#<- and the fur around his face has turned more grey xoxo

[all-things-ghostly]

I like drawing ash as a silly deer and I don’t care if all the movies in the trilogy take place right after one another with basically no breaks in between, I’m gonna draw his antlers growing a little bigger with each installment to show how long he’s been on testosterone anyways okay. Okay.

[whyaretheyfictionalcharacters]

Kinktober - Day 3

Day 3 is Nudes!

xoxo Lexi

“What were you doing?”.

Eren takes in the photographic studio Levi owns downtown, the huge umbrellas reflecting the brightness coming off from the lamps still on on the opposite side of a wide, grey backdrop. A metal stool with a thick fur blanket thrown over it is abandoned in front of it, like an item from a long forgotten dream. The room is not very spacious – Eren has seen the other rooms Levi uses as studios in the converted warehouse and this is certainly not the biggest one he has – and he knows his husband uses this for his more...intimate commissions. He's never been at one of those sessions but he knows from what Levi has told him that erotic and nude photography can be very tasteful and elegant if done properly. And Levi doesn't do anything if not properly.

“A client is commissioning an album for her partner”, Levi replies as he walks to switch off he blinding studio lights. “High heels is the theme. Have never seen anyone bringing so many shoes in one session”.

“And fur, I presume?”. Eren touches the soft, synthetic blanket, rubbing it between his fingers. The texture is fluffy and comfortable, but if he pays enough attention he can feel the slight roughness of the synthetic fabric. He tries to imagine the blanket in a different context, maybe thrown on the floor in front of a lit fireplace, like at the cabin they've rented for Levi's birthday last Christmas. Eren can imagine it sliding against his naked skin, figuring how it'd feel down his body.

“And nothing else”.

There is nothing much to add about the session Levi has just had and Eren knows better than enquire about the client and her identity. Not for jealousy – Levi s one of the most straightforward people he's ever met – but because Eren values privacy more than anything else in regards to intimacy and eroticism. The only thing Levi told him more than once is that there are a lot of individuals “in the Scene” that he knows requesting these sort of photographs. For the older man it's always been a job like another and as a man of the “Scene” himself, Levi doesn't mind complying to help others achieve their kinks and pleasures. If erotic photography is a kink, Eren is not really a connoisseur. He's personally never been portrayed by Levy despite the raven-haired numerous attempts at doing so, however…

Eren knows he's a good looking guy – he's not that oblivious – but the idea of posing naked in front of the camera makes his blood rush quicker in his veins and butterflies sparkle in his stomach in an anxious way. And yet, now...maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

“Would you—”.

At the unsure words Levi turns from the lamp, his trusty travel mug probably full of Lapsang Souchong held firmly in his hand. “What?”.

Come on, Eren. He's your husband. He's seen you naked more times than your mother has. “Would you want to—to photograph me? You know, naked. Like your client”.

Deep, grey eyes stare at him seemingly blank though Eren sees the minute difference in the pupils, something he's trained himself to do after almost three years of marriage. Levi twists his obdy to face him now, full attention completely on him. “You know I would”.

“Do you have another appointment soon?”. A shake of the head is all the answer he needs. Eren inhales deeply attempting to build himself up. “Right. So...”.

“So...”.

“How do you want me?”.

The brunet can sense his body becoming a bit restless under the attentive scrutiny of his husband, who brings his hand up and switches back on the lamp. “Naked”.

Fair enough, Eren thinks with an affectionate eye-roll and a small smile. While Levi goes to set back up the studio, he takes off his navy sweater and begins to unbutton his dress shirt; his hands are shaking annoyingly hard and the act of working off his clothes resembles more a herculean task worthy of a classic, Greek epic poem on its own. It's so frustrating how nervous he is considering this is certainly not the first time he's undressed in front of his husband and yet it all feels new. It takes him what seems like an hour before he can hand his discarded clothes to Levi, who as usual folds them neatly and puts them on one side.

Eren looks down at the metal stool for a minute before focusing back up on the older man. “What do I have to do?”.

“Stand behind the stool first. Legs apart. Wider. One hand behind your back”. When Eren complies he fixes marginally his pose. “Not something I do with clients but I can touch this, can't I?”, he asks referring to the tanned body.

The twenty-seven year old sees an almost invisible smirk on the other's thin lip and he can't help but huff a laughter. “Was that in our vows?”.

“No. It would've been grand, though. Especially in front of our parents. 'I'll take thee from behind, front and side every day for the rest of our lives as my legitimate husband'”. Eren explodes in a full-belly laugh, his abdominals shaking with hilarity. “Imagine your father's face”.

“Oh, he's seen worse things up people's butts. I've seen worse and I'm just a family doctor”.

“Ever told you I don't envy you one bit?”.

“Yep”, Eren grins with fondness.

Levi makes him grab the stool with his right hand and he pushes it forward slightly, only the front legs touching the hardwood floor now. “Come forward. A bit more. That's it, stop”.

Looking down, Eren notices the top curve of the stool – now sitting uncomfortably cold against the hidden soft member – is leaving the lighter skin of his groin bare to the eye. The only thing left to the imagination is the size of his dick, the rest? Pretty much everything is well in sight. Levi's steps appear deafening loud in the silence of the studio before a warm weight is placed on his left shoulder. He studies with detached interest while Levi does his job, throwing artistically the fur blanket over his shoulder. After the last light fixes are done, the brightness suffused to a more intimate luminosity, the older man marches back to prepare his camera.

As he waits, Eren can sense goosebumps appearing on his arms but even naked in the middle of a brick-walled room he's not cold; the jitters are palpable as he stands there, muscles tight and jaw clenched.

“You're as sexy as an antique wardrobe”, Levi mutters from behind his viewfinder.

A confused frown. “Are those sexy?”.

“No”. The deadpan almost makes him laugh. “Relax, brat. You're trying to seduce me, not make me sign up for the army”.

“Right. Right, yes”, he sighs. “Uniforms are sexy, though”.

“You're not wearing a uniform”.

“Right”.

He hears a few clicks, sees Levi change position but still staying dead on in front of him. Eren is not completely uncomfortable, though the chill of the metal against his groin seems to be spreading to his whole body now. When he tells the other, Levi rushes to fetch a space heater and puts him outside the frame but still close enough that the warm air hits pleasantly Eren's legs and hips. It seems to go on forever before the older man tell him to leave the stool and blanket on the side and pick up his white shirt.

“I want you to wear it and then take it off down to your elbows”, he's told with the same assertiveness Levi sometimes uses in the bedroom. “Turn on your side, left leg forward”.

After Levi has adjusted the lighting some more he joins Eren in front of the backdrop and twists his arms around so that the shirt hanging from his left arm covers his groin. Through the viewfinder he can notice the sensual, tight curve of Eren's cheeks highlighted by the shirt white hanging behind it. He's been numerous times in this sort of situation – taking nude pictures, sometimes even sexually appealing ones – and always, always kept his professional wits about him. His mind has always looked at what he was seeing under an objective, artistic point of view. Yet now, having his own husband posing naked in front of him is enough to make his jeans feel a bit too tight.

“Look forward”. He takes a few more shots and zooms in. “Look at me”. Eren turns his head. “No, head facing forward still. Just look at me with your eyes”.

“Won't I be ridiculous?”.

“If you think about how much I want to fuck you right now, probably you won't be”.

Eren chokes on his own spit, sputtering inelegantly before glaring at the other. “Levi!”.

“What? It's boudoir photography, Eren. I'm taking nude pictures of my husband right now”.

“So, you want me to think about having sex with you while I'm standing here, naked?”.

Levi looks up from his camera, eyes burning behind black lashes. “If that helps with you relaxing”.

A throat clears uncomfortably and then Eren follows the instructions he's been given. He can't really see Levi in this position. There's a black and pink mass of colour on the corner of his eyes as he tries to stare where he assumes the camera is, and for the first time since he's taken his clothes off Eren lets his mind travel.

The way Levi has always looked at him in the bedroom is something he can't seem to ever forget, with his usual cold eyes burning with lust as Eren walks out of their en-suite with only a towel around his neck, his body still damp from the shower. He can envision the raven-haired lying on their bed, ankles crossed and arms behind his head, watching every line of Eren's body. Levi would have to be naked as well in this setting, obviously, because his physique is the most attractive piece of art he's ever seen. Levi's body is perfect with strong lines flowing straight down his stomach, the bedside lamps creating hypnotic games of light and shadows on his cutting abs; the well-defined cord of his biceps as his head rests on his hands.

“Now we're getting there”.

Levi's voice reaches him like a bucket of ice water and he shakes himself, sight focussing back on Levi taking a few more pictures of him before walking to his laptop to check the shots he's just uploaded from his camera.

As time goes by he's asked to changed position endless times, alongside props and lighting equipment – Eren's never known this was the work that goes behind one shooting session and fortunately Levi doesn't seem to have another client booked for the remaining of the late afternoon. As the day draws to a close Eren relaxes more and more, comfortable in his own skin the more time he's standing naked in the middle of the studio. It's a forbidden feeling the one he has as he poses bare for his husband while Levi takes picture after picture: the knowledge that he shouldn't be doing this is almost disorienting, sending a rush to his brain in a pleasant way when he starts to enjoy the evening spent doing exactly this. When Levi gives him the all-clear to get dressed again before disappearing behind the door that leads to the public area of his photographic studio, Eren takes his time doing so despite small shivers shaking down his muscles from the cold.

He's sitting on the chair tying up his shoes, Levi walks back in with a steaming mug of tea which is handed to him with a small, familiar smile and a kiss on the cheek. “I asked Mina to help me out cleaning up in here. We can go home after that, I'll work on them and we can look at them together next week if you want to come down here again after work”.

[artificialqueens]

Sensory Overload (Branjie) - SnowBun

A/N: Well… this took about a week to write, and a lot of feigning ignorance about finals. But, WHO CARES? This was so draining to write, but it was tons of fun to do. Hope you guys enjoy! xoxo

His eyes glaze over as he drinks in the faded orange of the Los Angeles skyline. He feels the warm summer air against the bare skin of his arms, and even if he never really left, everything somehow looks different. It looks so much bigger, so much more free than he remembers.

He doesn’t remember much from the first two days home from the show. All he can recall is that he’d curled up and cried about not making it to the finale the first night, and that he’d slept the whole day for the second.

By the third, he’s awake enough to realize that the exhaustion has seeped into his muscles. He can still feel his back aching from every comment Michelle threw at her, every attempt to do better only to fall flat on her face weighing it down for weeks.

For now, no one knows, and she returns to being the gay community’s favorite meme.

He doubts he’ll be able to shake off the memories clinging to his clothes like the smoke of menthol cigarettes, however long it’s been since filming ended.

Menthol cigarettes.

He remembers the way her lips, painted a bright shade of pink like the filling of Pop Tarts that she used to eat as a kid, wrap around the end of what she’d once jokingly called ‘a white death stick.’ Brooke had laughed and confided that she’d tried to quit many times before.

In the heat of the competition, he knew better than to push the topic.

Looking across the horizon again, he remembers how the same orange hue would paint the gravel of parking lots on smoke breaks. It brings him back to toned arms snaking their way around her corset-trained waist.

“Fuck it.”

He’s reckless, and he knows it. He knows that he’s getting into a sports car, and slamming his foot on the damned pedal like he’s inviting the fucking car crash to come at him. He misses him enough to not really care.

He types out the message on his phone, tentative fingers making up empty words that he fills with all the hope he has. Sure, they’d agreed to give whatever was going on between them a shot, but outside the four pink walls of the werkroom, it all seems like a fever dream.

Without even going over the message, he presses send and immediately texts Silky to invite her out for a drink or ten before rushing right out the door.

When he returns home to Nashville, the first thing he does is cuddle Henry and Riley. He showers their tiny furry faces with kisses, and completely forgets his suitcases by the door. His heart swells at their affectionate meows before they rest lazily at his feet.

He doesn’t even bother to change out of his sweatshirt and shorts when he sprawls his long limbs out on the couch, his feet hanging off one of the armrests. He relaxes for once after numerous sleepless nights spent practicing a magic show or finishing dresses made of denim and dried oranges.

He blinks and all of a sudden, the light streaming in through the window is gone. As Henry curls up on his chest, he realizes that he’d drifted off to a deep, comfortable sleep. He scratches at the dark grey fur, and reaches for his phone on the coffee table.

A quick sense of dread flashes over him before he opens it. He expects a hundred different emails about future gigs, but he knows that any mention of work will only remind him even more about how tired he is.

What he doesn’t expect to see is Vanessa’s name at the top of all the notifications.

The smell of strong, musky cologne and artificial vanilla from liquid lipsticks cloud his senses. His brain is suddenly addled by the fusion of reality with the almost fantastical world that he’d just left behind.

He opens the chat, and quickly glances at their brief exchange from ages ago. He’d messaged her after she’d been eliminated on season 10, and he almost feels a sense of pride at knowing he was right in saying that she would move on to bigger things.

V: Hey, you back yet lol

He smiles to himself, in spite of how dazed he is.

B: Yeah, why?

It only takes a moment before three gray dots start flashing. He can’t say he’s not amazed that he wants to talk to him, not after how the show had ended. They’d said it wasn’t personal, but he still feels bad about pulling her away from her dream.

V: Nothing, just checking on you lol

It doesn’t take long before his phone starts to ring with Vanessa Vanjie Mateo’s name drawn out in big white letters right on the screen.

“Hey.”

He knows it’s ridiculous for him to miss his voice, he really does. What had happened between them was supposed to be light and easy; but when he feels the pang in his chest when he picks up the phone, he knows he wants more.

“Hey yourself.”

“How you been?”

“I just got back earlier. You?”

“Bitch, I’m tired as shit.”

Tired tastes like cocktail kisses in Untucked. Tired sounds like the rumbling of the van engine after a long day of filming. Tired looks like gold glitter shimmering on tan skin. Tired feels like a warm embrace when everything feels like too much. Tired smells like coconut shampoo.

He knows that he’s not tired because he wants to be.

“I miss you.”

The words are a shot in the dark, and all he can hear is the quiet chatter of the TV on the other end. He wonders what he looks like, what he’s wearing, what he’s doing. He doesn’t have to wonder how he’s feeling. His heart’s always on display.

“I miss you too.”

There’s a silence that washes over them, but neither of them hangs up. He knows his phone bill is probably going to be fucked if this keeps happening, but he doesn’t care. He thinks that he hears Julia Roberts’ voice come from the TV, and he can’t help himself from smiling.

“I’ll be in Chicago a couple of days,” He feels for the words in his mouth, trying his best not to think too much. “Want to meet me?”

“As long as you’re paying the hotel, bitch.”

The next two months pass by in a hazy, busy bliss. Chicago, Los Angeles, Nashville and just about every city where they hole up in hotel rooms all day turn into pictures that they post on Instagram because right now, they have the luxury of not giving a fuck.

Jose waved off any bad flood from their lipsync and Vanjie’s subsequent elimination. He could practically hear the thoughts running through Brock’s head, and quickly kissed them away, stating that “it was just drag.”

It still doesn’t stop Brock from holding him closer and pressing featherlight kisses to his temple on nights when he fears the statement’s half-hearted.

The reality that they’ve built for themselves is safe. He’s so utterly content that he thinks his heart might explode in his chest, and bitch, Allie and Noah better watch out.

He nuzzles his face into Brock’s neck as he basks in the afterglow. His hand splays out on the planes of his toned stomach, fingertips lightly tickling the skin there, and he hears a contented sigh.

“Boo.”

“Mmm.”

He nips at his skin, fully intending to leave a mark. Anything that would scream that in some far-flung country, state or city, there was a man that wanted to see flowers bloom on skin because he wanted him, craved him, longed for him.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

His body shakes in his arms as he chuckles. He takes a deep breath, and he knows that he’s never going to forget this. The zing of deodorant. The sex in the air. The smell that is just so completely Brock that he wants it to fill his lungs and destroy them the way he knew cigarettes destroyed his.

Brock slaps his ass, and he groans at the loss of contact when he rolls out of bed. “I’m going to get a snack, you want anything?”

He props himself up on his elbow, and raises his eyebrows at her. “You got the munchies?”

There’s a wordless shrug, and he leaves the room. He lays in silence for a moment, cocooning himself in the sheets the way he imagines Asia’s cursed little butterflies did. It’s warm and perfect and just oh so safe.

When Brock returns with leftover chicken and two sets of utensils, even though he’d never answered him when he asked if he wanted anything, he feels it like a punch to the gut that knocks the wind straight out of him.

He’s truly, totally, utterly fucked.

Neither of them is quite sure how they did it, but they’d successfully spent the whole month apart. Brock feels like he’s 16, pining over a boy and letting his heart leap out of his chest at the sound of Jose’s voice on every Facetime call.

They go to a bar to meet Detox the night he arrives in LA. Her eyes dart from queen to queen when Jose presses a kiss to his lips before excusing himself to go to the restroom. The look on her face is so quizzical that he has to laugh.

“Sooo,” Detox draws out the word, swirling the bright pink straw in her drink. “You won more than just challenges I guess.”

He laughs, and blushes as he’s teased until Jose returns to practically sit on his lap for the rest of the night.

By midnight, the two of them are standing at the curb outside. He feels a forehead press against his back with arms wrapped around his waist as he tries to book an Uber. He brings a knuckle up to his lips, and feels the hold on him tighten.

“It’s almost here, boo.”

There’s a sigh when he pulls away from him, and a silver car pulls up in front of them shortly. They climb into the back, and he shoots a glare at Jose when he cackles at how his legs fold in the small backseat.

The ride is initially silent, apart from the Christian music playing on the radio. There’s a hand spread out on his thigh, and he turns to him with raised eyebrows. He’s still looking out the window, but the teasing smile on his face gives him away.

The driver starts to hum along to the music, and the hand drifts to the front of his pants, right out of the driver’s purview. He lets out an almost inhuman squeak, and fuck, his brain has stopped working.

The palm starts to work gently, applying extra pressure, and he has to bite back a moan. The world has started to turn dark with lust, and he knows that the ten-minute ride to the apartment is going to feel like hours.

They pass a gay club that he knows Vanjie frequently performs at, and hears the driver grumble about queens being too loud, but his brain is too far gone to really process the words properly.

“I’m never quiet, am I?” There’s a low whisper against the curve of his ear, and he feels a shiver run through his body. He plays back the sound of his scream as he pushes him off the precipice of ecstasy, and he almost faints.

The driver turns the corner on to the street of the apartment, and the palm works harder. He tries to focus on the song playing, something about a king, as they get closer. The hand stills on his half-hard dick, and he sighs in relief as the car stops.

He doesn’t remember rushing up to the apartment, but he knows he gets there in record time. He backs him up against the door, and kisses him like it’s too much. He is too much, and he wants all of it.

When his jacket falls to the ground, he feels his skin burn as hands claw at him. He whispers his name against his lips, over and over again, trying to say all the words he knows he cannot say because his brain is a clusterfuck.

He holds his breath as the other man falls to his knees, fully intending to worship everything that he is. There’s only one thought that he can muster before everything gets reduced into sound and feeling.

He’s completely fucked.

“This is my boyfriend, Jose.”

It feels good.

No, it feels right.

The smile on Brock’s face is so full of pride. It is the universe deciding to invent itself at some point, or no point, in time. It is everything that is real, but should not be because nothing should be so perfect.

He repeats the words to his mother, his sister, his drag mother, everyone he cares about. This is the birthday gift he never knew he wanted, all tied up with string. He thinks it’s almost as good as winning the crown.

Almost.

“Shit, I think your mom tried to kill me.”

He feels like he’s eaten his body weight in food when he crashes onto the couch, and hears Brock laugh as he pours out two glasses of wine for them in the kitchen. With each little movement, he whines at the slight discomfort.

“That just means she likes you.” He looks to the kitchen, and sees Brock’s head buried in the fridge, trying to find the Chalet sauce that he’d purposely saved from lunch earlier in the day.

“Bitch, how can you still eat?”

“It’s Swiss Chalet.” He answers matter-of-factly, and drinks the sauce.

He watches him saunter over to the couch, and set the wine in front of them. He turns the TV on, returning to the part of The Notebook where they’d stopped earlier in the day because he’d complained that “tear markings ain’t a good look when meeting someone’s mom.”

They end up cuddling on the couch as they watch the movie, his legs thrown over Brock’s lap and their fingers intertwined. The credits start to play, but they don’t move. No, it’s too peaceful for either of them to try.

“I love you.”

The words are muffled into his hair, but he’s never heard anything so clearly in his life. In hindsight, it doesn’t really change anything. He knows that the words started to blossom like wildflowers without either of them being aware of it.

But he sees the bright colors of the petals in Brock’s hands, holding them so gently as to not crush them. He hands him the words, and he can feel how delicate they are, how easy it is to let them fly in the cold air of Toronto.

“I love you too.”

He hears the chime signaling midnight come from Brock’s phone, and feels a kiss at the top of his head.

“Happy birthday, boo.”

J: Help me pick a bed frame

J: sent 2 photos

B: The first one

B: Want me to head over to LA next weekend

J: I have a show in NYC, sorry

B: That’s okay, love u

J: Love u 2

B: Mom says she misses you!!!

J: Awe she’s sweet, tell her I miss her 2!

J: Want me to come over for NYE

B: Hosting a party, sorry

J: Alright

B: Love u

J: Love u 2

“I think we need to take a break.”

The words are a joke, and he knows it. It’s easy to break glass bottles and KitKats and highlighters that cost a hundred dollars, but breaking what they have? He thinks it may need years and years to tear it all down. Words don’t seem to suffice.

There’s a quiver to the bottom of his boyfriend’s lip, and he instantly regrets what he’s done, even though he’s convinced himself a million times that this is what would be best for them. For him.

He’s not sure he’ll be able to survive it.

The expression on his face cycles between a handful of emotions. Anger, sorrow, confusion, and a mix of all three in different parts. His heart is still out on his sleeve, and he’s slicing it open and pouring salt on the wound.

“Why?”

The answer to his question is gone. He doesn’t know why. He only knows that before that moment, there was a reason so important that he took a flight just to say it. He deserves better than a sorry excuse on a Facetime call.

His voice is stuck in his throat, and he can barely breathe, and the words are all tangled up in his brain like the yarn he tossed at his cats before he left for LA, and—Jesus, he didn’t think it would hurt this bad.

“I’m just not sure I can handle this right now.”

His answer is honest, but not completely. He doesn’t tell him that he can’t handle his own thoughts. He doesn’t tell him he can’t handle one night when he wants so much more. He doesn’t tell him he can’t handle feeling something so strongly that it threatens to destroy him.

The humorless laugh that comes from his mouth is cruel, and he knows he deserves it. He deserves the pain that comes with giving up. He deserves to watch the flowers they’ve planted wither away in the cold of winter.

He wants him to say something, anything else that will hurt. Anything that will convince him that this isn’t a mistake; but he knows that he won’t. He knows that he’s too good for him, too amazingly kind for him, and he will never kill that longing for him because it’s what he deserves.

“Alright bitch,” The tone of his voice has no malice, and his heart breaks in half. “If that’s what you want.”

He nods, even if it isn’t.

The second night of promo week is full of screaming and laughter. Some of the girls like Nina and Soju have changed out of drag, but she can’t be bothered. She’s spent too much money on her outfit that she ignores the discomfort of the pink feathers tickling at her neck.

“Yeeess!”

The girls are yelling as Silky and her take shots of tequila. She feels it burn as it travels down her throat, into her stomach, and settling in the open wounds she hasn’t quite allowed to heal yet.

Everyone starts to diffuse about the hotel bar into their own little groups, but she doesn’t move. She wants to convince herself that she doesn’t want to go around because of the fact that her heels are squishing her toes together, but she’s never been very good at acting.

The world hasn’t ended. Not really. The earth has continued turning on its axis, and rotating about the sun. It doesn’t give a fuck about the broken heart in her chest that can’t quite understand how to heal.

New York is the epitome of it all. It feels like a large, open space that has a place for just about everyone; but she doesn’t feel like she belongs anywhere. At least not tonight.

“Hey.”

There’s a smile on Brooke’s face as if there’s nothing wrong, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She looks absolutely gorgeous, and she wants to fucking yell at her for it. Or maybe she just wants to fuck her. Either works, really.

“Hey yourself.”

Brooke orders them two more shots of tequila, and she cocks an eyebrow at her.

“You trying to get me drunk, Miss Brooke Lynn?” She throws the hair of her pink wig over one shoulder. This isn’t what she was expecting. She thought they’d spend the next week only talking for interviews, and ignoring each other beyond that.

But she doesn’t complain.

“I,” Brooke raises her glass, and she sees the color of diluted amber swish in it. “Just wanna hang out with a friend.”

The word friend burns more than the tequila does, but hell, if it isn’t the best that she’s felt in two weeks.

“So, you been getting your bookings?” She tries her best to make small-talk, even if she’s always been way too loud for that kind of thing.

“Yeah,” She leans against the bar, and she notices that she looks drained. No amount of makeup can hide the lack of a smile that she’s become accustomed to. “I’ve been here and there lately. I just wanna go home to the cats, though.”

“Oooh, bitch,” She throws her hands up. “You really love them pussies, don’t you?”

Brooke’s laugh is priceless, and when she hears it, she feels like they might be alright. This isn’t what she’d expected or wanted, but it’s a start. The realization is enough, for now.

They’re okay.

“Hey, where you at?”

The volume on his phone is low, but it sounds like she’s on speaker. Even over the thumping bass of the club, Vanjie’s voice rings true and—well, the word isn’t clear exactly. It’s just loud.

“We’re outside already, hold on.”

“Y’all better hurry over here, or I’m whoppin’ your asses!”

She hangs up on him, and he turns to Nina, as if to ask if he looks alright. She gives him a thumbs up, and he feels a flash of gratitude. Of all the queens he wants to be with him tonight, it’s Nina.

They’ve been texting and Facetiming for the past month. On his birthday, he’d called him after three shots, saying happy birthday in the back of a bar somewhere across the country. His voice was soft and sweet, and he made his birthday wish to have him in his arms the next morning.

As they make a beeline for the back, he can’t hear anything but the pounding of his heart in his ears. Everything fades away when the door opens, and he sees her standing in her glittering upside-down jersey and short pink wig.

He thinks she’s never looked better.

“Heeey!”

When her arms wrap around his neck, he thinks he might burst into tears. She’s so close, and he feels how warm she is, smells her signature cologne, hears her whisper that she’s happy to see him. It’s sensory overload.

Too quickly, she lets go and moves on to Nina. She begins to copy Vanjie’s voice, and the room fills with laughter. His sides start to hurt, and it feels so damn good to laugh like this again.

Vanjie’s in the middle of telling her manager something when Nina starts a conversation with him without words. She widens her eyes at him, and he lets out a shaky breath. It takes a moment, but he relents with a nod.

“Hey Vanjie,” She whips her head to look at him, expression so soft and kind that he almost loses the courage to speak. “Can we talk? Like alone?”

“Uhm,” She looks around the room, and apologetically throws a look at her manager. “Can we get a minute?

Nina ushers Vanjie’s manager and the bar’s owner outside, and before she leaves, she flashes him a smile for luck. The door clicks shut, and the room is filled with the vibration of the music and the air conditioner, but in the silence, he isn’t sure what to say.

She’s standing at least eight feet away, but he feels like it’s farther than LA to Nashville. He wants to pull her close, wants her to understand. He has to breathe deeply to keep himself from passing out.

“So,” She clicks her tongue as she runs a hand through her wig. “What did you wanna talk about?”

“I’m sorry.”

The words tumble straight out of his mouth. The look on her face is puzzled, so he musters up the courage to continue what he’s started, even if it means tearing down the walls that keep him safe.

“I don’t want to be away from you.” He says, tears threatening to spill out his eyes. “I was so scared of wanting something so bad that I started to overthink, and I just want you to know that I love you and—”

She pulls him down to cut off his rambling. He thinks she tastes like alcohol, vodka perhaps, and it’s all so fitting because he’s drunk on her again. She tangles her way into every fiber of his being, and the world turns into shades of wine-red and pink.

He doesn’t believe that the universe falls into a place when he kisses Jose, but the feeling of his lips shows him what it feels like. It isn’t quite the stars aligning, but it’s good enough for him.

“I’m sorry.”

He whispers the words against her lips, and she shushes him. He knows that there’s probably lipstick on his face, but he doesn’t care. He kisses her again, softer this time, savoring the way she feels.

“Hey, baby?”

“Yeah?”

“They got a camera up in here.”

He looks up to the corner of the room, and proudly kisses his boyfriend with fervor.

“Let them see.”

J: Reunion airing this week

B: They’re finally gonna know

J: How much I love that fine ass of yours

B: Haha

B: Okay, I’m about to board

J: C u in two hours

J: Love u

B: Love u 2

[etherealwaifgoddess]

Two Of A Kind

Main Characters: Loki (Laufeyson) Odinson, Thor Odinson

Summary: Loki receives an unexpected and gift from his brother.

Warnings: None! Just sweet fluff :)

Word Count:3,276

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! Two new fics in two days... ya’ll are getting spoiled again! So this little fic is for the amazing @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan ‘s writing challenge. Star is such an incredible writer, if ya’ll haven’t read her stuff I highly recommend checking her out. For her challenge, I snagged the prompt  “Why did you do it?” for Loki. 

Please note:  this is very non-canon compliant! It’s set after the first Avengers movie but let’s just pretend Thor has Loki kept at the Avengers Tower under house arrest instead of taking him back to Asgard for punishment. Okay? Okay :)

XOXO - Ash

Two Of A Kind

Loki is not the most agreeable man on the best of days, and on the worst of days, well it’s better just to let him roam the halls in solitude. Thor had started to worry about Loki though, too many days spent in self imposed isolation and biting people’s heads off at every turn. Thor knows Loki doesn’t want to spend his “sentence” in the Avengers tower but he needs to be contained after the incident in New York and the tower is a safe place. Thor trusts his fellow Avengers with his life. Thor spends hours researching online how to bring comfort to people who were housebound and isolated. Most articles recommend a companion animal and Thor is coming around to the idea when Natasha comes home raving about a litter of kittens she found on a mission and dropped off at a local animal shelter. 

Thor doesn’t think to ask Tony about bringing a pet into the Avengers tower until he’s halfway to the shelter and at that point he decides to risk it rather than go all the way back. The shelter looks almost like a regular pet store with various pens around the shop, each containing a different animal. All of the puppies in their bins jump up to greet him as he walks through to the desk and he has to resist the urge to pet them along the way. He is there on a mission. 

“Hello, excuse me.” Thor says anxiously. He doesn’t want to interrupt but he’s been standing in front of the desk for a while and the girl hasn’t lifted her head once. 

“Sorry, one minute.” the girl replies. She’s young, barely in her twenties with bright purple hair and a delicate silver hoop in her nose. She types furiously as she squints at the computer screen and ends whatever she was working on with a sharp, satisfied press of the enter button. “Okay, what can I help you with?” she asks looking up at Thor for the first time since he’d arrived.

Thor chuckles despite himself as her face falls and she begins stammering an apology, “It’s alright. You’re doing important work here.” he assures her, “I’m looking for a cat if you could help me. My friend Natasha brought in a litter of kittens earlier and I thought I might want one.” 

“Sure, yeah, of course. They still need their shots and vet visit but you can see them at least. They’re still in the back.” the girl motions for Thor to follow her around back to the holding area. “They’ve been cleaned up but you still might not want to handle them until a vet clears them.” 

“Aesir cannot contract any Midgardian ailments. I have no concerns over these little ones.” Thor opens the gate to the four small kittens inside the cage and begins petting them, seeing which ones are the most friendly. One little pure grey kitten in the back perks it’s head up but is pushed back by the others when it tries to approach. It lets out a pitiful mew and Thor scoops it up in his large palm to bring it out to him. The kitten looks up at him with wide green eyes and what Thor thinks must be appreciation. He gives its little head a few pets and to his surprise the kitten begins to lick at his palm eagerly. “Do cats usually do this? I thought licking was a dog trait?” he asks the girl.

The girl shakes her head, “No, it’s not common. She must like you.” 

“I’ll take her.” 

The girl blinks in disbelief at his decisiveness. “Well, we have a lot of forms to fill out and you have to be approved and then there’s the vet visit she still needs but that should be tomorrow afternoon. Can you bring the forms back later today or tomorrow and we’ll let you know once she’s seen by our vet?” 

“I can fill them out now.” Thor offers and the girl nods, leading him back out front. 

True to his word, Thor settles in to fill out the forms on a clipboard sitting crossed legged on the floor by a pen of jack russel puppies. He leaves the shelter with a lighter heart, knowing he has a plan in motion to help ease his brother’s suffering. 

~~~~~~

It takes two days for the kittens to be cleared to leave the shelter and Thor was a nervous wreck waiting. He gave Tony a heads up since he’d had the time and all Tony did was shrug and warn Thor he wasn’t going to get stuck with litter box duty. 

Thor arrives five minutes before the shelter opens the morning he can finally pick up the kitten and he’s bouncing lightly on his heels when an older woman opens the door at 9am. “You’re here for the little grey kitten?” she asks but it’s a rhetorical question.

Thor nods, “Yes, ma’am. And I was told I would be able to purchase some basic supplies as well?”

“Mmhmm.” the old woman mumbles as she takes out the forms for Thor to sign to release the kitten to him. “We have a litter box and some litter, a bag of dry food, a few cans of wet food, food and water dishes, and a collar all set aside for you. That should get you started for a few days.” 

“I appreciate it.” Thor says genuinely. 

“Just be sure to get more supplies within the next day or two and set up the next vet appointment for her last round of shots in four weeks.” 

“I will, thank you.” Thor signs the last of the papers and hands them back to her. 

The woman collects the kitten and the two large bags of supplies and brings everything out front for him. Thor takes the crate in his hand gingerly, trying not to upset the kitten inside, and loops the other two bags around one heavily muscled arm. “Thank you, again.”

“Take care.” the woman smiles at him kindly and opens the front door for him.

Thor heads back to the Avengers Tower walking much slower than he usually would. He doesn’t know much about kittens but he knows a little about babies and those you can definitely not jostle around too much. Every block he stops to check on the kitten and she just blinks at him hesitantly with her wide green eyes. He finds himself talking to her along the way, assuring her she’s going to have a lovely home and be well taken care of from now on. Thor hopes that Loki will feel the same level of protectiveness over her. 

Back at the tower Thor sets the bags in his room, wanting to surprise Loki with his gift. “FRIDAY” he calls out to the ever present AI, “Can you please tell me where Loki is?” 

“Loki is located in the common room.” FRIDAY announces.

“Thank you FRIDAY.” 

Thor takes the kitten out of her travel crate and after giving her a few pets, tucks her into the large front pocket of his hooded sweatshirt. The kitten snuggles in and Thor heads out to find his brother.

Loki is draped artfully over the cream colored sofa in the common room, stretched out across two of the wide cushions with one leg dangling off the armrest. He’s reading a thick leather bound book in one hand and tossing an uneaten apple in the other. 

“Hello brother.” he says before Thor can speak. He doesn’t look up from his book until he finishes the paragraph he’s reading and then he assess Thor with a curious expression. “What do need, Thor? Out with it.”

“I wanted to help bring you solace in your time here.” Thor explains hesitantly.

“Really, Thor? What could you possibly think will help this situation? You’re the one who imprisoned me in this god awful tower.”  

Thor has the decency to look chagrined, “I got you a companion.” 

“A companion?” Loki parrots with an eye roll.

“Yes, look.” Thor pulls the kitten out of his pocket and holds it towards Loki. The tiny kitten looks even smaller in the god’s large palm and her eyes are bright, emerald green against her rich grey fur. 

Loki all but recoils, “A cat? Are you mad?” Loki backs away on the sofa. “Thor, why did you do it?” 

“You seemed lonely, isolated. I thought a companion would bring you comfort.” Thor is beginning to question his decision and is about to say never mind and keep the poor kitten for himself. 

“Fine then,” Loki huffs, “Give it here then.” 

“You do not have to…”

“I said give it here, Thor.” Loki gets up off the sofa and plucks the kitten out of Thor’s hands. He lifts it up closer to his face to study it. “Is it a girl or boy?” 

“A girl.”

“Hmm. Fine. Fine. Where are her things?”

“I’ll move them to your room now. Truly, brother, if you do not want her…”

“Let it be, Thor.” Loki rolls his eyes and stalks off with the kitten clutched against his chest. 

Loki wanders the halls giving Thor time to move the kittens things into his room. By the time Loki makes his way back to his room at the far end of the tower there are two large bags sitting on his table. Loki is reluctant to put the kitten down but can’t set things up one handed. “Alright, little one.” he tells her, “Settle in here and I will get your things sorted out.” He sets the kitten down on his bed and she crawls up to lay down on his pillow. Loki smirks and doesn’t bother to shoo her off. 

Loki skims over the care instructions provided in the bag and sets things up around his room. He’s pleased by how well he’s able to fit her things around his. Once done Loki stretches out across the bed to watch the kitten who’s currently watching him with her intelligent green eyes. “You need a name, little one.” he tells her. Loki rolls onto his back and pulls her onto his chest so he can watch her as she nuzzles at him. “Affectionate little thing, aren’t you? We’ll call you Elska then.” Loki gives her soft pets atop her head and croons her name, letting her get used to hearing it. 

Elska lays down on Loki eventually and falls asleep right on his chest. He wants to move her but doesn’t have the heart to, so he scrolls through his phone instead, looking up all sorts of things to buy for her. He never would have gotten a pet on his own but now that he has her, he will do everything to give her the best life possible. All funded by Tony Stark’s Amazon account. 

~~~~~ 

Several hours and almost a thousand dollars later, Loki hears a tentative knock on his door. Elksa has wandered off and Loki wraps up his latest purchase before going to the door. Thor is standing in the hall, hands tucked in his pockets, and he glances anxiously inside Loki’s room. 

“Can I help you?” Loki asks, eyebrow raised.

“Just checking on how you two are getting along.” he admits. 

Loki rolls his eyes at his brother. “We’re fine. You need not fear for her well being.” 

“I didn’t mean to imply… I know you wouldn’t hurt her….” Thor sighs heavily, “Do you want me to order food and supplies for her? The woman at the shelter said it was only enough to get you started and you’ll have to get more.”

“I’ve already procured everything she’ll need. Tony really needs to update his Amazon password more often.” 

“Good. Good. Well, if you need anything…”

“We’re fine. Goodbye Thor.” Loki’s tone is pointed and Thor knows he’s being dismissed. He nods and heads off down the hall hoping desperately that Loki comes around to the idea of having a pet. 

Loki closes the door and scoops Elska up from where she’s nosing around in his shoes. “Silly Uncle Thor.” he tells her. 

~~~~~~~~

The following day the Amazon truck pulls up to the Avengers Tower and begins unloading a mountain of boxes in the lobby. Everyone is milling around, confused and concerned when Loki strolls through to collect his things. “Thank you, I’ll be taking all of this up to my quarters.” he announces lifting up the first large box. 

Tony sputters in annoyance, “You owe me, Rock of Ages!” he shouts at Loki’s back. 

Loki ignores him and continues on his way to the elevator. After numerous trips Loki finally gets everything back to his room and the space is covered in cardboard boxes. It takes him twice as long to unpack everything as it did to get it up there and he’s ready for a break by the time he’s loading the cardboard out to the trash chute in the kitchen. 

Loki looks around realizing there are more things for Elska than there are for him in his room now. “We might have overdone it, little one. You’re a spoiled girl.” he gives her a quick pat on top of her head and starts assembling her new cat tree. It’s more of a cat condo by the size of it and he very carefully rearranges his room so that it fits next to his desk. By dinner time he’s finished his unpacking and rearranging. He’s settled in for the evening, eating his meal with Elska who’s enjoying her grain free organic pate in a pink floral china dish opposite him at the table. He would never admit to it but he adores his new little darling. She’s inquisitive and feisty, having played fiercely with all of her new toys, and he loves when she sits on his chest and pads her little paws on him to make herself comfortable. Loki is slightly irked by the way she laps at his t-shirt leaving wet marks on it but he doesn’t have the heart to scold her.

Elska gives Loki something that he’s been sorely lacking in the past few months: a purpose. He wakes to Elska curled up with him basking in his warmth, gets up and shares breakfast with her, spends time throughout the day playing with her and teaching her simple tricks, he eats dinner with her, and then they curl up together at night while he reads before bed. The companionship makes his days significantly less painful and he’s actually smiling when Thor finds him in the kitchen a week later.

“Long time no see, brother.” Thor claps a hand on Loki’s back making the younger god jump, startled.

“Yes well, I’ve been busy taking care of that feline you gave me.” Loki grumbles at him, unwilling to show his cards just yet.

“Is she working out? Loki, if you do not wish to keep her please let me know. I’ll take her back at once. You both should not suffer each other’s company needlessly.” 

Loki stifles a laugh at his brother’s distress and decides to have a little fun. “She’s a beast, Thor. An absolute terror. All those Amazon boxes were replacing things of mine she destroyed with those razor sharp claws. She took out my drapes again just yesterday.” 

Thor pales, “I’m truly sorry, brother. I did not mean to bring you trouble.”

“Thinking was never your strong suit, brother. Now, if you’re truly willing to take back your ill-advised gift come collect it now and let me be rid of the cursed thing.” Loki is rolling in mirth internally but keeps a stoic face as to not clue Thor in on his fun. 

Thor nods solemnly and follows Loki back to his room. The first thing Thor notices is that Loki’s drapes are still intact. The second is the large carpeted piece of furniture in the corner by Loki’s desk that he assumes is a cat home of sorts. Thor scans the room more thoroughly and notices various cat toys, a small leopard print bed, a motorized water dispenser, and several other new additions to his brother’s room. Thor glances over a Loki who has his arms wrapped around his slim waist literally holding back his laughter. Finally Loki’s laughter bursts and he doubles over, eyes watering as he cackles. 

“I was tearing myself up worrying about that cat!” Thor booms.

Loki gasps, fighting for words between laughs. “I’m sorry! Your face though, Thor. You can be so dense sometimes!” Elska hops up on the bed and licks Loki’s arm waiting to be picked up. His laughter eases and he scoops her up, “Come here, Elska. Show Uncle Thor that you’re well cared for.” 

“Elska?” Thor asks, still shocked from the sight of Loki’s room.

“Yes, I thought it fitting. She’s such a good little love.” Loki coos the last part at her while rubbing a long finger under her chin. The kitten purrs happily and leans in against Loki’s chest.

“You had me worried.” Thor complains and gives Loki a shove.

Loki glares at him, holding Elska tighter, “Don’t jostle my girl, Thor.” 

Thor huffs but doesn’t argue. “I’m glad you two are getting along. I’ll be going then.” 

Loki looks down at the little bundle of grey fluff in his arms and decides maybe companionship isn’t overrated after all. “Or you could stay awhile?” 

Thor turns from the door, stunned by Loki’s suggestion.

“You don’t have to if you have plans. But maybe you could stay and see some of the tricks I’ve been teaching Elska. She’s such a bright little girl.” 

Thor’s throat is thick with emotion. He’s yearned for his brother’s company for so long he had started to wonder if they would ever find their way back to each other. They had been brothers and best friends for 1,500 years but the last few years they’d grown apart and it had been devastating to him. “I’d like that very much.” Thor finally says. 

“As would I, brother.” Loki smiles at Thor and waves him over to take a seat. He grabs a feathered bird on a string so he can show off Elska’s great hunting prowess. She’s lively, chasing the bird around the room and pouncing on it happily. 

“Here, let me give it a try.” Thor motions to the string and Loki hands it over to him without complaint. 

Thor moves the toy around for her a few times and decides to give it a higher swing to make the chase more exciting. Unfortunately Thor does not consider his hair falling over his shoulders and the string tangles in his blonde mane, the toy lodging itself in it. Elska was already on the move and she leaps up, tiny claws out, and latches on to Thor’s shoulder and neck. She scrapes his jaw as she tries to catch her toy and Thor cries out as she rakes shallow cuts on his skin. Loki is watching, horrified and amused, as Thor struggles to pull her off of him. 

“You’re a demon!” Thor scolds her mildly, holding her out directly in front of his face. Loki is about to intervene when Elska leans forward and takes a long raspy lick right down the center of Thor’s face. Thor is silent for a moment, shocked, and then begins laughing heartily. He hands Elska back to Loki who is barely containing his amusement. “This is definitely your cat, brother.” Thor tells him, “You’re two of a kind.” 

Loki joins in his laughter and has to agree, they truly are two of a kind.

The End 

Thank you so much for reading! Fun fact: elska in Old Norse means affection/love. So if anyone was wondering about the name, there ya go!

[filthy-reckless-rp]

Congratulations Katherine! Your beautiful character Mia Salazar has been accepted. I honestly cannot wait to see this princess-turned-pauper in action (how much is a banana? Like $15?). I love how her soft and sensitive kindness contrasts with the fact she keeps everyone at a distance although I’m sure many will try to #breakdownthosewalls. With hugs. And puppies. Also, whenever we see ‘private’ Gossip Girl stirs maniacally in the background. Your para sample also had us on the edge of our seats!! Someone give this gal her own Grey’s Anatomy spin-off, I’m just sayin’. *How To Save A Life plays in the background* Okay...enough from me.

Please send your account in ASAP! Remember to open your ask and submit. We also have a Whatsapp group for members; if you would like to be added just let us know!

---Admin P

OOC:

Name: Katherine

Age: 21

Gender / Preferred pronouns: She/Her

Where are you from? / Timezone: UTC+08:00

How active are you? (please describe in words): I have one (1) maybe two free days a week and I will for sure dedicate at least a couple hours of those two days in flooding the dash

How did you found out about us?: A little bird (Maya. It was Maya) told me about this safe haven.

Mia Salazar • 22 years old • Advanced Emergency Medical Technician • FC: Shay Mitchell • OC • TAKEN

Biography:

“I am the one thing in life I can control, I am inimitable, I am an original.”

Filipinos are required two talents: singing and dancing. And those who do not have those talents become doctors. This was the course that Mia Salazar’s life was set on. And considering that her parents owned just about half of all the pharmacies in the Philippines, it was one that was not only expected but demanded. Which is why she did exactly that – she focused in high school, got the grades, and when the opportunity came she even volunteered as a junior EMT for medical experience during summer of junior year. Which is where our story, and Mia’s life, derails. See, she didn’t expect to love the field. But she did. She didn’t expect to get entangled in the thrill of being a first responder, of being the one person that had to essentially bring a person back from the brink before they even set foot in the hospital. But she did.

You can imagine her parents’ chagrin when she, their only child, announced that she wanted to attend Cuny Borough of Manhattan after graduation to pursue a career in being a paramedic. ‘A community college?!’ you could practically hear her mother screech from atop their Upper East Side penthouse. Needless to say, they were not happy. In fact, they flat out refused to pay the tuition (regardless of the fact it cost less than the things you could find in their bathroom cupboard) and told her that they would not offer any support until she got her act straight and decided to be ‘a real physician’. This did not deter Mia. In fact, it was practically the taste of freedom that she’d been yearning for handed to her on a silver platter.

Fast forward four years after high school graduation, and you’ll find that Mia’s come a long way from being another one of Constance Billard’s privileged princesses. With the first half having been spent accumulating training hours and barely-above-minimum wage funds at the back of an ambulance, she’s now in her second year of an Associate’s Applied Science degree. The experience, as well as the recent years of Broke Life independence, has put a bit of a stern edge on her otherwise ‘nice girl’ reputation. The fact that it was her own determination and grit that got her to this point – not her parents’ money or influence – has given her a confidence that she never thought she could have. What does it even matter that to this day she honestly doesn’t know how much a banana is supposed to cost? It’s as exciting as it is terrifying, but Mia’s instilled a sort of attitude in herself that says she’s not done discovering her potential quite yet. Does she have what it takes to keep going with her ambitions and dreams? Or will she end up crashing and burning, just like every cliche former trust fund baby that finds both their funds and rebellious streaks running dry?

You know you love me,

xoxo –Gossip Girl

Wanted Connections:

(I’m gonna put some wanted connections that you guys can jump on if you want :) (pls))

- a high school friend(s) that lost contact and they’re v v bitter about it??

- best friend(s) that unconditionally supported her and she them??

- college friend(s) trying to show her the ropes of life as A Normal Person Who Has To Work To Live

- previous patient

- roommate(s) that live in a cozy but also cramped apartment

Character’s Bday: 22 November

3 Virtues and 3 flaws, explaining each:

Virtues:

Heroic: The first time Mia saw a burning car, she had no idea that her first instinct would be to run towards it. But it was and it turns out it wasn’t just a one time thing. There’s never any conscious decision to put herself into a situation to help others – she just does it. It’s not just physical dangers either; whether it be a fire, someone being rude to a customer service worker, or a classmate forgetting a #2 pencil on exam day. If she can help, even in the tiniest way, she doesn’t hesitate.

Adaptive: Mia lives for life’s curveballs. Not only is she good at thinking on her feet, but she enjoys it as well. New settings don’t intimidate her, nor does meeting new people or trying new things. She’s a firm believer in trial and error and knows full well that complaining or feeling sorry for yourself never helped anyone accomplish anything.

Soft: Outside of the ambulance, the rigid persona (dubbed her ‘saving lives’ personality) is quickly shed to reveal the sensitive creature that Mia Salazar truly is. She listens to RainyMood around the apartment. She sold practically ¾ths of her wardrobe to pay for rent and textbooks, leaving her with only a closet-full of comfy sweaters and durable jeans. And cuddles? Forget about it – there is nobody else in the entire universe that loves comforting human (or fur baby) contact than Mia does. It’s therapeutic, really; if giving free smiles and warm hugs makes even one person she likes smile, then she will be the person to offer them.

Flaws:

Private: Being nice isn’t the same thing as being open, and Mia exemplifies that clearly. Because of the nature of her work, she’s left with basically no social life. But then again that’s also something she almost prefers. Small talk is an unusual skill that she’s actually mastered (because sometimes keeping a person talking is the only way to distract them from the fact that they’re bleeding out in the middle of Lexington Ave.), but when it comes to revealing anything personal she’s quick to deflect. It just seems like a waste of time and energy opening up to someone, if all it takes is a busy work schedule and a few disappointments to make them move on.  

Impulsive: In hindsight, it probably would have been wiser for her to actually have a plan before abruptly taking her parents’ ultimatum, packing everything she could into a large Mulberry suitcase, and running off into the night. But she didn’t, and this trait is one that she unfortunately did not manage to grow out of. Because of her upbringing, consequences were never actually something she’s ever had to think more than two seconds about. And because of the literal life-and-death nature of her job, trusting her instincts is something that she’s been accustomed to do. So if Mia thinks it’s going to turn out okay (whether it be sprinting into a burning car or splurging on a new dress) she’ll do the thing now and regret the repercussions later.  

Work-a-holic: Having become one of the people that actually had to work for a living just put gasoline into the inferno that was already Mia’s determination. But more than that, she genuinely loves her job. It’s the first real thing that she’s accomplished, that she’s pushed herself to be good at, and it’s good work (no matter what her parents think). So she drops everything for it. Anniversaries, dinner plans, a baby (once, when a friend asked her to hold it but then her phone beeped with a call from the hospital and she rushed to get away). Nothing is more important to her.

Para Sample (A couple of paragraphs, in third person, as the character you’re applying for):

“BPM dropping to 50.”

Mia had to stop herself from snapping back, because, yeah, she already knew that. Her eyes had been glued to the damn monitor as soon as they’d hooked it up to the patient. 20BPM and it’ll be too late, 20BPM and it’ll be too late – she chanted the words to herself again and again as she quickly and expertly maneuvered around the gurney to grab all the supplies she needed. E 80th St. sped past the windows and the first rule she ever learned in the ambulance came racing back to her.

No matter what, never yell for the driver to go faster. It never helped anyone, and those 0.5 seconds could’ve been spent doing something useful.

“Move,” she said, not unkindly but firmly, to the EMR next to her. She recognized the look on his face – the way he hovered too close to the patient, how his eyes seemed to be processing both too many things and nothing at all. Mia could sympathize, but didn’t. She already knew that he wasn’t going to be of any help and right now was not the time to deal with that. “I need you to get the atropine for me. Hey. Can you do that?”

It took a moment, but his gaze eventually ripped away from the patient and their quickly collapsing lungs to focus on her. Slowly, he nodded and finally got out of her way.

It didn’t look good, but then again nothing ever did in here. Mia’s jaw tightened as she watched the way the young man struggled to breathe, how only one part of his chest rose and the other was covered by a blotchy shade of deep blue. “Broken ribs,” she muttered to herself, reaching for a mask. Eyes flicking down, she noticed the nametag taped over his breast pocket. “Hey, Andre. It’s okay, it’s going to be okay. I need to put this on you, alright? We’ll get you breathing better, just stay with me.”

Andre’s eyes, half open but clearly dazed, barely seemed to register her presence. “O2, now.” she demanded, placing the mask over his mouth and nose.

They hit a speedbump, the one she knew was on right on 3rd Avenue, and Mia blew out a breath. “We’re almost there, sweetie. Hang on.”

But then a beep sounded, rapidly followed by more, and her heart sank as the monitor showed 30BPM. On the gurney, Andre’s body gave an abrupt hitch. “Atropine!” Mia yelled, scooting aside as the EMR sunk a needle into the IV lined into Andre’s arm.

“He’s not getting any oxygen,” he said, hands now shaking as they both watched helplessly as the convulsions got worse. He lunged forward, getting into position for CPR, but she intercepted him.

“His ribs are broken, you could puncture a lung,” she snapped.

“Then how is he going to breathe?!”

And this, this was the hardest part of the job. There was always somebody asking that question, and in all her five years of experience she never knew how to answer it. She didn’t know how to tell them that the hardest part wasn’t after her shift, when all she could think about was everything she could’ve done. It wasn’t even having to tell their family waiting at the hospital that they didn’t make it.

The hardest part had always been right before she lost a patient. In those minutes and seconds where she had to watch as all her options vanished in thin air. When they were still alive, but she knew that she couldn’t save them.

They got to Lenox Hill ten minutes later. Which was more than enough time for her to compose herself and give the awaiting medical staff a full report.

Because the second hardest part of the job was the one nobody ever wanted  to talk about. The part where, right after you lose a patient, you’re not allowed to lose yourself. You have to shake it off, brush it away, because it was only halfway into the day and they just got another call about a fire up in East 95th. And Mia, with her five years of experience, was only now getting good at that.