#if things like faces are vastly different each drawing or if 2 characters are shaded differently in the same piece

[beholdme]

All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 14

Chapters: 14/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

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

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

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

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

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13]

One night, in the middle of a shift, Gerry gets a pounding migraine and goes to the back to have a cigarette. He knows it won't help, but he smokes it anyway and considers things as he paces the back room.

He's terrible at being sick, and it makes him miserable to be around. Still, the pain makes him ache for his partners, and he can't help picking up the phone to call Jon. It's close to midnight, but Gerry hopes that it won't be the one time Jon has gone to bed at a reasonable hour.

"Hello, Gerard," Jon answers the phone with an ocean of warmth in his voice.

"I miss you." Gerry presses his forehead into the cool window, seeking some sort of relief from the agonizing pressure in his head. He whispers the words like a confession, smokey breath fogging up the glass before him.

"What's wrong my love?" Just Jon's heady, seductive voice provides the emotional support Gerry was seeking, and he wishes he could sink into the words, the feelings behind them, and leave his fracturing body behind for a while.

"Nothing. Not feeling well is all. I just wanted to hear your voice." He sounds pale and washed out, even to himself.

"I'm still at the library, I'll come by and haunt you until your shift is over." Jon makes the offer very casually, although that fussy part of his personality that enjoys mothering Gerry and Martin shines through a bit.

"On a Friday, Jon? You should be home with Martin." He can't help but chuckle at his sweet idiot, even through the pain.

"Martin is out with Sasha and Tim for the evening, remember? I was hoping to stop by and tempt you over to mine tonight anyway." Far from being chastised for his workaholic tendencies, Jon injects all his fond affection into his tone. "Would you be interested in spending the night in a handsome man's bed?"

"Fuck yes. Obviously."

"Oh Gerry, my Gerry." Jon sing-songs into the phone. "Always saying just the right thing to make my heart skip a beat."

Gerry takes a moment to consider his state. He can barely see out of his blurry eyes, and the pounding in his ears makes him feel vaguely underwater. His forceful personality makes it hard for him to admit, but he knows he shouldn't be working like this, and that he'll be much better off with his lover than alone in his own flat.

"I'm going to beg off the rest of my shift, will you come fetch me?" He desperately tries to keep his words easy, but he comes off sounding rather plaintive.

"Yes, Gerry, of course." Jon is frowning audibly now, but he leaves his concern be for the moment. Gerry can hear him moving about, probably packing up his things. "I'm leaving right now, I'll be there soonest. Gerry?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

Gerry squeezes his eyes shut tight. "I love you too, Jon."

*

Jon takes one look at Gerry's drawn, pale face, and calls them a cab.

Gerry doesn't offer even one argument, and a pit of concern opens up in Jon's stomach.

"Do you want to go back to your place, after all?" He asks, sliding his hands up Gerry's arms to rest on his shoulders. "Maybe you'll be more comfortable in your own space."

"No, let's go to yours." Gerry draws their foreheads together, standing out in the cool air of the street. "I like being in your space, with your energy and your things. Besides, how can I resist an invitation to your bed."

"Yes, all the cuddling we've done there must really make your heart skip a beat with lust," Jon responds drily.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Gerry tells him firmly.

The taxi arrives and they climb in. Gerry is several inches taller than Jon, but he manages to scoot down enough to lie draped over the smaller man. Jon notices with some amusement that Gerry has adopted a rather Saturn-like posture, curled around him like an extremely large cat in the limited space.

They arrive at Jon's building and trudge up the several flights of stairs and through his door. Jon drags Gerry firmly by the hand, worried that without the right forward momentum, he'll lay down on the floor and pass out. Jon, under no misunderstanding about his physical prowess, knows that once his lumberjack-shaped boyfriend goes down, he certainly won't be getting him back up.

They go straight to the en-suite, and Gerry strips down to his briefs, Jon encouraging him to wash his face and half-heartedly brush his teeth. Halfway through, Gerry lets out a startled chuckle.

"What?" Jon asks from nearby, changing by his armoire.

"I own three toothbrushes." He tells him in an airy, disconnected tone. "Don't you think that's kinda silly?"

"No, Gerry, what would be silly was if you only had one and you carried it everywhere you went because you weren't sure whose bed you might end up sleeping in that night." And indeed, the multiple toothbrushes solution had originated from them unexpectedly sleeping over at each other's flats with no planning- and no toothbrushes.

Gerry giggles again, and Jon begins to worry about what kind of bizarre migraine he might have. Having suffered through a fair few in his life, he is more used to them presenting like all-consuming misery than like some kind of weird foggy drug trip. Gerry could be unique that way, though.

"I never thought I would have so many bed options that it might be an issue," Gerry whispers, staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Changed into his sleep clothes, Jon goes over to stand behind him and wrap an arm around his waist. It's normally a Gerry or Martin posture, since Jon is smaller than them, but there's a different kind of satisfaction in having Gerry relax and settle into him, sighing with something akin to relief.

He looks at their reflection in the mirror and even with Gerry looking haggard, eyes sunken, 5 o'clock shadow coming in, hair thrown haphazardly into a messy bun, Jon can't help the swell of contentment that fills him. How did he, Jon 'walking disaster waiting to happen’ Sims, manage to get this right?

"Then I suppose it's a good thing my bed has been waiting for you all along," Jon eventually responds. "Come on, let's get you into it."

Gerry allows himself to be tucked in, although he refuses food and is only convinced with great reluctance to take two ibuprofen. His eyes remain stubbornly open, but the moment Jon finishes his own nighttime activities and slips into bed with him, Gerry curls around him, and promptly passes out.

*

The next morning, Gerry sleeps far longer than he normally would, even though he went to sleep several hours before his typical bedtime.

When he surfaces, approaching midday, he's groggy and stiff and feels rather hungover. Gerry thinks maybe a hangover would be better- at least then he would have had a good time to compliment his current misery.

Despite that, as he blinks his eyes open, the strains of gentle piano music drift through the flat, and he can't help the smile that spreads across his face. It’s not particularly loud, and Gerry is incredibly soothed by it. In fact, when he says he likes being at Jon’s flat, this is why. He often sits down to play in the softest moments, if Gerry and Martin are around. Any normal, oft-repeated, potentially boring activity could be made delightful and atmospheric if Jon is sitting at the piano.

Jon had once confessed that he vastly preferred playing when one or both of them were around to hear it.

"At least half of the joy of music is in the audience," Jon had confessed quietly to them one day. "And you two are the best audience of all."

Now, as he wakes gently to the sound of his partner making music, Gerry can’t help but feel special and treasured. Never before in his life had he picked up the phone in a crisis with the complete certainty that there would be a loving voice on the other end. He had not even realized he was lacking such reliability until he had come to be able to depend on it, but now that it exists, he shies away from even the thought that he might lose it again.

He takes a moment to consider the current reality of their relationship. He obviously loves them, has always loved Jon, from the moment he growled at Gerry in the literature section of the library when he was seventeen-years-old. Now Martin fits with them both so well, Gerry wouldn’t know how to breathe without him. They’re it for him, he can see that clearly.

He can see it in the way that pain and illness drove him straight to Jon like true north and the way he managed to care for him through it perfectly.

He can see it in the way that Martin never seems to be less affected by finding Gerry in his bookstore, and the way Gerry’s heart feels hot and heavy in his chest every time Martin finds him still and focused and takes a moment to braid his hair in one way or another.

He can even see it in the way he immediately self-destructed when he thought he was going to lose them, pushing every part of his life into immediate turmoil at the thought of being alone again. Family-less. Without his Jon, and his Martin.

And he can see that he’s it for them too, in the way they clung to him to keep him together when he almost sunk the whole thing.

They are, he can see now, as essential to one another as breathing.

Gerry suddenly wishes that this could be the home that they all share. He wishes that every time one of them came home to him, they never had to leave to do laundry or water plants. He wishes, most of all, that this music could fill his house and his heart every morning, and that he would never again have to wake up trying to remember whose bed he was in - because they all shared the same one.

He hopes, desperately, that one day that will be their reality. Maybe not tomorrow, but eventually, he’s confident he can convince he’s partners to stick around for good.

Until then, he’s content to be so loved that he needs three toothbrushes.

*

Gerry thinks maybe he drifts off again, because the next thing he knows, Jon is gently kissing his hand to wake him, a cup of tea in his other.

“Hi,” Jon whispers, sitting down on the bed next to him.

“Hey there,” Gerry offers in return, slowly sitting up and leaning back against the headboard. “How are you today?”

Gerry takes the tea and sips it gratefully, finding it sweet and herbal. Camomile, he thinks, but wouldn’t swear his life on it at that moment.

“How bad could I be?” Jon asks, a mischievous glint in his eye, “I have a beautiful boy in my bed and I think I’ll keep him there all day.”

“Does this stunning nocturnal visitor get a say in the matter or…?” Gerry manages to offer a slightly dimmer version of his flirtatious grin.

“Maybe, if he makes it worth my while.” Jon teases, before sobering a little. “How are you though? You seemed in a pretty bad way last night.”

“I think I’m fine now, I guess it was just a fluke.” Gerry stretches, joints popping.

Jon picks up the tea to take a sip.

“It’s not as good as when Martin makes it.” He mutters to himself, grimacing.

Gerry finishes stretching, rather like a cat again, before shifting up onto his knees to hover slightly above Jon, as is his preference. “Maybe, but it’s still my favourite kind of thing because it's something you made for me.”

Jon reaches up, wrapping a hand around Gerry’s neck and pulling his lips down to meet his own. It’s gentle and dragging, and they tangle together enjoyably for several minutes. Gerry pulls away to kiss Jon’s cheeks, his nose, his forehead. Eventually Jon giggles and pushes him away, handing the tea back over in an effort to distract him.

“Do you want anything to eat?” Jon queries.

“Not just yet. Maybe a shower?”

“That sounds like a good plan. You should take it easy today.” Jon pauses, considering his next suggestion. “And maybe I could convince you to take tonight off from the bar too? Then we can all spend the evening together.”

"Yes, I think I could be tempted to do exactly that."

*

Gerry lingers in the shower, letting the water work out his stiffness and lift the fog hanging pervasively over him.

He washes his hair with Jon's shampoo and hopes the scent will linger on him. He decides not to shave, feeling too loose and lazy to handle any sharp objects.

Jon force-feeds him after, and then he braids Gerry's hair to keep it out his face.

"I can't believe you never braided your hair before you met Martin," Jon says as his fingers move through his hair rhythmically.

Gerry shrugs. "There was never anyone to teach me on myself, and my mother was bald for my entire formative life, so I couldn't learn from her."

Jon hums in acknowledgement.

"Speaking of Martin, where is our errant lover?" Gerry asks buoyantly, bouncing slightly.

Jon laughs at him, "Apparently he was out all night and then crashed on Tim's couch. He's going to come over later when he's managed to disinfect himself."

After, they move back to bed to read their books and rest, basking in the simple comfort of each other's presence, waiting for their third.

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

[just-kessho]

Ambrosia: Dazai Happiness Week

[Day 4] Self Care

AU: None

Warnings: None but there are spoilers for Dark Era/Season 2 of BSD

[Day 1] [Day 2] [Day 3] [Here] [Day 5] [Day 6] [Day 7]

 For the person known was Dazai Osamu, to him, self-care meant forcing himself to get some shut-eye at four in the morning and forcing his stomach to contain whatever food he chose to digest.

Not watch some movies and stop – just momentarily – about all the impossible calculations and plans that were running continuously in his brain, forever analysing and evaluating each worryingly accurate outcome forever in a loop.

Not actually take a break and… take a bath, for example (for him, showers are much more efficient – and quicker), all the while humming a song under his breath.

Oh no.

That was a “total waste of time” according to Dazai Osamu’s standards.

Perhaps there was small part of his mind, hidden by the cheerful facades, ‘how-can-I-annoy-Kunikida-kun-and-everybody-within-a-three-feet-radius-today-?’ and admiring how [Name] was becoming cuter the more he admires her, that refuses to fade away with time. It was like a scar, where it just barely contained his inner demons, and a small trivial thing, or perhaps a shard of a memory, could easily make the damn metaphorical thing bleed.

And in turn, it made him spiral down a never-ending spiralling staircase of… what? Was it regret? For unable to persuade his dear friend Odasaku from pursuing death itself? Or was it depression? That clings to him like those disgusting perfumes that he used to stench of at night, as another unknown woman lie in the king-sized bed when he was perched on a golden chair that was the second-in-line for Port Mafia’s throne? Or was it even fear? Fear for not being able to wash away the blood that stained his hands – it lingers there, and despite him sometimes scrubbing the skin until it was raw, the metallic smell never really left.

Still, today should have been no different. As his clock-work schedule was already ticking away before he had dressed himself – despite all the times Kunikida screamed him for being someone who had no sense of shame and organisation.

Yet the day was different… vastly different.

First, he didn’t wake up (it was one of the handful of times that he forced himself to bed) only to stare a hole through the ceiling. Oh no. A familiar shade met his eyes, one that he already memorised deep in his head.

“Hey.”

Ah, there she was. His belladonna.

Yet before he could drag his own upper body out of the comfort that was his futon, she pushed a tray where various assortments of the traditional Japanese breakfast were on towards him.

He stared at them. Hard. And then at her. Hard.

“… Eat. I told Kunikida-kun to push every deadline that you have a day later. He freaked out, as expected, but after thirty minutes of arguing back-and-forth, he finally relented.”

“O…kay?”

“So today is your relaxation day.”

Dazai knew of those words separately, yet group them together… and he looked more like a kid who failed to grasp a basic mathematics question than someone who was the youngest underboss in all of mafia history.

“As in,” he heard [Name] clarify as if she was teaching him how to solve an equation, “you’ll be doing nothing but relaxing all day.”

And that was basically what he did.

Longing around, to be honest, the only time he got up was to use the bathroom or steal some crabsticks when [Name] had her back on him. He was also skipping every boring TV show and movies there were currently showing or being re-run… which was 95% of them – he could already predict what the characters would do and the ending. Seriously, [Name] sometimes wondered whether he was an omniscient God or something…

Still, at the peaceful look spread across Dazai’s face, where there was no worry or stress lines caused by his work (despite the agency being vastly different from the mafia – a good kind of different one that [Name] somehow compared to walking out of school at the end of term, she supposes – the jobs that they took were still dangerous. Perhaps more so now that there were fewer members compared to Port Mafia) etched permanently on his face, and the lack of dark circles that made his already pale complexion paler, almost as if he was wearing a living, breathing skull on his face, she knew it was the right thing to do.

So much so that she decided to feign ignorance on him snatching crabsticks when he thought she wasn’t looking.

“I’ll draw you a bath.”

“Thank you, [Name]-chan~ oh, you could even sneak in with me~” voice sly, a smirk soon followed by a flirty wink that basically showed off his intentions, Dazai barely avoided being abused with the TV remote thrown by a very rather pissed [hair colour] girl who was nearly a head shorter than him.

It was when she was out of sight that he realised [Name] didn’t accept nor decline the offer.

… Well, that was one of the many reasons that attracted him to her. Despite not saying anything, she never really lied about anything – and that sometimes meant her wordings could be unique, weird even, yet they contain an undertone of someone who had experienced things that people could never even imagine what they were.

Still, as he felt [Name] lazily wash his unruly locks that just refused to stay straight and neat no matter what anyone did with it, he thought that this was not too bad.

“Like what you see?” he teased, not forgetting to add his infamous smirk that would have girls and women alike swooning at his feet and blush hard.

But this was [Surname] [Name] that we were talking about.

“Yes.” wow, not even a pause. “Considering that I saw the real ‘you’ not even a week ago.”

Cheeks slightly hotter than a second before, Dazai thought back to this warm feeling that blossomed in his chest whenever [Name]’s near.

Perhaps… this disease that they call ‘love’ really isn’t that bad at all.

And as he lay down in the futon with [Name] next to him, as a night where the stars shone brighter than ever before, where the demons in his mind retreated back underneath that faded out scar, engulfed the Japanese port city silently, hushing all noise down to a minimum, he thought that he should change his definition of ‘self-care’ tremendously…

… and that if time stopped now, as his eye lids became heavier with the sound of the [hair colour] haired Goddess breathing next to him (she was breathing… and was alive), luring him onto a sense of security – however minimal and temporary that is right now – he thought he really could stay like this forever.

It was enough.

Hey, his demon wasn’t obliterated, yet he was feeling more refreshed than yesterday. Perhaps with little steps this these, one day… one distant day in the future, he could genuinely smile without the hands that threatened to drag him back to Hell on his mind.

To Dazai Osamu, self-care is… let's just say even interaction with [Surname] [Name] could probably qualify. And that was enough.

Even when Kunikida’s screeching voicemail was their wake-up alarm the next morning.

@dazaixhappinessweek2k19

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #dazai osamu (bsd) #dazai x reader #dazaixhappinessweek2k19 #reader insert #kunikida doppo #fluff #suggestive themes #imported work #Ambrosia: Dazai Happiness Week

[the-cryptographer]

Ettushipping for the ask!!!!

Ah~ Thank you for asking about the OTP. I kind of figured I’d have nothing to say about it except repeating what I answered about polar and JouKai for the meme, but I shouldn’t have underestimated myself x_x  I also apologise, because it feels impossible for me to talk about them without talking about my fic project talking about writing fic instead of writing it so this might not be all that exciting mea culpa, but imma post - no obligation to pay attention to me - thankies~

when I started shipping it if I did:

In 2015, I was watching a lot ofygotas, feeling kind of bummed out, and looking through fanfiction. And I kindof had an ongoing interest in fmm and ffm polyships at this point, so I waslike, ‘okay, let’s smash my two favourite ships together and read all theMaiJouKai’.

A few minutes and some searchesaround the net later, I came to the tragic realisation that there /was/ noMaiJouKai. And then I was like, ‘fuck that. What has fandom spent the lastfifteen years doing then?’ and decided to write my own.

So I wrote a fic called On Public Relations and IndefiniteDefinitions which, instead of being the humorous longform fic I wanted toread, was some oneshot filled with Kaiba angsting about how he not only endedup with this moron, but he ended up with this moron that he’s kind of afraidwill leave him for Mai. It was also about the paparazzi, and the fact that Jouis Kaiba’s kind-of employee, and trying to understand where exactly we draw theline on somebody being a golddigger, and how to reconcile vastly differentlevels of income in a relationship. And, tbh, the fic is kind of shitty imo,but it still has some interesting ideas in it that are more or less ignored orunexplored so far as I’ve been able to see (and also it’s my humble fanficroots so I appreciate it for that).

I kind of dropped the fic and ran,and was going to just leave it at that. But then about a year later, due tomore ygotas and a sudden desire to revisit manga canon and watch the rest ofthe dub, I dropped back into the fandom and started revisting the ideas I’ddropped in my fic. I came to realise I really wanted to reuse the ship andbasic premise and try to write a fic where (1) Kaiba and Jou’s relationshipgoes from its approximate canon form with all the animosity to a romanceonscreen, (2) you’re given a lot of the factors commonly used to cause Mai& Jou to break-up except considered and explored in their own right in thecontext of Mai and Jou actually being invested in and feeling strongly for eachother, (3) Jou is working for Kaiba and the issues involved inemployee/employer relationships are laid out without an attempt to villainiseeither character, (4) wealth and poverty are not just having or not-havingmoney (something that could then easily be solved by Mai or Kaiba handing Jou acheck) but an entire relationship with money and employment and society andself-expectation and the cause of pretty severe cultural misunderstandings, (5)etc. etc. Yeah, this fic has way too many themes in it.  I mean, more than anything I wanted a ficabout Jounouchi’s entire existence postcanon – every single one of hisrelationships – and this ended up being a good way to do it. And, jeez, if thiswasn’t my OTP before I started planning LottoTicket, it definitely was after.

my thoughts:

idk, part of me is like, ‘you’rejust being really self-indulgent and forcing your two favourite ships into one,aren’t you?’ and then the other part of me is like, ‘but I don’t feel at alllike I’m forcing the characters to behave in any way that’s unnatural for them.I mean, I certainly commandeer the situational factors to make them moresusceptible to certain behaviour, but it doesn’t even feel very outlandish. Infact, the more I think about it, the more I think the ship as a whole couldease a lot of the individual tensions of its components.’

idk, I think the true answer is…both. It’s both indulgent and reasonable.

But I feel like I should say,insofar as my WIP is going, I’m not attempting to justify it as a ship thatwill last until everyone is dead, as much as I’m attempting to justify it assomething that helps brings stability to the characters during this ratherspecific period in their lives. I might eventually write something thatattempts to do more with the ship in the future, but I think those willdefinitely be more on the silly and fun and wholly indulgent side of things.

What makes me happy about them:

That Mai gets to travel and duel,Seto gets to have his company and its projects, and Jou doesn’t have to feel unsupportedand completely attention-starved in the meantime.

Also I’ve talked before about howSeto and Jou can pretty easily create a positive feedback loop for terriblebehaviour. I think having another person involved is one of the easiest ways tointercept that. It doesn’t have to be Mai, and it doesn’t have to be somebodyone or both of them are romantically involved with, but it does have to besomeone close enough to them, that they can witness the cause and effect oftheir behaviour on the emotional aspects of their relationship, and that Jouand Kaiba can’t just turn to and say, ‘buzz off, our relationship is our ownprivate business’. I think Mai and Jou, in different ways, both end upmediating quite a bit between Jou & Kaiba and Mai & Kaiba respectively.Kaiba less so for Jou & Mai, but I think, even in his presence, he canencourage Mai and Jou to consider when they’re being inattentive andunreasonable with each other respectively.

What makes me sad about them:

The amount of trickery I have to useto get them together, lol. I’ve tricked Seto into thinking Joey is gay andsingle. If he knew Joey was bi and had a girlfriend, I don’t think he’d beentertaining this idea for even a second. That’sright, Seto, let’s get you nice and overly invested ahead of time so you can’tdismiss the idea out of hand~

idk, everyone’s an insecure mess,but… even if I was writing for a more proper triad/threesome like miranova’settushipping, or battleshipping, or how I think most people talk aboutflareshipping, I imagine Seto at some point pitching a fit about how the othertwo like each other more than they like him. It is inevitable. It’s only amatter of how terrible the explosion is, and how well they manage to reassureeach other in the aftermath. So isn’t MaiJouKai as a V even worse because, ontop of all the personal insecurity, you’ve got a lot of societal messagingabout how you probably shouldn’t let yourself feel secure in letting your boyfriendsleep with someone else? idk, I see why Vs aren’t that popular in fandom.Before this I’d mostly shipped polyships where all the people were sexuallyinvolved. But I feel like, if you read a lot of OT3s, you realise how that mostof them are Vs on one level or another – it’s pretty naïve to think you’regoing to find two other people you feel equally strongly about in all theimportant™ ways, who are also going to feel equally strongly about you and eachother in those same important™ ways. Maybe it’s also naïve to think that aninequality in a sexual fashion is more profound than an inequality in anemotional one? I mean, /I/ think sexuality in relationships is one of thehigher ranked things in terms of profundity, but I don’t think everyone thinksso. Jou and Mai and Kaiba probably don’t agree with me or each other on thattopic – everyone has a different set of values, right? …I guess it makes me sadthat I don’t know whether or not they can make a poly relationship work incorrespondence with their expectations for a relationship – whether thoseexpectations are based on their own needs or on kind of a societalunderstanding of what a relationship should be – but maybe I shouldn’t say thatmakes me sad like that’s the end of the story either? When you are curious anddon’t know the answer – that’s a time when your mind is still open to newinformation and possibilities, right? You can let the characters bounce offeach other without an investment in the answer. That’s a fun place to writefrom.

things done in fanfic that annoy me & things I look for in fanfic:

lol, what fic? I liked Love Boat, although it’s more arrogantshipping than ettu.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other:

I think it’s pretty clear I ship allthe people with all the people at this point. Anyone can end up with anyone andI’d be comfortable with it if it was considered with care.

My happily ever after for them:

I feel like it came up in a memeonce, or as a response to a fic comment, or something of that nature. Jou andMai and Seto are at some sporting event for their kid. Jou and Mai are theembarrassingly loud and enthusiastic parents who are ready to fight anyone thatsays their kid isn’t the greatest. It’s a hot summer day and Seto is wearing aheavy jacket and shades and being incredibly unemotive. He’ll save hiscongratulations until the end, thanks.

That’s a happily ever after of sorts, right?

who is the big spoon/little spoon:

idk, about spoons, but sleepposition headcanon is that Seto and Mai both like sleeping in the middle whenall three of them share a bed. It is the warmest and most comforting spot. AndI’ve already said that Seto is always cold, and Mai likes feeling safelyenclosed.

(Oh, god, Seto probably starts a riotthe first time Mai wakes him up and teasingly tells him to move because he’spopping wood into her stomach/thigh. For a while he refuses to sleep near herat all. And then for a while he refuses to sleep near her except with his back facingher.)

what is their favorite non-sexual activity:

For all three of them together? Sleeping. That’s aboring one though, lol. I think they like going to tournaments together, eitherwhen somebody’s competing or none of them are.

I think more they like doing things just the two ofthem though. I answered for Jou and each of the others, but for Seto and Mai –they probably go to gallery openings or something, or get lunch and talk shopabout work and talk smack about everyone. Mai’s an easy guest for Seto to taketo business party type things too. She’s all the charm and he can just sit nextto her and lean into her shoulder and zone out while she’s socialising.

:’)  Thank you again~

#ettuship #save me from this card game hell #ask