@johnwwwatson Joan held her books in hand, mostly art history and a few sketch books. She knew John liked to see her draw. And she knew he likes to she her draw him. She walked up to his dorm, blonde hair curled and a cute, but comfortable red dress on and a pair of flip flops. She knocked on the door quietly, feeling calmer then she should. Art theory always helped her nerves, but…This was big and she didn’t feel worried at all. She just wondered how he would take it when she asked him. “Hello?” She asked, waiting.
This’ll be long, but I’ll bold important parts for those who want to skim this.
Long story turned short, Life got hectic. Basically, my mental issues involving depression and anxiety hit combined with a lack of muse, too many things to do and too little time. So while I still struggle some days with myself mentally, for the most part, I feel okay enough and less busy enough to come back. Plus, I kind of missed John and his fuckin’ sass. So, here I am again.
While I am back, I still am in school (for another year-ish, hopefully!) and now my job has gone from 28 hours/week to 36+/week. So, replies for now will be at least once a day until school starts. I’ll give an update then.
I’ll be updating the page over the next day or two, as well as changing some verses around. As of this moment, all RPs done previously are deleted and considered ‘done’. I will also be deleting verses that I had with just one person. If you want to keep our verse, Please message me!
I’ll also be following new blogs over the next few days and reblogging some sentence starters. :)
Q was nineteen and had moved out of his parents place as soon as he could, not for lack of being comfortable, rather to prove his independence. He heard a knock on the door of his flat and turned his attention to the screen with the surveillance video, a groan coming from him a moment later when he realized it was his dad. Quentin was in the middle of working on something but needed to now discard it, he closed what he was doing and walked to the door. "Dad." He muttered as he opened the door.
"I’ll take my mask off only if you can guess my name."
Enola smiled behind her mask at the challenge. "I recognize your voice. But your hair might be the give away. I don't know many men with dirty blonde hair, John Watson," she guessed.
