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Bob Morley (adorable with flower crown), Saskatoon Expo on September 18h, 2016.  

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me: appears on the dash

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zack- 4, 7, 17, 19

Do they have any verbal tics? Do they have trouble pronouncing certain words or getting their thoughts across clearly?

GOD, well, sort of.  Zack doesn’t always remember the proper words to use, sometimes meshing together words in his head that he’s heard around. he needs a lot of help. 

How does your character perceive themselves? Positive? Negative? Neutral?

It’s a mixed bag surprisingly. He has big dreams that hide some big doubts about himself and his own power. Ambition and naivete usually take precedence in his self image. He truly believes he can become a seraphim and an archangel and make all the friends along the way. That being said, he doesn’t like himself as a cherubim--at least, his duty. 

Is your character an introvert or an extrovert? How do they handle big crowds of people?

Extrovert to the max. Zack gets really excited at first, but if he doesn’t actually know anyone in the crowd, his nerves do act up. He would need to make a friend fast if that were the case and that probably means a lot of word vomit on the first person who looks his way. 

If your character was suddenly challenged, would they rather run away or stay and fight?

That depends entirely on the situation. If it’s just him that is being threatened, he’s more likely to try and talk the other person down or ply them with flowers. Zack doesn’t like to fight, but that doesn’t mean he can’t. He’s a trained soldier with a big ol’sword and all. He’ll fight to protect those around him. I’m not sure if he could make the finishing blow if it came to that tho

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BABE

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Welp spent my birthday doing nothing but reading

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As I am now officially older and wiser let it be known that ivy is a weeb

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Welp as of midnight I will be living the Taylor Swift song I guess

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.

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Well that was a thing.

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In line for panic. Gonna be in the presence of Dane.

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Woops

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"Well, good," said Milliano mildly, tracing his fingers over the side of Beck's face--before they dipped into his shaggy dark hair to ruffle it, the taller of the two bringing himself in closer with a slinking movement, maneuvering to rest his brow against the 'wolf's own briefly. "I'd be concerned if I wasn't succeeding in making you feel okay. Good, even," he mocked, making a playful face down at Beck before sitting up again, dark eyes strangely human. "You look okay, too. Good, even."

Beck should have been mortified--he was mortified honestly, but something in the moment and in the air kept it, mostly, at bay. The wolf nosed against Milliano’s face while it was still withing nuzzling distance, letting out a small whine. The man’s tone wasn’t helping his underlying mortification, but the look in his eyes helped a little. “...Good.” The wolf curled in the empty space the other left and glanced upward. “You don’t look half bad yourself.” 

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Sometime Around Midnight | Airborne Toxic Event

And so there’s a change, in your emotions. And all these memories come rushing like feral waves to your mind. Of the curl of your bodies, like two perfect circles entwined. And you feel hopeless and homeless and lost in the haze of the wine.

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Sprawled against Beck, Milliano dwelled on the heat and for once thought of home. Not because he was pining for it--not the thick underbrush of Uruguay or the bloody rivers; no. Just that Beck's skin was like the sun, and the sun, for once, refused to burn. He had no doubt Beck could if he wanted to; but for some reason, he refrained. One hand lifted to brush back dark curls, fingers tracing Beck's brow. "How are you, Reid?" asked Milliano, lips quirking into a crooked smile. "Really."

Beck stiffened a little at the uttered name as it sent a shiver down his spine. Then came the heat, not the wolfish firestorm that usually held him, but a pleasant warmth that pooled in his middle. He was so stupidly pleased and it did not take long for it to leak across his features in the form of a goofy smile. 

“Right at this moment?” Reid Beckett laughed without an ounce of all his wickedness. He wasn’t actually sure how to answer that question. He’d never really had a home and so there was little he could associate with one in this moment or the next. Still, Beck shifted to get a better view of the vampire’s face. He felt oddly safe here in this moment. All that cheesy shit it that load came with.  

“I’m okay. I’m...good even,” he managed lamely. For the first time in a very long time, Beck really was. 

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