#but it would be cool to have more with more broad sets of questions for alterhumans that aren’t otherkin or therians

[thereareeyesinsidethetrees]

these shitfucked legs ae swear

[navybrat817]

Eye of the Beholder

Pairing: Bodyguard!Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Summary: Steve is your beautiful bodyguard and he thinks you're beautiful, too.

Word Count: Over 1.7k

Warnings: Bodyguard trope, fluff, tension, Steve Rogers (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: More Beach Fun Nonsense! Hope you lovelies enjoy. Anon requested for Bodyguard!Steve (who still does art) to dig his Toes in the Sand (fluff) with prompt #45 in bold. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You shuffled through your closet with an audible sigh. You had to make an appearance at a party tonight and still didn't know what to wear. It was ridiculous since you had a wide range of dresses and outfits to choose from, but your heart wasn't in it. Maybe because you didn't want to attend. You’d rather curl up and watch a movie as you fell asleep, but it was part of your job to socialize and look pretty.

You weren't going to complain when many out there had it worse.

“Why don't you get some rest instead of going through your closet? Again?”

You turned and stared at your bodyguard who sat across the room. With his short blonde hair and blue eyes, Steve Rogers was stunning enough to be a model. With his intimidating stature though, he made the right call by becoming a personal protection specialist. Easy on the eyes and built like a brick house, today he wore a tight blue shirt that showed off his broad shoulders and chest. He looked like the type of man who could toss you around if you asked nicely.

But seeing the sketchpad in his lap, you wondered if your paths ever would've crossed had he focused on an art career instead.

“You know you don't have to be here until tonight, right?” You asked, ignoring his suggestion as you shut the door. “Or do you like spending your time off watching over me?”

It wasn't your idea to hire a bodyguard, but you understood your agent’s insistence for you to have one. There were overzealous fans and creeps out there who wanted you. Ones who would stop at nothing to have you. All because you were a model. And while you weren't aware of any recent threats or danger, you needed someone like Steve to watch out for you.

Better safe than sorry.

But Steve himself? He was a pleasant surprise. You expected a stoic but polite man since he called you “ma’am” with the most serious expression upon meeting you. The more time spent with him, you realized passion lurked beneath the surface. Beyond that, he was authentic. In a world surrounded by plastic smiles, fake talk, and people ready to knock you from the pedestal you never asked to be set on to begin with, he was a much needed breath of fresh air.

“Technically my next day off is two days from now, ma’am,” he gently corrected you. You could listen to him talk all day. “But day off or not, I don't mind spending any extra time with you.”

“Oh,” you said, your cheeks hot. You spent days around gorgeous people who didn't make you bat an eye or stutter, but any sort of compliment or kind word from this man always got to you. “Hey, haven't I told you not to call me ma’am?”

“You have. On more than one occasion over the last couple of months.” A smile touched his kissable lips. “I guess it slipped my mind.”

You leveled him with a cool gaze. “So, your eidetic memory is limited to visual aspects and not auditory memories?’ You asked.

His face lit up when he smiled. “You remembered that I have an eidetic memory?”

You pointed a finger at him. “Keep calling me ma’am and you’ll be out of a job,” you said, deflecting from his question.

He chuckled, not at all afraid of your threat. “You won't fire me,” he said.

It was true. Steve had lasted longer than you expected because you liked him. More than that, you trusted him. He was the kind of man who would lay down his life for you and also keep your secrets safe. Not that you had many, but you wouldn't hesitate to tell him anything.

Anything except how your thoughts about Steve were sometimes unprofessional.

“I guess I won't, but don't think I won't make you carry my clutch around if you keep that up,” you teased, taking a seat on the edge of your bed. Steve has been in your room countless times and it always felt a bit warmer with him there. “On that note, I’m sorry you have to go to the party tonight.”

At least you didn't have to bring a fake date. Lord, you couldn't stand PR stunts like that. You didn't judge those in the industry who did it since you understood why. It just wasn't for you.

Would Steve have been jealous if you did? Or would he have insisted that you go alone for your safety?

“Don't apologize. Where you go, I go,” he assured you, your heart swelling. You reminded yourself that it was his job to do that and nothing more. “Just give me the signal when you want to leave.”

Steve didn't just keep an eye on you for protection, but looked out for your well-being. He made sure you got rest when you were tired, food when you were hungry, and privacy when the crowd became too much. Your past boyfriends never paid attention or cared that much. Why was a bodyguard so concerned?

“Do you ever get tired of this?” You asked, leaning back on your hands as you regarded him. “Keeping an eye on me? Going where I'm going?”

He stopped sketching to look at you, his eyes sparkling with affection that you liked to imagine he reserved for only a select few. “I say with complete sincerity that not only am I not tired of being your bodyguard, but you’re the best client I’ve ever had the privilege of protecting.”

You were certain stars shone in your eyes. “You flatter me, Steve.”

“I only speak the truth.”

You covered your mouth when you yawned. “Flattery. Truth. You’re still good to me and I appreciate it.”

Steve sat up straight and put his pencil down, concern etched in his face. “You’re tired. I think you should take a quick nap while you can.”

The man had a bossy tendency at times, but it was for your own good. You waved him off anyway. You could sleep later tonight. It wasn't that big of a deal. “What are you drawing?” You asked.

“Take a nap,” he said again, his voice low.

You couldn't help but shiver. That kind of tone almost made you blurt out “yes, sir”, but you refrained. “You're drawing ‘take a nap’?” You asked instead, doing an inner cheer when his lips twitched in a smile. “Show me what it is and I’ll get some sleep. Just for you.”

“Just for me?” He asked.

“I think if anyone could get me to do anything without too much of a fight, it's you, Steve,” you said sincerely

He ran a hand through his hair and shyly ducked his head. “I can't say no to those eyes.” He brought his chair closer so you didn't have to get up. “But no insulting my work, okay? My ego can’t take it today.”

“Since your ego can't take it today, I’ll save the insults for tomorrow,” you giggled, but it stopped the moment he showed you the page.

It was a drawing of you.

You almost touched the page before you stopped yourself, not wanting to smudge it. The details were immaculate, down to your facial features and how you held yourself. You couldn’t say it was like looking in a mirror because you had never seen yourself look so beautiful, but it was still a reflection of you and something deeper.

He captured an essence that no camera ever had. One you didn't know you possessed. It was a tender and sensual story told through his eyes. Was this really how you looked to him?

“Steve, this is…” You lost your breath as you looked in his eyes. Where he had been shy a moment ago, he held his head high. Proudly. He should be proud of his talent. “It’s beautiful.”

“You're beautiful,” he whispered, his gaze a combination of soft and heated. A combination that made you lick your lips and set your heart ablaze. “It’s, uh, also not the first drawing I’ve done of you,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair again.

You saw color in his cheeks as you smiled at him. “You think I'm beautiful?” Plenty of people told you that, but you liked it more coming from him. It was an earnest sort of declaration without demanding anything from you in return. “And you have more drawings of me?”

Part of you hoped he drew you in intimate positions since you selfishly wanted him to desire you.

“You're the most beautiful person I've ever known.” Steve placed a large hand on your cheek and you didn't hesitate to lean in, your heart racing faster. Could he see your pulse racing in your neck? “And I do have more. Maybe if you're good, I’ll show them to you.”

Please.

You thought he was going to close the gap and kiss you, but a knock at the door made him pull away and reach for the gun in his holster. It was both sexy and disappointing to see him slip into his bodyguard mode. That was why he was there though. To protect you. Your safety came first.

“Steve?” An unfamiliar voice called from the other side of the door.

Steve’s shoulders relaxed, but he shook his head. “New guy. Doesn't know the knock yet. I’ll be right back,” he muttered, surprising you by brushing his lips against your forehead. “Lay down, please. I need you to get some rest for both of us.”

You watched him walk to the door and waited until he grabbed the handle to answer. “Maybe you can join me. Sir.”

The muscles in his back tightened, his gaze dark as he glanced back at you. “Be good,” he growled, leaving the room quickly. It was a sound you hadn't heard before.

Giggling, you flopped back on your bed. Steve drew you. He thought you were beautiful. He desired you. At least, you hoped so. Now the question was, how long would you stay at the party tonight before you picked up where you left off?

And would you behave?

I hope I did this justice. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Steve Rogers Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[starkeyisthelastname]

a trailerpark!rafe blurb for @islandclubchampagneroom 🚬 this is a lil filthy.. you’ve been warned. 😶💦

You looked like a little gorgeous doll, skipping from trailer to trailer with your basket full of goodies you made. You came across your new favorite place, which was Rafe’s trailer. It was kinda run down, but that didn’t matter to you. To your surprise, he was outside already, washing his beat down pickup. You couldn’t help but ogle him a little as he was shirtless, his toned upper body on full display. He made your tummy feel funny every time you were around him, especially when you heard him speak. “It’s a lil’ hot for you to be outside, ain’t it’ baby doll?” He would rasp out.

He held a cigarette in the same hand as he did the hose, rinsing off the rusty truck as the other one brought a can cheap beer to his lips. His hooded blue eyes would stare you up and down, the nasty thoughts already running through his mind as he soaked up every inch of your stunning little self.

“I made cookies! Do you want some?” You asked, voice sweet as you ignored his question about it being too hot.

He eyed you, gulping down the rest of his beer before smashing the can and throwing it behind him. He brought the cigarette up to his mouth, motioning you to come closer. He wrapped an arm around your waist, peering down into your basket. “What kind you make, sweet cheeks?” He asked, squeezing your hip roughly.

You felt giddy every time he touched you, biting your glossy bottom lip as you felt the heat shoot down to your core. “Sugar with sprinkles and umm.. chocolate chip with pink frosting. It’s kinda getting melted though…” You pout, not realizing his hand had slipped lower to feel the lack of panties you had on underneath your cotton dress. He blew out the smoke away from your pretty face, before chuckling darkly. “Well how about you come inside and cool off for a lil’ bit and you can set those pretty cookies down..” He suggested, knowing you’d fall for his trap.

He’d be three more beers in, last cigarette in his hand as the other lifted up your dress. “Why you walkin’ around the trailer park with your cunt all out?” He finally asked, large hand coming down to give it a firm smack. He’d have your back, pinned to his broad chest, his sparse facial hair, tickling your neck. You wiggled against his denim covered lap, the funny feeling in your tummy growing the more he touched you.

“You think this sweet lil’ hole is ready for a grown man’s cock?” His voice in a low drawl as the cloud of cigarette smoke blew down your body.

You were an adult, but your father had kept you sheltered away from everything that was bad. You never had been touched by another man until you met Rafe, and you were desperate for more. You didn’t know what his words meant, but they sounded dirty and your poor little self couldn’t help but nod. He shuffled a bit behind you, putting out the cigarette bud into the overflowed ash tray and lifting you up a little from his lap.

With a pop of his jeans and tug of a zipper, his fat cock smacked against his lower abs as he positioned you back against him. He ran the tip along your dripping folds, loving your whimpers as he teased your greedy little hole. He felt you tense up, gasping as he began to slowly push up into your untouched flower. It took every ounce of him not to completely ram up into your fluttering pussy, your cunt squeezing the fuck out of his dick. “That’s a tight fuckin’ cunt.” He grunted to himself.

You were so full, already dumb on the older man’s cock as the pain subsided for a pleasure you had never experienced. You were at a loss for words, body lazily collapsing against his muscled chest as his dirty hands hooked under your thighs. He began to thrust up into you, his light mustache grazing the smooth skin of your shoulder as he started talking dirty to you. “This is why you don’t come around a bad man like me, sweet baby doll. You get your fuckin cunt ruined.”

You were already too attached to him. Your head spinning as he said the most filthiest things you had ever heard in your sheltered life. Even if he was the exact type of man your father told you to stay away from, you didn’t care. You just didn’t know any better but to be obsessed about the first man to ever give you attention and that happened to be one of your father’s tenants.

“I own you now, sugar. Got that?” Rafe groaned in your ear, the sounds of your pretty moans getting increasingly louder throughout his messy trailer, while he fucked you through your first orgasm. “That’s right.. cum all over daddy’s fat cock, make a mess all over that shit my little fuckdoll.” He told you, feeling you clench around with a scream.

Oh how he was gonna have some fun with you…

[twst-drabbles]

Jamil 17

Summary: You and Jamil lay in his bed in his dorm room. While you’re very tired, you’re visibly not bothered by the social implications of being in the bed of another. Jamil, on the other hand, is a little too aware.

(I saw the birthday card and went “eh, why not?” and wrote this.)

Was this something common in your world? Where, out of nowhere, people will just casually ask their friends if they can sleep with them in their bed? Because that’s what you did to Jamil. You approached him, luckily out of earshot from anyone important, and asked that very question with zero shame.

“Hey Jamil? Mind if I sleep with you in your bed tonight?”

Jamil will admit, it took him a good five seconds for him to register the words. And, he will also admit that he banged his knee against the table he was cleaning. Hit it so hard actually that he curled up into a ball, and practically retreated into his hoodie because why would you ask that?! In broad daylight?!

But you know what’s the worst part about all this? Jamil actually got excited. Giddy even! When the hot flush flooding through his body finally settled, all that was left was this glowing feeling.

At the time, he thought that his charms have finally got to you. That all his efforts to be in your good graces have begun to bear fruit.

And so he said, “You know what? Yes, let’s do that. Setting aside the way you asked that, I think I can find it in my heart to forgive that.”

Past him’s an idiot. For all those times he thought himself above the hormonal college students, turns out Jamil was no better. He supposed it was only a matter of time before he was humbled.

And so here Jamil lays on his side of the bed, dressed in his best pajamas, surrounded by the best sheets and pillows he uses for special occasions, and you laying on your stomach, reading the next chapter for one of your classes.

You came in with a tired wave, bag at hand, and flopped over in his bed. And you’ve been in that pose since.

“So, this was what you meant.” Jamil said. Now that his judgment is clear again after an hour of doing nothing, he really should’ve known you didn’t mean anything special by what you asked. Shame on him for expecting an extra meaning to them.

“Hmm? Oh, was the way I asked weird?” You glanced towards him. Jamil recognizes that exhausted look weighing in your eyes. Perhaps, through the rose-tinted glasses, Jamil didn’t notice. Once again, shame on him. Jamil should suffocate himself with these pillows. “Sorry about that. I just really want one good night of sleep. Just one.”

The urge to hit himself with the pillows lessened. Jamil moved onto his stomach, and copied your position, propping his chin on the pile. “Is there something wrong with your bed?”

You put your phone down. “Weather’s getting hotter and I still don’t have a working air con. It gets so humid at night that I sweat through the night. Can barely get more than three hours of sleep at a time.”

…of course the headmage would neglect to give you something as simple as a stable heating and cooling. Leave it to him to ignore your problems while he goes off doing whatever else. Probably binge watching an old drama that’s not even any good.

“I can’t imagine it’s been easy to deal with. Though, I have to ask, why my bed? You have others that you’re closer to, don’t you?”

Others such as Ace and Deuce, but Jamil didn’t want to say their names. It’s childish but he doesn’t want to see if your eyes light up at their mere mention.

You stretched your spine and settled down. “Yeah I know other people, but–how do I say this–they’ll make it weird.”

Weird? Like how Jamil preparing everything from the lights, to the blankets and even stuffing his drawer with extra wipes just in case wasn’t weird? What?

“Wait, what you mean by weird?” Now Jamil’s worried. Did something happen for you to say that? Did someone do something to you?

You waved off his concern. “Well, see, originally I was just going to ask Rook since he doesn’t mind sharing spaces with anyone, but he’s also very into cuddling and I’m not in the mood for that.”

“That’s true, he’s very open about that kind of thin–wait you cuddled him before?” Since when?

“Cuddled him plenty of times. Rook gives the best hugs without trying to flirt with me. Anyways, Rook wasn’t an option, and neither are Ace and Deuce since there’s no room to spare. There was Leona but after that whole ordeal with Azul, I really don’t want to go back there. And as for asking Azul himself… I feel like he’d charge me for that. So, here I am.”

Oh. Well, when putting it like that, it does make sense doesn’t it? So long as you don’t figure out exactly what went through his head when you asked. He’ll just keep quiet about that.

Jamil sighed into his pillow. “While I want to ask why you didn’t ask Kalim, but I know him too well. A peaceful rest isn’t something he can give, not with the way he sleeps.”

You patted his shoulder and it took everything in Jamil to not jump out of his skin. “You get it. So, yeah, thanks Jamil, for not saying no. Honestly, I was ready to find an empty classroom and just sleeping in there.”

Jamil narrowed his eyes. “Don’t do that. You’ll get in trouble. Just sleep here for the time being. When I have time, I’ll see about pestering Crowley into getting everything in order.”

“You do too much for me, Jamil. Really.”

While things didn’t play out the way he wanted to, the warmth flooding in his chest has not once went away. If anything, from the sight of your smile, it threatened to overflow.

This is nice, that you trust him like this.

“…alright, this is still bothering me. How did you and Rook even start cuddling in the first place?”

And can he add himself onto that list of people you cuddle with?

“Hahaha, yeah that is strange, right? Alright, may as well tell you.”

[jadedvibes]

Wanted

Summary: You consider ending things with Bucky after seeing a girl come on to him, but it's not that easy, and you get a hard reminder about who he really wants in the clubhouse bathroom.

Pairing: Beefy biker!Bucky x reader

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, unprotected rough possessive sex, oral sex (f), fingering, brief exhibitionism/semi-public sex, mirror sex, jealous and angry reader, biker slang/culture, slightly toxic angsty vibes with a happy ending, a lot of swearing, pet names, beefy!bucky (he needs a warning).

Word Count: 1.6k

Like, comment, and/or reblog to put a giant smile on my face ♡

Leaning against the counter you tried to slow your breath and calm down after what you had just seen. A slutty little sweet butt, practically grinding herself against the man you’d been seeing – the man you thought was yours. Hell, he hadn’t told you that you were his old lady, but countless nights tangled up in his sheets at the clubhouse had you thinking that you were something more. Anything more.  

You watched the way he smirked at her before you finally got sick of the sight and stormed into the bathroom down the hall. 

Embarrassment flooded you as you realized what a waste your efforts with him were. You tried your best to play it cool, go easy and casual with Bucky because that's the pace that he set. But now you knew that he was just stringing you along out of convenience. 

Deep blue eyes locked with yours as you stared into the mirror, the brawny biker slipping into the bathroom behind you. 

“You just couldn’t help yourself, could ya Buck?” you sneered at his reflection. 

“C’mon darlin’, don’t be like that.” His big, warm hands slowly slid around your waist from behind. 

You turned in his hold, glaring up into his stupid gorgeous eyes. He towered over you and his large frame took over the cramped space. Why did he have to look like that? All broody, and irresistible, and annoyingly beguiling. Just having his hands on you made you want to fall down the rabbit hole, pretend like it didn’t bother you, as if your heart wasn’t on the line and you were perfectly fine – but then he smirked. 

Anger rose up your chest as you looked at him, grinning at you like he did at her. Rage took over. “I’m fucking done with you!” you shouted, shoving his broad chest away from you, but he didn’t move an inch and you hated how hot that was. His body emanated power, and his presence made you weak. 

Bucky’s eyebrows raised, his mouth slightly opening as his gaze darkened. “Nothing happened, and nothing was gonna happen, honest,” he declared. He sounded sincere, and you despised the way you felt your hard exterior fragment at his words. 

That smug smirk graced his lips again, and you wanted to slap it off, or more honestly, kiss it off. 

“You didn’t want something to happen with her?” 

He crowded you, pushing you up against the counter behind you, close enough to feel the heat permeating off his body. “Now why would I want that when I have this sexy little spitfire right here?” 

You rolled your eyes, biting your lip as you fought to hold onto your resolve the best you could. God, you just wanted him to hurt a little bit, wanted to be the one to walk away. “You don’t have me, Bucky.”

Gently running the back of his knuckles down the side of your face, his gaze flickered from your mouth to your eyes. “Don’t I?” he questioned, unaffected by your lie. 

Gasping at his arrogance, “You son of a bitch.” You were done, this was it. He was used to getting his way with every girl he came across, but you weren’t going to give the self-righteous bastard the satisfaction. 

His gruff voice broke your train of thought. “Because you sure as hell have me.”

Your breath hitched as you looked into his dark dilated pupils – he meant it. 

“You’re only gonna break my heart, I don't think we should –”

His lips cut you off before you could end it. His tongue was hot and determined. His hands moved up and cupped your jaw as he held you in place, kissing you until you couldn’t think. Until you forgot why you were mad in the first place, only knowing that you needed him. 

“You can’t quit me, baby,” he whispered against your lips. His hypnotic eyes reminded you that you were too far gone; his lips against your neck as his rough hands slid down and up your skirt, kneading your ass harshly cemented his possession. 

With his sinful blue eyes transfixed on yours, he dropped to his knees between your legs and licked up the length of your inner thigh. Heat bloomed in your core as you gave in, watching him kiss his way up your thighs, biting into your flesh as his eyes held yours. Whimpering out, you tugged him closer, needing more. Bucky chuckled darkly before burying his face in between your thighs, licking and sucking you through your lacy g-string. He hooked his thumbs into the sides of your panty and eased them off before swiftly hooking your leg over his shoulder and swiping his hot thick tongue through your wet folds. 

Your hands fell to his hair, holding him in place. “So fuckin’ good,” he groaned under his breath, his eyes closed in pleasure as he licked you from your entrance to clit, over and over again. 

Without warning he shoved two thick fingers into your center, working you over as his tongue fixated on your bundle of nerves. The cool metal of his rings sliding against your hot skin created a delicious contrast. You moaned in between gasps of air, watching as he took care of what he knew belonged to him. The grip on his hair got harsher and he could tell you were close, feeling your needy muscles quiver – his favorite tell-tale sign. 

Unable to control yourself you trembled in pleasure, body convulsing as you came undone. “That’s it, baby,” he purred, helping you through it, curling his fingers deeper inside of you. Mischievous eyes watched in appreciation, his chest swelling with pride as you whimpered out his name. 

While your anger had been snuffed out to embers, your passion for him reignited the flame. 

You coaxed Bucky to stand before tearing at his shirt, pulling his cut and flannel open so that you could nip at his neck. You bit and sucked your way down to his tattooed chest, leaving your mark as you went. 

Tugging at his belt, you swiftly undid his jeans, desperate to feel him. Before you could wrap your hand around his heavy length, he gripped the back of your thighs and pressed you hard up against the wall across from the mirror; where you could watch as he wrecked you. 

Holding you there with his hips and hands, he leaned forward to capture your lips before lining himself up; only pulling back a split second to watch your face as he buried himself inside of you, driving home with one hard thrust. You gasped at the stretch and intense familiar pressure. Bucky had fucked you so many times, but that first plunge never failed to take your breath away; always reminded you how no other man could ever fill you so right. 

His hips snapped into yours mercilessly, striking you roughly again and again at an unwavering pace. 

You threw your head back and lost yourself in a daze, incapable of uttering a word. Fuck, you’d let him do whatever he wanted if he’d keep on using your body like that.

“You’re all I want,” he growled, his teeth on your neck. 

As he recklessly thrusted in deeper than imaginable, you almost missed the quiet click of the door. But then your eyes locked in the mirror with that dumb skank that wanted your man. 

Her eyes nearly bulged out in surprise and you took the opportunity to toss her a devilish grin as Bucky took you apart. That’s right bitch, mine. 

She scurried off right before your back arched off the wall, your muscles tightening around him. 

“Oh, fuck –”

“Takin’ all of me so fuckin’ well,” Bucky grinded his pelvis into you, rubbing your clit each time he bottomed out, knocking the air from your lungs. He was lost in you, and all you could do was take it. Wrapping your legs tighter around his waist, you pulled him impossibly closer, until your walls spasmed as you shattered in his arms. But he wasn’t done with you; he rutted into you hard, watching proudly as your body quaked between the wall and him. You clenched him perfectly, pulsating around him so hard it sent him over the edge. 

You bit his lip as you felt his thrusts grow erratic. Bucky groaned out your name as he jerked violently, emptying himself – branding your insides with his hot release. 

He’d be happy to spend the rest of his days living in you. His brain was foggy, but his heart knew who he was supposed to be with. Resting his forehead against yours, he panted as he tried to calm down. 

Wrapping your hand around his jaw, you smiled softly. “I love it when we fight,” you admitted. 

He chuckled and squeezed your thighs. “Me too, darlin’,” he nipped your lip. “But I’m starting to think you start these fights because you know how it’ll end.” 

You giggled at his words, he was onto your game. “Maybe I do,” you whispered just before your lips met his for a soft, sweet kiss. 

You were everything he wanted in a woman, you gave him more than he ever thought he’d find in his world. Right then, he made a mental note to stop entertaining the advances of other girls. His soul was already taken. But damn was it true, the fights always led to the best sex. 

Carefully pulling himself out, he gently set you down, keeping his arms around your waist as you stood on wobbly legs. Your smudged eye makeup, those gorgeous sultry lips, and the way you looked at him – Bucky was a goner. 

You were his weakness, and he knew then what he’d never said out loud – all he needed from this life was his bike, the club, and his best girl. 

[padmestrilogy]

Anakin and Padmé as courtly love/exhalation of the beloved lady ???

They have the forbiddeness, the secrecy, the knight/lady dynamic, the purity of the love

(including these paintings to set the mood, and help remind people of what this kinda imagery is)

anakin and padme’s relationship is absolutely modeled off those ideals of “courtly love,” of something wholly pure and good despite the battle raging around. their romance is intentionally fantastical and high-stakes: it must end in death/rebirth, heaven/hell, there's no room for moderation. and with such a strong fictional lineage of doomed lovers to look back on, casting padme as a maiden saying farewell to a knight just feels right.

the really interesting part about this reading—to me at least—is you can come at it from a "believer" angle, and a "skeptic" angle. or, text v. subtext.

the "believer" angle is a straightforward applying of the "courtly love" fantasy onto the anidala dynamic. this angle disregards a lot of common criticisms of their relationship (anakin's awkard flirting, those stiff first dates, padme's reaction to the tusken massacre, etc etc), in favor of looking at what the plot demands of them. because if anakin and padme really are this great romance that splits the galaxy apart, these criticisms don't matter. their broad declarations of love are not structural weaknesses, but the whole point. what they as characters symbolize (truth v. lies, good v. evil, water v. fire, peace v. war) in the text et large is the source of their love for another, and questions like "but why would padme go for whiny anakin??" are completely off base. (i like this reading, i hope i'm not coming off as patronizing.)

the "skeptic" angle has anakin and padme seeing the other as fulfillment of their courtly love fantasy, and using these dual delusions as explanation for their worse moments. i.e. having padme idealize anakin as her only freedom from the oppressive queen/senator lifestyle as the reason behind her feelings for him. where i think this gets cool is interpreting padme as a religious figure, someone who is elevated to high status in society for her "purity" and goodness, but also objectified and dehumanized. "courtly love" is a deeply religious concept, and the "idealized beloved" is too. the most sympathetic reading of padme out there, imo, is she spent her whole life trying to be more than just queen of naboo and feel something real.

with anidala, you can have them truly be each other's only source of good and light, or you can have them build up impossible expectations of the other that all come crashing down. and both these readings are supported by the text, we have fun over here

[cripplecharacters]

do you have any advice/tips on how to write a cross eyed/lazy eyed/amblyopia character?

Hi, this is an incredibly broad question and hard to answer due to that. If you have a more specific question or a particular issue you're worried about, please send another ask with what exactly you'd like advice on.

The main tip I have is to not make the amblyopia/strabismus into a joke. Same with making the character who has it into the one comic relief character. To me, this trope was already tired and boring fifteen years ago and to this day it still hasn't managed to be funny once. Is an eye pointing a different direction really such comedy gold that writers (and, especially, artists) keep doing it to death? Just don't do this.

This doesn't mean that the character has to be serious or can't ever say anything funny. But the vast majority of characters with strabismus aren't even characters, they're one-off gags with no actual personality or even name. Or when they get a name there's an infuriatingly high chance that it will have “Derp” or some synonym for “stupid” in it.

Second - very much connected to the first one - tip would be to have a range in what a character with amblyopia can be. Again, there's more roles in stories than “comic relief”, “creepy old person”, and “this character doesn't actually have strabismus but I think it's funny for them to have it for this one drawing xD so random lol they have googly eyes”. Be creative.

The love interest can have hypertropia, the scientist can have exotropia, the ancient deity can be cross-eyed, the Mysterious Superhero can have hypotropia. Try to think outside the box of what characters get strabismus. If you want to do something awesome and never-seen-before, have multiple characters with amblyopia. Almost all media seem to have a cap on the number of cross-eyed characters set at 1 for some reason.

Other things cool to include would be mannerisms. A character with amblyopia will probably squint and tilt their head a lot to see better. I often close one of my eyes when I have to read smaller text or do something where I need precise depth perception.

For some people, glasses “fix” their amblyopia when they have them on. This can potentially work when the cause is a refractive error, mostly being very far-sighted. If it's caused by something else then they will probably have it visible all the time and everyone will have it visible when not wearing glasses.

Last thing, related to the previous point, is to consider why they have it. Most people will have theirs because of strabismus and refractive errors, but it could also be because the weaker eye is blind, because their eyelid droops, or be otherwise associated with the one billion conditions that cause strabismus. So while it's completely fine for them to just have it because of their eyes being crossed, they could also have it because of congenital cataracts or cerebral palsy. If you have multiple characters with amblyopia, you could have them have different disabilities (e.g., main character has a cranial nerve disease while their wife has Down syndrome).

I hope this helps,

mod Sasza

[infoactionratio7]

call it fate, call it carmen pt. 3 - c. berzatto

summary: carmy and the pretty girl from the cafe visit one of the chef's favorite restaurants in the city. they end the night with a question of what is to come next for the two of them.

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem! teacher! reader

word count: 2350

note: to read the other parts click here! basically carmy is showing off that he knows a bunch of restaurant owners bc he's famous and thinks he's super cool, lots of food talk, the usual! very cute fluffy nothing crazy. this is the last part el oh el. i hope u all liked this mini series. (sorry it took so unnecessarily long to write i hope u all like it ♡ )

The smell of aromatic spices and cold air hit you as Carmy led you into the restaurant. The lighting was dim but still pleasantly warm, you were in awe of the decor. The traditional japanese architecture mixed with the modern vibes of all the restaurants you had seen Carmy following on Instagram. The host led the two of you into a dim lighted honeycomb looking wall full of booths, Carmy beamed at you seeing your fascination with the setting. He stayed behind you, placing his hand on your hip as the two of you walked up the steps into the booth. Shivers seemed to run down your spine at the delicate touch.

"Here you are, someone will be over in a second to help you" The host smiled at the two of you warmly, they placed the menus on the table. You scooted into the booth, the wooden walls surrounding you creating an isolated booth for the two of you.

Carmy sat down at the booth, he shook his coat off his broad sholders, exposing the white chef's shirt underneath. Of course he was wearing it, the only shirt you had seen him wear each time you had the pleasure of seeing him. Not that you were complaining, his tattooed arms looked beautiful in the dim light.

"Now" Carmy grabs the menu and says your name softly, "My brother helped this guy start the business, there were a few guys wanting to buy this place up for some laundromat years ago, but they ended up dropping it for this resturant to buy the place." He had been scanning the menu, you had yet to open yours up, knowing he would pick the best option for the two of you. You gazed at him as he intently looked at the menu, there had never been someone who you felt this way about before. It was so simple, to bring you to a resturant and pick out your food. But the fact he was just doing it, because he wanted to impress you made it even more attractive.

The server came up to your table, you ordered water and Carmy did the same, wanting to stay sober for the night to get to know each other better in the right headspace.

"What are you gonna get for us Carmen?" you smiled while his gaze met yours, his blue eyes piercing as they scanned your face. His lip quirked up in a smile, "You know I think that is gonna have to be a surprise. I just know you are gonna like it though." As the server walked up to your table with the water glasses, Carmy brought the menu up to his face, hiding the order from you. You giggled at his antics, making the order a surprise just for you. He gave the menu to the server and the server smiled gently at you, and bringing up their serving booklet to shield their words from the man they mouthed, "You've got a keeper."

As they walked away, you made eye contact with Carmy, "What are you up to Berzatto, you have a sneaky look on your face?" He took a sip of his water then leaned in close to you, grabbing your free hand on the counter "You'll see" He grinned from ear to ear, "now why don't you tell me a little more about yourself huh?"

His hand was so warm, yours ice cold in his palm, the drastic change in temperature came as a shock to you. His touch felt so comforting, the rough calluses from years of working in the kitchen gave you butterflies. He had been through so much in his career, there was so much admiration you had for his past culinary escapades. And the thought of possibly accompanying him in any future was swimming around your head. You forgot where you were for a second, coming to after you felt some pressure on your hand, a squeeze from the chef sitting in front of you. "I lost you for a sec, what were you thinking about?" You realized you had been silent for more than a minute, shaking your head you replied, "Sorry, sorry, I totally zoned out, just thinking about some stuff, it doesn't matter" He looked suspicious but acted like he just didn't care, moving on.

"Oh yeah, let me tell you some stuff about myself um..." You looked up and around trying to think of something interesting, "I used to watch Gilmore Girls and then write down all the different jokes I liked so I could say them at school and people would like me more if I was as funny as I thought they were. It never really worked but my mom said she always liked the jokes!" Blushing, you looked down, laughing at yourself, reluctantly letting go of Carmy's hand and burying your face into your palms. Parting your pointer and middle finger you peaked through. Carmy was laughing, and laughing hard, the man seemed hysterical, his eyes squinting because he was laughing so, so much. "I cannot believe I just told you that, holy shit that's so embarrassing"

"That is so fucking funny, how old were you?"

"I was 6"

He fidgeted with the utensils on the place setting, "I would have loved to know you at six" He laughed and shook his head, "I don't have anything as embarrassing as that to tell you but one time I did drop the whole pan of ricotta polpette during christmas dinner and my mom took every single toy in my room and put it in our freezer in the basement that I was terrified of because I thought a yeti lived there." He looked so happy talking about his childhood, "My brother, Mikey, came with me and his airsoft gun to go into the freezer to help me get them back just in case the yeti tried to attack us."

You covered your mouth as you laughed, he glowed, recounting a simpler time than now. His smile dropped, thinking about the past christmas, not wanting to remember how horrible it ended up. You could tell something was wrong, and wanting to change the subject, you cleared your throat.

"So, Carmen, when am I gonna get to try your cooking?" He lightened up, excited to talk about his career again. "I mean, you bring me out to a restaurant but I want to try some of those famous family recipes. They have to be good it seems like it's important to your family" You smiled at him, giving him a once over, his hair was a mess but he was so beautiful, it just did not matter.

"I promise you can try my food soon, I hope it's not too much for you though, I'm sure you've never had true italian cooking like mine" You rolled your eyes.

"You're from Chicago."

He tilts his head gazing at you, "And?"

"There is no way your 'true italian cooking' is that accurate, come on."

He looked at you like you had just taken all your clothes off, "That is the most insulting thing you could have said to me." He grabs his chest and leans forward with a pained look on his face, "You are breakin my heart already, we've barely been on one date and I'm already close to death." He dramatically gasped and met your gaze with a toothy smile.

"Oh shut up Carmen"

"Never" He says your name, just as the server comes back with a few dishes in hand.

They set a bowl in front of you, full of soup dumplings, but soup dumplings in the shape of little hearts, the thinly sliced radishes around the rim of the bowl as a garnish, also shaped as hearts. You looked up at the man grinning in front of you. There was nothing to say, this was the cutest gesture you had ever experienced on a date in your entire life.

"Carmen are you kidding, these are the most precious things I've ever seen in my life how in the world did you get them to do this, oh my god," He was still grinning, so proud of himself for making you smile. "Like I said, I know the owner." He shrugged and looked up at the server, thanking them as they smiled, and walked away.

"These are too cute to eat I can't" He looked at the dumplings, then met your eyes, "I think the biggest insult to me right now would be if you did not eat these dumplings right now, so please I need you to enjoy them." He picked up the utensils and encouraged you to start eating. While the two of you ate, Carmy told you about the past few months he had experienced, from moving back home to dealing with all the new people in the restaurant, and his mom not reaching out to him so he could see her, the group he had been going to that his sister recommended, and dealing with the money problems at the restaurant. He revealed so much to you, you shared stories about your family. The friends you had lost in your life and some of your biggest hardships, finally making it to teach in the best school you could ask for with all the best kids. You could not help but fall into his eyes, as he spoke about all the experiences he had in his life, he put his whole heart onto the table in front of you. The chef even shared some of his food with you, the gyoza he ordered for himself was delicious. You both finished the food in what seemed like hours. You felt as if you had been in this restaurant for a lifetime, experiencing Carmen.

"You ready," Carmy glanced at you, with the bill in hand, opening your mouth to protest paying for your half, he raised his hand and shook his hand. "I am not letting you pay for this, I will pay and you will be happy and let me treat you to dinner."

"But Carmen you bought me that baklava and I need to repay you please, please, please" You put your hands together begging him to just let you pay for your half of dinner at the very least.

He said your name like an impatient parent, "I will not let you pay, you can pay for the rest of the dates we ever go on if you just let me pay for this one time, okay?" This made you blush, the idea of Carmy thinking about you and him going on more dates than this one made you feel warm inside. You sank down into the booth, and with a groan of protest you shook your head and gave up.

"Thank you, I want you to feel unbothered tonight." He handed the bill back to the server after he had signed his name and got up. He got your coat for you, holding it out for you to walk into it. Getting up he pulled it up and over your shoulders, grabbing your upper arms, kissing the side of your head next to your ear, "Lets get out of here" He whispered and let go of you, putting his own coat on.

The two of you walked out of the restaurant, Carmy angled his elbow out for you to hold, you grabbed onto him and held on tight. You looked at him with a smile on your face, this was the best first date you had ever been on. As you walked the two of you continued the conversation you had not finished in the restaurant, talking about anything and everything. You could see the sign for The Beef a block away, wondering why he ended up taking you back here. As you reached the restaurant, Carmy stopped on the bench in front and sat down, inviting you to sit with him as he pulled out a cigarette, "Do you mind?" You shook your head, sitting close next to him, sharing body heat. He lit the cigarette, took a drag and exhaled. Looking relaxed. You grabbed his arm and rested your head on his shoulder, feeling him tense up before relaxing into your touch.

You looked up at the sky, seeing your breath as you exhaled and breathed in Carmy, he definitely put some type of cologne on but it had faded out so much it was just a hint you could smell. All you could tell was that this was a smell you wanted to be enveloped in forever. You heard your name softly, picking your head up and turning it to face your date. "Yeah Carm?"

He leaned forward and captured your lips in his, the taste cigarette and mint as he held your face with his non-occupied hand. It was like you were seeing stars for the first time, you could feel his excitement as he moved his tongue along your bottom lip. It was a mess of teeth, tongue, and lips. Carmy pulled away and leaned his forehead on yours, beaming. "You called me Carm." Giggling you looked into his eyes, the blue seemed even more beautiful up close, you could get used to this. "Well I think if I'm going to be around you more I might as well call you by one of your oh so amazing nicknames" He chuckled pecking your lips once more, pulling away and taking one more drag of his cigarette. Throwing the butt onto the floor, putting it out with his heel. You put a hand onto his thigh, squeezing.

"I think I really like you Carm"

"I think I really like you too"

The two of you held onto each other for a while, enjoying the sounds of the city as you chatted. Eventually you got up, Carmy walked you home, dropping you at your doorstep and wishing you a good night. As you walked up to the apartment, you realized that finding him was not a coincidence.

It had to be fate.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

I wouldn't really agree that boys are just arm candy in magical girl shows and only there to look cute. Yeah, sure the girls' friendships are the focus, but the boys are usually very much involved in the plot and most shows do explore their feelings about the odd things that happen due to magical shenanigans even if they aren't in the know (It's why ML baffles me even more with how they screwed up Adren's arc when he's the deuteragonist, when all these boys are supporting cast and get well rounded arcs)

I'm not much of a winx fan, but the specialists were very much not arm candy. Did the girls talk about them being cute? Yes, it's what teenage girls do. Did the narrative suggest they were good looking? Yes, but that's standard for most love interests in any genre. But we still got scenes with them talking amongst themselves about how they themselves feel and they got a fair share of badass fight scenes even if they wield no magic. A large amount of episodes actually included the boys and girls working as a team solving a mystery or fighting a villain. The girls might deal the finishing blow but the boys were still integral to the plot.

I hope this doesn't come across as hate, it definitely wasn't my intention. I'm just a bit too passionate about the magical girl genre.

I do think you have a good point with ML having a problem choosing a genre or blending two genres successfully.

For the CCS fans, I will add though that Cardcaptor Sakura had both Tomoyo and Syaoran serve as sources of motivation for Sakura. And both Sakura and Syaoran collecting cards even if Sakura is the only one who could seal them and yet never made you question whether Syaoran was even necessary for the job the way ml does with Chat.

I wasn't trying to say that boys have no part to play in magical girl team shows or that they're always treated as having no lives beyond the girls, that's why I mentioned that the Winx Club boys - aka, the Specialists - have their own (mostly off screen) lives and occasionally show up help the girls:

the boys are usually off doing their own thing and only occasionally show up for a date or to give the girls a ride on their cool bikes or magical spaceship

Even then, this is certainly a simplification of the roles that they play in the story, but I kind of had to simplify their roles down to their base components for the original post's discussion as I was talking in broad strokes of how these stories are written.

In terms of those broad strokes, the Specialists are absolutely only there for shipping fodder. That's why each one is assigned to a girl from the start and why their main role in the narrative is supporting their assigned love interest or causing relationship-based drama for their assigned love interest. If it weren't for shipping, then the Specialists would not exist.

While the Specialists do have fleshed out characters and may even effect the plot, the execution of those elements is designed around the girls. A really obvious example of this is the character Timmy, who has character development as the boy's tech guy. Why is he into technology? Because he's the designated love interest for the fairy of Technology and we have to show why they're a good match. Along similar lines, the boys don't really get plots that are removed from the girls because this is the girl's show. Every episode features one or more of the Winx, but the boys are optional and often don't appear.

This is because, narratively speaking, the boys are just love interests and that brings us back to Miraculous' big problem. You can't have a show where Adrien is written like a Specialist while also being part of the Winx Club and where Alya is written like she's part of the Winx Club while technically being more of a Specialist in terms of power set and actual narrative role.

I'm was thinking back to my memories of various Winx Club plots to find one that really highlighted what I mean here and I remembered that one of the big dramas in season one was the reveal that Bloom's love interest - Sky - was in an arranged marriage and had just never told her. As it turns out, that's a great example of what I'm talking about re Adrien!

Is that plot line technically based around Sky and letting his life effect the plot? Sure, but the fallout of that reveal revolves around Bloom, not Sky. The story doesn't really care how Sky's feeling as the conflict progresses. Instead, it focuses on how it affects Bloom and her friends because of course it does! She's the main character. It would be really weird if that plot suddenly focused on her side character love interest and his friends during one of her darkest hours/biggest moments.

Think of that and then consider how the ending of season five is written. Notice any similarities? Sure, this is Adrien's family drama, but because he's just a Specialist, the focus isn't on him. It's on Winx Club member Marinette and Adrien only shows up at the end for a kiss. That is the problem. That is what I'm talking about when I say that Miraculous will randomly write him as if we're watching a magical girl team show where Adrien is just the love interest.

In fact, let's really dig into this example because it's a good one.

You can have a look at the transcript for the finale episode of Miraculous season five here and see for yourself that Adrien doesn't even show up on screen until the final scenes when the big drama is over. The Winx Club wiki also has episode transcripts, so I took a look to see what happened in Winx land during the arranged marriage reveal plot (I love that this is a thing. It's so useful for fact checking myself!) This is the script for the episode after Bloom learns the truth. Sky does not appear even though his lies and family drama are the fuel for this episode's events, which are a major part of the season's arc. Note how perfectly that matches Adrien's writing?

Similarly, Sky's dialogue in the reveal episode is all about Bloom. He's worried about her learning the truth and thinking less of him. To match that, here's Adrien's only real dialogue in the penultimate episode of season five (full transcript):

Adrien:(Covers his ears.) I cannot transform... (Looks at his ring and tries taking it off.) Plagg: What are you doing?! Adrien: I'm not in my right mind. I'm too angry — at myself for falling short of Marinette's love, at my father for sending me here in London, at this stupid app and these rings that use my image... it makes me sick! This nightmare is giving me the horrible feeling that, if I transform, I'll get akumatized and destroy everything with my Cataclysm — Marinette, Ladybug... (Takes off the ring and hands it to Plagg.)

Switching back to Winx. After Bloom learns the truth about Sky, bad things happen because she's depressed. This results in her and the Winx going off on a journey to learn the truth of who Bloom is. After the girls share this big plot moment and Bloom gets her mojo back, the boys show up to be their ride home and to give Bloom her romance moment where Sky wins her back by declaring that he broke off the arranged married because he loves her.

Sky notably doesn't get an arc about choosing between his arranged marriage and his true love. We don't even know that the marriage is broken off until he tells Bloom because that was never really a conflict as far as the narrative was concerned. Of course he's going to pick Bloom! He's her designated side character love interest! He only exists to be with her. We don't need to treat this as a serious thing for him. The arranged marriage plot was never about him anyway. It was about giving Bloom a reason to have a darkest hour moment that moves the plot forward. Similarly, Sky calling off the marriage is nowhere near as important as him telling Bloom that he's called off the marriage to be with her in a grand romantic gesture.

This perfectly mirrors Miraculous' season five ending where Adrien doesn't appear until after Marinette is done fighting her big girl power fight against his father. As far as the writing is concerned, that fight isn't about him. His connection to the villain only really matters in terms of how it affects Marinette's actions during the final battle. Then, when the battle is over, Adrien shows up to give Marinette her big romance moment because, while the plot may be driven by Adrien's family, he is not a Winx club member. He's just a Specialist. Or, in the words of the head writer:

[image text: She's Barbie, he's Ken. You don't like it. I get it. It won't change. Anything else?] (The full, even more damning context of this tweet can be found here.)

What else can I say other than, "I rest my case."

Oh, and also that I didn't take this as an attack. I just thought it was a good opportunity to really dig into the nuances of this and what I was talking about in that original post as I never know how obvious this stuff is if you don't closely study story telling. As this case study hopefully shows, if a show is about a group of girl friends using the power of friendship, then their love interests may have important roles, but the boys are never going to be more important than the girls and most of the boy's screen time will be focused on romance and how their existence effects the girls because it's ultimately the girls' world. Without them, the show wouldn't exist. Without the boys? Well, then we just wouldn't have a romance plot.

[thatneoncrisis]

oooh ok feel free to ignore this since it isn't the ask game technically, but how do you feel tamsyn pulls punches with john? where do you think that could improve? i'm curious and i love hearing ur analysis of this stuff

ok so this is just my own personal opinion. but after reading the series like three times ive basically come to the consensus that tamsyn is much more in tune with writing john as kiwi and not as maori

and its not that is completely erased from the text. but you REALLY have to hunt for it as opposed to him being kiwi which is incredibly obvious in the way he talks about his old life in ntn. i dont think i would have even known he was maori if she didnt say gideon was and i was actively looking for it. but she kind of treats characters being indigenous as like a cool fun fact rather than an active part of their identity. and this is related to a much longer and more draining conversation about how race/ethnicity even WORKS in the empire which is set 10000 years in the future. we as a society Right Now cant even agree on what race cleopatra was do you like. get what im saying

anyway what im trying to get at is the empire, designed and run by One Guy, the Only person who remembers earth culture, actively deciding to model its systems of government, religion, military, language and aesthetics after staples of western imperialism (like most of the names are pulled from greek or roman or biblical figures) is one thing. because i understand the books are actively christian, tamsyn is catholic theres like Commentary on those elements. but there is no commentary as to why a polynesian guy would Actively gatekeep his own culture from a world HE made. they are clearly speaking english, gideons name had to be TRANSLATED to kiriona, theres a decent chance shes not even pronouncing it correctly. thats fucking insane. the characters in tlt are living in a cultural genocide by magnitudes that we cannot even comprehend and they cant even like. talk about it they cant THINK about it. the text hasnt given them time to. does he think theyre not worth it? why not? these are questions the text isnt interested in asking let alone answering

even when theres an opportunity for contrast, ie new rho, its all done in broad strokes of vague descriptions of Other cultures. we suffer speaks in accented house. what accent? pyrrha can speak 4 languages including house to varying degrees. what languages? she makes pikelets in the morning this is obviously a very nz/aussie thing, so this wartorn city Also has them theyre just a universal constant. new rho is just kind of described as Apocalypse Desert City, it could look like fucking LA for all i know and nothing would change

tldr tamsyn wrote very good kiwi characters and im obviously talking as someone who isnt kiwi but Is not white but her like aversion or indifference to writing inarguably indigenous characters in a way outside of their physical appearance wrt how it informs their ideals and motivations could be more. just More. this is literally one of the most insanely cruel things john has done and nobody in universe can even call him on it because hes scrubbed all traces of it from existence what if we exploded

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #16] Overindulging

warnings: just a lovely little fluffy chapter!! breakfast food!! chatting about jaykay's big dreams!! we visit yoongi and he calls us out on our bullshit of being besties!! a very cursed bird falls </3

a/n: our first calamity of the purge - i cannot find the header image for this chapter ANYWHERE :( i've checked both laptops and my phone, know the exact date it was orginally posted (nov 20, 2022 if ur curious) and yet nothing - there's actually a few around this period which are lost in the void </3 the og was one of my fave headers too :( it had a cute lil market stall :( waaa

soundtrack: wish on an eyelash - mallrat

wc: 5.3k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

"So you really quit then, huh?" Jeongguk mumbles, before blowing against the top of his coffee. It's steaming hot, the cold air of a fast-approaching winter not enough to cool it down.

The pair of you walk by the canal that runs through the city; Jeongguk in his gym gear, his skin still a little clammy from his session, you in a pair of comfy sweats despite the fact you haven't worked out at all.

It's a Sunday, and neither of you slept much last night. He'd been behind the bar, and you'd been on the other side, disco balls in your eyes and trouble in the tequila smile that you were greeting him with every five minutes. It's not your fault that he was the most interesting guy in the bar all night.

You nod, taking a sip on your americano - still iced (because "warm coffee is for pussies" ).

"Wasn't getting my money's worth," you explain, but he knows this perfectly well. You only ever went to the gym to grumble about how much you hated it. That, and to pretend like you weren't looking at him in the mirror whenever he took off his lifting belt. He caught you every single time, but he'd grown to enjoy how shamesless you'd become with it. "Plus Danbi's finally nagged me into joining her pole class, so I'm-"

"Shut up," Jeongguk laughs, cutting you off with his exclamation. He briefly stops in his tracks. Looks at you all lovely and bemused. "You're not?"

You're almost offended by his disbelief.

"Oh, but I am, Jeon," you grin. It's not how you ever thought you'd get your primary source of exercise, but Danbi's core muscles have never looked better. You figure may as well give it a try. "Had my first class yesterday afternoon."

"Did you?" He asks, only waiting for a small hum before he questions you further. "How was it? Have fun?"

Truthfully, you've never been so quickly humbled. Danbi and the other girls in the class make it look effortless. It's a small group, and they've all been lovely and overwhelmingly encouraging, but you can't help but feel out of your depth.

"The pole spins," you tell him, because you can't believe you were the only person who didn't realise that. "Always thought it was the people spinning, but nope. Just the pole."

"What?!" He almost chokes, just as confused as you had been yesterday.

"My thoughts exactly! So yeah, that helps," you acknowledge, nudging his arm to push him in the direction of the street market.

It runs up a lane, connecting the canal to the main street, and has been active for hundreds of years. Old traders would dock their boats on the canal and set up shop down the alleyway, away from the prying eyes of the law enforcement looking for black market traders. These days, it's all flowers and produce, with the occasional hotteok stand during the winter.

Jeongguk's bag rustles as he hikes it a little further up his broad shoulder, sniffing sharply to clear his nose. It's the first sign of a winter cold, and he regrets not wearing a coat, now.

You're babbling on about your class, and how your legs have never been more bruised. You're not even sure he's really listening, but you don't mind. There's no pressure for him to retain this information, no pop quiz coming later.

You just enjoy each other's company. Talk about nonsense because you can. It's like you're playing a game of sims, prattling to one another just to make those little green plus marks hover above your head, your socialising bar restoring to full health.

"Honestly, you should see my legs - I look like a bloody watercolour painting. All purple and blue."

"Oh, yeah?" he finally responds with a teasing grin, glancing over to you as you meander towards a flower stall. It's small, but overflowing with native flowers. Considering how cold it's becoming and how orange the leaves are on the trees that line the river, it's nice to see some green. "Maybe next time I'm at the cafe, you'll have to live model for me."

You stop in your tracks. Bunch your face up like an old newspaper, as if he's just said the most offensive thing you've ever heard, and then you scoff.

Jeongguk turns to look at you fully, a goofy little smile on his pretty lips (though you really ought to stop thinking of his lips as being pretty ), and raises a brow. He's baiting you out. Teasing you. Was deliberately looking for a reaction like this, because he finds them funny.

Folding your arms, you knock your shoulder against him as you walk past and say, "you're never seeing me naked."

" Again ," he calls after you. "Never seeing you naked again ."

The ajumma sitting by her stall just a metre away, with her homegrown cucumbers and cabbages, scowls in Jeongguk's direction. Tuts beneath her breath. Looks away as he turns to apologise, his cheeks flaming red like they always do when he's had too much soju.

He's not had a drop all week, though. He's been working hard, and studying even harder. It's all work, no play. The walk home from the gym is the most free-time he's indulged in since he left your apartment last week.

You had been right in saying that the water pressure of his shower is far better than yours - but he'd insisted on showering at yours regardless. Together. Just friendly. Like you normally do. Didn't want to have to explain things to Jimin. Is still not exactly sure even he knows how to understand your friendship - just that he likes it, and he doesn't want to lose it.

He also likes the scent of your shampoo. Rummaged around in Jimin's old haircare stuff for a shower cap just so he could preserve it for an extra day. Doesn't tell you this though, as he thinks it's a bit weird.

Probably just as weird as the way you'd rearranged your pillows that night just to keep the scent of his aftershave close. You tell yourself it's a comfort thing. In all actuality, it most likely is.

"I can't believe you shouted that-"

"I didn't shout!"

"- In front of that poor old lady," you hiss beneath your breath as he finally catches up with you, now holding a cabbage. "Why do you have-"

"Felt bad. Bought a cabbage from her."

"The fuck are you gonna do with a cabbage?"

He shrugs. "Eat it?"

Nonchalant in the way he approaches life, Jeongguk feels like a summer breeze even as temperatures begin to dip below a comfortable level. You've got a heat pack in your pocket, and when Jeongguk sniffs again, you pass it over to him. Think that he needs it more. He tells you it's okay, and that it's fine, so you just stuff it in his pocket despite his protests.

By the time you've reached the end of the alley, Jeongguk is the one ignoring your protests as he pushes you forwards into a cafe. The buttery scent of fresh pastries is so heavenly that you're half convinced you did actually die of embarrassment when he announced his awareness of your bare skin to the entire neighbourhood.

Various loaves of bread line the counter towards the front of the shop, golden brown and just begging for you to buy every single one of them. Pastries, cakes, too. It's overwhelming.

"They do the best french toast," he promises you - and how can you refuse?

You're practically salivating as Jeongguk plonks you down by the window of the only free booth. It's tucked away slightly, but offers the perfect people-watching spot - which is why it's his favourite seat in the entire cafe. He tells you to wait there while he orders at the counter.

You're too busy people-watching, but you notice the lack of his presence. The cafe feels duller. Less warm. Less inviting. Less... like home. He's taking longer than you thought he would.

Perhaps there was a queue? You can't see from your vantage point - but, eventually, you can see Jeongguk as he comes to stand in front of the window with a closed-lip smile, his silver ring flipping in the corner of his mouth. In his hand is a small bouquet of posies. Wildflowers, you think, from the stall down the other end of the alley. He must have sprinted. The way his chest heaves a little confirms this.

"For you," he says as he comes to sit opposite you a moment later, holding them out for you to take. There's a variety of flowers in the bunch, tied with a white ribbon, but you don't know the name of any of them. You just know that they're beautiful. He senses your confusion, so he clarifies. "An apology. Sorry for telling the entire street I've seen your tits."

You narrow your eyes. Tilt your head. Jeongguk thinks you look like a little puppy. Tells you so.

"Careful, or you'll have to buy me more to make up for the fact you just called me a dog," you tease as he places a small black disk down on the table. It's from the front counter, given to him when ordered the food. On the side, a bright red 07 lets you know your order number.

"I like dogs," he says as he shakes his hoodie off, tucking it over the back of his chair. "It's a compliment."

Sometimes, you forget Jeongguk has tattoos. His eyes are so doe-like, his nature so tepid and warm, that the idea of him engaging in anything remotely painful shocks you - but you've also seen how hard he goes at the gym, and have also felt his firm grip on your body. You know he most likely finds pleasure in a little pain.

They trail up his arm, thick intricate lines mapping out his identity for all to see - or at least the parts of him he doesn't mind other people knowing. If you didn't know Jeongguk, you'd be able to learn a lot about him from his arms - right down to the fact that one of them covered in ink, while the other is pristine and free of it. He's a man of two halves, and you're lucky enough you get to indulge in both.

"What?" He grins when he realises you're contemplating something.

"Just not sure I forgive you," you tease, crossing your arms in an attempt to make it look like you weren't reminding yourself of the way his fingers - the ones with the tattoos - feel inside of you. It was only a brief thought, but any thoughts like that outside the confines of a fallen bird are dangerous, you decide.

"Got you flowers, got you brunch - what more do you need?!"

You sharply inhale some air, teeth gritted, eyes to the sky in contemplation. "More compliments."

Jeongguk has to try really hard not to roll his eyes. He looks around, as if he's scared someone will hear him, licks the corner his of mouth and shakes his head.

" Fine . I like your outfit."

"Pathetic," you say almost immediately. "If I wanted appearance compliments, I'd go on tinder."

"You have tinder?"

"Give me something that's actually a compliment. Something none of my tinder boys could say."

"You have tinder boys?"

"And girls," you shrug.

The truth of the matter is that you have neither at the moment. The app lies dormant on your phone, unused because you just can't be arsed with the hassle. There are only so many times you can be asked if you're 'open-minded ' or if you live alone. As much as you don't mind hooking up with strangers in bars, you hate meeting people off of apps. It's too much pressure.

Still, you don't let Jeongguk derail the conversation, although you can see that behind his eyes there are some cogs turning. Whatever he's thinking will take a while to formulate. You know what he's like now; how he likes to think things through before he says them.

"So," you lift a shoulder, lazily shrugging. "Compliment?"

He reclines back into his chair. Finds himself narrowing his eyes like you so often do. You're challenging him, and he's weighing up how much of a chance he has of winning. Thinks his odds are pretty high.

"Tae couldn't have sorted out his art show without you."

As much as you wanna pretend like it isn't exactly the sort of thing you wanted to hear, a smile forms on your face. Acknowledgement of your hard work is always appreciated. You press your lips together, but still, a smug grin prevails.

"Nah, seriously, Byeol," he adds on. "Thank you. I mean it. It's been Tae's dream since I met him. You've no idea how cool it is to watch all of this happen."

"I played a tiny part," you smile, secretly enamoured with how happy he is for his friend's success.

It's a trait that says a lot about Jeongguk. Who he is as a person. Makes it all the more clearer as to why he's so keen on helping you with your issues. He wants the people he cares about to thrive, no matter the circumstance.

"So? The nozzle is a tiny part of a fountain gun," he says, making reference to the bar he works behind. "But without it? The drink would go everywhere. It's important. You're important."

"You're giving me far too much credit," you deflect, a little embarrassed, now.

He shakes his head. "I'm not giving you enough."

He holds your gaze for a moment. Wants you to know that he really does mean what he's saying. He wouldn't bother hyping you up if he didn't genuinely think it. He knows Tae well, and knows he has enough drive to make his dreams come true, but he had been drawing blanks recently - until you came along.

It's not just the space of the art cafe that's helped, but you willingness to help market it, get the news out to local artist circles that Tae wasn't privvy to. You've taken insurmontable wieghts from his shoulders. All Jeongguk could do was put posters up in the bathroom stalls of Dionysus.

"What about you?" You ask, wanting to move the focus away from yourself. "What's your big dream?"

He goes to speak, but is cut off the by the small black disk with a flashing 07 on the side of it. The vibration tone is so loud that it actually makes him jump.

"Hold that thought," he says as he heads off to the counter to retrieve the food, leaving you to watch the window once more - but you find yourself glancing in the mirror that's up on the back wall.

The woman at the counter smiles at him, and you see him bow slightly as he says thank you. His manners are never forgotten.

You bet he's the kind of customer the girl behind the counter will daydream about coming in again. A takeaway order, maybe. He'll stand by the till and wait for it, chitchatting with her. She'd hope he would enjoy her company and make himself a repeat customer. One day, eventually, he'd ask what she's doing after work. Ask if she wants to grab a drink, or something.

But Jeongguk is Jeongguk. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn't.

You know this.

Still, you find yourself dreaming up this little hypothetical life for him; one in which his fears don't exist anymore.

When he returns, he pretends he didn't see you looking.

"Samgyeopsal," he simply states, as he organises the plates to make them look pretty, just in case you wanna take a picture.

"What of it?"

He's proven right as you pull your phone out and open up the camera. Tweaking a plate ever so slightly, you're impressed with his arrangement. He's got an eye for composition. You're less impressed with the fact he sticks his middle finger up in the background of your shot.

"Child," you scold. He just sticks his tongue out to further solidify your point.

"Well," he hums as he redistributes the plates and hands you some cutlery. "I really enjoy working at the bar, but I hate not being able to make big decisions about what happens there - here -" He passes you the tiny jar of syrup that came with your french toast. "- and so I'd like to own my own place. Thing is, I really fucking love samgyeopsal."

"Oh yeah?" You laugh at how much he exaggerates his tone.

"Love it more than maybe anything else on this planet."

"Even me?"

"Oh, especially you."

"Rude."

"Shut up," he laughs, focusing his attention on his croque monsieur. "Anyways, I think it would be really cool to have my own joint, yanno? Decorate how I like, serve my favourite side dishes. Get a good team working for me - probably would poach Yeonjun from the bar."

"He'd do well in a restaurant," you nod. "Good people person."

"Exactly," Jeongguk beams, thinking about the prospects all over again. "I even know the exact building I wanna be in."

"Really?"

"Mhmm," he confirms, swallowing down a bite of warm bread and cheese - no ham ,though. They really scrimped on the ham. He'd never scrimp on meat in his place. When you notice how furrowed his brows are, as if he's furious for how delicious his food is, you smile. "Few streets over from your work. There's been a vacant unit next to the makgeolli bar for a little while. I've registered my interest, but like - I'm still in fucking school." He laughs now. It's all a bit of a pipe dream. "I need to speak with investors. Raise funds. That's what scares me the most."

"Oh?" You encourage him, not wanting to interrupt his train of thought - and also not wanting to stop eating. He was right. The french toast is to die for.

"I know all of the hospitality tricks," he continues. "Been working long enough to know how to run a place on the people side of things, but I'm a bit out of my depth when it comes to business."

"Do you not cover that at school?" You question with genuine curiosity. "Thought you were under the business faculty?"

"I am," he nods, pleased that you have apparently been listening to him. "But you can only be taught so much, yanno? Nothing compares to actually experiencing it. It's the little things, like bank meetings, and shit. That's what's scaring me."

Funny. You'd never really considered that Jeongguk's fear of rejection could trickle down so far into his bones. It's like he's fearful nothing he wants is a viable option - career path included.

"Have you spoken to Yoongi?" You ask, mindlessly soaking up the maple syrup on your plate with a chunk of french toast. "He's got his own studio, right? He's gone through this process?"

Jeongguk nods. "Something similar, I suppose. Hospitality is a little different to what he does. I think technically - when it comes to tax and shit - he's listed as a construction worker?"

He laughs, and shakes his head. Has seen Yoongi painstakingly craft the most beautifully ornate home furnishings. Thinks he couldn't be further from a construction worker if he tried (though Yoongi would argue that the red pine hanoks he built with his own bare hands beg to differ).

"To be fair," he considers, "I actually need to pop by Yoongi's on my way home."

"Oh?"

"There's some work to do at the bar out back. Boss wants to convert the little courtyard next to the staff room into the smoking area, and change the existing smoking area into a patio bar," Jeongguk sighs as he rolls his eyes. He thinks they may as well just add a bar to the existing smoking area and leave the courtyard free - mainly because he likes to hide there on the nights he can't be fucked with punters. Only for a minute or so. Maybe five minutes. No longer than ten. Apart from that one time he fell asleep, but that's neither here nor there. "Doesn't wanna hire workers though, so yours truly has been tasked with the job. Gonna get Yoongi's advice on it."

You nod. Remind yourself of what Jeongguk looks like with a lifting belt on, and replace it in your mind with a tool belt. Press your lips together. Your legs, too.

"What?" He asks, when you shift away from him slightly.

"Oh, no, nothing," you smile, deflecting. "Just really good food."

He narrows his eyes. Chooses not to press. Has no idea that you're getting yourself all flustered because of him . Instead, he hauls the conversation forward - asks you about your dreams instead, where you want to end up in life. It's a big question, you tell him, and he agrees - but he finds fantasising about future possibilities fun. Gets you thinking in hypotheticals. Lottery wins, winning a free trip to a country of your choice, only having one day to live - that kind of shit.

The conversation carries on for far too long. Brunch is long gone, and Jeongguk suggests another drink not once, but twice. Orders some french toast for himself, and gets you a cake from the counter even though you insisted on not wanting anything, just because he doesn't wanna eat alone.

Midafternoon sun encroaches on your window spot, and he finds himself grinning whenever the glitter catches in the light. There are a few rogue specks that have strayed from your eyes. He leaves the ones on your cheeks alone, but reaches over and dusts off the ones that are on your forehead. Says nothing as he does so. You just let him, and continue talking.

He can encroach on your personal space and recieve zero complaints. You're comfortable. The significance isn't lost on him, but it is tucked away into a safe part of brain, not to be distrubed for the time being.

Once he's done with his french toast (and also done complaining about the fact he's eaten so much he might die ), you head on your way.

There's a chill to the air that wasn't present earlier, and you know that you're gonna have to start wrapping up a lot warmer soon. You hate how quickly summer turns into winter - autumn is far too fleeting.

As soon as the leaves turn golden brown, they've fallen, only for the snow to fall just as quickly as soon as the New Year arrives. You've a month or so to go.

"Best season," Jeongguk says as he kicks a few leaves that are brittle and brown, settled on the pathway, crunching beneath his feet. He loves the rustle of autumn leaves.

Loves the blossom season in spring, too, and will swear that it's his favourite season instead come April.

The cycles of life; evidence that life goes on, always. No matter how defeatist he can be, no matter how much he can fear the variables of the future, it's proof that there invariably will be one.

He leads you through a twisted road of alleys, that you'd no doubt get lost in without him, before eventually reaching Yoongi's studio. "I'll be quick, promise."

And how can you refuse? You owe him for the food, and know that he absolutely will not accept it when you try and pay him back, so not kicking up a fuss or complaining is the least you can do. It's not like you have plans for the afternoon. Had sort of figured you'd spend it hanging out with him anyways.

You're also really nosey. Are intrigued by Min's. Wanna see inside the studio, to see if it looks like how you've imagined it to(though you have already looked at the instragram, so you reckon you've got a fair idea in your head).

Jeongguk ushers you up a narrow staircase that brings you above a mandu restaurant. The smell of hot oil and fresh dough wafts in the air and follows you up the stairs, while Jeongguk whinges about being hungry again.

He absolutely cannot be hungry already, but he swears down that he'll die (a common complaint from him) if he doesn't have some mandu soon. You put your palms on his lower back and encourage him up the stairs, stopping him from turning around when he tries.

It's only made worse when you enter Min's studio, only to find Yoongi munching on flat mandu. Jeongguk whines again. Tells Yoongi that he's being cruel, then tells you the same thing for your refusal of allowing him to indulge in such a delicacy.

Yoongi just looks at the pair of you a little bewildered, half a mandu in his mouth, the rest held snug between his chopsticks. He swallows down the food and raises his brows. "Can I help you?"

As it turns out, he can. Jeongguk explains the task at hand - "ballache, if you ask me" - and Yoongi offers to help, free of charge, without even batting an eyelid. Brushes his hands off on his dark grey apron, tosses the empty paper container of his mandu into the bin, and sets about finding that right tools for the job.

It's a no-brainer to him: invest in the people you care about, and they'll invest back. He knows that Jeongguk would help him in a heartbeat, too - and he will also be sure to remind him of this moment in the future when he's in desperate need of a bar space for a showcase.

Min's is everything you thought it would be.

Deceptively large, it has more than enough room for there to be a few extra members of staff - but Yoongi works best alone. Likes his solitude. The rowdiness of his friendship group more than makes up for how quiet his job is - and when the saws and sanders are blaring, it'd be redundant having other people to socialise with.

The back wall showcases more saws than any one man could possibly need, but they all serve a distinct purpose that Yoongi would argue couldn't be achieved with anything else. In all truth, he's skilled enough to be able to mimic the texture and appearance of certain saws, but he likes doing things the old-fashioned way; as they should be done.

There's a stack of wooden boards on his work table, that he's been sanding by hand because there's something far richer about the finish than when they're machine done. He'll charge a little extra for these ones - and it'll be paid without hesitation because of how beautiful they are.

"Has he mentioned dinner at our place to you, yet?" Yoongi asks when Jeongguk finally makes a break for it to go and buy some mandu.

You glance over to him from the display unit, where small ornate objects sit, perfectly polished and prettily waiting for new homes. "Dinner?"

Yoongi nods. "Our place. Weekend before Tae's show - has he really not mentioned it? I've reminded him twice already."

Shaking your head, you laugh. "Boy's got a complex. Not good with invites."

It's something Yoongi is well aware of - after all, he'd been the one to watch Jeongguk with you, a smile on his face, as he finally spoke to a new girl at the bar a few weeks back.

"Mhmm," Yoongi hums. "Just didn't realise it applied to you, too."

"Doesn't normally," you admit, trying to hide the slight confusion you feel. It really is out of the ordinary - he usually invites you to things to avoid having to invite an actual girl. Makes you feel a little insecure. "Maybe he just doesn't fancy me being there?"

"Who doesn't want you where?" Jeongguk says through a muffled mouthful of mandu, pushing the studio door open with his shoulder. Stops in his tracks when he sees Yoongi slowly fold his arms over his chest, giving him a hard stare. "Ah. That ."

He glances over to you, noticing your furrowing brows and the hurt that's delicately kissing your features. It's faint. Barely there. But he knows you well enough now to know exactly when you're feeling affronted.

"So you don't want me there-"

"No!" Jeongguk chimes before you've fully finished your question. "No, no. It's not that, I just keep forgetting. Honestly."

He really does. The last time Yoongi sent him a reminder, he'd been on his way to the art cafe hell-bent on getting forgiveness. And like, he did get it, so it's not like it was a fruitless endeavour. Ended up nearly getting laid in the process, but that's neither here nor there.

Yoongi sighs. "If you want a job done properly, do it yourself."

And then he's the one to invite you for dinner. "Our place. Seoyeon is dying to meet you."

You say yes in a heartbeat, as you've been dying to meet her, too. Yoongi says he'll just bypass Jeongguk next time and invite you himself, to which Jeongguk doesn't protest like you half think he will.

In fact, Jeongguk actually really likes that Yoongi considers you a part of the group. Likes that you're becoming their friend, not just his.

Jeongguk's eyes are warm as he looks over to you; teacups full of steaming americanos. Enough caffeine to keep you up for hours, but cosy enough to calm the shakes. And, just like a good cup of coffee, you find yourself always going back for more. Warm coffee might be for pussies, but maybe you'll make an exception this time.

Eventually, Yoongi shoos you both out of the studio. He's got work to finish, and you're distracting him as you mess around with the soldering pen he uses to sign his work. Neither you nor Jeongguk can really work it properly, and are just using it to write profanities on scrap wood anyways.

"You're like a pair of flirting teenagers," Yoongi scolds. He actually quite enjoys the way you banter together. It's nice seeing Jeongguk like him old self again - but he worries. Knows what happened the last time Jeongguk got a little too close to a girl who was 'just a friend' - so he deliberately makes things awkward to force a little self-reflection upon his friend. "If I didn't know the pair of you, I'd think you were fucking, or something."

The way Jeongguk glances over towards you is nefarious; a reminder that what's done in the dark should remain in the shadows.

That's the thing about Jeongguk, though. There's no hiding him. He'll shine even in the darkest of rooms - and when he's facing a girl with enough glitter to rival a mirrorball, his shine would only ever be amplified.

Still, he gags and tells Yoongi not to be a 'weirdo,' and that 'guys and girls can be friends without fucking,' and asks 'do you not have any girl friends?' then says 'like, literally, what the fuck Yoongi?' and 'take that back ' and 'we'd never fuck' and 'we're not even each other's type' and-

"You're deflecting a little hard, there, Gguk."

All you can do is laugh. Yoongi's right. He is deflecting hard.

Plus, on a technicality, you haven't fucked Jeongguk. Not really.

Which is probably a good thing, considering that when you arrive back at Jeongguk's place, there's a single bird waiting on his bed for you both.

The folds are pristine. Expert. His .

He looks at you as you read it to yourself first. Isn't sure if you're grimacing or smiling. Thinks both would be bad, given the nature of literally every single bird on his ceiling.

"So?"

You eventually look up at him, and turn the bird around for him to read:

Let a friend set me up.

"So," you take a deep breath and smile. It's convincing. "Looks like I have to arrange you a blind date."

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

[greyeyedmonster-18]

i can see you (up against the wall with me)

(i haven't slammed repeat on a song in awhile, I Can See You from Speak Now (Taylors Version) is a certified banger and this...slipped out.

please enjoy a slytherin! sirius, wolfstar au)

-

Remus had initially approached this Herbology assignment as a business arrangement, nothing more, nothing left, completely annoyed and frustrated at being paired with Sirius Black. But in a NEWT class so small, many of his classmates dropping out after sixth year and realizing the work required and that Herbology wasn't, in fact, an easy O as they had anticipated, leaving the class nearly empty.

Just Remus

A few Hufflepuffs, a Ravenclaw by the name of Turpin.

and Sirius Black.

With his stupid handsome face and dark curly hair and casually cool, effortlessly aloof expression. Sirius looked as if he had never worried about a damn thing in his life and Remus pulled at the threads of his uniform every opportunity he got. Though, it was much harder to do so with his arms elbow deep in a potted plant, Sirius beside him writing up the report due within the next few days.

"How does the soil feel?" Sirius asked.

"Like soil, bloody disgusting..."

The corners of Sirius's mouth turned up slightly, not even enough to make a crease in his face. Barely there. But Remus saw it, and oh.

"Clay, sandy, loam..."

"That's a made up word," Remus said, trying to focus on kneading the bottom of the plant gently to check for any stray moving roots or insects, cursing himself for taking Herbology in the first place. Even if the years of gardening with his Mum had paid off finally.

"We've been learning about loam for two weeks."

"I said the word sounded made up, not the concept," Remus countered and the corners of Sirius's mouth twitched again. He shook his head and Remus's heart flipped, watching a stray dark curl fall out of the ponytail Sirius was wearing and fall in front of his eyes.

Oh.

"So conceptually, is it loam or...?"

"Clay loam," Remus told him, gently setting the plant back in the pot, and wiping his hands on a nearby towel. He watched as Sirius's eyebrows drew together softly, as he concentrated on the questions in front of him, writing out each word carefully in neat cursive. Despite wanting it to be a business arrangement--Remus assuming the worst from a boy in Slytherin with the last name Black who scarcely spoke to anyone in school and hadn't given anyone a reason to trust him, half of his peers walking around with marks on their arms--the plan had failed miserably. Not only did Remus realize Black was exceptionally adept at Herbology, but he was pleasant. He was easy to work with. He was exceptionally good looking and Remus found himself staring every moment he could, desperate for more. Imagining what it would be like to have Sirius's clipped fingernails and broad hands palming the back of his neck and touching his hipbones.

I’ve been watching you for ages and I spend my time trying not to feel it

Remus was beside himself, and delusional, trying to find excuses to talk to Sirius once the business arrangement was over, and feeling foolish as he did so.

Except.

Sirius would brush past him in the hallway, a broad shoulder skimming against his during passing periods and Remus wanted to taste the aftershave on Sirius's neck.

Sirius would send him whisper smiles in Herbology.

In Potions.

Every opportunity for a glance in each others direction became an opportunity for a secret smile, or a wink, grey eyes twinkling with nothing but trouble. Thats all Sirius Black was. Trouble. Not someone Remus wanted to mix himself up with in his final year, in the beginnings of a war. There was already talk of secret societies being orchestrated by Dumbledore; already reports in the Daily Prophet and resources for people who wanted to help. Remus knew he already had a target on his back as a werewolf, people unsure whether to trust him and getting involved with Sirius Black wouldn't help the cause any.

But then Remus would look up from his textbook in the library, and see Sirius Black at a table alone, looking straight back. A quick tilt of a dark eyebrow, asking--no daring-- Remus to move. Remus tapped his fingers on the desk, not breaking eye contact, the two engaged in the staring contest of the century, both determined not to break. He was just about to swallow his pride, his ego, and surrender to bravery when Sirius stood up from his table, casually walking over to Remus, silver and green tie loose around his neck, somehow still managing to look refined and not disheveled like the rest of the population.

Remus opened his mouth when Sirius got within earshot, to attempt a greeting. A hey. A I'm losing the ability to control myself. A stop looking at me like that, please.

A what would you do if they never found us out?

Sirius put his hand flat on the table, looking down at Remus, tilting his head to the side, "Hey."

"Hello."

"We make a good team."

"What?"

"We got an O on our Mimulus aurantiacus."

"Oh. Yeah," Remus said lamely, scooting back in his chair to avoid having to strain his neck to look up at Sirius. It was too close, it was too much. Remus could see every dark eyelash and the beauty mark below Sirius's left eye; his crooked eyetooth and the planes of his face and the warmth of his skin. Remus would put money on Sirius's expanses skin being able to keep him warm, thaw every chill in Remus's body, imagining what it would be like to be pressed into a mattress underneath Sirius.

What would you do if I went to touch you now?

And then Sirius gave him that smile, the corner raising higher than it ever had and Remus's breathing hitched at the sight. This boy was beyond intoxicating, more potent than any shot of firewhiskey had had ever taken.

"Don't want to talk to me anymore, Lupin?" Sirius asked, as teasing tone in his voice, "Project over and you can't be seen with me?"

"I..what...do you want to talk about?"

"I don't. Not really."

"...So I should...mind my own business?"

"Not that either," Sirius said, and bent down lower, leaning all the way across the table and Remus could feel his face flush. It was late enough that the library was nearly empty, close to curfew and students had mostly cleared out. Madame Pince was likely in the back and closing for the evening. And then there was Sirius, with his lips skimming the shell of Remus's ear as he spoke. "Can you be quiet, Lupin?" he whispered.

"I think so."

What would you do if we never made a sound?

"Good, because Merlin knows I have not stopped thinking about you," Sirius said, standing up once more. "I'll see you outside."

I can see you, waiting down the hall for me.

The next day, Remus turned the corner out Ancient Runes, instantly spotting Sirius leaning one shoulder against the wall, his expensive leather bag over the other. The whisper smile that first caught Remus's attention flickering, as if the other boy was unable to stop it at the sight of Remus, both of them remembering the night before.

An abandoned hallway, just shy of the library, hidden behind tapestries and staircases, the two of them ignoring both bells of warning for curfew.

One of Remus's hands above his head, plastered to the wall with the rest of of his body as Sirius kissed him roughly. Endlessly. Wanting to steal every attempt at conversation and word Remus could possibly offer and Remus let him. Sirius Black did not kiss nice and Remus wouldn't have had it any other way.

I can see you, up against the wall with me.

It was bold.

Exhilarating.

Remus finally answering Sirius's eyebrow of a dare and pushing robes off the other boys shoulders, throwing them to the ground, their feet caught in a heap of dark fabric. Stepping on toes and unable to get enough of each other.

"How quiet can you be, Lupin?" Sirius asked, his voice low. His hands on the buckle of Remus's belt.

"Very."

"Let's see about that..."

They keep watchful eyes on us

It's best that we move fast and keep quiet

Remus inhaled as he walked by Sirius with his friends, shoulders brushing, fingers touching for the tiniest of moments, the two of them lost in a fantasy together. Sirius cocked his head to the side, just enough for Remus to see the deep red bruise on his neck poking out of the top of his shirt collar.

What would you do, baby, if you knew? That I can see you.

[sneezypeasy]

*sigh*

Y'know, this really doesn't/shouldn't matter, but as this particular accusation keeps getting thrown at me over and over again - oh fuck it, I'm gonna take the bait this one time and set the record straight once and for all. Honestly my "appetite" in this context is truly not anyone's business (and if you don't care to hear about it this is the one warning you'll get to click away lmao) but I've reached the point where if you really wanna attack my credibility based on who you think I enjoy fantasizing about, I'm gonna throw you a bone and tell you exactly what type that is - cuz as much as I'm sick of the ad hominem attacks the Aussie in me is even more sick of watching them miss so fucking hard. If you're gonna roast me, the least you can do is hit me where it hurts, goddamn it. Get it right or go home you uncooked noodles. Capiche?

When it comes to my taste in men, my "type" is: big, strong, hairy brutes. There, I said it. Give me lumberjacks, give me cavemen, I want my Jason Momoas, I want my Ma Dong-Seoks, I want them broad shoulders and tree-trunk calves and I wanna see those muscles bulge. If a fictional character ever gets me biting my lip at the screen, it's never gonna be a fine-featured pretty boy, it's gonna be a good thick daddy who can take my wrists, pin me against a wall and [--------------------------------‐---sustained bleep sound effect---------------------------------]

1:38-1:51 🤣

Personality wise, I'm a basic bitch who has approximately zero defenses for the "jerk with a heart of gold" stereotype. Gets me every time, without fail. The smooth-talking playboy who flirts with everyone and who could bed anyone he wanted, but who only lets you see him at his deepest, dearest, most vulnerable moments? Sorry, am I supposed to not fall for that shit or something? Well frankly I don't understand how and I'm not ashamed to admit it. If he happens to be built like a fortress on top of that? Yeah, I'm done. Have me bathed and brought to your tent, sir, please and thank you.

I admit, it's rare that a character with the physique I like also has that heartbreaker personality I'm a sucker for. Guys in fiction are usually strong and mean or they make up for their lighter frames with silver tongues and barbed promises - rarely do writers create a character who's stacked with both brains and brawn, so to speak. Makes sense though, as while irl people can max out any combination of stats that they put effort towards - in fiction a character who's too good at too many different attributes can come across unbalanced or Gary Stu-ish and will fail to resonate with audiences unless the writer really knows what they're doing.

That being said, there really isn't any character in ATLA who fits my type - either of them, actually. There are some bit characters like Chit Sang who get close in terms of physical build - but Chit Sang has very gaunt, angular facial features that I'm really not a fan of and tbh, while I get that I can't expect all my big buff boys to also be masters of wit and cunning and charm, being dumber than a box of rocks does seal it for me, sorry. In terms of personality, I guess the closest character would be Jet, and he's cool and all but yeah, the whole "would go as far as killing kids" thing makes him a bit of a hard sell for me too. (And yes, it's worth questioning the writers' choices to create him with those flaws to begin with but look, that's a discussion for another day 😂)

All this to say, if you wanna tease me about coveting fictional characters and allowing thirst to cloud my judgment - COME AT ME BOYS. But not with Zuko, for fuck's sake. The character that makes sneezy.exe blue-screen ain't him. It's actually the late great Carthaginian General Hannibal Barca, the man the myth the legend may he Rest in Peace if anyone's seriously wondering. Look, I do like the scar, and the awkwardness is endearing - he's definitely not ugly or unappealing by any means so please don't misunderstand, I'm not trying to bash him or nothin' - but if I'm being brutally honest, he's not my type! Not physically, not even emotionally. If I ship Zutara, it's because aspects of the ship appeal to me that are unrelated to my personal opinion of Zuko as an object of fantasy, which if you must know (and now you do, congratulations, you're welcome), the kind of boy I do fantasise about when I'm in the mood for that sort of thing could literally and figuratively sweep Zuko off his feet - and then sit on him. In either order.

P.S. While we're on this topic, the character I personally relate to most heavily is not Katara either btw. It's Toph. If you're going to accuse me of bias, questioning my views on Toph would make the most sense for that reason. But really, it's hardly my fault that she's basically the most perfect flawless irreproachable badass in ATLA or practically all of animation as a whole. Come on now. *whistles innocently*

[bitethedevil]

Your character analysis’s are such a fun read! How do you go about analysing a character and what are your favourite posts?

How do I analyze characters (with Raphael as an example)

Cool question! I think my brain is automatically wired to analyze media and finding patterns at this point from studying English too long, and especially when I get really interested in a particular piece of media or character. It just sort of happens, though there is some process to it and stuff I look for when I’ve found an ‘angle’.

A starting point

Those are nice, aren’t they? For me, it’s mostly just finding some small thing and going ‘huh…that’s sort of interesting’ and then go from there. Other times it’s finding some kind of broad thing and see how that fits that character. I’ve made a whole analysis about why Raphael is a cat. I just took that small thing, looked for patterns that supported my claim, and put those together. It could also be some defining characteristic of the character or literally whatever you want as long as you can find proof and support it.

With Raphael it could be his ambition as an example.

When do we see it? When do we see it most? How does he express it? Do we see ambition elsewhere in the story? Oh yes. How is his expression of ambition different or similar from, let’s say Gale’s ambition for godhood or Astarion’s ambition for ascending? Gale and Astarion, to an extent, both think it would be for the better for the greater good if they reached their goal. Does Raphael think the same? Well, yes, it seems so. It might not be a correct statement, but he thinks so. Though we know from Gale and Astarion that such power corrupts (which is a huuuge theme in the work in general). Do we see the same flaw in Raphael? We don’t entirely know all that much about it (except for what he tells us in the ending) but what could we guess would happen after he has gotten the crown, from what we know happens to those other characters?

Patterns, comparisons, similarities, differences, proof, conclusion. That’s the gist of it.

Think about the writer’s intent but maybe not for too long.

It seems super stupid but stay with me. The way the writers have set up the narrative and the character’s place in it are obviously useful and crucial things to consider when analyzing things. I definitely won’t discredit it. However, when doing character analysis, I do sometimes throw it slightly out the window. I can make my own conclusions.

Did you have that experience in school where your English teacher points out that the ‘choice of the color green in that particular section of the book symbolizes hope’ and some kid went: “the author probably just thought green was a neat color” but your teacher keeps claiming that it doesn’t matter and that it’s still important? I’m going to be that English teacher right now. The confines of what we can analyze are not dependent on what the writer wants us to look at. God, all media would be terribly boring if that was the case.

I want to say that all the writers of BG3 have done an absolutely phenomenal job. There is no doubt about it. However, when it comes to a character like Raphael, there are stuff where I completely disregard the writer’s intent (in the final analysis. I still consider it). It has been said before by many others that he is for some reason written to be absolutely pathetic in the third act. That is the writer’s intent, and there is no doubt about it. It’s reverting expectations, I get it. I get the point loud and clear. I just wish it was more subtle and not so much handholding from the writer to tell me “he’s not all that. He is not what he says he is and btw he is also really evil”.

From the infamous shit-bucket, to his house being a mess, to it being hinted that he’s a bottom (nothing wrong with that by the way and shitty that it’s portrayed as being embarrassing for him), submissive (same point), shit in bed (once again) and only likes to sleep with himself. He keeps an innocent cleric in his basement that he tortures (in case we hadn’t gotten the point that he is bad). Sooo much handholding. I’m sure what happened was that he was supposed to play a different role in the narrative and when that got cut the writers were like “shit, what now?”.

That doesn’t mean I will discredit it or won’t analyze it though. I just won’t mindlessly eat up the intent served to me because I like to think myself. I can still take those things and make my own conclusions about it, such as the idea that Haarlep might be (and probably is) an unreliable source.

Character and Discourse Analysis

When doing character analyses, I look at the character as a whole person that exists both in and out of the narrative. We can only conclude things from what happens in the narrative though. What they do, how they do it, why they do it the way that they do, and what their motivations are. It’s important to consider all of it. They might act or react in a specific way to one thing, but does that mean that they would always do so? Are they perhaps under pressure or act differently because they want something?

An example with Raphael would be how he shows us who he is right from the get-go and presents himself as the devil you know. Seems a bit counterintuitive to reveal that you are a devil immediately if you are trying to lure someone into trusting you, right? If you know about Gortash, you also know that he seemed to be a lot more subtle when usually dealing with other people (a warlock came to his parents that might or might not have been Raphael himself). So perhaps this isn’t usual for his character, but why does he do it then?

Another thing I use occasionally is discourse analysis. Not discourse in the way that people might write or talk about a character, but the discourse of the character. How they speak, the specific words they use, and the way the character communicates with others. Discourse analysis is complicated as fuck, so I won’t go super into depth.

It’s particularly useful characters like Raphael who uses such colorful language. I’ve talked about before that he keeps using words and phrases that all boil down to us being small and him being bigger and better. It’s essentially not what he says, it’s how he says it and the way that he says it with the words he chooses. It can tell a lot about a character.

In conclusion

Here I go yapping again. For me, it’s pretty much just making claims and finding a way to support it. It doesn’t make that claim necessarily correct, but it’s about presenting an interpretation in a compelling way. It’s all about proof. With BG3 there is the wonderful thing that it’s a whole world outside the game as well so there is endless knowledge to gain from outside sources to support the things you have found in the game as well. It’s all about how nerdy one wants to be about it.

I’m not really sure if you mean analyses done by me or others when you say favorites. I think I might have linked a few that has inspired some of my own in their respective posts. I also recently read this one about Raphael and sex by @firlionemoontav that I really liked. When it comes to my own analyses, I like to write some of the more far-fetched almost conspiratorial ones like my theory on why Raphael could definitely rule the Hells and the sillier ones like the Cambion Cum Post

(Thank you for the ask <3)

[theresattrpgforthat]

I asked abaut a dating rpg but of you know of an easier game to hak than KoB i woud love recomendasions for that to Im kinda new to haking so I woud lovde tips on games easy to change

THEME: Hackable Games (Dating Sims).

Alright friend, I said I’d address both parts of your question, and this is me answering both parts of your question. In my previous rec post, we talked about ways you could take dating sim games that are already out there and how you could combine them with Kids on Bikes. I also talked about the Kids on Bikes system, and the kinds of things I think it expects from people who are playing it.

So, now that we’re talking about games that are easy to hack, let’s talk about some options. I've got two different approaches here: taking romance games and tweaking them, and using some beginner-friendly SRDs.

Caltrop Core, by TitanomachyRPG.

Ever wondered how to make your own TTRPG? Welcome to v1.2 of Caltrop Core, an introductory game design system using the humble and sharp d4!

Caltrop Core is a system designed for folks that are new to game design. It’s meant to be an extremely simple system reference document (or SRD) that guides you through the basics of the game you want to play. Your resolution will involve rolling a number of d4s and looking for the highest one; as the designer you’ll have to decide what is worth rolling for and whether your characters will be spending resources (tokens) to improve their chances of rolling or whether they’ll use a predetermined set of stats. The range of games that have been made with this system are very broad, from games about underwater cephalopods, to games about taxis in space, to games about doing your best to win your sapphic love.

What’s So Cool About _? By Jared Sinclair.

The original game of What’s So Cool About Outer Space? is no longer available on Itch.io, but Litza Bronwyn’s guide on how to make a WSCA game is still there. WSCA is a very simple system, asking each player to make up a few things about their character, and then detailing how to resolve something that is risky. What success and failure look like will usually be determined by the table as a group, and the player will roll 2d6, adding +1 to the total based off of things that exist on your character sheet or other questions that make sense in the genre that you’re playing.

The GM advice is also pretty basic, encouraging the Game Master to continually introduce new things that are happening, and dealing some key elements of the genre that you’re trying to emulate. There’s also the expectation that as you play, the game will grow; you’ll come up with new rules to make sense of specific situations or challenges that make sense for the kind of game you are playing. This is another beginner-friendly approach to game design, starting you off with a few basic tools and encouraging you to fiddle with them until you have a game that makes sense for your table.

If you want to see what kinds of games people have made in this genre, I recommend checking out the What Is So Cool About Jam!

Dating Sim, by Tyler Crumrine.

Dating.sim is a light-hearted romance roleplaying game inspired by the TV show The Dating Game as well as the “dating simulator” video game genre. Dating simulators are narrative-heavy games where players can date one of multiple eligible characters via choose-your-own-adventure-style conversations. Make the right choices and a character might like you more, make the wrong choices and they might like you less. Dating.sim recreates this structure through competitive roleplaying, with players improvising multiple-choice options for one player to select over the course of a date.

With more of a competitive, game-show style of play, if you pick up Dating Sim, you’re not so much hacking a game as you are creating a setting to put into the game. The art for the game points to a multitude of genres, so you would just want to start the game by asking the table about the universe this dating game show is happening in, and what kinds of contestants would be on it. This suggestion is more in line with the previous week’s posts, but sometimes trying out these kinds of games will help you figure out what kinds rules make sense for the game your playing; are your dates competitions? Are they mysteries? Or are they something else?

Thirsty Sword Lesbians, by Evil Hat.

Thirsty Sword Lesbians is considered genre-agnostic, with some suggested settings inside the game, but plenty of room to create or borrow a setting of your own. Hacking this game could be anything from creating your own custom setting but running it rules as written all the way to creating your own movies and character playbooks to fit the feeling of a dating simulator.

In general, PbtA games can provide great engines for interpersonal drama, which means that it often lends itself to allowing players to take things down a romantic path. Pasión de las Pasiones is another romantic PbtA game, this time originally focused around Spanish telenovelas, but I’ve seen people hack it for other genres as well.

However, keep in mind that the more concentrated a game is around a specific type of media or theme, the more work you’ll likely have to do in order to make it work for the theme you’re aiming for. In terms of PbtA games, this is especially true.

Boyfriend Dungeon Unofficial TTRPG, by CaptainKrail.

Make a character, fight through Dunj's, Craft items, Wield friends, level up by increasing your relasionships and fall in love in this Tabletop adaptation.

This TTRPG is an adaptation of the Powered By the Apocalypse system, using 2D6 to resolve conflict.

Because this game is specifically inspired by a dating-sim style game that involves impressing potential partners through learning about them, this game might be worth looking at, although many of the character options are focused around combat. I like the fact that part of the progression in this game is discovering more about the back-stories of the date-able companions, indicating that you are growing when you’ve built enough trust with someone to unveil more about their personal story.

Some Other Things To Think About

So I’ve watched a pretty in-depth explanation of how games like Tokimeki Memorial work, and I’ve also played Monster Prom. Both of these games reward multiple plays, because you’re expected to learn more and more about each romance-able character with every time that you play. If you wanted to replicate that in a tabletop roleplaying game, I think the closest mechanics that work for that kind of game are mystery games, especially games that have characters slowly accumulate clues that they can use to answer a bigger question.

The two biggest games that I can think of that are mystery-related are Brindlewood Bay and the GUMSHOE system.

Brindlewood Bay is a game about elderly ladies solving eldritch mysteries, but it’s also been hacked a number of times to represent mystery-solving in various settings. If each “mystery” was focused around a single date-able character, and the theorize roll was transformed into a roll that is actually you asking them out, you might have an interesting loop there.

GUMSHOE is an investigative roleplaying system that is designed to feed the players different clues throughout the course of play, but leaves the interpretation up to the players, giving them a series of investigative abilities that help them uncover extra information. You could re-structure this to make the clues elements of a character’s backstory, with the abilities of each character tied to ways that they can set their crushes at ease, slowly unlocking information that informs them about what kind of date their crush would like to go on.

A big caveat I have with both of these games is that I don’t think they’re necessarily easier to hack, especially if you haven’t played either of them. If you want to turn games like these into a fleshed-out dating simulator, my recommendation would be to pick up the game, run it RAW for a little bit, and think about what you like or don’t like about the game. If you want to make a quick hack, this kind of process probably isn’t for you.

[mosneakers]

Brick's Spooky Day party is in full swing. The atmosphere is alive with laughter and merriment and dancing under the full moon light. Occasional howls emanating from the thick woods of Moonwood Mill, and the deep pulsating beat of the eerie spooky-themed music, send waves of anxiety-induced nausea through Skye Darling's tummy. She considers leaving early.

Selene dances entrancingly around the grassy field as if no one's watching, yet every movement is calculated to capture Lou's feral attention. Their eyes occasionally meet, and with each glance a magnetic pull intensifies. Lou, torn between the painful rumors of her involvement with Brick Darling, and the irresistible force pulling him closer, as if the moon itself is guiding him, decides to push aside his uncertainties and finally say something to her.

Lou: Love the costume...

Selene: [Chuckles] Thanks. You make a pretty convincing pizza boy, yourself! I thought mine was a little on the nose, actually. Lou: Nah, it's perfect—it's very fitting, hah. Anyway, just wanted to say thanks for inviting us, by the way. Selene: Hey, thank Brick. It was all his idea. I just helped him set it all up. He's really trying to build bridges between the communities.

Lou: [Nods gently] Right, I'll be sure to do that. Well whoever's idea it was, I'm glad I made it out, this is a nice party. Looks good. Selene: [Smiles] It's good to see you, Lou— Lou: —Good to see you too. Real good. You look happy. I'm glad you found someone to make you happy, Lenie.

Selene: What? You mean Brick? [Laughs] No, I'm not -with- Brick. We just help each other out from time to time. But we're just friends. In fact, Brick's on a mission to find his fated mate, and I'm supposed to be his wing-wolf tonight, haha.

Lou's eyes widen impulsively. A stifled, shaky exhale of relief slips passed his lips and and a broad grin appears as he tries to play it cool.

Lou: Oh! Cool, cool. Very cool. And how's that going?

Meanwhile, on the other side of the empty grassy lot, Wolfegang approaches Brick with a curious grin. Wolfegang: Hey big guy. [Hearty pat on shoulder] Nice party. Brick: Ayy, thanks man! Glad you could make it. Your costume is siiick. You make a way better pizza guy than Lou's version. Wolfegang: [Blinks slowly] Thanks, brother. Hey, quick question. That young lady hanging out with your cousin... I don't believe I've had the honor of meeting her... Happen to know her name? Brick: Oh her? That's Janie. [Cocks eyebrow] Pretty, huh?

Wolfegang: Pretty? Brick, please, my brother in Wolfhood... [clears throat] From the moment I caught but a glimpse of her eyes in pale moonlight, as she twirled with a carefree and insouciant charm, I found myself ensnared in an irresistible magnetic pull, a force from which I am yet to break free. Her scent alone has my head spinning. I simply cannot be any more clear, I have never encountered a woman like her in all of my years. Brick, my lupine comrade, forgive my directness, but I must inquire: Is she a romantic interest of yours? Your fated mate, perhaps?

Brick: ... I don't know yet, dude. I haven't tested things out with her to get that "special feeling" everyone keeps talking about. Wolfegang: I would hate to step on your toes, friend, but I would be forever grateful to you, if you could introduce me to this enigmatic soul. Brick: [Laughter] Bro what? Why you so worried about stepping on my toes? I wore my work boots. But yeah dude, I can introduce you. You always this weird when you make a new friend?