#so yeah. pretty much completely introspection here which is a little unusual for me but hopefully it came out alright

[sgtcalhouns]

Angels Like You

I know that you're wrong for me

Gonna wish we never met on the day I leave

I brought you down to your knees

‘Cause they say that misery loves company

It’s not your fault I ruin everything

And it’s not your fault I can’t be what you need

Baby, angels like you can’t fly down here with me

I’m everything they said I would be

a short-ish update to the fresh start au, Tamora reflects on recent events. enjoy!

I should’ve fought harder for you.

Wiping the sweat from her brow, Tamora left the gym and headed into the locker room. She’d been hoping that some exercise would help her work through the emotional roller coaster she had been on for the last several days, or at least help her clear her mind, but it seemed she was having no such luck. Every time she closed her eyes she could hear those words and see the look on Felix’s face after he said it; the dread had been easy to identify, but there was something else she hadn’t been able to put her finger on. She had convinced herself that the jumble of emotions she had been struggling to control would make sense if only she could figure out what else had been hiding in his expression.

After a full 24 hours of rumination got her nowhere, she decided to take the opposite approach and try to keep her mind off of it. Felix had been struggling with his emotions that night and the following morning, but he clearly intended to talk to her when he was ready. There was no use continuing to dwell on things. No use inventing explanations for his behavior. All she was doing was torturing herself, she knew. But no matter how hard she tried, I should’ve fought harder for you had taken up permanent residence in her mind.

To make matters worse, the perky little whatshername who worked reception at the gym had immediately taken an interest in Felix.

“Who was that man that came to see you?” she had asked.

Tamora didn’t feel like getting into the details, so she had described him as an old friend. In hindsight, she probably should’ve been more specific.

“He’s cute.”

“Yeah,” Tamora had replied absentmindedly, thoughts already beginning to spiral. “Adorable.”

They hadn’t spoken much, Tamora and the girl at reception. She was nice. There was no reason to dislike her. No reason for the anger that flared in her chest at the suggestion that this girl might be interested in Felix. Lots of people were interested in Felix; he was cute. It shouldn’t bother her so much that someone else had taken notice.

All of her emotions swirled into an unintelligible mess. She suddenly felt possessive of Felix, a feeling that was immediately chased by guilt—she had no right to feel that way when she had been the one to break things off. Especially not after she had caused him so much distress throughout their relationship.

Felix deserved far better than Tamora had to offer. Maybe he should go out with this girl. She was friendly and kind and outgoing like him; the kind of person she had always felt he deserved. The two of them could hold hands and skip off into the sunset and Tamora would eventually get over it, cut herself off from the world, and rest easy knowing she had saved Felix from spending the rest of his life under her dark cloud of gloom. She’d enjoyed her fair share of days in the sunshine that radiated from him—maybe it was time to give someone else a turn.

It was a bitter truth, one she struggled to swallow. If he started dating someone else, she didn’t think she could be his friend. Even trying to imagine it now, the thought made her squirm. She couldn’t stomach seeing him with another woman, witnessing firsthand how every touch, sweet gesture, and pet name was not something he reserved just for her, but something that was written into his DNA. He always had a way of making her feel like the only woman who had ever turned his head, and she had always had a hard time believing it. Seeing him with someone else would cement the truth—she wasn’t special. Not to Felix, not really. Not to the only person who had ever really made her feel special.

As she passed by the neat row of lockers lining the wall, she bit back the urge to slam her fist into the cold metal. It was the most malleable surface within reach, though she was sure it would still do some decent damage to her hand if she gave in. This was a nice gym, she didn’t want to cause any problems. And she really didn’t want to deal with the sort of reputation that would surely follow such a decision. She had worked hard to curate a public persona that was more palatable than the anger and angst that hid beneath the surface.

Here in her new life, she was pleasant and quiet. She had made it out of the military without any emotional baggage, and she used the skills she had picked up there to improve the lives of others. She wasn’t defined by her most traumatic experience, and she was never the subject of pity. If she gave in to the rage coursing through her veins, there would certainly be questions. Why would someone so pleasant and well-adjusted do such a thing? The illusion she had so carefully crafted would quickly unravel, and she wasn’t prepared to deal with the consequences.

Taking a deep breath, she sat on the bench in the center of the room. Part of her wished she could be angry at Felix for popping back up in her life and forcing the emotions she had suppressed for so long to resurface. She hadn’t exactly been happy before, but there was definitely less angst. But deep down, she knew that none of what she was experiencing was his fault. It wouldn’t be fair to blame him for the misery she had brought upon herself. Not to mention the misery she had caused him.

It occurred to Tamora that she could stop this. She had an opportunity to end the cycle of heartbreak that would continue for as long as she remained in Felix’s life. Whether or not it made her happy was irrelevant; her mission was clear. With newfound resolve, she walked out to the lobby and marched straight up to the reception counter.

“Hey,” she said, grabbing the receptionist’s attention. “I have a question for you. About my friend.”

The girl nodded, visibly intimidated by Tamora’s direct line of questioning. The sergeant continued, undeterred.

“Are you interested?”

[ejzah]

A/N: I think I was inspired by @glencoco4’s recent story, The Bravest. Hopefully it’s not too similar.

***

“Mom, can I ask you a question?” 15 year old Caleb asked. They were on their way to a soccer practice and he’d been silent most of the way, which was uncommon, but not completely unusual.

“Of course,” Kensi said, glancing over at him. His head was lowered so she couldn’t see his face completely. He swiped at his dark blonde bangs, the movement quick and jerky. His hair was always flopping in his face, just like his father.

“What really happened to dad’s father?” This question was asked softly, but with a conviction that made Kensi pause. He’d asked similar questions over the years when he noticed the lack of presence Gordon Brandel had in their lives. The first time, he’d simply asked why he only had one grandpa.

This time felt different.

“Caleb, what’s going on?” He hesitated for a minute, fiddling with his shoes and then his hair before he finally whispered,

“I found this box at Grandma Deeks’ house when I was looking for pictures for that school assignment.” Caleb paused again as Kensi’s heart suddenly began to race and then he looked at her, his eyes full of confusion.

“There were a bunch of papers. Like legal papers. And this file that said “Juvenile Record of Martin Deeks”. I opened it up and...” he swallowed harshly and his voice dropped to a whisper. “Mom, it said he shot his dad. Is that true?”

Kensi’s mouth felt incredibly dry and suddenly she wasn’t sure if she could speak at all. They’d known this moment was coming at some point, she just hadn’t expected it to happen like this.

“Did you read the whole file?” she finally asked. He shook his head quickly.

“No, I just saw that and I freaked. I shoved everything back in the box and told grandma I had a test to study for.”

“There’s a lot more to the story,” Kensi said slowly, driving aimlessly now. Making a sudden decision, she signaled and pulled off to the side of the road. She texted Caleb’s coach to tell him that he wouldn’t be at practice and then turned to her son. “This is something we need to discuss with your dad.”

His face fell.

“So it’s true. How-what-how does that happen?” He sounded so confused it broke Kensi’s heart. Awkwardly wrapping an arm around his broad shoulders, she gave him a hug and assured him,

“Your dad is a good man. One of the best men I have ever know and I promise when you know the whole story, it will make sense.”

“But-“

“It’s not my story to tell, honey.”

She let them both calm down for a few more minutes before she turned the van around. She’d sent Deeks a text that they needed to talk about something important so he wouldn’t be completely shocked.

It was hard to tell what Caleb was thinking; he could be just as boisterous and social as his father, but he also had a similar tendency to turn introspective. During those times, Kensi knew his actions, and thoughts, could be unpredictable.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Deeks asked, when they walked through the door. He kissed Kensi distractedly, looking them both over for signs of injury.

“I found your juvenile record,” Caleb answered, not beating around the bush. Kensi heard Deeks suck in a quick breath.

“Oh,” he muttered, rubbing his hand over his mouth. “We should probably sit down.”

Kensi and Deeks sat down on the couch, next to each other, automatically linking their hands. After a minute, Caleb sat next to them, but he kept his arms crossed.

“Dad, why did you shoot him?” Deeks sighed again and Kensi knew he was struggling to put words to a subject that still haunted him.

“Before I answer that question, you need to know a few other things. My dad he, uh, he wasn’t a great person. He drank a lot and he was very angry. When I was about five or six, he started hitting me and your grandma. He’d flip out over something or they’d get in an argument and he’d hit us,” Deeks explained, his eyes never leaving their son’s.

His lips had parted in surprise when Deeks had mentioned the violence and he shook his head, putting up a hand to halt the story.

“That’s domestic violence,” he whispered.

“Yeah.” The word was a little broken and Deeks drew in another shallow breath. Even after all these years, it was hard for him to talk about. Kensi leaned into his side, offering the contact as support. Deeks’ body was rigid with tension.

“How bad did it get?” Kensi thought he knew. She though Caleb had put all the pieces together already, but much like his parents, he liked to have all the information. He wasn’t content with half-stories.

Deeks pressed his lips together and nodded.

“Pretty bad. We ended up in the emergency several times and my arm got broken once. It the violence increased over time and then one night, when I was 11, he got mad at your grandma over something. I don’t even remember what. But he, uh, he started throwing things and hitting her and this time he didn’t stop.” Another breath.

“I ran into the room. I don’t know what I was thinking I could do, but I jumped in front of grandma and dad hit me instead. He told me to get out of the way and when I didn’t, he kept hitting me. Then he grabbed his shot gun.”

“Oh my god,” Caleb whispered. He face was stricken and reached out to take his father’s other hand. Deeks squeezed it back, staring into space for a moment.

“Mom pushed me out of the way. She wasn’t in good shape, but she was still trying to protect me. Dad started hitting her again, threatening to shoot us...so I ran upstairs. A friend of mine had given me a gun in case anything really bad happened and I, uh, I grabbed it and ran back downstairs.”

Tears were running down all three of their cheeks at this point and Kensi gripped Deeks’ hand so hard it must have hurt. She didn’t know if he’d ever gone into this much detail with anyone. Certainly not with her.

“When he saw me with it, he shoved me away and aimed the shot gun at your grandma and I just shot him. I don’t know how I even hit him since I’d never fired a gun before, but it hit him in the side.

“I don’t remember all that much after that until the police came. One of the neighbors had called them,” Deeks finished, watching Caleb’s reaction. He’d stopped crying, but his cheeks were still wet and he scrubbed at them ineffectually.

“Did your dad die after you shot him,” he asked. Kensi noticed that he didn’t link himself with the man he’d never met, like he normally would.

“No. He recovered after a couple weeks in the hospital and then he was tried in court and went to prison.” Caleb opened his mouth, but Deeks guessed his next question before he asked. “I never saw him again after that. All I know is that he was released from jail early and later died in a car accident.”

Good,” Caleb said fervently.

“Caleb!” Kensi reprimanded him sharply, even though she secretly agreed.

“What, I mean it.” Caleb had that stubborn set to his face that was again indicative of his parentage. Deeks freed one of his hands and scrubbed it over his face, looking older and more tired than he had 10 minutes ago.

“Caleb, you don’t want to think like that, believe me,” he said. “Your gra-my dad was not a good man, but you never want to get into thinking that someone dying is a good thing.”

Caleb rolled his eyes, but didn’t contradict Deeks.

“So why didn’t you tell me this before?” he asked. He sounded hurt and possibly bitter. “Every time I asked what happened to my other grandfather, you just said he died a long time ago. Even if you didn’t want to tell me the whole story, you should have told me the truth.”

Deeks glanced at Kensi again and she nodded for him to continue.

“We didn’t tell you because it’s a lot to handle. Even though your nearly an adult, knowing my history is a big weight to put on another person. We didn’t want to put that on you too soon,” he said gently.

“I think that should have been my choice.”

“Well, now that you know, what are you thinking?” Kensi asked gingerly. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking and that worried her.

Caleb looked across the room, messing with his fingers as he thought. Eventually he shrugged and said,

“It makes a lot of sense,” he said, speaking directly to Deeks. “Everything I’ve seen you do, everything you’ve told me and taught me all my life, it makes sense now. It explains a lot about you too.”

“In a good or bad way?” Caleb seemed surprised by the question.

“I’ve always wanted to be just like you and now I have even more reason to want that.”

“Is that why you were so upset when you found that file?” Kensi asked, suddenly coming to a realization. “You thought your dad wasn’t the man you’d looked up to for so long.”

Caleb shrugged again.

“I guess.” He turned to Deeks again. “I’m sorry I ever doubted you, Dad.”

“No worries, buddy,” Deeks assured him as Caleb swiped at his nose again. He seemed close to crying again and Deeks wrapped his arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. “Come here.”

Kensi wrapped her arms around both of them as Caleb buried his head in their shoulder the same way he had when he was a little boy.

“Thanks for always taking care of us, dad,” he whispered hoarsely.

“Always,” Deeks promised, looking over his head at Kensi. “Always.”

[pcprminibigbang]

PCPR Mini Big Bang Fic Claiming Time!

Today’s the daaaaay!

Under the cut, you will find the summaries of the fanfics our Writers have been working on. They have been posted anonymously, labeled only by number.

Artists, go through the summaries carefully and figure out which ones you’d like to work on the most! Please pick three choices and then hop on over to your email to send your fic claiming email to pcprminibigbang@gmail.com! If you are confused as to how this process goes, please check your email inbox for emails Mod has sent concerning the full details on how to claim a fic.

For those not participating in this event, please feel free to read through the summaries as well to get a sneak peek of what our Writers have been working on!

Okay, that’s enough talking from Mod. Here are this event’s fics!!!

FIC #1 : CLAIMED!!!

He shuffles to the door, reaching for his gun just in case before he pulls it open, startling the short man who was waiting on the other side.

"Goddammit, Burger!" Vang0 hisses, leaning a little closer, eyes darting to the sides. "Can I come in?" He asks bluntly, as if they had been talking just a couple minutes ago and this wasn't their first chat in about a week. We're not that codependent.

"Wh- why are you out this late? And with a bag?" He frowns when he sees the uncharacteristic plain green duffle bag hanging from Vang0's shoulder, completely contrasting with the man's clothes, even if this time he went for more subdued colors.

"Let me in and I'll tell you," the blonde retorts as he puts a foot in the corner, ready to push himself inside as soon as Burger gives him room for it.

And Burger can't say no, has never been able to say no to Vang0, so he just rolls to the side and lets Vang0 in before slamming the door closed again.

"Why are you here? Not that I don't appreciate ya visiting, just... it's late and yer carrying a bag," he points out, tilting his head a little. "Y’know you can talk to me, Vang0, right?"

"Y-yeah, that's why I'm here, I-" he pauses, taking a deep breath "I got in trouble, I hacked into something I shouldn't have and I need to lay low for a while"

-

Vang0 Bang0 messed up, big time, he needs help to get off the radar for a while, and of course that his best friend Burger Chainz would help him, and a road trip seems to be the best way to make him drop from the face of earth until things have quieted down. But the empty roads bring nostalgia and an unearths feelings both of them thought deeply buried. They say that road trips change you, why should that be different in the cyberpunk future?

-

Vang0 Bang0/Burger Chainz, getting together fic, Teen rating, no ao3 warnings needed, maybe some minor canon violence. It's a slightly introspective fic, more focused on how Burger realizes some stuff and how he deals with it.

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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FIC #2 : CLAIMED!!!

Turtleneck Heathen Today at 8:15 PM …… did u just ping me to ask if i wore heals

Badass Business Bitch Today at 8:16 PM *heels yes i did and do you?

Turtleneck Heathen Today at 8:17 PM not usually?? ill wear em if its like a big thing or w e i guess (Edited) i mean i havnet really had the oprotuntiy to wear em

Badass Business Bitch Today at 8:19 PM are you intentionally misspelling words to make yourself seem cooler to me?? Vang0 I watched you lick a stranger’s nose

-

Vang0 doesn't remember his birthday. Or his age. Or his interests, his likes, his dislikes, the password to his CollegeBoard account.

(Well, one of those is less important than the others.)

That being said, Burger wants to throw him a birthday party. Dasha is interested, despite herself. A series of assumptions are made, some feelings are hurt, and some lessons are learned.

-

Ships: Vang0/Dasha/Burger if you squint but pretty much a gen fic

Rating: Probably G, bordering maybe on T for swearing

Sensitive content: Canon-typical amnesia, a little bit of angst, some oblique canon-typical gun mentions, maybe a panic attack later in the fic- I haven't quite decided if that's gonna happen or not yet?

Other info: It's a pretty lighthearted fic focusing on the relationship between the three of them! No AU, pretty much just comedy and fun all the way through. I haven't ironed out all the details of what's going to happen yet, but that's gonna stay pretty consistent- there'll be some angstier/less funny bits here and there, of course, though.

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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FIC #3 : CLAIMED!!!

Vang0 chewed his lip, feeling uneasy.

“What’s up, friend? You’ve got a big ol’ frown on your face.”

Vang0 blushed. “I’m not- I’m just- thinking. I mean, Joltik usually travel with their mother Galvantula, and it’s unusual for them to be seen without one, so these ones might have been separated from their mother.”

Burger frowned. “Well, that ain’t good.”

Vang0 nodded. “And Galvantula can get very angry when separated from their young.”

Burger opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by someone yelling loudly.

“BURGER! Burger, where the fuck are you!?”

Vang0 watched as Burger spun around and started towards the basement door.

“Burger!? Are you down here? There’s a huge fucking-”

“No, don’t come down-”

Burger was cut off as the door flew open, and someone catapulted into the basement.

Vang0 stared, eyes wide.

“Burger,” he said, “why the hell is Dapper Dasha in your house?”

-

Seven months ago, Vang0 woke up in a half-destroyed laboratory with no memories of his life before that. He's made something of a life for himself fixing people's technology, because he somehow knows how to do that really well.

And Burger Chainz is just another one of his clients. That is, until it turns out Burger's hiding ex-Pokemon Contest star Dapper Dasha in his house - who hasn't been seen in two years and just so happens to be Vang0's role model.

Vang0 definitely isn't freaking the fuck out. And he definitely isn't falling in love with Burger, either.

-

Vang0 Bang0/Burger Chainz. A Pokémon AU where Burger owns a farm, Dasha is an ex-contest star in hiding, and Vang0 has no clue what's going on. Rating: Teen. Warnings: mentions of blood and violence, nothing explicit

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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FIC #4 : CLAIMED!!!

clink!

clink!

clink!

Vang0 Bang0 jumped in his seat as the van hit a bump in the road, speeding upon the old, graying highway. The trinkets they had collected over their various traveled crashed and banged, one almost hitting the window. The loud trinkets and music blaring from the car stereo didn’t phase Vang0. They weren’t sure where he was going, but it sure wasn’t home.

Vang0 wasn’t focused on the road, he was focused on something...else. It wasn’t the other cars; there weren’t any. Most people stayed in Night City, so the roads weren’t full a lot, he knew that. But this road doesn't have anything, anything that would ever prove that anyone had ever existed near here. Not even a bottle.

-    

After an eventful drive, Vang0 Bang0 finds themself on a beach with no discernable exits. No stairs, no ladders, not even a boat. Confused, Vang0 comes to terms with what he’s found in Night City, and what they’ve lost along the way. (Also they/he pronoun Vang0 rights)

-

There are no ships in this fic. I am likely to rate it Teen and Up audiences, since while there is no explicit or intentionally upsetting content, it might get a little sad at times. I’m not 100% sure about the exact direction my fic is going to go, there might be a car crash (not to graphically described, Vang0 is not hurt very badly, since this is [spoilers] a dream or metaphor about Vang0 coming to terms with memory loss). And since it is a dream sequence with no clear exit, this may be an unreality situation.

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: Only minor Artists can claim this fic.

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FIC # 5 : CLAIMED!!!

Upon Burger barging into Dasha’s bedroom and announcing that he got tick- stop screaming Vang0, it’s just me, got tickets to a film festival tonight, are you guys in, Vang0 informed him that they had “a job tonight, Burger, did you even check the zoogle calendar, we’ll go tomorrow or something,” and no, of course Burger hadn’t checked the calendar, that’s Dasha’s job, and sure we can get tickets for tomorrow too but the Winston Rider film is only showing tonight and I thought you guys might be interested -- “Winst- do you mean Winona Ryder?” -- and after about five minutes of schedule comparisons Dasha simply shoved Vang0 out of the bed and declared that she was going to the movie with Burger, Vang0 was finishing their job, and Burger was going to make her some coffee because “it’s too fucking early for this” even though personally, Burger thought 11:00am was a perfectly reasonable time to be awake -- he was probably missing something, or maybe Dasha had just been up late, Vang0 was definitely a blanket hog and Burger knew from experience that sharing a bed with them would be more likely to result in a semi-conscious tug of war than a decent night’s sleep -- so Vang0 got up to do their job and Burger went and made some coffee and Dasha relocated to the couch, where she downed the coffee and some eggs and promptly fell back asleep for another three hours.

-

Burger loved Dasha, of course he did, he loved spending time with her and he thought she was beautiful and the idea that they might be dating -- might have been dating for a while -- sat warm and comfortable in his chest, but, except, it just was that, he hadn’t realized that how they interacted might be how two people that were dating behaved, he was just hanging out with his friend, he did stuff like this with Vang0 all the ti- -- now wait, wait a second, now hang on just a second --

a.k.a. 5 times Burger missed the point +1 time he caught a clue

-

Dapper Dasha/Vang0 Bang0/Burger Chainz, Rating: Teen, content warnings for implied violence, drinking, implied sexual content

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: Only adult Artists can claim this fic.

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FIC # 6 : CLAIMED!!!

“What is this? What’s going on? Why am I dressed like I’m straight?” Vang0 hisses, gesturing to everything around him and the wrongness of it all.

“Seriously?” Candella rolls her eyes, unimpressed. “You couldn’t have scheduled your existential work breakdown until after our shift? You don’t see my lesbian ass complaining while I’m on the clock, do you?”

“I—What? Am I speaking another fucking language? You answered none of my questions!”

“Yeah because it’s 9am and the morning rush just ended so I do not have enough energy to indulge just,” Candella gestures at all of Vang0. “whatever is going on with you right now.”

“What’s going on with me right now is that I’ve found myself in a bougie caffeine establishment fever dream that just so happens to have the shittiest store playlist in the history of ever.” Vang0 says, bordering on manic as he looks up at the ancient speaker up in the corner of the shop. “Seriously, what is this terrible song?”

“Hey, Soul Sister by Train.” Candella still, amazingly, does not look alarmed or worried.

-

Or the one where Vang0 is a barista at Zero and One’s Cafe...except he’s not.

This isn’t his fucking job, this isn’t his fucking life, and it takes a quick look around the horrifyingly low tech coffee shop he’s in and the fact that he’s missing a USB port on his neck to be painfully aware that this isn’t his fucking universe. This is a 2010s over idealistic portrayal of adult mundanity that he and his friends are stuck in and Vang0 has to get them all out of this nightmare before he commits customer service acts of violence.

Bring it on, Coffee Shop AU. Bring. It. On

-

Dapper Dasha/Vang0 Bang0/Burger Chainz. An absurd existential romantic comedy where the trio somehow get transported into a Coffee Shop AU against their wills. Rating: Teen. Content warnings for slight absurd horror and canon typical violence.

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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FIC # 7 : CLAIMED!!!

“That guy in my english class,” Dasha could hear through the speakers the distinct sound of combat boots stepping on cement. What was Vang0 doing outside at this time, alone? “The one I told you about! Burger-” “The one you’ve been crushing on for months and you’re too much of a coward to ask out?” Dasha already knew everything about this guy, Vang0 saw him on the first day of senior year in his english class and he hadn’t shut up about him ever since. 5’10, large and muscular shoulders, nice to everyone and just dense enough that everytime he said something you would automatically think “wow… thank fuck you’re attractive,” but not in an irritating way, you know? Vang0 exhaled, which Dasha interpreted as a yes. “Well I couldn’t ask him out even if i wanted to,” “Huh?” Dasha could hear the cogs in her own brain turning, trying to process what was being said to her. “Because he’s dating a blonde g-” she heard Vang0 stop on his steps and his tone becoming more dry, “are you even listening to what I’m saying?” Dasha yawned audibly and tried sitting up again. This time she succeeded, “yeah, yeah, I’m listenin’. How did you find out about this and why did you decide to call me at nearly 2 am instead of just waiting until tomorrow?” “I followed them and I saw them talking.” “You’ve lost it.” - Dasha received a call from Vang0 at 1:47 am one saturday night, and everything went downhill from there. They were not friends, she couldn’t understand why Vang0 acted like they were, but they weren’t, because Dasha didn’t have any friends. Except that, when she sees Vang0 struggling, for the first time in 18 years of life she decides that maybe this one idiot is worth getting soft over. And so she helps him bleach his hair over a cup of coffee and a can of Spunky Monkey. Because why the fuck not. - Main pairing is platonic Vang0/Dasha, background ship is Vang0/Burger. The whole story is from Dasha’s POV. Genre is just a very typical teen romance story except that it’s focused more on platonic bonding rather than the actual romance. Vang0 calls Dasha late at night, tells her he wants to bleach his long dark curly hair and cut his bangs after seeing Burger with a blonde girl, and he goes to her place. She helps him do the deed in her bathroom (she’s still elite) as they realize how much they care about each other. Initially inspired by that one scene in Scott Pilgrim where Knives Chau dyes her hair. Rating: general audiences, content warnings: lots of swearing, implied addiction/addiction enabling, shoplifting mention. CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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FIC # 8 : CLAIMED!!!

vang0 officially disappears on march 23rd, 2040. exact time unknown, but whatever conspires that morning takes place before burger wakes up.

if he’s being honest with himself; he’s seen it coming for a little while now. vang0 isn’t the routine type, he’s young and whip smart and drinks so much redbull that the stuff must pump through his veins.

burger’s an old dog. older than vang0 by at least 2 years, he’s sure. he doesn’t have much, and god doesn’t that sound cliche, but he’s stupid and optimistic- and really. he must’ve known somewhere that the kid wouldn’t stay. he’s got a nasty drug habit that burger cant support and a look in his eyes like he wants the world- burger cant even buy him a fake ID.

this happens sometimes, the coming and going. vang0’ll disappear for a week if he’s lucky, a month if he’s not, but never longer than that.

no use crying over spilled milk.

-

vang0 goes missing, burger velmently pretends nothing is wrong until he doesnt, and dasha has to pick up the pieces.

-

missing person fic, burger/dasha/vang0 implied, but nothing explicitly mentioned or talked about, drug use mentioned, mature, canon typical violence, kidnapping, and other canon typical shit- it is night city after all lmao, kind of introspective, alot of burger just thinking back on his relationship w vang0 and shit, but there is some plot as well ig

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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FIC # 9: CLAIMED!!!

“Anyway, dude, what’s up? Or did you just come over for a cola because you ran out of your own?”

“Oh, right,” Vang0 says. He is still thinking about the man, and Dasha, and Dasha and that man, and Dasha’s long fingers and Dasha’s hair falling over her face as she purses her lips and blows upwards, her breath scattering strands of brown hair around her sharp cheekbones. “Um, there was something on the forum, I think - I think there’s a thing. For us. Should we call Burger?”

“Oh, Burger’s here,” Dasha says. “Somewhere. Burger!” she yells.

“Burger - but he spent the night?” Vang0 says, brain processing too slow somehow.

Dasha doesn’t respond.

“Did you -”

“Have a threesome?” Dasha asks, in her usual blunt way. Her face is pretty expressionless, eyes severe under the liner and blinking less than a person should, but Vang0 knows her pretty well, he can see the corners of her mouth turning up. That means she thinks something is funny. “I don’t think so. Burg!” she calls over her shoulder. “Did we?”

-

When Vang0 sees a JumpTrash post about vandalism at a club down town, he figures it will be an easy job for the trio - find out who did it, have Burger intimidate them, done. But things are more complicated than they seem, and the gang ends up drawn into a complex scheme involving the Brotherhood of the Screaming Abyss, conspiracies and hit men, and people from their past they thought were long gone. Along the way, they'll have to decide what they want out of this job - and what they want from each other....

-

This is basically an elaborate CAPER, with a bunch of feelings and shit thrown in. It's a job and then it's a crime story! Its kind of a noir? Can I write a noir? WE"LL FIND OUT. It's gonna be fairly long assuming I can get my act together and put in all i want to put in. Like every good story, it's got plot and whatnot but the plot is just a fulcrum around which to wrap some found family polyamory shit, baby. It's Vang0/Dasha/Burger, duh and it takes them a minute to get there but they'll get there! Its gonna have canon-typical violence, basically - none of the trio die or anything, but other people do, and there's blood. There's gonna be a sex scene because I'm not an AMATEUR. Drug use, too, but mostly in happy fun ways. I haven't fully sussed out some of the flashbacks, but probably some oblique references to past traumas, probably Vang0. Nothing explicit, no reliving events or anything. Also i'm 1000 years old, be warned!

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: Only adult Artists can claim this fic.

[argylemnwrites]

Seven Year Itch

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x MC (Cassie Vanderfield)

Book: Open Heart (6 years after the end of Book 1)

Word Count: ~1500

Rating: PG

Summary: Bryce finds himself unusually sentimental as a large chapter in his life draws to a close.

Author’s Note: Written for Day 31 of the Choices July Challenge (prompt - Endings). This was an anon request, and hopefully it is as fluffy as they were hoping for!

Bryce pushed the arrow button several times before landing on the option that he’d rarely used over the past seven years. He hovered for a moment before pushing the select button twice. His pager was officially off.

He hadn’t expected it to be emotional. He’d even gone so far as to tease Cassie when she’d told him it would be that morning.

“I’m telling you, Bryce, it’s a big deal. Sienna and I cried.”

“Cassie, you didn’t even leave Edenbrook for fellowship!”

“It was still emotional, Bryce. It’ll be your last moment as a resident.”

“Yeah, somehow I don’t think I’m gonna get all torn up over not having to carry the first call pager or having to work 30 hours straight for $15 an hour.”

Those had been his words, yet here he was, feeling a wave of sadness wash over him as he entered the Graduate Medical Education office, ID badge and now turned-off pager in hand. As he walked over to the desk of the administrative assistant, she gave him a warm smile.

“Last shift, huh? Congratulations, doctor!” she said brightly, extending her hands out, taking two of the objects he’d carried with him everywhere for the past seven years and dropping them in a box on her desk.

“Anything else you need from me?”

“You already turned in any hospital scrubs?”

He nodded. He’d taken care of that last month, after his last operation. The past four weeks had been a medical education elective, and he hadn’t seen the inside of an OR at all.

“Then you’re all set!”

So, that was it. He was done with residency. Seven years wrapped up, just like that, with the handing off of a pager and an ID badge. It felt like it should take more than a simple drop off to bring this part of his life to an end. But that was all it took to transition from Bryce Lahela, surgical resident to Bryce Lahela, surgical oncology fellow. 

Bryce usually wasn’t one for introspection, but damn if Cassie hadn’t been right. He did feel emotional over it all, and as he got on the T, he couldn’t help but think back on the past seven years and everything that had happened. 

He remembered the surgeries, all his time in the OR. All the cases he’d scrubbed in on, the incisions he’d made, the tumors he debulked, the organs he procured. He remembered the doctors he’d worked with and learned from, some of them brilliant attendings, others his own peers. He remembered his patients. Not all of them, of course, but there were the ones that stuck with him. The ones he’d saved against all odds. The ones he’d lost in spite of his best effort.

And that didn’t even touch on everything that had happened to him in his personal life over the past seven years. Meeting Cassie. Buying their loft together. Sliding that ring onto her finger. Getting married and starting a family. Things he would have never anticipated when he opened that envelope on Match Day and saw he was going to Edenbrook.

He knew he wouldn’t be where he was today without her. She’d always thanked him for his unconditional support, but Bryce knew that street went both ways. Sure, he’d been there for her through a lot of drama during their intern year, but she’d paid that back ten times over, at least. From her ranking Edenbrook first when she was applying for fellowships so that they wouldn’t have to do long distance to her enthusiasm when he told her that he was going to go for surgical oncology, even though that meant two years of research before his fellowship. From her paying down his student debt once she started earning an attending salary to her covering the cost of all of his fellowship applications. And then, when he’d matched not at Edenbrook or Dana-Farber as they had hoped, but at Duke, she’d applied for a North Carolina medical license, even when she found out none of the diagnostics teams around Durham were hiring at that time. She was willing to uproot her life, move from Boston, and take a job that was not an ideal fit, all so that he could pursue the training he wanted.

As he got off the T at the stop a few blocks from their loft, he realized how strange it was going to be to leave Boston. He never really thought about Boston as his home, but now that the movers were coming tomorrow afternoon, he knew how much he would miss it. The restaurants, the museums and history, their neighborhood, their friends. Hell, he might even miss the winters. Even though he still said he was from Hawaii, Boston held more precious memories for him than any other place. And never was that more clear than when he stepped through the door of their loft, taking in the chaos.

Boxes were everywhere, stacked along the walls, piled in the middle of the living space, covering the table and the couch. But even with everything that was already packed, there was still so much left to do. The kitchen cabinets were all thrown open, and there was still a lot of shit in them. One of the bookcases by the window was still completely full. And far too many of Kendall’s toys were still scattered across the floor.

Bryce had never thought he’d be one to get sentimental over something like moving out of a place, but the birth of his daughter had changed all that. Now, instead of seeing a nice space that was a convenient commute to Edenbrook, the loft represented so much more. It was the first home that Kendall had known, even though she probably wouldn’t remember anything about it. It was where he’d first seen her smile, first heard her laugh, first watched her walk, first heard her call him “Dada” as she reached for him. And the thought of leaving that place behind was just a little sad.

As if his thoughts summoned her, she came toddling out of the master bedroom, making a beeline for a box in the corner that hadn’t been taped shut yet. She nearly fell over as she peered inside, but kept her balance for long enough to pull out her stuffed octopus before falling down on her butt.

“Hey baby girl, I think Momma had that packed up for a reason,” he said, scooping her up. She smiled at him, but immediately started crying when the octopus slipped out of her hands, tumbling to the ground. At that sound, Cassie came out of the bedroom herself, relief evident on her face when she saw him.

“Thank god you’re home. I ran out of strapping tape three hours ago, and she figured out which boxes have her toys. She’s been unpacking all afternoon,” she blurted out, dropping a kiss on his cheek as she brushed past him, picking up the octopus and returning it to the box.

“I think I can handle a tape run. You want me to take her with me? I can bring back some pizza, too.”

She smiled warmly at him. “You’re a saint.”

“That’s a new one. Hero, godsend, world’s greatest, sure, but never a saint. I’m pretty sure that requires approval from the pope.”

She rolled her eyes as she brought the stroller over to him, “I’m not gonna dignify that with a response. Pick up some more bubble wrap, too. I have the feeling we’ll run out at 2 am if you don’t.”

“You think it’ll be an all-nighter, then?”

Cassie sheepishly gestured around, “I mean, don’t you? There’s still a ton to do. Sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s fine. Not like we both haven’t pulled worse for work.”

“I know, I know. But this isn’t the way you should be celebrating the end of residency. We should be getting a sitter, hitting up Donahue’s one last time.”

Bryce shrugged. Sure, seven years ago, that’s probably how he would have pictured his last night as a resident, enjoying one last drunken hurrah with his co-residents. But now, he couldn’t imagine wanting to spend this night with anyone other than his wife and kid. 

“Probably shouldn’t have knocked you up if bar nights were that important to me.” She raised her eyebrows and opened her mouth to make a retort, but Bryce just shook his head. “I still get to spend my first night of freedom with two ladies, so I think I’m doing just fine.” She laughed at that, the sound echoing more than usual now that so many of their pillows, rugs, and curtains had been packed away. 

“Alright, Kendall. One last Boston adventure?” he asked, snapping her into the stroller.

Pushing her down the sidewalk, he decided to embrace this evening’s wave of sentimentality. It was only natural to feel emotional as his time in Boston came to an end. His life had changed so much, nearly entirely for the better, over the past seven years. And while he would miss the life he and Cassie had built here, he knew that no matter where the next seven years took them, whether they stayed in North Carolina or moved on after his fellowship, that they would make the best of things. Together.

Tags: @omgjasminesimone @mfackenthal @lilyofchoices @thequeenchoices @octobereighth @feartheendlesssummer @tallulahshh @fortunatelywaywardsandwich @dreaming-of-movies @choicesarehard @pinkcoloredmarshmallow @kinda-iconic @choicesjulychallenge

[sheithauzine]

Stargazing Zine Contributor Spotlight

Get to know the contributors that are a part of Stargazing: a Sheith AU Fanzine!  Last, but not least, is @fishingclocks​, who did a “Finest Hours” AU fic!

As a reminder, you only have a little over 24 hours to grab your own copy of Stargazing!

Willow

“Through context clues, I've decided that 'Shut your quiznack' means 'Shut your fuck', and I think that's beautiful.”

fishingclocks on AO3 @fishingclocks​ on Tumblr

So, even I, a semi-recovered Chris Pine fangirl, hadn’t heard of Finest Hours until you pitched this fic idea.  It’s definitely not very well-known or the sort of thing you’d commonly see done as an AU, and arguably a challenging genre as well.  Why was it that you decided to go with this instead of something more traditional?

So there's a couple answers to this. The first is a preference for my Sheith fic that's pretty personal - I just really like fics where they're pilots? No matter the setting - in spaceships or on a dingy - I feel like Keith and Shiro belong on ships. And this fic is basically intrinsically tied to ships. The real reason, though, is that I just like to tread off the beaten path with my AUs. I adore tropey fic, but I feel like I don't have the mind to take something someone else has already done and make it my own. So for me, that sort of AU almost is traditional!

You have done some unusual (and awesome) AUs before, that’s for sure.  I’ve been familiar with (and loved) your work before you joined Stargazing, and so much of it is very long!  You might have stepped outside of your comfort zone for this project, but you definitely nailed it.  What challenges did you run into while trying to tell a story within a zine’s shorter word count, and (for those of us who struggle with it, too), do you have any advice for downsizing?

Yeah, for me, the hard part is always telling a complete story while also setting limitations for yourself. I always like having lots of dialogue in my pieces, and because I like to keep a close third-person POV, I like to include moments of introspection to move the story forward, rather than have plot points do all the work. The way I've started practicing, I pick out the most important moment in a scene - the main plot reason it's there, because in a short fic all of your scenes should have a reason in the plot to be there - and center all action in the scene around it. That way, all of your scenes are direct, intentional, and yet they do what you need them to do. And it doesn't only have to be plot driven either - you can center the scene around a thematic concept, or a character interaction - as long as there's constant forward momentum to some end goal in the scene!

Despite being in the Voltron fandom for a while, this has been your first foray into writing a full Sheith fanfic, correct?  What was it like, coming in and beginning to make your mark creatively on this fandom, with this ship you’ve been sailing for some time?

Honestly, it's been terrifying! I mean, no, that's not the right word, but it was definitely something that intimidated me. To be totally honest, I swore that I would never write any Voltron fic - I feel like there's so much I don't know, and that there's so many better authors than me, the fandom doesn't need me. In the beginning, I didn't really ship anything except Allura and I, so I thought I would just sit it out. And then all at once, my friends introduced me to the wonder that is Sheith, and I was a lost cause. I still don't feel like I know enough or am involved enough in the fandom to write anything but fun AUs, but I've been broken. For over a year I've been writing small fics for them - little character interaction explorations, just to figure out their dynamic and get a fix of fluff - and with this Stargazing fic, I'm officially making my first real, exciting step into the fandom!

We’re definitely glad to have you here, that’s for sure!  And finally, the most important question of all: if you could choose to live in any AU, limited only by your imagination, which would it be?

I actually don't have to give this any thought at all! Remember those Moon and Sun AUs that were popular about a year ago? One character is the moon, one character is the sun, and in some AUs they live in a stylized version of space, and in others they rule over a kingdom, of sorts, one dark blue and silver, the other yellows and oranges and reds. I would love to be the Sun! The costumes in these AUs are always so lavish, and the Sun designs are always just stunning. What I wouldn't give to be constantly surrounded by warm sunset colors, draped in yards and yards of fabric - and also with this AU comes the standard romance with the Moon, and I personally feel like it's my destiny to be the Moon's girlfriend, so that would work out very nicely.

You can pick up your own copy of Stargazing here!  All profits will go to the Center for Victims of Torture.

[valkyrieelysia18]

(Magic Academia) Introduction to the Elements

"I hope you know exactly what it is that you're getting into."

Oscar involuntarily gulped. Of all the people who had to be helping him with this particular lesson, it had to be Weiss. Not that he thought she was a bad person (far from it), but she wasn't exactly what he thought of when he thought of a good tutor/teacher.

Granted, he'd been hoping to spend some more time with Ruby, but he was pretty sure that almost any of the others in the group would have been better at this. Well, maybe not Nora, but other than that....

Weiss' glare sharpened as her volume rose. "Are you listening to me?!"

Oscar straightened up at attention, the two of them of them completely alone in the study room at the dorms that the ice mage had commandeered for this study session. "Sorry, won't happen again!"

The white haired girl observed him before she sighed. "Look, I know that we're not the closest and you're still getting used to all of this, but it's really important that you understand the differences between the elements."

The former farm boy sighed. "I know, I know." Considering I pretty much displayed all seven elements when I got here despite having no clue how that is possible.

"So long as you understand. Now, what did you know about elemental magic before coming to Beacon?"

He scratched his head trying to remember. "Well, I knew of the four main elements: water, earth, fire, and air. Granted, that was because I was an Avatar fan..."

Weiss groaned, sitting down next to him and opening a rather large book for him to see a rather intricate magical circle with seven border points. "You and Ruby are impossible. Anyway, this is the Wizard's Great Glyph; one of the most recognizable symbols to reference the seven magical elements. They are by clockwise in this picture: fire, water, earth, air, light, dark, and lightning. Every magic user is tied to one of these elements. Well, with some exceptions....."

Oscar resisted the urge to laugh nervous and got into questions. "Yeah, well I'm not sure how this is going to work for me either."

She observed him slightly before giving her own assessment. "As someone who has the ability to learn all seven elements, I think it would be best for you to least learn the basics of each element. The downside to that is you might end up a 'jack of all trades, master of none' type when it comes to elemental magic."

"Is that a bad thing?"

Weiss shook her head. "Not necessarily, but it means you probably will not be able to learn the more higher tier spells or develop a specialization. For example, I am a water mage, or as some would call me an Aquamancer. As such, I know a wide variety of different water spells, but I'm specializing in ice spells in particular. So I would learn a spell like Blizzard while another aquamancer that specializes in water's liquid form would learn Tidal Wave."

The young man sighed, his brain already starting to hurt. "It all sounds complicated to me."

"Well, let's start with some of the more basic details about the elements and we'll work our way from there. As I saying, most people have only one element and it's quite common for children to have the same element as one of their parents. For example my mother, my sister, and myself are water mages. However, this isn't always the case."

Oscar nodded, remembering a conversation from not too long ago. "Yeah, I remember Jaune saying that each of his sisters had a different elemental magic. That must have been something."

Weiss nodded as well, her eyes somewhat dimmed at that thought. "And I'm pretty sure that's one of the reasons Jaune hasn't really been in contact with his family since coming to Beacon. I know what it's like to have one sister as an example, I can't imagine what it's been like for him."

The farm boy agreed with her. "Has there ever been an example of a mage who hasn't had an element affinity?"

She shook her head. "Not according to history, but let's focus on one unique situation at a time and today we're on your lessons. From what I understand about it, an person's element can reflect something about their nature or personality.'

"Really?"

"Yes, when you meet a bunch of different mages that have the same element, you tend to notice they share similar traits. That isn't to say that your element dictates these things, there are many who differ from what's expected, but you should probably have a general idea of what to expect from them."

Oscar nodded, for some reason feeling more interested than he felt he should have been by Weiss Schnee's analysis. "Alright."

"First off are fire mages or pyromancers. Those that have this element are very emotional, passionate people. They are risk takers, thriving on adrenaline, and while not as precise as the other elements their raw power is often enough to destroy their enemies and leave utter destruction in their wake."

He resisted the urge to laugh. "Well, if that isn't Yang to a T, I don't know what is."

Weiss rolled her eyes before getting back on topic. "Tell me about it. Anyway, next is water. Water is often said to be the most graceful of the elements, but it is also the element of adaptability. Having to work with both liquid and solid forms, aquamancers need to be aware of their surroundings and be able to flow and change their style to suit the battle itself. Like myself, that doesn't mean that they start out that way. More often than not, they need to learn to adapt.

"Then there are the earth mages or geomancers. They are practically stone walls, taking immense damage onto themselves while outlasting their opponents. They tend to be the strong, silent types that only say something when they think its necessary."

Oscar considered that description a bit. "Huh....that  really doesn't sound like Pyrrha."

She nodded. "I know, I was surprised as well, but like I said not every mage is going to be like this. I just find that most are. Next are the air mages or aeromancers. Out of the seven elemental types, they're actually most rare, but also tend to be the most creative. They're often free spirits, often doing their own thing, and using it to catch their opponents off guard. Goodness knows, Ruby's plans can be a bit...out there at times."

The young man perked up in interest. "What kind of plans?"

"I'll tell you some of them later. Moving out the main four, now we come to the more unusual elements. These ones don't really have mancer title that's used frequently like the first four. Light mages can learn offensive spells, but their primary role is that of a healer. They tend to be good support, both on the battlefield and off of it. Often times, they are the more calm and earnest types, serving as the literal heart of a group."

Oscar nodded, Ren's temperate nature did seem to line up with being a light mage. "Then there's dark mages."

"Correct, granted they do tend to get a bad reputation considering how their magic works. Like light mages, dark mages can also learn offensive spells with their element, but their primary magic works by inflicting it directly on their opponents. Whether it be healing themselves by stealing their enemies' energy, gaining more aura in the same way, or inflicting temporary status ailments, dark mages tend to face a lot of scrutiny and suspicion by those who don't have magic. They tend to be quiet introspective loners, but just because darkness is their element, it doesn't make them evil."

"Blake's proof of that."

"Exactly, then there's the final element of lightning. Lightning is perhaps the most difficult element to control. In fact, some lighting users can be even more reckless than most fire mages. People who are lightning mages tend to be very strong and energetic in order to channel it properly. They can sometimes come as a little eccentric, but at their heart are mostly good people."

Oscar wisely chose not to think too much on that with Nora before glancing down at the picture. His eyes were somehow drawn to the circle in the center with a strangely familiar rune. In addition, it seemed as if the other elemental circles seemed to connect to this other circle.

For some strange reason, he felt himself point to the detail and ask before he really thought about it. "Hey, what's this for?"

Weiss's eyes followed where he was pointing before rolling. "Oh, that is a fairy tale."

And if Oscar's interest wasn't piqued before, it sure was now. "A fairy tale?"

"That's the symbol for Divine, the fabled eighth element. Some crazy myths aside, there's no evidence to suggest that divine mages every existed or what a divine mage would even be capable of doing. In my opinion, the symbol is probably just to symbolize magic as a whole rather a completely different element."

Despite her words, the young man's hazel eyes lingered on the symbol. "If you say so..."

Weiss cleared his throat to get his attention, which worked and then she went on. "Now that you bit more about the elements, where do you think you should start? I know Jaune is helping you with the general stuff, but you're going to need someone to help you with elemental magic."

Oscar pondered that thought for a while before finally answering. "Well, if I had to start anywhere, I suppose I would prefer earth magic. I guess it's the farm boy in me, but I guess I feel more connected to the earth and land than the other elements right now."

She nodded with a smile, flipping the book a coupel of pages until it reached the earth section. "Understandable. Besides, Pyrrha is probably the best to get you started. Until then, here's some things you should read to get started...."

Yes, I used the Legend of Dragoon when thinking up the magic for this story. And I'm not sorry, it's a really good game and it's a shame they never made a sequel. This whole thing is a little exposition dump. Don't we all love those?

Oh boy Volume 5. You've somewhat destroyed some of my headcanons.  Some of which were connected to my Crown's Proving AU (which if I write I will need to fix). Oh well, them's the works.

Next time, I think I will do something with Summer and Qrow, but before that I need to go back to Fan Fiction and please my Star Wars fans. Pray for me.

[kamatacatering]

EVERYTHING IS GOOD FOREVER | Jun'ya | Chapter 4 | OPEN

Holy fucking shit you guys it’s happening. It’s happening. I honest to god was not expecting this and neither was Jun’ya but IT’S HAPPENING. Objectively this floor is the best floor, and now you have to all stop saying he’s doing all these murder hits to try and unlock the kitchen because it exists now and nothing hurts anymore. I don’t think it even needed to be said, really, that everything else is absolutely irrelevant and this room is the only one that matters even a little bit, and if you didn’t think he was going to go here right the fuck away then you haven’t been paying attention. A pink-and-white book rested on a table, out of the way of the general workspace (bringing the other one would have been redundant and would have only served to take up more space, after all!) and he’s just. He’s just so fucking happy right now because this is real and finally at LAST can do the talenty thing. It’s been a nondescript-but-fairly-short amount of time and yet it’s already pretty obvious he’s been busy. I mean, yeah, people are inevitably gonna be drawn to that ~*sicknasty talent-based alluring aroma*~ but. Dude’s just made a thing and the first satisfactory meal he’s had in [insert elapsed time in-world here as it’s relatively ambiguous when compared to our real-life timeline] so let him be happy.

Of course, this was a spur-of-the-moment, impulsive decision. Now having actual access to all of this everything, there was no question that at some point in the hopefully near future he’d ABSOLUTELY have to coordinate something for everyone, do a proper job of it, make sure there would be something to everyone’s personal liking. But in the present moment, the familiarity of going through the motions, the all-too-well known sights, scents, and sounds, was doing absolute wonders to raise his own spirits. And on top of finally being able to cook for himself again, he finally had the time to buckle down and work on something he was a little less experienced in. Within the pages of the dessert book complete with suggestions for further improvement, was a recipe for what sounded like one hell of a strawberry cake. Simple? Perhaps in comparison to the higher end of his repertoire, but god damn if it didn’t sound appealing. It said that it served anywhere from 8-12, and for the briefest of moments the thought that it wouldn’t be enough for everyone was there, but like… seven people have definitely died. Not only would it be enough, there could ostensibly be some left over.

Christ.

Yeah let’s not think about that any more and just work on getting that cake in the oven huh. Worst case it doesn’t turn out as good as it could, yeah? Just more practice for the actual real thing that’s actually going to count for something and not this experimental nonsense which is still totally gonna be fantastic just maybe not the most fantastic that it could potentially be. It’s a surprisingly nice change of pace to not be juggling who knows how many different things (which, while of course is something he’s damn well capable of, thank you very much, can get to be quite repetitive) and just refine skills more focusedly. Not really worth the whole ‘still trapped in murder hell and seven people are dead’ thing in the grand scheme of things, but hey, gotta look on the bright side! There’s going to be a strawberry cake in an hour and a bit or so! The only problem is, it’d take someone who has a higher degree of word mastery (or baking knowledge) than I do to make the process of introspecting on cake batter interesting to read, so you’re just gonna have to take my word on it happening. Maybe there’s some contented humming during the process? Sure, why not. You fucks were probably expecting me to sneak in a Lazytown cooking by the book meme in here, but I’m above that. I might not have much, y’all, but I have some dignity left. All that needs to be said is that there is an unusually enthusiastic caterer who is currently absolutely engrossed in making this cake after eating thos food, and that I could have probably summarized this entire post with that last sentence. But that wouldn’t have been Rossesque whatsoever.

[debbychaudhuri-blog]

The love

……..”The love, that ever died, is the love that never existed.”

……“It’s been twenty years, gosh has it really been that long! How have you been? Married yet or still the independent career women with nothing to tie you down?” asked Mr. Sinha, breaking through the silence of the lonely night. “Been good”, was all that Ms. Sharma answered, wearing ‘that’ sweet everlasting smile. “How is Sheetal? And everyone else?” she spoke again, still wearing ‘that’ smile. “Oh nice, everyone’s nice back home”, as he spoke, he looked at her for the first time, first time that night, first time in twenty years, since they last met. Tonight they ran into each other accidentally, miles away from their homeland, in a posh North American hotel. Ms.Sharma and Mr. Sinha, both here for the same International Business Conference Meet, were in the hotel lobby after the meet…when they came face to face with their respective pasts. …“You still look ‘that’ stunning”, said the man, staring at her face, as ‘the moments’ flashed through his mind.   “Oh please! I’m just an old woman now” and she looked at him, with eyes wide open. She only saw the shadow of the vibrant boy he was, ages ago, it seemed. The boy she ever loved…. But no she wasn’t just an old woman to him. She was what no other girl could have ever been to him. Those eyes, that he had always admired, were still ‘that’ expressive! He looked into them trying to read them….He remembered that this was what he loved to do, once. He remembered the joy he found in them, the love that was evident… He noticed a few wrinkles under the eyes... they looked really tired. She really looked a million dollars in a black office-suit, as pretty as ever. But even the all decked up look was not enough to hide the hollowness in her eyes. It seemed that anyone could take a sneak-peek at the vast emptiness in her life, through her eyes… “Nice watch there...Rolex?” said Ms. Sharma, quickly looking down, feeling hugely uncomfortable with ‘that’ gaze. “Yeah, Sheetal gifted this to me last anniversary. Rolex and Vintage”, said he. “Ah! such a lucky man.” she retorted, still looking down. …..”Lucky man? Who decides what is lucky? Who decides who is lucky?” Mr. Sinha thought in his mind “lucky is when you can have your arms around the lady you love. Lucky is when you get loved by the one you love”, and before he knew it he said aloud “Getting expensive but worthless gifts from a person who is nothing but a shadow in your life is not lucky! Never! ” …Tonight they were taking a stroll at the post midnight hotel lawn, stars watching over them from the farthest heavens. Many such evenings had they spent together before, hand in hand, matching steps together, talking, laughing, and kissing away… But this moment, it’s so similar yet so different. Mr. Sinha looked closely. Ms. Sharma didn’t walk ‘that’ walk anymore. It seemed like two familiar strangers, separated by many a light years, walked side by side…… Moments of uneasy silence later she spoke,”I’m sorry I didn’t mean….” …..”Lucky is when you are at the brink of making the worst blunder of your lifetime but somehow you are stopped “he thought to himself, while all that Ms. Sharma was telling seemed to blur out . “Lucky is when you run to hold back your love when she is walking away.” he kept thinking in his mind…and again without any conscious attempt he spoke “Lucky would be the moment when I married you and changed this life forever.”…For a moment everything stopped. Nothing moved, neither the two lonely souls, nor their earthly feet… Sometimes a single moment of recklessness can cost someone all his happiness, then and forever after. Just one moment of hatred can turn into endless lovelessness. After a long silent stare at each others’ faces, in search of answers to a host of age old questions, Ms. Sharma said “Lives have been changed forever. But changes aren’t always the way we want. We have to accept them whatsoever as life should go on anyway.” “Have you accepted it?” said he, looking deeply into her eyes in an attempt to find his answer there. And there it was, in that firm gaze, a loud, clear and most unexpected ‘Yes’. Mr. Sinha, stunned to have received such an unexpected answer, asked immediately “Does that mean you do not love me anymore?” …Their conversation got interrupted by a hotel staff who came searching for Ms. Sharma to tell her that her check out was in an hour. As the staff left, Ms. Sharma said “I’m sorry but I should get going now, I’ll have my car come in shortly. I’m leaving by the 5 o’clock flight.” And she turned back, starting to walk away. “You didn’t answer me!” he said. Ms. Sharma stopped for a second, promptly turned around and looking right into Mr. Sinha’s eyes said “No” and quickly turned and walked away. Mr. Sinha stood there, blankly looking at the silhouette of his embodied dream slowly disappearing in the dark… And there amidst the everlasting darkness, the memories came rushing to him, the memories that have been with him for the past twenty years, perhaps the only bitter-sweet memories of his life that he loved and hated all at once. He sat down where he was standing while he started having the flashback of the days he so wished he could go back to. The days when a certain young lad named Vedant Sinha was head over heels in love with Radha Sharma. How they met for the first time at a common friend’s family event, and how they paper-danced as a couple, and how they had fallen for each other, tip-toe dancing on a paper piece. Right from the first minute he saw her, all he wanted to do was be with her forever after. He remembered how they would run to each other at every little opportunity they got. How they met up just anywhere they could and the uncountable happy moments they had spent together, aimlessly walking around, talking about anything under the sun….He remembered how complete they would be with each other, how unusually happy…….. ”Sir I’m sorry to disturb you but you’ll have to get up now as lawn maintenance shall be underway shortly” said an unknown voice from behind. Mr. Sinha looked back and saw a huge white man with a huge lawn mower standing and staring at him, probably wondering what such an overly well dressed man, wearing a shiny coat, was doing, sitting on the trimmed grass at 4 in the morning. “Of course” he said as he got up and headed for his room. He took the card from the reception, went straight to his room, locked himself up, He set an alarm for 4:45 a.m. and then threw himself on the bed. As he lay there, a feeling of hollowness and self-pity engulfed him, when he started to remember the events that led to this strange fate of that ever strong and undying love… The increasing quarrels, the no-talking phases had become common in the past two years of their togetherness….’Sometimes two people have been together so long and so close, it becomes almost impossible to see the other person anymore…Much like the case with a book which you cannot read once you hold it too close to your eyes’…were the words he read he can’t remember where. “Maybe that is what exactly happened with us.” He said to himself ,”we held each other so close for so long that all we could see was our own projection. We just stopped treating the other person as an individual.” Somewhere in the middle of his introspective and philosophical thoughts, he started feeling pity, for Radha, and most of all for the mess he made of his near-perfect life. He got reminded of Radha’s stunned eyes the second last time he saw her...That was the second time that he had walked away during a heated argument on the road, abandoning her in the middle of nowhere...He had never hated himself this much…Never in the past forty-five years of his life…. And then….the last time he saw her….at his wedding reception, 5months later. He wondered how things turned that way, how he agreed to get married, how he didn’t take her calls for a week, after which she stopped calling. How he never called her back because he didn’t want to stoop in front of a girl anymore. How he dragged a fight so long that its aftermath destroyed everything forever… How he decided that it would be impossible to live with a career-obsessed, stubborn girl like Radha, and walked out on her. He remembered the last time he ever spoke to her was when she called him to congratulate him after receiving his reception invite. How Radha came to his wedding with other friends of his, and her last words echoed in his years “ Best wishes for your new life” with eyes firmly looking into his, as if asking him ‘how could you ever do this’. She looked stunning in a red-white saree, like a mirage, emerging out of nowhere and then vanishing instantly. ‘How could you do this…how could you… how’ he almost fell asleep, when the alarm cried out...almost like telling him ‘wake up from the nightmare and go grab your dream! This is your last chance! ’ He leapt out of the bed, unlocked and quickly ran to the reception to stop Radha. He came down, people all around but there was no sign of his Radha. “Excuse me sir!” he heard someone call out from the back. He turned around and saw that one of the receptionists was gesturing at him, calling him to her station. As he reached the reception the lady enquired if he was Mr. Vedant Kumar Sinha, and then handed him a letter that “the Indian lady who checked out half an hour ago” left for him at the reception deck. For a moment Mr. Sinha felt absolutely nothing. He could not really process what the receptionist told him and he kept standing there. “This way Sir” said the receptionist pointing at the elevator. …..Holding the many pieces he was shattered into, together, Mr. Sinha opened the letter as he entered the elevator, life all around him…but he felt like he was the only one there…everything else was dead for him..Amidst all the noise around and the silence within him, he started reading in his mind…

“Ved,   I know you wanted to see me but I hate goodbyes. Love is an undying emotion. It never leaves us. Its expression might change, just like the people in it do, but that’s that. I have and will always love the Ved that u were, twenty-two years ago, when we first met, no matter what the fate of our love has been. But I can’t love you…a married man with a beautiful family...I do not have the right to… Sometimes some of our decisions change our lives in ways we cannot fathom, like what happened with us. But we have to adapt to the changes whether we like it or not. I am forever yours…I will live forever in your memories. But I want you to get back to the life that you now have... Sheetal is a wonderful lady. Sometimes you have to learn to love someone for good... So should you. You are still stuck with your dreams. Open your eyes and look at the beautiful reality you have. Let go of your past and embrace your present… open your heart to the love of your family… As for me…I am forever in love with the moments we shared and that’s enough for me to live with. But I need you to get on with your life; like I have…accepting whatever happened. Best wishes forever after, Radha...”

As soon as he finished the letter, the elevator’s doors opened. He had reached his destination. As he walked down the corridor, he reached for his wallet. He took a look at the photo of his wife and twin daughters his wife had put in his wallet ages ago…that was the very first time after it was put that he actually looked at it. He had never felt so attached to his family ever before…. He felt far away from home for the first time in twenty years…and much estranged how the ever familiar stranger of his life…his dream made him fall in love again, with his family…with his responsibilities….with his present…with life…and with her memories… “Hello Sheetal…..”He went on, as he entered his room…

~D