#sal writes

[salty-an-disco]

for the moments in-between, I imagine LQ referring to the perspectives as 'shards'. "Lenses through which I can see the worlds beyond. Focus points that light up my alleys."

I also wrote some descriptions just for fun which I thought I'd share here–

[Cold]

"This one speaks of numbness. Projecting it like a shield in hopes it'll absorb all impacts. But it is hopeless and lost, longing for something it can never truly reach. But it'll never stop trying. It will make for an unmoving heart.

There's no need to mourn it. For it has found what it's been searching for."

[Opportunist + Broken]

"I think this one has more than one shard this time."

Yes. A pair that melded into a single set of eyes the moment they were brought to me.

This one speaks of deceit and hopelessness. They fear for a downfall they want to avoid at all costs, and yet sees it as inevitable. They will make for an obsessive heart.

There's no need to mourn them. They don't need to fear anymore.

[everyone]

This one is a cacophony. So many wants and pleas being spoken at once that it all converges into a single thought. Silence.

They will make for a quiet heart.

There's no need to mourn them. For they have reached their potential.

[luckyreds]

For the five sentence fic!

"I didn't expect to see you here."

so it turned out a bit longer than five sentences but this is what I came up with! It started with that first line but now it's somewhere around the end of this snippet. oops.

Bill was already behind the bar when Babe walked in, holding up his bandaged hand like a trophy.

"Bill! Look at this! I had to get six stitches!" Babe announced, wiggling his fingers dramatically.

Bill barely glanced up from pouring a beer. "with the mess you left the kitchen I would've thought yer hand wasn't attached anymore, dumbass."

"Well I nearly did lose a hand slicing an orange."

Joe, stacking glasses behind the bar, snorted. "How did you even manage that, Babe?"

Bill grinned. "Do you need to ask? This idiot could find a way to hurt himself in his sleep."

Babe slid onto his usual stool, dropping his arm onto the bar with a sigh. "I’m serious! The doc said I’m lucky I didn’t hit any nerves!"

Before he could launch into his dramatic retelling the door swung open. A gust of cool night air swept in, carrying the smell of rain and street pavement as Eugene stepped inside, shaking out his umbrella.

Babe nudged Bill, lowering his voice. "That’s him."

Bill raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

Babe flicked his eyes toward the door. "The hot doc I told you about on the phone! The one who stitched up my hand."

Bill gave him a slow, unimpressed look. "Jesus Christ, Babe."

Joe just whistled under his breath. "Well, he’s pretty looking."

At the door, Eugene took in the warm glow of neon signs, the clinking of glasses, the easy hum of conversation. He spotted Babe, who gave an awkward half-wave. Gene raised an eyebrow, amused, before making his way over.

"Heffron. How’s the hand?"

Babe grinned, holding it up. "Told you to call me Babe. It’s just a bit sore."

"Lemme see."

Gene’s voice was low, smooth, just like it had been in the hospital. He slid into the seat next to Babe, and before Babe could protest, he gently took his hand, cool fingers cradling it as he unwrapped the bandage.

Bill snorted behind them. Babe knew his ears were burning red.

"Soooo, I didn’t expect to see you here."

Gene raised an eyebrow. "What, a doctor ain’t allowed to drink?"

Babe blushed. "No!" He scrambled to correct himself. "I mean- here, at the Shindig. Never seen you here before."

As soon as he finished, he caught the amused smile playing on Eugene’s lips, and Babe blushed fiercely. 

“It’s all looking good Heffron, just keep it clean and dry alright?”

[salthesaltyfox]

Baked Treats Are Good for Morale

Ladybug is pretty sure she’d recognize Chat Noir right away, even without the glamour. And she bets on it.

In school, Marinette bumps into a kid with a prosthetic leg much like Chat Noir. What a coincidence! The coincidences continue as they both seem to get an interest in baking around the same time…

(Ao3 link)

This fic is my secret santa gift for @kronehaze!! Happy (belated) Holidays friend! <3

[discountscoobyart]

happy to announce that i'm currently editing chapter 11 of dead flowers!!!

[salsdemonposting]

Echoes Chapter 2: Lost and Found

Ray gives this Emma some context for her previous life before meeting with Gilda and Phil.

(Ao3 link)

[salstray]

A Hand To Hold

An OC Blurb - 601 words

----

Note: Hey, so, as the token straight in my friend group, I offered to write my friends anything they wanted me to and one of my friends asked me to write our two OC witches holding hands because they are gay and in their OG world, they are married with two adopted children and two cats. This is a sort of medieval/royalty au with little to no context and some pining, hope you enjoy.

Cinder is Mine. Blythe belongs to @kindleofhope

---

Happy Pride!

---

     “And what is the Queen doing out here, all alone at her own masquerade?”

      Blythe recognized the voice in an instant. When she turned, she was faced with a black-clad figure, slightly shorter than herself. Even more so with the heels she’d donned for this occasion. The only spot of color on their person was the bright, fiery mask that adorned their face, covering everything but their flickering eyes. 

      “Cinder,” she said quietly. “I should have known you’d find a way to slip past the guards. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

      Cinder smiled under her mask and slid forward, choosing to stop on Blythe’s right side. She gazed up at the Queen for a moment, saying nothing, simply admiring the way her hair was pinned and the dark smudges that ringed her vibrant eyes, just barely visible behind the black feathered mask that sat atop her visage. 

      “Is it so hard to believe that I’d choose to come see you on your birthday?”

      Blythe scoffed. “The last time you were in this castle you were trying to kill me.” 

      “Oh please,” Cinder snarked, resting her hands on the railing beside Blythe’s. She had gloves on, but they were fingerless, showing off the black polish coating her nails. “Is there anyone in this Gods-forsaken country that thinks their Immortal Witch Queen could be brought so low by a common mercenary?”

      “Still. Your intentions were very clear,” Blythe muttered. Her smile was clear in her voice. Neither of them commented on it. 

      “Maybe so. Are they so clear this time?” 

      “...no, I can’t say they are.” 

      They fell into silence. The air around them was filled with the quiet sound of music and idle chatter and tipsy giggles of the young court girls as they drank their night away. 

      Cinder glanced to the side, her eyes shifting up and down Blythe’s form. The Queen was dressed similarly to herself. Mostly black with hints of purple and silver. Rings, a long flowing trail to her dress, jewels lining her mask. It covered her entire face, just like Cinder’s own mask, but it had feathers lining her eyes, fanning out over her temples. The silver stones lined the underside of the eyeholes and the lips were painted with the same color. Besides that, it was a simple matte black. 

      It fit her nicely.

      Cinder’s eyes slipped down to Blythe’s hands. Her nails were a touch longer than her own and sharpened, painted the same color as her eyes. Most of her rings were simple silver bands. No set gems or jewels.

      After a moment of hesitation, Cinder shifted her hand across the stone banister that separated them from the ocean below the balcony. Blythe’s head turned to follow the motion, but she made no move to stop the mercenary beside her. 

      Eventually, Cinder’s hand lifted and she rested her fingers atop Blythe’s, gently twisting their fingers together. 

      They were both still for a moment. 

      Blythe’s head turned further and Cinder’s did the same. Their eyes met, Cinder’s glowing bright and nearly golden with the emotions burning within them. The intensity of it nearly burned, even from this distance, so Blythe turned away to save herself the scars.

      “Happy birthday, Blythe.”

      “...thank you, Cinder.” 

      “I supposed we should return to the party, hm? Before your yes-men and court girls get suspicious.”

      “They can wait a moment more, I’m sure.” 

      Cinder didn’t say anything about the way Blythe’s hand squeezed hers, but she squeezed back and smiled wide under her mask, taking a deep breath of the sea breeze as it washed over them both.

[art-missy]

“How the fuck do you breathe with that ?”

Sal watched you trying his prosthetic with a fond eye as you were comfortably settled onto his lap. His hands stayed on your waist as your eyes analyzed the face in yours.

“Maybe I'm just used to it,” he shrugged.

“Are you never hot under that ?”

He just casually shook his head.

You looked down at the prostethic in your hands then back at the young man in front of you. A slow grin started to grow on your lips. Sal immediately recognized the mischief in your eyes.

Still looking into his eyes, you slowly started to press kisses in the inside of the prostethic, lingering where the lips were. You felt Sal shifting beneath you and you had the satisfaction to watch the wild blush spreading from his beautiful face to his ears and the back of his neck. You also felt the grip he had on your waist tightening.

His gaze was incapable of leaving you when he nervously cleared his throat.

“W-What are you doing ?”

You bit your lower lip with fondness at his slight stutter. You found him so adorable.

“I'm giving you a reason to be hot under that prostethic later.”

You gently discarded the prosthetic on his bedtable and gently pushed his shoulders so he could lie down beneath you. You smiled gently at him as you caressed his scarred face. You felt his breathing hitching at your casual boldness as you settled on his hips. You watched his adam apple bobbing with a loving fascination. Sal was there, at your mercy. And he seemed to like it. You leaned down, teasingly blowing hot air in his ear.

“Could I pretty please give you a reason for feeling hot right now ?”

[circledwithaheart]

update: now posted to ao3

Buck is a few shots deep (when did he switch to shots?) with his new bar buddy. An attractive older guy who, as it turns out, also used to work at the 118 under Captain Nash.

"You worked with Bobby?" Buck lights up and rambles on before the guy can answer. "That means you must've worked with Hen and Chim, right?"

The guy mumbles a few things that Buck can't hear, and probably doesn't want to, before confirming he worked with Hen and Howie.

"Yeah, right. Howie. You know he married my sister? Gave me the cutest little niece." Buck beams and pulls out his phone to show off the album of Jee Yun photos. And then the other thought strikes again.

They look about the same age. It's possible, he thinks. Well, it's not impossible. Buck goes to pocket his phone again, only he misses his shirt entirely and it clatters on the table.

"Sorry 'bout that, uh, so if you worked with them- did you, uh, work with, uh, T-tommy? Tommy Kinard?"

Why is the name that used to slide off his tongue so easily now trip and stutter like it doesn't belong there?

The guy laughs, not seeming to notice Buck's elocution issues, and takes another shot. “Fuck, I’m getting too old for this shit.”

He spins the empty shot glass like a top. “Kinard? Yep, sure did. One of the best partners I could've asked for. At least he got to leave on his own terms.”

Buck furrows his brow, something familiar scratching at the back of his tequila addled brain. “What, uh, what did you say your name was again?”

“I didn’t,” the guy says matter of factly.

“But, you seem like a nice guy, so I'll tell you," he adds with a wink. "It’s Deluca. Sal Deluca.”

Buck's heard the name, a few stories here and there. Heard he moved to the 122, but doesn't know why.

"You transferred, right?" Buck asks cautiously.

The guy - Sal - shrugs his acknowledgement. "More or less. Anyway, I guess I better amend my introduction then. It's actually Captain Deluca. But Sal is fine. Or just Deluca."

"Buck."

Sal looks at him like he's got three heads. "Is that something new the kids are saying these days or...?"

"No, uh, 's m'name. Buck. Well, Evan Buckley, but you can call me Buck."

Sal studies him for a second before holding a hand out. "Nice to meet you, kid."

They shake hands and Buck thinks about the way Sal called him 'kid'. It's not like when Tommy said it. More like Bobby or Chim. Familial.

"Sorry to drink and run, but I gotta get home," Sal says, pushing out of his chair. "Wife's gonna kill me if I'm home too late."

"Oh, yeah. Sure. Maybe I'll see you around."

"Yeah, maybe." Then he's throwing some cash on the table and walking away.

~~~~~

As soon as he's out of sight, Sal taps on the camera app. It's probably a little unethical to surreptitiously be taking photos of the kid- Buck- but it's for a good cause.

Once upon a time he might have tried to pick him up, something about the kicked puppy look pulls at his heartstrings. Among other things. But now he's a happily married man with a whole brood to think about. Gina really would kill him, decorated fire captain or not.

He swipes over to messages and fires off a quick text.

Met your boy tonight. Christ Kinard he’s as bad as you. Should really put yourselves out of your collective misery.

It doesn't take long before the bubbles appear.

I did, remember? It's better this way.

Sal attaches the picture this time.

Better for who, exactly?

The bubbles appear and disappear again, until his screen eventually goes dark and no more responses come. Sal sighs and gets in the cab of his truck, contemplating another text, but ultimately decides against it. Tommy will talk when he's ready.

He steals another glance through the giant plate glass window where Buck is still sitting, sullen and lost, albeit with what looks like water this time.

"I hope it works out, kid, and he doesn't wait too long." Sal pushes aside the phantom acrid scent of a dinner forgotten in the oven while they fucked on the kitchen floor, the fear in Tommy's eyes when Sal asked when they could tell people about them. Because it had been months of sneaking around to each other's apartments. Of being more than just work partners- or so he thought. "Maybe he'll get his head out of his ass before it's too late this time."

[franeridart]

The Housecat Philosophy - Ep 103

Ep 00 || < Prev || Next >

Read ahead on Patreon || Catch up on Webtoon || support me on ko-fi~✨

[salty-an-disco]

This is the story of a man named– wait… you’re not Stanley! And this isn’t–

Hmmm. Well, this is awkward. Wouldn’t you know about a man named Stanley? Works in an office, likes to push buttons– No?

Oh, well, while this isn’t my usual script, it does seem that there is a story to be found here. Isn’t that nice? Oh, and would you look at that– It seems like you’re the hero of it! How fun!

OK, let’s see–

You’re on a path in the woods. And at the ending of that path is a cabin. And in the basement of that cabin is a princess.

You’re here to slay her. If you don’t, it’ll be the end of the world.

Oooohh, concise, but immediately intriguing. With a nice twist of expected roles. I like it!

[luckyreds]

I said I was gonna post modern web before Christmas- 😔 it keeps expanding on itself. You can have the first piece of chapter 1. Alright byeee🚪🚶‍♀️

Heavy Eurobeat thumped relentlessly against the basement walls, each pulse vibrating through David's entire body, making the room feel as if it might collapse under the pressure. From his lonely perch by the pillar, the dance floor below him resembled a writhing, pulsing organism, alive in ways David could barely comprehend. Strobe lights splintered the darkness into jagged fragments, catching brief snapshots of glistening, sweat-soaked bodies tangled together in chaotic unison. A thick mix of artificial fog and acrid cigarette smoke curled in the air like a restless spirit. The club’s heavy metal doors wheezed open and shut like lungs, exhaling smoke and heat into the chilly November night.

David blinked, disoriented. This wasn’t dancing, not really. This was chaos set to a beat, He wasn't a stranger to a good night out; after all, Manhattan was chock full of them, and he had his fair share of nights out on the town, but between this and Manny’s car wash it was like going from the opera to a garage band.

He pulled at his collar in discomfort, when Denise had enthusiastically proclaimed that they were heading to the best club in town. He had dressed accordingly, or so he thought: a simple, crisp button-up shirt, neatly tucked-in jeans, and his usual dress shoes. However, the raised eyebrows he had gotten from his colleagues should have been his first warning sign. The glimmering, sequined tops and oversized baggy trousers they were wearing should have been the second signal that he had fundamentally misjudged this whole night out. Nevertheless, he had shrugged it off as they piled into the backseat of Thomas’s Volvo 240, arriving at the place just after 10.

The intersection was bustling with life, dotted with several vibrant restaurants and bars, each more lively than the last, but they had ignored it, marching straight past a crowded bar brimming with laughter and music into a dark, narrow alleyway. Where trees obscured most light from above, creating an almost eerie ambience as they joined the line leading to an unremarkable set of metal doors tucked away down some stairs behind the bar. The only thing that indicated there even was a club there was the posters plastered on the grimy brick wall, one simply a Eagle coming down with Club Eazy written underneath in a looping scrawl. Another from a week ago: you are invited to our 2nd anniversary Halloween weekend special! Fri-Sat-Sun from 9-5. It was right there, in between the clusters of alternative styles, the already faint thumping erratic music, the scent of weed and the heavy musk of sweat, David truly should’ve acknowledged that this club wasn’t his style.

Sighing, he checked his watch for the fourth time. 00:31. Thomas had gone to get drinks twenty minutes ago, maybe longer, and hadn’t come back yet. Mel and Alice had wandered off to the toilets and similarly vanished in the throng of people, and Denise managed to charm a cute girl into a corner and slipped out of the club moments later with her hand in said girl’s back pocket. He scanned the crowd for familiar faces, but it was hopeless. The strobe lights turned everything into disjointed flashes, and it seemed his colleagues had melted into the chaos.

this was Mauvaise Fois, David thought dimly, twirling his glass of beer in his hand, watching the lukewarm liquid swish around like a sad excuse for a drink. That was why he had ended up here, in this dingy club. He should’ve listened to his mother and used his gap year on a trip through Europe. But no, he had to be stubborn, follow the example of Lewis Nixon, who had quit Yale and the family business and to Philadelphia with a mysterious redhead from rural pennsylvania. making a name for himself here. It had been quite the scandal, and David had been enthralled. Of course, he should’ve realised that such things didn’t work for him. because here he was, three months in, churning out mediocre horoscopes for a B-tier magazine, surrounded only by colleagues who, despite their familiarity, felt like distant acquaintances at most.

Really, Returning to Manhattan sounded increasingly appealing each day more he spent in Philadelphia; then he could finish his degree at Harvard and take the job at The New York Times his father had been hinting at, instead of getting lost in this hazy world of nightlife and regret.

The music shifted, morphing into an even faster rhythm that sent his head spinning. The two Mai-Tai’s he had weren’t doing him any favours right now. “Do you think you’re better off alone?” was repeated into his slightly swimming consciousness. It felt like the universe was mocking him, like a cruel twist of fate he couldn’t escape. fucking great.

Suddenly, a jolt knocked him from his thoughts as someone collided with him, sending his beer flying from his hand and spilling the tepid liquid down his arm and onto his already-ruined shoes.

“Hey! Watch it!” David snapped, shaking his arm in disgust.

“Watch it?!” the stranger retorted quickly, turning back to face him. He was wiry, with sharp features and deep brown eyes that seemed to catch the faint glow of the strobe lights. An unlit cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth, his lips curling into a scowl as he leaned in to be heard over the relentless thump of the bass. “Maybe don’t hold your booze out like a trophy, Jeezus!”

It was then, the guy noticed David, really noticed him, eyes flicking over him, from his drenched shoes to his perfectly tucked-in button-up. “Huh,” he muttered, angry façade disappearing like snow in the sun. “what’s a yuppie like you doing in a place like this?”

David blinked, thrown off guard. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Baby blue here doesn’t exactly scream ‘underground chic.’ You got lost on your way to the country club or something?” the guy smirked, leaning even closer now, almost nose to nose with him.

David bristled with indignation, glancing down at his outfit and then back up at the audacious stranger “There’s nothing wrong with how I’m dressed.” He huffed, leaning back “And I’m not a yuppie!”

“Yeah, sure.” The stranger rolled his eyes dramatically and leaned against the beat-up iron railing beside him, flicking his lighter. A tiny flame flared briefly before igniting the cigarette, the cherry glowing red as he took a long drag. “Keep telling yourself that,” he said, smoke curling out with his words.

“I’m really not—” David opened his mouth to argue, but got a face full of smoke as the guy blew a puff of smoke directly at him watching with a lazy smirk as he coughed and sputtered. “It’s what I fucking see,” he retorted, a smirk playing on his lips “But seriously- what are you even doing here?”

David shot him a glare through watery eyes. “For your information,” he bit out “I’m here with friends.” The word stung in his mouth. Denise was the closest thing he had to a friend, with their shared cubicle and all. Thomas? He felt embarrassed to even label him a co-worker, and Mel and Alice? They had only exchanged brief pleasantries over the coffee machine. But no way was he admitting that to this guy.

The stranger raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Friends, huh? And where are they?” His tone dripped with scepticism, smirk morphing into something sharper, almost predatory. David swallowed, heat rising to his cheeks and flushing his ears.

“They went to the bathroom,” David shot back defensively, his arms crossing tightly over his chest.

“All of them, together? I’d like to see that,” the guy laughed, the sound almost cruel. “Sounds to me like they ditched you.

“They didn’t ditch me,” David insisted, though the words sounded hollow even to him.

“Uh-huh.” The guy took another drag from his cigarette and exhaled slowly, the smoke curling lazily upward. “Whatever you say, baby blue.”

David opened his mouth to retort but stopped. What was the point? His colleagues had ditched him, as accidental as it was. He felt a pang of frustration, not just at them, but at himself, for letting the whole situation get under his skin in the first place.

The guy observed him for a moment, and to David’s surprise, his grin softened, transforming from something mocking to almost playful, his dark eyes sparking with mischief. “You know,” he drawled, straightening up, “I was gonna leave you here to wallow, but watching you stand there like a sad puppy is just depressing. Come on.” He motioned toward the bar. “Let me get you a new beer at least.”

David blinked, unsure if he’d just been insulted or pitied. Either way, the night couldn’t get much worse. “make it something stronger and you have a deal.”

Joe’s grin widened. “Knew you we’re a fun one” he said and a slim but firm hand gripped his wrist as David was dragged from his place by the pillar through the bustling crowd of onlookers spilling out of the pit area for a moment of fresh air. The bar was conveniently situated near the restrooms and directly across from the doorways. A fluorescent oasis in the swamp of noise and grime, where the bartenders worked with mechanical precision, sliding glasses of glowing, sugary drinks across the sticky counter in rapid succession.

David scanned the area quickly, searching for Thomas but finding him nowhere in sight. ‘I’d better not see him now,’ he thought darkly, frustration creeping in once more as he thought of him. The annoying prick.

His new acquaintance quickly wormed his way to the far left side of the bar, where they seized a spot at the very end. He leaned over the sticky counter, his voice cutting through the pulsating bass as he called out to the bartender. Almost instantly, a young bartender approached, a crooked grin spreading across his face. “Heya, Joe! The usual?”

‘Joe,’ David thought absently. So that was his name, and it suited him; all cocky charm and bravado

Joe flashed a smile " Yeah! Two of them! And a Sobel for him," he ordered. The bartender smirked knowingly at the last request, nodding before grabbing the well-worn beer tap.

David raised an eyebrow, his curiosity sparking past his frustration. “What’s a Sobel?”

Joe barked out a laugh, slapping him on the arm. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

In the back, David noticed the bartender retrieving bottles of vodka and hot sauce from underneath the bar. His stomach churned at the sight, a pit of unease settling in. Joe turned toward David, a conspiratorial glint in his eye.

“Ya got some cash on you? I’m tapped out.” jabbing his thumb to a cracked neon sign flickering weakly behind the bar, spelling out "DRINKS $5 CASH ONLY" in an uneven pink glow.

David nodded, half distracted by the strange ingredients retrieved for whatever concoction Joe ordered him, feeling in his trousers for his wallet. Fumbling a bit, he opened it and pulled out the first bill he encountered, slapping a crumpled fifty onto the bar.

“This enough for the night?”

Joe peeled it off the counter and let out a low whistle.

“Well, look at you, Rockefeller.” He grinned and flashed it to the bartender.

“You hear that, Malark?” he called out cheerfully. ‘Malark,’ the bartender, turned around and placed three glasses in front of them. “Is this enough?” Joe laughed, leaning over the bar to stuff the fifty into Malark’s shirt pocket with exaggerated flair. “Keep it!”

“Hey!” David protested, his eyebrows knitting together in a frown “That’s my money!”

“And you gave it to me, genius. Rule number one—never hand over your cash unless you’re cool with losing it.” He clapped David on the shoulder, chuckling. “Man, showing up in a place like this looking like you just stepped out of a J. Crew catalogue? You’re lucky someone hasn’t lifted your money yet.”

“You did.” David replied. Joe just shot him a look. “Think of it as a lesson.”

With that he swiped the drinks off the counter, thrusting a cloudy reddish beer into David’s hands with a smirk. “Come on, drink it. It’s a newcomer’s welcome,”

He swallowed hard, resolve wavering. He really shouldn’t drink it; the concoction looked utterly disgusting, and he was sure it wouldn’t taste any better. Yet, something within him refused to back down from Joe’s dare. With a deep breath, he tossed it back. The vodka and hot sauce seared through his tongue and throat like fire, the fizz of the beer only making it worse. He slammed the empty glass back onto the sticky counter, doubling over and sputtering. Above him, Joe cackled, enjoying the show.

“that’s it!” Joe crowed, slapping David on the back “Knew you had some balls on ya.” He handed David the next drink, something that resembled coke but it undoubtedly held some form of alcohol. David took a sip, almost retching again. It wasn’t just coke with booze; it was a godforsaken Jägerbomb. He closed his eyes, the realization sinking in like a weight. ‘What the hell,’ David thought. ‘If I’m going to get wasted tonight, let it be with something good at least.’

He tossed the Jägerbomb back, feeling the burn as it slid down his throat, and turned around, slamming the glass on the back. he looked at the much-too-pleased face of the bartender. “Get me a Mai Tai!” he called out, his hand already darting back into his pocket to produce another bill, a twenty this time, which he slapped down with renewed determination. “make it a double.” He added, glancing at Joe with a conspiracy look, two could play that game. “And a Four Horsemen for him.” Joe laughed once more, bumping their arms together. “Now we’re talking.” He cheered and David felt a real smile appear on his lips for the first time in a long while.  

[salthesaltyfox]

City of Fools Chapter 21: Fresh Waters

Pollen’s dying for a change of scenery, and back on the Oasis Bite, Marinette and Sabine have a talk that’s been long overdue.

Considering my track record, one month later isn’t all that long for a new update.

[discountscoobyart]

to all my dead flowers connoisseurs, i am writing and i will be updating the fic soon!!! i know i said that like two months ago but this time it’s happening

[salsdemonposting]

Echoes Chapter 4: No Matter What

Em has a stroll with Gilda and Phil, and Ray is left to deal with important conversations.

[aviradasa]

hey! I stumbled upon your work, and instantly loved it. would it be ok if you could do a Sal fisher x flutter shy! like reader? Im sorry if this doesn’t make sense, but reader who has the same personality as flutter shy and is also good with animals?

Awww, love fluttershy this is a bit short and sweet and lightly proofread i apologize!!

Sal x fluttershy like reader HC

(Art from Pinterest)

You guys most likely met in school.

Sal almost instantly wanted to try and be your friend because you seemed so sweet.

But you were really, really shy.

So when he first tried to talk to you and you kinda seemed scared or uncomfortable, he automatically figured it was cause of his appearance.

He was kinda sad about it, honestly, but at this point, he was used to it.

But then he found out you were really close with Ash, and he decided to ask her about you.

After sal told her what happened, she burst out laughing. He stood their for like 3 minutes, waiting for her to calm down as she leaned against the locker catcher, her breath with a big ass smile.

"Oh god dude no no no. It's not that she's scared of what you look like she's just scared to talk to people in general. She actually thinks you're pretty dope she just struggles to talk to people. But don't worry, I'll help you." Ash says, patting his back as she continues to chuckle.

It reassures him a little. Ash said she would introduce you guys, which was nice but also a little scary. He did not wanna freak you out.

But once ash does Introduce you guys shit lights up.

You all are besties.

The first time you came to his apartment and saw Gizmo, you almost ran to that cat. Picking him up and talking to him. To sal it was almost like Gizmo understood you.

A lot of the time you guys hang is sal playing games or playing guitar while you play with Gizmo.

It's the only time that cat gets any exercise cause whenever sal tries to wave the shoestring in his face, Gizmo looks at him stupid.

After some time of hanging with Sal, you start to come out of your shell more. Opening up a bit and starting to chat more with others without being as easily spooked off.

And he also learned that you liked to sing. Alot.

He will catch you sometimes. But he knows if he mentions it, you'll stop, and you have such a nice voice, so no way he'll do that.

One day you mentioned how much you wanted to be a singer but didn't have the balls and he convinced you

Somehow

To sing while he plays guitar. It's a nice little bonding moment.

Ash has a picture of you that she just loves so much of you holding gizmo while singing with Sal in the background just looking up at you.

She gave you both copys.copy's.

It was really embarrassing for you. Sal, on the other hand, put that shit in his locker, and it's his favorite picture

Now you are full of surprises. One thing sal didn't expect was for you to have so much build-up rage.

Now, it was the day Travis punched sal, and you weren't having that shit. As soon as Travis's fist collided with sals prosthetic, your backhand made contact with his bare face.

Nobody was expecting you to bitchslap him. After you stuck your finger in his face, almost yelling at him as you back him up against a wall before you actually manage to scream at him.

Jesus Christ.

Once Travis was gone, you went up to sal and Ash back to your normal self.

You never spoke of it again. And they were kind of too scared to ask.

With Sal, you are more open, and the group loves you to death.your love of animals is deeply loved by sal and your hidden anger. (While being a surprise) He kind of found cute cause he never thought you could be capable of it.

If yall do end up dating, expect to end up running around in the woods looking for demons and or raccoons.

We won't get into how you befriended the ghosts or how the red eyed demon won't attack you. ( it's like a little discord fluttershy situation like how they became friends)

Sal gets freaked out when it appears in front of you the first time, and you waved to it while he was trying to figure out how to escape.

After that you had some explaining to do lol.

But back on track, you guys dating is the fluffiest,cutest, toothrotting, lovely, type of relationship you will ever see.

[qwordavoider]

I present to you 650 words of the beginning of my take on Buck transferring to the 122 under Sal. It'll eventually lead to a tevan reunion, but I want to do it from Ravi and Buck's pov to switch it up. I will also be adding it to the make me write that I have going right now. So feel free to request more of the 122 transfer fic 🚒 and enjoy Ravi's pov to start off.

-

“Hey Buck,” Ravi greets as he walks into the locker room at the start of shift. He expects to get the typical, “Morning Rav,” from him. Instead he finds Buck staring blankly at the locker in front of him. Ravi can’t help but notice that it’s a little emptier than the last shift. 

“Buck?” he prompts again when there is no sign that Buck heard him. “You good?” Ravi asks.

Buck jumps and it’s clear that he was in his own world, but he nods in response to Ravi’s question and starts slowly getting ready for their shift. He had been like that a bit more lately. Ravi knew Buck was probably taking Bobby’s death hard, even if he didn’t necessarily see it most days. Buck was the one checking in with him the most and he really appreciated it, but he always brushed off Ravi’s offer to talk. The others didn’t seem worried, so he was assuming Buck was just grieving in his own way. 

The first time he became really worried was when Buck said he was transferring. He never thought the man who chased him with a chainsaw to make sure Ravi was worthy of taking over his spot, would ever willingly leave the 118. Ravi studied Buck out of the corner of his eye and now that he paid more attention, he could see the tension and exhaustion in his face and the way he held himself. He hadn’t taken the time to look beyond what Buck was telling him to see that he wasn’t doing well. 

He’s about to ask how he’s really doing when Buck whispers, “I’m still transferring.”

Ravi stills to think through the best way to respond. He had really thought that Chim’s speech had been enough to convince him to stay. It had been for Eddie and he had bought a house in Texas, so Ravi just assumed that Buck had pulled the transfer papers. Guess he was wrong. 

“You’re not gonna bring out the chainsaw on me again are you?” Ravi eventually asks, deciding to try and lighten the mood. 

Buck stares at him for a second before he catches on, cracking a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “Nah. You earned your spot here a long time ago Rav. No chainsaw required.”

“Are you sure this is what you want to do?” Ravi asks. 

“Yeah, I am.”

Ravi nods, that’s good enough for him. “Well I’m gonna miss you. Despite our rocky start I’ve learned a lot from you. But like you said to Hen, you gotta do what’s best for you. I admire you for that.”

Buck looks surprised that Ravi’s not fighting him on it. He can’t blame the guy. Seems like every time Buck decides to do something he’s either asking for advice from the team or they try and talk him out of it. He’s glad to see Buck doing something for himself. 

Since Buck doesn’t seem like he’s able to say anything right now, Ravi continues, “Is that why you’re slowly cleaning out your locker?”

Buck nods, “Today is my last shift.”

Wow, that’s quick. He doesn’t know why Buck hadn’t told anyone, so he asks, “Does Chim know?”

Chimney had taken over the role of captain for the last few shifts while the chief decided on whether or not it could be permanent. It seems like something the interim captain should know about. 

“I-”, Buck sighs, “I’m going to tell him right now. Just psyching myself up.”

Ravi nods, “Do you know where you’re going?” 

“A-shift at the 122, under Captain Deluca,” Buck replies.

Ravi thinks that name sounds familiar, but he’s not sure why because Tommy immediately comes to mind when he hears it. Weird. 

“Well, don’t be a stranger. If you need anything- well, not anything, I won’t steal a helicopter for you. But if you need a friend… I’m here,” Ravi offers, hoping that Buck sees it as the outstretched hand it is.

-

Part 2