#i have So Much to say

[vulcanette]

jaws from the ritual at denver summit; november 23, 2019;

🎥: angelus

[i-eat-mold]

Do you ever think about whether Oda ever received a call in the middle of the night from Dazai? How Oda knew dazai was just too stubborn to ask anyone for help. Maybe just once he was worried about the kid, he said ‘to call him if he ever needed him, he didn’t even have to tell him why, if dazai called him he’d go and get him, any time, anywhere’. How Dazai brushed it off with a joke, but one night Oda receives a call in the middle of the night and when he sees the caller ID his heart drops, and as promised, Oda gets in the car and speeds out to get Dazai without a single word needed to be spoken. Do you ever think about how many nights Oda might have lost sleep because he was worried about this kid? and how he’d never forgive himself if he needed him but he wasn’t awake to pick up his call? Do you ever think about how oda might have looked at this boy and thought “how can they not see he’s just a kid? How can they see him as a demon? As a monster? All I see is a scared, alone little kid. How can they not see this? How can they not think it’s inhumane to let him live in a literal metal container?” Ever think how he saw the empty eyes of this kid and wanted to take him in? Give him a warm meal? A hug? A real bed? Ever think how he must’ve felt knowing he was his only real friend, and how he must have felt when he was dying in this kids arms, this lonely, sad, messed up kids arms, leaving him behind? How he cared so deeply about this kid that his final words were to plea him to get out of that darkness, to seek light? Ever think about how proud he must be of this kid, now grown, for staying alive and taking in other lost children the way he wanted to take him in? Ever think of that?

[madbard]

Headcanon that Dust absolutely resents how much he resembles Classic. There are elements of this back in Dusttale, with how Dust prefers to hide his face and identity while building his LV, but this is more out of practicality (and even shame) than anything else. He doesn’t want his victims to recognize him because it’ll make it harder for him to sneak up on people, and a part of him really doesn’t want them to know that he was the one who killed him. The longer this goes on, the more his disguise transforms from a way of hiding his shame to a way of distancing himself from who he used to be. Sans would never kill all those people, but he isn’t Sans anymore. He’s not really a person anymore, he is the act of murder itself. He is Dust.

I think this would get way worse when Dust leaves his AU and enters the multiverse though, because right off the bat he encounters murderers, just like him… who don’t look innocent. Horror, Killer and even Cross are set completely apart from who they used to be. They are scarred and twisted and nightmarish. Looking at them doesn’t trigger memories of a happier, innocent past. They have renamed themselves, taken on a new identity - but for them, this change was physical as well. No one will ever mistake them for Sans.

So Dust wears his hood. He hides his face. He keeps his magic burning constantly, because if he stops his eyes will darken and there will be nothing setting him apart from the monster who died, years ago, the first time a knife ripped through his chest. The others realize it, too… Horror probably wouldn’t care either way. Cross would understand the desire to distance oneself from an old identity, but would ultimately be in a similar boat as Horror. Killer would bring this up to taunt Dust once he realized it bothered him - and would quickly get bored with it. Ultimately, the others would just accept Dust’s refusal to show his face, his hatred of his own voice and reflection, as part of who he is.

I like to imagine that one day, the gang get into a serious combat. It’s vicious and close; both sides are bloody and exhausted by the time it’s over. If one side wins, it’s by a hair, and not much of a victory. In the dazed silence following the battle, Nightmare slowly assesses each of his acolytes, ensuring that they are still alive and intact. When he reaches Dust, he pauses. The assassin is bloodied, slumped over. His HP is steady but low; he’s taken a lot of hits - more than most monsters would have been able to survive. His hand vanishes beneath his hood, carefully inspecting his face. That night, back at the castle, Dust steps in front of a mirror. He takes a deep breath and, for the first time in years, removes his hood to look his reflection in the eye. The combat left deep wounds across his face, injuries that would never heal completely, that would leave him permanently scarred.

Dust looks at his battered reflection and smiles.

[ittybittyremy]

Dorian: I hate to beg a favour. I've never begged.

Dorian: I think at first I lock up, as I tend to do with really physical affection of any kind

Also Dorian: I could never ask anything of you. But tonight, may I simply hold you? I want nothing more. Just let me comfort you for once, please.

[barbieaemond]

It’s quite simple I need to sink my teeth in and shake him like a rabid dog

[wickedwitchofthesouth]

The feminine urge to write an atyd level fic for new gen Harry Potter where the slytherins have their own marauders-esque friend group and scorpius and albus are the main focus ship. UGHHHHH THE URGUE TO WRITE A FATHER SON ARC FOR AL AND HARRY THAT GOES INTO DETAIL ABOUT HARRYS TRAUMA AND HOW IT EFFECTS HIS PARENTING!! The heavy looming weight of the urge to write a strained sibling relationship for James and albus because they are THEE prodigal son and the cursed child.

THE WAY I WOULD WRITE THE PERFECT FRIENDS TO LOVERS FOR SCOR AND AL . the way I would add the best oc who the fandom will fall in love with and regard as canon for years to come UGHHHH

[sapphicseasapphire]

I don’t know if I’ll ever actually use this little secret code in my comics but I want you to know that it exists.

For the Cryptid au, Mer language is very much based in music. Songs. Legend has different melodies for all of the Links- songs that exist in their respective games- that function as their names to him. Ravio is called by his theme, Marin is called by the Ballad of the Windfish.

Legend has two names in his own language: one that was given to him by his Pod and one that was given to him by Ravio. The one given by his Pod is a deadname, he’s not allowed to use it anymore since he was banished. Ravio calls him by the “First Search” theme from Link’s Awakening, and that’s what he answers to now.

He also gave Ravio his second name, since poor Rav was too little to remember his first one.

Legend is unfairly good at singing. Poor Ravio’s voice is all scratchy and hoarse- he hasn’t used his native language since he fled his home. He was five years old. He’s very out of practice. Legend gives him vocal lessons until he’s able to hold a proper conversation in Merspeak.

… I love these two so much

[kev-day]

thinking about kevin growing up in the nest and having to learn defense mechanisms to literally survive but are now the main criticisms his teammates have against him. and no one (besides jean) really know the fully extent of what he went through bc of the public persona and brick wall of self preservation he had to put up.

like he’s an asshole perfectionist about exy bc it was literally beat into him since childhood. running in 16 hour days since who knows how young he was and deprived of food and sleep when a drill was not performed perfectly

the world saw him and riko as brothers but riko was never kind to him. he hated playing the role as second best but it’s how he could make it through each day with one less injury. he was on eggshells nearly every second of the day because he was almost never out of riko’s sight. he learned how how navigate every mood until riko became too unhinged to navigate and by then he was so trapped in his role that he couldn’t fight back from riko and he couldn’t let the team know that he wasn’t just number 2 but he was a pet to riko. he was a bitch to his teammates to distract from what riko was doing to him and jean but also from so much built up anger inside for the person he could not escape

[mizuski-pirat]

Pac stealing Fit's blood homoerotically the other day gave me an idea for a Mad scientist AU :0

I definitely don't have the skill to do anything with it so if anyone wants to adopt it feel free lmao

I might explode into brainrot about it on here occasionally tho 👍

Think combination Frankenstein+ Monster and Capitan America style scientifically created supersoldier... But reverse.

So Pac is a scientist who specializes in chemistry and biology (with a dash of mechanics... Unless Mike handles that) who recently signed up to rehabilitate, heal, and re-humanize chemically-created supersoldiers after the end of a recent war (because leaving them crippled, traumatized, and dehumanized in more ways than one is no way to honor them for their service... As long as they're no longer of good use)

Fit was a particularly powerful and infamous super soldier, one of the first actually. (So leaving him on active duty would be seen as a threat to other countries). But... Beyond that, he's also very very badly injured.

Becoming a chemical and partly mechanical monstrosity isn't exactly good for you, so it's sort of expected that even if you don't die during the transformation process, you'll either die sometime afterwards or at least much earlier than the regular human life expectancy. Going through a whole damn war definitely didn't help. (I'm thinking maybe blown up by specially designed "End" crystal explosions at least 35786543 times). So by the time the war was over, he was more or less found in an explosion-torn ditch in the middle of the wasteland, surrounded by corpses, entirely unable to move, and in constant unimaginable pain (he's still pretty much in constant pain all the time btw. Everything hurts). There's little-to-no chance he'll ever fight again.

This is where Pac comes in.

[local-lover-boy]

Isn't it crazy and beautiful how we learn stuff and grow, because we've loved? I know who p1harmony is because I had a crush on a girl who was really into k-pop. I studied Norse mythology because I desperately liked someone who thought it was interesting. I know who Jonnie Gilbert is bc my partner loves him. I learned about ley lines because I liked a boy who thought they were interesting. I know every word to about 20 mitski songs because I wanted to relate to a girl I was into so badly. I know MHA lore like the back of my hand without having seen it in years because a past lover of mine cherished it deeply. I love cherry coke because it was suggested to me by a man I was infatuated with when I was 11. I found out bunnies can scratch you because I liked a girl who had a scar from her bunny under her eye. I studied color blindness because I wanted to impress a boy I was in love with. I take pride in my birth name because a boy I loved liked the sound of it. I hold all of these things and wonder if I am really a person or a body trying to preserve love.

A/N Since I wrote this poem, I fell out of love with someone and reconnected with someone else, this life has my head spinning

[thenightshadowqueen]

Rewatching the Manchester show because I love Locomotion, and I don’t have much to say except holy shit how does Tom contort his body like that?

[gncbozo]

They're so bestie material <3

[sparfloxacin]

don’t talk to me

[mjfass]

The fact that it makes him look even more badass…

[a-driftamongopenstars]

hello for the fic requests i am,,, humbly asking for some young wolf & ghost relief post-tfs. maybe an escape to a serene corner of the pale heart or something to just. sit together. or something 🙏🙏

i just finished tfs like an hour ago i am inconsolable. sorry

aough!! i send you many hugs to get through the post-tfs phase, it hurt so good, didn't it 😭 here's a little ficlet! also on ao3

In the many memory-touched places within the Pale Heart, the Guardian and their Ghost find something that looks like home.

It is a corner to lick their wounds, that are still bleeding inside out, words and tears and waves of tremendous relief. Whatever transpired after they defeated the Witness, whatever miracle, whatever choices they've made, they walked out a different people. Not better, not worse. Just different.

The heart of the Traveler pulses with a gentle light in response. It, too, needs healing. Its cries have stopped. Something serene settles like a blanket over the land. A catharsis.

The Guardian's fingers gently clutch around the Ghost's shell. Under their fingertips, the metal is cool but full of life and Light. They feel their connection with the Ghost, that bond that even death could not break.

The Guardian sighs and watches as the waterfalls fill the bottomless seas of the Traveler. So much life. The Ghost shivers, the petals of its frame moving gently, as if trying to press to the Guardian in his own little way.

Neither says anything. The Guardian feels their voice lost in their throat, where tightness sits and burns with unbidden tears. They clutch the Ghost and bring him closer to their heart. Their fingers trace the surface where cracks, now gone, bled with Light.

The heart pulses again, and in a wave of relief washes over the Guardian and the Ghost, wiping the tears, comforting their souls.

A silver hawk flies above them, disappearing inside the clouds.

When the Guardian looks down, meeting the Ghost's eye, they share an understanding. "I am yours, and you are mine". It was always supposed to be like that, from the moment the Ghost's Light found his Guardian, from the moment he breathed life and Light into old bones.

And through miracle and choices, it can continue for a while longer.

But for now, the Guardian smiles at the Ghost and looks up towards the horizon. Somewhere there, a future awaits.

[micahmorphs]

Some days "arf" is not enough, so excuse me while I BARKBARKBARKRUFFRUFFBARKBAKRKRUFRUFFRUFBARKBAKRBARKBARKWOOFWOOFRUFRUFWOOFBARKBAKRBAKRKBAKRBARKWOOFRUFBARKBARK