#augu. they are making me SICK. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

augustmishas · 1 year ago

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hello it is tumblr user augustmishas here with more reasons you should consider voting for my sweet man 🫶 this is honestly kind of messy because i have so much to say and so little structure in my brain.

also some fanart ^^

propaganda below! lots of spoilers

august's role in the story is haunting by nature. he’s dead from the start of the game, and everything we learn about him is shown through flashbacks and dreams. he, hisoka and chikage are family--august adopted them, but he is wholly absent for the story.

his death is the direct cause of hisoka's amnesia, which is the trigger of most of hisoka's character arcs and a whole lot of other shit. interestingly, if august hadn't done what he did when he was dying, there's a chance things could have gone very differently. august's actions when he dies are the first catalyst for a whole series of events, in which chikage wrongly believes hisoka was the one who murdered august. his name is first mentioned while hisoka still has no memories, and the player has absolutely no idea who he is, when a sick hisoka says:

and then promptly forgets again. it's kind of creepy, and immediately makes the player wonder who august is, which they won't find out until much later.

as an explanation for my fanart, august died under the night of a bright moon. while hisoka has amnesia, he says "only the moon is watching me" and "the loneliness of the cold moon is strangely nostalgic to me." the moon represents gekkagumi as a whole (moon group) which was triggered by august adopting him and hisoka, but also the way august died. the moon “watching” hisoka could be an early sign of what hisoka and chikage believe. that august will always be watching over them. he also appears in their dreams, but since he’s dead, it’s debatable whether this is really him, and is never explained. maybe he’s a ghost. maybe it’s just hisoka and chikage wishing to see him again.

august adopting hisoka and chikage as children means they both got to live, but it also gave august so much guilt he basically accepted death when he was threatened with it. if august had not chosen to recruit them, hisoka, and probably chikage, would be dead now, but would august?

when august died, he gave hisoka amnesia as part of a failed plan in good nature. his death was used to manipulate and cause harm, which is the last thing august would have ever wanted. the story that is triggered by august's death was the exact Opposite of who he was and who he stood for, but stemmed from his own decisions. his own death was the catalyst for the last thing august would ever want to happen. his death was held over chikage for manipulation; chikage held august’s death in his heart to get false revenge on his own family. hisoka’s amnesia--caused by august--definitely made the story harder, as hisoka was unable to defend himself from chikage, and chikage felt angered that hisoka couldn’t even remember murdering august.

hisoka witnessed august’s death. In his last moments, august wished for hisoka to “forget about me … live a new life.” hisoka takes this dying wish very to heart, to the point where when hisoka Can remember who he used to be, he starts to stress about how he carries it with him, since august deliberately erased his memories to save him the pain of their old life. hisoka starts to believe he has to “throw away his memories”, because that is what august died wishing for. it directly stunts hisoka’s growth after his death, which again, is probably not what august wanted. a very common theme with august is that he has good intentions that spiral into bad things without him meaning it, and it carries on past his death. hisoka has to learn to disobey august’s dying wish in order to carry on, so he keeps his memories of the past and his life as “december” (old name, they’re months) with him. they’re precious memories, and the only connections to august he has left :(( he has this beautiful monolouge in the risky game event story!

hisoka has nothing but memories, while chikage actually has august's ring we see in his provided image. hisoka was lost after august's death, far away from where they lived, while chikage was forced to directly confront his death and take action.

to chikage, the ring is prove august lived, but also proof that he died. funnily enough, we learn that in the past august suggested they get matching rings, but died before this was able to happen. he says almost the same thing as chikage in the present, despite chikage not being there. funnily enough, hisoka assumes chikage (april), who inherits august's ring after he dies, would hate the idea.

BONUS STUFF :]]

i mentioned this in my first propaganda but i'm saying it again. august (ie misha. yes the names are confusing they all have two) used to own a candy store, where everyone really loved him. it wasn't even in japan where the story is set, and by coincidence hisoka stumbles into a kid from there who still clearly remembers him. the store had cookies that apparently grant wishes, and the kid made a wish in august's shop to be a painter. now he is a painter! he says this, and holds onto august's own wish for years despite being unable to understand japanese.

IT'S ALSO HIS MONTH IN TWO DAYS!! if for no reason please vote for him. LET HIM LEAVE JULY! also uh. the person who actually killed him is called july. yep!

Haunting the Narrative Round 2 Side A

Haunting the narrative means that the character’s absence heavily impacts the plot. They’re not present or active in the story when their influence is most strongly felt, whether they’re alive or dead!

#a3!#gekkagumi #IF THERE ARE ANY SPELLING MISTAKES I'M SO SORRY!

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hatari-translations · 4 years ago

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Daði Freyr ft. Don Tox - Heyri ekki (Can’t Hear) - transcript/translation

This song, requested by anon, is significantly rap in a mixture of French and English. I’m afraid I know maybe three entire sentences of French, so I could only transcribe the Icelandic portion; however, the fantastic okarynna has generously transcribed and translated those parts for me and even provided notes in the vein of what I do! Huge thanks for that.

Icelandic/French/English transcript

DAÐI: (Dans)

DON TOX: On est calés collés serrés, ça vaut le coût d’essayer Si j’aimais l’ambiance, histoire de semer le feu et c’est la folie I don’t care if the neighbour call the police They are coming, no worries they join us in the party On va casser la baraque et d’entrée Pense à rien, tout ce qu’on veut mon gars c’est danser De malade à la clinique et on consomme la teuf (fête) comme de la pill Et déjà tout mon stress se relativise

Shake-a-shake-a-shake your body On révèle tellement on regorge d’énergie T’es accro de (?) ce soir on craque denordi (ordinaire) Tu veux savoir c’est qui par là, c’est God c’est Daði C’est toi qui es zarbi (bizarre) Tu fais genre t’as peur du dancefloor Bouge sur l’électronique comme sur du dancehall T’es sous l’emprise of a super McSort ouais Faut que tu t’agites down on the bass drop

DAÐI: Heyri ekki hvað þú ert að segja Það er í lagi, þú veist hvað ég meina Við komum ekki til þess að spjalla Við komum til þess að stíga dans

Heyri ekki hvað þú ert að segja Það er í lagi, þú veist hvað ég meina Við komum ekki til þess að spjalla Við komum til þess að stíga dans

(Dans)

Við horfumst í augu En þau segja allt sem segja þarf Annað getur beðið betri stað og betri tíma, getum útkljáð þetta seinna Við horfumst í augu Ég þarf ekki að vita meir á þessu augnabliki

DON TOX: Þa-þa-þa-þa-það skiptir ekki máli On fait la vague que je parle Islandais C’est pas sorcier fait juste bouger ton corps C’est maintenant ou jamais pourquoi t’hésites encore Commence par un pas et je ferai le deuxième Ici le contrat c’est fully autorisé Yo vernissez les pierres et soulève le plafond On fait crouler le sky on s’entoure des glaçons Prends ça comme une dose the mushrooms, fait ce que tu veux Rien à foutre, t’occupe pas de ceux qui en souffrent Nous on est plus forts à la pêche Les maux en tant que tels on les garde dans la tête Dans la même crêche, on est déjà dans la sphère ouais Plus on transpire on se baigne dans la fête

Tel un monastère faut pas crier hallelujah On a du mal à voir on est dans le brouillard Faut soulever la tête comme le ferais ma booyah Ici y’a pas le temps des goujats

DAÐI: Heyri ekki hvað þú ert að segja Það er í lagi, þú veist hvað ég meina Við komum ekki til þess að spjalla Við komum til þess að stíga dans

Heyri ekki hvað þú ert að segja Það er í lagi, þú veist hvað ég meina Við komum ekki til þess að spjalla Við komum til þess að stíga dans

English translation

DAÐI: (Dance)

DON TOX: We’re all crammed in together, it’s worth a try Gotta set the mood, I light the place on fire and it goes crazy I don’t care if the neighbour call the police They are coming, no worries they join us in the party We’re gonna raise the roof that’s for sure Don’t think about it man, all we wanna do is dance We were sick now we’re at the clinic, we’re popping this party like it’s a pill I can already feel my stress going down

Shake-a-shake-a-shake your body We’re out here basking in loads of energy You’re addicted to (?) tonight we’re breaking free You wanna know who’s up there, it’s God it’s Daði You’re the one who’s being weird You act like you’re scared of the dancefloor Move on the electronic beat like it’s dancehall You’re under a super McSpell yeah You gotta move it down on the bass drop

DAÐI: Can't hear what you're saying That's fine, you know what I mean We didn't come here to chat We came here to dance

Can't hear what you're saying That's fine, you know what I mean We didn't come here to chat We came here to dance

(Dance)

We look in each other's eyes But they say everything that needs to be said Everything else can wait for a better place and better time, we can work it out later We look in each other's eyes I don't need to know any more in this moment

DON TOX: It-it-it-it-it doesn't matter Let’s do the wave ‘cause I’m speaking Icelandic There’s no secret to it, just move your body It’s now or never, why are you hesitating Start with a step and I’ll make the second one Here’s the contract it’s fully authorized Yo polish the floor and raise the roof We make the sky drop down and we’re surrounded by ice cubes Take it like a dose of mushrooms, do want you want to Don’t give a damn, don’t worry about those can’t take it We’re the best, we’re in great form Let’s keep the aches in our own heads In the same kindergarten, we’re in the right sphere yeah The more we sweat we can bathe in the party

Like at a monastery we must not yell hallelujah We can’t see ‘cause we’re standing in the fog We gotta lift our heads up like my booyah would We haven’t got time for boors

DAÐI: Can't hear what you're saying That's fine, you know what I mean We didn't come here to chat We came here to dance

Can't hear what you're saying That's fine, you know what I mean We didn't come here to chat We came here to dance

okarynna's French transcription/translation notes

(Again, huge thanks to okarynna for providing these!)

I can now definitely sympathize with how difficult it is to transcribe rap parts, Don Tox gave me a run for my money! I will preface this with the fact that I am French-Canadian, and Don Tox sounds like a Frenchman to me, so I’m not 100% familiar with all the expressions he uses. He mixes in random English phrases as well as “verlan” (a French habit of speaking words backwards, so “fête” becomes “teuf”), so my this is my best try at interpretation.

“Teuf” is verlan for “fête”: party “Zarbi” is verlan for “bizarre”: weird

“On révèle tellement on regorge d’énergie” doesn’t make a lot of sense, as “révéler” means to uncover. But it may be an anglicism using the word “to revel in something”, so I went with that.

“On craque denordi” I’ve completely made this up but it’s all I can hear, and it sounds like it “denordi” could be verlan for “ordinaire”: normal. It’s worth noting he used the word “craque” which could also be “crack” as in the drug. Could be a regional thing. He does refer multiple times to partying and dancing feeling like a drug to him.

Yes, that is “McSort” or “McSpell” as is “McDonalds”.

As far as I’m aware “polir les pierres” is not an actual idiom, but it does sound to me like it could mean “polish the floor” as in you dance so hard that the floor shines.

“Nous on est plus forts à la pêche” literally means “we’re the best at fishing” which makes no sense here. However, “avoir la pêche” or “une pêche d’enfer” means to be in good shape, to have lots of energy, and that seems to fit in better. In both these idioms, the word “pêche” is actually the fruit, a peach.

“Les maux on les garde dans la tête” is a clever word play, because “maux de tête” means “headaches” and he says they gotta keep them in their heads.

In France “la crèche” is the kindergarten, the daycare for young children. I’m not sure what he’s getting at, probably that himself and whoever he’s talking to come from the same place?

#daði freyr #don tox #heyri ekki #lyrics #transcript #translation #icelandic #french

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aveaugvstus · 4 years ago

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❛ You made a mistake. Everybody makes them. Even me. I’ve made many. It’s only fair that you made one. ❜

it’s strange how the passage of time warps and bends around the shape of the people in your life, the silhouettes they carve from the liminal space of your soul — it’s like that thing about stars and how when you’re looking up at the night sky, you’re actually looking at stars that could be already be dead a hundred years ago, their fading requiem only just now reaching earth’s stratosphere, a thousand light years away.

this is what it feels like to see vladimir standing in the door frame of his childhood bedroom looking like the ghost of fuck-ups past. ( he has no lock now, which is mildly insulting and excruciatingly patronising; he’s an addict, not bloody suicidal, but to his family the distinction might as well be non-existent. ) he looks different, and also like nothing has changed at all in a way that august can’t quite pinpoint. it’s as if he’s lost his ability to translate him; the myriad tiny, insignificant nuances and habits he used to obsessively decrypt with his very own rosetta stone, a whole stele for the vladimir yamatov script, forgotten like a dead language. or maybe he no longer cares to. he doesn’t know if that should make him feel nostalgic, or furious, or bittersweet. feeling particularly strongly about anything these days is a herculean task in and of itself. which, he supposes, was the original sin that instigated everything to begin with.

he thinks he can remember asking vladimir to come home.

he thinks he can almost remember begging, knees in the dirt and gravel scraping his flesh raw, over voicemail like a needy fling who had accidentally gone and done the thing you and every other idiot knows you’re not supposed to do, and fallen.

he thinks he might have begged for absolution.

but that could have also been the sixth line of blow cut with ketamine and procaine and only god and the devil knows what else ( he’d been desperate, it was three a.m. in camden ) and he’s composed text messages nay, goddamn fucking letters, ad nauseam, ad infinitum, like he’s on the receiving end of some dear john bullshit, and he’s never been sure which of them actually made it to the send button. he’s smashed, or lost, or misplaced, half a dozen phones, for all the futile effort to replace them. collateral damage in the dawning realisation that vladimir wasn’t replying because he was mercilessly leaving him on read, but because he wasn’t receiving them at all, and judging by his infrequent instagram updates, was doing absolutely fine / fuck him, happy / having the time of his fucking life on his primitive anti-tech detox.

for a moment, he entertains the fleeting, whimsical distraction that this could be yet another delusion. after all, he’s conjured vladimir enough times that this wouldn’t be unusual. ( why, sometimes i’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast. ) he has imagined vladimir heartsick, wretchedly beside himself with guilt. he has painted him alabastrine, cold and immovable, patron saint raphael of the lost and the meek indifferent to august’s self-inflicted torment. he has envisioned him lit with madness, seized in catastrophic rage, gripping him by the jaw and rattling his bones till he might see reason. there were other imaginings, too, steeped in the unspeakable, tauntings of an uninhibited mind free to conceptualise the reality of its most ludicrous desire. in the worst dream, the most terrible, most fantastical one, vladimir comes home because of him. for him. it plays out like the final scene of a cult romantic comedy, or the odyssey, maybe, much-enduring odysseus returning home to penelope at last. two shadows, reaching through the hopeless, heavy dusk, their hands meeting as light spills in a flood, the sky pouring out the sun. and he would take his other-soul’s face in his hands and kiss him and say the words this lifetime’s vladimir would never say.

there is, of course, a singular difference in this one. this vladimir. the vladimir he filled his dreams with never looked at him like this. with this curious amalgamation of horror and — most tellingly so; am i not what you expected, vladimir? how did you imagine you would find me? beatific? flourishing? — disgust.

august knows what he looks like. five shades too pale and ashen, like the vivacity has been drained right out of him. a layer of grease shines in his hair, the fade he alway maintains with meticulous care and precision grown out into his natural, unruly curls. he’s not quite skeletal, his frame was always too lean and muscular for that, but he seems perilously thin for his height. it shows in his face, he knows even though he’s been avoiding mirrors and isn’t allowed one anyway, because a) addicts use those to cut their coke, and b) suicidal ones might be inclined to break them, he knows because of the way his mum looks at him when she comes into his room to bring him his meals three times a day like a convict. it hurts him a little, more than the physical pain of looking at vladimir, of hearing his voice, that he sees him like this. he had not been informed in advance that vladimir would come calling. if he had, he would’ve — he doesn’t know what he would’ve done ( attempted an escape, maybe; broken his twelve-day sobriety, maybe ) but he might’ve. cleaned up a little. tried to look less like a shell of himself. augustus has always been vain, has always been a gilded, preening thing who took great pride in being pretty and well-loved for it. it pains him. not to be even that anymore. he is rusted. tarnished.

if he had known, maybe he would have told vladimir not to come.

now that he is here, he is split in two, cleaved in half by the urge to tell him to go and the more pressing compulsion to make him stay to never go never leave again never go anywhere that is out of his sight out of his life out of him.

his ambivalence makes him poor company and a poorer conversationalist. not that this is entirely his fault — what are they supposed to do? chat about the weather and trade perfunctory banter just to fill the air? he’d rather do a line right here in front of vladimir.

your hair is longer, august had said. the only thing other than what are you doing here, which had come out of his mouth, part-shock and part-petulance, when his mother had opened the door and presented vladimir like some screwed-up surprise gift for reaching a whopping week and a half of not being a fucking disappointment to everyone around him. so, now he can disappoint the person that matters most fundamentally, tortuously, to him in the world, too. how delightful.

vladimir’s hair being longer is the only thing he can think to say that doesn’t make him want to give in to the pulverising sensation in his head, in his bones, in his chest, screaming for a deus ex machina reprieve. if this is what they have come to — the two of them, who had spent their entire lives talking about nothing and everything till they could anticipate exactly what the other’s response would be — augustus is glad he didn’t come home sooner. he looks handsome, which feels like another slight against august’s pride. rugged and sun-soaked like a male model cum travel influencer, but one that actually does something meaningful with his life. time, and sunlight, and the kind of hard labour that builds muscle definition and character, has certainly been kinder to him than it has been to august. he doesn’t say you look good because that would sound like he has any remotely positive feelings towards this interaction, and, indeed, the cause of vladimir’s looking like a golden, newly-anointed demi-god. it seems they have traded places. or maybe vladimir is exactly who he was always supposed to be. and august is, too.

august supposes it’s the silence, and the reality that vladimir cannot abide it either, that prompts him to say what he does.

what happened?

he doesn’t say anything for a long moment, he drifts in the absence of an answer because he is allowed to, because he is technically, partially an invalid now, and people who are sick are allowed to be not altogether there.

( sick. malaised. he likes this word for it. he likes that there is a scientific explanation for what he is. a brain disease. a diagnosable mental illness. see, vladimir, he almost wants to say, a little deranged part of him finally gleeful at not having a pedestal to stand on anymore, you aren’t special. i’m fucked up now, too. )

well, vladimir. it’s a very long story that i don’t care to repeat as i’ve recounted the tales to you so many times through missives you were never inclined to respond to. there was angel, and bennie, there was emmy, and good old molly. ah, and charlie, my favourite of the lot. ours was a whirldwind love affair. but it turns out i loved him more than he loved me. seems like i have a nasty little habit of doing that. it’s one i haven’t learned to kick yet.

god — august...

it’s the look of wrenching disgust, again. the thing that twists and snakes across vladimir’s face and awakes something snarling and animal shackled to august’s throat, something that slams into him chest-first and doesn’t stop until it’s gone right through him, left him raw, all bloodied edge and teeth.

what happened? what happened? what’s the point of asking now when it’s all been said and done. how long am i supposed to carry this black mark? until everyone around me deigns to let me bury it? i’m not a fucking child.

it’s not an explanation, which is what vladimir is after. he would know, however, if he had bothered to answer august any of those times. he would know, he would have known, if he hadn’t left august in their bed that morning at the warwickshire summer palace and run from everything they’d ever touched. they’d had the world world in their hands in that bed, in that room, in that place of stolen summer outside of time, outside of life itself. they could have had — everything. everything august had to give. and he gave it, and vladimir looked him in the eye and decided it was not for him.

you made a mistake. everybody makes them. even me. i’ve made many. it’s only fair that you made one.

he feels each word grate right through him, each syllable catching on his skin like little knives, the thin strand keeping him tethered to the present grinding down into dust and bone. he doesn’t blame vladimir for what happened to him. he blames him for leaving. but it’s a mistake that vladimir won’t — can’t acknowledge because to do that, he would have to admit to the thing he doesn’t want to say, or can’t say, and august can’t make him say it. that’s what made him do it, the first night at that grimy, filthy club in the berlin underground. that’s what made him want to trade his soul for just a night of rapture so euphoric he wouldn’t have to remember how fucking miserable it was to be unloved by the one person you thought you were meant for. but then, it’s never just one night is it? it couldn’t have been. you don’t get over something like that with one goddamn night.

( if august were honest, and his heart not surrendered, he would say it was this, too: that vladimir could walk away from them, has always been able to walk away, and think nothing of it. him. that vladimir had found purpose and higher meaning in something other than themselves and the stupid, foolish, boyish dreams they used to talk about like they might someday happen. that august had disappointed him somehow by, what, not being enough? not living up to the unearned greatness that vladimir saw in him and was supposedly the only person in the world who could? that vladimir would forge a path for himself in life that diverged from august and not feel his soul rending itself in half to be half a world away from him, and survive it. — it was enough to ruin him then, it still ruins him now. )

“if you’ve come all this way just to lecture to me, you can sod the fuck off back to phuket or hanoi or fucking antarctica if that’s what you want. maybe there’s some disease-riddled penguins out there that you can save to sate your saviour complex. saint francis of assisi. a non-shitty mother teresa. malala.”

he’s exhausted before the first word leaves his mouth, strung out just with the effort of starting, but he can’t stop them now any more than he can stop the hunger and thirst clawing at his head howling for a drop of blood, a pound of flesh, any part of him that it can cannibalise in retribution for starving. it’s easier to be cruel than to be wounded, better to be the conqueror than the fallen — but right now it just feels like he is going through his twelfth or two hundredth day of withdrawal and the boy he loves has come back but not the way august wanted and not the way he wants to be wanted. it hurts just to look at him, it hurts to have him looking back. every part of his body aches with dependence, codependence. they’re the definition of it. see what happens to me when you are not in my life?

alexander lay on hephaestion’s bed for three days. but you are not him. you are just a spoiled, arrogant, silver-spooned nothing who will never amount to greatness, glory, or anything at all. it is no wonder he would not have you.

his rage breaks, like sea foam crashing against cliffs; it rends and shatters down the fault line mapped throughout his body, the one that winds from his throat to his sternum, down to his thighs and feet, and aches forever mostly at his heel. helpless to the unbidden trembling of his hands as he curls them around the sheets of his bed, unmoored. he looks small and disarmed, more lost than he’s ever been with vladimir by his side. it doesn’t mean the same thing anymore, does it? not if he cannot make vladimir stay. whatever they had between them — is it damaged, now. they could rebuild it, but the foundations would still bear the memory of where the cracks lie. he would still remember this look on vladimir’s face.

he has looked at him a thousand times, and there has always been an echo reverberating between them. the wavelength of an elegy he knows the words to like they are writ upon heartbeat, upon headstone. there have been other faces, but vladimir’s eyes have always been the same. fathomless as distant stars in an entire universe light years away and yet close enough to touch if he dared to. if it is fate, or circumstance, or a reiteration of the immortality that stands between them and their freedom, then he already knows how this ends. vladimir knows it, too. it doesn’t make him want it any less. it doesn’t make him suffer for it any less. this ache he has spent an eternity chasing after, this feeling of being so incandescently alive that even death cannot keep them apart, this is what vladimir ran from. augustus cannot blame him. if he was not the one who always outlived him, he’d do the same.

“is this why you came back? because you think you can save me, too?”

#SING O MUSE AND THROUGH ME TELL THE STORY. / ASK.#HE IS HALF OF MY SOUL AS THE POETS SAY. / VLADIMIR.#T. / MODERNITY.#addiction tw #drug abuse tw #suicide mention tw #this is going to make you think twice about ever casually sending me memes #hehe

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ryukoishida · 7 years ago

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Gundam IBO Fic: In which Yamagi is sick and Shino visits him.

Title: Shot on Goal Author: ryukoishida Fandom: Mobile Suit Gundam: Iron-Blooded Orphans Genre: Fluff Rating: PG Character(s)/Pairing(s): Norba Shino/Yamagi Gilmerton (ShinoYama); also features Ride, Biscuit, Eugene, Mikazuki, Akihiro Prompt: When Yamagi is sick with the flu. [Modern high school AU] Commission for: Client doesn’t want to be tagged, but they’re gracious enough to let me post it on this blog, so yay!

Writing Commission | Editing and Translation Service

From the same AU:

i. Modern Love Affair

“Is Orga going to be okay? He’s been sick for three days already…”

In the men’s change room, someone is asking the vice-captain of Tekkadan High School’s ice hockey team, a junior with a small, lean stature but a speedy and aggressive play style that has all other top-tier teams shiver with fear just from hearing his name: Mikazuki Augus.

“Calm down, Eugene,” he’s saying now as he unlaces his skates in an unhurried pace, his voice drawling in his usual calm manner that always makes his teammates wonder whether the young man ever worries about anything, “I visited him yesterday; he’s getting better already. Biscuit forced him to rest for another day just to make sure he fully recovers.”

“I’m just worried about our next match against Gjallarhorn,” Eugene Sevenstark states, brows dipped in worry as he mercilessly stuffs his jersey into his duffle bag. “It’s coming up this weekend and he’s been missing practice for the last few days. We’ve been playing in the same hockey club since we were thirteen, and I’ve never seen him miss more than a day of practice. Remember that time when he had that high fever two years ago?”

“He was fiercer and more reckless than usual,” Akihiro Altland, a brawny forward whose prowess and animalistic instinct are almost as frightfully acclaimed as Mikazuki’s brutal nature on the ice, recalls that particular match with a thoughtful murmur, “but we did win against the Brewers — 5 to 2, I believe?”

“Yeah, and then he passed out right after and had to be sent to the hospital for an IV drip,” Biscuit Griffon, the team’s dependable goaltender and clever tactician, shakes his head with a helpless expression – a mix of fondness and frustration for his idiotic friend and captain. “He just doesn’t know when to stop unless someone’s there to physically restrain him.”

They can all agree on their captain’s obstinate and passionate nature, at least. There’s no stopping Orga Itsuka once they see the blazing flames in those determined golden eyes; that’s also the reason why the entire team has entrusted the ambition and goal of winning this year’s National Inter-High Hockey Championships on him.

“You’re strangely quiet, Shino,” Biscuit observes from his place on the bench, his attention focused on the young man who has frozen in place by his locker, eyes glazed and head deep in his own thought, in the midst of packing up his own articles as they prepare to leave for the day. “What’s wrong?”

When Tekkadan’s right-winger, who’s known for his eccentric style on-ice as well as his gregarious personality off-ice, doesn’t reply, Biscuit sighs and tries again, this time a little louder, “Oi, earth to Shino!”

“Huh?” Norba Shino drops the towel he’s been holding at the call of his name, and he looks a little sheepish when he turns to see Biscuit giving him a perplexed glance. “W-what’s up?”

“You seem pretty out of it — during practice, too, you’ve missed far too many easy passes today,” Biscuit says, choosing his words carefully in case he steps on a sensitive topic that Shino may not feel comfortable enough to talk to him about, though he has a sense that it has to do with the library monitor Shino has let slip a few weeks ago. He had been blushing: Norba Shino, who has no awareness of shame when it comes to embarrassing topics common for their age like relationship and sex, was genuinely blushing when he accidentally blurted out to Eugene about the cute library monitor who almost killed him with a stack of hard-cover books — unintentionally, of course.

Biscuit had been watching the entire exchange, but had said nothing then.

“Was it really that bad?” Shino chuckles uneasily, a hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“If Orga had been here today, he would have yelled at you and gotten you to do extra shooting drills after practice. So, do you want to tell me what’s going on? I may not be able to help, but I’m always here to lend an ear.”

“Thanks, Biscuit,” Shino slaps his teammate’s shoulder lightly with a small grin, and then his face crumbles once again into that uncharacteristic distracted expression seldom seen on the confident young man. “The thing is… You know how this wave of flu has already affected so many people at school?”

He pauses again, uncertain of how to resume, and Biscuit nods encouragingly for him to continue. The flu season always arrives at this time every year, and some students are more resistant to the virus than others; however, this year’s virus seems especially vicious, since it’s strong enough even to defeat the great Orga Itsuka himself who boasts of never falling sick for more than two days.

“There’s someone…” Shino starts again, lowering his head as he tries to concentrate on putting the rest of his personal items into his bag, “…he hasn’t shown up at school for the last couple of days, and I’m worried… I mean, it’s probably nothing, right? People take days off school all the time! And it’s none of my business, obviously, because we’re not that close or anything—”

“Why don’t you go visit him and see for yourself?” Biscuit smoothly interrupts Shino’s rambling monologue and suggests.

“That’s a bit too forward,” Shino’s eyes flicker, and then he looks over at the goaltender hesitantly, “don’t you think?”

“The Norba Shino I know would take any opportunity — even the stupidest, most risky ones — to try for a goal,” Biscuit says, a hand on the forward’s shoulder a comfortable weight.

There’s a brief moment during which Biscuit can almost see the gears in Shino’s head turning furiously until the light in his eyes returns to its usual optimistic glimmer.

“You’re right! Thanks, man!” Shino flashes him his signature grin and quickly finishes packing the rest of his belongings before he shoots out of the change room.

“What’s his hurry?” Mikazuki murmurs with quiet amusement in his eyes.

Biscuit only responds with a shrug and a knowing smile.

“Excuse me,” Shino lays one arm across the counter when he finally catches his breath, his eyes darting this way and that inconspicuously as if he’s trying to search for someone but not wanting anyone to notice this very obvious mission. He’s failing pretty hard though, but the library monitor on duty today — a sophomore named Ride Mass whom Shino sometimes sees during the few instances he’s actually visited the library — merely gives him a hard, guarded look as he waits for the hockey player to continue. He swallows noisily and asks, “Uh… is-is, um, Yamagi Gilmerton around?”

“No,” the boy who’s at least a head shorter than Shino’s impressive height replies coldly, crossing his arms as though to signify the end of their conversation.

Shino tries again, hazel eyes pleading with despair, “Do you know if he’s doing okay? I noticed he hasn’t come to school for the last few days, and uh, I just wanted to make sure he’s… um…” The hockey player gradually lets his sentence fade, incomplete, because Ride is outright glaring at him with obvious distaste, and if looks could kill, Shino is sure that he’d be bleeding to his death at this point.

“You’re a junior, aren’t you? Why do you care if a sophomore doesn’t show up to class?” Ride doesn’t even bother looking at him as he shuffles and puts the stack of papers into a binder, slamming it shut with such ferocity that Shino almost jumps back.

He’s absolutely right; Shino realizes this belatedly. What reason does he have for worrying over an almost-stranger?

They haven’t known each other long — hell, he doesn’t think they’ve even exchanged a proper conversation since the first time they met about a month ago — but Shino can’t help but haunt the old, musty library located in one of the most run-down buildings of the campus on days when he doesn’t have practice, just hoping to run into the timid library monitor with hair as gold as the first rays of spring sunlight after a long, harsh winter, eyes as gentle as the wisps of clouds drifting over summer sky, and smiles as rare and beautiful as the blooming of epiphyllum blossoms.

Shino cannot find a valid reason without sounding like an idiot or worst, a creepy stalker, and he looks so utterly defeated that Ride, who finally spares him a glance after tidying the counter to his satisfaction, heaves a sigh and takes pity on the poor boy.

“You’re actually worried about him, aren’t you?” Ride’s tone bears less thorns than before, though his eyes remain cautious as he scrutinizes the hockey player with an aloof gaze.

“Of course!” Shino replies without a second thought, and his exclaim comes out a little louder than expected. He claps a hand over his mouth when Ride sends him another dirty look.

“Yamagi told me about you.”

“H-he did?” Shino is half-excited and half-concerned, but it doesn’t look like Ride will elaborate on that.

“He doesn’t have to say it out loud; it’s obvious he’s quite taken with you. And I’ve told him guys like you — blessed with good looks, popular with the crowd, going along the flow without a damn care in the world — will only break his heart,” Ride has no time or patience to sugarcoat his thoughts when it comes to people he wants to protect.

“Man, you really got an unforgiving mouth, don’t you?” Shino tries not to let Ride’s opening statement get into his head.

“This is my nice mode,” Ride grins threateningly at him, and then in a more lenient manner, he relents, “I’m going over to his place after my shift. If you want to come along, at least don’t show up empty-handed.”

“It’s so wonderful that you boys have come to see Yamagi,” Merribit Stapleton Kassapa leads the two students up the staircase to her stepson’s bedroom, “he’s feeling a bit better today, but he’ll be happy to have some company over.”

“It’s no problem at all, Ms. Merribit,” Ride replies politely while Shino trails behind. Merribit has given him an odd look when they entered the Kassapa residence though she’s been gracious enough to hold her tongue, simply accepting his stuttered introduction as Yamagi’s classmate with a gentle smile, but now that Shino is here, knowing Yamagi is just behind that door, his heart is palpitating hard not unlike before an important game.

Merribit leaves them at the door, thanking them again before she returns downstairs.

Ride knocks on the door and enters when he hears a weak “come in” from inside.

“Hey Yamagi, you’re looking better than yesterday,” Ride greets his friend.

“Thanks,” Yamagi croaks faintly from his bed, his lower back supported by two pillows, eyes blood-shot and bleary from medication-induced drowsiness, and blond locks messier than usual from constantly turning during restless and intermittent sleep over the last few days, “my throat’s still sore though.”

“Well, I hope my gift will cure the rest of it. Look who I brought along with me today.”

With a mischievous grin, Ride steps aside from the doorway to reveal his surprise guest, who stands rooted to the ground after that unexpected introduction.

“Um, hey Yamagi,” Shino finally locates his voice after a poignant delay with Ride nudging his elbow insistently against Shino’s ribs.

“Hello,” Yamagi’s voice turns even softer and more muffled, the lower half of his face hidden by the blanket. His fever has gone since last night, but at the sight of Shino — all wide eyes, broad shoulders, and looking a little sheepish, which should not look so damn adorable on someone who’s almost six feet tall — his cheeks are growing uncomfortably flushed again.

Part of him is pleasantly surprised to see the boy he hasn’t stopped thinking about since their awkward first meeting, but the other half of him is horrified at the thought of his crush seeing him in such a pathetic and unattractive state.

Damn Ride and his over-enthused effort, Yamagi curses half-heartedly in his head.

“W-why are you here?” Yamagi murmurs, and then realizes that he’s probably being rude, but the illness and the medicine have destroyed his brain-to-mouth filter, and Shino doesn’t even seem to notice or mind the slightest.

“I heard you’re sick so I got you some uh, stuff,” Shino lifts up the plastic bag as if to emphasize this fact, “fruit jellies and sports drink and the like. I hope you don’t mind me barging in like this unannounced.”

“It’s fine,” Yamagi replies quickly, pulling his blanket down far enough to reveal his heated cheeks and arid lips, “thanks for coming.”

“You’re welcome,” Shino sets the bag down on Yamagi’s immaculately organized desk, gaze averted. The next few seconds is painfully long and awkwardly tense, and Ride can’t stand it anymore.

“Anyway, I just swing by to bring you notes from today’s classes,” Ride places the aforementioned papers on his friend’s desk, “I actually have to head to my part-time job now, so Shino, I’ll leave my best friend in your care. See you tomorrow, Yamagi.”

“R-Ride, hold on…”

“Don’t screw this up,” Ride mutters fiercely when he stalks past Shino’s frozen figure, and then he’s out of Yamagi’s room, the door closing behind him with a final click.

“I’m sorry about that,” Yamagi starts as soon as he hears the footsteps fading away, gathering his blanket around so he can sit up properly to face Shino, who’s still standing by his desk, “Ride can be a bit… brash to people he doesn’t know.”

“I’m pretty sure he hates my guts,” Shino chuckles, already looking a little less rigid than a short while ago, “but he’s just looking out for you. I can understand that.”

“He’s a good friend,” Yamagi agrees, a gentle smile warming the blue of his eyes, and for a brief second, Shino finds that he’s momentarily distracted by the curve of the other boy’s mouth and the dimples on his cheeks. “Shino?”

“W-would you like a jelly?” Shino really has to stop embarrassing himself in front of his crush like this, so he blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind, which only seems to make him look like a bumbling fool who trips over his own words.

“Yes, please,” Yamagi accepts a plastic spoon and the container of jelly, of which Shino has thoughtfully torn the plastic cover, with a grateful nod and another heart-stopping smile. After eating three days’ worth of tasteless toast and porridge, the orange jelly bursts with a delightful tart-sweetness on his tongue, and he’s unknowingly closed his eyes in bliss.

Entranced by the other boy’s expression, Shino wanders to the side of Yamagi’s bed and kneels down. At this distance, Shino can smell the refreshing citrus scent, close enough that he’s able to count Yamagi’s ashen gold lashes, fine and long and curled upwards like crescent moons. His warmth is intoxicating yet strangely reassuring, and Shino knows that if he reaches out now, the worst-case scenario is that he’ll be rejected on the spot and get slapped across the face, but he’s always been the type to take risks, and he thinks he’s willing to risk everything — including a broken heart — if only he’ll get an answer from him.

Gently, he cradles the side of Yamagi’s face.

The reaction is instantaneous: Yamagi drops his spoon in alarm, which clatters onto the floor, and he’s blinking rapidly at the unfamiliar sensation until he can focus on the other boy’s steady gaze directly before him, Shino’s eyes brimming with an emotion that Yamagi is afraid to put a name on, a feeling that he’s dreamed to be reciprocated.

“S-Shino…?” his voice is unsteady, and his frame is shaking under the blanket.

Just to be safe, Shino eases the half-finished jelly out of Yamagi’s hand and places it on the ground before facing Yamagi once more.

“Is it true?” he asks.

“What?” Yamagi’s heart rate spikes up; it’s almost too painful to take another breath but he doesn’t want it to ever stop, doesn’t want Shino to ever stop touching his cheek as if he’s the most delicate and precious treasure.

“Earlier today, Ride mentioned that…”

“Oh my god, what did he say?” Yamagi interrupts him before he can continue, and then words are crashing down like a waterfall as Yamagi officially descends into his panic mode, “Actually, whatever he’s said, please just… forget about it, okay? He’s such a blabber mouth and I should’ve never told him that. That was a terrible mistake, why did I do that?”

“So, it’s true then — you do like me?” Shino’s cheeks heat up slightly when he utters those words, but regret is the last thing on his mind.

Yamagi bites his lower lip hard enough to turn the skin there even redder, eyes conflicted and his heart even more so. In the end, he can’t lie to himself, and it’s impossible to deny Shino when he’s looking at him with such earnestness, like he’s looking forward to yet also afraid of Yamagi’s answer.

He nods once.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way though,” Yamagi immediately says, lowering his gaze to stare at his fidgeting hands, “I’d never expect—”

“Who said anything about not feeling the same way?”

Shino’s question makes Yamagi look up at him in wonder, stunned like he can’t believe what he’s just heard, and the hockey player laughs with something akin to relief but mostly with elation, the sound bubbling from the depth of his chest, golden and comforting and kind.

“I like you, too, Yamagi Gilmerton,” Shino says, every syllable distinct with no way of his intention being misinterpreted, and his eyes glimmer with hope when he asks, “Will you go out with me?”

Another pause on Yamagi’s part, his mouth slightly parted in bewilderment, and then to Shino’s amusement, the younger boy mutters, “Shit. Is my fever so high that I’m starting to have hallucinations?”

With an affectionate chuckle and painstaking tenderness to his movement, Shino sweeps Yamagi’s chaotic forelocks to the side of his face and leans down to place a chaste kiss against his forehead. Shino’s lips are cool and dry against the other boy’s heated skin, and even as Shino leans back to look at him with a small, hesitant smile, Yamagi can feel the lingering sensation where his lips has touched, a stream of sunlight that’s making his blood sing and his heart dance with indescribable happiness.

“Has your hallucination ever felt this real?”

“No,” Yamagi admits, “though I’ve had some frighteningly realistic dreams recently.” He clamps his mouth shut when he realizes too late that once again he’s spoken too much, but Shino only ruffles his hair and laughs lightly, the sound soaked with light of dawn.

“About me?” he asks, grinning.

Yamagi ducks his head in embarrassment, his face and neck somehow growing even hotter, the shade of rose-pink spreading lovingly across his pale skin that disappears enticingly beneath the rumpled fabric of his t-shirt.

“Yeah,” he concedes, almost inaudible.

The blanket feels too constricting — his clothes, too — like he’s asphyxiated by Shino’s mere proximity, his fingers still combing through his hair, and it’s at once hypnotic and exhilarating. He wants more but he’s suddenly too exhausted to even speak, his mind pleasantly warm and blank and he wishes this moment, may it be a fever-induced dream or a self-conceived reverie, will last awhile longer yet.

Yamagi feels a wave of drowsiness sweeps over him, his eyelids heavy with the yearning to rest.

“You should lie down; you look really flushed,” Shino feels Yamagi’s forehead with the back of his hand, frowning in concern; he helps Yamagi recline upon his bed in a more comfortable position despite the younger boy’s protest. “Should I go get Ms. Merribit?”

“I’m fine,” Yamagi reassures him, voice a little slurred and his eyes already closed, when Shino has arranged the blanket cozily around him.

“All right, I’ll let you rest then, okay? I’ll see you at school,” Shino is about to stand up, but Yamagi, as drained as he is, somehow still manages to catch his wrist with his slender fingers. “Yamagi?”

“Will you stay until I fall asleep?” His eyelashes flutter like butterfly wings when he breathes out.

If this is only a dream, at least let him stay just a bit longer, Yamagi thinks to himself. He feels Shino’s strong, calloused fingers lacing loosely with his, and his heart calms as the storm of turmoil and doubt that has lasted for almost a month dies with the touch of their hands, the first inkling of thread connecting their hearts.

“Of course.”

It’s only after Shino is already on the train when he remembers that Yamagi hasn’t quite respond to his earlier request, but he will ask him again when they see each other at school. Time is on their side after all.

---

Extras

Tekkadan Team Positions:

- Orga (senior): Captain; Defense

- Mikazuki (junior): Vice-captain; Forward centre

- Biscuit (senior): Goaltender

- Akihiro (senior): Forward left winger

- Shino (junior): Forward right winger

- Eugene (junior): Defense

Library Monitors:

- Yamagi (sophomore): Robotics club

- Takaki (sophomore): Literature club

- Ride (sophomore): Visual arts club

#gundam: iron blooded orphans #gundam ibo #g tekketsu #shinoyama #norba shino #yamagi gilmerton #norba/yamagi #bowie's crappy writing

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bulletproof-fantasies · 8 years ago

Text

Finding You: Chapter Thirty-Two

Pairing: Min Yoongi/ OC

Genre: Soulmate AU!

Summary: Sometimes, a tag is enough.

Warnings: Mentions of depression, past suicide attempts, and cheating.

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Thirty-Two:

The events of the last few days had speed by faster than he knew how to manage them. Yoongi was excited, unsure and anxious to the point that he constantly felt nauseous. His emotions were threatening to spill over and impact everything, but he managed to keep moving forwards despite it.

Alex would be in front of him in less than four hours and he swore to himself that this would be the last time he ever lied to her. He wasn’t stupid, he knew this plan of his would stress her out, but he just wasn’t sure how else he could do this. He very well couldn’t be sitting next to her watching his own concert.

As Yoongi looked around he saw everyone doing the final prep to go on stage. He could hear how loud the crowd was and he knew exactly where she would be. He would know exactly where to look for her if he wanted to, but wouldn’t do any use. He couldn’t see shit when he was on stage.

His phone pinged as he was getting his mic tested one last time and he looked down. His stomach churned as he read her text because he could tell how much this was making her uncomfortable. Yoongi bit his lip and started to type fast, knowing he had to reply or else she might leave and then all of this would be for nothing.

“Yoongi, you can talk to her another time. We’re about to go on stage,” Namjoon told him, only slightly annoyed to the point where the beginnings of it started to show.

“I really can’t, she’s out there and I don’t want her to leave because I technically stood her up,” Yoongi said hastily, offering no other explanation as he told Alex work had caught him up later than he expected.

“Wait, she’s in the audience?” Namjoon asked as he came to read over Yoongi’s shoulder. When taking in the information from the texts and the details Yoongi just mentioned, it wouldn’t be hard for anyone to figure out what was going on, but especially for him. “Yoongi is she sitting out there thinking you’re going to show up?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi replied as he hit send and then took a deep shaky breath.

“You realise she thinks she has been stood up,” Namjoon said, his tone indicating how shocked he was. “You’re putting her through a lot of anxiety just to bring her backstage.”

“I know but this was the only way I could think to do it,” Yoongi said with a frown. “I couldn’t just risk going to her place and I certainly couldn’t bring her to the dorm. This was the only safe way to meet her.”

Namjoon frowned, looking towards the area he knew the crowd was. “On some level I know you’re right, but this is fucked up. Really fucked up.”

Yoongi looked at the ground, his stomach knotting. He had felt anxious and tense this entire time, but now it was worse. Now he worried she would truly be angry at him for this. “I didn’t know another way.”

“I know…” Namjoon said as he looked at the messages Yoongi sent again. He held his breath for a moment and then looked back at his friend. He pointed to the texts and then began to speak again. “Though I suppose if she really loves you, as least who she thinks you are, she might be willing to hear you out. And if she is as kind as you say, then she might forgive you.”

“I hope so,” Yoongi said as he took a deep breath.

Before he could think anymore, his manager took his phone and told them all to get in their places. He joined the others with Namjoon and ignored how sick he felt as he waited for them to be lifted onto the stage from under it. As he rose up, he closed his eyes for a moment and took another deep breath, preparing himself and when he saw the crowd and how loud they were he forced himself to get in the headspace that he reserved for preforming.

As he looked towards where he knew she was sitting, all he saw was a blur of light sticks. However, he liked to think that the part of it towards the end of the row was Alex and it gave him some much needed comfort to perform. She was still there and hopefully, she wouldn’t leave.

…

Yoongi was trying to absorb some of the sweat from his body with a small towel when one of the managers came up to him. He suddenly felt really nervous because he had asked him to bring Alex to the room. Yoongi himself had initialed the back of her ticket so he’d know that she was the right one to escort. However, he was terrified that maybe his manager was coming to tell him that Alex had refused and gone home.

“She’s waiting, like you asked,” he told him quietly. Before Yoongi could move, he touched his arm. “In case this goes badly, we have some precautions in place. She won’t leave here until she signs a contract outlining her silence.”

“That seems extreme,” Yoongi said with a frown. “She won’t tell anyone. It’s unnecessary.”

“Unfortunately, we don’t know that and we can’t afford a scandal. You’re lucky that this wasn’t stopped. Just go meet her, if it goes wrong we will ensure her silence and then everyone will move on,” his manager told him firmly.

“Alright,” Yoongi said as he nodded his head. He got the sense his manager was slightly annoyed with him but he pushed it away and finished drying himself off with the towel. “Do you think I should change first?”

“Whatever you need to do but at this point, you’re keeping her waiting,” his manager replied as he sat down.

He got the hint. He needed to move. But Yoongi also knew he smelled bad so he did change, quickly, into something comfortable and simple; sweats and a t shirt. Once changed, he made his way to the room she was in and looked at the door handle for a while before he could even manage to make himself move an inch to open the door. Once he finally got his ass in gear, he opened the door and stepped inside.

Alex somehow looked even more like Alex in person. Which was a stupid thought on his part, but it was true. Maybe it was the fact that her eyes were wide with shock, but they were incredibly blue in person, with little washes of green throughout. Her skin was milky pale and her hair was rich chestnut brown, tied up in a high bun on the top of her head. Because her hair was done that way, he could see her piercing, the three little dots of blue along the top arch of her ear. In person, her nose still had that oddness to it that he couldn’t describe and she wasn’t skinny but her proportions were just right to be her.

He couldn’t imagine her looking any different. This was Alex and she was beautiful to him. Yoongi was pretty sure his heart had never worked harder than it was right now, a steady thumping in his chest that made him wonder about cardiac arrest.

“H-Holy shit.”

Of course that was the first thing he’d hear from her lips in person. It was appropriate but he couldn’t help but smile softly. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at her for a moment longer before finding his voice. “H-”

“Oh my god, I am so sorry to interrupt you,” Alex said quickly; she looked panicked, her eyes wide and her lips shaped into a frown as her hands shook a little in her lap, “but I swear I didn’t sneak in here. I was told to wait here for my friend. I didn’t know you’d come here, I’m not a sasaeng, I promise.”

A part of Yoongi felt a bit…sad that she didn’t piece together that he was her friend. But honestly, he couldn’t pretend that it didn’t make sense. There was no way any sane person would jump to the conclusion that ‘Min Yoongi walked into the room that I was waiting for August Kim in, therefore they are the same person.’

“No, I know that isn’t why you’re here,” he told her, mustering his best English. When he typed, it was better, he knew that for sure. When he spoke his pronunciation needed work. “Alex…I-”

“Holy shit, Min Yoongi knows my name…”

He couldn’t help it, he had to laugh at that. So he did, softly, and then he looked around for a way to make this more comfortable. He took another chair from the side and sat down in front of her, clearing his throat.

“I’m sorry I keep interrupting you, I’m just really overwhelmed and confused,” Alex swallowed hard and then reached up to grab her necklace so she could rub her thumb over the surface of the charm, a silver bird. “Do you know August?”

Yoongi pressed his lips together. There was no way that this would be easy to say to her and for the first time he was having second thoughts. He was literally about to shatter their entire relationship and he wasn’t ready to watch her walk out of his life now that she had just got there. He tried to smile, but he knew it looked half-hearted, and he brought his hand to the back of his neck again.

“Alex, over the past eight months or so we’ve been talking online. We met on Tumblr,” Yoongi told her as he looked up at her again.

Alex was so still and silent that he worried that maybe she didn’t believe him. Or maybe she was waiting for cameras to pop out or something. He could tell by the way she held herself that she was just waiting for the other foot to fall.

“Oh…” She bit her lip and kept touching her necklace. She was painfully quiet and Yoongi was truly afraid that he would have to rely on a contractual obligation for her silence. Alex suddenly looked up at him, confusion showing clear on her features. “But you told me your name was Augu-…oh.”

Yoongi smiled though it was a bit humourless. Truthfully, he was so nervous he had to hold himself back from getting sick. This was going very wrong, very fast. He expected excitement, joy, crying, anything. But she was just so painfully silent.

“Au-…Yoongi…I should go,” she said quietly as she stood up, gathering her things.

“Wait, Alex, please,” he said as he stood up too. He was in such a rush for this not to come to the worst end possible that he ended up speaking to her in Korean without meaning to. “Please don’t go.”

Alex stood frozen for a moment and then slowly placed her bag on the chair. She crossed her arms over her torso and then paced a little, still rubbing her necklace with one hand. “Yoongi, this won’t ever work. We can’t be friends…we…we can’t be more than friends.”

Yoongi sighed and his shoulders slumped a little bit. “Alex, I know it will be tough but-”

“No, if I am staying, I am going to speak right now.” Yoongi straight up swallowed hard because suddenly, she was quivering and squeezing her hands into fists. Alex was angry. “How could you go online and just start talking to a fan that has a clear obsession with you? Do you realise how dangerous that is for your safety? You’re really fucking lucky that I am not crazy and actually have my head screwed on right. You…if you had done this and someone else but me was in this room right now, something really bad could have happened to you. It was so fucking reckless.”

Of all the things he expected her to say, it wasn’t this. She had technically be swindled by him and led on for months and yet she was worried about him and his safety. He had absolutely no doubt in his mind, he didn’t want whatever he shared with her to disappear now. “I know…but I don’t just do that all the time. You were the first person I ever started talking to. You were the first blog I ever looked at…and…I just wanted to talk to you.”

“So this isn’t just something you do for fun?” Alex asked frown a frown, looking unsure of herself.

Yoongi wanted to allow himself to feel hurt but he couldn’t because she had every right to feel like she did. It only made sense that after being told their relationship was based on a huge lie that she would second guess other things too. But he had to get her to a place where she understood that everything he ever said to her about how he felt was genuine.

Yoongi quickly shook his head as he looked at her pacing form. “No, it’s not like that. I ended up seeing your blog by accident.”

Alex sighed and then sat down in front of him again, biting her lip. He could tell by just the look on her face that she was like a skittish animal trapped in an uncomfortable situation. Anything could set her off and she’d bolt for good. She continued to rub her necklace and take deep breaths.

“Alex, everything I’ve ever told you that wasn’t related to personal details I couldn’t tell you like my name or where I work…I swear I didn’t lie to you,” he told her gently as he reached out for her and gently placed his hand on her knee for just a moment to try and reassure her. “At first I never expected this to develop this way and I couldn’t tell you who I was online.”

Alex nodded a couple of times and then kept breathing deeply. Yoongi hoped this was a good sign, that it meant that she was calming down a little bit. Maybe, just maybe, she’d come around.

“It’s still really wrong,” Alex told him with a frown. “It feels like you targeted me, a fan of yours…it feels like there should be cameras around me or something, like this is some kind of stunt for a variety show.”

Well, that stung. But once again, he pushed it down because he recognised he had no right to feel like he was a victim in this. Yoongi knew that he just had to let Alex get her feelings out and then maybe after that they could see if what was there remained.

“I didn’t start this with some kind of sadistic intention,” Yoongi told her as he looked into her eyes. His were pleading and hopeful, giving her puppy-eyes without intending too. “I knew I should have stopped talking to you. I told myself it over and over again.”

“Then why didn’t you?” Alex asked him softly, pouting a little bit like she didn’t quite understand.

Yoongi’s expressed softened. “Because I fell in love with you.”

Alex shook her head and then let out a shuddery breath. “That…that can’t be true. I mean, I’m me and you’re…well you’re you. You couldn’t be in love with someone like me.” She paused and rubbed her forehead, closing her eyes. “You couldn’t love someone like me when you have other people who are stunningly beautiful around you all the time.”

“You said you’re a fan but don’t you read?” Yoongi asked her as he reached out and took her hands. He looked deeply into her eyes. “I don’t give a shit what you look like. You’re you and it’s all I want.”

Alex shivered and watched him and, at this point, she just looked confused. It was as if the concept wasn’t possible to her. He wanted to erase that insecurity from her but he didn’t know how.

She parted her lips and spoke softly, hanging her head. “Well, you must be pretty disappointed then.”

Yoongi wanted to recoil and he shook his head. He reached forwards and gently touched the side of her face. “Alex you could literally be wearing a garbage bag and I wouldn’t care because you’re you.”

“Are you kidding? My clothes are great,” she laughed a bit as she took her free hand and wiped at the tears forming. “It’s what I look like.”

“I don’t care about that,” he reinforced.

“I’m fat,” she said as she laughed again. “This is so fucking stupid.”

“I don’t care,” Yoongi told her again firmly. “I literally couldn’t give a single fuck about how much weight is on your body. I love the person living in it.”

“Yoongi, my nose is ugly,” she said as the tears really began to fall, desperately trying to find something to rebuff him with.

“So is mine,” he said as he shrugged, “so what? Do you think I love you because of your nose?”

“Stop saying that!” she said as if he was saying something out loud that he shouldn’t be saying. She wiped at her eyes again, her breathing becoming a little shakier. “How can you act like this is okay?”

“Because it is,” he said with a small laugh. “Because there is nothing wrong with you. Because we’ll figure this out and everything will be okay. I could list a hundred reasons why this is okay.”

“Yoongi I don’t think we’re right for each other,” Alex told him rather pathetically. Yoongi could tell she was having some issues translating everything into Korean and then saying it, but she was trying her best and he could understand her. “I mean, I’m Canadian and you’re from South Korea.”

“You’re observant,” he told her with a small teasing smile, trying to lighten the mood with humour.

Alex narrowed her eyes a little in response. “This is not the time to tease me. There is so much to worry about here. What if this is temporary? Like a rush or a thrill th-”

“Alex, please shut up,” Yoongi told her softly as brushed some of her bangs away from her eyes. “I love you.”

“But-”

“And I don’t toss that word around lightly,” he finished as he squeezed her hand that he was holding and laced his fingers with hers. “I like what’s inside you.”

Now she tried to attempt some humour as she rubbed at her eyes and laughed through a choked-up sob. “That sounded kind of messed up when I translated it into English.”

He stopped to think about it and then grinned, raising his brow at her. “I’m sure I’ll like that too.”

Alex’s eyes went wide and a blush crept up from her neck onto her cheeks. “Y-Yoongi, that was a bit forwards.”

“Seeing the blush made it totally worth it,” he told her, continuing to try and lighten the mood with some gentle teasing. “God, you’re beautiful to me…how don’t you see it?”

“I…” Alex looked truly at a loss for words, her lips parted and her brows knitted together. “Because I don’t…?”

“One day maybe you will,” he told her as he took both of her hands again. “Are…are we okay?”

“I…I don’t know, this is a lot to take in,” Alex told him as she held her breath a little bit. “What…what does this mean? Where do we go from here?”

Yoongi smiled softly and squeezed her hands a little, starting to let that hopefulness take over. She was asking questions now, this was good. It meant she was opening her mind to the possibility.

“We explore this a bit,” he told her with a small smile on his lips. “We spend time with each other and see if it works in person. Nothing is really going to change except that we’re going to see each other in person and that we will have to go to extreme precautions to never be caught doing so.”

“Oh right, scandals,” Alex said as she shook her head a little. “This is a lot to swallow…I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Yoongi told her with a gentle smile. “Do you think you might be okay with going forwards?” He felt truly nervous now for some reason. Asking someone on a date shouldn’t be hard. Now he was the one who felt anxious and terrified. “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

Alex shyly nodded and then smiled just a little bit, like she was allowing herself to experience a bit of hope. Just like he did. “Yeah…I think I’d like that.”

#yoongi #yoongi fic #suga #suga fic #sugaslutsociety

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not-poignant · 5 months ago

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Hello! I feel like it's a strange ask but please is it possible for you or your readers to rec me long fics with m/m but with main focus being fantasy plot where I can scroll through any sex stuff if there's any? I am not a hater or smutpolice or something but life was awfully emotional lately and when I am aroused in this state it brings me to destructive behavior towards myself, but I still want to read! And already reread FFS and tIP and can't anything else X( Please and thank you!

Hi anon,

Unfortunately I'd never rec m/m stories where the sex matters so little you can just skip past it (that's kind of against the point for me, and those stories tend to get rated 1-2 stars from me and I forget what they are, lol). And I have read stories where the sex isn't the focus (i.e. there is no sex) but I can't recall those stories since they're not what I look to reread when I'm looking for a comfort read unfortunately.

You might want to check out The Nascent Diplomat which has no sex scenes between the main characters, and the sexual scenes between Augus and Radula Enris can be skipped. It's long and m/m and the focus is fantasy and worldbuilding, and growing non-sexual closeness.

But mostly I'm posting this so others can make recommendations! I know there's stuff out there! I suspect I have fics like this in my bookmarks, but I have over 1000 bookmarks so they're hard to find.

ETA: The anon followed up to say they also can't handle anything with themes around alone-sickness (so presumably no stories that focus on being lonely either, which might make this a lot more difficult to have recs for!)

#asks and answers #inadvertent recs #i feel like jackbird recommended a few things in the discord a while back #but i know those stories had sex in them #maybe look into To Regret Violets by clusium_kiss on AO3 #it has rape in it (not between the main characters) but that can be skipped #and is otherwise an asexual queerplatonic m/m romance #sort of #it's a hard one to explain #administrator gwyn wants this in the queue

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not-poignant · 1 year ago

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There's been lots of Temsen talk around here, so I thought I'd drop by and tell you how grateful I am for TND and Temsen in particular. (TW scars) I have scarring on both sides of my torso. It's not raised or painful, but it's very obviously there because of the colour difference with the rest of my skin. It looks like spots and mottles. In TND, you wrote about an old sickness that ended up causing some Vench's skin to have spots and mottles (maybe some of them were just born like that? Im unsure) Until it was revealed that that's how the spots and mottles came to be, I had envisioned the Vench as these beautiful creatures, you know? And after the backstory, I still did. It made me realise that someone else may find my spots beautiful too (although, I realise I'm not an underground skin touch wowie creature, so it's different, lol). What I'm trying to say is that that part of TND but also just TND as a whole has helped me work through and accept so many parts of myself. Once it's finished, may I print it? To keep it on my bookshelf :). If I were a better artist, I'd draw something for you from TND, and if I were a better writer, I'd write. I'm really trying to convey how much TND means to me, and I don't think I can properly. I wish I could make you a 7 course meal, because I am a decent cook! If I didn't love you before (I did), I certainly do now, for having created this wonderful story and blessing us with it. I hope you continue to do things you enjoy and take breaks and eat good food!! Love <3

Hi anon! Tbh a 7 course meal sounds nice, I've only eaten mandarins today, because I've been in too much pain/fatigue to manage like...meals. So I'm always very amazed / in awe when other people have the energy to make things like sandwiches.

In TND, you wrote about an old sickness that ended up causing some Vench's skin to have spots and mottles (maybe some of them were just born like that? Im unsure) Until it was revealed that that's how the spots and mottles came to be, I had envisioned the Vench as these beautiful creatures, you know?

Tbh, anon, all of the mottles except for very few which look very specific (and have only been described once), are all not scars, but very beautiful, shining parts of the vench's bodies. I mean, Augus also perceives the scars from the rotting sickness that Wirth explains as beautiful (it is a white, shining scar that's very noticeable), but every other time vench mottles are mentioned, they're just a part of the vench's normal skin, in the same way that frogs also have very pretty blotches/mixed colourations. Mottles are clan specific (scars aren't), in terms of their colours (in fact hair, eye, and mottle colour are all clan specific in The Nascent Diplomat).

So envisioning vench as beautiful creatures who have naturally occurring mottles (that aren't scars - the scars only affected one generation of vench and they are the vast minority, the only one we've met so far is Wirth) is what was intended re: the story.

That being said, I really love your interpretation of things as well. I've written stories in the past where characters have quite serious scars, and their love interest has always seen them as beautiful or as neutral, as having merit or as signifying how strong the person with the scars was, or generally as being significant in some way. Stories like Into Shadows We Fall, The Golden Age that Never Was, The Beast that Chose Its Own Bridle, Stuck on the Puzzle, even moments in The Spoils of the Spoiled, Falling Falling Stars, and it will be present in stories like Mallory & Mount as well. It's definitely something I've spent time on as a concept, even if it's not something I did for more than about five seconds in The Nascent Diplomat!

In that sense, I definitely think you will meet someone who either finds your scars beautiful, or alternatively, just a neutral, normal part of you. I have over 3 metres of surgical scars on my body, anon, and that doesn't include the scars I have for other reasons (stretch marks for example). Some of those scars are in very obvious places, some aren't, but there's very few parts of my body you can look at without seeing at least some.

Meanwhile my partners both have freckles absolutely everywhere (though they're fading now, as they get older), and I think that's amazing and really cool, and I love those freckles, and I don't understand how anyone could mock someone for it, because that just doesn't compute to me.

No body is perfect, and any body that is, will not be perfect for long, we all have an expiry date, we all attain scars and wrinkles and blotches and freckles and warts and hormonal discolourations (I have two dark patches on my cheeks from being on the combined Pill for such a long time - my Mum always covered hers with foundation, I don't cover mine at all, it doesn't seem like there's much of a point when I have a 20cm scar on my neck anyway.

Learning to at least be neutral with our bodies, is an admirable and I would say even necessary goal. Learning to be positive or loving our bodies is amazing for the folks who can get there!

Once it's finished, may I print it? To keep it on my bookshelf :).

Of course!!!

I apologise for not having put down the kind of profound meaning that you picked up from the story, but I still really support and love that interpretation, especially since I've written versions of it across so many narratives in the past, and will continue to in the future. Your interpretation makes the narrative a lot more powerful, and that you turned it into something that you could use to help transform your feelings towards yourself and your scars and your body is an absolute credit to you. I think you're amazing :) <333

#asks and answers #long post #the nascent diplomat #fae tales worldbuilding #pia on worldbuilding #the scars are intended to be beautiful #augus goes out of his way to ask if it's appropriate to call them comely #because he finds them very pretty #(but it's good to ask because some people don't like their scars being commented on in this way)#but anyway your interpretation is top tier anon #i really appreciate you sharing it with me #administrator gwyn wants this in the queue

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not-poignant · 3 years ago

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Hey Pia, just wanted to send you some love because I've been sick and Augus has been living in my head helping me keep myself together mentally. Please tell him thank you on my behalf :P I pretend he's ordering me to give myself lots of rest and stay hydrated.

This is actually really lovely and sweet. I love the idea of a little internal caretaker Augus who is making sure that you take care of yourself. <3

(Versus me, who, when I'm in a MRI machine and about to have a panic attack, am like 'Gwyn would tell me to get the fuck over it' dlsakjfdlskajfdas)

#asks and answers #fae tales #augus each uisge #fae tales love #i'm sorry to hear you've been sick anon #and i hope caretaker augus #is still reminding you to stay hydrated #and get some rest #that's good advice at nearly any time #administrator Gwyn wants this in the queue

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not-poignant · 3 years ago

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My heart hurts for Augus. Not like "aw, tired-wine-aunt-baby-waterhorse feels sick" but more like "DEAR LORD HE'S LITERALLY ROTTING FROM THE INSIDE LIKE A DECAYING WATERHORSE CORPSE- SOMEBODY DO SOMETHING FOR CHRIST'S SAKE". And it pains me. Very much. I don't think we've ever seen him in such a bad state before..or am I wrong? Maybe I am. IDK. (when he was imprisoned in Game-Theory, and even when he was tortured by the nightingale....but STILL it didn't seem as bad as THIS.)

We've never seen him this ill before!

We've definitely seen him with his mane dry, but not with the infection/rotting aspect from the inside. And when he was released from the Nightingale, he was well enough to make it back home and to also eventually hunt, though he was still very sick, he was conscious.

I wanted to wait until Mosk came up with a potential solution to finally show basically what Gwyn was seeing every night.

I feel so bad for Gwyn, who just...has really been enduring that in silence. Sleeping alone by Augus' side. Sitting up there in that room. Likely sponge-bathing Augus and knowing exactly how sick he is. And barely telling anyone, and only when prompted or someone pushes him to talk.

I think it's going to take a long time for Gwyn to recover from what he's experienced re: the decline in Augus' health, especially now they're in Dharnam.

#asks and answers #the ice plague #fae tales verse #fae tales #gwyn ap nudd #augus each uisge #mosk manytrees #man gwyn's been going through it #like augus isn't aware enough to even know how bad things are #but gwyn...#man he has not been doing great

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not-poignant · 3 years ago

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Hi Pia!

I’m rereading Game Theory atm (and wow, did not expect ALL these feels to grab me so thoroughly a second time but oh boy❤️❤️my boys❤️❤️), and I’m at the chapter after Tigbalan: Trade. Augus says something like “what do you think we’ve been doing these past two months”, and that made me wonder - what was it that made things change for augus’s part in their relationship? Like, what made him first think about it as a relationship.

If you’re sick of answering this question (I’m sure someone’s asked it before, but I couldn’t find it) just ignore it!

Regardless, best wishes to you and your day!💚

For Augus, the relationship changed pretty significantly in the transition between chapters 'Aftercare' and through 'Rollercoaster.' If he wasn't interested in Gwyn at that point, during Rollercoaster, breaking him with sounds would have actually been a super effective strategy to get Gwyn to do whatever he wanted. I think around that point, he stopped thinking of Gwyn as someone to manipulate, and instead started thinking of him as both a way to pass the time, but also as someone he was responsible for. Not quite a romantic relationship, but not anything he'd ever had before, either.

For Augus, the firm turning point from 'we are in a romantic relationship and I'm taking care of him because I might as well pass the time somehow in this hellhole' turns into love when he discovers Gwyn's truth, er, in the chapter Truth.

Augus basically commits to Gwyn much sooner and much more completely than Gwyn ever realises. And it's bewildering to Augus that Gwyn sort of doesn't seem to know that, because Augus also knows that Gwyn loves him much sooner than Gwyn realises. So he makes the mistaken assumption that they're just in a committed relationship.

Gwyn is actually the real hold out. Gwyn can fall in love with someone before he has a committed relationship with them, lol. Whereas Augus - due to his role as a caretaking dominant - could have a committed relationship with someone before it evolved into love. But even so, Augus was fully aware of what was going on in himself emotionally, and open to himself about it (if not completely laconically derisive and self-mocking about it) way earlier than Gwyn.

I'm sure I've answered this question before, but god, I think it was years ago! I don't get many Game Theory questions these days, and it was nice to actually go back and think about how it all unfolded. :D

#asks and answers #fae tales verse #game theory #fae tales #gwyn ap nudd #augus each uisge #gwyn doesn't have much emotional intelligence though lol #so he's operating in a completely different inner landscape to augus #and he just assumes that everything augus is doing #is both temporary and manipulative #when augus is literally like 'i would not do like 95% of the things i've done for you if i was playing you idiot'#*pets them both*

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not-poignant · 3 years ago

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not a flower ask (sorry), and extra apologies if this has been already asked before, but what got you writing in the first place?

im absolutely fascinated by your works. FFS has been one of my favorite things in the world since i discovered it. i feel like im learning so much about myself and other people just by reading it. i honestly aspire to write like you and aquire interest, too.

I've always been interested in writing, but I went through phases with it.

Like I started writing pretty serious (I thought) fantasy and science fiction when I was 8 or 9 years old. And I remember printing it out on an archaic computer when I was around 11 years old (and then my mother threw it all out, so I don't have most of it). But I remember even then I was writing a lot, doing worldbuilding, doing research, etc.

And then I stopped writing for a while, and picked it up again towards the end of highschool mostly as a way to just give my overactive (extremely overactive) brain something to do. I didn't want to be a writer at that point, I wanted to be an artist (I was doing a lot of that too), or a psychologist, or an ornithologist, actually just about anything other than a writer, lmao.

At university, I started picking up creative writing electives because I thought they'd be easy passes, and because I was doing (among other things) a major in scriptwriting, credits for creative writing counted as credits for scriptwriting in our university system. I actually ended up picking up so many creative writing units that I have an unacknowledged Major in Creative Writing as well, and was invited to do Honours in the Creative Writing faculty despite never officially being in that faculty lmao. So I started writing again. During this time, I mostly wrote Very Serious (sigh) poetry, and Very Serious (sigh) short stories. This was the period of time where I won the most awards, but it was also the period of time that I enjoyed writing least.

I think during this time - I only vaguely remember this - I also wrote some very bad OC/Snape fanfiction that no one will ever ever find because it's under another username lmao. I did enjoy that, but there's nothing like an old outdated university writing faculty to delegitimise fanfiction for you.

After that I stopped writing completely, because the joy in it was gone. Honestly, I didn't know if I'd ever write again?

And then...

I spent about 6-7 years working as a professional artist actually. I was too sick to work a standard full-time job (and sadly too sick to stay on at university and do all the postgrad stuff I wanted to do), and that was kind of 'all that was left' and just... I remember starting to pick up writing on the side very tentatively. I wrote some side stories for small fandoms. Ironically, every story I wrote for fandom back then was always short, usually 1-3k max. People now probably wouldn't believe it, given how long everything I write now is. But yeah most of the stuff I used to write was very short. I wrote for fandoms like NCIS, Profiler and Bones.

(I'm sorry anon I'm sure you didn't sign on for my life story in writing)

And then I wrote a story called Every Day Awake which was queer as fuck, and was kind of a breakthrough narrative for me. It was original, and I still want to clean it up and publish it actually. And after that I wrote a Misfits fic and a Mysterious Skin fic and abandoned writing again for a while because of mental and physical illness stuff.

Eventually I had to quit the art. In that limbo, depressed and lost, I started writing From the Darkness We Rise on a complete limb. It was meant to be 'something to make me feel something enjoyable again but I'll probably delete it after a few chapters.' But readers asked me to make a Tumblr to talk about updates and answer asks, so I did that. And then readers talked to me about Gwyn and Augus, so I thought about it. And then readers asked me to start a Patreon for Gwyn and Augus, (because I have always financially struggled), so I did that. And all the while I thought 'this is wild, but surely this can't last.'

And here I am, like 8 years later, and I find I quite like it. :)

(Imho, there are many many better writers out there that you could aspire to write like, read as widely and across as many genres as you can, there are marvels out there in the written world, absolute marvels).

#asks and answers #pia on writing #pia on fanfiction #one day i'm going to publish every day awake #and idk if anyone will like it #but i still love that book #for what it is #actually there's an excerpt on patreon #from 2014 lol #writing has always been a companion #the kind you walk away from and when you come back #it hugs you even tighter than before #administrator Gwyn wants this in the queue #administrator Gwyn raises an eyebrow and says I should probably use the queue more often

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not-poignant · 3 years ago

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Hello Pia, do you listen to music when you write or do you need silence? Do you get struck by inspiration ever when you are doing things and need to take down notes like ohhh maybe THAT should happen etc. How do you decide on character names?

do you listen to music when you write or do you need silence?

Yes! Okay so, with my ADHD, my visual concentration is for shit. Like absolutely in the toilet. So I use auditory things to help me concentrate, which means I just about, 99,9999999% of the time need music to write fiction. Like, not just like it, but need it. That's why I have like over 50 story and character playlists on Spotify (and I share them mostly because I think others might like them, but make no mistake, I primarily made all those playlists so I could write in the first place).

(I also have soundtracks for cooking and cleaning, because I can't really do either properly otherwise).

The one exception? Editing. And then I listen to noise generators, or I use my fidget dice and click on a clicker incessantly.

Do you get struck by inspiration ever when you are doing things and need to take down notes like ohhh maybe THAT should happen etc.

All the time, especially in cars, which is not great because I get motion sickness if I read. So I have a lot of short notes on my phone. Some include:

Mallory & Mount: Bloodwood

Efnisien kneeling for Arden (this was the entire scene with the gazebo, I got the idea on a drive and writing those four words brought back the scene so I could write it)

'I think I hit a ten at Arden's' (this was the scene where Efnisien basically realises retrospectively how badly he kind of broke down at Arden's, for a chapter I wrote ages ago)

The other time this happens is if I'm walking, but then I can actually write longer notes. Since I'm often listening to character and story playlists as I'm walking, I usually do that to kind of go into a meditative state and just 'watch' the story. Often I'll tweak things as I'm watching (I see the story kind of as a movie), and then 'replay scenes.' Like 'what would happen if they said that / what would happen if I did that / what would happen now' and basically keep playing through until I find the one that both evokes the best emotional response and seems to work really well for the plot. It's because of this process that I realised I needed to bring Davix into The Ice Plague as a ghost, because initially he was really just supposed to be and stay dead, lmao.

How do you decide on character names?

I...feel like it would be a lot more professional if I told you that I spend a lot of time on the symbolism and spend ages thinking about them but the fact of the matter is I usually come up with them in about 5-10 seconds and I get mad if it takes longer. Arden is just 'ardent without the T' because I think he loves ardently. (Yes, Augus is also 'august without the T' because I think Augus has an august personality).

The exception is culturally specific names, where I did a lot of research on Damilola Adayemi's name, for example, to make sure that it was Yoruban. Side characters ironically often get more research than the main characters do. Likewise, I know that in Bali sometimes names are given according to gender and birth order, so I had to look those up for Kadek.

The vench's names I made up though, with zero research on any of it, lmao. I just went by 'I like the sound.' It's kind of dismal how much I a) love making up names and b) put very little thought into it about 99% of the time. Like, I think there is thought behind it, but I've read like...a lot of 'rare word dictionaries' and kind of read a lot of non-fiction and fiction over the years so I end up just...with a collection of nice sounding words and sounds in my head that make good names. Did I spend long thinking of Mallory's name? No. Lewis'? No. *cries* Other authors try so much harder at this stuff.

I almost never change character names with the exception of Mosk, who was originally Amshel for about 2 years in the first version of The Ice Plague before I came to my senses.

In another world I wrote name generators and enjoyed the fuck out of it because like, naming places / people / side characters / stores / nightclubs / cafes / animals / trees is my jam and I love doing it and I find it very easy. I don't really 'decide' on character names. If it takes too long, I just think 'I'll try again later.'

Book titles though?

BOOK TITLES ARE THE WORST and they are my nemesis *rolls on the floor groaning.*

#asks and answers #pia on writing #oh hey it's been a while since i've gotten to use the pia on writing tag!#noice #fae tales #fae tales AU #fae tales verse #and every other damn thing i work on #i'm so...lazy with names #like hensley and betsan i made up #i did not...give it much thought #'no thoughts head empty' is how i name many of my characters and frankly #a lot of the time it works dsalkfjdsafsda #i'm embarrassed now #other authors are like diving into 400 layers of symbolism #and i'm like 'lol ardent without the T is a name'

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not-poignant · 4 years ago

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tinyurl com gods-in-faetales Wow, thank you so much for all this info, you've put it into perspective for me. Zero plan I figured as well, but thanks for explaining zero likelihood. I was more curious about the scenario in which, if Gwyn lived long enough, would his power be /technically/ strong enough. Disregarding all the other requirements to become a demigod. So, now I got curious about a few more things, I'm sorry, I'll ask even more questions now, I hope I'm not annoying you. xD TBC

So about those questions I mentioned in my previous ask... xD

Why Nain Rouge and King of the Forest could, in theory, technically, get invs?

Because they’re both extremely powerful in ways that we’ve never seen in the canon. The Nain Rouge in particular sits on a lot of her powers, and doesn’t show them. She tends to just show the most destructive ones. They’re also both ancient in ways that are incomprehensible to most of the fae. But also, they both haven’t gotten one yet, so they’ll never get one.

And why gods discourage inviting those rare exceptions?

Because (and this is in the canon) fae don’t really belong in the upperworlds or underworlds. And, as we’ve seen in the case of Ash and Augus in the canon, re: underworlds, it tends to make them sick. In the case of Augus, he’s permanently poisoned because of his frankly limited exposure to the underworlds. It’s an indication that they do not belong. While having them become ‘gods’ somewhat changes that, the foundation remains that they never belonged in the first place.

Does it get too 'crowded' in some manner?

See above.

How old is Albion, acutally?

Over 100k as indicated in the previous ask/s. I leave the older fae ages vague on purpose.

Why is the idea repellent to you (you wrote it in the tags)?

I spend most of my time writing angst re: characters and then having them earn a happy ending. The idea of prolonging their lifespan unnaturally because I’m attached to them or just can’t let them go seems kind of cruel to me personally, because I’d rather just let them go to do their own thing and live their own lives at the end of what I’ve written. I’m just not...obsessed with grafting that level of immortality on any character I write. Even for Albion like, that’s not a happy ending for him. He’s not happy about it. He’s clearly not in a great place about the idea of it and has avoided it for many hundreds of years already, and even from the way he talks to Eran about it, you can tell the whole thing is something he regrets and that he’s not exactly looking forward to it, he just doesn’t know what else to do. Why would I wish more misery on the characters? Like, don’t get me wrong, I love angst, but once I finish a story, I also like leaving characters where they are, in relatively happier places and you know, not completely dead and in the afterlife, lol.

How does a god and demigod differ in Fae Tales universe?

Geeeeeenerally demigods are made, and gods are born as gods.

In a purely hypothetical scenario when more/all faes live long enough, would more of them be qualified to become demigods?

I really really really hope not. (For reasons explained above). And because it’s something I don’t want to see, it’s not something I’m going to entertain. Like if you’re that taken with the idea anon, you can headcanon it as much as you want, but you’re not going to make me find all the loopholes where it’ll work when I find the idea tragic and therefore largely unappealing in the first place.

And please forgive me about comparing Gwyn to Albion, but I just didn't know if it was just Gwyn talking that he could destroy an entire world with his light or if this is actually something that would happen if he'd let it completely loose. Also an idea of creating an ocean is just too big for my brain to comprehend how great of a thing it actually is I guess. xD So it was just Gwyn talking? His light isn't and won't ever be actually *that* powerful?

Gwyn’s light is powerful enough to destroy a planet. But as I pointed out in the previous response, people who have powers that just lead to death and destruction only, don’t get invitations. Period. Gwyn would need to develop other methods of using his light or developing other powers (just as I pointed out that Albion has other ways of using his powers that aren’t at all related to death/destruction) that aren’t just wanton destruction, death, or turning things into wastelands. If your scope of power is planet-destroying, but you still can’t really use your abilities for anything else other than teleportation, the gods are uninterested!

Ultimately anon, I feel like you’re intrigued by or excited by an idea or ideas you have, and I just don’t share that excitement, which is why a lot of this stuff isn’t fleshed out further in the Fae Tales realm in the first place (there is after all, room in all the words for the fae to have talked about it extensively by now if I thought it would ever matter to the story - which it’s not going to).

I love that you enjoy the idea of it! But it’s definitely not for me, which is why I’m not writing POV stories about fae ascending (or descending) to godhood. But I hope you enjoy your headcanon-ing! Your own version can be as happy (or as sad) as you want it to be, and in your own version you can have it happen for all of the characters you want it to happen for. :D

#asks and answers #fae tales #fae tales verse #fae tales worldbuilding #i've never actually wanted to write a story about gods in my life #the closest i've gotten is these fae figures tbh #and their immortality is supremely conditional #but also i just strongly believe in characters having their own lifecycle #at some point i like to leave them alone #it's not like the gods are ever going to be involved in FT #aside from Kabiri #if they were wandering around more often #we'd probably know it by now #administrator Gwyn wants this in the queue #Anonymous

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