Have Been Rewatching Ouran Recently And Decided To Doodle My Favs. I Love These Little Guys

this is like watching a single snow-white dove fly over a pristine alpine meadow.

sorry guys what the fuck do you mean jrwi has been going on for six years. who is br'aad. who is narwhal who is triplemcwheatie. what im going insane. am i hallucinating

treating this as a follow list now oh em gourd

Shoutout specifically to

bigggayhimbo parallasso ttrpgenjoyer violaextract octolingo-writes sapphicwithapen newgroundstier canyourlawnmowerdothis and others which my memory does not let me recall

thank you for carrying the fated content <3

writing (bad start) american psycho (plot twist) fanfic (familiar ending)

19 is such an unromantic age for spring. in winter it’s all well and good, it serves like an overcoat and scarf. it coats all embarrassment about who you are in a thick layer of frost and ennui- so what if i’m boring. winter serves as a modifier to the shame of being boring while young. it’s winter, i’m 19, light my cigarette about it. but in spring? and, god forbid, summer? it seems almost chaste, as a number. to be 18 in summer was monumental, a symbol of incredible, defining freedom, a maidenhead and a maiden voyage all at once, even if i knew as i was 18 that it was humiliating to be 18. but 19? in spring? that winter ennui is remaining even now that the frosts are melting. how horrifically embarrassing it is to be 19 in spring! hustler and virgin all in one. i don’t even like good music.

It’s vital for ur mental health to have gay boy fun

FATED SPOILERS:

random hot take: i think bra’axi, as much as we all love it, would not have made a good match until post canon. we can see bra’ad slowly getting more in touch with the others and himself, getting character arcs away from ob’nock’shai, joining the storyteller, becoming more comfortable as himself, developing morals and loyalty and generally evolving as a character. taxi, conversely, never gets that arc for himself.

(probably because his character development is tied to oriana and jared refuses to give female characters depth. cough misogyny cough.)

so i think we need to see the fated post-ungaroe, with new paths and levels and ideas and wants and development, and then bra’axi could work because it’s two people in a new world looking to better themselves and Be Gay Together

HELLO GOOD MORNING HOLY SHIT?

scythebelts? in THIS FUCKING ECONOMY????? WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOUVE NEVER WATCHED THE FATED HOW HAVE YOU NEVER WATCHED THE FATED. YOU JUST GODDAMN NAILED THEM. I DIDNT EVEN KNOW OTHER PEOPLE WROTE FOR THEM IM PILLAGING YOU AND OCTO’S AO3 POSTS AFTER THIS

LIKE WHAT?????

@parallasso go follow them the lola fic revival is cancelled read this RIGHT NOW this fic singlehandedly made me decide to finally workshop the second work in the “diplomat/dueler” au

this is so so good man i can’t praise it enough??? lmk if you want some good ways to consume the general fated storyline without super involving yrself with the main podcast. (although if you can get through the first few episodes the rest of it is a goddamn content goldmine and i could scream about it and the complexities of their bullshit for hours) (it is tinged by the presence of j*red and it will force you to remember that the jrwee gang is cis white guys but honestly watching them grow as people and as roleplayers is super rewarding i recommend it) (okay rant closed the work was beautiful bye)

been cooking this up all day. here’s another addition to the scythebelts fic pile + velrisa introspection (are you guys proud of me)

dicks out friday

no matter how many years stretch by, so long as both of us are alive, there is still a chance my father will permit me to die in his memory as something other than his daughter. that permission means he will die as something other than his father’s son. something better. something kinder.

in the ether of my mind, no matter which way it goes, we will meet on the other side. he will be twenty, thirty, again, trying to light a cigarette. i will stop, and hold out my lighter. the flame will dance; offering. it is up to him if he takes it.

there are theories that the self is all there is; the self is the universe’s entire consciousness, that you have been and will be every single person and thing in all of existence. all i know is that i keep my lighter forever topped-up with fuel. if i meet my father, on this corner or the next or the one after that, i will keep offering. in one of these worlds, on one of these corners, he accepts. in one of these worlds, we exhale plumes of tobacco smoke, soothing ourselves with nicotine as the world around us melts, warping into the open flame of the zippo.

in one of these worlds, we stand on the corner, watching the cars drive past, and my father walks down to a payphone and calls his father. when he hangs up after the first ring, i pick the receiver up. the operator asks where i’d like to call; tells me i paid for five minutes’ conversation. i stub my cigarette out underneath the keypad and tell her nevermind.

in the distance, the lights of a church basement glow up through barred windows at us. in another world, my father and i sit side by side, and pick up 24-hour chips, and drink shitty coffee. in another world, my father and i wear nicotine patches and lay brick. in another world, when i pick up the payphone, the operator informs me time is out on this receiver. please insert a quarter.

kyoya is grape

they should make ohshc vapes