#anyway he's all gentlemanly with his wife

[softquietsteadylove]

You think you can make another marriage contract AU and show us how Gil is careful around her and such? It was such a sweet interaction from the last one I do wish to see it another time in another situation. Pretty please? 💚

"You're doing pretty good," Gilgamesh chuckled, leaving Thena to her chopping now that she seemed to be getting the hang of it. Very slowly, but still.

"You don't have to patronise me," she muttered as she sliced through the onion carefully. He had already done the cross chopping for her, all she had to do now was slice down straight.

"I'm not, I'm not, I really think you're doing great." He looked over his shoulder again but Thena was almost leaned down to be eye level with her task at hand. She really was terrible in the kitchen, but it was nothing short of charming.

Gil opened up the higher cabinets to retrieve some wine glasses for them. Thena didn't have a habit of drinking, but he had seen her enjoy a glass of wine with dinner here or there. And he'd brought home some nice champagne that he'd gotten out of a business deal. After he'd wiped the blood off the label, of course. "Y'know, I think-"

The glass slipped from his fingers on its way down, its large and crystal figure shattering on the kitchen floor. It was sharp against the serenity of the smooth music he'd selected for the quiet evening.

"Ay shi-" he cursed, stepping back in his house slippers. He looked over, the yelp that had hit the air registering in his mind. He frowned, "Thena?"

She had let out the sound of panic and ducked down. She was crouched on her knees, arms curled over her head. It was a reflex, based on pure instinct. And he hated to see it.

He left the glass on the floor. He could tend to it in a minute. He walked carefully, trying to approach her as gently as possible. "I'm sorry, Thena."

She was shaking. But she peeked out at him, shame written all over her face. "S-Sorry, I didn't-"

"Don't be sorry," he soothed, placing his hands on her shoulders. He helped her stand and lean on the counter. "It scared me, too. Are you okay?"

She nodded, but he could see the trembling in her fingers.

He took her hand in his, "come on, let's sit down."

She didn't argue with him, which was as good a sign as any that she wasn't feeling her best. She let him lead her to the couch, "I'm fine, Gil, really."

He liked it when she called him Gil. "You don't have to be. I'm sorry I startled you."

She shook her head, but a familiar look of annoyance came over her. "No, I...I would like nothing more than to say it's nothing."

He continued to hold her hand. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

She sighed. She really didn't, but she was going to anyway. She curled her legs up on the couch. He helped her sort out the blanket of his she liked to lay over them. "Would you be surprised if I brought up my father?"

He tried to keep his answers passive and neutral. This was her story, and it wouldn't do any good for him to start cursing about what a rat bastard piece of shit that guy was.

"He became more violent the older I became," Thena recited as if it were blase and not something horrifying. "By the time I was an adult, he realised that I was no longer so easy to intimidate. But throwing things was still effective."

Gil balled his fist up under the blanket. Her father would throw his drink glasses at her? Maybe letting him live wasn't the solution, no matter how much the drunk gambling addict owed him.

"It wasn't every night, but if he really needed something, he would throw anything we had on hand," she concluded. The way she met his eye was a sign that she was done telling the story, and moreover she was done with the vulnerability it took to tell it.

Gil pulled his hand out from the blanket and moved it slowly, making sure it was in her direct line of vision. It was one of those things he had learned was good for her when she had moved in. When she couldn't see all of him was when she was most on edge. So he moved slowly, talked gently.

And not just because of his vow to take care of her as his wife. They didn't have to be married for him to believe that she deserved to be cared for, especially after all she had endured on her own already.

Thena watched as he reached for her hand again. She gave it, and it seemed she was becoming more and more willing to share in those little kinds of affections.

He raised her hand to his lips equally slowly, and she allowed it. For all he had done already to acclimate her to her life being married to him, he was not a barbarian, and he wouldn't force her to accept anything she didn't want. That included the simplest, smallest of things, like a kiss on the hand.

She tilted her head.

"I'm sorry, Thena, I should have been more careful," he resolved, already thinking about having all the glassware moved to lower down, open shelves so there was less chance of a surprise like this.

"It was an accident, Gil, these things are bound to happen," she excused for him, and he thought perhaps too eagerly. She leaned forward in her seat on the couch, towards him. "If anything I wish my reaction could be different."

Why had he spared her father's life? Oh, because he worked for the police department and it always paid to have someone in there under his thumb. But he was seriously reconsidering it now.

"There was a time when I would have said he would never do such a thing."

It was a quiet confession, and she was even smiling. But he knew those words well; he had thought them plenty of times when he was young. But learning the business really beat that mentality away. And Thena didn't deserve to know that firsthand.

"Why don't you sit?" he suggested gently, giving both her hands a squeeze, "I'll finish dinner."

She pouted at him, and it was way (way) too cute. "But the onion isn't done. And I was doing quite well, all things considered."

He had to smile. She was proud of her progress, and it wasn't just the onion to be considered in that. He chuckled; he admired this part of Thena. This was the same woman who had been offered two options: marry him as a form of insurance, mutual destruction to keep her father in line and in business with them, or to let him kill her father, although it would leave her destitute with her father's bad name looming over her. And she had chosen the option that was arguably more daunting, and tougher.

And how could he not fall in love with a woman like that?

Thena stood, throwing her blanket off her legs herself, putting her hands on her hips. "And you told me you would show me what 'julienne' meant once I finished."

It was just slicing things lengthwise, on an angle to get technical. But he smiled up at his beautiful wife - reminded himself that she considered them married in name only - and stood with her. "Anything you want, sweetheart."

She pursed her lips at the familiar words. He knew she thought they were hollow and placating, but he really did mean them. If she ever wanted for anything while she was with him, all she had to do was ask.

"Hey."

She half turned, already partway down the three wide and curved stairs that separated the foyer and kitchen from the sitting area. Maybe this fancy architecture, artsy mansion was too much (like Thena said). "Hm?"

He walked to her, hands in his pockets. He leaned over slowly, and she didn't lean back and out of his reach. Eventually, his lips collided with her forehead, as intended.

When he looked at her again, her eyes fluttered a little bit, and he was pretty sure she was blushing. She really made it hard not to develop feelings for his own wife.

He retrieved the broom from the pantry and started sweeping up the glass.

Thena frowned, "Gil, I can-"

"Don't even think about it, hot stuff," he winked at her, just for the fun of it. She bristled. "Focus on getting that onion done by the time I'm finished. Then maybe I'll show you how to mandolin."

"The musical instrument?"

She really was terrible in the kitchen, and he couldn't have adored her more for it.

[newtonsheffield]

Oh no... poor baby Anthony! 🥺 Not only is Dorset tall, fit and handsome, but he also got to dance with Kate and brings her an enormous bouquet of flowers. Not a bunch of wildflowers like a schoolboy that Anthony feels like at that moment.

If only he knew that Kate had put his flowers on her bedside table and they were the last thing she saw before falling asleep, and the first thing she noticed this morning when she woke up.

Also, the fact that Anthony was Kate's first kiss?! And as it turns out later, the one and only? You just know he is going to be incredibly smug about it when they are married. And who could blame him?

Kat actually took Anthony’s flowers home and pressed them between the pages of pride and prejudice. She felt a little embarrassed as she did it and truly she hardly gave Captain Dorset a second thought after she danced with him, unable to find a way out of his polite request. She tried the excuse she’d used with men all night-

“Thank you, Captain Dorset, but I’m afraid I’m somewhat spoken for.”

And where other men had nodded, a little disappointed he looked around. “Well then you have to tell me which of these cads has left a lovely lady by herself all evening.”

Kate felt her face twitch, “Oh well, he’s not exactly… here.”

“Miss Sharma, are you inventing a sweetheart so you Don’t have to dance with men?” He laughed.

And it seemed easier than explaining the actual situation, that she was in love with a man who hadn’t actually asked her to be anything at all to him. So she shrugged, “Not exactly.”

“Then I suppose this man wouldn’t begrudge us one dance.”

Kate sighed, “I suppose not.”

But it was Anthony she thought of as she went to sleep. Anthony’s strong arms holding her close. Not Dorset. She was genuinely surprised to see him the next day.

And of course Anthony teases Kate a little. Though it’s understandable. By the time Kate was old enough to be flirting with the boys in the village and looking at them in a different light they were all off fighting in the war.

“You’re awful!”

Anthony scoffed at his wife’s gentle niggling, “And why then, did you give me your very first kiss, if I’m so awful.”

“Anthony, stop!” Kate groaned, covering his mouth so his mother and sister would not hear but they did anyway.

“Well, I hope when she did, Anthony you were more gentlemanly than this!” His mother said, swatting at him.

“I was the picture of grace.”

“He immediately teased me.”

[meerawrites]

First / Last Line Tag...

Full story thus far -> here.

Tagged by: @gracehosborn, thank you <3

Tagging: @musicboxmemories, @malicious-compliance-esq, @see-arcane & @bluecatwriter (if you want) <3 I debated doing this fic but it got a bit: 🥵🥵. Anyway, this is a draft of a draft of a novel I will write eventually, right now it is just practice writing in Mrs. Mina Murray-Harker's voice.

Mina Harker’s Journal 

August 24th

Letter Mina Harker to Lucy Westenra

Dear Lucy, 

I know you will be anxious to hear what has happened since we departed from the train station in Whitby. My dearest, I got to Hull… just fine, caught a boat to Hamburg, and boarded another train. I believe, in my excitement, I can hardly recall the journey save for that I knew I was going to Jonathan. I found him, my other dear one, so pale and ghastly thin and weak-looking. All his usual strength and resolution had gone from his eyes. He said he is only a mess for himself and he cannot recollect anything from the past for a long time. He was in some horrible shock. Sister Agatha, good creature that she surely is and a born nurse agreed and said it would tax Jonathan further to recall it all. She said I have no cause for concern or jealousy and indeed, I agree. I am now sitting by his bedside, and oh! He is awoken!

When he woke he gentlemanly fetched his coat and something from his coat pocket. 

“Willhemina,” Jonathan said. 

I knew he was in dangerous earnest for he hasn’t called me that since our engagement. 

“…you know, dear, my ideas of the trust between husband and wife: there should be no secret, no concealment. I have had a great shock, and when I try to think of what it is I feel my head spin round, and… I-I do not know if it was all real or the dreaming of a madman. You know I have had brain fever, and that is to be mad. The secret is here, and I do not want to know it. I want to take up my life here, with our marriage.”

We have decided to marry as soon as formalities are completed. He then fell back, most tired. Sister Agatha sent for a Chaplain from the English Mission Church. I am very solemn and yet very happy. I can hardly speak, nor even write, anything besides the joy for ‘my husband.’ Still, I miss you and wish to see you again, I still pray you are well and happy with Arthur Holmwood. Your dearest and ever-loving, Mina Harker 

[wastemanjohn]

I want so bad to ask for more of the fic where it’s John in Hell and f!Sam and f!Dean but I CANT REMEMBER THE TITLE😭 (also you’re amazing for titling your fics before you finish them)

hehe I didn't include it bc while it IS a work it is not in progress 😇 i still think about it tho and i really hope to finish it someday. and all the titles are very much subject to change haha

i thiiink i shared an early version of this scene with you before? anyway it's the only one without big gaps so have it haha

The last thing John sees before he dies is his wife.

Mary looks exactly as when she left him, on the night she went upstairs for the last time; grubby maternity nightgown, barefoot young mother glow, blonde hair like a ratty, fitfully slept in halo. A middle America angel materializing from the flames. 

Flames. Feels like one hell of a cruel joke.

It would be the gentlemanly thing to do to get up and meet her. But John can’t feel his legs.

Maybe it’s not a good enough excuse. Maybe the last dregs of his energy are being spent on trying to inflate his lungs with some kind of consistency, only managing small gulps of air seething with ash and black smoke, his crushed ribs shoving it out again. He can feel the heat from the fire on his face. See the hollow frame of the window he just plummetted through, three storeys above office block, bordered with the remains of shattered glass. It’s in his hair, his clothes. He lies on the sidewalk in a blanket of his own blood, gushing from the holes in his gut made by his own knife. From god knows where else.

But it’s okay, because Mary’s coming towards him. Out of that burning office block, untouched by broken glass, and when she drops to her knees beside him, she’s smiling. Smiling the way she used to smile, before the girls were born, before John had to work so much to keep everyone fed and clothed, before she got all disillusioned and he got all mean, before they had to tread so carefully around the cracks in their foundation. And Mary drops to her knees beside him, giving him that beautiful smile, that uncomplicated smile, like she’s just pleased he exists; that smile that was degrading in his memories like a nitrate print, never entirely captured in the photos stuffed in the back of his journal, the way photos are always just an impression, devoid of the live intricacies that make you love someone; and as Mary tilts her head and puts her hand with its pretty delicate fingers on his face, John knows this isn’t right. That whatever he’s feeling, it should be identifiable. More.

He’s very cold. His bones are cold. He feels a twitch in his throat, soundless attempt at a groan. The sidewalk feels like putty against his back.

Mary murmurs wordlessly. Soothing. Her hand comes down on his cheek, delicate, warm, the bump of her wedding ring. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here now.”

Her voice - god, so long since John has heard her voice, the lilt and cadence lost to time - 

“It’ll be good this time. Just you and me - it’ll be like it was in the beginning."

The beginning. The way the beginning always comes back.

“Just relax,” she says. “I’ve got you.”

She’s getting blurry. The fire rages on. And it’s everything John has wanted for sixteen years. To see her. Tell her how her little girls are grown, how they’re smart and brave and beautiful. Conversations he’s rehearsed in his head, kept in a vault for when he’ll need them again, for the afterlife he never really believed in; but when you’re lost, when you’re ripped torn up inside and you can never get what you want, you have to hold onto something. But now -

John draws in as much breath as he can. Uses it to tell his wife, “We really need to talk.”

Just saying it leaves him exhausted. He doesn’t think he ever said that to Mary.  Not the way she said it to him, when he’d be home long after the girls were in bed, working late or at the bar.

The way she stopped saying it eventually, the way she wouldn’t even look up when he came home, the way they became sexless roommates who quietly despised each other, tiptoeing around it with the mess of little girl toys on the floor.

Those memories don’t usually come easy to John. Funny how they do now. Of all fucking times.

Mary thumbs at his cheek. “We will talk,” she tells him, voice heavy like a promise. “We’ll have all the time we could ever need now. And I’ll tell you everything you could ever want to know.”

John can feel himself fading. How much is everything? 

The lick-hiss of the flames is meditative, kind of. Just five minutes ago, he thought he was hunting a simple spirit. It feels shitty and poetic, that this is going to be how it ends.

Anyway; not like there’s anything he can do about it. Nothing but watch Mary lay down next to him on the sidewalk, pressed into his flank, arm around his waist. His blood pressed into patches like paint on her nightgown. Covering her hand. She lays her head on his chest, ear to the heart that’s giving up the fight.

“I missed you,” she says. Lips soft against his ripped shirt. “Come with me, John. Come home.”

He can hear sirens. Hear them low and distant, like he made them up in his head. He’s very cold; but Mary feels warm and alive against him, and it’s all he’s wanted for sixteen years, and if this is how it ends then so be it.

“Come with me,” Mary says again. Tips of her hair stained with blood. “We’ve got all the time we could need. We’ll have eternity.”

It’s a good thing, John thinks, that they have eternity. He has a feeling they’re going to need it.

[dragon-fly34]

Where did aunt Marie and uncle Arthur met for the first time? And what was Marie’s reaction when Arthur asked to married her and raise a daughter together?

Hi! Thanks for the ask, I needed it 🙏🫂

(I will answer the questions in sequences starting with the first and until the last 👍)

Besides, I already had some ideas when they met on my roleswap AU, but I never got back to them so I'll mention Roleswap AU in the ask too.

Have a good read and follow everything as there is a lot of text:

After the birth of Mario and Luigi, Mario's family had to leave MK due to Kamek's kidnappings, remembering that Arthur and Marie didn't even know each other at that time, we imagine that the family tried to forget all that trauma and make Mario and Luigi have a normal life (?)

(I'm not that good at this type of text so don't judge me because of that)

So when the Mario brothers were around 6 to 8 years old, they looked at their uncles and asked "why don't you have a wife for yourself like our father?" and the uncles looked nervously at their nephews and replied "because we haven't felt true love like your father" and then they were like that 🤨

Maybe Arthur saw Marie one day and they started talking a lot and soon saw that they had a lot in common, so they started seeing each other a lot.

Marie loved Arthur's playful way, it was very cute even at times annoying, he was also very gentlemanly with her, imagine him teaching her Italian:

Arthur: You're doing well in Italian Marie, but I want to teach you a great word. Marie: Great, what's the word Arthur? Arthur: Ti amo amore mio (I love you, my love) Marie: What does this mean? Arthur: It means I love you my love. Marie: Questo è così carino e adorabile... ( Arthur: 🥹💞

Arthur soon realized that he felt something different than he felt for Marie, it was something different when it was with his brothers (Pio and Tony), his parents and his sister-in-law Mia, it didn't take long for his brothers to ask “Chi è questa Marie, fratello? La tua ragazza?” and he answered “Lei è solo un'amica! Non una ragazza, idioti!” and then he runs after the two, blushing with rage.

Also in Roleswap AU, the two met at a party (maybe MK's birthday or a reunion of the kingdoms) Arthur was still prince of the Flower Kingdom and Marie was princess of Sarasaland, they talked all night and became fast friends, Arthur would look at each other romantic for Marie just as Pio looked for Mia when they met.

Now answering the second question:

This will be a little difficult as I'm not very good at this type of posting, but I can try.

Let's say that after months (or years) Arthur had the courage and asked Marie to marry him, I imagine everyone was excited and happy at the same time.

Now to answer the last question, I actually had a cool idea:

I like to think that the name Marylin was a conjunction that Arthur and Marie made when she was pregnant.

Arthur kept using his name to try to make a name for a boy and a girl, but all the names he said were either bad, so Marie took her name and put it together (I think the pronunciation of the name Marie and Mary are almost identical, so she took the name Mary and made some funny combinations until she added Marylin and they both agreed)

So when Marylin was born, she was similar to Mario and Luigi when they were born, but with light brown hair and eyes, so they both cried a lot together with Mario and Luigi (who at the time were 13 years old), because they said they were going to protect her.

If you've read this far, thank you very much, sorry for the delay because for some reason my computer and cell phone erased the rest of my things (and now I'm writing again), but thank you anyway.

[musky-potato]

Affections

This was inspired after I saw a few panels of Iske being so sweet and seeming to be having a hard time holding himself back whenever he witnesses Ruby being her adorable self. It's not a fic, but more like word vomit. As per usual, this contains a few spoilers, and plenty use of the word 'wife' (I may or may not have some certain likings for that word. A little too much, maybe, its not even funny) so please read at your own risk.

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Tw's: None. Just fluff and comfort.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the story. This post is nothing but a fruit of my imaginations of how I'd picture him act towards Ruby based on my observation of him through canon (both novel and manhwa). Another thing I might add is that this post hasn't been edited yet so- LMAO. Enjoy!

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I feel like Iske isn't one for PDA. Yes, he's quite the affectionate one. But I feel like he'd be more comfortable doing so in private. He's not really one who likes to show off to people, but that doesn't mean that he minds or even cares about what people think about him. If he wants to, or when he thinks that his wife is being much too adorable for him to bear, he'd just go for it. Be it a kiss on the forehead, on her hands, wrist, or temple. Heck, Andymion's canonically became their third wheel. And it's only because Ruby put a stop to it, so he did. I think there's even a high chance that Iske had already noticed first that they still had a company at the time but still chose to ignore it. I mean, c'mon, he's a knight. He probably has a high sense or something. There's no way someone as obvious as Andy (and his horse) even managed to escape his detection. And at the time, Iske had only looked a little pissed at him. Not because he was caught, of course, but because Andy had just ruined the atmosphere for them! And Andy wasn't even trying to hide his presence! So yes, I'd like to think that he just doesn't really care about others. It was either that, or because he was just too busy at the time to be focusing on kissing the daylights out of his wife to even care to pay attention to his surroundings.

After all, rather than wasting his time thinking about what others have to say to him, he'd much rather spend his time spoiling or paying attention to his wife, Ruby.

On formal occasions or situations where he really couldn't do whatever he wants or go wild (in case he'd get another stern reprimand from his father about decorum and propriety), all he'd do is place his hand on the small of her back, sometimes shoulder. Acting as if he were guiding her in a gentlemanly manner, and if he couldn't hold her hand, then he'd hide it by taking her arm to get it entwined with his. Acting as if he were merely escorting her. Ruby would often catch him on his scheme; but in the end, she'd just shake her head or giggle because, really, it wasn't like she was any better than her husband or anything anyway.

However! It's totally different when they're in the privacy of their own room. That, or if there's no one around to catch them being their lovey-dovey selves. Then no restraint needed! >&lt;

And because this is SFW only, I shall try to keep it PG-rated only, lmao. But anyways!

If they really got the privacy to themselves, then there'd be no hesitation for his touch. A hug would be given, a kiss (which often ended up turning as a full blown make out), and some caresses that would last longer compared to how he did in public. If it's in his office, then he'd either hug her while standing at first or move somewhere else to find something that Ruby could sit on. He's just attentive like that! Or if he happens to enjoy their hugs so much that he'd hate to break them apart just to let Ruby rest her legs, then he'd just sit her on his desk. Or the meeting table, really. He doesn't care. He'd let her sit there as he leans forward to either rest his head on top of her head or bury his face in between the junctions of her neck. It depends on how needy he currently is, really. Sometimes if he couldn't find anything for her to sit on, he'd just lift her up with his strong arms. Causing her to yelp before wrapping her arms to his neck for balance as he lets himself to rest his head to either her collarbone or chest, all while he still standing on his 2 feet, listening to her heartbeat and basking to the comfort of her warmth.

It's not really a fixed thing, but occasionally, if he finds himself to be much too touch starved, he'll simply go for the crook of her neck where he can feel her pulse and inhale the sweet scent that's wafting from her. All while keeping a tight grip on his hug before slowly loosening it down after he finally could gather his bearings. If it's just any other day when he needs a quick recharge of her, he'd just bring her to his arms as he placed his head on top of hers. All while enjoying the scent that was so uniquely hers before heading off somewhere to attend to his duties. Not before giving a few light pecks or a kiss after saying his goodbye, and see you later (possibly at dinner or in his bedchamber; it's theirs now; he had officially refused the notion of them sleeping separately, like ever, if he could help it).

I'd like to think that once they really have some time to themselves, he'll spend it all either relaxing or doing anything that Ruby wants. Be it just a casual walk together in the garden, reading some books, listening to her ramblings about her activities and recent shenanigans (sometimes cutting her words with few light teasing that would cause her to blush and gets flustered), going on dates, or just plain hanging out side-by-side in silence within their room! All while doing nothing but bask in each other's presence as he sits her sideways on top of his lap, leaning back on the huge couch rest as he lets her rests her head on his wide shoulder. One hand perched safely around her waist while the other is either playing, fiddling, or gently stroking on her much smaller hands, before he proceeds to lift his hand up to gently caressing her long strands of hair.

He'd listen to her calm breathing, stroking her arms, and giving light pats of comfort. Something that tends to make her end up feeling drowsy sometimes even makes her barely have the strength to keep her eyes open. Meanwhile, Iske would just stay there, watching in amusement as Ruby continues her futile effort to fight the sleepiness away. And eventually, if she does end up losing and falling asleep, he'd watch her there, perched on his lap, safely within his arms, as he lets his mind truly wander about the fact that he really gets to have this. Witnessing Ruby, his wife, who is currently at peace, free, and unbothered by the nightmares and trauma that used to haunt her in the past. He thinks about that, all while praying at the same time that he'd like for it to remain like that, always. Ruby being her happy and cheerful self while he stays in the back or her side, watching and supporting her in doing whatever she wants. And just before the drowsiness managed to finally get hold of himself too, he looks around to make sure the throw blanket has really done its job properly to cover his wife to avoid her catching a cold after waking from her light nap, Iske finally closes his eyes. Thinking right before he finally let sleep overtake his consciousness, that yes, he's finally at peace and happier than he's ever been.

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Okay this is all I got for now, i guess. Do tell me if there's anything you'd like for me to do. I'm currently accepting request! Hehe, thank you for reading! Bye for now!^^

Masterlist

[yanderu-deredere]

captive.

★ your friends ignore your messages, like always. this time, it felt more embarrassing because you weren't the only ones they were ditching. still, at least, this time, you didn't feel alone

a/n: a little extra chapter to make up for my absence! hope you guys wanted to see the dinner scene LOL i ended up not writing it before just because i was too lazy but i ended up wanting to write it neway

part one (hook.) ★ part two (line.) ★ part three (sink.) ★ extras (here) ★ part four (drawn.) ★ part five (quartered.)

pairing: casimir fiala x reader x emmaline fiala word count: 1000 (WOOOAH)

warning: gender neutral reader, reader is attractedto males and females, reader's friends are really the worst, implied drugging someone's drink, final ship is poly

"I'm so sorry about my friends." You apologised, the most embarrassed expression on your face as you continued fidgeting in your seat "I swear, they'll come down soon."

Then, you glanced back down at your phone, noting that it was about to die. Unfortunately, your messages went unanswered. Dinner was getting cold. There were no signs of your friends.

"I-I'll go get them!" You stood, your chair making an ugly scraping sound as it was scooted away from the table "I'm sure they probably fell asleep!"

Emm, however, just placed her hand on your forearm, gentle and rather hospitable smile on her face "I'm telling you not to worry about it. We can eat without them."

"In fact, we can put our leftovers for them in the oven while it's off later so it won't go cold, hmmm?" Casimir suggested as he sat on your other side, amused smirk on his face

You had never heard of people doing that before but it made sense to since the oven was designed to retain temperatures.

"Okay." You quickly gave in.

As you were about to pull your chair in and sit back down, Casimir stood and pushed your chair in for you. You felt your cheeks grow a little hot at his kind and gentlemanly gesture.

Quietly, shyly, you thanked him.

"It's no problem." His smirk only grew before he turned, not sitting down but going somewhere else entirely "What about some wine to pair with the steak?"

You felt a little surprised that you were literally being wined and dined. Was that their intentions or were you being weird? But they were so touchy, their hands brushing against you and their eyes lingering on you...

Or was that just you trying to push your feelings onto them?

And what were your feelings anyway?

It all felt like a jumbled mess that you didn't want to really think about all too hard. So, you nodded and smiled nervously "I'll take a glass."

Casimir seemed happy to hear that because he grabbed three wine glasses and laid them all out on the kitchen counter. You watched him, feeling a little bad that he cooked food and was now pouring everyone drinks.

"I have been saving this Cabernet for a special occasion, you know." Casimir uncorked the bottle with surprising finesse "I have never been more sure of anything that this is the perfect time to open it."

Then, you felt Emm wrap her arm around your shoulders so you glanced at her, a question in your gaze.

She just smiled at you "That wine was bottled on the day I asked this priss out. How long's it been?"

You gaped at her for a few seconds, the disbelief taking a few seconds to sink in before your gaze snapped to Casimir who was already taking both opened bottle and the three poured glasses over.

"What? Six years?" Casimir placed the bottle down first before putting one glass in front of you and then his wife "Emm is the funniest, you know."

"When I got the damn bottle, I bought it with all the money I got. Wanted to impress th'bastard." She picked up the wine glass with a delicateness that both surprised and awed you "Turns out he couldn't even drink."

"Must have been seven years now since we have gotten together, then." Casimir swirled his glass and took a deep breath.

"How old were you guys?" You took the wine with both hands, nervous to ruin such beautiful glassware.

"I was twenty but I was turning twenty-one that year." Casimir seemed to get closer to you "Emm is two years older than me."

"Pervert." Emm muttered against the rim of the glass, smirk playing along her lips.

Casimir just winked at you, which made your ears heat up, before taking a slow sip of his own wine "You know, Emm was the one that was pursuing me."

"Really?" You peered at Emm, excited to hear the story of how two people who were such complete opposites got together.

Emm just smiled at you again, this time less gentle and more mysterious, before putting her wine glass down "Maybe anoth'r time."

You held back a sigh since you didn't want to seem rude. Instead, you took a sip from the wine, letting it coat your tongue.

You weren't a wine connoisseur so you didn't know exactly how it was supposed to taste. Still, you supposed, out of all the wines you've ever drunken, this one was relatively the best.

"I like it." You grinned at Casimir, taking another sip but bigger this time "It's not as bitter and it's kind of fruity-sweet?"

It took you a minute to really get the taste down but it was so nice that you took a third sip, really savouring it in your mouth.

Was it because it was older? Or was it something else entirely? You didn't really know how wines worked but they had mentioned saving this wine for a special occasion so it must've been a special wine.

Was it special because of when they got it? Or because it was such a good wine?

"I'm glad you like it." Casimir's voice pulled you out of your thoughts and you were especially glad to see that he returned your eagerness with a soft expression of your own.

For some reason, it made your entire body flush and hot. Or was that the alcohol? Couldn't be the alcohol. After all, you'd only taken a couple of sips a second ago.

Or was that a minute ago?

You put your glass down and turned to your food, suddenly feeling rather eager to eat. All you wanted to do was eat, spend more time with the couple on either side of you, chat with them, get to know them.

Your friends and your worries were certainly miles away.

All you could think about was Casimir, Emm and the good food in front of you.

[loungemermaid]

Happy pride! Here’s some lesbian t4t everlark headcanons

disclaimer I consider this an au and it’s entirely self indulgent okay bye

Peeta and Katniss laying in bed together one morning and Peeta asks Katniss what being a girl is like and Katniss is like. I do not think I’m the one to ask?? I don’t feel like a girl. Or a boy.

And Peeta goes huh. And asks Katniss if she’s ever thought about being a boy, or what she would feel like if she woke up as a boy the next morning

And Katniss is like, *shrugs* I dunno, I guess I wouldn’t care. Not much would change. And she asks Peeta if he woke up in a girl body what he would think and Peeta goes. Huh. I think I would like it, actually.

And so they try it out. Katniss starts referring to Peeta as her wife, using she/her pronouns for her, and Peeta likes it!! A lot!! So much that she doesn’t want to go back to being called a husband or a man. But she doesn’t know what to do, because although she’s seen trans people and knew of some in old Twelve, she doesn’t know how any of this works. She doesn’t know how to make her body feel any better. They experiment with makeup but Katniss is not good at it at ALL so Peeta goes to Effie

Who immediately starts crying and kissing all over her and welcomes her and tells her it’s going to be okay, that she can take her to her own doctors

And Peeta just blinks because what?? Effie is like her?? She’s known a woman like her this entire time?? The whole time??

Anyway, Effie takes her under her wing and gets her on hrt and everything is going so good!!!

And Katniss is still just wondering and going. Huh. She loves her wife, of course she does. That’s not what it’s about. She’s just been thinking about it since Peeta came out.

She starts doing some of the gentlemanly things Peeta used to. She starts leading when they dance around the kitchen. She kisses Peeta’s hand. She likes being more gentlemanly.

Peeta slips up and calls Katniss her husband once and she likes it. A lot. But she still likes being a wife too. She likes dresses. She likes getting dolled up. She doesn’t want to cut her hair. She talks to Effie about it, and Effie tells her she can be more than just a woman, or just a man. She can be whatever she wants.

So Katniss starts trying out they/them pronouns… and it feels good. And then they add in he/him… and that feels good too. It all feels good.

And then Katniss hears about low dose testosterone, and talks about their options, and decides to try it! And it’s wonderful. And one day, he sees a little more of his father in his face, and it’s better than he ever dreamed of. And when their voice drops a little, and they can sing in the same register as their dad, they cry happy tears for days. Katniss is still Katniss, and some days she’ll pull on a dress and let her wife twirl her around like the old days. And sometimes he’s Peeta’s husband. But a lot of the times, Katniss is just Katniss, and their hair is braided down their back like it has been all their life, and they’re in their dad’s hunting jacket and one of Peeta’s old boy shirts and anyone who’s confused can get bent, because Peeta and Katniss are so so happy.

[imaginedreamwrite]

Cowboy Curtis and his wife’s first kiss 💋

The gentle stride of his noble stud beneath you was smooth and calm, no urgency in its steps while Curtis rode with you from his property to a small lake nearby. It was one of the beaches that were off the beaten path, one that only locals really seemed to know about yet it promised amazing views and had crisp clear water.

Curtis had done all he could to help you fit in before he even took you on a trail ride, and now three weeks later he was taking you further from the property to his favourite spots.

“You’re going to have a good life here, I’m going to make it good for you. I promise.” He had said as much, he had whispered vows when you signed the legal document and still you’d never kissed.

He was gentlemanly, he was chivalrous and charismatic yet he never pushed beyond your boundaries. Curtis had drawn more intense feelings from you than any ex-boyfriend or potential partner you’d ever had. And still you hadn’t kissed.

“Its not California, but I thought you’d like to spend the day at a beach anyway.” He stopped just before the line of sand, where the trees created shadows and shade for Curtis’ stud. “Its not as fine as Californian sand, but I think you’ll like it.”

His hands held your hips tightly as he lifted you from the saddle, his strength holding you securely to his side as you regained movement in your legs. As far as you could see was the breathtaking nature of Montana.

The lake was clear and captivating, waters stretching for what seemed like miles. The beach was empty of people, inviting you and Curtis onto the sandy surface. He let you go ahead of him, watching you walk toward the beach while he removed a blanket and picnic bag, both tucked under the same arm.

“I used to come here a lot when I was younger.” Curtis spoke while you started to rip off your boots and strip down to your bare feet. “Could’ve swam here for hours.”

“Its beautiful.” Instead of palm trees and the intense heat of a California summer, there was a gentle lap of lake water against sandy beaches and the rustle of leaves as a breeze blew through the trees. “Its…wow.”

California was behind you, it was a part of your past although some portion of you missed the beaches and endless summer, this was something entirely different. With mountains in the distance and the nicker of his horse in the trees, it felt like home.

“Curtis-” you turned suddenly, coming to face him as he started setting up the blanket, basket and food.

“Maybe you could be happy here.”

“Curtis,” you spoke his name again, slowly stepping back toward him, “thank you for bringing me here.”

“I want you to be able to appreciate life here.” He stood, reaching for your hand when you were close. “Life can be hard but its good and honest-“

You slipped your arms around his neck and drew him down to your level. Your gaze dropped from his eyes to his lips, your tongue parting from mouth to draw across your lips wetting them.

“Ma’am,” Curtis’ voice was thick like honey, teasing you as he did, “you can’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” You questioned softly, quietly. “Why not?”

“Because…” Curtis cupped your chin and raised your head, lips dusting against your own, moving with every word. “…it makes me want to kiss you until time stops.”

Breath hitched in your throat. The kiss started light in a barely there manner and quickly became far more passionate and heated, fuelled by increasing desire and want. Your fingers wove into the hair at the nape of his neck, your toes curled in the sand as your heart started beating synonymously to his.

“You can,” you pulled away, shivering against him, “kiss me until time stops, I mean. I never want this to end.”

[kissesforsatoru]

Anyways alos also I had a … oddly similar situation where I def could’ve been bought by yan koko 😭😭😭

So here’s what happened: my dad a carpenter and apparently one of his clients I’ve meet before rlly likes me. She wanted my father to set me up with her son for a possible arrange marriage and my father did it bc the women was rlly relentless with her reasons such as son could provide money and have me be a stay home wife and I could bare grandkids. So he set me up on a arrange date that never happened bc we never got to meet the dude.

But I can imagine koko pressuring a parent of yours for a forced arrange marriage with all these reasonings and your parents setting you both up for a date and now your on a date with someone who you def didn’t want to be with but Koko rlly rlly pushed ur parents try to get you two together

- 🌑

WHAT IN THE WATTPAD 😭

jokes aside koko would absolutely pressure your parents for your hand in marriage or something like that. he’s definitely got the means to provide, and he can be gentlemanly when he wants to be to keep up appearances with your family (and he is gentlemanly with you no matter what, he’s just not so enthused about acting the same way towards people who aren’t you, but he will if it means he’ll have you in the end). he’ll basically do anything and everything to show that he is the perfect person for you.

not only that, but he kind of guilt trips you too. whenever you go on dates he’ll praise you and lavish you and all this shit, but he’ll also spout about how he just really likes you and he wants to treat you right. you’ll feel bad for not being happy about having to do stuff with him, and eventually give in or at the very least act like you enjoy his company.

koko is the manipulative yandere.

[kokusfluffyhair]

Dororo Relationship Headcanons (Zaddy Edition)

I can't get this idea out of my head, so let's go! I think this'll be a major flop, but what the hell

Don't take this too seriously.

I'll only be writing for the adult male major characters. Everything I'm writing is based on the 2019 anime of "Dororo".

There's NSFW content so minors DNI

Time to start with the one y'all probably hate the most - Daigo Kagemitsu the original Zaddy himself (he's the only one here who is canonly an actual dad)

Literally the most attractive image I could find of him and now I have to look at this face while I continue to write. Why's he kinda fine though?

+ Do not suggest that he trims his eyebrows. Just don't.

+ All right, hear me out. I think we can all agree that he is an ASSHOLE during the series, but he probably wasn't always like this

+ He used to have a better attitude and be kind of fun to be around. But once he got overwhelmed with his responsibility and his decaying land, he turned into the Kagemitsu we all know and hate

+ The man can't handle pressure, ok?

+ So he might have been kind of gentlemanly and intelligent. Once upon a time ...

+ Nowadays he's pretty easy to woo. He's got a praise kink. Remember, he does everything right and doesn't make mistakes.

+ But don't make it sound like you're praising him because you pity him. You've got to pull it off as being completely honest

+ He will start to respect you if you "understand politics" -- that means, you've got to agree with this Zaddy and support everything he does, even if he makes mistakes

+ He'll like talking about his successes, so hype him up when he does

+ He wants you to be his number one fan, basically

+ He can be cold and standoffish, but he appreciates when you take the effort to check in on him

NSFW

+ It's average sized down there. Don't tell him that. It's really big and really good. Repeat. Really big and really good.

+ He can't get it up so much as he's getting older. You'll need to help him without making it obvious that you're helping him

+ He needs to dominate most of the times and usually he'll use sex as a means of releasing his frustration. But sometimes, he does want to be a sub when he's really overwhelmed by work and needs a moment of not being in control

+ When he goes sub, he's LOUD. Full on moans that borderline squeals

All right, now that we've got Daigo out of the way, here comes my personal favourite -- Zaddy Jukai (who is actually a mommy but we'll call him zaddy anyway)

He makes a fine bear in the 2019 anime but all the other renditions do him dirty. I said it. Now let's move on.

+ You might love the beard or hate it. I hate it. He will consider trimming it for you

+ How the hell you managed to woo this man I'll have no idea and I'm just hoping you didn't promise some double-suicide with him or something

+ You will always be second to his late wife. He's not going to talk about her. She was murdered after he threw himself off a cliff. But you're second to her. Always

+ He will do literally everything and anything he can to take care of you -- and this is problematic because he's a workaholic who might work himself to d3ath someday

+ He pushes away affection because he thinks he's not deserving of love

+ You need to tread carefully and patiently to break down his walls, but once you do, they are broken forever

+ He loves and I mean LOVES physical touch, especially hugs

+ And of course, he loves forehead rubs

+ He will want to cuddle with you and hold you to the point that it might get annoying

+ You'll end up being his therapist, because when he opens up, he'll tell you about his past and he'll cry quite a bit. But he would do the same for you if you ever needed him to be your therapist

+ Your relationship will make him less depressed, and he would eventually want to pursue having a family with you

NSFW

+ Not huge, but bigger than Daigo

+ GIRTHY (is there anything about him that isn't?)

+ He's pretty vanilla, but has his mildly kinky moments when his needs for punishment/atonement are greater

+ Sub.

+ Aftercare king

We're moving a bit into younger territory. All right, I don't know his canon age, but he's got to be at least 18. Time for -- Hyogo who isn't old enough to be a Zaddy

I haven't got anything cheeky to say about him.

+ He's awkward

+ And even worse, you'll have to get through Mutsu to be able to date him. Come on, she's low-key scary and you know it

+ He's a big goofball. You two will bond over laughter

+ He'd prank you, but not in a mean way

+ He loves how he can let loose with you and push aside his responsibilities for a bit

+ It's not appropriate for him in his job to show affection openly. He's got that perfect stoic mask but sneaks in holding your hand or kissing you on the back of your head whenever possible

+ In private, he loves kisses the most

+ He also likes sharing food

+ He'll get you a lot of gifts, and he gets shy when he presents them to you.

NSFW

+ He's huge. Enough said.

+ Switches between sub and dom and is flexible to your needs and preferences

+ He's always up for trying something new -- new positions, new games, anything. If one of you don't like it, then you don't do it again next time

+ Because of this, you've got your safe words

+ He just wants to laugh and get amusement from his intimate time with you

+ He's LOUD and it's mostly laughter

+ He'd be the type to fall asleep not long after sex and start drooling or something. You've got to find that kind of thing cute.

[whiskeysmulti]

Let’s see… how to start with Fiore. When she first saw him, she did feel a bit intimidated and scared—but that can also be attributed to the fact that their first meeting, she was already being hassled by some goons so she was like ‘oh dear, just my luck. Another one.’ He did quickly prove her wrong though. He also was very quick to shoot lol, but given her father/brother, she’s not all that scared by guns as a concept? She was more impressed. Then knowing he has a bit of a gentleman-esque attitude to him, there is a feeling of being impressed and feeling secure when she looks at him.

Admittedly, she does feel a bit confused when he treats her nicely or is polite/gentlemanly towards her as she’s not all that used to it. (Lore context time hohoh) Fiore had a bit of a tomboyish streak when she was younger? A bit more wild and energetic. You may think that’s okay but for the time period, that certainly doesn’t bode well. So at some point, after some ladies had spoken ill about her, that’s when Fiore’s mother started becoming very strict with her. She can’t have a daughter be the reason she gets looked down upon by other ladies in the social circle. Still, some old impressions are hard to forget, so many people still associate Fiore with how she was when she was younger.

It doesn’t help that her temper does tend to leak when she’s around her brother or around people who have known her since forever. So, a lot of the guys who grew up around her, a lot of them don’t really treat her like they would your average lady. They kinda bring up her past as a way to upset her because it’s funny to them to see what they can do to make her façade crack. They make it into a game of sorts. Also talked about the whole thing with the military, and so some of the guys there treat her like thirsty wolves if her father isn’t around. In other words, she’s not used to being treated decently. Sadge.

All this to say, when she sees him, she does feel a bit of confusion as well as gratitude. He treats her like a regular person ought to be treated and so she feels comfortable around him. So this brings about a thought that he’s just a really nice person, despite how he looks. So, she has the image of him being a kind person who isn’t afraid to just assert a strong foot if needed. She hasn’t yet clued into the fact that he likes her. Due to the fact that she feels that she herself is lacking, she doesn’t think he’d like her romantically. She often is in trouble when they meet, so it’s more likely (in her mind) that he lowkey feels annoyed by her.

So, there is a bit of insecurity and anxiety she feels when she sees him because she thinks lowly about herself. That said, why does she continue to meet with him anyways? It’s probably due to the fact that he’s nice to her and has been patient with her up until now, so she also feels hope that maybe he would find her okay to be with. I hurt myself with this. ((OOC: I uh… failed to keep it UNDER 12, but I managed to STOP at 12? That sound count for something))

Describe how your Muse feels when they look at my Muse.- no longer accepting!

.Whiskey. 'Just my luck, another one.' lmfao! But you did bring up some valid points. Looking at the time frame, there were societal norms to adhere to and neither of them fit the bill. Fiore being deemed unladylike and a bad choice for a wife, G was probably considered your standard hoodlum at the time as well. But they both have that layer underneath that they see in each other, G seeing a potential wife in Fiore and Fiore realizing in spite of his looks and roughness he's still a gentleman with her and nothing like actual hoodlums she's put up with.

Lol I recall us talking about that though that Fiore might not get the hint that he likes her and is thinking something akin to "oh G's a really nice guy." just for Asari or Giotto or someone else in the family to be like "Him? Nice? Are we talking about the same guy?" Which is a wonderful way to find out all the potential shit your new bf has possibly done and not told you, but also plays up the fact that no matter how much you think you know a guy, you don't know him like his boys do.

And yes, they both have their own insecurity I think and I feel like that's something they can help each other heal from. Just constant reassurance that this is their own choice, to hell with what their families wanted for them, because considering my headcanons for G I feel like he's estranged from his family possibly for his own reasons, or another route I thought of taking with it to bounce off the fact that Fiore at first feared they might be hostile to military forces as well as the cops, what if G had a military background in his family too. Like what if he came from an Army family and his dad had all this ambition of turning him into a soldier and it failed? How do you think that would work with her?

[bamadillert]

You Never Change It

Words: 1.3k

Characters: (S/I) & Bill Baker; Junior Jackson (mentioned)

Description: Bill Baker talks to the coach’s wife about his concerns over his friend, Junior.

Author’s Note: Hi, I’m very (Brooklyn accent) nervous about posting because I’ve never posted fic on Tumblr before. And when I write somewhat serious situations about comic characters, I feel silly because it might not fit in their world or their voices. But the movie is played more straight than most of the others, so maybe it would fit (tonally)? Haha I don’t know… Anyways.

—

Mrs. Wheeler liked Bill Baker, at least more than most of the rest of the rotating troupe of chimpanzees her husband affectionately referred to as “the boys”, as if they were his own sons. Baker was a lovely young man, not boyish at all, good-looking and self assured in a way that most 18 year olds were not. His perfect “Yes ma’am”s and gentlemanly virtues were suggestive of a much more sophisticated upbringing than his drawl gave away, and he didn’t even look anything like a ball player, he looked like a dancer.

“That kid’s gonna be a star.” Mr. Wheeler liked him too.

Mrs. Wheeler placed her cross-stitch in her lap and squinted against the sun. “Yes, he’s very gifted.” Run back, run forth, run back, run forth. What unfortunate hats they had to wear.

The boy came-a trottin’ over to the bleachers when the hour’s practice was up, nix absurd headgear and curls wild, thank goodness. “Well, hi there, Mrs. Wheeler.”

“Why, hello, Mr. Baker.”

“Mrs. Wheeler,” he looked uncharacteristically nervous, but his nervous was the average man’s cool. He clasped his hands behind his back, must’ve realized it wasn’t polite in front of an older lady, and then dropped them to his side. “I was wonderin’, this is sort of a tall ask I s’pose, ‘n’ maybe there’s not much you can do about it, but- Well, you know Junior, don’t you?”

She nodded. The miserably ineffectual skinny one with the inch thick Harold Lloyd glasses. He had dinner at her home once or twice before the fall semester started, on account of Jumping Jack Jackson and her husband being classmates, naturally, and his great generosity to the school, naturally. That was an unfair description— he was delicate, his small voice carrying a sort of girly lilt, and whose affection for reading books about farm animals went snubbed by his father. Clumsy and socially inept, yes, but with a certain freedom and spiritedness behind his gangling movements. Mrs. Wheeler appreciated and took pity on little things like that, she imagined what great artists and intellectuals might’ve been called sissies today. “Yes, I do.”

“Then you know he’s kinda…” Bill made a vague, swooping gesture with his hand.

She tilted her head slightly and pursed her lips.

“He’s unique.”

“Indeed.”

“Well, I was wonderin’, maybe you could put in a good word and get Coach to stop leanin' on him so much. Let him play a little bit, you know? He’s a good kid, he really wants to play ball.” There was genuineness in his appeal— there was only one obvious reason all 125 pounds of Junior were still allowed on the team, but Bill had a real softness in his voice.

“Mr. Baker, why don’t you sit down?”

“Oh, please none of that Mister stuff for me, ma’am. And I’d rather stand.”

“Then none of that ‘ma’am’ for me either, I feel like an old maid. Would you like to walk?”

“You’re sure no old maid.” His eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief before he realized what he said and his cheeks went a dollish shade of pink. He coughed. “I’ll take that walk.”

They walked along the outside field until they came to the back which was flanked by a few thin rows of trees, a deceptively private seeming area where one could pretend to hear the bluebirds sing in winter.

“Bill, Junior’s not terribly strange, only a little different, but I’m sure you can understand that.”

“Yes, but,” He was staring off. “I don't know why he can’t have a little more… Gee, he won’t even sleep with the window open. He could stand being a little more of a guy. I’m just worried about him. I don’t know anything he can do on his own, I mean, his old man told me to look after him and—“ Bill caught himself and faltered.

“Junior’s father?”

He tugged on his earlobe. “I just mean that we were in school together, see. Junior was a bit of a famous character, unfortunately, on account of his Junior-ness and all, and… Everyone knew he was different. Maybe ‘cause we all knew his dad too, that wasn’t fair to him. But Junior,” he paced around the words. “See, we used to go with the same girl—“

“The same girl?” Mrs. Wheeler was taken a little aback. That two, polite boys-!

“Not anything like that, Mrs. Wheeler! Oh, never. I was afterwards, see.”

“Oh.”

“And when I went with this girl, everyone knew she was the loveliest thing around. All the fellas were jealous of me.” Mrs. Wheeler couldn’t help but notice how his chest puffed out a bit at that. “But this girl, most beautiful girl in school, tells me when she was with Junior, he never even tried to… You know.”

“I see.”

“And his old man figured I was going to Ridgefield and told me to look out for him, since I was…”

“A real tough fella?”

“Well,” Bill smiled and looked at his feet. “I don’t know about that.”

“It’s alright, Bill,” Mrs. Wheeler turned her back towards him. “I think you’re a more than decent guy. It’s nice of you to take care of your friend. You see, Bill… I like Junior. I think he’s a wonderfully bright young man—“

“Oh, I do too, ma’am.”

“Yes, but he suffers so, from all the big men around him like his father.” She tilted her head in his direction. “And you.”

“Me? Why, Junior doesn’t care what I think. I’m nothing like his dad.”

“But he does, terribly, Bill. He likes you very much, you see,” her voice was soft around the edges.

“I like him too.”

“I know your heart is in the right place, but—“

“Mrs. Wheeler, I’m sorry, but I’m afraid you don’t understand. There are certain things I just can’t explain to you. Me ‘n’ Junior, we shouldn’t even be friends, but we have to be because… Well, because. But I like him. I always have. I don’t know if he ever knew it, but I thought he was a real clever kid. He could dance and act in plays and name butterflies. So I’m not trying to make him feel hurt. I want him to be a stand-up fella, and that don’t mean being like me, but— well, people think things about him, his dad thinks a certain way,” he spoke more and faster than he ever did before, and Mrs. Wheeler listened. “And see, what does it look like when I— Don’t think I’m vain, Mrs. Wheeler, but I was kind of a big thing in high school. It was the first time people didn’t think I was funny for singing songs, ‘cause I was a varsity ace. I worked real hard to play here and be who I am, and not some fella who walks funny and sings for coins on a corner. And I can’t mess that up on account of Junior Jackson. I can’t.”

“You know his being different doesn’t hurt anyone. He doesn’t make you any less of a man, nothing would. Not even you. It’s not Junior who has to change,” she said, but it sounded with little conviction.

“Maybe not, but the world’s always gonna be the same.”

“And so will you. I think I understand now.”

Bill’s eyes shone ever so slightly in the dimming autumn sun, making them look heavy and sorrowful. “Do you really think so?”

“I do.”

[therecordchanger62279]

A FAIR TO REMEMBER

The third, and final installment of my book fair adventures.

     ‘Fess up. You did a double take when you saw that title, didn’t you? You thought, “Wow, he finally got some sex into his blog!” Sorry to disappoint you, but the title refers to the day’s activity. This weekend was the annual Dayton Book Fair at the Fairgrounds. It’s the one day of the year my wife lets me leave the house without a chaperone. Fortunately, it was worth the nearly three extra hours on my feet today. (I worked a full shift before hitting the fair this afternoon.)

     The weather was lovely today, if a bit windy at times. I arrived about 1:30, and found a parking spot not far from the entrance. When I got inside, I saw a lot of open floor space. I guess everyone was home trying to find the Ohio State game on television. (They were on a bye this week, so most of those people probably spent the afternoon getting liquored up – which is what they would’ve done anyway if there had been a game – but I digress.) The layout was different again this year, and I left my book fair GPS in the car so I had to make my way around “The Coliseum” (a fancy name for an old gymnasium) on my own. They’d moved the collectibles section to the front, and most of my favorite tables were not where I remembered them - although the hot dog stand was in the same spot, and that’s the important thing.

     The first friendly sign I saw read Poetry, and I suspected Short Stories would be close by. I was correct. But the only book I bought at that table was a collection edited by somebody named Milton Crane. Titled 50 Great Short Stories, and originally published in 1952, the paperback edition I found for $1.10, was the 16th printing from 1962, and featured names like Hemingway, Poe, Faulkner, Joyce, Thurber, Chekov, Forster, Salinger, Wolfe, Conrad, McCullers, Huxley, Steinbeck, and…well, you get the idea. I like a good short story, and since I’ve begun writing them, I get ideas how to make mine better from reading the masters. (If you’re going to steal, steal from the best.)

     It looked as if all my other favorite book haunts were on the other side of the gym, so I ambled over to the boxes of records spread over about eight tables. There were almost as many people browsing the records as there were browsing the multitude of book tables. Clearly this was a hipper, less bookish crowd than I was use to seeing at the fair. Needless to say, I fit right in.

     I cozied up to a pair of honeys browsing the rock records and chatting to one another about what they were finding. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that there are women out there who collect records instead of different shades of lipstick. One of them was complaining to the other that her mother had actually given away her own record collection. She couldn’t believe it. She found a Supremes collection she was interested in, but the cover was torn. Still, she had a look telling her friend that she could live with that as long as the record was in good shape. He pal agreed, telling her she needed to be careful so she didn’t ruin her stylus.

     Since they were lingering in the rock section, I moved over to jazz for a look. (If one of them had made a move to jazz, I might have been tempted to solicit her, but chicks don’t dig jazz as a general rule. So I remained on my best gentlemanly behavior.) By the time I finished browsing just two boxes of jazz records, I feared for my wallet. I found Arthur Blythe’s da-da LP, The Griffith Park Collection featuring several members of Return To Forever, along with the greats Joe Henderson, and Freddie Hubbard. Ralph Towner & Gary Burton’s Slide Show on ECM was in mint condition. I found a pair of LP’s on A&M Horizon – one by the great Chet Baker (You Can’t Go Home Again), and the other by Mel Lewis and Friends. Mel has some cool friends – bassist Ron Carter, pianist Hank Jones, Michael Brecker on sax, Freddie Hubbard (again) on trumpet, and more. The Best of Bobbi Humphrey on Columbia also caught my eye because I’ve been listening to a lot of light jazz from the late 70’s recently, and flutist Bobbi hit her commercial peak then. I also found Wynton Marsalis’s Think Of One – one I didn’t have from 1983. But as thrilled as I was with all of these, the most exciting finds turned out to be a Joe Zawinul collection on Atlantic titled Concerto Retitled, a set I had never seen or heard of before that turned out to be an overview of his Atlantic recordings prior to founding Weather Report, and an Impulse album from 1974 called Impulse Artists On Tour that features Gato Barbieri, Keith Jarrett, John Klemmer, Michael White, and Sam Rivers along with a who’s who of great backing musicians recorded at various shows. This was another album I’d never seen and didn’t know existed.

     Since the classical records were hosting several long hairs, I veered over towards the book tables on the other side, but not before I overheard an old couple talking. The wife (70, if she was a day) said to her husband, “Are you ready to go, baby?” And he replied, “You’re buying all those books? Didn’t you just get rid of a bunch of books?” Another woman standing next to me said, “He sounds like my husband.” And I patted myself on the back for being Mr. Tolerant in all things where my wife is concerned. (Cough!)

     I whiffed completely at the Sports table. I love a good baseball book, but there weren’t any today I didn’t already own. The People table (biographies, mostly) was also a bust, and it was beginning to look as if the records were going to be the last money I spent that didn’t target my stomach. But Philosophy, Plays, Classics, History and Government and Science yielded a Bertrand Russell’s Best, Camus’s Caligula and 3 Other Plays, Chekov’s The Major Plays, Dostoyevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov, Richard Feynman’s Surely You’re Joking Mr. Feynman, Norman Mailer’s The Presidential Papers (about the Kennedy administration), Situations by Jean Paul Sartre, and Walter Kauffman’s Existentialism from Dostoyevsky to Sartre. (You can always find plenty of books on existentialism at book fairs because existentialists are usually miserable, and end up committing suicide. Their families donate their books to book fairs. It’s a fact. You could look it up.)

     By this time, my arms were drooping, and my knuckles dragging on the floor as if I was a member of the Bush administration. So I decided to pay the piper, and take my treasures to the car, then double back for a farewell tour around the gym one more time.

     Next time around, following my traditional can of Pepsi, and hot dog with mustard and onion from the food vendor, I visited all the fiction tables looking for books by a favorite author of my wife. I found none, thus vindicating my wife’s choice not to attend the book fair with me. I also looked through the record boxes that had been inaccessible to me earlier. (By now, the sparse crowd was down to a trickle of die-hards.) Country yielded a couple of collections by Del Reeves whose old records are usually hard to find, and priced higher than a gallon of gas during a Middle East crisis. A section at the end of classical labeled ?????, had in it a blaxploitation soundtrack by Booker T. & The MG’s on Stax called Up Tight. Regular readers of this blog know of my affection for soul music and for blaxploitation films. (Clearly the book fair staff does not have anyone who knows anything about music because they also didn’t know where to file records by Jody Watley or Mike Oldfield (yes, it was Tubular Bells). These and many more familiar artists were in that section under the heading ?????.

     My last stop was the Comedy box where I found a Mort Sahl album On Relationships. I never knew Sahl to do anything but political humor, so I decided to pick it up. Of course, one could argue that all relationships are political in nature. In any case, Sahl was one of those comics whose humor was aimed at intellectuals. As there’s little, if any, of that kind of humor around today, I thought it might be a good listen.

     So the take turned out to be 9 books, and 13 records. Adding the three bucks for the Pepsi and hot dog, my wallet was all of 29 dollars lighter. You might be able to beat that, but I doubt it.

     I promised the wife I’d pick up some fast food and bring it home – before the government sucks all that tasty trans fat out of it. I got in line at the McDonald’s drive thru behind a Honda van sporting a pair of bumper stickers, the first of which read, “Jesus Is The Answer” while the second chimed in with “God Rules – Always Has, Always Will”. I had a lot of time to memorize more than the bumper stickers because this vanload of morons couldn’t decide what they wanted to eat. I came very close to getting out of my car and going up to them and telling them that if they didn’t make up their mind and place their order within the next 10 seconds, they were going to be seeing Jesus a lot sooner than they’d planned.

     So, the 2013 fair was a good one. Next year, though, we’ll just order a pizza when I get home.

©2013

[sweetmusingss]

Oscar was blushing at your comment about how you were sick so he wouldn’t be able to have a home run with you. Deep down, he knew it would never happen anyways but even the thought of it had his heart racing. He followed you into his room, trying to be a gentleman but his gaze naturally landed on your ass. He swallowed hard before slipping off his shoes and grabbing some fresh clothes to change into. “Make yourself comfortable, Nay. And you should know me well enough to know that I don’t bring a girl home on the first date. She would have to be really special to me for that to happen,” he says, staring at you longingly as you didn’t even notice. He took his clothes to the bathroom with him before changing into a fresh t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, knowing he couldn’t sleep in anything less without this situation feeling even more risky. He knew nothing could happen between the two of you but the extra clothes helped him feel some more self-control while you didn’t have any pants on. He returned back to the bedroom before crawling into bed beside you and covering the two of you up.

Oscar was so sweet and gentlemanly. He didn’t fit in with this group at all. Lando barely remembered the names of the girls he brought home, Pierre and Katie had started out as a casual fling that turned into a marriage proposal, and I was constantly on and off with my not-boyfriend who enjoyed sleeping with anyone who looked at him. Oscar was so different and I did not understand how he wasn’t in a long term relationship... any girl would be so lucky to have him. I scoot close when he climbed into bed, immediately burying my nose against his chest, it not being abnormal for us to cuddle like this. I honestly enjoyed sleeping next to him than I did sleeping with Charles most of the time. “How do you know someone isn’t special enough to bring home though if you don’t try? That girl could be your future wife, and you’re sleeping in bed with me while she’s off in her own bed.” I rest my hand on his stomach, never lingering too much on how this was how couples slept, not best friends. Even when I slept with Lando, we’d spoon sometimes - usually drunkenly - but we’d always make sure we had our own sides of the bed... I never did that with Oscar.

__

“I do really love ice cream so this is shocking to me to say but sex with you is even better than ice cream. I didn’t even know that sex could be that good until you,” I admit, a slight flush to my cheeks. I felt so connected to you on every level and our physical chemistry was off the charts. I knew I was a hopeless romantic but it was starting to feel like you were made perfectly for me. I cuddle close to you, wrapping my arms around you as I nuzzled into your side. I had learned in the last few days that you were a cuddler too and I loved it. “I will have you know that I have never been this horny in my life,” I giggle softly.

Seb faked shock expression, “I am not better than ice cream. Nothing is better than ice cream. You can live without sex, but you cannot live without ice cream.” Seb smirks as he teases you, leaning up and pecking your lips. He nuzzled his nose into your hair, holding you close, running his fingers up and down your soft skin where his hand rested. “Honestly, me either. I’ve never had this much sex in such a short amount of time... I just don’t feel sated. Usually I’m a one and done kind of guy, if you know what I mean, but with you... I could 2 or 3 more times.”

[dnangelic]

okay, i'll further break it down.

< calling him daisuke: the same way daisuke doesn't think himself ever capable of being 'reliable' and 'cool' like dark, dark doesn't think himself ever capable of daisuke's firm kindness and compassion. dark, without the influence of daisuke's heart and character, is extremely callous and low empathy. he is, frankly, a nasty and merciless asshole. but a defining trait of his is that he perpetually still wishes he was kind. he wishes he was someone warm. what he wants is coexistence not just with humanity as a whole and at large but intimately with daisuke, so to be called daisuke, especially in circumstances where he's simply being kind and even if it's a mistaken case, makes him extremely happy. daisuke's immediate family (emiko, daiki,) all already intrinsically recognize and refer to dark as daisuke and daisuke as dark interchangeably; there's no greater nest of comfort to him, likewise.

< calling him childish: dark is supposed to be around 16 and yet he doesn't really ever get to be. he is the 'responsible' one, and so his burdens, many of them both self-imposed and thankless, are similarly carried all by himself. at his very center he's avoidant, depressed, and self-loathing, so acting carefreely, experiencing some sort of fun and then even having it actively pointed it out makes him happy. the sort of person he wants to be is simultaneously someone who can put others around him at ease and who likewise can recognize him (and also not him, but the original niwa he tries to emulate and embody,) as a fun-lover, even if his character ends up mischievous. if he's behaving childishly, it's because he's comfortable; it might even be on purpose, but either way, it frees him at least briefly from any sense of obligation; he can never behave too childishly (a la getting too excited around non-intimates) or he'll transform anyways.

< calling him a woman: look he gets it. he (generally) looks masc, sounds masc, his choice of pronoun is nigh strictly ore or ore-sama, his personality is 'way too strong and independent' (😒) to be a woman's. this doesn't change the fact he's still x or bigender, and that previous, even female niwa could or maybe even HAVE disguised themselves as him to commit heists. in general, as part of the kaitō shtick dark can't help but play a role, and in most cases he tries to fit himself into one of a gentlemanly thief; it's in the job description, it's the easiest facade. outside of it, he'd love a break. he'd love for someone to open the door for him and tell him ladies first for once. he'd love for someone to kiss his hand and carry HIM around for once. he loves to be both a daughter and son, a wife and husband, he too dreams of sparkling knights and being saved, brought to a better place. but he also 'knows' that none of this is ever going to happen for him, because the same way daisuke's role is inevitably of the village girl, the fairytale heroine and princess, so is dark the curse, the beast, the dragon and wicked sorceress. he can't and doesn't expect acceptance or kindness or understanding. but if it comes to him nevertheless, then he's also extremely happy.

dark euphoria is still so funny sometimes