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xjoonchildx · 5 years ago

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airplane, pt. 2 | jjk x reader chapter one: ICN --> LAX

pairing: jungkook/reader word count: 6.4K rating: 18+

genre: smut | silly smut | nonsensical smut

warnings: criminal!jungkook, koreanamerican!jungkook, highly improbable condom placement, unrealistic use of available sex space, reality has left the chat, plausibility has left the chat

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

artwork by the shmexy @ppersonna who’s smut is even better than her art

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

One day it works out too well, then the next day I’m completely screwed (I still) Who should I live as today, Kim Namjoon or RM? 25, I still don’t know how to live well So, today as well, we just go -- Airplane, Pt. 2 BTS

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

Jungkook Jeon is basically your Carmen Sandiego.

You stare down at the photocopy of the state of California driver’s license in your hand, into the face of the brash little fucker you’ve been chasing across the globe for the better part of a year.

He looks barely old enough to drive.

Of course, this picture was taken years ago when he was a sophomore at Stanford. Back before he dropped out of school despite being in the top of his class. Back before he broke the law by taking six million dollars of someone else’s money, then broke his parents’ hearts by disappearing without a trace.

You should already have him in custody — and If he were like any of the other greedy assholes you usually chase, he would be. But instead, Jungkook Jeon has managed to deflect and dodge and avoid you at every turn for months.

It’s driving you fucking insane.

One time, you’d been so certain about cornering him in Argentina that you’d boarded a plane with a pair of thick-necked US Marshals and flown south. You’d had to head back to the States empty-handed and sunburnt and pissed.

The real kicker was when you’d gotten home and opened a one-line email – encrypted to hell and back – with a picture of your FBI Academy graduation headshot attached.

you’re so hot i almost want to get caught. almost.

That had hurt.

So you’d had to lick your wounds, bide your time and wait for a man who apparently didn’t make mistakes to make a mistake. And for a while, he didn’t.

Until he did.

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

Agent Kim Namjoon is definitely not the pencil pusher you imagined him to be during your many phone calls and other interactions.

No, the man who meets you and your team at Incheon International Airport is what the kids these days call a snack. He is tall and broad and wears a pair of dark thick-rimmed glasses that should make him look like a giant nerd but somehow don’t.

Very, very cute.

“Welcome to Korea,” he says with an easy smile. You smile back, then clear your throat and remind yourself you’re not here to flirt with your contact with Korea’s National Intelligence Service.

Seriously.

Agent Kim’s English is immaculate – this you already knew since you’ve exchanged more than a few calls in recent weeks. He’s got his own team ready for briefing at his headquarters. After a quick drive, you’re all in one room going over the plan.

His guys have tracked Jeon to a high-end restaurant in Seoul where he’s been working for a few months. They already have a rough sketch of the area. You’re going to block off every exit, cover every angle, and make sure there’s no way he’s getting out of that restaurant without coming through one of you.

This should go off without a hitch – but then you remember Argentina and frown.

“He’s there. My guys are ready to go,” Agent Kim says, after taking a quick call on his cell phone.

It’s decided, then.

You load into black vans and take off for the west end of the city. Agent Kim drives and you have the chance to look out the window at the streets. It’s a beautiful place, you think. Agent Kim seems to read your mind.

“You should come back sometime,” he says. “When you’re not here on business.”

Sigh. You’re going to have to flirt with this man, aren’t you?

“I would like that. Maybe you could show me around some time,” you reply.

His eyes stay on the road – his hands locked at 10 and 2 – but you see the ghost of a smile pass over his lips. You smile to yourself and look back out the window.

Minutes later you’re parked outside an industrial-looking brick building. Gleaming glass-and-stone condos and perfectly manicured greenscaping confirm you are in a high-dollar neighborhood. It’s a Saturday night in a ritzy part of Seoul and you’re probably about to ruin someone’s date night.

Or maybe rescue it, depending on the date.

You stare out at the restaurant and imagine Jungkook Jeon inside, going about his life without realizing you’re here to throw a wrench into all his plans. You get a little thrill when you imagine the look on his face when he realizes the gig is up. Victory is so close you can taste it.

Agent Kim gets a call from his point man, everyone is in place.

Showtime.

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

“Is that consommé? It looks like consommé. What do you think, Agent Kim?”

Jungkook Jeon looks shaken for a moment when you step in front of the table where’s he’s just laid out a picture-perfect pair of starters. His guests, a nicely-dressed older couple, also look shaken as they glance nervously between you, Agent Kim, and their now permanently off-duty server.

He straightens to his full height.

The youthful roundness of the face you’ve stared at so long in that driver’s license picture is gone. You have no idea what this guy’s been eating for the past few years, but in place of that baby-faced kid is a man, tall and broad and muscular. Tattoos you can’t make out run across his hands, up his arms, and disappear into the white dress shirt he has rolled to the elbows. His hair is on the long side, pulled back, giving you an unobstructed view of what can only be described as a perfect face. Serious, literal perfection.

Good grief.

Somehow the little shit recovers from his shock in an instant. He smirks, despite his clear disadvantage.

“I gotta say, you look even better in person.”

Oh yeah? So do you.

You ignore his opening line.

“It’s time to come home, Mr. Jeon. Pay the piper and all that.”

He has the nerve to roll his eyes and your hand itches with the desire to punch him in his stupid fucking perfect face.

“Teamed up with some Korean suits, huh?” He gives Agent Kim the once-over and apparently finds him lacking.

“Mr. Jeon,” you feign a scandalized tone. “Just how do you think I was raised? It would be downright rude to barge into a sovereign country without an invitation. Besides, Agent Kim here has been an absolute pleasure.”

You could hear a pin drop inside this restaurant right now. Every knife and fork and glass has come to rest on the fine white linen on these tables. The guests are frozen in place, taking in the strange scene.

Dinner and a show tonight, guys.

Jungkook doesn’t move an inch. You’d half expected him to just walk up, accept his cuffs and get this show on the road. But no, apparently he’s in a talking mood.

“Tell me how you found me.”

You sigh. You’re not a pair of girlfriends catching up over coffee. You open your mouth to say just that, but Agent Kim speaks up.

“We had a source come through with some very specific information on you.”

“Oh, I think Agent Kim is being far too kind,” you counter. “What he means to say is that your Korean sucks. You see, Mr. Jeon, you may look like them,” you gesture at the restaurant full of guests, “but you sound like us. Let’s just say you stick out like a sore thumb here.”

The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement at the jab.

“I hated Korean school, you know.”

“It shows.”

He laughs.

Agent Kim clears his throat as if to remind you both that you’re not alone.

“Well this isn’t a social call, and I’m sure all these fine people would love to get back to their meals. So why don’t we finish this chat on the way back to the United States, Mr. Jeon?” you say, getting back to the task at hand.

Agent Kim signals his guys and they swoop in to put him in cuffs. He doesn’t resist, just holds out his hands and shoots you his most flirtatious smile.

“I’m going to hold you to that, Agent.”

On your way out the door, you glance over at the consommé and hope it’s supposed to be served cold.

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

“What is a man who stole six million dollars doing waiting tables at a restaurant?” you muse out loud.

Jungkook Jeon is in the backseat of Agent Kim’s black SUV, looking out the window.

“I had to have some kind of story, right? Besides, I kind of liked it.”

“You didn’t get to spend the money,” you say.

“Not really,” he admits. “It’s much easier to fantasize about blowing millions of dollars than it is to actually do it.”

“Tsk, tsk, Mr. Jeon. What a shame.”

He leans forward in the backseat, hands cuffed in front of him.

“You know what would really be a shame, Agent? If I don’t get the chance to fuck you before you lock me up.”

A muscle twitches in Agent Kim’s jaw.

“Watch your mouth,” he warns, glaring into the rearview mirror. You immediately decide you like him a little stern. It’s pretty hot.

“Mr. Jeon, you and your dick will be free to do whatever you’d both like in about twenty years. That’s how this whole grand larceny and evasion thing works,” you say, ignoring the sensation that spreads across the back of your neck at his crass words.

He whistles.

“I’m really going to waste my best-looking years in prison.”

No kidding.

“Oh, don’t be too disappointed,” you say sweetly. “I hear there are a few advantages to having such a pretty face behind bars.”

You hear the clink of his cuffs and look into your rearview just in time to see him give you the finger.

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

The government can be so cheap sometimes.

You’d have loved to pull right up to the tarmac at Incheon International, walk right onto a chartered plane like the Feds do in the movies. But alas, private flights are definitely not in the budget.

Instead, you have to settle for regular seats on a Korean Air flight. You’d been in touch with the airline ahead of time and they’d offered you and your team privacy in the back rows of the plane – complete with a curtain separator. You really couldn’t blame them for not wanting passengers to be greeted by a handcuffed man and his gun-toting babysitters.

Smart move all around.

Seating arrangements are decided, you and Jungkook on one side of the aisle, your two Marshals on the other. They’re both smart men, highly-skilled and boring as hell. You’d already had to suffer through their small talk on the fourteen-hour long flight here, and you’d be damned if you had to do it again on the way back.

“Are you going to let me have a drink?” Jungkook asks, as soon as you’re settled into your seats.

“Of course,” you reply, scrolling through a few emails on your phone. “What’s your favorite kind of juice?”

He snorts.

“It’s gonna be a long flight unless you play nice,” he warns.

“Mr. Jeon,” you sigh. “Shut up.”

He shakes his handcuffs.

“You could at least take these off,” he grumbles. “Not like I can walk off of a moving plane.”

“Nope,” you reply, affecting your best bored tone. You grab a magazine out of the seatback and pretend to leaf through it.

“So you want me to sit here – no phone, no headphones, no nothing – for fourteen hours?”

“Better to practice that ‘bored out of your mind’ routine sooner rather than later. I’m sure it’s gonna come in handy.”

You don’t look his way, but you can feel the glare he’s fixed on you and you have to fight the urge to smile.

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

The flight attendant who rolls a giant drink cart into your quiet section of this plane looks like a doll. Porcelain skin, huge eyes and the whitest smile you have ever seen.

Jungkook straightens in his seat immediately. He’s been pouting for the last hour but now he sees this dazzling young woman and his game face is back on.

“Hello,” he says, flashing her a smile.

Then he stops — seems to remember his audience — and resumes the exchange in Korean. You stare at him as he makes eyes at the flight attendant, working her with the confidence of a man who is not wearing handcuffs right now.

She blushes deeply at something he says before turning back to her cart to pour a Jack and Coke.

“Are you serious, Jeon?”

He smiles.

“You don’t hate me, right? Like, obviously I’ve pissed you off, but you don’t hate me. Because only a person who hated me would stop me from having a drink on my way to federal prison.”

You open your mouth to protest, but instead decide that he’s right. He’s a thief – not a killer for pete’s sake.

A super-hot, ridiculously charming, complete asshole of a thief who is definitely not getting under your skin by flirting with the flight attendant right now.

The porcelain doll turns back and hands him his cocktail and Jungkook winks at her. This man just accepted his drink with his hands in fucking handcuffs and this woman is blushing at him like he just asked for her number in a nightclub.

“Are you done?” you hiss.

“With what?” he asks innocently, cuffs clinking as he lifts the drink to his mouth.

“Eye-fucking the flight attendant.”

He feigns shock. “Are you – are you…jealous?”

You scoff and turn your attention back to your magazine.

He leans close.

“Don’t be jealous,” he says, blowing whiskey-scented breath into your ear. “I wanted you first. I’m only flirting with her because you’re really mean to me.”

He leans back and takes another sip of his drink.

There is something about this mischievous boy-man with the chiseled body and the smart mouth. He certainly has a charm. You’re certain he’s been able to use that charm to get out of more than a few sticky situations over the years.

“I wasn’t kidding you know,” he says. “About wanting to fuck you.”

He shakes the ice in his glass to show off that he’s already drained it and gives you another one of those self-assured smiles that’s really starting to piss you off. You drop your gaze back to your magazine.

“I’m not going to fuck you,” you state simply, pretending to have a deep interest in some blurb about face masks.

“No? Are you sure about that?”

“You are mind-bogglingly arrogant for a man who is headed to prison for the next two decades,” you reply dryly.

“Probably headed to prison,” he corrects. “Innocent until proven guilty, due process and all that. Unless things have changed? I realize it’s been a while since I’ve been home.”

You snort.

“Okay fine, you’re right. I’m headed to prison for the next twenty years which is why it’s imperative that you fuck me now. Immediately. Anything else would be,” he gives a dramatic shake of his head, “Inhumane.”

This time you can’t help but laugh and one of the Marshals across the aisle gives you a disapproving look, like he’s been forced to chaperone a pair of giggling teenagers.

You clear your throat and look back down at your magazine, force the smile off your face.

“Argentina,” you say. “How did you get out of there before I got to you?”.

The flight attendant returns with another drink and another smile for him.

“You want something, I want something,” he says, taking a long sip. “Maybe we could work something out?”

“I’m not going to fuck you for information, Jeon. All of that will soon come out in the wash,” you sigh.

“Then fuck me for charity. For good will. Fuck me because it’s the least you can do since you’re blowing up my entire life right now.”

You roll your eyes.

“You blew up your life, you idiot. You’re the one who intercepted a wire transfer and stole six million bucks. You’ve already been fucked. You fucked yourself.”

He smiles wistfully for a moment.

“Yeah, you’ve got a point there.”

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

You stop him at three drinks.

His eyes have taken on a soft quality and his entire energy is a bit more relaxed with some booze in his system. It’s hard, it’s really hard to ignore how hot this man is without even trying.

But when he tries? Then it’s damned near impossible.

You check your watch. You still have seven hours to go on this flight.

“Luck,” he says, suddenly.

“Excuse me?” you say, looking up from your magazine.

“You wanted to know how I got out of Argentina in time. I was gonna make up some fancy story about how I’d figured out you were on to me and beat the clock to get away but the truth is, I was just lucky. I’d already been there too long and I was getting restless. I was ready to go.”

Hmm. So the booze has made him talkative.

“Your landlord said we’d missed you by one day,” you counter.

“Yup,” he laughs, closing his eyes momentarily as if reliving the thrill of the chase. “I used to have a lot of luck, actually. Before I ran into you.”

“Sorry about that.”

“No you’re not.”

“Fair enough,” you say and the two of you share a laugh. You open a bag of pretzels and offer him one. He begrudgingly accepts.

“Why did you take the money?”

He chews thoughtfully for a moment.

“Because I wanted to know if I could. I didn’t think I was gonna pull it off, but again, it was my luck. Once I figured out how to do it, I just did.”

“How remarkably stupid,” you breathe, a smile on your face. He smiles, too.

“Yeah, well. I said I was lucky, not smart.”

“Oh, but you are smart, Mr. Jeon, and don’t think you’ve convinced me otherwise. Your transcript from Stanford tells a very interesting story. What did your parents say when you dropped out at the top of your class and went to work at a gas station?”

The sarcastic back-and-forth screeches to a halt. For the first time, you see darkness pass over his face.

“Don’t ask me about my parents,” he says curtly. “I’ll tell you whatever else you want to know, but that shit is none of your business.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, and this time you mean it.

He shifts to his side, away from you, and looks out the window.

You sit quiet, thinking for a minute – but after a while you both fall asleep.

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

You wake to Jungkook nudging you.

“Get up,” he says urgently. “I have to piss.”

You groan, trying to clear the fog from your brain and glance at your watch. Still four more hours to go on this flight.

“Like now,” he says, bouncing one leg to ward off the sensation.

You get up, stretch out, and wait for him to stand but then realize he’s waiting for you to help him since it’s an awkward fit in the seats with his handcuffs. Instead of making a snarky comment, you just offer your hand and a slight smile.

Very unlike you.

“Thanks,” he says, straightening out, stretching his legs. One of the Marshals raises an eyebrow at you.

“He has to use the bathroom,” you say, stilling the man with a raised hand when he makes to stand. “It’s alright, I need to stretch, too. I’ll walk him down there.”

The Marshal looks skeptically from Jungkook to you and back.

“It’s fine, Agent,” you say, a little annoyed. “It’s not like he can go anywhere, right?”

“Right,” Jungkook says, still bouncing that leg.

The Marshal gives you a look that makes clear he doesn’t approve, but he’s not going to stop you.

You walk behind Jungkook as he makes his way past the curtain, down the aisle and towards the bathroom. It’s a half-empty flight, and you’re glad for it when you see people staring at his handcuffs. You don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you can’t help but feel a little embarrassed on his behalf when you hear them whispering in Korean. At least you don’t know what they’re saying.

The firm set of Jungkook’s mouth makes you think he wishes that were the case for him, too.

“Just uh, give me a minute,” he says, when you reach the bathroom.

It turns out to be a lot longer than a minute.

You’re half tempted to bang on the door and demand to know why he’s taking so long. Maybe the Marshal was right to be suspicious of Jungkook. Maybe he figured out a way off this plane through the toilet.

You’re bouncing your own leg impatiently when he finally reappears.

“What took you so long?” you ask, annoyed.

“You ever try to take your pants and underwear off while handcuffed?” he asks. “You know what — never mind, don’t answer that. You’ll start giving me ideas.”

Ah. He’s back, then.

Part of you is a little relieved to hear his smart-ass mouth again. You feel a hell of a lot less guilty around this version of him.

“Listen, I did a little recon and it’s a tight fit, but there’s definitely enough room for us to fuck,” he says, face comically serious. “And we’re running out of time for you to pull the trigger, so what’s it going to be?”

“Ugh. You’re foul,” you say, pulling a face.

“But you kind of like it,” he shoots back.

He’s right, though. You kind of do.

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

Clearly you’ve lost your mind.

Pheromones have short-circuited all the portions of your brain that control logic, reason, and risk. That’s the only plausible explanation for why you are slumped into your seat right now, legs pressed together tight, imagining fucking Jungkook Jeon in an airplane bathroom.

Sympathy and curiosity and more than a little horniness are making for a strange mix. You reason to yourself — as if you are actually entertaining this madness — that he’s not a convicted felon, just an accused one. There’s gotta be a loophole in the FBI handbook somewhere.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Jungkook asks, leaning close — a smile playing over his lips.

“Shut up.”

“You are,” he whispers in a scandalized tone. “I mean with these on, I’m not going to be able to do my best work, obviously, but I’ve done more with less. Unless you want to take them off,” he says, rolling his wrists in the handcuffs.

“I already told you, I’m not taking those off,” you say sharply.

“Alright, alright. Keep it kinky. I can roll with that.”

”Shut up, Jeon.”

He gestures across his mouth like he’s zipping it shut and throwing away the key and you fight the urge to laugh.

“If I decided to fuck you, and I’m not saying I would,” you hiss, “I would have to stuff a sock into that smart mouth of yours just to not have to hear it.”

He laughs and his face looks so young and relaxed it takes your breath away a little.

“Make it your underwear and we have a deal,” he winks.

You pick up another magazine and get back to actively trying to ignore him and that annoying pulse between your legs.

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

Two hours left to Los Angeles.

You glance over at your guard dogs, who’ve both knocked out after a snack. One has a newspaper draped fully over his face, grandpa style.

You should have ordered a drink. You should have ordered six. That way, if you’re ever called to the carpet about the decision you’re about to make, you can blame it on alcohol-induced psychosis. Because the Marshals are asleep and you feel bad for Jungkook Jeon and he’s so hot you can barely think straight at this point. You take a deep breath and make a decision.

Fuck it.

You stand quietly, motioning to Jungkook with a finger over your lips. For a moment, his brows knit together in confusion but that look passes almost as quickly as it came. Then his entire face breaks out into a wide grin.

“Yeah?” he whispers.

“Shut up,” you whisper back, through gritted teeth.

You hold out your hand to help him to stand and when he grips it, he rubs his the pad of his thumb across your wrist. You try to ignore the sizzle of arousal he manages to drum up with that brief touch.

Quietly, you both walk past the curtain, past sleeping passengers and back to the clean but cramped bathroom where you are about to do the dumbest shit you have ever done.

You glance around at the passengers nearby and notice only one older man, eyes wide on the two of you. You shoot an excuse-me-sir-this-is-official-government-business look at him before following Jungkook into the tiny space.

You lock the door and turn to face him.

“Glad you finally came around,” he says, immediately backing you into the door. His mouth goes right for your neck and he pushes his entire body into yours in this tiny space. He is large and warm and he smells way better than he should after working a restaurant shift, being arrested, and then being jammed into a plane seat for hours.

His lips work up the column of your throat and his hands, still secured in front of him, push uselessly into the front of your lightweight wool dress. Shame, really, that you couldn’t take him out of these. You’d love to feel those hands right about now.

“I wasn’t kidding about keeping your mouth shut,” you manage to say, breathless at the feel of his mouth on your skin. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

The vibration of his laughter tickles the shell of your ear.

“I’ll be a good boy, I promise,” he says. “I just need to get my face under this dress.”

Your brain stutters for a moment, hung up on the mental image. He drops to his knees in front of you, lifts his hands to try and push up the front of the almost-too-tight garment but his handcuffs make it impossible. You graciously help him out, hiking the hem up your thighs. You’re about to work your underwear down, but he’s impatient, burying his face directly into the wet satin and inhaling deeply.

“Fuck, you smell amazing,” he groans, nosing the aching nub between your thighs. You’re glad he can’t see the way your mouth drops open when he licks out at the damp material, teasing you with the barest hint of friction.

“Help me out here,” he moans, and you do just that, sliding your panties down as best you can with the amount of space you’ve got.

At this angle, you can only get them down to your knees, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to care. He pushes his entire face into you, lips and teeth and tongue driving into you, working you with a fervor that makes your knees start to wobble. You grab a handful of his hair to steady yourself but it’s no use. Absently, you realize the tremors running up and down your body are rattling the door.

“Nice to know that mouth is good for more than just trash talk,” you tease on deep exhale. He laughs.

“Maybe some day you’ll get the chance to enjoy the full-service experience.”

“Probably not, Jeon,” you moan. “This is just a one-time favor, got it?”

All the blood in your brain has taken a dive into parts lower south and you marvel at how quickly your impending orgasm is coming on. But then, you’ve basically had about ten hours of foreplay up to this point, so maybe it’s not that surprising.

That damned door keeps rattling and you just know the little old man on the other side is probably staring it down. You’re not sure what it says about you that you think that’s kind of hilarious.

Your body jolts when Jungkook wraps his lips around your clit and sucks so hard you see stars. “You’re the one about to come on my face in an airplane bathroom,” he groans, licking obscenely between words. “So who’s doling out favors right now?”

Well, that does it.

The second he brings his lips and tongue back to your clit, you fall apart, gripping his hair so hard you’re certain it has to hurt. You pour all your energy into not screaming as your orgasm steamrolls you, and whatever energy you have left goes into trying to stay upright. Jungkook stays face-first in your heat, lapping up your release until the last tremors shake you and that goddamned door.

“Shit,” your voice is shaky, chest heaving when you finally make a sound.

“You are very, very fucking hot,” Jungkook says, breathless from where he sits on the floor. “Way too hot to be a Fed.”

You laugh.

“Well you are definitely too hot to be a criminal, but here we are, huh?”

Your eyes slide down to his glinting handcuffs, but they aren’t what’s catching your attention. Instead, your gaze heads right to the giant bulge straining against the front of his jeans. Turnabout is fair play, and you’re suddenly very eager to return the favor.

You help him stand and immediately seal your mouth to his, tasting yourself on his lips. Your fingers fumble past his restraints, underneath to where you can feel the button of his jeans and you undo it as fast as you can. He stops kissing you long enough to groan into your mouth when your hands slip into his boxers and your fingers wrap around his cock. He is hot and thick and hard in your hand. You squeeze around him, enjoying the way his hips jerk in response.

“Don’t tease,” he whines. “I’m gonna have to fantasize about this blowjob for the next twenty years.”

“I’d better make it memorable then,” you say, sinking down to your knees in the cramped space. You shove his jeans off his hips and look up at him as you gently push his boxers down and over his straining cock. His body is rock hard, lean muscle and defined lines running from his shapely legs up to his cuffed wrists and underneath that white shirt you’d love to peel off but can’t.

His head falls back the second your lips touch his swollen head. You tease it for a moment with a few quick licks, but decide this is really not the time to be dragging this out. The strangled “fuck” he whispers when you take him down fully is the sweetest and dirtiest thing you’ve heard in a while.

You manage to catch his gaze for a moment as you maintain a steady rhythm on his cock with your hands. His eyes are glassy with drinks and arousal, and you nearly have to slip a hand between your legs when his tongue slips out of his mouth to wet his lips.

He lifts and drops his handcuffs a couple of times before growling his frustration at not being able to put his fingers in your hair. You feel a faint throb of sympathy for him for a moment before reminding yourself that you literally have your mouth around his cock so frankly, things could be a lot worse for him than they are right now.

“You gotta stop,” he says, after a few minutes of the slow, wet torture. You release him with a soft pop and a confused expression.

“It’s your last blowjob for twenty years, Jeon. You want me to stop?”

“No, no,” he says quickly. “I have to fuck you. Please let me fuck you. It’s all I can think about,” he whines.

“You can’t,” you say firmly. “No condoms.”

He blows out a heavy breath like he’s thinking for a moment and there you are, on your knees in this tiny bathroom, confused as to what your next step should be.

“Look around,” he says suddenly.

“What?”

“Look – people fuck in airplane bathrooms all the time, right? It’s a thing. Maybe someone out there pulled some hero shit and is looking out for the next person.”

“This bathroom,” you say skeptically, “is the size of a goddamned shoebox, Jeon. You think we’re going to magically scrounge up a condom?”

“Just look,” he implores through gritted teeth.

“Fine,” you huff, leaning over to pop the cabinet under the sink open. You put one searching hand inside and pull out three sanitary pads that look like they were packaged in the 1970s.

He groans, frustrated.

“Hang on,” you say, jamming your hand back inside. Your fingertips brush up against something smooth and you fish it out, eyes wide with utter disbelief.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you say, more to yourself than to him.

You hold the condom packet up for him to inspect.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, cock jerking at the sight of it, like it knows he’s just hit the jackpot.

He laughs so hard for a moment you fear this entire encounter has gone entirely off track.

“My luck is back,” he declares triumphantly, finally. “Now, please hurry up and get on my dick.”

You’re shaking your head in disbelief the entire time you’re ripping the packet open, rolling it down Jungkook’s impossibly still-hard cock. He’s breathing hard, body tense with anticipation when you slide your heels off to take your underwear off completely.

“The heels,” he groans, watching as you slip your panties over your ankles. “Can you — you know…keep ‘em on?”

“Ugh, you are such a pervert,” you scold, slipping your feet back into the shoes and leaning back to line him up with your entrance. He surges forward and you moan at the stretch as he fills you entirely in one thrust.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, dropping his head into the crook of your neck, already rolling his hips frantically against you. “Shit, that’s incredible.”

And truthfully, it is. The ledge of the sink is biting into your ass with every thrust and you’re having to do most of the work given his handcuff situation but you really don’t even care because he still feels amazing like this.

He mouths uselessly at the wool covering your breasts because there’s no way to get to them. You nearly admonish him because he’ll leave crude wet spots on the fine material, but you decide against it.

“Oh, I bet you have amazing tits,” he groans, hips maintaining a steady rhythm. “Giving me something to look forward to for next time.”

“There won’t be a next time, Jeon. And there won’t be a this time if you don’t hurry up already,” you shoot back.

He laughs, a little breathless from exertion. “I’m close, I promise. Fuck, you feel so good.”

You squeeze tighter around him, push harder back against him, angle your hips a bit more to ensure he’s going to the hilt with every thrust. The guttural sound he makes in response sends a shiver up your back.

“I’m gonna come,” he gasps after a moment, mouth covering yours as his hips begin to stutter at the first ebbs of his release. Your ass is numb from the sink ledge at this point, legs tired from supporting your weight and his.

“So come then,” you tease, biting gently on the sensitive skin at his pulse point. He groans from deep inside his chest as he lets go – hips jerking as he pumps himself through it.

“Shit,” he groans, leaning on you with his full weight.

“You are crushing me Jeon,” you complain, pushing at his chest with both hands. He chuckles. “Yeah, sorry about that. Balance is a little off at the moment.”

You open your mouth to shoot another sarcastic comment his way, but there is something about the way he is looking at you right now that stops you short.

You clear your throat, uncomfortable with the tiny glimpse into whatever that was.

“Well, as much as I’d love to ruminate on how good this was,” you say, shifting your dress back down and making a beeline for your underwear, “We’ve been in here an insane amount of time already. There’s probably a line outside the door.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, a little too quiet for your liking.

So you put yourself back together and help put him back together, too.

And strangely, when you open the door to leave there is no line. But that little old man is still watching, a look of astonishment on his face as you both walk past.

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

“Listen, are you sitting down right now?”

You frown at the phone display in your office because any conversation that starts with an opening line like that is headed south.

“Uh…yeah. Why?”

“Hang on, I’m coming to your office.”

Seconds later, Agent Novak bursts through the door.

“So you haven’t seen it,” he says, rushing up to your desk.

“Seen what, Novak? Spit it out,” you say, frustrated already.

“Check your email,” he says, arms crossed over his chest. He looks fit to burst with some kind of excitement and your chest already feels a little tight at whatever it is he’s dying to show you.

You click into your email to find an urgent bulletin that you’d missed because you were working on a stack of papers on your desk, not your computer. The subject line makes your heart hammer.

URGENT MEMO: Fugitive Search, Jungkook Jeon

ATTACHED VIDEO FILE

“The guy just walked out of a federal courthouse like he was on an afternoon stroll. Had on a suit and everything,” Novak says, a note of awe in his voice. “Check out the video.”

Your mouth is already hanging open before you even click on the attached CCTV footage. A camera inside the courthouse shows Jungkook Jeon walk out of a bathroom in the front lobby, dressed like an attorney, not a defendant. His long hair is cut into a more professional style, his suit covers his tattoos and he looks entirely in place.

Novak is right – he walks so casually past the guards and other visitors that no one even thinks to stop him.

“Word is, court was on a lunch break and it looks like he had everything ready to go. Walked into a waiting Uber and vanished like smoke.”

You haven’t said a word since Novak walked in with this bombshell.

You just watch the CCTV footage over and over again in a loop, willing your brain to accept what your eyes can see clear as day.

This motherfucker.

Guess his luck really is back.

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

#jungkooksmut #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x read #btssmut #bts fanfic #bts fic

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 5 years ago

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One Hundred Days - Good Omens Fic

Another fic for @bingokisses - Part 1 fills the prompt “Back of the Head kiss/Knees Brushing under the Table.” For once, just some nice easy fluff, little bit of anxiety, and happy ending (in part 2). Also available on AO3!

Part 1: The First Fifty Days

The first night at the South Downs cottage, Aziraphale cooked dinner while Crowley finished setting things up on the upper floor. It had been ages since he’d cooked anything that wasn’t a pastry, but pasta was simple enough, and salad, and…well, rather more dinner rolls than two beings needed, but he’d had more time than expected.

They ate and talked for hours, neither quite believing that they had done it, that they were in their place. Their home. Sometimes, Aziraphale would hold Crowley’s eyes a little too long and need to look away, waiting for his heart to settle down again.

He kept glancing around, unable to shake the feeling that something was wrong. That they were exposed, that someone was watching, that something was about to happen, though he couldn’t say what. But no – only the long wooden table, the stone fireplace, the steps leading upstairs, dark carpet on pale wood.

He shivered anyway.

“Alright, Angel?”

Breathe, Aziraphale told himself and took another sip of wine. All night, his feet and his knees had brushed Crowley’s under the table. It was daring, and thrilling, and more than a little terrifying.

“Perfectly fine, Crowley.” The bread rolls had gone cool hours ago, but Aziraphale reached for one anyway, tugging at it with his fingers. “I was wondering what…what you…planned to do? Once we’re all unpacked and such?”

They should have discussed it more. Wasn’t that what humans did? Spend weeks and months talking about what sort of home they want, what sort of life, dreaming of what moving in together will be like. Making sure their dreams matched up, their expectations.

They didn’t buy cottages – in the middle of a forest, no less, half a mile from the nearest village – without considering questions of…of hobbies, and use of space and…and living arrangements. They certainly didn’t take such a step without…defining their relationships.

Three weeks. Six thousand years and then some of dancing around certain emotions, certain thoughts, and somehow Aziraphale had thought three weeks was enough time to plan such a drastic change?

“The garden.” Crowley nodded towards the window, but the sun had gone down and all either of them could see was his reflection. “Plenty needs to be cleared out. Maybe lay a new path. And the planting – not a lot of options for fall blooms, but some of the best spring flowers should be planted now.”

“Where would you start?”

Crowley tapped his fingers on the table. “Have to see what that garden shop in the village has. Tulip bulbs for certain, they need time to settle in before the cold. Daffodils or geraniums. Scilla, crocus, maybe fritillaria. Snowdrops, I think.”

“That all sounds…” Aziraphale glanced at the potted plants in the windows and the corners, the remnants of Crowley’s flat. All were tall, lush, and unvaryingly green. “Sounds very colourful.”

“Thinking of experimenting.” Crowley shrugged. “It’s a challenge. They need different soils, different amounts of sunlight, different watering schedules. And you always have to be thinking about the next season, and the next.”

“Seems like a great deal of work.”

“Only if the flowers try to be disobedient brats.” Crowley shifted his fork around his empty plate. “Might get some more trees, too. S’a good time to plant saplings.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale smiled just a little. “Apple trees?”

“Well…maybe,” Crowley grudgingly admitted, with that particular frown that was also a sort of smile. “Pears, too.”

“It would be nice to have some fresh fruit next fall.”

“Nah. Takes years for the trees to be ready, maybe a decade.”

“Ah.” Aziraphale glanced out the window now himself, trying to remember what the garden looked like. They really should have spent more time preparing, studying, learning the ins and outs of this cottage. A few days of feverishly sketched plans over bottles of wine. Hardly anything at all. “Well. I suppose I’ll be buying my fruit from the market, then. A few trees might be nice, eventually, though. If you’re willing to put in the work.”

“Nmmmh.” Crowley arched his back until it popped. “Speaking of hard manual labor, I think it’s bedtime.”

Aziraphale’s head whipped back around. “What? What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Crowley pushed to his feet, “I’ve been moving two-stone boxes of books all day and we’re not even half done. You want to order me around again tomorrow, I need some sleep first.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale’s stomach turned to ice. His eyes flicked to the stairs, remembering how he’d rushed down them to start on dinner that afternoon. “Oh, I – I – I, you know, I still have to – to clean all the dishes and – and pots and pans – there’s so much to do…”

The tall, dark form rounded the table quicker than he expected, and Aziraphale tensed – but Crowley merely stepped behind his chair and gently kissed the back of his head. “Take your time, Aziraphale.”

“I…” He shredded the bread roll in his hands. “I…think you…you’ll regret saying that.”

“Never. I mean it.” One more kiss, quick pressure on the back of his head. “Take all the time you need.” He squeezed Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Good night, Angel.”

The stairs creaked under his feet as he went up without another word.

On the second night, Aziraphale served mushroom risotto. It wasn’t the only thing he’d cooked that day – he’d been secluded in the kitchen since before Crowley rose, trying every challenging recipe he could think of. The bins were filled with burnt croissants and raw beef and a baked Alaska that had gone horribly wrong.

“You planning to cook that much every day?” was all Crowley asked, as they settled back in their seats after dinner. “You could probably feed the whole village with all that.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale glanced guiltily at the kitchen. “I suppose…I mean, it certainly fills the time, doesn’t it?”

Crowley tossed his head, the way he did when he was thinking, and his growing hair swirled around him in a red cloud. “I mean, yes, I suppose it does. But. Is that what you want? To fill time?”

“I’m not sure what else there is to do,” Aziraphale said. “Not much of a theater scene out here, no museums, no restaurants, no customers.”

“Do you miss the city?” He asked it a little too fast, and Aziraphale’s stomach clenched with even more guilt.

“No, dear, of course not. I just…well, I’ve been there so long…I’ve rather forgotten what there is to do out in the country. But I know I must keep myself busy.”

“Only if you like.” Crowley turned his plate. “We should be done with the big items tomorrow. I’ll be able to start the garden and…just, do whatever makes you happy, alright?”

They continued for hours. They seemed to have run out of the excitement of yesterday’s conversation, and now alternated between awkward chatter and pauses so long, Aziraphale feared they’d run out of things to talk about and would remain silent forever.

Finally, Crowley stood. “Better get some sleep,” he said, stretching.

“Oh! Is it – is it really that late?” Aziraphale glanced at the clock in a panic. “Oh, drat, there was, you know, so much more I meant to do today.” Crowley started walking around the table. “I – I – I mean, as you said, I wasted quite a good deal of food, a few miracles ought to put it all back into its original state and – and perhaps I can donate—”

Crowley paused behind his chair, and kissed the back of his head. Aziraphale closed his eyes, trying to memorise it, the feel of Crowley’s lips and breath stirring his hair. They hadn’t really decided if their new partnership would involve kissing, or hand holding, or…other things of that nature. They’d done a few anxious experiments, made rather more assumptions and…never really articulated anything.

But this…Aziraphale thought he might like this.

“Good night, Angel.” A quick shoulder squeeze, and Crowley headed up, stairs creaking under every step.

On the fifth night, Aziraphale stopped making excuses. It was starting to feel silly, as Crowley never acknowledged them anyway. When Crowley rose from the table, he simply said, “Pleasant dreams, my dear.”

“Always.” A quick kiss to the back of the head. “Good night, Angel.”

By the tenth night, nearly everything had been unpacked and put into some semblance of order.

They’d spent two hours rearranging Aziraphale’s armchairs, carrying them up and down the stairs as he decided which would go in the study, which in the living room. When Aziraphale was satisfied, Crowley had gone outside, leaving him to rearrange his books in peace.

Aziraphale soon discovered that, with the window open, he could hear the sound of footsteps in the garden, of spade into earth, of a grumbling, threatening lecture delivered to each sapling before it was lowered into its new permanent spot. It was a comfortable sort of background noise, and Aziraphale smiled as he worked.

There was a second door on the upper floor, across the hall from his study. Aziraphale did his best not to glance at it all throughout the day.

After supper, they moved into the sitting room, Crowley sprawling on the sofa, Aziraphale comfortable in his favorite armchair. They talked, glanced at each other, smiled. Crowley played with his mobile phone while Aziraphale flipped idly through a book.

“How was the village?” Aziraphale wondered, since Crowley had finally made it out to the plant shop.

“S’alright. They’ve got a bakery you’d like. And the market.”

“Mmmm.” They’d visited a thousand villages and towns together through the years, yet somehow the thought of walking together through this one in particular made Aziraphale feel cold.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

He wasn’t sure when that might be.

They sat in silence for a little while longer. At least Aziraphale no longer worried it would last forever.

When the demon abruptly stood up, Aziraphale’s fingers only twitched a little, curling around the pages of his book. “Well, that’s it for me tonight.”

“Of course.” He stared fixedly at the page. “Have a good rest.”

“I will.” A kiss on top of the head, almost absent in its familiarity. “Good night, Angel.”

On the twenty-third night, Aziraphale waited for the Good night, Angel, then grabbed Crowley’s hand, a little too fast, perhaps. Studied it. Crowley had been in the garden all day, and the dirt was still there in the beds of his nails, his hair probably thick with sweat. Aziraphale rolled Crowley’s hand over, studying the lines, the shapes of his fingers, the length of his palm.

Finally, he gave it a squeeze. “Good night, Crowley.”

Perhaps there was something more he should do. Kiss the knuckles. Brush them against his cheek. Something.

But it all seemed so…much.

Every night, then, he simply gave Crowley’s hand a squeeze, and received a smile in return.

The thirty-second night, they returned to the cottage late. The weather had been just right for a walk through the woods, which had turned into a walk to the village, followed by dinner at the little restaurant, and ultimately Aziraphale trading recipes with the chef over a glass of wine.

Crowley had waited patiently, almost-smiling, and they’d finally started the walk back under the stars.

“Did you have fun?” Crowley asked, walking beside him, one hand in his pocket, the other dangling between them. “The walk? The village?”

“I suppose.” Aziraphale conceded. “I must try this squash au vin recipe soon. And it is…rather pleasant out here.”

“Yeah?”

Aziraphale was suddenly very aware of the forest, the brilliant stars, and his proximity to Crowley. “Hmmm. But I’d like to get back and finish reading, if you don’t mind. Rather a lot of lost...reading time.”

“Yeah.” Crowley tucked his loose hand into his pocket.

Aziraphale didn’t read, though, when they returned. He held a book on his lap as they sipped wine, talking about places they’d visited through the years. Then Crowley mentioned that time they’d run into each other at a performance by Mozart – one bottle of wine turned into three – and a great deal of reminiscing ensued.

When, more than a little after midnight, Crowley finally stood to head upstairs, he paused to give Aziraphale’s forehead a clumsy kiss. “Night, Angel.”

Aziraphale gave his hand an easy squeeze, and they smiled at each other without restraint. “Good night, dear.”

On the forty-eighth night, Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand and didn’t let go.

He wasn’t sure why. They had a rhythm now, a pattern, something sustainable.

Almost sustainable.

Aziraphale still never went upstairs after dark, still never looked at the door across from his study.

On some level, he knew what he needed to do.

They both waited, countless seconds, for the other to speak. But Aziraphale had lost his voice, and Crowley’s expression was as masked behind the glasses as it had been for many centuries.

The cottage was utterly silent, except for the ticking of the clock.

“Yes. Well.” Aziraphale swallowed. “Good night, dear.”

“Good night, Angel,” Crowley said for the second time, and Aziraphale finally relinquished his hand, heart racing.

But on the fiftieth night, fingers wrapped tightly around Crowley’s, on the fiftieth night, Aziraphale stood up, on the fiftieth night he let Crowley lead him up the stairs. He trailed slightly behind, hand clutching the bannister as they ascended, noticing how much heavier the creaks were under his own feet.

At the top of the stairs, Crowley turned right, away from the study, and pushed open the other door, the one Aziraphale could never quite bring himself to walk through, and—

The bedroom was just as they’d arranged it, fifty days before. Heavy red curtains, cream area rug over dark wood, bed in the center of one wall, an end table on either side.

The tartan pillow still lay at a skewed angle, exactly where Aziraphale had dropped it when the sudden panic took him, the sudden realisation of what they were doing, and it was all too much, too fast, and good lord, here he was again, what was he thinking?

Crowley led him to the left side of the bed, the side nearest the door, with black pillowcases and the down duvet slightly rumpled. Pulled his glasses off, and at the first sight of golden eyes, Aziraphale pulled back, eyes slamming shut, hand clenching, seizing up. Crowley snapped his fingers—

Then, for a long time, nothing happened.

Aziraphale finally, cautiously opened his eyes, to find Crowley in black pyjamas, watching him.

When Aziraphale nearly met his gaze, Crowley half-smiled, leaned forward, and kissed his cheek. “Good night, Angel.”

Crowley dropped his hand and climbed under the duvet.

But Aziraphale stood stock still. Now that he was here what was he supposed to do? Fifty days and nights, he should have had a plan but here he was, still just as afraid as the day they’d arrived.

Crowley’s voice, a little rough, with that curious burr in it: “S’alright, Aziraphale. Take your time.”

“But…But it’s already been…” He looked around the room, the one room they’d discussed all night in his bookshop, all the papers they needed to buy their cottage piled on the desk between them. The room they’d breathlessly planned, whispers escaping uncertain lips and bright red faces.

It certainly looked as though it had been planned by two drunken fools with no idea what to do with a cottage, the most atrociously mismatched combination of colours and styles.

But it was all here. The little shelf to hold his favorite books, the electric kettle for if he wanted tea in the night. The overstuffed rocking chairs by the largest window, overlooking the corner of the garden with the little duck pond. The planters lining the rest of the windows, filled with sweet-smelling herbs. The record player, Crowley’s awful music already organised in the stand below it while Aziraphale’s awaited him in a box nearby.

It was a jumble, a mess, it was everything that represented their life together.

And he wanted this life. He truly did. But it had all come too quickly, too suddenly, he wasn’t ready—

“Aziraphale.” Their eyes finally met. “Don’t worry. Take all the time you need.”

He hung his head, burning with shame. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be.” He could feel Crowley watching him, but didn’t dare look up. “I…I mean, look. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

After several more breaths, Aziraphale gathered his courage, stepped forward, and pulled the duvet up to Crowley’s chin. Bent down, lips hovering just shy of Crowley’s forehead, his breath stirring crimson strands. “Good night, dear.” His courage broke, and he fled the room, pulling the door shut behind him.

“Good night, Angel,” muffled but still as gentle as ever.

Part 2 to be posted on Wednesday. If you enjoyed, please drop a comment on AO3!

#good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #asexual ineffable husbands #south downs cottage #aziraphale and crowley #anxious aziraphale #crowley not going too fast #aziraphale #crowley #aziraphale loves crowley #crowley loves his angel #my writing #ao3 link

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subtlereferencetomyinterests · 5 years ago

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5 times Logan helped his partners get their shit together +1 time they returned the favor

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22854292

MasterPost

relationships: Logan-Centric DLAMPR (platonic creativitwins)

warnings: Remus-typical conversation topics (Teeth circa 2007, puke, crushing vids), food mention, minor injury and blood, panic attacks (kinda?), overworking, bad self-care habits, fluffy fluffy fluff.

Feedback Is Welcomed!

1- Deceit

Deceit paced about his new room, picking up and moving large boxes in repetition and yet refusing to begin unpacking. He assumed his most comfortable form with all of his arms out, as he would usually in his old room. The others had assured him that they didn’t find it disconcerting, but even just being on this side of the mindscape made him self-conscious. He moved another box compulsively.

It had been a month and a half since Deceit and Remus had finally been “accepted”, and it still felt surreal. Everyday he felt another barrier crumble with his new… partners? That was also odd to think about. He was constantly replaying the scene of Patton in front of him, after they’d steadily built a rapport, absolutely distraught with remorse. Taking his hand. Letting him and Remus into the life the others had built.

But the more he thought about it, the more he realized how steady the progress was. He’d been dating Remus for ages, and of course there was the half-year ago that Virgil started speaking to him again. He’d never been on particularly bad terms with Logan and Roman… Perhaps it was merely an inevitability he hadn’t recognized, or more likely refused to wish for.

And yeah, he'd taken his sweet time switching over. He’d “moved in” weeks ago, but hadn’t yet had the will to unpack. Everytime he started, he stopped, the feeling that he didn’t have the right to claim the space. Because he had to keep it in his head that it could all be taken away, even after he continued to be assured by his partners otherwise. But he was here now. He was here, and he was seen, his input listened to, he had the focus he’d been vying for finally. It was terrifying.

The conscious, of which previously Deceit had only had occasional glimpses when he visited, was just plain exposing. The snake wondered how Virgil of all people could have handled this living here when he moved, and then cringed at the thought. It spoke to how bad things were before, he supposed. Anything is better than living in the unconscious. It… didn’t bring out the best in anyone.

Deceit shook his head. It was the past, they'd all agreed. Things had changed, were changing.

Looking down, Dee realized a pair of his hands had been carefully shredding the cardboard lip of one of his boxes into neat little strips. Fuck. So much for reusing that one. He exhaled deeply, tipping his head back as though to clear it like an Etch-A-Sketch. He let his eyes lay closed for a moment before the sound of his opened door creaking wider broke the silence.

"Deceit? Are you quite alright?"

Deceit spun around to see who had spoken. Logan stood in the half open doorway, hands folded in front of himself and head tilted a bit in confusion. Deceit did not find that expression cute on him, not at all.

"I'm just peachy, and you?" The side lied with a sharp-toothed grin. Logan frowned a bit, and yeah, Deceit hadn't expected him to believe that, but call it a force of habit.

"Falsehood. You have been staring into space for approximately five minutes. Do you require assistance unpacking?" Logan nodded to the mass of boxes. Deceit crossed a few of his arms.

"This conversation is obviously best had with you standing in my doorway like the absolute worst doorstop," He said dryly, "Why are you here?"

Logan seemed confused, hesitant before stepping fully inside. He looked around at the barren room quickly, probably noting that the only things in there other than the boxes were the bed, bookshelf, and desk.

"I wanted to see how you were adjusting. I presume not well, given that your room has not changed since you first moved in over a month ago."

"You presume wrong."

"No, I don’t."

"No," Deceit smirked, showing gleaming white fangs, "you don't."

Logan nodded, and dropped the pretense of hesitance and took to opening and unpacking a box filled with philosophy books. To his credit, Deceit resisted the urge to snap at him and just accept the help. Character Development, he thought to himself with amusement, as the other began arranging the tomes on the expansive bookshelf.

"Would you like them arranged by the author's last name or by subject matter?" Logan asked, without looking back at Deceit.

Deceit wondered if the helpfulness was another perk of the conscious. He then wondered if that was just one of the many nice things about Logan specifically. Then he stopped wondering because he remembered that questions usually needed answers.

"Um, just last name is fine."

A few minutes passed in relative silence, Logan occasionally asking about some of Deceit's numerous psychology books as he moved on to the next box. It was nice to be around someone who didn't groan and walk away when he shared his thoughts on such subjects, not that he didn’t understand why most others did that.

When it began to feel awkward just leaning against the wall while someone else did all his unpacking, Deceit began to empty boxes into the closet (Literally. He upended boxes of clothing before grabbing three or four at a time and arranging them on hangers). Logan, finished with the books, glanced over at Dee with a curious look.

"So. How are you feeling?" Logan asked, and Deceit could tell he wasn’t used to willingly asking questions like that. He wasn’t sure if he appreciated the concern or was annoyed yet.

"I thought feelings weren't your department, Teach?"

"I'm being serious." There was a beat. Deceit sucked in a breath, regretful for his instinctive bitchiness. He turned away from Logan and started organizing the sizable portion of his wardrobe made of cloaks. Hesitantly, and with an amount of secrecy remaining, Deceit spoke.

"Well, it's… good to be out of the dark, so to speak. Honestly, I'm still sort of reeling…" Since when did not lying get so hard?

"But?"

Deceit paused again, finished with the clothes and taking a moment to fidget uncertainly. He spun around to set up his decorative houseplants, sighing.

"I feel exposed," Deceit said suddenly. Logan looked up from where he was organizing various items, tilting his head in that cute, confused expression he was prone to. Except not cute, because Deceit was not weak to such frivolous feelings at all.

"That’s absurd, You wear the most clothing out of any of us, down to the gloves-"

"Not literally, Amelia Bedelia," He snapped, twirling a heat lamp between a few of his hands. "I mean in a mental sense. You must know what I’m talking about, it's like being monitored."

Logan seemed thoughtful, coming to sit on the edge of the bed. Deceit placed the lamp on a bedside table (lest he smash it against his wall while he gestured, which wasn’t unlikely), and sat beside him.

"I would liken it more to being at the ready for consultation; being at attention. You are here because you have something to contribute that could be crucial to solving a problem. You will get used to it, you’ll probably even appreciate it at some point. For now, though, you would benefit from distractions. I would recommend spending time in the Commons. With Us." Logan smiled softly for a moment, "Around all the others, things seem to get easier. For me, at least."

Deceit stared at him, surprised at the tenderness with which Logan spoke. Looking around, the side noticed that the new room- his room- was now full of all his belongings. The boxes were piled up in the corner, and with a snap they popped away to nothingness. In fact, he could probably have just unpacked with a snap. Logan obviously knew that, too, but he still did it by hand.

Huh.

"Well, it appears you're all settled now. I should go, before your room begins to take on its effects, like ours do." Logan said, standing abruptly. Deceit noticed that he looked rather sheepish, and then realized that he hadn't spoken since Logan's small speech.

"Yes, uh- it appears that way. Thank you, by the way, for… helping me unpack."

"It was my pleasure." Logan said with a small smile. All of his smiles were small, a bit reserved, but so surprisingly warm. A lot of things about him were like that, Deceit thought. Including the way he gave the snake a quick peck on the cheek before righting himself again, looking unaffected save for the small pink tinge to his countenance.

“Disgusting,” Deceit said, a smirk on his face.

Logan nodded a bit to himself, looking over his shoulder before he left.

"I'll see you soon." It wasn't a question. And with that, Logan closed the door and was gone.

Deceit sighed, not a tad dreamily at all, thank you very much.

He supposed that living here wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

2- Patton

Patton flitted about the kitchen with ease, humming a little tune and batting his fingers along the counter-tops as he prepared dinner. The first dinner that he'd officially serve for his whole, recently expanded family. He didn’t notice it at first, figuring that over the time they’d grown closer they must have all eaten together, before it hit him just how different all their schedule’s were; it wasn’t often that dinner included all of them before either. Breakfast, sure, but breakfast was easy- there were no stakes!

He was being silly, he knew that. It was just dinner, nothing special. It wasn't even like making more food was hard, given that Pat could conjure ingredients at will (and they hardly needed to eat, anyway), but it felt monumental. This had to be perfect, this meal had to embody all the remorse the fatherly side felt for his treatment of the others. They could swear up and down that they’d moved on, and he wanted to move on, but he couldn’t quite believe it. Not yet. He couldn’t let himself have it that easy. They were his family now, they had to know just how much he loved them after everything.

Patton slumped against a counter, pulling his hands down his face. Why were things so stressful? There was a time when it was all simple and easy- he was sure of it. Why couldn’t things just be okay after they all agreed it would be, why did he still have to feel like-

Someone cleared their throat behind him.

Patton spun around quickly, putting on a smile.

“Logan!” Patton exclaimed, “I’m a little busy right now, Kiddo. How can I help ya?”

Logan raised an eyebrow.

“I am not the one in need of help, Patton."

"What do you mean, honey? Is somebody hurt?" Pat asked with a gasp. Logan only smiled a bit, an odd and uncomfortable kind of smile that made Patton feel suddenly guilty.

"No, nothing like that.” Logan assured him, “Do you want any- I mean, I am feeling rather restless. Would you mind if I assisted in tonight's dinner preparations?"

"Oh!" Patton seemed caught off guard, but quickly recovered, "Of course!" Relief laced his voice.

It was only after Logan got started carefully cutting bell peppers that Patton realized what had happened. He glanced over at the taller side, feeling a sudden and intense surge of appreciation for the help (and maybe a bit of embarrassment at how he hadn’t caught on to the obvious front immediately). It wasn't out of the ordinary; all of Patton's emotions were intense, especially those he felt for his partners.

Patton realized he'd been staring when Logan looked over at him, cocking his head to the side.

"What's on your mind, dear?"

Patton leaned against the counter, shoulders slumping. Logan was almost as impossible to lie to as Deceit.

"Oh, I'm just a bit nervous, Lo."

"That's understandable."

"Is it?"

"Of course. You're putting a lot of pressure on yourself because this is the first time that all six of us are having dinner together as part of… This," Logan gestured between himself and Patton, and then more generally around the room, "You want it to be perfect. But, you know that perfection is unattainable, darling."

Patton felt immediately flustered at the accurate summary. This man could read him like a book.

Logan quickly washed and dried his hands as he finished with the peppers, coming to stand in front of Patton. Instinctively, the emotional side leaned into him.

"You're right, as usual." He admitted into Logan's shoulder. Logan chuckled lightly, fastening his arms around Patton's waist.

"You know how much I love to hear that."

Patton grinned and giggled against Logan’s collarbone, his mood lifting considerably.

"Mhm!"

"We should probably get back to work, though, if you’re ready." Logan reminded gently after a moment, slipping his arms down to entwine his fingers with Patton's.

"Yeah, good idea."

They worked together in comfortable silence for a while, movements well-practiced and precise. Shifting to the side as the other reached to get an ingredient, ducking down as a pot was carried over head, as they worked in tandem for the millionth time.. Well, the figurative millionth, as Logan would specify.

The two were waiting now, as the food cooked. It was Logan that spoke first.

"Oh, and for what it's worth, Pat?"

"Hm?"

"Don't be so hard on yourself. You certainly shouldn't worry about the others judging your food, because I'm sure that Remus' standards at the very least aren't particularly high. As the kids would say," he pushed his glasses up on his nose, smirking, "That Gremlin man has trash taste."

Patton couldn’t help it, he launched into a giggling fit at Logan’s use of, as Virgil would say, ``Tumblr Talk”. He couldn’t even get it together to scold Logan for the insult. When he finally calmed down, he looked up to find a very proud looking Logan. Patton smiled as wide as he could, brighter than the sun, and wrapped his arms around Logan again.

“Thank you,” Spoken as quietly as Patton could manage, with tremendous weight behind it.

3- Roman

He didn’t notice it at first; the splintering of the glass casing surrounding the dark ink, the cracks forming in his ornate and elaborately decorated pen. Roman had to keep working, he’d gotten into a groove and he knew that this time he could get the story right, if only his damned hand could move as fast as his thoughts. If he stopped, it could be weeks before he found the motivation to work like this again. He lingered a second too long between sentences, and immediately a blotch of void-black liquid pooled on the paper. The creative side growled,clenching his fist in frustration.

And the pen shattered.

Roman cursed loudly, pulling his hand away to hold it over the wastebasket by his desk (Which was already filled to the brim with discarded and crumpled drafts). Needle-sharp shards of glass had embedded themselves in his hand, the blood flowing around them barely visible through the dark ink. Roman’s breath shook as he hazarded a glance at his papers. They were soaked through with ink and blood, completely unsalvageable.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck fuckfuckfuck.” The side chanted, feeling tears of frustration and pain prick at the corners of his eyes. Hours of work, all wasted. He began frantically knocking the remnants of the pen and ruined papers into the overflowing wastebasket with his uninjured hand, cradling the other close to his chest. Alas, the papers below it were already botched up as well. Nothing remained of his efforts. A sound akin to a growl-sob escaped his throat.

And then footsteps stopped right outside of his door, and his breath hitched.

“Roman?” The door was pushed gingerly open, revealing a very concerned looking Logan.

“What’s up, specs?” He said, feigning a superior smile. Roman tried to hide his obviously injured hand. There wasn’t a chance he was telling Logan, of all people, what had happened. After all, he was the side to insist that Roman take more breaks, as though it wouldn’t mess up his flow entirely. Yeah, he did not want to deal with the incessant reminder that Logan ‘told him so’.

But Logan already had That Look on his face. That studying, prying look that got under Roman’s skin and saw through him with perfect clarity. It was as annoying as it was hot.

“Roman, let me see your hand."

Roman held out his undamaged hand and smirked.

“What’cha looking for, Microsoft Nerd?”

“You’ve used that nickname before," Logan walked into the room, stopping mere inches from Roman. "Show me your hand.”

Roman grumbled, tossing out his arm with more force and flair than necessary. Logan deftly caught his wrist and held it in place, careful not to press against the injured areas as he scrutinized the appendage. He sighed, locking eyes with Roman and wearing that "I’m not mad I’m just disappointed/concerned" look. That meant trouble. Wordlessly, Logan took Roman’s uninjured hand in his and led the trait over to the bathroom, sitting him down on the edge of the ornate tub that fills half the room. The side then arranged an array of first aid items on the counter around the sink, including a harsh-looking disinfected that Roman winced at the sight of.

“So.” Roman muttered, kicking his legs.

“So?” Logan replied, sterilizing a pair of tweezers. Roman groaned, throwing his head back melodramatically.

“Aren’t you gonna lecture me, Bill Gay-tes? You're being weirdly quiet."

"So you admit you need to be lectured for something?"

Roman scoffed in offense, "Well, I just meant- You're always going on about something that I did, even if I was just-" Roman cut himself off with a sharp hiss of pain as Logan began picking the glass out of his hand with the tweezers, methodical as always.

"Apologies, this is going to hurt."

"Yeah, thanks for the forewarning- fuck!"

Logan made short work of the shards of glass, pausing to examine the rest of the medical supplies.

"I think you already know what I'm going to say, Roman." He answered, finally.

"You're gonna say it anyway though, huh, Dweeb?"

"Yes, as it clearly bears repeating." Logan had now moved on to cleaning and wrapping Roman's hand with immense care, "You are overworking yourself, Roman. You need to take a break. You’re going to hurt yourself… again.

“I can… understand how it feels when you get the figurative ball rolling on a project. But your health is more important than whatever it is that you are working on. You can’t keep doing this, I- I’m worried about you.” He hid his eyes as he focused on bandaging Roman’s hand, drawing in a deep breath. “Now, I suggest we give you a change of scenery before you drive yourself mad.”

Roman was pulled to his feet, suddenly nose to nose with Logan (who looked, now that he could see his face, much more distressed). Roman reached up tentatively and he realized with a jolt of embarrassment that he was crying, just a little. He pressed his hands to his face. The bandaged one smarted a little, though it was much less painful than before. He knew that Logan was right, but he desperately needed to restart the story he had completely destroyed. The thought of starting over was impossibly daunting in the emotional state he was in, but he couldn’t dream of putting it off, either. But, then again…

“Fine. I suppose I could part with my work for a few minutes; my writing hand needs time to recover, after all.” Roman dried his tears, but still stubbornly refused eye-contact.

Logan smiled, knowing full well that they were all ambidextrous.

“Would you like to point out the various plot holes in The Princess and The Frog with me?”

“Oh, you know me too well.”

4- Remus

The common room was unusually empty. There was no Patton skipping around the kitchen cooking, or cozied up watching Parks and Rec on the TV. There was no Roman twirling and singing loudly while tidying, or ‘looking for inspiration’. There weren’t even any signs of Virgil or Deceit curled up in their chairs, listening to music while drawing and reading dusty old moral philosophy books, respectively. There was, however, a Logan entering stage left.

Remus glanced over at him quickly, and then bit his tongue. Literally. He was curled up in a tight little ball in one corner of the couch, mindlessly gouging deep slashes into its arm with his clawed fingers. He fitfully acknowledged Logan’s presence with a nod as the bespectacled side surveyed his surroundings. The energy of the common spaces was always neutral- it had to be- but Remus could feel the air around him tremble with excitement, hysteria, and millions of rushing thoughts and feelings as the power of his aura pushed outwards unnaturally. Internally, he fought to keep it all in, simultaneously dreading being alone and being around someone he’d inevitably upset.

“Have you heard of crushing videos? That’s when someone puts small animals on a glass table- Oh! with a camera underneath, of course- and they’re wearing big heels and- and can you guess what they do?” Remus blurted, giving a somewhat manic grin to Logan. The trait seemed to have finished assessing the situation and took a seat beside Remus, turning to face him. Well, that was unexpected.

“Yes, quite awful. Although, they’re usually quite hard to find.” Logan added without hesitation, or seemingly any concern. Remus almost felt relieved, before his brain immediately discarded the subject as soon as Logan tried to engage with it and scrambled to find something new. Something worse.

“Have you seen the movie Teeth, circa 2007?”

“Yes, I found it highly unrealistic. It had quite a satisfying- if a bit twisted- ending.”

Well, there goes that topic.

"What do you think it would be like to vomit and then have to re-eat it?" Surely that would cross a line. Fuck, why was he like this?

"Unpleasant, most likely." Logan wrinkled his nose slightly, but made no move to further the distance between himself and Remus. "The acidity would damage the enamel on your teeth, of course. Which is also why you shouldn't drink excessive amounts of lemon juice."

"Why are you still here?" Remus snapped, the words coming out harsher than intended. Logan blinked at him in surprise.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No!" Remus cried. He lurched across the couch, before pulling himself back (he'd been trying very hard to respect personal space; he hardly wanted to upset his new partners, if it could at all be avoided). “But, it doesn't make any sense. You should be upset, you should have already wanted to leave- fuck, I just keep- I make people uncomfortable. It’s what I do.”

Logan glanced around the room and nodded.

“I figured that's why it's so empty. It is odd how your powers are affecting the common space. The others can be… easily stressed.”

"It's not their fault! It's. It's me. But I didn't mean to!" Remus felt himself clawing the couch again, remembering how the room had emptied. Concerned looks shot towards him, because of course everyone could feel the room changing in a way it never should. They were trying to talk to him, help him, but the second he tried to speak out tumbled a disgusting stream of consciousness. As he was listing the crimes of Albert Fish, finally even Patton left, looking shaky and worried and apologizing quickly. Pat had spoken rapidly, much like Remus, and wow, had it really gotten that bad in here? Remus couldn't quite believe the apology, couldn't rid himself of the thought that if he didn't shove them away, they'd only keep pretending to be happy he was there. He couldn't stop.

“Of course, it’s hardly anyone's fault. You clearly have a lot on your mind.” That managed to break Remus away from the spiraling thoughts (at least temporarily).

"I guess so," He muttered, eyes downcast, "It's probably because I know I shouldn't be here. I feel it deep down, like a throbbing, oozing, pus-filled wound. I thought-" he broke off, for once unwilling to speak his mind as tears blurred his vision.

"What do you think?" Logan prompted politely.

"I thought that maybe, if everyone kept telling me that I could change, eventually I would." Remus was staring intently at the ground, tears spilling down his face. "But I'm just the same. I'm not- I'm not good like the rest of you! Dee and Virge got to be better, but I'm still… Wrong." He was desperately trying to keep the tremors out of his voice, but he was painfully aware of every waver and crack in his voice as he spoke.

Without a moment's thought, an arm looped around Remus' waist and pulled him closer. Remus pressed against the other’s side instinctively, hands curling in the fabric of his shirt (careful not to tear it, of course). His words must have really struck a chord to elicit such a physical response from Logan of all people, something that was both worrying and weirdly comforting.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, cuddled together in the corner of the couch. After a while, the energy in the common room returned to its usual neutrality. When Logan finally broke the silence, Remus could hear him trying to keep the shake from his voice.

"Just so you know, we would not have invited you into this relationship if we expected you to be a different person. At least, that's the case for myself, though I’m sure the others would agree. You are here because you’re wanted here, Remus."

Remus grinned, exposing stained fangs. He looked more tired than his usual self, but the mischievous sparkle had returned to his eyes.

"Love you too, you Sexy Pocket Square."

“Thank you?”

5- Virgil

Virgil pulled his headphones on, sinking into the music of Pierce The Veil. It was uncomfortably loud in his ears, but he didn’t mind much. He was tense, that was obvious. Every few minutes, he felt himself relax just a bit, but there was always just a little more tension in him, like there was one taut muscle he just couldn’t pinpoint and pull loose. Virgil let his eyes fall closed for just a moment, breathing deeply. 4-7-8, 4-7-8.

Yeah, no, that was not helping. Virgil’s eyes popped back open and he slid one of the headphones behind his ear, breaking the immersion but maintaining awareness. He pressed his back to the wall harder, eyes darting around the room. Nothing was wrong, which was exactly why everything was wrong. Everything was just a little off, just a little strange and bad, and the anxious side had no idea what it was that caused the wrongness.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true; It was just commonplace anxiety. Which, in Virgil’s opinion, made it all the more distressing. He knew it wasn’t going away, not when he tried to make it. It would stop when it stopped, or didn’t, with Virgil helpless to control it. He took off his headphones. He put them back on. Off, on, off, on. Eyes closed, eyes open, eyes closed, eyes open. Nothing worked. He gingerly placed a hand over his chest, feeling the intense pounding of his heart. With a deep, shuddering breath, Virgil drew himself to his feet to go make some tea. Tea was good, safe, easy, understandable. He could make tea.

The anxious side wobbled on his feet, feeling dizzy and unfocused, as though reality was slipping through his fingers like frigid water. Another breath followed by a shudder and gently opened the door and walked slowly down the mindscape stairs. Had he always walked like this? Was that how he was supposed to move his arms? There was no way the stairs were always this steep.

Entering the kitchen, it took Virgil five full minutes to gather the energy to remember where the tea was. It took another eight to set up the mug and put on the kettle, stare at the kettle for a while, and realize it wasn’t turned on. Finally, determining that the water was in fact boiling, Virgil hopped up onto the counter to wait, sitting criss-cross.

A few more minutes passed, and Virgil began to notice that the silence was the very purposeful kind; the kind of quiet that was achieved by another presence deliberately being as silent as possible. He finally managed to focus his eyes on the table, at which sat one very confused looking Logan.

“When did you get here?” Virgil asked, internally cringing at the way his voice felt in his ears.

“Well, that can’t be good,” Logan replied, tipping his head to the side, “Are you alright?”

Fuck, he was right. Virgil was getting everything just a little wrong, of course Logan noticed it! Like hell he’d admit it, though. This had happened before, he could manage this on his own.

“I’m fine.” Virgil lied, catching the kettle as it began to shriek and pouring his tea.

“That’s funny,” Logan mused, looking back to his book, “I could have sworn you represented Anxiety, not Deceit.”

“Ha Ha.”

Virgil was spacing out again as the tea steeped, but it seemed Logan wasn't ready to drop the conversation. He snapped his book shut and he made his way across the room to stand in front of Virgil, keeping a respectful distance. The side’s hands were at his hips, his expression vaguely appraising. After a minute, Virgil began to squirm under the steady gaze.

“What?"

“You are extremely anxious.”

“No shit, L, what do you think I do here?”

Logan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Virgil immediately felt guilty for his biting tone.

“Maybe… I’m a little more on edge than usual.” Virgil admitted sheepishly, hopping off the counter to finish preparing the freshly brewed tea. Logan just hummed, staying quiet. An offering.

“I have no idea why, though,” The trait continued, picking at the frayed edge of his hoodie, “Everything feels wrong, and I don’t even know why.” Virgil's inability to articulate the feeling chewed at him, making him curl his toes in his shoes.

From behind, Logan gave an intake of breath as though to speak before cutting himself off. Virgil figured this was another prompt to vent, and hesitantly continued.

“So… I’m just trying to find some way to calm down? But everything I do just makes it worse. And it’s not new or anything, I just… it’s the kinda thing you don’t get used to, ya know? It comes out of nowhere and just fucks up my whole day. It’s like, I dunno- coming home and everything in your house is shifted one inch to the left, or whatever. It’s surreal, I guess.” Virgil sighed, pushing his violet bangs out of his eyes and leaning back against the counter. He took an experimental sip of tea and found it just cooled enough to endure. Something in his chest settled a little. A bit of normalcy crept it's way back into his vision.

Logan leaned next to him silently, looking to Virgil for permission before entwining their hands. Virgil drank his tea and let himself breathe for a moment. There was still a slight shake to his movements, but his heart had slowed and his head cleared a little. A small smile crossed his lips.

“How the hell did you do that?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Starlight.” Logan replied, ducking his head to hide his satisfied smile.

And the world felt a little more right.

Logan slid his glasses off his face, closing his eyes and groaning. He pushed his fingers against his eyelids and watched the dizzying bursts of color that kaleidoscoped across the darkness. He let his shoulders fall. He let himself stay like that for a few minutes, as though the insignificant little break could compare to a full night’s rest. Unsurprisingly, it only served to tire him more.

His glasses fell back into place and his hands resumed their positions at the sleek keyboard. Logan’s fingers hovered just above the keys, staring blankly at the spreadsheets laid out before him. His eyes glanced across the words uncomprehendingly. For a moment, he had the ridiculous thought that he had, in fact, never known how to read in the first place. The confusion was quickly replaced by a wave of frustration at his very humanoid need for sleep, which was then followed by an overwhelming surge exhaustion. It was the kind of tired that sunk down into your bones and made all of your limbs weigh as much as lead. Figuratively, of course.

Logan didn’t realize he was drifting off, head in hand, until a sharp knocking on his door startled him awake. He took a moment to push his hair back before calling out.

“Who is it?”

“Tis I, the handsome and valiant- Ow!" The drawling voice was cut off by a dull thudding sound.

"Take it down a notch, Ssshakessspeare," a second voice hissed in a poorly contained whisper, "Thisss iss ssssserious, you extra bitch."

Logan sighed, torn between feeling annoyed or feeling endeared. He stood and opened his door to find Roman and Deceit, standing side by side in the darkened hallway. Roman's hands were on his hips and his expression was challenging, while Deceit had all of his arms folded behind his back with a tired, exasperated smile. Logan felt guilt welling up in his chest, and quickly fought to suppress it.

“Can I help you? I'm very busy at the moment. there's some work I ought’ve finished last week that’s been stressing me.”

Deceit quirked a brow at that, a chuckle creeping into his words:

"Oh, it's obvious that you're stressed, Honey, you just uttered four consecutive contractions."

Logan felt his face heat, prompting another, rather derisive laugh from Deceit. The logical trait cleared his throat.

“I really need to be getting back to work.”

“Aha!” Roman exclaimed, louder than necessary, “Hippocrates!”

“Hypocrite, my love.” Deceit corrected.

“Hypocrite!”

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, sensing an argument brewing. He really did not have the time, or the energy, to fight. In fact, Logan noticed he was leaning fairly heavily on the framework for support.

“What’re- What are you talking about?”

“I believe he’s talking about the fact that you recently delivered a few heartfelt lectures on the dangers of bad self care habits to some particularly grateful sides, and now they’re here to return the favor,” Deceit’s smirk widened in that infuriating way of his as he spoke, “You hypocrite.”

With a sigh, Logan righted himself and offered the two a half-hearted glare.

"I don't suppose you would leave if I just promised to go to bed when you left?"

"Not a chance!" Roman called in unison with Deceit murmuring "I know when you're lying, love."

After offering a few feeble arguments about the importance of his work to the creative process, Logan let the two loop and arm each around his waist and usher him down the hallway. If they insisted on holding him hostage for an hour or so, then fine. He could slip away when they inevitably got distracted and return to his work and totally not pass out at his desk.

"We're back, my Loves! Oh, and Remus, I guess." Roman exclaimed, a bit louder than Logan's liking. The latter inspected the scene before him with a mixture of appreciation, affection, and immense frustration. Remus was balanced precariously on the arm of the couch, grinning up at them and- miraculously- fully clothed. Beside him was Virgil, curled into one corner of the couch with his arms looped around Remus' waist to keep him from falling over. He wore a sleepy smile as he looked at Logan (whose reserve was already crumbling). Even worse (better?), just returning into the room with a tray full of various cups of tea, coffee, and hot chocolate, was Patton. He turned to give Logan a smile brighter than the sun upon noticing him (figuratively).

"Heya! Cookies are almost ready,” He greeted, beginning to hand out the beverages. Roman and Deceit took their places in the steadily building cuddle pile, but Logan remained stiffly where he was.

“What are all of you doing?”

“We’re holding you hostage and watching nature documentaries until you fall asleep, because we love you,” Virgil explained, “Bitch.” he added for good measure.

Remus toppled off the arm of the couch into the others, opening his arms invitingly.

“If you don’t come lie down with us on this couch right now there will be blood, and tears.”

Logan took a tentative step forward. And another.

He supposed the schedule could come a bit late this week.

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liang-rexy · 5 years ago

Text

Stuff about my freaking AU. (That "Wings of The Ravens" AU) (Drawings were drawn in 2019)

The yellow-eyed monster is basically a robot, which is operated by a little creature (my OC) who hides inside of the machine.

I have a pretty long and quite detailed post about how I thought when I drew, and (probably) the analysis of black-and-white drawing (lineart) techniques, and shapes. Here's the link, and you can check it out if you're interested (you can see a photo of my dinner in the post as well…😂):

I'm not translating the whole post, since I don't want to write the analysis again (I'm afraid I'm too tired😂). And you can use a translator or something this time if you really are going to read it. 😂 Aside from my techniques and my analysis, I did talk about the contents of my drawings (silly concepts of this AU), in that post. And I will basically repeat the concepts I said there, with some a little bit more detailed information.

😂😂😂Well, the yellow-eyed monster is fluffy and soft. I wanted this weird thing to be one of those creepy haunted dolls at first. And this scene was gore when I thought about it. But when I actually drew it, I thought about Dan's motivation behind his action, and I realised that it wasn't really the right time to draw/show gore at that time. So it turned out to be sth more kid-friendly. The glowing green stuff is blood/ organs/ ectoplasm, but the monster is a machine, and that's kind of okay… 😂

And he finds out there's a little creature in the sticky stuff.

I also drew Dan in a Hazmat suit (without "DP" emblem). (I don't usually draw freaking hazmat suits… 😂) (The style doesn't stay exactly the same… 😂) (this drawing took me so long… It was hard to deal with lines. A change of the lines' length or angle would have a big influence on the final result… )

I wanted to draw upset little kids (and wanted to do some testing, too). I thought about upset kids again and again, and I really wanted to draw some (so I did). It's an AU anyway. This child doesn't feel good when he realises what happened to his counterpart(s?) and what he is.

Also, his tail is not supposed to have holes, but I wasn't able to draw nice curves (I wasn't patient enough). I've drawn this kind of tail before, since some other characters have sth like this. I did draw Danny having a ghostly tail with holes on on it (I didn't post that drawing though), and that kind of tail looks fine anyway. And his tongue is interesting (not that easy to draw/design though), and I like to draw it, but it probably freaks him out at first.

The following ones are quick drawings that I drew on Christmas. I didn't feel very well and was very sad the day before Christmas. I needed to cheer myself, so why not sketch some silly drawings. 😂

I was in a rush when I drew, because it was late at night, and I planned to post them on Christmas. And as a result, some lines look a bit messy.

I still didn't want to draw happy human Danny. But he has someone to comfort him this time.

I forgot to draw the bear's other two arms. In this AU , this is a female bear who has bear cubs ( The canon bear character doesn't have much information). She's a nice neighbor, and she has a job (or a few jobs) in Amity Park. There're other canon ghost characters who are regular people instead of being villains or minions in the AU.

(Most villains will be my OCs, in this case, I don't have to hurt original bad guys seriously… )

My OCs, Bella and Matty.

And more upset Daniel.

——————Rexy's 39th original post. （发布日期:2020. 02. 21. ）

#danny phantom #dark danny #dan phantom #danny fenton #au #wings of the ravens #渡鸦之翼 #oc #drawing #concept #concept art

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worldbuildguild · 6 years ago

Note

Hey guys it's me again! I was wondering if you have any ways to spruce up the stuff you draw. As in like, not drawing the same old thing and breaking out of your comfort zone. Thanks my dudes! Keep on plowing!

There’s a number of ways you can try to push yourself to do things you’re not used to. I’ll say it’s all about “ just doing it” , but naturally, it is easier to dabble in things outside your comfort zone if you have directives and an end goal. So here are a few exercises to get you experimenting.

Just remember, you’re not out for immediate results, you’re just trying new things.

Challenges:

The internet is full of drawing challenges that sets forward an agenda for what you’re supposed to draw at a given time. One of the more popular ones is Inktober, or some of it derivative versions ( see; Finktober, Kinktober, etc ).

These challenges push you to draw daily, which in turn will mean that you’ll exhaust your typical ideas eventually and possibly have you on to different motives.

https://gomedia.com/zine/inspiration/web-roundup/inktober-2016-inspiration/

Prompts: Drawing prompts are somewhat similar to challenges, as they lay down a set of contents for you to draw, often combining a vast majority of strange and curious subjects together. Like Inktober these can be completed with more or less time poured into each drawing. You can find prompts-lists for just about any art subject so just go googling for a bit.

https://theartofeducation.edu/2017/04/10/100-silly-drawing-prompts-engage-students/

Tracing exercises:

Tracing is a good way to exercise a new style, new compositions or subjects. And it’s very relaxing too. Especially in traditional media. Interchangeable, you can try to trace overworks using mediums different from the original, and then observe how different tools make for different expressions in the trace. Remember not to post your traces unless you have permission from the original’ creator. And always include credits and links to the original work.

https://www.wikihow.com/Draw-Manga-with-a-Tracing-Method

Sketchbooking:

I love sketchbooking, but I'm really bad at it! Bring a sketchbook where you go and scribble down the things you see in any way you like. Remember to do it quick! A sketchbook is not typically meant as a refined catalog of art. You can also grab your sketchbook and go out for the afternoon, sit on a street corner somewhere with a drink of choice and start sketching the people who walk by. Don’t worry about them looking, typically people don’t bother with you beyond a glance. If you’re really conscious about looking at strangers, you can wear sunglasses to obscure to the people around you who you’re looking at specifically.

https://www.edinburghdrawingschool.co.uk/home1?lightbox=dataItem-jmuhe160

Abstract exercises:

Exercises that forces you to work abstractly can be influential to your art style, and your way of perceiving figures generally. One popular exercise is drawing a random scribble on a piece of paper or a digital canvas and then turning sections ( or the entire thing ) into recognizable figures or characters.

https://patioyarddesign.com/

New inputs: If you’re looking to move out of your comfort zone, I can recommend consuming different media than you usually do. This can give you fresh, new perspectives and new terminology to work with within your style and craft. And generally, it’s just a breath of fresh air to try reading/watching/listening to something new.

https://www.sweetyhigh.com/read/how-to-start-reading-comics-050117

Gesture drawing:

If gesture drawing is not already somehow part of your typical drawing routine then I recommend getting into it. If you don’t have a studio or money to attend croquis sessions, then there are numerous pose-generators and croquis service online that can give you several poses to work from. Try to vary the amount of time you are allowed to spend on each drawing as well. Somewhere between 10 seconds - to 1 minute is the typical sweet spot for many artists to get the clearest and most dynamic gestures out.

https://www.proko.com/gesture-vs-proportion-time/

Memes: Memes are fun and easy. Redraw or draw your characters on top of bases made by other artists, to depict your favorites doing all sorts of things. This is a good little timewaster, but it can help you assimilate your style with the style on display, as you would want to incorporate your added visuals - with the base your using. You can find these lying all around the internet. Just search “ drawing “ or “ art meme “ and you ‘ll probably find them quickly.

https://imgur.com/gallery/zhk9D/comment/872192991

New methods:

There’s another type of meme/challenge out there that I personally enjoy a whole bunch. Say that you have a bunch of online art friends, you can take a little bit to study their styles by replicating them on your own character. These forms can be found on Deviantart, but has also emerged on regular googles searches. You can also find similar challenges that ask you to draw in the style of popular shows or the style of popular artists or art epokés. Give ‘em a look.

https://www.pinterest.es/pin/573364596285474078/?lp=true

New media:

https://www.boredpanda.com/super-detailed-ink-drawings-pavneet-sembhi/?utm_source=google&utm_medium=organic&utm_campaign=organic

Trying your hands on new mediums is a refreshing ( and sometimes frustrating ) way to get new perspectives on your native style and method. If you’re usually doing digital, get back to your pencil and paper. Or swap it out for liquid inks, watercolor or pastels.

Keeping it private ( or not ): keeping it loose: You are by no means bound to publish anything at all. Especially not your little homegrown experiments. If you’re not satisfied with how something looks, and you don’t want nobody to see it - don’t publish it. But don’t throw it away either. Your observations now can become valuable later. A lot of my really experimentative stuff is mostly kept private and sits in little sketchbooks on my bookshelf. They’re not for the world to see - at least not at this point in time.

And as I mentioned before, remember to keep it playful. Don’t hold yourself to any standard whatsoever. You’ll only end up frustrated. Take it from someone whose entire study-career has been all about experimenting and throwing stuff on the wall to see what sticks.

- mod wackart ( ko-fi )

#marshmallow-memelord #ask #mod wackart #excersizes #style dynamics #classical art #theredlinestation

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motiongraphicsdeantemjit · 7 years ago

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Week 5 & 6 - Mini Animation Project

For this week’s task, we are going to create an animation based on what we’ve learnt over the past few weeks. Moreover, we only have one week to create the animation, and so we’ve decided to use Roald Dahl’s work for the animation. Furthermore, we also do have the option to choose which quote we are going for, and I chose a quote from ‘Fantastic Mr Fox’.

'Boggis and Bunce and Bean One fat, one short, one lean. These horrible crooks So different in looks Were none the less equally mean.'

Source: https://www.thebookpeople.co.uk/webapp/wcs/stores/servlet/article?articleId=100-roald-dahl-quotes

The reason I chose this quote was that it is engaging and I can create an animation that could look interesting as well. At this point, I already have a few ideas in mind as to what I wanted to develop. However, before I can even begin to create the animation in Adobe After Effect, I’d need to create quick sketches of my ideas first.

I drew small thumbnails of a storyboard to quickly generate ideas, rather than doing a big drawing as it could take me a long time. For my first idea, I wanted to use simple geometric shapes for the animation. As shown in the image below, Boggis is a circle, Bunce is a triangle, and Bean is a rectangle. These shapes show their appearance such as circle is round and big, meaning fat. For the triangle, I could make it smaller to fit the appearance of Bunce, while Bean is a rectangle as he is described as being lean.

I have an idea to create the transition between the characters using the techniques called, ‘Morphing’. What it does is converting one shape to another, which is perfect for this particular animation.

Another idea I’ve generated is turning Boggis, Bunce, and Bean into bird characters. The reason was that I wanted this animation to have a sense of humour into it to create interests, and I turn them into birds to do just that, as I could create the birds to have funny appearances.

The next thing I did was coming up with a mood board showing all the interesting appearances of the birds and what colour schemes I am going to be using.

Once I have the mood board set, I then coming up with quick sketches of the birds. I’d also have to take their appearances into the considerations as Boggis is fat, Bunce is short, and Bean is lean. I didn’t want to draw the characters too complicated as I’d have to re-create it in Adobe Illustrator again.

Once the characters have been designed, I then create a mini-storyboard showing all the ideas of how it all going to connect and my planning in general.

I have also decided to go with my second idea as I thought it was pretty funny and engaging to the audience. I knew that by going with the second idea, it would be time-constraint as I’d have to create all the assets in Illustrator, and then animating it in After Effect. Not to mention, this mini project’s deadline is in one week, however, to compensate that - it was a great choice going for a simple character's design as this would save me a tremendous amount of time designing it in Adobe Illustrator.

In Adobe Illustrator, I have created all of the assets with each feature in separate layers. The reason why I do this was, for instance - if I wanted to have the wing and tail move, I’d need to have these in separate layers as Adobe After Effect will not recognise each feature that is in the same layer; therefore, I have to do it manually.

Furthermore, I created different variations to experiment with colours and how the birds are going to be displayed. Moreover, I decided to go with the bottom ones as I really like the outline of the character, which has a drawing feel to it, and it makes it perfect for this particular animation.

The next thing I did was create assets for the close-up shot, and an introduction to the characters at the beginning.

As for the transition between each scene, I decided to use different variations of plants covering up the composition which later on changes the scene once the plant has been moved out of the composition. This creates an entertaining and engaging animation to the audience, and it fit perfectly with the simplistic characters that I have designed.

The creation process for these plants assets is the same. It was created in Adobe Illustrator while making sure that each plant is in its own individual layers. In extension to that, I went a step further ahead and exported these assets into Adobe Photoshop so that I can add textures into them to create interests as opposed to having just a plant vector with no textures.

Once all of the assets are made and exported into Adobe After Effect, it is time for me to animate it. However, there are a few things that need to be considered and prepare before that. For instance, the character assets that I have exported - I need to make sure that the assets are layered correctly and are placed in the correct orders. After that, I need to parent some of the assets to the body of the character so that it moved as a whole, and finally - making sure that the anchor points are placed in the correct position to where I want to animate from. In addition to that, I need to make sure to pre-composed all the layers as this will keep everything organised.

Once everything is in order and placed correctly for all of the assets, from the characters to the plants. It is now time for me to animate. It may seem really confusing and intimidating given how there are a lot of assets to use for the animation and a lot of planning and timing involved. However, at a time like this, it is always best to have a storyboard at hands so that I will know exactly what I need to be doing first and break it down into step-by-step.

Following the storyboard, the first scene that I need to be animating is a close-up and an introduction scene for Boggis. This is really simple to get started as there are not a lot of moving elements for this scene, except for his eyes and hair. I animated his eye using the position keyframes while making sure that the keyframes are placed at a distance from each other to get the timing correct, and overall, make it look natural. As for his hair, it is a little simple, and all I have used is the rotation keyframe to animate slight movements.

As for the animation for Bunce, I tried to make it funny by only displaying the top of his head, given how he is described as being short. This one is also easy to animate as well as the only element that I need to be animating is his hair. I wanted his hair to have subtle wiggle movements, and to do that - I am going to use the tool called ‘Puppet Position Pin Tool’. This tool allows me to freely manipulate his hair using the pin indicator. I placed one pin at the tip of his hair while the other one is behind the head. To animate it, I move the tip of his hair to the desired position while moving the keyframes to get the action in.

Meanwhile, for Bean, I didn’t want to animate anything as I thought it would be funny this way. I tried to also make it funny for Bean by making him so tall that he could hardly fit into the scene - which is why I decided not to animate anything.

The next step for me is to animate a fast moving scene where the character is described by their appearances. To do this, I created a floor in Adobe Photoshop to illustrate where the character should be standing, and I will also be animating only the floor. The way I go about making this is positioned the character at the centre and parent it to the floor. This way, when I animate the position keyframe of the floor, the character will move with it.

To animate the floor, all I did was use the position keyframe and carefully planned out the distance between each keyframe to make the movement natural. I then set the easy ease to smooth out the animation.

At this point, I realised that not animating the character would look dull and plain. It was a good idea to make a fast-moving introduction of the characters. However, I wanted to make it look even more natural, and the best way to go about this is animating the character when the floor moves back and forth.

What this means is that when the floor come into the scene, I will be animating the character’s body position, the character’s neck, and tail. These slight movements can have significant changes in the animation that I have created as it gives the character a personality and made it look more dynamic.

To properly explain this, what I mean by animating the neck and body position is when the floor is moving so fast into the scene, the character will actually be leaning backwards as well as his neck. I will be animating it the opposite when the floor suddenly made a stop - this will give the animation a sense of speed.

Once completed, I repeated the process for Bunce and Bean and ready to move on to the next scene. As for the next scene, I will be animating this part from the quote: “These horrible crooks. So different in looks.”

For this scene, it is easy for me as I didn’t have to animate anything, but rather position the character correctly. I will be re-using the characters I have already animated for this scene as it would save me a tremendous amount of time. I placed the character right next to one another and pre-composed all of the layers. I then animate the pre-composed layer using the position keyframe to create the panning effect.

To finish the animation off, the last animation will require extra attention and detail as I have to animate all three of the characters individually. The final scene quote is: “Were none the less equally mean.”, and to animate this part - I wanted to make the characters looking silly and doing silly things which were supposed to be funny.

For Boggis, I made him look like he was dancing by moving up and down. I animated him by using the position keyframe and set the distance equal to one another to create a consistency movement. I also animated his neck by using the rotation keyframe, as well as his tail. As for his wings, I made it look like he was flapping his wing twice by animating the scale to about -100% and this gives the illusion that his wing is actually flapping.

For Bunce, I made him trying to fly for a short distance and back down to the floor again. The animation in itself is simple as all I did was animate him flying using the position keyframe, while making sure that I get his wing flapping correct. As he ascends from the floor, his wing will be flapping really hard, some in mid-air, and some of it as he’s slowly descending to the floor again.

Moreover, I have also animated his body and neck position using the rotation keyframe to make it look natural. For instance, If Bunce were to fly to the left side, his body language would need to move to the left as well as his neck as this signifies that he is moving left. This also makes the animation looked more natural and dynamic which is fundamental and note not to miss out on.

For Bean, I animated him similar to how I animated Boggis as I really want to make him do a funny and silly dance. Bean was animated using only the rotation keyframe such as his body, feet, tail, and neck. There isn’t anything complicated for Bean animation process at all.

Last but not least, for the transition animation - this is something that will be taking me the most time as I would have to animate the plants individually and there are about nine plants in total. I also think that I can get away by copying the keyframes to save time and changes some of it to create variations.

The plants will be animated using the position keyframes as well as the rotation keyframe to make it appear to cover the composition. It is rather a simple process but time-consuming. Moreover, I could also easily turn these keyframes into easy ease to save time. However, I really wanted to go the extra mile and make the animation look more dynamic, and to that - I decided to use the graph editor.

I can easily manipulate the motion between each keyframe to my desire using the graph editor, and it is a very useful tool in creating a beautiful animation. I wanted some of the plants to move into the composition slowly, while some move in quickly to create different variations. Moreover, I need to pay extra attention to details and see the movement between each keyframe as I really want the plant to flow smoothly, and no sudden movements.

While I was at it, I also animated some of the particles that came flying when the plants move into the scene. This was created easily using the ellipse and rectangle shapes available in Adobe After Effect. I then use the position keyframes to move the particles in random places. Moreover, this was done individually, which is why it took me an amount of time to complete, but nonetheless - I am satisfied with the subtle movements in the animation which makes it look ten times better without the particles.

Moreover, I also repeated some of the particle processes by pre-composing it and duplicating the layers - changing the position and rotation of the pre-composed layer to create different variations.

I have also added some plants into the final scene to create some interests into the scene and visually make it look colourful as opposed to having just the birds there.

Once the animation is completed, the next step I did was render the animation into a movie file and importing the movie file into Adobe Premiere Pro. The reason why I imported it to there was that I wanted to add music and sound effects into the animation, and the best place for me to do that was in Premiere Pro. Sure, I could also do it in After Effect, however, since the project is layered with different assets and all of the pre-composed layers, I thought it would confuse me in the process. Besides, I already have prior knowledge on how to use Adobe Premiere Pro anyway, which makes it my choice into adding the sound effect.

This is a list of websites I used to get my soundtracks and sound effects:

Zapsplat

Freesound

dig.ccMixter

Final animation:

youtube

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hysterialevi · 7 years ago

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When the Devil Cries pt. 4

Author’s note: I know I’ve said this already, but thank you so much for reading this story. I wasn’t really sure how this fanfic would go at first, but you guys have been very supportive since part one, and I really appreciate it. Hope you enjoy this part as well :)

From Arthur’s POV

OUTSIDE LEMOYNE NATIONAL BANK

Pacing to the other end of town, Dutch and I slithered our way through the groups of lawmen patrolling around Saint Denis as we hurried to find Hosea at the bank, keeping a low profile and eager to get back to camp.

At this point, the city was entirely awake, and all around us, we could see both men and women calling out to passersby as they advertised their merchandise, campaigns, charities, and more. It was quite the sight. Sure weren’t like anythin’ I’d ever seen.

We had already come across some rich fool by the side of the road who was hollerin’ at people to buy his book that would apparently lead folks to instant success, as well as some waste of space claimin’ that the white race was the only “correct” one, and that the blacks and Indians were nothing but animals. It was science, he said.

Well, last time I checked, “science” was the same thing trying to turn cannons and bicycles with balloons into forms of transportation. So that didn’t exactly count for much in my book.

On a more pleasant note though, I did also see a woman standing outside City Hall advocating for women’s right to vote. It wasn’t something I could see happening anytime soon, and her ideas of a female president within the next ten years seemed a bit far off, but there weren’t no shame in searching for a better world. I only hoped she had some sort of protection out there in the open. Not everyone was taking her proposals kindly.

As for Dutch -- well, ever since the man found me about an hour ago, he had been chewing my ear off about his plan to pick Saint Denis clean of its money before packin’ our bags and heading off to Tahiti or some place.

I wasn’t quite sure how that would work exactly, and if I was being perfectly honest, the west sounded like a much better area to lie low, but...I wasn’t really thinkin’ about any of that anyway.

The only thing on my mind at the moment...was Edward.

I couldn’t get that melody he played out of my head, and the man himself wasn’t easy to forget either.

I didn’t know why, but somethin’ about that boy just stuck with me. His words, his personality, his music...it preoccupied me completely. It almost felt like I was still sittin’ there by his piano.

Despite my pleasant thoughts about him though, I couldn’t deny I was a bit concerned about Dutch’s plans to rob the theater. I mean, I knew there was probably hundreds of dollars sittin’ in there and Edward and I were barely acquaintances, but it still seemed...I dunno, wrong to go behind his back like that. Especially right after doing a favor for him.

But I supposed that was the life of an outlaw. I could never truly befriend honest folk, or get along with them. I could only lie to ‘em.

“Hosea, old man!” Dutch called out suddenly, bringing my attention back to reality.

Hosea was sitting on a bench not too far away from the bank with a newspaper in his hands -- more as a mask than actual reading material -- and waved at us as we approached him, keeping our voices low.

“Ah, Dutch, Arthur,” he greeted, folding the newspaper. “There you are. How did you fellas get along?”

Dutch leaned against a nearby street lamp and crossed his arms. “Arthur here thinks he might be onto somethin’ about an upcoming gala. Heard some woman in the Bastille rambling on about it...and I’ve got a few ideas of my own on that theater as well. What about you? How’s the bank looking?”

Hosea rose to his feet. “Pretty much what you’d expect. Lots of money, and even more security to protect it. It also happens to be in the middle of the city. So if we’re gonna hit it, Dutch, we’ll need every gun we have. But if we can pull it off right, I guarantee it’ll be worth it. The vault’s got thousands of bucks just waitin’ in it. Enough to get us out of here.”

The other man nodded in contemplation. “Alright, then. Well, let’s head back to camp...and I’ll tell you all about this theater once we get there. I really think this could be quite the opportunity for us, but we don’t have too long to plan for it, so we need to move fast. C’mon.”

SHADY BELLE

DUTCH’S OFFICE

“Okay, gentlemen,” Dutch said eagerly, gathering us outside his room. “I have a plan. And this is a good one.”

Hosea and I exchanged looks, feeling both a little nervous and excited at the same time as we took a seat on the ornate couch.

“Well, what’ve you got in mind?” Hosea asked.

Dutch grinned, holding a finger up. “I did some investigating, and apparently there’s gonna be a show at the Râleur in two days. Lots of tourists are gonna come pilin’ in, and all the money will be sitting right at the front door while everyone else inside is distracted by the show. It’s the perfect time for us to slip in and swipe the cash. Which means the best way for us to do this is by makin’ as little noise as possible...”

He glanced at me. “...Arthur.”

I sighed in annoyance. “...Jesus, I get it.”

Dutch let out a hearty laugh. “That is the last time I’ll mention it. I promise. Anyway, I’m thinkin’ we bring in a small group. Go in quick and quiet. We don’t wanna barge into the theater, armed to the teeth. Remember, the goal here is to cause as little alarm as we can. We’ll probably disguise some of you as employees, too -- that way, you can keep watch while the others focus on the robbing.”

Hosea nodded. “And who’s doing what?”

“Hmm. Well, we don’t want anyone too tough looking to dress as the employees,” Dutch explained. “I think I’ll get Kieran to be one of them. You too, Hosea.”

“What ‘bout me?” I questioned.

“You...are gonna be doing the robbing. My plan is for you and Mary-Beth to enter the theater together. Pretend you’re a couple out to see a show. But don’t walk up to the ticket booth until it’s empty. That way, no one will be around to see what you’re really doing.”

I raised a brow. “Me and Mary-Beth?”

Hosea chuckled. “That poor girl has her eyes on you, Arthur. Everyone in camp can see that. Least it’ll make this job easier for her.”

I shrugged. “So, what, we just walk up to the ticket booth and take the money while everyone’s watchin’ the show?”

“That’s the idea for now,” Dutch confirmed. “But I’m still working out the details. In the meantime: Hosea, you keep focusing on that bank. And Arthur, see what else you can learn about the gala -- where it’s located, how we get in...things like that.”

“On it.”

The man smirked. “Good. Saint Denis will be our ticket outta this country, boys. I can feel it. We just need one, last score...and we’re gone for good. But it won’t help anything if you lose your faith. So stay with me. Both of you. The gang may be strong, but we’re nothing if we don’t work together.”

Hosea and I gave Dutch a firm, honest look.

“We ain’t goin’ nowhere, Dutch,” I said. “We got your back.”

Dutch began making his way out of the room, glancing at us over his shoulder before he headed out the door.

“I know.”

A FEW HOURS LATER

THAT NIGHT

Sitting on my bed, I mindlessly doodled in my journal while the rest of the gang chatted at the campfire outside, sketching the night away as I waited for another long day of work tomorrow.

Normally I drew things like horses, plants, landscapes...just stuff I came across while wandering around. But today, I found myself scratching down wobbly images of pianos, random music notes, and of course...Edward.

By now, it was honestly frustratin’ me that I couldn’t tear my mind away from him. Why the hell was I so captivated by that man? I mean, I had met much more prominent people in the past.

I had seen people who were retired gunslingers, civil war veterans, slave catchers, dinosaur bone hunters -- hell, I’d even come across a couple who were brother and sister.

Why was one pianist so interesting to me? Ain’t like he was the first musician I’d ever met.

I guessed...I guessed it was because he was so different from everyone else.

Most people I talked to always hid behind some kind of pretense. Acted polite and well-mannered on the outside, and danced around saying what they was really thinking...but Edward, he already seemed to know me better than I even knew myself. Within just a few minutes of talking with the boy, he had already come to the conclusion that I was a better man than I thought.

And based on what? Ramming into him? Makin’ a mess of his notes? Covering his clothes in mud?

Mister Ryan definitely had a unique idea of “good,” that was certain. I just hoped I could live up to it.

“Um, Arthur?”

Flicking my eyes upward at the sudden intrusion, I paused mid-action when I realized Mary-Beth was standing just outside the doorway, her head poking inside with a puzzled expression as she stared at me. I put my journal down.

“Oh, Mary-Beth. Did you...need something?”

The woman walked into the room. “No. I was just...walkin’ by when I overheard you singing. I was curious, is all. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

I froze in confusion. “Singing? What you mean?”

She giggled. “You were humming, Arthur. You didn’t notice? I guess that’s good. When you hum, it means you’re in a good mood.”

I bashfully looked away from the young woman instantly, admittedly a tad embarrassed.

When did I even start humming? Who else had heard me, if anyone? Christ, I hoped Uncle wasn’t sleepin’ on the floor downstairs again. Otherwise I’d never hear the end of this. That, and his goddamned lumbago.

“I, ah...” my voice faltered sheepishly, “...I didn’t notice. Sorry to disturb you.”

Mary-Beth waved a dismissive hand. “You weren’t disturbin’ me, you silly man. It was a pretty tune. Where’d you hear it?”

I pretended it was nothing. “Ah, just some song I must’ve heard somewhere or the other.”

She smiled in a way that said she knew I was lying, but dropped the subject anyway.

“Well, I’m just glad you’re feelin’ alright. This gang needs you to stay strong, Arthur. Dutch needs you. More than you may think.”

I stood up from the bed, placing my journal on the nightstand.

“Oh, I’m sure Dutch would manage just fine without me, but...that’s kind of you, Mary-Beth.”

She began to take her leave. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Stay safe out there, Arthur. Things is gettin’ pretty crazy -- both inside and outside of camp -- so be careful, okay?”

I escorted Mary-Beth out into the corridor, saying a quick goodbye to her.

“Yes, ma’am.”

The woman slid a hand along the staircase’s railing, looking up at me before stepping down.

“Good. I know our situation’s been tough recently, and I can’t deny that I’m scared too...but I know you and Dutch will pull us through. You always do.”

I nodded confidently. “And we will again.”

Mary-Beth descended the stairs, leaving me alone in the hallway.

“Of that, I have no doubt,” she was quiet for a second. “Good night, Arthur. These moments of peace that bore us now, are what we’re gonna be wishin’ for in a bit. Take care of yourself. We ain’t losin’ anybody else.”

I waved her goodbye.

“...No. We ain’t.”

THE NEXT MORNING

Waking up to the sound of Karen and Grimshaw yelling -- again -- I fluttered my eyes open to a slit, only to be blinded by a strong beam of sunlight that was seeping through the broken window.

I was facedown in my pillow, and judging by the brazen snoring I heard comin’ from downstairs, I weren’t the only one still dreaming. Despite wanting to sleep more though, I decided to head out for Saint Denis now, while the streets were still quiet.

The sun had barely warmed up the sky yet, but all this arguing and fretting at camp right now was makin’ me want to be just about anywhere else. I understood that folks were afraid, and I woulda been lyin’ if I said I wasn’t -- but there was only so much worrying one man could take.

Retrieving my hat, I strapped my belt on and threw my satchel over my shoulder, making sure everything was in place and stretching a bit before striding out of the room.

Fortunately, there weren’t really anyone awake yet to distract me or hold me back from leaving, and the weather seemed clear enough today.

The clouds were thin and the morning sun was just beginning to float above the purple horizon, painting the world around us with a nice, red tint.

It was the perfect time to ride out.

SAINT DENIS

Urging my horse to slow down, I began trotting into the city ahead of me as I was forced to adjust to civilized life, keeping a mental note that it actually mattered what the hell you was wearin’ out here.

Usually, I just wore a simple, loose shirt and a roughed-up pair of pants, but for the sake of blending in, I had stuffed myself into some itchy vest this morning along with a nicer set of trousers I didn’t even remember purchasing.

For a minute I felt like a walking joke on display for everyone to laugh at, but then I remembered the people around me looked even weirder. Women with gowns wider than the streets, and men with hats that made them an entire foot taller...big cities were definitely not the place for me. I didn’t mind the money, though.

Steadily trotting through the roads, I glanced to my side when I noticed the Râleur coming up on the left, the brightly-lit building immediately catching my attention.

It was indeed quite a view, just like Edward said. Through the tall, glass doors, I could see a luxurious chandelier hanging from the high ceiling, giving the lobby an intense, golden glow as its light reflected off the decorated walls and waxed floors. And browsing through the posters plastered outside the theater, it looked like he weren’t kidding about those fire-breathing people.

Apparently, they had some lady from Bavaria who was stronger than a bull, a duo consisting of a tiny magician and child giant, a man called Benjamin Lazarus who could escape death, and a group of dancers from France who...oh, my.

Well, I didn’t know if it was really my kind of entertainment, but I was definitely considering seeing that show with Edward in it. If the song he performed for me was anythin’ to go by, then his show would be something to remember. I just wished I had the time to stop by.

“Well, hello there, Mister ‘Not a Cowboy!”

Whipping around towards the sound of the voice, I felt a smile sneak its way onto my face when I saw none other than the pianist himself strolling up to me as if on queue...alongside another man whom I hadn’t met yet. I hopped off my mount.

“I see my terrible sarcasm rubs off on people fast,” I greeted Edward with a chuckle, closing the distance between us. “How you doing, Mister Ryan?”

The musician scoffed. “I’m from England, mate. If anything, it was my sarcasm that rubbed off on you. But...I’m doing as well as one can in this city. And what about you, Mister Morgan? I hope Saint Denis is treating you okay.”

I shrugged. “I’m about the same as the last time you saw me.”

Edward seemed pleased. “That’s good to hear.” He turned to the man beside him.

“Err, Mister Middleton, this is the man I told you about earlier. He’s a traveler I ran into yesterday. Quite literally, actually. He’s the one who helped me out with my new composition.”

I brought my focus to Middleton, admittedly feeling somewhat out of place compared to their suits and ties.

“Arthur Morgan.” I introduced casually. The man gave me a stern glare.

I couldn’t quite pinpoint it just yet, considering I’d only met him, but something about Edward’s companion just...put me off.

Not only did he have a permanently sour expression hiding behind his groomed mustache, there was also a certain...glint in his dead, gray eyes that reminded me of Strauss. And everyone knew how I felt about that creep. Only difference was, this man actually looked like he was capable of giving out a beating himself.

The man held out a stiff hand.

“...Thatcher Middleton,” he replied bluntly. He had the same accent as Edward. “Pleasure to meet you.”

I reluctantly grabbed his hand, gesturing to the hardened frown on his face. “Try not to smile too hard there, partner. You, uh...another pianist?”

He shook his head, completely ignoring my remark. “No. I have nothing to do with that business. I’m merely a...” there was an odd pause, “...friend of Mister Ryan’s.”

I glanced side to side, not quite sure what to make of that.

“...I see.”

Picking up on the tension between us, Edward quickly jumped in, changing the subject.

“I noticed you were checking out the theater, Mister Morgan. Are you thinking about watching one of the shows?”

I gladly took my attention off Middleton, shifting my feet awkwardly. “I am, actually. I was considerin’ that show you mentioned to me. The one tomorrow?”

The pianist’s face radiated with excitement. “Oh, yes. Well, like I said, I’d love to see you there. I won’t be the only act tomorrow night, but it will be the first time I’m performing on my own. I confess I’m a tad nervous.”

I chuckled. “I ain’t heard much of your work, but if that song you showed me is anythin’ like your others...you’ll be fine.”

Edward didn’t appear any less anxious, but hid it nonetheless. “Thank you. You’re too kind, Mister Morgan.”

I laughed at that. “If you say so.”

Flattening this friendly moment with his grumpy tone, Middleton spoke up once more as he threw an almost threatening gaze in Edward’s direction, his eyes piercing through the shadow cast by his bowler hat.

“Well, I can see you’re busy, Edward. We’ll discuss this more later. In the meantime, I’ll be returning to my house if you need me. I have many matters to attend to.” Middleton barely looked at me, briefly bowing his head as a goodbye. “...Mister Morgan.”

I returned the dull farewell. “Middleton.”

Skulking off into the busy city, the man vanished like a phantom in the thick crowds as Edward and I watched him leave, both of us feeling somewhat unnerved after that chat.

“Charmin’ feller, ain’t he?” I muttered.

Edward crossed his arms. “He wouldn’t know charm if it died in his bed. Though, I suppose it already has.”

I smirked at the pianist. “I take it you weren’t waltzin’ around with him by choice?”

He sighed. “Oh, definitely not. You’ve no idea how grateful I am that I found you. In fact, I’d much rather waltz with you, Mister Morgan.” Edward stuttered after that, as if realizing what he just said. “Erm, i-if that’s alright, of course. Want to grab a drink? We did meet at a saloon, after all.”

I shrugged in a “why not” manner.

“Sure,” I agreed. “Oh, and call me Arthur, would you?”

Edward appeared much more relieved now. “And you can call me Edward. Or Eddie, if you prefer. People call me both.”

I beamed at him, the two of us strolling side-by-side as we diverted our path to the Bastille.

“Eddie it is,” I replied. “Y’know, I think you’re the most sensible Englishman I’ve met so far.”

“You’ve met others, have you?”

I adjusted my hat. “Well, aside from you and Middleton, I’ve only met one out here. And his name was Margaret.”

A brief laugh escaped Eddie. “You sound like you’ve had your fair share of adventures. Perhaps it’s your turn to entertain me with story today.”

We hugged a corner, turning onto a new street.

“Ah, I dunno ‘bout that. I ain’t...I ain’t so good with words.”

Eddie persisted. “You don’t need words to tell a story, Arthur. Words...are overrated. In the end, your actions are what speak for you.”

I grinned at him, the two of us stopping at the edge of a sidewalk as we waited to cross.

“You, sir, possess a wisdom that I have yet to find.”

Eddie remained unconvinced that I was as dumb as I made myself out to be and simply rolled his eyes, beckoning me as we spoke with each other like a pair of old friends.

For some reason, whenever I was around Eddie, I felt like I didn’t have to hide nothing. The boy seemed to be drawn to me no matter how much I talked down about myself, and every time we crossed paths, he acted as if we’d known each other for a lifetime already.

I...enjoyed the time I spent with him.

I was only worried that this upcoming robbery would ruin our friendship. I mean, it was obvious how much this meant to Eddie, and lord knew how long he’d been preparing for this, but it was something I just had to go through with.

Then again, I guessed I always had the option to expose the plan, but...I could never do that. Not with the gang counting on me. Or Dutch. The old man was already paranoid we had a rat within the camp. The last thing I needed was to make him think it was me.

Well, I supposed all I could do was enjoy this relationship while it lasted. Eddie was too good of a man to be with me anyway. It was probably for the best if he kept his distant from an outlaw such as myself.

...Probably.

#red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #eddie ryan #oc #fanfic #story

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lalainajanes · 7 years ago

Note

96 & 81. I’m a new fan of your writing! Ugh I love klaroline so much

96 Scars + 81 The Missus and The Ex

She’s known Klaus forabout a year, has recently been out on three excellent dates with him, when shefinds out his deep dark secret.

She'd have beenpissed it but it’s too freaking hilarious for her to work up any righteousindignation.

One quick Google andCaroline gets why he’d kept his mouth shut. She’d made some questionablechoices at nineteen, ones she’s really glad aren’t immortalized on the internetforever.

Klaus Mikaelson, ubersnob about popular culture, prickly unless sufficiently motivated, and scornfulof vast swathes of humanity, had once starred on a reality TV show.

And not just anyreality TV show. He’d been on what had essentially been a Jersey Shore rip-off.Just set in a swanky London apartment and with fancy accents. It had onlylasted one season.

The partying anddrunken fights and hookups appear to be pretty much the same.

Klaus had sportedhighlights and worn baggy t-shirts and baseball caps and belted his pants toshow off his boxers. Teen!Caroline probably would have thought he was hot butpresent day Caroline has a plan to slip some cheap ribbed tanks and self-tannerinto Klaus’ birthday gifts.

His exasperated faceis super cute.

She’d taken thebombshell pretty well and Klaus had endured her giggling over old pictures (toa point but Caroline wasn’t going to complain about him kissing her as adistraction).

When she’d gottenhome it had been impossible to resist pulling out her laptop and looking forclips.

And when it turnedout the series was all online? Well, she’d ordered takeout and settled in for amarathon.

Six episodes in andshe’s kind of obsessed. The version of Klaus on her screen is fascinating. Shesees tiny glimmers of the man she knows but he also seems to be a bit of ajerk. He sneakily leaves little sketches of his roommates on their beds. Thenot so flattering ones cause some drama and the good ones end up pinned in thecommunal kitchen. He oozes cockiness and has a tendency to flex when he’sshirtless, sometimes walks in a way that could only be called a swagger.

He flirts shamelesslybut his interest in one of his housemates seems genuine. Unfortunately, she’salready in a relationship.

Caroline has amillion questions, starting with why in the world had he ever even auditioned,and she’s considering making a list.

Caroline (9:14 PM): I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were involved in AN ACTUAL LOVETRIANGLE!

Caroline (9:14 PM): I’m kinda jealous.

Caroline (9:15 PM): I’m think I’m rooting for Lucien though. Sorry. He’s just so freakinginto her.

Caroline (9:15 PM): Making out with Aurora’s visiting BFF was a dick move, btw.

Klaus (9:17 PM): Sadly, that was far from the worst of my poor decisions.

Caroline (9:18 PM): Oooh, ominous.

Caroline (9:18 PM): I’m excited.

Klaus (9:19 PM): I don’t suppose I could convince you to stop watching?

Caroline (9:20 PM): Are offering me sexual favours? ;)

Klaus (9:20 PM): Obviously.

Caroline (9:21 PM): Sorry, I’ve gotta pass. Something tells me you’re going to be pretty easy.

Caroline (9:22 PM): But don’t worry. I promise not to hold anything you did 9 years agoagainst you.

Klaus (9:23 PM): I appreciate that.

She starts up episodeseven. It opens the morning after Klaus’ attempt to make Aurora jealous, thecamera lingering on him in bed, very naked under a single crumpledsheet.

Is it pervy thatshe’s ogling him? Probably, since he’d been practically a baby.

Klaus is awakenedrudely by Aurora upending a large-ish bucket of water on him, he leaps from thebed, shouting slurred profanities.

Screw it, Carolinethinks, as she turns up the brightness on her screen and leans in, eyeing theareas where the wet sheet now clings. No one has to know about the ogling.

Aurora and BabyKlausengage in a fight that is loud and rambling and Caroline thanks whateverproduction grunt had been tasked with painstakingly subtitling it. Aurora triesto cite friend code, Klaus counters that she has a boyfriend so it really isn’ther business what (or whom) he does. He scoffs at her assertion that he’d beentrying to hurt her, smiling cruelly and informing Aurora that she’s just notthat important.

Caroline winces whenAurora bursts into tears. Klaus’ regret is plain but he storms away withoutapologizing.

She fast forwardsthrough some plot involving other housemates, pauses when she sees Klaus again.He’s at the club they seem to hang out at most, the kind with pumping music andflashing lights. Caroline assumes the venue had some kind of deal with theproducers. He’s slamming back shots, his mood less than festive, and Carolineassumes he’s about to do something dumb.

Approximately thirtyseconds later the camera captures him punching Lucien.

Angry drunk boys, sopredictable.

It’s chaos on herscreen, other people seem to pile on and the cameras are constantly jostled.Caroline can barely make out who is who. Aurora’s red hair is distinct, andshe’s in the corner of the frame, yelling, having climbed on the bar.

When things calm downKlaus is bleeding. His hand clutches his opposite arm and the sleeve of hisshirt saturated and dark red.

Caroline (9:45 PM): No fair. You totally have a way cooler how I got this scar story thanme.

Klaus (9:46 PM): So you’ve never needed a dozen stitches after a bar fight?

Caroline (9:47 PM): Nope. But I guess I’ve still got time.

Klaus (9:48 PM): It’s good to have goals.

She feels a littleanxious watching Klaus get loaded into an ambulance, seeing him in pain andstruggling to answer the EMTs questions. Silly, since he’s perfectly fine andjoking with her via text, only a few blocks away.

The episode ends withthe ambulance door closing, his roommates huddled together for warmth on thesidewalk watching it drive away.

Caroline checks thetime, debates moving on to another episode. She doesn’t actually have to go tobed for another hour so she could watch some more. She knows Klaus andAurora must hook up at some point - Caroline’s watched plenty of reality TV andKlaus’ show was less subtle than most.

She hasn’t feltjealous yet, doubts she will. She’d lose her shit if Klaus were to up and getweird about her high school boyfriends. They weren’t any of his business andCaroline’s not going to make a fuss just because she can see one of Klaus’ pastrelationships with her own two eyes thanks to the magic of technology.

Veering in a more romanticdirection with Klaus has been really good, and he’d made it clear it wassomething he’d wanted for a while. His past has no bearing on their present.

Besides, Carolinekind of likes Aurora, or at least the version the cameras capture. She’s a littledramatic, sucks at any and all forms of housework, but is at least willing tolaugh at herself. Plus, the poor girl’s family seems nuts - a phoneconversation with her parents had been icy and her brother had appearedonscreen only to lecture her about how unbecoming it was to associate withpeople beneath her and how Aurora was shaming the family.

Caroline doesn’t havesiblings but her knee jerk reaction had been a big fat yikes.

Plus, it’s not hardto see the behind the scenes manipulations. Aurora’s confessionals often havingher comparing and contrasting Klaus and Lucien, waffling about her feelings,and Caroline can easily envision the leading questions that she’d had to dealwith.

The results ofshoving young, attractive people together, forcing them to interact, andsupplying copious amounts of booze, are pretty predictable.

See: the bajillionvarieties of Real Housewives.

There’s no wayCaroline’s curiosity will survive not knowing how things end but she can wait abit. She shuts her laptop and stretches out the kinks in her back, grabbing herphone once more.

Caroline (9:56 PM): Do you want to get lunch tomorrow?

Klaus (9:57 PM): So you can interrogate me, I presume?

Caroline (9:58 PM): Yep. You don’t have to answer anything if you don’t want to though. I’mjust super fascinated by how that guy became, well, you.

Klaus (9:59 PM): Not sure how to take that, love.

Caroline (9:59 PM): I meant it in a good way. I like you. The you I know.

Caroline (10:00 PM): Past you seems kind of exhausting and I want to reach into my laptopand shake him sometimes.

Caroline (10:01 PM): Mostly because his commitment to hats is out of control.

Caroline (10:01 PM): Please tell me you got rid of those.

“Oh my god, I need tostop,” Caroline mutters. She closes her eyes, huffs out a laugh. Maybe sheshould have just gone to bed. She resists the urge to apologize for rambling.No need to call attention to it.

Klaus (10:02 PM): The only hats I own are functional, designed for warmth

Klaus (10:02 PM): I like the you that you are now too.

Klaus (10:03 PM): I can meet you at 1. Does that work for you?

She smiles down ather phone, taps out a quick affirmative. Retro trashy reality TV can wait,she’s got a fourth date outfit to put together.

#Anonymous #klaroline #klaroline drabbles #inspired by a s u p e r old and hilarious pic of jomo that popped up on twitter awhile back that I cannot find now

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quinlin-blog1 · 7 years ago

Text

The Lost Island ~ Chapter One

**Just a quick note. This is one of the first ever books I wrote. Disclaimer being that it’s going to be cringe-y at the beginning but it does get better**

The warm May sun beams, joyfully, almost playfully, through the window of a tall house at the end of a quiet street. Children cheerfully ran playing up and down the road and skipping ropes at the local park. From inside the house, a girl of sixteen could see her little siblings as they rough-housed in the front yard. The sun came through the window, illuminating her bright green eyes and shining on her long soft brown hair, with its teal dip-dyed ends tumbling down to her lower back.

That's me. My name is Adriana Langster, I have five siblings, four of which are younger than me, and one is older. I live in Australia, though I won’t say where exactly.

My head was resting on my palm, my other hand sketching the scene in front of me. I found myself smiling as I thought about my little siblings, but then, the smile dropped.

I will be going away soon. My mother is sending me to a finishing school for girls on faraway island. I won’t see my friends or family for three years. My baby sister will be starting school, with my brothers and younger sister.

Flashback:

I was in my backyard, playing With Maya, my baby sister.

"Adriana!" My mother, Lana, called.

"Coming mum!" I called back and set Maya on the sun chair, and ran inside. My mother was sitting on the couch, looking absolutely elated.

"What's up mum?" I asked sitting in my favorite chair, swinging my legs off the edge of the arm.

"Remember how when you were younger, you said you’d like to go to that finishing school that our neighbor Olive went to?" She asked me. Yes, I remembered, but why was she bringing this up now? That was eight years ago.

"Uh-huh?" I answered hesitantly. ‘Wow, really elegant Addy’ I thought.

"Well. Guess who was accepted?" She asked eagerly with a huge grin.

"Lily?" I asked hopefully. ‘Oh No, I don't want to go!’ I begged inside my head.

"No silly, you! They have accepted you in! Isn't that great!?" Mum shouted as she tackled me with a hug.

"Uh mum?" I asked. How was I supposed to tell her?

"Yeah?" She asked, smiling like a goof.

"You do realize that, that was eight years ago right?" I started slowly.

"Yes, time flies huh?"

"I don't think I want to go anymore mum" I told her.

She looked confused. "Why? When Olive told you about it you were begging to go" She pointed out to me.

"Yeah but, I've changed since then. I've made friends, I have a life now. I'm enjoying myself here. That place is a school to teach girls how to become proper ladies. I don't really think I belong there" I told her.

"That's why you're going. Because you need to learn to become a lady."

"If that was your plan to send me there, then why not send me earlier?! Why would you wait till now, when I’m happy and comfortable here?" I snapped.

“Sweetheart your name has been on that list since you first showed interest in going! Olive made sure of it!”

“I know mum! But I've changed from the little girl I was then!”

“Don't think that I haven't noticed.”

“My point is! I've changed, I don't want to go to that school any more. I'm happy with the one I’m going to now!”

"I'm not sending you because I want to ruin your life, I'm sending you because it's better for you and will give you more opportunities." She said.

I shouted in exasperation and stomped upstairs to my bedroom.

End flashback.

As you can tell I didn't take it so well.

Someone banged on my door, knocking me out of my thoughts. I went over and opened it. No one was there.

"Addy!" A little voice cried.

I looked down to see Maya hugging my legs. She couldn't pronounce my name right, none of them could at that age. I leaned down and picked her up. Since Maya was born, we’ve always had a very special connection. I sit down on my bed and bounce her on my knee. Maya loves this. She also find's it funny when someone sneezes. Seriously, it's like the funniest thing in the world for her.

"Addy's going to have to go away soon" I told her. Tears coming to my eyes. I hated the idea of abandoning my baby sister. She needs me and I need her. Maya tilted her head slightly. Her small hand reached up and touched my cheek lightly.

“Why?” She asked me quizzically.

I didn’t want to answer the question, so instead I brought up another subject.

"Are you hungry?" I asked her.

"Yes" She replied. Of course, she’s always hungry. I smiled down at her.

I lifted Maya up and put her on my shoulders. She giggled as I bounced down the stairs. Her small arms wrapped tightly around my neck as she hung on.

I haven't been on very good terms with my mother since that conversation. Though we still speak it's not as carefree as it used to be. When I reached the kitchen. Lily and Lysander were taking large drinks of water. They had bruises and slight scrapes on their arms and legs. I smiled and shook my head slightly.

"Hi Addy,” Lysander said.

"Are you coming to our magic show tonight?" Lily asked. They were always putting on magic shows and performances. The two of them were almost like twins, even though Lily was a few years older than Lysander.

"Of course. Why not?" I told them.

They smiled. Uriah, my youngest brother ran in, holding his superhero figure out with his arms spread wide open.

"What time is your magic show?” I asked. Peeling an apple and cutting it into quarters. "Ow!" I exclaimed when Lysander bumped into me making me cut my finger.

"Oh! Sorry Addy!" He stated.

"It's alright" I said, running the cut under cold water.

"The magic show is at six o'clock. Here's your ticket" Lily stated, handing me a piece of paper with my name and a big six on it. I smiled at my sister and kissed Lysander’s head.

"Ew! Sister Germs!" He yelled and ran away. Lily chasing after him.

"Addy? Can we watch a movie?” Uriah asked me.

"Of course, let's go" I said, Picking Maya up off the counter and carrying her into the living room where Uriah turned on the T.V. Backyardagains was playing. Uriah plopped on the floor in front of it. I sat on the couch with Maya curled up on my lap, gnawing on an apple slice. Eventually I fell asleep listening to the cheesy songs from the show and Uriah’s laughing.

I was awoken abruptly, when the family dog Lee and my dog Twilight ran into the living room, wanting me to take them for a walk. Twilight was huge, being part Dane part husky, I often put Maya on her back and let her ride Twilight. Lee, on the other hand, was just a tiny little thing. We rescued her a few years ago when she was two years old and she still looks like a puppy.

I groaned.

"Alright, alright!" I said. Getting up and stretching. My back made a series of relieving popping noises.

I walked to the door and grabbed Lee’s leash. Twilight never left my side. I had rescued her when she was a puppy from some kids that were throwing rocks at her. I took her home, cleaned her and nursed her to health. Since then she has become my best friend and protector. Of course, she was the protector of the entire family. When Maya was born, Twilight looked after her like she was her own. I was Twilight's mother and Maya was the baby sister.

I clipped the leash to Lee’s collar and I opened the door. I was instantly hit by a wave of heat. Even though it was autumn it felt like midsummer.

We walked down the streets, waving to the neighbors, when suddenly I was slammed into the ground, there was a person was on top of me. Catherine.

"You know. If you weren't so shy, I would say to try out for the football team" I groaned sarcastically. She laughed and climbed off me.

Catherine was quiet most of the time, though when we're together she's quite animated figuratively speaking. She had pale blonde hair and amber colored eyes. It was hard for Catherine at first, because her hearing is impaired, we had issues communicating when we first met for a school project, but my mother had taught me basic sign language at a young age.

But, of course, Catherine wasn’t alone. Our other friend Crystal was standing not too far away during these events, holding Lee. Crystal always loved that dog, probably because she was easy to pick up and cuddle.

Crystal was something else to say the least. Crystal is Catherine’s opposite. She tends to be more girly than either of us. Her black hair was cut just to her shoulders, the roots dyed bright. And she tends to be quite random.

Catherine’s purple streaked hair was pulled back into a ponytail, as per always, while Crystal’s was a riot of braids.

I had already told my friends that I was leaving in a few days.

We had been spending as much time together as possible. We headed over to my house to drop off Lee. Twilight will whine if we left without her, so we decided to bring her along.

"Hey mum?! I'm going to go to the park with Crystal and Catherine!" I called up as I left the house on my bike. Crystal and Catherine had already grabbed their bikes and were waiting for me.

We didn’t usually go to the park, unless we had to take the little kids with us.

Luckily Lily was best friends with Alex, Catherine’s younger sister so we regularly brought them to the playground.

When it was just us, we went to our favorite grove of trees on a cliff, overlooking a lake, covered with vast trees. There, we had made our tree houses, three separate from one main one.

No one ever came here, but if they did they wouldn't have been able to find the tree houses unless they knew what they were looking for. Mine, was filled with pictures that I had taken…I want to be a photographer, a video camera and an underwater camera, a lap top for photo editing, my snorkel and mask, books. The main house had a few seats and an extra-large first aid kit. Catherine’s idea, she wants to be a doctor. Getting up there wasn't easiest thing in the world, let me tell you. We had to make it hard to get up so that people won't think of trying. We each have different ways of getting up. Crystal's way is an inconspicuous platform that she can crank up, Catherine’s is a rope ladder that she wove the first day (It took several tireless days to get this all done, in which our parents thought we were out at a science fair) and mine was a simple, "find as many ways to climb up as possible" kind of deal.

We reached the hang out and climbed up to the main house. I looked at my surroundings. Many pictures of past summers, Halloweens, Christmases, Easters, Birthdays and many more different ones, hung up on the walls. We made this tree house three years ago. It made me sad that I would have to leave it all behind for another three. What will change while she's gone? All this would be gone. We would be older. Nineteen, wow.

"Don't worry Dell. We won't ever change" Catherine said as she came in. I must have looked as confused as I felt because Crystal spoke up next.

"You were thinking aloud Dell”

(Some clarity, my friends call me Dell to stand for Delta, Catherine is Alpha or Alphs for leader and Crystal is Beta or Bets.)

"Sorry, can't help myself. Think, I won't be able to see you guys for three years, excluding Christmas." I stated sadly.

"I'll see you. My mum set me up to go too. Aren't otters adorable?" Crystal asked.

"Yes Bets, otters are adorable. Then it's just me?" Catherine said

"Why don't you go?" I asked.

"Because Dell, you know my mum" Catherine had a point. Her mother wasn't the nicest person on the planet, she was very stern and had a high shrill voice that could cut glass at the lowest whisper. She didn't like me or Catherine very much so she loved to lecture Catherine on us. This was one of the reasons Catherine was so shy.

"You don't have to tell us we're going. You can tell her that you've given it some thought and decided you wanted to go" I stated.

"I couldn't ask for an otter" Crystal sang happily.

I face-palmed, so it's otters now? Last week it was bunnies, the week before it was sloths. Crystal is obsessed with cute baby animals. She begs her parents for one, they say no, she moves on to a new one and repeat. Catherine seemed to be thinking the same thing because she repeated my actions.

"Are we allowed to bring pets?" Catherine asked. Last month, her parents had caved and bought her a pet penguin that she named Sparkle. Personally, I still couldn’t believe that she had gotten a penguin, we were in Australia for heaven’s sake!

"Yeah, I'll be bringing Twilight." I explained.

We were quiet for a few minutes, each one of us doing our own thing, when Catherine suggested going swimming, to which Crystal and I agreed.

I ran out and ran across the bridge to my house, wobbling unsteadily as I did so. I took out my bathing suit and changed quickly, before climbing down the tree and jumping the last few feet to the ground. I raced to the cliff at the edge of lake with Crystal and Catherine chasing after me. I reached the lake and began to remove my shorts and t-shirt and dove into the water just as Crystal and Catherine arrived. I resurfaced and was splashed by Catherine. Crystal was rubbing sunscreen onto her pale skin on shore since she did not tan well. Catherine and I began to splash each other, laughing uncontrollably. After a while we headed back to shore and collapsed in the sand to relax and tan for a bit.

I was going to miss my girls.

"We'll miss you too Dell" Catherine stated.

I need to stop thinking out loud. I thought.

"Yes, you do" Crystal agreed.

"Dang it!” I exclaimed and my best friends laughed.

"What if your mum says yes? Then we could all go together!" Crystal tried.

"Yeah, I could ask her tonight when I get home" Catherine stated.

"Actually, I was thinking we could have a sleepover tonight. You could ask if that’s ok when you go to get your stuff" I told them. I had asked my dad this morning and he said it was all right. He thought that since I’d be leaving soon we should cram in as much time together as we could.

"Sounds good." Crystal said happily. She's always happy. Maybe that's not a bad thing

I leaned over, making sure that my friends didn't see, and picked up two handfuls of wet sand, balled it up and threw it at them. Crystal screamed and Catherine fell off her chair face first into the sand.

"DELL!" They screech. I ran.

It quickly turned into an all-out sand war. Catherine threw one into my hair and I hit Crystal in the shoulder. Crystal set a timer for one hour, and the sand fort competition began. Forty- five minutes later my fort was done, with walls taller than myself and a foot thick. As the others continued to build up their forts. I began to make ammo.

I had made about twenty sand balls before the timer began to sing the duck song. ‘Really Bets?’ I thought to myself.

Instantly Crystal let out a war cry and began to throw sand bombs at both me and Catherine, who ducked behind her fort for cover. I ran around them and behind Catherine. Grabbing a handful of sand and shoving it down the back of her shirt. She squealed and jumped up and down, trying to get the sand out of her shirt. I was rolling on the floor laughing until tears rolled down my face. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Catherine stop throwing sand and look at Crystal. Suddenly they both jumped from behind me grabbing sand and shoving it down my own shirt as revenge.

This continued for ages, with us teaming up against each other. Finally, we all collapsed on the sand, panting for air.

"Alphs, what time is it?" I asked.

Catherine reached over to her bag and pulled out her phone.

"Two twenty- eight" She replied.

"We've been here for three hours?" Crystal questioned

"Yup" I answered.

"What do we do now?" Catherine said.

"Well my dear buddies. We, are going to shower, get dressed, then go to my place. My mom wants to take us out for dinner, to celebrate" Crystal stated.

"Celebrate what?" I asked.

"Getting into school. Alphs will have time to convince her mom to let her go before we leave" Crystal pointed out.

"She has a point" I said.

"I guess I can try. It wouldn't be too bad getting out of that place for a while." Catherine concurred.

"Great! Let's head back and meet up at my place around four, mum wants to take us at five thirty" Crystal said happily.

"Then we can have time to get ready for you guys staying over" I said.

"I'm glad we don't ever do these things at my house, last time it was a disaster" Catherine mused

It was true, the last time we had a sleep over at her house was two year ago. Boy we sure learned our lesson. We accidentally burst one of her feather pillowed and stained her carpet and bed sheets with grape juice, her mother was none too impressed to say the least. Mind you we were like ten.

"We'll have the basement tonight, Lily.... Oh no!" I exclaimed.

"What?" My friends asked.

"Lily and Lysander are doing a magic show tonight at six! I won't be able to see it and they'll be upset”

The last time I pulled a stunt like this they whined at me for three days straight.

"Maybe they would bring it earlier if we told them we'd come" Catherine told me.

Lily loved Catherine more than she did me, though I loved Alex, Catherine’s little sister, tons, so it worked out nicely.

"I'll let her know that" I said and grabbed out my phone and turned on Skype. Instantly a message from Lily.

"When are you getting home? Is Cathy coming with?" It read.

"Well that's the thing, Cathy will be coming with me, but can you move the show the earlier so she can be there? Crys’ mum wants to see us at five thirty" I explained. It took a few moments but my phone beeped again none the less.

"Fine, but You have to be here at five" Lily stated.

"Perfect I'll be home soon. The others will be coming too, plus Alex" I could almost hear her squeal.

After saying quick goodbyes, I hung up the phone and turned to my friends with a grin.

"We're good, as long as your there by five and have Alex with you, she can stay over too.

"Oh, she'll love that. She'll probably screamed louder than anything and run to pack for the night" Catherine said amused

"That's why I love her" I said taking my hair out of its bun that was falling to the nape of my neck and shaking it out.

So, we left the beach back to our houses to drop off our stuff and head back to our actual homes. My brain couldn't stop thinking about how much things are going to change when I leave. I would be sixteen where I got back for the summer. I wouldn't be coming back for another summer for three years, Christmas and spring breaks, but nothing else. Then I would have to go back for another three years. By the time I'd finished the school I'd be nineteen!

“You’re thinking' too much about it Ads! It won't be as bad as you think!”

I have four voices in my head, two boys and two girls. The girls named Cal and Tori, the boys named Zell and Arrow.

Zell, Arrow and Tori mostly keep a level head about things, while Cal insists on always looking on the bright side. They had apparently been in my head since I was born. I hadn't ever told anyone accepts for Catherine and Crystal, who also had voices in their heads. I had never told my parents, though I had come very close to at many points in my life. Mostly when Cal and Tori were nagging me about something, or when Zell and Arrow were annoying me, or when one of them let something slip that they weren't meant to. I got so caught up in thought that my parents would notice and ask me about it. I always lied my way out of it smoothly.

“I can't help myself Arrow. I'll be gone for so long! Everything would be different!” I replied to Arrow’s statement.

“You’re thinking too much about it Sissy! It won't be that bad!” Cal said to me.

“Oh Sure! Everything is Goin' t' be fine and dandy when she be goin' t' a place where she don' be knowin' anyone, or even know where to be goin' Sure Cal She'll be fine!” Zell said sarcastically.

“This can't get any worse. I completely agree with Zell on this one. I don't know anything about where I'm going or who I'll be meeting”

“You'll be fine Mistress. It's best that you go to this school” Tori spoke up.

“Wait? Do you guys know anything about this school that I'm going to?” I asked.

“Er- No, nothing. We only know what you know” Tori lied.

“Nice try Tor. We be knowin' everythin' 'bout this. We just can't be tellin' you 'bout it” Zell covered.

“Under whose authority?” I said, dignified.

“The boss man! The big guy! The toughie! Think about it Ads. He's the one who doesn't want you to know anything about yourself that you don't already know! Remember that time when you were ten and playing football? There was no way you could have made that shot but you willed yourself to so you did! You saved the game because you did something impossible! I'll bet-” Arrow's monolog was interrupted by a loud smacking sound and his loud call of “Ouch”. Tori or Cal had Smacked Arrow.

“Arrow! You weren't supposed to say anything! We could get into trouble!” Tori scolded a pouting Arrow.

“Well it ain't like we can be leavin' Ads in a rut with no way out, Tor.” Zell pointed out to Tori

“But the master told us not to tell her anything she doesn't need to know!” Cal reminded them.

This conversation seems to be very one sided.

“And we ain't goin' t'. But we ain't goin' t' leave 'er with Nothin'!” Zell said firmly.

“Yeah! She has the right to know what's going to happen! Or at least a rough edge of it!” Arrow agreed.

Yep, very one sided.

“Well how do we know she can handle it?” Cal asked.

“Are you kidding me!? It's Ads! Of course, she can handle it!” Arrow exclaimed.

“Are you sure? Because it's this kind of stuff that makes people worry and stress.” Tori pointed out.

“It's Ads we be talkin' 'bout! O' course she can handle this!”

“Guys!” I shouted, finally having enough. People looked at me weirdly.

“Go back to your knitting!” I told them and they averted their eyes.

“Point to Ads” Arrow joked.

“Thanks. What is going on?”

“What we are going on about Ads, is that the fact that you’re going to the school is important, you have to go. But Catherine and Crystal are going to be there too.” Cal reassured me.

Seems like I have no choice. I thought to myself. As I stepped through my door,. I was instantly ambushed by Maya and Twilight.

Maya riding on Twilight's back as they came romping up and trampled on top of me. Twilight licking my face, while Maya insisted on jumping endlessly on my belly. And I suddenly felt the bile rising in the back of my throat. No, I didn't really throw up. Thank whoever may be out there, for my iron stomach.

“Help! I'm being sat on by a demon baby!” I shouted

My mother poked her head around the corner to see what was going on, only to roll her eyes, smile and walk back into the living room

“Thanks for the help!” I shouted after her.

“You're welcome!” Came the reply.

I turned back to Maya who was literally making my breakfast come back up.

“OK! OK! I'll make you a smoothie if you get off” I offered, laboring to breathe.

Maya got off and I hobbled off into the kitchen to make myself and Maya a smoothie.

A loud ringing of the doorbell interrupted my giggling as Maya and myself hid away from Catherine, Alex and Crystal, who were the ones that were ringing.

You see, we were hiding from them, partly because I didn't want to get dressed, but mostly because we were hyper on sugar. It wasn't our fault that mother had left the cake and pies unattended.

So here we were, hiding in Maya's large play house that was in her playroom. We heard footsteps up the stairs and the door open.

“Addy! I know you're in here! I want to hide too” Alex's voice came.

I opened the door and let her into the small house. We giggled and waited for Catherine and Crystal to come up and find us.

“Come on out Dell!” Catherine called.

“Yeah. Either we'll find you. Or the man- eating otters will!” Crystal added.

Que Catherine face palm and Alex's stifled laughter. Crystal and her silly obsession with baby animals. Alex and I were completely busting a gut, so much so that we failed to keep our laughter quiet for much longer.

“They’re in the house!” Crystal exclaimed as they heard us

“No, we're not” I said

“Yes, you are!” Catherine stated

“Can't touch this” I sang quietly to Alex who laughed harder, if possible.

“What did you say?!” Catherine and Crystal asked loudly

“Nothing!” We replied.

I counted down and we busted down the door, running out of the room with Maya asleep on the little bed in the house.

“Can't touch this!” I sang loudly causing both Catherine and Crystal to laugh.

“That's what you said!” Crystal exclaimed.

We ran into my room and collapsed on my bed and floor, laughing too hard.

“W-when do you l-leave?” Alex stuttered out as she tried to calm her laughter.

“In about six days.” I replied, taking in air.

“Cathy asked mother if she could go, I think mother will let her though. I'd love to go” Alex said to me.

“You’re just too young Al. You'll be going soon enough” I reminded her.

“Yeah, I know. Then Lily and I can go together!” Alex said brightly.

“Yeah, we'll be back soon enough for Christmas and then spring breaks. Three years from now you can go too” I told her.

“I know. But it's going to feel like forever!” She emphasized the “Forever” in the sentence.

“I know!”

“Alright Alex. We need to get Dell ready, so out you go.” Catherine said as they walked in.

“Yeah. Come on, Delly!” Crystal Smirked. This was never a good sign.

#Actual stories #first book #Lost Island #stories #superpowers #first chapter

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reflectivejournalbymyy · 5 years ago

Text

Week 8 (19/10 - 23/10)

MONDAY:

Monday is here which means back to work! We went through the two sketches we made last week, tried them both and then started discussing what we liked and disliked with them. My group partner made a sketch with a ball that you can move around with a body part, we’ve tried it with both our hands and our nose. It was based on the concept of the user having control over what is happening on the screen. We can call my sketch Improv and my partners sketch Ball.

Ball:

The interaction is quite flat, you move the ball around for a couple of seconds and then you’re done with it, similar to my sketch last week before adding another body part. There is nothing going if you’re not there either, it doesn’t act like a living thing. The interaction between the ball and the wrist is very fluent and it feels like the ball is really reacting to you.

Improv:

There is more to do, it changes quickly and a lot. One time is not like the other and it’s constantly ongoing wether you’re there or not. As you enter its presence all you can do is adjust to its behaviour.

We were pretty much in agreement that the forced movement was the more interesting one. We felt that there was more explore and build on.

We started discussing what we could do to make it feel different or change the felt experience. We tried to remove the video and have a one coloured background to see what would change in the experience.

It actually made you feel less connected to the screen, but at the same time it made you think of you how it felt more. When I couldn’t see myself anymore I didn’t have to think of how I looked on the screen, it removed the silly feeling a little bit. We tried this but didn’t really know what to do with it, where to move next.

Conveniently our teacher sat down for a coaching session at this time. We talked about what we had done so far and showed him the sketches. We continued talking about what different kind of forced movements there are and he asked what kind we were thinking of working with, we had no idea. At this moment he did a quick exhibition, he grabbed something that was laying on the table and threw it lightly at my group mate who instinctively caught it. This caught my mind immediately, what if we worked with involuntary or instinctive movements? So what is an instinctive movement and what kind instinctive movements are there?

Instinct = An intuitive reaction not based on rational conscious thought

Movements:

- Catch.

- Protecting yourself if something is being thrown at you for example.

- Moving stuff when walking by / moving yourself out of the way

- Ducking

TUESDAY:

Discussing yesterday, starting with two new sketches based on discussion. Axel with a ball that gets smaller and bigger that you are supposed to adapt to. Me with a ball that you have to catch that randomly turns smaller and falls through your hands making you drop it and move in an instinctive way to catch it again.

Today we are working from home because we’re waiting for a relatives Covid-19 results to se if one of us could potentially be infected. From the thoughts and observations yesterday we were working on two completely new sketches based on instinct or involuntary movement.

My partner is making a sketch where a circle is changing between a small and bigger size and you are supposed to adapt to the size as well. When the circle is big, you become bigger and when it’s small you have to be smaller. By smaller and bigger we mean the distance between you wrists. If you are not outside or inside its borders the circle with turn red, indicating that something is wrong. I think the idea here is to trigger the tense state where you waiting for a change and having to adapt to it.

. I am working with a circle that comes falling from the top of the screen. I want to see if this can evoke the instinctive movement in my peers if I put it in front of them. When you think you’ve caught it and is holding on to it, it’s going to become smaller, hopefully falling between your hands to once again, evoke that catching movement that you exercise from you instinct. Here it is shown without the video, you can only see your wrist position from the red small circles.

Tomorrow we want to maybe implement sound, see if that causes a bigger reaction than when its just quiet. Maybe implement these into each other. Use the first one where you have to adapt to the size of the circle as a distraction before the circle starts falling. If we finish and have the time do some user testing and see what happens.

WEDNESDAY:

Today has been such a pain in my a**, we have been working the entire day with just combining our sketches from yesterday. In the end we had a little time to try it with others and see how they reacted to it.

We are back at the school, everyone is healthy and Corona-free. Today was not a struggle free day. I’ve been in such a bad mood the entire day and nothing has been working as we want to. We have gotten errors after errors. We have spent HOURS getting a timer to work, I feel like I’m back in module 2 with all these struggles. My partner is luckily quite skilled with programming and together with my googling and him trying it out we eventually made it work. It really took most of the day. Days like this I wish we could just tell a programmer how we wanted it to work, they’d fix it and we could focus on the actual interaction. It feels like we’ve spent an unreasonable time on this. Our vision is that it starts with the circle that is changing size and you get a specified time limit to adapt to the size changes that will happen in a random time interval. If you fail the circle with start falling and then evoke that instinctual movement. At the end of the day we managed to get it to work somewhat, we started a timer when the program had started up and when the circle then changed size we always check what the timer is at now and give the participant a 2-second time limit to adapt and it’s working, FINALLY! We had a couple of minute over and wanted to get an idea of what people would do when out in front of it, we didn’t tell them much about what to do either. Comments we got from this was:

- It’s a little hard to grasp what to do at first, when it shifted in size. The feeling of being tense is there.

- People actually did grab for the circle when it started falling when they failed. Unfortunately we didn’t film it and don’t have any video documentation of it.

THURSDAY:

It’s almost weekend but we still have a little further to go! Today we continued and started fine tuning the sketch from yesterday. The circle has been too easy to catch as it is moving quite slowly, we have also been playing with the sizes of the circles to try to get them in appropriate sizes.

I am still a bit that so much of yesterday was spent on just cramming programming. In a working environment I have assumed that we will be working with developers who will be in charge of the coding. We don’t get the time to focus on the interaction as much as we want to when every small change takes up so much of our time. I get that it is great that we know a bit of programming to get a better sense of what is possible. But until someones is very proficient in programming, it’s always going to be hard to imagine all the possibilities. I think my programming logic is fine, I know sort of how to think when putting stuff together or adding behaviour. But when I have to cram down all the functional stuff and I have to get information from here and send it over there and so on, I am lost!

Enough with the ranting, we had a quick chat with the teacher about the sketch we’ve produced and received some things to think about during the process. How are we trying to evoke the emotions right now and how can we increase them? By adding more new features or have more of the same features that we aldready have? When we add or remove things, remember to think about how this is adding to the experience we’re exploring. We also have to remember that these sketches are not about being fun, but about exploring the kinaesthetic movements of it. What many groups have heard before, and what I want to watch out for is making game-like sketches or simulations. We also got some idea about thinking of distractions so we will try this out as well. We will try to shift body parts that you are supposed to adapt the circle to. Instead of doing it with your wrist we will change it to doing it with your feet. We also added a feature that you could lift up the circle from the bottom if dropped it, drag it back to its starting position to make it start over with the size changing.

Our plan for tomorrow is to do some real user testing, documenting it in video and notes, and see where that leads us.

FRIDAY:

USER TESTING, ANALYSING, PLANNING

Today I have been conducting some user testing. I’ve filmed those who was okay with being on video but written notes on all of their experiences.

Person 1:

“It felt like it was easy to match the circle, maybe lower the time frame?” This person never failed so I told them to fail one time to get the reaction that followed a failure. The person tried to catch it with their hands like we intended but this person has also seen med working with this project so I will take this in with some caution.

Person 2:

I said nothing about being able to grab the circle with their hand, but only to adapt to the size changes. This person did not try to garb with their hands but put their feet together to stop the ball from falling to the “floor”. Tried one more time after getting to know that you can use your hands for this. This time we realised that the ball was maybe moving too fast, we increased the speed before but maybe we thought it was easy because we knew what was coming the entire time. Right now it is very skill based.

Person 3:

Was, like the previous person, just working with the feet. Didn’t realise that the hands were part of the sketch too. We tried again after telling them that they could use their hands. Did go for the ball but it was moving too fast for them to catch it.

Person 4:

Actually tried to grab it with their hands but not until it had hit the floor, was also working with the feet initially. It is hard to reach the top with the ball again to put it back to its first state.

What this tells us that maybe we have to go back to adapting our wrist to the ball instead. But also, now we have tried this so now it might be time to move on and try another sketch. My first thought is to go for the duck movement. But that’s for next week!

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