#animations are offered but please give me leniency

[chasmbreach]

commissions are open! you can find more info here.

[theunavenged]

A Mother's Struggle

The first fic I published on AO3! Re-sharing in honor of Mother's Day 💕 This started as a headcanon of mine (i.e. Jason only turned to thievery after his mom got into trouble with loan sharks) then evolved into a short story exploring my beloved Catherine's relationship with young Jason and her struggle with addiction.

Read on AO3 (please comment & kudos if you enjoy!)

Catherine held the burning cigarette between two trembling fingers, shaking free bits of ash onto the table below. The word was out: Willis was dead. The bastard left her with nothing but his gambling debts, and now the sharks were circling. Two of her late husband’s associates were standing in her kitchen, their appetites whetted for either cash or blood.

She looked up at the men, trying her best to hold back both tears and vomit. “I’ll get your money, I swear. I just need more time. Please.”

Vinny, the elder of the pair—a short man with a greasy black ponytail and a leathery face made for scowls—lunged forward and gripped the table with both hands, causing Catherine to jump back with a gasp and nearly spill from her chair.

“Do we look like we represent a charitable organization, lady?” he snarled, his upper lip curling to reveal crooked, nicotine-stained teeth. “We ain’t in the habit of offering leniency to junkies and degenerates.”

“Look around,” Catherine said, waving her hand at the dilapidated apartment. “I’ve got nothing to give you.”

She and Willis were never well-off but there was a time when this little apartment of theirs had a touch of class. She decorated it herself, kept it spotless—she desperately wanted her Willis to be happy and proud. She was a naive child back then, still wrapped up in a schoolgirl’s fantasy of having a “gangster” as a husband. But over the years their apartment’s upscale facade chipped away, much like that of their marriage. Now the home they had once shared was run-down and filthy. The plaster walls were full of cracks and yellowing from the years of cigarette smoke. The hardwood floors were covered in scuffs, scratches, and layers of grime. Rats and roaches brazenly scurried about from their holes in the woodwork. Most of the furniture and decor had been sold off to pay bills… or to feed her addictions.

“Please, you have to understand,” Catherine pleaded, her voice faltering now. “Willis left me with nothing. Not a dime. I'm a single mom with a kid to feed. Please give me a break.”

Vinny suddenly lunged at her again, grabbing her by the wrist. Catherine yelped as he yanked up her arm and ripped back her sleeve. The inside of her elbow was dotted with needle holes, marking her attempts to escape the pain of the present and return to those happier days when a well-kept apartment was her only concern.

“A kid to feed, huh?” Vinny scoffed. “Looks to me like you’re shooting most of his meals into your arm.”

Vinny’s partner laughed, and Catherine’s eyes darted toward the second man who hung back behind Vinny with his arms crossed against his chest. She didn’t recognize the tall, 30-something man, but those hawk-like features and twinkling, dark eyes of his sent a chill racing down her spine. Vinny had a reputation for his hot temper, but this other man with his calm demeanor and evident amusement for her situation seemed far more dangerous.

Catherine swallowed hard, hoping to hide some of her fear from these animals, but when she spoke her voice was a frightened squeak. “I’m gonna stay clean from now on, I swear. I’ll… I’ll go back to work. Whatever it takes. I’ll have your money soon, just please don’t hurt me.”

“Mom?” a small voice asked warily.

Catherine's heart leapt into her throat and she let out a strangled cry. Vinny dropped her arm, and both men spun around to face the interruption. Behind them stood a 10-year-old boy, hands stuffed into the pockets of worn, school-issued khakis, suspiciously eying the strangers. There was no hope in holding back her tears now, which trickled down her cheeks at the sight of her son. Why? Why did he have to come home now of all times? She slid out of her seat at the table and pushed past Vinny, hurrying toward her son. The scrawny boy, with his mop of black hair and icy blue eyes, was a shadow of his late father. Even his casual stance and mistrustful frown reminded her of the man she once loved. Catherine kneeled in front of the boy. She pushed a curl behind his ear and forced herself to smile at him, but the boy glared through her, his eyes still fixed on the two men.

“Jason, sweetheart,” Catherine spoke tenderly. She took her son's face in her hands—how drawn it had become over the past year, how little of his darling “baby fat” now remained—and gently turned it toward her own. When his eyes finally met hers and she saw the anger burning behind them, a shiver went through her. She tried to keep her voice steady, despite the fear and nausea and guilt and wistfulness all weighing down on her at once. “Why don’t you go outside and play until your father’s friends leave, okay?”

“Yeah kid. Listen to your mom and beat it,” the tall man seconded in a sinister tone as dark and cold as his eyes.

But Catherine knew that Jason wouldn’t listen. He never listened, at least not when it came to protecting her. Her son knew exactly who these men were, why they were there, and what they were after. Jason was a smart kid—he had to be. You grew up fast when you were thrust into this pitiful life of his. With a two-bit criminal father who preferred the company of his “whores” to his family, and a drug-addicted mother who was too weak to cope with losing the affections of her first love, Jason was forced to step up and take over the responsibility of providing for his family. A child, who should be spending his summers playing baseball or video games, was instead out on the crime-ridden streets of Gotham City begging for food and money so that he and his pathetic excuse for a mother wouldn’t starve to death. Catherine had to straighten up for Jason’s sake. Willis was gone for good this time, and her sweet son needed a mother more than ever now.

Jason glanced from Catherine to the tall man and back. Catherine stroked her son’s hair once more and tried to hold onto his gaze with a reassuring smile but she felt her lips start to quiver. Please Jason, just this once, she begged him silently. Let me take care of myself. But her fearlessly stubborn son would never turn his back on her, even in the face of danger—especially in the face of danger. Jason’s face darkened as he narrowed his eyes at the tall man and said: “Get out of my apartment.”

Catherine shrunk away helplessly, sitting back onto her calves, her shoulders slumped. Her worst fear was realized; they would hurt him for this. She squeezed her eyes shut but the tears still leaked out. “Jason…” she whimpered under her breath.

Read the rest on AO3→

[honorhearted]

Ripley shrugged, peering up at him with wide, nauseatingly forlorn eyes. "Sir, what else was I supposed to do? If I'd made myself known, I was likely to be mistaken for King's Army and shot from the guard towers."

"We are not animals," Benjamin coolly replied. "If a defector appears seeking sanctuary, or offering a flag of truce, then we do not fire -- we let them in for discussion." His smile grew threadbare. "You could've been afforded the same courtesy, had you been truthful. Alas, now we have to do the extra go-around."

Ripley curled inward, bowing his head akin to one of Benjamin's chastened students. "This is what I get for trying to help..."

Benjamin barely suppressed a snort. "If you're claiming aid, you've certainly taken your sweet old time in alerting me to such a fact. If help or information was truly your intention, why didn't you lead in with this offer?"

Ripley seemed about ready to grovel. "Be reasonable, sir. Please," he begged. There was a slight quiver in his voice. "It's not what you think."

This time, Benjamin did scoff. "'Be reasonable?'" he echoed, outraged. "I think I've been damnably reasonable, all things considered! I could've had you shot upon sight -- I could've had you tortured or maimed, but instead, I've been giving you far more patience and lenience than you deserve! Defectors are cowards." Curling his upper lip, Benjamin continued, "Opportunists grow fat upon the fruits of the victorious. And if that's your intention here, then I regret to inform you that here in this army, we expect cooperation and results -- neither of which you have given me."

The whimpering whelp barely seemed to hear him. Appearing more hangdog than ever, Ripley sniveled, "May I have my spectacles back, sir? Please, I can't see."

Jaw tight, Benjamin moved toward the adjacent wall and snatched up a small satchel. Digging around inside, he retrieved the spectacles, safe and intact, before placing them upon Ripley's face with gruff impatience.

"There," Benjamin tightly replied. "Now that you can see, perhaps you can finally visualize the danger you're in. Here in this army, we don't take kindly to liars -- we hang them, in fact, so I'd suggest you finally become forthright with your intentions."

Blackwood was right about the man's temperament.

Eyes flickering briefly to the figure positioned at one corner of the room, Tom wondered if this display of bravado was for the other man's sake more than his own. It'd make more sense if that was true; it'd make more sense for this man, this Major Tallmadge, to exert his title and what little power he held in this camp through intimidating speeches.

Still, that didn't make it any less difficult for Tom to quell his urge to laugh; it was funny, all of this; his being ushered into camp and now Tallmadge acting predictably. While he was no fanatic of Major Blackwood's, Tom respected the man's observations; if anything, at least he'd been sent across enemy lines with correct information; he could work with that.

His eyes remained fixed on the blurred form of the Major, though he wasn't listening much to the drivel spat at him; no, he was contemplating what the camp might present him for dinner; he'd heard the rebels fed their prisoners better.

Tom almost liked not wearing his glasses now; it made the Major's display that much more ridiculous; prancing around in blue, acting as if he was about to run a prisoner through with his saber, there was comedy in the act; it reminded him of one of those performances he'd snuck into back in the city, watching as a faux stagehand; the ones where the officers took on the roles, even the feminine ones. For never meeting the man, Tom wondered if Tallmadge might be the same as his parallel, Major Andre; the King's own head of intelligence seemed just as keen when it came to performances. 

“You were caught skulking through our grounds without any recognizable means of identification,”

"Sir, what else was I supposed to do? If I'd made myself known, I was likely to be mistaken for King's Army and shot from the guard towers."

Tom's palms were sweating and the perspiration on his back caused his shirt to stick to his skin. It was uncomfortably warm in the room, wherever this was in camp; it was indoors, somewhere substantial enough for there to be a hearth; why the hearth was blazing in the middle of the afternoon, he didn't know, but the heat of the sun beating down on the covered windows certainly wasn't helping. How could the man stand it? He was in full uniform.

“Of course you would claim you’re taking a risk, because you bloody well are. I don’t know, you, sir – no one here knows you – so the likelihood of this being a redcoat defection or, worse yet, an infiltration is likely.”

Sinking back into his chair, Tom mimicked a flower wilting, his brow furrowed, disappointment etched along his features. Muttering under his breath, he cast his gaze away, looking down at his stockinged feed - they'd taken his boots too; it was too bad; he liked those shoes, he hoped he'd get them back - "This is what I get for trying to help..."

His head still turned from the Major, he glanced toward the curtained window, the sun lightening the colored fabric; it was patterned, but he couldn't tell if it was a floral pattern or something entirely else; stolen curtains, most likely; commandeered. As for how tiresome this war was, that was the part that amused him the most.

"Be reasonable, sir. Please." His voice wavered. "It's not what you think."

Could he manage at tears? No, he supposed not; besides, tears weren't always needed to display frustration.

Looking back at the man, "I… I'm sorry. This was a bad idea and I never should've come."

Shifting his eyes from side to side, he added as an afterthought, his voice sounding smaller than before, "May I have my spectacles back, sir? Please, I can't see."

[aurorasilverthorne]

Total Misunderstanding Part #3

______________

Disclaimer: Elena of Avalor and all its characters belong to Disney.

Note: Llorona belongs to me. If you use her in fanart or fanfiction, please remember to give me proper credit as her creator. Thank you.

______________

"Chief Zephyr might let you stay on Mooncliff Mountain with us until you figure out where you want to go," Cruz suggested as they ate lunch and discussed what Llorona could do and also where she might go now that she'd run away from the palace.

Llorona finished her food and crumpled up the plate before tossing it in a nearby trash bin. She'd considered going to Hortensia Paloma. The magister of the trading guild had always been nice to the princess even on the days she hadn't purchased anything at her emporium.

Doña Paloma didn't like her parents either so she likely wouldn't tell them Llorona was there. However, if her mother or father happened to show up and find out she was hiding at the emporium, they'd probably punish her for being outside the palace, and she didn't want Paloma to get in trouble for helping her.

Llorona didn't know what the penalty was for aiding runaway royals, but given how strict her mother was, she figured the reprimand would probably be a harsh one. Neither of her parents were known to show much leniency whenever it came to upholding Avaloran law.

She didn't want to risk the jaquins getting hurt either though. Her mother hated animals, but she especially despised the flying jaguars who liked to sing and cause mischief which didn't bode well with her mother who preferred everything to be tidy and quiet. Her mother would incinerate them all with her Vadisima spell if she caught Llorona going anywhere near them. Just being around Cruz put the jaquin cub's life in danger. Llorona had told him that, but he refused to leave her side until she found a safe place to stay.

"What are you going to do?" Cruz asked once she'd said no to his offer to live at the cliffs with him and the rest of the jaquin clan.

"I'll figure out something," she told him. "I just...need time to think. Let's go look around some more."

Cruz nodded. "Okay!"

Llorona stood and dusted herself off before turning towards the vendor stalls only to bump into a man's leg. She tried to apologize, but the man grabbed onto her arm and attempted to drag her out of the market. Llorona started struggling, kicking and crying out for help, but the people in the market probably assumed the man was her father or some relative and she was throwing a tantrum. Cruz knew better, however, and leapt forward sinking both his teeth and claws into the man's lower arm.

The man cried out and let go of Llorona's arm. The jaquin cub and the princess tried to run away while the man was busy clutching at his injured arm and spewing profanities, but another even larger man got in their way as they were trying to leave.

"Get the niña," the first man ordered. "I don't give a damn what happens to the jaquin!"

"I've got her," the second replied reaching towards Llorona.

"Contali!"

All at once both men were thrown backward into the nearest wall. Llorona stood wide eyed as a man in dark blue robes appeared beside her pointing a tamborita at the two men.

"I've always detested adults who bully children," he said pausing to adjust the double headed serpent clasp on his cloak.

The man was so tall Llorona had to crain her neck just to see his face which was long with rather large green eyes and an extended goatee that matched his salt and pepper hair. He aimed his tamborita at the two men as they began pushing themselve up off the ground.

"Ecatuul!"

Llorona watched as the two men were swept up into the tornado the strange wizard conjured. She heard the two shouting and saw their arms and legs flailing as it carried them off to Maru only knew where.

The princess and the jaquin cub uttered a simultaneous "Wow..."

The wizard was putting his tamborita away when they approached him.

"That was amazing," Cruz exclaimed.

The wizard ignored Cruz and focused on Llorona. "A young child such as yourself should not be traipsing around here unattended. Where are your parents, girl, and why aren't they with you?"

His stern tone had Llorona taking a apprehensive step back. "Mamá and Papá don't want me. I was an accident. That's why I'm here. To find somewhere else to live."

The wizard frowned. "I see. What's your name, girl?"

Llorona eyed him warily. "Who wants to know?"

He seemed surprised by her question, or perhaps he was amused. Either way he gave a dramatic gesture and said, "I am, Fiero, the most feared and powerful malvago in all of Avalor. And you are?"

Llorona motioned to Cruz then to herself. "He's Cruz and I'm Ro."

Fiero quirked an eyebrow. "Ro? Am I to assume that's short for something else?"

"No. It's just Ro."

"Well, 'Just Ro', you and your furry friend need to be more careful. Even a nice kingdom like Avalor has its dangers-as you just learned. Keep to the main streets if you're looking for food or work and stay out of trouble, elsewise you'll fall in with the wrong crowd and end up stuck somewhere you don't want to be doing things you won't like. Understand?"

Llorona nodded. "Si, señor."

Fiero gave a stiff nod. "Good. Now if you don't mind, I'll be on my way."

The malvago wasn't a fool. He knew who the girl was. Only one woman in Avalor had eyes such a dark, vivid shade of emerald green.

It seemed Shuriki had found a man insane enough to sire her child. Fiero couldn't help wondering who she'd chosen and whether or not the poor, unfortunate lunatic had even survived the conception. The sorceress didn't seem all that affectionate or merciful, so it wasn't surprising in the least that she hadn't turned out to be an attentive mother.

Fiero pretended not to notice that the child and jaquin cub were following him while he took a long stroll through the market. A malvago's life was rather lonely-albeit fulfilling, so a bit of company now and then was appreciated even if that company was a little girl and her pet trailing after him at what they perceived to be a safe distance.

Fiero didn't mind keeping an eye on the two youngsters if only to make certain nobody else tried to bother them. He wasn't usually one to involve himself in the affairs of other people, but when it came to a child's well-being, well...even a malvago could have a heart from time to time.

[ehstarwar]

the gentler gamester is the soonest winner (3/4)

“And that reminds me,” Poe says. “I got you a present.”

Now this piques Rey’s interest.

“Is it the cupcake I saw at the supermarket last Wednesday? I’ve never seen so much icing on one piece of cake; it was truly a remarkable confection.”

“Um, not exactly.” Rey tries not to let her face fall too much; she was still getting a gift, after all. “I invited Ben.”

-

Poe throws a party and is decidedly not trying to get Ben and Rey together.

-

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 2K

Read on AO3

Notes: you know that saying, 'you're going to hurt but it's gonna be worth it'? y'all know that one? tis a good mantra to have for this chapter, i think

Chapter 3: when I waked, I cried to dream again

-

“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” Rey tells Poe for the 100th time that day.

“Ugh, Rey. It is past midterms. Everyone needs to blow off a little steam. Including you. Especially you, as a matter of fact.” Rey tried not to frown too hard and look like the petulant child she felt she was at the moment.

“I don’t need to blow off steam. I need to figure out a sufficient way to write about it for my physics class.”

Poe sighs and spins the office chair that was acting as a salon chair around to face him. 

“It is thursday. Thirsty Thursday. The day universally decided by college students as the day to get fucked up. I have ben very gracious about my leniency with you missing Thirsty Thursdays this semester because I know you have a large course load and have to study more often than not.” Rey was ready to accept his apology and move on and have a grand night; if Poe stopped at that, which, of course, he couldn’t.

“BUT,” he begins again, and Rey does not repress the eye roll,”this is probably the last week you’re going to accept my offer to come to Thirsty Thursday for the rest of the semester. And I, for one, want to hang out with one of my best friends before she throws herself into a self-induced solitary state for finals. So please, try and enjoy the fun events your peers and I put on for you. Please.”

Rey huffs. “You’re not even a college student,” She grumbles. Poe grins triumphantly, clearly the winner of this argument. “How would your boss, President Organa, feel about you corrupting students with wild parties?”

“Your argument is invalid because one: Leia Organa is the President of the University and Amilyn Holdo is the Director of Admission, and therefore, my boss. And two, if anyone knows the benefits of a good gathering, it’s Leia! She was quite the wild child in her day,” Poe says, expressing great admiration for President Organa. She felt it too, albeit, for different reasons.

“And that reminds me,” Poe suddenly swung the chair back around and Rey was forced to grip the handles to steady herself. “I got you a present.”

Now this piques Rey’s interest. 

“Is it the cupcake I saw at the supermarket last Wednesday? I’ve never seen so much icing on one piece of cake; it was truly a remarkable confection.”

“Um, not exactly.” Rey tries not to let her face fall too much; she was still getting a gift, after all. “I invited Ben.”

Reg grips the handles so hard she’s surprised it maintains it molecular structure of plastic. 

“Why?”

“You guys were a little weird with each other the other day, but like in a sexy way; like you guys are definitely gonna fuck at some point but neither of you know how to speak to each other. So I figured I’d help things along and invite him.”

Rey’s jaw clenches. She tries to keep her face as passive as possible, which is proving to be… challenging.

“Ben is essentially a superior. We can’t fuck. And we don’t want to. It’s not going to happen.”

“Sure, Jan.”

“Poe! I’m serious. It’s… not like that.” If it weren’t for the curling wand wrapped in her hair and being utilized by Poe, Rey would’ve stormed out of there and right to the supermarket for her mountain-of-icing cupcake. She’s sure of it.

“Well, whatever it’s like or not like, he’s coming.”

“How do you know? You said he never comes to things like this.”

“Ben actually responded to me. He said: ‘I’ll think about it’, which is Solo-speak for ‘yeah, I’m coming’.”

Rey grumbles to herself for a few moments, trying not to bite her nails. A nervous habit she’s been trying to break since before her parents left her. She wonders about Ben’s parents for a moment before stomping that thought down.

“I will agree to stay for the majority of the party tonight as long as you promise to never mess with my love-life again, got it?” She points at Poe through the mirror, trying to be as intimidating as possible for someone with butterfly clips holding parts of their hair back, can.

“So you admit, Ben is apart of your love life?” The trademark Dameron smirk flashed across Poe’s face.

Rey just frowned and tried to take a power nap while he worked. She wouldn’t give Poe the satisfaction of being right. 

Even if he was.

-

The thing about Poe is, he don’t just throw a party; he throws The Party. He has the miraculous ability to turn any setting into an Animal House level of chaos, while perfectly predicting the amount of alcohol needed to sustain such an enviroment. He plays the perfect music at the perfect volume, invites the perfect amount of people, and has the prefect response to any problems that could arise. 

Except, of course, the problem of what Rey should say to her teachers assistant who she may have a crush on but shouldn’t have a crush on. Well, Poe would probably have a solution for that too, but not one she’s willing to entertain.

Rey has stationed herself between the kitchen and the living room of Poe’s townhouse, the only place where there wasn’t a ping pong table in her way or sweaty frat dudes grinding on girls with too little clothing. She’s nursing the vodka soda that’s gone flat about twenty minutes ago, but venturing into the kitchen is too much of a risk.

She smiles at people walking by, makes small talk with Kaydel and asks about her all black ensemble (‘It’s a full moon, Rey’ she says, like it’s the most obvious thing), and tries to bide her time until Poe is sufficiently drunk and she can sneak out.

This is also where Ben finds her, when Poe is roughly two shots of Jagermister away from not noticing Rey’s existence. 

“Hi,” He says over the music.

“Hey,” She shouts back. They say nothing for a few awkward moments and Rey has time to look Ben over. 

The black henley is probably more expensive than her entire wardrobe and his dark wash jeans seem to be his signature. But it is a beautiful signature. One people remark on. One she wants to rip off him. One she wants to walk over in the morning while he cooks her pancakes and bacon.

“You look nice,” Ben says, and Rey realizes she’s staring. 

“You too.”

“This is a nice house.”

“Yeah.”

Rey is admittedly not the best conversationalist but this is bad, even for her. Fuck it, she thinks.

“Do you want to get a drink?” She asks. Ben nods, so she grabs his hand and leads him up the stairs. Poe has a hidden mini fridge in his closet, which he uses for facial products, the Really Good Liqour, and emergencies. 

This particular moment constitutes and emergency, Rey thinks. One of the social variety.

Ben’s hand is warm and large and she really can’t help it if his fingers lace through hers on their way up the stairs. She also can’t help it if her hips swish a little more than necessary, too.

Rey quickly pulls him into Poe’s room, and heads to the mini fridge. 

“Poe has good liquor in here, I think,” She says, pushing his clothes to the side to get to it. When she opens it use, she finds two empty mini-bottles of grey goose, two white claws, and a bottle of water. Thanks for nothing, Dameron. “Well, he always told me he has good liquor in here. White claw?” She holds one out to Ben. 

“Um… water will be fine. Thanks,” She passes him the bottle, noticing how his right hand dwarfs it and how his left hand is still intertwined with hers. She makes no move to let him go and neither does he. 

They sip their drinks, feeling the bass of whatever EDM hit shake the walls around them. She was waiting for him to make a move. She’d done her part, gotten them here, gotten them alone; it was only fair that Ben give an indication this this isn’t one-sided. 

“Do you… like parties?” He asks. His thumb was rubbing distracting circles on the back of her hand. 

“Not at all” Not unless you’re here. “Poe had to bribe me.”

“With what?”

Your presence. “A cupcake.”

A slow soft smile spreads across Ben’s lips and Rey accidentally squeezes his hand too hard to be polite. 

“Poe told us you never come to parties.” She breaks the silence. The weight of his smile and stare feeling like a warm blanket around her. 

“I usually don’t?”

“Did he bribe yo to come, too?”

“Yeah.”

“With a cupcake?”

“No.” He pauses and Rey realizes that they’ve drifted closer together. She can see the outline of his chest through the tight fabric. She can smell the expensive after-shave on his jaw. She can feel the warmth radiating off him, beckoning her closer. “With you.”

Rey doesn’t know who moves first, all she knows that however soft she imagined his lips to be, they’re even softer. His mouth moves against hers, hungry and desperate. She slides her tongue into his mouth, tangling with his. His hands go to cup her head, holding her against him, and hers go to feel him through his shirt. 

He pushes her up against the wall, gently probing his leg between hers, keeping her pinned. His mouth moves to pepper kisses across her jaw and she can’t help but cry out. Ben works down her throat, having to lean down to reach it. She feels him; solid and warm and everything she’s ever wanted in a partner. 

Rey pulls his face back up to hers, willingly slotting their mouths together again. She gives an experimental rock of her hips against his thigh, causing him to rumble her name. Rey feels the vibrations more than hears his voice and it is by far her favorite way anyones ever said her name. 

Suddenly, she feels his hands on her shoulders, pushing her back against the wall and any from him. Ben’s head hangs between them and she hears him muttering creative curse words.

“What’s wrong?” She asks desperately, willing her hands to stop instinctively reaching out towards. him.

“I can’t.”

The words hit her like ice water.

“What?”

“I can’t do this, Rey.” His voice is deeper than she’s heard before and pained.

“Why?” The desperation in her voice is unattractive, she’s sure, but she can’t be bothered with that.

“I’m essentially you teacher. This is… not okay.”

Ben finally looks back up at Rey, still keeping her shoulders firmly back to the wall. She can practically see the emotion swirling in his deep brown eyes, but is to keyed up to make sense of it. After a moment, he lets her go, removing himself and putting a good six feet between them. 

“You’re leaving.” It’s a statement she’s said one too many times, but this one stings the most. 

“I’m sorry. Pleas just… I’m sorry.”

Ben is out the door before Rey can stop him. 

-

She makes it to her front door before the tears come.

[deliriousabsol]

More Things Than You Ever Cared To Know About My Writing

This was originally posted by ‘vorchagirl’, reblogged by someone I follow. And I thought it would be fun to just outright answer these in a questionnaire type way, rather than as asks. So here we go =)

Feel free to do this yourselves if you like it. Just please remember to add the original poster.

Fanfiction Questions

Fandom Questions

1. What was the first fandom you got involved in?

Properly? Probably Pokemon. I’ve been writing fanfiction for it for years.

2. What is your latest fandom?

Funnily enough, Sonic, despite being a fan since I was like seven years old. I’ve just never seriously got into it since then until now.

3. What is the best fandom you’ve ever been involved in?

The Pokemon fandom. I’ve made some awesome friends in it.

4. Do you regret getting involved in any fandoms?

You hear things, but I’ve not really come across any toxicity besides the reaction to the Sonic Movie.

5. Which fandoms have your written fanfiction for?

A good few, but the only ones you’ll find are Pokemon, Sonic and Zootopia.

6. List your OTP from each fandom you’ve been involved in.

Zootopia - Judy/Nick

Sonic - Shadow/Rouge, Silver/Blaze

Pokemon - I don’t usually ship in Pokemon, but Jessie/James because reasons

7. List your NoTPs from each fandom you’ve been in.

Sonic/Amy. Sorry. Some art is cute, but it’s not my jam.

Shadow/Maria. I don’t ship animals with humans.

I also don’t ship yaoi/yuri pairings.

I do not poop on any ship. If it’s one I’m not fond of, I just scroll on and leave it be. Shipping can be pretty toxic sometimes, and I just don’t get it at all.

8. How did you get involved in your latest fandom?

I was writing Mask Behind the Monster and my husband’s aunt suggested I join a specific Sonic forum to post it in. So I joined the Amino and posted it, all nervous. The reception blew me away, and I met some awesome people, so I stuck around.

9. What are the best things about your current fandom?

The friends I’ve made.

10.  Is there a fandom you read fic from but don’t write in?

Probably. Can’t think of any off the top of my head.

Ship Questions for your Current Fandom

11. Who is your current OTP?

Shadow/Rouge. Also Infinite/Amy. This is because of my current writing projects.

12. Who is your current OT3?

None.

13. Any NoTPs?

We’ve been over this *looks up*

14. Go on, who are your BroTPs?

Sonic/Tails =3

15. Is there an obscure ship which you love?

Infinite/Amy. I didn’t initially.  But if it’s done right, and there are reasons for them to be together in that setting, then it works. 

16. Are their any popular ships in your fandom which you dislike?

Sonic/Shadow, Infinite/Gadget

I’m also not a fan of most Pokemon anime ships.

17. Who was your first OTP and are they still your favourite?

Knuckles/Amy. I still have a soft spot for it.

18. What ship have you written the most about?

Amy/Espio. I went through a phase... Read a couple of ‘fics and thought ‘Why not? Sounds like fun.’ XD

19. Is there a ship which you wished you could get behind, but you just don’t feel them?

Not really. As much as I like shipping, because I’m a fluff-junkie, I have to just like it.

20. Any ships which you surprised yourself by liking?

Again. Inf/Amy. This one took me by surprise.

Author Questions

21. What was the first fanfic you ever wrote?

Erm... if I remember right, Some cringy self-insert Pokemon ‘fic when I was like 14/15.

22. Is there anything you regret writing?

Everything I regret writing has been deleted.

23. Name a fic you’ve written that you’re especially fond of & explain why you like it.

The End and Mask Behind the Monster. I can’t choose one over the other. They were both written with a lot of meaning and emotion behind them, and I have a soft spot for both.

24. What fic do you desperately need to rewrite or edit?

I keep thinking about re-writing The End, but I worry it will lose its fire if I do...

25. What’s your most popular fanfic?

I think... THINK... it’s Mask Behind the Monster.

26. How do you come up with your fanfic titles?

To Title is hard. System:Reboot was a suggestion off a friend who I have lost touch with. Its working title is ‘Hacked’. A lot of my stories have preliminary working titles until I come up with something. The End was named after a song. Confectionary Conundrum was originally called ‘Sugar Snow’ which is the name of the sweet shop in that story. The Mainframe Saga’s Scrivener file is still called ‘Datastream’. Its separate books have been renamed as I’ve been ‘planning’ them out (as much as I plan).

27. What do you hate more: Coming up with titles or writing summaries?

Probably summaries, because FFNet leaves very little space to do so.

28. If someone were to draw a piece of fanart for your story, which story would it be and what would the picture be of?

I have actually had fanart, so this is hard to say. A lot of people like drawing my cyberpunk Infinite redesign which has surprised me.

29. Do you have a beta reader? Why/Why not?

My husband proof-reads my stuff, and then I question him on it. I don’t have a beta. I’ve thought about it, but I stick to a strict time-frame when it comes to uploads where I strictly give myself very little leniency. So if it wasn’t beta’d in time, I’d get a little frustrated and I do not like to pester people. I also worry I’ll be told to edit and cut a LOT, and I don’t like to butcher my ‘fics. I do that enough while I’m writing 8D

30. What inspires you to write?

My faith. That is a BIG one. You will find references and metaphors to my faith throughout my stories. Particularly in The End and The Mask Behind the Monster. Music is another huge inspiration drive. I’ve come up with entire scenes and even plots or sub-plots listening to music. I was just on a walk listening to some cyberpunk tracks when I got the spark for The Mainframe Saga.

31. What’s the nicest thing someone has ever said about your writing?

Oh boy. Where do I start? I think I was especially moved when someone told me they read The Mask Behind the Monster to their sisters.

32. Do you listen to music when you write or does music inspire you? If so, which band or genre of music does it for you?

Yes. A lot. I listen to a variety of stuff from Christian rock and EDM to cyberpunk instrumental tracks. Main bands are Thousand Foot Krutch, Family Force Five, Cruxshadows, Holon, Misanthropix, Scandroid and Celldweller.

33. Do you write oneshots, multi-chapter fics or huuuuuge epics?

It really varies. I lean towards epics. Even Glitched ended up being longer than planned, if memory serves, although it’s not epic length. The Mainframe Saga is made up of chaptered ‘fics, ficlets and one-shots.

34. What’s the word count on your longest fic?

I couldn’t tell you, because Scrivener crashes when I try to get the word count for System:Reboot XD

35. Do you write drabbles? If so, what do you normally write them about?

I don’t, but I have thought about it.

36. What’s your favourite genre to write?

Sci-Fi. Hands down.

37. First person or third person - what do you write in and why?

I prefer third person, particularly restricted third person, because it is easier to write about different characters. That way the reader knows what’s going on when the main cast do not. I was very surprised I enjoyed writing first person so much in Mask Behind the Monster, though. But I did leap into third person a couple of times to give a wider perspective.

38. Do you use established canon characters or do you create OCs?

I love creating OCs. But I will use canon characters in the Sonic fandom.

39. What is you greatest strength as a writer?

From what I’ve been told, character development.

40. What do you struggle the most with in your writing?

Violence. And tragic back stories. I have legit questioned my sanity when coming up with scenes that include this.

Also... when I write fluff... I kind of grind to a halt and struggle through it. Often interspersed with gazing from the window and thinking well further ahead than where I’m currently at. This often results in forgetting dialogue I think up during my garden gazing.

Fanfiction Questions

41. List and link to 5 fanfics you are currently reading:

I won’t post links because it is much too fiddly. But Guiding Light by Ambyssin, Heart Song by Suetonicsonic, Fall From Power by Lordius Dannius.

Hands of Creation by Namohysip, and The Curious and the Shiny by Nebula Dreams. Both of which I seriously need to pick up again.

I believe you can find all of them on FFNet.

42. List and link to 5 fanfiction authors who are amazing:

Same applies as above. Ambyssin, Suetonicsonic, Namohysip, Chibi Pika and Nebula Dreams.

43. Is there anyone in your fandom who really inspires you?

Ambyssin has provided some amazing constructive criticism on System:Reboot which has resulted in me making a terrifying antagonist out of Gadget the Wolf. I strongly hope no other antagonists will develop what I have nicknamed ‘Socket Syndrome’. His drive and commitment to his writing has been pretty inspirational, too.

But in all fairness, I think most, if not all, of my writing friends have been inspirational and very supportive. I offer digital high-fives to each and every one of you.

44. What ship do you feel needs more attention?

I can’t think of any. People should write what they like. And I believe if you want to read it, and it doesn’t exist, then you should write it yourself if you can.

45. What is your all time favourite fanfic?

Guiding Light by Ambyssin. It’s not often I fall in love with a fanfic.

Fall From Power by Lordius Dannius is another.

46. If someone was to read one of your fanfics, which fic would you recommend to them and why?

The End or The Mask Behind the Monster, because they’re pretty special to me.

47. Archive Of Our Own, Fanfiction.net or Tumblr - where do you prefer to post and why?

FFNet. I’ve been posting there for years. I’m iffy on AO3. I’ve considered posting to Tumblr, but my solution to that is to post links and artwork instead.

48. Do you leave reviews when you read fanfiction? Why/Why not?

If I feel I have something to say, I’ll post a review. I like to make sure I do so, though, and I have been known to make notes on my computer and post reviews in bulk to works posted on Serebii.

49. Do you care if people comment/reblog your writing? Why/why not?

I love comments, and I will try to respond to each one. Reblogs are totally welcome!

50. How did you get into reading and/or writing fanfiction?

I’ve been writing for many, many years. Since before I was ten years old. Pokemon likely got me into fanfiction. I can’t remember writing it for anything else prior to that cringy ‘fic I mentioned earlier (which we will never, ever talk about. Ever.)

51. Rant or Gush about one thing you love or hate in the world of fanfiction! Go!

I love the creativity behind it, especially OCs. Pokemon OCs are my favourites, particularly in PMD or Pokecentric settings. Both Sonic and Pokemon offer a lot of inspiration to create OCs as the worlds are both pretty vast. AUs and canon settings both offer massive scope for creativity. It’s seeing peoples’ headcanons and takes on the franchises that I really enjoy. Yes, I do like shipping, but a story does NOT need it to be a good story. It’s the way people tell it that matters more to me.

I know this says ‘one thing’. But I just want to make it clear, the one part of fanfiction I don’t like, is M-rated stuff. And I will not read it. It... bugs me when a ‘fic I’ve been enjoying suddenly changes its rating XD

(I do not own any of the fandoms or characters mentioned in this post) <- Nervous Nelly moment?

[popatochisssp]

Fur a Good Time, Call... 2/15

Series: Undertale, Horrortale Relationship(s): HT!Sans/Reader Chapter Warnings: none 

You work at an animal shelter. You love all your fuzzy buddies and can’t imagine a better job for yourself than looking after cats and dogs all day, even when the work is hard and often gross. What can you say? You’ve got a lot of love to give!

You’re just not quite sure yet how you feel about the new monster who’s been helping out these days, and this riddle wrapped up in an enigma is something you just can’t resist investigating…

AO3 Link

Humerus

You didn’t actually see much of Sans in the days that followed.

His schedule was really more of a non-schedule, something so freeform and seemingly random that if there was a system in place, you certainly couldn’t figure it out.

He did good work whenever he showed up, though, which was a lot more than could be said for some of the other well-meaning volunteers who ended up being more hindrance than help. You figured that whatever leniency your manager gave that let him just sort of come in whenever was probably deserved.

Of course, it was entirely possible that he was around and you were just missing him. You’d been more or less absorbed with your latest pet-project and noticing much of anything around here, even a giant skeleton in slippers, was probably asking too much of your attention span.

On the bright side, you were delighted to say that Buddy was doing great!

A quick buzz and a bath to the new stray had revealed a merle coat and stunning ice-blue eyes that the whole shelter fell in love with almost immediately. With even just a few days of regular meals his scrawny body was starting to fill out, and when his tail got to wagging and he relaxed enough to show off a winning doggy smile it was obvious to everyone that you had a handsome little man on your hands.

So far, though, it seemed that Buddy only had eyes for you.

He was okay around most people; a little shy and nervous, maybe, but he certainly hadn’t bitten or lashed out at anyone. He was just a noticeably more relaxed dog when you were somewhere he could see you.

It wasn’t much of a surprise since you had been there to calm him down that first day—you had a feeling Buddy might show a similar response to Sans—but it was clear that you’d become a safe person to him.

For that reason, it was decided that it was probably in everyone’s best interests if you were the one to handle most of his training and socialization. The bulk of your day-to-day duties was shifted around to other people for the time being and that was that: you’ve been Buddy’s best buddy ever since.

He was currently panting hard beside you, glancing up at you every few steps as if to say, ‘I did good, right?’

“Yes, Buddy, you’re a very good boy.” You gave him a quick scritch along the scruff of his neck—his favorite spot—and opened the door to let him back into the shelter. “Good first walk.”

You’d taken him around the neighborhood the long way, partly exercise and partly a test. Walks were a great way to suss out little things about a dog that were impossible to notice interacting with it just in a kennel, and you found that those details helped you write up the best adoption descriptions possible.

Buddy, for example, loved to sniff everything and had even tracked down a scent all the way to a squirrel dray up a small tree. The one floppy ear of his could be a sign he had some hound-blood in him, which was always better to write than just ‘mutt’ or ‘???’

You’d guess that he also had some feline ancestry of the scaredy-cat variety because as soon as an actual squirrel had popped out and squawked at him, Buddy had hurried away quite suddenly, pulling you along with him. Probably better for a household without other pets so the poor little wuss didn’t get harassed all day long.

“You made it, see?” you cooed, leading him back inside and tweaking his pointed ear. “Gonna get you some water and then you can lay down and catch your breath. Good boy.”

Except…maybe not?

Buddy didn’t seem to want to go back to the dog room and his kennel just yet. Even tired as he seemed to be, he was dragging you down the other hallway and sniffing along the tiled floor with focus.

“What, Buddy? You find a really good smell?” He must’ve because even a gentle tug to his leash didn’t seem to sway him from this new path, just like with the squirrel from earlier. “Okay, guess you’ll show me.”

You could probably spare a couple minutes on a detour and you were more than a bit curious to see where Buddy wanted to go.

Ending up in the laundry room shouldn’t have been much of a surprise. Especially not with a pile of unwashed bedding sitting out right there on the floor.

“Oh, no wonder, that’s a great smell.” A little grin split across your face at your own sarcasm. “Well, it is for you, I guess.”

Buddy did seem pleased by his discovery. His tail was wagging as he enthusiastically nosed through the folds of a tawny brown blanket, nudging it this way and that, and you couldn’t help but smile.

Getting to see a dog that was so scared and hurt barely more than a week ago start to get better; a sweet, silly boy like this having some fun snuffling around in a dirty quilt….

This was why you loved your job.

When Buddy’s tail went still, though, you paused. “What? What is it?”

Obviously, he didn’t answer you so you moved a little closer to the laundry pile, trying to see for yourself. Hiding there in the earth-toned pile, beneath Buddy’s pointing muzzle was a surprising splash of color.

You reached for it and picked it up. Even as Buddy’s tail started to wag again—‘See? Look what I found!’—you tilted your head in confusion.

The thing was…a rock.

Blue-green in color and very rough to the touch, it glinted a little in the light when you turned it in your hand but otherwise seemed to just be a big hunk of stone. Sitting in the dog blankets. Where rocks…usually weren’t?

“What the hell.”

“oh, that’s mine.”

You whirled around and who should be standing there but Sans, huge and looming and having made absolutely no sound with his arrival, like always. You blamed the sudden adrenaline spike for what you blurted out next.

“Shit, you’re quiet, has anyone ever told you that you should wear a bell?”

It seemed like you’d surprised him with that. The upper ridges of his oddly malleable eye-sockets raised up and his red pupil shrunk from its normal size. He stared at you long enough for you to realize what you’d just said and stars above, was ‘rude’ your default setting?!

“God, I’m sorry, that was—”

A snort cut you off, followed by a full-on chuckle.

“a bell?” Sans echoed, his grin seeming to stretch wider across his skull. “heheheheh… no, that’s a new one. not sure i get the appeal.”

You almost started to apologize again before you caught the emphasis. That was a joke! He must not be too offended by your lack of manners if he was joking with you.

You laughed a little instead and watched Sans perk up, his eye-light dilating back to normal.

“maybe it does, uh… ring a little true,” he admitted. “did i scare ya’?”

“Oh…heh, maybe a little….” You looked down to see that Buddy had fully abandoned the blanket and was now vigorously sniffing at Sans’ feet and legs and everything clicked. “Oh! He smelled you! That’s why he dragged me in here.”

“hm?” Sans looked down too and recognition flashed across his face. “oh, hey, pal,” he greeted, bending to scratch at Buddy’s ears. “ya look good.”

So far, Buddy hadn’t really liked it when hands got near his face. He’d let you do it, though—you and apparently Sans, who Buddy was totally fine with while he sniffed the ever-living hell out of Sans’ sleeve.

“you found my rock, huh? good job, i been lookin’ for that.”

Right! You held out the chunk of stone in offering. “Here,” you said. “It was under that blanket, I guess you must’ve dropped it.”

Sans straightened and took the rock back from you. What completely filled your hand settled neatly in his palm and his smile turned a little sheepish. “nah, it was in my pocket. but, uh…” He pinched the bottom of his hoodie, highlighting the pocket that the very dog who now came up to smell it had bitten through on his first day here. “i tried to stitch it and called it good, but i guess not so much.”

The rock had some serious heft to it when you held it. You didn’t doubt that it would test a rushed repair-stitch to the breaking point, but… “Why didn’t you just put it in your other pocket?”

“and squish my ketchup?”

“……what?”

Sans seemed happy to show you. He swapped his rock to the other hand and scooped out…god, what had to be at least two dozen little ketchup packets from his pocket.

“don’t always have a rock,” he told you, as if he were actually explaining something, “but i always got these. they were here first.”

The absurdity of the situation hit you all at once. You were standing in a laundry room, holding a dog who was still smelling everything while a skeleton two heads taller than you was very soberly justifying why a condiment collection had seniority over a rock in regards to pocket-storage.

You thought bursting out laughing was completely appropriate.

“Pfft, what the fuck,” you said through helpless giggles. “Why do you have those? Why do you have either of those things? Oh my god…”

Far from offended, Sans looked delighted by your laughter. “i like ketchup,” he said with an easy shrug, putting the packets away. “as for this…” Sans paused a moment to look at the stone in his hand. He almost seemed to be debating something with himself. “well, i, uh… i’m actually…a little bit of a geologist? so i like rocks.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “What, seriously?”

“yeah. helped out with the CORE a little, back… back Underground.”

The CORE—a technical marvel of geothermal energy production and totally unrivaled by anything manmade so far. According to the news, it had provided heat and light to the trapped monsters even when they had literally nothing else, and top scientists were still studying it trying to replicate its function. It was slow-going research because according to the former monster Queen, everyone who’d built it was dust and gone.

Obviously not entirely true.

“You’re kidding,” you breathed. “That’s amazing.”

Sans just rubbed the back of his neck. “mmm… wore a lotta hats back then. ‘jack of all trades,’ y’know? not into the other technical bits so much anymore, but i still like the geology stuff.” He cracked an awkward smile at you as he added, “it rocks.”

You laughed and watched the tension leave his shoulders. You realize pretty quickly that you may have found the key to befriending Sans that’s been eluding you all this time: he’s volunteered more (completely fascinating) information about himself in the past few minutes than anyone else had learned in weeks, and it all started when you laughed at his jokes.

That certainly wasn’t hard to do. Sans was a funny guy when you actually got him talking and you found yourself really not wanting it to stop.

A glance at Buddy down by your feet and then the clock up on the wall—early afternoon—and you had your idea.

Impulsively and before you could lose the confidence, you say, “Hey, so… I was gonna go get Buddy settled and then head out for lunch. Would you…want to come? The place I usually go to is close by and I’d be happy to treat.”

You’d clearly caught Sans by surprise again. “……really? why?”

You didn’t quite get his confusion but, “Well… I kinda feel like I should get to know you.” You fussed a little with the leash in your hands, trying to spend your nervous energy. “I mean, you’ve been here for how long and I’m only now finding out you’re funny? That’s crazy. Plus I’m going anyway, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to, that’s totally fine, I just thought….” You didn’t know what you thought and you realized you were on the verge of rambling so you let the sentence trail off.

The offer was out there, you’d made the attempt. That was something to be proud of, even if he said no!

“…i dunno,” Sans said eventually and you bit back a sigh of disappointment. “see, i did just lose my apatite.”

“That’s okay, I—…”

The emphasis. You stared at the rock in Sans’ hand, which he helpfully waggled when he caught you looking.

“……is that. Is that actually apatite?”

Sans looked like he was bursting to tell you, grinning with eager anticipation. “yeah.”

“……”

This time when you completely lost it laughing, Sans joined you with a quiet chuckle that had you covering your face and shaking your head.

“Oh my god, did you plan this? Did you set this up somehow, just for that joke?” you demanded.

Sans snorted but shook his head, “nah, happy accident, i swear. probably the happiest accident of my life, though, that was perfect.”

Still smiling, you looked up at him. “So, lunch, then? Yea or nay?”

“hell, i don’t turn down free food. sure. just gotta put this in,” he nudged the laundry pile with his slipper, “and drop my rock off at home where it’s less funny. lobby in fifteen?”

You blinked in surprise. “You live that close?”

Sans made a face and gave you a so-so motion with his hand. “but,” he winked, “i do know a shortcut.”

And then he was gone again, just like before.

Buddy visibly startled, jumping back up from where he’d been sitting (like a good boy!) and whipping his head around to you, like you could somehow explain to this animal that didn’t speak your language all the nuances of an apparently teleport-capable skeleton.

“I don’t know, man,” you told the poor dog, “I’m in the same boat as you. Let’s just get you that water, okay?”

Buddy actually let you lead him all the way to his kennel this time. He lapped up half of the water you put in his bowl and then padded straight over to his cot where he plopped down with a big, dramatic sigh.

“Yeah, yeah, your life is so hard,” you teased, which Buddy seemed utterly indifferent to so you left him where he was and went to go clock out for lunch.

-

True to his word, Sans was waiting for you when you got to the lobby, greeting you with a crooked grin and an awkward wave.

You mentally laughed at yourself for ever having thought this guy was scary when it seemed like everything he did just proved what a total goober he was.

“You ready to go?” you asked him. “Any last minute jokes you want to get out before we leave? Sight-gags? Puns?”

“heheheheheh… jeez, we haven’t even hung out yet and ya already got me pegged.”

“Am I wrong?”

“nope,” he freely told you. “i was tryin’ to think of somethin’ but ya showed up too early. i’ll let ya know if i come up with anything on the way over.”

And with that, the two of you headed out the door into the lovely, sunshiny day.

The weather was great and you made some small talk about that before telling Sans a bit about the place you were going—a little cheap and a little dive-y, but it was close to work and the food was good so you went there pretty much all the time.

Sans nodded and ‘hmm’ed in all the right spots but you got the slight sense that he wasn’t fully paying attention to you. His eye-light kept casting up to the sky; the endless expanse of azure blotted with fluffy white clouds floating past on the breeze.

You couldn’t bring yourself to be offended by Sans’ distraction. Stars only knew how long he’d spent thinking he’d never get to see a sight like that.

His focus immediately switched back to you again once there was a roof over your heads and he watched you peruse the short menu on the wall. “know what you’re getting?”

“Yep. I’ve got a usual,” you told him, “I think I’ll stick with that. You?”

He looked at the menu himself, processing it for a minute before shrugging. “eh. i’m not picky. anything you’d recommend?”

You turned to face him fully, looking him up and down. Feeling unaccountably playful, you asked, “Trust me to order for you?”

He just eyed you, half-puzzled and half-amused. “sure? knock yourself out, i guess.”

Decision made, you went up to the counter and ordered your usual, “And a triple bacon cheeseburger with everything on it, fries for the side.”

You paid and got your order ticket and went back off to the side to wait…where Sans was unabashedly staring at you in awe.

“how did you know?” he asked. “triple isn’t even up there.”

You were probably radiating the smuggest aura right now, but you couldn’t help it. “I told you I come here a lot. The chef is cool, he doesn’t mind throwing an extra patty on there if you ask for it. You’re a pretty big guy, I figured a double might not cut it.”

“and the rest of it?”

“Anybody who carries around as much ketchup as you do is basically guaranteed to be a garbage disposal when it comes to food. No offense,” you added quickly, though you didn’t entirely think Sans would take offense to that. “That, plus you’ve got a pretty big grease stain on your shirt, so….”

Sans looked at the stain and then at you before starting to snicker at himself. “oh my god, you really do got me pegged. you’re not gonna sherlock me the whole time, are ya?”

“I’ll try to refrain,” you offered magnanimously and then sent him off to fill up your drink cups at the machine over on the wall while you stayed to wait for the food.

It didn’t take long for your number to be called and you settled your tray down at a booth Sans had scoped out for you. You found that it was only a little surreal for you to be at your favorite eatery, sitting across from a skeleton that you happened to work with.

After a few more words of small talk about the food—so good, probably in the Top Five of all the burgs he’s ever had, great pick— you find you’ve gathered enough courage to start the social part of the outing.

“So,” you say lightly, picking at your meal, “the CORE. That’s some pretty groundbreaking stuff.” Sans huffs a tiny laugh at the pun. “I kinda gotta ask why a guy like you is at an animal shelter, of all places.”

“mostly this,” he says, reaching up to knock his knuckles against his skull, right next to the broken part of it. “see, i guess when half your head caves in, that makes it start workin’ different than it used to.”

The candid answer sobers you quickly. “Oh.”

“yeah. takes me a little longer to work stuff out than it used to. i forget things easier. got a fun little issue where i just sorta fall asleep sometimes. i got some human medication for it that helps, but it still happens. i’m sure you’ve noticed it.”

You…have.

In the time Sans has been at the shelter, he’s almost always had a follow-up question on a task he’d been given, or needed another run-through on a procedure he’d already been shown.

You hadn’t seen it yourself, but you’d once heard a couple volunteers chuckling good-naturedly near the coffee pot in the break area and saying they should bring a mug to the stock room for Sans; the poor guy must’ve had a late night if he’d passed out halfway through doing inventory.

“Yeah,” you admit, feeling…very guilty all of a sudden. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. That’s…pretty personal…”

But Sans shakes his head. “nah, don’t be sorry,” he says. “i just like havin’ my cards on the table. i’d be a liability workin’ in some lab with my head the way it is, for sure, but i was outta the science game long before it even happened. it ain’t as tragic as all that.”

“No?”

“nah. i’ve done a bunch of different stuff since then and none of it had anything to do with my degrees.”

You almost asked about that—degrees, plural—but you find yourself more curious about the other jobs he’s tried. He’d called himself a jack of all trades earlier and you wonder just how much that covered.

As it turns out, it covered quite a lot. In between bites of his burger, you get Sans to tell you all about the times he sold concert tickets, rented out a telescope, and ran an illegitimate (?!) hot dog stand.

(You don’t ask what he did during the famine. Even you know it’s a faux pas of the highest order to ask a monster about the famine.)

“i think my favorite was the comedy routine,” Sans says eventually. “had a little time-slot at a fancy resort every other week. that was a lotta fun.”

“I am not even a little surprised you were a comedian,” you say flatly, but with enough of a teasing note in your voice that you see him smile. “Is that something you wanted to get back into?”

“mmm…probably not?” He picks at his ketchup-drenched fries a little. “it’d be nice, maybe, but i dunno if i trust myself to be up on stage for a whole set, these days. nothin’ sadder than live reruns.”

You blurt it without thinking. “The things you take for granite, I guess.”

He’s quiet for just a bit and you worry you may have overstepped there…but a second later he bursts out laughing. The sound is deep and genuine, so much more than his understated little chuckle and you couldn’t have been prouder to be the cause of it.

When he finally looks at you, you swear that the red light of his eye is sparkling. “oh man, good one. hope I remember that, Pap’ll hate it.”

“Pap?”

And you thought you’d found Sans’ conversation button before.

It turned out that jokes were only the second best way to get Sans talking; the best was his brother, Papyrus.

You’d had no idea a skeleton could look so animated until you had Sans smiling, gesturing, practically vibrating with pride across from you as he told you all about his sibling.

Papyrus is the coolest guy ever, athletic and smart and so organized Sans can hardly believe it. He used to be a bit of a chef, but lately he’s had more of a budding (heheh) interest in gardening and their yard looks so colorful now, it’s crazy. He’s also studying to be a nurse and working part-time at one of those big home improvement stores until then.

“we get that money from the human government, y’know,” Sans points out. “we both do, so it’s not like he even has to work? we could coast awhile on what we got and be fine, but Papyrus goes out first thing and picks up a job ‘cause he likes to be productive, and then he starts going to school for an even harder job just ‘cause he wants to help people.” Sans is positively beaming at you. “isn’t my brother cool?”

Well, of course. That should go without saying, but you can’t help but think of Sans, too; how he volunteers at the shelter, spending his unpaid time doing hard, dirty work to help fuzzy people that can’t even thank him.

“It seems like it runs in the family,” you say sincerely.

Like most of the times so far you’ve said something he didn’t expect, Sans needs a couple extra seconds to process it. When he realizes what you said, though, the most curious thing happens.

The light of his eye is a vibrant cherry-red… but the color that spreads impossibly across his cheekbones is a soft gray-blue, like slate or steel.

You can’t help but find it… bizarrely pretty.

“eheheheheh…” His nervous laugh is almost as nice as his normal one, though it does make you want to pat his hand a little and tell him it’s okay. When he immediately changes the subject in the least subtle way possible, you have enough mercy to let him. “so, uh. what about you? what’s your story? why the shelter?”

“Sorry to say I don’t have much of a story. Well,” you amend, “not an interesting one, anyway. I, uh, I’ve always liked animals and I kinda knew from the start that I wanted to work with them, so… it’s pretty much just always been this, for me.” You look down and fiddle with the straw of your empty drink, and laugh, “I’m nothing special, really.”

You immediately wonder if maybe that was a little too self-deprecating. You can feel Sans looking at you and try to decide if you should go for an unsubtle subject change yourself or just wait to see what he says.

You're more than a little relieved when Sans makes the decision for you.

“well……i wouldn’t terrierself up about it. you seem like somebody with a lot of petential.”

Your laugh that time is totally genuine, surprised out of you. You look back up, grinning, and can’t quite resist a pun of your own. “Are you fur real, right now?”

But of course, there’s no out-punning the master. “i’m pawsitive.”

You both dissolved into giggles like you were two middle-school girls instead of the grown (maybe not so) mature adults you were.

-

Eventually you both finished your food and it was time to go. Sans had that load of laundry to finish and you wanted to do some more clicker-training with Buddy—you were sure you could teach him to shake and you weren’t giving that up without a fight!—so you headed out for the short walk back to work.

The trip over is quiet, but companionable and it isn't long into it before you find yourself chasing another crazy impulse.

“So… do you want to exchange numbers?” You feel awkward even asking. It’s maybe only the third or fourth time in your entire life that you’ve been the one to ask for a person’s number, but, “This was fun and I don’t really have anybody at work to go to lunch with. It’d be cool to…keep in touch?”

Sans scratched at his cheek. “guess you’d want me to pay for my own food next time, huh?” He made a show of considering this, which made you snicker. “don’t suppose you’d consider lettin’ me open a tab? i’m good for it, i swear.”

“Why do I doubt that so much?”

“careful, now, these completely accurate judgments of my character are gonna start hurtin’ my feelings.”

You rolled your eyes with obvious amusement, much to Sans’ apparent pleasure.

“i’m kiddin’, i’m kiddin’, that sounds great. i don’t have a lunch-pal, either.”

You go to get out your phone for him to put his number in, but he’s faster—possibly because it looks like he had his in his ketchup-pocket. He hands it to you unlocked, with the messages screen pulled up.

“just text yourself, it’s easier.”

You do, keying in your number and sending a skull emoji to yourself. You felt the answering buzz of your own phone a moment later but paid it no mind, trying to think of a good name to put yourself under in his contacts.

Your actual name would be boring, but you didn’t want to pick something too out there just in case Sans would look at it later and have no idea who you were supposed to be.

It wasn’t long before you got it. You happily typed, ‘Good@Dogs’ next to your number and saved the contact. You’d have to think of something fun to put Sans as later.

This would be good! It had been a long time since you had a work-friend…or really any kind of friend…and it would be nice to have somebody to go to lunch with sometimes, and to send funny memes to. You had a feeling Sans would appreciate memes.

Plus, maybe you could meet up for other stuff outside of work, like if a cool movie came out or something. You might even get to meet the infamous Papyrus at some point!

There were so many good reasons to have Sans’ number and absolutely none of them were that he was a total sweetheart of a skeleton that seemed to get cuter every time you spoke.

You ignore that thought and go to hand Sans’ phone back, only to pause.

In the minute or so since you’d stopped talking, Sans had gotten distracted by the sky again. He was just standing there on the sidewalk, watching the clouds and soaking up a sunbeam with the corners of his eye-sockets crinkled just so.

Sans suddenly looked like the biggest, boniest cat you’d ever seen, lazing in the sunlight on the verge of a nap. It wouldn’t have surprised you one bit if he started purring and it made you feel….

You cleared your throat. “Sans? Your phone.”

“huh?” His focus turned back to you and the phone you held out to him and the moment was gone. “oh yeah, thanks.”

He took his phone back and you were on your way again.

Oh, no. Sans wasn’t cute at all.

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[winterlinggg]

Studyblr Tag!

GENERAL

What country are you studying in now? Eau Claire, America

What’s your major or specialization? Paralegal (Criminal Law)

What year are you in? First year of Paralegal, sixth year of college

What courses are you taking (/will be taking if on break)? Paralegal & Law Ethics, Civil Litigation, Legal Research, Economics, American Government

Favorite course? I loved my Web Design course and Cultures in Conflict courses at University

What languages do you know? Want to learn? English, Sarcasm, HTML/CSS

What language do you study in? Do you think in a different language? English, and nope!

Career aspiration? Paralegal for the District Attorney’s Office, and legal advocate for victims of stalking, especially in states whose laws offer perpetrators too many advantages via grey area and loopholes.

If you couldn’t be #8, what would you be? A web designer and developer

Moment you knew what you wanted to do? After I was stalked by a police officer who used work equipment, resources, databases and coworkers to stalk me. It is not legally considered stalking in Oregon (where it happened), but it is in my current state of Wisconsin.

STUDY ENVIRONMENT

Where is your favorite place to study? My computer, which has three 43″ monitors on top of an actual conference table. It’s nice for spreading out on.

When is your favorite time to study? My favorite is late night studying, between the hours of 10pm to 7 or 8am.

Clean desk or organized mess? Clean desk!!

Music or no music? What type? If I listen to music, it has to be lyric-less music because I get too distracted by the words. 

Name top 3 worst distractions. Twitter, my boyfriend (who I live with), and YouTube 

Exam time, dress up or dress down? Dress down, because I like to be super comfortable in otherwise stressful exams. 

Exam time, hair up or hair down? Hair up and out of my face. When I’m hyper-focused, the tickle of my hair gets extra annoying. 

Favorite outfit for studying? Honestly, just undies and a tee-shirt

Favourite study scent? Always flowers, specifically jasmine, gardenia, or honeysuckle.

STUDY TOOLS

Name 5 things you would consider your ‘study essentials’. I would say my Pentel side-click pencil, my color-designated Staedtler pens, my midliners, and notecards. 

Hardcopy books or pdf online? HARDCOVER - I don’t know what it is but I cannot stand e-textbooks or typing up my notes (despite the fact that I was a computer science major. There’s something special about highlighting an actual book and writing notes down. I feel like you get to spend more time with the material. 

Favorite study snack? drink? White Chocolate Macadamia Nut Cliff Bar and coffee.

Favorite pen (or pencil)? Pentel Side-click mechanical pencil - I cant stand back-clicks because it makes me change my grip on the pencil every time.

Favorite notebook/paper? I’d like to explore more notebooks, like the leuchtturm1917 but I’ve been a Five Star notebook buyer since grade school. Maybe next semester. 

Name 5 apps/tools that help you be productive. GoogleDrive, FamCal (my boyfriend and I’s synced calendar), the recorder app on my phone so I can listen back to lectures... I don’t know, I use paper more than apps. 

How many pens/pencils/markers are in your pencil case? 2 pencils, 1 pen, 8 Staedtler pens, 8 midliner highlighters.

Backpack or purse? Backpack, but a messenger bag.

How many notebooks do you have? Five notebooks (one for each class), and one leather portfolio with a legal pad for my volunteer position with the DA’s office. 

STUDY HABITS

How do you motivate yourself when you’re not motivated? When I’m not motivated, it’s typically because I’m too anxious. So I’ll take a break, take a bath, have a snack, declutter my desk, and that typically does the trick.

Pump up routine before writing an exam? run through notecards, listen to metal music tbh (I know it’s an unpopular genre but it gets your blood going).

Crammer or pacer? For assignments and general studying, I’m a pacer, and for papers I am a crammer ~ but not a day-before crammer kind of way, just in a I’m-on-a-roll kind of way.

Type of learner (kinesthetic, auditory, visual)? Kinesthetic in the sense that if I don’t physically write it out, I am less likely to remember it. It forces me to take my time with each definition/equation/theory. Then visual in the sense that, when I’m taking a test, I visualize exactly where on what page that information is written on.

How do you plan? (digital, planner, lists, no plan, etc.) Depends. Generally speaking, for my day, I use FamCal which syncs my boyfriend and I’s calendars together. For studying, like which order I’m going to read chapters/start essays/etc, I use notcard to-do lists. 

Preferred note-taking method? The outline method, although I am going to attempt the Cornell method this semester.

Do you make to-do lists? How? Yes, religiously. I go class by class, starting with the lightest homework first. For example I’ll start with readings for class A, followed by the online quiz for class B, then begin the rough draft for my paper in class C.

Do you stick to your to-do lists? Yes, about 90% of the time. If I don’t then it’s because it’s for the heavier homework like a rough draft paper in class C, in which case it’s me not following my to-do list because I’m taking a break and finishing later.

Group study or independent study? Independent is good for when I’m in a hyper-focused study session, but groups are really good at motivating me because I’m competitive I want to be the most productive one there. 

Average number of hours of sleep during exam time? Probably 8? I have to sleep more than the average person - I’ve been that way my whole life (it’s not a laziness thing). I typically sleep 10 hours or so, and have difficultly sleeping from the anxiousness of the upcoming test.

Ever pulled an all-nighter? Back when my PTSD was really bad I could never sleep at night, so I’d begin studying at 10pm and go to bed at 7 or 8 when dawn starts peeking through my blinds. So I used to be an exclusive “all-nighter”

STUDY MENTALITY

What do you do to recover from getting a grade lower than expected? I figure out where the hell I went wrong. Did the test come from the textbook instead of class notes? Did I focus more on general theories or ideas instead of the specifics like when and where or vice-versa?

One advice you’d give others? There is more than one way to get to where you want to go. I did a lot more writing of papers than weekly assignments in university. For papers, my best advice is to tailor the paper to what the teacher would like for optimal grading leniency. For example, in my Anthropology 380 course ‘Cultures in Conflict,’ I had to write about two cultures that struggled when they met. I may have enjoyed writing about a culture clash such as native amazonian tribes who are expected to stay “primitive” to satisfy the curiosities of american tourism, but I knew my teacher was into anime. So, I wrote my 20 page paper on “The Proliferation of Japanese Anime in American Pop Culture.” I got 110% on that paper (there were XC opportunities for that paper which I took, but I ALSO wasn’t graded down for ANYTHING because she loved the topic so much), and because it counted for so much of my grade, I ended that semester with 104% overall in that class. 

What are you most proud of right now? Honestly, my desk. I took so much time on setting it up exactly the way I like it, and it’s so big and aesthetically pleasing that it’s EASY to WANT to study. 

Favorite quote to keep you going? Someone somewhere is having a worse day than you. (So even if I don’t want to get up at 7:00am, I should appreciate that it’s my biggest struggle today)

Favorite way to destress? A BATH WITH A LUSH BATH BOMB

OTHER

Favorite 5 studyblrs? I can’t think of them all now, but I will make another post of people that pump out the type of content that made me love Studyblrs in the first place soon.

How often do you check Tumblr? 2x-3x a day?

Hobbies when you’re not studying? Playing video games (overwatch), taking care of my succulent garden (I easily have over 100), and watching political/social commentary on YouTube.

Favorite compulsory-reading book? Suspense/Crime books. I just Finished ‘Women in the Window’ which I read all in one day.

First nerdy joke that pops into your head. There are 10 types of people in this world: those who understand binary, and those who don’t.