#so that my posts are easier to look through

[whumperless-whump-event]

WHUMPERLESS WHUMP EVENT 2025

Welcome back to the Whumperless Whump Event of July, where we celebrate the situational and environmental side of our community via beating the shit out of our blorbos!

FAQ and plain text prompts under the cut!

Frequently Asked Questions

Q: How are the prompts divided?

Q: Where can I find the prompts list?

A: @whumperless-whump-event on Tumblr.

A: The title is a “theme” for the day, followed by two tropes and a dialog prompt.

A: Absolutely.

Q: Can I use the title as a prompt?

A: Not at all.

Q: Do I have to use all of the prompts?

Q: Can I use all of the prompts?

A: Absolutely. If it's fun, go for it--don't feel pressured to finish them all, but do follow what's inspiring you.

Q: If I'm writing a chronological story, can I swap the days to make it fit the timeline?

A: Yes. Just make sure you tag each piece with the prompt and day you're filling.

Q: Can I have early or late entries?

A: Yes. Early and late entries will not be reblogged to the event account, though.

Q: Is there an Ao3 collection?

A: Yes! This year's collection can be found here, or through searching whumperless_whump_event_july2025. Please remember to submit this year's prompts to the 2025 collection and NOT the 2024 one!

Q: Can I write NSFW?

A: You absolutely can, but the event blog will not reblog any prompt fill rated Explicit. Please ensure you tag NSFW appropriately.

Q: Can I use AI?

A: No.

Q: Can a whumper be included in the prompt fill?

A: The short answer is no. The long answer is that you cannot have the role of whumper in your prompt fill (aka: no whumper-on-whumpee); however, if the character you want to be a whumpee or a caretaker happens to be a whumper, then as long as they are not fulfilling the role of whumper, it's fine. Also, if there is a whumper, it must be totally impersonal and faceless. Here are some examples for clarification:

A character's drink is spiked at a party. OKAY: The whumper who spiked the drink is never mentioned and is completely faceless, and the story is directly about whumpee recovering. NOT WHUMPERLESS: The whumper who spiked the drink kidnaps the whumpee. A character is left alone in a storm. OKAY: The character is stranded or lost. NOT WHUMPERLESS: Whumper tied them to a post and left them in the storm. A character is mugged on the street. OKAY: The whumper is a stranger, faceless, and the focus is on Whumpee. NOT WHUMPERLESS: The whumper is a stalker and there to kidnap Whumpee.

All in all, if your goal is to fulfill the event, then try to avoid a whumper. If you're using the prompts elsewhere, then ignore this; but in the spirit of the event, no whumper roles please.

Q: How do I tag my posts?

A: Tag with #whumperless whump event, #wwevent 2025 and #wwevent day [x](Don't just tag wwe, that's wresting.) Then, tag triggers and content warnings. Please put these first in the tag order! It just makes it easier to reblog.

Q: How do I get reblogged?

A: Mention this blog in your post! It's the easiest way for me to find you. Otherwise, I won't reblog it. (This also means if you do not want your post reblogged to the event, just don't mention the blog, and it'll stay private.)

I think that's about it. That's a lot, so if you've got any questions, feel free to shoot me an ask. I'm happy to help!

PROMPTS:

INSULT TO INJURY: Infected wounds / Hurt and ill / “Fate really has it out for you, huh.”

PUBLIC MISINFORMATION: Presumed dead / Search party / “There's a hand, I can see them!”

IT'S NOT YOU, IT'S ME: Left behind / Attempted Martyr / “Get out while you can, and don't look back.”

LIKE A KALEIDOSCOPE: Numbness / Dissociation / “Can I hold your hand?”

AT LEAST IT'S NOT MANUAL: Trapped in a car / Stranded / “You can't drive like this.”

DOOMED BY THE NARRATIVE: Scheduled execution / Near death experience / “That was too close.”

AHOY THERE MATEYS: Motion sickness / Washed ashore / “I hate the ocean.”

CHEF MIS-STEAK: Hot stove / Slip of the knife / “I swear, I'm usually better at this.”

SCHEDULE YOUR MAINTENANCE: Lack of self care / Sick day / “Just take a nap. I can handle the rest.”

BOOM, CLAP: Gunshots / Sound sensitive / “Shut up, please.”

CAN'T STOP WON'T STOP: Overworking / No time to rest / “We're not safe yet.”

HOW DID WE GET HERE: Isekai'd / Evacuation / “This is not a good place to be.”

A GOOD OLD FASHIONED BEATDOWN: Training mistake / Accidentally hurting someone / “…Let's take a break.”

RIPPED THE RUG FROM UNDER YOU: Despair / Clinging on for dear life / “Please don't leave.”

GET BEHIND ME: Using their body as a shield / Full team whump / “You're such an idiot!”

KNOCK ME OFF OF MY FEET: Collapsing in public / Dizzy / “Woah, there, you good?”

SEEING RED: Bloody nose / Coughing up blood / “Good lord, is all that yours?!”

BREAKING NEWS: Storm Shelters / Huddling for warmth / “It'll be over soon.”

IRRESISTABLE: Venomous snake bite / Spiders / “Man, these bugs really just love you, don't they.”

GOT THE SNIFFLES: Seasonal allergies / Can't stop coughing / “Bring tissues next time.”

FEAR IS THE MIND KILLER: Phobias / Uncontrollable shaking / “I gotta do this. I have to.”

HUG TIME: Touch starved / Comfort / “You're safe. I promise, you're safe.”

RECOVERY PERIOD: Tending to past injuries / Bruises / “Alright. Lecture me before you pop a blood vessel.”

IT WAS ALWAYS BURNING: Wide-scale fire / Third degree burns / “You'll only make things worse if you keep doing that.”

IT'S JUST SPRINKLING: Stuck outside during a storm / Natural disasters / “We should not be out here right now.”

CAUGHT IN THE CROSSFIRE: Flying debris / Pinned / “We gotta get you out of here.”

ONLY WAY OUT IS THROUGH: Withdrawal / Hangover / “You'll get through this.”

TAKE A WALK (LITERALLY): Hiking mishap / Heatstroke or heat exhaustion / “Can we take a break?”

TAKE A WALK (FIGURATIVELY): Snapping under pressure / Lashing out / “You wanna say that again?”

MIND THE STRINGS: Mind control / Psychic mishap / “Come back to yourself, please!"

ONE WRONG STEP: Caught in a trap / Impaled / “If we remove it, you'll bleed out in seconds.”

ALTERNATES:

THE CLOCK IS TICKING: Losing track of time / Long term coma / “Was I… dreaming?”

IMPROVISED SOLUTIONS: Field medicine / Makeshift gurney / “It's all we have, I'm sorry.”

HARD KNOCK LIFE: Severe concussion / Clumsiness / "Sorry… who are you again?"

UNDER PRESSURE: Can't stop the bleeding / Disrupted healing factor / "Why isn't it working?!"

WHO'S YOUR EMERGENCY CONTACT: Workplace mishap / Distress call / "Talk to me."

SHENANIGANS AFOOT: Time loops / Body swap / "You're scaring me."

A RIVER IN EGYPT: Working through injury / Recovery / "I'm fine. I'm fine."

[gin-juice-tonic]

Something about this website I do not see talked about among new users often is viewing your blog's archive. If you're on a real blog, there's usually a button for it.

If you're on the dashboard view of a blog, it's under the meatballs menu

Your archive allows you to see all the posts on your (or someone else's) blog, both from you and one's youve reblogged, in a more compact form.

Here is a picture of what my archive looks like:

The web address for your own archive is [blogname].tumblr.com/archive

The posts show up as these little previews, when you click them it takes you to the actual post on your blog.

You will notice there are buttons for "month", "post type", and "tag".

These allow you to sort your posts and potentially help you find specific posts you may be looking for more easily.

If you are someone who uses tagging to keep your blog organized, this feature is very useful for making those tags easier to browse quickly. Especially if you are a writer, artist, gif-maker, or have anything else you want people to find and share.

Another quick way to get to the archive for a specific tag is to use [blogname].tumblr.com/archive/tagged/[tag]

(for example, my archive filtered to my art tag is https://gin-juice-tonic.tumblr.com/archive/tagged/pbbth)

If you're someone who spends a lot of time rummaging through your own tags or other people's to look for posts, I would very much recommend either using the archive if you already have access to it or setting up your blog so that you can access it if you don't.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 29

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The grey sky stretches on and on. The winter kingdom is unending. So vast you are certain it is a whole other world on its own.  

You slump in your saddle, chattering, shivering, bones aching, muscles taut, fingers numb. Even with the furs, even with hands and feet wrapped thrice over, you are frigid to your core. Bryce has both reins in hand as you have only the strength to straddle Roach. You cling to the pommel of the saddle as it's the only thing you can do.  

The tip of your nose is frozen despite the scarf shielding you from winter's breath, your own freezing in the weave of the fabric. The man with his beard fares better in his leather and furs, as if he isn't bother by the matting of flakes around his chin or in his brows. You are a summer's maid after all. You are not fashioned for these bitter lands. For as long as you've traveled, that's become clear as the absent sunlight.  

A croaky, strafing cough rises from you, rattling your chest. Each breath is like needles in your throat. Bryce draws Roach closer as if to shield you with his body.  

"There it is, on the horizon," he grits. "The heart of Winter. Stone Hull." 

You look ahead, snowflakes catching in your lashes. You shiver and let out another hoarse bark. You sink down and nod. You can only see a heap of snow. 

“We’re close. We will be there by nightfall. You will sleep warmly.” He yells through the wailing winds. “A mulled cider to warm your bones. Stew of elk. The meat is hearty and will put some back on you.” 

You nod and sway as he guides Roach. You are weak. You feel as if you’ve been asleep for days, though consciousness has been painfully clear. 

At times, when your mind is not bound by the ailments of your body,  it wanders beyond the snowy plains and craggy passes. You wonder how you've come so far. Why? Why should you be here in the Winter Kingdom? Why should the king favour you so that you much suffer the snow and the shame? That gloom only adds to the wither of your will.

You groan as Bryce touches your sleeve. Your eyes drag over to him, drooping as you fight away fatigue. He gives a hum.

"Poor thing. Once you have walls, you will not feel so ravaged," he avows.

You dip your head. Once you have walls, you are well and truly trapped. He keeps his grip on the reins as he clucks at the horses. They push their legs through the deepening blankets of powder. You watch the flakes gather in Roach's mane. You close your eyes and shudder.

You sink into the daze. The gales whistle as a tunnel forms around you. The breath of the horses, the grunts of your escort, and your own willowy whimpers dissipate into the furor. It is only the sudden horror that breaks through the desolate trance of your ague.

Bryce shouts again and fumbles for the horn across his chest. He blows as he stares up. You follow his gaze. Your eyes scale the impossibly high wall, the mortar white with snow. It is so tall it seems to touch the sky.

"Who goes?" A voice calls from a slit in the wall, made obvious only by the point of an arrow.

Bryce laughs before he answers. "It is I. The king's mule. Bryce."

"The king? I see only two and the creature beside you is much too small." The wind nearly drowns the guard out.

"He is back. With the people. I am sent ahead, as his dutiful servant. Lazeer, you know me. I cut the spearhead out of your shoulder before it could fester."

"Aye, and you kissed my sister," the guard snorts.

"So you do know me?" Bryce preens.

"Wait." The voice calls and there is a clatter, the arrow's tip disappears.

"Never fear, mouse. We're home."

You chatter and lump in the saddle. Any further and you think you would fall from it. You tremble and wait. When the door lurches inward, appearing from amid the snow-trimmed wall, you wince.

You jostle in the saddle as the man called Lazeer brings you within. Guards turn the cogs to close the doors as Bryce slips down and comes around to ease you to your feet. You cling to him and press your face into his damp cloak. You cannot stand.

"Please, sir... I am very weak."

"Hush, mouse. You will be well. Cuppa cider, like I said." He bends and scoops you up in his arms. "Laz, the king will be some weeks out. A fortnight at best."

"And he sent you ahead... for what precisely?" The other man challenges.

"We've a new queen. New brethren. We must prepare to welcome them."

"Mm, yes, the summer folk. Delicate things?"

"She is strong in her way," Bryce rebuffs. "Gather those counselors left here. We must convene on the morrow. I'll have some mead left in your chamber."

"Mead and mutton," the man insists.

"Aye, as you'll have it."

You close your eyes and shiver as Bryce turns sharply. The world is tilting this way and that in your vision. You hear Roach snorting angrily as the stablers try to lead her away.

The motion of Bryce's gait is both soothing and disorienting. You peek between your eyelids and see stone walls; a tapestry; a fur rug; a flickering torch. Each time you look, it is something new.

Hinges creak loudly and the air thickens with warmth. You smell a fire. You are laid on something soft. You open your eyes and stare at the heavy canopy draped from the high posts of the bed. Bryce puts a knee on the mattress and unclasps your cloak.

"I must get this off. It is frozen through."

You cough. He eases the cloak from beneath you and you notice how the tails are frozen solid. He hangs it close to the hearth. You stare at the amber flames and reach out weakly.

Bryce puts his large hand to your forehead then curls his fingers and feels your cheek. He sighs. He pets your neck as another rattling cough rises from you.

"Mouse, you will be well. Only rest. Yes. Rest and something warm."

Warm... warm! His hands are like fire on your skin. As he tries to pull away, you catch his wrist. "Please, sir..."

"Shh, lady, I promise, I will not leave you long. I only go to seek help. You must have something to sup on. It will hearten you against the weariness of the road," he coaxes and strokes your knuckles. "Not so long at all."

"Please, I..." your eyes are glassy and dull. You don't feel right. "I think I am dying."

"You... are not," he insists. "I only go to call a servant. I will not be far beyond that door."

"It is death. I sense it in my bones. I hear my mama calling to me." You snivel as your panic swells. Your head lolls as visions of the forest rise before you. Running, heaving, hiding. Your parents falling to the grass. You were sitting between them when sir Dustan's men took you away. "Mama, papa..."

"Shh, sweet maid," Bryce cooes. "You will be well again. I swear to you."

⚔️

A warmth spreads over your forehead. You flick your eyes open as the ghastly silhouette looms over you. The fog slowly dissipates enough to make out Bryce's steely hair and coarse features. With them comes all the he's dragged you through; the queen, the king, the long journey to Stone Hull. The summer kingdom fades into your memory, forgotten with all left behind there.

"Sir," you eke out as he presses the hot cloth to your face.

"Aye, there you are, mouse," he growls.

You stare at him. His eyes are shadowed with fatigue, his hair is askew, and he does not wear his mail. You sniff and it brings forth a haggard cough.

He hushes you as the rattling quiets. You suck in a scalding breath. You clumsily lift your hand and touch his sleeve.

"Let me go, sir. It would be better..." you murmur.

"Better? No. Do not bid such dire ends," he reproaches. "My heart would be shattered.

You groan and let your hand fall. "What day is it? How long..." your voice drifts off and your eyes close.

"A week, mouse..." his timbre follows you back into the void.

When you rouse again, Bryce remains. He sits in a chair with a high back and high arms. His head lolls as he snores, his limbs draped around the wooden frame. You hack out a cough and roll onto your side. It doesn't relent until you spit up a glob of thick phlegm. You spew it into the corner of the sheet. It's nasty but you cannot leave the bed.

You recede back into the depths and wake again as the room shifts. Bryce leans you back against the stacked pillows. You shake as you cough violently. He brings a bowl under your mouth. You spit into it.

"Good mouse," he drawls. "Be rid of the sickness."

Your head is not so heavy. It pounds but only dully. You lean back into the downy pile and look around the chamber. You stare at the fur rug before the fire. It was taken from a great beast.

You focus on the soldier. He is weary. He sits on the edge of the bed.

"Bryce. Sir," you say. He flinches.

"Oh, you're awake still."

"I am," you affirm. "Sir, this is your home?"

"Not my chambers, but a spare one," he answers as he wrings his thick hands. "It'll do. A nice fire, a cozy bed..."

"Sir," your voice scrapes dryly. "You need sleep."

"Eh, I've had it. Closed my eyes not long ago."

"Not long enough. I see it."

He scoffs and shakes his head. His shoulders droop as he clasps his hands loosely, leaning on his thighs.

"You worry for me? Foolish mouse. That is your fault. You care too much for all but yourself." He hangs his head and holds it in his hands. "And I, the fool, has delivered you as bid. Selfish, I am. Selfish I remain. So do not fear for me... I fear enough for myself and in doing so, I've greatly hurt you. I've... I've..." He folds over his lap. "Rest, mouse. Rest. Let this old soldier wallow in his sins."

Your eyes sting as you watch him. Sir Bryce is the strongest man you've known. Even stronger to you than the king.

You slip your hands out from beneath the layers of wool and you press them flat. You sit up shakily, using all your effort to do so. Your hand trembles as you reach for him. You touch his shoulder.

"I was angry, sir." You rub his arm as he winces. "Perhaps, I still am but... I know the truth." He stiffly turns his head, looking at you from and angle as he keeps his head low. "The king will have as he desires. Whether it is you... who gives it or..."

You flop back and clutch your chest. You spasm in a fit of coughs. Bryce moves to clasp one of your hands in his and tucks his other behind you. He draws you forward and slaps your back. A mouthful of phlegm flies out of your mouth and onto the blankets. You heave in a deep breath and he rubs your back softly.

You groan and lean into the soldier.

"Sir, I am not mad. I am afraid. And I will need a friend," you bring his hand to your stomach and squeeze it tight. "You are my friend, are you not?"

"Oh girl, I am your dog. I am entirely devoted to you," he curls his arm around you and rocks you.

⚔️

You lurch awake as the door slams. The force of it shakes the stones set into the walls. The canopy is drawn shut around you, hot stones tucked beneath the blankets to pen in the warmth. You gasp and press your palms to your neck as heavy footsteps stomp across the chamber.

"My king," Bryce's groggy voice scratches in the night. "You've arrived."

"So I have," King Geralt's grit scrapes your ears. "She is here."

"Your Highness, she sleeps. She is recovering."

"Recovering? She is unwell?"

"She does better now, but she requires sleep."

A sonorous breath puffs in the air. The fire crackles and its light flickers between the canopy's edges.

"How poorly?" The king asks.

"You know these winters. The summer kind, they are not made for it," Bryce explains gently. "How about your queen? How does she fare the winds?"

"My queen? Don't you utter her name." The king snarls. "Curses. She is my wife but she will wear no crown until I have an heir. That is what a queen can do for me."

"My king, forgive me. I only... the roads are not easy. I inquire as to your own health. To that of your people, old and new."

"My people. My..." The king growls. "Much has occurred. Very much indeed."

A shadow darkens the space between the canopy. The curtains are drawn back as Bryce grunts. The king's burly figure is limned in the firelight at his back.

He sits and the mattress jostles from his weight. You blink as he reaches for your hand. "My summer maid. You are awake. You sensed me, didn't you?" His tone is softer. Before, it was salt and steel. Now it is as velvet. He brings your knuckles to his lips. "How I missed you sorely. How I dreamt of you." He looks back, "A lamp, sir."

Bryce returns a dutiful "aye" and lights a lamp, moving it closer to shine upon you. You lower your lashes at the glow. The king cradles your chin and tilts your face up.

"Oh, my summer maid. My beloved," his thumb strokes your cheek. "You are... oh, my heart. To see you as this. So delicate, so frail."

You stifle as cough and touch his sleeve, "my king, I am better by the day."

"You..." his mouth falls open. "Oh, your voice..." He lets you go and takes your hand instead. He brings it to his cheek and leans into your touch. He has a beard. As thick and white as the hair on his head. "I hear how the winter has ravaged you but you are strong. You survive. For us." He kisses your hand again. He clings to it and turns to face the soldier. "You were to keep her safe."

"Eh? She's safe."

"She is... barely," the king accuses.

"No, no, you know better. You know how the ague carries on the winds. You will not say this is me--"

"My king," you croak and tug on his hand, though it is a pathetic attempt to move such a man. He flinches and looks at you. "Sir Bryce fended off the wolves and the foxes. He saw me here. He saw me to this place... he has kept me warm and he has healed me." You put your other hand on his. You haven't the strength to make him do as you will, so you can only use what you have. Your kindness. "He brought me home, didn't he?"

The king's expression eases, "yes, treasure." He moves closer and leans his forehead against yours. "We are home."

[yuujispunches]

The power of echoes and nostalgia ~ S.G

Pairing: Suguru Geto x Reader.

Summary: a high-school reunion can make old feelings and memories resurface, specially when you’re met with your former best friend and first love.

CW (content warning): modern!AU (no curses), Geto is still Geto, none of the bad stuff really happened, maybe some cursing and nothing much really this is mainly fluff and nostalgia.

AN: Hi guys! Thank you so much for all of your support, I love reading your comments and reblogs 🤍 A reminder that English isn’t my first language so I’m sorry if there are any mistakes. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! :)

Requests are open so feel free to send yours! (you can check the list of characters I write for on my pinned post)

Masterlist

You stared at the email for the third time that morning.

Subject: Jujutsu High Alumni Reunion - 10 Years Later

From: shoko.ieiri@alumni.jhs.ac.jp

The school logo looked almost cartoonish now. In high school, it had felt iconic and unshakable. Now it just looked like someone with graphic design ambitions in Microsoft Word.

You hovered your mouse over the RSVP button. It had been ten years. Ten. You had stopped counting after the first four, and the distance from those years became easier to manage that way. Nostalgia was always dangerous territory, and you weren’t entirely convinced you were ready to revisit the part of your life that included stress dreams about Gojo throwing pencils at your head in chemistry class.

Still…

Shoko had included a little note at the end.

Y/N, you better come. I’ve already had to bribe Gojo with sushi to behave, and if I’m dealing with him alone, I swear I’ll fake my own death. -Shoko

You cracked a smile. She still knew you too well

Click.

——————————————————————————

The reunion was set at a moderately fancy venue in Tokyo, one of those “repurposed industrial spaces” that looked like an Instagram ad and charged too much for a glass of wine. The concrete pillars had fairy lights wrapped around them. It was kind of charming, in a try-hard kind of way.

You walked in, already spotting several familiar faces. Most had changed in subtle ways: softer features, more carefully maintained fashion, slightly hunched posture from a decade of adulting. Yet, it was comforting. The recognition came easily, like muscle memory.

“Y/N!”

You turned and caught sight of Shoko in a sleek black blazer, a glass of whiskey already in her hand.

“You came!” She grinned, sweeping you into a one-armed hug. “I knew the guilt-trip would work.”

You hugged her back, laughing. “You still use the same manipulation tactics. I see med school didn’t change you.”

“Why fix what works?” She replied with mock sincerity. “Come on. Let’s mingle. There are a lot of people here I can’t handle sober, so I need a buffer.”

You were barely halfway to the bar when a loud voice rang through the crowd.

“Y/N! My favorite chaos gremlin!” Another voice you recognised immediately.

Gojo Satoru. Still tall. Still smug. Still wearing sunglasses indoors like he was allergic to social norms.

He strode toward you, arms open like he’d just won a Nobel Prize.

“I see some things never change.” You said, accepting the hug.

“Oh please.” Gojo said, pulling back with a grin. “I’ve matured. Evolved. I even read a book this year.”

“Was it a manga?” Shoko asked flatly.

“You wound me.”

The three of you settled near a high table, laughter bubbling as the drinks arrived. You hadn’t realized how much you missed this. The weirdly dysfunctional balance of personalities that made your high school years oddly enjoyable. Gojo, for all his eccentricities, brought an energy that made everything chaotic in the best way. Shoko was the grounding force, dry and observant and always five steps ahead.

It wasn’t long before more familiar faces drifted over. Nanami, Utahime, Haibara, Mei Mei and even Yaga himself, now sporting glasses that made him look like an academic mob boss. The nostalgia hit full force as you exchanged stories and awkward “oh my god, remember when…” moments.

And yet, one face hadn’t appeared.

Suguru Geto.

You hadn’t dared to ask.

The last time you saw him was at graduation. You were close, closer than most at least, but after high school, life just… peeled you apart. It wasn’t an argument or falling out. It was a slow unraveling of texts left unanswered, calls not returned, and two people with growing silences between them.

You couldn’t explain why that hurt more than a fight would’ve.

And still, you thought about him sometimes. In the way people remember songs from their teenage years. Bittersweet and resonant. Like an echo.

You took a sip of wine and turned slightly, your eyes scanning the room again only to freeze.

He was here.

Suguru stood near the far end of the room, talking to Nanami and Utahime. His hair was still long, tied back into a neat bun. He was dressed neatly, if a little more casually than most. He looked, older. Wiser. But somehow still so painfully familiar.

As if sensing your stare, his eyes flicked toward you and you locked eyes. Your breath caught.

He looked surprised. And then he smiled. That same, quiet smile you remembered from countless late-night conversations in your dorm common room.

Shoko leaned in, her voice low. “You should go say hi.”

“What if it’s weird?” You muttered.

“It will be.” She said. “But also, cathartic. Go.”

——————————————————————————

You walked slowly, trying not to look as awkward as you felt. Suguru turned fully to face you, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable but not unkind.

“Hey.” You said, halting a few steps in front of him.

“Hey.” He echoed. His voice hadn’t changed. Still warm, a little deep. “I was hoping you’d be here.”

You blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Kind of… didn’t know if you’d show. But here you are.”

You smiled nervously. “Here I am.”

A beat passed. Then, suddenly, you both laughed. And just like that it was like no time had passed at all.

“Do you want to get some air?” Suguru asked, tilting his head toward the terrace.

You nodded.

——————————————————————————

The terrace was quiet, away from the buzz of the reunion. A few potted plants and overhead lights made it feel more comfortable than expected.

For a while, you both stood there, leaning against the railing in companionable silence.

“You look good.” He said suddenly.

You turned your head toward him. “So do you.”

He smiled again, softer this time. “Ten years. That’s wild, huh?”

“Yeah. I feel like I just blinked.”

“Remember how we swore we’d be adults with our lives together by 25?”

You snorted. “I think we were high on vending machine snacks.”

He laughed. “Probably.”

A moment passed. There was a moment of silence, but not the awkward kind just a bit heavy with the weight of the time apart and the unsaid words hanging in there.

“Why’d we stop talking?” You asked quietly, the question slipping out before you could second-guess it.

Suguru’s expression shifted, his smile fading into something more thoughtful.

“I don’t know.” He said after a long pause. “I think… we both just got busy. I kept meaning to text. Then too much time passed. And I wasn’t sure if I should. Whether you’d want to hear from me.”

You looked down. “I thought the same thing.”

He nodded slowly. “I regretted it, you know. Letting it drift like that.”

You looked at him, your heart twisting in your chest. “Me too.”

Another silence. But this time, it wasn’t heavy. It was shared. Understood.

Suguru turned slightly, his arm brushing yours. “Do you want to… start over?”

You blinked. “Start over?”

“I don’t know.” He said, a little sheepish. “Rebuild. Reconnect. Or just… catch up properly.”

You gave him a slow smile. “I’d like that.”

“Cool.” He breathed out, visibly relieved. “Maybe… coffee next week? I know a place that still sells those criminally sweet matcha buns you used to like.”

You laughed, warmth spreading through your chest. “You remembered?”

He grinned. “I never forgot.”

——————————————————————————

One week later you met again.

The café was nestled in a quiet corner of Tokyo, one of those cozy spots that looked like it had been around forever, with hand-written chalk signs and mismatched chairs. You spotted Suguru already sitting by the window, a matcha bun and two drinks on the table.

He looked up as you entered, smiling immediately.

“You remembered.” You said, sliding into the seat across from him.

“Told you I didn’t forget.” He replied, nudging your cup toward you. “Still take it with soy milk?”

Your brows rose. “You seriously remember how I take my drink after ten years?”

He shrugged with mock arrogance. “I’m excellent at retaining the important things.”

You smiled, touched.

The next hour passed easily, not that it was that surprising really. Conversation flowed as if no time had passed. You updated each other on work, mutual friends, embarrassing adult milestones like taxes and failed IKEA furniture. Suguru talked about his job as a high school guidance counselor, which both amused and fascinated you.

“Wait- you give life advice to hormonal teenagers?” You teased.

“Hey!” He exclaimed, feigning offense. “I’m surprisingly good at it. I even made one kid cry in a good way. Personal best.”

You snorted into your latte. “This is incredible. I need a photo of you sitting backwards in a chair giving heartfelt advice like a cool uncle.”

“You joke, but I absolutely do the backwards-chair thing.” He said, deadpan.

The laughter faded into a more comfortable silence. You found yourself studying his face, his eyes crinkling when he smiled, the way his fingers absentmindedly tapped the cup. He felt familiar. He felt like home.

“Hey.” He said after a pause. “Want to do something dumb?”

You blinked. “Like?”

“Like...ditch our grown-up responsibilities for a few hours and go do something stupidly nostalgic.”

“Are you asking me to relive our teenage years with less stamina and worse joints?”

“Exactly.”

You grinned. “I’m in.”

——————————————————————————

First stop: the arcade.

You hadn’t stepped into one in years. The moment you walked in, you were assaulted with neon lights, electronic beeping, and the aggressive sound of buttons being mashed.

Suguru immediately dragged you to the air hockey table.

“You always cheated.” You accused.

“I played creatively.” He replied, grabbing a mallet.

It was like reliving a piece of your youth. Shouting, laughing, trash-talking over each slap of the puck. He won the first game. You dominated the second. Somewhere in between, a group of middle-schoolers started cheering for you both, though they rooted more for you after Suguru accidentally launched the puck across the room.

——————————————————————————

Second stop: purikura.

“I refuse to make a duck face.” He said firmly as you dragged him into the photo booth.

“You absolutely will.” You replied. “It’s tradition.”

The photos came out gloriously chaotic. One with you both making peace signs, one mid-laugh, one where Suguru looked halfway to a sneeze. You stuffed the strip in your bag with a grin.

Then came a walk through the old neighborhood, past the convenience store that sold cheap fried chicken, the playground you used to sneak into at night, the vending machine that Gojo once got his arm stuck in trying to “liberate a stuck soda.”

You ended up sitting on the swings, dusk falling around you, colors fading into soft hues.

Suguru looked over at you. “I’ve missed this.”

You swung gently, toes dragging in the dirt. “Me too.”

He turned toward you slightly. “You know, I thought about calling you so many times over the years.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He was quiet for a second. “Because I wasn’t sure if I had the right anymore.”

Your heart tightened.

“I always wondered if you moved on. If you forgot.”

You shook your head. “I never did.”

He stood up slowly, walking over to stand in front of you, hands in his coat pockets.

“I don’t want to wonder anymore.” He said. “I want to know. I want to see if there’s still something here.”

You stared up at him, heart pounding.

“There is.” You said softly. “There always was.”

And he smiled that soft, familiar smile and reached for your hand.

——————————————————————————

You didn’t exactly tell anyone about seeing Suguru again. Which meant, obviously, that Gojo found out in under 48 hours.

Your phone buzzed during work. New messages from Gojo:

[1 image attachment: A badly photoshopped image of you and Suguru in wedding attire]

Just wanted to say congrats on the engagement

I’ll be your flower girl 🥰

You shook your head as you typed the answer:

Gojo. We’ve literally had one coffee and a matcha bun.

Gojo’s reply came almost instantly:

The bun was a metaphor. For eternal love. Duh.

Later, Shoko sent a text that read simply:

You and Suguru, huh?

Don’t mess it up. He’s good for you.

Also Gojo is planning a karaoke date. RUN.

You groaned. “We need new friends.”

Suguru, reading over your shoulder, just chuckled. “No we don’t. We need less chatty ones.”

——————————————————————————

You and Suguru didn’t define it immediately.

There were more coffees. Walks. Movie nights where you fell asleep on his shoulder. Moments where your fingers brushed and didn’t move away. Comfortable silences and subtle smiles.

You learned the tiny ways he’d changed: he liked herbal tea now, had gotten into gardening during lockdown, and hated how slow his metabolism had become. He learned you’d taken up watercolor painting, developed a small addiction to podcasts, and still hated parallel parking.

Then came the first kiss.

It wasn’t grand or dramatic. It happened one night after dinner, when you both stood outside your apartment door, neither quite wanting the night to end.

He leaned in, hesitated. You leaned the rest of the way. It was soft. Familiar. And just a little shaky with nerves.

When you pulled back, you were smiling.

“So…” You whispered.

“So…” He echoed, his smile matching yours. “Does this mean that we’re finally doing this?”

“Yeah. We are.”

And then his lips met your

And then his lips met yours once again, soft but firmer this time from all the years of longing finally being out in the open.

——————————————————————————

Six months later, the group had a second reunion. It wasn’t official, just Gojo’s idea of a “campfire-style barbecue” that somehow included a bubble machine, sparklers, and a playlist labeled '00s Hits, Regret Nothing.

You sat next to Suguru on a picnic blanket, his arm draped lazily over your shoulder as you shared grilled corn and stole bites from his plate.

Shoko was seated nearby, nursing a beer and watching Gojo attempt to roast marshmallows with a hair dryer.

“You two are gross.” She commented, nodding at you and Suguru.

“Love you too, Shoko.” You replied sweetly, leaning against Suguru just to spite her.

Utahime wandered over. “Suguru, you ever imagine you’d end up with Y/N back in high school?”

He looked at you, smiling softly.

“Every day.” He said.

You choked on your soda.

Gojo, from the fire pit, let out a dramatic gasp. “I KNEW IT! I knew there was chemistry! I was right! I was right and no one believed me!”

Suguru rolled his eyes. “You once said I had chemistry with a vending machine.”

“It was a good-looking vending machine.” Gojo muttered.

Everyone laughed and for a moment, surrounded by old friends, with Suguru’s hand holding yours and the stars above, it felt like something had come full circle.

Not a perfect loop. But something better.

A new beginning.

Tags: @hawkwithsocks @noooo-onee @pickledsoda

Taglist is open so let me know if you want to be added for future works! :)

[softlypaintedseafoam]

one piece fic recs

because everyone else has fun listing theirs, so i wanna list the fics that changed my brain chemistry. there's some gen fics, ship fics, au fics and i'll be sure to included the ratings for each as well. beware anyone not fully caught up or at certain points in the story, there will be spoilers (but like... we should definitely talk about these recs together...)

gen

light up, light up by taizi (t)

“I have a condition,” Sabo says, sounding, to his own ears, disconcertingly like his father when his father is doing business. It might be that, more than anything, that causes Outlook to consider him thoughtfully. “I’m listening,” the man says. 

where ace is the brother that 'dies' after the gray terminal incident and sabo and luffy are left behind

and i'd know your face if i was drunk and blind and dead by solena2 (t)

Sometimes, Sabo wonders about who he used to be. He gets the chance to find out when he bumps into Fire-Fist Ace at a bar.

TAT the fix-it fic of all time where the brothers of all time get a chance to be with each other once again. this is canon, oda told me so himself

a tall tree, with roots like a newborn by chali (t)

A closer look at the immediate aftermath of Whole Cake Island, because Sanji went through some shit and it was not nearly addressed enough.

a fic where the sasuke sanji retrieval squad learn the full extent of the things sanji experienced in wci. they would have truly crashed out if they knew what all went on

rebase and rebuild by sinelanguage (t)

Sanji’s hands are blown off on Whole Cake Island. Franky builds him prosthetics, but Sanji has a much harder time adjusting to them than anyone expects.

a fic where reiju didn't swap out the cuffs and now sanji has to deal with the consequences featuring phone calls with zeff! as if that makes everything any less angstier

a mercy out of me by merikai (g)

“These,” Sanji replied dully, raising his arms. “Handcuffs.” “Handcuffs,” Luffy repeated.

luffy and sanji having a bonding moment post-wci's events

and then what by grayimperia (t)

Zoro becomes the world’s greatest swordsman and is directionless in more ways than one.

ft frobin post-canon fic where, with his lifelong goal finally achieved, zoro isn't sure what to do with his life next

lionheart by cyan96

Wherein thirteen year old Trafalgar Law and twenty-six year old Rocinante tumble sideways through time-space via the blue desperation of a newly eaten devil fruit, from Minion island to a future distant. Right, unwittingly, onto the submarine deck of a another Law shortly after Doflamingo’s fall.

the rosinante lives fic i was not expecting to come across but the power of dope fanart dropped it in my lap

zosopp

take care of you by strawberrycamel (t)

In which Zoro and Usopp can’t see what’s in front of them.

a zou fic where zoro realizes he can totally use minkship as an exploit to cuddle his crush whenever he wants and usopp panics about it

frobin

how to dance with you by grayimperia (g)

When you meet a girl as super as Nico Robin, you learn to make sacrifices. Or, Franky learns to waltz.

ft. lusan wanting to waltz with robin whenever the opportunity again arises, franky asks sanji to teach him how to waltz. of course, not everything goes to plant

between thoughts and steel by inked_spirits (g)

Nights on the Sunny are long when sleep refuses to come. Robin needs to deal with her memories, Franky gets a chance to show her that some wounds are easier to bear when carried together. Night talks under the starry sky are a perfect cure for insomnia.

post-enies lobby fic centered around franky and robin after the first date of all time

lawzo

seeing a lab about a doc by rollingchibi (e)

This is all Bepo's fault.

ft. lusan college au a/b/o fic with alpha professor law and his omega TA zoro. there are shenanigans and smut, what else does one need?

stages of affection by rollingchibi (e)

Looking at himself in the mirror, at the haunted skeleton that looks back at him, he knows—knows as easily as he knows how to run a wire into someone's heart to remove a blood clot, knows as easily as he knows the list of side effects for a pacemaker, knows as easily as how much of a headache Dr. Crocus gives him by simply breathing near him—that things need to change, that he needs to change.

ft. lusan, usokaya modern au. sugar daddy lawzo fic, send tweet. also, plenty of straw hat misunderstandings and the author also found a way to incorporate luffy and zoro's post-timeskip scars into the story... but at what cost

needling away by rollingchibi (t)

"Sorry—you here for an appointment?" Unfortunately. He should've just gone with Bepo to get coffee.

ft lusan, josaku, past zosan surgeon law wants to get his tattoos touched up... sadly he walks in on the tattoo artists' homies going off about how it's fucked his best friend is dating his ex

luzo

these small hours by maximumqueer

"‘Grief’ is a word Zoro never he thought would associate with his captain, and he feels a bit stupid for that. Of course Luffy would grieve Ace, would probably never stop grieving him. Zoro sure as hell hasn’t stopped grieving Kuina, the promise he made her held tightly between his teeth with every fight, a small empty space in his heart reserved for her."

ft namivivi remember that episode post-wano where the straw hats were worried about vivi and zoro brought up ace? yeah nami gives him a STRONG talking to about the insensitivity of that statement

deadhouse by yamatossenpai (m)

"And then Zoro saw it. The mob rushed through the streets like floodwater, dividing and conquering. The men and women were frenzied; their mouths hung open, their eyes wide and bulging. They tore at each other, or rather, the mob attacked anyone who screamed. The attackers were ravenous, barely human. “If you don’t wanna die,” Luffy whispered, “then we should run.”"

ft frobin, usonami modern zombie au no one asks for but we all secretly think about our faves being in anyway. definitely mind the tags on this one

zosan

warning signs by olgaphobia (t)

*unrequited zosan, endgame lusan zoro's perspective fic where his inability to be vulnerable and refusal to be taken care of leads to him fumbling sanji contrast to luffy who has been open about his feelings from day 1. takes an interesting spin on zoro's absence in wci. imagine fumbling sanji when he was actually romantically interested in you at one point in the story, i would cry

lusan

warning signs by olgaphobia (t)

The cook left, but you weren't the one to bring him back.

ft unrequited zosan, end game lusan zoro's perspective fic where his inability to be vulnerable and refusal to be taken care of leads to him fumbling sanji contrast to luffy who has been open about his feelings from day 1. takes an interesting spin on zoro's absence in wci. imagine fumbling sanji when he was actually romantically interested in you at one point in the story, i would cry

insatiable by codhya (g)

But then Luffy says, join my pirate crew. One look at that blinding smile and those wide, unfathomable eyes made Sanji hear the words for what they were. Be greedy with me. And Sanji, he finds that he is starving.

sanji introspection piece on being selfish and wanting

crack baby by sanjilockhart (t)

Luffy and Sanji's developing relationship and how Sanji felt when Luffy, quite literally, crashed into his life.

pre-timeskip baratie arc fic centered around sanji's perspective of the luffy recruitment process, aka sanji introspection piece on the horrors of being perceived and wanted

anchor by trixree (t)

It is said that dreams are shared between soulmates. Luckily, the Vinsmoke children do not dream. (Except, of course, for the failure.)

soulmate au where soulmates share dreams with moments that truly hit one in the feels with this one

easy as anything, simple as that by trixree (t)

“Luffy? What’s the matter?” “We’re gonna’ have a wedding,” he says incomprehensibly. Which—no. Absolutely not. Haven’t they had enough of weddings, lately? Nami's certainly had enough for a lifetime, thanks. “What are you talking about? What wedding?” she demands as coherently as she can while running on only two-and-a-half hours of sleep. “Mine and Sanji’s,” Luffy declares.

post-wci where hours after getting themselves to safety, luffy and sanji decide to have an impromptu wedding

a fine looking high horse by grayimperia (t)

The epic duel between first mate and captain’s boyfriend, involving pettiness, throw pillows, and a general inability to walk in another’s shoes.

zoro perspective fic where it turns out the new cook is also luffy's boyfriend. as it also turns out, zoro discovers he's not good at sharing

we both unsettled (shadow preachers) by senjuside (m)

Relationships are not easy. Luffy and Sanji are still learning how to sail thought their prides and fears, even after all those years.

post-canon married lusan fic where sanji deals with the drawbacks of a husband who still remains at sea even after retirement

love is a full stomach by b3rry_jam (nr)

Luffy doesn’t understand romance, but he knows he feels happiest when he’s with Sanji.

sweet and pure lusan fluff, 11/10

and if you still want me... by fizzyren (g)

Sanji gets a lil angsty in his head about Luffy after Whole Cake.

luffy being possessive and clingy post-wci my beloved

and i know where to look by mr_crowsnest

“Luffy, I’m cooking—” “It’ll wait!” Luffy interrupted, already pulling Sanji into the middle of the kitchen. “This is important!” Sanji stumbled, his protest dying on his lips as Luffy’s hands found his, their fingers intertwining with surprising care. Luffy’s grin was infectious, his laughter bright and unrestrained, and Sanji couldn’t bring himself to push him away.

fluff fic where luffy and sanji dance in the kitchen

[inhurtandincomfort]

For the Comfort My OCs Ask Game!

💤- A pleasant dream to Eldwin 🌲 - A day outside to Kieran post-capture 🪀 - A stress or fidget toy to Jowan 💰 - A shopping day to Ancassiuss

💤- A pleasant dream to Eldwin

Did that one here!

🌲 - A day outside to Kieran post-capture

Kieran closed his eyes. Warm sunlight soaked into his skin. It seemed like forever since he'd felt the sun.

It was… spring, now. Or summer. He wasn't sure. A gentle river ran through the forest feeding into a lake nearby. A pleasant breeze brushed through towering trees, ruffling branches hundreds of feet in the air. Fresh air was heavenly after being cooped in that musty basement, and the sunrays felt like a blessing. He clung to that feeling, let it revitalise him. There was a life awaiting him outside. He just had to be patient.

"We should head back," Heather commented, her gaze surveying the woodland. There was no one around for miles. No one ever came there. "He'll be home soon."

"A little longer." He couldn't bear to tear himself away just yet. It was too soon. It was always too soon. "Please."

A collar weighed heavy upon his neck. Her fingers hovered over a controller for a second, before she sighed. She stared into the distance. "Five more minutes. That's all."

🪀 - A stress or fidget toy to Jowan

"Stop fidgeting."

"Don't do that."

"Stop that tapping!"

"Can't you ever just sit still!?"

The beads twirled between his fingers. Wrapping around, looping over, flipping between in an expert manner. Large beads at either end of a string. One hand deftly worked the simple toy performing increasingly complex tricks. Up, sling, roll. With his free hand he turned a page. Endless fields passed by the window.

"Pay attention."

"Am I boring you?"

"What are you doing?"

Jowan glanced up. Thirteen leaned his head against the glass, but his eyes were on Jowan, or more specifically, the string in his hand.

"Ah, am I bothering you? Sorry, I'll stop."

"Don't." When Jowan met his gaze, Thirteen looked away, staring back out the window. "I was just curious, is all."

Oh, I see, Jowan thought in amusement. Thirteen had been content to watch the scenery for awhile, but it had been a long journey. No wonder he was getting bored.

"It's called Begleri. It gives me something to passively do while I work on other things." He flipped the beads in a series of impressive spins that had taken hours of practice. He stopped, grasping them tightly. "Do you want to try?"

For a moment he thought Thirteen was going to ignore him. Then he held out his hand expectantly. "How hard can it be?"

.

.

.

"Why is this so impossible!?" Thirteen scowled at the toy hanging loosely from his fingers. "Here, take it back."

He tossed them flippantly toward Jowan who easily caught them, wasting no time getting back into his routine. "It just takes practice."

Thirteen folded his arms and leaned back in his seat, stubbornly fixated on the window again. "You make it look so easy." He grumbled. Was he pouting?

"Here, try this."

Jowan held the beads in confusion. A single string with a large bead on each side… "What am I supposed to do with this?"

"It's a game from Xluvia. You can learn some really cool tricks with it. It's called Begleri." She picked up another set to demonstrate. She swung them around in a series of rapid movements he couldn't keep track of. She giggled when he tried to replicate, and failed miserably. His cheeks grew hot and he handed the string back to her, but she shook her head.

"I wasn't laughing at you! I wasn't an expert from the moment I picked it up, you know. Here, start with something easier," she said, taking his hand in her own. "Look, hold it like this…"

"I've been doing this for years. It wasn't always so easy." Jowan hesitated. He didn't know if Thirteen would appreciate the offer, but… "Seeing as you're stuck in the lab a lot anyway, I could teach you properly, if you'd like. If nothing else it's something to do. Oh, you don't have to though…"

Thirteen looked back at him. Surprise flashed across his face before it was masked with nonchalance. "Sure, whatever. Fuck all else to do down there anyway."

Jowan smiled softly, and their journey continued in comfortable silence. Loop, flip, swing. It was second nature to him, now. Stern voices still nagged in the back of his mind, but it was getting easier to ignore them. Swing. Flip. Catch.

Thank you, Thaleia.

💰 - A shopping day to Ancassiuss

"Thirteen rics."

"Thirteen!? It was seven last time! Yswenna, you wouldn't be trying to swindle me would you?"

"Times are changin', doll." Yswenna propped her elbow on the counter, resting her chin on her hand. Black rings adorned her fingers, and deep sea hair draped her shoulders. "These resources aren't so abundant anymore. Supply and demand, you see?"

"Aren't I your biggest demand? Couldn't you cut me a deal?"

"Are you saying you can't afford thirteen rics?" A coy smile danced on her lips.

"I'm saying, I'm your most loyal customer," Ancassius drawled, idly twirling his coin purse. "Don't I deserve some special treatment?"

She hummed, a twinkle in her dark eyes. "I'll do twelve."

"You'll do eight."

"Eleven."

"Nine."

"Twenty."

"Wait what?"

She laughed, showing a glimpse of her shark-like teeth. "Let's make it ten, for my most loyal customer. "

"Done!" Ancassius threw ten shiny coins on the counter, and snatched up a box. She watched his every move like a hawk stalking its prey.

"You know, it doesn't take long to whip up. If you bring some ingredients next time, I can make it for you in a flash. And you can keep your low price."

He flashed her a grin. "Where would be the fun in that?"

—-

"Captain!" Moira called in a muffled voice, waving one arm for his attention. The other arm was laden with dozens of goods perched in a precarious pile. She had a lollipop stick in her mouth.

"You've been busy," Ancassius remarked, meeting her where she stood by a market stall.

"This place is great! I've never been able to buy things before!" She swivelled her lollipop, eyes bright with childish glee.

"Did you get everything you need?"

"Almost. I just need one teensy-weensy little thing," she said sweetly. And here we go. "Can you lend me some more money?"

Ancassius' hand twitched at his side as he resisted the urge to bury his face in it. "Moira…"

"Just a little! I'll pay you back, I swear it!" She vowed, "Or I'll cut out my tongue so that I may never swear again!"

"Please don't do that."

"Just one thing! I've already kept the Madam long enough." She gestured to the stall owner, an older woman with stern lines on her face. She gave them both a dirty look.

Saints help me. "…What is it?"

Moira snatched something off the stall and shoved it in his face. "Look at it, isn't it adorable?"

It was… a rat. More specifically, it was the crooked shape of a rat the made from wool, bigger than her head with large teeth and beady black eyes. It was not, by any stretch of the imagination, 'adorable.' In fact, adorable would be the last word Ancassius would use to describe it.

"It's… something."

"I need it."

"No, you don't need it."

"I do."

"You don't."

"Please?"

___

"We need to teach you some financial management."

[soleillunne]

Friends,

I’ve been sitting on this for a while, staring at a blank text post and thinking, “Maybe I’ll feel better tomorrow. Maybe I’m just being sensitive. Maybe if I wait a little longer, it’ll pass.” But it hasn’t passed. It’s only gotten heavier. And I think it’s finally time I say it out loud: I’m leaving Tumblr.

This isn’t something I say lightly. This blog has been a part of me for a long time. I’ve laughed here, cried here, made memories, made friends—real, wonderful friends who’ve gotten me through tough nights and reminded me that there are still kind people in the world. I’ve posted silly things and overshared at 2AM and poured my heart into my writing and, for a while, this space felt like home.

But lately, that feeling has been slipping away. The energy here has changed, and I don’t feel safe or happy in the way I used to. I wish I could pretend that wasn’t true. I wish I could hold on tighter. But the truth is, being here has started to hurt more than it heals.

The anon hate has been relentless. And I know that’s a common thing on this site, but that doesn’t make it easier. I try to brush it off, to not let it get to me—but it does get to me. How could it not? These messages aren’t just annoying or rude—they’re personal. Cruel. Designed to make me feel like I’m not wanted, like I’m not good enough, like I should just stop trying. And when that kind of thing hits you over and over again, it starts to stick. I’ve found myself second-guessing everything. My writing. My personality. My presence. My worth.

And on top of that... I feel invisible.

I put so much of myself into the things I share here—my writing, my ideas, my love for characters, for stories, for this community—and lately, it feels like none of it matters. The interactions have slowed to a trickle, and even when I try to be excited, to start conversations, to cheer on others... it’s been quiet. Too quiet. And I know this isn’t about clout or notes or whatever, but it hurts to feel like I’m shouting into a void. Like I’m the only one clapping at a show I put on for a crowd that isn’t looking.

It’s hard to keep showing up for a space that doesn’t feel like it sees you anymore.

I don’t say any of this to guilt anyone or point fingers. I know life is busy, I know people are going through things, and I know Tumblr is weird and ever-changing. But I also know that I’m allowed to want connection, to want kindness, to want to feel like what I create matters to someone. And right now... I don’t feel that here.

I’ve tried so hard to push through. I’ve stayed quiet about how bad it’s gotten because I didn’t want to seem dramatic or needy. I kept telling myself, “Just wait. It’ll get better.” But it hasn’t. And I can’t keep pretending I’m okay when I’m not. I need to step back for the sake of my own mental health.

This isn’t an easy goodbye. I love so many of you so much. You’ve been my people. You’ve made me laugh when I needed it most. You’ve made me feel heard, seen, and supported in ways I’ll never forget. You’ve given me so many moments of joy and comfort, and I will always carry those with me.

If you want to stay in touch, please reach out. I’m not disappearing completely—I’m just removing myself from a space that’s been doing more harm than good. I need to find peace again. I need to write because I want to, not because I feel like I’m screaming just to be noticed. I need to remember what it feels like to enjoy being creative, to feel inspired, to feel safe.

So... thank you. Thank you for the love you’ve given me. Thank you for reading my stories, for sending kind messages, for just being here when it mattered. You’ve made a difference. You really have. And I hope, in some way, I’ve been able to do the same for you.

Take care of yourselves. Be kind—to others, and to yourself. And if you’re feeling the way I’ve been feeling, please know you’re not alone. You matter. You’re loved. You deserve better, too.

I’ll miss you. But I need to do this—for me.

With love, always,

Alyssa, @soleillunne.

⤷ previous pinned

⤷ writing blog (also archived as of today): @amalythea

[greeenchrysanthemums]

The timeline of past events for the GG rivals au

Year 547:

War breaks out between Wintertide and Coral Crest.

Impulse and Skizz join the army.

Etho leaves his village to fight in the war (he is 16)

Years 548-49:

Etho grows to be feared and infamous.

Year 550:

Grian and Pearl meet (they are 14 and 13).

Year 551:

Ren becomes king following the suspicious death of his father (he is 24; young for a king)

Year 552:

Scott becomes Impulse's squire.

Grian vanishes, leaving Pearl all alone.

Joel becomes Lizzies personal guard.

year 553:

Etho is captured by Coral Crest -> set free by Joel.

Mumbo and Grian meet.

Pearl starts her mercenary work.

Wintertide and Coral Crest enter a tense and hostile truce at the very end of the year.

year 554:

Whispers of a resistance in Wintertide begin.

Year 555:

Etho helps Mumbo and joins the resistance.

Scott becomes a knight.

Pearl and Scott meet.

Martyn joins the Wintertide army.

Year 556:

Gem leaves her village and becomes Impulse's squire (she is 17).

Gem and Grian have their first run-in and Gem is promoted to knight.

Cleo joins the resistance.

Year 557:

Jimmy and Tango join the resistance.

Bigb joins the resistance.

Marytn and Ren grow close -> Martyn becomes his personal guard.

Etho and Gem cross paths again.

Year 558:

Pearl reunites with Grian.

Pearl befriends Gem.

Year 559:

Grian and Mumbo meet Scar.

Scar agrees to help + joins the resistance.

Year 560-561:

Lots of back and forth between Gem and Grian.

No other major events.

Year 562:

war breaks out again.

Year 563:

Wintertides Commander dies -> Gem takes over.

Year 564:

Coral Crests ruler dies -> Lizzie takes over.

another uneasy truce is made, and fighting is halted.

Years 665-66:

Relative peace between the kingdoms

Some back and forth between Gem and Grian, but things seem to be pretty quiet on the resistance's part.

Year 567:

Current events

[waywardstation]

APOLOGIES FOR DISAPPEARING RIGHT AFTER THE SEXYMAN POLLS POSTS I got very sick once again ^^;

BUT I have stuff to post!! I have a project participation announcement, and I have asks/messages to get to, and art and fics to post too. Thank you for your patience as I start things up again ^^

[umblrspectrum]

ive been struggling big time coming up with anything funny to draw that hasnt been done yet so have my rw au art dump

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

I’m the anon who sent you that ask about Sonic and Shadow’s relationship in the Chronic Sonic au. If your post saying you ignore long asks was directed at me, can you please just… post the latest version without answering? I would prefer to save it to my likes and maybe have other fans read my thoughts.

thank you

Well no, it wasn’t just directed at you, there are a couple long asks in my inbox (some of which are positive and very beloved and i cherish, Dopambles I’m looking at you <3). But you’ve sent your ask twice now and this one too so I’ll answer this one. I don’t really want to make this a big long thing, but I also don’t really wanna leave ya hanging when this seems so important to you so lets do this (everyone else can ignore this if ya want I’m going long-winded through everything.)

So, reasons i don’t like to respond to or even post long asks sometimes lets do this [cracks knuckles]

1. I don’t like posting things onto my blog that I haven’t checked over first. I struggle a lot in reading and comprehending long asks. I don’t know why, it’s weird, okay. Let’s leave it at that. I’m not gonna blindly post walls of texts to my blog without checking them over first, because I want to make sure I’m filtering asks so nothing harmful gets posted to my blog. You’d be surprised at how whack a lot of anons can get. Not to say your ask was whack, but I also am struggling to read it so it’s hard to say for sure! It’s not due to the nature of your ask, it is simply because my brain be like dat.

2. Sometimes, I just don’t like having to scroll through walls of texts that aren’t my own to get to my latest posts. I get a lot of asks as it is. I do love answering them, but when they get long, the amount of time it takes to scroll through em makes it hard to refer back to my previous posts and is just is not intuitive or fun when interacting with my own blog, which leads me to my next point

3. This is my space. My blog is by me for me. I choose to post and share to interact and have fun with other people but at the end of the day this blog is my space. I did not create it for anyone other than me. I welcome the people who find joy in my stories here, but this remains my space. If i was being paid for this it’d be different, I’d absolutely curate and change things to make it a better and easier experience for those that i charged to be here, but like… I’m not being paid for this? And to ask me to do what you want in my space so that you can have the experience you want is… i dunno it sounds a little entitled. (I’m not saying that you ARE entitled, only that it sounds like it to me personally.) Contacting me even after I expressed my difficulty in answering asks to try and convince me to post it for your sake is a little rude. I’m not a professional creator, I’m not a person with fans, I’m just a random dude trying to have a good time with other people on a dumpster-fire website. I’m not a creator trying to make sure everyone else is having a good time. This is what i do in my free time to relax and—

4. —being a moderator for other peoples hc’s and conversations is not personally relaxing to me. My blog is not a public confessions blog and I am not a public message board. I am honoured when people share their personal stories and how what I doodle has helped them feel seen and that things will be okay, but I’m not a place for other people to come say what they want to each other, I’m a person, not a message board. How other people use Tumblr is up to them, however, I am not going to change how I use tumblr so that you can have a better experience when it will make the experience worse for me.

5. If i answer asks, I don’t draw. And I like drawing. If I’m posting asks (even without answering them) and stressing about being the middle man in conversations that I will have to regulate to make sure conversations stay kind, that takes a lot of time and energy and I got so incredibly burnt out when i tried to do that. So i stopped. And I will not be starting up again simply so you can have a good time, because I will have a bad one. And this is my space to not have a bad time. If something stresses me out, I will not do it here, it is as simple as that. I have my whole irl to be stressed about.

These are some of the reasons I don’t like to post long asks. I have notified you that I struggle to read, I don’t understand why you continue pushing. I have amazing anon’s who send wonderful long asks who have been kind and considerate with me about my struggles reading and processing. They continue to send their wonderful asks and have assured me it’s okay if I never post them. I am confused as to why you cannot seem to respect my decision as well.

The final reason regarding my hesitance in posting your ask in particular is simply that your hc was not accurate to how I was aiming to portray the characters in the current timeline. You are more than welcome to hc and speculate, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that, but I cannot simply post it without answering it like you suggest because I would need to clarify that it’s not true. When I used to do that, people would start to misinterpret my au’s and it stressed me out. It takes hours for me to write up responses to things sometimes because I want to make sure I’m being kind and thoughtful and accurate. I am honoured that you shared something personal but what you wrote is simply not where the characters are at right now. It could be them in the future, but it is still early in the au so that kind of resentment hasn’t set in yet. Shadow is hurting because he’s taking the brunt of Sonic’s negativity but he is resigned to it because for him nothing else matters as long as Sonic stays alive, even if he has to be the person Sonic hates in all this and that is heavy. He’s angry at him when he does not take care of himself, but he is not resentful. Sonic struggles with being a burden on all of his friends, not just Shadow. The way you described the relationship was closer to how Tails and Sonic interact than Shadow and Sonic and even then, there’s more going on that I just don’t have the time or energy to really walk through. And besides, I want to save that energy to draw out things later.

As i shared with another commenter who asked something similar, I can absolutely DM you your ask back if you want to save it. However I don’t understand why you need me to post it to save it your likes if you simply want to save it. You have your own blog you can post it to. Why does it need to be on my blog? Why do I have to do extra work so you can have an easier time to do what you want? I am very grateful for your interaction and love of my comic, and I understand it’s frustrating when people make things harder for you to have a good time, but that’s exactly what you’re doing to me by asking me to change how I use tumblr to suit your wants instead of what is easiest for me. I am not a public service you pay for. I am a person, a full time student with family issues, struggling siblings that I’m trying to help, a person who is struggling myself. I have a limited amount of energy in a day, I get tired quickly. If i want to continue to find joy in drawing I have to set boundaries. You may not always know why someone does something, I guarantee there is more here that I will not share because it is personal. Sometimes you just have to be okay with not knowing, you have to be okay not understanding, and you have to be okay without an explanation that makes sense to you. All you need to do is understand that often times there is a reason people behave the way they do. It’s not a reflection on you or their opinion of you, it is simply many other factors at play that lead to such an outcome.

I sincerely hope this did not offend you, I am not angry with you, nor do I wish for any of this to be taken as scolding or upset you. If it has come across that way, I apologize. I am sorry I am not in a state to give you what you want, and I’m thankful for your patience with me in reading through this and I hope it is enough to at least paint a little bit of a picture as to why I will not be posting your ask. It’s unfortunate that I ended up spending hours addressing this anyway both to you and to another commenter—the very thing I wanted to avoid—but I value you as a person and did not want to leave you feeling negatively if I could change that. I hope this does not affect your enjoyment or experience with how you were having fun with my au, and if it does I am deeply regretful. However, I do have to set boundaries and make sure I’m doing okay or there would be no AU at all. Thanks for your understanding and I hope you have a day as kind as you are.

[starry-bi-sky]

i have concept doodles for stately raven!danny its mostly so i could visualize where his burn scars would be, since its easier to keep track of it if i have a visual.

(Jackson Raven is the fake name he'll be going by)

i drew it in a smaller journal than i usually do and its been a few weeks since i drew anything so its a bit messy. I dont quite have burn scars figured out, so it's not as accurate as i have in my head, but it helped get the idea out.

Most of the scarring i was thinking about was around the outside of his arms and is patchier and less-encompassing than what i drew. I think most of it would be second degree scarring, but he does have this odd-looking set of thick, straight third degree burning around his upper left arm from when he was trying to push this large, metal pole out of the way. It's also where the burn line on his neck comes from, he slipped and got himself on the neck by accident. It's less severe but it still ended up scarring.

Just by virtue of how close he was to the explosion I think he might have some flash burn scarring on one side of his face. And only one side because how I imagined it happened was that he was on the phone with his friends or parents cuz he was running late, and he was turned slightly away from the building just as it exploded, so only half of him got flash burned while the other got road rashed.

He wears his Dad's hoodie for typical sentimental reasons, but it has the secondary use of keeping him nondescript. His extensive scarring makes him terribly recognizable and in Gotham that's not a good thing if you're not powerful enough to back it up. And with 'Danny Fenton' being a legally missing kid, it doubles as helping him hide from Vlad.

His hair is long because long hair >>> but also the watsonian reason is that Danny doesn't have the resources to cut it nor the desire to coz hair has memories and the longest parts of his hair is where his family last touched it.

[exile-arc]

it's meant to be the happy time of year - c!tommy + if we make it through december (phoebe bridgers cover)

❄️ / ❄️ / ❄️ / ❄️ / ❄️ / ❄️ / ❄️ / ❄️

[volivolition]

this blog is quickly becoming a multi-fandom just general main blog when it was originally meant to be for de skills hgkjg like i know its my blog but i hope no one minds <33

[venacoeurva]

I do feel bad for people who really only use Twitter, I used it exclusively for a while when it was still decent-ish pre-elongated crust, and it's been dogshit but it keeps getting worse... but some people

have all their mutuals and friends there

some people can't use other social media they otherwise would due to it being banned where they are (which might include the aforementioned mutuals and friends living there too)

a ton of people have a larger following or reach there than any other sites they use that won't follow them elsewhere and that's their only source of income so they can't just delete and leave

and it's one of the few major social medias left where there's an active and openly allowed nsfw scene.

The fact that the alternatives are smaller sites scattered all over the place that might die in a few years, get worse, stagnate, or just never get much traffic just has me kinda

[coquelicoq]

some of the things my boss says are genuinely very interesting and educational and i've learned a lot from him over the years but the problem is i've been with him so long and from such a young age that now when he starts getting up a good head of steam my father monologue filter gets activated and i just tune him out automatically even if i would be really into the wisdom he's imparting if i were paying attention. the occupational hazards of working for the same guy since age 17 i guess.