rayraypotata17-blog

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Dysfunctional Soul - Welcome to the DWMA (on Wattpad) https://my.w.tt/YUYInmb5nS Oili, a street-raised weapon and meister, gets her soul ripped out by a kishin, and can't seem to get back into the swing of things after her brothers put it back in. She goes to the Academy, seeking the help of the infamous Dr. Franken Stein. She lands herself a job teaching bonding processes between weapon and meister pairs, and finds that Stein is more than just a doctor to her. Stein x OC UNEDITED RIGHT NOW SORRY

[rayraypotata17-blog]

The Gray Area (chapter 1)

So this is obviously a rough, ROUGH draft, and I had a really hard time actually writing it without truly editing. Enjoy! 

Everybody was screaming. I could smell sweat and alcohol and metal. Metal? No, I was smelling blood. Someone was bleeding; I guess it was me. My fingertips were as raw as my throat, and the whiskey I had downed earlier was sitting strange in my stomach. The only reason I was on time with the rest of my group was due to the earbud pressed into my ear. The turnout was amazing. Usually we pulled up a crowd of maybe 100. Today it was almost double that. The lyrics were falling from my lips and hanging in the air, riding the hands and ears of the attendees like I was crowd surfing myself. I was in my element.

    Afterwards, Eli came up to me and told me I was great that day, that I was completely on. Later at the bar, I pondered what “on” really meant, then proceeded to take another shot of vodka. I had begun to feel the usual warmth of alcohol around the fourth shot, but kept going until I was burning.

    “So...I was at your show earlier. You guys rocked!” A short brunette slurred, eyes drifting from my mouth to my crotch and back up.

    “Thanks. We did it just for you.” I rose my glass as a mock toast, deciding she was too wasted to detect my sarcasm. Why not humor her.

    Giggling, she placed a hand on my jacket sleeve, “But, if you want, I can show you how I rock back at home.”

    I pushed her hand off and jumped from the stool, making sure to pay off the last drink by slapping a ten on table. The bartender pitied the girl, I could tell as he swept up my money and glanced sadly at her. Either that or he was looking for a lover just as much as she was. I didn’t see her swallow her pride and march off, but I knew she did. I didn’t see her fix her hair and makeup in the bathroom, but I knew she did. Girls like that are desperate for a welcoming partner to spend the night with, and won’t settle for anything less. I assume she found someone that night.

    So did I.

    I usually don’t drive when I have gigs, simply because I know I’ll drink. I just prefer not to deal with finding a designated driver or bother leaving my car overnight at a random bar. I also didn’t mind walking. So I headed in the general direction of my house, hoping that I’d recognize a landmark and then know my way from there. It was a crisp September night. The leaves had already started to turn brown, yellow, orange and red, but a few of the younger ones still had plenty of green. My breath fogged up a little as I shoved my bare hands into my coat. My scarf was still keeping my neck and chin warm, but it was my ears and toes that had really begun to feel the cold. It was about a week prior to this that I had thought of moving to somewhere warmer, then realized I couldn’t part with the aesthetic of the snow and having an excuse to wear all of my layers. I pondered this again as I was walking, and came to the same conclusion that I wasn’t going to leave Maine. It was home.

    Home.

    “Shit.” I murmured. I completely forgot to call my mom that week. I quickly fumbled for my phone and pressed call, hoping one in the morning wasn’t too late. It sent me straight to voicemail. Either her phone was dead or she didn’t want to talk again.

    I waited for the beep, “Hey mom, it’s me. I just wanted to check in again and I hope you’re doing fine. I’ll try you tomorrow but if you don’t answer that's fine, I’ll just wait until next week. Love you.”

    After I ended the call, I regretted saying “love you”. I knew she didn’t like that.

    It had been a long time since I had actually seen her. Two years? Seems right. She didn’t have any social media, rarely checked her phone, and almost never left the house. The doctors said she was paranoid, but I always thought she was just scared. Not scared of the unknown, or whatever the specialist told me. I was pretty sure she was terrified of what she had already experienced.

    I passed a few empty alleyways, making sure to avoid them. People who look for trouble hang out in alleyways; ask any Hollywood director. The cliché surrounding dark alleys and thugs seemed all too real as I was briskly walking around them. I just wanted to go home.

    As I was crossing a parking lot, a large man crashed into me.

    Normally, I would’ve said something rude or nasty, then continued on my way. Unfortunately, I didn’t get the chance to say anything. He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed, a move I couldn’t comprehend, and therefore, had no clue how to counter it in order to escape. After a few seconds he relaxed and held me at arm's length, still not separated from me. He was tall, much taller than me, and had wild sandy blond hair. With a strong jawline and green eyes, he was a heartthrob. And I wanted him to quit touching me. I threw up a hand to push him back, and then let it fall back to my side when I saw more men approaching.

    “See? I’m fine. Look! It’s Tom from my Political History class! I was just going to meet him at the bar!” The man holding me spoke to the group, giving me a good shake as if to emphasize that I was there. He looked at me nervously and pulled me in for another bear hug. “Please play along.” He whispered.

    I nodded. “Yeah, uh, sorry. I went out looking for you. We still on?” I crossed my arms awkwardly, knowing I sounded fake. This kid wouldn’t let go of me, and it was getting on my nerves. I was close to snapping.

    “Of course, Tom!” He shouted, turning back to the other men. “So, we good, Lance?”

    One of the guys stepped forward and gave me a once-over before raising his hand for an approving thumbs up. Returning the gesture, Blondie (my new name for him) swept us in the direction I had just come from. I kept up the act until we were out of sight from the other men. Then I shoved him.

    “Hey! What the hell?!” He threw his hand up, clearly pissed. Well so was I.

    “You need to stop touching me so much. Seriously.”

    He grinned, “Oh come-on, we just fooled my brother into thinking we knew each other. It was an important part of the plan.”

    “We didn’t do shit. You did.” Why was I still walking with him?

    “Oh yes we did. Your acting could use a little work, but it’s just a matter of-”

    I stopped walking and faced him completely, “Cut it out. I don’t know you, you don’t know me. It’s time to go our separate ways. This is weird.” I stuck out a hand. “The best of luck, Sunshine.”

    “My name’s Kasey, but you can call me Sunshine if you want,” He didn’t miss a beat, grasping my hand in a grip an employer would die for. This guy wouldn’t take a hint.

    “Look, Kasey,” I sighed. “I’m glad I could help you out, but, for real, I am gonna go, okay?”

    Kasey looked at me with wide eyes, “No, you can’t! What if they see you without me? Lance is gonna kill me if he finds out I lied about having friends!”

    I chuckled. Imagine, this giant beefcake with no friends, no girl, no nothing. I continued to laugh until I was bent over, borderline hysterical. “Jesus Christ you’re funny.” I let out a long whistle.

    He tilted his head, much like a dog, and gave a small laugh, “I’m sorry, I don’t see what’s so funny. I wasn’t making a joke. I really don’t have any friends.”

    I immediately stopped smiling. There was no way. Confused, I checked him out. Whether it was sexual or not, he was attractive. Yeah, he had a strange scar on his lip, and one of his eyebrows was a tilted down farther than the other, but he was by no means ugly. So it was his personality.

    “Maybe you just need to learn how to start conversations,” I shrugged.

    “I always start the conversation, but they never stick around!”

    “Well if your opening sentence is ‘please play along’, I think you’re doing it wrong.”

    He frowned, “I don’t do that every time. I just needed to convince Lance I was fine. ‘Cause I am. Fine, I mean.”

    I nodded. “Uh huh. Sure. You seem like a nutcase.” Internally, I winced at my words. I was being a bit harsh, even for me.

    “I’m not a nutcase! I’m just,” He paused, running his hand through his hair. He seemed frustrated. “Can we just go for a drink? Please? I’m buying.” Kasey’s mouth pulled back into his grin, this time less obnoxious and more sincere.

    Just say no

    Come-on

    Fuck it

[rayraypotata17-blog]

Hey everyone, I’m not really new to tumblr, but I am starting fresh! I will most likely post a lot about my writing, or, lack thereof. I might post chapters? I’m not sure yet. Maybe just plots I have or whatever. Anyways, thanks!

- Rachel