#willdoitforher

[asphyxiahq]

( dylan minnette, 22, he/him ) welcome to san francisco, GABRIEL MONEDERO. rumor has it they are a CAMBION, but only they could tell you the truth! when i close my eyes, i think of them and imagine STAINED GREY TSHIRTS, HUSHED CONVERSATIONS AND NEWSPAPER CLIPPINGS STUCK TO THE WALL. ( sam, 21, he/him, gmt ) ( filling irati's sister connection and victoria's enemy connection ! )

[rexinferorum]

━━╋⊂ Seven of Swords - what is the worst instance of your character being manipulative?

            in  recent  memory,  it’s  probably  manipulating  aster  and  pretending  to  be  his  boyfriend.  in  the  end  it  all  worked  out  for  him  though  so,  he  doesn’t  really  see  it  as  that  bad.  there’s  also  the  time  he  conned  @ofsorrxws  into  selling  her  soul  /  accepting  his  help.   he  got  a  nun  to  sell  her  soul  and  she  died  maybe  ten  minutes  later.  that’s  …  not  great. 

      right  now,  he’s  currently  plotting  a  coup  to  take  over  the  throne  down  under  by  getting  in  and  friendly  with  the  inner  circle.  i  guess  you  could  say  that’s  manipulative  too. 

[frcmashes]

Soulmate AU / handon

under a read more because this is going to be a long one, boys.  the verse is tvd canon / legacies canon timeline. 

         he can’t remember a time before soulmates. it’s all anyone ever talks about.  when will they meet their soulmate,  how will they feel when it happens, will it be as perfect as they think ?   truthfully,  landon’s never been that interested.  his mother’s soulmate took off before he was born.  ‘ he wasn’t ready to be a father ‘  seylah tells him one day.   she’s had too much wine,  says it in a way that made him uncomfortable.   (  like she was jealous.  like she wishes, in her own way, she could have done the same.  )    so when he wakes up at 16 and doesn’t have any specific words on his body  ?   he’s relieved.   how many times in his lifetime will someone say his name  ?    yeah,  on the inside of his wrist, there’s the words;   landon?

           a few years later he meets a girl.  no,  he meets the girl.  she’s perfect in her imperfections.  she smiles when she looks like she wants to cry,  sticks up for him when idiots from his school try to give him a hard time.  he doesn’t need someone to fight his battles,  but his heart melts for it all the same.  when they dance under the twinkling lights in the square, as her eyes twinkle and he forgets to breathe,  he wishes in that moment that his name had been the first time she uttered.   but it wasn’t.  she might be perfect,  but she isn’t his.     he moves a few weeks later,  never gets to see if maybe.  maybe.     

       he moves to chicago.  he meets a girl,  they aren’t soulmates,  but he thinks - so what ?   they hook-up at a party,  and god, it’s a bad hook up,  and she cries and begs him not to tell anyone what her words say.   there,  dark as her lipstick, scrawls the truth;   i didn’t know you were gay.     maybe if he’d have noticed before,  he might have reconsidered this whole … thing.   but she’s sweet,  and she’s his friend,   so he keeps her secrets.  he’ll keep them until he dies.  it’s a promise he commits to.   he doesn’t date anyone after that.   he thinks it’s easier that way;   less confusion.  less anticipation.    he tells himself again he doesn’t care about soulmates,   doesn’t think about the girl with the sad smile and hopeful eyes.    doesn’t wish things were different.    (   except he does.  he does, too much.  )

     a thousand miles away,  a girl loses herself.   a mistake leads to devastation,  leads to loss,  and she’s not sure how to forgive.   to forgive the boy who tricked her,  or to forgive herself for being naive enough to trust.  she holds it in until she aches,  until the absence of expressing herself nearly tears her apart.   she’s a supernova,  she’s a black hole.   she doesn’t know which is worse.   (    she’s a black hole.   anyone who gets close,  they get sucked in.  she tears them apart by existing.   she has no control.    no one is safe in her arms.   )

     they tell her she’s doing better,  that she’ll be okay,  but all she knows is what it feels like to be left behind.  he waltzed into her life,  disrupted it,  and left her to pick up the pieces.   she met a boy once,  he made her smile,  but then the night ended,  the sun came up,  and he,  too,  was gone.   alone again,  she drifts.   but she’s not alone.   she has her family.   it’s enough.  it has to be enough.     because when she woke up on her 16th birthday,  there’s no words on her body.    she belongs to no one,  is no one’s.   it’s more hollow than she expects but it hurts all the same.  she smiles though because that’s what she does;   she gets hurt again,  and again,  and again,  but she shoves it down and pushes through.   if she doesn’t, who will  ?    people kill for her,  die for her,  but  never stay for her.    in the end,  they’re dust and shadows and she’s alone again.    her father,  her uncle,  they say it’s for love,  but why does it leave her so cold  ?

              but she wakes up and there are words on her arm.   hope?     she laughs,  laughs so hard that eventually they turn to tears.    screw hope.   she’s run out of it.   

  when they meet,  it’s chaotic.    he’s sitting on the steps of the church and she’s a woman on a mission,  hands raised as magic flows through her.   they know there’s a werewolf in that church and there’s enough blood on her hands.   she has to do what she can.  she has to try even when she doesn’t want to.   it’s only at the sound of her name,  of the hesitation in his words,  that stops her.   a woman on a mission can never be stopped,  but a girl with a damaged heart isn’t immune to the boy who made her think;  maybe it can be healed.      she keeps her head held high,   lips thinly pressed together as something akin to curiosity,  shock,  passes over her visage.   hope?   he says.     landon?   she answers.     

       it’s only later when rafael is asleep,  where they’re sat side by side in the suv,  that hope lets herself consider this reality.   this development.   the girl she was before,  the girl she buried with her parents, wasn’t suited for him.   they weren’t right fir each other,  then.   yet somehow,  in some cosmic twist of fate,  the universe has reconsidered;   now child,  it says,  now might be right.    god, she hopes it is.   as terrified as the prospect leaves her,  as betraying as that spark of hope in her chest is,  she’s been waiting a lifetime to find someone who’ll do what the rest couldn’t;   stay.  

             maybe he won’t.   maybe he isn’t the person she needs,  maybe the universe has gotten yet another thing wrong.   (  but maybe,  her traitorous heart argues,  maybe it hasn’t. )

[geminislegacy]

✧ penelope & hope & max

@willdoitforher

I would kill you. ✧ I would physically hurt you. ✧ I would attack you unprovoked. ✧ I would manipulate you. ✧ I dislike you. ✧ You annoy me. ✧ You scare me. ✧ You intimidate me. ✧ I hope I intimidate you. ✧ I pity you. ✧ You disgust me. ✧ I hate you. ✧ I’m indifferent toward you. ✧ I’d like to get to know you better. ✧   I’d like to spend more time with you. ✧ I’d like to be friends with you. ✧  I’m unsure what to think of you. ✧ I’m unsure how I feel about you. ✧ You are my friend. ✧ You are my best friend. ✧ You are my mentor. ✧ I look up to you. ✧ I respect you. ✧ You are my hero. ✧ You inspire me. ✧ You are my enemy. ✧ You make me happy. ✧ I want to protect you. ✧ I would fight by your side. ✧ I consider you an equal. ✧ I think you are beneath me. ✧ I think you are above me. ✧ I would lie for you. ✧ I would lie to you. ✧ I would sleep with you. ✧ I would sleep by your side. ✧ I would hug you. ✧ I would kiss you. ✧ You are family to me. ✧ I would die for you. ✧ I would kill for you. ✧ I would trust you with my life. ✧ I would trust you with my most precious belonging. ✧ I would trust you with a secret. ✧ I would trust you with my biggest / darkest secret. ✧ I love you (platonically). ✧ I love you (romantically).

@chosenlonely

I would kill you. ✧ I would physically hurt you. ✧ I would attack you unprovoked. ✧ I would manipulate you. ✧ I dislike you. ✧ You annoy me. ✧ You scare me. ✧ You intimidate me. ✧ I hope I intimidate you. ✧ I pity you. ✧ You disgust me. ✧ I hate you. ✧ I’m indifferent toward you. ✧ I’d like to get to know you better. ✧   I’d like to spend more time with you. ✧ I’d like to be friends with you. ✧  I’m unsure what to think of you. ✧ I’m unsure how I feel about you. ✧ You are my friend. ✧ You are my best friend. ✧ You are my mentor. ✧ I look up to you. ✧ I respect you. ✧ You are my hero. ✧ You inspire me. ✧ You are my enemy. ✧ You make me happy. ✧ I want to protect you. ✧ I would fight by your side. ✧ I consider you an equal. ✧ I think you are beneath me. ✧ I think you are above me. ✧ I would lie for you. ✧ I would lie to you. ✧ I would sleep with you. ✧ I would sleep by your side. ✧ I would hug you. ✧ I would kiss you. ✧ You are family to me. ✧ I would die for you. ✧ I would kill for you. ✧ I would trust you with my life. ✧ I would trust you with my most precious belonging. ✧ I would trust you with a secret. ✧ I would trust you with my biggest / darkest secret. ✧ I love you (platonically). ✧ I love you (romantically).

@earnyccrstripes

I would kill you. ✧ I would physically hurt you. ✧ I would attack you unprovoked. ✧ I would manipulate you. ✧ I dislike you. ✧ You annoy me. ✧ You scare me. ✧ You intimidate me. ✧ I hope I intimidate you. ✧ I pity you. ✧ You disgust me. ✧ I hate you. ✧ I’m indifferent toward you. ✧ I’d like to get to know you better. ✧   I’d like to spend more time with you. ✧ I’d like to be friends with you. ✧  I’m unsure what to think of you. ✧ I’m unsure how I feel about you. ✧ You are my friend. ✧ You are my best friend. ✧ You are my mentor. ✧ I look up to you. ✧ I respect you. ✧ You are my hero. ✧ You inspire me. ✧ You are my enemy. ✧ You make me happy. ✧ I want to protect you. ✧ I would fight by your side. ✧ I consider you an equal. ✧ I think you are beneath me. ✧ I think you are above me. ✧ I would lie for you. ✧ I would lie to you. ✧ I would sleep with you. ✧ I would sleep by your side. ✧ I would hug you. ✧ I would kiss you. ✧ You are family to me. ✧ I would die for you. ✧ I would kill for you. ✧ I would trust you with my life. ✧ I would trust you with my most precious belonging. ✧ I would trust you with a secret. ✧ I would trust you with my biggest / darkest secret. ✧ I love you (platonically). ✧ I love you (romantically).

[deathlyharlows]

❤ / max

ULTIMATE SHIP MEME - Send my character a ❤ and I'll fill in the form of what my character would do with yours. @earnyccrstripes

Affectionate; Holding hands | Cheek kisses | Hugs from behind | Cuddling | Hand kiss | PDA | Spooning | Shared baths | Whispers | Affectionate texts | Caressing | Stroke hair | No displays of affection

Sex; Shower sex | Wall sex | Neck bites (LMAO) | Oral | Morning sex | Drunk sex | Public sex | Backseat of car | BDSM | No sex

Dates; Picnic | Cinema | Restaurant | Sports game | Hike | Coffee | Museum | Club | Bar | Beach | No dates

Would my character…

Marry them? Yes | No Have sex on the first date? Yes | No Confess their attraction first? Yes | No Have children/adopt? Yes | No Die for your character? Yes | No Cheat on your character? Yes | No Lie to them? Yes | No Cuddle after sex? Yes | No

[ofindcmitability]

“I have to say, that certainly isn’t their color.” / kai

“Hey, Lizzie could pull off anything and everything.”

[rexinferorum]

Private Detective AU / jackson

                                        (  loosely  based  on  prodigal son  )                                                                                                          ft. @sitacross

         he’s  on  the  ground,  a  shotgun  in  his  face.    the  murderer  has  the  heads  of  his  victims  in  jars,  they  stare  back  at  him  like  the  heads  of  his  sister’s  barbie  dolls  used  to  whenever  he  wrenched  them  free.  it  had  been  a  scientific  experiment,  he’d  said  to  their  mother  when  she,  in  horror,  asked  him  why;  he  wanted  to  see  if  they’d  go  back  on  after.   he’d  always  enjoyed  hypothesis  and  experimentation,  in  seeing  why  and  how  things  reacted  the  way  they  did.   he  applied  those  same  curiosities  to  people,  though  he’d  become  a  profiler  rather  than  a  serial  killer  like  the  man  before  him.   two  different  paths,  same  curiosities.    that  curiosity  however  might  get  him  killed  today.     wait  for  back-up,  his  superior  had  said  on  the  radio  when  he  arrived  at  the  suspect’s  home,  don’t  go  in  there  alone,  avery.     he  hadn’t  listened  of  course.   they  only  had  once  chance  to  catch  the  man  off  guard  and  if  he  waited  ?   there  was  a  chance  he  could  bolt  –  ESCAPE  before  they  could  bring  him  to  justice.    he’s  just  about  talked  the  man  into  putting  his  gun  down,  into  going  quietly,  when  the  local  authorities  show  up  and  ruin  everything.  he  ends  up  splattered  in  blood,  the  murderer  DEAD.   there’ll  be  no  justice  served  today.   he  gets  to  his  feet,  stumbles  out  of  the  crime  scene,  and  punches  the  sheriff  before  leaving.

             he’s  summarily  dismissed  from  the  bureau.    conduct  unbecoming.   when  they  hand  him  his  pink  slip,  it’s  with  a  recommendation:   get  some  help.    jokes  on  them,  he  doesn’t  think  there’s  enough  help  in  the  world  to  get  his  head  on  straight.  he  knows  this,  accepts  it  even. 

     he  gets  the  call  a  few  days  later.   the  NYPD  need  help  tracking  down  their  latest  serial  killer.  “  i  don’t  know  if  i’m  your  guy.  ”   he  relays to  the  man  on  the  phone  —  a  man  who  was  there  for  him  over  the  years,  a  man  he  considered  family.    “  you  should  probably  know  i  was  fired  from  the  FBI  this  week.  ”   —  “  perfect,  that  means  you’re  available  to  consult.  ”    he  is,  so  he  goes.   

   he  steps  under  the  crime  scene  tape  when  he  arrives,  taking  a  loud  bite  from  his  apple.  it  crunches,  forces  the  other  detectives  to  turn  and  stare  at  him.  “  sorry.  ”    he  apologizes,  though  he  doesn’t  mean  it.   “  late  start.  ”    he  tosses  it  in  the  trash,  listens  to  the  captain  run  down  the  details  of  the  crime.    it’s  a  grisly  murder;   the  woman  was  strangled  with  a  piano  wire,  then  cut  into  pieces  which  were  arranged  into  a  very  specific  pattern.   it’s  a  pattern  he’s  seen  before  —  why  baird  silvermist  has  called  him  in  to  consult  on  this  case.    “  why  is  he  here  ?  ”   the  detective  —  claudia,  frowns  with  her  hands  on  her  hips.   “  we  can’t  just  have  a  civilian  traipsing  around  a  crime  scene,  baird.  ”      jacks  smiles;  bittersweet,  but  a  smile  nonetheless.   “  hi,  i’m  the  civilian.  ”   he  waves  a  hand  in  front  of  her  face.  he’s  never  been  one  to  avoid  an  awkward  interaction.   “  i  know  i  introduced  myself  as  jacks  avery  but  that’s  not  my  given  name.  ”     he  sighs,  takes  another  look  at  the  carnage  around  them.   “  it’s  jackson  elsey.   my  brother  is  vuras  elsey  …  the  pollock  killer.  ”       he  grimaces.   “  what  we  have  here  is  a  CLEAR  copycat.  ”

* * *

         it  isn’t  something  he  advertises  —  that  his  brother’s  a  serial  killer.   half-brother,  if  you  want  to  get  technical.  vuras  was  arrested  when  he  was  11  and  he’d  changed  his  name  as  an  adult  to  create  some  distance  between  the  horrors  of  his  past  and  his  future.   as  it  turns  out,  jacks  avery  wouldn’t  be  immune  to  the  pollock  killer’s  influence  either.    pollock,  because  he  spread  body  parts  out  in  such  a  way  it  had  once  been  described  as  art  of  the  most  macabre  threshold.   

      his  profile  is  coming  together  nicely.  the  copycat  is  someone  roughly  his  brother’s  age  or  older,  who  grew  up  hearing  or  reading  about  the  pollock  killer’s  reign  of  terror  on  the  news.   with  over  42  confirmed  kills,  vuras  elsey  is  known  as  one  of  the  most  notorious  serial  killers  in  modern  times.   his  arrest  was  made  even  more  shocking  given  he’d  been  a  registered  clinical  therapist.  someone  who  was  supposed  to  help  people,  who  was  supposed  to  be  good,  had  simply  used  his  position  to  get  insight  into  human  behaviors  that  he  couldn’t  quite  replicate  on  his  own.   as  a  psychopath,  the  only  emotions  he  ever  felt  were  ghosts  —   imprints  —  impressioned  from  those  around  him.   any  one  of  his  patients  could  be  the  culprit  and  with  bodies  piling  up,  jacks  knew  he  was  running  out  of  options.   if  he  could  do  something  to  get  more  insight,  to  get  a  lead,  and  he  did  nothing  ?    well  he  was  no  better  than  his  brother.   that  blood  would  be  on  his  hands.  

     so  it’s  with  shaking  hands  that  he  signs  himself  in  at  the  psychiatric  hospital,  pins  a  guest  badge  to  his  chest  and  follows  the  guard  to  v’s  cell.   it’s  a  maximum  security  hospital,  his  brother  only  permitted to  remain  there  so  long  as  he  refrains  from  starting  any  trouble.   his  lawyers  were  sharks  –  they’d  defended  him  to  the  letter,  narrowly  avoiding  the  death  penalty  in  favor  of  a  lifetime  stay  at  asphyxia  medical  center.    10  years  down  the  line  and  the  man  has  his  own  office;    connects  with  clients  via  skype,  or  a  closed  circuit  chat  system.   he  even  has  satellite  tv,  for  crying  out  loud.   (    v   has  friends  and  connections  in  high  places.  even  being  incarcerated  hasn’t  slowed  him  down  any.     the  guard  explains  all  this  on  their  walk.  )      it’s  been  7  years  since  jakson  last  visited.   7  years  since  he  last  looked  his  brother  in  the  eye. 

        he  remembers  that  gleam.    he  remembers  his  brother  looking  him  dead  in  the  eye,  smiling,  and  saying  words  that  haunt  him.   you  and  i,  we’re  the  same.  you’ll  see.  you  think  solving  murders,  helping  people,  will  atone  for  my  sins  but  what  about  yours?  i  see  your  darkness  and  it  matches  mine.   we’re  the  same.     

        they  reach  the  door  as  its  buzzed  open.  the  guard  steps  back,  motions  for  jacks  to  go  inside.   he  does,  taking  a  moment  to  collect  himself  before  walking  in.  it’s  …  not  what  he  expected.   there’s  a  bookshelf  against  the  wall  filled  with  reading  material,  a  filing  cabinet  beside  it  presumably  holding  his  patient  records.   the  man  himself  is  sitting  in  an  office  chair,  he  spins  around  to  face  him.   he’s  older  now  —   has  a  beard,  his  hair  longer  than  he  remembers  and  starting  to  grey.   he’s  in  his  40s  now,  but  his  face  hasn’t  aged  a  day.   he  still  looks  the  same  as  he  did  the  day  they’d  put  a  gun  to  his  head  and  forced  him  to  his  knees,  jacks  the  one  who’d  turned  him  in.   he’s  restrained  to  the  chair;   a  feat  jacks  finds  surprising.   it’s  easier  to  stare  at  the  restraints  than  the  man,  so  he  does.

         “  well,  well,  well.   i  wondered  when  i’d  see  you  again.  ”    his  brother  speaks  and  jacks  feels  shivers  running  down  his  spine.   he  doesn’t  acknowledge  the  comment,  instead  directing  a  nod  towards  the  restraints.   “  that’s  new.  ”       v  laughs.    “  just  a  precaution.   they’re  worried  we  might  have  a  repeat  of  what  happened  last  time.  ”    jacks  blinks,  confused.    v,  in  turn,  looks  pleased.   “  i  suppose  you  wouldn’t  remember.  you  told  me  you  wouldn’t  be  coming  back,  that  you  were  going  to  college  and  starting  a  ‘  new  life  ’  and  wouldn’t  be  coming  back.  ”   his  lips  turned  down.   “  so  i  asked  you  for  a  HUG  —   a  going  away  present,   and  you,  little  brother,  were  dumb  enough  to  believe  it.  ”    he  smiles,  all  teeth.   “  maybe  memory  loss  is  a  side-effect  of  hypoxia.  hmm.  ”     he  pulls  at  the  restraints  violently,  laughing  wildly  when  jacks  flinches  on  instinct.   shit.  he  was  supposed  to  have  the  upper  hand  here.   

      “  i  didn’t  come  here  to  talk  about  the  past.  ”   in  fact,  he’d  like  to  pretend  it  never  existed  to  begin  with.   “  i  came  here  to  talk  about  my  case.   mr.  elsey,  on  behalf  of  the  NYPD,  i’m  here  to  —  ”      v’s  eyes  light  up.    “  oh,  i  know  all  about  your  case,  jackson.   i  saw  it  on  the  news.   the  pollock  copycat   …  not  the  most  original  name,  but  then  again  our  sister  was  always  more  beauty  than  brains.  ”      jack’s  stomach  lurches.   their  sister  had  been  6  when  v  was  arrested,  he’d  hoped  that  v  would  have  failed  to  recognize  her  now  as  an  adult.   maybe  it  shouldn’t  surprise  him  that  he  does.   for  someone  so  disconnected,  he  sure  knows  enough  about  what’s  been  going  on.    “  you  think  i  might  know  something  about  your  killer.   or  maybe  you  think  i  did  it.   i’m  good  but  even  i  have  my  limits.  ”   he  smirks.  “  i’m  a  little  TIED  UP.  ”    the  restraints  get  another  pull.      “  hate  to  disappoint,  but  this  one’s  not  on  me.  ”

         —    “  but  you  know  who  it  is.  ”     this  isn’t  a  question.   he  observes  the  way  v’s  shoulders  tense,  how  his  eyes  flit  to  the  filing  case  every  so  often.   these  are  tells  that  give  him  away,  lead  him  to  believe  that  v  knows  more  than  he’s  saying.   “   we’re  working  on  a  profile.   the  killer  is  male,  probably  struggles  with  mental  illness,  and  is  looking  for  purpose  with  these  kills.  they  aren’t  personal  …  none  of  the  victims  have  anything  in  common,  minus  one  thing;   the  clue  that  brought  him  here  in  the  first  place.   “  each  were  murdered  in  the  exact  style  you  adopted.  ”   he  moves  to  the  filing  case,  watches  v’s  eyes  follow  him.   “  which  means  they’ve  studied  you,  mr.  elsey.   very  closely.  ”   —  “  mr.  elsey.  ”    v  looks  amused.   “  let’s  not  play  coy,  jackson.    you  can  call  me  v.    we  are  family.  ”      jacks  doesn’t  rise  to  the  dig,  continues.   “  …  which  leads  us  to  believe  that  the  killer  could  have  been  a  patient  of  yours.  ”    finally  he  looks  back  at  v,  waits  patiently  for  the  man’s  reaction.   he  simply  shrugs,  leaning  back  in   his  chair.  it’s  evident  he  won’t  be  getting  any  information  from  him  and  without  a  warrant,  he  can’t  search  the  files  himself.    “  fine.  that’ll  be  all,  mr.  elsey.  ”   he  turns  to  go;    it’s  a  calculated  risk,  leaving,  but  if  he  knows  his  brother  he  knows  that  fear  of  never  seeing  him  again  —  never  getting  the  opportunity  to  mess  with  him  —  will  be  enough  to  stop  him.    “  WAIT.  ”       he’s  right.   

               v  gives  him  the  information  he’s  looking  for.   the  information  leads  to  a  half  brother,  one  that  jacks  wasn’t  even  aware  had  existed.    of  course  it’s  a  family  member;   there  isn’t  a  sane  one  of  them  in  the  bunch.    they  use  the  information  in  the  file  to  track  down  the  brother.   he  claims  he’s  innocent,  claims  he  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  murders,  but  they  find  another  victim  in  his  attic  and  he  goes  down  for  them  all.   he’s  found  guilty,  sentenced  to  LIFE.     it’s  only  when  the  murders  resume  again  six  months  later  does  he  realize  that  v  played  him.   he  led  him  to  the  wrong  culprit  and  hid  the  real  murderer  from  him.    it  takes  them  nearly  a  year  to  track  down  the  true  murderer  —   v’s  boyfriend,  aster  silvermist  …  the  NYPD  captain’s  son.       

[frcmashes]

Roommate AU / penelope ( i look forward to literally creasing myself with laughter )

          it all starts with a mistake. when he applies to go to salvatore college, it’s on a whim.  it’s not like he has any money, he really only applies because he’s drunk and rafael is talking about being roommates, about being family.    (   it had sounded nice.  family.  he has, admittedly, been looking for the place he fits.  maybe this is it.   )     so he fills out the application,  submits it online,  and promptly forgets.    when the acceptance package comes,  along with a scholarship he can’t believe he qualifies for,  he accepts with trepidation. 

       when moving day comes,  he assumes incorrectly that he’ll be rooming with rafael.  they’d requested it months earlier but it’s fine.  it’s fine.  he’s here,  he’ll still see him all the time, and it’s probably good he extends his social circle beyond …well, 2.   it’s a little weird that his roommate’s name is penelope but it is 2030,  people are pretty progressive.   it also might be a name his roommate doesn’t use anymore,  so he reminds himself not to use it unless they do.    when he finds his hall,  the confusion starts to mount.   this.. looks like it’s not a co-ed floor.   as far as he sees, he’s the only guy in sight.  huh.   when he turns the corner and checks his paperwork for dorm assignments, he figures out why.    drunk landon had checked ‘female’ under his gender.   oh shit.     the logical thing would be to go to the admissions office,  explain the blunder,  and get put somewhere else .. but he’s already lugged his toaster in from the car and it’s heavy.  selfishly,  he doesn’t want to have to go through it all over again.  he’ll test his luck;   maybe penelope park is progressive enough not to care  ?

          he nudges the door open with his foot, hopping through awkwardly toaster forward.  he nearly bumps into her,  fumbling with the toaster comically as it threatens to crash to the ground.  he catches it,  just barely.  it’s a close call.   “ hi. “   it’s said awkwardly,  the girl staring at him like he has two heads.  under the heat of her gaze, he almost believes he might.   “ so, uh, funny story… “   so he launches into the story;   drunk landon,  toaster fatigue,  all the highlights.  when he’s done,  she simply squints.     her head tilts,  hand cocked on her side. 

              “  a question:   were you dropped on your head  as a child  ?  “