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pitviperofdoom · 2 years

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HELLO YOU HAVE PROBABLY DONE THESE but if you're still doing the wip game then: reverse isekai AU and witch jon!!

OH MY GOD it took me so long to get to this. I already talked about reverse isekai here so, witch jon!

Witch Jon AU, Fairy Tale AU, Spiderwitch Jon AU, and variations of the above are all names I use for my series in which Jon is a fairy tale witch and fairy tale things happen to him and the various characters around him. It's called Spin, Spider, Spin and you can find the four current stories here.

This AU like many of my AUs is endgame JonGerryMartin, and the three of them are the main focus of the stories that are already up, with the first three depicting their respective backstories before the three of them all finally come together in the fourth. I definitely have future plans for the three of them, but I think the next couple of stories are going to shift away from them a bit. The one I recently started working on is two stories in one, starring Tim and Sasha!

One of my favorite things to do with this AU is play around with fairy tale tropes and archetypes; previous stories have featured curses, witches, dutiful children, brave huntsmen, and couples seeking childbearing help from the local wise magic-user. Fun fact, Gerry's story was one long homage to Vasilisa the Beautiful. Future stories currently fermenting in my brain include a somewhat loose, Daisy-centric take on Beauty and the Beast, and a Georgie/Melanie tale inspired by the Twelve Dancing Princesses, with maybe a bit of Orpheus thrown in if I can wiggle it in there.

The (hopefully) next story about Tim and Sasha takes from several stories, with Tim's part subverting the "youngest child always wins" trope, and Sasha's part taking more than a few pages from Bluebeard. Fair warning, it's probably going to be the grimmest one so far, but not without hope at the end.

Here's the first part!

---

It begins, as these things often do, with a set of brothers.

There are two of them, one elder and one younger, and of course that can only mean one thing. Younger siblings are good for only one thing in stories, and that is greatness.

Danny Stoker is every bit a younger son—kindhearted and curious, intrepid and bold in all the ways his older brother is not. He ventures into danger with courage and cleverness, and escapes by the skin of his teeth with a rich reward in hand. As a child he gets lost in the woods for three days and returns with scorched hands and a bag of silver pilfered from a witch’s hut. As a youth he vanishes down a well for three weeks and returns with diamonds dropping from his lips. As a young man he leaves home for three years and returns a war hero with the favor of a princess.

All the while, Tim Stoker grows up in an increasingly prosperous home. He is everything that Danny is not: content with his lot, unbothered by wanderlust, clever enough but in no hurry to prove it to the world. He stays safe at home with his studies and pastimes, and always welcomes his brother with a smile and an embrace. He listens attentively when Danny tells his stories, teasing him over every new embellishment. Some people might mistake his jokes for barbs, or search behind his smiles for flashes of envy.

Some people just don’t know Tim Stoker very well.

“I wish you’d stop,” he sighs, exaggerated to make his younger brother laugh. “One of these days you’ll come home with a crown and a kingdom. It was fun to watch you spit up gemstones when we were kids, but I don’t think I could stomach being royalty.”

Danny laughs, as he’d hoped, and leans in for a conspiratorial whisper. “To tell you the truth, neither could I,” he says. “It sounds horribly boring. You know, when they introduced me to the princess I was half terrified they’d make me marry her.”

“And how did she feel about it?”

“I saw her face when she came out to greet me,” Danny tells him with a grin. “It was like looking in a mirror.”

It’s Tim’s turn to laugh. “She sounds sensible! You’ll have to introduce me to her.”

His words are only half serious, but not three days later his younger brother is pushing him into the presence of the most strikingly beautiful woman he has ever met. She has soft brown eyes and dark curls that she can barely keep tamed, and when her attendants are out of sight she lets herself properly laugh. Her name is Alexandra, but when Tim calls her that, she gives him the most pained look that he’s ever seen and begs him to call her Sasha.

There is one area in which Tim excels where his brother falls short; he is much, much better at falling in love.

#witch jon au #tma fic #ask box meme #timsasha

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dinosaurtsukki · 4 years

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across the sea | a bokuaka fanfic (act. III)

inspired by the movie ‘portrait of a lady on fire’ by celine sciamma which is sad and lesbian

pairing: bokuto koutarou x akaashi keiji

word count: 21.8k words

contains: historical setting (actually the setting is vague bec if i tried to describe it more it would take 5 extra pages), heavy angst, slight fluff, greek mythology references, implied smut

summary: when Bokuto accepted a portrait commission for the young, engaged Akaashi Keiji, he never expected him to be so beautiful. he knows it's a mistake to be attached, a mistake for them to fall in love in a time when they know it's impossible for them to be together.

a/n: i’m a sad gay who loves sad lesbian movies and portait of a lady on fire is peak film. a lot of the things here are based on the film so i suggest you check out this beautiful movie, but i added a few tweaks here and there to make it my own.

chapters: act. I, act. II., act. III

Bokuto only saw Akaashi two more times since he last left the Elysium Manor. The first time was three years after that unforgettable summer in a secluded house. Thanks to finishing the portrait commission that pleased Mikoto, a woman of relatively high social standing, Bokuto gained a bit more status within the artist circles. Rich nobles commissioned him for portraits, scholars and other writers and artists commissioned him to create paintings of fantastical scenes, and almost any painting that he made was guaranteed a spot in a museum. Bokuto was invited to join the upper social circles at their dinners and luncheons or visits to the opera, but he would politely decline. He couldn’t imagine himself being a part of that social circle and let them paint a picture of mystery around him.

Instead, he decided to teach. He used his money to open a studio for young artists and taught them the basics of sketching and painting with different mediums, instructing them the way his master did. Bokuto had his own studio situated on the floor above where he would teach that came with a bedroom. At night, he’d open the windows for the smell of turpentine and oil to air out, but he’d keep the windows closed, the lights off, and the backdoor open for Kuroo to come in.

He was a male model, one quite famous with fellow artists for being a good one. There were probably a number of sculptures in the nearby museum, Asphodel, based on his physique. He didn’t discriminate when it came to preferring the company of men and women and hit his preferences just as well as Bokuto did. Kuroo was a nice man, a kind one, and Bokuto knew that maybe the dark-haired model had feelings for him. And yet, he never crossed that line. Most likely, Kuroo could see that faraway look in Bokuto’s eyes when he woke up in the morning, his eyes searching for the sea and whatever was across it.

The first time he saw Akaashi was in Asphodel. Bokuto had recently finished a painting that was going to be a centerpiece in their main gallery. On that day, he wore his best shirt and tried to wet his hair and comb it down but to no avail. ‘It’s alright. You’re known for your skills. Not your looks,’ he told himself before putting on a coat and heading out to leave.

The museum was already packed when he arrived with a good number of people circled around his painting. Bokuto pushed his way through the crowd, muttering ‘Excuse me’ along the way, until he was standing near it with his back to the wall. He was aware that he was drawing attention to himself looking like a sentinel instead of the painter but he couldn’t help but wonder about the things people would say. One of the viewers, a young couple, were in conversation as they scanned the painting.

“It’s that Greek legend, isn’t it? The one with Orpheus.”

“Yes. And his wife Eurydice. He traveled to the Underworld after she died with the hope of being able to bring her to life again.”

“I remember! But then there was a condition, right? He couldn’t turn around.”

“That’s right. Although… most painters and writers depict Eurydice already just as Orpheus turned around. In this one, it’s as if he turned around just in time to see her fall.”

“Kind of like he expected it?”

“Maybe. It’s quite an interesting take, if you ask me.”

“Indeed, it is.”

Bokuto smiled to himself, satisfied at the exchange generated by his painting. It was all about the exchanges, the different conversations that his art generated. He stayed by his painting for a few more minutes, listening to conversations, before deciding to stroll through the museum and peruse the other collections. His best sources of inspiration were other artists, but during this visit, it wasn’t just inspiration he found.

It was another portrait of Akaashi Keiji.

It hung in one of the museum wings that they dedicated to portraits. Bokuto rarely needed inspiration for those but something about that day pulled him into the wing to view the collections until he caught a familiar painted face. ‘Is it really him?’ he wondered, eyes flying to the placard to the right that confirmed his suspicions: Portrait of Akaashi Keiji, oil on canvas. It was him. In the portrait, Akaashi was sitting on a chair, elbows on a desk, hands holding up a book. His posture was impeccable as always but his face was completely absorbed in what he was reading. But it was him: same high cheekbones, same curly brown hair, same delicate fingers, same emerald eyes.

Bokuto didn’t know how long he stood there just drinking in the portrait and attempted to memorize every detail when he came to the book in Akaashi’s hands. The worn spine, the burgundy leather jacket, even the size of it: it was his book on Greek Mythology. The book was angled just so, enough for the viewer to see the top corner of the righthand page. “Page 57,” Bokuto whispered, overcome with sheer sadness and joy at the encounter, “You remember.”

The second and last time Bokuto saw Akaashi happened two years later at the Museum Greek History, this time in a different city. Bokuto was there working on a commission for a noblewoman who wanted portraits of each of her children. It was a lot of work, but the money was good and he got to see much of the city. Bokuto decided to explore the museum during a day off. His favorite part was the collection of ancient texts and scrolls that were each displayed in a glass case. He couldn’t read anything that was written, but he liked knowing that they had such a collection. ‘Maybe this time they won’t keep the homosexual subtext out of translation,’ he thought with a smile. He still held out hope that maybe someday, people would accept that Achilles and Patroclus were lovers.

With that thought in mind, Bokuto decided he was done looking around for the day and get ready for the amount of work he would have to do on the way back home. He was walking down the flights of stairs, deep in thought, when a voice shook him out of his thoughts.

“Bokuto-san.”

He had to hold onto the railing to keep himself from falling. It was just like that time he saw Akaashi’s portrait two years ago. Nobody else said his name like that: all crisp syllables and with more than a little warmth in the tone. Bokuto remembered the last time he actually saw Akaashi back at Elysium Manor, and turned around.

There he was, standing at the top of the staircase. He looked as if five years had barely laid a finger on him and looked just as surprised as Bokuto did. Akaashi took a hesitant step forward and walked down two steps. Bokuto felt as if he was back in Elysium Manor as their surroundings fell away.

“It’s you.”

“It’s me.”

“H-how… how have you been?” Bokuto stammered. So many questions overwhelmed his mind and yet he could only pick out that one. An inkling of a smile appeared on Akaashi’s face as he nodded his head in understanding. ‘Even now, we still have this connection,’ Bokuto thought.

“I’m alright. Married. We live in a nice house. My wife is kind, beautiful, friendly. Sometimes we play card games at night,” he enumerated, tapping absentmindedly at the railing of the stairway. “A good life actually.” He looked back at Bokuto. ‘But you’re not in it,’ he seemed to say. “How about you?”

“I could say the same,” Bokuto managed a smile. “My paintings have been pretty famous. I get commissioned often. I teach young artists. I make enough to keep my studio and do some traveling here and there.”

“Sounds like a good life.”

“It does.” But it was just that: good. Bokuto opened his mouth to say something when a child came running down the staircase from above.

“Father!” he exclaimed, barreling into Akaashi’s side. ‘Father,’ Bokuto echoed in his mind. The little boy looked to be about five or four years old. He mostly took after his mother as he had fair hair and fair skins, but when Bokuto looked at closer, he could tell that the boy had his father’s eyes.

“Hiro. Please don’t run down the stairs, you could slip,” Akaashi gently scolded him, leaning down a bit to fix his tie. It was such a small gesture but it made Bokuto’s heart ache just to watch.

“I saw this really cool looking spear in the Weapons Wing. It looked just like the one in the book you read to me!” the young boy exclaimed excitedly.

“Is that so? I hope you remember it well then,” Akaashi fondly patted his son’s head before turning to Bokuto. “Hiro, this is one of my… good friends, Bokuto. Bokuto, this is Hiro. My son.”

“Nice to meet you,” Bokuto smiled down at him. Hiro cocked his head and waved shyly, making Bokuto chuckle. “He has your eyes, Akaashi.” During the past five years, Bokuto had held out hope that maybe he and Akaashi would cross paths again, that maybe they could run away like what Akaashi dreamed of. But now, he knew that he was too late. Ever since he left Elysium Manor, it was all too late for that.

“It was great seeing you again, Akaashi,” Bokuto cleared his throat and feigned a smile. “I… I have to take my leave now.” He didn’t want to leave. With every fiber of his being, he didn’t want to leave. He would hold this encounter in his heart for the rest of his life but nothing good would come out of him speaking his mind.

“Alright, say goodbye, Hiro,” Akaashi said, tight-lipped. ‘You know it too,’ Bokuto thought.

“Bye,” Hiro waved shyly. Just as Bokuto was about to turn and leave, Akaashi quickly ran down the rest of the steps and wrapped both of his arms around him before he could say anything. Bokuto held his arms awkwardly at his sides before wrapping them around Akaashi’s waist. He wondered how much Akaashi had tried to hold himself back from doing this.

“Koutarou,” he whispered. “Until now, do you…?”

“I do. I think of you every single day,” Bokuto whispered back. “I still love you, Keiji.”

“I’m glad,” Akaashi swallowed and pulled back, leaving the feeling of that loss of warmth that Bokuto would carry with him for the rest of his life. And with that, he nodded once, and left.

Five more years passed. Bokuto had begun to grow tired of the fame and attention and decided to move to a provincial town along the coast. He left his studio to one of his young apprentices, packed up his materials, and bought a small house with a garden that sat near a cliff, overlooking the sea. He still painted, it was something he never grew tired of, but he chose to paint nature or the people at the countryside instead of the portraits of noblemen and fantastical scenes. He liked getting to know his neighbors, going to the festivals held at the town square, and looking out of his window to see the birds that chirped on the trees or dove into the sea for food. He was sitting on his chair outside, trying to sketch the charming woodpecker he saw that morning from memory, when Kageyama came.

“If it isn’t Elysium Manor’s most loyal butler,” Bokuto grinned at him as he saw the familiar head of black hair approach his porch. He looked different from the last time Bokuto saw him. His arms were thicker and his complexion was slightly tanned. But it was still him.

“It took a while for me to find you, Bokuto,” he returned the smile.

“Find me?” Bokuto said, puzzled. “Did you suddenly become a fan of my paintings?”

“No, it’s…” Kageyama paused and exhaled, the look on his face somber. “Can we talk inside?” Bokuto felt his stomach drop. He knew he wasn’t going to like whatever it is Kageyama was going to say.

“Sure. I’ll make tea.”

Once they were sitting at the table with two mugs of tea between them, Kageyama broke the news.

“Akaashi-san passed away last winter.”

The news hit Bokuto like cold water to the face. Akaashi Keiji. The man that Bokuto had loved ten summers ago. The man he just saw five years ago. The one that haunted him at midnight, tossing and turning and longing for that touch and wondering about all the what-could-have-been’s. His Akaashi Keiji. His Akaashi Keiji whose sketch Bokuto still kept in a small pocketbook close to his heart. Who grew up a lonely, sickly boy in a house full of books. His Akaashi Keiji, who would mumble ‘Koutarou’ every time they woke up together during those numbered mornings. His Akaashi Keiji.

“I’m sorry, Bokuto. I truly am,” Kageyama sighed, reaching out to touch his fingertips.

“How—how did you know?” he stammered.

“I received a letter,” he said. “It said that he contracted tuberculosis from a trip abroad and, well you know how sickly he is. He wasn’t able to survive it.”

“God…” Bokuto rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I… I didn’t think… of all things…”

“I know,” Kageyama nodded. “The letter said that I was mentioned in Akaashi-san’s will. He entrusted two items to me to deliver to you.” With that, he pulled a package wrapped in brown paper and tied with twin from his satchel and placed it on the table. Bokuto made no move to accept it. All he wanted was Akaashi back. He didn’t care if had to take ten, twenty more years for them to meet again. He just wanted to know he was alive somewhere and still thinking of him.

“I…I think I know why he had these sent to me instead of having them delivered directly to you,” Kageyama cleared his throat. “Akaashi-san cared about you, and yes, I know he cared about you in that way. I could see it in the way he looked at you. I was skeptical at first of your relationship but ten years after, the moments I witnessed of the two you stand out starkly.”

At this, Bokuto could feel himself collapse with his head on the table, the dam of tears finally breaking as he sobbed into his arms. “It’s true. We did love each other.”

“I know he thought of you in those last moments,” Kageyama consoled him. “You were too important for him to think of breaking the news to you through just a letter.”

Bokuto didn’t know how long he had cried there on the table for. He could hear Kageyama busying himself in the kitchen and the smell of dinner being cooked, as if they were both back at Elysium Manor. Finally, when his tears had all run out, he sat up to open the package that Akaashi had entrusted to Kageyama. Inside, there were two books: the Greek Mythology book that Akaashi loved so much, much worn down than the last time Bokuto had used it to sketch a portrait of himself, and a soft, leather-bound notebook.

It was late so Kageyama stayed the night and slept on a roll-out cot beside Bokuto’s bed before he left the next morning. “It’s a nice place,” he told him, as they stood at the cliffside overlooking the sea. “I could see why you chose to be here.”

The next few months after that was the longest that Bokuto spent without painting. Every time he tried to pick up a brush or a piece of drawing charcoal, his hands shook and all he could see in front of him was the half-finished portrait of Akaashi, and Akaashi himself posing in the distance. And at night, he’d find himself looking over his shoulder more than once to see that vision of his beloved, pale as a ghost.

Finally, he picked up the leather notebook that Akaashi left for him. He had expected it to be a diary but it ended up being slightly more than that. It was a story: about a lonely boy who spent his days reading books in an empty house and the beautiful painter who entered his life and made it worth living. ‘He came on a little lifeboat from across the sea,’ it began. Bokuto found himself tearing up again at the sight of Akaashi’s handwriting.

Every day, little by little, he read a bit more of the story, mostly while he was sitting on a chair near the cliffside. He relived everything: the time Akaashi drank the sea from his cupped hands, the look on his face when he saw the ruined portrait, Akaashi dancing around the maypole with his crown of chrysanthemums, the summer night kiss, the feeling of their bodies pressed together, the sound of his voice when he read out loud, Akaashi’s emerald green suit in the portrait, their last night together, the morning after and the sketches to remember each other by, Akaashi illuminated by a single shaft of light in the middle of the floor, the portrait of him hanging in the museum with the pages of his book turned to the 57th page, the last time Bokuto heard Akaashi say his name.

At the very last page of the notebook was a note, directly addressed to him: I know for a fact that there are others like us, Koutarou. Afraid of the punishment, afraid of the scorn. I don’t think I’ve ever cared about what people would think of me once I died, but if there is one thing I want people to remember about me, its that I was yours, always yours. Maybe someday there will be a place for people like us, a better place. And I want them to know that we’ve always been around. We’ve hid. We’ve suffered. We’ve lost. But we’ve also loved.

“We have loved, haven’t we Akaashi?” Bokuto whispered, closing the notebook. He knew that he was going to finally pick up his charcoals and later on, his brush. He remembered what Akaashi said about how texts were continuously misinterpreted to remove the homoerotic subtext and as much as he knew it would be difficult to do so with Akaashi’s journal, Bokuto wanted to further ensure how history would remember them. He would sketch and paint everything he could possibly remember. But for now, he wanted to finish his day staring out across the sea.

Kageyama knew why Bokuto purposely chose to make his home here. The town and house he lived in was just on the other side of the sea, across where Elysium Manor still reportedly stood. Nobody went there and it was still Akaashi’s name, but the land and the manor would eventually be donated to the nearby town. Under the condition that Akaashi Keiji’s final resting place wouldn’t be disturbed.

“That clause in his will was only allowed for me to hear,” Kageyama had said a few months ago before he left. “That small plot of land next to where Akaashi-san is buried is entrusted to me to be passed on to you. Bokuto-san, I will ensure that that will be your final resting place. And if I pass on before you, I will entrust the task to my nephew. I can promise you that.”

“You do love your Greek myths, don’t you Akaashi?” Bokuto smiled to himself. He could almost hear his laugh in the back of his mind. As he looked out to the sea, he could just barely make out what lay across it. It made Bokuto remember how Orpheus and Eurydice’s tale truly ended. After losing his wife a second time, Orpheus wandered the Earth, lost and mourning, until he was torn apart and killed by Maenads, Dionysus’ traveling followers. When Orpheus soul traveled down to the Underworld, Eurydice was there, standing on the banks of the River Styx, arms outstretched to her lover who finally came home.

#across the sea #bokuaka #bokuto koutarou #akaashi keiji #bokuaka fanfic #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! fanfic #across the sea: act. III

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blissfulalchemist · 4 years

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25 and 29 combo for CatRaf?

Jo, okay this made my heart sing a little. 🥰💜 I hope you enjoy it. @risenlucifer I hope I bring your man some justice. Music quoted: x x either version fits.

25. Wet kisses after finding refuge from the rain. 29. Staring at each other’s lips for a moment before moving closer, as if drawn together by some unseen force.

“Thank you for inviting me to come with you,” Catlina rubbed her arms as her coat did little to rid the chill of the night. The main culprit had to be the dress with its short length and the heels that while cute, it was obvious their strappy design were never meant for rainy nights in Montana. “I still can’t believe that there was a mix up where you ended up getting a spare ticket,” she brushed some falling hair behind her ear avoiding Rafael’s eyes, heat running up her cheeks. This wasn’t a date, she knew that, they were just friends and that was fine. Especially since the last time they hung out alone was a few months ago, when she had a bit too much drink and kissed him on impulse. She’d ran out afterwards and avoided him for almost two weeks before Wes had called saying he needed a partner for game night.

“Well I figured you would appreciate it as much as I would,” Raf uncharacteristically had his hands in his pockets as he smiled at Cat keeping his distance. To him she was very much acting like the nickname he had graced her when they first met face to face. One wrong move and she surely would run, better to play it safe. “Tell me though Conejito, what was your favorite part?”

Cat looked up to the upcoming intersection, did they really park this far away from the theatre, “The ending.” She held up a finger to him already hearing his intake of breath, “And not because the opera was over. It had a happy ending, which I always enjoy especially since operas seemed to be associated with sad endings.” She shivered feeling her feet start to hurt from walking in the heels, “I had heard of the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice but I only remember the ending where he loses her because he loves her so much he has to look back to her.”

Raf hummed, “One could make the argument that if he really loved her he wouldn’t have looked,” he stepped in front of her walking backwards for a few steps noticing how Cat was starting to shiver, “You should take my jacket.”

She shook her head holding her hand up, “You’ll be cold if you give it to me,” she pulled her jacket closer together, ”That’s a good point but looks at love like it’s something you always decide on. Love is a feeling, Raf, and sometimes it’s just so big of a feeling that you can’t really hold it in.” Cat looked away from his eyes, Oh please don’t mention-.

“I feel like you have more experience with that notion,” he gave her a wink smiling, she wanted to hide her face. It was the first real mention of that kiss between the two of them, she was never going to live it down now. “I’m not saying you're wrong by the way. I quite enjoy the ending myself, the music really helped set the emotion of the reunion of Orpheus and Eurydice.” The two had stopped their walking under a streetlight silent. Cat remembered now, the car was about three blocks the direction they just came from. The faint music from a late night cafe three stores down, across the street, made its way down to their ears, the tune overtaking Catlina’s mind as she unconsciously stepped closer to Raf.

“Yeah, I think I read in the program that the music was what made this opera so different. The music helped tell the story,” she looked to his hands, gently reaching for one of them a drop of rain landing on the top of her hand. Cat looked up feeling more drops falling onto her face, Raf following her lead. She couldn’t help but laugh as the rain picked up speed and volume.

There was a delay in the two of them moving as it started to pour. Once both of their hair was undeniably wet Raf took her hand running them to the cafe awning both laughing once they were safe, trying to catch their breath. There was little protection from the rain as they tested the locked glass door. Looking into the building they saw the workers closing up for the night, the two of them would have to wait out the rain.

“Guess it’s a good thing I didn’t take your coat,” Cat told him between her lingering laughter, “you’d be soaked through. I’d never hear the end of it.”

He shook his head, some droplets landing on Cat, “It’s quite possible you’re not going to still.” He pushed his way closer to Cat, “Move over so I can get a little more shelter.”

She inhaled sharply as they became inches apart, feeling the warmth of his body. She looked up to his eyes, his smile brightening them in the dim light, his hands were warming up her upper arms. She had read the signs all wrong, or was she projecting her feelings for him, desperate for him to feel the same as she did. “I think that possibly, maybe I'm falling for you. Yes, there's a chance that I've fallen quite hard over you.”

She searched his face for any indication that the impulse she was feeling would be safe to do. Her heart raced as her eyes landed on his lips, feeling his right hand run up her arm to the side of her face, his thumb running softly over her cheek. “No one understands me quite like you do. Through all of the shadowy corners of me.” Her eyes caught him searching her features, possibly for his own signs to move forward with his intentions. The rain pattered away as the two stood there, “I've seen the waters that make your eyes shine, now I'm shining too.” Both got caught up in looking at the others lips, neither realizing how much closer they had become until their lips were brushing the other.

Cat felt her face be tipped upward breaking the space between them, eyes closing as she felt the softness of his lips against hers. The way he pulled her closer as she slowly moved her hands up to wrap around the back of his neck, fingers lightly entwining in his soaked curls. The warmth spreading her chest was slower then she imagined it would be, but it was better this way seeing as the world disappeared. The rain falling on them from the weak awning was cool as it mixed with their parting lips. Cat was fully intoxicated by the time the song playing in the background came to its close. Breathless as the two finally separated, “All of the while I never knew. All of the while, all of the while it was you.” The two stood close in silence for half a minute.

“This was a date wasn’t it?” Cat whispered, eyes still closed, afraid that if she opened them the dream of a kiss would be over.

She felt Rafael smile as he kissed her once more gently, “You really think an opera house would really give me an extra ticket on accident, Conejito.”

#x: top chefs #like i seriously loved writing this so much!#i love them so much 😭

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lampsabout-moved · 5 years

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The Persona 3,4, and 5 Rewrite FAQ Masterpost

Everything under the cut! Including my plans, current fics, and spoilers for all three!

Persona 3 Rewrite, titled “Pull The Trigger” (https://archiveofourown.org/works/18834676/chapters/44696302) -Hamuko is the main character, and protagonist! She does all the major plot important things, cause it’s what she deserves. -Minato is not excluded though! He is still a part of S.E.E.S, and is a senior student. He takes the role of the Navigator. His Persona is Eurydice, to mirror Hamuko’s Orpheus! -Fuuka is no longer the team’s Navigator! I’ve reworked Lucia into a battle oriented Persona! She uses the nuclear skills from p5, and has a big fuck off sword. -Yukari/Hamuko/Aigis RIGHTS! -Minato/Akihiko RIGHTS! -More LGBT Rep! -Not as many social links, mainly cause i’m not a big fan of the P3 SL’s, keeping the party members and a few favorites. -Both Elizabeth and Theodore are included, with the added addition of Theodore staying out of the Attendant fight. They are represented by the Temperance social link. -Shinji still dies, sorry! -Ken isn’t used in combat as much, cause he’s 9. Same with Koromaru. -Operation Babehunt? Don’t know her! The gang meets Aigis when Hamuko spots her on the beach. -The Awnser’s time loop isn’t just hand waved??? It’s def more explicit with (SPOILERS), Metis’s whole deal of being Aigis’s Shadow? -Little stuff, like Pharos ending everything conversation with “Time Never Waits”, Hamuko using ultimate personas after finishing social links, Rio’s inclusion, Hidetoshi’s exclusion, Fuuka being trans, etc, etc Persona 4 Rewrite, titled “Part The Fog”! -First off, Kanji is mlm, and Naoto is a trans boy. Those are the stories that Atlus wrote, but refused to follow up on. Naoto’s arc is about accepting himself as trans, Kanji’s is about him recognizing himself as gay. -Kanji is now the Navigator! Featuring a redesigned Take-Mikauzachi! Rise takes his role as an active party member. -Soukanji rights!!! Yukichie rights!!! Naorise rights!!! -Yosuke, Yosuke is bi. His social link itself is about overcoming his internalized biphobia and homophobia. It’s not his shadow’s main focus, but it’s a part of it. -Rise’s shadow is no longer a pole-dancer! her shadow takes the form of a clown like Rise, putting on a LOVELY carnival (her dungeon) to get people to look at her for who she really is. She finally takes off her make-up in the boss fight, splitting into a bunch of different rise’s and begging her to tell her who “The Real Rise Is?”, kinda like P4TA. -Adachi is dead. Full stop. He does not come back for P4AU. -Speaking of spin-offs, Kanami Mashita! After the events of P4D, she gets a Persona of her own, Laetitae! -Biggggg social link changes. A disguised Kanami, Amnesiac Labrys, and Sho all apear as Social Links. Kanami being The Hanged Man, Labrys being Strength, and Sho as the Moon. Other SL’s changed accordingly. -Marie is still present, and is more integrated into the story. She is one half of Izanami, and willingly erased her memories after seperation. She herself carries Fog with her, and appears...off. She has a too-long shadow, her smile’s a little too wide, her eyes a little too yellow, rain seems to follow her. -Teddie is not a perv character. He’s close to the plot so I couldn’t write him out??? But he’s not as pervy as he is in canon, just a flirt. Also Teddie’s Bi, so jot that down. -I really liked the concept that Rise’s non “Risette” personality was harsh and aggressive? So she’s really rough around the edges when she first meets the IT, only warming up to them after her dungeon is completed. Think Severa from FE13. -Overall, a lot more actual truth finding, a lot less homophobia and transphobia. Persona 5 rewrite, titled “Invitation To Freedom”! -this is the one im most excited for HOLY S H IT -okay so, -redesigns for everyone’s phantom thief attire. especially the girls. Ann’s design is more like, a mix between her persona and Shego from Kim Possible? If that makes sense? Less dominatrix, more cutesy evil queen. (Makoto is more knight like, but is still spiky like a biker, Futaba resembles a video game merchant mixed with a tech super villain, and Haru is full on Musketeer.) -MORGANA ISN’T CREEPILY INTO ANN. NO MORE ANN BEING CONSTANTLY SEXUALIZED. G O D -speaking of Ann, her entire awakening scene is reworked. No more writhing for my girl. She still kicks the sword and kills Cognitive Ann tho. -Pegoryu rights!! Shihoann rights!! Okujima rights!! Kasutaba rights!! -Akechi joins during Kaneshiro’s palace, along with Makoto! Makoto gets herself in too deep thanks to her being over-protective, and Ren folds, saying that they need someone with detective work to help them, and as much as he hates it, Akechi’s probably been onto them for awhile now anyway. -Akechi is still the traitor. -There are not one, not two, but three players in Yaldaboath’s game! Whose’s the third player? Kasumi Yoshizawa! -Kasumi actually has her own team of Phantom Thieves! They interrupt The PT’s antics the palace, messing with them in Mementos, being rascals. her team includes Hifumi Togo, Sho Minazuki (the weird uncle who followed her into the metaverse), and an OC! (She’s currently based oN Hatsune Miku because I do what I want.) [This was inspired by a tumblr post I saw once,] -When I say that Kasumi messes with the PT, I mean like. They have this elaborate plan to steal Madarame’s treasure, but whoops! Kasumi has already swiped the thing and is a making a break for the exit! -Along with the standard chapters, smaller ones will be added to give the reader Kasumi’s perspective! She is also a wild card. -Goro lives and has a palace, sorry atlus!! -That one scene where Ryuji gets beat up for scaring everyone? Not fucking happening babey! -All those extra cells in the Velvet Room? there are only three! This is how Kasumi and Ren figure out each other are Royal (Codename still pending) and Joker. Miscellaneous

-I am currently in the process of adding more Personas and Demons to a growing roster so I can give each Arcana an even amount! Most info on the actual Personas, their skills, and the associated Social Links, can be found here: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1uHJv26RnGryvx_yhfzloPzIQUAB_cYOtwyzWGAxKdlQ/edit?usp=sharing EDIT: i completely forgot that most of the new personas im adding are from Bayonetta!

-also im indecisive so uhhh help me decide P4 protag and p5′s protag’s name!

https://www.strawpoll.me/18128738 (P4)

https://www.strawpoll.me/18128740 (P5)

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wolffyluna · 6 years

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Ask meme for writers: 04 (also, why?), 16, 23, 50?

04: Have you ever thrown a book across the room

Not literally, mostly because I don’t through things in general, but there are some books I put down in disgust. There are two categories of those: ones that got slam dunked into the library chute after 50 pages, and those that I had to struggle through because they were for school and too obscure to have cliffsnotes for.

In the first category, we have Twilight and Game of Thrones. 50 pages into Twilight, Edward gives this speech about how no one will believe Bella, and I was so offput by that scene the wall next to the couch had a Wolffy shaped hole from me fleeing the book.

With Game of Thrones, you could feel the invisible hand of plot looming all the time, which imo felt very clumsy. But the more important reason for me slam dunking that book was that I only liked 3 of the characters. Which wouldn’t be too bad, except a) The POV kept shifting to people I hated inhabiting the thoughts of

b) One of the characters I liked hadn’t had a POV section, and there was no evidence he was going to get one

and c) one of the characters I liked, I couldn’t read the POV chapters of, because she kept getting sexually threatened and I really didn’t want to read that.

The ones for school were Fetish by Tara Moss, and Orpheus Lost by Janet Turner Hospital.

My dislike of Fetish is pretty short to explain: have you ever had to analyse an erotic thriller? Like, the genre written above it’s barcode was ‘erotic thriller.’ And I had to write an essay on it. Which was difficult, because it only had themes in the technical sense. My teacher claimed one of the themes was power, which lol no. It was about sex. Even the parts that could have looked at the interplay of power and sex were so squeamish about the power aspect that it ended up being about sex. And sex could be an interesting theme, if it had more to it than “and then he did the sex/rape” and I was willing to write an essay about sex for English class. It also had some weird moral dissonance. For example, all the suspects/villains had a thing about nonconsesual bdsm. Which isn’t an unreasonable villainous trait, even if literal every villain had that. But, there’s a scene where our plucky protagonist is having sex with the plucky love interest, and she whips out surprised!handcuffs. And I was left going “O.O Isn’t what she doing only different by degree that what the villains are doing? what?”

Orpheus Lost is my bête noir. God I hate Orpheus lost. It’s so unclearly written that they were multiple scenes I thought were dreams, that turned out to have actually happened. And overall, the book was cowardly. The male main characters motivation was to meet his (terrorist) father... and the book skipped over the meeting, and just had a vague dream sequence about it after the fact. It’d be like if Tolkien skipper past throwing the Ring into Mt Doom, and replaced it with a fever dream as Frodo fought off the infection from having his finger bitten. Not satifisfying! And then there was a plot about using the legal system to get him out of not!Guatanamo... and it worked. (There was also some gunplay, as well.) It rang so, so, false. Because, yes, we the readers knew that he was innocent, but he literally left the country for the pure reason to meet a terrorist. If things were realistic, he wouldn’t be let out! He’d still being tortured! But Janet was too scared to write that.

16: How do you feel about movies based on books?

A lot of them are clumsy, and worse than the books themselves, but I’m annoyed when people act like the books are always better. I have seen adaptions (admittedly a TV series) that were better than the original books. It can be done.

23: What’s your favorite & least favorite part of making characters?

Favourite: Coming up with ideas for them

Least favourite: that bit when their not very developed, and so they need to be more developed, but it’s extra hard to develop them because you know so little about them.

50: If you could live in any fictional world, which would it be?

Hmm, tricky. Probably Star Trek? I wouldn’t want to live on a Federation ship (and definitely not Bajor), but it’s high tech, more or less post scarcity, and there’s probably plenty of calm places in the galaxy.

#diseonfire #asks

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