#Been meaning to write this one for quite a while

[shiranuieditorial]

Japanese → English translation of an excerpt from an interview with MUCC lead vocalist Tatsurou (逹瑯):

A: Efforts to maintain relationships can feel somewhat negative, don’t you think? Essentially, it means that someone has to push themselves beyond their limits. I believe that in any relationship, there are moments when we must endure something for the sake of the other person; however, that endurance shouldn’t have to be an unbearable sacrifice. At most, it’s about saying, “I’ll hold back on this part of myself to support this aspect of you,” which is a more positive form of patience.

Q: I think it’s impossible to maintain a balance where everyone endures equally. But why do you think we manage to get so close to that ideal? It doesn’t seem like we’re diligently directing traffic, after all.

A: Indeed, it doesn’t appear that we’re directing traffic. Just… I don’t really understand it well myself, but surprisingly, even when I have to endure or feel stressed about something, I tend to forget it after a night’s sleep (laughs). It doesn’t completely vanish, but I find that I stop caring about it. My anger and frustration don’t last very long. So, I just think, “Well, whatever.” (laughs)

Q: The fact that you possess such a character is what makes you who you are, Tatsurou-san. I feel that this is one of the reasons for MUCC’s natural continuity.

A: I’m not entirely sure about myself; however, if I were the type who bottled things up and accumulated stress, I might have exploded at one of the other members at some point. If there had been even one member like that, things might have been different; but in reality, I see up close how everyone else is also struggling silently and doing their best without saying anything. For instance—Miya has an immense workload in terms of music, so, I imagine he must be going through a lot as well. Thus, even if there are moments when I think, “Wow!” I also think, “Well, it can’t be helped.” Because of this understanding, I don’t feel the need to complain.

Q: All four of you share a positive sense of “It can’t be helped” towards each other. Moreover, the parts where you play “MUCC’s Tatsurou” or “MUCC’s Miya” are quite minimal.

A: Yes. Also, for example, in the case of vocalists from other bands, they might have many invisible tasks to handle; however, in my case, I don’t often think “It’s unfair that I’m doing all the work while everyone else is slacking off.” Since I chose this position, I think it can’t be helped. Ultimately, despite everything, I believe we maintain a balance. When watching the rhythm section during individual practice before recording sessions, they seem to be under considerable pressure; they start recording much earlier than me and need to prepare quickly. Seeing everyone creating backing tracks in the studio looks incredibly demanding; plus, since our leader can be quite strict, they’re probably feeling overwhelmed (laughs). Of course, my own lyric writing can also become quite demanding later on; however, in that sense, everyone experiences similar levels of hardship. It feels like everything balances out in some way.

Image alt text for the original Japanese article:

係を保つための努力って、なんかネガティブじゃないですか。 それはつまり誰かが無理をするってことだし。 お互い、人間関係のためになにかしらの我慢をする部分というのはあると思うけど、それは我慢しきれない我慢ではないというか。 せいぜいそれは「相手のこういうところを立ててあげるために、自分のここは我慢よう」みたいなポジティブな我慢じゃないかと思うから。

———全員が公平に我慢する、というバランスを保つことも不可能だと思うんです。 だけどそれにすごく近いことができているのはなぜだと思います？ 一生懸命に交通整理しているようにも見えないし。

たしかに交通整理はしてないですね。 ただ。 。 。 。 。 。 よくわかんないけど、俺ね、意外と、我慢したりとか、ストレスたまるようなことがあっても、ひと晚経つと忘れちゃうんですよ（笑）。 ホントにきれいに消えちゃうわけじゃないんだけど、どうでも良くなってしまう。 怒りとかモヤモヤとかが、そんなに持続しないんで。 だから、ま、いいやって（笑）。

———その性格の持ち主が達瑯さんである、ということ。 それがムックの自然な継続の一因でもあるような気がします。

自分ではよくわかんないけど。 ただ、俺が結構我慢しちゃってストレスをため込むようなタイプだったりしたら、それが爆発したときにメンバーの誰かにあたってたかもしれないとは思う。 俺にかぎらず、1人でもそういうメンバーがいたら違ってたかもしれない。 だけど実際には「こいつも大变なのに、なにも言わずにがんばってるしなあ」というのを間近で見てるから。 それこそミヤも音楽的な意味での仕事量がすごく多いから、大变だろうなと思うし。 だからなんか「うわっ！」う思うことがあったとしても「ま、しょうがねえか」う思うし。 そこで文句を言おうとも思わないから、別に。

———4人全員がお互いに対してポジティブな意味での「しようがない」という感情を持っている。 しかも「ムックの達瑯」とか「ムックのミヤ」というものを演じている部分がきわめて小さいというか。

うん。 あと、たとえばほかのバンドのボーカルの場合、目に見えない仕事が多いんじゃないかと思うんですよ。 だけど俺の場合「俺ばっか仕事で、みんなズルいよ」と思うこともそんなにないし。 このポジションを選んだ以上、しょうがないと思うし。 やっぱ、なんだかんだでバランスがとれてると思うんですよね。 リズム隊とかを見てても、レコーディング前の個人練習とかで詰めてるのを見てると、やっぱり大变そうだなあとか思うし。やっぱ俺なんかよりもみんな、ずっと早くからレコーディングがはじまるわけで、準備にも早く取りかからないといけないわけで。みんながスタジオでオケ作ったりしてるのを見てると、いかにも大变そうだし、しかもリーダーがスパルタだから、ヒーヒー言ってる部分もあるし（笑）。ま、俺も俺で作詞とかがあとから大变だったりはするんだけど、そういう意味では、ある種みんな同程度にしんどいというか、帳尻が合ってるというか。そういうところも確実にあるんで。

[intuitive-revelations]

Headcanon: one of the reasons why Gallifreyan is a) so complex, and b) so inconsistent, is because it's less one language and more a complex mishmash of thousands of languages and dialects.

Think about how one of the reasons English can be complex to learn is because of the mix of Germanic and romance language roots, and now take it up to 11.

While one might expect Gallifrey to be monolingual, given its age and class structure, this probably isn't technically the case. After all, why limit your culture to one language when the average citizen is effectively panlingual (to the point that TARDIS translation circuits are actually dependent on their pilots' knowledge, rather than the other way round)?

Thus, if there once were distinct languages on Gallifrey, they probably have all been merged at this point into modern Gallifrey's super-Esperanto. Add in loan words from notable civilisations across all of spacetime (but likely primarily from Gallifreyan colonies and allies like Dronid, Minyos, Cartego etc.), and it quickly becomes quite unwieldy.

It's also likely that there's a lot of overlap between these sub-languages, which can make distinguishing meaning hard to an outsider. Gallifreyans likely get around this courtesy of their telepathic connections.

TBH, given Time Lord sensibilities, it's likely that every single word variation has its own delicate meanings, derived not just from their societal uses but also from the etymology and history of each one. Canonically (though I don't have a source) we know that there are 30 different words meaning "culture shock", for example, which likely have very minor distinctions in meaning. We also know, unsurprisingly, that there's at least 208 tenses to help in describing time travel.

As an example - imagine being a Sunari ambassador at an embassy gathering and accidentally offending every Time Lord in the room because you accidentally used a definite article derived from the memeovored Old High Tersuran colony dialect, now considered low-brow by association with modern Tersuran, when you intended to use a nearly identical form of the word originating from the Founding Conflict, a triumphant post-Rassilonian intervention, distinguished by a near-imperceptible glottal stop.

It's likely that some of these Gallifreyan sub-languages/dialects may still be spoken with increased frequency under certain conditions, such as in one's own House or when visiting other city complexes. We know, for example, that Arcadia seems to be associated with a "Northern English" accent (which Nine picked up subconsciously post-regeneration, with the Fall of Arcadia being one of the last things the War Doctor remembered before DOTD's multi-Doctor event - hence "lots of planets have a north") when translated, which may indicate some dialect differences in the original language. I suspect there is a societal expectation for Gallifreyans to code-switch depending on the situation, with Citadel business generally expecting the Gallifreyan equivalent of RP, though it's relatively common for Time Lords less concerned with respectability and politicking to not comply.

One nice benefit of all this complexity, and the reason I made this post, is that there's a good argument to be made that every fan attempt to construct a Gallifreyan language can be 'canon', contradictions and all.

Greencook Gallifreyan? A formal evolution of Pythian prophecy scripture into the post-Intuitive Revelation era (based on its similarities with the Visionary's scrawling in The End of Time).

Sherman Gallifreyan? A modern katakana-like phonetic alphabet for the rapid-onslaught of new loan words following President Romana's open academy policies. Recently adopted by the Fifteenth Doctor for writing human proverbs.

Teegarden Gallifreyan? An archaic but recognisable near-Capitolian dialect from the Prydonian mountains, once spoken by Oldblood houses like Lungbarrow and Blyledge.

Or, in a nutshell, the state of Gallifreyan conlangs (and maybe in-universe Gallifreyan dialects):

I guess the dream project would be to accept the complexity and create some sort of grand modular "meta-Gallifreyan" conlang, merging as many fan interpretations as possible with their own distinctions and overlaps, that can continue to be updated as new ideas come up and new stories are released...

[the-lying-heavens]

"Pick One Moment"

[Spencer Reid x fem!reader]

Masterlist

Summary: A rough case in Dayton, Ohio brings unexpected emotions to the surface for you, forcing you to confront feelings you'd been hiding for years—feelings for Spencer Reid.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, moment of awkwardness

Word Count: 2.0k words

A/N: just based on the lyric 'And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like I love you...I love you' from the song Something Stupid by Frank Sinatra because it's been stuck in my head. I've been planning to write Spence for a while but I've been intimidated.

Staying professional in Dayton, Ohio proved to be a challenge.

It had been a rough case, but what case wasn't, right? Just have to wrap this one up and you can go back to your house and dog.

Okay, fine, this wasn't like most cases at all, not to you anyway. This one had hit particularly close to home. And you didn't like that one bit.

This made you more short-tempered than usual, even snapping at a witness. After a lengthy lecture from Hotch, I mean from the look on his face you would think you had insulted him, he had 'benched' you by having you go through old files that might be related to the UnSub.

Hey, at least you got to do it with Spencer.

After working with him for so many years, you grew quite fond of him. Too fond maybe.

You stared at him going through files with a speed that should not have been human. 20,000 words at a minute, and you thought you were a fast reader.

"Got anything yet, Boy Genius?" you asked, flipping the page of your own file.

He looked up at you. God those eyes...

"No. This one isn't even related to it." he dropped the file on the table.

"Didn't you read the entire thing?"

"Yes," he replied, "It was interesting."

"You find everything interesting."

"Not true," he protested.

You rubbed your eyes, sighing. "Sure, Spence."

He tilted his head at you, a look of concern on his face. Adorable.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

You considered lying, you had been doing that the entire time you had arrived in Dayton after all, but decided against it. "Not really."

"Is it about your family? I thought this case might bring up some bad memories."

You couldn't help but smile at how quickly he had gotten it. "Yeah, something like that."

"Can I help?"

"Can you make memories go poof?"

He actually seemed to ponder it. "No. I'm not sure why you would want to."

"You never wish that you could just forget the bad stuff?" You knew what he had been through, you had seen quite a bit of it.

His brows furrowed. "I don't like the idea of forgetting anything. I mean, Mom forgets enough so I remember for her too."

You realized your mistake and winced. "Spence... God, sorry."

"It's okay," he reassured you. "You're remembering a dark time in your life, it can be overwhelming. Also explains you snapping at the witness, with your nerves on edge."

"Yeah?" You grinned. "It was going to be Morgan but the asshole left before I could. So collateral damage."

He laughed. "He's outside if you want to insult him now. I don't want to be collateral damage too."

"You? Never."

"Never?"

"Never," you repeated.

Oh, how you loved his lopsided grins. "Thank you."

"Always." If you could pick one moment to live in forever, it probably would've been that one.

Minus JJ coming through the door right then. "We got something."

You wanted to throw a file at her. Instead, you get up with a heavy sigh. The sooner you get this done the better, you had to remember that.

~~~

The BAU was heading back to Washington tomorrow, so you could leave this far far behind. Finally. This case taking up two weeks of your life was enough.

You sat at a cafe next to the hotel where you were staying. It was a cozy little place with a mostly brown interior and warm lighting. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries filled the air.

You sipped your drink, feeling the cup's warmth in your hands. You had been coming here for the past few days and you had to admit, you would miss this place.

Just then, the door opened, and in walked someone you recognized, glancing around the room before spotting you. With a smile, Spencer made his way over, pulling out a chair across from you.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked.

You smiled back, gesturing to the seat. "Not at all."

He sat down and looked around. "So this is where you disappear to?"

You hummed in confirmation. "it's a nice place to think."

He stared at you for a while before nodding thoughtfully.

"What?" you sipped your coffee.

"Just... Are you feeling better?"

You shrugged. "Yeah, UnSubs behind bars. What more could I want?"

"Closure," he replied quietly.

You pressed your lips together tightly. "It's fine Spence. I'm alright with it."

"I don't think you are."

"Spencer," you said, a hint of warning in your voice, "You want to help, I get it. But not with this. Okay?"

It was an unspoken thing, the way Spencer always seemed to know when you needed space and when you needed someone to push just a little. He respected your boundaries, but there were moments—like this one—when his concern slipped through the cracks.

He sat across from you in that quiet cafe, watching you. You couldn’t tell if he was waiting for you to speak or if he was just giving you the time to process, as he always did.

It had been a rough case, yes, but that wasn’t why you were still here, staring into your coffee like it held all the answers.

Your eyes flickered up to meet his. He was still staring at you, quietly, as if he could see past your walls.

"Spence," you said, your voice quieter than you intended, "I’m fine. Really."

He didn’t respond immediately. His hand rested on the edge of the table, and you could see him fiddling with his fingers. That subtle nervousness he only ever seemed to show when he wasn’t sure what to say, but he knew he needed to say something.

"I don't believe you," he murmured, his voice soft but insistent. “I’ve seen you too many times to believe that everything’s okay, especially when it’s not. You’ve been holding it in, and I know that—"

"Spencer—" you started, but you were too late. He was already talking over you, his voice getting faster.

"Please. I just want to make sure you're alright, okay?" He sighed, his eyes briefly darting away before looking back at you. “I just... I care about you."

Everything felt very... loud. Too loud.

He looked at you expectantly, almost uncertain. Maybe, just maybe, he was waiting for you to make the first move.

You cleared your throat. God, you really hated moments like this, when everything inside you seemed to tremble at the prospect of just being honest.

His hand shifted on the table, and before you could stop it, you had reached out to touch his fingers. It was the smallest of gestures—barely noticeable—but it was enough.

For a long moment, you simply looked at each other, the conversation hanging in the air. There was so much unspoken between you, so much left unsaid. Maybe that was the problem.

Before you could stop yourself, the words spilled out of you, quicker than you could catch them. "I love you."

Spencer's face went completely still, his eyes wide as he processed your confession.

You had not meant to say that. You didn’t. It was an accident. You weren’t ready. You weren’t ready to put that kind of pressure on this, on him, on whatever this was.

But the words had slipped out anyway. You stared at him, feeling the heat rise in your face, hoping the ground would swallow you up.

"Sorry-God, I'm sorry," you quickly got up and rushed out of the cafe.

He just sits there. Frozen.

If you could pick one moment to rewind, it would be this one.

Oh, you fucked up big time.

~~~

You had never been more ready to get home, but unfortunately, there was an hour and thirty minutes on the private plane. With him.

Usually, you would spend an entire flight, after a case well done, talking to Spence. But after yesterday? But not this time. Maybe not ever.

You could feel Spencer’s presence beside you, but he was quiet. So quiet. Not the usual playful banter, no sudden bursts of random trivia or observations. It was almost like he was giving you space... or maybe he was just too uncomfortable to say anything.

Your eyes flickered to him once, twice, each time hoping for some indication of what he was thinking. He was staring out the window, a far-off look in his eyes, his fingers curled loosely around a book in his lap. For a moment, you almost felt the pull to apologize again, but the last thing you wanted to do was make him feel obligated to comfort you. You had put your foot in it already. Now, it was time to ride this out and pray it didn't become permanently awkward.

But Spencer, as always, was unpredictable.

"You don’t have to apologize," he said, his voice quiet, but it still carried across the cabin, cutting through the engine's hum.

You stiffened, eyes fixed on your lap. Had you been that obvious?

"I wasn’t going to," you said, a little too defensively.

He didn’t respond right away. You could feel him looking at you, the weight of his gaze making you want to curl into yourself.

“You know I care about you, right?” He said it so gently, like he wasn’t sure how you were going to take it.

You felt your chest tighten. Care about you. Those words. He was still speaking, still looking at you, but it was hard to focus on his words because everything was spinning around that one sentence.

"I do," you replied. You had to stop yourself from saying more—there was more you wanted to say, needed to say—but you couldn’t. Not yet. Not until you figured out where your head was at, where you both were at.

Spencer shifted in his seat. He didn’t look hurt, but there was something in the way he held himself. Maybe he was just holding back, afraid to push too hard, afraid of what that push might break.

You finally took a breath and turned to face him. He was still watching you, his expression a mix of concern and... something else. It was the something else that had you questioning everything.

"You don’t have to say anything," you added quickly, "I just...said something stupid. I didn’t mean to make things weird."

Spencer didn’t break his gaze, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Not his usual goofy grin, but something softer. More real. Something... intimate.

"It’s not weird," he said, his voice still quiet, "You’re not the only one who gets nervous around here, you know."

You blinked at him, genuinely confused. "What do you mean?"

His smile flickered, a small laugh escaping him before he adjusted his posture and leaned back in his seat. He seemed less tense, more at ease, "I’m just saying... I’ve had my own share of... feelings. I just didn’t know how to... deal with them."

Your breath caught in your throat. Spencer had feelings? For you?

The question hovered between you like an unspoken truth, but it seemed too risky to ask outright. Instead, you glanced down at your hands, the heat rising in your face.

And then, finally, you said something else, the words coming out quieter than you intended: "Do you think... we can just... forget it happened?"

You almost expected him to shrug it off, to offer a playful remark about how awkward it was or how maybe you'd both laugh about it someday. But he didn’t do that.

"No," he said softly. "I think maybe... we should talk about it. When we’re ready."

Your heart fluttered. Was this... was this him telling you he was ready? That maybe he wanted to figure it out too? Or was this Spencer, as usual, just giving you a window to process everything at your own pace?

You weren’t sure. You weren’t sure of anything. But you couldn’t deny the weight of his words, the connection that had always been there and that seemed to grow stronger the more time you spent together.

"I’m not great at talking about feelings," you admitted, looking over at him sheepishly.

Spencer chuckled softly, a breath of amusement. "Yeah, I’ve noticed."

You gave him a sidelong glance, your lips twitching into a reluctant grin. “Smartass.”

"Hey, you started it," he teased, finally breaking the tension just a little. "And I’ll finish it. But not right now. I think... we both need time to think."

You nodded slowly. He was right. You both needed time. The last thing either of you needed was to make rash decisions while emotions were still running high.

"You’re not mad?" You asked it before you could stop yourself, the doubt creeping in.

"Mad? Why would I be mad?" Spencer’s face was open and sincere.

"I don’t know. I just..." You didn’t finish your sentence. What was there to say? How could you explain the mess of emotions you were still trying to sort out?

He reached out across the seat, almost as if he was testing the waters, and placed a hand gently on yours. The touch was brief, but it sent a spark of warmth through you.

"I’m not mad," he said again, more firmly this time. "Not for that."

You were both quiet for the rest of the flight, but the silence between you felt different—more like an understanding, like a promise that when the time was right, you’d figure it out together.

It wasn't the one moment you would pick to stay in forever, but it was a moment you didn't mind being in for the rest of the flight.

[koolades-world]

this piece is based off this post, which you can find here. I had heard it as an audio at first actually and fell in love with it. it's kind of essential for this read. it's basically talking about how before their loved one guessed their favorite color was yellow, they didn't have one. after that, yellow was special! sooo cute and i though luci fit in perfectly as the speaker!!! if you were tuned yesterday for my solomon birthmarks fic, this is two out of my four ideas! i had one more in my drafts that i decided to throw in for fun

so so excited to write this. so fluffy!!!

the color of happiness

"Don't forget about your coffee, Mc." Lucifer nudged the cup towards you, acting as a gentle reminder of it's existance.

"Right, right. Just let me finish this thought." You were laser focused on the paper you were in the middle of planning. You were desperate to get all the thoughts out before you inevitable got distracted and forgot everything.

"I don't mean to dissuade you from your schoolwork, but it's getting cold." He chuckled at your half assed attempt to wave him off.

"You can just reheat it with magic." You stuck out your tongue ever so slightly as you scribbled.

"And what if I can't?" Lucifer was practically enchanted with your little mannerisms.

"You can and would. I know you. You'd find a way to make it happen for me." Despite how smug you sounded, he knew you were right. He'd jump through however many hoops as he had to for you.

There was no coming back from your words, so he went back to his own work. By the time he'd restarted, you'd stopped for a break, and were ready to bug him.

"On that note, I feel like I know so much about you, yet so little at the same time." You held the mug in one hand, the other underneath your chin as you gazed up at him.

"What prompted this?" Lucifer set down his pen despite just having gotten back to work. He'd felt like the two of you knew each other quite well. You'd been through thick and thin together, even defied death at each others side.

"Let's play twenty-one questions!" You ignored his question. Perhaps you just wanted an excuse to hear his voice.

"Alright. I can't say I've played before, but I know of it." He found himself smiling again, as he often did around you.

"It's easy! We just ask each other questions to get to know each other better."

"Which one of your brothers is your favorite?" You asked. He hadn't been expecting such a hard hitter of a question at first

"Must I answer?" He joked.

"Come on! Alright, then which do you hate the least?" You suppressed laughter.

"Do not shout this from the rooftops, but, Mammon." He already knew how'd you'd react, but he still found himself amused when you inevitably did.

"I knew it!" You celebrated, throwing your arms in the air. "Alright, your turn."

He absentmindedly messed with his gloves. "What is your favorite part of human world?" Lucifer had thought hard about that question. You seemed too enthusiastic about the entire thing, and he couldn't help but cave.

"That's an easy one! The sunrise. I would almost never wake up in time for it, but it's so beautiful." Your eyes sparkled. He made a mental note to plan a surprise trip to the human world for you. "I've actually been dying to know the answer to this next question for a while now."

"Oh? Ask away then." Lucifer was curious. There was a lot a human could want to ask the Lucifer Morningstar. You already knew his story, but there was a lot to be asked about what the Celestial Realm was like, or what having his power was like. But instead you asked him,

"What's your favorite color?"

The question hit him like a shot to the heart. He should've known you weren't interested in anything but him, for who he was. For once, he didn't know the answer a question as simple as that. He'd never really given it though. Maybe it was red? It was the color of his eyes, and the color of Diavolo. Maybe it was blue? That was the color of his sin. Maybe it was black? Everything he bought seemed to be in that color. Or, just maybe, it was that he didn't have one.

He floundered, his thoughts much more chaotic than what he let on. "Oh, wait! Let me guess!" He nodded, despite not knowing how he'd respond. You pursed your lips, deep in thought, when you burst out with what you thought was the answer.

"Yellow! It's yellow!" You placed a hand on his arm, eagerly awaiting his answer. You looked so full of joy, that somehow, made the answer seem correct to him.

"You're right." Lucifer nodded his head in confirmation.

"Knew it!" You threw your arms around him, pulling him into a side hug. After the inital shock, he hugged you back. "Yellow was already the best color, but now it's even better since it's your favorite too." The rest of your game, and break flew by.

But he couldn't stop thinking about what had happened. How could he had been so blind to a color he saw everyday? After that, the color held a special meaning to him. Not only was it the color of his favorite brother, and the color of your favorite thing about the human world, it was also the color of you to him.

Yellow was never the same after that.

The runny yellow yolk of the sunny side up eggs tasted that little bit better. He wasn't upset when he saw a yellow ball of yarn roll out from Satan's room. The yellow umbrella you carried around always caught his eyes, and so did yellow devildom equivalent of roses he passed every day on his way to RAD in a way they hadn't before. He promptly bought them and presented them to you when you arrived after him. The smile you gave him and the way you buried your face in the flowers meant the world to him.

Yellow suited you.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Building & Revealing Characters

You’ve assembled a great deal of information about your characters: You can see them, you know what they’re thinking, and you know what they want.

But conveying this information to your reader is its own unique challenge.

Character-Building

Just as you can’t rely on mere exposition to explain what happened before your story, you can’t preface your story with an interview with your character.

Character is something you build throughout the course of your story.

Recall that major characters, like your protagonist, are ones that will change during the course of the story; who they are in the beginning is not who they’ll be in the end.

Revealing your Characters

That said, you’ll want to give the reader an impression of who the character is at the outset of the story.

Example: Fitzgerald uses the first-person narrator, Nick Carraway, to gradually reveal information about Gatsby; the reader learns more information about Gatsby as Nick learns about him.

You might use minor characters to reveal information about your character if you’re writing from a point-of-view that is not the protagonist.

Likeable

The protagonist must also be likeable (at least to an extent).

If your reader cannot identify with your character, cannot picture themselves in the character’s shoes, then they may not want to read on.

While fiction is plot-driven, the reader might not care about your plot unless they care about your protagonist.

Make the reader root for your character; we want them to succeed (most of the time) e.g., Gatsby.

Character Flaws

This doesn’t mean that your character should be perfect—quite the opposite, actually. We don’t want to read about perfect people; if a character is the most beautiful and talented person in the world, and if they have everything they want, there’s no story there.

Example: Every character in William Shakespeare’s plays has a “fatal flaw”: a personality flaw that will cause the character to fail, that Achilles’ heel that the antagonist will exploit.

When you are building your own characters, think about what sort of flaws they have. The flaw should make sense for the character — it should be related to their background/beliefs.

You can’t assign flaws arbitrarily—the flaw should arise from the circumstances of your character’s life, where they are, who they know, how they were raised and how they’ve been treated.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Plot ⚜ Character ⚜ Worldbuilding

[boundbyeclipse]

hiii can you write smut number 5 with current James????

black velvet

genre : smut

word count : 1227

tags : current!james, female!reader, age difference (not specified how much), reader is a tattoo artist, a little rough james, semi-public sex (i think?), that’s about it

from the prompt list : 5. “don’t cover your mouth. i wanna hear you”

a/n : sooo i saw a photo of James getting a tattoo done and i thought hey, that’s a perfect idea for one of my requests! it really stuck to me and i had to write it. i really hope you enjoy this one x

‘Poison’ by Alice Cooper played in the background after you returned from your dinner break at work. You hummed along to the lyrics while lightly bopping your head to the beat. You absolutely loved rock and metal, so the playlist used at work always consisted of bands who did exactly those genres. It always gave you motivation and boosts for some energy, no matter if you were sad, angry or irritated.

While preparing for your next client, the sound of the entrance door opening and closing reached your ears. Technically, it was just a bit too early to show up, but hey, this one’s a regular and you didn’t mind at all.

“Hey there” you greeted him while putting some black gloves on your hands.

“Hey. Mind me showing up before I should?”

You gave him a warm smile, shaking your head left to right.

“Nope. You can come take a seat actually, I’ll go print out the tattoo and get more ink”

“Alright” James smiled back, hanging his jacket on the rack and making his way to the big, comfortable leather chair. He watched you walking around and you didn’t quite pay any attention to him, at least at first. Or, you just didn’t want to.

No matter how many times you’ve done tattoos on this man in the past few years, there has always been some sort of a tension between you both. It wasn’t anything like what you’ve had before with other men. They might have complimented you, made you smile, even blush, but none of them put you in such a vulnerable position with their presence alone. And there have been many times where his eyes would pierce right through you in the middle of getting his skin drawn on, creating the impression of him wanting to do some things to you. The lust was purely emitting from him the whole time. And you cannot forget about those moments when his fingertips would brush against your skin, making you shiver and think of scenarios in your head that were not so innocent. Sure, he was much older than you, but that didn’t stop either of you from craving each other every time.

Not too long after, you were already seated next to James, with his hand extended out as you were drawing lines on his skin.

My, oh my, did those large hands of his drove you insane.

“You got any more people coming after me?” he suddenly asked, his blue eyes hinting at something.

“Nope, you are the last one today. Puts my mind at ease knowing my last client is a regular. No need to overthink”

One side of his mouth curved up into a small smirk.

“Are you sure your mind is at ease? Because I can feel you’re all tensed up”

You swallowed and bit your lower lip hard after he said that. Trying to hide your growing frustration, you giggled.

“Maybe I am, I’ve been here since seven in the morning, you know”

He cocked an eyebrow up, not quite believing what you were saying. James could clearly see how you bit your lip, adjusted in your seat and giggled due to getting thrown back by his comment.

“It’s kind of easy to tell that it’s not because of the work. You don’t need to hide it”

Your breath hitched in your throat, and your body froze for a moment before you looked up at him and asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I know you secretly think about all the possible ways I could use my hands on you,” you could not believe what he just said, but it was totally true, “it’s written all over your face. Even your body language gives it away with how you shake, squirm in your seat, how you breathe heavier when I’m around. I know you think of me”

“James, don’t-“

“Just finish the tattoo first, then you can explain yourself”

Not even ten minutes later, you had your body pinned against the door of your break room, with no way to escape the tall man who hovered over you. His hands roamed your body while he kissed your neck, sucking on the sensitive spots to make you even weaker. The way he held you by your hip against the door made you so vulnerable and so turned on, that you could not help but moan into the heated kiss.

With one swift move, James opened the door behind you and the both of you walked backwards, still all over each other until the back of your calves hit the lounge couch that was in the room. James helped you with taking your shirt off, leaving you in a black lace bra. You sat down and watched James from below, eyes full of desperation and need, looking right into his own. He removed his shirt and tossed it away, unbuckling his jeans and unzipping them, then hovering above you as he laid you down slowly, but with rough kisses and a tight grip on your waist.

Your hand reached into his jeans and you cupped him through the fabric of his underwear, giving it a couple squeezes as James groaned in response. He was big, thick and hard, and you could feel yourself getting so wet that it started to hurt. You really needed him.

With no clothes left on your bodies, he was now inside you, moving his hips as he watched your face, loving the way your eyes rolled back with each thrust. The way your back arched, your naked bodies touching against each other, it put you in such a trance. Every second of it - you just loved.

With your moans becoming louder, you felt a little embarrassed, and your hand found its way to your mouth to silence yourself. But James wasn’t going to let you hide.

“Don’t cover your mouth. I wanna hear you”

Carefully, he took your hand and now had both of your hands pinned above your head. Your moans filled the room as you wrapped your legs around his waist, wanting to feel every single inch of his length in you. Almost to the point where you could barely take it.

“I can’t- I can’t take it”

“Yes, you can. Just hang on for a little bit more for me, okay?”

You gave him a nod in response, eyes watery and lips parted as you breathed heavily, your high hitting you right then and there. It happened so quickly, that you could not even tell James that you were close.

Another moan slipped out of his mouth as you coated him in your juices, your walls pulsing whilst he was still inside you, able to feel everything.

“Almost there” he told you as he gave you his final thrusts before pulling out and cumming on your stomach. Both of you were panting, with small beads of sweat on your foreheads and hair all messed up. But as soon as you got your breathing back to normal, it was time to clean up and go home. Though, James just wasn’t quite keen on leaving you so soon.

“I’ll give you a ride back home, so don’t worry about taking a bus in this weather” he gave you a warm smile as he put his jacket on and waited for you at the entrance door.

[oh-no-its-bird]

HELPPP IM CRYING ACTUALLY IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE THEM???? HONORED TBH????? I love these silly little guys SO much I'm losing my mind over here that u like them enough to write smthn so long ab it, omg don't look at me rn I'm crying

I never thought too much ab Haruka's voice before but tbh now what u described it that way that's just the Official Haruka Voice Take (tm) actually, that is how she sounds now

"I've got nothing better to do, I think she's funny and I want to reinforce her bad habits <3" is so fucking funny and so fucking accurate, this is exactly what is happening in the twins minds actually.

In my notes for their personalities in my notesapp, I just wrote "They're genuinley just the fucking WORST to deal with. Their "I'm going to cause problems on purpose" dials got cranked up to 10 and got stuck that way at birth" which I think sums it up nicely.

I've been writing silly small stuff for them lately to hoard jealously in my notesapp and I think Haru has a genuine mean streak while Hiro is a lot more bark than bite— but also Haru looks and talks a bit gentler while Hiro acts and sounds rougher, so they often give off the opposite impressions. Don't worry Hiro, your brother will do what you aren't strong enough to (crime)

There's all sorts of fun layers to it too, like, considering they're from a clan who tries to shelter it's children— but they're also from the infamously bloody warring states period, who had to bring up their children much quicker and rougher than modern. I think Hiro would have made a wonderful modern day shinobi while Haru is a good example of the inherent violence of the warring states, just buried under good cheer and playfulness. Mmmm phycology,,,

I love their little trio with Shiruka, they are besties and she's also their first real friend their age, while she's kind of but not quite an outcast in her own clan due to her parents poor standing. She's older sibling coded and so tired of their shit but also quietly, perpetually amused by it, which is probably part of why she sticks around. That, plus their clear undying loyalty towards anything and anyone considered "theirs"— a list she's made it on and does her best to reply in kind

They are holding hands and will continue to hold hands together till they inevitably die at ~19 for the good of the village, yippie !!!

At least they'll get to live on in the memory of Hiname,,

Just kidding she dies like 3 years later, whoops!

BUT YEAH THEM !!! I love them so much, I had way too much fun thinking ab just the ecosystem for young shinobi in early konoha.

I have so many more thoughts ab it all tbh, theres no doubt tons of things happening as so many different people and clans settle in to a new normal but I ofc have my focus

I think I accidentally created some sort of little mystery/conflict with my silly meme of Shiruka going "he wants to order break into my clan heirs house" while also stating that she and her family aren't currently in good standing with the Nara main family.

I wasn't thinking ab it too hard when I drew it but now I'm sat over here like "girl why are you helping Haru break into your clan heirs home when you're already most likley on their (or at least their parents) shit list?? Who is the clan heir and why does Haru want to break into their house?? What drama is this??"

I'll probably think harder about it later, I feel like there's potential there

I need to stop thinking so hard ab potential early konoha narrative things bc I refuse to be consumed by it and know I very much will give in to The Voices if I continue

I say that but I'm absoloutley going to continue to think ab them. Actually.

Ough,,, Wolves of the Woods my beloved,,, one day I'll write u,,, one day,,

That said I'm also enamored with Tetsuo as clan heir (someone get him out of there!!!) He's great at it but also really, really does not want the position.

I think when he was younger and Tobirama was visiting the clan, he point blank begged him to take the position— But Tobirama said no, he's a Senju through and through and he's proud to be second to his Anija. A week later, and Tetsuo officially got the title (and maybe cried about it but only just a little and only on the inside)

(Tetsuo is still nursing a tiny grudge over this, though it's lessened slightly since Sakumo's birth)

POV he's in an especially bitchy mood and Tobirama asks him something and he just kind of grumbles, "oh, I'm sorry, are you my clan heir?"

Queue ??????? from like half of those present

He's so cute tho I think he has my favorite design of all of them. He dresses the fanciest for sure— Haruka totally owns similar things (I think the half and half haori is super cute and I want it to be a clan staple) but only wears it on occasions where she needs to, while he's more traditional/conscious of himself and his position, so he dresses like that all the time. He's probably the guy they send to the capital whenever it's necessary and the clan heads presence isn't needed

Random early konoha oc fun fact no one asked for: I have a vague messy fic idea from months ago now that basically amounts to "the Hatake's die before Madara defects to the village, and Kabuto, in practicing Orochimaru's edo tensei in preparation for the final battle, revives them— then manages to lose them in transport before they wake up. Not knowing any better, they flock to Madara to help in his fight"

I love time travel I love drama I love horrible misunderstandings and family/clan drama !!!!!

Uhh take some notes from that:

ANYWAYS THANKS SO MUCH IM SO GLAD U LIKE THEM SORRY FOR MY WORD VOMIT I JUST GET SO EXCITED AB THEM I COULD EXPLODE WITH IT ACTUALLY

Silly, early Konoha lore and oc things drawn while thinking about this post

!!! early konoha my beloved !!! I have so many thoughts ab it, I want to write a fic that's just silly early Konoha things viewed from the perspective of the less important clan members and their everyday lives. I'm aware the audience for that is incredibly small but I have too much fun just thinking ab it to really care!

Ichigo remains the only naruto oc Ive ever actually written for (in one step three steps), tho Haruka has been mentioned in multiple fics of mine now just bc she fills the role of Tobirama + Hashirama's blood aunt that I needed to be filled in my "Kakashi interacts with Tobirama w the knowledge that they are directly related" fics, of which there are now multiple

but yeah, take some silly art and lore comics !! I had fun while making these and will now probably put all these ocs on a shelf where I will not touch them for some more months

[wisteria-lodge]

do you think lucius only realize he don't want to be a death eater after voldemort was defeated in the 1st war or even during it?

speaking of what are your thoughts/hc on why narcissa didn't take the dark mark despite her sister and her husband doing it? tbh i always wondered how she could've avoided it? i mean she was part of it right, she was in the meetings too

I always thought it made sense that Draco was a difficult pregnancy.

I say that because Lucius and Narcissa seem like the sort of couple who would have loved more children. Narcissa was close with her sisters before things fell apart, and Lucius was an only child... but he's so social I think that must have been lonely for him. I think he would have loved it if Draco had a younger brother or sister. And the only barrier they'd be dealing with there would be a medical one, so.

(also, I love whenever the the Malfoys and the Weasleys are foils, and the idea of Draco and Ron being born at pretty much the same time - but Ron is one of many, a little neglected, mom is a little disappointed he's not a girl etc. while DRACO is so wanted and so special. That's good stuff.)

I also think that if the Malfoys were dealing with fertility issues, Narcissa suffering, maybe even having a miscarriage - that would have made early-twenties Lucius grow up REAL fast. Because yeah, I do think that when Draco was born - about a year before Voldemort's downfall - Lucius' priorities shifted completely, and he started looking for a way out.

And I say that because Lucius rode the wave of the first war really well, coming out with his money and prestige so intact, which would have taken some planning. Lucius is also one of very few Death Eaters who actually got off using the 'imperius curse' defense. (I think the only other one is Avery.) I like the idea that he did actually plan that. Like - okay. You could have someone you trust (Narcissa, maybe Severus) put the imperius curse on you for a couple months, and that way when you're asked "Were you directed to follow Voldemort's orders under the imperius curse," you can say yes, even if you're under Veritaserum.

(Nott senior also seems to have also come out of the first war basically unscathed, but he also seems much more cautious than Lucius. I'll bet he was very good at making sure that there was never much actual evidence against him. Crabbe and Goyle senior also seem to be doing fine, and I tend to think it's because Lucius got them out (possibly because their wives were close with Narcissa? All three women would have been pregnant at the same time.) Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle are *quite* committed to keeping Draco Malfoy in one piece. I love Draco, but he does spend several books being a little shit with no ability to defend himself, so they do have their work cut out for them.

I also think a Narcissa who spent the first Voldemort war dealing with pregnancy-related health issues could explain why she doesn't have a Dark Mark, when honestly she really should. Her husband, sister, brother-in-law, underage cousin... they're all getting them. So why was Narcissa skipped (but still allowed to remain in good standing?) I think she she stayed out of the spotlight, using her delicate health as an excuse. And then the second war comes around and she... fades to the background again, makes herself useful, and hopes that the issue never comes up. I don't think she'd say no to a confundus, or even a memory charm if she were really put on the spot.

(but the real, Doylist reason Narcissa doesn't have a Dark Mark is because JKR has a very strong aversion to writing villainous mothers. See: the very odd framing of Merope Gaunt.)

[hawkinshorror94]

Can you write about a tav who's really shy and awkward and she tries to confess to astarion, karlach, Gale, and halsin (individually) but she freezes up and stutters out something stupid

This shouldn't have taken me as long as it did but here we are. Finished, Halsin's is a bit spicier than the rest because we all know how that he tells us that he is interested in the game

Gale

“It shouldn’t be this hard.” You thought to yourself as you sat outside your tent, a tome opened and long forgotten in your lap as your mind kept wandering to the wizard. He was giving you all the signs that he was interested, the weave, complementing your “musk”, literally saying that watching you fight aroused him. But yet here you were so terribly unsure of yourself as you sigh and toss the tome aside and decide to make your way over to his tent.

“Oh, what do I owe the pleasure?” Gale asked as you pull back his tent flap, he sits cross legged with a book in his lap. His position unknowingly mirrored yours before. 

“I came to talk.” You stutter out and you notice the slight upturn of his lips as you sit across from him. “How do you feel in me?” The second the words leave your mouth you kick yourself. “I mean about me, how do you feel about me?” A string of curses clutter  your brain as a blush floods your cheeks with crimson.

“Well, I haven’t quite found out what it feels like to be in you,” He smirks and takes your hands gently in his own larger ones “But as far as how I feel about you, I think you know. You’re kind, strong and ravishing. You give me life.” You breath out heavily through your nose as he says this glancing between his lips and your conjoined hands. 

“Can I kiss you?” You say quickly and he doesn’t answer, just pulls you into him smashing his lips against yours. Actions spoke louder than words anyway.

Karlach

“Soldier?” Karlach says as you walk up rubbing your hands against your trousers. Karlach had just gotten her second upgrade from Dammon and you really wanted to tell her how you felt, maybe even experiment with how hot she could get without burning up.

“Karlach, I’ve been thinking.” You start as she looks down at you with a grin.

“Oh dangerous.” She laughed quietly, why did she have to do that? Be so smooth and cool with her reactions while you were trembling under her gaze. Maybe that was part of being hell’s champion, being cool and collected when it mattered most. 

You froze under her gaze and she reached out a warm hand touching your elbow lightly to ground you, to thaw the words stuck on your tongue. 

“I really, really like you Karlach. And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same because your this super fucking hot barbarian.” You're a rambling dummy, you chide yourself internally and Karlach and laughs. Something warm and kind and it makes you feel a little better. 

“I really, really like you too, soldier.” She says in a giddy tone that warms your heart as she takes your hands in her own squeezing them (only a little too hard). She takes no time in showing you how well her new upgrade works either.

Halsin

“Say the words and I’m yours.” The words rang around in your skull like angry bees in a jar. Halsin had such a honeyed tongue that even those simple were enough to have you in absolute shambles. You scrub the skin with ferver with the sponge as you try to scrub Halsin’s voice from your head. You hear a rustling from the bushes, assuming it Scratch you go about your bathing. Scratch’s favorite activity was licking the water from their legs as they dried after a much needed bath. It was annoying to everyone but who was she to deny the dog the simple pleasures of life, even if that was soapy river water. 

“Just as nature intended.” A low hum and that honeyed voice made you drop the sponge and try to hide yourself and the blush that covered your face. “Don’t mind me, I just came down here to whittle.” Halsin chuckles sitting down on the sandy river bank pulling out a knife and a piece of wood.

“Halsin-” You stammer as you dip yourself into the dark water effectively hiding yourself from view. “Would you like to j-join me?” He chuckles as he looks down at the whittled duck in his hand before sitting it down. 

“I thought you’d never ask, my heart.”

Astarion

He is fang deep in her neck as a little soft moan escapes his throat. The sound you might make after you bite into something so sweet that you feel like you might have just experienced Elysium if only for a moment. One hand cradles your head and his fingers are scratching at your scalp and the over is at your hip and it all feels incredibly intimate except you're not even together.

It’s not that you don’t want that it’s the opposite, but you were too nervous to tell. His charismatic demeanor makes you shy away from a confession, but while he feeds he is different. Vulnerable and soft, at your mercy. 

“Astarion,” You nudge him gently. “I need to tell you s-something really important.” He hums against you knowing he is in fact listening. “I like you a lot and I’m sure you don’t feel the same.” You trail off not knowing what to say next because he has stopped drinking from your neck and he just hovers there for a moment. Then your field of vision is filled with him, blood dribbling down his chin. 

“And what would make you think that I don’t feel the same about you.” He murmurs his voice soft as he searches your face, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. 

“Because I-I’m just me and you’re you.” Wow, smooth one, you think to yourself. 

“Oh darling, you’re more than just you.” He purrs as his lips break into a wide grin dipping his lips down to yours. 

[fictionadventurer]

There's something about reading really great writing that's so relaxing. You can just sit back and let the words wash over you, knowing that you can trust the writer.

[bisclavret]

#once saw someone call gwaine ‘the straight one’ as if he hasn’t been ‘the gay one’ for a thousand years #having a thought. hang on #ppl have spent so long calling non-canon ships ‘subtext’ that they’re completely rewritten the meaning of the word subtext #so that when something is actual present cohesive subtext that immediately comes across as Weak Evidence#instead of a message that is simply… indirectly expressed #huh…

i don't particularly care what people write in their fics but i deeply agree with what you're saying and i think everyone would benefit from learning to separate the idea of queerbaiting (writing a gay-coded dynamic that seems like it's gonna lead somewhere so gay people will watch your show only to never let it lead anywhere), homophobic jokes/tropes at the expense of gay-coded characters, subtext and heavy gay-coding that can be recontextualized/dismissed/applied to other motives such as duty and magic, and the sort of writing that is almost entirely text but is subtle enough to get past censorship.

bbc merlin is unique in that it contains all of this and more and it applies to almost every character, but when it comes to gwaine you can eliminate queerbaiting pretty quickly as i don't think anyone deluded themselves that it would happen while watching the show the way merthur fans did (and i don't blame them! queerbaiting used to be an artform or whatever that one post said), and you can also eliminate any other motives gwaine could've had for loving and sticking by merlin (duty or magic) since he never outright found out about 99% of the magic plot and openly told merlin he isn't doing anything out of a sense of duty, just for his company and affection.

that leaves us with the gay/homophobic jokes, which i do think have been done at both gwaine and merlin's expense, gay-coding, which applies to almost the entire cast (but is the least metaphorical and most explicit in gwaine's case since, again, with him there's no duty or magic to serve as a metaphor or excuse), and the sort of writing that is not quite subtext but rather the sort of subtle, layered text that people writing about homosexual attraction have been using to get past censors since censors have existed.

the way gwaine and his affection for merlin are written are less reminiscent of "baiting" or "excusable" subtext and more reminiscent of dynamics like will and hannibal or marceline and bubblegum (before the networks relented) or the guys from the untamed (from what i understand) in that there is no other viable explanation for how the characters behave around one another, but they can't quite act on it or the episode just won't be allowed to air. and so instead the writers give them actions and dialogue that function as declarations of desire and love that may be a bit more roundabout than an outright "i love you" or physical touch, but still symbolize exactly those things on every single other narrative level. and this is how gwaine has been written from the moment he met merlin 14 years ago.

tl;dr it's not that serious but let's all be so fr for five seconds. gwaine, as the character that exists on the show we all watched, is not straight or a brother or mentor figure to merlin. he canonically adores merlin for pretty well spelled-out reasons that boil down to him being in love and unable to act on it due to the nature of the show/tv network. you can change that in your fic if you'd like, but it would be like changing something crucial about another character, such as taking away arthur's daddy issues or not giving lancelot a martyr complex. being bisexual and in love with the protagonist is a core part of who gwaine is, and if you take that away you have changed his character pretty drastically and you better have a good reason for keeping him in the story.

Since we’re all in agreement now that Gwaine is (sub)textually in L word (lesbians) with Merlin, can we stop no-homo-ing them in every fic 😭 if I have to see “Gwaine did all that because Merlin is like a brother to him” one more time I’m gonna create a zombifying parasite that takes humans as hosts and then also they ship merwaine because of the parasite and there is peace on earth. worm

[chr0n1c-ag0ny]

Kunidazai reunion sparking them finally, actually, truly getting together (cause they're idiots who have essentially been and old married couple for years and were the last to notice)? I think yes.

kunikida offering his apartment to Dazai, as his partners was in no shape to be lived in, after all the time that had passed with no upkeep and the time it spent in police custody, being milled through for any potential evidence. there was no way he could let him go back to it, not now, not tonight. Kunikida needs him close tonight.

Dazai takes him up on his offer. he doesn't want to be alone. he won't admit it, but he can't be alone, he doesn't know what it would do to him, what he would do to himself if he was left unattended. so he gratefully, while making jabs and cracking jokes at his partner, follows him home.

their night proceeds as normal, as it had for years of Dazai crashing with him. Kunikida cooks while Dazai sits up on his counter, rambling on and on about anything he can think of. Kunikida never realized how much he missed Dazai's voice until the relief of not cooking in silence hit him.

when they eat Dazai drags his partner to sit on the couch, even though Kunikida hates eating on the couch, knowing he would make an exception for him, just for tonight. they sit too close to just be friends, coworkers, partners even. their arms touch, their knees lean into one another.

when Dazai's finished with his dinner he lays a head in Kunikida's lap, turning on the TV, flipping through all of his partners recorded media until he finds the show they had been watch together, every episode that aired since he was arrested is recorded and unwatched. with blurry eyes he hits play. Kunikida's hand is in his hair and it doesn't leave.

they don't talk, they don't have to, they've talked enough. for now they just want to sit and feel each other's touch and hear each other's breathing. it's all they need.

its nearly 3 in the morning when Dazai finally starts to doze, he'd curled up into a ball, halfway in Kunikida's lap at that point, holding onto one of his partner's hands. Kunikida knows he should get them both to bed, he should offer Dazai the room and take the couch, that he should have the man some space after all he'd been through. but he aches at the thought of leaving his side, at being separated again.

but he doesn't even have to say anything, should have known he never had to, Dazai's always been sharp as a tack, his intuition, almost terrifyingly, even sharper.

His partner turned lazily in his arms, looking up at him with tired but knowing eyes. let's go to bed, they say. you don't have to go, you can stay, they assure. please don't go, they beg.

Kunikida breathes a long, heavy, sigh of relief.

"ok," he answers, before finally getting up after hours laid up on the couch, watching as Dazai continues to doze.

his heart aches with feverish heat. he'd missed him so much he had begun to go mad, had gone mad really, and now his partner was back, he was back and alive and mostly well, and now he was so relieved it ached in its own right.

he went about making up his bed for two, for Dazai, knowing he needed enough pillows and blankets for half a dozen people, but kept stopping to look over the back of the couch to make sure he was still there, still with him, that he hadn't been taken away again. by the time he's done he's probably crossed his apartment two to three dozen times, from his room to the couch again and again, before he's finally decided the room was good enough, there were enough blankets for Dazai to cover himself with and pillows to hide in.

when he goes to Dazai this time around, he kneels in front of him, carding a hand through his hair, tracing a thumb over his brow, to his nose, and then his cheek. his partner's eyes flutter open, a smile graces his lips.

"come on," he whispers, worried too loud a voice would shatter the delicate air of safety and comfort around them, "time for bed."

Dazai hums, getting up with a stretch and a yawn, much like a cat, before gingerly hopping off the couch and into Kunikida's arms, a false smile and air of cheekiness to him, hiding the ache Kunikida knew all too well resided in his partner's heart as much as it did his own, if not more. he holds him for a moment, savoring the feeling of him in his arms, before taking his hand and leading him to their room.

Dazai knows the drill. he goes to the other man's dresser and picks out a pair of his own sweatpants, ones he kept here for nights like these, and as per usual, one of Kunikida's shirts, gliding across the room, out into the hall, and into the bathroom.

Kunikida crawls into bed, feeling like he's been hit by a bus by the days events, and ends up half asleep by the time he feels Dazai crawling into bed next to him.

he expects to see bandages peeking from the borrowed nightshirt, to watch Dazai shield himself from the world, from his partner's touch, with a swarm of blankets, for Dazai to lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling, waiting for him to fall asleep first.

but tonight's different, so different.

Dazai's skin is bare where the shirt doesn't cover, his scars on display, each and every one of them, the burns, the cuts, the bullet wounds, the ones Kunikida has never one been able to decipher the story of. they're all bared to him, with no visible hesitation on Dazai's end.

when his partner climbs into bed he neglects the pile of blankets laid out for him, the pillows too. instead he lifts the comforter that's draped over the entirety of the bed, Kunikida included, sliding beneath it like it's natural to him, like he'd done it every night for months, years even.

he looks at Kunikida for a moment, silently asking for permission, which Kunikida cannot give fast enough, and then Dazai's in his arms, his own wrapped around his neck, nothing between them but the clothes on their backs.

Dazai pulls away, just a bit, Kunikida almost cries out, almost pulls him back in, but knows better. he lets dazai go, but he never leaves. he's moved just far back enough so they could both look each other in the face.

"I missed you," he spoke softly, his hands shifting to hold the blonde's face.

"I missed you too,"

there's a moment of silence.

"I love you." the words are hesitant, skittish even, like he's unsure of how Kunikida would take it.

"I love you too," he replies without a second thought. he loves his partner, he loves him, more than he knows what to do with, so much it drives him mad and makes him ache.

Dazai nods. he's thinking, Kunikida can see it on his face, his mind is going a million miles a second. worry flashes on Dazai's face, and Kunikida panics, goes to pull away, goes to give Dazai space, even if his own skin burns at the thought of parting with Dazai's.

but Dazai doesn't let him, he clings to him, "Don't go, please don't go, please," he begs.

his voice is desperate, so Kunikida doesn't. he watches his partners face twist and turn, watches as fear spreads across his brow and tears gather in his eyes, and he doesn't know what to do because this has never happened.

but than Dazai leans in, slowly, tugging Kunikida closer so they can meet in the middle. Kunikida feels his partners lips on his. he kisses him back. he can't decide if that was a foolish decision or not. It's soft, softer than either of them knew they were capable of, it's gentle and earnest and good.

Dazai stops after a moment, lingers in Kunikida's space before looking him in the eye once more, he doesn't speak, they don't need to. Dazai looks at him, tears running down his face, but he's smiling, he's ok. his thumbs wipe away tears Kunikida hadn't realized he'd shed. they're ok.

"I love you," Dazai mutter's again, speaking again before the other man can answer "Kunikida?"

"yes, Dazai?"

"don't go."

"I won't."

"promise?"

"I promise." its a foolish thing to say, but Dazai needs to hear it, hell, he needs to hear it, "I'm not going anywhere, so long as you promise me the same."

he hesitates, his eyes avoid Kunikida's for a moment, before returning from their shared gaze, "I'll try, I promise, I'll really try this time"

Kunikida nods, slowly moving to kiss Dazai's forehead, the brunette leans into it.

"I know you will," he whispers into Dazai's skin, "and I'll always be here when it's too hard to manage on your own."

there's silence again, but it doesn't feel wrong or heavy, its soft and warm and it feels right.

"I love you," Kunikida finally returns.

there's more silence, Dazai just looks at him, just watches, fingers playing with Kunikida's hair and drifting over his face until something clicks into place in the other man's mind, something nobody but Dazai could ever understand.

he leans in once more to kiss his cheek before he settles against Kunikida's chest, letting out a pleased huff as he curls himself into a ball, "goodnight," he muttered, almost instantly going still with sleep.

"goodnight," Kunikida replied, knowing Dazai wasn't going to hear him, pressing his own goodnight kiss to the top of Dazai's head before burying his face in the other man's hair (Dazai doesn't smell like his shampoo anymore. it makes something in him cringe. he tries and fails to ignore it).

it takes Kunikida a while to fall asleep, he's too busy running the night over and over and over again in his mind. he holds Dazai close and lets his fingers trace over scars, feeling over his too-thin frame, feeling each bone beneath his skin. there's so many thoughts rushing through his mind, to many fears, worries, anxieties, what ifs. what if I hurt him? what if I break him? what if I ruin this?

his thoughts are only stopped when Dazai gently nudges his head into his jaw, hands pulling Kunikida's off of him, holding them gently in his own (he should have known sleep wouldn't come that easy to Dazai).

he takes a deep breath, steadying himself and his mind, his partner's hands squeeze his gently, good, they seem to say, and sleep finally starts to pull at him once more.

he lets it happen, let's his eyes close and his mind go blank, knowing Dazai is safe, he's safe in his arms, he won't be taken away again. he sleeps knowing Dazai loves him, that he kissed him, that tomorrow they'll wake up like this, and maybe, just fucking maybe they can finally have this one happy ending.

[avirael]

The Frozen Lake

It was the third day since he had stopped feeling like dying.

About a week ago he had woken up from his far too lifelike fever dream and a few days later the last spikes of the fever itself had been gone too just like the hallucinations it had brought in his sleep.

He still had been sick though and welcomed Rael telling him to stay in bed until he was perfectly healthy again all too eagerly.

While he still sneezed every now and then, it was at least tolerable now, still annoying but he didn’t feel incredibly uncomfortable anymore.

That day, just like the last and also the ones before that, he had awoken late. Against Rael’s order to stay in bed he had found the courage to get up and take a look out of the window. It was a sunny day, which in Coerthas still meant that it was bitterly cold though. But the sun was shining brightly and already high in the sky too which meant it had to be almost midday. He had slept way too long again, way to many hours for a surprisingly dreamless sleep. Or maybe it was exactly the lack of dreams that allowed him to finally rest, after all in the past there rarely had been good ones…

For a moment he considered to go downstairs and ask for a late breakfast if that wasn’t too insolent given the late hour but then a knock sounded from the door.

Quickly he hurried back to bed, just in case it was Rael, but the person who carefully peeked into the room a few seconds later wasn’t a viera.

“Ah, you are awake! That’s good!”, Haurchefant exclaimed happily and brought a small tray with hot soup and also something warm to drink. “It is so late already, you must be horribly hungry. Alphinaud checked in on you earlier but you were still fast asleep and he didn’t have the heart to wake you.”

A little uncertain on how to answer to that, A’viloh just nodded. Haurchefant grinned, put down a mug on the bedside table and handed A‘viloh a comfortingly warm bowl filled with some rather delicious smelling stew.

Instead of fetching the chair from the small desk by the window, Haurchefant sat down at the lower end of the bed balancing the tray with his own lunch on his knees. Rael once told him that ishgardian society had an absurd amount of strict and antiquated rules and so A’viloh couldn’t help but wonder, that although it seemed like a very appropriate distance to him, in Haurchefant’s hometown the fact alone that he dared to sit on someone else’s bed was probably scandalous.

“I hope you don’t mind me having lunch with you.”, the Elezen asked as he noticed A‘viloh staring.

Quickly the Miqo’te lowered his gaze to his bowl of soup. “Not at all.”, he muttered and tried a spoonful of the food just to change the topic. “Mhh, this is very good!”, he mumbled, still chewing, surprised by how good this really was compared to the bland food and bitter teas Rael had usually brought him these last few days. It must have been the Viera’s way of punishing him for running away.

Haurchefant laughed and then for a while they ate in silence.

“You look a lot healthier already.”, the Elezen stated after a while with an amiable smile on his face before taking a sip from his mug.

A‘viloh shrugged a little embarrassed, since it had been his own fault that he hadn’t been well in the first place. “Only because all of you took so good care of me.”

Haurchefant nodded. “You know, you had us all horribly worried right?”

“Sorry about that.”, he said and guitily looked into his mug.

Curiously Haurchefant eyed him for a moment. “Why did you do that anyway? Run out into the storm.”

A bit surprised A’viloh looked up. Had they all thought he had done this on purpose? “There wasn’t a storm when I left! What do I know about weather? I didn’t expect it to start snowing, let alone that much!”

That made the Elezen chuckle again but he still looked at him expecting an answer.

“Still… why did you leave?”

“I assumed Rael told you…”, A’viloh replied not sure what Haurchefant wanted to hear exactly. He nodded. “Rael did. But maybe I want to hear it from you…”

A’viloh sighed. His plan hadn’t been very smart and he felt a little uncomfortable having to explain his reasons to someone else, when in retrospect it didn’t make much sense even to his own ears.

“You know the… circumstances under which we fled Ul’dah… I couldn’t… um… the fact that we didn’t even know what happened to our friends… I wanted to find out, because it doesn’t seem fair to me that we escaped while all of them didn’t…”

“Mhh…”, Haurchefant nodded thoughtfully but let go off the topic for now. Instead he asked, „And how are you feeling today?”

Somehow that question confused A’viloh even more.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a simple question, isn’t it?”, he said still smiling politely.

Of course it was a simple question. Just the answer felt unreasonable complicated to him. To make things even more difficult people who asked such a question usually wanted to hear “I‘m fine, and you?” or “Very good, thank you.” for an answer and rarely the truth. They certainly didn’t want to hear “A few days ago I was convinced I was going to die and honestly it wasn’t that bad, so now I‘m still not sure wether I am happy to still be alive or not”.

“Alright… I guess.”, he mumbled instead. He had never been a good liar and could only hope that this fact wasn’t too obvious for the Elezen.

“You know what?”, Haurchefant proclaimed after watching him thoughtfully for a second. “Today is a wonderful day. We should go for a walk.”

“A walk?!”, A’viloh exclaimed wide-eyed, as if he had just asked something unreasonable of him.

“Why not?”

A’viloh couldn’t think of a good reason why not, other than that he was supposed to stay in bed, so he shrugged.

“Where’s Rael?”, he asked instead.

Haurchefant smirked. “Do you need Rael’s permission to go outside?”

“Of course not.”, the Miqo’te protested. “But Rael will be mad if I run off again, especially against their orders to stay in bed.”

“Rael and Alphinaud went to the observatory earlier.”, Haurchefant explained. “We’ll be back before they are, I promise.”

What was A’viloh supposed to say against that and also against the expectant look on the Elezen’s face. He took another glimpse towards the window and decided that it looked nice enough to go outside.

“Fine.”

“Good!”, Haurchefant exclaimed happily and collected their empty bowls and mugs. “There should be warm clothes for you in the wardrobe. If you need anything else just ask someone. I’ll wait for you by the northern gate.”

After Haurchefant had left, A’viloh remained sitting in his bed for a moment longer contemplating on the Elezen’s question. Yes, he felt better again. But better in what comparison? Better than a few days ago when he had felt and also been half-dead? Though he didn’t feel sick anymore now, there still was a weigh on his heart. From his plan that had failed so spectacularly and even more so from the dreams he wouldn’t have minded to keep on dreaming forever.

Vehemently he shook his head and decided not to think about that now or he would just crawl back under the blanket of his comfortably warm bed again. Instead he got up and took a look into the wardrobe. Almost none of these were his own clothes of course since all he possessed were the ones he had worn on his body that day they fled Ul’dah. Very unsuitable for this climate. But neither did he see the borrowed clothes he had worn that night when he had tried to run away. Everything in here looked even softer and warmer like someone had wanted to make sure he was feeling comfortable. To his surprise the things didn’t look that much too big for him either, unlike his last set of clothes. Besides a few Hyur most people here at Camp Dragonhead were grown up Elezen but these clothes looked like they belonged to neither. Maybe it were clothes for Elezen children, he wondered and also thought that in that case someone must have brought them here just for him.

Grateful for so much effort he picked a few pieces and got dressed. Lazily he ran his fingers through his hair to get rid of the worst knots but the look into the small mirror at the washbasin, where his tired face stared back at him reproachfully, just made him sigh. Once he was ready he took the warm coat out of the wardrobe too and went out to look for Haurchefant. Just as he had said, the Elezen was standing by the gate that led to the north-east, towards the ruins of the Steel Vigil.

From afar Haurchefant already recognised the Miqo’te, his bright red hair a singularity among all the people living here. Pleasantly smiling as always he waved at him and A’viloh couldn’t help but smile a little too and wave back as he hurriedly walked towards him.

“There you are! I see the clothes fit you nicely.”

A’viloh nodded.

“They do. Thank you very much for these.”

Haurchefant dismissively waved with one hand. “It’s the least I could do…”

But he had done a lot more than that, A’viloh thought. “I think there’s more I need to thank you for. Rael told me it was you who saved my life.”

“Mhhh…”, Haurchefant tilted his head as if he wasn’t sure if this statement was entirely the truth. “Rael is too humble. They played a bit of a role in that too. After all it was Rael who noticed you were gone. And it was also Rael who didn’t leave your bedside and tried their best to heal you.”

A’viloh remembered waking up and finding the usually quite touch-averse viera cuddled up to him with a look on their face so horribly sad like he had never seen on them before. Rael had pretended it was nothing but it had been a very unconvincing performance. Asked about it Alphinaud had only offered a few sentences about how worried Rael had looked and how they had used all kinds of spells he himself had never seen or heard of before, all of it to try and save him. It had made him feel even more guilty for his stupidity.

So maybe Haurchefant was right. But still it had been him who had risked going out into the storm to find him.

“Anyway. I still want to thank you! Honestly.”, he insisted. But how honestly was it really?

Sure, he was glad to still be alive. After all his plan hadn’t been to run out into a blizzard and freeze to death, although some of them seemed to think that was the case. But once he found himself in this situation he had to admit that he had welcomed his fate rather willingly. A fact that shocked even himself a little looking back at it now.

“You’re welcome. After all you wouldn’t be any help to your friends frozen to death out there.”, Haurchefant joked with a wry smile on his lips.

“I guess not...”, A’viloh muttered, the topic of his friends making his mood visibly sink again.

Of course the Elezen noticed and his smile turned into a playful grin. “But I acted a little selfish too, you know? I think Camp Dragonhead is a lot friendlier with your company and I would like to have you and your pretty smile around a little longer.”

For a moment A’viloh’s eyes shot up to look at the others face before he quickly pretended that something somewhere a little bit to his left was a lot more interesting. Sometimes Haurchefant randomly said things, A’viloh hadn’t had the slightest idea how to react to. Not because he was that oblivious but simply because it puzzled him. Nonetheless the air suddenly didn’t feel that cold anymore on his face.

Haurchefant was always very kind to him. Well, he mostly was kind to everybody but sometimes he seemed to admire him especially. Him of all people, although there was nothing special about him. Haurchefant sometimes spoke of him like he was one of the greatest heroes of all time and it felt so ridiculous to him. He was just silly, cowardly A‘viloh! What had he ever achieved in his miserable life to justify such admiration? The people called him a Warrior of Light but wasn’t that some grand overstatement? Some days he thought all of this had been a horrible mistake. A great misunderstanding! Then he wondered how he had ever gotten entangled in this madness in the first place and also if he ever would get out of it again. But what else should he do with his life anyway...

While A’viloh’s brain still screeched in desperate search for a proper response, Haurchefant seemed to realise he had flustered him and glossed it over by gesturing to the gate.

“How about we walk a few yalms? There’s something you need to see!”

Still too dumbstruck to speak or to even wonder what the Elezen was talking about, A’viloh nodded and then proceeded to follow him out into the snowy landscape.

After a few minutes Haurchefant paused and took a deep breath. “Isn’t the air wonderful today?”

A’viloh followed his example, breathed deeply and let his gaze wander over the snow covered landscape with a few pines here and there and the mountains and ruins of the Steel Vigil in the distance. The air was cool and fresh, still cold enough that the warm sun couldn’t melt the snow. Instead the rays of sunshine made the scenery shine and sparkle as if everything was covered not in ice but in millions over millions of tiny diamonds.

“It is.”, he answered and smiled, surprised how beautiful this inhospitable landscape could be, before with a sudden spark of curiosity he finally asked. “Where are we going?”

“It’s not far anymore.”, Haurchefant said with a grin on his face and pointed into another direction. Shortly after and only a bit further ahead they reached a small lake.

As they got closer A‘viloh noticed that it not only was covered in a layer of snow and ice but also that quite a few off-duty soldiers, given the proximity to the camp he assumed they had to be, were standing right on top of the frozen lake. No, they were not quite standing. It looked more like they were dancing or flying maybe. More or less gracefully they moved over the lake‘s surface in fluid swift strides, some just moving in wide circles and other swirling around this way or that. A’viloh had never seen something like this and it looked strange and impossible but at the same time very beautiful to him.

The two of them had almost reached the lake by then, A’viloh a few steps ahead to get a better look at the wondrous people on the ice and he already wanted to ask how they did that, when his attention was drawn elsewhere by a curious squawking sound.

“Oh! Look at them!”, the Miqo’te exclaimed, his fascinated smile still turning a little brighter, as he gestured to a small flock of wild geese resting at the shore of the lake. With ruffled feathers they sat closely huddled together at the edge of the ice and suddenly A‘viloh couldn’t help but worry about them. They looked so unbothered by his presence, sleeping through the day and all the hubbub around them, looking all exhausted and frozen with their puffed up feathers. Like anything could happen to them and they wouldn’t even mind.

Strangely he wondered what he himself had looked like when Haurchefant had found him unconscious in the snow. He must have been a pitiful sight. Had the Elezen thought him beyond saving too, just like he himself had. What if he had found him a little later or not at all? Maybe that would have been better, a voice murmured to him just like it had so many times before and for a moment, tempted by the grief heavy on his heart once again, he almost believed it.

But no, he would be dead then and while he would have liked to imagine that this would mean he could be with his loved ones again, it was not exactly what either of the tribes he had lived with believed.

Vaguely he remembered his father working for hours, digging a grave at what used to be Wellwick Wood. An elderly woman too exhausted by their long journey, his grandmother if he remembered correctly, had died shortly after they had arrived there. With a sad smile on his face his father had explained to his children, who had stared down into the hole in the ground with confusion in their eyes, how by returning her body to the earth there could still grow new life from this death.

Or the drake tribe of the Sagolii Desert, who always burned their dead and left the ashes to be carried away by the desert wind, believing that it would make it easier for the deceased‘s aether to return to the Aetheric Sea and create something new elsewhere.

With a sudden sharp pain in his heart A’viloh realised that neither of the people he loved had gotten the burial they would have wanted for themselves. And neither had A‘viloh himself wanted to die in the coldness of Coerthas and be forever forgotten under a thick layer of snow and ice. He had thought about dying before but never had he been this close to it. For a second he wondered if this was something worth speaking to Rael about, but he wasn’t sure they wouldn’t misunderstand and get mad at him again.

“Why do you make such a sad face now?”, Haurchefant asked having noticed the smile slip from the Miqo’te’s face. But A’viloh just vehemently shook his head and focused on the geese again.

“They must be horribly cold.”, he wondered in a voice that suggested he already planned to take all of them to the safety of his comfortably warm room.

Haurchefant chuckled. “Don’t worry, they survived the storm out here after all. They keep each other warm, that’s why you‘ll rarely see one of them alone. A bit like you and your friends.”

“Maybe…”, A’viloh answered thinking about this comparison for a moment. “I just wish it wouldn’t always be me who needs to be taken care of. But as proven in Ul’dah and now once again I am simply too weak and useless to keep myself alive, not to mention anyone else.”

The Elezen’s face got a little stern as he folded his arms in front of his chest. “Don’t say that, I am sure it’s not true! This was just bad luck! You are neither weak nor useless!”

A’viloh shrugged. “But that’s how I feel right now...”

Slowly Haurchefant nodded before speaking again with a silent but determined voice. “Listen. I‘ll never forget how bravely you fought for Francel although you barely knew him. You could have gotten yourself in trouble with that and you helped him anyway.”

“It’s not like I did that on my own -”, A’viloh tried to protest but was immediately interrupted. “But you still helped! And I’m sure even without Rael you would have done so!”

Another shrug was all Haurchefant got in response, so the Elezen thought for a second before making an offer. “You want to make yourself useful, right? Get stronger? I could teach you how to fight like a real ishgardian knight, with sword and shield. Or we have some dragoons at Camp Dragonhead too! I’m sure there’s a lot you could learn from them.”

A‘viloh‘s face turned to disbelief. “I really don’t think I could fight with armor and weapons this heavy…”

“You can’t say so if you don’t try! And I have you know that dragoon armors are surprisingly light. How do you think they could still be this agile otherwise? Promise me to at least try training with them a little!”

He didn’t really want to agree to that. He knew he would make a fool of himself. But how could he say no with Haurchefant trying everything in his power to cheer him up. Weakly he shook his head and muttered: “Fine…”

“Perfect!”, Haurchefant exclaimed with a bright smile on his face. “I think an early reward for your efforts is appropriate then!”

Confused A’viloh watched him take a small bag off of his shoulders, which he hadn’t even noticed until now. For a moment the Elezen was busy undoing a knot before he opened the bag and presented to A‘viloh a set of two weirdly shaped blades attached to pieces of wood with leather straps. He had no idea what these constructs were meant to do and that was plainly visible on his face. “What’s that?”

“Ice skates of course!”, Haurchefant said as if that would explain it all but the Miqo’te‘s face remained clueless, so Haurchefant gestured to the lake behind them. “You attach them to your boots so you can walk on the ice like this!”

“Oh!”, A’viloh exclaimed as he understood what Haurchefant was planning. “I don’t think-… I mean I‘ve never-… You don’t really want me to step on that lake do you?” The idea somehow scared him.

“Why not?”, Haurchefant asked for the second time today with this smile that made the question sound like a challenge.

“It’s just a bit of ice!”, A‘vi objected. “What if it breaks?”

The Elezen shook his head and proceeded to fasten the metal blades beneath his boots. “Ah, don’t worry. The ice is thick enough, it will take at least a few more days to melt.”

“I don’t know…”, was all A’viloh replied as Haurchefant pressed another pair of skates into his hands. But the Elezen remained determined and took a few wobbly steps through the snow and onto the ice. “See! I can stand on it and it doesn’t break! You are a lot lighter than me, so why wouldn’t you be able to?”

Oh, you don’t know my bad luck!, A‘viloh thought but Haurchefant didn’t look like he would take that for an excuse. Instead he stretched out a hand towards the Miqo’te. “Come one! Believe me, this is going to be funny!”

For a second A‘viloh pondered his options. The idea of nothing but a little bit of ice between him and the water still terrified him but Haurchefant seemed so excited about this and the other people actually seemed to have fun too. Maybe he should at least pretend to try... Reluctantly he sat down on a rock and tried to put on the skates just like Haurchefant had done a moment ago.

“The clasp on the back too. Make sure none of them are loose… Yes, that looks fine!”, Haurchefant helpfully explained. As A’viloh got up, he almost flopped right back down into the snow. It was a weird feeling to balance his whole weight on only two thin pieces of metal. As he carefully took the first few steps towards the lake Haurchefant reached out for him once more. “Here! Take my hand! I don’t want you to fall…”

Hesitantly A‘vi stepped onto the ice and immediately felt like the ground was being pulled away beneath his feet. He struggled for balance, feeling himself falling backwards, so Haurchefants arm was a very welcome thing to hold on to.

With a chuckle the Elezen tried to loosen A‘vi‘s desperate grip on his arm and instead took each of his hand in one of his own before carefully making slow steps backwards pulling A‘viloh over the ice, which A’vi could swear was making suspicious crackling sounds below them. There was no way to tell the blades beneath his feet not to move, so all A’viloh could do was try not to fall and plead to Haurchefant with ears flat on his head and panic in his eyes, as he slowly was pulled further onto the lake. “No, no, no. Take me back, that’s a horrible idea!”

“Calm down. There’s nothing to be afraid of. I promise.”, Haurchefant said soothingly and continued to explain to him how to move on the ice skates. And in fact the Elezen’s calm voice slowly made A’viloh feel less anxious. His hands, frantically clasping at Haurchefant’s, relaxed along with his legs. It was still a weird feeling to be standing on the ice but now it felt a lot easier to remain balanced. He glanced at the people around them while remaining as still as possible, studied their movements for a moment and then tentatively tried to mimic the way they slowly pushed their feet above the slippery surface. To his surprise he really moved forward without much effort and also without feeling the sensation of falling again, closer to Haurchefant who had steadied him with his outstretched arms so far.

“See! It’s not that difficult.”, he said while making another step backwards so A’viloh had to follow with another step forward. The Miqo’te, strangely excited about the fact that he was actually moving on these weird ice-blades, laughed happily. “You are even going backwards!”

Haurchefants laughed. “One step after the other. Let’s teach you how to go forward first, hm? I‘ll let go off one of your hands but don’t worry, I still got you. One feet after the other just like you did before…”

In fact it almost felt easier now that he could use one of his arms to balance himself. Very slowly at first they floated above the icy surface of the lake but soon A‘viloh got braver. Once he almost lost his balance but for a comparably tall and strong person like Haurchefant it seemed like a very easy task to keep a small Miqo’te on his feet. Almost falling had felt like a shock for a second but only moments later they were laughing about it and in the end A’viloh was surprised and also a little proud how quickly he had learned and how much fun this was.

He wasn’t sure how much time they spent there on the frozen lake but at some point a bell sounded from the nearby Camp. Startled A’viloh looked up (and almost lost his balance again). “How late is it? I’m sure you have more important things to do than this! I’m sorry if I’m keeping you from doing your work.”

But Haurchefant just laughed and teased, “What could be more important than prove to you that not all of Coerthas is a deadly wasteland trying to kill you? But I think we really should return soon. I don’t want you to get cold again and after all we also don’t want Rael to find out about this little excursion, do we?”

For a second A’viloh wished the viera could see him now and wondered what their reaction would be like. The thought made him chuckle.

And as they floated, one last circle around the lake, A’viloh couldn’t help but wonder that maybe it was happy moments like this. The reason he was still here. Moments that made his life worth living.

---

inspired by the poem The Reversal by Leila Chatti

[itspileofgoodthings]

tags continued from prev post.

[windor-truffle]

happy 4th birthday to my WIP long fic Two Hearts Could Be One!!!

[longagoitwastuesday]

I actually like the last chapter. I think the ideas are very good. I have my qualms on how some things were managed, as I always do, but I think shonen authors get tangled in the expectations of a shonen to the point it jeopardises their writing, often even when they're not lacking in skills