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zlobonessa · 1 month ago

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hi-i-wrote-a-thing-for-a-fanweek. day one — memories (although it also fits heroes from day 3 and alternative universe from day 6 so we can pretend I'm not extra late). anyway it's reincarnation/modern au emijulisuba where julius tries archeology and finds it very thoughts-inducing. it's also on ao3 but not translated. enjoy.

Julius doesn't particularly expect his application to be approved: an email titled "Re: Volunteers for excavations" finds him in the process of drafting a loose idea of his diploma topic for the next academic year, with a third glass of white-chocolate-and-lavender iced coffee and almost zero thoughts related to archaeology. That prevents him neither from nearly flooding the laptop with lavender-white liquid while making an incomprehensible sound in the middle of a cafe nor from packing up his things that exact day and buying a ticket to a luxury train compartment to Pristella.

When the raging greenery of the Red Sun peak sweeps past the window, he is overtaken by — the smell of clothes fresh out of the laundry and hand cream for sensitive skin, the hum of students and the clatter of thousands of keyboard keys, an oversugared pastry from the cafeteria, columns of calculations in front of his eyes, a discussion of master's courses — the question is: what is he even doing?

Objectively speaking, this is a good question.

Objectively speaking, this is a very good question, and Julius pushes it as deep as possible into the depths of his brain, drowns it out with the sound of wheels hitting the rails, crushes it with the weight of bags on his back, and suffocates it with the smells of dust and cigarettes from Priestella central station. By the time he frowns and tries to force his mind to merge the two-dimensional directions of the navigator in the phone with the three-dimensional chaos of the city, the question goes almost quiet.

Almost.

It must be said, the navigator is of little use. Before even boarding the train, Julius firmly rejected the idea of calling a taxi to the train station: how could you do excavations in a city that you refuse to see? He had to admit that by the eighth missed turn this thought lost some of its freshness.

(Trying to spot a noticeable supermarket from the map, he almost slams into a pillar covered with ads and vulgar stickers, and, dodging this unpleasant fate, miraculously avoids a collision with a scooter rushing at full speed — and for some reason, disappointment wakes up in his chest with unexpected force and for no particular reason. It even leaves him standing in disbelief for a few seconds: the depth of it is so strange and painful, like a cut wound.)

But, as they say, all's well that ends well.

"As they say, all's well that ends well," laughs Anastasia, the head of the excavations and a leading archaeologist, Julius searched the internet for her name: her field of study is Alec Hoshin, and the period of the foundation of Kararagi. "Ya haven't fallen into the canals, have ya? There were cases, I had to send them home. The water there isn't especially clean, wouldn't advise taking a sip."

Julius winces involuntarily, trying to overcome the wave of disgust. Anastasia studies him closely.

"How did ya end up here even?" she asks, kind of jokingly, casually, to keep up the conversation, but the depth of her gaze is a tell: she is serious. This is a type of question the answer to which determines the future — the type of question that, as his uncle explained, should be met with the best answer of all you have.

Julius replies:

"I don't know. "

The sunlight pours onto a roped-off piece of ground where they form a crowded circle — more like a square, sure, but that's not what matters. Julius's knees go weak, and he suddenly feels like a little rascal again, not taught to respect his elders. How can they stand over how — many centuries of history?

"It's nice to see everyone so captivated — and without a single swing of the shovel, wow," Anastasia laughs, and her voice rings with pride. "At this very place, four hundred and twenty years ago, one of the fights that decided the course of the battle for Priestella happened. Great timing, right? Everyone studied the battle for the Priestella at school, I hope, yea, I know, such a busy historical period, so many names, so many dates, but on the anniversary occasion, it doesn't hurt to refresh your memory. By the way, everyone remembers the briefing, I hope?"

The job — predictably enough — turns out to be dirty. There is something fascinating even about how quickly Julius gets covered in mud: he expected the gloves to lose their white in a matter of minutes, but the knees and elbows come as a surprise. Under the afternoon sun, a thick and sticky layer of sweat appears on his face, which, as Julius quickly realizes, should not be wiped with a dirty sleeve (and the decision not to cut the hair on his forehead begins to seem somewhat questionable), several times he has to push out the grains of sand gotten into his mouth with his tongue, his palm takes the shape of the handle of a trowel, and a sharp pebble gets into his shoe.

It's definitely not what he's used to—but when he looks at himself, covered in earth from head to toe, somewhere in his memory a thread stretches.

Maybe... no.

Father: in the middle of a garden black with moisture, planting seedlings in dirty old clothes and suddenly noticing Julius on the porch — he straightens up, waves at him, and smiles broadly.

That's what this memory is about.

"So this is what happens to children who were not allowed to play in the sandbox," a familiar voice is heard from the side when Julius takes a short break to get out of the excavation and do shoulder exercises. "I almost didn't believe my eyes. Would never have thought that you were capable of getting your hands dirty — like, on a physical level, I thought you would howl and turn into dust, you know, like a low-level monster from..."

"Subaru! It's very, veeery mean to say that!"

"That is, you agree with the content, but you are not satisfied with the presentation? Ha! Heard that, huh?

Sighing, Julius turns around.

"Subaru," glances from a t-shirt with a stupid print to a ribbon with flowers woven into a braid, "Emilia, what an unexpected meeting. Glad to see you."

Is he glad? He is not entirely honest, and this is gnawing at him: it is unfair to treat good friends like this, especially from the university where he will return in the Yellow-Sun anyway, but an obscure annoyance rises in his chest. As if they had done something wrong — as if they had...

Although — he does has the right reason for that.

"But what are you doing here?"

"Hey, hey, are you pointing fingers?!"

"We are here on vacation! T-together, that is. "

"E-emilia-tan!"

Julius allows himself a restrained — and maybe slightly teasing — smile.

"Is that so? Have a good time. But I meant," having lost the internal struggle, he stoops to the Subaru level and points his finger at where they are all standing, "right here. Outsiders are not allowed to enter the excavation area."

Subaru blushes rapidly and amusingly:

"Eh! .. is that so... oh."

"Oh," Julius nods, with the most serious face possible.

"Truly — oh!" Emilia gasps, also blushing. "Julius, we are so sorry!.. Subaru, you said we were positively definitely going the right way this time!"

"We were! — Subaru retorts, but the fire is lost. — Up until some point."

"I'm sorry again, we're already leaving, I hope we didn't break anything important!" Emilia shouts as she walks, pulling Subaru by the sleeve with the tenacity of a bulldozer: it's amusing to observe, for fairness' sake. Just before disappearing behind the corner, she turns for a second:

"Just in case, we will be glad to meet and have a chat sometime!"

And so she leaves.

The work is completed late in the evening, and the way to the three-and-a-half-star hotel is illuminated by the stars studying in the grayishly blue sky — and streetlights, of course. Fortunately, there are no channels lost in the dark on the way, but a hospital with a flickering sign comes across — which, he supposes, is rather convenient, but his insides get turned out by the urge to write to Joshua, which is ridiculous: it will ruin his sleeping schedule, and he was also so upset that he couldn't go with Julius, and so sincerely wished him to have a good time, and write to him now... Julius suppresses this urge firmly and even walks a few meters further with something like enthusiasm.

Each step, however, turns out to be harder than the past, his back and arms ache, the taste of dirt pervades his mouth, fatigue fills his bones with lead-like heaviness, and he can only hope for...

Well, it sure was a stupid hope.

A few days ago — when Julius, having found the hotel closest to the excavation site, patiently hung on the phone for twenty minutes, waiting for someone who could book him a room because he abandoned trying to figure out the interface of their sprawling website half an hour later — he had something like a romantic idea about a hidden underappreciated charm of small things in small hotels that the general public is picky about. Not that Julius had stayed in them previously: his uncle and aunt were meticulous about vacation planning and did not skimp on money, but the impeccable and faceless sterility of the five-star hotels they chose always repelled him. There had to be some kind of homeyness, he supposed. Some kind of soul, no matter how sentimental it sounds.

The lobby of the hotel he chose smells sickeningly of varnish, at the reception he is warned that there will be no hot water for the next three days, and the cold water in the shower barely hanging on the wall turns out to be rusty, dark spots appear on the ceiling on old wallpaper, and without glasses it is impossible to make out if it is mold, the wind is blowing from under the window frame, and this bed has probably the most uncomfortable mattress that Julius has ever lain on, and it doesn't help his back at all.

People tend to significantly embellish their fantasies about a way of life that they have never led, his uncle once said a long time ago. He didn't tell Julius this, Julius shouldn't have heard it at all, and it turned out otherwise almost by accident, and strictly speaking, he wasn't talking about his father, but Julius knew, knew that he meant his father, and even now this memory could ignite an unbearable heat in his chest and eyes.

But was his uncle wrong?

Julius has never expressed a desire to get a degree in history. He himself was aware of the absurdity of this idea: it was just a stupid childhood dream, pure fiction, sometimes floating through his subconscious when he allowed himself to entertain thoughts about some completely different reality with completely different circumstances. Here and now, someone had to inherit the family business, and Joshua would not be able to bear it, scientists are paid pennies, the work is thankless, and does he truly want to waste his talents digging in the ground?

Does he want to?

What is he even doing?

"Now you can't dodge the question," mumbles Subaru through a full mouth: Julius winces, and he makes a face in response, but swallows with effort and noise, allowing all patrons to watch a huge lump of food moving down his throat. "Spill the tea, why are you here, are you lost or something?"

The cafe on the corner where they squeezed in is small, but thankfully they managed to successfully occupy the seats. A cozy place that successfully combines the influence of Kararagi and Lugunika, with garlands, a chalkboard for customers — Subaru has already managed to write "E + S = ♡" there — an artificial tree in the middle of the room and paper lamps. The perfect cafe for the perfect "vibes" in photos for social media. Julius had spent many hours in places like these, typing his essays.

But now he can't get rid of the bitter taste in his mouth - he can't shake the thought: what was here a few centuries ago?

(He can’t help but feel a strange sense of déjà vu when he closes his eyes: as if he had already sat here once, meeting Emilia and Subaru, and the air between them was still filled with something unspoken.)

Pretending to be unperturbed, however, he shrugs:

"I've always wanted to participate in excavations."

"Boring answer," Subaru snaps. "Come up with something better."

Carefully sipping his coffee—caramel cream latte—Julius raises his eyebrows at him:

"What, lie?"

Subaru rolls his eyes:

"Who in their right mind will go to study management when they have at least some hobby more interesting than cramming the most effective formulas for sorting spreadsheets?"

"Someone has to sort the spreadsheets, Subaru," Emilia remarks. The barista drew a kitten on the foam of her coffee: she thoughtfully twirls a straw in her hands, trying to figure out a way to drink without spoiling the drawing. "And Julius is doing a great job at it."

It is easy for Julius to imagine his future life: many, many spreadsheets filled with numbers.

"Thank you, Emilia," he says tersely. Trying to deflect the conversation from himself, he strikes back: "And why did you decide to go to Priestella?"

Subaru is blushing again. The color floods on his face in a single wave. The skin from the forehead to the neck is all the same shade, so thick that it feels like an invitation to dip a brush into a soft cheek and paint a sunset landscape.

"Well, I mean, why not here? The city is beautiful, the weather is warm, and there's water here... And the atmosphere is like, you know!... Such... Very... yeah.

Julius gives him a knowing grin. Subaru hunched his shoulders, sending him a vicious look from under his brows.

"Subaru!" Emilia snorts into her glass of coffee — a blush rises on her cheeks and spreads gently to the tips of her ears — and the drawing distorts. She looks at it upset. "Well, there you go. "

Sadness, however, does not remain on her face for long: sighing, she takes a sip of coffee and, having tasted it, squints with satisfaction.

"But the city is reaaally very, very beautiful," she agrees, and her words reach Julius with a slight delay. "So... a little magical, I don’t even know how to explain it. You know, you come here for the first time, and it feels like... like you’ve finally returned. We left the station, on the other side, remember, where the old buildings and the arch are, and I looked at them and I... it probably sounds absurd, but it felt like I recognized them, although I’ve never even been here in my life! As if they were waiting for me. Dreamlike, right? ...Do you know what I mean?

Julius doesn't immediately find the strength to nod and smile casually.

"Generally speaking, all the records we have about the battle for Priestella are incomplete and contradictory," says Anastasia, sitting right on the ground with a kind of simplicity that shows a habit. The excavation opens right at her knees, bathed in the evening dawn, and sometimes her gaze slips from the volunteers nearby to the ground that looks like a sliced layer cake. "Most sources of that time explain everything around them as witchcraft and magic, and it is extremely difficult to make out what actually happened, and in our case, we are talking about a clash of religious fanatics with the knights of Lugunica — who, as I hope everyone remembers, were credited with powers of divine origin... "

"The Last of the Saints," Julius blurts out. Disapproving stares thrust into him, and a heat washes over his cheeks. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to interrupt, I... have read about him, and... don't pay attention, please continue. "

But Anastasia doesn't seem upset at all — on the contrary, she snorts and nods gravely:

"What an educated young man, watch and learn! Yea, that's right. In those days, by the way, he was simply called the "The Sword Saint" — from what we know, it should be assumed that the title was inherited until it ceased to exist, and as to why — history, as they say, is silent. By the way, there is an interestin' moment connected with the battle for Pristella: some sources mention the presence of two Saints of the Sword in the city at once, the Last and his predecessor — while other sources claim that they died many years before! That's right, history is always a bit about being detectives. If ya are attracted ta a sense of mystery, then you have come to the right place, I will tell ya for sure."

"So what's the answer?" one of the volunteers, blonde and with a detached face, speaks up. Her name is Silver or something like that, Julius can't remember exactly. "Was that predecessor there or not?"

Anastasia laughs:

"And for a sense of the answer, unfortunately, your path lies in the exact sciences! Many scientists fought about that one, and all to no avail. And, mind ya, some," Anastasia leans forward, and a conspiratorial gleam appears in her eyes, "some scientists believe that the dynasty of Sword Saints never existed at all!"

“How is that possible?” Julius blurts out – again condemning glances, but he almost doesn’t care: for some reason, his chest hurts as if it was pierced by a rusty sword.

"It is what it is," Anastasia shrugs, clearly pleased with the effect. — "Primary sources are inconsistent, there's a complete lack of records after the beginning of the Golden Revolution, which, I remind you, was also a revolution in a cultural sense, the power of the holders of the status is clearly exaggerated many times and attributed to magical powers: the Last of the Saints, they say, could throw a man to the sun with his bare hands, which, you must admit, is incomprehensible! Many historians hold the position that the Sword Saints were a legend and served in fact as a collective image of outstanding warriors of that time. Who knows, here we are digging up the site of one of the fights of the Last of the Saints, and it can have nothing significant there at all — this happens!"

And through his tight trousers, Julius feels acutely every pebble digging into his legs. He wants to object — he wants to argue — he wants to refute, but the knowledge gap is opened up to him by an archaeological dig: he is not a scientist, not a historian, he is an amateur, a student who receives a bachelor's degree in management next Red Sun, but for some reason is tormented by his own foolishness and goes to excavations.

The contradiction in the story should be like an incorrectly written formula, corrected with a few clicks. Simple movements that reduce everything to flawlessly grounded mathematics.

"Not for the first time even: the discrepancies in the number of participants in this battle are especially significant," Anastasia continues mercilessly. "The Eucliuses, for example: one of the famous historical chronicles, written after the fact, claims that two descendants of the then famous knightly family of the Eucliuses participated in the battle, who in fact had no heirs at all! A very controversial chronicle, in fact: by all indirect signs, it is authentic, but at the same time the lexicon used in it for its time period is completely uncharacteristic — it is still a very big subject of debate. "The truest story about the adventures of the humble support of the great heroine Emilia", you can search it in your free time, it's a very funny read."

(Julius has read it. He has read it.)

It must be stupid: at the age of twenty-two, to believe in fairy tales.

Julius doesn't.

Just sometimes — just sometimes — he wanted so badly that it almost felt like a white cloak was fluttering on his shoulders, a sword was weighing down his hip, and magic, bright in taste and smelling of past rain, trembled in the air with the movement of his hand.

"Hey," Subaru's fingers snap in front of his face, "how's the weather at the cloud your head's now in?"

Julius almost stumbles over the asphalt with the toe of his boot. He freezes.

"Hm. I'm sorry, I was just thinking."

"You almost fell down the steps, you idiot," Subaru hisses. "Think less, that's not what your face is so pretty for."

Blinking, Julius realizes that Subaru is right: the stairs start right in front of him, the steps leading to the canal embankment.

"Julius has a very multitasking head, Subaru, it's not nice to say such nasty things," Emilia pokes Subaru's cheekbone with a finger, looking instructively: he blushes and sulks. Then she looks at Julius with a worried look: "But you really should be careful. You can get so perilously hurt like that!

"Who in the twenty-first century says "perilously"...

"People who read actual books, not just teen comics, I think," Julius can't help himself, and this time Emilia's stern gaze turns out to be directed at him:

"And you too don't tease, Subaru reads books! Sometimes."

"Sometimes?! What do you mean "sometimes", do I need to read a book a day?! Emilia-tan, only posers who skip every other word read books at that pace, and in class, they just spit on the ceiling, don't be fooled by this show-off!.."

Julius raises his hands in defeat:

"Okay, well, I'm sorry. I wasn't going to question your intellectual abilities, Subaru. Strictly speaking, with my schedule... I'm afraid I read books only sometimes too."

"Exactly," Subaru snorts, folding his arms over his chest, but his face looks satisfied. He looks at Julius with an inquisitive look: "Well, what were you thinking about, thinker?"

Julius shrugs helplessly. They continue their walk: a boat sweeps past them along the canal, and one of the passengers throws the can overboard.

"Well, just how can they be so completely unashamed?" Emilia shakes her head ruefully; she is enrolled in the university's environmental community, Julius recalls.

They’re complete pigs,” Subaru agrees; Julius once caught him in the cafeteria picking up a glass and wrappers that had fallen past the trash can from someone’s tray during the previous break.

"I don't really know what I'm even doing," Julius shares.

"Huh."

"What do you mean?"

Belatedly, Julius realizes what he has said. They say that in the old days, the knights cut out their tongues when they realized that outrageous nonsense had come out of their mouths — it would be worth reviving this tradition, probably.

"Anyway, haha, never mind, don't worry about it, just some nonsense on my mind," he quickly tries to reduce the damage. It doesn't work - he can see it in their eyes that it doesn't work.

"Julius, what kind of nonsense can you have in your head?" With her eyebrows drawn together and her lips pursed, Emilia looks at him with pleading pity. "And if there is nonsense, then there is especially no need to keep it there since it needs to be released. What happened?"

"There are limits to perfection, huh?" Subaru tsks and twitches the corner of his mouth, then winces, looking at him with serious seriousness. "Come on, tell us."

"Nothing special, really, I'm sorry to bother you... " Julius sighs. "I study management. Instead of writing a draft diploma, I'm here in Priestella, digging in the ground. This is illogical. You're right. That's all."

"You like history," Emilia points out. "In my first year, you explained to me the entire genealogy of Astrea with an exact chronology."

"Eh?! And where I was at the time?"

"You hadn't transferred to us yet."

"Approximately the exact chronology, Emilia. I like history, but..." his lips crease involuntarily and tightly, "on an unprofessional level. There will be no career from this. This is childish at this point. "

"God, you sound like an old man. It's going to happen to me at twenty-two, too, huh?"

"Subaru!"

—Subaru," Julius finds the strength to just shake his head and doesn't even try too hard to hide his smile. "I... like history for... selfish reasons, I guess. Astrea... All those people... they went down in history for doing something important. Significant. Noticeable. No one remembers people for using the most optimal way to sort spreadsheets."

"Wow, you sure know how to cling to words."

"Learning from the best."

"So the point is that you want to go down in history, Julius?" Emilia looks into his face with her usual caring expression, and embarrassment fires up in his cheeks:

"Hmm," he pulls on the strands on his forehead, hoping to draw attention away from the skin tone, "with the way you said it, I look, perhaps, somewhat vain..."

"Well, you can't hide a cat in the bag... " Subaru parodies his gesture by twirling the short hair sticking out of his own hairstyle around his finger. "Hey, hey, Emilia, these are your words!"

"No, no, it's all right," Julius prevents Emilia's educational lesson that hangs in the air. "I really was quite arrogant as a child. I always dreamed of world fame... I don’t envy my family back then, to be honest. No, I didn’t want to become a great actor, or a great singer, or a great blogger, Subaru, thank you for your opinion,” this time he gets ahead of Subaru’s facial expression. “I wanted to be a great scientist — so that people like you could draw a mustache on my photo in textbooks, I guess.”

"Blatant slander! I have never been involved in spoiling public property in my life, I wasn't raised like that. "

"I'll try to believe it. But no, now I think I'm mature enough to realize that I'm not cut out for fame. I'm not that outstanding. "

"Julius!" Emilia gasps. "Don't say that, you're very, very talented, and smart, and handsome..."

I appreciate the support, but...” Julius purses his lips, “well, that’s the objective truth.”

Subaru stares at him for a long time in disbelief.

“I’d like to give you a good punch,” he drawls dreamily. “Why is it that you all have such bad self-esteem, huh? No matter who you poke, everyone thinks they were admitted to the university by mistake, but in reality, they belong under the fence. A-grade students! That’s so stupid.”

Now Emilia is looking at Subaru intently.

"The pot calling the kettle black, Subaru."

"Eh?! Eh, eh, don't drag me into this! I'm just, well, a foreign student!!"

Palms ache. Julius does not immediately realize the cause: his own nails dig into the skin.

"Have you ever thought about what will happen after death?"

"Julius, are you all right? If anything, I remember the suicide hotline number, just ask!"

"Well, I don't think a bore like you will go to hell if that's what you're talking about."

"No, I mean... in, say, a year. Five years. Decades. Centuries. Self-absorbed, I know, but I'm thinking about it more and more often — what will remain after me? What the fact that I lived, that I got this diploma, and finally went to these damned excavations can even change? Will anyone — anything — remember me at all?"

He stops — no, not even like that. Some unknown force is pulling him to stop, only there are no unknown forces in this world, and it must be all about Julius's subconscious, his treacherous subconscious, pulling him to search for something that does not exist.

The control tower stands in the middle of kiosks, cafes, bicycle parking, and crowds of tourists. Julius had read about them on the internet, in a scant article that omitted many details: an ancient mechanism once built to control the water level. Over time, it was replaced with modern technologies, and the towers were planned to be demolished — but after the protests were left as a monument.

It would be better if they were demolished, Julius thinks and is horrified by his own thoughts, but he cannot get rid of them. In the midst of the triumph of the twenty-first century, the building looks ugly. Out of place.

"Sometimes I like to imagine that I was born at the wrong time. Just like... this city, for example. He doesn't belong to modernity, have you noticed? It was built as an ambush for monsters — no one expected it to stand until the moment when we call them fairy tales." A queasy feeling spreads through the body. As if his skin was covered with saliva, sticky and viscous, smelling disgusting, and not even washing off with tar soap — even if you rip it off, because there is no more point in it. "I understand, though, that it is ambition that speaks in me. In the past, I would probably have disappeared from people's memory just as easily."

He imagines it clearly: the white cloak falling into a canal and dissolving in the water. Like in that video with the raccoon and cotton candy that Subaru once insistently showed him.

...Yes, Subaru really has a bad effect on his thought processes.

The culprit of the ridiculous associations examines his face with extreme skepticism.

"You're such an idiot. Like you can be forgotten so easily!" His index finger points accusingly at Julius's shoulder. "I can't forget your pretentious face even in my sleep, does that seem forgettable?!"

"Subaru-Subaru... That's just his way of comforting, don't get mad," Emilia hurriedly explains. "But you know, when everyone around knows your name, it's not always good. You don't even know what they're saying about you until it's too late, and then..." She bites her lip and shakes her head. "Your name will remain in history, but you will not recognize yourself in it. Isn't it better to do good just like that, without expecting fame in return? After all, the world gets a little better with every good deed — what do you need a personal signature for every change?"

Julius feels unbearably ashamed.

"I don't need it, of course. I'm just trying to say... Ordinary acts of kindness are not so significant... Hm, no, absolutely not, it sounded terrible, forget it, please. I probably want to say... after all, everyone can do them."

Emilia's lips form a bitter smile.

"But not everyone does."

Standing on tiptoes, she puts her hands on his shoulders—carefully, as if Julius is made of the most fragile glass—and pulls him into her arms.

A gurgle comes from Subaru's throat. Julius is afraid that now he will be pushed into the canal, but instead — the sounds do not stop — he is gently patted on the back.

"Don't try to save the world all at once, guys," Emilia says softly into his shirt.

Subaru lets out a laugh, nervous and inexplicable to Julius. He, however, wants to repeat it.

A cooing, pitiful sound begins in Emilia's chest. Her hot lips press against Julius somewhere behind his ear.

(And this is how the chronicle is written in the stars: that night, Julius does not return to the hotel. It feels like a a half-forgotten journey, made anew years later, where the unfamiliar becomes recognizable in one moment — where, a second before the hands intertwine, a non-existent old touch tickles and tears under the skin — and at the moment of contact everything comes together, as if a contradiction resolves. Perhaps this is the most historical of it all; perhaps humanity is connected to each other through the centuries by the clutch of hands.)

(And this is how the chronicle is written in the stars: in the "E + S = ♡" on a cafe chalkboard a narrowed "+ J" gets squeezed in.)

In the slow interval between day and dusk, when the sun has not yet touched the edge of the horizon, but its light reaches an evening viscosity of spilled honey, Julius's shoe — stepping on the cultural layer of the fifteenth century that was going to be left untouched — crunches an earring, and the heel sticks into the skull.

The entire skeleton is dug out faster than one might think, and with a tremulous reverence that suddenly makes Julius's chest ache: no matter how close they look, there are no remains of the coffin, no tombstone with a name, or any other trace of the grave. The tattered clothes on him are so torn that you can't tell the century they are from — but through them, you can see broken bones, dozens and hundreds, as if someone — of unprecedented strength — beat him for hours, crushed him with a huge boulder, or maybe dropped him from a great height.

"Come on, come on," Anastasia mutters, hastily flipping through the notes on her phone. "Museums will snatch up a find like this, I can tell it!"

Bending over the bones with a brush and an awl to clean the stuck soil, Julius feels inappropriately happy. He tries hard to convince himself that his eyes are watering from the setting sun.

#re zero #rzs3fanweek #my writing #emijulisuba

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lifeofpriya · 2 months ago

Note

Could I have wrapping arms around the other's neck when standing behind them and reaching out with their hand without saying anything, wanting the other one to grab it first Jack Drapper please xx

hi anon! i've linked the fic with the other prompt here :)

The Quiet Moments

wc: 1.4k

You notice the way the light filters through the window blinds, casting a pattern of shadows across the floorboards. It's a lazy Sunday afternoon, and the house is filled with the scent of coffee and the faint hum of a distant lawnmower. You're in the kitchen, the room that's become your sanctuary since moving in with Jack. The counters are scattered with recipe books and Tupperware lids, a testament to your weekly meal prep ritual. You glance over at the clock. 2:45 PM. Jack should be home soon, finishing up his training session at the tennis courts.

As you stir the pot of chili, you can't help but think about how your relationship with Jack has evolved over the past year. From the awkward first dates to the silent moments of understanding that now pass between you, it's grown into something you cherish deeply. And then there's that one gesture of affection that never fails to warm your heart: the way you love to wrap your arms around his neck whenever you stand behind him. It's your silent declaration of support, a reminder that no matter what happens on the court, you're there for him.

The door swings open, and in strides Jack, his cheeks flushed from the workout, his hair a mess of sweat and sun. His eyes light up when they meet yours, and a tired smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. "Hey," he says, his voice a little gruff from the exertion. You can't help but return the smile, setting the spoon down to walk over and greet him properly.

You wrap your arms around his neck, just as you've done countless times before, feeling the firmness of his muscles beneath your fingertips. He leans into your embrace, his own arms circling your waist. For a moment, you're both lost in the comfort of each other's touch, the outside world fading away. His chest rises and falls with deep breaths, and you can feel the warmth of his body seeping into yours. The smell of sweat and sunscreen is oddly comforting, a scent that's become as familiar as your own.

Jack's grip tightens for a second before he pulls away, his eyes searching yours. "How was your day?" he asks, genuine interest coloring his voice. You recount the mundane details of grocery shopping and laundry, but he listens as if every word is a secret shared. His eyes never leave yours, and you feel a warmth spread through you that has nothing to do with the chili simmering on the stove.

He takes a step closer, his hand reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "I missed you," he whispers, his breath tickling the sensitive skin on your neck. You lean into him, feeling the urgency in his touch. The kitchen, with its comforting aromas and familiar sights, fades into the background as you become lost in the intensity of his gaze.

Jack's thumb traces the line of your jaw, sending shivers down your spine. "I need a shower," he says with a playful smirk, "but I'm starving." The spell is broken, and you laugh, stepping back to give him space.

"The chili will be ready in about 10 minutes," you tell him, your voice a little shakier than you intended. You turn back to the stove, giving yourself a moment to regain your composure. The bubbling pot releases a waft of spices into the air, and you stir it absently, watching the rich, red sauce thicken.

Jack nods, his eyes never leaving you as he walks to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. He twists the cap off and takes a long drink, his Adam's apple bobbing with each swallow. You can't help but appreciate the view, the way his T-shirt clings to his toned torso. The sound of the liquid hitting the bottom of the bottle echoes in the quiet kitchen.

"Need any help?" he offers, his voice low and rumbling.

You shake your head, smiling over your shoulder. "It's all under control," you reply, adding a pinch of salt to the chili. The sizzle it makes when it hits the hot pot is oddly satisfying.

Jack nods, setting the empty bottle on the counter. He leans against the fridge, his arms crossed over his chest, watching you with a mix of admiration and hunger. The silence stretches out between you, filled only with the comforting sounds of pans clinking and water running as you prepare a bowl of chili.

You ladle a generous portion into a bowl, the steam rising up to tickle your nose with the scent of chili powder and cumin. You carry it over to the table, setting it down with a gentle thud. "Why don't you sit?" you suggest, gesturing to the chair opposite you. He does, his eyes never leaving yours as you take your place.

As you both dig into the chili, the conversation flows easily, a mix of the trivial and the profound. You share your thoughts on the latest book you've read, while he recounts tales of his training sessions, the camaraderie and competition that fuels his passion for tennis. His enthusiasm is infectious, and you find yourself smiling, lost in his stories of aces and volleys.

Jack's eyes light up as he talks about a new strategy he's been working on, and you lean in closer, your elbows resting on the table. His words paint vivid images in your mind, the sound of the ball whipping through the air, the grunts of effort, the roar of the crowd. You feel a swell of pride in his accomplishments, in the dedication that's made him one of the best young players in the world.

As you both laugh over a shared joke, something shifts in the air between you, the laughter fading into a gentle silence. You reach across the table, placing your hand on top of his, feeling the warmth and strength of his calloused fingers. He looks up, his eyes locking onto yours, and for a moment, it's as if you're the only two people in the world.

Jack's hand turns over, and he threads his fingers through yours, holding on tightly. "Thank you," he says, his voice filled with more than just gratitude for the meal. It's a recognition of the quiet support you provide, the unspoken understanding that you're there for him, through the victories and the defeats.

You squeeze his hand in return, a silent promise to always be his rock. The warmth of his touch sends a comforting shiver up your arm, and you realize how much you've come to rely on these moments of connection. The kitchen feels cozy, a cocoon of love and comfort in the middle of a world that often seems too big and too fast.

As you eat, you notice the way the sunlight catches the flecks of gold in his eyes, making them sparkle like stars. His laugh lines are more pronounced when he's relaxed like this, and you can't help but feel a surge of affection for the young man who's stolen your heart. You've seen the fierce determination in those eyes on the tennis court, the steely glare as he fights for every point, but here, in the quiet of your home, they're soft and full of life.

Jack tells you about his coach's advice from this morning, the subtle adjustments he's working on in his serve. You nod along, not fully understanding the technicalities, but knowing how much it means to him. You've learned the lingo over the months, the nuances of his sport, because it's part of who he is, and you want to share in his passions.

As you listen, you feel a sense of belonging, a piece of you fitting perfectly into the puzzle of his life. The kitchen, with its worn wooden table and mismatched chairs, becomes more than just a place to eat. It's a space where you both recharge, where you share the highs and lows of your days, and plan for the future.

Jack's hand moves from yours to rest on your thigh, his thumb tracing lazy circles through the fabric of your jeans. The simple touch sends a jolt of electricity through you, a reminder of the passion that simmers just beneath the surface of your everyday life together. You lean in, your foreheads touching, and you breathe him in. The scent of his sweat and the faint tang of the chili mingle in the air, creating a scent that is uniquely "you and Jack.

He sighs contentedly, his eyes closing for a brief moment. "I love you," he murmurs, the words warm and sincere. You smile, feeling a rush of emotion that you can't quite name.

"I love you too," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. It's a declaration you've made countless times before, but it never loses its power to make your heart swell.

#jack draper #jack draper imagine #jack draper imagines #jack draper fic #jack draper fics #jack draper x reader #tennis imagine #tennis imagines #tennis fic #tennis fics

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muchymozzarella · 2 years ago

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Hey y'all I wanted to make this post in case y'all didn't know about this and wanted to try it out - DETERGENT STRIPS! Basically made to lower/eliminate plastic waste from laundry

The brand I use and that's most well known is Tru-Earth. I can't say much about other brands but I wanted to give y'all my experience with this + info from reviews

PROS

Comes in cardboard packaging - way thinner, lighter and easier to deliver than super heavy detergent bottles. Also more sustainable since the packaging doesn't have plastic

Works well for almost all laundry! I use it ALL THE TIME, it's basically 95% replaced any other liquid detergent for me

While slightly more expensive than average detergent per order, it's not that much more expensive and definitely more affordable in bulk for a lot of people

Super easy to use

Paraben free, hypo-allergenic as per their website. I'm not 1000% sure on this one but I have pretty sensitive skin and strong allergies and I've been using it on my bedsheets and clothes and have had no issues

Smells nice when I hold it, BUT

CONS

Even the scented ones basically don't have a smell at all when you smell the clothes. The only scent seems to be when you're holding them in your hand. You'll have to invest in separate scent additions for your clothes, which I usually achieve with wool balls + scented oils in the dryer

I sometimes have to use more than the recommended single strip, but only because I have huge laundry loads (and usually it's only like, 1 1/2 to 2 strips, nothing major)

If you need a much stronger wash and stain removal, according to some reviews this doesn't do very well to remove major stains. It does, however, do well with regular washings, so for most types of regular laundry it's great. I've not run into this issue since for major stains I try to get ahead of the wash with some home remedy stain removal THEN put it in the laundry, but I wanted to bring this point up.

Some of the major issues in reviews seems to be some lacking customer service rather than the product itself, so you might run into some customer service issues (though I personally never have)

Someone suggested that you'd have to still use regular strong liquid detergent every once in a while, but I think that's still a major upgrade from using too many bottles that will end up in a landfill anyway - and there are methods to make up for this shortfall that are more sustainable.

I know there are probably other ways that are way more sustainable, but this was a method I found that's easy to use, easy to get delivered for me since it's about the size of a normal letter, and cheaper in bulk, and I basically just use it all the time.

My laundry is basically this + wool dryer balls with scented oils so they end up well washed and smelling great and it feels pretty good not to have to deal with the huge plastic bottles from detergent.

As of writing, apart from some of the customer service reviews I've seen no major issues with the company, and it has almost 20000 reviews on Amazon with a majority being positive, 75% being 5 star, so there's that to consider.

#tru earth #detergent strips #sustainable #eco friendly #zero waste #kind of #laundry strips #the life and times of muchy

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ass-sassafras · 1 year ago

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Is this RSD, am I too sensitive or are people just mean in general?

It doesn't matter how much I accomplish, people still shit on me. Today alone, I was told by my daughter that she'll be a better mom than me. Admittedly she's 8 so this shouldn't bother me and at first it didn't. She wasn't even mad at the time; we were playing with Legos and having a good time.

Then, my son wanted to take a drive just me and him which I think is sweet. So we drove around country roads and had some nice conversations. He said he couldn't talk to me a lot at home because his sister interrupts all the time. Then, when we were about to be home, he said he knew about a really cool science thing, but I wouldn't understand it because I'm bad at math. I kind of paused and asked some nonchalant, non-leading questions, and apparently he was talking with his dad who for some reason in addition to telling his son about this cool science fact, found it necessary to inform my son that his mom won't understand it like the two of them do because she's bad at math. My son is in the fifth grade, I'm sure whatever math level he understands, I could manage.

Then, while I was internally patting myself on the back for making some excellent homemade caesar dressing for the first time, I heard my ex bf/roommate start the clothes washer, so I ran over and asked him not to wash my favorite hoodie which was on top. He hadn't because he thought it was clean. He asked me why I didn't want it in the washer, so I told him there's melted chocolate all over the front from when I got the munchies a few days ago and microwaved a smore with dark chocolate. I was high and also didn't realize the chocolate was liquid when I bit into it.

He rolled his eyes, then looked at me exasperated and said "God, you're such a messy eater!" This mother fucker doesn't clean up after me or do my laundry, and he's constantly making fun of me for dumb shit that's none of his business. Oh, and I pay all the fucking bills and do all the grocery shopping and cooking. It's never good enough.

Idk man, these three examples of how I'm a fuckup all in one afternoon just killed my mood for the day

I'm trying to grow thicker skin but it doesn't work all the time. If I let my guard down, people who I care for hurt me.

The kids are just kids, they're bound to say things that are insensitive sometimes, but jfc I'm trying my best here.

#advice #parenting #relationships #adhd rsd #rsd things

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notmumtoday · 9 months ago

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suburblocal · 10 months ago

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purcho · 9 days ago

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Fabric Softener: Your Guide to Softer, Fresher Laundry

When it comes to laundry, the journey doesn't end with washing. Adding fabric softener can transform your clothes, leaving them feeling softer, fresher, and more pleasant to wear. In this post, we’ll explore what fabric softener is, how it works, the benefits it offers, and some tips for using it effectively.

What is Fabric Softener?

Fabric softener, also known as fabric conditioner, is a laundry additive designed to soften fibers and reduce static cling in clothes. It typically comes in liquid, dryer sheet, or pellet form and is applied during the rinse cycle or in the dryer. Fabric softeners contain chemical compounds that coat fabric fibers, making them feel smoother, reducing static, and often adding a pleasant scent.

How Does Fabric Softener Work?

The main purpose of fabric softener is to reduce friction between fabric fibers. During washing, clothes are agitated, which can roughen the fibers, making them feel coarse. Fabric softeners contain cationic surfactants—positively charged molecules—that bond with negatively charged fibers, smoothing them out and reducing static electricity. This process helps prevent stiffness, making clothes feel softer and fresher.

Key Benefits of Using Fabric Softener

Enhanced Softness and Comfort

Fabric softeners make your clothes, towels, and linens feel soft and comfortable. Softer fabrics are particularly enjoyable to wear, especially for items like bath towels, which come in close contact with your skin.

Reduced Static Cling

Static cling can make clothes stick together, especially synthetic fabrics like polyester. Fabric softener neutralizes the static charge, preventing clothes from sticking and making them easier to fold and handle after drying.

Prolonged Fabric Lifespan

By reducing friction and wear, fabric softeners can extend the life of your clothes. The softening effect decreases fiber breakage, meaning your garments hold up better over time and maintain their color and shape.

Added Freshness and Scent

Many fabric softeners come in various scents that infuse clothes with a lasting fragrance, keeping them smelling fresh even after being stored in a drawer or closet. This can add a comforting aroma to your linens, clothes, and towels.

Wrinkle Reduction

Fabric softeners can help reduce wrinkles, making ironing easier or even unnecessary. Clothes emerge from the dryer smoother, meaning you save time on maintenance.

Tips for Using Fabric Softener Effectively

Don’t Overuse

A small amount goes a long way. Excess fabric softener can leave a residue on clothes, leading to a greasy feel or even skin irritation. Always follow the recommended dosage on the product label.

Avoid on Certain Fabrics

Fabric softeners work wonders on cotton, polyester, and similar materials but can have a negative effect on athletic wear, towels, and flame-resistant fabrics. They can reduce the absorbency of towels and interfere with moisture-wicking properties, so skip it on those items.

Consider Eco-Friendly Options

There are plant-based and biodegradable fabric softeners on the market, which are gentler on the environment and often hypoallergenic, making them suitable for sensitive skin.

Use in the Rinse Cycle

If you’re using a liquid fabric softener, be sure to add it during the rinse cycle for optimal absorption. Adding it during the wash cycle can cause it to be washed away before it has a chance to work its magic.

Conclusion

Fabric softener can be a game-changer in your laundry routine, transforming clothes from scratchy and dull to soft, fresh, and wrinkle-free. With proper use, it can protect your garments and extend their lifespan, making them more enjoyable to wear and easier to care for. So, the next time you’re doing laundry, consider adding a splash of fabric softener for that extra touch of comfort.

#purcho store #Fabric Softener

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mathewmartin1 · 14 days ago

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The Ultimate Guide to Washing Powder - How to Choose the Best for Your Laundry

When you think about doing laundry, the first thing that comes to mind is the washing powder you use. Is it strong enough to clean those tough stains? Does it leave your clothes smelling fresh and feeling soft? In this guide, we’ll dive deep into the world of washing powder, answering all your questions and helping you make the best choice for your laundry needs.

What is Washing Powder and How Does It Work?

At its core, washing powder is a powdered detergent designed to remove dirt, grease, and stains from clothes. Made from a mix of surfactants, builders, enzymes, and other additives, it works by breaking down oils and dirt so they can be washed away. But not all washing powders are created equal. Some have added features like fabric softeners or fragrances, while others focus purely on stain removal.

How does it work?

When mixed with water, the ingredients in the washing powder work together to loosen dirt from fabric fibers. Surfactants help water spread evenly over your clothes, while enzymes break down proteins like blood, sweat, and food particles. Builders soften the water, allowing the washing powder to clean more effectively.

Why Choose Washing Powder Over Liquid Detergent?

Both washing powder and liquid detergent have their pros and cons. So, why choose washing powder?

Affordability: Washing powder tends to be cheaper than liquid alternatives, especially when bought in bulk.

Long Shelf Life: Since it's dry, washing powder doesn't expire as quickly as liquid detergents.

Effectiveness on Stains: Powders are particularly good at handling tough, ground-in stains like mud and grass.

Environmental Impact: Many brands of washing powder come in recyclable cardboard packaging, making it a more eco-friendly option.

Despite these benefits, some people prefer liquid detergents because they dissolve easily in water. However, with the right dosing and cycle settings, washing powder can dissolve just as effectively.

The Ingredients that Make Washing Powder Effective

The effectiveness of washing powder comes down to the right combination of ingredients. Here’s what’s typically inside:

Surfactants: These are the key cleaning agents that help lift dirt and oils from fabrics.

Builders: These ingredients soften hard water, allowing the surfactants to work better.

Enzymes: Different enzymes target different stains. Protease enzymes break down protein stains like blood, while amylase enzymes break down starches from foods.

Fragrance: Many washing powders include fragrances to leave clothes smelling fresh after the wash.

Optical Brighteners: These chemicals reflect light, making your whites appear whiter and colors more vibrant.

Types of Washing Powders: Which One is Right for You?

Choosing the right washing powder can be tricky with so many options available. Here’s a breakdown of the main types:

Biological Washing Powder: Contains enzymes that are highly effective in removing tough stains like grease and food. Ideal for normal washes but may cause skin irritation in those with sensitive skin.

Non-Biological Washing Powder: Free from enzymes, making it gentler on the skin. Perfect for baby clothes and individuals with skin conditions.

Eco-Friendly Washing Powder: Made from natural, biodegradable ingredients. These powders are often free from harmful chemicals and come in recyclable packaging.

Sensitive Skin Formulas: Specially designed for people with allergies or sensitivities, these powders are hypoallergenic and free from fragrances or dyes.

Top Brands of Washing Powder You Should Consider

The global laundry detergent market is massive, with washing powder accounting for a large portion of sales. Some of the most trusted brands include:

Ariel: Known for its powerful stain-removing properties and a favorite among many households.

Persil: Another popular brand, Persil offers both biological and non-biological options.

Tide: A well-known brand in the U.S., Tide’s washing powder is renowned for its deep cleaning action.

Surf: This brand offers washing powders with vibrant fragrances, giving your clothes a fresh scent after every wash.

Ecover: An eco-friendly option, Ecover washing powder is plant-based and gentle on both clothes and the environment.

Eco-Friendly Washing Powders: A Sustainable Choice

With the increasing awareness of environmental issues, many consumers are turning to eco-friendly washing powders. These products are made with biodegradable ingredients and come in recyclable packaging, reducing the carbon footprint of your laundry routine.

Here are some tips for choosing an eco-friendly washing powder:

Look for washing powders that are free from phosphates, as these can harm aquatic ecosystems.

Choose products with plant-based surfactants instead of synthetic chemicals.

Avoid washing powders with optical brighteners, as they don’t biodegrade easily.

How to Use Washing Powder Effectively

Using washing powder correctly can make a big difference in how clean your clothes get. Here are some tips for getting the best results:

Use the right amount: Too much washing powder can leave residue on your clothes, while too little won’t clean effectively. Follow the dosing instructions on the packaging.

Pre-treat stains: For stubborn stains, apply a small amount of washing powder directly to the stain and rub it in before washing.

Choose the right water temperature: Some washing powders work better in cold water, while others need warm or hot water to activate the enzymes. Check the label to see the recommended temperature.

Avoid overloading the machine: Your clothes need space to move around in the drum for the washing powder to work effectively.

Common Washing Powder Myths Debunked

There are many myths surrounding washing powder, and it’s time to clear them up:

"More powder means cleaner clothes." Not true. Using more than the recommended amount of washing powder can leave residue on your clothes and in your machine.

"Powder clogs up the machine." While this can happen if you use too much powder, sticking to the recommended dose and running an occasional cleaning cycle will keep your machine in top condition.

"Liquid detergents are always better." This depends on your laundry needs. Washing powders are often better at handling heavy-duty cleaning tasks like removing dirt and stains from outdoor clothing.

The Environmental Impact of Washing Powder

It’s important to consider the environmental impact of your laundry routine. Traditional washing powders can contain chemicals that are harmful to waterways and wildlife. Switching to an eco-friendly detergent can make a significant difference.

Some brands are now offering washing powders in concentrated forms, which use less packaging and fewer resources to produce. This not only helps reduce waste but also cuts down on transportation emissions.

FAQs

How do I know which washing powder is right for me? Consider your laundry needs—if you have sensitive skin, a non-bio washing powder might be best. For tough stains, look for a powder with added enzymes.

Can washing powder be used for hand washing? Yes, but use a smaller amount to avoid excessive foam. Some washing powders are specifically designed for hand washing and are gentler on your hands.

Is washing powder safe for all fabrics? Most washing powders are safe for a wide range of fabrics, but always check the care label on your clothing. Delicate items like silk or wool may require a specialized detergent.

Does washing powder expire? Washing powders typically have a long shelf life, but over time, the ingredients can lose their effectiveness, especially if exposed to moisture.

Can I mix washing powder with other laundry products? Yes, you can use washing powder alongside fabric softeners, stain removers, and other laundry aids. Just make sure to follow the instructions on each product to avoid any interactions.

How does washing powder compare to laundry pods? Laundry pods are pre-measured and convenient, but they’re often more expensive. Washing powder gives you more control over the amount you use and is generally more cost-effective.

Conclusion

Washing powder is a versatile and effective solution for keeping your clothes clean and fresh. Whether you're looking for a powerful stain remover or a gentle option for sensitive skin, there's a washing powder out there for you. By understanding the different types and how they work, you can make an informed choice that suits your laundry needs.

Remember, the right washing powder can make all the difference in achieving clean, soft, and vibrant clothes!

#Cleaning Power #stain removal #laundry detergent #washing powder

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