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simp999 · 1 year

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Bloopers/Notes from "A New Home!"

☆I don't have anything too silly until ch. 15 :(

Ch. 1, Where am I?:

☆I started this fic at like, 2 am, just on complete impulse. Everything here just summoned itself from my 2 am brainrot.

☆I didn't really chat this chapter out with any friends, so nothing too silly.

Ch. 2, Meeting New People?:

☆I was planning on making reader more of a Simp, but I talked to my friends and we decided against it, since it would be difficult for reader to get along with characters more genuinely.

☆At the end of the chapter, "If I go to sleep here, will I wake back up in the real world?...", I was thinking of just posting chapter 3 where it said: You wake up, story over. The end.

Ch. 3, We are the Army.:

☆Army was an octoling since the beginning! You can see that in the banner. The background is made up of octopi instead of squids, and you can see a bit of a tentacle.

Ch. 4, If memory serves wrong...:

☆Bro I suck at writing flirty stuff. End me now, Aloha's difficult for me to write

☆The "nothin' personal, kid", was a total reference, and I plan on adding many more. I'm going to try my best to add some iconic vines that still suit the scene.

Ch. 5, Descisions, decisions.:

☆On the other hand, I looove drawing aloha! He's so cute and silly! I like to draw his tentacles very round and bubbly and man, his eyes are so pretty!

☆This was the chapter that made me start thinking about giving reader teammates, mostly because they needed someone other than a bench to sleep.

Ch. 6, Hoooow Anoooying.:

☆mASK MY BELOVED

☆Can you tell he's my favorite?

☆I wanted to make him a little silly, giving him more of a personality. He can't be scary all the time, I really do think part of it is an act.

☆Another anime reference: the lens of his gasmask shining, just like in an anime.

Ch. 7, SUB WEAPON HELL!:

☆I was torn between what to do for the banner. I already used Mask with his mask on for chapter 6, and I planned on using his maskless version for what's now chapter 13. But then I remembered another one of my favorite boyos, Desi! I know he isn't featured too much in this chapter, and I'm sorry, but I needed something!

☆Anyways, I know this entire battle by heart. I know all of Mask's voice lines. Save me.

☆I try my best to not show bias in my fics, but I will relentlessly show it outside of em'.

☆Ugh, can't wait for team cyan moments fr

Ch. 8, Newfound Family.:

☆THE GUYS FR

☆I was stuck between just giving reader nameless teammates, incase ya'll already had your own ocs in mind of something, but I HATE nameless characters. And characters that don't have a personality. I figured that I'd already have to give them personalities, so why not go all in.

☆Soooo, I threw in my beloved OCs! I've had these guys around for YEARS, so I know them and their personalities like the back of my hand, which makes writing for them super easy and fun!

☆bro they look so cursed with splatoon 1 hairstyles to me. I didn't have the heart to snatch their iconic hair, so ignore that.

LOOK AT HIM!! ITS NOT EVEN MILO ANYMORE HE'S JUST MARCUS SMH.

Ch. 9, Shopping Spree!:

☆I actually wrote this and the last chapter at 1 am by accident. I was like oho let me write a few notes down for tomorrow so I don't forget. But here we are 2k words later.

☆After seeing that the next day, I realised that the squad tm would take up 2 chapters total. There's 3 of them. So then I had to figure out how to do the banners. I worked it out, though!

☆Tasha's hair's longer I swear, it just didn't fit on the banner smh

☆Damn she and skull look a lot alike, huh

☆L

Ch. 10, Skull's Territory.:

☆I knew I couldn't have reader simp, but that doesn't mean I can't have some simpery!! So I have Milo, Leo and Tasha to do it!! They get to express my true emotions <3

Ch. 11, A Misunderstanding?:

☆sTEAAAALTH!!! <3333

☆My sweet boy

☆So the poll for background characters was mostly for him ngl

☆THOSE DAMN GOGGLES WERE SUCH A PAIN IN THE ASS TO SHADE WAAAAH

☆I also may have colored them green by accident the first time and had to start over.

☆I reaaaally hate making characters like Rider go OOC, but I need the story to continue! I'm sorryyyy

Ch. 12, Getting Too Comfortable.:

☆FINALLY WE'RE GETTING SOMEWHERE UGH

☆Also, blushy rider. ♡♡

☆He wants that battle, dude

Ch. 13, Player Two?:

☆aaaAAAA MAAASK

☆May have made a 9 hour mask playlist to write to.

☆Ahem.

☆I was planning on going in official meeting order for these uhh "getting closer with the S4", (Rider, army, aloha, mask, skull.) but my clear bias for Mask got me to write for him first.

☆I struggled to choose which song, but the idea came to me because I learned all the lyrics to Kick Back(chainsaw man), not too long ago. But I figured I'd just go with one of the most well known series/openings.

☆Didn't make the cut:

-Was gonna have reader and Mask walk in the rain together. That's why reader grabbed Milo's umbrella, cause it was the biggest one.

-c'mon, that would have been cute

Ch. 14, ...You Didn't See that.:

☆I was planning this since the start to be honest. Not exactly this scenario, but I knew I wanted to throw this headcannon in there.

☆After seeing how much love my fic was getting, I was almost going to abandon the idea, afraid that my readers wouldn't like it, and leave.

☆Jeebus those tentacles took me way too long to draw.

Figuring out what to do for Army's meetup+scrapped ideas:

Ch. 15, Sweetheart.:

☆I only made it to 1k words with Skull's part, he really doesn't talk a lot so it's hard to fill up space.

☆Soooooo

☆You guys asked for it: Avi time!

☆Now finally, here's some of the discord chats I had with my friends. Plans for story along with memes. Blanked out hints for the next chapter.:

Ch. 16, An Unexpected Meetup.:

☆I completely winged it. I knew I wanted like- a dummy kinda where we'd see all the S4 at once

☆Sorry for minimal aloha time, we got him earlier in the series though! (Bias game strong, he's not my favorite s4 member :( )

☆I'll try for more aloha time soon I'm sorry

☆The kind of rivalry/jeasoulsy between them wasn't planned and I kinda don't like it, but it is canon that they don't really like eachother so

☆Eh

Ch. 17: Not Much of a Choice, Huh?

☆Ughhh this feels like a dating sim now and I hate it

☆But characters catching feelings ♡♡♡

☆Not to figure out how they deal with them and how readers gonna figure that out

☆Wah

Ch. 18: Challengers Approach!

☆ oOoo they catchin' feelings!!!

Ch. 19: The Freshest Squid on the Block!

☆ YOOOOO LEO FANBOY!?!?!

☆ Hehe, we love making Leo happy

☆ Ugh, Emperor. I was not looking forward to writing him. I personally don't have him as a favorite, I was never able to like his kingly attitude. (I looove his design as somebody who draws nd does character design, though! Well made character.) Buuut...(see ch. 21)

Ch. 20: The Absolute King.

☆Yesss! Reader showing more emotion!!

☆Someone's gettin' angyyy

☆Ohoho does this count as angst? Berly, but I'm enjoying it

☆ Did you guys know that I half specialise in angst? Yeah enjoy that info

Ch. 21: A Crushing Defeat.

☆ Making you guys hate him off the bat is a lot dunner to write! He was shitty and mean in the first bit where he was shown anyways, so suffer! He'll have to go through some character development eventually, but until then, he's your most despised rival mwahaha

☆I hope the wat I write him makes you wanna deck him in the face :)

Ch. 22: It Only Gets Tougher, I Promise

☆ ... what no, what makes you think mask is my favorite. I show no bias ever. (How many times have I said that, now?)

#x reader #fanfic #splatoon manga #splatoon manga x reader #splatoon #splatoon 2 #splatoon 3 #splatoon manga rider #splatoon manga mask #splatoon manga aloha #splatoon manga army #bloopers #notes

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whimsicaldragonette · 2 years

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ARC Review: Not Good for Maidens by Tori Bovalino

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Publication Date: June 14, 2022

Synopsis:

Salem’s Lot meets The Darkest Part of the Forest in this horror-fantasy retelling of Christina Rossetti’s “Goblin Market.” Lou never believed in superstitions or magic--until her teenage aunt Neela is kidnapped to the goblin market. The market is a place Lou has only read about--twisted streets, offerings of sweet fruits and incredible jewels. Everything--from the food and wares, to the goblins themselves--is a haunting temptation for any human who manages to find their way in. Determined to save Neela, Lou learns songs and spells and tricks that will help her navigate this dangerous world and slip past a goblin's defenses--but she only has three days to find Neela before the market disappears and her aunt becomes one of them forever. If she isn't careful, the market might just end up claiming her too.

My Rating: ★★★★★

***My Review below the cut.

My Review:

*edit: I should add that of all the books I read this year this one stuck with me more than I expected and I still find myself thinking about it 7 months (and dozens of books) later. I'm raising the rating to 5 stars based on that alone.

----

I have mixed feelings about this book. On the one hand, I really liked it. The story (parts of it at least) was compelling and some of the characters really drew me in. And I am 100% here for May and Atra's star-crossed sapphic love story. On the other, it was closer to horror than I normally choose to read and was bloodier and more grotesque than I usually like. And some of the characters were like blank walls.

I'm a sucker for goblin market stories, and this was probably the most horror-adjacent one I've read. In that regard, it shaded towards being a bit too much for me. I was barely able to handle the body horror, though I put the book aside several times while reading because I kept thinking it would get to be just that tiny bit more and I wouldn't be able to handle it. It also focused on the grotesque and bloody side of the goblin market, rather than the glittery tempting side you usually see in stories. There again, it was almost (but not quite) too much for me.

I was immediately sucked in to May and Atra's story. They were compelling and intriguing and I would have loved the book more if it had been solely about them. The problem was that their chapters (18 years in the past) alternated with present-day Lou's chapters, and Lou just wasn't compelling as a protagonist. I never got a sense of her personality at all. I know that she's asexual and that she doesn't feel like she belongs anywhere, but when I try to picture her I draw a complete blank. Laura (her mother), too, is a mystery, even though we see her both in present-day and 18 years in the past. But in the present we see her though Lou's eyes, and in the past we see her through May's, and that could be why she doesn't feel complete. Neela isn't on page enough to really get a sense of her.

In the end I stuck around through Lou's chapters just to get back to May and Atra. If the book had been solely May and Atra's story, I probably would have devoured it rather than putting it down over and over.

Also, mind those trigger warnings. There is a LOT of blood, gore, and body horror. Like, a lot.

The narration is really well done and the character voices are consistent and believable. I also really enjoyed the narrator's voice. It made for an excellent listening experience.

*Thanks to NetGalley and Recorded Books for providing an audio arc for review.

#tori bovalino #not good for maidens #goblin market #netgalley #shilo reads #arc review

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thebadchoicemachine · 2 years

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This is literally the majority of the questions but I’m really curious so!!

1. - How would you describe your style? cartoony nonsensical and--not to be pretentious--whimsical.

2. What’s your favorite thing about your style? - I like being able to effectively make weird stuff!

3. What’s your least favorite thing about your style? - Making real things is... not my strong suit. That’s the thing about honing skills in imagination stuff, when you want to do realistic things you don’t have the same skills built up.

4. Favorite thing to draw? - Random shapes into scenes and Creatures.

5. Least favorite thing to draw - perspectives and human feet.

6. Warm colors or cold colors - Oh that’s hard. For real life I’d say cold but for drawing I think I like using warm colors better.

7. Show us a WIP -

8 - What is the most/least fun part of your process? - Most fun is right after I had an idea and am working properly on it or when I’m coloring up layer by layer. Least is defiantly shading/clothe textures. Devil truly is in the details.

9. - Show us a finished piece alongside the original sketch - Here’s Thia’s musical one just because they’re the ones whose I have sketches saved close by.

12. Show us an old drawing - hooo boy. lemme look for one

here’s V1P-3r from about 4 years ago? (holy fuck time..) There’s a meaning for her name but I forgot. Something like: Vanessa, 1st of something starting with P, 3rd regiment). She’s a spy. I’m actually still really proud of the shading on this one.

21. Something you’d like to improve on - Memory and spelling. talking with the rest of us.

22. What inspires you? - weird but not bad feelings. Combinations. Inverting. Subversion. Music a lot as well. Words that get suck in my head.

23. What’s something you hope people notice when looking at your art? - Different for each art piece. I usually had some kind of especially detailed part I hope people appreciate. If it’s original, then the way I design my creatures. It’s the most fun part,

#woah how hlong as this been in my drafts\#truce answers an ask

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smileymoth · 2 months

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7, 8, 14

7. Who are some artists that have inspired you? This isn't a difficult question but it's hard to like... describe why someone inspires me. I think the 1 artist that has sort of guided me to find my art style is definitely godlyDescentUFO they mostly post on deviantart/twt of which i don't really use anymore. I still think about their art a lot, and often. The colour palettes they use and the composition and body language of the characters drawn... It's just special to me. I want to replicate it. One day. Again I feel like Ive been too sucked into fandom these past few years to really do what i want to but I'll... I'll explain that later .But yeah they've been my favourite artist ever since I found them. I feel like if you just go thru their gallery you can tell why I like them

Then there's clickbaitcowboy . He's on tumblr go give them a follow. he makes godly oc illustrations and his painting skills are so... so so so so AAHHH. Im in love fr I can't explain it. The shading makes me go insane and the way he draws out anatomy and muscles and fat and just bodies in general... god

supppe, another person who is on tumblr whose colour paletes bring me joy. He makes comics and his art style is super pleasing to the eye

And from current fandom I think everyone can agree that panidanya and wszczebrzyszynie are incredible artists . Panidanyas anatomy and painting skills kill me every time and wszczebrzyszynie has this really nostalgic(?) art style that my heart can get behind. It creates art with such passion and love, you know, you can't deny that. if you look at its art you just know

Other than that the main inspiration i guess comes from my friends, from my mutuals' art. It doesn't have to be something big. It can be as simple as a small detail in someones clothing or the facial expressions. God this reminds me I miss my friends art. Evan you need to make more art I miss you

8. How would you describe your art style?

Matured deviantart emo semirealism. I dont think semi realism really fits my style bc it still feels too cartoony to me. I dont think my art style is really all that well developed idk it lacks identity to me but Im also hyper critical of my art

14. Do you prefer to make fan content or original content? This is a tricky goddamn question I thought about this for like 5 minutes and now Im even more confused. I am an oc artist first. I don't like "original" art in the sense of those paintings that just exist in a vacuum with no character stories behind them. I want something you can follow, you know. I want there to be some form of a story. which i guess is my downfall sometimes. When i draw fandom art i feel like they're also my ocs. esp bc its... its mcyt... You kind of have to make it into your oc because you have 16x16 pixel canvas and someones 2010 kakashi skin to work with.

On the other hand, bc i'm an oc artist, Im making 'fan content' of my ocs. Technically. Do yuo follow. So me drawing my babyboy Daniel 400+ times in a decade is kind of like fan content but Im the only fan... So whats original content and whats fan content.

I do feel like being so intertwined in fandom content may have hindered my art development a little bit, since I completely stopped drawing my ocs for a little while. I didn't get to explore their lives through art as much as I would've wanted to. I haven't been drawing as many backgrounds because I do enjoy mostly drawing interiors and there's not much interiors to talk about when it comes to mcyt... And ive also just been lacking motivation for it.

All in all i think i enjoy "original" art more, because it gives me more, it gives more to my heart. It's not that i don't enjoy drawing mcyt, but I think I should maybe try to draw mcyt in a more personal? matter? Without too much fandomification? I want to make more art that has "meaning" per say, with backgrounds, a story behind them. (this is just for me and what i want to get out of art, this doesn't apply to anyone else. it's such a slippery slope bc i know saying these things may feel hurtful to others but i am only talking about myself.... okay T_T) I dont know if any of this makes sense. I'm always lost in my direction with art and going to art school didn't make it any better <3

I do think that because I've been going thru a lot of personal warfare in the past 3 years, fandom HAS helped me in the sense that it helps me with creativity, since i have been severely lacking in creative thinking, I just struggle with it nowadays, so if I can draw ethubs making out under a tree bc they did so in episode 402 out of season 194 then so be it, at least it'll help me create

#writing my inspirations out made me tear up actually. aufhuhdfhu . why am iso sad now #franny im so sorry this entire thing is so depressing to read ToT ily tho thank u for asking me stuff #ask game #asks

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vhsthe1950s · 3 years

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“♬ The Huge Beast Of The Town. With Her Huge Nose That Is Brown ♬”

“ ♬ She Does No Harm, No Reason To Alarm ♬ “

#7 years of drawings and my shading still sucks #dhmis #Maxwell Patches #Patch's Dreams #dhmis duck #Mr. Duck #Drawing #digital drawing

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uwuwriting · 3 years

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Wearing his jersey w/ Daichi, Kageyama and Osamu

Request: hi!! can i req the ‘wearing their jersey’ with daichi kags and osamu plss! i loved the one u wrote for kuroo akaashi and ushi. -anonymous

Okay I haven’t written for my Haikyuu babies for quite some time and that sucks. Everyday is Haikyuu day and I simp for a different character every hour of the day lmao. Although my new found obsession with Nanami is taking up most of my time. Oh well guess he’ll have to share my spare time with one of the Haikyuu boys every time. Love ya. 💖💖💖

masterlist II rules

warnings: fluff, I don’t think there are any warnings for this one.

Sawamura Daichi

-Captain Daichi thirst is active 24/7 lmao.

-He is used to you taking his clothes.

-From hoodies, to t-shirts to his sweatpants, it has become a regular occurrence in your relationship.

-He loves seeing you in his clothes.

-They are always too big on your body, his hoodies almost reaching your knees and it makes his heart go doki doki.

-He just wants to hug you to his chest and never let go.

-He has given you one of his t-shirts to wear to sleep cuz he loves the idea of you having a little part of him with you even if it's just a shirt.

-You two were having a sleepover before one of his major games and of course you were helping him unwind.

-You helped him make his duffle bag and double check for his knee pads, gave him a massage for his sore muscles after a long week of non stop practices and finally forced him to take a self care evening after he asked you to help him practice with his receives.

-While putting on his face mask you were going on about something random when you noticed the furrow of his brows.

- “Everything is gonna be fine baby, you’ll see. You and the boys have practiced really hard for this match and you;ll make it I know you will.”

-Smiling up at you he gave you a peck on the lips, careful not to smudge your own face mask in the process.

- “I know or at least I think I do. I just feel off knowing you won’t be there.”

-Oh that’s right….You weren’t sure you would make it in time to catch the beginning of the match due to a family obligation but you were certain you would get to see the later half of the game.

-Though Daichi didn’t have to know that yet.

-Kissing him again you reassured him that the team didn’t need you to be there to wipe the floor with the other team’s ass, that he didn’t need you there.

-The pout on his lips said otherwise though but he didn’t push it.

-When the time came for the match to begin, he kept glancing at the stands mainly out of habit but also because he half expected you to make it on time.

-No such luck though, you were nowhere to be seen.

- “Oi Daichi focus!!”

-Suga nearly karate chopped him in the stomach when he didn’t stop looking for you.

-Everyone could see that their captain was a little out of it but they chose to keep quiet.

-You on the other hand, were sprinting through the streets of Miyagi to get to your boyfriend’s game as fast as possible, his jersey spurring you forward as you pounded down the school’s courtyard.

-In a flash you were in your regular seat in the very front of the bleachers, chest rising and falling frantically as you tried to catch your breath.

-You took off your jacket and rushed to the railing, tracing the ball with your eyes as the opposing team spiked it right into your boyfriend’s arms.

- “GO DAI!!”

-His eyes found you immediately, quickly shooting down to your chest where the number 1 of his dark jersey rested proudly flushing at the sight.

-The game was over rather quickly after that.

-Daichi was in top form, his receives being immaculate while his serves were on point.

-The first thing he did when he walked out of the lockers was to hug you, hug you so close and tight you could barely breath as he thanked you for coming.

- “You r-really thought I w-would miss this???”

- “........Baby I can’t b-breath.”

Kageyama Tobio

-Flustered babyyyy.

-He will never get used to seeing you in his clothes.

-You have worn his hoodies before and he has had a heart attack every time.

-It reached a point where you thought that he hated seeing you in them and you stopped asking for his hoodies or jackets even if you were cold.

-That caused the frown on his face to deepen and a very shy confession that he indeed loved seeing you in his clothes.

-Ever since that day you always have at least one of his hoodies in your closet.

-Now your relationship is a secret.

-Considering who his teammates are, you both agreed that it would be wise to keep your relationship under wraps, neither of you want to go through their reaction in this lifetime at least.

-Keeping that in mind, you never wore his clothes out in public so you wouldn’t draw unwanted attention to you.

-You go to all his games of course, being his best friend before becoming his girlfriend does that to a person, plus he had convinced you to become a manager alongside Yachi.

-So even if you wanted to skip a game you couldn’t.

-Now that you think of it this must have been part of his plan since now he can be near you all the time.

-You couldn’t bring yourself to be even remotely mad at him, he was just too cute.

-You were so proud of your boys for making it to nationals that you decided to hype them up a bit.

-Convincing both Yachi and Kiyoko you stole three jerseys from the team while they were changing before you took your seats in the sidelines.

-Many would think that you wearing Kageyama’s jersey was a mere coincidence.

-You chose him because he is your best friend, not because something else was going on.

-Sugawara and Tsukishima aren’t most people and you soon found yourself in some hot water with those two.

-Apart from the fact that Kageyama couldn’t look your way without having a stroke, he whipped the floor with the other team, gasps and applause filling the stadium every time he dunked the ball on the other side of the court.

-It got to the point where the other less observant member of the team started noticing the significant difference in his attitude.

- “Kageyama why are you playing so aggressively the ball keeps going like WOOSH and BAM without me even hitting it.”

-Poor boy almost chocked on his water at Hinata’s words and when you went to help him he turned 50 shades of red in a matter of 0.0005 seconds.

-This whole charade ended with your relationship being exposed after Noya begged you to wear his jersey and Tobio wasn’t having it, three nosebleeds and a whole lot of teasing.

-He moved to your room that night despite the fact that the third years kept teasing him about being safe and wrapping it before tapping it.

-Held a small grudge for like five minutes.

Miya Osamu

-Love of my life number 20.

-The superior twin and this will make it evident.

-Atsumu is always being a little shit about your relationship and how you don’t look like a couple cuz you don’t make out in the hallways all the time.

-Em sir excuse you!

-Anyways, you know to ignore him at this point figuring that he’ll get tired and stop but no such luck; he irritates Osamu to no end resulting in one of them needing bandages at the end of practice.

-PDA is not something you are both comfortable with and you prefer small reassuring touches throughout the day.

-This has led to many believing that you two aren’t a couple just like Atsumu says and other people have confessed to you or asked you out WHILE Osamu is with you.

-It doesn’t bother him much since he trusts you but it still tugs at his insecurities.

-And because of those insecurities you get a new wardrobe.

-Literally a whole ass new clothing line made by none other than Osamu Miya himself.

-What is in this new clothing line you ask?

-Osamu’s hoodies and shirts in general.

-Every time he stops by your house he brings a new item of clothing with him, something that he has worn recently and others have seen just to get his message across.

-You aren’t complaining, you love wearing his clothes, they are always so big and they completely swallow you plus they smell like him.

-It’s like you have him with you.

-Now Osamu might not show it often but volleyball stresses him out, like a lot.

-It means the world to his brother and despite their fights and bickering, he loves seeing him happy and if that means he has to play the sport like his life depends on it so be it.

-Osamu would do anything for Atsumu.

-So you can understand the pressure he is under as a spiker.

-His distress is you basically and you give him a small pep talk right before he enters the court.

-Imagine his surprise and pure childish glee when he saw you making your way to him wearing his jersey.

-It reached just above your knee and it made you look so cute he wanted to bottle you up and keep you forever.

-Atsumu and Suna could be heard in the background teasing the living shit out of Osamu who remained frozen in place, the whole stadium turning into white noise as the only thing in his view, the only thing that mattered in that moment, was you.

-He noticed your glare as you told his brother off, saw the way you played with the hem of his jersey as you walked near him and the furrow of your brows when he didn’t answer your calls.

-Wordlessly he enveloped you in a tight hug, picking you off your feet and twirling you around a little bit much to the dismay of his fanbase in the stands.

- “Hi.” “Hey ‘Samu”

- “Whatcha wearin?”

- “Oh this old thing? I figured you might need the motivation.”

- *cue kissing assault*

TAG TEAM AY:

Arcana-Fan-at The @-FIC @angelwritings @axerrri @reinyrei @dnarez @ storage11037 @ezoyscorner @letscheereachotheron @ wolfkid22 @ Dark-Thoughts-and-Red-Roses @threeamwriting @ysatrap @yashinosakura @yongboxerrr @meena-in-a-nutshell

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lizbotw · 3 years

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it’s only sharing a disgustingly sweet milkshake at the local college town diner after both of your evening classes that suna graciously provides the answers to the math homework.

the spongy pencil eraser is easy for you to sink your teeth into as you puzzle over his handwriting. “you know,” you mumble around the nib, trying to figure out if that’s a 5 or a 6, “i never know why you do this to me every week.” this time the drink with two plastic straws floating in an unhealthy heaping of whip cream is a syrupy strawberry flavor.

rintarou tips forward to sip at one of them and in your peripheral, chunky pink-coated fruit pieces travel up the clear tube and disappear between his lips. he releases the straw with an annoying ah that makes you frown, even if you weren’t concentrating in the first place. “aw, don’t tell me you don’t like hanging out with me.” he feigns hurt.

a well placed sip of your own allows you to avoid having to answer that—you have a personal rule of never being sappy in the presence of calculus. if you didn’t like him, suna knows you wouldn’t be hanging out with him—there are just some things you can’t do, even if it’s for the sake of your grade. none of this has to be said out loud of course, but he decides to be annoying and ask anyway.

actually—well... maybe hanging out is... not exactly how this appears to bystanders.

sharing a drink like this, you two probably look more like a couple on a (terribly cheap) afternoon date, rather than two broke college students that split meals to save money and believe that sharing answers for homework isn’t cheating, it’s collaboration.

ha, as if it would ever be different—things like the former never come true. maybe in movies, but that’s about where the line is drawn.

as if he knows what you’re thinking, suna raises an eyebrow at you over the glass, a smile playing on his lips—the same stupid look he always gives you. it feels particularly worse this evening.

it’s hard to avoid eye contact with him mere inches away, but you manage when a car painted a very interesting shade of red rumbles past the fingerprint covered window. you’re grateful for the distraction.

the subject changes when you realize suna has terrible taste when it comes to ordering milkshakes. “what flavor is this?” you spit out the word as though the very concept of calling this a real flavor is more disgusting than the drink itself, smacking your lips and screwing up your face at the excessively saccharine, artificial strawberry aftertaste.

this is no ordinary strawberry milkshake. no, this is a so-bad-only-suna-rintarou-would-order-something-this-horrible-(and-not-necessarily-on-purpose-either) strawberry milkshake.

“valentine’s valor,” he states matter-of-factly like those words mean anything to you. you stare at him until he elaborates. “their valentine’s special,” he clarifies and is gifted with a sarcastic thumbs-up from you in thanks—it is pointedly ignored and suna slings an arm over back of his seat. “dunno the exact flavor though. forgot.”

it tastes like the embodiment of pink, you decide. valentine’s valor. what a stupid name. there are a million and one better words that start with v... you can name at least five with a little thinking. you should ask them to hire you as part of their marketing team, you decide.

maybe it’s fitting title though. you certainly need valor to even think about taking another sip of that... concoction—which you do because you are obsessed with getting your money’s worth.

“valentine’s day was half a week ago?” your mental calendar helpfully supplies.

the clatter of pans in the back kitchen somehow mingles charmingly with the way rintarou throws his head back to laugh—a scene straight out of a movie really. you decide you hate him in the moment. “right you are. want a prize?” ugh. you stick your tongue out at his tone.

great. as if to add insult to injury, of course you’re sharing an out-of-date love holiday special with suna of all people. valentine’s was four days ago and this is where you are on a thursday night. the sticky upholstery of the booth seat, ripped and fraying at the corners, squeaks and groans and attaches itself to the fabric of your jeans as you shift around, suddenly hot. what a strange situation to be in, you think. this has to be a metaphor for life—then again, you’d been thinking this whole... thing has been a metaphor anyway.

yup, ever since suna sat next to you in a calculus II lecture all those fated months ago and took pity on how much you fucking sucked at math, up until the present where he takes slightly less pity on you but does enjoy emptying your dorm mini-fridge and making you pay for his milkshakes—all of it. this entire thing with him. one big stupid metaphor.

the specifics of how you came to have a routine like this are certainly murky, but two things are for certain—one, your calculus grade is certainly a lot better than it would have been otherwise, and two, you have one friend more than you did at the start of the school year. (that last one is kind of a big deal, you think. the college social scene is brutal. the word friend has started to become more disappointing than exhilarating lately though.)

rin reaches to your left to pick at the fries you’d ordered as a side—you’ve learned not to try and stop him. “also,” he adds, mouth full, “you’re totally getting me a new pencil after this.” yes, true, the pencil you’re currently leaving frustrated teeth marks all over isn’t yours. very easy to forget in the moment. you’ve probably destroyed 15 of his pencils by now for the 15 weeks of the last semester—only 7 so far for the current one. you do the mental math.

instead of drawing in the sharp lines of the differential equation that should be going in the question box, you lightly trace in the curves of a 2 and then another one next to it in the corner of the worksheet, graphite underlining them both in one swoop. the horribly thin paper of the school library’s printer is scratchy as you write but soon you flip the pencil over and under your fingers to tap the eraser (that has seen better days) just below what you wrote. “this is pencil number 22.”

suna leans over to look at the number as if you hadn’t just told him what it said. what an idiot. “glad you’re keeping count.” he settles back into his seat. “when can i expect my reimbursement?”

“you’re funny,” you say, without a hint of humor in your voice. the pretty 22 you had written now has flower petals growing off of the sides as you get distracted doodling along the edges of your work. it’s quiet for a moment as he watches you, or maybe as he takes the chance while you’re distracted to shove more french fries down his throat—either option is plausible and you don’t lift your eyes to check.

something occurs to you.

“rin.” you take an extended pause in between the words as you continue drawing, just to annoy him. you don’t continue speaking until he grumbles in acknowledgment (you try to hide your smile). “do you ever doodle in your notebooks?” now that you thought about it, suna was surprisingly pretty straight-laced when it came to class—you couldn’t ever recall him ever slacking off to the degree that meant his pages were filled with hearts and stars and flowers and suns and atomically inaccurate animals and tiny people in different colored ink. your work was always certainly the more vibrant out of the two (perhaps that could explain your grades and how you understand like... nothing in your lectures, but you decide correlation does not equal causation).

“waste of time,” he says around another mouthful of fries, another one already halfway there to his mouth.

suna is also surprisingly negative at times—but the blue book flipped open to his homework says maybe he’s just a liar though. you squint at it.

“it’s still pretty early but we probably should get out of here soon,” suna says, pulling his phone out from his pocket to check the time and leaning his elbows on the table. “i’ll walk you back. your roomie doesn’t leave the gym until 9—before you ask, yes i’ve been keeping track. it’s not stalking if it’s for my own sake.”—rin is, of course, referring to the long standing rivalry between him and your (very nice, might you add) roommate you don’t really understand but which has cumulated in him deciding he would avoid them as much as humanly possible purely out of spite. (“the only person i like in dorm 302 is you,” he’d told you one time and the throwaway sentence maybe made your heart flutter more than it probably should’ve.)

the bell above the front door jingles behind you as another patron enters. rin glances up at the sound and then returns to his phone with a bored bat of his eyes, probably scrolling through twitter or replying to texts, and picking at his teeth with a toothpick (where did he even get that?).

you try to get back to work (copying) but something in your gut tells you there’s more to his notebook than the messy handwriting and crossed out words that meet the eye.

with suna distracted, you take the chance to carefully slide the book towards you and then, in a single quick swipe, pull it into your lap under the table, already leafing to the back pages—everyone knows that’s where the real secrets are—not sure what to expect. a flash of color makes you pause and you flip back to a page that has the corner folded into a tiny, crisp triangle.

whatever you were thinking suna had stashed in the back of his calculus notebook certainly does not match up with what’s staring you in the face currently. sparkly, gel-inked hearts in neon colors glitter under the fluorescent overheads. in each of them, written in capital letters neater than you thought possible for suna, is your initials, a small plus sign in the middle, and then S.R. (for none other than suna rinatoru) next to it. it instantly makes sense to you. “rin, what the fuck.” one side of the book dangles from your hand, pages fluttering, and you hold it up for him to see, other hand flying to cover your mouth because you don’t know whether to laugh or pretend to be mortified or what.

it’s very amusing to watch how suna goes from a disinterested stare, to widened eyes, to reaching over the heaps of school supplies to attempt to grab the book from you, frantic. you hold it just out of reach. “what are you—” an old lady at a table shushes him when he half-screams. “—give that back,” suna whisper-yells instead in the greatest verbal equivalent of tiny caps you’ve ever heard.

“not a chance.”

he looks like he wants to lunge across the table and pry his prized possession from your meddling hands, but also has half the mind not to make a scene. getting kicked out and then subsequently banned from his favorite diner all on a noise complaint and disorderly conduct accusation was not ideal.

you hum, flip back to your place, and observe the drawings covering the lined pages. you shoot him a venomous smirk over the edge of the cover, one that’s more theatrics than anything, and say with all the satisfaction of someone who knows they have all the power, “oh, this is gold.” he deflates and you feel grateful he doesn’t see right through your facade because oh man are you sweating inside right now. what the fuck? no way suna rintarou is drawing little hearts with both of your initials in it like a lovesick middle schooler. no fucking way. you almost want to tell him that you did the same thing once when the thoughts about him had gotten especially bad (you felt guilty afterwards though, thinking you never had a chance with him, but... now... if he’s doing the same—well, that kind of changes everything).

suna is utterly defeated you think—doesn’t even try to defend himself, just slumps in his seat with a groan. you at least expected a “i can explain!” from him, a last attempt at dignity, not the resigned “i’m never going to live this down, am i?” he mumbles after a few seconds. well, either works for you.

“nope,” you quip, maybe a little too cheerfully because the response you receive is a distressed wail and him banging his head against the table. the old lady shushes him again. you chuckle at that (it feels a little wobbly though because once again, freaking out here) and flip the page. you stop.

this one has similar perfect little hearts drawn all over it, but there are other things. cute, standard shaky drawings of misshapen dogs and volleyballs and other things you never thought suna would take it upon himself to create but all of which make sense are there. but there’s something else. little scribbles in the corners with your last name swapped with his and even him trying out his name with your last one—all of them are scratched out but not so much you can’t read them. a list on the right in a very tiny font that makes you think he was embarrassed even penning the words is titled “date ideas?” (the question mark is in red and the dot is a heart) and has several popular spots around town written down in the local lingo of unofficial names for them.

“listen... please let’s forget about this.” rin’s voice is muffled and he’s still faceplanted. “it’s fine if you don’t... you know... yeah.” if you don’t feel that way, he means. true, the doodles were a pretty good indication of his feelings.

what to do...

well... you take pity on him, let your lips upturn and your eyes soften to reflect the sentiment, and shut the book with a quiet thud. you slide it back across the table from where it came and back to him silently. you give it a resounding pat when suna peeks up at you, expression saying it all—he was so going to get you back for this. you stick your tongue out—acceptance of the challenge. and just like that, you’re friends again—maybe that’s what’s so great about suna.

as you get ready to leave and slowly begin the trek back to the dorm buildings with him, street lamps glimmering a pasty yellow, there’s no awkward tension, no need to ask questions, no verbal wonderings about what ifs between you two. it’s just joking and shoving each other around and challenges to see who can run to the next tree the fastest in the middle of the chilly february night. you know, maybe for now you’ll keep your own thoughts a secret.

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some-kindofgnome · 4 years

Text

Kinktober #7: Anytime: Mirio Togata

In which you give Mirio something that he really, really deserves.

Characters: Mirio Togata x f!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ please!) oral sex (m-receiving, mentions of f-receiving), fluff (FLUFF), aged up characters, public showers, strong language, mirio being absolutely adorable, offensively early visits to the gym

Notes: We’ve made it to the end of the first week of Kinktober! Thank you to everyone who’s been following, liking, and reading my work! I’ve had a lot of fun creating and sharing these stories for you so far.

I’ve got a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it college au coming atcha! Today’s prompt was ‘Blowjob,’ and I’m not gonna lie- I’m excited to put this one into the world. 😂 It’s cuuuuuute, okay?

Kinktober Masterlist

“The coast is clear.”

“Good. Close the door.”

You’re in stealth mode as you creep into the showers, sticking close enough to Mirio that your nose is practically buried between his shoulder blades. Even if the locker room doors are only twenty feet from where you’d been standing, you’ve got your fingers laced through his.

You’re not quite ready to break contact with him, considering what you’ve got planned.

It was his idea to start working out in the mornings again. You used to come in the evenings, after both of you were finished with class and schoolwork. But the only problem was that everybody else on the entire goddamned college campus- students, profs, anyone with a heartbeat- had the same idea.

Sick of crowded treadmills and waiting in line for weight benches, you came when the doors opened at six-thirty every morning. Some other gyms might be crowded at that time. But this was a college gym. And no college student in their right mind got out of bed before nine.

Needless to say, you almost always have the place to yourselves. You love working out with Mirio. Not only is he the best coach- encouraging, challenging, but never judgemental- but you get to watch him, too.

Something tells you that he’s clued into the fact that you like a little eye candy with your early morning workout, since he’s started showing up with less clothing every time. He’s got a habit of wearing those loose-fitting athletic shorts these days that don’t hide a damned thing.

And you’re pretty fucking sure he’s not wearing anything underneath them, either.

Your friends like to tease you about the sunny disposition your boyfriend always carries. They seem to think that the ability to seem happy all the time and a tendency toward dirty thoughts are mutually exclusive traits.

You don’t like to kiss and tell. But as soon as both of you had been dating long enough to get over yourselves, you’d discovered that Mirio Togata was a shameless- no, ruthless- flirt.

He closes the door softly behind him. His reflexes are still on high alert from sneaking past the desk attendant, even though she’d looked about as close to sleeping with her eyes open as one can possibly get. Apparently, she doesn’t get paid enough to stop you.

That doesn’t stop either of you from wanting the door locked, though. With deft fingers, Mirio slips the latch into place.

Then you’re on him.

“W-wait, babe, I-I thought we were gonna shower first-“

He stutters between peals of laughter as you grab him by the arms and hustle him toward the tile wall, pushing his shoulders up against it and kissing your way down his neck.

“Can’t wait,” you mumble, sliding unabashedly onto your knees in front of him. “Wanna taste you.”

You’ve been thinking about doing this all morning. It all started over at the bench press when, instead of spotting him, you were spotting the half-mast he’d been sporting through his basketball shorts. Apparently, exertion did that to a guy.

Exertion. Arousal. You don’t care, as long as it’s in your mouth.

Mirio’s definitely caught off guard by your forwardness, but he’s not stopping you as you shove his shorts down. You’re right, by the way- he’s not wearing anything underneath. Goddamn tease. He knows what he’s getting himself into.

He’s only half-hard but you can’t wait to get your mouth on him, flushed and salty. You wrap your fingers around the base of his cock and his hips stutter.

“P-princess,” he grunts as hard lines of muscle stand out along the ridges of his tensing thighs. You can’t wait any longer, leaning in and licking a stripe up the underside of his cock before you swallow him down.

You’ve never felt a reaction like his before.

The urgency of this entire situation was born out of a conversation that came last night. The two of you had been curled in his bed, spent and breathless. He’d gone down on you, eating you out until you were numb and boneless, and you’d mentioned something after the fact about returning the favour.

“I’d never make you,” he’d chuckled bashfully, “but if you ever wanted to, I’d love to know what it feels like.”

You sprang out of bed so fast that you bashed your shin against the frame. The bruise is getting nasty now, almost ten hours later.

Nobody in the history of Mirio Togata had ever thought that he had a cock worth sucking. When you’d tried to ask him why, he’d just blushed and insisted that none of the girls he’d ever dated seemed interested. And he wasn’t interested in making them do something they didn’t enjoy, so… here he was. Twenty years old and he’s never had his cock sucked.

You’d promised to rectify the issue. At a later date, when the two of you had regained feeling in your limbs again.

Cue early morning workout. Scandalously underdressed boyfriend. Conveniently abandoned locker room. Delightfully cool tile wall.

Now it’s Mirio’s turn to go boneless with his back to it. One of his hands crawls into the base of your ponytail as his hips jerk hesitantly into your mouth.

“Ah! Nngh, I’m sorry,” he pants, but you’re prepared for this. You purse your lips and groan around him, letting him shiver through the vibrations before you pull your mouth off him with a wet little pop.

“I can take you, baby,” you promise breathlessly, casting your eyes up just long enough to see what a brilliant shade of scarlet his ears and cheeks are turning. For a man with so much confidence in bed, it’s nice to see him fall apart every so often. He’s not afraid to give up his composure to you.

Just another thing you love so much about him.

You take him again- only this time, you draw it out, suckling playfully at the head until he’s whimpering and flexing his hand in your hair. And when you’re almost certain he can’t handle any more you start into a rhythm, bobbing back and forth while your tongue works him and your hand picks up the slack.

He’s too big to swallow completely, but… it’s not like he’ll have anything to compare this feeling to.

“Oh god, Princess, I- your mouth…”

You suck and lick and slurp away, letting it get sloppy. Loving the way he seems overstimulated already, giving tender little cries as his body shakes and shudders with every purse of your lips.

“Look at you,” he gasps, and you realize that he’s looking down at you for the first time. That seems to double the tension in his body, and you slide your free hand up the front of one bare thigh, finding the weight of his balls and giving them a gentle tug.

He shouts, throwing his head into the tiles with a dull little thud. You feel his knees give a little.

“Oh god,” comes his voice again, pinched and desperate. “Aw, hell, oh, man, oh, fu-huck, I-I’m…”

He doesn’t give you too much warning, but you’re ready for him anyway as his body seizes. He jerks involuntarily at your hair and his hips buck forward, fucking your face as his cock twitches.

He cries out and tries to pull back, but you grab his ass, pulling his hips forcefully forward and holding him there. He takes the hint and leans into it, giving a cry of your name as he empties himself down your throat.

When he’s finished and going limp in your mouth you pull away and he collapses against the wall, sliding down it until his bare ass is on the floor with his shorts still around his knees.

“So?” You hum, sliding up next to him. You help him tug his shorts up and get himself situated again, and he runs a hand over the back of his neck, which has also gone crimson.

“You’re…” he starts, then trails off. When he looks up at you it’s with the most bashful, loving grin you’ve ever seen. If he could have hearts in his eyes, he would.

“You’re incredible.”

You laugh. You can’t help it. You lean in and kiss his cheek, then nuzzle your nose against the corner of his jaw.

“Nah,” you reply. “You just really, really deserved that.”

He doesn’t say anything right away. A thoughtful expression crosses his face for a moment. Then he speaks up.

“So you’ll do it again sometime?”

You’re still giggling, but it’s only because you’re falling in love with him all over again. You put your arms around him and squeeze.

“Any time.”

He leans over and kisses the top of your head, smiling into your hair.

“Good.”

In a single, sweeping motion, he grabs you by the thighs and hauls you into his arms, hoisting himself into his feet. He’s making for one of the benches, and you can tell by the look in his eye- not hearts anymore, something else- that you’re in for it now.

He lays you out on the narrow bench and gets down on his knees beside you. Bashful, overstimulated Mirio is nowhere to be found as he smirks, bringing his mouth to your ear and giving you a tender growl.

“My turn.”

#mirio togata x reader #my hero academia #mirio x reader #lemillion #mha lemillion #kinktober #jbbkinktober2020 #mirio togata #mirio #mha fanfiction #boku no hero academia #bnha fanfiction

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stillebesat · 4 years

Text

Scales (2/7)

Sanders Sides: Logan, Deceit, Virgil, Roman, Patton Blurb: Deceit hadn’t expected his absence from the Mindscape to be noticed by the others…until Logic knocked on his door. Fic Type: General Warnings: Shedding (snake style), Minor Injuries, Minor Pain, Touch Starvation Taglist in Reblog.

To Catch Up: Prologue

“Lyal?”

It was the muffled sound of the name he’d given to the others that jerked Deceit awake more than the knock on his door.

He gave a soft groan, letting his head rest back on his sodden pillow as he closed his human eye. Who in the world would want to come disturb him? His nostrils flared, gathering in the visitor’s scent as the person on the other side knocked again. Deceit shifted his head so his inhuman eye could look at the door and to the faint heat signature standing just beyond it.

Straight backed and Cool Yellow in shade. Smelling of Old Books and Blackberries no-it was sweeter. So...Jam… That could only mean it was--

“Lyal? It’s Logan. I have Pizza.”

Pizza? Deceit frowned, pushing himself up on a shaky elbow, disturbing the mist drifting through his humid room. Pizza night wasn’t until Friday. Why were they having it early?

“Lyal. Please. We’re worried. Open the door.”

Worried? Why in the world were they worried? Usually his absences from the Mindscape were celebrated by the others.

Deceit took a breath, steeling himself before he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. He swayed as the vision in his good eye tunneled, but forced himself to move towards the door only to have his uncoordinated feet tangle in his cape he’d left on the floor.

He bit back a yelp, barely managing to avoid banging his head on his desk as he fell, catching himself with his good hand as the other curled up tight against his chest to avoid antagonizing it further.

He groaned, cursing under his breath as he pushed shakily back to his feet. Ugh. It was bad this time. Deceit brushed at his sweating forehead, the fingers of his good hand delicately touching the left side of his face and the leathery texture covering his scales. Stiff. He was only halfway through the shedding process, which meant--he glowered at the door. Were the other Sides really so worried about him to come bribing him with pizza after being absent for twenty-four hours? It’d only been one day for crying out loud! They could leave him in peace that long. What had happened to not caring about when he was there or not?

The doorknob jiggled. “Lyal?”

Deceit closed his human eye. Right. The name. How could he have forgotten? Things were different now that he’d given the Light Sides a name to refer to him by after they’d nearly tricked him into revealing his real one four months ago.

Four months ago when he’d just come out of the last shed. When he was more vulnerable to…trickery. Not that the others had known. They’d just lucked out in timing.

He hadn’t thought a name would have such an effect on them though, not even after their invitation a couple of days after the event to come join them for their ‘family’ dinners.

Ha. Inviting the bad guy to ‘family’ dinner. He’d laughed. Accepted. Come…and kept coming because he...he liked the change in tone towards him. Liked the homemade food. Liked the banter he could participate in without worrying about it coming back to bite him.

But after all that…Deceit hadn’t thought disappearing for a couple of days would result in the Light Sides worrying for him. He edged his way carefully to the door, shuffling his feet so he wouldn’t trip over anything else.

If he had known how...sensitive the others would be to him vanishing, he would have made better preparations for his disappearance. But how could he have known? Creativity vanished all the time into the Imagination with barely a reaction and the others actually liked him.

Deceit ran a hand through his hair, fingers jerking away from the waxy substance coating the strands on the left side. A newer addition to the shedding process thanks to when Thomas made the decision to dye his hair a couple years ago.

Another knock. Another jiggle of the door knob. “Deceit. I can hear you in there. Please. Are you alright?”

A please? From Logic? What was wrong with the Side to use that around him? Deceit glowered at the heat signature as he fumbled his way to the door, unscaled hand held out in front of him. He didn’t like moving when his depth perception was skewed like this, it made him feel vulnerable, not being able to tell when objects were getting too--he slipped on his gloves he’d also left scattered on the floor, hitting the door with a loud thud.

Ow.

“Lyal!”

Deceit groaned, wincing as he pushed himself upright, the left side of his body screaming at him with large red flashes of agony. Too sensitive. Too much---He growled mentally pinching himself. Suck it up. He’d had worse pain during his sheds.

He couldn’t think of any instances at this particular moment, but he was sure he’d had worse.

Deceit fumbled with the series of locks keeping Logic out, his right hand less skilled with the mechanisms than his left would be if it were functional at the moment.

A final click.

There.

Deceit exhaled, gathering his flagging energy. Just a brief interaction. He could do this. Reassure Logic. Then he could go back to bed. He pulled open the door a crack, peering at the Side with his human eye, careful to keep his left side out of sight.

Logic stood there, a paper plate with four slices of pizza on it held in his hands. Relief flashed across his face as he leaned forward, his amber eyes sharpening like a snake about to strike as he held out the plate to the small gap. “Here.”

Deceit swallowed, his nostrils once again flaring as the scent drifted to him. This was so unfair to have his mouth watering even as his stomach twisted in knots. “I’m not hungry.” He said, keeping his voice low. He tightened his grip on the handle. He never was during this time.

Logic frowned, adjusting his glasses with one hand. “Not hun--” He shook his head, holding the pizza up higher.

As if that would change his mind.

“How can that be a truth, Lyal?” He demanded, eyebrows furrowing with confusion. “It’s been far too long--”

Twenty-four hours wasn’t that long. “I’ll be down in a couple of days, Logic. Don’t worry.” He said, trying to reassure the Side, though Deceit couldn’t quite hide the weariness in his tone as he edged the door shut. The process only ever took three days max, even if this time around had left him feeling weaker than normal.

The others could survive without his presence that long. They had before.

He jumped, an involuntary hiss escaping his lips as Logic slapped his hand on the door, keeping it open before Deceit could fully close it.

Logic shook his head, arm stiff. “It’s been six days, D--Lyal.” He said, meeting his eye. “As much as a nuisance as partaking of substance is, we do need to eat too in order to fully function for Thomas. You have to eat something.” He tilted his head to the top slice that had pepperoni on it. “At least take a bite from one of them.”

His heart skipped a beat. “Si-Six…Days?” Deceit repeated, numbly. The fingers of his left hand twitched, their movements stiff under the leathery texture. No. That couldn’t be--the shed would have finished in six days. He wouldn’t be---

The pizza.

They were going to have pizza on Friday.

Logic had pizza in his hands.

It was Pizza night!

He inhaled sharply, swaying as his vision tunneled. No. NO. He couldn’t have lost six days! It felt only like ONE.

But the weakness to his limbs, the dizziness when he stood---

“Lyal?” Logic asked, concern strong in his tone as he leaned forward trying to peer through the crack to see him better. “You...didn’t know?”

“I...I….No---” Deceit shook his head, careful to keep Logic from seeing the shed. “I’m...I’ll be fine. It’s nothing to worry about.” He lied as his mind raced. Six Days?! He hadn’t struggled with a shed for that long since Thomas had decided to come out of the closet!

What had gone wrong? He had the humidity and the heat in his room set up like he always did at this time. The process should have gone on without issue. Even the newer addition of his waxy hair hadn’t caused major problems before now. What had he done wrong?!

“I...can believe you hadn’t noticed the passage of time, but that last part is a lie.” Logic said in an undertone, drawing Deceit’s attention back to him. “What has you worried? Why are you avoiding us?” “I’m not avoi--” He grimaced, drawing back so that Logic could no longer see him. He needed the other Side to leave so he could work on fixing this! Sheds should never last this long. The left side of him shouldn’t feel so constricted still. Not after six days! If he didn’t fix it soon there could be so many issues, deformities. He already was a freak among the others, he didn’t want to make it even more obvious.

“You are. Is it because--”

“My reason isn’t what you think it is.” Deceit interrupted, hand trembling on the knob as he stared at Logic’s cool yellow heat signature through the door. “And I don’t want to talk about--” Deceit cut off again, inhaling shakily, hearing the lie in his words. How...Why would he want to talk about it?! He never talked about this. He always dealt with this alone. It’s not like the others could help him in this even if they wanted to. They didn’t have scales.

Logic tilted his head, finally dropping his hand away from the door to fidget with the paper plate. “The others, despite what they might say otherwise, are worried for you, Deceit--ah Lyal.” He said. “I am worried about you. Extremely worried. I-” He shrugged. “I wish I came up sooner, but you never miss pizza night, yet you did tonight and that’s--I wouldn’t have brought some up to you otherwise.”

Deceit snorted, hoping it didn’t sound as hysterical as he was feeling. If Logic hadn’t knocked on his door...how much longer would it have been before he realized his shed wasn’t going well? A freaking week had passed by and he hadn’t noticed!

He closed his human eye, the film covered snake one continuing to stare at Logic’s heat signature. The fact that he came at all was...gratifying in a way. He would never have realized something was wrong otherwise.

He edged forward so he could see Logi---Logan with his human eye. “Yah...that’s usually Morality’s thing is it not?” He whispered. Not that Morality had ever brought him food when he’d been consistent in coming to the family dinners, but Deceit had seen the father figure do it multiple times for Anxiety.

“Correct.” Logan gestured, the paper plate of pizza vanishing from his hands. “But the fact is, whatever you wish to tell us, we can handle it.” He leaned forward again, eyes earnest. “At this point the others and I would prefer to know why you are hiding out in your room so that we can take measures to prevent this series of events from occurring again.” He gestured to Anxiety’s door. “We did the same thing for Virgil, we can do it for you. We can help you, Lyal.”

Deceit sighed, letting his head fall against the door with a dull thunk. “Cute speech, Logic” He mumbled. “But it’s not that simple.” Deceit grimaced. It wasn’t! Yet he wanted it to be. Could Logan help? Could Logic tell him that his shed was something the others could help him with? He couldn’t see how. “This isn’t something that will go away. It’s--It’s--” His breath hitched as tears welled up in his good eye.

Gah. Stupid. So stupid. He shouldn’t be crying about this! Stupid shed. He shook his head. “It’s a part of me. This won’t change.” He accepted it long ago, but he doubted the others would.

Logan’s heat signature pressed a hand against the door, right where Deceit’s head rested. “Then shouldn’t we know?” He asked. “Virgil struggles with anxiety, Roman with his self-esteem. When they have bad days we do what we can to help them. We support each other. It’s what family does. Through thick and thin. We’re there.”

Deceit grimaced. Family? Ha. It was a nice thought. But that was them. The Light Sides. Not him. Not a Dark Side. “That’s not--that’s different...than this.”

“Lyal.” Logan exhaled. “You know as Logic I’m not as prone to emotional outbursts like the others.”

Yah right. “Crofters.”

He huffed, adjusting his glasses. “Granted there are exceptions. But I could, if you are willing, give my opinion on whether or not this issue of yours is something we should continue to remain uninvolved with.”

Deceit closed his eye, pressing his lips together, his shoulders slumping.

“Lyal please.” Logan said, dropping his hand to the doorknob. “Let me help.”

Deceit drew in a shaky breath. Logic wasn't going to let this go. The others wouldn't either. Not now that they’d noticed something was off. It was how they worked, unfortunately.

Anxiety hadn’t been left to his own devices once he was accepted. He should have realized sooner that the others were doing the same to him. Especially when he made the choice to give them a name to call him by. Gave them a reason to think of him as something more than his job. He should have realized when they invited him to the dinners. When Morality had referred to him as part of the...family.

“You don’t have to struggle alone, Lyal.” Logan continued in a soothing tone. “We’re family. We can help you. If you let us.”

Family.

Deceit exhaled.

Logic--Logan just had to use that word.

He lifted his head. “Alright.” He said, flicking on the light before he moved back away from the door. He couldn't hide this. Not for much longer at any rate. Deceit cleared his throat, stomach writhing as he crossed his good arm over his bare chest, turning the scaled side away from the door as it swung open.

To Be Continued Chapter 2

#Scales #stillebesat #Sanders Sides #Deceit #Logan #Logic #shedding tw #minor pain tw #minor injuries tw #touch starvation tw

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haruhey · 3 years

Note

🤔 💭 and this is not a question but I gotta say, I love your writing, hope you are doing great!

hey sgtapepper !! i’m really glad you enjoy my writing and, besides the fact school will start up for me in a few weeks, i’m doing great :)

as for your questions:

🤔 What is the hardest part of writing fic?

everything !! the hardest part about writing a fanfic is honestly writing all the parts, ufeel me?

the way i go about my writing process is i basically film a little movie in my head, full of camera angles and all that other good stuff, then i try my best to transcribe everything which you guys then read. the hardest part really is just the writing part which sucks because that’s literally the only thing you need to do to write fanfic.

💭 What is a headcanon you have about your own work?

hmm i don’t really know how to reply to this question to be honest. i feel like the way i write doesn’t really give much room for headcanons since i use so many hyphens to ‘talk to the audience’ essentially and give some expository throughout the fanfic. though, maybe i could use this to explain my blueprints for how i model the whole storyline and experiences of the ‘you’ character?

‘you’

in the early fics, met during the prison (recruited by him or by glenn), but now i favour the meeting setting being the greene farm (you got stumbled across during his search for sophia)

has been with groups before meeting team family but none have stuck

was still relatively naïve about stuff about the apocalypse (esp on the more physical/violent side) before meeting daryl and then voluntarily approached him to learn about stuff, making him confused because ‘why tf is this person talking to me??’

not much younger than daryl, 1-7 years probably just because i’m personally not that big of a fan between huge age gaps. i don’t have a problem with them, especially if both characters get together when they have similar life experiences (i don’t mind connie x daryl because, though their age gap is probably a decade, connie is ~35-40 and daryl is ~50), but i have a problem when it’s morally reprehensible like *coughbethylcough*

after the prison, met up again sometime before terminus or during terminus (there’s some leeway there - maybe you were with rick, michonne and carl, stumbled across them after the claimers confrontation by yourself, maybe you were with maggie - whatever drives the plot forward). because beth had such an impact on him, i wouldn’t want to erase that from his character

went to grady, but went with rick for the hostage stuff

after getting to alexandria, was probably assigned to work at the infirmary, but after carol recognizes pete’s abuse, you opt for runs instead until he gets murked

as for daryl

bestie can juggle !! nothing as advanced as knives or anything, but he can do three apples and maybe four beanbags if you let him practice a bit beforehand

naturally doesn’t need a lot of sleep, but also takes a really short nap at least once a week

tries to give himself stitches/hides wounds he thinks he can take care of himself so he doesn’t use resources or have to confess to you how he got them

didn’t have a cell, instead took one of the admin rooms in the prison (like where guards would stand to watch over prisoners and click clack away on computers)

probably was religious at one point (only to the extent of going to church on sunday), but fell out of religion really really young

was good at school but because of his brother’s reputation and bad home life, he was never given the resources to actually end up pursuing anything academically and probably has a sort of inferiority complex if the topic of undergrad comes up

he can draw !! picked up the skill when he was a kid but hid it because merle thought it was lame or would give him shit for it. still does it, too - on pieces of scrap paper, in the dirt if he goes out to hunt and feels bored - and if he’s pining really hard and can spare the resources (which he usually can’t), he’ll draw them

stick and pokes his own tattoos (that BBH skull hello??)

doesn’t shower much because of childhood trauma (dunked into cold water, not being able to breathe as one of his parents washes his hair because they kept his head dunked in) and even as an adult, he’s shower adversed because he has to touch his scars

doesn’t take off his shoes in his house which !! take off your shoes !! you’re in the house !! outdoor shoes don’t belong on indoor floors !!

lives alone in a smaller house since nobody wanted to room with him, carol lives with tobin, you and tara already had a deal, and a bunch of people died when he was redirecting the heard so there were a bunch of houses that were vacant

also lives in the basement because he enjoys the shade and the coolness in the mornings when he wakes up

rips off his own sleeves (but only has a few of them) and gives his sleeves to carol

i also enjoy the bisexual daryl headcanon !!

#haruanswers

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feminaexlux · 4 years

Text

Branded

It’s the @lukanette-exchange fic! After a long while it’s here!! @kingsglaivian I hope you enjoy! Also thanks to LBSC and @quickspinner in particular for finding the cool soulmark prompt lol

I am super, super excited to share this with you!

Original prompts: “childhood friends AU, soulmate AU, and an AU of the exchangee's choice.”

∴

It’d been just a few minutes after they first met when she first wrote her name on him.

She had come closer and stared over his shoulder when she saw he’d been drawing something. Was it a drawing? It looked like he had been drawing circles on a bunch of lines. Oh, Maman had showed her how music was written, it was music! “Hi! Are you drawing music?” She had asked cheerfully.

The boy had startled, apparently not having seen Marinette earlier. His pencil had marked across the entire page. “Aah!”

“Oh no!” Marinette whined. “You messed up!”

“Y-you made me do that,” he frowned. “You scared me.”

“Are you drawing music?” Marinette continued asking.

“Oh, yeah, yeah I am,” he said, turning the pencil around and erasing the errant mark. “I think about music all the time.”

“So what does that mean?” she asked, poking at his paper.

“That’s uh… that's…” he thought a bit. “I think that’s D and the next one is F and another D but this one’s higher. It’s a song from a video game.”

“You play video games?! Papa and I play games too!”

They talked back and forth about a bunch of different little things and he completely forgot what he’d been doing. Then it got to the point where Marinette had pulled out one of her markers and started writing her name on his arm. “– and if stays tomorrow it means you found your true love!” Marinette smiled up at the boy she’d been talking to. He looked like he was a few years older. Maybe he was even 10? Maybe he was younger, he looked really kinda small to be 10.

She was at the playground next to her family’s bakery. She’d been running around and playing with a few other kids there, but she saw this one boy sitting by a tree in the shade. He looked like he was alone and Marinette wondered if he’d been bullied. She knew what that was like, even at the tender age of 5. But it was easy to talk to this boy, he was much less Crazy Mean Boy than Kim was. He was more like Nino! And Nino was nice.

“Is that your name?” the boy asked, staring at her neatly written letters. “Marinette?”

“Yeah!”

“So if it stays tomorrow you’re my true love?” He asked, confused. “Mom told me that writing names on other people is bad… But why?”

“Maman and Papa have their names on each other’s arms,” Marinette said. “It’s not bad! Oh but you have to draw over it ‘cause it’s important that you do it,” Marinette added.

“Why?”

“It’s important,” she clarified. It looked like he was going to keep asking why until his mom called out.

“Ay laddie, it’s time to go,” a lady with a long braid said in their general direction. She had a girl on her hip and was walking over to the boy. “Why hello there lass, are ye makin’ friends with me boy?”

“I’m Marinette,” she said up to the lady. She wasn’t Lass, she wanted to say.

Marinette saw the boy quickly pull down his sleeves from his hoodie to hide her name. “Itwasnicetomeetyoubye,” he said quickly, before Marinette could whine about him hiding her name. He ran away to hold onto his mom’s hand. “Let’s go mom,” he continued, pulling his mom away in a slightly embarrassed fashion.

“Don’t ye want to say farewell? We won’t be ashore fer a while son.” Well, she didn’t know at the time he had wanted to run away and hide so the nice new girl wouldn’t be weirded out by his mom like most people were.

“See you tomorrow!” Marinette yelled after him.

She didn’t.

∴

It’d been just a few days after they first met.

Luka scrubbed and scrubbed at the M on his wrist but it wasn’t coming out. He’d scrubbed himself raw at the sink, his flesh feeling tender and his skin close to bleeding. He’d written over the girl’s marker with a pen a few days ago, idly curious if the mark would stay. At least he’d written over just the M, thinking about the nice girl who’d been curious about him.

“Luka?” He heard his mom call out. No, no, no. It wasn’t coming out and his mom would see it and she’d freak out and he’d have to make an excuse or find some of her makeup or something. He’d been told to take off his hoodie by… that man and so he ran back to the bathroom to try to do something about the M on his wrist.

Anarka opened the door. “Luka, my boy what are ye–” Oh no oh no she saw the mark. He put his hands back in the sink and kept scrubbing, starting to cry. “Luka what…” His mom started, initially alarmed and then… and then she came over to hug him.

“Mom what do I do?” He cried. “It’s not coming out!”

“Who'd… no, it doesn’t matter. Luka stop doing that, it’s not going to come out. It doesn’t, lad.” His mom took his hands from the sink and started to dry them. “It stays no matter how hard ye try to get rid o’ it.” She spoke to him with the rare moment of solemnity. “Ye'e been Branded, and there’s nothin we can do about it.”

“I don’t wanna be Branded!” he wailed.

In a quiet, heated hiss Anarka whispered “This is why I told ye to never write names on yerself!” She looked at her son crying and sighed, shaking her head. Luka would realize later she’d been more disappointed in herself that she’d let him get Branded like he did. She thought she warned him, but how could she blame him for something no one ever thought would happen at 7 years old?

Who finds their soulmate at 7?

But it’d be a shackle for the rest of his life. Luka would grow up wondering if this M would ever be part of his life again, whether M would even want to be his partner. If he did find someone else to be his partner, they’d wonder if they’d ever be loved like whoever this M was. “Here,” Anarka sighed. “Ye can’t get rid of that Luka. But ye can cover it. Forget about it now, lad,” she said gently, taking off the wide leather cuff she had on that had covered her own Brand. “This 'ere’s yers now. I’ll get ye all freshened up. Granpa’s waitin for us,” Anarka said, pasting on a fake smile.

Luka hated that man. He was angry and hateful and mean, but Anarka had wanted to see her own Ma again, to have her Ma help guide Anarka in the raising of two children Anarka never originally planned to have. Granma was nice. But Granpa? No. Luka swore to himself he’d never be like Granpa.

His mom put the cuff around Luka’s Brand, looping twice to fit the small wrist better. “All covered up now. Is that fitting, Luka?” He nodded, staring at the “S” on his mom’s wrist.

“Was… that dad?” Luka asked, pointing at the Brand.

Anarka laughed. “It stands for Scotland,” she said lightly. “It stands for the Sea. It’s not yer da, no,” Anarka lied.

∴

It’d been a few weeks since Marinette met Adrien Agreste.

She’d been convinced Adrien was her True Love, and was continually disappointed every morning when his name disappeared off of her arm. “Tikki, it disappeared again,” Marinette sighed.

Tikki shrugged. “Maybe he’s not ready?” The Kwami had seen this before. The Brands were a form of magic that humans had that linked two souls together, signaling that they’d found their soul’s mate. A person would have to write another’s True Name on themselves somewhere, and it would disappear at sunrise if it wasn’t meant to be. Sometimes, though, it depended on if the other person was even capable of loving back. A Brand that had disappeared earlier might “take” later, when the soulmate was ready.

Tikki wasn’t sure if it was a good thing for Marinette that Adrien wasn’t capable of loving Marinette back yet. Maybe Adrien had a different name? The kwami wasn’t going to put forth the suggestion that it might not be Adrien at all. Marinette seemed convinced, and Tikki knew better than to doubt her bearers.

Marinette’s parents proudly wore the names they had on their arms, a very simple “Tom” on Sabine’s wrist and a beautifully formed script of “Sabine” scrawled across Tom’s massive forearm. Of course it simply encouraged Marinette into writing several names on her own arms throughout the years, even if most people found writing names on themselves taboo.

Recently, though, it’d just been Adrien’s.

None of the attempts ever stuck.

“It’ll happen one day!” Tikki said cheerfully. “I believe that you’ll find your soulmate one day. But right now you should get ready for school!”

∴

It’d been a few months after Juleka showed him that the picture curse was broken that he met the girl that’d been able to break it.

“I’m Ma-ma-ma-Marinette!”

He’d laughed a little and it hurt her feelings. Good job, Luka, that was a great first impression. Luckily he was able to apologize and smooth it over.

It tickled him, just a little bit, that he’d met another “M” in his life that he actually ended up liking. He ended up liking her a whole lot, which… ultimately kinda sucked because she’d been interested in someone else. Well, that was alright. He’d been used to the idea that he’d never find “the one” since he technically already had and lost them so many years ago.

But this one? This “M”? She was pretty cool and he found himself more interested than he’d ever been in anyone before.

There’d been one other “M” in his life a couple of years ago before his mom decided to move them all back to France, and Paris in particular. Her name had been Meryl and she was a pretty awesome girl, but she’d been several years older and already in University. She’d still given Luka some attention though, apparently finding it cute that she had a boy doting on her like he did. She was nice and she said he’d look good with some blue in his hair, and it’d been the last thing she said to him before she found herself her own soulmate. It hadn’t been Luka, of course.

He’d gotten into a fight with Granpa over his hair after Luka had dyed it. Juleka joined him by dying her hair purple. Anarka had finally had enough of her and her kids being put down and said she was going to go back “home”. It’d been a hard conversation with Granpa, but after Granma had passed Anarka and her kids had little reason to stick around in their Scottish family house. Anarka’s little wildlings were less little, and Juleka and Luka were both in their tweens to teens, largely old enough to handle themselves now.

Anarka had found some nearly-derelict fishing barge and spent a few weeks with her kids fixing up the ship, making it their new house, and they left Scotland as soon as they could. She sailed the newly christened Liberty back into Parisian waters, claiming the Seine as her new home. She gave a little wink to Luka, a nod to the new “S” in Anarka’s life that her Brand now represented.

It’d been good to see his mom coming back into her old self, the wild, chaotic, free spirit that she’d always been. He was no longer embarrassed of her like he’d been so many years ago. And he had to be honest to himself, the boat wasn’t the first choice he’d make in having a place to come home to, but something about Paris just felt right.

Juleka had been feeling better too. The younger Couffaines had been under their Granpa’s oppressive shadow for too long. And now they were slowly discovering more of themselves over time.

Rose was one of the first friends Juleka had made after coming back to Paris a few years ago, and they were “best friends” since. Today, Juleka showed him a neatly written “Rose” in a flourishing script on the back of her right hand. Juleka apparently hadn’t minded getting the Brand at all. “Marinette did this too,” Juleka smiled. “She’s been drawing names for people who ask. It’s so cool,” Juleka mumbled.

“She’s amazing,” Luka said out loud. Jules gave him a look and even he couldn’t figure out what it meant. “What?”

“She’s got eyes on Adrien, you know.”

“I’ve heard your schemes, I know.”

“I’m on team Adrienette.”

“Alright.”

“She deserves to be happy.”

“Sounds good.”

“It’d be weird if you two dated, anyway.”

“But we’re not dating. She doesn’t seem to notice me.”

Jules frowned at that and grumbled something that sounded to Luka like “she notices and it’s weird.”

He thought to himself, Not where it matters.

∴

It’d been a year since Adrien lost his mother, and Marinette finally said the words “I love you” to him.

Yes, it was a video recording and yes, Felix had apparently gone through and deleted it before Adrien ever got to see it, but she’d done it! She’d done the thing! She could do it again! It had to be easier the second time, right? The second… time.

She couldn’t bring herself to do it. It’d been nearly a full year of her attempting Adrien’s name on her arm, and nothing changed. She’d stayed up and watched it fade out when the sunlight hit it during a few fitful mornings. She wrote his name so often it stopped looking like a word and more like a familiar pattern. Just shapes and no meaning.

Marinette had tried out a few different names over the year as well, just so she’d be certain… in a slightly unsettling way. She kept it discreet, writing on her ankle or in another place easy to cover up in case it was… taking. She’d written “Nathaniel”, once. It disappeared. She’d written “Chat Noir” and nearly sighed in relief (and maybe deep down in slight surprise) when it disappeared. Not that it was his real name anyway.

She’d secretly tried “Nino” once, even though he and Alya had gotten together. It hadn’t stuck. Nino and Alya hadn’t asked for Marinette to write each other’s names down, and maybe… maybe that was actually healthy? Like they didn’t need any external validation in order to really enjoy time spent with each other.

There might have been a lesson in that.

She tried “Kim” and “Wayhem” and “Theo”, even though the last one kinda creeped her out a bit. She tried “Kagami.” Nothing stuck.

There was still one name she hadn’t tried but… but she’d been absolutely terrified of it. Luka had more or less admitted to the world at large that he loved her after he’d gotten akumatized. There’d been genuine affection that was unfiltered, unbiased, uninfluenced by whatever the magic was that made names stay on people. He didn’t seem to mind that she was so, so into Adrien. Even if she wasn’t his soulmate, he’d love her.

S-So she’d be able to do that for Adrien! Yes, that made sense. Yes, that soulmate stuff was all kid fantasy anyway. Even if it was demonstratively real.

But if Adrien found his soulmate and it wasn’t Marinette… what was she supposed to do? Just step out of the way?

∴

It’d been a decade since Marinette and Luka first met except neither remembered that first time when they were young children, even if they’d been in the same place: the park nearby the bakery.

He’d held onto her as she broke down crying about the heartbreak and how tired she was. Luka told her he’d listen and be there and hadn’t lied about any of it. It was why she chose to sit next to him after letting her infatuation go and stepping out of the way for Kagami, watching Adrien and Kagami have their Sweetheart’s ice cream together like it was always meant to be Adrien and Kagami instead of Adrien and Marinette.

Marinette chose to sit next to Luka instead of going home.

She went to bed that night deciding that the whole names and soulmates and True Love thing was just a big huge distraction from what she really needed to focus on, which was getting through school, defeating Hawkmoth, and getting her name out there as an up and coming Fashion Designer!

It lasted all of 3 days until she finally gave into her curiosity and wrote an L in the crook of her left arm before going to bed. She really had meant to write out the rest of his name, but then her phone buzzed and there’d been an akuma alert. She sighed and rolled into action.

Her Lucky Charm gave her a guitar pick. That was a little too on-the-nose, Tikki? Ladybug zipped over to the Liberty, somehow not surprised that Luka was still up and leaning against the Liberty to overlook the Seine, looking cool and thoughtful. Actually, scratch that. He looked a little haggard and worried, and he’d been expecting to see Ladybug. Well, at least it meant she didn’t have to go in and wake him up.

“… you must return the Miraculous after…” Ladybug trailed off, noticing as Luka reached out to take the bracelet that he hadn’t been wearing any of the normal… accessories he chose to wear most of the time, most notably the leather cuff he usually had on. Something bothered her and she caught his hand before he touched the bracelet. She turned his right hand over and looked at the pen mark on his wrist. “Is that an M or an E?”

Luka pulled back his hand immediately, embarrassed. “An… M,” he said reluctantly.

Then Ladybug remembered it’d been incredibly rude of her to ask. “Oh, I’m so sorry I-I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It's… been 10 years since I got that, I don’t even remember much about it,” he shrugged.

Ladybug smiled, biting back a sudden urge to scream, and offered Luka the snake Miraculous again. “If you agree… I’d like your help, Luka.”

Ladybug, Chat Noir, and Viperion were able to save the night and have everyone able to go to bed on time. She picked the Miraculous back up from Viperion, who seemed to be confused the akuma victim wasn’t who he’d expected it to be. “Anything wrong, Luka?”

“No… no, I’m glad I was able to help. I’m okay,” he said, clearly still a bit frazzled. Ladybug furrowed her eyebrows at him and he eventually sighed. “I guess I’m worried about a… friend. She’d been going through a lot so I’d been… I’d been waiting to see if she’d either call me or… or God, I don’t know,” he laughed, a little bit in disbelief. “I almost thought she’d been akumatized tonight. I’m so glad it wasn’t her. But it kinda makes me feel like crap for even thinking that.”

“It’s kind to be worried about your friend. W-Which friend by the way?” Ladybug asked. “I could pay her a visit if you’d like?”

“I don’t know if she’d appreciate that, actually,” he sighed. “She can kill me later if she wants, but yeah it’d be great if you’d check up on her. It’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Instead of being worried that Luka was worried over her, she asked “Is she your M?” Ladybug got blindsided by her own question, but she only felt the impact and implication after she asked it. “Oh no, no, I’m so sorry I’ve been so rude.”

He blew out a breath. “I wish,” he mumbled. “I don’t know,” he said, his tiredness making him slightly more obvious about being miserable. “I guess I could know for sure by writing out her name.” That was said like he had been convinced it’d disappear…

“I’m pretty good at writing out names. If you want I could write… the rest of her name out on your arm?” Ladybug offered impulsively.

“… Sure,” he agreed. He watched her as she grabbed a nearby marker and wrote out Marinette on his arm. “Wow, that… looks pretty dead on to her signature.”

“Pfft,” Ladybug laughed. “That’d be the worst identity reveal ever. Marinette’s signed a few things for me too, I’ll have you know.”

“You might have a future in crime with your forging skills if you ever decide to stop being a hero,” Luka chuckled.

“I’ll stick to saving Paris, don’t worry,” Ladybug giggled. “You do have to write over it yourself if you want it to stay. I mean… if she is… you know…”

Luka nodded. “I know. Probably a long shot. Thanks,” he said.

“I’ll check up on her. Thank you for caring, Luka,” Ladybug smiled. “And you know, I’ve got a good feeling about this one,” she said quietly, biting her lip while tapping his arm. “I’ll be off. Have a good night, 'Bug out!”

Ladybug landed in her bed and detransformed. Tikki floated back to her little nesting spot while the kwami watched Marinette pull out her phone.

hey luka just got a visit from LB! thanks for thinking of me

Marinette looked down into the crook of her arm, grabbing a marker and filling out the rest of Luka’s name. She’d recognized that M on his arm.

Had it really been 10 years when she first met him? It was kind of funny that she didn’t remember until now. He hadn’t given his name back then but she remembered the disappointment the next day when her new friend didn’t show.

Had it really been a whole year of writing… the wrong name on herself?

It’d been months since Luka told her she’d been the melody in his head. Months.

And she had spent a week in heartbreak over the wrong boy.

It’d just been a few days since she decided she was going to let Adrien go. And she found her soulmate after that? How lucky was she? Marinette looked up at the sleeping Tikki and squinted suspiciously. Maybe she was Lucky™, except that she had apparently met Luka when she was 5.

Marinette stared at her phone, watching the minutes go by. She wasn’t going to be able to sleep tonight.

The sun rose after an agonizingly boring time of rolling back and forth in her bed, too excited to go to sleep but too tired to do anything productive. She kept checking the name on her arm and it’d still been there all throughout the night, but now at first light… she was… scared. She closed her eyes and covered her head with her pillow, half dreading what she’d see if she looked down at her left arm where she wrote his name.

“It’ll be there,” she said to herself, feeling more certain of that than anything. The warmth of sunlight hit her left arm. She lifted the pillow off of her face but kept her eyes closed. Slowly she opened one eye.

His name was still there. “It’s you,” she whispered, feeling the tears fall from her eyes.

She launched herself out of bed, turning into a little hurricane of activity. She threw her jacket on and ran downstairs, kissing her Maman and Papa on the cheek and telling them she’d be out for a while. They’d been too surprised to see her up at the crack of dawn to complain much, just insisting that she take her phone with her and that she wear proper shoes.

She ran down to the subway entrance and guessed the nearest station where Liberty would be moored, taking the subway train there. She emerged from an entrance about 10 minutes later, ignoring the confused looks the other commuters shot her since she’d been a mess of pigtails and pajamas. She ran toward the Liberty, climbed up and leapt over the railing onto the ship when she saw that the gangplank wasn’t extended.

“Marinette!” she heard Luka’s alarmed shout. She knew he’d be up. She knew it! He ran over to her. “What the heck–” He’d been wearing a different hoodie, a long sleeved one that covered up both his arms. She frowned at him, noticing the dark circles under his eyes.

“You’re up early,” she said.

“S-So are you! And you’re-you’re here? What’s wrong?” His voice had dropped from a high pitched panic to his deeper, concerned tone in the span of two words.

She took off her jacket and extended her left arm. She saw him flush but start pulling up his hoodie from the hem, taking it off and tossing it aside. He turned his right palm up to show her the name written across his forearm.

Their names had stayed. He breathed out. “Did Ladyb–” She cut him off, her hands on either side of his face to pull him down, planting a kiss on his lips. They pulled back a second after, looking at one another in surprise.

“It’s you,” she said, resting her forehead against his shoulder. To be honest she’d been embarrassed that she’d just kissed him in the disheveled state she was in, having left to see him as soon as she got out of bed, but she felt giddy and… right.

He pulled her in, wrapping his arms around her to hug her tight. “And… it’s you.”

#marinette dupain cheng #luka couffaine #lukanette endgame #soulmarks #fxl fic #lukanette exchange 2020 #lukanette #endgame lukanette

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mxtcha-tea · 3 years

Text

Lines.

✎desc; how I would rate haikyuu character's drawing.

✎team[s]; fukurodani, inarizaki

✎genre; crack

✎language[s]; english

✎chef note; okay, first off, I'm not a professional drawer but I can still rate drawings. This idea just came to me like a minute ago and I had to do it now, so enjoy :)

fukurodani.

Bokuto

Aight, I see that we started off greatly.

In all honesty, he have no idea how to draw,

And of course his drawing would look,,,, quite terrible i'm so sorry bokuto lovers

He's that kid in art class where's when the teacher already told them what to draw,

Bokuto sat there on his chair, staring at the canvas

Like, what is he suppose to do? Draw?

Well, yeah technically but what???

I can totally see him frustratingly erase the sketch if it can be called as a sketch

And then proceed to try to copy other people's work

Keyword; try

It's bad but at least he had an effort to finish it

4/10, there I said it

Akaashi

His drawings are not that professional but it's pretty

Have you ever seen a drawing that you wanted to stare at it for hours until you're satisfied?

That what's his drawing are like

Not typically an art kid so he's fine when student's from his art class asked him to draw for them

And is feeling pretty neutral with his talent (he actually won't call it a talent but more like a hobby or sum)

And just say 'thanks' if peoples compliments his drawing

Let say his drawing is, a good 8/10

A decent drawer in conclusion :)

Konoha

Not a bad drawer but he rather keep it basic

Konoha's prolly too lazy to draw something over the top so he's just gonna draw flower or something ksndnzkj

Sometimes sleep during art class and had to ask what they had to draw

Proceeds to decently draws a scenery

He's totally not the creative kid so whenever the teach tell them to draw something, he'll always go with basket of fruits, like,

Man, I appreciated the drawing but at least put some effort on thinking what to draw

The art teacher also kept telling him that he have raw talent and should enhance the skill more,

But that never happened, no

"Sorry ma'am, I'll just stick to volleyball, thank you,"

One part of the art room has a section of konoha's basket of fruits drawings but in different mediums

Rating is 7/10

Washio

IS actually an art kid and you cannot convince me otherwise

Has a small sketchbook with him and he'll always doodle when he's bored or in a middle of a lecture (while taking notes of course)

His main skill in drawing tho is painting

The colors blends in so well with one another and he's good at picking color palettes

Also, he doesn't really get that annoyed if some kids from his class ask him to teach them how to draw

Or even look through his sketchbook

He'll just nod and hand it to them without a second thought

Ajsjdhsijsi Washio get so blushy when someone compliments his drawing,,,,

I’ll give a 10/10 :), congrats

Sarukui

The best that he can do is doodles of owls and other shits but other than that, he cannot do

But the doodles are kinda cute doe ngl

He’ll have his moment where he’s in class and have no idea what to do, and just doodles a bunch of stuff

Once he draw his whole teammate including his coach and himself, he thought to himself,

“Huh, this looks good,”

And then take a picture of it for memories (cause he might throw the book he’s doodling in away)

Speaking of that, he doesn’t have an official book for drawing and just draws in his english or math’s textbook or sum

His juniors eyes are blessed when they got his textbook

Sarukui just vibes in during art class, draws and that’s pretty much it

The drawings,,,,,eh,,,, not that good, he only specialize in doodling as I said

so in conclusion,

drawing? 2/10

doodling? I’ll give a solid 5/10, good job

Komi

I’m gonna say this and I’m prolly gonna say it again

He hates art class

Like, even with him trying his best to draw, it’ll always gonna look strange than what he planned

mf cannot draw a straight line in art class

This dood can draw a nice straight line in any other class whether it’s for a graph or others,

And then proceed to shakily draw a straight line during art session

Totally not an art kid and will never be one

His drawings,,,,

I’m so sorry but it looks so bad

It’ll prolly look a lot better if he put more effort, but it’ll still look bad no matter what

Komi hates art class and can’t draw even a decent doodle so unfortunately, I’ll have to rate it 0/10, sorry :(

Anahori

His drawings are eh

It’s not good but also not bad?

Sometimes you’ll just stare at his drawing for a good minute and be like, what did he just draw just now?

What I’m saying is that his drawing’s are unexplainable

Maybe if you stare at it a little bit longer then it’ll make sense and you can see the beauty in it

But honestly I can’t really see anything, not in a bad way, but like, literally nothing

You’ll be staring at his canvas as the mario kart rainbow road music started playing inside your head

But Anahori is always proud of his drawings no manner what

So, I’ll rate confusion/10

Onaga

Just like Komi, he sorta hates art class too

But lemme tell ya, his sketches are GODLY, like, have you seen those pinterest hand sketches?

That’s what his sketch would look like

It’s so yummy to look at what

But he sucks at lineart so JAHGSDSHD

Onaga cannot properly hold the black pen and do the lineart, it’ll always turn wonky and he had to throw it away

Like, if he spend even hours tryna outline it all, and then erase it

It’ll look so trash

And he’ll just stare at it for a couple of minutes before crumpling the paper

He’ll also suck at coloring

Mans cannot understand how the color blend in together

And I think I’ll rate,,,,,6/10 just cause he suck at coloring and lineart lmao don’t worry i suck at coloring too

Kaori

Another decent drawer and her drawings are almost the same as Akaashi’s

But instead of it looking pretty, it looks cute

I have a headcanon that Kaori have a journal and does journaling so that’s prolly the reason why her drawings are cute af

But honestly, her drawings sometimes depends on her mood,

If she’s mad or frustrated, her drawing would look kinda rough and not that cute anymore

If she’s feeling happy tho, It’ll look so nice and cuddly does that even make any sense

Isn’t necessarily an art kid but would love to try be one

And she totally have drawing sessions with Washio aaaaaa,

Just imagine both of them sketching in the same sketchbook while talking about the volleyball club or anything else

She’s getting an 9/10 just cause her sketchs looks clean <33

Yukie

She doesn’t draw at all

Like, you’ll never see her drawing at any kind of time so you have no idea what it looks like

Yukie would still attend art class,

But never draws

She said that she’s pretty lazy to draw it and said to draw it at her home later

But no one even saw that drawing after that

Yukie doesn’t show her drawings nor EVEN draw for once

So I technically can’t rate :/

inarizaki.

Ginjima

LISTEN

The only reason why I started with Gin is because he have some amazing drawing skills

He admit that he’s not an art kid but draws godly as if he had been thought since he was a kid,

Well, actually yes

I think Ginjima actually wanted to be a drawer when he was still a little kid way before he started his 3rd year of middle school

So he practiced a few and became a nice drawer since then,

But he kinda quit being a drawer and decided to go with volleyball

And guess what?

His drawing talent is still there

He totally specialize in pencil drawing cause that’s the first thing he started learning

The lines are smooth and the shading are so yummy what is wrong with me

The Miya twins and Suna are so sh00ked when he saw his drawing during art class

ngl he’s pretty smug about it too but doesn’t brag about it

I’ll give this boy 12/10, mwuaah

Suna

I hate this man for this sole reason

Suna is too LAZY to draw so he doesn’t give any effort in his drawing

I can guarantee myself that I’ll get an eye strain when I saw his drawing

And...

*wipes away tears*

He draws too many dick

–2/10

Don’t come for my head Suna lovers

Atsumu

OMFG

OKAY, OKAY, I KNOW THAT ATSUMU MIGHT PUT ON SOME EFFORT IN HIS DRAWINGS,

BUT WHY IS IT STILL SO BAD?????

He’ll prolly think his drawing would look good but no, it’s not

No matter on what perspective you look his drawings at, It’ll still look bad

AND HE DOESN’T EVEN NOTICE IT

Osamu laughs a lot at his drawing and they started fighting for that only reason smh

Atsumu, I appreciate your effort so SO much,

But please, just stick to volleyball

–10+/10

I put a plus there because of his effort and because of pity

Osamu

He draws in ms paint, with a mouse

But he can draw some foods tho

But all of it looks wonky af

1/10

Akagi

A pretty decent drawer

Akagi always draw happy and cute drawings so you’ll also get happy when you saw his drawings

Puts on a big smile when people compliments his drawing and shyly scratches the back of his neck

“Nah, this just look normal!”

But he draws oddly thick lines sometimes

Sometimes it looks good in some drawing

And sometimes it looks, bizzare in others...

But I think his drawing would look nice <3

Overall, I’ll give a,,, 7.5/10, keep up the good work

Oomimi

He’s from class 7 AND I really think that he’ll be good at drawing

Well, he can draw a few things but he struggles drawing other things he never accustomed to

But!

Oomimi is that kid who’s good at drawing scenery

He knows basic color palettes and which is cold and hot colors

So the scenery drawing would always look good

He get a lot of compliments for the drawing (50% of it from Akagi)

I think he doesn’t have that many time to relax and draw freely but when he does have it, it’ll just be small and simple doodles

um, let’s go with 8/10 <3

Aran

I truly believe that Aran can draw peoples face but in a pretty decent amount

He’s also good with anatomy teach me your ways king

But as much as he’s good at that, he kinda sucks at drawing any kind of background drawings

Mans can’t draw a scenery I’m telling you

As if the background doesn’t even exist in his mind lolol I’m sorry Aran lovers, I didn’t mean that in a bad way

Mainly uses copic markers to color and color pencils to shade

The first time he use the copic marker, he got really frustrated that the marker stain the other pages lmao

And he never uses digital drawing applications or softwares

Aran just doesn’t

I think I’ll rate him, 8.5/10

Kita

Okay, I know that Kita’s a top student and never fails in anything

But he’s not typically a good drawer that much

His drawing still got good marks but when you look at it, it just looks normal

I just know that the Kita lovers gonna get me after this

It’s not that bad and not that good, just a nice balance in between

I personally think Kita’s not that godly in drawing but rather a neutral drawer

He draw what he can and does shading and coloring when it’s needed

The colors are all basic colors, no pastel, no neon

And the shadings are pretty basic

Just a normal drawer here

Ya’ll gonna fight me for this but I’ll give Kita’s point,

7/10

#haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu crack #inarizaki #fukurodani #bokuto #akaashi #konoha #washio #sarukui #komi #anahori #onaga #yukie #kaori #ginjima #suna #atsumu #osamu #akagi #oomimi #aran #kita

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beholdme · 3 years

Text

All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 8

Chapters: 8/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can’t help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

“We shouldn’t go in,” Jon tells his giggling partners very firmly, but they pay him no mind, and he gets dragged by the hand into the storefront.

The girl working the front desk looks up with a vaguely alarmed look on her face, probably because Gerry and Martin look drunk, despite it being 11 A.M. on a Sunday. They are not, although Jon can understand why someone would think that, as they march right up to the desk, faces flushed, still laughing boisterously.

“Is Melanie in? She’s a good mate of mine.” Gerry tells the receptionist.

“Yes, I’ll check with her if she has a second for you.” And she scuttles off to the back.

“It’s Gerry!” He calls off behind her, before turning to grin at Jon. “Don’t hover in the doorway, babe, Melanie doesn’t bite.”

“Melanie is in fact, perfectly capable of biting,” Jon mutters petulantly, as he moves further into the room to eye the art on the walls. “Especially when you used to date her girlfriend.”

“Oh look, my favorite emo goth boy!” Melanie yells, exploding out the back of the store, all 5 feet of her filled with frenzied energy. Her face immediately sours when she catches sight of Jon, hiding behind Martin. “And my least favourite douche bag.”

“Now, now firecracker, be nice to my boyfriend.” Gerry pulls her into a hug, which leads to a headlock and a swift jab to his ribs.

“I’m very happy to be nice to Martin,” She responds sweetly, blowing him a kiss. “What brings you lot over to darken my doorstep?”

“Piercings,” Gerry tells her with an unnatural amount of glee.

“Jon agreed to let me pierce him?” Melanie asks, perking right up at the idea of causing Jon pain.

“No!” Jon exclaims.

At the same time, Gerry says, “Nah, he’s not interested, but Martin and I were wanting something each.”

“Martin?” Melanie asks dubiously, eyeing up sweet-looking, pink-haired, cardigan-clad Martin.

“Yes,” Martin confirms with false solemnity. “Boyfriends who bleed together stay together.”

“You know,” Melanie remarks, grinning at them, “I have heard about that Pagan ritual.”

Jon has slunk over to a wall of healed artwork and concept designs, managing to avoid Melanie's barbs. As far as he is concerned, the art isn’t as interesting as Gerry’s work. Although, he supposes that what you can make beautiful on a canvas is very different from what you can make beautiful on someone's skin.

“I’ve got a bit of an opening now, what do you want to get?” She asks Gerry.

“Well, you know I’ve been wanting to have my nipples done.” He offers, teal eyes looking slightly wild.

“Yeah?” She grins in triumph, “I’ve been waiting for this day.”

“Yup and Martin has been considering something for his ears.”

“Hmmm,” She wanders over to Martin to examine him. “Open for suggestions?”

“Maybe.”

“They’re a good shape. Double helix?” She looks to Gerry for affirmation.

“Definitely.” He smirks, eyes lighting up with satisfaction.

"Two?" Martin looks slightly dubious.

"If you do them together, the pain is only a tiny bit more, and the healing time is two-for-one," Melanie reassures him, and Jon thinks it's the nicest she's ever sounded. "It's up to you though, of course."

Jon steals himself to brave the fray, going over to take Martin's hand. It's slightly clammy with the nerves that Gerry's enthusiasm has prevented up until this point.

"It won't be so bad, love." He presses a kiss to Martin's cheek, offering his support. "Just a small jab, then it's done."

"Let's do it."

***

There's a brief fuss with consent forms, aftercare instructions, and payment.

"I don't know what you lot," Melanie instructs Gerry firmly, gesturing between them, "get up to in the bedroom, but no twisting, no pulling, no biting, no sucking your nipples for 12 weeks."

Jon blushes, but Gerry and Martin aren't bothered. "Yeah, firecracker, I know the drill. This isn't my first circus."

"Kinky little shit," Jon mutters under his breath, but the goth only winks at him.

Martin's care instructions are less suggestive, and Gerry and Jon both promise to help him with it.

“Martin should go first,” Melanie pronounces, patting the piercing chair as she disinfects her hands and gloves up.

“Me?” Martin asks.

“Yup, yours will be a lot simpler, and I don’t want to traumatise you by making you watch nipple piercings before your turn.”

Martin climbs on the chair, looking a little pale, but resolute. Jon stands on the side not occupied by Melanie, gripping his hand reassuringly. Gerry stands slightly behind the chair, hand on Martin's shoulder.

The ear piercings are almost comically quick and easy. Two quick pinches, less painful than bee stings, and then Martin's ear is pierced and adorned with small hoops.

He sighs with relief and oh's with delight when Gerry hands him a mirror to check them out.

"I love it!" He exclaims, beaming at Jon and Gerry. They smile back at him, each taking a turn to kiss him on the cheek or forehead, their own relief palpable.

"It's just you and me now," Melanie grins at Gerry and gestures for him to strip.

He shucks off his trench coat and black t-shirt, and stands in front of her, completely at ease.

Jon takes a moment to wonder if he has managed to get himself into a relationship with a masochist. Not because of the piercings, but because Gerry seems to genuinely enjoy being friends with Melanie.

The nipple piercings seem to be a much more complicated process, with markings and adjustments, but several rounds of cleaning and disinfecting later, Melanie runs a metal piercing bar through first one nipple and then the other. Gerry hisses with discomfort but stands carefully steady.

She steps back to make sure they look straight and even, before declaring it a success.

"Nice," Gerry says succinctly, looking in the large upright mirror, nodding his head enthusiastically. He and Melanie high five, and she condescends to grip him in a firm hug from the side.

"You sure I can't tempt you, Jon?" Melanie asks him sweetly as she starts to clean up her station, Gerry putting his clothes back on close by.

Knowing she just wants to cause him pain, Jon tells her firmly, "No, thank you."

He is over by the wall again, looking at different art this time, including a picture of a tattoo that catches his focus. It's a playing card amid a complex arm sleeve, an Ace of diamonds, and despite a lifelong disinterest in tattoos, it speaks to him.

"I think you'd look better with a spade, love.” Gerry manages to startle Jon slightly, appearing beside him and wrapping an arm around his waist. Jon marvels at his apparent ability to read his mind.

“You think so?” Jon queries, softly. Gerry hums his affirmation. “It's a bit much though, don't you think?”

"You don't need the whole card, for what you want. Just the A and the spade. Small and bold." He picks up Jon's hand, indicating the spot below his thumb on his wrist.

Gently releasing it, Gerry grabs a pen and scrap of paper and rapidly draws out a solid, simple design.

Jon glances over at Melanie, extremely dubious. "Maybe we can go somewhere else to get it?" He whispers.

Gerry laughs warmly, tapping the small piece of paper. "I could do it for you myself."

Jon blinks at him, rather owlishly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I can give you the tattoo. I'm probably a bit rusty, but I did survive a full tattoo apprenticeship. I’ve done about a million over the years, although I had to give up my machine when I moved to London."

"You did a tattoo apprenticeship?" Martin asks from nearby, tone skeptical.

"Yup, when I was living in Edinburgh. All three years." Gerry tells them casually. "That's where I met Melanie, actually."

Jon and Martin exchange a baffled look, but choose to simply file it under 'Things Gerry tells us out of order.'

“Well, if you can do it...” Jon sounds a bit floaty but he is staring at the design yearningly, which Gerry knows is a good sign.

"Firecracker," Gerry yells over to Melanie, "Can I borrow your machine?"

***

Melanie makes the stencil while Gerry reacquaints himself with the tattoo gun, setting everything up and getting used to the weight of it in his hand again. The rhythm is always the same with tattooing and he feels himself fall into the past a bit.

When everything is ready, he gestures Jon over to sit in the chair, smiling beatifically.

Jon is shaking a little as he slides up onto it, and Gerry presses a reassuring kiss to his hand before he starts the prep.

"You ready?"

Jon gulps. "Yes."

Martin comes over to take Jon's other hand and Melanie hovers nearby, wanting to watch Gerry like a hawk the entire time he's handling her machine. ("It's the true love of her life," Gerry had confessed to Martin earlier. "Don't tell Georgie.")

Gerry follows the same procedure with any tattoo: cleanse, shave, cleanse again. Numbing cream, in this case, to prevent nerve twitches, then alcohol rub down. Eventually, he applies the stencil carefully, making sure to get it straight and in the correct place.

He checks with Jon, making sure that it is where he wants it. Jon confirms, smiling to see the design on his skin for the very first time.

As the buzz of the machine fills the space, Jon and Gerry make eye contact for a moment. Jon's earthy green eyes are wide, and Gerry can almost see where his pulse pounds through his jaguar vein. He stills a moment, really checking Jon's energy.

He's nervous, it's obvious to see, but Gerry can also see the real desire in him, and with a wink, turns to look down at his new canvas. He sets to work, the buzzing of the needle filling the air.

***

"I love it," Jon whispers to Gerry later, lying in the circle of his arms, Martin's warm weight at his back.

"I love it too." Gerry kisses his forehead sweetly, almost asleep. "Martin, what do you think of your ear?"

"I think boyfriends who commit to pain together stay together," Martin mutters drowsily, repeating his sentiment from earlier.

"Ah, yes," Jon mutters, "The great cosmic bond of suffering."

They laugh easily, the hot excitement of the day echoing within them, yet another thread in the colourful tapestry of their relationship.

#the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #gerry keay #jongerrymartin #fic #also on ao3

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sandalwoodhusbands · 4 years

Text

Boys that marry | 5k words

There’s a new boy living across his nana’s apartment. He’s blond and he’s very small but he has very big eyes. That’s what he tells his nana when he first sees him, tugging at her sleeve to catch her attention, as the little boy rushes out of the apartment across his nana’s with a truck in his hand.

His nana smiles kindly at the woman standing outside the door, who smiles back at her. She nudges Eliott a little, bending down to whisper “That’s Lucas, honey. Do you want to go say hello?”

Eliott nods enthusiastically, because finally, finally he has someone he can share his coloring books with when he’s at his nana’s. Maybe Lucas likes watching cartoons after nap time too! And they can go to the park together, so Eliott won’t be on the slides all alone anymore. He hates playing alone.

“Hello!”

Lucas lifts his head up from where he was rolling his truck on the stairway, and, whoa. His eyes are really blue. Like the sky blue shade in his crayons box. The boy looks at him a little blankly when Eliott thrusts his hand forward, like his papa has taught him to do.

“I’m Eliott.” He beams. “I’m 7, and I love drawing and petting my neighbor’s puppy.”

Lucas stares at him silently, for long enough that Eliott’s smile begins to slip away. Maybe he doesn’t like dogs? Then Eliott doesn’t want to be his friend, anyway. His best friend’s little sister says you can't trust someone who doesn’t like dogs, and she’s very smart.

He’s contemplating turning around, a little disappointed that he isn’t making a new friend today, when Lucas’ face breaks into a wide grin.

“I’m Lucas! I love puppies too! But my mama won’t let me have one…” He trails off sadly, sucking into his bottom lip. “Do you think your neighbor would let me pet their puppy?”

Eliott’s eager yes! earns him an exasperated look from his nana, but it’s so worth it, he thinks, worth it just to see the way Lucas’ face lights up like a Christmas tree at his words.

And that’s the beginning.

***

So it turned out Eliott didn’t have to worry about Lucas’ taste at all. Because Lucas loves coloring, although he goes over the line sometimes and accidentally cracked his purple crayon in half once. And he doesn’t like watching cartoons, but he still goes over to his nana’s every Tuesday and Thursday after Eliott gets home from school, and he lets Eliott touch his hair until they fall asleep in his nana’s big bed. Eliott really likes Lucas’ hair.

The sun is finally coming back after a week of rain. Eliott is excited to go out today, he’s missed playing with the sand, which is what he tells Lucas as he drags the little boy into the street by the hand, Lucas’ mama trailing right behind them.

Lucas laughs behind him, his sand bucket full and rattling loudly when they run towards the empty park.

There isn’t anyone here today, which doesn’t really surprise Eliott, because he has never seen any kids running around here. It used to make him sad, his nana’s eyes full of sympathy every time he would stare at the ground and mumble that it’s okay, he can build a sandcastle without anyone’s help anyway. But he doesn’t care anymore, because Lucas is with him now.

Despite having the whole park to themselves, they plop themselves down on the same spot inside the sandbox. It’s later than Eliott thought, and so it’s starting to get a little dark already. He can't see very well inside the windows of the apartment building anymore, and the wind is cold when it blows on their faces.

Eliott purses his lips, eyebrows knitted together as he watches Lucas, who’s filling the bucket with sand. His cheeks are getting pink from the cold, and he sniffs a little after a big whoosh of wind ruffles their hair, so Eliott doesn’t think twice before taking off his scarf and wrapping it around Lucas.

“Here.” He says, holding both ends of the scarf and wrapping them around Lucas. Lucas blinks, startled, only his eyes peeking out from under the scarf. They’re a darker blue today, like his papa’s car. “So you don’t get cold.”

“Oh.” Lucas’ voice comes muffled, and Eliott has to bite his cheek to keep from laughing. Lucas frowns, looking down at the scarf before pulling it down his chin. “Thank you.”

And then he’s inching closer to Eliott, planting a rushed kiss on his cheek.

Blood warms Eliott’s cheeks, a blush that he feels spreading all the way down to his shoulders. He stares at Lucas, who looks as surprised as Eliott feels, unable to help the giddy smile that splits his face in two.

Lucas rolls his eyes a little, grumbling. “What?”

Sometimes he gets like this, especially when he’s tired or nervous. Pouts around, rolls his eyes at Eliott with a grumpy little face that Eliott finds very endearing.

He just learnt that word at school last month. His teacher explained it to him as “that feeling you get in your belly when you see a little dog in the street”, because his teacher knows he likes dogs a lot, and Eliott had understood. And then he’d realized it applied to Lucas, too.

Eliott shrugs, beaming. “Nothing.” And then, “You kissed me.”

“On the cheek.”

“Yes.” Eliott nods cheerily. “You did.”

Lucas squints his eyes. “So what?”

“Why did you do it?”

Eliott sees Lucas’ cheeks flush under the scarf, and this time it isn’t from the cold.

Lucas averts his gaze, drawing circles in his legs quietly, as if he’s pondering over something, before facing Eliott shyly. “I don’t know.” He mumbles. “Mama said that’s what you do when you love someone a lot lot.”

He looks at Eliott expectantly.

“Oh, alright.” Eliott says. He jumps up from his seat, pressing a loud kiss to Lucas’ forehead in return. “Now we’re even.”

Lucas’ eyes are a little dazed when Eliott sits back again, but he shakes himself out of it quickly, nodding jerkily. “Now we’re even.”

Eliott thinks it’s the end of the conversation as he watches Lucas resume back to his sand filling task, so he does the same. But then Lucas’ voice sounds again, softer than before, and Eliott has no choice but to listen carefully.

“Mama also said,” Lucas starts. “She said that those people, they get married, if they love each other a lot lot. And then they can live in the same house, and get a dog.”

“That sounds nice.”

Lucas nods. “It does. And… And boys that marry, they don’t have to leave their nana’s houses before dinner. So they don’t have to miss each other when they’re gone.”

“Lucas,”

“And they can also nap together forever, and color books until they run out of them.”

Eliott sets his eyes on Lucas, waiting patiently until Lucas returns his gaze. And when he does, Eliott says in the most serious tone he can muster, “Then we'll get married, so I can stay with you every day.”

“Promise?”

Lucas’ eyes are brimmed with hope, his face lit up with joy, and there’s a feeling inside his belly that isn’t endearment, he knows that much, because it’s warmer, and nicer, and he doesn’t really understand, but he makes a mental note to ask his teacher about it tomorrow morning. Now though, he has a promise to make.

He lifts his hand towards Lucas, hooks their fingers together, and squeezes. “Promise.”

When they have to go home, it’s dark out, and his parents are waiting for him at nana’s. He makes sure to squeeze Lucas extra tight before he disappears behind the door, sad that he has to leave again, and asks his parents if he can sleep over at Lucas’ next weekend. His parents say yes, and he makes them call Lucas’ mama the next day so he can tell Lucas himself.

When he asks about the warmth in his belly at school, his teacher calls it love.

***

There’s a boy in his bed. He’s no longer blond, but his eyes are still as bright as they were when Eliott saw them for the first time. His body is a familiar shape under the covers, the blanket draped over their laps draws the curve of his waist, and his face is illuminated by the laptop between them.

Things have changed now, but they also haven’t.

They haven’t, in the way that Lucas still sleeps in his bed more often than not. In the smell of his clothes, and the softness of his hair when Eliott buries his nose in it. It feels like nothing’s changed, because they’re still Lucas and Eliott, and Eliott still draws for Lucas, and Lucas still shoots daggers at anyone who dares cough in Eliott’s direction.

At the same time, everything’s different.

They’re not kids playing pretend anymore, for once. Actions have consequences now, they’ve both learnt it the hard way. Lucas stays at Eliott’s house, in Eliott’s bed, and this time it’s not because they’re allowed to watch cartoons until dinner, but because his mama throws vases against walls and screams at Lucas when he gets home from school. Eliott draws for Lucas, and it’s not the color of the sky that reminds him of Lucas’ eyes, but the words that he can’t quite figure out how to say out loud.

Everything’s different.

They can reach the bottom of the mattress with the tips of their toes. Lucas drinks beer at parties, and when it turns his cheeks pink and his smile bigger, Eliott feels warmth in his belly, but also between his legs. Sleepovers still have shitty movies, but it also has a joint or two, and when Lucas’ sleeping shirt rides up one inch, Eliott’s mouth goes dry.

And Eliott is bipolar.

But Lucas didn’t leave, so it’s different, but it also isn’t.

“This movie is shit.” Lucas says off-handedly halfway through.

Eliott is honestly surprised it took him this long to comment on it. He doesn’t have the energy to muster up a good argument, a little because nothing he says will save the movie from being absolute trash, but mostly because today is the first day he felt strong enough to shower.

He feels bad about having Lucas here with him. Eliott doesn’t know what time is it, he lost track of time days ago, so now it’s only “moments Lucas is here” and “moments Lucas isn’t here”. Despite all predictions, there’s been a good amount of Lucas is here moments.

Eliott had tried to stop him at the beginning, because it’s summer, and no 16 year old boy should be wasting away his summer afternoons in a smelly room with the curtains drawn closed, an empty boy sleeping in the middle of the bed.

Lucas had only glared at him before taking his shoes off, curling his body against Eliott’s quietly when he got in bed. Eliott hadn’t showered in five days then, but Lucas hadn’t seemed to care when he had kissed his forehead before burying his words in Eliott’s hair.

“There’s no such thing as wasting my summer away, as long as I’m wasting it with you. That’s enough for me.”

And now they’re here.

It had been Lucas himself the one who insisted on watching a movie, taking Eliott’s laptop from the desktop and clicking on what Eliott thinks was a random choice before laying down in bed with him.

Eliott knows Lucas doesn’t expect an answer, he never does when Eliott is like this. Still, he turns his body towards Lucas, a twitch of a smile playing in his lips. Lucas doesn’t turn to look at him, engrossed in the screen in front of them, frowning like the movie has personally offended him.

He knows Lucas does it because he knows how much the attention can drain Eliott. Eliott loves him so much.

“Seriously, Eli. Are you seeing this?” Lucas gestures wildly. “He thinks that just by marrying her he’s gonna solve all of her problems? Like, what, now that she has a ring around her finger her mother will magically love her? That’s bullshit. This whole idealized marriage illusion is bullshit.”

His words make Eliott’s eyebrows shoot up. He sits up with his back leaning on the bed’s headboard.

“You don’t wanna get married?” His voice sounds a little hoarse when he speaks, so he reaches for the glass of water Lucas had left on the bedside table earlier.

If Lucas is surprised by Eliott's interaction, he doesn't show it. He shrugs, eyes still on the screen.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” His words sound final, bitter. “I mean, look at my mama and dad, right? What does marriage even mean? A promise written on paper, a promise of what? Commitment? Love? A mutual decision to keep each other company until the next best thing comes along? 51.2% of marriages in France end in divorce. Everyone wants to get married, but no one ever knows what promise they’re making.”

“Wow.” Eliott breathes “That’s deep.”

Lucas huffs, and the laptop light shines on the small smile on his face. He turns. “You?”

In different circumstances that stare would’ve made his heart beat loudly against his chest. As it is now, he feels a faint beating in his fingertips. “Maybe.” He says slowly. “It would be nice.” And then, “Boys that marry get to adopt puppies, right?”

Eliott sees how Lucas’ expression turns softer, the corner of his lips turning up slightly as he stares at the hands fiddling in his lap. He’s beautiful like this, in a room full of darkness, wearing one of Eliott’s t-shirts, smiling down at his hands from something that Eliott said.

Eliott’s insides twitch with fondness.

“Boys that marry get to adopt puppies.” Lucas agrees in a murmur, almost like he’s saying the words to himself. He’s quiet for a minute, a minute that Eliott uses to lay down again, almost certain that the conversation is done for today, when he faces Eliott again. “Hey, Eli?”

Eliott closes his eyes. “Yeah?”

“I think that,” Lucas pauses, “that if it was a boy marrying me, maybe I would like that.”

Eliott hides his smile on the pillow, and then he’s saying “me, too.”

He hears Lucas’ sharp intake of breath.

“But Lucille…?”

“I don’t care about that.” He shrugs. “Gender.”

“Oh. That’s chill.”

He hears the lid of his laptop being closed off, and then there’s a weight next to his head on the pillow that wasn’t there before. He wriggles closer to Lucas wordlessly until there’s an arm around his waist.

“Do you like any boys?” He can’t help but ask, although he thinks he knows already.

Lucas doesn’t flinch when he answers. “Yeah, I think I do.” He plays with the hem of Eliott’s shirt. It’s comforting, the gesture lulling Eliott to sleep. “You?”

There’s a dead weight in his limbs, and the sleep tugs at him from behind his eyelids, but he wills himself to stay awake enough to answer.

“Same.”

Lucas doesn’t kiss him then, but his hand sneaks under Eliott’s t-shirt. His fingers draw colorless hearts on Eliott’s hip, and neither of them moves.

It’s okay. It isn’t their time yet.

***

It’s three months later, when the color has returned to Eliott’s face and laughter hurts his sides, that their time comes.

They were at a party, the fourth one in the past four weeks, because Eliott is new at school, the mysterious third year that is one year older than everyone, and Lucas is adamant he socializes. So partying every weekend it is.

Eliott doesn’t really mind. He can’t drink much anymore, and Lucas only drinks one or two beers now, to show his support. He says he doesn’t need to get drunk to have fun anymore, now that Eliott is here with him. He’s the sweetest boy Eliott knows.

So it’s okay, because Lucas’ group of friends is nice to him, and although they’re here so Eliott can make friends Lucas doesn’t detach himself from his side all night.

Walking home, their pinkies had been intertwined together between their bodies as they stumbled around a little in the sidewalk, not because they were drunk, but because Lucas would separate them as far as their hold would allow them, before tugging at Eliott’s arm, making him collide against his side.

It was cold, a dark October night, when Eliott’s loud laugh had echoed through an empty neighbor as Lucas almost walked into a streetlight. And Lucas had stopped to watch him, as Eliott laughed and laughed, before he’d taken two long strides towards Eliott.

Cupping his cheek, he had said, “I’m so in love with you, you have no idea.”

And then they had kissed.

“You think you’re so cool, huh?” Lucas says into his mouth now. They’re in Eliott’s bed, like every other Saturday, except Eliott gets to kiss him any time he wants now. “Eliott Demuary, public vandal and mysterious art boy who posts cryptic shit on instagram,” Eliott laughs under him, squeezing his hips, and Lucas grins. “When in fact he’s a dubstep dork who just wanted to post a picture of his boyfriend sleeping?”

Eliott shrugs unapologetically, beaming up at Lucas. “You love it, admit it.”

“No,” Lucas denies. He has stars in his eyes, and his hair flies everywhere when he shakes his head. He places one hand on Eliott’s collarbone, bending down until their noses touch. “I love you.”

“And I love you.”

Lucas’ eyes turn into crescent moons when he smiles, and he brushes the tip of his nose down the bridge of Eliott’s. “I love you more.”

“Impossible.” Eliott whispers. He presses a soft kiss to Lucas’ lips, then to his cheek, tilting his chin up, scattering little kisses all over Lucas’ face.

Lucas giggles, tucks his chin to his chest as Eliott’s lips tickle the side of his face, a sound high and so beautiful that he hopes the neighbors heard, just so that they know how happy he makes this boy in his bed. How happy they make each other.

Eliott’s hands smooth down from Lucas’ waist to his thighs, and he laughs when Lucas pushes his face away with his hand, licking it in the process.

Lucas sits on Eliott’s stomach, looking down at him with a disgusted face. “You’re disgusting.” He states, drying his hand on Eliott’s t-shirt. Eliott grins lazily, blowing him a kiss, and it only takes a wriggle of his eyebrows for Lucas to roll his eyes before he’s gripping the front of his t-shirt, pulling him up. “You’re a disgusting, smug little shit, and I hate you.”

Eliott wraps his arms around Lucas’ middle, pulls him closer to his chest, pressing his grin against Lucas’. “You lying, liar who lies.”

“Whatever.” It isn’t his strongest comeback, but the heels digging into Eliott’s back makes up for the lack of words.

Eliott smiles amusedly, tightening his grip across Lucas’ back, his fingers tucked under the waistband of Lucas’ underwear. Lucas returns his smile, a lot more wickedly and knowingly, heat in his eyes as he loop his arms around Eliott’s neck, and slots their lips together.

It’s a back and forth of mouths sliding together, Lucas playfully nipping at Eliott’s lower lip and Eliott brushing his tongue across the roof of Lucas’ mouth in response. Lucas twists his head, and his bottom lip catches between Eliott’s teeth, making them both gasp.

“So you say boys who marry can get a house together,” Eliott pants. Lucas presses his thumbs under his jaw, and Eliott’s eyes flutter closed. “But what’s the package for boys who kiss?”

Lucas pulls away enough to look at Eliott in the eye, tip of his tongue peeking out of his mouth when he smirks.

“I can think of a few things.”

The hurried kiss that Eliott gives him makes Lucas laugh into his mouth, and then they’re falling, falling, falling, tumbling down the bed in each other’s arms.

It’s the best morning Eliott’s ever had.

***

It’s meant to be an innocent question, Eliott knows.

They’re on the other side of France, celebrating the summer solstice under the moon. There’s a big blanket under them, a chair that Yann had insisted on bringing digs into his back if he leans backwards, and the sound of the waves crashing in the shore fills the silence.

It’s starting to get a bit chilly, but still warm enough in the way summer nights are, so they don’t really need a jacket. Still, Eliott buries himself in Lucas’ side, planting a kiss to Lucas’ neck before hiding his face in the crook of his shoulder. He feels Lucas’ laugher against his cheek, and smiles to himself contently.

Arthur turns off the flashlight on his phone, because he’s running out of battery, but also because the moonlight is enough to shine light on their hand-made cocoon. It’s a quiet night. Small talk, quiet chattering that Eliott isn’t paying attention to, a joint being passed around the group.

Every time it gets to Lucas, he takes a big hit before passing it over to Yann behind Eliott’s head. And then he tilts Eliott’s chin up, coaxing his mouth open with two fingers to his jaw, before exhaling the smoke in his mouth. Because he doesn’t smoke much these days; this way he doesn’t overdo it, and Lucas is a very considerate boyfriend.

Lucas’ breath taste sweet in his mouth when their lips brush together, and his tongue is playing with Lucas’ when Yann speaks.

“Why aren’t you two married yet?”

Eliott whines when Lucas pulls back to stare at Yann, and it takes him a second to register the question.

When he does, he’s already come up with very reasonable arguments to explain how Lucas isn’t done with school yet, and they don’t even have the economic stability required to organize a proper wedding right now. That him and Lucas, they had decided from the first day that they’d take life minute by minute, and they’re comfortable with the status of their relationship at the moment, when Lucas looks at him, a glint in his eye that never fails to set his blood on fire, and says

“Yeah baby, why aren’t we?”

Eliott chokes on the smoke in his lungs, like a fucking amateur. Lucas rubs his back until he stops coughing, and no one comments on it.

When he turns to look at Lucas, and he’s sure he must look like a lunatic, with the way his heart is threatening to beat out of his chest, Lucas only shrugs happily, wrapping his arm around Eliott’s shoulders again.

“I’m just saying,” Yann continues “that you two are the most in love motherfuckers I’ve ever met. It’s actually embarrassing to see, it’s been what, 5 years? And every time I see Lucas puppy eyes when Eliott is standing across the room gives me second-hand embarrassment.”

“I’m surprised they haven’t tied the knot yet.” Basile chips in. “Or maybe they have! Did you get hitched and never told anyone? That’s harsh, man.”

Eliott doesn’t need to look at Lucas to know he’s rolling his eyes.

“No Bas, we didn’t get married and told no one.”

That conversation ends there, everyone moving on to other topics like how much would it cost to fill a pool with water balloons, and Eliott stops paying attention after that. Instead, he lifts his head up from Lucas’ shoulder.

He stares at Lucas’ profile, at the shadows his eyelashes create on his cheekbones, and the slope of his nose, and the little dimple that appears when the corners of his mouth raise slightly, and he can’t help but press his lips to Lucas’ cheek.

Eliott snuggles back against Lucas’ shoulder when Lucas’ smile widens, satisfied, and lets Lucas grab his hand. He pulls it on his lap, turns it over, running his fingers up and down his palm. Then he’s brushing Eliott’s fourth knuckle slowly, and Eliott smiles harder.

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe they don’t need the money or the jobs, as long as it’s Lucas standing at the end of the aisle. He thinks about calling Lucas his fiancé, his husband, and maybe Eliott is starting to be a little less okay with the status of their relationship.

Much, much later, when the world starts to get brighter, and they’re walking back to their airbnb, Eliott pushes Lucas against a streetlight. Lucas tilts his head to one side curiously, but doesn’t ask any questions, cupping Eliott’s hips.

“So you wanna get married, then?”

A ray of sunlight falls on Lucas’ smile. “Gotta get that dog you promised me 15 years ago, don’t I?”

“I’m pretty sure that was all you, baby.”

“Still.”

“So we’re doing this then?”

Lucas bridges the distance between them, kissing him softly. “We’re doing this.”

“Okay,” And then, “By the way, if you think this counts as a marriage proposal, you’re wrong. I’m gonna woo you so hard you’ll cry. Just you wait.”

Lucas only laughs, loud and hard, and he knows he would call Eliott a sap and say it’s scientifically impossible, but Eliott swears the street turns brighter after that laugh.

***

In the end, it comes down to the same place where it started.

They’re on the way back to his grandma’s, like every other Friday afternoon. Lucas’ mama doesn’t live there anymore, and it used to make Lucas flinch every time they passed his former apartment, at the beginning, just after they had taken her to the facility.

He’d cry in Eliott’s arms when they got home, drowned by his own guilt, for not helping her more when he should have, for a lot of things, and it took him a long time to understand it was never his fault. But eventually, he got there, and now his face is only lit up by a grin when his grandma greets them at the door. They’re smitten with each other, it’s adorable to see.

So they’re walking down the stairs in her grandma’s apartment building, and Eliott is so nervous he’s afraid his knees will give in under him, so he grips the railing until his knuckles turn white and hopes Lucas doesn’t suspect a thing.

Knowing Lucas, he probably does.

And when Lucas is stopped by Eliott’s hand grabbing his, Lucas only smiles indulgently.

“It’s still early.” Eliott swallows past the lump of his throat. “How about we go check out the park we used to go to when we were kids? It’s been a while since we were there last time, I bet I can still last longer than you on the monkey bars.”

Lucas’ eyes crinkle at the ends. He watches Eliott wordlessly, holding his gaze, and there’s a million unspoken words in his eyes that leave Eliott breathless.

But then he’s letting go of Eliott’s hand-

And he runs, screaming a “race you!” behind his shoulder.

Eliott laughs breathlessly before running after him.

His legs are longer, but Lucas is faster, so in the end it’s a bit of a tie. He bumps their shoulders together playfully, and Lucas grins at him with a childish look in his face.

“You fucker.”

Lucas hums.

“That’s not a way to treat your boyfriend.”

Eliott shakes his head, walking towards the sandbox. He sits on the wooden edge, watching as Lucas does the same, and nudges their knees together.

“You used to be so sad every time I had to go home with my parents.” Eliott recalls fondly. He takes Lucas’ hand in his. It’s cold, because even after all these years Lucas has never mastered the talent of dressing himself accordingly to the weather. “Do you remember, when we’d sit here for hours, and we’d build castles of sand together?”

“I remember.”

“And then one day you told me, that boys who married could nap together forever.” It comes out soft. Lucas squeezes his hand, and he feels a wet tingling sensation in his eyes. “Because you didn’t want me to leave, so I promised you we would get married, and then I’d never have to leave again.”

He hears a sniffle, and lifts up his head to see a lone tear falling from the corner of Lucas’ eye. Lucas smiles sheepishly when Eliott moves his free hand to catch it, nuzzling into his palm.

“And then ten years later, when you told me you didn’t want to get married, I think my heart broke. But then you said that you wouldn’t because you just didn’t get it, and that’s when I understood. Lucas,” Lucas' mouth parts, another tear falling down his cheek, and Eliott’s eyes fill with tears at the image. “Lucas, you had to grow up too soon because of a marriage that had fallen apart, and for that I’m sorry. You said you didn’t understand marriage, because what does it mean, anyway? A promise? What promise?”

Lucas’ smile turns wobbly, and his eyes are the shade of the sky blue crayon in his crayons box again, and Eliott’s hands are shaking as much as his own voice.

“Here’s my promise: I promise to nap with you every day, for the rest of my life. I promise that I’ll be there, after a long day, or a long night, a hungover or the flu, I’ll be there, waiting for you, and we’ll fall asleep together.” He slips off the sandbox, digging his knees into the sand. He swallows at Lucas’ sharp breath when he grabs the ring box from the pocket of his jacket. "So Lucas Lallemant, the boy across my grandma's hallway. My best friend, and the love of my life. Will you marry me?"

And then Lucas is laughing hysterically with tears in his eyes “God fucking damn it Eli, you're holding the box the fucking wrong way."

Eliott looks down, finding the ring facing him instead of Lucas, and despite of everything, he laughs. "Oh, fuck."

He laughs, and Lucas laughs, because they’re ridiculous, and it’s imperfect, and it’s them.

He fumbles with the box, rearranging it with the right way. Lucas is still laughing a little, and he’s fucking gorgeous, even with red eyes and snot covering his face, he’s the love of Eliott’s life. "Take two: will you marry me?"

"Of course I will." And then he’s sliding inside the sandbox with Eliott, nodding, clutching at Eliott’s jacket. “Of course I will, is that even a question? Of course I will, always.”

And Eliott thinks,

Eliott thinks, that this is the easiest promise he's ever made.

#<3 #skam france #elu #elu fic

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