#so i signed up to be a dasher
Note
For your blurbs
How about Basil Stitt crushing on a Dasher/ delivery girl
As sweet or spicy as you are feeling. 🙈
Yes Chef! 🫡
Theme: Basil breaks down and orders pizza. A.N: Just a lil awkwardness and a few too many interruptions lol
Empty, completely fucking empty… Basil thought as he stared at the barren interior of his fridge. He went to grab a lone beer when his stomach growled, begging for anything more substantial.
Anxiety rippled through him at the thought of leaving his darkened apartment. I’m hideous, can’t let anyone see me like this… It’d only been a few days since “the incident” and he hadn’t left his place since. He paced for a moment before a pizza menu haphazardly tossed on the ground caught his eye. He shrugged and dialed the number as he slouched back on the couch.
“Gianni’s Pizza what’ll ya have?” Your curt voice had him shoot forward. His heart hammered in his chest at your voice. All at once memories of conversations came to his mind. It’d started as chit-chat, and through months of ordering you two had developed a rapport, even a bit of flirting.
Despite the clipped tone it still hit something inside him. “Hello?” You sighed on the other end, “Look if this is those stupid kids you’re not funny. Im hanging up-“
“No wait!” Basil blurted. “I - I need to place an order, for delivery.”
“Basil?” Your tone softened, “I’m so sorry, these fucking kids -“ you sighed. “You want your usual?”
He nodded. “Hello?” Your voice rang softly in the receiver.
“Sorry! Sorry yeah I guess Pepp-”
“Pepperoni half olives and cheesy bread.” Your voice seemed to lift a bit at the familiarity of the order.
He stopped for a moment, somewhat comforted that you actually remembered. “Ah actually, no olives. Cinnamon bread instead of cheesy.” His hand rubbed across the back of his neck as he paced across the hardwood.
“No? Catherine out of town again?” You asked so nonchalantly it nearly hurt.
“Catherine is, out. Yeah - no she chea-“ Basil stopped himself, you didn’t wanna hear about his personal life. Your gasp nearly made his heart stop.
“You’re joking! What a b-“ you stopped yourself. “It’ll be by in 10 alright? Just hang tight.” You hung up.
Basil crinkled his brow as he stared at the phone, you’d sounded like… like you cared.
The minutes passed faster than he thought possible as he fumbled for cash around his apartment. He figured he could just slip it under the door when you came. No one should see him like this.
A light but antsy knock sounded on the door. “Pizza. It’s me!” Your light voice muffled slightly by the thin door set his nerves alight.
“T-thanks.” Basil called from his side, pressing close and peeking through the peep-hole at your beautiful face.
Confusion etched into your features as you waited for the door to open. “Basil?”
“Oh right, here.” Shuffling sounded as two 20s awkwardly slipped under the front door. “Keep the change.”
“Basil I, I wanted to talk. Are you alright?” He could see you worry your bottom lip as you glanced along the empty hall.
“Fine! Ah, sick I don’t want you to catch it.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets as he watched you. Please please just leave. You couldn’t see him like this…
“Oh ah, feel better.” Sadness knitted your brow a moment before you set the pizza and bag of cinnamon bread on the ground. You went to say something but caught yourself. Instead putting your hand up to the door and signing softly.
Basil watched with his heart hammering away in his chest. Watched until he heard the elevator ding and was sure you’d left. When he opened the door the first this to surprise him is the money still sitting just on the other side, the second was some writing left on the box.
Your cell number along with a note,
Her loss, call me ;)
———————————
Apologies for the clunkiness I’m still getting back in the swing of writing between a new job and BG3 stealing me away (gettin all the kisses from my virtual husband Halsin 😘)
Taglist: @melodygatesauthor @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @ominoose @romana-after-dark @lunar-ghoulie @flowercrownonapegion @howellatme @mooksmouse @ahookedheroespureheart @beezusvreeland @auntiegigi @moonkxit @faretheeoscar
#basil stitt fanfiction#basil stitt x you#basil stitt x reader#basil stitt#drabble requests#so sorry it’s been so long#and I’m V rusty 😭
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as it was. ( bradley bradshaw "rooster" x reader )
( gif not mine )
bradley “rooster” bradshaw x fem!reader
synopsis: in which things just aren’t the same, and it takes a life threatening accident to make rooster come to his senses and true feelings
word count: 1.7k
warnings: angst/fluff
note: inspired by harry bc i feel like this would slay; also i wanna make this two parts so slay? also; reader’s call sign is dasher. bc like on dasher on dancer; like christmas esque but also like the song do the dash can u make it go fast lol idk! Enjoy; also my hangman reader is gonna be mentioned, bc i like connecting my worlds lol. I think this is gonna be in three parts, so strap in!
part two part three
also i didnt check this for errors so bare w me pls
——
gravity’s holdin me back.
the thrill never gets old. the butterflies that clump around in your stomach, aching to be set free as you shoot off into the sky. but then again, the butterflies only started showing up around the same time that he started flying with you, which was coincidentally when you started flying. it seems taking a few years off to go to law school before heading to top gun to train did you some good, as you had the honor of meeting bradley bradshaw, callsign: rooster.
in this world
it’s just us.
the sky was your oyster, or f-18. becoming close with rooster was truly an experience. while upon arrival at top gun you hadn’t planned on making many friends and wanted to focus mainly on your training, you had the timely offer from rooster one day to go down to the beach with him and some other trainees to play some volleyball. she could vividly recall him taking off his sunglasses and giving her a pouty look, practically begging her to come and play some volleyball. it didn’t help that he looked delicious in his white muscle tank and floral, unbuttoned t shirt. his tussled hair and sunkissed skin only made you want to refuse, as you told yourself you shouldn’t be searching for a love interest for your lonely sad life. so, you compromised. “cmon dasher, what else are you gonna do on your off day? sit around and map out flight plans?” he said, a sly grin on his face as he leaned into your door frame. you narrowed your eyes, and his smile said, before you said, “prepared to get your ass handed to you rooster,” before closing the door on him and changing into your beach fit before rejoining him.
in this world
it’s just us.
the two of you sat on the beach, having just graduated from top gun. the crashing waves against the sand did nothing to help relax your heartbeat as rooster draped an arm around your shoulders, bringing you into his side. you relaxed into his touch, used to his casual affection he sometimes graced you wish. it was mostly friendly, or so you thought, he’d casually bump your shoulder whenever he walked past you, or whenever your shared friends departed from the hard deck after a few drinks, he would drape his arm around your shoulders as he walked you to your car. and on rare occasion, you don’t remember if you imagined it or not, due to the fact you were absolutely hammered and spewing out bullshit here and there, you could’ve sworn he’d kissed your cheek when he dropped you off at your quarters. but then again, you were also plastered, so you could’ve just imagined it. not the first time you’d imagined him kissing you anyways. but something about when he draped his arm around your shoulders and ever so lightly pulled you into him felt different. something was in between you, begging to be let out. “where you heading next,” rooster spoke softly, catching you by surprise. “higher-ups said the cia needed support out in the middle east, said they needed a top fighter for a few years, i told ‘em i’d consider it,” you spoke. the job offer had just been dropped on you at the end of your graduation, as you had graduated almost at the top of your class, and your commander had insisted that you take it. what surprised you the most was that instead of feeling jittery at the thought of already receiving a mission, you felt oddly sad about leaving behind the little scene you had created for yourself, and leaving behind him.
“you should take it, you’re one of the best of our class, you’d be stupid to refuse,” bradley spoke. you didn’t need to look at him to see that his brow had creased ever so slightly, something weighing in on him. “and you rooster? where in the world are you off to?” you asked, and rooster chuckled lightly. “wherever the navy’ll take me dash,” he spoke, the nickname he’d given you rolling off his tongue smoothly. he was the only one who called you that, and it seemed to be an unspoken rule that only he was able to call you that.
“when do you leave?”
“7am sharp if i want the job”
“you better take it”
“what if i don’t want to?”
“what could possibly be holding you back”
you. you are holding me back. a part of you wished he would ask you to stay, to stay with him, to fly with him, and to never leave. you begged him in your mind, screaming at him to ask you to stay. instead, without waiting for you to answer he squeezed your shoulder, before planting a kiss to your temple. “g’bye dash,” he whispered, before getting up, and walking away from you. “rooster, wait!” you exclaimed, as you scrambled to get up, the sand slightly being an impediment, as you went to catch up with him. he acted as though he didn’t hear you, and dared not to turn around, not wanting to show you the tears that were slowly filling his eyes. he didn’t deserve to need you when he knew that more important causes needed you more than he did. he couldn’t give you what you couldn’t already give yourself. you were always the better flyer anyways, and he’d only hold you back from doing incredible things. “bradley,” you cried out, exasperated as he continued to walk away from you. only when he heard his name did he stop in his tracks. as you finally caught him. “is that it? just goodbye, that’s it?” you said loudly, sadness looming in your voice as you asked him, tears threatening to cloud your vision as you tried to acknowledge the wedge between you. “it’s been fun flying with you dasher, but that’s all it’s been. just flying,” bradley spoke, breaking his heart as he heard you sniffle, as your heart was stabbed with his words. his lies followed him as he took his next steps, and they continued to follow him as he drove back to his quarters, and they followed him through the night, and through the next few pages of his life.
you know it’s not the same,
as it was.
“look what the cat dragged in, aren’t you supposed to be off helping santa at the north pole, dasher,” hangman shot out, as you walked up to the pool table in the Hard Deck, and u rolled your eyes, ignoring his comment as you settled yourself beside phoenix, who pulled you into a side hug, which caused you to smile. “what’ve you been up to dasher,” she spoke, as the attention of the group turned to you. “got back from the middle-east, helped out the cia for a few years, took down a few relics,” you stated, taking a sip of the beer in your hand. “still single dasher? or did you finally find another reindeer to cozy up with,” hangman spoke again, and you sighed, “no, and don’t even dare asking, you’ll only ever receive a no from me, go bother winter or something,” you spoke, and hangman was quick to shut up at the mention of winter. winter was an old friend of yours, who you’d attended naval academy with. she was one hell of a stealth pilot, and was always spewing out, “winter is coming,” whenever she took to the air. but her stories’ for another time. the group laughed, as everyone shook their heads at your antics with hangman. “oh, dasher, this is bob, my new rio, bob,” phoenix spoke, introducing you to the blonde aviator who sat on a stool close to the group. “hi,” bob said timidly, offering you a shy smile, as you returned the smile. “what’s your callsign?” you asked, and bob shrugged his shoulders before replying, “bob.” you chuckled, before reaching your hand out, as he shook it firmly. “nice to meet you, bob,” you said kindly, before falling in line next to him, getting to know phoenix’s new iro as the rest of the group continued their heated game of pool.
go home, get ahead, high speed internet
i don’t wanna talk about the way that it was.
the slow but inviting evening was soon interrupted, as you heard phoenix call out to a new aviator who had entered the bar. as soon as you heard the callsign leave her lips, you groaned. “hangman, you got room for another,” you spoke, as he brought you a beer from some sucker who was dumb enough to put his phone on the bar. “always got room for you, dash,” he said slyly, to which you rolled your eyes to, as you sauntered on over to the pool table, as hangman handed you a pool stick. he walked over to the jukebox, as you broke, and he put on some song as you waited for his return. just as soon as he got over, the aviator who had finally stopped chatting with phoenix was soon spotted by hangman, but you simply pretended as though he wasn’t there. but you could feel his eyes on you already, waiting for you to acknowledge that he was there. instead, you chose not to, as you gave fanboy hangman’s stick, motioning for him to continue the game, as hangman and rooster shot insults at each other. you only looked up as rooster finally walked away from hangman, to which you shook your head, muttering to yourself as you shot a ball into a pocket.
it wasn’t long until half your group abandoned you, as you were left, stuck with hangman, who looked visibly annoyed as the jukebox music stopped and the piano roared to life. “typical bradshaw,” was all you said, as hangman shot you a pointed look. “like he’ll even have a chance of being team leader, you’re the only real competition i have around here dasher,” hangman spoke arrogantly, and you shrugged your shoulder. “like phoenix said, i’m more interested to find out who they’re gonna get to train us,” you spoke, and hangman spoke in agreement as the two of you continued your pool game as a familiar song was soon being screamed by the people around you. “goodness gracious, big balls of fire,” you muttered under your breath as you sunk your ball for the win, much to hangman’s dismay. “okay dash, what are you gonna force me to do,” hangman said defeatedly, to which you smirked.
if you wanna be added to my taglist click here
---
this kinda just became whatever i wanted it to lol, part 2 is out now btw link is at the top!
#rooster x reader#rooster#bradley bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x reader#hangman x reader#bob x reader#jake seresin x readee#topgun#topgunmaverick#topgun x reader#top gun x reader#maverick x reader
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VA Native Fish Hunting - 20
So apparently I started recording my fish hunts two years ago this month and it seems appropriate that I hit a neat milestone in entry number 20 (not counting interludes)! And as kind of a neat coincidence, I had an eventful hunt with a few new species to share! Hope you enjoy :)
The tide was high today and the beach was gone (frown!) so I was unclear what luck I'd actually have hunting fishes. I've been to this location before and had a good idea of what I was likely to find here. What I had not found before were Bluespotted Sunfish (Enneacanthus gloriosus) here! This little guy was dead and floating right at my start point - both a good sign and a bummer at the same time. What I thought was neat was this sunfish, unlike literally every other one I had found in VA, was in a basic pH river rather than an acidic bog. Makes me wonder what little offshoots I can explore with a kayak.
Another fish I haven't found here were Banded Killifish (Fundulus diaphanus) like this beautiful fellow above! Among my favorite NANFs for home keeping (or in general), this guy was iridescent gold and blue, bright breeding colors for this species. I let him go - hopefully the ladies will appreciate his "near death encounter" with a massive beast (i.e. me) and living to tell the tale!
Last time I came here, the most plentiful fish I caught, by far (like, 50-to-1) were Eastern Mosquitofish. This time? The most common catch were these Spottail Shiners (Notropis hudsonius), one of our small native minnows. Though they max out at 6 inches, 3 inches is much more common, and most of what I caught were about 1 to 1.5 inches. Probably only hatched earlier this year.
One net swipe here! A couple of fish, a couple of snails. Who can argue?
I caught maybe 3 or 4 of these Tesselated Darters (Etheostoma olmstedi) at this location - I love love LOVE the two I have in my tank at home and wouldn't mind more at some point, but I wasn't looking to keep any fish today, so they got to swim back home. But let me reiterate that anybody who keeps a North American biotope tank would do well to look into the Etheostoma genus of Darters!
It took me a few swipes to finally catch a female Banded Killifish, which as you can see do look significantly different from the breeding colored males. Still great aquarium fish for sure.
Though I only saw a handful of live ones, I saw a ton of shells for these Chinese Mystery Snails (Cipangopaludina chinensis), an invasive critter that has overpopulated in the area. How exactly one shell got wedged (very hard by the way!) into another shell is beyond me.
As I was swiping my net, I felt a crawling up my arm that gave me the willies (tick season does that to me) but very pleasantly it was NOT a tick and was instead this Blue Dasher (Pachydiplax longipennis). He was trying to dry his wings out it seemed - probably recently emerged - and was very happy to pose for some pictures. I set him on a tree stem and he went upon his way.
Another first for me was this Toebiter (Belostoma flumineum), carrying eggs on its back! Very cool animal, but given their terrible bite (they ARE called Toebiters after all), I wasn't willing to handle it for a photo op. So. Into the plastic container it went for a few quick snaps!
What I actually came here for today was some Hydrilla (Hydrilla verticillata), another invasive species local to the area. But I'm looking to add some variety to my 55 gallon plant selection, and I figured it was worth a try. If it doesn't work, well, then at least I removed some invasives from the area.
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Welcome to PinkPress
A blog for all the girlies into fashion, pink aesthetics, self care, womanhood, and academic validation.
What you will see on this blog
🩷 Fashion Advice, Trends, Hot Topics
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🕊️ and tons more PINK
🎀 MEET THE OWNER 🎀
Name: Aaliyah aka Shank
Sign: Virgo (8/23)
Pronouns: She/Her
From: New Jersey
Major: Graphic Design in Fashion
Hobbies: Reading. Blogging. Pinning on Pinterest. Napping. Shopping. Making YouTube Videos. Doing all things Girly. Watching Movies. Professional Door Dasher Orderer. Making Collages of Fashion Trends. Virtual Wardrobe Styling. Modeling.
Favorite Foods: Sushi. Soul Food. Spanish Food. Fast Food.
Favorite Movies: Clueless. Legally Blonde 1+2. The Cheetah Girls 1,2,3. The Princess & The Frog. Maleficent 1+2. Kill Bill 1+2. The First Wives Club. Napoleon Dynamite. Transformers (all of them). Bring it On 1+2. Step Up 1+2 (and ones with Moose). Bratz: The Movie. Hot Chick. But I’m A Cheerleader. & so much more ..
Favorite Artist: Doja Cat.
Favorite Colors: Pink. Periwinkle. Peridot Green.
Pastels.
Favorite Number: 5. 21. 23
Favorite Quote: "What, Like it's Hard?"
- Elle Woods, Legally Blonde
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What is Pink Press? 🧚🏽♀️
PinkPress is a fun, pretty girl blog that consists of all things girly. You can use this Blog as inspiration for college inspo, fashion inspo, girly inspo or even creating your own girl blog!
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PinkPress also encourages College/School Validation! If you are enrolled or are soon to be enrolled in a university of any sort, use this blog as a huge part of your daily routine (after your self care routine of course!) to get inspired and use as a daily newspaper.
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#girlblogging#blogger#it girl#newspaper#press release#study motivation#pink aesthetic#pinkcore#princesscore#womanhood#self care#empowerment#new blog#girly post#this is a girlblog#princess aesthetic#bloggingcommunity#girl blogging
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i went home with the server from raglans'
I made a friend getting off the Uber at ocean beach because i saw her with her with a small dog watching the sunset, as I was about to with dasher. we sat and talked for about half an hour, bonded over the fact that we both had small dogs. We also bonded over the fact that we’re both servers at bars and she told me she works at Raglans which was a New Zealand bar about a block from where we were. I took that as a sign to stop by since I needed a drink after having my dog throw up all over me like the demon child I thought I would be taking care of at this moment in life. So I did. I sat down and ordered a mule (choice of double shot of something w ginger beer, bitters and lime juice). Then I ordered onion rings. That’s when he brought them out and I exclaimed “that’s a small? That’s huge.” He replied, “yeah they’re really good though. I’m James, btw.” I sat there for a few mins nibbling on the onion rings and feeding my dog the breading when he came out with a second round. “This ones on the house.” He said with a smile and sparking blue eyes. Next thing you know, he brings out a mini dish of turkey crumbles for dasher and a double whiskey (makers?) for me. “Still doing ok?” My original waitress asks me. “Ya. Can I get the check?” I signed my name after being charged only one drink and a small order of onion rings and ordered my Uber. That’s when James came out and sat on my table and asked me what I was up to for the rest of the night. It’s Wednesday. I have work the next day. So I told him nothing, cancelled my Uber and he bought me another mule as I waited for him to get off. we went back to his place a few blocks away from raglans that smelled like pizza and dive bar where I sat and watched my dog sniff around as he played call of duty with his roommate and spoke to me without actually looking at me. “I’m going home” I said, around 10pm. “Wait, do you like. Wanna hangout or something this weekend? There’s a Halloween party in PB..” he said after he finally dropped his remote and his roommate exclaimed “wtf man?!” I grabbed my dog and walked the fuck out of there only to find my phone at 1% and die on me. I walked back in the frat house shack of call of duty free drinks at 10 something to bum some juice for my phone. Oh but none of these imbeciles has an iPhone. So James, the call of duty playing bartender fucktard orders me an Uber as I Venmo him back and now I owe him my life apparently.
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The Time Of My Life
The title of this post might be a little bit of a misnomer because there have been many wonderful moments in my life that I am thankful for. But, I would say the title represents what people might be thinking of me when they see me in my car these days.
You see, last year I was getting bored. After staying home for so long during and after the pandemic, I felt I was missing something personally. So I got a job.
A job in the digital economy where I can work when I want to, how much I want, and I really don't have to answer to anyone.
I became a Dasher.
It turns out it has all the benefits I was searching for. I'm out of the house, I make a little extra spending money, I meet new people I can be social with, and I guess I get the feeling of accomplishment.
But the real benefit I didn't know I was missing was, listening to music!
I'm by myself three to five hours a day, five days a week, and I can crank the music as loud as I want, sing off key as loud as I want, while using the steering wheel to drive and as a drum set.
You should see the looks I get in the morning when people are going off to their full time jobs.
This is how I see myself.
But I imagine this is how people see me.
How Would You Feel If You Saw Some 70 Year Old Guy Singing And Dancing In The Front Seat Of His Car
Having The Time Of His Life
Jim Hauenstein
And
"My car is my Karaoke booth." - James Hauenstein -
That is my story and I am sticking to it!
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I would love to hear from you
Thanks for reading
Be kind to everyone
I'll be seeing you
#humor#storytelling#humorous#two buck howie#blog#writing#blogging#karaoke#sing#singing#car karaoke#sing along
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So desperate for a job i signed up to be a dasher
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DoorDash SPEC Landing Page
Project Title: Landing Page for DoorDash Small Restaurants (real company, fake landing page)
Creative Review Date: 8/14/23
Owner: FRW
Copywriter: Jasmine J.
Problem: B2B copywriting; DoorDash is looking to partner with small, independently owned restaurants not yet added to the platform. The target audience already uses takeout and has a strong customer following, but they are skeptical about using new technology or services.
Solution: I created an attractive, user-friendly landing page that speaks to the potential DoorDash partner’s wants while promoting DoorDash’s appeal to help these businesses grow. Casual, friendly, and informative tones are used to give business owners confidence in the DoorDash brand and the concept of becoming a partner.
Designer notes:
Hero Area: 2 different designs with the same sectional information
The CTA in caps should be a button (you do not have to create those referred pages)
HERO AREA
IMAGE 1
Photo of storefront shop with an older man (grandfather or dad) outside of the store locking the doors and passing the keys to his son (younger man); both smiling
HEADLINE #1
Join the DoorDash Partner Revolution: Start Your Journey to Success Today
SUBHEAD #1
Unlock up to 60% Profit Increase with DoorDash: Your Pathway to Enhanced Earnings and Success!
CTA to account setup page: BECOME A DOORDASH PARTNER TODAY
IMAGE 2
The cashier at the restaurant, smiling, handing back to DoorDash driver, zoom in on Dasher’s phone, text alert blown up with the text “You’ve got another order on the way.”
HEADLINE #2
Grow. Reach. Prosper. Repeat.
SUBHEAD #2
Are you interested in growing profits and reaching new customers? It pays to be a neighborhood DoorDash Partner.
CTA to account setup page: PARTNER WITH US TODAY
FORM
Partner with DoorDash to boost revenue and increase customer engagement – both within the app and via your website.
BUSINESS NAME
BUSINESS ADDRESS
BUSINESS EMAIL
BUSINESS PHONE NUMBER
DROP DOWN: SELECT YOUR BUSINESS TYPE
CTA to account setup page: GET STARTED
SECTION 1
Driving Success: Supercharge Profits and Attract More Customers with DoorDash Partnership
BODY
You’ve made the brave step of stepping out on your own by creating a business. You have your culture, community, and family behind you. Share your food with the world; it deserves it. Here’s how we will help you do just that:
Guaranteed up to 60% profit increase
A surefire way to attract and engage new customers
Keep current customers coming back for more
Let us be your team member if you’re ready to achieve your wildest dreams.
CTA to account setup page: GET STARTED TODAY
SECTION 2
Effortless Growth for Your Business: Amplify Success with DoorDash Partner Accounts
BODY
You pride yourself on delivering a quality dining experience. We at DoorDash share that same passion. As a partner, you will gain complete access to:
Quick and simple account setup and operations
24/7 expert support (just in case you get a little stick)
Improving ways to train your staff, so you can continue to build and grow your thriving business
Still, need more info? No problem. We’ve got you covered!
CTA to sign up support page: TALK WITH AN EXPERT
Written by Jasmine Joseph
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damn how could anybody let you get away
mustve made a deal with the devil to end up here because its like 58 degrees but I’m finally laying by the pool this time with my dog tanning. Well, we’re not full on tanning, but we are laying in the sun. A year ago, it was 80 something degrees and I had just fucking gotten the text from megan saying they wanted to move forward to offer at discord and I damn near collapsed because I was so happy. The first time in my life I got what I wanted and aimed for. It felt actually amazing. But I think around this time last year, all I really did was keep quiet because I hadn’t even signed the offer letter yet. It felt amazing. Followed by that I remembered I took my laptop to work by Lafayette pool a few days later and met this navy guy. I mean, I damn near collapsed on my chair and had to make an emergency “wtf” candiate call, but then he hit me with the “its a nice day” line and we just started chatting after that.t t was so effortless and easy and so...organic. It didn’t last long. I think we went on a date to polite provisions after that and he got way too drunk for me to even want to invite him over. We had like one or two facetime dates after that and it fizzles out because I was like “meh”.
See, I’m lowkey waiting for that to happen again. I kinda wanna go out and meet people, have them come up and approach me and stuff and vice versa. Like I can’t be the only work from home single eligible person in San Diego. Today would’ve been the perfect day to do so but heres the thing, I have a few camera meetings and its kinda the first day its not pouring rain so instead of going to the beachside cafe that I originally wanted to go to, I’m just gonna sit pretty by the pool with Dasher. That’s the lovely thing about having these amenities honestly.
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y'all. y'all.
yesterday I tried to have a prescription delivered. notably: I am not at home, because I am at my dad's. so when I get a phone call a few hours later saying "hey, this has to be signed for but no one's answering the door, what should I do," I ask if he can leave it anyway. he says no. he asks, "should I take it back to the pharmacy?" I sigh. "yes, take it back to the pharmacy. I'll have to pick it up there." "okay, I'll do that," he says.
the delivery guy has told me 1) that he cannot leave my prescription at the door and 2) that he will return it to the pharmacy.
this morning, I call the pharmacy to see if they have it or if they sent it out again. the last they saw of it was when they sent it out yesterday. and oh by the way they use fucking doordash to deliver prescriptions, which feels vaguely illegal???? but idk, I'm not a lawyer. anyway, if i want to know what happened to it I'm going to have to call them. oh, but if the guy called me, them I can just call him!
I try to call him. the number doesn't work. I find a doordash number. the first person transfers me. the second person takes information for a report and then transfers me. the third person asks, "did you get the picture the dasher sent you?"
I did not receive a picture. I have never received a picture when having prescriptions delivered.
she describes the picture. it is of my front door. more importantly, it is of my prescription being left at my front door.
motherfucker why did you tell me you couldn't do that and were going to do something else if you just went and did the first thing anyway???????????? I've been on the phone for over half an hour and I didn't have to do any of that if you just hadn't fucking lied to me!!!!!!!!!!!!
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would you like... want people to write fics for the ambition ships like my favorites are zarlie and dasher but I wasn’t sure if you and the rest of the creators would appreciate me writing a fanfic based on your reinterpretation of the characters ???
ahhh this is so cute omg!! i mean look fam i’m a huge believer that creative content and fandom are core parts of a fun fulfilling creative landscape, and so if you feel inspired and wanna borrow our characters (that were once sketched off of someone else’s characters – again, the cycle of creation) then i say by all means! it’s really touching that you love them enough to want to do that :’) i think the only thing would just for all of us to be aware of like fandom creator relationships and courtesies and realize that perhaps what you vibe with in storytelling isn’t what i vibe with and thusly maybe some or none or all of us would click with what you choose to write, but that’s okay! like i said if you wanna write with them, there’s nothing stopping you. don’t let me get in the way!
and if you DO wanna share it if you do write smth (bc i am insatiably intrigued) be sure to tag with #ambitionsource! genuinely i kind of love the small fandom we’re creating here and so if people want it to become even more of a true fandom and write their own fics really i think that’s just swell. write away lil chickadee. write away (just please credit us for the insp!)
– Maggie
#if we all like writing fics after a certain point mayhaps i can set up an ao3 collection or smth like that#BUT ALSO YEAH DASHER RISE!!!!!!#everyone say thank u ambition for the ao3 dasher tag even existing#thank u ambition!#honestly i GEEKD when i saw this ask... literally love that so much#answered#Anonymous#ask and you shall receive#oh i just realized this is on my blog not the source blog so i didnt need to sign it#fDJSKLFGJSKLGJSDLG oh well!#ambition
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Title: Compassion for an Assassin
Chapters: 7/15
Words: 24,133
Ship: Female Cadash/Cole
Rating: E
Additional Tags:
Summary
When Bea Cadash meets Cole in the aftermath of Haven, she doesn’t trust him. It’s not his fault, really, she doesn’t trust anyone. All the world has ever done, after all, is let her and her sister down. But the world is changing, and Bea has a chance to become more than just the Dasher’s assassin. She’s got the chance to take charge of her own destiny and become whatever she chooses. So is Bea Cadash going to be a Carta Queen soaked in blood… or something a bit more compassionate? Smut chapters marked with *
Chapter Summary: Bea teaches Cole the Nug Hop before they learn terrible news.
Read on AO3
Bea likes the Herald’s Rest.
It’s too clean, of course. And the company is devastatingly respectable. But, all in all, it’s probably her favorite part of Skyhold. It’s certainly the only place where life seems to continue unimpeded in spite of the war, the red lyrium, and the evil world-destroying dead Magister.
And the view is very nice. Especially as Lace Harding stretches up on her tiptoes to hang her newest flyer, wiggling in place and drawing eyes to one of the Inquisition’s finest assets.
She’s not the only one staring. Beside her, Krem freezes completely, mug halfway to his mouth, eyes glued to the dwarf in front of them. Bea snorts, breaking the moment. Krem tries to cover the red blush in his face, but fails miserably.
“You ever think about saying something instead of staring?” Bea asks with wicked delight. “She may be into humans.”
“Shut up, Cadash.”
Like Bea has ever shut up in her life. She certainly doesn’t intend to start now.
“Harding!” she shouts, kicking her boots up onto the table and smirking as the scout turns to look at them. “Krem wants to know what you’re up to now.”
Krem almost chokes on his ale. While he’s sputtering, Harding crosses the tavern with a big grin stretching freckled cheeks.
“Dancing lessons!” She claps her hands together in abject glee. “You gonna sign up?”
Bea had expected lots of things. Dancing lessons weren't one of them.
“You want to teach the Inquisition how to dance?” she repeats dubiously. Harding nods.
“After Halamshiral everyone wanted to learn. I thought I’d help them out.”
“You do realize they’re all taller than you, Harding. How are you gonna teach Bull to waltz?”
“That I’d pay to see.” Krem regains his equilibrium with a shy smile. “If anyone could teach Chief how to stumble through a Ferelden Remigold…”
#manka writes#colemace#cole dragon age#female cadash#female inquisitor#dragon age#dragon age inquisition#female cadash/cole#compassion for an assassin
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Anxiety is so weird sometimes...
Me: Hmm, I’m hungry, and I’m craving some curry, but work is busy and I don’t have time to go out, also I don’t want to. I know, maybe I’ll finally use doordash and support my local indian restaurant since I saw on fb they signed up for it.
Anxiety: “But what if... what if it’s bad?
Me: what if what’s bad?
Anxiety: the doordash. or the restaurant. what if they. think you’re lame for ordering food.
Me:??? why would... I mean there’s flaws in the system sure but, me using the service supports the restaurant and the dasher with money I can spare because my job is pretty secure so far, so like, actually that’s benefiting my community not being lame? And also I tip so?
Anxiety: ok but what if they think you’re lame when they look at your house?
Me:??? ok? Like sure my porch could use some tidying up but. That’s it? It’s a house? And even if they think I’m weird I probably will never see them beyond a silhouette as they drop off my order. Why should it matter even if they do think I’m weird?
Anxiety: well maybe so but you know you really shouldn’t order out, you should cook your own food. It’s wasteful.
Me: I do? 90% of the time I cook my own food. But I can’t cook with a tandoori oven I don’t have, and also sometimes it’s nice not to be the only person who is able to supply food for me. There is no logical reason why this is bad. Please just chill out. I’m ordering it.
Anxiety: *continuing discontented grumbles*
...
Anxiety: We’re totally going to hide from view of the front door and peek out just enough to see through the window like the hermit we are when the dasher comes tho right?
Me: Oh absolutely 100%
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The plot picks up in chapter 3!
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Even tinsel football didn't help improve Bernard's mood. Still, he forced a smile and cheered his elves on. Santa had introduced the variant of the American sport. And indeed it helped the elves to let out the frustration of long work and to free themselves from pent-up energies. He never played along himself. Not only because as a head elf he had to maintain his composure. Bernard was simply not gifted in sport. Balls always bounced off him and his throws hit everything-Quintin's shins, Curtis glasses-except the target. Although of course he would never admit that.
The elves, meanwhile, had thrown themselves on Santa. Everyone celebrated the victory. Bernard leaned down to his boss. "Santa. We need to talk."
It was about time to let him know. Curtis had wasted enough time and now they only had a month left. Together they made their way to Santa's office. Bernard's stomach tightened. That wouldn't end well.
On arrival, the head elf fetched Santa's coat and handed it to him. To make matters worse, there was also the annual meeting of the Council of Legendary Figures. Absolutely nothing went as it should and the pain in Bernard's stomach intensified even more when he thought about what still had to be done.
"Strange," muttered Santa, tugging at his waistband, "those fit yesterday"
A worried "Uh-oh" came from the puppet stage. Bernard didn't know which of the elves had come up with the idea of furnishing Santa's rooms with hand puppets brought to life. He just knew that they were extremely annoying and that their comments did not contribute to the situation.
"Hot cocoa for you!"
“This is not a good time, Abby!” Bernard rebuked the cocoa elf.
Not that he had anything against Abby. She was kind, helpful, a good listener, as her job required. But she wasn't Judy. Judy had had a mental breakdown about two years ago. All of a sudden. Screeching hysterically, she had run around the workshop, throwing everything around her that was within reach. When Bernard had approached her to calm her down, she had grabbed a pot of cocoa and flung the scalding contents right in his face.
It was only thanks to Dr Hismus excellent care and strong healing magic that it hadn't left a trace. Triggered by the incident, his own head elf magic had also flared up. He had spent a month in the elfirmary plagued by febrile seizures. The flare-up of the head elf magic actually only happened once, namely when an elf became the head elf. It changed them, made them taller and physically older, as a sign that this elf was a leader and had to be respected. As a result, Bernard had outwardly aged from a teenager to a young adult. Judy couldn't be helped and so she was put into retirement. The last Bernard heard from her was that she resided in Las Vegas. He never thought she would retire before him.
"I sent Dasher to get Brazilian cocoa beans," Abby snapped him from his thoughts.
"What's the bad news?" Asked Santa and looked sharply at the elf.
"What do you mean?" She replied, putting on a fake innocent smile.
Bernard knew that smile. He suspected evil.
"Whenever you play the designer bean card, it means bad news."
Abby's face fell. Without a word she handed him a roll of parchment.
"What are you doing with the nice and list list?" Asked Santa.
Bernard shot Abby a sour look over his shoulder and put his arms on his hips.
"Just don't shoot the messenger." Guilty, she looked down.
Sighing, Santa put on his reading glasses and unrolled the document without taking his eyes off Abby.
"It's Charlie," she managed.
"Sheen?" Santa frowned. "I thought he straightened out."
"Not that Charlie."
Bernard looked back and forth between Santa and Abby. Chin raised defiantly. She didn't mean ...?
“My Charlie? My son Charlie is on the naughty list? ”Santa looked like he had been hit by a bag of bricks.
The puppets shrieked in horror and clapped their hands over their mouths.
"There's gotta be a mistake." His voice sounded like someone whose entire world was broken. And somehow it was the case.
“We don't make mistakes. Sorry Santa, please excuse me. ”Abby fled the room with her head bowed.
Bernard was torn. On the one hand, he wanted to follow Abby to comfort her. Contrary to his reputation as a cold-hearted jerk, it hurt him very much to see his elves so emotionally distressed. On the other hand, he knew that his duty as a head elf was also to stand by Santa and this priority unfortunately outweighed.
"Is that what you and Curtis wanted to tell me?" Now Santa sounded reproachful.
At that moment Curtis burst into the room, pushing the magnifying glass device.
“You told him? Great! Let's get you ready for that meeting! "
“I can't have the meeting here. I have to see Charlie! ", Santa replied, while Bernard closed his coat.
The head elf glared angrily at Curtis. "Number two, tell him right now!"
He wasn't going to let Curtis get away that easily! The younger one returned the glare, making him look more like a defiant toddler due to his small size and chubby cheeks.
"Tell me what? Come clean, guys! "Demanded Santa.
Curtis sighed. "Santa, there is a clause."
"That would be me."
"No, another clause."
"Curtis, in case you haven't noticed, this time of the year the malls are filled with other Santa Clauses."
"No, there is another Santa Clause. "
"Get on with it!" The puppets screamed.
"This was in your predecessor's coat," Curtis put Santa's business card into the holder of the device.
"Yes, I remember," said the boss and recited what was written. "And the rest would be history, right?"
"Apparently our number two", Bernard held up two fingers, " the keeper of the handbook, seems to have overlooked the single most important detail in the history of christmas!" His voice grew louder with every word.
Anyone who knew Bernard knew that the elf was on the verge of a full blown outburst. Not much was missing and he would freak out. The elf was often sassy and cynical. True outbursts of anger were rare with Bernard and therefore feared.
"Wow! One mistake in 900 years, "remarked Curtis dryly.
Bernard snorted. "Look!" He took a magnifying glass out of the device.
Santa blinked. "I can't see that."
"Better now?" He took out the next bigger one.
"Ehhh ..."
Magnifying glass 2.
"Or now?"
"It's getting there..."
Magnifying glass 3.
"How about now?"
"I can't see anything!" Sighed Santa.
With a little effort, Bernard took out the last and largest magnifying glass.
“Ah, now I see. The cardholder agrees to choose a woman of his choice ... true love ... not valid in the state of Utah ... Holy ... MATRIMONY? I HAVE TO GET MARRIED? "
Bernard swallowed. "Yes, it's the Mrs. Clause."
#the santa clause 2#fanfiction#bernard the head elf#bernard the elf#david krumholtz#spencer breslin#curtis the elf
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for the DWC: “If we don’t make it out alive, I’ll see you at the Maker’s side.” “Bold of you to assume you’re going there.” with a dash of mutual pining, Anders x Hamish Hawke?
thanks for the prompt! I wrote a lot more than I usually do for these :D here’s some fun act 1 pre-Handers, feat. the repetitive maps and hordes of baddies we all know and love from DA2 @dadrunkwriting
(also ended up more just Hawke pining than mutual oops)
rating: T
trigger warnings: blood, canon-typical violence, kidnapping, mention of starvation, typical Kirkwall unsanitary conditions
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All the warehouses in Kirkwall look the same. Which is unfortunate when one is trying to figure out where they are when one has been kidnapped.
“Who are you, again?” asks Hawke, when he’s finally freed from the sack over his head. “So many people seem to be angry at me, lately.” He remembers—he’s just being cheeky. The dwarf with the braided beard lets out a noise not unlike a growl.
“Athenril’s racked up quite the debt with the Dasher,” she says. “It’s time she pays. Or you do.”
“Have I mentioned I don’t work for Athenril anymore? I think I said it a few times, when you were tying me up back there.”
“I’m not here to ask questions,” spits the dwarf. Hawke rolls his eyes and leans back against the wall. At least they gave him a wall to lean against. The other dwarf, the clean-shaven one, paces, coiling and uncoiling a length of rope. He’s impatient. Hawke notes this.
“Suppose Athenril prefers to let me stay here rather than bail me out. What will you do with me?” asks Hawke.
The bearded dwarf examines the blade of Hawke’s sword with a menacing grin. “Then we see if anyone else is willing to pay her debt.”
“And if not?”
“We ain’t gonna feed ya,” snaps the bare-faced dwarf. Hawke nods, satisfied with the answer.
“Well, this is fun. Got any good stories while we wait?”
They do not have any good stories, and neither do the other half-dozen Carta dwarves who pass through to check up on them. Hawke is usually bad with time, but helpfully, the impatient dwarf announces it every ten minutes or so to his compatriot, so Hawke knows it’s been precisely two hours and fifteen minutes by the time anyone shows up.
“Hi Hal!” says Bethany.
He would wave to them if his hands weren’t tied. Varric and Bianca are with her, which he expected, but they seem to have roped Anders into their rescue mission as well, which is a surprise. It’s also a relief to have another person on their side, because the moment Bianca starts firing and Bethany’s lightning starts crackling, many more Carta dwarves come out of the various side rooms.
“Thank the Maker you’re alright,” says Anders, as he rushes to Hawke’s side. He throws up a barrier to protect them both as he cuts through the ropes.
“I’m glad you found me,” says Hawke. He hisses as the blade slips, and Anders nicks his skin.
“Shit! Sorry!” Anders presses his palm to Hawke’s forearm, and the cut closes as quickly as it had opened. The dull ache and itchiness of the rope burns also fades. Anders lets go, but then offers his hand to help Hawke stand up. For a moment, Hawke wonders if Anders is casting another spell, but it’s just Hawke feeling clammy. He’s nervous, of all things, and from what? Briefly holding Anders’ hand?
Their hands brush again, briefly, as Anders hands him the dagger he used to cut the ropes. It’s not Hawke’s usual weapon of choice, but beggars can’t be choosers when they’ve been kidnapped.
“Thanks,” says Hawke, realizing he hasn’t said it yet.
“Thank me when this is over,” says Anders.
Bethany is keeping a large group of them busy with a sort of miniature tornado, and Varric and Bianca are holding their ground on a stack of crates. Hawke throws an arc of ice at a pair of dwarves who are focused on Varric. They turn their attention to him, and the game is on.
The two are equipped for ranged fighting, so they fumble as Hawke advances, blocking their crossbow bolts with a force shield. One drops their crossbow and unsheathes a pair of daggers. It’s one more than Hawke has, but Hawke has magic, and even a dwarf is nothing against a blast of fire. Hawke is careful to keep the flames contained. The whole floor is straw, and though it might be a quick way out, he’s not keen on setting the entire docks district ablaze.
Hawke is suddenly struck from behind by something large and metallic. He stumbles forward, but catches himself on one of the archers, and manages to use them as a shield against the next blow. A quick jab to their back takes them out. The dwarf with the shield is trying to pin him against the wall, and the shield covers all of his torso, but Hawke spots a weakness and kicks it. The dwarf immediately doubles over and drops his sword and shield. Hawke scoops them up and leaves the knife in the gut of the other archer.
With a quick glance around the room, Hawke notices a few things: that Bethany is holding her own against four dwarves and doesn’t seem to have a scratch, that Varric is no longer shouting gleefully but rather complaining, and that the volume of Carta dwarves has approximately doubled. Surely, he thinks, the warehouse isn’t big enough for all of them. Between Hawke and Bethany, Anders is struggling to keep another pair of dwarves at bay, one with dual daggers and the others with a nasty-looking axe. Hawke rushes over to lessen the impact and give Anders time to recast his barriers.
“This isn’t going great,” says Hawke, parrying a blow from the one with the daggers.
“No, it’s not,” agrees Anders. He briefly grabs Hawke’s arm and a cool feeling flows through him at the point of contact, which Hawke recognizes as a haste spell. Hawke is about to tell him to save his energy on offense when a blade grazes his shin, and he thinks better of it.
“If we don’t make it out alive,” he pants, ducking under his (non-magical) shield to avoid a crossbow shot, “I’ll see you at the Maker’s side.”
Anders lets out a short laugh. “Bold of you to assume you’re going there.”
Hawke holds on to his own witty retort for a few minutes, until he’s catching his breath against an uncomfortably damp Darktown wall. There’s no sign of their pursuers. He immediately forgets his comeback when he notices that Anders is bleeding from a large gash on his arm. Hawke reaches out to heal it. Anders tries to pull away.
“Let me help,” insists Hawke. Anders inhales, and then relaxes, acquiescing. Hawke brings both hands to Anders’ arm and wills the flesh to knit back together. He’s a little slower than Anders is at healing, to begin with, and he guiltily stays a little longer than strictly necessary, making sure every layer of skin is healed and that Anders hasn’t lost too much blood.
“Thank you,” says Anders. He gives Hawke a soft smile, and that, Hawke thinks, makes this entire ordeal worth it. And it stings more than any of the injuries he got today when Anders closes off again and turns down his invitation to join them at the Hanged Man.
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lil exerpt of varric + amell chat, bc it's less embarrassing to share like this than link my messy gdoc
As icy as an archdemon’s heart and twice as disconcertingly wet, Haven had not improved since last she saw it. Her first visit had been in late summer, before the snows had fully enveloped it. This time she was seeing it in the dead of Wintersend. The only improvement was the absence of cultist blood slicking the stones, though they were still so slippery from ice she would have tripped if not for the Seeker’s quick reflexes and steady sword arm.
Despite the helping hand, Cassandra had hardly spoken two words to her on the long journey across Ferelden, though Amell often caught her peering owlishly. If not for the Seeker’s relatively effusive behavior upon their first meeting in Amaranthine, Amell might have taken it for awkward infatuation.
As soon as her things were tucked away, Amell popped into the small tavern at the heart of the village. The nervous young innkeeper was eager to greet her, and Amell managed to secure both a seat by the roaring hearth and a bowl of their best turnip stew. The flavor was fine, but the warmth of it going down was holier than the Ashes. Amell spent so long savoring it with her eyes closed that she didn’t realize she had company until she heard the scrape of a chair.
Varric Tethras. Despite having shared quite a bit of road, they hadn’t actually had an opportunity to speak. What little time he and Cassandra didn’t burn with their glaring contests, Amell had spent working through her daily stack of dire missives.
“If you’re looking for new material, I’m afraid I’ve already been thoroughly mined,” Amell said. Having already scooped up all the boiled turnips and onions, she lay her spoon down and sipped bone broth directly from the bowl.
“Precisely why I’m not interested,” Varric replied smoothly. He’d foregone stew in favor of ale. An error, in Amell’s opinion; alcohol just masks the cold. Still used to Kirkwall’s temperate climes, she thought. “I just figured us prisoners should stick together.”
That startled a little laugh out of her. “A prisoner, am I?”
“As much Nightingale’s as I am the Seeker’s.” He sipped his ale. “Though why they need both of us, I don’t know.” Under his smooth tone, the resentment was palpable.
“Well, I’m here for decorative purposes,” Amell said lightly. “As for you...have you tried just offering to autograph Tale of the Champion?”
Varric chuckled humorlessly. “I tried, but it was a little hard to do around the dagger stabbed through her copy.”
Amell tsked. “Everyone’s a critic.” Another sip. “Though I’ll admit I’m more of a Dasher’s Men fan, myself.”
Now that knocked a genuine reaction out of him. Instead of casually observing the room over his mug of ale, he twisted in his chair to face her directly. “No shit. You read that one?”
“Oh yes,” she said airily. “Every time I’m tired of dealing with the Bannorn, I like to pick up a dwarven political thriller to remind myself it could be worse.”
He laughed sincerely this time. “You know, that scene in the Dust Town tunnels, that really happened to a guy I knew. Mind you, he had to go topside to avoid getting shanked over it.” He shook his head, then paused to look her over thoughtfully. “You know, it’s funny...you don’t look anything alike, but the family resemblance is uncanny.”
“I don’t know, some dark mornings I look in the mirror and see a little too much Carver staring back,” she joked, gently tapping her fingers along her chin and jaw.
Varric smiled into his mug. “How is Junior?”
Amell’s mood instantly plummeted. Her last letter had been from him. He didn’t even need to sign it; at this point she knew his handwriting. All it said was: We’re all hearing it now. Fix my sister’s mess and get home as soon as possible.
He didn’t need to tell her. In the time between Leliana’s recruiting visit and finally journeying to Haven, she’d begun to hear it, too. Back in Amaranthine, it’d been quiet. The occasional whisper startling her out of a reverie. But now...now she heard the music. The beautiful, eerie music softly tugging at her attention every waking minute. It had only grown more insistent the further west they traveled.
Amell cleared her throat. “Oh, you know. A Warden’s life is all glamor.” From the slight furrow in Varric’s brow, her hesitation had not gone unnoticed.
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