Random things that I enjoy. Currently obsessed with TDP. Beyblade. FFXV. She/Her. Over 18+ by more than a little. Sometimes I write things. Mostly, I don’t.
you tried to read the words as prose
but noticed how its scansion goes
and now you can’t unhear the tune, so screw ya
recall the phrase you love the most
then once again reblog this post
and tag your fav’rite line of hallelujah
You pick a phrase, you pick a rhyme, repeat the sound another time,
Five iambs, then an extra beat will do ya.
Another rhyme, a rising note - congratulations, you just wrote
Another goddamn verse to Hallelujah.
This isn’t exactly a direct sequel. More of a spiritual successor to the first part. I haven’t written anything significant in like a year, so *waves hands* here you go.
“Why are you avoiding me?”
Runaan tensed, his concentration shattering under that familiar brogue. He took a measured breath and opened eyes, staring into the forest beyond. Birds chirped overhead, flitting in and out of the strands of sunlight piercing the thick cover of leafs. “I’m not.”
Ethari’s dark brows arched and his lipped thinned. For a moment, he considered removing an item from his bag and chucking it at the perfect white braid in front of him. “Then why did Dali stop by my shop earlier to ask why you dropped your bow off with her for repairs instead of with me?”
Even with his back to Ethari, Runaan felt the heat of the glare between his shoulder blades. Could picture those light brown eyes ablaze with anger in the afternoon sun. It was by force of will alone that he smothered a wince. “Dali should gossip less. I thought her services were suitable enough to fix my bow.”
“Suitable? I built your bow, Runaan. If it needs repairing, then you bring it to me. You always have in the past.” The last sentence came out softer, and with a bit more emotion than Ethari all together appreciated. “Have I offended you?”
“What? No.” Runaan stood from his rock perch and faced Ethari, careful to keep the boulder between them. Offense was the last thing Ethari had caused him, and that was exactly the problem. Runaan could handle offense. The soft flutter in his chest every time the craftsman looked his way, or the warmth that unfurled there at Ethari’s smile - those were the things leaving him unmoored. Runaan folded his hands behind his back. “I simply wished not to disturb you. You seemed busy.”
“I’m the blacksmith, Runaan. Bringing your weapon to me when you’ve broken it isn’t bothering me. It’s my literal job. I shouldn’t have to hunt you down to do it. That is a bother.” Ethari adjusted the strap of his shoulder bag, but met Runaan’s eyes with an even stare of his own.
Runaan straightened his shoulders further until his posture rivaled the stone fixtures in the Silvergrove. He spoke in the cool, crisp tone usually reserved for his assassins, but his hands clenched behind his back. “There was no need for you to seek me out, Ethari. If I wanted to leave my weapon in your care, then I would have, but you weren’t necessary to repair it. You wasted your own time.”
Ethari’s eyes, normally so bright with molten warmth, went brittle beneath their rapid cooling. He tugged a strap from his shoulder, revealing a long canister, and tossed it across the space between them. Runaan caught it with a frown, but Ethari was already speaking. “I will keep that in mind in the future. My apologies for bothering you, Runaan. It won’t happen again.”
Ethari turned on his heel and stalked out of the clearing before Runaan could say anything else. He looked down at the cylinder in his hand and, after taking a bracing breath, unscrewed the top. His bow, newly repaired and tenderly wrapped within the case so it wouldn’t scuff, waited inside. Runaan dropped his head with a huff. Already, an ugly feeling was winding around his ribs and crawling towards his lungs, making it hard to breathe.
“Well, that couldn’t have gone much worse if you’d put actual effort into it.”
Runaan’s head jerked up, and he scowled when he spotted Lain lounging against the trunk of a nearby tree. “What?”
His best friend grinned. He shoved away from the tree and crossed the clearing, claiming a seat on the rock Runaan had previously occupied. “Oh, even I get the cold shoulder? You’re in a mood.”
Runaan’s shoulders dipped the barest amount at the rebuke and he settled on the rock next to Lain, who reached over and offered him a moonberry. Ignoring the offered gesture, Runaan continued to stare at his reclaimed bow. “I thought you were training for the Guard this week.”
“I am, or was - it’s the end of the week, Runaan. Your head really isn’t here, is it?” Lain’s brows drew down as he looked over at Runaan. Beneath the facade of perfection, his friend strove to present were dark circles and slumped shoulders. Lain bumped his shoulder into Runaan, his easy humor replaced with concern. “What’s wrong?”
Runaan shook his head, but pinched at the bridge of his nose as if fighting a headache. “Nothing, just a long week.”
“Right, because you normally tear Ethari’s head off when he goes out of his way to be kind to you. Did the two of you fight?” At Runaan’s look, Lain waved his hand. “I mean, besides the obvious one just a few minutes ago.”
“No. What could we possibly fight about? He always takes exceptional care of my weapons, and that is all the involvement we have.” As he spoke, Runaan absently trailed his fingers along the cylinder containing his bow.
Lain stared at him for a long, long moment before the laughing started. He braced himself against Runaan’s shoulder as he pitched sideways with amusement. Runaan glowered down at him. “What?”
“Sorry, sorry,” Lain said, reclaiming his breath but not his balance as he remained leaning on his friend. “Come on, Runaan. We all know how you and Ethari feel about each other. The only ones still in denial about it are the two of you. Actually, probably just you. I’d wager Ethari knows exactly how he feels about you.”
“Probably like I’m a right arse,” Runaan muttered, fingers still stroking his bow.
Lain snorted and crossed his legs in front of him, finally straightening away from Runaan. “Well, yeah. Right now, that’s true enough, but generally he likes you. More than likes you. I thought you had - uh - similar inclinations with him.”
“I-“ Runaan bit down hard on his tongue as his mouth attempted to betray him. “It’s complicated.”
“What isn’t complicated with you?” Lain said with a roll of his eyes. “For whatever my opinion is worth, I think you’d be good together.”
Runaan just shook his head and stood up, slinging the canister with his bow over his shoulder. “I need to go, and shouldn’t you be getting back to Tiadrin?”
Sensing that pushing the topic any further would only result in Runaan slamming a stone wall between them, Lain sighed and stood as well. “She sent me out to find you. I’m supposed to invite you to dinner, but I suspect you’re going to decline.”
Runaan offered an apologetic smile as they headed back towards the grove. “My apologies, but I can’t tonight. I have to prepare.”
“That’s right, you have a mission soon, don’t you? The full moon is just a week away. When do you leave?”
“In three days.”
Lain tugged at his braid as they walked, tilting his head back to glimpse the stars through the gaps in the trees. He tapped the fingers of his other hand against his leg and kept his eyes off Runaan, making his best attempt at casual. “You should have Ethari look over your weapons, just in case.”
The tension radiated between them at the name, but Lain continued to pretend he wasn’t aware and eventually Runaan’s shoulders eased. “My weapons are fine. It would be a distraction and a waste of his time.”
“I don’t think Ethari minds and making sure you are safe isn’t a waste of time, Runaan. I know you’re the rising star of the assassins, but you’re not infallible and you have people here who would be quite perturbed to lose you.”
Runaan twisted to stare at Lain, teal eyes wide. Lain blinked at him and then frowned. “You do know people care about you, right?”
“Of course,” Runaan said, but the surprise lingered. “It’s not that, just - I’m an assassin. Our life expectancy is limited and I forget not everyone must come to terms with that fact as we do.”
Lain rolled his eyes and bumped his shoulder against Runaan’s with a laugh. “See, this is why I love you. Your sunny disposition and optimism never fail to brighten my day.”
Runaan smiled despite himself, shaking his head and sending the wave of his white hair swaying behind him. They’d reached the entrance to the Silvergrove, but Runaan lingered at the ritual gate. “Go ahead, and tell Tiadrin I send my best. I promise to visit after the mission.”
Lain leaned in and dragged Runaan close for a hug, ignoring the stiffness in his frame as the assassin begrudgingly dealt with it. “I’ll hold you to that,” he said, a rare touch of gravity in his tone, and then with a flash and a smile Lain was gone, melting into the illusion of the Silvergrove.
I wasn’t originally going to post this, seeing as how it’s pretty short and I wrote it in a sleep-deprived haze last night, but my sleep-deprived haze tonight figures, what the heck? Might as well. This is unedited nonsense, and basically an experiment in trying to find the voices for these two again, but have some super rough pre-ruthari, ruthari. Oh, and the title was stolen from Fools by Lauren Aquilina, because it’s very Ruthari for me.
Ethari’s back was to the door, and Runaan lingered on the threshold. There was a hypnotic quality to the steady rise and drop of Ethari’s arm as he hammered his newest project. Or perhaps it was just the curve and flex of his bicep. Runaan shook his head. Dismissing the flush on his cheeks because of the stifling heat, he stepped inside the room. When Ethari remained fixated on his task, Runaan hesitated. He didn’t want to startle the craftsman, and risk causing him injury.
Taking an awkward step back towards the door, Runaan froze as Ethari’s head turned and caught him in the corner of one light brown eye. “Stop haunting my doorway like a ghost,” he said, words softened by his smile. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”
I feel like this has weight! a few months ago my demon brain conjured a similar idea of rayla needing to choose who to save (and thusly only saving runaan), and given the sheer emphasis he is given in s5 "Runaan is in the centre of the group in Rayla's vision (and in other moments where she's holding all 3 coins), Rayla says his name first in the scene above, and in the very beginning of S5 E1, she says his name with an added layer of emotion", and "Runaan's coin was the only coin that Rayla hugged at the beginning of 5x01" (cr: ladyandherbooks), I feel like there might be some elements of choice and sacrifice involved in the de-coining.
Random thought on TDP S5: Callum briefly gets a look at the ‘returning lost spirits to their bodies’ spell and mentions that it requires special ultra-rare diamonds. Sure would be neat if that spell also required those diamonds to be crafted into something to work. No idea where they could find someone to help with that. Not like there’s a Master Craftsman with a vested interest in the outcome of that spell.
The problem about having brainrot for your own fic is that I want to talk about it constantly but I don’t want to spoil anything but I want to talk about motives and characters and just the events but I want to preserve mystery and suspense
So… I should be working on GLU. That was the plan for November. But work has sucked and it’s the Christmas season, and well, one thing led to another. (In my defense, it’ll be set in the GLU universe). And I maybe bought a penguin decoration that reminded me of Ian. I shared the development with @zadien and now I’m a thousand words into a Christmas special featuring PenguIan (named by previously mentioned bad influence Gems). And because I have no self-control, and I’m decorating today, here’s a snippet.
Tala stepped back and tucked his hands into the pockets of his worn jeans, eyes narrowing on the sadly blinking strand of colored lights hanging above the bar. “That’s…” He tilted his head. “Not great.”
Beside him, Ian scoffed. “Congratulations,” he said. “You somehow managed to make this place even more depressing than it was two minutes ago.”
Tala winced, wanting to argue, but something about the single line of illumination against a backdrop of sawdust and plastic sheeting did manage to make the scene worse. “Fuck off; we’re being festive,” he said. “It’ll be better with a tree.”
Inspired by @paperclippedmime Nano question today - what would be the opening & ending songs if your WIP was adapted? And because GLU is heavily music inspired, and the opening the ending are kind of a given for GLU (my chapters are titled after their main musical inspirations):
Opening: Paper Wings by Rise Against
Ending: The Good Left Undone by Rise Against
I figured I’d share a song / scene that I’m currently working on in GLU. The song is Whereabouts Unknown by (shocking everyone I’m sure) Rise Against.
The specific lyrics for this scene are from around the middle of the song:
Another place, another time
We toed the same side of the line
Yeah we saw eye to eye
Even then the saddest sounds,
Were nothing laughter could not drown
But we are not laughing now
I see your face
In my sights
I hesitate
And then look for a sign
Somewhere in the sky
Garland stared at Kai like his brain had just blue-screened. Under the table, Brooklyn nudged him with the toe of his shoe. “Not quite the reaction you wanted, was it?”
“Why?” Garland said, like Brooklyn hadn’t spoken. “If you know, then why the fuck are you working with him? Helping him?”
“Is that what I’m doing?” Kai flicked a speck of dust off his shoulder before leveling his gaze back on Garland. “How did you think this was going to go? You’d reveal this deep dark truth and I’d… what? Flip sides? Help you? Help Boris? I know you can’t be that dense, Siebald.”
“In his defense,” Brooklyn said, a small smile playing along his lips as he traced the rim of his glass with a finger. “You’re hardly known for your loyalty. Family, friends, coworkers—they’ve all been expendable to you in the past.”
“I’m loyal to myself,” Kai said. “I figured you of all people would understand that.”
I was thinking about @paperclippedmime's question regarding music and how they work with certain scenes. And it got me thinking about this particular piece of music from Haikyuu that I wrote and edited a Tala scene to (finding this track on youtube is an effort because the album on Spotify is all in Japanese and I DON'T SPEAK IT! But I know this scene and the Trust part gave it away.)
It's from Chapter 39, I think of SLTS. The ending of the Time arc. The Varsity are losing to the JV team because Varsity have lost a few key players (most especially their goalie and they are having teething problems and communication problems and things are not going well). So of course Tala has to step up and save the day, right? (Also featuring Sassy Best Boi Max as the goalie extraordinaire for the JV team and Daichi being Daichi).
-----------
As Jefferson moved up with the puck in hand, Tala blew out a breath, cleared his mind, allowed it to frost over until it mimicked the flat surface beneath his skates.
Jefferson glanced between Miguel and Kai, offered his pithy spiel about sportsmanship—probably lifted from a Disney movie—and readied the puck.
Kai nodded, a quick jerk of his head, eyes glued to the black disc. Miguel shifted, his fingers twitching on the stick. Daichi shuffled an inch to the side, a subtle position aimed to block Enrique’s dash up front. Tala’s lips ticked up. Good for them, they’d guessed their tactic. Not that it would help them.
The puck dropped.
Kai blocked Miguel, and knocked the puck back. Tala snatched it and whipped away to clearer ice, out of Kirby’s surprisingly fast reach. He drew back as Kirby chased him and looked around for Enrique.
“You’re going the wrong way!” Kane shouted.
Bryan intercepted Kirby and Tala grinned. Miguel came at him. Tala spun out of his reach, snapping the puck to Enrique as his teammate emerged from the cluster of JV uniforms. Enrique nearly fumbled the pass but then he tore down the ice.
Tala chased after him, aware of Kai coming down the middle to act as interference. Enrique was fast, but Enrique had one vital flaw. He could only go in a straight line and if anyone got in his way, Enrique didn’t have the stick handling or ability to dodge and keep the puck.
A flash of navy shot across the ice and directly into Enrique’s path. Tala cursed under his breath as Tyson got in front of Enrique and swept his stick into the puck’s path. It skittered across the ice, a black blur as Tyson and Enrique collided. Tala changed gears, skates all but slicing through the ice as he veered off after the puck. He could feel Miguel breathing down his neck, knew his cousin was just as intent on getting that puck.
They couldn’t afford that. Once the JV got it they’d waste the remaining time. He could feel the seconds eroding away, like melting snow. Less than four minutes. Sticks hooked at his feet and he evaded. Slamming into the boards, he struggled to free the puck. No corners on a rink but it sure fucking felt like he was boxed in one.
A body crushed him into the boards and he grunted, ribs protesting as he struggled for purchase.
“Give it up, Tala.”
“Why?” Tala asked. “You think you’ve won, Miguel?”
“First goal, and not the last.”
Tala shook his head. Was it a combination of inexperience and naivety that made them so cocky? Had he ever been that arrogant? Probably still was, he thought with a smirk, as the edge of his stick knocked the puck loose.
“Enrique!”
Enrique scooped it up and took it around the back of the net while Miguel growled and shoved at him to right himself. Tala chuckled and followed suit.
He could hear his team shouting from the box but their words were a blur. He didn’t need their instructions, he knew what he had to do.
Crouching low to intercept a pass, he flicked it to Enrique, baring his teeth at Kirby’s sound of annoyance. Using the brief moment of clear ice, he tried to get a better angle on the net. They were swarming, clustering around Max as the JV goalie watched the puck with eagle eyes, not an excess of movement to be seen.
3 minutes.
Enrique swung his stick back and slammed the puck at the net. Max knocked it away like it was an irritant. Not an ounce of concern on his face.
“Clear it!” Miguel ordered.
Kirby seized the puck and passed to Daichi. Enrique shoved his way in front, stick swinging like a metronome and when Daichi tried to pass it was knocked off trajectory by the tip of Enrique’s stick. Kai snagged the puck and whipped around to shoot. It bulleted towards the net and Max snagged it out of the air and froze it.
Kirby patted his helmet as she passed. “Nice save, Max!”
Tala blew out a breath and straightened, rolling his shoulders as he waited for Jefferson to collect the puck.
2 minutes, fifty-three seconds.
“You need a nap, Maxie? I’ll hold the fort for you,” Tala offered through clenched teeth.
All good-natured cheer, Max grinned at him through his visor, dropping the puck into Jefferson’s hand. “No thanks, Tala. This is the first bit of action I’m seeing all game. Was going to go grab lunch earlier since you guys didn’t want to come visit.”
Flipping the boy off, Tala glided over to the circle coming around to Kai’s right. “We need to make the play now.”
“What do you think we’ve been doing?”
Enrique huffed out a breath and swallowed hard, licking his dry lips. “Max is like a steel fort. We can’t get through him.”
“You OAP’s need a rest?” Kirby asked, passing through them to find her spot.
“I can’t move without Tyson sticking to me,” Kai muttered under his breath.
Tala glanced over at the navy-haired teen who was pulling his helmet back over his head and snapping it into place under his chin. “Get me the puck.”
“You think now’s the time?”
“Who better to try it out on than Max?”
With a roll of his shoulders, Kai nodded and Tala drifted to his spot for the face-off. He dropped low as the puck fell and Kai swiped it from under Miguel’s stick. Taking it, Enrique snapped it to Tala. He danced out of Kirby’s path, jumping over her stick when she tried to hook the puck and—
He stumbled forward as a train bulldozed him from behind. Hitting the ice on his knees, he glowered over his shoulder. Dunga picked up the puck and took it around the net. Scrambling to his feet, Tala grabbed his stick and took off after the defenceman.
“Spencer!”
The collision of bodies would have rattled Tala’s bones as Spencer pinned Dunga to the boards. It left their zone wide open with Miguel skating down the ice for a one-on-one confrontation with Kane.
Tala raced after him only to be passed out by Enrique, briskly chasing Miguel down. They crossed the neutral zone and Enrique veered into Miguel, knocking him off balance and sending the puck skittering down the ice to the boards. Kane slipped out of the net and dug out the puck, casting it over to Tala as he circled around.
2 minutes, 30 seconds.
Breath labouring in his chest, Tala guided the puck back down the ice, dodging Daichi and into the offensive zone, taking in the fact that every time Kai tried to shake Tyson, the kid stuck to him like glue. Bryan shifted around, trying to block Dunga and Kirby but with her quick reflexes, she outmanoeuvred her bulky cousin and sprinted to Tala.
He deked and nipped by her, legs working hard to carry him past the net and around the back of it, aware of Max shuffling to keep him in sight.
“Get it in, Tala!”
“Come on, Tala,” Daichi jeered, “show us something fancy.”
Kid was too mouthy for his own good, Tala thought, taking the puck across in front of Max and leading him to the right of the net. As the boy shifted to close off the corner, Tala flicked the puck back between his legs and clipped it up and over Max’s left shoulder.
It struck twine and the lamp lit.
For a second, time stopped and then the roar from the bench hit him. He pumped his fist and spun to grab Enrique.
“The fuck was that!” The blonde roared in his ear as Bryan slapped his helmet hard enough to jar his brain.
Elation filled him, a deep-rooted satisfaction of a damn good goal. He grinned over the babbling blonde’s shoulder at Kai who approached them with a smirk.
“Cutting it close weren’t you?”
Pushing Enrique off him, he bumped his gloved fist against Kai’s. “Still within the five minutes.”
“You’d think they’d never scored before,” Miguel muttered as he muscled past them.
Tyson jostled his captain. “Don’t worry about it, we’ll get another back! Still two minutes on the clock and it doesn’t take that long to score.”
Tala straightened, following them to the face-off but paused when Max called out to him. Tala flinched at his sober expression. He braced himself for the self-doubts. He didn’t want to make Max questions his skills. It was a testament to his talent that Tala had to resort to that kind of shot.
“Hey, Tala, when we get back to school after break, mind showing me that goal again?”
Surprised, Tala propped himself against his stick. “Think I’ll be able to pull it off again? Maybe it was a fluke?”
Max’s blue eyes were bright but serious. “I want to see what I need to do to stop that.”
Recognising that same drive inside the blonde boy, Tala nodded. “I will, if you promise to help us whip Kane into shape. He could do with some one on one time with a goalie.”
Max blinked, then nodded rapidly. “Sure, if you think it’ll help, I’d be glad to.”
It is a painful truth that actually none of my fics are abandoned, no, not even the ones that haven’t updated in five years. I still know exactly what happens next, and after that, and so on. They’re not abandoned; they’re right here, haunting me, characters climbing up my pants like kittens nagging for dinner.
turnnoffyourmind
dededos
prguitarman
origamiaround
discoholicmusic
janainaart
kaledo-art
