OC-Tober Day 26: Writing A Letter

OC-Tober Day 26: Writing a letter

Prompt: Writing a letter

I used the OC-tober list made by @icannotreadcursive

Link here

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OCs: Jessie, Mark, Nick

Jessie heard a loud bird cry, pulling her attention to the open window. She looked up at the high window she left open just for the bird. The hawk swooped inside to land on a perch Jessie made just for the bird. She looked around the repair shop, making sure no one was about to pop out from any shadows. Jessie wouldn’t put it past one of them trying. It took Jessie a moment to clean her grease smeared hands before she approached the bird.

Jessie reached out to brush her finger along the hawk’s chest. “Hey, Smokey.” She watched as he seemed to puff up his chest before letting out a few chirps. “Like father like son. You two are too proud.” Reaching out, she pulled the neatly folded note out of the travel case around the hawk’s leg. The folds were even, and when she unfolded the note, the lettering was neat and in pen. That alone told her who it was from.

Nick, with how easily he took to being a leader of a group, had handwriting that looked like he had to get every thought out on paper as fast as possible. Scratchy and uneven with scratched out mistakes. The paper folded up in odd folds that seemed to work no matter how weird it was.

Mark, ever the shadow that followed Nick everywhere, his handwriting looked like he took his time to think over the written words. Each letter was written in neat and tight capitals. Even his folds on the paper were neat and even.

Jessie smiled as she unfolded the paper. There was a time written on the paper, along with a short question about food. With a roll of her eyes, she went to find a pen and paper. She ended up finding an old paper with equations on it. Scribbling them out, she flipped the paper over and wrote out an answer. Her handwriting was a mess of quick scribbles, used to writing everything out fast as the customer explained what was going wrong and where. “Been working all day. Bring something to eat.”

Jessie walked back to Smokey to slip the paper into the travel case. She passed him a treat that he snatched up before taking off out of the window to deliver her reply. Turning back to the table covered in electronics and mechanical prostheses in different states of disrepair, she went back to work. She had time to finish off some of her projects.

Smokey let out a cry as he neared his return location. A man looked up, his hood pulled low over his face. He raised his arm, the flash of metal catching the bird’s attention. Swooping down, Smokey landed on his outstretched arm. Reaching up, he scratched at the puff of chest feathers. “Was your flight safe?” He passed a snack to Smokey as another man joined him on the catwalk they were hiding on.

“What did Jessie say?”

With a huff, he reached for the travel case to pull out the paper. “So impatient, Nick.”

Nick blew him a raspberry from behind his gaiter. A hood was also pulled down low to hide his face. Mark rolled his eyes before handing Nick the letter and coaxing Smokey to move over to Nick’s shoulder. Nick reached up to rub at the bird's head as he answered his question out loud. “Awe, she’s been working all day. We have to bring food.”

“Should be something we can find on the way back.”

Nick pulled out a pen from his pocket and motioned to Mark to turn around. He used the pen to sketch out three hearts intertwined under Jessie’s reply. When he showed it to Mark, the man gave a fond but exasperated sigh. “Sap.”

“You love it.” Nick shot back as he quickly folded the slip of paper into a star and tucked it into Smokey’s travel case. “Go on, little guy. We’ll be following you shortly.”

Smokey nipped at his hood before taking off from his shoulder. They watched as he flew off before quickly falling into a debate over what they should get for dinner.

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

OC-tober Day 26: Kisser writing a letter

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.

I mercilessly cheat at prompts lol

The original post is here by @icannotreadcursive.

Day 1

~+~

General Windu needs to improve his fine motor control. Kisser understands this. A coma will really fuck up your dexterity like that. Well, Healer Che insists it was a Force-induced Healing Trance, but Kisser trusts Krukenberg when he says no matter how much Force nonsense was happening, General Windu was in a coma.

Still, if General Windu is the one who needs to improve his control, why the hell is Kisser the one learning calligraphy?

“Less shaky,” General Windu says approvingly, as he watches Kisser’s most recent attempt. “Your confidence is improving.”

“I thought Jedi weren’t supposed to lie,” Kisser shoots back, trying again.

Windu snorts. “Unlike other religious orders, Jedi are not bound to truthfulness.” He pauses as Kisser swaps to a new character, just to try something different. “I think at times, that helped us survive. At others, it allowed others to cast suspicion on us.”

“And now?” Kisser asks, forgetting for a moment who he’s speaking to. 

“Now, it is neutral,” Windu decides, “We may wield the truth as we see fit, at least aware of the consequences in a way we may have been…encouraged to ignore them before.”

“Bright light makes fog harder to see through,” Kisser mutters as he fumbles stroke 5 again. He doesn’t notice Windu’s bemused expression.

Jedi Master Mace Windu will think about that statement for many years to come.

Kisser forgets it almost as soon as he says it.

~+~

Day 27

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 23: Enjoying a nice drink

Max having tea with their neighbours, Julinha

Julinha is owned by @br0wnieb0x

Prompt list by @icannotreadcursive

OC-Tober Day 23: Enjoying a nice drink

Prompt: Enjoying a nice drink

I used the OC-tober list made by @icannotreadcursive

Link here

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OCs: Sylv and Zid

Sylv sighed as he leaned back in his pilot chair. He rubbed at his forehead, watching as the distant stars sped by. His fingers twitched as he felt a dull throb starting up. He gave a dark mutter as he tried to rub his headache away. A soothing smell drifted into the cockpit, and he looked over his shoulder.

Zid was standing in the cockpit doorway. “Tea. It helps with headaches.”

Sylv held his hand out, and Zid passed him the mug. “Thanks.” It probably won’t help, but he’ll try anything before it gets worse.

“At least we were able to shake them.”

A hum left Sylv as he took a sip, letting the taste of the tea fill his mouth. He looked over to see Zid sit in the co-pilot seat. He reached over to pull out the tablet that Sylv uses for their jobs. “I’m worried something is hidden in the cargo to warrant that dog fight.”

“As long as we don't get a fine or arrested. I don’t want to know.”

“Yeah, but they said there wasn’t anything dangerous on board.”

“Trust me, Zid. Sometimes, ignorance is bliss.” Sylv took another drink before muttering. “I need to stop taking cargo runs.”

“We need the money.”

“Shame.” He took another longer drink. “This is good.”

“Mom’s favorite brand. I had some bags left in my stuff.”

Sylv gave a hum as he looked at the mug. “You get headaches?”

“When I get overstimulated from noise. I was hoping to get more, but it looks like I’ll run out before then.”

Reaching out, Sylv gave his hand a pat. “We don’t know that.”

Zid gave him a smile before turning to the viewport and closing his eyes as he leaned back in the seat. “I don’t mind.” He looked at Sylv. “I like traveling with you. I feel like I’ve made a home here.”

Sylv paused in taking another sip to look back at Zid. There was a content smile on Zid’s face. The warm feeling Sylv had in his chest had him looking back at the mug. As he took a drink, he let a small smile appear on his face before suppressing it. “Well, if your cooking continues to improve. Then you can stay as long as you like.”

Zid huffed a laugh, “You’ll miss me if I wasn’t here.”

“It would be quieter. Less running from dangerous creatures.” Probably too quiet, but the gasp Zid made had him hiding another smile into the tea. “I’ll miss this tea.”

Zid rolled his eyes before passing the tablet back to Sylv. Sylv took the tablet to place back into the side pocket. “I would miss this.”

Sylv finished the tea before placing the mug on the ledge next to his seat. “I might miss you.”

A laugh slipped out when Zid threw his hands in the air. “I’ll take it!” Zid leaned over the arm of his chair. “How’s the headache?” A second passed before Sylv looked at Zid in surprise. “The tea works.”

“The tea works.” Sylv leaned back in his seat before picking his mug up to show Zid. “Is there more?”

Zid stood up and took it from him, “I can make more.” He gave Sylv’s shoulder a bump with his fist. “Be back.”

Sylv watched as he walked away before looking down at his shoulder. He placed his hand over the spot, but it felt cool to the touch. So why did it feel warm?