Anonymous asked:

Hello, I saw you are a writer and a fan of #psat. I was wondering if you could write me a fic about my OTP, Garcia Lopez de Cardenas x the Man from Boston

apathetic-author answered:

holy shit I WILL DO IT. 

Garcia Lopez de Cardenas stared at the canyon. His clothing was torn by his long trek, yet the sight was so beautiful that all his fatigue seemed to fade away. The raw passion he felt from viewing the virgin sight was astounding. He collapsed onto the sandy outlook and watched the sun glisten on the Grand Canyon, the hues of the rock waltzing with the dying sunset.

If only… if only there was someone to waltz with him. Someone to see this gorgeous sight with him. Suddenly, the bushes behind him began to tremble.

Who could possibly be here? Mr. Cardenas thought to himself. A figure emerged from the bush; a strange man wearing bizarre clothes.

"Ah left ma cahkeys in Bahstan Yahd," the man said.

"Pardon?" Mr. Cardenas responded. "Who are you?"

Mr. Cardenas stepped backwards, then remembered that there was a giant cliff behind him. Alas, it was too late—his foot slipped off the edge. He screamed as he felt himself falling. He grasped at air for something, anything to hold on to. Then a pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around his waist.

"I got yah," Man from Boston whispered, his voice thicker than the globs of blood that spilled on the ground during the Boston Massacre.

"Senpai—I mean, Man from Boston, you saved me," Mr. Cardenas gasped, blushing slightly. In the pale moonlight Man from Boston’s pasty skin made him look like an overweight angel. His fanny pack was perched seductively on his hips, and a smidgen of sunscreen was smeared on his nose.

(Normal people would see the cuteness of Man from Boston, but they wouldn’t see the cuteness of Man from Boston in the way Garcia Lopez de Cardenas did.)

"Whatya wearin’?" Man from Boston said, lightly placing Mr. Cardenas on the ground. "Ya look like yah from September 1540."

"What am I wearing?" Mr. Cardenas replied, his cheeks warming. "Is this.. phone sex?”

The words left his mouth without warning. Mr. Cardenas didn’t even know what a phone was—he didn’t know what any of this was—but it was love. It was wild and crazy and dammit, he was Garcia Lopez de Cardenas and he was madly in love.

"If yah want it to be," The Man from Boston purred.

"This canyon isn’t the only thing that’s wide," Mr. Cardenas said.

"Those rocks ain’t da only thing dat’s hard," Man from Boston said.

Fuck the stupid canyon. Mr. Cardenas was an explorer… and he was ready to discover some new things. ;)