is the fandom topics irl like an actual for real class you're taking this semester? like college discussion class? bc if so that honestly sounds a bit like potential Hell
when I said "(serious)" i meant (serious). i'm actually taking a college class this semester on fandoms. obviously I don't know exactly what it'll entail, but it seems like it's gonna be about the phenomena of fandoms and fandom spaces, originality, and capitalism's influence.
and it could potentially be hell because i think. there is some unconscious purity culture going on here, but the professor doesn't seem to share it, which is a positive. and it's not extreme, at least not yet, but it's like *side eye*.
but it was only day one and I have faith in my ability to deal with other people having opinions I don't like sometimes, so we'll see :)
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universe of constant spinning, every end a new beginning
“So, do you have an umbrella? That was like, your thing, right? At Claw?”
Ah—not again! He can’t keep zoning out while talking to people—especially his boss.
But… why was Reigen still here? It was late and he always got to work early. It wasn’t his job to stay and coddle his employees. “I—uh—no,” he stuttered, fingers twisting anxiously. “Mine was, uh, "is” broken, sir.”
‘Broken’ was a mild way to put it. More like it got destroyed.
[or, reigen gives serizawa an umbrella]
☔️2,651 words | serirei☔️
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Huntress,
2024, February 14th. Unsent letter to Sarang.
I walked by the edge of the mortal and immortal realms. Quests, obsessions, delusions, that, for as long as my endless days have been haunting me, have known no salvation, no redemption. To perish. All I ever wished for was to be buried to the ground. For the grand, violent, merciless death of Thanathos and Moros to turn me into ashes. It all changed, when you found me again.
The sound of your arrows rattling against the cold of my blade echoes in the core of the night, a vibration in the crystal of my bones, the awakening of a passion that burnt inside me through the centuries. Do I renounce, surrender to what I have been chasing for 600 years : the wish to never feel alive. You make me feel alive. Alive, when the black blood of my iron veins tremble to the sound of your velvet voice, to the warmth of your core, to the darkness of your eye. I do not wish to break your heart, Adored, yet I am aware these irrational desires of mine, the prayers for my own end - I aware of the doubts and the trouble is rises within you. They follows us, the shadows of my own madnesses, they're running aft'er Us. I myself broke my own heart, Beloved, realizing I never learned how to live outside of the idea that death would be better than any of this.
I am scared. I must admit. Scared to accept this immortality and acknowledge that I became this monstrosity my own blood made of me. Have my crusade been in vain? Have the lives I took, the generations of underworld creatures I exterminated... was all this loss in vain? I tainted the colors of my soul, sold it to the depths of hell, for a mortality that will never be mine? I attempted to grieve, for many years, to grieve this dream of lying still, lifeless. And then I see you, and this pain I have been holding onto, it vanishes. How selfish can I remain, if I deny this second chance the Olympians have given me, the chance of sharing the rest of this immortality with You.
Will you keep me in your soul?
Along with the rivers of guts and blood that have washed over my martial hands and my serpentine coils?
Will you hold my wrath in the palms of your tender hands? Will you treat oh so gently the madness that poison my viscera?
I was a coward, running away after the Grand War in the 18th century. I was a coward, disappearing from your sight after our truce in the 19th century, I was a coward, escaping after reuniting with you in San Francisco in the 20th century. A coward : I do not wish to be one any longer. In the nights I must suffer from your absence, I remember the tips of your fingers against the timidity of my neck and I pray, to my Mother Hecate, to forgive me and I beg, for all my punishments to crease, and I beg, for You.
Will you spend another eternity with me?
⠀⠀⠀⠀An unsent letter to @mythvoiced. From Calista.
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