#i will be pasting those clips all over this blog please wait patiently

[chrisbangs]

I HEAR CHAN LISTENED TO SPARKLE :') this is how i know he loves me

#2 ppl texted me this morning to tell me #i will be pasting those clips all over this blog please wait patiently #i am soooo excited to see his reaction #i read the translation #i cried #him calling her noona and whwhhwjwnwkenekejeownsksskskskks i'm gonna be ill #i want them to be besties .. i need a collab one day #the person who worked on ttath (?) worked on masquerade so..... SO........ i am one step closer to friendship with chungha and chan #please let it happen #besties 4 lyfe... please please #ok anyway he looked really cute and i #i wish he was my bf that's all #anyway my day has been absolutely crap but 🤣🫶 we can't all win #i think this was the only win i had today 😭 so i will take it

[dingyuxi]

COMPREHENSIVE GIFFING TUTORIAL (vapoursynth + ps cc 2018) + some tips and tricks on color correction, blending and subtitles

You guys asked for it, so here we are! This is by no means the gold standard to giffing. Rather, this is simply my process and my own preferences. Take it as you will. Additionally since I use a mac some of my controls/panels may look different than what you would see for windows users.

DOWNLOADING YOUR SOURCE

This step is extremely important to the quality of your gifset. If you want high-quality gifs I would recommend giffing sources in 1080p whenever possible (especially if you’re going for larger dimensions). You may get away with 720p for smaller gifs. For kdramas, your go-to source would be dr*maday or torrents. (you can search my faq tag if you’d like to know specifics on finding and downloading torrents).

IMPORTING + PROCESSING YOUR FILES WITH VAPOURSYNTH (VS)

Please note that this tutorial does not cover basic installation and set-up of vs. If you would like to know how to download and set-up vapoursynth (it works for both mac and pc) along with some of it’s basics you can find more information at: https://hackmd.io/@nibreon/vapoursynth-book/%2F%40nibreon%2Fvapoursynth-book

Once you’ve identified what portion of your video you’d like to gif, simply drag your video file into VS. Specify the start time and duration of the clip you’d like to import. Typically you’ll be aiming for ~3-8 second clip depending on how big your gifs will be. I am very lazy when it comes to importing. The less of it I have to do, the better. Therefore, I often import clips that are 10-15 seconds long, sometimes even up to 20 seconds. I wouldn’t recommend going over 15 seconds most of the time though, because this will usually bring you over the 500 frames photoshop allows you to import at once. (when I do go over, I will sometimes import the processed VS file into PS in segments). You can also choose to import the VS output as segments if you want all your gifs on separate canvases. (I'll go into more detail on this later)

Once you’ve imported the clip into VS your screen should roughly look like this once the resizer pops up:

In the top left is where you will be applying your cropping, sharpening and denoising filters. Cropping: Keep in mind the Tumblr dimensions: 540px for full-width gifs and 268px for half size gifs, 177/178/177px for 3 gifs across. The height is completely up to your own preference. Usually I work in 540x300px. Once you edit those parameters you can drag/resize your video file to fit your new canvas. Sharpening + Denoising: You can choose to skip this if you would rather sharpen in ps. I personally do all my cropping, denoising and sharpening in vs. I use finesharp and KNML for sharpening and denoising respectively. Once you select those two filters from their drop down menus, be sure the select the checkbox as well. You should now notice 2 additional lines of code in the top right box. The line that reads: video = core.knlm.KNLMeansCL(video, 0, 6, 4, 1.2, channels="YUV") is where you will adjust your denoising parameters. You will only be adjusting those 4 numbers. I usually use: 0, 1, 0, 1.2. Now find the line that reads: video = hnw.FineSharp(video, sstr=0.22). These are your sharpening parameters. once again we’re only adjusting the number at the end. I typically use somewhere between 0.33-0.55. Depending on the quality of your source and preferences these parameters may change. 

Here is a breakdown of the KNML parameters (source: @/nibreon HackMD):

Once you have finalized your parameters, copy all the code in that top right box and paste it into your vapoursynth editor. Note: you can ‘inactivate’ certain lines of code by adding the # symbol at the start the line. That line of code will then be greyed-out. This is what your code should now look like (the highlighted section is the part I just copy and pasted):

If you would like to preview your filters and see if you need to make any adjustments, simply navigate to the top bar and select script > preview. If you like what you see, great! If not, you can adjust the parameters directly in the editor until you see a result you’re happy with. Once you’re happy you can move onto the final step in vs: processing. 

Processing: Once again, navigate to the top bar and select script > encode video. Another window should pop up. Make sure you set ‘header’ to ‘Y4M’ then click ‘start’. Patiently wait for that to finish processing. The longer your clip is and the more filters you add, the longer it will take. 

IMPORTING YOUR CLIP INTO PHOTOSHOP (PS)

Now you’re done with the vapoursynth section! Not too hard, right? I use the timeline method when I gif. To import your video file into ps navigate to file > import > video frames to layers. Here you can use the sliders to further specify what range you would like to import. Make sure the ‘make frame animation’ box is checked. To optimize smoothness of your gif, avoid checking the ‘limit to every _ frames’ box. Hit ‘OK’ and wait for the frames to import. Depending on the size of your clip, ps may notify you that you are importing a large file and it may take a long time to process, simply say ‘ok’ to this. UNLESS you get a message saying it will limit to 500 frames. This means your clips contained more than 500 frames and you should select a smaller section to avoid cutting out any critical parts. (Note: you can always go back and repeat this process to select a smaller range of frames from the same video clip until you’ve imported all the frames you need).

Timing: You can adjust the timing of your gifs before converting to timeline. Select all the frames (Navigate to the icon with the 4 bars at the bottom right of you screen. Select “select all frames”). Click the drop down next to the timing of any of the frames. Select ‘other’ and input a your preferred timing. I personally use ‘0.04′ but I've seen people use anywhere from 0.4-0.8ms. Also as a note: when you convert your gif to timeline it has a tendency to mess up your timing so even if you input 0.04 or 0.05 it won’t actually be that timing later. If you want the true frame rate you can set your timing right before saving. You can also adjust timing at the end. (see export/saving gif section for more info)

Now the next part can be tedious and for that reason I’ve created numerous actions to speed up this process. But for the sake of this tutorial I will walk you through the steps. At the bottom of your screen is your timeline. As you can see, it defaults to frames, but we want to convert this into a smart object so that all your coloring/edits are made to all of the layers. To do this: 1) Navigate to the icon with the 4 bars at the bottom right of you screen. Select “select all frames” 2) Now select all your layers in your layer panel. On mac you can use cmd + option + A as a shortcut. 3) Back to the icon with the 4 bars, select “convert to video timeline” 4) Right click on all layers (which should still all be selected) and find “convert to smart object”

(Aside: Actions) actions are SUPER helpful to streamlining your giffing process. you can find actions people have made available on resource blogs like itsphotoshop OR you can choose to make your own custom actions. To do this, all you need to do is locate your action panel. Then from the controls at the bottom of the panel select the one that looks like a sheet of paper to “create a new action” Once you’ve named it and hit ‘ok’ the record icon should now be red. PS will now basically ‘record’ whatever you do. To stop recording hit the square icon. Now whenever you want ps to execute the same set of steps you just did, you can locate the action you just made and ‘play’ it by selecting the triangle icon. I highly recommend making an action for the steps I just outlined above to convert your gif into a smart object timeline. It will make your process much faster and more painless. 

COLORING

Now the fun part! I focus on emphasizing the colors already present in the video source or getting rid of some less-than desirable overtones when I color. It gives the gif a natural look, but makes everything pop a little more. We will be working with selective color, curves, levels, and brightness/contrast mostly. This is the original gif I will be using to demonstrate coloring:

Curves: I always start with curves. The first curve layer I use to set a desirable black point. To do this, locate the top dropper icon from the curves panel and select the darkest point of your image. This will set that section to “true black” Feel free to play around with this until you find a desirable outcome. Now add another curves layer. This one we will be using to adjust the brightness/contrast. First, I always start off with ‘auto’ and see where that takes me. If you like the outcome, great! If you don’t play around with the different curve points until you get an outcome you like. 

Selective Color: This adjustment layer will be your best friend. For me, I will typically work with reds, yellows, and black. If the source has a lot of blue/cyan I will use those too. Basically look at your source and determine which base colors you’d like to emphasize/alter. For blacks I usually up the black by +1-5 depending on the source. For reds, it also depends on the source. But I will typically either decrease cyan (to make red stand out more) or increase cyan (to make the red not look so overexposed). You want to be careful here. Overexposing the red can make your skin tones look like red tomatoes! And for my content base, where most of the actors are of asian descent, we should be emphasizing the yellows and NOT the reds (see aside on color correction + skin tones for more info). After altering the reds to my liking, I do the same process for the yellows. To bring back natural skin tones and color, you will likely want to darken the yellows, expose them a bit more and maybe even  up the yellow slider. A common rule of thumb: if you want to make any of the colors less exposed, increase the cyan. If you want to increase exposure on any of the colors, decrease the cyan. If you want a color to appear more strongly or prominently, increase the black. The magentas and yellows I use more to adjust hues. You can add multiple selective color layers to further emphasize your changes. 

Levels: Now we will work on the lighting some more. This creates more contrast and depth to your gif, often making them look ‘crisper’ To emphasize the bright parts, move the right-hand slider to the left. The emphasize the dark parts, move the left-hand slider to the right. You may also choose to move the middle slider to adjust more neutral lighting. Do so until you find a setting to your liking. 

Miscellaneous: Depending on your gif you may need to play with other adjustment layers. Some other ones I often use are the brightness/contrast and exposure to adjust lighting and add more dimension to the gif. For additional color correction I use color balance and to a lesser extent hue/saturation and vibrance. 

(Aside: Color correction + skin tones): We are anti-whitewashing and anti-redwashing when it comes to asian media. Like I mentioned earlier, natural asian skin tones have yellow undertones, not red/pink. Therefore when you’re bringing in color you should be mindful of this delicate balance. Adding more red does NOT equal un-whiteashing. Be VERY careful how you balance the yellows with selective color/hues/color balance.

^^ Here is an example of what I mean by overexposing the reds. Poor seungho is looking as sunburnt as a cherry tomato. Note: if your original source is already overexposed with red, fix it! You can do this by applying the same basic principles I explained earlier. Try upping the cyan on the reds in selective color, or shifting the color balance to favor cyan over red with the color balance adjustment layer. You may also choose to favor the yellow over blue.

^^ Now this is straight-up whitewashing. This is what happens when you are not careful with your correction of yellow. I’m not saying you can’t touch the yellow slider or get rid of some yellow form the overall image (because sometimes it is very much needed), but you should be very mindful how your corrections can affect skin tones. If you decide to decrease saturation of yellows, or decrease yellow in the selective color section of the reds, do so with caution. If your reds are looking too pink, add some yellow in the red selective color, up the yellow and black of the yellow selective color.

^^ If you hit that happy medium, you can emphasize the natural skin tones without overexposure. Here the underlying tones are very much still in the yellow range. 

(Aside: Blending): I will very briefly talk about how to blend two gifs together. First make sure you’ve imported both your gifs into ps and converted them into the timeline format. On one of the gifs, right click the gif layer in the layer panel > duplicate layer > select the canvas of the gif you’d like to blend the gif with. On the canvas you just copied your second gif to, you can now drag the two layers around the on the canvas to get your desired positioning. On the top gif apply a layer mask. This can be found in your layers panel at the bottom, and is indicated by the white rectangle with the circle. Next, make sure you select the mask in the layer panel (it will show up as a white rectangle on the layer you applied the mask). Grab your paintbrush tool and make sure your color is set to black. Now you can effectively ‘erase’ the part of the top gif you don’t want to show anymore. I recommend setting your brush hardness to 0% to get a smoother transition. You can also play with the opacity settings. If you want to add back in a part you erased, just switch to a white paintbrush and you will be able to undo what you had just ‘erased’ with the black. When you merge the gifs, they will play the same number of frames. This means your blended gif length is limited by the gif with the fewer number of frames. You can move around your timeline layer and shorten the included portion by dragging either end of the timeline layer in until you get both gifs to play the parts you want.

CAPTIONS/SUBTITLES

I often get asked about my subtitle font/styling settings. Personally I find the best fonts for subtitles are calibri and arial. I use calibri with the following settings: 12-14px, bold italic plus faux bold, 1px black stroke (optional: drop shadow set to ‘multiply’ at around 85% opacity), and tracking (VA) set to 75. If you would like your subtitles to fade-in or fade-out you can apply the ‘fade effect’. Locate the b/w square icon in your timeline panel. Select fade and drag it onto your text layer in your timeline. You can then right click on the wedge shape to adjust your fade duration. I usually use 0.35s. If you drag and drop the effect towards the beginning of your text you can get the fade-in effect. To get the fade-out, simply drag and drop your fade towards the end of your text layer.

SAVING/EXPORTING YOUR GIF

We’ve reached the final stretch! If you need to adjust your frame rate timing: you will need to revert your timeline to frames. To do this: 1) Navigate to the icon of 4 bars at the right of your timeline panel. Select convert frames > flatten frames into clips. 2) Navigate to the icon of 4 bars at the right of your timeline panel. Select convert frames > convert to frame animation > when promoted hit ’ok’. If at this point you see more than one frame in your timeline panel, delete the frames until only one is left. In the example below I would delete the first frame by hitting the trash icon from the timeline panel.

If there is only one frame, leave it as is. 3) Navigate to the icon of 4 bars at the right of your timeline panel. Select ‘make frames from layers’ You will most likely need to delete the first frame in your timeline panel (it won’t have your coloring). Sometimes ps adds in some ‘blank’ frames as well, delete those too. Now you can adjust your timing. 

Once your timing is set: When you’re saving your gif, just keep in mind it must be under 10mb. Navigate to file > export > save for web. When it comes to your save settings I typically use either selective diffusion or adaptive diffusion. I also also occasionally use adaptive pattern (I find this is best for dark scenes without a lot of contrast). Set colors to 256, quality to bicubic and looping options to forever. If you want to preview your gif, hit the preview button in the bottom left. Otherwise, go ahead a hit ‘save’ and you’re DONE!

ADDITIONAL RESOURCES

Feel free to check out my ‘ps things’ tag for more photoshop stuff/mini tutorials. Additionally @/nibreon and the hackmd site I linked previously are your best resources for vs questions. If you would like to see my giffing process in motion feel free to check out this video. It’s sped up but you can slow down the playback. Additionally be sure to check out resource blogs like itsphotoshop for more helpful tutorials and resources.

If you reached the end of this beast, kudos to you! I hope this helps and never be afraid to reach out with any questions.

#gif tutorial #itsphotoshop #resources #kdramaedit #ps things #m:tut

[queenangst]

Prompt: a fear/distrust quirk that makes them wary or their allies. It could affect multiple people and make them afraid or mistrustful of each other, making them uncoordinated or attack each other, or it affects 1 person and make them afraid or mistrustful of others, or everyone else is afraid or mistrustful of them (for the 1 person affected, aizawa & student(s) being afraid of him, izuku being afraid of others, or shinsou w/ either, would be nice, but any characters are good!)

for my 30 min fic challenge / read more: ‘30 min fics’ tag

hold your heart fast [read on AO3]

When the fight was over, Izuku bounced from rooftop to rooftop, scanning the ruined streets and pushing through the sting of smoke as he searched. He tried not to think about all the worst outcomes, but that was never Izuku’s strong suit.

As he landed on the flat roof of a library, Izuku spotted who he was looking for. The surface under his feet groaned as he leapt down, activating One for All so he could land safely.

He used too much power—under his feet, the ground cracked, but Izuku didn’t care. His gaze was locked on the head of bone-white hair he’d found from above. A little girl, stranded alone in the streets.

“Eri!” he called, and her head jerked. He watched her hair ripple with the movement.

Izuku was next to her in an instant. He couldn’t describe the relief that swept through him, like a breath of fresh air, and pulled down the mouth guard that he’d kept up against the smoke.

“Hey,” he said softly. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

Eri looked at him. For a second, she seemed relieved, and then suddenly her entire expression shifted. She stumbled a step back.

“De- Deku?”

His name sounded strange in her mouth. She didn’t say it like she usually did, the way Izuku treasured; when they were laughing together, she said Deku with the sound of bells in her voice, and when he was the only person who could comfort her after a nightmare, she said Deku like she was looking at a hero. He always kept those moments close to him. Aizawa-sensei had once said Eri felt safe around Izuku, and that was important.

Izuku crouched down and made himself smaller, less threatening. He offered Eri a smile.

“Hey, squirt,” he said. “I’m sorry we got separated earlier. But the villain—the villain’s gone, okay? I’m here to take you—”

He had to pause for a moment, thinking, and then finished, “—home.”

Izuku didn’t move, but Eri took a step back. Her eyes were wide.

“No, you’re not,” she whispered.

His heart began to pound. What did she mean? Maybe the villain attack had scared her too much, or something had happened when Izuku was forced to leave her. Izuku bit his lip.

“It’s alright,” he said. “It’s all over now.”

Izuku held out a gloved hand, hoping she’d take it.

Eri shook her head. “You’re going to take me somewhere dangerous,” she said.

His heart squeezed. Izuku wanted to scoop her up in his arms and just run, until he could find Aizawa-sensei or the police or anyone to help, because he didn’t understand what was wrong. But then he would hurt Eri, and he didn’t want to.

“What’s wrong? Eri?” He inched closer. “ Please come with me.”

When Izuku reached for her, Eri cried out. Izuku drew back.

“Don’t come any closer,” she shouted, and threw out her hand. Izuku glanced at her horn. If she was scared and activated her Quirk by accident, on instinct to protect herself…

He held up his hands. “Okay. Okay.” Think, Izuku. “What- what if I called Aizawa-sensei? You- you’ll listen to Aizawa-sensei, right?”

The response was immediate. She nodded, and Izuku sighed and thanked the heavens.

Aizawa-sensei picked up after the first ring.

“Midoriya?”

“Sensei!”

“Where are you?” Aizawa-sensei demanded. Izuku almost cried, even though Aizawa-sensei sounded kind of upset, because just hearing his voice made Izuku feel better. “Is Eri with you?”

“Eri’s with me. She’s—” he looked over and lowered his voice. “Something’s wrong. She’s… scared of me, or something. I don’t know. Please hurry.”

Izuku gave him a location, and then Aizawa-sensei was there in what seemed like both half a minute and eternity. While waiting, Izuku kept trying to talk to Eri and ask her what was wrong, but eventually Eri went completely silent and refused to speak to him.

In the distance, a figure in black cut through the shapes of the buildings. He was running.

“Sensei,” Izuku whispered, then burst to his feet and into a shout. “Sensei, here!”

“Midoriya!” Aizawa-sensei shouted first. “Eri!”

Eri didn’t look back. She went to Aizawa-sensei, barrelling into his legs and clinging tightly. Aizawa-sensei looked down, murmuring something quietly, and then took her hand.

It kind of hurt, to be honest.

“Sensei,” Izuku said, “sensei, I took down the villain, well, one of them, and then I came looking for Eri—”

Aizawa-sensei’s eyes flashed. For only a split second he activated Erasure, and Izuku felt One for All lash out and then die down as Izuku’s Quirk disappeared. Then Aizawa-sensei frowned, shaking his head, and rubbed his temples.

“You…” he started, but he didn’t say anything else.

“Please,” Izuku said, “not- not you, too.”

Aizawa-sensei looked conflicted. He activated Erasure again like he wasn’t even aware he was using it.

“You’re my teacher,” Izuku tried. “You- all those times, you saved me, I don’t know what’s wrong but I promise—”

Aizawa-sensei pushed Eri behind him. Like he was protecting her, shielding her from a threat.

Not just a threat. Izuku.

The air was knocked out of his lungs. He gasped, trying to get it back, head spinning.

Eri was scared of him. Refused to go with him, and now Aizawa-sensei… Izuku didn’t get it. He didn’t get it at all.

“You know me,” he pressed.

Something seemed to click in Aizawa-sensei’s gaze. He stood straighter, lifting his head and expression smoothing over into something that was more neutral.

“Follow me,” he said, voice clipped, and that was that.

Eri wouldn’t stop peeking at him as Aizawa-sensei carried her to safety. When their eyes met, she would go back to hiding against him, cradled in Aizawa-sensei’s arms.

Aizawa-sensei took them to where there was already a makeshift medic section set up on the sidewalk. There were plenty of civilians there, and a few heroes, too, but Aizawa-sensei walked with confidence.

“Here,” he said, and waved down a medic. “My student. He’s bleeding.”

Izuku didn’t understand the change of tone, but he stepped forward, and the medic flinched.

“I can’t treat him,” the medic blurted. Her eyes flicked to Izuku and then away. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Aizawa-sensei’s face hardened, but he nodded.

“That’s alright,” he said after a moment, and Izuku looked down at his only injury, a cut on his arm from when he’d been a little careless. It wasn’t deep, though it did hurt. A pit formed in his stomach. He was being turned away, and Aizawa-sensei was allowing it.

“Sensei…”

“Just tell me something,” Aizawa-sensei said. “Are you scared?”

The medic paused. Swallowed.

“Yes,” she said finally, and Aizawa-sensei, who had one hand hanging by his side, clenched his fist. Izuku saw white knuckles.

“I see. Come on, Midoriya. I’ll treat you myself.”

They must have made a strange sight, sitting on the curb as the world moved around them. Aizawa-sensei carefully cleaned and began to bandage Izuku’s arm. His mouth was tight.

Behind him, Eri kept tugging on Aizawa-sensei’s sleeve.

“Let’s go home,” she would whisper. “Aizawa, please, I want to go home.”

And every time, Aizawa-sensei would say, “I know. I’m helping Deku.”

Patient, the way Mom was with Izuku when he was younger, and seemingly endless.

“You shouldn’t,” Eri said, so quietly Izuku almost missed it. But he didn’t.

“I have a theory,” Aizawa-sensei said suddenly, filling the negative space with his voice. “Concerning you, problem child. Something hasn’t made sense to me.”

For some reason that made Izuku laugh. “Nothing’s made sense to me.”

Aizawa-sensei nodded. “I think… the villain you were fighting. Supposedly she could manipulate emotions.” He tied off Izuku’s bandage. “But—it’s not quite that.”

“Wait,” Izuku said, mind whirring. He put his hand out; his fingers were trembling, too, held in the air. “Wait. When you asked—and—you’re scared of me?”

The corner of Aizawa-sensei’s mouth turned up. “I thought it wasn’t very logical,” he mused. He knocked the side of Izuku’s head. “Why am I scared of you?”

“But you’re helping me.”

“I live with fear,” Aizawa-sensei said, and before Izuku could figure out a response to that, he continued. “I’m scared of a lot of things. I’m just good at hiding it.”

“Oh,” Izuku said.

“And I’m more concerned about hurting you than you hurting me,” Aizawa-sensei admitted. “I’m always scared for you—not of you. It’s not your fault, I think. It’s a Quirk.”

Izuku felt his mouth tremble.

“You know you don’t have to be scared of me.” He caught Eri’s eye over Aizawa-sensei’s shoulder. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Aizawa-sensei shuddered, but he nodded. Took Eri’s hand, and pulled her gently closer.

“I’m trying to tell myself that,” Aizawa-sensei responded, and held out his other hand. It was shaking; Izuku’s hand still was, too, but they bridged the distance past their fears. Izuku held his breath as Aizawa-sensei guided Eri’s fingers until they were just touching.

“It’s alright,” Izuku promised. Eri’s face was pale, but she didn’t let go. “Eri. I know you’re scared, but it’s still me. I’m still Deku.”

Holding her, the soft wash of Rewind healing him; her fingers closing around Mirio’s cape; carrying Eri to a brighter world where she would be safe from harm, and safe with Izuku.

“You’re safe with me. Alright?”

“Deku,” Eri repeated in a shaky voice. Izuku promised to save her. Over, and again. This time, she didn’t say Deku like she used to; but she didn’t say Deku quite like she was scared. Almost—hopeful. “Okay, Deku.”

Taglist: If you’d like to be added or removed from this taglist (tagged when a new fic is posted), please let me know. If your blog is unmentionable, I cannot tag you.

@happi-tree @soyoudneverguess @granny-griffin @zannish @liarielle @ashemberss @gwogobo @honeyandsonshine @cinammon-cinner @paralumanleadmehome @ship-toast @gabs-2002 @the-reading-obsessed-stitchbear @weird-skittle @sapphire363 @fr0znmang0 @in-honor-of-you @cheese490 @anakinthetrashking @proheromidoriyashouto @lust-nd-love @firefletch @mamamiamia @frankiealexquin @crossroadofinterests @bornindundee @bleusmainpage @fleurie3am15inspo @scheherahzade

#bnha #bnha fanfic #izuku #eri #aizawa #my fanfic #30 min fics #anonymous

[ka-writes]

——————

Notes- Did I decide I was gonna write a fic at 2:00 AM? Yes yes I did... anyways I don’t have an archive account yet but I wanted to get it out there.... um here is chapter one of my space AU, because I absolutely fell in love with the AU.

——————

Inspired by:

Humans are Space Velociraptors

By:FreshRoses_InMyGarden_NeedTheRain

Some kids come from storks, others come from crashed spaceships

By: mmmajora

Home Again, Home Again

By: teeth_eater

All works can be found on Ao3

——————

Ohh also challenge if you wanna do it, fill in the Title! And another one... if you were an alien what question would you ask a human other than basic questions, like name and age.

Also suggestions are always appreciated! And if you wanna support my main blog it is kadoodle.. also I have no updating schedule so I will when I want to.

——————

Warnings: Cussing, mentions of tight spaces and characters being trapped, mentions of corpses, and needles.

——————

“Humans are [Insert text here]”

Chapter 1: Idiots kidnap the wrong kid..

Honestly, life hasn't been bad. His needs were met, most of the time, and he had a.. place to sleep…

Yeah no life wasn’t great.

Tommy was easily, barely, avoiding Social Services. Sleeping on benches and occasionally grass. He got whatever wasn’t wanted and had an official bag for the first time. He had some spare clothes, and no money. The authorities stopped looking for him after a while and the only main challenge was getting essentials.

No one would miss him. No one would look for him. Therefore he was the perfect target among many others. The only thing setting him apart was his sheer ability to survive, not a want, like many of the others, it was a fact he would survive. Not that his captors knew that of course.

Alternative: Tommy gets kidnapped by aliens and sbi rescues him.

——————

He woke up in a cage.

Not a cell or a room, a fucking cage.

There were a few others in various cages around the room. All of which were either dead or close to it. Most of the ones still alive had been there for months, possibly years. No one knew of course.

The smell of rotting bodies stenched the place with a coppery coating. The room wasn’t large but not quite small. It was dull grey with layers of grime settling on the floor and cages. The room was long and skinny, lined with cages against either wall in a zig zag format. The only light was coming from the small door window, which happened to be positioned right in front of Tommy. It glowed a faint yellow and was blurry, not allowing Tommy to see into the hall.

Shadows would occasionally pass by the window. None ever stopped at it. Causing the ever growing hunger to grow more. Once one had stopped at the door, not for more than a second, before it screeched. It was inhuman and sounded like a hurt hawk from one of those nature documentaries. Tommy shoved his hands onto his ears and waited for it to stop. The thing chuckled, not like a human, but something close to it.

——————

Tommy waited for what seemed like hours before something happened. The door opened, sliding into the ceiling. A weird looking creature stepped in. It looked like it had a porcelain mask over its face with a painted smiley face. There were no ears or hair, instead just more porcelain, which formed a spear which sat on shadows. The thing was wearing a lime green hoodie and black leather pants that seemingly faded into the creature's legs. The knees bent inwards causing it to look awfully awkward as it crouched near Tommy’s cage. The hands were long and lanky with no real palm. The creature also had a tail that looked close to how Tommy pictured a devil's tail to look. This was the first time in ages Tommy was glad to be behind bars.

The thing pointed at itself and said,

“Dream.”

In the most heavily accented English Tommy had ever heard. That didn’t matter as much of the fact that the seemingly painted smile moved with the words.

“Come.”

The creature unlocked the cage and half dragged Tommy out of the cage into what Tommy presumed to be the lab. He noticed a window. The only thing for miles was stars. He was in space. He had been kidnapped by Aliens. Fuck.

——————

Humans were a heavily avoided species. The things were what kids would expect to come out of their closet. They were feared, and for good reason.

The first ship to find Earth was ecstatic. Finding another intelligent species in what would’ve been deemed as a planetary desert was a scientific breakthrough. Causing the entirety of the media to go insane for a couple of years.. That was until the first ship ventured onto the planet. It was immediately shot down. The entire crew was killed and the entirety of the ship was destroyed in a matter of minutes. The ISF (Intergalactic Safety Force) deemed it as a no flight zone and claimed to punish anyone in the desert. Even so poachers smuggled humans and within days had their ship crashed.

The only ones allowed to take humans were scientists, who were specialized in taking care of difficult species. They were allowed to test on said species and do whatever they wanted, in the name of science of course. Most people didn’t care how they treated them and were really only interested in what could kill them.

Which is where Wilbur came in. He was a toxicologist, a scientist studying poisons, he also dealt with various potions and other chemical mixes. This knowledge is what gained his entry to the Dream Team Ship.

He had been testing on around nine different humans for the past six months on the celestial calendar. This time Dream, his boss and the captain, brought in a juvenile human. He was skinny and lanky. Clearly had been starving before being taken. He felt bad before shaking off his pity.

“V74 and V83. Make sure he can communicate beforehand.” Dream promptly stated before leaving the kid in the room.

Wilbur tried not to think about his terrified face, before he clipped on the translator. Usually it is worn on the back of the head, since humans brains are vastly different than most species, it is clipped to the left side of the head.

The translator looks like a simple device when in reality it took dozens of celestial years to perfect it. It’s a small silver disk that ingrains into the part of the brain that controls communicating. After the body gets used to the device it can translate any language into one you understand instantly.

It took a couple more years for the translator to incorporate the estimated 7,000 languages spoken on Earth. For a planet that has been isolated it has a more complex and diverse set of cultures and languages, than Pellucidian has had in centuries. To say Wilbur was jealous, wouldn’t be far from the truth. Not that he studied cultures for a living. It was something that always interested him.

He put the device on the kid’s head and grimaced at the pain that was on the kid’s face. He quickly dried up the blood and mixed a solution that would ease the pain. It was clear and tasted like water, which is the only way they got humans to take the pain reduction.

The kid relaxed for a spilt second before tending at the unfamiliar setting.

“Where am I?” He snapped, causing Wilbur to jump back a bit, before collecting himself and standing up.

“The Dream Team craft’s labatory.” The kid’s face flashed with panic for a split second, “You have two testings scheduled for today. It will go quickly.”

“Will it be painful?” The kid asked. As standard for testing, Wilbur ignored the question and measured the substances. He quickly cleaned the puncture spot before giving him the needle.

The kid winced in pain. Wilbur swiftly led him to the testing chair. It had restraints that moved with the patient's body, which prevented bruising while keeping them in place. Wilbur clicked them on and sat at the desk located to the left of the kid.

“What did you inject into me?” The kid asked clearly trying to fight off the anesthetic.

“A dosage of Lidocaine, which is an anesthetic for your species. It’s only to numb pain that may come with the solutions we will be using today.” The kid’s face flashed with a deeper panic than before, causing Wilbur to tense. “We won’t start yet, since we have a list of questions to go through before we begin.” Wilbur lied. He hated testing people, especially kids. Dream of course didn’t care, like the rest of the Dreamon species. It made him sick. That was when he made a split second decision. Hoping he could get a distress signal out, without alerting the other crew members. He was gonna get the kid off the ship, at the next stop of course. Which was in three celestial hours.

The kid scoffed, clearly not believing the lie. He paused a moment thinking over his options before he smirked,“Fine. Ask me what you want bitch-boy!” Wilbur gasped, clearly not anticipating the insult.

——————

Chapter 1 End

1406 words

——————

End notes: Why the hell does google docs make it so hard to copy and paste??

Also I had to do some intense googling for this... I hope you enjoyed!

(Also also this is my first ever fanfic... please give feedback and reblog!!)

Minor mistakes are forgiven... don’t expect me to be perfect... I am dyslexic.

——————

Tommy: ....

Wilbur: ....

*intense starring*

Wilbur POV: I am kidnapping it.

——————

Chapter 2:

#my writing #my fanfic tag #okay 2 rb #tommy mcyt #wilbur soot #dream mcyt #dream smp fanfiction #sbi au #space au

[hoodharlow]

“Listen, I really don’t like you, but you have my Moose.”

AN: I stole and tweaked the line from a request I sent @mashlums​ (“Listen, I really don’t like you, but you have kittens, so I’m going to be over a lot.”). This is part of @sadistmichael​ Michael Fic Week. This is what I had originally planned, but it came to me. This is part of an upcoming mini series that I have planned.

Warnings: awkward tension, brief mentions of sex

Word Count: almost 2k

Celeste looked at Hunter in shock. She just couldn’t wrap it around her head. She was forced to leave the clinic for a mandatory two week vacation and Harry Styles visited. All because her best friend accidentally stole Calum Hood’s dog.

She looked over the files for the appointments she had. It was going to be a slow day. Mostly vaccines and a physical, which was the first appointment of the day.

She removed her lab coat and draped it over her computer chair. She had to start claiming a stool because families would come in with three or more members, plus their pet, leaving her chairless. She needed the chair. Especially when she was looking at a small animal and didn't want to crouch over them. One of her mentors in vet school explained that crouching over animals made them feel intimidated which was why they tended to feel uncomfortable at vet visits. She reached for her iced matcha latte and took a quick sip, listening to her best friend talk about her 'soul mate.'

She didn't want to be a Debby downer, so she let Hunter go off.

The last time Celeste believed she 'found' her soulmate was a college party her senior year. She thought she met the coolest guy ever. He was nothing like the guys she usually found at those parties. The guy seemed kind, well traveled, open minded and sensible. She had created this whole image of who she thought he was. But boy was she wrong. He turned out to be some lying jerk that was looking for a quick fuck. As they say in Mean Girls, 'he doesn't even go here.' No he belonged to some rock band Hunter’s little sister listened to.

“... It was so unexpected, I don’t even know. It just fucking happened.” Hunter said shyly. 

Celeste was only half listening but knew that glint in her eyes, she was really infatuated with the guy. She could tell that the connection Hunter had with the singer was deeper than what she told her.  

“I imagine.” Celeste laughed. “Ask him if he has any single friends for your adorable veterinarian friend."

"Obviously."

They chatted up for a bit, joking that Hunter was going to hook her up with Zayn just so they would make them do a mini One Direction reunion concert, until it was time for the clinic to open.

Hunter's family owned a dog sanctuary that also had a pet clinic and dog park across the street. Celeste had fallen in love with helping animals since the first time Hunter's mom helped her mend a bird's wing when their families went camping when they were younger. In high school, she volunteered at the sanctuary and sometimes shadowed Hunter's mom in surgeries. Fast forward to now she's 26 and on her way to make partner. 

One of the vet techs knocked at her door.  "Dr. Montenegro, your eleven o'clock is here." 

"Of course, send them in." Celeste smiled.

"If you wanted me to leave, you should have said it and not faked an appointment." Hunter faked being hurt. 

"I'll see you at 'Case del Cafe.'" Celeste rolled her eyes at her. 

Hunter walked out, so Celeste quickly read over the file. She smiled to herself when she saw the animal's picture clipped to the files. It was Moose. She remembered like it was just yesterday that she was saying goodbye to her because she had found her forever home. She was nearly a year old then.

Moose was one of the most precious animals she had ever encountered. She was friendly to anyone that approached her. 

"Dr. Montenegro, here's the patient." The vet tech said. They held open the door for Moose and her owner. 

Celeste nearly dropped her clipboard when she saw who it was.

***

Michael never forgot a face. Especially one that was under him. He saw how her hands tightly gripped the clipboard, knowing she had a strong grip. His back was scratched and sore after spending the night with her.

"Could you please place your pet on the examining table?" Celeste asked after a moment. 

Michael nodded and picked up Moose, placing her where Celeste needed her. He watched her slip on some gloves and grab her stethoscope. 

"Long time no see, huh." Michael awkwardly said. He hated absolute silence. He would rather make awkward conversation than to be surrounded by complete silence. "Last time I saw you was…”

"When I was asleep in my dorm room back in Davis." She added curtly.

"Right…"Michael licked his lips trying to think of something else to say. "About that night—”

"How did you end up with Moose? The person that adopted her was an Irish woman who ran a doggie mom lifestyle blog." She asked him. She raised Moose, so she was standing and checked her pulse. 

"That would be my ex." He chuckled. "We broke up and I kept Moose. I didn't know she came from here until I saw her picture on the 'Fur-Ever Home' wall." Celeste hummed and kept examining Moose.

Michael sat on one of the chairs and thought back to that night.

The band had a show at UC Davis. It was part of the university's concert festival. He had spotted her with a group of girls. One of them held a poster that said 'Let's fucking dance in my bed, Calum Hood.'

Celeste was probably the only person in the quad that was sitting down. He tried getting her attention the entire set list, but no dice. She was literally on a picnic blanket typing away on her laptop. He sent one of the band's security to give her his number. When they handed her the post-it note, she laughed at their face and sent them back.

Later that night, the guys snuck out of their hotel to go to a party some fraternity was hosting. Celeste was also there; it was like destiny was giving him another chance to redeem himself.

"Hi, I'm Michael." He said approaching her. 

"Celeste," She said coolly. "Have we met? You look familiar… Wait, are you in Dr. Singh's biological anatomy class?"

"Uh…" He didn't know what to say. He felt relieved that she didn't recognize him in a way. Like he could be himself without being scrutinized through a microscope.

He didn't know how, but he spent the better half of the party listening to her talk about how much she loves animals and her hopes of becoming a veterinarian. He learned that when she wasn't volunteering at the school's vet clinic or working at Asi es la Vida, a clothing boutique where a bunch of rich ladies shopped, she was studying. She joked about how earlier in the evening some dumb band served as good white noise for her to study.

"Do you wanna dance?" She randomly asked him.

"I'm not the best." He replied honestly.

"Dude, it's not like we're dancing bachata or quebradita." She laughed. She reached for his hand and guided him to the makeshift dance floor of the fraternity's living room. She turned around and placed his hands on her waist before wrapping  her arms around him and smiling sweetly at him. "Just follow my lead."

'Aullando' filled the room. Celeste pushed herself closer to Michael's waist, guiding him. She swayed her hips to the beat of the music. 

The way her hips moved against him left Michael with thoughts of what she's capable of doing in a more private place with fewer clothes. 

Their eyes met once the song ended. Michael slowly leaned down to meet her lips, but Celeste was impatient. She pulled him into an urgent kiss. One that left them wanting more of each other. 

Neither knew how they ended back in Celeste's dorm so fast. It didn't matter. What did matter was their need to be naked and savoring each other’s bodies. That was how their night ended after three rounds of passion, urgency, and unexpected feelings.

Michael woke the following morning cramped in a small bed. He looked around, unsure of his surroundings. He saw her face, nearly covered in his hoodie, and it all came back to him. The mini concert, the frat party, and her on all fours chanting his name.

He found his phone on the charger and checked the time. 8:34. He cursed and began getting dressed. The band needed to check out from their hotel rooms at 9:30. They were flying out to Portland for a show. As he left the room his feet caught a hoodie large enough to be his size. He took it as a memento of an unforgettable night with an unforgettable girl.

"Alright, all set." Celeste's voice brought him back. He blinked a few times, gathering his thoughts.

"Thank you." Michael said. He picked up Moose and set her on the floor. "I'm going to need a feces sample just to check for anything we don't want in her stomach. Front desk will explain all that." She walked over to the computer and began clicking and filling out forms.

"Listen… about that night. I apologize for leaving so abruptly and not saying goodbye." Michael said, sincerely. He actually had written a note for her but with the rushing, he never left it. He only realized he had when Luke pointed it out.

"Doesn't matter anymore. The past is in the past." She shrugged. She locked the computer and stood from her chair. "I have another appointment in a bit, and one of the techs has to clean the room. So…" 

"Oh, right. Well, thank you."

Michael watched her bend down and give Moose a few belly rubs. Celeste scratched behind Moose's ears and kissed the top of her head. It reminded him of Calum when he would go over to his house to work on music, only to play and cuddle with Moose.

"Dr. Montenegro, the 11:45 called to reschedule…" 

Michael took it as his cue to leave. The receptionist at the front desk explained everything from why they needed a feces sample to how to get a good sample for testing. 

He stalled a bit hoping Celeste would come out, but nothing. He turned to Moose. "Let's go to the park. Maybe Uncle Cal and Duke wanna join us." 

***

Celeste had extra time to kill before meeting Hunter at 'Casa del Cafe.' She let her feet guide her to the dog park where she sat under a tree and listened to an audio book. 

At some point she shut her eyes and got lost in the story until she felt a wet nose on her arm followed by squeaks from a toy. She opened her eyes and nearly cried when she saw Moose holding the squeaky monkey she gave her. 

"Moose, leave the la— oh, it's you." Michael said. He sounded surprised. Mostly because of the hoodie she was wearing.

Celeste took the toy from Moose and threw it up in the air like she used to. Moose caught it and bolted. Michael watched her run around the perimeter of the fenced area. Then she came back and gave Celeste the toy to throw again.

"Love, no." Michael interjected when she placed the toy in Celeste's hand once more.

"It's fine. She's good company." She smiled at him.

"That she is."

After that Michael and Celeste found some sort of balance where they felt comfortable with talking with each other. At some point Hunter had texted Celeste to reschedule, and Calum texted Michael about some emergency with Tony, one of his friends, so he couldn't make it.

Michael took the opportunity and offered Celeste lunch at the dog friendly coffee shop. 

“Listen, I really don’t like you, but you have my Moose, so I guess I can tolerate you for another hour if it means I get to spend time with her."

Taglist: @rebelwith0utacause​ @sexgodashton​ @myloverboyash​ @spicycal​ @5-secondsofcolor​ @another-lonely-heart​ @findingliam-o​ @idontneedanyone​ @calumscalm​ @cherryxwildflower​ 

#michael 2020 #michael clifford one shot #michael clifford fan fic #michael clifford imagine #michael clifford fan fiction #michael clifford imagines #mihcael clifford series

[commander-rahrah]

RESIDENCY: SECOND CHANCES (AN OPEN HEART FIC): PART THREE

Pairing: MC (Jordynne Holland) X Ethan Ramsey X Bryce Lahela; MC X Bryce; MC X Ethan. Please note that both pairings are present in this fan fiction — off & on, at the same times, and the relationships do ebb & flow. Please keep this in mind. Thank you.

Masterlist: Click Here

Chapter Rating: T

Word Count: 5400+

Description: Ethan returns home from the Amazon thinking he is ready to face reality. Jordynne, Ethan and Bryce are all present in this chapter.

Disclaimer: Characters, storyline, and parts of the dialogue are taken from Pixelberry’s Choices. They fully own the characters, dialogue, backgrounds, etc. MC Jordynne’s background is my own creation, based loosely off of MC in-game’s personality and provided with more details.

Author’s Note: Well this took much longer than anticipated! Thank you to everyone for being patient, and reaching out about Residency! It means a lot to know people are still reading it, and are waiting for updates! I am nervous + excited for Chapter 10 to finally come out next Saturday! How are you feeling about it? 

As always any likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated. If you would like to be added/removed from the tag list please just let me know!

Taglist: @drakewalkerfantasy @owleyes374 @lahelable @mayar-mahdy @paisleylovergirl @nicquix @emilymay100 @octobereighth @llamasgrl @timmagicktoad @lilyofchoices @msjpuddleduck @mfackenthal @paulfwesley @ccolz88-blog @mindlessdreaminxo @jooous @lapisreviewsstuff @choicesarehard @themingdynasty @omgjasminesimone @hopelessly-shipper  @binny1985  @perriewinklenerdie  @jens-diamondchoices  @indiacater  @chasingrobbie  @writingsbymissy  @dimitriwife  @tacohead13  @amy-choices @mrsmatsuo @checkurwindow​ @imrookieramsey​ @mrsmatsuo​ @bitchloveskcbaseball​

Previous Updates: Residency — Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve Part Thirteen Part Fourteen Part Fifteen Part Sixteen Part Seventeen Part Eighteen Part Nineteen

Residency: Second Chances -- Part One Part Two

PART THREE

And just like that he was back on a plane.

Ethan had spent the remaining month of his project with the WHO in a daze. He threw himself into his work — even more than before. He didn’t give himself a moment to stop, to idle. If he did the thoughts would creep in like they had on that beach. Or like when he had foolishly opened up to that nosy Doctor in camp.

So he just kept going and going and going.

And now he sat on the plane home, staring blankly at the TV screen in the back of the chair in front of him. A book was in his hands — the front cover curled in underneath the back as he held onto it tightly. Probably too tightly. He watched the tiny animation of the plane slowly tick forward — representing them soaring through the sky. Tiny white letters flashed along the bottom of the screen.

6 hours and 14 minutes remaining.

6 hours and 14 minutes until he would have to face his reality.

He let out a loud sigh — his head falling back onto the headrest.

“Not a good book?”

Ethan’s dark brows furrowed at the voice — annoyed at whoever was speaking so loudly. Adjusting himself in his seat, he moved his head forward again before he realized that the question was being directed to him.

The woman across from him had angled her body towards him, leaning out in the tiny hallway of the plane with a soft smile on her face as she waited for him to reply.

The furrow in his brow deepened. “What?” He barked back.

“Is your book not good? I was eyeing it in the airport store before we boarded.”

“Actually no. It’s not good. You saved yourself $5.” His words were short and clipped. Final. This stranger needed to learn some social grace and leave him alone.

“Oh. Right.” She seemed to have gotten the hint, and he watched from the corner of his eye as she turned back to sit in her seat properly. He looked at the small screen again.

6 hours and 13 minutes remaining.

“I’m sorry... but why isn’t it good?” Her voice rang out again, but it sounded anything but apologetic.

Ethan let out a long breath through his nose, flashing the woman a look before replying, “It’s fiction.”

“So?”

“Fiction, fantasy — that’s what people want. But reality is what people need.”

“Oh. You’re one of those.” She turned away from him again, grabbing onto the magazine in her lap and starting to flick through the pages with feigned interest. 

His jaw set in a hard line, “One of those what’s?”

“A Mr. Serious-Type. You can’t read for pleasure, you only read for knowledge. You probably read textbooks for fun.” She rolled her eyes.

Ethan almost felt his look twitch into a smile. She had almost read him right, “I write textbooks for fun.”

She looked at him quizzically, “What are you a professor?”

“Doctor.”

“Oh wow.” Her eyebrows shot up, “And I guess a pretty good one too if you write textbooks?”

Images of the patients he had failed flashed in his mind. Dolores being wheeled into emergency surgery to never return. Choking his failure out to Naveen and begging him to stay in the hospital anyways. “Most of the time.”

“I’m just a photographer.”

Apparently this stranger was insistent on keeping up this absurd conversation. “That has its own value in the world. Don’t discredit what you do.”

She let out a chuckle, “I think doctor is higher up than photographer.”

His eyebrows furrowed, “You couldn’t be more wrong.”

The woman blinked at him in surprise, “Do you usually argue with strangers on airplanes?”

“Do you usually force conversations with strangers on airplanes?” He countered.

A smirk spread across her face as she settled into her seat a little more. “No. But you haven’t checked the flight tracker in over 3 minutes.”

“I—,” Ethan’s blue eyes flashed to the tiny screen again.

6 hours and 10 minutes remaining.

He gave her a bewildered stare. “You did that on purpose?!”

“I was watching you watching that thing. It was driving me crazy.”

He set his jaw in a hard line, feeling annoyed. “I — “

She flashed him a wide grin, “You’re welcome Dr. Serious.”

Ethan sat in stunned silence for a moment. This woman’s antics ... they reminded him of her. Of Jordynne. Isn’t this exactly what she would do? Poke the bear. Distract him enough to get himself out of his own head. Bring him back down to earth.

“So are you counting down the minutes because you’re so excited to get home? Or because you’re dreading getting back?” She asked sincerely, a half smile on her face as she waited for his answer.

He pursed his lips for a moment as he thought. This whole trip has been about running away. Escaping to get a break and restart. But he had missed home. He had missed his work. He thought of Jenner living with his father for the past two months. All the great coffee he could have once he was back at home.

Ethan let out a conflicted sigh, “Is both a valid answer?”

“Completely.”

“Then both.”

That was two strangers now that he had confided in. Who was he? He felt like he could barely recognize the man speaking right now.

But he realized he didn’t have anyone else to speak to about it. The two people he would open up to were the two people he couldn’t. He didn’t want to disappoint Naveen even more than he already had. And Jordynne... well, that was the whole point of this. To not talk to her. To not open up.

He was supposed to go back to how things were before. Restart, refresh.

Back to the cynic. The man of convictions. Dr. Serious. Dr. Terminator.

So why couldn’t he?

______________________________________________________________________

A content sigh left Ethan as he settled onto the familiar stool in Donahue’s.

Now this was the old Ethan Ramsey. Sitting at the corner of the bar, drink in hand away from the crowd of people.

This is what he needed. To get back into his normal routine, to fall back into his own rhythm. A night at the tacky bar was exactly what he would be doing the night before his first day at work.

Reggie approached his corner of the bar, tossing a rag over his shoulder before leaning up against the counter casually. “So you’re back.”

Ethan nodded, taking another swig of his beer.  

“And you were...?” His question trailed off as he waited for him to jump in.

“In the Amazon.”

“For vacation?”

“For work.” He said simply, placing the pint glass down carefully.

“You’re a weird man,” Reggie said with furrowed brows. “You should check out the beer garden — while it’s still nice out.” He said simply before turning to go help a couple of people standing at the bar.

A half-smirk spread across his face. Short conversations like that was exactly why Ethan liked Reggie. They made remarks, he gave him his drinks and he let him be.

Just like how things used to be.

Good — it was already working. The reset was working.

Stretching off of his stool, Ethan grabbed a hold of his drink before weaving around the crowd of people and tables. He decided to take Reggie’s suggestion — the view of downtown Boston was nice out there too and maybe it would be a little less crowded.

As he went to step outside his feet suddenly planted to the ground unmoving.

He was frozen in the door frame leading to the beer garden — condensation dripping from his beer, pouring over his warm hand.

There she was.

He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t prepared himself for her to be here. It was one of her haunts now too.

Everything he had forced back in South America — all the memories and thoughts — all of that work evaporated. Like that — they were gone.

He had forgotten the effect Jordynne had on him. Miles away in the rainforest had made him forget the real, visceral effect she had on him. His palms had turned warm and sweaty, his heartbeat was picking up and had started to climb up his throat.

How was it that she was the first person he noticed in the crowded venue?

She was dressed for the warm weather — her tan shoulders and collarbone revealed in a yellow tube top. Her blonde hair was pulled half up, framing her face that had gotten even more freckled the last couple of months. She was clinking her pint of beer with her friends, a wide smile stretching over her pink lips. But confusion replaced it as her eyebrows furrowed, then her eyed searched around the beer garden until they landed on his frozen figure.

Her expression softened — the furrow in her brows disappearing and her mouth opening in surprise.

Ethan’s body unconsciously carried him over to the table, his grip tightening on his glass as he got closer. He hesitated in front of her table moment, before

finally meeting her green eyes, “Rookie.” He said with a nod, waiting for her reaction.

She hesitated for a moment, licking her lips before speaking, “It’s good to have you back, Doctor Ramsey.”

“Yeah...,” Doctor Ramsey. Not Ramsey. Not Ethan. Professional, formal, distant. “Good to be back.” He gathered himself up, before casually flicking his eyes towards the rest of the table. He didn’t fail to notice Lahela and his proximity to her — his shoulder almost pressed up to hers. He had a hard to read expression on his face — which Ethan assumed could only mean that they had started things back up again. “Doctors. Enjoy your evening.”

He marched back into the main bar quickly — his heart pounding. He found his familiar stool and slid back into it — holding himself steady with the edge of it for just a moment.

Reggie eyed him, before turning his back to him. There was the sound of a glass clinking before he silently slid a filled tumbler towards him. “You look like you need something a little harder than your beer.”

Ethan gave him a warning glance, before pushing his beer to the side and taking a large gulp of the scotch.

“So it’s still her, hey?” The bartender asked, watching him as he put glasses into the dishwasher — steam swirling around his forearms.

His thick brows furrowed, and nose scrunched up, “What?”

“Blondie. I don’t know her name. I know she’s out in the beer gardens right now— that why you came running back in here?” Reggie’s eyebrows were raised high on his forehead.

Ethan set his jaw into a hardline. “I’m not sure I know who you’re talking about.” 

“Uh-huh, sure... Blonde, legs for days, works at that life and death factory of yours.” He put a glass down for a moment so he could fix Ramsey with a good state, “Actually, I think the last time I saw you in my bar all those months ago you were leaving with her.”

That was the last time Ethan was here. The celebration after her hearing. They had barely lasted 5 minutes in the bar before they had left together in that yellow cab.

“Touché.” He raised the scotch tumbler up in a mock salute before taking another gulp.

“Don’t try to pull one over Reggie. I see all.”

“She still in here a lot?” His finger ran over the rim of the glass as he waited for the bartender to answer.

“Not every day like the usual riff-raff from the hospital. But enough that I recognize her.”

“Have you...,” He hesitated for a moment. Should he really ask it? But his curiosity got the best of him, “Have you noticed her with anyone?”

“She doesn’t come here alone if that’s what you mean. And she’s also not dancing on tabletops and sneaking away with anyone either.”

“Right.” He wasn’t sure what to do with that information.

Ethan went on high alert as he noticed Jordynne slip inside from the beer garden — waiting at the corner of the bar to place an order.

Reggie noticed her just after him and he gave Ethan a knowing look before taking her order.

He had to keep forcing his blue eyes away from her — staring down at the amber liquid in his drink, the neon lights behind the bar, the never-ending commercials on the television.

But the sound of shattering glass caused his ears to perk up, and he turned to look at Jordynne immediately. She was standing in shock — her mouth opened in surprise.

He watched as the aftermath of a scene unfurled. He instantly recognized Thorne from the hospital — clutching his mangled hand to his chest, his jaw was set in a hardline. A young woman was next to him — her face was blank but he could see her grasping her bloody leg — pieces of glasses were sticking out of it.

Ethan pushed off of his stool, abandoning his drink and marching over to the trio quickly.

But before he could react Jordynne had rushed forward, grabbing the back of the Thorne’s jacket and pulling him back away from the young woman with a strength Ethan didn’t know she had, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She snarled — her face was filled with fury as her voice rang out.

“This bitch broke my hand! I’m a plastic surgeon! Do you have any idea how valuable my hands are? I’m pressing charges! And by the time my lawyers are through with her—“

Her white teeth bared at him as she went to speak again, stepping closer to him. But Ethan got there before she could do anything else.

“Garret. That’s enough.” He growled, putting his body in front of Jordynne, one hand behind him softly pushing on her torso — stopping her from coming forward. The other hand was raised up at Throne, ready to push him back a lot harder if he needed to. “You still got one good hand, don’t you? Put it to use and call yourself a cab.” He glared down at the man, his nostrils flared.

He felt Jordynne’s body disappear from against his hand and heard footsteps retreating. He didn’t break his eye contact with Thorne — trusting Jordynne could handle helping the other woman.

“Get out of my way Ramsey, that bitch owes me.” He spat, trying to look over his shoulder to see where the woman had went.

“Did you hear me? I said call yourself a cab.” He repeated, enunciating each word.

Thorne pushed his face closer to Ethan’s, flaring his nostrils at him, “You might have people in your pocket in the hospital, Ramsey. But out here, this is the real world. And you don’t get to dictate me.”

“Is that so?” Before he could react, Ethan angrily grabbed onto his collar and pulling him for Reggie to see. “Shall I?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Get that idiot out of here!” He yelled as he crossed over the bar with a broom in hand.

“Gladly,” Ethan snarled, dragging Garrett towards the exit.

“That blonde chick — she your pet or something, Ramsey? You got real heated as soon as she was involved.” His voice was a bit strained as Ethan dragged him out of the bar. Luckily there was a yellow cab idling nearby and he was able to wave it over.

“Shut up and get in the cab.” He said through gritted teeth, doing his best to ignore the comment.

“‘Cause I swear I recognize her from somewhere...” He hinted, catching onto the door of the cab with his good hand to stop Ethan from pushing him into it.

“You know what I seem to remember? How you got your sexual harassment case at the hospital buried. I wonder what would happen if you were charged with it outside of the hospital too? Might not be very good for practicing.” Ethan pulled out his phone, his thumb hovering over the emergency services button.

“Fine.” He spat, “But I won’t forget this.”

“Neither will I.” Ethan pushed the man into the car with a hit more force than was necessary. A growl escaped him as he watched Thorne’s smirk through the window as the cab pulled away.

A heavy sigh escaped his lips. That was the exact opposite of what he had expected for his first night back home. With heavy steps, he walked back into the bar — feeling a couple of stares on him as soon as he entered.

Jordynne’s green eyes found his as he walked back to his stool. They were crinkled with worry for a moment before the look suddenly vanished at the sounds of her friends coming in from the beer garden.

“Whoa, Jordynne what went down in here?” Elijah asked, rolling around the broken glass by the bar carefully.

“You know Dr. Thorne, the plastic surgeon? He wouldn’t leave this girl alone. It got intense.” She crossed her arms over her torso, a look of disgust on her face as she looked over the aftermath of the scene.

Reggie tutted and shook his head as he swept up the broken glass as she told them what happened.

“I always knew that guy was gross.” Jackie matched Jordynne’s expression.

“Alright, people, last call. You ain’t gotta go home, but you can’t stay here.” Reggie stopped sweeping for a moment, waving his hand to get everyone’s attention.

“Already? I’m not even close to ready for tomorrow to start.” Ethan watched from his stool as Jordynne wrapped her arms around her torso — suddenly looking nervous.

“Like Reggie said, last call doesn’t have to mean ‘go home’. We can stay out and explore.” Bryce grabbed onto her elbow easily, flashing her his signature smile.

Ethan did his best to keep his face neutral.

“Screw that, I’m starving. Let’s get something to eat.”

“You guys are nuts. I’m twenty minutes away from falling asleep on my wheels!” 

“Good thing we can get you home in fifteen then.” Sienna smiled down at Elijah as she grabbed onto the handles of his chair. “You coming, Jordynne?”

Jordynne’s eyes darted over the other patrons leaving the bar, before looking back to Ethan on his usual stool on the corner of the bar.  

“What? Last call doesn’t apply to you?” She raised a dark brow at him.

“Reggie and I have an arrangement.” He held onto his glass a bit tighter.

“An arrangement? Is that what you call friendship?” A smile almost spread across her pink lips.

“I guess you forgot. I don’t have friends. But… I wouldn’t mind you joining me if you were so inclined.” He offered, doing his best to sound casual.

This could be a good way to start their professional relationship. Her fellowship would be starting tomorrow since it marked his return to work. They needed to start things right. Like they should have all those months ago.

“You coming Jordy?” Bryce asked again. Ethan could swear he saw his smile flickering a bit. The usually confident surgeon looked unsure.

“Umm…,” She hesitated for a moment, tucking a lock of her golden blonde hair behind her ear, “You guys go on ahead. I just want to quickly check in about tomorrow with Dr. Ramsey.”

“Okay. Just don’t stay out too late… Aurora’s dropping off the rest of her stuff before work tomorrow, remember?” Sienna jerked her head towards a slightly frowning Bryce. It definitely sounded like a warning.

She blinked at her friend for a moment, before nodding, “I know. It's just about the fellowship.”

Ethan turned back around in his stool as she said goodbye to her friends.

He was suddenly reminded of the night after her first day as an intern as he heard the scrape of the stool next to him. She had sidled up to him so easily then, but today she seemed more hesitant.

He looked over his shoulder at her, keeping his face composed. “Rook— er, Jordynne. Sorry,” He grimaced slightly, “Force of habit.”

She shrugged before she settled into the spot next to him. Usually, he was acutely aware of how little space she left between them when she was nearby. Now he was aware of how much more space she left. He watched her swallow before nodding at his leather jacket, “We’ve got ourselves a brand new Ethan Ramsey.”

He tugged at the hem of it self-consciously, “This jacket’s been through a lot with me.” After wearing it almost every day the last month of his trip it had started to mold to him.

“It suits you,” A half-smirk spread across her pink lips.

“Duly noted.” He put his tumbler glass down carefully, before scratching at his red-brown facial hair, “And the beard?”

Her green eyes flickered down to his new beard. He swore she lingered on his lips for a moment, but she looked back up with pursed lips, “It looks good on you.”

Ethan had to force his lips from upturning, instead, he continued to rub his jawline. “I’ve gotten used to it.”

Looking around his shoulders, he noted that the other patrons had left. It was only him, her and Reggie now — who was giving Ethan a pointed look. “Why don’t we move outside? It’ll be winter before we know it. Might as well enjoy the weather while we can. You want something to drink?”

She nodded in agreement, pushing herself up out of her stool, “Whatever you’re having.”

Reaching across the bar, Ethan snagged one of the bottles of good scotch still sitting in the bar well. “Hey, Reggie, we’re borrowing this.” The bartender handed him two clean glasses, before waving them off.

The pair headed back out to the beer garden — that was much more peaceful now that the crowd of people had left. He headed to the center fire pit, falling into the padded outdoor couch next to it. Jordynne slotted in beside him.

They sat in silence for a moment, looking up at the glowing lights strung up above them. The sun was just starting to set — turning the sky and pinky-orange.

“I can see why you like it here,” She finally spoke up. She sounded a little breathless.

“Because nobody’s annoying me?” He leaned back in his seat with a smirk.

“More or less. It’s peaceful.” She stared into the flames of the small fire pit, going quiet again.

Ethan wasn’t sure how to fill the quiet. It wasn’t a comfortable silence. He felt awkward — he didn’t really know how to do this anymore with her. Did he?

“So,” She broke the silence for him, “This Dr. Thorne guy. Should I be worried about him?” Her eyes moved from the fire to her drink.

“He has some influence.” He admitted, “Just stay out of his way for a couple weeks, and he’ll entirely forget who you are.”

“But not who you are. Should you be worried?” Her eyebrows were knitted together, concern on her face.

That was so Jordynne. Of course, she was worried about him, not herself.

“I’ve worked too hard to get to where I am to give a damn what someone like him thinks.” He shook his head, letting out a huff, “Don’t think twice about that asshole. What you did back there, helping that girl? You did the right thing. That’s all that matters.”

She shook her head back at him, but her eyes remained low, “We both know that’s not always true.”

“Hmm,” He felt heart pang, his stomach filling with guilt, “Well it should be. You’re too young to be a cynic like me.”

“I’m not being cynical. I just learned my lesson. You saw what happened last year. I almost lost my license for breaking the rules to help Mrs. Martinez. And I would do it again. Just like I would step in to help someone being harassed again. But people got hurt because of me — Mrs. Martinez’s family suffered. That’s not right.” She was chewing her lip as she spoke, visibly bothered.

“The lesson there is that if you put your patients first, you will always be vindicated in the end. That’s the lesson.” His blue eyes studied her, his thick brows meeting in the middle. “What you did just now was brave. You’ve always been brave in the face of disaster and death, of course... But it’s different to do it to a superior. To stand up to them for what’s right.”

A small smile spread across her face. It looked half-hearted, but it was still a smile. “It’s not as brave as venturing into the depths of the Amazon to fight an epidemic, that’s for sure.”

His heart fell. He stared into his drink for a moment before speaking, “That wasn’t bravery.”

His mouth went dry as he thought of what to say. He could hear the music from inside the bar trailing outside softly. Country music — he frowned.

Jordynne broke the silence before he could. “Ethan, why did you leave?”

He had avoided the question when she had asked before — when she had looked up at him with those big Bambi eyes in the parkade as he went to leave. Pleading with for a bit of honesty.

“I —,” His voice broke slightly, “I needed space.” He finally admitted, “I needed to reset before...”

“Before we worked together again?” She finished his sentence for him.

He nodded, “Exactly. So consider us reset. I won’t cross boundaries with you again. Your professional development is too important.”

He had said it once again. And he would stick to it. He had to.

“I see.” Her face suddenly became impossible to read. They had had this conversation so many times before — it was so well-rehearsed in his head by now. His heart still broke with guilt and grief remembering the looks she had given every time he told her this. But this time it was different.

Before he could even react, Jordynne had pushed her lips onto his. Ethan immediately tensed, his shoulders coming up to his ears. It took all of him to not give in. To not deepen it, to wrap his arms around her and pull her into him. Her lips were softer then he remembered.

He was cruel and didn’t pull away. His own selfishness winning out over logic. Just this one last time. To savor it. To remember what she tasted like.

When she pulled away, he watched as pain and wanting and confusion and hurt washed over her. Her green eyes staring deeply into his own blue ones, studying them.

“Dammit, Jordynne...”, Ethan finally breathed out, furrowing his eyebrows and scrunching up his forehead.

Her voice was barely a whisper. Her face still close enough to him that he could feel her breath, “If you don’t want to kiss me again, then just tell me...” He could smell the scotch on her breath, her perfume swirling around her.

But he interrupted her, “It has nothing to do with ‘want’. I can’t. And if I give a damn about you, I won’t.” He shook his head, biting down on the inside of his cheek hard for a moment. He took a hard swallow, “How am I supposed to push you to be everything you can be if I...”

He couldn’t finish that sentence.

“If you what?”

Ethan bit down on his lip this time, hard. Forcing himself to keep his emotions at bay. Forcing down that lump that was crawling up his throat. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Finally, he managed to — before downing his tumbler of scotch in one giant gulp.

“Okay.” Her voice was so quiet. He had never heard her so quiet, so defeated. “I get it.” She got up off of her seat, awkwardly wrapping her arms around her torso.

She stood in front of him, avoiding his stare again. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Dr. Ramsey.” She barely got the words out before marching back towards the bar.

He tightened his jaw as he watched her go. Pushing down every thought and wish and hope. That he should go after her. He could drive her home. That maybe she’d come back.

But that couldn’t be.

Fantasy is what people want. But reality is what they need.

This was Ethan Ramsey’s new reality.

“Good night, Dr. Holland.” He croaked out as she slipped inside and away from him.

______________________________________________________________________

Jordynne’s feet were killing her. She had marched out of that bar so fast, her feet slapping the ground as she raced away — hiding her red face from people passing by.

She took the steps down to the subway two at a time — so desperate to just be home under her covers already. She would have started running if she hadn’t have dressed up for the evening.

Finding a quiet corner of the subway, she slumped down into a seat and buried her face into her hands.

She had thought...

Well — she wasn’t sure what she thought would happen. Was she really surprised Ethan rejected her? How many times had they had that conversation before?

She guessed she thought that if she gave it one last chance she would finally have her answer.

And now she did.

She felt tears well up in her eyes — threatening to rush over onto her cheeks. But she squeezed her eyes shut so hard it hurt.

Jordynne was not going to let herself cry over this. Over him.

She wanted an answer and she got it.

She was better than crying on the subway. Better than pining over someone she would clearly never have. She was an intelligent woman. She was the junior fellow of the Diagnostics team. Of his diagnostics team.

So she would ignore it. They both will. They’ll pretend whatever it is between them doesn’t exist. That will just be her new reality.

Jordynne’s thoughts were interrupted as a shadow passed over her — a figure grabbing onto the railing above her and looking down. She craned her neck to catch a glimpse at the person.

Lahela.

He always had a way of showing up at just the right time. His long hair was hanging over his face as he looked down at her.

“Bryce, what are you doing? I thought you went out to explore.” She asked, confusion sweeping across her face.

“Ah,” He shrugged a little with a half-smile, “I walked along the river for a bit but figured I should be at least a little well-rested before becoming an all-mighty resident.”

She let out a soft chuckle, “Who knew this could make you have an even bigger ego?”

He joined her laughing — the sound melting the icy cold that had started to creep up in her moments before. She moved to the side as he sat down next to her in the red plastic seats of the subway.

He leaned back into the chair, looking as casual as one could on public transportation, “How was Ramsey? Everything all set for tomorrow?”

“Yup,” Her mouth got dry at his mention, “Fellowship officially starts tomorrow.” 

“Did he...?” But his voice trailed off — he sounded uncertain.

She raised an eyebrow at him, prompting him to continue— unable to guess what it was he was wondering.

“Did he — did you talk about you two?” His brown puppy dog eyes were crinkled with worry.  

Jordynne let out a heavy sigh, shaking her head, “There is no us two.”

“I’m not — I’m not asking this because of you and me. About our deal.” He met her eyes, looking at her intently, “I’m asking — because you’re my friend. And I care about you.”

“I know.” She nodded, believing him. “He is the head of the diagnostics team. And I am the junior fellow.” Another heavy breath escaped her, “And that’s where it will end.”

“Jordy...” His voice was soft and sad as he watched her, but she didn’t give him anything more to go on. He chewed his lip for a moment before speaking again, “So what happens now?”

“I think...,” Her eyebrows furrowed as she thought of what she wanted. Of what to do next. “I think I just want to be a doctor. Just put my head down and do what I came here to do.”

Bryce gave her a smile, nodding in agreement. “Just change one thing about that plan.”

She raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

“You’re not just a doctor. You’re a damn good doctor. And no history with your boss, or devilishly distracting surgeon,” He flashed her a wink, “Will get in the way of that, ok?”

“Thanks, Bryce.” The vote of confidence boosted her mood a bit.

“You just do you, Jordy. Everything else will fall into place,” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his warm side. She stiffened for a moment — worried about the gesture. But he didn’t move any closer, and his face didn’t move to meet hers closely. She settled into him a little bit, thankful to have a friend with her.

And the pair continued to sit like that as the subway brought them home.

#open heart #open heart fanficion #open heart fanfic #choices open heart #choices: oh #choices oh #choices fanfic #choices fanfiction #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #mc x ethan ramsey #mc x ethan #ethan x mc #bryce lahela #bryce lahela x mc #mc x bryce lahela #bryce x mc #mc x bryce #oh fanfiction #oh fanfic

[sweet-steddie]

Pick-me-up (e.d. & g.d.)

Summary: @shawnsababe requested that I write about the twins comforting the reader after a bad dream. I definitely, 100% got carried away and I hope you love it lol.

A/N: Here’s imagine #4! I’ve been getting more requests for this blog and that makes my heart happy so please don’t hesitate to send those in! Feedback is also highly encouraged and please reblog if you thought this wasn’t half bad. Happy reading!

2.2k+

My heartbeat is erratic; my breathing is worse. I clutch at my chest in hopes of calming myself down, but it doesn’t seem to be doing much to help. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. In through my nose, out through my mouth. I blindly reach over to the bedside table and fumble for my water bottle, clumsily grasping it and twisting off the top before bringing it up to my chapped lips.

As the water cascades icily down my dry throat, I try to bring myself down from what’s certainly shaping up to be a panic attack. The dream - or nightmare is a better word for it, really - had felt uncomfortably real. Enough so that when I finally peel my eyes open, I can see my hands shaking in the moonlit room. I force out a breath of air.

“It wasn’t real. You’re fine; you’re in your bed and you’re safe. It wasn’t real,” I mutter aloud to myself, hearing the tremor in my own voice. I continue to verbally soothe myself as I reach for my phone in the tangle of my comforter. I locate it and quickly attempt to immerse myself in scrolling through my social media feeds. I do this for all of two minutes before I realize that it isn’t working. I compose a text; ‘Hi’ it says and I send it off to Ethan without a second thought. I have no doubt that he’s awake at this hour. I don’t even attempt to go back to scrolling through my phone as I stare at my screen, anxiously awaiting Ethan’s response.

Sure enough, it’s only a matter of seconds before a text bubble pops up in our conversation and only a few seconds more before I read ‘Hi :) I’m surprised you’re awake’. I’m about to respond to that when another text pops up. ‘Is everything ok?’ I sigh out into the semi-darkness. I should’ve known that he would pick up on something, even over text. He and Grayson seem to have knack for that. I figure that there’s no point in beating around the bush, so I decide to just call Ethan. The phone only rings once before he answers.

“Are you ok, sugar?” Ethan’s voice is as clear as if it were the middle of the afternoon, just as I suspected it would be.

“I had a bad dream, E. A really bad dream,” I trail off, closing my eyes against the onslaught of vivid imagery left over from the nightmare. “Everyone has bad dreams, I know. But this one was just really, really bad. I’m shaking, Ethan,” I tell him, fighting back tears at this point. I hear commotion on the other end of the phone.

“I’m coming over. Just stay in bed. And drink some water,” he pauses and I can hear him shuffling about, “or get something to eat. Or not. Whatever you need to do before I get there,” he says. Normally, I would feel horrible for making him go through all of this trouble at such a late hour; truthfully, I do still feel pretty lousy about the whole thing. But in my current state, I know that his company would be best for me right now.

“Okay,” I mumble, barely audible. “Don’t rush, Ethan. Drive safe, you’ll get here when you get here,” I advise.

“Don’t worry about me, sweet girl. You make sure you’re alright and I’ll be there in about 10 minutes, ok? I’ll be there before you know it,” he responds and I let out a breath that I must’ve been holding, relief washing over me at his promise, alone. Just the idea that I’ll be in his arms in a matter of minutes is enough to significantly curb my anxiety. We bid each other our goodbyes and I’m back to facing myself and my thoughts soon enough.

Without Ethan’s voice in my ear, I find that my mind is running freely, no longer bogged down by a distraction, and taking me through the wretched experience of my nightmare over and over again. I take all measures possible to calm my racing thoughts, taking another hearty swig from my water bottle, per Ethan’s request. During one of my deep breaths, I’m able to smell my breath and it’s not the most pleasant, so I busy myself with finding a piece of gum before Ethan arrives.

I take minuscule relief in locating a stick of gum on my bedside table and popping it into my mouth, wiping the crust out of my eyes as I stare down at my lap, willing myself to stay calm. My efforts at peace take up the 10 or so minutes that Ethan needed to get here and I hear his voice, muffled by the barrier of my front door, followed by the jingling of keys as he uses one of my spares to let himself in. “I’m coming in,” he announces moments before I hear the unlatching of the lock and the subsequent twisting of the doorknob as the door creaks open. I hear two sets of feet approaching my bedroom and my shoulders literally sag in relief when I realize that he must’ve brought Grayson with him.

Moments later, the silhouettes of two boys appear in my doorway and I can just make out the features of my beautiful twins as they tentatively approach my bed.

“Hi baby,” Grayson all but whispers as he crawls onto the bed, sitting up against the headboard next to me and making quick work of clicking on my bedside lamp before pulling me into a crushing hug. The familiar smell of his cologne and the familiar weight of his body put me at ease instantly. I wrap my arms around his torso, smushing my cheek into his chest as I cuddle in close. I feel the mattress dip on my other side as Ethan takes a seat too. I feel his hand splay over my lower back and rub up and down comfortingly for several long moments as Grayson continues to squeeze me tight.

I tap gently on Grayson’s back and he loosens his grip as we slowly pull apart. I give him a sad little smile and for the first time since he’s arrived, I’m able to take in his features. His eyes are soft and sleepy looking, framed by ridiculously long lashes. He must have been asleep not long before this. His pink lips are twisted into the beginning traces of a pout while he assesses my face as well. His stubble is faintly visible in the light of my lamp. I use a finger to trace his sharp jaw adoringly before I turn to Ethan. I feel Grayson release his hold on me, still keeping a hand on my upper thigh, gripping it in a silent show of comfort.

Ethan’s eyes are like sweet vats of honey as he stares patiently into my face. He cups my cheek with a giant hand and rubs his thumb back and forth over my cheekbone, eyes darting all over my face, but always finding their home and often staring directly into mine. “Are you feeling better?” he prompts quietly, like we’re the only two people in the room. Like we’re the only two people in the world. I nod my head ‘yes’ and he arches one of those wild, pretty brows at me, waiting on verbal confirmation. I involuntarily lick my lips, breaking his penetrating gaze, but he only ducks his head to follow my line of vision, forcing me to keep looking at him.

“Yeah,” I answer, blinking once before allowing him to stare into my soul, it feels like. “I don’t think I’ll be able to go back to sleep anytime soon, but I’m definitely,” I pause as I think up the right term before settling on, “better.” Ethan nods, snaking the hand that’s cupping my cheek down my face and neck before he grips my shoulder and pulls me forward into his embrace. I use one hand to wrap myself up in him and the other to play with the paper clip on the end of his necklace. It’s something I do out of habit, twirl Ethan’s necklace gently between my fingers or swing the angel wing dangling from Grayson’s ear back and forth at my leisure. Neither of them seem to mind. 

Ethan grips onto me like I might slide through his fingers otherwise. “What can we do to make it better?” he mumbles, lips resting dangerously close to my ear. I feel Grayson’s fingers tighten momentarily on my thigh as both boys await my answer.

“This. You can keep holding onto me just like this and never let go,” I reply without giving it a second thought.

“That’s a given. We aren’t moving until you say so,” Grayson assures me and I faintly smile to myself as I think about all that these boys do for me. I couldn’t put my love for them into words if I tried. I reach blindly out beside me and am pleased when Grayson catches my hand in his his big paw and loops our fingers. He pulls my hand up to his plush lips and leaves a sweet kiss on the skin there. It sends a pleasant shiver up my spine, being loved on like this. My discomfort from the dream is slipping away to the far corners of my mind as I focus on the situation at hand. The sheer presence of Grayson and Ethan is soothing me to no end and bringing me back to my home base. They are my home base.

The three of us stay in this position for several minutes; Ethan, hugging me tightly and humming wordless melodies softly into my ear while Grayson plants intermittent kisses on my hand, rubbing his thumb over it when it’s not up to his mouth. At one point, Grayson uses his free hand to power on the speaker on my bedside table and connect the Bluetooth on his phone so that he can play music quietly throughout the room. We somehow end up in the position of me with my head resting on Ethan’s shoulder and his cheek resting atop my head, arm thrown around my shoulder. Grayson’s hand takes up camp on my thigh again and my hands are all over the place, running through Ethan’s hair, tracing the tattoos visible on Grayson’s thighs peeking from beneath his sleeping shorts, playing with Ethan’s and Grayson’s fingers simultaneously.

The conversation has long since begun to flow between us and it’s done wonders to put me at ease, to the point that the uneasiness I felt when I had shot up earlier in the night is a thing of the past. Grayson’s in the middle of reading us something from his phone when I raise my head from Ethan’s shoulder, causing him to raise his head as well. I look up at him to find him already staring down at me and Grayson’s voice becomes background noise for a moment as Ethan slowly leans in, giving me the chance to pull away. I stay put as the gap is closed between us and his pillowy lips are smushed up softly against mine. The kiss is sweet and gentle and perfect.

When we pull apart, it’s decidedly silent and I stare adoringly at Ethan for a moment before turning to Grayson with a dopey smile on my face. His lips upturn in a smirk that shows off a dimple that mirrors his brother’s. “It’s one of those nights, huh?” he asks and I nod, momentarily at a loss for words. I hear Ethan chuckle beside me as he runs his hand over my back gently. “Then what’re we waiting for?” Grayson asks, moving some of my hair out of my face before leaning in just like Ethan had minutes ago.

Grayson’s a great kisser, not unlike his brother. Ethan’s hand is still running over my back as Grayson deepens the kiss a bit, adding some tongue into the mix for some long, glorious moments. When we separate, I bite my lip to keep from whimpering or doing anything else equally embarrassing. Grayson’s smirking once again, aware of the effect he’s had on me.

“Oh, you can fuck right off,” I admonish, causing Grayson to throw his head back and let out a hearty laugh. I turn to face a smiling Ethan, raising my eyebrows before scolding him as well. “You can, too. You’re both way too smug,” I point out, causing him to show his teeth as he laughs in triumph, putting his hands up in mock-surrender.

“Hey, we were just helping you feel better. We were distracting you from,” he pauses, pretending to think before, “why were we here again?” he acts as if he’s too blissed out to remember and I shake my head at him, smiling against my better judgement as Grayson laughs thunderously on my other side. When the two oafs on either side of me finally calm down, the three of us are considerably more awake than we’ve been all night.

“Since we’re clearly not going to sleep anytime soon,” I begin, feeling around for my remote in the covers, “I’ll choose something to watch.” I find the remote and power on the flat screen facing my bed, queuing up Netflix right away.

“I’ll order food,” Ethan contributes and Grayson and I murmur our assent as I begin flicking through the generous selection on TV before me. It seems that Netflix and chill is scheduled to be in full effect tonight.

#dolan twins #ethan dolan #grayson dolan #dolan twins imagine #dolan twins one shot #dolan twins blurb #dolan twins smut #dolan twins fanfic #dolan twins fic #ethan dolan imagine #ethan dolan smut #grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan smut #blurb #one shot #imagine #fic #fanfic #my fic #enjoy! #dolan tuesday #dolan twins instagram #dolan twins snapchat #dolan twins twitter #dolan twins youtube

[little-wendigo-boy]

Twice as much love

I wrote this for @Penny-war for the @fmasecretsanta2018 i don’t know if they are still on tumblr (a blog wont show up) so if you know them please help me get it to them!!

Ship: Roy/Ed/Al 

Soulmate identifying marks, sfw, i kinda jumped from one perspective to another but i hope it’s coherent, 

Soulmates are something everyone is born with but not everyone get the chance to meet their soulmates. Roy thought he was destined for the latter, to never meet his soulmate or rather soulmates. In all his time and all of the people he has meet none of them have ever had more than one hand writing on their skin. He had two. One that was chicken scratch along the left side of his hip, it looked like a child's! However it said ‘So you must be the colonel.’ And one that was neat if not a bit shaky that simply said, ‘We did it though,’ on the inside of his right wrist.

Roy was baffled from a very young age who these people could be, was he going to fall for his subordinate? What did ‘we’ do? On nights like this, a bottle of the cheapest liquor he could find empty on the coffee table, all he could think of were the possible scenarios that would lead him to have two soulmates.

The Elrics’ mother had always told them, “You’ll just be loved twice as much.” But still the boys would question why they had two tattoos of soulmate words. They never did get the answer before they attempted the taboo.

Alphonse constantly wonder how his soulmark would work with his metal body. The lines were still printed along his metal back, ‘You’re a bastard, you know that?’ and right thigh, ‘Idiots, both of you.’ but neither him nor Ed could say if they were the words for when he got his body back or if it was in his current state.

Edward unlike his brother wouldn’t allow his mind to think of the small lettering dotting the back of his shoulders saying ‘It was the only way to win,’ or the loops of a practiced hand, ‘Glad you could make it,’ running up his right leg. He had to focus on getting his brother his body back. That's all he would allow himself to think.

Edward and Alphonse were sitting on the train on their way to East City, they were supposed to meet a colonel there named Roy Mustang. Alphonse had seen a flyer at the Resembool train station saying that state alchemists were needed. After great discussion both brothers decided it would be a good idea to try for it. The military should have a lot more information on the philosopher's stone than they could ever hope to find in their fathers library. So here they are waiting for the train to arrive at East City.

“Brother, do you think that this is a good idea. What if a war starts?” Al asks.

“I don’t know, this is the easiest way to find information on the stone though and if that means I become a military dog then so be it.” Ed says shifting in his seat to look out the window.

They continue to sit in silence, the only noise is the soft chatter of other passengers and the clacking of the wheels.

After an hour the train finally pulls up to the station. Ed and Al wait for the majority of passengers to get off before they make their way to the train exit.

“We have too meet up with that Mustang guy. He said he would be here to great us.” Ed says looking at a piece of paper in his hand that had the names of the people he and Al were supposed to meet.

“Be patient brother, he is a colonel after all, he probably has a lot of things to do. Let’s wait over there out of the way.” Al says pointing to a wall with a map of East City on it. Ed lets out a huff but follows.

“Glad you could make it.” A man in a blue military uniform says. Ed freezes and looks up from the ground. Don’t tell me he’s it, Ed thinks to himself.

Ed gathers himself and in his most I-might-be-small-but-I-can-kick-your-ass voice he says “So you must be the colonel.” Ed studies the man's face as he says this for any tells but he sees none.

“Colonel Roy Mustang, and this is my lieutenant Riza Hawkeye.” the blond woman next to him nods her head in greeting, “Let’s go to my office where it’s quieter.” Roy says and starts of to the military HQ. Ed reluctantly follows with Al trailing behind.

Once they had gotten to the colonel's office and Ed had time to think about their meeting, he was put off at the idea that his soulmate would be his superior even more so that they were 10 plus years his senior. As Ed looked around the office he saw a wall covered with books that the colonel probably collected throughout his years of working. Would any of those have the info he wanted?

“So boys, why choose to be dogs of the military? From what we have gathered you two are pretty talented having attempted human transmutation and lived.” Roy brakes the silence of the room, he’s behind his desk looking over some papers.

“How- how do you know that.” Ed stamers his body going rigged. Behind him Al whispers out a little “Oh no.”

“You’re the sons of Hohenheim, of course we’d keep tabs on you.” Roy sets the papers down and steeples his hands. “So, state alchemists?”

Ed and Al stand there, Ed tightens his fists before saying, “We want to fix what we’ve done.”

Roy’s eyes flick between the two brothers. “Alright, I’ll have a date set soon for your test. Dismissed.”

Ed and Al leave the colonel's office and start to the nearest hotel. “That went well!” Al says trying to keep up with his brothers fast pace.

“Yeah it went well, but he’s a Bastard! I can’t believe it’s him!” Ed grits out.

It could be worse, Al thinks but chooses not to say. This is something his brother needs to come to terms with on his own.

Years have past, the brothers have toppled religions, outwitted corruption, saved lives, and gotten beaten bloody along the way. The topic of soulmates rarely if ever came up, because Ed would go on a rant about how stupid and idiotic Roy is, and Al would sit quietly and listen. Since their meeting at the train station Al has noticed that Roy is a little more caring towards Ed than a commanding officer should be. Staying longer than necessary when Ed landed himself in the hospital, forcing the hotels that Ed frequents to renovate and carry the foods and books that Ed enjoys. Neither would ever admit it, but Al can see. Ed still calls Roy a bastard and gets in fight with him but there’s no malice behind what he says.

Al tries not to think of his soulmates, but with the long nights that he can’t just sleep through his mind wanders to the topic almost every night. His fingers idly tracing the writing on his thigh. Idiots. He thinks, brother and him are idiots. Al would give anything to know who said the words on him. Bastard. What had he done to be called that?

Al is torn to shreds. He looks to his right and sees Mei sitting beside him, crying. Ed is far from him with a rebar clean through his right arm. What a mess we’re in, Al dully thinks. Everything is moving in slow motion. He needs to save his brother.

He’s going to die.

Think.

Al can’t lose him.

Think.

Ed’s going to die.

Think.

Mei.

She can use alkahestry.

The world starts to catch up. Al starts to act before he can fully think through the plan.

“Keep moving brother.”

The last transmutation from the alchemist of the people. People are waiting with bated breath. There is an unasked question among the crowd of battered warriors, how will he bring his brother back?

All Roy see’s is black. Please don’t let Ed and Al disappear. He can’t handle that. Not after all they have been through. As a silent prayer Roy pleads that he hears Ed and Al safe. To hear their laugh. To hear him being taunted ‘you thought I would die after all this bastard? Brother don’t be mean.’ Roy doesn’t want either of the Elric boys disappear. He feels the air crackle and snap before he hears it. A gasp pulls itself from the crowd before it turns into a roaring cheer.

Roys body relaxes before it is confirmed that the two boys are there in the flesh by Riza. Another silent prayer escapes Roy. A thank you for their safe return.

Al is covered with a blanket as Ed helps him to stand up. “You’re a Bastard, you know that?” Ed says, his hold on Al tightens slightly.

“It was the only way to win.” Al smiles as his brother starts to laugh.

“Well that answers that.” He chuckles. A bright smile fills Ed’s face.

This, this is what I wanted most, this is why I wanted my body back, Al’s smile brightens as their friends, people who have loved and supported them throughout the years surround them.

A day passes and Al is in the hospital, Ed sitting beside him. Al’s hands are in Ed’s. Ed said he’d clip Al’s nails. “I’m glad it’s you.” Ed breaks the silence causing Al to look from the window to him. “I, it’s wrong, but since Roy I’ve been hoping that my other soulmate was you.” He sighs and sets Als hand back on the bed.

“Brother,” Al picks up Ed’s newly flesh hand, “so what? It’s wrong in the eyes of the public, but spiritually? Its not. We wouldn’t be each other's soulmates if it was.”

Ed squeezes his hand. “When did you become wiser than your older brother?” Ed sets his head on Al’s shoulder.

A knock on the door comes a few minutes later. “Come in!” Al says light and airy. In walks Riza Hawkeye with a blind Roy Mustang trailing behind.

“He wanted to come see you two.” Riza says leading the colonel to a vacant chair at the end of the hospital bed.

Roy sits and looks to where he thinks the boys are sitting, “Idiots, both of you.” There is no malice in his words, just a fond smile and a tired look in his eyes.

“We did it though.” Al replies. Roy laughs and puts his head in his hands.

“Of course it’s you two.” He says after a small pause picking up his head showing the biggest grin Al had ever seen on the man.

#royed #FMA #fma brotherhood #fmasecretsanta2018 #elricest #roy/ed/al #soulmate #soulmate identifying marks

[l0vegl0wsinthedark]

The Sexual Awakening of An Innocent Pureblood, Dating The Randy Prat Who Lived Ch.8

Aaaand thsi weekend’s final post, where I (attempt to) play Ron and Hermione and @bixgirl1​ continues to portray the randy prat with perfection; although in this chapter ‘randy’ seems like an understatement of epic proportions.because… well, you’ll see. xD For those of you who’ve only just stumbled upon this, welcome, we hope you’ll stay, and if you like, please go catch up with the previous few chapters, all of which you can find under the tag #virgin draco on @bixgirl1​‘s or my blog! ❤️

We’ll hopefully share another teaser for next weekend’s first post in a couple of days, and fuck but we cannot wait for you guys to read the next chapter omgggg!

Chapter 8: In Which Ron Questions His Friendship With the Randy Prat and Hermione Is Done With the Both of Them

Harry, fiddling with his fork over dinner: *talking a little fast, vaguely nervous*–So then Weatherby tried to say that the potion wasn’t illegal because he’d somehow obtained the mermaid scales legally– which, I mean you know mermaids, they’re never going to agree to that, not that it would matter with such a regulated substance–

Hermione, smoothly interrupting: And then he was let off with a fine, yes Ron told me. Now, tell us how things with Malfoy are? *sips wine while looking over the rim with bright eyes*

Harry, dropping his fork with a clatter and twitching: Fine. Things are good. Fine. You know. He’s having dinner with his mother tonight, so… They’re good. Yeah.

Ron, snorting: Yeah, I’ll bet they’re ‘good’. *leers* The ferret wearing you out, then?

Harry, flushing: Er, well… *shifts uncomfortably* Not– That is, Draco’s, uh… He’s… Sort of– uhm.

Ron, obnoxiously: Insatiable? Permanently randy? Can’t keep it in his pants ever?

Harry: *blurts it* A virgin. Like, a real virgin. An I-barely-know-what-sex-is-other-than-it’s-how-people-procreate virgin. *talking faster* A virgin who makes up his own weird names for things he doesn’t understand. A virgin who is– is shy and- and, innocent and blushes when he catches me looking at his arse! *miserably* It’s never been out of his pants, Ron.

Ron, mouth hanging wide open, bits of half-chewed roasted potatoes visible inside: *weird gurgling sound*

Hermione, lips pressed tightly together: …Well, I– that’s– not what one would imagine of Draco Malfoy…

Ron, wild screeching: Are you having us on?!

Harry, dejected: No! I never would have guessed either; I mean you know what he was like in school, so cocky, such an egotistical little shit, and Parkinson, I mean, she’s his best friend and you know how we’d see them out together at the Leaky after the war and she’d go home with a different bloke half the time? I just figured– I mean, even if he was just a– I figured he would know about stuff.

Ron: *stares suspiciously at Harry through narrowed eyes*

Hermione, taking a slow sip of wine: *licking her lips thoughtfully* Well, now that you mention it, Harry… It’s not that unusual, is it? *wilts back a little as they both turn to gape incredulously at her* I– I mean, he’s a Pureblood, isn’t he? *speaking as if that explains everything*

Harry, gazing dumbly at her: I think he’s mentioned the Pureblood thing once or twice, yeah. And?

Hermione, looking from one to the other as though bewildered by the need for further explanation: … Well, certain Purebloods are traditionally raised in incredibly conservative households; they often have a particularly archaic mindset when it comes to sex.

Harry: Archaic? Ron’s a pureblood, right? But he knew what kissing was called way before he’d ever done it!

Ron, cackling smugly: Yeah, I did. And when I finally did, it wasn’t so pure, was it? *nudges Hermione with his elbow, waggling eyebrows at her*

Hermione, dryly: I’m not sure. You had plenty of practice with Lavender first.

Harry, sputtering futilely: But–but Parkinson! Ron! They know what goes where, Hermione!

Ron, bursting out: And Malfoy doesn’t? *yelps when Hermione smacks him* No, I mean, he genuinely doesn’t know how things work? I mean– *ears turning pink* I mean, I know things are slightly different with two blokes, but…the same mechanics basically…

Harry, waving his hands in agitation: I know he knows the mechanics of– *quickly glancing at Hermione* of the male body, but….*helplessly* I really don’t think so, no. I mean… *softer* His first kiss was a couple of months ago, and– it was with me. *doesn’t seem aware of the smile that flickers around his mouth; looks up* And I’m not really sure what to do. Hes– he’s strange in a way I never would have guessed, you know? But I– I like him, like I said. And things are good, except for him not knowing– for me not knowing… *trails off, staring at the table*

Hermione, softly: It’s actually rather sweet that his first kiss was with–

Ron, exploding: Sweet? The bloke’s nearly twenty-six, Hermione, and he’s only just had his first kiss! *turning to Harry* So how far have you gone…you know, beyond the snogging?

Hermione, scandalised: Ron!

Ron: *waves an impatient hand in her direction*

Harry, swallowing hard, glancing at Hermione again: Just the snogging. A bit of– a bit of groping, he lets me– *clears his throat, blushing* Which is all fine, really. *looking at Hermione’s thoughtful expression and squaring his shoulders* I mean know how big a step just that is for him, and it’s bloody fantastic, if you care to hear the truth. Picked up kissing like a niffler finding gold. So, yeah. We do that a lot, and it’s great. Everything is great. Thanks. Think I just needed to get that off my chest, about him not knowing a lot. I feel better now. *smiles; takes sip of wine with a slightly shaky hand*

Hermione, smiling warmly at him: It’s really heartwarming to see you being so gentle and patient with him, Harry. I mean, despite your shared past with him… I’m really happy for you. *pats his hand clumsily* Right… Trifle, you two? *carefully Levitates their plates into the kitchen before following*

Ron, watching Harry impassively except for the smile looming threateningly at the corners of his lips: *glances around to check Hermione’s safely inside the kitchen* So… *casually swirls wine around in his glass* How’s it really going, mate?

Harry, leaning forward: *speaking in sharp, fast whispers* *eyes slightly wild* I need a charm.

Ron, on the verge of a laugh: Er… *leans forward too* What kind of charm?

Harry, whispering faster: A charm. A spell. A-a bloody potion! Anything. You’ve got to know of something, something wizarding that doesn’t get talked about. For sexual frustration. *breathing fast, staring intensely into Ron’s eyes* *seriously*I think I might die.

Ron, shoulders shaking with mirth: Sexual frustration, eh? *suddenly heaves loudly, quickly buries his face in his napkin to muffle his helpless laughter*

Harry: *low growl* Do not laugh at me, Ron. My balls are so blue I think they’re going to fall off. You don’t know. You don’t know what it’s like. *staring at Ron, pained arousal etched across his face* He comes over, every Friday and Saturday he comes over, and he sits in my bloody lap. For hours. For hours he sits in my lap and rubs against me and we snog the hell out of each other and I grope his perfect arse and I’m dying, mate, I’m really dying. It’s so perfect, he looks skinny but he’s really not, he’s just–his arse is round and he wiggles on top of me and I almost come in my pants, I’m wanking four times a day–

Ron, now looking slightly nauseated: Look, mate, I commiserate and everything but, Merlin… Feel free to leave out the details, I mean I genuinely don’t want to kn–

Harry, waving a sharp hand at him: *shakily* No, no, no, no you don’t get it, I really need something, I need something now. He lets me squeeze his arse, Ron, he lets me fill my hands with it, and massage it, and I can feel his cock against me, he–did you not hear how he wiggles? He does, he ruts into me like he knows what he’s doing only he doesn’t and I need something before I die. I might die. His cock–he’s so responsive to everything–to everything, Ron, I kiss him on the neck and he’s hard before my mouth has opened, sometimes he just climbs into my lap that way, and then I touch his arse, he lets me run my hands over the crevice, Ron, I need to have sex with him or get a potion or I’m going to die. You need to get me something, don’t you get it? *vibrating with tension* He–that’s not even the worst– you don’t even know the worst–

Ron, wildly uncomfortable: Harry, fucking hell– *shifts in his seat, looking around as if waiting for someone to rescue him* I– I get it, man, just– just stop, I don’t really want to know the wor-

Harry, quiet and murderous: *grinds his teeth* I listened to you through all of eighth year as you ranted about Hermione– about what it was like to touch her tits when she finally let you, you called them fucking pillowy marshmallows, Ron–

Ron, glaring as he looks around wildly to check if Hermione’s back: Would you shut up about that?! What the fuck is wro–?!

Harry, talking over him and narrowing his eyes: And you said her nipples looked like Muggle bubble-gum, and you used to rant about how she wouldn’t let you taste them to see if they tasted like Muggle bubblegum– they don’t feel like marshmallows, though, Harry, you said, not when she lets me fiddle when them a bit; I remember that part distinctly because that’s the exact moment I admitted to myself that I was gay, I really had no choice–and don’t even get me started on the things you described when she let you slide a hand into her knickers–

Ron, purple in the face: *angry hissing* Shutup, shutup, shutUP! *breathes heavily while tilting back dangerously in his chair to peer into the kitchen* What do you want?

Harry, jaw tight: *gives clipped nod* So we understand each other. *takes deep breath and continues rant* And the worst of it–the worst, Ron, it’s horrible, it’s fantastic and it’s the worst fucking thing I’ve ever lived through and I survived Voldemort, seriously– I would kill that noseless bastard a dozen more times to not have to keep enduring this–

Ron, weakly: What, what’s the worst part? I already regret asking but what the fuck is it that you won’t just shut–

Harry, with another grim nod at Ron’s defeat: I told him it’s okay, it’s all okay–to be honest with each other, we shouldn’t hide stuff, you know? Pull him out of his shell a bit, so he’s not so fucking embarrassed, because I know he wants me–I mentioned his cock, yeah? It’s so hard all the time, and I haven’t seen it, but it rubs against me every bloody weekend, I think it’s probably spectacular and I need to see it, Ron, I need to, feels nice and thick– *shakes head frantically* So I told him we should be honest about a month ago, we were snogging, and he got–he got excited, he wants me, do you get it– do you get it, Ron? But he doesn’t know how to want me, or what to do about it, rushed off to the loo and wanked and was so embarrassed and really I was turned on, so I did too, to show him it was okay, and now– and now–

Ron, on the verge of passing out from the surge of too much information: *croaks* And now what?

Harry, whispering so fast he’s tripping over his words: *shoulders high and tight; whole body shaking subtly* He wanks, Ron. At my house. Because I said it was okay. When he gets too excited, when he gets too close from the snogging, he goes into my loo and he wanks and sometimes–sometimes I hear him groan my name - you know my house and its walls - and then– *starts rocking back and forth slightly* Then– then– then because I told him to be honest, to not be ashamed of wanting me, he comes out and he’s started to–to tell me what he’s thinking about, what he thinks about me, my hair or my hands touching him, or my hands groping his perfect, round little bottom while he’s on my lap, he blushes–Draco Malfoy blushes–and bites his lip that’s all swollen from kissing me and then waits for me to go do it too so we can snog for another two hours before he leaves and I need a fucking potion. If you’re any kind of friend, you’ll find me a potion, your dad knows stuff, George maybe– George would know or Bill, somebody in your family; fuck, ask your mum, I don’t care at this point–I need something, please help me. *breaks off, gasping*

Ron, staring horrified into his wine, most likely wishing he’d chosen to sit with someone else when he was eleven: I– yeah, that sounds– Mate, I don’t even know what to say, I love you and everything but fuck, you can’t seriously expect me to–.

Hermione, suddenly appearing at the table, speaking tightly: So he’s finally comfortable with you and all you can think of doing is pushing him for something he’s probably not ready for? *glares at both of them in turn*

Harry, jaw dropping open: *shocked* No, Hermione, fuck!  I need the potion to help settle down, I’m–I’m dying because I’m not pressuring him, I need something so I don’t do something stupid and scare him away, Jesus! *mortified* How long have you been listening?! How could you think I’d–

Hermione, crossing her arms with a frown: Oh, long enough. *glares at Ron* We’re going to have words later, husband of mine. *turns to Harry* Now, I didn’t catch most of your furiously whispered rant, so tell me - what is it that you need a charm or a potion for?

Harry, cringing: *bursts out* My bloody cock is on fire, Hermione! I’ve wanked myself raw in the last few months,and in the last month it’s gotten worse, my balls hurt all the time, is that what you need to know?! I need the bloody potion to stop me from yanking down Malfoy’s trousers and just putting it to him before he’s ready so he doesn’t get scared and break up with me because all I want to do, when I’m on a case, or at the cinema, or fucking hell, eating dinner with you two, is touch him, his body is so perfect–did you eavesdrop on that part, Hermione?  On how his cock is driving me so crazy I think I’m losing my mind?  It’s thick, I can tell that much, and I don’t know how he’s so bloody hard all the time and it doesn’t seem to bother him, and he wanks and Jesus, I need the potion so I don’t die or do something I fucking regret! *breathing fast, glaring at her in embarrassed fury*

Ron, groaning into his hands: If it wasn’t already horrifying the first time, I had to listen to all that for a secon–

Hermione, slightly flustered and impatiently shushing Ron: I’d have thought the solution to this is rather obvious, Harry. *waits for him to miraculously come up with the answer* Well…? *sighs impatiently*

Harry: *sullen* I’m not going to live a life of celibacy– nor castrate myself.

Hermione, deadpan: Yes, because those are the only options. For heaven’s sake, Harry, I was referring to a standard Numbing Potion.

Harry, glare faltering: *mumbling* Why the fuck didn’t I come to Hermione first about this?  

Ron, vehemently: Yes, why didn’t you?! Merlin, Harry, I’m scarred for life!

Harry, sighing: *rubs his face* Standard Numbing Potion?

Hermione, matter-of-factly: They’re available over the counter and take about three minutes to take effect. All you have to do is– *turns pink but continues* –apply a few minutes before you start…being amorous and you’re good for the next three to four hours. *rubs forehead wearily*

Harry: *grimacing and flushing* *mutters* I haven’t had any problem keeping it up for three to four hours, ‘Mione. If anything, it never goes down.  I don’t need longevity, here.

Hermione, shutting her eyes for a second: Nobody is questioning your– stamina, Harry. *shakes her head*

Harry, uncertainly: Can you please explain it like you would to someone who hasn’t had full blood flow to their brain for two months?

Hermione, with a tiny, reluctant grin: It’ll just tamp down most of the discomfort for the duration of your activities, until you can– bring yourself some relief.

Harry, biting lip and studiously not looking at her: So then, uh, some of the–activities we engage in wouldn’t be so–so difficult to, er, uhm.  I’d be able to kiss him without wanting to– or uh, getting overwhelmed?  …And there are no harmful side effects? *grumbles* If that’s true, I’ll order a vat of the stuff; I’ll be using it every day for the rest of my life…

Ron, through grit teeth: Whatever it takes to make sure I never have to listen to you whinge about Malfoy’s perfectly round little bott– *slaps a hand over his mouth, looking mortified with himself*

Harry, scowling, swings his eyes up to Hermione: *casually* Hey, did I ever tell you about how Ron used to talk about you after you started dating?  I gather you might’ve heard a bit from the kitchen, but there was this really interesting time after he’d had dinner at your parents house when–

Ron, eyes popping: *shrill wheezing* What are you doing?!

Hermione, curiously looking between them: Wh–?

Harry, snapping: I was a bloody good friend to you that year, Ron.  I’ll tell you about the way Malfoy’s arse tastes if I’m ever allowed to find out, and you’ll listen with a smile on your face!

Ron, shaking his head wildly: N-no. NO! *beseechingly* ‘Mione? Say something!

Hermione, eyes dangerously narrowed: …You told Harry about the time at my parents’?

Harry, grinning widely, flashing all of his teeth: *slow nod, eyes locked with Ron’s*  He did, indeed.  I wonder how many details I could remember, if I let myself think about it… Ron?  How much do I remember?

Ron, face redder than his hair: Nothing, you remember nothing! *wilts a little under Hermione’s glare* …I’m always here when you want to talk, mate, you know that. *lame laughter*

Harry, with a sniff: Hermione?  No side effects, that stuff?  I really am probably going to be using it every day or something; Malfoy seems–he doesn’t seem to understand the effect he’s having, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to freak him out by pushing him on something.  He wants to– *shoulders tensing again* He wants to ride my lap for three hours with a wank in between? He can, until he’s comfortable enough to let me know he wants more.

Hermione, thoughtfully chewing on the corner of her lip: You know, Harry… Maybe - and I have absolutely no way of being sure about this - maybe, Malfoy is ready for more… you know?

Harry, huffing out a shaky laugh: He never tries to touch me other than gripping handfuls of my hair, really, or rocking on top of me.  He–sort of– lets me touch him, but that’s only because I asked and at first he said it was only okay for me to go at his arse with one finger. *shoots an I-told-you-so expression at their faces*

Hermione, ignoring Ron’s squeak: The hair grabbing - I don’t know, it sounds like he has a thing for your hair. The rocking– *slightly pink* –is instinctive. He lets you touch his– him, because you probably asked if you could. Perhaps he’s waiting for you to ask…about doing some other stuff? Maybe he’s ready for more and doesn’t know how to ask for it, and maybe he doesn’t touch you because, from the sound of things, he genuinely doesn’t know to to.

Harry, plaintive: But he comes out of the loo and–and tells me what he was thinking about in there.  If he didn’t know how, then he wouldn’t be able to–

Hermione, one eyebrow sliding up her brow: Have you told him it’s alright to voice out the things he finds arousing? Tell you about them in detail? Because he may just be following instructions like any novice would.

Harry, struck: *slowly* He– he sometimes reaches for my hands and– *cheeks darkening* –and puts them on him before I can. And he’s the one who starts snogging me rather than vice versa,more often than not.

Ron, mumbling miserably with his cheek pressed to the table: Because all you’ve done so far is snog the bloke and grope his bum and he’s already familiar with both activities and that’s probably his way of demonstrating consent. *lifts face and stares blearily, as if questioning his own sanity* The virgin sounds eager as fuck, Harry, so just fucking grope something else of his already. *thumps forehead onto the table* Merlin.

Harry, looking at him thoughtfully: But he’ll run for the hills if I ask him straight out. He thinks it’s inappropriate to talk about stuff like that–I keep having to tell him it’s not.

Hermione, Summoning the trifle, rolling her eyes: You need to start being more observant, Harry. *starts serving out three helpings* Watch out for signs– body language, what he’s hinting at without being aware of himself. He’s– *cusses under her breath* –he’s not bound to know what he wants himself– *suddenly looks up* I’ve got to say, Harry, part of me still can’t believe he’s as clueless as you’re describing him to be.

Ron, snidely: Yeah, you, me, and probably anyone else who finds out about this.

Harry, glancing at him sharply: No one is going to find out though, Ron, right?  Because you wouldn’t talk about my boyfriend in any manner other than complimentary to someone else, despite our history with him. Right?

Ron, hastily: Mate, of course. Merlin, that goes without saying. You seem bonkers about him and I definitely don’t want to be on the receiving end of one of your mental outbursts.

Harry, sheepish: *relaxes* Sorry. I mean, I don’t appreciate the term ‘mental outbursts’ but… Yeah. I’m sort of bonkers about him.

Ron, flatly: They’re mental. You’re mental when you lose your temper. It’s fascinating to watch when it’s directed at someone else.

Hermione, sighing: Ron.

Harry, flapping a hand and tucking into dessert: Whatever, just– I don’t want make things weird– weirder– for him than I already am. *sighs* Where can I find that Numbing Potion?

Hermione, shrugging: The apothecary at Diagon stocks them for sure. You could owl them an order during business hours and they’ll deliver it for free within the hour.

Harry, relieved: I’ll– I’ll do that, then. Thanks. *eats in silence for a few minutes* And I’ll pay more attention. It’s hard, when everything is… *lamely* well, hard. *mumbles around a mouthful of dessert* His body though–

Ron, slams fist on the table: Not while we’re eating, mate!

Harry: *sheepishly falls quiet*

~20 minutes later~

Harry, awkwardly lingering by the floo: Hey, er, I wanted to say– thanks, you know? For listening? *casts Ron’s tense face a doubtful look* And, I guess maybe sorry for getting–well. Detailed about Draco’s– uhm. *eyes go glazed* It’s just that he– *shakes head with a rueful smile*

Hermione, elbowing Ron pointedly: You know we’re always here if you need to talk. Harry. No matter the topic of conversation. *stares expectantly at Ron* Ron, gruffly: *clears his throat* Yeah, man, just– just come on over whenever you fancy a chat or whatever…

Harry, smirking:*dryly* I’ll take you up on that. *grabs a pinch of Floo powder and steps in* *absently* Give Rosie a mouth press for me. *disappears in a green flare*

Ron and Hermione: *exchanging a slightly bewildered glance* *burst out laughing at the same moment* Ron: Shit, the poor guy’s got it bad. Hermione, shaking her head as she sinks into the sofa: It’s oddly sweet, this whole thing. *mischievously* For Harry’s sake, though, I hope he finds some relief soon. *grins at Ron* Don’t look at me like that! Put yourself in his place for a moment. *wryly* You wouldn’t have lasted half as long as he has.

Ron, sitting facing her and dragging her into a kiss: Mmmm, probably a good thing that I don’t have to worry about anything like that, then… *gently pushes a few strays curls off her face*

Hermione, leaning in for some more: *airily* Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure. We still have to talk about all those things you told Harry after all. *grins when Ron blanches* I guess you’d better take me inside and do things to make me forget about that conversation altogether.

Ron, not questioning his luck: *plucks Hermione up and tosses her over his shoulder, smacking her bum* *heads to their room while she laughs*

#virgin draco #where there's advice there are ron and hermione #poor harry though hahahahaa #the amount bix and i laughed while we wrote this jfc #there there randy prat #it's all going to be okay soon #really soon #innocent pureblood #randy prat with the bluest balls in history #drarry

[nightingveilxo]

TRF Rooftop, MHR, S3, TAB, S4, and Underworld: Rise of the Lycans

(Death of Sonja-start at 1:30 tw//blood and violence)

Victor is the villain, a vampire whose daughter has been in a secret relationship with the slave lycan, Lucian. For their crime, and the fact Sonja is pregnant, Victor has Lucian chained and beaten, and Sonja burned “alive”.

Lucian: No, Sonja. Just look at me. Sonja, keep your eyes on me. Sonja! Look at me! ... I love you.

Sonja: And I love you...your face will not be here when this is over will it?... goodbye my love.

Lucian begins screaming out Sonja’s name, and No!

TRF

SHERLOCK (urgently): No, stay exactly where you are. Don’t move. (John stops and backs up, holding up his hand towards Sherlock in capitulation.) JOHN: All right. (Breathing rapidly, Sherlock has his own hand stretched out towards his friend.) SHERLOCK: Keep your eyes fixed on me. (His voice becomes frantic.) Please, will you do this for me? JOHN: Do what? SHERLOCK: This phone call – it’s, er ... it’s my note. It’s what people do, don’t they – leave a note? (John shakes his head, momentarily taking his phone from his ear as the stress of what he’s beginning to understand hits him, then he raises it again, his voice shaky.) JOHN: Leave a note when? SHERLOCK: Goodbye, John. JOHN (shaking his head): No. Don’t. (Sherlock gazes down at his friend for several seconds, then he lowers his arm and drops the phone onto the roof, gazing ahead of himself. John lowers his own phone and screams upwards.) JOHN: No. SHERLOCK! ... (The impact of the shock and the bang on his head begin to take effect and his knees give out.) ( x )

MHR

TEH

(From TRF) As John Watson’s anguished cry of “Sherlock!” rings in the air, John himself approaches Sherlock Holmes’ headstone.   We see brief flashback clips of Sherlock and Jim Moriarty on the rooftop of Bart’s Hospital, then of John arriving by taxi at the hospital and Sherlock standing on the roof’s edge talking to him by phone. SHERLOCK: It’s a trick.  Just a magic trick. JOHN: No.  All right, stop it now. (He starts to walk towards the hospital.) SHERLOCK: No, stay exactly where you are. (John backs up.) SHERLOCK: Don’t move. JOHN: All right. (They seem to hold out their hands towards each other.) SHERLOCK: Keep your eyes fixed on me.  Please, will you do this for me? JOHN: Do what? SHERLOCK: This phone call – it’s ... it’s my note. (But now we’re seeing new footage.  Behind Sherlock, two men are dragging the body of Jim Moriarty across the roof towards the door.  Sherlock doesn’t react to them and continues to concentrate on John.) SHERLOCK: It’s what people do, don’t they?  Leave a note? JOHN: Leave a note when? SHERLOCK: Goodbye, John. JOHN: No.  Don’t.

TEH Club (Where Laura’s version is somehow exactly like what was said in TRF, even though she wasn’t there.)

221A BAKER STREET.  Mrs Hudson is in the kitchen washing up a pan.  The radio is on. RADIO: ... with an anti-terrorism bill this important, the government feels duty-bound to push through the legislation with all due expe... (Hearing the main front door being opened, she turns down the volume and goes to her front door and opens it, brandishing the pan in front of her.  The front door closes, and a familiar silhouette appears behind the frosted window of the internal door.  Mrs Hudson stares at it in disbelief – and then Sherlock pushes open the door and looks at her.  She screams hysterically.) FLASHBACK to the end of “The Reichenbach Fall.”  John gets out of the taxi and heads towards the hospital.  Cut to partway through his phone conversation with Sherlock when John tries again to go towards the hospital. SHERLOCK (over phone): No, stay exactly where you are. JOHN (into phone): Where are you? SHERLOCK: Don’t move.  Keep your eyes fixed on me. (On the rooftop’s edge, a dummy has been dressed in replicas of Sherlock’s coat and scarf.  It’s wearing a curly dark wig, and a life-sized photo of Sherlock’s face has been stuck on the front of its head.  One hand is raised to hold a phone.) JOHN’s VOICE (over phone): What-what’s happening?  What’s going on? (A few feet behind the dummy, Sherlock is sitting on the roof with his back against a low chimney.  Jim Moriarty is sitting beside him.   Sherlock is holding a rope to keep the dummy upright.  He speaks tearfully into another phone.) SHERLOCK: Please, will you do this for me?  Please. JOHN: Do what? SHERLOCK: This phone call – it’s my note.  That’s what people do, don’t they?  Leave a note. (Beside him, Jim lowers his head and giggles quietly.  Sherlock takes the phone away from his mouth and angrily but silently shushes him.) JOHN’s VOICE (over phone): Leave a note when? SHERLOCK (raising the phone to his mouth again): Goodbye, John. JOHN’s VOICE (over phone): No ... (Switching off the phone, Sherlock flicks the rope and releases it and the dummy topples over the edge of the roof.  Jim chuckles, and John’s horrified voice can be heard screaming from ground level.) JOHN: Sherlock! JIM: Oh-ho! (He and Sherlock both laugh as if delighted that their plan has worked.   They turn and look at each other, still giggling, but when their eyes meet their smiles slowly begin to fade as if they are starting to realise something or to feel something new.  Sherlock frowns a little, looking puzzled, but Jim waits patiently for him to catch up.  After a few moments Sherlock works it out and begins to lean towards him, and Jim moves to meet him. Their lips are just about to touch when ... ANDERSON (horrified): What?!  Are you out of your mind?! (He is standing and staring down at a dark-haired young woman sitting in his living room.  She shrugs.) LAURA: I don’t see why not.  It’s just as plausible as some of your theories. (Behind her, the walls of the room are absolutely covered with notes, photographs and Post It notes.  Pieces of red string link some of the paperwork together, some of the strings even crossing the room.  Laura is not the only person in the room with Anderson – six or seven others are squeezed onto the furniture.  At least three of them are wearing deerstalker hats, and one is wearing a Sherlock-like coat and scarf.) ANDERSON: Look, if you’re not going to take it seriously, Laura, you can ... (He makes a ‘get out’ gesture.) LAURA (angrily): I do take it seriously.  (She looks disapprovingly around at the others.)  I don’t think we should wear hats. ANDERSON: I founded ‘The Empty Hearse’ so like-minded people could meet, discuss theories ... (He chokes on his words and steps closer to Laura, looking down at her angrily.) ANDERSON: Sherlock’s still out there. (She rolls her eyes.) ANDERSON: I’m convinced of it. (Laura’s eyes have drifted to the TV behind him and her eyes widen.  Anderson turns to look.  The sound is muted but a reporter talking live from somewhere in London is bringing some breaking news.  The rolling headline at the bottom of the screen announces, “HAT DETECTIVE ALIVE”. Underneath, a separate headline states, “Magnussen summoned before parliamentary ...” and presumably the next word is “commission” but nobody is paying attention to that news.) LAURA: Oh my God. (Instantly everyone’s phones begin to signal text alerts.  Everybody scrabbles in their pockets.  Laura holds up her own phone to show the screen to Anderson, her face alight with excitement.) LAURA: Oh.  My.  God! (On the phones, Twitter is full of hashtags like #SherlockHolmesAlive! and #SherlockIsNotDead, and #SherlockLives, and more messages stream in by the second.)

TSoT (Callback to the ash study on Sherlock’s blog, and the stag night has Sherlock getting into a fight, yelling, ‘I know ash!’ Surrounded by the vampire council. All those people that supposedly didn’t like Mary, but came to the wedding anyway.)

TAB Mouth like a crimson wound.

(Sherlock talking about the bride rising, which isn’t just about ghosts, since in gothic literature and everyday life, the risen was a term used for people believed to be vampires.)

T6T Seriously, after TAB, is it all gothic enough for you?

TLD (At one point, there is a camera angle where only ASH is visible past Sherlock and John).

TFP

In a strange twist, Lara Pulver (Irene Adler) was cast as Semira (not Samarra or Samara or Sumatra) in Underworld: Blood Wars (2017). Yes, puzzle.

Once again, she’s playing the intelligent woman, and even uses lines that sound like something Sherlock would say. Her companion is Varga, devoted blonde that only has to prove it.

She even refers to him using words Sherlock used for John in TAB, and the words come into the frame like Sherlock’s thoughts since S1, but especially once Mary entered the picture in S3.

Just thought I would add it in, because there have been another round of discussions recently about Captain Watson and his vampire boyfriend. ( x ) Also related, Dr. Strange Sherlock ( x ). And then of course, the whole John Watson or Phil Rask situation...( x )

[andrewdburton]

My Financial Philosophy: The Core Tenets of Get Rich Slowly

As I resume writing at Get Rich Slowly, one of my goals is to share a unified theory of money. This is a big change from when I started the site in April 2006.

You see, 11-1/2 years ago, I didn’t have a coherent financial philosophy. Not even close. Because of this, I was deep in debt and struggling to make ends meet on an average American income. I was lost in the woods. The only thing I knew was that all of the books I read seemed to say the same thing: “There’s no reliable way to get rich quickly; however, there’s a time-tested path to get rich slowly.” That’s why I started this website.

Back then, I was fishing around for anything that would work. I’d try any tip or technique that sounded plausible — and even some that didn’t. Here are a few examples:

If I saw something free, I took it home. Free is a very good price, right? Well, not always. As Get Rich Slowly readers helped me to see, a free thing isn’t really free if you don’t need it. It takes up space, which costs money. It also occupies some of your brainwidth. Eventually I realized that free doesn’t always mean free.

My early forays into the stock market were less investing than they were speculation. Twice I lost my annual Roth IRA contribution because I pumped it all into a stock that was down. I just thought I was unlucky until I learned (and truly understood) the virtues of investing in index funds. (Note that although I practice indexing myself, I’m not dogmatic about it.)

I heeded the common advice to buy in bulk. When Kris and I were married — we’re still friends, by the way — we had a cellar and pantry filled with Stuff that we’d purchased. We had so much Stuff that I couldn’t even keep track of it all! Naturally, some of that Stuff went to waste. Other things never got used because we never really needed them in the first place. Buying in bulk to save money doesn’t actually save you money unless you use the things you buy. This is obvious, I know, but I’m not the only one who has struggled with buying too much in order to “save”.

Over the years, as I read and wrote more about money, I began to see other patterns similar to “get rich slowly”. Gradually, I adopted a series of rules (or “tenets”) that I believed could help me — and others — live a more prosperous life. I developed a rough financial philosophy, one that became more streamlined as the years went by.

The Fundamental Tenets of Get Rich Slowly

Although my tenets have shifted slightly over the past decade, they’re still remarkably close to what they were when I first published them on this blog back in 2008 and 2009.

Here are the current core tenets of my financial philosophy (with links to my Money Boss website):

You are the boss of you. Your circumstances might not be your fault, but they’re your responsibility. Sure, you’re a part of the overall economy, subject to both lucky and unlucky breaks, but ultimately you are in charge. Your motto must be, “The buck stops here!” Don’t blame anyone or anything else for your financial situation, and don’t expect somebody else to rescue you. Your financial fate rests in your hands.

Nobody cares more about your money than you do. The advice that others give you is almost always in their best interest, which may or may not be the same as your best interest. Don’t do what others tell you just because they hold a position of authority or seem to have a persuasive argument. Do your own research, get advice from a variety of sources, and in the end, make your own decisions based on your own goals and values.

It’s always best to be proactive. In life, there are often default options. If you don’t consciously and deliberately choose something different, you get the default. When this happens, your life shapes you instead of you shaping your life. Most people go through their entire lives in default mode. They accept what life hands them without question. They’re reactive. A money boss questions the default choices. Sometimes she accepts them; other times, she proactively seeks better alternatives. (As a bonus, being proactive helps you prepare better for both emergencies and opportunities.)

The road to wealth is paved with goals. Without financial goals, you have no direction. If you have no direction, it’s easy to spend money on things you’ll regret later. But if you’re saving for a house, your daughter’s college education, or a trip to Europe, your goal will keep you focused, making it easier to spend on what’s important and ignore the things that aren’t. This is why I constantly preach the power of purpose.

Profit is power. To build wealth, you must spend less than you earn. This is the basic law of money. Basic but important. Successful personal finance is all about building positive cash flow. By decreasing your spending while increasing your income, you can get out of debt and build wealth.

Saving must be a priority. Most financial gurus recommend saving 10% or 20% of your income. That’s great, but if you really want to make an impact, aim to save 50% or 70% of your income. If you have to start small, start small. Even $25 a month is good. As you earn more and develop better habits, save as much as possible. The more you set aside, the quicker your wealth snowball will grow.

Small amounts matter. Frugality is an important part of personal finance. Your everyday habits have a huge impact on your financial success. Thrift helps you build good habits, and makes a real difference over time. Plus, there are tons of opportunities to flex your frugal muscles. And, more and more, I’m learning that there’s virtue in efficiency. It really is better to enjoy financial independence on $24,000 per year than to do so at $48,000 per year. (More on this in the future.) The bottom line? Frugality buys freedom.

Large amounts matter more. It’s good to clip coupons and to save money on groceries, but it’s even better to save on the big stuff like buying a car or a house. By making smart choices on big-ticket items, you can save thousands of dollars at once. Practice thrift, but always be looking for Big Wins. Big Wins are the quickest way to wealth.

You are 100% responsible for your income. How much you earn directly reflects what the market believes you’re worth. Your income is based on the demand for your knowledge and skills, the quality and quantity of your work, and how well you market yourself to potential employers or customers. To earn more, you must be worth more. That might mean learning more, working more, working better — or all three.

Slow and steady wins the race. The most successful folks are those who work longest and hardest at things they love to do. So try to find ways to make frugality fun, and recognize that you’re in this for the long haul. You’re making a lifestyle change, not looking for a quick fix. Be patient and gritty, and you will persevere.

The perfect is the enemy of the good. Too many people never get started putting their finances in order because they don’t know that the “best” first step is. Don’t worry about getting things exactly right — just choose a good option and do something to get started.

Action is the cornerstone of success. It’s easy to put things off, but the sooner you start moving toward your goals, the easier they’ll be to reach. It’s better to start with small steps today than to wait for that someday when you’ll be able to make great strides. Get moving. Trust that you’ll pick up momentum in the future.

Failure is okay. Everyone makes mistakes — even billionaires like Warren Buffett. Don’t let one slip-up drag you down. One key difference between those who succeed and those who don’t is the ability to recover from a setback and keep marching toward a goal. Use failures to learn what not to do next time.

There’s no single “right” way to achieve financial success. Each of us is different. We have different goals, personalities, and experiences. We each need to find the tools and techniques that are effective for our own situations. There’s no one right way to save, invest, pay off debt, or buy a house — and don’t believe anyone who tells you there is. Do what works for you. (Note, however, that there are wrong ways to do these things — steer clear of obvious bad choices.)

Smart money management is more about mindset than it is about math. Financial success comes when you master the mental game of money. It’s not about understanding the numbers. The math of personal finance is simple: Spend less than you earn and invest the difference. We all get it. Instead, it’s controlling your habits and emotions that’s difficult. Use barriers and pre-commitment to automatically do the right thing.

You can have anything you want — but you can’t have everything you want. Being smart with money isn’t about giving up your plasma TV or your daily latte. It’s about setting priorities and managing expectations, about choosing to spend only on the things that matter to you while cutting costs on the things that don’t. Everything’s a trade-off. Decide the level of comfort that’s right for you. There’s no right or wrong. You just have to be willing to pay the price for the lifestyle you choose.

Financial balance lets you enjoy tomorrow and today. You don’t have to choose between spending today and saving for tomorrow. You can do both. Strive for moderation in all things: Pursue your goals, but don’t forget frugality; be frugal, but don’t forget your goals. From my experience, both spendthrifts and misers tend to be unhappy.

It’s more important to be happy than it is to be rich. Don’t be obsessed with money — it won’t buy you happiness. Financial success should be a side effect of a happy, productive life — not a primary aim. Sure, money will give you more options in life, but true wealth is about something more. True wealth is about relationships, good health, and ongoing self-improvement. Everything else is a lower priority.

Please note that these are not fixed in stone. My financial philosophy has evolved with time, and will continue to evolve as I learn and experience more with money.

Also, these are my rules and guidelines for building wealth. As you begin to manage your money more mindfully, you’ll develop your own financial tenets. Your experience may or may not match mine. Your tenets might be similar — but there might be some differences too.

The Biggest Change to My Financial Philosophy

There’s been one huge change to my financial philosophy over the past 11-1/2 years.

When I started this site, I firmly believed what I wrote at the start of this article: “There’s no reliable way to get rich quickly; however, there’s a time-tested path to get rich slowly.” Today, I realize I was wrong. There is a reliable way to get rich quickly — or at least moderately quickly. But it’s not easy.

Since I sold Get Rich Slowly, I’ve discovered the financial independence movement. (This is commonly called the FIRE — or FI/RE — movement. These letters stand for Financial Independence/Retire Early.) Financial independence (and early retirement) are all about achieving a high saving rate — through a combination of frugal living and high income — so that you’re able to quit work in years instead of decades. A great intro to the topic is Mr. Money Mustache’s article about the shockingly simple math behind early retirement.

Here’s the basic idea: The higher your saving rate, the sooner you can retire. If you save ten percent, as is commonly recommended by financial advisers and personal-finance books, it’ll take you roughly 50 years to stockpile enough to quit your job. If you save twenty percent, as recommended by aggressive advisers and money bloggers, it’ll take you about 35 years to accumulate enough to leave work. But if you can, say, save half your income, you can retire in less than 20 years.

This isn’t a scam. It’s math. It’s truth.

Discovering this “secret” (which isn’t really a secret, obviously) changed my entire financial philosophy. Sure, it’s great to get rich slowly — but you can do better.

The Bottom Line

Now, five years after becoming an advocate for the “shockingly simple math”, I’ve moderated a bit. I’ve returned to center.

I still believe that early retirement via a high saving rate is a fantastic goal for many people. If you’re one of those who wants to quit the rat race as soon as possible, you should absolutely do what you can to live on less while earning a high salary.

At the same time, I recognize that not everyone is eager to retire early. Some people like their jobs. My ex-wife Kris, for instance, loves her work and has no desire to rush to retirement. She’s saved enough that she’ll be done soon anyhow, but she’s happy to continue doing what she’s doing for the next few years.

Plus, there are people who like their luxuries. They like driving a nice car, and if that means sacrificing a few years of retirement, so be it. They enjoy living in a nice neighborhood or taking fancy vacations or spending big bucks on their cable television package. For them, these expenses align with their values, but early retirement isn’t as appealing.

When I first learned about early retirement, I looked on people like this with disdain. Sad but true. After thinking about this for a few years, though, I’ve come to realize that it’s not fair of me to judge the choices others make — as long as these choices are deliberate and aligned with their value system. (But if people are spending out of habit or because that’s what their friends do, or if their spending isn’t congruent with their life purpose, well then I’m here to help!)

The bottom line is that my goal is to help you no matter what your goals are and no matter where you are on the road to financial freedom. I understand that people are imperfect. We’re not machines who can automatically make optimal choices. (Hell, I’m not even sure there are optimal choices in most circumstances.) I’ve made plenty of money mistakes in my own life, so I’m not about to judge you for your missteps.

And that’s what I want to do here at Get Rich Slowly.

If your goal is to achieve early retirement, I want to give you the info you need to achieve that aim. If your goal is to have a happy home in suburbia, I want to help you do that too. If your goal is to drop out of society so that you can travel the world with only a backpack of possessions, I’ll do what I can to teach you how to make that dream come true.

One last thing: As always, I believe personal finance is personal. I believe our choices are shaped by who we are and what we believe. I intend for Get Rich Slowly to be a place for everyone to come together and exchange ideas, regardless of belief. In the past, I kept things as free from politics and religion as possible. I’ll continue to do that — with an exception here and there. Get Rich Slowly isn’t blue or red. It’s purple. (Well, it’s green actually…)

Reminder: Comments are goofy right now. They’re stuck in ALL CAPS and I don’t have a way to fix this until we migrate Get Rich Slowly to a new server. Sorry.

The post My Financial Philosophy: The Core Tenets of Get Rich Slowly appeared first on Get Rich Slowly.

from Finance http://www.getrichslowly.org/blog/2017/10/16/financial-philosophy/ via http://www.rssmix.com/