#also. the hair. the hair. it goes in 75 different directions and i never never understand it

[petricorah]

redrawing him for @constantones

[fentrashcat]

The Craft Store Ladies

This will be a recount of some kind (and understanding) ladies that helped me while I was ticcing like a dumbass bc I was excited about thread.

So earlier this summer, I saw a post on an embroidery group that a certain store was having a clearance on a specific type of thread. It's not what I was used to, in fact I had never used it before, but it was a GREAT deal. Like 75% off. I go through thread almost as quick as I go through fabric so this was amazing.

I don't drive, and I hate to as people to make special trips, so I was content to go after work a few days later, even it it risked not having much left. Instead, someone I mentioned it to drove me up there that day, so two majorly exciting things.

When I get excited, I get "duck-duck" tics. On top of that, I knew I'd be ticcing, so I grabbed a fidget. Since I could already tell how much ticcing there would be, I grabbed my OG rubber duck, the first ever thing to help with my tics. I had also been doing yard work and had just taken a bunch of things to the dump with the person driving me, so I'm sweaty, hair up, and likely have yard debris on me. I also still have a minor limp from back/hip pain at this point. All of this is just to help paint the picture.

So we get there, person driving doesn't want to come in. I walk in alone, limping, mumbling "duck-duck" under my breath, and holding a dingy looking rubber duck. First I can't find the embroidery section, so I approach some employees. They're not so good at hiding their "wtf" looks, but they direct me two aisles over, which makes me feel stupid and kinda belittled, but I'm here for thread so I brush it off.

There's already a lot of empty space so I get excited that I didn't come later, especially when I see there's still a few spools of black left bc i was out. The display is practically on the floor though, and I can't bend. So I end up W sitting on the floor, and trying to get this stuck spool out. (TERRIBLE display design) I give up for a bit and start getting other colors. This is when the first nice lady comes.

Imagine if you will, turning the corner in an abandoned part of a craft store, and seeing this person who looks like garbage, sitting on the floor like a toddler, next to a basket with SO MANY spools of thread (like 30 at that point), on the floor next to them is like 3 giant jar candles, a rubber duck, and what looks like all of this person's personal belongings, while they're trying to used the arm of a pair of glasses to get something from a display, occasionally making a weird noise or saying "duck-duck". Probably not the WEIRDEST thing seen in a craft store, but odd none the less.

Bc of the earlier situation and my general existence, I get anxious, and immediately try to make a joke. Probably something along the lines of trying to help the display see bc I'm bad at jokes off the top of my head, but she laughs. I'm still feeling awkward so I quickly say something about a stuck spool I want, and go back to getting other colors.

This sweet lady goes to a different aisle, grabs something, brings it back to me, and says "try this". It didn't work, and she went and got a second thing for me to try. I didn't think it would work, but it showed me something that would. I didn't want to take anymore of her time so I said it would probably work and thanked her, then swapped things and got the spool out. Just the fact that she went out of her way to help me though just 🥰. I also ran into her maybe 10minutes later when I finished getting all the thread I could on my budget, and told her I got it she says "oh good, I was about to point these out to you if you hadn't".

So the second lady was the cashier. I get up to the front, and there's a sign directing cash one way (to a cashier) and card another (self check out). The person driving gave me cash to buy them something, and I couldn't afford to just charge it and keep cash at the time, so I figured I'd handle his then slide down to self check out and handle mine.

Of course, as I'm trying to pay, I start trying to fling things. I almost throw coins over my shoulder, which is extremely embarrassing for me, bc I can't play that off like I can some of my other tics. I'm worried bc the previous employees, and a bit worried about checking out all this thread if I'm trying to throw shit. I just make another shitty joke and let her know I have Tourettes and am just excited about the thread.

Not only did she assure me it was okay, she insisted on checking me out, even though I was paying with card. Then I'm not sure if she's experienced someone who has Tourettes, picked up on my fidgeting, or just wanted to get through the thread faster (I think I got about 120 spools), but she said if I needed to do something with my hands I could unload the basket and put barcodes up. She also distracted me from my anxiety by asking about my projects, congratulating me on finding such a good sale, and laughing when I made dumb jokes about my tics as they happened. The best part was she didn't seem condescending the way some people get when I'm ticcing or getting excited over little things. Through the whole interaction she treated me like she would anyone else, and never once made me uncomfortable. I apologized a few times for the big order, but she assured me it was okay, and when I mentioned I had planned on moving to self check out, she said something about maybe needing to help the computer anyways. She wished me luck on my projects and said they sounded neat as I left, which the first part is standard, but she seemed genuinely interested in my projects too.

I guess this was a lot of words for "people were nice" and "I got treated like a person", but I'm very used to the first reaction I got. That sounds kinda sad, but it made the other ladies stand out, and they made me feel really good. Hopefully this made you smile, or maybe laugh at me being clueless, but I'll probably post more of these in the future. I've got quite a few stories of nice people and good Samaritans, because they stick in my memory.

I hope you have a good day, and remember, treat people with kindness, it could genuinely make their day.

[graylinesspam]

Headcannon's I have about Anakin based on habits he gained from growing up on Tatooine.

He has water insecurity issues.

He is very aware of how much water he's drinking in a day. He has it rationed down to the ounce. 110 standard ounces a day. No more, no less.

He's always anxious about running out of water. There's like no food in his kitchen but 6 gallons of water.

He's also always asking about the men having filled their canteens before they load up. His checklist is ammo, bandages, water.

He has all sonic appliances (don't use water) in his apartment, no water except in the shower.

Speaking of showering he takes sonic showers pretty much for as long as he can stand them, until his hair is greasy enough to be uncomfortable, then he fills a bowl with water and scrubs with a washrag and washes his hair.

Due to her sensitive lekku and montrals, Ahsoka can't use sonic showers. She has to wash with water. Anakin tries to pretend that he isn't agonizing over the waste of a whole tub of water whenever she bathes.

He keeps his apartment/general quarters at a sweltering 85 degrees. He turns it down to 75 to sleep. Both him and Ahsoka love the heat but Obi-wan complains and strips down to his sparing clothes whenever he visits.

He also does not sleep with bedding ever. Just the fitted sheet and his sleep pants thanks.

He keeps all his dishes upside down. On Tatooine that keeps the sand out. Also his boots he keeps upside down when he isn't wearing them.

He hates how cold space is, it makes his joints hurt. Also frozen planets. Snow and ice are the bane of existence.

He takes solar burns/ solar-blind very seriously. Solar shades are mandatory for all of the resolute's crew if they're on a deck with a viewport.

He can guess a shop's inventory and going rates based on a cursory glance.

He knows exactly how valuable ship parts are, taking into account make, model, year, demand, and shipping costs. He will argue with a shop owner until he's blue in the face.

He never pays for repairs. EVER.

He hates people who talk down to their droids. It's like kicking a dog.

He is big on bodily consent. Like he won't even shake someone's hand without asking or saying that he wants to first. (Except padamé. He's all up in her space)

Honestly, he isn't big on body language. He likes direct verbal communication. This also means he can't take a hint for shit much to Ahsoka's annoyance and Obi-wan's embarrassment.

Sometimes Ahsoka goes out of her way to inform him of social context like "she meant that as a compliment/insult/question master".

Or in some more uncomfortable situations, "they were implying____” usually pertaining to him getting hit on or someone asking if they were "together". IE " yes we'll take one room but TWO beds, please"

Anakin doesn't see the use of having unnecessary space. Like he was raised in small living quarters at home and in the temple. And ahsoka/Obi-wan prefer to stay close anyways.

He hates that all of the scummy things that are common in the underground but unacceptable in general society are also common for the upper class. Like keeping slaves, casual murder, violent entertainment, and general crime. He won't shut up about it.

There are little similarities between Tatooine slave culture and Togruti slave culture, because they're sister cultures. IE, words, phrases, codes, signals, etc.

This means despite having completely different first languages he and Ahsoka just have some phrases in common, seemingly randomly.

[its-snicket-here]

Being sister of Ainz?? *Whisper from the dark corner*

*Whispers from the deep abyss of personal drafts* Hell fucking yeah

----------------------

Due to you being much more younger and more prone to gaming. I can see your character to have more of a monstrous form than a humanly look.

Ainz can now rest on having to spend money on your account, due to you doing multiple side jobs. Though, that doesn't let you escape of sharing your half of rent.

Your character is a demon; clad in a tattered yellow cloak with the hood always up, blocking any prying eyes from seeing your face. What it only peaks out is grey hair. Though the sleeve aren't long enough to cover your bandaged and shackled arms. In an ombre fashion, the arms are shown to go from black to blood red at the finger tips.

Though when unhooded, it's shown that your face is also pitch black. Your mouth is replaced with something more inhumane, having no teeth nor anything. Though it's capable of breaking and tearing through anything with such animalistic powers. Strange red substances dribble out, though nobody dares to try even touching it.

Your eyes is blindfolded, though when unraveled, it shows only a void where the sockets are. All oozing the same red substance that dribbles from the mouth. You have a long black tongue that oozes a stank smell when activated for fighting.

Your chest had an open hole, where your ribcage pops out in the flesh and where your spine could be shown. Where the heart is supposed to be lies a giant plasma ball. Though like Ainz's, it's indestructible.

Like the mom, you and Ainz have special perks when you have family members joining in the game. Unlike mother's rage, the two of you have now gained "Sibling's Rivalry."

When the two of you were transported into the new world, instead of spawning inside the Tomb with Ainz. You were spawned inside a cave, deep inside the forest where Hamsuke was at.

It took you a little while to get out of there, but you did it.

But it did took you long time getting your sense of perception because your sight has been replaced black and white outlines. You were tripping over multiple shit in the cave and the forest: trees, rocks, a lizard, a corpse, you name it. You were tripping everywhere.

Though despite your struggle of having a different sense of perception. You were able to detect life sources somewhere, but couldn't exactly pinpoint the direction it was coming from.

So, it caught you off guard when you "see" a giant hamster right in front of you doing a piss ass job of threatening you.

Thus the hilarity ensued when you activated your intimidation skill on Hamsuke.

So, you have now a hamster ride and a new roommate to sleep with. Though, you do enjoy the furry rat hamster's company. At least she'll be your guide around the forest.

Thus the two of you were dubbed the "The Wise King of the Forest" and "The Demonic Puppet," much to your annoyance. You're not a damn puppet that's for sure.

When Ainz heard about you and Hamsuke in the forest, he was highly interested in you. Rumors had it you were the supposed puppet/rider of "The Wise King of the Forest." So of course he wanted to either recruit you or to at least collect you like he was planning to do for Gazef

It was surprise when he finally noticed that it was his sister that was labeled as "The Demonic Puppet," but is relieved that he isn't lonely now

Breathes

That doesn't escape the fact you're now a gremlin

Might as well make you the prankster demon, because you do a shit ton of light hearted tricks

The classic plastic wrap on the doorways, replacing bombs with glitter dust, making swords break at the first contact before reconnecting all together again, toothpaste filling in Oreos/pastries, you get the drill.

Demiurge wants to experiment and study your red ooze that drips out and see its effect. You have now gained Demiurge's interest on studying you, especially your reasons to be shackled.

I would say that you're aren't specifically in the guide but is considered to be because of your connection and how frequently you've visit the guide.

Though, you can't gain a human look no matter how hard you can transform

As if you can actually transform lmaooooo

So, you are forced to wear a mask and lots of long sleeved shirts, bandages, long pants, your coat, and/or dresses when you go outside with Ainz and Nabe in E-Rantel. Though you can't seem to take off your shackles off you.

I can see you and Evileye being acquaintances in heroes term. Other than that, she sees you as a gateway on trying to hook up with Ainz/Momonga and an interesting person. A strong mage always hiding behind a mask like her.

Though unlike cosmic demon eldritch mama, you don't gain a following. The last thing you want is idiots trying to summon you, despite saying a very hard no on accepting their praises and begging.

There is times where you go onto a blood frenzy uncontrollably out of the blue that Ainz had to put Demiurge and Cocytus in charge in containing your blood frenzy. If it goes out of control, then Ainz would reluctantly WILL and HAVE to put you out for himself.

So when the war happened between the two kingdoms, when Ainz was making everyone thinking he was an actual fucking monster. They all should be fearing you. You. Go. Nuts. With. Full. Intent. of. Excitement. For. Blood. And. Fear.

Before the whole war even happened, you and Demiurge were setting up the battlefield with traps, hidden demons/beasts, hiding poison containers somewhere in the water supply that will open at a specific time, portals from hell, etc. You are on full intent of destroying the kingdom with all of your might.

Just hope they don't get inside [Death's Parade] ok? :)

-------

[Sibling's Rivalry] - Due to you having a connection with another player via email/phone number confirmation, you and your connector have now gained a new skill set [Sibling's Rivalry]. When in a 40 meter radius with your sibling, you have now gained an increase of 125% ATK speed, 45% AGILITY, and a 200+ MP boost.

[Blood Lust] - Every physical kill increases your ATK power by +15%. Maximum is +150% for 15 minuets. Though when passive, when not killing, the player will have a meter that will slowly goes up until 100%. If any kills hasn't occur,

[Death's Parade] - One time use, afterwards you must rest until [Death's Parade] can be used again. Upon use, within 75 meter radius of the caster shall turn into an arena. Those who inside the radius can not escape nor those outside the radius can join in. Multiple demonic summons and undead summons shall appear and will fight to the death to the players that are trapped inside. The arena will stay on until either the caster's MP reaches to 1 or the players inside the arena is dead. 145% ATK speed, 65% spell power, 145% casting speed.

[F. E. A. R] - Fear Energy Acid Radiation. Those who are not immune to the fear energy radiation or has consumed fear acid would now experience a multitude of nightmares and hallucinations until they have escaped the radiation or after 2 hours if digested. It is possible to die from [F. E. A. R].

[Tier 1/2/3 intimidation] - Tier 1 effects low leveled beings through 1 - 25. Tier 2 effects mid level beings through 25 - 75. Tier 3 effects higher level beings through 75 - 100. When under the intimidation, they will be frozen in fear for 10 minuets. Though if using a higher level fear on a lower level being it can have a lasting effect until turned off.

[Blood Cult Garbs] - 'Worship is meaningless when given prayers and offerings. What THEY need is blood to be spilled, screams to be heard, flesh being wounded!' 195% spell power, 145% casting speed

[Sacrificial blade] - 'This is a gift from the Gods...' A blade that has already taken the lives of many unbelievers and its willingly followers. Though it has been unwashed over the years of use. 175% life leech, status: bleeding, status: hemorrhage, status: infected

[Status: Holy Imprisoned] - Due the angelic shackles containing your sins, you have been now suppressed of demonic urges and have now gained morality and emotions. Though the older the shackles are, the harder it will stop the demonic urges and sins seizing through. Every time a demonic ability/spell has been mustered, the host will go through intense pain that will take 25% of their health, but will never go down to 0. -250% holy damage resistance, demonic damage nullified, status: imprisoned, -110% casting speed [Holy Imprisoned is inflicted by Angelic species that is the same level or higher than the host. Can be effected again.]

[Orb of Trickery] - Due to you now infused with the orb, you are now able to cast illusion spells, psychic spells, and hypnotic spells much faster with 3x of the effect.

[ithinkilikeit-reactions]

Accidents and artwork (Jongho/Smut)

Ateez Masterlist                                      Group Masterlist

A/N: So basically, I wrote this from an artists perspective. I wrote it with my experiences and processes I have seen so bare with me. 

Also the smut in this story is definitely not the main focus at all, it’s a whole story

Tags: Fem reader x Jongho, Highschool au!, Wrestler x art student, Teenagers being awkward, cute letter confessions, scatterbrained artist, stress relieving, pretty soft sex, pretty vanilla, just wholesome teen romance? virgin reader x Jongho, fingering, praise

Word count: 9520 words (longest thing I’ve ever written) 

Week 1

How Jongho ended up in the art room surrounded by paint covered canvases and confused students, he didn’t really know. He didn’t understand how such a big mistake could be made, wrestling and art class were very different things. However here he was at art class and not wrestling like he should have been. 

“Take a seat, Mr. Choi. You’re late.” The teacher said, snapping him out of his thoughts as he scanned the room. “Ah, I’m sorry. There was a mix up and I was in the office. I will only be here temporarily until a spot on the wrestling team opens up.” Jongho explained, the other students in the room scanning him up and down. 

Everyone had heard about the athlete prodigy that was transferring to your school, how a mix-up like this could happen was really baffling. But it happened and you were now sitting in the corner, watching him look at the empty seat next to you. 

“Temporary or not, you’re going to need a seat.” Your teacher said sharply. Mrs. Kim always was sharp of the tongue. You watched him bow politely and make his way to the stool next to yours. 

Jongho had only been at school a few days but had already gained immense popularity, being the new kid and the star athlete really helped. This popularity was intimidating to you, not ever really being one for wanting the spotlight per say. It took a certain type of person to enjoy the popularity, not that that was bad, no it was just different. You had respect for all types of people around your highschool, everyone was just trying to make their four years work... some more successfully than others. 

“Now as I was explaining, this duo project will be worth 75% of your semester grade. There is no theme, I just want to see harmony between two artists in the piece.” Mrs. Kim explained. That was something you admired about her teaching method. There was never a box to be put in, she allowed artists to be artists and it was refreshing. 

One by one you and Jongho watched your classmates find partners, silently. “Ma’am, I won’t be in this class long. I wouldn’t want to not be able to finish a project and leave a student hanging.” Jongho explained, voice incredibly sincere. He would hate to think that someone would fail because of him. “That will just have to be something you figure out with your partner. Is Y/N your partner?” Your name coming out of her mouth caught you off guard and you looked up. 

Jongho looked at you and looked at him, before looking back to your teacher and back to eachother again. An awkward silence was definitely lingering in the air as he tried to find the words once he noticed you didn’t have a partner. “Only if she wants to be... I would hate to be a burden.” His voice was soft as he looked at you, anxiously awaiting your response. 

“It seem Ms. Y/N doesn’t have a partner so she doesn’t quite have a choice. You two will work together, it’s settled.” There goes that sharp tongue again, you cursed mentally. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to work with Jongho, not at all. He seemed like a sweet guy but you already felt like you were at a disadvantage before hand. Your art seemed to be lacking as of late and you were questioning what direction you were going in, it was an internal struggle that left a negative mark on your art. Now you had the possibility of having to help someone alot and not to be rude, it was a disadvantage. 

“Everyone start planning your projects, quietly though. No need to give me a headache before noon.” Jongho pulled his stool closer to you and smiled slightly. He knew you probably didn’t want him as a partner and he could understand why, Jongho knew he had 0 drawing/painting experience. 

“I’m sorry.” Jongho said, making you look up at him. There was an apologetic look on his face and you could tell he felt bad. But he had no reason too, this wasn’t his fault. You could work through it, like you mentioned before: everyone was just trying to make their four years work. 

“It’s really okay. Let’s just work together and make something cool. We’ll manage.” You comforted him in the best way you could, because you were nervous yourself. If he was already apologizing before even really doing anything, how was this project going to turn out?

“Uhm, do you have any art experience or anything similar?” You asked, hoping that he might have a grain of visual artistic talent. “I’m sorry, no. I know that isn’t what you want to hear.” He looked down, cursing the fact  that he never felt the urge to draw when he was a kid. “It’ll be okay, I’ll figure something out.” You replied, more reassuring yourself than him. “Thanks.” He said softly, feeling comforted by your words. “I was reassuring myself.” You justified with a laugh and he chuckled with you. “Fair enough.” 

Jongho walked through the cafeteria with his bag, finding his friends pretty easily. They were a rowdy bunch after all. 

“There he is. How was art class?” San asked and clapped the younger boy on the back as he sat down. “I still can’t believe that they messed up your schedule like that.” Seonghwa said and Jongho shrugged. “It could be worse. At least I have a cute partner.” Jongho said without thinking about it.

Yeah, he thought you were cute. He also thought there was a worse way to have to spend art class. 

“Cute partner? I don’t think I know anyone in the art class.” Wooyoung commented, popping a grape into his mouth. “Her name’s Y/N and she’s kind of stuck with me as a partner for something that takes up a huge chunk of her grade. I feel bad.” Jongho said and perked up once he noticed you had entered the cafeteria. You had a quiet nature, avoiding bumping into people as you walked to an empty seat. You looked clumsy and cute, it made Jongho smile. “I’m assuming that’s her.” Hongjoong said, taking note of the way Jongho had gone quiet. 

You had been racking your brain ever since class had ended. No offense to Jongho but you were stuck with him and it was making you anxious. You wanted to deliver something you could be proud of and you really had to think hard about it. 

Jongho was a physical person, he liked physical activity and you could work with that. Slowly an idea started forming. 

“Jongho!” You called as you saw him in the hall by his locker. You walked over to him, seeing his group of friends all close to him. “Hey, what’s up?” Jongho asked, swallowing before speaking. “I had an idea for the project, something that I think would work for the both of us.” You explained, eyes locking with his for a moment only for you to look away again. “Well, you’re the boss. When do you need me?” Jongho asked, his words flustering you slightly. 

“Uhm we can get started this weekend if you’re free, at my place? I have a canvas that’s ready to go and paint.” You said with a soft smile, hoping the blush on your cheeks would die down a bit. Jongho was undeniably attractive and you weren’t used the attention. 

“That works, I can come by on Saturday if you text me your adress.” Jongho said, trying really hard to ignore Wooyoung and San’s whispering next to him. You heard the whispers too, feeling uncomfortable as you felt they were about you and you looked to the floor. Jongho subtly jammed his elbow into Wooyoung’s stomach while pretending to adjust his shirt and they shut up. 

“Perfect...” You started to walk away, awkwardness taking over before realising you forgot to say something. “Wait, I forgot to mention. Bring some clothes you don’t mind getting paint on, it could get messy.” You said, catching Jongho off guard before walking away again. How could you be so awkward out of nowhere? 

You had managed to set the whole thing up... or at least step 1 of your project. It was easy, it was fun and it was creative. This project was going to help you let go a little and through out your week you were starting to see the positive side to this whole thing. You followed rules when it came to art and art didn’t have rules, you wanted to have fun with this. 

“Did you find it okay?” You asked, leading him into your house. Jongho couldn’t help but be taken back by your appearance at first. Your shorts and huge what used to be white t-shirt, now covered in a rainbow of paint splatters. Your hair was messy not having bothered doing anything to it because it would get messed up anyways, but Jongho thought it was cute. 

“I know I look like a crazy person but this is what I wear to paint so disregard that.” You added on, your sock covered feet padding over the wooden floor of your house. “It’s fine, it somehow suits you. You look comfortable.” Jongho commented, following you through the house. 

“Uhm, what are we doing for the project. You never really told me.” Jongho said stopping in your living room and you turned around and looked at him. “Oh my God, you’re right.” You said covering your mouth and starting to laugh at your own stupidity. Jongho must’ve thought you were in an idiot. 

“You must think I’m crazy. I get really scatterbrained when I start a project, I’m so sorry.” You explained and Jongho just watched you, grinning softly. He could tell your mind was going a mind a minute and he couldn’t help but wonder if this was what it was like to be an artist. Sticking his hands in the pockets of his old jeans and just took you in. He didn’t think he was going to enjoy this experience that much at first, but that was slowly changing. 

“So basically, I thought you don’t have painting or drawing experience so what can we do. Then I had another thought, you like being physically active and you’re probably good at throwing things too.” Jongho was starting to get concerned at your words, the concern being very visible on his face. “Throwing things?” He thought to himself.

“Don’t worry, it’s a good idea. I think... I was just thinking we should have a good time either launching waterballoons filled with paint at a canvas or we could tape the paint filled balloons to a canvas and throw darts at them. That’s up to you though.” Jongho’s concern quickly went away as he heard the rest of your idea. It sounded so fun and it was definitely something he could do. “I do believe you are a genius ma’am.” Jongho said and bowed jokingly. 

“Really?” You asked, your voice sounding so hopefull. You let out a breath of relief as your concerns were wiped away. Something about Jongho was so incredibly refreshing and different from what you had expected. It was nice. 

“I think launching the balloons at the canvas is the safest bet. Darts seem, dangerous.” He said as you walked into your yard together. You hummed in agreement, knowing he was probably right and knowing your aim. The last thing you wanted was Jongho going to the emergency room because you can’t throw. 

“That seems fair, don’t want to accidentally hurt you.” You said and gestured towards the canvas. You had filled the balloons beforehand and placed them in a bucket. Your mother was going to be upset at the fact that her grass would be splattered with paint, but you knew this would be forgotten if you told her it was for school. 

“How did you come up with this?” Jongho asked as he picked up the bucket from next to the canvas and brought it a safe distance away. “ I don’t really know. I guess I was kind of forced to think outside of the box a little. I kinda have to  thank you for that.” You confessed and gestured for him to have the first throw. “What do you mean?” He asked and launched a waterballoon at the canvas. It splattered bright orange against the crisp white and you couldn’t help but smile widely. 

Jongho felt really good watching the color splatter over the canvas. It felt so good to do something like this. 

“I mean, my art was starting to feel stiff. Repetitive. This was something I needed.” You explained and threw your own balloon, missing drastically and launching the blue paint over the grass. You covered your mouth in embarrassment and to hold back your laughter. Jongho tried to hold back a laugh but failed miserably and handed you another balloon. “The canvas is over there.” He joked and you hung your shoulders in feigned shame. “I’m not good at sports.” You confessed, throwing another balloon and barely clipping the canvas. Though hard enough to cause red splatter near the orange. 

How your mannerism’s could be so endearing, he had no clue. You weren’t the type of girl Jongho normally gravitated too, but then again he was never really thrown into a situation like this before. He found himself enjoying this whole situation, immensly. 

“So you’re friends with San and Wooyoung right?” You asked as the canvas gradually filled with more and more colors and splatters. Turning to Jongho, you noticed how the light was capturing him and his beautiful skin tone and for a moment you swore your heart started pounding faster. Tearing your eyes away, you fiddled with the hem of your paint stained shirt. 

“Yeah, I am. Why?” He asked, noting the fact you were avoiding eye contact. “No reason really, they really are mood makers in class.” You complimented. Friendship was something you missed, you always found yourself too scatterbrained and busy to maintain them. Sure you had people you were friendly with at school, but not really someone you could call your friend. 

“Yeah that’s true. Wooyoung can be so loud sometimes though.” Jongho chuckled to himself as he threw a balloon really hard against the canvas, nearly knocking it over. “Who do you hangout with?” Jongho asked and ran to the canvas, adjusting it back to it’s original position. You were hesitant to answer his question, you didn’t want him to pity you. 

“No one really.” You admitted, your voice sounding oddly cheery. He looked at you confused at how you could sound so okay with that. “Really?” “Really.” You responded and sat down in the grass, your arms feeling tired from throwing and wanting a break. Jongho joined you, deciding he deserved a break as well. 

“I’m bad at maintaining friends.” You said with a small laugh at your own self pity. “Ahh.” was the only sound to be heard from him. You both sat quietly for a moment and you leaned back to look at your project. “It looks really good. I think phase 1 is complete.” You nodded in approval and Jongho smiled widely, his nose crinkling in the cutest way. 

“This was a lot more fun than I thought it would be.” Jongho admitted, not remember the last time he felt joy in a project that wasn’t sport related. “We should let this dry... do you want to watch a movie or something?” Your proposal caught Jongho off guard and yourself. You weren’t expecting those words to come out so smoothly, or to come out at all. It was all incredibly impulsive. 

“I actually want to ask you something.” Jongho started and you looked at him with mildly scared eyes. “I was actually wondering if you would show me some of your art and maybe teach my how to do some stuff. I liked this alot more than I thought I would. It would be cool to know how to draw or be even a little helpfull to you in this project.” You were completely surprised, not sure how to respond. This was cool, this was amazing. It put such a big smile on your face you couldn’t help but cover it with your hand. 

“I would absolutely love to teach you! Come on let’s go to my room. I have my art stuff up there.” He was surprised by your enthousiasm but it also warmed his heart. You were just so bubbly when it came to art, it was your happy space. 

“I’m going to take a guess that this one is your room.” Jongho said and stood infront of your door. It was painted on a sweet little mural and made his smile grow even larger. “Lucky guess.” You said and looked away. You got bashfull for a moment, no one had really been up to your before, let alone a guy. 

“This is so cool. It looks so amazing.” He ran his fingers over the painting. It was amazing to him that he could feel the brush strokes. “Thank you.” Your voice was small suddenly and Jongho looked back at you. “Like really amazing.” He never considering that art had texture, that was really cool.

 Letting him in your room, you gestured for him to sit at your desk and grabbed a sketchbook and some pencils. “What do you want to learn?”  You sat down next to him after placing the sketchbook in front of him. “I don’t know. What do you want to teach me?” Jongho asked leaning towards you with a cheeky smile. His actions flustered you and you looked away for a moment, making him giggle. 

“You’re cute.” He stated, flipping your sketchbook open and slowly turning through the pages. How he could just say something like that? “Maybe teach me how to draw you.” He added on as he looked at the paper, trying to hide his giggly response to your reaction. 

“How about I just teach you with what I started with? How faces work, if that’s okay.” You evaded and brushed your hair out of your face. You taught Jongho the lines on faces basic lines to follow and just let him draw to get an idea of what he could do. This was just for fun afterall, you didn’t do it completely seriously and neither did he. Jongho just wanted to spend more time with you and thought this was fun. 

A silence crept over you both as he drew and you watched. You admired the pencil strokes and soft sound of the pencil on the paper, you also admired his hands. He had such nice, beautiful, tan skin and very nice hands. You couldn’t help but wonder how such nice hands would feel holding yours. 

“Jongho...” You started, still just looking at his drawing and hands. He turned his head to you but you avoided eye contact, just looking at the paper. “Hmm?” “Can we be friends?” Your question caught him very off guard, it just wasn’t what he was expecting. “I mean, I kind of thought we already were.” 

Week 2

Jongho had been thinking nonstop of his Saturday with you and he couldn’t help but think about how fun it would be to work on “Phase 2″ of the painting. This joy dragged on through the week, before he even really shared a class with you. He found himself doodling in his notebooks and even though they weren’t necessarily good in his opinion, it made him happy. 

“So how was painting? I forgot to ask earlier.” Hongjoong asked as he greeted Jongho one morning. It was still early before class and students were slowly pouring in as the group of boys stood in front of the school. Jongho instantly smiled at the question, lovely thoughts filling his mind at the mere mention. 

“It was a lot of fun. I kinda know how to draw now. Watch out I might become the next greatest artist.” Jongho joked and tucked his hands into his pocket. “Ah so you had because of art, not a certain partner?” San questioned, eyebrow cocking in Jongho’s direction. However someone caught Jongho’s eye, you. 

“Y/N!” He called softly, waving at you. You were caught by surprised but waved back, adjusting your bag over your shoulder. That was when Jongho gestured for you to come over and your heart dropped a little. You had never really talked to his group of friends, ever. You were convinced they didn’t know you existed. 

However you did it, you walked over there. Over the weekend you had made some decisions, some life decisions. One of them was inform your parents over the paint throwing in the yard BEFORE you did it and the other was go outside of your comfort zone more. Not only with your art, but also with your life. Making more friends was a little step in the right direction. 

“Goodmorning.” You greeted in a singsong voice, making Jongho’s ears turn pink slightly. “Goodmorning.” He greeted back and saw how your arms folded over your chest, noticing some dried green paint by your elbow. “I’m Wooyoung. Do we have classes together?” Wooyoung asked and his question stung a little, you had a lot of classes with him and he just never noticed you. 

“I know, we have quite a few classes together actually.” You laughed, brushing it off because you knew he meant no harm. This made Jongho frown, how could Wooyoung not know that? 

“Have you been painting?” Jongho asked, changing the subject. “Oh, yeah I have been. Why?” You asked, being confused at his sudden question. “You have some green paint on your arm.” He smiled and reached out rubbing the paint mark gently with his fingers. His touch made your cheeks burn bright red, especially as you had an audience. You simply looked down at the ground as he took care of it. “There, I think I got it all.” He stepped back, eyes trained on your burning red face. You had never felt so relieved to hear a school bell. 

He didn’t mean to fluster you like that, though he had to admit he thought it was ridiculously cute and you had never been flustered by a guy like that before. You liked it, you liked Jongho and it happened really fast.

Mrs. Kim noticed the chemistry that week, the chemistry between you and Jongho as you sketched out ideas and guided him when he drew. This was what she had hoped for, this was what she wanted. It was nice to see you smiling in class and it was nice to see someone who was thrown into an unlikely situation, run with it and make the best out of it. 

“Okay but why are the eyes all the way up there?” You asked with a small laugh, your face by Jongho’s shoulder. “Look not everyone’s anatomy is the same.” He clarified, trying to hold back his laugh. You shook your head and grabbed your own pencil, doodling a little cartoon nose under horribly realistic eyes and making the whole drawing even funnier. “I guess you’re right about anatomy.” You sighed and rested your head on his shoulder for a split second. You didn’t know what came over you it was something you did unconsciously, you were comfortable.

Jongho felt his heart pound in his chest at your small action but didn’t respond, not wanting to make things weird. However he did notice something, something sweet. When you moved your head his nose filled with the scent of flowers and sweet hardcandy and he loved it. “Do you have time this weekend to work on the painting? If not it’s fine, but - nevermind.” You were going to say, you really enjoyed spending time with him but held it back. Jongho frowned, he couldn’t that weekend. He had to cover someone’s shift at the convenience store he worked at. 

“I can’t this weekend, but next week I definitely can. I’m all yours.” He explained and your smile fell. “That’s too bad. The last time was fun. Like, really fun.” You said and turned away to your sketchbook. Jongho would’ve rather been with you than at the store, but work was something he couldn’t have just missed. With a sad smile, Jongho put his arm over the back of your chair to get your attention. 

Your cheeks were pink when you looked at him and your lips were pouting slightly, he was suddenly completely willing to skip work. “You’re cute when you pout.” His words came out before he could catch them and watched as your cheeks turned even redder. Where did these things come from? 

Week 3

The keychain was tucked carefully in Jongho’s hand as he waited for you in front of the school with Hongjoong and Seonghwa. He had seen the keychain on his way back home from work that Saturday. It was a small, stuffed, multicolored patchwork teddy bear on a rose gold keychain. When he saw it he thought of you and came to the conclusion, this was the way he was going to ask you out and break the sad news to you at the same time. 

“Let me read the note again.” Seonghwa asked Jongho and the younger boy shook his head. “No, she should be here soon.” He was on firm lookout for your figure approaching the school. 

Hongjoong tapped Seonghwa on the chest and whispered to him. “He seems to be nervous.” The statement was blatantly obvious and Seonghwa had to do everything in his power to not roll his eyes. “There she is.” He pointed out and Jongho quickly rolled the note up and slipped it inbetween one of the small loops on the keychain. 

“Hey, Y/N.” Hongjoong said and waved at you. You walked over with a soft smile and greeted the 3, looking at Jongho a little longer. He looked uncomfortable and fidgeted with his hands under your gaze. 

“So, how was your weekend?” Seonghwa asked, trying to distract you as Jongho moved by your backpack. “Pretty standard. Nothing really interesting.” You admitted and thought back to how boring it actually was. “How was it for you guys?” You asked and felt a little tug on your backpack from behind, turning your head you saw with his hand on your bag. “Sorry, you had a bug on your back. I think I flicked it off harder than I meant too.” He lied straight through his teeth, but  the keychain was on your bag. “Oh, thanks.” You said, shaking your head slightly at how odd he was acting.

 You looked at your watch, noting the fact that you still had to go talk to Mrs. Kim about a personal project. “I have to go talk to Mrs. Kim about something, but I will see you guys later.” You said and waved to them before starting to walk away. “Hey Y/N.” Jongho said after you, making you turn to look at him. He had a soft smile on his face and his ears were pink. “You look pretty today.” He said loud enough for not only Hongjoong and Seonghwa to hear, but the other students entering the school. 

You covered your mouth to hide your smile and quickly turned away to go to Mrs. Kim. Jongho giggled at your response only to garner funny looks from his older friends. “You are completely whipped.” Hongjoong said, still in shock at what he had just witnessed. “So what if I am? She’s cute when she’s flustered. Besides she might not like me much once she finds out I’m not in the art class anymore.” Jongho grabbed his bag off of the ground. “I doubt that, she likes you too. It’s blatantly obvious.” Seonghwa shrugged and headed inside of the school. “It is?” Jongho asked himself, wondering how he didn’t pick up the signs. 

“Y/N, good morning!” Mrs. Kim greeted as you entered her classroom. “Goodmorning.” You said in return and took a seat by her desk, laying your backpack in your lap. 

“So things with your semester project have been going well?” She asked, looking at you with a smile. “Yeah they’ve been going really well...” Your voice trailed off once you noticed the colorfull trinket on your bag. “Sorry what was that?” Your head snapped up at her question and you tried ignoring the keychain. “Sorry, it’ been going great. Jongho is really fun to work with. I think he’s teaching me more than I’m teaching him.” You said, fingers now fiddling with the little teddy bear. 

“I’ve noticed your not being so strict on yourself with drawing. It’s refreshing to see. It’s also refreshing to see you smiling in class.” Your fingers glided over the patchwork fabric, before moving to the chain where you noticed a rolled up piece of paper. “I have been happy.” You admitted, not being to contain your little smile. “Jongho does you good. Let’s pray he’ll be there to finish the project with you.” Mrs. Kim said, realising you were distracted in obviously happy thoughts. “Go to your first class, Ms. Y/N and get your head out of the clouds... in a few minutes.” She dismissed you and you smiled even wider. 

You left her classroom and leaned against the wall in the hall. Unrolling the note that was now clutched in your hand, you read it to yourself. 

“Hey Y/N, 

  I know this is kind of weird. But I guess that’s kind of fitting to our friendship, weird and something we both didn’t expect. Anyways, I saw this Saturday on my way home from work and it put a smile on my face. Naturally, the fact that it made me smile made me think of you. So please take this as a little gift, as a thank you for taking me under your colorful wing and making me smile.

This is also a sorry, the wrestling coach called me a few days ago and told me a position opened up on the team. So I won’t be in art class anymore. But I promise I will help you finish our project because, well I’m enjoying myself a lot and I want to spend more time with you.

That leads me to my next reason for this little gift. I was wondering if after this project, you would like to spend even more time with me? Maybe let me take you out on a date? If not, I would like to be friends, just let me know.

Also this bear’s name is Sunshine, take care of him well.

- Jongho” 

You had to cover your mouth and remind yourself that you were in school and not home in your room. Jongho liked you too, Jongho liked spending time with you and it felt surreal. You hadn’t had a crush in a long time, let alone one that liked you in return. 

Tucking the note in your pocket, you looked at the little teddy bear. “I’ll take care of you, Sunshine.” You said softly before scrambling for your class, noticing you were going to be late.

“You look happy.” Wooyoung commented as you past him to get to your seat. “I do?” You asked, not even attempting to hide your smile. “Yeah, you have that energy that says you got asked out.” Wooyoung was cheeky, you knew that but you didn’t know how much your demeanor could change from a simple confession. Yet here you were. 

“How did you know that?” You asked him and he Wooyoung started laughing. “You both are blind. He was so nervous this whole week about asking you out and felt horrible about not being able to work on the painting this weekend. Jongho never shuts up about you.” He shrugged and casually unpacked his things from his bag. “He really likes you.” Wooyoung added on and you quickly made your way to your seat as you noticed your teacher had arrived. But class was far from your mind. 

Jongho’s figure was recognizable from behind as you saw him walking in the hall. Broad shoulders, muscular figure and very soft looking hair, he was hard to miss. Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward trying to catch up with him to tap him on the shoulder. This wasn’t something you yelled out through the crowd. 

He turned around, instantly greeting you with a giant smile and his nose crinkling in the cutest way. “I found your note and your little gift.” You smiled just thinking about his sweet letter. Jongho’s cheeks turned bright red as he felt incredibly nervous to your response. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you in person. I have a hard time talking about my feelings sometimes. I hope it didn’t make you uncomfortable or anything.” His apology caught you off guard, could he really not see that you liked him too?

Grabbing his hand, you pulled him to the side and a bit away from other people wandering in the halls. “I would love to go on a date with you Jongho.” You blatantly stated, your hand still holding his. “Really?” His eyes went wide with disbelief, you liked him. Your fingers laced with his now and you started laughing. “I feel like we’re both horribly oblivious. Yes, really.” You were both quiet for a moment, thinking about how nice the other’s hand felt. 

“So, we’re gonna try and finish this weekend? I want to take you out on that date.” He quickly said, making you laugh. Jongho didn’t realise how eager he sounded until it came out, but he didn’t care. You didn’t say anything and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him in for a hug. 

Jongho reciprocated the action, arms wrapping around your waist gently as he hugged you in return. His face tucked into your neck and he took a deep breath. You smelled nice, like flowers and sweet hardcandies and as if Jongho needed anymore convincing that he liked you.

The weekend rolled around fast enough, yet you found yourself in a slump. The ideas you had regarding the project seemed less and less appealing as the days went by and surely enough you hated your idea. You were so inspiration blocked that you had reverted to spending your Saturday morning sitting infront of the paint splattered canvas, hoping to get an idea. 

“Y/N, you’re partner is here. I’m going to go to run some errands and then go out to dinner with friends. Have fun!” Your mother said from your bedroom door and you turned your head to her. “Alright mom, thanks.” You said and watched Jongho awkwardly enter your bedroom. 

“Hey.” He said softly, taking note of the fact that you weren’t in your paint clothes but dressed quite cute. Short denim overalls and an oversized striped shirt underneath, very simple and cute but completely fitting to you. But you didn’t look that happy, as a matter of fact you looked distraught. 

“What’s wrong?” Jongho asked and sat down on your bed. “I have no idea how to finish this. I had one, but now I hate it. I don’t know how to continue.” You explained, pulling your knees to your chest and looking at Jongho. He had a concerned expression, nose crinkling as his eyebrows furrowed. “Hmm.” He hummed and turned around to look at the paint splatters. 

“Scoot over.” He said, kicking his shoes off and sitting down next to you at the top of your bed, back leaning against the headboard. The side of his body pressed into your comfortably as he settled down to stare at the painting. “How long have you been doing this?” He asked, glancing towards you and taking note of how incredibly close your faces were. 

“Too long.” You mumbled, resting your head on your knees. “Entirely too long.” Your voice was soft as you continued to look straight ahead. Art block was the worst feeling. 

“Distract me a little. How was your first wrestling practice?” You asked, genuinely interested in the topic. You craned your head to look at him, also taking note of how close your faces were. “It was really nice to be back in a familiar space again.” He started and you watched him speak. He looked happy talking about his passion and the made you feel mushy on the inside. Was this how he felt when you talked about art? 

You couldn’t help but giggle at his happy expression, he was ridiculously cute and he didn’t even know it. “What was that for?” Jongho asked, leaning into you a little more with a soft smirk. “Happy is cute on you. Can I come to a match of yours?” You asked, burrying your face into your arms a little more. The question was surprising but Jongho loved it, you were slowly taking initiative. “I would love for you to come to a match of mine.” His voice was hushed suddenly, not feeling the need to speak loud. Even though it was just the two of you home, he wanted this moment to be private. 

You both simply looked at eachother for a moment, the project at hand being far away from your thoughts. Jongho’s hand moved to yours and you let him take it. His thumb drawing shapes over your soft skin. 

“Can I kiss you?” His question caught you completely off guard, but not in a negative way at all. He realised the question was kind of out of the blue, but your naturally pink tinted cheeks, pouty lips and soft expression were too much for him. He really wondered if your lips tasted like the way you smelled, like sweet candy. 

You nodded and lifted your head from your arms, your heart pounding in your chest as his hand gently moved up your arm. You leaned further into him and smiled as his hand finally reached your cheek, cupping it gently. He was watching you and admired the way your eyes fluttered shut, the soft smile playing on your lips and the deeper pink tint on your cheeks. 

He finally leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours, fingers moving under your chin. His lips were pillowy, soft and incredibly gentle against yours, not wanting to hurt you in any way or form. To him, you tasted exactly like he thought you would. Sweet like candy and he absolutely loved it. 

You didn’t realise it until you pulled away, but your hand was on his chest gripping his t-shirt. “Sorry.” You mumbled, letting go only for his hand to catch yours and keep it there on his chest. “It’s okay.” His voice came out as whisper as he locked eyes with you. You gripped his shirt again, now using it as leverage to pull his lips against yours again. This time catching Jongho slightly by surprise. 

This kiss was different, the soft, careful demeanor being a lot less present as he pulled you into him. His hands were on your waist and you moved to sit on your knees, lips not seperating once. As his lips moved against yours, you hummed as he squeezed your waist gently before threading your fingers through his silky hair. 

“You taste sweet.” He mumbled against your lips and wrapped his arms around you fully. Jongho laid down, making sure to pull you with him and allowing you to rest on his chest. He looked at your flushed cheeks and smiled, pressing his forehead to yours. “God you’re so cute.” He commented, revelling in the feeling of your fingers in his hair. 

You tugged slightly and watched his eyes close, long eyelashes catching your attention. Jongho was pretty enough to draw. What you weren’t expecting however, was the low groan the emitted from his throat. 

You kissed him again with a total new feeling to it. The way he looked, the way he sounded, it was too much. Jongho could feel it too, the way your breathing had sped up, the way your chest pressed against his, it was all just completely natural for him to get worked up. 

As his tongue glided over your bottom lip, gaining more access to your mouth, his hands grabbed your waist and moved you where he wanted you. Straddling his waist now, you could completely feel the effect you had on him and a wave of nerves hit you. “Jongho...” You started, sitting up slightly and only placing your clothed core over his. A moan came out before you could finish what you were saying and the heat on your cheeks flooded back. 

“I’ve never done this before.” You finished, your hands on his chest as he looked up at you. “That’s okay, we don’t have to.” He said quickly, not wanting to make you uncomfortable at all. He wouldn’t want you to do anything you would regret. “That’s not what I meant, I just wanted you to know. I want to do this, if you do.” You said, smiling softly at his gentle words and hands coming to find yours. Your finger’s laced together and you looked at how well they fit.

“I do. I really do.” He said, sitting up so that his face was inches from yours again. His movements made his hips buck into yours, shooting relief through your body and making you squeeze his hands. Jongho was loving your little reactions to minor movements. 

His lips attached to your jaw, lacing light kisses over the skin and keeping his eyes on you. Your eyes were closed and you were loving the feeling of his lips on your skin. His finger tips danced over the skin of your arms before holding the back of your neck tightly. Lips moving down over your neck, you let out a gasp as he nipped at your skin. “You sound so pretty.” Jongho praised and his words went straight to your core. 

“If you want to stop, just tell me.”  He said between kisses on the base on your neck. “Please don’t.” Your words came out as a whine even at the thought. He felt so good. 

You toyed with the hem of his t-shirt, hoping he’d take the hint that he would take it off. “You’re eager.” Jongho commented and pulled his lips off of your skin. You thought your eagerness had killed the mood and were about to apologize, when he swiftly pulled his shirt off over his head. 

His skin looked soft like satin and you found your fingers wandering over the newly exposed skin before moving to the clips of your overalls. You took a deep breath and undid them swiftly, tugging your shirt off and discarding it with his. This amount of exposure was new to you and you felt incredibly shy, the simple white lace of your bra not seeming nice enough for the occasion. You looked down, breaking eye contact with him. 

“You’re so beautiful.” His comment made your heart flutter and you looked up again. “So beautiful.” He repeated and you took the plunge, pressing your lips to his harshly and pushing him back. Jongho found that he quite enjoyed the weight of your body on his and that he really enjoyed the feeling of your chest against his, no he loved the feeling. “So soft.” He complimented again as his fingers ran over the skin of your back. 

“Stop complimenting me.” You giggled and let out a yelp as he flipped you both over. His hard on was now directly pressing against your core, harshly and your hair was splayed over your pillow. “Why should I stop?” Jongho asked and kissed over your collarbones, his tongue peaking out to lick at your skin. Moving down further, his mouth was at the edge of your bra and his hands moved to undo it. “I mean every word, you know.” He said and watched you slide the item of clothing off of your arms. 

“Why are you being so sweet?” You asked as your arms covered your now bare chest in slight embarrassment. Your question was very surprising to Jongho, he didn’t have a reason not to be. He felt incredibly lucky to be in the position he was in and he was going to let you know that, you deserved that. 

“Because I feel lucky. You’re trusting me, you’re letting me do this with you.” He explained, odd kisses being placed around your lips. “I feel lucky too, lucky I’m doing this with you.” You admitted and your arms moved away from your chest, feeling even more comfortable with him. 

Jongho allowed his hands to move to your chest, squeezing your breast slightly as he nipped at your skin. The kisses became more intense as you felt him suck on your skin, he wanted to leave marks. You hummed when his tongue moved over your nipple, licking the nub before wrapping his lips around it. Moaning, your nails moved over his shoulders and he hummed, vibrations somehow moving through your whole body. 

His lips lazily moved over your skin to reach your other nipple, to give it the same attention as his hands moved down your torso. He pushed your overalls down and you helped him pull them off, but not wanting his mouth off of your skin. Your breathing picked up as his hand rubbed over your clothed slit and he bit down on your nipple slightly. All of this was just so stimulating, you couldn’t help but already feel something starting to bubble up in your stomach. 

“Jongho~” You moaned, nails digging into his shoulders again. He was loving the fact that he could draw these reactions from you. He pulled your underwear to the side, making you gasp as his index finger ran over your bare slit and gathered your arousal. “Let me know if you want me to stop.” He said again as he knew things were getting more intense. Jongho looked at you as you bit your bottom lip, him pushing his finger into you slowly. You mewled and shut your eyes, accepting the new feeling and loving it. His finger curled and he repeated his actions. You were so tight around him, making his mind wander to how you’d feel wrapped around him. 

His finger’s picked up with pace, curling his finger every now and then before adding another. It was a bit of a stretch but nothing uncomfortable, the opposite actually. You were a moaning mess, the coil in your stomach tightening rapidly with each thrust of his fingers. 

Your hand shot up, covering your mouth as a particularly loud moan left you, your other hand grabbing his hair. Jongho could tell you were incredibly close to cumming, walls tightening around his fingers and he watched your face. Your cheeks were flushed and your eyes were shut, but your hand was still covering your mouth.

“Let me hear you.” Jongho pleaded, lips moving by your ear as his pace picked up even more. “Cum for me, please.” He mumbled, kissing the skin softly as you tried shutting your legs instinctively. His hand prevented that and you pulled his lips onto yours as you released, back arching of the mattress. He kept pumping his fingers through your orgasm as you kissed him deeply and moaned against his lips. 

You whined, moving to push his hand away because the feeling was too much. “Too much.” You whimpered and Jongho pulled his hand away. “You did so good.” He mumbled into the skin of your neck only for it to be cut off with a moan. Your hand had found his bulge and you palmed it gently. It wasn’t fair that you were getting all the attention. Jongho burried his face in the crook of your neck, feeling your hand grip him through his jeans. 

A wave of nerves overtook you as you felt how big he was, but you weren’t backing down now. You wanted him. 

You undid his jean and he helped you pull them down, laughing slightly at the awkward movements. But it didn’t kill the mood at all, as a matter of fact the small giggles put you more at ease. As he stripped himself of his jeans and boxers, you pulled your own underwear off and threw it to the ground. 

Jongho sat on his knees inbetween your legs, cock standing against his lower stomach. He looked thick and you couldn’t help but feel the heat pool between your legs again. Before you did anything else you reached towards your nightstand and pulled open the drawer. You had a small box of condoms stored there for a rainy day and today it was pouring. 

He watched you, running his hands over your thighs as you went to pull a condom out. Something about the action was so innocent, especially when you handed it to him with wide eyes. Smiling, he grabbed and leaned forward to kiss your lips lightly. You watched him tear open the foil packet and roll it on, the action being very intriguing to watch. 

“You’re still okay with this right?” Jongho asked as one of his hands found your hip. “I am. I promise.” You said softly and found that for some reason you weren’t nervous anymore. You felt so cared for and comfortable, you didn’t have a reason too. 

Using his hand, he raised your hips and guided himself towards your slit. Running the tip over your slit and gathering some of your wetness before pressing into you. Jongho made sure to lean forward and hold you close as he looked for any signs of discomfort or pain. But it didn’t hurt, the stretch was a little uncomfortable but there wasn’t any pain. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer.

“You okay?” He asked, kissing your lips gently before bottoming out completely. You let out a small gasp at the full feeling and your walls clenched in response. He felt so good. You nodded and looked up into his eyes, allowing your body to adjust to him. “Please move.” You whined slightly, any discomfort you had being completely gone and now just being very needy. You bucked your hips making Jongho chuckle before drawing his own hips back.

He started off slow, his hands moving down to hold your thighs and wrap your legs around his waist. Hips drawing out and in gently. The way your body was angled made him hit all the right spots and making the feeling even more intense than it was with his fingers. “Jongho, you feel so good.” You choked out as your fingers toyed with the hairs on the back of his neck. 

“No baby, you feel good. You look so good for me.” He commented into your neck before looking at your expression. Your cheeks were the pinkest he had ever seen and you’re lips were swollen, eyes hooded as you looked up at him with a moan leaving you as you did. 

“So beautiful.” He remarked, saying it more to himself than anyone else. His hips picked up the pace, causing your nails to dig into his shoulders and a small cry came from your mouth. You were so close again and Jongho could feel it. Your walls squeezed him tighter and tighter with each move of his hips and he couldn’t help but let out a groan at the feeling. His hand moved inbetween your legs and gently rubbed your clit, feeling that he was on the edge of cumming as well. 

“Come on, beautiful. Cum for me.” He mumbled, moaning through his own sentence as his hips stuttered and stilled completely. Your own orgasm following not far behind, making your legs tighten around his waist. A small cry left your mouth as you felt your legs shake slightly and Jongho rubbed them soothingly as he came down from his own high. 

He allowed himself to rest on top of you with a small laugh and you pet his hair, breathing heavily yourself. “Thank you for being so sweet to me.” You whispered softly, barely being audible. Jongho lifted his head to look at you, smiling before getting off of you and laying next to you. “Thank you for being you. It makes being sweet easy.” You couldn’t help but cover your face in embarrassment and he started laughing. “We just had sex but that embarrasses you? You’re a beautiful surprise everytime I’m with you.” Jongho chuckled and turned over onto his side to look at you. His fingers started tracing over the bare skin of your stomach and he just admired you. 

Jongho felt like he was head over heels for you and he had never felt that way for anyone before. 

You were watching his expression, taking note of how happy and giggly he was. His eyes were sparkling and that was something you never really noticed before. That was when an idea came to you. 

“Oh.” You said, sitting up suddenly and catching him off guard. “Oh? What’s wrong?” Jongho asked and followed your body as you quickly pulled on clothes. “Nothing’s wrong, I have an idea for the project.” You smiled at him and he shook his head in disbelief. Your mind was fascinating to him. 

You tugged on your painting shirt and placed yourself on the floor infront of the paint splattered canvas. In all honesty, you were done looking at the thing but you had to take inspiration when it came, even if it was an odd time.

Jongho moved to put his jeans back on, not feeling the need for his shirt just yet as he sat behind you on the ground. He pressed his chest to your back and watched you grab a white chalk pencil. “Why a white pencil?” He asked, genuinely curious as to what you were doing. “Because white shows up better on the colors of background than a regular pencil would.” You explained and leaned back into his bare chest. 

“Oh.” His voice was soft as he spoke by your ear, sending goosebumps over your body. You giggled slightly and just started sketching, glancing back at him to get a general idea of his eyes and their shape. “What’s your idea beautiful?” He asked and you smiled. “I’m going to paint you. Well, just your eyes. Because I can and you opened my eyes to trying new things.” You explained and started mapping out his features. Jongho fell quiet at your explanation pressed his lips to your shoulder, just feeling greatfull.

Week 4

Walking into the cafeteria, you stretched out your back and adjusted your bag. Painting was doing a number on your posture but you loved how it was starting to look and so was Jongho. He knew he didn’t do much when it came to the project itself but he still felt proud, of you and of the work he had done. 

You spotted Jongho at his table with the other’s and smiled. You hadn’t seen him since that Saturday and were wondering if things were going to be awkward, they weren’t over text. But in real life things could be different. 

He obviously hadn’t told any of the others about that Saturdays’ actual events, it was too private and too sacred to him for that. Eventhough he hadn’t seen you since that day, you were the only thing running through his mind. At wrestling practice, in class, at work and at home. His head was in the clouds and he absolutely never wanted to come down. 

Catching a glimpse of you, he couldn’t help but wave you over. When you saw him standing, smiling and waving to you from his table you realised you were worried about nothing. 

“Hey beautiful.” Jongho said, earning a deep blush from you and surprised looks from the others. “That’s new.” San commented and Jongho smacked him on the shoulder, before grabbing your hand. He sat back down and pulled you down with him so that you were sat on his knee. It was intimate and it garnered looks from people who didn’t know what was going on between you two, but you really couldn’t care. You were although embarrassed, incredibly happy. 

“Project needs to be turned in a week. Think we’ll finish it on time?” Jongho asked softly and you nodded your head. “I think so. I have to present it too. But you have wrestling practice, so you focus on that. I can handle the rest of the project.” You assured, allowing your hand to come up to his cheek. Jongho could feel his ears turning pink at the sudden affection, not used to you being the one to make the first move. 

Your thumb stroked his cheek gently and you quickly pecked his lips. You were feeling brave. “What was that?” He asked while giggling and you shrugged. 

“Just another new thing I’m trying out.” 

A/N: This took too long to write and it is all over the place. This is also the biggest story I have ever written so if you actually take the time to read this... I’m sorry? 

Sorry it took so long as well. A lot of stuff has been going on in my brain lately. Anyways, feedback is kindly appreciated and encouraged. 

[knowltonsrangers]

Alphabet: Lafayette

[a/n: Here’s Laf!! For the lovely @thefanficnerd ❤️Hope u enjoy! ❤️]

Marquis de Lafayette x reader

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Anytime, any place, anywhere. Between tucking loose hairs back behind your ears, to looping your fingers together in a tight hold, the answer to affection is always yes. Laf shows affection in his own ways, and it’s these little things that send you into a flurry.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Oh, literally the sweetest guy! He’s a good friend, because he’s an excellent listener and is brimming with amazing advice. He’d always give you a choice, and never turn his back. If something were to occur with your friendship, he wouldn’t get mad and blow you off. He’d like to talk it out and make amends, if plausible. Text him at 3 am? He’ll answer moments later. He’d be there every step of the way, no matter what!

The friendship could start literally anywhere. Laf is a little less shy then Baker, so he’d spark a conversation just based on the shirt you’re wearing. Sitting next to him in a long lecture hall is always entertaining, because passing notes or working on assignments together is almost a given.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

OH BOY YES. Switches between big & little spoon, but I’d say he’s 75% of the time big spoon in cuddling. Just cause he’s always wanting to show how much he loves you, and when he’s got you in front of him, it takes so much willpower to not kiss you silly. He cuddles in bed, and snuggles on the couch.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Oh yes! Yes to settling down, for sure! It’ll only take a couple months of dating to see how much of his heart he gives to you, so moving in together is a given if you are down for that!

About cooking & cleaning, man he is absolutely the best roommate on those types of things. While you both have designated chores and such when it comes to cleaning, cooking is where it becomes fun. Time in the kitchen is best spent, because of the shared meals and laughs. Getting to make dinner together is almost as fun as eating it together!

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

I hate to say it, but Laf is pretty loyal to a fault. He’s extremely trusting and maybe that goes over his head sometimes. If he had to break up with you for a reason, I’d take him some time alone to really think it over. It would most likely be an argument that would ignite the fire, but maybe a build up of things start the sparks.

Breaking up would be absolutely in person, and it would be calmly stated. No fighting, because his hearts already shattered.

(this made me so sad to type ffffs)

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Commitment is 100%! When you got him, he’s yours. He wouldn’t jump down your throat about marriage, but it would come up naturally. Because it only takes him a short time to know that your his soulmate, and whenever you’re ready, he’ll wait until then!

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

GENTLE is like the word I use the most to describe Laf! (especially TURN! Laf) regarding physically, his touches are feather light and full of emotions. Emotionally, I’d say he has a better guard up than most. Similar to Baker, it’d take a low blow to see him get upset or angry. He’s careful with his feelings, but he’s very open with you about them.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

If y’all ain’t holding hands, y’all are hugging. Laf loves to slide his arms around your shoulders and squeeze you silly. He loves to mumble how much he loves you in your ear, and press kisses all along your temple. 🥺

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

I’d say after six months, give or take. If one of you were to go away for a while, he’d probably say it then, because half his heart is missing when you’re not around. He’d either say it in a moment of confidence, or a moment of vulnerability. If you say it first, all his doubts vanish and he’ll reply energetically the same!

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

35%? That’s a bit much, and I don’t see him as a jealous boyfriend type! it’s not so much that he’s insecure, but it’s that he enjoys and cherishes his memories with you. If someone else were to wedge in and divide your relationship in half, he’d be jealous of the less and less time spent together.

And on what he’d do? He’d talk to you about it. Pull you aside about it one night. He’s eager and willing to find a solution!

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

ANGELIC. No cap! Soft and fluttery and warm. He loves to kiss you on the corners of your mouth, but kisses are never scarce just at the tops of your cheekbones. Kissing away any sad day tears :,)

He loves to be kissed on the underside of his jaw, but he melts when you peck him on the lips.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

BEST. Dad mode? Activated. He’ll sit himself right on the ground, no matter where, and carry on a conversation with a child for as long as they’d like. If you have family that is younger or an infant, he’s all over them at gatherings and such. His voice is so caring and soft, and his accent floats along with his words in such a calming tone.

Babies fall asleep in his arms INSTANTLY

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

smooching over coffee or tea. Just kidding! Well, kinda. Good Morning kisses are a must, and while it’s very difficult to get out of bed, y’all drag each other out. Monday’s it’s Laf, Friday’s it’s usually you. By the end of the week, you’re wiped out, and Laf is just a bundle of energy.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

MOVIE DATES AND DINNER DATES AND WALKS IN THE PARK AND HAND HOLDING AND FEEDING DUCKS. Could all be in one night or just several different dates. It doesn’t matter, Laf just enjoys doing the simplest things with you!

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Rather slowly, I’d say? It’s just by his nature to want to hear the most he can about you, because he’s throughly interested. He just wants to know your favorite color, food, season.. literally everything! And don’t be discouraged that he’s not sharing his favorites with you, just ask :) He actually doesn’t even realize that he’s withholding information. There is no keeping secrets with him!

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

It takes a lot, and I mean a LOT to get Laf angry. He is so usually calm and collected, that seeing him in an angered frenzy is kinda shocking. If you catch him on a bad day, be careful to note that it’s most likely not his intention to direct any anger at you. If he catches himself being cross with you, expect a dozen apologies and kisses later.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He doesn’t have a photographic memory, but it’s pretty damn close! Birthdays, anniversaries, and important dates are always on his calendar!

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

when you said you loved him back 🥺 he’d be, for lack of a better term,,, apprehensive of your response? If you say you do in fact, love him? His heart leaps in his chest and he all but jumps for joy. He’s opening his heart to you, and he’d remember that moment forever.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

BIG MAYBE. He’s not overprotective-but if some guy or gal was getting up in your business, unwanted attention of course, he’d throw an arm around your shoulder and assert his relationship to you very clearly.

Him, on the other hand, will wave you off and say that he’s fine to handle himself in these situations, because he never wants to see you get hurt. But, by all means, glue yourself to his side and shoo the other person away. A sad Laf is a sad y/n.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

10,000%. See’s a daisy outside Washington’s HQ and brings it back home to you. Because it “reminded him of you”

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Leaves coffee mugs out until they stain the bottom with brown rings.

Hm. Also known to vacuum at odd hours.

OH and the only other thing he’s guilty of is sometimes forgetting to kiss you exactly every possible moment of the day.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He’s effortlessly extremely attractive. He’s about as concerned as a mouse.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

THE PHATEST YES IN ALL THE UNIVERSE

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Laf has a U.S. quarter collection. Don’t @ me.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He’s not a fan of a messy house. While he is so guilty of leaving small things about, he’d never scold you for leaving your keys on the floor because they just missed the hook. But he can’t live in a mess. His desk is always tidy and beaming with professionalism.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Sleeps 8 hours a day! Snoozes with you are always a 10 on his scale. He’s always ready to fall into a nap with you, suffocating you into a hug to cuddle. Laf snores, just a bit. Not loud enough to wake you!

[tag list!: @shieldblacksailsonfrontier  @thefanficnerd  @simvez  @viper-official  @the-anxious-youth @boredthreatrekid ]

[loudsuitlover]

Doctor Harry

A/N: I feel like I forgot how to write but I guess the best way to overcome that is trying to write again. I’m still trying to write Lawyer Harry and Ohana but I’m struggling I don’t know why. Also this on first person POV. Thought I’d try something different too. Anyway, sorry for this annoying intro I don’t even know who I’m writing this for haha if after all this ranting you still decided to read, thank you and happy reading! xxx

INDIE’S POV

This skirt fitted me better last spring. I look at my profile on the mirror and focus on my belly and my lips frown at the muffin top I got during the winter. I really need to get back with the abs routine Sergio had made for me. I guess it would help if I didn’t hate abs with a passion. I’d be so fit if I didn’t hate abs and then it would be over for all of them skinny bitches. 

“Indie?” Jason barely whispers my name outside the door. 

“Coming.” 

I open the door fast as soon as I get my white coat on, getting my braid out of it as I walk with Jason towards the doctors’ offices. I have yet to meet my mentor, doctor Hill, since yesterday he didn’t work. That’s something I’ll never understand. If he’s not working then how can he have a medical student assigned for hospital practice? That’s beyond me. Thank God for young doctors who still remember what it was like to be an ignored Med student and help you out and take care of you. God bless them. 

“You look cute today.” Jason points out but I know he means it more like a suspicion than a compliment so I just roll my eyes and check I have my notepad on the pocket of my coat. “Hoping to see Mario again, are we?” 

I chuckle. 

“You know some of us don’t want to jump the bones of every nice guy we meet.” I tease him.

“You’re telling me. You haven’t been with anyone in fourteen months.”

“You’re counting?” I can feel my face contorting in desbelief. “That’s sick.” 

“I mean I don’t know if it’s been fourteen or fifteen or what but more than a year.” 

I look into his brown eyes and hold his stare for long enough so that he undertands I do not necessarily want to discuss this here and now where any professor could walk past us any minute and he rolls his eyes so I know he’ll drop it. 

“Anyway, our paths part here.” He announces right before he knocks on an office’s door and moves his mouth so that it looks like the voice of his mentor is his own. 

I chuckle again as I make my way to office 32, where I read doctor Hill should be today in the doctor’s planning. A patient stops me on the way there and asks me where the digestive doctors hall is and I give him the directions with the smile that comes naturally to my face. I’ve been told that a lot, that I’m always smiling, even my grandad used to call me toothy when I was little for how much he would see my teeth when I smiled. 

I’ve been studying medicine for four years and I’ve been dressing up as a doctor for hospital practice for two but it’s still exciting when some patient actually mistakes me with a real doctor because well, it’s so clear to me that I’m not, but it’s encouraging to see that people think I could be. 

The office door is opened and I hear two male voices casually chatting on the inside. I don’t want to eavesdrop, especially because the probability of getting caught is rather high so I knock on the opened door and wait for them to give me permission to enter. They just stop talking so I take another step and stand on their sight. Mario, the nice young doctor that helped me yesterday, is looking at me with raised eyebrows. It’s almost hard to recognize him without the surgery gown so I reckon it might be the same for him but then he smiles and I give him a smile back. 

“Hi, Mario.” 

“Hi. Looking for doctor Hill?” 

I nod at his question and he nods back as if telling me I’m on the right place but before he can speak the other doctor interrupts him. 

“Here it is, Mario. D’you want me to print it fo you?”

Mario moves to the side so I can see the man who owns that voice and I know I must look stunned because I am. Doctors don’t usually look like that and I have never been this lucky. Usually our mentors are doctors over 50 and when they’re male they’re usually fat or bald, sometimes both, but he looks like a movie star or like a singer or someone from Olympus and I try to save the way he looks on my mind as if I already know no one is ever going to look like him ever. 

I don’t know how long I’ve been standing here for or if any of them has said anything to me but by the way his green eyes stare into mine, amused, I feel like it’s been too long. How did he even manage to be a mentor? I don’t think he’s even a full doctor yet, he looks to young for that. 

“You’re so unlucky, Harry. You got the most annoying student, always asking questions...” Mario jokes. 

I chuckle, finding it funny that he would remember how I apologized the day before for making so many questions. He was really nice yesterday and he’s being very nice now saving me from my embarrassingly staring at Harry. He then stands up from his chair on the other side of the desk.

“Hi, I’m Harry. Nice to meet you.” 

And much to my surprise, not that I’m complaining though, he approaches me and places one hand on my elbow, leaning in and pressing his cheek against mine in the way I would greet a friend. But he’s not a friend. No doctor has ever greeted me like that. And he just introduced himself as Harry, didn’t he? Does that mean he wants me to call him Harry? No doctor Hill anymore? 

“I’m Indigo.” I tell him.

“Indigo.” He smiles and I think I’ve forgotten how to speak. “That’s such a beautiful name.” 

“Thank you.” I look at my feet because I’m gonna fangirl if he keeps smiling at me. “My mum’s a painter and a hippy.” 

He laughs and I feel my breath getting caught on my throat. I think I’m having a tachicardia. I feel stupid. It’s not like I’ve never seen a handsome man before. But I’ve certainly never been this close to one and I’ve never had his attention. 

“Well, I’m on my way to the operating room.” Mario announces. “See you, mate.” 

He gives Harry a warning look before he goes but Harry chuckles and shakes his head, dismissing his friend’s look and my nerves only grow stronger on my belly. 

“Well, Indigo, sit here next to me.” He grabs the chair next to his and brings it  closer to his until they’re touching and then he looks at me so I take a seat. “We usually check the list of the patients who are coming and read their clinical record before the visits begin, to be a little ahead, you know.” He smiles again. 

If he keeps smiling at me like that I might faint at some point today. He then turns towards the laptop and starts telling me about the patients, even though sometimes it feels like he’s more thinking out loud than talking to me. I should really listen, especially in case he feels like asking me questions during the day because I really do not want to look like an idiot but I could stare at him all I want now and he wouldn’t notice and I can’t let this chance go so if I have to look like an idiot I will. 

I let my eyes travel freely across his features. His hair is brown and is a little too long for a male who normally works on a surgery room. It’s not like it’s inappropriate or anything and it looks incredible on him and something tells me he knows that but it’s not usual that someone from his status wears their hair that long and that tousled. He asks something out loud but I know he’s not waiting for an answer because as soon as he asks it he searchs on the browser- and it’s not like I could have answered anyway. My mind is busy and the moment my eyes drop to his arm, flexed, elbow resting on the table, I could gulp just imagining those arms holding me against this very same desk and- what the fuck am I doing? 

I know he can’t hear what I think but I still have to remind myself that and I pray to God he does not turn around because I’m pretty sure I’m blushing. He’s wearing the hospital uniform, with the baby blue button up and the baby blue pants, but I entertain my mind trying to picture his naked torso. This is so wrong for the love of God, he’s my professor. I really need to chill. I feel like a dog in season. But this is just extraordinary, I am not usually around men this hot, and what’s the harm in daydreaming anyway? 

The moment my eyes move back up they stare into his amused ones and I feel my cheeks heating up so I get afraid I’m blushing. 

“You were awfully quiet.” He states, a somewhat smug grin on his face but I am not judging, I made it pretty easy for him to make fun of me. “Did you understand?”

“Mostly.” 

“Mostly, huh?” He smirks. “If there’s something I say that you don’t understand you just stop me, alright? Now, can you read an electrocardiogram?” 

“I should be able to.” 

He chuckles and places it one in front of me. I am getting embarrassingly exciting that he finds me funny but I have to bite back a smile of my own at his friendly attitude. 

“Go on then.” 

“Okay, first thing we need to look for P on II and V1.” I speak very slow so that I have time to think while I do so and judging by the way he’s smirking, he’s noticing. “And we see that we have indeed P waves, which is good, no auricular fibrilation then. And then we look for QRS and we check the frequency by counting and multiplying” I do the calculations on my mind “and it’s 75 hearbeats per minute, a little high but nothing to worry about, people tend to get nervous when we do electrocardiograms on them. And we check the dimensions of the waves, the height, the width... And I don’t know this looks pretty normal to me.” 

I dare to look at him and he’s smirking but it doesn’t look cocky to me, it’s more like a proud smile so I smile back, happy with myself. 

“Very good.” He smiles. “Just a little, tiny detail but you obviously don’t need to know that so don’t worry.” He stands up from his chair and stands right behind me and places his left hand on the desk in front of me so I can his chest hovering over me. His finger points a random P wave. “If you look closely at the P wave, does it look normal to you?” 

I swallow, quite frankly I don’t know if the P wave looks normal or not. I guess it doesn’t because otherwise he wouldn’t be asking that but why does he smell so good? And why is his arm hovering over my chest? This could be the moment I faint. 

“I know it’s not because that’s why you’re asking but I don’t see it.” 

He laughs again and even though it’s silly, I can’t help but wonder if he laughs this much with everyone. 

“It’s a little higher than normal, but it’s very subtle, it’s okay if you don’t see it yet and anyway it’s not that important.” He laughs again. “But it might indicate a right atrium hypertrophy. That’s for an A+ in cardiology.” He smiles before taking his seat back and opening a new record. 

“What year are you in?” He’s not looking at me while he asks that. 

“Fourth.” 

He nods his head but keeps quiet after that and I’m not sure why he even asked that but for some reason- it might be because his scent still lingers on my nostrils or because he just hovered over me or because he indirectly asked my age- I feel a strange tension over my shoulders so I ask him something I genuinely don’t know anyway about the patient’s record and he even grabs a paper to draw some shit and for some reason that’s turning me on. The way he speaks, so slow but without hesitation, he’s got a very calming voice, and how many things he knows and how smart he seems to be... I’ve always had a thing for intelligent guys and the fact that he’s also so close and smells so good is only adding to that. 

“Hi there.” 

A very tall man with a white hospital uniform walks in and gives us both a look before he takes a seat on the counter next to the stretcher. He must be the nurse. 

“So” He says, giving us his back as he types something on his laptop “who are you?” He turns to look at me. 

I find it a little rude, but I don’t know this man at all. He might just be one of those people who come out strong so I give him a smile. 

“I’m a fourth year med student. I have practice here today.” I explain. 

“I know that, I’m your mentor, doctor Hill, but what’s your name?” 

“Oh, sorry.” My tongue melts. “I mean Indigo, not sorry. My name’s not sorry.” 

I hear Harry laughing out loud behind me and doctor Hill smiles as well. I totally looked like an idiot but at least they seemed to have found it endearing. 

“Well, my name’s not sorry either.” Doctor Hill said. “You can call me Peter, Indigo.” 

“Okay, Peter.” 

“I see you’ve already met my resident doctor, doctor Styles.” 

I nod my head. 

“Cool, so now that we all know each other... Harry, who’s the first one?” 

Like that we start visiting the patients and for the first time since I started my hospital practice, I actually have fun during one of them. Both Peter and Harry are quite funny, even though they do tease me a lot, but they also allow me to do a lot of things like weighting the patients, checking their blood pleasures and Harry even lets me do a clinical interview, under his watch obviously, but it was still exciting. The lady I did the interview to was so nice and I could feel Harry’s attentive stare with a proud, amused smile the entire time, even the lady smiled every time she looked at him. 

After about three hours of visits, Peter stands up from his chair next to mine and stretches his back. 

“So Harry, I think I’m gonna go to the surgery rooms to give a hand.” He states and my heart drops to my belly at the anticipation that he’s gonna make me go with him and my day with Harry is over. “What do you want to do, Indigo?” I hold my breath at the surprise. “Do you wanna come with me or stay here with Harry? Well, that’s if Harry doesn��t mind but I think he doesn’t.” He smirks. 

“No, of course not. It’s actually nice to have a nurse around.” He smiles. 

“I think I’m gonna stay then if that’s okay.” 

Peter nods and smiles. 

“Do you prefer visits over surgery room or you just prefer doctor Styles over me?” 

I see Harry shaking his head from the corner of my eye and look down at my hands. 

HARRY’S POV

“Sorry” I call Indigo with the nickname she gave herself and she raises her eyebrows “would you please call the next patient? Mrs Hope.” 

“Good name.” 

I cannot not smile. She stands up from her chair and I entertain my eyes with the laptop screen just to pretend I’m not watching her all the time. I think I’ve managed to rebuild my reputation from how much of a fool of myself I made when I introduced myself to her but it just took me off guard. I wasn’t expecing to have a student around at all, much less that the student was going to look like her. 

I’m also done with feeling guilty for thinking about her  that way, even though now I’m starting to feel guilty for not feeling guilty, but I can’t control my mind and I don’t think anyone who’s seen her could judge me. Plus, she can’t know what I’m thinking. Even Mario flirted with her this morning...

But no, I don’t want to make her feel uncomfortable or to take advantage of my position at all. She came here to learn and I really need to stop looking at her thighs. She closes the door after Mr Copper and I feel the hair at the back of my neck bristle when I see the way he looks at her. 

“Good morning, doctor.” He greets me. “You’re very lucky you have such a beautiful assistant.” 

Sorry smiles but her shoulders have tensed and even though I’ve only known her for a few hours, I can tell when someone’s uncomfortable and I know she is. I don’t blame her either. I reckon I’d be uncomfortable too. 

“She’s also very smart too. That’s why she’s here actually.” 

I don’t want to be rude with my patient but for some reason I felt like I had to protect her. I catch her trying not to smile looking at her thighs and I try not to smile too. We do Mr Copper’s visit and she starts scribbling on her notepad and I have to help myself from peeking at the questions she’s going to make. I wonder if what she’s written down if that she has noticed Mr Copper jugular. 

When Mr Copper walks out, I turn to look at her and smile. Again. 

“Thank you.” She says. 

“What for?” I frown. 

“You know, for what you said.” Her eyes stare into mine and I try to figure out what is it about this girl that’s making me nervous. “Most guys don’t even understand why some compliments make us feel uncomfortable.” 

I smile at her. I hope she knows she really is beautiful and I mean I can understand Mr Copper and had he said that any other way or had he not looked at her like he did right before, I wouldn’t have said anything and I’m sure she wouldn’t have felt uncomfortable but it was just inappropriate. 

“It’s true though.” 

I’m already a sucker for her smile. Thank God I am not going to see her again. 

“Do you have any questions for me?” 

“Mmm...” She bites her bottom lip. 

I’ve noticed she does that when she’s not sure of something. I like it. She has very beautiful lips too, so full and pink and moisturized. Look back into her eyes, Harry. 

“I’ve seen you scribbling like crazy.” I encourage her. 

I want her to ask me whatever it is that’s going through her mind. 

“No, well, I was describing his jugular.” 

I feel my dick as soon as she said that. So she noticed. She’s fucking smart and that’s a turn on. 

“So that I would remember what I saw, you know?” 

I nod. 

“Do I have to give you a mark or just sign your assistance?” 

“Just sign.” She shakes her head. 

“Shit. Well, you got an A anyway.” 

She grins excitedly and I want to ask her how old she is again but I turn around and open the next record. This is the last one left and it’s the first time since I started working I don’t want to finish visiting, but when we are done she’ll go and I’ll never see her again. 

I swear I’m trying not to feel attracted to her. I know it’s wrong but if I’m not going to see her again, I mean if she’s just going to leave now and I’ll never have to supervise her practice again, I could ask for her phone number, right? I mean I’m not a professor like Danny. It’s not technically prohibited. But she would feel pressured. I can’t do that. 

“Actually, Harry” her voice cracks a little and I want to look at her but I know she’s nervous so I don’t “I do have a question. Can I ask you something?” 

“Anything, Sorry.” 

“It... It has nothing to do with the practice, though.” 

“It doesn’t?” Now this is interesting. 

I finally turn my body towards her so that I’m facing her and encourage her to ask me. If she asks for my number I’ll give it to her, but I don’t think she will. 

“Mmm... Can I ask how old are you?” 

I don’t want to tell her and that’s when I notice all my attempts at trying not to be attracted to her have failed. Her skin is so soft and she smells so good, like sweet vanilla, I bet she tastes sweet too. Fuck, I’m doing it again and I’m looking at her breasts. Fuck me. 

“I’m 27.” 

She smiles and I don’t know what that means. I want to ask her but we need to call the last patient. 

“Miss Asvenson.” I smile. 

She nods and stands up from her chair but before she opens the door I ask her. 

“And you?” 

We look into each other’s eyes and I think we both know why we’re asking. She smiles. 

“21.” 

I nod. She’s legal everywhere in the world. 

[wolfye]

My Overwatch Ocs

Since I'll be making incorrect quotes with these guys soon, plus samples of dialogue between them and other characters, I figured I'd make a reference sheet for everyone.

Phoenix, AKA Amelia Fox

Age:19

Association:

Overwatch (Formerly, Honorary)

Role:Damage

Ability:

Gunfire- Phoenix is a sniper who uses a prototype of Ana’s old weapon. It is sleeker and improved, but can not heal.

Flight- Phoenix will be able to fly for five seconds, much like Echo

Fireblast- Phoenix sends a great ball of fire much like Sigma’s rock that does damage and stuns the opponent.

Glide- After using flight or being from a high place, Phoenix’s wings act like Mercy’s be gliding her down softly.

Ultimate Ability: Fireblast- Phoenix is temporarily able to fly and shoot fireballs from her hands. It resembles Echo’s ability. It takes them down to half their health.

Home City: Greece

Current Location: Greece

Appearance:

Phoenix has warm ivory, sunflower blonde hair, and arctic blue eyes. She is average height, light and nimble, and muscular. She has freckles on her face and arms, with her a little longer than her shoulders. Her face is light and airy, with smooth skin and a usually amused expression.

Personality:

Usually a bright and airy person, she tends to be on the glass half full side of things. She gets easily excitable on going on missions, as she enjoys helping people out. She is very protective of people she loves, and is very childish when she wants to be. Although childish and optimistic, when she steps onto the battlefield against Talon, her personality changes. She becomes more serious and focused, going into what others call “Battle mode”. She is also inventive and smart. She overall is a stubborn, loyal, sweet person who has a huge crush on Alpha.

Backstory:

Phoenix never really got a childhood. The Fox Family was extremely rich and prestigious, and she was one of four. She was put in pageants, event after event torturing her. All she really wanted to do was work on her inventions. She looked up to Mercy when she was younger, promising she would become just like her. When she came to Greece, she got to meet her hero. She promised she would join Overwatch and help her on the battlefield, to which she showed Mercy her plans to build wings like hers. Mercy gave her the motivation, and Phoenix began to work. She spent years perfecting it in the abandoned attic, ignoring her parents and siblings arguing. One day, when her brother came out as Trans Masculine, her parents went ballistic. Realizing it was not safe to stay there, they packed their stuff and left for the summer home in Greece. She spent most of her happy days there, and they began to live there peacefully. After being able to finally be able to be on the battlefield, Phoenix was severely injured. There she found a Talon member who helped bandage her up and left her near the dropship for help. They began to meet in secret, and eventually became best friends. Her name was Alpha, or Subject 1315. She eventually helped her escape Talon.

Alpha, AKA Kiera Wolfe

Age: 19

Association:

Talon (Formerly)

Role: Damage

Ability:

Dagger throw- Alpha’s main weapon is her throwing daggers, acting much like Genji’s shurikens. Only one is dispensed at a time, however.

Wall Climb- A passive ability that allows her to climb up walls like Hanzo with her claws.

Scratch- Alpha uses her claws to do 20 damage to the enemy. It does more if they are less than half health.

Dodge- Basically Mcrees roll

Ultimate Ability: Shewolf- Alpha becomes essentially a werewolf, much like Winston's ultimate. The difference is she changes shape, and her eyes turn yellow. It lasts for ten seconds, and does 75 damage per hit. It also restores her health.

Home City: Egypt

Current Location: Unknown

Appearance:

Alpha has porcelain skin with a dusty undercoat. She appears to have an extremely dark birthmark on her foot in the shape of a wolf paw. Although her grandmother is Egyptain and her mother had half Egyptain blood, she is white passing. Her eyes are cobalt blue with flecks of gold in them. She has short hickory colored hair that goes down to her shoulders. She is extremely thin and boney, and on the taller side. She is said to have a dark and stern expression, as well as bags under her eyes. Whether that's natural or from Talon, people don’t seem to know.

Personality:

Alpha is more on the strategic side of things. She is quite anxious and depressed, and would do anything for Phoenix. She is extremely loyal if you treat her right, which had almost never happened before Phoenix. She will always keep her promise if she can help it, and will try to make up with it. She is good with directions and a smart soldier. Perhaps even a bit too good for her liking. She is a lone wolf and quite sarcastic at times. She doesn’t seem to share emotions either, as she feel uncomfortable putting her problems on someone else.

Backstory:

Born and raised in Egypt until 17, Kiera Wolfe only had one person to rely on. Her sister, Ava Wolfe. Promising to one day get her away from their single mother who was manipulative and rude, she takes off to Kings Row. Friendship upon friendship ended as she realized people didn't care for omnics because they were different. Built up anger came out one night as she went to Graffiti a wall in town, only to be abducted and tested on my Talon. She became Test Subject 1315, or Test Subject Alpha. She was one of two who were experimented on and survived, turned into a super soldier. She climbed up the ranks, becoming what seemed like the perfect fighter. She was, until she met Phoenix. She was injured, ready to be killed with a single blow. Phoenix insisted that she could, and she would accept it. Alpha instead decided to healer her with a health pack, leaving her right by the dropship so her teammates could take care of her. They continued to meet in secret until Alpha was able to escape. Her whereabouts are unknown.

[seven-oomen]

Hi, Ben!  I hope your day is going well so far!  Are you still getting snow, or has the storm calmed a bit?  We’re supposed to be getting a potentially severe ice storm over the course of today.  There’s already a thin layer this morning, we’ll see how the rest of the day goes.  And temperatures are supposed to stay in about the -4 to -6C range the rest of the week.  I’m very glad that I’m off the next couple of days, and managed to get by the grocery last night after work.

I saw your post about writing and writing styles!  It was helpful because I’ve not really seen the different styles written out and explained before.  I’m still not 100% which I am, but probably either an intuitive plotter or a methodological pantser.  Usually there’s a scene or a line or two that I’m like “this needs to happen in this story” and everything else is fairly free-form.  I did try actually writing down an outline for IYWTD, but even then it’s more a list of beats/tropes and the order I want to include them in.  (And I’ve only just made it past halfway through, although a couple may need to be altered a bit, oh god, how did this get so long…)

It’s also always kinda of amusing to me how many of those writing advice lists are like “Don’t do this”, “Stop doing this”, “Never do that”, and then they’ll encourage you to find your own voice and style.  Like, bitch, you just told me not to ever do half the shit that makes up my style.  Which am I supposed to do?  Damn.  XD  (You will seriously pry adverbs and similar descriptors from my cold, dead, grasping hands.  Also the occasional epithet.  No, I’m not using a character’s name nine times in one paragraph, sorry, and pronouns don’t always help if the characters are the same gender.  The reader can deal. ;D )

And I feel ya on the tall, skinny, blue-eyed boys thing.  It doesn’t have to be just a white boy, but if he’s taller than me, slender, and has a pretty pair of baby blues, my higher brain functions tend to go into insta-lag.  I ain’t particularly proud, but I’ve long accepted this about myself (there are many reasons Luke became my forever BAE.)  That’s not to say a lack of any of those is a deal-breaker in the slightest, but it’s definitely going to immediately get my attention.

Speaking (vaguely) of Luke, I had a thought the other day of him and Din being off on some planet together (Grogu is staying with Aunt Leia and Uncle Han for a few days), and there’s a noise in the middle of the night, and Din refuses to accept Luke’s assurance that there’s nothing out there, and in true himbo fashion insists on going out to investigate having grabbed only the darksaber and his helmet to cover his face -but nothing else.  Luke just finds it a combo of hysterical and adorable (and kinda hot.)

I hope your novel is going well (whatever stage you happen to be at), and I’m always up for hearing whatever you feel like sharing about it.

I hope you’re still doing well with the whole eating and hydrating regularly thing (it’s also totally okay if you aren’t!), and I’m super proud of you for sticking to it as much as you can anyway.  That shit is hard.  (Also, ignore the 1500 calories thing, I swear that shit is designed for 130lb women trying to shed a few pounds, not people who need to safely and steadily lose larger amounts of weight.  But then I’ve also never fully understood making someone lose weight before surgery, either.  “We need you to get rid of some excess weight before we’ll okay this surgery to *checks notes* get rid of some excess weight."  Like, weird flex, but okay.)

Anyway, I’m rambling again, and should really eat some breakfast and try to write a little myself today, maybe.  Hope you’re feeling okay, and that things are going well overall.  I hope Mo is doing well, and enjoying his best cuddle buddy life.  Take care!  *Hugs!*

Okay, gonna try this this way so that I can refer back to the links on my phone if need be.  I couldn’t quite see the full entries for the physical descriptions, and when I tried clicking on them it kept asking for a login, but I think I saw enough to get the gist.  I’m not sure exactly what sort of feedback you’re interested in, if any, so this will mainly be my usual sort of rambling stream-of-consciousness type thoughts and questions.  Hope that’s okay.  Feel free to ignore if it’s not what you’re after right now!  :D

I think one of the first questions that popped to mind was where is/what happened to Ellie’s mom, and is that something that’s going to cause problems later in some way?  (I.e.- was she killed on a hunt, are they divorced, was it bitter or amicable [would she come after her daughter if she heard about his relationship?])  I guess technically similar questions could also apply to Nate (late husband, ex-husband, ex-boyfriend, one night stand, sperm donor?) it was just more noticeable with Ellie being so young still.  Although that could also be part of why he’s ended up in Wyoming, which was another question I had, although there I assume it’s hunt-related.

I also anticipate quite a bit of tension of all kinds when he and Nate first meet, because Faron strikes me from his descriptions as someone rather used to being able to get his own way either through the influence of who he is, or through his size (not necessarily in any kind of intentional or aggressive way, more in an unconscious privilege kind of way, if that makes sense?), and I don’t think Nate sounds like the type to give two shits about either of those things, and it would probably drive Faron up the proverbial wall that Nate isn’t intimidated by him in the slightest.  (I could be entirely wrong about all this, this is just the impression I get so far. :D )  And I think Nate being noticeably older than him would just make it that much more irritating at first, too.  Now, how long these impressions last will just depend on how quickly they get to know each other, and whether Bachelor #3 is helping or hindering things.  XD  The potential for just sitting back and watching the fireworks as “laid-back dad jokes with a quick temper” clashes with “quiet, reserved, and possibly takes themselves slightly too seriously” might prove too much for our last contestant for a while, depending on where his personality falls.  ;D  (Especially since Faron coming in and starting shit will likely come off as a direct threat to people and places Nate considers under his protection.)

Also, are any of these three going to have met before?  Will Nate already have some sort of relationship with the werewolf (Does he already know about the supernatural at all?)  Did he and Faron encounter each other on the trip to Europe you mentioned in the Life Highlights?  If he and the wolf already know each other, how does he get along with Cas, or Nate’s pets?  Is the werewolf also going to be native to the region?  Does he know anything about Faron’s family?  Does Faron already know he’s a werewolf, or is that going to be a bit of a crisis for him later?  A test of how well he’s learned not to judge?  If Nate doesn’t already know, how will he deal with both their secrets?  Do you plan for full-shift only wolves, partial-shift only wolves, or a mix of the two like TW?  Are there other supes in the area?

I think you mentioned maybe having him be of Native American descent?  I think that could be very interesting, but would require a LOT of research into which tribes are active in the Yellowstone area, and what their individual mythologies say about things like shapeshifters, and LGTBQ+ issues, etc., because there can be a fair amount of variance, I’m sure.  Also, I’m just overall curious how he’ll fit in with the other two size wise (get your mind out of the gutter, you know what I mean.  XD )  Also curious if any o them are going to have the slightest clue on the feelings front, or are they all going to be just absolute disasters?  Will the kids figure it out before they do?  Will the kids get along?  (Will BachelorWolf have any kids of his own, or just Nate and Faron?)  Will Nate’s coworkers have any clue about either the supernatural, or what’s going on with those three?  Because I suspect at least some of them will be way more obvious than they think they’re being.  XD

Uh… I think that was all that’s occured to me right now?…  I’m sorry you’re having a yucky day overall, and I hope tomorrow’s a bit better!  The ice storm has finally moved in here, and I can feel the temperature drop radiating off of the front door and windows.  It went from rain to freezing rain/hail and I’m not sure how long it’s supposed to last.  Hopefully only a little while.  Also, sorry your book was terrible.  I haven’t seen too many recent recommendations from friends, and I’ve been mostly reading “cozy” mysteries (Agatha Christie, Elizabeth Peters, etc) as my comfort reading myself, lately, so I can’t really suggest anything in particular, unfortunately.  At least, nothing I think you wouldn’t already know.  Anyway, hope you’re getting some decent rest, and hope you have a better day tomorrow!  Take care!  *Hugs!*

Alright since this is going to be like a very long one, I’m break it down into a few things.

First full physical descriptions, cause I didn’t know Milanote would be a bitch about it.

Nate:

164 cm (5'4), 75 kg (166 lbs), Short slightly overweight trans man in his middle age. Nearly always the shortest man in the room, only standing around 5'4 and weighing in around 166 lbs. With kind moss green eyes that have permanent crow's feet in their corners and a polite but reserved smile always on his face. 

A face that's framed by faint freckles that are only visible in the sunlight. A neatly trimmed beard spices up his features and frames his pink lips. His thick but short eyebrows frame his eyes and create a short arc to his slim nose. 

A high forehead separates his brows from his wavy dark blond hair that's always tucked behind his ears. 

He generally wears the Superintendents' Park Ranger uniform while on duty. When he's not he wears comfortable jeans and t-shirts, usually a mono color like green, white, or black, plaid flannel shirts, socks with the weirdest patterns and colors, and hiking boots. He wears a steel ring on his right index finger and has a little steel Mjolnir on a necklace around his neck.

He's missing two fingers (his ring and little finger) on his left hand due to a childhood accident.

Faron:

185 cm (6'1 ft), 93 kg (205 lbs), Faron is a tall man with plenty of muscle from his time hunting. He can seem daunting and intimidating when you first meet him but there is a kinder, softer side to him. He has a warm light brown skin color, blue eyes, and black natural tight curly hair that he keeps very short. His full dark beard decorates his cheeks and chin, connects to his upper lip, and all the way up to his sideburns.

  He tends to wear dark clothing, leather jackets, no jewelry that could identify him, jeans, henley shirts, or V-neck shirts, and black, brown, or red jackets. He usually wears black combat boots or dark brown hiking boots. He's got knives and other weapons hidden all over his body and pockets and it might take him a good few minutes to unload every single knife from his body when he was to disarm.

There are also scars all over his body, including some scars on his neck that are visible from day to day life. He had the bad luck of being struck down by a vicious Wendigo but managed to escape. He survived thanks to his sister's quick thinking and first aid.

He covers some of those scars up with tattoos; he has one tattoo of a dragon laying down on his shoulder, with its head on his chest and its body curling over his shoulder and ending just below his shoulder blades. And one tattoo covers up some scars on his lower arm, it's a tattoo of a wolf's head that covers up a bite mark.

Dichali:

He’s 37 and has 4 siblings, and two children, Kajika & Kaniya (Jika & Niya, identical twins, but one of them identifies as male, he’s trans. Kajika is his chosen/reassigned name. They are 10.) Dichali grew up in Riverton, WY, which is the largest town of 10,000 in the largest Native Reservation in Wyoming. He’s also a dear friend to our Nate (who is also his boss technically) and has slowly been falling in love with him for the last few years. (Although he still hasn’t realized that he loves his friend.) 

Yena, his coworker and friend, who’s much younger at 25 has been watching her coworker and her boss joke and dance around each other. She has a betting pool with her girlfriend on who snaps first.

Not sure how I’ll connect him to Faron if it’s more fun/better to have him find out later or to already know him and keep it quiet. 

I’m still working on him, so I don’t have much of personality and other things written down yet. But I have made his physical description:

At 178 cm (5'8) and 83 kilos (182 lbs) Dichali probably isn't the tallest man you've met, he's also not the shortest. And while he's got some good muscle on him from working as a Park Ranger, and being a werewolf, he also has some softer sides. All the better to cuddle with. He has long straight brown hair that falls to his mid-back and deep brown eyes and a long nose that ends prominently. His eyebrows are thin and he has a high forehead. His skin is a light Tawny color, there's a hint of an orange brown with a cool undertone.

His skin is also relatively clear and youthful looking because of his lycanthropy.

He tends to wear pants and jackets made by native designers and always incorporates native fashion into his outfits. He has jackets of mostly gray, blue, brown, and black colors made of denim, cotton, wool, or brass that are lined with more traditional cloths and patterns like the designer brand Ginew. Usually he pairs them with dark jeans, either black, gray, or dark blue. He pairs it with white, blue, red, black, or printed band t-shirts (Metallica, Green Day, Marianas Trench). 

For shoes he has brown hiking boots that are part of the Ranger uniform, more western styled boots like black cowboy boots, and a pair of sneakers.He also wears a copper bracelet with lighting bolts etched into it.

-

Now this whole story got started because I had the question what if we had a DILF romance going on while/because the following happened?

What if a YouTube video that accidentally got uploaded shows the existence of a werewolf in Yellowstone park? Threatening to expose the entire supernatural world.

The werewolves right now are a mix, so half shift is like the classical half shift of a wolf head on a man’s body, but the full shift is more like a larger wolf. Almost the size of a black bear. Though I might change those ideas as the story progresses.

But that is how the Cryptid of Yellowstone is brought into the world. And that brings problems. Big problems.

Wendigos, vampires, djins, I plan to create a world where a lot of supernatural creates exist. From all sorts of cultures. I’m also toying with the idea of Kelpies and Griffins. That kind of stuff.

The supernatural world is hidden from ours, hidden in plain sight if you will. Most encounters are written off as really strange, sometimes a picture pops up, but with the coming of the internet, things have gotten more complicated. Also with deforestation and competition with regular wildlife has made some bigger supernatural creatures either extinct or thought to be extinct. They’re not sure what still lives in Australia, though.

Nate or his son don’t know about the supernatural world. Neither does Yena. Or much of the world. Dichali, his children (to some extent), Faron, and Faron’s family do know about this world.

-

Alright, as for your other post XD

Right now it’s no longer storming but due to the freezing temperatures the snow’s not going away and all public transport and delivery services are still not driving/delivering/running. So that’s neat. Not. 

I swear we get some snow and the country is just down. Upside, ain’t nobody going outside and this helps with lockdown.

I hope your snowstorm won’t be too bad and everything thaws down soon. Snow’s fun for a day but after that...

Make sure you stay warm alright? And bundle up.

Yes dad... alright XD

Honestly, I’m glad to hear you liked my advice too. I’m getting quite a bit of positive feedback on it and that just makes me really happy ^^. I’m definitely writing more writing advice from everything I’ve learned so far.

There’s honestly so many contradicting ones out there, it’s a matter of picking and choosing which ones work best for you and applying those. And that’s the real trick of advice.

Fun fact, a lot of famous writers are also pantsers. Steven King, Neil Gaiman, George RR Martin are examples of famous pantsers or gardeners as they are also called. 

John Grisham, JK Rowling, RL Stein fall into the plotter or architect category. 

Writers like Hank Green seem to fall in the in-between category of plantser (somewhere between a plotter and a pantser. Or the Intuitive plotter.)

Okay but the DinLuke things is really really kinda hot and cute and adorable and has me smiling <3

And I can’t remember what else I wanted to say since it is like 2 am and my meds are seriously kicking in now.

But I hope you’re doing alright and that the snowstorm isn’t too bad where you’re at.

I’ll be alright, my diet hasn’t been going so well the last few days and I can’t really exercise, but I did mostly get healthy groceries that will be delivered friday so there’s that. 

Fingers crossed I can pick it back up.

Okay I’m heading to bed XD 

I’ll talk to you later, B <3 

Hugs from me and Mo <3

[sinnerburrito]

OTP MEME

Do they fight often? If so, what is their dynamic like?

Define: Fight. They argue a lot but nothing serious, usually Jeremy does his best to keep the situation under control and to lighten the mood, but both likes to piss each other off. What’s a bit of teasing between pals begin bros?

But it’s not always Sunny in Mojave, but you can count on one hand the times where they got near to rip each other’s head off.

Who is the most skeptical of the two?

The guy in glasses and labcoat who tends to cuss in Latin. Yep, that one. Arcade is a scholar and tends to find logic and reason behind ever situation. Jeremy is a dreamer who, by experience, saw and did things beyond comprehension, he tends to be more “open minded”

Who would be most likely to suggest a night of dancing?

Definitely Jeremy. He hates to stay put and do nothing,or do the same thing over and over again, he needs something to spicy up his day , a night out dancing is definitely his favorite way to wind out. Of course, the first person he invites to tag along is Arcade, and when he can’t join him? It’s ok,he goes by himself or invite someone else. He just want to have fun.

What would they do if the other was injured in battle?

Both of them are kind of cautious. Despite their best efforts to avoid damage, shit happens, small or not, Aracade makes his priority to take his injured companion far as possible from the fight to either patch him up or flee. Jeremy have a emergency stash of chems with him, and if something happens to anyone under his watch, he does not hesitate to use military grade Psycho to go apeshit, even knowing the side effects it has in him.

How do their fighting styles complement each other?

They do their best to avoid direct confrontation, Jeremy’s speciality is sneaking but he lacks the ability to plan ahead, there’s where Arcade come in. He does the strategy and Jeremy does the magic. And when this fail, Jeremy improvise while Arcade does the shooting cause he’s the one with a damn plasma pistol and some proper training.

Do they want children? Does it frighten them? How many do they want?

Ask this to them and your answer will be both of them chocking on their own saliva. Even knowing the impossibility of that happening under normal circumstances, you will be met with avoiding eyes, awkward silence and head scratches. But this doesn’t mean this thought hasn’t crossed their minds once or twice in the middle of the night. Jeremy definitely would me more open to the idea, but no matter his partner gender, he would go for adoption. He fears whatever is in his family blood would pass to his child, and also fear that because of it, he would be unable to care for them. It’s a bittersweet feeling for both of them.

What happened when they took them home to their families? If their families aren’t in the picture anymore, how do they feel about it?

Arcade is split between who he supposed to be and who we wants to be. Should he honor his family honor or follow his own path? He doesn’t know, and thinking about it just make it worse, he’s too caught up to even think about what his family would think of Jeremy.

Jeremy hasn’t seen his tribe in years, he doesn’t even know if is there someone left. It’s a lonely thought to imagine he might be the last one. He dread just to think of Arcade finding out or worse, to see with his own eyes where he came from. He is scared if Arcade meet his mother, he would notice the similarities between them, and realized what he is doomed to be and left to never return.

How does each person show affection towards the other?

Arcade is definitely the one to show he cares throught his worries. “have you eaten?”, “be careful out there”, “do you need something?” that’s his way to show he cares, at least in public. Also, he tends to roast his partner a little bit less. Just a bit, but enough to everyone around him notice. I don’t see him begin into PDA so it’s totally a different story behind closed doors, poor baby is touch starved, change my mind.

Jeremy is a hands on kinda of guy. Literally, with the people he cares he always have a hand on their shoulders, a pat on the back, a hug, a hair ruffle (just when the person is seated or otherwise he won’t reach it) you name it. But he respect boundaries, or tries to, sometimes he forgets and hug his companion after a victory. With Arcade he uses all his braincells to respect the man’s boundaries, but he can’t help. When he’s tired, his head fall on Arcade’s shoulders even for a brief moment, if he’s excited he grabs the doctor’s arm. It just happens.

Who cries the most? Who is better at comforting?

Guess who has +67.54% to cry listening a sad/happy story or just because Rex and Ede-E where begin cute? That’s Jeremy for you. He’s not a cry baby, but his emotions are stonger than him. This doesn’t mean he knows how to be comforting. Usually he encourages you feel whatever you’re feeling (rage, sadness, loneliness) and them let it go. He’ll be there while, and when, you’re done.

I can see Arcade crying on extreme situations, usually a bad situation. So if he cries, you better run, cause or he’s furious or he’ll be when he’s done crying and realize he left a witness. He says he’s not a people person and how he lacks bedside manners, so he would be the guy to pat your back while you cry.

Who is the bigger flirt?

Guess who make a Doctor left his job without further notice just with a smile and sweetened words?

Arcade left Fort Mormont so fast and for so long everyone thought he was dead already. I’m not saying Arcade is sexy as potato, But when Arcade flirts get your heart ready baby.

Betweens 100 words Jeremy says in a conversation, 75 is flirting. Most of them are meanless, but it’s the best way to get out of trouble or to get better prices.

[coeurvrai]

Last we left off, Nadya passed out for the billionth time after escaping from the room where she was imprisoned and was found by Malachiasz. This time, Nadya wakes up bandaged in a room at the top of Pelageya’s tower.

Pelageya tells Nadya that she knows who she and Malachiasz really are and is aware of her status as a Cleric, because “this palace has been without any blessing of the divine for so long that you were practically shining when you stepped inside.”

“Though,” she considered, tugging at a spiral curl, “he’s not your king. Not mine, either. He’s not even sterevyani bolen’s king, now, is he? Is it treason if we all here swear to different crowns? Except…” Her gaze narrowed on Malachiasz. “You can’t really swear to your own crown, now can you?”

“Careful…” he murmured. He flexed his hand over the arm of his chair, nails flashing iron in the dim candlelight.

Shut the fuck up, Malachiasz. Also @jefflion​ already told me this particular spoiler, that Malachiasz is actually the Queen’s illegitimate child, so I’m both annoyed but also it kind of makes sense? Because either way, Malachiasz wants the crown and sees the crown as his.

Pelageya explains that a certain Vulture rose up the ranks and found out a way to attain godhood, so he told the King in a way to strengthen the relationship between the court and the Vultures; because the previous “Vulture queen” was ruining the sect and the Black Vulture wanted equal power. And so King Izak wanted to perform the ceremony, to give him the power he desperately craved.

“The Vulture disappeared. Poof! There one night, gone the next, leaving his cult to scramble in his absence. Because the Vultures need direction, they need their Black Vulture to lead them, and he had vanished.”

Nadya was listening at a distance, refusing to let the witch’s words catch up to her, to connect all that she was hearing, but she knew, she knew. Would that it had been so simple, that Malachiasz were just a Vulture recruit who got scared and fled. The world was falling out from underneath her and she had no anchor, she had nothing, because nothing was even real.

AND NADYA PUTS TWO AND TWO TOGETHER.

Look, I’ve been 99% sure from the start because that’s what happens when you advertise your book as a villain romance and also say it’s for Alina/Darkling shippers. The plot twist isn’t really a plot twist.

It was Malachiasz. It had always been Malachiasz. The leader of the cult, the one who had spun all of this into motion, the one who had smiled and charmed his way into Nadya’s trust because he could do terrible things with her power if he had access to it. She wouldn’t be sitting here with bandages covering her body if not for Malachiasz.

Look, you didn’t have to listen to him. You didn’t even have to go with him and Rashid and Parijahan to that church, because you had no reason to trust him or believe their plans or to even stick around to hear their plans. You, by all rights, shouldn’t had no actual reason to have been in that situation in the first place.

It’d be more believable if the book had gone along that Nadya was naive and unbelievably sheltered and that had a great effect on her nature and how she interacted with people.

But we literally threw away any semblance of that out of the window by Chapter 2 to double down that Nadya is Independent and Capable and Can Make Her Own Decisions and her upbringing at the monastery and especially as a Cleric has no greater effect on her perception of the world and her social skills.

Also you still haven’t found out what he did with your blood that one time!!!

“But he fled?” Nadya asked. If she pretended the one they were speaking of wasn’t sitting in front of them, listening in calm contemplation, maybe that would make this easier.

“He did,” Pelageya said. “But he came back. Do you think that is coincidence? That this clever boy and his clever magic have returned now?”

“Malachiasz?” Nadya said, her voice smaller than she would have liked, weaker. She willed him to look at her.

He looked different, sitting in the witch’s chair in a way that made it seem almost a throne. His black hair parted far on the right side, falling over his shoulder in inky waves, his pale eyes cold and blank. Less a boy, more a monster. Was that all he was? The silly boy who smiled too much and felt too deeply just a mask for the monster underneath?

Had she fallen for his lies exactly as he wanted her to?

I am going to scream.

You literally have called him a fucking monster and an Abomination and a Heretic ALL of the time, just to remind us that, yes, you still consider him an Enemy even though your hatred is paper thin and not at all believable even though your hatred for Tranavia and Vultures especially is supposed to be Important to your character.

But yes, you did.

He finally met her gaze, eyes softening, growing familiar. “It’s all right, towy dżimyka,” he said, voice soft.

It wasn’t. Not at all.

Pelageya laughed. “Is that supposed to make her feel better?” She stood up, walking around Malachiasz’s chair. “Is that supposed to earn her trust again?” She hooked a finger underneath his chin, forcing his gaze up to hers. She looked young. Nadya didn’t know when the shift had happened but knew the witch was a force of nature. A magic just as old and dangerous as either of them possessed, made worse by the wisdom of her years. “What have you done, Chelvyanik Sterevyani?” she whispered. “What will you still do? I don’t think love is such a force that it will stop you. I’m not sure you’re even capable of it.”

Okay, words are just getting thrown around now.

Also, bullshit! It’s not even something close to love. It’s more lust and attraction than anything else. They barely know each other! So of course love isn’t going to be able to stop him because there isn’t love between him and Nadya, because there hasn’t been time for love to develop between them.

Also this isn’t an enemies-to-lovers dynamic. I know I’ve said that before, but I want to just say it again. This isn’t enemies-to-lovers.

Nadya starts to have a moment, blaming herself and then saying that maybe he had changed, maybe they had changed him, maybe Pelageya is just trying to make trouble.

“I just want to end what I started,” Malachiasz finally said.

Ah yes, with a king dead at your feet and a crown sitting on your head.

Pelageya carries on, throwing around more words:  

“But, this isn’t just about you, Veshyen Yaliknevo. Chelvyanik Sterevyani. Sterevyani bolen.” She sat down on the arm of his chair and he shifted to the opposite side, as far from her as he could possibly get. “This is about the little scrap of divinity you’ve drawn to the depths of Tranavia.”

Nadya lifted her chin. She wasn’t going to let them see she was falling apart.

“She followed you a long, long way from home. What did you tell her to make her come so far without putting a blade in your back?”

Nothing too difficult, really. Just that they had a plan to assassinate the Tranavian King and for some reason, Nadya just went along with honestly without that much fuss, because y’know, the plot demanded it.

Also, as much as I find Pelageya amusing and intriguing, the way she’s being all touchy-touchy with Malachiasz, who is still a teenager, slightly uncomfortable.

“... Now that you point it out she does have the look of a girl who goes for—” She leaned over and tipped Malachiasz’s head back again, baring his throat. His fist clenched over the arm of the chair, nails now just long enough to be visible claws. “—sensitive flesh.”

Like, could you not? We get that Pelageya is creepy and strange already, Emily Duncan, you established that in a Serefin chapter with the prophecy thing.

“I never told her anything that wasn’t true,” he said, voice carefully restrained.

Lie by omission is still a lie, mate. What you omitted was pretty important. I mean, it was obvious and I already knew it, but still.

Pelageya still keeps creepily touching Malachiasz and Malachiasz keeps trying to find excuses for everything, insisting that they’re going to end the war. 

“Why are you here, Malachiasz?”

“I have told you. My reasoning hasn’t changed just because you know what I am now. I want to save my country. I’m one of the few people who can; surely you understand that.”

He was giving her nothing, less than nothing.

“I don’t believe you,” she said softly.

That’s one of the smartest things Nadya has ever said, and that’s saying something.

Nadya, who didn’t know how to hold herself together after this. Nadya, who couldn’t pull her gaze away from Malachiasz, unable to reconcile that the boy she had traded jokes with, that she had kissed, was a symbol of Tranavian heresy. A monster greater than all others.

I- you literally knew that he was a Vulture. That made him “heretical” as is. You knew he was powerful, you literally he was more powerful than Serefin! You called him a monster.

I know, objectively, that this is supposed to be a betrayal for you but you can’t just act like you haven’t been calling him all these things for 75% of the book!

She thought she knew what she was doing, coming here, but now she was in a foreign country, surrounded by her enemies, and the one she had anchored her safety to had been lying to her from the start.

Because the plot demanded that you trust him and go along with their plan even though you had no real reason to.

Pelageya tells her that the entity connected to the necklace that Kostya gave to her is called Velyos, a former member of the Pantheon. That the reason she is cut off from the gods currently is because King Izak is strengthening that “veil” of blood magic that hangs over the capital. 

“There is your magic, which is good, of course. And then their magic. Blood magic. Heresy.”

“It’s just magic,” Malachiasz said.

Still haven’t explained why Marzenya just can’t fuck shit up when magic is one of her domains, plain and simple. And yes, you can argue “the veil” but the veil is still made from magic. It still hasn’t explained why blood magic is so different and untouchable when blood magic is still, at its core, magic.

Pelageya tells Nadya that a witch is just someone with magic of their own, not beholden to the gods. Nadya balks at the thought. Pelageya taunts them both, stating that Malachiasz doesn’t have the power of Vultures that he once did.

The witch had said it to sow more discord, but if he didn’t have full control of the Vultures, maybe that meant he actually was helping them? She shouldn’t give in to hope. She hated that she was so damn hopeful.

I’m rolling my eyes, because Nadya is being predictable at this point and I have no hope for any character consistency besides the fact that it's inconsistent.

A sudden insistent knock on the door made all three of them pause. Then a voice, terrifyingly familiar, came from outside.

“Pelageya? I need to speak with you.”

Of course it would be the prince.

And that’s the end of Chapter 26! YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS!

[fictionadventurer]

OC asks: Sarah: 97-100; Lionel: 93-96; Jack: 89-92; Eliza: 85-88; Daniela: 79, 82-84; Alessando: 75-78; Floriano: 70-72, 74; Lucia: 66-69; Marata: 62-65; Jarrock: 58-61 ("crowed" meaning "crowded" presumably); Bastian Diriks: 54-57; Lady Diriks: 50-53; Lorenz Fortuin: 46-49; Anya: 42-45

Alright, here we go.

Sarah

97. Where do they live? Who do they live with?

She lives in an old house near the university. She technically has her own apartment (later gets Eliza as a roommate), but Lionel and Jack share a larger apartment downstairs and she’s basically allowed to come in and out as if it were hers.

98. How do they calm themselves down?

Go on long walks, rant to someone (or no one) and/or furiously write down everything she thinks about what’s bothering her.

99. Are they co-dependent?

She’d bristle at the suggestion that she’s anything less than entirely independent, but she relies heavily on Lionel.

100. Are they a day, or night person?

Mostly a day person, except for the occasional late-night intense writing/studying session.

Lionel

93. How do they deal with stress?

Ignore it and hope someone else figures out how to handle it. And play the piano a lot.

94. Do they have a more submissive or dominate personality type?

In a house with Sarah and Jack, almost anyone would be submissive by comparison, but even by normal standards, he’s a person who prefers to step back and let other people handle the problems in life.

95. Do they have a pet?

He had a bird for a few days until Sarah objected. He didn’t put up too much of a fight because he was starting to find it distracting.

96. Do they have a stash of weapons?

Nope. He wouldn’t have the first clue what to do with a weapon if you gave him one.

Jack

89. Can they remember a lot of information at once?

Yes. He remembers everything and it drives Sarah nuts. (Especially since the only things he can’t remember are when he needs to pay his portion of the rent or clean his part of the apartment).

90. What is their occupation?

Right now, a student of languages (which ones depends on the world I build around him).

91. Do other characters respect your OC, if so, is it out of fear? Or do they respect your OC because they like them?

Lots of people like him. Plenty of people are even impressed by him.  Few truly respect him. (Jack is not among those chosen few).

92. If they were given minutes to live, what would they do? Who would they want to see and say?

He’d try to figure out a way to get out of whatever situation leaves him with only minutes to live.

Eliza

85. Are they self motivated?

Extremely. Once she decides to accomplish something, there is nothing that will keep her from doing it.

86. How do they cope with anger?

Stabbing things. She tried taking up embroidery once to serve this purpose, but the holes were too tiny to provide a satisfying level of destruction. Now, she usually just takes a pen and goes to town on a poor innocent sheet of paper (and the desk/table beneath it) until her temper is satisfied.

On a less destructive level, she’ll step back and figure out a plan to overcome whatever’s making her angry.

87. Have they ever been in a situation where they were helpless?

She does not believe in being helpless. There’s always something that can be done, even if the something is impossible to accomplish by any normal standards.

88. Are they organized or messy?

Very organized about projects and plans. Slightly messy when it comes to organizing her living space. Very messy about tending her hair.

Daniela

79. Is there someone in their life that they care about more than themselves?

She cares a lot about her father.

82. Are they good at mental math?

She’s decent. She can usually compute basic math with a little bit of thought. If it gets too complicated she needs pen and paper.

83. Do they get along with others?

Yes. She makes a point of being pleasant, not standing out, and not offending people.

84  Are they lazy?

Not usually. A very solid work ethic, but some days you just need to relax.

Alessandro

75. What is their biggest fear?

Being useless.

76. What are their goals?

Keeping the kingdom from falling apart. (Though this is a hard question to answer when I still haven’t figured out the exact political situation in the revised imagining of the story).

77. How do they go about achieving their goals?

Advising Floriano from afar.

78. Do they have a fight or flight response?

If there’s any flight involved, it’s a strategic retreat so he can figure out the best way to fight.

Floriano

70. Do they like themselves?

Before he was crowned, yes. After he was crowned, it seemed like his every trait and tendency was something that made being king that much harder.

71. Who do they dislike?

People who disrespect Alessandro or their late father.

72. What is their motto?

Never give anyone reason to hate you. (This motto has been very difficult to live up to after being crowned).

74. Have they ever been abused?

After he becomes king, he deals with a lot of verbal abuse (behind his back, but done in ways that it’s impossible for him not to find out about it).

Lucia

66. What is their pet peeve(s)?

When people wear clashing colors. It drives her nuts and she can’t look away. 

67. Do they have a disability?

Not officially. Sometimes has trouble concentrating, but not to the level of disability.

68. How do they react to getting flowers?

She will spend the entire day making sure everyone sees her flowers and appreciates her flowers and knows how much she loves her flowers.

69. Would they ever wear a flower crown?

The problem would be getting to to take off the flower crown.

Mirata

62. How do they relax?

Sing. Swim. Pray. All things, unfortunately, that she’s not allowed to do openly on land.

63. Have they ever harmed anyone and regretted it? Verbally or physically?

She’s got a quick temper and a sharp tongue that get her in trouble frequently, and she almost always regrets it after a day or two.

64. Do they like to dance?

She loves it. Unfortunately, her style of dancing is also one of those things the land-dwellers frown upon.

65. How do they get around their environment? Examples - horses, bike, vehicle

She’s used to getting around by swimming or boating. On land, she will always choose walking over any form of transportation that involves horses.

Jarrock

58. How would they come across to other characters? Examples- messy, lazy, childish, caring etc.

He seems like the serious, dutiful son; an impressive soldier who’d never step out of line or have a thought or emotion of his own. Unless you happen to witness one of his bursts of temper that reveal his very passionate underlying emotions.

59. Do they have a phrase they use over and over?

Not really. (That’s the kind of thing that I’d have to figure out over the course of writing the story).

60. In a crowded room are they in the corners, sides, or in the middle?

On the sides, present and watching carefully, but not getting too deeply involved.

61. Are they comfortable being in a crowded room?

No. He’ll stay for just as long as he’s required and he’ll leave the second he’s able.

Bastian Diriks

54. How do they cope with sadness?

Find something to distract himself--before, it was working with stars, now it’s listening to music. It also helps to find someone who’s having a worse day than him and try to help them out.

55. What is something they care about?

Loves working with the stars. Loves the family business. Continues to care about both even after the stars took his sight and the family kicked him out of the business side of things.

56. Would they die for anyone/anything?

He’d die for his family. Half of his family would prefer it if he would.

57. What do they do when they are happy?

He can get, like, obnoxiously cheerful. Drives people nuts.

Lady Diriks

50.Do they enjoy the arts?

She’s a leading patroness of the arts, so yes.

51. Do they like science?

She likes being thought of as someone who likes science (because that’s almost as fashionable as supporting the arts) but she doesn’t really understand it, so she learns just enough to nod along and seem knowledgeable when someone else is talking about it.

52. Are they more emotional or logical?

She’d says she’s entirely logical, but there’s more emotion driving her than she realizes.

53. How do they deal with their emotions?

Bottle it up. Deny it ever existed. Then take it out on the people around her.

Lorenz Fortuin

46. When is their birthday?

Not a clue. I’m not 100% sure they even use Earth’s calendar (they probably do). The most I’ll commit to at this point is that his birthday is probably in the winter.

47. Are they quick to judge?

He’s very quick to latch onto his first impressions of people as being the correct ones, and it can skew his judgement, but he’s willing to change his mind if given enough contrary evidence.

48. Do they have anything they are trying to hide from others?

He’s always trying to hide his lower-class origins.

49. Do they act different around different people?

All the time. He’s a very different person when he’s hanging with the upper crust than when he’s only with fellow artists or people of lower classes.

Anya

42. Are they close with anyone who is going to screw them over?

How did you know this was the whole point of the story? (Okay, he doesn’t quite turn against her, but it’s a close thing at some points.)

43.How do they adapt to different situations? Do they adapt at all?

She’s pretty good at going with the flow--being observant, staying quiet when she’s not sure what the right response is. But when she comes up with a plan of action, she acts upon it, and doesn’t always think through the consequences.

44. How do they speak? Examples - Are they soft spoken, hot heated, vulgar

Has a strong lower-class accent marring an otherwise pleasant alto voice. Very strident voice when she has strong emotions.

45. Are they opposed to violence?

When it’s directed against her, yes. When she needs to defend herself or her people? Absolutely not.

[chiseler]

Gail Patrick: Malice Aforethought

The ultimate in resting bitch face, Gail Patrick could do more with a slight malicious smile than most actors could with the nastiest lines of dialogue. She was always sizing people up on screen, looking at them as if she could spot every weakness in their character and every humiliation they had ever suffered. Patrick knew instantly where she could stick all her knives, but the funny thing about her is that she seemed too basically cool and sedentary to really do too much damage, like a cat who stretches out and just scratches a canary before going back to sleep in the sun.

A brainy Southern girl, Patrick was born Margaret LaVelle Fitzpatrick in Birmingham, Alabama, in 1911. She graduated from Howard College and did two years of law school at the University of Alabama, saying later that she thought about running for state governor. But in 1932, for what she termed “a lark,” Patrick entered a Paramount Pictures beauty and talent contest and got the fare to Hollywood. The winner of the contest would get to be the “Panther Woman” in the Universal picture Island of Lost Souls (1932), starring Charles Laughton, and surely Patrick would have put a scare into both Laughton and co-star Bela Lugosi, but she didn’t get that part, which went to Kathleen Burke. (“It kind of ruined a career for her because nobody would take her seriously after that,” Patrick offered.)

She was presented with a standard studio contract by Paramount, but the strong-minded Patrick wouldn’t sign until her salary was raised from $50 to $75 a week and part of the contract was taken out. “I also read the fine print and blacked out the clause saying I had to do cheesecake stills,” Patrick said. “In the back of my mind I had this idea I could never go home and practice law if such stills were floating around.” She was groomed and coached until she lost her Southern accent, and then Patrick was ready to steal any scene she was in.

She made her first impact in Mitchell Leisen’s Death Takes a Holiday (1934), where she was filmed in stylish gowns and wore blond hair. Patrick is a distinct screen presence because she cannot help that “bitch” quality of hers from rising to the surface, no matter how hard she smiles or how hard she tries to be appealing in Death Takes a Holiday (much like such sisters in 1930s movie bitchery as Verree Teasdale and Genevieve Tobin). There is always something strained in her attempts at good spirits, as if she were a wicked stepsister just waiting to make some vicious remark about everyone in the cast. “I really put my all into that one,” she said. “It gave me a big career boost.”

She was a rival to Joan Crawford in No More Ladies (1935), which showed that Patrick was ready to rattle the most intimidating figures, taking in Crawford as if she can see the former chorus girl in her from a mile away. She drunkenly confesses to a dalliance with Crawford’s husband Robert Montgomery in a manner that tries for rumpled girlish candor but inevitably reads, as always with Patrick, as sheer malice. “I was hired because I towered over Joan,” she said. “She didn’t get temperamental—she simply expected blind obedience from cast and crew.”

Patrick coolly observed the “nasty” fights on the set of Mississippi (1935) between Bing Crosby and W.C. Fields and did her time in programmers before coming to the part that really set her up, Cornelia Bullock, the big bad sister to Carole Lombard’s daffy socialite Irene in My Man Godfrey (1936). Cornelia is the rich bitch incarnate, flaunting her privilege and power like a spoiled child, but with a wide streak of womanly sadism to make many of her scenes deeply unpleasant. Yet Patrick said that she was so afraid of the camera and nervous that she never saw her own films until she showed a friend My Man Godfrey in 1979. “My fright emerged as haughtiness and I can see where I got my image as a snob, a meanie,” she said. “And it’s the movie that typed me and the one I’m still asked about.”

Gregory La Cava, the director of My Man Godfrey, told Patrick to “suck on lemons and beat up little children” to prepare for her role, and maybe she was just a skeptical, smart girl scared of being in the movies, but that’s finally a little hard to believe. You don’t play Cornelia Bullock in the scathing way Patrick does without at least knowing something about inherent meanness and it uses and effects. Then again, fear has often been known to make people behave badly, and shyness can be seen as unfriendliness. “She had to be bratty, mean, demanding, and no winks to show I wasn’t really like that,” Patrick said of Cornelia.

She followed up Cornelia with her finest bitch performance of all, Linda Shaw, erstwhile roommate to Ginger Rogers’s Jean Maitland in La Cava’s great Stage Door (1937), where she engages in wisecracking duels with Rogers so brutal that it comes as no surprise when Rogers’s Jean ends one of them with the line, “Well, so long, if you ever need a good pallbearer, remember I’m at your service.” Patrick enjoyed working with Rogers in Stage Door because she said they could try scenes different ways, whereas she sniped that with the “Great Kate” Hepburn every scene was done the same way. “She never took direction and always walked around with that haughty air,” Patrick said of Hepburn. “Ginge was everything Great Kate wasn’t. The crews loved her and hated Kate for the airs she put on.”

Patrick was only 26 when she made Stage Door, but she reads as a lot older and more experienced, and so it’s believable when Rogers, who was the same age as Patrick, seems to have youth and freshness on her side as she diffidently snags jaded Linda’s man, the theatrical producer Anthony Powell (Adolphe Menjou). Patrick goes as far with verbal bitchery as it is possible to go in Stage Door, and her snobbery is at its most cutting and armored, too, and yet there are a few moments here when we can see that Linda is just as subject to the vagaries of men and show business as the other girls at the theatrical boarding house she lives at. Linda has a freezing sort of dignity when she realizes that Jean is replacing her with Powell, for the time being, and she has the confidence and lack of illusions that can wait to get him back. This has nothing to do with lack of pride, for Linda has plenty of that where it counts, and then some. It has to do with understanding how the world works and how unfair it can be without ever feeling sorry for yourself.

There’s a brief scene in Stage Door where Patrick relaxes a little for once as Judy (Lucille Ball) talks about the moment when she first wanted to go into show business. Patrick smiles almost easily here, as if her guard is just slightly down briefly, and the effect is touching because there is no other moment on screen when she opens up just a little bit for us. In the end, Linda gets Powell back, and she probably has the guts to keep him until another new blond comes along, and when that game is all finished at least she’ll have the fur coats he bought her to keep her warm on the cold nights ahead. Whatever happens to her, Linda will be all right because she takes nothing seriously and never gets her emotions, if she has any left, involved. That’s one way of getting through life.

Patrick’s most notable role after that was as Cary Grant’s wife Bianca in My Favorite Wife (1940), where the frustration of “the other woman” does not really suit her brand of steely control backed up by a witchy talent for insults and vindictiveness. By the time of Claudia and David (1946), Patrick could see the writing on the wall. “One day, we were sitting around the set and dear, sweet Dorothy McGuire started chattering about her great pleasure in working with such veterans,” Patrick said. “Well, I was seven years her senior, and Mary Astor was only 40 at the time. Mary bristled, but I just kept on with my knitting.”

Patrick, who married four times, had a successful second career as a television producer, where as Gail Patrick Jackson (the last name of her third husband), she put her law background to use as executive producer on the Perry Mason series, which starred Raymond Burr and lasted from 1957-1966. She let her hair go white and was still a handsome and stylish figure around town in this period. Patrick died in 1980 at age 69 in her home in Hollywood, in the arms of her fourth husband. Whenever she turns up in a movie, I think of that old saying, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, come sit next to me.”

by Dan Callahan

[petalsbloomed-a]

VERY LONG  CHARACTER  SURVEY !! RULES.  repost ,   don’t  reblog  !    tag  10  ! good  luck  ! TAGGED.  stolen !!! TAGGING. anyone who wants to do this tbh cuz this is long as shit and i dont want anyone to do this who might not be able to aljdhfskjdhkj

BASICS. FULL  NAME : galo thymos NICKNAME : himbo, idiot, rookie, newbie, #1 firefighting idiot AGE : 21 BIRTHDAY : june 30 ETHNIC  GROUP : japanese (+ korean / western european) NATIONALITY : american LANGUAGE / S : english / japanese / studied french and spanish SEXUAL  ORIENTATION : demisexual ROMANTIC  ORIENTATION : biromantic RELATIONSHIP  STATUS : single HOME  TOWN / AREA : promeopolis (i envision this being around nyc / tri-state area) CURRENT  HOME : lives with older sister and niece PROFESSION : firefighter, undergraduate student

PHYSICAL. SKIN : pretty fair tan, but he sometimes appears a little darker than usual. his skin does a strange thing where it changes shade in different lighting. his skin is usually smooth, but right after getting finished with work, he sometimes is covered in dust and appears somewhat dried out. EYES : slightly upturned, deep-set, wide and somewhat of an almond shape. irises are usually very round, and are a bluish-cyan color. pupils often alight with mischief. in intense lighting, you can see a little red dot reflecting off his eyes. LIPS : pretty thin and nude, hard to notice. matches his skin tone very well. usually quite smooth. tends to get chapped after working. COMPLEXION : pretty fair, but in different lighting, he can look a lot tanner than what he really is. BLEMISHES : he has a few moles here and there, but overall his skin is fairly clear and clean. he doesn’t suffer from acne nearly as much as he did when he was in grade school. SCARS : he has some tiny, barely noticeable acne scars on his face, chin, and neck. the most noticeable ones are on his left arm from when he was practically set alight by a burnish flame. these are thick and quote coarse, and can cause some discomfort when touched. he also has a very small nick in his left ear, which was how his sister identified him when he found her after being separated from their family after the burnish incident when he was a kid. TATTOOS : an arrow that goes right below the nape of his neck to the middle of his back. the point is at about the small of his back, and there are a few decorations along the arrow. HEIGHT : 6′0, 183 cm WEIGHT : 165 lbs, ~75 kg BUILD : very muscular, quite athletic. very beefy arms, strong chest, well-built abdominals. however, his thighs and waist are pretty thin and trim. FEATURES : his most distinct features are his dramatic haircut and scars on his left arm, as well as the small white line on the outer helix of his left ear. his chest and shoulders are also quite broad in comparison to his rather thin waist. ALLERGIES : slight peanut allergy, dust, pollen. USUAL  HAIR  STYLE : undercut with a dramatic, spiky blue mohawk. USUAL  FACE  LOOK : mischievous smile or smirk; sometimes looks a bit wistful, like he’s thinking about something. USUAL  CLOTHING : is normally shirtless, wearing thick red firefighter pants with a yellow “3.” most often wears black rubber boots, black gloves, ear lobe piercings, and an industrial piercing. sometimes wears a black tee-shirt.

PSYCHOLOGY. FEAR / S : spiders, bugs, needles, being in love (kind of), losing his sister or niece, finding out his parents are dead. ASPIRATION / S : to continue his firefighting career, to receive a masters in emergency medical technology / fire prevention & safety technology. POSITIVE  TRAITS : brave, caring, friendly, modest. NEGATIVE  TRAITS : daring, reckless, sensitive, over-attachment. MBTI : entertainer (ESFP-A) ZODIAC : cancer TEMPEREMENT : choleric / sanguine SOUL  TYPE / S : performer ANIMALS : zebra VICE  HABIT / S : twiddling thumbs, jiggling leg (usually the right), twirling & playing with hair, biting nails, chewing lips, swearing, sighing, pen clicking. FAITH : none; would consider himself agnostic. GHOSTS ? : yes. AFTERLIFE ? : not sure. REINCARNATION ? : not sure, but leaning towards no. ALIENS ? : yes. POLITICAL  ALIGNMENT : independent, opinions slightly more left-leaning EDUCATION  LEVEL : graduate student

FAMILY. FATHER : nikanor thymos MOTHER : agape thymos SIBLINGS : danai thymos (older sister) EXTENDED  FAMILY : james (ex-brother-in-law), aria (niece) NAME  MEANING / S : his first name is of an unknown meaning, but it could mean “from gaul” in greek. his last name comes from the greek word “thumos”, which means “spiritedness” or “the need of recognition.” HISTORICAL  CONNECTION ? : not that we know of, i think ???

FAVORITES. BOOK : harry potter / hunger games MOVIE : the lion king 5  SONGS : rick astley - never gonna give you up, lady gaga - born this way, beyonce - countdown, ariana grande - god is a woman, pitbull - timber (feat. kesha) DEITY : zeus HOLIDAY : christmas MONTH : july SEASON : summer PLACE : his bedroom / the lounge at work WEATHER : partly cloudy SOUND : meditation sounds SCENT / S : coffee, flowers, fresh baked desserts, fresh pizza, light cologne TASTE / S : coffee, vanilla cake, milk chocolate, parmesan cheese, green tea anything tbh FEEL / S : soft blankets, comfy pillows, loose-fitting clothes ANIMAL / S : dogs NUMBER : 13 COLORS : teal blue / flame red

EXTRA. TALENTS : piano, singing, writing, linguistics, thinking quickly, firefighting BAD  AT : drawing (sort of), getting himself organized, following orders (sometimes) TURN  ONS : kindness, sensitivity, acceptance, openness, agreeableness TURN  OFFS : irresponsibility, lack of free time, ignorance HOBBIES : piano, singing, writing (stories, poems, etc), karate TROPES : ambiguously gay, antiquated linguistics, broken tears, calling your attacks, the chosen one, firemen are hot, going commando, hunk, idiot hero, innocently insensitive, large ham, mr. fanservice, oblivious to love, the protagonist, rookie red ranger, scars are forever, shonen hair, you gotta have blue hair (found here, there’s a lot more actually) QUOTES : “medals are made to be awarded to and from people who deserve them.” / “you can’t just kill for no reason!” / “[i’m] the universe’s #1 firefighting idiot!”

MUN QUESTIONS. Q1 :   if  you  could  write  your  character  your  way  in  their  own  movie ,   what  would  it  be  called ,  what  style  would  it  be  filmed  in ,  and  what  would  it  be  about ? A1 : honestly??? i think i would keep it the way it is, BUT i would like to have seen some more canonical information about galo’s family. as of right now, we know that kray saved him after his family was attacked by the burnish. if i were to direct a new movie about galo, i would focus it mainly on his family. Q2 : what  would  their  soundtrack / score  sound  like ? A2 : i think it would be a mix of melancholic music as well as more upbeat stuff. on my blog’s main page there are links in the sidebar to both a soundtrack playlist as well as a pop music playlist; i definitely think it’s fair that a variety of genres would suit him and his experiences. Q3 : why  did  you  start  writing  this  character ? A3 : when i first watched promare, i was instantly drawn to this buffoon himbo. i’ve always had a thing for upbeat, energetic characters who are also quite caring and a bit dumb (which yes galo is very smart but he has his moments). while their personalities differ greatly (despite having the same personality type), he reminds me a lot of lance from vld, who i absolutely adore as well (and i also rp him too oops) Q4 : what  first  attracted  you  to  this  character ? A4 : again, probably his personality. while i’m not as energetic and upbeat as galo and i have a very, very different personality type than him, i feel like i definitely do understand him. i understand why he feels he needs to be overly confident, and i also have my moments where i just need to storm off and be alone. god i could write paragraphs and paragraphs about why i like galo but i wanna keep it short and sweet and just stick with those two points, which i consider to be the biggest points. Q5 : describe  the  biggest  thing  you  dislike  about  your  muse. A5 : look, i know i said i liked confidence, but something about galo that annoys me is the fact that he can often seem too confident. like yeah he seemed pretty humble in that pizza scene at the beginning of the movie, but i can’t help but feel a twinge of annoyance towards people who put themselves right into the center of attention and be all like “yeah i know i’m great.” like my boy i love you but do u have to announce urself every time u appear on the scene??? and pls stop being so reckless u honestly might die too soon one of these days we want u to be around for us to enjoy u Q6 : what  do  you  have  in  common  with  your  muse ? A6 : i definitely feel like we both have our moments where we just need some peace and quiet. of course, everyone needs this, but when galo talked about running off when he was pissed reminded me of me; i tend to go and cool off and vent to myself if i’m annoyed about something. we’re both naturally people-oriented and love to be around others, even though galo likes being the center of attention a little bit more than myself. Q7 : how  does  your  muse  feel  about  you ? A7 : in the sense that if galo were real, i honestly think we would get along fairly well. we have different ways of dealing with things, but we have similar habits and personality traits. however when it comes to rp blogs, while i do like to headcanon things about my muses that mirror my own opinions and beliefs, i do consider the mun/muse relationship fairly symbiotic. we as real people can learn so much from fictional characters and in how we play them, and of course, the mun will determine some things about the muse that will deter from canon. Q8 : what  characters  does  your  muse  have  interesting  interactions  with ? A8 : i just started this blog and have had very minimal interactions, so it’s hard to say ! i’d say that an interaction with a kray muse would be the most interesting. part of me wants galo to forgive kray and to have a better relationship with him post-movie canon, but there’s still so much about galo and kray’s relationship pre-movie as well; what was their relationship like? was kray like a father to galo? how can i describe the psychological mindset that galo had after finding out that kray betrayed him? there’s so much about these two that i really want to discover and look at, while of course providing my own insight (cuz that’s what muns do, right?). Q9 : what  gives  you  inspiration  to  write  your  muse ? A9 : i like to study galo’s actions in the movie, and try to find the underlying cause of the actions he takes. however, when it comes to headcanons, i will often think of a scene or an idea in my head and then internally apply it to galo and see if it works. this is usually what kindles my writing fire: the thoughts that often rush through my head. Q10 : how  long  did  this  take  you  to  complete ? A10 : like two whole days lmao im so slow

[fanforthefics]

Okay okay so for the prompt meme how about blackout for either Ovi/Nicke OR Colin/Tyson (I dare you)

Colin wakes up to the sound of the door to his apartment closing. 

Given that he lives alone, this would be pretty disconcerting, but his head is also pounding and he’s not fully awake, so he can’t quite manage to be properly worried by it. 

Instead, he lies there in bed, his eyes still closed. He feels--drained. It’s unusual, usually he tries to make sure his sleep schedule is such that he always gets the necessary seven hours that’s optimal for his body, and he’s really been working on techniques for making sure that sleep is all good, deep sleep. Of course, his head doesn’t usually feel like this--he hasn’t had a hangover this bad since he was in college probably, since he really figured out the rhythms of water and hangover cures to preemptively make sure this doesn’t happen. 

Except it definitely did last night. Apparently. Although he can’t remember it. 

Colin takes a deep breath, counting in and out, so that he stays even. Then he takes another. Then he opens his eyes. 

He’s in his bed, which is comforting. Nothing appears to be out of order, and he’s even in the sweatpants he likes to sleep in. He can see the outfit from last night draped over the chair, which is odd--Colin when drunk isn’t usually tidy. 

He turns his head, and--the bed next to him was clearly slept in. There’s an indent on the pillow still, and the blankets are mussed, and the door had closed. 

Colin takes another breath. He takes stock of his body--he feels fine, not sore, which means something but not that much. He didn’t--he’d taken someone home? What had he--he couldn’t remember, what if they couldn’t either, what if he--what if they--

The breaths aren’t working. He fumbles for his phone. There’s a text on it, from Nemo, asking him if he got home okay. Colin could call him back, but instinct’s carrying him somewhere else, and he follows that energy until the phone is ringing and then--

“Hey,” Tyson says, and his voice is warm and fond and Colin can hear that he’s smiling. 

It’s calming. Colin does know that generally, Tyson is not what people would call a calming presence, given that he’s causing chaos 75% of the time, but Colin thinks that those people just don’t know Tyson very well. Nemo says that Tyson’s just different around Colin, but Colin has been putting that thought aside until he has the bandwidth to really consider it. “Didn’t think you’d be up yet.” 

“Yeah.” Colin takes another breath. It’s easier. On the other side of the call, he hears a horn; Tyson must be outside. That’s odd too; Colin’s usually the one who gets up with the sun to take advantage of the body’s natural rhythms and Tyson’s the one who sleeps in as long as he can. “I. Um.” 

“Are you okay?” Tyson asks, and his voice has changed--now he sounds like he does when he talks to the rookies sometimes, when they don’t need Cool Uncle Tyson but Tyson who’ll help without judging. 

Tyson won’t judge. Colin takes another breath. Tyson’s probably been in this situation before, he’ll know what the best procedure is. Another breath. 

“I, um. I think I slept with someone last night, and I can’t remember what happened for most of the night, and I am not handling it ideally,” Colin says, trying to make it calm. 

There’s a long pause. Colin expected some ribbing immediately, because it is Tyson, and Tyson’s help always comes with mockery even if it’s not judging and half pointed at himself anyway. But there’s a long second where the only sound is whatever’s happening on the street next to Tyson. 

Then, “Oh.” Something has changed in Tyson’s voice. “Oh, right, um. Okay. You, um, slept with someone. And you don’t remember who.” 

“That’s what I said,” Colin agrees. It doesn’t sound better repeated back at him. 

“So is this just bragging, or...” 

“I don’t know what to do,” Colin admits. It’s never easy to say, but admitting it is the first step to fixing it. “What if they took something? What if I did something they didn’t want? What if they did something I wouldn’t want? What if they have pictures or something? Shouldn’t I make sure they’re okay as well?” 

“Hey, you can’t freak out, that’s my job, I’m not equipped to be the not freaking out one,” Tyson interrupts. Colin snorts. “I’ll be there in like five minutes, we’ll--figure it out.”

The frantic energy settles in Colin, at that. He trusts he and Tyson together can figure it out. At the very least Tyson’s dad probably has someone who handles this sort of thing. “Why only five minutes?” he asks, though. Tyson lives at least fifteen minutes away. “Don’t speed, I’ll be fine for ten more minutes.” 

“I, um. Was in the area already,” Tyson mumbles, fast enough it takes Colin’s hungover brain a second to pick the words apart, and by the time he does, Tyson’s already telling him good-bye and he’ll be right there. 

Colin puts his phone down, and drags himself out of bed to brush his teeth and down as much water as his body could handle. He runs a hand through his hair while he’s at the mirror. Tyson’s definitely seen him looking worse than this, but he’ll feel better if he doesn’t feel like Tyson is really seeing him at his worst. 

He’s just finishing more water when there’s a knock on the door and a call of, “Willy, it’s your new husband and official owner of all your worldly possessions!” 

Colin chuckles, and opens the door. “We aren’t in Vegas, i think I’m okay.” 

“You think,” Tyson snorts, as he breezes past Colin. He hands Colin a cup of coffee from Colin’s favorite coffee place a few blocks away, then wraps both his hands around his own cup. “Shows what you know. A lot can happen in a night.” 

“Why did you have two coffees?” Colin asks. He doesn’t think Tyson had enough time to get here and get him coffee. But when he takes a sip, it tastes exactly like he likes it, down to the soy milk. 

It hits him then. “Were you going back to someone?” he asks, because the two coffees, the way, now that he looks at Tyson, he’s wearing the pants he wore last night and a nondescript Avs t-shirt that looks like the sort of thing that lives in Colin’s and probably the rest of the team’s cars. 

“So let’s go through this,” Tyson says loudly, which basically answers that. “You don’t remember anything from last night?” 

“I remember...” Colin thinks back. “Going to the club, and we were dancing.” He definitely remembers that, the way neither of them could dance at all but Tyson threw himself into it because that was what he did, what he always did, and how that made Colin want to too. How Tyson had grinned up at Colin, the lights playing over his face, and Colin had been already drunk and falling falling falling and full of love, for the moment, for the fate that brought him there, for Tyson. 

That last one wasn’t unusual. Colin was maybe a little in love with Tyson, but so was everyone who met him, and Colin got more of him than most of them did, so Colin was lucky enough. 

“Anything after that?” Tyson asks. Colin thinks, but--there’s nothing there. Flashes, maybe, of the lights and laughter and leaning on someone as they opened his door, but--nothing more. 

“No.” 

“Tsk tsk, Colin Wilson. Getting blackout drunk. Who even are you, me?” Tyson grins, then he turns to head to the bedroom. Colin follows after him, willing to let Tyson’s energy carry him through. “Okay,” Tyson goes on, when he gets into Colin’s bedroom. “We can do this. We can solve the mystery. Ooh, hey, maybe you had a whole adventure and we’ll have to track down the clues!” He sounds energetic about it, but--the energy isn’t quite enthusiasm. 

“I don’t think there are any clues,” Colin tells him. “Or, I don’t--” 

“Hey.” Tyson grabs his shoulders. The touch is grounding. “It’ll be okay, promise. Does it look like anything was taken?”

Colin looks around. He doesn’t see anything, and tells Tyson so. 

“And your underwear’s all there?” Colin raises his eyebrows. Tyson shrugs. “Look, it happens to you once, you start checking.” 

Colin shakes his head--he can never quite tell where the causality is, with Tyson and the stuff that just seems to happen to him--and goes to check. Tyson keeps flitting around his room, never settling anywhere. 

“I don’t think anything’s missing,” he reports.  

“Okay, good,” Tyson nods. “That’s, yeah, good.” He nods again. “We can--we go to the bar now, see if they know anything.” He starts to sit down on the bed, then bounces up again immediately. 

“Will they?”

“They do sometimes.” Colin considers asking how many times Tyson has been in this situation, then decides that it’s probably not worth it and he doesn’t particularly want to know. “You just need to, um, get dressed, and then we can go.” 

“Yeah, I can--” Colin opens the drawer with his t-shirts in it. He just did laundry, so he knows that the drawer should be full. 

Except it’s not, and there’s a few inches left in the drawer. 

“I think they took a t-shirt, actually,” Colin says, turning to look at Tyson, who’s now having a staring contest with the bed, his back to Colin. Colin can see the breadth of his shoulders under the Avs shirt. 

Tyson didn’t drive last night, Colin remembers, suddenly. They’d ubered because Tyson refused to DD and refused to let Colin DD either. 

Tyson looks over at him, and Colin’s hungover, but he can put the pieces together when they land in his lap. 

“Tyson,” he says, and there must be something in his voice because Tyson’s eyes go wide and panicked like they do when the cameras on him and he can’t stop himself from talking. “Did we sleep together last night?” 

Tyson’s cheeks go instantly bright red, which is an answer in itself. “Well it depends on what you mean by sleep? We didn’t have sex, so, in that definition no.”

“But you slept here last night.” 

“Would you believe me if I said no?” Tyson asks, sounding hopeful. He won’t meet Colin’s eyes. 

“Not really, no.” Colin’s heartbeat sounds loudly in his ears. 

“Then, yeah.” Tyson glances away, at the bed, then quickly in the other direction. “Um. Yeah.” 

“Why didn’t you just say that?” Colin takes another breath. He doesn’t like being angry, especially at Tyson. He would like to avoid it. “Instead of letting me--” 

“You didn’t remember!” Tyson cuts him off, sounding harsher than usual. “If you didn’t remember, I figured you didn’t want to remember, so I was just going to let it go.” 

“That’s not how blackouts work!” 

“Which one of us has the experience here?” Tyson snaps back, his arms crossed over his chest. It’s--Colin had assumed Tyson had just crashed in his bed, which wouldn’t have been out of the ordinary for hockey players. But Tyson’s not reacting like he crashed in Colin’s bed and then played a prank. 

Calm. He can figure things out when he’s in equilibrium. 

“Tys, what happened?” he asks. “You said we didn’t have sex.” 

“We didn’t!” Tyson repeats, emphatic. “We were both way too drunk and it would have been a shitty first time and you decided you didn’t want that, so we definitely didn’t hook up.” 

“Tys--”

“I was going to let it go!” Tyson repeats, throwing up his hands. “I was--I didn’t realize you were blackout, I’m sorry, but if you were that drunk then you were too drunk to mean what you said so I was going to give you an out because that’s what friends do!” 

“What did I say?” Colin asks. He’s not sure he wants to know. But he won’t be able to settle until he does. Tyson glances down at his feet. “Tys, please?” 

“Just that you were into me, I guess,” Tyson mumbles, still not looking at Colin. “And like, would have hooked up with me if we hadn’t been drunk, and also that maybe it would have meant something to you more than just a hook up and that’s why you wouldn’t do it.” 

“Oh.” Colin blinks, trying to process that. 

“But like I said, you were drunk, I’m not going to like, hold you to it,” Tyson goes on, his voice speeding up like it does when he’s trying to fill space. “I’ll just, um, go. And we don’t have to talk about it ever again, I mean, you don’t even remember it, so--” 

“You were going to come back?” Colin cuts him off, because sometimes Tyson needs to be cut off.

“Well, yeah, I mean, you made a lot of promises about the morning, but--” 

Colin takes a step forward. “Tys, I meant it.” 

“What?” Tyson’s head jerks up. “Seriously, we’re cool. Drunk confessions of love don’t count, if they did Mac and I would be married like a hundred times.” 

“I’m not Nate.” 

“Somehow I noticed.” Tyson’s biting his lip. “You don’t have to.” 

“I want to.” Colin has to smile. “Were you seriously going to go through a Hangover shenanigans thing instead of telling me it was you?” 

“The Hangover thing sounded kind of fun,” Tyson admits, but he’s smiling now, and Colin doesn’t know exactly what made him brave last night, what got him to say it, but--he leans down as Tyson slides a hand behind his neck, and when he kisses Tyson it’s like everything goes still. 

[thealphabetmurders]

Scrambled Thoughts

Pairings: Romantic Logince, Sibling Analogical

Word Count: 2224 (for Chapter 4), 10424in total

(Previous) (First)

Summary: Roman was not a rebel by any means. Roman was not a fan of breaking rules. Sure, he bent some from time to time, but never done anything blatantly wrong, that was not in service to his passions. Yet, despite the protests his best friend and his consciousness, he picks up two dozen eggs and goes to vandalize. Now, Roman has to avoid suspension, make amends with Virgil, alleviate the concern of Patton, and not fall in love with his enemy Logan.

Triggers: Bullying, Violence, Vandalism, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Mentions of Racism, Classism

Authors Note: This took way too long to get out and I am not 100% satisfied with it, but you all deserve something, thank you for reading. This chapter is basically Roman saying “eat the rich” for 2k words. Also, I made both Roman and Logan 2nd Gen immigrants for fun. (,I was inspired by a dream @misplaced-my-notes had, thank you).

Taglist (for everyone who seemed interested): @misplaced-my-notes, @jaszczurkaaa, @an-atypical, @jughead-is-canonically-aroace (let me know if you wanted to be added/taken off)

(Read on AO3)

Roman liked working with his hands. Whilst worksheets and tests were never working in his favor, labs and presentations were always where he shined, despite them coming up less frequently. Which, pointing out, that that put many kids like himself at a disadvantage, seeing as it is difficult to focus on school work as just a piece of paper or online quiz, but give that same subject matter in practice and he excels.

Moving past poking holes in the modern day schooling system, Roman is a physical being by nature. While many people destress by watching television, listening to music, or sleeping, Roman is finding anything to do to keep himself working.

This does not mean in a “completing all of my homework 3 weeks in advance” way. It is in a sense of “I will do chores that I like so I can daydream freely” way. Today, Roman has planted new cilantro, walked down to his local farmers market to pick up fresh tomatoes, onions, and jalapenos for the tostadas he is making for him and his mother tonight, and is currently working on changing the oil in his car.

After talking to Mr. B and Dr. Picani, they both came to the agreement that Roman was working extremely hard for extended periods of time and needed to take a ‘mental health day’, which Roman was not a fan of. Not working often times gave him spouts of anxiety, like he was failing himself and others around him by not working towards his goals.

Nevertheless, the two adults were incredibly adamant about it, and Dr. Picani even wrote a note for his mother so he would not get in trouble for missing school. Mr. B even arranged for someone to bring his work to him at the end of the day, which was ending right as he began working on his car.

Roman would never be considered a “car guy” by any means, considering he drives his dead father’s old Jetta, but, the cost of auto repair (like healthcare) is hyper-inflated and (unlike healthcare) Roman finds most of the repairs he can perform himself. Also, it gives him an excuse to wear muscle tee shirts not entirely appropriate for mid September.

The rough texture of the skateboard he was using as a creeper dug uncomfortably into his spine, but a few moments of discomfort was worth it to use his old skateboard as a multi use tool.

Roman adjusted his oil pan so it was directly underneath the drain plug and took his socket wrench to twist it off. He hummed along to the low ambiance of Dear Evan Hansen , but the music was still quiet enough for him to hear doors to apartments opening and closing and the cars passing him in the parking lot and a low rumble of an engine near him.

After getting the plug out, he set it next to him and Roman made sure the oil was flowing nicely into the pan and pulled his phone out of his pocket, setting a timer for 15 minutes. He pocketed the phone and turned to grab the plug, but the metal piece was not where he left it.

“Shit,” He turned to his left and right to see the plug, but it was nowhere under the car. He lifted himself off the skateboard slightly only to hit himself on the head of the undercarriage of the car.

Roman groaned out in pain, though, the goose egg on his head was the least of his concerns. He looked out from the dark of the car into the light and saw the piece of metal glistening on the pavement. He reached to his left for the plug, the skateboard leaning in that direction, but was just a few millimeters too far. He reached again, hoping to obtain a different result, but this time a hand reached down and grabbed the metal plug, handing it to the man under the car.

“Oh!” Roman cried out in relief, promptly pocketing the plug, “You are a lifesaver,”

“You are quite welcome, Roman,”

That familiar voice sent a chill down Roman’s spine and blood boiling in his veins. Of course he was here.

Roman did not want to come out from under the vehicle, knowing he would have to directly confront his problems. He could just turn up his music to max volume and pretend Logan was not there. Nevertheless, he would have to come out from under the car eventually, and Logan was just as stubborn as he was. Roman dug his heels onto the concrete and pulled himself out from under the car, to stare up at Logan, looking as radiant as ever.

“ Stupid gorgeous bastard, ”

“What are you doing here?” Roman asked, voice laced with venom, “Can you not see I am busy,”

“I am not blind, I do see,” Logan frowned, “What exactly are you doing, I am not privy to car maintenance,”

“Oil change,” Roman said sharply.

Logan chuckled weakly, “Do they not do that type of thing at car repair shops?”

“An oil change for a car of my mileage would be about $75. And I like to do things myself,” Roman told him, curtly. Logan hummed in response, hugging his sides awkwardly, “I answered all your questions, Arias, are you not capable of answering mine,”

Roman could not help but notice the way that Logan’s face hardened at the use of his last name, but the discontent with his presence was still prevalent.

“I am just here strictly for business, Prince,” Logan whipped his backpack around to his front and pulled out a bright red folder, “I was told to deliver your homework,”

The sting of betrayal from his teachers hit Roman in the heart, but he snatched the folder regardless, “So Picani asked you to deliver this,”

“Picani asked the student body president to deliver this. He did not say anything else,”

Roman hummed in response and tossed it off to the side after flipping through the pages, lazily.

“Thanks, then. See you later,” Roman shrugged his shoulders and leaned back on the skateboard to check on the oil, only to be quickly pulled back out, Logan frowning over him with his foot on the board, “What the hell, Arias,”

“I do not want to overstep, but what is going on?”

“I have no idea what you could be talking about,” Roman rolled back under the car, but not for long as Logan pulled him back out.

“Really? Because it was just two days ago we were making plans for Bubble Tea, now you are acting as though you have no idea who I am,”

“Tch,” Roman scoffed, rolling his eyes, “I don’t have to act like I don’t know who you are, ML- Lame Formatting,”

Another roll back, countered by another roll forward, this was now coupled with an even more confused looking Logan, “What exactly are you insinuating?”

“Let me just say, I am not the only actor in the midst of this tiff,”

“Acting? Prince, you know I do not do theater, please just state what is upsetting you,” Logan pleaded, his eyes filled with malcontent and confusion, but Roman said nothing in response, choosing to look at the other’s forehead to avoid eye contact with his bespeckled foe, “Princey, just listen, whatever I did to hurt you, just know you have my deepest apologies, surely, but you have to tell me what is going on,”

He opened his mouth to speak but he had nothing to say to the other. Instead, he rolled back underneath the car, staring at the darkened under carriage.

Roman felt the skateboard jerk around underneath him to where he almost fell off after Logan kicked on of the wheels, “Roman, get out from under the car and talk to me, goddammit!”

Too filled with rage and annoyance at his former friend, he rolled out from underneath the car and stood up in one fluid motion, towering over the other, both of their faces filled with anger.

“You wanna know what is wrong? Fine. I am not upset. I am pissed the fuck off, Logan! I am pissed because I don’t have many friends- no, I do not have any friends except for my friend Patton, who is a damn good one because he told me all about what you were conniving and planning. I trusted you, Logan, and you decided that using me and my friendship to get me expelled was more important than forming an actual bond between friends-”

“Roman, I-”

“Quiet!” Roman ran his hands through his hair, he was now pacing, “You used me. You wasted my time and my energy just so that you could get a leg up, a leg up you do not even need! I do not even care about UCLA or- or a scholarship. I care that you stooped so low to act like my friend for - for what? For information? A confession?”

“But I did-”

“It doesn’t matter your reasoning, it is the principle of the matter. You cannot just go through life picking and choosing people to feed off of and discard once you are finished. I - I - Y- You made me feel like nothing, like I was nothing and you made me feel like an idiot, because of all the time you have been in school, you never befriended anyone, self preservation should be your middle name, because it sure as hell -!”

“Roman I was not acting!” Logan stated, not too loudly, but stern enough to get Roman to stop ranting.

“W-what?”

“Roman.” Logan stated, punctuating each syllable, “I was not, acting,”

Roman head felt as though it had been filled with cotton, “You weren’t?”

Logan scoffed, “Of course not. Whilst it would have been a brilliant plan on my part, it was not worth the mental and physical energy to prove something that may have seemed like a lost cause. And, over the course of getting to know you better, there is a minimal chance of you actually causing the property damage,”

Roman opened his mouth to speak but promptly closed it again, not wanting to correct any of Logan’s suspicions. He did not know what to say.

“I- I do not know what to say, I guess, I am sor-”

“Do not apologise Roman, please,” Logan waved him off and leaned on the back of his car, “I understand why you would believe what you do. I too often times have difficulties trusting people,”

Roman raised an eyebrow, leaning next to the other, “Really? Why is that, Bezos?”

“Well,” He sighed, “I am sure you can relate. I am gay and I am the kid of a first generation Peruvian immigrants, and neither of them were ever really around until a few years ago. It can get really hard to know who you can and cannot trust. People take advantage of you because of what they think you are, now more than ever. You sit next to people in school who believe you do not deserve to live because of who you love or are partnered up with people who believes our parents are 'stealing their jobs',” Logan’s expression was unreadable as he stared off into the distance, “I am just trying to understand, I know how hard it can be,”

Roman twiddled his thumbs and bit his lip, debating what to say, “Yea, you can understand Logan,” He sighed, “But… Also, you cannot understand.” Logan looked at his with confusion, “Look, if I tried to get you expelled then you can just apply to UC Berkeley or Harvard or wherever. UCLA is the only ‘elite school’ quote-on-quote, that the school counselor said would even give me a chance at a scholarship. Our lives are different and will always be different because you live in higher income and I live in the low. Your parents came here and now one is an anesthesiologist and the other is a lawyer. My parents came here from the Dominican Republic and my father died and my mother is working as a hospice aide living paycheck to paycheck. Everything is always going to be easier because of your money. You have a motorcycle and a nice car. And I- I have this car that my dad died in,”

“Jesus, Roman,”

Roman chuckled in spite of himself, “Yea, that was a bit dark.” He kicked himself off the side of the car and spun around to face Logan, his expression riddled with guilt, “Look, we do not choose our upbringing, but it does shape the people that we become. Comparing the two is like… Is like comparing ionic bonds to covalent,”

Logan smiled at this, “You actually remembered something I taught you, for once,” Logan moved closer to Roman, “So, I am presuming that this row is over, and we can go back to friends now,”

Roman smirked, “Of course, my glorious nerd.” Roman’s phone violently beeped at him, making his heart skip a beat, “Before we do anything else, I have an oil change to attend to,”

“Roman,” Logan said, hesitantly, “Do you think that you could, maybe… Show me?”

“Show you?”

“Show me how to change… The oil,” Logan bit his lip, looking down at his black, shiny boots, wearing an unsure expression that does not go with his usual cocky attitude, “I have always wanted to learn and fine tuning motor skills is important to become a well-rounded individual,”

Roman smiled and grabbed a wrench, throwing it to Logan, “It would be my honor,”