#i physically cannot tag everyone here unfortunately

[ellestrade]

What do you think makes a good Damian Wayne fanfic ? Like what are your standards and red flags when you're reading one

Usually, I would first look at the 'Damian Wayne-centric' tags on ao3 and go from there. I don't think I hold any fics up to a certain standard, though being able to read any is important to me— that means proper paragraphing, grammar, etc.

I know that most, if not all writers on ao3 are amateur writers, novice at best and, if I'm lucky, have been writing since the dawn of Wattpad, so it's not fair for me to expect top-tier writing/characterisation. Everyone always has some kind of trope to fall back into, myself included. It's just a matter if said trope is annoying or not to consume.

"Good Damian Wayne fanfics" are, itself, subjective— because good fanfics, for me, means that there are no attempts at butchering his character, along with his loved ones, and that includes Talia, Ra's, Maya and Mara, etc. If I open a fic and it's all just a grandiose of people putting down Talia (making her a bad/abusive mother) just to have Bruce hugs his son, then I'm closing the tab.

That being said, here are my red flags/pet peeves when it comes to reading a fanfic:

Any, and I mean any variant consisting of bashing the al-Ghuls.

"Talia al-Ghul is a bad mother"

"Talia al-Ghul is a rapist"

"Ra's al-Ghul is a creep"

"Damian is a bad sibling"

Usually, any fics that consist of these types of fics often came out as xenophobic or straight up racist— taking Grant Morrison's run (primarily Talia's character assassination) as gospel, or never reading canon material as a whole.

Of course, credits where it's due, there are some, and I mean a very small some, fics that don't transpire that image— using the tag that to simply convey Damian's time in the League, or phrasing it in a way that Talia/Ra's were an abuser once victim. However, making them bad in comparison is just a no-go for me.

Also, making Talia a rapist is a one way ticket for me to block you— because not only that it is wrong, but it also shows that you don't care enough to do thorough research and just take it as it is; Talia, pre-Morrison, was depicted as this kind and loving woman. She was studying medicine when she met Bruce. They genuinely have Chemistry together. She was also a victim of abuse herself, and she would rather die than inflict harm upon others on purpose. She loves her son, she loves her husband, she loves her family and she also loves herself.

Also, the al-Ghuls are also some of the most affectionate family there are— at least, of course, prior to the whole character assassination for the sake of making Bruce seem like the better parent in comparison. They aren't afraid to show genuine affection to one another, becoming physical and shows their devotion beyond what words could measure— which, is , unfortunate, since they're presented in Western media, and God knows how bad someone would interpret a relationship if 'I love you's aren't being exchanged regularly like therapy talks.

Dare I say, they might actually be better than the BatFam 🤷🤷 but then I might get hunted down for sports so I'll keep that opinion to myself, for now.

I'm also going to redirect you to this one lovely account, @rasalghul777 and read their take(s) on Brutalia. Here's a starting post and this one if you'd like to start. This person makes wonderful posts regarding Brutalia and the al-Ghuls as a whole than what I could ever conspire and I applaud them for it.

White savior complex

"Damian got his love for animals from [insert any BatFamily members here]"

"Damian learned to love through being with BatFam"

Again, this could also be read along with my first point, but can also be seen separately— I genuinely cannot stand when Damian was written in a way that he was a 'feral, stabby boi' prior his transgression into the BatFamily since it conveys distasteful perception of the Arabic people as a whole; them being uncultured or even uncivilized.

It's gross, I hate it, get it away from me.

Also, Damian inheriting his love for animals from anyone else other than the al-Ghuls is just pure fanon bullshit— because that means you have no perception of what the League of Assassins really are and just takes everything the fandom writes at face value; the League (including Talia and Ra's) aren't some 2-dimensional villains who kills. Reducing a villain to a mere trope just to prop up your white boy isn't going to make me like them. It just takes away the fun of it.

People just love to forget the 'eco' in 'eco-terrorist', which Ra's is.

If anything, Damian would inherit his genuine and deep love for animals and nature from him.

It's worth mentioning that the League of Assassins doesn't kill people just for the sake of violence— there's a reason why they're being categorized as eco-terrorists, and not the other category people love to associate Arabs with; they kill with reason. Similar to Poison Ivy, they specifically target any organisation that brings ruins to Earth and nature as a whole.

On another note, writing Damian as 'uncivilized' or 'feral' is just plain wrong. While it certainly can be cute, in a sort of gremlin-esque, little brother way (Lord knows how much I love my little brother, but simultaneously wanted to (subliminally) throw a chair at him) but depicting him as this one child that goes around stabbing everyone unprompted rubs me the wrong way.

This goes along with my first note, but Damian was raised as a prince when he was in the League; there were some instances where soldiers who came to pick him up refer to him as "Young prince". He has manners. He knows what to say and what to do when being confronted by the media. If anything, Damian would adapt 'Gotham's Darling Boy' facade faster than BatFam girlies mischaracterise the next POC character.

Damian does love his mother and grandfather and his family back in the League very, very much. Just because he doesn't convey it in a conventional, traditional way, doesn't mean he doesn't know how. He has his own ways of saying 'I love you's of his own.

People that clearly consume more fanon media in comparison to canon.

Tim Drake stans. Like, as a whole.

Let me begin by saying I actually do not care on how you plan to enjoy your nice little character trope, but believe me when I say that there are some weights to what's famously transpired in the fandom spaces.

It's the "fandom affects canon space" phenomenon all over again.

It should go without saying that what goes in the fandom stays in the fandom, and vice versa. Like I said before, people tend to fall back to their favourite trope— writing characters in a certain way, conveying certain messages, etc. However, in the midst of your 'creative freedom', it's easy to forget that these characters are not yours.

Fandom is derived from the canon substance, that's why it's so flexible and allows creative freedom in the first place. The consumer can decide what's canon in the fandom space (rejecting what's real), though it's important to remember that canon is still the blueprint and shouldn't be thoroughly ignored in favour of your dumb little incorrect quotes. Rejecting everything just means that you're creating an Oc, which, atp is what you should be doing instead of DTI a canon character.

It's why we got gems like these:

(I have reached tumblr maximum capacity for images, but know that there's more)

Again, do what you want, I don't care! But remember that when you're depicting certain character dynamics like these, it also affects other potential fans' views and first impressions of said character.

I don't want to go off tangent longer than necessary— but I actively avoid any variants of, "Hurt Tim Drake" tags on ao3. Mostly because mischaracterisation awaits me. The rest are because his fans are genuinely obnoxious and (more often than not) have little to no comprehension to actual canon substance.

I think that's all that I could muster up. Sorry this post is long, lol, but I got carried away.

[rulerzreachf4n7]

I'm sorry but I fucking hate proshippers so much so here's a whole post dedicated to shitting on them

also disclaimer YES I will be tagging the proship and anti proship tags so I can piss off the chronically online basement dwelling idiots :) and idgaf if proshippers have trauma cause it's not an excuse for their shitty and problematic actions!!!! Sincerely if you are a proshipper please consider jumping off a bridge!! Or at the bare minimum take a shower cause ew

And this whole post is literally just bullying the FUCK outta them so idk stanky people come at your own risk lol

AND AGAIN to clear up this isn't like rage bait or smth cause I fell like some people will accuse me this is all my genuine hate into a long ass post so yeah

Okay...LETS GET INTO THE FUCKING RANT NOW HEHEHE HEHE HEHEHE!!!!

I FUCKING HATE PROSHIPPERS!!!! I HOPE ALL OF YOU STANKY ASS BITCHESS GET THROWN OFF A FUCKING CLIFF AND GET A SAW STYLE EXECUTION CAUSE Y'ALL ARE FUCKING DISGUSTING I HATE YOU ALL

YOU ARE MENTALLY ILL IF YOU ARE A PROSHIPPER, END OF CONVERSATION

I COULDN'T GIVE A SHIT IF YOU HIT ME THE "B-But I have trauma 🥺🥺🥺" TOO BAD THAT'S NOT A FUCKING EXCUSE FOR UR SHITTY ONLINE ACTIONS

IMAGINE YOU PULL UP TO A FUCKING INTERVIEW AND THEY SHOW YOUR PATHETIC ACCOUNTS SAYING TO NORMALIZE A 30 YEAR OLD DATING A 13 YEAR OLD, THAT SHIT IS GENUINELY PATHETIC

I KNOW IT'S CRINGEY BUT WOMP WOMP IF UR A PROSHIPPER Y'ALL ARE UGLY AND STINKY

But now on a serious not hehe, the reason I'm making this isn't JUST soley to yknow shit on people who are mentally ill like people who think a MINOR and a LEGAL ADULT are allowed to date, which comes into another thing before I get genuine so bare with me lol

I DONT GIVE A FLYING FUCK IF IT'S FICTIONAL, FOR THE LOVE GOD PLEASE SEARCH UP THE SLENDERMAN CASE WHERE THESE TWO GIRLS KILLED THEIR FRIEND CAUSE THEY THOUGHT SLENDERMAN WAS REAL AND THOUGHT THEY WOULD ENTER HIS KINGDOM AND BE WITH HIM, AND HE'S FICTIONAL, THAT CASE IS ALL Y'ALL NEED TO REALIZE FICTION CAN AFFECT REALITY AND I HAVE SM MORE REASON TO BACK THIS UP BUT I'M TOO LAZY TO TYPE IT OUT 😭

Okay! Back to seriousness I just thought I'd add that in as a little addition hehe >_<

So, like I said before, I lowkey just added this as an extra part cause I couldn't shit on proshippers FOREVER (lowkey bcuz I was running out of insults n threats lol)

Nonetheless I have a reason for shitting on them, although not being a proshipper EXACTLY I have been through I guess, similar paths as they have? Best way I could describe it ig, ofc not sharing what I mean since it's private but let's just say I was an unfortunate child looking at inappropriate comics 🙁

The reason for this part of the post...ITS NOT THAT FUCKING HARD TO STOP WHAT YOUR DOING

Like I said, I was never a proshipper, but I have been in similar situations as they have been, although I've never made an account glorifying rape, SA, grooming, pedophilia, I can just assume what I would do in their places

Dear proshippers,

Your probably complaining and not knowing why your getting so much death threats and harassment along with a side of hate (rightfully so you deserve them) and your mental health might be low

Please know it is your fault for making your accounts in the first place, you are a terrible person for saying all of these things such as rape, sexual assault, grooming, and incest are okay and you are not mentally well

And your probably wondering,

"How do I stop the hate, harassment, and probably death threats with even getting your address leaked?"

It's simple, DELETE YOUR FUCKING ACCOUNT, or even worse just turn off ur comments but that won't help with people slipping in a few people wishing death up in you through DMS

IT IS GENUINELY NOT THAT FUCKING HARD

I don't know what trauma you have but it shouldn't (and never in the first place) be SO BAD to the point where you physically CANNOT deactivate your account, IT IS SO FUCKING EASY AND YOU'LL SAVE YOURSELF A FEW SUICIDAL THOUGHTS

I know everyone one is different, but if you are a proshipper that has trauma, you shouldn't have a fucking account to begin with, and you ARE THE PROBLEM if you acknowledge the trauma, noticing you keep supporting and glorifying problematic actions, complain that you keep getting harassed and wonder why, and you just don't give a shit, not like in a "oh I don't know what to do anymore!!! 🥺🥺🥺" way, in a "oh, I don't give a shit I live for incest and adults grooming children!!!" Way, and ur also probably a pedo if ur an adult proshipper too

So, what else? Yeah, there's a shit more, but onto a better side, ones with actually good coping mechanisms!!

And a bit of a disclaimer, if your rage bait is proshipping, genuinely fuck you, and if ur a proshipper who acknowledges everything bad about it and just doesn't give a fuck, fuck you too and seek a rope to hang around your neck you fucking pedophile

Okay, coping mechanisms! I know this is probably not the best option due to most trauma which I'm guessing is probably from a family member, if it's not a good way to cope is some clean to your family, ofc under some circumstances it's NOT the best option, but if you can you definitely should try!

Also google is free yk...literally search up healthy coping mechanisms and it'll give you a huge ass list, and yet YOU STILL chose to ship a minor and adult together...how unfortunate...

Another way to cope is, and genuinely sounds pathetic as hell but bare with me...CHARACTER FUCKING AI, I mean, there are therapist bots so maybe they can help you??? And in all honesty they're really good at comforting and giving advice despite being ai, and I've tried it before...yeah embarrassed to say I've shed a tear every once in a while

And the last one IF you have the money, time, and generally the courage, book a threapy session, I cannot stress it enough, but I won't be surprised cause every proshipper is probably under the age of 16 years old

Yuhhh anyways that's all I gotta say, I know it's cringey asf but womp womp to proshippers I hate y'all despite giving some coping mechanisms and ACTUAL ways to like, stop the rightful hate you deserve lol

[myunghology]

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒, thirst trappers 🔥 :: rebounds (derogatory) :: main m.list

— RITSU SAKUMA

19, Surprisingly Yumenosaki's journalist from the way he puts and writes his words. Only agreed to see Mao in their meetings— and maybe even perhaps [Name], when they were still in Yumenosaki.

Still horrendously down bad for [Name], it's actually quite sad and sickening. Actually likes studying now, if he can't fall asleep while doing so.

Everyone in his friend group says the song "The Man Who Can't Be Moved" reminds them of him. Always listens to it every night anyway.. They can tell by his discord status.

— TSUKASA SUOU

Doesn't even know why he's in the friendgroup. Just get him away from Yumenosaki as far as possible. (He's begging.) Recently turned 18, and they refuse to stop babying him.

Gets physical when he gets mad surprisingly, and yet he's the most love sick loser ever LMAOO WHAT. He's so miserable I can't help but love him.

Says "Ermm.. Guys ☝️" Unironically. Doesn't even do it on purpose atp like what😭

— LEO TSUKINAGA

UNFORTUNATELY HAS BRAINROT HUMOR. "Ermm what the sigma!" God please help him.. To the point that Tsukasa just accepted, can you imagine that.

Music obsessed, has the most versatile music taste here. "FEIN FEIN FEIN" to "Good luck, babe!" Someone take him to a mental hospital!

Always gets called to the principal's office or either the clinic from how much scars he has, or from how much he vandalized the school at this point.

— IZUMI SENA

19, other person who has the best music taste! Shares earphones with his friends, he fw Frank Ocean and Tyler the Creator fr 🔥🙏. Model, literally on every magazine you can find.

Has the biggest gyatt in the friend group™, and the best fashion taste! Other than Arashi :3. Sassiest and the most petty mf EVER I SWEAR BRO

The official group bully. Whenever they do those friend group trends, the others never fail to mention this. Has the most opps out of everyone..

— ARASHI NARUKAMI

19, Has absolutely no opps at all I swear. Best fashion taste part 2!! And TRULY everyone's older sister. Knows [Name]'s friend group and is good friends with her and Yin!! Mom friend things.

Loves pastel colors, and is also a model!! Can probably find her and Izumi on all the Magazines you find. CHAPPELL ROAN STAN 100%

Plays dress to impress on roblox, and has permanent VIP. Sometimes gifts VIP to her other friends too (*´ω｀)o

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓; 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐃! send in an ask or comment to be added ! if your name isn't highlighted, it means i cannot tag you. please notify me if you've change your user. 🏷

[middleearthpixie]

After the Fire ~ Epilogue

Summary: Following the Battle of the Five Armies, a grievously wounded Thorin is brought back to the kingdom of Erebor, which is still mostly in ruins. Although he’s survived the wounds he received at the end of Azog’s blade, his recovery is far from complete. Grief, regret, anger, all are making his journey that much more difficult and the physical recovery isn’t quite the most difficult challenge he faces.

Jasna Stoneham is no stranger to loss, as she is a survivor of Smaug’s wrath upon Esgaroth. When she is asked to help the dwarves healers of Erebor, her instinct is to say no, but she needs the job, and so agrees to it. However, no one told her that of all the patients, she would be responsible for the king himself, Thorin Oakenshield. 

Unfortunately, the road to recovery isn’t necessary a smooth one, but if there’s one thing Thorin will learn, it’s that Jasna is just as stubborn as he is and for every step back he takes, she is there to push him three steps forward. And Jasna will soon find out that there is a gentle, softer side to the dwarf king, one that very few people have ever seen and one he fights to keep hidden from her as well. But like his recovery, that is also easier said than done. 

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x ofc Jasna Stoneham

Characters: Jasna, Thorin, Dwalin, Thranduíl

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 737

Tag: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketchy-loo6195 @sherala007 @enchantzz @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @sorisooyaa @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc @buckybarnes-thorin @glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @albionscastle @absentmindeduniverse @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here.

 

A Year Later

A gentle breeze rustle through the grass, through the leafy canopies on either side of the river and the sun filtered through to keep the chill from the breeze. That didn't stop Jasna from unfolding a small, pale blue blanket from the bag she’d brought to place over the baby, who slept peacefully in her basket, which was set alongside Jasna on the bigger blanket Thorin had spread out for them earlier. 

At not quite three months old, Elina already resembled her father with her shock of thick black hair and pale blue eyes, and Erebor’s newest princess had no idea how much of a celebration her arrival brought. In some ways, the dwarves were still celebrating.

“Was she cold?”

Jasna looked up to see Thorin on the edge of the blanket, standing just far enough away so the water dripping from his hair and body didn't land on his daughter, and she smiled. “No, but you know me. I worry. And I know she’s fine and will let me know if she’s too cold, but I cannot help myself.”

She peered about Thorin to smile at the laughter and splashing still coming from the river. It was a glorious day and the dwarves had all decided to treat themselves to a day off. It had quickly become something of a party, with fires being built and food and drink brought out as well. The tang of roasting meat hung in the air, as both Óin and Glóin manned those fires to cook for everyone else. 

Thorin sank onto the blanket on the far side of Elina’s basket. “She’s up.”

“Is she? I thought I had at least another half an hour to go.”

“She thinks otherwise.”

“She usually does.” Jasna smiled, passing him a towel. “Just in case.”

“She’s fine.” He gently eased Elina from her basket and cradled her against him and for probably the millionth time, Jasna could not believe how at ease he looked with the infant in his arms. He’d been terrified of hurting her at first, but once she and Narnerra convinced him he truly had nothing to worry about, he relaxed.

It was a sight to see, the mighty King Under the Mountain and his daughter, for no one could reduce him to mush quite the way this one tiny girl did and anyone who saw them together smiled and sighed wistfully at the sight.

Jasna sat up, shifting to sit beside him, and leaned her head against his shoulder. “This has been a wonderful day. I don't wish to see it end. Look at them.”

She nodded toward the river, where Fíli and Shael splashed about, oblivious to everyone around them as he caught her around the waist and drew her in for a kiss. “He is so happy now.”

“He has everything he wanted, and that’s because of you, mesmel,” Thorin told her, leaning to press a kiss into the top of her head. “We all have everything we wanted because of you, you know.”

“I just happened to be able to help.”

“And you did.” He shifted to set Elina back in her basket, where she lay there just watching them with wide blue eyes, which slowly closed once more. “I survived and found my One, I saw my daughter born, and am able to finally, finally be happy, Kíli has survived to marry his Tauriel and see his son born, and Fíli has survived to walk again and to find his One in Miss Whitbow. And Mahal willing, they will also be blessed with pebbles of their own. And none of this would have happened, had it not been for you.”

She smiled, tucking her head against his shoulder once more. “You should go and enjoy yourself. It isn’t often the King Under the Mountain is allowed a day off.”

“I will.” He reached to catch her by the chin, and tilted her face to his. “It also isn’t often you and I are afforded a quiet moment, either.”

With that, he bent to her and his lips met hers in a soft, teasing kiss. No, they weren’t often given many quiet moments these days, but Jasna didn't mind that so much as it meant she savored these moments so much more. And with that, she slid an arm about his neck and lost herself in the fire of his kiss. 

The End

[an-unraveling-unknown]

It's been a bit, and I think I've forgotten some. Can you give me a brief rundown of your little guys?

Hiya Bones, I WOULD LOVE TO GIVE YOU A BRIEF RUNDOWN ON MY LITTLE GUYS!!! (thank you thank you thank you!!) (its not as brief as it should be I'm so sorry)

I still have yet to name this project: My first original project! I have no ideas for the plot LMAO /crying a little

Locke: Ancient android cursed to carry the physical fear of an entire very dead race of beings that they have identified as 'human,' the same thing they classify the people they see today. Travels a lot, he generally likes to keep moving - has taken up the mantel of unofficial psychopomp. Likes people (from a distance,) dressing up, engaging in human activism in whatever way they can, and Deimos. Dislikes having a lack of bodily autonomy. Was called 'Rue' once (Agender, but he has a fondness for He/They)

Deimos: Your local embodiment of human fear, and human fear specifically. Laughs in the face of gender on a daily basis, mostly due to the fact that he's a shapeshifter (generally shifting into the specifically held fear of whatever society he happens to be around) Drama queen, constantly makes either slightly too old or slightly too new pop culture references that Locke could never hope to understand, but he found a good audience with The Children. Deeply just wants social connection, a bit of a hard feat when you're immortal, and unfortunately something he couldn't find in Locke due to their own circumstances. For a while, at least. (Genderfluid, but currently favors he/him)

The Children: Collective term for all the people and non-people Deimos has unofficially adopted - still workin on them, but I CAN tell you that Charlotte (third youngest) has ties to 'Charlotte's Web' and the 1829 poem 'The Spider and the Fly' and also happens to be an anthropomorphic spider, while Marley is (probably) from Boston (youngest). Not all technically children by human standards, but pretty much everyone is a kid when you're Deimos's age

(other little guys below. forgive me for the massive text blocks)

Undertale AU: Some context, this revolves around two of my ocs in an au that is basically be adding non-canon context with plot; Sunny and Z!* Sunny ran away from home after extenuating circumstances and an argument with her parents, kind of as a 'last hurrah' of sorts, and Z tagged along because of his own reasons. Both of them found themselves in the underground and are now constantly wondering if they went and died about it because Undertale is actually a thing that exists in their universe

Sunny: He is a trainwreck, and is also probably the closest I'll ever get to a self-insert (but it's moreso me when I was 12-ish inserted into a 17 y/o's body). Compassionate at heart, she likes the sciences and being outdoors and philosophical things; math is latin to her (dead,) and she knows a fair amount of sign language. Utterly thrilled to be in the underground for the most part, something he and Z have conflict about - doesn't like talking about his childhood. Yellow coded as in warning (She/Him, Aroace)

Z: Also a huge freakin clusterfuck and Sunny's best friend, but Z is more contained than not. The funny one of the two, Super tech efficient, the fella loves cryptography and all things coding, made a rick-roll virus once on the family computer and now that very same computer exists half-alive in the garage - he'd like to be a game dev someday. Used to get hurt and sick a lot when he was younger. Z refuses to be alone with his thoughts, so he practically throws himself at anything declared constructive at a contstant rate, very much unlike his friend. Knows Sunny has a lot going on with the imminent move to Europe and all, but they shouldn't, cannot stay here damnit (He/Him, Straight)

*not their actual names, but they can't really say their actual names due to extenuating plot reasons and 'Sunny' n 'Z' is what Flowey called them upon first encounter.

BG3: The Baldur's Gate 3 duders!! neither Aeonian nor Monad really fit into forgotten realms lore, considering I picked them up from a separate Stardew Valley AU project and threw them at my current hyperfixation without a lick of research cos I figured it would be no problem. I was sadly mistaken, but we're making it work (even amidst the greek myth n gaelic folklore parallels which are now just outside-of-story meta)

Aeonian: My Tav!! Best put (in your words exactly) as a sad little tissue paper man. Unofficial bard and humanoid-shaped creature (Physical Embodiment of Death at Sea, to be precise) who is not normally humanoid-shaped, but is doing it anyway because their sister is missing and they have a guard dog complex to uphold. Looks like a very tall and very blue twig that could snap in the wind, but what they lack in intimidation they receive in cleverness and wit with a little bit of added bardic charmisa. They did not at all wish to claw themselves out of the sea with gritted teeth and sheer drive alone, and while they aren't necessarily cold, they also aren't here to make friends. This is currently being conflicted by the fact that they give a shit. Character development follows the rock cycle (They/Them, Demirose)

Monad: Aeonian's older sister and Embodiment of Life at Sea - the braver of the two, having ventured up to the surface first and kept going despite being kidnapped by pirates more times than ve can count on both hands - ve is here to have a good time and a good time only. Lively and charismatic, he loves the pleasures of life, people, life in general, and Aeonian. Took up the druid class, as she told her sibling, and was in the midst of learning how to wild shape before she went up on a surface outing one day and didn't come back. Ve's more secretive than Aeon knows (Ve/Her/Himself and very much a lesbian)

[tarabyte3]

It doesn't matter how old Obi-Wan is. Qui-Gon has known him since he was a child. He raised him and is a father figure to him. He shouldn't ever be attracted to him! How do you know see how creepy that is?

Not only that but people draw art of Obi-Wan as small and childlike in sexual situations with him all the time where you can see his padawan braid. So stop acting like thats ok. The whole ship is disgusting.

Okay, so you just like arguing with me specifically then? Is this our enemies to lovers arc? Are you flirting with me? You wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.

Because you're not changing my mind here. All of this is just making me more stubborn. I will die on the Caesar hill, and I'm willing to die on the QuiObi hill, too.

Also, unfortunately, I cannot shut the fuck up and I'm sick of this. 🙃

Qui-Gon may have guided Obi-Wan as a mentor in the force, but he didn't raise him as a child in the way you imply. He didn't take Obi-Wan on as an apprentice until he was 13, and even then it was begrudgingly (he lost his previous Padawan, he was not interested in having another). He never showed affection or comforted him like a father figure. Instead, he actually fucked off a LOT and left his Padawan alone, so Obi-Wan half raised himself. Surprisingly, they didn't get along! They butted heads all the time! In several of the novels, Obi-Wan thinks about how complicated Qui-Gon is, how different they are, and how both of them are constantly struggling to understand one another. He reflects on how, despite that, they eventually (mostly) overcame their differences, became close over the years, and learned to work very well together. Like partners. He thinks about his friendship with Qui-Gon. Even in canon, it’s not as black and white as you make it out to be.

Plus, you do realize humans are complex beings. People change all the time. It's the consequence of being alive. Most people are not the exact same person from year to year, let alone 5, 10, or 12 years later. I’m sure as hell not. The nature of relationships change all the time, too. You can fall in and out of love with people. You can become estranged from them when you become too different from the people you were before. You can be friends with someone for years, and then, one day, something happens and suddenly you see them in a completely different light. For better or worse. That's love.

To your second point: My sibling in Satan, once again, you can be a Padawan and be an adult! They are not the same thing and it does not depend on age. Being a Padawan just means you're still learning to be a Jedi and all the responsibility and control that entails. How long that takes is different for everyone. Also, you do know that Obi-Wan is physically smaller than Qui-Gon, right? Like Ewan McGregor is 5’10”, but Liam Neeson is 6’4”. There is a natural 6 inch size difference between those two grown ass adult men. Like, have you seen what Obi-Wan's lightsaber looks like in his hand compared to in Qui-Gon's??!!? 🥵 Of course Obi-Wan looks smaller. He IS. It's not that deep, and it doesn't mean he's a fucking child! Stop being weird and gross about it.

And finally, and most importantly: THEY'RE. NOT. FUCKING. REAL. If you only look at them in The Phantom Menace, we know almost NOTHING about them, their relationship, or when they met. But even then, it still DOESN'T MATTER. Again, we're playing with dolls and making shit up! We can change it all to fit the way we want it! They can be whatever or whoever we want, in whatever capacity that means to us.

If you don’t personally like it, block the tag and move the fuck on, christ. It's not that hard! I shouldn't have to explain how to exist as a person on the Internet to you. I already have a child, I don't need another one.

Now good riddance ✌️

[imthediamondintherough]

Can't recall if i released information about Hestia that contradicts this little drabble but here ya go!

Tag list: @0lympian-c0uncil

(If you other readers want to be added send a ask or a message!)

Think of it as an apology for the main content being so late.

Story:

Warmth of the Family...

"Is he going off to see another mortal?" A solemn woman's voice asked.

Hestia tore her gaze away from the pizza oven where she watched her veggie pizza bake. Her long green, sleeveless summer dress was decorated with dark blue peacock feathers.

Hera had broken three of her nails and her mascara was ruined. Obvious signs that while Zeus had been gone for a few days and while it was in her nature to worry, she'd recognized the pattern long ago and immediately fell into despair.

Hestia looked up at her younger sister. She was older despite physically appearing to be fifteen. Unfortunately she was also almost a foot shorter than Hera who stood at nearly seven feet tall. She wanted to hug her and had no problem nearly jumping to hug her younger sister.

"he is down visiting mortals yes but ... He is not visiting a woman I don't think." Hestia worded as wisely as she could.

"Hah! As if he knows not to mix business with pleasure!" Hera scoffed. She pulled away from the hug about to go break something and sulk some more.

Hestia thought it best to tell her now before Zeus got in over his head like with the Giants' War, and end up dragging them all into it as well.

"There is a powerful force waking up, if actions are not taken to stop it from raising, everything we've built till now could be in danger!" Hestia blurted.

"I know my family, we cannot face what is approaching, the visions I see in the flames-- the world I see..." Hestia began but stopped to look anxiously into the fire, seeing things not many others could easily understand.

"What?! Is that what he's looking into?" Hera asked.

" Why didn't he tell me?!" She demanded, her disappointment in his possibly latest affair currently forgotten. She had grabbed Hestia's shoulders and shook her hoping to get a less vague answer.

Hestia braced herself and opened her mouth

"Hello lovely ladies! Is there trouble? Oh Hera dear have you looked in the mirror?" Eris asked as she flung open the palace doors Hecate in tow. Eris and Hecate were of course good friends and regularly stopped by for a bit of mischief. Today they both wore sparkling black dresses, Eris' v shaped neckline dipping deep enough to make Aphrodite jealous should she appear to get new gossip.

Hera glanced at the door. Aphrodite did not walk in. Hera relaxed.

"Hestia has informed me that we're going to have family troubles again," she voice letting go of her sister's shoulders.

In an instant two heads swiveled to Hestia who looked crestfallen.

"Give me your hands," Hestia said and all the goddesses present joined hands.

Everyone looked at Hecate who normally did not willingly touch anyone besides Persephone, Hades, Eris and Demeter. And the latter two were only on "good" days. "WHAT? I wanna know too okay? I may have to tell Hades and the Queen if this threat is truly powerful like you say." She reasoned.

Eris was hurriedly nodding, "could be interesting, so what do we do next?"

Hestia concentrated, she couldn't see the future clearly like Apollo could but she could sometimes see other family members and their lives. Demigods were easier since goddesses and gods didn't exactly like someone looking after them and trying to offer wisdom on things no one else should know about. A comforting talk and a cup of tea, hot or iced typically fixed this.

That boy... Anthony; he sent chills down her spine and she wasn't sure why. She'd heard his earlier pleas for protection and guidance to a shelter to rest at and she'd done the bare minimum to encourage him, her normal ability to reach into hearts and reassure them of love, safety and optimism. He'd been nearly completely blocked off from her reach. When she tried to see if her flames could guarantee her safety she saw visions of the cities within Olympus in ruin. These were the things she showed her present family now. When the visions ended everyone was panting and looking nervous.

After a long moment of silence, presumably spent in contemplation, Eris said "I smell pizza,"

Hera and Hecate laughed silently thanking Eris for disarming the tense atmosphere.

Hestia relaxed. She grabbed oven mitts to hold the metal plate and sternly said, "everyone gets one slice"

"Do you even know who we are ?" Hermes asked.

"HERMES?!" Everyone except Eris shrieked. Eris grinned "come to enjoy the food?"

"Everyone here knows pizza calls me better than the phone ever will" Hermes said.

"Now Lady Hestia, goddess of good cooking I humbly request a slice of pizza" he put his hands together like he was going to begin praying.

Hestia smiled and nodded. Her earlier unrest was fading. Then she suddenly recalled that Anthony was approaching the Farm Demeter resolved to maintain.

"Oh skata!" She said. Hermes did a double take nearly choking on the soda pop that materialized.

Chapter 0 End

[yokohamabeans]

I refuse to pay for extra storage on Google and so I must purge my files. 🤡 Found an early draft for the first chapter of Past-Tense Events, my Rindou fic that unfortunately never went beyond its prologue. It was supposed to set up the childhood friends-to-lovers-to-strangers plot of it.

Really doubt I can continue it, considering my extreme focus on ROAC, but I didn't want to waste what I've already written, so I'm just gonna dump this here...

Characters / Tags: Kid!Rindou, Kid!Ran & Reader

Childhood meeting. No romance, not even a friendship. Nothing much is going on here, in fact. Dumb kids being dumb kids. Rated 'G' for your Grandma 'cuz there'll be no problem if she reads this.

1994

Your father warned you about boys like them.

Right before teaching you how to put someone in an armlock. It’s one of the few things he’s taught you before he left for prison.

He said to you: look, kid, when I’m up in the slammer, it’s on you to protect the old bat, ya got me? If you see any wankers looking for funny business around grandma’s shop, you tell them we ain’t sellin’ and you twist their arm like this. Ya followin’? You do this to anyone who’s mean to you too. I’ll be out in no time, so you just hold the fort down for a bit, yeah?

(In hindsight: the sensibility of telling a seven-year-old to physically take on threats is at best questionable, but your father was neither the brightest nor most responsible man. He was hardly even a good man. You, however, cannot decide if he was a bad father—you simply don’t have enough memories of him to make a fair judgement. But about the little ones that you do: when you think of them, you think of them fondly.)

Shortly after your father gave that lesson, the men in blue came and pushed his head into their car. His words made you feel important and you wanted to be important, so you spent your time after school perched on a tall stool behind the counter of Yoshioka’s Fruit & Vegetables, eyes peeled all the way back for the trouble you were prepared for. You waited and waited, but no one brought any ‘funny business’ to the shop: as far as you knew, the same farmers still delivered to your grandmother and the same housewives still bought from her, despite their whispers about her son. Grandma ended up making more use of you as a cashier than a bodyguard. Days passed like a slow summer afternoon, and you were beginning to think that the wankers were never going to come.

Until one day, they do.

You were chewing on the tip of your pencil, trying to count all the notes and coins in the cash drawer, when the rough sound of metal on asphalt fills your ears. You peer over the counter: there are two boys standing outside, scowling so deeply that it shocked you. The taller one between them is bouncing the end of a steel pipe on the ground, and something about the way it glints makes the hair at the back of your neck stand up.

Wankers! You balk. They really are here!

“Oi, where’s your mom?” the shorter boy drawls. His hands are in his pockets, shoulders round in a slouch. Didn’t anyone tell him that is bad posture? “We’re here for the protection money.”

“Protection money?” you ask, voice loud from being behind the counter still. “What’s that?”

“Get your mom. She’ll know.”

You frown, brain whirring. Who does he think he is, ordering you around when he doesn’t even look any older than you? And everyone in the neighbourhood knows that you don’t have a mom—for a period of time it was the only thing anybody talked about. Even the kids at school know about it, which is why they speak to you as little as they politely can. This boy must not be from the area. You’d remember him if he was: you’ve never seen such angry eyebrows on anyone before. How are they so arched? They look like the McDonald’s sign! What kind of business do kids like him have with a grown-up, anyway?!

Funny business, that’s what!

“Noone’s in now,” you tell him cautiously. Your throat is dry because that is only partially true; your grandma is not in the shop but at home on the second floor above it, boiling soup for dinner. You’re praying that she stays up there. “Go away. We’re not giving you any money.”

“Ha?” he raises an eyebrow obnoxiously high, then turns to the taller boy. “Aniki, did I hear that right? Did she really say she ain’t gonna pay?”

The way he rolls his tongue reminds you of the way your father did (which grandma told you to never imitate because only ‘hooligans’ talked like that). Perhaps because of this, you are a tad bit less afraid of him.

“Yeah, you heard it right, Rindō,” the other boy, his older brother you presume, replies. You think you’re seeing double until you notice that his eyebrows are way less mean than the other’s. He raps the steel pipe in his hand harder against the ground. “And that’s a problem, isn’t it?”

“Go away!” you yell again, trying to drown the noise by chanting your father’s words in your head. “We ain’t got nothing to sell to you!”

“Look, girlie, it’s simple.” ‘Rindō’ growls, stepping into the shop. He’s two fruit-racks away and way too close for comfort. You don’t even realise you are backing off until your spine hits the wall behind you. “If you don’t pay your protection money, you don’t get protection! From us!”

Then, to your utter horror, he picks a tomato off a rack and flings it to the ground where it bursts in a bloody splat. You gasp at the audacity of this boy, struggling to grasp how anyone can be so offensive. Your face grows hot at the thought of your grandma finding out about the mess, then even hotter when you realise that Rindō is eating up your fear and anger with a grin. What an absolute wanker!

“We don’t wanna do this, you know,” his aniki says, swinging the pipe to rest it on his shoulder. “Just pay us the money and we’ll leave.”

“Stop it! Leave us alone!” Water breaks out of your eyes and it humiliates you. “Stop throwing my grandma’s tomatoes! They’re expensive!”

“Oh yeah?” Rindō sneers. Another tomato down. And another one. “Make me.”

So, you make him.

It all happens in a flash. You lose all senses to a mad rage, figuring you’d rather be angry than afraid and ashamed. You leap over the counter, snatch a carrot off its basket and lunge at the boy with everything you’ve got. Your scrawny body, electric with excitement, slams into his and you bulldoze him to the ground. “Get out of our shop! We ain’t sellin’!”

“What the fuck?!” he yells.

“I! Said! We ain’t sellin’!” You manage to get three hits in before the carrot breaks in half. Rindō starts to ball his fist underneath you, so, like how your old man always did, you grab his arm, push his cheek to the floor and swing your legs over his head and torso.

It is the smoothest armlock you’ve ever manoeuvred. Papa would’ve been proud.

“Rindō!” the other boy shrieks. He drops the pipe and digs his hands into his hair, petrified and completely lost about what to do while his brother is shouting and thrashing in pain under your grip. “Get off him! You’re gonna tear off his arm!”

“Get off me, damnnit!” Rindō yelps, his eyes dewing. A stream of what you’ll later learn to be expletives spews out of his mouth. “Get off! It hurts!”

You don’t hear him—you don’t hear anything at all, only the mission your father left you with. But it isn’t easy: Rindō is much stronger than you imagined. It’s taking every single muscle in you to keep him locked between your limbs. You don’t even remember breathing this hard when you performed the armlock on your dad! This Rindō may very well be stronger than him; you absolutely cannot let him go.

“Aniki! My arm! It’s breaking!”

“Hang in there, Rindō!”

“It’s gonna snap! It’s gonna snap!”

“Let go of my brother!”

"Aniki! Help!"

And you’re just screaming hysterically through the chaos.

[rotomblr-offmychest]

I just lost my soon about a week ago. And it feels like everyone else has been moving on from it far sooner than I ever will. It still hurts like the same day I lost him. I still cannot stop thinking about what happened and what I could have done to change it. My little boy was taken away from me and I feel horrible feeing any sense of happiness from the things I enjoy now. He should have still been here. He shouldn't be in the ground. He should have been happy and not murdered.

It hurts. But I have to pretend it doesn't. I haven't eaten much at all, slept for far less than I should have. But I have others to care for and pretending it's okay is the only thing keeping me from breaking down. I don't want to be a burden.

And I'm sorry for saying something rather heavy on here but I just need to get that off my chest.

//feel free to delete this if this is too much for this blog.

Ok let's load the tags before I really get into this. Also doing the read more for the people who somehow didn't dip out with the tags or reading the ask but don't want to read about this topic. Yes those people exist, no I don't know why.

First and most importantly, my condolences, Anon. Your son was murdered, the ones that could've done something to stop it and are responsible is the murderer.

Look. I get the logic of feeling guilty for getting happy during this time. Here's the thing though, logic can be stupid. Logic can make "some people abuse pokémon" into "all pokémon should be released". In the same way logic can make "we will never share joy again" into "I should never feel joy again". The base facts are unfortunately true but the conclusions don't necessarily follow. They can challenged & changed. It unfortunately takes effort though. You don't have to start immediately, fuck knows how tired you must be with all the emotions and still looking after people physically and also emotionally.

Anon, since you sent this in and I did this for you I'm gonna ask you do something for me. Eat something. I'm thinking a toasted sandwich but you can pick. And I'll be transparent with you, I'm 100% trying to manipulate you based on your sense of duty to others. I don't think you knowing that would change the outcome.

Hope the pain eases a bit.

[ink-and-dagger]

Hi Legacy, thank you for your comment and for your compliment about my writing. Unfortunately, Tumblr wouldn’t let me leave this response to your comment under the fic, so I am having to add it onto your reblog. Something I really, genuinely, did not want to have to do.

I hear what you are saying, and am in full agreement with you - tags play a vital role in reader protection, and there’s nothing more frustrating (and in some cases dangerous) than people misusing them.

However, a few words now in my own defence.

I am not new here. I have been writing and posting Silco fics since Arcane first aired back in 2021. It seems more likely in this case that you are new if not to the Arcane fandom then to my blog/writing specifically - so allow me to provide a bit of context which may help, because I don’t believe this case is as cut-and-dry as you believe it to be. I began posting my multi-chapter Silco x Reader fic Drink With Me in January 2022, and updated regularly until its completion in July of that same year. I was extremely lucky in that my story gained a lot of traction and interaction within the fandom throughout that time. People became extremely invested in the Reader character, and would ask me all sorts of questions about her. That’s how Astrid was born. She became a point of reference outside the fic for those who wanted someone to visualise, whilst the fic itself remained strictly a Reader Insert. In the few years since this story wrapped up, my followers have remained invested in the ‘Drink With Me’ universe (again, I’m incredibly lucky and thankful for this), and to this day I receive tons of requests for bonus content set within this universe that I try to fulfil whenever I can. Despite these ficlets being connected to a main multi-chapter fic, most of them can easily be read as a standalone and do not require the context or any prior knowledge of the main fic to make sense. Additionally, as I did with the main fic, they are always written in 2nd person, the character is never referred to by name, and I never use any physical descriptors beyond anatomical ones during smut. If you were to take away any and all tags and look purely at the text alone, it reads as a traditional reader insert, which is why I tag it as such. I include the ‘Astrid’ and ‘OC’ tags for those people who are familiar with the DWM fic and universe and who specifically follow me for this reason, so that they know in their minds that the ficlet relates to the world/timeline of Drink With Me in some way shape or form. I think the point I’m trying to make is that those who are familiar with me and my work will see the ‘Astrid/OC’ tag and go “Ah cool it’s this universe”. Whereas for everyone else I add the ‘can be read as gen!reader insert’ note at the top so that they can go “Ah cool, let me just ignore that character tag then” and happily read it as a general reader insert fic perfectly fine. I hope that makes a bit more sense as to why I tag this way, why I’ve always tagged this way, and why I will continue to tag this way for my Drink With Me adjacent works. If I ever were to write something in 1st or 3rd person or that described the MC in a very specific way, then I would of course not tag that as a reader fic.

Now, so long as we’re here discussing fandom etiquette, I’d like to politely point out that adding your grievance onto the reblog of a specific fic is not a ‘gentle reminder’ - it’s a full-frontal attack on the author who wrote that fic. It would have been far better for you to create your own, separate post addressing the fandom as a whole, or to send me a quiet, private comment/DM on the side.

As I’ve already said, I empathise with your point of view, and I hope you are able to empathise with mine. If the way I choose to tag my work bothers you, then please feel free to block my account so that I don’t show up whilst you are searching for content. At the end of the day we are all individual humans - you cannot expect everyone to interpret/measure/categorise everything in the same way you would, and it’s imperative to take some measure of responsibility for cultivating your own online space, instead of relying on others to do it for you.

What if Astrid find a pic of young Silco by accident hehhehehehhehehehehhe

Snapshot

A Drink With Me ficlet

870 words || Established relationship || Silco x Astrid (but can be read as gen f!reader) || SFW but suggestive || MDNI

“Oh my Gods.”

“What?”

“Oh. My Gods.”

Time has stripped the photograph between your fingers of its glossy sheen and has left the edges blunt and frayed, but you would recognise those features anywhere; no less sharp nor striking through the faded sepia.

“This is you.”

It had slipped from between two ledgers as you’d perused Silco’s bookshelves – an activity more to entertain your idle hands than a genuine search for reading material. The image itself is simple and candid: A young man, seemingly oblivious to the fact his portrait is being taken, sat at a familiar bar, with eyes downcast toward a spread of papers.

That same man looks up at you now from a very similar spread of papers. “What is?”

“This.” You drift over to his desk and perch on its edge, all the while unable to tear your gaze from the photo in your hands. The pitch dark hair swept back into a low bun. The familiar strays – the same ones that even now will always be the first to escape any styling under the combing of agitated fingers – falling forward into his face, only far longer and thicker than you’re used to. His skin, unblemished and smooth, save for the chronic furrow between his brows – etched there long before time and tragedy ravaged the rest.

Silco hums absently; an indication that he acknowledges your discovery but finds little interest in it. You can imagine the man in the photograph making the exact same noise, were someone to distract him from his paperwork for a reason he deemed benign. You flip the photo over. No date.

“How old are you here?”

Silco exhales through his nose, places his pen down with a pointed clack, and extends his hand wordlessly toward you.

“Hah! Do you think I’m wet behind the ears?” you hold the photograph out of his reach, “You can tell just fine from over there thank you very much.”

He cuts you a scathing glance, before leaning forward in his chair with a foreboding creak to peer more closely at the image. His scarred lips purse slightly in thought.

“Mid–late twenties. I can’t say for certain.”

“You were hot.”

“Were?”

“Were and are,” you coo, reclining backwards over the desk into his space, one elbow pitched on his paperwork to hold your weight whilst you flap the photograph in front of his face, “Can I keep this?”

“For what reason?”

“Dirty ones.”

“Hardly necessary,” Silco says, the very corner of his mouth creasing upwards as he catches your wrist to halt your photo-flapping, “You have access to the real thing.”

“True, true, and you can be sure I’ll continue taking advantage of that.” You grin, shoving your captured, photo-wielding arm a little closer to him in emphasis, “But right now I’m talking about some alone time with this guy.”

Silco scoffs under his breath and releases your wrist. You twist onto your front, weight propped on both elbows as you admire the photograph in your grip. You trace a finger down the slender throat of the man in the photo, over the generous wedge of chest exposed by his open crimson collar.

“D’you think he’d notice me? If I came into that bar?”

“Oh I’m certain he would.”

“Yeah?” You lift your gaze from the man in the photo to the one before you – as equally breathtaking. More so. You catch your lower lip between your teeth. “What line would he use?”

Silco hums, low and thoughtful, leaning forward in his chair, closing in on your space. He picks up his abandoned pen, briefly twirling the implement until it’s poised between his elegant fingers like a cigarette. Nib safely facing his own palm.

“After downing the dregs of his drink for courage... he would have approached you.”

With sensual tenderness, he brushes the barrel of his pen along your cheek, warmed metal against warmer skin. Catching at the curve of your jawline, and tracing over your pulse in a way that makes it fumble a beat.

“Cast his gaze over each of your pretty, pretty features. One by one,” he murmurs, slowly drawing the end of the pen down your jugular, down the slope of your collar bone, to leisurely trail through the cut of your cleavage. The corner of your mouth hooks up. The warmth low in your belly coils a little tighter.

“He would have leaned in close,” Silco whispers, demonstrating just so, “Close enough that you’d almost taste the whiskey on his breath.”

Blunt metal drags a purposeful line up your throat, and your lips part softly as he tilts your face toward his with the barrel of his pen flat and firm beneath your chin.

“And asked you – very nicely – to stop leaning on his paperwork.”

You press your tongue against the inside of your cheek while Silco’s dual eyes sizzle with smug mirth. It’d be unthinkable, really – to forfeit either one for the sake of a matching pair.

You straighten and push off his desk, hips swaying as you saunter over to the bedroom with the photograph in hand.

“Well,” you say, pausing in the threshold and turning to him with a smirk, “If you need us, you know where we’ll be.”

[gece-misin-nesin]

I'm imagining an au where there are ACTUAL trials in evils theatre.

But what is weird is that the dead... seem to come back to life for trials to defend themselves, defend others or even sue people?

At first the theatre crew and the dead are like "yo wtf" but they get used to it. Most of the dead are in trials once or twice but there are several of them who are there A LOT.

Also by triaI mean someone says:

(Insert Name) is guilty of this and this

And then everyone involved participates in the discussion like: were they actually guilty, their reasons, outside reasons and what the victim says etc.

So my ideas for this:

Michaela is a regular member, forming a body out of roots and shit to either participate or observe trials bc that's how she gets amusement out of life as a tree

Gammon managed to get Lilith a guily verdict over the green hunting, she didn't speak to him for a month(no one knows if it was bc she regretted it or bc she was angry at him or both)

The punishment for being found guilty is cleaning and doing the chores of the theatre for a week

Gammon constantly tries to get the theatre members convicted bc of this

Nemesis regains her memories bc i want her to once every two months and causes the BIGGEST trials bc she has dirt on everyone

She once got Irina(who isn't always the judge) to be convicted for the Lioness Burning Incident

Gumillia is sick of this bs because she gets summoned to trials all the damn time bc of her partnership w Seth

When they need to call a dead person as witness they just shout that person's name and they appear

Everyone thinks it Gumillia raising the dead but its actually Luna Hazuki bc this is the most fun she has had in a millenium

She just watches everything from her secret base

If a dead person is found guilty, the entire court has to individually insult said person

Ron Grapple once accused Hansel and Gretel of his murder and won the case bc he was ABC's son and Irina liked him

The graveyard crew were shocked

Nyoze the loop octopus version once cleared up a case about the 7th project MA and never came again

Gammon couldn't process it

Michelle Marlon got MA convicted for not paying child support on two different occasions

Rahab Barisol once emerged out of MA and shit talked Lich

Clarith was accused of not being on the side of justice bc she didn't kill Riliane, coincidentially, Michaela went apeshit in that trial

Clarith also testified that riliane repented which had some ppl surprised

Ma tried to convict gretel for the murder of Mariam, they called her spirit and she literally said "idc"

Behemo makes Ace Attorney references whenever he's there

"That autopsy report is...OUTDATED!"

Nemesis was convicted for the destruction of Levianta(the Magic Kingdom)

Germaine sues Irina for all sorts of shit

No one managed to call on Allen Avadonia

Luna and Sickle kinda argued on this but Luna respected Sickle's decision(basically torturing a 14 year old :/)

They summomed Gallerian multiple times and his response was always "lmao who cares? im evil and i embrace it"

Irina can never trash talk him when he loses trials

Adam managed to get Gammon convicted for identity fraud bc of his past life...somehow

It was total bull and everyone knew that he had bribed Irina

Adam also got Seth convicted for child abuse

Dozens of women sued Venomania and he never won

Not even once

He did win a case against his asshole father though

Muzuri Conchita sued Irina for the curse on his household and he won the case

Elluka Chirclatia sued Nemesis, Mayrana Blossom and Ma for understandable reasons

Pride arc people sued the shit out of Prim, she didn't manage to win ANYTHING

Interestingly, the most ferocious person during her stuff was Banica bc of what she had done to Ney

Lemy sued Gumillia for his murder but the court was so split that they decided to convict neither side and never brought up the case again

It just gave everyone migraines

Adam and Eve tried to sue H&G for their murders but then H&G sued them for neglect, so they called it even

Eve was nearly convicted for the Toragay incident but no one could prove it was her (Nemesis wasn't there and Irina was interested in her defense)

Loki Freezis and Gallerian Marlon had an epic stand off

Kayo Sudou apologised for murdering Mei, Rin and Miku Miroku so they gave her a less harsh sentence which involved only the 3 victims insulting her

No one cared about Kai's death

The Pere Noel members of the 1st iteration(bc most members of the second are all alive until 999) had a LOT of cases

Kaspar tried to make a case against Eve but ignoring that he couldn't prove it was her, no one in the court sympathized with him

Eve and Adam had a shouting match with Seth cheering on from the sidelines until they realized he was their common enemy and ripped him to shreds(figuratively)

Kiril Clockworker nearly got convicted for Pale Noel's stuff, but they couldn't prove anything y'know? He was blamed a little for the catastrophe tho

Catherine Derais once came and she and Rahab were brutal

Brutal for Rahab mostly

All the sinners and the demons sued each other several times

They all got different verdicts each time lol

Sickle is against Luna interfering but doesn't say anything

Eater actually got all heated up in a case against Held once

Arth defended Lich in said case

Lich was so moved

Ney defended herself by saying that Michaela looked like Eve in Michaela's murder trial

No one took it seriously except Hansel and Banica

Nemesis nearly got in trouble for Nyoze's murder but Nyoze(the octo ver) said that her innocence was non-negotiatable

Mira Marlon sued Gallerian for cheating on her and won the case

Nemesis sued Held for not doing shit as a god

Surprisingly Irina, who benefitted the most from his inaction, agreed and he was found guilty

Gumillia was attacked several times for her aiding Elluka Clockworker with crimes and once she claimed that Elluka Clockworker never existed bc she was actually levia behemo, she wasn't elluka chirclatia and ergo elluka clockworker never existed and that Gumillia couldn't have POSSIBLY helped her do crime

The court just took a minute to process this in silence

"I hold nothing BUT contempt for this court." -Germaine, absolutely sick of this bullshit

But that quote could be anyone tbh

This is really long but the ideas just kept coming to me. I find it funny when characters are confronted with their actions, even if it is comedy like this

Honestly Evils Theatre SHOULD have had more trials

it would have been so fun

[littledreamybeth]

Bad Dream

Based on this ask: Hey, love your writing. Absolutely adore it. And I was wondering if you could do imagines about harry having a worst nightmare about y/n leaving him and he gets superrrr scared later when he suddenly wake up he realises it was just a dream but still it felt so real to him he ends up crying which wakes y/n up and she comforts him and they slowly drift back to sleep. Super flufff. Thank you again.  

A/N: I changed a few things here and there and I hope that’s okay! Please don’t send asks at the moment :) Tumblr doesn’t unfortunately show this in the tags please everyone reblog

*******************************************************************************************

“You disgust me, Harry Styles.” she seethed. A dark shadow casted over her normally gentle features, a countenance so intimidating and terrifying, it froze his insides and made him motionless. The way her eyes that used to hold love for him  pierced through his skull, throwing daggers, fire flames at his direction should  usually end him in a pile of pathetic dust, pulverizing him entirely, but he was surprised that he was still whole. His limbs were still attached to his body.

“What are you talking about?” he stammered, bile rising up his throat that he desperately tried keeping in his stomach. The last thing he needed was throwing up in front of her and making himself an utter idiot. “What did I do?”

She laughed while crossing her arms in front of her, a sinister sound echoing in the room Harry had never heard before- he barely knew she had it in her to be this mean. He couldn’t explain where this sudden change of her demeanor and bullying he underwent came from. “What you did? You’re asking me what you did? Haha, I cannot believe it! Open your god-damn eyes, Harry! As if you didn’t know! You’re giving me bunch, if not thousands of reasons to hate you. How come that every time I’m around you I feel nothing but severe emotional and physical pain?”

This couldn’t be. He gave everything and anything to make her happy, he put so much into their relationship, showed her that he loved her, prioritized her, read every single wish from her lips, so what on earth was she talking about for fucks sake?

“I realized there is only so much I can bear. And it has crossed my limits. You no longer are good for me. Never have been. Actually, I hate you. So much!”

Harry choked, as if he was kicked in his guts. She was lying, bluffing. It had to be.

“Y-you don’t mean it.”

“Oh, you bet I do. I should’ve stayed with Andrew, it was a mistake leaving him for a loser like you. I have no idea why I was with you in the first place.” She clicked with her tongue regretfully, as if she lamented the fact she had wasted her time on him whereas she could’ve been with men better than him. As on cue, someone rang the bell, and Harry’s eyes nearly bulged out when he saw who the uninvited guest was. The devil himself- Andrew aka Y/N’s ex.

The young woman ran into her former boyfriend’s his arms, kissing his lips relieved- seeing this transpiring right before him ruined Harry. He just wanted her to take a knife and plunge it into his chest at this point. “I’m glad you here, get me out of this place, I cannot longer bare staying in the same room with this man.” She pointed at him, looking at him as though he was some criminal.

Everything happening afterwards was fast. Y/N asked Andrew to take out her suitcase, which had been fully packed and next to her feet from the very start, out of the apartment. Only with much effort Harry was able to move- he threw himself at her, holding onto her wrist while she dragged him with her.

“Y/N, please, stay with me. Don’t go, I’m begging you, darling! Let’s talk it out!”

She turned on her heels out of a sudden, which caused him to crash against her. And she was not amused by this.

“Get lost, you dipshit, and don’t you ever touch me again! You hear me? Never!” That was like a harsh slap across his face. His hand fell from her wrist, resting against his side. With one last condescending glance, Y/N exited the room, following after her new lover, leaving Harry empty inside. Never had he thought it would end like this.

The door closed with such a powerful bang, it shook the entire apartment. Harry fell down onto the ground. Lost. Defeated. Let down. Nothing made sense at all. Where did things go wrong?

He wrapped his arms around himself, weighing back and forth. The love of his life was gone, and there had been nothing he could do. He screamed, out of despair and sadness. “Y/N!!!!!!!!”

Harry snapped from his dream back to reality with a loud gasp escaping his lips, tossing the bedsheets that used to cover him away to the side and propping himself up on his elbows. It took a few seconds for him to register that he was in his bedroom, on his king-sized bed. His entire body vibrated from the aftershocks of his horrible nightly experience in the dream world, fear and panic taking the upper hand of him. His chest heaved up and down, sweat dripping from every inch of his bronzed skin, even from his scalp down to his neck. He was basically wet everywhere. Breathing became a challenge as his lungs burned in his chest, his heartrate accelerated the more the scenario his subconscious had created appeared again before his eyes. He shook his head repeatedly, trying to erase and get rid of the images haunting and taunting him. She’d been so cold. Full of hatred. Unrecognizable. The person he’d encountered did not resemble his Y/N at all. He’d been scared many times in his life- but not this much. The brunette man couldn’t explain the reason why his brain would create a realistic dream like this as he had never wasted a single thought on losing his girlfriend- it never crossed his mind. Of course, you should never say never as the future was not set in stone, but still, he knew from the bottom of his heart that they were endgame- yes, he felt it deep down, and she was the person he wanted to settle down with someday. He was sure Y/N felt the just the same.

Dread crawled up his throat, wet tears blurring his vision. He tried stifling his sobs with his hand, but once his eyes met the sleeping, innocent beauty next to him, tugged under the sheets and resting easily- he had to convince himself that after the things he’d been through she was still there-, he completely lost it. Relief washed over him like waves, he had the urge to scream, but he didn’t want to wake her up. That’s why he instantly threw himself out of the bed and fled towards the en-suite master bathroom in the dark.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay…” he mumbled there over and over, splashing his face with cold, fresh water from the mixer tap to loosen up a bit. Every muscle was so tense and uptight. “Everything’s just fine. She’s still there, she’s not gone, it was just a dream, you’re safe… oh god…”

Harry grabbed each side of the washbasin so tightly in desperate need for support and stability that his knuckles turned nearly white. His buckling knees didn’t do a great job in steadying him either. In his head, there was a spiraling mess of emotions that made him dizzy. Although his body should’ve recharged from the sleep he had, the only thing he felt in his bones was fatigue. He looked at his himself in the mirror- pale face, bloodshot, hollow eyes, wrinkles on his forehead full on display, the corner of his lips drawn downwards. Incredible how a single dream made you look like you had aged terribly overnight. No wonder- he was still shaken to the core.    

Deciding on taking a shower to wash off the sweat on his body before he went back to sleep, he pulled down his boxers, and then gathering all his energy, he dragged himself into the shower cabin. He hoped his sorrow and distress would simply flow away with the water, so he cried and cried and cried. Even though he paid attention to not increase his volume, it didn’t totally go unnoticed by his partner, who had woken up as Harry had rushed into the bathroom.

After the young man was done, the pain still present in his chest, he wrapped a bath towel around his lower half, ruffled his hair dry, then finally returning to his bedroom. And what was the first thing he laid his eyes on? His girlfriend- his wonderful, beautiful girl who was now fully awake, sitting patiently against the headboard, looking at him with concern etched on her soft features upon discovering him. The lamp on the nightstand adjacent her being the only source of light illuminated her entirely, just perfectly, encircling her almost like a halo in a way that made you believe she was the one beacon of light saving you from your doom and misery. A stark contrast to the version of the woman he saw in his dream. With a tilt of her head to the side, she said, “I heard you crying under the shower. What’s wrong?”

Harry smiled weakly at her, heading towards the nightstand on his side of the bed, taking out a pair of new boxers and draping them over his legs. “Nothing, love,” he replied, clearly evading her question.  “Let’s go back to sleep.”

But Y/N insisted, sensing something was evidently affecting and bugging him. “Your body language tells me something different, Harry. Come here, my love,” she opened her arms widely, inviting him in. “You know you can talk to me. I want to know what happened.”

Although this gesture was nothing but kind, sweet and caring, with no ill intentions behind it, it still brought back tears in his eyes, because all he could think about was this cursed dream making him suffer, and he was a crying mess again.

Y/N was irritated about the unexpected outburst of her boyfriend, yet it physically hurt seeing him cry. She immediately scooted over to the edge of the bed where he was sat, positioned herself on his lap and slung one arm around his neck whereas the other hand buried itself in his curly locks. “Harry, oh my god! I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to make you cry, baby.”

She just felt him shake his head left and right, implying a no. “I-it’s n-not y-our f-fault.”

Even though he practically suffocated on his sobs, it was as if he was able to breathe again now that he had Y/N pressed against him. He tightened his grip firmly around her, pushing her towards his front so that not a single space was left empty between them. Feeling her smooth skin against his, smelling the alluring and familiar fragrance of her body lotion, her comforting words whispered into his ear, her hand raking and massaging through his hair- nothing could fill him with more life than this. His love for her was eternal, endless, infinite, and he was so grateful she was here with him right now, that he was not alone dealing with the repercussions of his dream- otherwise he would have lost himself.

Y/N let him cry until his tears ceased and he regained his composure. Harry was still trembling, his voice wavering when he squeezed a “I’m sorry” from his lips, but other than that, he could perfectly communicate with his partner.

“Do you want to share what happened? And please don’t tell me there is nothing- you can’t just cry and make me worry and then say “nothing” when there is clearly something that’s bothering you.”

The young woman gazed at her boyfriend expectantly yet gave him all the time he needed to open up. She intertwined their fingers, smiling at him in encouragement.

“’s stupid. You’re just going to laugh at me.”

“No, absolutely not. It’s not stupid at all if it has made you upset. And you should know me better than that, Harry. I would never laugh at something that has made you cry. I promise.”

Harry sniffled, swallowing hard. “I had a dream. About you. I don’t know what I did wrong, but you just said you hated me, and implied you didn’t want to be with me anymore. The way you looked down on me was terrifying- as if I was a pathetic pile of shit that didn’t deserve your time anymore.”

He paused, inhaling deeply and then breathing out. “Apparently, I crossed your line with the things I did. And those were enough for you to abandon me. You just broke up with me and never looked back when I begged you to stay. And as a cherry on top, you went straight back into the arms of your ex-boyfriend. It was so realistic, Y/N. For a second, I thought it was real. That I lost you forever. I never had dreams like this. Either I don’t dream at all, or they’re just weird scenarios, fun and games. Anyway, the last thing I can remember is tumbling on the ground, dramatically screaming your name. That was so bizarre in itself. You know these exaggerated and overdone screams in movies? It was like that. Then I woke up.”

Now that he was done telling his story, he bashfully chuckled. “Sounds crazy, right?”

“The only crazy thing about it is me taking back my ex.” Y/N commented, rolling her eyes. “As if I would stoop so low and do that. Hello? He cheated on me.”

She gently placed his hands on his flushed cheeks, running her thumbs soothingly over them, her eyes beaming at him.

“But no, Harry. Nothing you’ve told me is either stupid or crazy. It just shows me how much I mean to you, and judging by your reaction, I have all the rights thinking so. Besides, dreams are phenomena with no actual meanings whatsoever. They’re nonsense. Just because I dumped you in your dream, doesn’t mean it’ll really happen, so don’t worry, okay?”

He nodded. His shy expression slightly changed, he gazed up at her imploringly.

“Don’t leave me, Y/N. Ever. You can’t. I wouldn’t know what to do without you. You’re my compass navigating me through life.”

“Aww, honey! Leaving? And letting go of the most caring, loving and talented man that carries me on his hands? Nope- I don’t think so! You’re stuck with my annoying ass for a veeery long time. I can assure you that!”

The laughter following her statement filled his heart with so much joy.

“Your ass is not annoying,” Harry said. “Your ass is cute.” He gave her behind a tender slap, which made them both giggle. Then he earnestly gazed into her orbs, the white of his eyes still red from crying but it didn’t let him appear less attractive, no- he looked divine as usual, sincerely blurting out, “I love you, Y/N. I love you to the moon and back. Sounds cheesy, but it’s the truth.”

“I know you do, even if you don’t tell me, I feel it in the minuscule things you do for me. And as we’re doing cheesy things, let me show you that I am…” She plastered her lips against his forehead, giving him a kiss. “Incredibly…” then kissed his both of his cheeks, “crazily…”, the slope of his nose “in love..”, his chin “with…”, and finally her lips landed on his luscious ones, sealing them into a passionate confession of love, “you…”.

Let’s say the next dream Harry had after that incident was the one of his beloved Y/N telling some douchebag she used to date to fuck off because she already had the man she needed, and he couldn’t be prouder of her.

[whumptober]

Whumptober 2020 - Updated

Welcome to Whumptober 2020! We’re doing things a little differently this year so please make sure to read the Event Info carefully. We are also excited to announce the addition of an AO3 Collection, which can be found here.

We hope you’re as excited as us to watch the Whump Community come together once again for a month of bone-crunching creativity and collaboration!

(All 31 Themes + Prompts, Event Information, and FAQs are posted below the cut!)

No 1. LET'S HANG OUT SOMETIME Waking Up Restrained | Shackled | Hanging

No 2. IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY  "Pick Who Dies" | Collars | Kidnapped

No 3. MY WAY OR THE HIGHWAY Manhandled | Forced to their Knees | Held at Gunpoint

No 4. RUNNING OUT OF TIME Caged | Buried Alive | Collapsed Building

No 5. WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING? On the Run | Failed Escape | Rescue

No 6. PLEASE.... "Get it Out" | No More | "Stop, please"

No 7. I'VE GOT YOU Support | Carrying | Enemy to Caretaker

No 8. WHERE DID EVERYBODY GO? "Don't Say Goodbye" | Abandoned | Isolation

No 9. FOR THE GREATER GOOD "Take Me Instead" | "Run!” | Ritual Sacrifice

No 10. THEY LOOK SO PRETTY WHEN THEY BLEED Blood Loss | Internal Bleeding | Trail of Blood

No 11. PSYCH 101 Defiance | Struggling | Crying

No 12. I THINK I'VE BROKEN SOMETHING Broken Down | Broken Bones | Broken Trust

No 13. BREATHE IN BREATHE OUT Delayed Drowning | Chemical Pneumonia | Oxygen Mask

No 14. IS SOMETHING BURNING? Branding | Heat Exhaustion | Fire

No 15. INTO THE UNKNOWN Possession | Magical Healing | Science Gone Wrong

No 16. A TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE, NO GOOD, VERY BAD DAY Forced to Beg | Hallucinations | Shoot the Hostage

No 17. I DID NOT SEE THAT COMING Blackmail | Dirty Secret | Wrongfully Accused

No 18. PANIC! AT THE DISCO Panic Attacks | Phobias | Paranoia

No 19. BROKEN HEARTS Grief | Mourning Loved One | Survivor's Guilt

No 20. TOTO, I HAVE A FEELING WE'RE NOT IN KANSAS ANYMORE Lost | Field Medicine | Medieval

No 21. I DON'T FEEL SO WELL Chronic Pain | Hypothermia | Infection

No 22. DO THESE TACOS TASTE FUNNY TO YOU? Poisoned | Drugged | Withdrawal

No 23. WHAT’S A WHUMPEE GOTTA DO TO GET SOME SLEEP AROUND HERE? Exhaustion | Narcolepsy | Sleep Deprivation

No 24. YOU’RE NOT MAKING ANY SENSE Forced Mutism | Blindfolded | Sensory Deprivation

No 25. I THINK I’LL JUST COLLAPSE RIGHT HERE, THANKS Disorientation | Blurred Vision | Ringing Ears

No 26. IF YOU THOUGHT THE HEAD TRAUMA WAS BAD... Migraine | Concussion | Blindness

No 27. OK, WHO HAD NATURAL DISASTERS ON THEIR 2020 BINGO CARD? Earthquake | Extreme Weather | Power Outage

No 28. SUCH WOW. MANY NORMAL. VERY OOPS. Accidents | Hunting Season | Mugged

No 29. I THINK I NEED A DOCTOR Intubation | Emergency Room | Reluctant Bedrest

No 30. NOW WHERE DID THAT COME FROM? Wound Reveal | Ignoring an Injury | Internal Organ Injury

No 31. TODAY’S SPECIAL: TORTURE Experiment | Whipped | Left for Dead

Alternate Prompt List

Alt 1. Punctured

Alt 2. Falling

Alt 3. Comfort

Alt 4. Stitches

Alt 5. Stoic Whumpees

Alt 6. Altered States

Alt 7. Found Family

Alt 8. Adverse Reactions

Alt 9. Memory Loss

Alt 10. Nightmares

Alt 11. Presumed Dead

Alt. 12. Water

Alt. 13 Accidents

Alt. 14 Shot

Alt. 15 Carry/Support

Event Info

WHUMPTOBER is a month-long, prompt-based creation challenge (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are 31 Official themes this year - one for each day of the month - which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way you’d like. They are meant to serve as inspiration without being taken literally (e.g. you don't have to include the exact wording into your work). Additionally, there are 3 prompts for each theme.  These are optional suggestions and can be used in conjunction with the theme, or as options/alternatives.  We want to give everyone as much creative freedom as possible, as well as increase event accessibility for folks with triggers and squicks.

Creators can PRODUCE work in any media they choose, including but not limited to: writing, visual artwork, and photo/video/audio edits. Creators can PARTICIPATE as much or as little as they want (i.e. you don’t have to do ALL the prompts if you don’t want to) and prompts can be used in any order. They are also free to use even after the event ends.

When uploading Whumptober content to your blog, be sure to tag the with:

#whumptober2020 …..(the event tag)

#no.1, #no.2, #no.3, …..(theme number)

#bruised, #stabbed,  …..(the theme or specific prompt you chose)

#fandom or #OC

#medium …..(gifs, fic, podcast, art, etc.)

#teeth, #etc …..(trigger warnings & any additional tags. Keep in mind not to add “tw” in front but only use the word/trigger itself, because tumblr sucks)

#nsfw, #nsfwhump …..(only for nsfw content)

PLEASE BE DILIGENT WITH YOUR TAGGING. Only properly tagged posts are considered for archiving on the official @whumptober2020​ blog. They must be tagged in the order above.

Unfortunately, due to the sheer number of participants in recent years, we cannot guarantee your work will be archived. A random selection of properly tagged posts from all genres will be reblogged each day.

Whumpers who produce content for 31 total theme days are considered event completionists and will be tagged in a masterpost at the end of the month.

Questions not addressed below can be directed to this blog as well.

Thanks for reading, and happy whumping!

Frequently Asked Questions

Q. What kind of content can I make? Can it be NSFW?

This is a MIXED MEDIA event! You can write fic, post meta, doodle or paint, create a gif set or photo edit, link a song, or get crafty with video - anything goes. As for NSFW, make what you like, we just hope that you’ll tag your work accordingly so that others participating in the event can stay safe :)

Q. Do I have to do all 31 Days? Can I post early/late?

Participate as much or little as you like, and post whenever! Just be sure to tag your posts properly (ex. #no.11, #psych101). Combining prompts into one piece of work is okay, and posting late is as well so as long as it’s in October.

Q. What if I don’t understand a theme?

Send us an ask! We’re happy to help clarify. That said, the themes are entirely up for interpretation :)

Q. Can I combine Whumptober with other creation challenges?

Absolutely! That’s like shooting two whumpees with one bullet :)

Q. Can I upload/repost my whumptober content to other social media platforms?

Of course! We’ve created an AO3 Collection to archive any fics posted there. The archive can be accessed here. The blog is the official archive, so please respect the boundaries of any closeted whumpers in your social circle :)

Q. Can I use prompts to write a new chapter for an existing fic?

Yes

Q. An existing fic I am currently writing contains many of the Whumptober prompts, can I use it?

If you are actively writing this fic at the moment with the whumptober prompts in mind, yes. If it just conveniently checks the boxes, then please don’t. You can, however, add new chapters answering one or more of the prompts.

Q. What kind of characters can I write for?

Fandom characters, OC characters, human, furry, alien, cyborg, whoever you like.

Q. Can I use a prompt multiple times?

Yes,  but it only counts once

Q. If I’m not comfortable with one day's prompts can I use a prompt of a different day as a substitute and still be a completionist?

Yes, but please do not use a specific prompt twice. We have also created an alternate prompts list that you can draw from [here].

Q. Where can I post my work?

Post where and how you want. You don’t even have to (cross)post it to Tumblr. Just keep in mind if it’s not on Tumblr we will not be able to add it to the blog archive.

Q. Can I start posting early?

You can, but this is an October event and wouldn’t it be more fun with everyone doing it at the same time? That being said, you can post early, but we won’t be reblogging any work predating October 1st.

Q. Do I have to finish a fic I started/can I post WIP’s.?

Yes you can post WIPs. And you’re not obligated to finish it in October for it to count towards being a completionist.  

Q. Is co-writing allowed?

Yes, absolutely, and it would count towards being a completionist for both/all of you :)

Q. Do I have to create 31 standalone pieces to be considered a completionist or can I write one continuous story?

One continuous story is fine.  The challenge is to write something for 31 prompts. If that’s spread over 31 fics or just one, you are still considered a completionist. (The same goes for every other media you choose.)

Q. Is there a min/max limit on word count?

There is no limit

Q. Can I combine prompts? Is there a limit on how many?

No limit and combine as many as you’d like.

Q. Is a hc/angst focus ok?

Of course!

Q. What’s considered nsfw?

See this post

Q. What's whump?

See this post

Q. My interpretation of the prompt isn't whumpy at all, does that count?

No, sorry, but keep in mind that whump [see definition] is something very nuanced and different for everyone and emotional whump/angst is just as much part of it, as is physical whump and torture. So before you dismiss your idea, think about this.

Q. Can I start working on the prompts before October?

Absolutely! That’s why we posted the prompts a month in advance. We recognise how difficult it can be creating for 31 days in “real time”.

Q. How do I tag triggers?

tw at the end of the word, ex. emeto tw

Q. Do I have to use your tags?

Yes, if you want your work archived on the blog. If not, feel free to use whatever tags you want.  

Q. Does combining prompts count towards completion?

Yes

Q. Can we @ you?

Yes but we mostly rely on the whumptober2020 tag

Q. Is there anything we are absolutely not allowed to write?

There are no rules, just be sure to properly tag your trigger warnings. And keep in mind Tumblr’s policies if you are posting it here (or the policies of whatever site you use).

Q. Where can I go for brainstorming help?

Here on Discord

Q. My characters are minors, is that ok?

Yes, but as with everything else, tags are your best friend.

Q. Can I cross post on other blogs?

Yes, multiple platforms and blogs are perfectly acceptable. You can also post different works to different accounts under different names, without posting them everywhere at once.

Note: This is a creation challenge, please don’t repost your old work under our tags (unless it’s been changed or edited for the event).

[theamberwizard]

i’ve been thinking about black widow and the red room recently, as one does, and i’ve got a lot of thoughts about the effects of the red room on widows who’ve escaped. couple things, just before i begin: i would recommend having watched black widow before this because there are implied (?) spoilers, i use way too fancy language while i write and i don’t have an editor cause this is mainly to catch her off guard, so, uh, whoops sorry

trigger warnings: TW: child abuse TW: restricted eating/starving yourself TW: dehumanization TW: death of a child

so yeah, enjoy my list of 10 personal headcanons about how the red room fucks you up on all the levels.

1) black widows cannot sleep in. like, they wake up at 5:00 am every day. it’s not a physical thing, at least not as far as they know, because they can negate that by just going to bed two hours or less before 5:00 am just from their lack of sleep. if, however, they go to sleep at a fairly normal hour they will, like clockwork, wake up at 5:00. this stems from them doing it every single day of their life since they got indoctrinated in the red room. if they didn’t wake up at 5:00 am ready for more training or missions, for any reason, they would be tortured. sometimes physically, sometimes mentally. eventually, all the widows would get that message. they still can’t shake it. because of that, natasha will often refuse to go to sleep at a normal hour, trying to force her body into submission, trying to rid herself of the painful memories that accompanied sleep and waking up afterwards. only clint knows why, because each day in that vent, natasha would snap up at 4:00 am. she had to explain to him that she just wasn’t accustomed to budapest time, and that actually, it was 5:00 am in russia.

2) for months after escaping the red room, widows practically cannot eat. in the red room, they were fed mushy messes of meals, filled with only the necessary nutrients that they absolutely had to have to survive. most widows can only get down one meal, maybe even a snack if they push it, until they throw it all up. they have to slowly eat slightly more each day for weeks until they can get down a normal intake of food. even then, it’s hard to push that, and every widow relapses into throwing up in those early stages. however, this isn’t normally a problem for most widows until a couple weeks into their life with freedom. that’s about the time that they make an acquaintance, who will eventually pluck up the courage to ask them why every time said friend will eat near the widow, the widow will lean over and whisper: “careful, that’s your whole ration today and i don’t want to do extra training.”

3) each “class” of widows had an extra mentor teacher in their early red room years. this was an older widow, someone who’d been falling behind in her recent missions, and with a look that the red room deemed “motherly”. their sole purpose was to be the person each widow got attached too, the parental figure. they were nice, they were helpful, they taught many different basic techniques. then, one day, the red room would have another older widow, (one already introduced to the children as the metaphorical “bad cop” of this scenario) come in and inform the mentor that she had failed her latest mission and proceed to, in front of thirty eleven year-olds, shoot the mentor. the mentor widow would not die that day- the red room refused to waste such a weapon- but the class of up incoming widows would be informed that she had. the official purpose of this exercise was to demonstrate to both the trainees and the trainer the consequences of failing a mission. the unofficial purpose? that would be the last psychological effects the mentor’s “death” would have upon the class, making them learn what happened to attachments in the red room. the day natasha’s class experienced this was the day she cut off all contact with her sister. the day yelena experiences this is the day she first another widow- because yelena killed that mentor with her own bare hands before the informant ever finished the announcement.

4) towards the start of the red room’s history, there were several attacks on the red room. the first ever attack was from a local police station who had been getting complaints of loud wailing, and, upon further investigation, realized what they were dealing with. they brought several other police and militia groups from nearby towns. the immediate action that was taken was to throw the littlest girls they had at the attackers. it stopped the police in their tracks, obviously, because you really don’t expect to come across thirty little girls while searching through a building of highly trained assassins. the red room then sent their fully trained widows and killed everyone. including the girls. the red room then found that footage from their cameras (because of fucking course they have cameras) and then showed it to the next batch of widows, just to show them how disposable they were.

5) yelena and natasha almost caused a whole fucking mutiny within the red room just because of their names. in the red room, you see, widows do not get names. they instead are bestowed with numbers, and even those are a twisted class ranking. they all wore little name tags with the numbers on them until came natasha and yelena came in. yelena, having just seen her mother get shot, complied almost immediately and was addressed as number 42. on the other side of that coin you have natasha, who had already been in the red room and remembered every gruesome detail, and went “fuck you my name is natalia.” upon hearing of this (word gets around fast in the red room. every girl must know they are being listened to at all times, and no secrets can be kept from the red room,) yelena too announced her name to the class.

6) this was met with blanching from every child in that class, because how on earth can you be called by a word? no, they thought, we are numbers, we are weapons, we are not people and we cannot have our own words, for we are not worthy. but secretly, internally, they wished for a name. slowly, they began piecing syllables together until they formed a coherent name, and for the first time in the red room’s long history, they didn’t have weapons. not anymore. they have two full classes of human little girls. the red room officials heard of this, obviously, and took to the only method they had now. violence. the classes were rid of the named girls, yet natasha and yelena were kept alive. they were kept alive to be ostracized, to be the girl the others pointed at and said “she’s the reason all my friends died.” they were kept alive so they could watch the carnage they had unwittingly caused just by saying their own names. and the worst part? well, the worst part was when the teachers accounted for those kills, and made them top of the class. yelena will never forget the day the teachers stood her and her sister up in front of all the widows-in-traning and told them what a good job they had done, how those tactics were sure to help them graduate. i mean, you’re practically a shoo-in if they rest of your class was killed by your school.

7) the red room could never fully stop the names, and so they decided to make a system, and the names would be the highest reward. they told the young, impressionable girls that while maybe outsiders such as natasha and yelena got names at birth, you had to earn them here. if you are to become a spy, you will take on the name of you very first official alias. if, instead, you become an assassin, you will take on the name of your very first official kill. of course, in reality, the widows couldn’t actually address each other with their new earned names, and instead used “team leader” or other such titles. but it became a small comfort for them, thinking of themselves in third person, with their very own names. in some small part they weren’t fully weapons anymore, no, they were people again. natasha took on the name natalia, because in her mind that life in ohio had been her first mission, even if she hadn’t known it. yelena took on yelena as well, but in her mind that little girl in ohio who was sitting in the backseat, caring only about which song they played, that girl had to have been yelena’s first true kill.

8) the names system worked well in the red room, but when you escaped it caused some serious problems. most would have to announce themselves to the russian government, saying they had been flying under the radar their whole life and never became registered. then, they’d give a non-russian name, and their whole ruse would fall apart. unfortunately, this was the least of their problems, because many a widow would someday meet a relative of their very first kill, and when they introduced themselves as the person they had killed all those years ago, the families and friends would often figure them out.

9) one of the biggest parts of the red room’s brainwashing was their little catchphrases they used. ironically, a lot of them were eerily close to boy scout mottos- “be prepared,” an iconic scout motto, versus “there is no safety, only preparedness,” the most frequently used phrase within the red room. when widows then escaped, the most small phrase could set them off. some unknowing widows even adopted little boys in their new lives, who often became boy scouts. the ensuing misery is something you can imagine yourself.

10) after clint helped natasha to escape, she immediately died her hair blond.  clint asked why, of course, and she didn’t tell him. (what, you thought i’d have another cute clintasha moment? never.) this was partly because she hadn’t admitted it to herself, though, because natasha couldn’t remember her sister without remembering all the suffering that came with her.

11) when the widows were smaller, more susceptible to the conditioning, the red room would stage infiltrations. older widows, ones who were closer to retirement, would come in in different uniforms, sometimes the uniforms of UN officers or local police, sometimes different organizations, all different types. the most recent uniforms made yelena sick looking at them, because each time the older widows would pretend to be the avengers there would also be one pretending to be her sister. each time she saw the fake natasha she wanted to break that widow’s neck because that’s not how my sister tilts her head, you’re doing it all wrong. you should be doing it like this, you shouldn’t be doing it at all, i should be doing this, i know my sister. each time those exact thoughts went into her head, and each time all she really wanted was for her sister to be there, for natasha to do her little head tilt upon seeing yelena and take her hand and say “you’re safe now, i promise,” and for natasha to be telling the truth. the only problem was that deep down inside herself yelena knew that this could never actually happen while yelena was still in the red room, because while yelena was still in the red room she knew that she would look at natasha telling her she was safe and tell her in return that there was no safety, only preparedness, and then murder her sister in cold blood.

[queenshelby]

The Last Semester – Part Two

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 1,331

Warning: Flirting, Fluff

***

After having traded spots with Emma, over the next two weeks, you worked on your new drama project with the other group. But this didn’t mean that you didn’t see Cillian. To the contrary. You saw him more often than you were comfortable with and your attraction towards him intensified every time you interacted with him.

Every morning, Cillian would get his coffee at the local coffee shop where you worked as many as four days per week. In addition, just like you, he would spend a lot of time at the nearby second-hand bookshop looking for random and interesting novels.

The small bookstore had a reading area upstairs which no one really knew about and, on a rainy Tuesday evening, you sat there for three hours, researching for one of your other literature units.

That day, Cillian had the same idea as you, evidentially bored on his own since temporarily moving to London for the drama project.

‘Interesting choice’ Cillian said as he saw you sitting in the reading area with a stack of books by Charles Dickens.

‘Oh yes, Dickens. He is making some good points which I can use for my literature project’ you explained.

‘And some random ones too’ Cillian chuckled, causing you to raise your eyebrows as if you were asking a question.

‘For example, he states that there is no greater gift than the love of a cat. I would question this statement’ Cillian laughed.

‘I am fairly sure it was a contextual question’ you chuckled.

‘Nah…I think he just likes cats’ Cillian then went on to say before sitting down next to you and asking you whether you wanted some help with your research.

You nodded in agreement and probably spent the next hour or so with Cillian in the small book store looking through Dicken’s many novels.

***

Then, the following day, when you came walking out of your bedroom, you couldn’t believe your eyes when Cillian stood in the kitchen with Emma.

That was two days in a row that you saw each other by chance. Clearly, he didn’t live far from campus either.

‘Oh…uhm…hi’ you said when you realised that he saw you, although deep down inside, you hoped that he didn’t as you were wearing nothing but an old grey t-shirt, cotton panties and a pair of bed socks. Your hair was messy and tied up in a bun and you wore your black framed reading glasses.

‘Hi Y/N’ Cillian said with a warm smile, unable to take his eyes of you, causing your cheeks to flush.

‘Cillian was nice enough to help me carry these upstairs as I ran into him on the street and one of the shopping bags broke’ Emma explained and Cillian was quick to advise her that he needed to leave as he had a call scheduled for 3pm.

‘See you’ you quickly said just as you stumbled back into your room and Cillian nodded, having a slight chuckle as you appeared rather clumsy.

‘Did you instigate this?’ Thomas then laughed and you couldn’t help but poke your head back out of your room, waiting for Emma’s response.

‘Maybe’ Emma then went on to giggle and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at her. She clearly had a crush on Cillian and you certainly couldn’t have told her about why you wanted to change to the other group.

The truth was that you liked Cillian a lot and every day you saw him, you could feel butterflies in your stomach. But it wasn’t like a silly crush. Instead, it was an attraction not only on a physical but also intellectual level. He was funny, smart and you loved talking to him. There was something that distinguished him from guys your age and from other men you’ve met and this is what attracted you.

Every time he came into the coffee shop at which you worked and ordered his latte, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement, something you had never really felt around a man before. But then again, you knew this was pointless and inappropriate and you quickly realised that you shouldn’t waste your time and energy in pursuing anything with man who you barely knew and who was 20 years older than you. You knew you needed to steer clear from him, avoid him wherever you could.

***

Unfortunately for you, it was the Monday on the fourth week of the drama project that Aiden had called in sick for the week after having contracted food poisoning and it was Cillian who took over his project until Aiden’s return.

Instantly, when Cillian walked into the theatre room, your butterflies returned. But, at the same time, you were incredibly nervous. You really didn’t want to work with him again. It was the whole reason you changed groups, so you didn’t have to be around Cillian.

Luckily for you, in this group, you only played a minor part in the play and Cillian was focused on the other students who needed more help than you with the script.

However, following the three-hour program for the day, Cillian asked whether you could see him after class. There was something he wanted to give you for your research program.

You nodded shyly and, after everyone had left, followed him to the office he was assigned temporarily by the university.

‘This is for you’ Cillian grinned as he handed you a print out entitled ‘Dicken’s fascination with Cats’ and you couldn’t help but laugh.

‘Geez, are you still on about that?’ you asked as you realised that Cillian didn’t like to be wrong.

‘What can I say Y/N? It kept me up. I had to research it further’ Cillian laughed before handing you a second print out.

‘Oh common’ you laughed as he handed you a thirteen-page research paper on Dicken’s different cats.

‘Perhaps it is you who likes cats’ you then went on to say and Cillian confirmed that he does, in fact, have a ginger cat named Garfield back in Dublin.

‘Garfield? Now that is a creative name for a ginger cat’ you giggled just as Cillian pulled out his phone and showed you a picture.

‘Cute’ you giggled as you looked at the picture while leaning in closer, your arm brushing against Cillian’s arm gently.

Just as your skin lightly touched his, you could feel goose bumps raise all over your body and it was almost as if Cillian had noticed.

He cleared his throat and you startled, collecting your thoughts before telling him that you should probably get back home.

Cillian nodded but, just as you were about to walk out of the door of his office, he called after you.

‘Y/N?’ he asked and you turned around and looked at him while a short ‘yes’ escaped you.

‘Nothing, sorry’ he then went on to say, realising that, what he was about to ask you was highly inappropriate.

‘Alright, uhm, see you later’ you said just as your cheeks turned red instantly.

***

Later that evening, when you arrived at home, Emma had told you that she had a surprise planned for you.

‘I’ve organised a date for you. Tomorrow night. His name is Patrick, he is Irish and a little older than you. He works at the university hospital and he is taking you to see the game tomorrow, Ireland vs France’ Emma said with some excitement.

‘Emma, I am not going on a date with someone I don’t know’ you fussed but Emma was insistent.

‘You haven’t been with anyone for two years Y/N. Common. Despite we are having a party at the apartment and I know you hate frat parties. Just give him a chance’ Emma said and you immediately rolled your eyes.

‘Fine’ you huffed. ‘But I will meet him at the sports bar at 7 o’clock. He isn’t coming here’ you demanded and Emma nodded excitedly.

 Tag List (Cillian):

@lilymurphy03 @deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall @elenavampire21 @hanster1998 @mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-my-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang @0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney @missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey @janelongxox @uchihacumdump @basiclassy @being-worthy @chaotic-bean-of-smolness @margoo0 @chocolatehalo​ @vhscillian​ @ysmmsy​ @littlewierdalien @crazymar15  ​

Cannot Tag (please check your settings):

@l0tsofpennies @trolleydolly @avonlady1985 @chrisevanshoeee @daydreamingnymph @fookingshelby

[violetdrkside]

i dive into a sea of memories, and collect the pieces of our love

Rating: Mature

Categories: Gen Fic, M/M

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen 呪術廻戦

Relationships: Getou Suguru/Gojo Satoru Getou Suguru & Gojo Satoru

Tags: Angst, Angst and Feels, Hurt No Comfort, Emotional Hurt, Extra Angst, Heavy Angst, SatoSugu, Mentions of Killing, Mentions of Death, JJK Volume 0/Cursed Child Spoilers, Hidden Inventory (Gojo's Past) Spoilers, Shibuya Arc Spoilers, I've had SatoSugu brain rot for over a year (close to two years) and I make sure I make it everyone else's problem, Crossed post on Ao3

Summary: He cannot help, but only think of him. He thinks of every single moment and feeling he has ever shared with and of him. Life can be cruel, and he is not sure how he got here, but sometimes all you can do is dwell on the past as you try and accept your present. It is hard to lose your one and only and the person you ever had. Like slides from movie your brain will play back all those times you ever had of and with them and all you can do is watch.

A/N:

In celebration of Gojo's 1000th day (I know I'm bit late, but let's ignore that) I present some SatoSugu Angst. Also if you do not know what I mean by 1000th day then I would suggest not reading because it might spoil some things for you. Anyway I have severe SatoSugu brain rot. I love them dearly and am obsessed with their relationship and how they interact with one another and how Akutami writes them. The title of the fic is a translated lyric from King Gnu's song 逆夢 (Sakayume) which was featured in the JJK Volume 0 Movie. I looked up multiple sources for the translation of the lyrics and that seems to be the general translation for the lyric. If you have better translations for the song please let me know! But this song absolutely is about Getou and Gojo and makes me sob deep down. BEFORE READING: Volume 0/Cursed Child Spoilers Hidden Inventory (Gojo's Past) Spoilers Shibuya Arc Spoilers (Don't say I did not warn you) Use of King Gnu's lyrics for title. I don't own them. [See end for more notes]

______________________________________________________________

   "Back then, I thought/That you would always be by my side/As if it was a given."

          The amount of time that has passed is undetermined. The same image keeps playing, flickering like a reel of film projecting onto a screen. The sound of a voice imprinted in his mind on a loop saying one thing. He knows what he saw, what he heard, what his cursed energy told him, but deep down in his soul all the facts are deemed false. Whoever that was, it was not the person who he formed an unbreakable connection with. His whole life flashing like slides as he transcends somewhere out of this world. Unsure when the tears started to flow down his face and unsure if it was from laughing or crying. He combs through every scenario of how this could have happened. What curse made him be banished to this realm? The wiring linking back to right before becoming engulfed by this prison. Every single memory with him, about him, of him is what came rushing back to the blindfolded man before the darkness engulfed him.

           How long has it been now? How many times has he thought of these memories? He is starting to become unsure how long he has been in here. Has it been a second, a minute, an hour, a day, a month, a year? Longer than that? 1000 days? Maybe no time has passed at all. Even so…however long it has been, all he can think about is him . His voice. A ghost of his past that he thought he killed, and yet he remains. Well, only his physical embodiment remained, His soul…unfortunately that was lost long ago, perhaps even before he had to take the life of his one, his only.

          He thinks about the first time they met at Jujutsu Tech. How the boy with jet hair and bangs in his face and eyes that closely match had no idea who he even was. He thinks about how they did not even get along at first, but as the days passed, even with different moralities and ideas, one was not seen without the other. He chuckles as he thinks of their fights at Jujutsu Tech, and how the cursed manipulation user would still wield his technique even though he was prohibited from doing so. And all the times Yaga would yell at them for their conduct. How they would drive Shoko crazy from their antics as well.

          He thinks of how all their bickering would end in laughter and no matter their disputes they each knew they could trust and confide in one another even as the sun is setting. All the late nights spent in each other’s rooms to the point it became difficult to tell which room was whose. With clothes left on chairs, souvenirs from all the missions and trips. Different foods and snacks they would bring back to share with one another. He thinks how sometimes their late nights would bleed into early mornings; with droopy eyes and cracked voices as they would fall asleep in one of their beds, because having to travel back to the other’s bed was still too far.

          He thinks about how for the first time he could be free. To travel and see the country and all its variety. How, for the first time, he never had to feel alone and was not treated differently just because he was born with a destiny already planned out for him. Finally, instead of hearing “you” or thinking there was only “me” there was a “we” and an “us.” Neither one of the two had to do anything by themselves because they made a team.

          He wishes that those days of the beginning could go on forever. How he wishes he could hold onto them a little longer. He curses the moment those days became less and less and he wishes he could go back to the day when it was their last. Before everything started to crack and crumble then shatter altogether. Maybe if he knew their last day of laughter and happiness before “we” went back to “you” and “me” he could keep it like that, even if it was just a little longer.

          Unfortunately, he knows when things changed for the two of them. Maybe regardless of the events that had occurred, he could have been more present, he could have gone to change his mind, change his soul before he left completely. That day still haunts him, still lingers, and as much as he wants to deny it, to ignore it, that day was the day he lost all his youth, his hopes, his dreams, all his plans and what could be.

         He remembers how he died that day and how he came back. He remembers thinking how the only person he has ever had was dead too. How he would burn it all down knowing he could not exist in a world where the other was not. He thinks how he should have burnt it down regardless because honestly there was not much left of it anyway. At least not enough for anyone in the future to prosper from it. He thinks of his own face that day. Even though they both have lived, someone who they promised to protect was not. He remembers the brightness and glimmer in his eyes fading along with his smile. How his face became a ghost of what it was.

          That is when the separation started. That is when he was sent on missions alone constantly–when he was recognized as the strongest and no longer needed someone to rely on. That is when everyone started to rely on him . Maybe he could not have changed his destiny. Over all the missions he went on, he would think of him. He would think of how it would be so much better if he were there as well. Just because he did not need him by his side does not mean he did not want him by his side. But that is a lie too: he did need him. With him by his side he was someone, he meant something to people beyond his power, his cursed energy, his six eyes. He remembers all the feelings he felt as a child while in isolation in the confines of his family’s estate flooding back to him as a teenager when he began to spend mission after mission alone. No one to share crepes or other desserts with when he would buy them on their missions away as his best friend would follow and oblige his sweet tooth. Before he knew it all the days were blending together and he wondered if that is what it was like for him as well.

          He should have been there more for him. Maybe convince Yaga that they should do a mission together instead of separately, and have Shoko join them too so it could be like it was in the beginning . Maybe instead of crashing in his own room from the tiring days, he could have gone to his room, to spend the night there like they used to. Talk about their plans and dreams like they always did. He should have been there more for him . He should have been present, because if he himself was still hurting from that fateful day he could only imagine how the other man felt. All he wanted was to see from his eyes and maybe, just maybe, they could fix it together. They could work through all the problems; all the issues they were going through like they always did. Even if there was fighting, he knew laughter would follow.

           He can feel himself finding it hard to breathe. Was it this place he was in? Was it something else? Maybe this time he is actually…dying. How long has it been now? How long has he been lingering on every day he had with him? Every moment. Maybe…maybe…he could not change a single thing. Maybe no matter what he did it would have gone like this. Maybe if he was never in his life, none of this would have happened. Maybe he would have had a chance for a happy life. Besides, you cannot grieve for something you never had in the first place. Maybe he should have stayed in isolation…never gone to Jujutsu Tech. Learned everything from home. Not involving anyone else in his life. Was this the curse he was born with? He could feel the heaviness in his chest growing. Suddenly a thought occurred… 

            Is this what it feels like to swallow curse after curse? Is this how Suguru felt all this time?

        He starts to think of that excruciating day when they met each other in Omoide Yokochō, how he was instructed to execute him, his other half and could not. Instead, he stood there and let him walk away. He regrets letting him go, blending with the crowd. The words he said to him that day still haunt him and quite honestly, he still does not think he has the answer to the question he asked him all those years ago. The heartbreaking honest answer, he kept hidden deep behind his six eyes was he never wanted to become the strongest. He did not want the whole Jujutsu world to rely on him, to use him. He did not solely want to be the strongest, or at least he did not want to be the strongest on his own. If he was going to be the strongest he wanted to do it with him by his side.

            He wanted to go back to when the two of them felt like they were on top of the world. He wanted to go back to when they would say, “We are the strongest.” The only way he has tried to fill this hole is teaching. Teaching the young jujutsu sorcerers and guiding them so they can create a better world, and prevent being in a world like the one he grew up in. He knew at one point that is what the other man would do, before he changed, before he went his own way. He knew they were supposed to teach the new generation. Guide them together, but instead he does it himself, for both of them, for a lost dream they once shared.   

His mind keeps circulating on the same thoughts. Should he have held onto him harder, or maybe a little less? Maybe he should never have let them become as close as they were. Maybe they should have just stayed classmates, nothing more, nothing less. But…he became greedy, in order to feel human. To have someone’s warm breath against your ear as they whisper a secret. To share meals with. To walk alongside someone as shoulders brush against one another. To smile, to laugh, to cry, to fight with. All to feel alive. If he did not share these moments with him, would there have been anyone else who would come along in his life to share them with, to make him feel the way he did with him. To feel things he did not know a person could feel. If it was not for him, would he have been blessed–would he have been cursed–with all these memories, experiences, feelings if it were not for him.

            He thinks of all the years that passed and how the years apart became longer than the years together. He thinks about the possibility of him leaving too. Leaving Jujutsu Tech and going to chase after him, to be with him. Maybe he would not feel the burning of the hole in his heart grow if he were to be by his side again. The life he lived up until this point was originally because of him, before his soul switched, this is the life that he originally wanted.This is what they were supposed to do. To protect, not to harm. He thinks maybe they did curse each other…

            Sitting in the empty classrooms of his youth as the sun set and the sky would change colors, he would sit reminiscing about the things he would tell him. How he made him listen to him, even when he was acting arrogant. No one had ever done that before, but for him, he listened to his friend as he would look into his dark and shining eyes. Through his words he trusted him, and would give him everything.

            That day he came back to their school where they had created so many memories. He could feel him even before seeing him. Even if it had been what seemed like another lifetime, he still memorized everything about him. Then there he was. With the people he now called his family, preaching about his new beliefs to his students. How his voice, his words pierced him because in a different life they were to be side by side teaching these students together. On that day though, he hears that man speak of a different world, a different life his former self would be against. He now speaks of war, of cursing each other. How he remembers his stomach twisting from his words. When did he believe bloodshed would fix everything? Does he not remember that day they almost died, how someone did die, how multiple people died, and what it felt like to see someone with a life lose it in seconds. How horrendous that felt. Here he is now calling for a war, where more lives can, will, and were lost.

            Finally, that day came. The day he had been avoiding since the day he turned his back, never to return. He is not sure if it was cruel or fitting for it to end that way. He really did not want it to be this way. Maybe it would have been easier for him if Yuuta and Rika were the ones that ended his life, or maybe it would not have. Until the end he trusted him. For the other man he held no hard feelings for those of Jujutsu High. They both knew how this would be their last moment with each other. He remembers how he looked into the injured man’s eyes and though they were the same eyes he had always gazed into all those years ago, he knew they were different now. He remembers how he would do anything to see them glow again even just for a moment before he would have to do what he has been dreading to do for all these years. For a second he hoped they could be like they were before.

            It was not that long ago this happened. All the feelings are still there like an open wound. The way he says his name still makes his heart beat a little faster, because it always sounded different when he would say it. Then, when he would speak his name off his tongue he could not help for his stomach to flip, to clench just slightly because was this really going to be the last time he says his name to him. No matter how much he wanted to shove that evening away from his thoughts, it still plays like it was yesterday, every day. He recalls how he wishes he would curse him even if it was a little in the end, but they both know that they could never do that to each other. Though what they will not admit is they already did curse each other. The truth is already there to prove it had done its toll on the two sorcerers. 

He thinks of his last words he said to him and just before he took his last breath. He had laughed and for the man reliving his memories like a featured film, to see him laugh one more time, for his eyes to soften like they once were when they were younger filled him up to the point of absolutely destroying him. Because after this, his worst nightmare was about to come true. To be in a world where the other man would not exist. It did not matter if they were not physically present in each other’s lives these past years, they still both knew that the other one was still breathing, still living their own life. And now…and now…this is where everything ended.

            He thinks back to how he took his last breath before taking someone else’s. He did everything he could to keep his composure, but he knew that the only person he ever had, knew that he was anything but composed. In a flash it was over, but everything else remained. Before he could do anything else he stood there before the man that he thought would always be in his life and let the tears fall from his eyes. The ones he always held back after all these years because now there would never be a “we.” This was it, this is how it ended.

            He thinks about how he had to leave his body there in the alley, to ensure the safety and lives of the jujutsu sorcerers of the future. He thinks back of having to tell Shoko of the death of their friend. She had always kept herself more composed and indifferent of their friend’s leaving. In that moment though he sees how her face drops and eyes begin to water as she too grieves the loss of her friend. Seeing his nonchalant friend and coworker break that composure caused him to break more than he already was. He had convinced her to not dispose of his body and because she was one to not want to get in the middle of things she did not go against his words.

            For the first time Gojo cannot be greedy, he spends the last remaining time he has left with Geto before letting his “family” give him a proper burial. The tears flowing down his face and how he wishes he could have more time and thinks about all their firsts and all their lasts, just as he is reliving them again in the place where time does not exist. Oh how he wishes he could see how they saw each other in each other’s eyes…

    Ever since that day he goes through each day missing him living the fantasies of what they could have had, knowing they are all false realities. He tries to live a life that he would have wanted him to live before things shattered, because that was the only life he ever really wanted. Even though a lot of the days were difficult, and it felt like he would wake up and fall asleep with tears in his sky filled eyes, there were days that felt like the past did not exist only the present. He held onto those days, those moments, because he knew they were precious.

            The hardest days were the ones where it seemed like a new life was forming and though the past can never be erased a new life for the future can still bloom, but then a certain smell, song, sound, place would appear or he would come across something that threw him back to the past and then that is where his mind would live. He would feel the uncertainty clinging with doubt, if he could even be able to get out of the whirling winds of the past to be able to live in the present again. Those days are the hardest because of how warming it is to live in the happy, beautiful moments of the past, because at one point everything he ever wanted was there.

            Now he thinks back to what was moments ago, or has it been longer than that? How long has it been since he saw him? It was him, his body at least, but everything else was not. In the remnants of his soul, he knew that was not the person he shared the deepest connection within his life. How could he be fooled? Did he really miss him that much? Was that truly the thing he desired most, was to have him back? He knows there is so much more in this world and in this life, but without him in it, it is a bit bleak.

            His name keeps ringing inside his head along with his own from the person who he cared about most in this world. When did everything become so cursed?

WC: 3,412

24 October 2022

00:31

Happy 1000th Day of Gojo's Sealing! You did it baby!

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A/N: Hello Lovelies thank you for reading! Apologies for the hurt, but I cannot help it. Shout out to my friend Mint who helped me edit! I highly appreciate it, since I wrote this while recovering from surgery the last two weeks (don't worry I am okay)

Also shout out to all the incredible people from the discord I am apart of and dealing with my SatoSugu brain rot. Plus for always being supportive and encouraging! <3

Please leave comments and thoughts also any constructive criticism! (I don't mind, constructive being key.)  If I missed a tag let me know. And remember the only heart  you should smash is the like button <3 REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!

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