anticidic

[anticidic]

Everything happens in halves

[anticidic]

Writing is so fucking stupid. I had a scene pop into my head and now I’ve spent the last year and 100k words creating the necessary contextual plot/character depth to earn the emotion in that scene. Ridiculous. Absurd. Why.

[anticidic]

If I was in a fanfiction and started coughing up flowers while working at a flower shop (because this is a flower shop au) I would NOT connect my crush on the tattoo artist next door to the flower cough situation. I would freak the fuck out and think the pollen at work was doing some Last of Us shit to me, quit my job and move FAR away. inadvertently my flame for the tattoo artist would fade with distance, solving my hanahaki situation and proving my 'the flowers were trying to turn me into a plant zombie' theory

[anticidic]

came in like a dream, put it down like a smoke

we used to be a team, now we let each other go

[anticidic]

夕暮れ時の高瀬川の街並み // Takasegawa cityscape at dusk

[anticidic]

[anticidic]

CHUUYA!!!! and his bike

[anticidic]

Secretly Married SKK HC

Thinking about secretly married SKK headcanon with hidden rings (thansk Ene) Dazai keeps his ring on a chain under his shirt, close enough that it rests against his heart. Chuuya hides his under his glove, never taking it off unless Corruption forces him to. It’s their secret tether, a promise kept quiet in a world that wants to take everything from them. Now imagine: Dazai getting kidnapped (again). He’s tied up, bruised and bloodied, but still smiling that lazy, infuriating little smile because that’s what he does. Which, of course, only pisses his captors off more. So they go further—ripping away his coat, tearing at the bandages, stripping him of every layer he wears like armor. And then they freeze. Because there, catching the dim light, is a silver band resting against his chest. “Didn’t take you for the sentimental type,” one sneers. “Who’s the unlucky one?” The words have barely left their mouth when the walls shudder. A low tremor ripples through the floor, followed by the distant boom of an explosion. Dust shakes loose from the ceiling. Another blast follows, closer this time—the lights overhead flicker, pipes groan, the air feels charged like a storm about to break. The room goes tense, hushed. Nervous glances pass between the men. They know that kind of power. Everyone in the underworld knows who carves paths like that. But none of them say it aloud, not yet. And Dazai... Dazai just lowers his gaze to the ring swaying faintly against his ribs. His lips twitch, like he’s the only one in on the joke. When he finally speaks, his voice is soft, almost bored, but the words cut with a weight that lands in the gut: “Mm. Unlucky’s close… but no. I’d call him catastrophic. And my husband.” The third blast snuffs the lights out completely. Darkness floods the room. And right on cue, the chaos begins.

[anticidic]

This has been a topic in one of my discord groups today and I’m so curious what everyone’s approach is as a writer.

Writing linearly means starting at the beginning of the story and writing each scene in chronological order from beginning to end.

Writing non-linearly means you might start midway through the story and write the beginning later, or you might write scenes at random and join them up later, or you add in placeholders as you write to go back to later (like “add action scene here”).

Outlining means coming up with a sequence of plot points to guide the story - i.e. planning/mapping out what the main story beats will be throughout it.

Personally I’m a linear writer, and I don’t outline. I have a loose idea of where the story is going to go, but that’s it. And I can’t skip scenes or use placeholder text — my brain starts shrieking at me lmao.

[anticidic]

first time doin one of these, for lotus’ 5k dtiys. congrats @lotus-pear !!! :D

[anticidic]

big year for letting time pass you by

[anticidic]

Hahaha not me breaking my year and a half art block becuase Bungo Stray Dogs has me in a choke hold --- anyways enjoy Suokoku :))

[anticidic]

guess who was up until 5 am focusing on the wrong thing instead of finishing writing 😭 this gal

I was making transparent pngs of manga panels for potential graphics for the zine then I couldn't stop playing around with fonts and the bg and and

but I do actually need to write today and not swerve to the wrong thing (once again) because this also suddenly happened in the middle of writing starchuu au:

“Pretty flowers,” the clone remarked with a nod, leaning in closer to look at the petals. He reached out to touch them as if tempted like a child who knew he shouldn't, then looked up at Chuuya with a sheepish smile and lowered his hand.

“Yeah. They are, aren't they?” They're not too bad, more specifically. Flowers were, well, flowers. He had seen them many times in the past up until now. Trampled in the slums. Blooming in the spring. All around him. Going a day without seeing any was like going a day without seeing grass—impossible and nothing special.

“They remind me of the flowers that used to grow in the lab.”

Chuuya's face fell and he gripped the flowers tighter, almost crushing them in his fist.

The clone continued to smile, and Chuuya didn't know if it was a pained or genuinely happy one recalling a memory that he thought was horrible. All Chuuya knew was that it hurt to look at himself like that.

[anticidic]

so deeply entrenched in flower language that it just. weaves its way into my writing

A book on poetry came between them, Chuuya’s head bowed so low and so absorbed in reading that all Dazai saw was a splash of red hair. He leafed through several pages, either continuing to ignore the question or giving it thought while Dazai tapped his fingers against his mug and looked away at the wall behind Chuuya.

He really likes that book. Dazai almost felt bad for disturbing him with small-talk that was ultimately meaningless, but it meant the world to him to have an answer to that.

“Only people who wish very strongly for something get their wishes granted,” Chuuya finally said, setting the book down to give Dazai his undivided attention.

“I get that, but I mean, why me? There’s plenty of people out there making wishes on a daily basis and wishing stronger than me.”

“There’s no shortage of stars out there listening to wishes, just as there’s no shortage of people down here making them. I’m only one of countless, like you.” Chuuya reached for his own mug and pulled it toward him, close to the chest. Steam rose from it, carrying the aroma of jasmine blossoms. Sweet and floral. His eyes appeared glassy yet vibrant today, reflecting a rosy color that reminded Dazai of the weeping plum trees down by the park.

If Dazai had to guess, Chuuya looked content. At peace. But he always seemed like he had something on his mind bothering him, holding him back in his mind while he had one foot out the door to reality. And Dazai tried countless times to pry it out of him, to no avail.

Being stuck under this roof twiddling my thumbs for something to happen has given me too much time to think.

“And you help lost people find their way, huh?” Dazai murmured, bringing the mug to his lips for a sip. Every time he looked at Chuuya, their eye contact didn’t last long before his attention drifted back to the wall. To a framed photo of himself between his parents. The three of them all smiles.

[anticidic]

Today is Motorcycle Day in Japan, so honorary Happy Motorcycle Day to our most famous motorcycle enthusiast: Chuuya

[anticidic]

fenmuru's chinese palette 🐯🐲

[anticidic]

Marguerite Duras, from The Easy Life

Text ID: I was no one, I had neither name nor face. Moving through August, I was: nothing.