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nerdzzone · 3 years

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Luckless Romance

Summary: When Whitney Taylor was lucky enough to get the job of a lifetime doing a photoshoot for Marvel Studios, she didn’t expect to come away from the experience with a new friend. Especially not a friend that she quickly fell head over heels for.

Convinced that those feelings were completely one sided, she kept them to herself - until one night changed everything.

Chris Evans x OFC

18+

Prequel to: Once Bitten - Twice Shy + -More Hearts Than Mine-

Note: While this is set before the other two parts of this story, I would definitely recommend reading the other two first if you haven’t already. I know that might seem odd, but I do think it flows better that way. This is more of an aside than an introduction, I think, but it could just be that I wrote them in this order so that’s how it makes sense to me.

Anyway! Thank you to everyone who has been eagerly awaiting this part of their story. The support has been so motivating and I’m already working on more little snippets of their lives together that should hopefully be posted soon.

Please let me know what you think!

_____

August 2015

Growing up in Los Angeles - especially with a rather well known uncle - I was very aware that celebrities were really just normal people who usually weren't deserving of the obsessive adoration they received from the general public.

That being said, it still felt very surreal when I found myself sitting around a table with some of Hollywood's biggest stars as we celebrated the end of a long and tiring photo shoot in which I was the photographer. Three weeks earlier, I had been slaving away at a department store portrait studio taking boring, uninspired family photos, so the contrast between that and where I was now - sharing drinks with the cast of Marvel's next big movie after wrapping my first real photography gig - would be enough to make anyone feel a tad awestruck.

It didn't help that it had all come together so quickly that I'd hardly had time to wrap my head around it. The photographer that they originally had lined up to do the shoot had some kind of family emergency and had to drop out at the last minute. They were going to postpone the shoot indefinitely, but my family connections with Iron Man provided another solution. My uncle Rob wasted no time in giving Marvel my name and portfolio and less than twenty-four hours later I was signing a contract for the biggest career opportunity I'd ever had.

I was endlessly grateful - the pay was far better than I was getting at the department store and there was plenty of potential for more Marvel related photo shoots in the future - but the pressure was nerve wracking. I'd hardly slept at all in the few days leading up to it and by the time we wrapped, I was exhausted. As the adrenaline faded and the relief that I survived kicked in, I was very much looking forward to crawling into my bed with a nice glass of wine to get a good night's sleep before I started the editing process the next day.

But there was no time for rest with this crowd and it was quickly decided that we were all going out for some kind of unofficial wrap party. The official one had been two weeks before when they'd finished filming in Georgia, but now that they were reunited in L.A., it seemed another celebration was necessary. I'd protested at first and tried to sneak off before they could realize I was gone, but my uncle thwarted my plan and, after a few minutes of heavy guilting about how long it had been since I'd spent any time with him, I reluctantly agreed.

Which was how I found myself sitting at a table in a private room of a popular bar with my uncle - Robert Downey Jr - my Aunt Susan, Chris Evans, Anthony Mackie, Sebastian Stan, Scarlett Johannsen and Paul Rudd. There were other cast members and their friends dotted around the room, some sitting by the bar while others played pool, and I couldn't help but take a moment to be grateful that I'd been given a chance to join this team of incredibly talented people in some small way.

I was also taking a moment to be grateful that my placement in the booth we were sitting in gave me the opportunity to be sandwiched between the wall and Chris Evans - who smelt so good that it should probably be illegal.

There'd been a spark between us all day. He was attractive - I'd known that going in, it was a pretty beautiful cast - but seeing him in person with all his Captain America muscles was really quite a sight.

But it was more than just that.

There was something about the way he looked at me, flashing me those blush inducing smirks along side his teasing comments and the way he was so genuinely kind and polite to me throughout the whole day. I was sure that my uncle had warned them that this was my first high profile shoot, but Chris had been incredibly supportive and he never came across as condescending if he offered me any suggestions. He checked in with me throughout the day to make sure that I wasn't getting too overwhelmed and it was very much appreciated despite the fact that his effortless flirting often left me more distracted than productive.

Sitting next to him now, feeling his thigh pressed against mine due to the tight squeeze needed to fit our whole group around the table, had me very distracted again until my uncle dragged me back into the conversation.

"So, Whitney, how's Trent?"

His question, or more likely the displeasure in his voice when he asked it, captured the attention of the table and all eyes were on me as I shrugged.

"He's great as far as I know, but I haven't talked to him in a while," I admitted. "We broke up a couple of months ago."

"Thank god for that," Robert grinned. "It's about time!"

"Don't be insensitive," Susan scolded him, which probably would have been deserved if I didn't know how accurate of a statement it was. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"I think she means 'what horrible thing did he do that finally made you come to your senses'?"

Susan swatted at her husband, but I cringed at the memory.

"It was really bad. I don't even want to tell you."

His jaw tightened at that remark as his glee shifted to something more like concern.

"What did he do? Do I need to assemble my team of Avengers and kick his ass?"

I giggled at the thought of that happening as all the men around the table voiced their willingness to help.

"Thank you, but no, I'd rather you didn't," I assured them. "It wasn't anything horrific, it's just embarrassing that I ever went out with someone as sleezy as he was."

Chris glanced down at me with a smirk on his face.

"Well, in that case, you gotta tell us now..."

The rest of the group nodded in agreement and I, rather foolishly, looked at my uncle for support, but all I received was a shrug and a raise of his eyebrow as if to say 'go on'. So, against my better judgment and with a sigh of shame and regret, I explained.

"He took me out for drinks on my birthday and invited some woman that he met on Tinder to join us," I informed them. "Apparently, without my knowledge, he'd advertised that we were looking for someone to join us for a threesome that night which was his birthday gift to me."

There was a collective widening of eyes and, after approximately two seconds of stunned silence, a howl of laughter came from my uncle. The rest of the group, however, seemed unsure what to say until Paul spoke up.

"Well, was that was you asked for?"

"No!" I shrieked in protest. "I mean, to each their own, but no! Absolutely not!"

My uncle looked like he was about to cry from laughter as the rest of the group joined in with him. All except for Chris, who was biting back a smile with what seemed to be a considerable amount of effort.

"Guys, c'mon, don't laugh at that!" He scolded them. "That's horrible!"

"Oh, don't feel too bad for her," Robert warned him, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "The guy took her to Hooters on their first date and she still agreed to see him again."

It was true and looking back, I had no way to justify such a poor choice. I felt my cheeks heat up as I took a long sip from the gin and tonic in front of me.

"Shut up," I huffed. "He said he just liked the wings there..."

"That's classic," Sebastian smirked. "That's what they all say!"

"Why did you even agree to go out with a man named Trent?" Anthony chimed in. "There's no way someone named Trent isn't going to be a douche bag."

Chris laughed then, throwing his head back as his hand came up to rest on his chest.

"That's true!" He howled and, as embarrassed as I was by the situation, I couldn't help but feel a different kind of flush at the sound of his heartfelt laugh.

"Okay, okay, that's enough," Susan chimed in despite the smile on her face as well. "It sounds like poor Whitney has learned her lesson so there's no need to make her feel any worse."

Robert shrugged and gave me a pointed look.

"As long as she promises to make better choices."

I appreciated that he had my best interest at heart, but I rolled my eyes anyway in a show of annoyance.

"Don't worry," I assured him. "I'm swearing off men for a while so there will be no choices made at all, good or bad, for the foreseeable future."

Susan frowned at that information, clearly displeased by my resignation to being alone, but luckily, a distraction arrived at our table and forced a change of subject - a distraction in the form of Jeremy Renner with a very full tray of shots.

Everyone cheered at the sight of him, but my uncle nudged me under the table to draw my attention back towards him.

"This is why I call him the Lord of the Underworld," he warned me. "Be careful..."

"Don't listen to him!" Jeremy insisted, handing out two shots to everyone except my aunt and uncle who weren't drinking. "I just know how to encourage everyone to have a good time."

"Does this group need any encouragement?"

Scarlett's question earned a laugh from the crowd, but Jeremy nodded his head.

"Apparently so or you wouldn't all be sitting in a corner, nursing your first drinks!" He pointed out. "So, drink up!"

He lifted a shot glass in the air and we all copied the action, giving a 'cheers' before tossing back the sharp tequila he'd chosen. The second shot went down almost immediately after and as I felt it burning down my throat, I knew we were in for quite a night.

"So, how are we going to do this?" Chris asked as we stood around a ping pong table with Anthony and Scarlett a bit later in the evening. "Girls against boys?"

"No way, man," Anthony shook his head, putting his arm around Scarlett's shoulders. "I want this one on my team."

"Ouch," Chris smirked. "But whatever, I was just trying to make it fair. If you want to play against the two best players then that's your choice."

"You literally met her today," Scarlett reminded him with a laugh. "How would you know what her ping pong skills are like?"

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but my uncle beat me to it as he chimed in from where he sat at a nearby table.

"She's terrible at almost every sport, but what she lacks in skill, she makes up for with competitive spirit."

"Terrible is harsh!"

My protest did nothing to reassure Chris though as he shook his head.

"Good thing I have enough skill for the both of us then."

"I have skills!" I insisted. "Let's stop messing around and I'll prove it."

Anthony joined in the laughter at my expense as he bounced the ball on the table.

"Alright, do we all know the rules?" He asked. "The ball has to bounce once on your side of the table before you can hit it back."

"First to ten?" Chris suggested. "We'll let you guys go first."

We all agreed and Anthony bounced the ball again as he prepared to serve. He started off slow and gentle, lobbing it over slowly enough that I returned it with no trouble. However, when Scarlett hit it back, Chris made it clear he was here to play as he hit it with enough force that Scarlett had to leap out of the way to avoid being hit.

"Yes!" I cheered, reaching over to high five Chris. "Nice one!"

"Okay, I see how it is," Anthony shook his head as he tossed the ball back to us for our serve. "No holding back now."

Chris smirked as he easily caught the ball. He didn't waste any time before throwing it back with a hard serve, but this time they were ready for it and Anthony hit it back easily. He aimed it at me, which I could only assume was deliberate due to my uncle's doubts of my abilities, but I managed to send it straight back. His surprise at my success was clear as he was unprepared for it to be heading back in his direction and we scored another point.

"Beginners luck!"

Robert's interjection from the sidelines earned him a rude gesture from me, but I knew he was probably right - unless the last couple of drinks had somehow sharpened my reflexes and I seriously doubted that as I was already well on my way past tipsy.

However, the next few rounds showed that my uncle had been wrong and I, apparently, had quite a knack for table tennis. Chris and I worked together like a dream and were absolutely decimating Scarlett and Anthony. The game was almost over as fast as it started, but when we only needed one more point Chris suddenly appeared to give up. He missed shot after shot and we were quickly losing our lead which was making me lose my temper.

"Dammit, Chris," I huffed, trying to suppress my annoyance as he missed a very easy ball. "Get it together over there!"

"Me?!" He gawked. "I thought you were going to get that one!"

"It was clearly on your side!"

"If that's what you think," he started as he picked up the ball and came back to the table. "Then you need to get your eyes tested, sweetheart."

"Don't 'sweetheart' me," I shot back. "Start paying more attention before you make us lose."

"Whatever you say," he smirked at me before adding: "Sweetheart."

I shot him a glare and - without thinking - I swatted his very hard to ignore, perfectly sculpted bum with my paddle. He yelped, catching the ball that he'd just thrown into the air with the intention of serving and stared at me wide-eyed. I was almost as surprised by the action as he was and I opened my mouth to apologize, but I was interrupted before I could.

"Careful there, Whitney," Sebastian warned from where he sat with my uncle at the spectator's table. "That's Marvel property!"

"They're very protective of it too," Anthony joked. "It's one of their best assets."

"Yeah, so show it some respect," Chris demanded, looking cocky despite the slight red tint to his cheeks. "And anyway, if you're trying to get me to focus then I don't think making me think about spanking is a great strategy."

"Ooh," I giggled. "Someone get me the number for TMZ! I've got tomorrow's headline ready for them: 'Chris Evans likes to be spanked'!"

Chris barked out a laugh, shaking his head as he gently served the ball.

"Who said I like to be the one receiving?"

My mouth went dry when I realized what he was implying and several uncalled fantasies flashed through my brain. With that short little sentence, images filled my mind of him using his large hands for something entirely different to what they were currently doing - something that perhaps involved bending me over his lap. I felt a wave of heat wash over me at that thought as my gaze was drawn to him while I wondered if he was aware of the effect that he had on me. I was so pathetically distracted that I didn't even see the ball coming back towards us until it hit me on the side of my head.

Despite my embarrassing blunder, Chris and I managed to get ourselves together quickly enough to still win the game and our victory was promptly celebrated by another round of drinks.

My aunt and uncle left not long after that as they were eager to get home to their young children, but my uncle couldn't go without a few parting words when I hugged them goodbye.

"Chris is a good man," he informed me. "I'm not sure what his stance is on threesomes, but he wouldn't take you to Hooters on a first date, that's for sure."

I could tell what he was implying, but I questioned him anyway. The only answer I could pull out of him was a teasing wink and Susan ushered him out the door with a roll of her eyes and firm instructions for me to call them soon.

I tried to push his comment from my mind because the thought of a man as handsome, funny and intelligent as Chris Evans even considering the idea of taking me on a date seemed like insanity, but I would have been lying if I said it didn't instill a tiny flicker of hope in me. I was fairly certain that he had been flirting with me so maybe it wasn't entirely as far-fetched as my low self-esteem would have me believe.

I tried not to dwell on his words too much through the rest of the evening, but it was hard to shake the idea from my mind. Especially with how tactile he was with me. Whether it was when we moved on to dancing and he pulled me close, whenever we were walking to the bar and kept his arm draped around my waist or when we eventually settled on a pair of bar stools, sitting close enough that my knees were tucked between his.

That was how we were sat, tucked together at the bar, when I finished another drink and realized that the fuzziness in my head and the weight of my eyelids were telling me that it was time to head home. I wasn't eager for the night to end, I wanted to stay in this little flirtatious bubble as long as possible, but I could feel the alcohol induced fatigue hitting me and I knew I needed to leave before I no longer had the energy.

"How are you getting home?" Chris asked when I announced my departure. "Do you want some company while you wait for a cab?"

"Oh, that's okay," I assured him as I slid off the bar stool I'd been sitting on. "I'm just gonna walk."

"Walk?" He raised an eyebrow. "Where do you live?"

"Only about twenty minutes away," I shrugged. "It's no big deal."

I was being purposely vague, but Chris' questions persisted until I finally confessed what neighbourhood I lived in. Once I did, a worried look clouded his face.

"Really? That's not a great area..."

"It's not that bad!" I insisted. "I mean, I'll definitely move once the photography thing picks up and I would appreciate if you don't tell my uncle, but it's not that bad."

"He doesn't know?" Chris raised an eyebrow, giving me a look that could only be interpreted as one of judgment. I nodded in answer to his question and he sighed, tossing back the last of the beer in front of him before standing up as well. "Just let me say goodbye and I'll walk with you."

"No, no, you don't have to do that! Stay with your friends."

"My Ma would kill me if she found out I let a woman walk home alone and I'm guessing Robert would have something to say about it too from what you just said," he insisted, flashing me one of his dazzling smiles. "Besides, I was gonna head out soon anyway."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded in response.

"Absolutely."

I felt bad that he was leaving because of me, but I had a feeling that any arguments would be futile. I followed him around the room, saying goodbye to the few people who were still at the bar before we headed outside. As soon as the fresh air hit me, I really felt the full affects of the several drinks I'd had throughout the night and I was quite grateful for Chris' company on my walk.

"Thanks for doing this. I'm sorry you had to leave early."

Chris had pulled his baseball hat lower on his head, probably in an attempt to hide his identity a bit more, but the people bustling in the streets were too oblivious or drunk to pay much attention.

"Don't worry about it," he smiled down at me. "It was time for me to go anyway. I've had enough wild nights with Renner to know that nothing good happens after midnight."

"Oh, I see how it is," I smirked. "I thought this was a chivalrous gesture, but it's just an act of self-preservation."

Chris laughed, a deep laugh that made my smirk slide into a grin, as he held out his arm for me to take which I happily did.

"Can't it be both?"

"I suppose. I guess you must be pretty chivalrous to take on a role like Captain America." As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt my cheeks heat up. "Sorry, that was dumb. I sound like some shitty interviewer. Like, 'tell me what aspects of the character you see in yourself'."

I'd put on a bad, faux news anchor voice for the last part of that sentence and I felt Chris' arm shake as he chuckled, but he shook his head.

"Nah, it's fine. It's a fair question," he assured me. "I think I've always been pretty chivalrous. I'm close with my mom and two sisters so they made sure I knew how to treat a lady. But that is one bonus of playing a character like Cap, he has such strong morals and such a steady sense of right and wrong, it inspires me to be as much like him as I can be."

Just as he finished his thought, I stumbled over an uneven part of the sidewalk and was only saved from face planting by his grip on my arm. I flushed with embarrassment again, but the alcohol in my system had me dissolving into giggles.

"Sorry, thank you. Wow, I'd say you really do have some Captain America traits." I flashed him a smile. "Was it like a lifelong dream for you? If you don't mind me asking, last question about it, I promise."

"You can ask all the questions you want," he shrugged and it seemed genuine, not just an expected assurance. "But no, it wasn't. I actually turned it down several times."

"Really? You did? Isn't a role like that every actor's dream?"

"Probably," he nodded. "But I did the Marvel thing with Fantastic Four and even that little taste of fame was almost too much for me. Don't get me wrong, I love what I do and I'm so grateful for all the opportunities I've been given, but it can be a lot to deal with."

"Those obsessive fangirls too much for you?"

"Sometimes," he admitted. " I was already having panic attacks, so I wasn't sure that I could handle taking that next step. But it's more just the total lack of privacy that comes with fame. Not just for me either, I knew it would affect my whole family."

"That makes sense," I nodded, knowing from my own experience that he was absolutely right. There'd been a few unfortunate incidents on slow news days where articles about 'Robert Downey Jr.'s niece' had popped up after some of my poorer choices in life. "Are you glad that you went for it now?"

"Absolutely! It was the best thing I've ever done. There are times when I still struggle, I don't do well at the premieres with all the pressure and the people, but the whole cast is like a family so the support is amazing."

"It's really sweet how close you guys all seem to be."

"It makes a big difference," Chris agreed as we turned off the main street in the direction of my neighbourhood. "But what about you? Have you always wanted to be a photographer?"

I paused for a moment as I tried to get my rather tipsy brain to figure out the simplest response to his question.

"Yes and no," I finally answered. "I've always loved photography, but I never really considered it as a career until about two years ago. I actually went to university to study accounting."

"Accounting? Wow, so you're a math wiz?"

"Hardly," I giggled. "It was what my dad wanted me to do to guarantee myself a solid career, but I hated it. I flunked out within a year. I'm not entirely sure that my dad has ever forgiven me for it, he was really disappointed in me."

"But surely he just wants you to be happy, whatever job you have..."

"You would think so," I shrugged. "Doesn't feel like it all the time though. He's very against the whole starving artist thing. He's not a bad person, but he's very practical and just can't understand how suffocating an office job would be for someone who likes to be creative. I get the impression that just being around me these days exasperates him."

I felt another blush cover my cheeks as I realized I was over-sharing. It could easily be blamed on the alcohol, but Chris was a good listener and I found him very easy to talk to.

"Sorry," I mumbled. "That was more information than you probably needed."

"You don't need to apologize so much," Chris assured me. "I wouldn't have asked the question if I didn't want to hear the answer."

"Sor-" I paused. "Bad habit, I guess."

Chris squeezed my arm and shot me a reassuring smile before getting our conversation back on track.

"So, what made you persevere with photography in the end?"

"I just really enjoy doing it. I love capturing those unexpected moments, like the awkward laughter in between poses, the moments when people have their guard down and don't realize how beautiful they look. Then, when I get to share the photos I've taken with people and they see themselves in a different way, the joy it brings them makes it worth any financial struggles." As I finished my explanation, a thought struck me. "I actually got some good ones today, just on my phone when you guys first came in, not doing the planned and posed stuff."

They'd all been so excited to see each other even though it was just a few short weeks since they'd wrapped the film. It was sweet and I hadn't been able to resist capturing their reunion.

"Really? Could I see them?"

"If you give me your phone number, I can send them to you," I smiled up at him. "That would actually be helpful. They're obviously different than the ones I took for the actual shoot, but you can tell me if they're any good or if you think I just got the job because of my connections."

I reached into my bag and handed my phone to Chris so he could type in his number which he did before shooting me a skeptical glance.

"Do you really think your connection to Robert is the only reason you got the job?"

"Well, it was all so last minute. I can't help, but assume it's a mix of desperation and some pulled strings," I admitted. "But I know this is my one shot. Robert really believes in people making their own way in life so if I totally blow this opportunity, I know he won't fight for them to have me back again and I wouldn't want him to."

We turned another corner, taking us just a few blocks from my apartment building as Chris answered.

"I'm sure he wouldn't have gotten you the job if there was any chance that he thought you would fail," Chris assured me. "But he is a good person to have in your corner. I probably wouldn't have taken the Captain America gig at all if it wasn't for him convincing me I could do it. He can be very persuasive."

I smiled at that information. I knew my uncle didn't like to take no for an answer so I could imagine how that conversation went.

"He can be very encouraging when he needs to be," I agreed. "Even if that encouragement sometimes comes out in the form of publicly shaming someone for their taste in men."

Chris let out another deep laugh and shook his head.

"C'mon, you gotta admit you deserved that."

"I did not!"

"He took you to Hooters and you didn't run away as fast as possible," Chris reminded me as if I could have forgotten such an embarrassing decision. "If that's not deserving of some public shaming then I don't know what is."

"Dating is hard these days," I huffed. "Maybe it would be easier if I had giant muscles like you, but it's hard to meet people."

"I think having muscles the size of mine would actually make you less hot."

I couldn't bite back the giggle that slipped from my lips as I looked up at him with a questioning raise of my eyebrows.

"Less hot?" I asked. "That would imply that you think I'm hot now."

"I do," Chris smirked confidently. "I think you're fuckin' gorgeous."

His words instantly made my cheeks heat up again. I'd baited him into the compliment, but I didn't expect his blunt and honest answer. I was stunned into a momentary silence that only made Chris' smirk grow wider until I giggled once again.

"You're just drunk."

"I am not," Chris chuckled. "Well, maybe a little, but that doesn't change the facts."

There was a grin on my face and I felt like a little schoolgirl with a crush. Chris Evans just called me gorgeous. Any woman who said they didn't swoon in that situation was probably lying.

"That's very sweet of you to say," I told him, trying to play it cool. "You're pretty easy on the eyes yourself."

Chris squeezed my arm again as he flashed me a smile.

My apartment building was in sight now, just half a block away, and I was disappointed that our evening was about to end.

I was comfortable with Chris. He was nice and easy to talk to and I'd had more fun and laughs with him in the last few hours than I'd had throughout most of my last relationship. But despite our harmless flirting, I knew he was too good for me. I knew that I didn't stand a chance with him and that when the alcohol wore off and the sun came up, he would see that. As much as I wasn't ready to say goodbye, I could hardly keep us walking in circles around the block without him noticing so I reluctantly slowed to a stop outside my building.

"This is me..."

Chris looked up and nodded slowly.

"It doesn't look so bad."

"Because it's not!" I insisted. "Honestly, this isn't that bad of a neighbourhood."

"Well, it's not that great either, Whitney."

Another giggle slipped from my lips as I pulled my keys out of my purse, reluctantly slipping my arm from his.

"Your accent makes my name sound funny," I teased. "You don't say Whitney, you say Win-ney."

Chris laughed, but shook his head.

"Now who's drunk."

"Oh, definitely me," I admitted. "But that doesn't mean I'm wrong."

"Okay, Winnie, whatever you say."

He said my name wrong on purpose that time, but there was something about it that put a smile on my face. Emboldened by the alcohol and by his flirtatious nature, I decided to take a chance.

"Do you want to come up for a bit?" I asked. "One last drink maybe?"

Chris hesitated, but after a moment of thought, he shook his head.

"Nah, I should probably get home. I think I've had enough drinks for tonight." His solid reasoning eased the blow of rejection slightly, but it still burned me up inside. "Thanks for the invite though, maybe I'll take you up on that offer another time."

"Sure," I nodded, hoping I was masking my disappointment. "That would be nice."

"Great," he grinned before pulling me into a hug. "It was nice to meet you, Winnie. I have a feeling that we're going to be good friends."

Friends.

Good friends.

His words echoed in my head as I agreed and slipped out of his grasp. We said our goodbyes, I thanked him for escorting me home and I watched as he walked back down the street before I went inside.

Friends. F-R-I-E-N-D-S.

At least he'd made himself clear and subtly let me down easy before I had chance to form any wrong ideas about what our relationship was or could be. It hurt and I would be lying if I said it didn't feel a bit like a stab in the heart, but I was glad that he'd put me in my place before I made a fool of myself by making a move.

I knew I'd been getting ahead of myself anyway. I knew he was way out of my league, but he'd called me gorgeous and walked me home. He'd even given me a nickname. Maybe I'm just easy to impress, but it felt like he was interested. I guess being a big star in Hollywood requires a certain level of charm though and he was probably just used to being naturally flirtatious with most of the women he encounters.

I sighed as I let myself into my apartment and tossed my bag on the table by the door. I'd felt like the luckiest girl in the world only moments earlier and now I was back to feeling like I was a romantic lost cause. I dragged myself through the motions of getting ready for bed and flopped down on top of the blankets - it was too hot to be under them and I didn't have the luxury of air conditioning.

Perhaps it was for the best that Chris declined my invitation to come upstairs, I thought to myself. This apartment was hardly up to Hollywood standards, it was hardly up to my own standards even if it was all that I could afford.

As my head laid on the pillow and my heart sat heavy in my chest, I told myself that it was fine. If Chris wanted to just be friends then I would be grateful that he even wanted that. I made a mental note to send him those pictures in the morning - because I'd promised to and not because I was curious to see what kind of response I would get when he was sober - and fell into a restless sleep filled with dreams of my new friend.

---

July 2016

And so, we were friends. Good friends, maybe even great friends.

I sent Chris the photos he’d asked for the day after we met and we spent most of that day messaging back and forth. Our friendship only grew from there and, whenever he was in town, we spent as much time together as we possibly could.

But we kept things very much friendly.

There was some flirtatious exchanges, but I respected his wishes and kept the feelings that I'd developed to myself.

My career really took off in the year after we met as well. That first Marvel photo shoot had gone incredibly well which led to several more contracts with them as well as other high profile jobs. It was a long, busy year, but I was grateful and relished in my success.

I'd even managed to move into a new apartment in a much nicer neighbourhood which felt like quite a big achievement and had finally silenced Chris' fretting about my safety. I moved in May, but our busy schedules kept him from seeing my upgraded home for himself until that summer, almost a year after we met. He was returning to L.A. from a trip home to Massachusetts and we hadn't seen each other in months so I was very eager for our reunion. Despite the fact that were still in constant communication, I'd missed him terribly and had been counting down the minutes until he would be arriving at my place.

"So," My friend's voiced echoed through my phone from where it sat on the bathroom counter while I finished curling my hair into beachy waves. "Are you going to finally make a move tonight?"

"No," I scoffed. "Of course not, Hannah. I've not seen him in a while now, I want us to have a good time. I don't want to make him uncomfortable and ruin everything."

"I will bet you a thousand dollars that it wouldn't ruin everything," she insisted. "Honestly, I will give you a thousand dollars if you make a move tonight and it goes badly."

I rolled my eyes as I finished the last curly wave and reached for my hairspray.

"You can't put a price on my friendship with Chris."

"Oh my god," she groaned. "He's told you that he thinks you're gorgeous, he makes time to hang out with you whenever he can and he texts you every single day. He treats you better than any boyfriend you've ever had. How can you think he doesn't have feelings for you?"

I took a moment to spray my hair and give myself one last look over before taking her off speaker and answering the question as I walked towards my kitchen.

"Because he straight up told me that he wants to be friends," I reminded her. "And he's never given me any other signs that he's interested in anything more."

"He doesn't need to give you any signs. When someone looks at you the way that he looks at you that says enough."

"Well, I'm going to need him to say a little more."

Another groan came through the phone as the buzzer to my apartment rang.

"You're impossible."

"I know, I know, and my lack of self-esteem will make me die alone," I said, repeating the words she'd told me a hundred times. "But he's here now, so you're going to have to save your criticisms for another time."

"Just tell him how you feel," she huffed. "I expect a full report in the morning."

The buzzer rang again as I agreed and said my goodbyes to my friend. I took a deep breath and a moment to push Hannah's words from my mind before pressing the button on the intercom.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Win, it's me! Let me up."

I pressed the button to unlock the door and felt my lips slide into a cheek aching grin just from the sound of his voice. It had been too long since we'd had a chance to hang out and I was very much looking forward to a nice evening together.

It took him barely a minute to get up to my apartment, knocking twice before letting himself in.

"Hey!" I grinned, rushing towards him as he held his arms open. I threw mine around him as soon as I was close enough and squeezed him tightly. "I missed you!"

"I missed you too," he smiled. "Nice place you got here, someone's doing well for themselves."

"Oh, please," I giggled, slipping out of his arms. "I've seen your house, Mr. Evans. This is a dump compared to where you live."

"Nah, this place is great!"

"It's definitely an improvement," I admitted as I led him towards the kitchen. "Would you like a drink? I bought that beer you like."

"You didn't have to do that. I would have been fine with whatever you have in," he chided me, but I waved him off and assured him it was fine. "What's the plan for tonight anyway?"

I shrugged as I opened the fridge to get a beer out for him and a bottle of wine for myself.

"I don't mind. Do you want to go out for drinks later or just stay here? It is a Saturday so everywhere around here will be packed with women in their early twenties if you'd like your ego stroked a bit."

I was referring to the last time we'd gone out and made the mistake of going to a bar that turned out to be pretty unfriendly to celebrities. A lot of places in L.A. made it easy for celebrities to go under the radar, but the place we'd gone to apparently wasn't one of them. There was a steady stream of beautiful young women trying their luck with Chris all night until we eventually fled and went back to his place just to give him some peace.

Chris laughed, clearly understanding what I was referencing, but he shook his head.

"Honestly? I'd prefer to stay in tonight," he admitted, but a smirk slid onto his face as he very obviously gave me a once over. "But you got all dressed up and it would be a shame to waste an outfit like that on a night in."

"Oh, this old thing?" I glanced down at the short black sundress I was wearing, a blush covering my cheeks from his compliment. "I just put this on in case we did decide to go out, but staying in sounds good to me. I'm well stocked with supplies."

I gestured to the wine and beer on the counter and the few bottles of hard liquor behind them.

"Then we'll stay in?"

"Sure," I nodded as a thought hit me and I gasped with excitement. "Oh, we can sit on my balcony! It over looks the park and I just got a new little couch for it."

"Very fancy," Chris laughed. "You really are doing well for yourself."

"Shut up," I rolled my eyes. "I don’t think Ikea patio furniture is a particularly high aspiration for anyone."

"Don't sell yourself short! You're finally getting recognition for your talent and that's worth celebrating."

I smiled as I led him through the living room and opened the door to my balcony with a flourish. The heat of July in California hit us immediately, but the balcony was shaded which made it a more reasonable temperature.

"This is nice," Chris nodded approvingly. "Well done, Winnie."

He sat on the couch and held his beer up towards me. I gently clinked my glass against it before sitting next to him. I thanked him once I was settled, hiding the width of my grin with my glass as I took a sip.

"So, how was Massachusetts?" I asked, curling my feet underneath me. "Do you have much more time off or are you back at it pretty quick?"

"I've actually got some time off," Chris informed me. "I think I'll probably spend most of it back home. It was great being there the last few weeks. It just feels better than L.A."

"Most places probably feel better than L.A.," I pointed out with a scoff. "This place is exhausting."

"You should come visit some time," Chris suggested before flashing me a smirk. "I feel bad leaving you here when I'm clearly your only friend."

"Excuse me, that is not true!" I protested, my jaw dropping at his insult as he chuckled at his own joke. "I have plenty of friends, thank you very much. All those liquor bottles on the counter are leftover from my very crowded house-warming party."

"Oh, no, Winnie," he laughed, his hand coming up to his chest. "Don't try and provide evidence that you have friends. That makes you seem even more pathetic."

"More pathetic than what? I have friends!"

"Imaginary ones don't count."

I couldn't help, but laugh at that insult as I shook my head.

"You're so rude. I don't know why I put up with you."

"Because you have no one else." He shot me a very over the top look of pity until I swatted his arm and he dissolved into laughter again. "Okay, okay, I'll stop. Seriously though, you should come out to Massachusetts sometime. I'll show you around."

"That would be fun," I agreed. "I'm pretty busy with work over the summer, but I think I'm in New York for a shoot in September. I could maybe tie a trip in with that if you're still out there."

"I should be if nothing else comes up," Chris nodded. "And fall is a great time to come. It's gorgeous."

"I bet. It would be nice to experience a season instead of just this sweltering L.A. heat all the time."

I made a face to emphasize my point as I sipped my drink and Chris eyed me suspiciously.

"I can't help, but get the impression that you're not loving it here at the moment..."

"I don't know," I shrugged. "Not really. I thought moving into a better apartment would help, but I'm just kinda tired of it, I guess."

"It can be draining here," he nodded. "Have you thought about moving somewhere else?"

I sighed and shook my head.

"Not really. I'd miss my family too much. I'd have to have a good reason, I think, or know someone wherever I was going."

"Well, you'll always know someone in Massachusetts," he smiled. "And my Ma would love you. I'm sure she'd take you in right away."

"Awe, Mama Evans. I'd love to meet her...Mostly so I could demand an apology for her part in raising such a horrible man."

Chris threw his head back with another chest grab worthy laugh.

"Oh man, I know. My brother is pretty awful."

I snorted a laugh at his comeback, but shook my head.

"Scott was delightful the few times I met him," I informed him. "I was clearly talking about you."

"Me?!" He gasped dramatically. "What are you talking about? I'm a total gentleman."

"Imaginary friends don't count," I repeated his words back to him in a very bad impression of his deep voice and Boston accent. "Yeah, you're such a gentleman."

"It's called a joke, Winnie," he teased. "Try having a sense of humour."

I stuck my tongue out at him in response, but I had to admit that the teasing was nice. I really had missed him while he was away and I was relieved that we fell back together so naturally that it was like we'd never been apart.

Our conversation continued to flow well into the night and so did our drinks. A few hours later and several alcoholic beverages down, the temperature was starting to drop a bit as the sun set, but our conversation was just starting to heat up.

"So," Chris turned to me with a smirk as he sipped the tequila sunrise I'd just made for him. He'd sworn he wouldn't like it, that it would be too sweet, but apparently he was too tipsy to really care. "How's your love life these days? Any more trips to Hooters?"

I snorted a laugh as I shook my head.

"I need more alcohol if we're going to delve into my love life."

Mostly because the biggest detriment to my romantic life was currently sitting on the couch with me, but I wasn't going to volunteer that information. Chris nudged the bottom of the glass in my hand, gently enough not to spill any but firmly enough to lift it slightly.

"Drink up then because I'm curious. Especially after a statement like that."

The irony of someone who was very vocal about how much they hated being constantly interrogated and harassed about their love life trying to do that exact thing to me wasn't lost on me, but I knew he'd keep pestering me until I opened up. I did as Chris suggested and took a large swig of my drink before answering him.

"No, there hasn't been any more dates at Hooters lately," I assured him. "But I did go on a date last week that was disappointing in it's own way."

Chris raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? How so?"

"He turned out to be a Robert Downey Jr. fanboy," I admitted, rolling my eyes as Chris let out a laugh. "It was going well until I made the mistake of mentioning that he's my uncle. He wouldn't shut up about him - stop laughing! - It was awful. Honestly, he went on and on! I eventually asked him if he'd rather be on a date with my uncle than me."

"And what did he say?"

I scowled at the memory.

"He said yes and asked for his number." That admission drew another howl of laughter from Chris and I couldn't help, but giggle along with him despite my shaking head. "Honestly, Chris, it's not funny. I have the worst luck."

"You have the worst taste in men." He corrected and I wondered briefly if he'd be less confident in that statement if he knew that he was my taste, even more so when he continued. "You're only interested in the douchey guys and then you're always shocked when they act like assholes."

"That is so not true!" I protested. "How am I supposed to know they're going to be douche bags? We talk for like two days on a dating app before we meet up and they always seem normal!"

"What was this one's job?"

I cringed and took another big swig of my drink.

"A club promoter."

"Exactly!" Chris groaned. "And hadn't the one before him quit his job to try and get famous on YouTube?"

"Instagram," I corrected. "But, so what? I struggled for a long time before my career went anywhere. You can't judge people by something like that."

"For the most part, I agree with you," Chris nodded. "But there are some careers that only attract a certain kind of person."

I huffed at his logic, but there was some truth to what he was saying.

"Dating is just hard these days," I insisted. "Besides, from what I've seen online lately, you're one to talk about messy relationships."

Now it was Chris' turn to take a gulp of the drink in his hand as he raised an eyebrow at my claim.

"Everything you read about me is bullshit, you know that. I haven't dated anyone lately, people just like to make things up."

"Oh, what I was reading the other day wasn't really about who you were dating."

That got his attention as he shot me a surprised look.

"What was it about then?"

"I thought it was all bullshit?" I smirked. "Does it matter what it was if it's not true?"

Chris shrugged.

"Even if it's not true, I like to know what people are saying about me."

"And you don't have a team to provide you with that information?"

"I do," he nodded. "But they don't tell me everything so I'd love to know what you read."

I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling shy about disclosing what I'd seen. I took a moment to figure out how to say it before telling him.

"I stumbled across an article that claimed an anonymous source, who recently spent the night with you, told them that you are not particularly skilled at going down on a woman."

Chris' jaw dropped and I couldn't help, but laugh again at the outrage on his face.

"That's fuckin' bullshit!" He protested. "Why would anyone believe an anonymous source? It's obviously not true! Why would they even write that?"

I smirked again as I tried to hold back the laughter bubbling up inside me. Of course, I didn't believe an anonymous source and I felt bad for Chris that mean rumours like that were being spread around the internet, but that didn't mean I wasn't going to tease him about it anyway.

"I don't know. She must have had some kind of proof, they wouldn't have published it without fact checking."

"They absolutely would!" Chris laughed incredulously. "They publish anything that gets clicks!"

I shrugged and tried to stifle the giggles still fighting to come out.

"It seemed pretty believable to me. I'm not trying to be mean, but maybe just take the criticism and use it to grow."

"I don't need to use it to grow!" He insisted. "I have plenty of skills in that area, I've never had any complaints."

"Until now."

"It's not true!"

"Unfortunately, I'll never know..."

I froze, hearing my words echo through my head as Chris' eyes widened in surprise for a brief moment before a twinkle appeared. It was a simple statement, but we both picked up on what it implied, especially with the hint of intrigue, almost challenge, in my voice.

Chris tossed back the last of his drink and then shifted, sitting up a bit straighter as the look of annoyance on his face had changed into something almost cocky. I took a sip of my own drink, hoping to drown the nerves that were bubbling in my stomach as the cool evening breeze suddenly did nothing to ease the heat that surrounded us.

"Well, how am I suppose to prove it to you?"

He moved his hand until it was resting on my knee and I had to stifle a gasp at the sensation. We were fairly affectionate and much more touchy with each other than many friends were, but this felt different. There was a tension between us now and I swallowed hard, not wanting the alcohol in my system to make me misinterpret anything.

"I don't know." I bit my lip as he stared me down, a smirk back on his face now. "Why don't you de-describe it?"

Demonstrate.

Demonstrate was the word that I was looking for, the word that was on the tip of my tongue.

Describe was not quite as flirtatious. It was like I'd just set him some kind of essay assignment. I cringed, but Chris was unfazed as he chuckled and nodded his head.

"Alright," he shrugged. "Where should I start?"

Before I even had time to answer, he began his explanation.

His voice was low as he spoke, sparing no detail. He described every kiss, every touch and every little tease. By the time he was describing how much he liked to watch whoever was he was pleasuring, looking up from where his face was buried to see her orgasm roll through her body, I was almost shamelessly panting. His hand was still on my leg, stroking higher and higher on my thigh and I felt more aroused from his words than I had from the last few sexual encounters that I'd had.

He was watching me when he finished speaking, a smirk on his face and his eyes narrowed in a seductive stare as I took a shaky breath.

It was now or never.

Tossing back the last of my drink, I put my glass on the table. Then, I took the glass in his hand and did the same.

He was watching me the whole time, meeting my eyes as I sat back on the couch. My mind was running a mile a minute as the gravity of the situation hit me, but I tried to push all thoughts of doubt from my head as I bit my bottom lip in anticipation. His eyes flicked down to watch the movement and that was all the confirmation I needed.

I darted forward fast enough that I wouldn't have time to change my mind and pressed my lips against his.

There was a brief moment when he froze. I felt his hand tense on my thigh and his body seemed more rigid than it had moments ago, but he recovered quickly and a low growl came from his throat before his hands moved to my waist and effortlessly lifted me into his lap.

I gasped at the movement, momentarily taking my lips away from his, but before I could even mumble out any comments on his strength, he'd pressed our lips together again.

It was a sloppy kiss. Spurred on by our mounting tension and the panic bubbling inside me that any minute now he would change his mind and push me away in disgust, our movements were frantic and desperate. My hands slid around his neck, one moving up to the back of his head as if I needed to hold him in place, but his fingers digging into my waist made me think that he was having the same thought.

Eventually though, the need for air forced us apart and I rested my forehead against his as we fought to catch our breath. The pause in our actions gave my brain time to catch up to my body and I immediately felt the nerves kick in.

Logically, I knew we should slow things down and talk about what this meant. My feelings for Chris went deeper than a drunken hook up and I was setting myself up for heartbreak if he wasn't on the same page. However, there was a more impulsive part of my brain that didn't care. I'd wanted this for so long, surely I deserved a chance to just enjoy it.

As if Chris could read my mind, his deep voice cut through my thoughts.

"Are we really doing this?"

I bit my lip, knowing this was the time to voice any concerns that I had, but as I stared into his eyes, I couldn't make myself jeopardize the moment.

"Yes," I nodded. "I'm in if you are?"

A smirk slid onto Chris' face as he nodded as well.

"I've been waiting almost a whole fuckin' year for this," he admitted. "I'm absolutely in."

I felt my heart flutter at his confession. If he'd been waiting for this as long as I had then that must have meant that we were on the same page. No one waits that long for a meaningless fuck, he would have made a move by now if there wasn't more to it.

In an effort to silence my overactive brain, I pressed my lips back against his which proved to be the perfect distraction. All worries and cares slipped from my mind as his tongue slipped back into my mouth and his hands drifted down to cup my ass. I could practically feel them burning through my thin dress and as they squeezed slightly, pressing my hips closer towards his, I could tell that my panties were already much damper than was probably reasonable.

But the anticipation was practically killing me.

My body felt like it was on fire as every brush of his tongue, every caress of my skin, every sigh that fell from his lips against my mouth, had me writing against him like a cat in heat. Often, when I'd imagined what this moment would be like, I'd assumed it would be slow - we'd take our time and savour every touch - but I hadn't factored in just how desperate we'd both be or how quickly I would be filled with the absolute need for there to be less layers of fabric between us.

Chris sucked in a deep breath as his lips moved from mine, sliding lower to kiss along my jaw. I could feel a bulge growing between us, telling me that he was as overeager as I was so, as shivers tingled down my spine from the trail his mouth was taking, I fought through the distractions to speak.

"Chris," I panted. "Let's go inside."

His lips paused their movement as he nuzzled into my neck.

"Not much of an exhibitionist?"

"Not on the first date."

My words were teasing and a shrug of my shoulders accompanied my response, earning a chuckle from Chris.

"Alright, that's fair."

I nudged his head away from my skin so I could press another soft kiss to his lips.

My intention was to then climb off of his lap and lead him into my apartment, but he had other ideas as his hands slid under my thighs and his grip tightened. With one smooth motion and an impressive show of strength, he stood from the couch and lifted me up with him. I gasped and rushed to wrap my legs around his waist for stability, but the smirk on his face and the bulge of his bicep told me that it probably wasn't necessary. He was incredibly strong and it sent another flush of arousal through me at the thought of the beautifully sculpted physique under his clothes.

"Are you bulking up for Cap again?"

I mumbled the words in an attempt to keep my mind busy and stop myself before I started rubbing myself against his stomach. With the way my legs were positioned there was merely a shirt and my panties between us and it was entirely too tempting.

"Nah, got a month or two before that starts again," he informed me, quirking an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"

I pointed him towards the door of my bedroom before answering as I tried to keep the shock out of my voice.

"So, you're like, always this strong?"

Chris chuckled slightly as he kicked my bedroom door open.

"Well, I'm no club promoter," he teased. "But I do tend to stay at a certain level of fitness for when the job does require it."

My jaw dropped at his audacity to bring that up again at a moment like this, but I couldn't stop the snort of laughter that slipped out.

"Shut up," I demanded, letting my thumb stroke against the soft skin on the back of his neck. "Before I come to my senses and ask you to leave."

Now it was Chris' turn to laugh as he gently tossed me onto the bed before crawling over me like a lion stalking it's prey.

"C'mon," he smirked as he hovered over me. "I think we both know that the last thing you want me to do right now is leave."

With that, he pressed his lips back against mine before I had chance to argue. Not that I would have, because he was absolutely right. There was a long list of things I wanted him to do, but leaving was not one of them. In fact, as I let my arms slid over his toned shoulders, I pulled him even closer.

I couldn't get enough of him. I wanted to hear every little grunt and moan, I wanted to feel every inch of his body against mine, I wanted to see his muscles quiver and twitch with pleasure, I wanted him inside me and we'd barely even started. A year of waiting would make anyone desperate and, as much as I was revelling in his talented mouth as it moved against my own, I was eager to see what else he could do with it.

Sliding my hands down along his back, I ran them over his waist until they were at the hem of his shirt and, in an attempt to move things along, I slid them back up over his stomach, bringing his shirt with them. I paused, taking a moment to trace over his abs and he chuckled, moving his lips down to nuzzle them into my neck.

"That tickles," he mumbled against my skin as I smiled.

"Sorry, I'm just trying to wrap my head around the fact that these muscles are real."

"They are," he smiled up at me. "Are you impressed?"

"Maybe a little," I admitted with a smile of my own. "I'll be more impressed if you get these clothes out of the way and let me admire you properly."

He chuckled again, but didn't fight as I pulled his shirt over his head. The light in the room was dim and the way we were positioned didn't give me an optimal view, but what I could see was enough to draw a soft gasp from my lips.

I'd seen him shirtless and in even less from a few sneaky Google searches and watching his old movies, but seeing it all right in front of me was quite a treat. I had to double check that I wasn't drooling at the sight as I openly stared, my mouth slightly agape.

I realized I was probably ogling him a little too long when a faint blush covered his cheeks and he ducked his head back against my neck. He placed another soft kiss against my skin before he spoke.

"Now, it's your turn."

"Okay," I agreed, swallowing hard. "But just keep in mind that I don't look like that."

I ran my hands up and down his sides to emphasize what I was referring to and I felt more than heard him chuckle as he peered up at me once more.

"I'd be disappointed if we had the same upper body," he teased. "I mean, if I'm being honest."

I rolled my eyes despite the smile on my face.

"You know what I mean," I insisted. "I'm not sculpted by the Gods like you are."

His head fell back against my shoulder as he shook with laughter before shaking his head.

"You have nothing to worry about," he assured me. "You're too hard on yourself. You're fuckin' gorgeous."

His words took me back to the first night we met as the sincerity in his voice was the same as it had been back then. And there was something about the confidence with which he spoke that had me believing him.

So, as his hands slid under my dress - teasing the outside of my thighs in a way that had me biting my lip to force back a moan - I pushed any negative thoughts or doubts about myself from my mind. I even felt a hint of pride when my dress was discarded, exposing my lack of bra, and making Chris' eyes darken as they scoured over my body.

"Fuck, Winnie," he groaned as he soaked in the sight of my exposed chest. "You're beautiful."

I felt my heart flutter at the genuine awe in his voice and at his word choice. Gorgeous, hot, sexy - those are all compliments I would have loved to receive from him, but beautiful. It seemed deeper, more romantic. There was a brief reminder from the voice in my head that perhaps the importance of such a simple word was a signal I shouldn't be moving forward with this without having a very serious conversation about feelings first, but I was quick to ignore it as I pulled Chris back to my lips.

It seemed he was as desperate to move things along as I was though as his mouth didn't linger against mine for very long before it was trailing a path down my neck. He paused when he got to my chest, letting out a groan as he nuzzled the skin before sucking it just hard enough to leave a faint mark when he moved back. The sight had me squirming beneath him and he shot me a smirk before moving his lips to my nipple.

Gasping at the sensation, I arched up towards him as he continued to nip and tease me. If his current actions were anything to go by then whoever wrote the article that I read was very sorely mistaken. He appeared to be incredibly talented with his mouth and by the time he moved away from my nipple to continue his path down my body, my chest was heaving and I was sure that I was just one gentle touch away from my peak.

However, I was disappointed when he got to the top of my panties and, after licking along the skin of my lower stomach, pushed himself up and moved off of me to stand at the foot of my bed. I whined in protest, wanting him as close to me as possible, but all I got was a smirk in response.

"Patience," he mumbled as he unbuttoned his jeans.

I wanted to pout, to argue that I'd been patient enough in the last year, but any complaints died on my tongue as he pushed his jeans to the floor. As he stood in front of me, only in his underwear, my sense of urgency was replaced by an appreciation for the chance to admire his chiselled body. I propped myself up on my elbows to get a better view and he chuckled at the look of wonder that I was sure was on my face.

His underwear was the next thing to go and the anticipation turned quickly to shock as my jaw dropped at what he revealed. I could have assumed from the large bulge that he was quite well-endowed, but seeing it confirmed sent a whole new flush of arousal through me. I mumbled out a 'wow' as I bit my lip and tried to take it all in - he truly was a gorgeous man.

"Like what you see?"

His question snapped me out of my daze as he knelt back down on the end of the bed.

"Very much so," I nodded, desperate to feel his body over mine once again. "Come back up here."

"No," Chris grinned as he ducked down to place a kiss on my ankle. "Not yet."

Again, part of me wanted to argue and demand that he return his mouth to mine and get things moving, but before I could even open my mouth, he made his intentions clear - by tracing his fingers up my leg with his lips close behind.

I was quivering under his touch, still leaning up on my elbows when he reached the edge of the panties I was wearing. He glanced up at me as he licked along the lace before he bit into the material and tugged. I lifted my hips to ease his struggle as he yanked my panties down my legs with his teeth. The sight of it had me squeezing my thighs together, desperate for any kind of friction, but as soon as my underwear joined the rest of our clothes on the floor, he was quick to pull my legs apart again.

"Keep 'em open for me," he demanded, that damn smirk still firmly on his face. "I've got something to prove."

I giggled at that statement, but did as he asked. I was still watching his movements, until he dipped his head forehead and pressed his lips against me. That first moment of contact was enough to have my head flopping back against the pillows as my hands shot down to grip his hair. I was vaguely aware of him mumbling something about how wet I was, but my brain was too busy trying to process the pleasure he was giving me to take in his words.

He wasted no time demonstrating everything that he'd described to me earlier that night. His tongue was focused and precise in its movements and, contrary to what I read, he clearly knew what he was doing as he easily narrowed in on my clit. It wasn't enough though. I needed more pressure, more friction, and I pushed up towards him with a moan on my lips to urge him on. He wasn't having any of that as his hands looped under my thighs to settle on my hips, holding me in place, but he increased the pressure as he apparently understood what I needed despite my lack of ability to verbalize it.

I immediately felt a familiar feeling starting to build.

He sucked and licked with an urgency that I very much appreciated, flicking his tongue in just the right spot at just the right speed to have me trembling beneath him. I managed to gasp out a warning 'oh god' as my hands gripped his hair even tighter and I fell apart into a puddle of whimpers and moans. My orgasm hit me more fiercely than I'd imagined in my wildest fantasies of this moment and I arched up against him, his name pouring from my lips like a chant as he continued his efforts with a low groan of his own only adding to my pleasure.

As my breathing started to slow, Chris gently ceased his movements and moved his head back before resting his chin on my thigh. He cocked an eyebrow as he looked up at me.

"Well?"

"I'm going to write my own article," I told him, feeling that wonderful post peak bliss wash over me. "Because someone was obviously very misinformed."

Chris chuckled before pulling his hands from my hips to plant them on the bed and drag himself back over me.

"I'm glad I exceeded expectations."

"Mhmm," I hummed in agreement as his lips hovered above mine. "Now, let's see what else you can do."

Chris flashed me a smile and kissed me briefly before leaning back just enough to reach down and take his cock in his hand. Another moan fell from my lips as he rubbed it against me for a moment before nudging against my entrance and finally pressing inside. He moved slowly, but even so, I winced at the sensation. The slight burn as I stretched around him felt good but there was an undeniable ache as well. Sensing my hesitation, Chris paused and dropped his head for another soft kiss. I waited a moment, until the initial spark of discomfort had passed before pressing my hips up towards him.

He took the hint and continued his slow, almost torturous, movement until he was fully inside. The burning pain returned as it felt like he was taking up every inch of space I had to offer, but it felt incredible.

"Fuck," he breathed against my neck where his head had settled again. "You're tight..."

He shifted his hips pulling another gasp from my lips.

"Only because you're huge."

I felt a puff of laughter before he nipped at my shoulder.

"Thank you."

I would have smacked him for his cocky tone, but he moved then and suddenly my mind was blank of anything other than how good it felt. His movements were slow at first, every thrust dragging every inch of him against every nerve inside me, but his restraint quickly waned as his pace increased.

I let out a moan as my head fell back against the pillows and I hitched my leg higher on his hip. He moved his hand to the back of my thigh to hold it in place as he built a steady rhythm that had us both panting as I fought to match his thrusts. My fingers dug into his shoulders as his short beard rubbed against my skin.

The sensations were overwhelming. It was like he was completely encompassing me, smothering all of my senses and I could feel the pressure building again in the pit of my stomach in a way that it all felt like too much, but not enough all at the same time. I clenched around him, earning a groan of approval from Chris as I swore I could feel him twitch inside me. The pleasure was building quickly and his thrusts got sloppier and more frantic until suddenly he pulled out of me completely.

I felt empty and immediately wanted him back inside of me, my disappointment only growing as he pushed himself up to kneel back on his heels. The only compensation was how good he looked, muscles tight and his cock hard, practically throbbing and shiny from my being drenched in my wetness.

"Turn over," he instructed, his raspy voice bringing me back to the task at hand.

It took a moment for me to process his words, but I giggled as soon as I did.

"What?" He asked, a smile on his face.

"Nothing," I laughed again as I pushed myself up to do as he asked. "You just really are 'clearly' an ass man."

A look of realization crossed his face as he cringed slightly, his hand pausing from where he had reached down to stroke himself. I settled on my knees with my back to him as he answered.

"You heard about that?"

He was referring to the comments that he made on Anna Faris' podcast and I nodded my head.

"Everyone heard about that," I teased.

He chuckled, but didn't deny it as I leaned forward to rest on my hands. The wetness between my legs felt cool from the air in the room and I suddenly felt very exposed, knowing what the view must look like from his position. Again, my worries were brief though as his hands settled on my ass, kneading and squeezing as he let out a low groan.

"With an ass like this though, can you blame me?" He asked, sliding the fingers of one hand down towards the part of me that was practically throbbing with need. My head fell forward as he gently brushed over my clit before sinking two fingers inside me. It wasn't enough, not after the stretch of his cock, but he moved them with almost criminal precision against a spot that made me tense as I moaned with pleasure. "You've been drivin' me wild ever since that night we met. Those black jeans were so tight, it was like you were poured into 'em."

His words were muttered low and quiet and as much as I appreciated the compliment, I was such a puddle of mush from the movement of his fingers that I couldn't string together a sentence in response. He kept talking, whispering words of encouragement and adoration and it only added to my pleasure, but it wasn't until his thumb pressed against my clit that I felt myself start to bubble over. With a cry that I hoped served as a warning of my impending climax, I arched my back to press myself further towards him.

"Atta girl, Winnie..."

His breath was hot against the cheek of my ass and he continued his actions, placing a soft kiss on my skin. I was close, so close, but just not quite there until he did something that surprised me and sank his teeth into the spot his mouth was resting on. It wasn't enough to break the skin, but it was enough to leave a mark and it was definitely enough to send me over the edge. Moaning out his name again as I pressed back towards him, I felt myself quivering around his fingers as the pleasure tore through my body.

My elbows were quaking with effort as they tried to hold me up while he kept his fingers gently working until my orgasm came to an end. I wasn't sure how much more I could take, but I knew I wanted him inside me again so I shot him a look over my shoulder.

"Chris," I panted. "Fuck me, please."

His eyes darkened at my request, but he wasted no time, quickly shifting until he was positioned behind me and sliding himself back inside. He felt even bigger in our new position and his need was made clear as his hands settled on my hips to use them as leverage, thrusting into me at a much more frantic pace than he had before.

The stretch and feel of him deep inside me had me moaning and arching my back once again, but I was doubtful that I would reach another peak - until Chris slid one of his hands from my hip, over my stomach and back down to my clit. The sensation combined with his movements and all the noises pouring from his mouth had a tightness in my stomach forming again with shocking speed. It was just shy of overwhelming as my two previous orgasms had left me feeling rather sensitive already, but when Chris picked up the pace even more, his grunts and groans getting more desperate, I leaned into the sensation. It only took a minute or two more before he finally pressed himself deep inside me, stilling as he let out a low moan and I followed him over the edge once more.

After a few final thrusts through his release, Chris leaned forward to press his chest against my back. I could feel how hard he was breathing and soaked in the moment of bliss until my arms finally gave out underneath me. We landed in a heap face down on the bed, but Chris quickly rolled off of me before pulling me tight against his side.

"Wow," he breathed out. "Winnie, that was...wow."

I smiled as I rested my head on his chest.

"It was," I agreed. "I take back any doubts about your abilities."

He chuckled and placed a soft kiss on the top of my head.

"Thanks," he smiled as I peered up at him until he let a yawn slip out. "Mind if I stay here tonight?"

His question made my own smile widen even more.

"Of course not!"

He breathed out a sigh of relief at my words as I felt a wave of reassurance myself. He wanted to stay. He wasn't about to rush out the door the moment we were done and I filed that information away as more evidence that we were on the same page.

I felt like I should get up - to use the bathroom and offer my guest some water - but our activities had my whole body feeling like jelly. I was vaguely aware of a mumbled 'goodnight' from Chris, but I found myself drifting off to sleep before I could even respond.

The next morning as I slowly woke up, it took me a moment to remember why I was naked and why there was a pleasant, but very noticeable ache between my thighs. As the memory came back to me, a smile slid onto my face, but when I rolled over to find the bed empty, a flicker of worry sparked in the pit of my stomach. Especially when a glance at the clock told me that it was only seven in the morning. We couldn't have fallen asleep much before one so there was no good reason for him to be out of bed already.

I called out his name, hopeful that he would respond, but I wasn't entirely surprised when he didn't. The dread I was feeling intensified at the silence around me and I dragged myself out of bed with the intention of checking if he was in the bathroom or perhaps back out on the balcony. However, the sight of what was on the floor, or more accurately what wasn’t on the floor, made me pause. My dress and panties were laying where they'd been tossed, but his clothes were no where to be seen.

Trying to keep a level head, I quickly pulled on the oversized shirt that I usually slept in and ventured out of my bedroom, but my fears were quickly confirmed. My apartment was empty.

At first, I gave him the benefit of the doubt as I desperately tried to rationalize his disappearance. Maybe he woke up early and went out to get us breakfast and coffee? The dull throbbing in my head told me that I could certainly use a good shot of caffeine and it was a pretty safe bet that he was feeling the same. But, when he didn't return after half an hour, I assumed that theory was just an optimistic wish.

After forty-five minutes of sitting on my couch, watching the door - willing it to open and for Chris to appear - I sent him a text. I tried to keep it low key and chill, but after another hour of staring at my phone, the words "Hey, where'd you go?" started to seem more and more desperate.

By ten o'clock with no response and no sign of Chris returning, I accepted the situation for what it was.

He wasn't coming back.

It was a drunken mistake that he clearly regretted.

We'd risked our entire relationship for one night of wonderful, incredible, but meaningless sex and he didn't even have the guts to stick around long enough to talk to me about it.

One stupid night and I'd lost one of my best friends.

The thought brought tears to my eyes and, before I could stop myself, I was blubbering like a baby as I curled up on my couch. I was devastated and heartbroken. I'd let myself believe that maybe he wanted me the same way that I wanted him because we were so close and I never would have imagined that he would let it go that far just to ditch me in the morning without even a goodbye. Surely, after a year of such strong friendship, I deserved more than that.

But no matter how stupid and naive I felt in that moment, nothing would compare to the level of utter foolishness I felt later that day when I was tiding up and realized that there wasn't a condom in sight.

Part Two

Tags: @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10 @partypoison00 @theladybiers @sidepieces

#chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fic #chris evans one shot #once bitten/more hearts

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jaypsnax · 3 years

Photo

Alright then, to take it from the top... here’s some things I’ve done here or there for this dang game, from oldest to newest. With a big chunk of months starting with the margin Floofty there. Much is traditional and such, which is not my most practiced medium. Details on each below, just because I like over-explaining and it helps my nerves about posting.

1st: Fairly certain this Gramble is the first thing I did that was OK enough to show. Or, at least close to the first. He was one of my favorites and still is for his kindness(though he also can be really mean and paranoid, also a reason why I like him), so I wanted to get around to em. Also he’s very cute, I love my little malewife. I wanna scoop him up and hold him. Trouble is, Gramble has to have some of the most awkward proportions I’ve yet experienced while trying to draw a grumpus, I swear. That, and the more I looked at it, the more I grew to be unhappy with it. That generally applies to basically all of the drawings from last year, I find them to be “eh” at best. But it is what it is. 2nd: Second up is Flooftyyy, my most favorite. Intelligent, well-spoken, morally ambiguous, NB... and an asshole. But one with a cause they believe in that’s ultimately well intentioned, which they’ll go to self-destructive lengths to fulfill. And it’s clear they struggle to really get a grasp on how to treat people and have learned to cope with their frustration by shutting everyone out and believing them to be ignorant. While still obviously playing favorites between Eggabell and Triffany :p But by the end of the game, they’re learning that in order to really do what they want, they’ve got to really try and understand others. They’re the sort that I’d love to keep following to see their development. The awkwardness, the uncomfortable apologies and attempts at empathizing or opening up, the potential for blossoming relationships and a connection with others that, maybe, they’ve never quite experienced before. Their character is one that’s kind of close to my heart for being interesting and also quite similar to one I made and roleplayed for years. Add in the fact they’re NB and that just sealed the deal, that’s some fucking gender goddamn euphoria right there. So I had to draw them. 3rd: This one also mostly falls under the same explanation as above, except it was an effort as really figuring out grumpus bodies and proportions and stuff. Albeit in the form of solely Floofty, but my mental bandwidth for anything more than a drawing or two at a time is zilch. After that I’m spent. It was the first thing that I felt even marginally satisfied with, however.... I just feel like I’m in danger when looking at it. Like I’m gonna lose my way of things and habits I’ve built now from observing it too closely. Did keep the eyes, however. Kind of. 4th: To be real w you I just felt like drawing a Filbo after seeing a Filbo. He’s cute and I’d put a smooch on his dumb little head. Also more practice w grump stuff, but with some intentional attempts at stylization. I guess it didn’t stick, but who knows, maybe I could pick some of it back up? 5th: THE FIRST NEW DRAWING FROM A FEW DAYS AGO and it’s FLOOFTY, of course. It’s not really the first, there’s a few other things before it, but they suck so... yeah. I’d crawled out of the Bugsnax hole somewhat after a few months and failing to really do anything I actually wanted to do before, but a particular fic conked me right back 6 ft under. Piled the dirt over me and packed it in tight. So here I am again. And not only is it like that, but after binging a whole nearly 60,000 words in a night/morning, I was struck with the inspiration to actually write myself. Or try to, anyway. I have experience in RPing, but not a whole lot in actually... making a story myself. It’s not been going well, but I’ve talked plenty about that already... I’m sure it gets annoying for the whole maybe one person whose seen most of it to witness. And I’m still having fun. I’d mention the fic, but considering it’s NSFW and I’m officially tagging this... I don’t know if they’d want me advertising it as such. But surprise surprise, it’s Floofty related. And don’t get the wrong idea, while it covers explicit subject matter, that’s not entirely the point. Not a bad thing if it were, just that it’s more than that. I just like good character writing over all else, which is something liking this game to begin with heavily reinforced.... 6th: Heeeere’s Gramble, again. I’d been doing some little drawings for character profile stuff in my notebook, but I started to run into some difficulties when I got to him. This here is one of the results of the couple of little draws I did to try and understand. Again, his proportions are so *weird*. He’s just a little guy.... 7th, 8th, 9th, 10th: Here marks the first impulse draw after considering Buddy/Filbo/Beffica poly stuff. As well as the sudden Buddy drawing in general, which came as a big shock to me. These draws are suuuper rough, but I like the concepts. And goodness has this stuff been a whole ‘nother tangent... I did a fair amount of talking about it here. I’d do more, since there were TONS of details I still wanted to mentioned, but... my hands are starting to hurt. So maybe later. I realized that I kinda of messed up their design in my head bc I thought they had more similar teeth to Clumby. Whoops. That’s what I get for not using reference and same with FlooFTY’S TEETH AND THE WATCH NOOOOOOOOOO- .... *Ahem* I reckon the design is subject to change. Gotta make some little adjustment here or there, like maybe different eyes to distinct them from Floofty, but I actually rather... like the look. The hat, tie, and maybe a change to a bag on the side look nice... if totally not canon. But I will have just a little break from canon, as a treat. Otherwise it’s canon or bust. Personally, at least. I don’t really hold others to that standard unless they say they’re trying to follow canon or diverge so badly that a character is unrecognizable.

#bugsnax #Floofty Fizzlebean #Filbo Fiddlepie #Beffica Winklesnoot #Journalist #uhhhhh #Gramble Gigglefunny #This is NOT going to be a common thing #Floating around in official tags kinda freaks me out #my art

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lloydskywalkers · 4 years

Text

any port in a storm

Pixal and Lloyd and the evolving nature of friendship, as highlighted by the regular burning down of your city.

(desperately trying to break through writer’s block and classes again, this was supposed to be under 2k and it is...very much not hdfjkgh but! i’ve been meaning to write for Pixal and Lloyd for a while so here are a whole bunch of feelings about the two of them and s8)

Pixal meets — truly meets — Lloyd Garmadon shortly after his brother’s been blown to pieces.

She says truly, because if you ask her, Pixal will tell you she met Lloyd Garmadon at exactly 8:48 in the evening outside his father’s monastery, moments before a horde of nindroids led there by Pixal herself descended upon them.

But Lloyd argues that since they said about two words total to each other, it doesn’t really count as meeting, and by the time Pixal’s spending the better part of her day with him running high and low around Ninjago City, she’s learned that it’s easier not to press the point.

Lloyd can be stubborn, like that.

She’d first learned that when she’d met him, just after they’d lost Zane. That loss hadn’t lasted long, especially for Pixal, but the immediate aftermath of it had been devastating. She’d watched with blank eyes as the team had fractured, splitting at the seams as they all fled their separate ways, too heartsore and dizzy with grief to do much otherwise.

All of them had fled, save Lloyd. She hadn’t paid him much attention before that point, the surprisingly small bearer of the Golden Power. Of course, he wasn’t the bearer of that power anymore, but his eyes alone had shown the experience of it. There’d been a brief, lost look that had crossed his face as the others had mentioned leaving, before it had been swept under a mask of stubborn, determined blankness. He wouldn’t be leaving. Someone had to stay behind and watch out for things, he’d claimed, even as the loss had bled through his voice.

Pixal hadn’t quite grasped the concept of empathy at that point, but she’d felt something dangerously close to it.

At any rate, the only interaction they’d had alone was brief. In fact, the only one Pixal can truly remember — and her memory never fails — is the quick exchange they’d had in the hospital lobby directly after the battle. The hospital was for Mr. Borg, and for the ninja’s minor injuries.

There was nothing any hospital on earth could do for Zane.

Pixal had found herself next to Lloyd in the waiting room, trying to distract herself from those thoughts while Lloyd stared at the stark white tiling with dull eyes.

“They never mentioned what your power was,” she’d asked him, almost absently. Collecting data, processing information — anything she could do to distract from the crushing grief.

“Oh.” Lloyd had blinked, startling back into awareness. He’d suddenly looked painfully young. “It’s, ah, I guess it’s just green, now.”

It had been Pixal’s turn to blink. “Green.”

“Yeah.” Lloyd had bit his lip, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly, two habits he’ll never quite lose. “I mean — it’s more than that, but it’s like — energy, I guess, is the best way to put it?”

“Interesting,” Pixal had remarked.

“Yeah.”

They’d stared at each other in silence after that, before they’d both been called off to other errands — and then they were having Zane’s funeral and then Pixal was making realizations she never got to tell anyone, and that had been that in her early introductions to Lloyd Garmadon. Quiet, awkward, and possessing an incredible power he hardly even knew the name of.

Looking back, Pixal figures her introduction hadn’t gone much better.

They’d continued as passing acquaintances as time went on, separated by danger and the confines of Zane’s head, and Pixal had figured that’s all they’d ever be. But then their Sensei goes missing and, despite Pixal’s increasing disappearances on Zane as she rebuilds her own body, she’s been given the role of watching out for Ninjago city along with Lloyd.

She quickly learns that quiet is not a term fit for Lloyd Garmadon when you’re trapped alone with him.

************

“How is there not a single station playing actual music?” Lloyd seethes, flicking through the channels almost manically. “It’s two am, who’s gonna be listening to your stupid commercial for toothpaste now, are you kidding me?”

“Statistically speaking, this is the prime time for long-distance driving near Ninjago City,” Pixal supplies, her voice a hint scratchy where it comes through the his car’s radio speakers. “Or, if you factor in the construction in the east district, there could still be traffic from late-night bars.”

Lloyd groans, thunking his head against the steering wheel as another ad screeches through the small space. “Wonderful.”

“Your vocal tones suggest you find it otherwise.”

“Dont trust ‘em, my vocal tones are traitors.” As if to solidify his point, Lloyd’s voice cracks in the middle of his sentence, shooting up an octave higher. Lloyd goes bright red, and thunks his head against the steering wheel again.

Taking pity on him, Pixal aims for reassurance. “It is normal for your voice to break, Lloyd. It shouldn’t last too long.” She pauses, momentarily scanning through another article. “On second thought, this one suggests it could also take two to three years for your voice to stabilize.”

Lloyd gives a strangled moan. “End me.”

“Unfortunately, that would defeat the purpose of why I’m here in the first place.”

Lloyd tilts his head, cracking an eye open as he glances at the camera feed he knows she’s watching him from. “Unfortunately, huh,” he muses. “So you’re saying if Zane hadn’t made you promise to look out for me, you would end me?”

“That — no, that is not — of course I wouldn’t end you,” Pixal backtracks. An odd feeling flickers through her, almost as if she’s lost her place, floundering.

Or embarrassed might be more accurate, she thinks wryly. She briefly considers projecting a a glaring face at Lloyd from the monitor. This is his fault. She rarely stuttered before Lloyd started teasing her at all hours of the morning.

“I mean, you wouldn’t be the first,” Lloyd continues, conversationally. “And if we’re being honest, I’d definitely rather you be the one to off me, instead of like, random bad guy number eighty-five—”

“I know you think you are funny,” Pixal cuts over him. “But casually planning for your death is something Kai listed I was not to let you do. Also, it is not nearly as funny as you think it is.”

“Ouch,” Lloyd mutters, though he looks chastised. “Never mind, you just took me out in one sentence.”

Chastised might be the wrong term.

Pixal studies him through the monitor, then sighs. “I am, however, honored you think highly enough of me to offer the right to murder you,” she gives in.

She’s rewarded as Lloyd breaks into a bright grin.

He still looks painfully young these days, but it’s less obvious. His voice is pitching lower and he wears his hair different, and he’s gained a whip-like tendency to quip at people, as Pixal’s experienced firsthand. Kai calls it sass in grumbling but fond tones, and Nya calls it snark somewhere between the fourth book series she’s sent for Pixal to try.

The ninja have been kind like that, sharing the interests they have in an attempt to make her feel…well, more human, she supposes. Less confined to a voice in a computer. Of course, Pixal isn’t confined to a voice in a computer anymore, but they don’t know that yet. She’ll tell them someday soon, she promises herself. Any day now.

In the meantime, it’s easy enough to keep up with Lloyd by lurking in his car radio, as he spends half his time in there anyways.

************

“You’d think we’d have found their hideout by now,” Lloyd notes, as they wait in a darkened alleyway again. It gives them an excellent view of the major highways, so if the rumored biker gang does show up, they won’t miss it.

If they show up being the key point.

“Whoever their leader is, they certainly know how to keep a low profile,” Pixal answers, closing out another dead end police report in frustration.

“It’s weird,” Lloyd says, propping the notebook he’s sketching in on his knee as he squints at the paper. “Normally the boss types aren’t this quiet. They like to show off, y’know? Make a big scene, dramatic speeches and all.”

“Are you referring to the villains, or yourselves?”

“Touché,” Lloyd snorts. “But still, you gotta admit it’s weird they haven’t even made any demands. What’s their end game here, elaborate advertising for motorcycle design?”

“I would hope not,” Pixal says. “Their color coordination is lacking.”

Lloyd fights back a smile, his pencil scratching as he shifts his notebook again. “I don’t know, I kinda like the punk look.”

“I noticed that, when you tried to redecorate the car.”

“Hey, skulls are cool.”

“They are also conspicuous, especially when they come in acid green colors.”

“Everyone’s a critic,” Lloyd sighs, making a face as he scrubs the eraser across the paper. Pixal tries to tilt the camera further, to see what he’s drawing tonight, but the angle he’s holding it at remains just out of sight.

She could probably guess what he’s drawing, if she tried. The notebook is one they’ve been steadily working their way through on these late-night patrols, the pages filled with little hangman games and Lloyd’s sketches of animals and his teammates. He’s drawn her a few times from memory, and she’s been tempted to ask him to draw her in the new Samurai X armor more than once.

Soon, she tells herself.

“What are you drawing?” she finally asks, curiosity getting the better of her.

Lloyd’s cheeks tinge pink, and he quickly plasters the notebook to his chest, hiding it entirely from view. “Nothing.”

Pixal waits, letting the silence fill with her judgement. “Lloyd, I have seen your drawings before.”

He doesn’t reply, and Pixal tries again. “It gets boring, being stuck with the car monitors for eyes.”

“I know you can hack other cameras,” Lloyd mutters, but he sighs, relenting as he turns the notebook over. Pixal’s eyes rake over the detailed sketch — it’s a comical little thing of her and Lloyd, jammed together on a tiny lifeboat in the middle of a darkening ocean. She can spot the smudges where he’s redrawn her head several times, and the numerous attempts he’s made at his own hair. Pixal studies Lloyd’s portrayal of himself, which is noticeably lacking in facial features. While Lloyd draws the others plenty, it’s a rare occasion that he draws himself, and she can’t help but be curious.

“I thought you were drawing the others again,” she admits.

“They’re on the ship,” Lloyd says, absently. “I’ll draw them when they remember to pull us back in.”

There’s nothing bitter in his tone to suggest it has any bearing on their actual lives, but the lost expressions Lloyd ends up giving their tiny caricatures feel familiar nonetheless.

“Zane has assured me they will be back as soon as they can,” Pixal speaks ups quietly.

Lloyd finally looks up fully, and flashes the monitor a smile. “I know,” he says. ��So we better have this thing busted by the time they do, or they’ll never let us run a city on our own again.”

“If only we were truly running the city,” Pixal grumbles. “I could do a better job in two days than the current leaders could do in a year.”

“I’d vote for you,” Lloyd says, sincerely.

It’s a sweet gesture, but Pixal is unable to resist. “You don’t know how to vote.”

“Yes I do, it’s not hard!”

“Really? Then why are you not currently registered in the Ninjago voting system?”

Lloyd makes a strangled noise. “That’s a thing?”

She’s unable to keep the smugness from her voice. “I make my point.” Lloyd scowls, and scribbles a mustache on his drawing of her in revenge.

Pixal thinks it looks nice nonetheless.

************

She can’t really hold it against Lloyd for talking as much as he does, considering she does the same. It gets dull, sitting on patrol for hours on end, and there are only so many hours of light reading they can do before the silence begins to drive them both insane.

Pixal finds herself talking about more useless things with Lloyd than she has in her existence, pointless conversations in circles with each other. She also finds she doesn’t entirely mind. She’s become quite good at quipping back and forth with him, at least. It’s different than the kind of talk she has with Zane, lacking in the depth of feeling with the love they share. Her exchanges with Lloyd are lighter, though that’s not to say they’re less sincere.

For example, Zane hasn’t tried to teach her how to redesign a gi in poor lighting in the early hours of the morning because he’s bored out of his mind, that’s for sure.

“I’m teaching you how to sew,” Lloyd corrects, wincing as he accidentally stabs himself with the needle. “And I’m not redesigning the whole thing, I’m just adding some designs to spice it up.”

“I did not know you were allowed to wear colors other than green,” Pixal comments.

Lloyd pauses, squinting at the monitor. “You’re teasing me,” he finally says. “You’re making fun of how much green this gi has in it.”

“I would never,” Pixal replies, her tone flat and even. “The intricacies of your human humor evade me—”

“Human humor, nice—”

“—unlike the unusually bright shade of green you’ve chosen will fail to evade any eyes of your enemies.”

“I knew you were making fun of me!” Lloyd accuses, then flinches as he stabs his finger again trying to point at her. “And bright colors are our thing. Being subtle is, uh…not. Usually.”

Pixal is losing the battle to laugh at his expression by the minute. “I am shocked.”

Lloyd glares at the monitor, shifting his sewing to rest on his knees as he slouches in the car seat. “How’d you even get so good at sarcasm, anyways,” he mutters. “Zane still doesn’t get it half the time.”

“Perhaps it is part of my glowing personality,” Pixal says. Lloyd gives a huff of laughter, relenting.

“Fair enough,” he says, shifting in his seat again. “Fine, you win. The green is probably too bright, but that’s not the point. I’m gonna show you how to do a backstitch."

Pixal falls quiet, letting Lloyd gesture with the needle as he explains. There are a hundred, a thousand tutorials she could pull up online, digitized knowledge instantly learned on all the countless types of stitches she could use, sorted and categorized in neat columns of use and effectiveness. All of them more detailed, more easily understood than Lloyd’s absent rambling and unsteady hands as he struggles with the end of a knot.

Not one of them will care whether or not Pixal learns the odd way Zane likes to loop his stitches, or will quietly add which stitches knit skin back together quickest.

So Pixal ignores her programming, and does her best to follow Lloyd’s rambling instructions, watching as his scarred fingers tug another thread of dull gold through the green mess of fabric, the city quiet around them.

“You never did tell me where you learned how to sew,” Pixal says, as Lloyd starts up a new thread of black on the other side of the gi. “Was that something the others taught you in training?”

“They’d have to know how to be able to teach it,” Lloyd snickers. “And, uh, no. I taught myself to back at Darkley’s.”

“Oh,” Pixal falters. She’s heard about Darkley’s, both from Zane and the legal reports she’s read online. Neither gave a positive impression of the place. Her mind is suddenly filled with images of a younger Lloyd trying to give himself stitches, and her heart twists.

Lloyd starts, seemingly having picked up on her train of thought. “I mean, I did it for fun, mostly. I like sewing,” he explains. “It’s useful. You can pull things back together, and fix ‘em.”

Pixal is quiet, but she hopes Lloyd takes her silence as agreement with his motive. She likes to think he knows her well enough for that, by now.

************

Pixal finds, somewhere during their fourth month alone, that she’s glad the team elected to stick her and Lloyd together. Not because she doesn’t want to be with Zane — there’s never a moment she doesn’t miss him, and with every day that passes her resolve to keep her secret from him grows weaker, as the longing for actual connection grows stronger.

But there are conversations she can have with Lloyd that she can never have with Zane, and the dangerous thing about spending time with Lloyd, Pixal finds, is that they’re more similar than she’s realized.

“Sometimes I think I’m jealous,” Lloyd whispers to her one night. It’s one of the bad ones, the ones where their enemies struck too sudden to stop, and the mission ends in the hospital. “I think I’m jealous of Zane, and I hate myself for it.”

Pixal is quiet, trying to pick apart the tone of his voice in the words he’s just spoken, and factors in the victims they’ve just left behind at the hospital. She finds herself no closer to an answer.

“Is it the metal skin part?” she finally asks, though she knows that’s wrong. “The, what was it, technical immortality?”

“No,” Lloyd shakes his head. “I’m not afraid of dying,” he says emphatically, his fingers fluttering at over the steering wheel, tapping incessantly with unspent energy. “I don’t want to, but that’s — it’s not what I’m scared of. I’m more scared of how I go out.”

He swallows, and his fingers move to dance over the woven bracelet on his wrist instead, twisting at the tiny beads and tracing senseless designs in constant, steady movement. It’s a motion he does often, and it had puzzled Pixal at first. She’d decided to write it off as an odd tick, a way to spend excess energy.

Now, she recognizes the desperate kind of reassurance that movement gives. She understands too well the need to remind yourself that you can move — that your body will obey you and you alone.

Pixal thinks back to the other factors in tonight’s accident, of the way the drugged man’s eyes had cleared when they’d finally turned him over to the police, the way he’d sworn he’d never do such a thing in his right mind. She thinks of the way the first victim had thrown themselves over their companion.

That victim hadn’t made it to the hospital.

“Ah,” Pixal says, quietly.

She’s silent again, and she thinks back to when she’d met him, the very first time. She recalls the way her programming had rebelled against her in favor of the Overlord, corrupting her body and forcing it against her, twisting everything she was and wanted to be into something different.

She thinks back again, to the searing-hot anger, the terror, the despair as she was torn apart, piece by piece like a machine, burning out at the whims of another. Her end purposeless, her demise belonging to someone else, just like every other part of her.

She thinks of the last glimpse she’d caught of Zane, bright and beautiful as a supernova. Burning with the terrible brilliance of his own, determined choice. Terrible, because the death of something always is. Beautiful, because it was his own. Zane died, not a machine, not a weapon, not a tool of anyone or anything, but as himself. Zane died to save the ones he loves. Pixal could’ve died for spare parts.

Never again, she promises herself. If she goes out, she goes out on her own terms. This time, they choose the end of their own destiny themselves.

In hindsight, it’s the kind of promise they’re both too young to make, but neither of them have ever seen themselves as such, and promises like that are easy.

“Love can be terrible, sometimes,” Lloyd murmurs. Pixal watches him scrub at the blood on his uniform, and thinks how ironically well-timed it is that he finished the stitching on his new gi this morning. “Sometimes I forget how ugly it can be.”

************

The end of their nighttime stakeouts begins with a break-in at Mr. Borg’s tower. Lloyd argues that she should get to call it her father’s tower, if she wants, but the ninja aren’t the only ones Pixal’s hiding herself from.

And then Lloyd gets very tense at the thought of fathers very fast, and they never finish the conversation.

They stay at the edge of the bridge long after the parachute, emblazoned with the unmistakable visage of Lloyd’s father, disappears from sight. Pixal wonders if it’s burned into Lloyd’s eyes, like the way she’s read black spots linger in humans’ vision after they’ve looked at something too bright. The way Lloyd stares at the river, his shoulders tense and his teeth worrying at his lip, she thinks she might be right.

They’re waiting on the report from the commissioner —they’re waiting for anything, anyone who can offer them any explanation of what’s going on. Pixal’s reminded of how much she loathes this kind of waiting.

“It could be—” Lloyd begins, then breaks off, his voice wavering. He swallows, and Pixal can see the way his fists clench tightly from the cameras they’ve put in his car. There’s a fierce part of her that longs to reveal herself, to meet his eyes herself and offer some semblance of comfort. But there’s a time and place for things, and Pixal isn’t ready.

“It could be anything,” Lloyd finally continues, his voice small. “It could — it doesn’t mean anything. It could mean nothing, right?”

Pixal is silent, her mind racing. She’s run the calculations over and over in her head already, scouring the internet for anything related to the bikers. She’s been foolish, she realizes — they both have. Letting the gang go unnamed for so long, thinking nothing of it. Now, with the name flashing vibrant across Pixal’s vision, a part of her wants to let them go nameless just a bit longer.

Before she can answer, Lloyds phone goes off with a sharp ping, just as Pixal’s sensors alert her to the message from the commissioner. Lloyd snatches for his phone like it’s on fire, and Pixal’s already scanning the message frantically, as if she can salvage this if she’s fast enough, save Lloyd from this one pain.

Lloyd’s gotten much better at reading quickly though, these days.

She can pinpoint the moment he reaches the last paragraph, because his breath hitches. There’s a long, pressing pause of silence, Lloyd’s hands trembling as they clutch weakly at his phone. Then it’s punctured by a reedy, wheezing gasp, and Pixal’s suddenly wishing she’d revealed herself after all.

Instead, all she has is her voice as Lloyd crumples, crouching over in visible distress. Pixal’s mind races, recalling everything Zane’s ever told her about his team, the way their panic manifests in different shades. Lloyd’s is quiet but desperate, rapid breathes that stutter as his eyes slide more and more into a frightening kind of blankness.

“Lloyd, please, listen to my voice,” she begs, trying to reach him in the only way she can. “Please, you have to breathe—”

“He’s gone,” Lloyd rasps, unhearing of her words. “He’s s’posed to be gone, it’s supposed to be over, I’m supposed to be done—”

Pixal fights back the sense of overwhelming helplessness. She knows loss. She knows how to finish his sentence. He’s supposed to be done grieving, done mourning, done clinging to false scraps of hope that his father isn’t lost forever only to be met with heartbreak.

And now, to be met with the possibility of something so much worse.

“We’ll stop them,” she tells him, unflinching. “We won’t let it happen.”

Lloyd’s eyes are a vivid green where they stare at her through the monitor, almost ghostly in the misting light reflecting from the river.

He’s silent, but Pixal is, too.

Pixal remembers the way her head had spun when she’d first picked up the traces of Zane in the system, how the world had rushed then steadied, flooding with color as she’d realized he might not be lost after all. She remembers the surging, overwhelming flood of joy, that someone she’d thought she lost might live after all. She remembers being so happy, at even the smallest chance to get him back, because the voice was Zane’s, without a doubt.

She watches the color seep from Lloyd’s expression as his shoulders shudder, the words from the commissioner’s message almost echoing through the air. Watches the terror as the both of them fill the silence.

Will we?

The radio scratches, as if echoing Pixal’s anxiety. Love can be terrible, sometimes. She’s underestimated how it also be so cruel.

************

She’s also, apparently, underestimated how the universe on the whole could be so cruel.

She should’ve revealed herself to them from day one. That way, when Harumi’s corrupted programming suddenly ravages through her like an electric shock, she could be reassured they’d at least be familiar with the person they were fighting.

Instead, she doesn’t even get to scream. Pixal’s only able to force out a desperate, broken warning before she’s lost again, drowning in her own body as she’s forced under. Furious panic grips her as she screams without lungs, bashing herself against the overwhelming helplessness that’s taken over her.

Not again, not again, not again—

Her limbs creak and jolt against her will, lashing out at the people she cares most about, and Pixal can’t even rage back in her own voice. She’s sworn, she’s promised herself she’d never let anyone do this to her again — she’s sworn she’d die before she let someone reach into her head and snatch control away, and yet here she is, frozen as her body’s used to target her friends.

If she could cry, she might.

There’s not much more to say than that. She breaks free, her body her own once again, but by then it’s too late.

************

If Pixal had the same gift of foresight that Zane did, maybe she would have seen it coming. Maybe she’d have remembered how similar her and Lloyd are, and that this kind of pained desperation always yields impulsiveness and mistakes.

She doesn’t, though. She barely even manages to do what she’s trying to, which is convincing Lloyd to join the others while they celebrate their victory. Their off-key singing is something he normally wouldn’t hesitate to join in on, she thinks, and she hates Harumi a little more.

Maybe she’ll try his mother next. The expression on Lloyd’s face screams unapproachable, and remains fixedly sullen.

Almost to her surprise, he meets her eyes as she draws near— it’s odd, being able to meet his back — and his own eyes are dark, from despair over Harumi or despair over his father, Pixal isn’t sure. She’s thinking it might be both, when his eyebrows crease, and a flicker of concern cuts through them instead.

“You good?”

It takes her a moment to realize why he’s asking, but the answer is obvious. Her head tilts downward, and she watches as her fingers curl and uncurl. Her movements, her choices. She lets out an even breath.

“As I can be,” she replies. Lloyd nods, and his eyes are understanding. His lips twist in a scowl.

“She shouldn’t have done that to you. That was a low blow.”

Pixal’s mouth curves into a humorless smile. “That it was. She’s rather good at those, isn’t she.”

Lloyd’s eyes shadow again, and he looks away, crossing his arms. “This isn’t supposed to be about me,” he mutters.

“Yes, it is,” Pixal counters. “It is why I came over here, in the first place. She hurt—”

“All of us, and who’s fault is that,” Lloyd snaps, his arms crossing tighter.

“I would hope you know it’s hers,” she says, holding firm.

Lloyd looks away again, biting his lip, and Pixal shifts anxiously, rolling her wrists. The sensation of control sliding away still haunts her, worse than it had the first time. She should be better than this, she tells herself hotly. She’s lived without a body long enough that losing it so briefly shouldn’t effect her this much.

Curse her programming, she thinks, tapping agitatedly at the banister. She knew she should have reinforce it sooner.

“Hey, um.” Lloyd is looking at her again, hesitant. He twists at his bracelet, and his eyes lose a fraction of that darkness. “Kai made this for me, after Morro,” he says. “I kept shredding the sleeves of my uniform, so he told me to mess with this instead, when I needed to remember that…that I was in control.”

He shrugs, hesitant. “We could make you one too, if you wanted. It helps, having something.”

Pixal lets out a steady breath, despite not actually needing to. The action is grounding, she’s found. “I would like that.”

Lloyd gives her a ghost of a smile in return. “Soon as this is over, then.”

There’s a heavy weight to his words, and Pixal’s eyes narrow.

“Lloyd,” she says. He looks at her, his eyes dark. “Don’t do anything foolish.”

He’s quiet, not meeting her eyes, and this is where Pixal should stop him. This is when she should see the end of the road they’ve been on since they started this, and force him to turn before it’s too late.

“I know what I’m doing.”

She doesn’t.

************

Lloyd is battered and bleeding by the time they drag him onto the ship, a gruesome portrait of cruelty. Pixal is frozen as she watches him writhe in Kai’s hold, his screams cracked and wet as he thrashes erratically like a broken thing.

Nya is already barking orders before they’ve even gotten Lloyd fully on the ship, and Zane is running scans with a horrified, wavering focus. Pixal follows Cole as he carries Lloyd to the medbay with a blank numbness, the rush of wind streaming past the Bounty sails thunderously loud in her ears.

This isn’t Lloyd, she thinks, staring at his crumpled form. Lloyd isn’t this battered, broken shell of a person. Lloyd isn’t hazy eyes that fail to recognize them and frantic murmuring through bloody lips. Lloyd is bright-eyed and gentle and would rather die before he screams the way he does when Cole moves him to the table.

Lloyd is her friend, and this is where that promise they made has led them. She knows why Lloyd set out for the prison, hot on the collapse of his own star. She also knows he wouldn’t have chosen to burn out like this.

Cole calls out for Zane, his voice ringing in panic as Lloyd screeches in pain again. Pixal thinks of quiet words in the safety of his car, and she feels sick. This is the ugliness of love, the terrible, hideous side of it.

And Lloyd would hate it, if he could see himself, if he were any semblance of lucid. He’d hate to know just how much better he was at breaking himself than Morro ever was.

Zane is gentle as he pushes past her, but Pixal can feel the tremble in his hands. He’s every bit as rattled as she is, if not more so — Zane’s heart is larger and softer than hers has ever been, and he cares about each and every one of them with a painful intensity. It’s a cruel thing, to have to pull those same people back together with your own hands.

Kai’s eyes are streaming as he clutches at Lloyd’s wrists, pinning him in place. Zane’s hands waver again over one of the jagged wounds near Lloyd’s ribcage, the green of his uniform already dyed dark in blood, soaking over the careful stitches Pixal watched him put in himself.

Pixal finally finds her footing, reminding herself of the solid wood beneath her feet. She recalls the steady, smooth stitch Lloyd’s scarred fingers traced out for her.

“Here.” She takes the needle from Zane’s hands, squeezing his briefly before letting go. “I can do it.”

She sets the needle against Lloyd’s skin and wonders what kind of stitch it’d take to pull your heart back together.

************

Pixal cannot cry. It’s one of the features Mr. Borg spent hours debating, weighing the pros and cons of giving her the ability before he was truly sure how rust-proof she was. He’d never gotten the chance to, as the Overlord had interrupted him, then Pixal had lost any body to give the ability to cry to, which had eliminated the need entirely.

She cannot cry, but she can hurt, and the rain that streams through her hair, dripping down her forehead spotting raindrops on her cheeks, could be tears if she pretended.

She doesn’t, though, because tears are a waste of water and overall useless in the grand scheme of things. She doubts they’d have helped her fare any better in the battle with Colossi, either.

Tears won’t bring anyone back.

Lloyd cries anyways. She can’t see him, but she can hear it in his voice, the way it wavers and breaks over the radio, nasally tones pronounced.

He’s barely able to gasp a few coordinates to her before he cuts the radio off abruptly. Pixal’s spent enough time with him to envision his scarred fingers snapping it off with a particular desperation, green sparking from his hands in distress.

She reminds herself those sparks are gone, now, bled away into nothing like the vivid green of Lloyd’s eyes had. The thought makes her sadder than she’d expected. She had a joke, about his eyes, she had wanted to make. Now that she has a body, and her own set of glowing green eyes, she’d — there was something he would’ve laughed at, she thought —

It doesn’t matter, now. Neither of them are likely to laugh anytime soon.

The coordinates blink brightly in her vision, and she’s almost surprised she managed to key them in. She’s running on autopilot, she supposes. It could be ironic — she’s been so desperate for control, it’s been so important that she’s the one feeling. Now, she’d give anything not to feel at all.

She lets out a shaky breath, dispelling the mist in her vision left from the rain. She leans forward, just over the edge of the building she’s crouched on, and her loose hair falls forward, silvery and synthetic and horribly tangled. Irritated, she reaches for another hair tie, and her hands falter around her wrist.

Lloyd had promised her a bracelet there. But he’d promised Kai would make the bracelet, hadn’t he, and Kai couldn’t make the bracelet if he was dead, could he.

Pixal blinks, her breath hitching. She’s been so numb to the pain of Zane’s loss, it hasn’t yet occurred to her that she’s losing Kai, too. And Jay, and Cole, and—

She sucks in the same shuddery kind of breath she’s seen Lloyd do, and carefully fists her hand in the area of her uniform above her chest. Her fingers dig in tightly, clutching in a hopeless attempt to feel some sort of comfort she knows she’ll never find.

But perhaps, for these few seconds, she can pretend the action is holding her together.

************

“It was inevitable,” Pixal tells Lloyd blankly, as he rasps out his third apology in the dark cover of their small hideout. “That one of us would fall, eventually. It had nothing to do with you.”

Lloyd swallows thickly. “It could’ve — it should’ve been—”

He doesn’t finish, but he doesn’t need to. Pixal’s hand shoots out, clamping tightly around his wrist, and there’s a beat of gratitude that she doesn’t need to rely on her voice alone anymore.

“Don’t.” Her voice is strung tighter than the tension in their shoulders. “You cannot change anything. You can’t, Lloyd, and you should not wish to — to change it that way.”

Lloyd jerks his hand free, wiping miserably at his eyes. He sets it back down within her reach, though, and if Pixal were any different, she’d take it.

But Pixal isn’t that different from Lloyd at all in the end, and neither of them reach for the other’s hand, no matter how desperately they crave the contact. Fear is more familiar, and it’s easier to give into it than it is the clawing need for comfort in your chest, after all.

“Still,” Lloyd finally whispers. “Still.”

Pixal swallows. She doesn’t disagree. If one of them had to fall, she knows she gladly would have taken it upon herself. She knows the others care for her, certainly, but she also knows her place in the grand scheme of things. They were six before she came along, and even now she’s kept far too many secrets to be fully counted among them.

She listens to Lloyd’s quiet, cracked voice, and she wonders if he’s thinking that they were five before he came along, younger than Pixal got to know him as.

Now they’re three, hollow and heartbroken. Though counting herself as one whole feels like cheating, right now.

Pixal squeezes her eyes shut, and wonders what it’s like to cry. Perhaps it helps, though Lloyd doesn’t look any less miserable.

************

“I was thinking,” Lloyd tells her, during one of the precious few quiet moments they have while trying to overthrow Garmadon and Harumi. Pixal’s turning the tiny tea flower he’d given her over in her hands, a part of her mind already marking articles about flower-pressing, another part wondering if it’s already too late to save the blossom. “About that promise we made, before all this.”

Pixal finally tucks the flower into the pocket of her uniform, pressed close to her chest. If anything, it can be a reminder of the lives that are safe — the life that’s coming back to her, if she has to drag him back from another realm herself. “And?”

Lloyd’s hands twist together. “Maybe we should focus more on staying alive.”

Pixal coughs out a laugh, breathless and startled. Lloyd wrinkles his nose at her, but his eyes are amused, even with their light lost. “I mean, the emphasis would be on keeping everyone else alive, but it’s kinda hard to do that if we’re dead, so…yeah. Priorities.”

“Staying alive should always be a priority,” Pixal corrects him, but she tugs the edge of his armor out of place with a smile.

“Why didn’t you teach me how to graffiti?” she nods at the designs on the green leather. “Or was this another Darkley’s tradition.”

“This is a refined art, called whatever I had on me that showed up on dark green,” Lloyd grumbles, fixing his armor. “I’ll teach it to you when we get out of this.”

“Another reason why staying alive would be a more productive focus,” Pixal points out. “I’ve heard teaching is easier when you’re alive.”

“And I’ve heard you’re a real riot,” Lloyd mutters. “It’s a promise, okay? I promise to teach you how to do cool armor design if you promise not to disappear into another realm on me.”

Pixal nods, adjusting her own armor tighter as screams ring out from a street nearby. “A promise, then.”

She keeps both the promise and the flower, the tiny blossom dried and faded by the time she’s escaped from the prison, heart racing with leftover adrenaline as Zane sweeps her into his arms. She clutches back every bit as tight, listening to his breathless laughter as cheers rise from the streets behind them, the smoke drifting across the early morning sky above them pale against the lightening blue. Pixal buries her face in his shoulder and breathes, tucking the moment away in her heart where it won’t fade. There’s a future stretching out before her, and she’s got the limbs to walk her path on her own, but all she wants right now is the steady ground beneath her feet and the bright laughter of what she’s managed to keep.

Lloyd meets them shortly after, his own promise kept as he tears his gaze from his father, handing him off to the authorities before sprinting for the others. Pixal barely snags a moment alone with him, and even then no one’s particularly keen on letting him out of their sights.

He meets her eyes as they pick their way through the wrecked streets, the city more alive around them than it’s been in weeks. In the dark of the early morning, Pixal’s eyes glow a bright green, reflecting oddly in the windows they pass. It’s always been her preferred color, in contrast to Zane’s bright blue. Lloyd glances at her, his own eerily green eyes glowing back. He bites his lip, but it’s to hold back real laughter this time.

“My eyes were green first,” she tells him.

“Sue me,” he shoots back, before Kai’s throwing an arm over his shoulders again, tucking Lloyd neatly in between him and Nya. Pixal smothers a laugh at the look on his face, and tightens her own arm further where it’s linked firmly in Zane’s.

It’s going to be an easy promise to keep, she thinks.

#lego ninjago #ninjago #lloyd garmadon #ninjago lloyd #pixal #there was a point to this but it got lost in pix and lloyd do arts and crafts #either way i'd die for both these characters #ninjago where is the pixal love i miss her #my fic

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legionofpotatoes · 3 years

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I love your art, it is very detailed in a neat way. Was wondering how you got started making it as a source of income? How did you get your first paid work, I'd love some advice on how to get started, if that's ok

Thank you. Of course it's okay, although I doubt I have enough work experience in art to really delve into this. I only went full freelance this year, and had been juggling art as a side hobby until then. If you're still interested in my somewhat narrow perspective, and are okay with my long-winded rambles, I'll give it a shot:

So to answer your question fully, I'll describe how I started and move into personal advice and learnings later on. As a disclaimer, I am a white cishet dude in my late twenties with a moderate cocktail of mental illnesses, but overall I can pass for a functioning adult so a lot I have to say may come laced with privilege I cannot fully identify.

So uhh I began drawing in around 2012? I think? Maybe halfway through 2011? And I mostly made fanart for things I enjoyed and tried to branch out in communities that felt nourishing to my style and interests (I caught a bug for alt posters and enjoyed mainstream movies so I spent a long time on posterspy early on). There were a handful of opportunities that came from there but I could only accept a couple because of primary workplace commitments. Still, it showed that networking in a focused community was definitely a good place to start; I myself have huge trouble committing to social networks and really staying socially active, but I knew it was an essential ingredient in succeeding so I tried to make myself be involved in challenges and art support trains etc. as much as I could.

In parallel to all that I also ran a few third party online stores (redbubble, teepublic) for disposable income and would sometimes, if rarely, hit around $100-150 a month from those sources combined. It is a sort of thing that requires helper accounts on other social media sites to promote it on, because the stores themselves have a huge volume of content that translates into low organic discoverability. Obviously it was never gonna be the way towards financial independence through art, and with community projects being few and far between, I opened private commissions in around uhhh 2017 I think, focusing on offering a few styles I knew I could do well, and sometimes operating in individual fandoms (it was mostly a bioware thing to be frank). But I had to close them back down after a year or so, again because of work-life conflict and how badly it was burning me out. The reason I kept trying to monetize this hobby is because I honestly hated what I did for my main job and wanted to see a way out in some shape or form in the future.

And then in 2020 I had to quit my main job altogether because of *gestures at pandemic* and deal with a mental breakdown from all the wonderful things it did to us and me specifically. I took a short break and decided to give art a shot full-time, and that was around May this year. I was planning on opening up commissions again (and I still am), but a few sudden opportunities that fell in my lap moved that timetable down and now I'm grateful to even be doing something I am getting adequately paid for.

So, with that somewhat limited perspective, here's what I've learned that I'd tell myself if I was just starting out:

1. Being a fan of something can be a shortcut towards effective networking kickoffs. Which are important evidently. If you love something and enjoy making content for it, join communities, settle into a combination of social media websites that feel right for those interests + your body of work + your inner rhythm, and try to play to content discovery as much as your mental health allows you to. Like I said, I know that I myself am incredibly bad at self-motivating to talk to people, so I found that synergizing common interests into fanart - which I enjoyed making anyway - could be a way to give myself a gentle nudge forward and build those bridges leading to community activities, which then net experience and coverage. Sometimes even freelance projects from official avenues. Again; picking the right spaces for what you're after is key. Companies roam twitter, concept art recruiters scour artstation or linkedin etc, instagram can land you private commissions and collab opportunities, so on and so forth. Find your niche and try to kick up dust. However...

2. I do not believe that any social profile can replace a good portfolio. The thing that made an immediate difference to me this year was building a coherent, simple website with my best work front and center and a contact form on top. Every single opportunity I got came from that form (maybe via twitter or instagram initially, but always sealing the decision after going through the website), so I firmly believe that showcasing your skills and portfolio in a visually arresting and user-friendly way is a big priority. I had some reservations about tackling that task but fortunately I had help from a savvy life partner and we slapped it together via wordpress in less than a day. Twitter/whatever social media is prevalent in your target groups is definitely important to get the right eyes on your shit, yes, but those eyes will then look for a second stop where your work and rates are more clear and concise. Simplicity is key imo, I cannot overstate this. So make a cute, simple portfolio!

3. Your skills and rates will grow and change as you do. Let them. Over the years I built several lasting professional relationships from my obsession over mass effect and kept getting opportunities both from bioware and their partner companies, some small and some a bit bigger. A one-off job earlier this year opened an unexpected door to another much larger commitment, and then the work I did there brought some attention from small businesses looking for commercial commissions. These were all incredibly different projects in terms of scope and budget, and I've been tackling them all on a case-by-case basis and slowly coming into my own irt my needs, rates, and SOW thresholds. It is still a work in progress (and a LOT of literal work as well), and very much a thing I struggle with in publicly marketing, which is why I felt a tad underqualified to answer your question in the first place (obviously I did not let that stop me). But what it means for me now is that I am rapidly developing into whatever my "version" of a functioning freelance artist is, and when the conditions for that guy are met, I need to be able to confidently plant myself and operate from that space despite past precedents. Do not let anyone bully you into downpricing what you yourself perceive as legitimate products of personal growth and development. Speaking of which...

4. The shitty challenge of turning envy into inspiration, and paddling outside your comfort zones in full riot gear. it is hard, but realizing that being a miserable, self-hating artist in my early days got me nothing but more misery back was the first real step I took and what truly blew the hinges off. I was just not pleasant to be around, I would badmouth my work all the time, and it all somehow made sense in my broken mind because the validation I sought was purely external and the way I sought it was through eliciting sympathy via self-victimization (even when I made something objectively nice). It all led fucking nowhere. Except perhaps to my own narcissism that I one day managed to identify and start managing. So I started looking at things that made me seethe with envy and calmly deconstruct and figure out their inner workings instead, do studies, and find nuggets of inspiration or discover new ways to approach rendering or building up specific elements. It was an application of analytical diligence to what I wanted to be a purely emotional, esoteric workflow, but that I deep down knew wasn't. Art is a discipline and a skill, and maybe it isn't a straight line, but you gotta find some line to thread nevertheless. Being self-hating was almost an identity I had to break out of, and despite it still being like, 4-5% there? I realize its cause and effect on me, my work, and those around me, so it is with a conscious choice that I gently set it aside when I work and especially when I learn. It won't always stay quiet, but the effort is the difference. Your doors towards accepting true growth and venturing into uncharted territories, art styles, and networking will really open from there. But there's a huge caveat...

5. Toolsets, accessibility, privilege, and all the good things that enable artistic expression and profitability are not given equal to all. you might do all the mental work I mentioned to be ready to rock and roll and learn and draw your way out of anything, but digital art is a fucking money pit that asks almost too much at times. I don't got a good case study here but identifying and ensuring accessibility to the tools you need to do your best work is, like, super important. The ergonomics can improve as you make money and settle into the job, but the basics have to be made available to you. And some of that might not even be under your direct control. That can be anything from pen tablets to software subscriptions to opportunities in hiring sullied by sexism or what have you. You gotta navigate all that through careful networking and money/time management. I don't do a good job of devoting specific slices of time to work/study, and my primary clutch is iPad software which went from a good deal to a nightmare scenario over the years. So all I can say here is do what I didn't; network, invest in a PC/tablet, and pick a software you'll learn that won't burn a hole in your pocket.

6. Be nice to work with? This one is hard to articulate and has landed my own ass in hot water in my early years because of how socially inept I am, but nothing is more worthwhile than being.. like. a good person to work with. That can be anything like meeting deadlines, or sometimes missing them but eloquently articulating why, being generous in early stages, being communicable and not too wordy in your emails, having a good grasp on abstract artistic concepts and how to describe them in simple terms, having a clear, laid out framework of your working rates in commercial and non-commercial projects and sticking to those guns with grace, understanding when you need to say no and saying it well, the works. Just being nice. Sometimes that might mean going headstrong with something you believe in, or simmering down and sucking up to the big man, all relative and adaptive. Part and parcel of the service provision dance that we all have to do in order to make bank. Know your lines here, obviously, and don't like. work for nazis. or uh.. *shudders* exposure. but be nice and empathetic and communicable and word will travel eventually. Skill may be in abundance these days, but good people are most certainly not, and capitalism has a way of bubbling up scarcity. Grim, but uh, them's the breaks.

I know I'm ultimately telling you to like. Have a body of work, make a portfolio, grow, and network. But that's really how I see it for now. And being nice can be a cherry on top that sets you apart, along with the inherent irreplaceable voice of your artwork. I think I rambled on enough, but if there is something specific you need my help with, even if you want to come off anon and talk in private, please feel free.

#anon #asks #long post #sorry I cant actually condense ideas better :(

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jennydreadfulofficial · 3 years

Text

SO… I’ve been thinking about this post for quite some time and… I think I’m finally ready to make it.

This may not be a popular decision, but it’s one I feel is right for me… and, in fact, is probably long overdue: I am retiring from porn.

For realsies. And completely. In addition to not posting anything new, I’ll be removing any photos/videos of an explicit nature from wherever I have them. (I haven’t done it just yet, but I will soon.) Yes, this includes nudity. I know that I may never be able to erase those things from the internet completely, but I can control what I post myself.

Does this mean I am leaving the internet? Definitely not. I am hopelessly addicted. :-p And, that even includes posting (and keeping up past) “sexy” selfies, which I still get the urge to create here and there. (Like this last little set of photos.) That’s something I’m hopelessly addicted to, as well. :-p

I may even post the occasional, albeit censored, photo from my past for illustrative storytelling purposes. :-p In fact, I can’t even guarantee that I wouldn’t do something with my old content in the future. I have no plans for it, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my time, it’s to never say never.

For all intents and purposes now, though, I just feel like I need to draw a clear boundary between the past and the present/future. It hasn’t been an easy decision to make and I know I’ve sorta announced my retirement more than once. Just call me the Michael Jordan of porn. :-p

I have spent so much time with one foot in and one foot out of it, because it had become such a part of me… how could I ever just give it up, completely? Plus, what if I get in a financial bind in the future? Begging for money from, and offering more porn to my fans has always been my fallback.

Well, I finally realized that I need to be brave and burn it all down if I ever wanted something new to grow from the ashes.

That something new is the book (about my past) that I’ve been planning to write for SO long. It just finally became clear to me that I was never going to be able to start on that until I had an ending.

Plus, I need to get rid of the ever-present guilt of not updating for my “paying customers” as much as I should. :-p It’s always in the back of my mind: I should really get on there (wherever there is… lately it’s been Patreon) and post something. But then five million other things come up and whoops, it’s been several months since I posted anything again. It might be different if I could make a full-time living with this, like in the old days… but I can not. Not anymore.

And finally, on the off-chance, the book I write becomes popular/successful? Do I want it to be perceived as a way of advertising the porn I’m still selling? I do not.

Again, I just feel like this is the right decision for me, at this time in my life.

So, what am I gonna do from here on out? Again, there’s the book. I’m leaving my Patreon profiles up, but I do fully expect to lose patrons, especially once I take down the “good stuff.”

From here on out, my JenPM Patreon will continue to act as another one of my social profiles, with the usual selfies and stuff like that. :-p The extra part will come in the form of a place where I share all the behind-the-scenes, sneak-preview type stuff involved in creating the book. I’ll certainly continue to try and find stuff to share with patrons-only and you’ll be able to kind of watch me write this in real-time…. maybe even add feedback/input. :) I’ll probably go back and edit it a million times before I’m done. :-p But, yeah… if that’s something you’re interested in, please do feel free to stick around! And even if you don’t become/stay a patron, please do continue following my JenPM profiles on Tumblr, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, etc. I still fully intend on posting to those like I have been…

The Jenny Dreadful profiles/Patreon? One of the other things I’ve wanted to do is separate the JenPM and JennyDreadful personas. I even sorta “killed off” Jenny Dreadful for a bit… but then because I had so many people still following me there, I kind of started posting the same content to both sets of socials and all, to try and make sure I reach everyone. But, this is another case where I gotta just try to burn down the old to have the new bloom as it should.

I’m not gonna kill off Jenny Dreadful again. To be honest, I’m not exactly sure what I’ll be doing with her in the future, but I’m stil attached to her at the same time. :-p I’ve tossed around a lot of ideas, including turning her into kind of a comic book-type character. :-p I still feel like I want to do something with Ms. Dreadful! Just still working out where exactly I want to take her. :)

But yeah, definitely make sure you’re following me as “JenPM” because that’s where I’ll be doing all my actual posting, in the future. (And certainly, I’ll announce there if I come up with something for Jenny Dreadful.)

OK, I guess that’s it for now. Just… a huge thank you to all of you who have been following me for SO long…. it’s truly unbelievable to me, to this day. :) But I love it! Whether I’ve expressed it like I should or not, please know that I have always appreciated SO much, everything all of you have ever given me. It’s meant so much…. more than I can say… and obviously I can say a lot. :-p

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choccos-aaart · 3 years

Text

Close enough to 10 mintues of “Ms Axel is a Goon”

Screw it. I'm posting it here, too. *NOTE: This is 100% fictitious and not going to happen*

Final Assignment Script Writing, Winter School 2021 ONE-PAGE PITCH

TITLE: Ms Axel is a Goon

GENRE: Action, comedy, sci-fi, family

LOGLINE: In the humid city of Dasmus, Mei Axel is a former goon who's just escaped captivity. Since her escape, she's been trying to better her life with her new found passion for music, but she quickly learns that the entire country wants to trade her name and face for a price.

FORMAT: Full-length animated film

MAJOR AND RECURRING CHARACTERS: Mei Axel – A wanted fugitive. Mid 20s. Despite her physical competence, she's mostly a foolish, plucky girl who steals a guitar one day.

Alicia Vonarb – CEO of a liquor company. Late 30s. The last boss to hire Axel to do her sneaky business work. Confident and vain, but does everything in spite of her mother. Wants to capture Axel because she doesn't want to get ratted out.

Kannie Orma – An old gadgeteer friend of Axel’s. Mid 50s. Also a “lame uncle” sort of figure to Axel. Their friendship must remain secret because his work is also involved with Vonarb.

O. Miho - Axel’s former coworker from when she was working for Vonarb. Early 30s. His current assignment is to capture Axel. Smug and thinks he's funny.

K. Claymont – Axel’s other former coworker. Late 20s. Works together with Miho. A kind man, but only most of the time.

SYNOPSIS: Mei Axel. She's a goon that's been caught and jailed. Eventually enough, she makes a successful escape and ventures outside. Not much happens afterwards other than stealing a guitar, and once discovering that she's got a passion for music, now she aims to live up that dream. But while attempting to live her new life, her face still reads as an incompetent menace to her former friends and foes, as well as to the majority of the country – they all seem to want to trade in her face for a cash reward. Now, aside from escaping the hands of everyone that wants to hand her over to the government, it is now up to Ms Axel to figure out how she is going to be able to pursue her new life goal that heavily conflicts with her current place among her people. This first follows the story of a wanted fugitive who sets off on a quest for redemption which, unfortunately, never works out. The story ends when Axel eventually escapes the country. She finally acknowledges that she can never truly change the way she's perceived, as well as never fully experience the life that she wants. However, she still performs under a low profile, happily living a drifter's lifestyle.

RATIONALE: This is a story about someone whose wrongdoings and nurture had shaped the way that others view them. Our protagonist is Mei Axel who had been built up to become a significantly infamous member of society, but once discovering a part of herself that showed her potential in a more respected position, being a musician, she starts wanting to better herself. A problem with this scenario is that her past actions prevent her from fully achieving that dream. She can relate to audiences who want to change aspects of their past, particularly their mistakes or the wrong ways they've been brought up, but can't.

MARKET: Children ranging from 11-16, particularly those that are interested in scenes that involve action-packed chases and fighting between individuals. The [film] will present itself through retro-futuristic aesthetics in its city setting. Rock is also a prevalent music genre for the soundtrack, which may interest audiences who particularly like the genre.

The Script

EXT. BUILDINGTOP – NIGHT

Axel checks out the guitar from every angle with a grin, having a feel of its neck, strings and body. She sits it on her lap as if to play it.

AXEL

Oh... I hope those lessons never went to waste...

She wobbly plays a C major scale while slightly wincing through every second. She runs over the same scale again, but this time it flows a bit more smoothly. She smiles a little.

MONTAGE OF AXEL PRACTISING GUITAR

- Axel goes over the same scale a couple of times and with every run, her playing gets smoother.

- She then moves on to a different key and practises that scale

- She then moves on to another key and practises that scale

- She plays some chords now, beginning with the I IV V I progression

MONTAGE END

Axel continues strumming. A light turns on from a nearby building.

DWELLER

Who is playing that garbage?!

Axel stops strumming. Silence.

AXEL

(Breathes in)

I'll get the hang of it.

She slings the guitar over her back and runs into the shadows. Eventually, she disappears into the dark.

EXT. MARKETPLACE – DAY

A view of a cranny on a roof between two walls. Axel sleeps there resting her guitar on her lap. Waking up, she yawns and then lazily sits up.

CUT TO:

A view of the market grounds. Axel smugly and excitedly, yet discreetly scurries out of an alley between a bakery and a liquor store, with a paper doughnut bag in one hand and a small bottle of liquor in the other.

She sits by a cafe playing some instrumental reggae rock music through a speaker. Axel hums along to the melody of the soundtrack while tipsily bouncing her finger to the beat. She then quickly strums a few chords for a brief moment, all which clash with the song's key signature, until right on the chorus, where she strums a chord that matches the root note of the song.

AXEL

Ooh, it's a G song. God, why do they always gotta be G songs? (Giggles)

She strums along with the music, landing every chord. Her smile grows and she gradually plays more confidently. She whistles the melody, then proceeds to hum. A TEENAGE BOY chucks a coin in front of her. Axel looks up and grins. She finger guns at him as he skids away to his friends, laughing. Axel stands up and plays more purposefully. The background starts dimming down.

DAYDREAM

Soon the marketplace around her blends into a stage. An abstractly drawn audience watches her perform and cheer her on. The chorus section of the song finishes.

AXEL

(Laughs)

I'm going to be known! I'll make myself the talk of the town! Everybody's gonna love me!

Axel starts strumming along to the background music again. Suddenly, a MAN with a large, muscular build grabs onto her shoulder.

END DAYDREAM

The stage fades back into the marketplace. Axel is still strumming.

MAN

You got that last part wrong.

AXEL

And who are you?

The man bats Axel with a club.

OVER BLACK.

SFX: Walking footsteps.

EXT. DESOLATE CITY AREA – DAY

In an alleyway, the man carries a bag containing Axel's body, also with Axel's guitar strapped around his back. After some time, Axel can be seen moving inside of the bag.

MAN

Huh? Hey. You keep still down there, would you?

Axel still moves inside of the bag.

MAN (CONT'D)

Look, this is goin'a be a long walk. That means you better cooperate with me, you hear that, Girlie? (Pause) You don't want to make me hurt you, now--

Axel falls out of a hole the bag with a shank in one hand and one of her boots on the other.

MAN

What the?!

The man looks behind himself while Axel stands up in front of him, holding her boot in both hands. She sends a finishing blow at the back of man's head and he falls to the floor. Axel cautiously looks at the man for a brief moment.

The man lies motionlessly on the ground. Axel drops her boot and fixes her shank back inside her pocket, then dusts off her hands before then squatting down next to him.

AXEL

Gosh, they really never hired me for nothing, huh... But I ain't into that stuff anymore. Say, can I have my guitar back?

The man does not respond. Axel lifts one of the man's eyelids and learns that he's out cold. Axel sighs with a slight chuckle. She lifts up the man and, with a struggle, unstraps the guitar from his body, before eventually slinging it over her own. Once fitting her boot back on, she then stands up and slowly walks over to the edge of the alley, whistling a chipper tune – the same melody she was playing earlier - on her way there. At the edge of the alleyway, her eyes look up. Then they widen.

INSERT – ELECTRONIC POSTER

containing Axel's mugshot and in large writing, "WANTED". Below is a list of details including Axel's height, approximate age, gender, race and the time and location of where she was last seen, “18:50, Southwest of Dasmus City”. There is also a cash prize.

INSERT – ELECTRONIC POSTER

containing the same contents as the previous poster, except the location which reads, “Southern markets of Dasmus City at 15:47, drunkenly playing a red Phenver brand guitar”.

A view of Axel between the alley's walls. All around are copies of the same two posters, both in electronic and printed forms. A mildly shocked expression crosses her face.

INT. TOILETS – DAY

A view of a row of toilet stalls. None of the stalls' doors are closed, except for the one in the centre. Axel's guitar leans on a nearby wall. Her feet can be seen in the gap between the bottom of the door and the floor. Axel kicks the wall.

AXEL

Damn it! I'm such an idiot! What was I thinking?! Me? A musician? That's just one way to draw attention!

VONARB (O.S)

Axel? Is that you?

AXEL (CONT'D)

I can't b-- (Pause) Ms Vonarb?

Axel immediately opens her stall's door and looks in the direction of ALICIA VONARB'S voice. Vonarb walks towards Axel.

VONARB

And to think I'd meet you here of all places?

AXEL

I never expected to see you here, either.

VONARB

Well, isn't this quite the reunion?

AXEL

Eh. Not really.

VONARB

I'm surprised you got clever enough to get yourself out of prison.

Axel exits her stall.

AXEL

So, is that to say you're impressed with me?

VONARB

Nope. How'd you think I found you here so easily?

AXEL

Easily? That was easy?

VONARB

Anyway... Don't think I came trying to find you for no reason, now.

AXEL

Oh yeah! Coincidentally, I'm a bit short on cash. You don't happen to want to hire me again, don't you?

VONARB

(Laughs)

What? After getting yourself thrown in jail?

AXEL

Oh... (Pause) What are you even here for, anyway?

VONARB

Well. First of all... (Clears throat) Whatever you do, please don't take this the wrong way.

AXEL

Huh?

Silence. The two stare at each other. Axel tilts her head in confusion. Eventually, O MIHO and K CLAYMONT enter the room. Miho holds a taser while Claymont holds a bag.

CLAYMONT

Now, I don't mean to spread any panic or alarm--

AXEL

(Gasps)

You gotta be kidding me!

VONARB

I just said to not take it the wrong way--

AXEL

I knew it! You are as easy to see through as a window! It's 'cause of my “WANTED” sign, isn't it, Vonarb?

VONARB

Wrong!

AXEL

Huh?

VONARB

You see, we're here to keep you away from those authorities. And knowing you, you're probably so incompetent that you'd just wind up stuck in prison again! So, since you're with us, you're going nowhere.

AXEL

What? Why?

VONARB

You're pretty infamous now. And I've got my business to worry about, too. So, if it didn't all add up in that brain of yours, let's just say, I don't want to risk you ratting me out.

AXEL

Yeah, I'm not doing that!

Grabbing her guitar, Axel jumps on the sinks and runs along them. Miho runs to tase her. Axel whacks him with her guitar and then heads right out the door. Claymont follows.

CLAYMONT (O.S)

I got it!

EXT. CITY STREETS – DAY

A view of the front of a pub. There is people scattered everywhere. Suddenly, the door swings right open and Axel sprints outside with her guitar now strapped over her back. She continues along the street. Claymont chases right after.

#OC #Chocco's writing #Characters I may never use again #Chocco's scripts #Uni stuff

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marshmallowprotection · 4 years

Note

Well now I gotta know how Yoosung will feel about finding MC’s sketchbook is full of drawings of him

Yoosung spends a lot of time listening to you talk and there’s nothing more that he loves than being able to talk to you. When he’s with you, it feels like he can be himself and he doesn’t have to worry about anything else. He’s never had that kind of feeling before and you’ve inspired him to chase his dreams and learn to move on, never forget, but move on from his pain.

You mean the world to him by the night that you actually meet him. You can see that look on his face and melt. He does the same. It just felt like it was meant to be.

Yoosung knows that you’re an artist. You let it slip to him a couple of times when you were working late at night and he was gaming.

The two of you were doing a lot of your own thing but it was nice to have the background noise of the other’s voice or ramblings there to talk to so it didn’t feel quite as lonely as it was. He’d know that you mumbled a lot to yourself when you were working and he’d said that it was cute, and you’d sputtered, trying to hide how that made you knew but he kind of had a feeling.

For once, it was now to flip the table on someone and be the one that was making someone else feel flustered since everyone else often picked on him since he was an easy target. He knew that he was but it was nice to know that he could do things like this when he had a drop of courage.

He wouldn’t let anyone else know that. God knows he didn’t need Saeyoung going to bother him about this sort of thing, too. Either way, once he was able to start seeing you more often, he noticed that you were prone to leaving your things at his place, he wasn’t sure if it was on purpose or accident, most of the time it was a sweater or a jacket.

He wouldn’t tell you that he liked having those around. That was a little too much for Yoosung at this point in the relationship. You had left in a hurry today, being a bit too late for your next errand of the day. You left behind your notebook and a phone in your haste, but he knew that you would come back to pick them up later when you finished and realized your mistake.

It was alright, he would set them out of the way so he could grab what you left, as he was picking your things up, the book was still open, but facing down on the table, he couldn’t help but to flip it over and see what was on the page. He stopped, realizing that you had been drawing him from a side-profile this entire time.

Nearly dropping your sketchbook, Yoosung couldn’t help but let out a little squeal. Curiosity might kill him, but he wanted to see if there was more in your notebook. He finds a lot more drawings, and he finds a lot of notes that you had added about his mannerisms and appearance. You had been writing down all sorts of things about him alongside your drawings and—

Yoosung had to stop before he invaded your privacy any more than he already had that day. But, there was a smile on his lips now, and his face felt hot. You’d be spending a lot of your time drawing him of all people. He was sure that you’d have all kinds of interests to draw but...

Him?

Really?

He wouldn’t tease you about it but now he wanted to look at you when you were drawing and see if he could see what you were seeing when you looked at him like this. Everything that you had drawn had shown him how passionate you were about him and how determined each and every drawing became better and better with each turn of the page.

Perhaps, you’d humor him and let him watch, or even ask you to draw something for him instead of hiding this away. Because even though he felt a bit faint, he found himself falling in love with you more.

#yoosung kim #yoosung #kim yoosung #yoosung mystic messenger #yoosung mysme #yousung mm #mm #mysme #mysticmessenger #mystic messenger #ask #mod kait #makialene

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nonpuppet-sanderssides-ep · 4 years

Text

Learning New Things about Ourselves Transcript

This transcript was done by @rosesisupposes @everphantom @crushingonanartist @fandomsofrandom (who’s urls may or may not have changed at some point, and others, who’s urls had been lost to time and my disorganization.)

This transcript was created for the purpose of creating a comic-version of the video for those who were uncomfortable with the puppetry. This project has been effectively abandoned, and the blog shall be treated as an archive for the work that had been completed. (as explained in this post)

The transcript had been partly split up to create places for artists to draw individual sections, which has remained in tact in this transcript. If people want to utilize this transcript for creating a comic or drawing, I entirely welcome it! As long as all the characters follow a human design, tag this blog and I’ll reblog it.

14:58 Thomas: Oh, Logan! You’re up!

14:59 Logan: If by up you mean I am not down...to do this, you are correct.

15:04 Roman: Oh big surprise coming from no fun-son honey dew-dew. Last second addition there, made it, stuck the landing.

15:10 Patton: Aw, Logan come on! We need you at the table if we’re gonna be learning!

15:14 Logan: Please. It has become quite clear that me cosigning all of your ridiculous antics is just a formality. When all of you decided on using puppets to address a serious issue, logic was already figuratively thrown out the window.

15:25 Roman: *dramatic sigh* Again, you don’t have to use the word figuratively. We know you that you weren’t literally thrown out of a window.

15:31 Logan: How? Have you been watching me constantly?

15:33 Patton: Don’t assume Roman! You know what happens when you assume. You make an as out of su and me.

15:39 Logan: *exasperated sigh* *mumbled* Thank you Patton. *back to normal volume* I just don’t want to concern anybody by suggesting I was throw through a window. I wanted to communicate five by five that I’m five by five.

15:47 Thomas: It’s okay Roman, his intentions are there. I mean, who does going above and beyond with clarity hurt?

15:54 Roman: Going above and beyond? *laugh* More like going overboard. It’s stupid.

15:58 *Logan inhales, glares at Roman as he crumples up a paper and throws it at Roman with a yell*

16:01 Roman: Ow! Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh!

16:02 Patton: Meep meep!**

16:03 Roman: You hit me in the eye. You hit me in the eye, you freaking bookgerm!

16:07 Virgil: Geez, L, that was pretty rough.

16:09 Logan: Eh- I’m sorry. I-I don’t know what that was. *pause* Maybe I should go.

16:13 Patton: NO! We are not about to leave it there, mister! We can’t continue this convo, if you’re gone-zo

16:21 Thomas: THAT’S RIGHT!

16:21 Thomas: Look, Logan, you can be like one of those Sesame Street human friends!

16:27 Logan: Like Maria?

16:28 Thomas: Like Maria!

16:29 Logan: Okay... I mean, a more accurate comparison would be that you’re our Big Bird, and we’re all your… Snuffleupagus**.

16:36 Thomas: Pre-1985, before they canonically confirmed Snuffleupagus wasn’t imaginary.

16:40 Logan: Of course. *softly* Clarity

16:41 Roman: Hmph-

16:42 Logan: Okay, so- you’re puppets. Care to explain to me how this is going to help?

16:47 Patton: Well, we could start by having an open and honest conversation about our feelings?

16:54 Thomas: *takes a deep breath*

16:55 Roman: Hmmm…

16:56 Virgil: *groans softly*

16:57 Thomas: I don’t think so.

16:57 Roman: Yeah, I don’t like that.

16:58 Virgil: I’d rather go live in a garbage can.

16:59 Patton: No! Really, this is important, guys! Thomas, you have to face your feelings head-on! Tell me… *singing* do you ever feel like a paper bag?

17:10 Thomas: Wha- I thought we were talking about a loop!

17:13 Patton: Well, how do you suppose we get out of the loop, mister Looper?

17:16 Thomas: Well, I guess I don’t know… but I mean... like- what do I have to feel bad about? I mean, really. Like- yeah, I feel iffy with my videos. So what?

17:27 *Roman sighs as Thomas continues*

17:27 Thomas: Big deal. The ‘problems’ I have wouldn’t even exist without all of the incredible privileges I’ve received. I should feel lucky. I asked for this. So I- I don’t feel like I’ve got a right to feel this way, but-

17:42 Patton: Thomas, that’s ridiculous! Now should you count your blessings? Absolutely! Lots of people are way worse off!

17:49 Thomas: … oh

17:50 Patton: Yeah, I should not have said that as cheery as I did. --break-- *louder* But… you shouldn’t feel guilty for having feelings! Sure, sometimes your feelings may not make sense, but it’s not your feelings job to make sense! You just… experience them. And you have to do your best to deal with them.

18:07 Thomas: Well that… makes sense.

18:11 Patton: Not talking about them... is not dealing with them.

18:14 Thomas: Yeah, but I don’t even know where to begin talking about my feelings, because I don’t… understand them right now.

18:19 Virgil: Maybe you won’t have to understand your feelings if you fix the problem.

18:24 Patton: Well…

18:25 Virgil: Logan’s gotta cool it with the deadlines.

18:26 Logan: What?

18:27 Roman: *blows a kiss at Virgil* Thank you!

18:28 Virgil: Too much pressure.

18:29 Logan: Oh, I’m sorry. Except I’m not! Are the deadlines really the cause of that pressure, or is it… I don’t know… *quickly* Roman’s inability to perform adequately?

18:35 Roman: *offended gasp* No!

18:37 Virgil: Well- it’s a little of that.

18:38 Roman: *weird shocked noise[?]* What??

18:40 Logan: Exactly, boom.

18:40 Virgil: Look dude, doesn’t it make sense to think you have something to do with this? The issue has to do with creating content and his pride? That’s a lot of you.

18:48 Roman: Well pardon me, Vomit-y Central, but when were either of you the experts on creative content? Who are you to criticize my work??

18:58 Virgil: Oh my gosh, what is up your butt?

19:00 Roman: An arm!

19:00-19:34

THOMAS: Okay, I think it’s clear that pointing fingers is getting us nowhere. So let’s avoid that

PATTON: [Pointing at Thomas] Agreed. Oh, butterfingers!

VIRGIL: [Muttering] That’s not what butterfingers means

THOMAS: Logan, would it be fair to say that with all of this arguing, order is not actually being obtained?

LOGAN: Perhaps we are in a state of disorder because no one is adhering to my instruction

THOMAS: Okay, okay, well, okay, I’m - I’m happy to hear you out, then. What do you think we should do, Logan?

PATTON: Yeah, Logan, help us out, what can you tell us about learning new things about ourselves?

19:34-19:58

LOGAN: Well, it all goes back to the point you made earlier, Patton. Asking the right question: why?

ROMAN: That’s right, today’s video is brought to you by the letter “Y”

LOGAN: No, stop it, stop it, the question “why,” W-H-Y. “Why?” So much of what you feel, Thomas, comes down to whether or not your actions are aligning with your goals.

PATTON: Oh! I think I get it!

LOGAN: What?

PATTON: Yeah!

19:58 - 20:12 [Cut Scene]

[Electric Company Bit: Profiles of Patton and Thomas]

PATTON: Why do you make videos?

THOMAS: Because they’re fun

PATTON: Why did you make it a job?

THOMAS: So I could support myself, and so I could try bigger things

PATTON: Why did your old friend’s question stick with you?

THOMAS: Because…

[End cut scene]

20:12-20:42

THOMAS: Because I always wonder if I’m doing the right thing for a living

LOGAN: Okay, interesting! Elaborate on that. And nobody do any puppet bits

PATTON: Well, that was from The Electric Company

LOGAN: [Waving arms at Patton] Shhhhhh. Thomas?

THOMAS: I don’t know, I guess… As far as I know, we have one life, and I guess I have doubts about… whether or not I’m making the most of mine.

LOGAN: Okay! We’re getting somewhere. Expand upon those doubts

THOMAS: Oh man, um, I… I don’t even know where to go from there

20:42-21:02

LOGAN: I mean if you asked me, I could certainly list off several factors that could be contributing to your doubts.

[Cut to Thomas, then Patton, then Roman all silently looking around as well. No one responds]

LOGAN: If you asked me, I could… gladly share them

THOMAS: [Sigh]

ROMAN: Welp

VIRGIL: [Sigh]

LOGAN: Just lemme know if you want to hear what I have to say

21:02-21:45 epilepsy warning

VIRGIL: Hey Logan, can you list off some of those factors you mentioned?

LOGAN: I’m glad you asked, Virgil. Firstly, there’s no job security, I mean, people fall out of public favor very quickly

VIRGIL: One! One cause of unease, ah ah ah [lightning flash]

LOGAN: You’re balancing a great deal of responsibilities. People have limits; perhaps you can’t continue at this pace indefinitely

VIRGIL: Two! Two nervous thoughts, ah ah ah [lightning flash]

LOGAN: Your work is inessential. Several may claim that they have been [air quotes] “inspired” by one thing you’ve said or another, but who’s to say they couldn’t have found the inspiration they needed elsewhere?

VIRGIL: Three. Three depressing speculations, ah ah ah [lightning flash]

LOGAN: And oh, oh! I can think of another one. No one takes you seriously!

PATTON: [Audible gasp]

VIRGIL: Four. Four uncomfortable characters in this room right now.

THOMAS: Logan, is that really what you think?

LOGAN: Thomas, I have held back my opinions for too long, and that’s obviously not benefiting you. I refuse to withhold my perspective any longer. You need to get a real job.

ROMAN: Hey, yeah! Like being a movie star!

LOGAN: No! A real job.

VIRGIL: Sheesh, you sloppily eat some jam, accidentally make a few puns and now you’re all sensitive about not being taken seriously?

LOGAN: [Interrupting] I’m not a joke! I mean, I can’t be thought of as such. Because there will be times in which I must be heeded and given our current circumstances, I clearly haven’t been. So I’m saying what must be said. I can’t tolerate this foolishness any longer. [To Thomas] You need to change your life around.

VIRGIL: Logan, I appreciate what you bring to the table and all, but the thing you just recommended would be a massive change in Thomas’ life sooo I kinda hate you a little bit right now andddd shut your dirty mouth

LOGAN: Ah, typical

THOMAS: I don’t know, Virge, maybe he’s right. Maybe that’s the cause of all this

VIRGIL: Thomas, don’t start. I have plenty of hate to go around

PATTON: Ohhh very funny, Virgil, you cute little muppet! Thomas, you know he doesn’t mean it. And Logan, that was… helpful! When the chips were down, you brought up some very meaty points, you ol’ crackerjack, but this stuff is more than just silly or cheesy, and I’m sorry I keep bringing up food, it’s just the inside of this bag smells like first grade lunch in the cafeteria and so many memories!

ROMAN: [Snaps] Patton, stay with us

23:17

PATTON: Sorry! Boy, I really milked that bit, wakawaka!

ROMAN: (stares in silence, before taking a deep breath) What I think Patton is trying to say is that Logan’s just proven that he’s the worst, and that he’s been the thorn in your side all along

VIRGIL: Could you even contribute like an ounce of constructive input to our conversation today, Dr. Doo-the-Most?

ROMAN: Okay, why don’t you just go get lost in a dryer

VIRGIL: You know, Roman, it’s just too bad your brain isn’t as big as that chin

ROMAN: Well you smell like FOOT!

THOMAS: Roman-

ROMAN: No, Thomas, I know. That wasn’t helpful. In truth, I do feel bad

THOMAS: You do?

ROMAN: Yes

VIRGIL: Well then maybe you should say you’re sorry

ROMAN: You’re right

VIRGIL: Oh, really?

ROMAN: Logan-

VIRGIL: Okay

ROMAN: -earlier, I made you angry. I do that quite a bit, actually. I provoke you, and you retaliated with violence… like a stupid caveman. But! I am responsible for my actions and my actions alone. So, I’m sorry.

LOGAN: Oh, well. That’s. Very kind.

ROMAN: Okay, well, I gave that a shot. I still feel bad.

PATTON: Well, why not try expressing your feelings in a way that makes sense for you?

24:27

ROMAN: Well, that might work. Let’s see (clears throat, then gestures to his right) Maestro?

[MUSIC STARTS]

[Singing] So you’ve gone and called someone stupid And in response, they damaged your eye But, there is where the conflict must end Lest you both end up blind

LOGAN: [Speaking] Another song? Really?

ROMAN: [Singing] Sometimes, the problems at play Are not all plain to see So, we lash out at our loved ones Disregarding our bond sanctity PATTON: There are several sides to us that may seem abstract at first Until we discover where everything fits And, people can be like a half-missing puzzle set As we find the pieces, things make more and more sense THOMAS: Nice imagery, but I'm not sure I follow.

25:27 - 26:00

PATTON: Well I’ll give you an example.

PATTON: [Singing] I had this problem where I’d often hide my less than awesome feelings so when I would feel like sobbing I’d just smile and crack jokes! I thought that that was coping. Only joking, never showing sadness, hoping it would go away.

LOGAN: [Spoken] Did that work?

PATTON: [Singing] Nope! I still felt bad

ROMAN: [Spoken] Aw pat..

PATTON: [Singing] It’s okay

THOMAS: [Spoken] How’s that?

PATTON: [Singing] Everybody gets sad. Even dads that have people to care for! And therefore- You don’t have to hide your pain. Life without rainy days is incomplete!

PATTON: [Speaking] Or, like not even a thing, you know? Rain goes to plants, plants feed animals, plant-eating animals feed animal-eating animals, and humans feed animals corn and inject them with hormones until they can barely walk anymore

THOMAS: Patton?

PATTON: Yes?

THOMAS: How does all that relate to rain?

PATTON: Oh, right! Rainy days. Forgot what I was talking about. Umm... putting it simply, rain is a necessary piece of the puzzle that is, uh, life.

LOGAN: So true. Are we done singing, or is this just one of those musical interludes?

26:22

VIRGIL: On the subject of storm clouds because, you know, you need storm clouds to... make... rain. I'm just gonna get into it. [Singing] You once knew me as real gloomy This weird spooky broody dude Because I knew you'd listen to me As too scary to ignore I thought that I could take it All the hate could just be shaken But when you lo-- care for someone Not much hurts more than their scorn I also felt bad

ROMAN: [Speaking] Come, now

VIRGIL: [Singing] In a different way

THOMAS: [Speaking] Different how?

VIRGIL: [Singing] By bad I mean, well, mean But I did what I thought that I had to Which is bad, too I don't have to act all tough

THOMAS: Sometimes love is enough

PATTON: Or what we need

27:00 [END]

#non-puppet ep project #learning new things about ourselves #transcript #sanders sides

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purplesurveys · 3 years

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1195

survey by n0b0dysp3rf3ct

—:: Who ::—

... was the last person you saw face to face? I passed by my brother last night when I had to go to the kitchen to fill up my tumbler.

... was the last person you texted or messaged online? Angela; I was just asking her for the difference among A4/A5/A6 since I’m now planning to buy a binder and sleeves for my rapidly increasing collection of photocards and postcards. It really frustrates me that A4 is the biggest one and A6 the smallest :((((

... was the last person who asked you for a favour? Kata, my manager. She filed a half-day leave last Friday to get herself and her family vaccinated in her town, so she had sent me over a very long to-do list of deliverables that she asked me to fulfill while she was out. Eventually she ended up filing a whole-day leave since she felt feverish after being under the sun all day, and also possibly from side effects of the vaccine, so I ended up carrying the entire workload for the day. I like Kata and she’s a very easy person and superior to work with, so I honestly couldn’t complain about it.

... was the last person you lent something to? Ooh, I don’t remember. I don’t really lend people things.

... was the last person who told you a secret/confided in you? Andi was just sharing to me their worries about taking the LAE (scheduled for today) and how they’ll be okay if they don’t pass.

... is the tallest person you know? Jo is like 5′7″ and we all look like beans when standing next to her. One of my uncles is also very tall; around 5′10″ or 5′11″ if I’m not mistaken.

... the shortest person you know? I think Aya? That’s just a smart guess, though; I haven’t seen most of my friends in more than a year.

... your oldest (in years) friend? Mik is turning 28 this year. Sometimes I forget just how much older he is than me since we vibe really well together during the rare times we did get to hang out. I’m still bummed we never got that smoke break we wanted to have.

... is the oldest (in length of time) friend? Angela.

... is your youngest friend? Hannah was born in 2000. Peter was born in 2001 but we aren’t that close yet.

... is your newest friend? I haven’t made any new friends recently. Stan Twitter is lonelier than I thought it would be; everyone is already friends with everyone so it’s hard to break that space. Not to mention everyone is also grossly younger than I am – I keep seeing profiles with ‘2004′ on their bio :/ I should start making an effort to look for older ARMYs lol, I definitely feel like I’d have more fun that way.

... is your closest relative? My eldest cousin on my mom’s side, my Kuya.

... was your favourite teacher? My music teacher from high school. I neeeeeever liked music as a subject and it was never a priority of mine, but she always kept our classes something for me to look forward with her advice and the way she was always able to make lessons interesting.

... was your least favourite teacher? Those who made it clear they didn’t like me, even though I didn’t do anything to deserve such hostility.

... did you spend the most time with when growing up? My siblings and cousins since we all lived together at one point.

... knows you the best? My two best friends.

... always beats you in games or sports? Andi would probably be able to beat me in any game. They just let me win because they know I can be a sore loser.

... who is the most creative of the people you know? My family is pretty artistic and I have a lot of talented relatives - my sister and my cousin Maggie paint and draw; my mom can make any kind of craft she wants, with her hnds; and one of my grand-aunts regularly does paintings. I think all of them are amazingly creative in their own way.

... is the funniest person you know? Probably Andi. Hans makes me crack up too.

... is the most organised that you know? My mom.

... that you know has travelled the most? My dad. Both our fridge doors are filled from top to bottom with magnets from places he’s travelled in due to his line of work. He’s toned down quite a bit in the last few years and has taken to staying within Asia, but back then his traveling history was super expansive – Germany, Jamaica, Italy, Belize, Aruba, Italy, France, Monaco, Denmark, Norway, the UK, US, Estonia, Portugal, etc.

... has always been there for you? Angela never left my side.

... has given you the most personal gift? I can’t possibly pick, my friends are pretty good at giving me gifts...like Andi getting me a Petals For Armor CD and a Punk shirt that hasn’t been produced in a while, and Angela giving me a personalized Friends mug because she knows I like my coffee and she knows I like Friends.

... has an annoying laugh? I don’t think anyone I know has an annoying laugh.

... never forgets a birthday? That would be me.

... do you live with? My parents, my two siblings, and our two dogs.

...,do you have the most in common with? I’m not so sure about this one, actually. I share bits of my personality with a lot of people - like me and Jo liking BTS, me and Andi liking wrestling, Blanch and I having similar personalities, me and Laurice being super meticulous when it comes to our work, etc. - but I haven’t met anyone who’s virtually a duplicate of mine when it comes to my traits and interests.

...is the sportiest person you know? I’m also not sure. Most people I know are into watching a bunch of sports, but none of them actually play.

...was your last missed call? It was an unknown number that I kept ignoring because THEY WOULDN’T TEXT WHO THEY WERE. If you have enough load credits to call me multiple times, then surely you can text me and introduce yourself first, and maybe then I can pick up the phone.

...did you last open your door for? My sister knocked last Friday because someone wanted to talk to me via landline. It was weird since no one calls via the phone anymore, but I have a gut feeling it was that ^ same person who had been trying to call me through my phone but never texted me. Eventually I learned it was one of the bloggers I’m talking to for work who just wanted to ask a few questions about our ongoing engagement.

... has your heart? Kim Taehyung. Expect the same answer for this type of question moving forward.

... has your respect? I gotta hand it to Tina for consistently doing well in her studies and excelling in every subject while doing photo and video editing for two orgs, working on her thesis, and being a board member in our mutual org, all while living alone. She does so well I wish I can tell her to give herself the occasional break to avoid burnout.

...do you share a special song with? I don’t think I have that with anyone.

...do you miss right now? Literally allllllll my friends.

...last made you angry? It’s been a while since I’ve directed my anger towards another person. When I get pissed off these days it’s usually over a situation that goes awry or out of my control.

...did you last buy a gift for? So this was not technically meant to be a gift, but what happened was I accidentally secured two orders of the same poster set, which was a part of this new BTS photobook coming out later this month, from two different shops. One of the shops merely posted an ‘interest check’ for the poster set so I signed up for it thinking it was harmless, but when they got back to me they already attached an invoice :/ I ended up having to pay for it just so things won’t get complicated between myself and the shop anymore; and I told Angela she can just keep the extra set I bought and that she can consider it a gift.

...did you celebrate your last birthday with? My family and technically my workmates since I didn’t file a leave that day. I also had food delivered to their house so I guess that can count as my ‘celebration’ with them.

...have you gone to a concert with? I went with Angela for my first Paramore show.

...can make you laugh? Anyone can tbh. It’s not very hard to make me laugh.

...has taught you how to do something? Nina taught me how to embroider and do basic needle/thread skills back when I was still getting into the hobby.

...has lost something of yours? I am almost certain my ex never kept the handwritten letters I used to write her. She never seemed to remember or bring up the things I wrote.

...has broke your heart? Gabie but I’m over it.

...has stood you up? Hasn’t happened to me before.

:: What ::

Is your favourite colour? Pastel pink.

Can you do that most your friends can’t? Type fast, apparently.

Is your birthday? April 21.

Colour eyes do you have? Dark brown/black.

Form of transport do you take to work/school? I work from home. But under normal circumstances I would drive my car.

Music do you like to listen to in the car? I connect my Spotify to the car’s Bluetooth and listen to whatever artist or playlist I’m into at the moment. The music I put on could also depend on my current mood for the day.

Languages can you speak? Filipino and English. I’ve also been able to pick up looooots of Korean phrases and expressions because of the amount of content I watch. I’m nowhere near fluent, of course, but I’m increasingly able to pick up what people say based off a few Korean words I’ll hear in a sentence.

Was the last thing you drank? Continued from idk. I finished off my glass of water from dinner.

Was the last thing you ate? My mom made pasta.

Time did you wake up this morning? Depends on how late I slept the night before and how tired I was, but it usually ranges between 5:45–7:30 AM.

Colour are your bedroom walls? They’re white.

Drink do you usually order when eating out? I never order drinks unless I’m at La Creperie, in which case I always get their San Gines hot chocolate; for everywhere else that isn’t a bar, I just get water.

Food can you cook well? ...I can’t cook.

Animals have you had for a pet? Dogs, rabbit, lovebirds, goldfish, and technically a cat but she was mostly Nina’s.

Are your initials? RC.

Kind of activities do you like to do on the weekends? I’m still kind of stuck at home during the weekends :/ so I can’t do much, but I’m not complaining since I actually prefer staying in these days. Anyway, most recently I’ve taken to catching up on BTS content I’ve missed over the last 8 years, so I like watching shows they’ve done like Bon Voyage, Run BTS, etc.

Movie do you know line by line? Two for the Road, TITANIC, and probably most of White Chicks.

Band(s) have you seen in concert? Paramore, One Direction, a bunch of local bands.

Do you buy/get to treat yourself? It’s usually food - I like giving myself a feast every Friday night - but I’m putting that in the backseat for now as I’ve realigned my money to be spent on BTS merch. My big purchases are saved for the albums for now, but every now and then I’ll see a postcard or photocard I like and buy them. Once I complete the albums I’ll be moving on to the concert DVDs, then the special packages, then probably BT21 plushies. Needless to say I have a longggggg way to go haha.

Colours your phone cover? I have a clear case.

Part of the world would you love to visit? Another continent would be nice.

Question do you dislike being asked? Even though I know people mean well, I don’t like being asked “How are you?” but tbh it’s more of a me thing because I just never really know what to say.

Subject were you good at in school? History.

Careers do your parents have? They both work in the hospitality industry.

Brand of clothing do you buy most often? For clothes clothes I’m not really loyal to a particular brand; I buy from different brands and shops all the time. But for shoes, I like sticking to Nikes.

Chocolate bar is your favourite? Not a big fan of chocolate bars. I love Reese’s Cups, though.

TV show have you watched every series of? Friends, Perfect Strangers, Breaking Bad.

Radio station do you listen to the most? It’s a little hard to tell at this point considering I haven’t driven regularly in over a year. But back when I used to do it, I usually flipped among 93.1, 99.5, and 87.5.

Podcasts are you subscribed to? I’m not the biggest fan of podcasts. Find them a tad bit boring.

Is your favourite dessert? Macarons or cheesecake.

Can’t you do that most around you seem to? Ride a bike.

Are 5 qualities you value in a friend? Loyalty, thoughtfulness, honest, sensitive to my needs and those of others, and intelligent.

Are 5 qualities you value in a partner? ^ Pretty much the same thing.

Size pizza do you usually order? Family size usually.

Cuisine do you like to order or cook? I’ve been getting Japanese so many times recently. I rarely go outside sushi.

Colour(s) dominate your wardrobe? Black and white, and colors that were in at one point like mustard yellow and pastel pink.

Toothpaste brand do you use? Colgate.

Sounds can you hear right now? My insanely loud aircon.

Is the weather like today? Like hell. I believe we’re reaching a heat index of over 50ºC every day now, so...that’s fun. It gets absolutely difficult to work in the afternoon when the temperature is at its most brutal, and its times like this I wish I got to work in the office so that there’s aircon and I could at least work comfortably :/

Are your plans for tomorrow? Just work and have tons of meetings, the usual.

:: Where ::

Do you keep your phone when not using it? I keep my phone near me even when I’m not using it since I could always get an important notification.

Were you born? Manila.

Do you go to unwind? Most days it would be the rooftop, but under normal circumstances I like staying at a coffee shop somewhere to escape life and my responsibilities for a short while.

Is your best friend right now? I believe they’re both at home since they have no reason to be out anyway.

Can you go nearby to have a good time? Personally, I would just go to the Starbucks near our village lol. If I’m feeling a bit more adventurous I’d head to Katip, which is prrrretty close by but not quite.

Is the nearest restaurant? We have a McDonald’s literally right beside the village. Then besides that is a Shakey’s, and right across that is a Burger King, then the aforementioned neaby Starbucks. Just makes me realize how urbanized my town has gotten in the last few years.

Is the nearest beach? If I had to guess, the nearest beaches would be in Batangas which is 2-3 hours away, but it really depends on how fast you can drive lol. I’m not too good with long car rides so in both times I’ve driven there I had always taken 4 hours.

Did you meet your closest friend? I met Angela in grade school, and I met Andi at a local rally in my university.

Did you go for your last vacation? Tagaytay, though it was a staycation more than anything else.

Is the nearest mall or superstore? It’s like a 3-minute drive away from the village.

Did you last get an injury? I have loadsssssss of new scratches and gashes all around my wrists from playing with Cooper.

Is the most extravagant place you’ve stayed at? It’s a toss-up between Aids’ or Gian’s house. Gian would probably win since I never actually got to go inside Aids’ place, and his was the first house I’ve been to that was able to literally take my breath away. OH and Shaun’s house was pretty fucking swanky as well.

Do most the local kids play? I would have no idea since I’m neither a kid nor a parent.

Have you been with your family? This is a very vague question lol...what do you mean where have we been? We’ve been to different towns around the country and several countries together, if that’s what you’ve been asking.

Did you spend Christmas last year? We visited a couple of relatives, and we also spent it at home.

Did your parents grow up? My mom grew up within Metro Manila; my dad in a city a little outside of it.

Did you buy the shoes you’re wearing? I’m barefoot at the moment and always am at home.

Would you like to go right now if you could? If life had still been normal I would probably be having after-work drinks at a bar near the office.

Do you miss the most from your childhood? I’m not sure how to answer this with where.

Is the best restaurant you know? I’m still searching for it.

Will you never go again as it was so bad? It’s not that it was bad, but I’d probably never dine at 8Cuts again because their burgers are not worth the hype and are very overpriced for their size.

:: When ::

...was your last vacation? My family’s last legit vacation was in August 2019; but we did have a quick escape to Tagaytay in January of this year.

...did you graduate? I officially ‘graduated’ from college in August, if you could even call it that.

...did you decide what career you wanted? Somewhere between my 2nd and 3rd year of college. That was when I decided I hated journalism and preferred PR, but since PR is under journalism’s umbrella there was no need for me to shift courses.

...did you have your first kiss? Continued. Like WHEN when or how old was I when? In any case, it was in January 2015 and I ws 16.

...did you learn how to swim? Idk, pretty early on. My parents liked taking us to water parks when we were younger, so we had a lot of exposure. I’m not sure if there was ever a time where something just clicked and I learned how to swim; I believe it had just come naturally.

...did you have your first relationship? By the end of 2014.

...did you meet your best friend? I met both of them in school, but at different points.

...do you feel the most at peace? Probably when I’m able to stay at the rooftop all alone.

...do you usually fall asleep? I’ve readjusted my body clock now (I used to want to be in bed by 9 or 10 PM, lmao) and I stay up until anywhere between 12-2 AM on weekdays.

...do you usually wake up? Ranges between 6-7:30 AM.

...did you last watch a movie? September.

...did you last go to a party? Around Februaryish, 2020.

...did you last cry? I can’t really recall. The last moment I can remember was crying over Life Goes On sometime last month, when I heard it for the first time. I’m just not sure if that’s accurate or when exactly in April that happened.

...did you laugh really hard? I always have a good laugh at least once a day.

...did you buy something pricey last? Idk what you would count as pricey but I bought the new BTS photobook set when it dropped back in April. Cost me around ₱3750. I wasn’t able to buy from the first press (it sold out in like 7 minutes lol) which included an exclusive poster set, so I had to look for a local shop that was already offering the poster set separately, and ended up shelling out another ₱2200 for it...which means all in all I spent around ₱5950 for it or roughly $125.

...did you have an argument last? Earlier this evening but I don’t want to get into it as it made me cry from sadness and frustration for the first time in months.

...did you last have a sick day? May last year.

...did you last recieve a hug? I have no idea. February, I think? when I hung out with my friends.

...when is your best friend’s birthday? July 22 or September 15, depends on which best friend.

...did you learn how to drive? I started getting lessons when I was 17, but I didn’t start feeling comfortable with it until I turned 18.

...did you last receive a surprise? Around a couple of weeks ago when my dad came home with Jollibee for us.

:: How ::

Many pets do you have? Two.

Many houses have you lived in? Three that I can remember, but I know my parents moved around a bit when I was a newborn.

Often do you shower? Every morning before my shift. I hate feeling sweaty and icky when I report for work.

Well can you cook? I can’t at all.

Many close friends do you have? I have two people I count as my absolute best friends, but I have a handful of close friends as well.

Many Brothers or sisters do you have? One of each.

Often do you go swimming? I don’t swim much at all, really...I haven’t done it since 2019, so that should say enough. As relaxing as it is, I feel like the clean-up afterwards can be such a challenge lol. Like if you swim in a pool you have to rigorously wash the chlorine off of you; and if you swim in the sea you have to also be thorough about making sure you’ve removed all the sand from your body.

Many times have you texted today? I don’t think I texted today but I did spend my whole day on chat platforms.

Do you like your toast (colour, topping)? I don’t have super particular preferences; I just like mine on the burnt side.

Do you like your tea and/or coffee? My coffee has to be sweet for me to enjoy it. I can take black coffee/Americano; I’ll just wince a lot with every sip. No tea for me thanks.

Do you like to celebrate your birthdays? With a lot of food.

Are you feeling today? A little frustrated because of an argument incident this evening. But I’m shaking it off and just focusing on the release of Butter tomorrow. My first BTS comeback!!!

Serious are you about your career goals? Very.

Many rooms are in your house? In total, 9.

Many bedrooms in your house? 4.

Did you do in your school exams? I was never consistent. I slacked off a looooooot in grade school; couldn’t give less of a shit about my classes then. I got a bit more hardworking in high school, but I still was a bit lax and I allowed myself to not put a lot of effort in subjects I didn’t care a lot for and that I know I would never have to use in real life, like chemistry or accounting, so there were exams I really excelled in and others that I would fail. It was only in college I started taking my studies incredibly seriously and I believe that showed in the grades I eventually got.

Close do you live to your parents? They’re like, five steps away.

Close do you live to your siblings? My sister’s literally in the room next to mine.

Sensitive to criticism are you? I know it’s something that can never be avoided, so I’m always open to hearing them, especially if it’s meant to help me. It doesn’t mean I enjoy it as it is being given.

Motivated to make changes are you? Depends on my mood and mindset.

Creative are you (1-10): -0.5.

Hard working are you (1-10): Probably a 22 if I really put my head into a task.

Sporty are you (1-10): I dunno, maybe a 6? I do like playing table tennis, but I’m pretty meh at any other sport.

Musical are you (1-10): 0.

Do you prefer your eggs? Runny yolk; scrambled; or a really packed omelette.

Often do you go out to eat? Before the pandemic, I liked eating out 2-3 times a week.

Would your best friend describe you? Not sure, I never tried asking them this. I hope it’s all nice things, though.

Can someone cheer you up if you’re sad? Send me photos of V. Hahahaha

Often do you meet up with your friends? ...What do you think? D:

Important is religion to you? It is not a part of my life whatsoever.

Old were you when you first stayed overnight from home? 15 or 16, I can’t really remember.

Old were you when you got your first pet? I was maybe 6.

Tech savvy are you? I know enough to survive my own, but I obviously can’t hack into other computers or things like that.

Do you show you appreciate those you care for? Buying them food.

Often do you cut your hair? I only take a trip to the salon once a year.

Often do you paint your nails? Never.

Many countries have you visited? Six.

Boyfriends/girlfriends have you had? Just one.

:: Why ::

... did you choose your username? Because it was straightforward.

... did you take this survey? I like surveys made in categories, and this seemed interesting and varied enough.

... did you choose the career you did? I found that I enjoyed it MILES more than journalism.

...did you last leave the house? I had to go to a local LBC for a work errand.

...did you last give up on something? She wasn’t worth the effort anymore. She hadn’t been for a while, but it took me forever to realize.

...did you search the last thing you searched? I wanted to sing along to the song but it was in Japanese, so I had to look up its lyrics.

...would you give up on someone completely? Oof, I guess you can refer to one of the previous questions. ^

:: If...::

You could live in any country which would you choose? Canada.

You could choose any animal as a pet which one? I’m perfectly content with dogs.

You could be famous for something what would you like? Being known for a funny tweet would probably be enough lol. I have no desire to be famous.

You are sad, how do you combat it? I don’t really get sad anymore these days, so I can’t super remember the go-to tactics I depend on...I guess I like listening to sad songs and allowing myself to wallow in the sadness, because I know I have to accept and process my feelings first before I can be able to calm down.

You can drive when did you learn? I learned shortly before I started college, when I was 18, because no one was going to be able to take me to university when the school year started.

You could have any job what would it be? Idk, I like the one I have now.

You could go anywhere for a vacation where would you go? Somewhere with a completely different feel and atmosphere, like Norway, Sweden, Finland...that part of Europe, basically.

You could eat anything right now what would it be? Samgak gimbap :/

You wrote a book what genre/topic would it be? It would be a book of essays or maybe a memoir.

You had a theme song what would it be? Idk I don’t really think about this.

You could meet any band/singer in person which one? Billie Eilish seems awesome and easy and fun to talk to.

You could act in any movie which would it be? No thanks.

You get married what venue would you like? Hotel.

If you have kids do you have names picked out? I have one name picked out for a girl but that’s it.

Could describe your dream home what would it be like? Brutalist and minimalist, with large windows, cove lights, and a lot of white space.

You could go back in time what would you change? Break up with Gab earlier.

Could use 3 words to describe your childhood which ones? Could’ve been better.

Could get the answer to any question which question would you choose? When I would die and how, just so I can have peace of mind.

You could have an endless supply of something what would it be? Money, because of course.

Meet anyone who no longer lives who’d you choose? My great-grandfather, mom’s side.

:: Can ::

... you ride a bike? No, never learned.

... you ski? I’ve never even seen snow, so no.

... you bake a cake? I can try but it will probably be very clumsily made as I don’t bake.

... you sing well? I wouldn’t say that. I like singing when I’m alone, but it doesn’t mean I’m any good.

... you do your own taxes? I’ve never tried haha so I guess not.

... you remain calm in a crisis? Depends on how serious it is.

... you do first aid? Let’s just say I wouldn’t volunteer if it comes down to it because I feel like I’d commit one fatal mistake that would make the situation graver.

... remember your best friend’s family members’ names? Both of their families, yes.

... you fire a gun? I’ve never tried so I doubt it.

... your parents drive? Yep.

...your best friend dance well? They’re not ‘dancers’ per se but sure, they can bust out a move or two.

...you make people laugh easily? Not everyone, but sure.

...stand up for yourself? That’s what I’m trying to learn these days.

...you do a martial art? No.

:: Would ::

You like to learn a new language? That’s always a welcome opportunity.

Save the life of a stray animal? Absolutely.

Know what to do if there was a hurricane? We have several ones come in the country every year so yeah, I can definitely say we’ve long been well-prepared for them.

Try a new cuisine? I do this as often as I can.

Risk your life for anyone? Yes.

You like to get back in touch with someone? No, I’m good now.

You drive in the middle of the night to get a stuck friend? Ina heartbeat.

You Know how to perform CPR? In relation to the first aid question, I wouldn’t volunteer myself in case I make a wrong move.

You likely win in a game of chess? I don’t even know how it works, so no.

You stop talking for a day for $100? Easily.

#survey #surveys

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