#rust and ruin blogs

[rustandruin]

It’s so sweet how all the other symbiotes have cool powers and stuff and Venom just has his all-abiding love for Eddie.

[xechu]

Dark Requiem

pairing: deity!sukuna x fem!reader wc: 1.9k cw: 18+ mdni. please read my blog rules before interacting. dark themes, power imbalance, near-asphyxiation, implied violence, psychological tension, non-traditional intimacy, forced-kiss scenario tag: drabble-ish, short one-shot, dark fantasy, dark divinity au summary: with no other choice, you turn to a god that was only supposed to exist in bedtime stories. a/n: a tiny spur of inspiration. I've been having writer's block lately. Thank you for reading and enjoy! x

Ask and thou shall receive.

But only at the price of thy soul—willingly offered, never begged for.

He was no saint, no righteous wish granter. He only spoke in contracts and vows.

Time and time again, it had always been the same—humans were proven to be so greedy and fickle. Wanting everything. Sacrificing nothing.

Did they not know? Great things come at an even greater cost?

Sukuna was generous, unlike many other false gods. He had allowed the vowed to revel in their blessings, if only for a while—before coming to collect the price they had dared to forget.

Yet, it was always the same. When it was time to reap—they immediately wallow in regret. Some even try to outsmart their giver and defy the oath they had sworn.

But Sukuna was no fool. He had not endured the turning of millennia by being daft. In the end, he had always found a way to claim what was promised.

And for those who resisted or tried to shirk their obligations, Sukuna reserved a special place in the afterlife for them—condemned to a lifetime of glorious torture and suffering. A place where they wished they had surrendered their soul sooner. Their cries for mercy are a symphony to his ears.

At the sound of the dark cathedral doors creaking open, he watches as his next contract comes through.

A tiny and timid thing: you.

You had heard whispers of a disgraced and banished god—primordial and cruel. Supposedly, he had once dwelled in this abandoned cathedral. For his arrogance and trickery, he was sealed within these thick stones and cold shadows. They said he would pluck children from their homes and eat them, trick fair maidens into offering their purity and virtue, and prey on men for their vitality.

Ryomen Sukuna was described as disgraceful. Deceitful. Glutinous. Cruel. Sadistic.

But it mattered not.

You had not come for salvation, nor redemption.

Only condemnation.

Because it was better to be condemned than to bow beneath a crueler fate.

“I have come to offer myself to you, Ryomen Sukuna,” you said. Despite the grimness of your situation, your voice was soft—but assured.

Standing among these ruins of darkness, rubble, and dust—there was nothing. Only a deafening and oppressive silence. It was quiet, so much so that you could hear the static hum in your own ears.

You wryly scoff to yourself. What had you expected? This was nothing more than fiction. A tale spun to frighten misbehaving children into obedience. And yet, you clung to this bedtime story like scripture. Because what else did you have left?

Then, as hope was about to fade, the moonlight shifted—spilling through the shattered cathedral window like a divine message from the night goddess herself. And there, before you, it illuminated an obsidian statue. Large. Imposing. Watching.

It radiated dark allure, beckoning you to come forth.

To reach out.

Only if you dared.

It felt as though phantom tendrils had begun to snake around your body the moment you locked eyes with the statue—a towering figure, chiseled like a fallen god. Even seated upon a throne of thorns, he felt impossibly tall, impossibly vast. There was a pull. Heavy. Magnetic. Inevitable. Your feet moved toward him, slowly but surely, as if being summoned.

Above you, the long-extinguished black chandelier creaked in protest—its rusted arms swaying with a voice of their own. An eerie warning: Proceed with caution.

You were about to reach a point of no return.

But you steeled yourself, letting instinct guide you, submitting to the darkness before you—for that was what you had desired.

Nothingness. Absolution.

As you ascended, each step reforged your certainty—until at last, you stood before him.

Your mind tells you to not be afraid, but your body trembles, as if it knew you stood before a god. Every fiber instinctively knew to revere, to worship, to submit.

“Sukuna.” His name slipped from your lips, a soft whisper. “I have an offer.”

Once more, you were met with silence. Yet, if this was merely a myth—why did your nerves scream to run?

“Please.” Your voice cracked, laced with desperation. Your heart began to pound. The internal warning becoming louder by each passing moment. “I will give you all that I have to offer.”

Then, suddenly, a crack split the sky. Thunder—loud and rumbling—reverberated so close it felt as though it had struck directly above you. You flinched, instinct to flee immediately kicking in. But before you could run, a large, stony grip closed around your wrist, rooting you in place. Your breath caught in your throat.

Stone became flesh. 

And staring back into your wide, terrified eyes were his—crimson, burning with the intensity and heat of hellfire.

His touch seared into your skin, a brand scorching into you. Around you, the long-dead candles of the cathedral simultaneously blazed to life. But they did not burn with their usual amber hues.

Crimson like blood.

It was the embers of hell.

“Have you suddenly lost the tongue to speak?” His voice boomed.

“I���” The words elude you. Fear gripped at your throat, as you come face to face with Sukuna himself.

“I implore you to find your words promptly,” he hissed, his grip tightening. “Before I silence you for good.”

“I-I have an offer to make with you, Sukuna.”

“Yes, and I have heard that one too many times from you. Are you broken?”

You shook your head. But it only seemed to enrage him further.

“So then speak,” he growled. Impatience lacing his voice. “What is it that you have to offer me?”

You met his burning gaze.

“I shall give you my soul—in exchange for nothing.”

For a moment, he fell silent.

Then he released your wrist. To your surprise, he left no marks behind—no burns, no bruises, not even a trace. Around you, the flames in the cathedral calmed, flickering softly back to their usual amber glow.

A low sigh rumbled from his chest, as if completely underwhelmed and disappointed by your proposal.

“Leave,” Sukuna said coldly.

It was part of the divine restriction. A strict decree written into the very laws of his existence. He could not ask for a soul outside the bounds of a contract. He could not take without giving something in return. Death was not an acceptable clause. And above all, he was forbidden from ever mentioning the restrictions. To do so would be seen as influencing choice and corrupting the offering.

You blinked a few times, eyes wide in disbelief.

He rejected your offer.

Was that possible?

You had thought your offer would be rather appealing. But more importantly, your life had depended on him taking you. Walking away was not an option.

“N-no!” You collapsed to your knees. “Please, take me…if not my soul.”

He stared down at you, expressionless.

“You are a rather dense and insolent little thing,” he snarled.

In a flash, his hand wrapped around your throat, harshly pulling you upward until your gaze was locked with his. Dark violence surged through him—to crush, to silence, to smother the defiance trembling in your voice.

You gasped for air as his hand constricted your airway unable to speak, unable to voice your defense. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as your comparatively small hands clawed feebly at his—a silent, instinctive plea for mercy.

A chill of excitement ran down Sukuna’s spine, at the sight of your struggle. The way you callously sign away your life…only to claw at it now.

Desperate. Pathetic. Human.

That selfish desire to live. To survive. It was the very trait he had come to despise. But in you…it intrigued him.

“Do not play me a fool. No one gives up their soul for nothing,” he said lowly.

You couldn’t answer. Your throat burned, your mind slipping into static. The world around you spun, and the corners of your vision began to darken, collapsing inwards.

Just as you thought he had granted you death—his grip released. Air. He drops you onto the stone cold floor by his feet. You crumple up, as your lungs violently convulse in broken gasps for air. But no matter how you fought to breathe, it seemed your lungs had forgotten how. Your breaths shallow and irregular. Failing.

“Weak,” Sukuna muttered, irritation lacing his voice.

Without warning, he scooped you up like a ragdoll, your limbs limp in his grasp. He sat down with you sprawled across his lap, one hand tilting your chin up.

And then, he crushed his lips to yours. Not in hunger. Not in lust.

But to breathe air into you.

Life flickered back into your eyes. As your gaze met his, Sukuna felt something coil dark and low in his gut. A sick pleasure. A thrill. A hunger.

But his hubris would never allow him to beg—divine restriction or not.

So instead, he would plant the seed. Water the thought. Nurture the desire. Until you were the one to offer it. Willingly.

“You should have let me go,” you whispered. Those were the first words you managed to speak.

Sukuna tilted his head, eyes glinting.

“But that is not what your body says.”

His sharp black nails scrape across your pulse—strong, alive.

“So tell me,” he purred. “What is it you truly desire?”

You did not hesitate. “I desire the freedom of death.”

Sukuna scoffed.

“Not good enough.”

Again, for the small and insignificant thing you were, you were irritatingly persistent. Had he not been bound by the laws of the universe, he would have claimed your soul long ago and savored the ruin of it.

He would have made you scream. 

Beg. 

Break.

And just as death reached for you—when that final stillness settled in your gaze, and you thought you had earned peace—he would have taken it all away. Simply because he could.

He wanted your pain. Your desperation. Your submission to your own hypocrisy.

He wanted to see you unravel. To witness the exact moment you realized you had betrayed your morals, your body, your heart, your dignity.

Even now—barely breathing—you wore that pathetic mask of defiance.

“If you cannot take my soul…then allow me to stay here. That is all I ask,” you said softly.

“That is all you ask?” he repeated, voice curling into a mockery.

“Please,” you breathed. “I have nowhere else to go.”

Sukuna regarded you in silence for a moment, his expression apathetic.

“I am no charitable god,” he said. “What will you offer me?”

Your eyes narrowed. If he did not want your soul, what else did you have to offer?

You felt pathetic. Your dignity shattered. You had walked through the doors thinking your offer would be enticing. That Sukuna, of all beings, would accept it without question.

Alas, your wretched soul was not even worthy of condemnation.

“Then tell me—what is it that you want?”

“What will you offer?” He asked again, voice low, quiet, and insistent. Yet, you still could not understand why.

“Please,” you whispered. “Reconsider it, Sukuna.”

You swallowed hard. Your body screamed to run—a final warning that you were treading dangerous waters. But you did not listen.

“My soul…for your shelter and protection.” Your trembling hands rose to his chest, fingers barely brushing the stone-cold flesh. “Please.”

His eyes darkened.

“Then let this vow be binding,” he said.

And then—he crushed his lips onto yours once more. Not to save. Not to silence. 

But to bind.

Writing © xechu - please do not redistribute, translate, or repost any of my works.

Graphic divider source: here via @/troublesomesnitch

[noinoi10101010]

I PUT MY MUTUALS AND SAMS CHARACTERS IN A HUNGER GAME SIMULATOR

@zampop2 and dazzle fight for a bag dazzle gives up and retreats

Ruin and @llamaisllama777 split up to search for resources

Frost scares @silly-a-777 off

@zampop2 and @pinkydee10 work together to drown Nexus

Ruin defeats @goodolddumbbanana in a fight but spares his life

Ballora me and @doodledrawz start fighting but I run away as ballora kills @doodledrawz

Ruin tends @goodolddumbbanana wounds

@sabrondabrainrot moon and roxas get into a fight roxas triumphantly kills them both

Solar tends to @lednet-sorrow-au-blog wounds

I divert jack o moon attention and runs away

@weirdcoregal35 silently snaps roxas neck

@weirdcoregal35 overhears monty and solar talking in the distance

Ruin uses the squirrels to his advantage shoving @oh-fiddle-sticks into them

Rusted quietly hums

the winner is Rusted from distract 4

Round 2

Sun overhears @catspawcreates and @goodolddumbbanana taking in the distance

Charlie steals from @theinfamousmaybelle while she isn't looking

@ikamigami is unable to start a fire and sleeps without warmth

moon screams for help

Sun questions his sanity

@ikamigami tries to sleep through the entire day

@silly-a-777 stalks solar

ruin overpowers @zampop2 killing her

@theinfamousmaybelle dazzle jack o moon and @catspawcreates tell each ghost stories to lighten the mood

@ikamigami stays awake all night

@sillyzone1209 puppet Molly and @silly-a-777 Tell each other ghosts stories to lighten the mood

Jack o moon throws a knife into @aghh-hhhh head

Rusted forces Monty to kill @silly-a-777 or @ikamigami he refuses. To kill so rusted kills him instead

@oh-fiddle-sticks silently snaps dazzle neck

Ruin sets an explosive off killing ballora and @silly-a-777

Me and sun tell stories themselves to each other

Charlie and @sillyzone1209 tell stories about themselves to each other

Ruin Molly and clipsy successful ambush and kill @sillyzone1209 Charlie and @catspawcreates

I attack @pinkydee10 but puppet protects her killing me

@pinkydee10 steals ruins memoirs

Ruin and @pinkydee10 sleep in shifts

Sun begs @theinfamousmaybelle to kill him she refuses keeping sun alive

The winner is puppet from district 10

Ruin had 7 kills

clipsy had 6 kills

Molly had 6 kills

Final round

kill code @weirdcoregal35 and @cosmossnake get into a fight @cosmossnake triumphantly kills them both

@oh-fiddle-sticks snatches a bottle of alcohol and a rag

@ikamigami sun and @lednet-sorrow-au-blog work together to get as many supplies as possible

Ruin @sillyzone1209 @tincan-fandomfreak @llamaisllama777 hunt for other tributes

Rusted and @goodolddumbbanana hunt for other tributes

@dolce-cerise uses the squirrels to her advantage shoving dazzle into them

@llamaisllama777 silently snaps eclipse neck

@fizzypop-yum sun @ikamigami and @doodledrawz tell each ghost stories to lighten the mood

@doodledrawz Molly me and ruin tell each ghost stories to lighten the mood

@doodledrawz and sun sleep in shifts

@zampop2 tends to @doodledrawz winds

I fling my weapon around accidentally killing Molly

Frost @catspawcreates and sun cheerful sing songs together

Sun and Monty get into a fight over raw meat sun gives up and retreats

@ikamigami know nova for his supplies

Frost severely injuries me and leaves me to die

The winner is @ikamigami from distract 1

[moonlaceletters]

hey hi! Can you do yandere France x reader? Thanks, ((also, btw your blog is super pretty!!))

yandere! france x reader / intro

୨୧ ˖˚ nota bene - before you read ˚˖ ୨୧ ʚ frilly lace veil pages, bloodied by mortar ash.

⊱ bombed out crater in the middle of the cobblestone streets, carriage of broken metal & pair of terrified eyes, glimmering with tears ❤︎

ʚɞ ꒰ thank you so much, darling! within loss of humanity, hearts shatter the most ♡₊˚ ꒱

୨୧ reader discretion is strongly advised. proceed gently — this piece is undiluted potrayal of war realities & related issues.

⊱ album of literary vignettes in the 'estranged flowers of time' style ❤︎꒰ alternate version⊱ luna is essence, meant to be you ❤︎

themes include:

⊱ disability / chronic illness / scarcity & make-mend-do survival tactics ⊱ historically accurate characterisation ⊱ set in summer of 1940, during fall of france ʚ graphic depictions of armed conflict, gestapo & such ⊱ a once-refined man with the remnants of powdered elegance, now soaked in grime and grief

The air always — always— smelled like damp rust and basil. Because there was a single potted plant on the pantry shelf — tiny, roundest thing, kept alive with drops of water and sunlit wishes. Francis named it — ‘Liberté / Freedom’

Luna conversed often, pouring heartfelt worries to him.

It wilted, but it never died — from the sheer will to live under the most terrible circumstances.

Just couple of bruised, tender souls underground — twistedly sacred— where beauty does not just survive war — but defies it.

There were only three spoons in the house — if it could be even called that — two bowls. One teacup — another one shattered against the concrete, days prior. Rotated like a sacrament.

Francis cooked with stubborn care — bouillon cubes, bread crusts soaked soft in milk, a fried egg when he could barter a favor from the boy who ran pigeons through the quarter. Everything came on a tray — insisted. Tray service, even in a cellar. She had to eat like a lady.

Simplest of manners refused to rot, even if entire cultures were erased, massacred and rewritten under the regime's fingertips.

The wheelchair came next — wobbly contraption, but created with much love as possible to muster.

Made it in pieces — over the course of days, between bombing runs.

There was no blueprint — memory. He had seen one — only once, in Reims, years ago.

So, in all make-shift planning — redrew it in chalk on the stone wall of the cellar, full scale; took measurements with a spool of thread.

Smoothed out, sanded down jagged pipe ends by hand — wrapped the hand-rims in stitched leather cut from his old boots — make, mend, do.

When the front caster wheel did not turn well — creaking horribly; the swivel mount was built out of wine corks, wire, and melted-down tin by the fireplace.

The seat? A cushion from an abandoned brothel lounge chair, still red velvet beneath the dust; fabric scrubbed until the color came back.

When it was done — finally, Francis brought it to her as a knight — no semblance to smile, only tragic reverence.

‘It’s haunted’ — rasped out words; girl blinking at the mess of welded parts.

Oh, the poor soul looked utterly, profoundly offended, in that very peculiar French way — hand to chest, brow furrowed.

‘Beautiful’ — kneeling down besides.

‘It’s the first ever throne I made with my hands’

She blinked again, unsettled by confusion.

‘A… throne?’ — unsure whether to laugh or cry.

‘I made you a way to move’

Too long-stretching pause followed by the awkward shuffle of shoulders with a sigh of purest disappointment.

‘Same thing, really’

And this is how things went.

Once per week — exactly, when everything fell quiet outside; with kindest devotion, Francis travelled together through the ruins of their block. Always at night, through alleyways. Luna draped in scavenged, faded shawls and scarves — him in an old overcoat, kept from the Great War, collar turned up.

Pointing to ruined buildings, signs wallowing in dust.

‘Here was a bakery, lived a kind man…’ ‘So sad… the children used to play here, at this playground, it was one of the best’ ‘Oh, neighbourhood cat is gone… tragic’

Voice cracked sharply, as a screeching violin — tears washed to the pavement.

Other days, they read—

Books smuggled from the Sorbonne underground — classics; Francis would sit on the floor, close — to provide the slightest note of warmth — reading aloud, in French first— translating softly to English moments later.

‘You must learn both’ — warned, once. ‘If you’re going to carry the world on your shoulders’

And the lines between softest worship and war-induced-tragedy-madness, shattering of the soul — kept blurring.

In the still evenings, if any remained — would brush porcelain locks — scrubbed gently, cleansing them raw in the rusty bathtub — too long or kiss her wrist too softly.

Whisper promises in French she did not always understand.

‘Je t’enfermerai dans la beauté pour te sauver du monde / I will lock you in beauty to save you from the world’

And each night, without a break — curled besides the wheelchair akin to guarding an altar; fingers always touching, ghosting some part of the old blanket. So the fractured vessel of the heart would know if she disappeared.

It started wrong — not with the muffled sound of footsteps beneath concrete or jolting bang. But with the flicker of dust in the trapdoor’s frame, like it had shifted — just a hair — tad too fast; shivers crawling down the skin.

Luna felt it, the way air changed — silence full with poison; already reaching for the drawer; revolver laid in—

Francis had just stepped out — five minutes. Merely to gather rations or exchange intel. Or to breathe air that did not smell like rot beneath the lungs, resembling a flicker of falsified peace.

Creaking wood — a boot.

Two boots.

German — too clean, practiced — routine. One word repeated as a threat.

‘Durchsuchen / Search’

2 seconds until hell erupted; fingers frantically rummaging across empty drawer— Checking over and over and over—

Shit, shit, shit—

The trapdoor flung open with sickening — thud; flashlight beam, breath freezing in the throat.

Could not run or scream — or even reach the pan by the stove. The sharp light hit horrified face; hearing stomach-dropping, defiling smirk—

A chuckle, tap of the lips.

‘Was ist das— / What is that—’

Oh, and then— then—

The moment, split second, spent sigh — where past poetry breaks down into violence, and the beautiful ruins are no longer enough to cage the ancient empire France always has been.

Bang — one shot. Another, reverberating straight across. Sick, grotesque — deserved sound of a man collapsing down wooden steps, body tumbling, hitting like meat, a scream cut off mid-shattering spine.

Twitching body slammed the pantry shelf — Liberté, the smallest darling — crashed to the floor, soil spilled, mourning.

France.

Hair windblown, sticking to dampness of the neck — mouth smeared with crimson from clenching the barrel of the pistol, as if metal was held between the teeth.

Face contorted — wrath of ancient, divine and cursed all-at-once, roaring behind his eyes — the same nation, which clawed through Roman blood, bathed in endless lovers, crowned emperors, and burned a thousand peasants for the sin of forgetting his name.

And twisted beneath— a revolver.

Came the other one within spit second — younger, eager, less calculated — too quick on the draw.

Luna screeched lungs out, tried to crawl — useless, useless, spine dragging like dead weight—

‘FRANCIS!’

The man garbled incoherently, raised the rifle—

And the poor girl — trembling, bleeding, desperate, threw something nearby. Metal caught light mid-air. A fireplace poker.

The other man — barely drew breath before it caved in his jaw.

Again. Again. Again.

Screaming in French, not just curses of mortals — Bourbons might have used them, soaked in royalist poison.

‘Enfoiré d’assassin! Fils de putain Nazi! T’approches pas d’elle, j’te détruis, j’te déchire—! / You murderer! You Nazi bastard! Don't you dare go near her, or I'll destroy you, I'll tear you apart—’

Blood cascaded, splattering — teeth bounced across the floor; man struggling to writhe away.

Not the gentleman Luna knew, or flirt — or, jokingly — the bon vivant society was aware of.

This was not the France who served wine with breakfast and offered sincere smiles; on the piles of bones, this was the France who had bled half of Europe into the Seine.

The Empire, spoken in hushed whispers, laced in fear.

Did not poison French. Used Latin — expression, older than gods, instead.

‘Per sanguinem regnabo / Through blood, I shall reign’

Struck once, calculated— the soldier had no time to beg for forgiveness; neck snapped too fast. One twist, one thrust.

‘Quod possideo, protegam / What I possess, I protect’

Words burned into the stone as a sinful sacrament of God’s will. And... silence.

Watched him kneel; legs buckling underneath; soaked in the blood of two men.

And he smiled, panting — the ecstasy of murder had released something long hidden, tucked away since Interwar — as murder was merely a blissful cleansing ritual for the sanctity of the state.

Gazed upon — eyes glistening, made of dying stars.

‘You see now, don’t you?’

Stood slowly, dragging the poker across the floor to hang it — metal scraped, singing in agony.

‘You thought I was charming. French. Libertine' ‘No, chérie; that’s not how reality works. I’m the reason monarchs feared mirrors’

Luna trembled — eyes darting between the man in front of her and two bodies sprawled across. Frozen, horrified; heart drumming away, ears sickeningly ringing.

‘They’ll come again’ A creak.

‘They’ll keep coming’ Jarring scrape.

‘Because they can smell what you are. And I cannot let them take you’

Clink — of the rod showed into the place a little too fast, cooling on the flagstone. The stuffy air still reeked of gunpowder and sickeningly cracked marrow.

He stepped close; running smeared, trembling hands through disheveled curls.

‘So I’ll keep killing the rats, doing favour to the republic— one by one, until none’s left. Until you understand something very simple—’

Francis lowered, kneeling — tenderly, face to hers; hands twitching with too much energy, still ecstatic from the kill.

‘I’m doing this to protect you’

She should have been horrified — screaming, sobbing eyes out— but these were difficult times and morals trampled underfoot routinely— But Luna — slumped against the wall, lips pale, breath ragged — voice finally found.

‘…it was never going to end, was it?’ — hoarse whisper.

Eyelashes fluttered, brows knitting in confusion.

‘France always bleeds. That's how he remembers who he is, destined to be’

It was not right — neither laid corpses meters away; or people hunted for sport in the streets; neither forbidden prophecy in works, spoken by a girl with twisted form; or a broken man — holding into rough remnants of eroded pride.

She looked up at him, eyes glassy — body still folded wrong, broken spine. Half, in shock; mumbled — reciting a truth from an abandoned scripture, not knowing such truths were fatal.

‘You’re not… a man. You’re a memory. The blood is your language. You're not supposed to be soft’

‘They don’t make men like you. Not anymore’

Voice cracked by the end, but it was too late.

And for the first time in six hundred years — he did not know if he was supposed to kneel, or let tears dictate the judgement, or drive the blade across her heart. Nations did not die — made to suffer as eternal punishment and consequence, in such.

Her face… it was wrong for this century. Soft, too innocent.

Divine in that way that terrified monarchs. The kind of expression ancient kings saw just before giving up crowns; wrapped in a blanket, hazy, largest eyes, tucked into the corner — forced to look away.

The bodies were gone, hastily dragged. Somewhere beneath the boards, where the sewers could carry out the rot in anonymity.

The poker was back on the hook — blood on the stone had been meticulously scrubbed with a worn linen, tossed out the window as if it were nothing more than spilled wine.

Outside, a scream echoed, far off. A boy, perhaps. Or an order being barked.

Behind him, Luna sat — or laid, splayed out. It was difficult to tell.

White hair — last frost on ash-covered ground, matted slightly where the head had hit the stone. Merely observing.

‘They tore my name from my spine; told me I was nothing’ — absent confession.

‘And then I started remembering’

There it was — not a nation, or an empire.

But the ghost of a consequence; born not from borders, but from the ashes of too many wrong wars; a curse — stands still in the aftermath, not mortal either, not anymore.

Forgotten, or perhaps deliberately misplaced by history.

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Treasure

Author's note: I'm going to be trying to do Mermay 2025.

Summary: Amaden in Mer AU

Warnings: None. LMK if I need to add something

tagged: @sleepyfan-blog @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @i-am-a-dragon34 @ms--lobotomy @jaghatai-khock

tagged: @kit-williams @whorety-k @bleedingichorhearts @thevoidscreams @gra93fruit-blog

Tagged: @felinisnoctis @bispecsual, @egrets-not-regrets @finchly-tintinnabulation

He has hauled up some rotted would- rusted metal- and sometimes some bits and bobs that could be useful with a bit of elbow grease and spit-shine to polish it up. "Plucking riches from the bottom of the sea."

Amaden is humming to himself as he dives down deep and pulls up some fascinating treasures, "Down in the trench where the sun doesn't gleam."

He is hauling up some long lost treasures- fallen to the floor of the ocean of Ancient Terra- he's doing some reconnaissance and gathering supplies to be used or traded among the Hydra shoals. "Past ruins and wreckage and whispering nightmares."

He nods towards some of the others who are on the retrieval mission with him. He's in his guise as a Salamander as he's helping the shoal he's swimming with a mixed blend of Loyalists and Renegades- they are headings towards Steelix Cliff Base.

"Gold Doubloons and silver spoons," Amaden continues to sings as he finds a half rotted chest filled with shinnies and treasures.

"What'cha got there Cousin?" Jeroth asks, a gruff, but good listener- he's an Imperial fist.

"Treasure to trade, cousin," Amaden says as he shows the chest with shiny things in it.

"Wonderful." Jeroth says as he scratches at his left cheek a bit. "What's in it?"

"Sunken runs and pearls in shells," Amaden sings as he continues to move.

"I see your in a strange mood- singin' like that." Jeroth says with a sigh.

His cousin certain is a strange one at times.

[moony-buckets]

IM MOONY!!

Pronouns: They/Them

Uhmmmmmmm I do doodle requests and answer asks!!

Rules??: keep it pg14 and be nice!!

I like to draw and uhmmmm DEAL WITH ME!!

my agere blog is @alice-buckets

Ill add my aus once I make the blogs for them!!

Actually my child:

@ravens-and-rust

We most likely have osdd (hoping to get diagnosed) and will make alter intros soon!

^ Ruin Gender flag by @zeepuu

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

So does that mean you going to do the body swap request?

It did not as i did not want to put Jack on my blog (he's on my ao3 though cuz tagging is better there) but here we are SHRUG

Rated Mature | Warnings: It's Jack tbh thts the whole warning

To damage this skin without the proper tools is like ruining a high-quality canvas with watercolor paint for children, no matter how much being in your body is setting him off. The mirror in your room would have been nearly shattered if the hunter had controlled himself. Dressing you did not feel anything similar to undressing you.

“That bad?” If he looks towards the direction of his voice but your words, he might try to get you to stab him. Jack cannot do so as you would not harm your body but also you have no experience or skill in the tools of his artful craft.

“Maybe the Baron might laugh himself to death with the mess this is causing.” You are sitting on a seat with one leg over the other, the mask off exposing his face. Older, handsome; you said you might have found him appealing if you knew nothing about him.

How cute given he knows you find him handsome now and hate it; ah, the limitations of a moral compass.

“Nothing to say? That's a first.” You say with a dry chuckle as you know why he is quiet, he literally is hiding in the bedsheets of his bed refusing to see himself in your body. “Your body is weird. Being this tall, large hands, not to mention your fucking tongue.” You are trying to fill the uncomfortable silence he wants so badly, you normally would but you are having your own issues being in his body.

The Ripper, you are possessing the body of an infamous murderer… This body, these hands have killed countless women in Whitechapel. You hate him, disgusted by him, yet these games have caused two very unlikely people to have… You are not going to call having conflicted sex with him a bonding experience. It only pisses you off more.

Additionally, the Baron seems to love the dynamic you both have to the point of causing unwanted situations like this to see what will happen.

“You should also consider cleaning your claws. These are rusted.”

Nothing.

“Your clothing tastes suck too.”

Still nothing.

“I'm going to the bathroom to jerk you off.”

He glares at you from his bed and under the blankets, a sneer of annoyance.

“Whatever.” Crossing your arms carefully, “Old bastard.”

Hours passed, and Jack nearly started scratching your skin so you did in fact jerk off as him in the bathroom because you hate him. Luckily, the effects wore off before Jack's next match. Unlucky for you, he took it upon himself to return the favor for him.

[taylorswiftandx]

Taylor Swift and Opposites

Note: huge thank you to @meandmypagancrew for assembling all the lyrics for this post! At the same time, they also created an amazing, giant set of lyrics I'm tentatively calling TS and Juxtapositions, which is a looser interpretation of this "opposites" prompt, and which tumblr is currently not letting me actually post on the blog due to its length. Hopefully I can find a workaround soon.

'Taylor Swift'

I’m Only Me When I’m With You: I’m only up when you’re not down

'Fearless (Taylor's Version)'

Love Story: You’ll be the prince and I’ll be the princess

You Belong With Me: She wears high heels, I wear sneakers

You Belong With Me: I’m the one who makes you laugh when you know you’re about to cry

Forever & Always: It rains when you’re here and it rains when you’re gone

Forever & Always: So here’s to everything coming down to nothing

SuperStar: This is wrong but I can’t help but feel like there ain’t nothing more right, babe

You All Over Me: Held out, and held on God knows too long

That’s When: When it’s sunny or storming

That’s When: Laughing, when I’m crying

That’s When: It was sunny or storming

'Speak Now (Taylor’s Version)'

Mine: You made a rebel of a careless man’s careful daughter

Mine: I fell in love with a careless man’s careful daughter

Sparks Fly: It’s just wrong enough to make it feel right

Dear John: Or maybe it’s you and your sick need to give love then take it away

When Emma Falls In Love: She waits and takes her time ‘cause little Miss Sunshine always thinks it’s gonna rain

'Red (Taylor's Version)'

All Too Well: You taught me ‘bout your past, thinking your future was me

22: It’s miserable and magical

I Almost Do: I hope you know that every time I don’t, I almost do

We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together: I say “I hate you,” we break up, you call me, “I love you.”

Begin Again: He didn’t like it when I wore high heels but I do

Begin Again: He always said he didn’t get this song but I do, I do

Begin Again: You don’t know how nice that is, but I do

Forever Winter: He spends most of his flights getting pulled down by gravity

Forever Winter: I’ll be summer sun for your forever, forever winter if you go

'1989 (Taylor’s Version)'

Blank Space: I can make the bad guys good for a weekend

Blank Space: You’re the King, baby, I’m your Queen

Blank Space: Darling, I’m a nightmare dressed like a daydream

Out Of The Woods: The rest of the world was black and white, but we were in screaming color

Out Of The Woods: We were built to fall apart then fall back together

I Wish You Would: We’re a crooked love in a straight line down

I Wish You Would: You gave me everything and nothing

Bad Blood: Did you have to ruin what was shiny? Now it’s all rusted

How You Get The Girl: And then you say, “I want you for worse or for better”

This Love: This love is good, this love is bad

This Love: This love is alive, back from the dead

Wonderland: Whispers turned to talking and talking turned to screams

“Slut!”: In a world of boys, he’s a gentleman

Say Don’t Go: Now your silence has me screaming, screaming

'reputation'

…Ready For It?: Some, some boys are trying too hard, he don’t try at all though

I Did Something Bad: They say I did something bad, then why’s it feel so good?

I Did Something Bad: You gotta leave before you get left

Gorgeous: You make me so happy it turns back to sad

Getaway Car: The ties were black, the lies were white in shades of grey and candlelight

Dress: Even in my worst times, you could see the best of me

Dress: Even in my worst lies, you saw the truth in me

'Lover'

I Forgot That You Existed: It isn’t love, it isn’t hate, it’s just indifference

Cruel Summer: Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes

The Man: And it’s all good if you’re bad

The Archer: I say I don’t want that, but what if I do?

The Archer: Easy they come, easy they go

The Archer: Who could ever leave me, darling, but who could stay?

You Need To Calm Down: Sunshine on the street at the parade, but you would rather be in the dark ages

Daylight: I wounded the good and I trusted the wicked

Daylight: I want to be defined by the things that I love, not the things I hate

'folklore'

the 1: Been saying “yes” instead of “no”

cardigan: A friend to all is a friend to none

cardigan: Chase two girls, lose the one

this is me trying: I had the shiniest wheels, now they’re rusting

illicit affairs: It’s born from just one single glance but it dies and it dies and it dies a million little times

illicit affairs: They show their truth one single time but they lie and they lie and they lie a million little times

invisible string: Hell was the journey but it brought me heaven

epiphany: Watch you breathe in, watch you breathing out, out

epiphany: Someone’s daughter, someone’s mother

betty: I don’t know anything, but I know I miss you

betty: Those days turned into nights

peace: I’d give you my sunshine, give you my best, but the rain is always gonna come if you’re standing with me

'evermore'

willow: The more that you say, the less I know

'tis the damn season: I won’t ask you to wait if you don’t ask me to stay

tolerate it: I notice everything you do or don’t do

tolerate it: I know my love should be celebrated but you tolerate it

tolerate it: Gain the weight of you then lose it

ivy: I’d live and die for moments that we stole

marjorie: What died didn’t stay dead, you’re alive, you’re alive in my head

marjorie: What died didn’t stay dead, you’re alive, so alive

closure: I know I’m just a wrinkle in your new life, staying friends would iron it out so nice

right where you left me: Friends break up, friends get married

right where you left me: Strangers get born, strangers get buried

'Midnights'

Anti-Hero: Midnights become my afternoons

Midnight Rain: He was sunshine, I was midnight rain

Question…?: Good girl, sad boy

Vigilante Shit: I don’t dress for women, I don’t dress for men

Vigilante Shit: I don’t start shit but I can tell you how it ends

Vigilante Shit: She don’t start shit but she can tell you how it ends

Bejeweled: Don’t put me in the basement when I want the penthouse of your heart

Labyrinth: Breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, breathe out

Labyrinth: Break up, break free, break through, break down

‘The Tortured Poets Department’

But Daddy I Love Him: Growing up precocious sometimes means not growing up at all

Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?: If you wanted me dead, you should’ve just said, nothing makes me feel more alive

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can): I can fix him, no really, I can, woah, maybe I can’t

loml: Still alive, killing time at the cemetery, never quite buried

loml: You low-down boy, you stand-up guy

loml: When your impressionist paintings of heaven turned out to be fakes, well, you took me to hell too

loml: What we thought was for all time was momentary

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived: And I don’t even want you back, I just want to know if rusting my sparkling summer was the goal

Clara Bow: It’s hell on earth to be heavenly

imgonnagetyouback: Told my friends I hate you, but I love you just the same

The Albatross: The devil that you know looks now more like an angel

The Prophecy: I guess a lesser woman would’ve lost hope, a greater woman wouldn’t beg

Cassandra: When it���s “burn the bitch,” they’re shrieking, when the truth comes out, it’s quiet

The Manuscript: Looking backwards might be the only way to move forward

Other Songs written by Taylor

Beautiful Ghosts: Born into nothing, at least you have something

Beautiful Ghosts: Born into nothing, with them I have something, something to cling to

I Don’t Wanna Live Forever: Give me something, oh, but you say nothing

I Heart ?: I’ll be fine if you just walk by but you had to talk about why you were wrong and I was right

I Heart ?: And now you ask about you and I, there’s no you and I

Only The Young: The game was rigged, the ref got tricked, the wrong ones think they’re right

Only The Young: They think that it’s over but it’s just begun

Renegade: There was nowhere for me to stay, but I stayed anyway

You’ll Always Find Your Way Back Home: You can say goodbye and you can say hello

You’ll Always Find Your Way Back Home: You can laugh and cry

Official Alternate Releases

Vigilante Shit (Clean Version): I don’t start it but I can tell you how it ends

Vigilante Shit (Clean Version): She don’t start it but she can tell you how it ends

Cassandra (Clean Version): When its “burn the witch,” they’re shrieking, when the truth comes out it’s quiet

[ant1quar1an]

UPDATED DUSTVERSE NAMES LIST

( With Creators/People who added the Dust to the OG post )

OG Dust

Belongs to Ask-Dusttale

Ash

BS!Dust. Belongs to @/absurdumsid.

Ruins

CV Dust. Belongs to @/askquellowsans

Remnant

Also known as Quellow. Belongs to @/askquellowsans

Flumen (And Dyst)

A Swap Sans who wears the clothes of a fallen "friend", Dyst.

Created by @/rushin-safire

Dusty Crumb

Belongs to @/kredena-dark

Has been corrected ✨

Discard

Also known as Voidface Dust, submitted by @/elizakai

Reject

Tall Dust, submitted by @/elizakai

Cinder

Femme Dust, belongs to @/elizakai

Debris

Idol Dust, designed by @/safwunnz, created by @/zucchiyeni

Wilt

Bald Dust, submitted by @/swiftmitsu

Sprinkle

Friendly Dust, @/dustsansm1 Dust, essentially, designed by @/absurdumsid

Non-romanceable. A content creator here on Tumblr.

Spread

BIB Dust, belongs to @/thelunarsystemwrites

Scraps

Saejun!Dust, belongs to @/absurdumsid

has been corrected ✨

Husks

Cap-wearing Dust, submitted by @/swiftmitsu

Mote

Detective Dust, belongs (I believe) to @/switchthedragon

Fos (Fossilz)

Fos/Fossilz Dust belongs to @/safwunnz

Pendulum

Time traveller Dust, belongs to @/ksopaz

has been corrected ✨

Detritus

Biblically Accurate Dust, belongs to @/elizakai

Olyu

Olyu, Error!Dust, belongs to @/glitchedcodez

Fracture

Ivan!Dust, belongs to @/absurdumsid

has been corrected ✨

Serial

Killer-Dust fusion, belongs to @/swiftmisu

Dander

Bitty bat Dust, belongs to @/mellybabbles

Erosion

Eldritch Dust, belongs to (/submitted by) @/wr-n

Smog

Smiles, submitted by @/elizakai

Pollen

Bitty Dust, submitted by @/createbellatheartist

Miasma

Brother Dust, belongs to @/elizakai

Haze

Drugdealer Dust that's constantly high and Built Different™, submitted by @/elizakai

Atrophy

Mr Feral McStabby, submitted by @/elizakai

Talc

Limbus Company Dust, belongs to @/tuxibirdie

Webs

Mttbs Dust, belongs to @/justanidiotartist

Malaise

Nun Dust, submitted by @/elizakai

Decay

Avian Dust, belongs to Me (@/ant1quarian)

Fallout

Witherborn Dust, belongs to Me (@/ant1quarian)

Soot

Mafiadust Sans, belongs to Me (@/antiquarian)

Molt

Flighteningtale Dust, belongs to @/dragon-tamer-1

Misery

Transfem Dust, belongs to @/mellybabbles

Mites

Middleschool (Cat?) Dust, belongs to @/inkcat1987

Residue

Magical Girl Duster, belongs to @/thelunarsystemwrites

Grit

BT!Dust (Goblin Dust), belongs to @/shadowy-suitcase-herring-neck

Fuzz

Cat Dust, belongs to @/squidiott

Corrosion

Underworld Society!Dust, submitted by @/absurdumsid, belongs to @/machicoasa625 on Twitter

Malicious (Mal)

Mind's Multiverse!Dust, belongs to @/solusminds

Specks

Glasses Dust, submitted by @/elizakai

Heather

Heathers!Dust, belongs to @/a-whispering-echo

Plague

Pestilence!Dust, belongs to @/a-whispering-echo

Murmur

Ghost!Dust, belongs to @/a-whispering-echo

Crow

EtherealDreamtale!Dust, belongs to @/fictionalshippingbean

Stain

Dust!Ink, submitted by me, belongs to Ssgt. Frost or Undriel

Burgundy

Dust!Fell, who was submitted by me, @/ant1quarian

Wraith

Festivalverse!Dust, belongs to @/meimeikyu

Rust

Fiend or Foe Dust, belongs to @/liliallowed

has been corrected ✨

Closure

GOD!Dust (essentially), belongs to @/liliallowed

Melancholy

Dust-Isabella (from Encanto), belongs to @/jadethetsu

Clutter

Dust!Swap Sans, belongs to me, technically @/ant1quarian

Stardust

Dust!Nebula, belongs to @/dzasterdumpterfire

Warden

Bodyguard!Dust, belongs to @/absurdumsid

Sleuth

Spy!Dust, belongs to @/ksopaz

Snore

Snorlax Dust, belongs to @rushin-safire /silly

Loch

Pirate!Dust, belongs to Me (@/ant1quarian)

Crimson and Ashley

Gender!Swap Dragon-esque AU, belongs to @/liliallowed

Treble

Colour!Dust, belongs to @/dzasterdumpterfire

Speckle

Little!Dust, belongs to @/thelunarsystemwrites

Reform

Ref!Dust, belongs to @/sans-wannabe-wife

Popsicle

Popsicle Dust, belongs to @/liliallowed

Harvest

Dust!Reaper Sans, belongs to @/ant1quarian, inspired and sorta designed by @/pika-pika-blog

Reign

Dust!Controltale Sans, belongs to @/ant1quarian

If I have missed any Dusts, simply comment on this post or mention me elsewhere or send me an ask, and your Dust will be added :]

( Also all tags are on this post )

Credit to every single creator and submitter that added to the Dustverse!

I think that's all I've got so far!

Anyone else who wants to add Dust's can send me an ask or interact with me in DM's, because it'll be open until the story eventually finishes! (will be literal years away-)

If I've got any credits incorrect, please do tell me so that I can fix it!

[rustandruin]

Tom Hardy got to work with a bunch of dogs, ride his motorbike, wear a tuxedo, and write a feature-length film where Venom calls Eddie “the sexiest man,” and they contemplate what it would be like to have a family. He’s living my dream for real.

[askfatherjehova]

Hello everyone!

If you are reading this then you are in fact in the right place. This is Father Jehova, an OC of mine from an AU. I am back in the BATIM and BATDR again. So happy to be back. Down below are my rules:

Rules:

No minors! This is an 18+ blog and I will check for ages in blogs. If you are an ageless blog=blocked.

When sending asks, be polite. Asks are first come and first served.

Only send RP's through asks, it helps me keep them together.

No scat//pee//nasty shit here please. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED

Extra Information:

Full Name: Jehova Lucien

Alias: Father Jehova, “The Black Shepherd,” “Ink Saint,” “The Weeping Devil”

Species: Fallen Angel (turned Demon)

Gender: Male (He/Him)

Apparent Age: ??

Height: 6’6”

Occupation: Former preacher of the Heavenly Choir / Current corrupted high priest of the Ink

Alignment: Lawful Evil (once Lawful Good)

Voice: Deep, solemn, with an echo like a chapel bell cracked by war

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

Hollow black eyes that bleed black tears when he prays.

Pale, cracked skin ink-stained at the veins, resembling aged porcelain fractured from within.

Wears tattered priestly vestments warped by the Ink—his collar blackened...

His wings—once angelic—are now grotesque, skeletal things dipped in black tar and dripping corruption. (not seen in photo)

Always seen with a rusted censer that exhales toxic ink smoke, chained to his right wrist like a shackle. (Not seen in photo)

ABILITIES:

Ink Sermon: His voice can twist minds, compelling Ink creatures to obey, or driving mortals into madness.

Corrupted Benediction: His touch can both heal or harm, depending on his will—and the purity of the soul he touches.

Wings of Ruin: Though twisted, his wings allow for short bursts of flight, especially when chasing prey or fleeing holiness.

Ink Conduit: He can manipulate and solidify ink to create weapons, barriers, or horrific visions.

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

BACKSTORY:

Long ago, before the fall, Jehova Lucien was one of the heavenly host—a gentle angel who tended to lost souls, guiding artists and dreamers toward the divine light. He believed creation was sacred, a language shared with the Divine. Among Heaven’s choirs, he was known for his hymns, filled with sorrow for the fallen and love for the broken.

But Jehova grew obsessed with Earth—specifically, with human creativity. He began to watch them more closely than Heaven allowed. Artists who wept over ruined canvases, musicians who broke under poverty, storytellers forgotten before they were known. He questioned why so many beautiful creators suffered while Heaven remained silent.

Jehova fell not because he hated God, but because he loved humanity too much. He descended without permission, walking among the gifted and the damned, trying to shelter them—but his interference twisted their fates further.

[noinoi10101010]

sams couples therapy part 2

session 1 - ruin x rusted

Me: "holy shit you two have depressing love story."

Ruin: "yeah....not one neither of us wanted."

Me: "well guess what I'm planning multiple dates for you two."

Ruin: "yeah an-....w-what."

Me: "i'll pick the most romantic places possible.

Rusted: "ok look you don't have to-"

Me: "HELL I'LL EVEN PLAN A WEDDING FOR YOU TWO!"

ruin and rusted: *Blushes* "WHAT!"

session 2 - lunar x kerian

Me: "you are a freak

Kerian: "I take that as a compliment " ~

Me: "so what do you love the most about lunar?"

Kerian: "well i.......uuuuummmmmmmmmmmmm"

Me: "damn your an awful boyfriend."

Lunar: "why do you think I left him."

Session 3 - nexus x blue

Me: "blue I have one question what the fuck do you see in him?"

Blue: "oh many things. He is just the sweetest"

Me: "he nearly killed earth moon and sun"

Blue: "he always has a smile on his face."

Me: "judging by the pissed look he is giving me it looks like you forced him him."

Blue: "he always puts others before himself."

Me: "he literally doesn't give a damn about others."

Blue: "he is the most gorgeous person I know"

Me: "he looks ugl-"

Blue: *pulls out shotgun* "DON'T TALK BAD ABOUT MY SWEETIE PIE."

Session 4 - dark sun x killer sun

Me: "judging by the notes I have written down I think I don't feel safe in either of your presence."

Killer sun: "oh don't worry I only kill moons"

Me:".....why is your boyfriend kinda ho-"

Killer sun: *murderous glare* " don't get any ideas"

Session 5 - sunny x roxas

me: "ok nothing bad so far in fact your pretty healthy all thing considered."

Roxus: "well I knew three was nothing to worry about I treat my girl righ-"

Me:"says here you flirted with her sister one time."

Roxus: "💀"

Sunny: "WHAT!"

Session 6 - solar x nebula

Me: so how did you ask her out

Solar: "oh um I just said all I liked about her and that I like being around her and I asked her out. I was completely honest."

Me: "that's it"

Solar: "yeah"

Me: you said yes to that."

Nebula: "I mean it was really sweet and I liked it. Is there a problem."

Me: "the problem is your boyfriend can't flirt for shit."

Solar: "says the person who Simps for my brother"

Me:"..........i'll shut up now."

@catspawcreates @goodolddumbbanana @doodledrawz @lednet-sorrow-au-blog @dolce-cerise @lednet-sorrow-au-blog @multifandomcutie13 @sillyzone1209 @clowny-core @weirdcoregal35

[walkergirlsposts]

https://www.tumblr.com/walkergirlsposts/772523580964667392/httpswwwtumblrcomcarolinagirl807724961819190?source=share

You have all provided great examples refuting that anon's claims, as they should be refuted because that anon is just repeating things from the standard AA/Heller checklist to try and claim that JP/J2 fans are the worstest ever ( with no receipts, of course), but I will share that there was one death threat towards Jensen after Rust. But, what anon either doesn't know (because they don't bother to research the facts behind the claim) or would rather ignore facts, is that the person making that death threat, despite claiming to be a Jared fan, was not followed by any Jared fans, nor did any Jared fans interact or support that person. In addition, as soon as Jared fans saw they threat, they reported the account en masse, and helped get the account deleted.

Now, if anon wants to compare death threats, we can take one (supposedly Jared fan threat) versus the massive litany of threats against Jared, often for no other reason than existing. Some, as recently as four months ago.

https://x.com/Sam_Maddy/status/1828883140825223184

And what happens to those people threatening Jared? Do those accounts get reported by other AAs and/or Hellers? No... they get more likes and reblogs. So that anon can miss me with their fake rage.

As to Jensen's comments about the crew on Rust, yes, he did call them whiny bitches, but it wasn't over coffee and drinks. It was the for multiple reasons including housing, but more importantly about safety concerns, for which they had, unfortunately, as we found out, a legitimated reason. https://thehill.com/blogs/in-the-know/in-the-know/578190-camera-crew-walked-off-job-to-protest-safety-concerns-on-alec/

I mean, just how bad did it have to be to have crew members walk off the set? How often has anon heard of that happening on any other set? i can only imagine how bad it was and Jensen's dismissal of their feelings definitely contradicts all the times he talks in conventions about treating everyone on set well, including the crew. (We also saw how poorly he thought of The Winchester cast when he told them not to F*#^ it up for him, or the fact that they had to work while deathly sick (link no longer available... wonder why), or the fact that one of the crew members almost died from a lightning strike. https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/business/business-news/lightning-strike-winchesters-lawsuit-1235580457/)

If anon would like to debate their claims further, I'm ready for them.

Right, in regards to any death threats towards Jensen, there's always hundreds more directed at Jared. Hell, even with his car accident he had people wishing him to die. When the show ended and he was cast to lead Walker??? Hundreds of death threats because how dare he end the show so they don't get destiel. When he said SPN wasn't about romance?? Again, hundreds of death threats towards him all done by hellers. So anon can spare me the one or two Jensen might get. When he gets hundreds then you can come back to us crying.

And as for why the crew walked off?? It was pretty bad. They cited the reasons as no pay, no accomodations, many had to sleep in their cars, they heard explosions going off sporadically, it was a very unsafe set to work in.

But like I always say. Come at us when Jensen has hundreds of threats and anyone trying to ruin his reputation, then we can talk.

[alexandraisyes]

how much am i aloud to know about the Hunger Games AU :glancescutely:

TEE FUCKING HEE BITCH BUCKLE UP

And y'all this is gonna be so long but this is an AU I've been working on with Turbo for *months*. We love our TSBS hunger games.

So these are the tributes, this is just a sketch obviously

And here are the mentors, they haven't been sketched yet but have heights

And a few important people from the capitol (there will probably be a few more added later on as we work on developing the plot some more).

Each character will have several refs for the different parts of the story.

Information about the tributes. "Group" is the age group for the Games. In this world the age of maturity is 17, and once you are 17 you are considered an adult in the eyes of the law. Teens are between 12-16, Young Adults are 17-21, and just like in the States while they are adults there are a few restrictions on what all they can do, and certain jobs they can't work until they are 22. Adult is 22-29, and really the only difference between Y.Adult and Adult is that there's certain jobs you can't do when you're below 22 because young people aren't expendable like that according to this government. Elder is the last age group for the games, 30-35, and once you've crossed 35 you are no longer applicable for the Games.

(Poleart is supposed to say polearm)

Information about the Mentors. Then vs Now is how old they were when they won their games, and how old they are in the current narrative.

Tributes are selected by one female and one male tribute, in the lists for the tributes it says which group they represent in that aspect too. The government doesn't care what your pronouns are, they just care about if you're AFAB or AMAB because of tradition. The single exception is Harvest, who is lying about being AFAB and he was so vicious at the reaping about being with Blood that they didn't even bother to question it for the sake of their fingers.

We have done entire descriptions for the past arenas, but there's so much that I'm not gonna include here. Maybe in a separate post? Or when I open up a blog specifically for this AU since it's so convoluted. For an example of how long the arena descriptions are it's 5000 words. I will give you the description of the arena design for the one they're in during the story though.

72nd Annual Hunger Games Victor: Theme: **Apocalypse Forest** A post-apocalyptic wilderness where nature has reclaimed the remnants of civilization, turning it into a sprawling forest of tangled vegetation and decaying ruins. Set in the aftermath of a catastrophic event, such as a nuclear war or environmental collapse, this arena presents tributes with a harrowing landscape where survival is a constant struggle against both the elements and the remnants of humanity's downfall. The once-thriving cityscape has been engulfed by dense foliage, with skyscrapers now reduced to crumbling ruins and highways choked with overgrown vegetation. Tributes must navigate through the twisted remnants of urban infrastructure, facing hazards such as collapsed buildings, hidden traps, and radiation hotspots. The forest itself is a tangled maze of towering trees, dense undergrowth, and winding creeks, where tributes must contend with natural hazards such as toxic flora, mutated wildlife, and unpredictable weather patterns. The air is thick with the scent of decay, and the eerie silence is broken only by the distant cries of scavenging creatures and the creaking of rusted metal. Despite the desolation, pockets of life still exist within the forest, including desperate survivors, feral mutants, and rival factions vying for control. Tributes must navigate this hostile environment while also avoiding conflicts with other survivors, scavenging for resources, and deciphering the secrets of the apocalypse that brought about the forest's transformation.

There are ships, but they're not really a huge focus of the story. The main ones are surprise surprise, Blood/Sun/Harvest. If you've read my writing you should have expected this. There are a few background ships as well.

Unlike the uh canon Hunger Games, we're gonna give everyone the chance to talk to each other, hang out etc. Form alliances, friends, and rivalries. Instead of it all happening in three days before the arena, they get a whole month of training and publicity. Some parts of the story may be grueling for that reason, since we really want to give perspectives on all of the tributes. We're probably going to do a two or three-parter fic, before the games. The games. After the games.

We already know who dies, how they die, who lives, and how they live the rest of their lives after the games.

Oh yeah this is a bio-organic AU. Some of the characters are partially mechanical, like most of the celestial-based ones, but the rest are purely organic. The society is a mix of cyborgs, anthropomorphic animals, and humans.

Here's a few snippets of the plot that we have planned.

Sun and Moon are an oddity. Never has there been a set of (actual) siblings in the games before. Moon tried to tell Sun it would be okay when his name was pulled, and made sure to put on a brave face for the sake of Sun. He knew there was a 1/24 chance of him surviving the games. That was a risk he was willing to take. He would come back to Sun. You can only imagine the way his blood ran cold when they then pulled Sun's name and there was nothing he could do about it. He swore to himself he would find a way to get them free so he didn't have to see his little brother die in his arms. When Blood's name was pulled Harvest immediately pitched a fit. Blood had to pull him off of him so he could go up to the stage (and got bit for his futile effort). The second the female tribute was drawn Harvest volunteered for tribute. No one was going to kill his best friend unless it was him, thank you very fucking much. The guards tried to protest since he was coming from the male group, but they backed off after one almost lost a hand to sharp teeth. Ronty and Frank were from the same district but didn't know each other until they were both pulled for the games. Golden, Freddy's mentor, is his father. Freddy has two younger brothers who aren't old enough for the games yet. Foxy and Roxanne both have kids they need to win the games for to get back to. The Creator is the President.

[simplegenius042]

Late OCs as Horror Themes/Tropes, Ships as Tarot Cards, and 15 Lines or Less Tag

Tagged by @nightbloodbix @aceghosts @inafieldofdaisies @voidika @direwombat and @g0dspeeed

Tagging @socially-awkward-skeleton @softtidesworld @strafethesesinners @strangefable @adelaidedrubman @wrathfulrook @corvosattano @cassietrn @derelictheretic @shellibisshe @florbelles @cloudofbutterflies92 @starsandskies @onehornedbeast @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @afarcryfrommymain @megraen @turbo-virgins @minilev @carlosoliveiraa @shallow-gravy @titiagls @thewanderer-000 @snake-in-the-garden @purplehairsecretlair @chazz-anova @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @skoll-sun-eater @yokobai @bitchofedensgate @deputyash @ec-10 @foofygoldfish @gaeadene @henbased @vampireninjabunnies-blog and @trashcatsnark

You can find the OCs as Horror Themes/Tropes quiz here and the Ships as Tarot Cards quiz here. One OC for the first quiz, Two Ships for the second quiz, and three OCs for five lines each for the 15. The results and lines are below the cut:

DISCORD, THE MAD KIN OF CARNAGE (A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore and the Unnamed Original Works Trilogy)

Discord was a second-generation reality bender (or more commonly known as "Kin"), and one of the most devastatingly powerful as well. His very presence was capable of reverting anything and everything around him back to its basic essential form/s (until it became rusted, rotten, and/or dust and eventually nothing at all). Had technically been killed during the Extermination Purge War, however, Arcane Urias' Chapter of the Occult, a group of warlocks, liches and dark magic users that aimed to preserve ancient magic (regardless if it was forbidden or destructive) and bring back the Old Kin (which mostly consist of the extinct first, second and third generations, as well as some fourth) to rule over the Multiverse once again, had found a way to bring back Discord, in a universe where Earth had been ravaged by nuclear war. NOTE: This result kind of describes how Discord's second death more-or-less is like.

THE BAPTIST AND THE QUOKKA [JOHN SEED X NADI SINCLAIR] (Far Cry The Silver Chronicles)

While Nadi and John have this "loyally serving the other while yearning for each others love but beating around the bush due to bad timings and stuff and still caring and possessive of the other to an obsessively unhealthy degree"... I will have to say that Nadi's affection isn't John's only priority; Joseph and his family plus the project is John's focus and is probably what he would choose over Nadi. Nadi though views John as the person who gave her something to believe in again, to put her skill and faith in (especially after losing faith in the military and governments after the events of Call To Arms), so to her, Eden's Gate' faith is personified by John. But if either lose each one another, it will greatly impact the other's life.

HAOYU ANABUKI X ICARUS GALATOS (Life, Despair & Monsters)

Ah yes, another main LGBTQ+ couple I made to add to my collection alongside Sonya and Jennifer. Haoyu (Non-Binary, 25) and Icarus (Male, 23) fit each other well. At first both thought the other was a jerk. However, both got to know each other, related about their experiences with distant, long-lost and/or found family (Haoyu with their father, mother and Monika plus the Literature Club, and Icarus with his parents, siblings, alters and the Dupain-Cheng Family), coming to terms with their personal lives (Haoyu with their ability to open portals and travel through reality breaches, and Icarus plus his alters with the ability to switch dimensions with this magic fungus dude named Hatter whom one of the alters had eaten inadvertently on a dare), as well as near-death experiences (Haoyu with the Ruins of the Midnight Rise, and Icarus with Evermond Scowlzka trying to dissect him and his alters to get Hatter) plus their encounters with Sir Enigma Malvolio (Haoyu is Malvolio's foil and therefore targeted as a rival, and Icarus, while never meeting Malvolio until much later, had seen the aftereffects of Malvolio putting the essence of the Court King into a close friend of his, Marinette Dupain-Cheng). They also manage to work through each other's flaws; Icarus was reserved and arrogant but self-sacrificing (hence the requirement for his alters, Hatsukami Hinode and Xavier Tulip), and Haoyu was bold and selfish yet unambitious. Icarus teaches Haoyu how to be driven, pointing them towards a goal beneficial to not only them, but everyone, while Haoyu taught Icarus how to listen and take care of himself more, as well as be open-minded. Wherever they end up after the fight with the Ruins of the Midnight Rise, know that they're both at least together.

15 LINES, 5 EACH FOR 3 OCS IN THE UNTITLEDVERSE

Calvin Darling (The Perfect Storm saga)

"Ah, back in this shit again?" He grumbles, getting up.

"Haven't you learned by now? "Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before the fall"," Calvin quoted, "Try to checkmate that, you pompous dick."

"I need a drink," Calvin pauses, reminding himself of another task, "But first I shall pray."

"Mario! I'm a cartoonist, not a mechanic."

"...I'm simultaneously impressed by how smart you can be but also disappointed in how stupid you are."

Rick Thompson (The Omniscience Rule saga and The Ender saga)

6. "I don't remember hunting down clowns to be part of the initiative...?" 7. "My dream came true Ma... I am IN a Musical." 8. "Ms Darling, if I may compliment outside of regulations, you're stunning beauty is increased tenfold by the stellar addition of grime and demons blood." 9. "I may be an agent, but I'm no where near professional." 10. "Ian Graveheart is the kind of man Pa described as the worst combination you can give a loaded weapon without safety on... legs and batshit insanity."

Urijah Calaghan (The UnTitled Stories (from The Omniscience Rule saga) and The UnTitled Ventures saga)

11. "You don't matter. Nothing matters. Nothing except this mission." 12. "How cruel are our lives where we must live out a path hostile to our treading feet as the unknown entities above and beyond mock and degrade us? And what fate awaits us then? Release? Freedom? Death? A second round for your soul to enter the world again and go right back into the cosmic mechanism that grinds us down again and again and again like a broken carousel? Or a decrepit record stuck spinning on the same tune? But that's only if you're lucky enough to die." 13. "My mission is to release us, painlessly and mercifully, from the one who holds onto us; the Hand at Fate's Table, one abhorrently callous and cruel enough to take pleasure in the suffering he puts us through." 14. "You must find this tiring. For a man to commit himself against an endless stream of challenges for what is ultimately a short speck of time in our universes must come at a great unnecessary cost to your body. Do you not wish to rest, Joaquin? Wouldn't it be best to live the final minutes of your life resting? Taking a moment to hold your family one last time before our Peace?" Urijah softly questioned. 15. "That doesn't matter," Urijah softly breathes out with a smile, hot air colliding against the cold breeze as the countdown reaches its conclusion.

[thrasherartist]

I am proper mad!!! Those swifties, only now they acknowledge the story matty and taylor had since freaking 2014!!

"Omg so the [insert song here] is actually about matty healy?"— average swiftie.

"Omg so we ruined it for them?"

"Omg so she was in love, love?"

Yes!!! We been telling you since 2014!! We been telling you last year!! And you blocked maylor fans like rabid dogs, and now I see theories, the same theories we blogged on twitter and tumblr, and tiktok, surfacing.

A big f to the crazy taylor swift fans, who started a freaking petion a year ago!!! That is CRAZY.

It is been months and I am not forgiving you. Ever.

Looked up at the sky and it was

The lips I used to call home, so scarlet, it was maroon

The burgundy on my T-shirt when you splashed your wine into me

And I chose you

In New York, no shoes

The one I was dancin' with

And how the blood rushed into my cheeks, so scarlet, it was

The mark you saw on my collarbone, the rust that grew between telephones

I hoped you'd return

With your feet on the ground

Tell me all that you'd learned

Cause love's never lost when perspective is earned

And you said you'd come and get me but you were 25

And the shelf life of those fantasies has expired

Lost to the lost boys chapter of your life

Forgive me Peter, please know that I tried

To hold onto the days when you were mine

But the woman who sits by the window has turned out the light.

I know a place

It's somewhere I go when I need to remember your face

We get married in our heads

Something to do while we try to recall how we met

Do you think I have forgotten?

Do you think I have forgotten?

Do you think I have forgotten

About you?