(Rules/FAQ • Prompts)
Digiweek is an event to celebrate all things Digimon. The event will be held from July 26 until August 1 2022 and is not bound to certain universe nor character/pairing, so everyone is welcome to express their love for the fandom!
What comes after the school year ends and everyone has graduated? A yearbook.
We would like to appreciate those who have participated in Digiweek 2022, whether they participate every single day or only one day. Thank you for walking with us for the second year and, most importantly, to keep the fandom alive. We hope to see you around after a nice break!
You can check submissions from every participant by visiting their blog directly or accessing the tag #@[username] on Digiweek’s blog as we have tagged each submission with the original poster’s username. If you want to check out certain characters or relationships, we have also updated our tags page!
And don’t forget we’re still doing the post-event survey. Your opinions are important to us.
Kindly note that we only include those who post within June 26, 00:00 GMT+14 (the easternmost time zone) until August 1, 23:59 GMT-11 (the westernmost time zone). We also understand that there might be blogs owned by the same person. However, we consider one blog equal to one participant as it is easier for us to track.
Final entry for @digiweek! Woohoo! If it wasn't obvious, I have been LIVING for all the 20th anniversary Frontier stuff we've been getting this year. And yet... there has been a bit of an absence in regards to Bokomon and Neemon (not to mention their child, Seraphi- I mean Patamon). I wanted to draw this trio in fancy outfits so they kind of match that official art of the Frontier kids, for no other reason than they deserve it! Bokomon and Patamon have traded their haramakis for satin cummerbunds, and all three of them are rocking bowties (Bokomon learned how to tie them… though I think Patamon’s must be a clip-on). Even Neemon exchanged his favorite elastic-waisted pants for a more formal pair that came with suspenders (though they don't seem to fit him any better!).
I can't say it enough: Happy 20th Anniversary, Frontier! You will always be one of my favorite seasons <3
For this @digiweek prompt, I really wanted to draw characters I’d never ever drawn before, and since I’m also trying to focus on characters who don’t get a lot of fanfic/fanart love, Megumi (left) and Miki (right) from Savers/Data Squad seemed like the perfect choice! Even though they don’t get a ton of screentime, they are both hugely important to the operation of DATS, and I think it’s sweet that they’re not only coworkers, but best friends. I also love their friendship with Yoshino, and I would totally read fanfic about them taking their chess-themed digimon (and maybe the rest of the DATS team!) out to karaoke. Their partners may evolve into a Bishop ♗ and a Rook ♜, but they are two Queens ♕♛.
I’ve gradually been finding time to finish everything I wanted to make for @digiweek! Better late than never, right? ;D
Remember these two? I wanted to draw one of the Chosen Children/partner digimon we meet during the Digimon World Tour arc of 02, and I can't say I've seen much fanart of this pair: Derek (sorry, I have a really hard time calling him by the name they gave him in the Japanese version; Dingo seems like a nickname at best) and Crabmon/Ganimon. I hope they have a lot of fun windsurfing off the Gold Coast together when they're not being chased by aggressive marine digimon!
hey there! i'm not sure why tumblr for android does this, but the bio links for rules & faq and prompts show up as the same colour as the background, and for a while i was confused trying to look for these pages until i realised it shows up like this 😔 on chrome app though, it's light blue. maybe you could change the colour so it shows up android users? thanks!
Hello!
Thank you for your observation! The color of the link depends on the color palette you use on your device. If you change it, you'll see the links' color will be visible.
We thank you for this since maybe other people had the same concern. Have a nice day!
Question: do we need to do the sub-prompts? I am considering making some gifs, but I'm not feeling very wordy for the sub-prompts. 😂 Can I just make a gifset and post it in your tag?
Hello! We thank you for your interest in Digiweek even though the 2022 rollout has officially finished.
We did have a free day every August 1st where everyone can submit anything without the prompt limitation. However, as we evaluate this year’s Digiweek, we realized that we need to revisit how things should work on this particular day. That’s why after careful consideration, we will only reblog post-event submissions for Day 7 that adheres to the Graduation and/or Odaiba Memorial Day prompt.
The reason why we have prompts/subprompts on Digiweek is to differentiate the event from the usual day-to-day content that ought to have more freedom. We tried to take as much consideration as possible before we settled for a theme/prompt/subprompts (one of them is to look at your suggestions from the post-event surveys—still open for 2022, by the way!). Yet again, we understand that some prompts might not be working for our participants, and that’s why it’s okay for you to skip when the prompt does not resonate with you (also mentioned on FAQ).
We sincerely apologize for any inconvenience. Looking forward to seeing you!
(And let’s cross our fingers for #digiweek2023? ;D)
Would I be able to participate in Digiweek like... later this month or early September? I didn't know it was a thing until today and I really do want to participate lmao
Hello! We're very glad you want to be a part of Digiweek 2022, feel free to take the prompts and make content out of it. If you want us to reblog, please follow the rules still and tag it with #digiweek2022. Mentioning us directly will help if you want to be reblogged as soon as possible, because Agu-Doc gives us 1 year vacation, so we're not really standing by. Good luck with your creations!
the blood of the covenant (is thicker than the water of the womb)
Taichi leaves home. Or tries to, anyway. [#digiweek2022 #graduation]
We’ll dream of a longer summer
but this is the one we have:
I lay my sunburnt hand
on your table: this is the time we have
(adrienne rich)
It’s the wristbands he notices first, and only then because they’re not her usual sort: frayed and aged, without grace. Nothing like her. This diversion alone should have him curious, but it’s more how careful she is with them even so. During water breaks, she’ll rub her thumb over the elastic cores; between sets, she’s adjusting their fit. When she scratches her wrist, he sees the dark black ink of his surname and their junior high school’s crest stamped to the inside of the left cuff. He’d been sure he’d lost the pair years ago.
Sora lowers her racket. Her eyes are brighter in the early morning sun, frowning at him from across the court. Tugs at one band absently again, holds his name to her pulse. Wearing him close, and always. “What?” Her voice cross, distracted by all the thoughts she won't say aloud.
Taichi shakes his head, the smile coming easily. Bounces the tennis ball just once, from his side of the net, ready to return. “Nothing.”
-
He spends the rest of the morning clearing out his home office—really, the bookshelves and work equipment stored in the corner of his studio flat, left to the very last possible moment. It’s a task that takes a half hour, yet Jou’s been lingering for well over two, finding new things to fuss and mutter over as he pokes and prods the assortment of moving boxes. “There’s no system.” The dismay makes his voice quiver.
“What would I need a system for?” grunts Taichi. He has his game system stuffed halfway into the too-small cardboard box his rice cooker came in, which only stresses Jou more.
“So that when you unpack, you make it as smooth a process as it can be.” He clutches the water glass in his hand nearly tight enough to crack it, anxiously watching Taichi tape up the weathered box in the most inefficient way imaginable.
“That’s no adventure.”
Jou pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Moving is not about adventuring.”
“Not with that attitude.”
“You’re an adult.”
“No name-calling,” and he sighs. Looks up at him from the floor, surrounded by unlabeled boxes with mismatched contents. The stuff of Jou’s nightmares. “All that matters is getting there in time to start the job, right? And with the state of our worlds, you know—,” frowns, then quickly resets, brighter smile. “So who cares how?” Then swears under his breath when the packing tape loops around itself.
“I do.” It’s about as sternly as he’s ever spoken to him. Taichi stares, surprised, and Jou puts the glass down and stands. Takes out a black marker from his pocket, uncaps a lid ridged with teeth bites. Marks three boxes in tidy script, itemizing along the way, before he notices.
“How’s that still working?” Because it shouldn’t. The last he’d used it, he’s sure, was for that map he’d tried making, in those early days. Another lifetime, in another world.
Jou skips the question, the back of his neck pink. “Follow these instructions when you get there. Go in this order. Don’t just make one up.”
And he could answer. Be unserious about it, make him laugh. Levity at the close of a life chapter. Turns the next box ‘round towards him instead, holding it steady as Jou writes. Every stroke of the borrowed pen a promise. Let me take care of you.
-
Iori brings lunch, the sort they’d separately gotten used to scarfing down on packed schedules. Hadn’t much time then, either, rushed himself between a late morning class and an early afternoon clerkship. He still remembered to bag them inside two sets of plastic bags—the outer boasting the Ai-Mart logo and the interior printed with another name brand. Taichi whistles, brow arched. “The betrayal.”
“Hiding it’s the lesser evil.” This makes him laugh, and Iori pause. Turns wide green eyes to him in an unblinking gaze. “Did I really say that?”
“Growing up isn’t always a moral compromise,” assures Taichi. Clears off room for two at his low table, a red sticker stuck on one of the corners. Taps it when he catches Iori frowning. “So I know what to sell off.”
“That’s generous.” Timidly spoken, because he’s still bad at lying.
“This table got me where I am today.” Shakes the legs, cheerful as he ignores the wobbly putter. “There’s wisdom in these bones.” Looks at him meaningfully, his best sales pitch. “Can I sell you some wisdom, Hida?”
“Actually,” and pauses to swallow, “I have it.”
This is an understatement. Already surpassed his peers, a star on the horizon. “Don’t need to rub it in, y’know.” Because it’s easier to joke his way through his feelings, looking him over in swollen pride.
“Yours, I meant.” Opens the slim pocket stitched in the centermost lining of his knapsack, the kind designed to hold identification, bank cards, important documents. Instead, Iori takes out a simple, forest green notebook. Turns to a page two thirds of the way in, runs his fingertip down the cramped lines. He stops at the last one, ink fresh enough to smear under his thumb. The handwritten timestamp is dated to the phone call he’d made that morning, apologetic to be asking for advice on Taichi’s last day, seeking his opinion on a mock brief about Digital World private contracting for his legal philosophy course. “You share a lot.”
“Worth writing?” Smiles a little, made quiet by how words matter.
Iori nods. Closes the notebook, so Taichi can see what he’s pasted to the cover, the last line of his thesis statement. To clarify the truth. “Worth keeping.”
-
“All right, I get the sentiment, but this is getting into obsessive stalker territory.”
He pauses at the doorway, brow raised. “You literally invited me over.”
Gestures at his outfit, clucking in exasperation. “Has everyone nicked something of mine?”
Takeru sticks his tongue out, smoothing the front of the Soumei University sweatshirt. “Someone has to make all this shit taste look good.” Taichi mimes a kick to his shin, which the younger man side steps, invites himself into the flat. Looks aghast at the mess that greets him, stopped in his tracks. “I see Jou came to his senses about you being beyond the reach of help.” Taichi just raises a middle finger, followed by the offer of something to drink.
“I’ve got plenty of time.”
“You’ve got about six hours.”
“Like I said.” Empties the last can of soda Iori’d left into paper cups. “Plenty.”
Takeru takes two gulps before he exclaims, pointing at the years’ old calendar on the living room wall. “You’re so slow you’re even living in the past, Taichi!”
“It’s on purpose,” he answers, throwing the drink back in one swig. Wipes his mouth, “A reminder.”
“Of what possibly could you—,” and stops.
Taichi chews the paper edge, thinking. “It shouldn’t really help, but it does. Hey,” because his fist is clenched tight at his side, arm heavy. “We’re okay now, right?”
He drags his eyes from the circled date, followed, always, by that hollowed ache. Watches Taichi carefully. “You sure you are?”
“‘Course.” He grins. “I’m going to find a way forward. For all of us. And then they’ll be back.”
Takeru turns his head a little, slow to smile back. He tries to remember every detail of this scene, for the journal he’d been keeping, tracking their adventures. The time of day, the sound of his voice, his clarity of vision. How he saw things the rest of them couldn’t, lighting a way home through the dark. “That’s the job, yeah?”
Taichi nods, looking ahead. “That’s the job.”
-
Miyako brings Ken, or Ken brings Miyako; Taichi chooses not to request clarification. She rinses out the tupperware she’d loaned him, talking over her shoulder from the kitchen sink. “Are you really sure I can’t pack something small?”
“It’s not a good idea, Miyako.” Ken pats dry the rectangular lid she hands him, makes a stack of the clean dishware on the counter.
“But airplane food is so unpleasant! Trust me, I know.”
“We do trust you. And I do know you.” A little shyer then. Taichi might as well not be in the room at all.
“Most of my relocation expenses are covered,” he says, inserting himself back into the conversation. He’s cross-legged on the floor, using his phone to take pictures of the instructions Jou’d marked down on every packed box. “I can charge incidentals you to my travel card, so it’s not a problem to pick things up at the airport.”
Miyako blows a raspberry, scrubbing harder. “Whenever my family goes anywhere, I always send them with something.”
He had gotten used to that, too, truth be told. The envy of his colleagues whenever he’d pull out homemade lunch boxes on long train rides, out of town meetings, cross world missions. How she had time for any of this, with all she did for Koushiro and the others, he’d never know—but then, the Inoues were that kind of family. “I’d feel worse taking it without being able to give it back.”
“Please,” mutters Miyako. Pushes her permed bangs back with the forearm. “Between you, Daisuke, Takeru, and Mimi, my tupperware’s seen more of the world than I have these days.” Her sigh is wistful. “Maybe I should travel again, too.”
He clocks the sudden stiffness to Ken’s posture, and intervenes. “Seriously, all this talk about leaving—it’s a move for a job, not a lifetime departure.” Meets Miyako’s curious glance with an assuring smile. “Not sure what today’s parade of goodbye visits has been about, but I doubt we’re not not seeing each other again real soon.”
Ken turns, a small smile lighting solemn eyes. “Parade, huh?”
“More the evidence left behind,” shrugs Taichi. “Jou somehow has my old marker, Sora, my black wristbands. Takeru literally showed up in one of my shirts. It’s weird. What?” because they’re staring at him like he’d grown a third eye, and still hadn’t the sense to use any three.
Miyako pulls at the apron she wears. “You don’t recognize this?” The prolonged pause has her hands thrown in the air. “Do you know how much of your stuff we’ve all got?” and jabs a soapy finger at the wristwatch Ken sports on his right arm.
He ducks his hand behind him, shy again, but Taichi just grins, shaking his head. He’d never found many things so precious. People, yes. Partners. Not things. Never understood it much, the desire to hold. “How long’s it been going on?”
Miyako doesn’t answer, which is odd enough, but what Ken says clinches it. “Since a couple years before Tokyo Tower.” Hesitates, then lowers his gaze, to make sure Taichi hears him. “After them.”
It’s a moment, or maybe two, before he remembers he’s not alone. Feels the look they exchange, the weight of it. Miyako turns the tap off. “It’s like you were here, but not here.” She draws a breath, “It was hard, seeing you like that.”
“Harder for you,” says Ken, chewing his lip, “we know.”
Taichi nods slowly. “But still hard.”
Miyako picks at the hem of the pilfered apron, her favorite in the rotation she ran through each week. Everything it carried. “Anyway, we do it everyone, all of us. I’ve got earrings from Mimi, Hikari’s old mittens, one of Yamato’s scarves, Daisuke’s class ring. It’s a little like having all of you around, all the time.”
Ken twists at the borrowed watch, waiting for the judgment, or the asked return. But everything Taichi finds precious, he sees in front of him. Cracking a bigger smile, he motions them closer. “Come on. Get in a picture with me.”
The magic words. Miyako bounds forward, arms thrown around his neck so tight Ken has to beg her to let the man breathe, or he’d never leave. “How can any of you even try?” she laughs, and squeezes harder. “I’ve got too many pieces of any of you to try.”
-
“She has my what?”
Taichi slurps more of his noodles, huddled over the makeshift table and chair that is an upturned bucket and a three-legged stool. Everything Daisuke earned he poured right back into the best ingredients and cookware; patrons were on their own. “The ring—like, your class ring.”
He gapes at him from behind the window of the outdoor ramen cart. “But she—how—? We weren’t even in the same class!” Yells, the pieces falling into dumbstruck place, “Or the same school!” Taichi just snorts, ducks his face back over the wide bowl. Daisuke smacks the knife he’d been using to slice scallions onto the small cutting board, hands gripping the edge of the counter as he shakes his head, tsking under his breath. “When I meet her next….”
“I’ve never even seen you wear rings,” muses Taichi, wiping his mouth with his wrist.
“It’s the principle, Taichi.”
Had no idea what those might be, but nods anyway. “Then ask for it back.”
“And be the victim and the jerk?”
He keeps going, having learned to barrel ahead whenever Daisuke fell into one of his hangups. “Ken’s even got my watch, apparently. The one I wore all my first year of grad school.”
But Daisuke’s stopped listening, looking at him funny. “The one with the gold plating?”
“Mm?”
Mumbles through gritted teeth, wallowing for an entirely different reason now, attention ever elusive, “You love that watch. Said it was your dad’s, from trade school.”
“It is. I do,” and pushes the bowl back with a satisfied belch. “I guess I like that Ken can use it, too.”
Daisuke pokes at the knife handle, prodding it into a more safe position in the utensil bin at the base of the cutting board. “We could all use it.” Amused, Taichi lets him sulk a little, an open book of unfiltered emotion, then finally retrieves from the bag at his feet what he’d come here to leave behind. Daisuke’s mouth opens to no sound—an utter rarity. “But,” head snapped up again, searching gaze transparently wide, “I gave them back because you—?”
“—needed them, yeah. And somehow you knew why before I did, then, too.” A fleeting moment of honest emotional confession. Stands as he brings both the empty ramen bowl and his old goggles to the counter. “I need them here more now.”
Daisuke doesn’t take it, the bowl, or the gift. Not at first. “Really?”
“Consider it a loan.” Reaches through the window to tip the lopsided chef’s hat back into proper place. Presses his knuckles to the younger man’s temple, an affectionate knock. “You can repay me with more of your test recipes, next time I’m home.”
His fingers tug at the faded black headband, with wonder. Then he blinks, startling upright. “Wait—did you think dinner was free?” Taichi snatches the goggles back, and Daisuke yells, panicked, bursting into a grin bright enough to rival the sun. “No, it’s a joke! It’s a joke!”
-
“I know how to knot a tie.”
Her eyes are watery, lip trembling. “Really?” Like she hadn’t just seen him in one a week earlier, at the reunion event for the Odaiba Memorial.
“Test me.” It’s a considerable effort to hide his smile, amused by the overly performative concern he knows is every ounce of sincere.
“The Windsor?” Scrubs her face with the back of her hand.
Nods confidently. “Half.”
“The Pratt?”
“Not a thing.”
“St. Andrew?”
“Doesn’t exist.”
“Kelvin? Plattsburgh?” Her voice has climbed to a wail. Uses his thumb to press down the volume button on the side of his mobile, hunched at the back of the bus he’s taking from Daisuke’s. “Grantchester?”
“Mimi, stop making up names.”
She’s sputtering now, nose red and leaky. “Eighteen, Taichi.”
He switches the phone to his other hand, flexes the first. Joint aches followed every one of Mimi’s video calls, her tendency to ramble and prolong leaving his wrist stiff and his age fully felt. The one time he’d answered her with the camera off, she somehow tattled to his parents about it, earning an earful from his mother. Lesson learnt, and never repeated. “Hate to break it to you, but we’re both well past eighteen.”
“Most common ways to knot a tie! And you have to know all eighteen of them, or no one will ever take you seriously!”
“I mean,” he laughs, “I got the job, right?”
She huffs, “But do you want to keep the job?”
There’s no winning here, so he settles back, adjusts his earphones. “All right. How about a compromise?” Her eyes narrow, or appear to—the video screen makes it difficult to tell around their puffiness, but history has taught him better than to voice such observations. “If you send me the top five, I promise to try them out.”
Mimi appears to consider the terms carefully, raising her chin after a moment. “I accept.”
Tries not to roll his eyes too much. “Great. You can email me a link t—,”
“I’ve got time now!” and disappears off the screen to the sounds of drawers opening and a closet door slamming shut. She pops back on a moment later, transformed entirely, no evidence of a single tear.
“I can’t now, I’m—isn’t that mine?”
“Hm?” Drapes the yellow satin tie around her own neck, adjusting her camera to show her fully. She works the first loops with an impressively practiced ease, but he’s too preoccupied.
“That’s my tie.”
Denies it at once, effortlessly, her own reality a far better place to live, all things considered. “No, I don’t think so.”
Taichi sits up straighter, leaning close to the screen with his mouth open. “No, it’s definitely—did you take that from the memorial event?” His turn to sputter, “How? I was wearing it!”
“Just pay attention!”
“Give me back my shit, Mimi!”
-
“They’ve all lost their minds.”
Hikari laughs, adds another spoon of chocolate hazelnut spread to his sliced bread crust. “You keep good company, then. Birds of a feather and all.”
“Says you.” Wags a finger at her. “Your friends, too, you know.”
“Dear brother, I am very good at sharing.”
He accepts the late-night snack, offers a half empty bottle of rice wine in exchange. She accepts it, used to his sampling of gifts. “It’s not like we see much of each other these days in the first place.” He says this without much emotion one way or another, his pragmatism more matter of fact than insensitive, really. That, and his head’s fuzzy from the rice wine, the long day, the longer day ahead. “Moving away is not a big deal in the grand scheme of things.” When he looks at her, she understands this is meant for her. That he’d stopped by to say this, for her to hear this.
“Maybe we’re all busier these days, but showing up’s always been there.” Pours two glasses. They’re in her kitchen, eating standing on their feet for easy clean up, backs to the walled cabinets.
“It’ll always be there. What else are emails and calls for?”
“He says like he answers many.”
Taichi kicks out a foot, toe digging into her ankle bone. She shuffles aside, undeterred. “You’re as busy as I am.”
“No one’s as busy as you.” Her tone’s without complaint. She’s learned by now, understood much more. “So they worry.”
“And steal.” Ticks the list off on the hand not holding onto a piece of toast. “Wristbands, markers, shirts, ties. A miracle I could even fill up any moving boxes.”
Grins at his mock exasperation, and the current of flattered amusement underneath. “Is it really so bad? To want to carry you the way you carry us?”
He’d considered looking at it that way, of course. The sun of their orbit, yes. But all stars collapse. How could he leave them? How could he ever leave them?
“Well,” smacks his lips, “you all are fucking heavy.”
Laughs, in spite of it all. “That’s why we share.” Looks at him over the rim of her glass. She knows that if her mouth is empty, even for one moment, she’ll start to cry. He steps to the counter, cuts another few slices of the baguette he’d bought on the way over, assembles another snack round. Like he knows it, too. Hikari wipes her nose with the back of her wrist, looking away as she blinks her eyes clear. “You have to share it, Taichi. Okay?” Breathes slowly, found her voice. “You can’t carry the world alone.”
Holds up his hand. “Two worlds.”
“And counting.”
“Let’s not get too far.”
Puts her glass down hard enough to make his neck turn at the sharp crack the cup makes against the counter. Her arms around his waist, her face pressed to his back. Like kids again. “Then don’t go too far.”
-
“That actually makes sense.” Admires the pocket telescope, runs his fingers over the familiar grooves and dials. “You used this before, too, to know how to get us to the next step. It fits.”
“I’m sure the others made sense of theirs, too.” Ever polite, working at reason. Taichi clumsily hands the old child’s toy back to him, goes back to his drink. Koushiro turns the tool over, careful with each touch.
“It’s still so weird, though.” Groans as he turns his tipsy posture against the wall, arms crossed over his chest for balance. Sighs, eyes shut to block out the bar lighting, the chatter of other patrons around them. “I mean, am I dying or moving?”
Koushiro smiles through the flippant remark, pulling back his bottom lip with his teeth. A bad habit. Closes his hand around the telescope on the table. Something to hold. “Don’t.”
His head sinks, face red from drinking. “Don’t move, or don’t die?” Mumbles this through a yawn, only half serious. “’Cause it’s kinda inevitable on eith—,”
“Don’t let me know a world without you.”
Taichi doesn’t reply, or open his eyes.
Koushiro checks the time on his phone, debates whether to call Yamato, or a cab, or stay. He starts to push back from the table, nearly off the seat, when Taichi’s ankle locks around his chair’s leg. His eyes still shut, arms still crossed, mouth still closed. Pulls the chair back where it was, where it should be, beside him.
So Koushiro stays.
-
Yamato idles the car, forearms balanced on the steering wheel he leans over. He looks ahead into the airport traffic, frowning for different reasons. “They call themselves the Anti-Digital World Movement.”
Taichi snorts, then winces, rubbing his aching temples. “Real original.”
“Real threat.”
“Let them try.”
“No.” Trains the frown his way then. “We don’t let them try, Taichi.”
Pats the sides of his head, like that could will away both the hangover and the conversation. Far too early to be talking business like this. “Why don’t you give me the fourteen hour flight, and then when I start Monday we can pick this up again?”
Yamato grimaces into the side mirror, glancing at the mingling crowds of departing passengers, making farewells on the curb. “The point is, they know who you are, so you need to be careful.”
“After Tokyo Tower, everyone knows who I am.” It’s not a boast, not in the slightest. There’s nothing about the work that irritates him less than the occasional pomp and show. Photographed speeches, televised interviews. Angles his neck against the headrest, turned towards him. “Everyone knows who you are, too, Mr Knife of—,”
“Do you understand that you’re on your own now?” Glares right back at him. His hands still hold the steering wheel, fingers dug into the fine leather stitching. “Do you understand what that means?”
Taichi picks at the lint on the strap of his hand luggage. “How could I know what it means? You’ve never given me the chance to find out.” His awkward attempt at gratitude and affection, made worse by how low he mumbles it, face downturned.
He unlocks the car door, unceremonial about it. “Well, get ready.”
“I don’t think I will.” Opens the passenger side, one foot on the pavement. When he looks back, it’s with a smile.
Yamato takes a breath. “Call me when you land.”
“I probably won’t remember that, but okay.”
“Don’t forget.”
A joking laugh, dismissive wave, “I said, I’ll—,” and stops when Yamato catches his hand.
Leans forward while holding on, unable to look at him. Like he could cave into himself, or fall apart, if he dared to watch the ending. Every step the farthest they’d ever been from the other, seismic shifts with the world in the balance. “Don’t forget.” It‘s you and me, ‘til the end of the road. Looks at him then, at the last, at the parting. Don’t forget. You and me.
notes: there couldn’t be a better prompt for Odaiba day than graduation. I’ve had this story in mind for a while, but the little snippet of taichi in the first few minutes of the upcoming 02 movie had me feeling some type of way. I both love and despair over how grown he is! truthfully, one of my most pragmatic headcanons about this group is that they stay friends, but not in the close way we might want of them. I don’t mean a willful estrangement; just a consequence of life’s bends in the road, as we all grow up, and apart, and back again. hence, the title: the hope that the bridges we build to each other will withstand the aged waters underneath. anyway, if you enjoy this little oneshot, please stay tuned for my next fic, butterflies in august, of which you may consider the present work a preamble. thanks for reading. until next year x
Kinda a late submission because of real life stuff and lack of ideas. Yet, here it comes.
Adult Daisuke and V-mon are here to lift your spirits.
Regarding of this DigiWeek, it was interesting to see various submissions from Digimon fans alike. Whether fanarts, fanfictions, or image edits. From the era where internet was not as booming as now, Digimon fans have been expressing their interests with various fanworks (even character shrines). Even with the lack of such fansites nowadays, there is still another way to express their interests (and also headcanons+fan theories). Seeing those submissions, I cannot help but think, “Man, they’re awesome! I wanna create such kind of thing someday!”. Digimon fans are truly golden (of course we have to exclude drama such as the infamous shipping wars).
Also, why Daisuke and V-mon? The answer is simple. Inspired by the upcoming 02 movie, I wanted to test my skills in drawing him, except this is about his adult self. As I finished this, I could not help but think, “Wow, Daisuke is evolving to a cool man. Yet his spirit inside is the same old Daisuke who inspires others and has forward thinking about everything. I think V-mon is the same: being a lil’shit who shares an incredible bond with Daisuke. And they surely evolve. I know that.”.
Hopefully, the fandom perception of Daisuke improves and starts seeing him in positive light in the wake of the upcoming 02 movie.
Rant: nowadays there are fans that still consider Takeru as a better leader than Daisuke in 02 since he was a veteran, more experienced, badass with angst, and has a girlfriend, while Daisuke is not suited as a leader. I know that it was posted on 2020 (and it was based on the atrocious English dub version that was infamous for its character assassination of 02 characters). Still, it disappoints me that the character slandering of Daisuke still exists nowadays. Give this boy appreciation, seriously.
Also @digiweek Day 7 - Free Day Fieldtrip (I hate that I missed it and I really wanted to contribute at least something)
Lately, the entirety of Digimon isn't getting me excited the way it used to do. Even the new 02 movie's sneak peek didn't get me that hyped the way I saw others were and it made me incredibly sad and to a certain point even left out...
It truly bothers me, because I do miss the fandom, the community and interactions. So, being on vacation as we speak, I sat down in the car on the passenger's seat, on my way to Austria towards my beloved mountains, surrounded by the beauty of Germany's Black Woods, to think of what exactly brought me back to the Digimon-hype a little over one and a half year ago.
I found it was fanfiction that eventually led me to the reboot. So on this 1st (2nd... I'm a day late, blame writers block) of August, Odaiba Memorial Day, while I initially had different plans and ideas, I found myself writing the following.
A careful try getting out of my Digimon-block with a short little thing. Enjoy~
Digiweek Day 7 - Free day | Characters: Taichi Yagami (vague mentions of the others) | words: 579 | Setting: Digimon Adventure: 2020, Summer Camp in episode 3
Pic + edit by me (Schwarzwald, Badener Höhe, Germany)
Snow in August
Looking around, all Taichi saw were rocky trails zigzagging their way up along trees. The goggles around his neck had been hanging there since this morning and though everything was new and unknown, a feeling of familiarity had struck him. It was all vague, but oddly familiar all the same. The goggles around his neck traveled up to his head, the glass reflecting the shimmers of light seeping through the green leaves, dashingly providing all that was there with light, love and liveliness. Including himself.
He had no idea where he was going, or why he was going. He only knew he was and that something inexplicable had pulled him towards here. It had ogled at him from a distance, lured him in without it feeling suspicious or scary. It was sheer excitement and curiosity that made him follow the unknown path, all the way up, over meandering paths paved with rocks and dirt. It was the adventure that had kicked in, the want and need to get more, go higher. Be courageous. He had something to fight for.
Once up that hill, still unclear of what had brought him here, unsure of what he had to find or see, he knew he had to wait. His peers often called him impatient, though he knew he was not. Especially at times like these he knew he had to wait. And so he would.
Maybe he was chosen, even though he was just a child. Just like he had been chosen to fall into that strange digital realm, meeting the yellow-orangy dinosaur, facing threats in there, accompanying the mysterious blonde boy… He had been destined to shake the hand of his bright newfound friend. They had been destined to literally trip and catch in front of his female teammate and friend.
They had all been coincidences, encounters by any chance, nothing was preconceived. It had been encounters for life, connection that were made, that were not easy to unbound. They were chosen to stay. The why, however, was a question he wasn’t been able to answer. It wasn’t complete just yet.
They weren’t complete.
Suddenly, chillness filled the air, the sun disappearing behind white clouds and a shadow crossed the valley where Summer Camp was held. Instead of it feeling like it was a threat, it was more of a welcoming change of weather.
Before he realized it, there were little crystals falling out of the sky. White dots flying and falling, not staying, just falling. Every normal kid would think it was strange, but this as well gave him that familiar feeling. A feeling of coming back home to a place, a moment in time, where he, for as far as he could remember, had never been before…
Slowly the snow continued to fall, whirling down to touch the still warm ground. It evaporated into thin air, leaving invisible damp traces fogging up his goggle’s glasses. Looking in those glasses, he saw colors; Orange and pink, green, blue, grey, red and purple and yellow. In the falling snow he saw silhouettes, one more clear than the other. Friends, known and unknown, objects, creatures, signature clothing pieces.
He wondered… He shook his head, trying to see clear again. To think and act or act, then think.
It was out of the ordinary, snow in August. But he knew, he felt, it had happened before, marking the beginning of adventure.
Taichi could do it -whatever that ‘it’ was- all over again.
