#i have to go to school tomorrow

[wish-i-were-heather]

apparently i now have bruises on either side of my mouth :((

[w1tchcr4ftt]

I need stuff to draw anybody got any ideas?

I will honestly take anything within the span of 3 hours

[itsb3anbug]

just read chapter 16 of the handmaid’s tale

to say i’m doing poorly is an understatement

[egophiliac]

Hello ! I positively adore the running joke of Idia unknowingly finding Lilia to be the coolest guy ever whenever he doesn't know it's him, like when Silver described his father, or obviously with muscle red. I can't say what'd be funnier, Idia finding out his online best friend is actually Lilia, resident spooky hyper fairy; or them both never finding out, and it'd become even more ridiculous as time goes on. How do you think it'll play out ? You're always so on point

(Also, though it makes sense, I'm still devastated bat boy didn't get a ticket for the Halloween skeleton train : ( does anyone mentions him at some point ? Like how he'd have fit right in with all those Halloween town little freaks, and how he'd have impressed them with his spooks and scared techniques; after all he's been every Briar Valley's children worst fear on Halloween for centuries. I'm on the eng server and I didn't wanna spoil myself by watching the whole thing on youtube)

Have a nice day !

you and me both, Idia and Lilia being oblivious online BFFs (+ Idia being incredibly intimidated any time Silver brings up his jock gamer dad) is my favorite running joke/subplot. 🤝 it's SO good, to the point where I also am unsure if I actually want it to ever be resolved or not...maybe, like, as a post-canon stinger or something? everyone's standing around covered in overblot ink, and Idia and Lilia's phones go off at the same time...

(legit I do think this is part of why Idia couldn't be present for Lilia's dream, because for some reason Lilia decided he was going to just. embody his past self online. he probably quotes his own battle strategies or whatever in the middle of boss fights. Idia didn't pick up on the whole "oh how weird that we both live on a super remote island" thing, but he would spend thirty seconds listening to General Lilia describing siege warfare and be like "w-wait")

all that aside, however it does end up happening, I do see Lilia being very blasé and all "oh! cool!" about it. y'know, taking it very much in stride! and Idia...very much not.

(can't tell if tumblr is going to chew this into illegibility or not, this will be a fun surprise ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ)

as for Lilia sadly missing out on Halloweentown shenanigans...he does get one little mention as part of an offhand reference to the light music club, but so far no one has brought up how this basically is just Lost In the Book of Liliatown (Sebek's been too busy yelling about not getting to be in the same group as Malleus). 😔 honestly though, it's probably for the best that he got left out, because he would just settle right in and refuse to ever leave. canon would shatter. we would miss out on all the delightful angst of episode 7 because Lilia is too busy eating poisonous shrubbery inbetween practicing his very best screams, and no one can pull him away from it.

(I can hope for a sequel next year though...)

[taiam1r]

I would’ve drawn the crossroad npcs too but I TIRED💔 give me one million business weeks trust me /j

[angelforever]

from @abordeanbeautyqueen ౨ৎ

[itslilacokay]

CHOSENWEEK DAY 4&5 : FESTIVAL + FLIGHT

i dunno, this was just a little what if hehe

oh im not done yet! have another combined day

CHOSENWEEK DAY 6&7 : COMFORT + FREEDOM (glitch/flashing warning)

this one ive thought of for a whiiile while! you see my vision right guys

okay see you all on finale day!

[thepunkmuppet]

hey. hey don’t cry. magnus protocol every single thursday for 40 straight weeks starting in two days.

[starry-bi-sky]

my body's aching like a knock-down drag-out

and my poor heart is an open wound A Childhood Friends Au snippet that very briefly delves into Danny's life post-accident. CW: Mild Mentions of Blood, Violence, VERY mild gore ig. Danny briefly recalls getting impaled during a fight.

------------

What they don't tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it can hurt. That it can hurt more than when you were alive. That when you die, the emotions you die with stick with you like a leech that just won't let go. That emotions are ugly little thorns that stick their barbs into you and grow beneath your skin; or, at least, whatever’s left of it. 

Danny is familiar with anger. It kept him warm in Gotham, when his parents weren't home from work and he and Jason were crowding Crime Alley with their presence. It kept him warm in Amity, when the fresh sting of moving was still needling into his heart and he wanted nothing more than to rip and tear into the closest person next to him.

He's familiar with violence. With fights. With death. He's seen people die in Crime Alley probably every day. From overdose, from gunshots, from stab wounds; anything that can kill, rest assured he's seen it. He's familiar with getting his own knuckles rough and bloody when other kids turn and bare their teeth at him and Jason; they're all just starving dogs stuck in a fighting pit, primed and ready to rip out each other's throats. 

Black eyes, stomped hands, bloody noses. You name it; he’s had it. Gotham is paved with the blood of her children, and Danny likes to imagine that when he was born, the doctors handed his mother a file and told her; “Take it. He’s going to need it for his teeth.” 

Danny’s mom (and dad, for that matter) was too busy trying to keep him and Jazz fed, so Danny stole the file from her drawer with Jazz’s help, and did it himself.  

He’s familiar with anger, he thought he was getting better at it these days. It doesn’t come to him as easily as it did before. Of course, that was before Jason died. 

Danny is less familiar with grief. Caring kills and Gotham kills the caring, so Danny cares very little about other people. Or he tries to. But grief hurts. His grief hurts. It hurts too much. It hurts like a bug trying to crawl out of his chest; like a rat chewing a hole through his heart. Some days he wants to dig his hands into his hair and split himself down the middle. Some days he just wants to scream. 

He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead. 

He wants the whole city to hear him wailing, some days. It sticks itself in the back of his throat like bile, and Danny is one wrong retch away from letting it loose. It sticks in his lungs like all the tar he’s smoked in since he was nine. It pushes and aches at his temples, in his head, like his brain is trying to swell out of his skull. His thoughts becoming so loud they threaten to commandeer his tongue.  

He has no mouth, but he must scream. 

Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it hurts more than when you were alive. Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it’s violent. That it’s bloody. Or as bloody as it can be when everyone has no blood. 

Another thing they don’t tell you about being dead, is that it’s a lot like Gotham that way.

With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies forget death itself. Blood comes easy, like water, and teeth are encouraged. Bring your own fangs to the fight. Dying is something you can just walk off. 

Danny’s been dead for three months. He can’t say he’s been walking it off easy. He’s perfected the art of turning his nails into claws since his heart was still beating, but he can’t say he’s perfected fighting other ghosts. 

Scrappy is just not enough. 

He feels like he’s back in Gotham again. Back in her death-shroud alleyways, fighting someone bigger than him. But there’s no Jason to watch his back, and Danny has to get himself out of there alone. Or he might just not get up at all. 

Black eyes, busted lips. It’s familiar to him like an old scent, Danny isn’t quite sure that he’s missed it. It’s more familiar than his fights with Dash. 

But there’s no one else who can do it but him. Not Sam, not Tucker. He can’t lose them too. He can’t. He can’t. He can’t. His heart can’t take another break, he already feels like he’s going insane. 

With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies fight like death themself. He learns why when Technus puts a street sign through his stomach one day. It pins him to the asphalt like a moth pinned by its wings. 

Danny claws at the metal like how an animal caught in a trap chews off its leg, and every move is blinding pain. He thinks he was howling, but it’s hard to tell. He couldn’t recognize the sound of his voice. 

He bleeds green. It mixes in black with the pitch blackhole in his heart, which throbs and twists and cries in time with his reckless panic. The finger-choking terror of dying again strangles out the air he doesn’t need. His blood evaporates, only to reabsorb into him. It just bleeds out again, cycling like a snake eating its own tail. 

Danny breaks his nails clawing at the metal, and eventually gets it in his mind to pull it out. So he does, and the end drips ectoplasm green as he gets to his feet. In red-vision, Danny sends the sign back with snarling, vicious fervor. The pain is irrelevant in his rage.

Only after the fight does the hole the pole left start to close. Danny doesn’t shift human until it’s gone. Unlike other injuries, a scar stays behind. Ugly; mottled, it aches for a week with every twist and stretch his body makes. He hates it. 

Being dead is agony. 

Every part of him is in pain. Every step, every word he speaks, everything he does, it is prerequisite with pain. The body is temporary, but the soul is forever, and death has carved into it with its freezing green hands and left him with never-ending heartache. It has torn from him and stolen what of him it could, and in return it’s left him with sorrow. 

His pain is his grief, and he’s sobbed in the safety of his room more times than he can count. It’s still as fresh as the day he heard the news of Jason’s death. He knows, instinctively, that it will stay fresh forever. 

In his room, Danny shoves his hands over his mouth and shrieks in whatever, muffled way he can into his pillow. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. He needs to be louder. He needs to be heard. He refuses to be. 

Being dead hurts. 

[ghostorbz]

I bought nasb today

[cloud-ya]

autumn thinking

[pluck-heartstrings]

There are so many DCA artists I want to be friends with, or closer friends with.

I want... Draw with friends ✨✨✨✨

[jjjacobine]

FUCK JUST NARROWLY MISSED SIGNALIS RELEASE ANNIVERSARY BUT IM POSTING ANYWAY

HAPPY ANNIVERASRY SIGNALIS!!!!!!

[demigod-of-the-agni]

some memes to help me cope because i am god's strongest soldier

[youreyeson1y]

when no one is around, you'll find me on my tallest tiptoes (shining just for you)

pairing: bang chan x reader (you/your)

title: mirrorball by taylor swift (album: folklore)

cw: swearing, mental health (reader is emotionally drained)

synopsis: sometimes someone just needs to show up for you to realise that maybe even the end of the world doesn't sound so bad if they're with you. or, where chan sends you a text that makes you break down.

tags: comforttt, chan being the absolute sweetheart that he is, reader is the silent type who doesn't prefer talking about their struggles, unedited, lowercase intended, relationship is not defined so can imagine it however y'all want 🤍

author's note: this was heavily self indulgent because sometimes you just need the reassurance that it'll be fine. so to anyone that needs to hear it, whatever you're struggling with now, you'll just look back on it in the long run and be proud of yourself. i love you, and my dms are always open if you wanna talk <3

word count: 0.9k

enjoy !

"did you eat today?"

it was just a text. just a single text.

but you were surprised to see teardrops on your phone screen as you stared at those words for a solid ten minutes.

it was nothing out of the ordinary; chan was always checking up on you, making sure you were hydrated, got home safe, or anything and everything else.

but sitting in the hallway in front of your apartment door, with messy hair and crumpled up pieces of papers in your bag and your glasses resting on the top of your head, covered with dirty fingerprints... you felt pathetic.

chan was the one managing a world famous band, he was the one constantly producing songs or brainstorming ideas or working on their demanding choreography.

as you absent-mindedly scrolled up your chat, it was him who was constantly checking up on you and asking you the simplest things that held the deepest meaning.

and what were you doing?

letting some mundane crisis wear you out and come back to being the person you had tried so hard to escape.

the silent vibration of your phone made you wipe your tears with a shaky breath, and accept the call request with a smile on your face.

"hey man, how was practice toda—"

"i'm coming over with your favourite take-out, and you're gonna shut the fuck up for once and let me treat you."

"chan..." inhale. exhale. you could not allow yourself to cry in front of him.

he already had a lot on his plate with the comeback, he didn't need you to add on to that and ma—

"and if you need to, we can talk about your day, and i can tell you about mine, and we can laugh about the stupid things me and the boys did or how steve has been pissing you off these days,  or we can just not say anything and eat and go to bed. how's that sound, love?"

what did you ever do to deserve this man?

"where are you, chan? i miss you."

the elevator dings, making you look up and exhale, your whole body instantly relaxing at the sight of him.

"i'm right where you need me to be." he smiles, his dimples and tiny nose scrunch making your insides ache.

"i'm sorry," you almost felt bad because of how good it felt, having someone you care about meet you halfway. being taken care of. "you're probably so tired after practice, you really didn't have to..."

you didn't want to be a burden, but looking at the way his gaze softened and his shoulders relax as you meet his eyes, you realise...

maybe you could help carry each other's burden; together.

chan placed his bag on the ground and crouched down on the floor beside you, mirroring your position.

he saw your tear streaked face, and you remember telling him once how cringey you found it when male leads would enter like knights in shining armour and save the helpless maidens.

you wish you hadn't, because you really needed the saving right now.

chan smiled.

"you know," he started, taking your glasses from your head and wiping them on his shirt. "i had a pretty shitty day today. i mean, it wasn't that bad, but i feel like i could've done much better, that i couldn't give my best. and maybe we couldn't finish recording today because of my mistakes. but the weird thing is, i realised that i wanted to say that to you. and you know how much i hate letting people know that i messed up." he chuckled.

he gently puts the glasses on your face, making you look at him.

"i wanted to let you know that i didn't do well today because i knew you would not just cheer me up, but tell me to do better next time.

i sent you that text purely out of selfish motives, so that i could get a chance to talk to you. so honestly, you don't have to feel bad."

you hadn't even spoken a word since he'd arrived, but it felt like he understood you better than you could've ever put it into words.

"plus, i was craving some chinese anyway." he stood up, reaching out his hand to you. "so, are you gonna make me wait outside the whole night, or are we gonna get in?"

"chan," you felt... love. adoration. gratitude. he did have a way of making you feel things you didn't know you could feel anymore. "did you get those complimentary starters they give? i will simply not let you in if you haven't."

as you saw him finally flash his biggest smile at you, you knew you would be okay.

"who do you take me for? of course i did! and i was going to wait till desert but they may have given me a little somethin-somethin on the house as they were closing up their shop."

it didn't matter what you both talked about as you sat down to have cold take out food; why you felt like punching steve or how chan was having the time of his life trolling stays on his lives.

at the end of the day, what mattered was you knew he was there, someone to listen to you talk for hours and hours and someone he could fall asleep in the arms of, forgetting for a moment that he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

and thats how you know it would all be okay.

because even if it felt like the end of the world, there was someone willing to spend it with you.

a/n: comments and reblogs are what keeps me going so they are highly appreciated, thank you !

if you're going through something similar, please feel free to reach out to anyone, remember, there are people out there who love you more than you may realise.

untill next time 💌

bang chan masterlist

[wackpedion]

this is how teachers who insist i always do the homework look like to me