#fanfic stuff

[autumnillustration]

Ahsoka: He's nine. Nine-year-old boys are allowed to pick their noses. I'm willing to bet my boots you picked your nose at nine.

Obi-Wan: I did not. Did you?

Ahsoka: I was never a nine-year-old boy.

(AU where post-banishment Ahsoka gets zapped back to TPM. Link to fic)

[breakfastteatime]

*writing 5k of lead in to get to the original idea that kickstarted this fanfic*

[booksandpaperss]

and the REALLY good ones will probably do it better than canon lmao

[jade-len]

i think it'd be funny if someone transmigrated as xin mo. the goddamn evil sword. instead of taking it seriously, they just really fucked around with bingge. and, somehow, ended up having the opposite effect of what it's supposedly rumored to do.

picture this: bingge, on the quest for revenge and power, comes across the almighty xin mo. this demonic sword killed everyone that dared to even try wielding it. and, the few who were lucky enough to have it by their side, eventually succumbed to the swords' will.

it is said that the sword is unlike any other, that it etches into your head and eats away your brain, until eventually it consumes you whole. it whispers, speaking in lust, greed, and hatred. it slowly beckons the wielder into giving in to the worst part of themselves and feeds off of pure sin. but to him, it is no matter; luo bingge will surely tame it.

and then he gets to the sword.

demonic qi practically oozes from xin mo. the aura surrounding it makes every part of luo bingge scream, "run; get away, away from that monster." his gut prods at him, begging bingge that this is probably a really bad idea. it's a little terrifying, how even luo bingge, the determined, vengeful demon, is now getting second thoughts about wielding xin mo from just being in its presence alone.

but luo bingge is too, a monster. so he ignores the screams of plea; pushing every thought of doubt in the back of his head, and tightly grips onto the handle. the world around him seems to spin and shake, tumble and crack, from the amount of force bingge needs to use in order to pull the sword of sin out of its place.

when bingge finally has it perfectly fit into the palms of his calloused hands, he hears whispering. he knows that the sword has accepted him as its new host.

the sword's language crawls up to him, as if it were feeling around his body and mind. checking every nook and cranny for it to settle into bingge's form, truly becoming one with the embodiment of sin. the words flow through his brain like a tragically broken guqin, a melody that holds him in a frighteningly familiar trance - all while simultaneously eating away at his brain in the worst ways possible, akin to a child and their favorite snack. it seems to beckon something, but even with luo bingge's impressive hearing, he cannot make out any words from the tone-deaf musical notes xin mo sings.

and then, it is clear. the land around him settles, and everything is still. xin mo itself seems to be.. content. at least, that is what luo bingge believes.

the language of this wretched sword reflects the state around these two monsters.

luo bingge expects it to demand for bloodshed, for the erotic ecstasy of multiple women, for bingge to steal the last of the finest gems of these horrible, vast lands.

instead, he hears this:

"yoooo damn that shit was crazy. did you see what i did there? man, you know, it feels so fucking good to get out of the dirt. hey, do you know if people can like, feed their swords or something? i'm kinda craving something spicy. we never know, in this wack world! wait, don't hold me like that, buddy. it'll make things real awkward."

but luo bingge is determined to get his revenge, so he puts up with the swords' constant rambling about.. whatever the hell it's thinking.

"wait, dude, did you seriously fuck a dying girl? that's wild. yeah, like i know she was dying but it doesn't sound like you wanted it. yo, listen to me, consent is very sexy."

"HAHA hey, dude, sir, man. you wanna play some 'i spy'? we don't have anything else to do. no? too bad, we're playing it. i spy a loser who doesn't wanna play i spy. hint: he's holding me right now."

"okay i know i'm supposed to be this super evil sword and beg to be used - woah that sounded real wrong - but can you at least clean me when you're done killing shit? if you don't, i'm gonna refuse to respond to you and you'll look like a dumbass trying to wield me."

"i can't hear you lalalalalalala you're not being very it girl right now lallalalaalalalla-"

somehow, this is worse than if xin mo was actually eating away at his brain.

weirdly enough though, as luo bingge starts spending more time with this weird ass, seemingly possessed sword, it starts to become more of a.. comfort to have it by his side than pure annoyance. he finds himself responding to it more, like, actually having full on conversations with it. it puts him at ease, wielding xin mo. the hatred doesn't consume him, instead, it seems to soothe the burning rage (and, admittedly, just replace it with small irritation) that holds onto his darkened heart.

xin mo is actually quite kind and caring, for a sword that's supposed represent and be the literal embodiment of sin. sure, it is a hassle to have it cooperate with him sometimes, and it does just ramble on and on about the most random things ever, not giving a single shit if bingge was in the middle of sleeping with maidens and slaying those who get in his way. for the first time, bingge feels so comfortable around something.

it's.. odd. what was supposed to be the turning point in his life, a big step in his plan for revenge, is now something akin to an... acquaintance. not like mobei-jun, or any of the women he's come across, but an actual, dare he say, friend.

sometimes, he finds himself thinking all of this delusional. is this what people were driven mad by? perhaps they simply could not handle dealing with a talking sword. he understands that xin mo was undoubtedly unbearable to be around at the beginning of their alliance, but it has never actually beckoned for blood, power, and sex. if anything, it does the opposite.

maybe he's the delusional one. maybe this is xin mo's way of getting to him.

maybe, xin mo should be considered a thing. the thought feels terribly laughable, as if he were witnessing a person horribly explain themselves. it also makes his teeth grind together in pure agitation.

"hey, you know, you didn't deserve any of the things they did. it wasn't your fault, binghe. the fact that you're half heavenly demon doesn't make you a monster, or any of that wild stuff.. uh, i'm here for you, okay? i know you don't really like talking about all of this or opening up, but i just want you to know that you can.. talk about it. it's not like i can tell anyone else, anyways.

hey- shit i didn't mean to make you cry! wait, wait it's okay to cry! you need to let it out anyways, i promise it doesn't make you weak. there, there. i don't have any hands, so me patting you on the head with my handle will have to do. there, there.. everything will be alright, you'll be okay. i'll be here every step of the way, even if you want to get rid of me."

xin mo, the demonic sword, is more of a person - a good person - than anyone he'd ever come across.

...and then bingge and the xin mo transmigrator become besties or he falls for the damn sword. knowing him, he probably doesn't even know the difference between platonic and romantic attraction anyways. maybe bingge gets a plant body for xin mo using airplane's wack writing. idk i typed all of this down in one sitting.

(plot twist: it's not that the transmigrator xin mo had the opposite effect, it was literally just a placebo effect. luo bingge thought that, and thus it actually did help him lmao)

[intermundia]

one secret thing about the relationship between storyteller and story is that the story is not a submissive obedient thing that accepts the will of the storyteller. it fights back and demands to have a certain shape, like characters refuse to do or say things and scenes refuse to appear too early or too late. it's a living thing that you're in a complex and vaguely toxic relationship with as you try to bring it into the world. like sometimes it is actually helpful, loudly suggesting the right path forward, but often it's actively unhelpful, just saying 'nope' over and over until you figure out what it's unhappy about. the more complex the story the more objections it has and the more opportunities to be stubborn as hell. it's truly infuriating to be like "well.. the story won the fight today" because who's the sentient person in this relationship?? me!! and yet...... i still lose.

[pokimoko]

It's been a year to the day since I completed my Eternal Sunshine of the Absent Mind Moon Knight fic trilogy, so I thought I'd commemorate the occasion with some Jake Lockley art inspired by the series, with a dash of A Monster Calls for angsty flavour. Enjoy! 💜

[morningnoodles]

my other favourite thing about bagginshield fics is when the authors write in the initial notes of the fic something along the lines of, "this fic has taken some liberties with canon but if Peter Jackson can do it so can we" because truly: if Peter Jackson can do it, so!!! can!!! we!!!

[cherri-ying]

Sing for me, little Nightingale (Yan! Scaramouche x Reader)

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56024689

Felines are deserving of their accolades. Merit embodies their nimble spines and ductile limbs; bodies like pliable sand, threading their way through knots, twists, cavities and labyrinths. The prince of the hunt flexes and swipes his talons and his victims are swift to falter, their necks wringed and their spines contorted in ways that are unnatural to their physicality.

“I’ve got you now.”

At times, though, even a cat doesn't remain undefeated.

“How stupid are you to think that a cheap disguise would work against me?” He almost sounds amused, his words an arctic hiss against your ear. Reaching up, Scaramouche claws at the thick cloak that veils your face and tears it to your shoulders. Your hair is quick to mime the departed elements, hanging in disarray across your face. A mantilla of unkempt tresses, veiling whatever thoughts sketch your visage.

The Balladeer regards the sight of your person with a sort of contemptuous delight. Forcefully knelt at his feet with your wrists bound behind you and your head drooped in defeat—or in pensiveness. It's a shame Zapolyarny is so devoid of windows. What light finds it's way into these all-too familiar stone chambers is too sparse to see what expression you're making.

“Well? Say something. Or have I rendered you incapable of speech?”

Tentatively—begrudgingly—you tip your head back, back, back until your irises lock with the hypnotic indigo tinctures belonging to the puppet who leers dauntingly above you. Locks of such a hue that only you could wear part like the red sea, revealing a thin, perhaps solemn, ambiguous smile—the last expression the harbinger could anticipate. Or desire.

“Thwarted again, hm?” You chuckle and it sounds like frost, “and I even took extensive measures to conceal my tracks. No good?”

“Failures are bound to repeat themselves.” Scaramouche doesn't nuisance himself with that syrupy facade he wears to rope his targets right between his molars. Malice is a noisome stench in the air as he adds, “This is the seventh time I’ve had to retrieve you. I'd figure you’d have learned your lesson by now, but time after time you insist on making yourself a burden to fetch.”

“There's no harm in trying, is there?” You maintain that strange curve on your plush lips. It’s difficult to tell what you're thinking, or feeling.

“‘No harm’, yet you delude yourself into believing that a time would come when you could successfully evade me. I wonder how long it’ll take until those dreams of yours crumble and die.”

“You know, there’s a word for what you are,” you state after a thoughtful pause. “I think it’s called: overbearing.”

What a strange person, with a strange smile. Normally, Scaramouche would meet such defiance by smiting his poor victim to dust within the blink of an eye. In your displays of resolve, though, the invincible harbinger finds himself crouching to your level, trailing a slender hand against your windpipe. How easily he could squeeze the life from your throat until you begs for reprieve; choke you of your indignation. Instead, he allows it to linger there without purpose, applying no pressure, grasping nothing.

“And there’s a word for what you are.” He nearly whispers. Difficult. Stubborn. Irrevocably his. “Irrational, when I only want what’s best for you. And what’s best for you, is to offer me your complete submission.”

“Even though I’d sooner offer my life than yield to you?” A new tone makes itself heard in your cadence. Such words, such simple, few words, reveal what lingers beneath your otherwise indifferent facade.

Sagacious. Provocative. Challenging.

Of course, you're testing the boundaries of Scaramouche's resolve, as he does with yours. Suddenly, the atmosphere is taut and palpable with tension for what may become of the future.

Sly, sly little songbird.

Something most unanticipated happens, and you reveal your hands, which you freed from their binds. Maybe it shouldn’t surprise Scaramouche, what with your prowess in the art of escape, but regardless your smile stretches in the presence of the astonishment that lifts his eyebrows and makes his eyes flash white, if only briefly. You take your time observing such a paltry display of rare, raw, emotion, how it shapes the contours of his features at the command of your actions. And gently, you take his hand that graces your throat and tenderly place it on your cheek.

"Ah... You've always been this way, haven't you, Kunikuzushi? Since the very day fate first connected your eyes to mine? " You slant your head into his cold hand with all the fragility of a shedding lotus petal descending into a reservoir, resting your cheek against his cold, liquid touch. Although, the action is far from affectionate. Rather, it's reminiscent of a sort of obstinacy, wearing the facade of love.

"You pine for my heart like you're starved for my flesh.” You take his hand and pass it through your cloak, poising it on your chest, right above your pumping heart.

"But... Perhaps I have no heart to offer you. What then? What will you do when you realize, there is no flesh to pick from my bones? No heart beneath my ribs?"

Scaramouche trudges through your words, running them across his mind. No plausible answer makes itself seen. He relinquishes his hand from your chest.

A cat may not have wings, but it is unrelenting.

“If you have no heart…” He murmurs, before smiling a bitter smile, “Then I’ll make you learn how to love.” how to love him. “I’ll create a heart in the shape of my love, and then I’ll take it. By force if I must.”

"You're willing to create something, just to seize and destroy it..." His words taste like blood upon your tongue. Strange. Carrying pleasantry and uncanniness in a sordid congruence. your lips falter from their smile.

"What a rotten soul you have... When will you realize that your avarice will be your demise?"

A wry, perhaps relenting chuckle emerges from your throat. Then you sigh.

"Perhaps we were made for each other." “

Then why do you run from me? Why do you fight, when you’re meant to be mine?” He asks, vehement, pertinacious.

"But that is where you're mistaken, Scaramouche. You see—” You direct your pointer finger to his chest, resting it in the junction between his collarbones.

“—You're tenacious in pursuing me. But I'm," You points at herself, "Tenacious in avoiding you. We are made for each other like the same ends of two magnets. The same, yet destined to be apart."

There it is, another one of your challenging remarks. The chirping nightingale wriggles free and unfurls it's wings, just as the cat thinks the bird is trapped beneath its paws. And oh, how infuriating, how exhilarating you are. Hatred is a simmering tempest that ignites the harbinger's temper. He despises how affixed he is to you, to the thought of trapping you beneath his claws, only for you to fly free and rejoice your liberation in song. It's petty. It's pathetic. It's irresistible. The Balladeer scoffs.

“Is this all just a game of push and pull to you? Just how long are you willing to avoid me?”

 “How long are you willing to pursue me?”

“Until you submit to me.”

“Then, until you set me free.”

Scaramouche can only watch as you put on your hideous, inhuman, anomalistic smile. Fine, then. If nothing else, he’ll build you a gilded cage to lure you into a golden prison disguised as a paradise. He’ll rip your wings from your body, flesh and bone marrow hanging in loose tendrils, so to erase all notions of flying free from your unreadable mind that he tends to make his possession, until you’re bleeding so sweetly beneath his claws. His beautiful songbird, who sings in the shape of his love.

Because you were made for him. He, the heartless one, who wishes for a heart. For your heart, which you are't willing to offer. Which you wish you never had.

You’re the only one who believes he still has a soul; that he ever had one, rotten as it may be.

Scaramouche cannot let that go. Regardless of how many times you flee from his talons, he will find you and chase you to the very ends of this earth.

Fly away, little singing nightingale.

[angelrinisadork]

OC Ask Game

Thought I’d take a crack and make one you guys can reblog and enjoy and play amongst your mutuals.

does your oc have any motifs?

describe your character's voice. do they have a voice claim?

is your character an indoor or outdoor person?

what's your character's favorite recreational activity?

what was your character's dream job as a kid? is it different than what their career ended up being?

what is the thing your oc likes the least about themselves?

what is the thing your oc likes the most about themselves?

what book genre is their favorite?

what book genre is their least favorite?

what kind of music do they enjoy?

has your OC ever fallen in love and with whom?

how well does your OC do in school?

where would your OC like to go on a honeymoon?

An embarrassing secret about your OC?

who is your OC’s best friend?

how does your OC feel about their parents?

how does your OC feel about their siblings?

a memory that still makes your OC angry?

a memory that still makes your OC sad?

a nostalgic memory from your OC’s childhood?

hobbies your OC enjoys?

what is holding your OC back to achieve their goals?

what are your OC’s biggest flaws and biggest strengths?

how does your OC handle death of someone they know?

favorite food and color for your OC?

least favorite food and color?

your OC’s zodiac sign?

is your OC a dog or cat person?

when was their first kiss?

does your OC wish to be married someday?

[yummygender]

I love it when writers on reader x Loki fanfics with the relationship already there, makes Y/N essentially wearing the pants in the relationship.

A Y/N that’ll protect Loki no matter what.

A Y/N that is the definition of ‘Hel hath no fury like a woman scorned’.

A Y/N that even LOKI can get scared of sometimes.

Love it.

It’s my bread and butter of fanfics.

You put in a scene of a deranged Y/N flailing around and cussing at Thanos while Loki is holding her back.

“Easssyyy Love, h-he didn’t meant it…”

“LIKE HEL HE DID!!!!”

Love that.

I need that shit.

[laileth-kalosni]

Look at these images and explain to me how Choso is a soft boy other than headcannons.

Seriously. Explain please

[breakfastteatime]

How dare this game call me out like this...

[booksandpaperss]

me reading my own fic: man this is exactly the kind of story I wanna read it’s almost like this is curated specifically to my tastes wow

[blanketorghost]

A taste of Something New (Pt. 3)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

The new taste is heartbreak, actually <3

This third one was supposed to have the resolution included but I realized this chapter was already 3000 words, also the last part is written in both Azul and Yuu's perspectives so perchance it is best that its separate from this one. Anyways stay tuned for the fourth maybe fifth parts. I may take less than a whole six months this time to write it!

Summary: Against his better judgement, Yuu wants to bring Azul a meaningful souvenir from the scalding sands.

Pairing: Yuu Fujisaki x Azul Ashengrotto (one-sided?), Azul Ashengrotto x Jamil Viper (implied, one-sided)

Timeline: During/Post Al'ab Narya and Ch. 4. Pre Ch. 5

Notes: Azul may be OOC? Have never been good at writing him convincingly imho

—

With a pep in his step and a nervous smile, Yuu exited the light music club. He'd mulled over it in class, planned his speech during lunch, and agonized over the details after school. He didn't even play anything during club time, even after an eternity of Kalim whining and goading him to join in with the rest of the members.

The light music club was just right across the board game club, and even if he would've spent time in there anyway, today all he could do was anxiously look at the slightly ajar door a few steps away. Would it be too weird if he just came in and gave him the book?

Yeah... definitely.

Honestly, the best option here was to just hand it to him after club session's over. He just needed to casually greet him and give him the book as the guise of a souvenir. He could explain the details later.

But what if he came out with a friend? He didn't really trust on his guts enough to think he could give him the gift then, he'd have to brainstorm new possibilities for encounter.

He clutches the piece tightly against his chest, wrapping paper crinkling to his touch.

"Wat'cha looking at, Yuu-chan?"

Cater's voice takes him out of his trance, rudely interrupting that vicious cycle of what-ifs and but-thens he'd already crafted in his brain about optimal gift-giving times.

"Oh, uhm..." He hides the package under his blazer and looks at the ground, hoping to find a good excuse inside the cracks on the floor. "I needed to ask for Azul's help for something about the gourmet club. I was hoping if I gave him something in return, he might say yes more easily."

"Really? Well, good luck with that." Cater raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms. "I've heard around the grapevine that Azul-kun's been super stingy about creating his famous contracts now. It's a shame. I was totes hoping we could do some sponsorship deal where I advertised the lounge on Magicam for free meals..."

"Huh. I guess he really turned a whole new leaf with that whole..." Yuu trails off as he smiles in spite of himself. He wasn't very sure that that was the reason Azul had stopped, but he could at least pretend maybe he had caused a positive change. A bit of wishful thinking never hurts anybody. "Never mind, I mean- Thanks for the warning. But I think he would be really interested in what I have to offer." He waves Cater off.

"Well, I mean, if you wanna you can use the points I've been saving up at the lounge to get a meeting, I honestly get them mostly for the discounts on seasonal meals, but I don't min-"

"Oh, I already have enough points for a meeting." Yuu takes his loyalty card from his pocket. Usually, he used the points to get some tutoring sessions for Grim or get him a study guide. It was convenient, and Azul's teaching method was the only one that actually worked. Yet, he had decidedly started to save up for a private meeting right before the City of Silk trip. He knew Azul was busy and stingy with his time, but if all other attempts to talk to him failed, he had to at least hear him out If he used his points, right?

"Aw, you're all prepared and everything! Gotta give it to Yuu to always be one step ahead." Cater gives him a smile, then checks his phone and sighs, cheerful demeanor diminishing slightly. "Welp. I gotta go to my dorm now. It's my turn to feed the flamingos. Good luck with your Gourmet Club business stuff!"

"Yeah, thanks." Yuu waves at all the members of the light music club, and, one by one, the classroom was left empty.

It feels like an eternity before the classroom adjacent to him opens its door, and he waits and waits for the students inside to tidy up and put back everything in their shelves until finally, the members of the Board Game Club also say their goodbyes for the day.

He could hear someone ranting inside the classroom to seeminly no one in particular, some students groaning or shaking their heads as they left the room. Some time later, Azul's voice rises through the chatter to retort to that one ranting, most likely. He scans the crowd until he finally sees a white tuft of hair exit from the room, black gloved hand raising to say his goodbyes to the people that were still inside.

He was always so outwardly nice and polite, he really just had a way of charming people, really. If only he used that power of his for better purposes... still, he couldn't deny the fact that that scheming was also attractive. Very much so, in fact. There was a reason why Yuu ended up falling for him so fast, after all.

“Yuu-san?” Yuu doesn't even notice when Azul turns to see him, his eyebrows arching in surprise.

“Ah- Uh– Azul-” He can barely string out a coherent sentence as he scrambles to hide the package behind his back— wait, what was he doing?! “I just… wanted to say hi.”

“Well then, hi.” Azul flashes him a smile. “It's nice to see you. Perhaps we could talk more at length later, though. I have to get the lounge ready for openin-—”

“Wait!”

Oh dear, that came out louder than what he intended.

Yuu clears his throat, taking a second to look down at the floor to compose himself. “Can't you spare a couple of minutes? It won't take long.”

“I'm sorry, Yuu-san. But I need to help Floyd prep the ingredients for today's menu and make sure Jade doesn't tamper with any of them, I'm sure you understand.”

“I see…”

“If you want, though, I could maybe clear up some time later?”

“I was actually hoping we could meet today… If you have time.” It's like Yuu's body was working on its own, completely overriding the script he'd had so carefully prepared. He was supposed to just give him the gift. “I wanted to talk to you about something important.”

Oh dear sevens, now he was making things sound way more serious than needed. Just give him the gift already!

“Ah.” … Did Azul just blush right now? Maybe he was seeing things. “I think I am free, but I'll ask Jade to schedule you.” He purses his lips. “I'll… Send you a text with the details later this evening.”

“Alright.” Yuu holds his breath as he hands Azul the card, who then rips it in half to signify it's been redeemed. “I’ll… Be waiting, then.”

With that, Azul flashes him another small smile and nods.”I’ll see you later, then.”

“Yeah… see you later.” 

Azul gives Yuu a small wave as he walks away, looking back just once to examine him before turning his heel towards the hallway at the left. And when Azul is out of view, he feels his nerves give out just a little bit…

just a little.

...

What... was he thinking?!

In his panic, he had used up what was supposed to be his hail mary. Sure, Azul was a busy guy and maybe he wouldn't be able to talk to him in a couple of days, but the recipe book could wait!

Giving the book to him after club activities was just a first option, he could've come up with others later. Save his points too!

Ugh, he really needed to learn not to blank when being alone with Azul.

~ 

It’s only 5:00 PM when Yuu receives that fabled message from Azul. 6:00 to 7:00 PM.

Huh, he thought meetings were only supposed to last 15 minutes. Perhaps Azul was feeling generous today. He wouldn’t be needing all that time, though.

Still, Yuu felt one hour to prepare was nearly not enough. Now that his initial courage waned after his first failed attempt, all he could feel was a growing pit in his stomach as he got ready. He didn’t want to keep Azul waiting, though. And before he knew it, he was already at the door of Mostro Lounge. Five minutes early, too.

“Good evening, Yuu. Here for your meeting?” Jade bows as he approaches, and Yuu reflexively bows to him as well. “I hope your conversation is productive.”

“Ah… yeah. Is Azul still in a meeting? I can wait if need be.”

“Oh, not really. Azul only accepted your request for today. You’re the only client he’ll be seeing.” Jade gives him a wide, closed-eyed smile. If his aim was to soothe him, it had the exact opposite effect on Yuu, getting a small jolt of adrenaline course through his body when he bares witness to that creepy grin of his. “In fact, you can go in now, if you’d like.”

“... Right.” Yuu slowly nods and starts walking towards the door, allowing Jade to open it for him. It’s not like the VIP lounge was an unfamiliar sight. In fact, he often found himself hanging out with Azul there, doing homework or chatting the afternoon away while Azul filled out some paperwork. It was a pleasant, quiet environment. Something Yuu severely lacked in his daily life.

As soon as the door opens, Azul looks up from his desk and smiles, lowering his right hand and placing his pen down. “Yuu-san. You’re early.” He states, then uses his left hand to gesture at the chair in front of him. “Take a seat. Do you mind if I continue working while we talk?”

“Hi…” Yuu gives his crush a sheepish smile as he walks over, Jade closing the door behind him. As he sits down, he can now feel a paradoxical heat irradiate from his chest. Wasn’t he just feeling chills before? “And no, of course not. Please continue.”

“Thank you. How was your weekend? Jade mentioned that you and some other students went to a festival.”

“Oh, yeah. Kalim-kun invited us to the firelit festival at his hometown. The Silk City at the Scalding Sands.” Yuu explains, trying to get more comfortable in the leather-bound chair. It usually felt so plush, but now he couldn’t seem to find a good, comfortable position. “Viper showed us around town.”

"So I trust you had a pleasant trip, then?" Azul lifts his head up from his papers and flashes another friendly smile.

It took Yuu weeks of careful observation and millions of failed attempts to discern a genuine smile from Azul Ashengrotto. But once he got that first laugh, that first smirk or chortle, he committed it to memory. It wasn't too different from his all-business one— he still crinkled his eyes and kept his mouth shut. But there was a way in which his lips curled outwards too much, and his brows furrowed ever so slightly when he would pretend.

He was glad Azul would naturally smile more around him.

"It was very fruitful," Yuu leaves the package on his lap, and leans forward. He rests his chin on the back of his palm as he glances at Azul's writing. "Can I ask what you're working on today?"

"You can, and I'm just taking some notes after receiving the most recent customer reviews." Azul keeps smiling as he resumes scribbling at the margins of what Yuu can now see are printed out screenshots of some website. "What brings you here today? If you're looking for a position, permanent or temporary, I unfortunately have no spots open right now."

"Pity." Yuu hums as he eyes some of the comments. The amount of hate had certainly decreased in the months after his overblots. "I could help with accounting if you'd like. I used to do that sometimes."

"I've got that covered. I actually quite enjoy doing the math myself." Azul's smile turns into a small smirk. Cute know-it-all pout included. "I really do mean it when I say I have no spots today. It's a shame, though. I do enjoy you being around the lounge."

Right there, Yuu's heart does a flip.

"Thank you. But actually, that's not the only reason I'm coming here today." He would've liked to. If anything, most of Yuu's time was spent thinking up excuses to come to the lounge more often and not become broke in the process, but today was more of a do-shit-and-dip kind of deal. "And I'll preface, I've used my loyalty points for this meeting. So you have to hear me out."

Azul's eyes widen slightly in surprise, and he looks up once again, placing his fishbone pen on its holder. "Ah, right. You did tell me you had something important to tell me.” He purses his lips, and a hint of pink appears on his cheeks once more. “I'm listening."

Yuu has to consciously stop himself from taking a deep breath and betraying his nervousness. Instead, he straightens up and moves his hands to hold the book. "Well, I've been told that you've been looking for ways to freshen up the menu for this coming month, and..."

"If Grim has somehow convinced you to try and pitch me a tuna-themed menu, tell him I'm still not interested." Azul’s expression tenses as he  speaks in a serious tone, but Yuu can't help but snort at the answer.

"No, no. It's not that." Yuu covers his mouth with a hand as he regains his composure. "Has he actually tried to do that? Or— wait, I'm getting off-topic. But it's not Grim nor tuna related, promise."

“He may have once or twice.” He says nonchalantly as he places the papers aside, and, upon hearing Yuu's response, Azul's placid smile returns, and his posture relaxes a bit, crossing his arms. "I'm all ears, then.”

"Well, during my trip to Silk City, I had the opportunity to sample some of the popular dishes," Yuu starts. He'd created this pitch before he even got to writing the recipes down themselves. He knew that, with Azul, he needed to make his offer to actually look alluring— appetizing, even, if he were to even entertain the possibility of a novice cook gifting recipes to him. "And I've found some interesting recipes you might like." Azul opens his mouth to speak, but Yuu quickly starts again. "And before you tell me that I am in no position to pitch you any possible dishes, or that you've already stocked up on Scalding Sands recipe books, I'd like you to take a look at what I've brought first."

He slowly takes the wrapped book from his lap and hands it to Azul with both his hands. It takes Yuu all his self-control to keep his hands from shaking as Azul, now perplexed, and perhaps curious, takes the package and examines it. 

Their hands touch.

Please, for everything that's sacred, please don't let him blush.

Azul stares at it blankly for a few seconds before he takes off the tape that holds the bottom fold of the package together and slides the notebook from its wraps. And as soon as he does, the aroma of various spices strike both their nostrils. Cumin, Saffron, Paprika— all generously donated by the Asim's cooks.

It also strikes Yuu for the first time just how humble the notebook looks compared to the luxurious office. It looked out of place, foreign, and Yuu couldn't help but purse his lips in slight embarrassment. "I... Um..." God, this wasn't the time to start stammering!

"I... Interviewed the staff from Kalim's kitchens... and gathered as many recipes I could find." As Yuu steadies his voice, Azul starts turning the pages. Expression completely unreadable. "Most of these, they told me, were passed down through generations of trial and error, and I- well, I also documented each dish as best as I could."

"The Asims were kind enough to also allow me to sample their spices. Each is paired with a dish, but I made sure to gather enough for you to experiment if you wish to." Yuu's eyes leave Azul's face and look down at the pages, goodness knows he needed to take a break from trying to figure him out if he didn't want to just faint right then and there, and he was already feeling that annoying lump in his throat that threatened another mistake in his speech. "I know it'd be futile to just buy you a recipe book, since you'd probably have many, so I tried my best to gather as many recipes as possible from a variety of sources.... I, um..."

“I can't accept this. I'm sorry."

Yuu's eyes widen as he gains that same blank expression. His words hit him like a truck, and nothing could've softened that punch to his got nor the sense daze he was struck by. "... Huh?"

“I appreciate the effort you put into this, but… if you were strapped for money, you didn't need to get me anything.” A sharp, stinging pang pierces right through his chest, and Yuu feels mouth go dry. His body is somehow tense yet limp, and he just now notices how cold the VIP room is. "Jade probably mustn't have told you. But it's a personal policy of mine not to accept any gifts." Azul's brows furrow, whether it were with pity or sternness Yuu couldn't care to figure out. "Leaves too many loose ends for me to follow, you see."

"... I..." Yuu's left speechless as Azul puts the wrapping paper over the book and nudges it towards him, sliding it over the dark wood desk. "... I don't want anything for it, really." Yuu's voice is drained of any confidence as he meekly whispers, still in shock. "You can even make me sign a contract if you want."

"And as kind as your offer is, I can't make any exceptions." Azul shrugs, and Yuu's heart sinks. His tone isn't even laced with a sense of remorse or pity. It's... completely and utterly calm as he rejects Yuu's work. “Besides, as you've mentioned, I most likely already have the recipes somewhere in my library. Though having them all compiled in one is certainly convenient, I'd rather do so myself.”

"I still want you to have it." He glances down and leaves the book on the desk, untouched, then takes a step back.

“Yuu… It really isn’t─”

"If you don't want it as a gift, then take it... t-then take it as trash or-..." he breathes in, "Anyway. What matters is that it's yours. Throw it away, sell it, I don't care. But it's yours." He tries to act nonchalant, but he can already feel the lump in his throat becoming larger, cutting any air from getting to his lungs.

Why did he even say that?!

Anyways, before Azul can say or do anything else, Yuu simply walks out the VIP Lounge and out of Octavinelle. He pushes out a smiling Jade and ignores a greeting from Floyd. The atmosphere was just so heavy, suffocating. And all in all, Yuu was sure this was the most pathetic he'd acted in front of Azul ever.

And all he could hear was the sound of Floyd's annoyed whine to his brother just as he crossed the mirror portal door.

"Heeeeyyyy~~ what is up with Shrimpy today~??”

[intermundia]

The characters Anakin and Obi-Wan are so interesting to me as an author because the voice I hear in my head when I'm writing dialogue for each shifts between live action and TCW depending on context. When I write Anakin, if he's wearing his public face, interacting with strangers or groups, I hear his dialogue in Matt Lanter's voice. When Obi-Wan has his public face on, I hear JAT's voice, which is crisper, drier, cooler. Only when Obi-Wan and Anakin are talking only to each other privately do I hear Ewan and Hayden. I hear more warmth and intimacy in Ewan's voice, and more breathy, emotionally raw intensity in Hayden's. I think this matches the tone of the prequels vs TCW as well, TCW is not very emotional, it never dwells in trauma. TCW Anakin is very action first, full hero mode, but we rarely see him be vulnerable, and he never cried in the cartoon. Hayden's Anakin cries, you know? Obi-Wan in TCW is mostly more remote and less empathic. He's a general with clipped impatience in his tone half the time. He is relentlessly resilient and occasionally grim with a wry twist. Ewan's Obi-Wan is more emotive, his performance fueled by more warmth and kindness that is stretched to the breaking point. The hushed intimacy of the moment of saying farewell to Anakin in the RotS is etched in my brain. So my characterization is fluid between the two voices of each character based on the context, and I hear the version of the character more relevant to a scene, it's neat. 

[morningnoodles]

very tiny detail that i love in bagginshield fics is Bilbo's light feet resulting in Thorin and any of the dwarrow being completely caught off guard when he seemingly appears out of nowhere