Preparations are complete! We’re happy to officially announce the launch of VKC Shipping Month, the very first of its kind: a fandom event to celebrate all the incredibly awesome and diverse ships we’re blessed with and the fanon content dedicated to them. The event will be held in the month of September, so make sure to join us!
Though this month celebrates the romantic and sentimental bonds between the characters, they are by no means a requirement, and you may include platonic and/or familial relationships in your creations, so long as the involvement of two people (or more) is evident and/or exalted. All kinds of loving are dear to us.
For the whole month of September we’ll be reblogging everything tagged #vkcshippingmonth. The prompts will be revealed in a separate post, but sticking to them isn’t an obligation. It’s not necessary to participate with something every day: all the work you’ll decide to create will be appreciated and it’s completely up to your discretion.
The rules are simple:
-Every ship is allowed. Whether it’s popular, unpopular, rare or you invented it yourself, this is your chance to create and see content of it.
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-Remember to include the ship, the day and the prompt you’ve chosen in your post.
-We also ask you to tag nsfw and delicate content (details in FAQ) in case your work contains either/both.
-Have fun and show us your ships!
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hum I published this with one exact month of delay and am now posting this even later but ANYWAYS I got to write something for the vkcshippingmonth, so figured I’s post in here too. The name’s satura lanx and it’s a drabble dump for vkc month, because time is a lie so this fic is still ongoing
Fandom: Vatican Miracle Examiner
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Character(s)/Relationship(s): Josef Lycolas Bartridge/Hiraga Ryouta
Warnings: Underage, Canon Divergence: Josef is alive, First Kiss, Memory Loss
Chapter: 1/1
Words: 1165
For @vkcshippingmonth. Day 22: youth
Josef survives his cancer but spends most of his years in a coma. Once he finally awakens, he's a teenager in the body of an adult.
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Josef pulls back right when their lips are about to touch. He stays kneeled on the floor, left hand still on Ryouta’s thin tight. The teen takes that hand and starts caressing it. It’s bigger than his own, and it looks fairly strong but, at the touch, it’s incredibly soft; with a finger, Ryouta traces the veins he can see on its back, bluish lines under that incredibly pale skin.
“Josef,” he starts talking, eyes fixed on his own finger while it tickles the back of Josef’s hand, “I spent years in the hospital while other kids my age went to school, played sports and spent time with their friends. They lived their life while I—” he pauses, a frustrated sigh leaving his lips as he stops the movement of his finger and looks up, straight in Josef’s eyes.
“I couldn't even stand on my own two feet. I watched people live from afar and I watched people die right in front of my eyes. And I almost died too.” His voice trails off, and Josef has to look away while he wonders, for a brief moment, how would his life have been if Ryouta really did die before he met him, and his heart squirms painfully. He gingerly closes his hand around Ryouta’s as if he’s scared he’s an illusion, a ghost that could just disappear any moment. Ryouta is looking in the opposite direction, and he takes a deep breath before he goes on. “And if there’s one thing I learned from all of this, it’s that life is too short to put off living it.”
Josef feels like he understands, and he thinks that Ryouta probably had it worse than him — sure, Josef lost years upon years of his own life, but he didn’t have to watch them go by while he had no idea if he would ever get a chance at happiness or if he would die first.
“What happened to you,” says Ryouta after a short while, “it sounds like a nightmare to me. Waking up all of a sudden and you’re old, and half of your life is gone, consumed, burned away while you slept. And when you wake up,” Ryouta sighs, almost as if he feels the pain himself, “your head is a mess, and you can’t even remember things properly. But, nevertheless, you’re alive, here and now, and you’ve already missed so much. You, too, deserve to enjoy your life now.”
Josef understands what Ryouta means, but he still can’t shake that feeling that he shouldn’t, that it’s wrong for him to have such intense feelings for that delicate but stubborn teenager, that it’s one more confirmation that everyone would be better off without him.
“I’m-” he stutters, and he almost just confesses that he’s in love with Ryouta — he doesn’t know what stops him, but he’s thankful he could get a grip before it was too late, before he made the horrible mistake to start something that could only end up with him hurting Ryouta, and with him Hiraga, and Roberto, the only other two people he has in his life.
“Ryouta,” Josef tries again, “I’m a mess and you deserve someone that can take care of you, not a forgetful old man. You should be with kids your age and-”
“Josef.” Ryouta doesn’t even let him finish and even Josef can tell by the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice that he’s angry — frustrated at the fact that no matter how much he struggles to explain how he’s sure and convinced about how he feels, everyone just dismisses him because he’s young. He’s tired of being too young to make decisions for himself but old enough to face the threat of death, to know how it feels to be aware that you might not have much time left but too young to decide just what to do with that time.
“I have a very ugly illness,” he explains — it’s unnecessary, but he wants to make a point. “It’s getting better now, but that could change. Even if they say that it probably won’t, the possibility exists.” He takes a moment, waits for what he has said to sink in, and Josef can’t look away because the way his stomach writhes in pain at the idea of Ryouta dying makes him feel nauseous. “And I don’t want to have regrets when I die.”
As he finishes talking, Ryouta looks at Josef with those big, dark eyes of his, and Josef is not sure he can ever say no to him; for a moment there, he’s sure Ryouta has him wrapped around his finger, that he just has to tell him how to dance, and Josef will dance, that he would do literally anything for him. And it’s different from what he feels — or felt? — for Roberto, it doesn’t delicately flow into his heart, it doesn’t feel comforting and soft: it feels overwhelming, it knocks down and destroys everything in its path, it’s passionate and it burns him from the inside.
“Ryouta…” he stutters, still kneeled in front of him, and when Ryouta grabs the collar of his shirt and pulls him close, he knows — somewhere inside him — that he just has to stand up and step away, he knows it’s that easy, but his mind feels hazy and he’s tired to think and to feel and he doesn’t have the strength to process everything anymore.
He just wants to forget himself, and so he lets Ryouta pull him in and he lets their lips touch, and he closes his eyes and loses himself in the contact — just a delicate brushing of lips — and he feels at peace. Ryouta has a sweet scent and his taste is similar to something he can’t quite place, and that feeling bugs him — it leaves him unsatisfied when Ryouta breaks the kiss.
“Does it feel familiar?” asks the boy, and there’s urgency in his voice and his gaze, but Josef doesn’t seem to pick up on that: he just stands there for long, interminable moments, and he touches his own lips, confusion all over his face. Then, finally, his eyes widen and the trembling fingers of his right hand stop in mid-air between their faces, and he blushes.
“I knew you didn’t forget,” murmurs Ryouta, and he’s almost in tears when he pulls Josef in for another kiss — a peck on the lips that Josef readily returns, mind blank but in a good way this time.
“I love you,” whispers Ryouta on his lips.
“I love you,” he repeats when they part, their eyes staring into each other. “Please, don’t forget it.”
As Josef’s heart threatens to explode in his chest, he desperately tries to imprint the memories of those last moments into his mind, he clings to them with everything he’s got, and if he’d do anything for Ryouta then he has to be able to do something as simple as that. He has to.
