#as with the original post- If i need to add any trigger warnings for any reason please let me know

[push-tet]

what I've done

The town of Veronaville is one built on little love and one big feud. For years, the Capp and Monty clans have been at each other’s throats; yet this hatred cannot stop the younger generation from crossing borders and falling for one another. Will their actions bring both feuding families to ruin, or spark reconciliation? Can their love truly heal such deep wounds?

Wouldn't you like see Veronaville in entirely different light? K-he.

WHAT’S NEW:

Added a massive storyline! The familiar Сapp, Monty and Summerdream families will be seen in a whole new light🌟

Added three brand new families with their own stories and secrets! 🌟

Added some new and special townies. At the end of the town album there will be a list of townspeople who have biographies and memories, so no need to add/resurrect literally everybody on your lot. 🌟

Added 20 new community lots + remade the old ones as well 🌟

DISCLAMER AND TRIGGER WARNINGS!!!

This hood is not a retelling of Shakespeare's plays, nor is it a mere makeover of the Maxis’ Veronaville. Think of this neighborhood as an alternate universe.

The Neighborhood contains themes of: fantasy, s*icide and self-harm, body horror, OC X CANON (?)

I may have (unintentionally) spoiled some of your favorite simmies… 

ISSUES THAT I AM AWARE OF:

Some townies’ memories could disappear. It happens even with the mod that forbids the townies from losing their memories. I don't know what the reason is so I recommend checking them before you play the game, namely, by going into the family and teleporting the townies to the resident lot. If the memories are already gone, then please re-download the hood.

Hoodchecker might show some minor errors connected to the wrong memory subjects. This was intentional so don't be alarmed! It doesn't affect your game in any negative way.

Don't try to resurrect Julien Cooke. Just forget about him.

Oberon originally had an overlay with a mechanical prosthetic. But for some reason in some testers’ games the overlay was affecting Oberon's complexion, turning his skintone white… So I removed the overlay entirely. You can add it back if you wish!

RECOMMENDED MODS AND PROGRAMS:

Cyber Parts by @themeasureofasim (optional, Oberon’s prosthetics)

Restore Default Names for Sims in Subhoods (if you intent to play a subhood version of it)

🐸DOWNLOAD MF - SFS

THE CONTENTS:

VD01 ENG is a main hood; contains some of my CCs.

VVBS CC is an archive with some custom content from me for the hood (consists of: some cosmetics, contacts (in the masks section) and one female haircut).

VVBS SUBHOOD is a subhood with two major differences from the main hood: it does not contain pictures from Storytelling folder (so the nhood is less heavy) + you can pick and choose whether you want it with or without my custom content.

EXTRA CONTENT folder is not necessary to download; it contains some extra stuff from my project. This file is locked, but you can gather the password in main hood itself through the storytelling pictures and a little game in the community lots (you can find the rules of this game in the description of 2 Pentameter Parkway lot). Think of it as a reward for your attentiveness!

If you find any errors or bugs, just let me know! THANK YOU!

idk what to put in here so that dads' ranking

P.S. Destroy this town with your crazy ideas. :))

Well, the English version of this interactive fanfic is finally OUT!

I have Pahleen (translation) and @f1shart (English editing) to thank for that! And I also want to thank the many wonderful testers and people who supported my project!🌹🌹

I will continue to post materials about this neighborhood on this blog, but I also have plans to expand this universe, so for that I created a blog @vv-bs so you can follow the development of the project!

[amalthea-13]

Stolas and Valentino

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of Sexual Abuse, Sexual Assault, and other forms of abuse. If you cannot handle this post, I completely understand. Please scroll to save your mental health points.

Introduction

Hello all, if you're here you know who I am. If not, it is I, Amalthea, the Ultimate Stolas Kinnie and Stan. Back at it again, being forced to defend Stolas purely because people cannot read. This essay may be long so buckle the hell up ya'll.

I want to make it clear; I have no desire to discuss this topic. I have no desire to have to spoon feed to literal adults the narrative of this show.

I have no desire to explain basic logic to a a fandom that should be mature enough to dissect a piece of media beyond the surface level.

Despite my love for literature and media analysis, this entire fandom has exhausted me of any desire to continue refuting the same damn arguments. If you need context please check my reblog to a post accusing Stolas of being a Sexual Abuser here. Play nice in the comments and do not antagonize the original poster. Play nice, I mean it. Be rude to them and I find out you follow me? You will be blocked.

This essay will be discussing the differences between Val and Stolas. I want to note that I am not going to feel good while typing this. If I cut points short and you want to expand on them in a constructive way, please do reblog and add on. I can only do so much.

Stolas And Blitz's Dynamic and Agreement

When it comes to these two, many people get it twisted as to what their actual agreement is. So I will be taking Stolas's direct words from Murder Family. I want to note that Stolas and Blitz are implied to have been discussing the terms of this arrangement while I.M.P. was still functioning. Meaning prior to the agreement, Blitz got free access to the book for at least a month or more without any obligation to Stolas physically.

All of these things matter because many people like to imply the agreement is all Stolas's fault, when in actuality they have been discussing this arrangement and it's terms for at least a month.

The arrangement is as follows, these are Stolas's exact words;

Stolas: Then, let me keep it simple: Once a month, on the full moon, you return the book to me, followed by a night of…paaassionate fornication~ Aaand you get to keep it all the rest of the time, hmm? Sound fair, my little Imp?

Many people have misconstrued this to mean Stolas will withhold the book from Blitz and hang his power over Blitz's head. This cannot be further from the damn truth.

We find out during Full Moon that Blitz was able to come and go as he pleased within the arrangement and still keep the book from an interaction he has with Moxxie;

Blitzo: Well, it's the-- first of all, fuck you. It's the Full Moon, I got to meet up with Stolas tonight. Felt like dressing up a little since it's been a few months since I've been inside of his feathered ass.

Moxxie: A few months?!

Blitzo: Yeah, the bird started giving me more ways out of our monthly fuck-sesh. He'd be all like "Oh, Blitzy, I know it's the Full Moon tonight, but you don't have to come if you don't want to, Blitzy", so I've just been taking breaks from having to plow his feathered ass into his fancy ass mattress.

Note Blitz's language here because it matters. Firstly, both Blitz and Moxxie note Stolas has let Blitz get away with this for several months. Mind you, Blitz has had the grimoire the entire time and maintained ownership of it, even after the events of Seeing Stars when Blitz lost the grimoire to Octavia.

I.M.P. has remained functioning the entire time despite Blitz not fulfilling his end of the agreement. So while through Blitz's lens it may have felt like Stolas held power over him, Stolas never in any regard implied he would or ever did utilize the power he had over Blitz. Therefore, no, you don't get to paint Stolas as a sexual abuser when he actively is not participating in that behavior.

If when I was a child, I accused my parent of harming be, but there was no active physical harm going on, I cannot call that abuse just because I feel like my parent might hurt me.

If someone is eyeing me in a bar, but makes no attempt to bother me, touch me, or come into my space, I cannot accuse them of sexual harassment just because I feel uncomfortable.

These examples are different, but there are specific definitions to the words "abuse" and "sexual harassment", there is specific criteria for both because they are serious crimes.

Just like being a "sexual abuser" has specific criteria that needs to be met in order for it to actually be sexual abuse. The user I responded to accused Stolas of abusing Blitz, but unfortunately for all of you I had to recently refresh on my sexual harassment training for my job and therefore I am well acquainted with the topic and what the legalities regarding it are.

I want to remind everyone, that Stolas and Blitz are not in a formal business relationship. Stolas isn't Blitz's "boss", but an asset. That's all Stolas is, Blitz is still the boss of I.M.P.

For a baseline definition lets establish the type of sexual harassment Stolas is being accused of which is quid pro quo sexual harassment as defined the Department of Administrative Services; "One party forces the other party to offer sex in return for recruitment, promotion or salary raise within the first party's powers, and threatens to demote, cut the salary or even fire the second party if rejected. In Latin it means “this for that”. This is usually the most blatant kind of sexual harassment. This occurs when employment decisions are based upon an employee’s willingness to grant sexual favors in exchange for working benefits such as promotions, increases, preferred assignments or punishment such as being demoted or fired. This type of harassment, typically involves a harasser who has authority over the victim. According to federal guidelines, a single “quid pro quo” advance may be considered harassment if it is linked to an employment benefit."

This is the definition of "quid pro quo" sexual harassment and is a very real issue. I will try to be graceful and faithful to this definition throughout this essay. If I do anything you deem unacceptable or inappropriate, please DM me or comment and I will have no problem holding myself accountable for that.

Now the main thing with "quid pro quo" sexual harassment is the person being harassed needs to be forced into the situation.

Question 1: Was Blitz forced to sleep with Stolas for work-related benefits?

Based on the canon of Helluva Boss, no, this is fundamentally untrue. Firstly, Stolas and Blitz only slept together when Blitz wanted to as noted before;

"He'd be all like "Oh, Blitzy, I know it's the Full Moon tonight, but you don't have to come if you don't want to, Blitzy", so I've just been taking breaks from having to plow his feathered ass into his fancy ass mattress."

Blitz's own words. He was allowed to come and go as he pleased within the arrangement dependent on his own consent and comfortability.

The second major thing with "quid pro quo" sexual harassment is that the person is threatened with some type of punishment and or consequence for not complying.

Question #2: Did Stolas ever threaten Blitz with his status or ever utilize it against him in relation to their arrangement?

Again, based on the canon of Helluva Boss there is no substantiative evidence to prove Stolas ever threatened or held his power over Blitz's head.

The narrative goes out of it's way to show us this is all Blitz's interpretation of their relationship, something that is not set in reality as displayed in how Blitz views Stolas during his Bad Trip.

While Stolas is in a position of power, he never exercises it.

On top of that, within I.M.P. Stolas is merely a resource, not a "boss" over Blitz. The companies policies, pay, and schedule are not dictated by Stolas.

Therefore, these two do not fall into the realm of criteria for this type of harassment, but I will set that aside.

Power Dynamics in Stolitz

When it comes to the power imbalances within Stolitz, I want everyone to know I understand why people feel so passionately about the dynamic these two have.

It isn't quite a boss and employee relationship, but it is someone with power being in an arrangement with someone else who doesn't have access to the same resources.

However, I need us all to remember these men are both close to their 40s and had ample time to decide whether this agreement was worth pursuing or continuing.

I ain't saying it doesn't have it's issues, but I do worry many of you are projecting your personal traumas onto these two.

Stolas is not the boss who hurt you.

Just like Blitz isn't the person who abandoned me or hurt me, hence why I can sometimes be hostile towards him.

Neither of those things should cloud our judgement and or analysis of the show.

I'm sorry for what happened to you that you feel this strongly on this topic, but your lived experiences and hurts cannot be applied to everything.

Just like my divorce related trauma is not applicable to Octavia and Stolas, your lived experiences with an awful boss are not applicable to Blitz and Stolas.

Many times within the show Blitz makes it clear this was his choice. He chose to sleep with Stolas and chose to pursue a prolonged arrangement with him.

Putting aside the circumstances of Murder Family, Stolas and Blitz had been discussing the arrangement and terms for roughly a month before Stolas proposed what he proposed.

Blitz was already planning to pursue this venture of his own free will and volition, regardless of how you want to analyze the situation. He used the grimoire that entire month and therefore, he was already planning to have something with Stolas, the terms just had not been set.

None of us were in the rooms when the terms were discussed, but conversations were had and therefore, Blitz is complicit in this arrangement, he was willingly complicit by utilizing the book and entertaining the idea with Stolas.

This is a staunch difference to a "quid pro quo" sexual harassment, and is just two adults with resources exchanging them for favors. As Stolas said it's simply favors for favors and no one is getting punished for not complying.

As much as Stolas is guilty for taking advantage of the arrangement, Blitz is just as guilty as noted by my mutual @yasmiralotta 's post Blitzø 👏 and 👏 Stolas 👏 both 👏 used 👏 eachother 👏 to get 👏 what 👏 they 👏 wanted. This essay details the way they BOTH utilized one another.

I have no desire to break it down any further than that.

Vox and Angel

Discussing Valentino and Angel is a difficult subject for me. Just due to how- graphic and explicit the situation really is. However, if people want to keep making false equivalency's between him and Stolas I will have to explain what Angel and Val's dynamic is.

As of right now, we do not know the exact terms of Angel and Val's agreement. What we do know is Valentino is Angel's boss and dictate's what Angel can and can't do on studio grounds.

We know within the show that Angel's work conditions are beyond deplorable.

Firstly, he works 16 hour shifts.

Secondly, he is physically abused for not complying with what Valentino wants.

Lastly, Angel is bound to Valentino for the rest of his afterlife. Therefore, he is under Val's control.

Angel is often physically and sexually abused for not complying with Valentino's orders.

This is the actual definition of quid pro quo sexual harassment. More specifically Angel has to perform a certain way or he gets physically harmed. Even when Val says he wants to go to the Hotel to kill Angel, Vox stops him because of the optics regarding it and offers to call in the lowest earners to supplement Val's need to kill someone;

Vox: Well, lemme call up the lowest earners this month. *walks to TVs*

Valentino: Ohh, you know me too well. *chuckles and blows smoke*

Val keeps his employees in place based on their numbers. Don't perform well? Well you're either going to be abused sexually OR killed. That is someone exercising their authority to an extreme degree.

Angel's daily life involves some type of sexual abuse.

Conclusion

I apologize for not- expanding more on Val and Angel, but I do think my point is made pretty clear.

Stolas and Val are NOT the same.

Stolas is by no means anywhere NEAR as cruel or vindictive as Valentino is.

Angel becomes paralyzed with fear if Val's even upset with him.

Blitz openly insults Stolas to his face and walks out alive.

In a room where fire is surrounding him, Angel could only worry about Val being mad at him.

In situations where Stolas needed help, Blitz was able to reject him and handle his daughter.

These are vastly different situations and therefore should be given that respect. Dislike Stolas, love him or hate him, I don't care.

However, making stuff up about Helluva Boss with no research and or analysis is actually asinine.

Amalthea out!

[rarepairs-of-911]

Rarepair Bingo 2025

It's finally here! 🥳 Rarepair Bingo is running till July 1, 2025! (But of course you can always use the cards any prompts if you’re feeling inspired! ❤️) This post includes everything you need: Cards with prompts, Rules, AO3 Collection, and a link to the Carrd! Please don't hesitate to ask if you have any questions. And like always: Have fun and share the love! ❤️

Cards

Alternate Universe Card

Angst "Bad Things Happen" Card

Fluff "Nothing hurts" Card

Kinky "NSWF" Card

Rules

- Every form of creation is welcome! (Examples: fanfic, fanart, edit, gif, headcanon, drabble...) - You reach a Bingo when you cover 5 squares/prompts in a row! (Horizontal, vertical or diagonal). The topic for the "Free" square can be picked by you!

- The main goal of the event is to have fun. There is no need to rush or stress! You can choose one card or all of them if you want to. You don't have to complete a card (or all cards!). However, there will be a little surprise for everyone who manages to blank out a complete card! ;)

- The definition of “rarepair” for this event: Every ship that is not a (main, like Bathena and Henren) canon couple or Buddie when it comes to 911onabc. Every ship that is not Tarlos when it comes to 911 Lone Star.

- Your contributions can include characters / ships from both shows. Crossovers and original characters are fine, as long as your story focuses on characters from the 911 universe!

- Tag your contributions with #911rarepairbingo so I can share your creations on tumblr!

- There will be a collection on AO3: 911_rarepair_bingo_2025

- Important: No character bashing or hate towards any ship allowed!

- Please tag your creations correctly and add trigger warnings if necessary! Be considerate!

Links

AO3 Collection: 911 Rarepair Bingo 2025

Link to Carrd

[nexus-nebulae]

That's the thing though, I'm already going to therapy. I have been since I was a teenager. Therapy can't just... magically fix all those problems I have. Talking it out with someone i only have a professional relationship with can help me identify those problems and see why I have them, but they can't just.. erase them. I might know why I'm scared, and I might know that it's most likely irrational and based on a single bad example, but that doesn't stop the little voice in the back of my head from going "but what if those fears are right this time. what if we're just putting ourselves back into the same situation all over again."

I had to relearn how to make friends, how to be friends with people, recently. And no matter how many times I talked it through with my therapist- I know most people don't necessarily automatically hate me, I know most people wouldn't use my pain against me, I know there are kind people out there- I couldn't get myself to just Do It. To just reach out to people. To try to make friends. The thing that did help? Exposing myself to the situation even though I was terrified. Finding people I knew were enough like me that I could trust them with small things, until eventually with enough talking it became comfort and knowledge that this person would not hurt me. Finally opening up about my fears to the person I feel fear about and getting real reassurance that this is not the same situation again and I do have a chance to escape that fear.

That's part of why I started this whole process in the first place- I know that if I try waiting until I'm no longer affected by those fears, then I never will. I have to start wading into the water to get used to the temperature, I can't just stand on dry land and insist that somehow standing there I'll just magically be able to dive in headfirst no issue. You know, the Do It Scared mentality. If you wait until you're not afraid, you won't do it at all.

I just kind of want someone to talk to who might be able to address these fears a little more directly than a therapist who is not Jewish and knows very little about Judaism as a whole. Who might be able to hear my experiences and tell me, okay, those specific things won't happen here, and these are things that might feel similar but are different in certain ways that will help you feel safer. I've really only just officially started the process like... a couple weeks ago- I haven't had the chance to talk to members of the community offline, and part of why I haven't is that fear- the fear that I will be rejected, that I will be scorned, that I will have done something so wrong that I will never be accepted, or even that I will be told I am accepted but will always be left on the outside of the community still. The fear that what I am as a person somehow marks me as ineligible. The fear that the reasons I was deemed a "wicked child" by the groups that harmed me will still mark me as wrong somehow no matter where I go.

Logically I know- most religious groups are not that harsh. Lots of people are religious partially because these religions DO serve as a place of community and mutual caring. This particular one is not a religion that I have ever known to be as cruel or vindictive or excluding as the one I left. I chose this for a reason, because I feel as though a lot of what I've learned about Judaism speaks to who I was as a child, reminds me of how I interpreted my ex-religion and the world as a whole back when I still believed there was good in all things. But I'm still scared. I still have a thousand things running through my mind- Will I be rejected because I am ex-christian (sort of)? Because I'm queer? Because I'm mentally ill? Will they look at me in my wheelchair and my autism headphones and see a real adult with agency? Will I even be taken seriously, or will I be laughed out of the room? Did I do something wrong in my journey so far that will make people angry at me? Am I just wrong somehow, in some fundamental way, that will take this path away from me like so many others? I don't know. And nobody I've spoken to will really try to quiet that voice in the back of my mind, just tells me that "this is irrational, you'll be fine, just do it."

Sorry to kind of. Dump some trauma on you I guess. You don't have to feel obligated to respond, or to even read this whole thing, I just feel like I need to add this in case anyone else does. To provide some context for why I feel this way, and why I made this post, I guess. I dunno. It's a lot to deal with, but I have to deal with it at some point or it will crush me like an avalanche, like so many things have before. I just can't deal with it all alone or only with people who have no connection to the situation, and I hope to find someone who is willing to reach out and take my hand, if only for a little while.

so. for A Long While now we've considered officially pursuing converting to judaism. and we've finally really started the whole research process and getting familiarized with the religion and everything and. does anyone have tips on how to feel comfortable in a new religion when you've been so harmed by specific religious groups in the past (especially when the religion you have bad history with is so close to the one you're converting to, like being another abrahamic religion)

[you-call-it-a-dude]

Just Can't Hack It Pt.2

Pt.1

Request: so this is part two to a story. The original request was reader dealing with substance use. I had a few folks wanting another part and I was feeling inspired to add a second part so I did!

Pairings: Leighton Murray x female reader

Warnings: TW!!! I would say this one is more triggering than the first. Mentions of opioid use, accidental overdose, use of narcan/naloxone, difficult discussions around the topic of addiction, needles. This is a super heavy story. Read with caution, take a step back if it's not for you. I have many other stories you can check out if you want something more light hearted. Nobody dies, but it's a pretty realistic scenario about addiction/loving someone with addiction. Could be triggering in many ways, so please be aware.

Authors Note: here I go again adding more chapters to stories I've been saying imma leave as one shots lol. This story is super depressing, I'm so sorry. If you're into that tho, welcome lol. I apologize for my lack of posting. Ive had a lot of life changes happen recently and my mental health hasn't been the greatest (maybe writing this depressing ass chapter will help). I do want to clarify, I am not a drug user. Just a social worker that reads, does research lol. Thank you all for your patience, thank you so everyone that's read my other work while waiting for me to post again. I love you all. I love you for reading, for sharing opinions and engaging in discussions with me and I love you for existing. I hope you like this next chapter

**if you have any questions regarding Narcan/Naloxone, fentanyl test strips, or anything like that, feel free to reach out**

----

You woke up with a loud gasp, some random girl rubbing circles on your sternum. You rushed to sit forward, accidentally shoving her back.

The air was flowing back into your lungs and you felt like you couldn't get it in there quick enough. Your teeth were chattering and you were in that same fucking basement DJ died in.

You grab her wrist with shaky hands and she talked to you calmly, asking you if you were okay and all you could do was shake your head no. Your chest was heaving and it felt like you were inhaling razor blades or something.

What the fuck?

"Sit up slow." She tells you, helping you sit up and you notice her hands are also shaking. "You should probably go to the emergency room." She tells you and you're confused because you don't know why.

"Did something happen?" You ask, your throat dry. You cough to clear it and when you reach forward to grab a cup of whatever off the table, you see an oddly shaped object discarded on the table. You pick it up, your hands still shaking and you run your thumb over the pink 'Narcan' written on the label "Fuck." You whisper to yourself. "Fuck, did...?" You turn your attention to her and she kind of just shrugs.

"I'm not sure honestly. Maybe? But I didn't think it could hurt. You didn't look great, like at all."

You continue to stare down at the small nasal spray, your hands still shaking like never before. You blinked hard a few times, trying to wrap your head around everything.

"I'm so sorry." You apologized to this stranger for most likely traumatizing the fuck out of her.

"Do you have someone to call? You probably need to go to the emergency room." She ignored your apology and something about that made you feel like shit.

"Emergency room? What? That stuff worked. I'm fine." You say, tossing the bottle back onto the table.

"Yeah, but it wears off in like thirty minutes, more or less." She points out.

"Wears off?!" You ask in shock and she nods at you, looking at you like you were stupid.

"And I'm not using my other one on you so I suggest you go." She said with a slight attitude, no longer giving off that friendly vibe she had before. "And maybe get your own for next time, yeah?"

"Fine, Jesus." You say, no longer feeling as indebted to her the more bitchy she got toward you.

You take a few moments to gather yourself, still feeling not the greatest. The girl next to you that potentially saved your life was now injecting something between her toes and if that wasn't enough motivation to get the fuck up and go, you don't know what is.

You grab your things and thank her again. Unsurprisingly, she doesn't say anything back.

Your legs feel weak and shaky. Getting up the stairs and out of the house took way more effort than it should've. You hated this fucking place and you felt disgusting for even coming back.

Your intention was to take an Uber to the emergency room on campus, but when you checked your bank account you were almost certain a ride request wouldn't even go through.

You physically just felt too weak to stand so you sat on the curb, knowing you were going to have to call Leighton and just fucking hated yourself for it.

You pulled out the pills you had taken from your pocket and investigated them. You got them from Liza instead of your normal dealer. She told you they would be exactly the same pills you were used to buying from Angel, just less expensive. Your lack of funds sold you on them immediately. Except now that you actually took the time to study them, you realize they looked nothing like the other ones.

You had no idea what you took.

What you do know is you took two of them at once. It was less than what you normally would've taken. You can't even remember why you decided to only take two instead of your usual four, but clearly sober you was looking out.

Well...semi-sober you.

You called Leighton and it took three tries for her to answer. She was mad at you again because you bailed on her the other night on dinner plans that you made.

"Hello?" She finally answered. You could hear laughter in the background so you knew she was out with friends or out doing something and it made you feel even worse to ask her for help.

"Hi, Leight." You say softly, pushing your fingertips into your eyes trying to build up the courage to ask her. "Can you help me, please?"

"Help you?" She sounds concerned and you hear a door close behind her, all of the noise fading away. "What's going on?"

"I need-I need, fuck!" You try, the words feeling almost impossible to get out. "I need to go to the emergency room, I think." You finally get out, blinking hard to keep your brain working.

"Emergency room? What's going on? Where are you?"

"Please, Leighton. I'm at the blue house on the edge of campus. You know the one." You rub your palm against your forehead. "Can you please just come get me."

"Yeah. I know the one." Of course she did. Everyone knows the blue fucking house. It's literally nicknamed the druggie house on campus. There's only one reason people went there. Her voice sounded monotone and she was definitely connecting some dots. "I'm coming, I'm not far away." She hangs up on you before you can even tell her goodbye and you just feel her disappointment radiating through the phone.

It was less than ten minutes when you saw a familiar car pull up.

Leighton stepped out of the passenger side and as soon as the door closed, the window was rolling down to reveal Whitney in the drivers seat.

"Are you kidding me, Leighton." You complained as she rushed over to help you.

"Shut up." Whitney said from the driver's side, rolling her eyes at you.

"Fuck you!" You spat at her, letting Leighton help pull you to your feet.

"No, fuck you! What the hell is wrong with you?" You stayed silent because you didn't have an answer to her question. "That's what I fucking thought. Now get in the car."

Leighton sat in the back with you, letting you lay your head on her lap. She hasn't said a single word to you since she picked you up and you don't know if it was the drugs or the anxiety caused by her silence that was making your heart race the way it was.

Your body was sore and your head ached. You turned so you could bury your face in her sweater, inhaling the smell of her. She massaged your scalp, pulling you closer to her body.

Whitney dropped you both off at the front door and said to call her when you needed to be picked up. She sounded a lot nicer now, but she was also talking to Leighton.

You weren't feeling great at all and you definitely had the fear that whatever dosage that girl gave you was wearing off and you were going to die in the waiting room of this fucking hospital.

Leighton helped bring you to the front desk. You declined her offer of a wheelchair because something about that just felt degrading. Having to have her push you because of something you did to yourself?

Falling to the ground and crawling would be less embarrassing.

The woman at the desk greeted you and asked what was going on and you hesitated. Because even though Leighton probably figured shit out by now, you never said it out loud.

Saying it out loud would finally be admitting that you had a problem, which is why you've avoided it for so long.

"I-um-I-" both Leighton and the lady at the desk with the patience of a saint watch you fiddle nervously with the pen attached to a chain. "I am not feeling too great. I was given narcan maybe thirty minutes ago." You were blinking rapidly trying to get through your sentence, the fluorescent lighting and the pounding headache was making your brain short circuit.

The lady at the desk sat up quickly, asking you for your ID and insurance card, asking someone behind her to call for a nurse. You pulled your wallet from your pocket and Leighton had to help you pull the cards out because your hands were shaking and you just couldn't do it.

A male nurse appeared out of nowhere with a rolling blood pressure cuff and asked you to follow him to the triage area.

"What about my stuff?" You ask, letting this man escort you to a little area.

"I've got it, baby." Leighton said calmly, a few steps behind you, shoving your ID back into your wallet that she was still holding.

You sat down in a chair with your feet planted firmly on the floor like instructed and you felt like this firm wooden chair was consuming you.

He slipped the blood pressure cuff on your arm, the stethoscope planted firmly in the center of your arm. His eyes never left you while he asked you some questions.

"Do you know how many doses of the narcan you received?"

"Just one." You say and he nods.

"What did you take?" He asks, making eye contact with you and waiting for your response.

You swallowed and looked up at Leighton, who was waiting at you expectantly to answer.

"I don't know. It wasn't from my usual person. My friend that got it for me said it would be the same and it wasn't. I took less than what I normally would." You admit and it sounds embarrassing to even say something like that. You just hope he doesn't ask you-

"How much do you normally take? How much did you take of these?"

"Um, four to five 10mg Percocet. I only took two of these."

"Okay." He nods and the machine starts to beep. He removes the cuff from your arm and motions to someone behind you. "We are going to take you back now, okay? Your blood pressure is too low." He said while he and Leighton help you stand up and you were mortified to find them leading you to a wheelchair.

"Yeah, okay." You nod and when you sit you look back between Leighton and the nurse with a panicked expression. "Can she come back with me?"

"Of course." He takes hold of the wheelchair and takes you to a double door, pressing the button and leading you and Leighton through a maze of curtained rooms before bringing you to an open bed.

As soon as your butt hit that bed, two nurses were rushing in one was hooking you up to different machines and pulling down your shirt to stick electrodes on your chest to monitor your heart.

Before you could even process anything, your bed was being lowered and you were laying flat on your back and the second nurse was giving you a second dose of narcan up your nostrils while the first nurse finally explained to you and Leighton what the fuck was going on.

She said that narcan is usually done in two or more doses and that it often wears off before the effects of the pills do. That because you only received one dose, you were already showing the signs of the first dose wearing off and going into another potential overdose.

You didn't even have time to panic or freak out. They had the narcan up your nose and had you sitting back up like it never even happened. Leighton nodding with wide eyes from the chair next to you and trying to absorb what the nurse was saying.

You gripped the bridge of your nose and squinted your eyes while the nurse finished speaking, already starting to feel better.

"We are going to keep you here for a couple of hours just for monitoring." She rolls a little tray over to your bed that has a needle, test tubes, and a tourniquet. All the makings for getting your blood drawn. "We are required to do a toxicology screening on you, especially since you do not know what you took." She slips on a new pair of gloves. "These results will not be shared with the university." She reassured when she saw your face drop. "Arm out."

She cleaned your arm with an alcohol pad and tied the elastic tourniquet around your arm, pressing on your veins to find a vein. She inserts the needle in your arm and you watch the multiple vials fill up. She removes the tourniquet, has you hold a cotton ball where the needle went in and slaps a bandaid over it. She cleans up the area and says she'll be back shortly and walks out without saying another word.

Leighton had been silent the entire time. She was holding your things and sitting on the chair next to your bed watching the monitor with all off your vitals. Her eyes looked glassed over and you didn't know what to say or how to even begin to say it.

"Thanks for coming with me." You say pitifully and her eyes dart from the monitor to look over at you.

"I feel so stupid." She says, shaking her head. "Everything is like, making sense now, you know? The missed dates, the weird behavior, the angry outbursts." She nods her head, almost like she was agreeing with her own thoughts.

"I'm so sorry."

"And then you take shit that you don't even know what it is and- and you fucking overdose? What if you fucking died, Y/N?" She sounds so angry, but you can see she's on the verge of tears. You reach for her, touching her arm and she yanks herself away from you. "Don't fucking touch me."

"Then fucking go if you don't want to stay." You say, staring up at the ceiling, blinking back tears.

"Stop."

"I should've just let myself die on the curb of that stupid fucking house." You slammed your head against the pillow, the machines beeping like crazy for a brief moment.

"Can you just shut the fuck up with that self deprecating shit?" She spits, crossing her arms and legs.

She's very closed off and distant now. It almost felt like you could feel her distancing herself from you in real time. There's an awkward silence between the two of you and you reach for her.

"Leighton..."

"Mmmh mmmh." She shakes her head no, keeping her attention focused on her phone

"Baby." You try again and when her fingers pause over the phone screen you know you're getting somewhere. "Please, baby."

She rolls her eyes and sighs, giving you her attention.

"What."

"I'm really sorry." You say sincerely, playing with the edge of the flimsy hospital blanket.

"For...?" There was no hint of emotion to her voice. But in scenarios like this, Leighton was always good at shutting down and putting her walls up.

"For how I've been treating you. For a lot of things."

"If that's all you're going to say, that's a really shitty fucking apology."

"No! Of course that's not all. I-fuck. Okay. Just give me a second to collect my thoughts."

"Well, maybe if you weren't high on god knows what you'd be able to give me a less pathetic apology."

Maybe it was your high wearing off, maybe it was just the drugs in general, but man for the briefest moment you wanted to cuss her out.

You clench your jaw and exhale through your nose in an attempt to remain calm.

"If you let me fucking finish talking maybe you'll be more than the pathetic apology." You say through gritted teeth and she just raises her eyebrows at you expectantly. "I fucked up, okay? I know that. I didn't mean for it to get this bad." You admit and she tilts her head, her gaze visibly softening.

"What do you mean?" She scoots the hospital chair closer to your bed.

"I got the meds originally when I messed up my knee. It freaked me out about if I would get to play again or not. When I got back into it, it was great, but I fucking sucked and there was this insane amount of pressure to be as good as I was before my injury. There still is that pressure. My knee just felt tight all the time. Like it was about to snap at any moment. I did the physical therapy, the ice baths, I did everything. Well, everything but admit that maybe it's just straight up fucked." You look down and begin to pick at on your fingertips. Leighton reaches forward to stop you and instead you press your thumb against one of her manicured nails, enjoying the feeling of the pinpricking pressure against your fingertip.

"Keep going, baby." She encourages softly and you could feel yourself relax.

"I refilled my final prescription for my meds right before I started playing again. I would ration the bottle and take them after games and stuff. Then I took them during a game and realized I could play pretty damn good and my leg felt fantastic. Well, until afterwards when it felt worse than ever. Turns out if you take meds to prevent pain, it's really difficult to gauge when you're pushing yourself too far. So I would take some meds before the game, during the game, then again after the games..." Leighton opens her mouth to speak, but you continue with your thought. "...And then one or two more before bed."

"Jesus Christ, Y/N." She says, sounding both shocked and horrified. "I don't even...how long-how many? I don't know! I'm trying not to ask my question without sounding like a dick." She admits and looks to you for some guidance.

You don't know her exact question, but you can guess where she was going with it.

"It was supposed to be refill that lasted three months and finished it in like a month. Maybe a month in a half if I want to be generous. They were a low-ish doses, so I would take more."

"How many were you supposed to take a day? How many did you take?" She asked her questions in a quick succession.

"I was supposed to take one, max two, a day." She nodded and raised her eyebrows expectantly. "I was taking like four to six."

"I-what?! You know what," she takes a deep breath to calm herself down. "Let me approach this in a non-judgmental way. I just, I really want to know what happened to escalate the situation and bring us where we are now." She squeezes your hand reassuringly.

"So my prescription runs out and I find a connect when I go to one of the parties at the blue house. I got pills from him for a while, but you would not believe how expensive opioids are." You tried to joke, only when you looked up to see Leighton was not laughing, not even cracking a smile, you quickly cleared your throat and got serious. "After DJ died in the house, I starting using more and it was just getting more expe-"

"Wait what? The guy that overdosed in the house, you were his friend?"

"I, well, yes. But I was also...there. I called the ambulance when I found him." You could feel everything else coming out like word vomit. "I introduced him to Liza, who introduced him to drugs." You clenched your jaw, trying to swallow down the breakdown you've been keeping at bay for over a month now. "I killed him, Leighton. It's my fault he's dead." You look up at her tearfully and when Leighton frowns and calls you 'baby', you fucking lose it.

She stands up and pulls your face from your hands. The machines attached to you are beeping rapidly for who knows what fucking reason and it was pissing you off.

"Get these off of me." You say mid sob, attempting to pull the electrodes of your chest, yanking at the wires and your shirt blindly. "Get these fucking off!"

Leighton was fighting your arms at this point, doing her best to keep your arms still. Your brain could comprehend that you were smacking her unintentionally, hitting her arms, her hands, and her chest. You felt like your body was stuck between fight and flight right now. You felt out of control in every aspect, mentally and physically. You wanted to stop, you wanted to calm down, you just literally could not.

Within seconds two nurses came in and Leighton held your arms until one of the nurses took her place. Her absence felt more upsetting and agitating, so you attempted to reach for her. Your throat felt raw from crying and now you were screaming for Leighton, begging her to help you.

You gripped a nurses arm tightly, your face smushed against her scrubs while you watched Leighton's horrified expression as the two nurses turned you on your side. One of them pulled your pants down on one side and inject a tranquilizer into your ass cheek.

You gasped and squeezed the nurses arm, mortified about what happened and that it happened in front of Leighton. You were also both shocked and impressed at how quickly your heart rate was going down.

You also felt absolutely terrible for the tears and snot you were getting on this poor nurse's scrubs. Going back and forth between pitifully apologizing to her and to Leighton while the meds kicked in.

You could feel your arms getting heavy and the nurses began to lay you on your back again. The one you were gripping for dear life was covering you with a blanket and you can over hear the one that injected your ass trying to talk Leighton through what she just witnessed.

Something about it being normal behavior when coming off a lot of drugs so suddenly. You don't fucking know.

What you do know is Leighton looked pale and traumatized and that it was absolutely your fucking fault.

You reached for her. Desperately trying to tell her that you loved her. That you're in love with her and that you were so fucking sorry.

She looked at you confused, holding your hand and telling you she couldn't understand what you were saying. You could feel yourself getting riled up mentally, but your body felt stuck. Like gum to the bottom of a fucking shoe you were stuck and locked into this bed.

The nurses left and she pulled her chair close to your bed again, her hand never letting go of yours while she did. She sat in front of you, calling you baby, pushing hair from your face, and telling you that it was okay and to just close your eyes for a little bit.

You moaned and whined, tears sliding down your cheeks. They matched the ones streaming down Leighton's and you wanted you kiss them away. Instead she wiped your tears and begged you not to cry, her lips pressed against the side of your head.

You closed your eyes, Leighton's lips against your temple while she whispered calming things in your ear.

---

You woke up confused. You had a hospital gown on over your shirt and pants, and you were also pretty sure you were in a different room.

"Water?" You croak, your mouth dryer than nothing you have ever experienced before.

"Here." Came a voice next to you that was most definitely not Leighton.

You turn your head to the side to see Whitney holding a styrofoam cup with a straw and you push yourself to sit up straight, blinking and wiping away the dried up tears and sleep gunk from your eyes.

You hesitate at first, but you take the cup from her. You drink the cool ice water down like your life depended on it.

"Thank you." You tell her when you finished drinking, breathing heavily like a toddler after they downed some juice. You look around the room for any signs of Leighton, finding none. You try not to panic, but the machine measuring your hate rate gives you away.

"She'll be back. I sent her home a bit ago to change into different clothes and get something to eat." Whitney informs you, setting the water on the little table. She stands up and goes to the sink, wetting a small stack of those thin paper towels with warm water and wiping your face and mouth. You could feel your dried spit and snot come off with ease. You closed your eyes while she wiped your face, too tired to feel embarrassed. "Better?" She asks you, patting your face with a dry paper towel when she was done.

You nod your head yes, settling further into the bed.

"How long was I out?" You stare at the analog clock on the wall, but it doesn't help much since you didn't even know the time you came in or were knocked out at.

"Maybe seven hours? It's been a while. They said it could range from like six to twelve hours." You nod, staring at your covered feet. You can feel yourself checking out mentally, but Whitney talking again brings you back to earth. "Leighton filled me in, I hope that's okay."

"Mhmm, yeah." You shrugged and nodded, trying to hide your shame over the fact that another person knows this about you now.

"Why didn't you say anything to anyone?" She was soft with her approach, but there was a thin layer of assertiveness underneath.

"Well, Whitney, the thing about having a drug problem is you don't really fucking realize you have a drug problem until you end up in a hospital and get a needle shoved into your ass cheek. Or, maybe it's when a girl that injects meth between her toes gets pissy for using her Narcan on you. Gee, I just can't decide." You say sarcastically and Whitney's face hardens slightly.

"Okay, I get it." She says defensively, sitting back in the chair to lean away from you. You sigh and attempt to run a hand through your hair, but it's all matted and sweaty.

"Sorry, I'm sorry." You say quietly. "I thought I had a handle on it, okay? I didn't think it was a problem." You admit, nodding your head as you thought to yourself. "Clearly." You vaguely gesture to yourself laid up in a hospital bed and Whitney nods.

"Everything is starting to make sense though. Your behaviors, your angry outbursts, the way you treated Leighton."

You wince at that last one. You treated her horribly the last like eight months and you knew that.

It was such a weird feeling. To love someone so deeply and be unable to stop yourself from absolutely wrecking them and treating them like shit.

"Yeah, I've been told already things are adding up. Glad I could provide some clarity." You give her a tight lipped smile and a weak thumbs up.

"You're awake!"

You look up to see Leighton coming into the room, a little visitor badge pinned to her hoodie. You nod, looking up at her with a smile. Your eyes start to water, something about seeing her just hitting you with the overwhelming urge to cry because you were so fucking happy she came back.

You open your arms for her and she sets her purse down to rush to your side and give you a hug. You wrap your arms around her and hold her tightly, pressing your lips wherever you could.

A knock at the door caused her to pull away. She took the extra seat on the other side of your bed as the doctor came in and greeted you, washing his hands.

He did an overall exam on you. Checked your mouth, your eyes, listening to your heart and lungs. He pulled his stool up to your bed and rested a folder of paperwork by your feet.

"So, we got your blood results back. It's routine to drug test in these situations. The school will not be informed of the results." He reassured you like the nurse did previously. "Now," he opens the packet of papers to a specific page where numbers are highlighted. "You have a decent amount in your system. I'm sure that's something you're aware of." You nod and he continues. "We do not think you overdosed on the pills themselves. Not to say that means you should go out and keep slamming them back."

The three of you made a face at him, unsure if his comment was meant to lighten the mood or if he was just a dick.

"So what's the problem then?" Whitney speaks up and he clears his throat.

"Well, you have a dangerous amount of fentanyl in your system. Whatever you took was most likely laced. Had you taken the four pills you said you normally took, you would probably be dead. Here are some packets about fentanyl as well as some inpatient and outpatient treatments for opioid addiction, and some information about methadone." He sets about five pamphlets in the open space between your legs and stands up, pushing his chair back in. "The nurse is going to come in with your discharge paperwork. Schedule an appointment with your PCP. Have a good day ladies." He sanitizes his hands and leaves the room, leaving the three of you looking confused and dumbfounded.

"That was it?" Leighton asks after he leaves, clearly frustrated. She reaches forward and grabs the pamphlets off your legs and thumbs through them furiously. "You almost fucking die apparently and that's it? You go the fuck home? What the fuck."

"Leighton, please stop." You say calmly, but she was pacing the room now while she read.

"This methadone seems good. I can call my dad and get you into a good rehab. Inpatient or out." She says while reading through the pamphlets and you start feeling overwhelmed.

Of course you wanted to be better and to stop taking the pills.

But the thought of actually doing it scared the shit out of you.

"Can I please just go home first and figure this out later?" You ask, scratching your eyebrow.

"Yes," Whitney says and looks up and Leighton sternly. "Yes, you can." She says, answering for Leighton.

"I have one request." Leighton says, shoving the pamphlets into her purse before sitting at the edge of your bed. "Please stay with us for a bit. A few days, a week. However long. Just please do it, okay?"

You nodded your head. You knew you scared her, no, fucking traumatized her. She was looking at you right now like she wanted to cry. Like if you told her no she would probably burst into tears.

You couldn't tell her no. You couldn't do this to her again. You definitely couldn't do anything to risk losing her.

"Yes, I'll stay with you. Can I stop at my room at get some clothes?"

"Absolutely. Can I go in with you when you do?"

You hesitated. You thought about the state of your side of the room. You definitely weren't as clean as you used to be. You most definitely had been slacking on doing your laundry and the thought of her going in there and seeing your gross, crusty underwear made you want to flip.

You still agreed though and she kissed your cheek. She went to kiss your lips and you turned your head.

"My mouth feels disgusting. More kissing later?"

"Deal." She nods, sneaking a quick peck onto your lips anyway.

There was a knock on the door and a nurse stepped in holding some paperwork.

"Alrighty, Y/N. Let's get you outta here, hun."

---

You rushed into your dorm, quickly picking up dirty clothes from the floor and tossing them in your hamper, picking up trash and shoving it aside.

"Sorry, I'm sorry." You apologize profusely for the state of your room.

"No, don't. It's okay." Leighton says, taking in the space.

She hadn't been allowed into your room for a while. Usually when she would come over it would be spotless and smell like air fresher. It was a complete 180 from what she was used to.

You could almost see her absorbing in the gravity of your addiction. As if almost OD'ing on laced pills, blowing off her dates, and having frequent mood swings weren't enough. She was getting a first hand view of how little you had been taking care of yourself because of it.

Something about that felt more shameful than anything. You felt vulnerable and exposed. You had been caught putting on a show and now all the curtains were being pulled back to expose the complex layers of your addiction. Exposing problems that you didn't even realize were becoming problems until someone you love is watching you scramble to clean it up.

"I just need to get some clean clothes." You say, opening your drawers and finding them to be pretty bare. "Fuck." You whisper to yourself.

"Why don't you bring some dirty clothes with you and we can do laundry at my dorm. Okay, baby?"

"Um, y-yeah." You blink hard, slamming your drawer shut. You open another and are thankful to find a handful of clean underwear. You pull them out and shove them into the bag Leighton had set on your bed. "Can you get me some shirts from my closet? I'll gather my dirty clothes."

"Of course." She turns around to look through your closet.

You grabbed a garbage bag and began picking clothes off the floor, plucking clothes from your hamper and other various surfaces around the room, shoving them into the trash bag. When a bunch of change falls out of one of your pockets you sigh, going back into the bag and digging through the pockets of any pants and shorts you shoved in there to make sure those were empty before you continued.

You picked up a pair of sweatpants, digging your hand into the pocket and freezing when you felt something sharp-ish poke your fingertips.

It was almost like you could hear angels singing when you pull the item from your pocket. A small baggie with three little blue pills in it. Three pills that you most definitely recognized and knew they would be safe. You traced your thumb over them, licking your lips.

"Do you want this sweater, babe?" Leighton asks from the closet behind you and you briefly turn around to face her.

"Yes, that's perfect, baby." You tell her. You weren't even looking at the sweater.

You had look at her face. Feeling guilty about everything that went down. Feeling guilty about all the time and energy she was probably going to put in to taking care of you.

You knew the best thing to do right now would be to hand the pills over. It would be the responsible thing.

You wanted to be responsible.

You grip the small baggie in your hand tightly and scratch under your nose with the back of your hand, thinking of the way you were going to hand the baggie over.

You open your palm again to stare at the pills, your hand shaking. You look around the room one more time, turning to smile at Leighton while she had a few shirts and sweaters draped over her arm for you.

You wanted to be responsible, just maybe not today.

You clear your throat, shoving the pills into the deepest corner of your front pocket.

[cappulcino]

hi!! saw your requests were open!! I dont have anything super specific in mind but an enemies to lovers plot with a lucifer x angel reader would be very cool!

Sure! I was originally going to write the whole thing and post it as a one-shot here, but I got overexcited with this idea and couldn't resist turning this into multiple short chapters and already giving you the first one (idk, let me know if you'd rather have the whole thing when it's done).

Seven Days Til Fall (Part 1)

Part 1 – Part 2 – Part 3 – Part 4 – Part 5 – Part 6 – Part 7

Read on AO3

Words: 2,185

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader

Summary: You're an angel sent on a divine mission to retrieve a powerful relic that has been stolen from Heaven. The orders are clear: gain an audience with the Devil, make deals with them if necessary, anything to return that object to the Silver City. But Hell is not quite what you expected, and neither is Lucifer.

Trigger warnings: None in this chapter (let me know if you think I should add some)

In the beginning, this assembly had seemed no different from the other monotonous celestial meetings the Divine Council liked to conduct. The session was strictly organised and full of unnecessary details, as per usual, golden light shone through the large windows, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the Silver City –routine, in short.

But now the Archangel Michael was calling your name, and you weren't so sure this would be your typical angelic meeting any more. Nobody ever called your name, it wasn't among those that mattered. Why was he calling your name?

Straightening your slouched back and wings, you answered with uncertainty. "Y-Yes?"

Michael offered a fake smile before returning to his bureaucratic demeanour, his hands joined only by the fingertips on the table.

"As you know, the Cup of Eternal Grace has been missing for quite some time now."

"The… Cup of Eternal Grace. Missing. Yes."

You had forgotten about that –your mind had surely deemed that to be another 'unnecessary detail' from one of the previous assemblies. But it was coming back to you now. The chalice, made of celestial metals and inlaid with precious stones had the power to bestow divine grace upon those who drank from it, offering visions, blessings, and, for humans, even limited immortality. And indeed, the artefact had been lost for a while.

Michael's eyes narrowed at your hesitation, but he continued.

"One of our emissaries on Earth had found a lead on the Cup tracing back to some… obscure cult. Unfortunately, by the time he got there, the humans had traded with a demon –they do like to do this for a reason that escapes me. We now have cause to believe the Cup is in Hell."

"I see," you said slowly after a short silence. You weren't sure why this had anything to do with you.

"Its presence in Hell could easily disrupt order or worse, be used to bargain with divine entities. It cannot stay there. We need someone to retrieve it," Michael replied as if annoyed to have to spell out the evidence for you.

Ah, now you understood.

"Me?"

"Yes. You."

That Heaven could have so foolishly lost an object that had the potential to tip the balance of the entire universe when in the wrong hands was already astonishing to you. But to entrust you with the task of going to Hell, assuredly face its ruler, and retrieve the Cup? That was hardly believable, and for an angel like you, who had to Believe, that said something. Why didn't Michael go himself?

"I… don't understand. I'm merely a Dominion, and the Morningstar is Your sibling, Your Grace."

"Yes, so that's your job."

That was Gabriel talking down to you as if you had just uttered the most unintelligent thing in front of the whole congregation.

"Besides, we're not going to waste our time when others have been designated for that kind of risky stuff. That would be…" He let out an inelegant snort-laugh.

"What Gabriel means," Uriel intervened in their usual soft-spoken voice, "is that angels among the higher ranks have other matters to attend to, but we cannot ask this of anyone with lesser powers. And well, it is your function to execute divine orders." Uriel paused, scrutinizing your expression. "Would we be making a mistake by putting our faith in you?"

You gulped.

"N-No."

"Good."

Plans had been made, and you were now approaching the gates of Hell. Protocol required that you banged a sort of gong by the entrance, and a dead mortal fused into the wall handed you a mallet. You had read somewhere once that the Damned made Hell what it was. At the time, you hadn't understood that meant this realm was literally made of the Damned. You winced and then, forcing the politeness out of your angelic mouth with a small "Thank you", you grabbed the tool.

The gong's echo made the other souls trapped around the gates scream and then, accompanying heavy steps, a deep voice growled.

"There's one at the door. At the gate of damnation. Is it thief, thug or–"

Squatterbloat, the gatekeeper suddenly froze in his speech when his gaze landed upon you. An angel, in Hell. Quite the unusual sight.

"Whore?"

"Peace be upon you, demon."

As you uttered them, you realised how ironic your words sounded. Squatterbloat chuckled.

"We don't accept holy brochures."

His sense of humour compensated for his dreadful looks, and you managed to stop your wings from shuddering.

"That is not why I'm here."

"Then state that business of yours."

"I seek an audience with your sovereign."

"Do you now, little cloud-hopper? I fear the Devil doesn't have time for your affairs."

You approached the gate, your wings spreading in a foolish attempt to appear menacing, your tone still polite but steely.

"I am an envoy of Heaven, and the matter is urgent. Even you cannot go against God's will, demon. Take me to your master."

Squatterbloat's eyes remained fixated on yours for an instant, and then, his keys jangled.

"Mmh. Right this way… If you dare."

"Oh, what a joyous day," Lucifer purred with a faint smile before relaxing on their throne with a sigh. "Can you feel it, Mazikeen? The innocence? So pure."

"Shall I ask for more guards to stand by Your side?"

"That will not be necessary. That little angel is no threat to Us."

You were certain the ruler of Hell had sensed your arrival –how could they not?– and your suspicions were immediately confirmed when you entered the room. Sitting regally on their throne, the Lightbringer did not even bat an eye as they eyed you and the heavenly glow that surrounded your body. If anything, they seemed… amused.

You had heard many stories about them –though most of those tales still spoke of a Samael– but you had never seen them. Imagery was forbidden in Heaven, of the Devil more than anyone else, and you had never been down to Earth to look at the various depictions humans had made of them either. Therefore, you took a moment to marvel at their appearance, so foreign and yet so familiar, and as your gaze roamed over their leathery wings, you wondered if that was what became of angels' wings after the Fall.

In fact, you wondered about so many things at once that you almost forgot your manners. But Mazikeen's insistent look quickly pulled you out of your reverie.

"Uh, yes. Apologies. Peace be upon You, Lucifer Morningstar," you greeted with a slight bow of your head. "And upon you, Mazikeen of the Lillim." It sounded even sillier than when you had said it to Squatterbloat.

Lucifer let out a small chuckle then and exchanged looks with Mazikeen. Then, as they turned to face you again, they smiled.

"It is unusual for Our Father to send His subjects down here. Almost an event, We might say. To what do We owe the pleasure?"

Lucifer's words dripped from their mouth like honey, and you weren't sure whether you found it more captivating or terrifying.

"Well?"

You shook your head and straightened your back some more to give yourself a semblance of presence, and undertook to explain why Michael had sent you here.

"Our dear brother has never liked getting his pristine hands dirty," Lucifer remarked once you were done.

They stood up, took a few slow steps in your direction with a thoughtful expression, and then stopped a mere yard away from you. The way they towered over you and the power they radiated felt overwhelming, and a shiver ran through the feathers of your wings.

"It is not a task fit for his rank," you said. And for a brief moment, you almost convinced yourself of what Gabriel had told you earlier today. Almost.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow as if seeing right through you and perfectly understanding the lack of conviction in your own words. A doubtful angel. Oh, this day could not get any better.

"Tell Us," they said, now pacing through their throne room. "What do We gain from helping you?"

The question startled you. What did the Devil gain from obeying God for once? Not another divine punishment, that's what.

"Excuse me?"

"We said, what do We gain from helping you with your task? We sure hope you did not come all the way to Our domain expecting a pretty smile to be sufficient to convince Us."

That… serpent. You clenched your jaw, resisting a sudden urge to speak from your heart while Lucifer kept on smirking devilishly.

Taking a deep breath, you chose to show yourself open to discussion instead.

"What is it You wish for, Lightbringer?"

Lucifer pretended to think about it, gazing into the vastness of their realm, and then spoke firmly.

"A single visit to the Silver City."

Your heart stopped.

"And open the gates for You to terrorise us or attack the Creator? Absolutely not."

"Then forget about the chalice."

"The Morningstar may believe angels are foolish, naive creatures, but I assure You I'm not that stupid."

Your defiance intrigued Lucifer, who gauged you for a second.

"No…" they eventually said. "Indeed. Which is why We are fairly certain you will know how to convince the Divine Council. Tell them We have no intentions of wreaking havoc in their home if that is what they are so worried about."

"Then why?" you asked somewhat harshly.

"You would not understand."

"Your Majesty, I–"

"There will be no need for further discussion, little angel. Either you manage to get Us what We want and We will do everything in Our power to help you, or the Cup of Eternal Grace remains in Hell. In which case, do not even bother coming back."

"They said what?"

"The Morningstar wishes to be able to visit the Silver City, Your Grace. Just once."

You were now standing in the bright room where the heavenly meeting that had got you sent to Hell had been held a few hours ago, alone in front of the five members of the Divine Council. You felt small, but not as small as you had felt in front of the ruler of Hell.

"Yes, we heard that part," Azrael replied rather angrily.

Somehow, their tone managed to make you feel as if you had already failed your mission, and it took a lot of self-persuasion to stand your ground. You were only repeating what you had been told, after all.

"They, uh…" You cleared your throat and tried again. "They said they had no intentions of attacking Heaven, and I think their words were genuine."

"Hello, this is Satan we're talking about," Gabriel said, exaggerating their diction as if you were mentally impaired.

"My sibling does not lie, Gabriel," Michael reminded him. The other Archangel sighed. "If you will excuse us, the Council needs to consider Lucifer's offer."

Taking the hint, you bowed and promptly left the room to find refuge in the closest chapel. Once there, you dropped to your knees for the Almighty and clasped your trembling hands so tight your knuckles turned white.

"Forgive me Father for I have sinned…"

You started repenting because you couldn't help but feel as if it would be your fault if Heaven ended up needing to make a deal with the Devil. You should have resisted and told Lucifer that they deserved their banishment from the Silver City and that never would they be welcome here again. You should have fought them if needed, though you would have been doomed. You would have died a martyr at least, and maybe for once your name would have mattered in Heaven. But you hadn't.

Deep down, you also prayed for the Council to give up on the Cup of Eternal Grace. Hell was a terrible place, and Lucifer a dangerous monster, your sworn enemy. You didn't want to go back to Hell. Not for a stupid goblet.

But as soon as you came out of the chapel, Gabriel was standing in front of you, his hands behind his back. As God's messenger, you knew he was here to pass on the Divine Council's decision.

"So. We have deliberated and we want you to carry on with the mission. You will go down to Hell every day, do whatever you need to do, and come back up every evening to report before compline until you find the Cup. Okay?"

You opened your mouth to answer but only managed a weak, strangled sound. Gabriel didn't give you enough time to speak anyway.

"Great!" he exclaimed as he slapped your shoulder. Then he pointed at the chapel. "Is this free?" Again, you tried to answer, but he was already gone.

Feeling an irrational anger rising inside, you decided you needed a break, some time alone spent in silence, not even in prayer. Angels, like other immortal beings, didn't need to sleep, but you wanted to forget about the world for a while. So you flew back to the Dominions' quarters to lay on your soft bed.

And there was evening, and there was morning –the first day.

[writing-for-life]

I’m running a Sandman blog. As such, I feel I can’t not say anything, but I’ll make this short (for me):

I believe victims. I work with them almost every day. My trust in the legal system on these matters is therefore also limited and a complicated affair. I unequivocally believe that the sexual assault allegations against Neil Gaiman are true. Having said this, I will withhold further commentary as the situation unfolds, because it’s too complex.

I also believe that stories have meaning to us that goes beyond their creators, and that meaning doesn’t suddenly fall away because of their creators’ actions, although it can, and that’s also okay.

Our feelings are allowed to be complicated, and no one deserves any type of harassment because they still love a story while simultaneously grappling with feelings of anger, disgust or simply sadness towards or about its creator. Neither does anyone deserve any hard feelings because they decide they don’t want to engage anymore.

Our feelings are our own, and we don’t have to justify them to anyone.

Fandoms exist because of story and community. And those stories and communities don’t suddenly stop existing, so I hope we can remember to treat each other with respect and empathy moving on from here.

Edit:

On a more constructive note, and also speaking as someone with both personal and continuous secondhand experience of SA who already sees the damage caused by unreflective knee-jerk posting on here:

You don’t have to make repeated public statements to disassociate yourself from works. Once is enough if you feel you have something to communicate to your followers. Not at all is enough, too. Simply do what you need to do. It’s enough if you know what you stand for, and to act accordingly.

Get your information from original sources, not “summaries” and hearsay on Tumblr. The amount of misinformation, both accidental and malicious, I have seen on here is shocking. All podcasts are freely available with transcripts (edited to add the Vulture article, which is the best piece of reporting so far. But please be careful if you decide to read, it is extremely distressing and comes with trigger warnings in the tags). Stop believing the people who tell you otherwise, because they either don’t know what they’re talking about, or they aim to control the discussion for their own agenda. If you want to partake in discussion, get info from the source, because that’s truly something you owe to the victims. Otherwise, consider to withhold your opinions. We don’t have to add to the noise, there’s enough of it already, and it somewhat disqualifies itself if it adds its own agenda: This is not about LGBTQ+ issues or whether you deem an outlet trustworthy (it’s about the victims). It is not about your own opinions about kink (it’s about the victims). It is not about your disabilities or struggles that render you “unable to listen or read”. It is about the victims, not about you. So consider to stop centering yourself.

You are not a bad person for enjoying the work of a person who did wrong, neither does condemning them automatically make you a good person. How you behave towards your fellow human beings does. So if you feel tempted to judge, or even harass, other people for their love of a piece of media, take a breath first. Because in that moment, it has stopped being about the victims—it has become about centering yourself as righteous.

Don’t read into works, but don’t pretend they exist in a vacuum either. We can’t truly separate the art from the artist, but we can (re)assign meaning unique to us. The moment you interpret a piece of art, it reflects you. It will mirror back your feelings and worldview. If all you feel while engaging is negative, it is time to disengage. There is enough art in the world you can enjoy. But don’t judge those who still find meaning even if you don’t.

Take action in the real world, and step back from online discourse. Put your money where your mouth is, donate to women’s shelters or volunteer, organise fundraisers. In short: Make a difference where you can. Online opinion pieces are not that place, neither is keeping yourself in a state of constant aggravation by obsessively checking the tags. All it does it make you unwell.

Don’t support the creator financially. I know I won’t from here onwards, especially where there is a clear divide between his work and that of others: The creator credit for The Sandman also belongs to Mike Dringenberg and Sam Kieth, as you can see on literally every Sandman-related published work. And the intellectual property belongs to DC/Warner since it was work for hire. The Sandman was never creator-owned and still isn’t. Gaiman himself has confirmed he receives author royalties for The Sandman, however, so please take this into consideration before you think about purchasing new (merchandise and other media, both audio and visual, are entirely different topics and too complex to go into in detail here). Secondhand books are an option, so are libraries (although the latter sometimes pay royalties to the author until they reach a cap. This is true for the UK via the PLR scheme, but not for the US, so you need to research yourself how libraries handle this in your country). They’re everywhere, and eBay is your friend in that case. You can also still read and enjoy the works you own, it doesn’t harm anyone. You don’t have to bin, burn or sell them. If that feels right though, go for it. It’s your choice, but don’t expect others to make the same choices.

Most importantly: You have nothing to prove to anyone. You know who you are, that’s all that matters. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

[someonehasgiventheratsapen]

Okay, I probably should've made this awhile ago, but I forgot,,,

So anyways, welcome to my blog!!

Uuuh call me the Rats for now, I might update that later.

I post mainly fanart, sometimes original art. I'm a traditional artist. I'm in a lot of fandoms right now and I draw for a buncha different stuff, but I mainly draw bungo stray dogs fanart (I'm kinda hyperfixated on soukoku rn).

(I do more serious drawings too, but these ones bring me joy so I thought I'd add them :] )

Uuh some stuff about me. I'm 18. I'm autistic, trans (they/he pronouns but honestly im fine with any that aren't feminine), and demiromantic demisexual/asexual (still kinda figuring that out).

I do draw some stuff that might be triggering for some people but I always tag anything I think might need a trigger warning. Please message me if I forget something. I don't really post anything NSFW.

Oh, I'm also working on writing a book rn, so I might occasionally post stuff about that.

Alt acc is @fivemillionrats

(Edit) my sister's tumblr is @celestebeepy. She's also on YouTube with (I think?) The same name, she does like makeup videos and stuff

(Edit 2) ok her YouTube is also celestebeepy

(I'll probably edit this more later bc I'm definitely forgetting some stuff)

Thank you for reading!! :D

[all-for-the-game-confessions]

idk if it's mean to say and I don't mean it meanly at all. I think there's a weird culture of trauma dumping in this fandom though.

especially when any kind of discourse comes up, ppl seem to feel the need to 'prove' they can talk on a topic/have more authority than others on a topic by telling stories about how they've been through things the discourse is related to.

like when there was discourse around kevin/jean/riko and the cult thing or whatever. and there were ppl giving their opinions, but also a bunch of ppl chiming in to tell traumatic stories about them being in a cult. and it's not that I don't want ppl to speak about their experiences, but rather, I just think it's crazy that some ppl seen to think its relatively normal to jump into a conversation about fictional ppl with real stories about very triggering subjects with no warning whatsoever.

they also often assume by default that anyone who won't speak openly about going through traumatic shit hasn't been through it. which I don't think is good or fair.

I'm not trying to single ppl out either. it's not all the people who were in a cult or only them, its just the first example I could think of. it happens with basically everything though! from rape to homophobia to being abused by your parents, and so on.

I think the bigger problem which I briefly touched on is that it often comes with the assumption that those who don't speak openly about experiencing these things are assumed to not have experienced them. and ppl who do speak openly about it, will often explicitly make those assumptions.

bringing it back to the cult thing cuz it's the example I started with - I remember somebody would make a post (with admittedly a bad take), and then somebody would respond with their take + the fact that they'd been in a cult & add on a bit at the end being like "you wouldn't write a take like this [the original bad take] if you knew what it was like to be in a cult". and while I understand the frustration of ppl saying stupid or offensive or ignorant stuff, it's also stupid, offensive, and ignorant to make the automatic assumption that because someone's take/opinion on a tough subject differs from yours then that means they haven't been through similar experiences to you. because many ppl can experience the same thing and come out with differing opinions.

I just think it sets a bad precedent. it's also often completely unfair to the person they're saying this stuff to, even if they hadn't experienced that stuff themselves. because it also now means that the person hearing the trauma dumping has to respond with perfect civility, be perfectly calm and understanding, or else they'll be seen as not taking the person's experiences seriously. and while I obviously think you should handle somebody telling you their bad experiences with kindness, understanding, etc, this expectation is a little unfair sometimes because it often expects the listener to be perfectly nice, while the person doing the trauma dumping gets away with not being civil back. like they can throw stuff like "fuck you, you stupid bitch" or whatever into their post, essentially freely insult the other person, but the person hearing it can't do anything similar back without looking like The Asshole.

even if u are perfectly calm & understanding anyway, you can still look like The Bad Person if u continue to even respectfully disagree, becuz the trauma dumping person can just say something like "I experienced x and told you My Opinion and you still disagree 😡". and unless you want to openly admit you've also experienced x, you can't rlly defend urself.

all this to say. I don't think it's good to have this attitude of only being able to speak on things or having authority over others to speak on things if you've experienced said things. becuz on a platform like this, the only way to know if somebody has had those experiences is if they tell you. so it sets this expectation to talk about it. and I think it's normal not to want to talk about the bad shit you've been through with strangers on the Internet for brownie points. additionally. everybody's been through shit. it might not be the same shit as you, but it's important to remember that. we should all be trying to not make bold assumptions about people we don't know just because they think differently to us.

.

[countrydionysia]

2023 Rural Dionysia Announcement

Io! The time of the year has come again for the Rural Dionysia!

How to participate

The Rural Dionysia is meant to be a smaller competition than its urban counterpart, as such, we have selected only 3 categories:

Freestyle poetry

Modern hymns

“Complete the fragment”

Freestyle poetry

Your poem can be about any chosen topic (myth, personal experience etc.) in any written format. It doesn't have to be religious in nature.

Modern hymn

An hymn must sing the praises of a deity of your choice. Unlike the "freestyle poetry", your work must be of religious nature to fit in this category.

Complete the Fragment

Each year, we choose a fragment from an Ancient Greek poet to work with. The challenge is that the initial fragment must be included somewhere in your piece in its original order. This means you can fill the gaps however you want, but you can’t switch the order of the words in your piece or remove words from the original fragment.

Here is the fragment selected for this 2023 edition: Paen 16 by Pindar (52q Oxyrhynchus papyrus; late 2nd century AD; trans. William H. Race; Loeb 56)

……………… ] Lord Apollo, .…] for I pray ….] with willing (mind?) to give ….] power suffices and you were judged to be ….] most gentle to mortals.

Here is the Greek text for reference. Note that because the word "mind" is unsure in this translation, it will be acceptable to keep or modify this word.

-

If in doubt for any of these categories, remember that you can check submissions from the previous years to get an idea of how others have done before.

Submitting your piece

Please submit your piece through submissions on this blog. All entries must be tagged for the category they are being submitted to. but you can only choose 1 category per piece and each person may only submit 1 entry per category each year.

Entries must also be tagged for potentially triggering content and squicks. If your entry needs a trigger warning, kindly add them at the end of your submission and we will take care of adding them in. Check the rules below for further information about submissions.

Calendar of the event

Nov. 10: Official announcement and opening of submissions. Dec. 10: Final submission day. Dec. 11: Vote opening. Dec. 18: Vote closing. Dec. 19-20: Announcement of the winners!

No worries though! We will be posting reminders about each step when the time comes.

General rules

Roleplay and fanfic are not acceptable submissions. This is a religious festival, please respect our faith and do not submit an entry if you are roleplaying or writing fanfiction.

Unlike with the City Dionysia, entries do not necessarily have to be about specific deities or Hellenic polytheism except for the “Modern Hymn” category, which has to be dedicated to one or many gods of your choice.

There are no meter restrictions. This is up to the writer.

All stories, myths, and poems must be entered using the submissions button.

All entries must be tagged for the category they are being submitted to. Entries must also be tagged for potentially triggering content and squicks.

An entry may only be submitted to a single category.

Each person may only submit one entry per category each year.

Winners for each category will be decided by popular vote.

Admins of this blog cannot participate, for obvious reasons. As for now, this includes @thegrapeandthefig @verdantlyviolet

Questions about the rules? Check the blog for past answers, your answer might be in there. And if it's not, simply submit an ask. We'll answer in the best delays possible.

[1800pain]

PRIVATE SYSTEM SERVER.

Hello. As a show of my ability, I have created a private system server template for you to use. While "private" is in the name, I have included two access roles (Friend and Trusted Friend)—however I have not done any permissions for them. There is a Bot role that has permissions for them, like access to the System Setup category.

And, like the last template, only traumagenic systems can interact with this blog and use my templates. Endogenic systems and their supporters get blocked.

Note that not every single channel is in this gif, just the ones I deemed the most important to show.

Use the template here, however do note that the announcement channel and all of the forums channels will not copy over, and you will have to add them yourself: Private System Server Template

I am okay with you editing my template for your own use. Do not redistribute as your own.

If you need any help, you can leave an ask in my inbox.

Explanations for channels under the cut. LONG, BUT PRETTY DAMN IMPORTANT TO READ.

All forum channels are marked with a speech bubble emoji 💬 in front of them; those are channels that you will miss. The single announcement channel that also will be missing is marked with a mega emoji 📢.

#welcome - When someone joins the server, they will not see any channels, and you must give them a role so they can access this the server. You can see their welcome message here so you know someone's joined.

📢 update-status-fronting - If a switch happens, you put up a DNI, or want to otherwise warn people about your current state, you can update it here.

🔇 layout by 1 800 pain on tumblr - Feel free to delete this.

Text channels:

#bot - This is the only channel that has "Use application commands" permissions on it. If you would like to set it on other channels, you'd have to do it manually—or you can add it to the @​everyone tag.

💬 dms - In the title, I put "[DM/GC] Channel name" under the post, then write the participants. I have a tag system for this channel (see below).

💬 thoughts - Headmates' thinking time. I also have a tag system for this channel (see below).

💬 mailbox - Essentially, I create a channel with a headmate's name and there are two tags: Read and Unread. Read means they've read the messages people leave for them, and Unread means they have yet to read them. It's a simple way to communicate with headmates who are not fronting.

System Setup:

All servers here are unable to be chatted in; only any member with the Bot role can do that. I enjoy setting up my PluralKit work into a few separate categories:

#resources - Easy access to Simply Plural, Notion, Evernote, or various places I get PNGs to set up PluralKit profiles—things of that nature and related to it.

#pk-setup - For descriptions and things.

#pk-pfps (not in gif) - To add profile pictures and banners. I put it in its own space because it's a different type of spam, image-based spam, than pk-setup, which is mostly text-based spam.

#new-arrivals - For showing people who made their PluralKit account, mainly for documentation.

#pk-spam - Just general things that don't quite relate to the ones above; typically things like pk;r.

💬 image-resources - If you change your icons or banners a lot, this can help. I put icons/banners here with credits to the original artist, the original art, and the edited version we use in our profiles. It's tagged by Icon, Faceclaim, Banners, etc.

#pk-log (hidden, not in gif) - To store PluralKit messages. If you also would like, you can add a more general moderation bot (such as Carl-bot) to also store non-PK messages.

System-centric:

#to-do: Self-explanatory; got any plans? Put them here.

#sys-chat: More general system chatter.

#sys-work: Talk about... system work.

#headmate-observations: If you notice something about your headmate—such as a positive/negative trigger, a various quirk they have, or any idea how their role works—share it here.

💬 headspace: A headspace forum to talk about headspace. More information in the image below.

The collection of the channels that you will miss, check the images above for extended information:

📢 update-status-fronting (uncategorized)

💬 dms (in general category)

💬 thoughts (in general category)

💬 mailbox (in general category)

💬 image-resources (in System Setup category)

💬 headspace (in System-centric category)

[angxl-k9]

🪽 updated requests info

figured this was due for an update without just reblogging my original post a bunch of times, so here it is.

🪽 services

-> moodboards. my most popular service. see here for a pinterest board of all my moodboards, or scroll to the bottom for some examples.

-> tips for therio/kintypes. this could be how to feel closer to your therio/kintype, how to figure out your therio/kintype, etc. keep in mind there are some things i might not be able to answer.

-> pinterest boards. i can do aesthetics for your therio/kintype, or honestly anything you want.

-> userboxes. i can do basic designs, nothing complex but i can get whatever point you want to make across. i can do boundaries, "this user is ___", kin userboxes, etc.

🪽 boundaries

if my requests are closed, do not send me requests. i keep my asks open all the time so people can send non-requests but that is not an invitation to send one anyway. you will be blocked immediately.

i won't do requests that include major themes of spiders or any amount of sexual content/innuendo. i may add one picture of a spider if i feel it fits and i'm comfortable with it, however i won't do more than that. sexual content/innueno is absolutely off the table. i don't mind weapons or somewhat gorey themes.

any requests that include things like weapons, spiders, gorey images or disturbing imagery will be hidden under a cut and will have a trigger warning above. if something i've made is triggering for you, dm me and i will remake your request with you at top priority.

🪽 requirements

where relevant, you'll need to supply the following for me to make the best quality thing for you:

-> the animal, character or object that will be the focus of the service

-> the theme, aesthetic or mood to accompany the focus

-> any other elements you would like to be included (such as a specific habitat, location, background colour, specific number of boxes (default is 9), other animals/characters/objects that aren't the focus, etc).

🪽 reminders

if you are requesting something for a character, please include their full name (first and last) and their source. requests without these will be ignored.

please do not use acronyms or shortened names for anything in your request (e.g. pnw for pacific northwest). i will just ignore these requests as well as many acronyms have hundreds of meanings and i don't want to assume the wrong one.

🪽 tagging guide

#🪽angel moodboards // requests -> requested moodboards #🪽 angel moodboards // non requests -> non requested moodboards

#🪽angel pinterest // requests -> requested boards #🪽angel pinterest // non requests -> non requested boards

#🪽angel tips // requests -> requested tips #🪽angel tips // non requests -> non requested tips

#🪽angel userboxes // requests -> requested userboxes #🪽angel userboxes // non requests -> non requested userboxes

🪽 examples

[simi-week]

[Masterpost] | [Prompts]

--

So how does this work?

The event will run from July 14th to July 20th 2025, with two prompts assigned to each day.

When the event starts you can post your work on its respective day. We will be tracking the #simiweek2025 tag and queueing up all the posts we see. We will like the posts so you know it's been seen and is in the queue.

Who can participate?

Anyone! We accept any type of media: fanfic, headcanons, meta, fanart, edits, posters, gifs, moodboards, playlists, whatever you can think of!

Even if you don't feel like creating, sharing fanworks and showing love to the creators if you see something you like is just as important!

Do I have to sign up/use every prompt?

Nope! There is no sign up process, all you have to do is post your work and tag it with #simiweek2025. There is also absolutely no pressure to participate every day. If you want to create for just one prompt you are more than welcome to do so.

Do you accept NSFW works?

Yes! The prompts will be provided in an sfw wording, and participants can then make either sfw or nsfw works out of them. We simply ask that everyone tag their work appropriately and use their own discretion when browsing works posted by others.

If you're unsure about posting your nsfw art on tumblr then feel free to post an sfw/censored version and provide a link to the full version on AO3 (scroll down for more info regarding the AO3 Collection)

What if I'm late?

The event runs for seven days (14-20 July) but we will be tracking the #simiweek2025 tag and reblogging any late works until the end of August.

I have a wip that fits a prompt, can I use it?

You absolutely can if the work hasn't been posted before. The aim here is to create and share new works.

What tags should I use?

Tag everything with #simiweek2025. We also encourage you to use the #simi ship tag so more fans can see your work!

Please also tag appropriately. If your work is of an adult nature, make sure to tag as #nsft.

If there is triggering/sensitive content then please add a content warning tag (ex. #gore, #cw gore, etc..) We will leave these tags up to the OP's discretion and copy them when we reblog.

When posting to AO3 please select the appropriate rating and any warnings that apply.

Help! My work isn't showing in the tags!

Sometimes tumblr has glitches like that. If you tag your work and see it isn't appearing in the tags then please send us a message with the link so we can like and reblog it.

Is there an AO3 Collection?

Yes! You can find it here: simi_week_2025

The collection will be set to Open on July 13th, and we strongly encourage you to make an AO3 account if you don't already have one, as you need one to post there and to read Archive-locked fanfic. Currently the waiting time is ~2 weeks.

Is the AO3 collection only for fic?

Nope, you're also allowed to add art to it. Tumblr isn't the best place to post adult content, so if you make nsfw art for a prompt you can post an sfw preview on tumblr and link it to the full work on AO3.

How can I contact you if I have more questions?

This event is being entirely run on tumblr, so this is the place to contact us! Please feel free to send any questions and feedback to our ask box :)

Rules

Simi must be the main ship. You can have background ships if you wish to, but the focus of the event is Simi.

It must be your own original work.

Tag it appropriately and use #simiweek2025 so we see it.

We will not tolerate harassment or general nastiness towards any of the participants.

Have fun! We really hope this will be an enjoyable event for everyone :)

[ascribesstory]

Three Timelords

Hello! Sorry that I'm not posting more of my Batman fanfic but I needed a small break, so here's the beginning of a new series instead! The doctor will be mentioned next time :>

Trigger warnings: None!

Words: 811

Part two (Yet to be written)

Original female character is the protag

I sit at my desk, carefully fixing another synthetic linial actualizer that I’d found after the rift dumped it on some side street.

Many of those that come to Earth to study the rift try to describe it, and as a Timelord I’ve had plenty of time to listen to them all.  None of them really captured the rift well, even with all their scientific terms.

My favorite description comes from a certain Captain;  The Rift is like an ocean, and we’re all sitting on the beach, waiting to see what washes up.

In all it’s a normal day until I hear my doorbell ring.

Sighing, I take off the goggles that I had improvised from some Artolian Glass.  It’s one of the clearest and toughest materials you could find this half of the universe.

The cameras I had set up show our aforementioned captain and some black haired girl on my porch.  I’m sure he’d told me about her before, but his little Torchwood friends came and went so fast that it could be hard to remember who’s still around.

I head over to the intercom I had set up.  “Jack, you know I don’t like you bringing your partners around.”

I hear the woman let out a very offended scoff.  Jack holds up a hand to her, leans against the wall and grins up at the camera.

“Archivist! It’s always lovely to hear your voice.  I was hoping you could us a favor-”

I scowl, my displeasure clear in my voice,  “Who’s the girl?”

Jack paused and the girl pushed forward, leaning into the microphone.  “My name is Gwen Cooper, and you best let us in.”

I smirk and grab the microphone from its stand, leaning back in my chair as I speak into it.  “Well Miss Cooper, how much has Jack shared with you?  I’m not exactly one to let strangers in”

I quickly add before she can respond, “Oh, and tell Jack he still needs to bring back that glove he took from me.  Yes, bringing people back to life is great, but I’m not comfortable leaving something like that floating around, even in Torchwood.”

Gwen opens her mouth in shock, but before she can respond Jack cuts in.  “Listen, I know normally you’d reject strangers, but I need her with me.”

I pause for a moment, debating.

A chuckle escapes me as I hear her whisper, “Jack I’m freezing my arse off here, maybe it’s best I head off and you fill me in after eh?”

I finally relent.  “I’m on my way up, but you better be serious about this being important.”

—

The upper layer of my house was chaotic but cozy, free of offworld items that any surprise guests could stumble upon.

“It's actually Mrs. Cooper.”  Gwen speaks up after a few minutes of awkward silence between us.  Jack had abandoned us together in favor of looking at the generic photos I had up, the prick.

“Oh, so you’re married.”  I say, shifting on the couch.  Marriage was something normal people talked about, right?  “I’ve been married.”

Gwen smiles, putting aside her mug of tea.  “Oh?  Tell me about the fellow.  He still around?”

I shake my head.  “Actually, my most recent marriage was to a lovely young woman, but that was ages ago.”

Gwen’s eyes narrow.  “Most… recent?”

I nod.  “Oh I’ve been married hundreds of times, I even married Jack once.”

Jack cuts in before Gwen can spiral.  “She’s an immortal as well.”

“What, so now there’s two of you?”  Gwen asks, settling back into the armchair she’d chosen as she gestures to us.

I can’t help but laugh.  “Please, we may both be unable to die, but we aren’t the same.”

Before Gwen Cooper can ask anymore questions, I turn to Jack.  “So, are you going to tell me what brought you here or am I going to have to sit through more idle chatter?”

Jack whirls and claps his hands together.  “Ah, yes.  About that, do you have any say… anti-Timelord devices?”

My eyes narrow.  “Depends.  Why do you need an anti-Timelord device, Jack?”

He grins and leans in.  “Aw come on Archie-”

“Do not call me that.”

He pauses and leans on the armrest of the couch, lowering his head slightly as he looks at me. “I’ll explain on the way down.  But right now, I need you to trust me.”

My eyes drift to Gwen and he nods.  “Her too.”

I sigh and rub the bridge of my nose.  “Fine, but start explaining now.” I say as I stand, heading over to the section of wall between the kitchen and the living room.

Placing my hand on the hidden access panel, I’m more annoyed than worried at the intrusion.

That is until Jack says possibly one of the most feared sentences on planet Earth.

“The Master is back.”

[sophieinwonderland]

I’m part of an endogenic system and I would also like a plural future. You should add trigger warnings. Disregarding triggers does not make people take the message any more seriously, it makes them think ‘oh, this person really does not care about me or my issues, and will harm me to make bait seem more legitimate.’ It will force people to block you, even those who agree with your point. It will just make you look bad and delegitimise your other points.

I had forgotten the context when I replied to the last one of these so I just went back to see what the deal was with the original post and...

Do we really need an unreality tag on a post that is just so clearly not serious? Like, even with the anon putting that they're joking in parentheses?

Are jokes unreality?

From what I've seen, there's a lot of debate about what even constitutes unreality...

My personal feeling is that joking about turning people plural isn't really unreality. You're welcome to disagree and unfollow if you so choose. But I personally don't feel that post needs tagged.

[terrortransformed]

Terror Transformed - A Transformers Halloween Event!

Rules and Details

The event is running from 01/10/23 to 31/10/23.

1) Submissions can be made at any point during the month of October, so don't worry about having to get something done within the day-- As long as your work is submitted on or before 31/10/23, it counts!

That having been said, if you want to do a sketch a day, go for it! You have the entire month of October to make whatever you'd like. :)

Writing, art, and any other types of works are welcome.

You can submit any work to the event by using the tag "Terror Transformed". I'll reblog any submissions to this blog, to help keep everything together!

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2) You do not have to participate in each day of the event. Feel free to pick whichever prompts/dates appeal to you most!

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3) Scary and creepy are good; It's a Halloween event, after all! (That having been said, don't feel obligated to push yourself beyond what you may be comfortable with!) <3

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4) Please tag any horror content appropriately-- For example, "Body Horror", "Vampires", "Robo Gore", and so on.

Please make sure to include any additional content/trigger warnings if needed- This helps keep everyone safe, and helps to make sure everyone can have a fun time! :)

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5) NSFW/shipping submissions are fine, as long as you tag them appropriately and add any relevant content/trigger warnings as needed. (And of course, follow Tumblr site rules, although I don't think I need to say that!)

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6) Have fun!!! <3

AO3 - Terror Transformed Collection

You can find the AO3 collection here!

Works will be added if anyone wants to submit anything to AO3, mostly as a way to help keep things organised.

Any kind of writing is fine! Poetry, one-shots, multi-chaptered stories, drabbles, anything you might want to do. :)

The collection is moderated, so once October starts, I'll be keeping an eye out for any fics posted here or on AO3 with the tag "Terror Transformed".

Playlist for Inspiration!

Just for fun, as a way to provide some thematic Halloween tunes for people to draw/write along to, get inspired by, or just have fun and jam out to, you can find a playlist for the event over on YouTube here!

The playlist is still being worked on, but it'll get more refined as I add more tracks and clean it up a bit! :)

Happy Halloween!

I really want to do something fun for everyone since October is my birthday month and who doesn't love Spooky Season, so I hope this can be a fun event for anyone who wants to participate! <3

The original event pitch post is here, and it's really nice to see so much interest. :')

If you have any questions or require any clarification, please feel free to message me! :)