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mapsofnonexistentplaces · 5 months

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ok trying to go over the year’s reads in chronological order i am just spitballing and none of this is good reviewwork

house of leaves — it’s house of leaves what do you want me to say. there was a house of leaves. genuinely really love it but i’ve started to form this semihearted grudge against it because it’s like The One Weird Book everyone recommends and it kind of clouds discussion of other ergodic lit LOL it’s for good reason though there’s nothing else quite like it

kafka on the shore — book that i need to finish actually i’ve still got a chunk of it undone…. honestly might just restart it altogether i don’t remember much of the plot since i started it in like february. but augh. i remember it feeling very smooth to read. pacing of it was extremely stilted in a way that like. i thought was quite cool actually. loved the way it split its perspectives

ulysses — read through a few chapters before i kind of just dropped it unintentionally. really want to get back to it it’s just. impenetrable if i’m not giving it my full and utmost attention lol

a streetcar named desire — reiterating something i said ages ago which is “i could not fucking care less about what tennessee williams’ plays are about but goddamn if they’re not extremely inspiring in the way they’re composed and conveyed” or something like that

the like first 2 books of the new wc arc go inbetween here chronologically…. they’re not as fun as the last arc enough so that i’ve decided i don’t care about those cats anymore lol. complete slog that makes me wish for the days of cat hell possession conflicts instead of weird love triangles or whatever

wonderbook — really good…. i mean it’s literally a “guide” but it feels much more like just a ‘manifesto’ of how a story can be good. it was a really fun read as someone who’s never really been too impressed by common writing advice and who has also never really gotten engrossed in writing circles with other people…. kind of book that feels valuable to both people who are freshly getting into writing and more experienced writers. definitely helped me name and put pressure on elements of my own writing and composition that was just fully instinct-driven prior. it’s good.

tainaron — aughhhh i’ve reread this one like thrice this year…. i’ve fucking yelled about it before on my blog so many times and i’m just restating what i’ve said before which is go look up tainaron and read it it’s like 70 pages it’s just posted online by the original author and it’s a wonderful time. bugs can be both scary and beautiful. you will realise this. ❤️

sphinx or robot — from the same author! this one’s also fun but just not as satisfactory or unified as tainaron imo. nother good short bout though

a midsummer night’s dream — i don’t like shakespeate. dint care.

if on a winter’s night a traveller — hol-like in that it kind of clouds discussion of ergodic lit but once again i kind of get it. honestly this feels like a really good digestible intro to such styles id definitely recommend it with the caveat of like. “be ready for useless background misogyny throughout”. the whole premise grants it a really slick pace love the idea of uniting unfinished ‘chapters’ of stories together…. will forever be thinking about leaning from the steep slope and wishing it was a fully fledged novel though

the castle of crossed destinies — another calvino work. once again love this guy’s prose although i wish he wrote women better LOL uhhh honestly just a really good bite sized bit of weird allegorical literature it’s so much more obtuse and “dry” than ioawnat but i feel like the framing device and style make up for the kind of nothing plot. i suppose that’s kind of the point of it as well….

strassburg’s tristan — currently reading through it and halfway across! specifically the hatto translation which i’m like most definitively marking as some of the most beautiful prose i’ve ever read LOL style of it feels like wading through water

shit that’s on my reading list and that i want to go through soon also….

already started vandermeer’s ambergris trilogy i think i just started and forgot to ever finish city of saints and madmen. fun style though

the complete cosmicomics — again sifted through a bit of the beginning it feels like an even more sludgy set of calvino works than castle of crossed destinies was. but it’s enchanting regardless and i’ll probably read it and like it. i’m lame!

this is how you lose the time war — been on my list for ages i’ve seen excerpts i’ve liked….

piranesi — when rocks have a shape they can be anything in the world or whatever i’m sure this book will say it in a cool way

the seagull — i’m really struggling to find interesting plays that are not about divorce or uninteresting melodrama and this one still applies im sure but from what i’ve read it does so in an interesting way LOL

pale fire — to complete the set of “weird books nobody will shut up about being weird” i need to get to this one. 👍

#.mid #ok that took a while. goddamn

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inspiteallthedanger · 2 years

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Why don’t you think Paul and John were having a physical relationship. It seems to be more of a consensus that they were from what I’ve seen of mclennon blogs. and why ship them if you don’t think they were together

Oh God, nonny. I realise you sent this ages ago, but I'm somewhat reluctant to go into this currently.

But, the short answer is: I do think they had a physical relationship. What I don't think happened was a secret affair where they were open with themselves, or each other, about their attraction. Nor do I think they would have considered what they were doing together as 'sex'. Longer stuff under the cut to save everyone's eyes.

I think essentially they'd act differently if they were having an affair. For example, we see them joking about it in Get Back. We know that both J&P were very keen not to been seen as gay. See: Bob Wooler, Paul's weird quote to the scruffs about why he had to get married, that interview where they're all complaining about being seen as queer if they aren't seen with women. So, joking about it on camera seems weird if they knew they had something to hide. It feels so wildly different from say, Brian suing someone for insinuating he was gay a few years earlier.

That's not all, of course. John literally says during the break up that perhaps they should have tried it and that "would have satisfied it". Paul is also... baffled by what's happening in the break up, which he surely wouldn’t be if they’d literally been together and then broken up. There's also this sort of vibe of unfulfilled something about it all ('estranged fiance'), and the way they keep almost trying again. It just feels a bit... I dunno, unfinished somehow. That's why I essentially think they didn't.

Plus, they were both SO fucking repressed and weird about each other, I just don't believe they did anything that they couldn't laugh off.

As for the second part... I think people mean different things by shipping to be honest. In this context, I mean it to be, "I'm really interested in this relationship and would like to explore it." For me that comes in two parts. One of which is trying to ascertain what I think actually happened. What I think their dynamic was and what factors played into that. The second part of it, is just to play with them like Barbies and making them kiss (like I did with my Barbies). I guess also to 'fix' the problems I've seen in part one, and use fanfic to help me untangle my thoughts about it all.

I'm also not really sure what the consensus is to be honest. I've seen it run the gamete on tumblr. I also think most people tend to feel, I dunno, defensive of their place in fandom. Because it is very varied and people go about it differently. I don't think there is a wrong way - other than being aggressive or rude, I guess - but when you find yourself with an opinion that's at odds with other blogs, it can be intimidating. I really try not to be rude about my opinions and just leave those who I know for a fact don't want me on their posts or whatever alone. But as I say, I think it probably makes a lot of people feel a bit lonely at times. Or, I guess I can only say, it makes me feel that way. It's hard not to take it personally sometimes, but mostly I try to curate my blog and do what makes me happy. So...yeah. I may well not be part of the consensus on what ‘really’ happened. But that’s cool! People are here for different reasons.

#beth rambles

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spacecowboysfrommars · 1 year

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Unfinished Drabble

I worked on this a few weeks ago and realised that I'll probably never get around to finishing it, but I like it too much to delete, so I'm posting it here. Enjoy a half-finished, mostly fluffy (if you ignore the last part) drabble.

After about twenty minutes of scrolling through a niche food blog that MJ uses for their date nights in the city, Peter manages to find a hole-in-the-wall spot for him and Tony to have lunch at.

“This it?” Tony asks, pulling into the parking lot of Anderson’s Breakfast and Lunch with the cherry-red Ferrari (his most luxurious car) that he likes to parade around for Peter’s embarrassment. As long as he isn’t being picked up from school with it, Peter really doesn't mind it all that much.

“Uh-huh.” The parking lot is full of holes, dragging the car down near the Earth before they right themselves. The seventeen-year-old smiles sheepishly when Tony shoots him an unimpressed look. He always pretends to care more about his extensive car collection a lot more than he actually does. “Careful, Mr. Stark.”

“I’ve been driving longer than you’ve been alive, kid.” Tony grumbles as they park.

“You forget to put on your seatbelt at least once a week.”

“God, when did you become such an evil, miserable child?” Tony sighs dramatically, setting a hand over his chest like his poor heart is breaking. Peter grins wickedly and rolls his eyes. “Remember when I was the light of your life? Your childhood hero? Your biggest inspiration-”

“Old age is messing with your memory.”

“I’m telling May that you speak to me like this.”

“Go ahead. She encourages it.”

They’re celebrating Peter finishing his first semester’s exams; only one more semester of high-school before he’s (hopefully) off to M.I.T in the fall. He’s as excited as he is terrified to leave Queens come September. Tony has been around to calm him from every spiral thus far, but he’s worried that as he months fly by, it won’t be enough anymore.

Peter forcibly pushes those thoughts away. Leaving for Cambridge is still over seven months away. Right now, he’s still here with Tony, about to devour all the greasy brunch food that his stomach allows. There’s nowhere that he would rather be.

The hostess’ (a teenager that can’t be much older than Peter, with snowy blonde hair and skin so pale that it practically sparkles in the sterile restaurant lighting) jaw drops when Tony Stark walks in. She shivers and stutters while she gropes for their menus, stumbling a little as she leads them to their table. Tony thanks her with a genuine smile (Peter whispers a thank you too, but he sincerely doubts that she notices in her starstruck haze).

“This isn’t one of those vegan places that your girlfriend likes, right?” Tony asks worriedly, after they sit down. He sets his sunglasses on the table, something that Peter knows isn’t a meaningless gesture. This is him being open, being vulnerable, like his therapist suggests, which he knows from Tony’s various complaints.

“You have a weird vendetta against veganism.” Peter picks up the syrup-sticky menu, grimacing. “And no, it’s not.”

“I would like to see you try to be vegan, Mr. I-Need-Six-Thousand-Calories-A-Day-To-Function.”

Peter was horrified when he first discovered how deeply his enhanced metabolism affects his calorie intake, mainly because there was no way that May would be able to afford to feed him as much as he needed. Despite Peter’s adamant protests when Tony found out, he sends a generous chunk of cash every week to make up for it.

“I bet I could do it.” The seventeen-year-old insists.

“Your favorite food is spaghetti and meatballs.”

The bickering dies down as the pair get engrossed in their menus. The waitress comes back around, still trembling ever-so-slightly, to take their orders. Peter orders a BLT and a fried egg over avocado toast (something MJ recently got him hooked on), and beams when Tony orders French Toast and fruit.

“Hey,” Peter starts joyously, after the waitress has left. “You’re finally trying normal breakfast food, instead of all that fancy stuff.”

“What are you talking about?” Tony stretches an arm leisurely over the cushion of the book, full attention on Peter. In two-and-a-half years of knowing him, he’s still not entirely used to hanging out with his childhood-idol-turned-father-figure almost every day.

“Normal people don’t eat raspberry pain au chocolate.”

“Chocolat.” Tony corrects him, laying the French pronunciation on thick.

They fall into an easy rhythm after that, because how could they not, when they are together practically every day. Over the years, the weekend internship has shifted into Peter staying at least a night or two during the week, on top of whole weekend, on top of all his holidays from school, on top of just for a few hours when May is working late and he doesn’t want to be alone at the apartment.

They talk about Peter’s new STEM classes and what he did on patrol last night and where he’s planning on taking MJ for Valentine’s Day.

“I could pull some strings and get you two a nice dinner reservation.” Tony shrugs, like it’s something he does for people every day. Peter toys with the sleeve of the M.I.T hoodie that he stole from the billionaire’s closet last summer, when he was going away to Europe.

“Thank you, but...” He clears his throat. “I don’t think Em will like a fancy dinner. I was thinking of taking her to this used record and bookstore in Flushing that she really likes.”

Tony doesn’t look offended, reaching down for his wallet instead. “I can still lend you a couple bucks. Is three hundred good?”

Peter clearly chose the wrong moment to take a sip of his water. He nearly does a spit-take. “Three hundred dollars?”

The man rolls his eyes, throwing the bills at Peter. “No, three hundred pennies. Yes, three hundred dollars, Peter Piper. We live in the most expensive state in the country.”

“It’s a used bookstore, Mr. Stark.”

“The word used isn’t in my vocabulary.”

Peter snorts just as the waitress sets down their plates. The teenager falls silent, nearly choking in his haste to take the first bite of the BLT set down in front of him. He closes his eyes and sighs happily, ignoring Tony semi-amused look from across the table. Tiny places always taste better.

He’s nearly done with his avocado toast when he feels it.

It being something cold slipping down his neck. The hairs on his arm stand up, rising to attention as the air seems to shift around him. Something twists in his stomach, burning his insides like acid. Something… something is wrong.

Tony notices it almost immediately. “Pete? What’s wrong?”

He opens his mouth to respond, but all that comes out is dead air. Every impulse buried deep inside of his brain is screaming at him to get away, begging him to protect himself. Protect himself from what? The air gets hotter and hotter until he’s sizzling from the inside.

A thumb is suddenly rubbing small circles into his wrist. It brings Peter back momentarily, enough to catch a glimpse of Tony’s hand clasped over his own gently, before every other feeling outweighs it. He feels dizzy, Tony’s voice muffled and foggy in the far background. “Hey, hey, buddy, are you having an overload?”

Tony stands, probably about to make a mad dash for the car to grab Peter’s ear defenders and his sensory sunglasses, but Peter’s senses sharpen at the exact moment the man slides from the booth. Peter gets up just as quick and throws himself at Tony, around the torso. “Wait!”

They hit the ground just as the windows shatter from the force of the explosion.

When Peter comes to, he’s sitting up.

The contradiction makes his head spin. His lips feel stuck shut, so he breathes stuffy air in through his nostrils as he attempts to move. Peter realizes, quickly, that his arms are pinned firmly behind his back, feet planted in front of him but flat and unmovable.

“He’s awake.” There’s a gruff voice near his ear, grating against his sensitive hearing. Peter feels himself wince as broad, rough fingers grab his face and force it left, squeezing his jaw. He doesn’t open his eyes as hot, rancid breath blows in his face.

“It’s your fault if he punches you out.” Tony’s familiar voice is across the room, too far for comfort. “He’s cranky when you wake him up.”

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cloudie-skay · 9 months

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This would have been a post befitting of Pride month but I say I can post about sexuality and gender any damn time I want. I also just want this written down somewhere

Identity is one shitty puzzle and I lost the box for it ages ago

It was easy to accept that I was nonbinary. It's one of the first things I discovered about myself when the idea of different genders and sexualities was just getting introduced to me. There were signs that even a younger me recognised. I have journal entries dating to 2016 where I referred to my as a gender-neutral person back when I thought I was inventing the term. I told my best friend I was genderfluid but then whenever they asked what pronouns I felt like that day it was always they/them. There had always been some sort of disconnect when people called me a girl that I couldn't quite pinpoint. So when I stared at the definition of nonbinary for maybe a bit too long, it all kinda clicked in place.

It was easy to accept that I was asexual. Getting rid of all the imbalanced hormones and religious trauma, there was no desire left. There was a morbid curiosity for something I was barred from really knowing about but then that was it? Catholic school really scared us into thinking we'd become deranged sex addicts if we looked at porn at all. Then came how others described how they perceived attractive people. Sometimes it came with an underlying motivation that I didn't really understand. I really went through life thinking sexual attraction was some sort of inside joke I just didn't quite get yet because I haven't had sex. Though it didn't initially occur to me that it was because I simply didn't have any sexual attraction, I figure it out eventually. At this point, I wouldn't bat an eye if it turns out I'm demisexual instead though.

Despite all these lables seeming slotting into my identity pretty neatly, it was not and still isn't easy to come to terms that I might be aromantic. To me it simultaneously doesn't make any sense and makes too much sense.

I'm a hopeless romantic, I say with emphasis on hopeless every single time. I've had crushes, I've dated people, and I have a desire for romance! Surely that means something?

But I fantasise over the most mundane things, I read fairy tales of princesses and their knights, I watched movies of people falling in love. Maybe the romance I want isn't something I could even get.

I want to love and be loved in that way. I want the intimacy and emotions you get from romantic love. I've always wanted that kind of love where you are each other's world, where you put each other over most else. I still want to be held desperately close by the person who knows me like the back of their hand, as I do them

But whenever I think of these scenarios and images, I can never really put someone there with me. There's never a solid image of someone in my life that I could fully imagine doing those act with.

The pessimistic side of me thinks I'll feel like this forever, that I'm just not built for that kind of love no matter how hard I try. And that I shouldn't pull someone through my fantasies without loving them the same way.

The desperate optimistic side of me thinks that maybe I just need to find the right person. That when I finally do, I would pour all this bottled up love on them as soon as I can. Maybe even a little scared that I'd love too intensely.

As of now, I can't piece that part of my identity and even then, I don't even know if I'd like what piece ends up fitting in that empty space. I feel like that this point, I'm avoiding finishing the puzzle because halfway in, I realised I didn't like the picture I was about to complete.

I like the parts I did put together before, and I'll probably stare at the unfinished puzzle for a while before I dare put it together fully

#nonbinary #asexual #aromantic #aroace #arospec #pride #sexuality #gender

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rosethornewrites · 2 years

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Saturday & Sunday T & G reading

I have guests coming tomorrow and likely staying the whole week for my birthday, so I won’t be posting read fics until next weekend more than likely.

Finished

Tumblr:

Old Flame, by @bloody-bee-tea

Teen:

westward home, by orro

The room is bare, stripped of everything that has made it their home for the past years. Even the touches that Wei Wuxian had brought to it are gone, safely wrapped and packaged away; soon they will adorn their new house, perfectly situated between Gusu and Yunmeng.

The Long Way Round, by Niitza

“I know what we should do,” Ouyang Zizhen says one day while they’re standing in line in the second cafeteria, "about Sizhui's dad."

“What about him?” Lan Jingyi asks.

“We should find the guy. His—” Ouyang Zizhen glances around and lowers his voice. “—his high school boyfriend. We should find him and make them reunite.”

In which the Junior Quartet tries to retrospectively matchmake. It doesn't work very well.

Or does it?

a place for you and me, by orro

Wei Wuxian remembers the corpse latching onto his leg and biting down. He saw the light of Bichen before passing out, absurdly convinced he was safe even as the creature was devouring his flesh, and then the pain had been too much.

Blossoming flowers in a full moon - 花好月圆, by ThisIsWhereTheMagicHappens (30 chapters)

What if Wei Wuxian wasn’t able to get out of Lan Wangji’s grip at the cliff in Nevernight?

What if Lan Wangji refused to let go?

I think, I wait, I hope, by Littorella & rinsled05

For years, Lan Wangji has waited. Held back his words, his heart, restrained by a lifetime of discipline. And now—now they are married, bound together for eternity, and the dam is breaking, especially with Wei Wuxian gazing at him as if he’s the lucky one, when it has always been the other way around.

Perhaps now is the time.

Or, the many conversations Lan Wangji has with Wei Wuxian in his head - and one he tries to have in the moment.

MDZS continued: a novella, by kalhunter

A figure strolled through the streets of Yunmeng.

In one hand, he juggled five balls of greaseproof paper that once held the jianbing he bought from the street vendor. In his other hand was a stick of candied haws.

At his waist hung a dark flute adorned with blood-red tassels.

General:

can't be just a dream, by orro

Lan Wangji hasn’t adjusted to the changing of times well. He still prefers the clothes of the Gusu Lan sect, the long white robes that could remind one of mourning, but they stick out dreadfully in this day and age. He wanders the earth, helping those who are in need of assistance and generally ridding the world of evil. The guqin on his back has not played Inquiry for his own selfish needs in a while, perhaps the last time was a decade or so ago, for now after hundreds of years Lan Wangji has at last given up whatever hope he had left.

piano recital, by wearing_tearing

“Look at him!” Wei Wuxian whispers when the recital begins.

Unfinished

Teen:

Here With Me, by iamwish

Wen Qing finds him on the roof of where he’s been staying, nursing a jar of Sishu’s wine.

“Wei Wuxian! What are you doing up there?”

Wei Wuxian hasn’t had nearly enough wine to get tipsy, let alone drunk enough for his words to slur, but he slurs them anyway for nostalgia. “What if Lan Zhan doesn’t fall in love with me?”

Wei Wuxian finds himself in the past, a few months before the Gusu Lan lectures, and decides that his best shot at hiding his trauma fixing the future is faking his own kidnapping and asking Wen Qing who all he needs to kill before she or someone she trusts is in charge of QishanWen. Clearly, he thought this through.

Or: Wei Wuxian creates a No War!AU, and then he has to live in it.

General:

Once upon a lifetime, by HuaisangsIntellect

The second he awoke, Wei Wuxian realises that he has been sent to the past, but at what cost? How will he prevent the Sunshot Campaign and make sure none of his loved ones die? And... why is Lan Wangji so different than what he remembered?

(Or: Wei Wuxian somehow finds himself back in the past and causes trouble along the way.)

#the untamed #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #cql #chen qing ling #untamed fanfiction

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sunnydaleherald · 2 years

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The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Tuesday, January 4

XANDER: And I have no idea what Riley and Mrs. Riley's wedding was like. ANYA: Well, you haven't shut up about them. XANDER: Well, they have a great marriage! And it bummed Buffy out, but I can see it. And Anya ... I really have no clue what their wedding was like. ANYA: So our wedding... is not our marriage. XANDER: Separate things. One fills me with a dread akin to public speaking engagements. ANYA: And that would be the wedding. XANDER: Which will be over soon. ANYA: But our marriage... XANDER: That lasts forever.

~~Buffy Season 6 Episode #115: "As You Were"~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Story Time (Xander, T, Devil May Cry xover) by madimpossibledreamer

fright night (Willow/Tara, T) by displayheartcode

Independent 38 - Hell for Leather (Ensemble, G) by Aadler

A Much Needed Reminder (Angelus/Spike, M) by Gabriel_Is_My_Guardian_Angel89

Books And Brimstone (Giles/Reader, unrated) by multifandomfix

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Absence makes the heart grow fonder (whatever that means) Ch. 1-4/4 (COMPLETE) (Buffy/Giles, E) by rip24

A Trip To The Mountain Ch. 1 (Robin Wood, T, SG1 xover) by Rod

Landed, Chapter 17 (Buffy/Spike, E) by Holly

You Learn, Chapter 17 (Buffy/Spike, E) by bramcrackers

Someting To Sing About Take Two (Reprise), Chapter 3 (Buffy/Spike, T) by Kyzaiah

The Tiger is Out, Chapter 62 (Buffy/Spike, M) by Cosmic Tuesdays

Darkest Before the Dawn Ch. 35 (Dawn, T, LotR xover) by Luna

It's Not Easy Fearing Green. Ch. 1 (Willow, G, Muppets xover) by Sithicus

The Ring Talks Ch. 1 (Buffy/Spike, E) by myrabeth

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Artwork:Rupert Giles fandragon () by clouds-of-wings

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Faith's sexuality by herinsectreflection

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The worst Bangel scene is when Buffy tries to dress up as a princess by

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the other very funny thing about lover’s walk by july-19th-club

Imagine if that demon didn’t go into the sword so Halfrek didn’t lift the curse. by millennialslayer

“Buffy took her sweet time deciding to kill Angel but instantly wanted to kill Anya." by millennialslayer

ormal Again by herinsectreflection

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Faith's murder victim by DazzaGee

Should Angel have just kept the Gem of Amara? by Multiple Authors

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BOOM! Buffy The Vampire Slayer # 33 (Spoilers) by BAF

Cordelia's AtS story end... good, a total failure or just unfinished? by multiple authors

Why do people say Spike is soft? continued by multiple authors

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something that's been annoying me for a while (angel spoilers) by Nathan-mitchell

As You Were is the cringiest episode of Buffy. Fight me. by Pixelfrog41

Kennedy's skepticism about magic is laughable by MaveDustaine

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Symmetry in Riley and Spike speeches by keedanlan

For the fans who saw Buffy as it aired by jdpm1991

Why isn't there a (good) BtVS RPG? by takepityontheloser

Spike is an idiot (Normal Again) by Lizcatherine

Does Spike (James Masters) wear contact lenses? by NorsacceBerlusconi

Unpopular opinion (I think?) : None of Buffy’s relationships are ship worthy by Lizcatherine

Was Buffy right in Selfless? by Lizcatherine

The Denzel Washington is the most underrated joke in the Buffyverse by The810kid

[Articles, Interviews, and Other News]

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schmiidt · 3 years

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existence. {alex x willie}

All Willie wanted was for the night to take away all his thoughts, any whisper of the blond drummer he'd once crashed into. Unfortunately for him, his subconscious had other ideas.

also posted on ao3 if you want to read it there

The subconscious works in mysterious ways. Willie just wanted some space, wanted to skate away and ignore all his emotions, ignore how he was trapped here and Alex was passing over, ignore how much he didn’t want to lose him, even though it was definitely the best option he had. But his brain was always thinking of Alex, no matter how hard he tried to put him out of his mind. Which is probably how he ended up in front of the museum.

It was almost midnight, so the museum was closed and empty. Like it had been when he’d brought Alex. Before, when it had just been the two of them without a care in the world. Before he ruined everything by taking them to Caleb. Before he’d effectively ruined the (after) life of the most wonderful person, and his best friends. He never should have taken them to the Hollywood Ghost Club, but they’d wanted a way to be visible, and he had wanted to do everything to help Alex that he hadn’t even considered that Caleb would stamp them as he had him.

He stood in front of the building for what felt like an age, before taking a big breath and stepping inside. He made his way to the bench where he and Alex had shouted all of their worries away. Somehow, in such a short period of time, he had wormed his way into Willie’s life and heart.

He had played the Orpheum tonight – they all had. Opening for Panic! At the Disco, no less. Willie would have given anything to see them play, to see Alex in his element, but it was too dangerous. He couldn’t risk Caleb finding him watching. He had pretty much forbidden him from seeing them until they joined him. And watching their concert would have been the worst place to be caught.

They were getting their unfinished business, actually finishing it. He was so happy for them, of course he was, but it left a gaping hole in him that hadn’t been there a couple weeks ago. Part of it was that he would never complete his unfinished business. He didn’t even know what it was, but even if he did, there was no way Caleb was going to let him cross over. That was not a part of their bargain. His soul was Caleb’s, and there was no unfinished business that could be completed quick enough to do before he noticed. But the other part, the bigger part of the emptiness, was because of Alex. Willie knew that. He had never met someone who he clicked with that quickly. Someone who just wanted to spend time with him, whatever they were doing. That must be why the thought of him crossing over was so upsetting.

Or there was the other explanation. He had never really, truly been in love before, but he imagined that this was what he was feeling. May as well admit it to himself, since there was no one else to admit it to. He would never get the chance to tell Alex, but he could at least be honest with himself. He had fallen in love with him. The cute drummer who had died from a bad hotdog. The boy who’s mind raced a hundred miles a minute, with every question known to man. The ghost Willie would have followed anywhere, if he was able. He missed his smile, the way it felt holding his hand, the feeling of his arms wrapped around him. Would they have had more embraces like that? What would it have felt like to have his lips on his?

This line of thought was dangerous. He was never going to get a chance to find out, so there was no point in dwelling on the unknowns. But his head was filled with images of the blond, so he may as well indulge in fantasies.

Spending the nights running around Hollywood. Teaching Alex to skate. Introducing him to Justin Bieber and his empty pool, perfect for skateboarding in. Watching Alex rehearse and perform. Asking him to be his boyfriend.

His face felt hot, his nose stuffy. Without realising it, he had started crying. He stared numbly as a few stray tears dropped into his lap. Head placed in his hands, body bent forwards, he let the emotions overcome him.

They were free. Julie had saved them. Alex had absolutely no clue how that worked, but for right now he wasn’t going to question it. He was allowing himself that luxury. They had escaped a painful removal from existence, so he deserved it. And they had played the Orpheum. They had finally played the Orpheum and lived to tell the tale. Well, not exactly lived, and there wasn’t really anyone to tell the tale to, exactly, but you’ve got to count your wins somewhere.

Actually, there was one person he wanted to tell the tale to.

The three ghosts and Julie had been cuddling on the couch in the studio, none of them willing to give up the blessing that was the ability to touch Julie. Which is why, when Alex stood up and extracted himself suddenly, the other three looked at him curiously.

“I have to go find Willie. He thinks we’ve crossed over.”

Luke and Reggie glanced at each other, grinning widely, but it was Julie’s soft smile and answering “Go get him, tiger,” that emboldened him even more. He poofed out of the studio to the place where he and Willie had first collided, not quite sure where to begin looking for him.

The street was a bad idea. There were still a lot of people around, and if Willie was here he wouldn’t be easy to find. Alex started jogging down to the bench where they had first chatted, when streams of afterlife questions had been flowing from his mouth, as if someone had turned the tap on and forgotten to turn it off.

The bench was empty.

Alex stared at it for a long moment, almost trying to make Willie appear by imagining him there, but he didn’t appear. With one last glance around, Alex set off in the direction of the only other place that held meaning to the two of them; if he wasn’t there, then it would be a long night searching.

The lights were off in the museum, but for once that didn’t deter him. He only cared about seeing if Willie was in here. What if he was? Would he be happy that they hadn’t crossed? That they were free of Caleb’s mark? What if he wasn’t? Why was he suddenly overthinking this?

All of his worries slipped his mind as he entered the next room, seeing another person hunched over on the bench he and Willie had moved. Not just any other person. It was Willie.

A gut-wrenching sob echoed through the empty room. Alex stopped still. Willie was crying. This wasn’t how he had expected to find him. He stepped forward slowly, lightly, until he was stood directly in front of him. His eyes must have been tightly shut, for though his hair covered his face, he didn’t look up and see Alex. He hadn’t registered that he was no longer alone.

“Willie?"

Willie had been sat on the bench for about five minutes, overcome with emotion. Tears streaming down his face, sobs coming out in full force. He hadn’t been this upset since, well, dying. He was so overwhelmed that he didn’t realise he wasn’t alone until someone spoke his name.

“Willie?”

He slowly unfolded his body and glanced up, into the worried eyes of one cute, blond drummer.

“Alex?” He whispered, afraid that speaking too loud would shatter the illusion that his mind had surely conjured. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?” “Am I okay? What about you? Shouldn’t you have crossed over by now?” Willie stood up gradually, careful not to make any sudden movements. “Are you even really here?” He murmured.

“Oh,” Alex breathed, with a knowing expression on his face. “Yes, I’m really here. Come here.” He wrapped his arms around Willie, and for a moment, Willie didn’t care if it was his imagination. His arms snaked around Alex’s torso and squeezed so tightly that Alex wouldn’t have been able to breathe, if he’d actually needed to.

“The Orpheum wasn’t our unfinished business.” Alex spoke softly, so as to not spook Willie further, as it was evident that the skater had been going through something. “And I don’t really understand it, but after the show, when Julie came to see if we’d passed over, she was able to hug us. And then Caleb’s mark lifted. I don’t know how, and right now I’m not questioning it. I just, I needed to find you and tell you.”

Willie held on even tighter, ever conscious that his tears were falling onto Alex’s shoulder. “I, uh, I thought I’d lost you forever. That I was never going to see you again. And I hated it.” “I’m right here. I’m right here, I promise.” Alex kissed the top of Willie’s forehead, and Willie fell even more in love with him right then.

Willie drew back, just enough to look at Alex. He hadn’t noticed properly when he first saw him, but he looked handsomely dishevelled, in a light pink blazer and a white shirt which was unbuttoned to about halfway down his torso. His hair was messy and in his face, and Willie was convinced he had never seen anyone quite as beautiful as him. He shifted his gaze to Alex’s eyes, which were still glistening with concern for him, another thing Willie loved about him. They hadn’t crossed over, they had almost blinked out of existence, and Alex was worried about him. He didn’t deserve him, but he was going to make sure he cherished him. Taking a deep breath, he started, “I have something to say.” Alex nodded for him to continue.

“The thought of losing you was the worst thing I could have imagined. It felt like there was an ache in my soul, that nothing else could have soothed. So I need you to know, Alex, that I am so deeply in love with you.”

Alex stared at him, eyes searching his face for clues as to whether he was genuine. Apparently finding an answer, he stuttered, “I, uh, I..” then searched his face again, and pulled his face towards his own.

When their lips met, all worries of Alex not returning his deep sentiments left his brain. His lips were as soft as he’d imagined, and though he had been pulled forward with some urgency, their kiss was sweet and tender. Alex’s hands cupped his face, gently, and Willie’s hand had moved to grip the back of his head. Alex was the first to pull back, resting his forehead against Willie’s, and whispered delicately “I love you too.” And Willie was not to be held accountable for pulling Alex back to his lips.

After they broke apart again, Alex wiped the tears off of Willie’s face, and Willie noted that he was wearing a dopey smile that he was sure was mirrored on his face.

Willie gave Alex a full glance once over, noting how good he looking in the 3 piece. A small smirk returned to Willie’s face, as he exclaimed, “You clean up good, hot dog. But you didn’t need to get all dressed up to come and find me.”

Alex blushed bright pink, as he seemingly stumbled for words. Willie’s favourite version of Alex was flustered Alex. He laughed, loud and heartily, all the sadness of the night forgotten. Alex looked exasperated, but also glanced at him adoringly as he continued to laugh. Soon enough, Alex was laughing too, Willie’s amusement too cute to ignore. There was a lot that needed sorting, Caleb’s control of himself, how they had managed to break free of his mark, but all that could wait. They could figure it out together, but for tonight, they would just forget about all their worries and exist together.

#willex #julie and the phantoms #alex mercer #willie #jatp #julie molina #luke patterson #reggie peters #willie x alex #alex x willie #hope you all like it!!#its my first fic in a while lol #mine*

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han-shinsuke · 3 years

Text

Grand King’s Painting

🥀 o i k a w a x u s h i j i m a 🥀

Do you ever feel tired of everything like really tired that you just wanted to lay in peace on a soft bed and close your eyes for eternity?

How I wish dying is as easy as sleeping.

I’m an accomplished man. I got everything. That's what people around me always says. But I’m not happy. I wished I could tell them. Instead, I am running away. From those people who thought that I’m a happy man.

After all these years of pretensions, I would like to know how it feels like to remove the mask I wear all the time for other people's satisfactions.

“Welcome home, young master, Tooru.” Oh, to be the real Oikawa Tooru once again.

/// t h i r d p e r s o n p o v

Fifteen Years Ago...

Odd. That’s how he sees the boy in olive brown hair and olive green eyes. His character matches the eerie feeling of the house he’s living. Tooru would never want to associate himself with a kid like that. If it wasn’t for the request of his dying grandmother, he won’t be in an old village, living in a mansion where his ancestors used to reside when they were alive. The mansion itself is a home of grandeur but Tooru cannot be persuaded by luxury. Even though he has been living a life of comfort that every kid his age would cry for, Tooru want something else. Something that could not be bought by money.

And the boy standing from the clearing in the woods, is a great example of thing that even him cannot buy.

“You are Grand Raya’s grandchild.” Every denizens in this town knows about it. The St. Vincent’s heir, Tooru Oikawa has arrived. That’s what the local newspaper posted in the front page.

Tooru extrudes his tongue at the boy he have tried bribing with his money, “stop tailing, you damn dog or I’ll throw you and your family out of this old and shitty village.”

Manners, Tooru. Manners. If his mother were here, that’s what she would be saying to him. St. Vincents’ are good people. His father, too. So, why he can’t be like them?

“I am not following you, Tooru. I lived here.” Wakatoshi turns his back at the boy he finds peculiarly beautiful. He would accept him. As long as he stay good and real. Tooru Oikawa will soon agree to be his friend. “Go home, little prince.”

“Freak.” Tooru bites back, walking drastically away from the clearing with Wakatoshi’s timid half-smile face lingering in his mind.

|••|

“I had no choice.” As if his answer matters to the unsaid question, Tooru just shrugged his shoulders and instruct his butler to hand the canvas and paint kit to Wakatoshi who did nothing but just nod.

“Why are you hanging out with him? I’m really curious.” Shigeru finally voiced out his thoughts, stopping the heir from descending down the foyer.

Wakatoshi who have been doing his best to earn Tooru’s trust also stopped on his tracks. What would he say? He thought. Would he deny him?

“I had no choice.” Tooru answers, licking his lips.

The two young boy walks out of the mansion. Passing through the enormous porch and straight on the path towards the garden.

“Why do you keep saying you don’t have a choice? You’re not a corpse.” Wakatoshi lays the canvas and the kit under the bird bath. He face the peculiar beauty in front of him, buffled. “You are alive. Why can’t you choose?”

“I have hundreds of choices. I just don’t know how and which to choose.”

“Have you been dead?”

“What’s with the question?” Tooru dusts the canvas and put it on the easel. Motioning Wakatoshi to move away from the bird bath. What a strange boy for his age. Tooru wanders his mind to the query. Has anyone been dead and came back to life? The idea was crazy.

“If you really treasure your life then you will fight for the choices you are afraid to make. Even the dead get to choose in the afterlife, Tooru.”

Tooru pursed his lips in thin line. Orbs battling against Wakatoshi’s olive ones.

“I let you know a secret, I’m a coward that’s why I chose not to choose.”

|••|

All his damn life, Tooru has been letting his mother and few of those people he trust to choose for him. Whether it’s about the clothes he would wear, the food he would eat or the individuals he would associate himself with, it all depends on them.

To put it simply, Tooru doesn’t trust himself enough to make a choice.

“Of all the worst choices sprawled on the table, why did you pick the worst of them all?” Grand Raya asked her grandchild who have been painting his subject on the wall of his bedroom.

“Do you think he’s a bad choice, grandma?” Tooru pauses, scrutinizing his unfinished work for any additional details. “It was my first time though, choosing what’s best out of the substandard options I had.”

“He may be a substandard for you but have you noticed yourself lately, Tooru? You are changing.” The old woman sat in comfort on the wheeled chair, resting her head between the mounted pillow atop of the soft backrest. “I will sleep for now, wake me up when dinner is ready.”

Grand Raya never opened her eyes again that day when she fell asleep. Tooru have done everything he could to shake his grandma back to life but the old lady had chosen death.

|••|

He is nowhere to be found. At times like these, whenever he feel tired or out of focus, Wakatoshi would appear out of nowhere to give him the boost he might needed to accomplish his task. Tooru dropped his bag on the teak bench in their garden and decided to look for Wakatoshi in the woods where he lived.

“Hey.” Tooru calls the attention of the boy who is currently chopping firewoods in the backyard.

Wakatoshi sways the ax once more, dividing the wood into half before acknowledging the other boy’s presence, “Tooru.” He says, drying the beads of sweats running from his temple down to his face.

“You skipped class.” Tooru and Wakatoshi are both attending the same academy that’s why it was easy for Tooru to notice if his substandard friend is not around.

“I have fever and headache.”

“But you are chopping firewoods.” Oikawa notices that Wakatoshi’s lips is more red than usual. He has fever indeed.

“This will keep me warm later once the temperature drop at midnight.” Wakatoshi gathers the chopped firewoods and bring them inside the cabin.

Oikawa lend a hand and follows the taller boy inside, carrying the remaining woods.

“Have you eaten?”

“Not yet.”

“I’ll make you a porridge. Go to your room.”

It really bothers Tooru why his friend chose to live in the woods when he can afford to purchase a property in the town proper. From what he have heard, Wakatoshi’s parents are both miners and owned a mining company that operates in different countries.

“Still alive?” Tooru asks as he makes himself comfortable to intrude Wakatoshi’s peace.

The brunette sets the porridge on the bedside table and signal his friend to rise and eat the food he prepared.

“Barely alive.” Wakatoshi answered.

The two young souls ate in silence. Eyes stealing glances when one of them is not looking.

That night, Tooru had decided not to go back in his home. Instead, he spends the night attending the sick Wakatoshi who had nightmares due to his high body temperature.

“I’m sorry.” Tooru apologizes, realising his inappropriate action.

Wakatoshi touches his lips. Surprised by Tooru’s sudden lips press on his, “what were you apologizing for?”

Tooru hides his face, too embarrassed to face the boy he used to call freak.

“I kissed you.”

“I like it.”

He was surprised by his reply so he ended up staring at Wakatoshi’s face and lips.

“Wakatos—” Tooru did not get to finish his name. He was pulled by him, down to the bed and underneath his surging warmth.

Wakatoshi looks at him like he is the most exquisite creature in their world, “you are beautiful.” That’s what he said before claiming the brunette’s lips and let the four corners of the room to witness the fiery kiss they shared in the middle of that cold midnight.

|••|

A week later ...

“I can’t find my father’s necklace.”

“Where was the last place you visit?”

“the river near your house, Wakatoshi.”

The next day, he was found dead under the river. Foot jammed between the massive rocks underwater.

Wakatoshi

died

finding

his

miracle’s gem.

|••| P R E S E N T

“Welcome home, young master, Tooru.” Oh, to be the real Oikawa Tooru once again.

The brunette motions the butler to leave him alone and the man obeyed.

“I will see you now, freak.” Tooru smiles, setting down the wheeled chair where his grandmother died with a smile on her lips.

It was a great dream. Tooru saw his young self arguing with Wakatoshi in the garden. The freak was smiling at him while leaning against the bird bath.

“Stop moving, Wakatoshi! You’re gonna ruin my painting!” Tooru yells.

Wakatoshi flashes his rare eye smile and says, “you are really beautiful, Tooru.”

It was just a dream.

But it felt real.

Tooru had chosen.

He’ll stay there.

That’s where he belongs.

Inside Wakatoshi’s warmth.

Tooru Oikawa with the gem pressed tight on his chest... died in his sleep.

|••|

“We’ll get that one,” said the two men who both pointed the decades old painting of a bird bath with a green gem on it.

The old man who sells painting on the street had to bite the inside of his mouth to prevent himself from crying.

The old man is Shigeru, the St. Vinvent’s former butler.

While the two men are Wakatoshi Ushijima and Tooru Oikawa... and this is their another life.

🥀🥀

#haikyu #haikyuu #love #imagine #imagines #oikawa scenarios #ushijima #ushioi #ushijima x oikawa

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estamos-destinadas · 4 years

Text

So, I recently--and by that I mean this past week--started working on a new story idea for Juliantina.

I’ve had a bad case of writer’s block these past couple of months--the ideas are there, I just couldn’t seem to put them into words. It was such a relief to me when, after I thought of this idea, the words just started flowing.

Since this story has me really excited, I thought I’d share the first half of the first chapter of the story. As always, I won’t post it on Ao3 until it’s done. And please, if you can, refrain from reblogging 😅-- I kinda feel guilty when I see my story ideas going around and they’re unfinished.

Anyway, story under the cut (please work because this is long.)

On Earth Year 3010, the year Juliana turned ten, she and her mother, Lupé, left the slums of Santonio for the Palacio del Progreso.

The Progreso was in fact a sprawling estate, the “Palacio” in its name taken from the grand mansion at the heart of it. It was the residence of the Carvajals, whose patriarch, León Carvajal, was one of the Administrators of the Nor-Am Oligarchy. The thirteen Administrator families were descended from the billionaires of hundreds of years ago, their riches accumulating with each new generation, wealth unchecked becoming power unopposed until North America stopped pretending to be a democracy and became a nation ruled by its thirteen richest families.

Juliana did not know that particular history. In the slums, education was a fever dream, and there was no time to dream. She did know—she could observe—that the Progreso was as different from Santonio as it was possible to be.

Where Santonio had murky canals, the Progreso had crystal clear pools; where Santonio was blanketed with smog, the air within the Progreso’s perimeter was cleaned by powerful purifiers; where Santonio was all filthy and derelict buildings, the Progreso was true to its palatial name; where the ground of Santonio could barely grow weeds, the Progreso’s greenhouses and gardens boasted plants and flowers and trees that no longer occurred naturally in Earth’s poisoned soil.

Lupé had taken a job as one of the caretakers of the Progreso’s gardens. Lucía, an old friend, and now León Carvajal’s new wife, had gotten it for her. She and Lucía had used to work at one of the factories owned by the Carvajals, where they’d worked 12 hours a day, 6 days a week, all through the year for little pay. But then León had seen Lucía and had fallen in love, taking her to the Progreso. Lucía, who would not forget the life she’d led until then, had found jobs for her old friends within the estate’s walls.

In the Nor-Am Oligarchy, connection mattered.

That connection gave Lupé a job with gentler hours and better pay. The connection meant that she and her daughter could live in the staff’s compound within the Progreso, in an apartment that was much bigger than their old matchbox of a room in Santonio. It meant that Juliana could stop taking odd jobs to supplement their income, could stop worrying about her next meal. It meant that, finally, she could start getting her education.

⁂

Education was a completely new experience for Juliana and, at first, it felt like butting her head against a wall, or maybe trying to breathe underwater in one of Santonio’s canals.

It did help, however, that León Carvajal provided air-conditioned vehicles for his residential staff’s children, which daily took them outside of the Progreso, through affluent but smog-filled streets, and to a nearby school with air-conditioned buildings. It also helped that the Progreso’s main library was open to its residents, from the Carvajal family, to their guests, and even to the estate’s numerous staff and servants.

Every day, after school, when the other kids went to play in the rec area of the staff’s compound, Juliana went to the library, trying to catch up to classmates who had been going to school their whole lives.

That was where she met Valentina, almost a month after she and her mother arrived at the Palacio del Progreso.

Juliana, having taken a break from reviewing her lessons, was flipping through a book about 21st-century art—an actual paper book, that was how rich the Carvajals were—when she heard the sound of poorly-suppressed sobs. It was coming from a nearby row of kiosks, where one could download books and magazines and all sorts of digital media to their own personal devices.

Juliana decided to investigate. She passed by the kiosks, looking through the gaps between them, until she saw a girl sitting at a table near the windows. The girl, who was gazing downwards with her shoulders hunched, seemed to be her age. Juliana hesitated for a moment before approaching the girl.

“Estás bien?” Juliana asked.

The girl’s shoulders stiffened, her soft sobs cutting off, but she made no reply.

“Necesitas algo?”

“Estar sola, necesito… estar sola.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just that I heard you crying and I thought—” Juliana cut herself off. What was she thinking, bothering someone who clearly wanted to be alone. “You’re right,” she awkwardly scuffed the sole of her shoe against the marble floor. “I’ll let you be.”

With that, Juliana turned on her heel, but she had only taken one step away before the girl called out to her with a, “Hey, sorry, wait.” When Juliana turned back to her, the girl added, “I think—I think I’m fine, thank you.”

If the tears in her eyes did not tell Juliana that the girl was lying, the way her voice shook did. Her heart went out to the sad girl, who had the prettiest face Juliana had ever seen, though her brain filed that information away for later.

Juliana sat on the chair across from the girl. “So, what is it?” she asked, frank as any ten-year old. She didn’t know why, but she wanted to help solve the girl’s problem, even though she’d just met her, even if she didn’t know who she was.

The girl wiped her tears before launching into it. “My dad wants me to go to school! I don’t want to go to school. I want to stay here and read what I want to read, not what schools think I should read. And I want to go with him or my sister when they take trips to other nations, or to the moon, or to the other planets. If I go to school, I can only go with them during the holidays.”

Juliana had never met another kid who talked about travelling to other nations or other planets so casually, but she focused on what they did have in common. It seemed that the girl had also never been to school before.

“Oh, well, school’s not so bad, you know,” Juliana told the girl. “I started it for the first time last month too. Reading’s really hard—” Lupé had taught Juliana how to read when she was younger, but the slums of Santonio was not conducive to such an activity, “—but I’m learning a lot of really cool things. Like, did you know that North and South America used to be connected by land? I didn’t even know there was a South America!”

The girl gaped wordlessly at Juliana, her blue eyes wide and curious. When she found her voice, she began delicately, “I… I know. I’m learning with my tutors, but I don’t want to go to school. I want to do things at my own pace.”

“You can do that? Learn with tutors, I mean?” Juliana asked, borrowing the girl’s phrasing. It would be nice to learn at her own pace. It just seemed to Juliana that all her classmates were far ahead of her.

“Yes?” The girl cleared her throat. “I mean, yes.”

“Oh,” Juliana said, feeling like she was missing something. It began to dawn on her that the clothes the girl was wearing looked very expensive. On a hunch, she asked, “Do you live at the compound?”

“Huh?” the girl started, though she quickly added, “Oh, the staff’s compound! Uhm, no. I live here.”

“Like the guest houses?” Juliana almost begged. The guest houses were near the library after all.

The girl’s lips turned at the corners. “No, at the mansion.”

Which meant, Juliana realised, that the girl was a member of the Carvajal family, and that the dad she’d been talking about was León Carvajal himself. Juliana blushed, but before she could really process how embarrassing it was to tell the daughter of an Administrator of the North American Oligarchy that she had not known there was a South America, the girl’s smile broke out.

It was a kind smile. The girl’s gentle gaze told Juliana that she wasn’t being judged for her ignorance.

“You know,” the girl began, “I’m a really good reader. I got almost a hundred percent in my speed reading and reading comprehension tests.”

It was Juliana’s turn to gape at the girl. “Okay?”

“I could teach you!” the girl said excitedly, her previous complaints about school seemingly forgotten. “You said you found reading hard, I could help you get better at it. Only if you want to, of course,” she added quickly.

“I—really?” Juliana asked, not quite believing that the daughter of León Carvajal would want to help her get better at reading.

“Yes, really,” the girl said fervently. “Oh, but I don’t even know your name.” Before Juliana could reply, the girl extended her hand across the table. “I’m Valentina.”

As Juliana took the offered hand, she began to mirror the girl’s wide grin. “Juliana.”

⁂

A friendship was quickly formed.

True to her word, Valentina helped Juliana get better at reading, and even helped her with her lessons. School became easier for Juliana, and Valentina became more amenable to school, as long as she went to the same one as Juliana. Valentina was a year older than Juliana so they would not be in the same class, but at least they would be in the same place.

It spun another argument between Valentina and her father; the school Juliana and the other children of the residential staff went to did not have the prestige befitting a daughter of the Administrator. But Valentina was stubborn and used to getting her way, so Administrator León Carvajal had to compromise. Valentina was allowed to go to the same school as Juliana, as long as she continued to study with her tutors. Valentina was perfectly content with the arrangement.

Outside of school, where Valentina wanted to go, Juliana happily followed. Not that Valentina went where Juliana did not want to go, or could not follow. They spent all their time together, whether it was at the library, the gardens to visit Juliana’s mom, the sports and rec areas around the Progreso, particularly the poolhouse to go swimming, even the mansion itself. The last one took some getting used to for Juliana, but she eventually became comfortable enough to not feel like an intruder in the Carvajal family mansion.

They were inseparable.

One could say that Juliana and Valentina took to each other as a fish takes to the sea, or as a bird takes to the sky, but most birds had gone extinct, and what fish there was left lived in the depths of the ocean, or were cultivated in tanks or artificial bodies of water.

The older people had a different metaphor for it: linked by the guts.

One time, Lupé burst out in fond exasperation, “Why do you always have to go with the Administrator’s daughter everywhere? Are your guts linked together?”

Another time, León asked, “Are you really not going with me and Lucía to Venus because Juliana can’t come?” When Valentina answered in the affirmative, he observed in amusement, “You two are linked by the guts.” A few days after that, Juliana was preparing for her first interplanetary trip.

Guille, Valentina’s older brother, remarked that they were like the entangled particles of paired Qubes.

Qubes—or Quantumly-Entangled Communication Boxes—always came in pairs. The subatomic particles inside one Qube were quantumly-entangled with the particles of one other Qube. Whatever configuration the particles of one Qube were in, that was always reflected in its paired Qube.

Nothing can travel faster than light. The speed of light itself was a constant, limited, and as a communication medium light was prone to interference.

It meant that, in the past, off-world communication was slow and unreliable. When physicists and engineers unlocked the secrets of quantum entanglement almost a millennium ago, the exchange of messages became instantaneous with paired Qubes.

Nothing can travel faster than light, but there was a way to work around it.

Of course, Qubes were of the most use in interplanetary or interstellar communications. Within a planet’s atmosphere, radio waves and cables were still the more efficient form of communication, if only because they were much cheaper and faster to make.

So Valentina balked at her brother’s analogy. “That makes no sense, Guille,” she told him in no uncertain terms. “Entangled particles—paired Qubes—are useful when they are very far apart from each other, like light years apart. I don’t want to be light years apart from Juliana.”

They were at the mansion’s kitchen, watching Chivis, one the family’s personal servants, prepare an afternoon snack for Valentina and Juliana when Guille joined them and made his observation.

Glancing at her best friend, Valentina caught Juliana’s shy smile at her declaration. Valentina couldn’t help but mirror her smile. They’d known each other for a little over a year by then; Valentina understood the irrefutable truth of her statement. She did not want to be apart from Juliana. In fact, she wanted to be as close to her as possible, often longing to brush Juliana’s hair, to rub her cheeks against Juliana’s cheeks. With the kitchen counter between them, Valentina settled for grabbing Juliana’s hand. Juliana met her gaze; Valentina’s smile widened.

Guille waved a hand at the two of them, as if to demonstrate his point, but Valentina and Juliana were still gazing at each other and Chivis ignored him. “Well,” he said, clearing his throat to get their attention, “if you two lived light years apart, you two would still be—” he linked his hands through interlaced fingers, “—entangled.”

Juliana felt her face heat up, pleased and flattered. She thought it was nice, to hear Valentina’s brother make such remarks about their closeness.

Valentina thought differently. “Don’t even joke about that,” she said, slapping her brother’s arm, not appreciating the idea of living far away from Juliana.

Guille laughed as he moved away from Valentina, pretending to be hurt. Valentina laughed at his reaction. Juliana laughed at Valentina’s laughter, the way her eyes crinkled and her cheeks dimpled.

Chivis, much older and with much more experience of life, did not laugh at their banter.

⁂

Nothing can travel faster than light. The speed of light itself was a constant, a hard physical limit of the universe: 299,792.5 kilometres per second. In one Earth Year, light traveled a distance of 9.46 trillion kilometres: 1 light year.

The fastest interstellar ships were powered by warp drives, first built by physicists and engineers from over half a millennium ago. The warp ships were named after a fictional technology from millennia-old stories, but whereas the warp ships from the stories could overtake the speed of light by ever-increasing magnitudes, the real warp ships could not. Warp ships could travel nearly as fast as light, but not as fast as, and never faster.

Apart from an obscure reference to old fictional stories, warp ships were so called because of how it warped time for the ship’s passengers. At or near the speed of light, time dilated. To anyone and anything within a warp ship, trips take only a few hours, even a few minutes. To everyone and everything outside it, a ship that traveled a distance of a hundred light years would have taken a hundred Earth Years to get from its origin to its destination.

At the advent of warp ships, a group of astronauts travelled to Proxima Centauri—4 light years from Earth—then after a week at the system returned to Earth for a total distance travelled of 8 light years. To the astronauts, the round trip had taken a few minutes each way; to everyone outside the ship, the trip had taken over 8 years. One of the astronauts had been a mother. When she’d come back, her daughter—left on Earth—had aged 8 years in the absence that to the mother felt much less than that.

Because of the time dilation—the warp—it was impossible to interact with anyone and anything within a ship while it was traveling nearly as fast as light. Not even through Qubes, which were invented a couple of centuries before the warp ships. Even entangled particles could not sync when a second for one meant a lifetime for the other.

To travel in a warp ship at a distance of light years—5, 10, 100—meant to jump in time 5, 10, or 100 years to the future, putting not just space but also time between yourself and your loved ones.

Chivis, older and wiser, knew this. Interstellar travel was a special kind of heartbreak, it was no laughing matter.

Almost a year after that joking banter between the siblings, Valentina and Guille began to understand that heartbreak.

After warp ships were perfected, humanity began the Hundred Year Exodus. For a hundred years—and more—warp ships carrying thousands of people set off for far flung planets, hoping for a cleaner world, for better societies. Now, centuries later, the human diaspora was spread out over 500 light years from Earth in different directions, linked only by the paired Qubes the emigrants brought with them. But to travel to those colonies, hundreds of light years away, meant leaving the Earth as one knew it for good.

Chivis, who was retiring, had announced just that: she was going away to a colonised planet more than 200 light years’ distance from Earth.

“By the time she gets there, I’d be dead,” Valentina said lowly to Juliana.

They were lying side by side on Valentina’s bed, on the evening after Chivis’ departure. Valentina and Juliana often had sleepovers at the Carvajal family mansion. Usually they would be giggling over some vid or book or something that happened during the day, but when Juliana joined Valentina that evening, the latter had been crying into her pillows for most of the afternoon.

Valentina continued talking. “I know that she chose that planet because her children decided to move there, but she is—was—is,” Valentina huffed, even the tenses got confusing, “she’s like family to me too.” Valentina knew that she could not have hoped to compare against Chivis’ children and grandchildren when the woman had still been weighing her decision, but it had still hurt when Chivis had told her that she was leaving. “I’m going to miss her. I already miss her.”

“Val,” Juliana said gently, taking her best friend’s hand in hers and interlocking their fingers, “she’s going to miss you too. And it wasn’t an easy decision for her to make. She said so, right?”

“Yeah,” Valentina agreed in a whisper.

“She loved—she loves you Val, that doesn’t change.”

“It still sucks.”

“I know,” Juliana said gently, squeezing Valentina’s hand.

Valentina squeezed back before moving sideways and closing the distance between them so that her head was against Juliana’s shoulder, her hand wrapped around Juliana’s arms, her leg draped over Juliana’s legs.

“It helps that you’re here,” Valentina said. Suddenly overtaken with a certain fear, she gripped Juliana’s arm tightly, but it went away just as quickly and she loosened her hold. “I’m glad you’re here.”

⁂

That was not Valentina’s first experience with loss.

She had only been eight years old when her mother had passed away, and Valentina’s longing for her never quite went out.

“I still look around for her sometimes,” she’d once confessed to Juliana in a whisper, a few months after they’d met.

Even then, Valentina had found it easy to talk to Juliana about anything. She’d been the only person Valentina could really talk to about how it had felt to lose her mother at such a young age. It was the way Juliana had listened to her every word, and had seemed to understand exactly what Valentina had meant.

Valentina had tried to return the favour, tried to ask Juliana about her father, but Juliana had always clammed up when the subject was brought up.

It wasn’t until the day Juliana turned thirteen that she opened up about her father. He had not come to celebrate with her and Lupé, but he’d sent her some presents.

“I’m not really cut up that he didn’t come,” Juliana told Valentina matter-of-factly after her party, where she’d invited a few of her classmates. “I’m used to it,” she added with a shrug.

Macario Valdés had rarely ever been around back in Santonio; he had never come to visit once Lupé and Juliana moved to the Progreso.

“It was probably for the best anyway. He would have scared everyone off.”

He was a harsh man, not given to gentleness or affection.

“I’m surprised he even gave me anything.”

He was cold and distant.

“But maybe these actually came from Lupé, and she only pretended that it was from him.”

There was no doubt in Juliana’s mind that Lupé loved him dearly, that Lupé thought he was the most amazing man in the entire world. She could see it from the way Lupé talked about him, from the way Lupé preened on the rare occasion that he called.

To Juliana, he was just her mother’s absent husband. At least that was what she told herself.

Valentina did not understand how anyone could ever choose to be absent from Juliana’s life, but she did not say that out loud. Instead, she asked, “What did he get you?”

“Some books?” Juliana said doubtfully. Lupé had said that she’d downloaded them onto Juliana’s personal tablet, but Juliana hadn’t looked at it yet. “Which, I don’t know why, because there’s a library here.” She did not know what her father could have sent her that was not available in the Progreso’s huge library. “But I guess that means they really were from him.” Lupé would not have gotten her books.

Juliana huffed, waving away thoughts of absent fathers and thoughtless gifts. She looked at Valentina. “Thank you for your presents, by the way. Me encantan mucho.”

She’d already thanked her, but she felt like she could not express her gratitude enough. Valentina had gotten her a painting set, an actual physical painting set, with paper sketchbooks, a few canvases, and pencils and brushes and water colours. Juliana had done normal art—digital art—from the time she’d gotten her first tablet, but she’d always wanted to do art on paper and canvases.

“Of course,” Valentina said, “anything for you, Juls.”

Juliana smiled shyly, meeting Valentina’s eyes until, feeling overwhelmed by the depths of emotion in them, she gazed down at their joined hands and burrowed closer to Valentina, who tightened her hold around Juliana.

They were in Juliana’s bed, about to turn in for the night. Juliana’s other guests had left after the birthday party but Valentina had stayed for the rare sleepover at the Valdéses’ apartment. Juliana’s single bed was much smaller than Valentina’s so it was a tight squeeze, but Juliana didn’t mind. In fact, she liked it a lot.

Juliana liked being pressed close to Valentina. She liked holding Valentina’s hand. She liked it when Valentina hugged her tightly; she would always hug back and never want to let go. She liked it when Valentina kissed her cheeks; that was a new thing that Valentina did, and Juliana could not get enough of it. She liked it when Valentina would watch her for long moments, those pretty blue eyes seemingly glued on Juliana, even though it made her a little shy. And she liked gazing at Valentina in turn, never wanting to take her eyes off of her, because Valentina was the most beautiful person Juliana had ever seen, and she had the prettiest smile that made Juliana’s insides seem to fly.

This premise/idea is actually not a new one. I’ve been mulling it over in my head for years, but I’ve never been interested in putting one of my ships in this setting until Juliantina--not in writing or even in stories that are just in my head.

I’ve also wanted to write a certain kind of fic, a certain mood of fic, for Juliantina, but nothing seemed to fit their personalities--well, Val’s personality. I think this premise would achieve that mood without making them OOC. (I don’t know if I’m making any sense lol.)

Oh, and if you’ve reached this far, I wonder if you could guess where this story would be headed? 😊

#fic #au #mine #teaser #stories #if you are wondering about the harry potter au #like I said above #I've had a bad case of writer's block #I have the next installment outlined #but the words are stubbornly refusing to be formed #I had to take a step back #and increase my reading (not fics but published works) to sort of get those words #but somehow this was what came of that #oh well #I will still continue with the hp au though #the next installment just won't come soon

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imaginaryskeleton · 4 years

Text

Unfinished Julian x MC oneshot from about a year and a half ago @reginathespaniel (sorry this took so long to post)

"This is making me really uneasy, [MC]" Julian stumbled a little before being caught by his partner tugging on his hand, "As much as I like being blindfolded by a beautiful people, I don't like not being able to see where I'm going"

[MC] slowed a little, hoping to be of some comfort "I know, but it'll be worth it. I promise. You'll love where we're going." They continued to walk down the cobblestone street, Julian blindfolded with [MC] leading the way, weaving in and out of stalls and people, all the way firmly gripping his hand.

"Whatever it is, it better be as amazing as you say for putting me through this torture." He grumbled dramatically and the sound of musical laughter filled his ears.

"Trust me, it is." [MC] waved to the baker and put a finger to their lips to make him not give away their location as they passed. The baker had his arms covered in flour as always and the sweet smell of pumpkin bread danced among the other aromas in the marketplace. Sweet and spice filled the air and new smells exploded like fireworks each time a stall was passed. The market had always been [MC]’s favourite place to go but they didn't have time to stay and shop or bask in memories. they had plans. And if those plans made Julian smile like they hoped they would then it would be worth not stopping.

Julian's hand tightened around [MC]'s own as they entered a large crowd on the way out of the market. People were pushing and shoving to get to where they needed to be which didn't ease the doctor's nerves at all. People were definitely his forté but not being able to see them as he got dragged through a tunnel of them? Definitely not his idea of fun. But he trusted [MC] and if they said he'd like the destination then he'd put up with anything. For them.

The feeling of others pushing against them slowly lessened until it was quiet and quite clearly just the two of them walking without another person in sight. Well, [MC]'s sight and Julian's earshot.

A gentle wind tossed Julian's auburn hair around, messing up the fluffy locks and uncovering the signature eyepatch he wore to hide his plague eye. Now this was his element. Quiet with just the wind, it reminded him of his time sailing. Never a dull moment with wind always in his hair and sea water spraying against his skin. He could almost smell that salty air as the memory washed over him like a wave. No…he can actually smell it. Where had [MC] taken them?

"[MC], where-?" He was cut off as [MC] spun to face him and put a finger to his lips.

"We're here. You'll see. There's a small step here so I'm going to go up then help you up. No peeking!" they slowly pulled their hands apart, not wanting to break the physical contact they both craved from each other. [MC] pressed a kiss to his cheek before taking a few steps and lightly darting up the step. Then, they reached out their hand once again for Julian to take, and guided him the step up as well. His boots made a small 'thud' and they stepped onto the hard surface. 'Wood' Julian thought, 'that sound was definitely wood. Where the hell are we?'

"Can I look yet?" The tension was killing him and they had said that they were there. He reached up to take a hold of the blindfold before a gentle hand stopped him.

"Few more steps over this way…" [MC] pulled him further along wherever they were and he heard them grab something from the floor. "Ok I'm going to take it off now."

"Finally. I missed your face." He smirked as he knew the blush that he caused to appear. [MC] walked around the back of him and agonisingly slowly began to undo the knot on the fabric. "[MC]-" but before he could tell them to hurry up they lowered it and let it drop to the floor. Julian's eye went wide.

"Welcome," [MC] flung their arms out "To The Starstrand!" A quick scan of his surroundings gave him all he needed to know. He was in love. In front of him spanned a large deck with closed sails reaching up to the clouds, not that there were many in the crystal sky. The doors that probably led to cabins has light blue patterns on them that seemed to sparkle in the afternoon sun. The ship had been expertly crafted and was clearly designed to withstand the roughest storms and waters yet still keep about its air of elegance. It flew Prakran, Nevivonian and Vesuvian flags which flapped loosely in the breeze. The whole thing was just perfect, straight out of his dreams. [MC] was straight out of his dreams.

He turned to see [MC]'s awaiting face. They were wearing a captain's hat which was much to large on her small head and it only made him smile more.

"So…do you like her?" they asked. It took him a second to realise they were talking about the ship. If there had been any doubt about his answer before it was gone when those gleaming eyes looked into and locked with his.

"She's perfect. You're perfect." He leant down to meet them as they leaned in for a kiss. It lingered longer than it needed to and had him reluctant to stop.

"Why 'The Starstrand'?" He asked.

[MC] smiled and walked over to starboard side as Julian followed behind. [MC] lent over the edge and cupped their hands into the water. their body was positioned in a way he couldn't see past them but he definitely got a good view anyway. When they came back up they held a single blue flower in their cupped hands. "I noticed they flow down the docks from where they get uprooted further down. The name is sweet for such a deadly flower and I thought it would fit the ship." They reached up and placed the flower in his hair, making his face heat up a little as he remembered the time he did the same to them when the two 'first' met.

Their hands came down, brushed softly against his face, and they settled their arms around his neck, resting lightly on his shoulders. They stayed like that, just looking into each other's eyes, for a few minutes before [MC] slipped off to port side, "You wanna test her out?"

He decided to press his luck, "What if I want to test you out?" His iconic smirk snuck itself onto his face as he leant against the edge in a (pretty effective) attempt to look sexy.

[MC]’s hands didn't pause as they continued undoing the rope that tied them to the docks. Instead they just laughed, a sound so clean and akin to chiming bells it was almost magical, "Later, Ilya. We're in no rush."

Julian pouted and [MC] went over to the mast and opened the sails which immediately caught in the wind.

----

Like I said it's unfinished and was written ages ago so apologies for it being so bad. my writing has definitely improved since this. I originally had the name of my MC and she/her pronouns but i changed it be more inclusive so sorry if there’s any I missed changing

Feel free to take it and finish it yourself just let me know first

#the arcana #the arcana julian #the arcana mc #julian devorak #julian x mc

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2uselessgays · 4 years

Text

Hanzo x Reader - Hanamura

This wretched place. This cursed castle. Two years of rich, livid history lived within these walls, the history of the Shimada clan.

The battle that changed everything emptied this place. The two brothers - Genji and Hanzo Shimada - It shook the entire district of Hanamura, and ended in one of the brothers, Genji’s demise.

So today, you had come here to pay your respects to him. A worthy friend. Your eyes gazed before the mural that centred the courtyard of the castle. A corner had been cut, saturated in dried blood, the legendary blood of Genji.

As you walk closer to the mural, you hear something… Soft, quiet footsteps, trying to mask themselves. Someone else was here. No, someone was creeping up behind you. You look behind you, but nothing was there. ‘’What was that?"’ You think to yourself, pondering who it could possibly have been. No-one should have returned here, not ever. This horrid place should have been rid of any living creature, not even the omnics dare to go near it - thinking the battle that went on still curses everything that goes near. It should have been burnt to a crisp years ago.

You walk into the courtyard, warm, salty tears trailing down your face because of what had happened. You peacefully sit down against a wall, you grab a canvas and a paint brush and start painting in the castle. Another annual tribute to Genji. You thought everything was fine, and that everything is safe.. Until another sound gets made… It sounds like.. Human footsteps? They really do not want to be noticed, weird. You brush it off as the wind, thinking it was too quiet.. But oh boy, you were wrong. You feel as if someone was watching you. And that’s when it happened - An arrow, it flew right besides your head, gracing your hair. You quickly try to get up, but something stops you. The intruder had grabbed you firmly by the shoulder.

You turn your head and then it happened. You were face to face with the legendary (not) brother, Hanzo. He had grown from his past image. He had a beard now, well kept, and he had a small put atop his head, a ribbon laced around it. You muster up the courage ask him, ‘’Wh-what do you want from me?’’ In a shaky voice, fear betraying your tone.

‘’Why are you here?’’ He asks, sternly. You’re absolutely terrified, shaken up by fear, too much to answer him, and try to run away, but it doesn’t work. His grip tightens, his voice gets more serious, his face angry. His gaze burns deeply into your eyes, wanting a direct and honest answer. He wasn’t going to let you go easily. You weren’t stupid. You finally replied with ‘’Why would you care..? You killed your own brother! Forsaken him, brought immense dishonour to your family, Hanzo. Do you feel no remorse? Why would you protect this place?’’ He sighs deeply. Not answering your question, not saying anything at all. He looks at you, deeply, trying to figure out your intent. ‘’Well? Tell me!’’ You shout. ‘Fuck, why did I say that?’ You thought to yourself.

Quite suddenly, his demeanour changes. His look changes to that of sorrow, his grip on you weakening. He let go of you, taking a moment to sit at the mural. You joined him, still cautious. “I come here annually to grieve the death of my brother. To reflect on the damage and dishonour I have brought. I did not expect to see anyone else here. Especially for the same reason as I. I will ask you again. Why are you here?”

You swallowed your bated breath, finally deciding to give an honest answer. He seemed genuine with you. You threw your head down, exhaling deeply. “I come here whenever I can to pay my respects to your brother, Genji. He was a dear friend to me. He was there for me when no-one else was. When I needed someone the most. That is why I can never let go of this place. You may see him as a playboy or a laid back fool, Hanzo, but he was far from that. He just didn’t want anything to do with the clan. Is that so wrong?” You say longingly, patiently waiting for an answer. “Answer me, Hanzo. Is that so wrong?” You say, raising your voice once more. You wanted to know so desperately why this man had killed your only and dearest friend.

Hanzo looked at you. With tears in his eyes and remorse in his voice, he spoke, voice barely above a whisper. He couldn’t control his sobs. ‘’I can only apologise, even though it may never change the past.. Killing my brother was my biggest mistake, my biggest regret, my biggest pain. It should have been me who passed away that night. It should have been me, it should have been me! I’m a mistake, I’m a disgrace, I’m a cold hearted murderer. Just because my brother wanted to live his own life away from our misdeeds.. Genji, forgive me..’’ Ending that sentence in tears all over.

You look at him, angrily, but forgivingly. You realise he truly regrets his misdeed. So you decide to comfort him. You hesitantly wrap your arms around him, gently squeezing, as he relaxes into you, tears staining your skin, saying, ‘’Hanzo, I know you regret your past. And what you did was truly unforgivable. But you have to accept what happened to truly accept yourself and make it onto the path of redemption. The bittersweet release of death will never make up for Genji’s passing. But you can make up by doing good, helping the ones who need help.’’

It was then, that everything started to make sense to Hanzo. He needed you, he could not bear to feel this emptying loneliness any longer. He had to forbid you from leaving him.This feeling was foreign to him. Hanzo did not confess, people confessed to him. It was a new feeling, one he could not cope with. He was too stubborn to admit this feeling would defeat him. You part ways before he could say anything else.

He sat in the bar, drowning his feelings in sake. It wasn’t strong enough to mute everything in his mind. But he could not stop thinking about you. No matter what he did, who he talked to. All that was on his mind was you. He had never felt like this ever before, so he had no idea what the hell to do or how to express these feelings. He’d see you around Hanamura, but did not know how to approach or strike up conversation. So, all he could think of... was going to the castle. Hoping and praying he would see you there again, so he could talk to you. But his attempt was hopeless. You never came, not a single time for 2 months. But he would not give up, he never would, remaining steadfast. Even after these 2 months it was only you that was in this mind. Despite all that, life still went on.

Another month passed.

Another two.

A year had gone by.

The day of Genji’s death had come once again, and he had firm hope you’d be at the castle to pay your respects to the younger Shimada. And there you were, finally after a year. He’d see you again. Except, you weren’t alone. You were with someone. You were holding hands. You embraced that person when you couldn’t hold back tears. He had almost given up completely… Until they left. You were all alone again, so you went back to the courtyard. Back to the exact spot where you met Hanzo. Back to the arrow that was still in the wall. You once again grabbed your unfinished painting from last year and your brushes.

As you sat down, you started painting the castle once again.. But something was different. There was no sound, not even the sound of wind. Nothing. You sighed very deeply, disappointed that you did not see him.. The one person you wanted to see all this time. When you finished the painting, you heard a voice. The voice said, ’’You have mastered a skillful art. Where did you learn to paint like that?’’ You recognise that voice. With a smile on your face you turn around to see him. He was standing right there. He hadn’t changed a bit. Like he hadn’t aged at all. ‘’I hoped I would see you here.’’ Hanzo said longingly, hoping for a reaction back. ‘’I… I waited a year for you, why did you never come…?’’ You say.

With a frown on his face he sat down next to you. As he explained everything to you, you got closer to him. To the point you were basically touching each other… Without thinking twice you wrap your arms around him once again, saying, ‘’I’m so sorry. I never knew you didn’t know how to tell me… I should have come to you, Hanzo. I saw you all over Hanamura, yet never thought once to approach, thinking you had better things to do. I regret my hesitation greatly. It’s all okay now, you’ve told me everything.’’

‘’Hanzo.. I know we don’t know each other at all. But I genuinely feel like… Like we have known each other for years.. And I just don’t want to leave you again. It hurt so much last time.. So, promise me.. You won’t leave me this time? Stay by my side, be happy with me…’’ You say with a concerned voice.

‘’I promise.’’ he mutters.

--------------------------------------------------

Hope you enjoyed! Part 2 coming soon.

Posted on Wattpad too.

Written collaboratively by ☆Mod Sakura and ♡Mod Noel

#hanzoshimada #hanzoxreader #hanzo #shimada #hanamura #overwatch #overwatch x reader #mywriting

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noctilucentstorm · 4 years

Text

Fanfic Author’s Game

Thanks for the tag @gossipchii :D

AO3 name(s): JadeLeaf and JadeLeafForest on AO3 (I only recently created it, so it’s not got anything from ff.net on it yet) and JadeLeafForest on ff.net... plus another old ff.net account that is not going to be mentioned here!

Fandoms: Digimon and Psycho Pass. Although in my past life I wrote for Avatar the Last Airbender and other fandoms... wow, I’m old.

Number of fics: Let’s say over 20. I mostly stick to one-shots and ‘in-between scenes’ though, so my average word count is fairly low.

1. Fic I spent the most time on: Ugh, definitely A House A Home .

2. Fic I spent the least time on: Hmm, not quite sure as I don’t time myself. Some fics come together in an afternoon, others take a lot longer. Probably, Family. Week-long challenges are usually the ones that force me to write quickly.

3. Longest fic: A House A Home by quite a margin. I think I wrote a longer fic on my previous account, but it was fairly terrible (and unfinished - see a pattern?)!

4. Shortest fic: Given my shortest fics only end up on Tumblr... looks like it’s Bonds, followed very closely by this one between Koushiro and Taichi.

5. Most hits: Where the Earth Touches the Sky, but that feels a bit like cheating since it’s actually 7 one-shots. Of my one-shots it’s Shenanigans, because we’re all desperate for non-love-triangle Taiorato.

6. Most kudos: Because I set it up like three weeks ago, I’ll stick with ff.net favs: A House A Home, followed very closely by Readjustment.

7. Most comment threads: Surprisingly, Negotiations gets the top spot for one-shots (not that I think it’s bad - but was one of my first real attempts at trying to nail down the Digimon cast). A House A Home takes overall.

8. Favorite fic I wrote: Oof that’s tricky! While it’s not my favourite, and I can already count the flaws, I do really like A House A Home because I had always wanted to write a multi-chapter digimon fic that dealt with... things... that I have not yet gotten to... OTL (some of it is in the next chapter).

9. Fic you want to re-write: Not so much a rewrite, but I am aiming to break up the chapters of A House A Home into more manageable chunks when I finally get to posting it on ao3. I posted such large chapters due to the posting format of the Digimon Bang but really should’ve cut them down early. I know long chapters can be really intimidating. Part of the reason I don’t like multichapter fics is because I struggle to get them done in one go, then lose steam and by the time I get going again I want to rewrite the whole thing!

10. Share bit of a WIP or a story idea you’re planning on: I’m posting the next chapter of A House A Home soon, so won’t bother with that. This scene is from a story I came up with ages ago, but will never get around to writing (@xpearlshippingx I realise this is a bit similar to your prompt, but it is a genuine coincidence and I’m still aiming to get to yours):

He approached her like a shadow. Despite her best efforts, Sora visibly tensed when Yamato called her name. He chuckled, his voice low so no one else in the school hallway could hear. Without giving him time to gloat, Sora calmly turned to face him without a trace of emotion.

He was less than half a step from her, so that she had to look up in order to meet his eyes. The smile on his face was warm and in the background Sora could hear a few girls commenting. Why was Yamato paying attention to her and not me? Their jealous thoughts were like mosquitoes buzzing around her. But they didn’t – couldn’t – see the cruelty in his eyes.

“Did you need to ask me something, Yamato?”

Her tone was strictly business. It was with a heavy heart she thought back to only a month ago when he would stay late to walk her home from tennis practice and they would discuss their hopes and ambitions.

He seemed annoyed at her phrasing, but recovered quickly. Sora awarded herself a point nonetheless and her lips twisted into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. He knew all the ways to hurt her, but she knew his weaknesses as well.

“How is Gabumon?”

There was a moment when he mentioned his partner’s name when Sora thought she saw a hint of her old friend. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the time to dwell on the hope, and whatever it was disappeared in an instant.

“If you miss him, you could always take it off.”

Yamato laughed, knowing exactly what she was referring to. His hand reached towards the upper part of his opposite arm, but jerked away before he even touched the sleeve. Sora’s eyes followed the motion with grim satisfaction, making a mental note of the dark ring’s location.

“Have you always made such fanciful suggestions?”

The bell echoed through the hallway, which signalled the end to their conversation. However, she knew Yamato would need to get in a final hit and he didn’t disappoint. He took her hand loosely in his, and bent his head down just enough to whisper in her ear.

“Good luck in your match today.”

A squeeze of her hand and he was gone. The heat of the sun shone through the windows, but it did little to ease the cold dread that settled in her stomach. Sora made it to class a minute too late, but the teacher only gives her a stern look. She pulled out her notes as quickly and quietly as possible, but stopped when the girl in the seat next to her held out a handkerchief.

Sora was confused for a moment, but her eyes blurred and suddenly she realised she was crying. Quickly, she dug through her bag and pulled out her own handkerchief and showed it to the girl as a way of reassurance, before bending under her desk and angrily swiping the cloth across her face.

However much he upset her, Sora was determined to keep Yamato’s attention. The more he obsessed over hurting her, the less he interfered with the younger Chosen as they tried to defeat the Digimon Kaiser. Maybe Piyomon couldn’t fight, but she could.

#digimon #digimon adventure #fanfic author's game #yamato ishida #Sora Takenouchi #sorato #...although not in a nice way

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angelamoores · 4 years

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Winter Things

A/N: the opening to an unfinished chenry Christmas coffee shop au that may as well be out in the world I guess. Posted on an edited old post because I don’t want to bother anyone with something I never even finished.

JFK wasn’t particularly fun at Christmas time, though this was something Charlotte had been well aware of when she booked her flight home for the holidays. Columbia had finished for the year over a week ago, but her new friends had managed to convince her to stay in town for a little while longer to experience New York’s festivities. That was if three consecutive days shopping at Macy’s really counted as festivities. Served her right for waiting until college to finally get some female friends.

Scanning the board for her flight time, she gripped her suitcase handle a little too tight. Please don’t be cancelled, please don’t be cancelled, please don’t be cancelled.

“ALL FLIGHTS CANCELLED DUE TO WEATHER”

Fucking snow. It’s not like she hadn’t been expecting it, she’d seen the beginning of every holiday rom-com. The only reason she’d even bothered withstanding the gruelling taxi drive through the blizzard was that she had no idea what the hell to do next. What she did know was that there was no point staying in the airport with a bunch of swearing tourists any longer than absolutely necessary.

She hailed a cab back to the city center with a strong sense of deja vu. How the hell was she going to tell her mom she probably wouldn’t be home for Christmas? She still had time before she would have to call her, not that procrastinating was going to make the situation any better.

Once Charlotte was back on the busy streets of New York, she was suddenly overcome with the overwhelming urge for a hot drink. Not Starbucks though, or any of the hipster dumps where people cared more about what the cup looks like than how the actual drink tasted. What she really wanted was a Vanilla Chai Latte from Frank’s in her home town, but that was pretty much impossible now. So instead she just kept walking until she found a little cafe that looked comically out of place in the big city. It was no Frank’s, but it’d do.

It was upon entering that she realised just how empty the place was, despite the freezing cold outside. It didn’t exactly speak well of the place, but she was there now and the warmth was far too inviting to leave.

“A Starbucks just opened across the street,” a voice told her, seemingly able to read her mind. It came from a blond boy behind the counter that must’ve been around her age. He was tall, almost lanky, with a few loose curls of hair falling from beneath his cap that read ‘Susie’s Coffee, est. 1968.’

“I see,” she replied, approaching the counter feeling more nervous than before. “I suppose you’re Susie?” She mused in a feeble attempt to break the tension.

“In the flesh,” the boy replied with a laugh that told her he hadn’t expected that kinda response. A short silence followed and it became apparent that they were the only ones in there. That was apart from an old lady sat by the window, too engrossed in her crossword to pay any mind to what they were doing.

“I’m Henry, Henry Hart.” Charlotte didn’t know why the boy had felt it was important for her to know his real name when she was just a customer, then again it had been a slow day from the looks of it.

“Charlotte. Page-Bolton.” She hesitated between the words, not sure whether to give him her full name.

“Double barrel,” Henry The Barista nodded and she didn’t really know how to respond to that. The Christmas song that been playing ended and another began. Judging by the look on his face, it wasn’t the first time that song had played that day.

Not exactly sure what to do next, Charlotte looked around and noticed there was a stool by the counter, three in fact. Figuring that there was no need to sit completely alone when Henry clearly had nothing else to do, she hopped up onto it and set her suitcase down beside her.

“Alright blondie, fancy making me a drink?” She asked, her boredom turning to confidence. He jumped away from the wall he’d been leaning on as if only just realising he was supposed to be working.

“You do know this isn’t a bar, right? Also I literally just told you my name.” Charlotte rested her head in her hands and and stared at him with pursed lips. “Fine, okay, what can I get for you today, miss?” He smirked as he slipped into his customer service voice.

“One vanilla chai latte please, sir.” He gave her look that might as well have told her to go to the Starbucks across the street. They had a stare down, but once it was clear she wasn’t budging he pulled out a binder of drink recipes and began to flip through it.

“Not a popular drink?” She laughed as he frowned at the instructions before him.

“People come to Susie’s for coffee. Maybe a muffin,” he grumbled. The truth was people didn’t really come to Susie’s for anything anymore, though that probably had something to do with their refusal for any sort of promotional drink.

“I only drink coffee on finals week. Though now that you mention it, I could go for a muffin.” Somewhere along the line, her tone had switched from friendly to flirty. She could chalk this up to boredom, too, but something about how often she’d found herself staring into his brown eyes told her otherwise.

Her thoughts were interrupted by her phone ringing on the counter beside her. Her mom. Great. She held up a finger to Henry to let him know she’d only be a sec before answering the call.

“Charlotte! I just got an email to say your flight was canceled!” Her mom yelled. Of course she had, she was the one who paid for the flight. Henry, who must have heard her mother’s screeching through the phone, widened his eyes at her in amusement.

“Yes, mom, I know-”

“You know? And you didn’t call me?” She was quieter now, and Charlotte could tell she’d upset her. It was her first year away at college and one of her promises was that she’d be home for Christmas.

“I was going to,” she paused, fiddling with her necklace with her spare hand. “But I know how important this was to you, I couldn’t ruin the holidays for you just yet.”

“I’m sorry, honey. This isn’t your fault,” her mom sighed, and they both fell silent. In front of her, Henry had just placed a muffin down, knocking the almost complete drink over in the process.

“Fuck!” He exclaimed as the glass hit the floor and she couldn’t help but laugh. Henry mumbled an apology, but the damage was done.

“Who was that?”

#chenry #henry danger #henry hart #charlotte page bolton #my writing #fic #au

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my-miraculous-headcanons · 5 years

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Metal Heart [TEXT VER.]

So, this was an AU that I had posted on my Twitter because I hadn’t known how to format it coherently on Tumblr. But it’s here now!

This AU was inspired when I listened to This Audio after having gone through an Astro Boy phase. I left it unfinished, but I’m pretty sure I’m going to write the story out, so you’ll find out the ending and the Ladrien plot later.

OKAY so https://maximilian-alexander.tumblr.com/post/181533777041/bassiter-something-about-us-by-daft-punk-except … this song inspired me to think up a Robot post apocalyptic AU with Marinette working in her little workshop and Chat Noir being the robot she created. A Ladrien ver. happens in the far future, after Mari grows old and dies blah blah blah

Mari makes a Chat Noir robot, but he doesn't have a built in suit or anything like that he just nakey lmao bc I want him to wear street clothes. Mari's in a post-apocalyptic world where machines have taken over and pretty much EVERYTHING is littered with trash and scrap metal.

She's lonely af and hey, turns out she's a genius with technology. (I also wanna point out this is partially inspired by Astro Boy.) She listens to that song while working on creating Chat Noir, stealthily hiding away from the outside world filled with murderous anti-human robots

Her attempt at making Chat Noir is a HUGE success, and she pretty much bawls tears of joy when he wakes up and looks around like an actual human being. He's not really a newborn, she programmed him with a healthy amount of maturity and worldly knowledge.

Chat Noir is very protective almost immediately. He's a robot in a 15 yo boy's body looking at this tiny 13 yo, lonely robotics prodigy, in a world where his kind would typically murder her at first glance. He doesn't understand it. He has human emotions. Mari's so nice.

Frankly, after two years of spending time with Marinette, he doesn't WANT to understand the other robots. He doesn't care. He thinks they're filthy and dumb. Mari's a gift, and if any of them come so much as a 50 foot radius near her he'll take his steel claws and SHRED THEM.

After those first two years of spending time together, Marinette's food supply runs short. She won't be able to make it another year with what they have. She'll be lucky if she'll make it for another month. Chat Noir runs on sunlight. He'll be fine. But... She won't.

Marinette is ready to accept her fate. She's happy her last two years on earth had been filled with childish duets, silly dancing, games, etc... She's glad she spent them with Chat Noir. He, on the other hand, is devastated. He doesn't want to be alone. He CAN'T be without her.

He starts going out frequently, scavenging for food he can find her. He rations out her food to make it last longer, even though she tells him it'll be useless. He's going mad— all the abandoned food marts etc have already been ransacked by other survivors. There's NOTHING.

He goes out farther. He travels into the danger zone, littered with machines and dead bodies. One machine catches sight of him, identifies his human-like body, and nearly destroys him. He comes back to Marinette with half the skin on his face melted off, showing the metal parts.

Despite how absolutely horrified Mari was of that incident, he keeps going out, farther and farther, destroying enemies along the way. He eventually takes out all the robots in the danger zone and is able to move past it— and he finally finds it. He finds what he's looking for.

Seeds. Plants. Soil, too. And unraided markets filled with canned foods. He stuffs as much as he can into a duffel bag he found laying around and comes back home. Marinette is surprised, and touched. She remembers back to when she used to garden with her mother. She teaches him.

Soon they have thriving plants with tomatoes, strawberries, etc. Soon they have a couple of fruit trees growing outside. Chat Noir is ecstatic. Marinette is happy, too, but she doesn't know how to tell him that this can't last. That eventually, she will die.

Be it starvation, dehydration, disease, or even being discovered by one of the machines outside, she will die. She won't make it to old age. She lets him have this moment, though.

She builds a new body for him a year later, this one a couple years older, about 17-18 years old. He loves it, he loves the fact that he'll /technically/ be able to grow with Marinette. She transfers his memories into the new body, and he takes a while trying to get used to it.

More years pass by, Chat Noir upgrades to another body, and things are comfortable. They still listen to that song Marinette was listening to when she first made him. It's her favourite. It's his favourite too, but mostly because it's hers.

Chat Noir starts finding other forms of entertainment, because Marinette is busy working on his next body and he already went on a raid for more nonperishable food. He finds an abandoned library and falls in love with science journals and, most importantly, romance novels.

His typical experience with humanity is almost solely based on Marinette. He had thought that, possibly, they were all the same. That they all were kind and fun and wonderful. Reading helped him realise that his initial presumption was mistaken.

People could be cruel. People had different quirks, and personalities, and different ways of going about certain situations. People even loved differently. There's platonic love, sibling love, parental love, and romantic love. He finds himself very interested in romantic love.

He wasn't all-knowledgable. He wasn't programmed with everything, only with the capacity to learn whatever he wished. He already knew about cuddling and hugs, at least— Marinette had mentioned that she had gone YEARS without being affectionately touched before she had made him.

Kissing was new, though. Holding hands was also new, they certainly never did that unless one of them was trying to drag the other somewhere. Sex was new, and very strange, but the way it's described in romance novels in comparison to health books made it sound intriguing.

It sounded intimate. He's surprised that there's ways to be even closer to someone than he already is with Marinette. He wonders if she'd be interested in a romantic relationship, although considering he was never programmed to know about it, he doubts it. He wishes, though.

Kissing, at least, he knew could be platonic. Pecks on the cheek, or on the forehead. He wants to do anything he could to get even closer to Marinette, to discover things about her that he didn't already know. The first time he kisses her cheek, she's surprised, but happy.

Kissing becomes a regular thing. Chat does it more and more frequently as days go by. Marinette has no idea where he learned it from, but she isn't complaining. A part of her is really happy that he chooses to do it, even though he isn't programmed to.

At some point Chat Noir is almost painfully aware that his feelings for Marinette are not at all platonic. He constantly wants to hold her, to sing to her, to cuddle her and kiss her and he fantasizes the image of her lips on his own. He's absolutely in love with her.

He has no idea what to do about it. He reads even more romance novels in hopes of some advice on how to win her heart. He makes the mistake of reading a shoujo manga. He comes back home and starts flirting with corny jokes and a fake rose and Marinette is dying of laughter

Chat Noir mopes for a long while after that attempt because he tried really hard to win her heart he DID okay, it's not his fault that Marinette obviously does not appreciate the fine art of humour and flirting

She slowly eases him out of his little self pity party by bribing him with video games. She absolutely decimates him in those games but he has to admit that he loves playing with her, especially when they work together on hard mode to defeat the computer AI.

He makes another attempt much later after reading a well-written romance novel. This one details a romantic dinner with a candle-lit atmosphere under the moonlight. He loves the idea, so he gathers up candles and fake flowers and a tablecloth. He finds two unbroken wine glasses.

He looks for a safe place on the surface where he'd be able to spot any danger at night. Marinette rarely ever ventures out in fear of being killed by a wandering machine. He doesn't want her to be scared on his romantic dinner date, so he needs to find the perfect spot.

He finds a place, a little far off but perfect. In the books he's read, it's called the Eiffel Tower. There's an apartment at the very top, and from the looks of it, it's been long abandoned. It used to be in the center of the danger zone, but Chat took care of that years ago.

It's safe and has a magnificent view. Mari would love it. He sets everything up, and even manages to find a bottle of aged wine in the luxury apartment. He also finds some music that he's never heard before, something by some guy named Jagged Stone. The ballad's his favourite.

He comes back home with a really wide grin and Marinette is super suspicious the entire time. He says that he's setting up a surprise for her and she's going to love it. She's wondering if he's read another shitty shoujo manga again and is a bit nervous.

Aaaand this is where I left off. That’s the end, folks! Sorry.

I still remember how this AU ends, which later becomes the beginning of the Ladrien version of this AU. It’s sad, but a happy kind of sad, if that makes sense? Spoiler alert— Both Chat Noir and Marinette live long, happy lives together.

Anyways, for once, I feel like this is an AU I don’t want anyone using without my input. I’ll always be in love with this AU, and I may very well write for it in the future. In fact, I have a clear vision on how I’d write both the Marichat version and the Ladrien version at the same time. It involves Adrien sobbing. Hehehe.

If you guys want the general outline on how everything turns up, and how the Ladrien spinoff fits in, just ask and I’ll make a separate post about it. I remember crying when I was daydreaming about it the first time I thought of it. It may be a tearjerker for some.

#Maximilian Speaks #Miraculous Ladybug #ML #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Marinette Dupain Cheng #Adrien Agreste #Marichat #Ladrien #long post #Metal Heart AU #Love Square #Reverse Love Square #(Kind of? All four of them are separate people so it's not actually the love square but well. That's the name of the general ship right??)#Chat Noir Has A Crush On Marinette #Marinette Has A Crush on Chat Noir

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