#so tempted to just split this fic in two so i don't have to think of a bridge between the two parts lmao | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thesherrinfordfacility · 9 months

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LWA here: I don't take the lockdown video as canon, as it's just too obviously a PSA. I do think there's more to be said about Crowley refusing to hear Chekhov's gun going off in the aftermath of S1, although that may be because I've now back-buttoned out of far too many supposed "fix-fics" in which Aziraphale has to abase himself before his much-abused demon. (Folks, they are equally to blame to the miscommunication pileup at the end! The yin/yang, single-character-split-in-half thing always manifests itself by them simultaneously botching things in their relationship! We are shown and told this explicitly! WTH?!) This is my own sequel to endlessly back-buttoning out of fics for S1.

I guess I'm one of the three or so people on the planet who got to the end of S1 and said, wait, there were two unambiguous betrayals during the course of this season, both related to trust issues, and unless they're discussed and resolved you cannot extrapolate a successful relationship out of this ending. Aziraphale betrays Crowley's faith that their friendship is different by not telling him about the Antichrist; Crowley betrays Aziraphale by manipulating him like /everyone else manipulates him/ by tempting him to kill first Warlock, then Adam. And there was a start to acknowledging the first during the bar scene, but there is no sign in the script that Crowley apologizes, mentions what he did, or even feels badly about it.* Fan attempts to excuse the manipulation usually repeat Crowley's own justification for the act at the park bench, but the script, via Madame Tracy, insists that "you can't kill kids" is a moral absolute. Crowley, and Aziraphale for going along with him, are in the wrong, end-stop. That was just such a massive stickle-burr for me in terms of conceptualizing how Crowley actually sees his own power in relation to Aziraphale's, and this season concretized that they are both suffering from trauma-related superiority complexes that they act out in ways that deny each other agency (Crowley by concealing information from Aziraphale about Heaven & Gabriel, then attempting to demon-handle him back into damsel-in-distress mode; Aziraphale by still being stuck in binary thinking patterns and offering Crowley a redemption plot he doesn't want).

*--I've seen exactly one analysis-in-fic-form that refuses to let Crowley off the hook, "Auguries of Innocence" (https://rainjoyswriting.dreamwidth.org/241857.html#cutid1), written by someone with experience teaching ethics. I think the author makes Crowley much too self-aware about what he did, but her conclusions about why he might be unable to bring himself to apologize are pretty plausible.

sliding this under a cut:

awesome, that's what i was kind of hoping someone would agree with me on (re: lockdown), mainly because from the feeling of the plot in s2 (plus the contextual characterisation already discussed about aziraphale's ability, vs surrender of his will, to protect himself/crowley's compulsion to overprotect), it felt rather extraneous of the canon narrative in retrospect. it felt like a fun, quirky PSA in isolation, but i didnt want to automatically discount it as not having its place in the story either if it indeed had one! so, im glad someone else was thinking what my gut was saying - that it is likely to be the former.

i get that many people are hungry for some kind of comfort following s2's ending (completely understandable), but i can't currently bring myself to read any fanfiction that follows the events of s2 because of this exact reason you've mentioned. frankly, i personally find it a little too uncomfortable that the resolution seen so far - in general terms, there are well-written exceptions - is for aziraphale to metaphorically prostrate and punish himself for the whole breakup, especially when i personally felt pretty much since ten minutes after finishing ep6 that there was more to it than aziraphale seemingly wanting to change crowley "into the angel he wants him to be", and rejecting him when he wouldn't. it's way more nuanced and complex than that. and every time i rewatch that scene, it feels so obvious that they are speaking words that on the surface fit together in terms of dialogue, but they are saying completely different things.

i love a misunderstanding-leads-to-angst trope, it's one of my favourites, and the way the dialogue was written in this scene to have so many interweaving and contradicting layers and meanings was a profound and immersive depiction of this. ultimately my end impression (until a point we get an actual Conversation in s3 that discusses these exact points) of the scene is that:

- aziraphale will always think he should and could do better and be better, even at the risk of sacrificing everything including crowley, and do so with only the greater good in mind... no matter if the greater good doesn't truly exist in the way he hopes or expects it to (and therefore is completely immaterial), and:

- crowley will always continue to keep and bury aziraphale in his own rage and pain, drawing him back in whenever aziraphale shifts to step outside of it, and do so because it's a constancy that has thus far worked in giving him purpose and a sense of being wanted.

there's way more to it than that, but those were the immediate first impressions i got. they may love each other endlessly, beyond understanding, and that's wonderful; but love alone is not enough to sustain a relationship of any kind. there has to be trust, yes, but also mutual respect, support for each others' true wants and needs, and a sense of wholly knowing yourself (even the things you wish you could change, or you dislike) so you know what you are giving to the other person. my perspective on being in a partnership is that your heart is no longer just your own, it becomes the other person's too - if not more - and you have to be someone that can be entrusted with it. neither of the characters give me the impression of having really learnt this yet, and have demonstrated on multiple occasions, including the ones you mentioned, that they haven't.

having a read of what you linked, this is exactly along the lines of why i think crowley doesn't want to recognise, or cant recognise, what he did in tempting aziraphale and manipulating him on the occasions that he did... because what would happen if he did accept it? and opened up the pandora's box that is bringing aziraphale's attention to it? how would aziraphale ever see crowley the same way again? id love to say it was the same lines along which i was thinking when i wrote the below re: saviour complex, but is far more insightful and eloquently put:

and also here, when talking in response to another ask of yours about I Forgive You:

essentially: that if aziraphale were to know why crowley does what he does, did what he did, if aziraphale received an explanation and a genuine apology for it, would crowley only be met with benevolence? or would he be genuinely forgiven in a way that is actually meaningful to him because it comes from aziraphale the person, not the angel? the latter would be too much to bear, i think. the irony however is that in not giving his shortcomings air, taking them out of the locked box he's crafted to hide them, he's occasioning further opportunity for misunderstanding between them.

trauma in whatever form is not a valid excuse to project that trauma onto someone else. it can be empathised with, but not excused. again, as always, at the risk of human-ifying two supernatural beings, it is entirely human to fuck up and do so, it's going to happen - that you hurt someone you love by keeping them in your pain. but it can't keep happening in a never-ending cycle, and has to have a breaking point that all parties actively learn from. this ground, them acknowledging having any feelings for each other, is brand new for them to tread on, but when it comes hand-in-hand with having millennia full of trauma, shame and pain, they also need to tread very carefully.

#i truly would give my life for LWA✨ but their asks do give me migraines and a sense that im not as intelligent as i think i am #good omens #ask #flashback meta #crowley meta #aziraphale meta #s1 meta #s2 meta

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mazoie · 1 year

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Happy New Year's!!

I wrote an iruazz fic just for new year's, since i'm so generous it's on my A03 (Android_User) as 'Flowers in the Night Sky' :D i'll put it here too cuz why not (there will be a sequel btw)

"Oh, come on Azzy dear, let your mother come with you!" Amaryllis complained. There was a school event going on, as well as parents being encouraged to join. Alice dreaded whenever the invitations reached her.

"Mother, I've expressed very clearly that I'd like to keep this affair classified. I don't need you messing up my plans." He groaned. Although his words only seemed to make Amaryllis more ecstatic. She poked at him in a playful manner, now wearing a familiar condescending, grinning look.

"Huhu, what kind of plans do you have in mind, Alice?" He could feel the haunting energy radiating from his mother as shivers ran down his spine.

Alice flustered, turning away, "They're not important. I'm just going there with Iruma-sama."

His mother laughed at her son's reaction, "Oh, but alright," Amaryllis sighed in fake despair. She wished she could cause mischief with the 'Iruma' that he spoke of so often, but that time would sadly have to wait. "Go have fun, dear." Alice who was already out the door, waved goodbye and began flying to Babyls.

'I was almost forced to bring her along...I've got to be more careful. For Master Iruma's sake.' Alice resolved, arriving at the school. He couldn't see Iruma in the sea of demons, until he saw the shine of bright blue hair shouting his name. Excitement filling him to the brim, Asmodeus went over to him. He was sitting at a picnic table, and likely inviting him to sit as well.

"Heya, Azz!" Iruma greeted with a smile, patting the spot across from him. "Hello," Alice bowed, returning his grin and sitting, "I hope you weren't waiting long, Iruma-sama."

The boy sitting opposite to him shook his head, "I only got here a few minutes ago, it's really fine," He cringed, remembering something. Alice noticed, taking on a sympathetic look. "Are you feeling alright?"

Iruma shook his head, smiling wearily. "I'm fine, don't worry. Grandpa made me use the carriage, heh. So I'm pretty early."

Alice nodded, internally smiling to the mental image of Iruma arriving in a carriage flustered, using his school bag to cover his face. "What do you wanna do first?" Iruma asked, looking around the bright festivities around him. It caught Alice off guard, so he had to think for a few beats of silence.

"I—"

A loud bang erupted, interrupting the two. "Looks like they started the fireworks show," Iruma laughed dryly. The pink-haired demon nodded, tempted to share his inappropriate smile. The festival was supposed to last until midnight, since school would resume the next day at 6am. It made Alice nervous, since Clara said she wouldn't be able to come earlier that school day. On the inside, he was ecstatic.

"I suppose so," Alice smiled brightly. Iruma's stomach growling made them look in the sky for a second firework, before looking at each other for less than a second and bursting into laughter.

"Sounds like you're hungry, Iruma-sama. How about we go to some of the food stands?" Alice suggested, getting up.

Iruma nodded, smiling. "Food sounds good!"

They walked to and bought out almost all of the food-related stands there were at the festival before Iruma was full, enjoying themselves each step of the way. The shorter male tried to help get Alice over his fear (in his words, 'disdain') of fish, to no avail. He tried feeding him some of his grilled salmon he'd gotten earlier, to which Asmodeus declined almost straightaway.

"Apologies Iruma-sama, but I don't think I should..." Alice laughed, Iruma joining soon after.

As they saw the different attractions, they slowly grew apart, deciding to split apart to see separate things and go report back to the other as soon as demonly possible. 'How noble of Iruma-sama, not being afraid to take charge in seizing what he wants! Oh, how I'll miss him.'

Alice wandered the stands by himself, uninterested.

He skimmed past stands with games and events he'd much rather do with Iruma than by himself. Shooting games, fishing games, devidol-inspired games and such. Eventually, he strolled down an alley—much to the dismay of his instincts. Alice's boredom was truly getting to the best of him.

He'd probably subconsciously wandered down this specific alley since as Alice crept closer, he began to hear voices from further down. 'Weird,' he thought to himself, growing cautious.

Alice Asmodeus decided to go check out two hushed voices in the back of a dark alley late at night.

"Gaap--like--" So Gaap is here? Who's talking to him? He scooted closer.

"Sorry, I just--love--" And closer.

"I--too, Agares--" Agares and Gaap? So it's the two of them. He finally neared the corner, being able to hear their full sentences.

"I'm glad. I, uh, it's embarrassing but I thought you didn't like me back." Wait...what?

"Don't worry about it! Though, I wonder what made you think to tell me here." Alice decided to leave, since it wasn't his business. But seeing the two confess to each other...

Now he had a plan.

"Hello, Iruma-sama!" Alice greeted, waving him over. "I hope you've been enjoying yourself! Is there anything else you'd like to do here?"

Iruma nodded, beaming. "Do you think the fireworks show is still going on? It sounds like a lot of fun, and we heard it earlier! I hope we didn't miss it." He rambled, unknowingly going just as Alice had hoped.

He put his hand on his chin briefly, to give the impression he was thinking. Although it made Alice feel bad that he had to lie to Iruma, he knew it was for the greater good. As he was startled by distant booms in the sky, Alice took Iruma's hand and started searching for a good viewing spot.

"Azz, what, uh, what exactly are you doing?" Iruma asked, being dragged across the school grounds.

"Apologies, Iruma-sama, but I have something important to tell you," He paused, feeling himself flush as he realized the severity of what he was actually about to do. "And I need to say it...privately. If you don't mind."

Iruma stayed silent the rest of the walk, sending Asmodeus mixed signals. He didn't know about the butterflies stirring in the shorter male's stomach that dried his mouth up and clogged his throat. 'What is he trying to say?' Iruma thought to himself, biting the inside of his cheek.

"...We're here." Alice mumbled with his eyes unintentionally closed, fidgeting with his red fingernails. After opening his eyes again, he saw Iruma staring at him with big, expectant eyes.

Alice melted.

"Now, the thing I wanted to tell you-" He stuttered, almost jumping at the sudden noise of a firework blasting off and interrupting him. Asmodeus tensed as he opened his mouth to continue speaking, but when he saw the glittering excitement in his eyes while watching them bloom, he relaxed.

'This is a pretty extensive firework.' Alice thought offhandedly. An idea popped into his mind, making him all the more embarrassed. 'With the next big one, I'll just get it over with. Saying it to him without him hearing would put me at ease, at least for a little while.'

Before he knew it, a gigantic firework lit up where they sat, as well as the sky. Alice took a deep breath, and prepared himself.

"Iruma-sama, I," He pushed the words out, no matter how flustered he'd become. "I like you. I admire you so much, and for a long time, I've always thought that it's gone past the lines of friendship. I know that you probably just think of me as your, uh, friend, but I just wanted you to know that I'm in love with you, Iruma-sama."

Unexpectedly, a red-in-the-face Iruma turned to him, seeming speechless. His mouth opened and closed repeatedly, fishing for the right words to say.

"Azz, I—"

He was interrupted by another bright flower, blossoming in the night sky.

#asmodeus x iruma #iruma x asmodeus #asmodeus alice #mairimashita! iruma kun #m!ik #gay #agares x goemon #goemon x agares #archive of our own #fanfic #wholesomeness

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archangelmacaron · 1 year

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NTMF College AU Chapter 5ish

I still haven't thought of a title ("College AU" is very tempting, but no.) Knowing at least three people are reading is definitely making me write like my fingers are on fire. :D I guess it doesn't take much to encourage me because the first time I got a comment on my fics I was so excited I almost threw my phone (still unsure why that was my reaction, but...) I had started writing what I thought I'd like to read and was so surprised to learn other people wanted to read it, too. So thank you as always for your support!

Noel had expected to wake up with the hangover of a lifetime. Instead, she felt warm and rather content, without the splitting head pain she'd expected. She let out a soft sigh, snuggling under her covers more—then her forehead bumped into something unusual beside her. Her eyes shot open. Blinking blearily, she saw something black and covered in fabric, which moved slightly. Her eyes shot fully open.

Th—that's a leg! A leg!? There's someone sitting on my bed?!

“You're finally awake, I see.”

“Wh-wh-whatwhat—mmph?” A large black hand clapped over her mouth before she could find the wherewithal to scream. Red eyes in a pointed black face glared down at her.

“Be quiet. I'm assuming you don't wish your roommate to know of your visitor. Summoning is still illegal in Lhaplus, is it not?”

She shook her head hurriedly in response to the first comment, nodding at the second, and the devil slowly removed his hand as she sat up, slowly remembering what had led to this situation.

“I presume you recall the events of last night?” he asked, crossing his arms and looking down at her a touch arrogantly.

“Ah, for the most part, yes,” she replied, glancing around her room. “I um, certainly do not recall inviting you into my bed—“

“There's nowhere else to sit in this mess!”

“Y-you could have moved the papers on the bench—“

“What bench?”

Noel looked at the piles and boxes of sheet music and textbooks next to her two keyboards, completely concealing the furniture underneath, then sighed. She really had let her room get out of hand. “I apologize. I must state again that I wasn't expecting a visitor...”

“Well, you have one now.” He looked a bit cranky.

“I apologize for being a bad hostess,” she said, pursing her lips and not feeling particularly sorry. A thought hit her. “Wait... did you simply... w-watch me sleep all night?”

He gave her a withering look. “Of course not! I was reading, not staring at you. Be less arrogant about your body, this is the second time you've implied someone like me would have any interest in something like that!”

“Like that? And arro—wait, what were you reading?” Her mind switched tracks halfway through as she looked at the item in his other hand.

He held up a green leather bound book. “This.”

“Wha—!” His hand slapped over her mouth again as she almost shrieked, muffling it. She glared at him until he removed it, hissing, “You read my diary?”

“Oh, I see, it's a journal. That explains why it was rather boring.” He tossed it back on her bedside table.

“Bor—I'm sorry, but my life is not your entertainment—“ She cut her words off as she heard Jillian's door opening, and her roommate's soft footsteps walked into the kitchen. She let out a small sigh of relief that Jillian had not decided to check on her just yet, glancing at the devil on the bed next to her with a pained expression. This would be... difficult to explain...

The devil slowly lowered his hand from where he'd prepared to clamp it over her mouth again, staring at her doorway with narrowed eyes. “When do your roommates normally leave?”

“Um, Jillian has her part time work at noon, and Spica, if she's returned at all, will probably be asleep until at least three. Jillian will definitely wish to check on me beforehand, however, since I was quite drunk last night.” She paused. “And yet, I do not seem to have a hangover...”

“I don't think Spica has returned yet. I didn't hear your door open again. When she does, she'll probably make her first action looking for your corpse.” He turned back to her. “As for the hangover, I took care of it.”

She blinked. “You did? How? No—why? We did not agree on a contract as of yet—“

He seemed smug again. “Oh, we did. You've already forgotten?”

“Eh? When?” She stared at him suspiciously.

“You don't remember? When you stumbled in here after your late night chat with your roommate, you were still a bit lucid. I held your hair back as you threw up. As you were scrubbing your mouth out, I asked you if you agreed to my unstated terms, and this time you said yes.”

Her face flushed as she pictured herself vomiting as he stood there in his formal clothing, with his large black hands holding her hair up. The image made her feel like sinking into the ground. How utterly humiliating—but more importantly!

She glared at him. “I—I was clearly blacked out! That's coercion!”

He shrugged. “I'm a Great Devil. I don't care.”

“Well—well you should!”

He ignored her spluttering. “Anyways, the short of it is that I've decided to help you with this little mystery. Where do you want to begin investigating?”

Noel swallowed the rest of her complaints, letting out a huff. She had a strange feeling that he wasn't being entirely truthful, but she'd simply have to trust that he wasn't going to harm her—if he had wanted to, the previous night would have been the perfect opportunity—there was no need to wait to claim a price. Instead, her hangover had been cured, she'd been neatly tucked in, and he seemed to have sat at the edge of the bed near the window the entire night—reading my damn journal!—but still, it was relatively gentlemanly behavior, all things considered. She wondered why he hadn't slept. Maybe devils didn't need to... or maybe her room was too messy for him to find a spot.

She touched her chin thoughtfully, setting the subject of her new companion aside to focus on the larger problem in her life. “While I have been targeted, it does not seem to be me personally they wish to eliminate—rather, as you said, 'Noel the pianist' is in danger, and it must be because of the ceremony. They tried to remove me from it subtly, but must have been surprised by my stubbornness, and so a more drastic attempt to silence me was made. I find it very likely that I was intended to die last night.”

By your hands, she thought, glancing over the devil again. He looked back down at her, unaware of her thoughts but still looking as calm and shameless as usual. Shouldn't I be more afraid? I've heard that devils are very strict about contracts, but I have no idea what the actual terms we agreed to were. And yet, I don't feel like I'm in danger right now... Will I be, later?

“We can safely assume it's because of the ceremony. It seems unlikely anyone would have another motive to kill you. You seem to lead a rather boring life.”

She blushed again as she thought of him reading her diary. “That—that's not your concern!”

He ignored her as he continued. “Having died while dealing with a devil—you would not be a particularly sympathetic figure, as that is both illegal and considered morally abhorrent in Lhaplus. It's unlikely your motives for doing so would truly be examined.”

She nodded. “No one would have any reason to think it was a set up. It would be dismissed as the actions of a woman in a jealous rage for losing out on a prestigious appointment.”

“Precisely. An easy and complete explanation that leaves no questions.”

She looked down, a sad expression crossing her face. “Yes... Other than Jillian, I don't have many close friends. She's likely the only one who would stand up for me and search for the truth.”

And in doing that, she would also be in danger... I truly hope I can leave her out of this.

The devil had raised a brow, looking down at her. She was struck again by how much larger he was than her—her single bed barely fit her alone, and he seemed to be sitting on it quite awkwardly. He was so out of place in the messy room—his elegant suit was certainly at odds with her plain blue duvet and striped sheets. “Again, I must state that you seem remarkably calm about this, even without alcohol in your system.”

She gave him a complicated expression, her hand unconsciously touching one of her prosthetic legs. It seemed he hadn't taken them off when putting her to bed, which she was grateful for—he'd have needed to partially undress her to do so, and she'd dealt with enough embarrassing moments for a lifetime in the past twenty four hours. “I—I suppose that since I've already nearly been killed once, it is not as bothersome as it might be to others.” As for why I am not afraid of you... even I cannot explain that!

The expression he gave her in return was even more complicated. “I read about that. It was only last year, around this same time?”

“Yes.” She looked away from him briefly to hide the emotions the accident brought up. “I was also projected to be the ceremonial pianist back then, but I had to drop out before even half the semester had passed because of the accident.”

“Accident.” He gave her a pointed, dubious look. She frowned.

“I know the timing is rather suspect, but it was a drunk driver who died on impact. Besides, there would have been no need, we hadn't even been given the music for finals yet and while many predicted it would be me due to my skill and family name, it was still not a guarantee. Arranging something so elaborate, and killing a man, based solely on a 'maybe' seems completely unreasonable. It's surely unrelated to what happened last night.”

“Hmm.” She could tell he didn't agree and was surprised but relieved when he didn't press the subject. “We can agree that the likely motive is to eliminate the talented ceremonial pianist, and replace them with one who is not capable of performing—or perhaps can be manipulated into not performing the ritual correctly; and doing so in a way that is unlikely to draw any attention.”

She nodded, then paused. “Do you think that the other runner ups might be in danger as well?”

“Doubtful. It was only your piece that was switched, correct?”

“As far as I know, yes. But Ribellio is known to not be a talented player, let alone more skilled than all of the class! I cannot imagine that no one else would look into things because of that alone.”

He shrugged. “Either way, that's not your problem. If someone else dies, we'll have an idea of how far they'll go, or if all their focus will be on you as the main threat.”

She frowned. I suppose that's the devil's morality there, but... I do not want anyone else to be harmed.

He looked at her sideways. “Given all that, what do you think our next steps should be?”

She had a feeling that he already had a solid idea of what to do next, but wanted to see if she would suggest the same thing. She carefully thought a moment longer before speaking.

“I suppose researching the ceremony itself would be a good start. If we can find out how and why they wish to sabotage it, and why I--well my skills, in particular, are a danger to that plan, that will be valuable information.”

He seemed pleased. “You'd mentioned archives at the university library. We can start there.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “We won't be able to get into the truly forbidden books, of course, but there should be plenty of information that is not classified. It is Saturday, so the library will close around five PM. I should get there before—“

He shook his head. “No, you'll want to go after it closes.”

She tilted hers. “Why?”

“Did you forget that someone just tried to kill you? It's likely they'll try again once they realize they have failed.”

“Wouldn't going out in the public in daylight make it safer? It seems unlikely they would try anything with witnesses about!”

He gave her another sideways look, lifting his head slightly. “What time did the car hit you? Were you alone in the street?”

He already knew the answer if he'd read her diary. A devastated expression crossed her face at the cold questions. She closed her eyes to hide it, pulling her hand into a fist against her chest and swallowing the nausea. She could almost hear the noises in her head again, the squealing tires, the sickening crunch... “I... it was early afternoon. But that wasn't... intentional...”

“Doesn't matter,” he said dismissively. “My point is, humans can die at any time. However, if you go out at night, you'll have me.”

“Have... you...” Why is my face flushing again? That's right, we did discuss that just a little bit last night... he'll definitely be able to protect me.

“I can't very well accompany you in public during the day, now can I?”

Noel thought about casually walking around campus with a nearly seven foot tall devil beside her. That would certainly not go over very well. “Ah, n-no, no you couldn't!”

“So, let's plan for nightfall. When's sunset around here?” He pulled out a pocketwatch.

“Um, about five thirty, I believe.” Her brow furrowed again as she thought about breaking into a university building. “I have not participated in a crime before.” Well, other than underage drinking in high school, I suppose. I do not think I will ever drink again, now!

“Crime? Oh, breaking and entering, right? Don't worry. We won't be caught.” He slid the watch away, giving her another arrogant expression.

She frowned. “You seem awfully confident.”

“I am,” he said, once again sounding—and looking—quite smug. “I'm a Great Devil. This will be easy.”

“Right...”

Let us hope that those are not famous last words!

#fanfic

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galactic-pirates · 11 days

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Yet Another Ask Meme: 4, 18, 36

Thanks for the ask!! :) :)

4) Do you have any OCs? Do you have a story for them? Oh sure lots. One's I'll admit to? Actually this is me and I have no shame about it so also many haha. I don't generally write OC's. They get such a bad rap that I save those particular imaginings for the stories I tell myself when I can't sleep, rather than ones I type up and post.

However, there is one exception that I just could not resist. I gave Jenkins a boyfriend in my and the Sins of Atlantis fic. Mordred. I don't know why maybe I just didn't like him having been lonely for two thousand years. I tried not to write it but I had such feelings about it. I... ok one day there will be (hopefully) a novel series written by me as a Camelot retelling. I have over 50k written towards it already (none of which was in that fanfic). I know, I know, Camelot has been done to death but hey there's a reason the Arthurian myth has been around for hundreds of years, it captures the imagination. If I want to write my take on Arthur's heroic death, and the uncrowned King Mordred and the Knight who would have ruled by his side, if Galahad's father hadn't broken the kingdom, then why not?

Admitting to sources of inspiration is probably not wise but I find OC's aren't a bad starting point for creating original works. Mind you the same can be said for fanfic "what if" as well. So long as pretty much everything about it changes in some form before the final version - well inspiration has to come from somewhere.

18) First, second, or third person? Third, always and forever. I have attempted to write first in exercises but it's not how I naturally think. From day one when I started writing it was always in third. I mostly only read third too. I will read first as I don't discriminate when I pick books up. However, I think I'm probably more likely to DNF a book written in first. I think I'm less forgiving or less used to it's foibles I don't know.

36) How do you come up with fic titles? What's the one you're most proud of? Answered here

(in recompense for not answering have another one. I was tempted to ask "Describe a fic that almost happened, but then it didn't." for you but oh merlin so so many and how to choose which to ramble about? I'd be here all week...)

20) Do you work on a single project or many at the same time? How does that work for you? Back in the day I used to have several WIP's going at once. Even then that wasn't the wisest as I got discouraged by what felt like slow progress (as my progress was split across projects rather than concentrated).

These days I have less spoons and I'm not really even mentally capable of doing more than one thing in a day. I would love to be able to write and draw in the same day but I can't seem to make it happen.

Anyway, I find I can't swap and change at all really now. So I focus on projects one at a time. For example I'm doing the Librarians gift exchange and I've had the assignment for weeks and weeks but I only started it last Monday. I spent March focusing on my novel and I regret all my life choices for that because an exchange deserves a quality product that takes ages to make (because I've had weeks to work on it) and I'm terrified it won't be done in time for the deadline. But I had to choose and I started drafting in January so the novel kinda came first. Anyway, I haven't touched the draft since I finished it, and I won't until the art is done.

It really is sad I can't balance better :/

#I answer things #sam talks writing

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wishmemel · 6 months

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high school sweethearts, ft. fushiguro megumi

synopsis: you’ve known megumi, nobara, and yuuji since freshman year of high school, but it's only recently that you and megumi have started realizing that your feelings might run deeper than friendship (that is, if either of you have the courage to make the first move...) tags: megumi x f! reader, non-curse au, this might be from megumi's pov idk, friends to lovers, all fluff, all characters are about 17, reader is an older sibling, megumi being his usual reserved self, reader is more bubbly, definitely self-indulgent (reader is a sanrio lover), probably ooc but this is just for fun, no beta reader so let me know if there’s any errors cw: i don't think there are any? please let me know if you spot anything, i'll add it! wc. 5.9k posted: 22/10/23 a/n: i've been working on this fic forever and i didn't think i was going to post it at first tbh... most of my fics stay in the drafts but i spent a little more than 2 weeks on this so i thought why not. also, yes, i know you can't legally drive a car in japan at 17, but we will ignore that for the sake of the fic!

Megumi chewed his lower lip, feeling the weight of the necklace stored in the lower pocket of his black backpack.

He and Yuuji had stopped by a comic book store before school started at the latter’s insistence—Megumi had already stopped by yesterday and picked up the copy he’d wanted in secret, stashed underneath his pillow—so he’d split from Yuuji and made his way to the Hello Kitty Shibuya store a few feet down. He didn’t want his friend to see the romance mangas that he was interested in, and he’d already spent most of his allowance on the two copies he’d bought yesterday. He didn’t want to be tempted any more.

Stepping into the store, dressed in all black, heavy eye bags present, his hair unkempt and spiky, he must have frightened the employees, but they’d done their best to greet him with a cheery smile and welcomed him inside. Megumi had pulled down his snapback and wandered around, wondering what he was doing flipping through a rack of cinnamoroll earrings.

By the time he was at the front counter, ears red, using the last of his allowance to buy a pink heart-shaped necklace of My Melody, he was convinced that he was insane. It was the last one on the shelf and it was… expensive, to say the least. He almost put it back on the shelf after seeing the price, but he hesitated, your sweet smile flashing in his mind. To see you rave and gush about him buying this necklace for you, which was supposedly out of stock everywhere online… Well, he really wanted to see your smile.

The employees at the register giggled over his flushed expression and prodded him about who he was buying it for, when he would give it to you, if you were already his girlfriend or if you were just a friend. They wrapped it in a pink box with a white satin ribbon and he left the store with the tiny amount of dignity he had remaining, his ears brick red from dodging all their suggestive questions.

He hardly remembers stuffing the box deep in his backpack, underneath a spare sweater he keeps in his bag, and rushing over to the manga store with his hands in his pockets, nonchalantly waiting for Yuuji outside as if he’d never left.

They’d walked to school together, chattering away: well, it was mostly just Yuuji talking. Megumi listened, but that was the way he preferred it.

He couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever been labelled talkative. Even as a child, Gojo, his guardian, had complained about Megumi’s blunt and silent nature. Yuuji didn’t mind the silence—it just meant that he had a chance to talk. Nobara despised it—she was always rolling her eyes or pressing him about one thing or the other. When it came to you, you liked the comfortable silence. You didn’t feel the need to fill it with conversation, and even when you did, it was because you wanted to, not because of some awkwardness that you felt between the two of you.

The two boys met up with you and Nobara, both of you bleary-eyed and early at school for once.

The two of you had this awful habit of staying up late and talking on the phone to get your homework done and then waking up hours after school had started, practically missing your first period classes.

Megumi and Yuuji used to wait outside the gate for you two in the beginning, but now they knew you too well and usually headed inside, talking at Megumi’s locker. On the off chance that one of you arrived on time, you knew exactly where to find them.

“Where were you two?” you asked, tilting your head to the side with a confused scrunch of your brows. “We looked for you at your locker, but you weren’t there. Nobara and I actually got to school on time! Aren’t you proud?”

Despite your weariness, your makeup was always done to perfection, uniform ironed and straightened, hair silky and shining underneath the scorching sun, so Megumi always thought you looked good.

It was just recently that you had started looking beautiful instead of nice and seemed more funny than even his best friend, Yuuji.

“Megumi and I ran to the comic book store,” Yuuji said, eyes lighting up with excitement. “I got the one-hundred-fifteenth edition of Human Earthworm. Basically, in this edition, Worm Man falls in love with this woman, but there’s a catch! She’s also half-worm, but she’s a worm from the top half of her body and the bottom half—“

“Itadori,” Nobara barks. “It’s too early in the morning for your SuperWorm stories.”

Nobara glares at him, looking like she hadn’t even had time to do her makeup.

Yuuji peers at her. “You look kind of… sick.”

Nobara’s eyes flare with uncontrolled rage and she leaps on Yuuji’s back, wrapping her legs around his waist as she pulls at his pink hair. “Do you want me to kill you?”

Megumi sighs while Yuuji laughs and dodges Nobara’s advances. You just giggle, your arm brushing against Megumi’s, though he wonders if he’s the only one who notices the warmth of your skin on his.

The bell rings, startling them, and Nobara slowly unlatches herself from Yuuji. You bound over to her and fix her hair and she allows you patiently.

“Good?” she asks, checking her phone’s reflection.

“Good?” Yuuji mocks, patting down his own hair.

“You both look hot,” you affirm, giggling at Nobara’s murderous look. You tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and check your phone. Your expression brightens as you glance over at Megumi. “Megs and I have Chem together first. We have a lab today, remember?”

He doesn’t return your smile, mostly because he’s starstruck at the sight, but nods slowly to let you know he’s heard.

Nobara groans. “Yuuji and I have Gym first,” she gripes.

You snort, flicking her cheek. “I don’t want to know why you would ever decide to take that class.”

“It’s not bad or hard,” she defends, but then she puts her fist up and grits her teeth. “But there’s this really stupid teacher who always picks on me for being a woman. He thinks I’m slower ‘cause I have a vagina and that makes me want to pull out his hair.”

“And he hates me because he always says I’m cheating during our run,” Yuuji complains. “It’s not my fault I’ve trained a lot!”

You laugh again before bouncing over to Megumi and wrapping a hand around his bicep. “Let’s go,” you insist. “We have to get the seat at the back before Miwa gets there again! Last time, she took my spot and she knows it’s my spot. I always sit there!”

You drag him with you, calling your goodbyes to a stunned Yuuji and Nobara, the two aware of how much Megumi hates physical touch. They wait, watching for their friend to remove your hand, but he never does. The two exchange nervous looks as they follow you through the front doors.

You’re sitting on a large boulder, your back to him, as you listen to Yuuji and Nobara’s insistent speech. He can almost imagine your confused look: your eyebrows scrunched, lips pouty.

The three of you haven’t spotted him yet, nonchalantly strolling towards you, hands tucked in his pocket, but even at this distance he can hear what the pair are telling you.

“You cannot touch Megumi,” Nobara insists. “He hates being touched.”

“The last time I tried to hug him, he squeezed my wrist so hard I thought it’d break,” Yuuji points out, cradling his arm. “He hates physical touch.”

Megumi sighs and rolls his eyes.

Just when he’d started getting close to someone, his cursed friends had to interfere. Even if their intentions are in the right place, can’t they mind their own business? He isn’t exactly the people-pleasing type: if he’s letting you touch him, it’s on purpose.

Both Nobara and Yuuji share exactly one brain cell, he thinks.

“Oh… really?” Is he imagining the hint of disappointment in your tone? “Ah, I didn’t know. Okay… I’ll try to keep my distance from now on. Thanks for telling me.”

“What are you three talking about?” he asks, stopping at your back.

You still as his leg brushes against your back. You tilt your head back, meeting his eyes with a tentative smile. He’s awestruck all over again, like every time you flash him that smile.

“You,” Nobara answers truthfully, taking his attention off of you.

Yuuji elbows her and laughs awkwardly. “She’s kidding. W-we were talking about Human Earthworm 5! Yeah, Human Earthworm. Obviously. I told them we should go see the fifth—“

You roll your eyes, watching him take a large step over the boulder to stand next to Yuuji. “I don’t know why they’re lying. We were just talking about where to go for lunch. Yesterday, Nobara and I got to pick and we went out for sushi, remember? We thought you guys might have a preference today.”

“That’s what we were talking about,” Yuuji affirms quickly with a painfully bright smile. Megumi isn’t so awestruck at the sight.

There’s a collective moment of silence; they’re all holding their breath, waiting for his answer.

He looks at you. You give him an innocent smile, blinking, and he finds it slightly frightening how easily you can lie to his face like that.

“Okay.” Megumi shrugs, accepting your words. “I’m in the mood for tteokbokki,” he says, despite his lack of allowance, if only to change the topic. He remembers Yuuji salivating over the thought of the street food yesterday in Math class, even after lunch.

“There’s a place near here that has corn dogs and tteokbokki,” Nobara mentions, checking the Maps app on her phone. “It’s a five minute walk.”

“I want tteokbokki with a boiled egg,” Yuuji announces eagerly.

“Tteokbokki is best with egg,” Nobara agrees. “Wanna share?”

“I want the whole egg,” Yuuji warns.

“You can spare me half,” she insists. “I want it too!”

“If we want to go, then we should go now,” you interrupt. “We only have thirty minutes left.”

Both Nobara and Yuuji start bickering over their order and you take that chance to sneak a quick glance at your phone, frowning at the recurring texts you’ve been receiving.

Megumi looks to you, eyes catching onto the worried crease between your eyebrows. You put away your phone at his watchful gaze.

“Sorry,” you say, feigning a smile. “Let’s go.”

He nods, wondering if he should ask you why you had that concerned look in your eyes. But Megumi isn’t good at words; he always stumbles and trips over them and can never quite get his thoughts out properly, unlike you. He’s always admired the eloquent and seemingly veritable way you speak, even when you lie. You’re always able to put on a mask.

He’s not so good with words, so in a rare display of bravery, he resorts to offering you his hand, as if extending his heart to you. His ears turn red as he looks away from you, realizing that Yuuji and Nobara have stopped arguing long enough to watch.

You blink uncertainly, then beam up at him and take his hand.

Your hand is warm in his and much much softer than the callouses that roughen his. Often, you offer him hand lotion in Chemistry and he hasn’t the heart to refuse you. You squeeze a dollop of the rose-scented cream in his hand before doing the same on your own. He gets the pleasure of watching you beam as the two of you rub the lotion into your palms. As a result of your generosity, his hands have been feeling softer than usual.

You thank him for the gesture and he just shrugs, bumping shoulders with you as you enter the address into your Maps app, trying to avoid the awkward atmosphere in the air.

“We can get two eggs,” Nobara attempts, to break the tension.

Yuuji agrees immediately with no argument.

The jewelry box feels especially heavy in Megumi’s bag.

When the three of you reach the restaurant, Yuuji and Nobara immediately fight over who’s paying for the extra eggs. Nobara insists that it should be Yuuji who pays because he should be the one paying penance, while Yuuji wants to split the cost in half. The two of them bicker a little more, embarrassing you and Megumi in front of the cashier before they place their order, and then continue to do so while taking a seat at a table for four.

You just sigh and muster your brightest smile to make up your friends. Megumi hovers closely behind you as you place your order, feeling slightly protective of you in front of the handsome male noting your order.

The man is tall, maybe taller than Megumi himself, and he has this air of easiness that Megumi instantly dislikes. What, with his eager grins and frequent winks sent your way, it’s clear that he just can’t—won’t—take a hint. His name tag reads Haru, which has many many meanings, but the one Megumi decides on is sun. He’s overwhelmingly sunny, much like Yuuji. But while Yuuji’s is a natural sunniness, a disposition that comes easily to him, Haru has this overbearing nature, like when he leans over the register to take your cash and purposely lets your fingers brush his. He has these charming chocolate-coloured curls and he keeps brushing them out of his big, dark eyes. Even through his instant dislike, Megumi can’t help comparing himself to the man.

He keeps wondering: Is this your type? Would you be interested in someone like this, so sunny and bright, almost as much as you are?

“A mozzarella corn dog with cinnamon sugar and the small tteokbokki, no egg,” you’re confirming, cutting through the jealous haze that is his thoughts. You glance back at him, finally taking his attention off of Haru. “Want anything?”

“Naah, I ate earlier,” he says with a shake of his head, sidling closer so that your back brushes against his chest. You startle slightly, but don’t move away. Haru’s smile falters a little. Megumi wants to stick his tongue out at him petulantly like a little kid who’s just won a game of rock, paper, scissors.

Somehow, Megumi can tell you see through his lie, likely because you’ve been with him for almost the entire day, but you don’t argue and he quickly pulls out his phone and distracts himself with the Weather app so that you won’t suspect him further.

A forecast of rain, he notices, startling.

He usually stores an umbrella or two in his bag because he knows you never bring one—it doesn’t rain as often as you’d like, but even when it does, you enjoy the water soaking you to the bone. Megumi usually watches you, Nobara, and Yuuji splash in puddles, his black umbrella already opened up to keep him dry. When the three of you get tired or cold, you can count on him to lend you one, and you often plaster yourself to his side, getting his clothes wet as your teeth chatter underneath the umbrella.

His fond expression breaks when you nudge his shoulder and the two of you make your way to the table where your friends are already seated, Nobara sitting cross-legged on the seat to face Yuuji, hands waving about animatedly.

“You know, you were checking that guy out for an awfully long time,” you tease with a cheeky smile.

Megumi’s mind doesn’t put two and two together. In fact, he feels like it might be short-circuiting. “What?”

None of what you’re saying makes sense to him—isn’t it so obvious that he’s interested in you?

“You know, Megs, if you’re gay, you just have to tell me,” you say solemnly, trying not to let your face crack. “I’m sure Nobara and Yuuji will also support you. Nobara likes girls, and, besides, that’s what friends are for. We’re here for you, even if you’re into the douchey cashier.”

“You thought he was douchey?” he blurts, the only thing that his brain seems to process.

“So, you are gay!” you exclaim, slapping your receipt onto the table where Nobara and Yuuji are sitting. They jump at the thump sound the receipt makes on the table, their conversation interrupted.

“Fushigoru’s gay?” Nobara asks skeptically with a raised brow as she turns around to face the two of you. An amused smile plays on her mouth. “I knew it. I called it first!”

“I said it first!” Yuuji protests. “Remember when he punched Kai in the face and I said that he did it because he thought his was was just too pretty to—“

“I’m not gay,” Megumi snaps, cheeks on fire. “And I don’t like Kai!”

You stifle a giggle, sliding your receipt in Nobara’s direction. “I got a corndog and tteokbokki. We can share.”

Nobara scans the receipt with a raised brow, letting Yuuji read off her shoulder. “Another phone number?” she teases slyly.

“What?” you and Megumi blurt at the same time.

Megumi snatches the receipt from her freshly-manicured nails and his eyes widen in horror at the series of numbers that are, indeed, printed at the bottom in black pen next to a winky emoji. Beside him, you cringe and Megumi crushes it up in his palm and shoves it into his pocket.

He raises a brow, sliding into the booth, and asks, “Did you want that?”

You shake your head almost immediately and follow after him, sitting across from Nobara. She taps the side of your sneaker with her own and you look her way long enough to see a mischievous glint enter her eyes.

“You’ve just been collecting phone numbers left and right, haven’t you?” Nobara sings, wiggling her brows at you to break the silence. “Quite the player, aren’t you?”

“This is the first number I’ve gotten all year,” you protest, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “You know that—you guys are always with me!”

“What about the guy at the vending machine yesterday?” Yuuji asks.

“Kai?” you ask in disbelief. “He’s not—We aren’t—”

Megumi blurts, “Kai asked you out yesterday?”

You groan aloud, burying your face in your hands. “No, he didn’t! He just expressed his interest. I told him I didn’t like him and we left it at that.”

And here Megumi was thinking that the guy had learned his lesson—It was true that Megumi had punched him in the face, but not for the reasons that Yuuji predicted. If Yuuji had truly heard what Kai had said about you, he wouldn’t be nearly as lax with his teasing remarks. And, fine, it was true—Kai did have somewhat of a pretty face and Megumi did have this tiny inkling that Kai had feelings for you, but he’d done his best to ignore that small, jealous whisper and tuck it aside. He never imagined that Kai would act on his feelings.

Maybe Megumi hadn’t punched him hard enough.

Megumi removes his snapback and places it on the table, rubbing the material between his fingertips to soothe the burning in his chest.

Yuuji raises an eyebrow, a mischievous smile playing on his mouth. He looks like he’s about to make another unnecessary comment, but he’s interrupted by Haru, the cashier, serving them their lunch on a long, silver tray.

You make eye contact with him and suddenly regret your decision to sit on the outside of the booth when he smiles at you for long moments while serving, explaining each and every dish with precise detail to you and only you. He flatly ignores your friends and keeps his eyes locked onto you, even while serving—you’re half afraid he might drop something that way. On the positive side, he knows exactly what he’s talking about—each dish, each flavour, each part is explained down to a T.

You know more about canned Coca-Cola now than you ever have in your entire life. Who knew that the drink used to contain cocaine before 1929? Not you. But you’re thinking you could use some right now to get out of this awkward situation.

On the negative side—Yuuji is stifling his laugh, Nobara looks like she might explode any moment now, and Megumi… Megumi is glaring daggers at the man who ignores the icy look and continues his long-winded speech.

You break eye contact and try not to roll your eyes as you lock gazes with Yuuji across the table. He gives you a knowing look, pressing his trembling lips together to hold in the laughter that dances in his eyes.

He seems to be saying this is all your fault.

You just sigh, a smile tugging at your lips. “I’ll pay for your eggs," is what you mouth back at him.

Yuuji’s smile widens and he makes out, “Deal!”, right back at you.

Haru has only just moved on to explaining how tteokbokki is made in their kitchen when Megumi tucks his black snapback onto your head, bringing it down to cover your view. He opens his mouth to argue but is interrupted by Nobara who snaps, “I think we know what we ordered. And Chef doesn’t seem like it’s part of your job description.”

The silence that befalls the restaurant makes your face burn hot with embarrassment. You sigh and cover your face with your hands, wishing a hole would appear in the floor so you could crawl into it, roll around, and just die.

Megumi is not sure whether to feel grateful to Nobara for speaking up or annoyed because he was going to say something first.

Haru mumbles, “It’s not. I’m a server.”

“I think we can handle it from here,” Yuuji coughs awkwardly.

“Thank you,” you mutter under your breath, nudging Megumi with your knee.

“Thanks,” Megumi repeats tersely, unpleasantly reminded of the existence of social etiquette.

“Men take a hint,” Nobara mutters, glaring at Haru’s retreating back. “Level: impossible.”

You snort under a breath and point a set of packaged chopsticks at her. “And you made fun of me for rejecting Kai. He also wouldn’t take a hint and was incredibly insistent—I mean, what kind of guy waits outside of class for you every. single. day. after you reject him?”

Nobara slides her tteokbokki in her direction, seeing as how all of the dishes are placed in a spot advantageous to you. You give both her and Yuuji a pair of chopsticks, then push Megumi’s smaller tteokbokki dish towards him.

“Megumi and I wait outside your classes for you,” Yuuji points out, breaking apart his chopsticks with a skeptical eyebrow raised.

Indeed, Megumi is frozen, awaiting your response with bated breath.

Do you find him creepy or weird when he waits for you? He’d always thought you might appreciate having someone to walk to your classes and chatter with, especially when Nobara isn’t around. He hadn’t considered the fact that you might think of him as a creep…

“You and Megumi don’t count,” you insist, glancing at him with your brows furrowed. “We’re friends. It’s different. Kai would bring me a different flavoured chocolate each day and deliberately hand it out in front of a group of guys that are known to gossip. He’d make these stupid comments, put his hand on my shoulder, and act like we were dating.”

You unwrap a set of chopsticks, snap them in half and offer them to Megumi who takes them with a troubled look.

“Stop it,” you argue, nudging his leg with yours. “I already told you: I’m uncomfortable when Kai does it. You guys are my friends—it’s not any different than when Nobara waits for me.”

“Preach,” Nobara says solemnly, shoving another rice cake in her mouth. Yuuji startles and protests at the fact that he’s been too busy conversing with you to even have a bite, but Nobara just sticks her tongue out at him petulantly.

So now he’s being compared to Nobara, Megumi sulks. He’s not sure which is worse—being likened to a creep or to Nobara.

You nudge him with your elbow this time, shooting him an effortless smile. “Come on, cut out the whole protective older brother thing. I can see it in your face. Nothing happened, Megs.”

Megumi starts, then just nods, though he hadn’t been thinking of Haru. Unfortunately, your words do nothing to ease his mind.

Now you’re referring to him as your older brother… He can’t say he’s not used to it, but… he doesn’t want to be your older brother, nor does he want to act like one.

Nobara smirks. “Yeah, Megs, listen to your—”

He kicks her shin from across the table and her eyes blow wide. “Hey! You didn’t do anything when…” Nobara’s train of thought is cut off when Yuuji elbows her. She settles for glaring at Megumi with a look that says I’ll get you back.

Megumi looks indifferent to her nonverbal threat as he takes the first bite from his meal. Seeing him eat spurs you into action and you open up the container with your mozzarella corn dog.

He knows you see Nobara as a fun, sister-like figure: someone you can laugh with, go shopping with, and call whenever you need advice, gossip, or a pick-me-up. With Nobara, your time flies by in seconds, the two of you always busy giggling and laughing on FaceTime.

You see Yuuji as a younger brother: someone to indulge and take care of, especially because Megumi doesn’t humour him and Nobara bickers with him day and night, much like a sibling would. You ruffle his hair when you’re pleased with him, making him beam, and you graciously tag along to the movie theater with him when a new Human Earthworm movie is released, since he and Nobara staunchly refuse whenever Yuuji pleads.

So, maybe Megumi’s role has been predetermined from the start. He’s always been overprotective of his friends and he nags like a mother hen, especially when it comes to you. Whenever you text him that you’re going out, accompanied with a few pictures, asking him what to wear, he always makes sure that you have your location on, your ringer on, that you aren’t on silent mode, or you haven’t muted his texts. He makes sure he knows exactly where you’re going, when you’ll be back; he makes sure his phone is always nearby so he never misses a text from you, in the rare case that you might message him to pick you up. After all, he is your group’s designated driver. He figures you might need him once in a while.

He chews his rice cakes slowly, trying to ignore the burn in his chest. He glances over at you, busy in conversation. The three of you are used to his frequent silence; you don’t take it as odd anymore, nor do you press for him to join the conversation. You all know he’ll speak up when he wants to.

Is he overbearing?

Actually… he’s not unlike you, in that sense.

You’re the first to remind Yuuji, as always, that he’s left his phone in Megumi’s car, or his books in the classroom, or that his hoodie is in his locker, as always, but you’d picked it up for him because you knew he’d forget. Before he can even tell you that he’s lost his pencil for the third time this week, you’re pressing one into his hands with a skeptical eyebrow raise that asks, anything else? He’s like a little puppy that you look after when no one else will.

With Nobara, he’s seen you often calling her when she’s alone in a taxi and she texts you that the driver is being weird. You stay on call with her, purposely raising your voice loud enough for the driver to hear you ask repeatedly, “Where are you? When are you getting here? We’re all waiting for you.” You always wait on her text that tells you she’s reached home safe before your shoulders loosen and you feel some of the tension leave you.

Before Megumi goes out, you’re over at his house, fussing over his clothes (the same ones he wore a day ago), his hair (that never seems to settle, no matter how much gel or hairspray you use), his face. You pinch his cheeks, tell him to go wash his face again because he still looks half-asleep, toss him a rose-scented lotion tube, straight from your bag, and insist that he keep it. You completely baby him.

And when the four of you go out for lunch, more often than not, it’s you who orders for the rest of them, Megumi tagging along sometimes, if only to insist on paying. You half-listen to their conversation, half-wonder when the food will arrive. And when it finally does, you’re the first to urge them to start: handing them their utensils, breaking apart their chopsticks, and reminding them to eat well.

You’re used to looking after others and putting their needs before your own, as the eldest daughter of your family. Megumi is overprotective as well, but he’s also hyper-independent, used to caring for himself without anyone else. Around you, he always finds his demeanor molding, softening—he acts more spoiled, more sulky, almost as if he’s trying to catch your attention, to make you fuss over him. And you do. You always indulge him, though he’s sure you can see right through his act.

You’re laughing at something Yuuji says when you notice him looking at you, as if he’s seeing you in a new light. You hold your corn dog up to him, a sweet smile on your face.

Megumi blinks, ears reddening, as he shakes his head. “N-no, I wasn’t—“

“Have some. It’s good,” you insist, and he can’t refuse you.

So he leans forward in his seat, his thigh brushing against yours—he shouldn’t feel so flustered by that action, right? But you’re still wearing his snapback on your head and it looks ridiculous on you, oversized and just barely hanging onto your head.

Sharing clothes or accessories isn’t new between the two of you either, nor are brief touches like his leg against yours. For some reason, he’s starting to feel hyper-aware of his every movement around you in a way that he doesn’t feel around Nobara, or even Yuuji.

Often, when the four of you have sleepovers or movie nights, typically held at Megumi’s house (he’s always playing host, but he’s grateful that you help out by always arriving an hour earlier with bags of snacks. Gojo adores you for that reason alone), you don’t shy away from physical touch. You’ve fallen asleep on his arm more times than he can count, laid your legs in Yuuji’s lap while the four of you argue over which movie to watch, and squeezed Nobara’s hand throughout countless horror movies.

And yet… Your thighs brushing through your jeans as he leans close is somehow the most intimate feeling he’s had since his kindergarten crush had hugged him tight on the playground in front of his friends.

You hold your corn dog up to his mouth and he takes a bite, relishing in the stretch of mozzarella as you pull the snack away from him with a laugh. He keeps his eyes locked on your lit smile, unaware of Yuuji and Nobara’s troubled gaze trained on him.

You’re like the sun; wherever you go, you shine so bright, making him want to reflect you: he can’t help smiling back.

Sharing food has never been a big deal between the four of you—well, three of you. Before you had found them and became involved in their little friend group, Megumi used to firmly refuse to drink from the same bottle as Nobara or eat from the same spoon as Yuuji, on account of “hygiene”, he claimed. Then you’d stumbled and tripped right into their world and the easy way you’d steal Yuuji’s gatorade from right under his nose and take a sip or share a bite of the cake pop you’d brought for lunch with Nobara had been enough to make him loosen up too, just enough. Eventually, he’d forgotten about that little rule, all because of you, with no shortage of teasing from Yuuji and Nobara.

He drinks from the same glass as you when you’re over at his house, and when you find yourself parched at school, he’s the first to offer to run to the convenience store and back in time for your first period class, Chemistry, which you share with him. The two of you often pass the drink back and forth in class and he tosses it out afterwards when you walk out together, complaining about the homework or the in-class lesson.

Although, he wonders absentmindedly, if you’re eating from the same spoon as him or sipping from the same can from him, can that be counted as… an indirect kiss?

His eyes are inexplicably drawn to your glossy lips as you beam at him and put together a string of words that flies right over his head. What if he leaned forward, just a little? The sparkles on your lips are illuminated by the warm lighting of the restaurant and he finds himself musing about the flavour of your gloss.

Cherry, perhaps? He’d like cherry. Or even strawberry might be nice, sweet and sugary, he thinks. Anything would do, if it was you.

You call his name again, snapping him out of his daze, and he stammers, “W-what?”

You giggle, tucking his snapback onto his head and covering his face. Why doesn’t he have a voice recording of that precious laugh of yours? “Idiot. I was asking if it was good!”

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, it’s great,” he mumbles dazedly with no idea of what you’re talking about as he adjusts his hat.

He blinks, trying to clear the fog in his head as you wait expectantly, ignoring Yuuji and Nobara’s snickers in the background.

“I-it was really good. The corn dog, I mean,” he clarifies, gaze dipping to your lips again. “I liked it. But… Lunch is on me next time.”

You snort, looking satisfied with his answer. “Lunch is always on you. Pigs won’t start flying if you let me pay for your meal once.”

Megumi has what you call textbook manners when it comes to things like this; he’s overly stiff, overly formal. He can’t remember the last time he’d let any of you pay for him without returning the favour. It’s more than just a matter of his pride and ego (though that certainly plays a hand.) It’s the fact that he can’t fathom depending on any of you like that. He can’t accept this level of warmth or care without his mind whispering that it’s only a matter of time before you’ll all leave, just like his father, just like his mother.

He exhales deeply and pops open the can of Coca-Cola that you bought him. The bubbles hiss and fizzle before settling down. As soon as they do, he slides the can towards you with a jerk of his head: an order to take the first sip.

You give him an indulgent smile and follow his instructions, leaving behind a mauve stain on the can. Then, you push the can towards him with the same head jerk motion that he gave you. He resists the temptation of giving in to your antics and smiling as a result.

You’re messing with his head, he groans silently. He’s never going to be the same after this. More than that, he thinks, glancing towards Nobara and Yuuji who observe him with matching knowing looks, the two of them are never going to let him live this down.

Maybe you don't know it yet, but Megumi is yours.

comments and reblogs are appreciated!

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smorgasbordofobsessions · 2 years

Text

liveblog: yugioh! s416-420

ep416

i still love the fact that kaiba didn't help them it's actually funny

yami :(

i hope we DO learn more about yami this season because i'd love ot know more about his past as well

this season seems to be building up to that so hopeuflly they pay out

yami's gonna get wrinkles if he keeps frowning

so i'm about to finish off a bottle of wine, and ... i might have another haha

"how could i have been so selfish!"

he called dark magician girl useless??? yami nooo

to his credit, yami is actually remorseful and regretful of his actions

"i've lost him forever"

n yami you haven't!!!! you'll get yugi back!!!!

once this episode is done i am absolutely getting another bottle of wine

it's open already so i have to drink it anyways

so the train was emptied and split up so now joey and tristan are with rex; and yami and tea are in the oving part, with weevil

time for duels!!

oof weevil's gonna go with the emotional manipulation angle nice

"pheromone wasp" so you already know this is gonna be a problem

ep417

got the other bottle of wine so let's goooooo

ishould make a meal as well

i did now it's time for the episode

keep in mind y'all that if you drink make sure to eat something and drink some water to help mitigate the effects of alcohol

"save it geekasauros. i've got more power in my left nostril than you do"

"this dartz guy must prey on people's weaknesses by promising them power"

-surprised pickachu face-

"are you finished yet? i'm sick of hearing your sob story!"

rexis upset that he doesn't have (fickle) fame like bro

so i wonder if different souls have different values/weights? because if dartz is telling the leviathan to be patient for the pharaoh's soul, and we know the pharaoah's soul is super important, then his would have more "power" to it yes?

ep418

cocooooooon

"what are you, mother goose?"

some backstory on giafried the iron knight nice

yami went to play the eye of tomias and tomias noped out of the battle because of how yami treated his monsters in the last duel (when he was supped up on the power of the seal of orichalcos)

oh wow wevil knows how to save yugi's soul?? but the card is an insect so i thin he's lying

hahahahah yeha he was lying

"you snake"

yami was not into that little "joke"

hahahahhahha yami played "berserk" and even though weevil's already at 0 life points he was still attacking

yami is NOT about playing iwth yugi's soul especially since he realized he fucked up in the last duel

ep419

"without your light to keep me pure"

"you need to be a man for once and face me in a duel now!"

yami is dueling yugi in some weird soul cicle

hm prettysure this spirit!yugi ... yep i was right

this spirit!yugi is just for ami to defeat hie fears

yugi looks so weird with his eyes half-closed

yami has defeated rhe darkness inside his heart

honestly did people have to write puzzle/blindshipping when this shit writes tiself

ep420

hm. wasn't it convenient that yami was able to find this special soul-searching circle in the middle of nowhere after the train derailed in the middle of nowhere?

think i might make yugioh a two month thing because i actually do want to watch the other series; i remember enjoying 5Ds whenever i was able to catch it. but i don't care much for the colors of zexal...

"seems like the pharaoh is in pretty bad shape down there"

"of course. there's still a hole in his heart that has yet to be filled"

he's crying thank you but also this makes me sad as well :(

"mark my words! i won't rest until i get you back!"

this shit literally writes itself wow

i've never really been tempted to read ygo fic but i feel like i might be

yami is stressed and i'm loving the look

rafael, via dratz, summoned a dead soldier

the dead soilder has a duel disk??? wow

okay so this old man knows so much because him and the girl (and the dog) fought in the ancient war 10,000yrs ago

hm so the spirits of the lost souls of atlantis can help yami but he has to summon duel monsters for their assistance

so i'll safely say thiswon't be a typical turn based duel? or maybe it will????

hm so life points still are a factor

this is turning out to be quite intersting way to duel

naruto run!

hm so dartz was around 10,000yrs ago as well

this dude survived 10,000yrs and he died from a direct lightning strike? weak

"chris are you all right?!" she just got hit by direct lightning as well!

"What is it?" bro it's the fucking dragon card you felt unworhty to have what else could it have been???

YAMI HAS ATONED AND IS REMORSEFUL AND IS WORTHY OF TOMIAS!!!

wow with the triumphant music!!

#yugioh #ygo #liveblog

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queerbrujas · 3 years

Text

transition scenes (derogatory)

#so tempted to just split this fic in two so i don't have to think of a bridge between the two parts lmao #but i'm already pushing myself with the whole thing so might as well do it with this #silv.txt #sorry this blog has kinda become Silvia Complains About Writing At All Hours

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serenityseventeen · 3 years

Text

♪ The Last Day of Summer With You

Kim Mingyu : Pool Games

There were soft ripples on the water as you dipped your feet inside your backyard pool.

The pool was filtered and cleaned early this morning because you and your boyfriend had plans to spend the humid summer day in your cool, refreshing pool. To fit this concept, you had changed into a proper swimming outfit.

Your pool was decorated with floating pool noodles, a unicorn floaty, and a donut floaty, all of which were drifting toward the middle of the pool that was an aquamarine color. With the sun shining down so brightly, the pool looked even more beautiful with the reflection of the sunlight mixing with the color was dazzling.

Sitting on the ledge of the swimming pool, you kicked your feet gently, feeling the cold water splash against your legs. You were waiting for Mingyu to bring the rubber ducky floaties.

Feeling the peacefulness of the moment, you closed your eyes while staring up at the warm, blinding sunlight. The sun was so bright that you could see orange light through your closed eyelids.

Just as you let out a soft breath of relaxation, your transient peaceful moment was interrupted by the playful, excited shouts of your boyfriend, who was running through the backdoor holding the bright yellow duck floaty, shirtless.

His shouts startled you, causing you to open your eyes at the occasion. You turned around and before you knew it, you were grinning while watching Mingyu make a twirl while jumping into the cool water. You laughed because of his cute shouting followed by his imperfect twirl. The splash from his dive reached to you, who was resting on the middle of the rectangular pool's perimeter.

“What was that?” You asked while giggled, moving slightly closer to the right where Mingyu made his funny and adorable dive.

Mingyu rose and wiped his face with his hands. You couldn't help but gaze at his broad shoulders and muscular arms as he raised his hand to draw back his hair.

“Shouldn't we have some fun??” Mingyu replied, smiling so genuinely with his puppy eyes sparkling. You always felt weak for those eyes because he was such a bad liar, everything, especially if it was something sincere, would show in his eyes. His eyes would twinkle and you could always see the hearts shooting out of his eyes whenever he looked at you.

You didn't know how you managed to stay with him this long without passing out. Every time his eyes were shimmering with sparks of love, your heartbeat would fire up.

You smiled at Mingyu as he quickly swam his way over to you, jumping out of the water to sit beside you, water trickling down from his shoulders to his prominent abs. Mingyu ran his hand through his hair again and asked, “Should we have a few competitions?”

You tilted your head while staring at him with a smile. “Competitions? Like what?”

“You know,” Mingyu turned to the pool, glancing at the many, unnecessary floaties, pool noodles, and then at the water, then back to you. He smiled and habitually nodded while he spoke. “Just those racing competitions and holding your breath underwater kind of competitions.”

You both stared into each other's eyes for a few seconds before you answered with a confident, “Okay, game on. The loser would receive a water splash slap from the winner!”

Mingyu chuckled. “That's what the punishment would always be whenever I play with my members. I think you hanging around them has left a small aftereffect.”

You laughed and carefully submerged your lower body into the water. The chilling water made your body vibrate with chills.

Mingyu fell back into the pool and quickly, while swimming like a puppy, caught up with you who was swimming toward the duck floaty.

“Okay, choose your fighter, let's race with the floaties first,” Mingyu said. The two of you stopped and as if you two were thinking the same thing, without even saying anything, you threw out rock and he threw out scissors.

You laughed at your boyfriend's unfortunate luck and pushed yourself over to the duck floaty. It was circular and had a hole in the middle, which you thought would be beneficial for the race. Plus, compared to the donut floaty and unicorn one, it was average-sized. The unicorn was was white with pink hair and a golden horn but it was extremely large, meanwhile, the duck floaty was contrastingly small.

You dragged the duck over to the starting area, which was the left side of the pool. Mingyu had chosen the unicorn floaty.

With a count of three initiated by you, the two of you became boat rowers. You pushed your floaty with your feet while helping yourself stay afloat with the floaties ring. Mingyu had to use his arms to row the unicorn floaty across the pool, to the right side, since it did not have a hole like the duck.

It was no doubt that you were the winner. Mingyu could only sigh as you counted down before splashing his face with all of your might. You could tell that Mingyu wanted to just pick you up, get out of the pool, and throw you back in, but he didn't.

The second race was simpler, without floaties, and you knew that Mingyu was a great swimmer so you could only try your best to reach the end of the pool first.

“I'm not going to go easy on you... even if you're super cute,” Mingyu said, looking determined to win. You felt tempted to just let him win but you didn't want to lose without trying, so you gave the race your all.

When you reached the end of the pool, Mingyu was already waiting for you with an elvish smile.

“I already knew that I'd lose,” You replied, closing your eyes in advance. “Just hurry up with the punishment!”

Mingyu wanted to splash but first, he wanted to stare. Your wet face and hair were somehow sexy in his eyes. Your charms were even more attractive now that he saw this playful side of you again.

You opened one of your eyes to ask why he was taking so long but immediately, once you caught a look at his eyes, you backed away mischievously. Based on the way he was looking at you, you could tell that he wanted a kiss.

“You didn't execute the punishment in time so now, the punishment is invalid!” You said, swimming away while splashing small bits of water at him.

Mingyu snapped out of his daze and started swimming toward you. “Hey! Come on, don't be like that! There was never once a rule like that!”

You giggled and began swimming toward him, who was still trying to get back his chance to splash water at you. While his mouth was distracted talking and his eyes had a bit of sulk, you planted a soft kiss on his wet lips. Your arms traveled from his bare, buff arms, to around his shoulders, your hands patting his wet hair.

Mingyu brought his arms around your waist and you two shared a sweet, romantic, and loving kiss.

You tilted your head as you stared at Mingyu after your lips left each other. Your hand was still caressing the back of his wet head when he said, “One more competition, let's see who holds their breath the longest.”

You smiled at him confidently and nodded. “Deal. The punishment is water splashing.”

“No time limit,” Mingyu added.

At the count of three, you both dove into the water.

Losing track of time, the moment you saw your boyfriend close his eyes, you mischievously and slowly brought your head back up to get some air, trying to trick him.

However, you were quickly caught in the act.

Mingyu got up from under the aquamarine pool water and didn't hesitate to splash you this time, with a straight face. Just one yank from his arm sent tons of water your way.

Mingyu could only smirk as you wiped your face, at a loss for words. Mingyu chuckled upon seeing your reaction and moved lightly through the water to you, leaving a soft kiss on your forehead.

He laughed, feeling somewhat pitiful toward you, who was still frozen over the fact that you got caught trying to cheat and lost. Mingyu just kept laughing while patting your head.

“My members did that too many times that I'm immune to that trick.”

----------------

a/n: I'm going to start watching Police University because I've loved Jinyoung ever since I found B1A4's A Lie in 2018. + The Dino fic is getting out of hand- I think it'll reach 10-12k words; I'll have to split it into 3 parts with 4k words each if it does reach 12k... + This one was low-key inspired by TTT water sports ep.

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lillupon · 3 years

Note

I have social anxiety, so I usually refrain from reaching out, but I love all your fics so much and AEV is my current obsession. I don't like reading WIP fics because I am an impatient person, but here we are. Anyway, chapter 8 *chef's kiss*! Imagining Mingyu's POV of the whole classroom interaction (sexy times) keeps me up at night. He must be so scared Mr. Jeon won't go through with it and when it does happen, I love that he keeps laughing like he just can't believe it. Thank you for this fic!

Hi Anon! I'm glad you reached out. Thanks for joining me here (つ≧▽≦)つ I love imagining AEV from Mingyu's POV--chapter 8 especially! He was truly in heaven that night.

At the beginning of the chapter, during winter vacation, we see Wonwoo putting his utmost effort into tamping down his thoughts about Mingyu. Mingyu, however, has no such qualms. After he gives Mr. Jeon his gift, that boy is floating for the next two weeks straight. The astonishment on Mr. Jeon's face when he flipped open the giftbox lid? The way Mr. Jeon's entire body went soft with emotion? The smile curving his lips when he looked up at Mingyu and said, "I love it."

It made Mingyu feel like he was the only alpha in the world.

It gets Mingyu grinning every time he imagines it. And he imagines it a lot. He wishes Mr. Jeon weren't on blockers, so that he could smell the shy and pleased scent of him. At some point, Chaeyoung asks, "What's wrong with your face?" She squints at him. A slow realisation dawns on her face. "Oh. You have a new omega, don't you?"

It's the first time in Mingyu's life that he wants winter break to be over quickly. That first day back, Mingyu feels like a puppy who had been separated from its owner for fourteen days too many. He missed Mr. Jeon so much. When Mr. Jeon asks him why he's glad to be back, he almost bursts out with, "I wanted to see you."

Fast-forwarding now to that fateful Friday night:

Mingyu loves spending time with Mr. Jeon after school, just the two of them. Rationally, he knows nothing will happen between them, but he finds it thrilling all the same because the possibility is there.

Then again, he never thought Mr. Jeon would go into heat in front of him, so maybe he is a little hopeful...

Mingyu gets bolder when they're alone. The way Mr. Jeon gets flustered--stammering and blushing to the tips of his ears--when Mingyu flirts with him is so cute. He kind of wants to say 'fuck it' to the homework and spend the next two hours flirting with Mr. Jeon and seeing how red he can get. He doesn't even really have homework. He's caught up in all his classes; he just wants an excuse to be around Mr. Jeon.

Mingyu bites back a coo when Mr. Jeon stares down at a stack of quizzes with a certain determination. Mr. Jeon has put a hand on his forehead, as though shielding his face from Mingyu.

A handful of minutes later, Mr. Jeon peeks up at him, equal parts shy and apprehensive. Their eyes meet. A smile curves Mingyu's lips, growing into a grin when Mr. Jeon drops his gaze and a bloom of colour spreads across his cheeks. The alpha inside Mingyu goes wild. He needs to be close.

Mingyu stands and makes his way over to Mr. Jeon's desk with a textbook in hand and a math question on his mind. It doesn't escape his notice, the way Mr. Jeon tugs at his collar, trying to get some air to his heated skin.

That moment when Mingyu realises that Mr. Jeon is going into heat in front him?

Mingyu doesn't believe it at first. He thinks he's just smelling what he wants to smell. Mr. Jeon went into heat last month. It's too soon for another one.

But then Mr. Jeon's tempting and honey-sweet scent grows stronger and more seductive. Mingyu's body reacts to it immediately, flushing hot with arousal.

No way.

The first time Mr. Jeon went into heat in front of him could be attributed to bad luck.

A second time? And following in close succession to that first time?

He doesn't want to assume. But maybe, just maybe... He triggered Mr. Jeon's heats.

Which means, perhaps, that Mr. Jeon is attracted to him, too.

No fucking way.

Mr. Jeon sways, subconsciously drawn forward by his own heat and Mingyu's arousal, and then he yanks himself back. Tripping over his feet; over the chair--sending it rolling into the wall behind. Mingyu doesn't think: he just reacts, lunging forward to catch Mr. Jeon by the elbow. He twists to take the brunt of the fall.

They land in a heap on the floor, limbs entangled. Mingyu's head throbs where he hit his head against the linoleum. Black spots dance across his vision. He groans. "Fuck, that hurt. Are you okay Mr. Jeon?" It's instinct, to check on the omega he likes, before he catalogues his own pain.

That's when he realises that Mr. Jeon is lying stiff atop him, face smashed into Mingyu's neck. They are pressed together from chest to knees in a searing hot line. Their groins are rubbing against each other.

Mingyu smells it before he feels it: Mr. Jeon's growing arousal. Mr. Jeon's erection prods against him.

It gets Mingyu so hard, so fast.

Wonwoo's fingers twitch against his shirt.

"Mr. Jeon?" Mingyu breathes out, shakily. His heart pounds wildly against his ribs.

Mr. Jeon lets out the most piteous whimper Mingyu has ever heard. And then a bit of slick leaks out of his hole. Mingyu catches a whiff of it in the air and it sets his mouth watering.

Mingyu lost the chance to comfort Mr. Jeon when he entered heat back in December, but he sure as hell isn't going to let the opportunity slip by a second time.

He tightens his hold around Mr. Jeon's waist. Tentatively, he places both hands on Mr. Jeon's back. Waits a split-second so that he doesn't startle Mr. Jeon away. He has to act slowly and carefully; Mr. Jeon could bolt at any second.

"It's okay. It's okay..." Mingyu says quietly, pitching his voice low to soothe. I'm going to take care of you. He smooths his hands down Mr. Jeon's back, travelling lower and lower until his hands are gliding over Mr. Jeon's asscheeks. His thumbs skim over the middle seam of Mr. Jeon's trousers, following the crevice of his ass.

Mr. Jeon moans, hot and damp against Mingyu's skin. He spurts slick, just from having Mingyu's hands on him. Mingyu can feel Mr. Jeon's trousers getting wetter and wetter as he kneads his asscheeks. Sweet omega is preparing himself to take an alpha's cock. Mingyu can't resist rubbing the pad of his middle finger over Mr. Jeon's hole, pushing down as far as the fabric will allow him. He can feel it clenching and pulsing under his touch.

"Fuck, Mr. Jeon..." He muffles a groan into Mr. Jeon's hair.

When Mr. Jeon starts rocking his hips Mingyu's brain whites out. His teacher is grinding on him, taking his pleasure and making sweet little noises. It's surreal.

Their erections rub against each other, sending a jolt of pleasure through Mingyu's loins. The motion is hesitant at first. Mingyu holds Wonwoo by the ass and guides the movement, turning the stuttering rhythm into something forceful and desperate that has both of them groaning.

Mingyu digs his fingers into the crevice of Mr. Jeon's ass, forefinger finding his rosebud entrance. He thinks about sliding his hand beneath Mr. Jeon's belt and trousers. He wants to feel, skin-against-skin, how sloppy and heated Mr. Jeon's hole must be, if the amount of slick he is producing is anything to judge by. Just imagining dipping his finger inside to feel the hot and wet clutch of Mr. Jeon's inner walls has him groaning.

Mr. Jeon's cries grow higher in pitch. Mingyu didn't know he was capable of making noises like that, so used to the low and smooth tenor of his voice when he's lecturing in front of the classroom.

"Mingyu," Mr. Jeon chokes out. "Oh, god, I need, I need--" He cuts himself off abruptly.

Mingyu's voice is strained when he says, "What is it, Mr. Jeon? Tell me what you need."

Mr. Jeon shakes his head, his hair tickling Mingyu's chin. The grip he has on Mingyu's shirt tightens. Mingyu can detect the edge of frustration against his pleasure.

"It's okay, Mr. Jeon, you can tell me," Mingyu says.

“I-I can’t," Mr. Jeon strains out. Wetness smears against Mingyu's skin.

Tears?

Mingyu croons. He wants to know what it is that Mr. Jeon wants so much that he's crying with it. What could it be, that Mr. Jeon feels the need to hold back when they've already barreled headfirst beyond all semblance of decorum?

Mingyu suspects he might know. He gives Mr. Jeon a tiny nudge. His voice goes rough and low, drawn from a place deep within his chest; it vibrates with an alpha's command: "Tell me."

Mr. Jeon blurts out, “Fuck me, oh god, please, Mingyu. I need it. I need it—just the tip. Oh, just the tip. Please, please, please—”

Mingyu damn near comes in his pants. His hips jerk and he groans. “Oh, fuck, Mr. Jeon. You’re so fucking hot. Yeah, yeah. I’ll give it to you.”

He can't believe Mr. Jeon is begging for his cock. He's determined to fuck Mr. Jeon so good that he keeps coming back for more and more.

The entire scene feels like a dream, something straight out of his wildest fantasies. No--even his wildest fantasies could not compete with the sight of Mr. Jeon presenting for him: thighs quivering, his needy pink hole desperately clenching down on nothing, his pretty cock dangling heavy between his legs and drooling a clear line of precome onto the ground...

#asks #aev bonus

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ladylynse · 3 years

Note

One of the HP/DP Twins AU posts includes Jake Long, so I'm thinking American Dragon: Jake Long/Harry Potter crossover; what would it be like? Dragons in HP are nothing like JL dragons (or are they?). Any ideas? Thank you

(re: this ficlet (one of them, anyway) from this AU)

That is a very good question, and I'd swear you weren't the first person to ask it, except I can't find any previous answer anywhere, so there's a chance it was all in my head. (There are sometimes many things in my head.) There is also a chance there's half a response in my drafts that I will find in six months. (Or maybe I'm just thinking of trolls.) Either way, you get this one now.

The dragons in the two worlds are different enough that, were I writing a crossover fic, I wouldn't consider them the same species. The HP dragons I'd treat as more genetically similar to, say, wyverns, which (in the ADJL world, I'm pretending) don't have human forms. I could go the route of corrupted magic or cursed or something, but, eh, dragons are established well enough in HP lore, abuse and protections and dragon heartstring wand core and egg-laying included, that it's simply easier to call them a magical creature that may appear similar to the ADJL dragons when they are in their dragon form but are not the same. (It gets very ethically dicey if you considered them the same, even if the wizards themselves do not considering them to be the same, and writing a fic where procurers of dragon heartstring are pretty much bounty hunters out murdering people for body parts isn’t the sort of fic I’d want to write.)

That is not to say that people like Charlie Weasley aren't aware that there are other dragon species out there, both in the 'they've likely gone extinct' and 'they're so good at hiding that we can't find them' sense. I don't recall off the top of my head if there's any mention of wingless dragons in the HP world, but if there isn't, there's the fun of the debate of whether or not the wingless dragons can fly on a basis of magic alone, something heatedly discussed because there seems to be evidence for both but no definitive proof, as the ADJL wingless dragons like Lao Shi aren't about to be caught by a bunch of bumbling wizards. Rumours run rampant, but substantiated sightings do not.

Now. Thing is. The ADJL dragons would consider the Wizarding World separate from the Magical World and guard their secrets just as closely from wizards as they do from ordinary humans, and creatures who are perfectly aware of both worlds (like the goblins) aren't about to tell the wizards what they haven't managed to figure out on their own.

However.

There is the obvious mistreatment of some magical creatures and the lack of interference from the ADJL dragons, who are supposed to protect magical creatures. I’d be tempted to split the dragon territory under the protection of the ADJL dragons into one for each country--Wales has a dragon on the flag; how can I not acknowledge that they have their own dragonic protector?--and then make up excuses for why there’s a single dragon for all of Africa by claiming that Councillor Andam, while in that role, merely oversaw the dragons in charge of each of the countries/subregions if it wasn’t split across countries, which it probably isn’t, because borders can be nebulous things. The fact that they’re having so much trouble replacing world dragons after they were killed by the Strigoi--and the fact that Jake has the role as a teenager who, at the start of it, is still learning control--means I really shouldn’t do that from a narrative standpoint, as the dragons themselves are clearly very few in number. Which brings me back to my point, and that is that they are too few in number to do things about the wizards and their treatment of magical creatures in anything more than a subtle way.

The ADJL dragons would, I think, be able to blend into both the muggle and wizarding worlds. Hiding is already second nature to them; what’s hiding one more secret, especially when such knowledge can be easily explained away? (In England, at least, the Ministry of Magic records are deplorable by their standards (so I’d pretend).) They have magic, even if it’s not wizarding magic, so they could blend in well enough for what they need to do. The ADJL dragons would work in more subtle ways to protect the magical creatures targeted by the wizarding world--such as bringing in dragon sanctuaries--while still working to keep their very existence secret from the muggle one.

I mean, that’s all well and good, but that’s background, not an actual fic. That’s the standpoint I’d be working from, though, when informing other decisions I’m making. Jake himself wouldn’t have jurisdiction outside of the States, and if some sort of British dragon was named in the show (even as one of those killed by the Strigoi), I don’t remember who it is; I’d need to check that. Point is, though, I’d probably set the fic on American soil.

I mean, I could write a fic with a heavily involved OC where Jake is pulled in to do something with the British Dragon, and I could see Jake involving himself if something goes down outside of the US and there’s no one around to help, officially designated world dragon or no, but it’s hard to justify keeping him involved because he shouldn’t be. It shouldn’t be his fight. He’s already responsible for a larger territory than he can feasibly take care of, which is why I quietly headcanon that a whole bunch of different magical creatures across the States keep tabs on the situation in their little region and Jake only gets notified (via Fu or Gramps, who are screening this because Jake is still in school) when it’s not something someone else can handle, at least if it’s any distance away from where Jake is currently.

So, for HP characters I’d probably focus on to twig to the fact that there might be more to dragons than they currently realize? Luna, Hermione, Charlie, or Bill. They just make the most sense to me. (At least for present-day folk; Newt Scamander would be an obvious pre-books choice.)

Luna would be off exploring, searching for evidence of creatures no one in the wizarding world even believes exist (they often do and merely are residing as firmly as possible in the magical world, trying to keep away from the general knowledge of wizards). Hermione could be on a proper holiday with her parents after everything that’s happened, only to catch sight of something in the NYC that isn’t what it should be, even to her eyes. Charlie, well, there have been rumours of dragons spotted around New York City, and someone needs to follow up on that and act as a liaison to their American branch, because why didn’t they send someone to investigate this sooner? (As far as the others can tell, the Americans lost no time in sending half the team to Hawaii to investigate rumours into sightings there.) Otherwise, I’d go with Bill Weasley and work at it not from the dragon/magical world angle but magical artefact/magical world angle, with curses and magic that doesn’t make sense to anyone else and therefore requires the attention of one of the best curse breakers in the magical world. (The goblins would know what they were doing in showing such a thing to a wizard if they were present on the scene of the discovery; if they were not and found out after, well, it’s less a choice and more a subtle hand to guide the situation away from impending disaster, because that is very well what it could be, should someone else take the lead on this.)

(more like this)

#adjl #hp #harry potter #american dragon jake long #crossover #musings #fic ideas #ladylynse #asks #ramblings

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invisibleraven · 3 years

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💭☕️👻

💭-any ideas for a possible wip?

Unfinished fics in my gdocs right now: My Gift Exchange fic, part 10 of Semisonic Sunset that I am dragging my feet on starting finishing, an arranged marriage Rulie fic that I don't know what to do with now since I poured so much into For better or for worse that would also work there, like 200 words of a Rulie fic based on If Looks Could Kill, and a barely started Rukebox fic that may not go anywhere

Honestly I think I burnt myself out on For better or for worse, and haven't really written anything since. Plus I've just been so disheartened by the lack of engagement lately, it's hard to get motivated.

☕️- favorite passage

I mean, I am always going to pick something from But came the dawn... MAJOR spoilers for that story if you haven't read it (and if you haven't, please do! It is the BEST thing I have EVER written and it got like NO love when it came out)

Reggie sits there, really soaking it in before the biggest smile ever splits his face. “Reggie Molina. I like it.”

Luke looks shocked for a second before looking at Julie, who looks at her wrist, then at Luke. The lightbulb goes off and they grin widely. “Reg…” Luke starts.

Reggie turns and Luke brings their lips together in a sweet kiss. However, a rush goes right through Reggie, a feeling of completeness, of belonging, of love. He’s blinking rapidly as Luke pulls away, still not sure what in the world happened when Julie turns his head and repeats the kiss, the same rush racing through his veins. He gapes a little as Julie pulls away. “What… what was that?”

Julie giggles. “Reggie… you’re a Molina.”

“Yeah?”

Julie flashes him her wrist, the one bearing her name. The writing that he never really studied closely, but now that he’s looking at it, really looking, he realizes why the writing looks so familiar. Despite never writing it down, he knows that whenever he signs his new name down, his signature will match the writing on Julie’s wrist. “But… but…”

Luke holds out his wrist next, and Reggie peers at it, noticing that the name is only there once, but like whoever wrote it put one signature on top of the other, the styles very similar, but there’s a subtle difference in the roundness of the vowels, the slant of the I… it’s two different people with the same name. Julie and…

“It’s me…” Reggie says, dumbfounded. “It’s always been me.”

👻- 2 or 3 sentences from something you haven’t posted yet

From the aforementioned Rulie fic inspired by If Looks Could Kill...

Reggie clutched his drink so tight he swore the glass would break in his hand. This woman had the voice of an angel, though her red lips and sultry smile as she crooned brought more devilish thoughts to mind. Reggie usually wasn't one to seduce information out of someone, but this time he was sorely tempted.

#ask games #my writing

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yume-x-hanabi · 3 years

Text

Concubinage Behind the Scenes - intro

I mentioned a while ago on Twitter that I was tempted to write down behind-the-scenes explanations, different pov, etc, for Concubinage, if there was interest for that kind of things. A few people were interested, so I decided to start now.

In this post, I'll talk about how the idea came to me, and give some details about the settings. The next post will be about the characters (canon and OC) who appear in this fic.

How it started

I've always liked the concept of Arranged Marriage AU where the characters have to navigate developing feelings while being already married. It's no secret I'm a fan of period dramas, and Gaius' backstory is a perfect period drama setting. So thinking back, it's not really a surprise my mind eventually started conjuring up scenarios. I was in the middle of other projects then, so it was nothing serious, just me lowkey throwing ideas out there for fun. Hah.

A month later (Feb 2020), I started writing the first chapter on a whim, refined some of the ideas from my first outline, etc. I was still jumping from project to project then, but I eventually finished it a couple of months later, and got a start on the next chapters, so I decided to post it on 25 April. I was honestly not expecting much--my track record for multichapters was abysmal (5 years between ch1 and 2 of Fractured Lives lol), and as it was an entirely self-indulgent idea, I didn't think many people would be interested. I just thought I'd write a few chapters while it kept my attention, then throw it on the hiatus pile like so many other projects. We now know this isn't what happened XD

Settings

The main project I was working on at the time was a pre-game canon compliant series about Gaius and Wingul's backstories, so I had worked out a lot of setting details already, and just had to reuse them. I drew a complete map of Auj Oule and added a bunch of locations, made up a bunch of clans, etc.

Here is a screenshot of the relevant area:

(unlocalized names because I spent a long time researching potential names that fit with the canon naming theme in the Japanese version)

I named the river that runs through Xian Du the "Xian River" and decided to stick the Long Dau capital (named Xian Yang) on it. Despite the proximity to the Mon Highlands, it's under a different, much milder clime.

Darhan, Gaius' hometown, is in the mountains up north, same kind of clime as the Mon Highlands.

wrt clan territories: the area around Khan Baliq (Kanbalar) and the Mon Highlands belongs to the Sarakhs clan, the clan of King Melard.

The eastern part (starting from the Xian River) is split in two: everything north of Xian Du/Labari is Long Dau clan territory, while the south (down to Hamil and Ilat (Aladhi); the latter is not shown here) is Kitarl Clan territory.

The Nia Khera area is neutral and rarely accessed due to the Kyzyl (Kijara) Seafalls and Xagut Floodmeadows. Then the Rakorum (Lakutam) area belongs to another clan, but I don't think it'll become relevant here.

As you can see, the Long Dau and Kitarl are sharing a border, so there's been a lot of feuding over territories between those two big clans. That said, their territories may be large geographically, but they're made of numerous smaller clans that submitted to them. Those clans often also fight each other, even if they're both on Long Dau territories, for example. So lots of clan fighting lol

Canon Divergence

While this is an AU, it is set in the canon universe--it's just that some events happened differently. It's like a fractured dimension, in a way XD;

The main point of divergence is the Battle of Fezebel.

In canon, following the death of Rashugal's king Milan, Auj Oule's king Melard launched a campaign to conquer Rashugal and rallied all the clans under him to fight. The armies clashed at the Fezebel Outback at the same time as Elympios tested its first Lance of Kresnik prototype, resulting in the outback being swept by a giant tsunami. Both armies suffered tremendous losses (the Outway clan in particular, who lost most of its warriors), and that put a stop to clan squabbles for a while, until Gaius, fed up with the way the large clans toyed with the smaller ones, decided to rebel and conquer Auj Oule.

Here, the battle didn't happen. Melard was too preoccupied with his own internal troubles to worry about Rashugal, so he missed his chance to attack, and business went as usual.

The Elympios stuff and tsunami did happen, though, so the Zenethra is now stuck in Rieze Maxia, and Maxwell created Milla and Muzét as in canon.

However, since there was no one in Fezebel that day, the event went relatively unnoticed, and there was no big tragedy that killed a lot of people and changed many things in Rieze Maxia.

So Arst and Lin... got to have the childhoods they were supposed to have within their respective clans.

Arst is still very much a rebel at heart and doesn't like the way the small clans are treated either, but there wasn't that big event that pushed him to act and rebel for good at 15 like in canon. So he was mostly stewing on his own, showing acts of defiance and insubordination here and there. He also started laying the foundations for the creation of Taurus, but it came much later than in canon, and his plans were interrupted by the marriage.

Meanwhile, Lin grew up as a pampered prince, but the more time passed, the more it became apparent that his personality and values clashed with the clan's ideals. So it wasn't all a smooth ride, even though his life is much more stable than Wingul's was at that time in canon.

On the Rashugal side, things changed a bit too, but some things still played out in similar ways as canon. The Fenn brothers fought for the throne, and Nachtigal emerged victorious, with Rowen at his side. Carrie's still around here (and married to Rowen), so he hasn't turned tyrant (yet?).

The Rashugal-Auj Oule relations are pretty much "we're both too busy with our own problems to fight each other, but you'd better not make any suspicious move toward the border" XD;

Meanwhile, Exodus is doing Exodus things...

#tales of xillia #yume fanfiction #concubinage behind the scenes

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codevassie · 5 years

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hi! a'ight first off i just wanna say your ASFoS fic is quite possibly the dopest shit i've ever read. like. i saved some of the songs from that playlist and i stiLL get emotional when they come up on shuffle so yeaH amazing work!!!

CV: Omg thank you SO MUCH!!! I can’t tell you enough how happy it made me to see this! ASFoS is my baby. That playlist too! I’m curious which songs you liked.Alright, on to the one-shot. I hope you like it! I didn’t know how much I wanted to write this au until I got this request?? Now I have sooo many headcanons. So thank you and enjoy!

Note: Sorry if I got anything to the PJO universe incorrect. I can’t remember every single detail of the books and, I must say, that is one of my greatest downfalls as a human being. I will be working on my other request shortly, but requests are still open, so stop by!Btw, this takes place during Sea of Monsters.

“One,” Keith murmured to himself as he plucked at a strawberry, dropping it into the basket at his feet. “Two, three, four,” he continued counting.

The wind swept past, rustling his bangs across his sweaty forehead. The sun beat down, the weather adjusted for camper comfort, but not the physical labor of hours in the strawberry fields.

“Five… six…” Two more thumps into the basket, filling fuller with the ruby red fruit, delicious where they shined in the bright sunlight. “Seven…”

Keith paused, hand carefully extended to number eight. His fingertips brushed its smooth surface, but he retracted it before it plucked.

He righted himself from his bent posture, directing his line of sight across the field where numerous others were hard at work. The satyrs played their music. The Demeter and Dionysus kids wiggled their fingers, making the vines dance. There were some other kids who had gotten roped into the task too, but mostly it was just them. Satyrs. Demeter and Dionysus kids. And that one kid who hadn’t been claimed yet.

For eight years.

It really had been that long now, hadn’t it? Keith had stumbled his way into camp eight years ago, dirty, scared, orphaned, and only seven years old. Somehow, he had found his way there, in a place he was supposed to belong. Finally.

Except, not even at Camp Half Blood had Keith really belonged. He’d been stuck in the cabin of rejects, of extras, of forgottens. And, whoever his godly parent out there was, they hadn’t cared to get him out.

Hadn’t bothered to send just the tiniest sign. For eight years.

Suddenly, Keith didn’t feel like working in the field anymore. That eighth strawberry could pluck itself.

So he gathered his basket and walked to one of the others, handing it over before making his way out of the fields. He was tired from his work, and nothing sounded better than a bed right now - a bed which had taken years to earn since he wasn’t even an official part of the Hermes cabin and all - but he wouldn’t be going back to the cabin just yet. If there was anything guaranteed about the chaos of the Hermes cabin, it was that there would always be people in it, always a crowd, and Keith didn’t feel like dealing with a crowd right now.

Instead, he went to the arena where only a couple of people had decided to spend their afternoon. Since the border had been poisoned, the weather had become increasingly hotter and its magic was unable to regulate it. Most people were inside, with the air conditioning.

So Keith found himself a corner of the arena and started to hack away at one of the dummies. He was already sweating from his work in the fields and the scorching weather, but he decided he didn’t care much as long as he got to swing his sword, stretch his muscles, and ignore the world.

He didn’t want to think of it all. The border. The monster attacks. That Percy kid off on another quest to save them all. Luke…

“Aren’t you sick of it? How many years has it been now and your mom won’t claim you?”

Eight years…

He swallowed down the sick feeling that rose in his throat, putting extra effort into slashing the dummy. It split, half of it falling to the ground. Shit, now he’d have to replace that.

Keith threw his sword into the dirt, leaving it to stick up like Excalibur in the stone, while he went to drag away the useless dummy. He tried to forget Luke’s voice. He tried to forget how tempting it had been to follow. He’d trusted Luke. He’d looked up to the guy - was even kind of close to him, considering no one survived in the Hermes cabin without having known its cabin leader. He had been a great cabin leader.

But it hadn’t been a shock, really. Keith regretted that - that he had almost seen it coming. Luke had always been so bitter towards their parents. There had always been something off about the way he brushed it off, like he had to force himself to calm down.

It was something achingly familiar, this grudge that Luke held onto. Like a life raft. This resentment towards their parents Keith understood completely. He didn’t think a war was necessary for it, but he understood.

Despite this, a lot of people were wary of him now. More and more unclaimed were disappearing from camp to join Luke. Why would Keith not? Eight years was a long time to wait, after all…

And maybe Keith might have. If not for Shiro.

Shiro was the closest thing Keith had to a brother. Once upon a time, it had made him consider the chances of being a child of Hebe. He’d gotten rid of that idea almost immediately. Children of Hebe were way too good to be anything like him. Not that he had much to go off of. Shiro was the only claimed child of Hebe at camp at the moment, and, even though he was stuck in with all the unclaimed and Hermes kids, he never seemed resentful. He always paid attention too. He helped kids get settled in when they arrived, made sure they had plenty of people they could go to, even kept an eye on them after they’d been claimed and moved cabins. It was just in his nature to care - something Keith couldn’t understand how he did for all the brain cells he put into the notion.

But it had really helped him throughout the years. Shiro had always been there for him, since he’d first arrived three years ago. After so long of being alone, it was nice to have someone like Shiro.

Dragging the dummy out of the way, Keith thought about going to find Shiro. Maybe they could spar together. Or go to the dining pavilion - it was close to lunch anyway. Just then, though, a voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Oh, hi, Keith,” Lotor said, walking up to him with purpose, tailed by the two girls who were always following him around. “Here all alone? I suppose it makes sense an unclaimed doesn’t have any friends.”

“Piss off, Lotor,” Keith spat, pulling out a dummy and carrying it over to one of the empty mounts.

“I guess it makes sense that you have no friends at camp. I heard they’re all with Luke. Only a matter of time until you follow, I suppose,” Lotor said, sighing like he really believed in that inevitable. Keith felt his blood boil.

“I’m not turning on camp,” he said, turning to Lotor suddenly. “And, for your information, I have friends here too.”

“Oh, yes, whatever,” Lotor said, waving his words away like particularly annoying flies. “Anyway, we were going to spar, but we seem to be uneven here. Care to join?”

Keith knew that was a bad idea. Everyone knew that was a bad idea. You see, Lotor was a kid of Tyche, the goddess of luck, and a pretty powerful one at that. Going against Lotor was stupid, dumb; he’d lose for sure.

Which is exactly why he couldn’t back down each time. Lotor had won too many times, and Keith was determined to bring him down. It wasn’t fair, especially when Lotor won on nothing but his own unnatural luck. Keith was brought down time after time from a misplaced foot or the awkward angle of his sword. The fights were never on skill, and that frustrated Keith to Hades.

When he accepted Lotor’s offer this time, he ended up on the ground not two seconds into the spar. But, hot-blooded as Keith was, he kept going back. And back. And back. Any time Lotor challenged him, Keith was there to take up the offer, as many times as he continued to lose.

Keith was good, but luck, luck was better. Luck had never been on Keith’s side.

“Again, Kogane?” Lotor asked from above, but Keith was already exhausted. The adrenaline from Lotor’s initial challenge was already wearing off, especially after he had already been sparring all day, even long before Lance had arrived.

But Keith had never been known to do things for his own good. He rose to his feet, readied his sword. “Again.”

He was taken down time and time again, none of it by skill, all by happenstance. Stupid things. A foot in the wrong place. A wrong sword angle.

It wasn’t long until Ezor and Zethrid were laughing their butts off. Lotor chuckled too as he watched Keith rise once again, wiping sweat from his forehead. “If this is what Luke is looking to recruit, camp should win without problem.”

Keith was exhausted. He knew, logically, he wouldn’t win anything like this, but he couldn’t leave it at this. Lotor would get what was coming to him and Keith would be the one to deliver it. Eventually, his luck had to run out.

“I bet you’re staying at camp to do the recruiting for him,” Lotor laughed. “How pathetic that he would choose someone who has gone years without being claimed.”

Keith brandished his sword before him. Lotor rolled his eyes, but he put his sword up again too.

“I’m not working for Luke,” Keith gritted out through clenched teeth. His voice shook. He knew he was letting Lotor get to him.

Shaking the emotions away, Keith readied himself to lunge again when a voice interrupted them. A familiar voice. A voice Keith did not want to hear right now.

“What’s going on here?” Lance asked, stalking up to them, flanked by two other kids. Keith recognized them. It would have been strange not to, as long as he’d lived at camp. It was Hunk and Pidge, a child of Hephaestus and a wood nymph. Keith wondered what they were doing there.

“Keith, why are you always doing this?” Pidge asked, stalking forward to look up at him with this look in their eyes. He knew exactly what they were referring to. What they all saw, and what they all knew of his record with Lotor.

“Sparring,” he grunted simply, trying to stand tall despite the exhaustion dragging down his limbs. He crossed his arms, trying to appear put together. Pidge, of course, saw straight through him. And so did everyone around.

“Don’t spar with him,” Pidge said, practically growling on the last word as they glared at Lotor. Lotor just looked on, amused and innocent. At this, though, he spoke up.

“Keith here seems just fine sparring with me,” he said, shrugging a shoulder and smirking. “And I’d really like to continue, if you three don’t mind.”

They both turned toward Keith, Lotor with a challenge in his eye that set a fire in him that wanted to lash out, Pidge with a disapproving look. “Keith,” they said in warning.

Keith had never really listened to them when it came to stuff like this. He didn’t even listen to Shiro half the time when it came to Lotor. He turned back toward Lotor, lifting his sword. “Pidge, give us space.”

“Nope! Nope nope, nuh-uh,” Lance suddenly cut in, making Keith look his way. He was walking forward, coming to stand next to Pidge. “You, my friend, are exhausted. Don’t be an idiot.”

“Seriously? You’re calling me an idiot and expecting me to listen to you?” Keith asked, putting down his sword yet again to turn toward him.

“Yep,” Lance said, self-assured. “And you’re going to.”

“And why is that?” Keith couldn’t help but ask.

Suddenly, Lance seemed to get serious. He leaned forward, talking in a low voice and holding Keith’s eyes to his like glue. “Because, if you keep sparring Lotor like this, you’re never going to win. You’re probably the only one at this camp who can do it, but if you go in blindly like this, he’s never going to get what he deserves. And that’s to eat dirt at the tip of your sword.”

Keith paused, letting the words going through his mind, felt them tug on him, felt them tug him toward Lance, to put down the sword. Lance was right. Keith wanted Lotor to get what he deserved so bad, but Lance was right. That wouldn’t happen today. That wouldn’t happen when he didn’t have the strength to do it, or the level head to execute it.

So he clutched at his sword, then sheathed it. He turned toward Lotor. “Another day.”

And, with that, he followed the three out of the arena.

-/-

Lance, Pidge, and Hunk invited him to the mess hall for lunch, but Keith turned them down. Instead, he went to the showers, then back to the Hermes cabin, deciding to call it a day.

“Long day?” another camper asked as she walked by. Keith merely grunted in affirmation and Romelle giggled. She was a new comer there, yet she had already been claimed. Daughter of Iris. Apparently, since Iris was a messenger goddess, Romelle had inherited some strange ability to project thoughts into others’ minds.

Feel better, she whispered into his mind, and he pushed back a Thank you that he hoped she got.

“I’m heading to Athena cabin,” she called as she left, and Keith could hear the excitement in her voice. That was another thing. As the daughter of the goddess of rainbows, she also claimed to it was her god(dess) given right to be as hopelessly gay for cabin six resident Allura as possible.

“Good luck,” Keith called, but she was already gone. He chuckled, then dropped his head back into his pillow. He stayed like that for a while, listening as voices carried in and out of the cabin. No one paid him any mind and no one disturbed him. Eventually, he was able to drift off, sleeping away much of the hot and sticky day as he could in the tolerably okay temperatures of the busiest cabin.

When he awoke, it was with regret. Mid-day naps were never a good idea. He felt groggy, somehow more tired than when he’d gone to sleep, but, as he tried to roll over and drift again, his body kick-started, letting him know that he would not be getting any more sleep any time soon. Great, he pissed his body off.

So, with a groan, he sat up, rubbing at his eyes. When he looked around, he noticed that the cabin was darker, but still relatively empty. Beams of orange sunlight streamed in at odd angles, signalling a sunset over the Big House and time for dinner. Keith wasn’t sure if he was really hungry, but, then again, he’d only had breakfast that day and Shiro would surely come looking for him if he skipped two meals.

He huffed before swinging his legs over the bed, getting ready to stand before he saw another inhabitant of the cabin. Lance, laying in is bunk across the room, book propper up on his pillow where he had been reading on his stomach, was staring over at him. Keith’s wasn’t sure if it was the sunset or what, but his cheeks looked particularly dark.

“Lance?” he asked, causing the boy in question to jump.

“Keith!” he exclaimed, cheeks going even darker. “You’re up!”

“Yeah…” he replied, then stretched a bit, arms overhead. Lance made an odd sound. “Are you not going to dinner?”

Sounding rather strangled, Lance replied, “No, no. I am.”

“Okay…” Keith said, finally catching up to the awkwardness of the situation. He paused. “Well, we should get there?”

“What?” Lance squeaked. “Like, together?”

Keith frowned. “Um, I guess?” Why was Lance being so weird. “Why are you being so weird?” he decided to ask. Lance blinked, then shook his head, sitting up from his position. He cleared his throat.

“Weird? No, not weird. You’re weird,” he accused, jumping down from the bed. “Let’s go get food.”

Keith, confused but amused, chuckled and shook his head. “Alright,” he said as he followed after.

Much of the walk there was spent in silence, and Keith watched the sunset, watched the blue of the Big House and the lonely porch swing out front. He looked up into the pavilion, seeing the commotion of kids getting food, scraping into the offering, talking and laughing and crowding into the Hermes table. But Keith’s thoughts wandered back down to the arena, looking at the desolate area and thinking about earlier in the day.

“Thanks for earlier,” Keith said, startling Lance.

“Huh?” Lance asked, brows furrowing in a cute way. Keith shook the thought from his head, refusing to get stuck on that bullshit again.

“When I was sparring Lotor. I shouldn’t have taken it so far.”

“Oh,” Lance said, then shrugged. “No problem. I know how you get.”

“Do you?” Keith asked, genuinely curious. He hadn’t been aware that anyone paid attention to him. Shiro kept tabs on him. Pidge would beat up anyone who messed with him. Lotor did so only to the extent that he could piss him off. But Lance?

“Well, you’re always fighting Lotor, even though no one has beat him. He’s just got way too much luck for it to be worth it. But you think it’s worth it.”

“It’ll be worth it when he understands he can’t always win,” Keith huffed, frustrated and tired all at once. It was always an uphill battle when it came to Lotor. Or, maybe not even uphill. He was on a cliff and Keith couldn’t scale it. There was never any progress.

“But you always go at it when you’re not ready,” Lance pointed out, and Keith’s attention snapped to him. He frowned, ready to protest, but Lance continued. “Your emotions get everywhere, then you tire yourself out, then you won’t think straight. You’re way too impulsive.”

“That doesn’t matter. One of these days, I’ll beat him.”

“Not like that, you won’t,” Lance shook his head. “Hermes kids are like a Jack of All Trades, you know? So I know what it’s like to spread myself between different things. I’m not great at anything, but I can be alright at a couple.”

“You’re selling yourself short,” Keith said without thinking of it, then went red at the compliment. Lance looked at him a bit incredulously and Keith cleared his throat, determined now that he had said it, to explain. “I mean, you’re good at a lot of things, and it’s not just ‘alright’. Being a Hermes kid means you have the capacity to understand a whole lot, and you do.”

“Oh,” Lance said, and Keith turned towards him. His eyes were wide and staring at him, the tips of his ears red in the setting sun. He averted his gaze almost immediately, but Keith’s heart was already thumping wildly in his chest. There was the smallest of smiles on Lance’s lips as he determinedly stared down at his scuffed up tennis shoes, and it made a smile of his own appear on Keith’s face. “Thanks,” Lance said.

“It’s the truth,” Keith replied simply, turning to look back ahead of them again. They were quickly approaching the mess hall.

“Yeah, well, so, it’s like that,” Lance said, clearing his throat and tapping his fingers to his thigh, looking all around, probably to avoid Keith’s gaze. “Beating Lotor isn’t going to rely on just one of your skills. You have to pay attention to a lot more than that. You have to use your head as well as your instincts to figure it out.”

For a moment, Keith was silent. He watched the pavilion where he could see Shiro at the offering fire talking to Pidge’s brother, eyes soft as Shiro laughed at something Matt said. Lotor’s words filled his head again, the accusations he knows everyone must be thinking.

Shiro was the only one who had known just how close Keith had come at one point to actually following Luke out of there. One night, he had exploded with the frustration of it all and Shiro had been the one to calm him down. He’d told Keith not to cling to resentment, to use his head instead of running head first in with anger. It made sense then and it made sense now.

And, surprisingly, coming from Lance, it calmed him down easier than Shiro’s own go at it had. When Lance said it, it sounded like a plan, it sounded like something, not only logical, but attainable.

“I’ll think about that,” Keith said with a nod. Then, they stepped into the pavilion and were swept up in the hassle of kids all around and the delicious smells of dinner.

“And, Keith?” Lance asked. Keith turned to look at him, surrounded by excited kids and sloshing drinks and the smell of sweet burning. Lance scratched his head, looking sheepish, when he said, “About what Lotor was saying to you…”

“About what?” Keith asked, but he had a bad feeling that he knew what. He swallowed, unable to tear his gaze from Lance’s. His worry must have shown on his face because Lance’s gaze softened.

“I know that you aren’t with Luke, and so do a lot of people here. You’ve been at camp for too long to actually think that we could believe that. Too many here have your back for that. You know that, right?”

Keith felt frozen on the outside, but his insides were alive and a squirming hot mess. Suddenly, there was a lump in his throat and he had to look away in order to swallow it down, nodding his head.

“Yeah,” he said as evenly as he could. “Thanks, Lance.”

“No problem, man.”

-/-

“Keith,” Lotor greeted, walking into the arena and making an immediate detour his way. Keith, who had just been sharpening his sword before practice, turned to him with a scowl, clutching the whetstone tighter. He rubbed the pommel of his sword with a thumb, back and forth.

“What do you want, Lotor?” he asked, already on guard. Lotor didn’t have his lackies today, though, and the arena was considerably full of campers, all training for the day. Lotor wouldn’t try to pull anything.

“Our fight was interrupted the other day. Since we both seem to be in for practice, why don’t we give it another go?” Lotor smiled cruelly down at him, flicking a tiny lock of white hair that had fallen into his face away.

“So, you want someone to beat down for the day?” Keith translated, unable to really care about his pride at the moment, especially when a shocked look crossed Lotor’s face. This guy really needed someone who could counteract his powers if he ever wanted to become a better swordsman. Keith would prove that luck couldn’t always win one day, and then Lotor won’t have a single way to get better for those instances.

“I suppose I will have to go easy on you, then?” Lotor asked, rolling his eyes, but Keith shook his head.

“I won’t need it,” he huffed, feeling frustration bubble up inside him. Then, he remembered Lance’s words.

“You’re way too impulsive.”

Impulsive indeed. Keith paused, collecting his thoughts, letting his emotions settle down. He took the time to consider… was fighting Lotor right now a good idea?

He wasn’t tired from practice. And he had sorted out his emotions. His frustration was a dull murmur in his head, but, overall, he could think clearly. If there was ever a time, Keith decided it was now.

So he walked out into the open space, turning to face Lotor, who had done the same. People around the arena seemed to have taken notice and were hushing and gathering, interested to see how another Keith vs Lotor match would go. There were no exchanges of hands in the audience. They all obviously thought they knew how it would go.

And it probably would. Keith had lost to Lotor enough times to realize that, and could think clearly enough to know that he still wanted to try. He would never give up on trying to teach Lotor this lesson: that he couldn’t always win. Since he wouldn’t give up, he might as well learn from the fight.

So he raised his sword, defensive before him and stance low. Lotor tied back his hair, then mirrored the stance. Keith could hear murmurs in the crowd. He breathed one more deep in and out. He was ready as he’d ever be.

Then, he lunged.

Their swords clanged in a metallic ring, screeched as they broke apart, and repeated its reverberations over and over as they each attempted to disarm the other, and put each other in check-mate. He let his body carry him through on instinct, but maintained a clear head, watching to make sure his feet landed correctly, and his blade didn’t skid horribly. He was on the look-out for blatant uses of Tyche’s luck, but it was hard to divide his attention between his opponent and everything else.

One moment, his foot stepped to the side, far from where he’d meant, and he knew what was at play. Lotor’s sword came down to trip him, but Keith moved at the very last second, breathing heavily as the toll of the fight dragged on his limbs. Lotor was fluid and natural, but even he looked to be feeling the effects.

It showed most especially in the increasing number of Keith’s simple screw-ups, things that would have rarely happened had he not been against such strong luck. Somehow, though, he barely dodged each one.

“You have to use your head as well as your instincts to figure it out,” Lance’s voice in his head reminded him.

Balance. It was something Lotor lacked. There was no balance between his wins and losses. There was no balance between his goods and bads. Luck spun everything around Lotor, and he avoided the natural order of the world with it. Keith had lacked balance too, relying on his instinct and frustration to carry him through his battles. Not anymore.

Keith’s sword skidded at an odd angle along Lotor’s blade, heading straight for the dirt below them, and, after that, Keith would be unforgivably open for take-down. He could feel the power behind the move, the golden luck winding its way around Lotor’s blade, blessing it, and its repercussions, its own way of balancing the world, pushing all the bad luck onto Keith’s blade. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.

But this action and reaction were twisting the natural order, pushing things around that weren’t meant to happen. And Keith felt his need to right it.

Then, he pushed that need into the power he felt around him, burning away the luck and bad luck and leaving only the way of the world. He felt it all cancel out, his blade swinging with his weight so that, instead of falling into the dirt, it spun around with his body and fell back on the other side of Lotor’s blade. Lotor, for a moment, looked shell-shocked, before he snarled and bat away the blade.

They were back into the throng of it, metal clangs, the audience’s cheers, sweat in their eyes. Keith could feel the luck working around him, working against him, but he could also feel something else. He could feel it canceling with each of his moves. He could feel the luck withering away.

And Lotor could too. His swings became harder, his spurts of luck more and more desperate. They were both tiring, but, somehow, in some way, Lotor’s luck was running out.

Then, in a display of great irony, Lotor’s foot misstepped. Keith reached forward with his own, hooking around the ankle and pulling. Lotor fell right to the ground, wincing as his head hit the dirt. Keith kicked the sword from his hand, then hovered over his pliant body, surprise on his usually impassive face. He pointed his sword at Lotor’s jugular and called for his concession.

Swallowing, Lotor looked around, then down at the blade at his throat. He must have known Keith wouldn’t hurt him, but the sight seemed to scare him all the same. He’d rarely been in this position in his life, now had he? And the sudden appearance of it must have opened up some sort of crisis in his brain.

“I concede,” Lotor said, his voice shaking, then Keith lowered his sword and offered a hand up.

Surprisingly enough, Lotor accepted, though, once standing on his feet, he fled immediately, not looking back. Keith didn’t have time to dwell on that, though, because, almost immediately afterward, he felt someone tackle into his side.

“Oh my gods, Keith! You did it!” Lance practically shouted in his ear. Keith was stunned, momentarily, by the sudden closeness, and it must have shown on his face because, when Lance looked at him, their faces mere centimeters apart, he stopped short, eyes widening and sucking in a breath. Lance backed away very quickly. “Sorry.”

But Keith just laughed. “That’s alright.”

That was when he heard the crowd around him, all cheering and rushing in with congratulations. Pidge and Hunk were there too, whooping and hollering, and Keith felt a smile grow on his face.

Then, everything stopped. The crowd shushed around him, and they all ceased approaching, suddenly looking wide-eyed. Some were excited, some looked confused others pointed somewhere overhead.

Keith glanced toward Lance, but he was frozen too, looking somewhere above.

Keith looked too.

“Oh,” he breathed, the glowing sigil a dull pulsing glow in the midafternoon sun. Around him, campers started to kneel, as was custom. He watched as they all lowered themselves, like a great wave. Hunk and Pidge knelt, the nymph, sending him a thumbs up when they saw his gaze. He saw, towards the back of the crowd, Shiro approach and kneel, holding a fist to his chest as he watched on in pride. Keith saw so many of his friends from the Hermes’ cabin there, including Romelle, and Allura next to her too.

And he saw Lance, at the front and still closest to him, kneel with a reassuring smile and a nod of his head. Chiron wasn’t present, so Lance seemed to take it upon himself to do the honors.

“All Hail,” he said, voice strong and carrying over the throngs of people, “Keith Kogane, son of Nemesis.”

#requests #klance #vld #voltron #chb au

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