#cyanoscript

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They were part of the same batch during mandatory conscription/enlistment, but didn’t meet at that time. Now, Dion’s in grad school, pursuing an MBA and is also a TA in university. Terence had wanted to become a doctor but he had to support his ailing parents.

They met in a sandwich shop during the lunch rush, when a kid ran into Dion while he was holding a full tray, spilling the soda onto the back of the person in front of him. Dion offered to pay for laundry, but Terence kindly refused, also that he was already off duty anyway. Neither really remembered the incident until they met again much later.

Dion was picking up some documents from the registrar’s office when the lady at the counter suddenly clutched her chest and gasped for breath, then fell unconscious. Dion’s military training kicked in at once, he broke the door to the office and checked the lady over. She was unresponsive. Only one other office staff was with them since it was closing time. Dion asked him to call 911 and immediately began CPR.

The paramedic team arrived, five cycles in. Dion looked entirely relieved when one of them knelt across him, giving the signal to switch roles. Terence remained by the woman’s side, tirelessly giving chest compressions while Dion answered the other paramedic’s questions. Thankfully, the hospital was only a short distance away. They were able to save her somewhat.

Dion got them both apple juice packs from the hospital vending machine, “Correct me if I’m mistaken, but haven’t we met before?”

Terence’s brows were furrowed, no doubt from the stress of earlier. He smiled nonetheless as he accepted Dion’s gift. “I believe so. At Martha’s diner?”

They both laughed at the memory, and they knew at once they found a kindred spirit in each other.

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Headcanons that inspired Peppermint and Chocolate Chip (aka, that one Actress!Benedikta fic).

Outside of FF16, Clive is a dork. A quiet but nice guy who likes games. He’s a fan of the FF franchise, and his fave is FF8. (Inspired by Ben Starr talking about his FF experiences. Also I'm projecting.)

Joshua’s two actors are totally attached at the hip. They’re not related but everyone is astounded at the resemblance, no wigs were needed even! And Adult!Joshua adores Kid!Joshua and protects his mini-me with his life. (I'm actually thinking of them both having Joshua as a middle name! Something like Andre Joshua and Allen Joshua. Btw, Adult!Joshua is Clive's actual brother.)

Jill is an indie pop singer. Sometimes busks. She loves everybody! She baked sugar cookies for the cast and crew once. She still burns the oven sometimes, though. Also she takes up kendo to improve her stage action scenes but tells no one of her rank because it’ll scare them (and they’ll make her teach everyone else on set, and that’s a pain). Her favorite FF is 10...... 2.

Benedikta is actually an awkward bean. She IS the hottest thing right now, an it-girl if you will. But she IS an awkward bean off-set, and reality shows exploit this for all they can. Oh, and she’s a big eater. -> This is what became the actual Benna fic

Hugo’s a comedian, actually. He’s also an amazing cook. He and Benedikta get along well. They’re cool besties. He often invites her to his YouTube channel to cook for her.

Barnabas Tharmr: A-list actor. Everyone’s beloved leading man. Very versatile, hot, in-demand. He’s perfect, oh, and he sings too. Confusing af love life. -> Referenced in the Benna fic

Dion’s probably following in Barnabas’ footsteps career-wise. That recent boy-next-door role he played had all the teenage girls want him as a boyfriend. They don’t know that he takes cues from real-life experience, and a real-life boy-next-door that captured his heart. 👀

Oh, Cidolfus Telamon: where to begin? Also another A-list actor, like Barnabas. Action films are his specialty, although you also see him in heavy dramas. All his works are guaranteed hits, no questions asked. His relationship with Barnabas, although professional, currently leaves much to be desired. Rumors abound that he used to have a thing with Benedikta, although both sides deny it. Also The Original Troll on set. He's fun to have on talk shows, but that's only when he feels like showing up.

Terence is Dion's best friend from theater. The original boy-next-door, and Dion's real-life partner. Knows just enough pop culture to get by, so he doesn't understand how he got this role, but if anything good comes out of this it's getting to work alongside Dion again. Greagor knows how long ago their last production together was ever since his love shot to fame on TV/Film. (Oh, if only he knew who suggested him to the director, because "he's good at his craft." 👀)

Sleipnir's that one cocky archetype co-actor you usually see in these kinds of cast ensembles. He's actually nice, though! Just innocently insensitive at times. Terence hates him with a passion, but Sleipnir likes to believe they're Vitriolic Best Buds. (And they actually are. Dion agrees but doesn't dare say it to his bf's face.) He's a horrible troll, just like Cid.

Jote's an adorable Tonberry rookie actress! She briefly had ensemble/swing stints in another theater troupe (Adult!Joshua's, actually), before landing this role. She loves posting pictures of sunflowers. Laments her dark clothes. Looks up to Benedikta despite their only scene together being a violent one. -> Referenced in the Benna fic.

Happens after part 4 of Happier Ever After.

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“It’s morning already, love.” Terence gently tapped Dion’s back in an attempt to get his partner to get off him. As pleasant as their sleep on the couch was, Terence was already beginning to feel numb in multiple places.

Dion stirred, looking up sleepily at Terence before nuzzling even closer than before they’d fallen asleep last night. “Googol says there’s a thunderstorm today. I’m sleeping in.” He immediately did just that, his light breathing tickling Terence’s neck once more.

Anyway, teaser for a BSD Kenji fic I’m working on.

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Not even Mister Fukuzawa knows about Kenji’s coconut plantation.

Its existence is a puzzlement to the few who’ve heard of it, shaking their heads and shrugging their shoulders at the nigh-impossible endeavor of growing tropical plants in temperate, volcanic soil— out in the nowhere of Ihatovo, no less. Yet it still grows and thrives, a couple dozen tall trees with long palms that bow to the weight of the sweet, white fruit.

To the even fewer who know of it, it’s a miracle that stands the test of time, and a memento of a friendship that lives forever.

Kenji never presumed himself more than an applauding audience to this brotherhood of old, yet bore witness to it he has, and the sacred duty of honoring its legacy has fallen on his young shoulders. It is a task he willingly undertakes with delight and reverence, every minute in the sun and every bead of trickling sweat a testament to this undying labor of love.

When night falls, he rests under the shade of the biggest tree, losing himself in pleasant musings not unlike the gentle swaying of the low-lying branches. The golden yellow flowers will be bearing fruit soon, and there will again be a plentiful harvest. This humble patch of land has seen its fair share of disasters since its soil was first tilled, yet the trees grow back again the next spring, resilient as the Mother Nature that had warmly accepted them.

Based on this prompt on Tumblr.

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between the two of them, only chuuya has the literal ability (and therefore, the right) to be upside down at any given moment.

so when he opens the door to their bedroom for some much-needed break from the day's bullshit, the last thing he ever expected to see is dazai's upright form in a decidedly wrong orientation than is conventional— that is, with his bare feet stuck to the ceiling, and his bandaged hands barely touching the floor.

what the hell is this bastard doing upside down, chuuya thinks in disbelief, as he tries not to be distracted by how the loose fabric of dazai's pajamas shamelessly ride up (or, well, down) his thin torso, revealing relatively chiseled abs that horribly contrast with his visible rib cage.

what on earth have I done to deserve this, is the second thought that comes to mind, meaning it in more ways than one. fucking tease, he adds to that, as he resists with mortification the rush of blood from his head to his, well— let's not go there, nakahara, for the love of all that is good and pure and holy, goddammit.

chuuya decides right there and then to help dazai down his 180° predicament, as it were (because only he has the right to be upside down, dammit!), but dazai begins to slowly wiggle in place, until his whole body slowly descends from the ceiling, and he breaks his fall with a perfectly-executed handstand, before finally curling his body down to the floor.

he does not even want to question what is going on at this point. 

chuuya makes a mental note to fix the ceiling later, where a pair of limp, flesh-toned foot socks remain glued. definitely doing that pronto, he amends, before he is thoroughly distracted to oblivion by dazai's sluggish form slowly attaching itself to him like a leech to warm-blooded flesh. already happening, in fact. he doesn't have the energy for that, he justifies to himself, but that's a goddamned lie, and he knows that.

for now, chuuya cradles dazai to himself as he slowly comes to, blinking slowly as he looks up with glossed-over eyes. "whoa, headrush," dazai mumbles, vision slowly refocusing once more.

"what the hell were you trying to do again, you stupid mackerel?" chuuya snorts.

a couple of blinks, then: "oh, chuuya? sorry about that. i was trying to force myself to think. i was very much uninspired earlier, you see."

it makes chuuya really, really, really want to facepalm, for real. the fucking absurdity.

"you're definitely not right in the head to do any thinking," he scolds, scooping dazai up into a princess carry (with some ability-enhanced cheating), then tossing him to the king-sized bed. with that done, he goes up to the ceiling himself and brusquely removes the socks stuck on there with a satisfying rip. the paint job for it later will be tedious and horrible, but that alternative is definitely better than waking up to dirty laundry stuck on his ceiling after a good night's rest. and chuuya definitely needs a lot of that shuteye right now.

"chuuya," dazai sleepily calls later as he is taking off his dress shirt and slacks, "thanks for getting me down." and that smile he gives after is fucking illegal, dammit, but it's not his place to say that.

"you did that yourself," he corrects, joining him under the covers and running his hand through dazai's mussed hair. "now shut up and go to sleep."

and chuuya thought a drunk dazai would be a mess to handle. a lovesick one was worse, apparently. i've no idea what you're even saying. come on, let's go.

dazai spins one more time, before taking chuuya by the hand. what-- oi!

really, when dazai is in one of his moods, he won't ever stop. chuuya knows this, but still.

they dance until the sun rises. it isn't surprising how, despite his misgivings, chuuya loves keeping up with dazai. has it been thirty minutes, an hour? none of that matters, dazai murmurs into his ear as he pulls chuuya closer to himself. we have time.

that they do. and they dance in silence once more, until there is light over the hill and in the room.

after that, the spell is over, and large swathes of dark red mar the pristine white concrete where dazai stood.

chuuya, finding himself alone, is disappointed, the dried blood from the floor caked beneath the soles of his shoes.

Post seven sentences from your current WIP and then tag seven others.

The cool breeze that enters through the window is a timely relief from the sweltering heat, though she doesn’t feel much of it underneath her collared uniform shirt and the tacky apron she has over it. Tanizaki’s eyes are closed, letting the gentle wind blow across his sweaty face, the ends of his own bandana fluttering behind his head.

Akiko closes her own eyes, as well, trying not to think for now.

The opening of the soup kitchen at lunch time gives her the distraction she needs. The physical labor brings a different sort of tired than the constant mental maneuvering she has to deal with in her major hospital rotations. She loves all of these things, nonetheless, for the sense of normalcy they bring. Sometimes, she even wonders if these halcyon days are real— or if she even deserves them.

Her sketchbook at home, now frayed at the edges and with coffee stains all over, is all the proof and validation she needs.

Am finally revealing this WIP because contributors [Twitter thread] for the Yokohama Runway Zine have finally been revealed, and ya gal’s writing a Yosano piece for it! :)

Full story here.