#cause sometimes the script in my head supplies a rude comment

[babybluesquid]

I strongly relate to Murderbot because I too have a buffer that automatically kicks in during conversations sometimes when I’m having trouble thinking of what to say next or am mentally attending to other concerns and says things I don’t mean.

[ejzah]

A/N: @mashmaiden not only kindly reminded me that today is Marty Atticus Deeks’ birthday, but also supplied the scenario.

***

Mailed With Love

“Ooh, Deeks got mail!” Charlie called across the common room as Deeks sat down with a small mound of packages he’d picked up from the main lobby. He peered over his shoulder as Deeks slid the ribbon off a small white box with a blue label on the top. The words had been partially obscured so all he could read was, “Nut Con”.

Hopefully it wasn’t a gag gift from Eric. He’d already sent Deeks a Star Wars themed email card-something he hadn’t realized still existed. It was a lucky thing no one had been around at the time to hear the blaring John Williams’ theme. Deeks appreciated the intent, if not the actual card.

“If it’s anything edible, you have to share,” Jake added, joining Charlie to crowd around Deeks. “Homemade desserts are the best.”

“Ok, I’m pretty sure you just made that up,” Deeks said, shaking his head, oddly amused. He’d been prepared to mope around for his birthday, but his classmates hadn’t allowed that. Just like every day since he’d been at FLETC, they sought him out for a variety of reasons. Sometimes for help, sometimes to chat, and often just to hang out.

“It’s a well established rule. It’s just plain rude not to share.”

“You sound remarkably like my wife.” Deeks flicked a gaze at Jake. “But don’t get your hopes up because baking is not her hobby of choice and my mom doesn’t have this address. Thank god, cause that would be a disaster.

“Leave him alone, guys,” Omar said, but couldn’t seem to stop himself from joining the little group.

He pulled opened the box finally, raising an eyebrow at the single, sugar dusted cronut inside, laying on a nest of tissue paper. There was a small card tucked inside and he plucked it out with his thumb and index finger.

“Happy Birthday, Babe. Enjoy your pastry baby. Love, Kensi,” was written in a elegant script. He looked back down at the fried pastry, feeling his throat tighten a little.

“Huh, I was expecting something a little more substantial,” Jake commented.

“Oh man, you shoulda told us it was your birthday,” Charlie said ignoring Jake and knocking Deeks’ shoulder. “We would have bought you a cake.”

“It’s really not a big deal,” Deeks insisted.

“Sure it is. All birthdays are important. How old are you again?”

“Definitely not answering that question.”

“How else are we going to know how many candles to put on the cake?” Jake asked reasonably.

“Eh, I’m pretty sure at Deeks’ age they stop counting and just use those number ones.” Deeks laughed despite himself.

“You guys are hilarious,” he said, shaking his head. “Still not telling you.”

“I bet with enough time we can get it out of you,” Charlie decided, trying to look menacing. His slight baby face, despite his valiant effort to grow some facial hair, made it all the more ridiculous.

“I think you’re forgetting that I’m married to a woman who has made marines cry and the rest of my team is just as insane. I will not break.”

“I thought we were friends man,” Jake said, shaking his head in apparent disappointment.

“I just need to know, what’s a pastry baby?” Omar asked with a raised eyebrow, looking vaguely disturbed.

“Mm, it’s part of a love story,” Deeks murmured with a smile. He slipped the card back into the box and carefully closed it. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Where are you going?” Deeks grinned.

“I got a call to make.”

[haiky-u-lously]

Telemarketer Love--part 2

Once Again!

Reader/Bokuto Koutaru

A/N: Reader is a telemarketer for a company legit called Volleyball Monthly. Except Volleyball monthly exists as a sub-division of a different volleyball apparel company. On your 10th birthday, somewhere on your body, there is a permanent etching of the first sentences your soulmate says to you. Please enjoy this two part story as a present for @twirlergirl1206 as an apology for a lack of reciprocation during an event I planned and poorly executed. I hope you can enjoy this little story and again, I apologize luv. As always, likes/questions/comments/suggestions are always welcome and appreciated (:

 Find part 1 there! It is necessary in order to understand part 2!!

(read part 1 first you crazy people!!!)

Chapter 2-But so are you.

 “Well, that was rude.” You said more to yourself than anything else.

 Unfortunately, your coworker mistook it as a comment sent their way. “Sorry? What was that (Y/N)?”

 “Oh nothing new. Just still getting used to people hanging up mid-first sentence is all.” You explained.

 “Yea, it takes a while. But, you’ve been doing great so far this week. I wouldn’t worry to much about it. Besides this is only a part time gig for you right? Aren’t you also doing that radio gig downtown? How’s that going?” They asked.

 You appreciate this coworker, even if they were a bit intrusive sometimes, so you decided to indulge a bit and answer their questions honestly. “Yea, it is a part time position for me, but I’m not sure, still guessed I should take it seriously like you all do, right? But yea, no that gig is great. The station actually just decided to let me do a late night show over the holiday as extra practice in reaching different types of audiences. I’m really looking forward to it.”

 The pair of you discussed some more with relative ease, before the new list of numbers to call was emailed out. You had appreciate the way this company ran its telemarketing when you received calls as a customer and were happy to be able to follow the bosses guides in making your own.

 Each hour a random list of 15 phone numbers was sent out to everyone in the office and you then had an hour to call each one before a new list would be sent out. You liked this because if callers dropped you like the one you had last just now, then you didn’t have to get rejected forty-something times in a row, but had a time to calm down before interacting with a different customer. And since customers are only supposed to be called if they clicked the box that they wanted to be contacted by the sales’ reps, it was even less likely that people would so rudely hang up like the one who had just flat out refused you.

 Dialing the first number on the new list, you felt a relaxing smile cross your features. You knew for a fact that the customer on the other end of the phone could not see you, but it just always seemed to feel right to you.

 “Dear customer, hello. I am calling on behalf of Volleyball Monthly Magazine. We noticed that you have purchased some items online through our mother company Volleyball is Life. As per your request, we are calling to see if you are interested in joining in our magazine subscription, or to further our customer/retailer relationship and give us any feedback on the products you recently purchased.”

 Every call for the rest of the evening went smoothly. You only had one other customer interrupt your spiel, and they just asked if you could call back in a couple weeks as they were dealing with some personal issues. Which of course you were more than sympathetic towards. Made a quick note about the situation on the contact’s file and finished your work for the evening.

 You had just finished your last call of the shift, and were preparing to make a quick exit to go work on some personal projects back home when your coworker leaned over the separator with a weird expression across their face.

 “(Y/N), I have a guy on the phone here who says he has to talk to the person who had called him last. The file says that was you. Umm” They drag on before putting their hand over the speaker part of the landline telephone, “You didn’t turn this into one of those types of calling centers…did you?”

 You rolled your eyes at their suggestive comment and very plainly said, “Wow, get your mind out of the gutter. No, I didn’t. Who would ask to speak to a specific telemarketer anyway? That’s why we never give our names.”

 “Ah. Good point there. Hang on.” They disappeared behind their cubical for a minute.

 Sitting back in your chair, you wondered what the caller could have wanted. You knew none of your calls the past few days had ended poorly on the customers end, and you hadn’t left any callers’ questions unanswered.

 When your coworker screamed and jumped away from their desk, flinging the corded phone towards the table, your interest was even more peaked.

 Giving them the side-eye, you rolled your chair over to reach their phone and picked it up, “Hello, sir. I am the person who called you last. Did I leave a question of yours unanswered?”

 “I love you. Marry me!” The excited voice practically screamed into your ear. Not a split second later the words of your soulmate, the dark scripted tattoo that had appeared as soon as your physical age reached double digits, the words started to full like they were burning beneath your clothes.

 “Well. This is definitely a surprise. Why is my soulmate exclaiming this when we haven’t even officially met?” You snarking-ly countered.

 The voice laughed what sounded like a head thrown back, ear splitting grin inducing cackle. They sobered up quickly though, and very seriously commented, “I apologize for hanging up on you earlier. I swear it will not ever be a common occurrence, soulmate.”

 Now, it was your turn to laugh out loud. As you calmed yourself to mere giggles, you looked into the caller’s folder your coworker had still pulled up on their desktop. “Hmm, it says hear your name is Bokuto Koutarou. You played volleyball all through middle school and high school and were a nationally ranked hitter. Wow! Congratulations sir. That’s quite an accomplishment. You traveled around a bit after graduating high school and are now playing for a different team, though you still take it super seriously because every month you buy from one of our sister companies. Huh. Who would’ve guessed that my semi-new job would teach me so much, let-alone introduce me to my own soulmate.”

 Your coworker stood behind you, a sweet smile on their face. They shook their hand and reached around you to grab their keys, making a quick exit and leaving you to continue talking to your newly found other half.

 “Well, now hey hey hey. That isn’t too fair. You already know so much about me and I don’t even get a name?” They voice seemingly pouted.

 Smiling into the phone you realized you were already falling for the male on the other end of the phone, “(Y/N). (Y/N) (L/N).” You supplied, ready to answer any questions this cavity causing voice may ask you.

[builder051]

Hildur and Pierce Character Descriptions (New OCs--with PICTURES!)

@j-andesine did these wonderful sketches!

I have stories for these guys coming soon.  Expect 3-ish installments.

Hildur and Pierce Character Descriptions

Hildur and Pierce are a pair of awkward artists who are taking their relationship from student/teacher to something more.  Because Hildur’s a part-time continuing ed student in Pierce’s class, their budding romance isn’t as illicit as it seems.  With both parties suffering from serious anxiety, they’re learning to express love in many forms.

Hildur Gorisdottir

Physical appearance:  Hildur is 29 years old, 5’5” tall, and has an in-between body type that tends toward fit, but is soft and rounded in some areas (maybe around US size 8-10).  She’s not especially curvy, but holds weight in her hips and thighs.  Her heritage is Icelandic, and Hildur naturally has sandy blonde hair (long and slightly curly), blue-green eyes, and light skin.  She has dark blonde eyebrows and slightly rosy cheeks.  Hildur suffers from “disappearing sickness,” which causes her physical body to grow paler and paler until it becomes translucent and vanishes from sight.  This is directly related to anxiety, so it’s not uncommon to see Hildur with white-blonde or silver hair, especially pale skin, and blue to clear-tinged lips and fingernails.  When she’s calm and happy, Hildur has more color to her hair and skin.

Clothing and style:  Hildur’s a homebody, and she goes for comfy clothes like jeans or leggings with sweatshirts or knit sweaters.  She prefers slip-on shoes like Birkenstock clogs or loafers.  As an artist, Hildur has a good stash of “paint clothes” like old t-shirts and aprons.  She’s pretty fastidious about changing out of them before she goes out in public, though.

Personality and likes/dislikes:  Hildur is a freelance artist.  She works from home, producing pieces of art for advertisements, book illustrations, etc.  She wants to broaden her horizons by taking some painting classes at the university (as a continuing ed student, she already has a degree), but the social aspect is challenging.  Hildur’s sweet, but shy.  She’s painfully embarrassed about her disappearing sickness, and this increases her social anxiety, which then increases her disappearing symptoms.  She prefers not to talk to people about her affliction, which leads to her avoiding most social interactions.  She’s a bit pessimistic, especially about her anxiety and artistic talent.  Hildur spends a lot of her time on art, but she also enjoys reading and music (classical and jazz are her favorites).  She’s a bit of an old soul, and she prefers more tangible things like physical books and records to technology.

Illness and caretaking behavior:  She doesn’t get out much, so Hildur doesn’t pick up a lot of contagious bugs.  However, because of this, her immune system isn’t particularly strong.  If she’s sick, she’ll try to keep her routine up as much as possible, putzing around her apartment and trying to work.  She’ll take meds and sleep and eat chicken noodle soup, but will never run out to buy supplies if she runs out of sick-needs.  The disappearing sickness tends to be worse when she’s physically ill.  As a caretaker, Hildur has almost no experience, but she’ll gladly sit silently and be a comforting presence.

A note on the disappearing sickness:  This is my first attempt at bringing in any sort of sci fi or fantasy element into my original stories.  I think of the affliction as a bit like albinism--it’s a rare hereditary condition that is diagnosable and manifests in physical appearance.  The condition can manifest at any point in a person’s life.  Hildur’s began when she was a pre-teen.  The condition is not curable, though reducing anxiety helps ease the symptoms.  Though there are a decent handful of people worldwide with the disappearing sickness, many people who don’t have it have never heard of it, and some of them are very taken aback when they see someone with the affliction.  Hildur’s experienced some bullying and rude comments, and that’s one reason why she’s quite embarrassed about it.

Pierce Peabody

Physical appearance:  Pierce is 40.  He’s about 5’10” and very slim.  He’s quite average-looking with greying light brown hair that’s short and sometimes untidy, blue eyes, and a long thin nose. He wears rimless glasses.

Clothing and style:  Pierce usually wears professional-style clothing, both when at work and when at home.  He prefers khaki trousers and button-down shirts (usually white) with cardigans or blazers (usually brown).  He’s a master at not getting paint on his clothing even though he spends a lot of time around the medium.  Pierce is usually put-together, but a tad sloppy looking.  His cuffs tend to be unbuttoned and his collar is sometimes askew.  He also doesn’t prefer to do any ironing.

Personality and likes/dislikes:  As a university art professor, Pierce balances his time at work between teaching students and working on his own pieces.  He’s pretty confident in front of a class (he’s had a lot of practice), but gets nervous and anxious when things go off-script.  He’s kept to himself most of his life, and despite being older, he doesn’t have a lot of experience with friendships or dating.  Pierce doesn’t prefer to take work home with him, and he spends most of his evenings with a movie and his cat, Mimi.  He enjoys making lists of films (like all Marilyn Monroe’s films or every Batman movie) and watching them one by one.

Illness and caretaking behavior: Pierce has the type of anxiety that gets him burning through tons of energy.  He doesn’t keep weight on, and his immune system isn’t great.  He won’t take a day off work unless he’s really in dire straits, so head-buried-in-folded-arms-on-desk andshivering-while-clutching-hot-coffee are definitely things.  He tries to say he’s fine, and he’ll refuse all help unless it’s truly an emergency.  Pierce is warming up to Hildur’s comforting presence, though.  As a caretaker, he’s one to offer to bring the sickie a drink, a snack, some medicine, etc.  He’s awkward with verbal and physical comfort.