#so erm idk how LONG i will be tagging for but i will try to put anything spoilery under the tag “khml spoilers”

[lunar-fey]

sorry in advance for the person i will become when missing link comes out. btw

[tojiscrack]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐍

pairing: megumi fushiguro x reader

summary: 18k words — you and megumi meet for the first time and experience kindergarten together.

notes: this is the fic i’ve been working on for a little while. a childhood friends to lovers with megumi because he’s so underrated (and deserves better!!). updates will be slow, but only because the chapters will range from 10-12k and maybe even more. check the tags to see if this story will interest you — i’ll make sure to add the tropes, what to expect, and the general gist of it all <3 enjoy! here is also sneak peak (a small scene from some of the future chapters) to be certain that this is the story for you :)))

tw: slightly bad english in dialogue (done on purpose as the characters presented are kids), y/n (she deserves her own warning), and idk, offended gojo

i do not own any of the characters of jjk, i only own the character of y/n and her mother. the other characters belong to gege akutami.

next chapter :)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

2007-2008 kindergarten

you sat on the floor, the rough carpet scratching up against your shorts as you flattened out your skirt in preparation for your story-telling. the loud giggles around you had quietened notably. your classmates sat in a full circle, all facing you with contained anticipation and exhilaration. kimberly garnett sat with a fist in her mouth, grinning widely at you. malakai abara sat on his knees, bent forward with a smile on his face as he twisted the little dreads on his head with his small finger. the rest of the kids simply awaited, laughing as you reached for the toy torch and held it beneath your chin.

silently, you flipped the switch on... or rather struggled to flip the switch on. you heard several sighs from around you as you took the time to figure out what the issue was, until at last, the light had turned on (and blinded you in the process).

clearing your throat, you sat up straighter, eyes half-lidded as your story began:

"a long, long time ago, far away, once upon a time, there was a girl... and her name was bloody mary," you began, slowly. the other kids watched you with wide eyes. "she was killed by some bad guy. and then he trapped her inside a mirror."

"but how?" ayaan miah had asked, looking fearful.

you regarded him with little care.

"none of your beeswax, anyways! erm — so basically — erm — oh my god, ayaan! look what you done! now i can't remember!"

every kid in the circle whined and moaned out ayaan's name, frustrated at the boy's interruption. you shut your eyes, attempting to remember, and when you had opened them, you had been met with ayaan's flushed brown skin. you decided that you would save him then, seeing as you had remembered the story once more.

"wait guys, it's fine. i remember now."

everyone sighed in relief, their smiles returned.

"okay, so..." you sighed. "now when kids are being very bad, my mommy says that if you go in the mirror and say 'bloody mary' three times and then you spin around — then — then — then she's gonna come out and then she's gonna get her long nails and then she's — she's gonna try and kill you. and then there's gonna be so much blood."

your eyes passed each and every one of their faces, scanning their features; they looked traumatised.

from the corner of your eye, you caught slight movement. immediately, your head turned in that direction, met with the sight of amira khalil shakily raising her hand. it seemed that she had wanted permission to speak — you nodded your head at her, encouraging her to voice her thoughts.

"is there any way to save yourself?" she said timidly.

her wise question had led the rest of the kids to nod and look at you with big, curious eyes, seemingly pleased with her question and wondering what the answer would be.

you thought for a moment, scratching your head and accidentally moving the hair clip your mother had placed in your hair. you quickly adjusted it and then placed both your hands on the torch again, ready to answer.

"so, basically, you can pretend to die," you told them carefully. you did not like how the smiles on their faces had returned, looking satisfied with your response.

the kids had immediately begun speaking to each other, excitedly having discussions about how bloody mary was not ever going to be able to get them now that they had found a solution. you narrowed your eyes at them, a sneer on your face as you loudly interrupted the discussions.

"but!" you had said loudly. their attention was back on you, frowns forming and smiles disappearing. that's better, you had thought to yourself. "not to bubble your burst... but — but — like, she can get her finger and put it underneath your nose to see if you're breathing. and you can't hold your breath because she will hold it there for a long time," you added quickly as the smartest kid in your class (alexa clement) opened her mouth to put in her input. she had shut it as soon as the last word had been uttered.

kimberly garnett had long since taken her fist out of her mouth, not looking nearly as content as she had once been when she had first taken a seat across from you on the carpet.

"i think i'm scared..." she said, hesitantly.

you nodded, chin in the air. "yeah, you should be. but i'm not scared."

"huh?" gasped david yeboah, mouth parted in shock (similar to the rest of the kids in the circle). "how? what if she comes to kill you if you call her?"

you had your answer prepared since the moment you had stepped past the doors of the kindergarten building that morning.

"um — she — she's my friend, so — um — she won't kill me. and she said that if you guys don't give me your toys, then she will kill you," you explained, watching as they had all started scrambling to find their toys and place them by your feet.

another successful story-telling day.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

tired of playing with the same old toys, your boredom had reached its peak and you had decided that you would venture about and find something else to do. standing up, you stretched out your little legs and went waddling over to the toy box, searching for anything else to dig out and begin entertaining yourself with.

the toy box had been placed opposite to the teachers desk (which was also situated beside the interactive whiteboard). the rest of the room had five separate group tables leaving the centre of the room empty and bare (space for you and your classmates to sit on the floor when miss huckleberry would sing a nursery rhyme or read a boring story book).

the toys were not appealing to the eye, but you had just seen elena holland playing with a princess doll — you wanted it. it looked pretty, and squinting your eyes from a distance told you that the princess was actually rapunzel.

you wanted it even more now. rapunzel was the best disney princess in your opinion. you wanted that doll.

elena holland had always sat and listened to your scary stories, she had quietly listened to every single one of them since the first ever group circle had been initiated. therefore, by default, the doll had to be yours.

confidently, you marched up to elena, smiling as she noticed you approaching. you did not beat around the bush, nor did you attempt to sugar coat what you wanted.

"you have to give me that doll."

and the most shocking thing had happened to you after that.

elena had said:

"no."

startled, stupefied, and shocked, you looked back at her, scanning her pale face with disgust. you would give her the benefit of the doubt... perhaps with all the stories you had told, maybe she had forgotten the rules, the outcomes, or the consequences of not listening to your instructions.

that was quite all right. you were more than happy to remind her.

"okay, well, because you said no to me, bloody mary is my friend and she's gonna come and kill you... so yeah."

and you had found yourself absolutely flabbergasted when the girl had a well-prepared response to that. it had clearly been thought out.

"that's not true," said elena.

you frowned. "huh?"

"bloody mary's not real," she clarified for you, as if you had made up the story for your own enjoyment (which, you had, but that was not the point).

you resisted the urge to snatch the doll from her hands and run off with it, uncaring of whether she cried or not, unbothered as to whether you would end up in the naughty corner for the third time that day. your only concern was who had broken the news to her, who had ruined the entire purpose of your stories.

probably a teacher, you thought to yourself, scowling in annoyance.

well now it meant that you had to repair the damage. what a hassle.

"someone told me," elena added, as though that comment was ever so helpful (it was not).

"okay," you shrugged, acting careless. "don't blame me when bloody mary comes to you at night. i warned you."

elena had not wasted any more time in giving you the doll; you were pleased

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

the next few days were rather unpleasant. you had not been in the greatest mood on one particular morning: the sun had woken you up that day, your mother had forced you to go in to kindergarten despite your strong protests, you had lost the class game, and you had been sent to the naughty corner at one point — which, on a normal day, would not have bothered you in the slightest: the issue lied with the stupid assistant teacher that had been told to watch over you because apparently, you could not be trusted to stay put. not to mention, you had an extra ten minutes in comparison to the other kids.

you had no plans on doing your typical story-tellings, yet your other classmates had been bugging you since the moment you had passed the double doors on your way in. initially, you refused them, in foolish hopes of the fact that they'd accept it and move on.

they didn't.

they pleaded for your story, claiming that they would truly stay silent, no questions, as you entertained them. you did not believe it, not even a sock could silence the annoying giggles and chatter of those classmates of yours.

but to stop their consistent begging, you had given in (albeit, reluctantly) and not long after, you found yourself sitting in that circle again, waiting for everyone to gather themselves.

"oh my god, kenji, shut up!" you scolded the dark haired boy who had been laughing loudly and preventing you from starting. your tone was harsh, aware that this particular classmate of yours would not take any offence to your comments towards him (unlike anyone else, who you knew would end up in tears, resulting in you sitting in that naughty corner once again).

"sorry," kenji lee chuckled, but you could not help but think that he did not look one bit sorry.

as the chatter around you began to die down, you repressed the urge to rip the stupid bow placed on your head that had been pulling on a particular strand of your hair for some time, and throw it at someone (kenji).

impatiently, you handed the torch to the girl next to you: you had very little tolerance for the struggle of attempting to switch the light on without wasting time. as you waited for her to click it on, you noticed that she was a newcomer, you had never seen her in class and you knew for a fact that she was not in the other class either. surely you would have been told?

the girl proved to be helpful, she had successfully switched the torch on and with a small 'thanks', you took the torch from her hands and placed it beneath your chin (again, almost blinded from the angle of the light shining just below your eyes).

this time around, you did not waste time with a slow introduction to your story, caring less and less for the enjoyment of your peers.

"so there was this man and his name is freddy krueger," you began, watching confusion rise on your classmates' faces. perhaps they were used to your long introductions (the typical 'once upon a time' etc). you did not care for it. "he used to be very handsome and then his wife found out that he was cheating on her and then burnt his face."

as promised, none of the kids raised their hands to ask 'how?' or question something very obvious. your bad mood had been knocked down an inch.

"so now he comes for naughty kids who keep cheating in games," you stated, staring specifically at christopher allen who you strongly believed to have cheated in order to win the class game that morning (stupid miss huckleberry had been adamant that he had truly won fair and square).

the silence that you had been revelling in for a short moment had been interrupted harshly. you'd heard malakai's aggravating voice distract you, ripping you from your hardening glare towards christopher, whose eyes were slowly starting to water for whatever reason.

"did fred have —"

you interrupted him.

"no you can't call him that, only i can."

malakai's eyebrows raised so far up, there were lines on his forehead. another voice cut in through the conversation: it was abby milton.

"y/n, how are you friends with every single bad guy?" she had asked, curious.

you had no choice but to step in and correct her.

"they're not bad guys because i changed them so yeah... they're mis— mis— misuntood."

you were ninety-nine percent sure that none of the kids in the circle knew what that word meant, but none of them dared to ask.

"oh, i forgot," you added, just as you had nearly placed the torch away. hurriedly, you brought it right back beneath your chin. "if — if — if — if you, like, don't keeping on telling off me... then he... umm... yeah, he won't kill you."

you did not specify (with your eyes or your voice) who you were referring to, but you had decided that the same went for the rest of the kids anyway. that naughty corner would be the death of you, you were sure of it. at least now, with this threat looming over their heads, you would not be in the naughty corner for a long, long time to come.

shortly after, you had quickly put the torch away and made your way to the book corner, attempting to entertain yourself with some of the new books the kindergarten had gotten. several of the other kids had decided that they were not done yet, that they still had questions that remained unanswered about freddy krueger. the only thing that deterred them was the threat that you would never tell another story if they bothered you this much again. 

looking disappointed, and mildly annoyed, they had walked off, grumbling about how they had no way to protect themselves from yet another evil entity. you shrugged it off, distracted by the pretty fairy lights and cushions decorating the book shelf. pleased with the presentation of the area, you admired the way the warm colour emanated from the little light bulbs attached to the silver wire. several posters lined the top of the bookshelf, promoting 'silent reading' and so on.

accompanying you some time later had been abby milton, complaining about how she wanted you to give more clarification about freddy krueger (you tried not to sigh loudly, thinking about how you had only just gotten peace about the matter).

"i'll tell miss," she decided on saying at last, something that had finally caught your attention after practically ignoring her pleas since the moment she had sat down beside you.

"freddy krueger will come get you in night time then."

and you were certain (after she had voiced out her response to that) that you were facing deja vu for the first time.

"somebody said you're lying," said abby, swiping her messy hair away from her face. "somebody said freddy krueger isn't real."

you attempted to mask over the fury you had now adopted, trying to hide the mix of confusion and curiosity too: as if your mood wasn't already terrible, you were practically a ticking time bomb, and the timer was slowly reaching its peak.

but your suspicions were now confirmed — there was someone out there sabotaging you: if it had been a teacher, like you originally suspected, then, one: you would have found yourself in time out again, and two: she wouldn't have threatened to tell off of you, seeing as the teacher would have already known about it.

it was one of your classmates. you were certain now.

reminded of the fact that not all of your peers entered the circle of your story-telling time, you could narrow down your options. someone outside of the circle was your culprit.

but again, you were not in the mood to spend the time investigating. so, instead, you decided to flat out ask her who this mystery person was.

"well they're a liar," you said, standing up and dusting yourself off, looking around. "they basically want you to get — to — to die." you looked down at her, brows furrowed. "anyways who even said that?"

"megumi."

and now you were more than offended. you were absolutely ready to beat down a boy, but for a fellow girl to turn around and stab you in the back with no remorse? that stung. it felt like she (whoever she was) had plunged a knife right through your back and pushed it all the way to your heart, practically carving out your insides to her pleasure.

ignoring her calls for you, you walked away and exited the classroom, standing in the playground and looking furtive. the sun shone over the unused bikes and the abandoned hula-hoops on the floor as members of both classes ran around and played together. the sight hurt your eyes, the headache of yours stirring even further and worsening with each passing minute.

and what was worse? malakai, that annoying peer of yours, had appeared in front of you somehow. you had looked away for a mere second, how had he reached you without your awareness?

"can you please tell me what freddy krueger stays away from? i'm scar—"

"listen," you started, the timer in you now at one digit numbers, "i forgot to say that fred also kills people who keep bov— bovering me, so you have to leave me alone."

just when you thought you were done with this conversation, someone else had decided to join in, but once they had spoken...

you were certain your hunt for the enemy had been over.

"stop lying."

leisurely, your head turned. it seemed as though a thousand years had gone by, but really, it had only been a short fifteen seconds till you had turned enough to be met with the sight of a... a boy?

a million and one questions had passed your mind in that short moment you made eye contact with the boy who looked as though you had eradicated his entire bloodline. had you misheard abby? you were certain the name of the sabotag-er was megumi, a girl name. 

but you were absolutely, one hundred percent, definitely certain that this boy was unquestionably the one going around ruining your plans, corrupting the minds of your classmates to turn them against you.

and the kid looked goofy too, you had thought, with his dark-as-night hair standing on all ends, his equally-as-dark eyes half-lidded as if he had not a care in the world, and his face forming an unmoveable frown, looking more than unimpressed. 

well that made sense. the metaphorical knife was now non-existent, since your initial assumption had been correct — it was a dumb boy after all.

"who," you began, defensive, "are you? i've never even seen you in my life."

but it wasn't (who you assumed was) megumi that answered. you had just realised that malakai was still in the picture.

"that's megumi guro!" he had said, loud and clear.

you regarded him with a short look before staring back at megumi guro, who had somehow appeared more grumpier than when you had first gazed at him. 

"it's fushi-guro," said megumi what's-his-face.

you scowled at him. 

"if you keep saying that again and again and again, freddy krueger's gonna come to you in the —"

"he's not even real."

malakai had gasped. you glared at megumi fushiguro.

"you know what? you're not even real megumi fushigo!"

"it's fushiguro," he repeated, stoic.

"i said that."

"no you didn't."

malakai had disappeared by this point, perhaps bored with this interaction between you and megumi fushiguro.

"yes i did," you repeated, frustrated. no other kid had ever challenged you, this megumi child was starting to put a bad taste in your mouth.

"no you —"

"yeah stop subject changing."

"you mean changing the subject."

"oh my gosh!" you exclaimed, scratching at your thigh which proved to be unsatisfying seeing as your tights were in the way. "you listen here with your girl’s name! you are a girl!"

"..."

megumi fushiguro had not said anything for a while, choosing to stay silent as he stared back at you. uncertain of whether you had seen it properly, but you could have sworn that you'd seen his eye twitch ever so slightly.

"not a girl's name," he grumbled quietly.

you gave him a tight-lipped smile. 

"liar, liar, pants on fire!" you shouted, pointing at him like he had committed a brutal crime in front of your very eyes. smug, you looked at him with a real smile this time. "who's the liar now?"

but megumi's response had come just as quick as you had finished yours.

"still you."

"no, it's both of us!"

"you just admitted to lying."

"..."

astounded, staggered, and stupefied, you stared back at megumi, mouth parted and jaw dropped. you had only just realised your mistake there, the smugness you had previously adopted now diminished and killed just as it had come. nobody had ever rendered you speechless before, you had always gotten your way. usually, people would simply leave you to have the last word in defeat, but this megumi... megumi had got you there, because you just had admitted to lying.

"...MIIIIIIISS, megumi slapped my butt!"

"megumi did not slap your butt y/n."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

"now you want to go to school, huh?" your mother mused as she pulled your hair back into a ponytail and began tying a silk ribbon into it.

it had been a week since you had met megumi fushiguro, and since then, it seemed as though he was everywhere. every story you had scared your other classmates with, he just had to be there to tell them the truth, corrupting them (in your eyes).

he had been actively undoing every tale you would tell and it was starting to irritate you. the only way you could win this silent battle was actually attending kindergarten, even if you had a pounding headache and had woken up on the wrong side of bed.

now you were seated on the floor, your mother on the soft couch as she worked to style your hair.

"i don't want to go," you grumbled, hissing when your mother had accidentally pulled at your hair ('oh, sorry honey'). "but i have to."

"yes, you do," your mother hummed in agreement, and you had quickly corrected her.

"no, not like that, mommy," you said, playing with the ends of your skirt as you attempted to explain yourself and what you really meant. "i have to because — because there's this really dumb boy that's just keeping on ruining things.”

"you mean keeps on ruining things?"

you sighed loudly, feeling restless. at the moment, the way you spoke was the least of your concerns. your mother could correct you later, not when you were in distress.

"i'm sorry, go on," she said, but you could hear the amusement in her voice, as if she’d made an attempt to mask her laughter (it didn't work). "what's his name?"

"he has a girl name," you said, feeling smug again. “i told him he has a girl name.”

"y/n, that's not nice," said mom, although she was gentle with her scolding.

"he's not nice," you replied defensively. “anyways, his name is megumi."

your mom laughed softly, tightening your pony tail and then leaning forward to fix the baby hairs with a bit of gel. she knew to use very little of it seeing as you disliked the way it felt on your head.

"that is a girl name, isn't it?"

"mhm," you nodded ('y/n don't move, i'll make a mistake).

"but…” she said, lifting you and putting you on the couch so you were now facing each other in order to do the front of your hair neatly. she spoke slowly so as to remain concentrated on your hair. "you still... can't... say that now, can you... hm, y/ n?"

you shrugged, and then immediately apologised when you realised you had moved.

"he deserves it."

“i'm sure... he does." said mom, smiling ever so slightly. "he's... megumi-what?"

she used a small toothbrush to clean out the sides of your forehead.

"megumi fushigo."

your mother paused, leaning back and staring at you in surprise. the toothbrush was still firm in her grip, but it was no longer pressed against your hair due to her arms deflating. she raised her eyebrows at you, mouth parted in what looked like to you as realisation.

"you mean fushiguro?" she said, taking you by surprise too.

"yeah, i said that," you responded easily. "how do you know him?"

"oh no, i don't know him,” she told you honestly, lifting the toothbrush and getting back to work with the gel again. “but i know the fushiguros. they live across from us, y/n.”

you looked up at your mom, mouth agape.

"he's our neighbour?"

"they have been... for... some time... yes," she answered, nodding slightly.

it seemed as though the universe was on your side: this meant that you could sabotage him if you really wanted to, too. who was to stop you from shouting out his door number in class? what if you met his parents and made a formal complaint about him? surely even a five year old could have some influence over matters such as a small rivalry?

"can i egg his door?"

“y/n."

"sorry."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

"y/n, you know the boogeyman guy?" said amira khalil, timid after she'd explained how she had to work up the courage to approach you.

you nodded.

"yeah, my mommy and i feed him every night," you said calmly, head down as you coloured in the big monster you'd drawn. "i think i already told you about him."

"you did,” said amira, confirming your thoughts. she was twiddling her thumbs, looking nervous. “i searched up him online with my older sister... i saw a video."

you looked up at her, patiently waiting for her to complete her sentence. she must have approached you for more than just some small information on what she'd got up to with her sister the other night. you guessed that maybe it had something to do with your knowledge.

"how do i protect myself from the boogeyman?" she finally asked, picking at her nails.

you shrugged.

“if my mommy and me forget to feed him, then he might come out."

amira's hesitant smile had dropped completely, brows raised and lip wobbling.

"but it's okay! we always remember to feed him," you reassured her. “but sometimes i can forget when someone distracts me — like if you — if you keeping on using the colouring pens when i need them — sometimes — sometimes it stays on my mind so i forget to feed him in the night.”

the poor girl did not look reassured in the slightest.

"but... but what if you get distracted over somefing else and then — then you f-forget to feed him?"

"that won't happen because he's not even real," said megumi, who had somehow appeared behind you despite this classroom not being his.

amira's cheeks flushed a warm colour.

“he’s not?"

you slammed your hand against the table and stood up.

“this is distracting me" you snapped, to which amira's eyes had widened and she realised what that meant.

"don't worry! i'll try and get my mom to remind your mom to feed him tonight."

and thankfully, before megumi could interrupt her straight-forward thoughts even further, she ran away, heading for the toilets.

you sighed irritably. this interaction had completely altered the rest of your day. instead of sitting in front of the tv for the rest of the evening, now you had a change of plans: sit by the home telephone and impersonate your own mother to make sure the news never got to your mom.

"why are you even here? this isn't your class, imposter!"

"i had to give something to miss huckleberry."

"go away, fushigo."

“it's — never mind."

———

"y/n, are you meant to be here?" miss turner had asked you, but only after you had entered the doors of the other class.

you noticed the most biggest difference between your classroom and the other classroom: the teacher’s desk was not on the left side, it was on the right. furthermore, there were only four group tables, not five, leaving more carpet space. instead of two toy boxes, there were three, filled to the brim with toys like lego, dolls and trucks.

you preferred your own classroom, especially when this one's bookshelf lacked any personality (where were the pretty fairy lights?).

"yeah, i am," you answered with a smile. "i — um — i had — i had to — i had to give something to you from miss huckleberry."

"oh?" said miss turner, and you had seen her big, brows eyes scan your empty hands. on instinct, you put them behind your back and smiled. "so... what is it? where is it?"

"um —”

and then you heard that dawdling voice again.

"it's not even real.”

you desperately wanted to turn around and elbow him in the face. you were the same height, it would have definitely worked too, but though you were impulsive, you were not reckless — in the direct presence of a teacher, his teacher too, you knew better.

miss turner's eyes had darted from you to megumi, curiosity lacing her soft features.

"what do you mean by that, megumi?"

"she's lying, miss."

one day, you vowed, as miss turner walked you back to your class by your hand, you will find a way to annoy him just as much as he annoys you.

———

the playground seemed even bigger now that everyone had been occupied by the new toys brought to fill the toy boxes inside. at first, you felt excited about it: new toys meant new entertainment. however, after seeing what the toys were, it had not taken you too long to lose interest.

still, there were a fair few of you outside, playing tag and running around till your breaths ran out.

you were on the twin swings with gabriela robinson (short name: gabi). it would have been enjoyable if that teacher assistant wasn't practically breathing down your neck, making sure everyone was behaving. why couldn't she have watched from the top of the slide? it created a wider field of vision anyway, why was she choosing to stand behind you?

“look, it’s megumi on the bike!” gabi had pointed out.

indeed, she was correct: it really was megumi on a bike, simply riding around with it in circles.

boring, you thought in your head.

"you know, megumi has a girl name, how funny is that?" you gossiped in hushed tones, chuckling and giggling at the thought just as megumi had passed you with the bike.

you almost choked on your own giggles when megumi slid to a stop right in front of you. he did not look pleased.

"y/n, that's not very nice," that annoying voice of the teacher assistant had cut in.

your smile fell, serious-looking as you turned your head to look back at her and say, “i wasn't talking to you."

the woman's face had turned angry.

"go to the naughty corner!"

you did not put up a fight. you got off the swings, glared at megumi (he was still looking at you without any visible emotion) and then walked yourself back inside.

you made another vow to yourself: that stupid teacher assistant would be your enemy from that day onwards.

———

"i saw your dad yesterday," you said to megumi, approaching him on the playground by the sand pit.

neither of you were in the sand pit. in fact, megumi looked disgusted at the mere sight of it. he was such a picky person in your mind — had he spent most of recess simply judging the sand pit?

he seriously needed help.

"why is he so fat?" you asked bluntly.

if your statement earlier hadn't caught his attention, what you just commented did. oddly enough, he did not look as offended as you had expected him to be. he simply looked... baffled, as though the way his dad looked was self-explanatory (which, it was, he was fat in your eyes, so why did he look at you like what you had just asked was all sorts of wrong?).

"he's not fat,” he said, just as bluntly. he stared back at you as though it were obvious.

"yes he is," you shot back, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "i saw him. and i saw him taking you to school so that — that means he's fat in the morning and fat at night too!"

he exhaled through his mouth, looking away and grumbling something about how he thought his mom was lying about you living near. you ignored that, still demanding answers.

"so why is he fat?"

“he’s not,” said megumi, emphasising the final word. “it’s his muscles.”

"does he eat too much?" you questioned as if you hadn't heard him. "what do you guys always have for dinner? probably — probably — er — burgers and fries and soda and lots of ice cream right? but your dad maybe takes too much, is that why you're so skinny?"

megumi's gaze hardened, face stony as he clarified harshly, "it's called muscles.”

but then a thought had just occurred to you, one that had you absolutely startled and staring off into space, watching as alexa clement hopped off the swings and left it moving back and forth with momentum. what if, you questioned to yourself, megumi ended up like his dad? what if he ended up learning how to be extremely fat?

you didn't hate megumi, of course. you never hated him, you just found him to be a thorn at your side. however, that did not mean that you would allow even a thorn at your side to grow as fat as his very father.

"megumi...”

and now you found yourself unwilling to imagine a very unhealthy and fat megumi, yet your brain just did not listen to you, the picture already set in your head. you slowly turned your head to look at him, eyes wide with worry.

"what.”

"oh my gosh... what if you end up like that?"

he looked as deadpanned as ever.

“i won’t.”

"megumi it's — it's gonna be fine because — because my mommy learned me how to make a lunchbox," you explained seriously. "i’ll help you make a healfy one so you — like — you don't look like your dad and become fat.”

"leave me alone," he said, annoyed.

he kicked and stomped at the floor, the sand left over flying up and entering your mouth. you coughed and spat at the floor, shouting at megumi, but you had heard the sound of his footsteps distancing themselves from you, a little too fast to be considered a walk. he had run away from you after leaving you to practically die at the taste of sand.

“MIIIIIIISS!”

———

the middle of october meant that there would be a parent-teacher conference. although it seemed too early (the other kindergarten schools do it much later on in the year) the one week holiday was nearing and it meant that a formal report had to be given to your parents about your behaviour, attitude to learning, relationships with other students, etc.

a lot of the parents had lined up by the double doors, the wall separating the two classrooms had been pushed away somehow (you had sat staring at it for a while) and the classrooms were now merged to be one big ‘boss' classroom (as you would say).

with the rest of you students having nothing to do but wait for your parents to finish their individual meetings with your teachers, you all huddled together and made conversation. you learnt the names of the students from the other class, interacted with them, and asked which of the adults were their parents.

your mother seemed to be running late, so you couldn't answer that question.

but someone (david yeboah) had asked megumi (who was standing across from you) who his dad was.

after megumi's stunt the other day, you felt the need to get back at him, embarrass him if you will. anyway, it wasn't your fault that his dad didn't have a healthy diet.

“guys,” you said loudly, as though you were making an important announcement — you were. "megumi's dad is a fatty!"

all of the kids stared at you in awe, some had even whispered ‘really?'. you nodded, ignoring the hard stare megumi was directing at you.

"yeah," you said in a hushed tone, quiet, but loud enough for all of the kids to hear you. “i saw him, he's really big, it's true! megumi's dad is a fatty —"

you turned around, nearly bumping head first into... megumi's dad's legs. you looked up, heart pounding from the vision above you.

if you thought he was big from a distance, then god knows what you thought now. his chest took up your entire sight, he was large enough to crush you with his fat hands if he so pleased.

the smirk that you had seen him wear before in the early mornings by his house had faded now. though, to your pleasure, he did not look angry at all. sure, his dark brows were knitting together as he looked down at you, and sure, his eyes were squinted. but he looked more confused than he did angry.

still, the realisation that he had heard you call him a 'fatty' made your heart race. not to mention, he looked terrifying from down there.

without a word, you simply turned the other way and speed-walked to the toy box, distancing yourself from him.

"woah…” you muttered to yourself, pressing a hand to your chest and feeling your heart beat hardly against it. “scary.”

———

you were sat by the book corner, a few other people occupying the bean bags with you. the school had bought a ton of new books for you to read, so lately, you'd been spending most of your time by the bookshelves and less and less of your time terrorising the other kids (and that teacher assistant).

you believed that the new books had been the best investment the school had made. however, it was bothersome when the other kids would beg you for story times again when you were clearly occupied.

besides that, it was blissful being able to find new entertainment in such a boring place.

at the moment, you had been showing your classmates the fiction book you had in your hands, a book that miss huckleberry stated had been shipped straight from the uk (someone failed in doing a good british accent too and it made you cringe).

it was about this girl (she had a silly name, you thought) called goldilocks and her adventure with the house belonging to three talking bears.

"no, david, that's not how the story went," you said wisely. “the baby bear went back in the room and saw goldilocks ru— ru— ruining everyfing.”

"that's not even real.”

you looked up: megumi was standing by the entrance of the book fort you had made for the book corner. he looked serious (when did he not?) and he was staring at the book held up in your small hands. in his own arms was a larger book, thin enough to imply that there wasn't much story to it, but unlike the other books, the book he possessed had real life images as its cover.

"it's goldilocks and the three bears," you informed him, eyes narrowed.

"yeah... and it's not even real."

"it's a book!"

he held up his own one.

"this is a book too."

"yeah, so that's not real either!"

"it is,” he said, with a tone of finality.

you were not having it:

"how come your book is real and mine isn't?"

"mine is non-fiction," said megumi, and you felt glee in your chest when he nearly stuttered over the word 'non-fiction’. megumi had never stuttered before, but he was also not super human either. he was the same as the rest of you. "yours is fiction. fiction means fake —"

"MIIIIIIISS! MEGUMI’S LYING!"

"y/n i am sitting right near you, you do not have to yell.”

———

though the academic year had not even been close to ending, the kindergarten had made a boring, old tuesday an open-day for future students to attend. current students were still required to go to school like usual, only, towards home-time, the kindergarten would be open till eight o’clock in the evening.

the year before, you had not stayed that late, seemingly bored with the idea. this year, however, your mother had to work late and could not pick you up. conveniently (for her, not you), the open-day fell right on her work overtime-day. she did not have to call for one of your aunts to come look after you (a hassle for her, really, because although her family loved you, they believed that you were a devil-child, hence the difficulty in trying to get them to come over).

several other kids had stayed back too, but only out of their own will.

apart from one particular child — megumi fushiguro.

he did not look happy at the prospect of staying for longer than when the clock hit three o’clock (home-time). you shared his displeasure silently, though there really was no need for him to be there, you noted, for you had seen his father accompany other parents by the coffee stand.

had he been forced there too? megumi’s fat dad looks annoyed, you thought to yourself.

you did not dwell too much on the thought, for you and the remaining kids had decided to play hide-and-seek. some of the new kids — accompanied by their parents — had joined in too. you did not mind, the more the merrier, especially when your actual classmates had refused to allow you not to be seeker.

you shrugged, uncaring of which role you played in the game.

so, eyes shut, you counted from one to twenty:

“one… two… three…” you counted, already bored. you continued. “…ten… eleven… twelve-thirteen-fourteen-fifteen —”

“hey no fair that’s cheating!” some whiny voice you didn’t recognise had spoken.

you scowled, turning around to see who it was: no surprise, it had been some random kid, not one of your classmates who knew better than to doubt you.

“found you, you’re out.”

the ginger kid looked scandalised.

“but —”

“sixteen… seventeen… eighteen…”

he ran off crying somewhere.

“nineteen-twenty!” you shouted quickly, jumping up and uncovering your eyes excitedly. “ready or not, here i come!”

you skipped along the classroom, picking out several dumb kids who had hidden in places that were very obvious to you. another one of those random new kids had stayed in the centre of the carpet (which was out in the open), crouched with his eyes shut.

you stared at him, deadpanned.

“i found you.”

and he had the audacity to ask “how?”.

dumb kid, you thought, as you walked out to the playground and saw some kids hiding behind the slide. in order to get there, you had to pass the coffee stand.

the sight of the teacher assistant looking bored and annoyed pleased you: a smile radiated your face which had previously been decorated with scowls and frowns.

you skipped past megumi’s dad along the way.

“hey fat-man we’re just playing hide-and-seek!” you informed him happily.

you did not wait for his response as you continued to run away, a jump in your step as you slowly got closer and closer to the slide; you had passed a stoic megumi, who simply stood there as you casually insulted his father. you could have sworn that you heard the insulted man audibly grunt, muttering something that sounded like ‘who is that child?’.

you did not have the time to entertain his questions: those kids were getting away.

———

mondays were the worst days in your opinion: it was the start of the week, meaning that you still had four more days to go before the weekend would arrive. the weekend was also only two days long, one day which you would spend stressing about monday being the day after that. it was unnecessary stress for a five year old.

mondays were also the days where that annoying teacher assistant would stay in your class more than the other class. you didn’t want her there, so why was she always present? it irked you, she held no purpose, really.

it had been nearing lunch time as you sat on the grass on the playground with two other girls: kimberly garnett and alexa clement. they had been telling you about how, apparently, a boy from the other class (alejandro henderson) had a crush on one of the girls from your class, though it was undiscovered who.

ultimately, it was a gossip session.

but the conversation of alejandro and his secret crush was starting to bore you. it was not long before the topic had changed.

“why is megumi alone all them times?” said kimberly, who had craned her head over her shoulder to look at the dark-haired boy — he was staring at some cat that had somehow ended up in the playground.

none of you had actually answered the question. none of you ever answered any questions, you simply spoke for the sake of it.

you leaned in, face gleaming with excitement as you put a hand over your mouth to whisper.

“megumi looks like a porcupine —”

“y/n!”

you stared up at the teacher assistant who somehow spawned in front of you. her eyes were fierce and demanding, staring at you with indignation. how had she heard you? you had been certain that you were whispering. did she somehow have super ears?

you did not say anything, choosing to remain silent. she raised a pointed brow at you, as though to say ‘explain yourself’, but you did not submit.

instead, with a sigh, you stood up, dusted your skirt off, and walked yourself back inside, claiming the time-out seat without having to be asked. and all the while, you felt eyes burn holes at the back of your head, knowing full well that they did not belong to the nosy teacher assistant.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

the autumn season had hit hard as the month of october had slowly come to an end. by the point it had turned into november, you were now attending school with mittens, scarves, and a big coat.

one particular morning, you had woken up feeling giddy: your hatred towards summer was unmatched. in your mind, the autumn and winter days were the best, no questions asked.

you had gotten out of bed with a smile (for the first time in a while) and attended kindergarten without any protests — your mother had been pleasantly surprised and there were no complaints.

even the sight of megumi did not evoke annoyance out of you.

the kids had stopped asking for the stories you would tell seeing as darkness would hit the skies earlier than what you had all been used to: it meant that there would be more time for fear of the evil entities you told them all about should they ask for the stories. it was convenient, for you could still practically control your peers through the threats of the previous stories whilst also not being annoyed by being asked for new ones. besides, halloween had only just passed too, and kenji lee had claimed that he’d seen someone dressed up as the bloody ginger-woman — you did not believe him because you made that woman up for one of your old stories. ‘she wasn’t even real,’ you had said to him, and then slapped a hand over your mouth when you realised just who you had begun to sound like.

one particular frosty day, you approached megumi on the playground and simply stood beside him, curious to see what he had been staring at for the past five minutes. he gave you an odd look, but did not question you for accompanying him.

until he did.

rudely, too, you had to add.

“why are you just standing there, megumi?”

“why is your hands so pale right now?”

“what are you staring at?”

“how does your hair stay like that?”

“why —”

“what do you even want?” he had snapped, turning his head ever so slightly so as to glare at you with his cold, dark eyes.

you laughed.

“you can’t — you can’t — you can’t answer a question with — with another question,” you told him, chuckling. “silly billy.”

“you just asked me ten hundred… million… billion questions,” he scowled, looking away from you to stare at something in the distance again.

“that’s not a number —”

“shut up.”

“i’ll tell miss.”

“miss never believes you.”

you shrugged. fair point, you had thought. he raised a good argument. it was odd, any time you told off of anyone, it always ended up backfiring. however, if it were anyone else telling off of you instead, you’d end up warming up the naughty chair for a future sitter (most likely you again) as per usual.

“so…” you began, bending your knees slightly to crouch a little and reach megumi’s downcast eyes. “you didn’t answer my question.”

“which one?”

“what are you staring at?” you repeated, standing up straight again and letting your fingers intertwine in the comfort of your unconnected pocket of your coat.

megumi hesitated before answering.

“i saw a fox when my dad dropped me off.”

you looked around, inspecting the bushes.

“well maybe you was seeing monsters,” you said wisely. “my mommy says —”

“your mom never said anything,” megumi cut in icily, “it’s always you.”

for some reason, you did not find it in you to be offended. maybe it was because he hadn’t been lying — it was true: your mother never actually said anything, you simply used her as a way to lie about untrue facts. it was good to use someone older as a guide, less people denied your statements because of them. adults simply couldn’t be wrong.

“ok,” you began, unsure of where to continue. “okay well my mommy says i have to play with lonely kids so i’m just gonna play with you, all right?”

megumi, with his hands shoved in his designer coat (he was rich? his father didn’t look rich), glared at you, looking mildly offended. what had you said wrong?

it seemed that you would never know, not when he hadn’t bothered to say.

“no,” he said instead, and his tone seemed final.

you grinned. “oh, was that a yes?”

“no— i said no.”

you ignored him, feeling fidgety as you perked up excitedly.

“okay ready steady tag you’re it!”

you tapped him on his arm, excitedly running away from him. you knew that he wouldn’t chase after you, so you opted to not run very far and then skip around him, running in circles as he remained in the centre. and as per usual, he wore his signature scowl.

“stop it you’re making me dizzy,” said megumi.

you didn’t stop. you continued to run around him in circles, urging him to play.

“don’t you know how to play tag?” you asked, teasingly. “you know everything except tag —”

“no,” said megumi, but you could tell his resolve was faltering.

“i’m gonna keep running around you megumi! it’s fun!”

megumi stood completely still as your excitement grew, the blood beneath your skin running with adrenaline as the beat of your heart increased. with you alternating between skips and runs, you were slowly growing out of breath; mixed with your laughter only made it harder to keep it all up.

until the circles had stopped — megumi’s eye twitched and the next thing you knew, the dark haired boy was charging at you.

you squealed, frightened as you tried jogging away, but with how much you had ran in circles previously, your speed was not your greatest. it felt like a dream, your feet hitting the ground slowly.

“no — megumi —” you shouted, scared as you looked back and saw him catching up. “i didn’t” — you gasped for air — “think” — you exhaled — “you would” — you let out a breath — “actually chase me!”

and you had learnt a new thing about megumi that day: as small as you both were, his little legs took him far. he was probably the most speediest kid you had seen in your five years of living, the lesson learnt extremely well when you felt a hand press against your shoulder, pushing you forwards as you stumbled and halted, nearly falling over as you gathered your breath.

you turned around, shoulders raising and falling, chest heaving as you stared at him. his hair was still as dishevelled as ever, but he looked more ruffled than he usually did, tiny breaths of air falling from his nose.

“got you,” he had mumbled under his breath, staring back at you fiercely.

you looked back at him, scrambling for excuses.

“actually you didn’t get me,” you told him, extending your arm to hold onto the red roundabout, the crisp autumn leaves decorating its floor. “see? i’m home. you can’t get me because i’m safe.”

you gestured to the connection between your touch and the roundabout.

megumi’s brows had furrowed, a crease forming between his dark brows on his pale skin. he did not seem to agree with you, but unlike the other kids, it seemed as though he would keep up an argument with you.

“you just made that up,” he said, sounding confident in his statement.

“no,” you denied, truthfully. “ask — ask — er —” you stammered, looking around for a potential helper.

david had been crossed off the list immediately — he was rather stupid. kenji had been crossed too — he would try and go against you out of fun. nia akello, a girl from the other class you and megumi were both familiar with, would be perfect. she was not biased and had also been a victim of the ‘home’ rule in tag you’d introduced some time before.

“ask nia!” you said brightly, and before megumi could say anything in an argument, you waved at nia and called for her. “nia! hey! over here!”

confused and shocked, nia akello ran over to where you and megumi had been standing, out of breath by the time she had reached the two of you (it had been a short distance, arguably).

“nia, isn’t it true that —”

“shut up you’ll cheat,” snapped megumi.

you hadn’t been silenced by him, necessarily, you had been silenced into shock. and offence. you were very offended by the way he had spoken to you publicly.

whether he’d seen your expression or not, he had made no indication, for megumi had not wasted a second before he rushed into speaking to nia.

“is ‘home’ real in tag?”

“yep!” said nia, beaming. “can i go now?”

“n—”

“yes you can, nia,” you smiled, shooing her away before megumi could corrupt her into believing that a ‘home’ in tag did not exist.

to be completely honest, it didn’t exist. you simply made that up when you got tired of running so much and needed a break. in your defence, it was good! it made the game more interesting after all, what’s not to like about it?

apparently quite a lot of things, for megumi did not look the tiniest bit impressed (not that you had expected him to be anyway).

“fine,” said megumi, taking you by surprise. you took your hand off the roundabout as you listened to him speak. “the swings is the new home.”

“what —”

“i’m gonna chase you now.”

megumi took a step back, sliding his feet against the concrete as an act of intimidation — it was working.

you scrambled to look for an out.

“but —”

“five… four…”

“megumi —”

“three…”

“that’s not fai—”

“two…”

“wait!”

“one-and-a-half…”

“UGH!” you sighed, jumping up and running away with as much speed as you could gather.

megumi was on your heels the second you had taken off, having reached zero on his countdown. you had realised (as you pushed past several people to get away from the evil child), that you had foolishly ran away without looking at where you were heading, now finding yourself further and further away from the swings.

you looked back, cautious, and immediately regretted it when megumi’s face appeared inches from your own.

you let out a yelp at the sight of his raised hand and swerved away.

“this is —” you gasped out, scrunching up your dress as you ran; you had very nearly been caught, “SCARY!”

your throat grew dry, panting for breath whilst you dodged megumi’s hand. you made the dumb decision of looking back again, letting out a squeak when you had realised just how close he was getting.

“I WANT MY MOMMY —”

it had seemed that your call for your mother had drawn the attention of miss turner, the teacher of the other class. previously, she had been looking over the sandpit and making sure your peers hadn’t been making a mess, but as you neared it, she’d looked up and caught you sprinting.

“y/n? what’s —”

“MIIIIIIIISS!” you cried, just as megumi’s palm had fallen flat against your back.

dramatically, you tumbled forwards, sliding against the concrete and lying against it despite your disgust with all the dirt.

you opened your eyes, met with the sight of megumi staring down at you, chest heaving as he let out little pants out of exhaustion. still, even in his tired state, he did not look the slightest bit pleased.

“i win.”

you sat up, groaning. “no you —”

megumi did not wait for you to say your piece before he left, saying something to miss turner and then entering the building again without looking back at you.

and all the while, you smiled at the thought that you had basically forced megumi to play with you.

but that had been before you’d taken a look at the state you were in, and then inwardly cursed at yourself for playing such a dangerous game with a kid who had little care for anything at all.

home-time that day had been amusing too. your mother had been running late (miss huckleberry had informed you earlier) so you spent the time sitting outside with members of the other class and getting to know them better — it was mainly due to the fact that the teacher assistant had once again been breathing down your neck, you simply had to get away from her.

your chats were being cut short as the parents began turning up, which made you rather bored.

up until the point where megumi had to leave.

megumi had been sitting in the corner, a little two meter distance between you and the rest of his class. you had no idea whether that was a normal thing or not, you didn’t bother questioning it, merely chatting along with the other girls.

but then you’d heard miss turner say something rather interesting.

“megumi,” she had said, calling out to him from beside you. “you can go, your dad’s here.”

when indeed, his dad was not there. you frowned, looking around for the fat man that you knew to be megumi’s father. there were only several mothers, young women with strollers and other dads already occupied by their own children.

but in the far distance, approaching you all slowly, had been a man with white hair, taller than anyone you had ever seen, and wearing round, opaque sunglasses despite the weather being very gloomy.

but that simply couldn’t be megumi’s father: you knew megumi’s father. you’s seen megumi’s father. you’d spoken to megumi’s father. and that man, wearing a smirk worth gold, was certainly not megumi’s father.

and it seemed that megumi had agreed.

“he’s not my dad,” he had grumbled, hiding the lower part of his face behind his designer coat.

“yes, yes, your godfather —”

“you have a godfather?” you spoke up, curious.

megumi glared at you, eyes narrowed.

“i didn’t know that!” you beamed, looking back at the white-haired man.

you hopped off of the long bench you had been sitting on, approaching megumi without taking your eyes off of the man.

odd, you had thought then. the man looked very different, his hair colour was unique, his style was very questionable too (mainly the sunglasses). his hairstyle made sense, you decided to yourself — it was nearly as messy as megumi’s, but not quite as dishevelled.

you leaned in, placing a hand over your mouth to whisper. megumi did not lean in.

“so is your dads gay?”

he stared at you, startled.

“huh?”

it had been the first time you’d seen megumi appear shocked.

“because — because you have two dads,” you clarified helpfully. megumi still appeared to be taken aback. “so is your dads ga—”

“no,” he answered. “they don’t even like each other —”

“so why do you have two dads?”

“i don’t.”

“oh! is he your grandpapa?” you asked, eyes brightening. the white hair would make sense, then.

“no,” said megumi harshly. “he’s not anything.”

“hm,” you thought, looking at the white-haired man speaking to some other teacher. “so is he alb— albin— alban— is he albanian?”

megumi blinked at you.

“what?”

“don’t make me say it again,” you said. “it’s a hard word.”

“albanian?”

“yeah… i think. is he that?”

megumi stared at you for a short while before looking away, staring at the man you had been gossiping about. it did not click to him for some time, it seemed, for he looked as though he were in a little daydream, thinking about what you had meant. you did not have the energy to repeat yourself: as you had claimed, it was indeed a hard word.

luckily for you, a lightbulb had clicked on in megumi’s brain, and he looked at you with a frown.

“he’s not albino,” he had stated firmly. “do you even know what a godfather is?”

“yes!” you said, defensively. was he seriously accusing you of not knowing what a godfather actually was? how pathetic.

yet that look he was giving you… he was expecting you to give him the definition.

if he wanted to be proved wrong so badly, why didn’t he just say so?

you stood up straight.

“it’s when god picks your dad —”

“no.”

“but my mommy says —”

“no she never.”

you scowled at him. “it’s not my fault your dad is old!”

“he’s not my —”

“megumi!” a cheery, deep voice had interrupted casually. you looked up, a shadow fell over the two of you: it was megumi’s apparent godfather, grinning toothily and quite literally showing off his pearly whites.

from up-close, he looked like more of a giant. he had to be at least eight feel tall, you had decided. maybe home-time was always done outdoors due to people like him — it would be difficult to move past a door frame with ease.

he didn’t have any wrinkles. in fact, his skin looked quite smooth, like the skin of a teenager.

but his hair…

“my son!” said the man, arms wide open as though he were about to engulf a grumpy megumi into a bone-crushing hug — you couldn’t imagine that.

you looked at megumi, who had all but disappeared behind his coat. you resisted the urge to laugh. was megumi embarrassed?

“oh — megumi — finally made a friend?”

the man looked down at you, grinning.

“we’re not friends,” you heard megumi utter, but you ignored him (as per usual).

instead, you directed your attention to the man.

“how old are you?”

you thought you’d heard megumi groan.

the man’s grin had fallen, but reappeared just as fast as it had dropped. he bent down to your height, his arm hanging over his bent knee as he came face-to-face with you.

“why don’t you guess?”

your answer was quick.

“eighty-seven.”

and this time, when his grin had fallen, it had not returned.

“why would you say that?” snapped megumi, who had reappeared from his hiding place behind his coat. he looked irked, irritated, and annoyed. whether it had been at you or his guardian, you had no clue.

“okay… seventy nine?”

“what the hell?” demanded the man. you were unsure at who he was looking at now — his sunglasses were more opaque than they had seemed from afar.

megumi had turned away, something about ‘now i have to deal with it’ — you weren’t quite sure. you frowned, looking back at the man. he looked scandalised, outraged, and disappointed.

your jaw had dropped.

“you just sweared!” you gasped, eyes accusatory. “my mommy says swearing is bad.”

“well your mommy should’ve taught you what an old person looks like,” the man responded, a bite in his tone.

“she did! they’re like you!”

“i am not old!”

“you really aren’t?” you asked, expecting it to do less damage than it actually would.

“i’m not even twenty-one yet!” the man pouted, looking nearly faint.

“really?” you said, eyeing him up and down. “you look like — you look like you’ve — you’ve seen the world. like santa. are you santa? —”

“megumi,” said the man, standing up to his full height and turning away, adjusting the glasses sitting on top of his nose. “we’re leaving.”

“finally.”

you watched them go, frowning when the tall man looked back at you over his shoulder and stuck his tongue out at you. you scowled: father christmas was supposed to be nice to kids. maybe you needed to write a letter to the north pole about a formal complaint on him.

“guys,” you said, turning to look at the remaining kids still waiting for their parents to arrive. “i met father christmas!”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

“i know what godfather means,” you stated proudly.

you and megumi were on the bikes. you had already been seated on one, megumi was starting to climb on the one next to you. he hadn’t looked at you once as he silently placed his feet on the pedals, brows furrowed in concentration as he gripped onto the handles.

“do you want to know what my mommy said?”

you stared at him with wide eyes, smiling despite the fact that nothing was actually amusing; you were still buzzing with excitement about the fact that megumi had a godfather. how sick was that? you’d never met someone with a godfather!

“no,” said megumi, checking the bell and seeing if it was able to ring well.

ding! ding!

“i’m gonna tell you anyways,” you informed him brightly. “my mommy s—”

ding!

you paused, beginning again after you the last ring of the bell had echoed.

“my mommy —”

ding!

“she says —”

ding! ding!

you frowned.

“my mommy says tha—”

ding! ding! ding!

you scowled.

“mommy-says-that-a-godfather —”

ding! ding! ding! ding!

your eyes narrowed as you placed your feet on the pedals and began cycling so that you were now face-to-face with megumi.

“you’re doing that on purpose!” you accused him, a crease formed in between your brows when you furrowed them.

megumi shrugged. “am i?”

“you can’t —” you began, stammering, “you can’t — you can’t answer a question by asking another one.” you shook your head at him. “you just can’t.”

megumi ignored you, taking off by pedalling away from you. you watched him leave, offended, before pedalling faster to catch up with him. several kids were in your way, using hula-hoops and skipping ropes that megumi had skilfully avoided. you, on the other hand, were in a rush to catch up to the boy, so you simply used your bell to alert them of your appearance.

ding! ding!

“‘scuse me! ‘scuse me! coming through!”

you were pretty sure someone fell somewhere behind you; you did not care.

it hadn’t taken long before you’d caught up to megumi. you cycled with him, nearly bumping your bike into his.

“you’re being mean, megumi.”

“ok.”

“anyways, my mommy says a godfather is a dad your parents chosed.”

megumi let out a noise, something between a grunt and a groan. “i don’t want to talk about him.”

“it’s okay! i kept your secret… kind of,” you said, as the both of you turned your bikes in the direction of the open space in the playground.

“secret?” said megumi, glancing at you from the corner of his eye without turning his head.

“mhm!” you nodded, smiling. “your godfather is santa —”

“no he’s no—”

you interrupted him by cheekily bumping your bike with his. his reaction had not been nearly the same as you had initially imagined: instead of being motivated, he nearly fell off his bike and glared at you once he’d regained his balance.

you cleared your throat, pedalling faster as you zoomed past him.

“race you!”

you hadn’t expected to actually hear a pair of wheels following after you. but you had slowly started to grow aware of the subtle surprises megumi could bring you.

later on that day, you hadn’t felt like going back to miss huckleberry’s class. when you had told megumi that your class were going to do a colouring task together, megumi had revealed that his class were going to do a painting task together. immediately you longed for the paints rather than the colouring pencils.

it wouldn’t be you if you never tried to do something about it; feeling adventurous, when the call had been given for all kids to go back to their respective classrooms, you had followed megumi back inside the door opposite yours.

he hadn’t noticed you then, perhaps that had been the reason why he’d given you an odd look when you took the empty seat beside him on the carpet.

“you’re not allowed here.”

“‘course i am!” you replied, smiling as you sat just like him — criss-cross-apple-sauce.

you smoothed out the creases on your dress as he gave you a blank look.

“you’ll get in trouble,” he informed you as though you’d been blissfully unaware (to him, it seemed like you were).

“if you keep saying stuff like that it means that you care if i — if i get in trouble so yeah.”

he gave you a look of disgust before he turned to face the board in front of the two of you, apparently careless.

“i don’t,” he said, with a tone of finality.

you shrugged, humming to yourself as you tightened the pigtails in your hair. you liked to think that he did care, even if it was quite obvious that he did not.

as the rest of the class had nearly finished filing in and taking their seats on the carpet, ms turner had sat on the chair by the teacher’s desk, looking around at you all. you watched as her big, round eyes had passed you naturally, before they’d darted back to you in surprise.

“y/n?” she voiced aloud.

megumi let out a scoff.

“told you,” he muttered, a hand over his mouth as he rested an elbow on his knee; you ignored him.

“yes miss?” you said, as though you were unaware of what was happening.

ms turner tilted her head at you, brows knitted together.

“why are you here?” she asked you, with genuine curiosity. there was no bite in her question either.

“i don’t want to draw and colour things because i think it’s boring,” you answered truthfully. “and i don’t like the ginger lady in my class so yeah. and i like painting and i like the thingy with the water paints.”

“does miss huckleberry know you’re here?”

you shook your head.

but perhaps that had been a mistake, for you had been walked back to your classroom once more (your protests fell on deaf ears).

however, that hadn't stopped you from constantly going back, returning once more to the seat beside megumi. 

the second time you had wrongly and happily entered his classroom, you made your way down to the carpet space, ready to occupy the usually-vacant seat next to megumi, only to find that the seat had been used by megumi's knee. he'd still been sitting criss-cross-apple-sauce, of course, yet his right knee had been extended to the point where a little more than half the space had been taken.

he looked up at you once he had noticed your shadow fall over his lap. he moved his knee back in place, a blank look on his face as he did so.

"did you just put your foot on that seat?" you asked, a brow raised in disgust.

"... ye—"

"well now i can't sit there because i don't know where your foot has been and it might be dirty," you said, walking around him to sit on the vacant seat on his left instead.

his eyes followed you as you moved. you could not gauge out the expression on his face: megumi was simply too hard to read, and it bothered you a bit, but not enough to make you complain too much.

it had taken a total of twenty minutes and fifty-one seconds before you'd been spotted and then escorted out of the classroom that day.

on another random day, a similar scenario had occurred where you'd been dropped off at your actual classroom by your mother, but you swerved past the door to enter the one opposite. your mother had not questioned it, deciding that during school hours, you were not her responsibility (thank god).

when you walked over to the carpet-space, you'd seen that megumi had already arrived, only, his hand was now facing palm-down on your favourite seat. you approached him as you passed a disheartened girl (inaya farhat) who'd just had a short conversation with megumi.

he looked up at you, slowly removing his hand and placing it back on his lap.

"did you just put your hand on my seat?" you asked, disgusted once again.

he glared at you. 

"yes."

the way in which he was glaring at you had you concerned (just the slightest bit). the intensity behind the way in which he looked at you had also frightened you, he looked as though you had insulted his entire family (arguably, you were nearly there).

"erm — yeah, so i hope your hand's not dirty," you said, leisurely sitting down on your designated seat. "like — like picking your nose or scratching your bum —"

"i'm not veera," said megumi. 

you frowned.

"who's veera?"

megumi faced the board, answering without sparing you another glance. 

"if you stay in this class, you'll find out."

and you did.

you had remained in the class for days after that. it became so normalised for you to be there, that even your mother would drop you off at the opposite door of your original class without question: at some point that month, your full name had been transferred from register-to-register — megumi hadn't been bothered by that, but he became quite aggressive when you kept rubbing it in his face:

"remember when you said i wasn't allowed to —"

"i get it!"

on one particular afternoon, where parents and carers were allowed to enter the classroom and observe the work their kids had done in their respective books before collecting them, you had found yourself in a sticky situation.

after megumi's father had come in (and quite literally stood at the back and simply nodded his head at his son in acknowledgment), you and megumi had gotten into a heated debate about which types of books were better. where you were more interested in fiction and fake reality, megumi argued that non-fiction and actuality was better.

you strongly disagreed, so you attempted to prove your point by leading him to the book corner and pulling out some of your personal favourites, one of them being 'the hungry caterpillar'.

"i like this one," you told him, handing the book over to him. he looked skeptical as he flipped through the pages. "and you can't say it's not even real because it is."

"hmph," said megumi, looking grumpy.

he didn't look as displeased with your suggestions as he usually did, so you decided that you'd won him over.

"what else?" he asked.

you beamed, hurriedly bending down to where you'd hidden your most precious book. your little hand plunged itself underneath the shelf and searched for it with earnest, pulling it out once you'd felt its laminated cover beneath your skin.

"this one," you said, standing back up and presenting it to him. again, he looked skeptical, but you had won him over once, surely you could do it a second time? "noisy nora."

he took the book from your hands and, like before, skimmed through it. his face scrunched up in disgust.

"that one is my most bestest book in the whole wide wor—"

"rats can't speak."

you looked up; megumi was stoic.

your smile had turned to a scowl.

"well jokes on you, nora's not a rat. she's a mouse."

megumi ignored you, going over to his side of the book corner where the non-fiction books were kept and pulled out a large one, pages thin and smooth. he turned around and showed it to you as you bent back down and shoved 'noisy nora' back under the book shelf.

from where you were sat on your knees, you could see that the title of megumi's book read 'how a caterpillar turns into a butterfly'.

you stood back up again, analysing the cover.

"looks boring," you commented.

"it's real."

"'the hungry caterpillar' tells a real story."

you walked away from the book corner and megumi followed, still looking very unimpressed with your opinion on his most favourite book.

however, as you aimed to make your way to the toy box, you stopped just as you'd entered the carpet space at the sound of a baby. your face formed an expression of confusion. what was a baby doing here at the kindergarten?

you turned in the direction of where the sound was coming from. megumi had been quietly complaining about something, but his discontent had fallen on deaf ears, for your eyes were focused on the blonde, snotty child wobbling towards you, her blue eyes wide with excitement.

spit bubbled at the corner of her mouth, the same mouth that was slowly taking in all the snot running down her nose.

your eyes widened, horrified at the sight before you. the sight that was slowly reaching you.

"ew," you said, watching as the child wobbled and clapped her hands — one hand gripped onto a baby-blue pacifier.

"ew..." you repeated, when the same child had dropped her pacifier on the floor.

"EW!" you cried, when the child locked eye contact with you and waddled closer.

"veeraaa!" the child sang, voice high as she nearly toppled over with her uneven balance. some of her spit had dropped onto the floor, gooey and... was that a tint of green?

"EWWWW!" you cried, making an attempt to run away but realising that megumi was behind you, resistant to your constant pushing. "OH MY GOD — OH MY GOD —"

your cries had caught the attention of nearly everyone else in the room, wondering what had been causing such a ruckus.

you felt like crying when the disgusting baby still managed to walk.

"veeeraaaaa —"

"EEEEEWWWWWWW!" you shouted, struggling to push megumi away so you could run.

the blonde kid was nearly a whole metre away from you now, giggling and singing her own name.

you'd had enough — a metre was simply too close for you.

"hey — what're you —"

yelling out your disgust, your hands grabbed onto megumi and pulled him in front of you, pushing him towards the child and practically using him as a human shield. better him than you, you'd concluded.

"veeeeraaaa!"

"AAAHH — EWWWW!"

"veeeraaa —"

"what the hell?" snapped megumi, taking several steps back in an attempt to distance himself from veera.

slowly, the disgust that you held had somehow divided so that the rest of the kids held the same sentiment. all of your classmates had begun screaming: 'ew's could be heard all around you: kids made attempts to jump over tables and chairs to get away from the blonde baby, parents were used as hiding objects so their children could stand behind them, and the blonde baby turned her attention elsewhere, approaching ruth smith who burst into tears when she waddled over to him.

the baby looked at you and megumi again. amongst all the screaming and yelling, yours still managed to be the loudest.

"EEEWW!" you cried, pushing megumi forward again. he was resistant. "MEGUMI —"

"veeeeraaa," veera sang, as sofia rylee shouted at you to run. "veeeraaa —"

"my name's megumi," said megumi, sounding annoyed and offended.

the commotion had slowly started to end when another blonde woman (who you assumed was veera's mother) ran over and picked her up, holding her in her arms as she stared at you, looking very, very offended.

you didn't care. that child of hers was disgusting, this should be a lesson to her, you had decided.

and somehow you were left out of breath, panting and exhaling as the woman turned and left, followed by miss huckleberry who had appeared out of thin air.

"that was scary," you commented, a hand pressed against your chest dramatically. "so scary."

megumi had finally turned around and regarded you with a glare.

"oh yeah?" he challenged, angry. "did you get pushed to her?"

your hand been returned back to your side.

"i had to save myself!" you explained, unable to understand megumi's anger towards you. "you would do the same!"

"no i wouldn't," said megumi. "you had more than enough room to run."

his arm had been extended to present to you the space that you neglected.

before you could respond, miss huckleberry's voice had cut through the air sharply.

"mr fushiguro!" she'd said, and both you and megumi had looked up to see what had happened.

megumi's dad was leaning against the wall, which may have looked rather innocent... till you'd squinted your eyes and caught him smiling. when miss huckleberry had appeared from chasing after the woman that had left, affronted, you had no idea, but she was here, and condemning megumi's father for his silent actions.

megumi's father simply shrugged, and megumi himself walked away, apparently embarrassed.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

you and megumi found yourself seated at your specific spaces on the carpet, arguing about a situation that had occurred merely a day prior. ever since the veera incident, everyone in your new class seemed to know your name (and just how you were like). the news had also somehow travelled to your original class, and during play time, kimberly had asked what had happened: you brushed it off, claiming that any allegations against you were untrue.

that same day, you'd even waltzed back into your old classroom saying that you no longer wanted to be part of the other class, your disgust with veera taking over any other conscious part of your mind. miss huckleberry hadn't been impressed:

"no, y/n," she'd said, sounding firm. "go back to your class."

"that's not my class anymore," you'd attempted to persuade her. you looked at megumi, who had been giving you an odd look from the door. you approached him and pulled his arm. "c'mon megumi, let's go together!"

he had not complied.

that led you to the discussion you'd been having with megumi now, both stubborn in your points.

"you never got in trouble," you told megumi, scoffing when he'd told you about how miss huckleberry had given him an earful (though apparently, she'd been a lot more gentle about it than she had with you).

"i did," said megumi, defiant. he looked away, a hand resting over his mouth to muffle his final comment. "my stupid dad didn't help either."

"what was that?"

"nothing."

"oh okay."

it hadn't taken long for the rest of the class to follow, the carpet space now being taken up by the bottoms of each and every individual that had attended the kindergarten that day.

usually the class would start by singing a nursery rhyme together (megumi would turn extra grumpy during those) but on that particular day, miss turner had decided to do something different. you had noticed how smiley she'd been that morning, but had never questioned it: she looked rather pretty when she smiled. 

"so instead of our usual nursery rhymes..." she began, creating suspense, "we're going to do something a little more special today!"

you all looked at each other, confused and excited. you felt giddy in your seat, your legs shaking in anticipation. when you'd looked at megumi, you could see the interest in his face even if he tried his best to hide it.

"so all of you are going to partner up with somebody, it can be anyone you like," said miss turner, arms spread out to represent you all, "and together, you'll make a story! it can be about anything you want, anything in the big wide world. does everyone understand?"

everyone nodded excitedly, several 'yes's could be heard as everyone had stood up, looking around for partners. you'd seen cameron peterski and kamenova petrova hold hands and skip away. you walked into the huddle of peers, spinning on the spot in an attempt to make eye contact with one of the girls.

zuri camara had come into view, and you had half a mind to ask her to be partners with you, only, you'd been reminded of the time when she had worn your costume (it was the school's property, but everyone knew that dress was practically owned by you).

so you turned away, back towards her as you approached your seat once more. megumi had been standing by it, looking at you and promptly ignoring denis ivanov, who'd been attempting to catch his attention. you grinned, skipping forward and pulling megumi by the arm.

"megumi you're my partner because i said so!"

he did not respond, but you found that pulling him to the table on the far right had been much easier than you'd expected. 

"okay so i want to make a story about a princess —"

"no."

you frowned at him, pulling the a4 sheet of paper towards you. megumi had the pencil in his hand, still out of reach. 

"what do you want to write about, dinosaurs then?" you mocked him, rolling your eyes. "oh — oh i forgot — you'll probably say it's not even real right?"

megumi, with his fingers still protecting the pencil from your clutches, stared at you, deadpanned.

"they were real," he said, matter-of-factly. "they were alive sixty five million, billion... trillion years ago."

you scoffed, unsure of whether to believe him or not. you decided not to question him, with his history of constantly being right, you knew better than to make a fool of yourself again.

"i want to make a story about a caterpillar turning into a butterfly."

"that is the most boring-est, boring story ever," you stated, unimpressed. "in the whole wide world."

megumi scowled at you. you continued.

"and everyone's gonna fall asleep like this, look." 

you demonstrated the snoring of what you imagined your peers would do at the sound of megumi's story, your forehead falling flat on the table and your pretend snores being very loud. you raised your head once more, noticing how megumi hadn't been looking. persistent, you grabbed onto his face and turned it to face you.

"you're not looking, look!"

you imitated it again, ignoring the way he'd slapped your hand off his face. your pretend snores had grown louder and megumi did not look pleased.

"you sound like a pig," he said, coldly.

"well — well you are just a rude-o."

"not a word."

"but my mommy says —"

however you had been cut off by megumi's stern look, one that practically screamed 'don't try it'.

"fine," you said, sighing. "let's play scissors-paper-rock."

"you mean rock-paper-scissors?"

you made a motion of almost choking the dark-haired boy, but stopped yourself despite your frustrations. and all the while, megumi had not once flinched. instead, he'd given you a look of annoyance. 

rock-paper-scissors had not gone well with you. you'd played three rounds, and after losing two out of the three, you'd begged to play another round, upset with your chances of losing. megumi had refused, but surprisingly, had agreed to meet you half-way, offering a compromise. 

"it's still about caterpillars and butterflies," said megumi, firmly, "but you can..." he sighed, looking as though it were physically hurting him to speak. "you can... make it less... real."

you beamed, clapping your hands excitedly and then making an attempt to grab the pencil from him once more. megumi immediately recoiled, pulling it away from you with a sharp gaze.

"but not too much," he said.

shortly after, you and megumi had started writing out your story. however, it hadn't gone as easy as you had initially expected: the road to completing the plot of your story was long and bumpy, you had been met with several obstacles along the way.

"moths can't be friends with butterflies," megumi said after you'd explained the introduction of a new character (the moth).

"you said i could make it how i want!" you argued, defensive. "well that just — that just — it means that you're just a liar then."

"says the biggest liar in this class —"

"MIIIIIIIISS!"

but that hadn't been the only issue:

"that's not how you spell 'caterpillar'," megumi commented, peering over your shoulder after he'd reluctantly handed the pencil over to you.

you looked down at your writing: cadrrpileer.

"that's not how you spell 'butterfly'."

again, you looked down at your writing: buddrflee.

"that's not how you spell moth."

once more, you looked down at your writing: moff.

irritated, you slammed the pencil down over the paper and slid the sheet over to megumi.

"well maybe you should write then!"

megumi made no complaints about taking the pencil.

"you were begging to write."

"yeah well — well — well i don't need a negative nancy next to me all them times i keep writing."

"that... made no sense."

"just write fushigo!"

"fushi-guro."

your assigned hour had been up, and when everyone had been seated on the carpet once more — rehearsing their lines in preparation to present — you and megumi read over the paper you had over and over again. really, you believed that you could recite the story without the paper, but megumi had been insistent on keeping the paper just in case.

he'd been very angry when you'd volunteered to go first together after miss turner had asked 'does anyone want to start us off?'.

so the two of you found yourself standing at the front of the class, clearing your throats in preparation. the classroom looked extremely big from where you'd been standing. having all eyes trained on you felt odd, but you were confident that your story would surprise them all.

"once upon a time, there was two caterpillars," you began, slowly.

"were," corrected megumi, shaking the sheet of paper. he'd turned to where miss turner was sitting at her desk. "miss she's not following the script."

miss turner’s brows had raised at megumi’s comment, visibly surprised. it was understandable, you concluded, for it was not as though the partners had been assigned — they were chosen. how had the two of you already fallen into a dark pit of issues?

"megumi, we can still continue with the story, it's fine," said miss turner, just as you'd stared at megumi with an affronted expression.

the rest of the class did not seem phased by the sudden intrusion, still patiently waiting for the story to continue seeing as it had barely even started yet.

"anyways… after one day, one of the caterpillars turned into a beautiful butterfly," you explained, your arms spread wide to suggest just how pretty you had imagined the butterfly to be.

"the other caterpillar is left behind —"

"yeah that caterpillar's slow for some reason," you interrupted, shrugging when megumi glared at you, waving the paper to remind you of the script.

you slapped the paper, holding back a laugh when megumi's glare had hardened (if possible).

he hastily took a step away from you as though you’d burned him and the paper in his hand. he cleared his throat; you could tell he was irritated.

"the caterpillar doesn't recognise the butterfly anymore," said megumi, sounding way too blunt for your liking.

there were gasps in the audience, and you watched as everyone's big eyes remained focused on you and megumi. you smiled toothily.

"but — like — later, the butterfly makes the caterpillar remember," you added, for once, following the script as megumi cautiously held the paper up for you to read from. "and they're still best friends. but then butterfly meets another butterfly, and they become best friends too!"

"the caterpillar feels left out and then meets the moth," said megumi, staring at the audience with a blank expression. "and they become friends even though that's not even real."

you turned to miss turner, feeling insulted that megumi had the audacity to snitch on you when he had basically done the same thing.

"miss, that wasn't in the script."

miss turner sighed, shaking her head at you with a smile. "guys."

"okay, okay!" you said. "megumi, say it."

"the caterpillar goes inside the cocoon," he said on your command, though he'd been resisting the urge to add 'the only real part'.

"afterwards, after a very, very, very, very, very long time," you said, attempting to create suspense, though you could feel megumi's eyes digging holes in your cheek to get you to hurry up, "the butterfly is not friends with the other butterfly anymore."

"the moth flies away and the caterpillar comes out but oh no it's not a caterpillar anymore," recited megumi, reading from the paper, monotoned. he looked up, making eye contact with the audience. "i didn't write that."

you snatched the paper from him, annoyed with his lack of effort in bringing emotion to the story.

"but oh no!" you read, enthusiasm in your voice as you expressed how disheartened the narrator should have been, "it's not a caterpillar anymore!"

"i just said that."

"porcupine!" you snapped. you handed him the paper again, smiling at the audience, unaware of the glare he was directing at you. "the caterpillar is now a butterfly, and the other butterfly doesn't re— re— rec—"

"recognise —"

"yeah that — the butterfly!" you finished off, grateful for megumi's intervention.

"and that's the end of the story," stated megumi.

you grinned. "the end!"

an awkward silence had followed after that. megumi had scrunched up the paper in his small fist, which had been the only noise in the room full of pin-drop silence. all of the kids had been staring at you, as if waiting for you to yell out 'just kidding!' and then continue the story, but it had become quite clear that that wouldn't happen, especially when the two of you glanced at miss turner to prove that you'd finished your lovely story.

"tha— that's the end?" asked miss turner, brown eyes darting from you to megumi and back again, expectantly.

you nodded.

"yep."

"yeah."

"but what happened to the butterflies?" someone had called out — it was noah fisher.

"nothing," you answered.

but it seemed that your classmates’ interest in your story had not been completely satisfied.

"did they not realise each other?" hayley bergmann called out, looking upset and curious.

"no," said megumi, straight-forward.

"why?" said christian de groot.

"because — because — that's just how it is," you shrugged.

"life is sad," commented megumi.

another silence had followed after that, till miss turner had finally come to the acceptance that your story truly had ended the way it did.

"okay, well... that's y/n and megumi's story, guys! round of applause!"

but the giant applause you'd been waiting for had not arrived. instead, the claps were slow, out of beat, and awkward, as if they were still in shock and denial about the ending of your story.

irked, your brows had furrowed deeply, your arms folded across your chest as you demanded them to "clap!".

and they did, at some point, and you'd stepped back again, standing side-by-side with megumi, a smile finally gracing your delicate features.

"look, porcupine! they're clapping for us!"

“it’s not like you barked at them to or anything,” grunted megumi, and as though he’d been slapped with knowledge, he glared at you. “and stop calling me that.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

your teachers did not believe you when you told them that you much preferred to stay indoors than go outside. you didn't understand how they'd come to that conclusion when even in the kindergarten, your time was always spent more by the bookshelf than outside in the playground. the only time that you’d actively seek to go outside for a change was when the bikes were free to use (though sometimes your impatience would force the other kids to simply give up and get off the bikes for you).

so when your mother had called you over at the sound of the doorbell (which you had promptly ignored for the sake of watching your favourite cartoons) you audibly groaned, but obediently switched the tv off and made your way over to the front door.

surprised, perplexed, yet pleased, you’d been met with the sight of megumi standing by the door across from your mother, a soccer ball in his hands and sporting the same stoic expression as per usual.

your mother looked very confused, almost as though megumi was not real — as though someone had been playing a sick trick on her. someone really wants to play with that kid? she’d thought in her head when megumi had asked if you were free to play in the neighbourhood.

you skipped past your mom, tightening the ribbon in your hair and smiling. you looked up at her, ready to inform her of the fact that you would stay in the area and not run off (even if you had the carnal desire to give her a good scare).

“i’m just gonna play with megumi okay?” you told her, and though it’d been posed as a question, you knew it was a statement.

you’d ignored the odd look she’d given both you and megumi, her eyes darting from you to him and back again.

“megumi?” said mom, gazing at the dark-haired boy with curiosity. she could have sworn that he had been the very child you’d been annoyed with not even a month ago.

you sighed, irritated.

“i won’t run away like last time mommy.”

megumi gave you a pointed look. you narrowed your eyes at him.

“it was on — it was on accident.” you turned to your (still very confused) mother. “i’ll just play with megumi now so yeah.”

but she looked as though she had missed several pages on a very interesting book she’d been reading. megumi spoke up not too long after.

“my mom said she’ll watch us.”

and whether that had been to comfort your own mother (the woman still kept the same expression on her face) or to hurry things up, you never knew, for you’d grown very impatient and simply couldn’t wait any longer. you stepped outside and waved goodbye to your mom, who raised her hand in what she probably thought was a wave back, though it looked like anything but.

that day, megumi’s mother had walked you back to your home just before sunset, your sour mood now dissipated.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

bonus scene:

"a toast to the academic year of two-thousand-seven-to-eight being officially completed!"

clink!

clink!

clink!

the staff room meant for the kindergarten teachers had been packed. the teachers sat around a squared table, drinks in hand and food scattered around as though the queen were to arrive at any passing second. some teachers were standing up, others were sitting. all, however, had made a toast to the end of the academic year.

the main two teachers of both classes had sat together at the head of the stable: miss huckleberry and miss turner. every other teacher that had played the role as the assistant or substitute had been present too.

"can we talk about how this was probably the hardest year to manage?" said miss huckleberry, but only after taking a giant gulp of whatever sparkling drink she'd chosen to quench her thirst.

there were several murmurs of agreement. mr adams (who had been a consecutive substitute for miss huckleberry's class during september) had practically shouted out his agreement.

"you don't know how many times i had to deal with a child crying because they've got 'the booger touch'," miss huckleberry announced, sighing.

"what even is that?" one of the first aid nurses asked.

"i wish i knew."

a lot of the teachers laughed, speaking in hushed tones on their theories of what the 'booger touch' is and how it even started. the teacher assistant for miss huckleberry's class had spoken up during that time.

"wait, but, can i tell you what i found the most weirdest thing back in... i don't know... october-ish?"

she tucked a messy strand of her ginger hair behind her ears as the others looked up with mild interest.

"the oddest pair on this planet," she'd started, "megumi and y/n."

"no you mean y/n and megumi," laughed miss turner, who had finally voiced her own opinion seeing as the two kids had been in her class for the previous year; meanwhile there'd been a chorus of laughter and yells of agreement from all the other teachers.

"yep, for sure —"

"never thought i'd see them being friends —"

"two completely different people —"

"wait, wait! wait! was megumi the kid with that grumpy face twenty-four-seven?" asked mr jenkins, raising the hand that was holding his glass of champagne to emphasise his confusion.

the teachers nodded in response; he laughed boisterously.

"yeah i never saw that coming, that kid never wanted to play with anyone!"

miss turner smiled. "he was a little... anti-social."

"he was more than anti-social," interrupted miss huckleberry. "i had to deal with so many crying kids because of him."

"i don't know how he ended up being friends with y/n of all people," said ms begum, adjusting the green hijab on her head. she had been the substitute for miss turner's class whenever she'd been ill.

"right?" laughed mr adams.

miss huckleberry shook her head. "that kid was a menace."

"oh don't say that!" scolded miss turner, tapping miss huckleberry's arm firmly. "she was so bubbly and funny!"

"but it makes sense!" said the first aid nurse, picking up a chocolate cupcake and taking a small bite out of it.

several teachers disagreed, shaking their heads and voicing their thoughts.

"no, hear — hear me out!" she called out, struggling to speak with the cupcake. she swallowed and then continued. "y/n was always really loud and social and talkative and — you get the idea, but megumi wasn't. for lack of better word, y/n was a menace on her own but megumi wasn't exactly like that... and when they ended up being friends —"

"i see it now," hummed ms begum, pouring herself some of the apple juice. "does everyone remember the veera incident?"

she had barely completed the last syllable before the teachers had spoken over each other again, loud and excited. miss turner laughed, but miss huckleberry had rolled her eyes.

"do i remember? i had to deal with the mother!" she exclaimed, her drink now completely finished. she poured herself another full glass.

"before y/n got moved to your class," said the nurse, gesturing to miss turner, "any time veera came over, the kids were fine. megumi was fine."

"okay but let's be honest," said mr adams, slowly. "that veera child made me want to vomit —"

"william!"

"mr adams!"

"i can't deny it, i'm sorry! it is what it is!" mr adams spoke up over the teachers. "that child needed to learn hygiene first!”

although there were many shouts of protests, it could be heard how weak they'd sounded, almost as though the teachers wanted to disagree, but logically, they could not. picturing the child in question only made mr johnson actually gag.

"but who would you say is worse, y/n or megumi?" asked the teacher assistant. "y/n for sure."

"agreed."

"definitely y/n."

"but y/n's never actually made a kid cry —"

"yes she has!"

"but so has megumi."

"i think the point is," said mrs holly, placing a watermelon slice on her paper plate, "that they are definitely the oddest duo we've seen in teaching so far."

"i think they made the year so much more tiring," sighed miss huckleberry.

following her statement, there were sighs of agreement. some teachers had promptly disagreed, claiming that the duo had, in turn, made teaching a little more fun. miss turner had stated that you were a wonderful addition to her class. ever since you had joined, megumi was a little more spoken.

"but megumi," added mr johnson, pinching the bridge of his nose, "that child — is he even a child?"

mrs holly laughed at that.

"whatever do you mean?" she'd asked, biting back a smile despite her obvious curiosity.

"well we all know his favourite quote," chortled miss turner, actually heartily laughing when some of the teachers had quoted him simultaneously.

"'that's not even real'!"

they all burst into fits of chuckles and laughter, some teachers having lagged behind on the quote and finishing a little while after (mr adams had practically sang the quote).

mrs holly, still chuckling, referred back to her initial question.

"so what about that makes him unlike a regular child?"

"THE KID READS NON-FICTION BOOKS, come on!"

"and i can't remember a single time where we all sat together in a circle for story time and megumi didn't mutter 'that's not even real' — 'birds don't talk' — under his breath," said miss huckleberry, helping herself to some of the desserts placed on the silver platter. "menace."

"can confirm," nodded miss turner. "but i rarely ever had to actually scold him. y/n would do it for me."

"one thing about y/n," said ms begum, trying not to laugh mid-sentence, "was that she always kept megumi in check."

"no," said mr jenkins. "i'd argue that he kept her in check."

"nobody can keep y/n in check. not even her own mother," ms begum responded curtly.

"no, i think that was the issue," said mr adams thoughtfully. "they're both so different, they tried keeping each other in check. but then that always led to them fighting."

"fighting?"

"i thought they were friends?"

"again: odd duo."

mr adams shook his head. "they were weirdos. they'd argue for a second, and then be friends after."

miss turner nodded. "true. did i ever tell you guys about their book wars?"

"no —"

"no? —"

"i've seen it happen," said the first aid nurse. "they'd fight over their favourite books and then because they both have completely different tastes —"

"the only time i can say y/n acts like a normal child," miss huckleberry whispered, her voice hushed.

"— they'd end up actually fighting each other."

the teacher assistant rolled her eyes. "should we all take a guess on who hit who first?"

"y/n —"

"no question: y/n —"

"definitely y/n —"

"ally?" said mrs holly, asking for confirmation from your class teacher: miss turner nodded.

all the adults in the room sighed, laughed, and commented their thoughts: it was mainly not a surprise to either one of them that you chose to get physical first — you were rather 'passionate', as mr jenkins had put it.

"but you know, the surprising thing was," said miss turner, louder than the other voices in the room in order to grab everyone's undivided attention, "megumi seemed to always let her."

mr johnson frowned, walking around the staff room to get the cinnamon rolls on the farthest end of the table. "let her what?"

"hit him," answered miss turner, as each of their faces presented their shock:

miss huckleberry's brows had raised notably, ms begum had tilted her head with her brows furrowed in obvious uncertainty, and mr jenkins' face morphed into an expression that quite literally screamed 'not possible'. but it had not been them who had voiced their thoughts following the amazing revelation.

"i wholeheartedly believe you," said the nurse, nodding her head leisurely. at the sight of all the other unresponsive teachers (save for the murmuring between mr adams and mrs holly), the nurse had decided that an explanation was due. "back in january, you know james? the kid with the buzzcut?"

the other teachers nodded, some remained unacquainted with said boy yet waved their hands to have the nurse continue anyway.

"he hit megumi over something stupid — can't remember. but megumi didn't just let that slide: i had a sobbing james sitting in my office with a bruised up eye!"

"yes, i remember that," mumbled miss turner, a hand on her chin as she rested her elbow on the table; meanwhile the others were gasping and exchanging odd looks. "not my favourite megumi moment, to be fair."

"he could have done the same to y/n," shrugged the nurse. "i know he could."

"arguably, y/n is a scary girl," said mr john, lowly. "what — don't look at me like that — she terrified me sometimes! and i've seen the way she fought that other kid — what's his name —"

"clarke!" said miss huckleberry, "yes, it was clarke!"

"irrespective of who she's beaten up," tutted the nurse, rolling her grey eyes, "it's clear that megumi has always had the potential to do what he did to james, to her. he just never did."

"that's why i said she kept him in check," added ms begum, a finality in her tone as she gazed at mr jenkins with a raised brow.

"anyway, when y/n moved to your class, ally, i never bothered trying to get her back," said miss huckleberry, pushing her glass of whatever sparkling drink she'd chosen away from herself.

"i could tell," miss turner responded, smiling despite it all.

mr adams laughed. "i still don't know how she somehow managed to sneak back into your class and throw apple juice on —"

the very person you'd thrown apple juice on (and accused them of pissing themselves) had now looked up, alert and embarrassed. the teacher assistant who you had declared war on months prior now felt tears welling up in her eyes as she stood up, glaring at mr adams as everyone averted their gazes awkwardly.

"we all promised not to ever mention that again," she said, bottom lip wobbling as she walked around the table to get to the door despite all the teachers calling her back. she ignored them as she reached the door.

"oh, come on, poppy!"

"he didn't mean it like that —"

"yeah, come back!"

"why would you mention something like that?" she weeped, her face a dark shade of red that did much to conceal her dotted freckles. she opened the door, her body half-in and half-out. "why would you say that when you know it surrounds us all in negativity —"

but before mr adams could backtrack on his comment (and his laughter) the teacher assistant had already left the room.

they all sighed:

even after your departure, you had still managed to cause problems somehow.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

next chapter :)

notes: chapter 2 will take a little while to get out but i swear it will be released at some point!

© tojiscrack (previously ack4rwoman)

i do not own any of the characters of jjk, i only own the character of y/n and her mother. the other characters belong to gege akutami.

if you enjoyed my writing, i’d really appreciate it if you tipped me — tumblr no longer has the tip function, so maybe here in my tip jar :)

[libingan]

—escapism.

cw: cheating, age gaps, ooc simon because this was kind of rushed sorry babes, erm ig emotional neglect ??? idk how to tag warnings JSJDWJSJW

a/n: not my best work, but like, im having writer’s block rn so i just wrote the first thing that came to mind because i feel like i need to post something for yall HAAHAHAHAHA

as always, part two depends on how much this fic eats

you could feel the tension crackling in the air as you and your boyfriend faced off in your cramped living room. the argument had started small—another forgotten dinner, a dismissive comment—but it quickly escalated into a full-blown fight. his words were sharp, and his eyes, once warm, were cold and distant.

“you never fucking listen!” you yelled, your voice raw with frustration. “i’ve been trying to get you to notice me for months, but you’re always too busy with your own shit!”

he scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. “i’m tired of your whining. what do you want me to do, huh? i work hard and all you do is complain!”

“i want you to care!” you snapped back, feeling the sting of betrayal. “i want you to actually touch me, to know what i need, not just what you think you know!”

he threw his hands up in exasperation, his face hardening. “fine! if you’re so unhappy, maybe you should just leave!”

his words cut deeper than any physical blow could have. you felt a surge of anger and hurt. “maybe i fucking will!” you shouted, grabbing your coat and storming out, the door slamming behind you with a deafening bang. the sound echoed in the empty hallway as you rushed to your own place.

in the dimly lit sanctuary of your apartment, you stared at yourself in the mirror, your reflection a mixture of rage and sadness. determined to reclaim some control over your life, you pulled out your most daring outfit—something that made you feel powerful and fierce. the tight, low-cut dress hugged your curves, and the bold makeup accentuated your defiance.

you headed to a bar, a place where anonymity and distraction offered some solace. the bar was loud and crowded, but you walked in with a purposeful stride. you ordered a strong drink and let the warmth of the alcohol begin to soothe your frayed nerves. it wasn’t long before you felt the eyes of others on you, their gazes filled with various levels of interest.

that’s when you noticed him—the man staring right at you. he was seated alone at the far end of the bar, his rugged features partially obscured by a black surgical mask. despite the mask, there was something compelling about him. he seemed a lot older, but his presence was commanding and intriguing. his gaze was intense, even if you couldn’t see his expressions clearly.

you found yourself drawn to him, not just by his looks but by the way he seemed to command the space around him. you hesitated for a moment, then made your way over, the alcohol giving you just enough courage.

the man looked up from his drink as you approached, his gaze piercing yet inviting. “evening,” he greeted, his voice a gravelly whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. "rough night?"

you signal the bartender to bring you another shot before turning to the man, an exhausted expression plastered onto your face. "you have no idea."

the bartender arrived with your drink, setting it down in front of you. before he could leave, the man next to you gestured to him with a firm yet polite command. "put the lady's drink on my tab," he said, his voice carrying a hint of mystery. a slight smile played on his lips as he glanced at you, his eyes intense and unreadable. the bartender nodded and moved on, leaving you feeling a mix of surprise and curiosity about this intriguing stranger.

"simon riley," he introduced himself with a nod. you offered your name in return, extending your hand for a handshake. he gladly took it, lifting his mask just enough to expose his lips before planting a gentle kiss on the back of your hand.

"i have a boyfriend," you stated. simon chuckled in response, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "not a very good one if you're out here, no?"

you hesitated for a moment, but simon's easy confidence made it hard to stay reserved. as the conversation flowed, you found yourself laughing and sharing stories, your initial wariness melting away. there was an undeniable chemistry between you, a connection that felt natural and effortless.

simon had a way of making you feel seen and heard, his attention unwavering as he listened to you speak. he shared glimpses of his own life, his stories filled with adventure and depth. with each passing moment, you felt more alive, the weight of your earlier frustrations lifting.

you couldn't remember the last time you felt this way with your boyfriend. the spark, the excitement, the genuine interest—it had all been missing for so long. being with simon reminded you of what it felt like to be truly connected with someone, to feel that electric thrill of mutual attraction.

as the evening wore on and the alcohol worked its magic, you found yourself relaxing. after a few more drinks, the liquid courage made you more open. simon’s patient listening and calming presence encouraged you to open up.

as the night deepened and the bar's ambiance grew more intimate, you found yourself opening up to simon in a way you hadn't with anyone in a long time.

"my boyfriend... he's been so emotionally distant lately," you admitted, swirling your drink as you gathered your thoughts. "he's not as loving as he used to be. it's like he's more focused on his own world, and i'm just an afterthought."

simon listened intently, his eyes never leaving yours. "that sounds tough," he said softly. "you deserve to feel loved and appreciated."

you nodded, grateful for his understanding. "it's been hard. sometimes, it feels like i'm invisible to him. we haven't been intimate in what feels like forever. i almost feel like a virgin again because it's been so long since we last had sex."

simon raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity and concern in his gaze. "that must be really frustrating."

"it is," you sighed. "and the last time we did... he couldn't even find the clit. it was awkward and disappointing. it made me feel like he doesn't really care about my needs."

simon’s eyes remained locked on you, his presence steady and unyielding. “that sounds incredibly frustrating. it’s like he’s stopped making an effort to connect with you.”

“exactly!” you exclaimed, frustration spilling out. “it’s like he’s not even trying. i feel invisible, and he doesn’t even care. it’s like i’m just a roommate or something.”

simon’s voice was low and soothing. “you deserve more than that. it’s clear you’re looking for someone who actually cares and pays attention to what you need.”

simon leaned in closer, his presence radiating warmth and intensity. his hand, firm yet gentle, rested on your thigh, sending a shiver up your spine. “you know,” he said softly, his voice carrying a seductive edge, “i’d like to get to know you better. i can’t stand seeing you so unhappy.”

his fingers traced a light, deliberate path on your skin, the touch both comforting and thrilling. “why don’t you come home with me tonight? we can talk more, and I’d love to help you thryou hesitated, feeling a mix of curiosity and caution. “i don’t know, simon. you’re clearly older than me, and we’ve just met. it feels a bit... risky.”

simon’s gaze remained steady, his hand still gently resting on your thigh. “how old are you?” he asked, his voice calm and composed.

“i’m 27,” you replied.

“27,” simon repeated, his tone neutral. “you’re pushing thirty, not some freshly eighteen little girl. you’re a grown woman who can make her own decisions.” he paused briefly. “could show you a good time, love, make you feel things your little boy toy can't. i'm only 42, you know. is that too old for you?"

you thought to yourself that yes, it might be too old, but right now? with the hurt and desperation for someone who would actually treat you right? you found yourself saying, “no, it’s not too old. yes, I’d like that.”

that's how you ended up in simon's apartment bedroom, naked and lost in the throes of pleasure.

simon's got you on your back, legs hooked over his shoulders, his head buried in between your thighs, mouth working overtime against your dripping cunt. he keeps his gaze on you the entire time, watching your expression contort in pleasure as he parts your lips with his thumb, pressing the pad of his tongue against your sensitive clit, swiping the muscle side to side. you let out a soft moan, hands tangled in simon's dirty blonde locks, pushing his head down further.

"fuck-! just like that, please, feels so good..." you mewl, causing him to groan, his own hips rutting against the sheets, staining the fabric with his pre as he greedily sucked on your sensitive, pulsating nub.

you missed this. this overwhelming feeling of pleasure that hinders your thinking, preventing any coherent thought from entering your mind. you couldn't think, see, nor feeling anything aside from the heat pooling deep inside of you. if simon could unravel you this much with his mouth, how much more damage would he be able to do with his cock?

the thought alone was enough to send you over the edge, but just as you were about to let the feeling override your senses, simon pulls back and sat up, the lower half of his face covered in your arousal, a slick sheen coating his lips and his chin. "fuckin' delicious," he grunts, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

you let out a needy whine at that, lightly kicking simon for edging you. "you're an ass..." you grumbled, to which the older man responds to with an amused chuckle. "won't be sayin' that when i fuck you with this thing." he says, grabbing his thick cock and resting it on your belly. you gawk in awe at his size, swallowing the lump in your throat. how the hell were you going to fit that inside?

"it'll fit." simon mutters, as if reading your mind.

he reaches over to the nightstand, grabbing the small condom packet next to his lamp. he rips off the foil with his teeth, hurriedly slipping it on to his dick. simon's hands grip your hips, pulling you closer to him. he grabs his cock with one hand, dragging it up your slit, rubbing the fat head against your clit a couple of times before positioning himself against your entrance. "ready?"

"hurryyy...' you whine.

slowly, simon began to sink his girth into your pussy, stretching you out with his fat cock to a point where pain collided with the pleasure. you clutched onto his arm, a shuddering breath escaping you.

"that's it, love," he said, voice raspy and strained as he inched further inside of you, "good girl, taking me so well... just a little more, okay?"

you nod. it's all you could bring yourself to do as simon finally bottomed out. he lets out a grunt, gently rocking his hips into you. he kept a steady rhythm, taking his time with each thrust. the slow, agonizing pace drove you wild, especially after he denied you an orgasm just a few minutes prior.

"bloody fuckin' hell..." simon groans, inhaling sharply as your walls hugged snugly around his cock. "not gonna last long if you're this tight, love," he whispers, burying his face into the crook of your neck, nipping at your skin. a desperate whimper escapes your lips, legs wrapping around simon's waist as you complain about his pace. "faster, please... i can't, it's not enough..."

simon simpers, pulling back just enough to leave the tip inside before slamming back into your warm cunt, ripping out a loud moan from your mouth. "that what you want, love?" he asks smugly.

"fuck yes—again! fuck, do it again, please!"

who was simon to deny such a pretty litte thing?

his thrusts begin to accelerate, slamming into you frantically, driving his cock in and out of your tight, wet heat. "fuck, si—ah, shit!" you whimpered, eyes watering with each pound.

simon's hand reaches down, rubbing his thumb against your clit in circles. "does your boyfriend fuck you this good?" he growled, reveling in the way you seemed to tighten up around him at the question. "fucking answer." he demanded, delivering a single hard thrust, causing his tip to kiss your cervix. you cried out at the intensity, shaking your head, sputtering out incomprehensible words with each slam of his cock into your pussy. "gotta him bring him over then. show him how to treat a pretty little girl like you."

simon's previously rhythmic thrusts were now eratic, hips slapping into yours haphazardly, his hand beginning to ache with each circle of his thumb on your nub.

it didn't take long until you were finally teetering over the egde. you threw your head back, "simon, i'm almost—SIMON!"

with a loud cry and a final roll of simon's hips, you both reached your peak. simon let out a strained groan, releasing into the condom. he leaned forward, sighing, and rested his forehead against your shoulder blade.

for a few seconds, you lay in motionless silence, the sound of your shaky breaths filling the space as you both tried to regain your composure.

“jesus christ,” simon eventually groaned, pressing a brief kiss to your shoulder. “you felt amazing.” he then gently eased himself out of you and rolled onto his side, lying next to you. “your boyfriend’s really missin’ out,” he added.

as you lay there, your eyes flickered to your phone, which had been buzzing non-stop. simon noticed your distracted glance and asked, “boyfriend?”

before you could respond, he reached over, snatching the phone from your hand. with a decisive motion, he placed it back on his nightstand, out of reach. he turned back to you, pulling you closer with a firm, yet gentle embrace.

“let’s not think about him,” he said, his voice low and inviting. “tonight’s about you and me.” he nuzzled closer, his touch warm and insistent. “how about we see if we can make this night even better?”

with that, he guided you back into his arms, ready for round two, the promise of a deeper connection hanging in the air. as the night unfolded, the two of you lost yourselves in each other, making love with a renewed sense of passion and intimacy.

meanwhile, your phone continued to buzz with missed calls and texts from your boyfriend, each notification a reminder of the unresolved tension. but for tonight, you chose to ignore it all, focusing instead on the moment with simon and savoring the connection and pleasure that had been so absent. after all, wasn't it his idea for you to leave?

[theosphobia]

Hello rvbblr, rvb tumblr, the 3 people always liking my posts.

I bring my first ever fanfiction. and its rvb. idk how ao3 works so im just gonna drop it in here and hope thats accceptable.... erm... anyways

Everyone got seperated; the reds and blues were scattered in a pirate stronghold. Their long range comms were down and pirates lurked around every corner trying to hunt the sim troopers down.

Washington had just survived a scuffle, breaking into a run as he heard familiar shouting not too far off. Just around a couple shipping containers, Wash found Caboose standing over a pirate, Freckles' barrel smoking from fresh fire.

The blue caught the solider in the side of his vision and raised the ai-assisted rifle towards him, confetti dispersed from the gun.

"Friendly Signature Detected."

"Agent Washington! Uhm, he was like that when I got here."

Wash pushed the thought of Caboose firing at him away, he was just glad to see a friendly face.

"Caboose! Have you seen anyone else?" Wash asked, jogging up to the larger character.

Caboose looked back down at the pirate he was resting his foot on,

"On our team Caboose."

"Oh! No." Caboose shook his head and moved away from the body, sizing up to Wash.

"Are you doing okay? You hurt anywhere?" Wash started to walk and the other followed closely.

"I'm a little stressed out... and hungry.." he started. "We should find Griff next!"

Wash chuckled and patted Caboose on the back, "Hey Freckles?" The gun chimed in response, "can you find any other friendly contacts?"

"Nearest Friendly Tag is 356m away. Identification: Lavernius Tucker."

"Awesome, Can you guide us to him?" Wash asked. The custom laser sight on the rifle turned on and pointed forward. Caboose stared curiously, turning the gun from side to side, the line remained aimed toward its original path. Caboose gave a coo of amazement.

"Lets get going, the sooner we find the others the better."

--

Wash and Caboose followed Freckles' guide until they hit a large pond in the cave; they could see the remainder of the pirate stronghold on the otherside, but the water seemed to stretch to the walls, and they couldn't see the bottom. The laser ran true straight across the water.

Washington stopped for a moment to think while Caboose took a couple steps into the pond.

"I saw something over here! It might be those sim troopers!"

A voiced called from not too far away. Wash cursed to himself, a group of red dots were moving towards them on his motion tracker.

"Maybe they know how we can get across!" Caboose cheered, turning around towards the noise and started walking. Wash caught him by the arm,

"Caboose no they're trying to kill us remember?"

"Oh yeah.."

"There's no time, we're just gonna have to go through it." Wash sighed, leading the blue giant back towards the water and stepping in.

"Uhm I can't swim very well.." Caboose started, standing a bit back from Wash.

"We're not swimming, our suits will recycle air for a while, we should just be able to walk along the bottom." Washington informed him. The other man didn't argue, stashed Freckles, and followed along, both of the started to move as fast as they could in half-ton armour in water as the shouting grew louder.

They were fully submerged for a while before Wash started to notice something wrong, he was wet.

"Uh 'boose.... buddy, not to scare you or anything but I think my armour is filling up with water." Wash could feel a cut in his kevlar around his neck. He must have gotten it in that fight earlier.

"Wuh oh.." Caboose had stopped and turned to look at Wash, somehow he had managed to be moving faster than the freelancer. "Should we go back?" There was a tinge of panic in his voice.

"We can't... we just have to move faster, it can't be that much farther now" He tried holding his hand to seal the hole but water still managed to seep through his fingers, the water was hitting his waist now.

Caboose nodded and reached back, grabbing Wash's free hand, and started pulling him along so their treck sped up.

At some point, the weight behind him stalled.

"Agent Washington?"

"It's in my helmet."

Wash couldn't see, but Caboose's eyes widened. He moved closer to Washington,

"Freckles uhm.. how much further?" The blue asked as he began picking up Wash and slinging him over his shoulder without protest.

"Nearest Friendly Tag is 189m away"

Panic was rising in his voice, "okay thank you Freckles!" His speed was considerably lessened with the extra weight but that didn't stop Caboose from making his strides as quick as possible.

--

Wash had stopped responding about halfway from their predictament. Caboose didn't stop moving until they breached the shore on the other side.

Caboose laid Washington on the ground and unholstered Freckles, laying it behind them.

"Freckles you lookout for bad guys."

"Affirmative."

Oh crap oh crap oh crap... Caboose's hands shook as his fingers fumbled with the clasps on Wash's helmet and chestplate.

Water poured out as the seals broke, Wash's hair clung to his forehead. His chest laid still.

What do I do what do I do?? Think Michael think!! Caboose tried to remember what Doc had taught them ages ago. CPR CPR...

"First check to see if they're breathing! If they're not then you'll probably have to perform CPR. Since Grif already knows how to do it he'll be my demonstration."

Caboose glanced at the still freelancer, his chest was still, their chest moves when they breath right?

"Remember, you guys are wearing half-ton armour so you won't have to compress as hard as you would if you weren't. You should press down twice per second, there's songs that help but Beyoncé is timeless so we're gonna use Crazy In Love." Caboose positioned himself above Wash, tried to remember the correct hand shape, and hovered above the freelancer's chest. What if I mess up I don't want to kill Wash he's not special like Church is... he won't come back..

He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm his nerves. He started compressing, finding it easier to just count than remember Doc's silly song.

"Every 30 or so compressions try and give rescue breaths! Tilt their head back a little while pinching their nose to open their airway. Then you're gonna blow into their mouth a normal amount just enough so their chest rises; do that twice. If it doesn't rise make sure they don't have anything stuck in their throat. Grif is that gum I see in there?"

Caboose quickly brought his face to Wash's, blood splattered across his visor.

"Haha whoops sorry Washington!" He brought his hands back to unclasp his own helmet and set it to the side; turning back to brush away some of the bloody nose with his hand.

Caboose lingered slightly, he could feel the air around them now, he could also feel the lack of air coming from Wash's mouth. He cradled the back of Wash's neck in his hand, pinched his nose with the other and started his rescue breaths.

He fell into autopilot, repeating the steps in his mind over and over as he did them until a sharp breath came from Washington, as did a mouthful of cave pond water.

Caboose helped him sit up as Wash coughed up his missing breaths; his gaze fixated on the older man's movement.

"Caboose?" The blue's eyes bore into Wash, he seemed terrified. The feeling broke at the sound of his name however.

"Agent Washington you're okay! You should avoid drinking pond water, I don't think it's good for you." There was smeared blood on Caboose's face, Wash dipped his hand into the water and rubbed it against the stain.

"How'd you get blood on you 'Boose? Where's your helmet?" The other blue wore his helmet so often it was rare to see his face, his hair had gotten a bit longer and Wash could see wearing smile lines from his angle.

"Oh uhm! So when we got out of the water you weren't breathing so I tried to give you Cee Pee Arr but I forgot to take my helmet off! So now you have a bloody nose and you shared it with me when I gave you rescuing breaths!" He smiled, reaching beside him to grab his helm and snapped it back on, his second face returned.

Wash rubbed the back of his hand against his face, his helmet was off as well, and his own blood smeared against the glove.

"Holy shit you saved my life Caboose."

"I did?" His head tilted and he perked up again."I did! Oh my god does that mean my team kills go down? Because I saved you?"

Wash chuckled, clasping his breastplate back on and grabbing his helmet.

"Sure it does."

"Oh! You should probably cover that hole in case we have to go swimming again, Church always packed some for me..." Caboose dug around in his utility belt and procured a large patch used for underarmour sealing; he handed it to Wash and watched as the freelancer slapped it against his neck and rubbed it down.

"Geez thanks Caboose, you're really on it today." Wash said as brushed his hair back and locked his helm back in place.

Caboose wiggled from his seated position, paused, and grabbed Freckles before firing behind him.

Confetti dispersed from the rifle.

"Friendly Signature Detected."

"Caboose what the hell?! Did you really just try to shoot me?"

"Hi Tucker!"

[glueser]

hey guys its me

just for reference

BY THE WAY IF I MAKE YOU UPSET OR UNCOMFORTABLE PLEASE TELL ME SO THAT I KNOE WHAT NOT TO DO OR SAY!!! I WOULD RATHER BE UPSET AT MYSELF THAN HAVE YOU BE UNCOMFORTABLE BECAUSE OF SOMETHING I DID OR SAID /nf /gensrs /lh

the names i go by are Jacob or Taz :3

PLEASE ONLY CALL MY TAZMODEUS/JAKE/OTHER NICKNAMES IF WE ARE FRIENDS/MUTUALS!!! i am very uncomfortable with strangers calling me nicnames /gensrs

theantthatstoleyourlunch -> glueser

my old blog was @/redditplatinum

My dni is anyone depending on how im feeling idk but mostly creepy people

i have 0 personal tags i never remember to my posts with personal tags but i try to put tw and cw tags for things in posts that might be sensitive content for some reason and if i forget please dm me the thing i forgot to put a tw/cw tag on :)

I have rp blogs @/phantomgems and also @/epicrollerskater and @/epicswagmaster57

my art blog is @/glueser-draws

I have a gimmick blog called @bands-where-they-shouldnt-be

this blog will be fixated on regretavator, dhmis (maybe), and tmnt (also maybe) but regretavator is the biggest thing currently

also silly little thing erm i do not ship characters i like but a lot of the cool art of characters i like is ship art

so uh *curls up in a corner and cries* /hj /silly

I also have tags #fav #favorite #archive #my favorites just for my own evil nefarious purposes (remembiering things)

also i'll try to tag long posts as glueser epic rant

MUTUALS DM ME 4 MY BLUESKY ACC

I also have a strawpage ig yeah

[imbeingtauntedbyachild]

Tumblr only allows 30 tags so I’m continuing this train of thought

Technically tsukasas form starts fading and he turns into a bunch of lilies, rui is so sososososososo distraught and he tries killing himself. But he can’t lol! He tries going through tsukasas research but finds out he burned all of it so rui wouldn’t try to do the same thing. I have NO CLUE how long ago this would’ve taken place. But whatever! So rui just…goes to sleep forever. His one and only love is gone and he sees no reason in continuing on. So there’s a huuuuuuuge timeskip here. He wakes up in the present day and honestly idk what he does but I DO know he sees idolkasa on a billboard and he just stops. Erm. Again details are very muddy, but he knows that’s tsukasa and he sets out to go find him and be reunited. Which he’s able to do! And when he does he immediately starts bawling in front of tsukasa. Tsukasa is very VERY confused why this dirty, goth, tall, purple haired, guy just started crying and hugging him out of nowhere. And yea that’s the basic gist of everything

[raeygina-george]

All the questions you wanna anwser

(this is from an old ask game)

1. When did you start creating art?

erm idk.... 2019 or so?

2. Do you do art in any professional capacity? (Graphic design, commissions, animation, etc.)

not yet but im planning on being an art teacher

3. What are your favorite subjects to draw? (OCs, your fan faves, etc.)

anime characters..........

4. What's your least favorite part of the body to draw, if any?

hands or really any part of the body that's in perspective

5. What piece of art are you still proud of to this day? (Show or describe)

i'm not particularly proud of any of my pieces but here are some that i still really like :) (i also really like that one mari & sunny lily of the valley piece that i'm not attaching directly bc i don't wanna trigger tag)

6. Favorite and least favorite angles/perspectives to draw?

i don't really have any... what's easiest is just straight-on, but that looks boring, so I can't realistically say it's my favorite... but if it's hard then I don't like it either.... sigh

7. Who are some artists that have inspired you?

see okay the thing is. artists that inspire me seem to always have an art style that i Can't Really Replicate. like i've seen so many of those painterly-style ethereal anime girls and pieces with the most gorgeous fucking colors ive ever seen in my life and they look SO PRETTY but i just Don't Understand Them At All 😭😭

so i'd say rixypill because recently i saw one of their art pieces and the amount of relief it brought me was insane. it was a gorgeous gorgeous art piece AND it looked like something i could realistically achieve. i didn't even really realize it but for such a long time i was trying to turn my art style into Something Completely Different and idk it just made me realize that i could make beautiful art Without having it stop being My Art

8. How would you describe your art style?

pink (with guest appearances from purple, orange, yellow, and blue)

9. What's the longest you've ever suffered from artblock?

several months

10. How do you deal with art block?

i don't <3 (I do challenges with predetermined prompts, and you can add deadlines if that helps you)

11. Have you ever drawn a meme with your OCs or canon characters from a fictional media?

yeah, i think i've made mini-animatics for like 2 vines. i don't do enough art shitposting tho

12. Ever participated in a multi-artist collaboration (3 or more) such as a multi-animator project?

i mean i did like 2 meps when i didn't understand what the fuck I was doing but i don't think those can really be counted........ i've done like art telephones and 3-person art trades but nothing really outside of that

13. What kind of art do you personally not see the appeal of, and why?

i think all art has appeal if you look hard enough

14. Do you prefer to make fan content or original content?

fan content

15. Do you/have you participated in Artfight or art trades in general?

i've done artfight in the past but i don't think i'll do it again because i'm usually really busy in july and even if i'm not i really struggle with doing anything for artfight 💀 i've done a good amount of art trades tho and if any of mutuals are interested in art trading with me feel free to ask :D

16. What was something you used to struggle to draw with confidence/ease, but have now mastered?

i don't think i've mastered anything really 😭 but i'm definitely a lot better at eyeballing colors than when i first started!!

17. Your personal favorite works of art (not made by you) are...?

there are lots of really awesome works in this world that i really like and if i didn't list like 500 different artworks i wouldn't feel like i'd answered properly so im gonna sit this one out lol

18. Do you typically use filters on your art?

yeah, i use saturation filters + gradient maps + blending modes at the end of every piece

19. What's your biggest insecurity when it comes to your artwork?

i have so many 😭 i'm in the "i hate all my art" stage of improvement rn..... aside from that, i hate that a lot of my art is so boring.... like there's not a lot of interesting perspectives or actual Meaning... that's the main reason why i made ychallenge! i want to make pieces that invoke emotion & mean something to me and aren't just there to look pretty

20. What motivates/inspires you artistically? (topics, emotions, etc)

fandoms mostly! if i was doing solely originally art i'd make maybe like one thing a year

[nylon-vintage]

"Hmm."

☓ ⁑ all below is /ooc

erm,, hi. i don't know how to do a 'good' introduction so uermm uh yeah lets like. do this. i do not know what the fuck i am doing. help.

this blog is run by @x-z0ne !! call me kir, please !!! cough anyways

also, heres a masterlist of most other coroika askblogs, courtesy of my mutual @/violethursday.

asks i will not accept

⬇︎⇩⬇︎⇩⬇︎⇩⬇︎

* anything thats like, overly sexual towards the character or just something like that in general

* please just don't be creepy ngl

* i don't really plan on building some sort of story or any plot points, so please don't try to do that for the time being

* basic criteria of shit that people don't accept on askblogs

(i might add more.)

asks i will accept, and somewhat encourage

⬇︎⇩⬇︎⇩⬇︎⇩⬇︎

* interactions with other askblogs. i love interacting like that, its pretty fun

* generic questions!! i love being boring!!

* more than one ask from the same person/spam asks that have no intention to be irritating. i don't actually mind this at all, i think its fun :3

* annoy the fuck out of vintage i don't care, its funny as hell

*PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!!! GIVE ME FEEDBACK. I WANT TO IMPROVE WITH THIS ASKBLOG SHIT. GIVE ME TIPS AND ALL THAT CRAP!!

tags i will use i think. what the hell am i doing

⬇︎⇩⬇︎⇩⬇︎⇩⬇︎

general asks ➡︎ '#vin - ask'

anything ooc ➡︎ '#vin - ooc'

posts with no asks attached ➡︎ '#vin - general'

replies to other askblogs i might interact with ➡︎ '#vin - reply'

might add more here later if needed!!

some side notes

⬇︎⇩⬇︎⇩⬇︎⇩⬇︎

* please use tone tags/indicators if it feels necessary, i suck at differing tones in messages rgrgh

* i am not expecting very much from this askblog, it's simply something i'm going to do for fun.

* let me know if i shouldn't answer asks so quickly, because i do that on my main.

* asks will probably always be open, idk why this is important enough to note, but just saying

* i am not good with different personalities. vintage might be a bit, or a lot, out of character. let me know if i fuck up badly

some info about my interpretation of vintage used in this blog

⬇︎⇩⬇︎⇩⬇︎⇩⬇︎

* he gets quite emotional under the mention of skull, they're exes in my headcanons

* he's a bit gay for a specific cocky spiky haired guy, but he's in denial (hes been getting bullied alot for this its kind of obvious. sorry im a chronic doublevin believer)

* he is a bit forgetful.

* vin has a bit of a problem when it comes to eating food. he'll only eat it if it's super spicy, if it isnt spicy at all or not spicy enough he refuses to consume it. water and other beverages are exceptions

* he growls sometimes. like. animalistic growling. he taught himself how to do it a long time ago and now it's just an instinct for him to do so when he gets pissed

* double egg is a salmonling in this blog!!

* vintage has three cats, (exclusively in this askblog) named nexus, leo & army. (blame the anon who gave him that cat.)

anyways, i think thats all i need to note down?? anyways yet again, this is my first askblog, i'm going in blind. this might be fun maybe!!!

☓ ⁑ buh bye..

[i-did-not-mean-to]

20 questions for fic writers

Thank you so much @thenookienostradamus and @lordoftherazzles for the tag...

Let's see...

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 554 (with two not revealed yet as we speak...). Many of those are collections, though.

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 1,986,915 (erm...yeah...well)

3. What fandoms do you write for? Tolkien (The Hobbit, LOTR, The Silm). (+ the odd AU or Richard Armitage movie)

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? Tumblr Imagines (Wild Mix of everything) , October 2022 Ficlet run (same), A key change (Remix Fic), Black (Thorin x OC), Silm imagines and ficlets (Wild Mix again)

5. Do you respond to comments? Yes, in due time. I struggle a lot with being overwhelmed at times (imposter syndrome, fear of not knowing what to say, comments heaping up), but I am so thankful for every comment that I do try to answer them all in a timely manner.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I've written about 1k fics; I do not remember all of them :s I generally don't write angst, so I really couldn't say. Sorry :(

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Everything? I am a Happy Ending person, so most of my fics (eventually) get a happy ending :D

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not yet (crossed fingers). At times, I get comments I don't really understand (autism ahoi), but I hope that people didn't mean anything mean by it :)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? SMUT? ME? Noooo *cough*...Let's say it has happened! What kind? What kind do you want, baby? MF, FF, MM, trans characters, non-binary characters, threesomes, it has all happened. Sweet and tender? Check. Rough and dirty? Check. Dubconny and dark? Check. Just tell me what you want, and there is a good chance I've either done it or would do it :D

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? I have written one crossover for an event (where characters go into a whole different franchise). Otherwise, I am an AU bitch. Disney movies, musicals, you name it.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Again, not that I know of.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Once for an event. Otherwise, I think one could call what @cilil and @melkors-big-tits did for the calendar co-writing. In a way, many collabs with artists are co-written. Any event collab is co-writing (to me). Me stealing @cilil's ideas is co-writing. Me asking for ideas on the @fellowshipofthefics and @tolkienpinupcalendar servers is co-writing. So...yes...yes I have, and I've loved it.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Ori x OC, Maedhros x Fingon, Eönwë x Gothmog

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Black. It's one of my first fics, and there's only a chapter or so missing...but I don't know if I'll ever finish writing that last chapter. There are a few more where I've written 1-5 additional chapters and never uploaded them...for reasons (?). By now, I am too ashamed and lazy to get back to them.

16. What are your writing strengths? Versatility and speed. I am a mediocre writer in my 5th foreign language, and I make no bones about it. Nevertheless, I am willing to give anything and everything a try :D

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I am extremely wordy. It takes me too long to get to the smut. I refuse to describe settings and geography, so all my plots seem a bit floating and vague.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I avoid using languages I don't speak which includes Tolkien's languages. I am too afraid to make mistakes or to sound cringe to people who know better than me. As for RL languages...a word maybe, but a whole sentence (again) might feel contrived...IDK everyone does as they want, but I am not feeling it for myself.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Hamilton (and yes, those stories are orphaned and can never be traced back to me) Otherwise, the Hobbit LOL

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? Monkey-business, because I really liked writing that fic. It's a kitschy Hallmark Christmas story featuring Ori (not interesting, I know). But that's my personal fave lol...

Hmmm, let's tag @maglor-my-beloved, @lathalea, @scyllas-revenge, @laurfilijames, @middleearthpixie, @littlesweetdressmaker, @legolasbadass, @urwendii, @cilil, @the-red-butterfly, @fishing4stars, and @elentarial to get a good mix of people :D

[t4tpumpkinduo]

HURI I JUST READ THE TAGS ON YOUR LIKE ~DISCOURSE~ POST AND PEOPLE ARE DOING *WHAT* WITH FHAT CLOWN????? HELLO?????? < INDIGENOUS PERSON

IIT'S LIKE 😭 REALLY REALLY BAD YEAH sorry to subject you to this goddamn

like i said on the post's comments erm. idk i really don't understand how hcing one of the most horrifically accurate depictions of an abuser, someone who KIDNAPS AND CONDITIONS CHILDREN, someone who's unfounded claims of ownership of a land that wasn't ever his in the first place he used as an excuse to brutalize and kill and torture people, as indigenous whn he's played as and by an entitled pissboy white guy has gotta be one of the takes of all time. iit reads as so so so so tone deaf and transparent to me

the worst part is it's Really not as uncommon as it should be. ppl hve been using tht as a point to say his actions were justified for a long long while now, and that the lmanberg citizens were colonists which. again. 1. no the fuck they weren't and 2. making these characters who are objectively oppressed become racially coded colonizers to try to justify their subjugation is ERM. 😁 UHM!!!!

like idk. i just don't think this kind of language should even be used in dsmp discussions in the first place. it's a fairly straight forward tracable story and the invoking of these real horrific happenings and codings to a story played by gringos to give the gringo of choice a kind of excuse for you to hide them behind seems a little. idk. tone deaf rlly is the word for it. 👍 mb think abt why you do things and why you believe things

[p-oisn]

hii i’m so in love w your blog!!! i was wondering if you have any advice on how to get more engagement? i’m trying to post consistently but i feel like i don’t gain a lot of likes/followers :(

hii thank you so much omg ☹️

first off I hope you don't feel demotivated that your acc is taking a long a long time to grow , it's okay ! you're trying your best and ilu for that ^_^ (it took me around 6-7 months for me to reach 100 followers and get a decent amount of notes on my previous acc so erm ...;-;)

BUUT honestly I don't know LMFAOOI 😭

my biggest advice is to interact with the community ! post comments , reblog your fav posts etc and just make yourself recognised . idk but this has helped me a LOTT and I've also made amazing friends eueheheg

you can also make moodboards for your fav accs :) but don't tag them too much .. 😓

enter events ! the prizes for winning them usually consist of reblogs n shoutouts so you can get more notes from that .

try making your moodboards as unique as possible ! (maybe try developing a consistent style too ... which shouldn't be coming from me bc my stule is very inconsistent i think .)

eerm yeah ;-; idk anymore .. in the end its all abt having fun , i hope you treat moodboard making as a hobby rather than a chore 💓

[taliesin-19]

Boy, it's been ages since I've done one of these... I'll start this by yelling at you for ever doubting or second-guessing yourself of not being capable of writing a good Luna. Fuck off, that was delightful. Now, since this is in fact an ask, if you had narrow it down 3 aspects that makes you write dialogue and particularly children's dialogue, what would they be? I know you obviously have a lot of experience, but that doesn't always translate well to paper... Love ya 😍 #nextchapterwhen

Hey random reader! This answer has been a long time coming, but I'm going through some old asks and figured I'd give this one a try.

So three things that I find Important in writing dialogue? Let's see...

1. Unique character voice. The goal should always be for the reader to be able to distinguish who is talking even without a dialogue tag. Just a few examples from my writing:

Harry usually talks more dryly, struggles to put things into words and can be unintentionally blunt because of it. He's got some 'ers' and 'erms'. He's not very verbose unless he's more emotional.

Abby talks a lot. She starts sentences and goes in a different directions. She's probably got the most dashes and ellipses in her dialogue. When she's nervous or excited, she talks more. When she's upset, she doesn't talk much at all.

Ron's dialogue is one of the most fun to write for me. He's usually poking fun at people, lightening the mood, being the voice of reason. A lot of his dialogue is sarcastic, filled with slang and swears. He's not a talker either. He'll have the one-liners that serve as comic relief most of the time. But when he's serious, he's gonna toss a few words at you that instantly shut you up and make you realize you're being an idiot.

Hermione is also fun to write. She's obviously going to have the biggest vocabulary, never swear, not have too many dashes and ellipses because she's usually very eloquent. Sometimes her anxiety will kick in though, and she may stutter and overcompensate by talking more.

As for the kids, writing children's dialogue is definitely tricky. They all need their own voices too. They can't be too cutesy or too mature. I find what helps is writing normal dialogue, but then changing grammar structure and word usage to reflect their age. They're probably all going to have a lot of run on sentences and dashes to reflect how their thoughts shift more quickly. Lily will have a few speaking errors (not overdone) like saying certain big words wrong (ex. 'vestigates instead of investigates) or having grammatical errors ("funner" instead of more fun), etc. Lily is also very repetitive sometimes to indicate when she's being whiny. Al doesn't talk much except when he's with an adult one on one, or he's fighting with his siblings. James takes over most conversations, even with his cousins and tends to be bossy and self-assured. You won't see him with as many rambling/ellipses-filled dialogues.

And now that I've rambled, the next two important factors:

2. Sentence structure variety. This applies to all writing, but dialogue should especially not be a whole page of:

"blah blah blah," he said.

"blah blah blah," she said.

You need to mix it up to get a nice rhythm of reading and to make the conversation feel organic.

A. "B," he said.

"B", she said. "B."

A.

"B".

(if that makes any sense)

Adding movement in the dialogue tags is Important as well to remind readers that these are living breathing people that aren't just spouting words at each other.

This kind of leads into the last thing (for now, there's many other things I'm sure).

3. Creating a rhythm. Idk how to properly title it or describe this. But the time it takes to read the words on the page should be relatively equal to the rhythm in which you want the characters to speak. So if you want a pause, use words outside the dialogue to create the pause. For ex:

"The sky is blue," Harry said.

"You're right."

Vs.

"The sky is blue," Harry said.

Abby looked up, squinting at sun before looking back at Harry. "You're right."

In the second example, you're forced to create a pause in the dialogue which more naturally replicates the rhythm of speaking. I find it helps to read things out loud to hear the rhythm. But just like with point #2, you want a good variety in rhythm. Cause if it's too uniform it won't sound natural.

Okay I hope that answers your question. I could go on about this stuff cause I love dialogue so much. Prose can gtfo though

[drowsyanddazed]

find a word tag

the rules are simple - find the word (or something close enough) in a fic (WIP, published, whatever) and share the excerpt it’s in.

words i was given: moon, skin, flavour, ache, try

your words: wrist, bright, want, blood, sun

thanks for the tag @colgatebluemintygel :) this was fun!

i tag: @pomegranate-pill @kreestars @weighty-ghosts @steelycunt idk if you guys have been tagged/already did it but erm what’s the harm in doing it again? (if you’d like!)

excerpts under the cut:

moon - from the currently unnamed wip

“Have you been here at all this term?” Sirius asks, pouring some milk into his tea.

“Once,” Remus says, biting the inside of his cheek. “With Cardoc.”

Sirius’ eyes flicker up at that, unreadable as they meet Remus’ and then he looks away, off to the side.

“He didn’t care much for it though,” Remus adds because for some reason it seems important.

It works. Sirius turns back to him, tide and moon.

“His loss,” Sirius says, gaze unwavering.

Remus’ heart is a snare drum in his chest.

He brings his mug up to his lips. “Yeah,” he susurrates, amphoric against the ceramic rim of his cup, and then he swallows down his tea and looks away.

skin - this desperate in love

But that’s the problem, isn’t it? A bat of the eye and he’s completely done for. Because, a long time ago now, Sirius reached in, between the brittle bones of his ribcage, and squeezed, leaving behind an indentation on Remus’ heart, a sunken, soft spot like that on overripe fruit that spreads fast and irrevocably until all there’s left is mush. Mush where a heart should be. And the fact is, Remus doesn’t know how to say no, doesn’t know if he’s capable. Because while being wrapped around Sirius’ finger gives Sirius complete power to devastate him, it’s also exciting, consuming, electricity at touch, it’s the wind in your hair and the vertiginous drops to a valley below, gooseflesh on skin, a buzzing in your bones, and a frisson down your spine.

And so when Sirius bends down to whisper, “Let’s go,” in his ear, the smell of amber and oud wood at his shoulder, Remus’ fate is already sealed.

ache - losing my mind, thinking about you

The bite of the parky night air and the cold brick wall of the Hog’s Head exterior is a welcomed comfort as he leans against the brickwork and rummages around his jacket pocket for his box of cigarettes. The sound of his fumbling echoes against the walls of the alleyway, making his small movements more pronounced, rising and meeting the tension and his need for tobacco between his teeth.

There’s flames, licking their way up his chest, and he aches to put them out in the only way he knows how— with more fire. More, more, more. Until he’s suffocating on it, until it turns him numb.

try - this desperate in love

His hippocampus is working overtime trying to memorize the press of his hips against the kitchen counter, Sirius’ hand on his waist, Sirius’ breath, hot and humid and frantic, down his neck so he can slip the memory into his back pocket and pull it out to examine later again and again and again until the edges are worn and true.

i couldn’t find flavour anywhere! so here’s another try instead:

try - bless the telephone

There’s a click as the record stalls, preparing to move on to the next track and, in the sliver of silence between, the kitchen phone begins ringing.

“I got it!” Lily calls over her shoulder, pushing her way into the kitchen just as the drums for the next song kick in. The saloon-style doors swing shut behind her, clapping loudly in place.

This seems to wake Peter, who bolts upright, face viridescent and eyes wide. And then he’s blundering his way down the hall, towards the bathroom. “leaving Sirius lying here, the blood rushing to his head as he stares at the empty corner of the living room. He squints at the clock there, trying to make sense of it upside down and five drinks in and immediately gives up.

“Shit,” James mutters, before getting up to trail after him, leaving Sirius lying here, the blood rushing to his head as he stares at the empty corner of the living room. He squints at the clock there, trying to make sense of it upside down and five drinks in and immediately gives up.

[luukeskywalker]

20 questions writer meme.

THANKYOUUU @crimsonrainseekingflower FOR TAGGING ME!! <33

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

92!?!?!?!?!?!!?!?!??! WHEN DID THAT HAPPEN?!?!?!?!!?

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

409,439 i feel a little lightheaded tbh

3. What fandoms do you write for?

erm a lot of them LMFAO but my main fandoms are star wars, mxtx novels, one piece, and then supernatural once in a while

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Pros and Cons of Keeping Wei Wuxian's Spirit Hostage - hua cheng keeping wwx's spirit safe during the time he was dead, 12k words, 4.5k kudos (this is insane)

there's a STALKER in the CLOUD RECESSES??? - hualian adopts wei wuxian and raises him, he goes to cloud recesses and causes trouble :3c, 5.7k words, 2.7k kudos (this is also insane to me)

sun beneath the sea - merman wangxian au i wrote for the mdzs reverse bang! 19.2k words, 1k kudos (this is slightly less insane)

Jin Ling and the No Good Very Bad Terrible Year of Cloud Recesses Bullshit - my first mdzs fic! 2.9k words, 912 kudos (thank you?!?!?!)

a kiss with a helmet is better than none - omg the first non mdzs fic on this list LOL, this was a short dinluke fic i wrote when i first got really back into star wars. 1.1k words, 911 kudos (LOVE U GUYS!!!)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

i do usually within the first two days! after that i tend to either get too busy and feel bad responding to comments super late or i just plain forget ;A; but i read every comment and they mean the absolute world to me!! i'm trying to get better at responding but it really isn't my strong suit.....

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

this is a tie imo between the precipice from my skywalker palindrome series (i prommy i will upload another installment.....eventually), and Star Light, Star Bright (which is about apollo dreaming of clay while he's in the hospital for the courtroom bombing)

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

in my personal opinion it's gotta be No One Lives Forever, my deancas big bang - it was a labor of love, and also how much i wish certain plot lines could have been wrapped up more properly!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

occasionally i get a comment telling me they didn't expect my fics to be full of "gay shit" but i think those comments are mostly funny, like, bestie this is the gay shit fanfic website. but once in a while people will bookmark my fics with fairly negative comments/judgements and that's just like.......why make that public????

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

hehe. i love writing smut. idk what "kind" this would be but i tend to gravitate towards silly weird sweet kinda kinky sex???

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

i do write crossovers! i haven't in a while (unless you count mxtx novel crossovers which only half count imo LOL) but i think the craziest one i've ever posted is the star wars/animorphs one that is unfinished and will probably remain unfinished for a long time ;~;

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

i know i've definitely had elements of my fics show up in other people's work before but it's not something i keep track of these days, i don't have a lot of time to read fic ^^;; however a few months ago i did find some podcasters had read my fic aloud and commented on it and put it up on the free tier of their patreon??? they said really nice things about it which was a shocker but i feel my insides curdling whenever someone reads my ao3 username out loud HAHAHA

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

i have had them translated a few times! i think pros and cons has a translation or two floating around, and i thiiink? some fics from skywalker palindrome have been translated? i know someone asked and it took me a few days to reply to tell them yes (again, terrible at replying, that's my bad)

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

not exactly a singular fic but i love co-writing series together with my bestie!!!

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

AAUUUGH YOU CAN'T ASK ME THAT. I CAN'T ANSWER. but i did one time listen to wangxian.mp3 about fifty times in one day, recently

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

so many.

if i HAD to pick one, i guess i'd say....the straight up 10k of twilight au moshang i have hiding in my google docs. maybe i will just post what i have and leave it at that one day because that was a lot of work to never share it LMFAO

16. What are your writing strengths?

dialogue, visual description, characterization

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

FINISHING THE DAMN THING. both in terms of actually sticking to a fic long enough to finish it, and also the concept of endings as a whole.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

i don't think i've personally done it, but if i needed to i'd like to make sure it's accurate, readable, and translatable for someone who doesn't read the language.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

i actually can get a link to it if fanfic dot net is still working!! (spoiler alert: it is...for now!)

anyways, the first fic i wrote/published was for the lost boys. it hardly counts as a fic bc it's more like a meme that was going around at the time on ff.net, which was a "you've seen [x media] way too many times if...!" list of in-jokes. here it is. and if you want to look at some of my other extremely old stuff i wrote over ten years ago, be my guest i guess! fair warning a lot of it is not great!

20. Favorite fic you've written?

i know this is cheating but i have to say i think my favorite fic i've worked on is the skywalker palindrome as a whole. it's a series of fics but they work together to tell a story that remains an open-ended tragedy. we know where anakin ends up. luke knows who anakin becomes. and it seems like nothing luke can do will turn anakin away from that path. this is the rare situation where i actually have a very clear idea of how it all ends, and i just need to write my way there - which is going to take quite a while QAQ

tag time!!! @deusexvalerate GET TAGGED!!!!!

[trippy-maskow]

??? bro?? i dunno how you read "they're fictional, so they cant have actual long lasting trauma from belos, another fictional character, esp since in teh show in teh time skip they SEEM FINE"

and "belos is fictional, they havent hurt anyone irl"

And spun it

TO ME BEING A PROSHIPPER??

Im sorry but that was a polite way of me telling you that you're weirdly attached/biased to the show/characters, and maybe need to touch grass.

Weirdest fuckin Deflect of critism.

Just trying to make me look bad to whoever won't bother reading anything, and will just stroll to the tags and go 'yeah they MUST be a proshipper if this dude says so' . Becuase who touches grass on teh internet??

As I said in the post, most if not all the stuff you said in your psot arent really?? said??

Like idk where youre finding anyone saying that Luz and hunter need more trauma??

I dont think they need more trauma, I think they need to have resolve to their trauma yes, not more of it.

We do love some angst here and there in our au's and fics liek every other fan duh, but we dont pure it out over everything like " EVERYONE SUFFERS, AND ONLY BELOS HAS A GOOD TIME AHAH" the fuck no.

Also the term Stan is defined as: On social media, "stan" is a term used to refer to someone who is a very enthusiastic and dedicated fan of a particular celebrity, musician, or public figure.

Are we technically Stans?? uhh. Erm. I don't think stans of a regular celeb would talk about shoving him in a washing mashine. idk tho.

"I ain't reading all that"

thats one way to ignore critism. Should've done that instead of calling me a proshipper but be my guest ig.

I called you an idiot bc of the amount of flaws and contridictions in your arguement. not to mentions, you said you aren't bias, yet you clearly are.

Also, as I said, we dont want the characters/kids to get hurt?? Neither IRL ones?

Also dont fucking call me baby. I'm not comfortable with that.

In case it was obv with my pinned post I'm a minor dude.

Only saying this cuz Belos Stan’s have been annoying lately (I like Belos myself, but man y’all have terrible takes holy shit)

Like if you like him cuz he’s a good villain, fine. If you’re mad he didn’t get a proper death, you missed the entire point of his death/character but whatever, keep your bias I truly do not care. I like Belos myself, in fact I like this show a lot but I have never and will never let my own bias towards a show or character effect how I criticize a series and how they handle certain things because I like to criticize the things I enjoy.

But the fact that people wanted Luz to suffer more, lose a limb, lose somebody close to her for good, etc. is fucking insane to me she is a 14 yr girl who is going to have lifelong trauma because of Belos. She has literally lost enough. Girl literally thought she deserves to be hated by those she loves and wanted to literally die. All we’ve ever wanted for this poor girl was for her to have a happy ending and she got it!!! This show does a good job at not falling into any bullshit tropes lmfao.

If you didn’t want some cheesy happy ending why the hell are you watching this show? It has been cheesy and bs since the beginning “weirdos have to stick together” like this show is CRINGEY!!! It always has been!!! It’s a Disney cartoon what did you expect!!! Very rarely does a Disney cartoon not have a happy ending honestly amphibia is the only one I can think of that wasn’t completely happy (correct me if I’m wrong???)

The fact people even wanted hunter to go through even more trauma by watching his uncle die???

Like god what is wrong with you. LEAVE MY KIDS OUT OF IT!!!! UR FUCKING WEIRD!!!

For real like I’ll never understand Belos Stan’s because truly they are the only people with this kind of criticism and it’s genuinely so weird you’d want characters, KIDS, that suffered enough to go through even more trauma because you wanted more for your fav who doesn’t even deserve it anyway. Lol. Like “wanted him to suffer more” since when is putting villains through misery any better .. Luz does not forgive Belos but she’s not gonna freakin torture the guy, she’s wants him gone as fast as possible and she isn’t wrong for that. She provided justice for all those that he hurt.

Again idc if you like him, I like him to an extent. But again, you’re weird for wanting the abuser to have a proper way out (something he wanted, something that’s taking mercy upon him and feeds into his delusion) and wanting the abused kids to suffer even more irreversible trauma.

Yes I have my own personal criticisms, I don’t think the way he went out was bad but they did nothing with Caleb and all the others. Not even a moment where they watch Belos die. Just feels like they added that in ep 2 for nothing.

But the whole Luz and hunter didn’t lose enough bs? You’re out of your fucking mind.

[imherongraystairstrash]

Puzzles

A/N: Idk if this is good, but I wanted to write it so bad, so I did it because I can:

Ship: Sophideon + Family fluff

Title: Puzzles

...

Sophie woke to the warmth of Gideon’s body and the crackling of the fire in the hearth. She could also hear the children, speaking in hushed tones and giggles. Cracking open an eye, she saw that they were currently sitting side-by-side by the coffee table, their backs facing her. Her left arm was resting on Gideon’s chest, and it rose and fell with his steady breathing.

She realized that their legs were tangled together under the thick blanket that she could only assume their children had placed over them. She closed her eyes and took a blissful stretch before resting her temple on her husband’s shoulder. He was still asleep, emitting soft snores that she felt in her belly.

They had been patrolling all night, and had barely gotten any sleep before their children woke them up again, ready to begin the day. Sophie and Gideon lasted until midday before they must have fallen asleep. The fact that they’d managed to stay awake that long surprised Sophie.

She wiggled her toes a little bit and adjusted herself, so that she could stretch the leg that was thrown over Gideon’s hips. His hand was warm on the small of her back, and she didn’t want to accidentally shift in such a way that would cause it to slip off her. Therefore, each movement was minuscule and delicate.

Gideon’s breath stirred the smallest tendrils of her hair. She looked up at him, brushing a lock of hair away from his forehead. She loved him very much. So much so, she often surprised herself, as she had never thought she could ever love someone again, after what had happened to her all those years ago. She kissed his jawline and put her ear to his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat against her cheek.

It was times such as these that she felt as if the world stopped at her fingertips; like no matter what happened, she would be fine, as long as she were here, with Gideon by her side and their children near.

She heard Gideon grunt softly, as he always did before he woke up, before slowly opening his eyes. He blinked a little, his dazed eyes slowly roaming the room, and closed them once more. He turned to where she was, resting the tip of his nose against her forehead.

“Good morning,” he muttered, his voice an octave deeper than usual and thick with sleep.

“Evening is more like it,” she replied, reaching up to stroke his impossibly soft hair.

She felt Gideon’s muscles shift as he stretched them, the hand he had on her waist tensing briefly as he did so.

Finally, Gideon let out a breath through his nose and said, “that was the greatest sleep I’ve ever had in my entire life.”

Sophie chuckled softly. “I would have thought the best sleep of your life would have been on our wedding night.”

Gideon opened his eyes and smiled, “we didn’t do much sleeping that night, though, did we?”

Sophie nudged him with her elbow. “Why is it that you’re only like this around me? You act diplomatically and mature to everybody, and yet you say the most scandalous things when it is just us.”

Gideon pressed a soft and lasting kiss on her lips. He then brought his lips close to her ear and muttered, “I’m not trying to woo everybody else,” before kissing the spot where her jawline began.

Sophie’s eyes shuttered closed, Gideon’s warm breath sending shivers down her spine, but she turned her face away from him and nodded in the direction of their children. “We should spare them the sight of their parents kissing.”

Gideon turned to where they were huddled around the puzzle. Sophie resisted the urge to turn his face towards her and kiss him regardless.

He looks back at her soon enough, his sea green eyes bright in the soft light the fire emitted.

“They’re not paying attention.” He said, brushing a strand of her hair away from her face with his knuckle. “They have their backs to us.”

“They could turn around at any second and begin shrieking, like two of them did last time.” Sophie said.

It was no mystery to anybody who the two that had done said shrieking were.

Gideon presses his lips together at the memory of that before raising his eyebrows and smirking.

“What’s that smirk all about?” Sophie asked.

Before Sophie could so much as to guess what it could be about, Gideon turned on his side and lifted the thick blanket so that it shielded them from the children.

“How is this?” He asked, kissing her nose.

Sophie huffed out a laugh. “It’s better, I suppose. At least this way, our eardrums will remain intact.”

“Hallelujah.” Gideon said, flashing her a dazzling smile, that made her insides melt. She put both of her hands on either side of his face and lowered his lips towards her own. They kissed softly, unrushed and lavishingly so.

Gideon was so warm. His body seemed to emit heat when he slept, which meant that right now, his skin was hot enough that it felt as though Sophie were standing right in front of a furnace. It ended up working in their favor, because whenever Thomas gets too cold at night, they plant him next to Gideon and he’s able to fall asleep. They’re absolutely adorable when they sleep together, if Sophie does say so herself.

Sophie giggled against his lips, causing them to break apart.

“What?” Gideon asked, his smile soft as he kissed the corners of her lips.

“I just thought about something silly.” She said, spreading her hands on his chest and roaming upward, intertwining them at the nape of his neck.

“Would you care to elaborate?”

Sophie shook her head giggling.

“Come now,” he said, playfully, “I’m dying of curiosity.”

“Alright. I was thinking about the time you slipped off the roof while we were patrolling in London.”

Gideon laughed through his nose, burying his nose in a particularly sensitive spot of her neck. “I’m never living that down, aren’t I?”

Sophie shrugged her left shoulder and kissed Gideon’s bottom lip when he lifted his head.

“Not a chance.”

His eyes fluttered shut as he kissed her shamelessly, his hands sending shivers through her as they travelled up and down the sensitive skin of her waist and hips.

“We should stop,” Gideon said, breaking apart. “Before they realize we’re awake.”

“Yes, I suppose we should.” Sophie said.

They kissed once, twice and then thrice (for good measure) before reemerging from the blanket.

Once they’d gotten over their daze, they arranged themselves in each other's arms, fitting like pieces of a puzzle, and gazed towards their children. They were quiet as they built a puzzle Sophie had left out for them while she and Gideon rested on the couch for a while. They hadn’t expected to fall asleep, but thankfully, the children were still entertained by the puzzle. Barbara had a blanket over her shoulders and had placed little Thomas in her crossed legs, periodically hugging him and adjusting the blanket, so that he didn’t get cold.

Thomas, on the other hand, took every opportunity Barbara was looking away to try to crawl out from the blankets and watch the puzzle-making action.

Eugenia was humming to herself, picking up random pieces and fitting them together. Every time she’d manage to get them to go together, she’d get up and do a little twirl, before sitting down once more and starting the whole process all over again.

Thomas was the first to realize they’d woken up. He gave them a toothy grin and crawled out of Barbara’s arms. Using the table to slowly get to his feet, he padded over to Eugenia.

When he got close enough, however, Sophie reached over Gideon’s chest and scooped him up. She tucked him into her arms and kissed his little cheeks.

“You’ve been caught by the love monster.” She said tickling and attacking him with kisses. Thomas giggled and tried to squirm away from her, but she held on tighter.

Part of her wants to hold Thomas forever. It felt like just yesterday he’d been born, four months and two weeks premature. He was still so small and light in her arms and got sick far too easily, but she thanked the Angel everyday for his life. Her miracle child. Who seemed very keen on getting away.

She stopped peppering him with kisses enough to hold him away so that she could see his face.

“You don’t love the Love Monster?”

He met her stare before putting his hands on her cheeks and kissing her forehead. Sophie

raised her eyebrows at him and when he giggled again, she tucked him in her arms.

“No,” she heard a soft voice say.

She pulled back. “What?”

“I love Mama, not the Love Monster.”

Gideon chuckled and ruffled his hair.

Sophie gave Thomas a final kiss on the forehead and let him go to his sisters.

They watched their children put puzzle pieces together, Eugenia aggressively so, going so far as to slam her fist upon two tricky pieces.

“Mama! Papa! Do you like it?” Eugenia said, gesturing towards the unfinished puzzle.

They both craned their necks to see.

“Oh. Erm…”

“We love it!” Sophie said.

“It’s lovely.” Gideon added.

When the kids turned around again, Sophie covered her mouth.

“There’s not a single puzzle piece that’s connected to its corresponding partner, is there?” Gideon asked.

“No, I’m afraid that in the hours we’ve been asleep, they haven’t managed to piece any together correctly.” Sophie said.

Gideon pressed his lips together and shrugged. “Well…”

“They’ll get more intelligent with age.” Sophie said.

“Yes, yes. I should think so.”

“I should hope so.”

They looked at each other and smiled, and then laughed, perfectly content with the life they had made for themselves.

...

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