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idontwanttospoiltheparty · 1 month

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An (incredibly long) "I want"-style song dedicated to the most unruly of trios: John Lennon, Paul McCartney, and George Harrison.

The setting is the late 50's – it's deliberately a bit of a mish-mash :-)

Lyrics below the cut!

John: Green Paul: Blue George: Purple P&G: Pink J&P: Red JP&G: Neutral Liverpool gave up on me the first day of preschool Teachers called me unruly cause I don't suffer fools And my aunt who says she can't believe I’d throw it all away Quarrybank, that school for cranks suspended me the other day

All those lads who quit this band to learn a proper trade Think that I don't understand the facts of getting paid But you both see, It's them not me, it's us and this here prophecy

Do you see us five years on – well Maybe three, that's sort of long As they're writhing for our songs And “Your group's on now, John "

Earning some preposterous wage Free of this less-town-more-cage As we enter center-stage In our gold disk age

And the birds will have to queue For a single peck at you Then, emboldened by the view Watch them molt on cue

And all we need is not to quit, They'll call us Great Britain's Newest stars, brand new guitars, guaranteed not to split

Picture us: the favourite band With a record deal in hand Going deaf from screaming fans As per my new masterplan

Where we going, fellas? Where we going? Where we going, fellas? Where we going? (To the topper-most of popper-most of popper, to the topper) To the toppermost of the poppermost!

I hear music in my head Wherever I go It's like it's bursting out my soul It's something I cannot control

Every night When I get home I watch dad roll his eyes "Heard of this thing called a comb? " I sigh as he implies That mum would be So unhappy and so disappointed in me

Meanwhile I can't drop this tune However inopportune There's a decade dawning soon Shooting for the moon

And John may seem unreasonable But his dream is feasible Sometimes yes, guess he's a gull I'll appease him though

And then I see how for we're come Joined, we're greater than our sum See, the rhythm's in the strum Of the guitars and then some

Playing my part in your vision, I'll Grab a pen, so much to discover Let's produce another Lennon-McCartney original

For the day he and John met And Yes George, I didn't forget! We become a matching set Writing tete-a-tete

Where we going, Johnny? Where we going? Where we going, Johnny? Where we going? (To the topper-most of popper-most of popper, to the toppermost) And where do I fit in? And when do I come in? Is there a spot for me at the To the toppermost of the poppermost!

I'm the youngest, there's no day when they let me forget But the part Paul will not say: I'm their safest bet See the fact is they don’t practice systematically like me I know my chord charts, strings, fretboard, parts of my soul, sorted by key.

Still the world is their playground And I am watching from the fence I can't yet jump with confidence But mum taught me about patience

I still feel Julia's arms around me every time I play What would my mum say? (She tells me) Anything I set my mind to (She taught me everything) The heights I'll climb to (She wanted everything) My time soon Anything to prove I'm worth it (Wouldn’t approve) Move the earth, they'll learn…

I had to learn to be the only one believing in me And ever since she's gone, I can hardly stand it (Mum says I can stand it) No one understanding (Don’t quite understand it) The thing she saw in me

And dad, he just wants me to be practical She’d call me her rebel without applause and tell me Just keep making noise, always play in your own key I will wait patiently He may believe in me but not my choice They will have no choice but to love me

Where we going fellas? Where we going? To the toppermost of the poppermost!

Liverpool has no idea what’s coming Liverpool will never be the same They’ll put up posters of us Like on this truck John, that’s a bus! Put your glasses on, Jesus! And dad will be non-plussed when Walking down the street he’ll see John (John), Paul, George (George) of the… Johnny and the Moondogs… What! Definitely not. The Shoes! The Quarrymen… Nononononono, JaPaGe3!

Insert band name here.

Liverpool has no idea what’s coming Liverpool will never be the same When they all see us one as three the blasphemous song trinity.

Everybody’s bitching Where’s that old ambition That got you essay prizes and into the institute? I’m not a delinquent I’ve just been rethinking No one realizes I’m still just as resolute Just keep making noise Always play in your own key They will have no choice But to love me

Anything I set my mind to The heights I’ll climb to My time soon Anything to prove I’m worth it Move the earth They’ll learn from me.

Where we going, fellas? Where we going? Where we going, Johnny? Where we going, fellas? Where we going? (To the topper-most of popper-most of popper, to the topper) And where do I fit in and when do I come in? Toppermost of the poppermost.

#the beatles #beatles #you would not believe how much time went into this lmao #or maybe you would #GOOODNESSS #main-tagging this. I've Earned It!#also sry if the colours are fucked up it's tumblr's fault not mine I corrected this twice already #my voice #fiona.docx #fic #friends.jpg

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bluebellofbakerstreet · 9 days

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A-Z Sherlock Fan Fiction Tropes Bingo

Many thanks to @swissmissing for creating this bingo card! Because I'm like that, I decided to go for a blackout bingo! And because, even as I was typing these, I kept thinking of more wonderful fics that would fit the brief, I hope to fill in my bingo card again. Writers are amazing and deserve to be lauded, and I have left off so many amazing fics and authors. Besides, we all need fic recs. 💙

AU/Amnesia The Murder of Emory J Amat by chriscalledmesweetie. Sherlock and John in 1920's AgathaChristieLand. It's a WIP but is currently updating weekly. (52k, T)

BDSM/Bodyswap - Certain Skills by NoStraightLine. John expressly told Sherlock that if he stole his gun again he’d get the fucking he was asking for. Sherlock “Boundaries Are Boring” Holmes stole John’s gun. (3k, E)

Crossover/Crack - Repo Men by Anyawen. In which Mrs Turner's married ones are James Bond and Q. Q is kidnapped; everybody is a BAMF. (7k, G)

Domestic/Disability A Building of Bridges by pengke. Alternate first meeting. No one would ever send Sherlock in to defuse a stand-off; but on one unlikely day, that’s exactly what happened. “Congratulations, Lestrade,” he called out sarcastically. “You’re traumatizing a war veteran.” (11k, G)

Established Relationship/Enemies to Lovers - Interview by bluebellofbakerstreet. In which the boys are in an 80's punk band, and are being interviewed by Rolling Stone. (2k, G)

Future/Fluff 50. Be You - No one Else Can by KittenKin. John's had a bad day and Sherlock doesn't know how to help. They both feel better at the end, and you will, too. (1k, G)

Gen/Genderswap - The Art of Communication by stillwaters01. Lestrade is receiving odd texts from Sherlock; he reads between the lines and brings help. (2k, T)

Historical/Humor - Acceptable Behavior by bbcatemysoul. Sherlock isn't really sure why John wants to shag him, but he's certain that if he's careful to behave properly about it, John can be persuaded to keep doing it. (3k, M)

Illness/imprisonment - Radioactive Trees in a Red Forest by Maribor_Petrichor. Harrowing account of John's battle with mental health issues and addiction after - you know - everything. (280k, E)

Jealousy/Jilted - Hungry by LipstickDaddy. John can't figure out why Sherlock is being so nice to that new guy working with the yard. (7k, G)

Kids/Kink - The Alchemy of Sea Glass by reveling_in_mayhem. Salt and air and sand surrounded their little party of three. Crashing waves, gull cries, and the exhilarated exclamations of an excited three-year-old served as the soundtrack to a day filled with blue skies and bright sunshine. (22k, E)

Long/Love Triangle The Edinburgh Problem by snorklepie. “A nice holiday, just a bit more...murdery. ” John said drily. “Yes! The best kind of holiday!” Sherlock beamed. “So we won’t get bored!” (152k, E)

Magical Realism/Major Character Death Left by LifeonMars. John Watson is left-handed. He’s tried not to let it affect his life, but as any Lefty knows, that’s almost impossible. (45k, M)

NSFW/Next Gen. Warzone by abundantlyqueer. Three smutty stories that pick up where the first two episodes left off. (13k, E)

Omegaverse/Only One Bed - Scars Don't Lie by CumberCurlyGirl. The prospect of going undercover as husbands to a couples retreat is just too enticing to refuse. (33k, M)

Parenthood/Platonic The Man With the Cartier Frames by JRow. Sherlock's top priority is The Work, just as it's always been ... in between trips to Putney to help with Rosie, collecting Rosie from school, and preparing for Rosie's sleepover at Baker Street. (32k, T)

Queer/Quest Dance With Me by TotallySilverGirl. Sherlock's queer quest for johnlock requires dancing, and some help from Sally Donovan. (28k, E)

Retirement/Road Trip - The Winter Garden by Callie4180. As Sherlock nears the end of his career, he's given the gift of a cottage in Sussex. The honey from the beehives out back is amazing. Almost...magical. (31k, T)

Soulmates/Slow Burn Soul Mate by Mottlemoth. Mystrade. The words appeared on Mycroft's arm aged fourteen. He's now lived with the unfortunate words all his life, not certain that he even wishes to meet his soul mate if that's how the man talks. (4k, T)

Teen AU/Time Travel - The Curious Adventure of the Drs Watson by ShinySherlock. What if ACD Watson and BBC Watson switched places? (40k, M)

Undercover/Unrequited - Last Call at the Homesick Pub by Chryse. During the hiatus, Sherlock is both undercover and suffering from unrequited love. (3k, T)

Vampires/Villain POV - Nine Tenths of the Law by bendingsignpost. John knows what's his - of course he'll kill for it. (Modern vampire AU) (18k, M)

Whump/Werewolves When Your Belly’s in the Trench by Morgan_Stuart. The next time that door opens, John Watson will kill the person on the other side. (4k, T)

Xenomorphism/Xmas - Ghost Stories by SwissMiss. Sherlock's parents think he and John are a couple. They might be onto something. (22k, M)

Zombies/Zoomorphism - Aim for the Head by Breath4Soul. Sometimes you don't really find yourself until everything has ended.A fic about finding love, healing, and purpose after everything has gone to hell. Still a WIP, but worth it. (44k, M)

#fic recs #I reserve the right to interpret categories as I see fit #writers are amazing

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lightninginapuddle · 4 months

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Blackbeard's musical theme S1 vs S2 observations

I've been rewatching the show recently to find the scenes where Blackbeard's Theme is used, and here are some observations I can share with those interested. I'm not going to get technical or anything, just pinpoint some things I found interesting in the use of that theme in the context of the show, the characters, and the scenes it appears in.

Just so you have it in your ears, this is Blackbeard’s Theme. When I searched for scenes, I was looking for a specific leitmotif that derives from the very beginning of that linked song: the 3 held, rumbly, low notes (E, G and D#/Eb in that order), or a variation of that pattern. In the show, this main theme is often followed by strings playing a high-pitched sustained harmony with fast repeated notes (that or maybe these are long slow strokes with lots of vibrato, you tell me, I don't play a string instrument).

The theme is meant to be menacing.

My observations under the cut, sorry it's a little messy!

- Season 1: the theme is introduced by Izzy in A Damned Man and last heard in a scene with Ed in Wherever You Go, There You Are. The theme is never played for anyone else but them throughout season 1.

- Season 2: the theme is reintroduced by Ed at the wedding in Impossible Birds, and we last hear it at the beginning of Izzy’s death scene in Mermen.

- Contrary to season 1, the theme also appears with the crew when they are fighting with each other in Fun and Games, and with Lucius when he's alone and holding the wooden shark in The Curse of the Seafaring Life. The theme we hear in the scene with the crew is a variation from the original theme.

Some analysis could be drawn from this, such as Blackbeard's poison leaking out of Izzy and Ed and contaminating the crew and reflecting in the way their trauma is portrayed on screen. The theme being heard with lucius is particularly interesting to me, though I'm still trying to form my analysis of this. Maybe because the shark is a physical embodiment of Blackbeard to Izzy? And thus the essence of Blackbeard is transferred to that wooden shark? Who knows, your guess is as good as mine.

- Season 1: the theme is in 21 scenes in 5 episodes only (2,3,4,6 and 10). I’d argue that Izzy is the driving force of the theme in at least half of these scenes (12/21 vs Ed 9/21) as he carries the threatening essence of the theme.

- More than half of those appearances are in only 2 episodes: The Art of Fuckery (7 scenes) and Discomfort in a Married State (5 scenes), but never less than 3 scenes per episode for the other episodes.

- Season 1: we don't hear the theme in The Best Revenge is Dressing Well, This is Happening, We Gull Way Back and Act of Grace. It's interesting to note that, apart from Act of Grace, Izzy and Ed don't interact at all in those episodes.

- Season 2: 14 scenes in 6 episodes (1,2,3,4,5,8). The theme centers a lot more around Ed. At first because he's lost in the persona of Blackbeard and carries the threatening essence of the theme, and then because his fractured vision of himself is mending back with the Kraken and Ed to become one by the end of the season.

- 11 of those scenes are in 3 episodes: Impossible Birds and Mermen (4 scenes each) and Fun and Games (3 scenes). We hear the theme in only one scene for the other three episodes.

- Season 2: similarly, we don't hear the theme at all in Calypso's Birthday and Man on Fire. Maybe signifying the healing amongst everyone involved with Blackbeard? Ed is turning poison into positivity and the crew is healing and embracing him back, and similarly Izzy is embracing his own self-discovery rather than focusing on Blackbeard. In Man on Fire, Blackbeard seems to have become something of the past, especially symbolised with Ed throwing his leathers in the ocean.

- Season 1: the theme is recognizable from one scene to the other, sometimes changing the melody of the motif a little bit, sometimes it’s instrumentalized a little differently (a piano instead of a cello for example), sometimes the motif is only one or two notes, but it mostly stays the same throughout the season.

- The only two times I can think of when the theme is the most “different” is in 1) The Art of Fuckery, when Ed is doing a fuckery with fireworks and descending from the sky with a harness. There, the theme mirrors the theatricality of the scene; 2) the very last time we hear the theme in Wherever You Go, There You Are, when Ed keeps Jim and Frenchie on his crew. The theme is sped up, more colorful and rhythmically more dynamic. To me, it symbolises the change in Blackbeard's persona as someone a lot less stable and more dangerous.

- Season 2: still mostly the same theme but it shapeshifts a lot more. The range gets broader, getting more and more high pitched, to the point of being shrill at times, which contrasts a lot with the low, rumbling sound of the cello we're so used to hearing, the main melody has more variations (with the crew in Fun and Games, with Izzy in Fun and Games and Mermen) and it even appears very distorted when Buttons is talking to a bound Ed in Fun and Games. Interestingly, the theme appears in more distinctly different variations in Fun and Games than any other episode, when every one is dealing with the brunt of their trauma.

- Season 2: when Ed is pointing his gun at the crew then at himself in Impossible Birds, the theme is the most shrill we've ever heard as the tension rises, with the same sustained harmony from the original motif played at a very high pitch and doesn't cease to be played until Izzy yells and the music completely stops. It picks back up once Ed shoots him, and the lower range of the theme emerges as well with the shrill harmony.

- Season 2: When we hear the theme with Ed by himself in Mermen, it's never heard on its own anymore. We hear it partnered with the Kraken theme and/or Gnossienne n°5. BUT the theme is pretty much in its original form and at that point in the season, we haven't heard it like that since Impossible Birds (if I'm not mistaken).

- Season 1: This happens only once, where the echo of Blackbeard's theme quickly morphs into Gnossienne when Stede realizes that maybe Ed does fancy a fine fabric in Discomfort In A Married State. (And no, I’m not taking the Kraken Theme followed by Gnossienne in The Art of Fuckery into account, as I’m only focusing on Blackbeard’s Theme here).

- Season 2: Let me also point out that we don't hear the theme with Ed after his discussion with Buttons in Fun and Games, and it's so fractured and distorted that it's hard to recognize at all. We hear it with the crew, Izzy and Lucius but not Ed until Mermen. And it comes back in Mermen following Pop Pop telling Ed to go back to what he is good at. This time however, what he's good at is not only being Blackbeard but channeling all the parts of himself to protect others.

- Also, as mentioned before, Izzy has a strong connection to the theme in season 1 but not nearly as much in season 2, if at all. The theme really is his in 2, arguably 3, scenes even though he is present in more than those two scenes (6/14). Now this is my interpretation, you're free to make your own, but I tend to analyze this as him losing control over Blackbeard, especially at the beginning of the season where we can see how he doesn’t know how to stop the spiral Ed is in. Izzy wanted Blackbeard and not Edward but it resulted in him having neither. And the disappearance of the theme with Izzy also symbolises that, Blackbeard doesn’t belong to him anymore. It's even more clear when we consider how Izzy was a driving force to the theme in season 1 or at least Ed and Izzy shared the theme somewhat equally -though in Izzy's favor (12 for Izzy, 9 for Ed)-, yet in season 2, 9 scenes out of 14 are all Ed compared to Izzy's 2/3.

- When the theme is heard with him again, Izzy is at his lowest point mentally. He's lost his leg and throws the unicorns ones to the feet of the crew before falling down and crawling away while the crew watches him move away with concern and pity. I personally think the theme coming back in that moment is some sort of reckoning for Izzy, and the theme is a variation of the original one too. Izzy fully faces what pushing for Blackbeard to keep existing cost him and he's having a hard time coping with it.

- The last two times we hear the theme with him after that, are: when he talks to Ricky, and the theme turns almost positive, hopeful even, maybe Izzy is allowing Blackbeard to be something positive instead of negative, paralleling Ed doing the same as he embraces all the parts of himself? Then, as a last echo, the final nail in the coffin so to speak, the theme shows up at the very beginning of Izzy's death scene. Here, the theme is higher pitched than the original version of it, and feels tight, strained and weak, almost paralleling Izzy holding onto life.

Feel free to draw your own conclusions if you even read all of that. That was a lot of rambles, sorry!

#ofmd #our flag means death #no one will care but eh #ofmd music #ofmd meta #ofmd analysis #feel free to correct me as well I might have missed A LOT of stuff #but this is at the top of my head for now #might add some stuff later on #my gifs

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nothinghereisworking · 8 months

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Memories, Like Grains of Sand

Elrond and Elros remember their lives before the sack of Sirion.

G, Gen, 1,000 words [AO3]

Elwing-positive (and let's just say 'late for @sindarweek' for good measure) - Inspired by @imakemywings ... and cats. Thank you @polutrope for the beta.

__________________________________________________________

Elrond remembers petting the cats which were ever-present on the docks. Sometimes they would be caught stealing from the fishing boats, but more often they contended with the gulls to feast on the cast-offs, or prowled the grain stores for rats. He would sit with his legs dangling over the dock, a black-and-white cat curled up beside him, and watch into the sunset for the silver sails of Vingilot to herald his father’s return.

Elros remembers the seaweed dishes on the table, now wondering how they came to be such a staple. Neither Doriath nor Gondolin would have had fresh seaweed. He missed it when they were taken by the Fëanorians, and it was only sometimes available during the War.

“Círdan?” Elrond offers.

“I doubt he was helping the cook,” Elros counters.

“But he would have been sending supplies,” Elrond says. He thinks for a moment. “She made better lembas, too.”

“Better than who?” Elros asks.

“Anybody,” Elrond says after a minute rather than admit he does not know who made those they ate during the War.

They fall silent again, toes dangling in the water. The wind is a familiar cold; it is not strong today but is heavy with the scent of the sea. The incoming tide curls around the barnacle-covered piers, bringing little jellyfish with it.

“I remember Mother crying at night, when she thought we couldn’t hear,” Elros whispers.

Elrond nods. He would cry then, too, sometimes. “Or she would be at the window, praying to the Lord of Waters for Papa to come home.”

Elros nods.

Sometimes it was hard to look at the Star and remember it was their father and not their mother. That light was so familiar to them, warm and comforting like her arms had been. It was comforting now, to know his search had finally ended.

“Like the quilt she made us,” Elros murmurs.

“I forgot about the quilt,” Elrond admits, eyes going wide as the image of it springs to mind. “It was green-”

“It was blue,” Elros interrupts.

“I remember it being green,” Elrond says.

“You didn’t even remember it a minute ago,” Elros insists, giving Elrond a playful push.

It had been both, sewn with the many colors of the sea, and it shimmered like the delta at sunrise.

“I suppose it was lost, like everything else,” Elrond says, staring down at the water and wondering how he had ever forgotten it.

Elros says nothing.

“I remember the little model of Vingilot,” Elrond says. “Do you remember Father carving it? He even gave it a sail from a little scrap of the real one.”

Elros scrunches his brow, trying to recall such a thing. He could well recall the ship, but he did not remember a model of it.

“I remember a horse,” he says at last. “It had a little rider that could come off.”

Elrond stills and bites his lip, wondering for a moment if he should say it. “I think Maglor made that,” he murmurs.

“Oh.”

They both fall silent then, for those memories are far too complicated for today. The wind has grown colder and the water is up to their ankles now. The boards of the pier are smooth from years of wear, and Elrond rubs his hand over their surface. So many memories here. He will have cats, he decides. Wherever he goes, he will have cats with fine Sindarin names who will get fat on kitchen scraps and will not need to fight the gulls for their dinner.

“I still miss her so much,” Elrond says, and wipes quickly at the tears which well in his eyes.

Elros squeezes his hand tight and resists his own falling. “Squid,” he says as a distraction. “We had squid once. Maybe more than once, but I remember it once.”

Elrond laughs a little at that. “I don’t think I believed her when she said that was what we were eating.”

“You believed everything she said,” Elros says, though immediately regrets it when Elrond’s face drops.

“I did,” he admits. “But being wrong is not the same as lying.” It had taken him a while to accept that. To accept that when she told them they would be safe, or that their father would come home soon, that it was as much her own need to believe it.

Elrond finally looks back at the charred remains of Sirion. A few homes built on stilts over the water remain, though fallen to disrepair and the elements in the years since. But the rest of the haven is long gone, black and ash among a stone graveyard. Still, they both remember this was where their house once stood, its supports half-burnt, fallen timbers covered with silt and rockweed beneath the waters.

Elros looks up, wishing the clouds would blow away so he could see the sky that night. He remembers laying in the hammock and looking at the stars. He thinks he remembers their father teaching them their names in two languages. How he wishes those memories were clearer, but he is not even sure he remembers what their father looked like any longer.

“You will come and visit, won’t you?” Elros asks finally, the question he has been avoiding asking for weeks now.

Elrond looks horrified at the question. “Of course!”

“You’ll…” Elros chokes a little. “And you’ll tell her I loved her? That we - I - didn’t hate her?”

Elrond can no longer hold back and lets out a sob, hugging Elros. He does not know when he will ever see their mother again, but he promises, he swears on the very Star that sails overhead that he will tell her. Even if it takes ten thousand years, he will carry that message.

He swears it again four and a half centuries later, when he kisses Elros on his brow and promises to always carry their half-cobbled childhood memories with him.

“It was green,” he whispers, if only to see Elros smile one last time.

#elrond #elros #elwing positive #sindar positive #sindarweek #tolkien fanfiction #author: cuarthol

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psikonauti · 11 months

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Gull G. (Pakistani)

Lahore Wazir Khan Mosque, 2023

Oil on canvas

#Gull G.#upl #va #art #painting #photorealism

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buttercup-yoi · 9 months

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I don't think this short piece is worth posting on AO3, and it isn't part of a larger fic at this time. Tumblr seems like a good place to post?

***

Fandom: Yuri!! on Ice Rating: G Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Yuuri Character Study Summary: On your sixteenth birthday, it's traditional to write a letter to your soulmate. Yuuri struggles.

Yuuri’s mind is blank, like the paper before him.

A letter to his soulmate seems about as real as a letter to Santa Claus, but he has to write something, if only to avoid disappointing his parents.

Hello. I don’t think you’re real.

No, that’s not right.

Yuuri sets down his pen again and looks out the window. Darkness, crickets chirping; it’s late, even for him. He pushes his glasses up and buries his head in his arms, willing the right words to come.

Hello. The thought of you makes me want to run into the sea.

Not very romantic.

It’s a flaw, taking things too seriously. Agonizing over tasks that others brush through with ease. That’s part of the reason Yuuri has such a hard time connecting with others. He doesn’t want to make the wrong move, to show off his weak side.

It’s not insecurity. Yuuri is aware of his own strength as an athlete, and his academic performance is good too. He doesn’t consider himself particularly ugly or especially beautiful; a fair middle-ground.

Hello.

Outside the window, gulls call to each other, and in the distance he can hear the crash of ocean waves.

I’m not perfect, but I will work to surprise you. If your heart is like mine, I hope you will understand.

Yuuri folds up the paper and dutifully sets it underneath his pillow.

#yuri on ice #yoi #fic #my fic #katsuki yuuri

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ginneke · 1 year

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I am blaming @genderfluidsheik, this post, and my nearest and dearest crew of enablers for this. (@heleentje, @coconi, @lyingpink yes i’m talking about you.)

Pairing: Link/Revali

Wordcount: ~1100

not beta read we die like the champions dIDNT

(cn for implied offscreen sexual content, in line with the post that inspired it.)

edit: as of 1st Feb, this fic is also available on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/44710534

It didn't look right.

He couldn't quite say why, or how, until he stepped back, stood on a certain rock at just such an angle, and squinted at it anew. The entrance, from this angle, was ever so slightly asymmetrical.

Only a little bit, but all the same, it had a decided lean that rankled as he studied it. He circled the structure, trying to determine where, and when, the wobble had entered into the woven fronds that formed the start of a doorway. Depending on where it was, he could either focus on perfecting the frame of the doorway, or else be forced to start it anew.

"Everybody's first attempt is clumsy," people in the village would say. Perhaps for most people it would be true.

But not for Revali.

He couldn't settle for anything short of perfection.

...Though he'd reworked it enough times, by this point, that it could not truly be counted as a first attempt.

The fault lay about halfway up on the left hand side, which was far enough down that he could feasibly attempt to rework it without dismantling the rest. He studied it, wondering whether it would be acceptable to only attempt to fix it from the point where the flaw he'd identified began. After all, there was every chance that he would start correcting it, only to find that he'd inadvertently misidentified the flaw, and the true fault had some deeper cause. And yet...

Yet the prickling feeling of urgency was upon him again. He had to fix it, and soon. Overhead, shadows wheeled and swooped. Some of them were small enough to only be the silhouettes of gulls against the wide expanse of sky. Some were larger.

He tensed, staring at the circling form of a challenger high overhead, brown and cream wings standing out stark against the sky. The wingspan was too broad to belong to anyone but a challenger. Revali watched with caution. There was every likelihood that the figure overhead would spot him, recognise him, and choose to find some other place, recognising this one as being beyond their ability to claim. That would be the sensible thing to do.

But instead, they continued to circle, and then they started to dip into a slow, careful dive.

A mistake. Normally, the skies gave the upper hand: to many a challenger, the benefits of height and wind combined to ensure that they could, if they chose, command a significant advantage. But Revali was not most Rito. Revali reached for his Gale and lauched himself skyward, a shriek of rage tumbling from his throat. This was HIS spot, and he was not going to concede it to an upstart whose strategy for bower-building consisted of trying to spook someone else out of a prime location.

If that was the route they planned to take, they could try it on somebody far less skilled or alert than him.

For a challenger, they proved quite the coward. Once Revali demonstrated, most ably, that he had a superior command of the sky, he swiftly harried them out of his territory the way that common sense dictated a sky-holding interloper usually would. It only went to show that he'd claimed this spot fairly, and defended it well. It was a good spot, and one that he in no way intended to concede.

Even if the soil was discomfortingly loose and sandy beneath one's feet, and he'd had to spend more time than he cared to weaving strips of palm leaves into mats to line the floor of the bower, though they'd been a definite improvement.

Still, he circled his island until satisfied that the disappearing figure was indeed in full retreat. Sometimes, after all, people would feign the loss, only to double back as soon as the defending territory-holder's guard had dropped. But Revali had soundly defeated their confidence, and sent them packing. They wouldn't be bothering him again.

.......It was just as well, he realised, when he landed back on that same rock. The bower hadn't withstood the swirling column of his Gale, and the lean of the doorway had become so pronounced as to now sag. Half of the left wall was completely blown away, as well.

That solved his quandary, at least. Fixing the entire thing was indeed the better course of action. It was preposterous that he'd even considered otherwise.

Hours later, the entrance was looking considerably improved and Revali was circling the bower again, scrutinising it for any sign of a flaw. This time, there was none. It was, indeed, perfect.

Which was to say, it was adequate enough. It would suffice, at least. He stepped inside and looked at the roof, the thick waxy leaves which he'd successfully corralled into some form of order, and was satisfied that they would keep any rains at bay.

Somewhere close by, a twig snapped under somebody's foot. Revali stepped to the entrance and looked outside.

A pair of blue eyes, framed by the colour of golden sands, stared back at him.

Revali tilted his head, regarding the approaching figure. This wasn't, necessarily, an intruder, or at least he didn't think so. Though it remained to be seen if...

He took a step outside the bower, shaking his wings out. He knew just what effect the rays of the setting sun would have on them, the way the light would catch and shift across the surface of his feathers in brilliant iridescence. His plumage was to be envied. Few could boast such a depth of hue and lustre, though the figure approaching him mustered an attempt at an answer.

The sun caught on gold and turned it to fire, most appealingly.

The approaching figure stopped short of him. His eyes, blue as midday sky, looked at Revali like they were trying to decipher him. Which just meant that Revali surely had to do something to prove himself as a prospect, right?

Except he wasn't sure how to do that.

He settled for circling the man, head canted to one side. The bower had to count for something, right? He'd built it well; there were no irregularities to be found. Someone would have to be very picky indeed to overlook the painstaking effort that had gone into it.

But as Revali circled him, he didn't seem like he intended to give any form of answer.

Agitated, Revali moved a step away. He tipped his head further to the side--though the man hadn't answered him, neither had he left, so there was still every chance that he might...

Might what?

As if this person had acknowledged any effort of Revali's in the past.

And yet Link's head tilted in an unmistakeable answer. Enough that Revali felt a fresh stirring of confidence, aided by the way Link leaned towards him...

---

When morning spilled its light across the surface of the sea, the rising dawn pulling Revali with it and gradually illuminating the bare-shouldered (and bare.... most everywhere) Hylian tangled up in his wings, Revali looked at the situation anew, and thought:

....Ah.

#revalink #revalink fic #botw fic #revali #revali botw #link botw #i wrote this in about an hour and it's only had a minimal proofread #I hope it's fun to read anyway #may post on ao3 later #ginnefic #the intricate rituals of building a bower and hoping your rival will like it

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cherryjuicegf · 2 years

Text

to my lover from another life

For how many lives does a romance last? (All of them, is the answer).

for @samstree the happiest of birthdays to you you're a star ♡ || 2.5k, G, fluff, amnesia from old age, reincarnation [ao3]

As he gazes at Jaskier from afar, he is reminded of a painting.

There he is, in his bright yellow doublet, as though the setting sun has left a piece of it behind to lead the way, sitting in the middle of the deck among the boats with scribbled names. The sunset glows around him and on the sea, lining his posture with the brightest of oranges and pinks and reds, like the painter could not decide on a single hue to depict the beauty of the landscape.

A small smile curves Geralt’s lips. Of course they could not decide.

He approaches with small steps, light with this feeling of calmness he rarely lets overwhelm him in life. But now the deck is so quiet and the faintest of waves are rocking the boats and echoing on the shore. In the distance, a last sea gull chases the fading daylight.

The deck creaks as he walks and Jaskier turns to look at him. As though he was expecting him, a wide grin forms on his face. “Geralt,” he says and Geralt prays his name is as beautiful as the poet makes it sound. “Come, sit with me.” He looks happy. Geralt could never refuse.

He thinks he must pay more attention every time Jaskier’s smile is so genuinely happy. A voice in his head whispers that it’s less often than he thinks.

He sits beside him, limbs dangling alongside his though far less wildly, and looks at the notebook on his lap. “What are you writing?” he asks and this too he should ask more often.

Not that Jaskier doesn’t tell him anyway.

Only, perhaps, to see the way his blue eyes light up at the question and his cheeks almost blush, or it’s just the sunset. Both are equally beautiful on him.

Jaskier hums in pleasure and straightens his posture as if to recite. “This, my friend, is going to make one of my greatest ballads. I can feel it. It is already my favourite.”

Geralt chuckles. “You say that at least once a month.”

“Hush,” Jaskier laughs and nudges him softly on the arm. Then suddenly his voice becomes quieter ever so slightly, a change only Geralt could ever hear. “This is different.”

“How so?”

The poet stares at him for a couple of seconds and his eyes are somehow brighter than before in their wistfulness, like looking in a mirror and seeing more on the reflection than there already is. And he just can’t grasp it. “Because of the story, of course.” His words echo gently like the waves. “It’s the story of my lover from another life.”

The sky is on fire, swimming in his gaze and painting his hair golden, then red. Geralt longs to run his fingers through them. From this close, he can count the few freckles on his cheeks.

A low hum escapes his throat. “What are they like?” he says and hears Jaskier’s heart beating faster as though thankful for indulging him. Little he knows Geralt is indulging his own hope.

Hope that in another life, maybe, it would have been easier. It would have been him.

Jaskier heaves a deep sigh and lets his shoulders slump. While he speaks, the smile on his face becomes sweeter still. “Oh, a miracle, really. Makes you forever grateful to have met them,” and Geralt thinks how anyone could ignite this feeling except for Jaskier himself. The poet glances at him with the corner of his eye. “They are… My lover is kind and sweet and gentle, although they manage to hide that well when they need to, when life needs them too. And, gods, they are so strong. And funny, they make me laugh even without trying,” he huffs, shakes his head. “They make me happy by simply existing.”

It is what you deserve , Geralt wants to say but he doesn’t, so eager now to learn how Jaskier is loved.

“My lover… Well, I know them like the back of my hand, and they know me. They can read me with a single look, and it takes a simple touch to take my breath away.” Jaskier looks at him smiling, and Geralt hears his breath hitching. “They are beautiful, so beautiful when laughing, when they concentrate, when they sleep, so that I can stare at them forever. And patient, and wise although a little dense sometimes,” he laughs. He is so captivating when he laughs. “And despite everything, they know how to love. How to make me feel loved with a single gesture, a single glance. And then I know that, finally, I belong there, by their side. But most of all…” He hasn’t torn his eyes away from Geralt, gazes locked together as though the lingering rays have wrapped themselves around them. Jaskier swallows, voice even softer than before. “Most of all my lover is a good person.”

Geralt can feel his breath stroking his face warm and there is something so peaceful and honest about the way Jaskier talks. So loving that he dreams of that life, dreams of what it would be like. To be loved by him.

There is something so tempting about Jaskier’s lips, he realizes now maybe for the millionth time.

But he is frozen and the sun has set and Jaskier shivers suddenly, as though waking from a dream of his own, and lowers his head. “You picked a good moment,” he laughs, almost tentatively. “You see I…” He raises his look to the sea. “I love him so much I can’t even put it in words sometimes.” Another laugh. “Me!”

It is too difficult to look away from him. Geralt decides to keep staring. “He sounds like he loves you as much. You are lucky.”

Jaskier smiles and looks at him. “Oh, I am!” Then he clears his throat and his smile fades, voice quieter. “I am.”

A hand, beside his. Warm. Tingling.

“Sometimes I wish there was another life,” Geralt says before he can think and maybe it is the breeze that makes his words flow, maybe the longing that is choking him and he aches to let it spill down his lips. “One where we could make things different.”

He shouldn’t wish for it. He wouldn’t. But he cannot help but hope that maybe, given another chance, he would be less of a coward and he would get to stroke Jaskier’s hair, and pull it behind his ear. Maybe even kiss him.

Jaskier chuckles beside him and now he sounds merrier than before. Gentler. “I think we have plenty of time in this one.”

Maybe. Maybe they do. Geralt takes a deep breath and turns to look at the sea, hoping he will find comfort on the way it resembles Jaskier’s eyes. He wants to imagine another life. But then again, Jaskier may not be in that one. And he may remember anyway. And how could he ever live on his memory alone?

Suddenly, he is afraid. “Do you think there is another one though?”

But instead of an answer he just hears a scoff and a laugh and something along the lines of goddamn dense before he feels a hand on his face and turns around, and Jaskier is kissing him.

Jaskier is kissing him. And oh, his lips are so sweet and soft and careful as though he himself is ready to let go and Geralt can’t help but kiss him back, can’t help but keep him close, closer than ever. And there between breaths and smiles and the breeze that cannot break through them, there he finds that their lips fit so well, like puzzle pieces. Like their cracks were made to flood each other.

Like he has done it before, and he always knew how.

Jaskier pulls away, grin impossibly wider and now this is it, now he is happy. And Geralt knows that he only can compete with any other lover, in this or another life, but he is more than willing to love even harder to win.

“I think,” the poet says, words barely coming out, “that even if there is one, we will be together anyway.” A smirk then, cunning. “You can’t escape me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Geralt laughs and kisses him again.

—

“Tell me, witcher, did you ever marry?”

Geralt averts his gaze from the dancing fire of the hearth and looks at the man on the armchair beside him. And he looks and looks and there is this hollowness where once it would have been his heart but then again what more could he ask for now, now that the man’s hair is grey and the laugh lines of his face are carved just a little too deep, and his blue eyes are only loving because a distant instinct seems to lighten them so.

What more could he ask for now except sitting beside him silent even when he has so much love to spare yet?

A small smile curves his lips and is met with a cunning look. Oh, he hasn’t changed a bit. Not really.

“I have a story,” Geralt says and his voice is quivering but he pays no mind. He mustn’t now. Only, as he speaks, he feels like searching for the right paper sheets through the drawers of his heart and it hurts to pull them out, but here they are. “About a lover from another life.”

Laughter, silent and kind. “Heavens. I didn’t think you were the talkative type.”

Geralt chuckles and shakes his head. He really is not. But there is not much he can do to retain the memory. “Well, he is. He talks all the time, about everything and nothing at once.” He takes a deep breath. “He has a way with words, such that when his eyes darken in thought and you truly listen to what he says, you can fall in love over and over again, with every word. And when,” a laugh, choked, “when he doesn’t speak he looks at me in a way nobody has ever looked in my whole life and even though I was always supposed to protect myself… There is no safer place than his eyes.”

A pair of blue eyes is staring at him now, curious and content. “You are lucky, then.” The voice is hushed.

Geralt swallows down the lump at his throat and nods. “Oh, I am. Even more, when I get to hold him. When he lies beside me and traces my arms and makes me proud of a skin that I always wanted to crawl out of.” His hand aches to hold on to something too far away. “He is always like this. Calling me out when I have always known how to stay hidden. As though he has entered my soul and stumbled on it, and it started spilling out.

“Do you miss him?”

The fire cackles and it’s funny, really, how he does and does not at the same time, how he knows he will. How he still hopes for more time. Foolish. “I do,” he admits and cannot bear to raise his look. “But it doesn’t matter. We had plenty of time, and I am grateful for it.”

I think we have plenty of time in this one.

They did. But Geralt doubts there will be a day when his chest doesn’t ache with all the love remaining inside, and gods, it never ends. He doesn’t want it to end.

Only now he bares it in pieces. In a cup of tea, a blanket for the cold, the fire of the hearth. A caress, sometimes, when it’s dark. And he could, if he had to, he could do this forever even with the memory of another life, and if he had to he would build it again every day from the start, and never get tired. He does. Because again he is met with that smile, and it is always like the first time, like then.

And what more could he ask for now?

Suddenly he remembers how the sunset painted blue eyes and raises his head. “Jaskier, “ he says, just to say something, just to feel the taste of his name and see these eyes look at him and have him fall in love, again and again.

But Jaskier is already asleep.

—

A man drags the chair and sits on the coffee table across him with the widest grin on his face.

Geralt wonders if this is his way of approaching strangers but he was never one for social cues anyway. Still, he rolls his eyes and glares at the man who seems not to have the faintest hesitance in his gestures. “I’m here to drink alone,” he says and tries to get rid of him with the power of will and a scary stare.

The man throws his head back laughing. That’s unusual.

Then immediately as though realizing what Geralt thinks he would like to know, he clears his throat. Yet the smile remains. Geralt would be lying if he said he had seen a more charming smile. “Okay, broody,” the man smirks and it’s getting under Geralt’s skin but not in an exactly annoying way. “The thing is,” he leans forwards on the table, “you’ve been staring at me for ten minutes and have not taken a single sip of your coffee. Or drink. Or whatever, anyway.”

“Hmm.”

The man raises his eyebrows expectantly. Geralt squints at him. Well, perhaps it is true. Perhaps he has been staring and perhaps even now he is unable to tear his gaze away because this man makes something in his heart stumble and his palms sweat and now, as he looks into his eyes, he thinks he could grow to fall in love easier than he ever has. His eyes that look at him so steadily he feels as though they’re baring him open with their blue and ripping his heart in half and reading all the sheets hidden inside it.

And it’s all just too intimate.

He shakes his head, averts his gaze. “Sorry, it’s just… I thought I knew you from somewhere.”

“Strange.” He looks at the man again as he tilts his head. “I thought the same.” And for a single moment, Geralt can see how his lips quiver as though he is swallowing a million screams all this time and how his eyes glisten with something close to longing. For a single moment. Then, a hand outstretched. “I’m Jaskier. And I have a story for you.”

It’s almost funny. Such that Geralt can’t help but smile and take Jaskier’s hand. He may know him indeed, or he may not. But it is late in the afternoon and he has nothing to do and they have plenty of time to get to know each other now. A voice tells him he would like that.

So he complies. “I’m Geralt. What kind of story?”

Jaskier’s eyes shine with the most striking blue and he smiles wider, blushes. “Oh, my favourite one. It’s the story of my lover from another life.”

#hope you like this little gift<33 #the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #chrysa writes #fic recs #samstree #fluff #amnesia #reincarnation

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elennalore · 1 year

Text

Happy Maglor drabbles

Two drabbles I wrote for @spring-into-arda B2MEM ‘happy Maglor’ side mission. Rated G. The first one is post-canon, and the second one is featuring the kidnap fam.

Joy

That morning Maglor realized something was different. He woke up on the seashore, lit the fire and prepared breakfast for himself. He listened to the sound of gulls, enjoying the light sea breeze and the morning sun. Only when he closed his eyes, he knew what it was. The gulls didn’t sound accusing. The sea didn’t blame him anymore. The guilt and sorrow were still somewhere within, but there was a new feeling, too – something he hadn’t felt since Valinor. Joy.

Joy to be alive – to experience this. He listened to the sounds of the waking world, content at last.

Cinnamon Rolls

A delicious smell of baking came from the kitchen. Maglor went to look. Maedhros was just taking cinnamon rolls out of the oven; the twins were jumping with excitement around him. It was a Dwarven recipe, and Maedhros had wanted to try it out. He smiled at Maglor when he saw him standing in the doorway, watching the domestic scene. Maglor smiled back. He was happy when Maedhros was happy. It had been a good idea to dig around the box they had managed to save from the fall of Himring. Besides, Maglor knew the twins would love the taste.

#b2mem 2023 #maglor #maedhros #kidnap fam #silm ficlet #my drabbles #family fluff

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forthedancingandthethriving · 6 months

Text

Luigi: One time, SMG4 and SMG3 were having a heated argument in the RV, and 3 took 4's tape out of the player and smashed it against the floor in rage.

Luigi: Then 4 looked him dead in the eye, pulled out a second copy of that same tape, and put it back in the player.

----

Cody: I have a bad feeling about this...

Lil Coding: What do you mean?

Cody: Don't you ever get that little voice in your mind that tells you if you're going to get into trouble?

Lil Coding: No?

Cody: That actually explains so much.

----

Manifest: In your opinion, what's the height of stupidity?

Emulator: I'm trying to remember Forum's height..

----

CPU: On a scale of 1 to 10, exactly how much am I going to despise this plan of yours?

Abyssal: I’d say a solid 85.

----

Umbra: What’s it like being tall? Is it nice?

Umbra: Can you reach comfortably for the cuppboards?

CPU: We live in constant fear of the short ones who, in my experience, will climb 4 chairs, 2 boxes, a small coffee table, and 6 oddly placed stools to get what they want.

Buffer: It was one time! And I'm not short!

----

SMG4: I trust Mario.

SMG3: You think he knows what he's doing?

SMG4: I wouldn't go that far.

----

Saiko, fuming: YOU BRIBED HER TO CHEAT ME ON THE GAME!

Bob, calmly setting desserts aside: You call it 'bribing', I call it 'gastrodiplomacy.'

Lily, chewing on a dessert: Look I just wanted extra dessert, ok?

----

Tari: Looks like a hawk...

Saiko: No, a peregrine falcon.

Shroomy: One attacked me as a small child.

Tari: That’s horrifying!

Shroomy, smiling calmly: It did not win.

----

Bob: I was arrested once for being way too handsome.

Meggy: The charges were immediately dropped due to no supporting evidence.

----

Lil Coding: Which country has the most birds? Portu-geese!

Cody: That's a language.

Lil Coding: Portu-gull..?

Elanore: Nice recovery!

Plurality: I think you mean nice re-dovery.

Lil Coding: TURKEY! HOW DID I MISS TURKEY?

----

Tulip: Do you have a favorite?

Juliano: I care about you all equally.

Mario, whispering: Blink if it's me.

----

*An invention of hers went haywire..*

Tulip: Time for plan G!

SMG10: Don’t you mean plan B?

Tulip: No, we tried plan B a long time ago. I had to skip over plan C due to technical difficulties.

Ava: What about plan D?

Tulio: Plan D was that desperate shutdown attempt half an hour ago.

Mia: What about plan E?

Tulip: I’m hoping not to use it. Leo's hairpin gets smashed in plan E.

Tyrus: ...I like plan E.

----

Umbra: You're bound by a Medical Oath! You can't kill me!

Vitality: That solely depends if I took the oath.

----

Elanore: How are you doing?

Plurality: Well, I'm breathing.

Elanore: Setting the bar low, huh?

Plurality: Yeah, well, it’s better than Root.

Root, having a panic attack: I'm gonna kill you.

----

Meggy: I dare you-

Luigi, pulling Mario away: He isn’t allowed to accept dares.

Mario: Apparently I have no regard for my personal safety.

----

Nimbus: Why are your tongues purple?

SMG8: We had slushies. I had a blue one.

SMG9: I had a red one.

Nimbus: Oh! ... OH.

Tama: You drank each others slushies?

----

Overseer, under his breath as Abyssal is pinning him: I want to kiss you.

Abyssal, not paying attention: What?

Overseer, panicking: I said if you die, I won't miss you!

----

SMG4: You do seven things a day that I ask you not to do.

Lil Coding: Actually, I do more. You catch seven.

----

Lily: Can you pass the salt?

SMG3: What’s the magic word?

Lily: Or else!

SMG3: *smiles proudly* Atta girl.

Domain: What are you teaching her?

----

*The Kids trying to help Tama warm up to them*

Tama, giggling: The floor is lava!

Plurality: *helps Elanore onto a bench*

Lily: *kicks Lil Coding off a table*

Sage: As you can see, we know two types of people.

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