#powers/no powers choose your own adventure

[builder051]

HYBB 2023 Valentines Day Challenge (Date night at Lucy's: Is it in the water? Or were we just made for each other?)

Powers/No Powers

Warnings: talk of rocky relationships, mental health (not major), mental health meds, alcohol, mentions of war, emeto, food mentions (not major), fluff (not major)

_________________

They've been out maybe three times in the last three years. To make things absolutely clear, Steve's more than grateful for each experience, in and of itself. They've been amazing nights, individually, and as a trend in Bucky's journey in, whatever to call it. Finding himself again.

They're back to living under the same roof, and things are still touchy. Well, they've barely stopped being touchy. Steve and Bucky sleep in the same bed again. They can hug. Cuddle. Drink coffee, and prepare each other's brews in just the right ways. It brings smiles. Happiness. They tell each other "I love you."

The bar down the block, past the gym and the pizza joint, is doing a Valentines Day special. Buy one get one drinks and appetizers, plus live music. A Beatles cover band. It sounds nice. It sounds like just their speed, as long as it's not too crowded.

Steve poses the question about a week in advance, and he's thrilled with Bucky's tentative agreement.

"Yeah." Bucky had nodded slowly. "I think that's... That's... Yeah."

Steve had considered offering Sam as a third wheel, or inviting Laura and Clint to come join, but if Bucky was willing to share the experience solo with Steve, he felt all the more fluttery inside. He felt younger. He felt like he was... accomplishing something.

The evening of, Steve leaves work early. He parks his bike in the garage, then heads upstairs to shower. Bucky's in the bedroom already, standing in front of the mirror on the closet door in his underwear, hair wet and dripping down the back of his neck.

"Hi," Steve says as he approaches, unbuttoning his shirt and wadding it up for the laundry. "You ok?"

"Yeah." Bucky seems to break from a trance. "I just. Clothes."

"Socks," Steve advises. "Then, whatever you want. It's kind of cold out, but..." He shrugs.

Bucky gives him a half smile and nods, then enters the closet. Steve can hear him aggressively attempting to locate appropriate socks as he strips and turns on the hot water in the bathroom.

He's just nervous, Steve tells himself. Steve himself is nervous, if he tells the truth. The chance of a public breakdown is real. He won't play percentages, but Bucky's still fragile. He probably will be for the rest of his life. Steve hates to think of what could happen if Bucky trips over a shoelace or something and wants Laura and Clint to come and comfort him instead of Steve. His one and only Steve. Steve's one and only Bucky.

Dusk falls into night, and they get into the car. Steve purposely put on only one spritz of cologne, but he can still smell himself in an awkward, overpowering way. Like a kid who's overused a can of Axe. Bucky smells heavily of Dial Gold and laundry detergent. Steve wonders if he rinsed himself properly in the shower, but there's no complaint there. Bucky's spiffed up for him. For this. And the thought of that makes Steve's butterflies go wild. He hopes he isn't blushing.

They park in front of the gym and hightail it across the strip of closed businesses and crooked cars to the neon lights up at the corner. Steve holds open the door, and immediately there's a gush of air tinted with beer, fried food, and thumping that falls slightly off beat with the classic rock music playing inside.

Bucky seems to have no qualms about entering, though, and he glances back at Steve before jutting his chin toward two empty stools at the bar. They're positioned on the corner, so Bucky won't have his back to the door, but Steve thinks it's pretty adventurous that he isn't seeking out the farthest corner.

"Yeah, that's a good spot," Steve encourages. Bucky gives a single nod and practically runs to the stools, as if they're in danger of being taken.

They sit. Steve takes off his leather jacket and covers his stool before using it as an extra cushion. Bucky puts his elbow on the bar and lets his stump shoulder, hidden in the swaths of his flannel shirt sleeve, bump against Steve's arm. Whether it's accidental or affectionate or grounding, Steve can't tell, but he's happy to be the buffer all the same.

The bartender comes up and asks what they'll have. Steve orders a Sam Adams, then squints at the chalkboard on the wall before choosing a food item.

Bucky stutters. "A, um, a coke with... with a shot of..." He seems to scan the various bottles and brews behind the counter. "Um. Maybe just a coke..."

"How about a coke and a shot of Jim Beam on the side?" Steve offers, hoping the script is helpful and not patronizing.

"Yeah. That's. Yeah. I'll have that." Bucky nods to the bartender.

"And for eats?" the bartender prompts.

"Um..." Steve fully expects Bucky to order French fries. He's gotten them here before, and he's become used to eating potatoes from various places. Maybe with a little ketchup or mayonnaise here and there. It's not a broad palette, but it's something. "Onion rings?"

Steve raises his eyebrows.

"Ranch?" asks the bartender.

Bucky pauses a beat. "Ok."

"I'll just share with him," Steve says when he gets the next inviting glance. "We'll keep you posted."

"Alright, then." The bartender smiles and turns away, only to come back a second later with their drinks.

"This ok?" Steve checks in.

Bucky takes a moment to tear the paper off his straw before jamming in between the ice cubes in his coke.

"Mm hm." Bucky takes a drink of his soda, then argues the straw back down to the bottom of the cup when it begins to float upward on the bubbles of carbonation.

The last time or so they've been here, Bucky's had a beer. Just one per visit, as far as Steve can remember. Bucky doesn't seem to enjoy the sloshy warmth and disorientation as much as he used to. Not as much as he used to before the war. Not as much as he seems to when he fucks with his meds.

A coke and a shot, though, it's almost humorous to Steve. That was Bucky...way back. Stealing sips from his father's liquor cabinet before they'd even graduated. Before he'd signed on. If he's remembering, Steve's not messing with that. Bucky can tell him, at his own pace. If he's progressing, it's great. But if he's being wild... Steve feels the need to keep his guard up a little.

Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band begins to play from the music platform, which is behind them and a little to the left.

"I've never really gotten this song," Steve admits, his lips close to Bucky's ear so he knows he can hear him properly. "It's like a spoof, right? They're a band singing as if they're another band singing?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." Bucky toys with his shot. He dips his finger in it, then puts it in his mouth. "That's some strong stuff."

Steve grins. "That's why people use a mixer." He looks pointedly at Bucky's coke. "Dump it in there, if you want."

"Nah." Bucky shakes his head. "Don't want to ruin the coke."

"You have had alcohol before," Steve reminds him, a little unsurely. "You remember Clint's Halloween party? And, like, a long time ago?"

"Yeah." Bucky cocks his head to the side. "I just... It feels like a lifetime ago. Both of those..."

"I'm not saying you have to do anything," Steve says quickly, just in case he's accidentally created a situation with pressure. "I'm just saying, like," he pauses, choosing his words carefully. "You have options, you know?"

"Yeah." Bucky doesn't get time to say anything else, for the bartender is back with a steaming basket of onion rings, still sizzling in grease from the fryer. The lining paper sticks up, fresh and stiff, and boats of ranch dressing and ketchup sit precariously on either side.

"Oh, wow. Thanks." Steve settles the basket on the bar and accepts the stack of paper napkins on offer as well.

"That smells amazing." Steve passes Bucky a fork and several napkins, but he doesn't accept right away. He finishes chugging his shot, swallows heavily, slams the glass down on the bar, then looks at Steve and seems to realize what he's supposed to be doing.

"Oh." Bucky clears his throat. "That's really. Yeah. Something else."

Steve burns his tongue and swigs his beer as a rescue measure. If he had space in his mouth, he'd check in with Bucky again. Ask if he's alright. He looks tense again. Maybe the shot had gone down too hard.

Steve should tell him to take a sip of coke, but before he can form words, Bucky's already forking an onion ring into the ranch, which he drips onto the basket's paper lining, and shoving it into his mouth. He chews only a couple of times before swallowing again. Hard. Then he puts his fist to his lips, the fork sticking out the other end like an improperly secured weapon.

The band strikes up Yellow Submarine. The singer's accent is just a touch over exaggerated, and Steve can see his shadow swaying back and forth, miming the sickly rhythm of the deck of an ocean liner.

"Hey," Steve says, maybe a little coarsely. He means to be gentle, but his throat feels raw. "You doing ok?"

"I, uh." Bucky swallows heavily. He shakes his head, but ducks his chin at the same time, so he could just as easily have been forming a nod. "I need--" He scrambles his feet toward the floor and looks frantically around to the corners of the crowded room. "Probably-- throw up."

"Sure. Yeah." Steve puts both hands on Bucky's shoulders, then points to the lit sign for the gent's. "Right there."

Bucky stumbles off his stool for the first step, but makes haste with his quick trot and rushes the door without causing a scene. Steve breathes a small sigh of relief, then starts counting down. He should give Bucky, what, a minute's head start? Thirty seconds?

He makes it to twenty with the slow countdown in his head, but Steve can't contain himself past that. The next ten seconds will be eaten up with the walk across the room, right?

Unsure if they'll return to their seats, Steve drops cash for the bill and a tip onto the counter, then collects his jacket and weaves his way toward the bathroom. Half the bar seems to be singing, or at least laughing, along with the band as they carry on with the ridiculous chorus.

Yellow submarine.

Yellow submarine.

Steve would probably puke, too, if he was stuck in a yellow submarine. God, the water pressure would be unbearable. Did people still die of the bends?

The single light bulb in the ceiling in incandescent, and for that, Steve's grateful. No need to spike up a migraine when Bucky's already feeling awful. The bathroom's shabby, but clean. Steve immediately hears Bucky hurling in the first stall, and he feels half heartbreak and half pleasure that Bucky, handicapped as he may be, has left the accessible stall for someone who needs it more than he does. It's classic Bucky all over.

"Hey, Buck." Steve announces his presence. "It's just me."

"Mmph." There's a retch, then a few coughs.

"Can I come in?" Steve asks tetremoniously?

Bucky spits into the toilet, bringing on an echo. "Yeah." It's barely a croak, but it's definite.

"Ok, yeah." Steve eases the stall door open. He gets a glimpse of Bucky's ghostly pale, sweaty face as he tries to look back at him, but after a second, it's lost as Bucky vomits again. He curls his arm around the toilet seat and rests his forehead on his wrist as his body contracts, back and neck arching to push what has to be down to cola and bile out of his system.

Steve stoops, then pops a squat, carefully rubbing his hand down Bucky's back. "Too much all at once?"

"Something." Bucky spits, strings of mucous dangling from his lower lip. "I don't even..."

"Seasick," Steve says decidedly. "Right?"

"Huh." It might have been the start of a laugh. Bucky hocks and gives it another good try. "About sums it up."

"Do you want to go home?" Seve proffers. "Or maybe have some water and sit a while, if the car doesn't sound that appealing."

"I'll be good in a minute." Bucky attempts to wipe his face on his stump shoulder. "You got something different, though?"

Steve's confused. "I'm not sure I follow..."

"Fucking submarine." Bucky digs at his eye socket with the heel of his hand. "They had to be smashed. All of them. The whole time."

"Oh." Steve tries not to laugh. "I think I have a Queen album in the glove box. The Stones, too."

"Yeah?" Bucky turns sideways just enough to catch Steve's eye. "If you can fix it... I love you."

Steve smiles. "Love you too, Buck."

"I mean, I still love you even if you don't fix it..."

"I got it, I got it." Steve helps Bucky to his feet. "Can you stand it for, like five seconds? Just to get outside?"

"I think so." Bucky pulls a paper towel, then slips his hand inside Steve's.

Steve opens the door, and they're immediately assaulted with All You Need is Love.

"Great," Steve groans, maneuvering Bucky in front of him so they can make it toward the exit.

He isn't sure if Bucky means for him to hear it, but Steve sees Bucky's lips move. "'s all I need."

[grissomesque]

We were separated.

[rambunctioustoons]

porch lights and fireflies

reader/moon, word count 1000

✨

Your socked feet quietly stalk along the hardwood. Groggily trying to evade triggering the call of creaky floors, stumbling your steps as you do. 

Led between the cracks of unpolished maple right up to the suspiciously wide open doorway. Unfocused sleepy gaze not deceiving you for once. 

Moon sat alone on the porch, huddled into himself. Dimmed painted casting blended right in with the night time sky, but his hat had always been a dead give away in the dark. 

Feeling your breath catch in your throat. So often darting away from you these days, you half expect his nimble limbs to straight up and bolt away from you into the forest. So many times as he had before. 

But you can't get your hopes up. "Hey," You say, barely above a murmur. Tightening the throw blanket wrapped around your shoulders, feeling the fibres brush up tightly along your fingertips. Time slowing almost. 

Choosing to approach. Hesitantly moving forward past the doorway, past the burn out porch lights. It shuffles further away from you, evading looking at you entirely. But not running, not bolting. 

"Good to see you." 

Polite statement radiating hollow, you could do better than that. Sitting down next to him, the squeak of protest from worn down wooden steps earning you a creaky twitch of his face plate. A faint chime of the bell from his hat. 

"go sleep." He tuts. Tone lacking the heeded warning it usually had. No walled in corridors anymore to chase you in, free reign surrounding you. 

Left fumbling on if that had been the reason you've barely seen him since the 'Plex. Sun having no answers, and leaving assurances in place of words you'd just needed to hear. Dancing around concerns with hurried careful statements, but never quick enough to turn away when a faint worried hum wobbled from his casting. 

If it's more freedom he'd wanted, that they'd both wanted, you'd be more than happy to oblige. More than happy to help if they'd just stopped reverting back to old habits. Shutting you out of whatever was happening. 

This was all still new, rubbed raw like skinned knees on asphalt. 

"Go charge." You settle on, getting much too comfortable much too quick. Sliding ever so slightly closer to him proves to be a mistake. 

Shifting away again, balancing himself half off the top step at this point, goosebumps of shame prickling along your neck. Face flush as you pull back again. 

"Sorry-.. I just- I miss you.”

Words crumbling out into the open air. Brisk cold breeze cupping your cheeks, as you hear another squeak. 

Much too sharp to emit from wood, but, there's no solace to be had if your fretting breaks the stairs. Quickly getting off the stairs, out of his space. The sprawl of cold ground trickling up your legs. 

Facing his direction upright, you catch him holding a throw blanket bundled in his lap. Little time to really question it, assuming it to be some kind of comfort. One he couldn't find with you.

Made sense, in some regard you suppose. Your visage is a direct reminder of the fever dream nightmare you'd all rescued each other from. 

Celestial bots gaze turned down away from you, pinprick pupils avoiding meeting yours at any cost. Desperate to reach out, you just can't help but open your mouth again. 

"I couldn't sleep, doesn't look like you could either. I—" 

The folded bundle on their lap, rustling and shrilling sharp. Their widened eyes meeting yours, clutching the displeased creature tighter. 

It's only now, you notice a striped bushy tail peeking out from the blanket. Wiggling and swishing in dis-contempt. 

In the end, little feisty claws are no match for his clutches. A raccoon, bolts from under the covers and out into the open. Blurry haze of fur illuminated by startled, scattered fireflies. 

Moon's stance no longer hunch, sprawling themselves out lengthwise along the steps in woeful defeat. Arms outstretched and flopped against the ground. 

That solves one problem. 

You know the answer. You know. You ask anyway.

"...You were trying to bring that inside?" You ask anyway, deadpan. Fighting the wobble of amusement threatening to upturn your mouth to a grin. 

"it's small, and alone." He mumbles. "likes peach slices." 

That. Explains why the peaches kept going missing, and Sun's insistence the fruit just goes bad super duper quick. Yet straight up refused to quit buying heaps of peaches. Glazed fruit decorated in smoothies and pies just didn't justify the madness. 

"It's got friends nearby," Leaning against the worn banister. "I'm sure of it." 

Moon hums. An off centred acknowledgement it hears you, but. He's for sure going to keep trying to bring raccoons into the house. 

No dice convincing him otherwise. Roaming around the yard, settling to lay down on a patch of overgrown grass. Your gaze trailing sleepily between the stars. 

"Is that what you've been doing out here, all this time?" 

"sometimes."  

Slinking down the rest of the stairs, crawling over to you to nestled up against your side in an impressive but entirely unnecessary half roll to get to you. 

Face plate pressed flat to the ground, theatrically slumping himself down. Like his whole body had participated in a sigh. 

A click somewhere in his upper casting, chiming alongside you as you'd giggled. 

Something gauges you'd been a front seat witness to an impatient attempt to whisk the creature inside. Too bad you'd missed the other attempts then, or joined in supplying the demand for treats. 

Moon stays pressed down in the grass, dawned in a t-shirt and hastily sown together pants. Often radiating lukewarm or cold, you've never known the temperature to bother him much. 

"We should name it," Names spurring immediately to mind, but you hadn't swaddled it like a baby. Didn't think that gave you any real leeway. "The raccoon." You add. 

Casually slipping the throw blanket out from under you, tossing it over the two of you. Moon making no attempt to move away. 

Muffled voice eventually piping up from the twilight grass blades. "peaches.” 

[slay-the-heroine]

"I want to clear the air before we agree to anything."

The Narrator:

Are — Are you serious?

Voice of the Cold:

Ooh. Unpredictable. I like it.

The Narrator:

No, not just unpredictable, but self-destructive!

Voice of the Prince:

You are not going to try and sway our decisions. This is the decision made. If this is what we deem fit for the situation, then it is what we'll do.

Voice of the Cold:

We're just testing the waters. Besides, it can't go too poorly. Have you seen her?

The Narrator:

Your "testing" will get everyone killed, you know that? But of course you do.

The Narrator:

Keeping your distance, you lob the blade towards the Heroine's skeleton, below her floating feet.

The Narrator:

She eyes it lazily, then raises her hand and flicks her wrist.

The Narrator:

As she does so, the blade begins to defy gravity, floating up into the air. It sways back and forth like a feather falling in reverse. It stops at her hand, and the bottom of the handle rests on the tip of her longest finger.

"I don't care about your stupid knife, killer."

The Narrator:

At the propulsion of her hand, the knife shoots straight up into the ceiling with a "thunk," embedding itself to the hilt into the mossy, rotten wood. It is entirely out of reach.

Voice of the Prince:

For us, it is. She can float.

Voice of the Cold:

What a move.

"I told you what I want. If you want me to think of you as anything but an impatient, murdering freak, then you'd shut your trap and let me out of this place."

>>>

[mansionreborn]

You can say this has been a shocking experience for the showmare

Yikes! It's a Trap page from "The Mansion" by NavitasSerusSirus and Genie Twilight

(What is this all about?)

[mantleoflight]

//Welp, went into reading stuff on Ishtar-Collective and I read the book of Power and

//my gosh

//do I want to just hold Eris in my arms and tell her it’s okay, that I forgive her and that I probably would’ve cracked like that too in her position.

//hhhhhhhhhh i love her and wish her the best just

//hhhhh

//Edit: Reading more about it and reading it again it is definitely an Eris imposter, but it really seems like this particular imposter may have been a splinter from Quria, Blade Transform, attempting to also break free of the absolute control of being Taken, or created as a lure to capture and keep a guardian in simulation and growing into its own self for reasons unknown. But regardless, I do think my gal Echo would’ve gone looking for Medusa, if only to tell who or whatever it was that she forgives it and thanks for the adventure.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

though i eventually got to read some, in earlier years goosebumps books would be the kind of series where i'd just ponder the cover art, and i always liked the drama of the monster blood illustration (the lighting/colors....sure nothing's happening in it but i felt it evoked the drama of "what if you're downstairs and something's upstairs" much like "what if you're upstairs and something's downstairs") like well too bad i guess i never got around to reading i at the time. but as of a recap yesterday i'm surprised to now be at least 90% sure i read part if not all of it, and thinking i hadn't may be due to how kind of nothing happens in it

[elytrafemme]

also i do think that it’s cool as an opener that it doesn’t really matter if you pick cats or dogs in the scheme of things. i like that kind of thing in choose your own adventures for a myriad of reasons including pacing. just the concept that some choices don’t really matter, and some choices matter a lot, and some choices matter but seem arbitrary and some choices seem important but affect nothing, are all interesting dynamics to play around with in that setting. so like i would have to guess that this was mostly to show off how the unlisted video features was going to work but it would be cool if that idea prevailed in the story line that some things just don’t really matter. because then that gives the audience a chance to ask themselves, what are the things that Do matter in this universe. and i think that’s a really interesting question that can flesh out a lot for world building and differentiate one adventure from another.

[omniscientwreck]

Very Pleased that my employment situation has led to me having enough energy to write stuff again.

[self-motivationmedia]

daylight moon ~ In Awe

[paarthursass]

Baldur's Gate 3 Companion!Tav Ask List

What if your Tav was a recruitable companion, instead of the main character? (contains major spoilers for the game, and for some dark urge runs as well)

General

Where can your Tav be recruited?  Are they first encountered on the Nautiloid, or in the Nautiloid crash region?  Or are they not recruitable until a later act?

Do the other companions have special comments or reactions upon recruiting your Tav?

Does your Tav have any comments or advice when you recruit other companions?

What sort of general actions raise or lower their approval?

Are there any instances where your Tav can permanently leave the party, depending on player character actions?

Do they have any secrets that can be revealed?  What are the prerequisites for this secret coming to light?

Do they have their own personal quest that spans the course of the game?  Can it take different branching paths depending on the choices the Player Character makes?

What do they say when the Player Character asks them to stay in camp?  How about when the Player Character asks them to come adventuring again?

Does your Tav have any escalating conflicts with one of the other companions, like Lae’zel and Shadowheart’s knife-fight?

Are there any unique NPCs associated with your Tav that can show up during the course of the game?

Are there any moments in the game that trigger unique dialogue for your character? (Like Gale’s anecdote about the barfight after you save the goblin prisoner) 

Story Specific

How does your Tav advise the player character when it comes to the Dream Visitor?

How do they advise the player character on Raphael?

How do they react to Astarion biting the Player Character?

How do they react to the Player Character letting Abdirak whip them?

How do they react to the Player Character taking their first tadpole power?

Will they stay with the Player Character regardless of siding with the goblins or the tieflings, or is it possible for them to leave the party permanently?

What can they be found doing at the tiefling/goblin party?

Do they have comments on who the Player Character chooses to spend the night with? 

Do they have unique dialogue if the Player Character lets them die when they steal the Blood of Lathander?

How do they react if the PC licks the dead spider in the Gauntlet of Shar?

What do they say if the PC tries to force them to go up on stage with Dribbles the Clown?

Is it possible for your Tav to be kidnapped and replaced by Orin?  How is Orin's deception revealed?  How do they react to the PC rescuing them in the Temple of Bhaal?

How do they react to the PC either allowing Astarion to ascend or convincing him to spare the 7000 spawn?

How does Tav react to the PC becoming a mind flayer?  Can they offer to become one themselves?  Does their reaction change if they’re romanced? 

How do they react when the Dark Urge first reveals their amnesia and murderous thoughts to them?

How do they react to the Dark Urge killing Alfira?

If romanced, how do they react to the Dark Urge trying to kill them in Act 2?

Romance

Is your Tav a romanceable character?  Are there any specific requirements to romancing them?

Does your Tav need to be flirted with to start the romance, or will they approach the PC themselves if approval is high enough?

Are they a polyamorous or a monogamous option?

Do they have a special romance scene at the tiefling/goblin party?

Does the romance have different branching paths, or just one route to take?

How do they react to the player character breaking up with them, or choosing another character over them?

What questions can Zethino ask the PC about Tav in the Love Test? 

If they’re poly, do they have a reaction to the PC engaging in a relationship with Halsin?

How do they react if the PC has sex with Mizora? The Emperor?  Haarlep?

Will they join in with the PC and the Drow Twins, or no?

What are Tav’s plans for the future?  Do they propose to the PC, or is marriage not something they’re interested in?

Free space! Share anything from your companion!Tav au!

[plutonianeris]

how you leave them addicted …

choose based on your inner guidance and gut feeling.

(pile one) 🤎

“Find out how it feels to let go of everything. Be free. When you're here with me”

They are addicted to your strength, passion, desire for adventure, and love of life. I get a feeling they perceive you as unattainable, but not in the sense that you're out of their league. They could feel like they can't keep up… because you're always talking about your passions and interests, and you have such a genuine and magnificent desire to learn. It makes you feel apprehensive about settling down or staying in one location. You want to know what the world is actually like and discover numerous truths about yourself… it's a never-ending journey on your part. You enjoy growing. Pile one, your INTELLIGENCE IS SEXY AS FUCK. You're fucking philosophical, clever, helpful, and chaotic all at the same time.

And you become a wildfire to them. They're captivated by your spark, your attractiveness, and the way your eyes light up when you tell them about something new you've discovered. This pile gives me a bittersweet ache in my chest. There is a sense of hurt in the heart of all that strength and curiosity and strength and desire to grow. That as much as you want to appreciate life, you have also been hurt… there is a sense of suspicion in others. Fear of getting too close. But this simply makes them want you more. That simply increases their desire for you. You're badass… I get it. You're not afraid to stand on your own if you have to… if anything you're proud of that.  

You may have been quite independent at an early age, and you may have had parents or family who were more concerned with your attitude, mood, or what you could do for them rather than checking up on you or giving you the benefit of the doubt. How ironic… that you're always willing to put yourself out there when it comes to your opinions about the universe, death, life, science, religion, or even school subjects… that you're always prepared to listen and even debate. But when it comes to love and romance, there's just this fucking fear and resistance to FULLY explore... that it makes you want to bolt. pile one… you leave them enchanted. You can be very good at flirting, and you could get compliments on your smile, laugh, and personality.  

But it doesn't always go beyond flirting, and they're left wondering what will be good enough for someone like you. You're a heartbreaker, Pile One… I know it's not in the same manner as getting into a long-term, intimate relationship, but it's as if you offer them a taste of something breathtaking and thrilling, and then you're gone. But you're a flame, and they stare in awe, fingers outstretched, not even caring that the skin on their palm will burn and blister as they yank their hand back, their gaze never leaving you.

It reminds me of a little kid just staring at something fascinating with their mouth hanging open, pointing. You have the power of bringing out this expansive and innocent curiosity in them. They don't seem to mind getting hurt as long as they can be near you. And you can be irresponsible with your actions at times too, not caring whether anyone gets hurt either, including yourself. Even in that pain, you find such meaningful lessons.

(pile two) 🤎

“you wont find me twice and this I promise”

They’re addicted to your resilience, your unapologetic pursuit of truth, and the unwavering confidence you carry like armor. You’re not someone they can easily forget. It’s as though you’re an endless puzzle, always shifting, always evolving. And that mystique? It pulls them in deeper every time. There’s this feeling that they’re chasing something they can never quite catch. its a wild force they admire but can’t fully comprehend. You are a storm of energy, constantly moving, constantly seeking new experiences. You’re driven by an insatiable curiosity to explore the depths of your potential, your limits, and the world around you. That hunger for growth makes you seem untethered, impossible to pin down, and that is both exhilarating and intimidating to them.

You’re the kind of person who thrives on change, who finds stagnation suffocating. Settling isn’t just unappealing it’s out of the question. They see that fire in you, the one that refuses to be dimmed, and they’re in awe of it. You live boldly, your intelligence not just something of the mind but of the heart its a deep, soulful kind of wisdom that radiates from within. And when you speak, you hold them spellbound. It’s your passion for knowledge, your fearless way of questioning everything, that makes them addicted to the essence of you.

But here’s the twist. For all your strength, there’s a vulnerability they can sense but can’t quite touch. Beneath that powerful exterior, there’s a wariness its a suspicion of people, of letting them too close. It’s not that you don’t want connection, but you’ve been burned before. You’ve learned to shield yourself with independence, wearing it like a badge of honor. You’ve stood on your own two feet for so long that the idea of leaning on someone else feels foreign, maybe even dangerous. And yet, that guarded heart of yours? It only makes them want you more. It’s the very thing that keeps them captivated, wondering what it would take to break down those walls, to get closer to the real you.

You might have had to grow up faster than others, taking on responsibilities or emotional burdens that weren’t yours to carry. Maybe those around you cared more about your achievements, your capabilities, than they ever did about your well-being. So, you learned to rely on yourself. How strange it must seem to others that someone so confident in their beliefs, so open with their thoughts on life, death, and the universe, can still shy away when it comes to matters of the heart. Love and romance? They scare you in a way nothing else does. You fear losing control, and that fear sometimes makes you want to run before things even get too deep.

And it’s that duality..the brave face you show the world versus the hesitation you feel inside is what leaves them spellbound. You’re magnetic, a natural flirt without even trying, and they can’t get enough of your smile, your laughter, your energy. But just when they think they’re getting closer, you pull back. It’s not that you’re cruel, but you’ve mastered the art of showing just enough to leave them wanting more. You offer a glimpse of something electric, something life-changing, and then, like the wind, you’re gone. They’re left chasing that spark, knowing full well they might never catch it, but unable to resist.

You’re the fire they can’t touch without getting burned, and they don’t even care about the pain. You make them feel alive, make them rediscover that sense of awe and wonder they thought they had lost. Even if it means they’ll hurt in the end, it’s worth it to be near you, to experience that intensity. Sometimes, without realizing it, you can be reckless with other people’s hearts...reckless with your own too. But even in the aftermath of heartache, you find meaning in the lessons learned. You’ve always been one to take the pain and turn it into fuel, into wisdom, into something you can use to keep moving forward.

And maybe that’s what makes you truly unforgettable. You don’t just exist...you burn brightly, unapologetically, and they’re left staring in wonder, unable to look away, even as their hand reaches out, knowing they’ll feel the heat. And still, they’re drawn to you, willing to take the risk, because something about your wild, untamed energy promises that even in the hurt, there’s beauty, there’s growth, there’s life.

[mansionreborn]

The Instruction Page (Page 0) for The Mansion

The Deviantart page has been deactivated for years, sadly