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dualisume · 5 months

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|| okey since Taco just pointed a gun toward me in my inbox on what i think furina's constellation are. I'll start first on what i think Animula Choragi is for me.

so animula choragi was translated to Little Souls of Choregos or conductor of little souls. but i did my own research and my thoughts about this is that mihoyo had given two meanings to furina's constellation name and it depicts in her role in the Archon quest ( my thoughts only)

so Animula when looked for definition it really means ' little souls' .

but when we translate choragi it has two meanings. 1. The leader of a group or movement

we can easily say that if we connect this two together it simply means that furina ( animula) (little soul) is the leader (choragi) of the group ( fontaine ) and we can leave it to that but if we use the second meaning of Choragi. It means.

2. One who undertook the expense of providing the chorus in ancient Greek drama or Someone who provides the stage equipment and theater costumes or someone who provides the necessary equipment for the performance of a chorus or an entire play. (or basically the sponsor).

If we added the animula and this meaning of choragi together. The meaning of Animula choragi's translation will change into something like this. "A small soul that provides everything necessary for a performance"

instead of " conductor of little souls"

which makes sense since furina is the one who provides everything for the chorus of the finale in the archon quest. She is the one who sponsored all of the things needed for focalors plan to be full proof. She is the small soul who provided her own self that is necessary -- an offering to the trial, so the chorus of the trial (play) would be a success. she is the one who found neuvilettte, the one who acted as an archon for 500 years , the one who involve traveler -- the one who made sure no secrets will be revealed until the later point.

so yeah my first take is that furina's constellatio name has two different meanings, and it really depicts furina's role on the story quest but we didn't know it just back then.

#/ f u r i n a / - self #/ h e a d c a n o n / - misc.#inundatae #hi its me again and my very love for furina #sorry not sorry if i show how passionate i am to my archon #jlasdfhgsa sorry to if this is hard to understand a bit #i just write this on the spur of the moment #will rewrite this when i feel better to better explain it #orz #did you know i love furina??

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puppetmaster13u · 6 months

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so tempted to do a thing for @phoenixcatch7's possessed doll au Because I am just stuck with this image of B's puppet body being damaged, his gas mask off, and him going straight up Feral. Am I saying I want to draw him mauling the joker? Maybe. Maybe I do. He'd deserve it.

#batman au #dc #dcu #batman #possessed doll au #cryptid batman #Like he'd have to be very pissed so its probably around when Barbara & Jason were injured or whatever happened in thi au #Like I want to say someone straight up tried to blow him up but he's just Not Stopping #I want people to realize he's not stopping and just going to keep coming #I want for like #like they all know the bats aren't human #but I want for it to *really* suddenly sink in #I want the joker to realize he Fucked Up #which i mean in the original comics he knew he fucked up & the next day or two he got diplomatic immunity #because he killed jason as a spur of the moment sort of thing- and afterwards had an Oh Shit moment #Because he just beat Robin and the bat is going to come after him #he canonically blew up the warehouse so the bat wouldn't know it was Him #Bruce Didn't know it was the joker at first #remind me to ramble about this because I want to like #write or draw a scene based off of it

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multicolour-ink · 3 months

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I have some much naughtier Mia and Pio Mario fics. Shall I post them? 🤔😰

#just not sure how my mutes witll react #they are much naughtier and just short fics I wrote in a spur of the moment months ago thst I can easily clean up #super mario #writing #fics #multicolour ink #mia mario #mama mario #pio mario #papa mario

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bladesmitten · 4 months

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“ajax and wyll have a really tough time in act 1, but it’s okay, it’s character development,” i say, knowing damn well the ‘character development’ keeps going in act 2 and especially in act 3

#.txt #help i can't stop putting them in situations.#they have a happy ending i promise theres just a lot of suffering beforehand #and all my gifs and commed art of them are like <3 peace and love <3 #but the reality is they went through literal blood to get there and theyre still going thru it until the end of the game #with little moments of respite in between #but yknow. romance. etc.#this post was spurred on by me writing about the alfira moment and it was just so grim i had to stop writing #how tf am i supposed to redeem this guy <- guy who made the guy #ok good night

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astrobei · 1 year

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wip wfriday to reassure my stonathan mutuals that i have not forgotten about this 🫡

#now that i’m no longer in lockdown for two fics i thought i would have done by (checks calendar) january #it’s time for a couple spur of the moment projects hehe #this might take a sec bc stonathan does not come as natural to me #but they’re so fun to write and i love love love jonathan pov so much #so just bear with me it’s Coming #stonathan #wip wednesday #even tho it’s friday . sorry #steve harrington #jonathan byers

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happyk44 · 8 months

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"I'm not leaving you behind! It is my duty," he hissed. "I swore myself-"

"Your swore yourself because you had no choice, Percy." Her eyes were endless dark, devoid of feeling, of life. "You had a price to pay for your mother's life and this was your only offer." Her thin fingers cup his face through the bars. "You didn't choose to be my protector." She gave a weak laugh that made his stomach plummet to the floor. "You're not even my guard yet, not really."

Like a phantom, her touch slid down his cheek. He caught her wrist before her fingertip stopped gracing his skin. He could feel the rounded edge of her fingernail poke against him. Silence held fraught between them.

"Bianca-"

"Percy," she cut in, voice so sharp it cut him to the core. "I want you to survive. You're free. Take advantage of that, and go. Now."

"I can't go back without you," he said, quickly. She didn't fight his hold, but still his grip tightened. As though the harder he held her, the more she would stop protesting her escape. "You are-"

"Dead." Her lips thinned. "I'm dead, Percy. I was dead the moment they got their hands on me and I will be dead before either one of us even makes it beyond these walls, but you-" Her voice cracked, eyes watering.

He shook his head. Blood pounded in his ears. He didn't want to hear what she was going to say, wanted her to stop, wanted it all to stop. Just for a moment.

But it didn't, and neither did she. With a deep breath, she carried on, "You can make it. You can live. But only if you leave without me, so go."

His lungs burned. She inhaled so deeply, spoke so forcefully, and it made him hold the air in his chest until he couldn't take it anymore. If he didn't breathe, maybe she would. But his chest ached. Self-loathing wedged itself like a rock in his throat as he let go. The sound of his own breath was like nail on chalkboard.

"Percy," she whispered. He shook his head and leaned in closer. Although tears hadn't yet fallen, her eyes were still wet. They glistened like the night sky. Her forehead pressed against the bars.

He looked away. The brick wall to his left was growing a fair bit of moss in the corner. "What's our star again?"

She laughed. It was a watery thing that choked him where he stood. Memories of standing the long grass, moonlight shining off the river, while she read her books beside him. Every so often, she'd look up at the night sky and search for the brightest star that month. She'd tell the stories behind the constellations. Or at least the stories from her kingdom. Any time she told a story, a fantastical myth, she'd follow up that her brother knew more - Nico, the quiet prince with a voracious appetite for legends and monsters.

Then, if she could spot the brightest star that month and if she recalled, she'd tell him what it meant for the people born that month. At least, in their hemisphere anyway. The stars were different elsewhere. Sometimes she'd crack open the newspaper, the stark image of her father, and read aloud the horoscopes.

He still remembered the incredulous sound she made when he told her they shared the same birthday. She'd dragged him to the library to refresh her memory on their star. Then argued furiously that he did not share the same traits as her.

It was a silly thing. She didn't believe it. He didn't either. But it was the first time they hadn't played the stiff act of royal princess and her knight-in-training. Not Percy holding his tongue and following strictly one step behind. Not Bianca doing her best to pretend he wasn't her shadow.

Awkward civility and stiffness carried thick between them from the moment Percy had been casted into his role. But that night, with the sound of yelling and laughter still echoing in their ears, they made an agreement. They didn't have to be the best of friends, but they sure could be casual with each other. After all, they were going to be stuck with each other for the rest of their lives.

At least... they were supposed to be.

Slowly each finger detached one by one until all that was left was his palm pressed against her wrist. Then that fell away too. Still he couldn't bare to turn his head and face her.

"Leo," she said. "The lion. Strength, pride, loyalty, confidence."

A stabbed orange toy on new year's day passed through his mind. "Sacrifice."

It was quiet for a beat. Then, "Yes." His heart hammered so fast he could feel it in his throat. "The lion represents sacrifice."

What was he supposed to say? He wanted to run, to turn the lock with the key he stole, take her and run. Run far and fast. But deep inside, he knew she was right. He could get by undetected. No one cared about a child knight, not even yet passed his training. He could blend in and slip out. Even if he got caught, they wouldn't nearly put in as much effort to get him back as they would if she were with him.

She was right.

She was already dead.

He swallowed thickly and met her eyes again. The night sky glistened back at him and he thought of constellations and warm handshakes and kind agreements and silly arguments. Breath caught in his throat. "I'll miss you," he whispered, voice hoarse.

Her lips twitched. "I'll miss you too." She blinked, and one tear slid down her cheek. He tracked the wet trace it left behind until it welled up at the bottom of her chin and dripped to the floor. "Will you do me a favour?"

"You're my princess," he said. "I would do anything for you."

It was a weak smile she gave before she spoke. The sight of it crushed him. "Tell my family I love them." Her breath escaped from her shakily. She pushed back her hair. A classic move to hide the nerves that drove her hands to tremble ever so slightly. "And take care of Nico. Please."

"I will," he promised.

Her smile strengthened ever so slightly. But the tears fell fast now, one right after the other. Her face tilted away at the first streak. He immediately turned his line of sight back to the brick wall. Weakness, sadness, grief - she hated being seen with any of them. He always respected it. Look away until she was done. Don't speak, don't ask her anything, don't help her. Just look away and stay silent unless she calls out.

So, even as his mind's eye was trapped in the wet track of tears on her skin, the hitched sound of her breath holding in a cry, he turned and headed back for the dungeon's door. The doorknob twisted in his hand. The door cracked open.

"Percy."

He held stiff. "Yes?"

"Don't forget the bracelet."

Heat burned at the back of his head. In his pocket, the bracelet felt heavier than the weight of the world. When he had first arrived, she gave it to him. When he refused to take it, insistent that she could deliver it to Nico herself, she shoved it into his pocket herself. Like a ghostly stain, his thigh still tingled with the forceful and firm press of her hand. He was sure it always would.

"I won't."

"Stay safe," she said, a princess in a dungeon ready and waiting to die.

His heart shattered. Still, he kept his head held high. "I will."

Then, without another word, he left the girl he had spent the last three years training to protect. He was meant to die for her. It was the role he had accepted the night he and his friends had stormed the castle and pleaded for help with his dying mother. He didn't argue. He didn't plead. Without hesitation, he swore his life away for hers. Without hesitation, he swore his last breath would be hers.

Yet she was the one embracing the eternal coldness to come. She was the one breathing weakly so he could breathe strong. She was trading away her life for his. She was the lion, giving a mighty roar before the dawn of a new year. She was the sacrifice, held down by chains with a glistening sharp blade raised above her head.

But he wasn't the one lowering it upon her neck. No, he was the cold breath of winter. The first drop of snow. The wilting grass. He was the barren wasteland that drove her out into the open. He was the starving masses desperate to live. He didn't have to drop the blade. He didn't have to use his own hands to spill her blood across the ground. His survival was her end. And that made him her killer anyway.

#bianca di angelo #percy jackson #had this thought that was basically what if percy was bianca's bodyguard and became obsessed with protecting nico after she died #and this this happened #happy talks pjo #my writing #my fanfic #the lion leo constellation thing was spur of the moment so the whole sacrifice concept after was made up as i was going along #but anyway the thing i made up for it in this AU or whatever is that in hades' kingdom the start of the year begins with winter #so in the before times winter would come and the people would struggle but they'd be okay but one day the winter was awful #the food stores were ruined and the winter farms were weakened so people began to go hungry as they rationed the food #but the winter was so bad it also drove out the animals in the forest including a pack of lions which the people killed for meat to survive #so every new year as a tradition a lion is sacrificed as like a promise of survival and prosperity and health and whatever #a real lion is sacrificed publicly by the royal family. other people will sacrifice a placeholder like a lion toy or a painting of a lion #idk what they do with the lion after - maybe the royal family eats it or households do a lottery to get a portion of its meat delivered #could i not have just made up a separate new thing for percy's birthday month? yeah. but that would've required more effort and i'm so tire #fuuuck is it really 10pm? shit i need to eat

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sailing-through-hawkins · 9 months

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look who finally finished a wip, it's me i did that 〒▽〒

here is eddie being high off painkillers, what was previously known as "oh no this got feelings by accident" and was also titled "they took his teeth" at some point, now known as home smells like soup and feels like you

and here is the second chapter which is just the same as the first but i tried to make it as screen-reader accessible as i could!

"We're home," Wayne confirms, opening the car door as Steve moves over to undo Eddie's seatbelt.

Gently, Steve wraps his arms around the under of Eddie's arms, laughing when he tries hugging Steve back. He pulls Eddie out slowly, giving Wayne time to take over so he can shift over to Eddie's other side and they both help him to the door.

It takes some time and a lot of patience to get Eddie settled on the pull-out - he keeps fumbling over his steps and trying to bump his head into Wayne's like a weird cat - but once they get there, he settles himself into the mess of blankets and bedsheets all snug and Steve has to really hold back from punching a wall.

"How does he just knock himself out like that?" Steve marvels as Eddie wiggles even further into - well, it looks like a fucking nest to him, but he doesn't want to say it out loud - with a content sigh.

Wayne snorts and pats Steve's back as he walks over to the kitchen. "Kid could sleep through a hurricane even if it was dancing right on top of him."

#i really like the title i ended up with #it was spur of the moment but felt just sweet and goofy enough #steddie #fanfic #writing #sailor✧writes #stranger things #steveddie

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petrichormeraki · 1 year

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I see lots of headcannons that c!Tubbo gets addicted to substances when he becomes president but I just cannot see it.

I can see him trying it, once, when Schlatt claps him on the back and shoves a glass of whiskey in his hands with a smile that says he'll kill him if he refuses. I can see Tubbo trying his best not to wince as it burns all the way down, and Quackity and Schlatt laugh raucously at his attempt, and cheers his empty glass.

I can see Tubbo staring at Schlatt's corpse in the van, the body stinking so much of potions that it masks the stench of death, and it settles an icy, paralyzing fear between his ribs. He swears to never let himself become what he's looking at.

I can see Tubbo throwing glances at Schlatt's old liquor cabinet once Tommy is exiled, as Tubbo's grasp on control over his nation is slipping away. I can see Tubbo for a moment remembering how nothing mattered to Schlatt when he was drunk, and for a moment thinking about how nice it would sound for everything to be numb, just for a little while. I can see the thought sending a shiver of true disgust and fear down his spine, and Tubbo draining every last remaining bottle down the toilet. The smell brings him back to the van, and he doesn't sleep that night.

I can see Tubbo, days after Tommy died, his chest aching with a grief that won't go away no matter how much compartmentalizing he tries. I can see his mind going to the kitchen in his and Ranboo's little cabin, where a bottle of wine is forgotten in the top cabinet, a wedding gift from Puffy who didn't know better.

I see Tubbo making it all the way to his cabin and to the kitchen, because he doesn't know what else he can do and this grief is eating him like rot from the inside out, but the cabinet is too high for him to reach on his own, and the stepstool has been relocated to Michael's room so their son can see the snow fall from his window.

I can see the thought being enough for Tubbo to move to the ladder instead, and he holds his son close for hours to try and ease the pain in his heart. And it does, enough so that Tubbo has the strength to get rid of the bottle the next day. He now knows he can't be trusted with it.

I can see Tubbo only begging for it once Ranboo dies. His son is missing, and his husband is dead. He has nothing left but the pain, and he's lost enough by now that he doesn't learn anything new from it. He just wants it to go away.

I can see Tubbo brewing something, anything, just so he can feel something different than the bleeding ache.

I can see the acrid smell of the blaze rods sending him back to the van, and Tubbo's hands start to shake.

He calls Tommy, and when the boy gets there he hands over the stand and tells him to get rid of it. Tommy sets it to the side to wrap Tubbo in a hug, and Tubbo finally, finally cries.

And I can see that's all he really needed all along.

#no disrespect to those who do write ctubbo like that btw!!! this is just my interpretation #this was very spur of the moment sorry i wasn't expecting to write this much #anyway. yeah. lots of thoughts about tubbo today #i think about him a whole lot #dream smp #tw alchohol mention #tw substance abuse #i don't know how to tag this lmao #tw addiction #???#please let me know #ough i hurt my own feelings with this one #meraki post #it's so late at night #bee duo #clingy duo

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kellyscowboy · 1 year

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THE STRIKERS

a newsboys band au

jack kelly: leader singer, plays the electric guitar

david jacobs: band manager, plays piano on occasion if needed

racetrack higgins: drummer

albert dasilva: bass guitar

crutchy morris: publicist, runs the social media

katherine plumber: back-up vocalist

#honestly just a random thing i thought of spur on the moment #please add onto this!!#mighty write a fic w/ this idk #i feel like spot would be the rockstar's boyfriend #he would give out posters and stuff for their next gig #newsies #livesies #jack kelly #david jacobs #racetrack higgins #albert dasilva #crutchy morris #katherine plumber #˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ newsies // hcs ❥

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zarvasace · 1 year

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Please ignore my awful warmup figures here ahhhh

Procreate is still not my favorite, but the pencil textures are unmatched so. Um. Vio and Red in the cult AU? (the one I did a thing or two with in febuwhump, if you read that. I'd be changing a lot about it from that though.) They've been infecting my brain recently and I'm trying very hard to not give into the urge to start another longer fic before I have my current two finished and posted.

#yet another spur of the moment AU becomes interesting #four swords #my art #ummmm #if i do end up writing something itll be called #mage in embryo #so thats the tag #would this uh. tickle anyone else's fancy or just mine? XD #fsa vio #fsa red

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llitchilitchi · 7 months

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I just want to thank you for trowing the dnotnap vampire au out on the internet. It has been actually quite develloped and yet not enough, just what was needed to encourage people to create their own ideas around it and I love the concept of snf vampires feeding on Dream, especially with the bloodlust episode

Even if you stop there, which seems what you want to do, it did exactly what it was supposed to do and caught many in this so interesting idea. Thanks for your scenario and drawings, which are always lovely

it was a pleasure<3 thank you for enjoying the AU, the reactions, tags, asks and fics made it some of the loveliest memories I have of this fandom

#asks #vampire menace au #I dont know what to say anon like I legit had to take a step back for a moment after reading this #I dont think I can ever express just how much peoples reactions spurred me on and how happy those fics made me #I just wish I could send them off with a bang and not a whimper #though I guess that just means I am giving those three idiots off to you #yours to write and draw and theorize about for as long as you want to keep them #thank you for reading this silly little series

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mortellanarts · 1 year

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I miss posting my writing and I have like a thousand different drabbles but I'm scared they all feel very samey so I'm gonna democratize the choice out of the ones that are farther along so I can pick one to polish properly feel free to ask away if you wanna know more about anything and hi yes trick question they're all still Kurashiki angst

Also trick question again all but the last one are part of that not acknowledging canon au

#I'm so in love with writing about the most mundane shenanigans honestly you want domestic hurt/comfort? I got five of those in the oven #at any given moment #also addendum for the last one it's a lot of parental issues and sigma is kind of just there phi's the one I wanted to write #the second and third one are fun because I got artsy with the formatting to match all the Feelings ™#the first and fourth one are the messiest but they do have a larger cast even if it stays introspective because. well it me #okay? okay; this will run for a week this is still such a spur of the moment thing for me to be doing qwq....#writing #no main tags... hm I wonder

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elegyofthemoon · 10 months

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While reading the relic story for Fleet of the Ageless, I ran into some mention of the "Three Sufferings":

Yet, just like the shifting of the sun and moon, what once prospered was fated to decline and what once brought elation must eventually induce agony. It was not until the arrival of the Three Sufferings, when people were tormented to near extinction, that the Xianzhou people finally came to understand the true nature of this so-called miracle, which was nothing but harrowing calamity. (The Xianzhou Luofu's Celestial Ark)

And I'm not really sure if they mention it elsewhere on the Luofu (I'm very slowly going through everything. Except I keep getting sucked into reading Belobog stuff >_>), but what it did make me think about however is that in Buddhism, there is something called the "three marks of existence", which refers to the three sources of suffering in the world. So I wanted to mostly write this up as a comparison between what's going on in the Luofu vs. Buddhist belief! (And a very big warning: I might be skimming over important details about the religion. I was born into a culture that is very heavily influenced by Buddhism and have grown up with some understanding of it while having to study it on my own, so I'm sure I'll get a lot of details wrong. So if I get anything wrong, you're always welcome to chime in!)

At least in my memory, I remembered that there was a suffering because of attachment to objects, to self, and to others -- all with the concept that all things do not last, so I had to search up these names properly.

anicca (impermanence): This is the core concept in which nothing lasts in this world. The inability to recognize the impermanence of life will then lead to grief -- suffering -- that humans face, as a result. You can actually see this with the Sanctus Medicus's desire for eternal life with Dan Shu who grieved the loss of her friend Yufei via the diaries that you could pick up

It's this idea of attachment to something bound to end some way or another that will inevitably lead to suffering/pain when that loss comes.

dukkha (suffering): The idea behind this mark is that the truth is that life cannot be satisfied. If there isn't suffering, there are moments of joy, but as all things in life, even the joy is brief.

I wouldn't exactly be able to pinpoint how this gets carried out on the Luofu. I would have said something about how the Luofu had once sought out eternal life which then led to the implanting of the Ambrosial Arbor by Yaoshi, but now are unsatisfied by their gift of eternal life to them. I could also say that at least with the longer lives that the Xianzhou natives have, they eventually lose interest in life itself because they've had the chance to sought out anything they could with their many years, which is better described in Yukong's third character story:

and for the final mark of existence: anatta (not self): If suffering comes from attachment, then an attachment to an image of one's self too can lead to a source of suffering. With time, everyone is bound to change and grow, so any attempts in trying to hold onto one specific image could lead to a source of pain.

I think the best way to display this concept is actually through Yaoshi's acts and why the Alliance condemns them and their "abominations" (themselves included :'D). To rid of the suffering that comes with death, Yaoshi hopes to grant the gift of eternal life, but it seems that coming back from the dead doesn't mean returning to one's old self, which I feel can be seen at least with Blade's case with his revival and no longer being Yingxing. These undead are what the Alliance hopes to get rid of. I think it can also be seen through Bailu's story quest with the girl who slowly becomes marastruck who panics the moment the armor and her skin becomes melded into each other, no longer able to retain her former image before meeting and reuniting with her lover, in which case the idea of "self" is an attachment to a physical form rather than something more abstract instead, and that leading to her own suffering in the end.

I'm sure that a lot of Hoyo's writing with weaving in Buddhism with the Luofu lore isn't coincidental (looks at Dan Heng) , and I'm sure that there's bound to be better show of each of these principles, but I think this is what Hoyo might be referring to when they write about the "Three Sufferings" in the relic. Maybe I'll come back to this post later if I find better evidence BUT I thought worth noting at least for now :) ty for reading if you made it this far

#hsr notes #< you can block this tag cuz i tend to use this as when its my rambles #BUT i also use it for others >_>#i feel like i shouldve just kept the rambling blog but meh it's fine idc (yes i do LOL)#xianzhou luofu #i'm not tagging any characters i'm just kinda gonna let this one just float off to god knows where #if people see it they see it alskjdflahk #honkai star rail #hsr #also nobody asked for this.#and this was DEFINITELY NOT ON MY LIST OF THINGS TO WRITE #except one of the things i feel inadequate to discuss #and was also very overwhelmed by the idea of doing so #the other thing i might actually but this post was definitely spur of the moment that i decided to keep chugging on #so yes. its not edited. i'm literally just stream of conscious throwing up words #(with some added photos and reference)#(also i'm noticing. I seem to keep writing posts like this when I'm really down in a ditch LOL)#(that's what happened w the sampo and stellaron hunter/masked fool post and i kinda >_>)#maybe ill come back later to pretty this up. for now you get 11 pm garble from yours truly lol #also the way this post made me open and close star rail JUST to get evidence #my laptop im certain probably hates my guts for doing that to it sorry dear lol #....wait i might do the phantylia post in a sec. i want to. check something.#snow plays hsr

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silverslipstream · 11 months

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Flash Fiction Friday!

So yeah, I decided to enter @flashfictionfridayofficial this week! I decided to write something completely off the top of my head - I've been reading David Levithan's Boy Meets Boy recently and was inspired to write a little smidge of queer romance. It ended up being a lot longer than I envisaged, but it's still under 1,000 words, so... Result!

Without further ado, here's the story of two best friends ringing in the New Year together in an unexpected way. Enjoy! (Note: Owen and Elliott are named after the poets Wilfred Owen and T.S Eliot. Just an interesting little detail!)

Prompt: Can We Kiss?

Lighthouse

Owen isn’t quite sure when he started feeling like he’d been cast adrift from his own body, but surely this house party is responsible. Shawn Mendes’s new hit is blaring from some nebulous middle-distance: he can’t tell whether it’s inside this house or inside his head. He takes another sip from the glass of cranberry vodka in his hand. The alcohol is sharp and sour: it rolls like a fist down his throat, and it’s all he can do not to gag.

Suddenly, like a lighthouse after weeks at sea, Elliott appears at the end of the hall. Owen lurches forward toward his best friend, ignoring the chorus of indignant complaints from the partygoers around him. Elliott sees him and snorts.

“You’re drunk.” It’s not a question. Owen can’t remember ever thinking about it, but suddenly drunk seems like the perfect word.

“As a glass of water,” he answers confidently, and a ripple of laughter shudders outward like a shockwave across the room.

Elliott shakes his head and claps him on the shoulder.

“C’mon, O. You stumble around all night, you’re gonna miss the countdown, and it’s not long now. In fact,” he says, checking his watch, “we’ve got thirteen minutes. You can’t come to a New Year’s Eve party and not celebrate the countdown. What would be the point?”

“Wait—since when was it New Year’s?”

Elliott side-eyes him with a lopsided grin, as if holding in a laugh, and Owen can’t tear his eyes away from those lips. For some reason, he doesn’t care if Elliott notices. He doesn’t care if everyone notices.

“Fucking hell, you’re properly wasted, aren’t you?”

Sometime later, Owen’s sitting on an armchair in the living room. How long has it been? He can’t remember exactly how he got here, but it can’t have happened too long ago, because nobody’s counting down yet. Countdown. That’s important!

The living room is traditional suburban British fare: family photos on the mantelpiece, a hideous red and white patterned rug, a flat screen TV nestled between two DVD shelves. It’s much too small for the amount of people in here. Try as he might, he can’t remember whose house this is supposed to be.

As if by magic, Elliott appears next to him, perching on the arm of the chair. His thick black hair is mussed at the back, and he’s wearing an oddly exposed expression. Something that got caught between satisfaction and confusion and doesn’t know which one to hide behind.

“Gemma Atkins decided she couldn’t wait for the stroke of midnight,” he says wryly, an embarrassed flush colouring his cheeks.

“You gonna go find her again for a second round? Y’know, at the countdown?”

“Nah. She’s probably saving the countdown kiss for Josh.”

Owen snorts derisively. “Yeah, her and every other girl within five miles.”

All the weight in Owen’s skull seems to have moved to the back of his head. Suddenly, he’s looking at the pockmarked pattern on the roof, watching the strobe lights play over the bumps and ridges, leaning back into the comfiest headrest he’s ever known. The fingers of his left hand find someone’s knuckles, and without thinking, he slips his thumb under the other hand’s palm, tracing little circles into the warm and slightly sweaty flesh.

Elliott looks at their joined hands with a quirked eyebrow, like it’s a toddler asking a particularly foolish question.

“Well, that’s a bit gay, isn’t it?”

It’s probably meant to sound sarcastic, maybe even mocking, but Owen can’t detect any malice in Elliott’s tone. Instead, it sounds drily observational, like an affirmation.

“Yeah.”

His head feels like it’s full of pins-and needles; there’s a strange sensation of being pushed into the armchair. Elliott’s hand is still warm in his, and for some reason, his best friend isn’t pulling away. Some joker starts counting down from thirty, and gradually people join in.

“Aren’t you gonna… y’know, find someone to ring in the New Year with, Elliott? I’m good here. This chair’s super comfy.”

Elliott looks at him and chuckles. It’s a light, soft sound, like windchimes, and Owen feels like he could dance to it, pirouette through a ballroom forever if only Elliott would keep laughing.

“No.”

The countdown reaches fifteen: now every kid in the room is chanting. Owen leans in.

“Well, if you’re not gonna go find some girl to kiss, can we? Kiss, I mean?”

“Well… yeah, go on then,” Elliott says. “Only because you’re drunk, and because you couldn’t kiss a girl if your A-levels depended on it.”

“Wow, do you tell that to all the boys you kiss?”

“Only you, O.”

“C’mere, then.”

He slides one hand around the back of Elliott’s neck, and the other snakes around the small of his back, turning Elliott to face him. His best friend leans in, and Owen can’t help but catch a whiff of cologne. This is the closest they’ve ever been. He wonders briefly if Elliott can hear the blood thumping in his ears.

“FOUR! THREE! TWO! ONE…” screams the room.

And suddenly Elliott’s closed the gap between them, and the kiss is simultaneously gentle and electrifying, and Owen feels like he’s floating through the roof. Elliott tastes of Kopparberg and rum, and for some stupid, intoxicating reason, it’s the best kiss he’s ever had.

It’s over before it’s really begun; Elliott breaks the kiss and almost headbutts him by whipping his head around. Owen lays a hand on Elliott’s. The other boy stares back, questions flaring in his eyes.

“It’s all right, mate. Nobody’s watching,” he says, and relief washes over Elliott’s face.

“Yeah, well… don’t get used to it, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. We both know you’ve been dying to snog me all night.”

They laugh again, and Owen could swear they’re sitting in another dimension now. Someplace he can’t name.

“Whatever, O. Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year, Elliott.”

#flash fiction #flash fic friday #new year's kiss #writeblr #writers community #queer romance #just a spur of the moment bit of gay fluff idk why I wrote this but it exists now #my writing

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