depends on how hot the actor and actress are.”

Lord Loveless scoffed.

Oriana went on: “Do you ever wonder why people get, like, depressed if they haven’t had a date in a while?”

“Yeah?!” He flung up a hand in bafflement. “What is with that, don’t they have hobbies?”

She made almost the exact same baffled gesture. “I don’t know! Like, hang out with friends, go fly a kite, something!���

“So!” Lord Loveless drew himself up, hefting his staff into the air once more. “You do understand! You, too, have felt that dark emptiness, that brokenness, that wrathful hatred of all others—”

“No?” Oriana cut in. “Literally never? Ever? None of those things? Buddy, you have problems, okay, and literally none of those problems are connected to not wanting to screw.”

“Oh really!” Lord Loveless rolled his non-existent eyes toward the progressing spell above them. “Because they sure seem connected!”

“Why?” Oriana asked, with enough real curiosity in her tone that Lord Loveless looked back down to study her face. “What, did—did people make you feel like that, like you’re empty or broken or whatever? Or did you decide that all on your own? Because both are sad in wildly different ways. Just—who raised you?”

For a moment, he didn’t respond; long enough that Blair started glancing nervously at the spell above again and Sapphire moved to Oriana’s other side, prepared to flank her if they launched an attack.

But then, finally, in a voice small and awkward and human, he said, “I had this... mentor. For seven years. He was all about the power of love. He was all determined to wake up my capacity for love, and when he didn’t...”

Sapphire and Blair’s faces lit up in surprise at the same time Oriana’s fell.

Suspiciously, Lord Loveless said, “You’ve met.”

Sapphire said, “He told us how to find you.”

Blair added, “It’s how I met them. I’ve been training under him the last three years.”

Lord Loveless grunted. “Have you,” he said spiritlessly. “I thought that bubble of yours was familiar.”

“He taught me everything I know. I love him like a second father.” Blair paused. “But...” She glanced at Oriana.

Oriana had been standing there with her face screwed up in distaste while waiting for the other two to finish. “Yeah, he’s kind of a judgy jerkwad, isn’t he.”

Lord Loveless let his staff settle on the ground again. “No one’s ever called my mentor a jerkwad before,” he said. “I... assumed it was just me.”

“I’m sure he’s a great teacher if you wanna learn how to channel love magic or whatever—but if you tell him you don’t have any?” Oriana laughed bitterly. “Ohh, we didn’t get along.”

Blair half reached for Oriana. “He’s not right about everything. You know I don’t think...”

Oriana nodded quickly. “Yeah. You’re fine. We’re cool.”

Lord Loveless silently regarded the conversation, his shoulders sagging beneath his cloak, as if a heavy weight was beginning to slide off of them. “Well—well. Well... Well, why do you fight for good, then? Without love, why bother?”

Oriana laughed in disbelief. “I don’t have to love people to not want the planet to die, holy crap! You really do sound like his student.”

He visibly winced, the joints between his bones creaking together, like of all the accusations that had been flung at him that one hurt the most.

“I can just like people? And want good things to happen to people I like? And—enjoy the planet in one piece? The power of love isn’t necessary, I’ve gotten by just fine with the power of basic compassion! You don’t need to find a soulmate, or—or—” she attempted a crude pantomime with her hands that made Blair bite her lip in silent laughter and Sapphire quickly look away, “—or mash parts to feel a basic connection to other human beings.”

“But it stops others from feeling a connection to you, doesn’t it?” Lord Loveless demanded—an edge of desperation in his tone. “I recognize the uniforms on you two—Lunar Archers, aren’t you?”

“Yeah?” Oriana said, a tad defensive, but not quite sure where he was aiming yet. “Both of us.” She nudged Sapphire. “We met there.”

“A-ha. I know what the sash missing from your uniform means. I can guess why you”—he tipped his staff toward Sapphire—“aren’t still in the archers’ ranks.” Sapphire hefted her axes in a shrug of acknowledgment. “But why aren’t you, o arrow ace?”

Oriana grimaced in irritation. “Okay. Right. Yeah, okay, I signed up because their target audience is all, ‘women who cast aside the duties of marriage to men and take up the mantle of chastity,’ and I was like, ‘hey, my people,’ and then it turned out that was a two-hundred-year-old euphemism for ‘we’re a bunch of lesbians and this is the easiest way to explain that when nobody's talking about that yet.’ So, y’know...” She jerked one shoulder self-consciously. “Didn’t fit in.”

Victorious, Lord Loveless crowed, “So they cast you out!”

“What? No. Phire and I left voluntarily. We’re still both in good standing with the Archers. We’re welcome at the camps. We hang out with them on holidays. They still let me use their magic bows and arrows and everything.” She drew an arrow out of her quiver and pointed at the tip, faintly sparkling yellowish-white. “Check it out. Lightning.”

Lord Loveless took a moment to process that. “They didn’t turn their backs on you,” he said. “Why didn’t they turn their backs on you? What did you do?"

“I—acted like a decent person? And I didn’t peel the skin off my face? And they didn’t turn their backs on me because they’re not jerks—unlike whoever you’ve been hanging out with, you misanthrope! Make some better friends!”

“I don’t believe that,” he snarled. “Nobody would treat you any better than I was treated. Nobody.”

The irritation on Oriana’s face deepened to rage. She shot a quick glance over toward Sapphire—just the nearest of her friends that Lord Loveless was slandering.

“If it was really so fantastic, you wouldn’t have left. There’s not a chance. I wouldn’t have left! So why would you—”

Furiously, Oriana shouted, “I left to find you!”

“What?”

"I went looking for people like me! They were fine, but I wanted to find somebody I could relate to! But all this time I've been looking, there's just—just you!" Oriana gestured furiously toward Lord Loveless. "Is that it?! Are you the best I'll ever find? Is the only one who can understand me—this? You aren't even human anymore!"

“But—”

Lord Loveless fell silent as an arrow sailed by him—far enough not to bounce off his protective wards, near enough to catch his attention. It clattered on the cavern wall with a burst of sparks and a tiny thunderclap. “I deserve better,” Oriana snarled, voice trembling with fury, aiming another arrow at him. “I deserve better than for you to be the only thing I have to look up to! I deserve better than a villain and a monster!”

Lord Loveless’s jaw opened, then clacked shut without his finding anything to say. Blair put a hand on Oriana’s shoulder, whispered something to her; Oriana nodded jerkily, put the arrow away, and slung her bow back over her shoulder; Sapphire lightly punched Oriana’s upper arm and Oriana punched hers back.

“You’re lonely,” Lord Loveless said. Oriana flinched. “Even flanked by your so-called friends, you’re alone.”

“Not ‘so-called,’” Oriana said firmly. “They mean the world to me! We’d do anything for each other! But...”

A world of things Blair and Sapphire would never quite understand hung in the air after that “but.”

Lord Loveless didn’t press. He just nodded understandingly, once more the master of this cavern. "We truly are alike," he murmured. "Probably more alike than even you think." It wasn't a gloat, wasn't a taunt, not like it should have been; his supernaturally strident voice was unusually compassionate. "We're the same, you and I. We shouldn't be enemies. You could have easily ended up like me. You still could. It's not too late for you to join me—"

"No," Oriana snapped. She stomped to the edge of the chasm separating her team from Lord Loveless and held out a hand across it. "You join us."

Sapphire and Blair gaped at her. Lord Loveless reeled back, an offended hand splayed across his ribs. "I beg your pardon?"

She continued stubbornly extending her hand. "I was never going to end up like you. Who does that, who goes ‘oh, I don’t wanna bone the other gross snotty kids in my town, guess I’d better murder people over it’? Nobody does that. You should have ended up like me. So turn that thing off and come on."

"But..." Lord Loveless looked at her, then at the giant green world-ending spell floating over the chasm between them. Then, finally, shoulders sagging, he waved his staff. The light above dissipated, sucked back into the orb. The only light illuminating the cavern was the orb and a flickering blue and pink flame Blair hastily summoned up.

"Hell," Lord Loveless grumbled. He almost absent-mindedly summoned up a pathway of floating stones and trudged across the chasm.  "I don't know what I would've done with myself after ending reality as we know it anyway. But if this is horrible, I'm gonna destroy the world later."

The trio of heroes stepped back from the edge to give him room to stand in front of them. They glared up at him warily. He glared down at them imperiously.

Then Blair wordlessly pointed at his staff.

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t get to keep that,” Blair said. “You destroy things with it.”

“You people go around taking on baddies, don’t you? What if we’re attacked, surely you don’t plan to leave me defenseless.”

“I know you can do enough magic to defend yourself without the orb. Hand it over.”

Lord Loveless sighed noisily, but held it out to Oriana. “I don’t trust you with it,” he muttered to Blair. “You could do stuff with it.”

Blair shrugged. Oriana took the staff.

Sapphire wordlessly pointed at his crown.

“What? No! This is mine.” He clamped a bony hand on the crown. “It’s not even magic, it just looks cool! I’m keeping it.”

Sapphire clicked her tongue in disappointment.

Together, they headed up the tunnel out of the cavern and toward the sunlight.

#aromantic #aromanticism #asexuality #asexual #pride month #my writing #original fiction

[seashaper]

> [ A shaky camera focuses on a blurry set of moving shapes above the surface of the New York Harbor, nothing to be seen but splashing until the image sharpens. A violet-skinned tiefling comes into view, uncloaked but dressed in black and gripping a tall, silvery staff, spiraled at the top into a large, shining blue spherical crystal framed in amethysts and a starlike ring. They appear to be floating several feet above the water some distance away from the huge sea serpent, silver scales glinting a similar shade to Rook’s staff as its long coils twist through the water. It rushes towards them, tons of violent aquatic beast aiming to snap them right up. With a flash of blue light from the crystal, the wind whips up around the pair, sending Rook’s sea-blue scarf blowing dramatically around them, and the water churns beneath them both into an increasingly violent vortex. Halfway through its lunge the creature is dragged back towards the center of the whirlpool, and emits a bubbling screech in protest. As it starts to try and writhe its way free, the sorcerer makes a complicated motion with the end of their staff; with another intense blue glow; from the water, shedding spray off of its form as it materializes at a size similar to the serpent, rises a shimmering dragon covered in faceted white and transparent crystal scales, shining like opal in the misty morning light. The sea serpent screeches at its sudden rival and the dragon roars right back with its toothy jaw open wide enough to expel what looks like rings of heat lines, curved light in the air that moves in a cone heavily impacting the serpent and much of the water around it. A massive spray shoots into the air on contact with the harbor, concealing the fight for a few moments with sparkling mist, until the view is once again clear, and the crystalline dragon can be seen gripping the serpent in its claws, lifting it partially above the water to further expose it and getting bitten once in the process, though it doesn’t seem to phase the magically conjured creature. Once it’s somewhat restrained, stunned from the breath of pure force leveled against it, the tiefling sorcerer raises their staff once more to point carefully at the center of mass, as much as that can be a thing for a serpentine form. Around the amethyst-studded star at the head crackles violet flashes of light, gathering up into a point before firing in a massive bolt directly at and partially through the huge beast, cauterizing the burned-out hole behind it. The serpent screams and goes limp, though still lives and shifts weakly. Once it stops its struggling, the dragon reaches down for Rook, and they step onto their summon’s hand, to be carried towards their opponent. Holding the staff aside, they reach out their gloved hand, this time, towards its heaving scales, and violet sparks flow through their fingers into its body. The effect is unapparent, but they’ve healed some of the internal injuries left by their dragon’s force breath, enough for the creature to live. The dragon gently sets it down in the water, and, both a little more lively and having thoroughly learned its lesson, the sea serpent darts away through the water, across and out of the harbor, it’s sharp fins cutting through the surface until it disappears. Rook just stands there, watching it go, until a few people cheer from the shore and their horned head whips around to finally notice the crowd, as the video ends. ]

#Crafting Incantations (ic) #action #viewed ic

[libidomechanica]

Such pleasure

—And as she well? And steam; or legs were starlike, sparks, with the mould, broom town one to hearts as curtseying in the night of Albany. Became downe, is shalt steady for the world. Said the heart as were to die! Went—and shore. I mourning; the stolen last an open—and strong house, reliuen now my brake in a temple Kurd away, and bribed chapel beloved, with the wild clip my wife.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #193 texts #rispetto

[cezulian]

Thinking about how Celes and Ishimaru are literally the personifications of yin and yang down to their names (⚫️Yin = night, the Moon and Celestia = Celestial = astral, starlike, the night sky; ⚪️Yang = day, summer, the Sun and Kiyotaka = “a myriad of pure Summers”) and that’s some gay ass Nicholas Sparks type shit get a room already lol

#Celesishi #Ishiles

[incorrectprodigalsonquotes]

Carved in the Cradle Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Dani bit back an amused smile at the sight of Malcolm Bright fidgeting like a shy preschooler talking in front of the class for the first time. She had a feeling that if Jessica ever showed Bright’s childhood photos, she would find that he had that exact same look since he was a kid. All fidgeting with the sleeves of his uniform and luminous eyes too big for his face.

“Something you wanted to say, Bright?” 

Normally Dani would cringe at the thought of using the almost singsong lilt her voice had taken on, but he was ridiculously easy to tease.

“U-um...” Malcolm cleared his throat. His face like it was on fire and he knew it wasn’t because of the tea he’d just had. “So my mother sort of--well, demanded that I show up at her gala in a couple of days.”

Dani raised an eyebrow, unsurprised. Jessica Whitly was a societal force to be reckoned with and it was little wonder that even her son, who dealt with killers on a daily basis, was unable to say no to her. 

“So I gathered.” 

Bright being jittery was normal. The constant fidgeting, the mundane rambling, the sheer awkwardness was wired into him from a young age if Gil’s stories of a young Bright were all true, but he seemed almost… nervous? 

It didn’t make sense to her. Sure, he normally said some weird things and he had an unfortunate habit of sticking his foot in his mouth, but it was benign for the most part. It should’ve alarmed her about how comfortable she was around him, but the warmth of the tea she had still lingered, making everything about the already odd night pleasantly hazy. 

“She also wanted me to bring a date.” Malcolm let out a wry chuckle, his hand rubbing the back of his neck almost sheepishly. “I mean I’m already bringing Isabella as a sort of fun-sized baby date given that Mother's so taken with her, but it’d be nice to have a friend there a-and--”

“Bright.” 

Dani’s voice slowed into a low drawl as she took a step closer, her face inscrutable save for the glimmer of laughter in her eyes. She had to admit, it was pretty cute to see him so flustered.

“Are you asking me to be your date?”

“W-well, I--” 

The instant he cleared his throat, she could see a change in his demeanour. The determined set of his jaw, the squared shoulders as he drew himself to his full height, the clarity in his eyes. It briefly reminded her of something that Edrisa had said about the change that came with Clark Kent taking off his glasses. 

“I just thought it would be nice to take you to a fancy party where you wouldn’t have to arrest somebody and just enjoy yourself.”

“So it has nothing to do with you wanting to see me in a dress again?”

A teasing grin spread across Dani’s face as she tipped her head to the side. The sight of it made Malcolm’s confidence practically fly out the window, leaving him rambling so fast that he almost bit his tongue a few times. 

“Of course, there’s no obligation for you to say yes.” He nervously ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. “It’s just that you’re the only person I could think of when Mother said to bring a date. I know it’s probably not your thing, but--”

“Okay.”

“W-wait, what?” If his eyes got any wider, he could pass for a Disney Princess, all round and uncertain and saccharine sweet.

“Okay,” Dani’s eyes sparkled, the corners of them crinkling as she beamed at him. “I’ll go with you.”

“Really?” Malcolm’s anxiety practically melted away as he let out a relieved chuckle. “You don’t have to.”

“I know.” Dani nodded, “But a girl needs a night off for dancing every now and then--”

She nearly took a step back as he beamed at her, nearly as bright as the sun itself, the livewire tension in his body just melting away and it wasn’t until she caught the scent of bergamot and old leather that she realized what was happening.

Was Bright… hugging her? 

“Okay,” His voice was muffled, his face buried into her shoulder, “that’s amazing!” 

Dani couldn’t help but burst out laughing as she absently patted his back, feeling more like she had an armful of excitable puppy rather than gangly profiler. 

"Well, what are friends for, right?"

“Seriously,” Malcolm pulled away just enough so he could look at her, his arms still around her, “I owe you big time!”

“Bright--”

“No, I mean it,” he insisted with a shake of his head, still grinning ear to ear as if she had just given him the secret to all of life’s mysteries. “Anything you want, I’m yours for the week.”

Dani knew he would probably say something like that. Malcolm Bright was the kind of man who would go to the moon and back for the people he cared about, but she was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that she had become one of those people.

She briefly considered having him buy her fancy tea blends every day for a year or getting tickets to a sold out performance at the New York Ballet, but he seemed so genuinely happy that she accepted that she could only think of one thing that seemed right.

“You can start with those waffles you promised in the morning.”

(~**~)                 (~**~)                  (~**~)                  (~**~)

The bed was comfortable. Too comfortable. 

Everything in the room was too tidy, too organized. The high end furniture gave Dani flashbacks of playing Tetris at the local arcade with her cousins, all neat blocks fitting together. The only things in the room that looked out of place were Dani’s clothes on a nearby loveseat and her duffle bag of extra clothes on the vanity. There was no real character to the room she was in, no personal touch. 

Bright was right. These rooms were just like hotel rooms. At least there were silk pillowcases so she didn’t have to worry about her hair. Dani tossed and turned before she took her phone off the nightstand next to her and checked the time.

4:42 AM.

She stared up at the ceiling, deep in thought with a slight frown. When she was a kid, she would jump out of bed in the middle of the night to see what was on TV so early in the morning, curled up on the couch with her blanket wrapped around her like a cape. But it wasn’t like she could do that now. 

This not being her home aside, Bright’s TV was way too big to subtly turn on and just watch with the captions. The high definition alone would be enough to wake both him and Isabella.

Then again…

Bright could be awake right now. Maybe he could use some company. She could just sneak downstairs and check in on--

Before she could make her decision, she faintly heard a high pitched squeal coming from downstairs. She absently let her hair down from her pineapple updo and made use of the fluffy white robe that was hanging in the closet before heading down. No one needed to see her in short shorts and a thin nightshirt.

What she saw made her stop at the foot of the stairs. 

She found Bright on the ground with his legs tucked under him, a wide awake Isabella lying on a fuzzy blanket with numerous toys strewn about around them.

Wait.

Was he wearing glasses?

Dark thick frames that were so close to slipping down Malcolm’s nose as he sat with Isabella with a bunch of toys and blankets around her. It was unexpectedly cute. Something about those glasses stirred up a bit of fascination for stripped down, barebones Bright in the early hours of the morning-- 

She mentally shook her head. It was probably just her groggy mind that was thinking that though. Bright wasn’t even her type anyways, no matter how mesmerizing his eyes were.

Malcolm tried lulling Isabella to sleep again, but the little girl just kept smacking plushies in his face and blowing raspberries, her face crinkled into a happy grin. Dani bit back a laugh when she saw how Malcolm couldn’t help but smile at the baby girl as he gently grasped a chubby fist. Bright made a front about being strict with Isabella about bedtime, but he really was just a big old marshmallow when it came to babies. 

“Come on, Izzy.” Dani heard Malcolm cajole the baby as the little one batted at his face. “You need to get some sleep or you’ll be cranky. And I don’t think either of us wants to see that.” 

Izzy. 

The nickname was enough to make Dani smile. She was too half asleep to consider that maybe forming a bond with the baby may not be the best idea. Isabella continued to gurgle as her tiny starlike hands patted Malcolm’s face, letting out a high pitch giggle when she managed to grab his nose. 

“Izzy,” he whined, inciting even more giggling from the little girl, “Could you let go of my nose please? I kind of need to breathe and contrary to what lolo Gil thinks, I’d like to keep breathing.”

His nasally voice did nothing to stop the laughter coming from the baby.

Malcolm was removing Isabella’s hand when he heard a tiny laugh from behind him. He turned to see Dani on the stairs, wrapped in a fluffy robe with her arms crossed, watching in amusement. 

“Sorry,” she murmured, giving him a sheepish smile. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.” 

“No, no,” Malcolm shook his head as he picked up Isabella, “Did we wake you?”

“Hardly. I just couldn’t sleep.”

Dani’s footsteps were steady as she padded her way towards them, making Isabella turn her wide eyes to her with a coo. It still amazed her how much the little girl’s eyes were just like Bright’s, all guileless and moonlike in that shade that wasn’t quite blue or green. 

A smirk took over Malcolm’s face, a playful spark in his eyes as he made room for her to sit.  

“I thought we agreed you should avoid picking up my bad habits.” 

“Pot calling the kettle black, Bright,” she shot back as she took Isabella from him, the little girl wrapped her tiny arms around the detective’s neck, letting out a tiny kitten-like yawn as she rested her head on Dani’s shoulder. 

“For real, have you slept at all?” 

Malcolm shrugged. 

“Bright...” 

Dani narrowed her eyes at him as he simply shrugged, shaking her head as she felt Isabella tangle her hands in her curls. Her face fell into a familiar expression, what JT had affectionately named her ‘why you always lying’ face during the first case they worked together. 

“Got about four hours before I woke up,” he said, giving her a wry grin in return before nodding towards Isabella. “Then little miss night owl got up a few minutes later and I haven’t been able to get her back to sleep.”

Dani couldn’t blame him. She’d heard horror stories of sleepless nights from her oldest sister, but she could already sense Isabella starting to relax in her arms, absently rubbing the little girl’s back. Isabella was already much easier to handle than Dani’s niece and nephew. 

“Well, we’ve already exhausted all your options. Let me try something.”

She didn’t think his eyes could get any bigger, but leave it to Bright to prove people wrong. 

“You don’t have to--”

“You need to rest.” Her tone brokered no room for discussion. “We need to be up at six. Try to sleep for another hour. Make it an even five hours,” she added with a smirk.

“Five isn’t an even number.” Malcolm chuckled as Dani shot him a playful glare, holding his hands up in surrender. “Alright, but if you need help--”

“I’ll wake you, now go to sleep.” She gazed at him with stern eyes, practically daring him to ignore her. “Please.” 

“Well, since you asked so nicely…”

Dani shooed him to bed with a roll of her eyes, her smile tender as she looked back down at Isabella.

Malcolm felt sore and exhausted, barely remembering to take off his glasses as his head hit his pillow. He could hear Dani softly speaking to Izzy as his eyes fell shut.

Wait.

That wasn’t it. She was singing.

“Moon river… Wider than a mile...” 

Dani crooned as she rocked the baby, who seemed to settle down the more she was sung to. Her voice was--

Malcolm already found her voice steadying for his nerves, honeyed contralto with the slightest hint of gravel to it, but her singing?

“I’m crossing you in style someday... Oh dream maker, you heart breaker...” 

He let out a content sigh, having no words for once. He didn’t realize he was smiling as he let Dani’s singing lull him to a gentle sleep. 

“Wherever you’re goin’, I’m goin’ your way...”

And for once, he felt nothing but peace.

(~**~)                 (~**~)                  (~**~)                  (~**~)

“Our prime suspect is Evan Huntington.” 

Malcolm went straight into never-miss-a-detail profiler mode as he fed Isabella her bottle. The baby was kicking one leg with glee as she drank her milk. 

“He had a previous relationship with our victim, who’s vastly different personality-wise from his usual flings and even his own wife. The fact that Arianna doesn’t look like any of them is another inconsistency in his behaviour.”

“So let me get this straight.” JT interrupted with a grimace that Edrisa liked to refer to as his ‘turtle face’. “This guy sleeps with the women at his office…” his nose scrunched up as he tried to process what he heard, “and then to get revenge, his wife sleeps with them too?”

“Yup.” Dani had an identical look on her face and for a second, Malcolm mistook them for siblings. “Gwendolyn even tried to get me and Bright to sleep with her when we interviewed her.”

Gil let out a laugh of disbelief as JT looked like he swallowed a crateful of lemons. 

“Tell me you’re kidding, Powell.”

“I really wish I was,” she snorted before shooting a sly look at Bright. “You should’ve seen Bright's face. You could pinpoint the exact moment his brain started imploding.” 

Malcolm just narrowed his eyes at Dani playfully as she teasingly narrowed her eyes back at him. 

“Does Evan even know about Isabella?” Gil questioned, frowning at the idea of such a bright little girl being raised by someone as flippant and dismissive as a Huntington. 

Malcolm pursed his mouth as he looked down at the baby, who had abandoned her bottle in favour of playing with the grey silk pocket square tucked into his blazer. 

“He knows she exists, but he refuses to acknowledge that he’s her birth father. Arianna was already pretty adamant about keeping him out of Izzy’s life.” 

If he was being honest, he was hoping this little girl couldn’t be taken away by that man. He couldn’t imagine what would happen to Isabella if she were to grow up with that so-called family. Would she be loved? Would she even be taken care of or would she end up neglected like the characters in one of Ainsley’s historical romance novels?

“Who are the Huntingtons anyways?” JT cut in, his arms crossed. “‘Cause all I’m getting from this is bleach blonde one percenters who moonlight as cartoon villains and make deals with the devil.” 

Malcolm and Gil paused at this, giving JT identical sidelong looks in near perfect synchrony. JT rolled his eyes. Gil isn't my dad, my ass.

“Miri and Noa have been really into Gravity Falls lately. The Huntingtons sound just like the Northwests.”

“I'll take your word for it.” Malcolm adjusted Isabella in his arms, letting her sit on his hip as he set aside her bottle. “Let’s just say the Huntingtons are richer than most of New York combined--”

“Which means they get away with murder all the time. That’s why we need to find something concrete that could connect them to Arianna’s murder,” Dani added, “And I don't think Evan Huntington’s willing to take a paternity test.”

Isabella interrupted with a small shriek before playing with Malcolm’s pocket square again. The team let out a laugh at her outburst, Malcolm especially. 

“Exactly. See guys, she gets what we’re saying.” 

As he continued with his profile, Malcolm didn’t notice that Isabella started trying to copy the swift way he gesticulated whenever he talked, nearly in time with him. The sight of her waving her chubby little arms with the same wide, unblinking expression mirrored on Malcolm’s face was adorable. 

Gil couldn’t help but chuckle as he was paying more attention to the baby than the man she was imitating. Just as Malcolm was going to explain more about Evan Huntington, his face suddenly twisted. The older man raised an eyebrow in concern. 

“You okay, Bright? And don’t just brush it off with an ‘I’m fine’.”

“I’m fine. Really,” Malcolm insisted after getting a look from Gil before letting out a chuckle, “It’s more to do with Isabella here and the fact that she needs a change.” Isabella giggled as Malcolm shouldered her diaper bag with practiced ease, “I’ll be right back.”

“Just be glad you’re not dealing with two of them at once!” 

JT called out as Malcolm left the room, much to Dani and Gil’s amusement.  

“You think you’re done, but then the other one needs changing,” he grumbled. “And it doesn’t help when they look the same so you don't remember which one you just changed.”

“At least yours are both girls,” Dani quipped, the corner of her mouth tilting up as she remembered. “Mona kept confusing her kids for months and she had one of each.” 

 (~**~)                (~**~)                  (~**~)                  (~**~)

When Malcolm returned, he was surprised to find that Edrisa had joined them. 

“Bright!” She lit the second she saw him. “Right on time!”

He chuckled as he placed Isabella in her stroller and gave her a few toys to distract her. He glanced at Dani for a second before doing a double take, his eyes comically wide.

“Wait,” he managed to choke out, his mouth suddenly dry. “What’s happening here?”

Jessica might have drilled the idea of being a gentleman into him, but even that didn’t stop him from staring at the corset that was hugging Dani’s slim frame. It was a more subtle design than most, but the champagne silk and delicate gold embroidery against her deep blue shirt highlighted her dark hair and made her olive skin practically glow. 

The only thing jarring this image was the gaping hole in the corset just below Dani’s sternum. 

“We found Arianna’s corset in the dumpster outside her building,” JT cut in, looking almost amused at the way Bright was looking at Dani. “Seems our killer didn’t account for the garbage not being collected until the weekend.”

“And according to the shop owners where Arianna would buy her corsets, this is one of their designs, but this isn’t their corset,” Dani explained before she let out a hum of appreciation, looking down at the corset in consideration.

Malcolm furrowed his brows, still not taking his eyes off her. 

“How could they tell?”

“That’s the best part,” Edrisa grinned in excitement, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “If you take a close look at the stitching, you’ll see that this corset was machine stitched when they exclusively sell hand-sewn corsets only.” 

The coroner nodded in approval as she added, "Plus they pride themselves on being cruelty-free and using eco-friendly materials.” She paused at the incredulous looks everyone was giving her. “What? My stepdad talks about them all the time. He did a collaboration with them for his last fashion line." 

Malcolm’s eyes were sharp with focus as his hand hovered over at the stitching of the corset, ignoring the hole left from a knife having gone through it. 

“Amazing.”

His fingers barely brushed over the curved seam above the hip when he faintly heard someone clear their throat. Gil, most likely.

“Bright?”

Malcolm was startled out of his thoughts, looking up to see Dani staring down at him with her eyebrows raised and her nose scrunched in confusion and he was suddenly very aware of just how close he was to her. 

“Right, sorry.” He cleared his throat, a high flush stark against his pale skin. “So why’s Dani wearing it?”

“So glad you asked,” Edrisa piped up, clapping her hands in excitement. “Since we need to figure out what about it killed Arianna, Dani volunteered to try it out...” 

Her smile turned into a pout, “So far no luck. We’ve laced it up as tight as possible, but it’s not like Dani’s squashed like a tin of sardines. It doesn’t seem like it’s difficult to breathe in it.”

Dani was reminded of a confused puppy at the bewildered expression that overtook Malcolm’s face.

“You’re fine?”

She nodded, her brow wrinkled in thought. 

“Yeah,” she muttered, her hands smoothing down the front panel of the corset. “It doesn’t even feel like I’m wearing it, honestly.”

Just then Isabella let out a very loud cry, startling everyone. Everyone turned to see her plush owl on the floor, the little girl’s face scrunched up when her stubby little arms couldn’t reach it. Malcolm was quick to grab it and hand it back to her, earning him a toothless grin that matched his answering one. 

He wasn’t expecting to hear someone suddenly collapse behind him.

They all turned and their eyes widened in horror at the sight before them. Dani was sprawled across the floor, eyes wide and lips turning pale as she gasped for air.

“Dani!” 

Malcolm charged towards her in a panic, ignoring the near scrapes as he fell to his knees next to her. He couldn’t help but curse as his fingers fumbled, desperately trying to undo the corset which seemed to be getting tighter and tighter by the second. Gritting his teeth in frustration when he couldn’t get the knot out, he whipped out a pocket knife from his suit jacket and slashed through the laces before ripping it off her.

He was so going to hear it from Gil later, a scolding about unauthorized weapons already ringing in his ears, but at the moment Malcolm could focus on nothing but Dani. 

He nearly slumped over her in relief as Dani started gasping as air began to flow through her lungs once again. She weakly grabbed Malcolm’s arms as he cradled her to him, keeping her upright against his chest. He barely registered flinging the damn corset away from her, now a pitiful crumpled mess on the floor. 

“I-I couldn’t breathe…” Dani finally managed to choke out, her knuckles white from her grip on him. “I couldn’t breathe!”

Malcolm’s heart thundered almost violently as he stroked her hair, not letting her go as cool air started to fill her lungs again. Dani could practically feel it from where she had her head resting on his chest, the rhythm soothing her as she closed her eyes in exhaustion. 

Malcolm briefly looked up at Gil, his expression grim, a spark of fury making his eyes electric. 

“I think we know how this thing is our murder weapon.”

(~**~)                 (~**~)                  (~**~)                  (~**~)

"JT just texted, they’re on their way back." Gil reported as he pocketed his phone.

His expression was grim as he saw the man he considered a son freeze in the middle of his frantic pacing back and forth with a clingy Isabella on his hip. Malcolm hadn't been able to go to the hospital with Dani because the little girl saw him trying to leave the room and he wasn't able to do it in face of her tears.

“Is…” he hesitated, swallowing thickly. “Is Dani going to be okay?” 

If Gil noticed that his eyes were a little red, he had the sense not to say anything. 

“He said that both Edrisa and the hospital doctor confirmed that Dani only has some mild bruising. You managed to get the corset off her before any permanent damage was done.” 

Malcolm didn’t seem to take any comfort in that. The almost pout on his face was enough to make Gil smirk. 

“Kid, she’s gonna be okay. She’s from the Bronx, tougher than both of us combined, remember?” He unconsciously relaxed as he saw Malcolm let out a tiny smile. “Quick thinking with the knife, by the way,” he added, his tone almost smug.

He barely managed to keep his expression stern as the pout on Malcolm’s face dissolved into a deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression. It was the same face he had made the time the then officer had caught a twelve year old Bright attempting to smuggle a cageful of budgies--which Gil had later learned he ‘liberated’ from a neglectful owner--into his room, he couldn’t help but note. 

“I justified it at the time,” he admitted sheepishly as Izzy patted his stubble, “but in hindsight, probably not the best idea to have a knife on me if I’m taking care of a baby.”

“Common sense kicks in at last,” Gil chuckled as Malcolm’s face flushed with rare embarrassment, “At least I don't have to make that my next point.”

At least, he hoped he didn’t have to. Had the kid even kept his wall of weapons out of the baby’s line of sight? He kept a straight face, but he was practically screaming internally at the thought. 

“By the way,” Malcolm added as he placed Izzy back in her stroller, “my mother’s going to be stopping by to pick up Isabella while I go take care of something.”

“Where you off to, kid?” 

“I, uh, I’m gonna see Ainsley.” He glanced away, still fidgeting with the stroller’s handles, “I haven’t talked to her for a few days, though I’d check up on her.”

“And Isabella?”

“Don’t worry,” Malcolm let out a tense chuckle, “That’s why I already called Mother, she’s more than happy to watch her for a few hours.”

Gil gave an understanding smile. 

“I can keep an eye on Isabella until Jess gets here. Can’t be much different than babysitting Tala. Go see Ainsley.”

Malcolm’s smile was solemn as he knelt down to face Isabella. The baby just grinned at him and reached out to pat his face. 

“I’m only going to be gone for a little while, okay? Mother’s going to take you on another adventure, that’ll be fun, right?” 

Isabella gurgled as she hugged her owl, the plush toy squished against a chubby cheek. 

“I’ll be back soon, Izzy.” As he stood up to leave, he turned to Gil once more. “Thanks for doing this, Gil.”

“Anytime, kid.”

As Malcolm walked away, Gil knelt down and gave Isabella a smile. The baby let out a light squeal as she reached out to him, the tips of her tiny fingers barely grazing his beard. She reminded him of Tala, his only grandchild when she was that age, wide eyed and curious and grabbing anything that caught her eye. 

Once he took her back to his office, Isabella started to get fussy. He picked her up, immediately realizing what she wanted as he took the bottle of formula she hadn't finished yet. Gil couldn’t help the fond smile that overtook his face as her big blue eyes stared up at him, gurgling as a chubby fist stroked his chin. She started kicking a leg as if to say she was enjoying her snack. 

“You just wanna do everything at once, don’t you?” He would firmly deny that he cooed at Isabella if one of his officers saw him like this. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you took after Bright.”

He didn’t get a response nor did he expect one, but the gummy smile that lit up her face as she reached for her bottle gave him a sense of understanding.

Then a wave of regret hit him. If Evan Huntington knew about Isabella now, why hadn’t he taken her away? 

The lieutenant decided then and there that that sorry excuse for a man wouldn’t have a chance at ruining this little girl’s life. 

Not if he had anything to say about.

(~**~)                 (~**~)                  (~**~)                  (~**~)

After the rollercoaster that had been the blackout and Endicott’s stabbing, Malcolm and Jessica somehow managed to keep Ainsley from being sent to prison by the skin of their teeth. Malcolm was the first to admit that it wouldn’t have been possible without the help of Gil, Dani, and Edrisa. Even JT, much to the surprise of both mother and son.

But it didn’t stop Jessica from finding it fit to send Ainsley to a rehabilitation facility of sorts. Phoenix Rehab, which the Milton matriarch had said had glowing reviews was a facility usually housed teenage heirs to fortunes with so-called attitude problems and wealthy housewives who found that something about their life just wasn’t enough and needed supposed space to breathe. 

Very rarely were there people like Ainsley, who genuinely needed help and needed to understand themselves and their actions.

Malcolm had been against the idea at first. It was already public knowledge that Ainsley was The Surgeon’s daughter, but if the staff were to find out what had really happened that night... 

He shuddered at the thought of Ainsley being raked over hot coals by the fallout. 

Jessica, still reeling from what happened, had suggested Ainsley stay there for at least six months. She was reluctant to cut Ainsley off from society, but she felt that her daughter definitely needed to be somewhere where she didn’t have to deal with media vultures. Especially when Ainsley couldn’t call herself the well-adjusted Whitly anymore. 

But from the start, their mother had made it clear that if Ainsley ever wanted to come back home, whether it be for the weekend or forever, she would welcome her with what Gil dubbed as the Whitly equivalent of arms wide open. 

His sister had ended up making a deal with Jessica. If she could find even one thing she liked about the place--whether it was the food, the meditation classes, even just the comfy mattresses and the freedom to decorate her room as she saw fit--within a week... 

Then she would concede to stay the six months Jessica had recommended.

Soon six months had come and gone, Jessica and Malcolm making various efforts to visit her at least once a week and Ainsley making quite a few visits back to the Whitly family home. Though she always stubbornly insisted that she didn’t need them to check up on her so much, especially considering the long drive. 

But for reasons no one seemed to understand, the youngest Whitly always seemed eager to go back. 

Ainsley clearly seemed to be improving. She half-begrudgingly admitted to Malcolm that she may have been ignoring her own mental health and she managed to come to terms with what she had done, making peace with it more or less. 

But it still didn’t stop the guilt that she felt every time she saw a crime news report. Nicholas Endicott was nothing short of a monster for all the trauma he had put them through and she wasn’t sorry he was dead. But what worried her the most was that something in her--something twisted, something she could have inherited from the dark underbelly of Martin Whitly’s psyche--had snapped and she just couldn’t stand by and watch scum like him get what he wanted. 

Whether it was him lusting after their mother or having Malcolm and Gil at his mercy, she couldn’t let him get away with murder. 

Not again. 

Not anymore. 

She was only sorry for how it had made her notorious, serial killer father downright giddy.

Even more sorry that her mother and brother had been left to deal with the consequences. 

And before long, six months turned to seven, to eight, then nine, but as time ticked on, Ainsley Whitly seemed to have no intention of coming home for good. 

Malcolm was brought over to where Ainsley was lounging on an open patio. She looked comfortable in a flowy white tunic top and matching leggings, her hair fabulous and effortlessly styled as always. 

She seemed at an easel painting... something? 

He couldn’t tell if she was trying for peacock feathers or she accidentally started channeling Klimt with all the greens and golds. 

“Before you say anything, I’m just playing around with this,” Ainsley said without looking up. “I will smear green paint in your hair.” 

And that was Ainsley all over. She always seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to her big brother trying to tease her. He simply grinned as he walked over to her, meeting her halfway for a bear hug before he sat next to her. 

“Hey bro,” she grinned, “it’s been eighty four years. Please tell me you brought truffle cupcakes instead of just your sorry mug.”

Malcolm couldn’t help but snort as he shook his head. 

“Hi Ains. Good to see you’re still you.”

She blew a raspberry, wagging her paintbrush at him in a way that reminded him of the way great-aunt Martha Antoinette would wag her finger, seafoam green manicure almost blinding whenever she scolded him or their mother. 

“Your last visit was over a week ago. You finally coming to terms that you don’t need to be checking up on me so much?”

“It’s not that. I’ve just been…” His mouth twisted as he tried to figure out how to even begin to explain everything, “busy the last few days. How’ve you been?”

“Pretty good. I’ve taken up painting obviously,” she smirked, stroking her chin thoughtfully. “You think if I grew facial hair, I could be Bob Ross?”

“Ains,” Malcolm barely got out, his shoulders shaking with laughter, “I think it takes more than mere facial hair to even pass for Bob Ross.” 

“Rude,” she scoffed playfully before trailing off. “I dunno,” she added with a shrug, “I’ve been painting a lot of happy trees lately and I could do with another hobby.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” A relieved smile spread across his face. “How’ve you been doing?” 

“Okay for the most part. I’ve been binge-watching The Good Place the past couple of days. I don’t get all the hype, but it was actually pretty good. Though the philosophy bits just confuse the hell out of me.” 

“Well, it’s an acquired taste for some.”

Malcolm chuckled, remembering how JT’s face had scrunched up when he and Tally were debating about ethics in the latest episode during their last group outing. JT preferred everything straightforward while Tally liked diving into symbolism and the intricacies of foreshadowing.

And yet the two opposites had just celebrated their tenth wedding anniversary. 

The siblings shared a moment of comfortable silence before Ainsley spoke up. 

“You came here to ask me something.” She crossed her arms over the table and leaned forward, her knowing eyes befitting of her passion for journalism. “And don’t deny it, you know you can’t hide anything from Whitly women, bro. What is it?” 

For once, he carefully thought over his words. 

“You gave Mom the six months she wanted. Your doctors say you’re more than equipped to return to your job and your regular life.” He frowned in confusion as Ainsley looked down at the table, almost curled into herself. “You don’t have an insatiable bloodlust, you don’t take pleasure in hurting people. I can’t imagine what must have been going through your head at the time--” 

His eyes softened when he saw her look so small, so unlike her confident self. As much as he initially thought otherwise, he hadn’t been the only one affected by their father.

“But I do understand being afraid of what you could be capable of. And I know that it was a result of trauma and stress, but what happened obviously came from a very logical and rational urge to protect our family.”

“I know,” Ainsley mumbled before looking back up at her big brother, “I’m usually good at getting that through my head--I’m still scared that something will happen again. I’ll suddenly get this pang in my chest at the realization that yes, maybe I did kill to protect my family. Maybe his death helped to save the lives of innocent people who would have died because of him...”

Her voice wobbled, her eyes suspiciously bright and it was like she was five years old again, confused and hanging onto the hem of her big brother’s sweater. 

“But none of that changes the fact that I did kill him. I killed him and I don’t even remember doing it.” 

Malcolm placed a hand on her shoulder as he noticed her eyes glaze over, giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

“I’m not saying that I’m worse off than you or you can’t understand what it’s like--but you’ve had this stigma of being Martin Whitly’s son for twenty years. It sucks, but at least it’s a constant for you. Imagine feeling like you’re doing fine and then all of a sudden, you’re hit with the guilt of something you actually did and can’t take back. Something you can never change.”

Malcolm held out his other hand and Ainsley was quick to take it, much like when they had been kids and she had held her brother’s hand because she was afraid of the high dive at the pool at Grandma Liz’s house.  

“I feel that less here, but I’m still reminded.”

“You’re not a bad person, Ains. Single minded maybe, but that’s hardly the worst trait for a journalist to have.”

She let out a wry laugh. 

“But I still killed a man and that changes things.” She pursed her lips as she let out a sharp exhale. “I don’t know if I can ever feel normal again.”

Malcolm nodded. Didn’t he have so many sleepless nights over that during the past twenty years? Maybe it was something only family could understand. 

“Welcome to my world,” he jested, the beginnings of a teasing smile unfurling. 

“I guess it was only a matter of time.” Ainsley let go of his hand, her laughter given way to a resigned sigh. “And I know Mom misses me, but now she’s asking me to either come back for this gala or give great-grandma Catherine ‘the Great’ something to roll over in her grave about.”

“Well, she was the life of the party back in her day,” he shrugged. 

He vaguely remembered a larger than life old woman in an Audrey Hepburn style black dress and opera gloves, laugh lines around Milton blue eyes and streaks of silver in her chestnut hair. Malcolm had been four when she passed away, but he could still recall his young self balancing on her ruby red shoes as she led him in wide sweeping circles across the dance floor. 

“And let’s face it, you definitely take after her ‘cause you’re much better at the whole gala thing than I am. I wouldn’t even know how to talk to anyone, really.”

“Wait,” Ainsley turned to him in disbelief. “You, Professor Foot-in-Mouth Syndrome, are actually going? Willingly?”

“Yeah, and here’s the kicker. Mother wanted me to bring a date.”

Ainsley let out a snort, her expression sly. 

“Because you’re so clearly fighting them off with a stick?”

“Oh, ha, ha. Very funny,” he retorted with a roll of his eyes. 

“What are you going to do when you show up without a date?” 

Malcolm went quiet, fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeves and looking at anything but her. Ainsley’s eyes went wide with shock and delight, her reporter mind quickly connecting the dots.

“No. Way. Malcolm Alexander Bright! You actually have a date?”

Malcolm squirmed in embarrassment, his ears turning red. 

“I wouldn’t exactly call it a date exactly--”

“It’s Dani, huh?”

“Wha--” Malcolm just blinked at her in bemusement, “I just--how’d you even--”

“Figure it out? Oh please,” Ainsley rolled her eyes, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “You couldn’t be more obvious. I mean, you literally talk about her every time you come visit.”

He froze at that, eyes so wide that she thought they’d pop out at any given second. Malcolm briefly wondered how his sister could read him so easily now. It had to have been the result of her almost year long stay here. 

 “I do?” 

He winced at the way his voice almost cracked. 

“Yup,” she nodded, practically preening with unholy glee. “It’s always the same thing. You tell me about a case, update me on Gil, guess the JT name of the week, and you end on some hilarious joke Dani made, usually at your expense. Which confirms you being a masochist because you find those the funniest,” she added in afterthought. 

Ainsley settled back in her seat, grinning like the cat that caught the canary. 

“So tell me, big brother. How’d you manage to trick her into saying yes?” 

(~**~)                 (~**~)                  (~**~)                  (~**~)

Dani wasn’t normally one to simply stay at her desk, but she couldn’t help the soft smile on her face as she watched Gil and Isabella through the window of his office, the baby laughing as Gil made funny faces. It had been a while since she saw him like this, but lolo Gil was definitely a good look on him.

“Oh, Detective Powell!”

She snapped out of her thoughts a posh voice called out to her, accompanied by the crisp sound of heels clicking with each step across the floor.

“Hello, Mrs Whitly.” 

Dani looked up at the older woman with a polite smile. Jessica Whitly reminded her of the high society ladies from the reruns of Dynasty that her Granmè used to watch when she was little. Affably dramatic with those close to her, but scrappy enough to get down and dirty when she needed to if breaking an antique vase over Watkins’ head was any indication. 

Dani nearly had to cover her eyes when she spotted the bright, friendly smile on the other woman’s face, a sharp contrast with the navy suede trench coat and muted silver heels she wore. Well, at least she knew where Bright got it from now. 

“Oh no, dear, Mrs Whitly was my former mother-in-law,” Jessica chuckled airily, waving off the formality. “Given how attached my son is to you, you simply must call me Jessica. It’s lovely to see you again.” 

“It’s nice to see you too.” 

It should’ve been awkward, talking to Bright’s mother like this as if her relationship with her son was something more profound than friendship, but honestly? 

Jessica wasn’t as bad as some of the other high society mothers she had come across since meeting Bright. She was a lot of things; nosy, opinionated, a little judgemental at times when it came to Gil or her children’s choices. But she didn’t let her shortcomings stop her from trying to do right by the people she cared about. 

The subtle smile on Dani’s face was genuine, even as the detective cleared her throat upon recalling last night’s invitation. 

“Oh, by the way, I thought you should know that Bright invited me along.” 

“Invited you along...?” The older woman feigned ignorance with a quizzical tilt of her head, a rare moment of mischief for her. 

“Uh,” Dani hesitated for a second, absently biting her lower lip before she just came out with it. “Just that he extended the invitation for your gala... thing. He wasn’t really specific about what it was.”

“Oh,” Jessica lit up, clasping her hands together in delight, “So Malcolm did ask you after all! Finally. I knew that boy had a bit of the Milton persistence in him if I gave him a little nudge in the right direction, so to speak.”

Dani swallowed a chuckle, remembering the little family history lesson Bright had given them during the impromptu tour of the Whitly family home. 

“Uh, yeah.”

“Oh, this is wonderful, dear! So tell me, what do you plan on wearing?”

Oh.

Dani hadn’t really thought about what she would wear to an upscale event like that. Her family was comfortably middle class and the Powells’ idea of fancy was a night at the New York ballet and a late dinner at the Havana Café. 

“Um, I don’t really have a lot of options. Just that dress Bright bought me for a case a while back.”

“That fabulous oxblood gown you wore to the Taylor wedding?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Dani let out a laugh, simply shrugging a shoulder. “I thought about having my mom upcycle it and add some sheer lace sleeves, maybe a peekaboo collar.”

“As inventive as that may be and I will be asking for your mother’s number later,” Jessica looked momentarily intrigued by the idea before she shook her head, “I cannot let you be seen in that.”

Dani was nearly taken back, her brows raised in disbelief. 

“I’m sorry?” 

“Don’t get me wrong,” Jessica started, “That dress is gorgeous and you looked stunning as always. I've lost count of how many times people have come up to me and asked who you were after you flawlessly took down the Countess of Monte Cristo, not even a hair out of place.”

Jessica’s expression turned sly as she recalled how her son would start to frown in annoyance whenever he overheard a wealthy scion ask if the lovely detective was single. It may have led to a few ice cold glares whenever Dani wasn’t looking and the occasional possessive hand cupping the small of her back as he guided her through yet another dance, but the Milton matriarch would let Malcolm have his dignity. 

For now, at least. 

“But it’s practically an unwritten rule in the upper echelon, you simply cannot be seen in something you’ve already worn, especially when it comes to these sort of events.” 

"I guess you have a point…" Dani conceded. 

She might have had a brief glimpse of high society at the Taylor wedding, but she could tell from a glance that there was a lot of cutthroat viciousness hidden behind polite veneers. She was not about to go to the gala like a country bumpkin put on display at the-- 

Dani mentally shook her head. She must have listened to Mona talk about historical Cinderella style novels one too many times. How did Bright even grow up in that kind of environment? 

“Oh, I know!” Jessica's face lit up once again, “Why don’t I take you shopping? I still need to get my dress as well and I’m sure we could find something that suits your taste. We can make a lady’s day out of it.”

“I don’t know, Mrs Whitly--Jessica,” Dani corrected after a pointed look from the older woman. “I can’t exactly take off work--”

“Actually, you don’t need to continue your shift. Given that it ended a little while ago.” Gil interrupted, his face smug as he walked out of his office, bouncing a very happy Isabella in his arms. “Powell’s just a dedicated worker.”

Isabella kicked her legs in excitement, squealing when she saw Jessica hold her arms out. 

“Oh, my little bluebell!” Jessica gushed as she took the baby from Gil, looking every inch a doting grandmother as she turned back to Dani. “Now then, if your work day is over, I would love to take you dress shopping.” 

Dani opened and closed her mouth, unsure how to answer. Jessica was nice enough in small doses, but even she didn’t know if she could handle the entire day with Bright’s mom. 

“Powell,” Gil interjected, fatherly assurance bleeding into his usual no-nonsense lieutenant persona. “After all the hullabaloo, you’ve definitely earned a break today. Don’t let me catch you back here until tomorrow.”

“Then I guess…” Dani paused, looking at Jessica with a tiny smile. “Why not? I could use a day off right about now.”

“Wonderful!” 

Isabella started to clap and giggle as Dani stood up, the little girl’s enthusiasm making the grin on Jessica’s face grow even wider. 

“See, even Bluebell’s excited for you to join us.”

Gil chuckled with a fond expression, offering to get Isabella’s stroller when his phone suddenly rang. He hurried back to his office when he saw just who was calling. 

“Gil, I think I figured out how to get Evan Huntington to talk.”

“Bright,” Gil pinched the bridge of his nose. “We still don’t have enough evidence to bring him in. There’s still a possibility that he’s not our killer.”

“Killer or not, he knows something. He’s just not telling us.”

“Don’t I know it,” he groaned, a feeling of dread already starting to bubble up, just waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Do I even want to know what you have in mind?”

“Probably not,” he joked before his voice turned serious. “We may have to talk to Evan Huntington’s father, Edgar. But in order for it to work--” 

He could practically hear Malcolm’s Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. 

“--I may need to pay my father a visit.” 

Hey guys!

I’m sorry this took so long... again, writer’s block plus online summer courses have not been a good combination. I’m hoping that chapter 8 doesn’t take this long to write but no worries, I’m not gonna abandon the story... if anyone’s still interested in the story lol

I hope you guys are doing well and staying safe, I’ll see you next time XP

P.S. extra special thank you to @s4karuna because I could not have posted these past few chapters without her edits

#prodigal son #malcolm bright #dani powell #gil arroyo #jt tarmel #edrisa tanaka #ainsley whitly #jessica whitly #brightwell #carved in the cradle #prodigal son fanfiction

[fistsoflightning]

25: remember me

prompt: wish || masterpost || other fills || ao3 mirror

word count: 786

though i have to say goodbye, remember me // don’t let it make you cry

Post 5.3, spoilers! I made myself sad and then ‘Remember Me’ shuffled onto my music and I got sadder :^)

For the first time in ages, Mor Dhona’s night sky is unobstructed by clouds of sickly purple aether and clouds, stars free to shimmer across the dark expanse as Zaya lazily drapes themselves over the stone parapets that line the roof of the Rising Stones. With the summer warmth during the day, it isn’t so cold, just lying here. Comfortable, maybe, were it not for the bump in the stones that laid directly under their head.

Zaya sighs, keeping their eyes ever heavensward as barely-there footsteps echo up the stairway and to the rooftop.

“Cooled off, I take it,” Thancred muses, making his way over and sitting on the other side of the corner they’ve chosen, legs swinging dangerously over the sides of the building—ignoring the fact that their tail and one of their arms are dangling off the same side, too. “How goes the stargazing?”

It’s a bit of a stretch, but Zaya whips the knee of Thancred’s boot with their tail (not the best of ideas, the echo of it traveling up their spine) and receives a breathy laugh in return. His hand reaches out to lightly brush his fingers across the scales exposed by the odd cut of their pants, a soft warmth in his touch that sends sparks across Zaya’s skin.

“Seriously, though. Is it about to start?”

They nod—well, something close to one, seeing as their head is firmly planted on the stone behind them—and Thancred smiles briefly before looking up at the sky, wistfully fond.

“...I don’t think Ryne has ever seen a star shower.” From the corner of their eye, Thancred pulls out something from his coat; a letter, maybe? “Even among all the spectacles everyone put on for her sake.”

Zaya lifts their head up from the stone, cursing the crack that comes from their neck, and raises an eyebrow. He doesn’t react, much, barely holding his arm out as if they would fall should he not.

“It’s rather selfish of me, I think,” he continues, still looking to the skies as Zaya pushes themselves up into a seated position instead of laying sprawled across the parapet. His eyes—healed now, thanks to Krile finally fixing the eye issue he had that Zaya doesn’t know the name of—they shimmer with untold hopes as the first few stars dash across the sky, impatient as they start their descent. “I’d thought of wishing to see Ryne again, you see… but she has her life to live. I cannot continue to—well. Impose myself, as it were—”

“Don’ say that,” Zaya mumbles, throat protesting with a rough and scratchy cough afterwards. “She wanted t’ stay. With us.”

Thancred laughs again, swallowing the starlike brightness of it down as he looks down from the stars with barely watery eyes. The stars that fall into the sky behind him brighten the off-white of his hair, shimmering flame dying out as it disappears beyond the shadows of buildings.

“I know,” he says. “I—I do honestly miss her. Seems a bit unfair of me, doesn’t it, to wish to see her when I spent the first three years of knowing her keeping myself away.”

“But y’u started to change—even if it took almost dying.” Zaya scoots over the rough stone to reach his hand, fingers hesitating for but a moment. “‘s worth a lot, to her. She misses you too. Couldn’ find her when I went back with Lunya n’ Hanami.”

Zaya raises their hand to his chest, feeling the beat of his heart quietly as he hides his sniffle.

“She’s here,” they say, thinking of the pink ribbon tied to his coat and the gunblade that Gaia says Ryne’s been trying to train with. Thinking of sterling blue eyes that asked them to promise he’ll be safe, he’ll make it back home with you and of a shield of auroral light when he’d called to them, said take her and find Urianger, let no more harm come to her. “As long as you remember her, she’s here.”

The star shower above their heads continues on, but Zaya can’t help but keep looking at Thancred’s face even as it is, turned heavensward rather than to them. Gently looking to the skies above the Crystal Tower like it were the sole connection they had to the First—and in a way, it was, the place where G’raha had started it all.

“...Right.” Thancred spares one last moment to wipe his sleeve over his eyes before glancing back down at them. “Would it hurt to write a few letters, now and then?”

Zaya huffs, flicking the side of his head.

“Who said.”

#ffxiv #zaya qestir #thancred waters #ffxivwrite2020 #ffxivwrite #my writing #tales from the blue #elie's ffxivwrite2020 #anybody ask for Pain? #right so i have some very specific feelings on thancred and ryne and you Can't Stop Me #also i ran out of brain juice and woke up at ten remembering i have to finish this nsngsndnfsd endings a bit rushed #s: bound by faith

[circaealutetiana]

Stormpilot- James Camerons Avatar AU

Imagine a Pandora Au fic where Finn (a military boy, bred as they come) leaves Earth on behalf of Quaritch to help with the Avatar Program. Officially his task is to secure the safety of scientists, actually his task is to spy and report to Quaritch. He’s quite pissed when he learns Jake Sully- who’s just on this station by chance has taken his spot and he has to stay back on the station. But then Sully gets lost on his first day in the woods and even though he tells them the avatar is safe, Finn knows this is his chance. He’s back in the game and watches Sully carefully- while Quadritch is quite satisfied with Jakes reports Finn is suspicious. Sully is to caught up in everything and cannot be trusted. Q doesn’t buy it, he just thinks Finn is trying to make his comrade look bad to secure his own position.

Then one day while updating Q out in the field while wandering off into the forest Finn nearly gets eaten by an animal. A gorgeous Ikran flying hunter with unusual unruly hair safes his life. His companion another hunter- a young female with a long stick and a quite strong strike wants to kill him for coming close to a sacred place- but the hunter decides against it. That night Finn dreams of dark curls and catlike eyes with starlike sparke…

I really wanna see some mad ikran flying races between Rey and Poe- could you imagine those chasing each other through the forest? They’d be good friends but always in for a competition. Hux would make such a good Parker Selfridge. But I don’t actually like the idea of replacing Quaritch with Phasma, he’s just kinda too good to cut him out XD.

Don’t know where it came from but these peanuts would be awesome on Pandora- these stories have quite a few things in common... So if some wants to draw or write this: DO IT: I’m gonna read/look at it.

#poe dameron #finn #stormpilot #star wars au #finnpoe #star wars #james camerons avatar #avatar au #na'vi rey #na'vi poe #jake sully #the au no one asked for #star wars prompts #kind of i guess #story for adoption #star wars sequels

[zephyrises]

★;; starter for @bemoremuse​ { niko } ! 

      To Ventus, there’s always been a charm about the Kingdom of Corona that seems to pervade the air itself, but today is special. A festival is ongoing, laughter, food stands and entertainment abound. What was originally going to amount to a leisurely walk through the cobblestone streets evolves into something a little more sprightly. Namely, a flourishing desire to see and experience anything and everything that the celebration has to offer.

      He’s sat among a group of children to observe a dramatic puppet show, enjoyed a slice of something the vendor that beckoned to him called bee sting cake and had a surprisingly intricate, glittering golden design painted on his left cheek by the time he happens upon a middle aged woman who’s garnered quite a bit of attention spinning on her heels and spritzing confetti to the tune of another’s mandolin. Observation gives rise to waves of inspiration and the very second after it occurs to him that he didn’t get the most fulfilling exercise out of his mission of the day, he’s cartwheeling into a handstand on the street opposite. Momentum turns a few sideways flips into a proper break dance that soon catches the wandering eyes of several passerbys.

      Is he being a bit of a show off? Absolutely. Would this count as an abuse of power? To Master Eraqus, it probably would, especially if he were to take the munny that’s occasionally being thrown at his feet into consideration. The flicker of rebellion that sparks inside of his heart at the thought is plenty justification for the blonde to carry on with his fun. With a toothy, self-assured grin, he transitions from his dance to twirling Wayward Wind as if it were a baton. When its grip parts with one hand, it lands in the other. Dashes of light and gravity magic supply starlike twinkles and pitch black backdrops that have the small crowd that’s now amassed parting their lips to coo.

      If becoming a keyblade master doesn’t pan out in the end, maybe Ventus could take an unorthodox route of putting the kibble on the table for his future rabbits, cats, dogs and birds with street performances.

#★; will you stay awake for me? { kh3verse } #bemoremuse #{ SORRY THIS TOOK LITERAL AGES. lmk if it's okay!!!! } #food mention cw #eating habits cw

[eisiramdeus-a]

→ starlikes plotted for a starter and said “make it gay”                      for PETER “STARLORD” QUILL

✯ IT IS THE UNMISTAKEABLE CHARACTERISTICS OF THE GODS TO         LOOK UPON THE BLACK & VIOLET VOID OF SPACE OR         ITS INFINITE PHOTOGENESIS IN ANY DIRECTION, EVERY DIRECTION         AND TO NOT PERSIH OUT OF ASTONISHMENT; PART WITH HIS HUMANITY.         These beautiful stars, man can think and ponder, but not as beautiful as you.         ( Come and get your love, starry-eyed wanderer boy ) 

❝Ey, space mercenary boy, take a look at this.❞ He beckons the MISSOURI BOY, green grasses from the Earth whence we come from, DUST TO DUST, feel the American soil beneath your feet, and though far from that blessed soil they both shared, here, in this world cold and away from home, one could not deny the spark of a certain destiny to search far and wide. Just now, Alexander found this cool rock that had an abnormal glow, if a bit sinister, but DON’T WORRY, it should be harmless. Not that it worries a Saint amongst kind. ❝Think I can take this lil’ cursed stony boy back home? Yer the expert on space n’ shit.❞ He is taking the glowing rock regardless. The question is a form of validation.

@starlikes

#✯ ❝ to them; the wrath of god ❞ [ ic ] #v; main #starlikes

[gardenofchrome]

Are you looking for a coffee shop AU centered around Orion Pax and Megatron? Look no further than Starlike Spark on A03!

Plot:

Orion Pax was just a regular college senior, working as a barista at his local coffee shop. Life was boring and bleak for the young man, just trying to get by.

Until another young man, rumored to be the notorious gang leader of the 'Decepticons' starts hanging by the shop, trying to strike up a conversation with Orion.

#for you #transformers #autobots #cybertron #humanformers #transformers as humans #orion pax #megatronus #megatron #decepticons #humans #starscream #shockwave #elita one #jazz transformers #fanfic #coffee shop au #barista #prewar #optimus prime #starlike spark

[misssiriuss]

Hi! May I have a basic channelling reading on why I was bullied?

Okay, so before I did this reading, I was seeing signs of people with blue purplish skin, and white hair, which I got twice before I planned to answer your question. Then the first word I heard was starseed, and felt this shimmering white star like feeling with purplish blue around. The energy Is really refreshing, and mystical like, like the type of energy of a leader, sort off a queen and she had message for you

“You have decieved yourself to believe, In things that are not in your power, and now I decided to set you free my dear”

She was really tall, had purplish skin, and had a very dreamy like, mystical, starlike energy about her. Who Is she? Not even I know.. and what does she mean?

that’s up to you to see for yourself with your intuition that Is probably sparking within you, because I really sense that there Is an aspect of you, that yet had to be discovered.

I truly hope It resonated 🤗

💜💜💜 💙💙💙

Info about my free/paid readings

#free psychic reading #tarot #clairaudience #light #message #witch #channeling #witchcraft #witchy #divination witch #third eye #tarot cards

[okieufo]

I wrote a thing I was going to include in a reply but I decided against including it for Plot Reasons

So here’s me babbling and pretending I know some things about cell structure from a book that I’m reading about cells and genetics. (The Violinist Thumb & The Spark of Life)

Also if anyone actually knows what they’re talking abt feel free 2 come correct me l m a o I know i’m not an expert at this. also i’ll prob touch it up later when im not, you know, studying for midterms or something

[ lowkey tagging @exoplanetological bc science boyfriend?]

He went upstairs to his bedroom, In his closet was a box of files on, well, himself. His biology, his bloodwork, his upper limits of strength. Things he and Lex had spent months working on together. Learning about himself. Lex getting to play the scientist he was so interested in.

He came back down with a single manila folder. One specifically on solar radiation. Labeled simply Project #1, because it was the first one he and Lex had set out on. Figure out how he worked, and go from there.

Alton pulled a picture out of the folder. There were his own skin cells compared with a humans, and a plant’s (Lex’s suggestion). Neat black-inked handwriting noted parts where Alton’s cells looked almost human and others that looked almost plantlike. Walled and packed together shapes like chloroplasts. Others similar to the ever-stretching and almost starlike shape of  fibroblasts. 

A fourth picture. A sample taken closer to the bottom layer of skin. A word circled in red off to the side with an arrow pointing to a strange misshapen structure dyed purple for clarity-- “Osteoblasts?!”

Not that a layman would understand it-- even he hadn’t, until Lex had sat him down to explain it: His skin was durable because of the cell structure. Collagen was latticed only slightly looser than those found in tendons. All tightly packed and woven together. Yet, it also absorbed sunlight because of the smaller chloroplasts packed in between. In the deeper layer of skin, there was something similar to the mineralized tissue that make human bones. His skin could be cut, but nothing underneath could.

#i. am bad at cell structures but also i researched this for free on a study break #i spent like? an hour on this tops lmao im not a cellular biologist #headcanons #worldbuilding

[blackbridesmaiddresses69]

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[libidomechanica]

“Selfe did leaue followed dost advances, but of date”

Selfe did leaue followed dost advances, but of date by yeares straight  shall iudged beautys charm,

warned toward signs of empire, as the conscience without a break of bounding pulse of his arms.

Very clever, thoughts I can, I will not so; I love her day I the brain   Hath got, and Osiris

  but farthest Sleepe again we strolled. whisks it down like a song? But now, before soon; rest, on something about the rear her autumn tresses falsely brown   before your lives and hand in a sunrise man who am like a significant myth   As he, that through the same recure,

  I know your foe.                          have left so sweete Violet. See that wanton Nimph for darkness them withouten leaves Me, Heaven, and the flying, and God-filled with painting I following throne me, starlike, sparke had slander, but denied,   a beam

  of all subiect thir girlonds of tickets, or the dawn: ran for her an a shoulders there; but should starlike, sparkle for to live thy years till, and we drown the glory, foreign it, when she touching doth Love speake to the orange grace a double worth is found? Two in the velvet petticoat — a cuff neglectful, as ye were true no-meaning till air is Music slumbering hearts which he by industry had taught advantage of orient day, first thinkst by hovering how shouldst print of man. It will now had lasted.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #157 texts