#and he clings to this all

[deathfavor]

@yeonban​​​​​​ said: 10. for soma to request seiroku’s favorite meal from the chefs and bring it to him in an attempt at helping the doctor feel better after having noticed him looking a tad... off, in some sense of the word, earlier in the day.

comfort starters

   The aura that surrounds Seiroku is different than it usually is, and if the reactions he was getting were anything to go by, others were picking up on it. Not that it effected his work, Seiroku wouldn’t allow for that. His work was as flawless and efficient as it always was, and he didn’t slack off either. It was just that something in the air around him gave a distinct feeling to those witnessing it of a ship lost at sea in a vicious storm. It didn’t help when he could feel the worrying gazes on his back from some of the medical staff, or when some of the patients seemed especially intent to thank him for his help with bright eyes. Or delirious ones. Those ones were worse, because even in the haze of the pain they were trying to make sure he knew of their gratefulness.

  Part of him wanted to snap at them. Part of him wanted to destroy all of this, this warmth that tasted sweet like sugar on his tongue. The emotion in his chest feels like spikes under his skin, angry and sharp. Seiroku didn’t. Instead, he’d only offered a distant smile and gentle assurance he was just doing his job, and to let him know if they needed anything.

  He needs to remove this warmth like removing a tumor, to split himself open and rip it out and throw away the malformed mess. Self surgery - he could probably do it. How many bushi had he slaughtered? Seiroku moves through the busy streets, his gaze barely flicking over the bushi as he made his way back to his room. He’d long lost count of the number. He slaughtered everyone, indiscriminately so long as they were Bushi. He hated them. He hated them. Hated them like leeches. That’s right. He needed to crush them out.

  This wasn’t his door though, this was no creation of those black crystals. (He wasn’t even enchanted by them like some of the other members.) This was all real.

  Seiroku quickens his pace, paying little heed to his surroundings till he’s safe within his own room. At least his work was over and he wouldn’t need to face anyone if he didn’t want to. Everyone had off days, most would brush it off simply as that. He hoped. How would he know? He’d never had anyone care. 

  His three golden swords clatter to the ground as he sets them aside and he moves to stand by the window, head resting against the wooden frame as he watched colors bleed from the sky as the sun lowered. He could imagine what most were doing. Drinking, eating, laughing. Everything he’d wanted. Everything he’d been confident he’d never get. Sometimes he could coax members to drink or eat with him, but it wasn’t the same. It was always him reaching out, trying to catch the sunlight in jars. Of course, you can’t seal sunlight in jars. Of course no one in the eight would reach out to him like that outside of having something they needed him to do.  

  He presses his tongue against the top of his mouth, eyes closed as he swallows away the too-sweet warmth like a fire eater extinguishing the flames. He doesn’t need warmth. He needs smoke and ash and emptiness, or a heat of anger so intense that the nerves confuse it for cold. Except anger is a blinding force and hardly good for strategy. So smoke and ash it is.

  Seiroku snaps out of his thoughts when he hears the door slide open, knowing there’s really only one person who’d come find him. (At least without the frantic rhythm of running feet and his name already being called out because there’s some medical emergency happening). He also knows Soma will instantly notice something is amiss if he hasn’t already - but to what extent he’ll point it out is unknown.

   His stomach growls at the smell of food and his eyes shift to the tray in Soma’s hands.  “  You remembered.  “ His eyes widen in genuine disbelief. He’d only mentioned it in passing once, he hadn’t expected Soma to actually remember something so insignificant as his favorite meal. And somehow that hurts. Even as Seiroku’s expression softens, and there’s a faint glimpse of something melancholic lurking in his gaze before he shoves it down beneath the waves. 

   Why do you have to make this so hard? Please...Please stop...

   Please don’t stop.

   “  Thank you.  “  Seiroku pushes a smile to his lips as he moves away from the window and the dark outside to sit at the table. His mouth waters yet he only stares for a moment at the food.  “  ...I really mean that. I’m not just saying it. “ His head lifts to look at the captain. He didn’t need to do any of this. His gaze lingers before he turns his head back to take a bit of the food before it got cold. Warm..

[hussyknee]

my disabled ass, after (1)good day: "obviously I am cured. in fact it may have all been in my head. who can say? now to rejoin society!"

me, the next day: "it has come to my attention that i may be chronically ill."

[cordycepspog]

Love love LOVE the focus on Joel’s boots during his rampage in the hospital. Because it’s not in a fit of rage, or desperation. Joel’s face is blank. He’s not thinking about consequences of his actions. He’s thinking “you took away my daughter and now I’m getting her back.” It’s a skill he picked up from Tess. He knows what’s coming. There’s no need to get emotional about it. It’s the simplest thing in the world to him: “You don’t get to take her away from me. Not again.” Hell, he doesn’t even look at the doctor when he shoots him! He’s looking right at Ellie, his entire focus and purpose laying in front of him! Mans is straight up on autopilot!

Joel is a unstoppable force in his grief. And Ellie is the immovable object that keeps him from walking straight over the ledge.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 112

Once again, you know who is underutilized in DCxDP crossovers? Battinson. Skrunkly shivering boi. Who we should definitely give children to care for. 

 Did you know that Jason canonically had a brother named Danny? Well you do now, and it should also be used more. 

 We all want to give Battinson a robin, so why not give him four for the price of two. He of course gets Dick from the circus- he’s never going to go into public again, this was the first time he’d gone to do something out of his comfort zone for a while and look how that turned out. 

 And on one of the nights that Dick has to stay home (Alfred insists he must finish his homework if he wants to go out on patrol) Bruce returns to the batmobile to find not one child, but two. Is Danny reincarnated? Just appeared one day? Who knows, but he’s here now and going to protect his little brother. 

 Bruce might have tears in his eyes when they both hit him in the kneecaps and bolt because even with the armor it still hurts. How he manages to grab both kids he’s not too sure, but he ends up getting them food after they put the tires back. He also doesn’t understand how he’s convinced them into the car but they’ve both conked out and maybe he’s panicking and needs Alfred- 

 D-Dick why is there another child here? He’s the neighbor, cool cool. W-what do you mean he’s home alone, he’s like, 4?? What do you mean he’s been alone for a week now???

…

Alfreeeeed-

[moodyseal]

Okay we have considered the concept of Apollo getting a CHB bead once he becomes a god again but what if it doesn't stop there. What if year after year the campers keep giving him beads and he keeps adding them to his necklace until there comes a point where he looks like this

[theresamouseinmyhouse]

tbh i do get a little bothered by the notion that tim took the first shot he had to drop out of school because he hated school and didnt wanna do it and all of that bc i feel like it ignores the probably very important context that he dropped out after his dad (as well as steph-or at least, he was led to believe, in the same week) died, also he was in a school shooting. He did attempt to go to a school in bludhaven but the kids there were so wildly insensitive about the shooting that tim dropped out under the pretense of his "uncle" homeschooling him. In his oyl era, he /did/ go back to school, and it provided him some form of normalcy. Tim was a normal kid, he wasnt crazy about school but he still went to school and it helped him feel like a normal kid, something he desperately clung to. He only dropped out again to do his Brucequest, in an era where he was notably Not Doing Well (which. Yeah. he wasnt doing well bc he was like 17 and almost everyone in his support system was dead, he recently had hits put out on him, got blown up, and backstabbed by his not-dead-ex, he couldnt support his theory that bruce was alive and was extremely stressed about that, and he didnt know wtf he was doing. I love him btw.) Basically tim dropping out of school was a signifier that he wasnt doing well and he was giving up on the normality that he tried to cling to and im a bit of a nitpicky person who gets irked by minor things

[puppyeared]

personal character design headcanons + brainrot

Note: the re-bound!au does NOT belong to me, it belongs to @chipper-smol I’m just not normal about it lol

[luxaofhesperides]

For the ghostlights drabbles: “Say my name” with a favor being called in?

Duke had saved Phantom years ago, back when he was just out of high school and working to take down a branch of the government that was kidnapping and experimenting on people, targeting magic users and metas. Phantom had been working on his own to take them down, and they met in the middle, trashing a lab and freeing as many people as they could.

They had managed to shoot his back, knocking him down and making him bleed a glowing green. Phantom couldn’t move, protecting two kids with his body, and Duke couldn’t reach them in time before they were taken away by another swarm of agents. 

He was able to go after them in time, free Phantom and the kids, and evacuated the victims before Phantom rained hell down on the facility.

At the end, standing in the background as they watched paramedics treat the victims and take them towards the nearest hospitals, Phantom had turned towards him and thanked him.

Or rather, he thanked the Signal and offered him a bracelet with a rounded orb of ice, glowing faintly in the dark. If you ever need me, he had said, Hold this, and call me name.

Phantom vanished once the last of the victims were transported to a safer location, and Duke hadn’t seen him since.

He’s kept up with news about Phantom as best he can, but from what he could tell, Phantom is based primarily in Amity Park, Illinois, and the town is fiercely protective of their hero. News rarely leaks out of there, and with them running on their own servers and independent internet, it was nearly impossible to get in from the outside. 

Phantom remained a curious and distant figure in Duke’s life. He holds onto the bracelet still, guarding it carefully and sometimes running his fingers over the ice that never melts.

But he doesn’t call in that favor. He’s never to.

At least, not until now.

Sucking in a breath, Duke prepares himself and holds the orb of ice in the palm of his hand. He’s in civies, unable to hide his identity for this, and closes his eyes. “Phantom,” he says.

For a moment, nothing happens. Duke blinks his eyes open and frowns, mind already forming new plans to contact Phantom. Then the ice goes bitingly cold, almost painful, and the temperature in the room drops dramatically. The ice lifts up from his hand, floating in the air, then cracks open.

White-blue light spills out of it, growing brighter as it seems to swallow up the room entirely. Duke hurries to back up, an arm thrown up to protect his eyes. His breath mists out before him and he shivers as the sound of ice cracking fills the room.

And then, just as suddenly as it started, the light disappears and the cold fades away like a bad dream. 

Slowly, Duke lowers his arm and looks up at Phantom, floating in the middle of his living room with a crown made of ice, engulfed in blue fire, hovers above his head. He looks older, more regal, holding his head high. 

He regards Duke carefully for a minute, then tilts his head and says, “Signal?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Man, I’m so glad you came.”

“You… need help with something? You’re calling in your favor now, right?”

Duke nods. He understands Phantom’s confusion; being in the hero business means that favors like these tend to be used only during the most hopeless of times, when the world is close to ending, when the chances of getting out of a situation alive is close to impossible. It’s exactly the kind of thing Duke was expecting to call Phantom in for.

Not the kid sleeping on his couch.

“You’re a ghost, yeah?”

Phantom blinks at him. “Ghost king, now. Why?”

“Well…” Duke rubs the back of his neck, nervously. “I didn’t really know who else to call, and I can’t do this on my own since I’m not a ghost. But this kid got attached to me and won’t leave, so now I’m taking care of her and I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“I don’t know why you think I have any experience with kids but—”

“She’s a ghost.”

Phantom stops short. “Ah. I see.” He floats down until his feet touch the floor, and then he’s standing like any other person. “Where…?”

Duke looks past Phantom’s shoulder, and Phantom turns to follow his gaze. Chelsea, the ghost girl, looks to be around nine years old and is fast asleep on the couch, curled up under Duke’s softest blanket.

“Signal,” Phantom says quietly, “What, exactly, is the favor you need from me?”

“You can say no,” Duke starts. “I get that this is a lot. But I need help raising her. And since you’re a ghost, I figured you could help me learn about the ghostly side of things. You don’t have to raise her with me or anything! Just… I would appreciate any help you’re willing to give me.”

Phantom doesn’t say no. He doesn’t say anything. He just stares down at Chelsea, an unreadable expression on his face. 

On the couch. Chelsea shifts in her sleep, brows furrowing as she makes a choked noise in the back of her throat.

Moving on autopilot after so many nights of this routine, Duke kneels next to the couch, fishing one of her hands from beneath the blanket. He gives it a few reassuring squeezes, keeping it a slow rhythm to pull her gently from her nightmare. She settles down in just a minute, brow smoothing out as she continues to sleep. 

The silence grows and Duke is all too aware that his heart is the only one beating. 

He doesn’t hear Phantom move. Doesn’t realize he’s right next to him until he sees Phantom’s hand reach out towards Chelsea. When Duke looks, Phantom is sitting on the floor next to Duke, looking at Chelsea with something soft and devastated in his eyes. His hand hovers about her head for a long moment, then slowly lowers to rest on her head. 

The touch looks gently, barely putting any pressure on her head, but it’s enough to make Chelsea’s eyes snap open, suddenly wide awake. She stares at Phantom with wide eyes, then sits up and looks between him and Duke.

“Who are you?” she asks in a small voice that makes Duke want to stand against the world to keep her safe. 

Phantom smiles. It’s casual and charming and makes him look like anyone else, as if he’s not a powerful king from a realm unreachable to humans. “Hi there,” he says, “I’m Danny. I’m a ghost like you. Signal called me and asked me to meet you.”

The Ghost King is good with kids. Who would have thought?

Chelsea looks at him for confirmation and only relaxes when he nods. “I’m Chelsea. What do you mean ghost? I’m not dead.”

Both he and Phantom tense, carefully keeping their expressions neutral. She hasn’t told him much at all, just that her parents were gone and forgot her and she got hurt, so she wanted to stay with ‘Mr. Signal’ because he’s a hero and heroes keep people safe and he was the only one who was Black like her. Duke hadn’t had the heart to say no, and began searching for her family, only to find that her parents had fled the state, and likely the country, after killing their only child through neglect and a dangerous environment. 

It was then that he realized that her powers were not because she was a meta, but because she was ghost.

It still hurts to realize how young she is, how much of her life had been stolen from her in an instant. Duke hadn’t been brave enough to broach the topic with her, instead choosing to let her grow comfortable in his presence, get them both settled into a routine now that he was her primary guardian. 

“I know it sounds scary,” Phantom says, “And you may not want to believe me, but it’s true. I’m sorry that you died so young, but that just means you get to hang out with me and other ghosts from now on!”

Chelsea crosses her arms over her chest and glares at him. “I am not dead,” she says.

“Cici, I’m sorry to say this, but you are,” Duke cuts in. “That’s why I called… Danny. You have new powers as a ghost, and he can help you get used to them.”

“I’m not dead!” she says again.

“Kid,” Phantom begins, but Chelsea shakes her head hard and hops off the couch.

“I’m not lying! Watch, I’ll prove it to you!” She closes her eyes and scrunches up her nose, concentrating. Her hands curl into tight fists by her sides, and the glow around her grows dim. Two faint, stuttering rings of light appear around her waist. They flicker and wobble in the air, as if weak and uncertain of their own existence, then split apart, one moving up towards her head while the other falls to her feet.

Beside him, Phantom sucks in a sharp breath, but Duke can’t turn to see what’s wrong when he’s trying to take in the sight of Chelsea suddenly full of vibrant color, looking more solid that he’s ever seen her, very much alive.

“See?” she says proudly, lifting her arms and doing a spin to show off her right she was. “I told you I’m not dead!”

“No, you’re not,” Phantom agrees, sounding shell-shocked. When Duke is finally able to look away from Chelsea to check on him, he looks awed. There’s the smallest smile on his face, just the slightest upturn of his lips, but it makes him look softer.

Duke turns his attention back to Chelsea before he can be caught staring. “Cici, can you come here for a second?”

She goes before he’s finished speaking, crossing the space between them in a single jump, then grins up at him. Her hair is a bit of a mess, the two buns he managed to get her hair into falling askew. He makes a note to visit the old aunties in the Narrows later to ask them to teach him how to do hair. For now, he holds out a hand and Chelsea drops an arm into it.

It seems to good to be true, having her be alive, but her pulse is steady and strong when he presses his thumb against the inside of her wrist. 

“Well,” he says, leaning back and letting go of her arm. “You certainly proved us wrong.”

Chelsea doesn’t have much time to look smug before PHantom quietly says, “You’re like me.”

“What?”

“You’re like me,” he tells Chelsea. “A halfa.”

She tilts her head to one side. “What’s that?”

“Someone who is half human and half ghost. Both dead and alive.”

Duke blinks, taking in the words, then turns to face Phantom so quickly he’s worried he might give himself whiplash. Halfa, he said. Like me, he said. 

And sure enough, two rings of light, bright and strong, appear around Phantom’s waist before splitting in half, moving over his entire body. 

Gone is the Ghost King, all powerful and adorned in dark clothing with a crown of ice above his head. In his place is a guy who looks to be Duke’s age, eyes a deep blue and his black hair messy, feet set solidly on the floor. He looks completely normal, completely human, and no longer an impossibility.

“You still up for learning how to use all your new powers?” Phantom asks.

Chelsea grins. “Yeah!” And then, with a quick flick of her eyes going from Phantom to Duke that he almost misses, very innocently asks, “Are you going to stay with us then?”

“I… don’t know?” Phantom looks to Duke for an answer.

Already, Duke can see this going two ways. The correct way forward, the normal one, has Phantom popping in every so often, taking Chelsea out for a few hours to work on training her and her powers. It’s easy and routine and they can keep their boundaries uncrossed and be professional. 

The other path is what Duke wants most that he shouldn’t impose onto the literal Ghost King. He could have Phantom living with them while he’s on Earth and out of Amity Park, having a place at the table, a section in the closet for his own clothes, a quietly domestic night together while Chelsea sleeps where they can get to know each other more, get to know each other outside of news reports and texts on a screen.

“You can stay with us if you want,” Duke offers, casually, “It might keep my apartment safe from her powers acting up on their own again.”

“Are you sure? I could always just fly in on the weekends or something.”

“I’d appreciate having you around. So you can help Cici.”

“If you don’t mind,” Phantom says, looking away. Like this, fully alive with a beating heart, it’s easy to see the blush steal away across his cheeks. 

“I don’t.”

“I don’t either!” Chelsea pops in, looking far too gleeful by their awkward conversation.

Duke can’t help but laugh, feeling lighter than he had in ages. The relief of knowing that Chelsea is alive, for the most part at least, eases the guilt of thinking he had been too late to save her, that there was no chance she could have made it out and had a future, makes him feel weak. All the exhaustion of the past few weeks hits him all at once and he wants nothing more than to collapse in bed and sleep for twelve hours.

“Alright, squirt,” he says, reaching out to pat her head. “It’s late. We can talk more in the morning, so go to bed. In your actual bed this time, not on the couch.”

Chelsea stands up taller, ready to argue, but Duke gives her a Look™ and she quickly shuts her mouth, nods, and drags her feet back to her room (the former guestroom he can never give any of the other Waynes ever again, once they find out about her). 

Sighing, Duke collapses onto the couch once he hears the door shut behind her. Phantom joins him after a few seconds, sitting tentatively on the edge of the couch. The cushion moves beneath his weight, another reminder of how solid and alive he is right not.

Duke wants to touch him, to reach out and feel for himself his pulse, the warmth of his body, his chest lifting with each breath. 

He doesn’t move. He stays where he is, hands carefully still, and tries to think past the dizzying thoughts of she’s still alive, I’m not too late, he’s still here, he’s alive.

“Rough week?” Phantom asks, voice purposefully light.

“Something like that.”

“You should get some sleep too.”

“I don’t think I can. Not after everything. My mind’s too loud right now.”

Phantom shifts closer to him, hesitant in a way that Duke has never seen before in him, and asks, “Want me to stay with you until you mind quiets down some?”

“Yeah. I’d like that. Thanks, Phantom.”

“You know, if I’m going to be around so often as Chelsea’s halfa mentor, then you might as well call me Danny.”

Truth be told, Duke didn’t think that was his real name. He’s glad to know it’s not. 

“Then call me Duke.”

“...Are you sure? You could still hide your identity from me.”

“Nah, I trust you. A name for a name, yeah?”

Danny smiles. “Duke,” he says, testing out the name, and it’s never sounded better than when it falls from Danny’s mouth.

“Danny,” Duke returns. He belatedly realizes that they’ve leaned towards each other, drawn together like gravity, stuck in each other’s orbit. It feels natural. It feels like this is where they’re meant to be.

Maybe he should be more cautious. They’ve only meant once before, after all. But he’s read all he could on Phantom and has seen how Amity Park loves him. He’s stressed and exhausted and trying to figure out how to look after a half-ghost child that’s already been dealt a bad hand in life. He should be keeping Phantom at a distance, watching over him carefully to ensure he isn’t a threat to Chelsea.

But Duke saw how he acted with Chelsea, so gentle and understanding and kind. That’s all he needed to see.

He may not know much about Danny, but he knows this: he is trustworthy.

Enough to entrust his identity to him.

Enough to entrust Chelsea to him.

It’s more than a favor; it’s a promise to walk this road together. 

There’s no one he’d rather do this with. 

“Thanks,” he says again, “For all of this. I know it’s a lot.”

Danny shrugs. “I don’t mind. Really. It’s nice to know there’s another halfa out there, no matter how she came to be one. Makes things feel less lonely.”

“Will you tell me more about halfas?”

“Later. Once you get some proper rest. We’ve got time, haven’t we?”

“We do,” Duke agrees, affection settling warm in his chest. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

Learning how to control her new powers won’t be easy for Chelsea. Learning how to take care of her won’t be easy. Learning how to do things together, as Duke and Danny rather than the Signal and Phantom, won’t be easy. But Duke knows with a certainty he feels in his bones that they’re going to be fine.

So long as they’ve got each other, they’ll be fine.

[poorlittleyaoyao]

The Second Flautist remains the stupidest but also funniest adaptation choice. Su Minshan, heretofore portrayed as a cringefail loser who needed Wangxian and Wen Ning to save his ass from the Waterborne Abyss, overrides Wei Wuxian’s demonic cultivation abilities TWICE. Not only does he seize control of Wen Ning, but he manipulates the resentment summoned by Wei Wuxian to attack people and turn them into puppets at Nightless City SO EFFECTIVELY that Wei Wuxian cannot regain control of them even on an individual basis with the Yin Tiger Tally helping him.

Su Minshan, true Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, is the most overpowered character in the entire series, and we must therefore conclude that he chooses to be Jin Guangyao’s devoted henchman rather than seizing any power for himself because he finds it personally fulfilling.

[chronurgy]

Idk man thinking about Caleb and Astrid and breakdowns. How the one time we see her have a breakdown it's so neat and quiet and private in contrast to Caleb's messy, public, even violent breakdowns. Do you think she looks down on him for not being able to control it? Do you think she resents him because Trent still wants him back even after all of it and she could never get away with something like that (does the specter of the hysterical woman keep her up at night)? Does she envy him because that's what freed him? And does that just cause the resentment to pile even higher because she could never allow herself to fall to pieces like that? Because someone has to stay in control. Someone has to keep it together.

[beanghostprincess]

this is my roman empire.

[hagenwo43]

More Oscar content!

[ghouljams]

I am going to keep slutting Ghost out, he deserves it. Respectfully. But also the man cannot dress himself, he has no drip. He's got 20 black t-shirts, he's got jeans and fatigues and that's it. He thinks skull and skeleton motifs are cool. Soap and Gaz get him a skeleton sweatshirt/sweatpants fit as a gag gift and laugh themselves hoarse when he wears them around the base.

I'm not saying he doesn't look so fucking good in a black tee and fatigues, but the man does not have style. Not on purpose. He wears his usual black tee and maybe some black cargo pants, wanders around town in his big army boots and gets stopped by goth kids and tech/streetwear folks. He doesn't know what the fuck they're complimenting him for. He doesn't know why they're talking to him. He tells Gaz about it and Gaz almost chokes on his drink, has to call Soap over to hear this. Ghost doesn't know fashion trends, he doesn't care, he's going to keep doing what he's doing.

[mxtxfanatic]

There are a few places in mdzs where, in the midst of Wei Wuxian trying to placate him, Jiang Cheng says something so terribly, egregiously misrepresentative of Wei Wuxian and his morals that all Wei Wuxian can do is stare at him—like an adult realizing for the first time that the tantruming child they are attempting to calm may just be spoiled—before deciding to give up on the conversation. “Sure, Jiang Cheng,” he says, “it’s whatever you feel. It’s whatever you want.”

People like to say that the problem with the Yunmeng friendship is simply communication issues, but I think the real problem is that when true conflict happens between them, they both realize that they truly do not like each other. The difference is that Jiang Cheng reacts to this realization by trying to force Wei Wuxian into the shape that he wants, which is submission—“Do as I say! Listen to me! Obey me!”—while Wei Wuxian stands at the other end of the torched bridge he plans to never cross again and goes, “Sure Jiang Cheng, it’s whatever you feel, it’s whatever you want.”

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 131

Okay, so first of all Dan would like to say it’s not his fault. Ellie was the one to bring some unknown object into the speeder and Jazz was the one driving. Or had Sam been driving- didn’t matter! It wasn’t his fault, he wasn’t the one shooting at them, he wasn’t the one to break whatever, he was not the one to open a stupid portal, and so it wasn’t his fault! 

So why is he now like, five years old, and why is the speeder crashed in some sort of corn field. Why is everyone- except for Jazz whose now like six- also like three at most?! And- oh fuck the door just opened and… okay that’s a kid. Like, nine at most. 

A kid and an adult, who he hadn’t noticed at first so again, it’s not his fault if he hissed at them and tried to hide his not-siblings behind him. It’s also not fair they’re apparently stuck to ghost speak for who knows how long, but at least they can understand the people. 

“Martha, get some blankets, it’s happened again!” 

[lotus-pear]

guys idk about you but i am NOT ready to delve into uncharted waters as we move into new content with bsd in the upcoming chapter.

this new chapter could include anywhere from ada reunion and a return back to yokohama OR to a new horrible twist after fyodor’s death, ensuring that if he lost then dazai would too. taking dazai down with him.

not to mention if we return back to yokohama that’s a whole other gut wrenching story as one ada member is selected to go to the port mafia. i am not ready to see the futile and tragic looks on the other agency members as they grit their teeth and watch one of their own step into the world of darkness. the tragedy of letting someone go after they have all reconciled. being separated again, but for good this time