#i may do more fanart for their fics sometime soon god

[cr3ntist]

FINALLY made the fanart i planned on for @bumblingbabooshka ‘s fic Come Back to Me…

closeup under the cut and a draft of another scene that never got completed!

[the-100-days-of-junkan]

Day 94

Drowning by aparticularbandit

I’m Excited!~ 

Both because I just really like todays fic, and also because this is another piece that I’m particularly fond of both with the end result and the process of making it!

Let’s talk about the fic this time first! Spice it up a little!

Love this one! A lot! And if I’m not having a severe lapse in my memory this was actually my introduction to Bandits work! While I haven’t read all of it (yet), what I’ve managed to take in so far is truly lovely! Bandit consistently has a very strong way of putting words together, the inner monologues written for whatever character we happen to be following are so good! Go read!!

I mentioned Drowning quite a few days ago, as it inspired two of the pieces playing with the idea of Junkan’s dynamic when portrayed using the Alter Ego flavor of Junko. So it seemed pretty fucking obvious that when making a list of what fics to make fanart of in this section of the project, that Drowning would have to be one of the first ones I did.

I love the process of Mikan internally explaining how it felt to finally remember Junko after being forced to forget her in the Neo World Program. I think there’s still intricacies to the wording that I’ve yet to pick up on, but it’s such a fun and readable description of how that feels! I love it! And the fun little anecdote about the two watching Horror Movies together is so fucking pleasant just as an aside. Love that.

I really like Monokuma’s implementation here, short as his tenure in the text is. He is just a silly little guy amidst this very serious oneshot and then Mikan says “Junko” and he isn’t fucking around anymore. I love it! The description of Blood in DR is also nice!~ Now the like, actual Junkan part of the Junkan fic though. It’s amazing!~

First off, Mikachin as a nickname is adorable. Second off, I’m not sure how to adequately articulate WHY i love the rest of this so much? Like I can say I really, really love the kiss scene, it drives me up a wall how good it is like god DAMN. But the rest? It’s just so fuckin well put together, pure artistry, excellent. And the end? Mikan “swimming”? Perfect, cinema even. Good work. God damn.

As for the art it’s actually both a cover, AND an adaptation. The combo.

When trying to figure out how to handle this I knew a few things. I wanted Monokuma, and I wanted the cave by the beach, since I love that fucking metaphor. After a lot of thought I decided to make it an adaptation of the scene where Mikan pets Monokuma. Albeit adding my own interpretation of things, which may have been misguided depending on your perspective. There’s a chance that when drawing Junko here I softened her up further than what might have been intended. That’s the one thing that usually happens whenever I read these Junkan Fics taking place in actual canon, it’s always a little bit hard for me to tell what the general intention with Junko is in terms of her feelings towards Mikan. Not by any fault of the author(s) of course, it’s more me trying to tell if it was actually intended to be a softer Junko who does care for Mikan, or if that’s my own biases clouding my interpretation of the text. 

I just really liked the visual of Junko watching over Mikan while she figures things out until they can be together again, like a ghost but less sad. Except it’s a little sad given y’know, it’s Alter Ego Junko and also this is in canon so Mikan’s gonna “die” relatively soon after this, but also they don’t need to know that. 

I really need to draw Monokuma more often. I definitely draw him a bit . . . cuter? With a much smaller body compared to the size of his head, usually at least. I do draw him more on model sometimes, kind of a random chance whether that happens. 

Lighting this fuckin pic was so enjoyable, like some of the most fun I’d had in a while. I don’t really remember why I did the glowing pool below them in place of a floor, beyond the motif of water, but i’m really glad I did. Junko? Amazingly fun to draw, I made the color palette a bit more muted this time around and I think duller colors really work for Junko, which is funny given how maxed out she normally is. Her hair, was so god damn fun to draw, oh my god. 

Fun fact! This pic was actually how I introduced myself to Bandit sometime earlier into the event, and they’re an absolute fuckin treat to talk to, very glad I worked up the confidence to do so. Definitely adds a bit more sentimental value to this art in specific!~ 

As always, Reblogs, Comments, and Little Notes in the Tags are appreciated!~ They always make my day!~

[mumms-the-word]

💙💜 for the colour asks?

Thanks for the ask!! <3

💙 Blue: What inspires you to finish writing a fanfic, and what makes you quit writing one at any stage in the process?

I am the world’s worst at finishing something, especially if it’s a long-form thing like a book or a longfic like Fathoms or Masquerade is. Honestly, some days I want to just be like “if I quit softly no one will notice right?” But I know that I have at least 1 or 2 readers out there who would be sad and who sometimes ask for updates. If you ask me for an update there is a 95% chance I’ll be motivated (and pressured) to finish something lol

Also, some of the scenes I’m most excited to write in the long fics are the ones at the end. Beginnings are hard but exciting, the climatic endings are my favorite to write, and the middle is a SLOG. I always start to doubt my ability to finish a longfic/long project as soon as I hit the middle. The motivation just takes a nosedive. But I have to get to the fun scenes somehow, you know?

As for shorter fics, like oneshots…I think writing them more or less in one go helps keep up the motivation to finish them. I have several oneshots that I haven’t finished yet because I just don’t feel inspired to return to them or I feel like what I’ve written isn’t good, and the longer I wait to work on them, the less I want to bother with them. Sometimes finding just the right song for the fic’s mood helps, or finding a fanart that is particularly inspiring. Art inspires art!

As for why I tend to quit writing a certain oneshot or project, it depends. Sometimes it’s because the idea just isn’t working that day, or my writing feels forced, or I just have a headache/don’t feel good, or I got stuck on a plot point or scene, or I just feel unmotivated. The problem is, especially for oneshots, if I don’t try to pick it up the next day, it tends to get left behind. I’m trying to get better about returning to old WIPs but…I think some stuff will just be Forever Unfinished

💜 Purple: Name one song you're listening to while writing your next/current fanfic. How or why does it help the writing process?

Oh god how can I pick only one? I listen to video game/movie soundtracks when I write. I can’t listen to anything with words (at least, not in English) because I’ll pay attention to those words instead. I can’t listen to words and write words at the same time.

That said, one song I keep coming back to recently is The Journey from the Atlantis movie soundtrack. It may or may not have anything to do with Friday’s update in Fathoms 👀

But in general I listen to music to sink into a kind of mood or vibe for the scene. A sad scene needs sad music, a fight scene needs epic battle music, a cozy scene needs cozy music. That sort of thing. And if all else fails, chill video game music covers all my bases, because theoretically speaking it’s designed to fade in the background and help your concentration.

Idk I’m just not as big on listening to contemporary music/music with words when I write. Some stuff does inspire scenes, but I can’t listen to those songs WHILE I write.

Also being dismally behind all music trends lately doesn’t help

Anyways thanks for the ask!!

[feral-coffee]

I guess it's been long enough since a certain (now blocked) idiot was asking me for my real name and where I lived. Yeah, out of nowhere, they gave a fic of mine I'd posted here a like, which was awfully strange for someone reblogging so much bs about Trump being the holy savior god ordained to drain the swamp of liberals, all of which who groom and sell kids. Strange, when the fic was about a gay man living out his fantasy and leaving half of his fortune to his gay sidepiece and half to his wife and family. Yeah, that like wasn't fooling me, and I've been around a certain working community long enough to be distrustful of people with too many and too specific of questions, especially so early on in an interaction.

And as per my previous pinned post, minors DNI, because the last thing I need is more accusations that I'm grooming a minor/minors with flimsy evidence. (Last time, I was accused of being a pedophile because my 100+yo robot OC was doing things (washing dishes, cooking, etc.) with a 49yo undead cyborg, roleplayed by a minor, but *somehow* dishes and food are 'inherently sexual'. If I 'groomed' the kid to do anything, it was to do his chores, I suppose.)

So, yes, I set my own entire blog to 'Mature', and my fics tend to be set more conservatively, I tag on AO3, even the stuff that's implied in the fic and not spelled out (welp, spoilers), and I set individual posts to 'Mature'.

I also block pornbots and creeps looking to hookup. I may be kinky, but I'm also ace and taken and while some use it as such, Tumblr is not actually a dating app - if it were, I wouldn't be on here. That said, I'm on AO3 (and PF) as windblownsand (both accounts are locked, you'll have to login).

Series:

Tangent (WIP, in the process of a rewrite, I'll get back to it eventually, but probably not terribly soon - was Steam Powered Giraffe, now Original Work) sorry but a toxic fan ruined it by believing their own creepy hc about myself and a minor was real

A Toast to Hell (Fragments) (WIP, it's a bit spicy by fan request - mostly Ghost and one OC is inspired by Brian Stableford's David Lydyard trilogy, two other writers' (vennycat and osiris-iii-bc) OCs are also mentioned) - Currently working on this fic

One shots:

Eternally Yours (inspired by a song by the same name, by Spiritual Front) the one someone tried doxxing me over

The Demitasse Out of Time (a much older work of mine inspired by HP Lovecraft)

Reanimatdeer (inspired by a really weird dream I had, Original Work)

Fin (post-apocalyptic, post-humankind, AI [not as in written by, but as in it's an OC of sorts], Original Work)

Other writing:

Dream Cycle (permanent WIP until I die, each chapter is a different reoccurring dream I've had)

Music:

On my Internet Archive account and track 10 here (free downloads, but give credit where credit is due when sharing)

Drawings and Paintings:

Nothing posted here (Ok, so I've been poisoning - Glazed and Shaded - my own work and I'm finally, really getting back into it, but as an additional measure, I'm not going to post it here. If you really want to see it, feel free to ask me about my Pillowfort. Yeah, yeah, cringe, whatever, but it's way more chill and hasn't partnered with AI, not to mention it has a better way to keep kids out of the NSFW stuff - so good, in fact, I don't even need a DNI or separate accounts for SFW and NSFW.)

--------------------------

Anyway, be weird (not boring), but don't be weird (creepy). Most of my reblogs will be of Ghost fanart, some of ramlightly's work, mentions of crappy behavior in fandoms, and sometimes other things.

If you'd like to make fanworks of my writing, let me know so I can reblog it and/or mention it here in my pinned post.

Fanart:

Abrasax and the ghoul by osiris-iii-bc (Go check out her artwork, it's amazing. She also writes, so please check out her writing as well - links are in her pinned post) - based on a scene in A Toast to Hell (Fragments)

[circumstellars]

Hey, I saw your post asking why some of your mutals don’t reblog and it honestly made me wildly uncomfortable and feel like I was being personally called out by you. (we are mutuals and I probably don’t reblog too many of your gifs) I kind of just wanted to scroll past and try not to have a panic attack, but I thought if maybe I just explained then we both might feel better. (1)

Oh! anon, maybe you didn’t see my post after, but it’s not as big a deal as everyone is thinking, I didn’t realise I was causing anxiety to people, hummm, I’m sorry!  Like I said, it’s not like I’m worried because some of my followers are reblogging some of my stuff but not others - that doesn’t bother me *at all*. So if that’s you, and it sounds like it is, please don’t worry. Even if it is you, there’s nothing to do about it, I’m not gonna melt or anything. It’s more of a burning curiosity. I make a lot of stuff (especially lately on my new adhd meds, god) with lots of themes, so the only reason I notice at all is if it’s the same pattern no matter what I make, style, effects, content, then I’m like ....huh. I wonder why. I know not everything in a fanart or gifset, or even fic, is everyone's taste at the same time, so you don’t need to explain yourself of that, honestly, it’s cool. I’m the same way. If it’s not my taste, I try to put the energy into things that *are* my taste on my neighbour blogs, and reblog the ones I like most. Sometimes I love it, sometimes I’ll wait for the next post! But you don’t need to have anxiety over it, I won’t block you or pitch a fit or something reactive, I’d rather be uncomfortable about it then cause others discomfort. In the end, I can only hope the next time or the next time or the next time, I get luckier, and it suits you and your blog. (You sent me such a long ask (over 4 parts), but I’m assuming you know I’m addressing all of it here!) Altho, while you said you don’t make a lot of content, I still find it surprising you say I haven’t reblogged your stuff! Like really surprising, since I reblog stuff quite often (i try to keep my money where my mouth is so to speak, and if I want others to support me, I try to make sure I’m reciprocating as much as is reasonable). Obviously I don’t know who you are, so I just cross my fingers and hope to rectify it soon! I try to throw in reblogs of any content (fics - even tho im not reading or writing at all, fanart, gifs) that I don’t see getting enough attention in general, ‘cause I really feel strongly about promoting art in the fandom community! So that part in my case may be unintentional, unless you only make a very very specific content only, like say your only original content is x Reader fics (no shade! Just not my thing by a mile), and therefore that may be the only thing I imagine might have me skipping over that which doesn’t apply to me. (I tend to be a liberal follower, and use the filter tag system to curate as needed, so I have lots of variety of people in my orbit on purpose. I usually unfollow only if fandoms change radically or I see bullying.).  Anyways anyways *anyways* (adhd works the fingers sorry), as a person, I tend to blab and express random thoughts as a way of not bottling up the small things, so I honestly thought that text post would go largely unread or worried about. I was quite surprised! Be well anon, you’re cool and fine. Thanks for reaching out anyway tho, hope you feel better about it now!

[jcmorrigan]

im curious (again XD); do you have any favorite mozenrath headcanons/or headcanons in general ? :D

I mean, I see him as a very anti-social person most of the time - his ideal fun day is just reading in his library all day - but I do think if you met him up with people who shared his lack of moral compass and ambitious fervor, his walls would come down a bit. (I mean, I have a whole crossover fic about this, and then I got into a Disney villain RP where I wrote as him and the exact same thing ended up happening with a different group of characters entirely)

I think it’s pretty canon at this point that his favorite color is blue, but in case it isn’t - he loves blue. Everything must be blue. It’s an AESTHETIC.

I’ve modified my backstory for him a few times, but it usually boils down to: he was one of Cassim’s children (I used to have him as Aladdin’s twin but now he’s a half-brother who peaced out of that house when Aladdin was a babey), he felt his father was an absolute jerk who didn’t understand his intellectual pursuits (and really, his instincts were kinda right, since Cassim ran off), he set out to find the most feared man in the Seven Deserts on purpose, Destane was impressed that a kiddo had managed to make it all the way to the Black Sands without dying, too bad Destane was more in the mood for a personal servant and test subject than an actual apprentice, but don’t get me wrong, as horrible as he was to Mozenrath, Mozenrath had actually fantasized about world domination BEFORE turning up on his door - and then, finally, Mozenrath got a lucky shot and managed to suck the life out of Destane.

Also, Destane at least kept the people of the Black Sands human while he subjected them to his iron-fisted rule. Mozenrath was the one who decided they should all be shambling undead

He doesn’t want to talk about the actual two weeks he spent inside Dagger Rock. I’m thinking Mirage let him out for a lark because she knew the playing field was just that more evil with him on it

Mozenrath can literally necromance - the Mamluks aren’t just drained of life force; they were killed and brought back intentionally half-souled. He’s a one-in-a-million case for having this ability; however, necromancy =/= healing and therefore he cannot extend his own life force with his own magic, nor can he resurrect himself once his own soul hits the afterlife

He isn’t a Muslim but actually closer to a Zoroastrian/Mithraist. This ties in to how I am pretty sure the Black Sands is Persia/Iran (but this is a more common larger headcanon). He may have been born into a Muslim family, but the moment he turned his back on Destane, he decided to adopt a practice that made more sense to him. However, in Mithraism, the belief is that Mithras, the good god, will defeat Ahriman, lord of evil. Mozenrath wants this to be the other way around. I actually like subbing in “Ahriman” for him for expressions where we might casually use “God” - “Oh, goddammit” for us = “Oh, Ahriman curse it” for him.

He also has a thorough knowledge of the other gods of the world. Just in case.

It’s canon that he knows about at least one other world, as he pulled the Thirdac from it. If you like thinking about Mozenrath in the Kingdom Heartsverse, nobody needs to explain to him what a Keyblade is; if Sora drew one in front of him, he’d just be “Oh. One of THOSE. All right, you’re a world-hopper.” He might’ve even toured a few.

This is more of a general Agrabah headcanon - ever notice how in the series, there ALWAYS seems to be a new sorcerer whose time has passed but left a MacGuffin lying around? Wizard Khufu, the Witches of the Sand, Khartoum, Shamash, Destane...I have it that before the generation Aladdin is set in fully took hold, there was an “Age of Sorcery” where these sorcerers controlled all. Jafar was basically the end of it; Mozenrath is a one-man revival who takes his cues from the sorcerers from old and studies their legacies. (Well, okay, Ayam Aghoul is another example in his own way)

Mozenrath and Ayam Aghoul are the two most compatible Agrabah rogues; we were robbed when they never had a team-up episode. Most of the folks at the Guild of Thieves, such as Amin Damoola, Abis Mal, or Mechanicles, Mozenrath could not STAND. Aghoul GETS him, though. They both have morbid fascinations with death and ample collections of magic. Total bros.

Mozenrath isn’t afraid of death. Well, mostly not. What happens is that when the gauntlet starts to burn him too fast, he panics and realizes this might not be exactly what he wanted. But usually, he doesn’t mind spending a lot of his life force at a time because he feels it’s worth it, and sometimes, when faced with a near-death experience, he’s just...ready, only to be glad when he finds himself alive. His actual greatest fear is of dying sick/old/weak in bed. He wants to die going out with a bang: using up his last life force on some amazing spell that lets him get the last word.

The gauntlet has his affected body in constant pain - wherever the edge of his flesh is. (I used to think that around the time of the series, it was only his arm; then I saw an AMAZING fanart of him with his skin stripped from half his upper body so you could see through to his beating heart and I LOVE THAT so that’s where I place him.) However, it’s comparatively mild; just incessant. His pain tolerance is slightly better than most, but not completely (the Mukhtar’s ropes backfiring on him were significantly a different beast than the eating away of the gauntlet).

Gay, but during the time of the series, has never really cared enough about finding a partner to even wonder what his sexuality is. When your company is countless rotting undead, you don’t really have much room to find your type (though Ayam Aghoul would disagree and say that’s the BEST place to find your type - incidentally, to follow up, I don’t ship Mozenrath and Aghoul. They’re just bros. Aghoul is pretty straight and also incredibly not Mozenrath’s romantic type - though I did once read an amusing AU fanfiction that suggested Mozenrath was the person who Aghoul tried to “marry” with the enchanted pendant and also the one who turned it to backfire on him).

Don’t give him coffee. Just...don’t. He doesn’t handle coffee well. He gets incredibly hyperactive (read: destructive) and then just crashes unconscious.

I think that’s all I can think of for now. As soon as I hit “Post” I’m going to realize something super important I forgot, I KNOW it

Well, okay, this one is not really relevant to canon-compliant works but his drag name would be Brandisia Black it’s a long story

[enjoltaire-is-canon]

We’re Just Another Star In a World of a Million Stars

This is based on my own thoughts, it’s nothing dark in particular, just pretty realistic in my opinion.

.

And this is gonna be a long disclaimer, so feel free to skip.

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter (but imagine if I did), the Shadowhunter Chronicles, The Maze Runner series, The Hunger Games, Divergent, Twilight, Percy Jackson, Lord of the Rings, the Rold Dahl books, Diary of a Wimpy Kid or Dork Diaries.

-

The clock across the room was reading three a.m, illuminated by the soft moonlight that had managed to sneak through the drapes.

Grantaire looked at Enjolras, lying beside him soundly asleep, and felt a familiar warmth spread through him. Enjolras looked like an angel with his hair spread beneath him, his eyelashes almost touching his cheeks and rosy red lips slightly parted, letting out the occasional snore. He closed his eyes, allowing the bubbling self-hatred well up in his chest.

He had everything he’d ever wanted; a loving boyfriend - the loving boyfriend- friends that would drop everything to be at his side in a blink of an eye, and a steady money source, why was he unhappy then? Most of the time he was, enjoying being with Enjolras and the amis, relishing in the peacefulness painting provided, but it’s at these times, when he was all alone, that the demons surfaced.

What was he doing it all for? The living, loving, what was the point? He could die at any given moment and everything he’d ever done would be for naught. He could die at twenty five, well before his time, and the world will still spin. People will go on with their lives, nothing will come to a still. A person or two may weep over him, but soon everyone will forget him, in less than a year’s time. He’ll be remembered at family gatherings, and whenever his friends felt nostalgic. He’ll be a distant memory, forgotten and only resurrected at the livings’ will. And God, how he wished to have someone reassure him, help fight the demons, but that’s not how it works in real life. You have to tell people how you feel in order for them to comfort you, they can’t read minds.

He reached out to caress Enjolras’s curls, feeling tears sting his eyes. Will Enjolras move on when he dies? Will he find someone else to love? Will he even remember him ten years after his death? Will he be that lover he fondly looked back at, or someone who filled up his time for a while? What will people say at his funeral? Will they say that he touched anyone’s hearts? Changed their lives? Will anyone visit his grave? Or will it be just another abandoned headstone in the middle of an ocean of graves? What will the afterlife be like? If heaven and hell were real, where will he go? He wasn’t really a religious person, hadn’t been to church since he was ten, but he wasn’t exactly a bad person. Not bad enough to deserve hell at least.

And if he does end up going to hell, then that’s no comfort. Being plunged from one hell only to be thrown into another. ‘But at least this world has some good things,’ he thought as he pressed a gentle kiss on Enjolras’s cheek and got up to look at the bookshelves covering half of the room. Half of them were Enjolras’s, a mixture of philosophy, history and law books, but the other half was his. He traced his fingers over the paperbacks’ spines, distinguishing them by the moonlight.

He smiled fondly as he looked at the Harry Potter books, memories of reading the books, laughing and crying as he made his way through the pages running through his head. These books helped helped him through the awkward couple of years that were known as middle school, helped him deal with bullying from his peers and teachers, his friendlessness and the struggle of pasting a smile on his face. Then there were the Shadowhunter Chronicles, a series that had made him yell with joy and bawl his eyes out in agony. He’ll never forget the times he rolled his eyes at Jace’s antics and awed at Magnus and Alec, and God, is he thankful that Izzy put her pride down and admitted her feelings for Simon, though Will Herondale will always be his favourite. That brat everyone hated but loved, who did his best to push everyone away and yet never managed it. His selflessness, running to the institute and away from his family to protect them, accepting the fact that he’s a walking death sentence and yet allowing himself one thing; a parabatai.

Then there was the Maze Runner series, a hate letter to W.I.C.K.E.D. A series of heart wrenching teenage boys that struggle against a corrupt world, only wanting to survive. And Thomas and Newt, the sleepless nights he spent reading fanfiction about them because canon hadn’t done them justice, and God, the nights that he spent crying over the fact that Newt and Sonya never got to know that they were siblings.

He let out a snort that was followed by a few tears when his eyes fell on the Twilight series. He never made it to the last book, but he’d actually enjoyed the first three ones, and yet he’s still spent his time hating on them when he was in the Harry Potter fandom. And then there was Divergent. He had loved the books, not enough to reread them though, sci-fi wasn’t his favourite genre, but he gave it a chance. He never hates on the Divergent characters and even likes looking at edits about them sometimes, but rereading the books was out of question.

A glint caught his eye and he followed it to find himself staring at the Hunger Games books. He liked them a tad bit more than Divergent, and had never hated them all the same. All these pages held precious memories and he’ll never let them go. The Percy Jackson books, Red Queen, Lord of the Rings, -hell even the Rold Dahl books, Diary of a Wimpy Kid and Dork Diaries, were all close to his heart, and he won’t exchange them for the world.

But all these works and characters were immortalized, on these papers, on theatre screens, in fanfiction and fanart. They’ll last till the end of time, and if not till then then for at least another hundred years. As much as the characters comforted him, they’ll comfort other people, be their heroes. They won’t follow him in death because, as much as he hated to admit it, -and as empty as the words felt- they weren’t real.

He didn’t know what the afterlife was like, but if anything, he was sure that it didn’t have the same things as this world, or else there would be no point. He won’t be able to listen to the songs that got him through his parents’ fights or the ones that helped him get up in the morning. He won’t be able to do anything, especially if he was in eternal torture.

A soft groan came from the bed and he turned to see Enjolras making a grabby hand at the empty side of the bed. He smiled and went over to his lover, getting in bed and wrapping his arms around him, his smile widening when Enjolras made a happy sound. His thoughts will never be banished by the knowledge that he has a world to live in now and people to love and love him back, and he was in no way content with that, but he didn’t really have a say in the matter, and there was nothing he could do about that.

And so life went on, Grantaire lived and loved and, as predicted, died at twenty-five. His funeral was a quiet affair, his friends wept but his lover sat motionless, still in denial. Years passed and his friends got married happily, always remembering him at Christmas and Thanksgiving. But Enjolras never forgot him, not for a moment, and it was all he could do to keep going and not follow his lover.

-

Like I said, I wanted to keep it realistic. Grantaire was perfectly healthy, he didn’t have cancer or any other health issue, sometimes people just die, out of nowhere, and there is nothing we can do about it. Take Cameron Boyce as an example; while he did have a health condition, his situation wasn’t really bad, but something just happened in a moment and then he was gone. I don’t know if Dove Cameron has really made peace with his death and I don’t know if she’s trying to make herself see a reason to go on with all her Instagram posts, but it’s touching how dearly she loved Cameron Boyce, and it’s more than any of us will ever get. (The message might seem vaguely familiar to you from The Fault In Our Stars) He only had twenty years, but he made more of them than any of us could hope to. This fic was not written with Cameron Boyce in mind, but he is a pretty good example for the message I’m trying to convey.

[natsumiheart]

I gotta say, I started following your blog after you made the 100 reasons why I ship saiouma post, because at the time I was getting alot of crap from people saying why do I ship the ship because they disliked it and they prefer other ships like oumota/saimota/oumeno or consider saiouma unhealthy/generally disliked it. I found your post to be kinda comforting really and I really enjoy reading your content. I love you + your blog, and am really grateful to you. Also sorry I spam your ask box

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

Aaaa I’m crying thank you so much ;; feel free to spam as much as you want dun worry about it! 😂

I’m honestly glad my blog feels like a safe space for fellow Saiouma shippers. I definitely know the feeling of getting a lot of crap from other people just because they otp something else (don’t get me started on those people from amino who shipped before the game came out then attack you just because Kokichi ended up having feelings for someone else). You can come to me anytime to assure you what they’re saying is wrong and is just a result of their insecurities towards their ship. To be honest, no ship with Kokichi is unhealthy, because Kokichi is not who they think he is. I believe in the end anyone who hates Saiouma just misunderstood Kokichi or Shuichi’s character. There’s a reason why most youtubers who have played the game end up acknowledging the existence of the ship after all.

When I started falling for the ship I had no dr friends who liked it so I was just fangirling on my own, reading fanfics on my own, drawing fanart and never showing anyone XD (it was sad really but it was fun to draw for my otp and being so happy about it) one day I decided maybe I should just post all that art onto dr amino as some huge art dump, but then still got some controversial comments everytime I posted something and didn’t get that much recognition. I already didn’t like that amino cause I wasn’t a huge fan of the dr fandom itself, don’t know if I was even considered a part of it. But those incidents where my friend had to keep stepping in to protect me just made me hate it to death. (thanks for protecting me @souda-nouda ;;)

I still post my drawings here and there but not as much, it’s all art dumps. Plus I never talk there, because 1. already hated the fandom and 2. one time I joined a chat and after someone (it was obv what their otp was but I’m not gonna mention it, dun wanna generalize those shippers because I’m sure not everyone is like that) noticed my Saiouma pfp they sent a “meme” ridiculing Saiouma 😂  basically a screenshot of the “you’re alone and always will be” scene with the caption “Oh I love Saiouma so much best ship” or something like that. I ended up never talking that much, was scared of being there and it was worse with my anxiousness. I ended up ranting to myself yet again then just keeping that rant in my notes, and later referred to that rant in an answer to an ask asking about how I feel towards the opinion that Saiouma is just onesided. You can find it here if you want to XD You can tell which parts I had to refer to my rant to.

But honestly, the worst one is when friends diss it in front of me with no regards for my feelings about it. When it’s others I can ignore but when it’s friends you can say “I take the beating” and laugh it off even though they’re seriously hurting me. (I know it’s just a ship, but it’s my otp for god’s sake 😂) The reason why I started disliking some ships even though I shipped them in the past is that of people trying to tell me why Saiouma sucks and why their ship is better. It was worse too when it was irl 😂 One of my only friends irl that knows danganronpa dissed my otp really badly when I had no one else and I just laughed it off 😂😂😂 (again won’t mention their ship, but it def affected my opinion on that ship and them as a person. tbh have come to seriously not like that ship at all, cause most fans of it treated Saiouma shippers the same way)

Life was like that for a while, the only one I could rant to was myself or my friend in class who knew nothing about danganronpa “I’m dying these fics are killing me and I have no one to talk to about it save me, Person B has the hanahaki disease and ran away! at this rate he’s gonna die on the streets!” poor friend

One day my friendo on kh amino for like two years now told me to post the drawings I’ve been hoarding to tumblr with her (hey @xs-xs ily thanks for dragging me to tumblr ;;💕💕💕) and she soon joined me on the ship becoming my first ever friend to have shipped Saiouma! I ended up legit spamming her with a bunch of fics that I read and loved and even a bunch of Saiouma artists I followed here on tumblr! Honestly, she helped me at such a rough time, bless her. I love her so much utcjgcfsyrehtsefxjd

my lil sis somehow joined me as well after playing the game pfpfp we fangirl together sometimes

You may laugh at me but I seriously feel safer on tumblr as a place to post these stupid drawings, I hate them, I want to get better constantly, but meeting fellow shippers and getting support for doing what I do just makes me so happy ;; and now I’m just so happy that I could you help you through something I’ve gone through as well. Because of this place I feel like I can just post drawings for me and my little circle of followers and mutuals who love the ship as well, and I ended up meeting really imp friends to me now that I speak to every day (hey @reichiroll and @my-own-special-atmosphere thank you so much for talking to me even though all I did at the time was just post drawings and was srsly new to tumblr 😂)

As you can see having been questioned multiple times as to why I ship them I ended up with tons of nights staying awake and just remembering each and every detail of why I loved the ship so much, why did I keep staying awake at night reading fanfictions of them? why did drawing them make me so happy even though I was going through such a rough time in my life? Why did I feel like I’m on cloud 9 just talking about them? Why did I want someone to talk to about it so badly? One day, I was left without internet, and away from home, I felt so horrible, but to make myself feel better I just whipped out my notes app again and just started typing the many reasons I shipped Saiouma.

It wasn’t supposed to be 100 tbh, and it almost ended up more than 100 (I didn’t mention all those cute moments between Shuichi and Kokichi before the fte starts, the “Shuichi you understand me I’m so happy I’m crying!”, the time they ran away from Kaito together, or the time Kokichi taught him stuff about lying. I don’t even think I mentioned the funny backhanded compliments in salmon team, like Kokichi wants to compliment Shuichi but doesn’t know how to so he does it in his own Kokichi way 😂 “no matter how many times I’m reborn I’m no match for the likes of you” and “You’re really amazing Shuichi” hhhhhh), it didn’t even take much time to write. but somehow (due to the unhealthy amounts of hours I spend thinking about Saiouma) I wrote all that, and somehow that post got a lot of notes proving to me that I was actually not alone. It made me so happy.

and that’s how that post came to be! XD It’s awesome that you’ve been here for that long ;;💕

Sorry for the sudden rant, you can already tell that I can’t help but rant alot XD your message hit me right in the heart, I almost started crying from happiness 😂 thanks again and as I said earlier spam me all you want, answering your asks is fun! and for the friends who I ended up tagging, hey sorry I just love you and can’t hold this love back XDDD

[prompt-and-circumstances]

We Were All Medicated

We Were All Medicated

Characters/Pairings: No Pairings! OCs, Reader Insert, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester

Prompt: Medicated (from A Brand New Hurt by Louden Swain) for the 2018 Louden Swain FanFic FanArt Project (third year!) by @mrswhozeewhatsis

Word Count: 1,997

Warning(s): Angst, Sorrow, Guilt, Death. Look here, this piece hit me in the feels and I’m the joker who wrote it!

A/N: This is a reposting of last year’s challenge piece. It is the sequel to the 2016 Louden Swain Challenge piece “Pop Tart Heart.” All lyrics were used and are not bold or marked in any other way. I didn’t want them standing out like a sore thumb, I wanted this to read smoothly. This can be read in one of two ways: the first way is to go back and read Pop Tart Heart first and then this piece. The second way is to just read this fic as a standalone piece. I do reference the first piece and summarize it in one paragraph within this piece. There will not be a part three, the story ends here.

We Were All Medicated

Holy Chuck. That totally hurt. Of course, that was expected. What wasn’t expected was how relieving the pavement actually was. One would naturally assume that when you get knocked down onto pavement, you a) get the wind knocked clean out of you and b) you get hurt in two directions. Once from the attack and second from the pavement catching your flesh and bones. You braced yourself for more beatings from the group, but they walked away once you hut the ground. Weirdest bullies ever.

You just lay there for a few minutes, okay, maybe more than a few. The pavement seemed to caress the treads of your distress; it was as if the coolness from the concrete was seeping into your very being and washing away the stress, and pain, and guilt. Oh, how you wanted to lay there for eternity! But as Tommy always said, “you gotta grip onto that cow as your seat and speed the plow.”

To be honest, you didn’t have clue one what in the hell that actually meant, but you always assumed it was his version of the age-old adage “if you fall off the horse, get back on.” Good ‘ole Tommy Bandenberry. He was your best friend your entire life until he died with the rest of the scholastic team in a freak bus accident. One year later, that creep Colin Rottergut raised them and the entire cemetery with voodoo. You, your boyfriend Toby, Tommy’s little sister Chelsea, and your nerdy friend Maddox banded together and defeated the zombie dudes. The town “re-died” because of two strange men, brothers, Sam and Dean Winchester. They apparently did this stuff for a living. They stopped Colin and made the four of you swear to never get into hunting monsters.

And the four of you kept to that promise. At least, you tried. You were seniors in high school when the zombie apocalypse happened. Then you all went off to college and not the same ones. You and Chelsea went to one, Toby to another, and Maddox got into an Ivy League school and none of you were surprised. The guy was a total nerd. You all genuinely gave that promise the college try…but it wasn’t enough.

You still didn’t know what happened to Maddox, it was like he ceased to exist or something except you still remembered him. He disappeared without a trace, it’s honestly the damnedest thing. You certainly hoped it had nothing to do with the actual damned. According to the Winchester brothers, monsters are real so it only makes sense that angels and demons are real too, right?

You got into this series of books in college, Supernatural. Some guy named Chuck Shurley wrote them, and they were scarily accurate. You and Chelsea started saying things like, “I swear to Chuck,” and “Oh my Chuck” instead of God’s name. Neither of you knew if God was real, but this Chuck fellow seemed like a good substitute. He just knew too much. You always wondered if the Winchester brothers knew about him and his novels. Did he even have their permission to write that stuff much less print it?

You and Chelsea even got a book club going on campus for those novels. Everyone thought it was great fiction, but you and Chelsea knew the truth. They were real. A slight breeze washes over you and reminds you, you’re still lying on that pavement. You sit up but continue to sit on the cool pavement. You know, for a sidewalk it was awfully clean. There weren’t any markings, or gum spits, or dog droppings, or anything. Not even chalk from a kid during summer. It was just so, pure.

“Like your words, so gentle in their reflection in my window. I knew you would be the kind of girl I could talk to.” Chelsea was special, she was super girly and followed all the latest cosmetic trends. The girl never had a strand of hair out of place and didn’t know how to not accessorize anything and everything. She was a beauty queen, but she was also kind and bubbly. Everyone always assumes the pretty ones are mean, but she wasn’t. She refused to be placed into that mold. She was Tommy’s little sister after all, so you guys have known each other forever.

You remembered when they moved into your neighborhood, right next door to you. You were both five years old. You were sick with a cold and watched them unpack from the window in the downstairs living room. You were so curious but couldn’t join your parents outside to greet and help. You had to stay inside. That’s when you met her. She must have seen you watching them, and she practically bounced over to your window, breathed on it and started writing on it. The two of you did that for hours while the grown-ups unpacked. You’ve been best friends ever since.

Chelsea and Maddox always had a thing in high school. Maddox always seemed a little strange and sometimes you both wished he was a little less insane. All that nerd mumbo jumbo made your heads spin, but not in that creepy Exorcist way. Maddox was always proclaiming, “I may be crazy, at least I’m medicated!” He was such a dweeb sometimes but he always made you guys laugh. The guy was a true gem. You just can’t believe he’s gone without a trace.

Toby went looking for him a few months back. Your boyfriend was eerily protective of you, ever since the zombie dudes incident. He was hell-bent on making sure you didn’t lose another friend and take the blame for it, especially when it couldn’t possibly be your fault to begin with. You remembered calling Toby and telling him to stop the search. You could feel your gut telling you, this wasn’t normal. Something happened, a Winchester kind of thing, and you guys made a promise. A pact even. You were not to go a-hunting.

You turn your head to the sky; the sun is beginning to fade and the Nebraska sky is showing why it’s Nebraska. You sigh, still not ready to stand up on the pavement. You’re getting too lost in your thoughts and memories. “I was intense, you said. To that I silently took offense while you laughed, but I didn’t think it was funny.” Toby insisted your gut instinct was just fear and he continued searching. Two months ago, there was a report on the news, a young man had been found. Dead. Toby was dead. No one knew how, when, where, or why. He was just found. Police say where he was found is not where he died.

You never even went to the funeral. He should have listened! Tommy, Maddox, Toby, and then your worst fear realized; it was Chelsea’s turn. She invited you to some weird ass event her beauty class was doing, and you agreed to go but never made it. You got swamped at work and then your car stalled. You tried to call and let her know you’d be late and possibly miss the event altogether. She never picked up. You assumed, and justly so as any person would, that she was busy with her event. The next morning you got her voicemail, Hey, it’s Chelsea. It’s filling up in here so I was saving your place. I was scared you’d be replaced and I didn’t want to sit with a stranger. Hope to see you soon!

It was cryptic to say the least. Fear of getting replaced? You never did figure out what she was talking about. Later that afternoon, she was declared missing and three weeks later her body turned up, just like Toby’s. You were the only one left. You couldn’t stop asking yourself if their deaths were your fault. It seemed like the only common denominator in everyone’s deaths was you. So how could you stop yourself from making the same mistake?

You knew you couldn’t go looking for Maddox and you couldn’t try to discover what happened to Toby and Chelsea. You placed a call to Dean’s phone and Sam’s phone as back up, in case Dean didn’t get the call. You left messages on each. You never heard from them either. You felt utterly helpless. And alone.

Whatever was coming for you, you knew it was coming. It had to be. You did attend Chelsea’s funeral. It was awful. The only thing as awkward as goodbye, was standing up in your seat to let her by. You should have been a pall bearer, but you just couldn’t handle it. You didn’t know how you fought the tears back as her casket solemnly made its way past you.

The pavement’s coolness seemed to finally dissipate. It took you way too long to realize that it was backwards. In the hot afternoon sun, it should have been warm and in the evening, it should have been cool. It was cool in the afternoon and cold in the evening. You thought on it, and it seemed as if everything else was normal except for that one thing. The pavement was horribly off, like someone forgot how it worked when they made a world just for you. A world. Just for you.

Sam and Dean were very solemn as they built a funeral pyre. They were preparing yet another hunter’s funeral. This one was different though. They were used to burning their friends and family, that was the hunters’ way after all but this was for a kid. A kid they knew once, a kid they rescued and swore to secrecy. The Winchesters had gotten the kid’s phone messages too late; they arrived too late. The brothers had investigated the deaths of Toby and Chelsea, and while it took a little longer to get done, they did find Maddox.

Maddox was just as dead as the other two were. Sam and Dean tried to keep hope that they could save the last one, but they were just too damn late. Two years ago, they taught these kids about hunting and monsters, but they clearly didn’t teach enough. The Winchesters hoped none of the kids were aware of what happened, that the dreams were real enough so they’d never know the Djinn were feeding off of them.

They burned the carcass of Maddox where they found him, and Toby and Chelsea had been properly buried. They didn’t have the heart to dig them up to burn them; they wanted to leave them undisturbed for the grieving parents. Sam struggled to light the match, his tall frame sagging with sorrow. He remembered how brave this kid was, two years ago leading the assault against a zombified town. He knew he’d never meet this kid again, never speak again.

Dean was blaming himself. “Dean, it wasn’t your fault.” Sam tried to console his older brother.

“I know Sammy, I just can’t help thinking if I had gotten to my phone sooner. Maybe in another life, maybe we could have been…”

“I know, I know.” Sam choked back tears, “maybe we could have saved them, all of them. But we didn’t, we couldn’t. You remember the Djinn, it’s likely these kids died pain free, not knowing what was happening. We can take that with us, knowing they didn’t suffer.”

“Yeah, whatever. Just light the damn thing up, I want to get back on the road.”

Sam just looked at Dean and bit his tongue. Dean was dying inside and standing here watching an innocent kid burn in a funeral pyre, was just too much right now. Sam flicked the lighter on and tossed it onto the mound. Neither brother would ever admit it, but each said a silent prayer to Chuck to watch over these kids in heaven. Sam prayed for Chelsea to be reunited with her brother Tommy, and Dean just prayed that they’d have better heavens than they did final medicated dreams.