#but here i am!

[amadenchart]

[Viking AU] A New Home

Sigmund and Signý (Vygo and Indrys' names in this AU, based on the characters from the Völsunga Saga) finally found a good place to settle and make their nest!

[OC: Sigmund and Signý)

More on my SubscribeStar.

[thecoyotescry]

Hey, gang! Just wanted to introduce y’all to my boyfriends.

I’ve already told my mom about us so I’d say it’s serious.

[abluehappyface]

Here's the birthday Junko edit I was talking about! It's SUPER different from my normal and I LOVE IT!! This is the first time I'm introducing "Body Kintsugi," a completely new trait added to my edit list. I could probably use some practice, but I'm not disliking what I see so far! I love fantasy rebirth Junko's original design so I knew immediately that I wanted to edit with it!

[fruit-punk]

🌟🎀 first time taking selfies in like a year lol 🎀🌟

[password-door-lock]

Saeran takes care in arranging the cheese plate, although he knows he doesn't have much reason to be so meticulous. The two of you are probably going to devour it over the course of the next few minutes— after all, both of your circadian rhythms are severely skewed after last night (or this morning, to be more precise). The RFA party ran late, and then, despite the hour, the other members wanted to spend a bit of quality time together as a group. After that, of course, the pair of you had to make the trek from the party hall in the city to your marital home in the countryside. Saeran drove, and though he assured you that he wouldn't mind it if you fell asleep, you insisted on staying awake with him, playing silly driving games until the two of you were safely in the house. After getting into your respective pajamas and brushing your respective teeth, you and Saeran fell asleep sometime around three in the morning. 

The two of you only woke up about an hour ago, ravenous, as anyone would expect, and now, here you are, combining forces to throw together a low-effort lunch. “Honey, if I sliced up an apple, would you eat it?” You ask. You threw on one of Saeran’s sweaters after getting out of bed, but otherwise, you’re still in your pajamas. This makes you look even cuter than you normally would, leaning on the counter and staring contemplatively at a basket of apples. 

Saeran regards you fondly. “I think most people just eat apples whole, don’t they, my love?” He can’t help but tease you a little. After all, you’re just so adorable.

“I don't think most people put whole apples on their charcuterie trays,” you grumble, though your eyes shine despite your apparent annoyance. Saeran can tell that you’re just making a production of it, trying to entertain him— and, to your credit, it’s working.  “What about tomatoes?”

“Anything is fine,” Saeran assures you, carefully slicing the mild brie that he picked up a few days ago in anticipation of this exact event. After the last RFA party, he learned that neither one of you is really up for cooking a proper meal the next day.  “It's like we're having a picnic,” he muses. Granted, it’s the middle of winter, so it won’t be possible to have your lunch outside, but this is the same kind of food that Ray would have prepared if he’d ever been able to set up that picnic he promised you back at Magenta. 

You grin. “In our pajamas?” 

“Hm.” Saeran looks down at his oversized T-shirt and plaid pajama pants. Although he can’t say that this was a factor of his original picnic fantasy, now that he’s actually living it, he is largely  unconcerned with what the two of you are wearing. He's happy to be comfortable, after all, and he's even happier to see you equally comfortable. “I guess so.”

“That's a great idea,” you decide, placing a pair of whole apples on the plate with the cherry tomatoes and blueberries, despite your earlier reservations. “I'll go get a blanket. We can eat on the floor.” Now Saeran understands— the ambiance of your indoor picnic is more important to you than the aesthetic quality of the charcuterie board. Truth be told, he can’t help but agree, especially considering how excited you sound.

Saeran returns your grin. There's never a dull moment with you, that's for sure. “I've never had an indoor picnic before.” It's not something that he ever would have thought of before he met you. Honestly, he spent so long daydreaming about that specific picnic in the garden that now, he cannot divorce the idea of a picnic from the image that he created in his mind. He’s glad that you can see the situation from a different angle. 

“There's a first time for everything,” you call from the living room, where you are setting up a picnic blanket on top of the rug. “Maybe somebody’ll write a book about us or something.” 

“Maybe you're right, my love,” Saeran calls back, carefully arranging the cheese on the plate. “We’re innovators, aren’t we?” As he does every time he takes a moment to reflect, Saeran finds that he feels thankful to be by your side.

[magpiesketchins]

A reminder for me

[thunderon]

congrats on degree!

much appreciated! thank you :)

[thegladingladiator]

Me looking like a damn idiot YET AGAIN for believing they were going to put scenes from the trailer in the actual episode

[horseshoemybeloved]

I’m on lexapro which is so exciting to finally have something else to help with my mental shit ( especially cus in the fall my family goes to this campsite every weekend and that always upsets me, and extra scared this year due to the up in anti lgbt rhetoric. So I’m excited to have something to help me get through that. )

But MAN. I am. SLEEPY.

I’ve literally only been on it for three days so ik it’s probably just my body getting used to it but it’s Annoying!!

Hopefully in a few days it will die down and I can get back to fob fanart,,,,

( this fall there will prob be a ton lol I’m gonna be stuck in my camper )

[circle--of--confusion]

Can't believe I want to cry over a Swedish man cosplaying as a Satanic Pope

[the-bloody-sadist]

this is probably a really silly question, but, ah, as someone who really enjoys your bsd fanfiction and dark dazai-centric fanfiction by other authors, would it be fulfilling to read the bsd manga? i feel like i SHOULD bc ... at this point, it seems pretty silly not to. but on the other hand, the manga looks like a Commitment, and i'm not very interested in atsushi (and he IS the main character) or most of the ADA members.

NO.

NO, I REPEAT, NO. DO NOT, UPON ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, EXPECT YOU WILL GET ANYTHING INTERESTING FROM THE BSD CANON IF WHAT YOU LIKE IS DARK, DAZAI-CENTRIC FANFICTION THAT I OR OTHER AUTHORS WRITE (also heh *smooths eyebrow* I'm so flattered you like my work, thank you) OKAY?

The reason why dark, Dazai-centric BSD fanfiction exists is because in the manga/anime he is COMIC RELIEF. Depression man comic relief. Suicidal man comic relief. HE IS PLAYED AS A SUICIDE JOKE. It's really infuriating. He gets his moments but like he was created to be fanficed, methinks. Methought, actually, because then I did it and it became past tense.

WOW.

I'm losing it today. BUT NO YEAH ATSUSHI SUCKS AND IT'S ALL ABOUT HIM AND HIS GUILT COMPLEX AND HIS ONE (1) SINGULAR PTSD FLASHBACK. And Dazai just plays side goofy to him until they get into his mafia 15yo arc.

If you decide to read any manga, I would recommend the BEAST manga!! It's a dark, canon AU of the original story and honestly would've served better as the main story imo. I haven't read all of it but I know what happens, and yeah. Very sad. Still unfulfilling. BUT IT HOLDS THAT DARK SIDE THAT BSD DOES NOT. And Dazai is properly depressed instead of a running suicide gag.

[drowning-in-cacophony]

Dive

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial Prompt 206: Sink or Swim

Summary: a girl prepares to dive

She sits on the edge of the cliff, her knees drawn up to her chest, her arms loosely encircling. Below her the water roars, white rapids against harsh stone, and it’ll be freezing down there. Especially with this breeze that plays with the split ends of her hair, tossing them this way and that way.

Her body, in the waves, would be as powerless. The rocks would be a harder target than her shoulders.

“You’re assuming it’ll be a failure,” the architect says from behind her. She doesn’t turn to look, already knowing what she’ll see. Them, standing so tall and impenetrable behind her. Unmoveable by breeze or waves or even words. Nothing shifts them; she’d not be surprised if they outlasted the very cliffs they stand on, held up for millennia already.

“You were chosen for a reason,” they say, the same tone. Slightly disapproving, like she’s a kid refusing to wipe her face or something. But always so distant, with emotions and tones addressed through five feet deep glass, so it’s only the slight impression crashing down into her shoulders. The distance makes it worse, even if it mutes those more negative words. Emotions are meant to be vivid for a reason. How can she trust in their judgement when she doesn’t even know how they actually sound when they feel?

“This refusal to do your task is juvenile,” they say once more. “Fear is a logical companion, but we have taught you well enough to push that to one side. Think of the bigger picture.”

It’s always the bigger picture with the architect. They’ll tweak and focus in on those small pieces, like her and her dive, and they’ll put all their attention into it, but the bigger picture’s always there. The constant companion, the ever-reliable reminder. The bigger picture; it’s selfish not to prioritise how everything looks, stupid to allow a small feeling to ruin the overall look. There’s too much of the plan in their head, she thinks, and that’s why they can never truly stop lecturing about it. They see how it will all go, once all the small pieces do as asked, seeing that finished product of a mansion so well that they forget what it’s like being stuck in just one of the rooms and that being all you see.

The breeze lashes a end across her cheek. It bites as badly as the water will.

They get no response and yet don’t even check to see if she’s listening. She could not be – she could be caught in her own thoughts, her own dread and heaviness, because there isn’t a path that leads her away from this clifftop. There was never going to be a way back, only a way forward to whatever end. It’s not even an assumption that she will listen; they speak with the knowledge that no-one can quite resist listening. It’s like hypnotism, but it’s all voluntary, a warped version of ultimate trust.

She, all the others, trusts them. And the architect sends them off edges into possible doom, and she and all of the others will always listen and obey regardless.

She climbs up to her feet, slowly enough that it could be considered taking the piss, or slow enough that she’s savouring the last certainty. Once she dives-

It’ll be one of two ways. The thing the architect wants, the outcome she wants because it’s the one that ends with her still breathing and still fighting, and she’ll be stepping out of this room of the plan and out into the ballroom, ready to dance with bigger sections. Or it’ll be the other thing, where she smashes against rocks and pulls underwater and fails, messily and painfully. Horribly, while the architect watches with mild disappointment, always so distant.

That’ll be the worst thing. Seeing the world disappear as the water clouds her vision, just like the glass pane they must see the world from.

“Come now, no more delay.”

She still doesn’t look over her shoulder at them, even as she approaches the very lip of the cliff. Her boots disturb a few small stones, plummeting down to the punishing water. Her fingers curl towards her palms, nails biting.

The sky’s a dull grey. The architect’s distance for her eyes to suffer even with her back turned. She shouldn’t look towards the water, if only because it’ll make her heart jump to her throat, but she does anyway if only for something that feels. And there, the crowded blues mixes with daring whites, the way the current swirls so violently and the grey splattered rocks sit so sharp and waiting. Vibrant and unavoidable. Full force, full volume.

The wind buffets around her knees, and then she steps off the cliff-

-and into the pod. Electronic sounds spark, too loud in her ears and their lights too bright for her eyes. She blinks them open anyway, coughs on water that doesn’t exist in her lungs, and stares through the glass panel that’s over her face, over her whole body. There’s readouts on the other side that she can’t read, doctors bustling around somewhere outside this pod, the bigger picture unrolling even more-

And she’s facing that grey sky again, in its purest form. The architect’s eyes peer down at her, double glass with theirs and the sheet over hers.

“Good work,” they say, voice even quieter with the physical boundary. Words much more pleasant than disapproval, but that’s the thing. If distance mutes, everything’s caught. Positive sounds end up like useless sludge between her fingers. Useless.

She coughs again, tasting salt deep in her throat.

She says the thing expected of her. “What’s next, then?”

[ntaliavr]

being in love with somebody who isn't emotionally expressive as a person who needs words of affirmation is quite possibly one of the most excruciating feelings ever

[thefleshyougoveggie]

dating a gay man as a nonbinary & transmasculine person is actually nicer than i could’ve expected^_^ or like, it’s nice in ways i just.,, didn’t really consider before!!

i don’t feel as insecure about the things about myself i view as feminine because i know for sure that there’s no way he views those feminine things in a “girl way”, because he’s simply not attracted to women!

idk it’s still early and there might be things abt it that are gonna be hard, but i’m enjoying it as it is right now atleast:)

[dumb-fictionkin-sideblog]

extremely funny for my fictionkin identity to be so impactful on my life when being fictionkin defies my own beliefs

[alex-frostwalker]

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYBODY! 🥳🎆🎊