#but have you considered that I’m having fun and playing

[queenjunothegreat]

Hello, everyone, I am BACK with something incredibly stupid. And this one is actually a collaboration! @ihavetoomany-fandoms invoked my name, @demigod-shenanigans picked the prompt, @damstaplereater decided on POV, @manygeese named Jason's lacrosse buddies, @imliterallyinsanern decided on the monster, and @apollo-is-somthing chose how Jason got detention! Fun games all around, thank you all for playing (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ EDIT! Fic added under the cut for all the Tumblr readers out there <3

ANYWAY, here's another post-FsH Edgarton Valgrace fic: Yes Leo Time

“Do either of you know how to get a week’s worth of detention, fast?” Jason blurted. It was an embarrassing question to have to ask, but he was desperate and willing to get his help from anywhere at this point. Keith and David exchanged a puzzled look, before turning back to Jason. “Uh, yeah, probably,” David said slowly. “Why?” “Leo got detention,” Jason admitted. “I’ve been trying to get detention all afternoon, but I can’t figure it out.” “So that’s why you were just standing through Mr. Thomason’s lecture,” Keith laughed brightly. Jason groaned and hid his face in his arms again. “Guys, please. I’m running out of time. If I don’t get detention now, I won’t get it today.” “And why do you want detention again?” “Because Leo has detention,” Jason repeated like it should have been very obvious, which, to be clear, it was. “Your boyfriend got detention, so you’re getting detention, too, so you can hang out with him?” David asked, chin resting in his palm and eyes shining in mirth. “Gotta say, you’ve got weird taste in dates, Grace.” *** Jason gets detention

So, yeah, I’m gonna have after class detention for, like, a week. Leo had said the words so casually when he’d met up with Jason for their usual morning break, not realizing he was ruining Jason’s whole day. Really and truly, Jason shouldn’t have been surprised. He knew that Leo was by no means a teacher’s pet. He’d heard plenty of stories from him and Piper both about the nonsense the two of them had gotten up to at Wilderness, as well as them swapping tales of all their misdemeanors from before meeting. Piper was the self-dubbed “scourge of the LA private school system” and Leo seemed like his default state was getting into some sort of trouble. He’d even heard Piper complain over Iris Message about the punishments she’d been racking up at her school. Really and truly, it should have come as a shock that Leo hadn’t gotten detention before now.

But that was the thing. Leo hadn’t gotten detention. Not the whole four months that they’d been at Edgarton. Apparently, “fancy pants rich boy schools” are more than willing to kick out the brown kid on scholarship if he makes too much of a fuss, and Leo really didn’t want to get kicked out, a stance which made Jason feel a little fuzzy inside. So, Leo had been remarkably well-behaved, going to class and keeping his pranks to mild annoyances at worst, and Jason had assumed that they were basically home free.

What he’d forgotten to consider was the fact that Leo was an obstinate little bastard when he wanted to be. According to him, his Spanish teacher – a lady with blue eyes and bright red hair named Ms. Jones – had mistakenly corrected his pronunciation one too many times, and he’d decided that he’d simply not participate in her class. He still attended, so as not to get caught skipping, but he didn’t do any of the work she’d assigned him, and rattled off random bouts of Ancient Greek any time she tried to talk to him. Jason couldn’t really find fault in Leo’s actions (he’d nearly bitten off his classmate’s finger when he’d tried telling Jason he was conjugating his Latin wrong) but he wasn’t really fond of the results. He didn’t particularly like the fact that Leo was now going to be spending an extra hour and a half sitting in a classroom every day for a week. 

So, Jason had come up with a foolproof plan: get detention himself. Sure, he could just as well do, well, not that, but that would mean a whole seven and a half hours of No Leo Time, which would cut into his already limited Yes Leo Time, considering they only shared two classes. And what was Jason supposed to do while Leo was in detention? Sit around the dorm and just wait for Leo to come back? No! Jason was a Roman, a warrior. He wasn’t going to just sit there and twiddle his thumbs and wait for Leo, not when he could go out and face the threat head-on at Leo’s side! No, the only option he had was to get detention just like Leo.

The only problem was he… didn’t know how to do that.

Unfortunately, to match his best friends’ delinquent status, Jason was the most comically straight-laced student Edgarton had seen in a very long time, possibly ever. He didn’t follow the rules blindly (he had killed his math teacher a month before, after finding out she was an empousai, after all, and he was pretty sure that was against the rules) but he liked discipline and order. The rules of Edgarton were simple and reasonable, and Jason understood the benefit of most of them and the ones he didn’t love weren’t exactly a hardship. It was almost second nature for Jason to just… follow the rules laid out before him. He was so good at it, in fact that all of his teachers seemingly didn’t think he was capable at breaking the rules at all, which made getting detention very difficult.

Tried talking in class? The boy next to him was given two warnings before Jason shut up.

Tried breaking something? Oh, that globe really was in an inconvenient spot. It was bound to get knocked over some day. 

He’d even tried just standing in the middle of the room, completely stone faced and silent instead of going to his seat and his teacher had applauded him for his daring performance art. Granted, he probably should have tried that in a class other than Theater, but it had been his last class of the day and he’d run out of ideas. 

Now, things were really down to the wire. Jason was sitting in his homeroom class with only five minutes left before the final bell dismissed him and he would be sent back to his lonely dorm room sans boyfriend, and he had no idea what to do about it.

“Woah, Jay, you good, man?”

Jason looked up from where he’d had his head buried in his arms, wallowing in defeat to see Keith and David watching him with concerned looks. He liked Keith and David. They were on the lacrosse team with him, and they always made an effort to rope him into team stuff when he was awkwardly hovering on the fringes, unsure of what to do with himself. They were also pretty understanding and also had lots of experience being a teenager, which Jason admittedly lacked.

“Do either of you know how to get a week’s worth of detention, fast?” Jason blurted. It was an embarrassing question to have to ask, but he was desperate and willing to get his help from anywhere at this point.

Keith and David exchanged a puzzled look, before turning back to Jason. “Uh, yeah, probably,” David said slowly. “Why?”

“Leo got detention,” Jason admitted. “I’ve been trying to get detention all afternoon, but I can’t figure it out.”

“So that’s why you were just standing through Mr. Thomason’s lecture,” Keith laughed brightly.

Jason groaned and hid his face in his arms again. “Guys, please. I’m running out of time. If I don’t get detention now, I won’t get it today.”

“And why do you want detention again?”

“Because Leo has detention,” Jason repeated like it should have been very obvious, which, to be clear, it was.

“Your boyfriend got detention, so you’re getting detention, too, so you can hang out with him?” David asked, chin resting in his palm and eyes shining in mirth. “Gotta say, you’ve got weird taste in dates, Grace.”

“Guys! Come on!”

“Well, I mean, there is one option,” Keith said slowly. “But Coach isn’t gonna be happy with you.”

“Keith, what do–”

“I’ll do it,” Jason said immediately, glancing at the clock. Time was running short. “Just tell me what it is.”

“Jay, man, no! Don’t do this,” David protested. “Keith, what the hell?”

“He just looks so sad!” Keith argued. “I can’t just sit here.”

David rolled his eyes, but sat back. “Fine. Whatever, man. Do what you gotta.”

Keith turned back to Jason with a beaming smile. “Alright then. Punch me in the face.”

Without a second thought, Jason reared back and decked him.

*-*-*

Leo hated detention. He’d never loved detention, seeing as sitting in a boring room for an hour and a half should have been considered cruel and unusual punishment for someone like him, but since coming to Edgarton, he’d been very careful to avoid getting written up or anything like that. Partially because he was genuinely worried about getting kicked out if he became more of an effort than his (quite frankly, amazing) test scores were worth, but mostly because he had much better things to do now. Why the hell would he want to spend a second longer than he had to in a classroom when he could, instead, be swapping spit with his hot boyfriend? He wouldn’t. Obviously. He wouldn’t go so far as to say he regretted antagonizing Ms. Jones for the  better half of a week, but he did sort of wish he could have managed to land himself with lunch detention instead. Or better yet, detention instead of her class. It wasn’t like he needed her to teach him Spanish. He could ace her stupid quizzes in his sleep and pronounce everything correctly to boot.

But no. Ms. Jones was too fucking crafty for him, and she’d assigned him after school detention. He wondered if she knew that she was keeping him from making out with Jason. If she did, would that count as homophobia? He’d believe that Ms. Jones was homophobic. She had that air about her. Then again, even if she was, Leo doubted that “she gave me the wrong kind of detention so I couldn’t kiss my boyfriend” would really hold up in any sort of court. Damn her. Outmaneuvered him again. 

“Mr. Grace? What are you doing here?”

Leo whipped his head around to see Jason standing in the doorway, flushed cherry red and holding a sheet of paper, which he awkwardly handed over to Mrs. Warren. “I, um, have detention?”

Mrs. Warren looked down at the sheet, which Leo could now only assume was a detention slip, then back up at Jason, looking at him like he’d grown a second head. “Seems you do. Well, go on then. Take a seat.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Jason did that weird little twitch he did when he was smothering the reflex to salute and shuffled over to sit next to Leo. Mrs. Warren watched them with an arched eyebrow, but said nothing and went back to her cross stitch. Leo was glad Mrs. Warren was running detention. Mrs Warren was cool. And probably not homophobic, unlike Ms. Jones.

“So,” Leo drawled, cupping his chin and leveling Jason with a playful smirk. “How’d a guy like you wind up in a place like this, hm? Say ‘yes, sir’ one too many times or something?”

“Uh, no,” Jason said. He was refusing to look at Leo, which Leo didn’t mind because it meant he got to just stare at Jason and see the adorable flush deepening on his cheeks. “I, um, got in a fight.”

Leo’s eyebrows shot up and his face split open in a grin. “Ooh, a fight? I had no idea I was dating a bad boy.” Then his face puckered in concern. “Wait, why were you fighting? Was it a monster or–”

“I– Well, no,” Jason admitted. “And it wasn’t… really a fight. I just punched Keith once.”

“You punched Keith? I thought you liked Keith.”

“I do!” he insisted. “He told me to punch him!”

Leo squinted at Jason, who was still refusing to look at him, much like a dog sitting next to a mess they were desperately pretending they didn’t make. “And why did Keith tell you to punch him?”

“He said that was the fastest way to get detention?”

“And why did Keith want to get you in detention?” Jason mumbled something Leo couldn’t hear, so he made a show of cleaning out his ear and cupping his hand to it. “Run that by me one more time, compadre?” 

“I didn’t want you to be in detention by yourself?” Jason repeated. “I was worried Mrs. Warren was a… water nymph.”

“Uh-huh,” Leo grinned, cupping his chin in his hand. “And here I thought the nymphs were the good guys. My hero.”

“Nymphs aren’t always good,” Jason said seriously. “Back in Rome, some tried to drown me and Piper. And Percy.”

“Right, right. So, this is strictly a recon mission, it doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that you’d be stuck boyfriendless?”

Jason finally turned to him, his face puffed up in what was probably supposed to be a scowl, but definitely came out as a pout. “I would have missed you.”

Leo felt his heart leap in his chest and his cheeks get warm as his grin turned more than a little besotted. He knew Jason cared about him. Like, to an almost embarrassing degree. He knew factually that he was Jason’s favorite person on the planet, but the thought that Jason – Mr. Perfect Pants himself – would stage a fight just to spend time with him made him giddier than a school girl. Without thinking, he grabbed Jason by the face and pulled him down for a kiss, brushing his thumbs over his wonderful boyfriend’s delightfully warm cheeks. Jason made a sharp startled sound for only a moment before he melted into the kiss, his hands coming up to hold onto Leo’s wrists like a lifeline. 

“Mr. Valdez, Mr. Grace, please refrain from public displays of affection in the classroom,” Mrs. Warren called lazily. “Feel free to do so in your own time, but wait until you are released.”

Leo pulled away from Jason and gave her a salute that was so sloppy it probably made a little piece of Jason’s soul die. “You got it, teach.” He turned back to Jason and very matter-of-factly said, “I’m like ninety-seven point six percent sure I’m in love with you.”

Jason just sat there and blinked stars out of his eyes, cheeks flushed and his lips curled up in an almost drunken smile. “Cool. I should get detention more often.”

Leo laughed brightly, loud enough that any teacher other than Mrs. Warren would have yelled at him, and grabbed Jason’s hand. He scooted over so their chairs were right next to one another and rested his head on Jason’s shoulder. Jason squeezed his hand and pressed a kiss to his hair, and Leo felt his heart melt just that little bit more. He shut his eyes and hummed softly, content to just listen to Jason breathe. 

Maybe he should get detention more often, too. 

[gooobraghhh]

hi,

my bestfriend is transmasc and we are both wanting to incorporate more of me forcemascing it into our kink (especially since ze is getting on T soon and I'm gonna be giving him the shots, but it is also something we both want more of more generally). I don't have much (if any) real experience with forcemascing. I was wondering if you had any advice for someone who is a complete beginner to that form of play or if you knew of any good blogs/zines/etc that i could look at to try and gain more of a knowledge base.

Thank you so much,

A transfemme trying to give its Bestfriend a good time

Well here’s what I’ll say, I’m not the most proficient with forcemasc in the more traditional way of the recipient is at least partially against being turned more masc but I am very good at just gender validating sex with trans men. It’s usually not too hard. Main thing is obvious but just treat him like a man. If he’s showing bodily arousal, even if he can’t get actual boners yet, make comments about how hard he is or how he’s just leaking precum if you wanna describe getting wet in a manly way. Allow him to be in manly positions for sex, get on top, grind against his lap, it can be dominant or submissive but just try out more masc sex positions. I mean the other night I was riding a guy and with a knife to his throat threatening to baby trap him, being in more feminine recieving positions can still be very dominant and gender affirming for both parties.

When men are in the sub role it’s usually more considered and treated more humiliating and degrading because it goes against gender roles. Things are also usually expected to be more rough and physical with men in the submissive role because physicality is very attached to man hood. Get a little rough, acknowledge his strength, make fun of him for how pathetic he’s being and how he’s a man, isn’t he supposed to be the one fucking you? Even though your calling attention to him not being traditional man acting it’s distinctly in way you’d only be mean to someone you see as a dude.

Letting trans dudes sub top is usually pretty good for gender validation. Ride him or pull a leash while he fucks you maybe with some toy in him or something. Just keep the power but let him fill the top role since it’s the man role typically. If he’s up for it most guys find anal pretty gender validating. He might like it more after being on t and having prostate cells grow in but experimenting with that can be a lot of fun. There’s also just a lot of you can say to make fun of man for taking up the ass.

There’s probably way more I’m forgetting but here’s just some examples that came to mind. Also I’m aware your friend is non-binary and not like just a dude but it was easier to write and you can lean into a more strict gender role in the name of force masc’ing him. Hope this helps a bit <3

[neoyorzapoteca]

It was not that Elaine resented work. She was conscientious, punctual, and responsible, but she was an artist first, and the job kept her away from her real work just as she was beginning to find her direction. Bill had had an offer from Lever Brothers to do an ad campaign that would have paid handsomely. In declining the offer, Bill argued that if he did a good job on the ad, he would have no energy left for his paintings. Elaine believed she had the right to make a similar choice. “Male and female artists are not like the average person. They are people essentially who are rebellious. And women are just as rebellious as men,” Elaine said. “I know what I want, and [if] someone else wants me to do something different, I don’t consider that rebellion. I just want my way.” During that period, Elaine worked each day at her job with Ibram, painted when she could, and socialized as much as possible at night. She would leave Bill at his canvas, bundled up in his jacket and hat because the heat in the building was turned off in the evening, while she visited friends around Chelsea. Sometimes they drew from models, and sometimes they played. They might have concerts, using pots and pans for instruments. Edith recalled roasting marshmallows over the fireplace in her loft and playing parlor games, including a form of charades in which the person enacted poses from famous paintings. In one game, Elaine wore “a beret squished into the shape of a Phrygian cap… a broom held high in one hand, leading Rudy by the other. You were Marianne, the spirit of the French revolution in the painting by Delacroix, leading the French to Liberty.” On another night, composer Edgard Varèse, whom Elaine said “was very much taken with me,” took her on an ice cream “bender.” Their first stop was a gelato shop in the Village that Varèse told her had the best pistachio ice cream in the world. From there, the pair proceeded on a taste tour. “We went to five different ice cream parlors.… They were marvelous, all of them.” Elaine’s activities amounted to innocent fun. She had accepted a life of poverty, but she didn’t feel she had to wallow in it. Bill didn’t understand, however, and they began fighting often. As they did, the differences in their characters and expectations became clear. “At first, he did think that a woman was just, you know, her place was in the home,” Elaine said. “And that once I got married I should drop my brushes and drop my books and get into the kitchen.… And no way was I going to change character.” During one battle, Bill said to Elaine, “Well, if you think I’m so great, why didn’t you get a job and support me?” “I never asked you to get a job,” she said. “I want to paint just as much as you do, and I’m willing to starve along with you.” “I thought you’d give all that up when you married me,” he countered. “What gave you that idea? When you met me I was painting full-time. I had my own studio, and I was doing nothing but paint. You knew that when you married me.” “Well,” he said, “I thought you’d make a nice pillow.” “I thought you’d make a nice pillow,” Elaine retorted. That was the end of that particular argument, but it was repeated many times, though often with more humor. Once Bill accused Elaine of having “a very nice life for a young man.” He said they were “like two bachelors shacked up.… What we two need is a good wife.”

==========

Ninth Street Women : Lee Krasner, Elaine De Kooning, Grace Hartigan, Joan Mitchell, and Helen Frankenthaler: Five Painters and the Movement That Changed Modern Art (Mary Gabriel)

[flowersforthemachines]

a n y w a y. what if I wrote a snippet about that AU. what then.

1.3k words of Lucanis and Ghilasara arguing if she should follow him into a suicide mission, with a guest appearance from Neve. no game spоilers, can probably be read even if you haven't played it (if you are just willing to roll with the premise).

“You can still change your mind.”

He tries to pass Ghilasara a glass of wine, but she casts only a cursory glance at his hand before looking away, as if accepting the drink from him would mean she is agreeing. 

“Seriously?” She quirks her brow, almost condescendingly, like he’s a dog pestering her for a treat, and not a lover attempting to bring her to her senses. “Not this again, Lucanis. We’ve had this conversation too many times already.”

“Today is the last time we can have this conversation, as you are aware,” he says, trying to be amicable. The last time I can talk you out of throwing your life away. “Maybe, you can finally reconsider and stay here.”

The ribbon on her armband flutters as she crosses her arms. “If you know me at all,” she scoffs, “you’ll know I won’t change my mind. I’m coming with you. And that is final.” 

“Please.” 

Pleading is a low blow, always the last resort. They are both terribly susceptible to it, and aware that such words are not used lightly. For him to beg means every other option is exhausted, and not even demeaning means are too much for a chance to get what he wishes for. 

“Your life must not be tied to mine,” he tries again. “You can have your own, here — there is no need to follow me. It’s not your time, not yet.” 

Her eyes flicker to him, viscous, like he’s insulting her very being. 

“You place such great value on a life without you,” she speaks through gritted teeth. “But I don’t see it. One year with you means more than wasting away for another five years here in Lumière.” 

It wouldn’t be five years; if there was any mercy in the world — the idea that seemed less doubtful with each passing year — and he could devise a way to make her stay, she’d leave with the next year’s expedition should this one fail, he knows that for sure. After he's gone, there is no universe in which she waits until the final year of her life before attempting to turn it into a sacrifice. 

“It’s only one year if my expedition fails,” he argues. My expedition. A part of his mind still refuses to accept her as a part of it. “Do you have so little faith in me and the others? That there is no chance we could be coming back?”

“It’s not a question of faith. I simply consider the worst-case scenario. Our world seems to favour those.”

He has little to say to that. It has been sixty years of deaths with little to show for it — standing inside the Dome, they seem no closer to stopping the Paintress, any advancements made on the Continent outside it left only to imagination, secrets kept by all the expedition members that never returned. 

“And don’t lecture me on lack of faith,” she says. “If you believed in Expedition 37, you wouldn’t try so hard to make me stay away.”

 She snatches the wine from his hand and turns to walk away. 

“You can accept I’m coming and enjoy my presence,” she throws one final look at him, “or you can scowl, and frown, and get up in arms and waste the time we have. Your choice, love.” 

She disappears into the market stalls, merging with the crowd of other expeditioners he doesn’t dare join. How anyone can partake in light-hearted fun before setting out on a suicide mission is beyond him. 

“She steamrolled all over you, didn’t she?” Neve greets him with an elbow poked at his side and a delighted smirk. 

“She isn’t acting rational,” he mutters.

“We all caught on to that side of Rook when she started courting you.”

He rolls his eyes, reaching for more wine, the only part of the celebrations he is willing to indulge in. 

“She’s right, though,” Neve adds. “About lack of faith.”

“A cynic, chastising me for not believing in doomed ventures?” he sneers. “Maybe we are all already dead, and I am stuck in hell.”

“Oh, I’m not saying we will succeed,” she corrects herself. “But we can lay a path. For those who come after, and all that — you know the drill.”

“I wish we weren’t laying that path with our corpses.” I wish her corpse would never have to be a part of it. 

“Well,” Neve laughs, “you might as well try wishing the Gommage away. Think that’s gonna work?”

He sighs. Neve’s scepticism is a welcome reprieve from dealing with someone who considers logic an optional accessory to decision-making. He isn’t sure if Ghilasara’s choice to join their expedition involved anything outside wanting to be by his side, a level of devotion he finds frightening. 

And welcoming; a twisted part of his heart that knows that, were their roles reversed, he’d follow her just as vehemently, is aching with relief to know she will be there. 

“I should talk to her,” he says, like a ward against shying away and avoiding her for the rest of the evening. 

“Good.” Neve smiles. “I suggest settling all differences tonight. Nothing worse than relationship drama in the middle of a suicide mission.”

“I appreciate your practical approach.” 

“That’s what I’m here for,” she says. “And, it looks Rook had the same idea. I’ll leave you two to it — try not to get into a shouting match in the middle of the square, would you?” 

He notices Ghilasara’s figure flow out of the crowd and head towards them in rapid steps as Neve slips away after giving him a nod. He straightens his back, instinctively, like another fight could be coming; they didn’t exactly part on peaceful terms. She could be here only to reaffirm her stance, and hear none of his.

“Lucanis, I—”

“Ghilasara—”

They both cut off and look at each other, teeth clenched around the ends of their unfinished sentences. 

“You go first,” he offers. It will certainly be easier for him to speak if he knows her current disposition. 

“I…” Her breath hitches before she shakes her head and raises it to look him in the eye. “I’m coming with you. It’s non-negotiable.” 

“Alright.”

“Alright?” she asks, incredulous. “I expected you to put up more of a fight.”

“Would you like me to?”

“No…”

"I still don’t think that you should go," he says. “It’s likely a mistake. One that you’ll soon be too late to fix.”

“I said, I—”

“But,” he interrupts, “I see you’ve made up your mind. And I’m…”

He cuts off, the rest of that thought stuck unformed around a lump in his throat. Words never came to him easily — important words most of all.

She steps closer and reaches for his hand, intertwining their fingers, and he feels at ease, like she’s a key to the locks he tends to bind himself with. With another breath, the lump is gone, even if the words he has feel insufficient. 

“You what?” she asks softly. 

“I’m glad that you’ll be there. With me,” he finishes. “For however long it lasts.”

She squeezes his hand as her expression eases before slipping into a confident smirk.

“Enjoying my presence it is, then,” she says proudly. “I had hoped you’d make the right choice in the end. How lovely that you don’t disappoint.” 

“I try my best.”

“You are getting better at it,” she laughs. “Perhaps we should work on your lack of faith next. Tomorrow comes, Lucanis. We only lose it when we stop believing.”

Sometimes, it feels like he could believe anything as long as it came from her lips; instead of examining the feeling, he looks at her, the party lights dancing in her eyes as she smiles, the slow death of their world seeming infinitely far away. 

I don’t know about tomorrow, he thinks, but we have today. For now, it is enough. 

sometimes two brainrots can collide, and I want to say that Ghilasara would be a fan of suicide missions, so she would've felt right at home in the world of Clair Obscur

[wondermacaroni]

self-indulgent fantroll nonsense (sung to the tune of teenage mutant ninja turtles)

[thetriggeredhappy]

before pride month ends im gonna take this opportunity to say. if a transfem corrects you for using ‘dude’ or ‘man’ to refer to her, and you reply that ‘actually dude and man are gender neutral’, consider that she knows this. and she’s correcting you because she doesn’t want to be referred to as gender neutral. she wants to be referred to as a woman. and perhaps - really stew on this one - your reluctance to refer to her with traditionally feminine language, and even to incorporate and co-opt traditionally feminine language into your casual gender-neutral usages in everyday life, are indicative of an internal sexist bias. this is not necessarily in itself a condemnation of your character - but if you feel perfectly comfortable calling someone (regardless of gender) ‘bro’ but not ‘sis’, that’s worth a smidge of introspection.

[bright-and-burning]

girl who is sad :[

[nightmareonpeachstreet]

Auto-combat games with 15 different microquests that repeat over and over again for the rest of time making the game a never ending tutorial my beloathed

[biohazard-inevitable]

The plus side of being too busy to watch shows or get super deep into any games is that I’m so active that my only media consumption is audiobooks at work and at school so I can finally get in on all those funky book fandoms!!! :D

[yourqueenb]

I know PB wants the LI to actually seem potentially dangerous and questionable…. but considering the Charles I chose, all this is giving is the white suburban moms are suspicious and afraid of the man who lives down the street from them because he’s Black

[campingwithmonsters]

🌀HE’S GONNA GET’CHA!🌀

[boy-armageddon]

YES my username on yt is a blood bros reference :33 i need to go to crimes world again i know in my heart and soul that i love her but i seldom show her attention .. i need to care her more ..

HOOFRAY!!!! also pretty please do!!!!!!! for me!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[lyrebirdswrites]

I experience my worst gamer rage when I start playing a new game and the actions are mapped to different inputs than I’m used to and then I die twenty times because the dodge button is no longer a dodge button

[kaiist]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 ⋯ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐄𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

Xavier leans in and places a gentle kiss on your cheek, which you dramatically wipe off with the back of your hand. “Eww, Xavier! Cooties!”

Xavier stares at you blankly, though a slight tightening around his eyes betrays his feelings. After a moment of silence that lasts just long enough to become awkward, he tilts his head.

“Cooties... are not real,” he states matter-of-factly, then adds, “but if they were, you would already have them. We have kissed exactly forty-seven times in the past 3 days.”

His head tilts slightly as he studies your face with quiet intensity. “Did I... misinterpret something?” he asks slowly. Before you can respond, Xavier slowly leans in again, his eyes locked with yours in quiet challenge.

Just before his lips touch yours, he pauses. “Would you like number forty-eight?”

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

After a quick goodbye kiss, you dramatically wipe your lips and make a show of feigned disgust. Zayne freezes midway through the door.

“Gross, Zaynie! Do you know where those lips have been?” You start to regret pulling this prank on him when you see the hurt in his eyes masked by his still expression.

Zayne turns to face you fully. Without a word, he slowly walks back to you, his intense gaze never leaving yours. “Is that so?” he asks. “Let me remind you exactly where these lips belong, then.”

In one fluid motion, he cups your face with both hands and kisses you deeply, thoroughly, leaving no room for teasing. When he finally pulls away, there's a hint of smugness in his otherwise composed expression.

“Don’t wipe that one off. Please.” He straightens his tie with practiced ease before adding, “Doctor’s orders.”

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

Rafayel plants a playful kiss on your cheek before flopping dramatically onto the couch. The moment he closes his eyes, you loudly smack your hand against your cheek.

“Ew, fish breath!” you exclaim with exaggerated disgust.

His eyes widen comically as you wipe his kiss away, his mouth forming a dramatic ‘O’ shape. “Fish breath?! Me?!” He sits up. “What kind of joke is this? Why would you say something so untrue?”

You collapse into giggles. “I’m just joking! It was a prank!”

He narrows his eyes suspiciously before a mischievous grin spreads across his face. “Oh? A prank, is it? Well, two can play that game.”

Suddenly, he’s launching himself from the couch, tackling you into a heap of pillows. “You want fish breath? I’ll give you fish breath,” he threatens, making exaggerated kissing sounds while you shriek and try to escape.

“Stop! I surrender!” you gasp between fits of laughter. He hovers above you with twinkling eyes. “Take it back. My breath smells like... what’s something amazing?”

“Like ocean breeze and sunshine?” you offer.

“Hmm,” he considers, still pinning you down. “I like that more.”

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

“Hmm… what an odd aftertaste…” you mumble loud enough for him to hear. “Did you really think I wanted that?” You wipe your lips with your sleeves.

Sylus doesn’t move for a moment, his piercing eyes studying you. Then, slowly, a dangerous smile spreads across his face—the kind that would make others shrink back, but you know better.

“Sweetie,” he purrs, voice silky with amusement, “if you’re attempting to wound my pride, you’ll need to try harder.”

You huff, not getting the reaction you wanted, but it’s expected. “You’re no fun.”

Sylus kisses you again with his usual confidence, gripping your chin with his fingers. “If you want to play games, you should know better than to challenge someone who always plays to win.”

“What are you planning to do about it?” you taunt, still smiling.

His face stops just inches away, whispering, “I’ll ensure my taste lingers,” just before he proves his point.

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

Caleb gives you a quick, sweet kiss before turning to grab his jacket. You immediately swipe dramatically at your mouth. “Blech! What was that? Military-grade morning breath?”

He whips around with an offended ‘are you serious?’ look, then his shoulders relax as he catches the mischief in your eyes.

“Oh, it’s like that, huh?” he says, breaking into a grin. “You know what happens to civilians who mock Fleet officers?”

You back up a step, still giggling. “What are the penalties, Colonel?”

“Severe.” You squeal as he suddenly lunges forward, catching you around the waist and spinning you in a circle. “Take it back!”

“Never!” you declare, struggling half-heartedly against his strong grip.

“Then, I’ll have to deploy countermeasures,” he threatens, eyes bright with laughter as he dips you dramatically and hovers his face above yours. “What kind of countermeasures?” you challenge breathlessly.

His smile softens. “The kind that’ll make you never want to wipe away my kisses again,” he murmurs before demonstrating exactly what he means.

Damn, I haven’t written any fanfics for, like, half a year or something, lol. Consider my first post as me warming up and trying to figure out what format I should use.

[mephisto-reporting]

Husband?

About: How does he react when you accidentally call him your 'husband'? Pairing: Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are in a relationship. My inbox is open for prompts and requests :)

RAFAYEL

The evening was going smoother than expected, considering Rafayel had dragged you along to one of his many gallery showings. He had made a big deal about how you should be the one showing off his work to the public, claiming he didn’t want to deal with the “art-snobs." Yet, the second you both arrived, he quickly preoccupied himself on his phone, leaving you to handle most of the small talk.

One of the visitors, a curious older woman, was admiring a painting of his, a chaotic burst of color with soft hints of golden light. You were discussing Rafayel’s "creative process" (whatever that was—he hadn't told you much before retreating to his phone), when she asked how long you’d been working with him.

“Oh, it’s been a while now. It’s honestly amazing seeing him grow like this—my husb—” You froze mid-sentence, realizing the slip just as it left your mouth.

"Husband?"

The word hung in the air for barely a second before you felt Rafayel’s presence shift. His head shot up like a bolt of lightning, his playful, cunning eyes locking onto yours. You could practically feel his grin before you even dared to glance over. You didn’t even need to turn around to feel his gaze burning into you, practically shouting, Oh? Husband, you say?

“Husband, huh?” Rafayel drawled, pocketing his phone and sauntering toward you with that signature smirk of his. “I didn’t realize we were making things official tonight. If I’d known, I’d have worn something even more dazzling.”

You flushed, attempting to stammer out a correction, but he was far too pleased to let you off the hook that easily. He leaned casually against the gallery wall, one arm crossing his chest as he dramatically placed a hand over his heart.

He gently took your hand in his, his dramatic flair dialed up to maximum as he pressed an exaggerated kiss to your knuckles, clearly relishing the moment. "I mean, I can’t say I’m surprised. Who wouldn’t want to marry someone as charming as me?"

The visitor chuckled awkwardly, clearly not sure whether to stay or go, but Rafayel was already having way too much fun. “Of course, as your loving husband,” he continued, drawing out the word in a singsong voice, “it’s only fitting that I’m showered with even more attention now, isn’t it? I expect lots of praise, darling. I mean, just look at me." He struck a faux thought-provoking pose, tilting his head and flipping a lock of his perfectly tousled hair.

You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but at the same time, his antics made you laugh. “I didn’t mean to—"

"Oh no, no,” he interrupted, wagging his finger playfully. “You can’t take it back now. The word’s out, Miss Bodyguard. You’ve called me your husband. That means you’re stuck with me. Forever.” There was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “Does this mean I get to cheat at board games forever too?”

You groaned, rolling your eyes as you playfully swatted at his shoulder. “As if you needed a reason to cheat more!”

Rafayel laughed, that familiar bratty grin plastered across his face. “Well, if I’m your husband now, I think it’s only fair I get first dibs on everything. Cards, claw machines—oh, and don’t forget, I demand the comfiest seat when we binge-watch our shows.”

Despite his teasing, the warmth in his eyes made your heart skip a beat. You could see the genuine delight he took in your slip-up, how pleased he was at the thought, even if he’d never admit it outright.

“Fine, fine,” you sighed dramatically, playing along. “But don’t expect me to let you win at everything, ‘husband.’”

Rafayel beamed, and for a moment, that bratty, carefree mask of his slipped, just a little. He tugged you closer, his voice softening as he murmured, “Deal.” Then, just as quickly, he switched back to his usual, cheeky self. “Now, let’s go, wife. You’re required to be by my side while I survive this boring night. ”

Shaking your head, you laughed, unable to hide the smile creeping onto your lips. “You’re impossible.”

The woman, watching the scene unfold with a warm smile, laughed. “You two make quite the pair.”

“Oh, we do, don’t we?” Rafayel quipped before lowering his voice just enough for only you to hear, leaning in ever so slightly. “You’ve really outdone yourself, calling me that in front of witnesses. Now they’ll all expect a wedding invitation.”

Your face burned as you tried to shush him, but he was loving every second of it. He tilted his head, his hair catching the light as his smile softened into something more genuine, the bratty exterior fading just a bit. “Still… I can’t say I hate the sound of it,” he murmured, brushing a finger lightly under your chin before pulling back with a playful wink. “I might just get used to hearing it.”

You could only manage a huff of exasperation, but deep down, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter at the way his teasing had just a hint of sincerity behind it.

Rafayel, always dramatic, and yet somehow, just when you least expected it, a little bit sweet.

ZAYNE

You and Zayne were in the middle of your usual weekly grocery run, efficiently dividing and conquering your list to save time. He’d taken off towards the produce section while you headed for the rice aisle. As you browsed the different varieties, a middle-aged man beside you struggled with lifting a heavy bag of rice.

"Need a hand?" you asked, stepping in to help. The man smiled gratefully as you hoisted the bag into his cart with ease.

"Thank you, young lady," he said, rubbing his wrist. "My arthritis is flaring up today. Getting old’s no fun."

You offered him a sympathetic smile. “No problem at all. My husband’s a doctor, actually. I’m sure he’d tell you to take it easy on that wrist."

The man nodded in agreement, offering you one last thanks before heading off. You turned back to your cart, completely unaware of the word you had just let slip—husband—or the fact that Zayne had returned in time to hear it.

You felt him step up behind you, his presence calm yet undeniably magnetic. When you finally glanced over, he was standing there, hands in his pockets, a small, amused smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"Husband, hmm?" he said softly, his tone more curious than teasing. "That's... new."

You froze for a second, eyes widening as you realized what you’d said.  You opened your mouth, the words tripping over each other in a rush. “I didn’t— I mean, it just—slipped out. We’re not actually—I mean, obviously, we’re not—” You could feel the heat creeping up your neck, and no amount of backpedaling was helping.

Zayne didn’t seem in a rush to let you off the hook. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining with an ease that made your heart stutter. “You know,” he said, voice as calm as ever, “if this is your way of bringing it up, there are smoother ways to do it.” His teasing was subtle, barely perceptible if you didn’t know him well, but it was there in the gentle tug of his smile.

You groaned, pressing a hand to your forehead. “Zayne, I didn’t mean to—”

But Zayne, ever level-headed, merely took your hand in his, his thumb gently brushing against your knuckles. “Relax,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “It’s not like I mind the idea.”

Your heart skipped a beat at that, and you looked up at him in surprise. There was a softness in his usually stoic gaze, the kind that made your stomach flip. He continued, his voice measured but affectionate, “Seems like the next logical step, doesn’t it? My parents have been asking me when I’m going to take that step with you for a while now.”

His calm tone made the statement feel both casual and monumental at the same time. “Wait, your parents…?” you started, blinking as your brain processed this new information.

“Mhm,” Zayne replied, still holding your hand as though it was the most natural thing in the world. “They’ve been pretty vocal about it, actually. But I’ve been waiting for the right moment.”

The right moment. Those words hung in the air, and you could feel the weight of what he was saying. He was serious—calm and casual, as always, but serious. Your breath caught, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade into the background. It was just you and Zayne in that grocery aisle, hands linked, talking about a future you hadn’t even realized you both wanted.

“Only if you wanted to, of course,” he added, his thumb still tracing soft circles on your hand. “I wouldn’t do anything unless we both agreed.”

You stared at him, a smile slowly spreading across your face despite the initial shock. “You’re really suggesting this now? In the middle of a grocery store?”

Zayne smirked, his usual pragmatic self. “Well, we’re already talking about it. Might as well make use of the time.” He glanced down at your joined hands, his tone softening again. “Besides, I think it’s worth discussing what our future looks like, don’t you?”

Your heart swelled at his words, and the warmth of his hand in yours was enough to make you feel grounded, no matter how your emotions were spinning. “Yeah,” you said, smiling as you squeezed his hand gently. “I think it’s definitely worth talking about.”

Zayne leaned in closer, his lips brushing your temple in a rare public display of affection. “Good,” he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet kind of affection that made your chest tighten. “We’ll talk more later.”

He pulled away just as smoothly, picking up the cart with a practiced ease, as though he hadn’t just suggested the two of you start planning your future together. His eyes twinkled, a subtle tease hiding behind that usual calm exterior of his.

“And for the record,” he added, as the two of you moved on to the next aisle, “I wouldn’t mind hearing you call me ‘husband’ again.”

Your cheeks heated again, but this time, you didn’t bother trying to hide your smile. “Guess you’ll have to earn it first, doctor.”

Zayne chuckled softly, that familiar, grounded confidence in his voice. “I’ll be sure to work on that.”

SYLUS

The desert sun was relentless, and you could feel its heat pressing down on you as you stood beside Sylus, waiting to be seated inside the restaurant. He had dragged you out of Linkon on one of his mysterious ventures—no explanation, no warning, just the two of you thrust into the desert with little more than his cryptic directions. And while Sylus might have thrived in the N109 Zone's shadowy world, he was decidedly out of place here in the glaring sunlight,already starting to show hints of discomfort.

You glanced over at him, squinting slightly under the bright light. His expression was carefully controlled as always, but you noticed how his hand twitched subtly as if annoyed by the heat. The two of you had been waiting to be seated inside for a while now, and you decided it was time to speed things up.

Catching the attention of a passing waitress, you waved her over, putting on your best expression of concern. “Excuse me, my husband and I were hoping to be seated inside. I’m feeling a little faint under the harsh sun,” you said smoothly, the lie of you feeling faint rolling off your tongue with ease.

The word husband had slipped out so naturally, you didn’t even realize your mistake until the waitress nodded sympathetically and promised to get you a table indoors right away. As she walked off, you felt a cold gaze slide over you, and you turned to see Sylus staring down at you, one brow raised, a slow, dangerous smile creeping across his face.

“Husband?” His voice was smooth, but there was a teasing lilt beneath it. “Did I miss a wedding, wife?”

Your breath caught in your throat. "Wait—no, I didn't mean—" You started to stammer, heat rising to your cheeks, but before you could backtrack any further, Sylus’ arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer to his side. His grip was firm, possessive, and you could feel the smug amusement radiating off of him.

“I like the sound of that,” he murmured, leaning in just close enough for you to catch the scent of the desert air still clinging to his clothes. His lips ghosted near your ear, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Maybe this is a sign I should make it official.”

You swallowed hard, heart racing as you tried to keep your composure. “Official?” you echoed, your voice coming out a little more breathless than you intended. “What—what are you talking about?”

Sylus’ smirk widened, his amber eyes gleaming in the sun. “Oh? Cat got your tongue, Sweetie?” he teased, his tone dripping with amusement as he let his fingers trace a light circle on your hip. “You seemed so sure a moment ago, wife. But now? Speechless.”

You blinked, trying to gather your wits, but the sheer cockiness in his tone was making it hard to think straight. “I…I was just…helping us get a table,” you protested weakly, trying to pull away from his grip, but his hold only tightened.

“Oh, I’m sure you were,” he drawled, clearly reveling in your flustered state. “But now that you’ve set the bar so high, don’t tell me you’re going to back out on me. After all, you made quite the declaration back there.”

“I wasn’t—” You huffed, narrowing your eyes at him as you regained a sliver of your usual confidence. “You know it was a slip-up, Sylus. Don’t start getting ideas.”

He chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “Ideas? Sweetie, I live for ideas.” His grip loosened just enough to let you step back, but the way he looked at you made it clear he wasn’t about to let you wriggle out of this one easily. “But let’s be honest, you didn’t hate it. Calling me your husband.”

Your face flushed again, but this time, you managed to meet his gaze without faltering. “I didn’t hate it,” you admitted, folding your arms, “but don’t go thinking you’ve won. I’m not about to sign any papers just because you liked hearing it.”

Sylus tilted his head, the playful smile never leaving his lips. “We’ll see about that, kitten” he said, the threat—or promise—hanging in the air between you as the waitress returned to guide you inside.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “Please, Sylus. You couldn’t handle being married to me.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning in with that infuriating smirk. “Oh, I think I could handle you just fine, sweetheart. You’re the one who might need to keep up.”

You shot back, “Keep up? I’d be carrying you the whole way.”

“Careful, Sweetie. That sounds an awful lot like a challenge.” He chuckled, his hand brushing against yours again. “Now that’s a tempting thought.”

“Tempting? Try exhausting,” you quipped.

As you walked beside him, you felt his arm brush against yours, and the sensation lingered far longer than it should have. Sylus, of course, said nothing, though the smug expression never quite left his face.

This was clearly far from over. And judging by the glint in his eye, Sylus was going to make sure you never forgot your little slip-up.

XAVIER

The café was quiet, filled with the soft murmur of patrons and the comforting smell of fresh pastries. You and Xavier had settled in for a peaceful afternoon, your table already adorned with a delightful array of treats. He had requested a simple drink—no whipped cream. The barista returned, placing his drink in front of him with an impressive mountain of whipped cream on top. Xavier, as calm and indifferent as ever, simply blinked at it, showing no signs of complaint. He wasn’t going to say a word about it, but that didn’t mean you were going to let it slide.

Excusing yourself, you raised a hand and called over a passing staff member. “Excuse me,” you began, with a polite smile. “My husband asked for no whipped cream on his drink, but it looks like there’s some here by mistake. Would it be alright for us to get it changed?”

The words tumbled out so smoothly that you didn’t even realize your slip-up until the staff member nodded apologetically and hurried back to fix the order. It was only when you turned back around that you saw Xavier sitting there, looking unusually... stunned.

He was blinking slowly at you, his expression softened by a hint of confusion and—was that amusement? “Husband?” he repeated, his soft voice barely more than a murmur.

Your face flushed as you fumbled for an explanation. “Oh, no, wait—! I didn’t mean—” You stammered, desperately trying to backtrack. “That just slipped out! I meant to say…uh my boyfriend? Partner? Date? Not—well, not husband, obviously…”

Xavier continued to blink, his face now showing just a little more expression than usual. The faintest curl of a smile played on his lips, and he tilted his head, considering your words. “I must’ve missed that chapter in the 'Guide to a Healthy Relationship,'” he said in that calm, unruffled way of his. “I didn’t know we’d moved on to the husband-and-wife stage.”

You groaned inwardly, burying your face in your hands. “I swear, it was an accident. Just ignore what I said.”

But Xavier was clearly in no mood to let it go. “So, dear wife,” he continued, completely unfazed by your protests, “do you think we’ll have matching mugs in our future? Maybe get a nice house, with a small garden and a picket fence?”

You shot him a playful glare, but the way he was looking at you made it impossible to stay annoyed. “Very funny,” you muttered, though your lips were twitching at the corners, betraying your amusement.

“I think it has a nice ring to it,” Xavier said, leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying this far more than you expected. “I wonder how long it would take for people in the association to start sending us wedding gifts. Or perhaps they'd just send weapons... you know, as a gesture of goodwill.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t think wedding gifts are really their style, Xavier.”

“Hmm, you’re probably right,” he said thoughtfully, then leaned in slightly, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “But you did call me your husband in public. Shouldn’t we at least play the part now?”

Your cheeks were burning, but you couldn’t resist playing along with his ridiculousness. “Fine,” you said, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow. “But just so you know, dear husband, you’ll be the one doing the dishes.”

Xavier chuckled softly, the sound rare and surprisingly warm. “As long as you take care of meals. A fair trade.”

You were about to retort when the waitress returned with Xavier’s newly corrected drink—this time, free of whipped cream. She set it down with a smile, glancing between the two of you as if she’d picked up on the playful atmosphere. “Here you go,” she said. “No whipped cream this time, sir.”

Xavier’s eyes glinted as he thanked her with a nod, and after she left, he looked back at you with a satisfied expression. “See? Husband perks,” he teased, taking a sip of his drink.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the smile spreading across your face. “You’re an idiot.”

“And you’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he said, the teasing lilt in his voice gentler now. He took your hand under the table, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “But... thank you,” he added after a beat, his voice softer and more sincere. “For speaking up for me.”

You blinked at him, momentarily thrown off by the gratitude in his tone. “Of course,” you said, squeezing his hand in return. “That’s what wives do, right?”

Xavier let out a soft laugh. “I suppose so,” he murmured, his lips quirking into a rare, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat.

In that moment, with his hand in yours and the gentle teasing in the air, it was easy to forget the world outside the café. Just the two of you, playing pretend—but maybe, just maybe, something more.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

[dior-luxury]

How'd They React To You Skipping School

( ✧ ) ────── boyfriend stories . comedy/drama - she/her .

- [𝐜𝐡.] cater . leona. floyd . vil . rook . silver . sebek . malleus

- [𝐩:𝐬] none

Note: I had like no idea of what to post, so I just decided to post one of my drafts!

Cater Diamond

Cater is used to you doing your own thing, but when he realizes you're skipping school without telling him, it throws him off. He first notices your absence in class when he glances over at your usual seat and finds it empty.

"Huh? No way. Did she sleep in?" he mumbles, tilting his head.

He checks his Magicam feed just in case, and sure enough—there you are, chilling at a café, sipping on a fancy drink with a little dessert on the side.

"Omg. She’s out living her best life while I’m suffering in Trein’s lecture?? Rude."

At first, he considers letting it slide. After all, it’s not like he never ditches, but the more he thinks about it, the more a nagging feeling settles in his chest.

So, the second class ends, he shoots you a text.

Cay-kun 🧡: Baaaaabe, why am I seeing u on my Magicam instead of in class? U cheating on me with a strawberry shortcake? 😭🍰

You don’t reply right away. He sighs, leaning against a hallway wall. Then, an idea strikes him. If you’re going to skip school, why not have a real ditch day adventure?

Thirty minutes later, you’re peacefully enjoying your alone time when a very familiar voice chimes in from across the café.

"Omg, no way. What are the chances? I just happened to be in the area~", Cater says, sliding into the seat across from you with an easy grin.

You roll your eyes. "Cater, you totally left school to find me."

He laughs, taking a sip of your drink without asking. "Busted. But c’mon, how could I let my precious girlfriend have all the fun by herself? We could’ve planned a whole cute ditch day together!"

Though he’s joking, there’s a flicker of something else in his expression—concern, maybe? You don’t miss the way his fingers drum lightly against the table, the way his usual easygoing smile seems just a bit forced.

"Next time, at least tell me, okay? I wanna make sure you’re safe. Plus, if you’re gonna skip, might as well do it with style. Matching outfits, cute couple photos—the whole deal."

Even though he’s being playful, you know he’s serious. And honestly? You wouldn’t mind skipping with him next time.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona is no stranger to skipping school—hell, it’s practically his hobby. So when he hears from Ruggie that you didn’t show up to class, his first reaction is to scoff.

"Tch. So what? Not like it’s my problem."

But as the day drags on, something bugs him. He expected you to at least text him if you were gonna skip.

By the time lunch rolls around, his patience is gone.

Instead of going to class, he heads straight to his usual napping spot in the botanical gardens—where, conveniently, he finds you lounging on a bench, headphones in, eyes closed as you soak in the afternoon sun.

For a moment, he just watches. Then, with a sigh, he plops down beside you, one arm draped over the back of the bench as he tilts his head toward you.

"You got some nerve skippin’ without tellin’ me."

Your eyes snap open. "Leona? How’d you—"

"I am the king, y’know. I got eyes everywhere."

He leans in, his voice dropping to that low, lazy drawl that always sends a shiver down your spine. "So? You got a reason for dodging class, or you just felt like slacking?"

You mumble something about needing a break. Leona raises an eyebrow, letting out a deep sigh.

"Hmph. Well, can’t say I blame you. But if you’re gonna play hooky, at least do it right."

Before you can react, he shifts, lying down with his head in your lap, eyes already closing.

"Since you’re already here, you might as well stay. I ain’t letting you run off alone again—next time, you skip, you tell me first. Got it?"

His words are firm, but the way his hand lazily rests on your knee, fingers tracing absentminded patterns, tells you everything you need to know.

You weren’t just skipping school—you were skipping him. And Leona Kingscholar doesn’t like being left out.

Floyd Leech

When Floyd finds out you skipped school, the reaction is instant and dramatic.

It starts when he bursts into your dorm room, eyes glinting with mischief.

"Shrimpyyyyy~ Why weren’t you in class today?"

Before you can even answer, he flops down onto your bed, stretching like a lazy cat.

"I was soooo boooored. Sitting in class with no Shrimpy to tease? Ugh, it was awful!"

You roll your eyes. "Floyd, it’s just one day. I needed a break."

The air shifts.

Floyd props himself up on one elbow, his usual playful smile still in place, but there’s something more intense behind his eyes now.

"Hmm. A break from school? Or a break from me?"

You blink. "Wait, what? No, that’s not—"

Before you can finish, he’s suddenly on top of you, his long fingers gently but firmly pressing against your wrists. His grin widens, but his grip tightens just slightly.

"Y’know, if you wanted to play hooky, you could’ve just told me. We coulda done something fun together." His voice drops to a murmur, lips brushing against your ear. "But instead, you ran off all alone… That’s kinda mean, don’tcha think?"

Your heart skips a beat. "Floyd, I didn’t mean it like that—"

In an instant, his mood flips back.

"Hehe, just kidding~!" He suddenly rolls off you, laughing as he sprawls out on the bed again.

"Buuut next time you skip, I’m coming with you. No ifs, ands, or buts. Shrimpy doesn’t get to run away from me, got it?"

Despite the playfulness, you know he’s dead serious. And honestly? It’s safer to just agree. Because when Floyd wants something…

He gets it.

Here’s how Vil, Rook, and Silver would react to you skipping school, each in their own unique way!

Vil Schoenheit

Vil notices your absence immediately. He keeps a close eye on you—not in an overbearing way (or so he claims), but enough to know when something’s off.

It starts when he walks into class and sees your seat empty. He frowns.

"Where is she?" he murmurs, more to himself than anyone else.

Even Rook, who usually lets things play out naturally, raises an eyebrow at Vil’s reaction.

"Perhaps ma belle has decided to take an impromptu escape from the drudgery of academia?"

Vil clicks his tongue. "Hardly. She wouldn’t skip for no reason. Which means…"

His eyes narrow as he pulls out his phone and dials your number. It rings. And rings. No answer.

Vil is not amused.

By lunch, he has had enough. With a sigh, he closes his notebook, stands up, and says, "If the professors ask, tell them I’m handling a… personal matter."

A few students exchange glances, but no one questions him. When Vil Schoenheit is on a mission, he gets what he wants.

—

You’re lounging at a quiet spot near the outskirts of campus, enjoying the rare moment of solitude, when suddenly—

"There you are."

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of his voice.

Vil stands before you, arms crossed, his violet eyes burning with irritation.

"Would you like to explain to me why you’ve chosen to neglect your studies today?"

You stammer out something about needing a break. The pressure of school, the endless expectations—it was all just too much.

For a moment, Vil just stares at you. Then, with a sigh, he walks over and gracefully sits beside you.

"I understand," he says at last, his tone softer now. "But running away won’t solve anything, my dear. If you were overwhelmed, you should have come to me."

His fingers gently brush a strand of hair from your face, his expression unreadable.

"Your beauty, your mind, your potential—they are things that should be nurtured, not neglected. And if anyone dares to say otherwise, they’ll have to deal with me."

You swallow, feeling warmth bloom in your chest.

"But…" he continues, tilting your chin up slightly, "if you ever pull something like this again without informing me, I will drag you back to class myself. Understood?"

With Vil, skipping school is not just about missing lessons. It’s about maintaining excellence—and to him, you deserve nothing less.

Rook Hunt

Rook doesn’t need anyone to tell him you skipped school. He feels it.

The moment he steps into the classroom, a shiver runs down his spine. He scans the room, and sure enough—you’re missing.

"Ah… mon trésor, where could you have vanished to?"

Anyone else might have let it go. But Rook? Rook Hunt?

Oh, no, no, no.

This is a hunt.

—

You think you’ve found the perfect hiding spot—a secluded meadow just beyond campus. The breeze is gentle, the grass soft, and the world feels so blissfully quiet.

But then—

"Ah…! What a rare and exquisite sight! A most beautiful creature, escaping the confines of duty to embrace the wild!"

You jerk up, heart pounding. "Rook?! How—"

He smiles down at you, eyes glimmering with delight.

"My dear, you wound me! Did you truly believe you could evade me?"

You groan. "Can’t I have one day to myself?"

Rook simply chuckles, kneeling beside you. "But of course! And what a splendid setting you have chosen! Ah, the crisp air, the golden sunlight—it is a moment worthy of poetry!"

You sigh, leaning back. "So, you’re not going to drag me back?"

Rook tilts his head.

"Non, non, ma chérie. Who am I to interfere with the call of your spirit?" His voice lowers, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "However… I must ask—were you running to something… or from something?"

You pause. You hadn’t thought about it that way.

Rook hums, plucking a flower and tucking it behind your ear.

"Whatever it is, you need not face it alone. If ever you wish to flee again… invite me along, oui? Let us embark on a grand adventure together."

His words are sweet, but the message is clear—next time, he will find you. And next time… you might not mind.

Silver

Silver is usually the one who accidentally skips class (thanks to his habit of falling asleep anywhere), so when he realizes you’re the one missing, it catches him off guard.

Lilia is the first to notice his concern.

"Looking for someone, Silver?" he asks, sipping his tea.

Silver hesitates. "She’s not here. She wasn’t in class this morning."

Lilia chuckles. "Ah, young love. Are you worried, or do you just miss her?"

Silver’s ears turn a little pink. "That’s not—"

But he is worried.

So, after finishing his morning duties, he sets off to find you. It doesn’t take long.

He finds you by a quiet stream, legs dangling over the edge, watching the water ripple. You don’t even hear him approach—until he’s sitting beside you.

"Skipping school, huh?" he says, voice calm but firm.

You sigh. "Are you here to lecture me?"

Silver shakes his head. "No. But I am here to make sure you’re okay."

You blink, surprised.

He gazes at the water for a long moment before speaking again.

"I get it. Sometimes, the world moves too fast. Sometimes, you just… need to stop." He exhales. "I’ve felt that way too."

His honesty takes you off guard.

"But," he continues, turning to look at you, "you don’t have to bear it alone. If you ever need to slow down… let me stay by your side."

Your heart clenches at the sincerity in his voice. Silver has always been gentle, always patient—but beneath it all is a quiet strength, one that makes you feel… safe.

He offers you his hand. "Let’s go back together. But if you really don’t want to, then I’ll stay here with you."

You stare at his outstretched hand. And for the first time today, you don’t feel like you have to run.

Because with Silver beside you, the world doesn’t seem so overwhelming anymore.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek prided himself on being alert, disciplined, and ever-diligent in all things—so when he noticed your absence from class, his first instinct was absolute outrage.

"Where is she?!" he bellowed the moment roll call finished, slamming his hands down on his desk.

The entire class turned to stare. Even Lilia, who was used to Sebek’s theatrics, raised an eyebrow.

"Calm yourself, Sebek. I’m sure she has her reasons," Lilia said, sipping his tea.

Sebek whirled around. "Reasons? What reasons could possibly justify this?! My human— I mean, my beloved has abandoned her education!"

His heart raced in his chest, not just from frustration, but from concern. What if something had happened to you? What if you were in danger? What if—gasp—you were avoiding him?!

No. Unacceptable.

Without hesitation, Sebek stormed out of class, determined to find you and drag you back to school himself.

—

You were relaxing in a quiet corner of the gardens, lying beneath the shade of a tree, finally enjoying some peace. That is, until—

"HUMAN!"

The roar of your name nearly sent you flying out of your seat. Before you could even react, Sebek loomed over you, arms crossed, golden eyes blazing with intensity.

"You dare to SKIP CLASS?! What kind of nonsense is this?! Have you no sense of duty?!"

You groaned, rubbing your temples. "Sebek, please. Not so loud."

"LOUD?!" he repeated, even louder. "How can I possibly remain quiet when you have committed such a heinous act?! Skipping school—DISGRACEFUL!"

You sighed. "I just needed a break. I wasn’t in the mood for class today."

Sebek scowled. He wanted to scold you further—to lecture you on the importance of education, of discipline, of honor—but then… he saw the tired look in your eyes.

His frustration wavered.

"You… were not in the mood?" he repeated, his voice softer now.

You nodded. "I’ve been feeling overwhelmed. I just wanted to breathe a little, that’s all."

Sebek stiffened. His grip on his arms tightened. His natural instinct was to demand you push through it—to insist that duty must always come first.

But then… he thought of Lord Malleus. How often had his master been told to put his responsibilities first? How often had he been isolated because of that very thinking?

Sebek hesitated. Then, very slowly, he sat down beside you.

"If you were feeling unwell… you should have informed me." His voice was still gruff, but gentler now. "It is my duty to stand by your side, no matter the circumstance."

You blinked, surprised by the change in his tone. Sebek? Being understanding? That was new.

He cleared his throat. "But! This does NOT mean I condone such behavior!" He huffed, turning away. "If you must rest, then rest properly! Not by… skipping school like some delinquent!"

You smiled. "So, you’re not mad?"

"OF COURSE I AM—!" He caught himself, exhaled sharply, then muttered, "…Just do not make a habit of it."

You giggled. Despite all his dramatic ranting, you could tell he was genuinely worried about you.

And maybe, just maybe… Sebek Zigvolt cared more about your well-being than he let on.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus immediately noticed your absence the moment he stepped into class.

At first, he thought you were simply running late. But as the minutes passed and your seat remained empty, his usual calm began to crack.

"She is not here," he murmured to himself, fingers tapping lightly against his desk.

Lilia, watching from the side, smiled knowingly. "Ah, young love. Worried already?"

Malleus said nothing, but his green eyes darkened.

The moment class ended, he vanished. Not even his retainers could stop him.

—

You were peacefully sitting beneath a willow tree, flipping through a book, when the sky suddenly dimmed.

A chill ran through the air. The once-bright afternoon grew darker, as if the sun itself was hiding.

And then—

"There you are."

Your head snapped up. Standing before you, tall and regal as ever, was Malleus. His emerald gaze bore into yours, unreadable and intense.

"You did not come to class today," he stated. Not a question. A fact.

You swallowed. "I just… needed a break."

Malleus was silent for a long moment. Then, he took slow, deliberate steps forward.

"A break," he repeated softly. "From school… or from me?"

Your eyes widened. "Wait, what? No, Malleus, I—"

Before you could finish, he had closed the distance. He stood so close, his presence towering, consuming.

"Do you understand how worried I was?" His voice was gentle, yet firm. "You disappeared without a word. Do you truly believe I would not seek you out?"

You fumbled for words, guilt creeping into your chest.

"I didn’t think it would be a big deal—"

"You are my beloved."

The way he said it—so matter-of-factly, so absolute—made your breath hitch.

"Everything about you is a 'big deal' to me."

Your heart pounded. You opened your mouth to respond, but Malleus was already sitting beside you, his usual regal demeanor softening.

"If you wished to escape," he murmured, "you need only call for me. I would take you anywhere you desire."

His fingers ghosted over yours.

"But next time, do not disappear on your own. My heart does not take well to such… uncertainty."

A lump formed in your throat. You hadn't meant to worry him—not like this.

You turned, meeting his gaze. "I promise. Next time… I’ll tell you."

His expression eased, and a rare, soft smile graced his lips.

"Good."

And just like that, the sky brightened once more.

Malleus Draconia was no stranger to solitude. But when it came to you…

He would not tolerate being left behind.