#or like telling them it’s fine to break societal convention to be heard

[lukestarkillerisgay]

the like bastardization of “protecting your peace” and “prioritizing self care” has led to the most insufferable inconsiderate people on earth - these mantras are for people surrounded by negativity / people who don’t save space for themselves in any capacity — it’s not meant as a catch all to justify why youre being fucking rude , if you’re so self centered that you think your emotions always need to be voiced always need to be tended to you’re just a dick you’re not standing up for yourself you’re being rude , you NEED to consider how you make other people feel you can’t just pretend your emotions are the main emotions and i know even as im typing this the fucking assholes reading this will see it and remind themself of some past wrong and be like “yeah THAT person needs to consider how they make other people (ME) feel” like god can yall not put your own ego and self obsession aside for long enough to look and see that other people are as complex as you , and that centering your own emotions or being upset that other people refuse to do that doesn’t make you a self advocate it makes you rude and immature

[mochegato]

An Irrevocably Gone Heart

Tim tugged on her arm.  “You’re coming with me.”

“What?” Marinette exclaimed a little louder than she meant to.  She immediately looked around to see if any of the other party goers had noticed them and cringed at the eyes on her.  She gave them a weak smile and moved closer to Tim, who was still pulling them toward the stairs. “No, no, no, no.  This is a family thing.”  She tried to pull away discretely but Tim had her arm in a firm lock.  Damn vigilante training.  She could break out of it of course, but not without making a scene in front of a growing audience, which was starting to include his family.  

They were all moving to the stairs like Tim was, and unwillingly her as well, to stand behind Mr. Wayne as he addressed the crowd at his New Year’s party. She briefly looked over to them to see if they had noticed her yet.  One of the brothers in particular, Jason, had observed the interaction between her and Tim and was watching her carefully.  She accidentally met his eyes and couldn’t look away.  She saw a flicker of interest and amusement in his eyes and blushed at the attention.  She was so caught up in his eyes, she stumbled slightly, giving Tim the advantage in dragging her the last few feet to the stairs.

“You’re like family.  In fact, I like you more than most of my family so… You’re coming.”  Tim grinned at her mercilessly.  She couldn’t get away now without causing a stir in the crowd, drawing all eyes away from Mr. Wayne and to her.  She was caught and they both knew it, trapped by societal convention.  He pulled her onto the stairs next to him and the rest of the family, facing the crowd of party goers and reporters.

“Okay first, I hate being in front of a lot of people.  Second, this seems incredibly counterproductive,” Marinette hissed quietly at him.

“Depends on your goal,” he said with a polite, fake smile, keeping his eyes on the crowd.  “Now smile for the cameras, Love.”

Marinette groaned quietly at him and turned to face the crowd with the practiced, PR worthy smile Adrien had taught her.  She stood a polite distance from Tim, making it clear that although she was here with him, she wasn’t here with him.  Tim chuckled devilishly and pulled her closer to him, slinging his arm around her shoulders. “I’m going to make you pay for this.” She threatened through gritted teeth and a beautiful smile.  “You know who I am but you won’t know where I am and you will never see me coming.”

“Calm down, Trevor.  And you’re welcome.” His smile turned real and his eyes glistened with mirth. “Tomorrow our picture, and more importantly your clothes, will be everywhere in Gotham.”

As soon as Bruce was done with his welcoming speech, they bolted from the stairs to escape his family’s and reporter’s questions.  Tim guided her as they ran through the maze of the manor. They finally stopped running in a back hallway, doubling over in laughter and out of breath.  “Oh man, my family is going to drive themselves insane trying to figure out who you are.”

Marinette closed her eyes and groaned.  “How did this help?  It’s only going to make Bruce more curious about me to make sure I’m not a gold-digger or using you.”

“Marinette, calm down.  You aren’t using me or abusing our friendship to get your name out there.  It was my idea and as I recall, to get you to let me commission you for the suit and come with me, I had to blackmail you int...”  She lunged at him to slam her hands over his mouth.

She glared at him as she looked around to see if anyone heard them.  As soon as she was sure nobody was around to hear them, missing the body listening to them around the corner, she batted at Tim with a pout.  “They don’t know that and how are you going to explain it?”

“I’ll figure it out without saying anything important.” He looked back in the general direction of the party.  “We should get back though.”

“Ugh, fine, but I’m not staying until midnight just for some trust fund prick to try to ‘slum it’ for a night with me. And next time, you come with your boyfriend, not me.  And I can design both of your suits instead.” She adds with a smug grin.

“If you can get him into a suit, deal.” Tim scoffed.  “Good luck with that by the way.  Come on, give me one dance as a reprieve before I have to be sociable. And if any other trust fund pricks try anything with you, I promise to destroy them.”  He gave her a wink.

“Like I need you to do that for me.” She snarked at him.

“Oh definitely not, but it would give me an acceptable excuse to leave the party.” Tim shrugged with a smile.

Jason watched them walk back toward the party from his spot tucked away in an alcove.  Well, this night was certainly more interesting than he had anticipated.  He followed them back to the party and kept an eye on the friends as they danced.  The woman, Marinette, seemed to be having an awfully good time dancing and joking with Tim considering he was ‘blackmailing’ her, but then again if they were friends, like it seemed they were, it was likely to be more embarrassing than damning.

As far as Jason could tell, despite how much she had complained to Tim earlier, Marinette was handling the crowd brilliantly.  She managed to make the rounds at the party talking pleasantly with quite a few people.  A few of her conversation partners had been attending Wayne parties for years and tonight was the first night Jason saw them give a genuine smile.  But, if anyone made the mistake of trying to touch her a little too intimately or make a comment that was a bit too suggestive, or just flat out insulting, she sent them a dark glare that would make Batman proud and crowded their personal space in a way that had the aggressor backing away intimidated and Jason impressed.

Jason tore his eyes away from Marinette and moved to the bar to get some liquid patience.  Tim might be a natural at mingling but he needed a little help to deal with this crowd. The only interesting part of the entire evening had been Tim’s friend.  She had wandered around the room with an effortless grace and stood up for herself with just as effortless strength.  It was a hard balance to maintain and she pulled it off beautifully, just like the rest of herself.  

Jason set his empty drink down and looked down the bar for the bartender.  He didn’t find the bartender, but he did find the stunning woman herself sitting alone with an empty seat next to her.  He moved quickly, seeing a few other men eying her with interest as well.  “Is this seat taken?” He asked with a charming smile.

“It is not.” She said tiredly, not even bothering to look up.  “My date isn’t using it right now.”

“Smooth.” Jason nodded in approval.  “Timbo would just push me out if he wanted the seat.  Well, he’d try anyway.” He took the seat and ordered another drink from the newly appeared bartender.  “Want a refill?”

“I’m good thank you.”  She continued staring at her drink.

Jason grinned at her.  She wasn’t remotely interested in playing nice just for the sake of propriety.  She wasn’t rude, just not easily impressed.  “I’m Tim’s brother, Jason.”

She looked over at him in surprise and immediately cringed internally.  He was the brother she had embarrassed herself gaping at earlier.  “Oh, I’m sorry.  Hi. Nice to meet you.  I’m Marinette.”  She reached her hand out to him with a smile.  “Sorry, I thought you were another… never mind.  Hi.”

He gave her a disarming smile and shook her hand.  “Don’t worry about it, I understand.  The kind of people who come to this are… rich is the nicest thing to say about almost any of them.  And you know what they say, eat the rich.”  He dropped her hand but kept his eyes on her.  

She raised an eyebrow at him.  “Aren’t you rich?”

He chuckled.  “No, Bruce is.  I make my own, significantly less red carpeted, way.”

She looked at him skeptically then eyed his tuxedo.  “Awfully expensive tux for someone who isn’t rich.” She commented wryly.

“Bruce’s party, he wants me here, he pays.  I don’t normally wear suits, let alone ones that cost more than six month’s rent.”

She studied the tuxedo again.  “Six months, huh?  That still affords you a pretty nice apartment by Gotham standards.”

He bobbed his head to the side in acknowledgement and studied her again, trying to make sense of her.  “So, what does he have on you?”

She cocked her head to the side and stared at him in confusion as she tried to figure out what he meant.  Her face scrunched in annoyance and her entire posture stiffened once she figured it out.  “If you think Tim has to blackmail me into being his friend, you vastly underestimate your brother’s charms.”

“No I don’t.” Jason scoffed at her.  “I meant bringing you here.”

She raised an eyebrow at him and set her mouth in a firm line.  “You think he has to blackmail me to spend time with him? How is that better?”

“I think he blackmailed you to get you to come to this specific event.  And I think that because I heard him say it to you in the hallway a little bit ago.” Jason responded matter-of-factly, taking another swig of his drink.

“Ah…” She looked back down at her drink and took a long sip trying to figure out how to respond.  Well on the bright side, he wasn’t insulting Tim with his question, he was trying to understand if she was a threat.  But, she wasn’t going to make it that easy for him.  She looked back over to him and gave him a pointed look.  “If it was something I wanted to share, it wouldn’t be blackmail material.”  

Jason grinned at her “True.” Still staring at her expectantly.

“Let’s just say there are things I would rather… uh…” she looked around cautiously, “Bruce Wayne, not know about me.”

Jason raised an eyebrow at her. “Is that so?”

“Yeah… Oh! No.  Nothing like that.  I’m not like Catwoman or one of the sirens or anything.”  She waved her hands frantically in front of her.

He chuckled.  “Honestly I don’t think that would be considered an issue for him.”

She cocked her head to the side, “True.  The most bizarre relationship ever.”

“Not when Joker and Harley once existed.”

“Most appalling relationship ever.”

Jason chuckled and looked into his glass until he realized what she had said. “Wait, how did you know…”

“What?”

“Catwoman and…” he motioned vaguely with his hand.  She hadn’t confirmed she knew Bruce was Batman and he wasn’t about to out that particular secret if she didn’t know.

“Ohh,” She nodded in understanding and gave him a grin.  “Your family isn’t as slick as they think they are, Red.”

Jason stared at her dumbfounded for a few seconds.  She knew their secret and apparently Tim, the one person that matched Bruce in paranoia, wasn’t worried about her in the least.  “And he’s blackmailing you?” Jason asked incredulously. “How bad is your secret?”

“Not bad just… I don’t need someone critiquing all my life choices, you know? It’s a threat of annoyance, not retribution.”

“Mood.” Jason said lifting his glass to hers.  She clinked hers to his with a sardonic smile.  

She was beautiful, smart, elegant, tough, funny, judicious, cautious, and far out of his league.  But he was here now and they were having fun and he wasn’t stupid enough to blow a brilliant opportunity.  Jason gazed over his shoulder toward the dancefloor and back to her.  He looked her up and down and gave her a roguish smile. “Care to dance?”

“I didn’t take you for a dancer.” She responded as she moved toward the dancefloor and held out her hand for him.

He grabbed her hand, holding it close to his chest and wrapped his other hand around her waist, pulling her closer to him.  “It has its advantages.”

Marinette looked up at him with wide eyes, a light blush dusting her cheeks. “I see what you mean.”  She ducked her head trying to collect herself.  He wasn’t the first handsome man she’d danced with, why was this one making her lose her composure?  She wasn’t 15 anymore, damn it!

“So how did you figure it out?” he asked casually.  He clearly wasn’t upset, just curious.

“How does everyone not?  Seriously, Bruce admitted it under oath.” She scoffed.  “Plus you guys are terrible at hiding it.  You don’t even try to act or look different.  Oh look Bruce Wayne has a new ward or person who hangs out with the family all the time.  Oh look, there’s a new vigilante with the same build and hair color.  Pure coincidence surely.  Then there’s the whole butts match thing.”

“Wow, been studying Bruce’s butt that closely, huh?” Jason raised an unamused eyebrow at her.

“Who said anything about Bruce’s butt?” She asked without thinking about it.  Jason spluttered at her.  Her eyes widened and her face paled as she realized what she had just said.

“Forget I said that,” she pleaded, her face turning bright red.

“Oh fuck no.  That’s the best compliment I’ve ever gotten.  A gorgeous woman has been studying my ass so intently she was able to identify me by it?” He gave her a brilliant smile so wide, his cheeks would surely hurt the next morning.  “My ego will never come down from this.”

Marinette groaned in embarrassment and buried her head in her hands and then buried her head and hands in his chest, trying to erase all evidence of her existence. Jason wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly as he roared with laughter.  Marinette could feel his body vibrating with the sound.  The movement calmed her enough that she was willing to remove her hands from her face but not her face from his chest.  “I hope you’ll let me return the favor someday.” He whispered in her ear.

Marinette jerked her head back to look at him, her eyes wide and cheeks a deep crimson.  When her eyes met the wicked glint in his, she narrowed hers, a hint of a smile on her lips.  “Good luck with that.  Magic is a hell of a thing.”

Jason looked at her confused.  That was not a response he was expecting… or understood.  They stared in each other’s eyes for a few moments, both trying to figure out something about the other.  Marinette finally broke the silence with a teasing smile.  “So, you’re Jason, huh?  I’ve heard a few things about you.”  She chuckled lightly when he rolled his eyes at that and groaned lightly.  “Did you really do a flip off of one building to crash through the skylight of another and beat up a bunch of henchmen then set their drug room on fire all while quoting Shakespeare?”

He barked out a loud laugh and smiled brightly at her, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “It was Austen.”

She smiled back at him but quickly narrowed her eyes and quirked her head to the side.  “Prove it,” She challenged him, a playful lilt in her voice.  He looked at her questioningly not sure how exactly he was supposed to crash through a skylight when there wasn’t one here.  “Quote some Austen to me.  I have a hard time believing the formidable… you, is secretly a book nerd.”

A delighted smile creeped onto his face.  Marinette was the first person to ask him about his love for literature and encourage him to indulge in it.  He tried to remember all the many Jane Austen quotes he’d memorized through reading and rereading her works so often.  What would be the most impressive quote?  Which one would wow her the most?  He ransacked his brain, but suddenly his mind was blank.  He couldn’t think of anything.  The harder he tried to remember, the harder it was to think.  He opened and closed his mouth a few times.

Marinette watched the panic flit across his eyes.  She cringed internally.  She got anxiety when she was put on the spot.  Jason must be the same.  It was one thing to do it in the heat of the moment, without thinking about it, but being asked to perform on demand, was a different kind of pressure. She gently cupped his cheek and brought his eyes back down to hers and gave him a soft smile.  “Maybe you can show me later.  I’ll still be impressed tomorrow.”

He looked in her eyes and instantly felt himself calm down.  Her eyes were shining with compassion, like she understood exactly what was going on in his head and believed in him.  He pulled her closer and gave her a tender smile in return. He ran his fingers slowly up and down her back, “The very first moment I beheld you, my heart was irrevocably gone.” He quoted quietly.  

Marinette gasped at his frankness.  She leaned her head against his chest, trying to hide the deep blush that enveloped her cheeks and spread to her ears.  After a few moments of silent swaying in his arms, she cleared her throat and weakly spoke, “That… yeah, uh… that works.  Point proven.”

He chuckled lightly, a proud smile working its way onto his face.  He moved his hand so they were both wound around her waist, holding her close to him.  She settled further into his chest, causing him to sigh contentedly.  They danced together for a while, refusing others that attempted to cut in with either one of them, Marinette doing so significantly more politely than Jason did.  After a while, Tim tapped her on the shoulder.  “I thought I was your date.” He stated with a suspicious smile.

“Oh fuck off, Timbers.” Jason grunted at him, twirling Marinette so she was on the other side of him from Tim.

Marinette poked her head out around Jason’s side to give Tim a sheepish look. “Sorry, Tim.  You were busy.  Did you need a break from socializing?”

“Uh huh,” he responded sarcastically.  “No, I’m good.  And I thought you weren’t going to stay until midnight?  Something…” he eyed Jason meaningfully, “come up?”

Marinette looked at him in surprise and searched for a clock.  Surely it hadn’t been hours.  If felt like it had just been a few minutes with Jason.  She finally found the prominent clock that had been hung to countdown to midnight and gaped at it.  “Oh my God.  It’s almost midnight!”  She looked back to Tim in time to see him pulling back from whispering something in Jason’s ear.

“Well, I’m going to go call Kon so we can ring in the New Year together in some way.” Tim said tightly.  He leaned over and kissed Marinette on the cheek. “Happy New Year, Marinette.  I hope it’s a happy one.”  He gave Jason a pointed look.

“Happy New Year, Tim.  I hope it is for you as well.”  She smiled at him.  As soon as he left, Jason pulled Marinette back into his embrace.  “What was that about?”  She asked him.

“What?” He asked innocently.

“The whispering.  There isn’t a problem is there?  You’re not going to have to run off 2 minutes before midnight?”

Jason chuckled at her.  “No.  No, that was him warning me to treat you like you deserve.”

“Like I…” she thought about it and gave him a half-hearted smile before muttering. “Not sure if that is a threat to you or me.”  

“Threat for me, blessing for you.” Jason answered softly.

“You think too highly of me.” She shook her head with a small smile.

“Doubt it.” He answered back quietly.  “And it sounds like I’m going to be held personally accountable if your year isn’t amazing, so I better get on that.”

10

“Sounds like you’ll have to keep a close eye on me.  I can be a handful.” She said quietly, looking up at him from under her lashes.

9  

“Rough job, but amazing work environment.”  He answered just as quietly, pulling her even closer.

8

“And what are the benefits to giving you the job?” She gave him a playful smile.

7

“You get to see my roguishly handsome face and get Austen and Shakespeare quoted at you daily.”  He grinned back.

6  

“What if I prefer Verne or Hugo?” She asked with exaggerated innocence.

5  

“Then I’ll learn.” His eyes turned serious and his voice husky.

4  

Jason slowly moved one of his hands up her back, around her shoulder, and rested it on her neck, stroking her jaw with his thumb.

3  

Marinette parted her lips in surprise and leaned into his hand.

2  

Jason leaned down toward Marinette, stopping a bit short of her lips, giving her the chance to pull back if she wanted to.

1  

Marinette rose up to close the gap, meeting his lips in a soft, tentative, hopeful kiss.

The room erupted into cheers and applause at the clock striking midnight. Balloons dropped from the ceiling all around them, but the only thing Jason or Marinette noticed was each other. The feeling of the other’s lips against theirs.  The feel of the other’s hands on their bodies and the feel of their own hands on them. The warmth of each other’s bodies against their own.  The deep need that grew the longer they kissed.  When they finally broke apart, it was just far enough to catch their breath and stare in each other’s eyes.

“This was a great way to ring in the New Year.” She whispered against his lips.

He nodded absentmindedly, still in a daze from the kiss.  “There’s still a few more time zones that need to be rung in,” he said leaning down to capture her lips again in a passionate kiss.

[londonfog-chan]

The Trans!Reader x Jonathan Joestar That No One Asked For But is Getting Anyway Because Fuck Convention: Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy

This one goes out to all my people who requested a Trans!Reader insert on my other blogs, I’m trying to test the waters with this one to make sure I’m doing it justice. No one should ever have to feel bad about themselves and I want this to be my love letter to all of my trans folks out there.

...

[[MORE]]

At first, she didn’t recognize the young man standing alone on the hill. Maybe you’d been chased off by him, and she worried when she saw your box in his hand. Heartbroken, thinking that your treasure had been commandeered by a brute. But the wind betrayed the boy, billowing locks of hair and instantly she broke out into a run, the turquoise fabric of her dress flaring out behind her as she hitched up her skirts, her blonde hair trailing behind her like a cape.

“I am here!” she called your name, and when the young man turned she saw the friend she’d known since infancy.

“Oh my!” the lightest dusting of pink tinges her cheeks as she skids to a halt directly in front of you. “You look… Dashing! Such fanciful clothes.”

“I had to make an impression darling.” You reply, smiling shyly and holding a hat box closely to your chest. “My brother won’t miss the trousers nor the blouse, but the shoes… They’re far too big for me. And… And I’m unsure how to tie the cravat...”

“Don’t fret, I can fix it for you! Look, I’ve even brought some things for you to pin up your hair. We’ll have you all primped in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

Like a mother, Erina Pendleton takes you between her knees on the grassy knoll. Armed with a brush and a coil of ribbon, she pulled and twisted your snarled tangles up and away from your face. You obediently pulled a man’s cap out of the hatbox and over your head as Erina finished with your hair and took your shoes off, pulling stockings from her basket and stuffing your shoes until they fit snugly when she tied the laces.

“Oh…” she smiles when she’s done, and for some reason it makes your heart tingle the slightest bit.

“What do you think?” you ask.

“I think… I think you’re positively handsome, and you seem to be less tightly wound. Especially around the eyes.”

You’re unsure of how you look, so you can’t say for certain that you feel the clothes have done anything to make you less of a wreck emotionally. Raising your arms over your head, you look at your shoes, the cravat Erina showed you how to tie around your neck, the tweed trousers. Everything is in muted colors, not a stitch of brightness to be seen save for the handkerchief peeping from your breast pocket. When you stole the clothes from the discarded trunk your brother left behind before he went to India, you felt exhilarated, frightened at the prospect of getting caught and possibly taking a switch for your boldness. Yet when your mother caught you taking them, she merely laughed and told you they wouldn't fit your brother even if you decided to fix them up, but if you wanted some play clothes they were more than adequate to serve that purpose. You decidedly felt deflated, a bit hurt she didn't really do anything and dismissed you as though you were an eccentric child playing at a game instead of a young man trying to come into his own. But you do feel something now that Erina has fixed you up… almost airy. And she is right, you don’t feel the strain around your eyes anymore. After a while however, you begin to squirm, indeed feeling something but not the freedom nor the personal acceptance you've been trying to achieve.

“My trousers chafe me so!” you complained. “Have they not managed to figure out a finer weave of fabric for the warmer months?!”

“Stop scratching! You’re being so vulgar!" Erina whines, but it does nothing to deter you from reaching into the band of your pants and scratching violently everywhere.

"Damn and blast!"

"Sophisticated gentlemen don't reach into their drawers and scratch in front of a lady!" she scolds, "You said you want to unleash the gentleman inside you, what would he say to this display?”

“Well right now the gentleman inside me wants me to tend to the war raging on my buttocks!”

Erina cries your name, begging you to stop scratching your rear end with a ferocity that nearly makes you roar in frustration. It does take quite a long time for you to relent, damning the conventions of polite society all the way and using rough language that the poor girl has unfortunately become accustomed to. For a while you complain some more about the clothes, the societal expectation to be covered at all times, the fact that neither gender is truly free of their own volition, and the revolution you wish to start for a society that is nothing short of anarchy.

"Everyone will be allowed to run stark naked if they wish to, or to be draped in silks and I'll make all these pompous aristocrats provide every necessity. I grow weary of hearing the necessities of decorum every five minutes when I simply wish to fulfill a human need!"

“Now, now…” Erina coos gently, brushing blades of grass from your trousers. “Look here, you’ve unsightly grass stains.

"If I must return to my flouncing hell I'll take care of it later." you told her. "Grass stains speak to a boy that craves adventure. An Odysseus!"

"I'm sure it does." she giggles. "But all this talk of treasure, we still haven’t taken care of the most important part.”

“… I’d nearly forgotten about that. Let me get her for you…”

You finally relinquish the tight hold you’ve been keeping on your hat box, slowly opening the lid and reaching in with both hands. Cradling your treasure as though it’s a child, you rock your precious doll back and forth, smoothing the cascading brown curls down and fixing her skirts. It takes a while for you to let go. You don’t want to let the poor thing go. She is far beyond a play thing, she was your bearer of the most heartfelt confessions and tears, the first to know of your beginning metamorphosis back when you feared Erina would call you horrific names if you told her your most guarded secret.

Now, when you look up at Erina, you know you’ve made the right decision to trust her. She scoots closer to you as you tremble, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and not once making a move to steal the doll from your grasp. In fact, she doesn’t presume to take it until you offer it to her, and then she treats it as though she is receiving a holy relic.

“Please…” you beseech your best friend, “Give her a good home, with plenty of love and affection. She likes to sleep beside your pillow in her box, and her favorite holiday is Easter, her favorite food is spice cake…”

“You can trust me, my dearest friend. I promise to take very good care of Aphrodite for you.”

Slender fingers reached forward to stroke your cheek, clearing away the tears that have fallen for the poor doll you relinquished. As she cleans your face, she tells you the doll will never leave her sight, fully prepared to cater to her every whim as though she's a princess and not made of wax. Yet Erina is right. You mustn’t cry. It’s only for a little while that Erina will have her, until you’re grown up and have a house of your own to keep your possessions. Unsure of your parent's reaction when you finally decide that they need to know they've lost a daughter and obtained a son, you told Erina it's better to keep Aphrodite away lest she is destroyed. You promised your dolly she'd be safer with Erina those nights you cuddled her, seeking reassurance from the persecution you knew you’d face from the rest of the world.

“When I’m a grown man, I’ll be a renowned physician.” You asserted aloud. “I’ll have a big house, millions of books, my piano, and I’ll play Aphrodite’s favorite songs for her every single day. If I am not accepted, then that will be fine. No family will be permitted to enter my abode except for you, my dearest Erina. We will have twenty dogs apiece, and I shall give them only the strongest names from Greco Roman literature.”

“Twenty apiece?!” Erina exclaimed. “Don’t you think that’s a mite excessive?”

“Not at all, in fact I think that’s hardly a proper minimum requirement for a house.”

All this talk of dogs and estates with room for a man and his doll makes you excited, and you cannot help but take your borrowed handkerchief from your pocket to wipe your face. The wind evidently shared your sentiments, as the minute you loosened your grip the scrap of fabric floated away on a gust that made you clutch your hat for fear of losing it.

“Oh no!” Erina whimpered. “I hand embroidered that handkerchief!”

“A thousand pardons darling! I’ll fetch it back!” you cried, and you’re up and running before she can stop you.

As you chased the scrap of fabric, you couldn’t help but feel elated. There was no tug at your waist that made your insides hurt and your breathing shallow, no skirts to trip you and confine you to a chair where you practiced the same stitch over and over until your fingers felt they would break. None of the insecurity and strangeness at inhabiting a body that did not feel like it belonged to you. You only felt the wind at your face, the hard earth below your brother’s shoes as you ran… No longer did you feel trapped, like a lion pacing a tiny cage in the circus.

You felt elated at last. As though finally, after all this time, you were living your truth.

It was Erina’s screams that finally snapped you from your euphoria. Pocketing the runaway handkerchief, you began your course back to the grassy knoll where you left her, fearing the worst when you heard her crying out “please! Please put her down!” Your heart sank. Not only was your dearest friend being assaulted, but her tormentor evidently had commandeered Aphrodite because there was only one other “her” that Erina could be referring to. She never referred to you in the old way anymore, not since your confession.

You made it just in time to see a young man being beaten to the ground, two other snot nosed brats, had commandeered Aphrodite and you heard talk of them going to lift up her skirts to see if she'd been made with all the right parts…

And the last thing you remembered was seeing red, absolutely seething with rage as you put a shoe up the ass of one of the boys and nearly launched Aphrodite into Erina’s arms. All the frustration, all the anger you felt your entire life of living a life that wasn’t yours, it came out in the form of an unchecked feral response that made the boys cry out for mercy as they left you, Erina, and the downtrodden young man alone. By the time you'd let them go, they could only hobble off pathetically. In your rage you vaguely recalled screaming to them that perhaps you'd check if they'd been given all the right parts, one of the boys had taken your brother's shoe to the groin and was being dragged along by his companion. Your face was dripping with sweat and tears, and your hands were sore and bloody. The blonde didn’t know who to comfort first, but when your eyes befell on the strapping young lad she too went to his aid.

“Don’t touch me!” he whined. “I didn’t do it for you, you know! A gentleman should always stand for a damsel in distress!”

“… then I suppose a thank you is in order for me?”

The words are out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. Even you're shocked at the personality you've assumed in your new clothes. With little effort your voice has become commanding, a general's voice that is full of conviction. Your stance is confident, centered, alone in your room you often perused illustrations in books of the matadores from Spain and admired the way they carried themselves in the charcoal drawings. Compared to the uptight men of this era, you swore to yourself you'd reject the stiffness of aristocracy and instead would carry yourself as unyielding as a man facing a bull. The young man looks up at you, crimson with rage, shaking and nose streaming carmine down his face. He and Erina have the same bewildered and intimidated expression, and he flinches but does not lash out when you heave him to his feet. He finally bolts from the clearing, insulting you as though you’re the one that beat him to a pulp, and for quite some time you and Erina stare after his retreating form.

"You brute!" he whimpers as he runs away.

“Who in the blue hell…” you begin, and you see Erina approaching with an unfamiliar handkerchief in hand to wrap your bloody knuckles.

Through the blood, the two of you manage to read the words “Jonathan Joestar”, looking back at the expanse of land where the boy had run off to even more confused and left with far more questions than answers.

But one thing is certain and you loathe it to be the first thought you have in your emergence into boyhood: this Jonathan Joestar fellow is the most handsome man you've ever seen in your life.

[emphasis-all-mine]

Paper Skin Trivia/Headcanons

Well, here’s my (abbreviated) Paper Skin headcanon/trivia lists for the main characters. Let me know if you have any questions or want me to expand any more?

Lance

Cuban and Spanish, raised by his Mom and Grandma, came to US when he was 4.

06/21 ETA: Born a werewolf, as were his brothers and sister (werewolf bloodlines in this AU are Matrilineal and he's descended of only wolfmothers, more on that soooooon).

Refers to Cindy as Mama Garrett and Henry by his first name because he is still a little detached (was raised without his dad present in Cuba so it feels weird)

Loves to climb trees and go up high, instinctively longs to climb mountains.

Didn't do that great at school so he decided to put off college and wound up becoming a jack-of-all-trades and a self-taught chef.

Cooking helps him remember his mother, makes him feel closer to her.

Is a cat person, doesn't like dogs and especially hates coyotes and jackals instinctively. (Will try to maul a jackal on sight. Coyotes just get angry growls.)

LOVES cats of all kinds. Will befriend mountain lions during full moon much to their surprise, or break into a zoo and make nice with all the big cats if left unattended.

Okay so one time when he was a teenager he got into the Bronx Zoo and first tried to chill with the leopards/black panther in the jungle exhibit but it was closed, then he tried to go see the snow leopards & the tigers but couldn't get into their enclosures. Somehow figured out how to get to the Lions.

He mauled a rare deer and dragged it into the Lion enclosure to present to them and become an honorary member of the pride. 

The Garretts and some other members of their pack had to break in and drag him away

The Lions were not happy that they lost their new pack member but got over it.

Whenever he visits the zoo as a guest you could SWEAR they recognize him and call out to him.

When he's a wolf he prefers deer or other hoofed mammals and second favorite is rodents. (Ends up eating birds just because of his natural tree-climbing instincts. Also he knows Hunk likes them so he brings him pigeons and quails.)

All time favorite thing he's eaten as a wolf was a Moose that he caught for Keith (will explain in a future chapter) with a very lost and confused Caribou as a runner up.

Least favorite is crow or birds of prey but he gets short-sighted when he's wolfy and sometimes just hunts for the thrill of it. He's taken down a red-tailed hawk and an Eagle owl.

Favorite music: Shakira (prefers her ¿Dónde Están Los Ladrones?-era stuff), Gorillaz, TV on the Radio, Robyn, Rihanna

Keith

Was brought into the Shirogane clan at around age 12/13.

Identifies as Asian-American since his Dad was part Korean but does not know where his mom came from. Assumes she was of a mixed background as well.

His dad was sired by Akira Kogane, who was of Chinese and Japanese descent so he wonders if that filters down with vampire progeny?

Speaks very little Japanese, enough to answer Shiro if he uses a well-known phrase but not enough to converse

Has a recurring nightmare where tree branches start growing out of his throat and choke him

Really wants a motorcycle but will settle for a car of his own. Doesn't want Shiro to buy it, he's saving his own money.

He's actually a very good driver and Shiro will let him drive his vehicles.

Studied outside of school with help from coven members that were teachers as also some help from Pidge and the Holts so he was able to get his GED at 19

Very glad he has Umbra for a pet because she is very good at helping him figure out the time of day based on her behavior and feeding habits (yes he forgets that his phone will tell him the time and weather conditions because he is so used to living completely indoors)

Has a bug-out room in the apartment he shares with Lance. It's much bigger than the closet corner and has room for some emergency supplies and he's put up some corkboards on the walls.

Prefers type O blood and tries to avoid AB because it's like OJ with pulp (there's too much extra antigens in it). Loves pork blood when it's Lance's recipe.

Favorite music: Dolly Parton, The Cure, MCR, Siouxsie & the Banshees and PJ Harvey

Hunk

Born a werewolf, mostly Grey wolf but there's some Asian/Japanese wolf ancestry

Full name is Tsuyoshi Garrett (born Tsuyoshi Seido but had it legally changed when Henry Garrett adopted him)

His mom is Cynthia Tsukiyama-Garrett, and birth father is Tsutomo "Tommy" Seido

He considers Henry Garrett his Dad, hence why he took his last name instead of going by Seido or changing it to Tsukiyama

Henry gave Hunk his nickname after his half-brothers teased him about being a "runt"

Was great at school and did some undergrad at Hunter, then left to go to culinary school.

He finished culinary school and worked at his Mom's bar while trying to figure out if he really wanted to work in a fancy restaurant that wouldn't give him time away for full moon stuff

First time he met Shay he choked on his own spit because his mouth went dry and he nearly passed out

Second time was a better impression, his little sisters both caught the flu and were in wolf-form and was finally able to be his sweet charming self because he was so focused on his sisters' well-being that he forgot to freak out that the pretty veterinarian was smiling at him.

Had a full blown panic attack when he cooked for Shay without knowing she was a vegetarian and inadvertently won her heart with how caring and concerned he was.

Is practicing making Kushari because Shay's family is Egyptian and he wants to impress them. He already makes fantastic hummus.

His preferred food as a wolf is any kind of fowl (sparrow, chicken, turkey, etc.) Secretly loves peacock, but resists the urge to break back into St. John the Divine's Cathedral to snarf one up.

Least favorite food as a wolf is any kind of seafood or fish. Loves them as a human but finds them too bony and briny when wolfed-out.

Favorite music: Matt and Kim, LCD Soundsystem, Beck, The Hold Steady, Broken Social Scene

Pidge

Irish-Italian, her parents are very lapsed Catholics

Currently in High School and will end up at Columbia after timeskip

Needs to study an animal before trying to shift. Often pictures or online video is enough but really does prefer to be up close and personal so she can nail any vocalizations that the audio distorts or doesn't quite catch.

Her dad has a mastery of most animal forms and also can do inanimate objects. Pidge will work on that next. It takes a lot of concentration and holding her breath 

Keith is her favorite because he'll support her delinquency (he doesn't realize it) and she likes helping him figure societal conventions out. They talk or visit at least once a week if not more.

Pidge would make Keith do her homework as a way of home-schooling him (and it also reinforced whatever she was learning, meaning she'd ace every subject and test), it dropped off after Keith got his GED and started working. Schoolwork still is rather easy for her after so many years of teaching herself good study habits by tutoring Keith.

Shiro being ageless is a stable presence in her life, but she thinks of him as more of her brother's friend or like an eccentric uncle

(Pidge has many eccentric uncles and aunts due to her family being half fae descendants, and half metahumans)

Her favorite food is pancakes. Least favorite is eggplant.

Favorite music: Zoë Keating, Tricky, Portishead, Massive Attack, Modest Mouse 

Allura

Was introduced to the underground supernatural community of NYC by her godfather, Coran.

Born and raised in London. Westbourne Gardens area.

Came to the US on student visa and goes to grad school for biochem. Phlebotomy is a way for her to make money and help out Shiro, as Coran's family has known of his for years

No, she doesn't know why Coran has that accent even though he's lived in Brooklyn for as long as she knows

Her pet "mice" are actually Degus. She likes carrying them around in her pockets or purse, they are very well-behaved.

She's never going to bring them NEAR Lance because she knows how much he loves eating fuzzy little rodents

Her favorite food is Candy Floss, least favorite is tomatoes.

Favorite music: Nina Simone, Lana Del Rey, anything Stevie Nicks has done, Ms. Dynamite and Kylie Minogue

Shiro

Names all his businesses after vampire things because he believes in hiding in plain sight (Shuten-dōji was the yokai/vampire that turned him)

Didn't return to his hometown after being turned into a vampire. Was too ashamed and scared he would hurt them. His neighbors and friends assumed he died in the Great Tenmei famine.

Despite his issues with aging, he's tried dying his hair but it looks awful so he just leaves the white streak

Was a very good horseback rider in his youth. Joined the military and was a skilled fighter.

It took a while for him to adjust to motor vehicles. He hit Hunk's grandmother with his car, (but that's how he found the Tsukiyama pack so it worked out and she was fine.)

First cat was named Bobō, a calico. Current cat is Kikō, a tabby.

Prefers type B blood but will settle for O or AB. Type A makes him sneeze after he eats.

Not really a music fan, prefers quiet. He really liked jazz when he first heard it so he sometimes puts on very old, worn-out LPs.

He answers to Takashi or Shiro. Shi-kun or Shi-chan to friends that use his honorifics, later Shiro-kun or Shiro-chan, when he took the nickname referring to the white streak in his hair.

He still has a bad habit of not responding if people address him by Shirogane alone.

(Because "Shirogane-san" was his twin's preferred name)