#me: writes 1.6k

[drysaladandketchup]

for the "things you said" writing meme -- matthew/leon, 12 :)

Thank you for the request <3 I realised very quickly I have no idea what constitutes a 'mini' fic. I struggle to write 'mini' anything lol. Hopefully this still satisfies :)

12. things you said when you thought i was asleep

It takes all of Matthew's willpower not to reach over and smash his phone just to shut off the alarm. All that saves his wallet and an awkward trip to the Apple store is the split-second realisation that the shrieking in his ear isn't his usual alarm.

It's a ringtone. Not his own, either.

He pries his eyes open to find the world through the window is still dark. One of the balcony doors is still ajar, letting in a cool night breeze. He's lying on his side in his own bed, the end of the all-star weekend memorialized by several aches and bruises.

His hips and ass are a little sore too, but that's unrelated. Technically.

The ringing stops. Someone huffs behind him.

Someone. Yeah, no, Matthew knows who it is. They may have met up at the bar once the media was done swarming, but Matthew was far from drunk. Painfully sober, in fact. If he's being honest with himself, he was hoping things would turn out this way.

One more time. One more moment. Because it's been a long time since they were them. Longer still since the sex was just sex, since hate became want. Matthew is strong in a lot of ways, but not against this.

"Davo." Leon's voice is low, and still gruff from sleep when he answers his phone. He sits up on his side of the bed, trying not to disturb Matthew, pulling the covers back up over Matthew's shoulder like he thinks he'll freeze to death in this balmy Florida winter.

Usually Matthew's a heavy sleeper. But never when Leon's around. He makes it impossible for Matthew to completely relax, to let time slip by. Leon's just too big of a presence, almost too much to bear. It was more important that everything linger, to bask in the strange comfort of their relationship, whatever it was. They had so little time. Even less, now.

"I know it's late. No, no, I'm not at the hotel. I'm... I'm with Tkachuk."

Leon says his last name like it's wrong, like it's rotting on his tongue.

When he corrects himself, says, "Matthew", it's better, lighter. Like it's ambrosia.

Matthew remembers when Leon Draisaitl saying his name wouldn't have meant a damn thing to him. When that simple act didn't fill him with fondness.

In the silence, Matthew can hear McDavid talking on the other end, but can't quite make out what he's saying. Matthew tucks up under the duvet, breathing quiet and even, trying to focus instead on the distant sound of waves and the ticking clock on his wall.

Ticking. Always ticking. Time bleeds out when they're together.

He doesn't even remember falling asleep last night, but he wishes he hadn't now. He wishes he'd stayed awake longer, just to... just to see him. To look Leon in the eye, to talk about everything and nothing until dawn, to feel big, too-warm hands on his body more and more and more. He wants to make sure he'll remember how Leon feels, sounds, tastes.

"Connor," Leon says, a warning, followed by a sigh. "I know. I know, okay? It was stupid, but..."

Maybe it was. Matthew has a good thing here in Florida. Better than ever. He was happy to leave Alberta behind and start over. So why did leaving make him feel like a coward?

Because leaving was about Calgary, and the Flames. About his career and his future. It wasn't about Leon. Leon was the wrench in the gears; the one thing he didn't expect to have to say goodbye to, the kind of hurt he never could have accounted for.

"I needed to see him." Leon sounds helpless. He's not the only one.

The only time he's heard Leon so lost was after his team was knocked out of the playoffs last season. The Oilers meant nothing--Matthew was pretty fucking glad considering they'd beat out the Flames--but he never wanted to hear Leon like that again.

He definitely never wanted to be the cause of it. Not like this.

Leon is still mumbling into his phone. "Yeah, I'm fine. He's... we're good. He's happy."

A hand settles on Matthew's head. Fingers play with his curls, nails scratch his scalp. A thumb presses just behind Matthew's ear, stroking the soft skin where only hours before Leon had put his lips, whispering sweetness and filth in equal measure.

It takes everything for Matthew not to groan, to whimper and surrender, roll over and climb on top of Leon and take all over again. Beg him to take something--everything--from Matthew.

"I don't know," Leon says then.

It's easy to guess what McDavid asked.

He's happy. But are you?

"I can't even tell him I still love him."

Still. Matthew didn't even know there was a before, let alone a still. Leon never said anything. Fuck, if Matthew wasn't busy trying to remember how to breathe, he'd roll over and punch him.

Then again, what did Matthew ever say? They never talked about it. Never let those closet hook-ups and slipping out back doors and little drinks and dinners and overnights excused as practical necessity be anything more than that. A bunch of chirps and half-truths and aborted discussions because it was all becoming too much. There was too much uncertainty. Too many ways it could go wrong.

It did go wrong. It became something. It became real.

Maybe that would have changed something. Maybe it wouldn't have changed anything at all. It doesn't matter now. Matthew left, and neither of them said a word about things like love, because it was easier to hope it would shrivel and die with distance and time.

"I know I'm being stupid." Leon pauses when McDavid interrupts, then huffs. "No, I am. Fuck, I really thought I'd get over it. Maybe I will. Eventually."

Don't you fucking dare, you piece of shit, Matthew wants to scream.

"Not sure I can, though." Leon swallows so loud Matthew can hear it. Then quieter, like he's not sure he's even allowed to admit it, he says, "I don't really want to."

He's still playing with Matthew's hair, occasionally dragging a finger over his bare shoulder or down his back, tracing imaginary lines across Matthew's flesh. Like he's something to be memorized and cherished.

They're both so fucking stupid. Matthew bites his lip and tries not to choke on the lump in his throat. Could be his heart, climbing right up and out of his mouth. He clings to the sheets with shaking hands.

"I'm not going to fuck up what he's got here," Leon says tiredly, voice thick with tension and pathetic resignation.

Leon's not here to drag him back. He wouldn't do that. So why is he here? Just to torture them both? Being with him doesn't feel like torture. It feels like winning. It feels like defiance and decadence and too much and not enough. It feels like what could have been and what could still be.

He didn't find Leon at that bar and bring him home out of pity, or nostalgia, one last fuck for old times sake. It was... it just was. Not an ending. Not some final goodbye. Proof maybe there could still be something. Getting over it was never an option, Matthew knew that well before he stepped onto the ice as a Panther and found himself staring Leon down all over again.

Matthew's vision is blurring. His eyes sting, warm and wet. There's blood pounding in his ears, and a hand clutching his heart, a vice around his lungs. He hardly remembers how to breathe.

He doesn't catch the rest of Leon's conversation, except something about meeting Connor back at the hotel tomorrow. Meaning he's staying the night, at least. He's staying.

When Leon hangs up the phone, Matthew finally comes up for air. He relaxes his shoulders, listening to the soft thump as Leon taps his phone against his forehead over and over. Then it clatters on the side table. Leon sighs, sniffs, and sinks back under the covers. He tucks right up against Matthew's back, still burning like a furnace, soft muscle and skin brushing Matthew's spine in all the right ways.

He throws an arm around Matthew and finds one of his hands, worming his fingers through the gaps to hold it. His palm is sweaty, not that it matters at all to Matthew. He can't help squeezing Leon's hand a little, but if Leon notices, he doesn't say a word.

Not until he's wrapped tight around Matthew, near suffocating, like any part of them that isn't touching is a sin.

"Love you," Leon mumbles, barely more than a whisper, pressing his lips right to the base of Matthew's neck. Matthew's body can't seem to decide whether to shiver or melt under the heat.

Leon says it like it's inevitable. Painful. Pitiful.

What he's saying is, I'm sorry I love you. I'm sorry I couldn't say it before. I'm sorry I don't know how to say it now. I'm sorry it's too late, it's the wrong place, the wrong time.

Like he doesn't think Matthew could ever understand. And that's the worst part of it all. They're still not on the same page. Tearing down what they never built.

If Leon's only brave enough to say it when Matthew's asleep, then Matthew will just have to be brave enough to say it in the light of day. He doesn't run, and he won't now that he knows he doesn't have to.

He stares into the night outside his window, listening to Leon breathe, feeling his heart beat through Matthew's chest like that's where it longs to be.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow maybe they can stop chasing time long enough to make the most of what they have. To make up for what they've wasted. And whatever happens after, well, maybe they can stop being afraid of that, too.

[v3lnys]

A Way To Celebrate

Lando Norris/Lewis Hamilton — 1.6k — Explicit/Smut

“You did so good, sweetheart,” Lewis whispered, soft lips pressing against Lando's cheekbone. The latter whined quietly under him, hands gripping tighter onto Lewis' shirt, always so shy about being complimented.

AKA, Lando gets a podium, Lewis is very happy for him.

[blorbocedes]

prompt: lewis' film debuting at cannes, nico only an hour away

Lewis' film is premiering at Cannes. Nico takes his daughters to go.

It's apparently in collaboration with Liberty Media, lots of big Hollywood A-listers attached as producers, and actual F1 tracks and cars in use. The story is loosely based on Lewis' life, the titular Black kid from a small town in England becoming the Greatest Of All Time. So not too loosely, the main character is named Louis Harrison after all.

It's the kind of feel-good inspirational movie that Nico thinks is important for his girls to watch. The promotion for the film went all out, inviting all F1 stars. Nico himself has been vaguely aware of this film, his social media guy told him his mentions and engagement was way up ever since the main cast included a German blonde, with some speculating it would focus on the "silver war." He clarified to the German tabloids he had absolutely nothing to do with the making of the film after they spread rumours about it being a collaboration.

His daughters, like their father, love to dress up and they walk the red carpet hand in hand in their matching floral dresses, and Nico in his organic, tailored velvet green suit; pausing for the photos.

Their seats aren't too awful, very middle of the pack. A few rows ahead Nico can recognize Lewis from the distinctive shape of his braids, and glittery jacket; talking to someone Nico assumes is the director. Nico never quite had that Hollywood fever, but it seems Lewis is enjoying his retirement.

As the theatre goes dark, his daughter appropriately chastises him for having his phone out, texting Vivian a thumbs up on when she wants the girls home before pocketing it. It starts off with Young Lewis -- or Louis -- watching Senna race, a voiceover about dreams and becoming the best. The younger actor is appropriately charming, doesn't have Lewis' gap tooth but has a mean scowl when people underestimate him. It reminds him a lot of the real Lewis. The usual diatribe about the humble beginnings, the actor playing Anthony being Louis' one man pit crew taking him to races within England, an incredible wholesome father-son racing representation, one Nico was lucky to experience in his own life.

Moving on to karting years, Louis as the only black kid getting certain looks from the rest of the boys, lily-white and jealous. One even shoves him while walking past, making a pointed racially charged comment. There is a time when Nico would've assumed this is exaggerated for dramatic purposes, that his experience on the paddock, even being around Lewis as tightknit as they were, was never that bad. But he knows better now, that there's some things he will simply never experience or flew over his head at that age, and makes a mental note to bring it up with his girls and make it a teachable moment later.

And then, a young blonde boy with the thickest German accent congratulates Louis on winning the race, and Louis' eyes go wide. "You're Julian Richter. Your family is racing legend, man."

Julian. Nico snorts. He supposed it's better than Erik or Klaus as far as stereotype go. He tries not to read too much into it, as Julian and Louis become best friends -- skateboarding on the tracks, instead of unicycling, probably to seem cooler or relating to the kids, -- and karting teammates. Something wistful in Nico aches when the scene is on a beach in Spain, and the characters in the face of their uncertain futures promise they're going to become F1 World Champions together.

The story focuses on Louis' unlikely odds, a chance meeting with an F1 team principal, nothing but a handshake promise and then the road to F1, to win on his rookie year.

And then Julian enters Formula 1. And then Julian signs with Redbull. And then Julian wins consecutive championships, in the backdrop of which his and Louis' friendship crumbles in jealousy and competitiveness, and Nico feels sick to his stomach because Julian Richter is Sebastian Vettel, and the racing legend family he comes from -- the Richters -- are the fucking Schumachers.

The regulations change, Louis starts winning, he has a famous actress of a girlfriend, there's a love story angle. It isn't until Louis wins his 4th title that Julian comes over to congratulate him, both equals again -- remember what we promised on that beach in Spain? and their friendship rekindles. If the timeline Nico's keeping track of adds up, that makes it 2016. His daughter excitedly squeezes his hand when the two characters embrace on screen, making up.

The third act conflict sets the stage for Abu Dhabi 2021, naturally. But before that, it does show Louis becoming complacent with winning, arrogant and cocky as his celebrity profile increased, a rocky relationship. And then, the Niki Lauda wise mentor older character who was there for Louis all this time passes, and it tugs at the heartstrings -- is also Louis' wake up call to change. His girlfriend ends things with him. The young Belgian villain has fully set the stage.

There's a lot of emphasis how winning this final race will match Harrison to Richter's record, the legacy of it all. And then, the controversial safety car decision. Louis Harrison has the championship slip out of his fingers. The crowd gasps, the FIA are not painted charitably, stubbornly sticking to the decision out of 'decorum' after the Mercedes team argues for it to be reversed. Someone definitely boos from the back.

One thing Nico can admit is the racing scenes are quite fun and realistic, even if Toto doesn't break headphones quite as often and once a car was in 5th gear instead of 3rd.

The Julian Richter character shows up after the race to tell Louis he's retiring to go plant trees, and that Louis needs to "win it back and match my dad's legacy, it's what he would've wanted." Nico wishes he knew where Sebastian was so they could lock eyes in this moment at this Frankenstein caricature of them, that exists only to support Louis.

'Loosely based' is correct, because this shows the next season after a lot of sulking and Louis not believing in himself, the Mercedes is immediately competitive instead of whatever the W-13 was. It's a repeat of the 2021 season, which is a repeat of the 2016 season when Julian and Louis were bitter rivals. Louis is also more outspoken now, and shows how he's changed. It all comes down to the final race. The film narrates the speech from the beginning, of believing in yourself, there's a montage of Louis ever since he was a kid falling and getting back up with dramatic music swelling, and then a shot of him slapping down his visor. Lights out and away we go.

Louis Harrison wins the race.

They got Crofty to do a voiceover line for 'This year while off the track Louis Harrison has found his voice, and on it, once again he’s found his groove, and now he finds himself alongside Richter, as top in the record books, the world championship record is equaled,' His girlfriend jumps into his arms in parc ferme. Somewhere, Julian is planting a tree and smiling at the small radio. It's hugs and kisses all around the team, champagnes bursting.

The actual crowd erupts in cheers of emotional catharsis, and it cuts to a future scene of the real Lewis Hamilton in an interview setting, being asked about how he feels about his journey in F1 and if he ever thought he would make it -- if he believed in himself, winks at the camera.

The screen goes black. A Kendrick Lamar song plays as the credits roll.

There is a minutes long standing ovation, which Nico stands and encourages his daughters to clap along, with an inscrutable feeling in his chest. It was a good movie, very awards season bait, the director and lead actors are on stage giving a speech about how much it means to be able to inspire young people with Hamilton's real life story. Nico walks down the steps with others almost on autopilot.

He hadn't realized it, he didn't know he'd been holding out some tiny shred of hope that they would watch this film and through sheer nostalgia of shared memories, he and Lewis would have something to talk about again. He didn't realise how much weight he'd held to those childhood memories until he saw it be attributed to Sebastian Vettel of all people, who was too young to kart with them. It's a piece of fiction, that Nico has no right to harbour resentment towards, he tells himself.

Nico stops for a second, and is in direct eyeline of Lewis in his glittery jacket who is conducting an interview. He feels frozen when they lock eyes.

"People are saying the true heart of the film is Julian and Louis' friendship. How closely does it mirror real life from the actual F1 scene? Like the whole best friends as kids. Would you say you guys are still close friends now, and will the driver it's based on be attending the screenings like a few other F1 drivers have?"

"Yeah definitely, man, as fans have already figured out that friendship is loosely based on my friendship with Seb -- Sebastian Vettel. And yeah, it's -- you've been racing these guys since you're in karting, you feel like you've known them your whole life. [...] No, I don't think Seb's attending, this isn't really his scene."

Lewis meets Nico's eyes for a split second, before turning back to the camera. Nico carefully plucks the emotion he's feeling for something to be discussed with a licensed professional. To be quite honest, he didn't know Lewis could still make him feel like this.

His daughter tugs at his suit jacket sleeve, and Nico guides them towards the vegan ice cream and gelato stalls. There's a PG rated animated film screening at 4.

[carpetbug]

i am going CRAZY in the google docs rn. I love planning stories so entirely out of order 🫶

[charlescoded]

Little snippet for this lestappen abo & soulmate au I'm currently attempting to write:

The soft, confused noise he lets out makes Max hush him again, his hand coming to rest on the back of Charles’ neck. “Max,” He mumbles against his skin, and that helps, touching him like this, to be so close. The itch underneath his skin doesn’t go away, but being in Max’s arms helps. “I don’t understand, you are— you are an alpha?” 

He feels Max shiver. “Yes,” He says tightly, and Charles makes another noise, high-pitched and bordering on keening. He’s never felt like this before, but he’s also never been near an alpha when he went into heat either. Has never wanted to submit before. “Fuck, Charles, you need to let me go—.”

[ant-thebooknerd]

Hey guys, here's another chapter from my Wattpad book. This one is set after Believe Me, and from Warner's POV. Features Kenji and Warner friendship. There will be a part 2 to this, but it will probably take a while.

"Hey buddy, guess what?"

I roll my eyes. I am standing in the common room tent, or what Kenji calls the "VIP dining room". Nazeera and Ella are gone for the day, and I am on special orders from my wife to hang out with him. 

If I had to be honest with myself, I do not hate him as much as I once did. I would still rather impale myself on a pike than admit that to him, but still. Progress is progress. 

"What do you want, Kenji?" I reply, already bored of him. 

"I got us matching friendship bracelets!" says Kenji, a big bright smile on his face. 

I almost manage to choke on air. I turn around to fully face Kenji and look up at his grinning face. For the first time in a while, I am left speechless. I try to speak, but all that emerges is a series of incoherent stutters. Any sense of dignity and composure abandons me faster than my father did. Did this grown man just-

The idiot in question is doing his absolute very best not to laugh at my expression. However, his 'absolute very best' isn't good enough, (like everything else about him) and he explodes into a wave of hysterical laughter. 

"Excuse me? You, a delusional grown man, just asked me, who is only here to fulfil the wishes of his wife, and who wants absolutely nothing to do with you, to wear matching bracelets? Do you even realise-!?"

"Okay, okay!" Kenji cuts me off, hands in the air, feigning innocence. He is still chuckling. "Wow man, I didn't think you'd get so worked up. Ouch! It's alright, we'll work towards it."

I would very much like to retract my previous statement of not hating him. The world is a better place without Kenji Kishimoto.

I shake my head, embarrassed at my outburst. I should have expected this type of behaviour from the moron. "No, not a chance," I tell him, much calmer.  "Now, let's decide on something to do together that will require minimal contact and communication but enough so that we can tell the girls we hung out." 

Kenji looks down at me. My height is not something that makes me feel insecure, but I loathe how I have to look up at him.

 "Really man? That is the only reason you want to hang out? To please Juliette? Don't tell me it's got nothing to do with our growing friendship." he says, grinning. 

I sigh. It is clear that Kenji considers us to be friends, and I have to agree that we have gotten a lot closer since my wedding to Ella. That doesn't mean I am happy about it. 

"I suppose I can truthfully say that I do not wish you a miserable and painful death. I do not quarrel with you dying, but perhaps not painfully. But don't get me wrong, I will not miss you."

Somehow, he finds that funny.

"Sure, man. Do you want to play UNO?" he asks, amused, taking a red cardboard box out of his pocket. I do not know why he would carry such a thing around, but he has done many other even more questionable things, so I let it slide.

"UNO? As in, the number one in Spanish?" I say. I look closer at the box he is holding, from which he takes out two piles of colourful cards.

"Well, aren't you just a fun, shining ray of sunshine," he replies before he shuffles the cards.

Ten minutes later, we are halfway through a round, and I now know all the rules of UNO, which I only agreed to after finding out Juliette enjoys this game.

Kenji places down a Blue 2, having seven cards left in his hand. I have three. A Blue Skip, a Blue 6 and a Blue 8. I am feeling pretty confident, and place down my Skip card followed by my 6, and say "Uno,". All I need is for him to put down a blue card, or nothing. There is no prize to be won from this game, but I will greatly enjoy beating Kenji.

He puts down a Red 6. "Idiot," I tell him. I pick up a card, and it is a Yellow 3. I was so close.

His turn. Red Skip, taking my turn. Green Skip, taking it again, then a Green +2. I scowl and pick up my two cards. A Blue 7 and Red +2. 

Apparently, many people play differently, but the way Kenji was taught says that you are not allowed to play a card the same turn you just picked up one. 

He also told me he used to play with his parents.

Red 9 is what he puts down. I have no cards that I can respond with, so I pick up another card. A Red 4. My dreams of winning this game of UNO fade away more and more with each card I pick up. 

"Brainless delinquent," I mutter under my breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

He places down a +4 and says "UNO", but it doesn't matter. This is my chance. My chance for redemption. To avenge my lost UNO. Payback.

I throw down my Red +2 and stare him down. This is what he gets for trying to beat me, for thinking he even stood a chance. Now he has to pick up 6 cards and it's all ove-

A +4 card falls from his hand on top of my +2. He...wins?

Kenji jumps up from his chair and starts cheering. "Woohoo! Guess who just won! Me, motherfucker! Yeah! I win! Take that, you insufferable dipshit!"

"Moron!" I snap back. "This is a game of luck. Rest assured, if it came down to skill, I would have destroyed you within two minutes."

"What I'm hearing is a sore loser!"

"I am not a sore loser! You uneducated swine!"

"Ha, look who is breaking out the meaningless insults. Ran out, Warner? Got nothing to insult me on?" He taunts.

"Not at all, I simply have too many. For example, you incompetent imbecile, you have absolutely zero fashion sense. Those sneakers do not at all go well with those trousers, and your shirt doesn't even match your skin tone. Amateur!"

To my regret, Kenji actually looks down at what he is wearing. It is a grey T-shirt, black joggers with three white stripes down the side, and black runners. Overall, it is not too bad, especially considering the available options here, but I had to respond in some way.

"Okay, well my bad that I grew up at Omega Point and never got the chance to even buy my own clothes. What would you know about that, knowing that you probably have closets full of colour-coded clothing, made from the finest silks and materials?" He mocks.

"You're overexaggerating," I reply. It is mostly suits.

"And you're an inconsiderate ass. When the hell did I ever have the chance to find myself some decent clothes? Definitely not while the world was going to fucking hell and it was up to us to fix it. Fuck off." 

He looks genuinely upset. I realise, too late, that he is right. At the same time, I hate him for making me feel bad.

I sigh. "I apologise for that last comment. It is not your fault, nor is the outfit as bad as I said."

I feel the shift in his mood when he asks me "What's wrong with it?"

The question surprises me. I would not have expected him to care what I think, but he recognises that I know my way around the wardrobe. 

Also, since he started dating Nazeera, I have noticed subtle changes in his life. He started styling his hair a bit neater (she always ends up ruffling it, but I think that's the point), going to the gym (they have a small one at the Sanctuary) a lot more and doesn't swear as often. I do know about the deal he made with Castle, but he seems to be sticking with it a lot better since Nazeera started giving him dirty looks when he swore. I am pretty sure Castle told her to do that.

Whatever it is, he is a lot more put-together nowadays but could be a lot more so if he changes his style. That is something I could help with. But, am I willing to use my free time, my knowledge and my clothes to help this idiot?

I am shocked to find that the answer is yes. I want to say that it is because he is friends with Ella, but I do not lie to myself. He was there for me during the break-up, during my panic attack, was with me when we saved Ella from Oceania and was right beside me for my wedding. 

I check my watch, a wedding gift from Nazeera. 

"Ella and Nazeera said they will be back by 9:00 pm, which leaves us with just over 4 hours. We can go to my house and fix your fashion disaster."

His eyes go wide. "Wait, actually? You'll help me out with this?"

"Let's go," I say, my back already turned from him, walking out of the tent. "Before I regret this."

Welp, here's this! I really don't know much about fashion so someone (me) is going to have to do some research before writing Part 2 to this or  find a way to write so that her obvious lack of fashion sense doesn't show. Hope you enjoyed!

[awkwardtickleetoo]

“hey guys i wanna write SMALL ficlets about people i don’t usually write for. small. ficlets. short fics. nothing more.”

[the-kipsabian]

maybe there is hope

[junkissed]

WAIT whoever asked me about jun neck anatomy i cant find ur original ask but the fic is done and will be posted tn after i get back from class !!!!

[rozaceous]

my personal and deranged version of nanowrimo (fanowrimo) begins tomorrow! I am going to finish tcba by the end of the year!

[mekatrio]

it is so funny that when i first played ghost trick i found it to be rly good but after playing 4 other shu takumi games i find myself not holding it in such great regards anymore

[windrunnered]

why can't i write or finish anything. someone smack me upside the head i'm gonna lose it

[hauntedjohnny]

ok think danny/julie fic will be finished tomorrow xxx #earlychristmaspresent 😁

[despairforme]

- sirens doing off in the back -

[gible-love-nibles-archive]

Eternal Diva Fic (Part 13)

This is where all the Softness (tm) is folks; this is the "Clare is indulging" part lmao. Then again, this entire section of the story is me indulging. This entire fic is me indulging. You signed up for this at this point.

No warnings here, pretty sure! Just a nice soft penultimate chapter :]

Word Count: 1.6k / Previous / Next

“What are you up to?”

I jerked in surprise. It was Descole again, leaning on the doorway.

It had been a couple of days.  At least that was what I guessed.  Time was hard to gauge when there weren’t any windows, and I was lousy at keeping track of time anyway.  

Despite Descole’s advice, I had barely gotten any sleep.  Believe me, I tried.  But my eyes wouldn’t stay closed or I couldn’t settle down.  So most of the time, I took out my notebook and just doodled away, hoping that would help.

“Drawing,” I said simply. “Can’t sleep.”

"Again?" was all he said as he came in. It didn't sound accusatory, but I took it that way.

"I've been trying to sleep, alright? It's just been with... everything! All of this!" I let out a short sigh. "I know that's not your fault, but..." I trailed off.

The masked man just stared at me. I might've been seeing things... but he looked a bit sullen.

"I'm not going to force you to sleep. If you can't, you can't. Simple as that."

There was a stretch of silence. Neither of us moved (not that I could move much anyway).

I could tell Descole didn't want to leave just yet. He had been doing that quite a bit, finding random things to talk about to stretch out these visiting times. I didn't really get why; none of it seemed useful to him at all.

“Could I see what you’re drawing?” He finally settled on that as he sat and settled on the other side of the bed.

I blinked. "You actually wanna see my art?"

"It's something you're passionate about, no? You carried a notebook with you to an opera house of all places, and you're fast at it. How long have you been drawing?"

"All my life, basically? It's just something I've always done."

"Fascinating..."

“…I… guess you can look. If you really want to.” I passed the notebook over to him.  I didn't have anything to hide; it wasn’t like there was anything embarrassing or weird in there. “Just don’t expect to be amazed or anything.”

He thumbed through my notebook quietly.  He just made quirky little expressions at my work and didn't say anything. After a little while of flipping back and forth— enough to almost make me nervous— he handed it back.

“Hm.  You were right.  I wasn’t amazed.”

“Gee, thanks—”

“Because there was nothing of me in there.”

I gawked at him for a moment. “Really? That's your only takeaway?”

“The only negative takeaway. Your style is charming and extremely expressive, your linework and handwriting is neat, and you somehow do it so quickly. I'm very impressed, dear."

"Wait, you... like it? Like, really you like it? You're not pulling my leg here?"

His smile softened. "Absolutely." But that softness went away fast for slyness. "But! If you want my opinion, your posing could use improvement."

"And drawing you will help with that. Totally not because you want free art of yourself." I couldn’t help but snort. “No thanks.  Your hat looks awful to draw.” I pushed it down over his mask so it would cover his eyes.  He chuckled as he fixed it.

“I could model for you, if that would help.” His smile may have been smug, but he was serious.

“I’m sure you have better things to do than be my model.”

“No, my schedule’s all free now with Ambrosia discovered. I'm very open and very available.”

“Well, I heard there’s another lost city out there that I’m sure would be a real head-scratcher for you.  They’re calling it Atlantis.”

“You--!” He playfully shoved me a bit (though it was more of a nudge), and we both couldn’t stop from cracking up.

~

Another random day, I couldn’t sleep again and Descole visited again.

“Is there anything that will help you sleep better?  You’re really starting to worry me.”

Asking the masked man why he was fretting over me so much never got me a straight answer.  I just dropped it after a while.  

“I dunno.  Time’s just… weird down here.” I was about to say it wasn’t that bad, but I swallowed it.  Of course it was bad; if I wasn’t sleeping, I wasn’t healing (or at least healing with nothing else happening).

He hummed for a bit, then seemed to get an idea. “When I was a boy, my mother used to read me a bedtime story every night she could.  I was out cold right as she finished.  Maybe the same will work for you.  Besides, it must be dreadfully boring here with only one thing to do.”

“...You have got to have something better to do than read me a bedtime story.”

"Please, dash your concerns.  You’re my guest; of course you’re going to take up my time. I'm not going to just leave you alone like some caged animal.  And besides… I want to.  So, do you want to hear a story or not?"

I was taken aback a bit.  He wanted to, genuinely? “Um… sure.  Why not?”

A warm smile slid onto his face. “Thank you, dear.”

I liked seeing that smile. Certainly better than... all that on top of the robot.

He went over to a little bookshelf I hadn’t noticed in the room before.  He dragged his finger across the spines, looking for just the right one. He gingerly pulled out a smaller book. “Ah, here it is.”

The cover was mainly blue with a blonde boy standing on the moon with yellow stars in the night sky.  The title:

“The Little Prince?”

“Have you read it before?”

“I’ve heard of it.  I’ve always wanted to read it, but I could never find it anywhere.”

Descole’s smile grew wider. “Well then, I’m honored to be the one introducing it to you.”

And that was how the next few days went: Descole would sit on my bed, reading The Little Prince.  He had a voice ready for every character, and it always got a laugh out of me. 

Eventually, I’d always fall asleep (most likely leaning on him because I peered over his shoulder to read the words or look at the pictures).  He didn’t leave me settled there forever (or maybe even very long), as every time I woke up, he was gone.

~

"Hey, Descole?"

"Hm? Yes?"

We had just finished a reading of The Little Prince, and the masked man looked exhausted. From context clues, it seemed like he was working on another plan for some ancient site or city or what-have-you.

I figured he wasn't going to tell me anything about it, so I didn't say a word. I was probably going to get roped into it somehow anyway, knowing my luck.

But something had been nagging at me this whole time, nibbling at me. I felt like if I didn't get it out soon, I was going to explode. So... might as well while we were both still awake.

"...How do I say this...?"

"Really, is it that bad?"

Ok sir, this attitude was not helping. "N-No, it's not bad! It's-- the opposite of bad actually."

"And you're having this much trouble getting it out?"

I sighed, and then steeled myself, gripping my blanket. "I just... wanted to say: your voice on top of the Detragan was... really nice...?"

Silence. You could've heard a pin drop.

...Why had I said that? Why did I say that?

Augh god, he was going to be just insufferable now! He was never going to let me hear the end of it!

But, to my surprise... it was still quiet. I hazarded a look at him.

Descole looked stunned. He was staring right through me, all sorts of gears and cogs turning in his head. The great mastermind Jean Descole looked... flustered.

Once he noticed me staring, he puffed up like a startled cat and pretended to cough into his sleeve. For a split second, it looked like his cheeks were flushed. But I wasn't sure.

He stammered. "Yours was... as well."

Silence once more. After a few seconds that felt like a few hours, Descole suddenly darted for the door, not saying a word.

"H-Hey!" was all I could get out before the door shut. I let out a short sigh. "Bad idea. Of course it was."

~

I settled into some kind of rhythm eventually: eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner; find some way to pass the time in between meals with or without Descole around; and once night came along, listen to him read. 

Every meal was cooked by Raymond, though Descole sometimes told me that I ate some of his cooking offhandedly.  I always told Descole that I could tell which parts he cooked: the worst-tasting part.  It was just me teasing him, and he recognized that.  Honestly, I couldn’t tell which parts he cooked, if any at all.

The masked man and I had pretty easy conversations at the start, but things started to get more… awkward as time went on.  Genuine compliments that caught either of us off-guard, and then Descole would hurriedly excuse himself and leave.  Words way too sweet for their own good.  Eventually, we started talking less and less. 

After we finished The Little Prince, he didn’t pick up another book for us to read. He'd just hand me one he'd thought I liked and hurried off again.

It felt… hollowing.  I wanted to say something about it, but I couldn’t just force him to talk if he didn’t want to.

Raymond reassured me during all this. “He’s… lost a lot, lass.  I suppose he’s just steeling himself for when you leave.  He’s enjoyed your company, and he’s preparing himself for when it’s all over.”

It… didn’t make me feel better.

Eventually, I was finally feeling better and could move about the sub.  Which of course, meant it was time for me to leave.

[flockrest]

Hi, another lurking anon. I kept re-reading "Cooking is Communal" post- sorry if that's not the title. I was very curious on your views of Revali's lonely nature (his personality). He feels somewhat abstract to the rito culture...? Or I might be reading into it too much.. And based on the AU- where he is brought back to life, would Tulin try to look for a way to break that lonely aspect of his? I would ask more? But I do not want to overlwhelm. But thank you so much for the posts you do about the Ritos though, its always an enjoyable experience and makes me think a bit more.

hi, welcome! no need to apologise for anything, very glad the post ( which can be called anything you see fit ) resonated with you to a point where you'd follow up on it! and oh boy. you are not reading too much into it, i have A Lot to say about revali and whatever the heck he's got going on with him and his Issues — of which his loneliness is a huge part of — and how that interplays with his people's culture and his love for them as a whole.

just to preface before we get into it: thank you lots for sending this in and for your kind words!! genuinely, it makes me beyond happy to know that my rambling is appreciated ♡ don't be afraid to ask me more if you'd like, i promise you won't overwhelm me because i'm a verified sucker for discussing meta in-depth!

i touched on this in the tags of the mentioned post but to me, pre-calamity revali does come across as someone who denies a lot of things ( very evident ingame ) and also denies himself of a lot of things — especially when it comes to anything that could be significant interpersonally! there's very clear implications that he's been lonely, if not completely alone, for a great bulk of his life; there are even clearer walls he's built up to cope with this and ensure that nobody can ever see or acknowledge this.

to paraphrase some old disco ramblings: he feels like someone who clings so damn hard onto this image he's carefully crafted for himself to present to others — presented for so long that it's not just a second skin so much as it is something deeply embedded — so that nobody can possibly suspect he is in any way lacking. not in skills, or grit, or the ability to be anything but most especially a champion.

or, you know, in any meaningful company at all.

and he just doesn't have the resources, emotionally or otherwise, to really let any of that peek through? he is so vehemently against this idea that he is not enough for anyone, including himself — admitting that he's lacking in any sense aligns with that. there's this line from when i was still testing him out that still stands out to me because i think it really just captures him in this context nicely:

Revali was born chosen by no one. He learnt, very quickly, to choose himself. And now, here he is.

we will never know for sure what his early life was like! but given the hints, there like. had to be a point where he accepted all the hurts of being alone, where he stopped earnestly trying to seek company and approval and being wanted from/by others because the only constant he had was himself. all he needs, an idea that forms at an early age and follows him into older youth, is himself — he can't be unreliable, he can't be conditional.

i think by that time, his seeking turns into something more like ensuring, if i'm making sense? like i don't doubt he's always strived for neverending self-improvement — half-out of a legitimate want to be better and half-out of a desire for attention — but now he's determined to make a name for himself, to make anything for himself, so that nobody can ever skip their gaze over him again. this isn't look at me, this is don't ever look away.

so he just. won't seriously admit to himself that he wants anything more from anyone pre-botw, which constrains any effort — from others or himself — to get closer, and like...be real with each other. to form an actual relationship. he still feels these desires, he just refuses to acknowledge them and it makes me want to shake him in a jar!! self-isolation at its finest! he puts up grandiose airs and all this pomp, because who else can he trust to do it for him! who else can he trust to see his "real worth", even as that's exactly what he's trying to get others to do! this guy is not okay!!

and! regarding rito village and their culture back then: i don't think it deviates from what i currently have in mind for them, but pre-calamity rito village feels like...it is not the same as post-calamity rito village. i think their flock was definitely bigger in that there were more people present and settled in those peaks in revali's era ( compared to both dineli's or tulin's ), so while core values and teachings remain unchanged, the sense of community does not.

it's always intense, but like. post-calamity rito village had to deal with the severe loss and trauma that calamity ganon wrought with him, which tinges their emphasis on togetherness with a touch of this is essential to our survival ( which may actually be a repeat of what happened with dineli's flock, mid- and post-the imprisoning war ). when revali was born, i feel like the community was much like a rural town with the ties the villagers had with each other; when he died, it was more like a covert — in that the world is suddenly way smaller and everybody is connected to everybody for their own preservation. and this is carried on to future generations, a lasting idea of flocking together is above all a priority, even for their travellers who leave the village behind for extended periods of time. i. honestly think this might count as intergenerational trauma?

( seriously, they are not a long-lived folk, yet the calamity has left such an indelible mark on them?? i'm so emo about how revali did not ask for a memorial, he asked for the flight range because it would be useful for him in the present and also for his people in the future, but they gave him this tragic permanency anyway. it's not a celebration of what he did, it's a commemoration to what he couldn't do; saki literally says, of revali's landing, "so named in the hope that none might forget the events of that horrible day". what a mournful way to frame it?! )

that is all to say: it's very plausible that the rito village revali grew up in would allow a solitary, neglected or orphaned fledgling to slip through the cracks. and maybe it's only initially, maybe it's just too late, maybe the fledgling then coats his own cracks over with a self-made balm and decides he won't let anybody make him feel lonely again and shuts himself entirely off, but. as i mentioned in the other study post, his lack of relationships wasn't always his fault, though it probably becomes so as he grows much older.

AND THE THING IS, revali doesn't stop caring about everyone ( and when i say everyone, i mean his people ). he can't! he can convince himself that he has no care for their affections ( and sometimes, he even fails this. he even fails this. i think about that diary entry where he talks about proving himself to the world when "the world" has done shit all for him, and i think about how a good percentage of his perception of "the world" was still narrowed down to his home then ), but he still loves them a great amount.

( to clarify: he cares for them the way you'd care for someone from a distance. you don't really know them, and you probably or would probably get along with them even less, yet you want to keep them around anyway. )

that's just something he's been raised with, steeped in because it's part of his culture, and also just. he's seen practically everything his village has to offer: perhaps all the worst parts in living through the bitterness of being lonely amongst a flock, but also all the best parts! sorry, i know i went absolutely off on how isolated he must've been and felt, but realistically his life couldn't have all been utterly miserable. fleeting joys are still joys! shallow connection is still connection! that came out harsher than i meant but the point is he genuinely loves his home and culture and people, even if his way of proving it is unhealthy and derives from a place that he definitely needs to go to therapy for ( i.e. his love for them is bound to his perceived self-worth. he has to "earn" his "right" to love them by excelling at what he does best, by being special enough, because he's unconditional with himself but they aren't! they aren't )!!

vaguely related, but this is, for me, why he never stops chasing achievements in combat. like ever. it's why rest/inaction forced by his severe injuries in the au where he survives is debilitating in more ways than one and emotionally frays him to a near-breakdown-turned-actual-breakdown. speaking of that, though!

yes!! yes, yes, tulin would absolutely be doing his best to bring revali back into their fold and make sure he stays there! you can see it in-play in my first thread with buck ( whose positively glorious revali can be found @/galestrings ♡ ); he's a kid who just so wholeheartedly believes in revali's goodness, refuses to not see the best of all his qualities, and so incessantly follows after him to Bond!!

i won't speak too much on this because i do want to continue seeing it play out with any revalis who would be willing to explore this with my tulin, but in connecting with him — even on a surface-level — i imagine that might provide a bridge to connecting with the rest of the village too! ( and it doesn't have to start with tulin, but i like my master-disciple bonds too much to let it not, in the case of my take on revali asflsd )

ANYWAY YEAH, that's what i have to say on this stupid bird vis-a-vis his loneliness!! god if you made it here without skipping over anything, i'm blowing you some friendly kithes. mwah mwah! hope i haven't chased you away with this, i'd love to hear your thoughts and receive more questions if you were so curious! thank you so much again for sending this in!! ♡