the dghda fandom, end of season one:
okay. so blackwing is obviously a Bad Place™, but it can't have been too horrific, right? i mean it was a government thing. and legality is obviously no indication of what is morally right or wrong, but it must have been pretty high profile, right? so someone would've been keeping an eye on it. plus, they were dealing with children. but it was so traumatic. so like... human experimentation, and emotional abuse, maybe?? idk seems like a bit much. but hey there you go. doesn't get much worse than that.
Max Landis, rollerblading in with the physical form of suffering itself, both holding piña coladas:
hey so you're not gonna fuckin believe this
1. Nakahara Chuuya
2. Chuuya getting out of the damned book
3. Nakajima Atsushi
4. Chuuya’s character development in the future
5. Atsushi’s smile
6. Chuuya’s happiness
7. Akutagawa’s freedom from Dazai’s influence and clutch
8. Uhhh Dazai smiling genuinely
9. Chuu Friggin’ Ya
I know that my requests have been closed for a long time now and lately, I’ve ended up accumulating a large amount of requests, I have few left in my drafts and 70+ in my inbox - I know that before, I have said that even though my requests are CLOSED, y’all can still send them in and I’ll just get to them at a later date. Now, recently I’ve been really busy since I’ve been away and stuff and haven’t been able to take the time to do a bunch of requests all at once because, a) there are so many and b) because there’s such a huge variety I can’t find the motivation to do them so quickly - which ultimately leads me to doing them at a lot slower pace, which I apologise for. I hope that you understand that my creativity doesn’t just pop out of nowhere, even though some requests are detailed and I can just follow them directly, the inspiration just isn’t there and I don’t want to post things I’m not entirely happy with and sometimes I feel so under pressure to do requests because some readers will remind me and ask if I’ve gotten to their requests yet, asking once or twice is okay, but asking any more times than that really does add stress to me and the amount of work I already have. Now I’m not blaming anyone - it’s really just me and my own person + time management but sometimes I’d appreciate more motivation than pressure.
So really what I’m trying to say is that, for the time being; I WILL NOT BE ACCEPTING ANY REQUESTS, OF ANY SORTS.I’m not going to be deleting the ones that I already have in my inbox because I know that a lot of the people who have sent them in have been waiting for quite some time and I don’t think it’s fair to just ignore them. Also I just want to add that, the last request I’ve got in my inbox is from today 17.08.22 - 16:15pm UK TIME after this date, any I receive WILL be ignored and deleted, which I’m sorry for, however if you have any requests I’ll take them until 00:00am 17.08.23.
I want to be able to focus on the work I want to write - all from scratch, all my own original ideas with no prompts - like how I originally started this blog. I will still slowly work my way through my requests - but please don’t have a huge expectation for them to come out quickly.
Once again I apologise if this disappoints anyone in any way - if I want my requests to ever open again then, I promise I’ll post about it beforehand!
Connor, do you remember that afternoon that you and I were walking down fifth avenue and we saw that beautiful ring in the window, and you said to me: if only, one day, I could own a ring like that?
So I was thinking about what could be in store for next season. And I came up with something that will break my heart if I’m right…
So there’s this fascination Dany has in the books with this red door that has a lemon tree outside. And she doesn’t ever really remember being there. She thinks it’s something she remembers as a child.
Then there’s all this foreshadowing about children this last episode. Jorah brings it up, then Tyrion, then Dany herself… So girl is probably going to end up preggo.
Last thing, GRRM has gone on record saying that the ending is bittersweet…
What if Dany ends up giving birth to a child, or twins while Jon is killing the NK? He comes back to find a dead wife and his baby or two. Struck by grief and having remembered something she told him he goes and finds the house with the red door and the lemon tree and he raises their kids there? She was never remembering herself growing up there, she was having a vision of where her children would grow up?!
im fine. i was just so tired of being ignored and of crying out for help but only getting disbelieving anons. i deactivated becsuse what was the point of staying somewhere i wasnt wanted? it just felt like every time i tried to tell someone that i needed help i was rejected. morgan said i had shown no recent signs of wanting this. she was wrong. i HAD shown signs. they were just ignored. like usual.
soror, i was so damn tired of this, so i quit. i left. and im not coming back.
I’m sorry I haven’t been on much. I love you. I”m sorry I couldn’t help. I’m sorry. I”m so so sorry.
He’s never quite seen a floor covered with blood. Not completely. Not like this but at first glance, there’s a simple beauty to it. One that he can’t really explain other than the way that it seems to contrast with the white linoleum. It didn’t immediately register to him that what he was looking at was in fact blood. In all honesty, it might have been the color of the blood that had him in this sort of trance. It was so dark, so rich that it almost didn’t look like blood.
On tv, in the movies, the blood that spews across the screen is bright red, cherry red, the kind of red that one would find on the label of a coca-cola can but this… this wasn’t that.
It was the substance that raced in his veins, keeping him alive and it was all over the floor.
Slowly, a stiffness started to build up his spine as he started to realize that this simple beauty that was oozing along that floor was actually someone’s life essence.
He followed the blood from where it was nearly touching the toe of his scuffed up sneakers all the way up to the body that was laying in the pool of blood. Dean’s body that was laying in the pool of blood.
It took him even longer to realize that it was in fact Dean’s blood that he was looking at and even then, he refused to believe it. Like what he was seeing and his brain weren’t in agreeance with each other. He didn’t know what to do, what to actually believe. Should he believe what he was seeing with those deceiving eyes or should he still believe that naive ignorance that something like this could never happen to his brother. It just couldn’t.
Dean, he was invincible with that leather jacket that draped his shoulders and that smile that he carried everywhere. And sure, his mouth might get him in trouble but it also got him out of trouble.
Except it was undeniable the moment that Dean opened his eyes and they immediately focused on Sam.
It was like a knife to the heart at the sudden realization that this was his brother bleeding to death.
But then Dean smiled like Sam hung the moon for him and the knife that was already so deep in Sam’s heart was dug even deeper. So deep that it would never scar over, just fester and ooze, constantly reminding Sam of this, of how slow he was, how inexperienced he was, how he wasn’t ready to hunt on his own with Dean.
Sam had begged Dad, begged him to go on a hunt alone with Dean. He was ready, he claimed. He could handle not having Dad over his shoulder, babying him every step of the way like he was incompetent. Even Dean vouched for him, desperate to get Sam alone. He said that Sam was ready. He could run a mile in just about six minutes. He could hit the middle of a bullseye with a blindfold on. He moved without making a sound and he could disarm Dean quicker than Dean could pull a gun on him.
It was supposed to be an easy hunt. Supposed to be but Sam was quickly finding out that there were no guarantees in hunting.
Just hours ago he was sitting in the Impala next to Dean complaining about the fact that Dad picked them the easiest, boring-est hunt that he could possibly send them on and now Dean, he was…
Sam swallowed thickly, everything snapping into focus all at once and his legs that were locked in place finally started to move.
He dropped down next to Dean, ignoring the way that blood was seeping into his jeans, staining his knees as he ripped off his jacket, pressing it down on Dean’s stomach where he was still bleeding profusely. Dean grunted, just barely but he was still smiling at Sam, teeth coated in blood.
“Sammy…” He muttered, voice slow and thick, delirious almost.
Sam blinked past the tears that were forming in his eyes and tore his gaze away from where he was trying to stop the bleeding and looked up at Dean. There were blood flakes that lined his cheeks like the freckles that were underneath.
“Shh.” Sam hushed. “Don’t talk. Save your strength, Dean. Just save it.”
Dean made a sound in the back of his throat as he raised his hand from the ground and grabbed ahold of Sam’s sleeve.
“Sammy…” He repeated, still delirious but urgent. “Just… stop.” He coughed, hard and wet and hacking as he spit out blood. “It’s okay… I’m gonna be… fine.”
“No… No, you’re not.” Sam said shaking his head like a child. “You’re not. You’re bleeding and it’s because of me. Maybe Dad was right. Maybe it wasn’t time yet. Maybe I wasn’t ready. I should have stayed behind…” He was rambling now, going on and on all in an effort to keep the tears from falling. “I’m sorry, Dean. I’m so so sorry.”
With a shaky grip, Dean fisted his hand in the front of Sam’s shirt and yanked him down. Sam went willingly because what else was he supposed to do? He was supposed to follow Dean’s lead. That was his one rule and maybe if he did that sooner, he wouldn’t be in this mess.
Dean then tangled his fingers in Sam’s hair and pulled his head down to the point that their lips were touching.
Dean kissed him soft but desperate, the kind of kiss that was so bitter sweet and painful that Sam felt that he needed to pull away before he got cut but couldn’t manage himself to do so. It was the kind of kiss that would be seared in his memory as his last kiss.
Sam tasted blood in his mouth and it was Dean’s blood and he drank it down, wishing that it was his own blood instead.