#<- rarest tag on earth

[wrecking]

new pfp is so cute!!!

aw thank you!! i've been obsessed with the way she's drawn here

[aduckinpain]

The Sunset clashes on waves of Cobalt

Tags: Character study style writing, Hurt/comfort, Happy Ending, Pure Soukoku, Everything in chronological order, Dazai Osamu's in character existential crisis, They're in love, Dazai's obsession with Chuuya's corruption, his obsession with chuuya honestly.

Word Count: 7.3k

This is also on AO3 by roianamustang (me).

Life is finicky. Evasive. Confusing. A fluke. Something, created from nearly nothing, by pure chance. It’s involuntary. You wake up one day, only to acknowledge your newly discovered existence by at least 2 years. Your lungs expand, your heart beats, your blood rushes, your ears hear and your eyes see. And your mind runs. It runs and runs, it runs out of breath. It searches for more, information flooding from every crevice.

Life is important, according to every living being. Even the most miniscule little creature will value it over anything else, whether that be by running, hiding or fighting. Even plants reach for the sun in hopes of waking up the next morning.

Dazai Osamu reached for the Sun when he was five and it burned. Leaving trails in its wake. 

Life is a continuous string of events that emerges by chance. It has variables so intricate, they can’t be calculated. Time, variety, coincidence. Fate. It starts unknown, and it ends the same.

Depending on where you live, people can live a healthy 80 years, and die peacefully in their bed, surrounded by loved ones. Yet, one lifetime is not enough.

We enter this world unwillingly, so why do we fight so hard for it?

Why are we so scared of death? Of the unknown?

How can you love life so much, that you fear the end of it?

What’s so unique about monotony and routines?

At the end of the day humans are mammals. Their ability to produce milk and have hair puts them in another category, while their capability of thought and intelligence, puts them in another rank. 

And still, our reason for living is to just not die. Survival, something every other creature on this earth, prioritizes.

So he doesn’t get it. 

Things can be pretty, things can be sacred, they can be fun, loving, but they are all temporary. Most of the emotions a human being feels in a lifetime are neutrality and anxiety, stress, fear, sadness, nostalgia and melancholy. Happiness and excitement, in its purest form are the rarest, with sudden entrances and premature disappearances. They’re hard to find, hard to replicate, hard to give. 

And at the end of it all, you die and everything is forgotten. You are a machine run by tubes and liquid that shuts off and that is it.

The world with all of its colors is bleak, the humans vary physically yet act similarly, predictably, and life dies.

But normal people don’t think like this. Normal people don’t stare at their ceiling willing themselves to drink water or eat food. Normal people don’t burn when others touch them. They don’t numb when their surroundings become too much. They don’t hate. 

They care and they love and they find meanings in everything.

Dazai doesn't.

Dazai hurts.

Why can’t he just be normal and meaningless and random and flitting and living and dead? 

Why can’t he be human?

What is he?

15 years of Dazai’s life have passed and he can confidently say that he has effectively erased his first 10 and blurred the last 5.

It all comes to a shocking halt, or more accurately, a start, when one moment he was walking in the empty, dusty streets of Suribachi City, with its secrets and rats, and the next he was…not?

Air escaped his lungs so fast, Dazai couldn’t even process the ever moving environment. 

Blink.

He blinked and he saw blue.

He blinked again, and he saw waves of cobalt crashing upon the sunset’s rays.

Or more realistically crashing into him.

A foot holding him down and the other kicking his face, Dazai Osamu breathed and felt air enter his blood for the first time since he was born.

The sun shone. 

And so did his eye.

His heart filled with oxygen. Beating steadily for the first time.

When Mori told him ‘Nothing dangerous’, he of course didn’t believe it. And looking at the bright red head of hair next to him, so tiny, so miniscule, so small, compact, microscopi-

“The fuck you looking at?”

Blue turned to him, glaringly darker and in the background he was very aware of the noise leaving its mouth. 

He just didn’t care to listen.

Nakahara Chuuya. 15 years old and yet, here he stood. The leader of The Sheep. So loud. So present in such a small body, as if it couldn’t contain him. As if it held death and destruction, and life.

Even by Dazai’s own standards, he wasn’t stupid. Chuuya was dangerous. To what extent he’s not sure yet, still willing to push some more buttons, to see some more outcomes, but still at the very least, he is very strong. And while he would love to pester Mori about this sudden mission, something was holding him back.

The next thing Dazai knows the gun is getting kicked out of his hand.

Blink.

And another blink. His eye captures life and Dazai Osamu jerks in its hold.

‘In other words, the suicidal maniac wants to live.’

‘I’ve come to think its worth trying.’

Because of you was left unspoken and yet to be understood by either one of them.

With Randou dead, Dazai had already started putting other plans in motion. 

Nakahara Chuuya lost a bet after all, he now needed to pay the price.

Looking at him now, on top of rocks, rubble around him, water rising and waves crashing, never getting close to that blue of his, breath stuttering, eyes hurt. 

Dazai had never seen something more human.

He wanted that.

He wanted Chuuya.

Dazai wanted Chuuya.

Odasaku was quiet. As a man yes, but also as a presence. Odasaku was a blank slate willing to hand you the pen, write on him and react accordingly. He did not uphold expectations or even judgment. 

Dazai liked Odasaku. 

If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend to sleep with the man’s presence next to him.

Odasaku listened and answered in seemingly normal replies that sometimes caught Dazai by surprise. So when he had ranted about Nakahara Chuuya to him the last thing he had expected was the man to say that ‘Nakahara seems like a nice guy then yeah?’. 

A small moment of quiet had made Oda turn, locking eyes with the fifteen year old. 

And he halted.

Dazai made some sort of noise of surprise and frustration and went through another round of ranting, screeching, he wasn’t sure at this point, all of it to properly make Odasaku understand the vile creature he had been stuck with babysitting.

He could keep yapping all he wanted, cause Oda Sakunosuke had never in his life met a kid like Dazai Osamu. 

And until now, Oda Sakunosuke had never seen that singular brown orb turn caramel with light. 

He had never seen Dazai Osamu look so alive before. 

Smiling, he continued listening to the annoyed voice of the boy next to him.

Seemingly out of spite, in Dazai’s eye at least, Odasaku, very out of character just replied with an outrageous statement that Dazai could not allow to even exist, never mind be thought, even worse be stated to the air surrounding him.

‘You really like this guy huh?’

And the cycle repeated.

As it would for the next 3 years.

Arahabaki, the lab, the Flags, Verlaine. If he couldn’t have a break, he can’t imagine what it is like for Chuuya. Well, if he cared enough in the first place.

Dazai is a notorious liar. He knows that, after all, he did perfect the skill on his own. However, in this moment, after all of these fights and new revelations, he can’t lie and say that he isn’t just tired. Having to deal with Verlaine’s corruption activation and planning for counter attacks was a new challenge, yes, but one he would have enjoyed more if his dog wouldn’t be the center of them in the first place.

If Dazai was tired, Chuuya was exhausted. 

And grieving.

He’d watched Chuuya fight, watched him anger, rage. But after the Sheep, he didn’t think he’d ever watch him break.

Following the beeping red light of his tracker, that he'd placed in Chuuya’s shoes, of course without his knowledge, the last thing he had expected was to be led to the Mafia’s transportation unit. 

Walking in, the echo of the weird fancy shoes that were given to him collided with the walls of the garage. The lights flickered in certain spots, almost as if on purpose.

It was so quiet, he’d imagine that if a feather fell, it would still be heard. 

Which is what confused him.

Nakahara Chuuya was not a quiet person. He was loud, deafening and present at all times. Everything he did was flashy, deliberately or not. 

‘Finding Chuuya is always easy. If you head towards whatever is making the loudest noise, he’ll be there.’

So either his tracker:

a) didn’t work

b) was found and eaten by his dog

Or

c) Chuuya was like dying or something.

The echo halted along with every other noise when he stepped into the small side room. 

He blinked again. Life was flickering.

Anything. 

He would do anything for it to be one of those options.

He would do anything just to have Chuuya rise to his feet.

He would do anything just to have him stop crying.

Dazai was frozen there. For the first time in a long while he felt powerless. He knew what to do when he was feeling this way but he’d never do those things to Chuuya.

Chuuya just stood there, sitting against an obnoxious pink motorcycle, heaving. 

And yet, he was quiet.

You could barely hear his breath stuttering, almost as if he just wanted the ground to swallow him whole, his existence to stop, to just disappear. He seemed so out of it, that he hadn’t even noticed Dazai just standing there.

Feeling his brain reboot, Dazai went to work. He’d treat this like a mission if he had to.

Chuuya liked touch. Not with just anyone no, however one of his main ways of expressing affection and care always seemed to be with vague caresses. Or punches.

But whenever Dazai got like this, he hated touch.

Brows furrowed in confusion, he tried racking his brain for a solution. He’d do both.

Making his steps loud and clear allowed him to be processed by Chuuya’s already small, but now hindered brain. Dazai took off his jacket and lowered to the ground, putting himself between the wall and Chuuya, taking off Chuuya’s hat and wrapping him head to toe. 

Chuuya had somehow gone even more quiet, and now he’d gotten tense. He can’t have that, so Dazai, for the first time in his life, hugged.

He closed his arms around the small frame and hoped.

A minute passed, maybe two, before he felt Chuuya deflate. He didn’t try to stop him from crying, that wouldn’t help, he just held him closer, allowing the weight of the smaller body to push him towards the wall behind his back.

The man- no the boy in his arms kept shaking and Dazai just didn’t know what to do. Reluctantly, scared to do anything wrong, he let his right hand rake through the now freed red locks and pushed his head closer to his own shoulder, this way Chuuya wouldn’t get even more tired.

A gasp of air, a gulp, a sharp intake and the words coming next broke Dazai’s already dead heart.

Why?

Why?

Why me?

What did I do?

I'm sorry. I’m sorry, I'm sorry, please just stop.

Because if Dazai had to name the most human person he’d met, he’d always say Chuuya.

If Dazai had to name the most raw showcase of human range, he’d always say Chuuya.

If Dazai had to name a person, he’d always say Chuuya.

Not your fault Chuuya, it never is.

He won’t hurt like this ever again.

Dazai will make sure of it. Nothing has the right to hurt his Chuuya like this, not even him.

Molten brown had turned dark and Dazai Osamu made a promise to himself.

He never made promises, they required you to stay alive.

But this one was the first one. 

The first one he’ll make sure to bring to his grave.

The entrance to Dazai’s office has a dark oak door, engraved with vines that curl on its edges. Its handle is typical Mafia gold. The office itself is nothing special, he made sure of it. Pristine, dark plates built his floor, almost mockingly, a carpet lay over them, right in the middle and a dark red Chesterfield sofa stood to the side of a small table. If he had to give it a color it would be deoxygenated blood. Or Corruption swirls. He certainly liked one more than the other. 

Today Mori sounded weird.

-er than usual.

Dazai makes a point to not use this office, but today it awaited him with a small stack of papers smack dab into the middle of his wooden empty desk. No pen in sight. This document wasn’t paperwork, it was information.

It would be ironic to say he had a bad feeling about it as some people would argue he’s got those all the time and they overwhelmed him. Some would argue he isn’t capable of feeling them in the first place. Both arguments are stated in late nights between missions and a very talkative red blob in his (read: Chuuya’s) apartment. 

Its quiet in this office, his shoes echo and he’s distinctly aware of the air around him colliding with his skin. A quick look around with his eye showed no signs of a trap.

Mimic.

A guerrilla organization from Europe that escaped to Japan after committing a war-crime sometime during the past global war. Mori wanted them dead. Or at least that’s what he said. But this apparent important information of a highly dangerous organization was not given to Soukoku.

No, it was given to the low-leveled grunt worker, Oda Sakunosuke. 

It was given to Odasaku.

Skimming through the documents, Dazai swiftly left the office.

He would never see it again.

Odasaku was quiet. As a man yes, but also as a presence. Odasaku was a blank slate willing to hand you the pen, write on him and react accordingly. He did not uphold expectations or even judgment. 

Dazai liked Odasaku. 

And at this point he could safely claim that new information had been updated in his Odasaku file.

Odasaku, throughout the years, cared for Dazai.

Now, Dazai cared for Odasaku.

The longest of nights, when he didn’t want a loud distraction or bloodied floors, he texted Oda. He would always answer, they’d meet up and they’d stay quiet. Just in the presence of the other. 

Dazai always felt safe and against his better judgment, understood by Chuuya, but being near Chuuya meant that at some point vulnerability would rear its ugly head, on those days Dazai just wanted a known space with a comforting presence. Odasaku was just that.

Chuuya was warm and bright and alive. He tethered Dazai to the concept of a human being. But sometimes Dazai just wanted an empty, fuzzy head. Sometimes the only exception of touch for Dazai was not what he wanted at the moment. So he searched for long nights and useless topics followed by silences and burning drinks or scalding curry.

Dazai found his constants for however many more years he’d survive this Earth.

The narrative was written and he felt content enough.

So why did the story change?

It had been a close call, a stroke of luck you could even call it, saving Odasaku in time the first time. And it has and will always be a lost cause convincing the man to kill instead of flee. 

It had been a close call, a stroke of luck you could even call it, saving Odasaku in time the second time. An extra wound added from Ango’s betrayal. 

If he could do it twice, what was a third time?

A bullet was shot. A body was falling.

So why were his hands warm? Why did they match the color of his sofa?

Why did it have to be Odasaku?

He found out about the kids but it was too late.

He found out about the motive but it was too late.

He figured out Mori’s plan.

It was too late.

You won’t find it.

Be on the side that saves people.

If both sides are the same, become a good man.

It’s pretty fady after that.

Contacting Ango was easy.

Burying Odasaku wasn’t.

Dazai Osamu, Demon Prodigy, youngest Port Mafia Executive, existed no more.

The only loose thread he had, was his other half on the other side of the world waiting to finish a mission.

He’d leave that thread sewn in.

He’d plant a bomb. 

He’d send a message.

He’d go into hiding for two years.

And for now, he’d live.

In the blink of an eye, Dazai Osamu had disappeared. 

People exist to save themselves.

A year and a half had already passed but it's not like Dazai had a concept of time anyways. The hiding and the erasure was easy. The boredom was not. Boredom brewed silences. Silences happened alone now. Being alone let his head be free. Or trapped he’d say, is the better description of it. 

It was raining today. Enough to keep the ground wet. Being in hiding didn’t really allow Dazai to wander but no one was looking for him under a lone tree, leaning on a gravestone in the middle of a field, so he let himself have this. 

He leaned his head on the stone. The rain wasn’t just heavy enough to keep the ground wet but also to drench him completely, but the sound of it was almost comforting in a way. The sky a uniform gray spanning into the horizon boringly, something it rarely does. 

The bomb had taken a bit to be processed by the slug’s brain, but it was successfully understood. For the first time in a while Dazai had reached out his hand first and let Chuuya make the decision. Contact would be hard, dangerous and almost non-existent, but he was willing to try. 

Of course after an even longer period of silence, because if Chuuya was one thing, it was petty.

So every now and then, on an anniversary or birthday, a mysterious little bouquet of Red Camellias would show up on the red head’s door.

A symbol of death yes, but that of a noble one. Sacred, godly. Left to the hands of a God of Calamity.

Unwavering loyalty.

Trust.

And every now and then, on an anniversary or birthday, something would be awaiting Dazai right next to the door. Whether that be a set or freshly rolled bandages or a gaming console.

A sigh left his lungs, uncovered irises following its trail disappear into thin air.

He got a soda before coming here, a funny joke he thinks Odasaku would chuckle with. Laughing just by yourself is just sad at this point.

S. Oda engraved in stone, buried in soil, clawing his head.

He’d use that as an excuse for the extra weight slipping from his eyes. 

Beige felt weird on him. It had been Odasaku’s signature color and Dazai was wearing it in tribute to that but it felt weird on him. 

Nevertheless, this wasn’t about him.

He climbed the stairs of a fairly new Detective Agency. He could almost feel the nerves, if he’d let himself feel in the first place.

The door opened almost dramatically, and the sun was shining brightly, reflecting off the nearly white tiles. 

“You’re here.”

Before him stood an older man with horrifically gray hair. The Boss of this thing then. Coffee brown eyes took in everything around him. There were three more people there.

A man sat behind a desk with curiously shut eyes and an insane amount of candy lay in front of him. That one was dangerous, he knew things and knew that Dazai knew he knew things.

A woman stood by the side of what looked like to be the inside of an infirmary, he knew of Yosano, or more accurately, of the consequences of her existence.

The most normal one of all had to be this one blonde man who looked like he’d blow a fuse if something didn’t go his way. Perfect, he’d need one of those.

Blinking for a moment, Dazai almost went into autopilot.

This would be different.

Everything Dazai did was deliberate. The only thing that could either act exactly according to his plan or be entirely unpredictable comes in the form of a small, small, horribly dressed, fancy street magician with a choker, that is currently walking, very loudly down the Port Mafia’s basement stairs. 

And oh, did Dazai miss this. 

Sure, during his hiding he may have gone once or twice to look at the slumbering, probably drunk at the time, man in front of him. But seeing Chuuya Nakahara subdued by slumber is like missing the Sun behind dark thick clouds. 

Chuuya spoke and he answered on instinct mostly. A knife at his throat and Dazai Osamu hadn’t felt alive in years with no contact from blue hues. 

A punch, a kick, the ground crumbled beneath his feet, Dazai didn’t care he was just about ready to kneel at this point. 

A sharp movement from the man in front of him made him pause. That was as much as a question, statement and reminder Chuuya would give him. This was Port Mafia territory, the hand holding the deck here was Mori.

They snapped back into their roles quickly, but he just couldn’t resist making that joke.

And if he saw Chuuya smile while climbing the stairs he can’t say, because for the first time in 4 years Dazai Osamu laughed and his heart started beating again.

Contrary to popular belief, Dazai didn't mind kids. In fact they always seemed increasingly intrigued by his presence. Odasaku’s orphans seemed absolutely delighted when he showed up.

Yumeno Kyusaku, better known as ‘Q’, was honestly not any different. Dazai had recruited them, finding resemblance to his own situation and past. 

However Q was not Dazai. They were just a kid. A small child with an incredibly dangerous ability and puppeteer, being pulled from one direction to the other only to be returned to a cold, desolate room at the end of the day, alone.

So to be completely honest, he didn't mind this mission. Or at the very least, he didn’t mind this mission’s goal. The variables needed for it to succeed however, were not, as you would say, one of his greater fortés. Technically it was his greatest.

Heavy, determined, meaningful footsteps fell into silence on his left side. A flash of red, contrasted by dark, gloomy clothes, stood beside him, calm.

Who's he kidding? Since when was Chuuya ever quiet, nevertheless calm. Well, towards him anyways.

“Are we just gonna stare at the door and wither away, or should we get a move on already?” Glaring blues had turned toward him. He could always feel their presence.

Dazai had no interest indulging a loud, yapping dog, so with an exaggerated sigh and some kind words exclaimed, that definitely did not have him nearly lose an arm and a leg, they entered the weird cottage-house-situation-thing.

Their steps immediately fall into sync and echo throughout the empty walls, while Dazai's heart sang and asked and wanted. 

4 years of quiet actions and no contact, the yearning reaching every crevice of his mind at every second. One meeting and a truce and comfort had finally arrived at his doorstep, again. 

As he, of course, sidestepped a kick aimed at his head.

Glancing slightly to his side, even the bland stone walls seemed to shine and sparkle. Banter jumped off each stair along with them.

“The only thing I like about you is your taste in shoes.” A slight pause and the other pair of steps stood still for a second.

“You think?” Was said sarcastically with a slight shine of hope hidden underneath it, as if anything would change in these 4 years. 

“Just kidding, of course.” Before even finishing the sentence, a crash and a yell were heard. Giggles collided with the surrounding bricks. 

They were Soukoku after all, they knew each other from the inside out.

Whatever this thing was, it definitely was not human. It didn’t even seem made. Every limb, or more accurately, goo, that was cut off would regenerate in seconds. So while Chuuya was doing his job as the brawn of the duo, Dazai, as the brain, was supposed to be planning ahead.

But he was stuck.

Was this it?

The downfall of the deadliest duo in Yokohama, possibly Japan, and in Dazai’s humble opinion, the World?

Had they changed so much?

He had two constants in life and one had already left him, he couldn’t lose this one.

As if sensing his turmoil, a slight kick to his feet made him blink rapidly. Turning towards the ginger he locked eyes with the annoyed glare decorating his face.

He could practically hear ‘Stop with the theatrics already’ with a small chihuahua animated right beside it.

Before he could get a full sentence out Dazai was slammed vigorously at the trunk of a tree. Vision whitening for a good second, his hearing quickly came back to the rushing footsteps and dare he say, panicked voice of Chuuya.

Coughing blood he slowly tried to rise up. “Those tentacles sure are strange.” Confusion showed itself on the shorter man’s face. “I can't disable them.”

“Bullshit. Is that even possible?” brows lifting upwards, Dazai could see Chuuya trying to grasp the situation.

The thing that works about Sokouku isn’t just the cards up their sleeves, Dazai’s capabilities and Chuuya’s prowess. No, it's more of this. Of looks being exchanged, the air between them still, no words to break it. It's this weird connection, that no matter how many times Dazai tried to replicate, run away from or find, it would lead back to a penthouse and blood money and his first reason to live.

Grinning in a way he hasn’t in a long time, Dazai could feel the adrenaline building up. “All right. Let’s do things the old way.”

Letting his eyes wonder about on the other man’s features, always searching, he asks. “How about Operation Shame and Toad?” A miniscule movement of the redhead’s left brow already had given his answer.

“What is this, Rain beyond the Window?” Chuuya put his hand on his hips, slightly leaning on one side. ”It’s more like The Lie of the Fake Flowers.”

Fond delight brewed in his chest, leaking when he could finally say the others name face to face after such a long time. “Chuuya, when have my tactics ever been wrong?

The fight went on for about 3 minutes and 49 seconds. A monster arose and so did a choice.

Whenever you ask that of me, it’s never really a choice.

Dazai watched with a bated breath as the other half of Double Black slowly slid down his gloves, letting them fall on the ground below. 

He thinks that if Chuuya had at least hesitated, let himself have a moment, Dazai would be just a normal man with a normal reaction. 

4 years later and his partner’s blind trust towards him managed to sever his eyes and clutch his heart. He’d never manage to replicate the pure exhilarated feeling he gets near the man he's known since he was 15. 

As lines fell from soft lips, red markings started traveling up Chuuya’s face. 

O’ granters of dark disgrace,

need not wake me again

It seems that alongside Dazai, a god was awaiting for the same thing.

When Corruption was first triggered, they were dead men on a mission to the underworld. Two fifteen year olds with too much power and responsibility over their shoulder, in their hands, dripping over their head, falling down the tiles of the Port Mafia territory. They’d shaken hands with Death so many times already, ready to surrender to its clutches. But if there was one thing— one person who always seemed to look at Death in the eye and crumble its skull into pieces, it would be Chuuya.

It was beautiful.

The air around it came to a stop as if the man, the god, before him could change the direction of that and more with a flick of his wrist.

Destruction reigned a victor in the remains of anyone or anything that could gather the courage to go against it, most of them being oblivious men in insignificant organizations. Ignorance truly is bliss.

Blood dripped down onto the ground staining it, feeding it.

Mortality looked beautiful on Chuuya.

And it danced in between Dazai’s ropes of bandages.

Nakahara Chuuya was a phenomenon a normal man would witness once in his life before succumbing to death, and Dazai Osamu was blessed to have him on the tips of his fingers and in the depths of his withering soul.

Touching the floating man’s wrist shortly thereafter silenced the god, trapping it in its cage of human ribs and indomitable spirit.

Looking down at the man on his lap, Dazai allowed himself a moment of want, tracing down the nose bridge. It was honestly unfair, the lab didn’t have to make him pretty.

Slowly folding Chuuya’s coat and finding his stupid hat was slightly harder considering the state of the environment around them, but he managed as always. 

Now came the hard part. Throughout their time as a duo, any time Corruption was activated, Dazai had two jobs.

Save Chuuya and bring him home safely.

However after his defection from the Mafia, he couldn’t exactly do that, as it would be considered kidnapping.  

But he could wait a little bit more. Until he would hear Hirotsu’s men running towards the designated coordinates. 

So he let himself have this and if you asked him after two bottles of Sake and a night of no sleep, Dazai Osamu might admit that he missed Nakahara Chuuya.

One last stroke of his fingers on the other’s eyelids, feeling his long eyelashes beneath his fingertips and promises whispered in quiet ears, and Dazai left the forest.

He never made promises, they required you to stay alive.

But it seems he can’t seem to stop making them when a certain man slumbers rent free in his troubled mind. Strong and untouchable even amidst the chaos in his brain.

Dead Apple, the ADA, Fyodor, Shibusawa, Corruption.

Chuuya.

Chuuya.

Chuuya.

When was it ever not Chuuya?

A sharp pain flooded his senses, making Dazai cough the blood out of his mouth and open his eyes. A smile immediately followed. The view before him could rival centuries of human art.

‘You used Corruption, believing in me?

How beautiful.’

To anyone else, it would be insanity. 

Gigantic ability merging dragon shows up and renders every human with gifts useless. People flee and fight and die. 

In their case, Dazai sends a message and Chuuya, as always, understands.

No matter the encryption or the complexity of it, the choice was sent and explained and was always followed through.

Because who else would put the lives of a country on past intertwined hands and shared breaths?

Who else would see the afterlife and jump at it in pure trust that it would be fleeting?

Who else but Dazai and Chuuya.

Chuuya and Dazai.

Soukoku.

Double Black.

Scariest and strongest duo in Yokohama and possibly more.

One soul, two bodies.

One human, one not.

Depending on who you ask about it, they'd have conflicting answers, but in the end, it never mattered.

Brushing away the red locks from Chuuya’s face, Dazai looked at the sky and smiled.

The galloping of horses’ heels chips away at Dazai Osamu’s thoughts. The Decay of Angels with Fyodor at its head will always be a danger. To be fair to the demon, everything with him in the center of it would always be a danger to itself and others. 

After the Sacramental Bow Award was given to the agency, the greatest work they had had was 

Mushitarou Oguri and his Perfect Murder ability. The case had stumped Ranpo, even if it was for about 2 minutes, and had proven itself a challenge and an award. However the last words that Mushitarou guy said, more accurately screamed, at them had been ringing in Dazai’s and Ranpo’s heads.

‘The Detective Agency is about to get a huge job offer! Don’t accept it! If you do, it’ll be the end of the Agency! You hear me? Don’t you dare accept—’

A man had fallen into step next to him, watching the race. Dazai particularly hates small talk but he’d learned to act a long time ago. 

Not just that but something was off.

In the blink of an eye and a twitch of a smile,

‘You won’t have tomorrow, former Port Mafia Executive, Dazai Osamu.’

Meursault Prison opened its doors and the Detective Agency plunged to its doom.

The Agency was framed and named a terrorist organization. That wasn’t the worst of it either, from what Ango had informed him, the world had seen the whole thing. On live television.

They had seen the execution of more than 10 political figures, their bodies cut right in half. A rising reputation had changed at the drop of a hat. 

Sighing deeply, he couldn’t help but think that he still had it worse than the others. Turning his head towards his left, he locked eyes with the thing across his cell. Fyodor Dostoevsky stood there, a permanent, horrendous smile on his disgusting face.

Honestly, he couldn’t wait for Chuuya.

Dazai’s big secret to communicating with the outside world was, ironically, his heart. His immediate point of contact was , as always, Ango Sakaguchi. 

When he was 15, one bright, sunny day, Dazai was bored. When tinkering around Mori’s office and bothering said man, did not bring him any more joy, he let himself bend over one of the many tables filled with medicine. Purple orbs flickered towards him for a moment, before a small, in Dazai’s opinion and many others, repulsing, smile showed on the face of its beholder.

Morse code was old news and bored thoughts to Dazai, but a new option was introduced.

With this in mind, when the vampire outbreak broke, Dazai was one of the first people to find out. 

Leaning on the small table, blinking, can only do so much for a grown man. “Maybe it’s time to do the thing.”

“The thing?” The thump of the book closing would’ve echoed if they weren’t in an ability protected prison.

Before Dazai could fully explain his, obviously, genius plan, the ground opened and swallowed him whole.

Literally.

Breathe in, breathe out, expand, contract, pump. Silence is noisy, until your vision sees bright flashing lights and your ears hear loud, blaring alarms.

Warning! Warning!

Intruder in the Level One Delivery Bay!

Anti-Gifted Fast Response Squad Hecatoncheires has been eliminated!

Neither the poison in his blood, nor the commotion on the outside managed to increase Dazai’s beats per minute. 

The shaking of the building and Fyodor’s smile didn’t manage to either. 

The sight of bright red locks did.

An angel whispered in my ear.

‘Chuuya, it looks like this is goodbye.’

As if. If that ever happened, they’d both be gone. 

‘It’s a shame it had to happen this way.’

It’ll never happen like this. Not on his watch.

‘It’s been seven years since we met. ‘

Feels like forever. It’ll always feel like that when Dazai started living on that very same day they met.

‘We never did get along, did we?’

Bullshit and they both know it.

‘But, come to think of it now, there were times where we understood each other.’

Every day, every hour, minute, second. Dazai’s lungs breathed the same air as Chuuya's on the chance that he could always be engulfed by his presence.

‘Sorry, I couldn’t think of anything Anyway… Goodbye!’

It was getting a bit too gay anyways. Even by his own standards.

Breaking bones hurt. Walking hurt. A bullet in your shoulder hurt.

Everything hurt. Dazai hates pain.

The tapping of fancy dress shoes were not lost in his delayed, post-blood lost brain.

A sigh slipped out before he managed to catch it, but if Dazai was one thing, he was but a yapper at heart.

This has to finish soon anyway, that horrid misty red did nothing to Chuuya’s composition. 

Blue was nice, he missed blue.

A bang ricocheted off the prison walls and Dazai’s head fell.

Power of friendship his ass. It was more on the realm of homosexuality.

From then on things happened slightly in a blur. Sigma was still asleep, Fyodor was a fresh smoothie, Gogol, or whatever his name was, was gay, he guessed.

And Chuuya was fine. He had taken off those horrendous contact lenses and was currently trying to pull out the fake teeth Dazai gave him.

Should’ve known better than to use the glue in the box, as it was insanely easy to exchange for a stronger, not water soluble glue.

But now Dazai was tired. So, so tired. So he let himself be caught by unrelenting, familiar arms and he closed his eyes.

Life is finicky. Evasive. Confusing. A fluke. Something, created from nearly nothing, by pure chance. It’s involuntary.

Life is important, according to every living being. 

We enter this world unwillingly, yet we fight so hard for it.

And at the end of it all, you die and everything is forgotten. You are a machine run by tubes and liquid that shuts off and that is it.

But is it really that easy?

Human beings' evolution stemmed from the ability to be conscious and aware of the fact that they are alive. Because in reality we are not just a machine run by tubes and liquids. We feel too much and think too little and live too hard.

We fight for survival to the point where we start thinking, is it worth it?

But normal people don’t think like this. Normal people don’t stare at their ceiling willing themselves to drink water or eat food. Normal people don’t burn when others touch them. They don’t numb when their surroundings become too much. They don’t hate. 

They care and they love and they find meanings in everything.

And so does Dazai.

It took him a bit. It took him actually trying to see, that he does.

Why can’t he just be normal and meaningless and random and flitting and living and dead? 

But he is. Isn’t he?

Why can’t he be human?

What is he?

What else can a creature with this much awareness, curiosity and confusion be?

Nothing really changed, not really. He just gained experience. And lost some.

Walking turned out to be harder than you remembered when one of your legs is utterly fucked. 

Left.

Right. 

Left.

Right. 

Slip.

Hold.

Or at least try to. Close your eyes, brace for impact. A well-oiled machine of repetition. 

He’s used to that, after all the human body learns ways to cope everyday.

Before Dazai’s face kissed the broken tiles of the prison, he was…..floating?

A singular brown orb slowly opened taking in the environment around him. His head felt fuzzy.

Gray tiles turned to smithereens contrasted expensive inky shoes. Following the line of, admittedly, short legs, the puke green jacket emerged forth an expression of disgust on his own face. It reminded him of stupid, white fluffy animals and bloody betrayals. 

Before he managed to follow the tendril of red laying on a shoulder, a black glove shoved itself on his face. On instinct he opened his left eye and followed the trailing finger currently smoothing the space between his eyebrows.

“You look incredibly stupid right now.” Snapping his eyes to the source of the voice Dazai blinked.

When no answer was exclaimed, a tilt of the head was translated and understood by both parties. Chuuya let him take it in for a bit, as he was now stupidly aware of everything. Almost as if he knew it before Dazai’s own body, the gloved hand pressed itself again. 

A scarlet eyebrow arose and Dazai blinked in approval. The hand previously holding his expressions hostage snapped. Ow echoed through the prison walls, a pout quickly forming.

Rolling his eyes, Chuuya quickly, almost instinctively started pulling him on his back. “Oh shut up, you big baby.”

“But Chuuya, you would dare hurt an injured hero!”

Blah, blah, blah.

Dazai couldn’t tell what that conversation was for the life of him but he doesn’t need to, not with Chuuya. On his best attempt to be conspicuous he put his face on the shorter man’s junction between his shoulder and neck, and slowly rubbed against it, a small smile emerging. Somehow even though the ginger went through each horrendous trial that he did, he could smell the insanely expensive products he used on his hair. Closing his eyes Dazai felt the rhythmic sound of each step, allowing himself to be safe in the only place he’s ever been. Before succumbing to slumber he felt a reassuring squeeze on his thighs.

And if another pair of lips stretched to accommodate a small smile in return, that was only for Chuuya to know.

Let’s go home.

The sun stretched languidly, filtering itself through the curtains of a penthouse. Its walls built on blood money and memories and two people, awake, aware and human.

Tangled limbs transacted warmth as Dazai felt his awaken. Arms coiled around his head blocking any sound the city could make, while fingers thread through his hair. If he closed his eyes now, he’d just fall back asleep. Clenching his own arms reminded him of the human shaped lump engrained on his person. Small puffs of breath slightly hit his head from above. His head was so quiet. His heart calm. This time Dazai didn't burn.

A small pull on his hair made him turn to one side, letting himself gaze at the view before him. It was truly unfair that something so small could be this pretty. 

Almost as if sensing his train of thought, another slightly stronger pull tugged his head back.  He let himself be the picture of innocence, all big honeyed eyes and pouting lips. His own mirrored blues squinted slightly and the man under him scoffed. 

The next time safe hands touched him, they pulled him towards warm skies and melted ice. Softened lips met his chapped ones and they lingered there for a while. The time for frantic breaths and sharpened moves passed when they were young and fearful, and may return in scattered forms in the future, but not today.

Angled forms and the slide of lips and shared sighs were a dance form they’d perfected the second they locked eyes. A hand pulled on Dazai’s neck and he let go.

If there was one thing he knew, it was that there was one absolute in this universe. One absolute that transcended human perception of science and the world.

Where there was Chuuya there’d be Dazai.

Where there was a Dazai there’d be Chuuya.

And so, the clouds glide, the winds hollow, flowers awaken and sleep, opening their petals, and people go about their day, exchanging words for carbon dioxide and laughs for oxygen.

And so, two human beings entangle through the most intimate ways human beings can. Existing next to each other through memories and unknown futures.

One coin, two sides. 

One soul, two people.

A house merged with safety and turned into a home. A home moved and grew legs and a heart and a brain and red locks and cobalt eyes and strong arms and Dazai walked in and never left.

Odasaku would be proud.

Odasaku is proud.

-End-

I will be writing my analysis on some of the things that may be confusing:

Any time Dazai's eyes are mentioned as singular or plural is deliberate. I am referencing his time in the mafia and his obscured view of the world.

Any repetition of sentences or paragraphs is also deliberate an example being Odasaku's description and most importantly, the beginning and the ending of the fic.

I have not yet read Stormbringer, however I have severely spoiled myself. That is why I only briefly caught onto its story and focused more on its consequences.

‘Finding Chuuya is always easy. If you head towards whatever is making the loudest noise, he’ll be there.’ is a quote Dazai used in the light novels.

Promises are extremely important as it shows Dazai on the cusp of finding a reason to live.

In the prison Dazai communicated with morse code by controlling his heartbeat.

When walking in the prison I wrote Slip after he took his right step and his next step would've been his left, which was broken.

Dazai's unknown origins have convinced me that he at the very least was abused by Mori, if not his parents. When I write 'Close your eyes, brace for impact. A well-oiled machine of repetition. He’s used to that, after all the human body learns ways to cope everyday.', I mean it as him flinching and expecting the pain.

Stupid white animals and bloody betrayals means The Sheep, as Chuuya's jacket when he showed up in the prison was nearly identical to the one where he was 15.

It was not my intention to insinuate sex at the end but I don't see why it can't be, so when I say entangelment of limb in the most intimate way humans can, it is up to you to decide.

The end is closure on Dazai's end with Odasaku, but if you want and believe so also Odasaku's spirit.

The title 'The Sunset clashes on waves of Cobalt' Is just Chuuya. His hair clashing with his eyes. Blue is also Dazai's color.

Soukoku have unironically probably kept me alive in certain moments, so I've always wanted to write for them, however I needed it to be at least good. Hopefully this is that.

As for my other fic about them, I am planning on rewriting it as it's honestly so, in kinder words, satisfactory to the way I write now.

Thank you so much for reading! It would mean a lot if I managed to get some reposts, comments or likes!

If you like this, I have written more stories that can be found on my main masterlist. Including: Soukoku, Moon knight, Formula 1 Lestappen, Landoscar with more to come. If it manages to spark your interest, please go support those as well!

[hauntedppgpaints]

Warden's big fic rec list!

Hey y'all. I was inspired by @simmyfrobby to type up a fic rec, so here we are! These are the fics I have bookmarked on AO3, organized and summarized for everyone. Enjoy! :)

Fics with the rarest pairings (only ones in the relationship tag!):

drivin' nowhere fast. (7810 words) by draisaitleons Rating: Explicit Relationships: Linus Ullmark/Matthew Tkachuk Summary: “Hey, I just wanted to say thank you. For earlier.” Linus looks quizzically at Matthew, clearly unsure of what he means and unaware that he was there until he had spoken. That was going to make this a little more painful than Matthew had been hoping for. “For, you know, protecting my head. On the way down.” Matthew clears his throat, “At the net.”

go ahead and try a little crazy on me (4062 words) by lagerlout Rating: Explicit Relationships: Leon Draisaitl/Artūrs Šilovs Additional Tags: Winner's Room Summary: Leon huffs out a laugh before he can help himself. Goddamn, this fucking goalie is cute. He doesn’t know if he’s trying to be cute but he is.

leave an imprint (on my skin) (2733 words) by cokehead_zeroed Rating: Explicit Relationships: Brad Marchand/Mitch Marner Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Knotting, Daddy Kink, Feminization Summary: Mitch does not think that this is what Cooper and Cassidy meant when they said that Team Canada should focus on finding compatibility. Instead of being able to focus on passes and shots, Mitch has found himself perpetually sniffing the air, trying to isolate this one alpha’s scent out of the two dozen ones that are present. Mitch catches sea air, pine, something like brown sugar; the smell of it is electric and intoxicating, and it’s throwing him completely off his game. It’s made even worse by the fact that their lines aren’t gelling, and he’s not sure how much of it is dealing with players and systems and line changes and how much of it is the fact that he just wants to spend the whole Olympics following this scent around.

écoutez-moi (14483 words) by hyacinthed Rating: Explicit Relationships: Mason Marchment/Morgan Rielly Summary: He stares blankly at Madison, 27, who enjoys white wine and pilates and the Blue Jays, staring until his screen shuts off and he’s left with his face reflected in the smudged glass. Things shouldn’t be this hard. Like, logically, people have been figuring out how to get laid for centuries, unaware that the Earth is round but still knowing how to get some, and now it’s 2022 and they’ve moved beyond sundials and Mason’s still scratching his head like a caveman. (Or, the one where Tinder's serving up inter-conference rivals and Mason just can't stay away.)

Fics with rare pairs (less than 20 fics in their tag):

young and new-made green (8750 words) by chevalric Rating: Explicit Relationships: Joel Farabee/Scott Laughton/Michael Raffl Additional Tags: Weird Biology, Non-Human Genitalia, Philadelphia Flyers, Dubious Frog Biology Summary: Joel is fucked, basically. As fucked as it’s possible for a frog to be, and that’s pretty frogging fucked.

Pregame Routine (4406 words) by inlovewithnight Rating: Explicit Relationships: Braden Holtby/Tom Wilson Summary: Tom's going to take care of Holts, going into game five.

Plus Minus (4784 words) by barefootstarz Rating: Teen Relationships: Sean Couturier/Evgeni Malkin Summary: This is most definitely not Romeo and Juliet, despite Sid and Claude's every effort. What it is, is two guys. That's all. Just two guys, a couple of dates, and a new relationship.

Gen fics

Problem Child (8184 words) by aleksrothis Rating: General Audiences Characters: Tyler Seguin, Tuukka Rask, Additional Tags: Age Regression/De-Aging Summary: Tyler knows weird shit happens in hockey, okay, so he shouldn't have been surprised when he opened his hotel room door to find Looch standing there with a screaming child in his arms. “He can be your problem now,” Looch tells him, holding the child out to him. “I need a drink.”

Catch and Release (22722 words) by McSpot Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Characters: Mario Ferraro, Braden Holtby, Brenden Dillon, Brent Burns Summary: If a player gets forced onto the opposing team's bench during play, that player officially becomes a member of their team. There's a whole system to catching players, with strategies determining who the prime targets are and the best way to catch them. Nobody expected Mario to be caught.

You Got a Friend in Me (1050 words) by seascribble Rating: General Audiences Characters: Colorado Avalanche Ensemble, Erik Johnson, Nazem Kadri Summary: EJ puts a lot of work into making the new guys feel welcome, especially Naz.

and a little corner for the horror fans:

Past the Threshold (3265 words) by sevenfists Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin Summary: At the other tables, their teammates talked and ate, laughed, rubbed their eyes, yawned, sipped coffee, were alive. Everything was normal. It was a normal morning before practice. Sid was going to dinner with Geno that evening, and after that he’d probably get laid. Tomorrow they’d play the Jets. Everything was fine. “I hate fucking Winnipeg,” Sid said. Geno grinned. “Yes, same.”

A Voice Behind Me Beckons (3342 words) by CaseyJuTardis Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Marc-Andre Fleury, Evgeni Malkin, Sidney Crosby, Kris Letang Additional Tags: Horror, Body Horror, Supernatural Elements, Cannibalism, Psychological Horror Summary: There’s no real way to know when it all started. It was first noticed with Flower, but how far back does it go? How long has this curse been passed from person to person, draining life until all that’s left is the all-consuming hunger? No one knows. This thing- this insidious, cloying curse- is ancient. Ever-present but unseen. Like a disease. Or a predator, lying in wait.

[hatchetsfield-arch]

name: sydney

height: 4’11 and a half …. aND A HAL—

nickname / s: syd, pidge, beans, scout, roo, miss day, girl abed ( & grace, which is used sarcastically 💀 )

nationality: american

favourite fruit: bananas

favourite season: 🍁🍂🎃✨fall✨🎃🍂🍁 same as what my disabilities love making me do oop—

favourite scents: fresh laundry, campfire, old books, pumpkin+cinnamon , watermelon, toasted marshmallows, pine

favourite animals: PIGEONS, cats (ESP black cats), crows, rats, mourning doves & manatees!

tea, coffee, hot cocoa: hot choccy all the way

average hours of sleep: honestly there is no average it varies WILDY, like 5-11 depending on the day being chronically ill is fun

when my blog was created: beware the ides of march

# of followers: 102

random fact: i am a contralto profundo, meaning i have the same vocal range as a male tenor!!! it’s also one of the rarest voice types in the world!

favourite food: mozzarella sticks

favourite t.v. shows: this doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface but the tops are — the nanny, bob’s burgers, schitt’s creek, cunk on earth, fleabag, wynonna earp, dead to me & hot in cleveland!

favourite movie: scream (i was named after sidney prescott, it can’t not be my favorite movie)

sexuality: i like the wine not the label (aka: pansexual)

pronouns : she / her though i maaay or may not be considering going by she / they / he

favourite book series: once a warrior cats kid always a warrior cats kid 🙃

favourite video game/s: ACNH, nintendogs, FNAF, pokemon brilliant diamond & mystery dungeon, deltarune

favourite subject: i can’t pick just one so theatre, english, history & psychology!

guys or girls: gals (& bears)

last time I cried: like a day or two ago haha oops schwoopsie

what I should be doing: writing, sorting out doc appointments, learning more music theory & working in blender3D and resting

favourite fandoms: i gotta be honest fandoms shiver my timbers

tagged: kels!!! <3

tagging: @honeyedxhearts , @shadowedvales , @wwgcd , @witchwings , @nuks , @aur0ras , @daemondaes & you!!

[yourfellowhuman07]

I HAVE A BUSINESS PROPOSAL! AKA a fanfic idea.

Please think about this.

An AU where Prime doesn't exist.

Therefore, the clone's original culture and species are still preserved, and Etheria is also a part of the wider galaxy. Also, Hordak is alive, because I can. PLEASE READ THE STUFF BELOW THE POLL BEFORE DECIDING!

The general plot would be this:

After spending years trying to peacefully convince the Eternians Etheria should be its own planet separate from the greater Eternian empire, the Alliance finally decides that fighting them is the only way out of their oppression. However, their armies are a speck of dust in comparison to Eternia's forces. Out of options, they ask the help of the *insert name here* empire's help in hopes they aid them in their freedom. Teaming up with the crown prince's army, the Alliance must face down against the Eternian army and their greatest warrior: She-Ra.

More stuff about the fic:

The culture is rich in magic (a juxtaposition to Horde Prime's views). Magic is very sacred, connected to nature, and is an integral part of their lives. Everyone possesses different skills in magic. Some can terraform the earth, and others can manipulate the wind. The rarest of all is the ability to directly manipulate the magic itself without having to channel it through anything. These wielders often become priests or advisors. Another form of magic is when you take the magic out of something to use for your own benefit. It's not forbidden, just not recommended, because taking the magic/ life from something takes life away from the wielder. AKA shortening their lifespan. This form is only really used in an emergency or when you REALLY want to curse someone.

Also, since the horde was never an issue, Etheia was just a colony. Therefore, Adora was raised knowing she is an Ethernian and She-Ra. She also has a pixie cut because I said so.

Now what about Hordak? In this fic, he is the prince who is destined to take the throne once his father dies. In the meantime, he resides in the army as their general. He still has an overall grumpy personality and a lack of social skills after spending ten years in the military. His abilities are in weather manipulation, along with the ability to wield all the components (lightning, wind, mist, clouds, etc.); furthermore, he has the ability to turn into lighting, which he uses for fast travel or a speedy getaway. He is also an uncle to his twin sister's kids (who he has a soft spot for). Also, he still has his eyeliner (it's a canon event). Also, there is Entrapdak (how could I not include my otp?).

My only problem is I have no inspiration for names. I have no idea what to name the empire or what to name most of the characters. If you have name suggestions, please drop them in a comment or a tag.

Thank you for your consideration.

[olievu]

nightmares & refuge - 2

SPECIES GUIDE

this post contains information on the various breeds of vampires. it is color coded as follows:

carnivorous

herbivorous

omnivorous

WARNING!

this post and all posts bearing the nightmares & refuge name and tag will MOST LIKELY contain blood and violence! if that is something that bothers you, please scroll on!

this post contains NO spoilers!

Vespira

Herbivorous breed.

Common breed, the gene is NOT recessive. All children of Vespira will be born vampires regardless of the other parent's species.

Tridacna

Omnivorous breed.

This breed tends to keep pure bloodlines in order to retain their status. Yes, this means inbreeding has happened and could still BE happening. We try not to acknowledge this.

Most Tridacna are males. This is simply an updated statistic, gender numbers fluctuate.

NOT immortal.

Caridea

Carnivorous breed.

Cross between Vespira and Tridacna, this breed is very rare. No vampire is born a Caridea. They must be born fully human and carry the Tridacna gene. Their parents must also both be fully human with the gene.

These vampires tend to have trouble reproducing due to a chemical imbalance caused by the venom used to turn them reacting with the Tridacna gene.

Known for EXTREMELY sharp fangs.

Cuon

Carnivorous breed.

This breed of vampire is exceptionally rare. Born of two Caridea vampires, they tend to die shortly after birth. Complications caused by the Caridea gene as well as the Vespira gene usually set the children up for failure, assuming their parents are able to conceive.

Eleadora

Herbivorous breed.

Strictly females.

The Eleadora gene mutated from the Vespira gene, and can skip up to ten generations. This makes them THE rarest female breed.

Statistically, most Eleadora vampires are Lesbian or a part of the LGBTQIA+ community in some way.

Loxodonta

Omnivorous breed.

Offspring of a Cuon and an Eleadora.

The rarest LIVING breed. These vampires have beat the odds.

Irisia

Carnivorous breed.

Ancestor of the Tridacna.

Extinct since 78 BC.

Referred to as 'The Titans,' these vampires ruled the earth in their time.

[lady-wallace]

Even the Strongest: Whumptober Day 13 (Jujutsu Kaisen)

Gojo whump for today’s @whumptober prompt! And tired Nanami having to come to his rescue.

Prompt: Can’t Make an Omelet (fracture, ‘are you here to break me out?’)

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Character: Gojo

~~~~~~~

Read on Ao3

Read on FF.net

Masterpost

~~~~~~~

Gojo Satoru was a pain in his ass. Well, to be fair, Nanami wasn't alone in thinking that. Gojo Satoru was a pain in everyone's ass, which, coincidentally, was what made him a useful asset because that sentiment also extended to Curses and enemy sorcerers.

It was also what made it genuinely worrying when Gojo seemed to drop off the face of the earth.

It wasn't like Gojo was exactly good at telling anyone what he was doing, but when he had specifically been sent to look into an anti-Curse using group of sorcerers that had cropped up then one had to wonder. Nanami remembered what happened when he had fought Toji Fushiguro back when they were students—back before everything had gone to hell. What non-Curse users lacked in special ability, they made up for in arcane knowledge that was often extremely dangerous to both Curses and Curse Users alike. Not to mention their tendency to be able to collect the rarest weapons and talismans.

So, yes, as much as it irked Nanami to have to run off and fetch Gojo from his mission, he could understand the school's urgency when they had called him in.

He thought it had been a completely pointless venture by the time he got there and found the anti-Curse user's hub pretty destroyed. Looked like Gojo's work.

Nanami sighed and pulled out his phone, trying to call the other sorcerer again. Just like last time, there was the message that the number had been disconnected.

Nanami pressed his lips together and looked around some more.

There were actually traces of Cursed energy, probably remains from whatever fight must have ensued, so it seemed like Gojo had at least been there.

The question was, where was he now?

As Nanami searched the abandoned building, he began to pick up more traces of Curse energy. Weak, but there all the same. Nanami ventured further until he got to the part of the building that had taken the heaviest destruction.

The odd thing was that here there was no large traces of Cursed energy like there usually was after Gojo got done with a mission. In fact…

Nanami bent down to retrieve a grenade pin. There was a small warding tag taped onto the ring. Odd, he thought. Were these anti-Curse weapons?

The traces of energy were all but gone here, and Nanami was about to turn away when he came across something else in the rubble.

He bent to pick that up as well, dusting it off.

A black blindfold.

Nanami sighed, taking another look around. Where the hell could that idiot have gotten to? He found it hard to believe Gojo Satoru was actually dead. Even special grade Curses couldn't take him out.

He scuffed some gravel with his shoe and some of it trickled down a crack that was covered with a fallen support beam. Nanami frowned. Was there another level below this?

He pulled out his blade, picking a spot, and made short work of the rubble. He watched it crumble into the space below and then jumped down after it to look around.

He didn't get far before he heard a weak cough in the settling dust.

"Hey," the voice said. "You here to break me out?"

Nanami turned and saw a figure lying a little bit away, half buried under more rubble. Nanami quickly pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight, holding it over the figure.

Gojo cringed away from the light, turning his head away. He looked…rough. An odd look on the untouchable Gojo Satoru. Face bruised, legs worryingly trapped beneath a pile of rubble. His upper body was bound by several straps with anti-Curse talismans carved into them. The kind that deactivated curse energy. Obviously the reason Gojo was currently trapped under concrete instead of being able to repel it with his Infinity.

"What the hell happened?" Nanami asked.

Gojo winced as he looked up at him, white hair matted with blood from an injury to his forehead. It seemed to make his unnervingly bright eyes even brighter. "Maybe I got a little cocky. They didn't like that much, so they neutralized my powers and tried to bury me alive—can you believe it? What assholes."

Nanami sighed, finding a spot to set his phone so they could have light. "Are you injured?"

Gojo grinned. "Aww, Nanami, sweet of you to care." He huffed and shifted with a wince. "Leg hurts pretty bad, honestly. Can you…maybe get me out of here?"

The strain in his voice told Nanami exactly how bad it was. Gojo wasn't used to hurting. He didn't so much have a high tolerance for pain as he just wasn't used to what it felt like.

"Hold on, I need to figure out the best way to do this without crushing you completely."

Gojo grunted and Nanami inspected the fallen rubble. There was one particular piece of concrete that was crushing Gojo's left leg, but that seemed to be the only one actually making contact. The rest seemed to have been stopped by a beam that had wedged itself sideways.

"How's it look?" Gojo asked.

Nanami didn't reply, intently studying the area, looking for the best place to strike and not have everything crush Gojo further. Honestly it would have been a lot easier to have another pair of hands, but there had been no one else available. It had been a rough month.

"Just stay still," Nanami said.

Gojo sighed and thunked his head back on the ground. "Not going anywhere."

Nanami pressed his lips into a tight line as he pulled out his blade. He targeted the spot and swung.

Debris crumbled harmlessly around, freeing Gojo's leg.

"Hey, thank—"

Before Gojo could finish, Nanami hurried to grab his shoulders and yank him away as the rest of the rubble came crumbling down. Gojo gave a surprised shout of pain, which turned into a cough as more dust flew through the air. Nanami waved it away as it settled, then stowed his blade and crouched next to Gojo.

"Get these off me," the injured man gasped, straining his arms against the straps binding him. Nanami saw for the first time that they had secured a sort of harness around his torso, binding arms and wrists alike tightly together behind his back in a way that would make it impossible to move.

"These can keep you from using your power?" Nanami asked curiously.

Gojo huffed. "Don't get any ideas. They're not fun, I promise."

Nanami sighed and started to unbuckle the straps, loosening Gojo's limbs. When he pulled them free, Gojo heaved a deep breath of relief, before he slammed his eyes shut and pushed a hand against his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Are you all right?" Nanami asked him cautiously.

"Mm," Gojo muttered. "My Six Eyes is coming back. It's kind of a trip when you've had it off for a while."

Nanami turned to his leg, and didn't like what he saw. It was definitely twisted at an odd angle, and there was some blood as well. Undoubtedly a compound fracture then. Nanami sighed wearily and stood. "We need to splint this."

Gojo seemed to realize his situation and finally looked down at his own leg, paling further, looking like he might actually be sick this time.

Nanami found some wood among the debris and started to unwrap his blade so that he could use the material for the splint.

"H-hey, looks like you might have to carry me out of here," Gojo muttered.

Nanami knelt and suddenly grabbed hold of his foot, squeezing through his shoe.

Gojo cried out. "God, Nanami! What the hell?"

"Good. You still have feeling in your foot, that means no nerve damage."

Gojo took a shuddering breath and forced himself up onto his elbows. "Yeah, well, it didn't hurt nearly so much until you started messing with it."

"Well, it's just going to get worse," Nanami told him blandly as he set the split materials aside and took a careful hold on Gojo's leg before ripping his pants up to the knee to better see what he was doing.

"Geez, buy me dinner first, Nanami," Gojo quipped woozily as he looked down at his leg. "Hey…that's not right is it?"

"No, it's not," Nanami informed him before grabbing the straps he had taken from Gojo earlier, handing them to him. "You might want to bite down on this."

Gojo stared at him. "You're not actually…"

"There's no point in splinting it crooked. I would suggest not wasting any more time arguing."

Gojo silently took the straps and folded them over, putting them between his teeth, laying back flat.

Nanami didn't make him wait. He prodded the injury briefly as Gojo made muffled protests, then efficiently moved onto resetting the leg.

The almost inhuman shriek from Gojo pierced his ears and he found he couldn't touch the other sorcerer again. Gojo must have activated Infinity in self-defense.

Nanami did actually feel bad for the man as he lay there panting, dust from the room sticking to the sweat on his forehead. He was staring straight up, fists clenched, fingernails digging into the ground, the straps still clenched in his teeth.

"Gojo," Nanami said after a moment. "I can't splint this if you won't let me touch you."

Gojo's eyes met his, wide and swimming with pain. Nanami had never seen him like this before and it did something to him. There was something unnerving about seeing this extremely powerful, cocky, man laid so low.

"The worst is over now," Nanami added, trying to do what he could to calm Gojo.

It was a long moment before Gojo seemed to relax, or rather run out of the little energy he had left. He slumped back onto the floor again, eyes sliding shut and the Infinity fell away, allowing Nanami to touch him again.

He quickly applied the splint as Gojo let out soft gasps and moans of pain, then sat back.

"Alright, let's find the way out of here. There's a staircase that doesn't look like it's blocked. Think you can stand?"

Gojo stared up at him balefully. Nanami sighed and reached down, first helping Gojo sit up and then putting one of his arms over his shoulders and getting a firm grip around his waist.

"Just keep your leg straight, I'm going to lift you in three. One…two…"

Nanami heaved Gojo upright and the man let out another cry, staggering on his one good leg as he leaned heavily on Nanami. Nanami had to adjust for the added weight, but steadied Gojo enough for him to stay upright without putting any weight on his injured leg.

Gojo clung to him tightly, panting, sweat actually pouring down his face.

"God, it hurts. Why the hell does it hurt so bad?" Gojo gasped, fingers tight in Nanami's coat, knuckles white. "I can't…it's not healing."

"Don't overexert yourself," Nanami told him. "Shoko will be able to do better than you will."

"You kidding? Her bedside manner's worse than yours," Gojo murmured.

Nanami grunted, getting an even firmer grip on the other man. "Ready?"

Gojo nodded tightly.

Nanami started them on the slow crawl to the stairs. Every hobbling step pulled a sound of pain from Gojo as he leaned more and more heavily against Nanami. But eventually they got there, even though Nanami had to practically carry Gojo up the stairs—and honestly at that point he thought it might have been easier to just throw the other man over his shoulder.

But they got to the top and out of the building. Gojo whimpered in relief as the car came into view.

"Just a little further," Nanami felt the need to reassure as he was supporting at least 99% of Gojo's body weight right now. The man was a lot more solid than he looked.

"Hey," Gojo murmured quietly, sounding exhausted and pretty out of it by this point. "Thanks for coming for me…Nanami." He took a deep breath. "For a while…didn't think I…was gonna…ya know. Ran out of…options."

The honest admission briefly sent Nanami for a loop. He had to double check that the man he was practically carrying was Gojo Satoru. It was so out of the ordinary that he began to feel his chest tighten with an unknown emotion toward Gojo. One he didn't normally reserve for the cocky sorcerer.

Sentiment was too much. But Gojo was his comrade, at most a brother in arms. Did Nanami respect him? No. His ideals were too far from what Nanami's were, and while he could admit that his teaching methods were effective, they left a bitter taste in Nanami's mouth who didn't condone putting students in danger the way Gojo did. The only thing that quelled his vitriol on that matter was the fact that he knew well enough that for all the danger he might throw his students into, Gojo would throw himself at something ten times more dangerous. Alone. Nanami had come to realize it might be more of a disconnect that led Gojo to make the decisions he did, than any inner malice. It would be difficult for someone who was essentially untouchable to comprehend how dangerous certain situations could be—case in point. So no, Nanami didn't necessarily respect Gojo as a man, but he did respect his powers—grudgingly—and how he used them. It would be stupid not to.

But now this admission of honest human weakness…maybe it did cause Nanami to have to admit just a little respect for the man. At the very least, he couldn't bring himself to be annoyed with Gojo at the moment. Though that might also have something to do with the fact that the white-haired man was pretty much passing out on his feet and didn't have the energy to be annoying.

"Did you really think we would leave you there?" Nanami asked him gruffly as they finally got to the car. He opened the passenger door and bent to slide the seat back before helping Gojo sit. "Don't be an idiot."

Gojo gritted his teeth as Nanami lowered him down and laid back gratefully in the seat, closing his eyes as Nanami adjusted his leg, lifting it carefully into the footwell. "No, I knew you'd come," he said, then one eye opened and there was a smirk turning up one corner of his mouth. "Wait till Shoko hears that you were so eager to get to me you started ripping off my clothes—"

Nanami slammed the door on him, feeling that small speck of respect instantly replaced with annoyance again. He grabbed his keys from his pocket as he reached for the driver's side door.

He supposed it was too much to ask that some things could ever change.

~~~~~~~

You can also find me on: Instagram | Twitter | Or buy me a coffee on Ko-fi (I do commissions!)

[onewhoturns]

A-Z game debrief 1/25: Afterparty (2019)

Developed & published by: Night School Studios

"In Afterparty, you are Milo and Lola, recently deceased best buds who suddenly find themselves staring down an eternity in Hell. But there's a loophole: outdrink Satan and he'll grant you re-entry to Earth." Steam tags: Indie, Supernatural, Narrative, Comedy, Adventure, Dark Comedy, Choices Matter, Story Rich, Singleplayer, Atmospheric, 2.5D

Estimated time to 100% (according to hltb): 14hrs How long steam logged me playing to 100%: 15.0 hrs How long I actually spent 100%ing (not just with the game running while I was at work or trying to record stuff): more like 12 hours?

# of achievements I started with: 0/23 # of achievements I ended with:

Rarest achievement (according to steam):

Toughest achievement (according to me):

(That one took me both longer than I expected, and not as long as I expected once I had started. Overall I think it took me something like 10-12 tries, and sitting through the unskippable dialogue for every attempt got tiring, but it did work out in the end.)

Favorite thing about the game: That neon hell ✨aesthetic✨ baybee! And as always with Night School, the voice acting was great, the writing was quirky but delivered very naturally, and the music by SCNTFC was chill.

[all my blog posts about it]

Thoughts after the fact: I pre-ordered this game when it first came out in 2019, but it was released on the epic games store probably a year before dropping on steam, so I'd played parts of this game (there are a couple branching paths and I'd only played one playthrough) before, years ago. I got the game in a fanatical bundle more recently and wanted to do an achievement run eventually, so finally replayed on steam to get the full collection of cheevos.

There were scenes I never played before, and they were a delight! And scenes I remembered from before that were *still* a delight! It also has me tempted to mess with save files and see how all the endings go with different drinking teammates, since the main game I used to collect different endings had more boring teammates than what was possible.

It also made me want to see some poor youtuber make the cocktails from Afterparty, just cause they're so ridiculous.

I feel like the absurdity of it did make the more 'truth in fiction' elements hit weaker than they could've; Milo and Lola both had some internal struggles that are pretty damn valid, but those issues didn't get much breathing room, since we're so busy running around doing Shenanigans™️

Personal rating: 7.5/10

The A game poll results:

[transingthoseformers]

Loyal subscribers! It is I, Lor- Commander Starscream! We are back to our biweekly addition of the Goodies Podcast, filmed from the quarters of yours truly. Let us check on last time's emerald infused crystals.

Hmm... yesss, the gems are looking quite good. *camera pans over to an especially green cluster*

>dashattack070! : //Ooh! Great! Will these be on the shop?//

And yes, @dashattack070!, these will be on the online shop tagged in the description box.

Now, today's recipe once was the rarest of luxuries: potassium tempered silica wafers! One of the few benefits of this pathetically organic planet is an abundance of potassium and silica crystals, known by the fleshies as quartz. *sets a block of elemental potassium, seven quartz crystals can be seen nearby on a sheet*

Now, the tempering is a delicate process, necessitating careful measurements of H2O, yes there's copious amounts of that dreaded compound on this 'Earth'. If you don't watch closely, you will miss the rea- *faint Rock can be heard from the stream, causing Starscream to jerk in place*

>lsk4owo29 : //what's up with the music?//

>fwl-0123 : //I thought SW put an end to that. @lskowo29 the GC will explain.//

@fwl-0123 is correct; I too thought SW had solved that little problem. I would rather not explain the music currently, lest it ruin our appetites. Now, may we return to-

B̸̧̨̨̢̡̛̤̟͙̻̙̲̼̪̲̠̰͙̞͔͖̭̬̙̻̹̞̖̘͙͚͉͉̟͕̲̗̣̮̭̬͎͇͍̙͐̿̈́̃͒͛̄̀̿͛͛͑̈́̉̏͑͗̓͌͆̀̀̾̇̓͂̅͗́̃͐͌͑̽̊̊͆́͛͒͐̇̓̂̏̌̋͛͛̿̀̚͘̕̕̕͘̕͜͝͝͝͝͠ͅͅͅƠ̴̢̞̟͔̲̖̫̼̖̹̰̜̥̖̞͎̖̘̟̭̜͖̟̼̯̣̮̫̯͔̫̝̫̦̲͕͇̰͔̤̪͔̪̥̜̙̣͙̝̯̑̽͑̿̇̎̅̒͌̐̈̋̄́̌̿͛̊̔̒͋̚̚̕͘͜͜͠ͅͅƠ̴̧̢̢̧̟̤̜̪̥͙̙̞͈̪͈͇̭̮̠͈̬̭̗͕͓͉̙̦̘͇̪̞̽̎́͌͂̀̑́͗̐͋̓͆̀̽͆͂͆͆́̐͛̓̊͑͋͌́̋̈̄̈́̅̆̊̓̃̎͊̓̅̏͗͂̇͒̉̈͑͂͂̄͊̉̓́̿͗̂̄̓̔̈̊̈͊̉̚̕̚͝͠ͅͅM̶̢̢̧̡̢̛̛̛̛̪̥̭̝̹̹̜͈̝̖̰̠̱̜͚̰̤̞̙̼̙̝̹̙̺͓̩͚͎̥̙͇̤̬̲͇̬͇̗̩̻̬̪͍̘̜̹͎̫̫̹͕̙̥͓̙̠̘̝͎̭̼̠̘̄̉͛͋̃̒̈́̈́̆͋͂̈́̓́̑̈́̅͌̐̈́́̈́͆̓̆̇̌̋̔̇̀̓̀̌͑̽̎̋͋̏̈́̀̽̇͒̍̈͑̄̀̎́̿͊́̏͐̀͂̀͆̕͘̚̕̚͘͜͜͜͝͠͝͝͝͝ͅ

>fwl-0123 : // Damnnnnnn mech!//

>justalittleguy99 : //The slag was THAT???//

>bigbluebeauty : //Screamer what the fuck was that//

>53an-203 : //had to join stream quick, sttationed in the engine room. We heard that 'cross the ship lol.//

>slenderman3rd : //Starscream: Explain.//

>slenderman3rd : //Starscream: Explain.//

>slenderman3rd : //Starscream: Explain.//

Soundwave! Ah, yes, you do not need to spam the chat; message received. That, viewers, is an example of particularly violent chemistry. The humans consider potassium to be a rather reactive element. I apologize, my servo must have slipped and spilled the water. @therealsoundwave, and no, there is no damage besides of the ego.

*footsteps and a habsuite door can be heard slamming open in the backround* sTARSCREAM WHAT DID YOU DO

And that marks the end of our stream! Remember to like, subscribe, and activate notifications! Remember, if we reach the $50,000 goal on the high command GoFundMe, we can afford to purchase new medical supplies from Swindle! *click*

[ohheyitsjustbear]

Tagged by the sweethearts @missathesiren and @the-rarest-rose for this cute game 🥰 thank you, smoochies 💋

hot shower or cold shower // texting or calling // earbuds or headphones // paperback or hardcover // matte or gel // 12 hour clock or 24 hour clock // blue or green // sunsets or sunrises // tulips or orchids // candle light or moonlight // sci-fi or horror // pen or pencil // pandas or koalas // gold or silver // sneakers or boots // denim jacket or leather jacket // pink or purple // chocolate or sour candy // deodorant or perfumes // drive-in movie theater or the cinema // pastel colors or neutral earth tones // lemonade or fruit juice // past or future //

Tagging @this-blank-canvas @mandalorianmercenary @shadows-chaos-contd @bewitchingbimbo @gloomyraincloud @enviousmoons @ghost-of-luna @pet-me-softly @blueedana @pennedwithpassion and anyone else who wants to join in cos I can't remember everyone's urls 😅

[femslashhistorian]

I posted 2,704 times in 2022

That's 459 more posts than 2021!

53 posts created (2%)

2,651 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@femslashrevolution

@inkedroplets

@fanficmemes

@crazyfanficbish

@fandomkaleidoscope

I tagged 2,656 of my posts in 2022

Only 2% of my posts had no tags

#fan art - 830 posts

#supercorp - 597 posts

#supercorp fic rec - 396 posts

#pitch perfect femslash fic rec - 320 posts

#bechloe - 286 posts

#fanfiction - 286 posts

#fanfic rec - 282 posts

#other femslash fic rec - 136 posts

#korrasami - 132 posts

#supergirl femslash fic rec - 123 posts

Longest Tag: 50 characters

#abigail bellweather x tally craven x raelle collar

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

NCIS: Hawai'i but it’s only Lucy Tara/Kate Whistler (Kacy)

Watched the whole playlist on YouTube and really enjoyed it. They are a cute ship. 

And here is a link to the #Kacy (Kate / Lucy) supercut/playlist:

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL6cOmV2NfEE9nMSP8fFegM0ILG91iPFol

I’ve started to look for fic on AO3 and yay, there is a good amount for a relatively new show/ship.

21 notes - Posted April 24, 2022

#4

Supergirl Femslash Ships & Fics Retrospective 3: Astra/x

Welcome back to the Supergirl (TV 2015) femslash ships & fics retrospective. This is the first part in which we focus on femslash ships of a particular character and a selection of fics and fic recs. In part 3 we focus on Astra In-Ze and her ships. 

Table of contents

a) A quick introduction to Astra

b) Astra's ships overview

c) Alex/Astra fic recs

d) Alex/Astra/Maggie fic recs

e) Astra/Maggie fic recs

Series Overview: Supergirl Femslash Ships & Fics Retrospective

Part 1: Introduction, the TV show [tumblr [WordP]

Part 2a: List of F/F Ships [tumbl] [WordP]

Part 2b: List of Polyamorous Ships [tumbl] [WordP]

Part 3: Astra/x [tumbl] [WordP]

Part 4: Andrea/x [tumbl] [WordPress]  

(links to be added once the parts are done)

a) A quick introduction to Astra

Astra In-Ze was a Kryptonian general, the twin sister of Kara's mother Alura and thus Kara's aunt. She was put in prison for eco terrorism and together with the other inmates of in Fort Rozz was one of the few survivors of Krypton's destruction. As a Kryptonian on Earth she has similar powers and weaknesses as Supergirl.

On the show Astra only appears in season 1, in which the was one of the main antagonists. Astra is an original character created for the show, who did not appear in DC comics before.

Astra was a fascinating character and one of the highlights of season 1. It was sad that Astra never got a redemption arc, but considering the quality of the show's writing, it is hard to imagine that it would have been satisfying anyway. Aw well, this is what fanfiction is for, and there are indeed several fics with redemption arcs for Astra.

--

b) Astra's ships overview

Astra/Alex Danvers (GeneralDanvers)

This was the first pair I shipped in Supergirl and the one that made me fall in love with the show and the fandom.

When I watched the first scene Alex and Astra had together I thought wow, this is kinda gay and a lot of subtest. I wonder if they will ever do anything with it. Of course, they didn't.

But looking at AO3, I realized that I was by far not the only one who saw the potential for this ship. Unsurprising considering the source material, there is a lot of potential for angsty and darker fics, but there are also a few lighter AUs.

Link to AO3 relationship tag: Astra/Alex Danvers

Astra/Alex Danvers/Maggie Sawyer (General Sanvers)

If you shipped Alex/Astra and were open for/to polyamorous relationships, this was the natural progression to combine Astra with Alex's season 2 canon relationship. Not the rarest ship but pretty rare.

Link to AO3 relationship tag: Astra/Alex Danvers/Maggie Sawyer

Astra/Maggie Sawyer

See the full post

22 notes - Posted March 28, 2022

#3

Scrolling Through Lists of Possible Loves by Netgirl_y2k

Summary:  Corporations, rather than kings, make matches.

Great Sansa Stark/Margaery Tyrell (Sansaery) fic

Sansa gets tested on her 18th birthday. She is matched with Margaery but is in denial that she might be gay.

I loved this soulmate take. They don't just meet and fall in love, but eventually there is a happy ending. Highly recommended.

26 notes - Posted June 26, 2022

#2

Supergirl Femslash Ships & Fics Retrospective 4: Andrea/x

In part 4 of the Supergirl (TV 2015) femslash ships & fics retrospective we focus on Andrea Rojas, her femslash ships and a selection of fics and fic recs.

Table of contents

a) A quick introduction to Andrea

b) Andrea's ships overview

c) Lena Luthor/Andrea Rojas fic recs

d) Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor/Andrea Rojas fic recs

e) Kara Danvers/Andrea Rojas fic recs

f) Samantha "Sam" Arias/Andrea Rojas fic recs

g) Samantha "Sam" Arias/Lena Luthor/Andrea Rojas fic recs

Series Overview

Supergirl Femslash Ships & Fics Retrospective

Part 1: Introduction, the TV show [tumbl] [WordP]

Part 2a: List of F/F Ships [tumbl] [WordP]

Part 2b: List of Polyamorous Ships [tumbl] [WordP]

Part 3: Astra/x [tumbl] [WordP]

Part 4: Andrea/x (this part)

...

(links to be added once the parts are done)

a) A quick introduction to Andrea

Andrea Rojas joined Supergirl in Season 5, when (a heartbroken) Lean, who felt betrayed by Kara, sold CatCo Media on to her friend Andrea, who is also the CEO of Obsidian Tech.

Andrea has a secret identity and powers as Acrata and appeared in several DC comics and shows before, but her backstory and character were heavily tweaked for the Supergirl TV show.

To be hones I did not watch enough of Season 5 to really understand the plot and background around Leviathan and the medallion that is linked to Andrea's powers (and from what I have seen of the show this might not have made all that much sense away...) What is important to know (and is often referenced in fic) is that to get the medallion, Andrea needed to betray Lena (and break her heart).

While at first it seemed that Andrea was just another shitty boss for Kara at CatCo, she turned out to be a fascinating character with a lot of shipping potential.

I read somewhere that Andre was so high maintenance that she might as well be a Maserati and obviously this is the car she drives in several of the stories.

--

b) Andrea's ships overview

Lena Luthor/Andrea Rojas (RojasCorp)

In canon Lena and Andrea are former best friends but many fans interpret their history as ex-lovers. Andrea and Lena definitely have history (some of which is explored in the show) and a lot of chemistry. While shipping Andrea with Lena an obvious shipping choice, this is a relatively rare pair, especially considering that there are few long fics and in a large part of the fics in the AO3 ship tag RojasCorp is not the actual or main ship.

Link to AO3 relationship tag: Lena Luthor/Andrea Rojas

See the full post

33 notes - Posted October 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

International Fanworks Day 2022 - Classic Fic Recs

In case you have not seen this.

“On February 13th, 2022, AO3 made a news posts encouraging users to post their recommendations of "classic" fics, while acknowledging the definition of classic may vary from user-to-user. These were the fics recommended that day in the comment section.”

This is an excellent collection on AO3 that includes a many brilliant femslash fics: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/IFDRecs

Many fandoms, including (there are more).

Harry Potter

Marvel Cinematic Universe

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)

Warehouse 13

Pitch Perfect (Movies)

The Owl House (Cartoon)

The Old Guard (Movie 2020)

Supergirl (TV 2015)

Note on the number of works / filters:

There are 74 to 129 F/F fic in the collection.

If you just set the include filter to F/F you get 129, but this includes some fics in which the F/F ship is the background/side ship to a main ship which is M/M or M/F.

If you set the filters to include F/F and exclude M/M and M/F the number is 74 (but this might exclude fics in which the main ship is F/F ...)

This has bigger impact in some fandoms (such as Harry Potter) and less in others.

Here is a link with the filters to get the narrow F/F selection.

64 notes - Posted June 4, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[merryfortune]

she’s not a princess but he’s not the saint king 

Written for the Rarest of Rare Pairs Fic-a-Thon on Dreamwidth

Prompt: Any: Any/Any - first kiss

Title: she’s not a princess but he’s not the saint king 

Ship: Alm/Faye

Fandom: Fire Emblem Shadow of Valentia

Word Count: 1,961

Rating: T

Warning: None

Tags: Post-Canon, Canon Divergent, First Kiss, Established Relationship, Fluff, Past/Referenced Alm/Celica

   Alm’s heart pounded in his chest and he felt his palms sweat.

   Faye leaned in, closed her eyes, and puckered her lips. She looked a little silly - maybe even very silly in Alm’s opinion - but the girl wanted what she wanted, he could respect that. Especially when what she wanted, and was all she wanted and like a marital vow would ever want, was him.

   So he better not disappoint.

   Something hard not to do since he was competing with… himself.

   The better, more heroic and more perfect Alm who only existed in Faye’s imagination. That Alm had no doubt kissed Faye ten thousand times over. On the lips, on her cheek, on her forehead, atop her hands and goodness knows what else. Maybe even down there. 

   How in the world was he meant to compete? 

   Alm felt miserable as all he could imagine was him. Some other him who was burlier and more dashing, perpetually followed by baby birds singing sweetly and who could make flowers bloom with just a smile. He could imagine this version of himself surrounded by sparkles, holding a pitchfork in farce of a proper farmer. A fantastical, Alm who was, no doubt, a natural at kissing, effortlessly honed in the skill, and then some, too. Probably.

   This was going to be their first kiss and Alm wanted it to be special. Amazingly, Faye wasn’t that picky. She just wanted to be kissed because that’s what she had dreamed of. Being peppered with kisses, to have her hand held, to be loved for who she was.

   Faye, like any person, had her faults but her directness was not one of them. She was a sweet, earnest person who could make Alm blush with how effectively she communicated herself. Everything from her likes and dislikes, to her expectations and everything else in between. She had put a lot of thought into paring down the elements of relationship into a duality of privileges and responsibilities. Not only for Alm but herself, too, of course. 

   Everything and anything she asked of Alm, she begged to be asked of in return. Alm had found in humbling during the war to have a comrade with whom he could entrust his life and healing to, who took every directive to heart and did her best to succeed - and exceed - her instructions. Even now, Faye took such uncanny enthusiasm into the far smaller scope of the perimeter of their life together on the roots of Ram Village.

   So, in the end, she left Alm in no uncertain terms for what she wanted but was flexible on the delivery. 

   For so long, she had believed her pining to be unrequited and Alm didn’t blame her for that. He was… more than a bit oblivious to the inner workings of the mind and motive, particularly that of women. Classic adolescent male behaviour, or so he would like to blame but even beyond that, his attention had been elsewhere. It had been in the clouds of his own daydreams.

   For so long, Alm had yearned for a world far, far beyond Ram Village and its wooded outskirts. He knew, innately, that he was destined for something more than working the fields and making small talk about the weather.

   The campaign through Valentia and further had been the adventure of a lifetime for Alm. It satiated his need to be apart of something bigger than himself. He had drawn upon strength he did not know he possessed as he navigated through the battlefields, calling upon allies that he met at the crossing of steel.

   However… The politics beyond that did not suit him. The idea of a high and mighty royal lifestyle and the responsibilities it held daunted him when he still saw himself as a salt of the earth commoner rather than a long lost prince.

   He knew himself better than he knew anyone and he knew that, despite the teachings that Mycen had instilled in him, he could not be a prince. He could not be more than a figurehead to a movement of war, rebellion, and justice. He simply did not believe that he had what it would take to lead an entire country - not just his soldiers - into a better, more prosperous future.

   Celica, however, had such stones inside of her and so, Alm entrusted the creation of the country now known Valm and it's dynasty into her capable hands.

   She had been heartbroken, of course. She had wanted a future in which she ruled side by side with Alm, as king and queen, but deep down, she understood Alm’s perspective and had empathy for it. Thus, she allowed him to step down but his importance as the so-called Saint King could not be understated. It would go down in history, he would not fade into obscurity, Celica swore so, even as Alm embraced that anonymity where he had once aimed to reject it.

   And so, he returned to Ram Village to learn the ways of the land. 

   From there, Faye made her move. Her heart had been fit to burst when she finally - finally - confessed her burgeoning feelings. It had come hot on the heels of the amicable break-up between Alm and Celica but Alm’s eyes opened to his childhood friend, the farmgirl who sewed poppets in her free time and enjoyed baking.

   When she espoused her true feelings with intense, passionate words, Alm saw Faye in a brand new light. She was emblematic of the people whom he had wanted to protect. The common folks who provided the bread on his table, the ones who were most vulnerable to injustice and unfairness. She had stepped up to become their bow and arrow, their healing stave, and Alm resonated with her confession.

   He smiled unto her and suddenly, he saw a future he never thought possible. It was so storybook and cookie cutter and he didn't want it any other way. The old Alm would never have wanted such a thing for himself and yet, the Alm he had become, he was practically salivating over that schoolyard rhyme of First comes love… He could see it in pristine clarity: a hick wedding, a house with a brand new fence out the front (that he built), and three kids. Maybe more. Depends on what Faye wanted but that was getting way, way, way ahead of himself.

   After all…

   Here he was.

   Standing in front of Faye who was waiting for his and hers first kiss and had now become roused to Alm’s hesitation.

   Her eyes opened and her lashes fluttered. The afternoon sunlight hit just right and by the gods, Faye had the prettiest brown eyes in the whole wide world, Alm would think anyway. Her lips parted in adorable nonplus.

   “Is everything alright, Alm?” she asked.

   Alm chuckled nervously. He felt like a duffer for letting Faye wait so long. She looked so good, perched up on the fence outside her house, to even out the height difference between them rather than make her get up on tiptoes. Together, they were in the shade of the old orange tree and a cool, spring breeze was blowing, they were surrounded by lowing cows and daisies. It was picture perfect like a fairy tale and yet here Alm was, unable to kiss his princess ordinary girl.

   “Y-Yeah,” Alm stammered, “I just…”

   “If you're not ready, you're not ready. I won’t force you, I could never.” Faye sounded like she felt awful for putting Alm in this position.

   But that wasn’t the problem at all! So now Alm felt bad and that hit him in the stomach.

   “No, that’s not it.” Alm protested with a lopsided smile. “It’s just. What if it's not good? Our first kiss?”

   “What do you mean?” Faye asked ever so innocently.

   “I’ve never kissed anyone.” Alm attempted to clarify but his voice pitched up involuntarily in embarrassment.

   “So? Neither have I?” Faye pointed out.

   “But I’ve never thought about kissing anyone, either.” Alm said and he shrugged sheepishly. “Besides, you’ve probably dreamed about kissing me so many times, how am I meant to live up that? What if I’m bad?”

   “Oh, Alm…” Faye swooned and laughed good naturedly at Alm’s expense, making him blush further in his bluster. “Well, yes, of course I’ve dreamed of this moment…” She fidgeted cutely, pressing her two pointer fingers against each other, as she continued. “But I love the real you, not the you of my fantasies. I’ve always wanted the real thing, not just my silly wishful thinking. Trust me, you could never disappoint me.”

   Alm smiled, heartened by Faye’s comforting words, “Thank you, dear.”

   “Well?” Faye prompted him hopefully and leaned in again, she held onto the wooden fence again for balance. Her eyes sparkled. “Are you ready this time?”

   “Yes, I’m sure.” Alm replied.

   Alm took a breath that centred him but this time, his palms didn’t sweat and his heart didn’t race unpleasantly. Instead, it was a sweet thrill as he leaned in to requite Faye’s waiting kiss. Their lips met and it was utter bliss. 

   The vernal afternoon beamed warmly upon them as Alm and Faye savoured the moment with relish. Faye’s lips were soft, she tasted faintly of honey and vanilla. Her own smile grew and grew with infectious giddiness as they started slow only to come undone and then some. All of Alm’s senses were filled by Faye and she felt like home, he couldn’t get enough of it.

   She, in turn, adored how real it was. How nothing like it was in her crush stricken fantasies.

   Alm, meanwhile, also cherished the moment, wishing that if he held onto his breath long enough it could last all eternity. He had never imagined anything like it and now held the belief that if he had, it would pale in comparison to Faye’s sun-warmed lips, the taste of the treats she made and the balms she applied.  Then something both grand and irrelevant dawned on Alm. 

   If anyone was going to hold a candle for an illusory Saint King, it would be Faye. Faye who had cared for him and loved him ever since he was a play pretend knight on the edge of Ram Village and daydreamed about the greatness he could achieve. She who fantasised about him for years on end and saw him in a light holier than anyone else. Thus, it would and could not be Celica, nor the history books or folklore who would perpetuate the Saint King and put him to rest but rather it would be the woman whom Alm wanted to make his wife. 

   Faye was not a princess but he wasn’t the Saint King either. He hadn’t been for a long time but just because Faye wasn’t a princess, that did not mean she was an ordinary girl either. No, she was extraordinary. She was pure of heart, honest to a fault, and sweeter than all the sugar in the world.

   Alm kissed Faye and thought nothing more than of the future that he wanted with her, that it would be filled with even more kisses like this… That he had vanquished his irrational fear of his fantastical self who existed only in Faye’s mind and his own worries and the self far grander than his scope could handle. Alm’s heart calmed knowing well not only himself in this day and age but Faye, too.

   She sighed and wordlessly asked for more which Alm was far too happy to provide. He was eager to kiss more and more, their lips parted and heaven forbid, their tongues even met. They were getting messy and even less than chaste over the perimeter fence just like two ordinary love birds ought to do.

[sunalimerchant]

Understanding Platinum Ring Prices: A Comprehensive Guide

Platinum rings are the epitome of luxury and elegance, often chosen for their durability, timeless appeal, and hypoallergenic properties. However, the allure of platinum comes with a higher price tag compared to other precious metals like gold and silver. This article provides a comprehensive guide to understanding platinum ring price, exploring the various factors that influence the cost and offering insights into making an informed purchase.

The Value of Platinum

Platinum is one of the rarest and most valuable metals on Earth. Its density, purity, and natural white sheen make it a preferred choice for high-end jewelry. Platinum is significantly denser and heavier than gold or silver, which means that even small pieces contain a substantial amount of metal. This inherent value contributes to the higher price of platinum rings.

Factors Influencing Platinum Ring Prices

Weight and Purity

The weight of the platinum used in a ring is measured in grams, and the more substantial the ring, the higher the cost. Platinum used in jewelry is typically 95% pure, denoted as "950 platinum." This high level of purity ensures a durable and hypoallergenic metal but also increases the price. Rings with more intricate designs or larger sizes will naturally contain more platinum and, therefore, be more expensive.

Design Complexity

The complexity of the ring’s design plays a crucial role in determining its price. Simple bands or classic solitaire settings are generally more affordable than rings with intricate patterns, engravings, or unique shapes. Designs that require more craftsmanship and time to create will increase the overall cost due to the labor involved.

Gemstones

Many platinum rings are adorned with gemstones such as diamonds, sapphires, or emeralds. The type, size, quality, and number of gemstones significantly impact the ring's price. For example, a platinum ring featuring a high-carat, flawless diamond will be more expensive than a ring with smaller or less perfect stones. Additionally, the setting style, whether it is a prong, bezel, or pave, also affects the price due to the level of craftsmanship required.

Craftsmanship

The level of craftsmanship involved in creating a platinum ring is another critical factor in its price. Handcrafted rings, which involve more labor and skill, often command higher prices than machine-made rings. The precision and attention to detail that go into handcrafting ensure a unique and high-quality piece, justifying the additional cost.

Brand and Retailer

The reputation of the brand or retailer also influences the price of platinum rings. Well-known brands or designers with a history of exceptional quality and service may charge a premium for their products. Additionally, purchasing from reputable retailers ensures authenticity and quality, but it may come at a higher price compared to lesser-known or online-only sellers.

Market Conditions

The price of platinum as a raw material fluctuates based on market conditions, including supply and demand, geopolitical events, and economic trends. When the market price of platinum rises, the cost of platinum jewelry, including rings, will also increase. Staying informed about these trends can help buyers decide when to make their purchase.

Tips for Buying Platinum Rings

Set a Budget

Before shopping for a platinum ring, it’s essential to set a budget. This helps narrow down options and ensures you don’t overspend. Keep in mind that the price of the ring will depend on the factors mentioned above, so having a clear budget can guide your choices.

Research and Compare

Take the time to research different retailers and compare prices. Look for online reviews, check the retailer’s reputation, and consider the quality of craftsmanship and materials used. Comparing multiple options will help you find the best value for your money.

Consider Alternatives

If the price of a solid platinum ring is beyond your budget, consider alternatives like platinum-plated or platinum-enhanced rings. These options provide the look and feel of platinum at a lower cost, though they may not offer the same durability and hypoallergenic properties.

Check for Certifications

Ensure that any platinum ring you purchase comes with proper certifications indicating the purity and authenticity of the metal and any gemstones. Certifications from reputable organizations provide assurance of the ring's quality and value.

Conclusion

The price of a platinum ring is influenced by several factors, including the weight and purity of the platinum, design complexity, gemstones, craftsmanship, brand reputation, and market conditions. By understanding these elements and following the tips for buying, you can make an informed decision that balances cost and quality. While platinum rings are a significant investment, their enduring beauty, durability, and timeless appeal make them a worthwhile addition to any jewelry collection.

[bestdiamondearringsonline]

Go For Graceful Diamond Bling and Shine Forever

Diamonds are among the most cherished options in jewellery. Their enduring companionship with the wearer marks their immense value. Found deep within the Earth’s crust, they undergo meticulous craftsmanship, evolving as the redefined epitome of natural beauty. The timeless luxury they add to ornaments makes them worthy of being part of a fashionable lifestyle.

Hazoorilal Jewellers, committed to providing top-quality diamond jewellery in Delhi, is a one-stop shop to meet your jewellery needs. They understand that quality is predominant in jewellery curation, as it requires a significant investment that stems from the hard-earned money of the buyers. Moreover, they cater to individuals' upgraded lifestyles with the provision of ravishing diamond jewellery pieces.

Keep reading this blog to learn the important aspects of diamond jewellery and how quality craftsmanship helps access artistic pieces.

● Diamonds possess natural beauty as they form deep within the earth's crust under high pressure and temperature conditions. Their unique crystal structure refracts light in a way that contributes to a dazzling array of colours and brilliance. ● They are among the rarest gemstones. That’s why when you buy diamond jewellery in Delhi and anywhere around the world, it may contribute to your valuable investment. ● They are popular for the majority of special events, especially engagements, as they symbolise eternal love, purity, and strength with their unique and timeless brilliance.

However, it is important to look for the best jewellery providers, such as Hazoorilal Jewellers, to ensure your diamond jewels feature the above-mentioned properties. Quality craftsmanship is essential in the curation of all types of jewellery, including diamond jewellery. From ethically sourced gemstones to setting them in metal bases and giving them exclusive cuts and shapes, this is the work of expert artisans.

In addition, they will help you get a range of diamond jewellery designs with the best price tag. Some of the most popular designs are discussed below.

● Some designers specialise in experimenting with geometric and asymmetrical shapes, giving their jewellery pieces an impressive look. ● Pieces featuring vintage art and intricate details are popular choices for exuding timeless elegance. ● With the rise in the choice of delicate and minimalist jewellery trends, people find it interesting to buy layered diamond necklaces, rings, and bracelets. Visiting the best jewellery shop will help you explore the best diamond necklace designs in the best price range.

There are plenty of other designs that you can access from Hazoorilal Jewellers, one of the leading jewellery brands in India. Their collection ranges from minimalist to elaborate weddings and other special jewellery designs. Moreover, choosing this brand will assure you of quality diamonds, artistic work in their pieces, and the best price range. Furthermore, they help you purchase the best diamond jewellery in Delhi according to your style, needs, and preferences.

[majadejewelrydesign]

Why Sapphire is September Birthstone and Alternatives

The Reason Why Sapphire Represents September, Plus Great Choices of Alternative Birthstones

Being one of the most well recognized gemstones, even non-jewelry savory friends might know Sapphire is the birthstone of September. But is there a rational or reason behind the decision? Read on to discover! In honor of the season, remember to take the opportunity and get a FREE birthstone necklace upon purchase during the month of September.

Looking into Astrology: Relationship of Sapphire to Virgo and Libra

Gemstone lovers might remember birthstone by months, but puzzled as to why that specific gemstone was selected to represent the very month. True, we can be sure there must be a reason behind, however history is an ambiguous subject with many theories and stories. The modern birthstones we recognized today were agreed upon by organizations like Jewelers of America and American Gem Trade Association. This fact gives us a good start to investigate why Sapphire was selected to symbolize September.

The Link Between Sapphire, Virgo and the Planet Mercery

A key element of modernity is individualism, and thus the rational behind birthstone selection is often tied to Zodiac.  The month of September is predominately represented by Virgo (Aug 23 – Sep 22) and shares by Libra (Sep 23 – Oct 22). The ruling planet of Virgo is Mercery. And we all know Mercery is known as the “ocean planet”, symbolized by the color blue, water and transparency. Furthermore, Sapphire represents calmness and stability which coincide with Virgo’s temperament; and hence the Virgo-Sapphire-Mercury association.

Libra and Sapphire- the Metaphysic of Balance

The latter of September is represented by Libra, which is represented by a weight or scale, and thus symbolized balance and equilibrium. With its royal blue hue, Sapphire is connected to truth, sincerity and faithfulness. No doubt the perfect match with Libra.

The actual reason of selecting Sapphire for September was lost in history, but the Zodiac theory makes a very good case.

Kyanite: A Great Alternative September Birthstone

Sapphire is one of the rarest minerals on earth undoubtedly comes with a high price tag. Due to the accessibility nowadays people are accepting alternatives, and Kyanite is a good candidate with its similar appearance and a relatively affordable in price. Kyanite’s royal blue hue and brilliancy have a close resemblance to Sapphire. The main difference between two stones is their hardness.

Sapphire is a gemstone from the corundum family, ranking a 9 on the Mohs scale of hardness it is one of the hardest gemstones on earth after diamond. Kyanite ranks a 4.5 – 7 in comparison (generally speaking jewelry grade Kyanite is around 6.5-7 in hardness, this topic deserves a more detail explanation for another article). The hardness however limits the way Kyanite is cut and polish. Being a more brittle material in comparison, Kyanite is more often cut and polish to spherical shape (bead) or briolette. Not necessary a CON to the gemstone, think of this as a feature not a bug. A Kyanite bead is truly specular with its natural pattern and gloss. Something that cannot be describe into words, best sees the photo or better yet in physical jewelry!

Color Sapphire for the Early Autumn Mood

Aside from the famous royal blue, Sapphire comes in many other colors. Although in a traditional sense only the popular blue is considered as September birthstone, nowadays more people see color sapphire as another great choice to represent the autumn month. Let’s look at our best pick of color sapphire and how they relate to the season!

Teal Sapphire, the color of a Brisky Lake

Reminiscent of the lake in early autumn, not so cold, just a bit chilly and very refreshing. Teal Sapphire is very much like the royal blue Sapphire with a tint of green. A great color for the nonconformist.

Pink Sapphire and the color of Autumn Sky

Think of the captivating rosy pink sunset of an autumn sky, this popular variation of Sapphire is a favorite for the true romantic.

Yellow Sapphire and the Leaf of Early Fall

Reminds us of September where the trees are turning to an amber yellow color. Perhaps a little melancholy, but somberly beautiful in its own right.

Now we hope you learn about Sapphire and other alternatives for September birthstone! Don’t forget to enjoy a FREE birthstone necklace upon purchase. Offer is good till October 01 2023.

[zeawesomebirdie]

You know how in My Hero Academia people have quirks or whatever? Yours is getting attached to the rarest of pairs I think :'))) good luck and godspeed, if I wasn't so artblocked all the time I'd doodle you something

(also I'm working on the Snarry reclist!! We're at about 110 fics I think, I hope it'll all fit. Between not remembering a good third of them at all, not knowing how to politely say 'this isn't very good writing but 13yo me had a blast with it' and wondering where I'm supposed to put the smut it's a wild ride but it's also a trip down memory lane (except for the fics I have no memory of) Also two of them got deleted, and I have epubs but their main interest is that I liked them when I didn't know what I liked, sooo you'll have to tell me if you're interested or not, but I figure with the hundred of works I'm going to drown you under you'll have other things to read. Anyway)

Oh my goodness listen- i really have been in the Hawkeye/Radar camp since episode two of the entire show, and how no one else seems to see it i havent a clue!! And here with Margaret/Trapper, i thought, oh well its a m/f ship they canonically act in a romantic way surely there will be shippers of this, but no! 9 fics on Ao3!! 9!!!! And i thought Hawkeye/Radar was low with 27!!!!!

And you know what, i really am cursed and blessed with this because like, im the one who made the Yunobo/Link tag on Ao3, im actively writing a Beedle/Link fic (last chapter coming soon i swear), a Plagueis/Sidious fic, and a Fred/Oliver/George fic, so i may as well add Margaret/Trapper to my repertoire!! Like, make the content you want to see in the world and i want content of these ships so i am going to write it!!!! When i saw that kylux was a popular ship i was floored i swear, im chronically a rarepair shipper like 95% of the time omg how does this happen to me!!!!

(And and omg omg your rec list im so excited!!!!! Theres still no rush, please take your time!!!!! Im still working through your obikin recs!! But omg 👀👀👀👀 listen, we all have some questionable taste at 13 but also, going back and rereading what little 13yo me thought was the peak of fic has been so enlightening and i would love to see these fics!! Theres something so sincere about loving a fic as a young teen and wondering what on earth you were about years later, but i think at the end of the day its very important yknow?)