"You're a huge idiot," Keith said, winding the bandage around far more forcefully than he really needed to.
Or at least, at least in Lance's opinion, it was far too harsh. No need to yank his shoulder out of its socket while trying to patch up a (so very tiny minor) cut on his arm. "Okay, yeah, tell me again, like I don't know," he replied, rolling his eyes.
"Huge," Keith started. "You are a huge, tremendous, awful, self-destructive, vainglorious--"
"Woah there, buddy, slow down, I was being sarcastic." The words stung about as much as the shot had. Lance's arm was numb now, but that was either his brain overreacting to the pain or whatever it was that Keith had plastered on it as soon as they were safe.
"Idiot. A huge idiot."
Lance grumbled in response.
Keith leveled him with a glare, though the corners of his eyes softened a beat later. When he lowered his eyes, Lance watched the dark lashes fan across his cheeks. But before he could say anything, a thanks or a quip or whatever else would spill out of his mouth, Keith tied off the bandage with a sharp yank that had him rocking on the uneven ground.
It also made him yelp in pain, and he used his good arm to swat Keith away. "Watch it!"
There was a moment's hesitation before Keith let his hands finally drop. But they didn't fall back to his lap. Instead, they fell to Lance's, fingers wrapping tightly around his, as if to hold himself upright. "I'm sorry..." he muttered, soft enough that Lance had to lean in to hear the words.
He could have used that opportunity to gloat. He would have, if the others were around. But for the moment, it was just the two of them. "I am too."
Keith glanced up, surprise, and Lance winced at the fact that him apologizing would be so shocking. "Are you going to be okay?"
"I think so, yeah." Lance closed his eyes and settled back against the outcropping of rock they were tucked beneath. "We really got them good, huh?"
"Yeah, we did." Keith shifted into position beside him, comforting warmth radiating from where their shoulders touched. "You didn't have to put yourself out there like that."
Lance watched the clouds overhead. According to the record log on their suits, they had another forty-five minutes until extraction. Until then, they had to keep watch over the small territory they managed to rescue. "Of course I did. You're faster than I am. I knew I could count on you to get around back and set off the trap."
Keith didn't reply for a long time. Lance rubbed his arm, poking curiously at the bandage. It was clinical, neat. Still throbbed a little from how rough the process had been. When the silence had gone on too long, he looked over.
Keith was watching him, eyes gentle and amused. He met Lance's gaze, then poked the bandage as well. "Have Coran look at that when we're back at the castle."
Lance made a face. "You ruined the moment."
"What moment?"
"We were having a moment."
Keith frowned, looking around, as if trying to find where that moment had gone off to. "We still are having a moment. If anything, you ruined it."
Lance scoffed. "I would never."
"Moment ruiner."
"Take that back!"
"At least you realized a moment for what it was."
"I'm going to shove the extra bandages into your mouth so you will shut up."
Keith's dark eyebrows shot up, and his expression shifted from innocence to something that might have been a little condescending. More than a little condescending.
Not that anything Keith ever did was NOT condescending.
"Idiot," Keith finally repeated, shaking his head, and bumped his shoulder against Lance's.
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hey so, gimmie advice;; my sister's dog lives with me rn and has been for the last six months. i'm the dog's favorite now bc of it but my sister is moving back in a couple weeks and she was pissed as heck at christmas but i don't want to relinquish the dog to her i like being the dog's favorite what do i do
I’ve got just the thing:
teach the dog morse code.
Book a flight to Rome, get new passports (completely made up identities for you and the dog), and take up a job teaching the art of paper mâché. If you don’t have the money, steal it from your sister. If you don’t know the art of paper mâché, don’t worry, your students won’t either.
Cover your tracks! Maybe use plastic leaves, you can find it at the dollar store. And whatever you do, do NOT EVER forget the doggy bag. You don’t want to be a rude dognapper.
Wait maybe four years until you finally contact your sister with an explanation on the dognapping and theft. But don’t just call her. Send it all in a nice little morse coded message. Hope this helps! xx
You probably get messages like this a lot, but I just finished reading Ahsoka! I picked it up at 9pm and it is now some time after 2am. (I'm honestly afraid to look.) I loved every bit of the story. Ahsoka is truly one of the reasons I love Star Wars and the story you told was as wonderful as she is. Thank you so much. I particularly enjoyed every reflection on Obi Wan, Padme, and Anakin. I'm going to dream for the next ten years that maybe, just maybe, this story could someday be a movie.
Thank you! I had so much fun writing the book, and hearing that fans enjoyed reading it is the actual best thing. :)
do the series breakdown of faves for the last original thing you wrote (i guess you could do it about the last fan thing you wrote but i love hearing about your original stuff)
OH WOW I LIKE THIS. and well, my life has been a nonstop ride of sleepers lately, plugging away at it, hating it, scrapping it, starting over, ad infinitum. so, hey, i guess i’ll do that, assuming everyone’s not SICK TO DEATH OF IT BY NOWWWWW (but also because the spotty original things i wrote in between don’t have big enough casts to do this with)
Favorite character: i love writing paul. he’s such a goof but so well intentioned and genuine. but also pretty sad underneath it all, but trying to cover it up with kindness and delight. also dead father issues. fanservice for myself.
Second favorite character: jamilah is sweet, and a little ditzy sometimes when it comes to feelings, and always cheerful, and definitely the most likely to be really into anime in a Modern AU. she’s the heart, the shining light, the anchor. and she can manifest pink shields from her desire to protect her friends.
Least favorite character: look i love keiko and the idea of what she could be, might be, but she just will not cooperate. i cannot write her dialogue in a way that’s interesting. it’s driving me insane.
The character I’m most like: oho. ohohoho. anyone who knows me and reads this if i ever finish it is probably gonna look at carol springer and be like, “wow”
Favorite pairing: carol/paul because they are the complete summary of every one of my biases, trope-wise, and jamilah/keiko because i wasn’t expecting that to be a thing but the more i develop the more it becomes a thing.
Least favorite pairing: dorothy/theo, it makes me sad, i make myself sad, i’m such a horrible person.
Favorite moment: spoilers but, there’s gonna be this whole thing where paul’s memory keeps getting erased throughout the story and carol feels increasingly conflicted about it and then when he comes to her house and asks her aunt some incriminating questions and she knows his memory is gonna get wiped she pretends to need his notepad for scratch paper for a crossword she’s working on but secretly writes you are right about everything on the last page and dorothy doesn’t see and somewhere down the line idk when there’s gonna be a pivotal scene where paul sees that shit and feels like he can live forever, breathe forever, be stronger
They stood before the advertisement, both assessing it with a critical eye.
"I'm going to get it," Ronan said as Adam choked on a splutter of surprise.
"You're not going to finish it."
"Split it with me."
"I'm getting cavities just looking at it. And indigestion."
"No fun," Ronan said, taking Adam's hand as casually as he did every time and tugging him along into the ice cream parlor.
The Virginian heat vanished in a gasp of air conditioning and sugar-sweet air. The shock sent goose pimples up Adam's arms, though it didn't make Ronan hesitate in the slightest.
"I can't believe you," he grumbled, not loud enough to be heard, but he knew the intention was felt by the cut of a smirk on Ronan's lips when he ordered the monstrous dessert.
It was also ridiculously expensive, considering the fact that it probably took seven people to consume it. Perhaps if Blue and Gansey and Henry were here, they would be able to make a dent. If only by sheer numbers than any desire to enjoy it.
Did Ronan even like sweet things?
"Please tell me you're secretly buying this for Opal."
"No. Fuck, do you want to see her hyped up on this much sugar?" Ronan cast Adam a look over his shoulder, and they both knew that the answer was a definite 'no'. So instead they took a seat and waited for one of the employees to bring over the architecturally unstable ice cream beast.
They sat across from each other at the small booth in the corner of the restaurant. Adam drummed his fingers against the formica, and Ronan watched the back of his hands. The tendons moving beneath skin, the freckles (which had grown darker in the summer sun), dancing with the movement.
"You're going to help me eat this," Ronan finally declared in a way that offered no discussion on the matter. "At least a bite."
Adam grumbled because he couldn't argue, and Ronan smirked the way he always did and reached for Adam's hand.
Calloused fingers brushed the back of his hand, dipping in the ridges between his knuckles, tracing the shape of his fingers -- it was a quick touch, there and gone again, but Adam could feel the ghost of it the entire time.
When the dessert was delivered, it wasn't as big as Adam had feared, but it was still unnecessarily large. They were offered two spoons to eat with, a large serving one already stabbed into the side of the thing, and two bowls. She said to let her know if they needed anything, and retreated far more quickly now that she was relieved of her burden.
Adam took up his spoons and contemplated the best way to attack. Ronan, as always, jumped right in without any forethought and started to eat spoonful after spoonful.
"I'm getting nauseous just looking at it."
"Shut up, Parrish. We'll go back to the Barns after this and sleep it off."
That didn't sound so bad, but it also meant taking a too-fast car ride on a stomach too-full of ice cream back to the Barns. Ronan nudged his foot under the table, a dangerous smile on his lips, and Adam knew that he stood no chance when Ronan gave him that look.
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Magnus looked on a bit sheepishly as he stood in front of the lecture hall, though Taako wore a lazy grin that could best be described as 'shit-eating', and Merle, perched on a stool to give him some kind of semblance of height, explained something not even remotely related to the class matter at hand.
Professor Lucretia sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose, but amazingly enough didn't step in to stop them. How she even thought letting the three of them work together on this group project would end in something remotely productive, no one had any idea.
Jonas' nose wrinkled in disgust. "I'm not wearing that."
Frustrated, Kaito tossed his hands into the air and sat back on his heels in front of his dresser. "What the hell is your problem?"
Eyes going wide, Jonas waived a hand to indicate the stained shirt he was currently wearing. "I have spilled my drink all over myself, and I need a clean shirt to wear."
"Just go home and change."
"Now, is that any way to treat a friend?"
Kaito rolled his eyes and pulled out another shirt. It barely made it out of the drawer before Jonas shouted, "EW. NOPE. PUT THAT ONE BACK."
He grumbled and did just that. "I can just lock you in the bathroom until I've cleaned your shirt."
An offended noise sounded from behind him, but he didn't bother looking. Jonas was too much of a faker that thrived on attention, anyway. "Rude." "No, you're being rude by forcing me to do this for you." Jonas tsk tsk tsked and said, "No, you're being a good friend." "Well, you can be a good friend by just sucking it up and wearing whatever shirt I give you." "Is this how you act when Rhys wears your things?" Kaito whirled around, forgetting for a moment that he was crouched on the floor and ended up losing his balance. He sat down with a huff, steadying himself against his dresser. "This has nothing to do with Rhys and why he might wear my clothes and everything to do with why you're being such a butt." "I'm always an ass, studmuffin, get used to it." Jonas sauntered over and plucked up one of the shirts he had previously discarded. He studied it with far more scrutiny than it really needed, sniffed it even though it was clean, and sighed dramatically. "I suppose this will have to do for now."
Klance: patching up a wound; pynch: sharing a dessert; kaito & rhys: wearing each other's clothes
Klance & Pynch requests. Prompt list. Also tagging @actualprincesshajime
"Oh, bollocks..." Rhys swore to himself as he lifted his arm, watching the red stain of the spread over his sleeve.
"What happened?" Kaito called from the other room.
"It's... nothing..." He should have known, should have rolled up the sleeves. But if he was ever asked which he hated more, wrinkles from rolling up the cuffs of his shirts, or stains from pasta sauce, Rhys knew he would have been caught in a moral dilemma because he did not have a valid answer.
Kaito's head poked out from his bedroom door. It took him no time at all to take in the situation. "You ruined your shirt."
"It's not ruined--"
"It'll stain."
Rhys let out a strained noise, because yes, it would. "I know."
Kaito emerged fully into his apartment, arms folded over his chest. "Change out. I'll get it to soak before the sauce can set."
He wasn't entirely too sure what sort of expression he was making, but it wasn't a good one. "No, it's fine."
"Rhys, your apartment is not within easy walking distance."
"I'm well aware."
"Then just wear one of my shirts."
Rhys allowed himself a judgmental once-over of Kaito, who straightened his posture under the stare. "Your shirts won't fit. Your torso is far too long and broad."
Kaito jutted his hip to one side and smirked. "Are you saying you don't like my muscular chest?"
He rolled his eyes. "Your shirts are too baggy. They'll just get in the way."
"I have more than just button-downs."
"I would never wear a t-shirt," Rhys said, offended, pressing a hand to his chest.
Kaito laughed and moved back towards his room. "Then for my sake, to spare me from having to watch you glare at your shirt and grumble about it later, please just wear a shirt."
Rhys wasn't entirely too sure how to handle this idea. He hasn't ever resorted to wearing Kaito's clothes, even on the rare occasions where he's slept over on the couch. He would rather deal with the wrinkles on his shirt -- though, thinking about it, wearing only an undershirt was even worse than borrowing one of Kaito's shirts.
"Fine," he said finally. "I'll borrow a t-shirt."
Kaito's victorious smirk might have made his heart skip a little, but he kept the emotions controlled on his face. Kaito disappeared back into his room, and, after a moment to glare balefully at the sauce stain, Rhys followed after.
He was greeted by a t-shirt being flung in his face. "Oh. I don't have a choice?"
"No," Kaito teased. "And there's detergent in the hallway. I'll go watch the sauce."
Rhys stood still for few seconds longer than he should have, clinging to the shirt and trying to decide how he felt. This was a little unfair, all things considered. With a sigh, he changed out of his quickly-becoming-ruined work shirt and pulled Kaito's t-shirt on over his head. He adjusted his glasses, realized that perhaps Kaito's shoulders and chest were far bigger than he originally gave them credit for, and ran a hand back through his hair.
Nothing like over sized clothes to make him feel even smaller than usual. He wondered if this is how Lionel and Liala felt wearing his hand-me-downs.
Rhys moved from Kaito's bedroom into the bathroom, fetching the laundry detergent on the way. He took the time to carefully rinse the shirt, dab the stains with detergent, and then draped it over the limited space of the counter.
When he stepped back into the kitchen, Kaito turned and watched him with a raised eyebrow. "Don't say anything," he warned, feeling even more ridiculous in his slacks and loafers, topped off with a stylishly faded t-shirt.
Kait's gaze followed him all the way back to the stove, the grin widening as he got closer. "I wasn't going to," he defended, surrendering over the ladle. "Except that I can see why you don't wear t-shirts now."
Rhys contemplated smacking him with the sauce-covered ladle, but decided that he didn't want to have to clean the ladle. "Shut up."
"Do they always look that big on your bony shoulders? Are your arms truly that pale?"
"Oh my God, Kaito."
"I'm sorry, I'm just not to seeing you look so..."
"Scrawny?"
"Hm. I was going to say casual." He grinned. It was his turn to give Rhys a once-over, though Rhys felt it down the length of his spine. "But scrawny, too. Do you ever eat?"
"You've seen me eat."
"Yes. I wonder if you eat beyond those times."
Rhys nudged him out of the way with his hip and returned to his place in front of the stove. "Get out of the way before your shirt is the next pasta sauce casualty."
"At least my shirts fit me."
"Oh for fuck's sake--"
"You might as well leave some of your shirts here. Or maybe I'll buy you some shirts since you apparently don't know about anything beyond what you wear to work. Do you sleep in your oxfords?"
Rhys shoved his hand into Kaito's face, pushing him away and ignoring the huff of laughter against his palm. "I hate you so much right now."
"You can't hate me that much, you're wearing my shirt."
"Bugger off."
"Let me know when dinner's ready." Kaito withdrew, still grinning, and Rhys took a steadying breath before he loosened the grip on the ladle handle.
