COFFEELATTE

guys i’m going to admit: i’ve actually written/posted recently but it hasn’t been on ffnet nor in PoT fandom..... i’ve temporarily absconded to the BTS fandom LOLOL honestly I’m not even a kpop fan but idk when I started reading bts fics and just got really into the fics there-

but ok let me explain: i’d actually had nearly finished chapters for RA, IAG and even BISS when my macbook tragically died with no way to recover anything (just had to get a new macbook entirely lol) so i’ve been painstakingly rewriting them all - it’s just harder to rewrite something you’ve already written because the willpower it takes me is enormous ; u ; (but for IAG readers, pls refer to the ask I recently answered about the rough sketch, and lmk if that’s something you’d be interested in seeing) 

Lmao y’all

Like-

Ya girl coffee is fucked up inside by this writing shenanigan

Like if anyone was even still out there/waiting for IAG-

Lemme tell y’all-

Sit on down and saddle the fuck up bc you’re in for a wild ride-

-on the disappointment rollercoaster @ how shitty this chapter is about to be

-like taking a hiatus from writing must’ve triggered illiteracy or smth bc I swear to god it takes me several sad, broken, awkward and confused attempts to turn the scene I’m thinking of into even a half-coherent mediocre sentence LOLOLOL

So, hi. I’m writing. (Thank fyeri and the way she constantly inspires me, much to my woe, for this fact) LOL. I know that I’ve given you guys snippets of the upcoming (doomsday) chapter thus far, but- I’m starting over?? Don’t get me wrong, the scenes I’ve showed you thus far will eventually be used, but I decided I want a few more filler/development chapters in between now and when the plot picks back up towards the inevitable drama (lel).

So here’s a sneak peek of the new (less dramatic) chapter I’ve been writing. It’s about Atobe, and his horror @ Nanao & Shigohara Minako’s constantly developing friendship ha ha ha

I’m a bit rusty at this writing thing bc it’s been so long D: let me know what you guys think/if you want more??

Anotha one.

Ch 28 is coming. I promise. I’m shooting for before the end of July. B) 

(Heart this post if you guys are even still paying attention to me/reading IAG sob I know I’ve gone AWOL)

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“We can still be friends.”

The silence in the wake of her five little words is deafening. Atobe’s stare - blue, blue, colder than it’s ever been when he looked at her before, so blue it reminds her of ice - is piercing when it directs itself at her. 

But she meets it with a stubborn lift of her own chin, meets it head on with her own brown, meets it as though she were trying to melt the ice of his blue with the warm of her brown. (It doesn’t melt).

“We can,” she murmurs again, voice soft and reassuring despite the way that her hand clenches around the marble counter behind her. Her nails strain against the surface and her knuckles turn white, but her smile is genuinely soft when she quirks her lips at him. (He’d been the one to teach her how to conceal her emotions well, but she’d never thought that she’d be doing it to him). “No matter what. Until the end, right?”

But what was the end, here? Death? The end of the world as they knew it? His wedding day? (It might as well all be the same, anyway).

There’s this song that one of her friends - who’d grown a recent taste for American music - had introduced her to that Nanao plays a lot.

You were red, and you liked me cause I was blue. But you touched me, and suddenly I was a lilac sky; and you decided purple just wasn’t for you.

Perhaps it’s a bit overdramatic. Perhaps it’s a bit romantic, even. But- she feels like that, a lot, these days.

His blue had touched her red, had made lilac bloom deeply, wonderfully, expansively inside of her.

And then-

-you decided purple just wasn’t for you.

I know it’s been a billion years, but it honestly feels like two billion with all the things that have happened irl for me. ; A ; but I really want you guys to know that I really am working, slowly but surely, on the next chapter, and here’s a little sneak peek (IS ANYONE STILL OUT THERE WHO READS IAG ANYMORE)

Since you all have been so kindly patient with me, here’s another preview snippet:

“Suzuki,” Minako says, and her voice is sharp, like glass. It’s sharp, because Minako looks at Nanao and disapproves, disapproves of the way Nanao is calmly attempting to resume her schoolwork when she’s just heard what she has. Nanao shouldn’t be standing there, acting as though nothing is wrong, acting as though Atobe Keigo hasn’t done anything wrong-

“Yes?” Nanao answers quietly, eyes still fixated on the paper in front of her.

“Nanao.”

Finally, Nanao looks up at Minako.

There’s a bleak acceptance in her eyes there that makes Minako’s breath lodge in her throat.

And in that moment, Minako understands: Nanao has been waiting for this moment ever since KeigoandNanao even started, two years ago.

When Nanao smiles, it’s small and kind and tired.

(Is it masochistic of her that there’s even a shade of relief in the way her shoulders slump down? It’s like the release of the blade of a guillotine after an agonizing stretch of trepid waiting; like the plunge of a bullet following the torturous moments of fidgeting before a firing squad, wondering when they’ll pull the trigger. It’s painful - like death - but it’s a kind of relief, all the same.)

IAG CH 28 EXCERPT:

Growing up, Nanao had been an avid believer of fairy tales. 

Quiet but not shy, hardworking but not naturally skilled, she didn’t relate much to many of the princesses - some painfully shy and others worrisomely boisterous, but all with a heart of gold and a gorgeous voice to match delicate sensibilities. They could shoot arrows and sing beautifully and some even wielded swords and led countries to victories; there was not much room for personal identification in the world of fairy tales for soft-spoken, diligent and rather average Nanao, but there was something in them that caught her heart, anyway.

Despite the achingly chauvinistic attitude of it all and the horrible, horrible gender roles it enforced on the princesses, they still all ended up so unfailingly happy. Perhaps it was archaic and stupid that young women had to sit around for princes to come whisk them off their feet, and perhaps they turned women into personas of petty jealousy and misplaced anger in the female villains they portrayed, but all fairy tales, nonetheless, ended in happily ever after.

And that’s all anyone ever wants, isn’t it?

Somehow along the way, such fairy tales had engraved a deep subconscious idea that, despite all odds, she’d get her happy ending, too. It’s silly and stupid and trifling, and she really ought to know better considering the kind of world they lived in- happiness is bought not magically given, darling, and that white steed the prince is riding is in fact a purebred stallion that won last year’s derby race -but Nanao had somehow thought that things would work out, in a way.

She doesn’t even know what she was expecting. But Suzuki Nanao, aged twenty one and certainly a young adult capable of knowing full well the realities of the world, had been taught to believe that happily ever after was hers (the movies said so, didn’t they, and her parents had always told her that the world was hers if she so desired). 

Suzuki Nanao, at age twenty one, comes to the bleak, heart-wrenching realization that the world her parents offered to her on a silver platter did not hold the one thing she wanted above all.

“I can’t,” she begins, lips dry and voice subdued and her voice sounds foreign, a lot like a far, distant sound to her own ears, “I can’t do this.” Her pale finger grips the chiffon of her lovely, lovely dress, and her lower lip is trembling when she says: “I thought I could, but I can’t.”

“I’m sorry.” And when Keigo looks at her in response to her words, there’s apprehension and a darkness in his eyes, as though he knows what she’s sorry for, but he desperately doesn’t want her to say it- “I think I love you,” she says. 

It’s funny, she thinks, because those three words had held such magic in the fairy tales. When she says it, it sounds a lot like a resignation, a lot like a quiet, frightened confession, a lot like a goodbye.

Keigo’s lips tighten.

A quiet, barely-there laugh - hysterical and heartbroken - escapes her lips. “I can’t do this, because I’m in love with you.”