#hate hate hate needing to feel superior than others and also not getting social cues

[daffythefox]

hate hate hate the "are you there" "no" joke like on vcs and stuff because you said you weren't there. like if something happens and I like spill a drink or smthn and I'm giving my undivided attention to cleaning it up, I might be there physically but I'm not like ready to do anything! and if i respond to "are you there" with "no" and they assume I'm kidding when I'm not that is so frustrating

if I'm waiting to start smthn and I'm like doing a kind of roll call to make sure everyone's there and someone says "no, i'm not here." then i'm like "ok we gotta wait for em" and they're like "ofc I'm here i responded it was a joke" and I'm like "you know it's funny when you have to explain it"

and then ppl like make me feel stupid for giving them the benefit of the doubt and then I get angry and I feel like a complete idiot it's not good

[renaerys]

Okay I've got one: Prompt 15 with Reds. 🤣🤣🤣

15. “I can’t hear a word you’re saying, I just keep thinking about how good that mouth feels.”

Somehow they can make even breathing a competition.

Send me a prompt and some characters! Reminder that the challenge is to make everything SFW, so we're getting creative here.

List of prompts

xxx

“So, we’ve called the paramedics and they’re on their way, but until they arrive it’s up to us. Remember the acronym, kids: C-A-B. What’s the first thing you do?”

Aiyeesha Simpson, a gunner in the making destined for academic greatness and social ruin, raised her eager hand. “Find a flat surface to lay him down!”

“Correct.” Blossom took Brick by the shoulders and shoved him down to the floor. A gaggle of Girl Scouts gathered around him as he wheezed for air.

“Ow,” he said.

Blossom patted his chest. “Please choke more quietly.”

I will end you, he thought so loudly he hoped she could hear him through the murder in his eyes. There was community service, and then there was cruel and unusual punishment. When his required hours were up and his record expunged, he was going to write a very negative Yelp review of the local Townsville Girls Scouts of America chapter and tank this year’s cookie sales. Supremely annoying, outrageously petty, and totally legal. That would teach Blossom for sure.

“Place your hands here between the nipples.”

Some of the Cadette Girl Scouts giggled. To be fair, Blossom of all people saying the word nipples in reference to her former mortal enemy as she trained a room full of twelve-year-old girls in CPR using him as the dummy was a perfect storm of absurd and kinky that he did not see coming. And now he was giggling himself, because he was a teenaged boy who thought the word nipples was funny regardless of the very clear contextual cues, and that pubescent shame was on him, one hundred percent.

Blossom, an ancient and inconveniently attractive evil resurrected in a lab for the sole purpose of making his life miserable, did not appreciate his amusement. “Push hard at a rate of 100 to 120 compressions per minute. Remember to put your bodyweight behind it, like this.”

Brick flexed, and Blossom pushed against his heart like she was trying to crush it in her hands. Once, twice, three times she administered compressions, and Brick’s eyes glowed red with impotent rage.

“Assist Blossom with her CPR lessons to her satisfaction, and we can forget this ever happened,” Mayor Bellum had promised Brick when he lost his temper and blew up an (empty) ambulance. Butch didn’t need his Super stomach pumped no matter how much he drank, so the ambulance and the four-figure bill that came with it were completely unnecessary. This defense did not convince the mayor, however.

The promise of the bill forgiven and his record cleared—and the deterrence of Aiyeesha Simpson filming the whole thing to upload to YouTube later—gave Brick the strength not to eye beam Blossom in front of the children.

“Okay, who wants to try chest compressions on the dummy?” Blossom offered to the girls.

You evil bitch, thought the aforementioned dummy.

After the third little girl properly placed her sticky, little girl hands between his nipples, Brick had had enough. “Hey, I’m still dying over here. Can we move on already? Jesus Christ.”

“Of course.” Blossom smiled, and she had never looked more terrifying.

Brick hoped Butch was suffering. He hoped he was hung over so bad he couldn’t piss standing up. He hoped Butch tried going online only to find that Brick had disconnected the Internet and cut him off from all his online games and porn because fuck Butch and his weak-ass stomach.

“Who knows what the next step is? Maybe someone other than Aiyeesha this time?”

None of the other girls seemed willing to stick their hands up. The carpet under Brick had scorched where his power leaked out in his building resentment for this entire situation. The smell of burned polyester just made him feel even more powerless to stop this.

“No? Okay, well, remember the acronym. A is for airway. You want to be careful about a possible neck injury, so gently lift the chin…”

Blossom’s hands were not sticky like the Girl Scouts’ hands, but they were cold where they touched his skin and forced his head back.

“Are the paramedics here yet?”

Brick got a tight fist in his short hair for that one, and he considered it a small victory. “No. Something about a shortage of ambulances, apparently.”

Biiiiiiiitch.

God, he was going to destroy her so bad.

“Once you’ve cleared the airway and confirmed there are no obstructions—”

“Then you kiss!”

Some girls picked up the giggling again. Blossom, ever the professional, cleared her throat. “Mouth to mouth is a life-saving procedure and not something I’d recommend doing to someone you plan to kiss.”

Wow, great advice.

Some girls still giggled and whispered to each other. Brick had a sinking feeling that this was only going to end with his embarrassment: everyone knew that the cold judgment of pre-pubescent girls was the absolute worst type of judgment a person could suffer.

“Are you gonna show us?”

“Well, I don’t think I need to show you all how to breathe—”

“It’s in the manual! You have to demonstrate every step.” Aiyeesha waved the CPR manual, and Brick realized his misjudgment. She was no vapid goody two-shoes in the making, but a future Honors Student with a secret, a Work Hard Party Harder, an Ivy League Early Decision candidate with all of senior spring semester to slack off because no one was ever going to touch her 4.3 GPA.

Aiyeesha beamed a winning smile at Brick, and it was as chilling as Blossom’s.

Jesus Christ, there are two of them.

True to form, Blossom had never been able to defy a good instructions manual. “I suppose if it says so in the manual…”

Locking lips with Blossom was not a big deal. He’d done it before when they were kids, and he could appreciate the irony of a gesture meant to save his life this time rather than end it. She didn’t even try to mess with him by using her ice breath, just went through the motions as described in the instructions. The girls were disappointed with the lack of hormonal fanfare of it all, which was probably for the best. Leave it to Blossom to make mouth to mouth the sexless, medical act it was literally intended to be. He was almost upset, because it felt like she’d won something here, which could only mean he’d lost.

Disappointed but more educated than they’d been when they’d arrived two hours ago, the Girl Scouts dispersed after the lesson, leaving Blossom and Brick to put away the equipment they’d used.

She held a dummy torso, and she was looking at him with that pinched, constipated look she got when she was about to say something especially snobby. Instead, she surprised him. “Brick, thanks for being mature about it. I can honestly say you surprised me.”

He stared at her.

“I’ll talk to Mayor Bellum. I’m sure you’ve done enough to meet your hours quota.”

He had not fulfilled even half of his required community service hours and they both knew it.

“So yeah, thanks. I can finish up here if you want to leave.”

Was she trying to get rid of him? Why?

“Brick? Why are you looking at me like that?”

When Blossom was winning, he was losing. That was simply the way of the world. So, if she was losing, it could only mean he was winning.

“Are you listening to me?”

Brick smiled in what he hoped was a cool, sexy way if he imagined looking at anyone but Blossom. “I can’t hear a word you’re saying. I just keep thinking about how good that mouth feels.”

Blossom stared. “I’m sorry?”

He would make her sorry.

“Yeah, you’re a great teacher. I could really feel your passion for demonstrating the lesson correctly. With your mouth.”

Her staring intensified. “Did you.”

“Oh, yeah.” He leaned his hip against the table like he’d seen in the movies. It worked for Daniel Craig in Casino Royale, and that guy had convinced Eva Green. Iconic. “I could really feel you trying to save me.”

Where was Aiyeesha with her phone to film this? There was so little he could do to rattle Blossom as they got older, and while the challenge delighted him, it was also exhausting being constantly a step behind her. Was this truly her demise? Had he won the Teenage Experience? Was this poetic justice for how she’d once killed him with a mere kiss, only to suffer the same fate in turn? He could have cackled. This was better than trolling the Girl Scouts of America reviews, although he might still do that because it was a genius idea and he had always indulged his own genius ideas when they came to him.

So infatuated was he with his own self-fellating digression that he was slow to react to Blossom sidling up to him. Her hand was still cold on his chin, and it sent a shiver down his spine. “Shall I save you again?”

Brick’s dignity drained with his blood, which was an unfortunate side-effect of being a teenaged boy that he would just have to suffer. But winning was about recognizing one’s weaknesses and working around them. He leaned into her personal space. “Please.”

He wasn’t sure who kissed who first, but it was happening and all he could think was I am better at this than you and I hate you and also Do that again. He tried holding her waist, and she fought back with her fingers in his hair. Not one to be deterred, Brick tried some tongue but pulled back when he tasted thirty degrees below zero. He immediately went back in because he could feel her superiority, her Got you, you horny idiot, but the joke was on her because he liked her cold, always had when it was hot as balls out and he’d make up any excuse to pick a fight with her just for the chance to cool off.

The Girl Scout troop leader walked in on them competitively making out in the classroom like it was an Olympic sport and put an end to things, leaving them at a frustrating draw for now. They said barely a word to each other when Brick glared at the troop leader so bad she flustered and didn’t even question them before running out of there with some excuse about getting the wrong room.

Later that evening, Brick caved and changed the Internet password back just so Butch would quit whining at him. He Googled kissing techniques and spent the next hour and a half watching YouTube videos and reading GQ articles about How to Please Her Like a Champion, because he was a champion and a winner and he was not going to lose to Blossom in this. Not a chance.

This had to be what they meant when they said kill with kindness.

“I’m going to end you,” he muttered to himself as he read about the top ten highest voted movie kissing scenes, which he would then stream and commit to memory in order to be fully armed and armored for the next time he encountered Blossom alone in a classroom. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe during their shared free period.

Truly, he had the most genius ideas.

xxx

If you enjoy my writing, check out more of my fics on AO3, link in my profile. I’m currently updating Trinity House and The Alchemy of Us. Thanks for reading!

[arigatouiris]

animal instincts // inosuke x reader

Author’s Note: Another draft pick hahahahah. I headcanon that Inosuke is like this when he’s in love~ My poor misunderstood rough boi who deserves nothing but the world! I hope ya’ll like this, I put some effort into this one hahahaha. Thanks for reading!!

Word count: 4069

Pairing: Hashibira Inosuke x Reader

Warnings: fluff, slight spice (things get a bit heated here UwU) idk, slight angst, SPOILERS FOR THE KIMETSU MANGA

Zenitsu had a question plaguing his mind ever since (y/n) (l/n) came into his life. Not that he didn’t try wooing her and asking her to marry him, no, she turned him down rather decently and kindly, which forced him to think of her as a good friend. She was a demon slayer herself, having hailed from the same training that Kanao went through. 

As sweet and loving as she was, (y/n) could be just as violent; albeit, Zenitsu and the gang had only seen this side when she fought demons. Her violence was through a silent battle that she knew she would win, and her swordplay was fascinating to the eye. Her mother was a dancer, somewhat similar to Tanjiro’s father, and her mother had taught her everything she needed to know about dance.

However, life wasn’t too kind. (y/n) lost her mother when she was 12 and had been training under Shinobu to become a demon slayer since. She had learned the breath of the flower from Shinobu, but developed her own style scheme by performing different moves through dance. It was, to say the least, impressive.

(y/n) and Inosuke shared a rather weird relationship. 

The first time they met was in between their missions. All four of them were surrounded by a total of seven demons. Inosuke stepped in wanting to be the one to take down everyone, but quietly, (y/n) held him back (almost yelled at but the second Inosuke’s gaze met hers, he grew strangely quiet, which was unlike him). 

     “We need to plan this out. When you’re cornered, you don’t attack head-on. That’s suicide.”

She turned to Inosuke’s mask and grinned, “You’re better alive than dead, right?”

Zenitsu didn’t miss the fuwa fuwa that came out of his boar friend right then, but he was shitting his pants for something else entirely. It was after that did she introduce herself, rather peppily, and seemed like the most happy-go-lucky person they had ever laid their eyes on. Inosuke seemed particularly soft with her, which was very unlike him, but no one made any comment about it. 

     “So Inosuke, why did you become a demon slayer?” (y/n) asked, with a chirpy voice.

Zenitsu and Tanjiro watched as the white puffballs around Inosuke grew in number but the male grunted and walked away, leaving (y/n) there with a confused but happy smile.

     “What happened?”

Zenitsu hit himself on the forehead.

The thing that Zenitsu’s mind was plagued with was this: How would Inosuke behave if he was in love with someone?

For this, he’d need to understand how animals behaved. When an animal finds a potential mate, the male of the species would perform a series of activities in order to impress the female of the species. Like, in birds, the male bird would perform a wide range of dance moves or hops to impress the female, who would display her interest by signalling in and chirping accordingly.

Cut to what they were doing a few weeks ago. They were at the butterfly estate, all four of them, and Tanjiro and (y/n) were talking about him selling charcoal for a living. She was a good listener, and for Tanjiro, it was nice to be heard for a change. Perhaps, in Inosuke’s mind, Tanjiro was another male boar, showcasing his skills (Zenitsu wondered if ‘kindness’ can count as a skill) and (y/n) was considering him. Inosuke however, had a better skill—brisk loudness, and the ability to have anyone’s eye on him for longer durations of time because he was just that distracting.

     “(y/n)!” 

Ah yes, he also never forgot her name for a strange reason, but she only thought that was because he didn’t deem her a threat.

(y/n) were right, in a way.

She turned her head toward Inosuke who was holding his two swords near the courtyard. Zenitsu stood a few feet away from where (y/n) and Tanjiro sat, and watched with an unimpressed expression on his face. This wasn’t amusing in the slightest for the blond, for he had seen men pile up over women and behave in a way they otherwise wouldn’t do. But, in Inosuke’s case, it was definitely...weird.

Upon receiving (y/n)’s attention, Inosuke flipped his blades around in the air and did a few stunts, causing (y/n)’s eyes to widen with absolute amusement. Tanjiro smiled a tad bit, before turning to a disgruntled Zenitsu, and understanding thus what was going on. 

     “Whoa, that’s amazing, Inosuke!” (y/n) said, clapping her hands together.

Tanjiro noticed the white fluff balls come out of the boar boy’s head as his actions suddenly stopped. He might have been raised an animal, but Tanjiro’s heart melted at the realization that Inosuke craved the feelings of attention and kindness from people around him, just as much as he wanted to prove himself superior. Inosuke felt a range of things with the two of them, but with (y/n), he certainly felt softer. And whatever the reason might be, Tanjiro believed his friend deserved it—the boy was pure at heart. 

Coming back to the theory Zenitsu had. Tanjiro approached the boy that evening before having a quick word with him over Inosuke’s obsession with impressing you. Both of them knew that it was more than a crush, but it was also quite out of character. While Tanjiro could swallow Inosuke’s need to be softer with her, Zenitsu thought Inosuke believed it was a competition.

     “Well,” Tanjiro pondered, “It might be, in his head. That was how he was raised and that’s how he thinks? Maybe, if we don’t prove a threat to him, he’ll learn better on understanding how to communicate his feelings.”

Zenitsu scoffed, “That idiot won’t know what feelings are if it hit him on his face like a brick. He thinks like an animal!”

Tanjiro chuckled, “Doesn’t mean animals can’t love,” He turned to spot Inosuke and (y/n) in an animated conversation about butterflies, “Most often, they love better than the rest of us.”

Therefore, the two of them decided to watch Inosuke. Zenitsu did it for his own amusement, but Tanjiro enjoyed merely understanding his friend’s nature. There were three things that Inosuke had to fall under if he were in love with (y/n)—and this was all based on observation. Tanjiro knew how animals thought and behaved to a fair extent, and with his knowledge, analysing Inosuke’s behavior around her seemed like the perfect study.

#1. One mate is territorial over the other.

Zenitsu approached (y/n) one evening, wanting to call her over for dinner. She turned to the blond before waving at him, and having him sit beside her. 

     “Hi, Zenitsu-kun. Is there something you need?”

He wondered where his boar friend was at that second. There was no point to this exercise if Inosuke wasn’t around. Not that he minded having a conversation with (y/n), she was sweet. He turned to her after realizing Inosuke wasn’t around and wondered what she thought of him. 

     “So, Inosuke,” She blinked at his words, “He’s weird, right?”

     “Not at all. I think he’s really sweet.” 

Zenitsu blinked, “Really? Even though he doesn’t understand a lot of social cues? It’s because he was raised in the mountains—”

     “I find that bit fascinating, actually. Even though he was raised in the mountains, he’s so kind.”

     “How is he kind?” Zenitsu grumbled.

(y/n) blinked at the blond’s question. 

     “Do you...not like Inosuke-kun?”

Zenitsu shook his head, “It’s not like that, I just think he’s too much sometimes. Abrasive and rash—it’s like taking care of a loud kid!”

She giggled, “I like that about him! Keeps things lively.”

Zenitsu wasn’t sure now on who the weird one was. With (y/n) defending Inosuke like her life depended on it, it was certain that even she had a soft spot for the boy. But, he couldn’t tell if it was built out of sympathy or romantic feelings like he had. She was just kind, maybe, she defended Zenitsu behind his back (although this thought made him swoon on the inside). 

     “Where is he anyway?” (y/n) grumbled, frowning a bit.

It was at that second when Tanjiro came to the courtyard. (y/n) greeted the brown haired boy before blinking up at him. 

     “Tanjiro-kun, have you seen Inosuke-kun?”

Tanjiro hummed before saying, “Hm, I think he left with Kanao-chan somewhere?”

Zenitsu ‘ah’ed before understanding where the boar boy had gone now. Kanao and Inosuke had been training together for a bit, it wasn’t strange since Inosuke always wanted to get stronger than the others. With Tanjiro having beaten Kanao in that little game, Inosuke wanted to do the same. The boy thought everything was a competition. 

     “Oh?”

Tanjiro almost didn’t notice it, but it was good that he was great at capturing certain scents. Growing up with so many siblings had him understand how to differentiate between the scents of various emotions. When (y/n) stood up, waved to them and left, Tanjiro chuckled, catching Zenitsu’s attention. He wasn’t always certain about a lot of things, but he was sure that he had caught the right scent here.

     “What’s so funny?”

It was the scent of jealousy, he thought before shaking his head.

#2.  One mate tries to impress the other by being the best they can be.

Zenitsu hated missions, and he especially hated them when he had to go with Inosuke. However, the only thing holding his sanity together was that (y/n) had offered to tag along—since her crow was nowhere to be found. Inosuke was thrilled and secretly so was the blond, because now Inosuke seemed controllable. He didn’t know how it worked, but he was glad that it did.

They were to head to a village to find a demon behind a few missing people. Apparently, these people headed to work one day and never returned—and this being near a river, there were chances that this demon resided under water.

     “Can you swim, (y/n)-chan?” 

     “Yes, actually. I didn’t learn it the easy way, though. Shinobu-san basically threw me into the river and forced me to learn the hard way.” She said, dejectedly.

     “When you’re about to drown, your body learns to float!” Inosuke yelled, catching your attention.

     “Y-Yeah, I mean, I was the first one to learn too! Inosuke, I also know what plants you can eat from under water!”

     “You can eat underwater plants?!”

     “Yes! I’ll show you someday! When they’re added into your food, it’s so delicious!”

He couldn’t understand where the fuwa fuwa was coming from now—Zenitsu noticed that the fluffballs were everywhere. He wasn’t sure which mate was trying to impress the other here. 

Tanjiro, Zenitsu thought, who exactly is the animal here? 

He normally never did this, but Zenitsu was curious beyond belief! Therefore, he shut his eyes, paused for a brief moment and let his ears do the detective work. All he could hear were sounds of two hearts fluttering in harmony, an image stuck to his brain that he couldn’t wipe off (and if he was a softer, more mature individual, he would admit that the image was a rather sweet one), but Zenitsu being Zenitsu hated the fact that his mountain boy friend was in love with a sweet crackhead like (y/n)—who in retaliation was in love with a mountain boy as well.

#3. A manner of softness not seen anywhere else.

It was strange to see Inosuke being quiet—it was either only when he was in deep sleep or deep thought (which was very, very rare indeed). However, the mountain boy grew quiet a lot these days; especially because (y/n) hung out a lot whenever the boys were around. He’d watch her, observing her movements, trying to replicate whatever ‘decent’ moves she made like trying to eat with chopsticks or not wearing the mask as much when she’s around.

In all honestly, it was quite evident that Inosuke tried being a human being around her and it was sweet, Tanjiro noted, that he’d try so hard to accommodate to (y/n). 

However, Zenitsu didn’t think it was sweet. He wanted to vomit inside his mouth each time he thought of the boar boy being in love, particularly because it was the sort of love that was rare even for civilized people. The blond always had trouble finding people who accepted him for being who he was, and here was someone like Inosuke—whose personality was somehow revered instead of being shunned. 

What the hell is going on? He thought, grumbling, as he witnessed (y/n) crawl over to Inosuke, as if to sneak up on the boy. Normally, Zenitsu would have yelled and alerted his friend, but he just didn’t care anymore—it was comical, and he’d let it be.

     “Inosuke!” (y/n) pounced on the boar boy from the back, tackling him to the ground, surprising him.

Inosuke blinked, his face a dark red, before screaming in playful anger. 

     “What the hell are you doing?!”

     “Fight me!”

Inosuke’s eyes widened just for a brief moment before he growled and tackled her back, causing her to giggle and try to escape the boar boy’s advances. Now, he was chasing her around the estate, something little animals do when they play with one another. Tanjiro smiled at the sight before Zenitsu noticed fluffballs come around him.

I’ve had enough of this.

Walking over to his boar friend, he grabbed the boy from the back of his mask before yanking it off in one go. Inosuke would never mind beating the living daylight out of his blond friend, but the expression Zenitsu had just then caused him to still his movements. (y/n) paused before blinking up at Zenitsu, tilting her head slightly at the sudden halt.

     “Zenitsu-kun? Is something wrong?”

     “You two are what’s wrong!”

Inosuke growned, “What? You wanna—”

     “NO! I don’t want to fight! Do you honestly not see what’s going on here?!” 

(y/n) giggled before saying, “Inosuke and I are just fooling around—”

     “I thought we were fighting—”

     “We are, but it isn’t a fight where we hurt each other.”

     “Yes! I was thinking the same thing!”

Zenitsu slapped his forehead. He pointed to Inosuke and then pointed to (y/n). Tanjiro approached them before placing a calm hand on his blond friend. 

     “You are clearly in love with her and you are clearly in love with him!”

Inosuke didn’t look like he understood what Zenitsu had blurted out, but (y/n) was civilized where Inosuke wasn’t and just then Zenitsu had called her out rather harshly—but, it was the kind of harsh that was perhaps justified. Her eyes widened and she turned to spot Inosuke grab the blond and put him in a choke hold, but her movements stilled. She looked up to Tanjiro who gave her a kind smile before she bit her lip.

Of course she knew she loved Inosuke. Of course, she wasn’t blind. Ever since she first laid eyes on the beast boy, her mind was picked, her heart was his, and her body did things on its own—wanting to impress him, wanting to stand out and make sure Inosuke remembers her name instead of anyone else’s; she wanted to be special to him, and from all her tries, she was bound to know that her feelings for him were nothing short of romantic. 

However, could he perceive romance? Could Inosuke know what these feelings were and could he act on them? Was she the only one making the effort here? She turned to spot Inosuke fighting with Zenitsu the same way he was fighting with her and she began to wonder, ‘What if I’m actually no different?’

Tanjiro smelled the sudden hesitance radiating off of her, but before she could get anywhere, he approached her.

     “(y/n)-chan, I’m sure Inosuke feels the same way—”

     “Tanjiro-kun,” (y/n) wasn’t sure where the sudden hesitance grew inside her. “I just... I need to figure some things out on my own before I...” She turned to spot Inosuke taking off his mask, growling at the blond. 

She gave him a soft smile, confusing the hell out of him, before walking back inside the estate. 

     “Where’s she going?” Inosuke asked, blinking at her retrieving figure.

Tanjiro turned to his friend, curious. 

     “What do you feel for (y/n)-chan, Inosuke?”

     “HAH?” 

     “That’s what I’ve been trying to get him to talk about! But he keeps tackling me!” Zenitsu yelled from the background.

     “What feel for her? She’s (y/n)!”

Tanjiro’s eyes widened almost comically at how Inosuke remembered her name so accurately. 

     “Why do you remember her name so well?”

     “She’s important!”

Tanjiro blinked some more, “Important how?”

Inosuke growled, losing interest in this conversation, “(y/n) is...” He couldn’t find her and that bothered him. He looked to where she had gone off to before frowning some more.

     “Inosuke,” Tanjiro’s soft voice broke his reverie. “Do you love her?”

He didn’t know what love was, but there were a few things Inosuke was sure of. Whenever he saw (y/n), he wanted to be around her more—just like the pair of wolves he had come across as a child. The male wolf would wind its neck under the female’s whenever it was cold, and it was something Inosuke saw himself doing with her, and no one else. He remembered the swans dancing around in the water with one another, attaching themselves by every inch of their feathers and Inosuke wanted nothing more than to learn how her skin felt against his. 

He recalled the group of monkeys that was led by a strong male and a fat female, which was fat because the male had given her his babies. One day, Inosuke dreamed of having little Inosuke babies with (y/n).

If this was what love was then what Inosuke felt for (y/n) was much, much more.

Growling, he ran off to where (y/n) might have gone, and noticed you sitting by the engawa. Taking off his mask, Inosuke sat beside her without warning, and noticed her red face. His eyes widened when he saw that expression on (y/n)—and all the thoughts he had were starting to vanish. Sure, the animals looked happy and did things he wanted to do, but no animal could compare to how beautiful she looked right then. He gulped before leaning closer to her, smelling her face—unsure of what to do at a time like this. Inosuke didn’t want to scare her, but he was confident that she would not be scared.

Zenitsu did not count a fourth thing that Inosuke would fall under if he was in love. The ability to change and adapt for a certain someone.

     “Inosuke, do you... do you know what love is?”

He didn’t, and he sure as hell was scared to tell her that he had no idea.

     “What I feel for you... I want to be around you all the time. I want to hold your hand and... and hold you in my arms and touch your hair—”

Inosuke grabbed (y/n)’s hand forcefully before placing it on his hair, but paused when he noticed her wince.

     “Did I hurt you?”

(y/n) smiled warmly, her heart beating rapidly as she shook her head, “I’m not sure if you know what love is, Inosuke...” 

He frowned, “I don’t know what to tell you.” 

He was an animal, born and raised in conditions that other people could have perhaps not survived. There was very little he knew about the ways of how human beings displayed affection. However, there was one way he was sure of—one way that could perhaps show her what he felt. Prove to her that whatever this love emotion was, it had nothing on him.

Because what Inosuke felt for (y/n) was far, far stronger than some stupid emotion.

He leaned forward and kissed her, grabbing the back of her hair. (y/n) had no idea where he had learned how to kiss, and even if he knew what this meant, but a second later, Inosuke’s tongue darted downwards to her neck, biting it lightly, marking the texture of her soft skin. His hand was firm behind her head and he pulled lightly, pressing her to him—before leaning back and capturing her lips again.

(y/n)’s eyes were wide and she was almost breathless; unsure of how to react, her hands slowly travelled to his hair and she buried her fingers in his hair, marvelling at how soft his locks were. She kissed back slowly, and did not miss the passion Inosuke brought forth with what he was doing. Once again, he pulled away before reaching her collarbone and biting lightly. The second (y/n) let out a soft moan, Inosuke stopped.

     “Do you feel warm?”

Her face rivalled a spider lily. Of course she felt warm!

Inosuke looked at her and smirked, “A male marks his female, in the mountains, this is how beasts mark their mates.”

(y/n)’s eyes widened. Mate? She blinked before grabbing his face and studying it, almost enthralled with what she had learned.

     “Inosuke, there is so much you need to learn!”

But, the second she thought of how his tongue travelled to her neck and collarbone, maybe, he didn’t have to learn much after all.

*

When Inosuke’s firstborn son turned out to be a bit timid, Inosuke acquired the ability—acting out on empathy. (y/n) watched him, hold his five-year old son after the boy had fallen off a small tree and hurt his knee.

     “This is going to sting,” Inosuke said, before putting some pressure on to the little boy’s wound, along with a raw medicine he had made to prevent any infection. 

The boy cried instantly, which caused Inosuke to turn to (y/n), who was cradling their third born daughter, with a smile on her face. He wouldn’t reveal to a great many people that watching his son wince and cry hurt his chest more than anything ever had, but watching (y/n) smile back at him, as he sat there with a smile on his face made him appreciate everything that was soft in the world.

He had stopped asking people to fight him because honestly, it turned exhausting. After having three children, Inosuke had had enough—he wanted to mellow down and sit back, smell his wife’s hair and watch their children grow. He often wondered how Tanjiro and the others were doing, and he thought of how the life in the city was not one for him at all. He hoped that their paths would cross one day, but turning to (y/n), as their youngest daughter cooed in (y/n)’s arms, Inosuke was at peace.

     “What are you staring at!? Fight me!”

Inosuke narrowed his eyes and turned to his three-year old girl, whose expressions and personality rivalled his own. He heard (y/n) chuckle from the back before ignoring her and getting up, grabbing the little girl by her ankle and having her dangle upside down.

     “This—”

     “Stop it, runt.” 

Oh, but he would not deny how much he adored that feisty little spirit of hers. She growled before pinching her father’s hold, causing him to abruptly let her go, as she landed on the ground with a ‘thud’. She got back up and rushed to her father, hands around his neck, Inosuke grumbling before picking her up. If only he had understood that his cries ‘fight me’ were a sign of being touch-starved, he’d have avoided a great many unnecessary fights.

     “Let me go—”

     “Shut up.”

Inosuke’s hand wrapped around his small daughter’s form before running it up and down on her back, calming her down. The child’s eyes widened before she quieted down, and returning her father’s embrace.

A small tug at his sleeve made him look at his son now, who gave him a needy look as well. Inosuke knelt down and picked up his boy, before hugging both of them, standing like a tree in the middle of the house.

     “Never thought you’d turn into such a softie, Inosuke!” (y/n) giggled, before expecting a shout or a loud comeback.

Instead, her eyes widened when she saw him smile at her, each hand cradling his children, as he watched her, with the softest eyes he could conjure.

Honestly, she could never let down the way he told her he loved her each day, not through words, not through mindless actions, but merely by looking at her like his entire life belonged to her. For a man raised in the mountains, Inosuke knew how to love better than the rest of humanity itself.

If only Zenitsu could see the man now, she thought, chuckling.

[iknowicanbutwhy]

Well I love your bkdk Miraculous au and I want all the answers. What's the Love Square like?

Oh friend, buddy, pal, you're askin' a big question here that this entire AU is gonna revolve around and I just made this up two nights ago.

But I gotchu.

TLDR; Bakugou likes Midoriya, Midoriya is wary of Bakugou, Chat Noir is insecure around Bug, Bug really likes Chat Noir. These relationships evolve as time goes on.

so. This ENTIRE AU is secretly a REVERSE LOVE SQUARE AU.

cue evil laughter.

A'ight, in order for y'all to understand this, I need you to know that Bakugou actually acts like his prototype version at school, because he's heavily... encouraged by his parents to maintain a pleasant attitude, and it's something he's practiced since sometime after he stopped interacting with Mido as a kid. Helps make photo shoots go faster, keeps his reputation smooth, you know. You'd think he wouldn't care at all, right? I partially blame the fan mail; it can be really horrible (cough cough thinking of Social Media 101 on AO3)

You also need to know that Baku and Mido were childhood friends in this AU; Baku hasn't had real friends since he stopped interacting with Mido all those years ago, so Mido hasn't left his memories, and Mido has more or less moved on and actually forgotten Baku's name and face.

Mido remembers him as Kacchan, of course, and as the kid that was really mean but also really ironically charismatic, leader-like, talented, and with enough self assurance that Mido was almost jealous. For another kid his age, Baku was impressive.

So of course Mido would not recognize his Kacchan AT ALL through the pleasant, fake attitude and lack of stark crudeness. As a matter of fact, it kind of pisses Mido off just how dishonest Baku seems, and it changes the context of whatever helpful thing Baku says. Instead of seeing Baku as socially awkward and mean yet helpful, he sees Baku as manipulative and using his knowledge to make others feel dumb and make himself feel superior.

The one (1) thing that convinced tiny child Mido that Kacchan wasn't all that bad was that he knew Kacchan was always just. Honest. Honestly calling you a dumbass, honestly helping you be less of a dumbass. Baku of the current day seems dishonest and is definitely rude.

Baku, though, does remember Mido. And he likes this dude that doesn't take shit from his "pleasant" persona. Baku, like his prototype, does maintain the same sunny aura, but unlike his prototype, he tends to insult people on purpose. He tells them off for how shitty their homework is because - he very astutely and accurately presumes - they spend 8 hours every night wasting their life on games instead of studying for at least 2 standard hours. He says all that as politely as he can force himself, but he doesn't really realize that it comes out so much worse that way.

Whenever Mido recognizes this - and eventually he keeps a permanent eye out - he jumps in to amend Baku's statements to the person who's feelings had just been trashed. At first, he'd pull Baku aside and tell him how rude he's being. Then, Mido'd just glare Baku's way. Then, when Baku eventually admits his ineptitude in just trying to get some idiot to stop ruining their own grades, Mido tries to explain how important feelings are and how saying things in a certain way is hurtful. He can't explain it perfectly, though, because he's no social engineer and no therapist. It's a slow and frustrating process for both of them.

But Baku honestly appreciates it. HATES that he needs to to learn how to play nice all over again just to give people advice they should honestly be thankful for already, but appreciates the balls and willingness Mido has to actually do something instead of just sulking or sitting by when things go wrong.

He won't admit it, but it's nice reconnecting with an old friend who liked him when he didn't wear a mask, who probably maybe likes him now behind the mask because Mido hasn't called on any teachers yet or turned the class against him, even if Mido acts fed up as heck. He likes to tease Mido with tiny bits of knowledge he still has on Mido from when they were kids, like things Mido likes and fears. Though it's not always accurate, when it works he gets to see Mido all flustered. He's wondering how long it'll take the dumbass to remember him.

OH MAN AND THAT'S ONLY HALF THE LOVE SQUARE. The next segment is quicker, though.

Bug is reminded of his Kacchan when it comes to Chat Noir, who acts like himself in-costume. he defends Chat Noir vehemently whenever accusations of being another villain are thrown around, and is still pretty desensitized from Kacchan's brand of crudeness so much that he sees the good in Chat's actions.

Chat Noir is honestly incredibly pissed whenever Bug takes the lead and HATES that the ladybug and chat noir miraculouses are tied together like they are. He gets more and more angry when Bug defends him against the accusations being thrown around, but once he gets out of that delusion of his that Bug thinks he's better than Chat and that nobody can really like his asshole (true) persona, he starts to honestly appreciate it. For a while, he wondered if Bug only kept him around to keep an eye on him, like he really was a villain. It hurt more than he let on.

Beyond any of the drama, when they just get lost in each other, they get along pretty well. Patrols can be really fun and chill.

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

hi I'm back again. Anyways; as always you don't have to answer if you don't wish! How do you think the residents would react to a young Pureblood MC? (I'm talking about young like a minor.) With that Gen Z in a nutshell personality. Obviously no romantic feelings, just in your opinion how do you think they'd react? all of my questions are just "coincidentally" oddly specific aren't they, totally

Oh shit whaddup I love the idea of Gen Z MC!!! Young pureblood it is, here we go! I’m going to be moving from the assumption that they’re like Comte/Leo; very sympathetic to humanity and sometimes have existential crises (trauma babeyyyyyyyyy). As such, I’ll also be assuming she’s not super close to her family given she rejects the larger vampiric hierarchy/superiority paradigm, memes and modernity, all that jazz

I hope this fits the bill! c:

Under a cut bc is a lonnnnnnng boi~ Click after Napo to see everyone else’s! No explicit triggers that I’m aware of, but if anybody sees anything I missed feel free to let me know

Comte’s reaction:

Absolute baby, he has decided this is his grandchild--no he will not change his mind or take constructive criticism. Get’s ESPECIALLY concerned when he starts to see signs of that “nothing in life matters 😎” nihilism, but doesn’t pester them about it or becomes naggy. Growing up he had similar issues with the prospect of eternal life surrounded by creatures with a mortal lifespan, so he doesn’t judge. He’s more like nah we all hit that vibe, let’s see if we can get their mind off it c: I feel like Gen Z really understand and appreciate the importance of culture and art, so I feel like they would bond a ton over trips to museums/plays/concerts! Invites them to tea time if he ever sees them particularly silent (ah yes, repression) or particularly tired, and does his best to ensure their safety without being intrusive (has briefed the men to escort/accompany her as needed, though Sebas usually does it).

If he sees fangs out around baby he will thrash the shit out of the perpetrator--unless it’s an accident. No excuses. That’s a child. Doesn’t give a FUCK if they’re another pureblood even with all the arranged marriage bullshit. He said what he said. (Remember that biting between vampires or vampire + human relations is considered something that’s only done between intimate partners, so he is having none of that for a minor)

Leonardo’s reaction:

Also certified granddad, but he’s the one that enables shenanigans and is just like “oh worm” when it comes to the existential dread (it’s a Tuesday). At first though Leo is basically that meme like: (Stupidman = Leo, Maddie = MC)

Not all purebloods are necessarily dangerous, but most are either incredibly indifferent to the plight of others (especially humans) or actively range from like playing social mind games to being sociopathic murderers/etc. the list goes on. As such, Leonardo is suspicious to no end until he sees that the kid really doesn’t have any ill will in her. She jokes with Sebas (they quote vines on the daily) and works with him normally; even when Leo asks Sebas he’s just “????? bro she’s just my kouhai, thanks for worrying tho”. One day he’s tasked with escorting her to grab groceries and assorted things for the mansion, and she freezes in place before bolting across the street. Turns out she saw a kid trip in the road and fall, and a carriage was moving fast from the other side--it likely wasn’t going to be able to stop. She scoops up the kid and holds them close, and when the parents try to thank her profusely she just seems more uncomfortable with the praise than triumphant. She didn’t want the kid to get hurt. If she could do something about it, it was as simple as that.

From that point on they’re hella chill and hang out together, usually just bonding in silence. If they’re an artist, he’ll offer them pointers and technique manuals--will help however he can. If not, they’ll just be reading together in the library now and again. If she falls asleep, he’ll tuck her in and watch over her (cue red eye meme when the door opens, but then it’s just Vincent so he c:). He’ll often pay close attention to her eating habits to make sure nothing’s amiss with her health since she’s still a growing pureblood. If she struggles with what she is a lot (given she’s sympathetic to human beings) he’ll synchronize his Rouge drinking with hers to make sure she doesn’t starve herself ;-;. Even if she’s just forgetful about drinking/eating, he’ll do what he can to make her life easier (that’s how he shows his affection uwu)

He will, of course, also tease her about being a baby until she kicks him in the shin while Comte sighs and tells him to knock it off with a smack upside the head

Napoleon’s reaction:

Not granddad energy, but you better believe he’s in a weird territory between sheer admiration and “I am your older brother now, eat your vegetables” “But I don’t even need vegetables” “Eat your vegetables and I’ll take you to a crepe shop” “............deal” 

Basically it’s unlikely MC is super close to her siblings or even has any (pureblood children are a rare feat) so she’s like......wary, but then she just ???? this is.....kinda nice? Just having somebody that cares in a chill way, but still fully encourages her to throw men across the street if they’re hurting women/children (high fives her every time). He’ll often invite her to the swordplay lessons with the kids alongside Isaac’s teaching; she’s free to join in the learning, or honestly just hang out with people closer to her age (he’s v concerned about her having friends that she can relate to and talk to freely). 

Protective in a subtle way, like Leonardo. Escorts her places and helps her carry groceries without fail when Sebas is running other errands. She becomes his crepe shop cover buddy whenever he has an intense hankering for sweets: “wanna go to that crepe shop around the corner” “you’re just too chicken to go alone, fool” “do you want crepes or not nunuche” “............BOKBOKBOK” “aight that’s it **gives her a noogie**” (they go anyway and have a marvelous time rating the crepes from best to worst, they got a whole list goin’) 

Glares Arthur down if he so much as LOOKS in her direction

Mozart’s reaction:

Mozart is just the “what is with this sassy, lost child?” meme. Doesn’t dislike them, but they are just not remotely threatened by his haughty disdain by any extension. And he HATES IT. The MC is always just “Okay, boomer” and he just ?????? He doesn’t know what it means but it’s openly dismissive, so he mad.

Like idk if y’all know this meme, but it’s the same energy as:

It’s only when he notices she’s always punctual and careful with his requests that he starts to warm up. For example, she makes him a mocha by combining the way he likes his coffee and hot cocoa to perfection when he falls asleep at his piano. (She feels bad for him after Comte explains because--though he’s got a stick up his butt--he’s clearly distressed in his new surroundings ;-; Plus, the kind of perfectionism Mozart exudes is an extension of internalized shame, and when she begins to see that she really shifts her approach.) As such, he begins to soften to her presence. He begins to see that she isn’t indifferent to his existence, it’s more that she sees no need for intimidation and believes admiration is earned (basic respect isn’t a privilege, it’s a right). When he figures that out, he stops being so barbed and terse--starts to relax. Offers to let her stay and listen to his pieces if she wants, and she’s honestly touched given his clear struggle with vulnerability. Cuddles with Schelm at the window as he plays, and they become good friends. 

As a result, Mozart becomes fiercely protective despite her sturdier nature as a pureblood and has hissed venom at Arthur about the fact that she is off fucking limits. Doesn’t leave her alone in the same room as the other men unless it’s with Jeanne or Comte; he don’t trust like that.

Arthur’s reaction:

Sweating a lot at the sudden collection of baleful eyes sticking to his back everywhere he goes, but figures he brought it on himself to an extent. That being said, he can’t really get a word in edgewise given she just walks away when he tries to engage in conversation or compliment her.

Tough nut to crack this one, but he doesn’t let it discourage him. The only way she’ll give him the time of day is to play chess--and she kicks his ass soundly every single time. He’s fascinated by her extensive analytic ability, but she keeps silent about her strategies and thinking. Dazai and Theo always love to watch him get his ass handed to him, but he considers it a really interesting experience; it gives him insight into her mind, no matter how much she tries to hide. Patient, efficient, brutal--this kid has seen some shit, probably.

It’s after that point he just concedes she probably won’t let him in, though it doesn’t diminish his curiosity about the future; and perhaps traces of dread. What does the future look like for both her and Sebastian to be that stoic and aloof? It worries him...

Vincent’s reaction:

Vincent is v v impressed by her sense of self, and honestly sees a lot of Theo in her. She’s a little more reticent than Theo, but she has this same commitment to protecting the vulnerable and penetrating through the lies/shitty convictions of others. She is not a person who bends easily, but even so there’s a quiet kind of gentleness to her: she always chats to him v calmly, asks if he needs anything and is doing okay, doesn’t get impatient when he drops things or forgets his apron for the laundry. I think he would respond very positively to her presence, even if it wasn’t intentional. He just brightens up like a little sun and asks her out to picnics for fun; he has no greater intention than enjoying her smile and silly antics (he doesn’t always understand the references, but the way she executes it with so much dry wit--like Theo--makes him laugh). He just feels the warmth of family/familiarity around her ;~;

Ironically, they’re both exceedingly concerned for the other because they’re too self-sacrificing jkashlgdks like this is 100% a case of “I can’t let a young lady risk getting hurt” “Vincent I’m literally indestructible please just let me do this” “But it still hurts” “But I don’t want you to scar--” (This conversation extends so long that the author felt it would be more beneficial to add an etc. here). 

He admires her and trusts in her abilities more due to the nature of her maturity, treats her like a cherished friend and sometimes younger sibling (not condescending but very indulgent; gives her the last of his sweets for example, or pats her on the head when she’s feeling gloomy--more of a wholesome puts her first). But make no mistake, he will throw hands in milliseconds if she gets ganged up on or can’t handle a threat--he just lets her handle most things bc she’s capable~

Isaac’s reaction:

Torn. Because on the one hand, she’s very serious and conscientious about her work--doesn’t want to inconvenience or trouble anyone--and he relates to that heavy.

HOWEVER.

She’s also got insanely chaotic energy when the mood strikes, so when Dazai starts doing his random shitfuckery you better believe MC is upping the ante. (I’m talking AH. ENSLAVED MOISTURE. levels). So Isaac essentially oscillates between thankful for her fortitude to bashing his head against a table for every second he knows her.

In all seriousness though, I would see Isaac as being pretty concerned. Like Vincent, they’re both self-sacrificing to a fault--and he doesn’t want that for her, especially given how young she is. Often tells her not to overdo it or to ask for help if she looks overwhelmed, though it’s not condemning; he says it softly with a neutral look on his face. (He considers it a Certified Mood^TM). He just wants to give back all the care she puts into helping around the house. He doesn’t feel right watching a kid work so hard without reminding her that she should find time to have fun and live for herself too. There will be plenty of time when she’s older to get serious.

He has a fairly easy time interacting with her because of his experience with kids; he takes her seriously (when she’s not clowning) and treats her autonomy with respect. If anything, she’s probably the protective one. She knows he’s an aberrant so she pays laser attention to when he’s suffering and brings him Rouge (not scared because she’s stronger than him and not human lmao, and she sees no need to put Sebastian at risk). When that uni pres pesters him, she goes cold and angry and asks the man to step off when she sees him start to downspiral. They’re essentially on equal footing (he has more life experience, she has more bodily strength/confidence). They're just chill and kind with each other (babies of the mansion, beloved by all).

Theodorus' reaction:

Because he is a manchild, he will be chill/generally indifferent until Vincent starts being indulgent with her (bro-con). He won't be violent or anything like that, but he will pout a storm and try to verbally shoo her away. Because she's a woman, intelligent, and likely a feminist--this will become hilarious because she will not remotely take him seriously. She will just ignore him or roast him in seconds before moving on with her day. Otherwise he doesn't care much because he doesn't have time to play babysitter (unless there's no one else to help).

At the most, he'll make sure she's safe and use the excuse that Vincent would be upset if he did anything less. If she likes/loves dogs and plays with King while she's there, he'll soften up and thank her for taking care of him. If she makes hella pancakes, he'll be the proudest about it--ruffling her hair. If she protects Vincent in any capacity, he'll be torn between jealous, grateful and impressed; he likes a kid that can hold their own and take responsibility within their abilities.

So their relationship is v much like a chill uncle with their niece; fond, but not necessarily super close or spend a ton of time together. He has his priorities, but he won't be an asshat (mostly).

Jeanne's reaction:

Jeanne is confused on so many levels. He doesn't dislike her spunk he's just staggered by her level of sheer reckless, righteous rage. (And he's a bit wary in the face of another pureblood as a potential enemy) but after a bit more time around her he relaxes. She's fairly simple to understand when you get to know her; cares about others to a fault, existential dread, overworks herself. Stays watchful, but he just treats her like the younger kids that Napoleon brings by the weapons shop when they need armor for practice. It can get a little funny because he’ll just be like “uhhhh uh kids like sweet stuff right? Here have some of the macaroons somebody brought by earlier, I don’t like ‘em that much anyway.” And she just “??? Thanks???” He doesn’t mind being around her, just doesn’t really know what to say so they often fall into comfortable silence after exchanging small talk. She likes that he isn’t complicated; what you see is what you get with Jeanne. It’s nice not to have to keep her guard up every second of the day,

When he sees her feeling particularly down, he’ll take her to that little field of white lilies behind the mansion during a full moon night. The silver light seems to make the petals emit an ethereal glow, and she makes him a flower crown in thanks. He listens kindly if she wants to talk, and if she doesn’t--that’s okay too; he’ll just give her a head pat.

Honestly he finds a lot of relief in the fact that she's a pureblood, because he feels less nervous about her being fragile or her getting fatally hurt when he’s not around. Will still be very gentle with her and protect her when she’s in proximity

Mission Status: Fucking Wholesome

Dazai’s reaction:

Big brother time? It’s big brother time!!!! He instantly makes it his subtle mission to look after her, though he’s v lowkey abt it. She takes one look at this depressed mofo climbing in through the window and just goes “aw yeah, this guy FUCKS” and they become besties at a glance. They basically make a game out of who can be the most absurd whenever they’re in the same room. Comte and Leo find it utterly hilarious, Napoleon is digging a grave for Isaac in the backyard (we all know his heart won’t be able to take it. Mozart is probably next. A moment of silence for our fallen.)

I just imagine them like that one post (@/acoolguy):

Dazai: You ever have to shake your leg because there’s a rock in it? MC: That’s your bones Dazai: Every day I learn some more

He’ll always share treats with her and brings her along for walks if she’s feeling wanderlust; he knows how hard it can be, how restless the heart becomes so far from home. He does his best to distract her with their ongoing jokes, but one day it starts raining very suddenly while they’re out. He rushes her under the nearest tree with broad, broad leaves and settles his haori/overcoat over her head. He looks incredibly serious as he looks to the sky--almost glowering at the dark clouds gathering, He doesn’t look at all like his usual fun-loving self in that split second, even though he’s back to his good-natured chirping “Guess we’ll just have to wait out the downpour. MC, are you cold? I should have been more careful.” She shakes her head and shares the coat with him, holding it out insistently until he relents. Their hands brush and she notices they’re freezing, but she doesn’t say anything. She seems to sense he has a lot on his mind, and leans her shoulder against his. The silence feels fragile; she doesn’t want to risk shattering it--shattering him. It is often said that it is an act of great courage to wipe away someone’s tears. But it can also be an act of great gentleness to turn away, to pretend one cannot see them fall (whether visible or not).

One day, after MC returns to her own time, Dazai returns to his room to find two shadows hanging from his window. Though a little crude--they’ve obviously been made by a beginner--it’s clear what they are. Rain ghosts. (Sebastian later explains it was MC’s wish that he have them, and Dazai only smiles very, very gently in response.)

Shakespeare’s reaction:

MC gets one look at him and knows something’s off. She can’t quite tell what it is, but he doesn’t feel like the rest of the family. She can sense something behind him, something lurking; but she can’t quite place it. (Comte has mentioned before that purebloods can sense each other, so I imagine MC knows right off the bat he isn’t a normal sired vampire--she just doesn’t know enough to identify exactly what it is.)

That being said, she is sus. He keeps talking like some kind of weird ass court jester/fae, and she hated his work when she had to do it for school (only enjoyed the Hamlet memes because, let’s be real, that shit is uproarious). When he tries to coax her to see Vlad with him, she says “'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, yet you cannot play upon me.” And he just freezes in place before he starts laughing. Considers their battle of wills well-played, and warns her not to go out alone--doesn’t bother her again. Though sometimes enjoys listening to her conversations with others for good roast material. (No he is not taking notes, no this new chara is just fire and feral for no good reason--nothing to do with MC)

Sebastian’s reaction:

The l o r e, MC. Give him the forbidden pureblood lore. Will be incredibly curious and ask about what vampires are like outside of the mansion, for science of course. If he senses discomfort though his questions will die down completely--it’s not his intention to make her uncomfortable. He’s just curious! 

Despite his stoicism he’s actually a very, very understanding and warm person.  Will listen to any teenage jadedness or hopelessness with fond patience, recalling the days he was similar. He’ll offer what advice he can. He’s not one to be preachy, but if he sees someone at a loss, he’ll offer what he thinks might be a productive direction for them. Given her removal from her home and parents--even though she’s already well into high school--he’ll sympathize deeply with her position. Will be a firm but gentle guardian (hello Mansion Mom #2), offers her candy every time she does a chore exceptionally well or offers assistance without prompting. She’s sus and takes it reluctantly at first, but after she tries one in private secretly loves them. Sebas is just silently “you like krabby patties don’t you, squidward”. If she’s honest, she’s comforted by the sense of normalcy and care he gives, the harmless joking and easy respect for others (unless otherwise provoked).

When she finds out about his hobby considers him to be a Fucking Nerd^TM and wants to shove him into a locker, but in reality is endeared by how much he genuinely cares about the men. She thinks it’s a harmless fascination, and she senses the oddest...ephemerality about him. Because of this, she becomes pretty protective; he’s a human and he’s too nice for his own good. While she identifies in one sense, she worries in another. Pureblood are sturdy, but humans can’t necessarily sustain that kind of constant self-giving for long...

Also bc my tag game too strong adding it here: #i love the prospect of pureblood MC trying to bring Sebas and Napo together #MC: bruh i got this #Sebas, full of gay panic: wait, MC nO--

Meme tl;dr in the tags also for your enjoyment! I’m sorry this one took a little longer than most to finish!

[bright-eststar]

Okay, Prodigal Son rant (kind of) -

I’ve been reading a lot of complaints about the piece-work, superficial portrayals of certain characters on the show (i.e. Edrissa) and this! is! so! legit! Keiko (♥️) does her best with her, but the writers seem to be getting lazy, esp. with Malcolm’s reactions to Edrissa in recent episodes being put off/annoyed/bewildered. I always felt like they had this sort of easy, nerd-out potential as friends because I thought the writers were taking a very Derek Morgan-Penelope Garcia type of route with them. In all honesty, I never saw them as a romantic pairing (no hate if you do), simply because I just saw them growing into a very familial, comfortable pair. In my head, it makes sense - Malcolm and Edrissa both have problems with social interactions (i.e. both of them are awkward af at times and have no idea what social cues are lmao), which is fine because I can see them finding common ground there. I’m also not keen on them romantically because from the very beginning (as someone else said), I’ve felt that Malcolm has been written to be ‘superior’ to Edrissa (arguably, I feel like the writers always kind of downplay all of the other characters on the show so that Malcolm can be right), and idk, I’d honestly rather see Edrissa growing into a more independent, more confident character rather than being strung along with Malcolm because people have some misguided impression that if Malcolm-Edrissa happen, that will give her character more dues or depth.

I think it also needs to be said for the record that if you think about it, Dani, JT and Ainsley don’t actually have as much backstory as we would like. We either get episodes full of Dani, or long droughts where we have her say three lines, frown/smile and call it a day. Almost everything we know about her character (which is pretty much that she was in Narcotics, went undercover and had a drug problem) has been used more as a plot device for something Malcolm/Brightwell related. We literally know next to nothing about JT too. He has a wife, is an ex-pat and that’s about it. Same with Ainsley - which is the reason I feel like people give her character a lot more hate than she deserves - simply because the writing for her character is so, so inconsistent.

Moral of the story - we all love Malcolm, and we can all agree that the writers are doing a brilliant job with his character. What’s concerning is the lack of effort and inconsistencies that are so obviously present in the other characters. Hopefully, the writers will address this, sooner rather than later!

[l0uk45]

If students from class 1A and 1B were part of the Riordanverse:

Yuga Aoyama: Son of Aphrodite. Not even a good one, unless you need someone blinded by his glitter-gun. Oh yeah, he has a glitter gun with lasers for maximum flare. Is he completely over-the-top? Absolutely. But is he good in a fight? Surprisingly, yes.

Mina Ashido: Daughter of Hermes and legacy of Hecate, capable of inhuman movements and can produce a slime that magically dissolves anything. She also tattooed her eyes black and yellow for some weird masochistic reason.

Tsuyu Asui: She’s a frog-turned-human by Ochako. She still has her tongue, leaps, hops, camouflage, a reversible stomach and poison that can kill a group of whales. And he can still inflate her throat like a balloon, which makes for good scares.Very good scares…

Tenya Iida: Son of Mercury, he never skips leg day. Never. Seriously, have you seen those legs? He could crush a car with those puppies! Or crush monster heads! Which he does do quite often! He doesn’t skimp out on upper body exercises either, but LOOK AT THOSE LEGS OF THUNDER!

Ochako Uraraka: Daughter of Hecate, she specializes in a set of spells that manipulate an individual object’s or being’s gravitational pull. It’s gotten to the point where she makes anything she touches with five fingers on one hand, it will float, no matter what, which is why she wears gloves all the time.

Mashirao Ojiro: Son of Mars, he’s an expert martial artist and very, very good at multiple of them. He’s lost multiple sparring partners because of his profinity with a number of weapons, and his lethality without any weapons.

Denki Kaminari: Legacy of Zeus and Apollo, each by about 50 generations. About as bright as his godly ancestors (not very), but he still makes one Hel of a lightning bolt, and he’s also pretty good with a guitar and lyre. 

Eijiro Kirishima: Son of Vulcan, his blood and skin are pure liquid gold, bronze and diamond he can infinitely harden for a period of time. It also obtains unnaturally sharp edges, and given his tendency to go hard when excited, he has made his friends frequent the infirmary for cuts and broken ribs.

Koji Koda: Son of Actaedon, he can talk with wildlife. He’s also a Legacy of Heracles, hence his size. His hugs are nice, war and gentle.

Rikido Sato: Son of Mars, this guy has a serious sweet tooth. He’s also surprisingly gentle for a guy that can decimate an opponent with a single hit.

Mezo Shoji: Son of Ares, he’s surprisingly level-headed. And malicious. Seriously, this guy always has at least ten different weapons on him, on top of him knowing a variety of potentially lethal moves. His arms are known as the Anacondas for a reason.

Kyoka Jiro: Daughter of Apollo, she’s a top-tier musician, singer and is moderate with a bow and arrow. She can whistle in the ultrasonic range, clap like thunder, sing and play like either a sweet little bird or a whole-ass heavy metal choir without ruining her vocal cords, and she gives the opposite amount of fucks that Zeus does (ie. zero).

Hanta Sero: Son of Hermes, he inherited a pair of magical tape dispensers that can dispense any tape in any amount of any properties he chooses. He uses them to swing around like Spider-Man, which made him a regular visitor of the infirmary until Momo made him a special harness to keep his joints from dislocating. 

Fumikage Tokoyami: Son of Erebos, he suffers from split-personality disorder, but it’s fixed nicely by his inner demon incarnate made of pure darkness he calls Dark Shadow. They have a strangely healthy relationship for a boy and his literal inner demon.

Shoto Todoroki: A Legacy, descendant of Hel and Surtr, capable of making ice that freezes fire, and fire that burns ice. He gives so little shit he’s actually oblivious to social cues, which makes for more than a few funny moments on quests with him.

Toru Hagakure: Legacy of Iris, she can manipulate light around her to turn invisible or project bright flashes

Katsuki Bakugou: Son of Ares, with rage and instincts of war so strong and powerful he can convert his sheer rage into explosions in the palms of his hands. He generated more than one explosion with the explosive yield of a nuclear weapon in his life. How he hasn’t gone deaf yet is beyond most people, though he does still know a variety of sign languages.

Izuku Midoriya: A mortal, capable of seeing through the mist, was gifted the Spartan Spirit, a spirit formed by Kratos, Nike, Bia and Zelus, to protect humanity in its greatest times of need. He ends up breaking his bones an absolute shitton, and is a regular at the infirmary.

Minoru Mineta: Died on a quest. His quest-mates say ‘by accident’. Everyone knows it was very deliberate, but then again, everyone hated him and is fine with him dead. Some people wanted to be the ones to kill him though.

Momo Yaoyorozu: A Legacy, granddaughter of Hephaestus and Athena, capable of making virtually any machine. She’s also very fidgety, and once made an entire army of fully autonomous grass soldiers that went on to terrorize the other campers for a bit. In thirty minutes.

Class 1B:

Yosetsu Awase: Son of Hephaestus, he also likes to make stuff. Though mostly he combines already existing tools, gadgets and machines, and makes weird amalgamations. He once fused an automaton bull, an automaton dragon and a school bus, and it actually works.

Sen Kaibara: Son of Ares, he’s pretty chill compared to his kin (especially Katsuki and Setsuna), mainly due to him bottling up his anger. Which he can unleash as tornadoes around his limbs, which he can use to drill through walls. Thank gods he doesn’t lose it too often.

Togaru Kamakiri: Son of Ceres, he likes farming tools. Especially ones with blades. That’s lead to him using all kinds of sickles, scythes (both farming tools and war scythes) and even a few lawn mowers, shovels, axes...

Shihai Kuroiro: Son of Nyx, him and Tokoyami get along exceptionally well. Given his ability to shadow-travel and use shadows and darkness as materials to make some pretty nifty weapons only he can use.

Itsuka Kendo: Daughter of Athena, she excels in critical thinking and a variety of martial arts. And knocking out her piers with precise attacks when they start to get exceptionally annoying.

Yui Kodai: Daughter of Trivia. She excels in potions and spells that manipulate the size of objects, so much so that she has to resort to gloves because she now naturally makes things smaller with her left hand, or bigger with her right hand. She’s the calm one.

Kinoko Komori: Daughter of Demeter, she has a soft spot for fungi and mushrooms. Which she can make grow rapidly. Very rapidly. She’s fun at parties.

Ibara Shiozaki: Daughter of Demeter, she dyes her hair green with actual chlorophyll for some reason (“To feel one with the beautiful plants,” she says), but she can also grow and manipulate vines and other vine-like plants, along with trees, quite effectively, and she has some rose and poison oak (she’s immune to it) seeds in her hair. Don’t ask, her answers are just as ridiculous as the chlorophyll-dyed hair.

Jurota Shishida: Son of Mars, he’s been cursed by most likely Hera to be a humanoid boar/dog thing. He’s especially good at wrestling, and is very diplomatic in his approach. Until he gets pissed, then he charges like a boar and yes, he keeps those tusks of his sharp on a regular basis.

Niregeki Shoda: Legacy of Hermes, son of Hephaestus, he likes to make explosives and plant them everywhere. More than a few campers were scared. Except Katsuki, who tried to outdo the ground (Niregeki’s mine) in explosive yield and put skylight access in the roof of Bunker 9. Niregeki had to repair it.

Pony Tsunotori: Legacy of Poseidon, she can shapeshift. She likes to shapeshift into horses, bulls, deer and goats (including mooses and buffalo), and she has a nifty gadget from the Hephaestus and Vulcan campers in the shape of horns that transform with her, giving her detachable remote-control horns. 

Kosei Tsuburaba: Legacy of Jupiter, son of Ares, he’s competitive and can make walls and blades out of air. Especially annoying for monsters because they can’t get to him, period, and every time they try, they don’t get past his walls of air for a whole minute before someone either cuts/hacks/slices them to bits, freezes/burns them alive, blows them up with their fists/explosives/expanding stones they previously ingested or some other way of disposing a monster.

Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu: Son of Vulcan, capable of turning to pure steel over his entire body, also increasing his strength. Because of this, and his tendency to go hard whenever he’s excited, he’s made his friends frequent the infirmary for bruises and broken ribs.

Setsuna Tokage: Daughter of Ares, she’s actually been hurt pretty badly in one of her fights (she went on a Quest with Katsuki, and no, it wasn’t him who hurt her) and had to have automaton grafts to replace her limbs, a part of her lower jaw, her eyes and the muscles around her spine, along with parts of the vertebrae. Which she asked to be detachable and splittable in as many pieces as possible, which she can control telepathically and uses to troll other campers. A lot. Especially two certain sons of Vulcan.

Manga Fukidashi: No one knows what he is, they just know his head is a speech bubble and he can make anything he writes real.

Juzo Honenuki: Legacy of Gaia, he can virtually liquify the ground (does not work on metal or wooden floors). He trolls a lot with this ability. And I do mean a lot.

Kojiro Bondo: A golem? A person? His head makes it hard to tell whether he’s a demigod or a monster to be honest. And his glue-like spit doesn’t help much either.

Neito Monoma: Legacy of, you guessed it, Zeus! He has a superiority complex because of this, and he frequents the infirmary on the basis of Itsuka or whoever he was annoying KOing him constantly. All that brain damage probably isn’t helping his mental issues...

Reiko Yanagi: Daughter of Hecate she can make things she touches float and fly around using some sort of incantation. The biggest she can do is double her own body weight, but that doesn’t stop her from delivering high-speed flying punches and scaring other campers.

Hiryu Rin: Son of Mars and Legacy of Poseidon, he can shapeshift into various animals. Most notably a mix of human, hedgehog and a lizard. Sharp, painful and deadly precise. And also meditating. And a lot of it.

[exkernal]

My Only Peace: 3/?

William insists he stay the night, and after a token protest, Nelson agrees. To his surprise, William leads him to his old bedroom.

"But it's the master," he says, confused. "It should be yours."

"Didn't feel right," Will mutters, and that's all the explanation he'll give.

It's exactly as Nelson left it two years ago, with one notable addition on the mantelpiece: a framed photograph of the original Minutemen at the height of their glory.

Nelson stares at the youthful faces of his comrades. They're all old or dead or disgraced now. He sees his younger self, brimming with confidence that bordered on the absurd, standing close to Hooded Justice, who looked like a god among men. Even in the black and white photograph, his desire for closeness is obvious. How he couldn't resist the back pats and shoulder clasps, or any of the other myriad of socially acceptable touches that always lingered a little too long.

Little wonder that their relationship became an open secret among the Minutemen.

Nelson sinks into the old familiar bed, but he already knows he'll have trouble sleeping that night. After all, this was the very place where he and Will made love for the first time.

"Making love" was probably not the right term for it. He'd lusted after William from the moment he first appeared in the New York Gazette. At first he told himself that it was simply admiration, but it was the beginnings of a school boy crush, the kind that used to keep him awake at night in the boarding school dormitory, intrigued and disturbed at the same time.

After his brief meeting at the Reeves' home, he reached two conclusions: that young Officer Reeves was not a simple courier but Hooded Justice himself, and that there was a spark between them.

He cautioned himself. He'd become quite adept at recognizing the subtle cues that men put out, but he'd been wrong before. One of those wrongs resulted in a black eye and cracked rib, which he passed off to his fellow Marines as the result of a drunken fall after a night partying. Luckily, the other officer was too embarrassed to tell their superior, or else Nelson would've lost more than his pride.

It goes without saying that Will wasn't what he expected--and truthfully, Nelson's only experiences with black people were as servants--but it didn't take long for him to fall head over heels.

To stave off the early morning awkwardness, Will suggests they go out to brunch. The diner is similar to their old meeting place, though slightly more upscale. IT reminded him, bitterly, of their last conversation together.

Don't think about that now, he tells himself. Not when William is actually speaking to him.

"Don't worry," Will mutters, opening up a newspaper. "If anyone asks, we're two retired cops catching up."

Nelson bristles a little. "I'm not worried."

And he's not. There was a time when that's all he'd be thinking about, but those days are long gone.

"Isn't that your friend?" Will says, jabbing at a black and white photo of Adrian Veidt. "Ozy-man-mouthful-of-a-name?"

He snorts. "I wouldn't call him a friend exactly. We've barely spoken since my, uh, bout of foolishness in '66."

The waitress brings them their coffee. Nelson doesn't wait for the scalding beverage to cool off. He's too eager to do something with his hands.

"Speaking of Veidt," he says, "he told me an interesting theory about you."

"Oh yeah?" Will raises an eyebrow.

"He investigated Hooded Justice's disappearance before I ever formed the Crimebusters. Apparently, it led him straight to Eddie Blake. Eddie mistook him for a criminal, and beat him up."

William chuckles. "You don't say."

A smile twists at Nelson's lips. "Adrian concluded, based on your documented feud, that Eddie killed you back in '55."

His expression darkens. "As if that sniveling little pissant  could ever get the drop on me. I should've snapped his worthless neck after he attacked Sally."

"That probably would've been for the best," Nelson agrees. "I thought it best to let Adrian believe his theory--after all, you don't want the worlds smartest man on your case. "

"More like the world's best PR man," Will mutters.

Nelson clears his throat. "Have you read Hollis's book?"

"Might've skimmed it in an airport," he says breezily. "Why?"

"According to Hollis, you were an East German strong man with, um, strange proclivities whose body was found in Boston Harbor in 1955."

Will's whole body shook when he laughed. Making Will genuinely laugh-- not a wry chuckle or sardonic snort, but a real honest to God laugh-- was so rare that Nelson always savored the sound like it was the New York orchestra. He joins in.

The waitress brings them their plates of bacon and eggs, and their laughter dies down.

"It's funny how they all thought my costume was some sex thing," William says, voice light, but there's a slight menace to his words. "Think that says more about them than me."

He's dying to ask William the meaning behind his costume. That was one thing they never discussed during their relationship. Yet he hesitates. Maybe they didn't discuss it for a reason.

"Nothing against Hollis," Will goes on, "but he never knew when to keep his mouth shut."

"I had to call him on the verge of tears to stop him from publishing more details about...about us," Nelson says. It hadn't been the verge of tears, but William doesn't need to know that.

He and Will rarely broached the topic of "us," never defining the relationship that consumed Nelson's life for sixteen years. They had to keep it secret, for one. For another, Will was a married father for most of it. Friendship is what he called it in his will. "He was a very good friend," is how he explained it whenever anyone questioned him about Hooded Justice. He always hated it, just a little bit, but that hatred paled in comparison to the terror of being found out.

Will frowns. "Yeah. Sally wasn't too happy with some of the stuff he said."

"Mm," Nelson goes. "That's a bit of a pot-kettle situation. Sally basically outed me in her latest interview, without naming any names. It's was still abundantly clear who she meant, though."

"She probably didn't think it mattered, since we all thought you were dead." Will says that last part with an edge to his voice.

"I don't really blame Sally," he says, eager to avoid that conversation again. Keep it light, Nelly. "Did I use that term correctly? Outed?"

"How should I know?" Will says through a mouthful of eggs.

"You're the one who lived in San Francisco."

"Yeah, but I wasn't hanging around that scene. Not that much, anyway. I know as much about the counterculture as you do."

Nelson feels warm, and it has nothing to do with his coffee (which is lukewarm now, anyway). He has no claim on Will's heart, and it certainly isn't his business if he's had any dalliances (Lord knows Nelson hasn't refrained). Still. He's glad all the same.

Will glances at the window. "You know, it's a good thing for the young ones coming up. That they have a community that's putting up a fight. Maybe it won't be as hard for them as it was for us."

He's surprised that Will's bringing it up. This is the closest he's ever heard his former lover come to acknowledging that he was a man involved with men. Not that he ever expected him to; after all, Nelson rarely verbalized it either, thanks to his years of keeping it secret. Even now, as an old nameless man with nothing left to lose, he couldn't completely let go of his fear.

"Yes," he mumbles, "it is."

Will insists on paying. "Technically it's your money," Will says when Nelson resists. Now that brunch is over, he's not sure what to do with himself. At the diner, they had a good report going. But now what happens when there's nothing to do? Will William come to his senses and get sick of the tag-along?

"Wanna see how I spent your money?" Will asks. They journey through New York's mobbed streets, as much an adventure as his days soldiering through the jungle.

Will explains that he auctioned off the Minutemen memorabilia  for the Southern Poverty Law Center. "That was a good idea that you had," he comments, "so I did it. Altogether, it came too nearly a million."

William doesn't mention the one piece of memorabilia he's kept, so Nelson doesn't either.

They stop at a grand old movie theater, the kind that was popular when Nelson was a boy. It looks as if it's been recently touched up, casting an impressive figure. William looks at him expectantly.

"You bought a theater?" Nelson says. Well, it makes sense; Will was always a cinephile.

"And fixed it up," he says proudly. "When I first started working here, it was a dump. Now it's the most profitable historical theater in the borough."

William gives him the tour.

"We play all kinds of films here. The modern stuff, but we also show classics. There's theme nights, too. Some of the kids get all dressed up for some of the showings, but I don't know much about that. If we hurry, there's a showing I want you to see."

William takes him to a projector room. There's a smattering of people in the theater below, maybe a dozen scattered along the wide rows. A young white man with wiry long black hair sits by the projector, loading up a reel.

"Mr. Reeves?" he says, more politely than his appearance would suggest. He looks curiously at Nelson.

"You can take an early lunch break, Don," Will says. "I've got it from here."

"Thank you, Mr. Reeves!" the youth says. He doesn't hesitate to take him up on the offer.

The movie starts. It's a black and white, silent picture that takes Nelson back to his childhood. A man chases another on horseback, his face obscured by a hood.

"This is that film you always talked about," Nelson says. "Trust in the Law, was it?"

"I'm surprised you remember," Wilal says. Nelson's a little offended by that. But only a little, seeing what an ass he'd been before.

He also remembers that a young Will was watching this movie when a race riot broke out in Tulsa. William mentioned it once, early in their relationship. At the time, Nelson privately assumed that Will was exaggerating; he was only a child when it happened, so surely it couldn't have been as bad as he said. Or perhaps, if it was bad, than it was somehow...justified. Now, the memory sickens him. He wishes he could go back in time and knock some sense into his younger self.

"Didn't it inspire you to become Hooded Justice?" he asks. The flicking black and white light casts shadows on their faces.

"Partly," Will says. He looks directly at Nelson. "I never did tell you what made me put on the mask that first time."

Nelson feels cold. There's a shift in Will's tone that seems to change the very air around them. It feels ominous.

"It started with Cyclops," he says with a faraway look in his eyes. "Though I didn't know it at the time. I arrested a white man for throwing a Molotov cocktail at a Jewish deli. When I brought him in, some other officers took him off my hands, saying they'd book him. Days later, I saw the same man walking free.

"I was told not to question it. But I couldn't let it go. So one night, when I was walking home, three of my fellow officers jumped me in an alley. They beat me, forced me into their car, and drove to a secluded area. They tied my hands together, put a bag over my head and a noose around my neck, and strung me up from a tree."

"What?!" Nelson gasps. His hands ball into fists, clenching his pants leg. How is this the first time he's hearing about it?

"I struggled and kicked. I felt myself chocking to death. I was so sure I was going to die. But they cut me down. I was a crumpled mess on the ground, sputtering and coughing, when the officer yanked the bag off. He got right up in my face like this," William leans so close that his breath's in Nelson's ear.

He whispers what the officer told him that night, directly into his ear. Nelson feels sick to his stomach. He wants this to stop now. But willful ignorance won't change what's been done to Will.

Will leans back. "I walked home in a trance, with the noose around my neck and the bag in my hands. Couldn't tell you what I was thinking, even if I wanted to. Guess you could call it being on autopilot. As I got close to home, I heard a lady screaming in an alleyway. A couple was being robbed. I didn't think. I ripped eye holes in the bag and put it back on. Then I beat the robbers to a bloody pulp. They weren't the ones who wronged me, but it felt so good to act. To have power. To bring justice, even if it was justice for something as small as a mugging.

"The next day, I saw it in the newspaper. They called me a hero. And well, you know the rest."

William looks off at the screen, where the townsfolk cheer for Bass Reeves.

"William..." Nelson says weakly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Without looking, he says, "Would it have made a difference back then?"

He wants to say yes. Yes, of course it would have. If Will had told Nelson about being lynched, for God's sake, then Nelson would've cared. Even when he was at his most racist, he still would've believed the man he loved. Wouldn't he?

But then...he'd had doubts about Tulsa. He hadn't believed Will then. William tried to tell him many things over the years, tried to open his eyes, yet Nelson remained willfully blind until it was too late. Until Will's absence finally caused him to reevaluate those beliefs. So if William had told him about being lynched in 1939, would it have been enough to finally make Nelson change? Or would it have been another Tulsa?

"I don't know," he croaks, mouth dry.

"Yeah, well, this way we never have to know the answer," Will mutters.

The words resonate with Nelson. If they knew the answer, then well, maybe they wouldn't be having this conversation right now. There were some things that William could never forgive. Perhaps they both needed the deniability.

Hesitantly, Nelson puts his hand on William's knee. William lets him. "I'm so sorry, Will. I'm sorry it happened, and I'm sorry that you couldn't tell me. I should have been there for you. I should've...God, I wish I could change so much. And I want to kill those officers."

William finally looks at him.

"Don't worry," he grunts, "I killed most of them, the night of the warehouse fire. When I called you about Cyclops mind control."

"Oh," Nelson mumbles. Regret hits him all over again. Why hadn't he listened to William back then? To think how different there lives might have been if he had. "I should've listened to you. I should've helped you get the bastards. I'm--I'm sorry I was such a racist little prick."

"I always know you're serious when you start cussing," Will says wryly.

Nelson snorts. It comes out more like a sniffle.

"Don't tell me you're crying again," Will says, but he can't help it. The nicer William is to him, the worse he feels. We wishes Will would scream at him or strike him, anything that would make them even. The house doesn't feel like enough. The money isn't enough.

"I'm sorry," he says, again, rubbing at his tear-stained cheeks. "I didn't--I'm not--"

"You're not making any sense," he says. "Nelson, calm down."

"I just want you know," he says shakily, "that it wasn't the mask."

"What?"

"It wasn't the mask I fell in love with. That's not true. Maybe I didn't show it the right way, maybe I was too selfish and blind to treat you the way you deserved, but it was never the mask. I really did love you, Will. Please believe me."

"Nelly," Will says softly.There's no anger in his beautiful brown eyes, no hatred. They're softer than usual, showing something that Nelson won't dare read.

Will's hand cups the back of his head, fingers gripping his hair in a way that's a little rough and a little tender, just like he remembers. For a moment, they stay like that, faces bent towards each other, eyes locked on one another.

He's not sure who initiates it, but when their lips meet it's surprisingly gentle. Their first time was all raw passion; their last, bittersweet. This is something new entirely. William pulls him closer, deepening the kiss, as the movie plays in the background.

Nelson can't bring himself to care about anything else.

[cohentm]

✮     ∷     ╰  𝖚𝖕𝖉𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖗𝖔𝖉𝖚𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 .

             I FEEL LIKE i just ran away from home and then realized i’m five and, unfortunately, cannot survive without my parents. LMDFLKDFGM i missed u all and had to return… we hate to see it. anyway! whew. i figured i’d post a refreshed lil intro for cohen to make sure i hit on some key changes before i hop back into the game! the most important / group-related part is right at the top, so if u read nothing else, read that! ily all and i’m excited to jump back in like i never left. i’ll be sliding in dms and makin’ starters asap, so if u wanna make some connection changes my door’s always open! x

✮     ∷     ╰  𝖈𝖔𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖘𝖊𝖌𝖚𝖗𝖆 : 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 .

cohen currently lives in a glorified, raggedy frat-esque house ( he is NOT a fratboy but he might as well be huh ) of his own right off campus, about a five minute drive / ten minute walk from the stadium ( it’s about four bedrooms large with three bathrooms, all on one floor. think david dobrik’s house–click here to see–except much uglier and CHEAP MVDFLG ). 

he’s fiscally very protective of his savings. he’s been working since he was 12 with his dad, and never ever spent his money, despite some repetitive near-misses where his parents tried ( and failed, bc cohen’s slick ) to steal money from him. basically he now pays for his share of the house using the money he saves/has always saved working for factories, farms, & fixing people’s junk cars. 

his only current roommate is foster, meaning he has two spare rooms he’s not really doing anything with. beer pong table’s outside, the kitchen is the alcohol hot spot, there’s a pool table instead of a dining room table, u know how it goes. 

regardless, he throws open invite house parties literally every weekend. they take place every friday night up until the sun rises on sunday morning–whether he’s around the house for all of five seconds or all night doesn’t matter, because they’re always a-go. 

you’re all 100% free to use his house entirely at your leisure for character fun / development / a place for ur thread to take place / etc! you don’t even need to get my okay beforehand! just do it! think of it as a known dillon fact that cohen’s having a house party every weekend NFKDFNDFKJG. 

no matter who you are, whether cohen likes you or not, he will not care if you show up with some randos or familiar faces and party it out. he’s socially bored 24/7 and full of apathy and alcohol at all times so mans probably will be plastered drunk out doing donuts in the parking lot and fighting someone he doesn’t have beef with anyway. ur muse probably won’t even see him there. LMKGDFLG if you’ve ever seen burlesque? literally him showing up to his OWN house for a visit / to get plastered and then wander off during the weekend party is…. real. so yeah! use his house like it’s ur own. just be out by sunday afternoon bc he likes to pretend none of it ever happened as soon as he wakes up and has to be sober for school. x KMVFBLFG love u all.

✮     ∷     ╰  𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬  &  𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 .

tw: eating disorder mentions ( food & lifestyle ), drug addiction / recovery, alcoholism, & mentions of past steroid use.

full name.    cohen anthony segura.

aka.    co, jet.

character inspiration.    adam parrish ( the raven cycle ), vince howard & tim riggins lovechild ( if y’all watched fnl…. let’s cry together ), a much more problematic  &  asshole-ish david dobrik ( the vlog squad ), nathan scott ( oth ), steven hyde ( that ‘70s show ), emily prentiss & aaron hotchner lovechild ( criminal minds ), & noel miller ( tmg ).

age & d.o.b.    twenty-two. birthdate tbd.

zodiac.    virgo sun, aries moon, & aquarius rising.

pronouns.    he / him.

orientation.    openly bisexual.

this has never presented as too large of an issue for cohen, despite living in dillon. he isn’t afraid of being talked about, and has a history of making sure people know he can hold his own if anyone has anything to say about his personal life.

university major.    architecture  &  architectural technology.

after living in a trailer for the duration of his life, the idea that he would be invested in architecture is astounding. however, here he is. his passion for home creation stemmed from growing up and envisioning a real home to live in. his parents are both into self-taught carpentry, and his dad was shoving tools and measuring tape into his hands from the time he was young in an effort to instill in him a firm “get it done yourself” mindset. he spends his time studying structure  &  building planning, and secretly has a journal full of dream house mark-ups.

occupation.    wide receiver for the dillon panthers, full time student, & prospective architect / carpenter post-college.

tattoos.    many riddled throughout his body. brandon arreaga’s tattoos are cohen’s.

face claim.    brandon arreaga.

alignment.    neutral evil.

hogwarts.    slytherin.

positive & negative traits.    ( if u’ve already read this do not read it again i promise u nothing here changed LSMFLD )

hardworking–he works himself to the bone and is entirely unapologetic about it. you’ll rarely catch him slipping, but if he does, he’s the first to get ear-splittingly angry with himself over it. he’s way too hard on himself & he knows it, but he’ll never admit it. 

he nitpicks at the flaws of others in an effort to feel superior, and always acts unaffected when he’s called out for bringing the team down when he’s not taking care of himself ( cue vince howard from fnl or nathan scott from oth scenes where they’re bragging about how good they are on the field even though he’s apt to get himself hurt because of how desperate he is for some kind of validation–cohen had a huge issue with restricting and abusing stimulants / testing steroids throughout high school and college in an attempt to boost his football persona. he was always incredibly fast and beat literal ODDS to maintain his wide receiver position, but especially thanks to his small build he’s used to being underestimated / downplayed, which puts a really heavy weight on his shoulders. today, he’s eating healthily, he’s off drugs, and he’s taking care of himself better than he ever has before, but it’s still incredibly hard and he still reaches out for ways to overcompensate, which is where alcohol usually comes into play ). 

transparent–sure, he can turn into a stressed out & irritable jerk within a fraction of a second, but at least he’s upfront about when he switches lanes. LDFGLMKFG

he’s incredibly focused, which means he’s never going to linger in uncertainty for too long before he admits that he’s just not down to be around you / to be there / to talk / etc. he’s no bullshitter by any means. he’d rather hurt your feelings and keep his environment stable and tactile than stick around and put his easily shaken emotions at risk just to make you comfy. 

he’s also accountable. he knows when he’s causing shit to fuck up & hit the fan, and he’s always quick to right wrongs when things are on him. ofc he’s bred from a family full of blame-givers, so he unhealthily picked up a bad habit of being really good at sounding like he’s apologizing sincerely when he’s really just trying to end a fight because he’s annoyed. LDCLDKMFDFG. 

he’s blunt, temperamental, & incredibly selfish when it comes to his own lifelines / vices, but wholeheartedly selfless when it comes to doing anything to protect or lift up the people he loves.

mental diagnoses.    anorexia nervosa ( in recovery ), alcoholism ( ongoing ), an addiction to various stimulants ( in recovery ), & frequent past attempts at steroid use.

physical diagnoses.    n / a.

phobias.    has an irrational fear of accidentally burning down his house. will get immensely stressed–to the point where he’s absolutely annoying and intolerable to put up with / be around–if someone’s cooking or baking “irresponsibly.” will probably yell at you and hover-cook until you let him take over so he can make sure nothing goes wrong. LMSDFKLFG

scars.   an appendix scar on his lower left side.

drug use.    frequently.

alcohol use.    frequently.

diet.    very decently rounded. he loves to cook, despite being self-taught. growing up the way he did, he settles for making simple dishes very well. he’s not the type to go all out for dinner. he meal preps like it’s his job. he usually just settles with some kind of pan-friend chicken and pasta dish at home.

birth place.    dillon, texas.

parents.    "jude" judith & anthony segura. 

two lower class parents with deep-rooted anger issues. they currently live in the same trailer park together, in separate trailers, and fight with each other constantly. they claim they’re divorced, and are seeing other people, but they’ve never actually filed for anything, since anthony segura thinks it’s just a ploy for judith to take “half [his] shit.” cohen visits them often, and acts as a middle ground child who hates but loves both of them equally. his dad enjoys / tolerates his son’s presence more than his mother does, but only marginally. his mother’s much less concerned with the fact that she has children, since, in her mind, her relationship issues are the most important things in her life. cohen spent many nights as a kid with his drugged up mom in his lap while she cried about not being loved by anyone. his dad, even though he’s rough with cohen, at least spends time with him every now and again. as a kid, his dad was handing him beers to drink and tools to learn to use to prove he was a man ( despite being a ten y/o child bfkjgk oh well! ). regardless, today cohen lives on his own but is still the financial backbone for his parents–since his mom is unemployed and his dad is a seasonal construction worker–and has been since he was fifteen. they ask him for money every chance they get, and cohen never says no.

siblings.    a younger sister ( by two years ). loves her to death. would protect her with his life.

pets.    he’s notorious for letting a certain set of strays run amuck in his house. he feeds the neighborhood cat, is a-okay with people bringing their animals to his parties, etc. but he’s too scared of permanence and obsessed with independence to ever follow through with getting his own animal.

education.    current senior at dillon university. 

he has always been a decent student. he got into architectural honors college his sophomore year of college. however, he’s still not by any means incredibly intelligent. he’s decent grade-wise, but only because he tries really hard and puts in the effort it takes to keep up in a field like architecture. he’s also a chronic cheater, but c’est la vie! lmfgdflkg he spends the vast majority of his time either studying or practicing, and gets very irritable very quick doing either activity because he doesn’t know how to manage stress, so he drinks in the evenings in an attempt to make up for his tense demeanor, but he’s an angry drunk so… whomst are we really kidding here. LMDFKLG

languages.    english & american sign language.

[sirloozelite]

Hi! I have a chapter/prompt idea for you. Remember the line in the Ahsoka book that goes... “what do you even know about family?” Kaeden said. “You never had one. And you probably never had friends, either. Just clones who had to do everything you said, because you were their superior officer.” Would love to see Ahsoka and Kaeden talk about it in a prompt/chapter. It really struck a nerve in me. The Jedi and clones were Ahsoka’s family and majority of them died... :(

Hey anon, hope you didn’t mind the wait for the reply. Wanted to get it all good and everything. I took your idea and ran with it a bit. It might not be 100% what you wanted, but I hope you liked what I did do. Thanks for the prompt. Feel free to send more my way. Same goes for the rest of you. XD

1: Kaeden and Ahsoka speak about family

"Hey, I need to talk to you. It's important."

Ahsoka Tano was no expert at romance. There was a reason many of her closest friends, her girlfriend included, often referred to her as the 'Queen of being Dense'. Nine times out of ten she missed the subtle social cues that usually indicated that something was wrong, or that something shouldn't be investigated or talked about.

Of course though, Ahsoka just had to be the person who would break all of those rules! She blamed her time as an undercover spy.

That said, even she knew when something was bothering someone, and by the way Kaeden has suddenly sunk onto the couch next to her, her posture slouched in despair and her tone grim, it was something bad.

And as Kaeden Larte's girlfriend, it was Ahsoka's job to find out what the problem was!

"What's up?" Ahsoka replied as she bookmarked the page of the 'Book of Hondo', setting it aside for later, before moving closer to Kaeden, one arm wrapping round the human woman.

Kaeden didn't answer immediately, though she did raise her head from where she had been staring at the floor blankly. Her eyes, usually so bright with joy and focus, and sometimes mischievousness, instead seemed to have a dark shadow to them, as if something was haunting the gateway to her soul.

"Kaeden? Talk to me."

"I need to apologise to you."

That surprised Ahsoka! What did Kaeden possibly have to apologise for? If anything Ahsoka was the one that should be apologizing on a daily basis for all the crazy stunts she pulled.

Still, whatever Kaeden felt like she had to apologize for was clearly eating her up inside, so Ahsoka didn't hesitate to respond.

"I forgive you."

"No! I… you don't even know what I'm apologizing for!

"I know… but I already forgive you."

"Please Ahsoka… just… just let me speak."

Ahsoka didn't miss the way Kaeden had winced as Ahsoka had 'forgiven' her without blinking an eye. The thought that Kaeden thought that Ahsoka wouldn't forgive her hurt the Togruta. Did Kaeden not know how special she was to Ahsoka?

"Ok Kaeden… ok. What do you need to apologize for?"

Kaeden lowered her head for a few seconds as she contemplated how to phrase whatever was on her mind. Ahsoka didn't want to rush her, but every moment that passed was hell for the Togruta. She hated seeing anyone suffer, double so for Kaeden.

"About Raada. About what I said to you when you first revealed your Force powers. I said you didn't know what it was like to have a family. That all you had were Clones to boss around because you were their commanding officer. I was wrong to say that, and I was wrong to say you didn't know what it meant to have a family and I'm so sorry for what I said to you."

Ahsoka's eyes widened. She had honestly forgotten that Kaeden had ever said such a thing! Had she really said something that could have been taken in such a cruel way?

Memories came back to Ahsoka, one of an angry Kaeden surrounded by her friends and sister on Raada, accusing her of not helping them fight the Empire more, of not doing enough!

But even back then, Ahsoka had remembered not being angry at the words. She had understood, and in some ways she agreed. What did Ahsoka know about a true family? She had been taken from hers at three years of age after all.

"What's brought this on Kaeden?" Ahsoka asked quietly, pulling the human woman closer to her, resting her head atop Kaeden's, hoping it offered some comfort. From the way Kaeden leaned in closer as well, Ahsoka could tell it was having some sort of positive effect.

"I was speaking to Rex. I told him what I said to you and he… well he didn't take it too well to say the least."

Ahsoka didn't even realize she had frozen up until she felt Kaeden's palm gently wrap around her own, squeezing intently as a reminder that she was still there. Ahsoka couldn't help the build up of anger at herself that occurred suddenly. She was supposed to be comforting Kaeden… not the other way around!

"What did Rex say?" Ahsoka inquired, worried that her girlfriend had just inadvertently made an enemy out of her oldest and most trusted friend.

"He called me unreasonable and said I was damned lucky to have you. He said if anyone ever hurt his little sister he would kill them, then clone them just so he could kill them again. I don't think he was even kidding!"

Once more Ahsoka's eyes widened at Kaeden's recount of Rex's words. In all honesty, she wasn't that surprised about ex's reaction. The old Clone Captain was fiercely territorial and defensive when it came to people he saw as his brothers and family, and in Ahsoka's case, his little sister.

There was a time Ahsoka could recall that all of the Clones in the 501st saw her that way. Rex was always willing to teach her, to help her improve herself.

Fives was always willing to joke around with her. He had taught her how not to succumb to the pressures of command.

Echo had taught her how to be patient, how to follow procedure when it mattered most. Losing him at the Citadel had been a major blow for them all.

Kix and Coric had taught her how to save people in more ways than one. It didn't matter that they weren't always out fighting, as they fought the most dangerous and formidable foe in existence on a daily basis and won. Combating death was one hell of a task after all.

It wasn't just the boys in the 501st that had taught her either. Both Cody and Wolffe had given her new perspective on things. Through their teachings and encouragement, she had learned how to adapt on the fly, how to improvise, and most importantly, how to get the job done.

And then there were the rest. Hardcase had taught her to be bold. Waxer and Boil had taught her the importance of companionship. Dogma had taught her to have faith and not lose it.

And Jesse had taught her how to be cautious. It was not the lesson she wished she had learnt from him, but it was the most important one of her life, one she had carried with her as Fulcrum. When Order 66 had been issued, and Jesse turned on her and Rex, Ahsoka had no choice but to act.

There were nights where she still saw the Arc Trooper in her dreams, impaled on a burning green blade, mere seconds away from murdering Rex in cold blood. She did not regret her actions, but she wished how they had been different.

If only things had been different.

"He was right of course. The Clones, despite being your subordinates, were your family. Rex told me about them all. About Fives and Echo, Jesse and Hardcase. Hell he even introduced me to Kix. And then there's the Jedi too!"

Ahsoka listened as Kaeden continued on, recalling more and more of her discussion with Rex, which sounded like had gotten more civil after the old Clone's initial hostility.

"And then Rex told me about the Jedi he knew, about the one's he knew had a strong bond with you. I'm sorry about Master Plo Koon, Ahsoka. I wish I could have met him. He sounded wonderful."

"He really was." Ahsoka couldn't help but reply, her fond memories of the Kel Dor coming to her mind. How she wished he was still here.

"He also told me about Anakin. And Senator Amidala too."

Ahsoka tried not to stiffen at the mention of her former Jedi Master. Even now he was a sore spot, for both her and Rex. How Obi-Wan was able to forgive and forget was unknown to her. She really wished she had his patience and understanding sometimes.

But then she hadn't been there at the end, and Obi-Wan had. Perhaps he knew something she didn't.

"I know you hate him Ahsoka, and no one blames you for it, but from what Rex told me he was like your father figure in many ways. I can't imagine what it was like to have to kill him."

It had been hard at the time…. but like with Jesse it had been necessary. Ahsoka had had to make a difficult decision with the information she had… just as Anakin had taught her too as a Padawan.

And Padmé? Padmé had taught her to trust in her actions, and to know right from wrong.

Ahsoka really hoped that the Senator would be proud of her if she was still alive.

"So I'm sorry. I was wrong to say you didn't know what it was like to have a family, because you did have one. It was just very different from mine." Kaeden finished, squeezing Ahsoka's hand again whilst waiting for the Togruta's response.

Wasting no time and already knowing how she was going to respond, Ahsoka brought her free hand up to Kaeden's cheek, gently pulling the woman's face towards her before placing a gentle kiss to her lips.

Pulling back, Ahsoka rested her forehead on Kaeden's and spoke.

"As I said, you are already forgiven, forever and always. My family may have been different from yours, but back then you had every right to say what you did. I may have lost that family, but now I have a new one in you."

The way Kaeden's face lit up with a small smile was all the response Ahsoka needed. If Kaeden was happy, so was she.

"I…. ok… thanks Ahsoka. I feel like I understand you better now thanks to Rex. I wish I could have met all of your old family."

"Me too Kaeden. Me too." Ahsoka replied, banishing any thoughts of the fate of her old family from her mind. It would not do her well to dwell on the past. Right now all she wanted to focus on was the present.

And that present was Kaeden Larte.

[turquoisephoenix]

Perfect Chemistry

A Skylanders one shot

Dr. Krankcase/Mags. All it takes is a slip of a tongue and before you know it you're accidentally admitting that you have romantic feelings for your best friend from Inventor's School.

The sun was already setting in the cloud-filled horizon of Skylands, distant clouds on the western horizon glowing like fresh coals in a burning furnace.

Just this morning, Skylanders Academy - beacon of hope, symbol of virtue and peace in a turbulent magical world littered with monsters and villains - held a giant celebration to welcome four new Skylanders into the fold. While it was common for someone courageous enough to be made a Skylander (Master Eon was never considered very picky about who he granted the title, provided the recipient had proven themselves worthy of the title) was what made this day special was that it heralded the end of an evil chapter. The end of a nightmarish era.

Four of The Doom Raiders have given up crime.

After several years performing community service and training under the watchful eye of Master Eon and his most loyal followers, Wolfgang, The Golden Queen, the Chompy Mage, and Dr. Krankcase were now all considered fit to rejoin society and were all awarded new jobs as both Skylanders and teachers at the Academy. The Doom Raiders as a villainous organization had now ceased to be.

Some of the members of the Academy wished that it was all of the awful criminals - Chef Pepper Jack, Dreamcatcher, and The Gulper were all considered to be at large and major threats to the peace that the Skylanders upheld - but this was still considered a major victory to celebrate. It proved that evil could change, even if it took several years of sorting through books at a library to do so.

And with their newly awarded freedom - and their declaration that they would never use their powers for evil ever again unless they want a life sentence in Cloudcracker Prison - the Academy threw a party in their honor.

And boy, what a party it was. Even as the sun was setting and the hours were winding on, the party showed no signs of slowing down and looked to be rising to a fever pitch, with everybody in the Academy taking advantage of the excuse to eat as much food as they could, dance until their feet felt ready to fall off, and talk to the new members of the Academy staff while under the influence of caffeine and various snack products. The enchilada sauce flowed freely, as did the music from several local bands. The kitchen fires burned around the clock just to supply enough refreshments to everyone who showed up.

One ex-Doom Raider, however, wanted a break from the celebrations. Dr. Krankcase, tray of party favors still in one hand, kept glancing out the window and at the setting sun as if searching for an exit. That isn't to say he had fun today, of course not, but while his former partners in crime were still taking the center stage, either through queenly proclamations that they declare their powers to be a rightful force that will make all the bad guys tremble or through unprompted guitar solos that shook the dust off of the Academy's foundations, Dr. Krankcase was now just hanging back near the back of the party with Mags and her friends. Mags was the only non-Doom Raider he knew at the party, after all.

Mags had noticed that Dr. Krankcase was giving subtle hints that he no longer wanted to be there anymore, even if he refused to say so out loud. She had known him for so long that she was able to pick up on the tiny cues that he gave when it was obvious that he was no longer having fun at a social gathering, especially one that was filled with questions from future coworkers. His jokes became just a little more forced, his body language became tight and more hesitant, his eyes kept searching for possible escape routes, and his smile had turned from something bright and cheerful to something that had the grimace of a caged animal.

He seemed too afraid to leave on his own, possibly in fear that someone would somehow find it suspicious and immediately take away his recent accolades and throw him back in Cloudcracker Prison (anxiety was funny like that) so when Mags suggested they head over to her workshop, he practically jumped at the opportunity.

That's what friends were for, right?

"Man, thanks for saving me back there, Mags. I'm not used to so much festivity and merriment thrown in my direction." Dr. Krankcase said as he entered Mags' workshop, breathing a sigh of relief as his legs clicked noisily across the floor.

When the ex-Doom Raider had last visited her workplace, there was so much stuff on the floor - wrenches, half-finished blueprints, cans of oil, that sort of thing - that he had such a hard time getting around and instead stood awkwardly in a corner. Now, there was a clear path cutting through the place, the organized chaos instead being pushed off to the sides where they couldn't get caught on his spider legs. He appreciated the gesture. With how well his cybernetic wooden legs worked, a lot of people forgot that they were still considered mobility aids and that he couldn't stand in places that people with two legs could.

"Aww, it's no big deal!" she said, hanging her silly stovepipe hat on a stand near the door. "Although personally I think ya were doing a great job with all them questions and-" Mags stopped herself the moment she saw her partner follow her lead and also remove his hat. "...Cranberry, are you wearing a toupee?"

The mad scientist looked up, radiating a similar aura of a dog caught with a stolen bagel in its mouth, and smiled sheepishly. There was an unfortunate blue hairpiece perched on her froggy companion, several shades darker than the actual hair sticking out on the sides of his head. His face began to turn pink as he looked away from her.

"Well...you know, I wanted to be prepared in case some accident knocked my hat off during the party! You know how it goes. I didn't want my new coworkers to see my massive bald spot, and...well..."

He trailed off, realized how lame he sounded, and ripped the hair piece from his head as he immediately gave up. His massive bald spot, normally hidden by one of his many tall hats of choice, now glistened in the workshop's lighting.

"So yes, yes, I'm wearing a very bad toupee," he held it away from him between two pinched fingers in disgust. "A very damp one at that!"

Mags put a hand against her mouth to stifle a giggle as he unceremoniously chucked the hell toupee in a wastebin. "Ya wanna relax while I get yer gift ready? It'll take a couple minutes to get it set up and ya look like death there, buddy."

Thankful for the invitation, Krankcase flopped on a dusty old couch that Mags kept in her workplace, his legs curled up like a dead spider as some of the legs pierced the worn out arm rest. His modified body shape was good for standing but not so much for more leisurely poses; couches were now the preferred method of relaxation over a chair. He stretched, his back and neck audibly cracking, as a lazy smile spread on his face. "Don't need to tell me twice, Mags."

He listened to her leave into the next room and allowed himself to gaze around the area. He loved that Mags' workshop was like an extension of herself. Most of the space in her workshop was dedicated to her profession, with wrenches and blowtorches and screwdrivers hanging on the walls, but on occasion he'd spot something like a kitten poster or a little ceramic puppy hanging out alongside cans of oil or belt sanders.

There were almost no hints that Mags had originated from the Underlands - a place where vampires, werewolves, and zombies lurked in dusty ol' crypts and mansions - except for one aging photograph that showed her standing next to her parents and five other siblings. Even in the photograph, her parents looked like they were glaring in disapproval at the legless amphibian laying on their daughter's sofa.

But then, as he was left to his thoughts and as he studied Mags' knickknacks and workshop decorations, the butterflies in his stomach returned anew, this time bringing forth the bubbling feelings he kept suppressed. His smile slowly morphed into an uneasy frown as he began to fiddle with one of his bottom tusks. Ah yes, that was a problem. He wasn't sure what caused it - what made his brain flip the switch and change his thoughts into something more potent - but lately he's been having feelings for his best friend. Somehow it almost felt criminal.

'No, don't make it awkward...' he told himself, dragging a hand across his face. He couldn't say it out loud, but he loved Mags. He loved everything about her, her bubbly, positive personality, her immense knowledge in everything science. He loved her accent, the way she would crack a silly joke even in the face of danger. He loved how excited and loud she would get when she was getting close to a breakthrough in an experiment. He loved the way she smiled, the way she still was friends with him even after all the awful, evil things he's done in the past. He even loved her stupid hat, even if he thought his taste in headwear was far superior.

And he was absolutely afraid of ruining all that by saying the wrong thing. What if his tongue betrayed him in the worst possible moment and he said what he was really thinking? Would she hate him? Would he lose his best friend over some stupid emotions?

"Here it is!" Mags cried suddenly, jolting him from his thoughts. Almost guiltily, Dr. Krankcase scrambled to his feet.

Nothing could prepare him for what he saw.

"Mags..."

Standing before him, next to a very excited Mags, was an exact double of the wooden legs that were holding him upright. He slowly walked over to it, his arm outstretched like a sleepwalker, until his fingers grazed the top of it. It was made from the same wood and everything, and all the bolts and joints were at the exact same size. She got the measurements down exactly, when he didn't even build a working blueprint for his wooden spider legs.

"You...you built a replica of my legs?" he asked, leaning forward to examine it even more closely. He lifted a leg up and started testing the joints, then he moved one of his own legs next to Mags' gift and eyeballed the two inventions together, admiring Mags' handicraft. There was absolutely no difference, beyond the fact that only one pair of legs had a Dr. Krankcase sitting in them. It was unbelievable.

"They're not functional, before ya ask. You're still the only one who can bring this type of wood to life. But this has been a little pet project o' mine that I've been fiddling with over the months. I'm slowly learning how yer legs work so that, if something...you know...were to happen while you're out on a mission doing heroic, dangerous things, I could help repair them. It just seems like something to ease your mind just in case something terrible happened."

Krankcase was speechless. After spending an entire day keeping up appearances and trying to play it cool, he lost his composure.

"Mags..." he paused to take a deep breath. Words were suddenly catching in his chest. He ran a hand down his face as tears caught in his eyes. "No one's ever offered to help me like this before."

Mags elbowed him playfully, grinning from ear to ear.

"Aww, it's such a small gesture for the man I love."

Time seemed to stop for both of them. It was the tiniest slip of the tongue - something that Dr. Krankcase thought he misheard - but, like the wrong ingredient thrown into an alchemist's pot, there was an immediate explosive response and suddenly everything in the recipe changed.

"I MEAN-" Mags began, her face instantly turning beet red. She began to gesture wildly with her hands, emotions suddenly flaring up. "Aw shoot, I meant that in a platonic way! I didn't mean it like as in LOVE love, that would be real awkward ta just spring that on ya just now, aw diddly-di-darn, I mean, some things just slip out, boy howdy, I've been working so late and I'm tired andand-"

"Mags! It's okay!" he shouted. Inwardly, as he watched her fidget nervously, he noticed that Mags' accent got even thicker when she was flustered. It was adorable to him, one of the many quirks that made her beautiful in his eyes, and something about it made the ex-Doom Raider feel bold.

He was a Skylander now, after all. Skylanders were supposed to be flexible and adapt to any situation.

"To be quite honest, I love you too."

It was a shot in the dark, one that made his mind scream out in anguish for letting such an important secret out, but it had the perfect effect. Mags didn't tell him that their friendship was now over, she didn't react in disgust at such a display of utter pigheadedness from some frog with a doctorate degree. Instead she froze in place and stared at him blankly like a newborn fawn.

"Wait, you...you do?"

He nodded.

"...Really?"

Her voice sounded so small, so fragile, so unlike the Mags he's known for so long. That's when it hit him. Gears spinning in his head, his eyes fell back on the replica of his own mechanical legs, the result of months of studying his own handiwork just so he would never have to worry about an injury making him unable to repair his legs himself. He wasn't the only one hiding secret affections for a best friend, too afraid to speak up in fear that it'd just alienate the other person and their long-term friendship would be ruined forever.

Dr. Krankcase and Mags were the two smartest scientists in all of Skylands, capable of bending the very fabric of reality with their inventions, and yet both of them were unable to see what was developing between them.

Without thinking, he wrapped her in his arms and pressed her close, burying his face in her bright purple hair. He felt her flinch, but then her hesitation vanished and she relaxed in his embrace and put her arms around his waist.

"Really." He replied back, trying to imitate the dashing hero in a romance novel. His attempt at being suave failed instantly however as his bottled-up emotions overwhelmed him. His voice ended up trembling and the tears he was holding back began to fall on her head. A weak sob escaped his lips and his body shook. He wasn't sure if this was real or not.

"I just didn't think..." he paused as words were getting harder to use. "-you'd want someone like me."

Mags didn't respond as she rested her head against his chest and listened to his heartbeat flutter anxiously. She didn't have to ask what he meant. She had frequently checked up on him while he was doing community service and on occasion he'd tell her that he was afraid that them continuing to be friends would tarnish her reputation. After all, she was a hero of Skylands while he was a disgraced criminal. She helped people, he hurt people. She saved the world from destruction, and he once built a doomsday device. Their friendship persisted, but lately, he was voicing his doubts more and more.

'Because he was falling in love with me,' she realized as she remained pressed up against him, breathing in the wood chip and hint of acid smell that lingered on his clothes. Dr. Krankcase's hug lingered; he was so touch-starved that he was almost afraid of letting go, in fear that this golden opportunity would slip through his fingers.

He was always like that, she mused to herself. Doubting himself and his ability to live up to her achievements despite looking outwardly prideful. Even when they were alumni at the most prestigious inventor's school, Krankcase was afraid that becoming friends with her would reflect badly on Magdalena Sibylla-Bronwen Soulstealer the II, daughter of one of the most famous vampires in the Underlands.

"Of course I want to be with you. I'd be fine living the rest of my life with you if I had to." she said softly, arms still around his waist.

She loved Dr. Krankcase, she could finally admit that to herself. She loved everything he was, every little piece of his maniacal personality, his talents and strengths as well as his flaws. She didn't mind at all that he had creepy spider legs. He was a cunning scientist just like her, a man of alchemy and engineering, and also a fearsome warrior. She almost felt a little guilty for admitting this, but she even loved his time as a villain, if only because it made his current achievements that much richer. He was once evil, but he also had the strength to realize what he did was wrong and pull himself out of his wicked mindset.

At those words, Krankcase's mind started to ponder the possibility of spending the rest of his life with her - would they get married? would they have kids? - and something about it activated his deep-seeded anxiety and his body went into fight-or-flight mode. He instantly pulled away from her, an action so swift that Mags nearly fell over, as he tried to slowly walk backwards out the front door. Everything was happening too fast.

"You know, Mags. I should...I should get going." he said, panic flooding his voice. "T-Thank you for the present, it was...I'll be real, it was the best thing I've ever received in my life-BUT I think I've stayed too long, I'm kinda making things awkward right now, I don't want anyone in the Academy to get any ideas and start talking-"

Mags approached him swiftly, her hands gently resting on his shoulders, stopping him from running away. They made eye contact and for a brief moment, neither of them spoke as they both gazed into each other eyes. Without realizing what he was doing, Krankcase leaned forward until both of them felt each other's breath on their face. Two of his spider legs adjusted themselves so that they were on opposite sides of her own, gently framing her with his own cybernetics.

Mags drew herself to her full height. Now it was her turn to be bold.

"Let them talk."

And with those words, she pulled his face towards her's, fingers caught in his fluffy blue hair, and gave him a kiss. It was clumsy, a sloppy first attempt from a scientist so inexperienced in romance that most of her experience - save for the time when she dated Cali for a brief couple of months - came from TV shows and crinkled paperbacks.

But like most of her science experiments, it had the desired result. He leaned into her kiss and they both melted into each other, savoring the moment. Dr. Krankcase put a hand behind her head, running his fingers in her purple hair. When they finally pulled away, both of them needed some time to catch their breath.

"Wow..." was his only reply. It snapped him back to his senses; the panic was gone and he was back to his charming self.

Then, his mouth curled into a wide grin, his bottom tusks framing his lovely set of fangs.

"Well? Did it work? Did I turn into a prince?"

It was a dumb joke, but it also broke all of the tension that was hanging in the room. Mags immediately started cackling like a hyena like it was the funniest joke she's heard in her life, leaning her head against Krankcase's chest as he too started laughing.

"Sorry! Sorry! It was the perfect moment-" he tried to explain, but he was cut off when Mags jokingly punched him in the arm.

"You're such a dork!" Mags shot back.

Krankcase quietly embraced her again, leaning his chin on her shoulder. Even without his face visible, Mags could feel the grin that was spreading across his face. She smiled back. To both scientists, everything outside of the workshop was now forgotten. The party was forgotten. All fears of gossip were forgotten. All that existed now was their beautiful romance blossoming between the two of them like the most wonderful result of an experiment.

"Yes but I'm your dork."

[greenjacketwhitehatdocmui]

The Lesson of Cassandra (from Tangled:  The Series)

    By now, most people have seen the season finale of Rapunzel’s Tangled Adventure.  It’s probably safe to say that some people didn’t see it coming. After all, Cassandra was set up to be Rapunzel’s best friend.  How could she possibly betray her?

    It wasn’t as sudden as some people think. In fact, I would even dare to say that this was pretty much laid out from the beginning.  Her actions in the season finale were a culmination of many factors and not just because the writer(s) felt like it.

    Cassandra has both good and bad qualities.  Some of Cassandra’s good qualities include her loyalty, her ambition, her decisiveness, intelligence and her directness.  In a battle, few are her equal.  With Rapunzel, she often shows a softer side. She often offers advice to a naïve Rapunzel, who could certainly use the wisdom.  And she aspires more than to be seen as just a handmaiden, the role forced upon her by her gender.  It’s little wonder that she’s found a very vocal fanbase; many can relate to her struggles.

    Unfortunately, she has more than a few negative traits. Due to her focus on becoming a guard/handmaiden, her directness frequently goes to the extreme of hurtful bluntness.  She often does not read social cues very well—especially not as well as Eugene. She does not take criticism well, often changing the subject or ignoring the statement altogether.  In fact, she is frequently hypocritical, imposing standards on others that she doesn’t live up to herself.  And despite her confidence in her skills, she is terribly insecure.  If someone outdoes her in any way, she reacts badly, perhaps even labeling the person a threat.  “Challenge of the Brave” showed a darker side of this.  When she lost to Adira without a single blow being landed, she continually told Rapunzel that she didn’t trust the latter—despite being a resource. It’s obvious that in her mind, “superior=threat,” especially if the other person outdid her handily.

    Many of Cassandra’s traits, both good and bad, can be traced to her upbringing.  An orphan, she was raised by the Captain of the guard.  Judging by her behavior when she was temporarily reduced to childhood, the Captain obviously raised her with a firm hand.  He instilled in her the values of honor, duty, earning one’s keep and knowing one’s place, and she's a strong, independent woman because of him. Despite his overzealous nature, he genuinely cares for her—even if he may be overly harsh.  It is also obvious that they don’t always communicate with each other very well.  Cassandra's fear of swimming is an example of bad communication.  

    Over time, we note that the values that Cassandra learned from him can easily be twisted to ridiculous extremes—or forgotten altogether.  Something came easier to another person than yourself?  Get jealous because they didn’t “earn” it.  Honor a promise?  Sure, if it’s not too inconvenient.  Varian found that out the hard way.  Earn one’s keep?  Become the greatest warrior she can be instead of a handmaid.

    More disturbing is her friendship with Rapunzel. Yes, she gives Rapunzel some much-needed perspective when they talk.  However, for most of Season One, she disparages Eugene—a man who literally died to save Rapunzel.  She understands Rapunzel’s need for freedom.  However, she sees Rapunzel as her chance to fulfill her destiny, to attain the glory and respect that she's always been looking for.  She wants Rapunzel to depend on her, otherwise she has no purpose.  In this respect, the relationship between Cassandra and Rapunzel isn’t a healthy friendship--especially since Cassandra has difficulties discussing her feelings with anyone.  

    Despite being kind and intelligent, Cassandra can be remarkably short-sighted and selfish.  In the first episode, she doesn't want Rapunzel to tell anyone that they left the castle walls, despite the fact that Rapunzel's hair has grown back. She's afraid (justifiably so) of being sent to a convent by her father if she screws up.  She has been known to leave people in the lurch so that she can achieve her goal, even going so far as to potentially harm Rapunzel in "Challenge of the Brave."  And of course, there is her ultimate act of selfishness in the season 2 finale.

    I'm of the opinion that this was foreshadowed even as far back as season 1.  We've seen some of Cassandra's darker nature.  We know that she's not one who suffers fools lightly, if at all.  We understand that she has very high expectations of herself and others around her.  And we know that time and again, she's been denied the opportunity of being the hero she's always wanted to be.

    Does this mean that she's been evil all along? I personally don't think so.  I think that she genuinely cares for Rapunzel, but not in the healthiest of ways.  What she's been all this time...is entirely human.  We've seen her flaws and vulnerabilities.  Whatever she experienced behind that door in "Rapunzeltopia" was probably the final nail in the coffin, as evidenced by Cassandra's unwillingness to hug Rapunzel back.

    Here's the thing:  A lot of people were absolutely gobsmacked at Cassandra's betrayal. I suppose it all depends on your viewpoint of the character.  If you thought that, despite the evidence to the contrary, Cassandra was someone to be idolized, then the ending probably hit you harder than most.  If you acknowledged that Cassandra had good points and flaws, the ending was still surprising, but a reasonable ending.  If you absolutely hated Cassandra, you probably said "I knew it."

    I think that there's a lesson to be learned here: Idolizing someone to the point where you are blind to their flaws doesn't do anyone any good.  Conversely, seeing only a person's flaws and not their good qualities blinds you to what they can or have accomplished.  Often, the middle ground of accepting both flaws and merits is the best approach--but not an easy one.

    Do I believe that Cassandra can be redeemed? I certainly hope so--but I also hope that time is spent dealing with the repercussions of her betrayal.  She should feel extremely guilty for that moment of weakness, that she does not deserve any forgiveness--but goes on trying to be better every day.  That, I think, would make her a stronger character--and eventually, a truly worthy friend to Rapunzel.

What are your thoughts?  I’d certainly like to know.

--Doc

[autisticdindjarin]

4,7, & 8 for tacee?

This didn’t come with a letter so I just decided to do all of them except for those not applicable because of who I am as a person lmao.

A4) Are they a pessimist or an optimist? 

Tacee’s very much in the middle of this. A big theme of her character is being in the gray - not seeing things as only black or white, which makes her such a great Gray Jedi (even if she doesn’t consider herself one).

A7) Is your OC confident in their reactions to life in general, or do they get embarrassed or easily shamed for it? I.e., if something startles them, do they insist it WAS scary? When they cry, do they feel like they overreacted?

Confident, but that’s mostly because she doesn’t notice the reactions of people to her reactions - by that I mean the social cues and things she misses, as she’s on the Autism Spectrum. She owns her reactions, and doesn’t apologize for them for the most part, unless it’s something drastic.

A8) Is your OC a martyr?

During her five years in carbonite hell? Yeah. She was the Hero of Tython, after all, and lead allied forces in the battle against Revan - she’s a Republic hero. When she goes missing, it gives people all that looked up to her all the more reason to hate Arcann. And that’s why so many come to the call of the Alliance when a rebellion is formed.

B4) Do they tip well? How easily can they be moved to not leave a tip?

Being a Jedi, Tacee never really had to worry about the concept of money, or possessions, so she really doesn’t think about how much is acceptable/unacceptable. She doesn’t mean to undertip, she’s just really not aware of economics, but would never not leave a tip.

B7) How do they respond to babies crying in public?

Not well. Her enhanced hearing from being a Togruta and being on the spectrum makes it very overwhelming for her, but if she focuses enough on the Force, she can tune it out.

B8) Is your OC considered funny? Do they believe they’re funny?

Tacee’s hilarious, but she doesn’t understand to what level her hilarity goes. Her jokes rely heavy on sarcasm and dark, nonsensical aspects of humor.

C4) Do they consider themselves superior or more important than anyone else? Lesser?

This is another part of her making a good Gray Jedi - she feels that she, personally, is not any more important or less important than any other being. But, when you set her up as leader of the Alliance, she takes into consideration the greater good. She may hate it, but for the sake of the galaxy, she has to make the hard calls involving sacrificing the lives of others.

C7) Do they believe people change over time? If so, is it a natural process or does it take effort? 

Yeah, she believes everyone has the capacity to grow, and everyone has the capability of devolving concerning their morals. It can go either way. Truly growing with great progress she sees as a very big, focused effort, but sometimes it does come naturally. Falling to the dark side takes a concious decision, but sometimes good intentions lead to that dark place.

C8) Is your OC more practical or ideal morally? I.e., do they hold people to high expectations of behavior even if it’s not realistic for the situation, or do they have a more realistic approach and adapt their morality to be more practical?

She’s more practical, considering that everyone has their faults, but there are a few exceptions, Satele Shan and Orgus Din being the biggest cases, where she’s in a hero worship state and holds them on a pedestal.

D4) Would they like to be immortal? Why, why not? If they are immortal, would they rather not be?

No. She’s already tired as it is - she was ready to die when she confronted the Emperor again in the temple on Dromund Kaas, and she feels like she’s been living on borrowed time since then.

E4) Did they enjoy school if they went to it?

She enjoyed ‘gym class’, or saber training. Jedi tomes and lectures on the Force, not so much.

E7) Are they a good note-taker? Are they a good test-taker? Do exams make them nervous?

No, no, and she prefers to not actually acknowledge there is an exam to be taken.

E8) What’s one of your OC’s biggest regrets?

Ziost.

F4) How clean are they overall with home upkeep?

Not at all.

F7) What’s their “dream career” or job situation?

She really does love being a Jedi, but she also wonders what it would be like if that hadn’t been all she’d known in life. When she does leave the Order, it causes a lot of anxieties, and though she makes a good leader, she doesn’t always enjoy it. Sometimes she wishes she could just run away from it all and raise Orobirds on Rishi.

F8) How often are they home?

Basically never.

G4) What kind of childhood did your OC have?

A very Jedi-structured one. She was given to the Jedi Order at eight months old, and that’s all she knew. She had several parental figures in the form of Jedi Masters, though she was often seen as ‘disruptive’ and ‘overly energetic’ and ‘prone to meltdowns’. Especially after the trauma when she saw the Jedi Temple on Coruscant fall when she was nine years old.

G7) Do they have any childhood memories they’d rather forget or be less affected by?

The attack on the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Tacee was one of the junior padawans there, and had lived there her whole life up to that point - she was nine years old when Malgus stormed her home, and she was close enough to see the majority of the fighting. After dealing with the Emperor’s influences as an adult, she often has nightmares about Coruscant.

H4) Does your OC believe in love in first sight?

No.

H7) What do they look for in partners? (Emotionally, mentally, physically..)

Humor. Easy to connect with. Energetic, and willing to fight if needed. She likes men and women who speak their mind, and she’s always a sucker for those that could go toe to toe with her either in a conversation or in a sparring match.

H8) What’s your OC’s idea of a perfect date?

Tacee voice: What’s a date?

But ideally, she would just like time to relax and be alone with the other person, far away from any duties or obligations. As long as she doesn’t have to worry about someone popping in on her for some mission or another, she’s happy.

I4) How often do they cook? Do they order out a lot?

Tacee doesn’t like cooking, and doesn’t really cook anything she eats, either, as part of her diet as a Togruta. Sometimes she forgets to eat too, when she’s too focused on one task or another. Ordering out is cool with her, because it’s easier to get what she likes.

J4) Is your OC the sort to fall for fake news? If not, do they ignore it or make a point to clarify that it’s wrong?

No. She definitely makes sure everyone knows that it’s wrong if it’s a big issue. If it’s a small, silly thing, she’ll just roll her eyes, laugh, and go along with it.

J7) How much interest in environmental health do they have?

She doesn’t think of it, mostly because she prioritizing worlds not actively being blown up, set on fire, or wiped clear of life. Which, I guess is a form of interest in environmental health, but it’s a bit on the drastic side of it.

L4) Would you hang out with your OC if you could?

Heck yes I would! But she’d probably really intimidate me! That confidence, them muscles ...

L7) Which OC do you think is the most attractive?

My Darth Nox, Yasmi Mirgo

L8) What’s the longest you’ve had an OC for?

I’ve had my OC Kellan since I was in 4th grade, so err....  since 2001

[cordonianchoicesqueen]

Rewritten: The Royal Romance: Hello Cordonia (Part Four)

A/N: We are in Cordonia! Drake and Riley have their first fight and finally Hana, the true unsung talented queen of the TRR series makes an entrance. Also, on second reading of TRR, there’s a lot of really sexist chatter by the male characters about how awful all the women are to each other/ gold digging... They make you so worried about the women in court but they are all fabulous in their own ways... Definitely will have to come back to that at some point!

Summary: Riley drops her life in NYC and boards a plane to Cordonia with Drake and Maxwell. Arriving at the palace she feels very overwhelmed but manages to make a new friend in the process.

Choices Chapter: Book One, Chapter Two, First Half

Disclaimer: Characters and main storyline from Pixelberry’s Choices.

Word Count: 2570

Warnings: none

Hello Cordonia

The next hour or so was a whirlwind. I walked into Elliot’s with my head high. My manager turned around to shout at me for coming in the wrong entrance and being a couple minutes late but when he saw my carefree expression, he paled. I told him exactly what he could do with his sexist rants and disregard for his employees and then rushed home. I had no idea what to pack but I didn’t have time to worry about it, throwing random outfits into my bag. I grabbed anything sparkly or fancy I could find… I mean I was going to a Palace! My wardrobe nor I was truly prepared for this major life change. Just before the car sent for me pulled up outside, I left my key to my apartment on the table and texted my landlord, glad that I had decided to take out periodic tenancy. With that, I felt my ties to New York fall away and I felt free… if not just a bit petrified. 

When I got to the airport, my bags were taken for me and I was escorted through the airport. I skipped line after line and before I knew it I was standing on the runway beside a magnificent private jet. As I walked up the stairs, I let my hand run across the cold railing trying to take in everything. Yesterday, all I had to look forward to was a day off from a job I hated so I could sleep and do nothing. Today, I was boarding a private jet to travel into the unknown. It was terrifying. Yet, my overly anxious self finally let the excitement take over instead of fear. The cabin was stylish and like no airplane I had ever been on before. The chairs were the size of three economy style seats and large tables so clean you could see yourself in them were dotted around. Maxwell and Drake sat across from each other, sipping glasses of champagne. “Wow,” I said, not managing to contain my inner monologue. Maxwell jumped up, handing me a glass, “say goodbye to New York and helloooo to Cordonia!” I took the glass, feeling underdressed even for an airplane journey, “I can’t believe this is happening.” “Believe it,” Drake chimed in, downing his glass, “we’ll be there before you know it, ready or not. And if you’re not ready, those ladies at court are going to eat you alive.” “Don’t scare her Drake!” Maxwell scolding, gesturing for me to sit down with them. “You okay, Riley?” “Honestly… I’m terrified,” I said exhaling. “I knew it. She’s not gonna last a week. It’s a waste of time bringing her,” Drake bristled. Drake had obviously taken a strange dislike to me from the get go. He wasn’t happy that I was out with them the night before and he definitely wasn’t happy I was there with them now. I tried to brush aside his feelings about me… but for some reason I really wanted this grumpy, asshole to like me. He was obviously close with Liam. It wasn’t just the women I would need to win over in court. “I don’t get why you’re being so grim about this…” I said neutrally. “Look, no offense,” he said, his words dripping with offense, “but I’ve seen girls like you come and go. It never ends well. Not for you, not for Liam, not for the royal family.” “Riley’s not some crown-chaser, Drake” Maxwell fired back. I’d yet to see Maxwell look upset or angry about anything. He, so far, had always seemed so bubbly. It was nice to have him in my corner. It was time to fight my own battles and it seemed the only way to fight Drake was with a fire of my own. “Drake, to be fair you’re more my usual type. Down and out bad boy who have a strange superiority complex and like making other people feel bad,” I chided him. “Hah,” Drake rolled his eyes sarcastically. “I’m serious. I don’t usually mess around with rich boys, much less royalty. So you can keep your opinions to yourself until you actually know me,” I said never breaking his stare. Maxwell let out a low whistle, “well I think that’s enough for our pre-flight entertainment. How about we get this plane in the air and play some card games to pass the time!”

A while later, the pilot announced the plane’s descent. “Look,” Maxwell said to me pointing out the window. “You can see Cordonia out the window. You won’t want to miss this, Riley.” I peered out the window and saw one of the most beautiful costal cities I had ever seen. Small buildings scattered the landscape down to docks where extravagant yachts and ships were moored. The sea was a fantastic blue, so clear I felt like I could see all the way to the depths into the sand where the fish hide. So used to cities with unapologetic concrete structures stealing as much of the landscape as they could and the New York grids, I instead could make out the winding roads of this city leading to so many unexpected parks, plazas and market stalls. A maze I couldn’t wait to be inside. The lights of the city were soft and seemed to be united into one pattern instead of different obtrusive flashes fighting one another demanding my attention On the top of a hill overlooking the whole city was a gleaming palace with a garden so splendid in colour I could almost smell the flowers from my seat on the plane. “This is Cordonia?” I smiled despite myself. “It’s like something out of a fairy tale… The sparking ocean, the swaying trees…” “If you burst into song, I’m jumping out the plane,” Drake said behind me but I felt like I could hear an almost smile in his voice. “I’m just saying it’s beautiful,” I shook my head not being able to believe my luck. “It is, isn’t it… Are you ready?” Maxwell gave me a reassuring smile. “Ready as I will ever be!” I exclaimed.

We rode in a black car with tinted windows up the long pathway through the grounds of the palace. Fountains sprayed water high into the clear blue sky and flowers of all colours burst from ground to meet us. “Welcome to your home for the next few months, Riley,” Maxwell said. The castle itself was extravagant with gold trims and ancient carvings built into the exterior. “This is where I’m staying? I didn’t realise I’d be living in the palace,” I said, suddenly feeling very overwhelmed. My apartment was probably half the size of a singular room in this spectacular building. I had done nothing to deserve this type of, literally, royal treatment. “Most of the nobility live here while the social season is underway, including all the ladies vying for Liam’s hand,” Maxwell explained. “Yeah, living under one roof just makes it easier to attend the rose ceremony later,” Drake joked, giving away a little too much about his reality TV watching habits. Maxwell rolled his eyes as the car stopped outside the grand doors, “Drake’s just kidding… at least about the roses. Anyway, I’ll show you to your room!” Maxwell hopped out the car and held the door for me. Palace staff appeared out of nowhere to take my bags and bowed to me before heading inside. “This is my cue to take off,” Drake said getting out of the car and looking at me once more. “See you around… if you’re lucky.” I watched him as he walked away. I scrunched up my nose as I tried to figure out what his game was. I was so convinced he just had a natural dislike for me but as the plane journey had gone on, it seemed that he was almost testing me, trying to see how far he could push me before I snapped. I wondered if I was only a social experiment to him, a play thing that I was sure he would get bored of quickly. Through the doors to the castle, I was immediately greeted by more splendour and a staircase with a blushing red carpet that would rival any images of castles or mansions I had seen. The baluster was a dark wood elegantly carved. The walls were covered in portraits of the royal family and landscapes of the Cordonian countryside. I followed Maxwell slowly up the stairs. “So what’s the deal with Drake,” I asked Maxwell, wanting to enjoy my incredible surroundings but not being able to get Drake’s behaviour out of my head. “Why is he so… angry?” “Oh don’t mind him. Drake’s never really… fit in,” Maxwell said carefully. “Not used to courtly life?” I asked. “Definitely not,” he said in a matter of fact tone. “He’s a commoner. He’s always been an outsider here. Even if he is Liam’s best friend…” I wanted to know more but knew better than to pry. I let the conversation drop as Maxwell led me down corridor after corridor. There was no way I was ever going to find my way around this place with it’s suit of armour lined, high ceilinged halls. “Your room is here in the west wing. In case you need anything from me or my brother, our rooms are just a couple doors away,” he said reassuring me yet again. “I didn’t know you had a brother?” “Yeah, an older brother. His official title is Duke Bertrand Beaumont. As the eldest son, he’s the heir and I’m the spare. You’ll see him tonight. He’ll be excited to meet you,” Maxwell smiled elbowing me. I couldn’t imagine another Maxwell! So bubbly and supportive even with people he barely knew. This was a case of two had to be even better than just the one! “I’m really looking forward to meet him,” I said with full honesty. Maxwell stops short in front of an ornate door, “this is it! Here’s your room!” As we entered, I realised I needed to learn to stop my jaw automatically dropping open when I saw the splendour that was presented before me. The lavish guest room had one of the largest beds I’d ever seen, with huge detailed throws and filled with fluffy pillows. There were full length paintings, gilded ceilings and mirrors that made me feel like Alice lived here and could fall into the looking glasses. “Wow.” “As a guest, you are spared no luxury,” Maxwell smiled looking at my face. I must have looked like a young child in their first candy shop, “so there’s nothing stopping me from jumping on the bed? From raiding the mini bar?” “There’s no mini bar, but the staff here,” Maxwell gestured to the man placing my very small suitcase in the room, “will get you anything you’d like.” “Sweeeet!” I yelled, letting myself go and throwing myself backwards onto the bed. I felt my body sink into the sheets. They were soft as silk and I immediately felt like I could have drifted off into the best sleep I had ever had. Maxwell laughed, “I’ll let you settle in before your big debut tonight…” I sat up abruptly, “my what?” “I’m sorry, I keep forgetting that you’re not used to this. The first event of the social season is tonight, The Masquerade,” Maxwell made jazz hands. “It’s the ball where all the suitors will be presented to the Prince, as well as to the King. Not everyone dresses in costume… but you might need to have a think about it…” Maxwell glances doubtfully at my modest suitcase. “I’m guessing it’s unlikely you’ve got a costume or a fancy ball gown in there.” I gulped, “nope not gonna have that.” “There’s a seamstress who frequents the palace before social events to aid the ladies with any last-minute fixes to dresses. She’ll be downstairs, you should find her and ask if she has any spare dresses in your size,” Maxwell said. “Thank you, Maxwell. This is all very overwhelming but you are being so helpful,” I half smiled. “Remember. Tonight is very important. It’s your chance to make a first impression on all the influential people at court and to stand apart from everyone else!” he stated. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this,” I said more confidently, standing up and straightening my posture.

It took me a while, but I finally managed to follow Maxwell’s directions down through the castle to the room that was temporarily being used as the women’s make-up and wardrobe space for the social season. As I stepped inside I heard a gasp. The gasp came from a gorgeous woman in the back corner of the room, dressed only in her bra and knickers. I immediately went beetroot as she moved the dress she was holding to cover herself. “Sorry! So sorry,” I said. Damn it, Riley! What did Maxwell just say about making a good impression?! “I didn’t realise someone was already here…” I continued rambling. The woman laughed, her laughter was the type that was infectious and I felt a cool relief wash over my embarrassment, “No problem. I should have put up a sign or something!” Still holding the dress to her near-naked body, she approached me, each step as dainty as the next, extending her hand, “I’m Hana. I suppose you’re also here to prepare for the Masquerade.” I shook her hand. “You’re just like me… searching desperately at last minute for something to wear!” I had been warned of vicious women who took no prisoners. Hana seemed competent and caring, rather than someone who would shiv me with a stiletto. “More or less,” I replied, not wanting to give away too much in case I was reading her wrong. “Just let me slip my dress on and I can show you around. The seamstress has already left for the day,” Hana said. I turned around so that she could dress. I could hear her struggling with the zipper. “Do you need a hand?” I asked, still staring at the door. “That would be amazing,” she giggled. I helped slide the zipper up her dress, that suited her petit and slim body shape perfectly. She picked up a matching mask, securing it in pace and then tossed herself a daring look in the mirror. She turned to me, grinning, “Thank you. Not many people in court are like you...” “Helpful?” I asked. “Nice,” she said, a steady smile on her face. “Ah this dress is perfect!” Hana spins, showing off her skirt in full twirl for me. “Now, what about you? Let’s find you a dress!” It only took Hana a moment to find me a stunning, long, white ball gown with cold shoulder sleeves and sexy slit up the side of my leg. It was everything I needed to look at myself and feel transformed into the princess I wanted to be. It covered all those bumps I did not like, was the perfect length and showed off all the parts of my body I loved. Hana secured a stunning silver masquerade mask to my face and I truly looked the part of pauper become princess. “You look wonderful,” she smiled admiring her handy work. “You did a wonderful job!” I responded, glad I had somehow already made a friend in this strange place.

[mikeyhatesit113]

forever and never: Chapter 2

“You know you almost got shot last night?”

My dad’s voice on the other end of the phone was stern and serious.

“Come again?” I asked.

“You came in late last night, and she was scared out of her mind. If you would have taken one step towards our bedroom, she would have shot you.”

My dad was referring to his new girlfriend, Tammy. I was utterly confused.

“I was just hanging out with my friends, and I come in that late every night. She knows that. I thought I was being super quiet,” I said.

“Well you were making plenty of noise. She was scared out of her mind. Be more quiet next time,” my dad demanded.

Wait…can we rewind to the ‘she almost shot me’ part, and question why you’re continuing to let her hold your handgun at night?

This conversation was just an annexation of the crumbling home life I was experiencing at the time. I had spent 7 long years of growing up under my grandparents’ roof, as I always understood that my over-the-road trucker father could not afford a place of his own.

Or so I thought.

However, my dad had recently met a new woman and less than 1 month later, he rented a townhouse so they could live together. I had to follow him, of course.

Not that I wanted to go. I loved living at my grandparents’ house, but I was 19 years old and with my dad finally moving out, I had no choice but to go with him.

I hated that townhouse. A sheet of tin foil is thicker than those walls were. On top of it all, his new girlfriend clearly didn’t like that I was living there and occupying a room at Castle Paper Walls. She wanted the townhouse for only her, my dad, and her two children that she had part-time custody of. Without me there, think of the space she could have had!

So much room for activities!

Everything I did around that house became an issue, including taking a Mountain Dew out of the refrigerator. I wasn’t welcome to them, as I was not involved in the original “4 for $12” purchase.

My dad wasn’t the most secure guy either, for a man who just locked in a 12 month lease with a complete stranger. He called me one day and told me, “If Tammy ever romantically approaches you when I’m not around, please tell me.”

Wait...so what are we doing? Is this real life?

My escape from the turmoil at home was going to work and having a good time.

Janie and the fellow staff members would listen to the stories of my everyday struggles with family members and odd friends. They were the perfect audience, and their laughter helped me look at my life as the slap-stick comedy it was turning out to be.

I tried to spend as much time as I could away from ‘home’, which is why on the night of November 1st, 2007, I was walking alone in a dark parking lot.

It was a cool, autumn night, and I deemed it a good opportunity to get some fresh air.

That’s when my phone unexpectedly sprung to life, the bright screen lighting up the night around me.

It was a text message.

As it was after 9 on a Thursday, I couldn’t imagine who would be contacting me at that time of night.

I looked down and squinted my eyes at my bright screen.

It was a text.

From Janie.

And then another text.

And then another one.

Followed by another one.

And these weren’t just short texts with simple greetings. They were lengthy messages with lots of information.

Had something happened with work?

I started reading the first text, and something happened inside of me.

I don’t know if my heart sunk, or if it skipped a beat, but there was a reaction nonetheless to such an unexpected statement.

“I don’t know how to say this, but I have fallen for you.”

I couldn’t quite comprehend what I was reading, but then the texts kept coming.

To paraphrase,

“I have feelings for you.”

“I’ve been feeling this way for a while now.”

“I’m not happy in my marriage.”

“I know there’s an age gap between us, but my parents are even further apart in age, and they’re totally happy together.”

I stared at my phone screen, unable to fully process what I was reading.

Was this some kind of joke?

Seriously…I assumed she was probably surrounded by people and they were all laughing and high-fiving, waiting for my response.

This just wasn’t possible. I was at her house less than a month before, talking to her husband, Jay, in their kitchen. I liked Jay. I was almost certain the feeling was mutual.

And every time I had been to their home, I sensed no discontent.

No tension. No passive aggressive comments.

Nothing.

They truly came off like the perfect American family.

However, that perfect perception was a stark contrast to the information that was spewing onto my phone screen.

Just me and my phone, alone in this dark parking lot, shouldering this sudden burden.

I am a firm believer that life gives us critical tests at crucial times, where the choices we make define our character, and dictate the events that follow.

This was one of those tests. Tied with a bow.

I put my phone back in my pocket and continued walking. I did not respond, because I just didn’t know what to say.

My phone lit up again.

“Please say something, Michael.”

I continued walking, placing one foot in front of the other while my head spun.

As far as I was concerned, I had two options. For starters, my employment at the daycare center had been plunged into serious jeopardy. The center’s director had just professed her “love” for me, so my employment status was irrevocably altered, if not terminated altogether.

But still, I had 2 options.

1. Tell her that she misread everything about our friendship, wish her well, and never return to a place that paid only $7 an hour.

OR

2. Attempt to talk her off the ledge, assist her in rectifying her obvious confusion, and pretend that we could just be friends after such a conversation. Also, continue earning only $7 an hour.

Eventually, I had arrived back home. My father’s girlfriend had since gone to bed, and I sat in the dark living room alone.

I picked up my phone.

“Hey,” I began, my brain struggling more than my fingers to find the right words. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’m confused by all of this.”

“Can you come over here? I’m at Sheila’s house,” she wrote back.

“It’s late, and I don’t know if that’s a good idea. We can talk tomorrow?” I offered.

I knew the last thing in the world to be considered a “good idea” would have been to go over there and talk in person. This thing needed to simmer for a while.

“Can you please come over here? I feel like we need to talk about this tonight,” she pleaded.

“Um…”

This was my friend asking this of me. Technically my boss, which added a complete new dimension altogether.

“Please?” she begged.

This was the kind of decision in life that truly separates the men from the boys.

Wise men from fools.

She wasn’t in danger. She wasn’t stranded anywhere. She wasn’t in jeopardy.

By all accounts, I should have ignored her text messages, went to work the next day, and let her, and her only, share the awkward exchanges and glances.

The problem was, I wasn’t a man. And though I wasn’t seduced, not even in the least, I wasn’t thinking like a real man needed to.

I grabbed my car keys.

I wonder how my life would have turned out if I wouldn’t have left the townhouse that night. I wonder who I’d be today, and where I’d be now, if I hadn’t given in.

But as my car traveled along those back roads that night, it seemed that the future was the furthest thing from my mind.

20 minutes later, my car pulled into Sheila’s gravel driveway. I got out of my car and entered her backyard, where Sheila greeted me. “She’s inside,” said Sheila with a curious expression. It appeared as if she wanted to start laughing. It appeared that she knew how preposterous the situation was, but the beer in her hand was stopping her from addressing it in any type of appropriate way.

As I stated earlier, she was the owner of the entire daycare center. This was not only an inevitable professional mess, but it was also a personal one, as she and her husband had always been close with Janie and Jay.

Unfortunately, everyone’s adult mind-set, mine included, had taken a holiday that night.

I entered the house and did not immediately see Janie. I stood there awkwardly, questioning myself silently if I was doing the right thing. Should I leave?

Within seconds, Janie appeared through the doorway, also holding a beer. I was surprised, as I did not think that she had been drinking when she spilled her heart out to me. I thought it came from a personal place during an honest moment of clarity.

I was mistaken.

We made small talk before agreeing to go upstairs to Sheila’s daughter’s room to talk in privacy.

We entered the room and closed the door behind us. Janie sat down on the floor beside the bed, arms wrapped around her knees like a confused teenager who wasn’t sure who to take to prom. She took another sip of beer, smirking at how uncomfortable this was.

“So…what is going on?” I asked, standing at the other end of the room.

On cue, Janie launched into how she was unhappy in her marriage, and that she only stayed in it because she felt like she had to. If she even thought about divorcing Jay, her family would most definitely shun and disown her. She claimed that she had gotten married too young, but after Jay went into the military, they could only coexist due to the periods of time apart while Jay was on deployment.

Then she divulged that she had been unfaithful to Jay multiple times before. She claimed that she had slept with an old high school boyfriend when Jay went off to boot camp, and years later, she had an affair with one of Jay’s superiors in the military.

“After we had slept together, Jay and I were at a social event, and he introduced me to one of his superior officers. I looked at the guy and realized it was the same guy I had just slept with,” she recalled.

Then she smirked. “Boy, that was awkward when our eyes met.”

She also attempted to justify her extramarital adventures by speculating that Jay had cheated on her while he was overseas.

I listened to her words, but instead of seeing the raw irony sitting right in front of me, I could only confirm that she was indeed unhappy in her marriage.

I viewed her cheating as a simple result of her feeling trapped and unhappy for years. I mean, what kind of family would force a woman to stay in a marriage she didn’t want to be in? Did they not care about her happiness?

She also claimed that Jay had become verbally abusive to her and treated her poorly. She claimed that she often felt like he chose drinking over spending time with her.

Her long story weaved and wove its way back around to meeting me, and how she felt happy when she was with me.

To this day, I still don’t know why. I was 19 and care-free, but that was truly because I had little to nothing to care about.

My car was 13 years old. I lived at home with my dad and his girlfriend. My only bills were car insurance and cell phone. I wasn’t going to college, and I wasn’t pursuing anything long term.

This was a stark contrast to Jay, who had served in the military, was a great provider and father, had a really nice job, and had skills that could cement a future for her children. Plus, her family loved him.

But this enigma over the cause for her attraction to me also served as a curse, because it made me think that with having so little to offer her, maybe it was true love after all?

In any regard, I told her that she needed to figure some things out before anything else could happen. I didn’t drive to Shelli’s house that night to become a homewrecker, and I wasn’t about to get involved in a marriage that wasn’t mine.

I told her that I liked Jay, I respected her marriage and family, and the time wasn’t right for me to get involved.

God strike me dead if I’m lying about that. That’s exactly what I told her. Ask her.

But this is where I went wrong.

Janie had been drinking, and as it was now well after midnight, she was in no condition to drive.

I recommended that she lay down and sleep it off, and she asked me to stay with her.

I agreed.

For the second time that night, I sealed my fate.

She laid down on the bed, and I laid down on the opposite side.

Clothes were on. We weren’t touching, and we weren’t cuddling.

With Jay at home with her children, I was intent on not letting this night go any further. There was too much on the line.

God strike me dead if I’m lying about that, too.

The bright blue numbers from Shelli’s daughter’s alarm clock lit up the room as if dawn was already on the horizon, but the 12:13 on its face indicated otherwise.

I closed my eyes, willing sleep to come, but Janie reached out and pulled me toward her. I tried to scooch away, insisting that she go to sleep, and she relented.

But a moment later, she pulled me close to her again.

I should have left. But I didn’t.

I once again insisted that she get some sleep, but she wasn’t having any of it. I smelled the beer on her breath as she tried pulling my head towards her, searching for a kiss.

It was a kiss I did not want, but I felt my resolve slowly eroding.

But I was intent. This could not happen. This wasn’t right. It just wasn’t.

I resisted, but another advance immediately came. Janie forced her face towards mine, her lips finding my lips in the pale darkness.

It was a kiss I did not want, but it was a kiss I suddenly returned.

A betrayal of people I knew. A betrayal of myself. A betrayal of all that I thought I believed.

I kissed her back, and you might as well say that my innocence died right there in the blue glow of that alarm clock.

We did not have sex.

Somehow, she fell asleep and so did I, and we both woke up around 4am.

In silence, we both grabbed our things and left Shelli’s house, going to our cars without saying anything to each other except mumbling a brief farewell.

We were retreating back to our own separate worlds. She was going home to her sleeping family, and I was going home to possibly get shot by a paranoid woman with a handgun.

This wasn’t the movies.

There was no kiss goodbye. No alibi. No soap opera-worthy speeches.

I got inside my car and the engine roared to life in the cold, crisp dark. The sun had not yet risen, allowing us to still move under the cover of darkness.

Our own personal twilight, where things are easily hidden in the absence of light.

But the sun would rise in a few short hours, and it would shed a light upon what we had done, and who we had become overnight.

I would awake that next morning in a bright, sunny room with the smell of her perfume still on my shirt.

An intoxicating memory of the night before. And the dawning of a new universe that I was now wide awake in.

And that’s not always a good thing.

In my case, it sure as hell wasn’t.

Buckle up.

“Why don't you just... Sleep up, sleep up? You can call me in the morning when you’re feeling all blue-like Leave us, leave us In the past Took our love and you put it in a noose, so Why should I forgive you? You’re the reason I choose Feelings, feelings Feelings over everybody else I knew.”

Thousand Below “171 Xo”

NOTE: Though this is my side of the story, including my own personal recollections and opinions, the reader should not consider this note anything other than a work of literature. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

[sinesalvatorem]

Taking Me On A Date: A Comprehensive Guide

(As comprehensive as I can make a Tumblr post I wrote on the spur of the moment, that is. I will try to update over time with more info and links. You can also use this as general advice on interacting with me.)

I recently got into some conversations about how and why someone might want to take me on a date. As such, I’ve decided to write up in one place as much as I can figure out about what I’d want out of a date and what other people should expect from me.

What I Like:

I am bisexual, and am happy to go on dates with people of any gender/sex. I lean androphilic, which means I’m into a cluster of traits that tend to be correlated with maleness. I find testosterone-influenced features and masculine gender presentation and stuff to be sexy. However, they’re just part of what I find attractive, and I can be attracted to people with very little of either.

I’m someone with a mostly-male body (I haven’t been on HRT very long) and a very feminine personality / presentation / behaviour set. I can be reasonably described as a transgirl, though these days I’m somewhat confused by what being trans means. However, the important thing to note is that in any situation with gender roles I will almost certainly be most comfortable and happy in the female one.

This means that, among other things, I’d like you to take the initiative as much as possible. Suggest what we do, place an order on my behalf (after consulting me, ofc), escalate things yourself, etc. If things are going well, I would very much like it if you tried to kiss me (or asked to kiss me, if you prefer). [How to tell if I want to be kissed] If I really like you but I have to take the initiative to go anywhere, I will have a hard time, because doing so is very out of sync with my personality. I can and will do it if it’s clear that we both want it and you aren’t moving, but be aware that this is vastly dispreferred.

I also really like being complimented. You can be as shallow or silly or dramatic as you want, and I won’t interpret your compliments as fake or be repulsed by them. For more on how I perceive (and use) complements, see here.

I usually enjoy physical contact. In general, leaning against me, resting your hand on my leg, putting your arm around me, etc are all very nice. If for some reason they aren’t, I’ll pull away and say something to that effect. However, this is rare. Overall, err on the side of touching me, if you would like to. Kissing is as described above. If making out (ie: sustained, enthusiastic kissing) ensues, you can grope to your heart’s content.

Going on a date with you does not necessarily mean I would like to sleep with you, nor do I assume that everyone who goes on a date with me would like to sleep with me. However, it is a possibility. What I like sexually is an essay in itself but, luckily, an essay I’ve already written. You can read the guide to my sexual preferences here or browse my NSFW blog here.

What I Dislike:

Please do not issue direct commands to me for any reason. For anything you would command me to do, you should just ask me to do it instead. Seriously. Using the imperative with me ends very badly. Please consider this a hard limit.

I don’t like being talked down to. Don’t get me wrong - I like learning about things. However, talking to me like I’m too dumb to get what you mean, or saying things to the effect of “Oh, of course you wouldn’t know this”, will generally annoy me quite a bit. I like feeling like I’m learning something collaboratively with someone else, rather than providing them with an opportunity to feel superior.

Relatedly, I don’t like getting into heated arguments on dates. Especially if it’s in a public venue. I’m OK with arguing in a general sense, but it kind of counteracts the date experience. Here I can’t say I’m perfect - I might very well make the comment that leads to the argument. However, if I notice that this has happened and point it out, I would very much appreciate it if you were willing to set the argument aside for another time.

If I state a boundary in advance, please DO NOT approach it in the expectation that I will stop you at the right time. I encourage you to verbally ask what to do about something that seems like an edge case, but do not give the impression in your actions that you’re going to violate the boundary because you expect me to enforce it myself.

For an example taken from a Less Wrong thread:

Person 1: The other week I was making out and cuddling with a girl, and we'd already explicitly negotiated that we wouldn't be having sex. So at some point we were spooning, and I asked "Can I touch your breasts?". She hesitated, so I said, "Ah, that's a no, don't worry". She was obviously relieved, and we continued without any problems. This sort of thing only comes up a small minority of the time, but when it does I think it's actually pretty important to verbalise things. So I'm wondering whether you have a different system, or just never find yourself needing to check in with someone that directly?

Person 2: With the breasts, no, I wouldn't explicitly ask in that way. Hands go on body, hands caress slowly toward breasts. Pay attention to response. Another way is to look where you intend the hands to go, and go there. Perhaps a comment on the breasts first.

Person 1:  For me it really depends on my model of what I think they want. Like, assume I'm pretty sure that there'll be a line somewhere. Obviously, the right thing to do isn't just "escalate until they give an explicit 'no' (either verbally, or by moving my hand away)". But even if you just proceed cautiously and keep gauging their response, they're likely to spend a lot of the time thinking about when/whether you're going to push past where they're comfortable, and steeling themselves to give that no when it happens. Especially with girls, most will have had more than a few negative experiences with pushy guys.

What person 1 did is an example of what I’m in favour of. What person 2 did would freak me out. Person 1′s response perfectly illustrates why. I frankly do not have the mental energy to keep track of how close you’re coming to overstepping my boundaries so I can enforce them. If you want to go further, please use words first.

(Note that I’m not saying that what Person 2 did is in any way Universally Bad. It probably works fine for some people. However, it does not work for me. I am writing this guide in advance specifically because what works for one person may not work for another, and I want to clarify where I stand.)

How To Communicate With Me:

When speaking to me, there is basically no need to worry whether what you’re saying to me is too private/TMI/unwanted/etc. I have no “Woah! Too much information!” reaction to speak of. If you’d like to tell me something, I’d like to know it, because I am infinitely curious about everyone. I am always in favour of deepening knowledge. (However, I will generally try to track how I speak to you to ensure I’m not stepping over any of the usual boundaries. This is me asymmetrically giving you permission to disregard that for me.)

I am somewhat guess culture in that I can’t clearly communicate my preferences one-on-one in-the-moment. (Which is why it’s so much easier to just write up this Tumblr post in advance.) Here is a very detailed explanation of what’s going on with my communication style. In case you TL;DR (though it’s only 2 pages), the important bits to note are:

I encourage people to ask me whenever they want something from me, because communication needs to happen somehow. If you can hedge it by giving me an obvious acceptable out (“but I know it’s far away…”, “but if you’re too busy…”, etc), that would be great, because it would feel 100% safe, but you don’t have to.

If you give me an out and I don’t take it, but I do raise an objection, assume that’s my true objection and you can troubleshoot it. If you don’t give me an out and I raise an objection, it may be my way of grasping for an escape clause. In that case, only troubleshoot to the first level, and back off if I keep giving excuses. If I start trying to pull out my hair, you probably broke me.

I view going on a date as exploratory. I want to learn how much I like you and how well we get along. I can usually tell pretty quickly how well I like someone from the cues I pick up in interaction. By the end of a first date, there’s a ~80% chance that I know whether I’m into you. However, if I’m unsure, I’ll lean toward trying another time. You can definitely ask about scheduling a second date right after the first one, and you can call me back as soon as you want. Rules about how long you need to wait are silly IMO.

I hate talking on the phone or via email. Instant messaging through Tumblr or Facebook is preferred, and SMS is OK. Even so, I am sometimes bad at keeping in touch with people online, even if I like them a lot and/or can consistently meet them in person. More details here.

I am OK with you being as explicit (or crass) as you want about the degree to which you’re into me from the get-go. This could be “You’re OK to hang out with” or “You are what gives the universe meaning” or anything inbetween. Yes, I’m completely aware of how weird that is in a first date context. No, I don’t particularly care that it is. (I will probably avoid being weird, though, because not everyone is as weirdness-tolerant as I am.)

After the date, if you invite me to go back to your house, I will assume that this is a polite way of asking to sleep with me, because this is how that’s generally used. (You can also directly ask me if I want to have sex with you but, if you’re looking for a polite way to ask, this is ideal.) If you ask me to head back to your place and I don’t want to sleep with you, I’ll decline, which works well enough if what you were actually asking was whether I wanted to sleep with you.

However, it’s possible that you want to invite me to hang out at your house for non-sexual reasons! And then my declining would be unfortunate if I actually did want to hang out more! In that case, you can say you want me to go home with you “for non-sexual reasons”. In that case, I won’t assume that you definitely don’t want to sleep with me, but I will assume that you won’t be disappointed if I decide not to. If you don’t want to sleep with me, or you do want to while also wanting me to visit for other reasons, this is the way to ask.

Logistics:

I live in the San Francisco Bay Area so, if you also live there, you can go out with me now. If not, you may be able to go out with me if/when I visit your city in the future.

To the greatest degree possible, I want you to plan it. Of course I want you to consult me on what I want and to ask if I approve of the place/time before we go but, the more you take over the planning, the more I’ll enjoy it. From The Art of Charm:

If you want the girl to like you and enjoy herself on the date, then you’ve got to take control every step of the way.  Deciding what to do, where to go, how long it will take – all that logistical stuff – it’s all up to you.

The ability to lead is something all women find attractive in a guy.  And by taking on this burden of responsibility, it means that the girl you’re out with doesn’t have to worry about these things.  She can just relax, go with the flow, and enjoy herself and the time you’re spending together.

Frankly, the claim that “all women” find this attractive is false. However, I find this attractive in people, so I won’t deny that this is good advice about me. Specifically, the thing about it relaxing your date would be super true of me, and I will definitely enjoy my time with you a lot more if I can focus on you instead of on logistics.

Getting around will require me using the train system unless you want to pick me up yourself or pay for an Uber/Lyft for me. I can’t drive and I have a vendetta against buses. As such, I would appreciate it if we met up somewhere near a Caltrain or BART station.

I try to be very clear on whether I’m going to show up to something. If I cancel, I try to say so as far in advance as possible, and I also like to form plans at least two days in advance (preferably 3-5). I also try to confirm via messaging whether we’re definitely getting together on the day of the meeting, so the other person can back out. I am sometimes late due to the vagueries of the train system (or annoyingly early, because I almost always leave home early), but so far I’ve never flaked on my dates without saying anything. I would strongly encourage you to likewise tell me in advance if it isn’t going to work out - doubly so if I make the 5½ hour roundtrip to Berkeley (which I’m willing to do if we actually meet).

If things involve money, I would greatly appreciate it if you paid. This is because I’m broke (am recent immigrant who is new to the jerb-thiefing). However, don’t worry about me being an expensive date - you can openly optimise for thrift and I’ll be down with it. I also try to order things from the cheaper end of the menu. I disapprove of spending other people’s money as much as I disapprove of spending my own.

If going out involves getting food, we’ll need to discuss my very complicated and kind of restrictive diet. Just bringing that up in advance.

See Also:

Guides on how to go on dates that I approve of (for giving good advice on how to go out with me) are this Reddit post, this article from The Art of Charm, these two WikiHow pieces (Article 1 & Article 2), and this guide from Instructables. Rescripting Sex by Cliff Pervocracy is also relevant.

My OkCupid dating profile and match questions, and my face and voice.

My Tumblr profile, my description of how to message me online, my post asking to meet up with people in the Bay, and my general social skills advice.