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lily-alphonse · 1 day

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To Be Young and Stupid by Lily Alphonse (Revali x Link)

Category: M/M

Rating: Teen (Mild injury, mild violence)

Rito have a habit of playfully pushing each other off ledges without a second thought. This becomes a problem though, when your friend doesn't have wings. Or A very cute glider origin story.

Words: 4,160

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Mute Link, Poor Communication, Pre-Calamity, Rito Culture

Posting this for Revalink 2024, for the prompt Youth! I actually RACED to write this today. I wrote my ass off. Posting the whole thing here but I will also add an edited version to my AO3 soon.

➽───────────────❥

The first time it happened, Revali felt extremely foolish.

They had been sparring, and Link turned it into a game to see if he could reach Revali’s braids. He hadn’t given their precarious location any thought before shoving Link over the edge. But Link’s frightened gasp as he fell shocked Revali into action.

He leapt off the edge after him, talons grabbing him by the tunic and the thick leather of his sword harness. Hylians were not large, but with the momentum it was hard to lift him, and for a panicked moment he considered they might need to glide down into the water.

He pumped his wings harder, straining against gravity, until his gust shot them up higher and over the edge again.

They landed roughly in the grass, Revali narrowly avoiding slamming into a tree stump.

Link looked cross with him. He had a bit of twig stuck in his hair and dirt on his chin.

Revali meant to apologize, he really did. Instead, what came out was an admonishment of Hylians’ inferior biology; and how lucky Link was that he was in the presence of a Rito fast and powerful enough to catch him.

Link rolled his eyes and stomped off, but he still stayed in the village that night. Revali gave him an additional fish kebab, keeping only two for himself. The Rito champion could feel Link’s eyes on him, but avoided his gaze.

Link thankfully didn’t press it.

Revali worried that he would ask if he had done it on purpose. Because he had, and he also hadn’t, and he wasn’t sure what was worse. The truth was that it came naturally because pushing each other like that was something Rito did when they were comfortable with each other.

It had been a long time though, since anyone had played with him like that. Playing. That's what it was.

Ever since becoming a Master warrior, it was like there was an energy around him that warded people off; that commanded respect. Revali stepped into the role and acted in a manner expected of him. But part of him still ached to be young. To be played with. To be loved for his laugh and not his precision or his speed.

He felt safe with Link. And Link felt safe with him, and in a messed up way it made Revali a danger to him, since he could not fly.

Link was a bit jumpier after that, and it hurt Revali’s heart to see, though he knew it was only fair. But over time, things eased up again. They had to trust each other when they fought side by side. And they could, they were unstoppable together. Revali was the only one of the Champions with eyes fast enough to track Link’s movements when he was a blur on the battlefield.

The next time happened when they raced, Link running and Revali flying.

Link was remarkably fast. He might have actually beat Revali, though he didn’t want to consider that a possibility. Instead he flew too close to him at the end of the race, clipping him with his wing enough to knock him back. It was meant to be affectionate, mostly. But once again, Link was standing too close to the edge. And how was Revali supposed to remember he couldn’t fly?

They both should have known better, really, but they were young and stupid.

This time when Link fell he almost said something. The beginning of a word, “nn-“ swallowed up by the wind as he fell.

Revali groaned and jumped after him, though this time the Hylian had the sense to catch himself – if barely – on a lower ledge.

He allowed himself to be pulled up by Revali, but when they got topside, Link didn’t give him a chance to apologize (or say something arrogant meant to be an apology). Instead he removed his sword harness and threw it at him, his eyes brimming with tears.

Revali dodged it and watched dumbly as Link removed his tunic and threw that at him, too. This time it hit Revali’s breast. He watched it fall to the ground in confusion, but then he saw Link’s body.

His arms, where he had caught himself on the rock, were scraped bloody and raw. His chest already bore a red and purple bruise from impacting the stone.

But his face was the worst, so angry, breathing hard with nostrils flaring, eyes red with tears. Eyes daring him to say something cocky and dismissive again.

Revali didn’t. He didn’t say anything.

He knelt to pick up the discarded tunic and sword harness. He stayed kneeling and held both out for him.

Link was the mute one, but in this moment Revali could not speak either. He could not say what he needed to. He could barely look him in the eyes.

This whole thing was so stupid.

Link took his things back from him. Revali stayed kneeling and looking at Link’s boots, beak set. This was the closest Link would get to an apology.

Link allowed him to clean his wounds by candlelight. Revali’s beak hurt from clenching it so tightly. He’d barely said anything since the incident, just mumbled commands to remove his tunic again and move his arm this way or that.

He couldn’t explain why he kept doing this. Why he kept breaching Link’s trust, just because he actually trusted him so much. How he wanted Link to push him too, and how it would actually be fun if he did it to him, and not this horrifying ordeal.

Link had long stopped bleeding but the rag Revali cleaned his wounds with was red with it.

If only he could give Link wings.

Or if only you had an ounce of self-control, a spiteful voice hissed in the back of his mind.

He stared at the canopy basket the medicine man had lowered down to his hut. The baskets were descended on ropes, but still had small canopies attached to slow their descent. Maybe something similar could be employed for Link?

He could ask Maro, the Rito craftsman who made the baskets, to make a larger canopy with handles for him.

No, that would be absurd.

Link tapped his wing, shaking him from his thoughts. Done? he signed.

Revali supposed he had been done for a while, and found himself stalling. He dropped the rag in the soiled water and nodded.

Link stood and replaced his tunic and sword harness. Revali stayed sitting cross-legged on the floor of his hut, eyes on the flickering candle on the table. “Will you stay tonight?” he asked quietly.

Link might have shaken his head no, but Revali did not look at him to see it. His response was clear enough when he walked out.

Revali sat for a moment, still staring at the flame. He listened to the Hylian’s steps fade on the boardwalk, drowned out by the singing of crickets and wind.

It was absurd to continue on like this, but wouldn’t it be more absurd to gift him something? With no idea how Link would rationalize the offering, it was too risky. Even aside from it being a gift, it would mean admitting there was something more between them; since it wasn’t as if he was throwing any other Hylians off of tall perches. Or anyone at all, really. No one came close enough, metaphorically or physically.

He stood abruptly and hurled the water bucket out of the hut in a rage.

➽───────────────❥

“This is awful, really. I don’t know how you live like this. Walking everywhere. Don’t your feet hurt? I suppose that’s why you wear boots,” Revali mused as they walked to the lake.

Link was back in the village with Zelda, Revali didn’t care what for, just that Zelda was busy enough with the elder that he had Link to himself. It took some convincing for Link to come with him this time, though. His eyes were hard to him now, suspicious. But Link was a people pleaser to a fault and Revali was not above using that against him.

“I’ve flown you plenty of times. We could fly there so much faster than this,” he continued.

Apparently tired of his complaining, Link stopped and signed something like drop, and that shut Revali up until they made it to the lake.

It was uncomfortably warm in the summer sun, and Link immediately stripped to his undershorts as they arrived. Revali found a spot in the shade of the cliffs near the lake to set up with his fishing spear.

In the distance, Link dove into the water with a loud splash.

Revali set aside his spear and splashed himself with some water to preen, getting comfortable. He watched as Link disappeared under the sparkling water and reappeared further into the lake, popping up to wipe his long hair back from his face and settle on his back to float.

Two thoughts warred for dominance in Revali’s mind. The first, (being a thought that occurred unfortunately often now) was that Link was quite captivating. The second, that Hylians were adaptable, but did not seem well suited to any environment in particular. Link survived fine in water. He moved in it almost successfully, but nothing like a Zora. And his survival in the sky was even poorer.

He continued to float on his back in the sun until Revali got bored of watching him and tried to catch a fish.

He watched them float idly beneath the surface, most of them too deep at this time of day. He tried to spear one and failed, the splash sending the others racing away. Revali cursed and sat back down on the rocky outcropping he’d chosen as his perch among the reeds.

Glancing back up he noticed Link was slowly floating closer, pushed by the slow lap of waves. He seemed to almost be sleeping, his face loose of its usual tension. If he was closer, Revali would have impulsively splashed him. He chuckled to himself for the childish urge and checked the water again to see if any fish had come back.

One was coming closer, but so was Link. He would find himself in the reeds with him if he didn’t correct his course soon. Revali sighed, giving up on the idea of getting any fish today. He contemplated calling out to Link, instead choosing to wait until he came within spearing distance.

Closer now, he saw how his injuries had developed, the bruise on his chest partially visible above the water. It had spread since that first day, but it was more yellow now than red.

Revali flipped his spear and poked Link’s leg with the butt of it. “You’re scaring away my fish.”

Link blinked his eyes open and brought a hand up to shield his them, turning to stand in the water. He grinned and shook his head, pointing at Revali. No, you, he seemed to say. Revali rolled his eyes, but was secretly delighted to have his friend acting normal again.

Link stretched and looked around them, then seemed to consider something for a moment. Revali barely had a moment to stand, feeling what was coming by the mischievous look on the Hylian’s face. “Don’t-” he started, but Link had already wound up his arm and sent a splash his way.

The water hit his bottom half mostly, and wasn’t enough to actually get beyond his top layer of feathers. “Dangerous to provoke me unarmed, Hylian,” Revali said, shaking his spear at him.

Link laughed, a sound that always sent a delightful shudder through the Rito since he so rarely heard Link’s voice.

He disappeared under the water and swam away. Revali smiled to himself, though somewhat disappointed.

He sat back down. At least he might be able to get some fish to come back now.

Link’s head popped up in the distance and he swam in long fluid strokes until he reached the other bank, where he pulled himself out of the water. Revali watched as he walked around where the rocks rose up in a formation beside the lake, disappearing out of sight.

Revali did not think much of it, assuming he was going to relieve himself.

A few moments later, when he had a fish in his sights again, a wordless shout from above shocked him just before an enormous splash sent water all over and around him.

Link had jumped from the edge of the short cliff above.

His grinning face emerged from the water with another laugh to see the Rito thoroughly soaked now. Revali leveled his spear at him in threat. Link yelped and disappeared under the water again, so he dropped the spear and removed his leather fauld, dropping it onto a nearby boulder to jump in after him.

It was a stupid thing to do, since as much as he looked down on Hylians’ swimming ability, most Rito were even worse. But he made an attempt to chase him regardless, which resulted in another splash, this time to the face. But Link was laughing, so it was worth it.

Revali sputtered and wiped the water away from his face. “I’m going to have to preen myself for hours after this,” he groaned.

Link looked at him with a curious expression before pointing to himself and making the sign for help.

Revali’s feathers would have ruffled if they could, as embarrassed as he was by the insinuation. He looked away quickly and folded his wings tightly around himself under the water. “I… Link you know disgustingly little about Rito,” he huffed.

He cocked his head and made a sign Revali didn’t recognize. “I don’t know what you’re saying,” he sighed, looking back to the bank.

Link swam closer to him and pulled his attention back. He pointed at him, then made the sign for speaking.

“Tell you?” Revali asked.

Link nodded with a determined expression. Revali noticed a dusting of freckles on his shoulders and cheeks in the sun.

“It’s…” he clamped his beak and looked up as if the sky held some kind of answer. He didn’t want to talk about it. But he did want Link to know. Part of him wanted Link to know in case Link turned out to want that level of closeness with him. “It’s an… intimate thing.” He finally spit out. He immediately looked away and nodded to himself, satisfied that it was a serviceable explanation.

When he glanced back at Link his cheeks were pinker. Sorry he signed.

Revali rolled his eyes and took the opportunity to splash him this time, his wing doing a better job of it than the Hylian’s puny arms. It was Revali’s turn to laugh as Link spit and wiped his face.

He turned back to the bank. “Come on I’ll drop you in,” Revali called over his shoulder before he could second-guess himself. He ruffled and shook out his feathers after stepping out of the water, most of it thankfully coming away, though he’d certainly look a bit more haggard till he could properly groom himself.

Link followed him out. He stood dripping on the rocks with his hands on his lean hips, grinning at Revali.

“What?” he asked, quickly skimming his beak over his flight feathers.

Link made another sign he didn’t understand. Revali made a mental note to learn some more of Link’s sign language because this was getting exhausting, as much as he liked to be the only one speaking. Revali shrugged at him and Link sighed. He held out his hand expectantly and Revali gave him his wing. It was their last resort when all other signs failed, for Link to spell the word in his hand.

He spelled a short word, slow and deliberate. C-U-T-E.

Revali yanked his wing back and began walking to the path Link had walked previously. “I’m not cute,” he spat, trying to smooth back the feathers sticking out on his crest. His insides felt like they were on fire.

Link laughed from behind him, following him up the rocky slope. The further they climbed, the more Revali’s heart raced. This was an opportunity for Link to understand what he had meant to do all this time. He wondered if Link would piece it together himself, or if he would somehow find the courage to explain that he’d never meant to hurt him. At least here, with the water below, Link was safe.

At the ledge, he turned to look at the Hylian. The sunlight was sharp in the late afternoon, it would be setting soon. Revali liked the color it cast on Link’s skin.

“I can take you up higher,” Revali offered.

Link continued to stare at him, an unreadable expression on his face as if maybe he was piecing it together. Then he made the signs for Rito and thing. A Rito thing.

Revali huffed a laugh.

Link smiled, and suddenly grabbed his arm, yanking him towards the edge.

“Oooh no,” Revali growled in amusement and wrapped his wings around Link’s warm body as he fell, taking him down with him. For a blissful moment they laughed, holding each other close.

Then they hit the cool water, abruptly plunged beneath the surface. It was uncomfortable to be submerged, but Revali was more awed and overjoyed that the Hylian had finally gotten him back. And he understood. At least he seemed to.

He had never wanted to kiss him so badly as he did now, seeing Link erupt from the water laughing, the orange sun illuminating his wet skin.

Instead, he left the water, shaking himself off again.

He turned back to Link who was still making his way back to the edge. “Come on, I’ll drop you from the sky this time,” he called back excitedly, unable to contain his child-like giddiness anymore.

Link mounted his back and they flew up over the lake, the sun fully setting now. They didn’t have much time left.

Link’s first dive was impressive, a backflip off of Revali’s back. He shouted the whole way down and Revali couldn't help but laugh.

He also couldn’t help but feel like a bad influence; he’d never known Link to be such a showoff.

He flew down to the water to meet him, hovering over the middle of the lake where Link landed.

Fun, he signed.

“One more, hold your arm up,” Revali smiled down at him.

Link did as he asked and Revali gripped his forearm with his talons. It was an odd angle they hadn’t tried before, but worst case he would just fall back into the water, which was the point anyway. He pumped his wings hard to pull Link up, his foot cramping by the time they made it back into the sky.

This time, just before dropping, he could swear Link winked at him.

And suddenly every apprehension he had about the glider was gone. He didn’t care. He was definitely going to have that glider made for him after all.

➽───────────────❥

At Revali’s request the glider was done in three days, but it took another week for Link to come back. The Rito champion was irritable the entire week, snapping more than usual. The old doubts were back. But he was stubborn, he would see this through.

He buzzed with anticipation on the day of Link’s return, going through the motions of formalities, greeting the princess and waiting for Link to be dismissed. He almost grabbed his hand in his excitement, but held back just in time, clasping his wings behind his back and motioning with his head to the general direction of his hut. Link nodded at him with the small grin he wore when others were watching.

When they made it back to his hut, he was tempted to close up the sides to hide them, though the speculation from his neighbors would likely have been worse. So he settled for sitting on the ground away from the entrance where they could not so easily be spotted.

Link simply followed his lead with a curious expression and sat cross-legged on the rug with him, watching as Revali pulled the glider out from under his low table. He slid it over to Link and said nothing, for a moment wishing he wouldn’t have to say anything, but knowing he should. “It’s um..” he cleared his throat, “It’s for you.”

He folded his wings in his lap and looked down at them, nodding to himself again. That was all he should have to say, really.

Link opened up the folded canvas and inspected it.

After a moment Revali felt a hand on his knee and looked up at him again. Flying? Link asked.

Revali nodded quickly.

A grin stretched across Link’s face before he jumped up.

“Link…” Revali said hesitantly, standing to join him. The Hylian stepped around him and made his way out of the hut onto the boardwalk. “It hasn’t been tested!” Revali called after him, suddenly worried he was going to throw himself to his death.

Link ran to the nearest landing and stopped, Revali jogging to catch up. He was fiddling with it, checking the canopy and where he should put his hands.

Revali looked around to see if anyone was watching. There wasn’t anyone in their immediate vicinity, but prying eyes could be anywhere. In the huts around them, in the boardwalk above.

“I thought maybe we should test it at the lake,” Revali said in a low voice, folding his wings behind his back again.

Link shook his head absentmindedly, still looking at the glider. Then he folded it under one arm and signed a string of words too quickly for Revali to interpret.

“What?”

Link groaned, and then made two simpler signs, clearly exasperated.

You. Catch.

Revali felt flustered again, the feathers on his face pricking up. Was he really that confident in his ability to catch him?

He smoothed his feathers and nodded. “Alright then. Have it your way.” He jumped off of the platform and turned, hovering nearby to watch him, bracing himself.

The Hylian opened the glider again and tested its resistance a few times by running a few steps and stopping, then turning around and doing it again. Revali’s heart raced embarrassingly fast the entire time, expecting him to drop each time he got to the edge.

You threw him off multiple times yourself, idiot, he chided himself.

But those times were an accident. This was purposeful, and he was trusting the gift he had made for him (and his strength, if it came to it).

Finally, Link ran off the edge, and Revali held his breath.

The wind caught the glider and anticlimactically blew him back onto the platform.

Link laughed, and Revali echoed him, coming in to land next to him again.

“Seems like it works. But… how about we go somewhere you can really fly?” Revali asked with a mischievous smile.

➽───────────────❥

Revali flew them to the peak of Cuho mountain, the closest place with a moderately high elevation that wouldn’t require Link to get into snow gear.

Link was excited, jumping off his back as soon as they landed.

He expanded the glider again and looked at him with a wide grin. Then his smile faded, and he closed the glider, tucking it away in a side pocket of his pack. Revali watched with growing concern as he stepped back towards him, almost too close.

“Are you–” he started, before Link suddenly hugged him, his arms low on his midsection due to their height difference. Revali’s insides lit up again, and he warred with himself as to whether he should hug him back, or kiss him, or push him away, and so he did none of it.

Link pulled back and signed, thank you.

“Yes, well,” Revali cleared his throat again, a single traitorous arm resting on Link’s shoulder. “Don’t go boasting, I have a reputation to uphold.”

Link chuckled lightly, not quite making a sound. But he could feel it, with Link so close.

He signed again. And I forgive you.

Revali scoffed and rolled his eyes, but could not help the smile taking hold on his beak. “As if I ever apologize,” he mumbled.

Link chuckled again, then stopped as if noticing something. He pointed at Revali’s abdomen with a confused expression.

Revali craned his neck down to see what he was looking at, just for Link to suddenly place a kiss on his beak.

He’d barely processed the action when Link jumped away from him with a shriek of a laugh, apparently afraid of whatever retaliation was in store.

He’d kissed him. He’d actually kissed him. His fingers brushed the spot in blissful shock, before he snapped back to the moment. Link was running for the cliff’s edge, still laughing.

“Oh you’re going to get it now,” Revali threatened playfully, racing after him.

#revalink week #revalink week 2024 #revali #link #loz link #legend of zelda #breath of the wild #botw #fic #my fic #ao3 writer #fanfic #loz fanfic #legend of zelda fanfic #revalink fic #revalink fanfic #botw fanfic #loz #tloz

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aesteraceae · 7 months

Text

Boiling Over

Pairing: Minho/Chan, Minho & Chan

Rating: Gen

Summary: Chan has a nasty habit of throwing his health to the wind, and when his mind finally cracks under the pressure, Minho is there to help him through it.

Word count: 4.1k

Tags under the cut!

Tags: SFW, Age regression, hurt/comfort, stress relief, Chan is overworking himself as usual, Minho has Things To Say about that, angst, little Bang Chan, Caregiver Lee Minho, stim toys, panic attacks, crying, autistic Bang Chan

Also posted on ao3 here.

Notes: This will be part of a series of Chan age regressing because I am contractually obligated to project on Chan whenever I can. This is also for his birthday. No I'm not 2 weeks late shut UP.

Also, this fic isn't explicitly romantic in any sense beyond Chan calling Minho pretty like once, I wrote it with the implication that they like eachother (bc I'm a minchan truther at heart) but you can 1000% read this fic as platonic with no trouble at all.

Tags: @simpracha @sunnyville36 @toastyseungmo @sstarryyoong @decaffedthoughts @bunnypig18 @xcookiemonsteer

This is not going well.

Chan forces himself not to slam the studio door behind him, slumping down into his desk chair and shoving his hands into his hair.

His entire morning was spent talking with department executives and marketing managers and other producers, all asking him the same question; when will the next title track be ready.

And Chan has had to tell every single one of them, multiple times, that no it isn't finished and yes he's working on it and no he doesn't need any help.

It's almost finished, is the thing. He has the guide, tentative lyrics, he's even shown it to the other members, but he doesn't like it.

He's been doing this a very long time, he knows what a good song sounds like, knows what he's capable of making, and this is so far from his best he's terrified to show it to anyone.

The other members said they liked it, of course, but Chan knows better than to take their words at face value. He doesn't think they'd lie out of malice, of course, but they can all see the way Chan has been... Strung a little tighter than usual, lately.

He wouldn't put it past them to just say the song is good to not anger him or stress him out further. And he can't even blame them, really— if anyone said anything about the song to him right now, positive or otherwise, he doesn't know what he'll do.

Break something, probably. Or cry.

He wants to do both right now, but he shoves the urges away and opens up the editing software. He grabs his headphones a bit too hard and knocks over their stand, and he just watches it clatter to the floor, loudly.

He leaves it there.

Maybe kicks it a little, just for good measure.

It's probably not good to let this anger simmer underneath the surface like this, especially if one of the others comes to check on him, but he doesn't have time to go blow off steam in the gym.

Instead, he puts his headphones on and opens the file, shoving his anger into a box to be dealt with later.

· · ────────── ·𖥸· ────────── · ·

Chan's anger never lingers, at least not when it's because of stress.

By that night, nearing 2 in the morning, all of his anger has fizzled out into bone-deep exhaustion.

His ears ache under the headphones, but he left his earbuds in the dorms so he ignores the pain. Similarly, something in his back keeps sending sharp pains throughout his body every time he shifts wrong, and it's unpleasant, but it fades after a moment so he doesn't bother worrying about it.

He's listening to a new version of the track when he feels the anger starting to bubble up again, except it's decided to show itself in tears this time rather than violence.

He will not cry over a song, he won't.

But it's horrible. It feels like every change he makes somehow makes the song worse, even the tricks he's relied on in the past. He's searched for inspiration, looked at old songs, even rewritten entire sections but it's still wrong.

He claws the headphones off and presses his hands into his eyes until bright colors flash behind them, forcing the tears back. The burn of it forces his brain to reconnect with his body, and he realizes that he hurts all over.

How long has he been sitting here?

Shakily, he reaches for his phone.

There's a few messages in the group chat, an email from the project designer that he swiftly ignores, and 3 missed calls from Minho.

Fuck.

He's trying to calculate the math of how long he's been in here and how he missed his ringtone 3 times in a row when someone knocks on the door.

Chan considers not answering, pretending the room is empty. He can't let anyone else see him in this state, he cant. tears are clinging to his lashes, he's in pain, and he doesn't even remember the last time he slept.

There's a moment when he thinks it will work, if he stays very still, but then the door clicks open.

Minho pushes into the room, placing his key card neatly back into his bag.

He looks like he just got out of the shower, hair still damp and fluffy, cheeks still a bit flushed from the heat. He's pretty, because Minho always is, and Chan almost says so before he gets a hold of himself.

"Minho!" He says, instead, running hands through his hair both to tame the rat's nest it must be and to hide how wet his eyes are.

Fuck, his back hurts. When did just moving his arms over his head start to hurt this badly?

"Chan. It's like 2 in the morning, why are you still working?"

Minho has that disapproving look in his eyes, dark and unquestionable. He must be here to drag Chan back to the dorms, but he can't go back yet, not with the song like this.

"Oh, you know how it is. I, uh, got in the zone, I guess."

Minho shoots him an unimpressed look and reaches into his bag, pulling out a bottle of water.

He must have grabbed it from the breakroom downstairs, and the tiniest sliver of affection breaks through the panic buzzing through his veins.

He doesn't wait for Chan to take the bottle, just uncaps it and forces it into his hand. Chan knows better than to fight when Minho gets like this, so he drinks.

And... Fuck.

The water feels like heaven in his mouth, cool and refreshing and perfect. His head relents in its pounding, and he slumps down into the chair.

Minho passes him another bottle and takes the empty one, and Chan doesn't have to look at him to see his disapproving look.

"How long have you been working in here?" Minho asks, picking up his headphone stand from across the room. Huh, he'd almost forgotten about that.

"Couple hours," He lies, trying and failing to figure out the real answer. For some reason he can't wrap his brain around the numbers, the passage of time — he isn't sure when he even got here, just that it was daytime... Maybe morning? Noon?

"Bullshit. None of us have even seen you today, and you missed dinner. What's going on?"

Chan ducks under the anger in Minho's voice, trying to hide the tremor in his hands.

"Nothing's going on," He tries, "I promise I'm fine. I grabbed something from downstairs a little while ago." It's a flimsy lie, and he knows it doesn't land the moment he finishes speaking.

Minho just clicks his tongue and walks over to the trashcan in the corner, perfectly empty. The studio is immaculate, no trace of a wrapper or package.

Minho is silent for a long moment, only speaking when Chan starts to squirm, practically burning alive with the awkwardness and disapproval. He doesn't know why it's bothering him so much, but Minho looks upset, upset with Chan, and it almost hurts worse than his back.

"I thought we agreed not to lie to eachother, Chan." Minho finally says, and there's a hint of pain, there, under the anger.

Chan honest to God whines, trying to curl in on himself and stopping with a wince. He doesn't want to lie, especially not to Minho. He doesn't want to be a disappointment, doesn't want to be bad.

Minho doesn't like being lied to, he hates it, they've had so many arguments over little white lies that Chan or the others didn't think we're important but hurt Minho deeply. Chan knows Minho hates being lied to, but here he is doing it, without a second thought.

He's horrible.

"M' sorry," He mumbles, twisting his fingers into his jeans. He's being bad, and Minho is disappointed in him, and he has every right to be.

Part of Chan is screaming to correct the issue, but a far stronger part wants to sit in this discomfort, squirm under Minho's pained and angry gaze. He deserves it, Chan thinks. It's a fitting enough punishment, this gnawing ache in his chest that begs for praise forced to receive the opposite.

It hurts, but Chan deserves it for being bad, for hurting Minho.

... Wait.

Chan blinks, vision refocusing on a spot on the wall. Being bad?

No. No no no no no-

"I'm really okay," He says, a little bit frantic, heart rate picking up, because this cannot be happening.

The only reason he'd be thinking like that, thinking he deserves punishment or that he was being bad is if he was slipping, and that cannot happen with Minho in here.

"I'll be back home in an hour, okay?" He says, spinning in the chair so he doesn't have to look at Minho. Something about him being here is making Chan slip, hard, And maybe looking away would solve the issue. He just has to get Minho to leave, then he can handle this on his own and everything will be fine.

"No, you've been here long enough. I'm taking you home."

No.

"Min, I'm not-"

Minho just holds up a hand, pulling Chan's chair away from the desk and back to face him.

"This isn't a discussion. I won't let you weasel your way out of it, either— you've been in here for at least nine hours, that's enough. You need food and sleep."

"I'm fine. I'll grab something from downstairs, alright? But I really need to get this finished."

Minho doesn't answer— he just reaches over the desk to save the file. Chan doesn't realize what he's doing until his hand shifts to the power button, clicking off his laptop.

"Minho!" Chan snaps, trying to swat his hands away, but Minho just closes the laptop and shoves it into his bag, zipping it up tight.

"Are you seriously— Minho, give that back!"

Minho ignores him, grasping his arm and pulling. Chan stumbles out of the chair, and any other day it would be perfectly fine, but his back immediately protests at the movement.

He collapses down to his knees, trying to breathe through the pain and keep himself from crying. He will not cry in front of Minho, he won't.

"Chan? Hey, what's wrong?" Minho is crouched in front of him, anger entirely forgotten in favor of worry.

And Chan tries, he really does, but his back hurts and he knows he's already crying, and he can feel his grip on everything sensible slipping away.

"Leave," He begs, even though he knows it's futile. Minho won't leave him like this because he's a good friend, and he cares, and right now that care is going to burn Chan alive.

"I'm not going anywhere, Chan. I'm right here. You're safe, I've got you."

Chan whines against his will, listing forward, further into Minho's arms. He takes him easily, sitting completely on the floor to pull Chan into his lap. And Chan goes, because Minho feels so much bigger than him right now. He doesn't stand a chance at resisting, and he wants to sit in Minho's lap, wants to cry into his shoulder and know that the world won't end once he's done.

"Min..." He mumbles, wet and pathetic and sad, and Minho makes a noise like a wounded animal.

"Come here, Chan." He urges, even as Chan tucks his head into Minho's neck.

He puts a hand on Chan's neck, gently playing with the hair curling there, and the other slips underneath his shirt to rub massaging circles into the small of his back.

Chan doesn't even stand a chance— he drops so hard and so fast that he has to blink his vision back into focus.

His eyes slip right back closed, though, because Minho is still massaging him, both his neck and back, steadily loosening the knots and aches there.

It's good, it's blissful, and Chan lets his mind go entirely blank.

· · ────────── ·𖥸· ────────── · ·

The thing with Chan is that he never knows when to quit.

Well, that's not quite true. Most of the time, he's perfectly happy to quit, when necessary; scrapping a song or going back to the foundations of a dance, but sometimes, like now, he gets so caught up in finishing something that he can't even fathom the idea of stopping.

Minho knew Chan was spiraling, he’s known since this morning when Chan refused breakfast and left the dorms in a hurry for a meeting. He knew when he didn’t respond in the group chat, he knew when Chan missed three of his calls in a row.

Guilt settles deep in Minho's stomach as he holds Chan, shuddering and shaking and hurting. He talked himself out of dragging Chan back for dinner because he thought he was worrying too much, but now he cant help but think that he didn’t worry enough. There are headphone marks around his ears, for god's sake.

“You’re okay, I’ve got you. Just relax, Chan, I’ve got you.” And god, Minho didn’t think it was possible to feel fondness and fear at the same time, but here he is. Chan nuzzles further into his neck, trembling all over, and Minho has absolutely no idea what to do. Chan rarely cries in front of them, and even if he does the very last thing he wants is to be comforted.

It makes Minho’s chest hurt, sometimes, how insanely solitary Chan gets when he’s upset, but this is almost worse. He’s so far gone that Chan cant help but cling to him. Minho blinks tears back.

“Let’s get you to the couch, yeah? Come on, Channie, it’ll be more comfy there.” Chan whines, unwilling to move, so Minho does something a bit stupid.

He shifts Chan just enough that he can loop his arm underneath his legs, settling the other around his back.

Chan is heavy, but not too heavy for Minho to carry a few feet. He settles them back onto the couch, lying down so Chan can stretch his back a bit. The new position seems to switch something in Chan, and his sobs quiet, somewhat. He slips one of his arms up to cup Minho’s neck, like he’s… Oh. Like he’s feeling his heartbeat. His ear is pressed right over his heart, as well.

God, Minho is going to explode from all of this sympathy one day.

“That’s it,” He soothes, “I'm here. Feel my heartbeat? Try and breathe with me, okay? Can you do that for me?” The words come easy — Years of helping the other members through panic and anxiety attacks make things like this nearly second nature. In any other scenario Minho might feel awkward about speaking to Chan like this — not condescending, exactly, but something akin to it — but right now, anything else feels like a cardinal sin. Chan needs softness, right now; he needs a gentle voice to guide him, to remind him that its okay for him to relax.

It takes him a while, maybe 10 minutes, to completely match Minho’s breathing, but he’s so determined that it's almost cute. His voice hiccups every now and then and Minho can see the frustration on his face, but he just tries again with the same determination.

Minho is besotted. He knows it, and he doesn't really try to hide the love in his eyes as he looks down at Chan, whispering sweet encouragements into his ear as his breathing steadily evens out.

“Good job, Chan,” he whispers, when the last of the tension drains out of his shoulders. Chan hums and shifts to look up at him, eyes wide and glossy and vulnerable, and Minho forgets how to breathe.

“I was good?” He whispers, voice rough from crying but still somehow higher than normal, so sweet that Minho has to take a long, deep breath before he can respond. “So good. Look, you’re breathing smooth again, right?”

Chan nods, settling his head back against Minho’s chest, and Minho almost feels bad for being relieved, but Christ. That look, his eyes, so trusting and soft and loving, its—

It’s a lot.

It’s good.

“Breathing with Hyung,” Chan says, sweet, almost sing-song, and Minho…

Hm.

Minho starts to pet Chan's hair again, smiling when he melts against his chest, and takes advantage of it to think.

Minho knows a lot of things. He’s researched a lot of things, either for Jisung or Felix or Jeongin, ways to deal with stress or handle panic attacks or sensory overloads, anything he might need to make sure he knew what to do if one of the members needed him.

This… Minho thinks he knows what this is.

It would make sense, really. Chan joined the company at 13, barely a teenager and still very much a child, put into a stress-filled environment in a new country alone. It would make perfect sense for Chan to cope with that stress by regressing into a younger age, where he wouldn't have to think about training or producing.

That guilt pokes at him again — Chan has been stressing over this song for ages, and Minho knew, but he thought Chan could handle it, or at least that Chan would ask Jisung or Changbin for help.

None of that mattered now, though. Now Chan needs him, and they can talk about asking for help later.

“Hyung?”

Minho has to bite his lip to keep from cooing at how cute Chan sounds, schooling his expression into something calm and attentive.

"Yeah, baby?"

Chan takes a moment to preen at the nickname, but takes a deep breath and sobers. Minho can't help but frown— the serious expression, while familiar, doesn't seem to suit Chan, right now.

"I'm sorry for lying. 'was mean. I know you don' like it, but I was scared. Sorry."

Minho's heart breaks.

A million microscopic pieces, each and every one sucked into Chan's eyes, big and just the slightest bit teary.

"Oh, Darling. It's okay, I understand. It's okay to be scared." He bites his lip before continuing, but... well. It did hurt, and Minho would only feel worse about it if he didn't even express it.

"But, baby, in the future, you can just tell me what's wrong. I promise, I won't judge or be angry with you for telling the truth, okay?"

Chan nods, crawling up slightly to tuck his head underneath Minho's chin.

"I will, promise."

Minho can't help himself, he presses a soft kiss against Chan's hair. "Thank you for apologizing, baby. You're very sweet."

Chan is silent for a moment, and then—

"Chan?" Minho yelps, gasping a little, because Chan is... sucking on his collarbone?

He jerks back, already babbling out apologies, but Minho pets his cheek to soothe him. "It's okay, it's okay, I was just startled, baby, that's all."

Chan quiets, staring down at his hands in his lap, and there's something in his eyes, a hint of awareness, and... well. Maybe it's a bit selfish, but Minho doesn't want Chan to come out of this headspace just yet. He seems relaxed, less worn down by racing thoughts, more willing to be honest and ask for what he needs.

And Minho wants to provide. He wants to keep helping Chan like this, and maybe it does make him selfish, but Chan needs this, and Minho won't deny him.

"Here, can you hop off of me for a moment, little one?" The nickname does the trick— Chan whines a little and backs up so Minho can move, leaning against the couch like he can't sit up on his own. It's adorable, and Minho moves quickly so he can hold Chan again.

He brought his bag up here because he suspected that Chan would need some things— water, earbuds, painkillers— but there's also a little pocket full of stuff for Seungmin. Noise-canceling headphones, a few stim toys, and what Minho's after now, chewable toys.

Headphones are probably a bad idea now so he leaves those, but he takes out everything else and spreads them out in his hands.

The chewable toys are brand new— they're in the bag for emergencies, but Seungmin is just as overly prepared as he is so they're hardly ever needed — so he opens one of the bags and offers it to Chan.

"You can bite and suck on this for now, okay?"

Chan takes it tenderly, looking awestruck. "But... this is yours?"

Minho puts the other toys on the side table and sits beside him again, suppressing a smile when Chan immediately burrows back into his side.

"They're for whoever needs them, and I think you need them right now. I can... get you something else later, once we've talked about it, but if you just want something to do with your mouth, that should help."

Minho adds a few more things to his list of Things To Talk to Chan About When He's Big Again. Pacifiers, maybe, and Minho specifically caring for him, definitely.

Chan eyes the toy warily for a moment, like he doesn't believe that he can actually have it, but eventually he bites down on it.

His eyes light up.

He doesn't really chew it so much as he sucks on it, but his eyes droop a little and his shoulders slump.

Maybe Minho doesn't entirely suck at this, at least.

"There we go. Is that better?"

Chan nods, eyes slipping fully closed.

"Good. Come on, I'll put on some music, how about that?"

Chan perks up at that, slipping the toy out of his mouth to babble, "Can you sing? Please, Hyung? I'll be good!"

Minho blinks, "You don't have to be good." It comes out without his permission, but he doesn't backtrack. "I don't want you to worry about being good or not disobeying. You're perfect, Chan."

Chan stares at him for a beat, and then he breaks. He whines, high in the back of his throat, and tears flood over his cheeks in waves.

"Whoa, baby, baby, it's okay," Minho is on him in an instant, pulling Chan into his arms and rocking them like he did before.

"M' not, not perfect, not-" He cuts himself off with a painful-sounding hiccup, and Minho's heart aches.

"Shh, little one, it's okay." He says, growing frantic, because it isn't working. Chan is trembling, and instead of hugging Minho back he's covering his face, sobbing into his hands instead of Minho's chest. This is different, this is new, and Minho needs a different approach.

So. He sings.

It starts out shaky, because he's on the verge of tears himself and hasn't sung at all today, but he settles into it easily.

It's a song Chan wrote for him months ago, unreleased because he hasn't had the time to record it. It's short, unfinished, and Minho prays that it'll work.

He's on the second chorus before he notices any change, and it feels like the first sip of water in a desert. Chan shudders, cries quieting, finally tucking his head into Minho's neck.

He tightens his grip, remembering that Chan liked tight hugs, and he breathes.

He sings through the end of the song and Chan finally stops sobbing, just tiny little whimpers against Minho's chest, and he leans them back against the couch.

"I've got you," He murmurs, thinking of the first lines to Chan's favorite song, "I've got you, baby."

· · ────────── ·𖥸· ────────── · ·

Chan wakes up a few hours later, cheeks itchy with dried tears and more relaxed than he's felt in years.

He's... hm. He's lying on Minho's chest.

Minho is asleep, long eyelashes fluttering as his eyelids shift, and Chan can't help but settle back against his chest.

Minho hums, readjusting his hand to hold Chan a little more securely.

"Go back to sleep, little one," He murmurs, voice thick with sleep and fondness.

Jesus. He hasn't slipped up like that in front of someone since he was a trainee.

Chan flushes pink, hazy memories flooding back. He remembers crying, a lot, calling Minho hyung...

Chan can feel mortification creeping up on him, but Minho must notice that he isn't relaxing, because he tightens his grip. One of his hands comes up to hold the back of Chan's head, guiding his ear over Minho's chest.

The steady thump-thump thump-thump of Minho's heartbeat makes Chan melt, against all his better wishes.

"...thank you, hyung."

#stray kids #dahlia writes #bang chan #lee minho #skz #skz fluff #minchan #this was a bitch and 3 quarters to post tumblr my beloathed

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yaku-soba · 3 years

Text

all roads lead home

༶•┈┈ general m.list

༶•┈┈ tsukishima kei x gn!reader | angst with a hopeful ending :”)

tags/warnings: language, childhood friends, they’re exes but it gets better i promise, almost all the karasuno boys stay on in miyagi

word count: 3.7k

a/n: the edited version of an old fic i wrote for a followers event on my old blog :”) the prompt was i’ll name this city after you :D i hope yall enjoy this!!

synopsis: You want (an apology, an explanation) to forget, and to get on the next train back to Tokyo, never mind that this is your first time visiting Miyagi in two years. Tsukishima wants to quit his shitty job as an overworked barista (at your favourite cafe, as if the night shifts weren’t tormenting enough). Tadashi just wants the three of you to have lunch together again.

»»------------- ------------- ------------- ¤ ------------- ------------- -------------««

The sun is setting when you step off the train and onto a platform that you haven’t laid your eyes on in nearly two years.

(It’s been a lifetime.)

The vending machine that you used to rap your knuckles against in the hopes of knocking free an extra drink is still in the corner, as dirty and forlorn as you remember. It’s oddly reassuring - in a liminal, jarring sort of way - like you’ve stepped off the train and into the past, like you’re eighteen again.

“Y/n!” Tadashi looks much the same as he had when you’d graduated high school - smile maybe a little brighter, hands a little larger. Heart still as huge as it had been when you’d left.

He holds his arms out and you jump, throwing yours around his neck. Tadashi wheezes at the sudden weight, and you laugh as his hands wrap around your waist to crush you to him by the small of your back, barely managing to keep the both of you upright.

“It’s nice to see you again, Y/n.” He smiles earnestly, and you let go of his shoulders to pull at his cheeks, cooing. “Hey, stop that,” he whines, and when you refuse, he eyes you warningly, “I’ll drop you!”

You stick your tongue out at him childishly, but relent. He sets you back on the ground gently, and you turn back to pick up the bag you’d dropped.

“Come on,” he says, “let’s go home.”

»»------------- ------------- ------------- ¤ ------------- ------------- -------------««

The peace doesn’t last.

You really should have known, with the way Tadashi has been sneaking glances at you on the way out of the station. You’ve known him long enough to know what that expression means - he looks at you like he has something to say, but isn’t sure if he should, and that’s perfectly fine with you.

You’re starting to think you just might make it all the way home when a corner of the night sky chips and falls away, cracking right down the middle as your best friend says softly, “You should go home.”

You freeze. You know, instantly, what - who - he’s talking about.

The betrayal stings the back of your throat like bile.

You look away, fixing your eyes angrily - you can’t help it, Tadashi knows that you hate talking about this, about him, but he’d asked anyway - on the dried leaf skittering across the abandoned playground, at the mercy of the wind.

“I am home,” you point out uncooperatively, feeling childish, “that’s why I’m back in this shithole.”

“That’s not what I meant,” your best friend says into the night air, still in that annoyingly gentle way of his that makes you want to scream into the empty streets of this empty town. You wait, an open heart raw in the world, but he says nothing more.

(Two years later, and Tadashi still reads you as easily as he had when the two of you were six and tracing the lines on your palms. Dancing on the edge of a cliff but stopping just short of falling over.)

“Y/n?” Shit, of course you’d wander into him on your first night back, the universe has a personal vendetta against you, how could you have forgotten.

Next to you, Tadashi has gone very, very silent. And still. A little like a mouse stuck between a cat and a snake; relieved to have been momentarily saved from the clutches of one, newly worried about both, and too afraid of drawing attention to run away.

You’d laugh, if it weren’t for the rage rising in the back of your throat like bile, jagged like a broken promise.

“Y/n,” the bastard behind you repeats, and the sound of your name leaving his tongue is nothing short of heartbreak, “I didn’t know you were back.”

Slowly, you turn. Tsukishima looks just as you remember - stupid glasses on a stupid face, his hair longer but no less beautiful. As aggravating as he is breathtaking.

(Something in your chest - no, not your heart - aches. You reach down and crush it between your fingers the way you used to crumple the torn pages of your notebook into little balls, to throw them at Tadashi, or-)

“Tsukishima,” your voice is even, good, “I don’t see why it’s any of your business.”

He flinches, a minute action you would have missed if you didn’t already know him better than the old callouses on your palm. Good, you think again more vindictively - except his eyes are widening just slightly in shock, two gold pools like shadowed streetlamps, and suddenly you’re eighteen again.

You’re eighteen, and in love, and you’re blind enough to say, I would do anything for you, I would scrape my knees on metaphorical sidewalks everyday for the rest of my life if I had to, just to make you smile.

You’re eighteen, and you’re foolish enough to think, I would give you the world if you asked, surely you’d let me have your heart; your tiny hometown, your little safehouse.

You're eighteen, and you’re in love - and then you realize he’s not, not the way you are, and you fall on your empty sidewalks because it hurts and it tears you apart, but most of all you hate that you still care.

You hated being eighteen.

“If that’s all you wanted to say,” you continue coldly, “I’m leaving.”

You turn on your heel, avoiding Tadashi’s eyes. You won’t make him choose - you can’t do that to him.

Tsukishima says nothing as you stalk away down the empty streets and towards the house you grew up in.

(Somehow, you’re disappointed.

You tell yourself it’s because it’s been a long day.)

“Y/n, wait!” Tadashi calls, and you lengthen your strides angrily even as you hear him puffing up the slight incline behind you. “Y/n!”

“What,” you hiss, stopping short. You don’t turn - you don’t want to check if Tsukishima’s still there.

(You’ve seen enough of his back to last you a lifetime.)

“Are you okay?” Your best friend asks, and you look at him in disbelief.

“I thought you were on his side,” you say dumbly, before realizing that that’s a road that leads to ugly places.

“I’m not on anyone’s side,” Tadashi says diplomatically before you can try to apologize, “I just want us - the three of us - to have lunch together again.”

You scoff, and start walking, adjusting your bag. “Sure, I’ll text Hinata, I’m sure he won’t mind as long as we agree to volleyball practice with him first.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Tadashi says for the second time tonight, this time with a hint of frustration, “and you know it.”

“I do,” you acknowledge, “the same way you know that I want nothing to do with the four-eyed bastard.”

“You liked his glasses,” he tells you indignantly, catching up with you easily, “you used to steal them-”

“Liked, used to,” you snarl as the taut string of your patience finally snaps, “as in past tense. Leave if you’re just going to torment me. We both know I’ll get enough of it once I’m back home.”

Tadashi falls silent at that. A small part of you feels guilty, till you remember that it’s not your fault that he’d chosen to drag up old, unpleasant memories from beyond the grave, where you’d buried them.

“Do you want me to stay for dinner?” He asks finally. An olive branch.

You throw him a tense smile. “If you’d like.”

“Okay,” he breathes, and it’s like you’re looking at six year-old Tadashi again - young, painfully innocent, apologetic. “Okay, I’d like to. It’s been two years, after all.”

»»------------- ------------- ------------- ¤ ------------- ------------- -------------««

(You still think of him.

You could be baking in your kitchen in your apartment in Tokyo and all you can see is the curling steam of buns he bought at Sakanoshita store after practice. You could be walking past an electronics store and you’d find yourself looking at the TV screens, half-wondering if they replay the matches from a no-name high school in a far-away part of Japan.

They never do.

It doesn’t stop you from seeing in your mind’s eye the surge of a block, the curve of taped fingers.)

»»------------- ------------- ------------- ¤ ------------- ------------- -------------««

Because the universe hates you, you run into Tsukishima again, just a day into your brief return to Miyagi.

Walking through the glass doors of what had once been your favourite cafe and not paying attention to anything beyond one feet of you as you text Hinata that you’re there early, you don’t immediately notice that the barista has frozen in place.

You look up.

Tsukishima is staring at you, a carton of milk in one hand, the other resting on the blender. Even against the battered machine, his fingers are painfully elegant.

(Bandaged fingers against red and green and white. Pale fingers entwined with your own. A flash of memory, too painful to be anything but a curse.)

“Y/n?” He says, and it’s too much, it sounds so much like the way he’d said your name when you were seventeen, when you were eighteen, that your heart stutters and does a few flips on its way up your throat. A bad habit you never quite managed to get rid of.

You turn around, and walk back the way you’d came.

The bell tinkles mockingly as the door swings shut behind you.

“Y/n?” You flinch, but it’s just Hinata. “I knew it! It really is you, Y/n!” Hinata, bless him, beams. Then, as his eyes fall to your white-knuckled grip on your phone, he asks, “Is something wrong?”

Nothing, you want to say, let’s go for brunch, shall we? Instead, what comes out is, “You didn’t tell me he worked here.” It ends up sounding a tad accusatory. You only regret it a little.

“Oh, Tsukishima?” He asks casually, and you barely resist the urge to flinch at the name, “Sorry, I forgot.” He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, and - it looks genuine. Hinata’s a terrible liar; you’d know if he was pulling a fast one on you.

You sigh. It’s not even eleven in the morning, and you want to go home. “It’s fine,” you reassure him, even though it’s very much not, “let’s just find somewhere else to eat.”

»»------------- ------------- ------------- ¤ ------------- ------------- -------------««

“Do you have to leave?” He’s leaning against the door to your room, but there’s no relaxation in his posture. With his arms crossed and his brows furrowed, his face shut like a window screen, all Tsukishima looks is aggressive.

Something about the way he says have to, like it’s something unreasonable and selfish that you can’t let go of, grates on your nerves.

(Sometimes, when Tsukishima gets like this, he makes you feel small. More childish than child-like.)

“It’s a good opportunity for me,” you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve said those six words, in that order, “and it’s a scholarship, too.” You can’t quite keep the irritation out of your voice.

This is good for you, why can’t he just see that?

“Oh, so you’re one of those,” your boyfriend says, and there’s something ugly in his sneer that has you recoiling, “just going to-to up and leave, aren’t you? Build a new life for yourself in the fancy city now that you’re too good for this nowhere town in a no-name prefecture?”

You frown, properly frustrated now. “I’m not severing ties,” you say, “I know being in different prefectures will be tough, but it’s something that we can work around.”

You hate that it almost sounds like you’re pleading. You shouldn’t have to.

“We’re still in the same country - it’ll be easier to visit and call each other, with no time-zone differences in the way.”

Tsukishima laughs. It’s as sharp as the broken glass of a shattered photo frame. “Yeah, like I don’t know how these stories go.”

»»------------- ------------- ------------- ¤ ------------- ------------- -------------««

Tsukishima sighs as eight p.m finally hits and he can turn the open sign on the door to closed.

He goes through the routine that comes with working the last shift mindlessly - wiping down the tables and counters, pushing the chairs back into their neat places.

(He wonders how long you’ll be in Miyagi.)

The trash bag crinkles as he ties it up, dragging it behind him to the back door.

He’s only just hefted it into the dumpster specifically for un-recyclables when someone punches him in the face. Hard.

His glasses go flying, his annoyance skyrockets, and he barks, “What the hell?”

“I should be saying that!” His assaulter yells right back at him, “What the heck, Tsukishima?”

At the familiar voice, he stops, a retort on his tongue.

Tsukishima squints, and the person who’d punched him shifts, hair glowing orange in the flickering light of a half-dead streetlamp.

Ah, it’s the annoying, tiny boy.

“What do you want,” Tsukishima says as flatly as he can muster, even as his stomach sinks and he knows, he knows what Hinata is here to talk about. “Hinata.”

Hinata only grows more upset. Then he squares his shoulders and says, cold and unforgiving, “You didn’t tell Y/n.”

Tsukishima’s blood freezes in his veins. Suddenly, it’s the last set and the last point against Shiratorizawa, and the air is so thick and the eyes so cutting that he can’t move.

“You didn’t apologize.” Hinata steps forward till they’re chest-to-chest, and Tsukishima doesn’t need his glasses to know that Hinata’s eyes are accusatory and angry. “Y/n came back and you still didn’t apologize.”

I know, he thinks, I know I fucked up. Tsukishima isn’t dumb; even if Hinata hadn’t said it, he knows he should have gone after you last night.

(He should have gone after you two years ago.)

He thinks Hinata already knows what he’s feeling. It’s not a pleasant thought.

Tsukishima deals with this the only way he knows how, even as a voice that sounds like yours, small and heartbroken, says, don’t do it, not again.

“It’s not your business,” he snaps, tone disdainful enough to cover his regret, and it reminds him of your words; it sinks into his flesh like a knife cutting into pliant bread, it tugs him apart like a million tiny hooks, “don’t stick your nose into things you don’t understand.”

“I understand enough,” Hinata hisses right back, “to know that you hurt Y/n and that you never bothered to apologize.”

He pauses before going in for the kill. “And I know that you know that Y/n knows that it was complete bullshit. All you’ve managed to do is hurt the both of you.” Cocking his head slightly, he adds, the edge to his voice mostly gone, “And Tadashi-kun. All of us, really.”

Tsukishima opens his mouth to argue, but - he doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know what he can say, because nothing Hinata has said is wrong.

It’s not surprising - Tsukishima has known all of this for a very long time. He’d been deliberately ignoring it in the hopes that it would gather dust and fade into some distant corner of his mind.

I’m just as much of a coward as I was two years ago, he thinks, and he still remembers the way your tears had caught the sun that terrible day in your bedroom, he remembers turning away so he didn’t have to look at the promise he’d broken.

Hinata sighs, and trudges in the direction Tsukishima’s glasses had flown in, bending to rummage about on the ground.

Tsukishima takes this brief moment of quiet to get his feelings under control before his body decides to do something uncooperative and ridiculous. Like leaking tears.

“Don’t break things you don’t intend to fix,” Hinata says into the silence as he hands Tsukishima his glasses. The barbed words he’d been trying to find die on his tongue. He slips his glasses on just to have something to do with his hands, and immediately wishes he’d just stayed half-blind instead.

Hinata’s eyes aren’t angry, or even disgusted. They’re disappointed, and that makes everything so much worse.

Tsukishima loses control of his body. He opens his mouth, closes it.

What could he even say? It’s not Hinata that he owes an apology to.

“Thanks,” he says instead. Hinata nods and smiles.

(“Y/n misses you,” Hinata says later, as they’re walking down the street. He offers no elaboration, but it’s enough.)

»»------------- ------------- ------------- ¤ ------------- ------------- -------------««

“I’m sorry,” Tadashi says as the last whistle for your train blows and Tsukishima still isn’t here, “you know how Tsukki is on the weekends, he might have slept in-”

“Till four in the afternoon?” You raise a brow. Tadashi’s mouth snaps shut, his face stuttering, and you sigh. He shouldn’t be apologizing.

“It’s fine,” you say, as you step onto the train. You take your heart into your hands and rip it apart like a party favour.

Tadashi, and the rest of the Karasuno team, waves at you long after the doors have shut and the train departed.

You watch them through the window till they fade into shadows into specks into sky, and you know that you won’t be coming back for a long time.

»»------------- ------------- ------------- ¤ ------------- ------------- -------------««

You’re only in Miyagi for the weekend.

It’s been nice, seeing everyone again. You’d even had dinner with the rest of the team.

(Tsukishima hadn’t been there.)

But the weekend has come to a close, and now it’s just you and Tadashi on the platform again. You experience a dizzying sense of deja vu.

“Will you visit again?” Your best friend asks, and you tear your gaze from the tracks to meet his eyes.

(You know what Tadashi is really asking.)

“Maybe,” you answer after a pause, “you��re my friend, after all. And I won’t put it past Hinata to get lost in Tokyo.”

Tadashi smiles in understanding.

You feel terrible. All you’ve been giving him is compromises.

“I’m sorry,” you say finally, glancing to the old vending machine on the opposite platform out of habit, “but I just-”

“He misses you,” Tadashi cuts in, “and I think he wants to apologize.”

His words take you aback. Then, “He wants to apologize,” you repeat, and it’s like you’re eighteen again, “but Tsukishima’s too proud for it, isn’t he?”

“Tsukki’s changed,” Tadashi mumbles, “maybe next time-”

“Y/n!” The both of you turn at the voice.

The breath rushes out of your lungs. A boy with hair like sunlight and eyes like gold coins catches his, bent over with his hands on his knees, a glowing figure in the middle of a dreary platform.

»»------------- ------------- ------------- ¤ ------------- ------------- -------------««

For you, Tsukishima has always been synonymous with Miyagi.

Miyagi with the pork buns, with the school full of crows. The prefecture with the hills and the mountains, the small stores and marts run by ex-volleyball players.

Miyagi, your hometown, where the sky above and the grass below and the people beside you had witnessed you asking a boy for the second button of his gakuran at graduation. Your little safehouse of dreams dreamt of flight.

Tsukishima was the boy with the gakuran whose second button you had wanted. He’d been the boy with the glasses you’d hated on anyone else but him, the boy who had dreamt of the endless blue with his feet still on the ground.

He’s the boy you see in every empty, half-lit street at midnight, and behind every fading sign. The lamps in every lit house become his eyes, golden like the light of a possibly-dead star, and every window reflects the shine of his glasses. Like a haunting - a boy becomes a town becomes a memory.

»»------------- ------------- ------------- ¤ ------------- ------------- -------------««

“What do you want?” You ask when it becomes clear that Tsukishima isn’t going to break the silence. “My train’s coming soon.”

(Tsukishima has always been Miyagi to you.

You don’t really want the train to come. Not when you’re finally about to get a goodbye two years overdue.)

“I’m sorry,” the boy with the glasses that you had liked, the boy with the gakuran whose second button you had held in your palm like he’d held your heart, says finally. “I was afraid.”

He doesn’t say what of. You already know, and for now, it’s enough that he’s here at all.

“You were too proud,” you tell him softly, “I was willing to be afraid together.”

This isn’t anything new either. Tsukishima isn’t dumb. He must have known.

“Did you regret it?” You ask as the train pulls into the station.

The boy who is Miyagi to you smiles. “I’m glad you got the scholarship.” His eyes are bright. His hair is a little longer, now.

You step forward as the last whistle blows in warning, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

You turn, getting onto the train with a backwards wave.

The doors close.

The boy who is pork buns and dimly lit streets holds up a hand even as he fades into the distance, joined by a shorter silhouette.

They get smaller and smaller until they’re shadows, then specks, then nothing but sky.

»»------------- ------------- ------------- ¤ ------------- ------------- -------------««

For you, Miyagi has always been a boy.

Maybe it shouldn’t have been - there’s Tadashi, after all, and your senpais.

You tear your safehouse down brick by brick. You hand one to everyone you’ve ever talked to in Miyagi, to everyone you’ve ever loved.

Tsukishima is joined by Tadashi, and the homeroom teacher who’d confiscated most of the balled-up notes passed between the three of you in class. You add Hinata, Tanaka, Nishinoya, Sugawara; you build a volleyball court and see crows in the sky.

Miyagi is Tsukishima is Karasuno is volleyballs is the sting of skinned knees on dimly-lit streets.

(Tsukishima’s contact is still saved in your phone. You had never been able to bring yourself to delete it.

You think about your next holiday break. You think about the extra shifts at your part-time job you’ll have to take in order to afford the train tickets.)

You miss Miyagi. You’re relieved that you’re allowed to admit to yourself that you miss Miyagi, now.

»»------------- ------------- ------------- ¤ ------------- ------------- -------------««

as always, likes and reblogs are appreciated!! :D

#haikyuu x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #haikyuucreations #tsukishima kei #haikyuu!!#kyouka writes #see it all in bloom

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shadowdianne · 3 years

Text

Author Self-Interview

tagged by @delirious-comfort

Name: Dianne full penname ShadowDianne or ShadowSelene, gods know I bothered quite a lot of people with the double pennaming back at A03. Some others use Dia. I will basically answer to any variation of the penname.

Fandoms: Could be a smartass and say all the fandoms I've written for but let's be honest; It was SwanQueen, Princess Rover and I guess some SuperCorp/SuperCat

Where do you post: AO3 and FFN but I’ve stopped posting on FFN now.

Most Popular Multi-Chapter: [Oh boy, let's do this. I'm just gonna remind y'all that I basically never wrote multichaptered -well, few exceptions- and that numbers never worked for me xD Let's do this... AJ here was very thorough and did ffnet as well but since I erased like 70% of the fics I had back at ffnet a few months ago I will simply go to A03 for simplicity's sake]

Oh! I'm doing it by Kudos

Annnd, that would be “I'm not afraid of the dark” Princess Rover-Shannara Chronicles with 237 Kudos. It's a wip so, heh xD

Most Popular One-Shot: That one would be “Cracked it” SuperCorp -I think??- Supergirl with 667 Kudos.

Favorite Story You’ve Written So Far: I always say the same one but that's because I basically went to my sandbox and said yeeet. I would write it differently now -I basically edited out a bunch of things I wanted to write because if it would have been up to me the romance would have been less upfront but since it was a SuperNova I guess I went the route of “giving focus to the ship rather than the worldbuilding which I what I love -lol-. Either way that would be Metallic Ink. Yet, to make it a bit more convoluted because y'all know how much I love writing long-winded answers my favorite piece was anything and everything I wrote that involved Steampunk -and I have a bunch!- or fae-related writing because that's what I like the most.

Fic you’re nervous to post: Quoting AJ: All of them. The fear of posting never left no matter the amount of times I did it. We all are nervous from a performance point of view.

How do you choose your titles: I curse a lot xD Not in the titles per se but while trying to find something to write there. I usually go with one word titles for one shots and, somtimes, short sentences. Sometimes they are taken from lyrics -either translated or not- that I think aids with the aesthetic I'm trying to go for or, other times, most of the times really- they are a rewritten version of a sentence written within the text. I'm horrible at it.

Do you outline: I did, sometimes, for specific things. I think I've written about this at some point prior to this tag but, and considering the biggest amount of my work is comprised of one shots and prompts at that, there were certain themes I had written enough times to know already what sort of tropes or themes I wanted to go with so those very rarely needed an outline. I wrote several versions of them, though. Sometimes because plot bunnies, some other times because I wrote in batches so if I realized there was something that was being repeated across several prompts/stories I could lean into something different in order to not be overly repetetive. If I was going for multichaptered or worldbuilding I did an outline. Some stories that required particular details -words of desire, hundred steps, words in the cloud...- also used outlines so I could keep everything in order before writing them and I knew what topics I had already written and which ones I hadn't yet.

Complete Fics: Hah. As always the exact number is something we will never know xD I've erased a bunch so the number is already not the correct one and I'm not even considering tumblr- Now that I think of it I didn't write down tumblr as a site in where I post things... telling. Anyway, according to a03 I have 535 works. Jump that a couple 100s and that will probably be a more accurate number. From those... 513 apparently. It's probably less. Let's be honest xD

Do you accept prompts: *laughs in tired* I did, I do... I guess I still do because what I've last posted were prompts but I consider myself out of most of the whole prompt writing business if it is not for a very particular list of people. If you give me ideas I may implement them but since I don't feel strong enough for any couple atm and the burn out I ended up having is something that still lingers... let's say I'm more the shadow rather than the dianne portion of my penname these days.

Upcoming Story You’re Excited to Write: Fic wise... I guess nothing? I'm not writing fics atm, I may at some point but I'm currently still trying to unlearn a bunch of things and trying to find something I can give back in the form of a transformative work.

Stories You’re Excited to Read: Back to quoting AJ: Give me angst. And fantasy. And hurt comfort with a heavy dose of the first and very little of the second. Pretty please.

Tagging: @waknatious, @stregaomega I'm not remembering if AJ tagged you @naralanis but considered yourself tagged on my end :P

#taggie thingie #answering to you AJ: You never bother #please keep these coming

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riceccakes · 3 years

Text

Earth, Wind, and Coffee: Chapter Four Analysis

and now the last chapter of the fic! i really had so much fun writing these analyses so i hope you’ve enjoyed too :))

i’ve got a lot to say about this last chapter too so be prepared for a long one. lets get to it, shall we?

some fun stuff before we start!

before changing the direction of the story, the last chapter of the fic was going to be Chapter 3: The Meeting, A Well Deserved Jab, and a Good Night’s Rest

so, The Meeting was going to happen, korrasami was gonna come back together and instead of the krew outing during this chapter’s A Well Deserved Jab, korrasami was gonna go out on a date. korra still would punch iroh, korra never ‘moved in’ with asami, it was just gonna be a fluffy section. A Good Night’s Rest was actually going to feature hiroshi going to asami’s apartment while korra was over and being like “who the fuck is this” and korra was gonna be upset asami didn’t tell her dad about them (as, in the og timeline, they would be dating at this point) they’d have a convo working this out, a little like how korra said she’d never understand how asami and hiroshi don’t have a great relationship in A Much Needed Conversation. korra would then go to hiroshi’s office and make that whole speech and still ask asami to go the south. this is a v summed up version, one that when i made it, i was happy with. having published what i did, i much enjoy that ending more than this one :)

i wanted a way to show that korra likes asami (obviously, this is a korrasami fic) but of course, asami spent most of this only wishing korra liked her

mako asking out korra was a late edition, one i actually really like. mako’s role in the fic is pretty minor, sorry to those of you who really love him and maybe wanted more from him. however, i am a really big fan of the fact that in lok, even after all the stupid love triangle shit, mako was able to be good friends with korrasami, so i still wanted to capture that. he’s not at all upset when korra turns him down, but rather super happy for the fact that korrasami feel the same way about each other. an even later edition to this point is the bedroom scene when korra asks asami to wait for her, i’ll mention more about this scene later cause i really love it.

and we in gooooo: (i usually try to write these following the sections of the chapter but for this analysis, im gonna go topic by topic within each section)

literary devices (diction, figurative language, etc.):

There have been better days than this one. Days where Korra blows up Asami’s phone with funny Instagram posts she finds while Asami’s at school, days where she invites Mako and Bolin over and the four of them play board games, days where Korra asks if they can go out for a walk and she excitedly explores the area around Asami’s apartment. There have been worse days than this one. Days where Korra won’t get out of bed, days where Korra won’t speak, days where Korra won’t even look at Asami and she has to see that glossed over gaze gawk out the glass window.

back again, just quoting my favorite sections. and this one, yall, this one. the mirrored writing style, the ending with alliteration, how easily it describes a passage of time i mean come on. when i wrote this i was like “yyyyaaaasssss” and i won’t deny it. the “glossed over gaze gawk out the glass window” is obvious in alliteration, one that just sounds so good, it rolls off the tongue. but, there’s actually also another one, one that’s a bit more hidden “she excitedly explores the area around Asami’s apartment” note how these both end the descriptions of korra’s bad/good days respectively, as a sort of way to frame which parts of the sentence correspond with the good days and bad days. now, going onto korra’s days, three examples of good days, three examples of bad days (that’s technically six different days right there, and it doesn’t even have to be in succession.) what i also love about this info into korra’s days is how it shows a passage of time without having to be like “it’s been a few weeks” or “after some time/a while” it doesn’t stick out, at least not to me, it’s not a jarring way to say, “hey, in the story now, time has passed since last chapter!” idk, i just am really proud of this paragraph and i wanted to point it out in its own section :)

Asami will never, ever say she’s happy that the Red Lotus attack happened, but, it’s what brought Korra to her. It’s what brought more friends to her, it’s what brought her to see her father isn’t as great and almighty as she’d grown up to believe. How could she ever thank something so horrible for bringing about all these life changing things in her life?

this sort of, existential section, was something i came up with on the toilet. (tmi? im not gonna apologize tho, this is a behind the scenes explanation of my writing and some of my best writing happens on the toilet ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) any who, i didn’t want to leave any loose ends and, up until this chapter, i don’t really think i showed how asami felt about the attack and the situation and what’s happened after. also, asami being the perfectionist and analyst she is, i know she’d reflect on everything that’s happened to her in the span of about six months (give or take) and even more so, reflect on what’s happened with korra in the time they’ve known each other. it was a bit painful to write this section, it’s that sort of mentality that’s like “some horrible, horrible shit happened, but really, really good things came out of it. so, should i still hate all that horrible stuff or should i just appreciate the good things that came out of it?” (i’ve been debating this for years now with something personal and to this day, i’m not sure. i’m not sure if i’m more thankful for it all happening because of the few good moments it brought or if i wish none of it happened for the chance at some alternate reality of good things happening. anyways, i digress)

Kuvira stays silent for a moment, “When Hiroshi reaches out to you, tell him everything you said to me. Tell him everything you said when we were in your apartment after the presentation. He needs to know how you feel, he needs to know how he’s made you feel for years. Hiroshi can’t change if he doesn’t know what’s wrong and you want him to change, don’t you?”

Asami grips the steering wheel, staring at the red light in front of her. Her foot slowly pulses on and off the break, inching forward, waiting for the signal.

“I do.”

She feels the pit of her stomach churn, wondering if she could ever say all of it to her father. Kuvira isn’t wrong, she wants her father to change, but not in every way. Not in the business sense, not in the ambition sense, but rather, she wants a father, she wants to feel like the man she calls Dad really deserves the title. It pains her to say he hasn’t. The light turns green and Asami’s foot hovers over the gas pedal.

“So then you’ll tell him?”

For just a moment, her Satomobile doesn’t move but with a sharp, deep breath, Asami steps on the pedal. “I will.”

back again with our car metaphor/symbol thing! i really do love this idea of using the Satomobile as a way to show the relationship between hiroshi and asami, and how asami handles that relationship. this is from A Much Needed Conversation, some time after asami’s returned to future industries, calling kuvira in reluctant hope of knowing what her father is doing. they talk about asami telling hiroshi all this important stuff, stuff that asami’s been hesitant to bring up at all. (only after a breaking point did she finally let it out) this section has a mix of it all, diction, metaphor, along with some suspense by using line breaks.

Her foot slowly pulses on and off the break, inching forward, waiting for the signal. / “I do.” - here’s a good example of suspense. (it continues through the rest of the excerpt) so, here was have asami, absolutely scared shitless, as she always is with her father and this subject of her life in relation to him. except, now with their time apart and what happened with the meeting, asami’s kind of got this “fuck it, whatever” mentality that goes a few different ways. “fuck it, whatever” my dad totally turned on me and was an asshole, i don’t care. “fuck it, whatever” we cut off ties, i can do whatever i want. “fuck it, whatever” i might very well do whatever it takes to get my dad back because i miss him but im also super scared as per usual. “fuck it, whatever” im not the one who needs to do anything to get him back so i won’t even think about it. there’s just a lot for asami to unpack here and in the setting of her father’s legacy, it’s even more for her.

She feels the pit of her stomach churn...The light turns green and Asami’s foot hovers over the gas pedal. - more suspense. the light is green, green means go, but asami is waiting, thinking, hesitating. this also relates to the line earlier “waiting for the signal” well, this is the signal, the green light means go. but also, kuvira telling asami to tell hiroshi everything is also the signal to go, it’s like the push for asami to do it. she sees the signal, it’s go time, and yet “Asami’s foot hovers over the gas pedal” asami is still nervous, still scared to have this conversation with her father because she just doesn’t know what’s going to happen.

“So then you’ll tell him?” / For just a moment, her Satomobile doesn’t move but with a sharp, deep breath, Asami steps on the pedal. “I will.” - this mirrors just a few lines earlier. when kuvira asks asami to tell hiroshi everything while she’s waiting for the green light, her dialogue has a line break. for dramatic effect purposes, but also to show a sense of firmness. it’s by itself, it doesn’t need to be supported; asami really, truly means this. however here, her dialogue tag is connected to the narration its related to. even while asami confirms she’ll do this, that she’ll talk to her father, it’s hesitant, it takes a moment for her to say yes.

what i really love is how much can be covered in such few lines. i’m not sure you all saw this when reading, ive always been very into reading/writing analysis, so i’m always looking at everything with a fine tooth comb; in my own writing, it’s no different. if you didn’t see this before, i hope learning it now gives you a different perspective if you ever choose to read my fic again :)

content (typing up loose ends, leaving breadcrumbs, additional info):

lets talk about korra

a lot happens for our girl in this last chapter. i’ll try to be concise, i tend to kind of ramble. i think what’s kind of cool, and i didn’t realize this beforehand, is that theres a speech from korra in each section. in A Well Deserved Jab, we see korra’s first time speaking at the support group meeting and what i really like about this is there’s no real big event that’s happened for her to finally be able to go up there. i feel like there’s always this one, life altering moment in stories when people need to deal with trauma or just work up the courage to do something, but in our case, it’s not like that. it’s the time and the care that’s slowly been working and helping korra for her to feel ready. it’s been a culminating process for her to get to go up there and for whatever reason, korra felt ready. let’s go a little into this speech

we finally learn more about the attack. we learn why korra’s always been picking at her wrists, the memory of the zip ties are still strong and she scratches at hopes of making the feeling go away. we also hear more about korra losing control that night, which in turn made her want to control everything with her life after the event. (lil fun-ish note while we talk about some deep stuff right now, last chapter’s first paragraph, about korra enjoying pour over coffees, was a purposeful choice. when doing pour overs, you have direct and absolute control over the coffee and how you make it, which gives korra a greater sense of comfort, because she knows she’s in charge when doing this.) my favorite part about this whole speech is right before the tail end of it, where korra says “sometimes surprises are better than plans” it was never in her plan to meet someone and find comfort and support and love and grow with it. (my headcanon is that korra just wanted to mull this over alone, sort of like in book four after the canon red lotus attack.) instead, korra met asami and the two clicked and korra could see a light at the end of her tunnel she thought would be pitch black forever. i really enjoyed getting to write this for korra.

korra’s second speech takes place in A Much Needed Conversation. another scene from the fic i wrote beforehand, i think somewhere between finishing chapter two and mulling over the decision to make the fic longer. this was sort of my cathartic, “lets yell at hiroshi for being sucky” moment. a lot of points are brought up here, all of which i believe are valid. it poses the simple, yet ever complicated question of “why?” i’ll get into hiroshi’s response in a later section, but what i’ll highlight about this speech is korra’s statement, “Now, I know that I don’t need to be saying any of this, because Asami can more than hold her own in any conversation, but I am doing this because you are hurting the woman I love, and I will not just let that happen.” its a declaration of love, love that i know is deeper than just romance but also deeper than just friendship. it’s admiration for asami being so strong, admiration for asami being so powerful and smart, korra says more about it in the speech. i tried it make so that korra wasn’t trying to control this situation with asami’s father, but rather, this was korra’s attempt at getting them to try and work something out. korra wants what’s best for asami, she wants her to get everything she wants. korra knows asami wants a better father and the most korra feels she can do is slap hiroshi (with her words) across the face and get him to realize that’s what asami wants.

korra’s third and final speech opens A Good Night’s Rest. we get just a little more about that night, i actually wrote this speech out loud. i just sort of put myself in korra’s place and started talking. my intent with this opening was to give more insight into how korra feels about asami. this is also a call back to the beginning of the chapter, about waking up asami if korra ever needs her. i took this action as a solidifying definition for asami to know “yeah, korra really does love me.” sure, in the last section, korra sort of did say it, but actions still speak louder than words. a lot of this final chapter was just showing how much korra has grown, i think i achieved that.

before we move on, i just wanted to say a lil bit about the bedroom scene where korra asks asami to wait for her. it’s a small confession that i think just says so much. another time here to show that romantic korrasami will happen, but it’s also just insight into korra and her thoughts about romancing asami. she wants it too, so badly that she almost gets into it before she’s ready. did i psych you guys out like asami, who thought she was finally going to kiss korra? it’s all in the lines, “I’m almost there...I know I am, Asami. I’ll be there soon, I need to be better. I need to be better for you.” and now, after thinking about it, i almost wasn’t gonna word it like this. what korra’s saying here is that her progression is only being done so that she can be good for asami, which, i didn’t want to convey. however, sometimes, that’s just how people think; they think, “if i have to do something, i gotta do it for someone else.” and so that’s what i’ve done with korra here, it’s just this mentality that she’s growing out of. it’s okay to have this thought process, good even, but not for every single thing you do. and i wanted korra to know that, which is why i love asami’s response, “I think you’re already great.” it’s just to remind korra, yes you can get better, you will get better. but not for asami, but for yourself, because asami already loves you the way you are.

kuvopal

breadcrumbs; that’s all i’ve really done so far with kuvopal is put lil breadcrumbs everywhere for the people who like the idea of the relationship to grasp at. is that mean of me? maybe, but i really love kuvira and opal as a couple so i wanted to keep hinting and hinting and hopefully getting you readers interested too. kuvopal has been sprinkled in since chapter two and i wanted to leave the readers with just a little ounce of hope

asami’s official introduction with opal heavily involves bolin, enough to the point where the two kiss each other on the cheek. now, of course, after reading the chapter, you know bolin and opal aren’t dating, but i wanted to stress you out a lil bit xD asami is weary of mentioning kuvira, so there’s not much we really get to see about how opal feels. opal may have wanted to talk when asami mentioned kuvira just before korra asked about spring break, but she didn’t. why didn’t she say anything? do you think she’s wanted to talk about kuvira? what about her major, child services and the foster care system, do you think kuvira influenced that, being she essentially was fostered by the beifongs? do you think we’ll ever find answers? *wink*

iroh

so obviously, we don’t like iroh. if there’s anyone in this story who doesn’t get a happy ending or a second chance, it’s him because he’s the worst. i realized we hadn’t seen too much of iroh in the previous chapters and this being the last one, i needed to really show just how not cool iroh is. the soccer game is very clearly an indication of just how conceded and rude he is. after the game, his conversation with asami is bad. he’s being invasive and inconsiderate of asami and he doesn’t care. same with at the restaurant. so, of course i wanted iroh to get his comeuppance and we have that by korra punching him.

going off of this, i didn’t want it to feel like iroh got a one and done kind of deal. he was incredibly awful to asami and his “friends” and i didn’t want this behavior to be taken lightly. so, i chose to make iroh just basically lose everything :) he loses his friends, possibly his job, i just KNOW izumi is disappointed as fuck that he’s acted like this and uncle iroh is rolling over in his grave that someone of his own blood would be like this. i wanted to address iroh in his own category because i just wanted you all to know that he is the only character not getting off easy. i really hope that how iroh’s situation turned out is good, as in, he got what he deserves.

hiroshi

hiroshi was an interesting character to go about in the final chapter. obviously, throughout the fic so far, hiroshi hasn’t been a standout father or boss. if i haven’t said it before, i’ll say it now: i always wanted hiroshi to have a second chance, ie, i wanted hiroshi to try to be better. for one, asami deserves it. she deserves a good parent who’s there for her and isn’t just obsessed with his job and the glory and empire he’s built up for himself. another reason, i believe everyone (within reason, *cough cough* not iroh *cough*) deserves a second chance. at the very least one more try, to be better, and if they’re actively trying, they’re doing better.

so hiroshi gets a bit of a wake up call from not only korra, after she so passionately scolded him in the name of her love for asami, but hiroshi also got one from asami directly. take your pick as to which conversation sparked hiroshi to call her to say goodnight. it’s an effort, and asami even says it herself, that after a while, the juice of it ran out. but kuvira said it too, it’s a start. what im trying to highlight is that no one is perfect and their ways of trying to change themself isn’t going to be perfect either.

and the kicker is hiroshi going to the south, without any other reason than to see asami. hiroshi only ever travels for future industries related business, but here he goes, without kuvira, to the south to see asami. i want to keep highlighting, asami says this is just the start. she hasn’t yet fully forgiven him, but she’s giving him the chance to be forgiven. that’s what i want to make most apparent on the topic of hiroshi and asami’s relationship: hiroshi is not getting off easy. but he’s trying, and in the words of the good place, that is what matters isn’t if people are good or bad, what matters is if they’re trying to be better today than they were yesterday. hiroshi, in this action, coming to the south, is trying to be a better father that day than all the days before. offering up the job offer from tonraq is hiroshi trying to be a better boss that day than the day before. staying in the south to spend real, quality time with his daughter is hiroshi trying to be better that day than every day before that.

it’s all in the trying.

honorable mentions:

in the og timeline, back when korrasami was going to be a confirmed couple in the fic, after returning from the south, asami was going to go to the cafe at one in the morning while korra was working and korra was going to make her an avatar. i liked the full circle aspect at the time but really, i much prefer what i’ve posted over that og timeline.

anything i would’ve wanted to change?

i think, overall, i maybe would’ve wanted to divide chapters up differently. as i continued writing, the three sections definitely could’ve supported themselves as singular chapters. especially this final chapter, which was almost 20k words. but, in the end, i am so proud of this fic and of myself for following through and finishing it.

i lost a bit of steam towards the end of this analysis, i’ve actually had this in my drafts for almost two months. but, i think what i wanted to say, i did, and as always, if you have any comments or questions, or just wanna talk to me, do it ! i love any and all commentary on my writing :))

thanks for reading the analysis if you did x

#ricewrites #earth wind and coffee #coffee shop au #korrasami #korra #asami sato #lok #writing analysis #chapter analysis

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kiliinstinct · 4 years

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Have You Missed Me? // Nalu One-Shot

Inspired By the Recent Artwork by @fainttwinkling!! (Click Here For Image) One look and the emotions and situation between Natsu and Lucy just spoke to me, I had to write it out! Warning: Adult Content - You read that Right. Avert ye gaze if you’re a younglin’. Pairing: Obviously Nalu. Apologies for any spelling errors, I wrote this rather quickly and didn’t really take much time to edit.

-- Tag List --

@pbfanart @cobblepottantrum @yuldragneel @bearpluscat @millennial-star-gazer @caandleworks @kaycha1989 @furidojasutin @eragonsoul @just-another-dream-girl @whatdidyasayiamdaydreaming @hanahathefluffydragon @softscream @dlshieldss @ctay21 @acidrain1698 @lovelyluce @clockworkassassino @celestialwolf24 @unwei @jem-hamster-chan @melissa827 @meilynalu @littlejinxed @moonlitstargazerforever @trollka21

----

‘Have you missed me?’

Such a simple question with a loaded answer.

A day had turned to a week. A week into a month. A month…. Into three. Too long, far too long. It was taking its toll on him. An obvious toll that everyone could see. It started subtly. His smile stopped reaching his eyes one day- the cackling laugh that erupted so often grew quiet: subdued. At one point, he didn’t respond to Gray or even Gajeel goading him to a fight.

It was worrisome, but they all knew better than to force him. Natsu tried to live through every day as if nothing were wrong, but the longer Lucy stayed away, the harder it became. Jobs were easy. He went on one or two daily, even joined up with Erza, Gray and Wendy for a few that lasted a couple of days or more, but none would last as long as the one Lucy had been on and there was only so many days Natsu could pretend it wasn’t eating at him the longer she was away. They’d never been apart for so long, not since she’d joined the Guild- it was … an empty feeling he didn’t want to name.

Natsu had taken to sleeping in her apartment on Strawberry Street. It wasn’t beyond the ordinary; the days spent staying at her place tripled the moment their relationship became official, but his days after she left had begun at his own home with happy. It had changed with time- the small house became devoid of sound as he and Happy moved their nights to the comfort of Lucy’s empty bed.

The comforter smelled like her- a smell that couldn’t leave after so many washes or days away- it eased his nights and made it easier, though they were full of nightmares. Had the job gone wrong? Was she okay? Countless nights finding her again and again, only for her to disappear in a multitude of ways: wounded, fading, dying, waving goodbye- versions were endless. He never spoke of them, but every guild member knew something was wrong when he came to the Hall, tired and dazed, falling asleep with his face smushed in the Fire Chicken placed before him.

“- maybe you should get some more sleep.” Erza said, frowning pulling at her face while her arms crossed. “Making a mess is usual, but this is becoming ridiculous.”

“I’m fine.” He grumbled, face planted to the table, little specks of the earlier dish still covering a bit of his nose and chin. He’d wipe them off later. Natsu may have been pushing Erza’s button’s with that response, but even Gray tapped the wood next to him, chiming in with an opinion before the redhead could continue.

“Dude, serious,” He mumbled, scratched the back of his head, somewhat uncomfortable. “Usually I’d call you an idiot, but even I’m starting to feel bad. Either quit sulking or go back to bed!”

Natsu lifted a hand to give his fellow wizard a well-known hand signal that gave his opinion loud and clear. Gray smacked the hand and scoffed. “Fine. Suit yourself, you flamin’ idiot.”

“Is-.. is Natsu going to be okay?”

“I said I’m fine!” Snapped Natsu, finally lifting his head to look towards Wendy, pulling a small grin. “Seriously guys, I know Lucy’s more than tough and will be back in no time, so can ya’ drop it?”

His answer came when Erza’s hand shot out, pinching his ear and forcing a loud yelp to escape him, “We’ll drop it as soon as you stop pathetically moping on the table, and get some sleep!”

A grunt of pain, a few chuckles around the hall, and a wave to Happy was the end to his venture that day- effectively kicked out for rest. ‘Don’t you worry, Natsu!’ Happy had told him whilst he was shoved out the door, ‘I’ll hold the fort until you feel better and if Lucy comes back, I’ll even tell her where you’re at!’

Pfft, He thanked Happy with a pat to the Exceed’s head, but figured it wouldn’t matter. Lucy always liked to come home first and if that happened… well, he certainly wasn’t sleeping back at his place. Surrounded by so many memories somehow made his sleep even worse. Slinking through Lucy’s window, it was easy to flop onto the mattress, shuffle himself against the blanket and pillows and let his exhaustion over take him. Maybe once he rested, he could drag Happy off for fishing or another job….

Her scent was there again, overflowing his senses. Natsu’s tense muscles relaxed, sighing softly as the pillow and scarf effectively covered his tired eyes. He’d worry about shutting the window later (if he remembered)- for now he was more than content to slowly drift off. The ticking of a nearby clock reminded him vaguely of the emptiness in the apartment and he frowned, peeking one eye out into the dim light of her room.

It wasn’t as fun without Lucy around… he’d noticed it before, time and time again- the exhilaration he’d feel when they were doing things together: either playing a game, teasing or working- the world just seemed a little bit brighter. While his life was still bright, and his family there- somehow… things just felt….

“It’s all dusty.” He mumbled. With that word in the air, he sighed, allowing dark, tired eyes to slide shut, and waited for his tired body to give in.

Lucy’s scent was overwhelming when he came to.

It was everywhere, strong and musky- the sort of smell that followed her after a hard job or training. Usually she would shower immediately, claiming she felt gross and had to wash herself, but he never minded it. (It really wasn’t THAT bad of a smell- most wouldn’t even notice if they didn’t have the sort of nose he did.) This was a scent he was used to, but as the sleep slowly seeped from him, Natsu realized it was far too strong and-

A rustling of hair brushed his face, the mattress bent from added weight and the window clicking shut echoed through the room- Natsu’s eyes shot open, very much awake.

“-Lucy?!” The question held excitement, blood pumping through his ears as he hoped his senses hadn’t betrayed him- freezing in place when he was greeted with the family, brown eyes of his girlfriend.

She had also frozen, slightly leaning over him still from her attempts to shut the window as quietly as possible. “Oh- sorry, did I wake you?” She questioned, voice low, as if her quiet whispers could lull him back to sleep. “You looked so tired, I didn’t want to-”

Lucy never had the chance to finish her sentence as Natsu’s body reacted, surging forward to grab her- the force sent them both tumbling off the bed and crashing to the floor. Her screech was sudden and it rang in his ears, but he didn’t care- he was more concerned with ensuring he wasn’t having another one of his many vivid dreams. She felt real enough- her clothes were wrinkled from travel- her hair frizzed in weird places and her keys jangled at her hip.

Her body directly beneath his, hips straddling by his own legs and breath panting into his ear as she struggled to adjust to his sudden weight, gave Natsu all the proof he needed: His Lucy was home.

“Weirdo,” Natsu said, head lifting to beam at her- the dimples in his smile meeting his eyes for what felt the first time in weeks, “You’ve been workin’ forever and you're worried about ME bein’ tired?”

Lucy’s answering smile looked winded and she simpered, “- it was only a few months, not forever, you goof. I came back just fine!.”

“Yeah, yeah you sure did,” He rasped back, lips surging down to silence her. He didn’t want to talk, not just yet. Natsu’s relieved laughter passed from his mouth to hers, lips molding over her own, coaxing them open to dip his tongue in to meet her own- it wasn’t tentative or searching. It was fast, desperate almost. The taste of her, the feel of her breath against his face, the way she squirmed and looked for a position for her arms as their kiss grew more frenzied…

It spoke the words he didn’t know how to say. I’ve missed you. I��ve missed you so damn much… !

Lucy hadn’t been prepared, gasping for much needed air when Natsu finally relented, pecking her mouth over and over in between laughter and their whispered names. He couldn’t get enough. Wouldn’t get enough. Not just yet. Rough fingers move along the curve of her hips, finding the skin her shirt couldn’t cover- he grasped her, feeling the rise in temperature, the hitch of her breath as his hot mouth descended upon her jaw before moving back up again. What seemed rushed, turned slow as he took in air and pulled back to admire the flush and swell of Lucy’s lips. How he’d missed that dazed look on her eyes.

“Natsu what are you-” Another interrupted, but a welcomed one. Lucy bit back her words, cheeks growing redder as Natsu tenderly moved to press a soft kiss to her nose, her eyelids and even her forehead, before moving back to her lips. The rough movement that started took a more sensuous turn as he pressed their heads together, dark eyes simmering in the dark. The sun had been high when he’d fallen asleep, but now, he subconsciously realized their only source of light was a gentle glow from the moon.

Though he was far more interested in the light he held within his very arms. “You are never takin’ a job that long ever again.” He said- voice serious, but eyes gleaming as he sat up, pulling her with him to brush their hips together- allowing her fingers, now shaking with her own anticipation and need, to slide his scarf off slowly before zipping down his coat to brush off his shoulders. She gave him a look he knew all too well and he backpedaled, “At least not without me you aren’t.”

What started as a reprimand turned to a giggle as Lucy’s slim fingers finally pushed off the fabric of Natsu’s clothes and met with his heated skin, “Have you missed me, Natsu?” She asked. No answer was needed- they both knew it either way and her laughter was muffled by his impatient hands suddenly pulling at her shirt, lifting it over her arms and tossing it aside. In no time, his own hands found skin once more, trailing up and down her Lucy’s ribs before grasping the swell of her breasts, squeezing in a silent tempo while his mouth covered hers.

The slow, languid push and pull of their tongues was met with soft sighs and more murmurs- her legs positioned over his, pelvis and hips pressing atop his own and his hands, still impatient for more touch, grasped her thigh to push her closer against him and explored the expanse of her back. Lucy whimpered when he pulled away, teeth nipping her lip before descending downward, brows furrowed as he placed nips and open mouthed kisses over her neck and shoulder.

More. He needed more.

Lucy tilted her head back, giving Natsu more room to move, arms moving over his shoulder, hips shifting as he continued to suck against her skin leaving a trail of marks. There were many words at the tip of her tongue, all wanting to be released, but she held them back. Not yet, not now- he needed this, inhaling sharply when his teeth and tongue met the tip of her nipples, she admitted in lustful whispers her own need.

‘I missed you. I missed Happy.. I missed Gray, Erza and Wendy…’

Another rough suck and her hips gyrated against his, heat pooling in her stomach, twisting and coiling as nails dragged down his shoulders.

‘But most importantly…’

Another press against each other, their bottoms still in the way and Natsu growled, impatient, frustrated- Lucy whined in response as his hands quickly moved to push her skirt up, thin, lace panties pushed aside for his fingers to move and test her. She was already prepared for him- already waiting, needing- wanting-

Natsu’s impatience grew, but he ignored the tightness of his pants, grunting in satisfaction when the pads of his fingers found the sensitive bud, hidden from everyone, but him. He circled his finger, gave pressure and stimulation- marveling at the slowly building sounds that escaped Lucy’s mouth. She’d always been noisy- breathy and more than willing to tell him just what she liked through hushed whispers against his ear.

‘I missed you-!’

It if had been any other day, any other night- they may have taken their time. Natsu would have eventually moved her to the bed and consumed every inch of her wish his mouth and she may have traced the contours of every muscle he possessed with her tongue before swallowing him down for great release. This was not that night. A heavy need consumed every move, every motion- Natsu’s hand continued to press and play against her, eventually testing her wetness by dipping two fingers inside, thrusting in and out.

While she crooned, urging him on, hips moving against his own in a tempo searching for a release she hadn’t reached since the last she had seen him, Natsu continued his crusade against her skin: his teeth marked her with more love bites and when one breast received enough attention to ache when he pulled away, he moved to the other, suckling and pulling forth more sounds from her mouth as he helped build her need higher and higher. He timed it with the thrusts of his fingers and pressing of his thumb, but Natsu wasn’t the only one.

Lucy needed more- far more than what she was given, mind altered by the steady build he was giving her inflamed body. Fingers quickly unclasped the belt as his waist, weaved around his own hands to push the hem of his pants down- finally grasping the hardness she desperately wanted to replace his fingers.

He was hard, painfully so- his movements paused when she gripped him, pumping her hand up and down while their eyes finally met with the other. A silent conversation passed between them- heavy breathing mixed between the two in the heavy air, and his hand finally slid away from her- giving opening for the swell of his head to touch against her, teasing as her hips moved to angle herself. “N-Natsu,” Lucy rasped, free hand moved to caress his face, tongue peeking out to swipe at her swollen lips, “We can take our time later, please just- “ She whined again when his hands gripped her hips in response, “Just do it!”

Fingers flexed against her and Natsu helped with the very thing she wanted. Pressing her hips down against him, he slipped inside her, groaning from the sensation. They were together, working as one, taking only a few moments to adjust before their hips were moving together in a well-practiced rhythm that would send them higher and higher to a point they both desperately needed.

They kissed, mouths moving sloppily together, unable to keep up with their frantic pace. Natsu was already pent up, but he groaned in his attempts to hold back the pleasure. Not yet, not so soon, Lucy’s insides gripped him with every thrust and her mouth mimicking his own moments before, sucked the skin of his neck, licked the sweat as her own gasps and mewls echoed into the room. “D-damn that feels so good, Lucy!”

He howled his praises and the work of his hands served their purpose, Lucy’s pleasure was already meeting the precipice she sought. Her movements stuttered and she grit her teeth, biting his skin when wave after wave of pleasure washed through her, crying out his name, Natsu finally allowed his own release- giving in to the conjoined pleasure, surging roughly inside her with every spurt of his orgasm. .

It felt like mere seconds and an eternity had passed, panting against the other with sweaty foreheads pressed together. Lucy shuddered in the aftermath, slouching against Natsu as he held her. It was a few minutes longer before they both put together the crumpled clothes on their hips- their position on the floor and lost clothing littered around them.

Natsu laughed first. A low, tired chuckle soon followed by Lucy's lips slowly meeting again between giggles. With weary limbs, they eventually moved to Lucy’s bed, sliding under the blankets as they kicked away the rest of their clothes. They would worry about the clean up later.

Silence fell between them. A peaceful calm that comes between two people when they’ve finally come home: relief and contentedness filling them as Natsu pulled Lucy close against him, arms encircling her hips as she snuggled close. He pressed soft kisses against the back of her ear, and she giggled at each one, hands moved to encircle with his fingers. Despite his overdue rest through the day, Natsu felt all the worries and nerves he’d hidden beneath the surface, slide away, covering him with a different kind of exhaustion.

It wasn’t until Lucy’s own breathing began to even, closing in on sleep, that he chose to finally answer the question she’d gave him. Another soft kiss before he nuzzled his face into her hair.

“I missed ya way too damn much.” He admitted, practically purring into Lucy’s golden tresses. She snorted, the closest to a laugh she could come while her limbs were so tired, but squeezed his hand in response. “- how did the job go?”

Her sleepy reply came with a tilt of her head, pride swimming in her eyes, “The client was happy he requested my help and I have a new key to show for it.” Before he could ask further, she tilted herself enough to kiss the tip of his nose and fell back against her own pillows. “- talk more later, sleep now.”

Her tired plea and yawn pulled forth another laugh from Natsu, but he didn’t fight it.

They had plenty of time to catch up. For now, he’d keep her all to himself.

#Ft Fanfiction #Nalu Fanfiction #Nalu #NatsuxLucy #Mira's Fanfiction #high rating #smut warning

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avauntus · 3 years

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2020 Creator Wrap

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 (or so) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

(Thank you for the tag @convenientalias, @rain-hat! 💗 And at least one other person I’m forgetting, I think- I’m sorry! 😅)

I wrote one thing (questionably) worthy of posting in an afternoon, eight years ago... and then this year happened! Ao3 tells me I’ve written 265,911 words this year (and I have another ~22k in WIP purgatory...) So that happened?

the world in your eyes (Goblin : Grim Reaper + photos - July) - I watched Goblin through the end of episode 11, deliberately paused, and wrote this ‘perspective’ fic because I wanted to capture what and how the Reaper was before I knew anything else (and I knew I wouldn’t be able to go back to that old headspace, after). It remains one of the most unintentionally funny things I’ve ever written, to me, because the very next episode revealed a major twist about a side character that changed parts of the tone-- I had no idea when writing it, but it still works imo. haha

Entanglement (The King: Eternal Monarch : Lee Gon + about 15 others’ works + quantum mechanics- July) - Everyone who I drug into this (without asking for permission) was much kinder than I deserved. Because I couldn’t just go leave comments like a normal person. This led to my meeting a bunch of A+++ folks on Tumblr, though! Despite studying others style, I still have not mastered workplace comic-drama as well as @sadviper; playful-yet-emotional-character-development as well as @drivingsideways; or anything/everything (but especially the mid-scene seamless perspective shift) as well as @rain-hat; really go read their fics instead.

(Still irked that the best thing this show could think to do with time loops was not-very-bright doppelgangers and a flower seed metaphor that didn’t work. Come on.)

Messenger (My Country: New Age : Nam Seon-ho/Seo Hwi + AU Canon Divergence - July-September) - You ever watch a scene in a show or movie and it’s not even over yet but you’re like: “Come on!! That is NOT-” Nam Seon-ho should have noticed Hwi’s last arrow at Liaodong. That’s how Messenger was born, and then I entered into a dare with the lovely @staidwaters. “If you start writing your fic, I’ll start mine...” The last chapter, especially the friendship between Nam Seon-ho and Hwang Sung-rok, remain one of my favorite things I’ve ever written-- it feels like pure sunshine to me. 🌞

The Beginning is the End is the Beginning (My Country: New Age : Yi Bang-won + Post-Canon - August) - I free handwrote this in about 3 hours, then cleaned it up and sat on it for a couple weeks because everyone else in fandom seems to kinda like Bang-won, generally, and I didn’t want to harsh anyone’s fun by posting. But I stand by it, and (sorry not sorry) this is closer to the version of the character in my head. Absolute power and the patriarchy are not cute, to the oppressed.

the wind, the flood, and the flame (The Untamed : Lan Wangji/Wei Wuxian + Post-Canon / AU-ish - January; written Oct-Jan) - In late 2019, I was in a bit of a funk. I remembered I used to noodle around with writing fic. But after years of short memos and emails for work, I was suddenly afraid I’d lost the ability to write anything long-form worth a damn. So I launched into a “slight” re-write of the ending of The Untamed, and over 100k later... I put a lot of things that felt like risks into this, and a lot of personal things I wanted to see for the characters, philosophically & emotionally, too. I have no idea if it really works. In the larger scope of that humongous fandom, this has done tiny numbers so maybe not. The readers who have taken a chance on it and left comments are the utter best, though. Occasionally, it will pick up a new reader who will 'yell’ at me about the plot twist -- which always makes my day. (If you commit and want the full experience, don’t open the comments.)

I feel really awkward talking about my own writing so much, but thank you for the opportunity! (Maybe I’ll start a rec tag-game thread next-- that would be fun too!)

I think I’m late to the party on this, but I’m tagging @sadviper and anyone else in my mutuals who wants to... I love reading meta about others’ works! 😃

(photo: salt harvest on the Salar de Uyuni, Bolivia)

#tag meme #my fic #recs #let's be honest #i will probably never write this much in a year again #2020: a year

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thosequeenboys · 4 years

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Weep Not for the Memories (John Deacon x Freddie Mercury)

Summary: John is devastated after Freddie’s death. A nighttime visit from his departed friend helps him contemplate moving forward, as he grapples with the loss.

A/N: Yup, this is sad. BUT I try to be a glass-is-half-full sort of gal, so the story shows how Freddie helps John cope with the loss by keeping their memories close and embracing all the good in his life as he considers his future. Here’s to lovely memories of Freddie, to those Queen boys who loved him – and still do and this community that celebrates him!

Special thanks to @painkiller80 for providing great edits and to @melisa-may-taylor72 for those Japan videos, which showed me the perfect outfit for Freddie :)

Warnings: Mention of death, sorrow, some tooth-rotting song lyrics (bolded & referenced at the end)

The November Sunday morning dawned grey and damp as most did that time of year. A wind whipped up the fallen leaves and blew them into almost perfect whirling oblong circles. He arose and prepared for the day. She stayed sleeping on her side, cuddled under the blankets. Once downstairs, he started the kettle for tea and ventured to the doorstep to pick up the newspaper that leaned carelessly against the front door. There it was: Freddie’s announcement of his illness.

John was surprised but not shocked. The reality they had been living with for years was finally revealed in black and white. And with it, there was no more denying, no hope that he would be cured and no thinking that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t as bad as it really was. Of course, they knew the truth from his deterioration and his rueful jokes, but so long as it wasn’t officially announced in print, they could still hope -- or deny the harsh reality. He folded up the paper and shoved it into the entry foyer shelf between boots and hats and scarves.

He carried on with the morning routine, preparing breakfast before church. The kids started to amble down the steps and he corralled them around the kitchen table to eat, keeping he banter light, responding to them as needed, mustering great concentration to be in the moment. Veronica joined them, holding the youngest’s hand cajoling them to finish up and dress for church, which they did. Attired and groomed neatly, they gathered by the door without fussing or fighting, bantering or bossing, asks or antics, as though they anticipated the ominous afternoon that lay before them. After church, the kids scattered to the family room turning to regular Sunday pre-lunch activities: games, books and crafts. John joined them eager to distract himself, as Veronica prepared lunch.

The drizzle started hitting the large window, laying wet tracks on the glass. John turned on all the lights. He welcomed the bright bursts that contrasted the grey landscape and sat down. Suddenly he heard the unmistakable sound of tires on gravel. He peered out the window and saw one, then two cars enter the wide driveway. The cars parted, peeling to opposite sides of the circular drive, and parked, forming the base of a heart. The boys exited their cars, pulling their coats tightly. They met and the tall one’s arm gently touched the other’s lower back, as they walked toward the house, their feet crunching.

“John…” Veronica called, her voice shaking. They all knew it would happen-some version of this-and now that it was here, it began to unfold in slow motion.

“I know.” John said, rising and walking out of the family room toward the entry foyer where she now stood. She extended her hand, brushing it down his arm as he grabbed a coat from a hook and put it on while opening the heavy wooden door.

And, at that moment, John knew that once he walked out that door, his life would never be the same. What lay ahead for them, he couldn’t say. How he’d deal with the avalanche of emotions, he didn’t know. How many memories would fade over time, he couldn’t imagine. Crossing the threshold to that uncertainty, into the dampness, he felt fullness rush to his chest. Emotions ricocheted within himself, the feelings kept at bay for so long. He met the boys in the middle of the driveway. Brian extended his long arm and pulled John in, his other arm now tight around Roger. Before Brian spoke, John’s tears started to flow.

“He’s gone, Deacy.” Brian’s wet eyes bore into John’s as he brought John and Roger close to him. They huddled together in the rain, their own tears raining down collectively.

“Do you, would you like to come in.” John asked quietly after a few moments, as they were standing in the rain, and his politeness overcame him.

Roger broke away. “ I can’t.” his voice cracked. “I keep hearing Phoebe telling me on the phone. It’s too much. I gotta go.” He slid his hand down Brian’s arm, letting it linger just a few seconds against Brian’s hand as they stared at each other. He broke away and turned to hug John. “See you at the funeral,’ he said as walked toward his car.

Brian rubbed John’s back. “Do you want to talk a bit?”

“I…I don’t know,” John said between tears. “I gotta keep it together. For the kids. for Ronnie.”

“We’ll have time. Here I wrote down the funeral information,” Brian took a neatly folded sheet of paper from his inner jacket pocket. “We’ll meet there and then go to lunch. Just the three of us.”

“Yeah. It’s just the three of us, I suppose. For now.” John said. He took the paper. Brian looked at him curiously, but remained silent as John hugged him, letting the tall man hold and soothe him.

The funeral came and went and the week passed in a blur. Roger and Brian did an interview and talked about Fred’s last days, the intrusive press, the stigma of AIDs and homosexuality, the Mercury Phoenix Trust and a future Memorial Concert. John couldn’t believe they could be so articulate and composed, holding it together. This was such a contrast to himself. He needed to use every ounce of energy to go through the motions, trying to hold the patchwork pieces of his life together as the threads loosened. But not very well.

Veronica tried to be patient but became increasingly annoyed with his detachment. “I know you are hurting. But, we are here. We are living. We need you. All of you. Even when you’re crying you’re beautiful too. The world is beating you down. I’m around for every mood.” (1) She said.

Nights were long and torturous. Veronica got used to sleeping with John flipping around beside her. Memories assaulted him, stirring up tears as he recounted days together that would never be recaptured – or repeated, lurching him into a state of sadness.

Finally, over a week later, exhaustion overcame him, and John fell into a fitful sleep. A breeze circulated through the room and skimmed John, causing him to shiver just as he let himself slide into unconsciousness. Was the window open? he wondered. His eyes flickered, and through them he saw shadows of branches dancing on the bedroom wall, lit by the moonlight. He was too tired to get up to investigate, so he pulled the blanket up around his neck and finally, finally, let his body slide into the rest it craved.

Suddenly he heard that familiar voice, the voice that soothed, cajoled, joked, laughed, created, emoted, sassed, swore, bickered, slayed, agitated, mediated, cackled. Sang. Loved.

“Deacy, Deacy, Darling….”

“Freddie??” John sat up in bed as he glanced toward the wall, seeing Veronica cuddled sleeping. He turned the other way, toward the window, and blinked as his mustached friend came into full view before him: healthy, muscled and fit, dressed in tight white pants with a red sash belt, his white wife beater with the black lightning bold and the red jacket with the similar design.

“Freddie….you look …. like when we were in Japan. We ALL wore white!!”

“Yes! What a wonderful set of shows we had there – over the years, really!” Freddie said wistfully.

Deacy felt a jolt of energy rush through him. He was uplifted more than he had been in weeks. The chill in the room had vanished. “You’re healthy, Freddie. Tell me, please! It was it all a nightmare - and I’ve woken up and you’re still here!!!??”

“No, dear, I’m still dead, sorry to say.” Freddie said in his direct way.

“How? what, why, are you here??” Deacy asked, confused.

“I know you’ve been out of sorts and well, I want to help you move on. You know I love you and it pains me to see you suffering.” Fred replied.

“Freddie, I can’t – I just…I don’t know what my life will be like now. And I don’t know if I can play again. Without you. Inside my heart is breaking (2)…” It felt good for John to express his pent-up feelings.

Freddie nodded. “I understand. But - You have to join the living-your beautiful wife and children. They need you and they want you. They love you so. You don’t have to decide about playing, but if you decide you don’t want to – that’s ok. But you better bloody well play at my Memorial concert!” he laughed slyly.

“I will, Fred…I’ll play for you. Of course. When you died, a light went out, the same light that had guided me, brightened me and calmed me. You saw the best there was in me. Lifted me up when I couldn’t reach. You stood by me and I stood tall. I had your love I had it all. I’m grateful for each day you gave me. Maybe I don’t know that much, but I know this much is true. I was blessed because I was loved by you. (3) I keep remembering our times together-the images just come to me. Over 20 years of images. they’re supposed to be soothing but they just hurt.”

“I know. They won’t always hurt, Dear. As they say, ‘don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater.’” He chuckled. “See them as celebrations of our lives together.”

“I just can’t believe you’re gone.” Deacy felt his eyes brimming with tears, as Freddie looked at him with love and empathy.

Fred nodded. “You all knew, but the finality of it. But our music lives-and me, in it. And there are all those videos. Miami has them. Who knows one day, maybe they’ll be available to the masses!” (If he only knew) Freddie laughed, stretching his arms in a grand, graceful gesture, as only he could do. “Hear my song. Still think of me the way you’ve come to think of me…Just close your pretty eyes and you can be with me. (4) I will be there with you on your journey. When you need me, I’ll wait here in the silence until you come and sit awhile with me.” (5)

Fred continued: “Deacy-You have to choose to live. And love. You have so much love to share-you always have. You have to redirect your love for me elsewhere-to your family. And create new love, perhaps,” Fred winked.

Deacy looked down with a shy smile.

Fred continued, “Well, I’m sure you and Veronica can work on that! And the band-well, Brian and Roger will have their ideas. You need to do what’s best for you. Whatever that is, It will be ok. You don’t have to figure that out now. Any of it. Just be present – in this present. I know it’s not the one you chose. Hell, I assure you it’s not what I chose either. But unlike me, you have a chance for new chapters-with people who love you.”

Deacy took a deep breath, feeling the words and presence of his friend permeate him and a calmness envelop him. You’re safe in my heart, and my heart will go on. (6)

Suddenly, Deacy felt chilly. He put his feet on the floor and leaned forward. “Freddie, stay awhile!! Let me grab my bass and we can jam a bit - Anything, whatever you like.”

“I can’t, Deacy. Now the wind has changed direction and I’ll have to leave.” (7)

“Please Fred,” Deacy said as he lurched to touch Freddie, who backed up toward the window and started to fade. But before he did, he said, “I love you, Deacy. Remember our chat. I’ll always be with you-keeping an eye on you, watching your lovely family, laughing at your jokes. Focus on the future and the love in your life. Don’t let your life pass you by. Weep not for the memories.” (8)

“Freddie, no, no, come back…please, just for a little while longer.” John said frantically and started to cry. Veronica rolled over to John, easing him down on the bed and then swinging her leg and arm onto him, running her fingers through his hair.

“It’s ok, Darling. Did you have a dream about Fred?”

“It wasn’t a dream, Ronnie. He was here. I was awake. We were talking. He looked so good. He….”

“What did he say?” She asked, not debating the interaction he claimed.

“He reminded me of the love I have-with you and the kids. That’s where I belong. I must think of a new life, and I mustn’t give in. (9) And, he said we should …create new love….” He smiled at her.

“Oh, John, what a lovely thought. Let’s pick that up tomorrow.” She giggled. “Now, you need to sleep. Lie back, baby, let me kiss you to sleep.” And she planted soft kisses on his neck and cheek and rested her head on his chest. As John drifted off, their video of The Show Must Go On came to him. The images, the music and lyrics lulled him to sleep. I guess I’m learning. I must be warmer now. I’ll soon be turning, round the corner now. Outside the dawn is breaking but inside in the dark, I’m aching to be free….Fairy tales of yesterday grow but never die, I can fly, my friends. (10)

In a few minutes, Veronica heard his steady breathing of sleep.

She closed her eyes and whispered, “Thank you, dear, sweet Freddie,” before she joined John in a welcoming, deep slumber.

SONG NOTES

All of Me, John Legend (People’s Sexiest Man Alive, 2019!!)

The Show Must Go On, Queen

Because You Loved Me, Celine Dion

Teo Torriatte, Queen

You Raise Me Up, Josh Groban

My Heart Will Go On, Celine Dion (wow, two songs by CD, Ay, Caramba!)

Border Song, Elton John

I Will Remember You, Sarah McLachlan

Memory, From the Musical “Cats”

The Show Must Go On, Queen

#john deacon #john deacon x reader #queen fanfiction #queen fandom #freddie mercury #johnica #deacury #queen fan fic #john deacon fanfiction #john deacon fanfic

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alloveroliver · 4 years

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Author Interview

I was tagged by @peacheat and @dear-mrs-otome THANK YOU GUYS!!! (I also added more Qs if you want to answer those as well *sweats*)

Name: Ash Knight

Fandoms: Now: MLQC, Ikemen Revolution, Ikemen Vampire, Ikemen Sengoku, Mystic Messenger, annnnnd one or two other otomes I like lol. Want to do in the future: Obey Me (Currently playing) Ikemen Genjiden (translating got to be too much but its GOOD!) Tokyo Debunkers (when it comes out in April!!!)

Where You Post: Mostly Tumblr but also Ao3!

Most Popular One-Shot: By far Victor x MC “In This Moment.” I’m glad cuz I spent a lot of time on this one and I love the concept of Victor stopping time because he know’s he’s going to miss MC <3

Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story: Mmm, I don’t have any muli fics yet BUT I do have 10 chapters of my blood thirsty fics! they are all oneshots though.

Favorite Story You Wrote: Its actually my first Oliver fic I posted around Aug of 2018 (Omg have I been doing this for that long???) It needs to be rewritten BUT heres the link. Oliver x MC “Giving Up Control” I still think about this fic often lmfao. Femdoming Oliver is 🤤👌

Story You Were Nervous to Post: Ooof, a recent Oliver fic. Only because it had alcohol themes and smoliver asking her on a date. Just due to his curse and things I didn't want to change too much but it was all consensual with adult Oliver. I was just nervous some people would read into it and take it the wrong way :( Oliver x MC “In A Perfect World You’re Happy With Me” (Looking back at it, it actually got a good response! I am surprised cuz I posted it then tried to put it out of my mind lol. #thanksanxiety

How You Choose Your Titles: First thing that comes to mind. Song lyrics, one word that sticks out in the fic. Or if its a common word or a word/title I’ve used before I put it into One Look Reverse Dictionary and find a similar word that means the sameish thing. I don’t dwell on titles too much tbh.

Completed: Last I counted, I had over 500 short stories under my belt. You can read them all on my blog but not everything was put into my masterlist. This was just due to the tumblr purge we had and I had to make a new masterlist since a lot of my fics got shadowbanned due to the tagging system back then. I didnt wanna repost them all lol

Incomplete: I have an entire spreadsheet that I plop all my ideas on... and it is FULL. I organize it by fandom, suitor, and fluff vs. smut. Ummmmmm.... See below: Coming soon lol.

Do You Outline? I usually start writing when I have an idea and if I need to step away from my computer I will do a quick outline. AKA just some quick bullet points of what I was thinking would happen next lol. If I ever take the time to properly do a full outline, I 100% go off the rails and do my own thing away from the outline. I am what is called a ‘discovery writer’ lol. I discoverer my own story as i write it then go back and edit it and act like I knew what I was doing all along lmfao.

Coming Soon/Not Yet Started: I have 3 substantial WIPS (like 2-3k words) I bounce between that I’m working on. Victor x Mc, Vincent x MC and Faust x MC.

A plan to do part 2 of Gavin x MC’ s ”Distortion” .

I also have an long running AU fic with Gavin x MC (8k currently) but that is far away from being done lol.

There is also an 11 chapter fic I am planning. I have 2 chapters written but I cant seem to figure out one major plot detail and its keeping me from getting it done anytime soon :(

There is a chapter fic im writing for a cradle born MC, however its a mesh of our MC and my OC and its kinda complicated. Also its fluff and I’m less interested in writing that BUT I really want to share this story <3

Valentines day is actually prob going to be the next thing yall see from me tbh and that is TBD

Do You Accept Prompts? I used to every once in a while but I have so many WIPS and no personal computer at home rn. (SOON THOUGH!) So I don’t have the chance to write as much in my free time as I used to. I’ll take prompts but I let them sit in my ask box until I am able to write them <3. I am not the person to ask people to stop sending them, cuz I like to see what yall want me to write and take that into consideration for sure. I like taking asks for Thirsty Thursday (even if its not thurs, I will hold onto them until then) and answer them 😍 I love those because more people are involved other than me and I like being a part of something bigger than myself 🤗

Upcoming Story You Are Most Excited to Write: My Victor x MC story. Its UMMMMM........ ITS SLOW BURN YALL. LIKE WHO AM I?! lmfao.

*(I am going to personally add a few questions to this tag that I am interested in knowing about others as well lol)*

What do you use to edit?: I pay for Grammarly (its AMAZING even the free version is super worth it)

For word meanings, synonyms, and better wording I use OneLook Reverse Dictionary ALL THE TIME for every single fic. (and like I said before, to help with titles)

When I feel like something is off and grammarly doesn’t quite know and I don’t know, I put the fic through Hemmingway Editor. It tells you HOW readable a sentence is. If its hard to read I rewrite it and make things a bit simpler for the eyes. Its free in the browser.

Writing setup: Ideally, the sun is coming in through the window, It’s cool inside, I’m wearing a fuzzy sweater, I have hot coffee or tea, and my head phones are in.

I listen to lofi music station on youtube but If its distracting I put on lofi without lyrics. I love THIS playlist. (this is live so it’ll prob break but here’s an alt link to their offline playlist) If I am in an upbeat mood I like “Electropose” music. Or I listen to the ‘setting’ a fic is in. Like if its raining in the story, I put on rain ambiance and things like that.

Do you use a beta reader? No 😬, not really. Anytime I have someone beta read and they comment on the content and not the editing I get way too nervous to post the fic and suddenly it get sick to my stomach laskjdlsdj. I trust a couple gals to beta read in an editing mind set but I don’t bother them all the time. I like to go balls to the walls and trust grammarly, post the damn thing, and bite my nails hoping for the best.

Where do you get your writing inspo?: Bruh, #1 READING! Reading books, reading fics, reading summaries for things. Also, reading the routes in otomes, watching anime, and letting my mind wonder lol. I also like to chat with people on discord and let the stories unfold. Inspo has also come from a lot of my dreams tbh. My dreams are hella vivid and I try to write them down when I wake up if they are interesting lol.

Can we get a quote from an upcoming WIP?:

[ Without cars and crowds, the evening wind picked up nothing but serene sounds. Crickets gently chirped and leafs quietly brushed one another. The branches rustled together, making an organic symphony that the wind carried up to the balcony you leaned on.

*****’s warm hands ran up and down your forearms, warming your chilled skin. From behind, he bent forward and nipped at the shell of your ear.

“Is that better?” His silky hands moved faster, creating heated friction.

“Mmm,” You relished in the sensation. “Much better.”

His gentle chuckle against your pulse made you wiggle into him. ***** pressed his solid chest against your back and sighed. “Maybe if you were wearing more than just my shirt, you wouldn’t be so chilly.”

“I just want to be out here for a moment. The fresh air is nice.” You pressed your lips together into a small smile and angled your face up to him. “Don’t you agree?” ]

tagging: @somethinglacking @pseudofaux @tarralin @steph-writing @kiarigirl @otonymous @jennacat84 @xathia-89 @toloveawarlord @moonlit--river @thequeenshuntress @thirstyforbishiesimagines <3 Honestly I want to tag more people but I don’t wanna be annoying SO if you do this feel free to tag me cuz I am soooooo curious about other writers! Lets be friendsssss <3

#ash speaks #ash ask meme #fanfic writing #this post is shadowbanned due to links

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funkymbtifiction · 5 years

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Hello Char

I finally went through the tags like you always tell us to do, and I wish I had done it sooner. There’s a lot of information in there that I wouldn’t have known have I simply sent an ask and got a reply to it.

I’ve been reading the INFP x ENFP tag, because even though I’ve written a very long post about my journey from an ISTJ to an INFP and you posted it in this lovely blog, I started questioning my type again shortly after. It drives me crazy! I wish I could settle on something and close that door for good since it’s been years since I started.

A lot of things caught my attention in that tag’s posts that made me believe I’m an Ne dom. Like how ENFPs want to share their art and opinions and beliefs, while INFPs are completely content with keeping it to themselves. And I giggled when I read that you don’t keep a journal because you think there’s no point to it if no one is going to read it. Even though I journal and I feel naked without a notebook and a pen with me, I feel exactly the same way. A while ago, I called a friend of mine “my diary” because he received an email from me everyday where I wrote about my day and thoughts and feelings during it. And I noticed the difference that made me question my love for journaling. I go months and years without doing it when its just for me, and when I do it it’s short and to the point .. something to get over with. But when the same events were written about for someone else .. man, all the poetic-ness and humor in me came out and they sounded so much more interesting and were so long. I never missed a day and I never had to force myself. It was such a happy little project to write journals to my human diary.

The same goes for writing stories. The only time I actually sat down and attempted to do it (I get many ideas for stories that I think could be special, but never so something about them) was when I wanted to gift to a friend as a Christmas present. The fact that it was going to be read gave me motivation and desire. I’d never write a story just for me, what would I do with it lol? I need that communication of giving and receiving. I don’t want to share it to get appreciation and acknowledgment, I’d love to get bad feedback actually (in a respectful way) .. the judgment of my work doesn’t matter, I just want a judgment, you know what I mean?

I also read in the tags that another way to distinguish them is to look at our moral judgments and imagine someone challenging them. Not only was I confused to why I wouldn’t want someone challenging them (again, respectfully) because those kind of discussions are my guilty pleasure, but I struggled to find a moral judgment of mine that was “done”, so to say. Whatever I considered I felt wasn’t strong enough because I could be swayed to think otherwise. And that sounds like dominant Ne rather than Fi.

I feel I have pretty good Si though. I’m complimented on my memory often. Though to be honest, no matter how much I read about Si, I’m still not sure what it is. General information seems just like that, general. When something is explained to me I need examples from real life, personal ones are preferred. It’s the only way I understand and have that aha moment. I mean, you say your Si sucks, but you remember all this mbti information you’ve read and studied and you’re able to recall it and implement it where it’s needed (asks). Doesn’t that mean your Si is actually awesome? I don’t know. I never learn from my mistakes though and I do them an impressive amount of time over and over again. They say that madness is doing the same things over and over again, so I must be the maddest mad hatter around because I never learn. I either forget that I swore never to try this or do that or go back to that person, or I find reasons to because I see a potential that it might turn out different, which is crazy because after 20 times one should quit. All day long I’ve happily chatting to this friend when only three nights ago I swear to god I never will again because she’s not a good friend to me. oh and it’s about my 14th swear to never go back to her. Even god stopped taking me seriously and I bet he’s laughing and having a bet with his angels “how long do you think she’ll last this time before she forgets or tried again?”

I think your real-life friends who are interested in learning about their type are very lucky to have you. Because they don’t have to do much work, you’ll figure out their type for them through interaction sooner or later. I wish someone would do that for me I’m TIRED OF DEBATING AND GOING BACK AND FORTH.

Love this blog, it’s my bedtime story <3

Yup, you sound like a Ne-dom. I could have written most of this. (And you’re very kind and get a gold star for using the tags. ;)

In reference to inferior Si, you are correct in that I am hyperbolic in describing how bad my Si is. It’s not that bad. I am the queen of facts. People comment on it all the time. I am not that great with specifics in large doses, but I can retain semi-decent amounts of information with little effort. I don’t necessarily notice and remember certain things (like a person’s eye color or specific physical details about their appearance) but whatever I am interested in, I retain. And in a very Ne-dom way, I have a wide breadth of “interests” – that being, just about anything not-boring that catches my eye. I can tell you one minute how they dyed fabric in Ancient Rome, or that they used urine to make the color “yellow” for paint during the Renaissance, and then mention that Margaret Beaufort’s royal emblem was a portcullis, and then say that scientists are discovering just how intelligent octopuses are, far more so than they thought before, followed up by what an effing disgrace D&D made of Stannis Baratheon in GOT, coz I’ve read the books and their version of Stannis ain’t Stannis. Ya feel me? Basically, I will read almost anything – and often do. I have a book on my nightstand called “Quackery: A Brief History of the Worst Ways to Cure Everything.” The really hilarious part? I already know a lot of it. How? Um. Reading? Ravenclaw.

So yes, inferior Si is not as bad as retaining information as it may sound. It is worse at being able to focus on and handle details for long periods of time. I run the risk of becoming TOO micro-obsessed / picky and not being able to sort out the right ones, especially on a creative project. An example of this is the point I reach in editing a book where I wind up doing something lame, like finding a font irritating all of a sudden and resizing / sizing / resizing / sizing the document’s size on my screen in an attempt to make it aesthetically pleasing, so I can focus and keep going. That is when I am just a comma away from going crazy. :P

It is actually easier for me to type people upon casual acquaintance than having known them for a long time, because familiarity brings in a bias and stacks up opposing arguments – Occam’s Razor is the best approach to MBTI typing: the easiest explanation is often correct. More information means more reasons to consider multiple types and that sends my Ne off on less realistic possibilities. I was able to help my INFP co-mod realize herself as a Fi-dom, because though we work together on Funky, I had limited interactions with her enough to sense a lot of Fi undercurrents to her decisions. If I had been listening to her justifications for why she was such and such a type, and not HOW she was telling me things, the issue would have become clouded by her self-opinion, not my observations.

We can be our own biggest problem when self-typing, because often we say or argue what we believe is true, when it is not the truth. You can SAY you are good at something and in the process of saying it, prove you are not. You can tell me how good you are at rational thinking, but if how you are telling me is heavily colored through your emotions, and everything about your life decisions screams otherwise – I am not going to buy it. To find your type, you have to cut through you own lies and be honest about yourself. To find your Enneagram, the same method applies. It’s not what you say you do, but what you actually do, and why you do it.

What’s the easiest explanation for yourself? What conclusion requires the least amount of explanation? If I wanted to consider INFP for myself, I’d have to scrape the barrel hard to come up with any examples of me using Fi in a Fi-dom way, but I can relatively easily point to tert-Te examples on a daily basis.

Based on what you told me, I’d say you have more Ne than Fi or Si, in part because I see no evidence of Fi dom in how your express yourself in this post.

- ENFP Mod

PS: You will know your own erroneous perception when other people comment on it and point out how that isn’t true, as you did with me when you referenced me saying my Si sucks yet I can retain and apply all kinds of theoretical information and spit it out whenever anyone has a question. Pay attention when people point out that stuff, they are proving to you WHO YOU ARE, not who you THINK you are.

#question #enfp #mbti #infp #enfp x infp #infp x enfp #introverted sensing #submission

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fleetofshippyships-archive · 5 years

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WIP tag meme

aaah, I was tagged over 2 months ago by @parkkate O.O sorry for not doing this sooner @parkkate XD I’ve been offline for a few months! Just now catching up on everything I missed! but I’m ignoring asks for now because my inbox is a mess

The Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous.

I’m gonna cheat and only do this for my drarry wips, since I post everything else on another account now, and tbh I have so many drarrys it’s still gonna be a long ass post XD

Oh man *sweats nervously* I’m a bit of a hoarder in all aspects of my life...I don’t even know where to begin!

I’m not tagging anyone cos I was tagged 2 months ago and I have no idea who has and hasn’t done this and don’t want to be a pain. But if you wanna do it, go a head, and please tag me so I can be nosy and hopefully find someone with a wip problem as bad as my own so I can be less embarrassed XD

Also I’m putting this under a cut for reasons

1. 4th year au idea

Sooooo, right off the bat, I often open a new file to jot down an idea even though I have docs specifically to dump ideas...and then at some point during the process of jotting down basic details of the idea...I start writing it....? This is one such occurrence...but I had to open it to check...and now I want to keep writing it XD

But also yikes it’s super dark

2. ... 4th year au idea

I swear, this is an entirely different wip and I am going ‘wtf’ at myself because wtf that’s confusing! I had also totally forgotten the existence of this before opening it....probably because of the name of it and the only reason I apparently have 2 files the exact same name is that one is a word doc and one is a libre office doc XD

3. drarry character death idea

Soooo, I need to stop turning idea files into wips without changing the names because I actually forget they are wips apparently

Also, I really want to finish this RIGHT NOW IT HURTS SO GOOD GIMME GIMME GIMME

4. Veela fic followup

LOL LOL LOL I’m rewriting my veela fic so I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to end up doing with this XD I might have to try and merge it with the re-write if the story has a similar outcome when I’m done. or maybe I’ll just turn this into its own thing....

5. Veela fic present tense

I really need to get back to working on this, this is actually the full re-write that re-doing the tenses spawned...I was binge writing this before my life went to hell but then my life went to hell and I went offline for like three months and didn’t do any writing or anything XD

although, the last time I looked at it I got the itch to change it back to past tense so who fucking knows what I’ll do with it now

6. Veela fic Draco pov

Curse my obsession with alternate povs of the same story and Draco for being such a good angsty pov

7. Veritaserum idea start

At least this one has ‘start’ in it so I know it is in fact a wip and not just an idea outline XD

7. Veritaserum

So, turns out I started that fic over in a new file and just left the old one lying around XD I do that too often. I should delete that other one...

Also...this better not turn into another ‘Amortentia’ with me unable to think of a fucking title and going with the file name because lame

This is also my first time trying to do god’s eye 3rd person instead of 3rd person pov...also first time trying to do this weird structure thing...I dunno but I like it XD

8. CTS followup

9. CTS sequel

Two separate followups set at different times in the same story verse... I hate myself. I love them both. I can’t pick which one to stop writing so I’m gonna keep them both around and try and make them merge at some point...

10. MMB saying sorry

11. another erase the shame

12. next erase the shame

I work on followups and lose interest so often (usually because people bug me for followups and I get very ‘fuck you’ about it and stop writing them...but I keep them around and tinker with them every now and then soooo they’re still technically wips

13. Tea and Coffee oneshot series (Tea and Coffee, Coffee and Dark Marks, The Cottage Kitchen, next untitled one)

There’s also a present tense version of the first one of those *sweats nervously* first 3 are finished, of course, but my original purpose is lost to them becoming a long fic soo....gonna merge them into one long fic soon...once I decide what tense I like better......kill me now

14. Communion of the Soul (folder name)

This is the sequel to One Touch and this is spread across 5 files because apparently I did that and even though each time I got to work on it I have to figure out which file holds which part of the sequel timeline and which I feel like working on...I have yet to merge them into one file to make my life easier...

15. Crumbling Facade

ugh working on this always makes me want to re-write restraint and actually put in the major plot line, or what was supposed to be Harry’s major plot line before the relationship crap got away from me and I had to cut out all the plot stuff because by the time I got around to addressing it, it started reading like a completely different fic and I had to cut a huge chunk and end it instead, because back then I sucked more than I do now and couldn’t juggle

sooo...I still work on this in starts and stops and then get frustrated for having to stick to Restraint’s chain of events when I have better ideas now for working in Harry’s plot about his damn magic problem and ARRGEHGEHGFVEDHDBVUIOFNBFKDB EFBVJ

I should just let Crumbling Facade take me where it wants to take me and fuck Restraint

16. Potter’s Insatiable Heart

This is my longest wip at 130k XD and I’m stalling now because if I keep going with it where I was intending to go it will end up my longest fic and I’m getting intimidated by the length and how much work it will be to edit that long of a fic so I just go in and write a few paragraphs now and again, get scared of the length and move on to another wip XD

I also periodically binge read this bitch because I love it to death even though it’s severely flawed XD

17. Corset Drarry

oh boy, when I started writing this this I was weirded out by writing a kink I didn’t understand and kind of tailed off and left it...then I did kinktober for voltron and now I’m laughing at myself because corsets and lingerie is so fucking tame after that kinktober list and all the the crap I wrote for it XD

18. Music in the Periphery

Emily bugs me about finishing this a lot...I bug me about finishing it, progress is non-existent because I have a clear plan for it and when I have a clear plan I can’t write for shit

19. Saying Sorry (Round 2) (MMB)

I gotta kick that habit of starting over with something but keeping the first attempt and still working on it parallel to the second attempt, because then I wind up with 2 fics too similar to each other to post both and I’m completely unable to pick which one I like more *facepalm*

Also, MMB is dead if I can’t stop turning the next fic attempts into angst, I just look at that big fluffy mess and want to angst it all up

20. scrapped MMB ficlets - theo’s letter

not technically drarry thought the greater series is drarry...torn between making it mmb or making it its own fic for a rare pair

21. Weather the Storm

*cries* my 6th year war au, I have such plans for this, but the plans get in the way of writing =(

22. Soulmate AU (folder name)

fucking hell, this is 10+ files and I’m not naming all of them, current count is 5 completed versions 60k+ each, 1 incomplete alternate version, all of which I’m seriously unsatisfied with, none of which I can bear to delete, all of which I periodically go and tinker with, thus leaving them all wips i’m such a fucking hoarder but also I have never gotten over all the awful comments that were on the original soulmate fic on ffnet before my purge and now I can’t ever be satisfied unless it is perfect and wont result in such horrible comments again

23. Turnabout (folder name)

Once again, multiple wips in here of the same 60k finished fic I’ve been unhappy with since the moment I finished it and keep trying to fix by starting over and changing things here and there to change the course of the story. Honestly ready to hit the delete button with this one unless my latest attempt pans out, liking it so far buuuut I’m a mess about my writing so who knows

In the Ways that Matter was based off this fic XD

24. Dependency

Oh boy, I abandoned this cos it was so dark I got too uncomfortable writing it...I’ve since started revisiting it after being in the Voltron fandom gave me a new tolerance range for dark content XD

Plan on posting this on anon if I ever finish it, obviously changing the title XD it stopped being relevant after the first 30k anyway

25. Dependency V2

LOL light version of the above that removes most of the dark aspects while maintaining the core plot, but I’m finding it a bit dull XD not sure how long I’ll keep trying to chug along with it

26. *censored title*

hahahaha omg why is this in a different subfolder, this is actually one of the soulmate au ones only it’s actually a spin off au of the original soulmate one I from ffnet and therefore it’s new ground and I’m less unhappy with it

.....I’m probably going to stop working on turnabout today and work on this instead now

(censoring the name because I might post this on anon because I’m too scared to post another drarry soulmate fic under my own name)

27. Retrospection

Sooo, I’m always on and off this fic cos it triggers my anxiety and depression, but fuck that I want to write it so I keep trying XD

I’m also thinking of splitting the two main plots and only going with 1 and using the other to write another story....see if that eases how difficult it is for me to write without self triggering

28. Sequel to mornings

29. Sunrise (loose prequel to mornings)

30. Surrender

I had no idea what this was, opened it and then holy shit THIS BITCH, THIS SLOW BURN FRIENDS TO LOVERS PIECE OF BULLSHIT. I DON’T WRITE SLOW BURN! I DON’T WRITE FRIENDS TO LOVERS. I REFUSE.

but also I really really really love what I wrote so far and now I’m itching to write more *cries* making this list is leaving me with so many open files to work on

31. day 2 ass worship

32. day 3 sensory deprivation

*laughs nervously* the kinktober oneshots that starting turning into a long fic hahahaha cos I really needed more wips

33. Perception of Angels

*wistful sigh* one day I will be able to finish a heavily plot driven story full of fantasy elements and creatures and magic I made up, and when that day somes, Perception of Angels....or that timetravel war au drarry fic idea I have sitting around.....which isn’t on this list only cos I’m not stupid enough to start writing it

So that’s all the drarry files in my wip folder.... I also have heaps more for other ships and fandoms, but I’m keeping that separate =)

And...now I have some writing to go do, cos after 2 months of being unable to write thanks to the bullshit in my life, I started binge writing again 2 days ago =) and opening a few of these to remind myself what they were has a lit a fire under my ass

#*#tag game #wip meme #i have too many wips #and this is only the drarry ones #and tbh there's another folder i didn't check because i'm pretending it doesn't exist #because they're all super plotty things and i do.not.have.the.time #i wish i could feel more secure in my writing so i could just post some of the completed things #and stop messing with them in a vain effort to make them perfect

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lizzybeth1986 · 6 years

Text

Music Ask - Queen Edition

@callmetippytumbles tagged me on this, stating that she was sure there would be a Queen song for every question on this ask. Well Ima prove her right! 😂

So since they’re all going to be Queen (unless otherwise specified), I’m going to replace band name with album name instead.

1: A song you like with a color in the title:

🎶 White Man🎶 from A Day At The Races

“What is left of your dream?

Just the words on your stone

A man who learned how to teach

Then forgot how to learn"

Part of me loves this song, but part of me is also is uneasy about it. The song is supposed to be from the PoV of an unspecified Native American tribe, speaking of how colonization has destroyed everything they have stood and lived for - but it’s written by a British white man, Brian May - and we have no idea whether he consulted a Native American for this or not. If he hadn’t, or hadn’t gotten consent, it would be him speaking in the voice of the oppressed while still holding the privilege of being White…and that’s a little disturbing. I love the song, and Brian May is my favourite Queen member, but I can’t ignore that this song has problems.

2: A song you like with a number in the title

🎶'39🎶 from A Night At The Opera

For the earth is old and grey, little darling we’ll away

But my love this cannot be

For so many years have gone though I’m older but a year

Your mother’s eyes from your eyes cry to me.

Besides being an ace guitarist, Brian May is also an Astrophysicist with a Doctorate!! xD And this song really shows us his background in that area: it’s fashioned in the song tradition of a sea shanty, but is about outer space and time relativity. I called this "the plot of Interstellar, 39 years before Interstellar”.

3: A song that reminds you of summertime:

🎶Seaside Rendezvous🎶 from A Night At The Opera

One of Queen’s few vaudeville tracks xD

4: A song that reminds you of someone you would rather forget about:

Thankfully I got into Queen loooong after I broke up with my ex. BUT “More than Words” by Extreme and Aerosmith’s “I Don’t Wanna Miss A Thing” hit very particular sore spots coz he dedicated them to me AFTER dedicating them to a girl he always had a thing for (long story gah).

5: A song that needs to be played LOUD:

🎶March of the Black Queen🎶 from Queen II

6: A song that makes want to dance:

🎶Don’t Stop Me Now🎶 from The Game

This one was the very first Queen song I actually listened to, and every time I hear it I wind up doing Hana’s happy dance in my seat 😂

7: A song to drive to:

HAHA there are two! One by Roger Taylor and the other from Brian’s first solo album:

🎶I’m In Love With My Car🎶 from A Night At The Opera

This is a song by Roger Taylor, and it’s not really his best (he’s capable of far superior tracks: Tenement Funster, Radio Gaga, These Are The Days of Our Lives, Small), but it garnered a lot of money and royalties by virtue of being the B-Side of Bohemian Rhapsody.

🎶Driven by You🎶 from Back to the Light

This song ended up being used as a theme for commercials for Ford cars in the early nineties, as I recall.

8: A song about drugs or alcohol:

Drugs: 🎶Don’t Stop Me Now🎶 from The Game

I mean, just listen to some of the lyrics! “Floating around in ecstasy”? “Tiger leaping through the sky defying the laws of gravity”? “Travelling at the speed of light”? I personally think the songs about a whole lot more, but you can’t deny the narrator sounds very trippy lol.

Alcohol: 🎶Killer Queen🎶 from Sheer Heart Attack

She keeps Moet et Chandon in a pretty cabinet

Let them eat cake, she says, just like Marie Antoinette…

Not about alcohol really, but it does mention it.

9: A song that makes you happy:

🎶You’re My Best Friend🎶 from A Night At The Opera

So John Deacon wrote this lovely sweet song for his wife, and it’s got the most adorable lyrics ever.

Ooh I’ve been wandering round

But I still come back to you

In rain or shine

You’ve stood by me girl

I’m happy at home

You’re my best friend

10: A song that makes you sad:

🎶Mother Love🎶 from Made in Heaven.

This is spoken of as being the last song Freddie ever recorded before he died, and his vocals are OFF-THE-ROOF powerful here. Two verses are sung by Freddie, and the last is sung by Brian May, who co-wrote the song (because Freddie felt too worn and weak and tired to continue recording, and told Brian he would return and do the rest. He never did). To hear Brian complete the song because Freddie has gone…is quite heartbreaking, actually. I’d definitely recommend everyone listen to this gem.

11: A song that you never get tired of:

🎶Teo Torriatte🎶 from A Day at the Races.

What I love about Queen is how appreciative they are of their overseas fans, esp those who loved them at the very start of their career. Way before Bohemian Rhapsody placed Queen on the map, they had a very devoted fanbase in Japan, and I believe this song was written specially for them. It also appeals to me as a super mushy romantic xD

12: A song from your preteen years:

EVERYTHING PRECEEDS MY PRETEEN YEARS. Okay but definitely this one we heard a lot:

🎶We are the Champions🎶 from News of the World

13: One of your favorite 80’s songs:

🎶Who Wants To Live Forever🎶 from A Kind of Magic

Another Brian May gem. I tend to associate this a lot with my Liam MC, Esther - esp for most of Book 2. It’s a beautiful track and was used as part of the Highlander movie OST.

14: A song that you would love played at your wedding:

We never had wedding dances at our weddings, and Queen is usually not wedding material haha but here’s some songs that would go well!

🎶You’re My Best Friend🎶 from A Night At The Opera

🎶Teo Torriatte🎶 from A Day At The Races

🎶Bijou🎶 from Innuendo

Bijou is very interesting because it was structured as an “inside-out” version of the usual song - there would be instrumental (guitar, in this case) where lyrics would be and lyrics where you would typically find a guitar solo. Haunting.

15: A song that is a cover by another artist:

🎶Goin’ Back🎶 by Larry Lurex

This was the first ever recording we have of Freddie Mercury, under the name of Larry Lurex. The original was written by Carole King and Gerry Goffin. A sampling of it is used at the very end of Mother Love, as a way of rewinding to the beginning…a symbolic goodbye to Freddie by going back to the first words that sparked his career.

Damn. I’m emotional now. 😭😭

16: One of your favorite classic songs:

Most people would go for 🎶Bohemian Rhapsody🎶 - and for good reason - but I think 🎶Prophet’s Song🎶 from the same album is equally deserving of this. It’s beautiful, has a lot of echoes that make it surreal and ethereal to me, and very power-packed vocals and lyrics.

17: A song that you’d sing a duet to on karaoke:

🎶Love of My Life🎶 from A Night At The Opera.

The fun thing about any Queen concert is that the audience has always been as much participant as spectator. LoML is one of the few ballads that the band used to interact with the audience, who were always ready to sing along. Freddie started this tradition in his live concerts, and Brian carried it on when he and Roger went back to touring as Queen +. To this day, you will always find a Queen audience being as involved in this song as the people on stage. It’s beautiful to watch. No Queen concert is complete without the audience crooning this ballad.

18: A song from the year that you were born:

🎶A Kind of Magic🎶 from the album of the same name (released 1986)

19: A song that makes you think about life:

🎶A Winter’s Tale🎶 from Made in Heaven

This happens to be one of Freddie’s last written compositions, and it’s unbelievably beautiful and dreamy. He had very few months left to live when he wrote this gem of a song, and there’s so much joy and hope and tranquility in it, and the moment you listen you will inevitably feel a sense of peace washing over you. I can imagine sitting by a lake alone in Switzerland, looking out at the sky and the snow, just listening to the song and basking in all it has to offer.

🎶Miracle🎶 from The Miracle

This is also a very hope-filled song, composed by Freddie shortly after he was diagnosed and told he had very little time left. It’s a very idealistic view of the world, but yeah I really like this one too. Just not as much as I like A Winter’s Tale. 😂

20: A song that has many meanings to you:

🎶White Queen (As It Began)🎶 from Queen II

On one level it’s about a girl who cannot see and the boy who loves her. On another I feel like it can also be about the sadness of unrequited love in general, and of an almost-relationship.

21: A favorite song with a person’s name in the title:

🎶Delilah🎶 from Innuendo

This song was about Freddie’s cat. It’s fun xD

22: A song that moves you forward:

🎶Death On Two Legs🎶 from A Night At the Opera

I can be a spectacularly petty bitch sometimes, and this number can be so vicious it satisfies those vengeful, bitchy parts of me lol. A lot of the lines in this song are particularly cutting, and it should be because it was written for someone who was fleecing the band dry in their early days.

23: A song that you think everybody should listen to:

🎶Track 13/Untitled🎶 from Made in Heaven.

Most people might be put off by this track because it’s 22:33 whopping minutes long, and it’s an endless loop of sounds but OMG is it trippy. Mostly a lot of synthetic, loops, Freddie saying words, and this overall ethereal, otherworldly vibe. Most Queen fans interpret this piece as a depiction of Freddie’s journey to heaven, and call it “Ascension”. Kind of like a requiem, a fitting goodbye to Freddie. I can see why. I mean I can always lie down, close my eyes and immerse myself in the tranquility of this track. All 22.33 minutes of it. It’s a strange recommendation, but in my mind a fitting one.

24: A song by a band/group you wish were still together:

🎶The Show Must Go On🎶 from Innuendo.

Queen aren’t together because their frontman passed away, not entirely out of choice 😟 (okay and John Deacon didn’t want to be involved anymore later on). This was written and composed by Brian May, but Freddie really makes this song his own in the singing. The way he hits some of those notes - at that stage in his life - is spine tingling.

25: A song by an artist no longer living:

🎶Lily of the Valley🎶, written by Freddie Mercury from Sheer Heart Attack.

#not choices #music ask #queen #i told you i'd do it tippy #all of these songs are amazing

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