#fun fact i started working with the language as just like a fun side project for an oc

[mixtapedoh]

and it was all yellow | y.j.

welcome back to SVTU ! lost your way? refer to our campus map for directions.

pairing: yoon jeonghan x gn!reader with guest appearances from c. seungcheol, h. joshua, w. junhui, and more !

word count: ~5.9k genre: neighbors to friends to lovers warnings: language, intermittent Lore Dumping™ (i have to kick us off into svtu somehow), jeonghan is a little shit, light suggestive themes (heavily lampshaded and perhaps only occuring twice?)

☄. *. ⋆

olive's notes: these individual headcanon sets are going to be very ~stream of consciousness~, so bear with me, here. second, cheol and jeonghan are brothers (and there's a secret third brother i'll introduce eventually, don't you worry), also, thank you for stopping by <3. now here's the content you signed up for.

☄. *. ⋆

now playing... ılı.lıllılı.ıllı. ... ⌜ angel baby — troye sivan ⌟

AND IT WAS ALL YELLOW ☄. *. ⋆

— it all started when jeonghan realized that jun was loaded.

now, don't get him wrong. it wasn't as though he had befriended jun because jeonghan had been looking for someone rich and easily persuaded. it's not like jeonghan used his ineffable charm to win over the quasi-cryptid that was wen junhui because of jun's apparent legacy funds.

not that jeonghan couldn't have done — he clearly had the persuasion and cunning to do it — he just didn't. jeonghan wasn't in need of someone else's money. please. he was very capable of taking care of himself, thank you very much, he was just also, however, very good at knowing things.

especially those things that could be used to his advantage.

— and well... wen junhui was loaded. wealthy as shit. a classic trust fund baby. a walking dollar sign that just so happened to share classes with jeonghan every year since he started SVTU as a political science major (of arts, of course. he hadn't taken latin in high school to not absolutely crush the romance languages in uni).

— you see, SVTU had this fun little program for long-suffering students interested in the government and manipulating it to their will wherein if you took merger courses — lectures that ate up a hell of a lot of your time and money but gave substantial credit hours that counted for both applied and allied course credit — you could get a jump start on your degree, be offered more opportunities for internship, and explore a subject's "many facets" through "multiple lenses."

to jeonghan, it meant working faster and harder so that he might graduate early and get into the actual politics of pol sci quicker — at a more “genius” and “revolutionary” age.

(half of politics, after all, was being appealing enough to make headlines. there wasn’t time to waste, in the long run.)

to wen junhui it had to mean something different — after all, jun was a pre-law student with a completely different career path from the other party involved (though jeonghan had considered law at one point in time — something he’s not above admitting though certainly not pining after). merger courses for him likely meant an expedited process to law school. but that was truly beside the point. an aside.

— what mattered in the end, was that jeonghan and jun had more than enough shared merger courses to go around, and in the process of things, had gone from strangers to acquaintances, then study partners (blame it on the fact that jun — the altruistic leaning bastard he was — actually tutored in his free time. willingly. as in, not a joke.) to committed group project members, and eventually to that nebulous thing called friendship.

ask them both when that final stage commenced and you’d get varying responses — jeonghan always far more generous than jun in such regards, but almost annoyingly so, like he wanted to be the one leaning more on the ridiculous.

— yes, it was quite a ways into their friendship when jeonghan learned that wen junhui, his sweet jun, was loaded. like, living alone off of campus in his own two bedroom apartment on the wealthy side of the city that prospered from the University Living Aesthetic™, loaded. as in, so loaded he could have easily found more than enough willing bodies to become roommates with him and help pay for the exorbitant expenses but simply decided against it because he hadn’t, and i quote “thought about it before.”

“never thought about it? jun. how much does this place cost?”

and jun had to think for a minute. genuinely think about how much he paid in monthly rent. “i suppose for a month’s rent i pay around… [REDACTED].”

and jeonghan was no stranger to dramatics, to be sure, but anyone else would have gaped the same as him. “[REDACTED]??”

"[REDACTED]."

"...shit."

— yes, jeonghan finding out that jun was loaded, living in a (rather well kept) apartment with an empty room, no roommates, and an assortment of (dying) houseplants that needed care, was truly the beginning of it all.

— after all, while the chaos settled in a year after the fact when he and joshua would finally move in with jun because of circumstances that aren't truly relevant to the here and now, all true origins start a little before dramatic changes. there's always a gentle precursor, something soft that sets the stage. rumblings of change are necessary forefathers to the strength of revolution; jeonghan learning that jun was a walking line of credit with property to his name and a work ethic that would make any professor blush was necessary groundwork for the events that would follow.

and goddamn, if things didn't follow.

— but i suppose, if we're back tracking all the way to jeonghan and shua moving in with jun on one very ill timed sunday (jun had an exam in his special topics in deviance, crime, & the law course the next day), we are also brushing up against jeonghan meeting you.

another precursor to the chaos that would follow. another tremor that would shake the ground and cause things to tumble.

— you also lived in the terraces on 17th and attended svtu. you lived on the same floor as jun — two apartments down from his, no less — and his first week there, you showed jeonghan the campus shuttle routes that passed right outside the complex (he'd come to learn that the domino route was the one you took most often, as it led right to the heart of the university, but the pinwheel route was also a convenient option for evening courses).

— you and jeonghan weren't friends right away. no, you were always a friendly face around the complex and a decent conversationalist when stuck in the elevator together, but it wasn't as though you and jeonghan became fast friends. you were just neighbors for a while; just another person grabbing mail on monday afternoons, stopping at the in-residence coffee shop on bleak wednesday mornings, ordering pizza on saturday evenings and giving joshua a slice after he weaponizes his big, brown eyes.

— and then came The Series of Fire Alarm Mishaps.

— you see, at some point in the middle of the semester, someone new moved into the apartment building, in the same hall as you and jeonghan. at first, you barely even noticed the change, and then they started cooking.

— which wouldn't have been a problem. if they had been good at it.

the first few times the (incredibly loud and not unreasonably sensitive) fire alarms from down the hall had gone off, it had been unfortunate - a mild nuisance that disrupted what jeonghan had been doing, and nothing more. but then, the first few times became multiple, and from multiple, came a pattern. every other day, at least twice, the fire alarm next door would go off. and it would always be at different times - breakfast, the afternoon, early evening, even sometimes at 1:28 in the morning. the fire alarm would sound, and while it would mostly be no longer than a minute or two, it was still enough to be irritating.

you and jeonghan talked about it every time you saw each other in passing, or just so happened to be taking the same shuttle to campus (which happened quite often, anymore, since jeonghan enrolled in an extra course to help him graduate all the sooner). your neighbor and that damn fire alarm. your neighbor and their inability to cook, yet unnecessary dedication to the craft. you both joked about the inevitability of them actually burning the apartment down.

— and then, one day, the fire alarm went off at 2:19, waking jeonghan up out of a dead sleep (he hadn't meant to fall asleep at his desk, and his neck would pay for it all the next day). he heard it, and immediately decided to ignore it, knowing it would stop soon.

but then it didn't.

at about 3.5 minutes of non-stop alarms, jeonghan was annoyed enough that he left his room and staggered into the kitchen for some water, where shua and jun were already waiting around, likely with the same idea (though it was clear that shua hadn't ever fallen asleep, and perhaps jun was in the same boat, though he'd changed into sweats and a light t-shirt).

at about 6 minutes, jeonghan opened the door to see if anyone else was, well... concerned.

and at 13 minutes, he was standing outside in the brisk autumn air, agreeing with jun as he whispered that if there wasn't an actual fire but just their talentless neighbor attempting to cook in the middle of the night, he was going to kill the bastard himself.

— and there, in the middle of all this stupidity — sleepily rocking back and forth from one foot to another — and on the other side of him, was you.

— and, well, when you offered to buy him and the rest of his roommates coffee at the convenience store that was just down the street, not far, he couldn't do much beyond say yes. what was he going to do? decline your offer?

and so all four of you walked to the convenience store and aimlessly wound your way through the almost neon colored aisles. jeonghan used the opportunity to stick to you like glue and get you to open up — about yourself and your roommates, both of whom had gone home for two weeks for (separate) family vacations (not that you were jealous. clearly the superior option was to stay at the apartment, embroiled in course work and standing outside at 2:00 am because of some loser neighbor who can't cook a singular meal without burning the building to the ground, and yet refuses to have anything delivered).

— in the end, the fire hadn't been bigger than something contained in the pan ("thank god," you had said, shaking your hands in lackluster triumph, "i have a physics exam next week. i need those notes more than you know"), but at only 4 months of having a new neighbor, someone new moved in within 2 weeks at most. and, after being neighbors for almost 7 months, you and jeonghan were decidedly friends.

after all, you bought him a triangular gimbap, ice cream, and convenience store coffee. jun had slipped away with just a banana milk (which he promptly paid back the next day), and shua nearly bought out the whole store once the two of you got to talking about the best midnight (and hours after) snacks lining the walls. at the least, he was indebted to you, which could only be solved by more trips to the convenience store with more mindless conversation, and more time for the both of you to endear yourself to the other.

and the way jeonghan saw it, friendship at that point was inevitable. especially when, at the start of the next semester, you and jeonghan both had an early morning class and used the domino route to get to class via campus shuttle.

(and sure, jun had an early class, too, and drove himself to campus everyday, meaning jeonghan could have easily just gotten a ride, but he didn't. for no particular reason, really, he just never did; but one frost bitten morning after a snowstorm, when jeonghan was waiting at the shuttle stop and you stood beside him, bundled up in a thick winter coat and rubbing the tips of your fingers to keep them warm, you turned to him, the cord of the wired headphones the both of you always shared swaying from the movement (a streak of yellow against all this white, the sun in the middle of stark winter), and smiled, "i'm glad you're here with me." and maybe — just maybe — that was reason enough.)

— and thus, for reasons above explained, in the end, it all started with jeonghan learning jun was loaded. if it weren't for that simple knowledge, he wouldn't be anywhere near where he currently stood.

— which was the open doorway of jun's apartment, garbage in hand, falling in love with you.

"what?"

and you at least had the presence of mind to be flustered by it.

jeonghan could laugh, really. "is that my jacket?"

it totally was, and perhaps the way you fiddled with the sleeve of it and scoffed awkwardly, refusing to meet his eyes, was the true giveaway that you knew it most certainly was. "i don't know, is it?"

you were met with smug silence, so of course, you'd elaborate.

"i thought it belonged to my ex. i just chose what looked the warmest. it's storming out there — you might want something more than a sweatshirt if you're taking that all the way to cans." you gestured to the garbage bag — a detail jeonghan had almost forgotten at the sight of you in his clothing.

"you think your ex would have bought that?"

of course he wasn't going to take your bait in changing the subject. that would make things easy. you rolled your eyes, spinning your key ring and making it jingle. "hoseok has great style. it's just different from yours."

"and that jacket is more my style than his."

"it is," you conceded. under jeonghan's gaze you stuck one half of the jacket out, towards him. "do you want it now? you'll need it out there."

"i don't think i will. not when i'll have your sunny presence to warm me."

and for a split second your eyes narrowed. you had just come in from the storm — that much was plain to see from the wet of the jacket to the reusable grocery bag in your hand, full of pantry odds and ends. there was no need to go back out, and you and jeonghan both knew it. and not to mention that the invitation (thinly veiled) was unattractive — stay inside where it was warm or brave the stormy weather once more, all for a garbage run?

"race you to the elevator."

— and see, the truth of the fact was, it wasn't as though you made it difficult to fall in love with you (though even if you had, jeonghan would have liked the challenge, perhaps. there's fun in plenty of things). you were generous, a good conversationalist, you bitched about people with jeonghan but still tried to see the best in them, you were knowledgeable about the most random yet oddly applicable things, and for all of his teasing, you put up with him. perhaps enjoyed him.

— it certainly confused seungcheol, to say the least (but don't such things always confuse brothers).

"as someone who's had a lifetime to cherish your personality, there has to be something wrong with this y/n if they're willingly spending time with you. i'm trying to save my soul, putting up with you on the daily. they have no excuse."

"if i'm going to respond to that, you'll have to give me five minutes to run first."

and it ended with jeonghan quickly pushing away from the table, trying to duck out of seungcheol's grasp; but of course, the older brother and president of the boxing club would get him anyway, and through laughter, attempt to knock some humility into jeonghan (it wouldn't stick).

— but no need to focus on all of that, now. after all, this deep into the semester, jeonghan was busy enough without Crippling Thoughts of Romance.

— the worst damage you wrought thus far was making him choke that day you wandered into karaoke club and he was in the middle of a duet joshuji had managed to cajole him into doing on the spot (you swore up and down that you didn't know he was even in the club to begin with, but something about your flustered behavior and shua's glee at the whole affair made him consider otherwise); while it had been a (minor, he claimed) blow to his pride, it was easily pushed aside. jihoon, the bastard, might bring it up on occasion — the one (1) time angel voice yoon jeonghan chokes, and it's all on camera — but other than that, jeonghan? cool as a cucumber.

the last thing he'd do is be awkward around a crush. jeonghan was cool; jeonghan was suave; jeonghan was speaking in the third person because joshuji had been on a self-love bender a few months back and had said daily affirmations into the mirror every morning, and after finding out and teasing him relentlessly for it, jeonghan unfortunately picked up the habit.

AND IT WAS ALL YELLOW (CONT.) ☄. *. ⋆

— and now that we've gotten this far, i suppose it's time we bring up Jeonghan Habits™ because there were many, the closer you and jeonghan got to each other, strings of fate drawing you ever nearer, joining you at the hip.

— for one, it seemed that ever since that first unfortunately timed run to the convenience store at hours after-midnight, jeonghan felt comfortable just showing up at all odd hours of the evening, all messy hair and too-big hooded sweatshirts (most stolen from seungcheol, he'd reveal to you one day when you were confused as to just when jeonghan had picked up a love of coton de tulear puppy conventions — enough to get a commemoriative sweatshirt, no less), with the oh-so-enticing offer of going to grab a snack.

he even called it a date, once, when you were wrapped up in three blankets and your fuzzy house slippers, weakly try to convince him to just rummage through you're cupboards instead

"you're so cold you're going to cancel our date? and here i thought we had something real."

(you'd been so flustered by the whole exchange you simply ended up going to the with him, hoping that the act of Just Doing It would buy you time against his rapid fire machine gun comebacks — probably exactly what the fucker had planned in his 4d chessboard of a brain — and jeonghan took the opportunity to file away in his mind the cute expression that crossed your face in the split second that the words hit you fully in the chest and you floundered, wide-eyed into recovery)

— another, of course, was his habit of casually leaving things at your place whenever the two of you hung out; the first few times he left something — his jacket, a pair of sunglasses, necklaces that you don't ever quite recall him taking off to begin with — you promptly returned it with the naive belief that it was a one-off mistake not like to happen again. but it just kept happening, and so eventually, you just stopped returning.

if it were important, jeonghan would have texted you about it — he texted you about all kinds of random things, anyway, his lost socks would be no more strange than texts of ootds or how particularly sparkly his eyes looked that day.

and he never did...

until you started to wear the things he left, of course.

'should i get two of these?' the text came in while you were walking to your next class, taking your sweet time since the weather had cleared up nicely and the campus shuttles were running smoothly — not a single one hand been late all week, a sure change from usual. a moment later your phone chimed again, and jeonghan had sent a picture of a silver ring with a greek key styling. it was cool enough, and fit in nicely with jeonghan's usual style of accessory (not that you were particularly knowledgeable of such things... haha.)

'sure, but why 2?'

'so you can have one of your own instead of stealing it.'

'???!?'

'look at your outfit right now. you're wearing MY necklace. it's been missing for weeks.'

'YOU LEFT IT AT *MY* APARTMENT??????'

'you still have necklaces of your own; didn't have to be mine.'

'😑'

'so what's your ring size?'

'stfu'

— in your defense, you didn't think it was an issue, borrowing the things he'd randomly leave at your apartment. it had started off innocuously enough — seonghwa and momo (your roommates, bless them) needed you to go grab a few last minute ingredients for dinner (they were the ones cooking, so charitably you offered to do the grunt work) and when you couldn't find your own sunglasses, there were jeonghan's, just sitting on your dresser and waiting to be used.

and after that, well... jeonghan had nice style, okay? you were not immune to convenient and accessible clothing. if jeonghan wasn't so forgetful of his own articles of clothing, it wouldn't be the case that you steal his favorite sunglasses and borrow his usual rings and get a little too caught up in the way his cologne lingers on his jackets and night shirts, a smell all-too comforting and somehow tempting...

— you attempted to give the necklace back later that week when you and jeonghan met up to take the domino route to university, but he just shrugged it off and told you that you might as well keep it. he already bought himself another.

and besides. it looked good on you.

— and as for the last of Jeonghan's Habits™ (certified and trademarked, of course, everything jeonghan did was protected by common law)... well... the discovery of this one came later, at a time you weren't expecting it, and so perhaps that explains why it makes you as flustered as it does.

— see, it's of no surprise that yoon jeonghan is clingy in a very positive sense.

being friends with jeonghan is always being kept in the loop, having an ongoing dialogue about most everything, doing lot of Things together and always knowing that if there's something you're even thinking of doing, jeonghan has already cleared his schedule in anticipation of going to do said thing alongside you.

— what surprised you, but really shouldn't have (so perhaps the right word is simply astonished, flustered, made giddy by the realization of), was that he was also very cuddly. and very hard to be talked out of, no less.

— and like, okay, sure, it was kind of hypocritical of you to be taken aback when you'd been indulging jeonghan of his affinity for physical touch for quite some time, now.

the surprise hugs whenever he caught you waiting for the campus shuttle or simply Minding Your Own Business, his inclination towards taking your hand to make you walk a little faster when the two of you were going convenience store diving (yes, again), the quite literal poking and prodding whenever he was attempting to get you to change your mind and agree with his worst impulses... it was all pretty damning, in retrospect. but it never really fazed you: jeonghan's cuddly sort of behavior.

though you had gotten a smug kind of glee whenever you initiated contact and jeonghan's cheeks would warm to a beautiful shade of pink before he'd counter his own seeming embarrassment with a comment like "aaahhhh y/n, you're so familiar, what would others think if they saw you?"

randomly touch jeonghan's forearm, whether to pull him closer for some reason or another or just to softly massage the skin while you absentmindedly scrolled on your phone (instagram scrolling was sacred time you and jeonghan shared — then you didn't have to send him the reel with your comments, you could just tap him on the shoulder and show him). they way jeonghan would get all shy at the touch — like maybe he felt some of those butterflies that perpetually fluttered about in your stomach whenever he was around — was all the satisfaction you could ever need.

— so yes, you were quite used to clingy jeonghan. but cuddly? you had never quite strayed into full cuddle territory... until you did.

— that fateful night, you had lovingly been given notice via a very abrupt group text that you would not be able to return to your apartment for the evening (someone was going to have company over, doing... things that familiar company do) and when you had told jeonghan of your plans to join seonghwa in his trip to the computer rooms at crescent hub (they were open 24 hours and while it was based on reservation, you were almost always able to get a seat), he offered you come to his apartment instead.

either that, or i guess you could spend your time watching the gaming club host whatever tournament they had going on — apparently jun was planning to be gone for Quite Some Time (as a senior member of the club) and shua was there... for moral support? that part was unclear, to be quite honest, but it wasn't as though shua ever needed a reason to be Busy and Outgoing, so it didn't quite matter much, in the end.

"why aren't you at crescent hub with your roommates, then?"

"and encourage them? ah... don't make me look soft."

and you're sure that the way you roll your eyes can be heard through the phone.

"i had an assignment to finish." / "you had work to finish."

"but! it's all been submitted now."

"then i'll meet you."

— after all, it's not like you were a stranger to jun's apartment — you'd hung out there plenty of times as your bond with jeonghan deepened and your friendship to shua and jun grew — and they did have a rather comfy couch... you were almost certain jeonghan's offer implied and unspoken 'you can at least get some comfortable sleep on our vertiable cloud of a couch when i'm done prying at the finer details as to just who momo decided to bring home.'

you both, after all, had a deep-seeded delight for gossip.

— and when you got there, it was exactly what you expected: jeonghan had seemingly raided the pantry finding ingredients so the two of you could make dakdoritang — excepting the carrot, of course.

despite his seeming love for convenience store runs and general lazy attitude toward preparing his own meals, cooking together seemed to be something jeonghan enjoyed lately — or at least, that's what you surmised. to you, it seemed that one day jeonghan woke up and chose cooking as a new hobby.

if you were to ask jeonghan, he would brush it off, of course, probably saying something about his mom visiting and praising jun's affinity for cooking and there was no way jeonghan could let the bastard win — but really all it had taken was one (1) absentminded hand on his chest from you and a "hannie, can you pass me the garlic cloves?" for him to make cooking with you a new personality trait of his. go figure.

— and so the two of you made your stew while debating which movie you should watch when you were done. you ended up compromising on some drama that you'd seen people claim was so bad it was good, and it really was. the cringe,,,, the mutual yelling at the tv,,,,,,, threatening the lives of fictional characters,,,,,,, talking over whole dialogue scenes because you had a brilliant rewrite in mind and jeonghan simply couldn't resist the way you looked when there was an earnestness in your eyes and an opinion on your lips,,,,

it was quite late, indeed, before you even knew it. and when you switched the tv to a music video you really wanted to show jeonghan, the autoplay sort of took over, and your mind sort of shut down... drifted off to sleep.

— you woke up at some point in the early morning; the sound of the lock clicking and the door opening wasn't the sound you were used to, in your apartment two doors down, and it was just enough to snap you awake momentarily, still half in dream yet with one foot in reality.

it was just shua and jun, and they whispered an apology before padding off to their respective rooms (jun his own, shua his shared room with hannie), clearly worn out from their gaming activities.

— but that little push to semi-wakefulness was just enough for you to take stock of where you were, and you noticed belatedly that jeonghan had never left to go back to his room. you were both sleeping on the couch, legs intertwined; jeonghan was resting his head on your shoulder and your hands were reaching out, as if almost to give him a subconscious hug.

— the embarrassment ran through your nervous system almost instantly, and when you made to slowly and gently move your limbs so you were less... interwoven, jeonghan stirred and, still sleeping, pulled you back towards him. perhaps even closer than before.

you couldn't help yourself. a giggle escaped you; perhaps half nerves, mostly endearment. jeonghan stirred again and the sound and you covered your mouth, not wanting to wake him.

he stilled soon enough, and before drifting off again, you kissed him on the forehead.

— when you fully woke up the next morning, jeonghan had already began his day, but he didn't even try to hide the fact that the both of you had unwittingly unlocked a new feature in this friendship of yours. he sort of just... took the night prior as a confirmation that cuddling was on the list of approved actions and refused to let go of you, after.

not that it bothered you, of course.

it just seemed that the butterflies in your stomach were given wild energy at this new development; all your strategies for calming them suddenly ineffective.

AND IT WAS ALL YELLOW (CONT.) ☄. *. ⋆

— so.

if you had asked jeonghan at any point in his life if he were good at manipulating, his answer would be an unequivocable yes.

deceit? of course.

scheming? obviously.

lying? naturally.

blackmailing? most assuredly.

gaslighting, gatekeeping, girlbossing? undoubtedly.

changing criteria? yes.

moving goalposts? clearly.

hiding the apparent? well...

— see, the thing is... you get so good at the others that concealing the obvious isn't exactly necessary. everyone might know to be wary of the scheming, cheating, self-serving yoon jeonghan, but it didn't change the fact that he was so astute at the rest of it, image didn't exactly matter.

and besides, why save face when it was so fun to see people accuse him of what they were all very aware?

— so yes, jeonghan was quite skilled at all manner of deception. the one facet he was not so adept in was hiding his feelings toward the matter.

— thus, it should be no surprise that everyone and their mother knew jeonghan had a crush.

and it was only getting worse.

— don't ask jun when he put the dots together — he was more emotionally intellectual than he let on most of the time — and don't ask joshuji when either — that fucker had this quirk where he joked about something before it had real honest basis, but in some way only attributed to the gift of clairvoyance, he always seemed to be right. if you were to ask joshua, he'd likely recall the first time he had looked at jeonghan and wiggled his eyebrows and call that he knew then (he didn't; at least, not really).

— as for s.coups... well, don't ever ask cheol anything about jeonghan. he'd rather die than give it to you straight.

please. when he could embarrass jeonghan? seungcheol lives for that shit.

after all, what else are older brothers for?

— so yes, it was obvious to those close to him that jeonghan was in the long-suffering limbo of Having A Thing For Your Best Friend But Not Acting On It, and it had been apparent for months.

— after all, it felt like centuries ago that joshua had offered to play matchmaker for jeonghan and you — the veritable apple of his eye — and set the two of you up on a date.

it had been some lazy morning and jun nearly spit out his breakfast.

"you'd both love it! i'd get jihoon to play something romantic on the violin; well, maybe recorder—"

cue jun choking once more.

"and you could be there waiting in full suit and tie."

"with couples rings waiting in the bread basket." and joshua's eyes went comically and maniacally wide at jun's inclusion.

"ah, cheol would crash any date like that."

"but then y/n could get his blessing!"

— at some point, jun was at his wits end.

in his defense, it was him who had to see the two of you be all sweet and love-struck all the time, giggling and teasing each other on his couch in his apartment while all he's trying to do is eat a sorry excuse of a subway sandwich (eat fresh.) before jetting off to his internship again.

if you had to see that shit while eating soggy bread you'd be annoyed, too.

one more "aigoooo" while jeonghan squishes your cheeks, and you bat him away with a roll of your eyes and jun would take a knife out of the block behind him.

— especially when jeonghan started calling you "angel" at every chance he got. had jun's eye twitching, it did. never had he regretted getting roommates until jeonghan fell in love.

one day jun learned that the phrase "get a room" made at least one of you self conscious enough to at least tone it down, and he never stopped weaponizing it, since.

— of course, overtime jun's protests became background noise, but once, when your roommates and jeonghan's all went to the museum of fine arts together to celebrate the end of finals week (it was free admission so long as you had your svtu activities card), jun had deadpanned his new favorite phrase in the middle of the outdoor conversation area. jeonghan had turned to you grinning, like it was the excuse he'd been waiting for all day, and after a lighthearted "shall we?" you grabbed his hand and the two of you pranced off to explore the sculpture terrace.

jeonghan had raised an eyebrow at your choice of exhibit, but you pulled him over to a sculpture of a human figure with black wings and flashed a smile: “it’s not a private room, but i think it works.”

“if you’d prefer it, i’m sure there’s a custodial closet we could go to instead. i bet there's one right outside, even.”

you snorted. “and if i did kiss you? what would you do then?"

— you stunned him into silence. him. yoon jeonghan. 

— right as he was about to recover and shoot back some smartass comment, you laughed — the sound clear and playful, bright and radiating with warmth — and then you wandered to where they showcased student work.

— umm... uhhh... WHATTHEFUCKWEREYOUDOING WHATTHEFUCKWASGOINGONNNNNN

“angel.”

you hummed absentmindedly, only half hearing jeonghan through the internal screaming reverberating in your skull.

“y/nnnnnnnnnnnnnnn…”

he was closer now, if you focused, you were sure you could feel him, inching closer, right behind you, just to your right…

— he kissed your cheek: half on the corner of your lips, half on the soft of your skin.

— you couldn’t help yourself. you turned.

“if you were bold enough to kiss me here, i’d kiss you back. then i’d be scandalized, ‘how forward!’”

your mouth opened: in shock, in delight, in laughter, in a heavenly mix of the three. jeonghan just stood there, all self-satisfied grin.

“you could waste your time finding a comeback, or you could be forward.”

“i think i have time for both.”

☄. *. ⋆

end of file .

SVT (sophrosyne; virtù; truth) University hopes you've enjoyed your stay !

[robinsno1lesbian]

Also also older neighbor Robin thot,

Reader & her talk about *sensitive* topics bc she gives great advice and reader comes to her about never *playing* with herself or ever finishing with anyone so older!neighbor!Robin gives reader a hands on lesson

(Take it as mutual mash orrrrr just Robin having some fun hehe)

𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 - 𝐑.𝐁.

older!neighbor!robin x fem!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2693 (ceebs this was supposed to be a short little drabble, look what you made me do??)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ mature content (MDNI), implied age gap (reader is 18+!), masturbation, finger sucking, vaginal fingering, reader is shy at first but robin can work with that, not beta read (i feel like i should stop mentioning that but english isn't my first language so i feel the urge to explain myself lmao).

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i am just projecting at this point but i'm here for it tbh- also this fic fits perfectly into the neighbor!robin universe so?

robin always gave great advice, from the first day on.

whether she was helping you with your styling choices or with where to look for your missing diary, she always seemed to get it right.

maybe that is why you chose to ask her, out of all people.

it not like there were many people to aks anyway. you obviously couldn't talk to your parents and none of your friends would get it.

so, here you are, sitting with your very handsome neighbor, the words you have just said still lingering.

you regret it immediately and the way she is raising her brows speaks volumes.

you must have made this weird. or uncomfortable. probably both.

either way, you have definitely ruined it.

"i mean uhm- shit- i" you bite the inner side of your cheek to cut yourself off. there is no point in denying it now. "i'm sorry i didn't mean to-"

"no" she interrupts and takes your hands in hers. your breath hitches in your throat. the way her long, delicate fingers wrap around your wrists does things to you. things you have never felt before.

there is a spark of something new in her eyes now. something curious maybe...? the fact that you have chosen her bedroom as a place to have this conversation is most definitely not helping.

her scent is all around you and the feeling of the soft cotton beneath your bare leg makes you want her to press your damp skin up against it and kiss all doubts off of you.

you put your hands down to your thigh and rub your palm up and down over the skin. a nervous habit that would normally help. it's not helping right now though.

she drags her finger along her own jaw in thought, her gaze still lingering upon you.

"go on" she breathes eventually.

"it's just that- god-" you inhale deeply before the words start spilling out. "i guess i never...got what it was all about, you know? this big, great feeling everyone talked out-"

"you mean like cumming?" she asks. she says it with such ease.

"y-yeah that- i mean- cumming. right. yeah. everyone is just- i don't know- it's like some big inside joke that everyone seems to know about and i am the only one who doesn't get it"

robin nods along your words.

"and it's not like i am that experienced but- maybe i'm broken?" your voice cracks at the last part.

"broken?" the woman repeats softly. "you're most definitely not broken y/n. why would you think that?"

"it just- it has never worked with anyone else you know what i mean?

when i'm alone it's...one thing. but when someone else is touching me it's just- god" you groan in frustration.

"it doesn't seem to work then”

you know you're probably all red in the face right now. but robin is so considerate, so sweet about this. you just can't seem to help yourself.

and maybe you don't want to help yourself. maybe you want her to help. maybe you want-

"i can show you" she finally says.

you nearly choke on your own spit. your eyes widen and your jaw drops.

"w-what?"

"i can show you" robin repeats. "i don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything but like...i can show you- how to touch yourself, i mean. i can-"

"please" you whisper under your breath. it's so quiet you're afraid she won't hear, because you're not sure you'll be able to repeat yourself. but of course she does.

robin puts a hand around you and lays you down slowly, so slowly that you could stop her a thousand times if you wanted to.

she lingers above you for a second, searching your eyes for any doubts but finding none.

you finally move and bring a hand up to her cheek.

her skin is so soft beneath your fingers. so soft.

"can i kiss you?" robin asks.

you nod your head and lean up to meet her halfway. nothing compares to the feeling of her lips on yours. nothing will ever compare again.

the kiss is soft at first, but you quickly grow hungry for more and part your lips. luckily she gets the hint and slides her tongue into your mouth slowly.

you gasp at the new feeling but gladly let it happen, even suck her tongue further into your mouth.

"has anyone ever made you cum?" she whispers. the rasp in her voice seems to be even more prominent when she's saying such words.

you nearly choke on your breath again and choose to shake your head before you can start to second guess your answer.

"okay" she nods. "that's okay. don't worry, we'll get you there baby, alright?"

"please robin" you don't mean to sound so desperate but you also can not decline such an offer.

"have you ever gotten yourself off?"

your eyes meet hers and you bite your lip, your mind wandering to the countless times you've run your hands down your body, imagining they were hers. you nod.

"show me" robin rasps.

"show you?" you repeat.

"yeah...show me how you would normally do it, what you like and dislike..." she stares down at you for a second before she adds. "can you be a good girl and do that for me?"

your lips part but only a strangled moan comes out. you have imagined how these words might sound from her. but actually hearing them?

you nod your head and lean back against the pillows behind you, so that you're sitting up in front of her.

she leans back and gestures for you to continue.

you keep looking at her and try not to get too self conscious while you slowly pull your panties down your legs from below your summer dress.

you can see robin visibly gulp when you throw them down the side of the bed.

you bend you legs at the knees and then spread them slowly, slightly teasing her.

"god fuck" she mumbles, proving that it's working.

you pull up your dress and your face flushes red when you expose your bare cunt to her.

she just puts a hand to your thigh to keep you open for her gaze.

you don't even know how you find the strenght to do it but you run a hand down your body and slowly begin tracing over your outer lips, fingers froming a v-shape as you spread yourself open for her to see.

"fuck-" you breathe out shakily. "fuck robin"

she squeezes your thigh gently. "i'm right here. now show me. show me how you would normally do it"

robin's gaze follows your fingers as you start stroking your clit on either side.

you immediately fight back the urge to close your thighs and choose to focus on robin instead.

robin who is sitting right there, watching you with a mesmerized, hungry expression.

"does that feel good?" she asks with watchful eyes on your dripping entrance. only the fact that she is watching you like this makes you wetter than you would get under any circumstances.

"yeah" you nod your head. "so good robin"

"is that all you do?"

"no" you bite your lip again and watch her as she tilts her head suggestively.

alright, here goes nothing.

your lashes flutter and your lips part when you dip two of your fingers down to your entrance.

you're taking aback at the feeling of your arousal. god, you really are wet.

you moan softly when you push them inside but it delights you to see that robin's expression is a reflection of your own: her lips agape and her eyelids heavy.

"god please let me touch you y/n" she whispers after a couple of thrusts under her watchful eye.

there is nothing you would want more. you lean back on the mattress and scoot further down, so that robin is towering above you.

you remove your hand from your center slowly. it's almost painful to stop now, but you know it'll only get better.

robin runs her hand up your thighs slowly and smiles when you shiver in response.

"so pretty" she whispers in amazement. "so pretty"

she runs it further and further up, over your chest, until her fingers reach your lower lip.

your eyes widen when she pulls it down slowly.

you wrap your lips around her index and middle finger and suck them past your lips eagerly.

it's an easy thing for you to take them in until the second knuckle and she just watches you in a haze as you suck on them, wettening them further.

you let them fall from your mouth once you feel like they have gotten wet enough, mostly because you can't wait much longer though. you need robin. now.

the woman brings her fingers down to your clit but stops for you to give her the final permission. you nod and her fingers find your clit.

"oh fuck" you breathe and your eyes close.

she copies the movements you have shown her, applying exactly the right amount of pressure.

"right there robin, right there" you squirm. the sensation of someone else touching you like this is so new.

and it feels so fucking good.

so good, in fact, that you start canting your hips up to meet her fingers, an attempt to pick up the pace. but robin hushes you.

"let me do the work pretty girl" she says. "just lay back and relax"

"but-" you want to protest but the words die on your tongue at one particular flick of her fingers "fuck".

"oh, you like that yeah?" she asks and raises her brows as she repeats the movement.

"fuck yeah-" you moan softly. robin now has one finger on either side of your clit, rubbing gently and in all the right ways.

you bite down on your index as you watch her and how she is looking at you while she is giving you such an insane amount of pleasure.

probably more than anyone else -including yourself- has ever given you.

"you want more, pretty girl?" she hums and her fingers toy around your entrance. all of your muscles seem to tense up at the exact same time and a breathy moan falls from your lips.

"please"

robin smiles and uses the wetness that is pooling between your thighs to cover her fingers in them. you're sure the extra makeshift lube isn't necessary but you're thankful that she is being considerate nonetheless.

your fingers wrap around her wrist in a tight grip when she pushes to fingers into your throbbing cunt.

her lips part and her eyes blink under heavy lids multiple times, almost as if she was inserting those fingers into herself rather than you.

your mouth is forming a silent 'o' as you apologetically loosen your grip. but robin doesn't mind.

"holy shit" she curses under her breath. "holy shit fuck y/n-"

"robin" you whimper when she pushes her fingers all the way inside, a wet squelching sound echoing through the room. you should feel embarrassed, you should feel ashamed, for letting your neighbor finger fuck you in her bedroom, all spread out for her. but you don't.

"you're so fucking pretty" she rasps as she starts curling her fingers against that spot inside of you. "and you sound so pretty too, you know that? god i wanna hear more..."

she picks up the pace of her thrusts as she speaks and your back arches up against her.

you can't even keep your eyes open anymore and they fall shut as you desperately rut against her hand.

"eyes on me" robin orders. "i need to see you, god-"

you obey immediately, eyes snapping open to stare up at her. your heart flutters when you see the way her hips are grinding down against the comforters below her.

she's biting her lower lip all while fucking her fingers into you without showing any signs of stopping. but you can tell by the look on robin's face that she wants something too.

"c-come here" you breathe and use your free hand to pat the spot next to you. robin raised her brows in surprise and you glare down to where she is rocking against the mattress.

only the fact that you got her to this point has another wave of arousal washing through you.

"i- i want to...help you too" you blush "can i?"

robin is next to you in an instant. she has to remove her fingers from you for a second, which seems painful, but becomes nearly irrelevant the second she starts unbuttoning her pants for you.

excitement rushes through you as she undresses for you and pulls down both her pants and her underwear.

your eyes glue to the wet patch in her panties before she throws them aside and spreads her own legs, your thighs bumping together in the process.

she looks over at you and your eyes meet.

"are you sure?" she asks and puts a strand of hair behind your ear. "we don't-"

you cut robin off my pressing your lips together in a searing kiss. she gasps in surprise but lets it happen. she places her palm on your cheek while you're making out and moans into your mouth openly.

eventually, you run a hand down her body and she follows suit. you copy her motions and you let your hands wander down the other's body synchronized.

you stop when your palm in cupping her mound and exhale shakily when you feel her wetness against your fingers.

her eyes don't leave yours when she nods and you both dip two fingers into the other's cunt.

you do your best to copy what robin is doing inside of you but it seems to be working, judging by the constant curses and moans that robin can't hold back.

after just a couple of minutes, she goes faster again. slowly at first, you barely notice it, but then her thrusts become uncoordinated too.

"fuck" she groans while she is spreading her legs further. you can see them shaking even from where you're sitting "just like that...good girl"

your own orgasm is fast approaching now. you've been turned on from the minute you walked into her house but would've never guessed that the day would take such turns.

"oh robin" you moan. "fuck you're- your fingers- god"

she lets her head drop back against the pillows, eyes closed and mouth hanging open while her arousal is soaking into the fabric beneath her.

your jaw goes completely slack when she starts rubbing her thumb over your clit and the last thing you can really do is circle your own thumb over her clit as well before the pleasure starts reaching its peak.

"i'm- i think- oh god- i-" you don't even know how to say it.

"fuck, me too" robin moans and that is pretty much all it takes.

your back arches and with obscene moans of her name on your lips, you cum all over her fingers and coat her hands and the blanket below with your release.

you don't stop your own hand from moving, despite the fact that your wrists hurt from the angle, and fuck robin over the edge of her own orgasm as well.

your name sounds so pretty when she calls it out as she cums, a sight you could probably get used to.

"just like that, just like that- fuck- so good for me" robin moans.

neither of you stops until the other is shaking from the aftershocks and can't keep up anymore.

you withdraw your fingers from her slowly and turn to face her. she does the same and you find yourself staring at her. at her beautiful facial features, her freckled skin, and soft lips.

once she has caught her breath, she speaks.

"i've been waiting for this" she whispers.

"me too" you admit and bite your lip.

"you're beautiful"

you know this is only the beginning and there really is no stopping you after what you've done just now.

but maybe that's good. maybe you really want it. and maybe she does too.

it sure seems like it, when she leans in and kisses you.

[twsthc]

savanaclaw headcanons and projection 🦁

...this is what the poll from like last week was for. sorry heartslabyul and diasomnia fans teehee </3

⚠️ warnings: self harm, eating disorders

last updated: may 4, 2024

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR !! 🦁🥩

🇲🇱🇹🇿🇰🇪 UNLABLED + INTERSEX TRANSFEMNEU (she/him)

APPEARANCE HCS:

Leona is actually the twst character I've drawn the most

I hc all beastmen to have fur everywhere thats elastic and akin to mink skin

You know the texture of squishmallows? It's like that.

╰Doesn't include the thick hair in other places (head, facial, armpits, chest, pubes, etc)

Lots of scars in general + healed dermis self harm scars on thighs

Has a flat nose like a cat

RANDOM HCS:

Savanaclaw mom/big sister...

Overstimulating thunderstorm? Go whine to Leona. Diasomnia students bothering you? Get leona to deal with them. Your food is too hot? Cry to Leona.

During freshman year she was way more outgoing and extroverted but eventually She mellowed out (depression moment)

She used to change hairstyles a lot before settling on freeform dreads

Also got into way more fights back then (also how she became housewarden)

Now she is (kind of) calm. Tranquil. At peace. Has depressive episodes. Relaxed.

Mostly does her own thing, and if that "thing" isn't sleeping it's some other bullshit the underclassmen roped her into

SHE CAN SEW AND MAKE JEWLERY

╰While wandering the castle one day, Leona stumbled upon the servants quarters. They taught him life skills (mending clothes, cooking, etc :3)

Despite being a big sis figure if she doesn't want to do something she Will Not.

And if she does do it afterall it's because she gets something out of it.

NPD, GAD, PDD (persistent depressive disorder)

RUGGIE BUCCHI !! 🍩🌼

🇺🇸🇧🇷 UNLABLED + TRANS MAN (he/him)

APPEARANCE HCS:

Similarly to Leona he has a furry textured skin

Though his body hair is more coarse and longer due to him being a hyena

He has a lazy eye and tipped ear similar to Ed from The Lion King

Probably my second most drawn twst character :3

Healed epidermis self harm scars on inner wrists 🥶

RANDOM HCS:

He's like the cooler afrolatino Luke Blovad

He's either winning the idgaf wars or dying on the battlefield

Has an insane collection of weird shirts from thrift stores

And he makes it work every single time! his outfits go crazy!

More connected to his AADOS/Gullah side than his Brazilian side

Though he does speak Portugese!

In fact, he speaks multiple languages because polyglots are marketable

The type of person to take a half empty bottle of ketchup and rotting apple from an empty ass fridge and make dinner happen

Constantly going to Scarabia to snag their party leftovers

Used to be a scene kid!!!! This is canon and true!!!! Pls trust me

diabetes, GAD, MDD, undiagnosed ADHD

triggering content ahead !!

he has bulimia nervosa

╰fun fact! a lot of food insecure people have eating disorders

self harmed a lot from the ages from 10-12 before eventually stopping at 13

he stopped after his grandma found out and started checking his arms regularly (#projecting)

JACK HOWL !! 🐺🌵

🪶🇪🇬 PANROMANTIC ASEXUAL + GENDER CURIOUS (he/they)

APPEARANCE HCS:

WAY thicker fur than leona and ruggie

Trims his body hair a lot because he overheats in savanaclaw easily

RANDOM HCS:

The type of guy to be totally in love with the world and nature

They're just like. Wow. We were put on a spinning rock. With food to eat, and water drink, and air to breathe. I love being alive.

Had a little garden back at home and named every single plant

Remembers small things about people and brings them up in conversation

╰Hey dude I got you a Chipotle bowl. How did I remember your exact order? You told me. Yeah, I know it was a year ago, but--

Random but I think he dresses how Tupac did

Not even to be tough

But because he's a black suburban kid

(I'm a black city kid but this is probably how black suburban kids dress trust)

Loooves chewing on things. Has one of those chew necklaces

Autistic with botany and physical health special interest

[deityoftherain]

traffic life superpowers au ft. Tango&Scott&Pearl

Tango is acting as my main character starting off in this AU, with Scott as his secondary main character in healing flowers and festivals and ferris wheels. I'm going to share their power sets here and will show others later! If you have any questions, let me know! I am also proud of some of the superpowers I came up with for this AU so far with Scott's being one of them. (I used & in the title as "and" but the endgame is snowbugs.) Edit: I realized I never made a post with Pearl's information somehow, so I'm taking her on here.

Tango Kilo (He/Him) Alter Ego: Phoenix Status: Blaze Hybrid Vigilante Power(s): Tango has unspecified fire/etc abilities associated with his hybrid status that includes (but not limited to) a tail, controlled fire hair on his head and tail, and what is basically firebending.

Fun Fact: Tango is on the NATO alphabet and so is Kilo! I did the K because of teK. In addition, kilo is a form of measurement which makes sense to me because he's a redstoner in canon. Also, also, the name Kilo means "one who observes the stars" and this man is gay as fuck for Scott aka Starflower. Triple name meaning, babyyyy :D

Scott Cherry (He/Him) Alter Ego: Starflower Status: Human Villain Power(s): Scott can create flowers on his body. With those flowers, he can manipulate (to lesser or greater effect) and induce the side effects that would occur if the person he touches would have eaten it. Scott is also has been known to create his own flowers to fit various needs (such as the flowers that create portals), but no one is sure how he does it.

Fun Fact: Scott's alter ego name and abilities are pulled from his love of flowers and the star symbolism we often give him in the life series fandom. Cherry is pulled from cherry blossoms, which are a type of flower, but also the biome he lived in during SL.

Pearl Ascent (She/Her) Alter Ego: Scarlet Moon Status: Human Villain Power(s): Pearl experiences "buffs" or perks during the night, including increased agility, speed, focus, hearing, etc. She can always see perfectly in dark rooms and in low light, sort of like night vision. She also has this thing where she can just understand dogs, even though they aren’t directly speaking human language. No one knows if this is an ability or not because they can’t exactly test it easily.

Fun Fact: Pearl's last name is meant to sound like the second half of "pearlescent" which I thought was clever and a way not to use "Moon" since that is included in her villain name. ... I also like to think that she's a common sapphic crush <3

[paeliae-occasionally]

Writer Questionnaire

Thanks @drchenquill, @the-letterbox-archives, @the-golden-comet and @ominous-feychild the tags!

I haven’t posted in a little bit because of real life, but I might be back soon. I miss you guys…

how long have you had your writing tumblr/writeblr? a fast and loose estimate is fine!

Just over a month.

what led you to create it?

I wanted to chat about my world and I really didn’t like the atmosphere in other social medias.

what’s your favourite thing about the writeblr community?

All of the talent and love <3 Making this account has motivated me to plan 3 different WIPs and write the first few chapters. I had never been able to get to this place before, so thank you everyone!

what’s one thing you’d like your mutuals to know about you?

Feel free to ask things. Even if it is just a hello! I love interacting with people, any questions about my world or my writing process. Or Physics if you are particularly curious…

is there anything you’d like to see more of on your dash?

I like my dash. Lots of great people!! I wouldn’t really change anything.

which wips or writing projects are you noodling about, lately?

I have just finished by full outline of the Xaeren WIP and have written a draft of chapter one. I have also finished chapter 3 of Paeliae.

how long have you been working on them?

Well I started building the world years ago, just daydreams, maps and languages. I wrote the history mostly last year and this year and then the characters developed from the places and history.

do you remember what inspired them/what got you started?

The world was a project I started just for fun, then acted as a setting to tell stories in. I then liked the stories a lot and decided to write them.

how much time, in your best estimation, do you spend thinking about them?

A long time. Not even just my current characters, many many more people who don’t even fit in this world as well.

when someone asks the dreaded, “what do you write about,” question, what do you usually say?

Umm… I say Sci-fi fantasy, and worldbuilding, then when they look blankly at me I say like tolkein and then they leave me alone.

name any characters you created. side characters, protagonists, antagonists, characters who’ve never been written, the first original abomination you ever pulled from your ass; whomever you’d like!

The main characters in chronological order:

-Ez and Rin (they are the the first romantic relationship I wrote and I love them.)

-Paeliae (His story describes the dissolution.)

-Xaeren (The inventor of most runes and the last godkiller.)

-Apollo and Tyro (Essentially modern day)

-Marsh and Daimion (I’m still not sure how future-ish I want this.)

who’s the most unhinged?

That really depends.

I’m sure lots of people would expect Marsh, but while he has no internal rules against murder, he keeps closely to the rules he does hold for himself and is really loyal when it comes down to it. Even if he doesn’t realise this he does care deep in some hidden part of him.

Xaeren cares the least about his own moral code. The only motivator he has is killing the goddess, and there is nothing he won’t do to get there regardless of the fact he knows it is wrong. He assumes he will die in the attempt so lives like a dead man because he has no life beyond this purpose. He might appear kind at first but you will always be second to his mission.

who comes the most naturally for you to write?

Apollo or Marsh. Apollo because he is lovely, I always like writing him comfort the team and also his fight scenes are really cool. Marsh because he acts so carefree and his humour is great.

do you ever cringe at them?

Yes. Mainly because I hate my writing, but also I just don’t like writing romance in general, so writing Zahra and Daimion has always been a bit weird. Strangely I never got that vibe with Ez and Rin, that might be because they are such a beautiful tragic couple that the story feels less like a romance.

how much control do you feel you have over your characters? do they ever “write themselves,” refuse to cooperate, or do things you didn’t expect? to what degree? are some less cooperative than others?

Well… I have a very clear idea of who they are and would much sooner change a plot point than a character so in that sense I have little control, but also they are my people so I can get them to cooperate.

do you enjoy people asking questions about your characters? and do you have a preferred means of receiving said questions? for example, as asks, as replies, as reblogs, as tag notes, as comments on ao3, etc.

Yes!!! I love it, any method is great! I am more likely to see asks and reblogs, but anything works!

what makes you want to follow another writeblr account? do you follow ‘em as you see ‘em, or take time scoping out the blog to make sure you align with its content? do you follow based on wips, or vibes?

Vibes. If they seem cool, I will follow them. I’ll likely do a quick check to make sure that they seem like a real person and that they make posts that I would like to see, but this is not usually based on their WIP type.

what makes you decide against following?

If I wouldn’t like to see their posts, I won’t follow them. This could be for many reasons, but common ones include: They seem like a bot, they post overobscene stuff, they make me feel uncomfortable, etc.

do you interact with non-mutuals often?

Sometimes, but if I interact with someone I am likely to then follow them.

do your mutuals’ characters occupy space in your noodle?

Yes! I have so many peoples characters whom I love and cherish.

Tagging @saturnine-saturneight, @theink-stainedfolk, @phoenixradiant and @oliolioxenfreewrites

[irlusa]

can u explain scotpru to me? i’m very curious about this ship

Oh I would be HAPPY to lmao

So scotpru (for me) started because of a gereng rp I did with a friend ages ago that had both Gilbert and Alasdair as characters.

Keep in mind I'm not much on the historical side of hetalia so I can't speak on reasons to ship them re: concrete historical potential trading or connections the people may have had.

BUT, that being said, when it comes to nationverse, Gilbert and Alasdair both are somewhat older nations who have seen and experienced a lot of the world. They have quite a rough (and often annoying) exterior to their younger brothers, but at the same time have a genuine and warmhearted love for certain cultural aspects that they cultivate and put pride in. Both share a love of handcrafted pieces, whether they're old engraved weapons or woodworked furniture or illuminated manuscripts, they put value in creating something yourself and putting in the time and effort to learn that skill.

In my eyes, they connect via old tales of the world and the other nations when they were younger, as well as clashing in the kitchen in a positive, poking fun kind of way. Scotland cooks more often, Prussia bakes more often (which Scotland doesn't complain about at all, who would when they're getting served sweets?)- though Scotland's cooking style is much messier and "intuition" based versus Prussia's meticulous recipe notes and measuring and cleaning practices. And oh, they love to work on projects together that can utilize both their strengths- it's kind of one of their love languages in a way.

Also, Scotland's voice matches Prussia's flute perfectly, and both of them adore hearing the other play. It's soothing. They love the outdoors and often go camping or out on daytrips into the countryside where no one else will hear them play together, like a personal little show they put on for their ears only.

Beyond concrete interests that are similar, Alasdair and Gil also seek out each other in the sense that, because they have these sorts of connections with each other, they can find comfort in each other. They know how the other grew up, they've seen them grow and change over the years. They don't have to put on the strong unaffected persona with each other when they're alone. Gilbert appreciates that Alasdair doesn't treat him any different after being dissolved- doesn't look at him with barely-held back pity and annoyance. And Scotland knows that despite being the eldest and supposedly having all his shit together, when he feels like everything is falling apart he can come to Gilbert, who will put aside his usually abrasive front to welcome Alasdair with open arms. They learn to open up emotionally and trust each other. Neither are the best with words, though Alasdair is worse imo, and so they're able to pick up on each other's nonverbal cues and signs of affection that others might not note. And I do just like Gilbert's explosive energy next to Alasdair's slightly more laid-back vibes.

I feel like it's one of those relationships where neither actually said "I love you" for a very long time, it was just mutually understood that they shared a bond with each other that they didn't feel with anyone else.

Humanverse and other aus have similar notes to them- in my mind they often meet at say, a bar or pub, or even perhaps at daycare while dropping of their siblings depending on the au, and begin connections through some mix of love of history, music, baking and cooking, crafting, and/or just the fact that both can often feel like outsiders in their current community, and said relations bloom from there.

Anyway I love them so so much and I hope this messily-worded collection of thoughts helps convey why ehee

[momo-de-avis]

Oh, that Jeronimos gossip sounds interesting. What do you mean, it was a scandal?

In the 19th century, everyone in Europe was traversing an identity crisis and sought to define their own nationalism. So nations in europe looked back at their past and tried to think, which moment of the past signified our biggest glory? The answer to this question is whatever revival you see in the country's capital city. Paris with Gothic. England with Tudor. Greece is easy to answer. Italy, take a guess.

Well we realised, it has to be Manuel I, because that's when we were an EmPiRe. Glorious constructions! Colonialism! Imperialism!

More so, at this moment, and this when the subject of Art History is being developed into a field of studies and not just an "I have opinions" type of thing, people figured it was at this moment that Portugal, because it had so much money, developed its own style. A style uniquely portuguese, an architectural language that willingly (willingly!) rejected the renaissance, which could only mean we were SO POWERFUL. A style that is comprised of all these new ExOtIc things we were discovering across the globe, and which apparently celebrates the discoveries because wow look at all these ropes on these windows!

On a side note: now that we're in 2023, that is 90% false. Most art historians disagree that Manuelino is an architectural style at all. The "ropes" are not ropes and never were. There is some "exoticism" in the buildings, yes, but they're not there because "haha white man never seen an elephant before". They're actually symbols of power and they're documents of events that happened in history. Fun stuff, but as usual, the romantics were wrong.

So with this settled among the portuguese people, everyone decided we must find the most glorious example of this architecture! And hey! We have it! It's the Jeronimos Monastery! The greatest gem of Manuelino!

Just one problem.

In the 19th century, the monastery was in ruins.

In 1833, religious orders were annhiliated off the face of this country, for several reasons that to this day bother the shit out of historians, but the fact of the matter is that we have a fuckton of them, way to fucking many, and they're been hoarding shit like fucking dragons. To give you an idea, there was so much shit (and I mean art, jewellery, paintings, sculpture, etc) that entire wings of the National Museum of Ancient Art were FILLED with just the crap found inside these convents.

The Jeronimos Monastery was one of the many shut down, the monks then had to go elsewhere (which is when they sold the recipe for the custard tarts of Belém to the store that is still today, and why it is still a secret). Soon after, the Monastery became home to Casa Pia, which is kind of like an orphanage for the non-portuguese people.

When this debate was happening, the monastery was in near-ruins. I mean, completely run down. So it was a huge shame at the time.

Now, mind you, this is the kind of debate that the average Zé doesn't give a shit about, and at the time, the government wasn't really concerned about this.

Enter Alexandre Herculano, and Almeida Garrett got his hand in this too. The historian decided to raise a campaign to call everyone's attention to the sorry state the monastery was in, and how shameful it was for us, the portuguese, to leave such a building to be in such a state.

It was also around this time that the word "manuelino" was coined. Vernhagen comes up with the term, but it's Almeida Garrett (WHO WAS ENGLISH, I HAVE TO KEEP REMINDING EVERYONE HE WAS ENGLISH) defined the style.

Herculano's campaign worked, and the government decided to find a project to recover the monastery.

This is when the scandals starts.

I don't know from memory, but we're looking at something like 6 different architects who were rejected. Now, this is the 19th century, a time when the concepts of "restoration" and "conservation" are being discussed. For a quiuck rundown on the two: in western europe, there's Conservation, led by John Ruskin, who defends that buildings should have no intervention, but instead, we should do our best to preserve them and then let nature run its course, until collapses. And then there's Viollet-le-Duc, in France, who defends Restoration: that we absolutely must intervene in buildings, and we are free to rebuild parts of it and make additions, even if they are 500 years away, but to do so, we must use modern materials such as iron or steel, so that the untrained eye can immediately see that this is different, and thus this must be recent. In Portugal, we mostly follow Viollet-le-Duc's perspective.

So, with Viollet-led-Duc being the favoured theorist here, when we talk about "restoring" the monastery, we're talking about heavy intervention. But this was still fresh, so the enlightened individuals at the time took this to mean "let's just make shit up".

The entire souther wing of the monastery, what is today the archeological and naval museums, was made up. Admittedly, it was rebuilt based on what it used to look like, but... much more. Compare it with this painting from, I believe the 17th century:

There's something really funny here, which is: the monastery was in a shit state because of neglect. The 1755 earthquake actually, and miraculously, barely affected Belém.

You see that tower there? That is the original belltower. It's simple, because that's the dominating style at the time, and what the original architects went for. Today there's this thing

this was designed by an architect who, and I am sighing as I type this, came up with this shit, "an indian-style dome", to honour Vasco da Gama's achievements and our presence in India. It's no wonder this shit was Salazar's wet dream.

Eventually, they just keep adding shit. The entire southern body, as I stated, is one of them, which used to be the dormitories. When you look at what the monastery looks like today and compare it with the 17th century painting, you'll notice that the 19th century version is "a lot more". There's just a lot more shit going on. They basically waged on verticality, and added and added shit to make the monumento not only more vertical, but more symmetrical, which is NOT what was going on with the monastery before this.

If you look at that painting, you'll notice that there's something there that is not in the monastery anymore. Where today is the main entrance, kind of like a closed atrium that leads you not only to the monastery proper but the façade of the church (the western portal), in the painting, it has a massive body built on top of it. That body is gone, instead there's an open space, that ugly ass dome, and two spires opposite from it--both a 19th century invention. That "body" was meant to be one of two things: a sort of customs for every commercial ship coming from india, or a connection to a Palace Manuel I might have wanted to build here (this second one seems most likely to me). They tore the whole fucking down.

Then comes the graver thing.

So, by 1880, 12 projects had been submitted, each one of them is fighting for dear life to reconstruct this shit. At one point, this became a political matter. There's a lot of background to why this became such a heated debate: the britsh ultimatum, for example, really depressed the people enough that it was the perfect event to speak of Portugal's clonial past with nostalgic tears, and then there was this massive mound of stone that was falling apart that was supposed to signify this lost glory. Restoring the monastery meant restoring PORTUGAL'S PAST!

In this wild fever of "making shit up" and, as one intellectual of the time called it, I sincerely don't remember who but I can still hear my professor quoting this in class, "make Manuelino more than Manuelino truly is", then comes, I think he was an italian architect, and he has a GREAT idea.

Let's build a fucking tower.

Now, this tower was supposed to go in the middle of the southern body, standing where today is the main entrance to the Archeological Museum.

Let's look at this again

As you can see, no tower.

(Slight edit: there is a tower, but it's barely tower, it's so tiny I didn't even consider it a tower lmfao this thingw as really not bothered about VERTICALITY)

Like, I cannot highlight enough how 90% of what you see here today is just entirely made up, a completely made-up version of Manuelino that is NOT what we know Manuelino to be today, and a reflection of 19th century nationalism (which, to be fair, is different from Salzar's nationalism, though in a way that a rightist grandpa is different from his rightist grandson). But the tower was the epitome of this, and when shit got so wild they FINALLY stepped back and said "maybe we took it too far".

This italian guy goes ahead and just starts building the tower. I dont' remember the exact height, but this tower was HIGH. So high, immediately people who knew their shit told this guy it couldn't hold, because the building was from THE FUCKING 16TH CENTURY and didn't have the tructure to hold so much vertical weight. My man gave no shits. This is about when the myth of gothic being "high constructions cause people were trying to reach god" comes along, so they kinda thought this was the proper way to honour Manuelino and make it, as the mysterious dude said, more manuelino than manuelino truly is.

Here is an engraving of HALF of what it was supposed to look like, made during construction:

In 1878 construction starts. In December, the entire thing collapses, killing 10 workers.

This is exactly where this very famous photo comes from

This is what the Monastery looked like after it was botched and botched repeatedly. It started off as the gem of manuelino, and ended as the duchess of Alba of monuments, essentially.

This was so scandalous, EVERYONE wrote about it. Not only had further damage been caused to the monastery, it had caused the deaths of 10 workers. Those who had been trying to warn everyone to maybe don't overdo it, finally had their time to shine.

My absolutely favourite criticism comes from Ramalho Oritgão, who said about this new tower: "It couldn't fall from old age, so it fell from shame."

They had to abandon every project from this moment on. Reconstruction of this part of the moment would resume quickly, but they abandoned the idea of a tower altogether. But the entire campaign would only come to a complete end in 1940, by when this entire area of Belém became a fascist's wet dream to welcome the Portuguese World Exhibition. By then, however, MOST construction was concluded, and it was just soom rooms that were wrapped up.

The most interesting thing about this is that one of the people who witnessed this collapse was an englishman who would go on back home and, inspired by this event, build his own church, his own massive tower, and then do it disproportionately so it would collapse, all because he was so fascinated by this event. I keep forgetting who this was and what church we're talking about. I keep getting Fonthill Abbey but I'm not sure if that's it. And the reason he did that does have to fo with Ruskin's conservationism theories, where, if you're going to preserve things until the end, then you're going to love ruins (which is why so many british gardens have these small made-up ruins to discover), so this guy really wanted to build a church that would look like a ruin, couldn't come up with it, came to Portugal, witnessed this shit, and... voilà.

[imaginedmelody]

please feel free to talk about any of your middle aged gays wips I would LOVE to hear about any of them 👀💖

Beloved, this is literally my love language and you KNOW that 💖💖💖 A few of these are either not quite middle-aged or only one of the two members is, but here we go:

Allen Hynek & Michael Quinn, Project Blue Book- Listen, I know Allen Hynek was a real person, but the version of him in this TV series is very fictional and my version is even more so 🤣My top WIP right now is an aromantic-Allen fic which I am going to tentatively say is ALMOST done. It's what I'm usually working on in sprints (and I'm going to say something bold here: there's one passage in this that may be some of my favorite words I've ever written.) This pairing has the cocky fighter pilot/nerdy professor dynamic we've all been waiting for. The show is enjoyable if not outstanding, cancelled 1 season before it should have ended, and the fandom is not nearly big enough.

Irving & Burt, Severance- The ULTIMATE canon yearning! I've been working on a fic about them for months, but the fact that there's so much mystery associated with this show means that trying to write a romantic interaction with them outside of Lumon is proving complicated, lol. I've written pretty much all of it except the part that requires any explanation of the logistics of this show's universe. IDK, I am just deeply drawn to the vulnerability of two people whose knowledge of each other is confined to this very limited existence, stepping outside of that place's boundaries and discovering each other in the process. This fic has Irv and Burt flirting over classical music as well; between pieces I'm going to mention in the fic and other non-classical pieces that remind me of the pairing, I'm tempted to include a playlist along with this when I publish it.

Ted Lasso & Trent Crimm, Ted Lasso- Okay, okay, I don't have any solid WIPs about these two at the moment (there's one I started a long time ago that is in sleep mode until I figure out what I want to do with it), but Season 3 premieres March 15th and Trent Crimm apparently plays a "significant role" in it, so you KNOW I will have ideas in the very near future. I enjoy writing these two so much; they have such unique voices and that is so much fun to play with as a writer. Plus this trope is like grumpy/sunshine if the sunshine was secretly a clinically anxious mess of a human and the grumpy's harsh exterior was only a facade and he was unexpectedly very willing to have an open mind and see the good in someone.

Murray Bauman & Alexei, Stranger Things- (Alexei probably isn't quite "middle aged" here, but I'm including this anyway) Another underrated pairing, but I love their dynamic. Two people on opposite sides who could very easily be bitter enemies, but who (in the show, in canon) instead bond with each other so quickly! They snark and sass, but Murray is quite literally the only person who speaks Alexei's language, in personality as well as in actual words. I've already written fic for them, and I thought that was gonna be it, but I have more to say, lol

There are so many more middle-aged gays I love but haven't written for too! Truly we are in our best era with all of these wonderful pairings.

[vasito-de-leche]

also, also —

I wrote out so many quotes 'cause your language is beautiful and you manipulate it to express complicated figures with simple words so easily is breathtaking. SO I took many quotes and one seriously got on my mind

"would you forgive him just as readily if he were to kill someone in front of you?" I feel like I'd need you elaborate on that one. The thought looks curious as an idea for a situation but at the same time I understand how easily forgiving reader would be borderline ignoring severance of the situation(maybe??? Im still not sure how this works since we got fans already knowing he unalives ppl easily in the first place + the whole setting does collocate with high death rate so...) and on the other hand, abandoning him is just gameover. So I thought the closest to actually getting through this situation without being too unrealistic would be two options

First one is probably classical "y/n already knew it before and them getting close to FMN was with that fact taken into account" and the second one is (mourning the loss of life then) turning to him to adress the issue and try to figure some other ways to "win" without killing anybody(paralyze potion??? More mind games? idk). As if it's _our_ problem and not just his. tldr: jokes on him we are not getting off of that ship.

sorry for this getting too big. you've awakened a dog and it's rabid

NEVER APOLOGIZE FOR SHARING YOUR THOUGHTS, I LOVE LOVE LOVE DISCUSSING THINGS IN-DEPTH WITH PEOPLE! this is us right now, we're sitting and talking about FMN's unstable mental health together and we're holding hands and we're having fun

when I wrote that oneshot, I wanted to keep everything as vague as possible when it came to the reader - this includes their involvement with FMN's and how they tackle the ticking bomb that is his personality and moral compass!

the only thing regarding the reader that I wanted to come across is that the reader cares about him to some degree - the depths of those feelings are pretty much up to you and how you feel about FMN

the SECOND thing I wanted to come across is the fact that FMN lives in his own head, so everything HE perceives about the reader is either projection or wishful thinking, like. you CANNOT take him at face value because everything he thinks and says is a contradiction. he's obsessed with you but both denies it and revels in it, he spends so much time observing you but also misses INCREDIBLY OBVIOUS things about you. he loves you and he hates you. etc etc.

so when FMN starts thinking all that shit about how would you react if he were to kill someone in front of you, that's all intrusive thoughts. they make no sense and are fueled by impulse and things he doesn't actually want to engage in (but might, just because he's one hair away from constantly ruining his own life in one way or another, FMN is self-destructive above all else)

the message underneath is that he simply just wants to keep being awful and irredeemable because he wants to show you that he's ugly inside and outside because he's STILL pretending to be a smooth and very hinged person. it wasn't meant to establish that the reader NEVER saw him kill or commit any other atrocities, or that they're willingly blind or anything else - again, those aspects are left vague for whoever reads this to fill in the blanks AND FMN cannot be trusted in here, especially when reading his POV

ultimately, I can't start elaborating on how the reader would react if they saw FMN kill people fireworks style after this oneshot - because YOU are the reader, I don't control your thoughts or perception. in this oneshot, the character of the "reader" lacks any sort of backstory, motivations, or any solid info to even start thinking if they'd forgive FMN or abandon him or whatever, if that makes sense. I didn't establish if they're an arcanist or human, if they're mixed or infected, if they're willingly siding with Manus or are blind to FMN's affiliations with them, etc. it's all up to you in the end! you get to pick how you'd react in the aftermath!

if we were talking about more specifics like, "how about a reader who rejects the foundation and believes in manus?" or "can you write about a human reader caught up in the crossfire?". those things I can deffo work with because there's context for me to start from

hope this made sense, and ty for the asks!! always a treat to see more FMN fans <3

[writtenonreceipts]

Hi friend! How are you today?

I have an idea for a multichapter fanfic but I've never written one before and usually my fics are are more or less 1.5k words long and oneshots. I wrote a oneshot of around 3k once, but that's it. I don't know if it is because English isn't my first language and because I've been told once that I tend to focus too much on descriptions instead of narration, but it looks like to me that I have some sort of "summarizing style" 🥲 also, I write with fear of commitment to long-term fics, as I tend to loose focus and feel drained by the idea of writing so much. Even if I enjoy sitting with my laptop and write a lot (it's satisfying reducing the zoom on Word and watch how many pages I've completed 🙈)

Please, do you have any tips about not fearing a project? How did you stay focused writing FTLOTG and any other multichapter fic you have? And which is the minimum word count for a chapter, in your opinion?

Thank you for reading my ask!

Hey friend! I’m doing well, kept thinking today was Monday when in fact, it is not, haha! So I kept being pleasantly surprised tomorrow is Thursday, thus almost the weekend…any ways

Thanks for reaching out!  As usual once I start talking I don’t shut up.  Made worse that this is written and no one is here to physically restrain me from continuing…take what I say as it works best for you!

First and foremost, all the encouragement and excitement I could possibly rain down on you, I am right now.  Multi-chapters are so much fun, but it is a bit terrifying to take the plunge with.  I think the most important thing to remember is making your style your own and using that to your advantage.  There’s no right or wrong way to tell a story and finding what works best for YOU is the most important part.

Admission time—I am always terrified.  I have been writing for a long time now—not just fic.  I’ve written a few OG novels in between fic and such and really?  It is scary!  Especially when it’s a longer project that you are excited about and really want to share but worry about how well you’ve written or if anyone will like it or if you’ve just wasted time.  (Spoiler: I don’t believe you’re ever wasting time when you’re creating/writing.)

The more I’ve written the more I’ve come to the unfortunate conclusion that plotting is actually really good for your story.  I usually love starting with my random idea (Aelin is a journalist and has to put up with Rowan being a jerk and the tension that flares between them) and just going for it.  FTLOTG mostly came around by me flying by the seat of my pants, only planning when I had to.  When I knew how it was going to end, that’s what gave me a little better direction on the in between.  But if I had taken more time to actually plan that story and work on expanding the plot and characters, I think I would have been more satisfied.

Plotting and outlining also are great ways for you to stay excited and see where the story comes together.

SWAK is one that I’ve plotted out a bit and I can see where different development points have to come in.  Feyre and Rhysand bridging the gap of hating each other?  A hurt comfort scene of Feyre having a nightmare can help with that and open up more ways for them to be vulnerable together.  So now I know how to make the next few chapters a bit more interesting while working with the main plot of the stalker.

Finding these side plots and development features can be a lot of fun and add to the main story so much!  I love the little scenes that at first don’t seem that important but in the end really show off a character’s development.  Like in FTLOTG, Aelin taking Rowan to Malakai’s shop for the first time, how vulnerable that made her but left room for the two to grow together in that moment.

I don’t think there’s any proper word count limit for a chapter, really.  Each chapter can serve as a mini story arc and when the arc is done, it’s done.  I usually tend to aim for 3k words though.  For stories like WWB WWG when I’m trying to get a lot more in (and trying to move plot along a little quicker) I extend that to 5 or 6k words.  But really?  It’s what feels right to you.  I would suggest not cutting off without giving a certain lead in to a fade to black.  Unless it’s a cliffhanger…if that makes sense.  Sometimes abrupt endings just leave a sour taste when there’s nothing BIG happening.  Make sure things are cohesive and work together within the chapter, you could almost consider a chapter a mini-oneshot.  If a chapter feels complete at 1k, that’s it.  If you need to expand some scenes and it gets a little longer, great!  Generally I would say no less then 1k, thought.

But really, and I cannot emphasize this enough, do what works for you! 

Again, sorry, I probably just dumped so much on you that you don’t even care about…I just like talking about writing, haha.  Anyways.  You are going to do great!  The most important thing is to have fun and write for yourself.  If you are proud of the story your telling, that’s all that matters.  Also, your English is great <3

[marsipain]

I'm gonna lose it man. Why it took me so long to see Ninjaglow?? Omgakwpwjjd I don't even know where to start with. Zane's mask, and Kai wkskowkw I just can't- like Lloyd mygOD 

Me and myself has a hc of the kind of voice Lloyd would have, and I just have this feeling he would be so good at singing and you putting Morro at his side with Rumi. The reason for this is because I do too have an on-going project and that amazes me how everything you envisioned feels so layered, with a lot of deep thought involved. And I love the fact that it is close to what I envision for Ninjago, what I have been writing. Come on 'The Party Animals', it gives me goosebumps. The underworld, the half oni and dragon thing so eager to let it out completely. And well for me, there's something about Ninjago involving racing. There's a perspective of mine involving some subjects I am interested in. The race concept can address a lot of concepts involving the art of Spinjitzu. 

I was asking myself about sending you an ask of your hc's a while ago and now, for real, I want to learn more about them. 

And I am very interested in the Q&A. I don't know if you got any thoughts on that but the driving thing, there's a villain or is it more about the competition itself? The prize? You see kwodkwks you can't just left me wondering if it is just for the fun of it, about the tension between some characters or if is there something else at stake.

*Please ignore any mistakes from my side, not my first language <3*

HI THANK YOU SO MUCH !! SORRY IT TOOK ME LITERAL MONTHS TO GET TO THIS ASK I HONESTLY FORGOT i AND IM SO SO SORRY 😭 !!

I’m so happy you enjoy the AU! I’m working on it still, and actually I’m opening a Q&A for it in a couple minutes so if you have any questions you can ask there :D

[alisa-sokolov17]

Virtual Sketchbook

an introduction, tell us one little known fact about you.

Hello all! My name is Alisa Sokolov and a few facts about me are that I love to be outdoors running or spending time at the beach. I recently moved from Illinois and love the weather here in Florida much better.

2.  Then, in list form, detail 5 new facts you were able to find out about your assigned artist or the art work. 

Christo and Jeanne-Claude 1979-2005 The Gates. Steel, Vinyl, Fabric; 7,503 gates, 16’ tall, 23 miles

-This piece of art was found in Central park which included the completion of 7,503 panels which were made out of fabric. 

-The fabric was weaved, sown and all put together in Germany. 

-The Gates were fully financed by Christo and Jeanne-Claude and they did not take any donations or help from anyone else. 

-The Gates looked like two different things from different angles. When looking at it from above, it looked like a golden river as it was flowing through the leafless tree branches. 

-The teams that installed these Gates were responsible for installing 100 panels per team. Each team included 8 people. 

3. Did the way you think about the art change from the first time you looked at it? Do you see anything different in the art now?

 When I first found out about this assignment, I expected my piece to be a painting or a drawing but this was an interesting idea to call art but definitely expanded my mind to more art as this piece is a big selection of pieces all put together to create one big piece of artwork. My idea of art changed a lot because art is more than just a picture or painting. I was able to see more detail in my art piece knowing how much effort was put into it as well as the color being so bright which can bring someone so much joy on a gloomy day.  

2.  Art and writing 

The piece of art I chose for this assignment is a painting of a river in the center, tall trees on each side of the river and some mountains in the back. This piece of art is very beautiful in my opinion because it is simple and easy to tell what it is. It is painted so it looks as if it were very textured although that is just the illusion because it was used with paint. The use it serves on my wall is adding a pop of color to a whole wall. It brings out the life of the wall because of the colors used in this painting. I personally see it as beauty because the scenery reminds me of Colorado which I think is beautiful 

3.  Writing a self portrait 

The baggage I bring along with me when I look at art, are the memories that go with the art. I am a very visual person so when I look at something, I instantly start thinking and remembering memories from my childhood that relate to when I am looking at. I am 21 and am loving this age and stage of life. I am a woman and I am proud of it. I am Russian, grew up with Russian speaking parents and grandparents so that was the first language I learned. I am originally from Chicago, Illinois but moved to Florida a few years ago and have been living here ever since. I don’t have too much time to just have fun but I love to play pickleball with my friends. It has been so much fun to be active with my closest friends. As well as playing pickleball, I love to go to the beach and spend time out in the sun. I am very involved in my church playing piano every Sunday and going to bible studies throughout the week. It’s an honor learning about the bible with other fellow believers! I work as a nanny for a family I met when I first moved. I watch 4 little kids that I absolutely love! I am also a substitute teacher at a school that is part of my church. I enjoy that job as well. Something that makes me unique is that I am a very down to earth person and am down for anything anytime. My personality is different from everyone’s, I love to be outgoing but can also just be chill and relaxed when I want to. 

4.  Art project (Self Portrait) 

All of these pictures describe who I am as a person. The sum this all up, I will talk about the different photos in this collage! I am very musical, i enjoy playing the guitar which is pictured here as well and playing the piano. There are many photos here of me outside because i love the outdoor! At the bottom is a picture of my friend group and I catching a shark! This was a great experience that does not happen everyday. I love to be active and workout as well and go ice skating. I used to play hockey back in Illinois and I loved it. The bottom middle picture is me helping out with media at a church conference. I enjoy baking which explains the photo of the decorated christmas cookies! I would also say I love energy drink. The top middle photo is my brother and I drinking celsius; we really enjoy them! I also enjoy going to the shooting range when I have free time.

[the-thieves-gambit]

A small gasp came from her as her hazel eyes zoned in on the girl. "A boy next door?" With a smile, she couldn't help but ask. "Are they nice? Are they cute? Are they a friend of yours?" At the girls' words, she couldn't help the wide grin that came to her face as she leaned over as if she was sharing some secret of the universe with the girl. "Don't look for it. Its like a butterfly, when you just wait and mind your business, it lands on you. Finds you. That's the best kind of love in my opinion. And I know that you, Annie, are going to be found by a great love. I feel it in my bones."

The fact that she would have more bracelets to add to her arms soon made her idea for the displays of bracelets even more of a need and quickly became the top project for her to get started on. "I can't wait for the new one," it was a genuine respond she had come to love the accessories given to her by the little ones. "We can also make a pair ourselves! I've gotten better at making them and I figured out a new pattern with beads." It was new ways she learned to make them while also working on her side project, the hidden one she wanted to surprise Wally with at the right time. Which only made her believe that the girl was psychic with what she said next. It reminded her of the show that Orion said he was watching with the girl who was telepathic and playing matchmaker with her parents. "Is it not official now that you called me it?" She countered. "Like you said everything else is a formality. I'm not Charlie's sister but I'm still Orion's aunt. I'm not related to anyone in your family, but I can still be your aunt."

Baking was not something that she thought would help her bound with others when she first started it with Orion all that time ago. It became a universal language that she could share with everyone. Nodding at Annie, "You know it is, sobrinita." Then rolled her eyes at Wally as she continued to pet Antares that purred with her eyes closed and leaning against her contently. "Of course you are."

Tensing up the moment the sound came from Dolly, she carefully picked up Antares off her lap and nodded at Wally when he handed over his niece. Her legs no longer tucked under her but down and ready to run if needed, arms ready to wrap around the girl tightly as her mind began to process every exit, entry and which way would keep the girl the safest. Her heart pounded in her ears for a slight moment before she focused completely on their surroundings, waiting to see what was going to happen next and how to react.

"Oh," she sighed, letting herself relax and sink into the back of the couch, letting the adrenaline subside for a second before she smiled at the girl and tussled her hair for a moment. Just glad that it wasn't a serious situation. "It's your place, babe." She looked back at Wally. A look that said his niece was there, the curious one, the one that was already a lot like him and she didn't know if her hearing the details of the latest case would be something he'd want her to see or hear just yet. She also selfishly enjoyed watching him relax and be with his niece. A comforting sight to see him smile, not working or thinking about work. Biting her lip, she answered. "Can he just deliver it to my office? Mai can review it, she'll tell me if anything urgent is needed. We're having fun with Wheel of Fortune, we still have dinner to eat and a trip to plan." The moment that the words were out of her mouth she felt guilty.

"Yeah, but don't get any ideas on that foolish boy next door." Wally interjected which made Annie laugh heartily. He was always the more protective of the guys in the family. As it was with this family they always found their one very early on in life. Wally was the odd man out here when he found Liz later in life. He had good reason to be overprotective. "You'll always take the top spot. Promise." Annie shook her head and covered her mouth staring at Liz. "I hope I get a good one like you and my mamas and uncle's and rest of the family."

Wally couldn't help the small smirk watching her blush and slowly took his eyes off her. Like they've just drank her in for the first time. "Consider it done then." He replied, chewing his bottom lip. There was a moment when he was watching his niece that he felt like the air had began suffocating him. She was just way too smart and he felt that pretty soon she'd be ahead of everyone else. Liz speaking up made him look at her and felt his heart grow another size. She fit pretty perfectly in the role and let Annie's excited squeal feel their living room. "Yay! We're going to have so much fun. I can finally give you my matching bracelets! You have room." If her wrist was visible there was room. "I like that you call me sobrina. Maybe now someone can make it official. Though, no paper makes it official. That's just for—" she tried to find the word and put her finger up to not tell her. "Formality." She felt confident that was it and smiled going back to her paper.

Wally frowned softly wondering why she wasn't adding herself to the equation. "Something wrong with that sentence. I think you meant you and Annie would be an unbeatable team." He smiled as his face nuzzled into her hair. Having her leaning against him made him lean against her as a small yawn escaped him. The day had caught up to him but he wasn't going to head to bed just yet.

"Who's been this week's cookie monster?" He asked already knowing who it might have been. "I think you got to start hiding the good stuff in the lowest of cabinets." A funny thing since that would just make it harder for two people who were known to be cookie thieves.

He went back to trying to give Annie more kisses a let out a laugh yelp when she happened to squish his lap accidentally. He had to remember she was not as little as she once was. Annie turned her head and squeezed herself out of his grasp as she shook her head. "Commerical!" Then blue eyes looked over the Tupperwares and gasped when she saw the one with the lid. "Please tell me thats lemon?"

Wally scoffed as he shook his head before taking a bite. "Impossible. Bet you had this clue figured out before the first letter showed." There would never be a day where he didn't think her baking skills were incredible. "I'm totally blaming my inevitable sugar rush on you and your delicious cookies."

Dolly got up and started to bark as she got closer to the door. She heard something and was trained to bark low if there was a scent she didn't recognize. Wally shifted from relaxed mode to agent in less than a second. He lifted Annie up and sent a look to his girlfriend. That look gave it that she's safest with you should anything happen. Dolly stood down as he caressed her ear and told her what a good girl she was before he went over to look through the peephole and once he saw who it was he sighed against the door. "It's Bailey," he whispered mostly so Liz could hear. That was a name he knew would probably elicit an eye roll. "Probably has news on the case you had I asked for. Should I let him in?"

Annie being closer to Liz didn't show any signs of being afraid, in fact all she showed was confusion. "Who's that?" she asked not remembering a Bailey in any conversations before. "A case? Is it one of the ones you work on?" Excitement was not hidden in her voice at the prospect of having an inside look at how a case was solved.

[moyazaika]

im currently in love with all of your oc's and just.. wow i don't think i've been like this before because i literally just binge read your entire masterlist LMAO

you just write them, well, rich and as a dude stuck in customer service it's my dream to be swept away by some rich guy 💀💀

i was curious too if you had any fun facts about any of them! like what's their favorite color? favorite food? how many languages do they speak? are they willing to learn darlings native language? (my first language is korean so im sorry if they're any grammar/spelling mistakes, english is hard haha)

take care! thank you for sharing your ocs with everyone!!

WHHHH thank you sm dude this is always so nice to hear !!! also your english is amazing so pls dont apologise ^^

and i am unfortunately a sucker for rich men. i think im self projecting into deadass everything i write ☠️☠️

quick fun facts on dean, harper, and val bc i barely talk about them ???

dean, the slasher.

dean can only speak english, despite being half west asian. but he's absolutely willing to learn ur language!!

his fic is set in the late 20th century, so cus tech's still pretty new (??) he's the yan most likely to whisk u away to a secret cabin in the woods with seventeen cats where ur likely to never be found again

he's old money, so bro's never worked a day in his life. from one of those filthy rich dysfunctional families whose kids end up being psychopaths. also why he's a literal slasher cus he knows he's above the law LOL

harper, the delinquent.

man this guy is such a bitch boy. can speak french and english, already learnt your native language before you even had ur first conversation cus he's devoted fr

fav food is anything you like cus he's braindead and he's literally one of those annoying people who copy everything u do and make it their whole personality trait like he won't like something until u like it. even if u say you love something he hates he's suddenly switching up.

touched on his delinquent haps in the fic but to delve deeper, he's pretty well respected in his scene. the sappy, whiny side to him you see? that's only for your eyes. to everyone else, it's a wonder you're still alive after rejecting his thirty-six confessions but hey, who's counting???

valentine

speaks vietnamese, and english fluently. can understand chinese, but not able to read or write it. learns your language when the two of you 'break up' in hopes of impressing u with it and getting back together with the 76 voicemails he leaves in your language, (despite u having him blocked) claiming how much he loves u. bro has the best poetic rizz as a writer.

his fav food is anything that reminds him of home, but also has a massive sweet tooth. think chè chuối and caramen hoa quả. his favourite colour is pink, because that was the colour of the sky the first time he ever saw you, when the sun was setting.

started off pretty average, but after the movies he writes for his director brother topped the box office multiple times, he's now living really well in the city of merit, which is a fictional city that feroze and kenji also live in canonically :) think like chongqiing vibes

[the-eldritch-it-gay]

I looked up the language bc i saw your video and it just brings up ffxiv ixali everywhere

Ixaili is a language I created! I first started working on it 6 years ago and over those years I've worked on getting a working language done along with creating an entire fantasy world complete with cultures, religions, and maps! I've only recently started making videos with me speaking the language because I thought it would be fun and also more interesting for people than reading a bunch of words that are gibberish to them.

I would imagine not much comes up when you google it unfortunately since everything about the language is just tidbits I've posted on tumblr and the tiktok videos I've been doing recently :"D

If you do want to know more about the world/language/culture I love talking about it! My current tag with random bits of info is "untitled ixaili project" and includes stories I've been working on taking place in the world (I originally planned on making a novel but I am simply unorganized lol)

[writer-in-theory]

Please Have Snow and Mistletoe (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Prompt: Person A’s car breaks down on the side of the road. Person B pulls over and offers a seat in their warm car while they wait for a tow. They swear they aren’t a serial killer.

Summary: Reader's car breaks down when she tries to make it through a snowstorm to her family's Christmas Eve party but luckily, a kind stranger is more than willing to spend the holiday with her.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff, a tiny bit of angst in the beginning

Warnings: Mild Language, Food/Eating Talk, Mild Sexual Tension/Innuendos, Discussions of Christmas

Word Count: 6.8k

A/N: This is for @imagining-in-the-margins Winter Wonderland Writing Challenge! Thanks for putting this all together, this fic was really fun to write.

(i picture this as S5 Spencer, but it works with pretty much any season)

Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

It’s generally considered to be true that snow is a beautiful natural phenomenon. The unique crystalline nature of snowflakes makes it all the more appealing to those individuals attracted to the bizarre. Normally you would agree if it weren’t for the simple fact that it was making your drive considerably more difficult.

Now it was just past dinnertime and you were already an hour behind schedule. It made sense people would drive slower in the snow but still, you wished you could urge them forward. What’s a little bit of powder on the road going to do?

You got your answer soon enough when the snow flurries turned to a heavy snowstorm, completely blinding you in white streaks. No longer were the streets busy with cars as everyone made the safe choice to pull over for the night. That wasn’t an option for you though, not when your entire Christmas plans banked on making this trip in one piece tonight.

Everyone in your family had told you not to wait until Christmas Eve to make the trip. Prioritizing work over family was never a good solution, they reminded you, and yet it had seemed like a good idea at the time. Your job took up most of your time anymore, and today was no different. Despite it being Christmas Eve, they’d needed you in the office to complete a project before the deadline. It was fine, you’d reasoned because your parents’ house was only a handful of hours away. It would be late, but you could make it in on time for the clock to strike midnight on Christmas Day, you’d promised.

“Oh, fuck!” The exclamation slipped from you before you could process what was actually happening.

Your car was a good one if a little old. It had held up this long, however, and it was beginning to seem as though it was invincible. Fate was a fickle thing, however, as now you were rushing to pull over to the shoulder of the road, car puttering out to a complete stop against your will.

Turning the keys, your heart began to pick up in tempo as the engine refused to start. “No, no no,” you repeated as if someone was out there to hear you. “This isn’t happening, it’s not.”

Immediately your phone was out, dialing the nearest tow company.

This wasn’t real. It wasn’t happening, there was no way because reality wouldn’t be so cruel as to create a snowstorm bad enough to close even tow services.

“What do you mean you’re not towing tonight?” you gasped, hoping repeating it would make the man on the phone change his mind.

“This storm is too dangerous, Ma’am. We can’t have our drivers out in that,” he told you with a sigh, “we can get out there as soon as the snow stops and the streets are plowed.”

“Right, thank you,” you sighed, “Happy holidays.”

“You too, Miss. Have a safe night.”

Right, because nothing said a safe night like sitting in your dead car on the side of a practically deserted road. The storm was showing no signs of stopping any time soon, leaving you with the thought that you could be stuck out here for hours. Maybe all night, even.

So you sighed, trying to relax into your seat as much as possible.

After all, you would be there for a while.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Every survival movie shows the adrenaline-rushing, fear-inducing moments that result from life-or-death decisions. It’s easy to recall movies of men choosing their lives over limbs or sacrificial lambs saving the group, but no one ever makes a movie about how boring it can be. The stretches of time between important choices are often forgotten, the time when the victims are left with only their own minds to occupy themselves.

You were never going to look at that kind of movie the same way again. Sitting in your car amidst one of the worst snowstorms Virginia has seen in decades, all you can think about is how completely bored you are.

Of course, there are other fears beginning to edge into the back of your mind. The fact that the tow truck can’t even start heading to you until the storm is through, the fact that your car is dead leaving you with no way to heat yourself. Already your body was shivering from the chill, your hands turned a different shade and stiff from it. You’re thankful for the fact that you don’t actually know how long it would take for a person to freeze in these conditions, and you’re thankful that you hadn’t packed your winter coat into the luggage in your trunk but instead threw it into the backseat.

Still, these are fears that only grow with time. For now, a couple of hours in and only barely starting to shake in your seat, your mind is occupied by how thoroughly unoccupied it is.

True boredom isn’t often felt in today’s world. There are phones and friends, and work to keep everyone completely entertained. With more movies than anyone could ever dream of watching, more music than you ever thought possible to produce, humans have refused to allow boredom to win.

Without access to any of those lifelines, you found yourself with your feet on the dash finding ways to create your own fun. It was reminiscent of the early years, your parents having tossed you outside and told you to occupy yourself until the street lamps lit up for the night. It had begun with sitting in the driveway pouting, counting leaves as they fell from trees, and coming up with backstories for the cars that drove by. Eventually, a neighbor’s kid sat on the pavement and joined you in your story-making, and soon enough a whole group of kids was sitting outside your parents’ house creating fantastical stories for ordinary people who would never hear them.

A book you had read once suggested counting prime numbers to quickly cure boredom. It would stimulate the mind and could even keep you thinking about anything other than the dire situation you were stuck in. If you messed up, you were supposed to start over from the beginning for an added challenge.

“One, three, five, nine,” you counted, pausing at the last one. “Is nine a prime number?”

There was absolutely no one around to answer you. “No, I don’t think so. Okay, one, three, five, eleven, thirteen, fifteen- fuck!” you hissed, having gotten into the habit of counting odds rather than primes. It wasn’t even that you didn’t understand what primes were, but more so that your body was becoming so cold it was hard to focus on anything else. What was meant to be entertaining was rapidly turning into frustration.

“Okay, no primes,” you sighed, settling back into your time alone with your thoughts. You tapped against your leg, trying to figure out what tune was stuck in your head.

“I’ll be home for Christmas,” you sang lowly to yourself, the words echoing around the silent car.

When was the last time you had sung aloud? In college, it had been impossible because you’d had roommates. Sure they wouldn’t have minded, but the embarrassment kept you from ever vocalizing it. Now you lived in an apartment and the mere thought of your neighbors hearing your voice, whether it be good or bad, sent chills down your spine. Had it been when you were in elementary school, the last time you were free from the pressure of looking good for other people?

“You can plan on me,” you continued, louder and with more confidence. The snow was still falling, practically in sheets to cover up the dark winter night. “Please have snow and mistletoe, and presents on the tree.”

This would be the first Christmas you missed with your family. Every year, no matter what was going on in life, you made it back to celebrate with them. It was a time to look forward to when there were no responsibilities to worry about, if only for a day. You’d wake up early and still laugh like a child when it was time to open presents. You’d throw yourself into every Christmas tradition, wearing the best outfit you could put together. It was a day full of magic, the day when nothing mattered but you and those you were celebrating with. “I’ll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams.”

You’d gotten so caught up in your thoughts, it was easy to miss the car that pulled to a stop just behind you. You’d missed it until there was a knock on your icy window, the covering crackling like glass as you rolled it down. “Can I help you?” you asked the man, already wary of anyone trying to talk to you in the middle of the night. He was cute; long curly hair sticking out from a knit winter hat, hands tucked deep into his jacket pockets to protect against the harsh wind he was standing in. Snow was already collecting on him, wisps gathering in those curls and turning his nose pink in their chill. The man was someone you would marvel at, the kind you and your friend would urge each other to flirt with even though you knew neither of you would be so bold.

It was the middle of the night on the side of a road in the middle of nowhere, however. The likelihood of this man being dangerous to you was rising with every second that he still stood there, bent a little so he could peer into your car.

“I was going to ask you that,” the man chuckled, glancing over to focus instead on your car. “You looked like you could use some help.”

“I’m fine, thanks,” you immediately answered, practically hearing alarm bells screaming at you to be careful. In middle school, you’d been dragged forcibly to a presentation on how to stay safe around strangers. It had seemed useless at the time, but now you couldn’t help but dredge up anything you could remember from it. Never let them take you to a secondary location, don’t scream ‘help’ because people won’t listen and if all else fails, pee on them.

Somehow none of that seemed helpful here.

“You can’t sit here in this cold,” the man insisted, looking around at the billowing tufts of snow as if that proved his point, “you’ll get hypothermia.”

“I’ll be fine, a tow truck is on the way.” Make sure they knew someone was looking for you, that someone would expect you to be here.

“This is dangerous weather to be driving in, they won’t risk their employee’s safety,” the man pointed out, and how would he know that? “You can sit in my car until the storm is over, it has a working heater.”

“I hope you know how creepy you sound,” you couldn’t help but point out, “it sure seems like you’re gonna kidnap me or something.”

And that, well that just created the funniest expression on the man’s face. His amber eyes widened, eyebrows lifting and lips parting as if that were truly the most shocking statement anyone could say to him. “I’m an FBI agent,” he countered, “I wouldn’t kidnap you.”

“Sure sounds like something a kidnapper would say.”

“They wouldn’t claim to be an FBI agent, it’s too easy to disprove,” the man corrected. “If they were to pick a figure of authority, they’d be more likely to claim highway patrol. They’re common especially this time of year, and their badges are easier to create a forgery of.”

“Hm, sounds like you know how a criminal thinks pretty well,” you said, never once letting your gaze move away from this man. The way he stood by your car, nervously bouncing and shifting on his feet at this conversation, alerted you to the fact that he likely wasn’t a sadistic killer. Still, it never hurt to be sure or to have a little fun in the meantime. “To know ‘em you’ve gotta be ‘em, right? It’s not looking good for you, agent.”

“I hunt down serial killers, why would I be one?”

“Maybe you liked what you saw. Or maybe you’re not a killer yet, but you saw me out here and thought there wasn’t a more perfect victim.”

“I did think that.” The admission was shocking, an easy way to leave you completely speechless. Never once had you imagined that he’d actually admit to thinking what an easy pick you were. “Right now, you’re an extremely high-risk victim for anyone who wants to hurt people. I thought you’d be safer with me than alone.”

The man seemed sincere, eyes still hard as if to warn you against questioning him now, but his entire stance soft. So you shrugged, grabbing your purse and removing the keys from their slot in your car. “I guess making the 7 ‘o’clock news for freezing on the side of the road isn’t on my to-do list this weekend,” you resigned, stepping out of the car and giving the man a smile. “Thank you.”

He didn’t answer with anything more than a nod, guiding you back to his car that looked as equally as old as yours, if not more. Inside, it was absolutely spotless save a few items waiting in the backseat; a dish of some food covered in aluminum foil and a box wrapped in paper covered with little blue telephone booths.

You couldn’t help the groan of relief that slipped from you when he started the car back up, a blast of hot air hitting you in the chest. The warmth melted around you, providing a protective barrier from the chill your own car hadn’t been able to defend against. Your hands pressed up against one of the vents, allowing the heat to dethaw and unstick your joints.

Locked into position, you turned to the man and asked, “So, can I see it?”

What you weren’t expecting was for the man’s cheeks to flush a brilliant red, lips opening and closing as he searched for a way to answer you. He finally decided, “Isn’t it too early for that? I just met you.”

It was your own turn to flush hot with embarrassment, feeling the blood rushing to your face immediately at the implication. “Well, that’s never stopped me before,” you teased back, “but I meant your badge. You said you were FBI, right?”

“Oh, oh! I thought you meant—I thought you were trying to—I’m sorry I didn’t mean to sugge-” he stammered, thrown off of his rhythm as he fished the item out of his jacket. Your fingers brushed his as you reached for the thick badge, hearing him gasp at the touch. “You’re still cold,” the man observed, twisting in his seat to grab something from the back. You were focused on opening the folded badge in your hands, brushing still-stiff fingers over the words.

“So you’re a doctor too, huh? Pretty impressive, Spencer Reid,” you called out, eyes running over the slightly outdated picture on the ID. You wondered if he still wore those glasses, or if he’d permanently switched to the contacts he must’ve been wearing now. His hair was much longer now, curled down to his shoulders. “I guess you’ve gotta be impressive to be a supervisory special agent with the, uh...Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

“It’s actually not too difficult to become an SSA,” the man—Spencer, you reminded yourself—corrected just as he was righting himself in his seat. He was holding something out for you, the box with carefully peeled back paper on the top to reveal a colorful blanket laying inside. “Here, it’ll help you warm up.”

“Oh, I can’t use that, it’s your present for someone.” With the food and present in the back, it was clear Spencer was heading somewhere tonight. He had plans and instead he was here with you, making sure you were safe in this snow. It felt wrong to accept anything more from him, especially this brightly colored blanket clearly picked out for someone specific in mind.

“Trust me, she’d want you to have it,” Spencer reassured you. “She’ll be excited enough when she hears this story.” So with his insistence, you pulled the blanket from the box and wrapped it around you. Despite the bright splashes of color and shimmer of sparkles coating it, the blanket was perfect. It was just heavy enough to provide comfort without being stifling, and the material was warm without a scratchy texture.

“So how old’s your sister?” you asked after lapsing into a few minutes of silence.

“My who?” Spencer shot back, the same deer-in-the-headlights look returning to his face.

“Oh, I thought—I’m sorry, I assumed with the blanket and everything, you were going home to your family for Christmas,” you rushed out, trying to fix a situation you hoped hadn’t cracked too badly.

You were sure it had when Spencer’s face began to fall. His eyes shifted down to focus on the way his hands fiddled with themselves in his lap, the bits of hair escaping his hat falling forward into his face. It was a stupid thing to bring up, wasn’t it? Not everyone had a family they could celebrate the holiday with, sometimes they were left alone on days when everyone else got to be with their loved ones. It was obvious you’d hit a sore spot until Spencer’s head tilted back up to reveal an entirely different expression on his face.

It could only be described as peace, a fond look softening his honeyed eyes and a small smile threatening to pull his lips upwards. “I suppose I am, in a way,” he answered, turning his head to look at you and revealing his full smile at the thought. “My team at the BAU is having a holiday party tonight. I never really celebrated holidays until I joined the team.”

“Tell me about them?” Spencer gave you a sideways look, expression unsure. “C’mon, I’m not a serial killer or anything,” you teased.

“How do I know that? I’m pretty sure you don’t have an FBI badge to show off.”

“Hm, pinkie promise?”

For a cute joke, you weren’t expecting such a reaction. Spencer almost visibly cringed, eyes looking around at anything except your face. “Oh, I don’t—I don’t really...” he tried to explain, gesturing wildly in the air with his hands.

“No worries, I guess you’ll just have to take my word for it,” you reassured him, not wanting to push any boundaries he wasn’t ready to move. “So? I can tell you about my family first.”

“Is that where you were headed?”

“Yeah, my family lives a few hours away. I don’t see them much anymore because work keeps me so busy. It’s really only on the holidays anymore.” Sometimes it felt like you couldn’t feel too upset about it, knowing it had been your choice to prioritize work. What you did was so important to you though, that it could be hard to pull yourself away from it.

“It’s just my mom and me, but she lives out in Las Vegas,” Spencer explained in return. Though he seemed upset about it, the ghost of something much more serious routed deep in his eyes, there was still a sentimental smile on his lips. “I also don’t see her much because of work. I could be called to work at any time so I don’t make trips out there as often as I should.”

“I’m sure she understands.”

“Does your family?” he asked, his eyes full of the same regret you often felt when you thought of your family. You didn’t even need to answer; the two of you already knew.

The quiet that fell over you was peaceful. The only sounds were from the wind whistling through the air and the occasional crunch of snow settling on the ground. You should’ve been on your toes, careful while you sat in this stranger’s car with no way to call for help. Instead, all you felt was a calm that hadn’t been present in a long time. This man understood you in a way you hadn’t expected, and it was relieving.

“Hotch is our unit chief,” Spencer broke the silence, causing you to turn your head to face him. He was looking forward, a smile already pulling at his lips at the mention of his family. “He’s the leader so he has to be stern sometimes, but he’s one of the kindest people you’d ever meet. He’s protective of all of us, he’s the closest thing to a dad I have. Same as Rossi, he created our unit and he’s still here showing all of us how this works. He puts on a tough act but he’d do anything for each of us.”

“They sound amazing.” It was the honest truth. Though you loved your job and the people in it, you couldn’t exactly say you saw them as family. How lucky to love your coworkers so much you could call them a father figure, even brothers and sisters?

“They are,” Spencer admits, looking over at you for the first time since mentioning his family. You’re not sure if it’s the family talk or the snow, but his eyes are practically sparkling in the overhead light of the car. “Derek and Penelope are too. Derek has been through so much but he’s still funny and kind. He makes a lot of jokes and can be absolutely infuriating sometimes, but he’s always there for his friends. I can always count on him. Penelope, too, is always there. She’s like the sunshine, no matter what her presence is enough to make me smile. She’s the happiness, the light in what we do.”

“Is she the one this was for?” You asked, picking up the corner of the blanket still wrapped around your body.

“Yeah, she loves bright colors. She dresses like that too, every single day. I don’t know how she does it. She believes in the good of the world.”

“You say that like you don’t.” It wasn’t hard to see the good of the world during the holiday season. Christmas miracles and joy spread for each holiday celebrated, sometimes you wondered if this was the true human spirit defined.

“Sometimes I do. I try to, at least. It seems impossible sometimes when you see everything that we do,” Spencer explained honestly, shrugging his shoulders. “What about you? Do you think people are inherently good?”

“Well, after tonight I certainly do. A complete stranger became my knight in shining armor.”

“You know, shining armor in those days actually reflects the fact that the knight wouldn’t have done much in battle.”

“Take the compliment, Spencer,” you shot back, a playful smile on your face. The man was clearly brilliant, being able to recall interesting points about the most out-there topics. He hadn’t told you, but it didn’t take a genius to see how smart he was.

“Emily says the same thing sometimes, that I’m too humble,” Spencer continued telling you about his team, more comfortable now that he was already part-way through it. “She gets me in a way the others don’t. I think she sees similar flaws in us because she always knows how to handle me at my worst. Then there’s JJ, who sometimes feels like my opposite. She was the first friend I had in the BAU, I’m the godfather to her son. We’ve seen each other through just about everything.”

“Your team really does sound like the perfect family.”

“I couldn’t ask for anyone better.”

From everything you’d ever heard about government jobs, it surprised you that they all sounded so close. Most media typically depicted them as being power-hungry, all ready to step on each others’ toes to get to the top. Instead, this was SSA Dr. Spencer Reid finding the absolutely perfect rainbow blanket for his teammate’s Secret Santa gift. This was Spencer, practically beaming while talking about the team members he loved so dearly.

From the way he described them, absolutely none of them sounded like the typical FBI agents shown in media. Honestly, he didn’t either. You never would have guessed that this man was in law enforcement, maybe academia instead. “So why the FBI? You can do so much with a doctorate, how’d you pick this?” you asked curiously, wondering how he could have found this job. Spencer looked young, and you’d always thought of agents as being older, coming into the job after they’d already had successful careers.

“How’d you know it’s a doctorate? Most people assume I’m the other kind of doctor.”

“Well, the other kind of doctor would’ve known after that long in the cold, my system technically shouldn’t have been shocked with intense heat right away,” you laughed, waving off his concerned expression. It would be fine after just a couple of hours, and you should’ve known better as well. “I’m in social work, I end up working with a lot of hospital staff. You pick up a thing or two from hearing them talk.”

“What do you do in social work?” It was Spencer’s turn to look interested, his entire body turning to face you now. His head tilted to the side slightly,

“I mainly work with the children that are surrendered to hospitals and fire departments,” you explained. “That’s why it’s hard for me to step away from my work sometimes, it feels like I’d be letting one of them down.”

“I know how that feels. If you keep working, you can save one more.”

“Exactly.” Spencer understood you in a way you’d been desperate for. Your friends and family all loved you dearly but didn’t always understand the commitment you held to your work or the way you were ready to drop just about anything for the work. Spencer did, in the way he saved people nearly every day with his work in the FBI.

“That’s how I picked the FBI. I wanted to help people, but I couldn’t seem to find the right way to do it. Someone from the BAU came to guest speak at my university, and I knew then this is what I’m meant to do.”

It was easy talking to Spencer. You sat safely in his car, watching the way the snow flew furiously outside. Never once would you have guessed this was how you would spend your Christmas Eve, but you could think of much worse ways. Spencer was kind enough to stop for you, and he was so different from anyone else you’d ever met. You wanted more time to talk to him, to get to know more about him beyond how he felt about his family and the world.

“Thank you for waiting with me, by the way. You don’t have to miss out on your Christmas Eve plans just because I am,” you told him gently, body shifting to sit closer to his side of the car.

“I want to be here,” Spencer tried to reassure you, voice matching your soft intensity. His eyes never left your face, as if he were trying to study it to recreate it in a drawing later.

“You want to be spending your Christmas Eve stuck in your car in a snowstorm with a perfect stranger?”

“It sounds strange...but yes.”

It didn’t sound strange at all, because you were thinking the same thing. A night with Spencer sounded absolutely wondrous. Though you would miss the time with your family, it would all be worth it because you got to meet him.

“Well then,” you turned to the dash to watch the clock tick over to midnight, “Merry Christmas, Spencer Reid.”

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

The air was completely full, so much that you wondered if there was enough left for you to breathe in. Not wanting to risk it, you found yourself holding your breath in your chest. The two of you were leaning in, Spencer’s amber eyes focused intently on your lips. Your own gaze drifted down from his eyes to his button nose, and finally to those full lips still a deeper shade from the chill.

“Can I?” Spencer asked, close enough to practically whisper the words against your lips.

“Too bad we don’t have any mistletoe,” you joked nervously, hands shaking a little in your lap.

“I do, actually,” Spencer admitted, pulling the sprig from his coat pocket. “JJ asked me to bring it. I don’t know what she was planning to do with it.”

“I know what I’m planning to do with it,” you answered, your fingers lacing with his to cover the mistletoe between your palms. You closed the distance, and Spencer’s lips were hot against yours. He was stunned at first but leaned in, his free hand coming up to hold the side of your face.

It was beautiful and magical, the way the two of you fit together so perfectly. The moment wasn’t long but felt like a lifetime, and as the two of you parted all you could think was that his lips felt like home.

“What are you planning on doing with it?” Spencer asked innocently, cheeks tinged pink from reasons other than the cold.

You couldn’t help but let out a bright laugh, shaking your head and moving your hands to cup either side of his face. “I’ll just have to keep doing it until you figure it out, Doctor,” you teased back, leaning forward to press another kiss to his lips. Your arms moved, allowing your hands to tangle in his hair and tug just the slightest bit, enough to elicit a soft noise from Spencer.

And when the two of you pulled back, he was gazing at you as if you were the sun. It was an intense gaze and you fought not to shrink under it, never having thought someone could look at you with that much passion.

“Did you figure it out, Doc?” you asked, voice soft and shaking from your breathlessness.

“If I say no, will you kiss me again?” You laughed again, and this time Spencer joined in. The sound was beautiful, a joyous and weightless sound that run through the car. It settled deep in your chest and sprouted something warm and pure within it. You wanted to hear that sound again, as many times as you could. “This might sound bad, but I’m glad your car broke down.”

“Honestly, me too,” you admitted finally. You wanted the chance to talk to Spencer more, even if it meant being stuck in his car for the rest of the night.

So the two of you sat and talked. It was simpler than you could have ever expected; just two people who’d met that night sitting in a car and talking about their lives. You told him about your family’s Christmas traditions, and Spencer told you about all of the missed holiday meals the team had made together. In the same way you wanted to get to know Spencer, you ached to tell him all about you so he felt like he knew you too.

“There was one year my mom was convinced we’d celebrate Christmas right,” Spencer was telling you, each of you curled up on the edges of your seats so you could share the blanket. It was easy to picture the two of you curled up like this on a couch, sitting together in front of a movie neither of you was watching. You’d already know these basic things about each other, instead talking about how your days were and where you saw yourself in the next decade. “We had our tree up and we decorated it with anything we could find. We didn’t really have ornaments so we put silverware and bookmarks up instead.”

“Bookmarks? That’s so fun.” It was so different from what the typical celebration was that you found yourself smiling at the image of little Spencer collecting all of his favorite bookmarks from where their homes within the pages of stories.

“It really was. I still put a bookmark on the tree every year, for her,” Spencer admitted. “That Christmas Eve was also the first time she taught me how to cook a meal. We made homemade mac ‘n’ cheese together, and it was so simple but it’s still my favorite dish.”

“Is that what’s in the backseat?” you asked, feeling the light hunger cramps now that the topic of food was brought up. Dinner had become an afterthought while you rushed out of work to hit the road and now well past midnight, you were regretting that decision.

“It is. Are you hungry? We might as well eat some of it,” Spencer offered, already reaching around and grabbing the dish before you could answer. “I don’t have utensils though.”

“Oh, I do! Hold on,” you told him, practically leaping out of his car to sprint back to yours before he could protest. It took you a minute tops to dig through your dashboard, throwing junk into your passenger seat until you found the bag of plastic utensils you kept in your car, in case of emergencies.

“I came prepared for this exact moment,” you laughed, handing him a spoon.

“You keep plastic spoons in your car?”

“Of course I do,” you answered immediately, settling back into your seat as Spencer set the dish of macaroni in the space between you two.

The first bite made you question whether this was all a dream. There was no way mac ‘n’ cheese actually tasted like that; so creamy and rich. It was well beyond the Kraft you made regularly. “Oh, my God,” you groaned, tilting your head back a little as though to savor the taste.

“It’s really simple, I think I hyped it up too much.” Spencer’s head was tipped down, strands of hair falling down into it. Even from his profile though, you could see the tension in his face as if he were bracing for the impact of a complaint. “I can put it away.”

“Don’t you dare. This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my life,” you answered back, loving the way your words made Spencer’s whole face light up. The way he was so expressive was absolutely adorable.

“Really?”

“Spencer, this is absolutely sinful. The things I’d do to have this all the time.”

“And what would you do?” Spencer dared, the teasing smirk surprising you enough to stop your hand’s movement, keeping the edge of the spoon still rested upside-down on your lower lip. The tip of your tongue reached out, running over the edge of it as you considered his question.

“I don’t know, guess you’ll have to find out later,” you said right back, determined not to make this too easy on him, “because right now, I have mac ’n’ cheese to eat.”

“Is it really that good?” It wasn’t hard to fall in love with Spencer’s laugh. It sounded so free, a sharp start at the beginning as if he’d tried to hold it in but failed miserably.

“I have no words for how good this tastes right now,” you told him, “I’m just sorry your team doesn’t get to experience it.”

“I think you’re enjoying it more than they would’ve.” Though he was teasing you, Spencer’s own face lit up every time he took a bite of food. It was a comforting scene, the two of you curled up under the same blanket sharing a dish of warm American comfort food.

Sitting in a warm car, bundled up in a soft blanket with a full stomach, it was impossible not to grow tired. You yawned, trying to force your eyes to stay open but allowing your body to curl up against Spencer over the center console.

“You can go to sleep,” Spencer told you softly, immediately wrapping his arm around you the best he could. He wasn’t helping your efforts but rather lulling you closer to sleep as he made you feel more comfortable.

“No, no, I’m awake,” you slurred. Spencer was there to make sure you were safe and not alone on Christmas, how could you fall asleep on him? Still, you’d been up extremely early for work and hadn’t gotten to sleep yet that night.

“It’s been a long night, you should rest. I’ll wake you up in an hour,” Spencer promised.

“And you won’t kidnap me?” You asked, looking up and smiling at the amused expression on Spencer’s face.

“I thought we were past that.”

“That’s not a no.”

“No, Y/N, I won’t kidnap you.”

“Okay, just checking,” you laughed before letting out another yawn. It was easy to fall asleep against Spencer, and soon you were dreaming of future Christmases spent with this stranger who’d saved you.

When you woke up again, it was clear that it hadn’t just been an hour.

The snow had long since stopped falling, leaving a peaceful scene outside. The white flakes clung to everything, blanketing the world in white. The sun was just beginning to peek out above the skyline, turning the sky brilliant shades of pink and orange.

You were leaning against someone, a warmth that made you tuck in closer to their chest. The sharp dig of the shift stick in your abdomen reminded you of where you were, causing you to part from Spencer in favor of sitting up fully. “You let me sleep.”

“You looked so peaceful,” Spencer admitted softly, as though there was still a risk of waking you up.

“I drool in my sleep.”

“Only a little.” There was such a fondness in his expression, the kind that made you wonder if the two of you had known each other for longer than just the night.

“Well, thank you,” you said again, stretching as best you could from inside the car to shake off the residual sleepiness. There’d likely be some stiffness later that came with sleeping in a car, but it would be worth it. “I’m sure you were bored with me asleep.”

“The towing company called,” Spencer told you, “they’ll be here any minute.”

“Is it bad I don’t want them to come?” you asked, scared of the answer. This was when Spencer would leave, and you’d never see him again. It would be a night you tell stories about for months, constantly telling your friends about the guy who saved you and then disappeared, the one who got away.

Instead, Spencer surprised you once more.

“No, I don’t want this to be over either.”

He wanted to keep seeing you too. Lightness filled your chest, the kind that bubbled up and leaked out in a bright smile. No one would ever believe you when you told this story. How would the team take it when Spencer explained to them why he missed their party? You tried to picture each of their faces, the kind of teasing that his friends were sure to give him. You found yourself wanting to be there, wanting to meet the people he called his family.

Eventually, you would, but until then you settled for something much simpler.

“It doesn’t have to be. We could always get a Christmas breakfast together. My treat, for saving me and everything.”

“I’d love that.”

So the two of you waited for the tow truck together, knowing that when it finally came you still wouldn’t split. You’d find the one diner that was open on Christmas morning, and the two of you would laugh over pancakes and coffee. The two of you would be exhausted from a long night but still, you’d talk and laugh with so much energy because you’d found each other.

And when it was over and it was time to part, Spencer would press that sprig of mistletoe into your palm and you would smile like a giddy child the whole drive home.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

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