#i'd be tempted to write more but i have a long-fic and a oneshot that kinda deal with the same material

[kiatheinsomniac]

KINKTOBER 2022

✩*⢄⢁✧day thirty: age difference - Thranduil

tag: #Tyelpëlos Kinktober Event

notes: I told myself I wouldn't write any more long oneshots for kinktober and did I listen? No AHAHA which is why this is late BUT this fic marks the end of my kinktober! This was so much fun and I'd love to do it again next year with Eden! This is my first time writing daddy kink and I would like to just really emphasize that all characters are 18+ and I was hoping the mention of reader having some alcohol would help convey this however I later realised that might be misinterpreted as underage drinking otherwise lmao. Reader is an adult but it's just a family vacay, ok? Good. Now that that's out of the way, enjoy!

word count: 5.3k

warnings: smut, NSFW, MDNI, age difference, older man/younger woman, modern! AU, mentions of alcohol consumption, daddy kink

You flipped through pictures of your holiday so far: of your family and that of your brother’s friend Legolas. Your fathers met through their sons and got on really well and so your two families had ended up planning a holiday together, staying in a flashy hotel on a hot coastline. In your hotel room, you revelled in the salt in their air from the balcony door, the quiet whir of the air conditioner, the cool chill of it against the aloe vera on your skin after being between the blistering sun and warm shade all day on the beach, near inhaling one of the books that you had brought with you for entertainment. 

Speaking of entertainment, you were – very guiltily – finding that your fantasies were no longer restricted to the characters to your book but seemed to have latched onto Legolas’ father Thranduil. The epitome of a dilf, you had thought the first time you saw him. He looked like he had stepped right out of one of your fantasy worlds, Game of Thrones or something, and had just perfectly settled into the modern world – well, except for his rather pointed ears which his son seemed to have inherited from him. He was utterly gorgeous: possessing a towering height, a face that could strike envy within an angel, hair like flowing silk and a powerful sort of confidence about him. 

Some stupid part of you was thrilled to be looking so dolled up in his presence tonight. You weren’t one to splash your cash on designer clothes but your heart had just been ensnared by this particular dress. The price tag was enough to put you off for a moment but it was just so beautiful and nothing that you would see everyday. It was a soft white and fell to your mid-thigh, short and sheer puffy sleeves, a dipping neckline that wasn’t low enough to really be considered anything scandalous. It had a sheer layer that shimmered slightly over the silky material of the dress that felt simply exquisite against your skin, the sheer layer being decorated with lacy butterflies and flowers that just slightly lifted away from the material they were sewn too. Trying it on in the fitting room really had been enough to tempt you into spending your money for that month. You couldn’t afford to treat yourself to anything else and had to be careful with your money until you got your next paycheck at the end of the month but as you sat down in the hotel’s restaurant, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it one bit. 

Dinner was going really well and damn did Thranduil look good in those hunter green slacks and that white button down, undoing the top buttons and rolling up the sleeves-  You had to stop yourself from nearly drooling as you glanced at the young man with long golden hair at the table, reminding yourself that you were thirsting over his father who was a widowed man. How terrible could you possibly be? Besides, even if he were seeking a partner, you were near sure that it wouldn’t be someone a year younger than his son. 

And that was when dinner stopped going really well because your brother dropped his phone and, in reaching out to try and grab it before it hit the table, he knocked over your glass of vodka and orange juice which went rolling off the table and straight down your front and into your lap with how close you had been sitting to the table to avoid dropping anything in your new expensive dress. There was a big fuss about it, especially from your mother who got to scolding your older brother as though he were still a child but you weren’t interested in being fussed over or hearing your brother apologise, you were just upset over your new dress, the one thing you had treated yourself to in a long time, being ruined. You would feel stupid for crying about it in front of everyone – let alone in public – so you simply dismissed yourself from the table, saying you would return to the hotel to get out of the dress and take a shower, the orange juice already feeling sticky against your upper thighs. 

So, you did exactly that. You left the restaurant to go to the lift where you went up to the floor of your hotel room, shifting your phone in your hand to get the keycard before remembering that you had left it on the restaurant table. How could you be so careless? Likely because you were very upset. You let out a single sob at how one bad thing had happened after another but caught yourself, knowing that you would have to face everyone again when you went to collect your key. So, you marched back up the corridor to the lift, pressing the down button before the doors opened to reveal Thranduil who then held up your key between two fingers. 

“I thought you might need this.” His usual stoic face softened to a sympathetic look, “Come on, sweetheart, let’s get you cleaned up.” He spoke, setting his hand between your shoulder blades and guiding you towards your family’s room, unlocking your door and holding it open for you. The door locked behind you. “You seemed so upset, I thought you could do with some company so you wouldn’t be alone with it this evening.” 

“The evening?” You raised a brow at the implication of his words. 

“Everyone else has decided to go out for drinks but I have an important work call to take in the morning so I had to pass on it anyway.” The corner of his mouth quirked up in amusement, “I’m trusting your father will be able to keep Legolas in line.” 

“He raised my brother, I’m sure he can manage anyone at this point.” You replied, making Thranduil laugh lowly and it quelled your want to weep for your ruined dress. But the silent tears were still there and you lowered your head to try and hide them, feeling that he would see you as silly and childish for crying over clothes. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” He cooed and watched as you sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at the orange juice staining the lap of your white dress. You felt the mattress dip with his weight beside you and you kept your head down, cursing the hot tears brimming in your eyes, “it’s such a shame, it really is a beautiful dress.” He complimented and it made your heart flutter for a moment to know that he liked it. No, you reminded yourself, you shouldn’t swoon over Thranduil – a widowed father – liking your little dress. 

“It was expensive too…” You mumbled, “I don’t usually buy expensive clothes but this was just so pretty, I couldn’t put it back on the rack and I was skint for ages after buying it but I never really treat myself to stuff like this.” You sniffled as you did your utmost to stop your tears from spilling down your cheeks but you tasted defeat in their salt as they ran down to your chin and the corners of your mouth. Thranduil kneeled down in front of you and cupped your face in his hands, shushing you while affectionately swiping at your tears with his thumbs. You couldn’t help but melt into his touch and turn your face into his palm. He smelled like aftersun and some warm spice you couldn’t quite put a name to. Your lips just barely grazed against his hand and you fought the urge to press them to his skin over and over, settling for trying to steady your breathing instead.

While you were in turmoil, Thranduil was in his own. Here you were, such a sweet and beautiful little thing in tears with your lips against his skin as he knelt in front of where you were perched on the bed. If he could, he’d quell your tears with kisses and throw you back onto the bed and give you a reason to forget the ruined dress that you seemed to have treasured so much. But you were so much younger than him and should he make any sort of advance and you rejected it, everyone he was on this holiday with would be out for his blood. Your parents and brother would kill him and he was more than sure that his son wouldn’t like to find that he had tried to pursue a woman a year younger than him, his best friend’s little sister no less. 

One of his hands on your face dropped to your knee, a safe enough place he thought: it could seem like he was keeping his balance while kneeling and it was not too far up your leg to be considered provocative. His thumb swiped once against your knee in the same way it had done beneath your eyes and he didn’t miss the way your thighs pressed together slightly. Arousal or recoil? He wasn’t sure and so he rose to his feet and withdrew from you entirely before he could possibly make you uncomfortable. 

“Why don’t you get changed, hm?” He offered, “I’m sure that’s not comfortable to be in.” You nodded your head and got up to get changed in the privacy of the bathroom, pausing on the threshold of the door to announce that you would likely take a shower to wash off the stickiness from the juice. However, once you had stripped off your precious dress and started running the water, you realised that you had forgotten your hairbrush and so you wrapped yourself in a towel before going back into the room to grab it, finding Thranduil had been gazing out of the glass doors to the balcony before turning around to spot you. You suddenly felt very vulnerable and bare in just your towel and even Thranduil seemed surprised that you had left the bathroom in such a state of undress. 

“Forgot my hairbrush…” You murmured, realising it might have even been better to put the stained dress back on just to grab it.

“I’ll see what I can do about your dress.” He replied and walked past you as you began to quickly brush out your hair. You could hear the tap run in the bathroom and when you had set the brush back down again, you stood awkwardly in the bathroom doorway as you watched Thranduil soak your dress in hot water to try and lift the stain before it could truly steele into the fabric. 

“I really appreciate the help but I’d like to be able to…” You trailed off, almost feeling as though you were rejecting his generous help, just desperate for the hot water of the shower to wash away some of your sadness at having your dress near ruined. 

“I won’t look.” He simply replied, turning his body at a slight angle so that he could continue working your dress in the sink while his back faced the shower. You were sure he wouldn’t be able to see you in the mirror, given the angle, and so you simply agreed with a quiet ‘alright then’ seeing as he had already turned around. You trusted Thranduil. The towel was set on the rack before you were under the steaming water, letting out a content sigh at the high temperature, beginning to wash your hair and then wash the stickiness of the orange juice from your skin. As you lathered your body in vanilla and honey scented bubbles, you couldn’t help but fantasise about the gorgeous man who stood no less than three metres from your naked form. He could so easily betray the trust you had placed in him, could gaze upon your exposed body, use the sight to spark lust. A part of you yearned for him to initiate something, to give you an excuse to just give into your desires if they were to be presented before you in such a ripe opportunity. Would he dare? You didn’t know how to provoke or seduce a man and so you found yourself improvising, against your better judgement. He was just so stunning and in fantasising about him, you had worked yourself up. You moaned at the feeling of the heated water against your skin, of the delectable scent of the soap on your body. You found yourself cupping your breasts in your hands as you rinsed yourself. Yet, Thranduil took no notice of you. 

At least: he showed no signs of taking notice. His bright blue eyes were already stealing glimpses at you in the mirror, unable to see much due to the angle that he was standing at, fighting his impulses in an attempt to continue working at your dress as you showered behind him. 

“Hey…” He heard your voice call out softly, “Do you think you could pass me the exfoliant on the counter? The beige tub with the white lid.” You asked and he found that his teeth were grinding slightly with how hard he had clenched his jaw. He found the item in question and stepped backwards, extending his arm backwards too in order to hand it to you. 

“There you go.” He spoke, his voice slightly quieter but neutral, cleverly balanced out as to not betray a word of what was going on inside his head. 

“Thank you.” Your voice had softened, was slightly airy as you took the tub from his waiting palm, your fingertips gliding against his wrist and down over his palm, your fingers almost wrapping around his as you savoured the small skin-on-skin contact. You might have been under the impression that the gesture would seem innocent enough, fumbling or clumsy even, but Thranduil knew much more than you, it came with his age. 

“Do you know what you’re doing?” His voice cut through the silence that was beginning to grow thick like the steam in the room. 

“I-I’m sorry?” You stammered out, face instantly flushing at having been caught. Thranduil looked just slightly over his shoulder, his eye meeting yours from the very corner and wandering nowhere else on your exposed body. In your eyes he saw your naivete and yet he also saw a mix of fear and embarrassment at having been caught. You had been teasing him intentionally and the look on your face was all he needed to confirm such. 

“Get out of the shower, Y/n.” His tone was quiet and yet no less authoritative than the voice you had heard him speak with over business calls. You swallowed hard and turned off the water, now feeling much more bashful and attempting to cover your bare chest with your arms. Thranduil took down the towel from the rack, warm, and wrapped it around your body, hands squeezing your shoulders momentarily before you gasped when his hands landed on your waist and hoisted you onto the counter. His hands gently patted you down, keeping you covered with the towel and you watched him do so with bated breath. 

His fingers skimmed over your thighs, just above your knees where your towel didn’t cover them and he let out a soft sigh, pale blue eyes roving up to meet your gaze. 

“Do you want this?” He asked and you swallowed hard. He didn’t need to elaborate on what it was he was offering. You nodded your head, eyes stealing a glance down to his lips. “I need to hear you say it, sweetheart.” 

“I want this…” Your voice was airy with a sense of excitement and anxiousness. His fingers trailed up your body until they were beneath your chin, tilting your head upwards and leaning in oh-so-slowly with lidded eyes, providing you with ample time to pull away should you realise that you did not want this. However, your hands came to rest on his shoulders, fingers skimming against his neck as your lips collided. He felt you shudder against him as you arched your back and leaned into him, your body silently pleading for more contact as your fingers slid upwards and into his hair. You couldn’t help but let out a soft moan at discovering it felt just as soft as it looked. Thranduil’s hand under your chin slid to cup your cheek and his other hand slid down to squeeze at your hip. The kiss grew more heated and you felt light-headed as you tried to keep up with Thranduil’s pace, relieved when his lips began to trail down your neck, drawing soft sighs and moans from your lips that he fully intended on leaving kiss-swollen when he was done with you. 

“Have you done anything like this before?” His voice had dropped as he hummed out the question against your pulse. 

“I have…” You replied quietly and Thranduil seemed slightly surprised. Truthfully, he had been unsure but a part of him was almost so sure that you were a virgin. “He… put me off, I suppose. It ended up being a one-time thing.” Your face flooded with heat and you couldn’t meet Thranduil’s eyes as he looked at you thoughtfully. 

“A boy your age?” He was met with a nod. 

“He was… selfish, I suppose is the word for it.” You heard the man before you tut as his arms wrapped around you and his lips languidly peppered kisses from your temple, across the softness of your cheek and to your lips. 

“I’m going to assume it was over before it could even begin for you and he left you unsatisfied.” He punctuated his prediction with a slow kiss to your mouth, nibbling your bottom lip. 

“Yeah…” You breathed out as you felt him push your thighs apart so that he could slot himself between your legs and pull you even closer. 

“Would you like me to show you real pleasure then, y/n? Pleasure given from a man who knows a woman’s body?” He was met with an eager nod. 

“Yes please…” Oh, how well-mannered and adorable you were. He couldn’t resist crashing his lips onto yours once more and you felt him untuck your towel as he kissed you dizzy. You gasped when his hands cupped your breasts and he pulled away from your lips. 

“Is this ok?” You eagerly nodded your head and your hands gripped the collar of his shirt to pull him back into the kiss, thighs squeezing your hips as you yearned to keep the closeness between you two. He smiled at your eagerness and relished in all the little moans you let out as he palmed your soft flesh and began to tweak your nipples between his fingers, testing how much you could take before letting out a little yelp into his mouth, allowing him to slip his tongue inside and to coax you into a deeper kiss. Once more, his lips trailed down your neck and then even further down to the top of your left breast, pausing along the way to nip at your collarbone. His tongue poked out to lap at your damp skin before encasing one of your hardened buds in the warmth of his mouth and sucking down gently, earning a drawn-out moan from your throat while his hand paid attention to your other breast, assuring that it was not neglected. 

He could gather from your reactions that this was not something you had experienced before and he couldn’t help but think on how undeserving that body must have been to have had such a pretty, responsive girl in his grasp and to still ignore her needs entirely. 

“Thranduil…” You whimpered out his name when he switched breasts and you could feel him groan against your sensitive skin before he wrapped his hands under your thighs and hoisted you upwards, making you gasp and steady yourself with your hands on his shoulders. He carried you out of the bathroom and sat down on the bed with you in his lap, not wanting to potentially overwhelm you by putting you under him just yet. His fingers skimmed up your bare back and then went down to your hips, holding them firmly and lightly coaxing you to grind down on him as you were now straddling his lap. You could feel him gently roll his hips against you, creating such sweet friction. You buried your face against his shoulder to muffle the sounds of how good he was making you feel. 

“I bet he didn’t focus on you at all, did he, y/n?” Thranduil’s voice cooed in your ear, dripping with a tone that just reminded you how naive you were than him in this. You simply clutched onto his shirt and shook your head, puffing out a content sigh as your clit caught against the material of his trousers. “I bet he didn’t even know how.” He continued, a hand reaching upwards to carefully stroke through your wet hair. “Would you like me to show you?” 

“Yes please.” You murmured once more, face leaving the crook of his neck to tentatively kiss the corner of his mouth. 

“Alright…” And he shifted you around so that you were laid back on the bed with your head against the pillows, his body hovering over yours, “But I have just one request for you, to make us both feel good, hm?” He suggested, fingers trailing up and down your side, tickling you slightly and causing goosebumps to erupt across your skin. You nodded your head for him to continue, feeling his palms on your thighs, parting them slightly. “I’m older than you… more experienced… I want to take such good care of you…” He continued, leaning down to kiss you so tenderly, as though you were cracked glass or thin ice that was ready to shatter at the slightest pressure. “Why don’t you call me daddy, hm?” 

“I…” You bit on your lip. You were aware of daddy kinks, sure, but were you into it? You had never put much thought to it. 

“It’s alright if you don’t want to…” He said softly, hands roaming your body up and down as though trying to memorise the shape of you. 

“No, it’s not that, I just… I don’t know if I’m into it, I suppose? I’ve never really thought about it.” You shivered slightly when his fingers skimmed between your hips, across your abdomen in a way that was pleasurable but also rather ticklish, watching as his eyes flicked up to meet yours in order to assess your reaction. 

“How about this then:” He proposed, “I’ll tell you when to moan for me and we’ll see if you like it then, while I’m making you feel good, hm?” You thought over his suggestion for a moment before nodding your head, watching as he smiled before pressing a kiss to your navel. “Good girl.” He praised, “Spread your legs further for me.” You did as told and he kissed a trail down your skin until his hot breath was fanning against your pussy, finding you glistening with need already, dripping from your slit. “I’m going to use my mouth on you now, is that alright?” His lips pressed to your inner thighs in the meantime. 

“Yes, it’s alright…” You mumbled out, bringing a hand up to press to your mouth in anticipation, your breath hitching and your fingers muffling a long moan when his tongue delved straight into your slit and pushed all the way up to your clit that he began to kiss and suck with such devotion. Your head fell back against the pillows and the hand against your mouth fell beside your head, gripping the plush fabric beneath it as Thranduil hoisted your thighs up on his shoulders and began dipping his tongue in and out of your walls. He kissed his way back up your slit before pausing, exhaling over you and drowning in the scent of your arousal.

“Moan for me now.” He commanded just before sucking down harshly on your clit the moment you opened your mouth. 

“Da-addy~” Your voice broke and your hands shot down to tangle in his pale hair at the unexpected pleasure as you felt your thighs tense up and the beginnings of an orgasm rush over your limbs before crashing to your core where Thranduil held your hips down as he eased you through it, the first orgasm you had ever been given by another. He kissed your clit one final time, almost a farewell, before rising back up, chin glistening with your slick. 

“There…” His thumb caressed your cheek and he watched how your body slightly trembled, “Did you enjoy it in the end?” There was a tone of amusement in his voice that told you he already knew the answer. 

“Yes…” You breathed out. 

“Yes, who?” He hummed and you let out a low whine. 

“Yes, daddy.” You were rewarded with a kiss where you could taste yourself and you were much too aroused to have any disgust towards such a thing. 

“Normally, I’d spend a lot more time on such a pretty thing like you, sweetheart…” He said, “But I don’t want to give you more than you can handle.” You moaned once more when his fingers prodded at your entrance, slipping one inside experimentally before quickly adding another. He stroked over that sweet spot inside you that had you whimpering beneath him, moaning out broken little phrases of ‘yes’ ‘please, daddy’ ‘more’ ‘just like that, daddy’ ‘please’ ‘so good’. Each one had him feeling much too hot and constricted in his clothes as he slowly fingered you, scissoring his fingers apart to feel how your walls had to stretch around them, trying to prepare you for the size of his cock. Eventually, he withdrew his fingers from your squelching hole and got to impatiently stripping off his shirt, rising to remove the rest of his clothing before he was practically diving on top of you once again, cock in his hand. You watched as he stroked himself in front of you, pressing the flushed and weeping head of his cock against the heat of your soaked slit. He reached for your legs and you let out a small grunt as he pushed them upwards, almost pressed to your chest. 

“Hold them there for daddy…” He watched in adoration of your obedience as you immediately complied, “Such a good girl…” He resumed stroking his cock before lining it up to your entrance, sliding the tip of his cock up and down slightly over your entrance before pushing in deep. Arousal pooled within him at the yelped moan you let out and his hands squeezed your hips for a moment before he pushed the rest of the way in, revelling in the way you whined at the stretch of his cock in your tight walls. “Fuck, I know you’re going to take me so well…” Your cunt clenched around him at hearing him curse like that. You had never heard Thranduil curse, he always seemed much too refined for it and yet here that eloquence was, bleeding out of him all because of how inviting your pussy felt squeezing and fluttering around his cock. He couldn’t risk making a mess here in the hotel room that your family would return to later on in the night so he planned on making this part quick. He could always pamper you a bit and bring you back to his own room after. 

A surge of pride filled him when his slow and harsh pace, each thrust kissing the deepest parts of you, had you quickly babbling at how good his cock felt inside of you. You had previously been unsure of how you felt about calling him daddy and yet here you were wantonly moaning it like it was the only word you knew. 

“This is exactly what you’ve been missing out on, isn’t it?” He asked, leaning down by you so that he could press your legs even more, folding you into a mating press as his thrusts began to drill down into you, the head of his cock bittersweetly bullying your cervix with each thrust. “Having an older man who knows exactly what you need… an older man who knows your sweet- fuck- young body in ways that boys your age don’t.” His dirty talk had your nails raking down your back and high pitched moans squeezing from your throat, “That’s why you didn’t turn me down like all the other boys who you knew just wanted to use you.” He let out a guttural moan by your ear that almost turned into a whine when the sound made your body clench further down him. “Do you want to come again, y/n?” You quickly nodded your head, scrunching your eyes for a moment to try and quell the tears that were building in them. “Then ask for it, ask your daddy if he’ll make you come.” 

“Daddy, please, please, can I come?” You pleaded. “Make me come again, please?” 

“Oh, well, seeing as you asked so nicely.” You cried out when his thumb began to draw circles on your throbbing clit and you buried your face in his neck as your nails curled into his skin, muffling your sob as your thighs wrapped around him, tiny cunt spasming around his thick cock. Just as quickly as you had tensed up, you went limp and Thranduil used the opportunity to pry your legs from him and kneel over your body, stroking his cock with lewd noises made by your slick as he spilled his hot cum over your bare chest, making him moan at the sight. He laid down beside you and watched as you panted for breath. 

Thranduil propped himself up on an elbow to lean over you, tenderly pushing wet hair away from your face and kissing from your temple, down your cheek, to the corner of your jaw. “You did so well, sweetheart…” He praised, “I’m so proud of you.” He punctuated his words with a kiss yet watched on as you still panted for breath, not yet down from your high. “Come,” He cupped your face to gently turn your head to face him, pressing his forehead to yours, “breathe with me now…” And he began to take in deep breaths, hold them and slowly let them out until your body had calmed right down and you turned onto your side and buried your face in his chest, caring very little about how his hair was tickling your face. 

“I feel much happier now.” You laughed slightly, making him laugh too as he reflected on how you had been sobbing over your dress earlier. 

“I’m glad to hear it.” He kissed the top of your head and smoothed your hair back affectionately. “I… I would much prefer this be kept a secret- '' He began, “-not because I only used you, no, I wouldn’t do that to you, but because I don't think our families would be all too happy. If you want to tell anyone what’s happened between the two of us, I understand but if we want to do this again, it might be best if we… see where things go before we tell anyone. This is just my suggestion but I leave the final decision down to you. I won’t tell you what to do.” You hummed and began to trace idle patterns on his skin with your fingertips. 

“You would… do this again with me?” You highlighted. 

“More times than you could possibly count, my sweet.” He replied with a slight laugh. 

“I… would like to keep this between us while I see how things go then.” 

“Very well…” He kissed the top of your head once more, “Let’s stay like this for a while then we can have a shower together, how does that sound?”

“Wonderful…” You hummed. 

☾ ⋆ﾟ  MASTERLIST / RULES / TAGLIST FORM

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[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

do you have any advice for writing long fics/series??? I have so many I've been wanting to write but the last times I've tried I always lost motivation, so now I'm scared to try 😭

Ohhh, been there. Okay, so I've done it two different ways, and odds are high that you've only tried one, so maybe whichever you haven't done before, do the other?

Method 1: Write it all, then post one chapter at a time only once complete. That's how I wrote my early multi-chapter series. I was so worried I'd get bored or stuck and bail before I did what I wanted to do, I made sure all of my chapters were written before I posted anything. If you're addicted to the serotonin of feedback, that's fine, find a writing buddy who will read your WIP so you're still getting some of that spark along the way, but don't put up anything public until you're all done and ready to rock and roll.

Side note: This is also a pretty good way to build a bit of a following on AO3. If you promise people up front that everything IS done and written and it WILL finish and you give them a regular posting schedule—a chapter every Tuesday or whatever—they'll subscribe and happily follow along because there's no risk. Short of you getting hit by a bus or something, I guess.

Method 2: If, however, you've tried the above and that's where you're getting stuck, do the opposite. Maybe sketch out some rough notes to yourself on where you want to end up with the fic, just so you know you're heading in the right direction, but then let go of the need for control a little and post as you go along. That's what I had to do for my two biggest fics because they took literal years. Actual literal years, plural. The fear of leaving things dangling might be more motivating than you realize.

Some things to remember:

It's okay to start small. Like, it's tempting to dive right into a mega-sprawling epic of a fic with 100 chapters or whatever, but it's also okay to... not... do that. Try a fic with a few chapters instead. Build that muscle. Get used to writing beyond oneshots. Pre-built structures like 5+1 might help you build that muscle as well.

Sometimes you just gotta... do it. Like, that sucks, I know, it would be nice if there were an easy trick, believe me. Like, the fic I am procrastinating on is not a long one, but it's kicking my butt and it's so frustrating. But I'm getting it done a literal line at a time—for every ask I answer, I make myself hop over into my doc and write another line. Some nights I'm literally messaging Audrey like "I just want to get one sentence done before bed." And I stack one sentence after another until it's done.

It's okay to procrastinate a little. Emphasis on little. It sounds like you get stuck, procrastinate some, then don't stop procrastinating, but it's okay to give yourself a little break. My two biggest fics spawned so many other fics because I would hop from the chapter I would be working on to my distraction fic... until I needed to be distracted from that fic and then my chapter was the distraction!

It's also okay to combine the above methods. For Nature and Nurture, my first big fic, I used Method 2 allllll the way up to, like, the last three chapters or so. I was so scared of fumbling it all at the end that I switched to Method 1 for the last chunk, made myself write it ALL, and didn't post anything else until it was all written.

You can do it!!

[where-are-the-spooky-gays-2]

I have so many ideas for the incubus seraphim thing but I'm gonna format it as a sorta .. I'd say a oneshots sort of thing? Not like a "every single day" fic. Y'know? Just some glimpses into their lives because c!Thomas is a stubborn shithead who weirdly does not take off his jewelry.

That means I can skip ahead a little in their relationship and make them have conversations and experiences 😈

... What if I made Virgil tempt Remus into a kiss?

In this essay—

- 👑

👑 Anon I N E E D the essay W H E R E is it??? /light hearted /joking No but in all seriousness a oneshots timeskip kind of thing is a really good idea cause it lets you have their relationship develop more as well as not making it a too long of a series to write

[takami-takami]

have u ever thought about writing a long fic? i love everything u write, a longer fic from u would be like heaven

A longer fic like a multichapter one? Or like one of those 2k-4k word fics?

For multichapter ones, I've thought about it but I'd have to pick a topic that I wanna write for the long haul and I can't think of any. :( But I see those like 50 chapter fics, like the slowburn ones and I get sooooo jealous and tempted because I want to write one so bad!!

As for slightly longer oneshots, I have two in my drafts (one I will be scrapping for good cuz I hate it lol). And the Hawks cucking Dabi one I've been talking about should be ~2.5–3k words by the time it's done? More or less?

I tend to not be able to finish longer ones for some reason, also because I write pretty slowly regardless. :(

[darthkvznblogs]

Ngl, the Kverse has been stale for a bit. Few people know anything about the franchises you've added through the Vantage oneshots, and none of the popular fics have been updated in months. The main one hasn't been touched in half a year. I'm sure you've noticed that your tumblr gets much, much less traction these days. The quality of the whole project has gone down, and it's because you're spreading yourself too thin. All the best, but a lot of us are starting to lose interest

This reads super condescending, so I was tempted to just say "thanks for reading, sorry you're leaving, but I ain't changing a thing" and move on with my day, but alright, I have my morning coffee and it's a light day at work, so I have a bit of time to expand on that.

I don't write the series for you. Of course, I really appreciate that it's gotten a following, and entertaining people makes me very happy, but what I write, I write for myself, and if people care to read it, that's a bonus. I had the exact same philosophy when I could count my readers on one hand, and I'd write the same way if I got millions of views. If every single one of my readers dropped the series today, I'd be sad, sure, but I still wouldn't change how I do things.

If my aim was to be popular, I wouldn't be writing niche crossovers, trust me. You'd think maybe adding a franchise could only open up the potential audience of people willing to give your crossover a shot, but it's almost always the opposite - you're instead turning away people, some who were readers and don't like the new additions, or others who could've been readers but don't care to read a crossover with what was written before. That's just something you have to accept going in when writing stuff like this, and I'm very much used to it.

I'll remind you: I don't get paid for this. I get nothing from writing the series other than the satisfaction of writing something I enjoy. I have to balance my actual full-time job, a barely existent social life, and what little free time I have against the games I wanna play, the shows I wanna watch, the books I wanna read, and of course, my work on the series, which entails a bunch of research, hours upon hours working out the mess into a semi-coherent shared universe, and of course, the actual writing process. I can't write faster than I do. I've always written slowly, you just got more updates from me before because I was unemployed and had all the free time in the world. Unless some modern-day patron of the arts pays me the big bucks to leave my job and do this thing full-time, this is how it's gonna be for the foreseeable future - and if you or anyone else reading it can't or won't commit to waiting that long, that's okay.

I'm glad you found some enjoyment in the series, I thank you for reading, and I hope one day you decide to catch up (with what little I may have updated :P), but I'm not gonna beg anyone to stick around. There's so many talented writers out there that deserve you giving them a chance, and I'm definitely not the only one doing a big universe fusion, so I have no doubt you'll find a good substitute.

Regardless, as long as I have more stories to tell (and I have many), the Kryptonverse will continue on.

[highdefinitions]

2022 Writer’s Tag.

I think it might be fun to look back on what we’ve all achieved this year, let you give yourselves a well deserved pat on the back and also share what you love. When you’re done maybe tag someone else so they can share too?

1. How do you feel 2022 has gone in terms of writing?

i am so excited with how 2022 had gone in terms of my writing. felt like i improved a lot and was really glad to have gotten back into it!!

2. What piece are you proudest of this year? It can be a shot/blurb/headcannon, a whole series or even a specific chapter.

you already know what i'm going to say...the dead don't die is by far my favorite...i do however hold a special place in my heart for closest to heaven i love iris and josh and YOU SHOULD TOO

3. Is there anything you posted that you wish had reached more people? (No such thing as a flop here!) Shout it out, it might catch a new pair of eyes!

oh 100% closest to heaven!! i felt like some of my best writing was put into that fic and i still do. i know it's long but it's cutie and you can read it here !

4. Can you give us a hint of anything coming before the end of the year? Maybe even a little taster?

i KNOW you're all on the edge of your seats for the Next Big Percy Project ! god i love being sarcastic ! you know what i also love being? cryptic ! no but for real, some of you already know, i've hinted at a new series coming...soon-ish(?)

5. Are you setting any writing goals for next year, or just going with the flow? If you are, what are they?

i try not to set too many goals for myself. oh my god that sounds terrible. no i just mean like...i don't want to say that i'm going to do something and then not do it...if that makes more sense. i definitely want to finish the dead don't die (if i don't finish it this year which is unlikely), and i want to work loads on the next series project and get back into the groove of writing that again since i started it before picking up the dead don't die!! also potentially another series if i finish this next one? who knows. hopefully i can squeeze in some time to write some more oneshot stuff or even expand on the sparrowverse. i have lots of ideas of ideas to do, but right now it's hard to set anything in stone :)

6. Do you have any one shots or finished pieces you’re tempted to expand on or revisit next year?

uhm really the only pieces that i would continue to expand on is the sparrowverse. hopefully maybe eventually i'll get danny's addition to the story... i don't think i'd add to the dead don't die once it's done i think that one is going to be finished when it's done

7. Is there anything new you’re tempted to try out? A new style/trope/AU/another person in the fandom?

i do not know...maybe inspiration will strike me for some danny fics...as for aus i'll probably delve into another one i won't lie to you i am not at all immune to them

8. Now to hype some other writers! What’s a piece you read back in the first half of the year that you can shout out?

oh i'm terrible at reading and remembering things...uhhhhh YOU'RE ASKING FOR HALF A YEAR AGO UHH I STARTED THIS SHIT IN APRIL UHH

like friends do by my bff @gretagolden <3

and of course like the first fic i ever read lazarus by @garbagevanfleet

9. And how about something you’ve read more recently?

i feel awful. i haven’t been too good at reading this recent because i’m a LOSER and school sucks a little bit. but summer in the city by @gretasmokerising was so fantastic!!

10. A fun one to finish...If you could insert yourself into any fic in the fandom, which would it be and what do you think would happen?

hmmm i’m not sure really!! maybe any cabin fever fic universe by @hearts-hunger !! anything maddie writes is so sweet i could die

I was tagged by the ever lovely @writingcold and I am tagging @gretasmokerising (or really anyone that wants to do it!!!)

[starlit-bawka]

20 Questions For Fanfic Writers!

No way I got tagged by the really awesome @h4mm132l1c3, and ill tag a couple of other people too probably

1: How many works do you have on Ao3?

Currently I've got 59 things on AO3!! There are a couple more on my long-defunct wattpad though, and I've got a bunch of December whump I need to catch up on too so there will be more

2: What's your total Ao3 word count?

72,774!! Wow!!! And like...90% of that is oneshots! Go me!

3: What fandoms do you write for?

Currently writing for DSMP and QSMP the most atm :O I also write for the PJO fandom, Homestuck, and DR on occasion, too. I get very tempted to write for Stardew Valley and Scott Pilgrim, and I have been. More than tempted to write CareBears stuff too. I'm in deep chat

4: Top five fics by kudos?

(Un)Lifetime Achievement Award, Take Your Secret Son to Work Day, Las Nevadas and the Frozen Fox, Alone I Began, and Of Lost Gods!

5: Do you respond to comments? Why/Why not?

For the most part yeah! I don't get too too much interaction and I just get!! So excited when I get comments! I love seeing what people say and I love to respond! But sometimes I don't, often cause I don't know what to say lol

6: What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

hmmm,,,good question! Probably Why Do I Cry? or maybe Famous Last Words? Gone are the Joys I Knew? I don't really know! I write a lot of sort of mopey sad fics ig LMAO

7: What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

mmmmmmm,,,,not sure for this, either! My Fundy Fluff Week stuff is all supposed to be sorta fluffy which is probably happy

8: Do you get hate on fics?

Not hate, per say, but comments on the accuracy of my characters, which kinda stabbed my ego a bit lol. It was a nice comment! But the way it was worded was so ouchie!

9: Do you write smut?

I've. Been tempted. As of right now I haven't, though!

10: Do you write crossovers?

Another one of me being tempted!! I haven't yet but I LOOOOVE to read them and so I'd love to write one sometime. (We aren't counting my old VLD Steven Universe au.)

11: Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so! Fingers crossed it hasn't happened lol I doubt it would

12: Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope! But if someone were to want to, I would say go ahead! Just send it to me so I can see :D sounds so cool!

13: Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Very recently was my first time doing a proper co-write/collab, which I did with my lovely friend Seven! I would love to do more they're so fun (and probably one of the only ways I'll easily end up writing a multichap KEKW)

14: What's your all-time favorite ship?

ouuuuu ive got a lot of pairings I really really cherish. Jercy my beloved, uhhh Valgrace is so silly, I like to consider myself one of The Kamuegi writers ever, and Pumpkinduo kind of holds an insanely special place in my heart

15: What's the WIP you hope to finish but doubt you ever will?

(Un)Lifetime Achievement Award as sad as it sounds. I love it so much and I'm so insanely proud of it and I love the story but there's soooo much planned and the person I was planning it with hasn't spoken to me in a while. I have hope that I'll finish it someday! Or at least get another two chapters out!

16: What are your writing strengths?

Uhhhhhhh,,,,I don't. actually know! I do a lot of flowery sentences ig? and I think I'm pretty good at angst and similar things

17: What are your writing weaknesses?

Making (and completing) multichap fics, getting ideas to write, finding the motivation to write, and I am definitely bad at planning things out in advance

18: Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I've done it pretty sparingly in the past, because I want to incorporate other languages and loooove language, but don't know any of them very well aside from English. But I try to do a lot of research before I add something in, and am 100% open and insistent that someone correct me if I messed up, or if there's another way to go about saying what I'm trying to say, or just to tell me more!

19: First fandom you wrote for?

Never published because I was a kid and it was. So Bad but !!! It was actually for the Minecraft Roleplay series Mary and Dad's Minecraft Adventure (MADMA) back around 2011-2013. I've been in mcrp hell for. a LONG time jesus christ

20: Favorite fic you've ever written?

ohhhh good question. Fullbury Records is very special to me and I'm ALWAYS thinking of what to add to that series, and (Un)Lifetime Achievement Award ofc is also very special to me. I think Heart to Heart is going places once I get back to writing the next chapter, too But I'm also veeeerrry proud of Famous Last Words, and it's very special to me as a projection piece LMAO

Tag time!!

@dyke420-69 @sparrowsong07 and anyone else who sees this and wants to do it lolol be sure to tag me so I can see :D

[leopardmask-ao3]

for the ask game! 1, 7, 17, 26, & 54?

the ask game

1 - Do you prefer writing one-shots or multi-chaptered fics? Honestly it depends on when you ask. Sometimes a one-shot will grow chapters if it gets too long, and lately I've definitely been leaning more toward chaptered stuff. But it's nice to have oneshot ideas here and there still too! They're like snack breaks in between the big things.

7 - How do you choose which POV to write from? Often if there is a choice to be made, the decision comes from either who has the most going on right now, or who knows what. And that doesn't always mean "who knows the most about what's going on" - it's just as likely "who has the most suspenseful/interesting gaps in their knowledge". Like a lot of my writing decisions, it's usually made by feel.

17 - What do you do when writing becomes difficult? (maybe a lack of inspiration or writer's block) Funnily enough, I feel like I'm kind of in one of those periods right now. Often I just. don't write for a while. Or I start writing something else and see if that helps. I've kind of been yearning for a writing challenge/prompt challenge thing to show up lately to give me some starting points.

26 - Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride? Oh, man! It's tempting to answer one of my chaptered fics, but I remember describing Security Breach that way when I wrote it; it has a lot of major emotional ups and downs in fairly short spans of time, including no less than three rapid-fire instances of characters thinking other characters are dead.

54 - What’s your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process? Hmm... I think I'd have to say the imagining of it! One reason I write is to show off what's in my head, and going over it in my head, figuring out the coolest way for things to go, bouncing ideas off friends to see the initial reaction and find what direction it needs... that's my favorite part of writing.

[romeulusroy]

Vulcan (Arthur Shelby Oneshot) Pt. 2/12

Character/s: Arthur

Word Count: 1,145

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @myriadimagines @lilyswritings @encounterthepast @writerdream22 @death-of-a-mermaid @woahitslucyylu @obsessedunicorn24 @thedarkqueenofavalon @fangirlsarah16 @captivatedbycillianmurphy @theshelbyclan @creativemayhems @soleil-dor @thegirlwithoutaname87 @babylooneytoonz @peakyxtommy @locke-writes

A/N: Hello I'm a liar I stayed up v late to write this and I'm too impulsive and impatient not to post it asap!!! I hope this one is as good as the first!!! And makes you want to read more!!! Again this is my first BIG series which is kinda scary considering there was a time I thought I'd never be able to write more than 500 words! Look at me now :D Anyways, be sure to check out part one my loves and I just really hope you like it!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💖💜

Gif Credit: @peakycillianblinders :)

FIC MASTERLIST PART ONE. / PART TWO. / PART THREE.

WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST?

ROMAN GODS SERIES: Jupiter /Juno / Mars / Vulcan / Mercury / Minerva / Neptune / Venus / Pluto / Janus / Caelus / Apollo

You are no more human than himself.

Nothing, though, more human than mans own emotions. The very things that beat and pound against the cage of his ribs, breaking every bone, tearing through himself in an effort to conceal until he is nothing but ruins himself, until there is no fight left. The very things that rule him. Control and berate his spirits better than any blood could. It's not their words spoken behind closed doors, or the distance they put between themselves, but their expressions. The pity. The disgust. The horror. As if he is less, as if he were mortal. Atop their pedestals they are in power, in control, their true selves hidden behind masks. He lives truthful, exposed, waiting for infection. Begging for it. Few can understand, fewer sympathize, but from the moment you looked at him, watched the lines in his forehead crease, his mouth fall, his entire outward being change, you knew. How could Gods possibly live among their people and not pick up a few habits? Not just the things they mirrored with ease. Joy, sadness, even anger became second nature. He was burdened with more, with complications. Anger became fury, rage, bitterness, even destruction.

They were scared not because they could not understand what it felt to hurt so deeply, to bleed to freely, but because pride lived in him where they felt nothing but shame. Shame for screaming, crying, sobbing. For finding their knees weak, breakable, their spirits broken, their worlds shattering before their eyes. Shame for falling, shattering, letting themselves be weak, vulnerable, human. He was not. Openly, he let these things seep through his words, his actions, carrying it on his back when there was no where else to put it, never daring to put up a front of invulnerability. Gods could be fragile, too.

And just as they could be fragile, they were dangerous.

Not once would he let you forget that.

You never saw it. Not when it was happening. When his arms grew tired, when his back ached, when his eyes saw red. The myths, the stories, the thing of nightmares. Horrifying. Truly horrifying. In his prime, nothing left unharmed, untouched. Pushed to the edge, he didn't just fall, he put on a goddamn show. Sometimes you wished to watch, see for yourself what it was that made others shake, what made them leave everything they had in his name, praying for joy. Sometimes you decided it was better to leave it up to your imagination. You were there after though, ordered to clean up, collect his pieces, hold him together until someone more familiar put him back together again. He trusted you, for what reason you still questioned. Let you get close enough to hush his own unrecognizable sobs, plucking the gun, knife, pipe from his weak hand, wipe the red from his cheek. Still wet. It wasn't a fall from grace, not exactly, but a taste, a glimpse of how fragile ones world really was when immortals lost their grip. Just as they could play nice, offer riches, they could leave nothing but ash in their wake.

Little fires everywhere.

The ruins were magnificent. Shocking, and amazing. Homes unrecognizable. Bodies shredded, anonymous now, without worth. The grass and trees blackened, smoking even as the sun rose, welcoming a new day. You never could get used to the smell of burning flesh, the stinging in your lungs enough to bring tears to your eyes. The clouds grey, moody, as far as you could see. A reminder, as if the unsettled silence weren't enough. All that's left is the quiet cry of the crackling fire, weaker and weaker with every passing second. He could not bear to look. A man gone blind in his rage. You'd seen it enough with the mortals to know. Humans had a funny way of wanting to protect themselves, their psyche, even at their most destructive. Funny, and odd. He possessed these same traits. Weakened by what he's done, exhausted, there is not another threat of this for a long time. But when it comes, because it always does, he'll scorch the new earth, this new life, without hesitation.

Sometimes, it's not an outward cry, but inward. A gun to his head, the metal kissing his temple goodnight. The rope around his neck, soft against his skin. The booze sweet, tempting, making his steps light and careless. Someone is there before it's too late, before there is no God left, easing him off the ledge the way they think they'll always have to. This you do not see. You do not hear. This is kept among gods, another secret they are sworn to, another thing they can use against one another. But you know, as you would. And again, you understand. Stitched across his features. A crime not yet committed. In due time, he promises, without a single word, and you believe him. Succumbed to his emotions. He does not berate them, or belittle, but joins them, knowing, despite how much it hurts, how beautiful they really can be.

Something none of them could begin to understand.

All of this is worth the euphoria, the tears of joy, walking the thin line between elation and madness, even if it only lasts one second.

Lower on the ranks, the impoverished class, fresh blood, sent to do the work no one else wanted because you had no other choice. Unlike the rest, he was eager to join, to help, anything to rid himself of his own guilt, gain back the respect he's lost. A glance is all you share. That of secrecy. Those moments, where he is shattered, the source of so much heartache, kept between you. Not out of personal gain, for leverage, but because you, too, have found yourself the cause, not the affect. The rest underestimate, overlooking, never meeting your eyes, but he is careful. He doesn't know, none do, but he is one of few who see man and God all the same. Strengths and weaknesses. Pain and suffering. Love and war. A multitude of pieces, each worthy in their own right of respect, of understanding and patience. One is not only their mistakes, their faults, all the things that keep them awake at night, just as they are not only their vigor, their vitality, all the battles they've won. They are all of them, and more, things he cannot even see, nor begin to comprehend. So, he looks you in the eye, as he does the others, regardless of who they take orders from.

As long as he's concerned, with that cap, you're one of them. The rest of the family, they differentiate, they seclude, they draw a line right down the middle. Us and them. Worthy and unworthy. Those that decide and those to be disposed.

Not Arthur, though.

He is different.

[forgedobsidian]

Hi. I'm the anon that sent you all those asks a while back that you wrote amazing fanfic for. I've been thinking about this scenario for a while and I want to share it with you. It's probably the worst thing I've ever come up with and I'm very very sorry. 1/5.

Ok so this future scenario starts out happy enough, with Izuku working as a hero and gradually gaining popularity. Even though he’s very busy with work, he of course makes time to visit All Might regularly. All Might isn’t getting any younger, he’s retired from teaching, his hair is more grey than blonde now, he’s been having some issues with arthritis in his hands. And lately, Izuku has been noticing changes in All Might that make him anxious. 2/5.

Lately All Might has seemed distracted as well as tired, more than he usually is. He’s also lost weight, which Izuku didn’t know was possible considering how thin All Might already was. One day All Might invites Izuku over for tea and Izuku just knows that this isn’t just a social call. He’s right. While they are having tea All Might tells Izuku that he’s been diagnosed with cancer. 3/5.

Izuku is shocked and scared, asking all sorts of questions such as if he’s started treatment yet and what sort of chances he has. All Might stops him and tells him that he isn’t going through with the treatment. He says there is pretty much no chance of him surviving chemo with his health how it is and not going through with chemo will probably give him longer left to live. Izuku tries to argue but All Might won’t budge and it ends with All Might holding Izuku while he cries. 4/5.

All Might eventually gets round to telling all of his old students about his diagnosis and his decision and they all react in their own way such as lots of anger and swearing from Bakugo. In the following month they all try to spend as much time with All Might as possible before he passes away. 5/5.

Ah, multi-ask-anon!! Hello!! I’m happy to hear from you again!! Your ideas are always the best, tbh.

Okay, ouch?? Frigging ouch?? This is terribly painful IN MY BONES and I love it.

The image of a fully-fledged Izuku, thriving as a hero, was wonderful, as well as the idea of a old All Might. Izuku is strong, but maybe not as tall or as beefy as All Might was in his prime. Toshinori stoops a lot more, his joints are thick with age and use, maybe he has to wear glasses all the time to help his worsening eyesight.

Izuku noticing things about All Might’s behavior that make him anxious … ouch. He forgets things sometimes, like where he placed his glasses or his cane. It’s easier for him to be distracted, or keep track of a conversation. It’s hard for him to stay warm. The image of an old All Might just starting to steadily lose weight is making me cry on my keyboard HECK. He’s already so thin, and he looses what lean muscle he had. It doesn’t take any effort at all from Izuku to simply pick Toshinori up.

The cancer diagnosis … I love the way you think, anon. The Pain™ is always top quality.

Izuku … gosh, Izuku. He would be hurting so so much. All Might is his hero, was there for him when he needed help, and by this point he’d probably have come to the realization that Toshinori was his father-figure. He’d be losing so much, and would be so confused. Toshinori’s choice to not go through with treatment makes sense. His health is already bad, and chemo might kill him faster than the cancer itself. It would probably take a while for Izuku to really accept his decision, since Toshinori has always been so determined about living. Izuku might take his decision as a sign of his teacher giving up.

Eventually, though, Izuku understands. He has to. This isn’t an enemy he can fight, or outwit, or even befriend. It’s a fact of life that everything ends (”All roads come to an end,” to quote Toshinori talking to Bakugou). He’s fortunate to have been given as much time with Toshinori as he had, and ultimately he remembers the happy times instead of being bitter that they had to end.

All of Toshinori’s students make time to visit when they can. They all notice that he’s lost weight, and his health is failing. Toshinori would be rail-thin by the end, his face drawn and narrow even moreso that it had already been. They know it won’t be long.

Bakugou is angry, but he understands. Kirishima starts crying right away, and it doesn’t stop for a while. Uraraka goes very quiet and just gives All Might a tight hug, and if she cries onto his shoulder he never complains. Todoroki spends a lot of time with his former teacher, just reading and being in the same room. They all visit, sometimes in groups, and Toshinori is always happy to see them.

And maybe this is just a typo, but you said that in the “following month they all try to spend as much time with All Might as possible before he passes away.” That makes me think that he only lived a month after telling his students about the diagnosis and my heart literally did a painful squeeze.

I’ve thought about All Might’s eventual death before, and for some reason I always imagined it as a slow decline until a peaceful passing (”Cyclamen” aside). This idea fits perfectly. He would know he was loved and appreciated, and he would be glad to have seen everyone one last time. Izuku is holding his hand when he passes away.

This idea is wonderful, anon. I got inspired and, I hope this okay, wrote down a scene.

Thank you so much for sharing your idea. It’s fantastic!!

“How long have you known?”

“A week.”

Izuku let out a shaky breath. “Alright. When do you start treatment?”

“My boy,” Toshinori sighed. “I’m not going through with treatment.”

“W-what?” Izuku felt his chest drop.

“I’m not doing chemo. That was my decision.”

“And what are your chances without the treatment!?” Izuku felt a surge of anger in his chest, and he was aware of how close he was to shattering the mug in his hand.

“Izuku, calm down.”

“No! You’re dying, All Might, and you’re not doing anything to stop it! That’s not like you!”

“Izuku, look at me.”

The younger man raised his head, seeing the exhaustion in Toshinori’s eyes and his wasted frame. His hands were thick-knuckled and permanently numb, the nerve damage of too many fights never managing to heal. His hair was gray, only brief shimmerings of blond left in his untamed mane of hair.

“Do you really think I would survive chemo?”

“It might give you a chance!”

“Me being the way I am, the treatment would kill me faster than the cancer, Izuku.”

“It’s not … that’s not …” Izuku felt himself start to hyperventilate, and he tried to get his breathing under control. He cursed under his breath.

Toshinori reached out, one hand fastening on Izuku’s upper arm and the other curling around the back of his head. The retiree pulled his successor into a tight hug, resting his chin on Izuku’s head.

“It’s not fair.” Izuku choked out a sob, throwing his arms gently around Toshinori’s torso. His head rested on Toshinori’s shoulder, and he buried his face in the side of his teacher’s neck.

Toshinori felt tears start to trail down his back. “I know, my boy. I know.”

Toshinori held Izuku, one hand slowly rubbing circles into the hero’s back. Izuku cried into his shoulder, face buried in Toshinori’s shirt. They both wondered how much time was left.

[pugoata]

for the fic ask 15- what draws you more into writing multi chapter fics and AUs specifically? also, you've commented about how for some of your fics you've used some of your personal experiences as a basis (anchor, shelter), how is the writing process different between something like that and something like gunslinger that i'd imagine isn't something you're as familiar with (unless you're actually a cowgirl or something, if that's the case tell me your yeehaw stories)

15.  Question of your choice!

Oooh this is a good one!! I like multi-chapter fics because I love having plenty of time to tell the story I want to tell. With oneshots, it’s like I can barely scratch the surface of a plot, and emotions, and by the time I finally get into the character’s heads, the show’s over. But with multi-chapter fics, I can take my time and write the smaller moments that can really give the story a good foundation. And splitting it up into chapters makes it easier on my brain, too. I’ve been tempted to make a just longer oneshots (I was saying for months that Banshee was going to be a long oneshot), but in the end, it’s just easier for me to just cut it off at a chapter and start with a clean slate in another chapter.

As for AUs-- for most of my fic-writing life, I never saw the appeal of AUs. I was more of a purist, in that if it wasn’t canon-adjacent, it wouldn’t work for me. But then I read walk where the wild things grow (hi @twelveclara!) and it BLEW MY MIND that you could just... take the characters... and put them somewhere else and see what happens when they’re in a totally new universe and man, it was freeing. Now, I just love seeing how the characters are in different environments and seeing their dynamics in situations that would never happen in canon, and it’s FUN. AU? I think you mean hurray-u and I hope that joke translated to text lolol.

Hmm for me, the writing process wasn’t actually that different! Having experience in something definitely makes it easier to write about the technical things (goat birth comes to mind...), but for the stuff I don’t know, like anything having to do with gunslinging, it just required a little more research.

I’m no cowgirl for sure ;ldksfjl;kdfjg but cowboy boots and flannel is my go-to outfit. and that’s as yeehaw as I get!!

[moon-mirage]

Just wanted to pop in and say you're one of my favorite Cresswell writers. I get so happy whenever I get an email saying you've posted, and I'm absolutely in love with your art now that I found your tumblr. Especially the Stardust au. One of my favorite stories, with one of my fav ships? God yes! I hope you write it someday, maybe after finishing one of your current fics? Even if you don't I still love the art, of course, but I'd love a written story-officialbakerysiren [sorry, I'm a sideblog!]

My heart!!! Thank you so much for your message! I’m so happy that you found my fics and my art and like both. 😭😍

And yes, the Stardust AU with Cresswell! I had in mind for a long time but thought I could draw it a little because I had not many ideas to draw for the last year or so. And I would absolutely love to read it as a fanfic but as for writing it... 😳

I have no illusions about my story length anymore: PEA was meant to be 15 chapters, TWMA 10 drabbles and Masks 5 chapters tops. Since you know my fics, you know that didn’t work out. At all. 😅

So realistically, the Stardust AU would be like 40-50 chapters, if not more. Because I would not just include Cresswell but also an overarching plot that would include many other TLC characters; there would be evil queens to defeat, emperors to be crowned and wars to be won. So, I know it would be a super long story.

[As reader I would be like, “heck yeah”, as a writer I’m more, “Gods no”! 🤣]

I can’t say I’m not tempted to write it but it would be a huge commitment. Maaayyyybeeee I would be able to write a few oneshots (which I thought about Masks too but still) and just take a few ideas and see how it goes.

More I can’t promise at this point though.

Again, many thanks for your kind message. It brightened my grey Saturday!

[codevassie]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For eight years.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eight years…

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

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

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

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

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

And maybe Keith might have. If not for Shiro.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-/-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No problem, man.”

-/-

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re way too impulsive.”

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

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

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

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

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

Then, he lunged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Keith looked too.

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

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

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