tipsyon-tea

[tipsyon-tea]

Ray ☆

[tipsyon-tea]

Seconded! This fic is my comfort food while waiting for the demo (≧▽≦)

It's beautifully written, and Veil always does an amazing job at bringing characters to life ♡

Hello!

I wrote a little fanfic for A Seat at the Table, an upcoming game by very talented artist @quieteeks! I just got through the first chunk, so I thought I would share. I’m really pleased with myself for sticking to it! And I’m very, very excited for when the demo arrives.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63177982/chapters/161806402

[tipsyon-tea]

Well, it's no Broken Colours, but Homicipher has taken up residence in my prefrontal and its inhabitants are demanding release.

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She lost her heart somewhere in that dark, winding maze, and somehow, somehow, she's going get it back—even if it means she has to take on every threat of the otherworld with a still-bleeding hole in her chest.

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The ringing of a phone startles her from the stupor. Loud and abrasive, like a jittery metal bar. She hates the sound. Hates the sound so much. It echoes at the back of her eyes, dragging her into thoughts of endless ruined mornings, and her hand shoots out to knock the handle off its perch.

She meant to grab it, used to nimble fingers that would manage such a task. When she cracks an eye open she sees her hand is mottled. The ends dark and stiff, skin like tar beneath the nails. All she's managed to do is knock the top part of the device onto the ground, but at least it makes the wretched sound stop. 

The crackling voice that emerges in its place is barely loud enough to hear. She strains her ears. Willing herself to listen through a head full of cotton, since more than anything else in the world right now, she knows it never rings twice.

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https://archiveofourown.org/works/64557085/chapters/165799915

[tipsyon-tea]

[tipsyon-tea]

Me making a dead dove wh comic she will never share: this really isn't ic but I HAVEEEE to get the idea out

Me after reading ao3 dead dove fic: ok I suddenly feel a lot better about my characterization actually

[tipsyon-tea]

Blind Spot - Deleted Scenes - Ch 6

Chapter 6 was excruciating. It was meant to be a chance for the Damon and the MC to open up more, but no matter what I tried I wasn't happy with it. I ended up with endless scenes of them having meaningful conversations in the rain that didn't fit the development of the relationship. Eventually I gave up and let the MC do as she pleased.

Technically spoilers for the main story, but the final draft ended up completely different, so also not. I'd be interested to know from people who've read the main chapter which version they prefer.

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The rain crashed against the world around them, falling in rivulets off the roof of the pavilion onto leafy garden beds. It was everywhere. Sheets of water lashed the city in rolling waves, leaving the air with a chill unsuited to the summer. 

“Can I see?” Damon spoke quietly, his body angled towards her as they sat side by side on the stone picnic table. His much longer legs were bent towards her, crowding close enough to feel a phantom warmth, but never quite touching. She frowned and curled her obsidian tipped claws between her knees, trying to push back the itch underneath her nails. The tension like a second skin that wanted to twist and shape her bones into something unrecognisable.

 “You want to know what my hands look like,” she said, frowning as she considered it. It wasn't so much what he thought of her abilities—she didn't care about that. If he was repulsed, that made everything easier. The issue was the feeling that she was giving away her advantage. Losing the element of surprise, as irrational as it was. The nervous, uncertain energy continued to radiate off him and he hadn’t looked away once since joining her under the shelter. Her neck prickled under the scrutiny, hairs raised around her nape.

He's not a threat, she had to remind herself. He wasn't about to attack her, though she was less worried about that, and more about the possibility he’d try to make a move. 

“You don't have to show me,” he said, waving his hands. She tried not to twitch at the sudden movement. “I was just curious-” He calmed down enough to fiddle with the ends of his hair instead, glancing to and from, “-since it seems like something you struggle to control.”

She withheld the urge to ask why he was sitting so close to her if he knew that. “It's more present when I'm nervous,” she said instead, curling her fingers inside the pockets around her waist.

“You're nervous?”

That’s not it. Her mouth formed a thin line as she looked over the railing of the pavilion into the rainswept gardens. Nervous was for things you wanted to do well at. This was closer to wariness. Apprehension. “I guess.”

Her skin crawled under his stare, squirming with uncertainty as to what came next. She staunchly avoided looking at him, so she could only draw from her periphery if he made any sort of movement. 

“I'm… nervous as well,” he said softly. 

That didn't help. If anything, the edge of anxiety that radiated off him made it worse. Taking a breath, she tried to ward off the lingering malignance. “You want to see what my hand looks like,” she reiterated, not convinced it was a good idea. He'd been the one to ask though, and she didn't see why she should say no. She should show at least a token of trust. 

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she withdrew the hand closest to him. Turning it over to show him the claws seeped in deep purple. He paused, breath caught in his throat as he stared. Reaching out only to hesitate, and she saw his eyes flicker to her for guidance. Perhaps trying to read the frown on her face. 

“I think they're beautiful,” he said quietly. Like he knew the ice was liable to crack. 

Her fingers twitched, lip curling back, but his hands still hovered. Inches from clasping her own. She managed to keep the change restrained, fingers bleeding darker in colour, but it barely scratched the surface of their actual form. She pressed her lips shut to hide the sharpening teeth.

Nothing about this was pretty, unless he was deluded. Everything was a snarling mix of uncertainty and conflicting instincts, no peace brought by the rain to sooth her. There was no point taking the first step if she despised how it had to end-

He seemed to decide she was okay with it, and both his palms wrapped around the sides of her claws to cradle her hand. They were warm and soft. Shorter than hers—how he didn't fear her she didn't know—but gentle. His thumbs brushed soothingly along the sides, and she had to force the deep breaths through her teeth.

This couldn't be all he wanted.

“I-Is, uhm, is it always this close to the surface?” he spoke again, stumbling more than she expected. She glanced up to see why and actually took in his expression—even through the monochrome shadow of the clouds, she could see the nervous flush of his cheeks. He could be sick or upset or infatuated for all she knew of an expression like that. The idea he could look at her—claws out like she was ready to attack him—and be enamoured seemed the most absurd. 

“It’s more present when I'm nervous,” she said, voice rough. True of most Huevari like her. It was a sign any sane person would take as meaning ‘back off’, but he either had no clue of the threat or chose to ignore it, giving her hand a soft squeeze.

”You don't have to be nervous,” he said, sounding twice as uncertain as she felt. He traced small circles against her palm, which made the hair at the back of her neck stand on end. “I like you and… I want you to know that something like this would never change that.” 

Not the problem- She tried not to bristle, reminding herself the point was to make it work, not send him conflicting messages. The sentiment behind it was nice. Sweet. Probably romantic in any other scenario—except she didn't care what he thought of it. Her concern was everything to do with how far he would push her. 

“What do you mean by ‘like’?”

“Huh-?” He glanced up, reddening under the scrutiny. “C-can you explain that a bit more?” 

“Like, in what… sense.” She frowned, struggling to put the thing that had evaded her this whole time into words. “Whether you meant my personality. Or the idea of dating. Or if you meant you liked how I looked, or a casual sort of thing…” 

Her head spun with thoughts of what his intentions were. What he wanted out of this if she said yes. How he'd feel when he found she had nothing but issues to offer. She probably imagined the way his grip tightened around her palm. 

“I… don't mind answering, but-” Looking up, she was in fact correct. His shadowed eyes seemed darker than usual, gazing down at her with a gravity that seemed more appropriate for the issue he’d been ignoring. “Please, can you just-” He struggled for what to say, holding her hand tighter between his own. “Tell me what it is you're thinking first? Anything? I want to know if I'm doing this right.”

Her mouth opened, then shut again as she tried to pin down anything that would actually make sense. “Give me a moment,” she said, taking a deep breath in. Out of interest, she tugged her hand back, wondering if he’d let go. His grip only tightened, far more noticeably than it had before. Making it clear he was keeping it in his grasp. 

She found she didn't mind. The rain drummed against the tiles of the pavilion, filling the silence with the patter of water against leafy fronds. She could sense his agitation growing as her non-response stretched, but he remained dutifully silent. Which was arguably worse than if he interrupted her. 

“I guess, I…” She spoke, simply to ease herself into it. His thumbs pressed into her palm to hold it in place, and she let her fingers curl over, the sharpened edge of her nails grazing against his much softer flesh. “I have a lot of thoughts. Too many. They keep assassinating each other over which one gets to go first.”

“Take your time,” he said softly, and her tentative grin fell as he ignored her attempt at injecting some humour. Her gaze flickered from their hands to the fabric covering his chest, wondering how many shapes would be in one diagonal row across his shirt, and what was wrong with her to take this long over a single question. 

“You asked what I’m thinking. Right.” She needed to take a breath to recover her thoughts, eyes shifting several different places as she turned the words over in her mouth. “I just- I guess I don’t know what you want out of this. What it is you like about me, your idea of dating. If you just liked how I looked, or if this is a more casual sort of thing…” 

She risked looking up to see his expression, surprised when she saw his frown had disappeared completely. He stared down at his lap with wide eyes instead, taking a moment to digest his own thoughts. 

“I see… I suppose you're right. I wasn't very clear.” He glanced up at her, this time with a softer smile. Moving slowly, he tugged her hand closer towards him. 

She stiffened, her other claws scraping grooves in the stone table when he brought her captured hand up to his face, staring at her over the top of her serrated fingers. 

“I like everything about you,” he said, his breath warm against her skin as his eyes creased up with the smile their hands hid. “The more I discover, the more I like. And as for dating…” He looked bashful for a moment, glancing away. “It’s uhm, definitely not casual. What I want is the opposite of that.”

Vague, again. 

But if he was looking for something serious, that was a start at least. She felt her stomach was all twisted in knots with the turn their conversation had taken. Tense in a way that wasn't entirely bad, but it didn't help her with fighting back the claws on her fingers. 

“Right,” she said. He looked at her with wide, imploring eyes as he tightened his grip around her hand, like his whole world would fall apart depending on what she said next. “I guess, the ‘opposite of casual’ fits pretty well for me too.” 

She managed a strained laugh, and this time he laughed along, the sound of it soft against the lessening rain. She glanced out across the gardens to see the onslaught had eased to a steady patter.

♪⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅♪

[tipsyon-tea]

Blind Spot - Deleted Scenes - Ch 5

I think this one was written prior to me actually starting chapter 5, as a kind of idea I had floating around in my head. Of course when I actually started writing the chapter it went off the rails in a different direction, so it never got used.

Damon and Blind Spot MC at the park.

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“So how come you like me anyway?” 

Damon seemed to process that for a moment, eyes wide. He looked like there was a lot he had to say, but couldn't wrap his head around the words, trying a couple times before he finally spoke. “Is there... a reason you ask?”

Maybe she was being too blunt, but it had been annoying her for long enough. Her sister's words about being lovesick and desperate were still bouncing around in her head, and it wasn't like either of those things were necessarily bad, but something about it irked her. “I can't figure out why you want to spend time with me.”

He jolted, looking for a moment like he would reach out to shake her. It was only when her stance shifted abruptly that he thought better if it, casting his gaze down at his shoes. “Uhm. I guess, It was the night we first met.” His raised hand reached across his chest instead, clenching his other arm. “Maybe- it didn't seem like much to you, but… I was in a really bad place that night, and talking with you really cheered me up.”

Nope. That didn't help. In any other case maybe it would add up, but it didn't explain why her sister seemed to think he was so head-over-heels. It was suspicious. “So, if anyone else had been nice to you, you would’ve felt the same?” 

He looked taken aback, and slightly hurt as his knuckles started to whiten. “I think you're overestimating how many people would be kind to someone like me.” 

She raised a brow. For the first time since the night they met, his expression fell into something bitter and resentful. She'd gotten so used to his nervous smiles and quiet laughs, she'd almost forgotten he could make a face like that. 

“Most people barely acknowledge I exist,” he said, looking away from her. “If they do, it's only because they have to, or they think I'm a threat. To most of the world I'm just… invisible.” The wind played around them, starting to pick up more now that the storm clouds had thickened. He finally looked back at her, seeming frustrated and tired with the world. “So it means a lot to me that you wanted to help. More than you know.” 

So that was why? It hadn’t occurred to her that most other people would see his size and colour as something to be wary of. Even though he was gentle, others probably didn’t see it that way. It didn't make sense to her why people ignored him though. 

“Maybe we should get you a cat bell,” she mused. 

Damon blinked, looking at her for a beat. “Pardon?” 

“Oh. I was just thinking—I bet people would notice you more if you didn't walk so quietly. And! It'll save you from getting punched by sneaking up on the wrong person.”

Her, namely.

He looked like he didn't know what to make of her words, but that was his fault. She hadn't expected him to launch into a depressing rundown of his life that she had no idea how to respond to.

“Or we could… I dunno, put squeaky toys in your shoes?”

“I would rather not,” he said faintly.

“But it would be funny,” she insisted, rocking back on her heels with a grin. “It would be ‘squeak squeak squeak’ whenever you walk, or ‘squeak-squeak-squeak-squeak!’ if you're trying to walk fast.” 

He looked at her in disbelief, and if he'd been trying to have a serious conversation it was ruined by his lips twitching up to match hers. “You have a weird way of trying to cheer people up.”

“Just saying. If you're tired of being ignored then that can be changed.” 

He finally laughed, his eyes crinkled up with his grin, shaking his head. “It’s okay. I don’t mind as long as I can have your attention.”

♪⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅♪

[tipsyon-tea]

When I find a yandere character I like I always end up making an OC with the specific purpose of making the yandere suffer

Like, I love u skrunkly stalker boy but I'm gonna make you cry with my oc I'm sorry they're not gonna love you

[tipsyon-tea]

Blind Spot - Deleted Scenes - Ch 4

Every time I have chapter with heavy dialogue, I swear it gets re-written at least half a dozen times. This one was a fun version to write, but one side was too emotive, while Damon was too collected. It might be possible if they knew each other better, but the final version ended up having both of them be much more guarded.

Minor spoilers for the main story. For those who haven't read it, Blind Spot MC drops by Damon's shop to ask a favour.

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More importantly, how the hell was she going to explain why she just so happened to be at his store right after he dropped in to grab something he forgot? She tried to picture the opposite. Visiting the convenience store on her day off, and he just so happened to appear as she was trying to leave. To ask her on a date, no less. 

Yeah, no. She covered her face. There was no way. It was one coincidence too many. A mockery of common sense.

Let's just wait for him to leave. She kept to her corner of the store, taking a deep breath and having it settle in her chest before letting go. She was getting worked up over nothing. She'd come back another day, or wait for him to visit the store on his own. Monday wouldn't happen, but her sister was probably right on that front. She was rushing things. Too preoccupied with whether her sister's new partner might be a potential threat to accept that maybe her sister knew what she was doing.

Certainly more so than she did-

“Hello...?”

Her eyes flew open, snapping to his voice at the other end of the shelf. Damon stood with a curious expression on his face, one hand in his coat while the other held an expensive-looking camera. He blinked at her sudden movement, seeming to pick his words carefully.

“I thought it was you,” he said, watching her thoughts run a mile a minute. “Are you here for something?” 

I'm here for you. Hell no. No way she could say that. Why did she think this was a good idea? It was so awkward. 

“Kind of?” She looked down at the bouquets in front of her, the colours reminding her of craggy hills and autumn. She liked flowers, but not enough to buy them. That much seemed abundantly clear after Thursday. “I… thought you might've been working today.” 

She tried very hard not to look at him, stuffing her hands in the pouch of her sleeveless hoodie. She hadn't been planning to go anywhere except her sister's place, and she was certainly dressed the part.

There was no reason for her to be nervous, she reasoned. If he got the wrong idea then that would actually solve a great deal. She could wash her hands of him. He wouldn't show up again at the store, and there were always other opportunities to meet her sister's new side piece.

“So you came to see me?”

She couldn't read his response at all. His eyes were slightly wider, but he kept his face neutral, aside from the slight twist of his lips to the side. Like he was thinking, evaluating her. She didn't like how unsettled it made her.

“Technically... yes,” she said. She felt her claws sharpen as the back of her neck prickled. He was looking at her so intently. The small nook of the store was well hidden, not that she was worried about being backed into a corner. Not for the usual reasons, at least. Her gaze trailed back to him, weighing up the size difference. “How'd you even spot me back here?” 

“I saw you when I came in,” he admitted, smiling sheepishly. The shadows around his eyes weren’t as bad as the other day, but they were still pronounced, as if he hadn’t been getting enough sleep. “I was going to say hi earlier, but…” His expression was sweet, a bit too much so, his front canines peeking out. “It was cute watching you try to hide from me like that.”

“Hide?” Hide? She stared at him a beat, her eyes wide in disbelief. 

She didn't hide. Was he trying to pick a fight? It wasn't her fault any sane person would be ringing alarm bells after a random person they met showed up at their shop. Except—he saw her when he came in. He knew she wasn't following him.

...gods, she was an idiot. Even if she was glad to avoid the misunderstanding, she wanted to take a swing at him just to show she wasn't hiding because she was scared. She covered her face with a groan. 

How dare he call it cute.

“You know what- fine,” she said. “But this is the third time you've almost snuck up on me. Are you doing it on purpose?” 

“Huh?” He acted like he didn't understand the cause of her anger, despite the suppressed smile playing around his lips. “I just walk quietly. Are you sure you aren't the one distracted?” 

She wanted to punch him.  Her lips curled back over her teeth, bared in something that would have been a vicious grin if her hands weren’t still covering her mouth. If he was trying to rile her up it was working, but he wasn't going to like the consequences if he pushed too far. 

“Says the one leaving secret notes in books,” she said accusingly. “Play it off all you want. You’re sneakier than you pretend not to be.”  

He tilted his head, red eyes wide with an indistinct emotion. After a moment he stepped closer, trying to peer around her hands as she reared back in surprise. 

“So you got my note?” he said. 

It was a new feeling, being so agitated and yet unthreatened. Maybe she didn't mind it as much as she put on. She couldn't feel the usual itch in her fingers. Her cheeks were warm, rather than burning underneath the markings.

“You're doing this on purpose,” she accused. 

His eyes crinkled up with his smile. “Maybe. I didn't think you'd get so defensive about it.”

♪⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅♪

[tipsyon-tea]

Deleted Scenes - Ch 3

Once upon a time, I was actually planning to timeskip the first few days of Blind Spot. The fun parts are always later in the story after all, so it seemed only sensible. Unfortunately for me, I made an OC that was so violently opposed to casual flings that I ended up needing to properly flesh things out. Otherwise it didn't make sense why Damon wasn't told to bugger off when he first started hanging around too much.

♪⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅♪

Damon was at the store the next afternoon, talking about a long shift and not having time to cook. There was… something about seeing the same brand of frozen microwave meals that she always bought that niggled at her, or maybe it was just the way he stared. It wasn’t like the store had a huge variety.

She scanned through his purchases with an even expression. Polite. She wasn’t an idiot, as much as her sister insisted she was. Someone showing up for the second night in a row–for microwave meals they could buy for less at a chain store–felt like a pretence.

“It would be nice to eat out some time, but it’s awkward without anyone else to-”

Her fingers twitched at his words and she was grateful for the icy coat that caused it to slip through her grasp onto the floor. 

“Sorry, just a moment!” She ducked under the counter to pick it up as her face twisted into an involuntary grimace. That was a setup. A fucking obvious one. An invitation for her to say ‘oh yes! Why don’t I go with you~’ 

The thought made her bristle. Hackles raised, as if she were responding to a threat rather than a tentative, well-intentioned offer. 

Calm down. She took a deep breath, halfway through an apology about dropping his item and getting him a new one as she started to rise to her feet. Too quickly. Distracted by irritation and her own mistake. Her head caught on the edge of the counter.

“Fuck!” She dropped it again.

Several other choice terms flashed through her mind that she bit back, letting out a high pitched groan instead, still leaning as she clutched the back of her head. Goddammit. Shit. Fucking counter. Fucking Rasmus. He should be here now, talking to bloody customers. But no. Too hungover from his party. At least she had an excuse to look pissy and upset now. A painful one.

“Are you alright?” His worried voice came across the counter, a hand in mid-air as if he were about to reach for her. Well at least he had the good sense to drop his earlier line of conversation after that. She thumped the ruined packet back on the counter, rubbing the small lump as she said she’d get him another one. 

He followed. Because of course he did. It took a great deal to bite her tongue when he stuck like a shadow to her side, following her to the frozen section. She tried not to show it, but his presence behind her was unsettling. The awareness of his height advantage. The fact she could barely hear him move at all.  Before she could so much as reach for the fridge door, he did, grabbing the replacement item and turning back to her with a smile that he probably intended to be sweet. “...thanks,” she chirped, feeling her fingers twitch again. Tell me next time if you’re going to get it yourself.

♪⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅♪

As a sidenote, so much of the story relies on Damon meeting the story MC at the exact time he does, otherwise she would have been completely disengaged. Him stalking her would have ended with either him getting rejected and giving up, or her finding out. And since the latter will always end with one of them dead, I wanted to avoid that, hahah

[tipsyon-tea]

Blind Spot - Deleted Scenes - Ch 2

Much of chapter 2 was originally meant to be in DG's POV, but got rewritten and changed. I still have the wips, just be warned that the scene plays out slightly different from the final draft.

For those who haven't read the main fic, this is an altered take on DG trying to scare an MC that can see in the dark.

♪⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅♪

She was a difficult one to get a read on. It wasn't that DG didn't trust his friend’s judgement, but he did wonder if Chewy had gone off the deep end, talking about her being all shy and sweet.  

His expression fell as the two eerie discs of light appeared in the storeroom, slowly rising up to a standing height. Cat eyes. It wasn't much use turning the lights off if the shortstack could see in the dark. He liked it more when they were uncertain, calling out in the dark. She had been such a jumpy little thing before, all flustered and out of sorts over a joke, but this silence wasn't nervous. He knew what it felt like when prey was getting ready for a counterattack.

He briefly considered how far he could take it. Whether it would be worth calling her bluff. His hand resting thoughtfully on the handle to the door, knowing if he closed it he'd be cutting off that night vision of hers. It would disadvantage him as well, but he was willing to bet he had far more experience fighting in dark places.

He was still at work though. Damon might get antsy if he messed with her too much anyway.

He flicked the light back on, laughing to himself when she startled at the brightness. A muttered curse reaching his ears as the broom clattered to the floor. Cute that she thought using it would have helped her. He wanted to see what sort of face she’d make when he ripped off that precious sense of security. Though unfortunately for him, it made things easier for Damon if she still had that on. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he laughed, putting on a false air of cheer as he crossed the room to grab the dustpan and brush off the shelf. He watched her blink a couple times, her gaze narrowed as she finally cleared them of the spots. “I couldn’t resist~ I was hoping you’d have a more interesting reaction, but I guess you’re not all that bothered by the dark.”

“...how do you figure?” She looked over at him, sounding confused, only to stiffen when she saw him approach. How precious. Her gaze flickered to the arm he had partially hidden, and he made no effort to hide his grin as he tucked it further out of sight. 

He came to a stop, grinning at her wary expression. He recognised that look. The apprehension mixed with uncertainty, waiting to see what he did next. He liked it on her. Despite being so jumpy, he got the feeling she wasn’t a total pushover, which was a shame. It'd have been easier to work with her if she was.

“You got cat eyes,” he said, tapping the side of his head. He grinned when she realised. 

“Oh, right.” She raised a hand to her eye, touching the markings on her cheek. It was lamentable that she already knew his toy gun was fake from before. He wanted to see how she reacted, backed into a corner and begging for her life. 

“Ah well, guess I'll have to find another way of messing with you.” He pulled a dustpan and brush from behind his back, waving it at her with a teasing grin. He wasn't sure how she'd managed to smash a singular coffee jar, but the shelves behind her did seem to be for loose stock.

“By making me jump for it?” 

He chuckled. Not that he hadn't considered it. It was just more fun to see her confusion as he walked past her, kneeling down to begin sweeping up the mess. “That's an option,” he agreed with a chuckle. “It was cute you thought the broom was going to save you.”

“It was a solid Plan B,” she said, not sounding impressed.

He could feel her stare on his back, but paid it no mind. There was a beaten up box nearby that he grabbed, folding over the flaps to hold the glass and coffee from the dustpan. "Whatever you say, doll-"

“Oi, dumbass!” The echoing voice of her coworker cut him off, and his eyes narrowed with displeasure. Rasmus, he’d said his name was. DG wasn't a fan. “What’s taking so long?!”

“Fuck me. Here we go,” she muttered. Her grip tightened around the broom, stomping over to the door to poke her head out, and DG had no shame in letting his gaze roam down the view he got. Those pants were certainly doing her favours, and he was no Damon, but he was tempted to take a photo for his best friend’s viewing purposes. “Give me a minute! I’m cleaning up!”

“Cleaning up what?!” The prick’s voice was getting closer. DG decided he may as well. It took all of two seconds to open the camera and click the button, grinning to himself as they continued their shouting match. He typed in a quick message for his dear old buddy, attaching the image before he clicked off the phone. 

[Final delivery for the night~]

“The roller door is open. You’ve got the lights out even though I keep telling you to keep them on-!” Rasmus stopped when he arrived in the doorway, doing a double take as he spotted DG. “And what is he still doing here?!”

“He's helping me clean up the coffee,” she said sourly, leaning against the frame. DG watched with interest as her demeanour shifted, much less of that forced politeness showing. “It got knocked over when I was grabbing the cereal box.”

“Just helping out.” DG finished sweeping up the second pile they had, dumping it into their makeshift bin. “The lights were on me. And your co-worker helped me out, so I’m returning the favour.”

“Don’t cover for her,” Rasmus said, shooting a glare sideways. She waited until his eyes were trained back on DG before throwing her hands up in inarticulate frustration. DG would’ve felt sorry for her, if it wasn’t also hilarious to watch her lose her shit.

“You can go,” she said to DG, stomping back into the room to continue sweeping up the grains of coffee. “It’s my mess, so I’ll deal with it. Thanks for the help though.”

“...aren’t you meant to be watching the store or something?” DG said, grinning at the fuming Rasmus.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but we’re closed. And if your job is done then you’re welcome to leave.”

DG shrugged. There wasn’t any particular reason he should stay. He wasn’t about to stick around for the sake of Damon’s crush. “Sure thing, bud. I’ve loaded it onto your stacker truck, so all you have to do is drive it into its place.”

“Yeah, yeah.” The coworker was clearly not over DG’s earlier prank. Honestly, some people needed to loosen up.

“Well, it was certainly a pleasure doing business with you,” DG said, shooting a wink at the girl over his shoulder as he headed for the door. Rasmus followed him out, closing the roller door almost as soon as DG was outside. DG gave it a bit, but he didn’t hear any shouting start up again, so with a shrug he closed the doors to the van and hopped in the front.

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[tipsyon-tea]

I’d divorce him too lmao

[tipsyon-tea]

Figured I should make use of this crusty old blog and crosspost some work! Not that I have much apart from my Broken Colors fic, but if you enjoy stories where the MC can and will fight back, then you you're welcome to check it out (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

Inspiration of course is from the fantastic game by BlasticHeart and HolySchnitzel.

♪⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅♪

“It was like a treasure hunt,” the cashier said, her cute little incisors peeking out as she held open a torn bag of the gold-wrapped coins. She must have picked it up during their search, Damon realised. He hadn't noticed. The markings under her eyes shifted with her smile. "I’ll have to throw the stock out anyway. May as well enjoy the contents.

He looked down at the foil-wrapped chocolate, unable to believe it until his fingers brushed against them and he felt his heart surge in his chest.

“Thank you so much,” he said, trying to keep his voice light. "And please… be careful at this hour."

"Sure I will!" The cashier surprised him by laughing, and those teeth of hers seemed sharper than before as she looked at him with grinning eyes. "You watch your back too."