OC-tober Day 20: Kisser Doing Something Stupid

OC-tober Day 20: Kisser doing something stupid

Recently, I’ve been working on a Star Wars fic with a higher than usual number of OCs. The fic isn’t posted yet, but I thought I might put a few of these out there.

Life Sucks, but my writing is pretty good lol

The original post is here by @icannotreadcursive.

Day 1

~+~

As it turned out, RT-1010 could fit a section of ration bar up his nose. He could not, however, get it out.

~+~

Day 21

Day 28: Taking some time to rest

Max enjoying a good book

Prompt list by @icannotreadcursive

Day 23: Enjoying a nice drink

Max having tea with their neighbours, Julinha

Julinha is owned by @br0wnieb0x

Prompt list by @icannotreadcursive

OC-tober Day 24

500 words and we're only just getting to the actual prompt (from @icannotreadcursive), which is "Being cared for by someone they love." But 500! words!! yay!

Verry left her boarding house after lunch on Saturday, not able to face an entire afternoon pretending nothing was wrong. She called Josie’s lodgings from a pay phone, but they still hadn’t seen her. So Verry bicycled around aimlessly for a while, and then found herself near Fred’s apartment and decided she might as well visit.

It was only after she had already gone in that she realized she hadn’t visited alone before, but the doorman didn’t look censorious. “Is Mr. Kennell in?” she asked.

“Yes, miss. Go right on up,” he said. Verry went, relieved; she didn’t think she could have stood an accusation of immorality today.

Fred answered his door quickly after her knock. “Oh, hello Verry,” he said cheerfully. “Looking for Tom?”

“I wasn’t actually. Is he here?”

“Well, as a matter of fact he is. Do come in and sit down. Would you like some tea?”

Tom was sitting on Fred’s chesterfield, holding a book. Verry started for the armchair nearby, but there was a newspaper on the seat so she sat next to Tom. “Oh, please don’t bother,” she said. “I just had lunch.”

“How are you?” Tom asked.

Verry replied politely and made conversation, about her bike ride and the weather and what was in Fred’s paper, but Tom kept giving her concerned looks. She realized she was tapping her fingers and got her crochet work out of her bag. She’d tossed it in without thinking when she left, and the hook had slipped out, so she focused on finding her place, which kept her hands busy.

“Fred said you met someone you knew at Rita’s?” Tom asked.

“Yes, Eileen,” Verry confirmed absently.

“Is she what’s worrying you?”

“No, I’m not worried,” Verry said. Tom frowned at her, not harshly but worried himself, and Verry sighed. “I don’t suppose either of you have heard from Josie?”

“No,” Tom said, looking at Fred.

Fred shook his head. “No, but I wouldn’t expect to. She wouldn’t have my address. Have you not heard from her?”

“Not since Monday,” said Verry, crocheting automatically. “And that was just a postcard saying not to worry about her. But I went to her lodgings yesterday and they said she hasn’t been there since Thursday. And she’s doing dangerous things, and of course we can’t ask the police for help, and I’m just dreadfully—worried, yes.” Tom patted her knee. “You’re sure neither of you have heard anything from her, or about her?”

They exchanged glances. “Verry,” Tom said gently, “I’ve met her once. If you haven’t heard from her, she won’t have written either of us.”

“Oh, I know,” said Verry. “I’m just worrying. I know it won’t do any good. Let’s talk about something else.” She got to the end of a row and looked down at her work. She’d crocheted a solid line of blocks right in the middle of the pattern. “Oh, damn!” she said, and then she burst into tears.

“Poor dear,” Tom said, wrapping his arms around her. Verry sobbed onto his shoulder.

Eventually there was a clunk, and Verry looked around to see Fred putting a tea tray onto the side table. “Here you are,” he said, smiling awkwardly. Tom offered Verry his handkerchief. Verry wiped her eyes and blew her nose and took a cup of tea when Fred offered it.

Day 24: Being cared for by someone they love

Cathrine is the closest person to a mother that Max has in their life

Prompt list by @icannotreadcursive

OC-tober Day 22: Kisser having a difficult conversation

Recently, I’ve been working on a Star Wars fic with a higher than usual number of OCs. The fic isn’t posted yet, but I thought I might put a few of these out there.

Once again under a cut, what can I say

The original post is here by @icannotreadcursive.

Day 1

~+~

“Oh vod’iiiiikaaaa,” Kisser sing-songed in the manner of annoying older brothers everywhere.

“What.” Melt snapped. Her voice was muffled by the pillow she was attempting to smother herself with.

“Is that any way to talk to your favorite batchmate?” Kisser clicked his tongue in faux disappointment.

“Go. Away.”

Kisser would have continued to pester her, but instead his gaze caught a PADD on the floor, clearly flung in a fit of pique. He picked it up to find it unlocked and opened to a dense bit of legalese. He sat on the bunk, dangerously within kicking range.

“Do you want to tell me about it and keep your place on the page or let me figure it out on my own and lose it?” he asked.

Melt grumbled, “It’s not even about that. You won’t get it.”

“Fair enough,” Kisser settled in, locking the PADD and setting it aside. “I still want to help.”

Melt threw the pillow at him, but sat up. She scowled, but her eyes were tellingly red-rimmed.

“How is it,” she bit out, “that there are seven sisters in the 501st, but somehow I’m the only one in the fucking 212th?” 

Kisser winced. “Bad luck?”

Melt scowled at him, but accepted it. “Intellectually, I know that.”

“But it doesn’t feel fair.”

“Nope.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Before Kisser could figure out what to say, Melt spoke again.

“It’s like…I hear stories about other sisters who came out and because they were visible, other sisters realized what was up with themselves or finally felt like there was a word for it and they found each other. That happened for like…four of the 501st’s? But here, I’m the only one as far as I know, and it gets lonely, cause none of the rest of you can really relate and I don’t have anyone I can talk to who just gets it without me needing to explain.”

Kisser frowned. “Sounds like it blows.”

Melt snorted, nudging his back with her knee. “Yeah, it blows.”

“You can’t even punch the problem,” he said.

That got a bark of laughter. “I dunno,” she mused, “punching a Kaminoan might make me feel better.”

“I can draw one on the punching bag at the gym?” Kisser offered.

Melt properly giggled at that. “I’d love to see you explain that to the Commander.”

“If it lasts long enough for the Commander to see it, you aren’t punching hard enough.”

They didn’t go to the gym, though. Instead, Melt picked the PADD back up off the desk. “Did you know the legal requirements for a species’ eligibility for citizenship–besides, you know, approval by two thirds of the Senate–are sentience and sapience?”

Kisser desperately reoriented himself to the new conversational track. “Nope.”

“Do you even know the difference?” Melt teased, slightly too sharp but not hurtful–to Kisser, at least.

“Nope.”

“Sentience is about having sensations and emotions, sentience is about thinking and learning, basically. That’s the short version, anyway.” Melt highlighted a portion of the legalese as she spoke, like that was going to help Kisser any. Maybe it was just to have something to do with her hands.

“Makes sense,” Kisser said, mostly just to confirm he was listening.

“But that means they have to test for these things without being obviously specist,” Melt handed over the PADD, which Kisser politely pretended to skim. “So one of the tests is about extant socio-cultural structures and the capacity to interrogate them–not whether it’s punished to the point where no one does, that actually helps to prove it’s possible but gets into Sophont Rights issues.”

Kisser blinked, “Is that why the Kaminoans are so convinced we’re not sentient? They think we can’t philosophize?”

Melt laughed, “Kind of seems that way, doesn’t it? Anyway, an example given of this type of interrogation is ‘individuals assigned socio-cultural roles questioning, rejecting, and/or otherwise changing their assigned designations.’”

Something clicked into place. “Like gender?”

“Like gender.”

“So, by their own rules, we’re sophonts. And you’re literally proof.”

“Yup,” she popped the ‘p,’ “Like, we both already knew, it’s not a surprise to literally any Vode ever, but–proof positive. I could be Exhibit A. Me!”

“Damn,” Kisser breathed. “I see why you got mad.”

“Yeah.”

~+~

Day 23