#still very angsty though

[woofberry]

Hi :)

I was just wondering how many works you've posted on ao3 bc I could only find one and I can't tell if that's bc smth is wrong with my thing or if you really have only posted one (it's ok if that's the case!! I just want to make sure that's all)

Hi there! I have posted a few other works in the past (mostly six the musical stuff though) but I ended up orphaning them since I wasn’t planning on continuing them and I didn’t exactly want those fics to be my only legacy gshsbbd

[kindaasrikal]

I really need to know whether Morro’s green hair streak has a deeper significance than just the whole Green Ninja thing. Morro had that hair streak since he was a child on streets, meaning it’s likely he never had the money to actually go out and buy hair dye. With no knowledge of Morro’s birth parents or how long he was actually on the streets, its safe to assume that Morro was on the streets since very young.

Why would a child on the streets buy, let alone steal, hair dye that was just oh so conveniently green?

Now hear me out, i genuinely think Morro’s hair streak is natural. I lowkey think that one small section of his hair was always green, and if it was, then why was it always green?

Please i genuinely need a canon comic on Morro and these small details before i make my own i already have my own lore on him at this rate

[theprinceandthewitch]

I really do find it incredibly irritating how TOH plays all sides of the shipping board just because they don't want to upset shippers.

It's why you get Evelyn looking more like Luz than Willow - it's also why her face is never shown. Even if Dana didn't want to get into the Caleb/Evelyn and Philip murder drama, there isn't any reason for her face to be obscured UNLESS the goal wasnt to upset shippers

It's why you get Luz's type of of boy being angsty warrior princes like Hunter - it's also why all of Hunter's important moments involve Luz and not Willow.

This is why you get Hunter dying and coming back to life looking like Caleb pleading with Luz to help him fight Belos in TTT, but then his entire arc culminates with him holding pinkies with Willow FTF. This is why all the interesting themes Hunter brought to the table were completely kneecapped by his relationship with Willow.

It's fucking bizarre LMAO.

[kyouka-supremacy]

Very assorted - and probably disorganized - thoughts on Akutagawa's immediate reaction on the night Dazai left the pm, since it's taken a pretty delineate shape in my mind for some time now.

I didn't use to have many strong opinions on how Akutagawa acted when Dazai left (although “unknown” uses as a concept of its own. Akutagawa disappearing, and no one knows where he was or what he did– until he comes back, but as a different man). That is up until recently, when I found this fic that described Chuuya storming to Akutagawa's place and all but threatening him to come to work the day after, and for all the days to come– and thus, urged him not kill himself. And I didn't think much about it initially, yet the scene slowly, unconsciously got ingrained in the bsd canon I have in my mind. And although one could fairly think Chuuya was spiraling in his own depressive episode that night, I feel like it's feasible to believe he'd still look out for Akutagawa. Not because Chuuya cared about Akutagawa in particular (at that point of the story, I genuinely think he didn't experience any strong feeling of any kind for Akutagawa, much less had a general good impression of him), but simply because that's what Chuuya does: he looks out for his own. He's perceptive enough to grasp that Akutagawa was but a kid at serious risk in that moment, and he's compassionate enough to go out of his way to help him, even though they barely knew each other, even though Chuuya himself was hurting like crazy that night (and perhaps even because that's simply what he does to cope with great distress and impending grief: keeps himself busy, tries to think of others before himself).

And there was, indeed, a very real chance Akutagawa was going to kill himself that night. Maybe he wouldn't, for Gin; but I'm not even sure. Dazai was the man who told Akutagawa he would have found a reason to live in the mafia, and now he's gone, the man who himself had seemingly become his reason to live; what's left for him in life anymore, what's the point of going on?– is probably what he must have wondered.

In my mind, the Akutagawas only have had two houses since they joined the pm. The first one was a small but comfortable, nice apartment that was assigned to them by the pm right after they joined, their first proper house. The second, a bigger, more comfortable penthouse, they had to move in after Ryuunosuke completely destroyed their first one on the night Dazai left– caught up in that kind of uncontrollable rage that only comes from inhuman pain. That night, Ryuunosuke got home blind and out of reason. He asked Gin to go away, and when she refused to, he pushed her out of the house with his ability, despite having always refrained from touching her with it, despite having always paid careful attention to never use his ability near or on her. And as soon as she was out of range he started destroying everything with and without his ability, until he could see nothing but red, everywhere. And once he destroyed everything, once the only thing left to destroy was himself, he cowered in a dark angle and howled, covered in blood, unable to speak, hideous and inhuman, nothing but a rabid dog. And his scream echoed the one he released the night he met Dazai for the first time; and if that day he had experienced his first emotion, now he was feeling a second new, deeply painful one. Maybe that's when Chuuya had come in, and told him he was not allowed to kill himself; maybe Gin had called Hirotsu, and Hirotsu had called Chuuya, and Chuuya stormed in, and ordered him to come to work tomorrow. Because Chuuya is smart; because he knows that orders are something familiar for Akutagawa, something that can help ground him; because he knows Dazai is not worth killing oneself over. And Akutagawa didn't kill himself that night, and he kept hurting for a long time, but eh. Eventually, he'll be okay.

[purpurussy]

writer's block is debilitating atm. i want to write soooooooooo badly but im just sitting here staring at google docs with 0 neuron activation

[the-spooky-children]

Can't stop thinking about unhealthy co-dependent teen!fireskulls..

[bumblingbabooshka]

[TUVOKTOBER: Day 16] Mr. Human!

[singing-pterodactyl]

“Stardust”

[asfodelle]

Hello, hello, here's the first scene of the one-shot I've been writing the last few months. It's about a 'He Tian is involved in the mob and returns occasionally tho feelings never leave' situationship neither can walk out of, Mo is a boxer, there's a touch of religious themes, made myself cry writing it, it's a blast.

1. May 5th 7:12 p.m. - Bell

Before leaving the car, He Tian lets out a long sigh, blowing smoke. He should probably get to praying.

The door snaps shut, echoing in the small street he parked in. Past the intersection he hears kids chatting, going home for dinner maybe. He Tian takes a second to watch himself in the reflection of his tinted windows. He readjusts the collar of his shirt, brushes his pants wrinkled from the long hours of driving, throws his hair backwards and the damp air soon gets him to fold his sleeves up. He doesn’t look so bad, he thinks. Tired. He rubs his face with both hands to bring back some color to his cheeks, then under his eyes as if he could dim the blue tint that’s been settling there, but it doesn’t have very conclusive results. He starts walking.

The entrance of the old warehouse is slightly different from the last time he’s seen it. It looks more welcoming, but it might just be a trick of the light. The peach clouds of the spring evening just paint a nicer ambiance than the grey winter sky did, last January. The gates have been adorned by new tags that have been sprayed on top of the old faded ones and there are flyers encouraging people to join the Sunday mass down the street glued all over, though they don’t reach very high. He Tian imagines a troop of old women roaming the streets, spreading the holy word but his little game of guesswork doesn’t help him relax one bit. 

He gets in front of the door, a smaller entrance within the large sealed gate that used to let trucks in and out of the warehouse. He grips the handle for a second, takes a long inhale and gets in. His eyes slowly adjust to the dimmer lighting but he quickly notes that, contrary to its facade, the inside of the place hasn’t changed much since the last time he saw it. Between high walls of concrete and sheets of metal lie mismatched sets of equipment. Barbells, slick black punching bags, discolored benches of various sorts, a couple old bikes in the back, punch mitts forgotten over a pile of cardboards. A few training boxing rings give shape to the room, the space between them gives the illusion of corridors. The walls are covered in overlapping posters, the grey disrupted by layers on layers of paint and graffitis that even cover the high windows. They let small rays of tinted light in like the stained glass of a church, though the candles are replaced by tens of flickering LEDs lights. There are a few people here and there, busy with dumbbells or talking in their little spot but the room is so wide they can’t be heard. Stairs crawl by the walls leading to more rooms and places He Tian had never been to. Music resonates, low and muffled from a speaker somewhere in a corner.

In the middle of the room stands another ring, a bright red one standing higher than the rest, with white thick cords. When He Tian sees him, he’s sat there, on the side of the wooden platform the red ring rests on. He's listening attentively to a trio of teenagers, leaning backwards on his hands. 

Guan Shan had taken a liking to boxing in high school. A good outlet, he said, one that taught him to measure his emotions. It stuck through the years and he’s been great at it. Then he started giving advice to newcomers, to give some of spare time to help young blood he saw himself in and slowly it transformed into actual lessons and training sessions he holds after work. These kids have been coming here for a couple years now, He Tian remembers them. They are reenacting punches and kicks, arguing and giggling over different combinations and they turn to their coach for approval whenever they get a new idea. He nods along and fixes their posture a couple times, something soft in his eyes. He looks beautiful. Toned and pale as ever, the bare skin of his chest clashes with the black shorts and the tattoos that spangle his body. He Tian stands close to the entrance, leaning cross-armed, his shoulder against a pillar and keeps on watching over him though he struggles to truly appreciate the contrast of colors due to the fifth character in the scene.

A guy he doesn’t know is sitting close to Guan Shan, too close. His hair is an ugly shade of bleached blond and he keeps looking at Guan Shan whenever he speaks with big dumb eyes, mouth agape and enamored. He looks young, but maybe He Tian only feels so much older than his age. He looks stupid.

He Tian hasn’t moved but Guan Shan suddenly lifts his head and catches him right away, as if he’d known all along where he was hiding. The way his eyes widen for a second betray his surprise however but he quickly regains control over his face. It seems like he excuses himself from his little group, the blonde argues something, he wants to follow but he’s brushed away by a dismissing hand.

Guan Shan glances back to He Tian’s shadowy corner and starts moving towards the closed rooms in the back of the building, grabbing a few boxes on the way. He Tian traces behind him with a confident walk and ignores how all of his body stiffens with apprehension, every single muscle a little too tight. Guan Shan enters the room first and He Tian follows a few seconds after. He closes the door behind them. The handle creaks and his hands are sweaty.

It’s not quite messy in here, but the little office room is packed. The desk is covered with stacks of papers, cardboard boxes are neatly piled up in the back of the room; some are already opened and uncover the gloves, the tapes and bandages they hold. The window is open too, letting in the noise of the city. Guan Shan sets the boxes he carried over on top of one of the piles and gets to fumbling in his bag, almost turning his back to the door where He Tian stands.

« Hi. » he tries, and braces himself for what’s coming. 

« You know it’s fucking weird creeping in corners like this? »

He Tian pinches his lips in a thin line.

« Why are you here? » Guan Shan asks then, still busying himself in his bag. He doesn’t sound angry, just a little cold, maybe annoyed at the disturbance.

« I’ve got some business to handle in town. »

« I thought you were abroad until September. » Guan Shan muses, finding the shirt he seemed to be looking after, a large black one. He Tian follows his hands and notices he has splatters of white and red paint over his forearms, his short nails are stained too.

« The schedule is never really steady. » 

Guan Shan scoffs. He Tian know that’s a first warning but he can’t help but focus on the way his muscles jolt, on the way they flex as he flips the shirt over. He tries to not lose his eyes on the curve of his biceps. It’s a struggle. 

« I negotiated a little. » He adds « Took over Cheng’s spot. »

Little negotiations that involved a precarious alliance, three weeks of tailing for intel and a couple of threats. It was worth it.

Carefully, He Tian moves away from the door, closer to Guan Shan. He probably shouldn’t, definitely shouldn’t yet he lifts a hand and reaches out to touch his bare back. Guan Shan freezes.

« I wanted to see you. » he explains, voice low as his knuckles trace the bumps of Guan Shan’s spine. It’s daring. It might earn him a hook but the pull is magnetic.

As their routine dictates, they hadn’t parted in very good terms the last time and for that, coming back to him is always a gamble. A game of Russian roulette even and quite a dangerous version of it; one where he never even knew how many bullets were hidden in the cylinder, each of them taking a different shape. At times He Tian had handled days of scowling looks and a soft kiss that had left him bleeding out, he had received sharp words from petty fights without wincing but just the weight of Guan Shan’s rehearsed indifference could pierce his lungs and leave him breathless. He will take the hits, he does not care. It’s a game they’ve played for years now and as long as the other still accepts to pull the trigger on him, he’d take anything. After all, He Tian is the one who bound the gun to his hand in the first place.

A punch never lands this time. Guan Shan sighs, his shoulders drop then he turns around and throws his arms around He Tian’s neck, knocking the air out of him all the same. He Tian holds back tightly, and finally breathes out, his fingertips digging into hot freckled skin.

« I missed you. » He Tian whispers. What a fucking understatement. 

The arms around his neck tighten in response, only for a brief second before they hear loud noise by the door. Their embrace ends as quick as it started, Guan Shan stepping back and turning to put on the shirt he had discarded a second ago. He glares at the door, expecting it to open at any moment but thankfully, the people outside only pass by. 

« I’m training the kids all evening, and there’s a party at eleven, but I don’t think it’ll stay long. » Guan Shan says when the room has quieted down enough. 

« I’ll pick you up then. »

Guan Shan nods. That should be He Tian’s cue to leave, he has a couple things to settle tonight anyway but the other looks as if he’s pondering over something. He Tian catches how amber eyes roam over his face, for a brief moment they even settle on his mouth, but then return to the door. 

« Get lost. » he tells He Tian, tilting his head towards the door but there’s no bite into it.

When He Tian gets back to the car, his cheeks hurt. In the tinted window, his smile might look shy but it’s wider than it’s been in the last four months.

[hellsingmongrel]

So, bit of ramblings on my Post-Trimax Wolfwood headcanons.

Man, one of my favorite tropes in media is a character who's spirit lingers on after they've died, but it's usually something you only see in fanfic, so I cannot get over how FUCKING FERAL I was when I realized that it was legit a thing in Trimax, and that Wolfwood was the one we actually got to see, legitimately talking to the people he'd left behind and confirming that ghosts in the canon weren't just hallucinations or something! Like yeah, we saw Tessla leading the boys to her body, but since her ghost was never mentioned again, it could have easily have been written off as a fluke, right?

NOPE. They are real and they linger after to watch over the people they care about or to send messages to the people who are still alive! And the fact that the character who had just wormed his way into being just as beloved to me as my favorite character (Which NEVER happens, I usually only have enough brain cells for one at a time!) and that we had just had our hearts ripped to shreds watching him die was also the one we got to know had definitely stayed behind to watch over the people he loved just makes me SO HAPPY! I rp that asshole from time to time, and I just love exploring the implications of it!

I play him like he's been there a LONG TIME. When he died, Rem was there, watching over Vash, but when Knives spent the last of his energy, she chose to move on with him, now that she knew Wolfwood would be there to keep watch over Vash, and he took it SERIOUSLY. He's been waiting so long, he's lost his sense of time, he thinks it's only been a couple decades when it's been CENTURIES. And the time has softened his own trauma, he's gone from being surly and angry and defensive to being at peace and finding comfort in the fact that its allowed him to see more of Vash's life than he ever would have been able to live long enough to see when he was alive. And it's given him time to notice just how unwell Vash is, how broken he is, watching over him when he thinks he's alone and lets himself break down.

But it's also made Wolfwood a bit unwell in his own way; as time went on and the people he knew in life began to pass away, too, his interest in paying attention to what the people around them were doing wained, and his dedication to watching over Vash until it was his time to pass on became a strange sort of dependence. He loses his sense of self, in a way, until the most important thing in his existence is being there for Vash, waiting for him, having long-since accepted that when the time comes, it'll be over and he's alright with that.

He's happy, but to the perspective of a living person, it would seem TWISTED in a way. He still thinks he's a damned soul, stealing more time than he's allowed and only damning himself further by doing so, and he just knows that when he gets to walk Vash into whatever comes after for them, they'll be separated again, for the last time, and there won't be any coming back from it that time, because Vash is too good, too kind, too HOLY to ever be damned. But it's fine. Wolfwood knew he was damned long before his death, and time has just given him the chance to make peace with it and simply be happy with the fact that at least he'll be able to be with Vash when he can move on to wherever good people go at the end. And yet when it happens, Vash feels the same way about himself, so certain that he's the one who's damned, and their reunion is wonderful and painful and terrifying for both of them in different ways.

He's even worse with interacting with people, once he's forced to interact with the living. I play Wolfwood in a game where he stumbles into revealing himself after spending centuries never letting himself be seen, and he worries that going "silent" again will upset people. He's spent centuries being a silent shadow, certain that letting Vash know he was there would only cause more suffering for an already unwell mind, so he's forgotten how to interact with tact, blurting out whatever pops into his head because he's only had himself to talk to for all that time. He hurts people without meaning to, begins to suffer from the crisis of worrying that no matter what he does, he's a burden to the people who mourn him, he doesn't belong, his existence is nothing but a constant reminder of what's coming and will only cause the people around him pain. He's both able to be the kind, caring, loving person he might have been if the Eye of Michael had never taken him from the orphanage, and also a HUGE, ANXIOUS WRECK.

And the thing that makes it all worse for him is the fact that when he was dumped into the game I have him in, he was separated from the Vash of his timeline, and now lives in constant fear that he'll never see him again, that he won't be there when he passes on and there won't be anyone to greet him on the other side, alone and never knowing that he was waiting for him. He made a promise to Rem that he'd watch over him for her, that he'd lead him to his final destination where he could be with his family again, and now that he's lost that, what purpose does he have? He's terrified to let go himself, worried he'll pass onto the other side when Vash was right around the corner, but the thought of lingering without finding him again, missing his chance to be there for him when it's his turn, leaves him in an almost constant state of almost-panic.

I also just think it's kind of sweetly poetic, if in the end, he chose to continue the role he'd been forced into; take Vash where he's supposed to be. Only this time, it's his choice, and it won't be to his death. He wants to guide him to where he knows people are waiting for him, where he'll finally be happy and be at peace. He doesn't mind the fact that he's going to Hell, so long as he was able to be the one that leads Vash to the place where he won't have to be in pain ever again.

[starcrossedpaladins]

I have so many klance fic ideas and I want to finally start writing some. they are all super cliche and full of tropes. I want some opinions and motivation to actually write and post something.

feel free to ask about any of them (more details length etc). right now they exist as ideas in my notes app and I'd love to flush some out and I'd like to know what people are interested in reading.

[nemaliwrites]

outlining is going great

[cuppajj]

I was pooped the whole day and got my drawing insp last minute late at night so here are some magical girl au doodles since i was inspired :P

Starhawk, Dusk, and AU belong to @dimorphodon-x

[aprilblossomgirl]

-- my comfort drama of the week comes again

[piratebay]

it should've been totally obvious due to my actual usage of tumblr, but i completely forgot how Deeply Uncool i was at 17 🙃

[littol-bun]

i love being an age regressor ૮ᴖﻌᴖა ♡⁠ tonight it feels very affirming and comforting. I've kind of always had to look out for myself and be my biggest supporter, and there are a lot of strange ways this feels like a second chilhood at times.

like i regress to being younger, but I'm also a girl now in a completely different place with completely different circumstances/social circles etc. yk?

but when i feel rly small and my reality feels so big, it makes me happy that older me is there for me to make the important decisions and guide us there :3 it's like i am holding my hand through this, i haven't had an adult rly look out for me like this and it's so nice to have one now!!

i don't have to be scared of big changes, I'm doing good and I'm here for me and i can take it easy. i have someone who is helping me ♡⁠ i have someone who is keeping me safe. they work hard so i can be little ^.^ thanks big sis hehe ✌🏾

ouggghh im not little anymore but (⁠｡⁠ﾉ⁠ω⁠＼⁠｡⁠) ♡⁠ yeah. when i am little i can still like.. function as an adult n talk to ppl n stuff. but it's also like, well like i said before ig 0:

like im smaller but different‚ subtly. still me‚ but someone else since I'm like.. a teen?? that i never was. my childhood was nothing like my adulthood so this rly is a whole new thing little me has needed to learn 2 navigate emotionally/mentally.

but as i become more aware of when I'm in a little headspace and not, the difference in perception stands out to me a lot more. i can't articulate it very well... oughh. this is giving me very specific questions, but on that note — i am happy to feel so safe and looked out for when I'm little 😌💕 i used to feel scared and helpless but it's different now. we're doing this together 👩🏽‍🤝‍👩🏾 i got ya lil sis