comment_fic | Thursday: Beloved and Treasured Things

Thursday: Beloved and Treasured Things

Hi again, and welcome! I’m

creepy_shetan, your host this week. How's your "2024" writing practice going?

As a reminder, for January, we will be trying a new posting schedule. Sundays are for Lonely Prompts and sharing the fills that you completed during the week, Tuesdays and Thursdays are for new themes and prompts, and Saturdays will remain a Free for All.

With that being said, here's ✎ today's theme: beloved and treasured things. Prompts can be about or feature anything that a character holds dear. Something they fought hard for? A memento of a good memory? A family heirloom? Something seemingly worthless to anyone besides them? Tangible or intangible, if it's something they have and would hate to part with, it's fair game.

Just a few rules:
No more than five prompts in a row.
No more than three prompts in the same fandom.
Use the character's full names and the fandom's full name
No spoilers in prompts for a month after airing, or use the spoiler cut option found here.
If your fill contains spoilers, warn and leave plenty of space, or use the above-mentioned spoiler cut.

Prompts should be formatted as follows: [Use the character's full names and fandom's full name]
Fandom, Character +/ Character, Prompt

Some examples to get the ball rolling...
+ Resident Evil (game/CGI 'verse), Sherry Birkin (+ any) (/Jake Muller), she still has/wears Claire's red jacket (and something of Leon's?) from Raccoon City
+ any video game fandom, any +/ any, "Why do you carry around that old [item]?"
+ author's choice, any, someone breaks or throws away something they've used in their kitchen for many years

We are now using AO3 to bookmark filled prompts. If you fill a prompt and post it to AO3 please add it to the Bite Sized Bits of Fic from 2024 collection. See further notes on this option here.

Not feeling any of today’s prompts? You can use LJ’s advanced search options to limit keyword results to only comments in this community.

While the use of LJ's advanced search options is available, bookmarking the links of prompts you like might work better for searching in the future.

If you are viewing this post on our Dreamwidth site, please know that fills posted here will not show up as comments on our LiveJournal site, but you are still more than welcome to participate. =)

If you have a Dreamwidth account and would feel more comfortable participating there, please feel free to do so… and spread the word! comment_fic

tag="beloved and treasured"

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Any, any, treasured copy of a now-worn book a loved one gave them.

Torchwood, Jack Harkness, taking care of his coat

Stargate Atlantis, any +/ any, the special items the first season expedition members brought with them on their potentially one-way trip to Atlantis

Any, Any, a special item given by a loved one who has since passed away

The Owl House, Hunter + any, he treasures the set of carving tools Dell gave him

Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Buffy Summers + any, she treasures the cross Angel gave her

“Is that a…feather?” Miko asked.

Radek glanced over at her, then down at the single beautiful primer in his hands. “Yes. From a pigeon.”

They were sitting side-by-side in the lab, at their work benches, taking a coffee break.

“You brought that from home with you?” She was always sweet and polite, and most people found her rather unreadable beneath her mask of good manners, but after almost a year working beside her, first in Antarctica, now three months in Atlantis, Radek knew her skepticism when he heard it.

“I used to raise racing pigeons,” he said. “This was from one of my favorite birds.”

“I didn’t know that,” Miko said. “Racing pigeons sound — interesting.”

Radek twirled the feather absently, watching the play of the light across its vanes, careful not to grip the hollow calamus too tightly. “It was mostly a hobby. Homing pigeons can be useful, though. Carrier pigeons, too.”

“You must have loved them a lot,” Miko said finally, her expression softening.

“They were good birds. They listened to me. Trusted me. And I cared for them. Also, I thought that if we were able to find some kind of cloning technology, I could have some here — after the zoologists and ecologists sign off, of course.” Radek tucked the feather back into its protective sleeve, and then put the sleeve back into the little shoebox that had carried his allotment of personal items he was allowed to bring to Atlantis.

Miko nodded. “That would be nice. Pets would be nice. I worked too much to have a cat, back home, but I always wanted one. I went to cat cafes instead.”

“Tell me more about this…cat cafe,” Radek said, and sipped his coffee.

Miko described what sounded like an ordinary cafe, only the interior was full of cat beds and cat towers and baskets of cat toys, and in addition to an array of tasty pastries and beverages, customers could purchase snacks to give to the cats, and they could hold and pet the cats as much as the cats would allow them. All the comfort of a pet, none of the work.

“They have dog cafes too,” Miko said. “And they have kid cafes, where kids can play while their parents kind of…take a break.”

“My sister needed a kid cafe near her house, for her two children.” Radek sighed and shook his head.

He hadn’t been on Atlantis long enough to miss the brats — yet.

Then Miko reached into one of the lower drawers of her workbench and drew out her little shoebox. It wasn’t an actual shoebox, though it was the size of one, was instead some kind of metal, probably reinforced, because that was how engineers thought, and keeping something precious in the lab was a risk — not that living in an ancient alien city was any less of a risk in general, like with the transporters that vanished things, and the animate shadow that had nearly killed Ford and Rodney.

Miko undid the latch on the box and lifted the lid. She drew out a piece of red fabric brightly pattered with purple butterflies and pink peonies. She gathered it up in her hands and did something complicated with it — and then held it out.

Radek blinked at it. “Is that — is that a mouse?”

“Yes!” Miko made it wiggle and squeak. “My grandmother taught me how to do origami when I was a very young. I also have origami paper, because I thought — maybe we could trade pretty models, or pretty paper in general? Offworld. But a piece of cloth can be used over and over again, even after the paper is gone.”

She showed Radek how to make a hat, and a boat, and a candle, and a butterfly, hearts and flowers and birds and a jumping frog.

“You’re very good,” Radek said.

“I learned to entertain myself at first, and now I am better at it to entertain my nieces,” Miko admitted, tucking the cloth back into the box. “I can tell a whole story, you know? The fox puts on a hat and rides a boat and meets a frog, that sort of thing.”

“I bet Jinto and Wex and the other children would love a story like that,” Radek said. “Perhaps Teyla can help you find a piece of Athosian cloth.”

“And tell me if Athos has any animals like ours,” Miko said.

“True.”

They resumed drinking their coffee in companionable silence.

The next time Radek found some pretty fabric, he’d make sure Miko got a square of it.

Until then, he’d work hard and hope for a way to get word back to Earth, at least one last time.

Aww! I love this! I guess I never thought about doing origami with fabric, but it's cool that you can reuse it over and over. Really enjoyed Radek and Miko getting to have a quiet moment together. Thank you so much!

You're so welcome! I learned to do basic cloth origami as a kid (fancy folded napkins at restaurants being an example) and it was an endlessly entertaining toy.

Jeonggeun pried open Minhyuk’s battered leather wallet and fished out his credit card with a triumphant crow.

Then he scooped up his phone and fired up the food delivery app. Minhyuk had said Jeonggeun could buy whatever he wanted, and Jeonggeun was hungry, and also feeling adventurous, and — hang on.

A piece of paper had fallen out of Minhyuk’s wallet. Jeonggeun leaned down and scooped it up. It was covered in nearly indecipherable scrawl. Jeonggeun unfolded it and squinted at it. Did that say big? Or shade? It took him a moment to realize one set of squiggles was in English, but the only word he could make out was time.

Jeonggeun held it out. “Hyung, what’s this?”

Minhyuk was distracted, hunched over in front of his computer, headphones on, tooling around with a new song, possibly for Jeonggeun’s team. Not that Jeonggeun’s team would have a comeback till Jeonggeun and Seobin were both back from hiatus, Jeonggeun to recover from the stress of double-length promotions, Seobin to finish high school in relative peace.

“Hyung?” Jeonggeun waggled the paper.

Minhyuk didn’t respond.

Jeonggeun angled himself so he would be visible out of the corner of Minhyuk’s eye and waggled the paper again.

Minhyuk spun around in a flash, hand closing around Jeonggeun’s wrist. He tugged down his headphones with his other hand.

Minhyuk’s hard-earned taekwondo reflexes had slowed over the years since he’d stopped competing, but not by much.

“What’s this?” Jeonggeun asked. “It fell out of your wallet.”

Minhyuk’s gaze fell on the paper, and he let go of Jeonggeun’s wrist, holding out a hand.

Jeonggeun surrendered the piece of paper without a fuss. If it had been in Minhyuk’s wallet, it was important. Minhyuk had never been the sentimental type to keep stuff in his wallet that wasn’t strictly cash or cards or ID, though. He didn’t even have a picture of his family there. Granted, he did wear the family ring with all their names on it, but jewelry was different, for Minhyuk. He wore jewelry all the time, had become accustomed to it from years upon years of elaborate stage costumes, complete with shiny, dangling accessories.

The way Minhyuk smoothed out the piece of paper, his expression going blank, made Jeonggeun a little wary.

“What does it even say? That handwriting is pretty terrible,” Jeonggeun said, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

Minhyuk traced the lines with a gentle finger. “Bin-hyung always had bad handwriting. Half the time he could barely read it himself.”

Jeonggeun bit his lip. “Oh. Hyung. Sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Even if big waves come crashing down on us, it’s okay, because we left everything in the place only the two of us know. Even if we’re blown away by the big wind, it’s okay, because we left everything in the place only the two of us go to,” Minhyuk said.

“I’m confused,” Jeonggeun admitted.

Minhyuk looked up at him. “The lyrics to the song he wrote, that we all sang together. He gave this to me after we finished recording, one songwriter to another. His first and last song.”

He reached out and scooped up his wallet, tucking the paper back into it. Then he put on his headphones and spun back around to face his computer.

Jeonggeun stared down at the credit card he was still holding. He wasn’t hungry anymore, but they both needed to eat. So he unlocked his phone and padded into the kitchen, dialing.

“My son,” Mom greeted him warmly. “How are you?”

“Good,” Jeonggeun said. “Got a pass from the dorms. Hanging out with hyung. Can you show me how to make your kimbap again? I know Minhyukie’s got all the stuff.”

“Of course,” Mom said, then, “you having a bad day?”

“No. But I wanted to do something nice for hyung,” Jeonggeun sad.

“You’re such a sweet little brother. All right, get some rice and some laver.”

As soon as I read the subject line I was like, "Oh, no! Binnie!" This is sad, but it's a lovely remembrance too. I'm sorry you made yourself so sad. ::hugs:: Thank you so much for the emotional fill!

Thank you for being here for my feels. Yesterday was the one-year anniversary of his last album, and his birthday is this month, so I’m just a sad puddle of feels.

::all the hugs::

Resident Evil (game/CGI 'verse), Sherry Birkin (+ any) (/Jake Muller), she still has/wears Claire's red jacket (and something of Leon's?) from Raccoon City

any video game fandom, any +/ any, "Why do you carry around that old [item]?"

author's choice, any, someone breaks or throws away something they've used in their kitchen for many years

Any, any, old photograph of a loved one

Any, any, voice recording/video of a loved one

Stargate Multiverse, any pilot, the lucky charm they take on every flight

Any, any, treasured copy of a now-worn book a loved one gave them.

Torchwood, Jack Harkness, taking care of his coat

Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Buffy Summers + any, she treasures the cross Angel gave her (also posted to DW)

The Owl House, Hunter + any, he treasures the set of carving tools Dell gave him (also posted to DW)

The door to John’s quarters slid open and Rodney slipped inside.

It was weird, being in there without John. The room felt too big, too empty. Rodney felt like he was trespassing which, technically, was true, but it was for a good cause. Carson had started John on the road to recovery from the retrovirus, which he’d pointed out would be a long road and not just an overnight miracle cure.

To that end, Rodney had come to gather some of John’s things. He hoped seeing some familiar items might help get John out of his bug mind a bit quicker. But what to bring? The guitar was too big. Golf magazine? The special candle Teyla had made him, the one that smelled like oiled leather?

Rodney’s eyes fell on the book. It was a running joke between them, how slowly John was working his way through War and Peace – the never-ending book. He dropped down on John’s narrow bed and picked the book up, just holding it in his hands for a long moment.

He’d never understood it. Why bring such a long, dull thing to read to a whole other galaxy? Why not something more exciting, like HG Wells or Ray Bradbury or Jules Verne? Jeannie had read him bits of Anna Karenina when she’d been assigned it in school, and he’d been bored to tears.

Rodney flipped the book to the first page of text.

Toward the end of the year 1811 the powers of Western Europe began a more active armament and concentration of their forces, and in 1812 these forces, consisting of millions of people (including those who transported and fed the army), moved from the West to the East, toward the boundaries of Russia, and the war began, that is there took place an event which was contrary to human reason to all human nature.

He scowled at it. Why on earth would John purposefully inflict that type of writing on himself?

But then Rodney flipped through more of the book and saw there were notes and highlighted sections, some written in pen and some in pencil, but all in the same hand. Footnotes and opinions and running commentary. Was John really that into Russian history? Maybe he’d gotten it from a used bookstore.

He went back to the inside cover and the title page, and saw it had been stamped.

From the library of Grace King.

A week later, John was sitting up in the infirmary bed with the book in his hands. He was mostly back to normal; some stubborn blue scales still clung to the side of his neck and part of one hand, but the claws and the funky yellow eyes were gone.

“You’re looking refreshingly human again,” Rodney said, dropping into the chair next to the bed. He’d been spending a lot of time there during John’s recovery, sometimes working on his data pad and other times just babbling away about whatever was on his mind.

“Thanks for bringing this,” John replied, holding up War and Peace.

“You could get a new copy, you know. One that hasn’t been scribbled all over.”

“It was my mom’s.”

That gave Rodney pause. He was the first one to bitch about his family and all the ways they’d hampered his development as a genius scientist destined to change the face of astrophysics for generations to come, but John was notoriously tight-lipped about… well, everything.

“She loved history.”

Rodney wasn’t always the most socially aware, but he got a pretty good picture from those three words. It wasn’t Tolstoy that John was so attached to; it was the piece of his mother that lived on those pages – her thoughts, her ideas, her reactions to the text. Rodney had a hard time understanding that kind of child-parent bond, but he could see how much it meant to John.

“Thank goodness, because I was despairing of your taste in literature.”

That got a smirk out of John. “I’m a big fan of Louis L’Amour, actually.”

Which naturally segued into a lively discussion about why John’s taste in novels was as atrocious as his taste in music and gave Rodney the idea to get some ebooks with the next batch of requisitions so he could broaden John’s horizons.

John gave as good as he got in his own defense, keeping his mother’s book in his hand all the while, and Rodney felt as if things had maybe shifted between them a little, as it had the day John had tossed him over the balcony to test out the personal shield. There was a closeness in sharing confidences.

Rodney just wasn’t ready to share yet how close he wanted to get to John.

“For a few seconds they looked silently into each other's eyes, and the distant and impossible suddenly became near, possible, and inevitable.” (Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace)

Any, any, a favorite toy/blanket that a character has kept since childhood

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Thursday: Beloved and Treasured Things

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Fill: Radek Zelenka + Miko Kusanagi

Re: Fill: Radek Zelenka + Miko Kusanagi

Re: Fill: Radek Zelenka + Miko Kusanagi

Fill: Astro/Haww, Minhyuk + Jeonggeun (sorry I made myself sad but I get it if no one else is sad)

Re: Fill: Astro/Haww, Minhyuk + Jeonggeun (sorry I made myself sad but I get it if no one else is sa

Re: Fill: Astro/Haww, Minhyuk + Jeonggeun (sorry I made myself sad but I get it if no one else is sa

Re: Fill: Astro/Haww, Minhyuk + Jeonggeun (sorry I made myself sad but I get it if no one else is sa

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Fill: Stargate Atlantis, John Sheppard + Rodney McKay

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