do you still write opera fic (or other [musicals?]?)? any WIPS?
in theory yes. in practice i haven't had the motivation or time since like last summer
unless i get freak level obsessed with a thing, during the school year i usually have no time or motivation to write fic because i'm so busy reading and writing academic papers and stuff. i also don't read for pleasure much during the school year for the same reason. i usually have more time on breaks and over the summer, but then it's a matter of motivation and inspiration. even when i do have time on my hands i need a good idea to want to write and the luck of fate i guess to actually do so. and ironically while everything i write i write for the primary audience of myself, and appeal to what i personally want out of a fic, i am far better at Doing Things when i have external motivation. and the things i end up writing fic about more often than not are things that have like. a realistic potential audience of like 4 people, if i'm lucky, ha. so i don't really get the benefit of commenters or a rapt audience motivating me to keep writing.
there are still a few outstanding longform fics that, while i haven't touched in over a year, i haven't totally given up on the concept of finishing them. right now this would pretty much be the devil you know (don giovanni), starlight (oklahoma!), and the 25th annual solesian national spelling bee (fantasy high), all of which are relatively long multichapter works which i haven't acutally finished writing yet, but have at least loosely planned out an ending an a way to get there. fantasy high is the only one that i would hazard to say has a real potential audience, but since the junior year season disappointed me, i haven't gotten the interest back enough to keep writing that one just yet. but it's got enough behind it already that i don't want to entirely abandon it. starlight at this point is old enough to enroll in kindergarten (i started it shortly after i finished high school. jesus christ) and i don't even want to list the au qualifiers attached to that thing here lest i succumb to the cringe, but the story and the characters are still so dear to my heart i don't have it in me to truly abandon her. and the devil you know is similar, though (at least at this time) i think the premise is less cringe; i have Ideas for it still, but i don't have the drive to finish it right now unfortunately. or the audience. but i know better than to expect that anyone but myself is really reading fic of old ass operas and musicals.
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Lie Awake
A TMNT 2012 Casey and Raph ficlet [AO3]
word count: 1,191
just a small drabble focusing on Casey and his view of their relationship. I didn't write this as a ship fic, but I do ship them so you can interpret it as platonic or romantic
Casey hates people seeing him as weak. He wears every cut, bruise and mark like a medal, a badge of honour for a hockey game well played or a fight well fought. He hates when neighbours or the school populace look at him with pity in their eyes and sympathy coating their words like sponge covering a toddlers playroom or bubble wrap suffocating a porcelain doll.
So what if he doesn't have a mom anymore? Who cares about his deadbeat dad? Casey is keeping his promise and at almost 17 is protecting and looking after his sister, the best player on a hockey team within the region and a vigilante the purple dragons will write legends about. He is strong and brave. He bounces back from anything with a witty comment and a toothy grin. Missing incisors be damned.
So why is this different? Strong, calloused, leathery hands gently graze over fragile skin. Instead of the usual burn of anger such caution would ignite, Casey Jones feels a sense of calm and his breath almost gets caught in his throat. Almost. Arms he has seen tear robots to shreds, dislocate joints from vigilantes, break monstrous jaws are now delicately tracing over his pale soft surface, well- it should be pale but the current complection is primarily a mixture of injuries, marks and dirt. Purple, blue, green, yellow, pinks, reds- any colour besides a natural skin tone coats his body like a vandalised back alley wall.
The hand stops moving and instead a comforting weight is placed across Casey's chest and torso. The weight he has seen choke and crush wrong-dooers, crack brick walls and dent spaceship walls now comfortably rests along his side like a weighted blanket, the arm across his middle.
Awareness of his current location comes back. Why's the ceiling looking blurry suddenly? Casey realises his eyes are starting to water. These can't be tears of frustration though? Maybe these are not new tears but the remnants of the storm that leaked from those eyes earlier this evening, in the privacy of these four walls as his own inner walls crumbled in Front of his current companion. No mask or face paint or armour, no facade of cokyness and happiness. His emotions are raw and his mind is still screaming at him, maybe that's why he hadn't noticed the burning eyes. These tears can't be new. Definitely not! He's happy and safe now, why would they be? He is brought from his thoughts as a hard smooth surface buts the bottom of his jaw, sending a short vibration of pain through his skull.
"'Ya sure this is alright?" A gruff voice nervously whispers.
"Yeah, 's fine" he mumbles back before finally looking down at the friend pressed against him. His own voice sounds raspy and sore. Perfect.
Raph has put his head back down on the pillow, his beak fitting like a jigsaw puzzle in the gap above Casey's shoulder. The bolt he'd felt had been from Ralph bucking his head to hit his jaw with the top curve of his beak. It hurt a little but he isn't fragile. Raph knows that. All he can feel now is that comforting weight on his side. He's focusing on it. Raph certainly wasn't scared to touch him. Why else would he hit him to gain his attention?
Soft cold breath gently brushes against Casey's neck in delicate puffs.
"I can sleep on the floor y'know?" tiredly drifts out of the terrapin creatures mouth "This bed ain't exactly made for two"
"Nah it's your room, I'm the intruder"
"Hmm" Raph lazily hums and slightly squeezes his ribs, getting comfortable in his squashed position on the edge of the bed "a warm one".
Casey sits there in silence for a bit, his friend drifting off to sleep. The overwhelming smell of sweat and blood and the sewers clogging his nose. Raphael is the only person Casey talks to about his home life, the only one he talks about his troubles too. He knows Raph instils that same comfort and confidence in him as he tells the lanky teen his own insecurities and secrets.
Tender moments like these however? They usually proceed fights. Fights they start coated in darkness or just heated spars between friends who are shouting and blowing off steam. They'd collapse with exhaustion on some random rooftop and through jagged breaths become vulnerable, no eye contact, maybe a squeeze of the hand or a punch in the side to let the other one know they're there. Kind, soft and comforting pain. Like the kind you get from laughing too hard or playing a game. It is strange to think they are now squashed and laid across each other, even if the reptile insists the body warmth was an exciting upgrade to his sleeping arrangement.
Casey was kicked out tonight after a particularly bad fight at home, he limped his way to his usual meeting spot and a few texts later Raph was on his way. He's going to be staying here with his friend, just tonight... he'll go home tomorrow. No one else in the sewer family needs to know why, Raph will come up with a lame excuse to torment him with. The thought makes him smile a little. Raph is the epitome of masculinity. Testosterone coats his existence like a second shell. He's violent and abrasive and yet here he is, not throwing punches, but still being gentle. His body weight is not entirely on top of the teen, but it is there along his right side nonetheless. He wasn't repulsed by Casey and he hadn't tried sugar coating anything all night. When he 'picked him up' he'd joked at Casey's expense and made the boy laugh. Casey wasn't too sure how Raph managed to create such a strong positive moment up on that rooftop in those circumstances. But none of the Hamato clan followed logic by nature so maybe that is not so surprising.
Casey isn't sure why this isn't affecting him the way it usually does. He feels calm and safe, even stripped down to his boxers and pressed into an old smelly matrice and cold metal wall.
Maybe it's because he keeps reminding himself that Raph doesn't see the squishy, thin human as delicate. He knows the turtle enough to know he considers Casey a great enough fighter to stand amongst his brothers, without any formal training or skill.
Maybe that's why this tender moment is nice? Raph isn't scared Casey will break, he wouldn't touch him if he thought he'd be hurt. Raph wouldn't joke with him and invite him here like this. The ninja had seen the boy break earlier, as he broke down and sobbed on the bed when they first arrived at the decorated subway car. The weight against him now is heavy, not crushing. It's grounding him.
Why is being treated tenderly so nice right now? Maybe that's the kind of privilege having a best friend creates? He doesn't remember his childhood friend creating such a welcoming environment before though.
Casey hates people seeing him as weak. Raph doesn't, even now.
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