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Golden Peacock Inbox & Open Season App

6♥ [SIX of HEARTS]
UN: pinocchio
AUDIO ✧ VIDEO ✧ TEXT ✧ ACTION


20 / male / unknown / 6♥
Details
The strong and silent type who doesn't like to brag! Or say much of anything. I'm sure this delicious snack has lots to say once you break through his dashingly wooden and icy exterior!
He says he's a stalker -- not that we judge, honey! We all have our vices!
Small correction, guys, gals, and nonbinary pals. A Stalker is a vocation, something about mercenary work.
This cherry boy is single and ready to mingle!
He plays the piano and says he's good with a sword. He even expressed interest in finding a few like-minded sparring partners! You know that that means, he's great with his hands and one of them is! Metal! A! F!
(This space, perhaps intentionally, has been left blank.)
(No information. Perhaps the original drafter of this post abandoned it halfway through.)
NO ANSWER GIVEN
.02 CLOWNS OR MIMES
NO ANSWER GIVEN
.03 SHOWER OR BATH
NO ANSWER GIVEN
.04 PIRATES OR NINJAS
NO ANSWER GIVEN
.05 TITS OR ASS
NO ANSWER GIVEN
.06 COFFEE OR TEA
NO ANSWER GIVEN
.07 SPICY OR SWEET
NO ANSWER GIVEN
.08 SUMMER OR WINTER
NO ANSWER GIVEN
.09 LEATHER OR LACE
AN ANSWER! BOTH.
10. ROUGH SEX OR GENTLE SEX
NO ANSWER GIVEN
INFP-T

so sorry for the delay on this!
and then there's... the tail. it speaks for him more than words do, swaying vigorously; for a man so polished and proper, cloud found there was something painfully earnest in how he emoted. it moves him ever so slightly, softening the features of his face. cloud's own tail curls slightly, curious as his head peers forward -- eyes quite blatantly drawing in the sight of his ears. ]
Suits you. [ might be a weird thing to say, but... the words come out no less. ] You... look good. I mean-- you always do, but...
[ a silence, taut with tension. ]
I'm just saying that you make it work. [ a hand travels up to his own ears, scratching idly at the fur. ] Was on my way back to my room. Been trying to avoid going out; kind of a shitshow right now.
[ and then-- for a reason he can't entirely pinpoint, an impulse rises to the surface, overwhelming the shame and pride so typically hard wired into him: ]
Do you... wanna come back to my place? [ ... ] ....Not for anything weird, just thought we could... I dunno. Talk? Beats going back to your place, right?
[ and then, as warmth dusts his cheeks, voice softer and more pliable than usual: ]
...Would be nice to spend some time with you.
[ what's gotten into him? ]