#am i brave enough to uh. put this in the main tags?

[detragallery]

this ends here.

#vent art #digital art #am i brave enough to uh. put this in the main tags? #jean descole #professor layton #blood #just a little bit #illustration #july 2020 #2020 #🕯

[heauxplesslydevoted]

And They Were Roommates (Bryce Lahela x MC)

Summary: A surprise leads to a major shift in Bryce and Casey’s relationship

A/N: Eeeek, this is my first time ever writing a Bryce x MC fic! The day you guys see me writing something not Ethan centric is the day you should play the lotto because it’s more rare than a unicorn sighting.

Anywho....please enjoy!

Tags: @drakewalker04 @canknot @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @maurine07 @badchoicesposts @ermidc @sundaescreamcheese @danijimenezv @starrystarrytrouble @the-pale-goddess @gogotomago95 @have-aheart @aworldoffandoms @zaffrenotes @anotherbeingsworld @to-fangirl-or-not-to-fangirl @nazariolahela @the-unconquered-queen @writinghereandthere @omgjasminesimone @parkerattano @silent-storms-posts

~v~

“Okay, are we going out to lunch?” Casey asks, twisting her fingers into her skirt. From the passenger seat of Bryce’s car, the bustling streets of Boston fly past her. A tendril of her curly hair whips around in the wind, settling on her lip as it sticks to her tacky lip gloss. Bryce is a freaking speed demon and drives too fast for her liking.

But she does like looking at him when he’s behind the wheel. His grip on the wheel is relaxed, much like his posture, slouched low in the seat, right hand drumming against the gear shift. While it’s still winter, the sun is shining brightly, making the highlights in his hair and the light dusting of freckles adorning his nose stand out. Her boyfriend—even thinking that word makes her giddy—makes a pretty sight to behold.

“No, that’s not the plan. But we can go get food once we’re done,” Bryce answers..

“Ice skating?” Casey guesses. She watches as he shakes his head. “But ice skating sounds so fun.”

“We can go ice skating some other time, Case.”

“We’re going to the movies?”

Bryce chuckles. She’s been trying to guess all morning what he has planned for the day, and despite getting every single guess wrong, Casey comes up with another one at the drop of a hat. The persistence is admirable. “You’ll find out soon enough. Stop being so nosy.”

Casey pouts, feigning hurt. “I resent that! I prefer to be called naturally inquisitive. It makes me sound smart.”

“You’re nosy,” Bryce deadpans. “But don’t fret, we’ll be there in like, 5 minutes tops.”

He’s been excited from the moment he told her to get dressed, and Casey can see that his leg is bouncing up and down underneath the steering wheel. Whatever he has planned, he’s really excited about it, so Casey decided to keep quiet and enjoy the rest of the ride.

They enjoy the rest of the short ride, Casey scrolling through Bryce’s different Spotify playlists until she settles on the perfect song, but he’s pulling in and parking his car before she can even hit play.

An apartment complex was not what she was expecting to see. It’s a very nice apartment complex, located a few blocks away from Boston University. Casey can see the college students milling around, some adults walking their dogs, a few older more established couples, some with kids, some without going in and out of the building.

Now her curiosity is piqued. Is Bryce dragging her along to some surgeon friend’s apartment? Is this his idea of a Saturday adventure? Granted, he never promised her an adventure, just a surprise, and while she likes most of his surgical cohort, she’d rather be doing something else. Nonetheless, Casey doesn’t say anything, letting Bryce intertwine their fingers and lead her through the building.

They ride up the elevator in silence until they reach the 4th floor. It isn’t until Bryce reaches into his pocket and pulls out a key do the alarms go off on her brain. “Bryce? Did you–”

“I got a new apartment!” Bryce exclaims, cutting her off. “Surprise!”

Once the door is open, he’s pulling her in, his excitement palpable. Casey looks around the place. It’s unfurnished, the hardwood floors beneath them bright and freshly waxed. And even though she hasn’t looked around, she can already tell it’s much larger than his current 1 bedroom.

“Oh...wow,” is all that manages to come out of her mouth.

“I know! It’s in Keiki’s school district, thank god. And it’s a brand new unit, all stainless steel appliances, marble and quartz countertops, which are apparently huge deals when you’re apartment hunting. In-unit washer and dryer, walk-in closets, there’s a gym and a pool downstairs, a game room–”

Casey watches him as his animatedly rattles off all of the features in the apartment. His face is flush, pink with excitement, his words are breathless and tumbling out of his mouth all at once. She takes a step forward, cupping his face between both hands. “Bryce, I think you should stop and breathe.”

The command makes him flush hard, now from embarrassment. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. You can continue now.”

“That was pretty much it. The main draw is that it’s a two bedroom, two bathroom apartment, so I don’t have to sleep on the couch anymore. Now Keiki and I will each have our own space. Do you think she’ll like it?”

“Will the 15 year old girl like having her own room, and not having to share a bathroom with her older brother?” Casey nods. “Absolutely. Keiki is a lucky duck.” She takes a few steps further into the apartment, silently appraising it. It’s beautiful from what she can see, and she hasn’t even seen the bedrooms. “Question: how are you affording this place? You’re a surgical resident, living in Boston is expensive, and I’m pretty sure Sallie Mae is eating most of your paychecks.”

Bryce looks down at his feet, shuffling them back and forth much to Casey’s dismay. He’s going to scuff the floors doing that. “I uh...I talked to my parents.”

“When?”

“A little over a month ago, before I enrolled Keiki in school. I called my parents and gave them quite the earful about not contacting Keiki once since she’s been in Boston, and I kinda let them have it. Turns out I’ve been holding in a lot of pent up...stuff regarding my parents.”

Casey’s eyes soften at his confession. They hardly ever have conversations about his parents, and when they do, it’s never good. “You want to talk about it?”

Bryce shakes his head, memories of that conversation trying to bubble to the surface. His mother tried her hand at making awkward small talk as if they hadn’t gone years without talking, while his father said nothing at all. He bites the inside of his cheek, willing the bad memory to go away. Negative thoughts of his parents don’t need to invade this space.  “Nah, it’s not important.”

Resisting the urge to call bullshit, Casey simply nods. “Agree to disagree, Bry. But we’ll table it for now and just continue your story.”

He’s grateful that she’s willing to listen, but not pushy enough to force him to talk, leaving the ball in his court. “Long story short, I told them that Keiki is welcome to stay with me in Boston and I wouldn’t make it public news that they all but abandoned their daughter and drag social services into things, if they allowed me to be her legal caregiver.”

“Really?”

“Yup. So I can be in charge of her education and medical decisions while she’s out here. It’s less permanent than me filing her guardianship, and my parents still legally have rights, but it makes things easier. And because of that, my parents are giving me a pretty generous monthly allowance for all of her expenses. Housing, food, school supplies, the works.”

“So child support?”

“Pretty much, yes. I didn’t ask for it, but the Lahelas like to throw money at their problems. Some of that money goes towards the rent here, the rest I put in a savings account for Keiki. I’ll gift her the money when she starts college, so she’ll have a bit of a nest egg, and won’t be dependent on ramen noodles and the McDermot’s dollar menu like I was.”

Bryce shoves his hands into his pockets and looks at Casey, trying to gauge her reaction. “I know I dumped a lot on you, and you probably think I’m insane for taking all of this on but–”

Casey wraps her arms around his waist and cuts him off with a quick kiss. “If I could look at you with literal heart eyes right now, I would.”

“Really?” 

“Really.” She leans forward, resting her head against the solid expanse of his chest. The faint scent of his laundry detergent and his cologne invade her senses, and she relishes in it. He smells like comfort, if there was ever such a thing. “I can’t believe you accomplished all of this in such a short period of time.”

“Well my lease was up, and I was trying to get Keiki situated in school, and it all sort of fell into place at the right time.”

“Stop trying to downplay it,” Casey orders. “You are strong, and brave, and you take initiative in any situation. I don’t know too many 27 year olds that would spring into action and volunteer to raise their teenage sisters, all while being a resident and trying to juggle their own personal life.”

The way she says it, the awe and idolatry in her voice makes his stomach flip. Bryce considers himself to be a pretty self-assured guy. He has a healthy level of self esteem, but something about Casey praising him always causes him to short circuit, without fail. “You make it sound so much cooler than it really is.”

“It is cool,” Carey argues. “You’re doing a noble thing, so let me give you compliments you deserve.”

He doesn’t meet her eyes immediately, the bashfulness still holding him tight. Eventually, Bryce looks up at her, her expression open and earnest. “You make me sound so much better than I really am.”

Casey grabs hold of his sweater and tugs him closer, forcing him to crane forward and be at her eye level. “Mhmm, it’s a hidden talent of mine. I happen to be an excellent salesperson.”

Bryce smirks, their lips barely brushing against each other, and mumbles “You’re such a dork,” before capturing her in a kiss. Casey responds instantly, matching his eagerness and fervor. It doesn’t take long for things to get more heated, his tongue slipping into her mouth, hands going to grip her waist.

She breaks to kiss to inhale sharply. “You’ve lived here for 5 minutes and you’re already trying to defile the place.”

“Can’t help it. You make me feel like a horny teenager again, baby.”

“Well stop it.”

Bryce rolls his eyes. “You’re no fun.”

“Come on loverboy, show me around. Give me the grand tour.”

They wander around the apartment at a leisurely pace, Casey pointing out all of the different things Bryce could buy to furnish the place—“What do you mean you’ve never gone to Home Goods?”—and admonishing his idea to shop on Craigslist. He’s an adult, not a college freshman, and his home should reflect that.

“You want to know what the best part is?” Bryce asks, leading Casey back to their starting point, the living room.

“What?”

“Keiki’s bedroom is on the other side of the apartment, separated by a pretty sizable living room.”

He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, and she shoves at his chest, laughing. “And? Are you trying to say something?”

“Yeah, that one of us—you—can be pretty loud at times.”

Her cheeks heat up and she blushes furiously. “Well I’ll make sure to keep it quiet on the nights that I sleep over.”

“What if you didn’t just spend the night over here?”

He instantly regrets the way he phrased that sentence because it sounds like he just told her he doesn’t want her in his apartment. Casey frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Sorry! That sounded weird.” He flushes, stumbling over his words. Something about Casey Valentine makes him very nervous. “That’s not what I meant, I promise.”

Bryce grabs both of Casey’s hands, holding them close to his chest. “Move in with me.”

Her eyes widen at the suggestion. He wants to do what? “What?”

“I spent all of last year tiptoeing around our relationship, trying to keep things light and breezy when I really didn’t want that. And it took you being in that...horrible accent for me to finally reveal the full extent of my feelings for you. Now that we’re together and official, I don’t want to waste any more time.”

“I would like to go to sleep with you every night, your ice cold feet pressed against my legs, and your curly hair tickling my nose because you’ve invaded my side of the bed. And I want to wake up to you every morning, because even though you think you look crazy in the morning, I think you’re absolutely beautiful. I want us to cook together every day, or just you because you’re a much better cook than I am.” Casey giggles at his jokes, which only spur him on further. “Besides Keiki, you’re the most important person I have, and I want you here with me, permanently.”

When Casey doesn’t say anything immediately, Bryce understands. He just dropped a bomb—a few bombs actually—right at her feet, she needs time to process. But the silence stretches until it grows into something long and uncomfortable, and a thin sheen of sweat forms at Bryce’s hairline. Did he just shoot himself in the foot? Did he seriously overestimate her feelings for him, and the nature of their relationship?

Before he can open his mouth to renege on the invitation, Casey speaks. “We’re going to have to talk to your landlord, or the property manager, because a new lease needs to be drawn up.”

“W-what?”

“I mean, I assume it’s just you and Keiki listed on the lease, and I don’t want to just be a permanent guest staying in your apartment. I want it to be our apartment, so I need to be on the lease agreement,” Casey explains. “And I know you said your parents cover most of the rent on this place, but I want to contribute, so I guess I’ll be in charge of the–”

She doesn’t get to finish talking because Bryce is on her in an instant, his mouth crashing into hers in a fiery kiss. His fingers dig into her hips, walking her backwards until her back bumps into the kitchen island. In a quick show of strength, Bryce lifts her onto the island, and Casey has to break the kiss to hiss. 

“Shit, that’s cold!”

“Sorry baby.” He’s not the least bit sorry, flashing her his signature smirk. “I’ll warm you up.”

“And you say I’m the dorky one,” Casey teases, laughing as Bryce kisses her between each word.

“You are,” he insists, kissing down her neck. She squirms away from him as his lips find a particularly sensitive spot, but he holds her in place. “We bring that out in each other.”

He kisses her a few more times, some softer than others, some so deep, she feels dizzy when he pulls away.

“We’re really going to do this?” Casey asks rhetorically. “This whole living together thing?”

“We are. I asked, and you said yes, so you’re stuck with me, little lady.” 

There’s a smile on his face, so huge, Casey really thinks he might blind her with his pearly white teeth. She hasn’t seen him this relaxed, this unabashedly happy in a while. She can’t help but to smile back.

“You have to let me have creative control on furniture and decorations though.”

“This apartment is going to look like a furniture store magazine spread.”

Casey nods. “It’ll smell like the inside of a Bath & Body Works store in here, too.”

“You’re going to go crazy on the candles, aren’t you?”

“Oh absolutely. They also have cute wall plug-ins.”

Bryce laughs. “I don’t care. You and Keiki can do whatever you want to the place.”

“Mhmm, now you’re talking my language, Lahela.”

They talk excitedly, basking in the fun that this new journey is going to bring their relationship. They don’t know how much time has passed when the conversation finally dwindles down.

“Hey, Bryce?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you let me down from here?” Casey asks, gesturing to the countertop. Bryce has her caged in, arms on either side of her. “Despite your best efforts to warm me up with a make-out session, this thing is freezing cold.”

“No one told you to wear a mini skirt like this in winter, you naughty school girl.”

“I resent that! This skirt is very cute, and it would’ve looked even cuter had you taken me ice skating.”

Bryce rolls his eyes. He’s gonna have to take this girl to the ice skating rink, and soon. He trails his hands up and down her legs, taking in all the goosebumps that have popped up on her smooth skin.

“You want to know where this skirt would look even better?”

“Where?”

Gripping the backs of her thighs, Bryce lifts Casey off of the countertop and into his arms. “The floor of our new bedroom.” 

#playchoices #choices: stories you play #open heart #bryce lahela #dr. bryce lahela #bryce x mc

[kurodachimagic]

Chocolate and Cherries - Chapter 1

Summary: When Adachi falls into the arms of a kind stranger his life changes for the better.

Rating: Pg 13

Tags/warnings: Fluff, getting together, au, Writer Adachi, Chef Kurosawa.

Word count: 6.2k

A/n: This story was written for the cherry magic mini bang! Thank you @hiwatari-art for inviting me to join! Had a lovely time working with you as always. Thank you to my other artist over on twitter guacagabs. The entire story is being posted right now. Thank you to @schnaf for being a great friend and beta!

Read on ao3

Adachi dragged his feet on the pavement as he made his way home from work. He was already too exhausted to start his writing day with the best mindset but it would have to do. He’d already skipped four days this week and if he didn’t actually sit down to work on his book, it would never be published. He let out a deep sigh and shook his head slightly.

The situation was not ideal by any means, he was not great at cooking and it was already too late to start dinner, but he definitely needed to eat something or his mind would absolutely quit on him, he knew that much.

Adachi knew he should probably get something healthier but he refused to waste even more time walking to the store, so he decided to stop by the food cart near his flat for his usual emergency menu: two tuna onigiris with mayo - along with a can of soda in the hopes that the caffeine would boost his creativity. He was not too happy about it, but he didn’t have much time to contemplate his choice because as soon as he had paid, the first few droplets of water hit his shoulders. Looking up, he felt the next few drops hit his nose and his forehead. He cursed inwardly and simply took off awkwardly running the last few blocks home, trying his best not to slip and fall, his dress shoes nothing but a hazard in this particular situation.

The building door was so close, he could see it through the pouring rain; just a few meters and he would be home. Adachi rushed, his hand extended already to grab at the door handle when his body collided with something - someone - and fell backwards. It was as if time had slowed down; he could see the face of the person he ran into frozen in shock, his eyes widening as he saw Adachi falling, while Adachi could only think about the pain this would cause him, physical, yes, but mostly emotional. He always managed to get himself in embarrassing situations and now -

His neighbour extended his hand just in time to catch Adachi’s and pulled him upright effortlessly, his expression switching from shock to a relieved smile. “Are you ok? I’m so sorry, I hadn’t seen you.”

“Thank you! I’m so sorry,” Adachi said, feeling the heat rise to his face, partly because of his clumsiness and partly because his neighbour had not let go of him yet. In fact, Adachi could have sworn that the guy was rubbing his thumb on the back of his hand. He didn’t know what to do, so he tried again. “Uh, sorry. I should’ve been more careful.”

“It’s ok, I’m glad that you didn’t get hurt.” The man seemed to suddenly remember they were standing in the pouring rain and pulled Adachi to the door. “Come, you’ll catch a cold in this weather.”

No matter how hard he thought, Adachi couldn't remember ever catching his name but he had seen this man before in the elevator and in some of the common areas. He seemed to be a bit of a recluse, much like himself.

The man opened the door and finally let go of his hand before ushering him in. “After you, Adachi.”

Adachi’s eyes widened; he didn't know how the man knew his name, but he didn’t mention it. He walked inside and called the elevator, followed closely by his saviour. Once the doors opened, he stepped in and turned around, pressing the button for the fifth floor and finally facing the man. "Thank you, again…" he trailed off.

"Kurosawa. My name is Kurosawa." He pressed the fourth-floor button.

Adachi smiled and bowed to him. "It was nice seeing you, Kurosawa. Have a good night."

The elevator dinged and Kurosawa bowed with a smile before exiting. “Good night, Adachi,” he waved.

Adachi hesitantly waved back as the elevator doors closed. Before he knew it he was one floor up, opening the door to his flat, throwing his work bag on the sofa and taking his wet clothes off with a groan before going to the bathroom.

What a day. Not only had he stayed late to finish on that project Urabe had handed to him but he also made himself look like a fool in front of his very cool neighbour, and to add insult to injury now he needed a hot shower to hopefully avoid catching a cold. He shook his head and hopped under the stream, washing himself thoroughly and letting the hot stream relax his muscles.

Feeling in a bit of a better mood, Adachi got out of the shower, wrapped himself in a towel and went about getting into a comfy set of pyjamas. He finally sat at his desk and opened the white doc of doom, checking the time and cursing as he realized it was 9 pm already. He slouched in his chair, throwing his head back with a groan. This book was going to take a million years at this rate, he really needed to prioritize his schedule, put on some good hours into it each day, especially during the weekend, he needed to -

Adachi’s stomach growled loudly, reminding him that his emergency dinner laid abandoned in its bag. He got up and stomped over to the sofa, unwrapping the onigiris and eating them without so much as a thought before returning to his spot. He promptly sat down to continue with the daily task of staring at the document while he begged his brain to type something - anything - out. But his mind had other plans though, Kurosawa’s face and gentle smile kept popping in his mind. Maybe it was because of the way he moved, how he had kept him from falling with his sharp reflexes, or maybe it was how elegant he looked even when he was soaking wet, how well his suit fitted him. Kurosawa was like some sort of superhero, or… no, he was more like a Prince Charming from an epic battle world. That was a start - it was not the murder mystery he had thought about, but it was definitely a start.

The sound of Adachi’s footsteps worked like a metronome, helping his mind settle into a rhythm. He was starting to see things in more detail: The brave prince paced in his castle, his sword close by his side, the problems his kingdom was facing were almost too much to bear and with his father on the brink of death, it was all on him. A shadow appeared above the citadel - the… the… ‘kingdom x’ was being attacked by a three-headed dragon. How would he fix this and save his people? Had someone sent the dragon or did it act with free will? Did the soon-to-be king have secret magic powers? Maybe they were a secret even to himself!

With renewed energy and excitement, Adachi sat down to work. This new world just wanted to be written, to become a reality, and he was not going to stop it. Aided by the occasional sip of soda and a few “stretching breaks” that were more like actual pacing, he managed to draft four thousand words by 5 am, effectively breaking his 3 thousand word record from just a few months ago. If he could keep up the pace he could finish the book within the next month and send it to Tsuge for editing and review. He sent a quick text to his friend to tell him the good news and got into bed; he would probably regret staying up so late tomorrow, but now he didn’t have it in him to care. Writing was definitely his call - even if he was very close to missing his goal of being a published author by 30.

---

The commute to work was nothing short of hell. The morning started with Adachi missing his usual train and having to take the next one during rush hour - not that he ever managed to avoid rush hour, but he usually took the first train during it so it wasn’t as crazy as later in the morning. This resulted in him having a very unpleasant ride, squeezed half to death between the sea of people, feeling like a canned sardine with a bad case of insomnia. That was the other issue, the previous writing night ended up being a success but even though he’d been exhausted by the time he was done, it had been impossible to fall asleep. Now he was on his way to a long workday with a pounding headache and a sour mood. If given the opportunity, Adachi would’ve chosen to take the day off to sleep and feel refreshed enough by sundown to continue writing.

His job was definitely a necessary evil, but sometimes he couldn’t help but resent it. On the verge of thirty, Adachi spent most of his day at the office, writing his reports, Urabe’s reports, and occasionally picking up the slack of some of his colleagues. There was barely any time for hobbies or relaxing and least of all to be an aspiring writer. To be completely honest, Adachi had started viewing his day job as his second career in the past year. His heart and soul were focused on his new goal, what he really wanted. In the end, if writing didn’t become his main income, it wouldn’t matter, he was passionate enough about it to continue no matter what. After all, living in the fantasy worlds he created was more than enough for him.

Adachi made it to his desk just on time, but running those last few blocks only served to make his mood even sourer. He pulled at the collar of his shirt with a small huff, still thinking about his writing and leaned back in his chair until it touched Urabe’s shoulder, startling him.

He turned around swiftly, blush already rising to his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Senpai.”

Urabe nodded and waved him off. Then, he cocked his head and looked at Adachi in more detail. “What is going on with you, Adachi? You look tired.”

“I just had trouble sleeping last night, that’s all,” Adachi said with a heavy sigh. He could picture so many things he would rather do than give explanations about his personal life, but he would feel too guilty if he was rude to Urabe when he was only worried about him.

“Hmm, are you sure that’s all?”

“Yes. I’m ok.” He attempted his best smile. “Thank you for asking.”

“Adachi,” Urabe pouted, his brows burrowed into a childish frown, just like every time he would ask Adachi to take on more work, any semblance of concern already gone out the window. “Can you finish this report for tomorrow? The boss is really piling stuff on my shoulders and I already had other plans for today.”

Sometimes Adachi wished he was a bad person, or a bad colleague even, but he couldn’t help taking on the extra work when it was needed, after all, he didn’t have much of a life. He rolled his eyes but nodded. “Yes, of course.”

“Oh, wait. Is your birthday today or tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

“And you’re turning 30, right?”

Adachi nodded once again, hoping to end the conversation as soon as possible; he didn’t want to be reminded of the passage of time or how much he hadn’t achieved by now.

Urabe rolled his chair closer and elbowed him. “Aaah, you sly weasel. Do you have a date?”

“Of course not. I’m just looking forward to getting home and sleeping.” That was literally his birthday plan.

Urabe frowned and gave him a quizzical look. “But you have... ‘dated’ before, right?” He winked.

Adachi shook his head slightly and saw the same look many people gave him, a mix of pity and judgement.

“You should ask one of the girls out. I’ve heard Yui is single and she’s very pretty!”

Adachi slowly turned his chair towards the copy machine and saw Yui across the room. She was, in fact, very pretty, but… she didn’t spark anything in him. She looked like a work of art, pleasant to look at, but not for him. “No, I don’t think that would work.”

“Adachi, if you don’t date someone by the time you turn 30, you will turn into a wizard!” He whispered.

“What? That’s ridiculous!”

“It’s true, you’ll see!”

Adachi rolled his eyes and turned back to his desk, finally starting on the reports needed. The sooner he was done with that, the sooner he could return to his writing.

--

The elevator opened its doors for Adachi and the ding that followed made his muscles relax instantly. Only a few more minutes and he would be up in his flat, taking his shoes off and cooking something quick before sitting down to write. He felt inspired by the beginning of this new story and he wasn’t about to let a bad day at work ruin that for him.

Just as the doors started to close, someone put a bag between them to keep them open. The first thing Adachi saw was a girl with a cute and gentle look, a black wispy fringe framing her face and a sweet smile. She nodded at Adachi and he smiled and nodded back. He wondered if he would ever date a girl like her, if sharing his life with a partner and doing things together would be so different than what he did now. The answer was probably not, since he assumed nobody would be supportive of him working all day and writing all night; if he was honest with himself, he didn’t really have time for a relationship, even if he sometimes yearned for a bit of company - theoretically. Adachi blinked repeatedly, suddenly crashing back into reality when he saw the looming presence of Kurosawa behind her, giving him a weird look he couldn’t quite place as he ushered the girl into the elevator.

Out of sheer awkwardness, Adachi nodded and mumbled a quiet hello at him, looking away as a blush crept onto his cheeks. Was that Kurosawa’s girlfriend? He groaned and let his head fall back against the elevator wall. He’d been caught staring at his neighbour’s girlfriend like a creep. He ventured a sideways glance and realized Kurosawa was still looking at him with a weird expression.

Thankfully, the ride was short and only a minute later, Adachi was home, barely paying any attention to his basic needs as per usual. He made some instant ramen and added a bit of egg to it before eating it mindlessly, daydreaming of his new story and the magic system involved.

Perhaps it was quickly becoming a much more ambitious project than he had anticipated but as long as the writing flowed, everything would be ok. What was supposed to be a long writing session soon turned into an early night after Adachi’s brain decided to shut down mid-sentence, putting him to sleep sitting at his desk, his head hanging down and his spine hunched over.

#cherry magic #cherry magic fic #mine

[cowboyshit]

twenty questions

tagged by: @dustofinsanity (thank you so much my dear!!!!!!)

what do you prefer to be called name-wise? honestly I’ll probably answer to most things as long as they aren’t mean. but ash, ashley, doe, those seem to be the solid three I’m known by around here when is your birthday? november 30th!  where do you live? in a tiny, backwoods cow-town smack dab in the middle of california three things you are doing right now? filling this questionnaire out, eating dinner I just finished cooking, and petting sadie with my foot since she’s curled up at my feet after she finished her dinner four fandoms that have peaked your interest. I guess I can go with four I’ve been heavily involved with, even though there’s plenty more than that since I’m a little fangirl at heart, but wrestling (obviously), black sails, the night shift, and pirates of the caribbean how has the pandemic been treating you? uh, I mean, it hasn’t been great and I’ve had to deal with some pretty bad shit as all of us have, and probably some of my worst mental health battles I’ve had to face in about a year or so, but honestly? I just kind of count my blessings these days. lucky to still be employed, even if my pay got a little cut it was nothing that keeps me from paying my bills. all I had to do was take away a few luxury things to make ends meet, and that’s a lot, LOT less than other people have had to do. so yeah, it’s been pretty shitty, this year has been bad news after bad news both personally and globally, but whatever. it could be worse. a song you can’t stop listening to right now? it is no-joke like a four-way tie. a bunch of good songs were in my discover weekly and I’ve been playing four of them on non-stop repeat one after the other. oh! and one my best friend showed to me. this baby don’t cry by k. flay, rock bottom by grandson, ok ok by hoko, and insurgents by the poolside by denny recommend a movie. i’ve jumped into holiday mood early af because tbh I need the holiday cheer, so keeping in that theme, I suggest the holiday with jude law because DUH how old are you? thirty! school, university, occupation, other? had some college, been working in my current career for the past ten years. hoping to pursue a promotion finally since my supervisors have been telling me for the past eight years that I need to promote do you prefer heat or cold? cold pleeeaaaase! I’m a radiator and put off heat like nobody’s business. I’m always warm. name one fact others may not know about you. this is hard because I just constantly blab everything about me, and I have two people who literally know EVERYTHING about me lmfao uhhh I guess... something people may not know... uhhh... on my dad’s side of the family one half was ashkenazi jewish who had to flee germany to avoid the holocaust, where they went to live in italy, while the other half were nazi’s committing some pretty bad stuff that my family won’t talk about, even to this day. funny how two descendants eventually met in america and fell in love, huh? and when they DID fall in love one of them was half italian and in the mafia! so I always joke that my bubbly cheerful self is a descendent of some pretty evil shit, and it feels like a nice little stab at those shitty ancestors of mine. are you shy? uhhh yeah and no??? like. I think I’m shy, since all interaction terrifies me and exhausts me, but everyone tells me I’m a social butterfly? and I’ve noticed in places I’m comfortable and confident, I do tend to be less shy and more involved and interactive? but I think I can be shy. a lot of waiting for other people to initiate because I’m too afraid to, struggling to talk or carry a conversation at times... I don’t know I think I’m overcomplicating this answer LOL preferred pronouns? she/her!  biggest pet peeves? gatekeeping, to be perfectly honest. I stopped following wrestling back in 2014 because when I first tried to get into the fandom, someone was trying to gatekeep a wrestler I also liked and had started making content for and they made me feel like shit for liking them, and I absolutely hated it. that’s why it took me an entire two years of quietly lurking in the wrestling fandom before I finally got brave enough to come out of the woodwork, and I’m grateful I’ve been so well received this time around. but now I’m hyper-sensitive to gatekeeping and I fucking hate it. no joke. and since it’s a pet peeve and I’m irked just remembering all that bs I went through, ima say I’m only a part of fandom to share my love of whatever that thing is with other people who love it too. I can’t stand anyone who thinks they have some sort of “claim” over a celebrity or a show or anything. get a different identity that isn’t wrapped up in that thing and stop seeing it as a threat when other people like it. be happy someone else is as passionate about that thing as you are and make a friend. damn. what is your favorite “dere” type? I’m pretty sure this is something with anime or that originated from anime, right? unfortunately I don’t know what they are so I can’t say LOL I don’t even know if I’m right about it coming from anime tbh rate your life from 1-10, 1 being crappy and 10 being the best it could be. 4, 5, but I’m putting in the foundation now and working to make it a 6, 7, or possibly 8 by a year or two from now. what’s your main blog? funnily enough? this one. my OTHER blog that was my main blog since I joined tumblr in 2009 got shoved to the side for this one last year LOL I assumed I’d log onto this blog once in awhile, but now it took over my whole damn life so here I am I guess list your side blogs and what they’re used for. I’m going to be fair and ONLY list my active ones because I have a few side blogs from when I role-played on tumblr that I haven’t touched in over a year. @doedreamss is my non-wrestling blog that WAS my main blog before this one, @cowboysht is my archive where I am ONLY putting my original gifsets/analysis/fanfiction so that one day I can offer people a blog of just my original work and no other posts (the queue is very slowly catching up I think I’ve queued posts up until june this year), @illfatedandstarcrossed is just a non-frequently used outlet for me to mope and dump emotions when I get sad about my relationship things (like a diary! but... public? and not my original thoughts? LOL), and then I have one more blog but it’s locked and private and it’s LITERALLY my diary where I can just vent when I got shit I wanna get off my chest but don’t necessarily want people to see it. Is there something people need to know about you before becoming friends? I probably won’t talk to you daily, tbh. I may not even talk to you weekly. socializing takes a lot out of me, on top of an already energy draining day-to-day in my personal life. I have a handful of people I connect with who I talk with frequently, but unfortunately as much as I’d love for it to be endless, I have to keep that list short for my own sanity. my infrequent conversations mean absolutely nothing about my lack of interest in you or how much I care about you. my granny once said I would be the perfect friend for someone you only want to talk to twice a month and she thought she was insulting me, but deadass I just said “YEAH! EXACTLY!!”

tagging: I really like this one so I WANT to tag people, but I feel braindead and also just want to post it cause I feel like I am definitely gonna forget to tag someone tbh aaaaahh okay okay I’m just gonna throw some names out there but please don’t feel pressured to do this (it is TWENTY questions) @kennyhoemega, @champbucks, @superkickparty, @adampage, @hintsofsunshine, @audreyhrnes, @sheslikealostflower, @lancearchers, @champnick, @janelanutella, @edgecution, @superrezzy00, @wardl0w, @writinglionqueen, @orangechuckiet, @hungmanhorsecarriage, @icouldbesus, @thatnerdwriter, @rampagewriting, @snarkandsarcasmftw, @tetsuyainthesky AND I DUNNO JUST ANYONE WHO WANTS TO OK I LOVE YOU ALL BYE

#ashleys playin #not wrestling related #long post for ts #long post

[marmolady]

Pride

Book/Series: Endless Summer

Main Pairings: Diego x Varyyn, Estela x MC

Summary: (Endless Ending– set after my longer fic, ‘Broken Chains’, if you’ve not read it, assume a happy ending).  Surrounded by a barrier of friends, Varyyn joins Diego as they march in their very first Pride parade.

Word Count: 1588

Tagging:   @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr,  @greengroove

Reviews and reblogs are hugely appreciated!

Cloaked in a dark hood, at odds with the popping attire of near everyone around him, Varyyn was wide-eyed with fascination as he stepped out of the Northbridge train station, Diego at his side. The streets were awash with colour, hues that were draped over countless flags, banners, even the skin of revelers.

Diego grasped his husband’s hand tightly. He was awash with emotion; anxiety at having Varyyn surrounded by so many people, but more than that, a feeling of belonging that he’d craved for as long as he could remember.

“This is it, Varyyn,” he uttered hoarsely. “Happy Pride!”

“I am always proud to be with you, my love.”

Taylor was grinning like an idiot-- for her, too, this was a first, as it was for Estela with whom her fingers were entwined. “We’ve got this, Diego, the rest of us should be enough of a barrier to stop anyone from looking at you two too closely.”

Giving his best friend a warm smile, Diego nodded. That he’d been touched to have ten friends putting themselves out there to give him the kind of Pride experience he’d wistfully imagined was an understatement. They had his back. “Yeah, we got this.”

He looked around. Friends surrounded him on all sides, dressed in their colours or else proudly wearing ‘ally’ pins. To think he’d felt so alone before--

“Hey!” Craig exclaimed, “If anyone gets to close to our V-Dog, I can pull off a killer diversion. I’ve been practising my moves for weeks…”

“It’s been fucking torture to watch,” Zahra said. “But, yeah, your dancing will scare anyone off, I’ll give you that.”

As they marched on with the parade, the smile on Estela’s face just grew broader. She’d never had a chance to do anything like this in San Trobida, and probably she’d have steered clear of all the fuss anyway. Since returning from La Huerta, her sexuality, the identity that came with it, meant a whole lot more. On La Huerta, no one gave a damn, and she hadn’t bothered herself with labels. Today,though, her wrist was adorned with a pink, yellow and blue bracelet.

“I didn’t know you identified as pansexual?” Quinn queried warmly. When they’d discussed these things previously, Estela had always been vague-- which had always been accepted without hesitation; but it seemed something had changed.

Estela nodded. “I didn’t think I wanted a label, but then I thought… words have power. They can make you visible. I like who I am, how I love; a lot of people where I’m from struggle with that because for so long they had to hide. Visibility is important.”

“That’s my wife! Fighting the good fight and making the world less shit, one PDA at a time.” Taylor jumped to give Estela an enormous smooch, delighting in the happy squirm she caused.

“So, uh,” Estela tried to continue, whilst her love continued to pepper her face and neck with kisses, “basically, I just… find some people attractive. And I don’t think it would have mattered if Taylor was a guy or a girl or both or neither. She’s my person. It was a weird feeling, like something deep inside me knew.”

“Aw, ‘Stel!” Taylor gushed. “As for me? Basically, I’m gay as the day is long. Useless Lesbian: Alien Edition.”

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock,” Zahra scoffed. “You’re a walking fucking stereotype. If there were U-Hauls on La Huerta, maybe you wouldn’t have even needed to get hitched after what… how many weeks? Three? Four?”

Diego was quick to swoop to his friend’s defence. “Hey! La Huerta rules apply! Way too much wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff to untangle.”

Quinn smiled warmly. It wasn’t the first time she’d been to one of these events, nor even the third or fourth, but to be surrounded by the friends who’d become her family made for a very different experience. She was not alone, dodging pitying whispers while she tried to embrace a side of herself that was so much more than ‘the dying girl’. And now, she had Michelle.

“Life can be over so fast; if you care for someone, there’s no shame in putting yourself out there and showing it.” She gave Michelle’s hand a squeeze, and they exchanged an affectionate glance. “Being trapped at the end of the world can do a lot to put things in perspective. I can’t speak for anyone else, but I’m living without regrets. Who I am is who I am; and that includes the pieces I wished I could hide from.”

Grace looked to her friend with admiration. “That’s very brave, Quinn. Sometimes accepting yourself can be the hardest thing.” Especially when the people you love can’t look at the true you and do the same. “Honestly, you’ve helped me a lot.”

Walking beside Diego, Varyyn was beginning to see why they called it ‘Pride’; he could feel it emanating from his husband, creating a warmth that had nothing to do with the sun beating down. And the smile on Diego’s face? Varyyn was sure he’d not ever seen anything quite so beautiful. Though careful not to peer to far out from his hood, he took the time to look over each of the different coloured flags and ask about each one. A young woman jogged past, wearing a cape of black, grey, white and purple-- the same design that was plastered across Raj’s shirt.

“Raj,” he queried, “ I believe Diego told me about your colours. It is for… ‘ace’? For no romantic partners?”

“You got it! Basically, I get all the love I need from my bros. I never really felt like anything was missing, you know?”

“I understand. It’s not something my people have a word for, though I know several friends who have always felt the way you do,” he said, thoughtfully. “So much of this we don’t have words for; we just… be. I appreciate your sharing with me. And I am very grateful to be one of your bros.”

The whole experience was vastly different to anything that could exist among the Vaanti. Sexuality and gender was of so little consequence; there had never been much weight put on words and labels, there were no expectations that it be necessary. By the generally agreed upon human terms, Varyyn supposed he might call himself ‘pansexual’ as Estela did. The rainbow flag, though, was his favourite. In it he saw the jubilation of making it through a storm to something beautiful. Appropriate it was, that it meant so much to Diego, as he stepped out unafraid and loved. Varyyn looked at Diego, his husband, the love of his life; surrounded by a wall of friends, laughing on Taylor’s shoulder. He was truly radiant.

Varyyn put a hand on Raj’s shoulder. “Could I ask a great favour of you?”

“A personal favour for the elyyshar of the Vaanti? I think I can swing that….”

Taylor was chuckling as she ruffled her best friend’s hair. “So, how is it? Everything you dreamed of-- if you’d even dreamed you’d have the Knights’ bi legend Sean Gayle as part of your pride posse?”

“Pretty sure Past Diego would think you’d hit your head too hard if you’d tried to tell him this was coming. I mean, the time travel, the monsters, my best friend being some sort of knockoff ET, are unbelievable enough, but these kind of squad goals…? I…” Suddenly, he found himself choking up. If it was a life-altering adventure, he’d got it. What was left at the end of it was something that could never be truly grasped by outsiders, some bond, sacred even, that had helped him find his own strength. As he struggled to come to grips with the tatters that remained of his family life, it was that strength that would keep him afloat, and that bond that would see his heart start to heal. “I… didn’t think this feeling was possible for me.”

And Taylor hugged him tight. “You’d better get used to it, because you’re stuck with us. You deserve this. Just for being you… and also for being the world’s best wingman. The best thing that ever happened to me happened because you helped me believe in taking a leap. Diego Soto, I will never not owe you one,” she laughed.”So, for my next trick, I will pass you off to someone who wants his arms around you even more than I do. You’re welcome.

With a wink, Taylor spun Diego into Varyyn’s waiting arms, which draped an enormous rainbow flag around the two of them.

“My love,” Varyyn crooned,  “you bring my world more beauty than I believed possible. You showed me hope and light in my darkest hour. Diego, you are my rainbow.”

Cloaked in a fluttering of multicoloured fabric, they kissed, long and tender; the pounding of music and marching, the chants of ‘Variego!’ fading far into the background, beyond their own private euphoric celebration.

Varyyn came away slowly, his expression warm as he stared into a look of fierce affection. How could he ever have dreamed what had been held in store for him, when this lion-hearted storyteller was beyond anything Vaanu had yet shown him. A whispered ‘I love you’ from his beloved Diego set his heart, once again, all aflutter, dancing like the rainbow flag around their heads. “And I love you.”He quirked an eyebrow. “Best Pride ever?”

Diego gave a short laugh and pecked a kiss to his love’s gentle lips. “Best Pride ever.”

#happy pride y'all #endless summer #variego #diego X varyyn #playchoices #mlm #wlw #estela x mc #estela montoya #diego soto #varyyn #raj bhandarkar

[rightnowyoucanttell]

𝘼𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝘼𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣, 𝙉𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 || .G.D.

(This songs an oldie, but It popped up on my random artist playlist, and I was inspired. Haha, enjoy ig..)

Title: Alone Again, Naturally 

Summary: Veronica Chandler seems to be only destined for heartbreak. After a failed attempt to rebound on her toxic ex, she makes a routine trip to her local 24 hour Starbucks, in which she meets a handsome stranger.. and oh,  who happens to be the spitting image to the photo of the tinder date who stood her up....

Relationship: Grayson Dolan and Veronica Chandler

Word Count: 2,034

Tags (*updated*) : @dzoint ​ @graysavant @blindedbythelightt ​ @tadadolan @heartofalionxo  @beatement-l   @grayswhore @tattoogray ​@saggitariusagirl

Author’s note: First, this is total shit, i’m sorry. Second, I  did the stupidest thing of all time. I gave my OC the same name as the main character in the novel i’m writing on wattpad (to self plug, or not to self plug that is the question; i’ll take self plug for 100, Alex) why am i so stupid? Well, i'm too lazy to change it so. 

Third, i was inspired when the twins talked about dating apps and just like idk where this came from, must be out of my ass because it’s shit. 

I actually laughed at that...

Fourth, feedback is like the most important thing to me, like ever? So, feel free to lmk what y’all think, if this becomes a series I will be taking concepts. 

Veronica Chandler is destined for great things. Planning her future, modeling and working as a struggling actress, she could go off and marry some lawyer. But, the only thing she did seem destined for was heartbreak.

Ronnie knew it had been too soon. Not even a month ago she had broken up with her ex, Jonathan. She also knew this, when she was attracted to a man on tinder with the same name, mostly because of the name. She wasn’t over the man who man who ruined her life to all hell. But, the comfort of a relationship was all she needed and desperately strived for.

Jonathan, was an artist, mad at the world needing to find himself. So, each night he did just so. Jonathan would go out to ‘find himself’ and along the way he found, Roxanne, Malibu, Dianne and Eileen. Jonathan drank, and he would physically and mentally abuse a good strong woman, who for the longest time couldn’t bring herself to walk out of his life.

Each time, from the first to the third she was too lonely, desperate and down on herself to let him loose. But, after he cheated on her with a married forty-year-old woman with four children, that was when Mama Chandler intervened and scared him half to fucking hell. That woman raised no fool, and if she did it was Veronica’s older brother, Noah.  Veronica was just a sad young woman who couldn’t keep a man because they used her.

This night in particular was her rebound date at a local vegan restaurant. A fancy one. With velvet rugs, chandeliers, expensive wines, however with decently sized portions. Veronica stood outside waiting for Jonathan. Who was described in his photo as muscular, a builder with brown hair and eyes and often in there messages boasted about such muscularity.

It was dark. He planned to meet her at 5:30. It was 7:30. Groups passed her. Parties on the street began talking, while the mannequins in store fronts slept under the lights. But, Ronnie was sure, this guy was genuine, and would be the best rebound. 

But, her plans and dreams were foiled when 8:30 hit, she decided to leave embarrassed and ashamed she thought it would turn out differently, she should have known. Her mosquito allergy becoming aggravated just as much as her. She sulked. She never really dressed to impress others, she wore heels, a leather jacket paired with a silk revealing top and boot cuts black jeans. That’s when the heaven on earth shone down upon her, a burning bush of sorts.

           A 24 hour starbucks.

As she walked down the sidewalk slowly, she was tired of being let down; tired of catering to the whims of others, ready to return home and make a stray of financially irresponsible choices online, she entered through the glass doors and into the small shop in Hollywood. The cool yet humid summer air from outside was left behind in the warmth of the shop, that’s when she saw him.

A tall handsome stranger, brown hair and eyes, with muscular arms. She fell for him immediately, he was gorgeous. But, then. Veronica realized something, the same man, the handsome stranger, was either the same person or a bicep by bicep replica of the man she was supposed to meet tonight, at that Vegan restaurant.

The fire fueled deep down, but she ignored it when she got in line to the left of him ready for her Pink Drink and croissant so she could run to the nearest Ralph’s and purchase two tubs of strawberry ice cream, she’d be needing it. The line shifted. She shifted on her feet, he did the same.

Veronica tapped her foot. That’s when the stranger started talking,”Whoah. Slow down there ‘Miss i’m on a mission’.”

His voice was deep and hoarse, he sounded like he had been having a night himself. Veronica ignored the voice that in some ways drew her closer.

“I’m Grayson, By the way..” the named stranger drifted. That’s when Veronica snapped. The man was Jonathan or she thought, and he was ignorant enough to poach the woman he stood up, again, she thought.

“How can you be so arrogant and glib, after everything you’ve done?” Veronica whipped her head to the right of him snapping out of anger and then with no response

“Ah, she’s brave. Calling me arrogant and glib, without even knowing me, cool.” Grayson scoffed and nodded, shrugging it off, and moving forward in the line before stopping yet again.

Ronnie tapped her foot miserable an angry…”Without knowing you? I know you. Your the kind of guy who’s shows up a girl, and breaks the rules because you think it’s cute.”

“Do You think it’s cute?” He lanced over to her smirking a devilish smirk. She scoffed and crossed her arms with her jacket draped over one of them, shaking her head as the crazily long late night line, shifted forward. ‘Grayson’ may have won the battle by showing her up, but his blatant lies would lose the war to Veronica.

“Spare me your routine, i assume that’s what this” she gestured to Grayson,”-cut it out okay? Or, i’ll make your life a living hell.”

“Sorry, not into a relationship at the moment,” he joked before turning back to face the options board, even though his order was almost always the same. Ronnie rolled her eyes. Ronnie's eyes were tired. She felt physically ready whoop this man;s ass, but mentally and emotionally drained.

“And, by the way. No. I do not think it’s fucking cute..” Veronica replied after a few moments of silence. Veronica mumbled cruising, barely audible to Grayson. Veronica was so confused, and so irritated, she didn’t no what to believe. She sighed and went for her phone fumbling for her back pocket, and opening the tinder profile of ‘Jonathan’, “Explain this.”

The screen illuminated a photo of Grayson with the name Jonathan below it. He had still had long hair at this point, right before it’s annoyance shaggy length.Grayson was shirtless in the photo with a chain necklace around his neck. Grayson squinted to examine the photo on the app and chuckled as he passed it back to Veronica.

“You, my dear, got catfished. By someone posing to be, yours truly. I’ve never had tinder and haven’t used a dating app since I was like, fourteen..” Veronica rolled her eyes at his comment before scrunching her brows in confusion but not enough to continue to pry,”..don’t believe me? Search ‘Grayson Dolan’ on instagram or twitter, you’ll owe me an apology.” Grayson snapped as hurt in reply and turned away from the fabric keeping a distance between the two. 

  Grayson felt for Veronica, he could hear the pain in her silence, the sadness in her eyes, the facade of a mask she put on,  even if he didn’t know her name, like her he had been pining for love. The same night he had been dumped via text by his ex girlfriend, also his ghost of days of business past, ex- assistant, before Sterling. He should have known it was a mistake, and Ethan warned him several times, but  much like Veronica with OG Jonathan, he blamed love for his feelings. 

Grayson was tired, wanting to head home with a cup of joe, but this unidentified juliet, across from him caught his eye, and there was no turning back. 

The line shifted. Hesitantly she opened instagram and search the name and she stopped, in her tracks. She owed this man apology, Grayson Dolan, he was a real guy, with a huge following however she never heard of him. She followed him, sighed and put her phone back into her pocket.And yes, he was good looking, she fell for the looks a little more than the name.

“..i--i’m sorry. Guess you were right, I was wrong..” Veronica managed to croak out. Grayson’s phone notified him from his pocket, he checked it smirked, followed her back and placed it back into his pocket.

Grayson looked over to the brunette Brazilian to the right of him. She tapped her foot nervously, as she picked her brain for a better apology. She felt herself loosen, knowing he was just trying to help, and didn’t stood up. Her demeanor changes, this man was a kind stranger who just happened to be the man in the photos she was catfished with, the real Grayson did nothing wrong.

“-., so this Jonathan, what happened?” He asked looking into her dark brown eyes, meaning it. Wanting to know everything about the stranger that made him want to know here. She laughed flashing a smile all the while. Her laugh, Grayson thought. The way she talked and laughed, when she was enjoying herself, it was all so lyrical, it made him want to laugh.

He looked at Veronica, like, really looked at her. The way the lighting reflected on her sparkly eyeshadow. Her dark green eyes, her long luscious and free riding dark brown hair, that had been straightened from its naturally curly form.

“..Well, I uh, met him on Tinder and he stood me up. I just got out of a nast relationship and he was my rebound, but he’s probably some weird guy living in his mother's basement-” she sighed opening up to him. She smiled at her own comedic relief comment. Hiding behind humour was something she did.

Grayson laughed, becoming serious,”I’m sorry, that sucks. What about your ex?”he pried further, there were only three people in front of them, all by themselves, swarmed by the world living in their phones.

“He was a cheater, a drinker and beater, who just so also happened to be named Jonathan..” the negative memories stirred up again in front of her. The pain on her shoulder came back, so did the reminiscence, drawing and pulling her into a melancholy flashback. 

                                                    ~~~

"Where would you like me to go, hmm? Ronnie!" he shoved her to the ground and she fell backwards dislocating her shoulder. She winced in pain, it had pulsated throughout her body. She knew she had to do this, for herself, the well being of herself for once. Did she want to? No. It scared her. He scared her.

Once he got the clout he wanted he changed, he was living off of her earnings, living in her apartment at the time, using her car, and she was forced to nod and smile along with it like some big ugly joke of a play. 

"How about for starters-" she managed between heavy sobs of pain and trying to prop herself against the reclining part of the sofa she was thrown in front of,"..hell? Take your toothbrush and your shave kit, and try some bleach in your cereal, i'm done. Okay? Go away, J!"

                                                            ~~~

Ronnie was back to reality when she heard Gray's voice,"..Safe to assume you have a type, then?"he asked really looking at the beautiful woman in front of his eyes.

 “Yeah. I try so hard but,”Veronica felt sad,” but, i’m never the one.” she felt even sadder memories of her ex flashing before her, she shrugged it off and continued,”…alone again, naturally, I guess.”

Grayson and Veronica were now the first in line,”Hey, let me buy your drink. Maybe we could be alone again, together…” Veronica smiled, and nodded.

“I’d like that..”

                       ~~~   

Later that night the two walked into the humid, yet comfortingly cool, heat together side by side after a two-hour conversation just on life.

“I, uh, better walk to my car.” Veronica said in front of Grayson’s porsche. Her jacket was around her shoulders and covered her arms,”I had fun, tonight” she held out a starbucks napkin she secretly wrote her number on, the wind tossed it gently back and forward. He smiled and breathed out a friendly, good night. He hated to see her go so soon, but would love to watch her leave.

“Wait, I never got your name-”he hollered down into the cold night on the streets of Los Angeles. Veronica turned around and continued walking backwards, her hair following and tracing her every move.

“It’s Veronica.” she breathed before giving him one last look with her deep green eyes and turning back down the sidewalk, heading to her car and driving into the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Should I make this a series? If so, what to name it, i’m thinking lyrical and each chapter is a song name? lmk. 

AHH i'm nervous to post this, but fuck it, right? No day but today. 

i’ll stop. 

#grayson dolan #Ronnie loves Gray #grayson bailey dolan #grayson dolan au #grayson dolan x oc #grayson dolan imagine #dolan twins #ill probably delete this in the morning #grayson dolan fanfic #dolan twins fanfic #dolan twins fandom

[capricornus-rex]

The Haunt of Redemption (9)

Sequel to: A Path I Can’t Follow

Chapter 9: The Turn of the Tide | Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: It has been months since your last encounter with Cal, at that time he was a fledgling Inquisitor. In an ironic twist of fate, you cross paths and blades with him once again, and he’s keen on turning you into an Inquisitor as well—unless you bring him back to the light first.

Tags: Dark Side! Cal Kestis, Inquisitor! Cal Kestis, Redemption Arc! Cal Kestis

Notes: YOU GUYS, I AM ALMOST DONE!!! AAAHHH ;;A;;

Also posted in AO3

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 | Previous: Chapter 8 | Next: Chapter 10 | Masterlist

9 of 11

You afforded to regain your strength for the rest of the trip. The experience of being under the infliction of Cal’s Psychometry replayed over and over again in your body, certain sensations struck your nerves, the sharp pangs of the intrusive nature of his ability caused your heart to burst in between beats. The mental pain was so numbing and breathtaking, it was almost physical.

His words—the way he delivered them with his demanding tone—the expressions riddled with ulterior motives plastering his face flashed repeatedly before your eyes, and the way he looked at you was a confusing yet interesting medley of mercy and quiet sadism.

And yet, you still have the will to forgive him.

You lost track of how much time has passed since you were taken away from Alyon. While it would seem like you don’t have much time, your faith never wavered. However, you were also making peace with yourself should this be the day they bring you to the Dark Side or they die trying.

“Comfortable?” the Inquisitor declared during a visit in your cell.

“I’ve had better lodgings,” you blankly remarked. “Are you going to kill me when we arrive?”

“No,” he subtly shakes his head, you detect a twinge of mercy in his voice. “By the time you set foot in the fortress, you will become an Inquisitor—more powerful than any Jedi or Inquisitor.”

“That’s a delusion they sell to you, and you actually took the bait,”

Apparently, he refuses to be lectured, but you still kept going.

“A Jedi could never understand,” he concludes the exchange and leaves the cell.

The entire ship rumbled when its landing gears touched the hangar’s floor. Later, the Eleventh Brother comes into your cell alone to collect you. He unclips your lightsaber from your belt first before doing the restraints. He took a brief moment to gaze at you, before bending down to the floor. Your feet twitched when you felt his clutch around your leg. Surprisingly, he was gentle in dismantling the restraints around your ankles, and then he stood up to do the same around your wrists.

You rubbed away the chafe around your hands before the Eleventh Brother produced a set of cuffs and wore them on you.

“Of course, more restraints.” You blurted.

A humorless smile pursed his lips after hearing that comment. The both of you exited the cell and walked towards the entry ramp; the main door hissed as it unfolded and steam sputtered out of its hydraulics. The boy Inquisitor gingerly puts his hand on the small of your back—which made you flinch—and shepherded you out of the ship.

Both of you marched across the walkway into the fortress, flanked by the squad of Stormtroopers that accompanied him during your capture. It was a first for you to walk into the stronghold without having the need to infiltrate it. Your head tilted up, following the height of the fortress’s spire—it was mountainous in height as you walked. The hollow sound of metal clanging and lava bubbling were the noise in the background of this foreboding place.

An officer standing by the main entrance greeted them. The Inquisitor curtly acknowledged it, he turned to the Stormtroopers at the flank—ordering that only two of them to follow—and continued to escort you through the twists and turns inside. Eventually, the Inquisitor had brought you to the prison block—the layout was intricate, tiers upon tiers of cells arranged in orderly rows, it was like an insect hive except it housed prisoners for insidious purposes.

“Guards, I’ll take it from here,” the commanding, firm tone in his voice echoed in the sector. The Stormtroopers obliged and continued their patrolling in the block.

“In here,” the Inquisitor purred and nudged you to follow, his hand remained on your back.

The two of you disappeared into the elevator. Cal leaned against the wall at the back of the lift, arms crossed against one another, studying between the features inside the space and your side profile. The pungent musk of rainwater intruded the boy’s nostrils and memories briefly entered his mind—it was as if using Psychometry indirectly.

“Back at the beach, you said something,” you broke the silence.

“What is?” he responded nonchalantly, examining you from head to toe.

You turned around to face him, “That we always find our way back to each other. You said that in your recording too.”

“So, you’ve seen it,”

“I knew those words sounded familiar. That’s why I knew my Cal is still there.”

His eyelids dropped as he hung his head low, denying you a response.

“You just don’t realize you have the strength to acknowledge it,” you said before turning back to face the door.

“Oh, I do have the strength to acknowledge it,” he pushed himself away from the wall and towered next to you. “That Cal… is gone.”

His imposing stance didn’t intimidate you in the smallest bit; eyes of contrasting expressions loudly spoke with each other in the silent humming of the elevator.

“You once told me that we will always a choice. Are you sure this is yours?”

When you got no answer from that question, you return face to the door.

The elevator ceased to move, the floor beneath your feet briefly quaked, signaling your arrival to the designated floor. The door whizzed open, your breathing became shakier by the sight of the bridge leading to an apparent interrogation chamber.

Cal clutched your arm and led you out of the elevator with him. Your vision narrowed as you strode through the metal bridge. You have been keeping your cool since the trip, but now your shallow, rapid breathing betrayed the brave face you’ve put on. Stormtroopers stared at you when the two of you stopped by a checkpoint.

“Activate the bridge,” Cal commanded.

The Stormtrooper cranked a lever on his terminal and a bridge emerged to connect you to the chamber’s foyer.

“It’s ready, Eleventh Brother,” a Purge Trooper rifleman reported.

With a simple nod, every trooper stationed at the entrance of the chamber moved at the behest of the boy Inquisitor. The door rumbled at the push of a button and then it parted into four sides. Cal nudged you with his grip still around your arm, your feet dragged as he guided you up the set of stairs and into the actual chamber.

A trio of Stormtroopers and a pair of Purge Troopers followed into the chamber with you. A lone, silver contraption sat in the black midst, at its feet were the harsh crimson lights that colored the hydraulic steam that wafted about, and sparks flew out of the power cords that laced the walls. A uniformed officer was already inside the chamber preparing the terminal.

“It’s calibrated to the optimal setting, Eleventh Brother,”

“Good. Strap her in.”

Two Stormtroopers snatched you right up from Cal’s grasp and fixed you into the machine.

“Oh, wait.” Cal suddenly uttered and the Stormtroopers stopped in their tracks.

The Eleventh Brother lifted the back flap of your poncho and revealed BD-1 who has been hiding this whole time. For the first time ever, the little droid shied away from his second original owner.

“Don’t hurt him!” you barked.

“I won’t. Come on, BD,”

“If I find out you’re scrapping him for parts, I swear you’ll never hear the end of it!”

“Like that will ever happen,”

When the little droid isn’t budging, the young Inquisitor—with a sliver of compassion—handled BD by the head gently with his hand and unclamped the legs perched onto your jacket’s armor straps. As the droid was separated from you, his legs and antenna folded and then tucked his tiny body underneath his head; he was beeping in low, long tones—he was calling you for help, but he knew that he can’t break free from Cal’s grasp.

“I’m sorry, BD,”

“Wooo…!” the droid lowed as Cal’s finger found the switch.

“What are you doing!?” you glanced over your shoulder and watched Cal switch off BD, the little blue light in his scanner’s lens was fading away into the black glass. “BD-1!”

You saw the exact second where BD’s body went stiff as he was shut down. There wasn’t much you could do for him now. The Stormtroopers proceeded to bringing you to the contraption. Your steel restraints were replaced with cold, thick metal rings clasped around your wrists and ankles again as you lay your back flat against the contraption’s bed.

“Please, don’t hurt him!” you pleaded.

“No, he won’t get hurt…” Cal reassured, but suddenly a steely look pierced right at you. “But you will.”

A Purge Trooper stepped towards Cal to relay a report.

“Sir, he’s arrived.”

“Good. In the meantime, shall we give her a taste?”

That was a rhetoric. The Inquisitor nodded at the terminal operator and he turned the knob to give you a mild shock. It was a weak jolt enough to make you flinch and Cal made sure the next one will be much worse than the last. The operator flicked the knob to the succeeding notch, he’ll push the button at the order of the boy Inquisitor.

Meanwhile, the Grand Inquisitor’s shuttle arrived from an assignment in Malachor. The gaunt, dark figure marched through the hallways of the stronghold—everyone in his path gave way and gestured either salutes or brief bows, and he returned them with indifferent side glances as he walked by.

“Grand Inquisitor, the Eleventh Brother has returned with the Jedi girl who infiltrated the fortress before,” a Purge Trooper reports.

“Oh? And of the Holocron?”

“Uh…”

There was no answer that followed that question. The Grand Inquisitor picked up the hint that the boy wasn’t able to accomplish his true objective and instead followed his own. The Pau’an grumbled as he walked faster ahead of the Purge Trooper on the way to the specific interrogation chamber.

A distant echo of the elevator at the other side of the bridge signaled his arrival. The door whizzed and parted open, presenting the silhouette of the Grand Inquisitor. From your perspective, the figure was so tall that he covered the door frame from end to end. He stepped inside but remained within the shadows, a pair of amber eyes were the only things that stood out in the darkness.

“So, this is the ever-elusive Jedi. The crux of this wild goose chase,” the Grand Inquisitor hummed from where he stood.

You squint your eyes to make out his appearance: his eyebrows—or lack thereof—are in a perpetual furrow, two streaks tapered from his eyes and appeared like tears of blood staining his cheeks, and a piercing scowl from his golden eyes.

“Grand Inquisitor, I—”

Cal stepped closer to his mentor to report, he was caught off guard with the Grand Inquisitor struck the boy across his face with the back of his hand, the impact was snappy and you winced—as if feeling the sting of the slap on your own face. The Stormtroopers hid their reactions well behind their helmets, keeping their indifferent, emotionless demeanors.

“Foolish child!” the Grand Inquisitor roared, grabbing the boy by the collar of his uniform. “I tell you one thing expecting to have it done right. Have I not taught you common sense?! You replaced my one and only order with your own initiative!”

“Grand Inquisitor… I…” the boy gasped, “I can explain!”

“What then?!”

“She said she didn’t have it, but she’s opened the Holocron and saw its contents!”

“Are you absolutely sure?” the Pau’an growled, shaking the boy once more in his violent grasp.

“Yes!” Cal hissed, trying to match up to his master’s aggression.

The Grand Inquisitor’s features soften, he quickly shifted back to his calm demeanor. He carefully craned his neck towards the girl strapped to the silver machine.

“Hmm…” he grumbled.

He takes a second glance at the Eleventh Brother, his supposed protégé, and shoved the boy harshly to you.

“Make it as painful as you can. I know that is your specialty.” The Grand Inquisitor added.

The boy heeded his mentor’s request and took a deep breath. He pulled out his glove, a shaky hand closing in on you.

“Don’t…” you mouthed within his earshot, a noticeable teardrop twinkling at the edge of your eye.

He continued to bring his hand closer to you, his fingers brushed the threads of hair draping your sweat-covered forehead, and your cheek fitted just right in the center of his palm. You sensed that it pained him to do it—from the moment the Pau’an hit him on the face, you knew that he was acting out of fear in the guise of loyalty and obedience, it’s what the Grand Inquisitor wanted to establish in the first place.

The young Inquisitor focused hard, siphoning more thoughts and memories that he hasn’t fished out from the recesses of your subconscious. You shut your eyes as you fought him off in this mental tug-of-war. The more you backed away, the further he pushed on. It was more painful than it was the first time.

It felt like your brain bled as he sucked out whatever information he can take from you. The ripple of the dark side of the Force was hollow yet mind-numbing. You jerked and thrashed your head left and right, shaking off his influence but it found itself firmly clutching onto you—there seemed to be no escape.

“Cal… don’t…!” you began to screech in pain, he shushed you continuously, pressing his palm against your cheek further.

In your mind, he found that you’re building up a wall that he is constantly trying to break. You were denying him a glimpse of your mind but it was so exhausting, should you slip up in the slightest bit, then all of your efforts would be for naught.

“Don’t fight...” he whispered as he continued inflicting his Psychometry.

“I won’t let you…” you grunted.

It was a test of mental willpower. The desperate, young protégé pushed on, climbing on a wall that only seemed to get higher and higher; you were fighting back in your own way—subtle yet impactful, calm yet strong—and a voice kept speaking to you, although it uttered the very same words.

Guide those who are lost, the same way the Force guides you. Be their light when they can’t find any.

Instead of giving the boy Inquisitor what he wanted.

You gave him what he needed.

“Cal…” your lips barely moved, but he heard his name in that thin wisp of air that escaped your mouth. You slowly lifted your eyelids, his steely stare has softened into a tender, child-like gaze. “Find the light.”

For once, he felt the warmth that he yearned secretly—in the solace of his bedroom, in his lonesome amongst the Inquisitors in their common room, and even in his dreams—you gave him the one thing that he was deprived of all this time and couldn’t give it to himself.

Finally, you allowed him to steal a glimpse of what you have been holding in your mind. You tore down your walls and let him in. What he found were not answers—they were feelings and emotions, ones that he probably hasn’t felt a long while.

#cal kestis #cal kestis x reader #cal kestis x reader fic #cal kestis fic #dark side! cal kestis #dark side! cal kestis fic #redemption arc! cal kestis fic #redemption arc! cal kestis #redemption #redemption arc #star wars #star wars fic #star wars jedi fallen order #star wars jedi fallen order fic #jedi fallen order #jedi fallen order fic #swjfo #swjfo fic #sw jfo fic #sw jfo #jfo #jfo fic #angst #fluff #fic #sw fic #sw #angst fic #fluff fic #inquisitor

[r-ahh-mi]

He // Chapter 5

Prompt  II Chapter 1 II Chapter 2  II  Chapter 3 II Chapter 4

Pairing: Rami Malek x OC (Beth)

Warnings: Smoking & swearing,

Word Count: 1.9k

Tag: @hazeleyedbeth @sassystrawberryk @amcquivey @cleopatra-knowles @lovelymalekk @mezzomercury @sherlollydramoine @rami-malek-trash @xmxisxforxmaybe  @soothysayer

-

Here we were. Two people who once adored the other with such intensity and passion and love that it was nearly vomit inducing for others to watch how incredibly in love they were, and now we were like strangers--no, worse than strangers. Strangers can at least share a little laugh, friendly greeting, or smile and still feel comfortable about that, but having him just be near me was sending a chill up my neck that was uncomfortable for me to dwell in. Thank god for the square that was nearing its end as it sat between my index and middle finger. Surely it was the one thing to calm my nerves right now, but even then I hated how I felt. I hated how much this boy used to make me feel loved, welcomed, and safe, and now he made me feel awkward, cold, and, all together, just a numerous amount of unpleasant feelings. 

Rami soon joined me in taking in deeps breaths of our own cigarettes. The smoke drifted from his lips as his chest would cave in and his body would release whatever he was so needing to let go of. The fumes were tickling my nose as I smelled his favorite brand of menthol's drift through the air. He was always one for the minty cigarettes.

-

*Flashback*

“Ya know, the better your cigarettes taste the harder they are to kick down the road.” Rami shot me a smirk as he inhaled a hit of smoke as I was desperately clinging my black suede jacket against my body as the unexpected snowfall began to pour over Indiana, sending harsh wind directly into my face.

Just then Rami exhaled and looked directly over at me. “And who says I plan on quitting?”

I shrugged, “I guess you’re right, but I for sure know I will quit one day.”

“Oh yeah.” Rami cocked his eyebrow as we both slowed our previous walking pace to a halt. “Why would you want to quit?”

“For my child.”

Rami’s eyes widened as his lips parted and I could tell he was freaking out. “No! No! No Rami, I’m not saying i’m--god, no I'm not pregnant. I was strictly speaking about the future when I want kids, not right now.”

Instantly his tensed body relaxed back down as his shoulders visibly fell back into their usual place. “Oh thank god. I was--Oh fuck I was freaking out there for a second,” Rami said, running a hand through his thick curls that were beginning to dampen due to the large snowflakes.

“I’m sorry.” Though I was truly sorry, his reaction was priceless and caused me to elicit a few laughs along my path to giving him a side hug which he gladly returned.

“God damn it woman.” Rami mumbled, shaking his head playfully as he smiled while holding the smoke between his lips as he fished around for another cigarette in the front pocket of his jeans.

After the nerves and laughter had left, we continued on walking the path set in between our schools academic buildings and dorm buildings. The route was scenic and park-like, making it feel comfortable and relaxing as the two of us strolled, hand in hand, until we reached the locked main door to my dorm building. Rami had graciously offered to walk me home after my class seeing as I got done with class and he got done with his part time job at the same time that night. We somehow turned the evening into a date night. Spending way too much time getting high in the park set about a block away from the building my class was held in. I suppose it didn’t help that we ended up making out on a bench as well--who knows how long that lasted. 

“So kids, huh?”

I looked over at him curiously, “What about them?”

“How many do you want? One? Two? Twelve?”

I laughed at his absurdity, “ Did you really just jump from two to twelve?”

Rami’s shoulders jumped up as he let out a short chuckle while he dragged his eyes over to mine as he started on his second cigarette. “Answer my question.”

“At least two.”

He nodded approvingly. “Why two?”

“I don’t want an only child. Only children grow up to be--well--odd.”

He couldn’t help but let exhale raspily with a cough to go with it as he attempted to contain the laughter that was combing through his dry throat. “Aren’t you an only child?”

“Yeah and look how odd I am!”

Rami nibbled on his bottom lip as he watched me. The harsh outdoor lighting was hitting my eyes rather harshly, making me squint and hold a hand across my vision in an attempt to give my eyes a break, but I wasn’t left to make due for long. Rami placed his hands around my waist, letting his fingers spread widely along my heavily clothed body as he turned us around so he was now facing the harsh light.

“I like two. Two is a good number,” Rami finished, letting a soft, boyish grin smother his lips.

I could tell he was thinking because of how quiet he was. Whatever it was it seemed pleasant as he stared at me dreamily, finishing off his cigarette and offering me the last inhale for the square before it was smaller than the size of a dime.

“What are you thinking about?”

In response, Rami bit his lip even harder as he flicked the butt onto the black top ground and then shook his head. “I don’t think you want to know.”

This peaked my curiosity. Of course I wanted to know. I wanted to know every little thought that floated into this dreamy boys brain no matter how awful or disgusting or sad it could be. 

“Tell me.” My tone was soft as my hand came up to his coat covered arm, lovingly caressing it with my finger tips, up and down.

He pondered for a second. Weighing the pros and extreme con’s should I react in anyway that wasn’t positive. He was terrified of messing this up. Not just this conversation, but in general. This was one of those “too good to be true” situations that he was simply waiting to crash and burn, however the burn hadn’t come, at least not yet.

“Alright-”

“Yes! Tell me, tell me, tell me, te-”

Rami removed a hand from around my waist to press a finger to my lips, instantly making me go quiet.

“I’ll tell you, but you can’t think I'm weird or anything.”

“As if I don’t think you’re weird already?,” I scoffed playfully as my other hand worked its way up and around to the back of his neck. Feeling the damp ends of his hair through my gloves as I felt his neck relax back into my palm.

“I’ll shut up--just tell me.”

He nodded, blinking slowly. “I was just thinking of--uh--you know..having a family of my own.”

I was immensely confused. “And how is that weird? That’s not weird at all.”

“It is. Trust me it is.” Rami nodded, taking his eyes off of me to stare down at the small necklace wrapped around my neck, but I was quick to grab his attention as my hand moved from his neck to his chin, lifting it lightly.

“Tell me.”

He look scared. At that time I wasn’t sure of what, but now it was clear; one-thousand percent clear why and I would’ve been scared to say it to. I give him a lot of props for even bringing it up, but I suppose he must have felt that there was a large chance I would respond positively, despite how scared he was. And that is something that still makes my stomach bubble and my heart warm up, because, even though we hadn’t known each other very long at this point, he still was feeling exactly what I was feeling at that time too.

“I was thinking about having a family with you--now i know that’s crazy cause we’ve only been together six months, but  I-”

My feelings were bursting with so much love for this boy that I had to stop this agonizing pain he was putting himself through with his ramblings and self doubt and self consciousness; my lips couldn’t move fast enough to his.

But that’s just how easy it was with him. It was never work to call what we had a relationship and it was never something that I felt I had to make time for or make sure I was doing right because he never made me second guess what I was doing. If we both worked and had class all day long, we took five minutes to see each other and just relish in one another. If we had a minor disagreement about something, then we took time to see the others point of view. It was easy, so fucking easy. But I guess that should’ve been a red glad for me. Nothing is quite that easy and flowing in life. It’s just impossible. Things will crack and break on their own time, but it absolutely will happen, that i’m sure of now, it’s just--I sort of had this..I don’t know…  hope that maybe we could fix what we broke and glue or mend or--I don’t fucking know. Something! Anything to help put us back together, but that’s difficult when you can’t think of a single reason as to why things were broken in the first place or even what was broken.

-

“Beth...Beth..”

Finally, a loud cough pulled me back from my haze of past positive memories that were once floating through my brain.

“You okay?”

That voice. There it was again. I felt my breath pull sharply inside of my body, making my heart skip a beat or two as it raced back up to catch what it had lost. 

I looked over at him with disbelief, not fully believing or trusting my mind that I had actually heard him say words to me, but he was looking at me expectantly, waiting for an answer and I wasn’t sure my mind was capable at the moment of creating some sort of normal response.

I was correct in thinking this was as my lips parted to speak, but trembled furiously as if a sudden gust of cold had made my teeth chatter. Rami looked at me confused - he noted my reaction and I could see it in his eyes that he was wondering how we had gotten this way, just as I had thought the same exact thing for the tenth or so time tonight.

“Are you afraid of me or something?”

I shook my head quickly as he braved the distance between us and let his fingertips gently lay flat on my arm. He was attempting to comfort me; obviously my reaction was scaring him just as much as it was scaring me.

Rami quickly shifted his hand back to rest at his side as he brought his eyes back down to his shoes - they must be fascinating things you’d think by all the time he’s spent looking at them. 

“I was just going to say that our order is probably ready.” 

My lips formed into an ‘o’ shape as I realized the accuracy of his words which quickly made me dart inside the warm brick building.

#rami malek #ramimalek #rami malek fic #rami malek writing #rami malek x reader #rami malek x oc #rami malek fan fiction #rami malek angst #rami malek fluff

[adabassist]

COMMUNICATION BREAKDOWN

After over 15 years of dealing with the symptoms of a neurological auto-immune disease, you start to wonder if you’ve seen all the various permutations of the day-to-day things that get in your way.  At the completion of this performance, I can safely say the answer is a big fat NO… although the “disability” didn’t come in a form associated with MS this time.

These days, when I gig out, I gotta have help. That’s just all there is to it. I warn everyone I perform with that I am not self-sufficient; to my utter amazement, nobody has refused to help or even complained. I am always very grateful for these wonderful people, whether bandmates, fans, or SWMBO (who does it a lot and even revels in directing traffic to a large extent).

When SWMBO doesn’t tag along, I have to tell people what I need help with: what’s coming out of the van, where it goes, who’s willing to park my van if a space isn’t convenient, here’s what I need out of which bag, what assistance I need getting on/off stage, where things go when they go back in the van, etc.

All of which is easy to do - unless you have LARYNGITIS.

I happen to be prone to this mostly-just-annoying condition for some reason. I think this bout made it an even dozen for me. I even used to keep a “Flintstones Magic-Slate” around - where you would write on the wax paper with a plastic “pen”, lift the paper, and the writing would vanish - for just such occasions. I used to get it every other year for quite some time, and then it quit showing up. Until the day before a certain gig in the local metropolis…

I had been rehearsing with a group that played Dominican music — bachatas, merengue, etc. —  and I didn’t even know there was such a thing a year ago. Through the various contacts I’ve made with the salsa bands I’ve been working with, I ended up being the only “non-Caribbean” musician in a group that was doing a tribute to Antony Santos. Easy stuff if you grew up listening and playing it; very difficult to sound authentic if you didn’t. Our first gig was opening for a Dominican artist at a big club about 70 miles away. There were going to be about 500-600 people in the audience, so it was a pretty big deal.

The night before the show, my voice drops an octave and a half. I have a good time imitating Darth Vader and Lurch from The Addams Family.

Wake up the next morning and my voice is GONE. Nothing.

So I warn the band members via text: I will require extra consideration at the gig because I have no voice. A few jokes made at my expense, sure, fine, whatever.

What’s making this even more difficult is that a Winter Storm Warning went into effect at 4 pm, and they’re expecting about 8” of snow.  Great.

So my mind begins taking stock of the situation:  no voice, unfamiliar club, long drive through dangerous snowy conditions, Friday night traffic. Hoo boy. This oughta be fun.

I had texted the bandleader earlier in the day asking what the odds were that weather might cancel this show. He replied that the only way this show would be cancelled is if the end of the world came that afternoon. Uh-huh.

So I leave early, expecting the worst. 

First 40 miles of the trip were fine; just barely damp roads, and hardly anyone out there. I’m guessing the storm scared most of the drivers off. Those that were willing to brave the freeway were scared enough of the left lane for some reason that I made pretty good time to that point.

By then the snow was starting to stick and collect, and I’m officially glad I left early. The last 30 miles of the trip take an hour and a half, including 25 minutes for the last 3 miles on surface roads. I’m starting to get annoyed at myself, thinking that no one is going to show up for this performance in a big snowstorm, regardless of what the bandleader said earlier, and I’ve risked life and limb for nothing.

I arrive on time - hooray! Amazing! However, nobody else managed to make it by the time I arrived. (How does the guy who had the farthest to go get there FIRST?) I drive to the back of the venue to find the sketchiest loading ramp I’ve ever seen, and to make matters worse, the snow hadn’t been shoveled or dealt with in any way. And so, with no assistance, I go and park in the HC spot up front, and wait. And wait some more.

Bandleader was right - the main parking lot was full, and overflow was nearly full as well. I watch everyone in their finest concert-going clothes — short dresses and high heels, partially covered by ski parkas — pass my van as I continue to wait.

After 40 minutes, a band member shows up! Hooray! He gets stuff out of my van, and I get my rollator (rolling walker) out and follow. I am given instructions to “go in and go straight back to the stage”. Before I could get better details, he was off. So I follow as best I can.

Got to the front door, and am waved over by the ticket guy who gave me a wristband. After a once-over by security I’m sent through to the dance floor. The bandleader wasn’t exaggerating; there’s got to be nearly 1000 people in here. It's a sea of Latinos! Latinos who apparently have never seen a rolling walker before, too, judging by their reaction. Or maybe their expressions said “I wonder if this gringo is in the right place”…

Now I'm left to guess what "straight back" means. Stage left or stage right?  I pick stage right, and 200 feet later I see the guitarist, who happens to be the only non-english speaking member of the group. I sit, shake his hand, and wait.

And wait.

So I check my phone to see if there are any updates. The bandleader is stuck in the snow on his way to the venue.  The band member who grabbed my gear is looking for me; apparently I should have picked stage left instead of right, as there is a barricade in front of the stage right steps, and I can't convince anyone to move it (I picked a very inconvenient time to lose my voice). The guitarist is just happy to wait and do nothing until someone gets his attention in spanish.

The other band member finally finds us (I guess he doesn't know what "stage right" means!) and leads us through the mass of humanity on the dance floor to the stage stairs on the other side. Stairs are a bit treacherous, but traversable (stairs are NEVER good, but there are always ways up and down even if your leg doesn’t work).

My gear is onstage waiting for me. I find my chair, sit down, plug in, have my case/etc. moved offstage, tune up, and wait.

And wait...

The soundman comes by and tells me I've plugged into the wrong DI box, and gets me set up and running through the amp. It's pretty quiet though, and the chair was placed in such a way that there's NO way I can reach the knobs to turn up. So I signal to a bandmate to help, who says he'll be right back.

So I wait some more... 10+ minutes later, he shows up again and helps me out.

Keep in mind that communication for me involved getting as close to someone's ear as possible and "shouting" to be heard. I've seen more ears close up in the last 24 hours than I want to for a while.

After what I'm sure is another 15 minutes, everyone else has arrived, set up, and been soundchecked, and we begin (30 minutes late). Very receptive crowd. Lots of folks dancing. Band sounds good, everyone is paying attention, I only made a few mistakes, and the bandleader later said that I did an amazing job. Very pleased, considering this is a totally new style of music for me!

So we finish our 8-song set, I take my bass off, unplug, and watch everyone leave the stage....

....and wait.

All this waiting because I’m sitting on a chair, my walker has been moved to the wings, and I have no voice with which to holler for help. So I can’t move or talk. I literally have to wait for someone to take pity on me, as woe-is-me as that sounds.

Finally someone comes and gets my walker, bass case, etc., and I get stuff put away and make my way towards stage left where the stairs are. A band member follows with my bass and cords bag.

I get to the stairs, someone takes the walker and parks it at the bottom, and as I begin my descent, a series of women (groupies?) try to pass me going UP the stairs - like one every 10 seconds - wanting to talk to someone from our band or the one following us. It was a bit of a confused shouting match between those who wanted up and those who were trying to help me down to explain that they need to WAIT or they were going to knock me over.

One bandmate kept saying, "Take your time, you got this, don't let them rush you." That was really helpful, just to know that someone is watching and advocating for you when you’re unable to do that for yourself (one of the many amazing things about SWMBO, for that matter).

Once I was safely down the stairs, I made my way to the back entrance w/ aforementioned loading ramp, blessedly very near the stage stairs. A band member took my bass, bag, and keys, and pulled my van around back for me. I knew the loading ramp was in no better shape than when I arrived, but I was willing to take my chances because the crowd was much larger and rowdier than when I went in. But I began to regret that decision as I made my way down what had to be a 25% grade with a rollator whose handbrakes needed to be adjusted. It took well over 5 minutes to get me about 45 feet.

Made it down a very snowy ramp, through some "plow drifts", and finally to the van. Thanked everyone profusely (if silently!), got in, and sent a message to SWMBO that I was headed home.

Surface roads might have been WORSE on the way home.  Thankfully I'm very experienced in snow driving — even with my convoluted method for operating a motor vehicle — and didn't hit anything, get hit by anyone, or panic at all. Enough gas in the car, no deadlines, slow and steady wins the race, made it home in one piece.

The show must, and did, go on!

[lookbluesoup]

OC Interview Meme

Tagged by @tarberrymentats and @wastelandwandererstuff​ B)

SORRY IT TOOK ME A WHILE TO GET TO THIS GUYS spring break kept me busy xD But I AM BACK NOW AND READY TO ANSWER THESE TAGS THANK U ALL <33 It’s been a blast getting to read about everyone’s Fallout characters ;w; I’m trying to get braver about leaving comments/reblogs but in the meantime just know I SEE YOUR AWESOME CHARACTERS and I APPRECIATE THEM.

This was actually a challenge answering from Nate’s POV xD There’s stuff that I KNOW ABOUT HIM AND WANT TO SHARE but he wouldn’t volunteer or he wouldn’t view the same way so… take it for what it is! And feel free to ask questions! ;w;

It is long. Long long long. Not sorry. 16, 19, 28, and 33 are my favorites c;

1. What is your name?

Oh. Wow. We’re starting this interview off with some tough ones, hunh? Uhh… hm. My name. My name… Let me think. (overly dramatic pause) Nathaniel Christian Ronan? Yeah. That sounds right.

2. Do you know why are you named that?

I was told my name means “God has given,” because my parents didn’t actually think they’d be able to have a second kid. That and Pops was an army chaplain - wanted me to have a name reflecting the faith. He was very literal in his approach. Ronan is an Irish surname, which seemed a lot more important 200 years ago than it does today. It means… uh, oh, shoot, I used to know… Don’t worry, it’ll come to me.

3. Are you single or taken?

(chuckles) Sorry folks, my roving days are over. Got a nosy reporter waiting for me back in Diamond City... whatever time I’ve got left I’m giving it to her.

4. Have any abilities or powers?

Powers? What, like, superpowers? That’d be awesome but, hah, no. Though I’ve been told my ability to talk myself out of trouble is uncanny. My martinis were legendary, and still would be if I find the ingredients for them in this apocalyptic wasteland. Friends say I’ve got a good ear for music… Oh, and ventriloquism. That’s always fun.

5. Stop being a Mary Sue.

I know you are but what am I?

6. What’s your eye color?

Blue, like my grandmother. (blinks dramatically several times for emphasis)

7. How about your hair color?

Coal back. (runs a hand through it almost nervously) And holding up better than the rest of me, considering the complete lack of well-deserved grey hair.

8. Have any family members?

I have a son, Shaun. Piper gave me roots, and Nat’s pretty much my little sister, too, at this point. The Railroad’s been more family to me than most of my own blood ever was.

9. Oh? How about pets?

Legs Washington, an orphaned radstag I brought to the Castle. He’s a bit of a mascot for the men, follows Shaun everywhere. Yeah, it’s adorable.

10. That’s cool, I guess. Now tell me something you don’t like?

You guess? Look, after this interview, I’m taking you to the Castle to meet them yourself. Your life will be changed. There’s plenty to dislike about the Commonwealth, enough to go mad over. It’s not exactly the charming old homestead of days gone by. But we’re making it better one day at a time.

11. Do you have any activities/hobbies that you like to do?

Hah! “Duck and Cover” is a big one. Got me suspended from Railroad HQ once, though. I still say that was Deacon’s fault. I like long walks through the woods, playing baseball with Shaun, and a General’s work is never done but it does bring fulfillment. I like all those activities infinitely better when Piper’s around. Is that mushy? God, that sounds mushy. (smiles shamelessly)

12. Have you ever hurt anyone in any way before?

Yeah. Some deserved it… some I’m still trying to make up for.

13. Ever… killed anyone before?

(stops smiling) Yeah. I have. You want a kill count? Six-word soundbites about all the blood and screams and the way men look when they realize they’re about to die? It’s not a fun fact. It’s not fun. Next question.

14. Name your worst habits?

I’m afraid that information’s classified. I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you. OH! LITTLE SEAL. That’s what Ronan means! Yeah, you know, like, selkie babies.

15. Are you gay, straight or bisexual?

Aha… seriously? I’m Pipersexual, end of story. Unless you count the undying affection between my best mate Deacon, and me, which I’ve been told occasionally inspires jealousy. Honestly, I never gave putting a name to my romantic inclinations much thought. It’s always been women, but maybe I just never met the right man.

16. Do you look up to anyone at all?

Piper, for sure. She’s - the way she sees the world? It gives me hope. She’s brave, brave enough to fight for what she believes in. No matter how bad it gets she always finds a light to hold onto, somehow, and keep going. And she’s genuine. I didn’t know what courage really was until I met her. Scribbles’ friendship is… a hell of a lot more than I deserve. I wouldn’t be the same without it. And, God, she’s funny. Sweet, and - a-ha, hm… we’d be here all day if I tried to list all the reasons why I love her.

I also have immense respect for Nick Valentine. He’s a good guy. Without ‘im, I might still be chasing my tail out in the woods somewhere. Or worse. Nick was a friend to me when I needed it most, put everything on the line to help me find my son - didn’t even hesitate. I’ll never be able to repay him for that.

17. What kind of animal are you?

One of a kind. (winks)

18. Do you go to school?

The Commonwealth has a way of schooling everyone, doesn’t it? I’m a bit too old for arithmetic and hall passes, but I never stop learning, if that’s what you mean.

19. Ever want to marry and have kids one day?

I’-ve… been down that road before. (breaks eye contact abruptly) Times were uncertain enough when Shaun was born. Now? Scribbles and I roll the dice every day of our lives. Asking her to marry me – starting over – was the scariest thing I’ve ever done. A baby would be, uh, a really big change. (smiles briefly, uncertain) Maybe if – no, I don’t know. Piper’s never shown any desire for something like that. If she did – even if she did... (sighs) I – look. Let’s just move on, okay?

20. Do you have any fangirls/fanboys?

Oh yeah, I have an ensemble of groupies that follow me around the wasteland with a pack brahmin and an eyebot.They pitch my tent for me and cook all my meals. I pay for services with my autograph instead of caps. (rolls eyes, but keeps a smile)

21. What are you most afraid of?

Losing someone I love. I know we don’t get any guarantees out here in the wasteland, but… loss never gets any easier. It makes it hard to open up, y’know? I spent a long time keeping folks who cared about me at arm’s length, and some days it’s still a challenge.

22. What do you usually wear?

What you see is what you get! Derbys, slacks, a shirt as white as I can get it in these conditions, and a black vest, because that never goes out of style. My favorite hat is - take a look at this. It’s a bicorne. Has anyone worn that since the French Revolution? It’s great. I love it. Piper doesn’t.

23. What’s one food that tempts you?

You know what I miss? Chocolate. I’d kill for chocolate. … kidding.

24. Am I annoying to you?

Hah! I married a journalist. This is just another Tuesday.

25. Well, it’s still not over!

Look, if I’m not back by seven…

26. What class are you (low/middle/high)?

I mean… it’s not like anyone’s ‘wealth’ compares to what it was like before the war. I’m not living off charred molerat, but I certainly won’t be moving into the Upper Stands anytime soon. Most of what I have, I made myself.

27. How many friends do you have?

More than I deserve. Piper and Deacon are probably my two best friends though. Nick, Preston, and Kent oughta be mentioned, too.

28. What are your thoughts on pie?

You mean those damn perfectly preserved slices stuck in the Port-A-Diners? God, I’ve tried everything. I spent an entire afternoon trying to break in. What is the glass even made of? I couldn’t put a scratch on it. You have to just keep pushing the button. Over and over. I’m convinced it’s all some Vault-Tec conspiracy. There is no pie. The pie is a lie. Piper says she managed it once, but I don’t believe her.

29. Favorite drink?

Nuka cherry! No question.

30. What’s your favorite place?

There’s a spot up at the top of Diamond City. I mean the top top, even higher than the Stands. Clear night with a full moon? You can see for miles. Can’t be beat.

31. Are you interested in anyone?

You’ve - been listening, right? Aha, was I unclear about being madly in love?

32. That was a stupid question…

You’d be surprised how often it gets asked. (chuckles)

33. Would you rather swim in a lake or the ocean?

Lake. Definitely. I’m marginally less likely to get eaten there. That being said, I was up in Maine once, went out to pick lure weed. You know, those radioactive yellow flowers that grow in muddy ponds? Bad idea.Terrible idea. Maine is a terrible place and I will not be building a summer home there e-ver.

34. What’s your type?

Kickass reporters with the brightest hazel eyes you’ve ever seen, hair like Aphrodite, and a smile to make you melt.

35. Any fetishes?

Look, you’re very nice. Really. And I appreciate the interest, but ah, this isn’t any of your business. Only one person gets to ask me about those and - you aren’t her.

36. Camping or outdoors?

Camping? Oh man, those were the days. An RV trip would be the bomb. It’s not much of an option these days. But I’m used to sleeping rough, and I gotta admit, it has its charm.

#anyone who hasn't done this is tagged #nate ronan #meme #tag #oc interview #screenshot #pipan #piper x sole #fallout #fallout 4

[bakedpieceofchicken]

ao3 tag meme

its my blog and im allowed to run it like the anxiety-ridden coward i am...

tagged by @waxwingedhawks 

Ao3 account: lemondropped (if you go look for it, theres 0 works attached. you can still find my bad apple series though... bleh. thanks, i hate it. despite it being the most popular thing ive ever written)

Current Writing Summary:

Current word count for the year:  68252

Number of stories (including drabbles) posted to ao3: 26 

Fandoms I wrote for: 9

Pairings I have written for:

Background pairings? Tododeku, Bakushima, Tsuchako, Shigadabi 

Main pairings? Dabihawks, Shigahawks, Shigadabihawks (oh, there’s a pattern, isn’t there?)

Story with the most kudos: Bad apple, regrettably

Story with the most bookmarks / Story with the most subscriptions: I’ll find you sooner than the stars, more regrettably (people wanna know what comes next? why?!)

Story I’m most proud of: shitty dad club (its the one fic i can say i have no problems with despite having written it like 4-5 months ago.....)

What’s ahead: 

- family dinner reunion future fic  

- hotwings music festival AU ft. league of villains (was written for day 2 quirkless dabihawks week 2k19, want to put a lot of care into it. i have no idea if ill get hate for associating myself with this fic cause someone out there might have a problem with it but eh i guess ill just have to post it when finished and see.)

- shigahawks childhood friends AU (i have like 4k words written so far? its more canon divergence than actual AU but im taking my time with it. whether its any good or not is anybody’s guess)

- the second half of supreme art of war...................................... camera pans into my face if i ever told you i had any idea what i was doing, it was all a fucking lie. Also the first half needs to be renovated/edited to be like... better. it feels a little unpolished and even at the time of writing that first chapter, i was perfectly aware how OOC the last part was but also i’m getting a little better at writing shigaraki because this man somehow sneaks his way into all my fics now... anyways...

- i started working on this pro heroes interact with Hawks story but idk if i’ll ever finish it lol. i think im like 4/9 pro-heroes done? there’s a +1 too (is this story format dead? who knows, ah whatever im still doing it)

- fuyumi fic thats getting finished at the pace of a snail. im putting a lot of care and effort into it, is all. probably will turn out boring but eh :) that’s the risk you gotta take when writing fanfiction

- chapter 4 of ill find you sooner than the stars? here (i made this a couple of weeks ago):

i probably... need to go back... and edit this one too.... to be less edgy................. or maybe i should just embrace the edginess. become self aware. like dont half-ass the edginess, go all the way in. deliver the edgy angst story everyone wants me to!!!! ahahaha starts coughing i can’t believe im associating myself with this piece of hot garbage that people apparently like. nobody cares but im definitely going to shift the story (assuming i continue it) to monoma and shinsou because im kinda sick of deku and the deku POV probably doesnt serve the narrative too well in the long run. amazing, 10/10 bakedpieceofchicken, youre hot edgy deku trash we all know now :eyes: 

ill tag @izdekumidoriya (have u done it already? i have no idea! sorry for making you look at this lol... hopefully u just scanned it instead of actually reading what i put down), @tsvchakos (if youre seeing this, it means i got over my anxiety to post this! woo!!!!), and uh... im not feeling particularly brave enough to tag more mutuals (knowing they have to see this post...) so i’ll leave it at that. if you want to do it, go ahead. you can say i tagged you too :>

#bakedpieceofchicken being an idiot #im still slowly working on the other tag meme #i have 4/5 characters i need to look for the last one lmao #i dont know if i have to say this but dont reblog #not bnha #posting this required a battle against myself

[lethesomething]

A writer tag thing

I was tagged by @tottwritesfanfic and it’s an excuse to talk about fanfic. Let's do this!

1. How did you come up with your username and what does it mean?

Uh. Um. Since I am an Old, this username has existed since forever, and acquiring it involved a goth themed IRC chat room and some virtual naked table dancing. The Lethe refers to the River of Oblivion in ancient Greek Underworld mythology, because again, I was Very Goth at the time. I'd… I'ma leave it at that.

2. Which fanfic of yours has the most feedback? (bookmarks/subscriptions/hits/kudos).

That'll be Chocolate Hearts. It's not the one with the most hits, because it's not porn, but it's getting there, considering it was only posted in August. That whole fic was such an incredible experience, because I was getting daily feedback from people as I was writing publishing it.

3. What is your AO3 profile icon, and why did you choose it?

It's Shimizu Kiyoko, because I still mostly write Haikyuu, and because she's awesome (and I, too, wish to be awesome).

Let’s put a cut here because this is Long.

4. Do you have any regular/favourite commenters?

I'd rather not name names, but I met at least one of my friends through AO3 comments. There's also a commenter whose style I liked so much that I started copying it for comments on other people's work. I absolutely notice when people drop by regularly, and I love every one of those people. I try to follow them back. There are few feelings more rewarding to me as a writer than seeing someone like one of my stories, and then go through the other ones I wrote for that fandom.

 5. Is there a fanfic that you keep going back to read again and again?

I don't regularly re-read fics, because I have enough trouble keeping up with fiction I feel like I *should* be reading. In that sense, the ones I keep going back to are the long ones I'm subscribed to. Bell, book and candle is my go-to plane fic for when I'm travelling, for instance. It's a 1k page pdf on my phone and I try to go back and comment on the chapters I finished when I get to a computer (or like three months later, most likely).

6. How many stories are you subscribed to? How many do you have bookmarked?

*Opens statistics page* I don't so much subscribe to stories, as I do to people. And I'm apparently subscribed to 22 people. I have 33 bookmarks, but that's mostly because sometimes I'll go back through my history and bookmarks stuff that I still like a few months later.

7. Which AU do you find yourself writing the most?

Urban fantasy. That seems to be the AU where my mind goes into every single direction and comes back with 60k worth of words every time. Also, a disproportionate amount of characters in my fics end up being bakers or baristas. So, uh, make of that what you will.

8. How many people are subscribed and bookmarked to you in total? (you can view this on the stats page)

Um, I have 36 user subscriptions. 299 bookmarks. And 117 subscriptions to various fics.

9. Is there something you’d like to write about but are afraid of people judging you for it? (Feeling brave? If so, share it!)

Well, there's always stuff you come up with that maybe shouldn't be put to paper. When it comes to very self-indulgent, or very smutty, I try to stay my hand. I struggled a long time with whether or not I should publish any smut at all, because I don't want like… my colleagues to find it. What I ended up with, was several fail safes, and the promise to myself that I would only write… acceptable smut (so no werewolf orgies for you! not that I, uh, would write them otherwise).

10. Is there anything you would like to be better at? Writing certain scenes or genres, replying to comments, updating better, etc.

So, uh, the very specific reason I started writing smut at all, was because that is the hardest thing to do. For me. Sex is, a lot of the time, awkward and funny and feely and there's a lot of emotions and actions going on, and I very specifically do not want to write lifeless mechanical porn sex. Because that's not what I'm here for. But that's difficult. I write to have the kind of stuff I want to Read, and I'm very friggin picky when it comes to smut, so it takes me longer to write 1k of smut than it does to write 20k of teen rated fluff. I wish I was better on that front.

11. Do you write rarepairs or popular ships more often?

It's a mixed bag. I'm pretty sure me and @leeva-art  are the pioneers of all ShinToko content. And I did that whole SugaTen one. Looking through the list, I actually did a fair amount of rarepair shorts. I kinda like writing rarepairs because there's a lot more of the dynamic for me to explore.  But I'm currently writing a series full of popular ships (YamaYachi, DaiSuga, KageHina, IwaOi), because sometimes, those are popular for a reason. To be honest, I think the ship I write most is 'x reader', and I'm fairly certain that's an under-reported popular ship.

12. How many stories have you posted on AO3 to this day (finished and unfinished)?

I have 21 works on AO3 in total. All of those are finished one-shots or multichapters, except the one I'm currently working on. Yes, I'm proud of this :P.

13. How many stories do you have saved in/with your writing program?

Oh god. So apart from the current multichapter one I have… one longish romance story that's been gathering dust for two years (The Aomine. I swear I will finish it one day), and… about four smut shorts in various states of unfinished-ness. And an Aizawa short that is like smut in the sense that it's a lot of action and feels and I'm Struggling.

14. Do you write down story ideas, or just keep them in your head?

I do both. I'm a bit of a daydreamer, so I like to play ideas and scenarios in my head for a while, and then I jot them down when they've grown enough. But I'm also a talker, and anyone who has chatted with me for any length of time probably knows that an Idea can take root in a convo and I basically talk it out and two months later there's a massive fic brewing. My brain is an overexcited puppy.

15. Have you ever co-authored a story?

Nope. It's not that I don't want to, I'm just not sure how that would work practically.

16. How did you discover AO3?

It's all Rin's fault. I pretty much only got into fanfic after watching Free! and discovering the joys of tumblr. Fairly certain I discovered AO3 while looking for Quality SouRin.

17. Do you consider yourself to be a popular or famous author in your fandom(s) on AO3?

Ahahahaha…no.

18. Do you have a nickname or fandom name for your readers?

That would be weird? I'm not Lady Gaga.

19. Was there an author who inspired or encouraged you to write?

I've been writing since I was a little girl. So the first stories I wrote were probably inspired by that one teacher I had when I was eight, that kept saying I was good at this. But I remember in my teens, wanting to write like Anthony Horowitz, and later like Terry Prattchett, or Douglas Adams. As for writing fanfic, that is the fault of Aleramicci and A Shadow so Great. That was the first time I saw someone take that level of world building and lore creation and character development, and spin it into this… epic tale. Because I have always imagined scenarios and characters in my day dreams, I was creating alternate endings for the Three Musketeers at 13, but I didn't think anyone else was willing to read them. I thought fanfic was, well, smut. And she showed me that you can create worlds out of nearly nothing (please remember that 2014 League of Legends Lore was total shit), and do it Well, and write it well, and… ugh.

20. What writing advice would you give to a beginning author?

Ok, where's that meme. I think the main thing is… just do it. You've got stories, you write them. But know that it is work. Like every hobby, it takes time, it takes energy and effort. You need to Make that Time. Very few people can sit down and just have the words flow out of their fingers. For most, it's Work. Once you know that, and you make the conscious decision to do the work, you can get shit done.

21. Do you plot out your stories, or do you just figure it out as you go?

I try to plot up to a certain level but I leave room for a lot of improv. Like especially for longer fics, I'll have a vague idea of where the characters end up and what needs to happen for the finale to… happen. The actual scenes aren't plotted though. I write better when I just let the scene take me where it wants to go. I've learned a lot from the Lock, the Key and the Sacrifice, in that it was my first Very Long multichaptered fic and it was Mostly Improvised. This meant that some character development got lost, and that I had to write myself out of some weird situations but also, some of the best scenes in that fic are complete bursts of random inspiration. Since then, I've gotten a bit more organized. I use OneNote to jot down 'spur of the moment' scenes to slot into stories later, and to make time lines and character profiles and all that. The actual fic is still me opening the Word doc and going 'ok, it's day six in this story, what should happen today'.

22. Have you ever gotten a bad comment on a story? If so, what did you do?

I don't think so? AO3 readers are very nice and disciplined, I think. Either that or I've been very lucky. All I've gotten were a few comments that left me flustered, mostly along the lines of 'when are you updating', when I keep a very tight schedule. That sort of thing. I just leave those be.

23. Is there a certain type of scene that you have a hard time writing? (action, smut, etc..)

See above: smut.

24. What story(s) are you working on now?

Currently, My Girlfriend is a Goddess?!, which is a fantasy exchange gift that ballooned into a very long, multichapter and possibly trilogy book type thing.

25. Do you plan your next project(s) before you finish your current ongoing story(s)?

The Plan is to finish book one of My Girlfriend is a Goddess?! (the YamaYachi, aka the actual exchange gift), then take a break for some one-shots and whatnot, and then continue to book two (the DaiSuga one). So yes, I do try to stay somewhat disciplined. This isn't to say that inspiration can't strike like a vengeful god and I have to rearrange the whole thing. Chocolate Hearts happened while I was trying to work on the TenSuga, and it got written in like a month of furious typing. Shit just happens, man.

26. Do you have a daily writing goal set for yourself?

No. I have a very unstable work schedule, and sometimes I'm just tired. I try to get certain chapters finished on a weekly basis though. I learned with NaNo that when I try to write too much in one go, the output is also not that great. I need to write, and then do a whole bunch of editing, and then write again.

27. Do you think you’ve improved as a writer since you first started?

Things are certainly going smoother now than they did two years ago. It's a certain… confidence? I think? A rhythm you get into. I got wordier, too. Not sure if that's a good thing.

28. What is your favorite story that you’ve written?

This is hard. That is a hard question. For the longest time, my fave story was Balance. But if I read it now, it does show its age. So I'm going to say The lock, the key and the sacrifice. I will always be super proud of that, because that's my first and currently only 'book' and I worked a year and a half on it. Not every part of it is amazing, but there's some Pretty Good Parts and I just felt such an immense relief and… satisfaction on finishing it.

29. What is your least favorite story that you’ve written?

One of the first things I published was an Iwaizumi smut short. It's… ok, but it has some issues that I would iron out if I were to write it again.

30. Where do you see yourself (as a writer) in 5 years?

When I was little I had this Plan to write a bestseller and sell it to Hollywood and then buy a castle in Scotland and basically be JK Rowling, but I sincerely doubt that's going to happen. Goals, tho.

31. What is the easiest thing about writing?

Coming up with random shit that blossoms into big, huge ideas and worlds and complicated plot lines. Like… that happens without me trying.

32. What is the hardest thing about writing?

The bit where you sit down to write through a part you've been struggling with. Those few paragraphs that you need to connect scene A and scene B, for it to make logical sense.

33. Why do you write?

Because I like it. Because I enjoy building worlds and scenes and characters, and sharing them. Because like all kinds of creative work, it has gained me relationships and connections to people I resonate with. Also, ngl, for the kudos and the comments. I get a lot of joy from seeing people enjoying my work.

 The tagging part. Um, I dunno if @skittidyne has done this one yet.  Also the usual suspects: @bsinoranges, @haruhi02 and @thekuroiookami   Consider it a subtle nudge if anyone else wants to do this.

#lethey writes #tag thing

[saintcheesus]

So @galpalaven and I had a very pleasant and heartbreaking conversation about the one and only turian bad-boy Garrus Vakarian, and through this I was finally able to muster enough courage to write this thing. I hope you enjoy!! 

----

“Is there something wrong with Garrus?” Liara approached Leona in the mess hall and interrupted her afternoon coffee break. Leona sighed and put the mug down. She was the third person to ask that today. First it was James, then it was Tali, and now her. Truth be told she hadn’t seen him at all that day, and while it was unusual, she simply chalked it up to him being busy with calibrations or keeping Palaven safe.

God. Palaven. She could never erase his face when he looked up at the burning planet. Fear, anger, sadness. Of course, she had been the same when Earth was attacked, but she didn’t have family there.

“I haven’t seen him all day.”

“I saw him a while ago. He was sitting at the table and he looked…I’m not sure what to call it, Leona, but he was distant and while I am no psychologist I fear he might have been disassociating.”

That worried her. She loves Garrus more than she ever thought she could. She tells him every night just before they settle for bed that she wants him to know that if he ever needed to talk, if he ever needed company, anything, she was there for him and each time he would at her and smile and say that he knows. She knows that Garrus has a hard time with accepting the fact that he isn’t a burden, and that he can afford to be selfish with his emotions. He always tells her the same thing, she only wished he could believe it himself.

“He hasn’t come out of the main battery since?”

Liara shook his head.

“I’ve come out to see if maybe he left, but his door has been closed.”

For a moment, Leona thought about getting EDI to pull up the feed from inside of the battery, but thought against it. Garrus didn’t deserve to have his privacy breeched like that. Not again, at least. She took another sip of her coffee and told Liara that she would handle it. Liara gave her a small smile and returned to her room. Leona, on the other hand, took careful steps towards the battery’s door, almost hesitant to open it. She knocked first, and there was no answer but there was also no one telling her to go away either. She opened the door and walked in to find him sitting on one of the crates, staring at the floor, as still as the air in the battery. He didn’t even react to her coming in.

“Garrus?”

Still nothing. She made her way over and took a seat next to him.

“Hey,” She nudged him slightly. He jumped in response and she watched as he slowly came to remember where he was.

“Oh, Leona.”

Her brows furrowed at the way he whispered her name. It didn’t sound like him, she didn’t like it.

“You okay there big guy?”

He took a while to answer her and as she suspected, he nodded and moved to get up. “Yes, yeah, I was…just taking a break.”

“By locking yourself in here all day? You know the rest of crew is worried about you right?”

His back was to her now, his face turned slightly to show that he was still listening, but he didn’t respond. She stood too and leaned on the wall.

“Garrus what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Leo…I’m fine.”

He sounded so tired and…sad and she wished that he would confide in her like she does with him. She just stared and watched him type away on the control panel in front of him, he wasn’t doing any work on the gun, she knew better. She shook her head and pushed herself off the cold metal wall. She moved to the entrance of the room and said, “You know sometimes I wish you would understand there’s nothing wrong with not being okay, Garrus. You aren’t being selfish, and you most certainly are not burdening me with your problems.”

He stopped typing and his hands dropped to his sides like they were too heavy to lift. His shoulders sagged and he looked down. She turned to leave the room when she heard his voice, almost too soft for ears to pick up.

“I’m tired, Leona.”

And in that moment her heart broke. She spun on her heel and grabbed his hand, ushering him to the elevator so that they could talk privately in their room. He sank down to the bed and Leona sat beside him, rubbing her fingers on his hand.

“What’s wrong Garrus?” She was trying to speak as softly as possible because he wasn’t one to share his emotions and she hated that he suffered in silence.

“A few weeks before you came to Menae…my mom…she uh…she….”

God. Was all she could think. He didn’t even need to hear the last word to know what he was going to say. How long had he been keeping this to himself?

“It’s okay Garrus, you don’t have to finish the sentence.” She never heard such raw pain in his voice and she wasn’t sure if turians could cry, she didn’t want to find out.

“I wasn’t sure if I could, to be honest.” He let out a dry laugh and she winced. It sounded like it hurt to even do that.

“What was she like?” It was the only thing she could think to ask. The only way she could comment and comfort him without giving away that she knew all along.

She remembers the Shadow Broker dossiers, and the first one she tapped on was his. She debated for a long time if she wanted to read it, but there was so much she didn’t know about him, and so much she missed out on while she was dead. She read about his mother and how Garrus donated all his money to helping her, how he convinced Mordin to send Collector tissue to the facility without her, and possibly the Illusive Man knowing. He claimed that the wine was all he could afford on a vigilante’s salary, but she knew the real reason and could only smile in response to his joke. She was half tempted to send her own contribution, but she didn’t want Garrus to feel violated and betrayed that she knew. She knew about his sister and his father and wondered just how lonely Garrus felt. She only wants him to be happy and her want became too much for her to think about and so she told Liara when she visited the ship.

His mandible flickered, if he didn’t want to talk then she wouldn’t press him, but she sat and waited.

“She was beautiful, and I know that’s the first thing everyone says about their mother but she really was. Unlike my dad, she never pushed me, never got mad at me for not being the ideal son. She just let me be and I was so grateful for her. She was kind, and strong, and so full of life, Leona. I used to be so happy to just be with her and have her near me. She would always tell me she loved me and I always felt so safe around her.”

Leona felt tears pricked her eyes at the way he spoke about her. This was a side of Garrus she wanted to see more, so unabashedly full of love and kindness, the real Garrus.

“She let me cry, she let me smile and she let me laugh. Before you, Leo, she was the best woman in my life. Solana was okay too, I guess.” They both chuckled at that.

“She would’ve loved you.” He whispered. Leona stroked the side of his face, feeling the scar underneath her touch.

“I know you want to know what happened, and I’ll tell you as much as I can but you’ll forgive me for not lingering on it. She got sick, Corpalis Syndrome is what it’s called. It’s a rare neurological degenerative disease for turians. I’m not too sure about human diseases but it means that she had trouble remembering things, or sometimes it was as if she was never sick. It’s terminal, and there really isn’t much known about it, or really any treatment that works to halt it or cure it entirely.”

Leona was telling herself that she would find a cure for it one day. She helped cure the genophage why couldn’t she cure this? She could donate money, and name the donation after his mother. She certainly doesn’t have a shortage of credits, and she wants to make him happy.

“Dad…I know he’s trying to keep a brave face for us, but I know he’s hurting. She was the love of his life, anyone could see that, and turians bond for life. I’m glad Sol was still there with him, I don’t think he would have wanted to be alone. He spent a lot of credits trying to keep her alive, and I know a large portion of it came from the retirement fund he’s been saving for years. See that’s the thing about my father, he acts unshakeable but he’s not. He spent a lot of time on the Citadel during our childhood, but when he came back home, he always looked so ecstatic to see her. They would touch face plates a lot and whisper things to each other, but the way his subharmonics reacted whenever he saw her…you’d have to hear it to believe it. I only got to see her a little before she…but it never failed that I would see him curled up on the chair next to her bed, fast asleep, holding her hand. I hope he’s okay…”

She kept stroking his face, staring at him even though he wasn’t facing her. In this short time, she learned so much about him, about his family and it motivated her even more to stop the Reapers once and for all. So that Garrus’ question would be answered.

“I hope so too Garrus. I hope so too…”

----

I’ll also tag @shakarian-calibrations @ao3feed-shakarian @emmavakarian-theirin

#shakarian #garrus vakarian

[skeletorific]

How would Raspberry react if Salt's store was being robbed and Salt and the rest of their co-workers were being held hostage while they robbed it?

YAAAAS Saltberry makes a long-awaited (okay maybe just by me) comeback. Anyways, I’m setting this after Rasp has been nurturing this crush for a few months, and most of the staff is pretty familiar with him at this point. This’ll be written from the perspective of Salt. Forgive me length gods, I couldn’t resist a mini-fic

You know, when they cover what to do in the event of a hostage situation, most of us just laugh it off during orientation.

Because really, who’s gonna try? This isn’t LA or some shit like that. This is a crummy department store, in a shitty mall, in the middle of stars-who-cares. The closest we get to importance is we’re right at the foot of Ebott, but really, before monsters left and we all discovered maybe they weren’t as shitty as we all thought, who wanted to live next to a hive of potential bloodsuckers that could crack open at any minute?

So yeah, they cover it in orientation. Procedures, tactics to avoid enraging the assailant, how to spot a bulge that might be a gun. Its always a joke among the new kids on that day of training. They point to men with baggy shirts and say in mock serious tones “Better keep an eye on that one.” I did the same thing. You delete the information to leave space for the shit-ton of buttons on the cash register and uniform regulations you need to remember and move on with your day.

So needless to say, when the guy pulled a gun on Sadie and started screaming at all of us to get on the ground, we didn’t exactly move in orderly fashion.

I was just at the next till when it happened. Why didn’t I spot the gun bulge? Well, truth be told, I was fantasizing about leaving. Just ten minutes left of my shift. Could’ve been on my way home, heard about it on the news. Now instead I’m sitting quietly where he can see me, phone and shoes in a pile with the others’ in the middle of the floor. Two other guys had come out of the woodwork and were helping him keep us in line.

The first guy made Lin and Marcus bar the doors to make sure security didn’t get in. At that point all of us were just trying to do what he said. All of us were essentially shaking in our boots and just going obediently with what he said. So they both got up, started barring doors…..and then Marcus had to be a hero and yell out the front door for Paul, the closest mall cop, to do something. Got a bullet in his shoulder for his trouble.

That’s when it went from a shitty event to a nightmare.

Fortunately, Dani, our manager, knows a thing or two about first aid. The guy with the gun let her patch Marcus up (poor guy was in a lot of pain, but trying to be brave. Or maybe he was just stupid.) But that didn’t solve the problem outside.

Paul, fortunately, knew better than to charge in guns blazing. He called the cops (I assume) because pretty soon the closest thing our town has to a SWAT team showed up. A bunch of guys in dark blue, all posted outside with guns drawn, trying to look like they knew what the hell they were doing.

If I sound bitter…..yeah, I am. But in this case its more coping than just my usual sparkling personality shining through. I think I find it easier to deal with stuff if I make fun of people who are there for the stuff.

Anyways, the guy was one step ahead, clearly. He set us up with shifts. We would all take turns taking long pacing walks in front of all the entrances, windows, and exits, thus providing no clear line of fire. Meanwhile, he got on the phone with their negotiator (who must have been thrilled that his job title suddenly had purpose) and started swapping deals. He kept his henchmen patrolling around, making sure we didn’t sneak off.

Guess who got to be part of the human shield?

I was near the back exit, walking back and forth across the open fire exits. I took in the sight of the store.

Aside from the Three Stooges there weren’t that many customers left. It had almost been closing time (something I figure could only be cruel irony on God’s behalf). Most of them were just the staff. Marcus was leaned against a stack of soda boxes. The makeshift bandage Dani had made out of pads and duct tape was already starting to soak through, but he had on a shaky smile as he chattered with the manager. Dani was trying her best to hold it together (always the natural leader my high school had been so enthusiastic about) but her stress was showing, understandably. Sadie was a sobbing mess on the floor and trying to get a handle on herself. She was pretty shook up from a gun being drawn on her. One of the customers had an arm around her and was trying to calm her down.

One of the henchman was pacing pretty close to me for a while, but I think he figured I was no Marcus and so went to go check something with his Boss. That was when I suddenly heard a swift beating of footsteps and suddenly a tap on my shoulder.

I turned fast, ready to tell that person to get the hell out, when I found myself face to face with a skeleton a couple of inches shorter than me.

There was a time that sentence would have been cause for confusion.

But this was Sans, one of the monsters that had moved in when that Chara kid freed the Underground. I saw him a lot around the store with his brother, Papyrus. They hung around almost every day for some reason. We weren’t exactly friends (I’m a firm believer in not having friends that have anything to do with this dead-end job) but he was decent company and seemed to find me less annoying than most people here.

“Sans, what the he-” he put a finger to his….teeth I guess (I’m still no expert on skeleton anatomy terms) and pointed up to the ceiling. Quicker than I could blink (or fortunately, henchman #1 could turn to see him) he disappeared into a nearby vent shaft, just big enough for his small form. Depite being so small (or perhaps because of it) he could move pretty fast when he wanted to. He crawled along the vent shaft as I continued pacing, heart pounding slightly.

“WHAT HAPPENED.” he said, his muttering voice muffled somewhat by the metal shield. “I HEARD REPORTS OF POLICE OUTSIDE THE STORE BUT DIDN’T WAIT AROUND TO FIND OUT WHY.”

“See the three guys with the guns?” I said, trying to move my mouth as little as possibly (never had those ventriloquism skills of my Uncle Pat been so enviable). An affirmative grunt came from the vent. “Yeah, they’re the problem. Where’s your brother?”

“LURKING, AS USUAL.” For a guy who usually made so much noise he was quiet as all hell crawling along those vents. “HE’LL COME WHEN I SIGNAL.”

“Look, I appreciate the help, but are you sure you want to do this?” I looked at Marcus again. “These guys have already shown they’re not shy about firing those things.”

There was a low chuckle, that I swear to hell legitimately said MWAH HA HA.  “TRUST ME, WE’VE DEALT WITH WORSE. HAVE THEY HURT YOU?”

“No, I’m fi-”

“Hey! Who’re you talking to?”

Shit. Henchman #2 strides towards me, pistol waving at his side menacingly.

“Uh….n-no one, I wasn’t….wasn’t talking.”

“Don’t bullshit me, I saw your fucking lips move!”

“I…I….” I did my best to look scared stupid. Wasn’t much of a reach. “I was praying!”

The guy looked at me disbelievingly and then rolled his eyes. Suddenly he caught sight of my name tag. “Hey, Jack.” he said, and Henchman #1 looked over. “This one’s a supervisor. Bet they know how to get into that safe in the office.” He shoved the pistol under my jaw and I swear I heard a low growling noise from the vent, or maybe it was just the AC kicking in. “Can you open it?”

“Um…I….” Hand one: I do not want to go any fucking where with this guy. Hand the other: based on the gun-waving I don’t like my odds if I lie. “Yes!”

“Dude, I don’t know, I think boss said not to leave the main area….” Jack said, looking nervously at the guy on the phone.

“I’ll be quick.” he said dismissively, pressing a gun to my head and shoving me forward. “They’re the only one we’ve found who could even open the damn thing anyways, and the cops are taking to damn long.”

I trot forward, shaking slightly. I look sidelong at Dani. She had to borrow a uniform shirt today since her manager’s shirt was in the wash, which was likely why they hadn’t picked her out. There was a deeply selfish part of me that wanted to throw this on her, but even I’m not that much of a scumbag. I just pray Sans works out whatever he’s doing with his brother soon.

We continue on into the manager’s office, and I’m shoved down none too lightly by the safe where I start shakily working on the combination. Its an old keypad lock that doesn’t always remember you pushed the buttons you pushed, so I have to keep trying the combination.

Despite his gung-ho attitude moments before Pistol isn’t looking too self-assured at the moment. He keeps looking over his shoulder like he’s expecting his boss to burst in and yell at him, and he’s telling me to hurry up. My mind’s racing, trying to figure out how I can use this to my advantage but with the muzzle point blank I don’t think there’s much I can do.

“What the fuck is taking so long?”

“I….I don’t know.” I know for sure I entered the combination right the past three times, what is……I freeze. Once a year we’re required to rotate out the combination. Today was that day, and Dani hadn’t had the chance to tell me today.

“I…..can’t do it.”

“What?!”

“They changed the combination.” Much as I hate myself for it my hands are shaking. Holy shit I could get shot over this. “I can’t get in.”

“You piece of shit!” Suddenly there’s a blow like the hand of God on the side of my head, and there’s a moment when I think I’m already dead as I land on my back. But he didn’t shoot me, just smacked me with the butt of his gun so hard stars are lining my vision. “Why the fuck did you tell me you could?”

He’s approaching me, hands poised to strike again, and all I can do is look away, head throbbing in pain.

A smack, a grunt, and a thud. None of which were connected with me and my person.

Tentatively, I open my eyes. Sans is crouching in front of me, Pistol on the ground, dead or unconscious, I don’t know. “ARE YOU ALRIGHT?”

“I….” I blink hard a few times, the pain distracting from everything else, but in this instance I know ‘fine’ means mobile, not actually fine. “Yeah….”

He puts up three gloved fingers. “HOW MANY PHALANGES?”

“Three…”

He helps me to my feet and turns my head to inspect the wound. “A BIT OF BLOOD, BUT I DON’T THINK YOU’LL HAVE A CONCUSSION FOR THIS. YOU’RE VERY LUCKY.”

“Is that what I am?” I say, chuckling ruefully and wincing immediately after.

“OF COURSE.” He says it matter of factly, releasing my head. “I’M HERE NOW.”

I pause. “….Right. So, uh,” I look at the still unmoving Pistol. “Thanks for the save and everything, but do we have a plan.”

“WE’VE HAD A PLAN FROM THE MOMENT I WALKED IN, YOU BEING CAPTURED JUST DETOURED IT SLIGHTLY.” He picked up the gun and handed it to me. “HERE. YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE TO USE IT, BUT JUST IN CASE.”

“Um….don’t you want it?” Out of the two of us he strikes me as the one more likely to know how to aim and shoot it, but he looks mildly offended.

“DO I LOOK LIKE I NEED YOUR PITI-….HUMAN WEAPONS?” he said.

“Alright, alright, tough guy.” I say, taking the gun. I know I’m probably holding it wrong, but the weight does feel secure in my hands. “Now what.”

He pulled out his phone and started texting. “TIME FOR MY BROTHER TO START PULLING HIS WEIGHT.”

There’s a joke here about how much a skeleton can weigh, all told, but I don’t know if that’s offensive or not. He sends the text and then stands patiently.

“……Is something supposed to be-”

He cut me off by holding up a single finger, smirking like he knew exactly how cool he was going to look in just a second.

A thunderous boom from the next room, followed by someone yelling “WHAT THE FUCK!”

We both run out of the office to see his brother Papyrus standing in the middle of the room, hand raised over his head, and what looks like a giant bony dragon head floating by him, mouth charged with energy. Jack is already down, smelling like singed hair, while Sans’ pet pig stands triumphantly over his body. Their boss is shakily pointing a gun at him, looking terrified. Papyrus has a quiet smirk on his face, clearly somewhat relishing the situation. The customers look freaked out,  but most of the staff just look relieved.

“GOOD WORK.” Sans says. “NOW LET’S FI-”

Panicked, the boss had whipped around and fired, I suddenly felt myself being shoved out of the way, hitting the ground, and a sudden groan of pain. When I look up, Sans is clutching his arm and gritting his teeth.

“Chief!” Papyrus yells. With a sudden fury, he turns the Blaster on the guy, hitting his with a blast of energy so bright it’s blinding. The boss collapses to the ground….and based on the smell I don’t think he’s getting back up.

But no time to think about that now. I get to my feet. “Holy shit, Sans….”

He’s groaning in pain and trying not to show it, but there’s a thin pallor of sweat on his skull somehow. Near as I can tell it just clipped his arm, but there are red numbers hovering over his head are growing smaller and smaller at an alarming rate. .6666. .5555. It holds steady at .45555 but he’s looking decidedly worse for wear and suddenly has to lean against me for support. He looks….oddly vulnerable, for a guy I’m used to seeing as just this unstoppable force of terror.

I don’t have long think about this, though. His brother comes and picks him up, looking torn between worry and exasperation. “Come on, you little idiot.” he mutters, taking off his jacket and wrapping him up in it. It smells like the cigarettes Dani’s always having to tell him not to smoke in the store. “Let’s get you patched up.”

“Uh…wait.” I say. All around me, people are starting to get up. The cops seem to know the threat’s been handled enough, so they’re charging in, and its a flurry of chaos and activity. “Can I….come with?”

“We’ll be okay.” he say, but then he catches a look at my face. I don’t know what he sees there, but I think he can tell I’m trying to pay them back best I can. “Alright, grab my arm.”

I do, a little nervously. I’ve seen him teleport before, but this’ll be my first time experiencing it. There’s a sudden tingling sensation….and I find myself in front of a small house. Papyrus brushes past me and knocks on the door.

A scaly blue woman with fish eyes and bright red hair opens it. “What are you doing here, it’s the middle of….” she sees the bundle in his arms. “Oh.” she sounds oddly neutral. Like its normal for him to show up with injured people.

“Its just a graze, but….”

“The 1 HP?”

Papyrus remains silent.

The woman sighs and opens the door wider, letting him walk past. He goes inside, and I follow. She suddenly pushes the door against me a little, looking suspicious.

“That’s Salt, they’re a friend.” Papyrus says, settling his brother on the couch and pulling his jacket off of him. “Let them in.”

The woman examines me up and down and then walks away, ignoring me to check on Sans but not stopping me. I walk in, closing the door behind me and standing awkwardly at the entrance to the living room. The fish woman is examining Sans with sure but curious fingers.

“You sure you won’t let me experiment a bit?” she says. “Might be able to find a way to help with that little….inadequacy of his….”

Papyrus growls in the back of his throat.

“Fine, fine.” She says it like this is a game she plays with him quite a bit. “He should be fine. A few ITEMs and some bed rest.”

“Babe, who was at the door?” The gravelly voice behind me makes me jump a bit and I turn to see a yellow dinosaur chick (I think it’s a chick). She’s a mass of scars and muscles, and a couple of inches taller than Sans. She glares at me with confusion.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Um…I’m….”

“I’m in here, Alphys.” The fish woman says, starting to tie a bandage around Sans’ humerus (since they’d started hanging around so much I’d been brushing up on my skeleton anatomy, all though who knows if they even called the bones the same thing.) He was starting to regain consciousness. “Ignore the human, they’re with Sans and Papyrus.”

Alphys nods like this settles it and pushes past me, standing solidly in the middle of the room. “What happened to you, runt? Somebody finally get tired of your mouth opening?”

Sans growled tiredly, eyelids flickering, and she chuckled. Despite the causticity I couldn’t really sense any malice for him in her voice.

“Just tell me you at least gave them worse.”

“DAMN RIGHT.” he said. He neglected to mention Papyrus was the one “giving them worse” but the taller skeleton didn’t seem to feel the need to protest. Suddenly his eyelights latched on me and he flushed somewhat (don’t ask me how the fuck that’s possible). “I…..I DIDN’T REALIZE YOU WERE HERE.”

Slowly, I came a bit closer. “Papyrus let me hitch a ride. How are you doing?”

“FINE.” he said quickly. Papyrus snorted, earning him a resentful look from his brother.

I kneeled by the couch, just to the fish lady’s right. “You….really saved my skin back there. Everyone’s skin, really. We could’ve been trapped there forever if you and Papyrus hadn’t come so….thanks.”

He makes steady eye contact with me for a minute, then turns away. “IT WAS NO TROUBLE. IT WOULD BE REGRETTABLE IF WE HAD TO SWITCH STORES. TEACUP WON’T EAT ANY OTHER BRAND OF FOOD.”

Papyrus’ eye sockets widened suddenly. “Shit!” and he suddenly disappeared.

Alphys raised a brow. “What was that about?”

It hit me. “Damn it, we left Teacup!”

Sans’ eyes went wide and he looked furious. “WHAT?!”

Papyrus appeared a minute later with the pig, who calmly trotted over to her Master to snuffle worriedly at his side.

“YOU IDIOT! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING, LEAVING HER, ANYTHING COULD’VE HAPPENED!”

Papyrus took the chastising, looking apologetic. I felt bad for him, so I stepped in, scratching behind Teacup’s ears. “He was just worried about you. Besides, can you imagine anything hurting this little porker? She’d trample them before they got the chance.”

He looked both surprised and mollified. “I….YES, TEACUP IS ADMIRABLY TRAINED, BUT STILL, THAT’S NO EXCUSE TO-”

“Actually” I said, trying to keep the conversation off yelling at his brother. “Just had a thought, I should really do something to thank you.”

It startled him. “THERE….THERE’S NO NEED TO-”

“Nah, it’d be my pleasure. Come on, what can I do for ya?”

Sans looked ready to protest when Papyrus cut in. “How about you just come over some night to cook dinner for us and we’ll call it even.”

Sans shot him a look. “It’d be my pleasure.” I said, standing up. “Does tomorrow night sound alright to you? I’m pretty sure we’ll be closed. Even if we aren’t I think I’m taking a day off regardless.”

His mouth flapped open and closed for a second before he turned aside, flushing slightly. “…..TOMORROW NIGHT IS FINE.” he turned back. “I WARN YOU, MY COOKING STANDARDS ARE NOT EASILY MET.”

“Well, I’ll be happy to accept any tips.” I said, smiling slightly. I checked my phone’s clock. “Oh, shit, I should be getting home, my roommate’s gonna be worried sick.”

“I can take you home.” Papyrus said.

“Alright, cool.” I gave Teacup one last pat (she snorted appreciatively but kept her attention on Sans) and smiled one last time at Sans. “Seriously, thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He didn’t say anything, just nodded.

Papyrus put a hand on my shoulder, the tingling sensation returned, and suddenly we were outside my apartment.

“Our schedule’s pretty open tomorrow.” he told me. He gave me his number. “Just text us when you’re ready.”

“Alright. Thanks for the lift, and…..well, everything over the past couple of hours.”

He gave a quiet smile. “Like Chief would let anything get between Teacup and her treats.”

I laughed. “Well, happy to be of service. Good night.”

“Good night.” he said, and with that disappeared.

I honestly kind of liked this story. May do the follow-up story at some point about the dinner date, actually. Let me know if you guys would be interested in that.

#sf!sans #salt #saltberry #raspberry vs.retail #mini-fic #hostage situation