hello, i'm ace and this is my writing blog. i write fics in several fandoms and i'll take drabble / headcanon RQs if i'm able! check out my about for more info!
"You nearly seem vain," Aradia tests the statement out against the wind.
Gamzee laughs, more of a huff, doing skull paint up on his face, stark white against the black. He says nothing else and the silence stretches between them, blooms, like a drop of blood in water.
"Wouldn't dream'a vanity, Spookshow." he says after a moment, putting the finishing touches on his facepaint. Just a splash of indigo, rings around his eyes, "Reckon a brother could do up his girl as such?"
Aradia smiles, tucks her hair behind her ears, "Do me up, Bones."
That nickname is new, and so he laughs, turns to her in the dim light of their dingy motel room.
He takes great care with gentle hands to paint her up as he's done himself.
Those hands, that have caved in skulls; those hands, that have stolen and broken, are now so soft against her skin that she wonders, doubts, that he's ever been awful at all.
But, no, maybe not awful.
Certainly not to her; she, who has done the same. She, who has been just as cruel and impartial in the face of death itself.
She catches the look on his face. Just as soft as his touch.
"Kiss me," she says, and it comes out nearly breathless.
So he looks into her eyes, expression all somber, and he does. That somberness has been all too common, these days, and she so desperately misses that laugh of his.
He kisses her as he's bid.
"Spookshow," he murmurs, and his grin splits wide and she feels her heart soar, "Girl'a mine ain't gotta ask for all that. Not now."
Now, he says. And it snaps her back to earth.
"Let me pretend a little longer." she takes his hands into hers. She wants to pretend that the police aren't after them, wants to pretend they're not meant for death.
She kisses him sweetly, and pulls back, tears at the corners of her eyes, "Just for a bit."
"Ain't gotta ask twice." he kisses her himself, "I'm with you. No need for none like that."
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Genji's got this big smile on his face, all bright and shiny, and Jesse finds he can't really look away. He tries, though, because these aren't feelings he should be having.
"There's this arcade back home I used to go to all the time." he's going for the high score, but he can still tell stories all merry-like while Jesse watches, "Back in Hanamura. I haven't been able to find Galaga since, you know?"
"Is that all you played? Damn." Jesse remarks, "You're better at this than I could ever be."
"I just got a lot of practice," Genji goes, and clickclickclick come his finger on the fire button, "Used to play DDR and Tekken, though. I was the king."
Jesse's laugh at that is rich, "The king?"
"The king."
He purses his lips, and hums.
"Mm. I'm sure this isn't too exciting." he sighs, "Watching me play."
"Naw, I don't mind." Jesse reassures him, and his heart threatens to jump out of his chest once Genji affords him with that bright-and-shiny merry-like grin, "Really."
"All right. I'd still like to kick your ass at Tekken, though." Genji says, and keeps up at the game flawlessly, "If you're up for it."
"Yeah, but consider your ass already kicked." Jesse challenges.
"Oh? Tough talk for someone who didn't even know what Galaga is until twenty minutes ago."
"Listen." Jesse points a finger. "I'm not totally outta touch."
"Prove it," Genji crashes the ship onscreen on purpose, and so, his lives are all out. He turns to face Jesse fully, grin now turned challenging and right on him and, God, Jesse wants to keep him smiling for as long as he'll be had.
"Fine, Shimada, you're on."
They have an afternoon ahead of them at the mall, and should Genji have his way, they won't leave the arcade. Hanzo gets out of work in a couple hours, and the pair of them has nothing better to do until he gets out.
He might have a thing for his best friend's older brother, sure, but now he can't be assed to care.Ā
ahh i loved that so much!! it was definitely worth the wait. i really love how you write ace! i think a lot of writers in the op fandom tend to simplify his character into a sort of unreasonably angry and kind of stupid tsundere, or a ābroconā with no other defining characteristics, but you never do that! hes always nuanced, with a mix of self-sufficiency/experience and a sort of sweetness that i really like!! i find all of your character interactions really sweet ā¤ļøā¤ļøthank you so much
this means the world to me, anon ;_; iām so glad you liked it!! and iām really happy if i can give ace a bit more depth.
could you write some romantic marcoacethatch, maybe? i love how you write them and their dynamic!
Ace has always been counted on as a source of warmth on cold islands; wherever he is ā should it be winter ā the snow isnāt as heavy as it mightāve been before. Hell, it might not even be there at all.
Sunshine āĀ thatās what they call him, teasingly.
But when Marco says it, thereās some undercurrent of truth there. Ace knows Marco gets stressed above all others, given the declining health of their father and the young rookies seeking to capitalize on this. Those headhunters are more common now than ever.
āYouāre my sunshine,ā heāll say, hands at Aceās hips, and the smile on his face is in his eyes, too, a little crinkled at the corners. Genuine.
Thatch, of course, makes it out to be something akin to a joke.
āSunshiney angel boy, never did no wrong,ā heāll go.
The angel part makes Ace feel a pang, but itās fond; he nearly wants to thank Thatch for that sentiment, and heās not sure why. It feels like a lie, tumbling out of Thatchās mouth, but itās one he likes.
And now he finds himself between them both, on a bed much too spacious for how close they find themselves. Ace is in the middle, and theyāre just a bundle of sleepiness and quiet, woes forgotten.
Thatch gets a bit restless as he often seems to, fingers drawing lines on Aceās skin, above his navel.
āI like winter islands with you both.ā he muses,Ā āI think the cold used to put Marco to sleep, before you came around. Weād catch him in winter regions curled up in the weirdest places.ā
āHe probably wanted to migrate but couldnāt.ā Ace goes, and Thatch laughs.
āHey.ā
āAm I wrong?ā
āIt just used to put me to sleep, canāt really explain why.ā Marco sighs, moves closer still. His eyes are closed, and his voice does sound a little laden with sleep.
āWhat about now ā¦ ?ā Ace asks.
āIāll sleep when you do.ā he says simply.
āAce takes cat naps all the time, to be fair.ā Thatch chimes.
āI mean at night. I always sleep last, havenāt you noticed?ā
Now that Ace thinks about it, he personally does fall asleep first. Then Thatch presumably follows, and Marco thereafter. Huh.
āWhy is that?ā
Marco stays silent for a couple beats to Thatchās question. In the quiet, Thatch laces their fingers together over Aceās abdomen.
āā¦ Dunno that either, really.ā he murmurs, then continues, āI think I just like seeing that you guys are sound and sure, you know?ā
Ah, thatās right; Marco has been here longer than anyone else, and heās seen more nakama die than the other two have. Ace sees all this and finds it makes sense, finds he doesnāt need to say anything at all. He just kisses Marcoās forehead.
āI never want to leave this spot.ā Ace goes.
āWhat, this exact bed?ā
āNo, I mean ...ā Ace pauses, feels more heat well up in his center, his cheeks, out of embarrassment at the sudden emission.Ā ā... Figuratively. I donāt want to be with anyone else.ā
Itās sobering, brings a couple beats of quiet. Thatch hums, a happy noise, kisses at Aceās cheek and jaw.
āGood.Ā āCause weāre not going anywhere.ā
Ace closes his eyes, and he knows he means it, knows he never has to doubt again. Heāll be their sunshine for as long as theyāll have him.
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Joseph and Caesar, strangers, meet time and time again at a bus stop in a small town.
They pick up things about one another as the days wear on.
Chapter summary:
He sets out in his fatherās car in silence for a bit, then swimming in his thoughts, his vague, looming anxiety. Itās heavy over him, storm clouds thick with thunder and rain, though it doesnāt pour.
prompt: pro hero tamaki nervously freaking before a big operation and mirio comforting him and getting him psyched up....
Itās another raid; and now as then, Tamaki finds himself in a dark spot, the edges of despair crawling through and seizing his heart.
He thought he was done with this, that melty sort of feeling that all but brings him to his knees, convinced that everything is going to fall apart and fail and, maybe, now that heās a pro, thereās some basis in it. As a top rookie, Tamaki has seen more successes than failures, but those failures hit him hard.
The lives lost, the injuries, the mourning wounded, the shocked children.
He canāt breathe.
āHey, hey.ā Lemillion --- no, Mirio --- goes, and he turns and plants his hands on Tamakiās shoulders the moment he notices.Ā
Thereās not much of a difference between Mirioās hero voice and his civilian voice; just a tad more bravado in the former and more of a laugh in the latter, but Tamakiās practiced ears can hear the shift back to Mirio, to human, to touchable.
āYouāre fine, Suneater.ā he murmurs, dipping his head a little so as to capture Tamakiās gaze,Ā āTamaki.ā
He sounds not irritated, but rather patient and understanding --- itās okay, itās always okay.
āI know weāre gonna pull through this like we always do. Weāre not done, we have more lives to save and more peace to keep. Okay?ā
āBut what if---ā he begins, desperate.
āNo what if. Youāll run yourself into the ground onĀ āwhat ifā.ā
So Mirio gently bumps his visor on Tamakiās forehead, holding it there for a moment, one hand sliding up to cup his nape.
āMy Tamaki.ā this is the very tone that soothes him, a tone that no one else could hope to hear, private and between them only,Ā āI got your back and you got mine. No way weāre goinā down.ā
He finds himself steeled in that, a little more. Yeah. They have one another, chasing and guiding each other through heroism and all the dark and light it brings.Ā
Writing a novel when you imagine all you stories in film format is hard because thereās really no written equivalent ofĀ ālens flareā orĀ āslow motion montage backed by Gregorian choirā
You can get the same effect of a lens flare with close-detail descriptions, combined with breaks to new paragraphs.
Your slow-motion montage backed by a Gregorian choir can be done with a few technques that all involve repetition.
First is epizeuxis, the repeating of a word for emphasis.
Example:
Falling. Falling. Falling. There was nothing to keep Marie from plunging into the rolling river below. She could only hope for a miracle now, that she would come out alive somehow despite a twenty-foot drop into five-foot-deep water.
Then thereās anaphora, where you write a number of phrases with the same words at the beginning.
There were still mages out there living in terror of shining steel armor emblazoned with the Sword of Mercy.
There were still mages out there being forced by desperation into the clutches of demons.
There were mages out there being threatened with Tranquility as punishment for their disobedience, and the threats were being made good upon.
Mages who had attempted to flee, but knew nothing of the outside world and were forced to return to their prison out of need for sustenance and shelter.
Mages who only desired to find the families they were torn from.
Mages who only wanted to see the sun.
This kind of repetition effectively slows the pace of your writing and puts the focus on that small scene. Thatās where you get your slow pan. The same repetition also has a subtle musicality to it depending on the words you use. Thatās where you get the same vibe as you might get from a Gregorian choir.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
That thrilling feeling spreads a slight grin over his face, and so he bites his lip to stifle it. It takes a moment or two for him to wade through it all to get to the core, to get to the name of it. Itās a helpless sort of reckless, all dry and sardonic.
Why not be a hero, the feeling says; why not save the day, who cares if you get hurt.
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A good dad, thatās what he said. Joseph isnāt sure if his brother was just trying to appease him, to make him feel better, since sometimes he feels like he might not be a good dad. He cusses, gets frustrated, sometimes burns dinner and sometimes doesnāt know what to do with a child.
chapter summary:
āAh, yeah. Joseph, this is Kars, Wham, and Esidisi. Guys, this is Joseph; I met him at this Starbucks a couple days ago.ā Caesar points to each of them in turn. āWe donāt know one another much, but ā¦ā
āBut you want to, right?ā
chapter one can be read here and chapter two can be read here.
hey iām ace and this is my writing blog. i write in several fandoms including, but not limited to: one piece, my hero academia, jojoās bizarre adventure, overwatch, and kagerou project.
i take commissions! but mostly iām just trying to get my name out there, so feel free to check out my work and ask me questions or send in requests for drabbles and headcanons!
