yujing0930

[shakespeareallanpoe]

Celebrity Crush AU

idk why but the idea that in an alternate universe Raven somehow was never told Batman or Robin's secret identity and as a teen developed a not-so-slight crush on the very private, animal-loving billionaire Damian Wayne is almost as enticing as Robin KNOWING she has a lock screen of him and follows his socials and every so often cryptically dropping hints about his ideal gf which ofc is just him describing Raven.

Raven: *comes to training with a slight lovesick smile on her face*

Everyone else: WTF 😶

Robin, internally: Ah, I see she's seen my post about preferring bookworms for their inquisitive minds. Excellent. In two weeks I shall proceed to phase 2.

Alternatively,

Robin, painstakingly spending an hour crafting the perfect post for Raven to stumble on later: This is exactly how you flirt. Father simply has no idea what he is doing when it comes to women. Thank goodness I didn't get this from him.

[gh0stchoir]

Kirishima: Just tell him, 'you have beautiful eyes'!

Katsuki: That's good! Great idea!

Katsuki, with confidence: I have beautiful eyes.

Tao: 🧍‍♂️

[krysmcscience]

Don't mind me, just slacking on a big Billford comic by making other far more ridiculous Billford comics and also some AU art (please excuse my slapdash human!Bill thank you please, also before anyone asks the art style is messy and all over the place because idgaf LOL)

This started out as an excuse to design a Bill Cipher-inspired "wedding" dress, but then spiraled wildly out of control. Various rambles and a bunch more human!Bill arts under the cut, including another silly little comic at the end! (Feel free to skip the rambles, I won't be offended. I know I'm bad at shutting up. XD)

I may or may not write some comedy stuff for this AU, which I'm calling 'For Better Or Worse (But Mostly Worse)'. While Ford DOES remember getting sloshed enough for one thing to lead to making out with another after karaoke, neither he nor Bill remember this wedding, At All. The Love God did nothing to dissuade them from going hog wild on their marriage spending, either, so it got...uh. Exorbitantly Expensive. As in, the grand total could probably buy the entire fucking MOON sort of expensive. (It's fine, don't worry, Bill's good enough at crime to be able to afford it.) Also, because the logic of this AU is mostly dictated by Rule of Funny, the Love God's powers are close to unlimited when it comes to matters of romance, but ONLY when it comes to matters of romance. (Like weddings!)

Want an empty human vessel to smash the soul of a triangle into for date nights or when it's convenient, or perhaps even when it's NOT convenient? Easy peasy! Want the marriage to be recognized in every corner of the multiverse from now until the end of time, thus making any potential future divorce nigh-on impossible? Can do! Want to buy an entire beach for the ceremony and honeymoon and in general, and totally not at all because it would be Super Hilarious to prevent any specific movies from being made on that very same beach in the future? Fine, whatever, it's not his finances he's ruining!

Does the Love God also provide special rings that just so happen to turn incorporeal as long as the "happy couple" doesn't remember that they barged into his dreams to bully him into presiding over their marriage? ...No comment!

He spends the next thirty years trying and failing to get in touch with either of them for payment. This is why you should always demand half the money up front, my guy!

Also it's absolutely a traditional Jewish wedding, because I like the idea of Bill demanding all the keepsakes from the marriage that he paid for, and being completely confused when one of the things he's handed is a fancy container full of broken glass. He gets it later, but in the moment, he thinks the Love God is just fucking with him some more.

Ramble over! Here's the full dress that caused the comic to happen, along with what Ford wound up wearing at the wedding (and begrudgingly agreeing to put on again later for Reasons), aaaaand also a close-up of Bill's ring:

I may have forgotten to draw Bill's hair floofier when drawing the back of the dress, lmao

Since double ring ceremonies have been leaking over into Jewish wedding customs for a while now, Ford also has a ring, but his is the much more traditional plain gold band. There's definitely a message engraved on the inside - embarrassing, cringe, or incriminating somehow - but I haven't decided what it is yet, so use your imagination for now. XD Bill, on the other hand, saw the phrase 'traditional plain gold band' and said "No Thank You" before proceeding to embellish his ring to his liking. And because he's a secret sap who adores Ford's extra fingers, the triangle points add up to twelve, as do the engraved stars. Yes, they're stars, not dots, I just got lazy. There's also six lashes on the eye gem, and probably an eye engraving on the inside with another six lashes. (Bill's got it BAD, okay? We all know this.)

Here are the initial scribbles of Bill's custom vessel in more casual attire, please ignore the wonky anatomy and the fact that I flat out refuse to ever draw him with a proper top hat:

He does actually need a cane in this vessel; since Bill tends to possess men and especially Ford more often than not, he's used to having a higher center of gravity when in a human body, so his ability to balance is pretty garbage. (He may or may not topple over with concerning regularity.) As for his empty eye socket, his bangs don't do much to hide it since he's so high-energy (dude is constantly on the move), and he also refuses to wear a patch over it, because 1.) why bother, and 2.) it's more fun to freak people out.

To better align with Ford's attraction towards the strange, the vessel was designed with super minor shapeshifting ability - Bill can look like a perfectly normal human, but he can also make the teeth and fingers sharper whenever he likes (which is mostly just when he's angry or being more of a menace than usual), as well as slit down the pupils or outright ditch the irises altogether. He can also have whatever he wants in the downstairs department, just because I'm an indecisive bitch on that front, lmao. Maybe he can have boobs if he wants them, too, but I ain't drawin' tits on no triangle, nuh-uh, no sir. His powers are otherwise limited down to what humans can do, because for some reason, the Love God doesn't trust Bill to not snap into Immediate Apocalypse Mode if he's given a physical form that's actually all his and no one else's.

Due to the body being all his and no one else's, it's also not really a standard possession so much as it is just...Bill being temporarily human. He's a lot more aware of and in tune with his human body's senses than he ever was with his "puppets", which makes things like pain a lot more intense. (He is mostly fine with this, because he's a fukken masochist.)

A bit more fashion stuff, including beach and party attire~

The beach outfit was mostly me trying and failing to nail down his body shape, which is still not bottom-heavy enough. I then decided to slap a bikini on it, before making it supremely unsexy with a pair of fugly shorts, because Bill's fashion choices are not allowed to be conventionally attractive. Meanwhile, the party outfit was mostly me looking at the casual attire I designed, asking 'how would Bill make this Worse', and then drawing the result. The mismatched thigh-highs are killing me inside! :D

No, his vessel can't actually summon fire, I just drew it for funzies before I decided on said vessel's limitations. Yes, the gold brick tattoos are absolutely a reference to the fic 'Knowing Me, Knowing You' - I simply could not resist.

I also HAD to draw Bill in one of his canonical(?) shirts, just made tank-top'd:

He is absolutely about to over-correct and fall backwards after this. USE YOUR CANE, GOOFBALL!!! (I meant to draw Bill closer to this degree of bottom-heavy in the other images, but. Alas. I am bad at anatomy, LOL)

And, last but not least before More Comic Time, I attempted to draw him closer to Gravity Falls style:

Jury's out on whether or not I succeeded, but - hey. I tried. Now have some Handyman Bill AU, but with my goofy human design, instead:

Hey, it's a 'mystery snack', and the guy wanted A BITE to eat - the joke was right there, guys!!! (Based on this post, because it just screamed BILL CIPHER to me.)

whoops i forgor bills ring and cracks ahaha too late now

I WILL SHUT UP AND STOP RAMBLING NOW K THX BYYYYYE

[lollytea]

I need to watch Sharpay's Fabulous Adventure to reach my final conclusion on if she's even attracted to men

[tennessoui]

Number 19 for the prompt thing. The parents meeting because of their kids. I’m kinda imagining Korkie being like a tutor/school reading buddy for the twins or something but you can just ignore that if it doesn’t match your thoughts on it.

hello!! i thought back as much as i could, and i don't think i actually did this prompt the first time around a couple of years ago, so there's nothing to link to save for the prompt list!

i stuck with korkie as obi-wan's kid and the twins as anakin's, but made the kids the same age and then took...a few more liberties with the prompt haha

(19. parents meeting while taking their kids to class) (sort of)

(2.8k)

“Leia, baby, why do you always decide to get into fights at school when it’s my week with you?” Anakin asks the steering wheel as he buckles himself in and turns over the engine. “They’re going to start thinking I’m raising a truant. Then they’re going to start asking about your home life, then they’re going to bring in experts to ask me more questions, then Padmé’s parents are going to throw their considerable legal weight around and get my partial custody revoked and then where will we be? Is that what you want? To only see me on your birthday and Christmas?”

Anakin pauses and reconsiders. Knowing his daughter, she may very well only want to see him for birthdays and Christmases. It would mean double the presents.

Thankfully the silence of the car doesn’t offer much in the way of constructive critique.

At a red light, he puts his head down on the steering wheel for a long enough moment that the car behind him honks when the light changes to green.

“They’re going to stop letting me leave work to come get you,” Anakin mutters a few minutes later as he turns the car into the school’s parking lot. “I have a partner meeting in thirty minutes that I really can’t miss, baby. Can’t you at least schedule your schoolyard fights around my calendar?”

It’s all rather pointless, but it feels good to grumble and bitch in the time it takes him to leave his office and arrive at the school, before he has to put on his adult face and demeanor to sit through another round of We’re Worried Your Five Year Old Is Too Violent As She Seems To View The Monkey Bars As Sacrificial Zones.

“Maybe she’d like hockey,” he says under his breath as he grabs his jacket from the other seat and swings it over his suit. It’s fucking freezing already, not even December. It’s indecent, that’s what it is. Surely a place as cold as this has a peewee hockey team in need of another angry little girl.

“Thank you,” he says when a woman holds the door open for him on her way out the building.

He’s stil sort of freaked out that the elementary school his children are going to is fancy enough to have an entrance hallway with a chandelier hanging from the ceilingk, but it’s not him that’s paying for their private school education that doesn’t offer discounts for all the collective hours they’ll spend napping on the floors.

To the immediate left of the door is the receptionist’s desk—behind her, the nurse’s room. He’s quite familiar with both. Mrs. Whitsdale even waves when she sees him, which means, unfortunately, she’s just made the shortlist of people Anakin needs to make Christmas cookies for. She joins the ranks of everyone else that’s been made to deal with his son and daughter in the tumultuous year after the divorce.

“Hi, ma’am,” he says dutifully, sticking his head into the receptionist area. “Do I need to sign in or can I just go up?”

She waves him away. “I’ve already got you, sweetheart. You’re late anyway, they’re waiting for you upstairs.”

“You’re a miracle amongst men,” he calls out as he turns instead to the right of the door and up the old staircase that leads to the principal’s office. This is also a route he is incredibly familiar with.

How can he be late? He practically flew here on light feet and broken speed limits. It’s enough to take his mood from bad to worse, which isn’t optimal for a meeting with the principal of the school when it’s his kid who caused the fight. Anakin’s role is to nonconfrontational, contrite to the point of groveling—because he knows his daughter won’t. 

That’s already hard enough when he’s feeling normal. It’s practically impossible when he’s feeling foul.

But Padmé did always say Leia got her stubbornness and temper from Anakin.

Anakin’s always said Leia never really had a chance considering who her parents are. 

After all, someone threw a hairdryer at the hotel mirror before they got divorced and it wasn’t Anakin. But he’s not stupid enough to even think that when Padmé’s around.

The big oak door at the end of the hallway on the second floor is elaborate, looks heavy, and stays closed. He knows that this is the headmaster’s office, but he’s never seen the guy around. He doesn’t even know what the guy does. What’s a headmaster of an elementary school doing every day? 

It’s an elementary school.

But, again. Anakin’s not paying for all this pomp and circumstance.

He takes another right instead, down the corridor in the opposite direction to the principal’s office. The door’s left ajar, and Anakin knocks politely before entering at the call to.

A couple of things bring him up short as soon as he steps into the room. For one thing, it’s not Principal Cinoff behind the desk, but a stranger who has the remnants of a three-piece suit on, jacket hanging neatly on a coat rack in the corner of the room. His vest is a deep red that should do nothing but drain his complexion—all pasty white skin, freckled and sun-starved, paired with his reddish hair and beard. It doesn’t, which is unfair to the point of duplicity. Or–something.

The way he’s sitting at the desk, hands spread wide on the wood and shoulders back, leaves no doubt in Anakin’s mind that the stranger is in a position of power here at the school. And probably in, like. Life. He looks like the kind of guy who gets his groceries on discount even without providing a loyalty card. He also looks like the kind of guy the system bends to accommodate. As a lawyer, Anakin is offended and deeply disturbed. That’s why his stomach does two or three flips in quick succession when they make eye contact.

The stranger’s eyes are cool and focused as they run over Anakin, and he gives him a perfunctory incline of his head. At least his eyes are warmer when they fall to the kids in front of him. 

And that’s the other thing that shocks him.

The amount of children in front of the desk. One pouting ginger kid off to the side, arms crossed and staring down at his light-up sneakers.

And then two very familiar heads of hair on the other side. 

“Luke?” He asks before he can stop himself, surprise dripping from his tone. “What are you doing here?”

At this rate, he’s going to give his daughter a complex, he knows it.

But Luke has never been in trouble before. Sure, they’re only five, and it’s only been three months of school, but in that time, Anakin’s been called down here six times to deal with Leia-related emergencies. He’s always imagined that meanwhile, Luke was in his classroom, chewing on crayons or diligently helping the teacher pass out homework assignments.

The stand-in principal coughs slightly and rises. “Ah, Mr. Skywalker-Amidala. Thank you for being able to join us today.”

Anakin scowls automatically before schooling his face into something far more diplomatic and pleasant when his children whirl around in their seats to look at him. The last thing he needs is for his children to think they can sneer at authority figures, given that he’s one of their main authority figures. 

Luke leaves his chair to hug onto his leg, pressing his small face into the fabric of his pants, presumably seeking comfort and also to wipe his face dry of tears and snot.

Anakin puts a hand on his head and strokes through his hair, darting a curious glance at Leia, who has turned around to glare forward again, arms crossed over her chest.

“It’s just Skywalker, actually,” he tells the stranger. “Amidala is their mother.”

The man’s eyebrow goes up and he picks up a pen to make a note on the papers before him. An actual note. Regarding Anakin’s divorce. “Ah, apologies then,” he says. “Our contact list notes you as the father, Skywalker-Amidala, and their mother as Amidala-Organa.”

Anakin squints, trying to decide if the stranger is just trying to correct a clerical error in the school’s records or fishing for gossip. He gives him the benefit of the doubt. “Amidala is their mother, recently remarried to Organa. Organas. And she’s always been better at remembering to file paperwork than I am.”

The stranger keeps his face admirably placid. “Ah,” he says. “Well, Mr. Skywalker. Should we begin?”

“Uh,” he says. “What about the other parent?”

The stranger blinks at him, both eyebrows raised. “I’m a widower.”

“Uh,” he says. “I meant…” he gestures at the other child, the surly looking ginger kid.

“I’m afraid it will just be us, Mr. Skywalker,” the stranger says. “Please, sit.”

Anakin sits, and Luke is quick to scramble up into his lap with a very plaintative, “I didn’t really mean to.”

“So at recess today, the children were playing on the swings,” the stranger who must be the principal for the day says. “And—”

“Sorry,” Anakin interrupts. “Can I get your name please? I was expecting Principal Cinoff.”

The man pauses. “Sheri has been put on sudden maternity-leave a few months early,” he says. “For the next couple of weeks, I’ll be dual-hatting as both principal and headmaster while we continue to search for a temporary replacement.” He raises an eyebrow at Anakin. Anakin really doesn’t appreciate that. “This was in an email the school sent out to all the parents recently.”

“Yes, well,” Anakin says. “I get a lot of emails.”

The man looks unimpressed. “I encourage you to prioritize the communications from your children’s learning institute.”

Anakin bristles. What a dick. Who the fuck says learning institute?

“I’m sorry, what’s your name?” he asks in his best unimpressed voice.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” the man’s unimpressed voice is ten times more chilling than Anakin’s, which is also not fair. “Please, call me Dr. Kenobi.” Anakin scowls. “I appreciate the fact that you feel as though you can cover the extremely busy roles of both headmaster and principal of an elementary school, but I would really rather wait until the other parent gets here so we can most productively discuss the altercation, Mr. Kenobi.”

“Please, Mr. Skywalker,” Kenobi says. “Leave the litigation to the court rooms, we—”

“It’s Esquire, actually.”

Kenobi’s face grows very pinched around the mouth and eyebrows. Anakin feels a vicious thrill course through him even as his stomach flips again.

“I suppose I should have made it clearer at the beginning of this session,” Kenobi says, tone dripping in you idiot. “This is my son, Korkie.”

Anakin’s mouth falls open. His immediate thought is, of course, Korkie Kenobi? And he thought Luke and Leia were too cutesy for twin names.

“Korkie is a family name,” Kenobi adds rather dryly. “My late wife’s grandfather’s.”

Anakin doubts that’s even true. He bets it’s not actually, that Kenobi just plays the dead wife card to get out of judgemental questions about his naming abilities.

But then another, worse thought occurs to Anakin. “Wait a second, you can’t be the parent and the principal!”

“I assure you, I am impartial.”

“Like hel—heck you are!” Anakin straightens in his seat and Luke lets out a grumble, clinging tightly to his front. “I demand a different authority.” “No,” Kenobi says firmly, as if the matter is at rest. This, of course, is absolutely infuriating.

“It’s unfair bias and I will not see either of my children punished in a tyrannical and self-serving institution—”

Kenobi pinches at the bridge of his nose. “Mr. Skywalker, unless you would like to have me call Mrs. Cinoff away from her pre-mature baby, I am the best option this school has. Please. Settle down.”

“Dad,” Leia says, “I don’t want to miss reading time.”

Anakin breathes out in disgust. Shitty, overpriced private school. This sort of thing would never happen at a publicly funded school.

“The fact of the matter is that Luke pushed Korkie off the swings,” Kenobi says with a stern look at both Luke and Anakin. He holds up his hand when Anakin opens his mouth. “An incident that many were witness to. And before you make an accusation, there were many witnesses who were not on the school’s payroll, Mr. Skywalker.”

Anakin closes his mouth sullenly.

“Korkie could have been very hurt, Luke,” Kenobi says, clasping his hands in front of him and looking down at Anakin’s son. “He was swinging pretty fast when you pushed him, and he could have broken his ankle in the fall.”

Luke’s bottom lip trembles. “I didn’t want to hurt him,” he mumbles, turning his face back into Anakin’s sleeve. “He was being mean. I just wanted him to stop.” “I wasn’t!” Korkie cries, sitting straight in his chair for the first time since Anakin’s arrived. “I wasn’t being mean, dad!” “You said Leia’s hair looks like cinnamon buns on her head!” Luke shouts back, pushing away from Anakin’s arms to glare at the other boy. 

Anakin winces. When it’s Padmé’s turn with the kids, Leia always turns up to school with elaborately braided hair, twisted on top of her head in elegant formations that look effortlessly pretty. He knows that’s not Padmé’s work, but he also can’t figure out if Breha or Bail is responsible. It’s not something he wants to ask.

The fanciest Anakin can do, after all, is two buns on either side of Leia’s head. 

That do, truth be told, look rather like cinnamon rolls.

“Ah,” Kenobi says. “I believe I understand the miscommunication here. Korkie, would you like to tell the Skywalkers what you meant when you told Luke that Leia’s hair looked like cinnamon buns?”

If possible, the kid turns even more red, blushing furiously. “I really like cinnamon buns,” he mutters, crossing his arms tighter. “They’re my favorite.”

“He’s started asking for them for breakfast several times a week,” Kenobi tells Anakin with a smile lingering around his lips. “I’ve been wondering why.”

Anakin isn’t sure he likes the explanation. Sure, Korkie can have whatever sort of crush on his daughter that he wants to have, but likening her hair to cinnamon buns isn’t very kind, and he’s pretty sure that if someone else was the judge in this trial, they wouldn’t be so quick to justify the other boy’s words.

Luke seems to agree with him. “Your hair looks like carrots,” he snaps, crossing his arms.

Because Anakin is an intelligent adult who understands that making enemies with the headmaster’s son isn’t the best move, he adds on the Skywalker family’s behalf, “Luke loves carrots.”

Luke, in fact, hates carrots. 

“There is still the matter of Luke pushing Korkie off the swing,” Kenobi says, eyebrows raised like he understands exactly what’s going unsaid here. “We do not encourage physical violence of any sort here, and it was dangerous. Korkie could have been hurt much more badly than a scraped knee.”

The words are very serious and grave, and Luke wilts under the headmaster-principal-father’s disappointed stare. Anakin bristles.

“Well, it’s his first infraction,” he says. “And he was sticking up for his sister. I think that’s fair. He won’t do it again.”

“Hm,” Kenobi says, pushing papers aside and pulling out a glossy leaflet. “Now, I cannot force you to consider this, but I noticed that neither Luke nor Leia are currently enrolled in any of our extracurriculars.”

“They’re five.”

“We have many on offer at Jedi Prepatory School,” Kenobi continues as if Anakin hasn’t said anything. “And I wanted to highlight our peewee hockey league. I think both Leia and Luke would enjoy the rigorous schedule, and they may…benefit from the…structure it offers. And team activity.”

Anakin glowers. He can read between the lines. Kenobi’s just called his parenting style structureless and lazy. It makes him want to grab the pamphlet and rip it to shreds in front of him. “I would have to talk about it with their mother,” he says stiffly instead.

“Of course,” Kenobi says cheerfully. “When you do, please give Bail and Breha my well-wishes as well. It’s been far too long since I’ve had the time to see them, given how exhastingly busy it is to be the headmaster and principal of an elementary school.”

“Right,” Anakin grits out. “Yeah. I’ll let my ex-wife’s new partners know.”

Kenobi’s smile is all teeth. “I look forward to seeing you in the rink, Mr. Skywalker Esquire. My son plays on the team.”

Anakin wonders if there’s another peewee hockey team he can have his kids join. Just so they can beat Jedi Prepatory school and then laugh in Korkie and Dr. Kenobi’s faces.

Yeah. That sounds really nice.

He’ll look when he gets back to work.

This takes priority.

[crivalsduo]

i really appreciate the one thing we universally agree on is that c!dream would be an absolute wreck trying to flirt with c!techno.

[typhects]

based on some squid diagram image i found

[phellycheesesteak]

“You…certainly have a strange sense of humor.”

Transfem!akechi being flustered is very nice actually

[shipping-all-ships]

I was going to make Azula in my Fire Lord Lu Ten AU able to talk to women but seeing how she interacted with whatshisname, I think it's funnier if Lu Ten, the only one of the family not interested in women, is the only one who can actually talk to them.

[moeblob]

I'm suffering Fates Brain Rot so I drew OCs? Logical!

Nytis (blondie) is a demon cleric who hates feeling any form of pain but lives to cause others pain (he does indeed see the irony of becoming a cleric). In order to help protect himself he forms a pact with Elnae (red gal) and she basically fights in his place if there is a threat of injury. She also does little errands like info-getting and sneaking around for him.

The thing is, while he can hurt others no problem and it's satisfying, he was granted the ability to heal others after he swore allegiance to a deity he holds no respect nor regard for. He honestly doesn't care about whatever gods exist. HOWEVER. As a demon, simply using holy magic actually hurts him so he's a pretty stingy healer and has a sword "just in case" he has to fight.

That said, he does actually have one thing he refuses to let go unpunished: a kid being injured/cursed. He might be a messed up demon but he draws the lines at letting kids suffer. When El asks about it and is like "haha what, did you have a bad childhood too, buddy?" he's like "???? How else would I end up like this? As a cleric? Hurting myself to heal? What the hell is wrong with you YES I had a bad childhood."

[shadowsageingempress]

Lucrecia: Do you like sleeping?

Vincent: I do.

Lucrecia: Wow, me too! We should try it together sometime.

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

i'd smile too she walks Right In

[snowflake-of-destruction]

trick or treat >w<

Reki had been thinking. Not that he wasn’t always thinking. He was. He thought about school and work. Sometimes at least. More often, he thought about board designs and how he could improve his technique, and skating videos he'd seen lately, and if the car Oka had sold him for much below value the day after he turned eighteen was some kind of trick and was going to quit on him in a week, and if it had enough gas and if it might be a Transformer, and if it was a Transformer would it be an Autobot or a Decepticon. He thought about if Miya wanted to meet up in Final Fantasy XIV with him later, and if he had enough time between thinking about all of these things to stop thinking for a little while and maybe meet up somewhere with Langa. Then he'd start thinking about Langa himself and how their friendship had changed, which came with a whole lot of other things he wasn’t ready to deal with thinking about. 

So it was normal that he was thinking, and that his thoughts would be spiraling into overdrive. He'd calculated it one time and deduced through extremely scientific methods that he would not be able to duplicate or describe later that he thought four times faster than the average person, and that was the real reason he sometimes seemed to be responding to something different than what was being said in conversation. He'd already thought through what the other person was going to say in response to what he was going to say, and what he was going to say next before he finished a sentence, and even when he was surprised and had to come up with a new response, then, typically, he was still moving on so quickly that he lapped the conversation and had already moved on and lost track of where reality met the projected conversation he could have had three different versions of while the person he was talking to was trying to decipher the first or second thing he'd said.

Reki and Langa got along so well because Langa could keep up and join in wherever Reki's mind currently was, adding on an economic few words and not bothering with all the filler conversation that could just as easily be had through a quick glance. Of course, this made the times where they could not understand each other and weren't on the same page worse, but they tended to work through it. Also, rarely, though still more than with anyone else, sometimes Reki could look into Langa’s eyes and his rapid thoughts would slow like time itself had stopped, and he’d achieve a sort of harmony with the rest of the world, grounded in place–which could sound romantic unless you phrased it as “you’re my human ADHD meds,” as Reki unfortunately had. 

Mr. Sakurayashiki also worked on much the same level at four times normal person speed, but Reki tended to slow down and use more words with him all the same, just out of sheer intimidation. The more he grew to know the man behind Cherry Blossom, Reki felt his fear of the formidable AI programmer and skating legend grow rather than shrink. It was a vastly different type of discomfort than he felt around Adam, but no less difficult to work through. Even though he and Lord Cherry had mixed and mingled and spent almost as much one-on-one time together as Adam and Cherry Blossom themselves had since the events surrounding the funeral beef and Adam’s sudden new lease on life (though, perhaps, not the same type of one-on-one time together, not that Reki was in the habit of assumptions or that he wanted to touch whatever was happening between any combination of Adam, Snake, Lord Cherry, or Joe with a ten meter pole), Reki found himself much more fidget-y and bordering on panicky than he would like when faced with the man that had once been and still kind was one of his heroes, and yet for some reason genuinely liked spending time with him, or seemed to at least. It was pretty difficult to read the calligrapher sometimes, particularly when he fell back on obscuring his face with a mask or well placed fan.

Thinking though. 

Reki had been doing a different type of intense thinking lately, about his future and what he really wanted out of it. It was about time, according to his parents. He hadn't come up with good enough answers yet.

Skating infinitely with Langa didn't seem like it should be both the beginning and end of his plans anymore, but no other vision of the future gave him quite as much peace. So that detail was set. There had to be more though, and he felt like every day that passed he was running out of time to get it right. And Langa had to be doing his own thinking, and the chance that they weren't thinking the same thing increased the longer Reki took to figure out what he was thinking, increasing the danger of losing the one goal he was sure of.

Langa had mentioned that he might want to go to university back in Canada. Reki knew he was one of two reasons why Langa wouldn't, along with a reluctance to leave his mother on her own, not that Langa spelled it out, and that added a lot more pressure on Reki's shoulders that Langa just didn't seem to feel.

Reki was pretty sure he wasn't going to figure out what he wanted to do and where he wanted to go until it was too late to get into any university, and then he was going to be dumped because Langa was already too good for him and so doubly at risk of realizing he shouldn't just wait around forever for a guy he wasn't even actually dating. 

After that happened, all Reki would have is a car that was almost definitely a Decepticon.

On the other hand, the future often defied prediction, and trying to plan it out was sometimes a waste of brain power. 

Four times the normal person’s brain power if you were a quick thinker.

After all, if someone had asked Reki last year how he expected to spend the day leading up to Halloween night, he may have guessed “putting the final touches on a sick costume” but he wouldn’t have guessed that he’d be doing so in a guest bedroom of Shindo Manor, that he’d be comfortable getting ready for S at Shindo Manor because it was a usual stop when there were more complicated preparations to be made–such as there were on theme nights like Pirate Sea Shanty Sing-along–because he was kind of friends now with Diet member Ainosuke Shindo who was also Adam, or that he’d be the one encouraging Langa to agree to a beef with Adam. 

“Come on, all the werewolves are racing to decide who is the alpha. The vampires should decide on a coven leader the same way.” Reki broke his plastic fangs out of their packaging and turned them over a few times in his hand, considering. Langa had gotten him the same fangs he was using for his own costume, and Reki wasn’t sure if they would add to his look or detract from it. 

Langa pulled his mouth all to one side, somewhere between a grimace and a funny face in the mirror, as he jostled Reki aside for a better view, but showed no other sign of having heard, continuing to brush his hair back and grimacing further when it flopped right back into his eyes, calling into question whether he’d always been reacting to his own hair struggles. “Yes.”

“Yes, you agree to the race?”

“Yes to the fangs. They’ll be cute. That’s why I bought them for you. Do you think Cherry will agree to the race?” Langa deflated a bit by the end of the last sentence, seemingly worn out by so many words needing to be said all together.

Lord Cherry Blossom was also supposed to be dressing as a vampire, with Joe as a werewolf. He’d announced as much, speaking on both of their behalfs, though he’d phrased it as the “musclehead becoming the animal I’ve always known he was.” Adam had chimed in then, asserting that they were both familiar with what a beast “Dear Joey '' could be in a tone far less insulting and disdainful than Cherry had tried for, but one that had made Reki immediately want to block the entire conversation from his mind.

“I think Cherry would rather race than to call Adam his sire all night or agree to be his spawn or his thrall. And you should feel the same way.” Reki tried to avoid telling Langa how he should feel or what decisions he needed to make, but sometimes the wording just slipped out.

There was a knock on the door and a cheerful call of, “Am I interrupting? I hope so,” in Adam’s syrupy tones before the bedroom door was thrown open. 

“You’re already dressed, my sweet little bloody snowball, how disappointing,” Adam continued to simper as he swept into the room, cape flourishing behind him. He bit into his bottom lip, not hard enough to break skin, but enough to leave impressions with his own fake fangs. “Gearshift, please tell me you’re putting on a shirt. Maybe a thick flannel to go under the vest? You’re positively, absolutely, sinfully indecent out of your hoodies–and, this one time only, I do not mean that as a compliment.”

“I like his pink boxers,” Langa weighed in tranquilly, moved on to working on his eyeliner. 

Reki blushed, but didn’t squeak or groan that the boxers weren’t actually part of the costume like he might have once. 

Adam hummed, “Of course you do.” 

“Why are you here?” Reki glowered at their host on principle, but there was far less genuine animosity than there had once been on both sides. He was pretty sure Adam had meant indecent as a compliment, judging from the look in his eye and the way that he stalked over to grab the skateboard tool hanging off of Reki’s collar and give it a gentle tug, grinning after, like he was pleased with that too.

“It is my house,” Adam responded quite reasonably, giving the collar a second tug. “Are you going to leash your mutt, Little Langa? I’ve already harnessed my good little pup.”

“I don’t own him.” Langa finished his second eye and moved on to debating some red lipsticks, presumably for creating bloodstains. 

“And he doesn’t own you?” Adam was far too hopeful sounding for Reki’s taste. How many boyfriends did Adam need?

“But why are you here?” Reki repeated.

“We’re leaving in ten minutes. I already warned the other lovebirds. We’re going to drive, not fly, but there will be a smoke machine for our entrance.”

“Are we picking up Shadow and Miya too, or are they meeting us there?”

“Meeting us there. The limo is just for the vampires and werewolves.”

“I’ll do the race,” Langa broke in, reasserting himself in Adam and Reki’s conversation.

“Oh good!” Adam exclaimed. “I’ll let Puppy know to throw in some robes for after you and Cherry Blossom strip. Unless you want to decline them? I promise I won’t mind, and, yes, yes, I also swear your virgin blood and body will be safe from me either way…until we’re in private at least,” The older man leered dramatically.

“Strip?” Langa and Reki questioned at the same time in vastly different tones, Langa mildly confused, and Reki in the midst of cardiac arrest.

“Naturally. There have to be real consequences to the beef, and you didn’t think I would let even my favorite people wear the same costume as me all night, did you?”

Reki continued to sputter, quick brain failing him four times over with broken concentration, while Langa replied, completely unphased, “Pack the robe just in case.”

“Oh don’t look at me that way, Gearshift. You’re as bad as Tadashi. The costume contest was not all some giant plot to get Langa and Cherry naked early in the night….It’s just an enjoyable side benefit.” 

And with that, Adam swept back out of the room. “See you at the car, boy toys.”

Reki took a moment to regulate his breathing. “I’m thinking…You know I’ve been thinking…”

He didn’t know how to go back on his previous statement and say the race was a bad idea after all when all options he saw ended in Langa asking him if he was jealous, getting mad at him, or both.

“We should be exclusive?” Langa finished his sentence differently, but Reki would definitely take it. “Me too.”

“Dude, yeah!”  Was it peak romance? Maybe not. But it was them. “You always know what I’m thinking.”

It occurred to Reki that they should seal the deal with a kiss. Then it occurred to him how the fangs might make it more difficult, but that waiting until they were out of costume would be even harder.

It also ran through his mind that his chest was feeling much lighter now than it had even before their conversation with Adam. Langa wanted him. That much he knew even before, but having it confirmed made it feel like maybe Langa wouldn’t abandon him even if he was an indecisive flake and maybe even everything else in the future could work out if he kept track of that one simple goal that was enough.

The only real problem was what to do about the Decepticon.

[citrine-elephant]

claire telling leon in infinite darkness that his suit basically clashed with who he was makes me think that she'd see him in his re6 outfit whilst in china and just go, "yeah alright that's close enough"

she sees his slutty chest and nods. that's leon. that's mr slut kennedy

(as a disclaimer, "slut" is used as affectionate. as a man i'm uncomfortable using the term for women, but i will never use the term derogatorily. slut shaming ain't cool, any gender can be a slut. just be safe and practice consent!)

[spellsparkler]

I do think I've uncovered the trick necessary for my aromantic ass to be able to comfortably-ish write romantic dynamics (it's to make the character also not know what romance is. I can't get it wrong if they're the one getting it wrong!!)

[high-key-satan-low-key-satanic]

Yuri : That was so hot, babe.

Satan : Thanks.

Yukio : I'm a little scared to ask, but what did he do?

Satan : Nothing? I literally called some filthy human who flirted with your mother a degenterate dog and told them I planned to turn them into a blood eagle if they were persistent.

Yukio : I'm sorry a blood-what?

Satan : A blood eagle, it's not too difficult to do. You just carve the back open and cut the ribs away from their spine, pull out the lungs from the gap, and inflate.

Yukio : *Disgusted*

Satan : Blood eagle, honestly, what do they teach you in school nowadays.

Yuri : Again, I'm so in love with you.

Satan : Again, thanks.