#? will edit in tags once i know what to be using

[seldomscilence16]

The Dream Au Gift Part 4!

This one is a little shorter cause I got super busy but wanted to give ya'll something! Which also means I didnt edit it so sorry in advance! Check out 'The dream au' tag for awesome art, snippets, and other amazing writers takes! And check out @hey-hey-j the creator and fantastically talented mind behind it all and more!

...

Floyd has been unconscious since he found him. Tossing and turning and sick, but never awake. He’s wary of leaving his side, but he knows he needs to talk to his kids, and the island has been so worried… 

“Ngh-” He’s trembling, trying to push himself up, it's the first sign of anything, and Bruce is quick to pull him close, to support his weak frame. 

“Floyd, hey-” he fights in his hold, hand gripping Bruce's shirt far tighter than he should be able to in his condition, “It's okay!” 

“Whe-” gasping breaths from a too thin frame, “Where are they?” His other hand reaches for his own hair, faltering and panicked. 

Bruce carefully plucks the egg from his hair, placing it gently against Floyd's chest, 

“Here, they’re here, they’re safe.” Pulling him closer, trying to calm his own heart in some sense of reassurance, “You’re safe.”

Floyd cradles the egg, all his strength going into the action as he slumps against Bruce. His half lidded eyes are focused only on the precious cargo, but whether he’s actually taking anything in or not, the elder has no clue. When fuchsia pupils are hidden once again, when fever and unconsciousness dig their claws deep into the younger, and quiet raspy breaths once again fill the silence, Bruce lets a tear fall. Only one, before he takes a shuddering breath and situates his brother again, wiping at his face and returning to his position at his side. 

He couldn’t say how much time passes before his wife joins him. Her head laid so gently beside him as she kneels at the bedside. They speak in soft tones, and he takes strength in her supportive presence, and while the idea of leaving this room, leaving his side, had his stomach twisting and heart clenching, there is no one he trusts more than the woman before him. 

.

John hears arguing. 

An accented voice and another with a raspy quality to it. He thinks there's a few others in the background, but he’s more focused on the tones. His hair stands on end, nerves wound tight as he takes a stake from his hair, rarely does he run into other friendlies on the road, especially so close to a giant colony. He crouched low, ears flickering to pinpoint the louder voice-

He lunges.

.

Branch sees the figure around the same time Dickory does, but it does nothing to allow either of them to react in time. Barb flails backwards, Viva has Poppy pushed behind her, Hickory is still too surprised to do more than hold the stake wielding arm at a distance. Clay actually reacts first, gripping Branch’s shoulder as he breathes out another haunting name, before shouting it again with his arms up and out to draw attention,

“John!” 

His head whips around, faltering just barely as he takes the two in,

“Stop! He's with us!”

“He’s Floyd's Boyfriend!” Branch adds, a little too off put to say much else, anything to shock him enough to stop attacking. 

“He’s Floyd’s what now!?” 

“What is happening…?” Barb has been helped up by Poppy, staring at the frozen scene with a perplexed look, like she had been ready to fight and halted too soon, stuck in the lurch as it were. 

“The dead are coming back to life left and right is what's happening.” Branch mutters, heart calming just enough for some of that bitterness to return. 

“Let him go John, before you get yourself killed.” Clay warns reluctantly, motioning to the shorter yodeler that looks a moment away from throttling the visor wearer. 

John looks from one to the other, slowly lowering his weapon and releasing Hickory, he does a 180 as he turns to Clay and Branch, 

“I can’t believe you guys are alive!” He throws his arms out, grin wide, and maybe Branch can see some genuine relief in his eyes, but it's still over 20 years too late.

When silence follows his exclamation and neither brother moves forward to greet him, an awkwardness and tension war to fill the air and Poppy is never one to let it linger,

“Okay! Um… Hi, I’m Poppy. My newly found sister Viva, Queen Barb of Rock, Hickory and Dickory, and I guess you already know those two… Uh,” her eyes flash around their group and surroundings for only a moment, “It's getting dark, why don't we make camp, and figure out our next move.” 

Everyone warily dispersed to do just that, Branch ignoring John's dejected look, as Poppy appears at his side with a worried tilt to her brow. He releases a quiet sigh, but takes her offered hand as they go to collect firewood. 

.

Viva had not expected her day to turn out like this. To meet other Trolls, to reunite with her sister- who wasn't dead!- to agree to leave the putt putt course and join her on this journey… 

She was kinda freaking out. 

The jump scare just now didn’t help, and the tension between so many members was making her nervous, only added to with their newest addition. There were so many questions, but just like herself, no one looked ready to talk about it just yet. 

Their newest member stood where he had been left, Dickory eyeing him where he was setting up their sleeping spaces. John looked lost, and sad. A million emotions in his eyes, one's she didn't know, and ones she did. For all of Dickory's suspicion, she had no doubts that he too recognized some. 

And with their current group… It likely wouldn’t be addressed quickly. 

She makes eye contact with the shorter Yodeler as she shuffles closer to John Dory, figuring for once that her speed wouldn’t be appreciated here. To his credit, John's ear twitches at her approach, obviously still aware. His face changes as he straightens up, turning to look at her with only a little strain to his smile, 

“Princess Viva, good to see you alive, or would it be Queen now?” His brow furrows at the thought, the passage of time a tricky thing to deal with. 

“Mm, Clay and I are Co leaders of the Putt Putt Trolls.” Viva offers with a shrug and a so-so gesture. 

John blinks a few times, and Viva can see his brain turning all the new info around, before he nods, eyes going to where his two brothers had gone- in different directions. She thinks she might see something click, and she's reminded of the Band she loved so much, and how different they all are now. 

How real they are. 

“What brings you out here?” She finally asks, breaking the tense silence. 

“Found some food!” 

Their eyes snap back to the designated camping area, where a fire has been started already and tents set up, a pot hanging over the flames. 

“We should help out.” 

Viva’s lips purse as John walks away, avoiding her question as his shoulders sag with whatever heavy weight he’s carrying. 

Dickory sits beside him as they eat, a silence hanging over them all as even Viva and Poppy fail to lighten the mood. Eventually, John wanders to the border of their little clearing, sitting against a tree, only then do conversations slowly pick up. 

It bugs her.

But she's not sure why.  

…

“There you are! Are you alright?” 

Hickory can’t draw his eyes away from the letter, reading over it once more, each swirly slightly crooked letter. 

“It's not his handwriting.” Admitting it out loud feels like a window shutting on his shoulders. 

“You think the brother’s telling the truth?” Dickory sits beside him, he can feel the worried eyes scanning his profile as a tear escapes his careful facade. 

“What other choice do I have?” His voice goes hoarse, the letter crinkling in his fists, he has to force his grip to lessen as not to tear the evidence. His brother is silent for a long moment,

“I'm sorry…” Rarely does Dickory’s voice sound like this, “I shouldn't have asked you to come with me.” The guilt… 

“It's not your fault.” Hickory has to swallow the lump in his throat, for all his anger and fear, he never means to hurt his brother.

“But if I hadn’t-”

“Stop it.” He finally turns to him fully, firm as he looks him in the eyes, “I’m the one who left. If it's anyone's fault-” his shoulders slump-

“Now you stop it.” Dickory’s hand is solid and warm on his shoulder.

And despite the despair and guilt, an understanding passes between them. 

They’d have each others backs, like they always did. 

<<Prev next>>

[just-horrible-things]

1. What is the main lesson of your story? Why did you choose it?

I feel like a lot of these questions reveal a very different approach to writing to mine. I don’t set out to impart lessons, I’m not interested in writing didactically. 

Unlikely Salvation has I guess some kind of lesson about change or forgiveness or that hurting people radicalises them and helping each other is the only way to mend rifts or something. But all of that grew organically, and there’s also a lot of fucked up stuff in there, a lot of “don’t try this at home”. Alex is way too forgiving early in the story, that’s not coming from a healthy place, that’s not a moral recommendation. It’s just an interesting thing for him as a character to do.

I think my other stories are further from having any “lessons” in them. Shit just happens, in some kind of sequence.

2. What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding?

Large parts of the Resistance ‘verse were made up by my co-author, so I can’t speak to that. The structure and behaviours of the feds are mostly based on reading about real-world fascist organisations.

My BBU works are obviously very heavily inspired by other BBU stories, especially the way @ashintheairlikesnow writes it.

Annihilation is purely vibes. I’m throwing in everything that feels cool to me at the time and I couldn’t name where those ideas are coming from. (I’m more likely to be able to put my finger on it in retrospect, once the shape of it comes clearer.)

3a. What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them?

Ariadne, my prime blorbo, is primarily motivated by seeking atonement, and by seeking Victory for her Cause.

Smith and Spider are mostly just trying to survive. Spider later trying to carve out her own identity.

Nikef is trying to win a war, preferably without losing what’s left of her selfhood along the way. Ahden is trying to keep Nikef alive and sane and not deciding to murder everyone.

I, the writer, am trying to tell interesting stories with characters who feel three-dimensional and textured.

3b. Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness or help the reader grow as a person?

No.

4. How many chapters is your story going to have?

Don’t know, don’t care. I’m not trying to write complete, finished things at this time in my life. Honestly I find the notion a bit intimidating, and while I’m sure I could do it and probably will at some point in the future, at the moment writing is mostly an outlet for random creative energy. I write out of order and at a whim.

5. Is it fan fiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

Original content. Only putting it on tumblr at present. If tumblr went away or became intolerable, I’d probably move it somewhere else, since enough people seem to enjoy it.

6. When did you start writing?

I don’t remember a time when I didn’t, honestly. Probably around the time I learned to, physically, write. There have been years and patches of years where my output was very low, but I’ve always made up stories and scrawled at least some of them down.

7a. Do you have any words of encouragement for fellow writers of writeblr?

It’s been said before, but write whatever you feel like writing. If you enjoy your story, if it matters to you, if it has meaning to you, that stuff will come through in your writing.

Don’t worry too much about quality. You’re always learning, you can always go back and edit stuff if you want it to be better. Stressing too much about the quality of output just gets you stuck in a loop of infinite editing or worse feeling too bad to write at all.

7b. What other writers do you follow?

So many. I’ve recently listed a few favourite stories. I’m following *checks* 279 blogs write now and I’d estimate 90% of them are writers.

—

I’m terrible at coming up with people to tag but uhhhh @mottinthemainpot, @justplainwhump ? No pressure.

Tag Game: Author Ask Tag

thxxxxxxx @sacratos for the tag!

Question Template: 1. What is the main lesson of your story? Why did you choose it? 2. What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding? 3. What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness or help the reader grow as a person? 4. How many chapters is your story going to have? 5. Is it fan fiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it? 6. When did you start writing? 7. Do you have any words of encouragement for fellow writers of writeblr? What other writers do you follow?

1. What is the main lesson of your story? Why did you choose it? 

Don’t be an idiot and actually communicate with those you love, lol. In all seriousness, I don’t know if my story has a main theme, but there are several themes for sure. The importance of having family that loves and supports you (whether found or biological), taking back autonomy of oneself, and the importance of community.

2. What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding? 

Other BBU/pet whump authors! If you have written for the BBU, trust me, I have used some idea of yours as inspiration somewhere. I also use middle school me’s obsession with dystopian novels as inspiration as well.

3. What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness or help the reader grow as a person? 

All my MCs are trying to heal, in one way or another and I want my readers to connect with my characters in some way. Not really teaching a lesson or having some big, major theme, but I want my characters to feel real and connect with the readers (yes, even if you want to kill them you cannot touch Star, he is immune from death)

4. How many chapters is your story going to have? 

Hahahaha ha ha ha. . . yeah, no clue

5. Is it fan fiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it? 

Original content from my brain! I post it here, and only here

6. When did you start writing? 

The minute I learned what stories were. I think I wrote my first “story” (bible fanfiction. No I will not be taking questions about that) when I was about seven or so, then my first full fanfiction at nine and I have not stopped since. 

7. Do you have any words of encouragement for fellow writers of writeblr? What other writers do you follow?

Read! Seriously, I cannot stress this enough! Read! And not just to compare yourselves with other writers–please don’t do that at all–but read to see how others write emotion, descriptions, characters, plots! Take what you like and figure out why you don’t like other kinds of writing, then apply what you want to your own writing. Also, your writing voice will develop in time. Don’t worry about that.

A large chunk of people I follow are writers! Can’t list all of them here, but they know who they are and their writings have inspired and shaped both my style and my content. Ilyasm! 

Tagging (w/o any pressure!) @quietly-by-myself @whump-card @sparrowsage @whumble-beeee @whumpyourdamnpears and anyone else who wants to join in!

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[calamarispiderart]

been watching doctor who (2005) for the first time. umm. ?????? ??????????

[jadecantcreate]

i wanted to write a quick 3-chapter fic for day 4 of loa shiptober (how they met i think) and i (a fool) was like. yeah. i could totally write 3 chapters in a few hours. i was wrong. SO wrong. haven’t even finished kremy’s (the first one).

so instead have a maybe-past-kremy design that im conflicted about compared to his current design, as a peace offering

[unfinishedslurs]

The boy stops in his tracks. “I know you,” he says, tilting his head curiously. He’s not tall, but he’s regal nonetheless, dressed all in white. Something about him makes Leia’s hair stand on end, and although she hides it she feels a stirring in her own chest. I know you like I know my own soul, she thinks wildly, and wonders where it came from. Has she gone insane?

“That’s nice,” she says, and shoots him anyway.

He deflects it in a flash of light, a glowing blue laser sword appearing in his hand like magic. She’s only seen one of those before, and it’s Vader’s. If this boy is anything like Vader, she realizes, she’s in deep shit.

She’s smart enough to know when she’s outmatched. Leia makes the tactical decision to run for her life.

Later, as she’s getting the hell out of there, she wonders why he didn’t try to stop her.

She remembers being young and tugging on her mothers skirts, demanding to know why their guest was so sad. “Does he not like it here?” She’d asked, and then, trembling, because Kenobi always seemed saddest around her. “Is it…because of me?”

“Oh, Leia,” her mother sighed, lifting her into her arms. “It’s not that, I promise.”

“Then what is it?”

“Master Kenobi lost a child under his care, years ago.” Breha’s eyes grew deeper, darker. “It was not his fault, but he blames himself. You remind him of that child, that’s all.”

Leia had quieted at that, contemplative.

The next time she’d seen Master Kenobi, she had given him a hug. He didn’t seem to know what to do with that, so she resolved to give him more of them. “He’s lonely,” she’d told her mother. “No one should be lonely.”

Looking at Obi-Wan Kenobi now, the memory seemed so far away. He’d aged thirty years in the ten it had been.

He looks, Leia thinks with a small twinge of regret, very lonely.

“Leia,” he greets. “It’s been a long time.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Leia sees a glint of white.

Kenobi freezes in his tracks. “Luke?” He whispers, and through the distance Leia can hear it as if he’d been speaking directly into her ear.

Master Kenobi lost a child under his care, her mother whispers in her head. He blames himself.

In an instant, Leia understands everything.

Kenobi is still staring at the boy he’d lost so long ago when Vader cuts him down.

Later, as she’s pacing around on the Falcon to Han muttering darkly about Princesses and supernatural abilities, she rememberers the way the boy collapsed, as if all his strings had been cut. Vader was too occupied with him to even look at her as she shot at him desperately.

Luke. She hates him more than she hates herself.

“They know where you are,” he hisses frantically. “They’re coming for you. You have to run.”

“Wait!” Leia quickly pulls up their sonar. Nothing yet, but it would explain the distant queasiness she’d felt since they’d landed. She tended to trust her gut. “How do you know? How much time do we have?”

“Not important, and not enough,” he says. “I have to go, and so do you. You need to leave yesterday.”

“How do I know I can trust you? I don’t even know who you are.”

He pauses. “Call me Skywalker.”

“That’s not an answer, Skywalker.”

“Yes it is.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but there are faint voices on the other end, drawing nearer.

“Shit,” Skywalker mutters. “I have to go. I’ll be in contact, okay? Don’t ever tell me where you are, or where you’re heading. Vader and Palpatine aren’t shy about reading minds. Just leave as soon as you can, and figure out the rest.”

“But—“

It’s too late. The comm has disconnected.

She stares down at it, disbelieving. How would the Empire know they’re here? Why should she trust a stranger who somehow got her personal comm code?

Gut feeling or not, on paper this was a perfect location. Supplied, armored, and most importantly, extremely well hidden. There was no real reason to think it would possibly be found out.

It’s probably a trap. Almost definitely a trap.

Han sticks his head in the door, a sour look on his face. “Hey Princess, can you tell these idiots—“

She makes a decision then and there.

“We’re leaving.”

“What?”

“We’re evacuating, effective immediately.” She pushes past him, and he follows so close he’s nearly stepping on her heel.

“Why? I think it’s pretty cozy here. Actual sunlight doesn’t hurt, either.”

“Apparently too cozy.” She grabs the first person she sees, a pilot who stares at her with wide eyes. “Emergency evacuation. Spread the word to pack everything you can and leave, I’ll let you know where we’re headed when we’re in orbit.”

He salutes and scurries off.

“Woah, hey now.” Han snatches at her elbow until she turns around to face him. “What’s going on?”

“There’s a new informant. He told me the Empire knows we’re here. They’re coming for us.”

“And you trust this person because…”

“I don’t have a choice,” she snaps. Someone runs past them, holding three packs filled to the brim with rations. “It’s either he’s lying and we’re not in danger, or he’s telling the truth and we’re going to die if we don’t listen. It’s not exactly hard math.”

It could be a trap of course, but he hadn’t suggested any sort of direction or destination to follow, and Leia wasn’t inclined to share. Especially not after his tidbit about Vader and Palpatine reading minds.

He squints at her. “That’s not it.”

“What?”

“I don’t believe you,” he insists. He’s so infuriating. Leia doesn’t know why she hasn’t kicked him out yet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do, and you’re either gonna tell me why, or find a different transport when we head out of here.”

“Who said I was riding on your hunk of junk?” She demands. She actually was planning on going with them, since the Falcon has more than enough room for all the supplies that can’t fit in the other ships and none of the trustworthiness of the other pilots, but Han doesn’t need to know that.

“Well?”

Damn him. Damn him for knowing how to read her. She doesn’t know when she let that happen.

“I feel it,” she admits, defeated. “Something tells me he’s trustworthy. We’ll wait and see if it’s right.”

He studies her. She holds her head high, but inside she’s jittery at the scrutiny. They don’t have time for this.

“Yeah, all right,” Han finally says.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” He rolls his eyes, like she’s not acting absolutely insane by putting all her trust in a random man she’s never even met. “Now come on, Princess, weren’t you the one who said we had to hurry?”

What is it about this man that makes it impossible to tell whether she wants to punch him or drag him into the nearest supply closet? They don’t have time to find out.

“So there’s good news and bad news.”

“Bad news first,” she demands.

“They know there’s a mole.”

“Shit.” Of course they know, how could they not? She should have been more careful, less obvious about the correlation of their movements with the Empire’s plans. “The good news?”

“They’ve tasked me with hunting down this ‘pathetic rebel spy,’” Skywalker says, humor in his voice. “That should buy me some time.”

Leia can’t quite stop the snort she lets out. “Seriously?”

“Yep. You’re speaking to a professional mole-hunter, here.”

“Well congratulations on the promotion, Skywalker.”

“Thank you,” he says grandly. Then, quieter, “It won’t last, Princess. They’ll find out eventually.”

“I know. Just hang in there, it will be over soon.”

“Will it?” He asks, suddenly sounding very young. She realizes that she has no idea how old he is. She doesn’t know anything about the man who has saved them more times than she cared to admit, and the idea rattles her until they sign off.

Later, she looks up the name Skywalker in their archives. There are a few results, but only one sticks out.

Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight and hero of the Clone Wars. Killed at the hands of Darth Vader. There are gossip articles too, speculations on his relationship with the pregnant Senator Padmé Amidala, who died around the same time Skywalker did. The baby, it seems, died with her.

Unless he didn’t.

It’s ridiculous. It’s impossible. The idea is so ludicrous that Leia almost rejects it entirely.

But it makes sense. By the Maker, it makes sense.

The child of Anakin Skywalker, it seems, would be a powerful Force user indeed. Powerful enough for Kenobi to take the baby and run. Powerful enough for the Emperor to want him for his own gain. Powerful enough to send Vader after Kenobi and take the boy himself.

Maybe even powerful enough to shield his mind from Vader and Palpatine’s intrusions.

Powerful enough to hide the fact that he’s a spy.

Leia sinks into her chair, covering her face as she laughs.

Maybe Luke isn’t so bad after all.

“No, no, no,” she mutters, digging through the smoking wreckage of the TIE fighter. “Don’t be dead, please don’t be dead.”

“Princess…” Han lays a hand on her shoulder that she immediately shrugs off.

“No, he’s not dead. He’s not. Luke!”

A faint cough answers her, and she’s so relieved to hear it she could cry. Behind her, Han starts bellowing for a medic and, “Some damn help here, do you expect us to move all this ourselves?”

“Luke, it’s me,” she sobs. “It’s Leia. You’re at the Rebel Base. You’re safe.”

More coughing, and there’s a worrying rasp to his voice when he says, “You know…my name?”

“I figured it out.”

“Smart.” This time, the coughing is so bad Leia and Han both wince.

“Shit, kid,” Han says, moving another piece of rubble. “Don’t talk. We’re gonna get you out of here, all right?”

“Stand back,” Luke chokes out.

“What?”

“Stand back. Please.”

Han protests, but something in Leia knows they should listen to him. She drags him back, and motions everyone else to fall back with them. They do, albeit reluctantly.

“Clear,” she calls, hoping Luke can hear her.

The TIE explodes.

“Fuck!” Han goes back in, Leia on his heels with the terrifying feeling that she’d just allowed Luke to die, before they both stop in their tracks. Around them, the broken pieces of the TIE are floating.

And curled up in the middle is a man dressed all in white.

“Luke!” She pushes past Han to start dragging him out, and after another moment of staring around them, he helps her.

As soon as they get clear, the pieces fall to the ground with a clatter. Luke falls limp with them.

Han is still looking at the TIE. “Can you do that?” He asks quietly.

Leia pauses her examination of the unconscious man in front of her to glare at him. “Is that what you’re most concerned with right now? Really?”

“Excuse me for asking, Princess!”

“It’s white,” Luke grumbles, pulling at his hospital gown bitterly. “I hate wearing white.”

“Should I be offended?”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t even. You look great and you know it. I just feel like I never left.”

“Well,” she says gingerly. “I guess it’s a good thing you got sick of it. If we went around in matching outfits all the time, people might think we’re twins.”

He snorts. “Yeah, right.”

[number1villainstan]

[based off of this JJK/RGU crossover post]

"Does this feel...inelegant to anyone else?" Saionji asks as the crowd watches the outsiders bound upwards to fight End of the World.

"How do you mean?" Juri says next to him.

"Like--" Saionji's hands fly around like they're combing the air for the right words. He's still wearing the same thing he was wearing in Wakaba's dorm room. "Like, you know, we're dealing with this strange problem none of us can properly articulate, and suddenly these outsiders come in to be like 'oh yeah, your chairman's some kind of ghost-demon-thing'--"

"Curse," Nanami reminds him.

"Right, a curse. Whatever. And then the outsiders, after they're like 'your chairman's a curse', they somehow disable him long enough to evacuate everyone on campus and then go up to fight him and solve all our problems for us. Like some weird deus ex machina that's only possible through an insane series of coincidences." Touga hms behind him, but Saionji ignores him. "And then you end up with like--character arcs left unfinished, symbols gone to waste, thematic lessons never learned. Like if, I don't know, we were studying the Iliad or something in lit, like if someone just resurrected Patroclus in the middle of all the fighting. Or one of the gods just plucked Helen away from Troy and put her back with Menelaus."

("Did Helen even want to be with Menelaus?" Anthy murmurs to herself, unheard by most.)

Saionji rubs the back of his neck. "You know. That sort of deal. Deus ex machina, interrupted story, unsatisfying conclusion."

Miki stares at him. "But we're not in a story. We're real people. Right?"

"I--well--" Saionji sighs. "Yeah. You're right. Sounds weird now that I say it out loud. Never mind."

[samuraisharkie]

the thing about living in the world is that it is filled with hopeless anguish and despair and evil and there’s no way for anyone to defeat it all. but you have to keep on living

[raiiny-bay]

my favorite edits - 2023 edition 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9

[slushglow]

i wish there was a way to like someone's reblogs of ur content if they have nice tags without it just being u liking ur own post bc the tags can be so kind and i will have no way to acknowledge them and that the person gave me the will to live to see another day or whatever

[icewindandboringhorror]

Baby boy brother birthday photos from last year that I just realized I never uploaded!

[seventh-district]

sighs and collapses and disintegrates into the wind

[scionshtola]

not as much as i wanted but still. prog.

[doodlingwren]

Hiatus

I am going on hiatus for a bit more. I really really hoped the stuff that have been going on lately were already "sorted out" but, uhm... they aren't. I need to take a bit more time offline once again, and try to work things out.

Thank you for your patience ❤

Wren

[lovebandit42069]

Hey are we still doing promo posts?

Great! Hi everyone! I go by Bandit on here :)

And I just might be your next beloved (or be-loathed, I'm not picky really) bisexual disaster mutual!

I have like, a lot, of F/O's but my current mains are Shouta Aizawa, Hizashi Yamada and Nemuri Kayama from MHA (I'm not completely comfortable sharing them but I'm testing the waters on allowing people that share to interact/follow me as long as you can give me a tag for whoever we share that I can block!) (Those three are the only ones I need tags for though so if you don't share them in a romantic sense then hiiii~)

I'm 31 years old and as such don't really want minors interacting with me on here either, I'm glad to see y'all having fun though be free!

I also hate proshippers just to put that out there

Feel free to check out my pinned post and self ship carrd for more info

Anyway come check me out and let's be friends!!! (ESPECIALLY IF YOU SELF SHIP WITH THE ADULTS IN MHA PLEASE WHERE ARE ALL THE ADULT MHA SELF SHIPPERS AT)

[leniisreallycool]

"His brown is short and but wavey and pretty and he has eyes." I'm such a good writer