HONGICE WEEK Day 5 (7) - Our Secret Place || Playing With The Other's Hair || Falling Asleep On The Other's Lap
(apology at the end but @hongiceweek ty sm for accepting late submissions <333)
disclaimer!!: this one-shot is historical (idk how it got there either ToT), specifically, it occurs in 1971 during the Vietnam War and I just wanted to put a disclaimer here saying that I don't mean to misrepresent the war-- I really tried my best, but I apologize if I did. But if I did, please tell me and how I should fix it with constructive crit!
one more thing (promise!) bc china, hk, and macau are all brothers here I js decided to make them all come from the same area, and have their common language be mandarin chinese bc making it so that they all came from different parts of china is too complicated ToT same for the nordics, den nor and ice js come from some southern part of norway I’m assuming
ok lets go--
The light, hesitating raindrops that fall on Emil’s back tell him it’s time to speed up, and he does; the creaks of an old and broken down Schwinn Sting-Ray grow louder as he turns the corner past the post office Joey’s father owns.
Emil chooses to curse his manager for his bad luck, who’d decided to stay late just to “make sure his best employee was keeping up the good work.” It didn’t take a genius to know that he suspected Emil was stealing coins from the laundry machines— not with that fake smile. And so, he’d been forced to work an extra hour.
Oh— almost missed a left. If his turn had been any sharper, he surely would’ve fallen.
Emil notes down the stores he comes across, and finds his furrowed brows loosening slightly as he realizes he’s only a minute or two away from his destination. Eventually, he parks the bike in a deserted alley and lifts his battered school bag off the metal handle of the bike— the action a bit difficult with the red welts on his knuckles— and walks inside a small, faded blue diner.
sike actually to read the rest of this u have to go to ao3 hahahhaha im so evil ik
ok ok but I made edits and now this vers of the fic is so cringe it makes me wanna barf my eyeballs out so i deleted it here 😭😭😭 its weird bc i didn’t even make that many edits?
see kids this is why we always make edits before turning in the final draft
anyways here’s the rest of the fic
hope u enjoy!!!
———
ok I wanted to apologize for the late submission ToT I really tried to get this in on time but I guess that's hard when ur a master procrastinator 🙄🙄/j
but actually thanks so much for hosting this! its the first ship week i've been able to participate in and I truly enjoyed writing this fic <3333
i'll try to participate in day sevens actual prompt too lol
Hey there! If you don’t mind, I wanted to ask you about your fics? I once jumped into this whole rabbit hole of spamano fics and one of the fic reccomendators mentioned the fics you have posted in ao3 like “the lemon tree” and “dance with me” (read both and loved them!! <3333). Except they put both under the name “happymood” instead of ur user, and so I wanted to ask to know more about that if possible. You don’t have to answer tho, thanks for reading this!
-topo
Hello there!
That was I! A long time ago, I used to post in ff.net under the name Happymood. I used to be a huge Spamano fan (lost interest in it pretty recently), and the fics you found are one of the first ones I've written, along with "Singles", which was one of my most popular stories.
At some point, however, I got sooo tired with the raging ship wars and hate reviews about this ship or that, that I ended up deleting everything and just disappeared from the fandom. I saved some fics for my own enjoyment, while the rest were completely wiped out from history.
When I got back into writing, I decided to post again, but I chose a different name, which is starsmadeinheaven, since, for me, the name Happymood didn’t bring joy anymore. Ao3 became my haven. I decided to edit and repost some of my old fics over there, the ones I had saved long ago, and that's why you can find them in there, too.
I’m glad you were still able to get back into writing for the fandom! Your fics are so good, and a lot of the people who recommended you fics always had praise for you. I hope you continue to find joy in writing on ao3 <3333
so i went to charleston recently and got the chance to check out Fort Sumter
a bit of history behind Fort Sumter: it’s basically where the first shot of the American Civil War happened, and was pretty much a constant battle site
on that note go read our fic based on the american civil war starring our boy Alfred 😝
The Guide to Dealing with Post-Civil War Disorder (20349 words) by kaeruandtopo [AO3]
I've been thinking a lot about hws Sealand. I don't usually concern myself with the micro-nations, but I think his identity as an old ww2 sea fort and ultimately nothing more makes him a really beautifully tragic character.
A boy bred and born for war, made to die but now a self-proclaimed nation. He barely has a population, he's still ruled by the laws and legislation of Arthur, there's no future or growth for him.
So he'll stay as a boy. A violent boy: he spends his days watching war films, playing shooter games; sitting and waiting, no interest beyond his original purpose. He cares not for music or literature, a bit of a barbarian with his bare feet, uncut hair, black fingernails.
Rebellious in his eternal youthfulness, he's dirty and brutal and apathetic. But not with Arthur, oh no never to Arthur. An abandoned English military fort, as much of Arthur as he is himself, he remains completely obedient. They play chess, needlework together, he pulls the weeds Arthur points out to him.
An image of domestic bliss and paternalism. Except the boy never ages, never concerns himself with much beyond shooting badgers and chasing cats. And Arthur, as neglectful as ever, doesn't mind the messy shadow living in his house - the trail of muddy footprints, the dead animals in the garden, the occasional mug left out.
The one young nation who stays with him, who doesn't resist or retaliate - and its him. its him a thousand years ago, lonely and barbaric thing he was. it must be torture for him, for his ex-colonies, to watch the boy go so neglected and stay so young.
snowghoul
annaxmalina
discoholicmusic
turnnoffyourmind
origamiaround
