#but let me know if you think it does!

[stardust-falling]

Hello.... Can I ask your top 5 (or top 3) favorite characters from SVSSS? And why you loved them? And your top 5 favorite moments from the series? Thanks if you want to answer....

Top 5 favorite characters:

1 - Shen Jiu 2/3 - Yue Qingyuan, Shen Yuan 4/5 - Luo Binghe, Gongyi Xiao

Honestly, it's super hard to decide my favorites, hence the 2/3, 4/5 here lmao. Depending on the meaning of "like" I really don't dislike any SV characters (obviously OPM, QJL, WYZ can go get fucked if we're talking about emotional affection/blorbofication, but I do still enjoy them in a meta sense for their roles in the story). But because SJ is both my favorite in terms of "I feel affection for this character and he is my little scrungly blorbo" as well as "I want to study him under a microscope like a bug" he gets the top spot easily.

Top five favorite moments is pretty hard too, since things are my favorite for different reasons... So I'll pick my favorite scenes for analysis, not necessarily for emotional reaction or attachment, in no particular order. Going under a cut because I rambled, as usual:

I really, really like the entire Holy Mausoleum arc, but I specifically like the part where SQQ and LBH are confronted by OPM and QHT. I feel like it's here that we can really see beneath the unreliable narrator and actually see that SQQ truly does love LBH back. Holy Mausoleum in general just says a lot about Bingqiu without saying it directly, and I do encourage everyone who thinks that SQQ doesn't actually love LBH back please reread that part while looking for it because damn, SQQ's narration tries to hide how much he actually cares for this boy.

Qijiu extras, the scene in the Lingxi caves. Between SJ's paranoid and irrational internal monologue that shows that despite everything, he really doesn't actually see himself as he is or as a legitimate peak lord, Yue Qingyuan's appearance at a critical moment to keep SJ from spiralling past the point of no return (contrasting this to his inability to return to Qiu Manor in time), the fact that even though they are not on good terms, YQY is still able to calm SJ down from qi deviation, and that SJ tolerates both his presence and his touch, it shows a lot that despite his paranoia and his hurt, a part of Shen Jiu still trusts Yue Qingyuan. The fact that it's revealed that they're in the very cave that YQY was trapped in with Xuan Su is just the icing on the cake... the truth is laid out before them, just a step from being revealed, but still isn't... I just think this scene really is so important to show how 79's relationship stands on a deep level, both the trust that is still there as well as the barriers.

Skinner demon confrontation, after they're captured. The irony of the first mission being to take down a demon that's literally wearing someone else's identity as their own is great. There's also Luo Binghe's sexual awakening upon seeing SQQ shirtless, which is honestly quite funny to me as an ace person. But my favorite thing, I think, is the way that SQQ sets up Die'er's defeat by using LBH as bait which, while it is successful due to the genre's conventions, also makes Luo Binghe's trust waver... it sort of sets the tone for the entire emotional conflict of the novel. Despite SQQ knowing that LBH will be fine, since it has all been decreed by plot, he underestimates how much it will hurt him-- and he's thinking about hurting LBH in terms of how it will affect SQQ himself later on, rather than LBH's own pain. Then, afterwards, SQQ leaves LBH behind to go into seclusion, he gives LBH the new manual but doesn't move him out of the woodshed, and there's no indication that Ming Fan's bullying stopped during that time either. When SQQ returns, he ends up sacrificing himself and taking the poisoned hit for LBH... in a way this all just parallels the actual plot of the novel in short-form and I think that's very, very neat.

The water prison arc-- everything from LBH's visit where he stops LPM from attacking SQQ, where SQQ refuses to answer LBH's question because of his inaccurate perception of the situation, LBH's volatile emotions in this sequence, Gongyi Xiao's assumptions that LBH had assaulted SQQ and SQQ's complete obliviousness to that possibility, plus just GYX being the best boy ever tbh, he doesn't deserve to live in this messed up book and certainly doesn't deserve to die. This sequence has so much about how inaccurate perceptions of situations can lead to wildly off-base interpretations and how a lack of proper communication can escalate a conflict where it really didn't need to escalate. The "perceptions and interpretations vs. reality" idea is another major theme in SV, and this sequence really showcases a lot of that in a clear way.

Maigu Ridge. This one's controversial. A lot of people have a lot of opinions about it and let me just make a disclaimer that I'm not including this one because I enjoyed reading it on an emotional level. Maigu Ridge is FUCKED UP!! It's a massively fucked up situation for all parties! It's uncomfortable, and definitely something that warrants a trigger warning before reading the book-- and yet, it's so interesting to analyze from a hypothetical standpoint because the situation is just so, so messy in terms of who gives consent and who doesn't-- and does anyone really have the option to consent here, since both parties are under the complete control of the narrative-- in terms of who hurts who, etc. There are a lot of little details to debate, and of course there's the instant, knee-jerk surface reaction that people get, which I can totally understand especially if you didn't go in expecting this sort of scene and ended up getting triggered by it, but once you start to peel back the layers you can actually find that this scene is way more complicated than 'one party as the aggressor/one party as the victim.' It's a deconstruction and subversion of tropes, but also a really interesting place to analyze themes of consent as a whole, and the effects on the individuals involved. For this, honestly, people just need to remember that these are fictional characters. It's not saying anything about IRL survivors, and I'm a major proponent of considering massively fucked up situations through a fictional lens in order to understand the shades of gray that may exist in similar but less-extreme situations in real life, without the possibility of your deliberations causing harm to any party since in the fictional scenario, since none of the characters are real (I can't even begin to tell you how much of my own trauma I've processed based on extreme fictional scenarios). But on the flip side, if the scene upsets you or triggers you, it's perfectly valid to dislike it! It's also perfectly valid for you to dislike the Bingqiu relationship because of it! It's not for everyone and I completely get that, but also, keep in mind that people analyzing the scene in different ways doesn't have anything to do with how they'd react to real-life situations. It's all about what works best for each person.

Anyway that last one got really long, just because I've seen so much knee-jerk reaction in fandom with it and tbh, I feel like I have to cover my bases these days.

A lot of people say that SVSSS is less well-written than MXTX's other books, and while it does have issues, I wouldn't say that the book isn't well-written. I have no idea how much of what I talked about in those scenes above is deliberately intentional storytelling and how much just sort of happened, but those are just some of the reasons that I really do think it's actually a very good book, genuinely, and not the only scenes at that, I just limited to five here.

I hope you enjoyed reading all my ramblings-- SVSSS brainrot is real and the hyperfixation is going strong haha.

[deoidesign]

I animated a trailer for my webcomic and it took forever

Please look!

[suppressiveperson]

black hole opened in the kitchen

[dreamofbecoming]

listen i know we all love steve “completely ignorant of queer culture to the point that bisexuality is a surprise” harrington being roasted and educated in turns by robin and eddie, yadda yadda, good stuff. i read “they made a horror version of rocky?” in a fic recently and cackled. also a big fan of “he knew he was bi from the start and just never talked about it” as a trope, love it excellent well done

but what about steve who realizes after starcourt that the most important person in his life now has this thing that’s a major part of her life that he knows nothing about, and what if he fucks it up? what if he says something ignorant or rude by accident, and hurts her? what if he loses her because he didn’t know the right thing to say? what if he can’t keep her safe because he doesn’t know what to look out for? absolutely fucking not, this steve says

and listen she’d never say anything, because she can tell that he can tell how much she likes teasing him and teaching him things, so he plays dumb, and she thinks it’s very sweet. but she notices when the zines she keeps under her bed that she buys at that one secret bookshop in indy when she can sneak away on family trips start going missing, always one at a time, and replaced in a few days with another disappearing. and she finds the new ones he must have gone to buy the weekend she was at her aunt’s house hidden in the back of his closet when she goes to steal one of his sweaters. and she notices when he slips more of her queerer movie recommendations into his personal take home pile rather than the movie night stack when he thinks she’s not looking.

she doesn’t notice when he drives to indianapolis after she tries to explain to him why she can’t just ask out a cute girl, tries to impress on him the fear attached to every moment of attraction that he simply has never had to feel, but later she finds a crumpled receipt from a diner in one of his jacket pockets when she’s looking for his keys, and the address is across the street from the bar the gorgeous woman at the bookstore told her about, the one she memorized the address of but hasn’t worked up the guts to think about visiting, and she knows he must have gone looking for a place like that, must have been trying to understand, must have been scoping it out to make sure it was somewhere she could feel safe, after she told him she never had.

so when eddie nearly pops a blood vessel when they clock each other and she mentions that steve is the only person she’s ever come out to before, her hackles come up. because she gets it, she does, he’s only known king steve until recently, so it makes sense that he would be afraid, be concerned for her safety.

but steve is her person, and no one- no one- has ever made her feel as protected or as cared for as he does. no one has ever tried as hard to understand her, no one has ever put so much work into making her feel safe and seen and loved. and she thinks maybe even if no one else ever does, that’s ok. because she has steve, and more importantly steve has her, and that means no one gets to question his ally credentials in her presence without a dressing down to remember, no matter how well they mean or how recently they helped save the world.

(and maybe she’s not as surprised as she could be when he figures out bisexuality all on his own, because she’s been reading all the same pamphlets he has, after all. and she’s seen the way he looks at eddie, i mean come on. maybe no one else has noticed, but then, nobody knows steve harrington like she does.)

[bleh1bleh2]

"Hey Keith, what else is in your belt pouches?"

Keiths belt pouches 2/2

[the-force-awakens]

Still not used to this life or death situation stuff. That's good, 'cause I'm not either. You never get used to it.

[cardo-de-comer]

Hey! The way you drew Mr. Qi makes me feral, thank you. I love that man in a way one would love their neighborhood cat. Mysterious, I wish to know more of where he comes from, who he is, yet it's better to be kept secret. Again, thank you for drawing him in such a nice way, loved it, will continue to love it, and once I've sent this ask, I shall continue to stare at it like the feral animal I am over that man. Thank you.

thank you anon! <3 i miss him lots lately so here's some sketches

[crescentfool]

orpheus and thanatos 💚

[m-for-now]

As someone who is genderfae (microlabel under genderfluid), I have a lot of different experiences with gender.

I just wish someone told me sooner that it won't go like "today I'm a girl" "today I'm an enby" but more like ,,, "today I am a swamp witch" "today I am a feminine victorian vampire boy" "today I am a forest goblin collecting people's stares about my gender expression like shiny rocks on the ground" "today I'm an androgynous pirate lady"

Like,,, sure, are those real genders? I don't fucking now. If a cisgender person asked me what I identify as that day, would I answer like that? No, definitely not.

But to my genderqueer, trans and genderfluid friends; do you get me? I can't be alone with this, right?

[thesunisatangerine]

against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part six

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

warnings: explicit descriptions of violence, blood, and death

(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]

word count: 3.3k

You had to get out of there.

Tremors shook the ground as another shell made impact somewhere far to your right but it was close enough that the explosion left your ears ringing. You flattened your back further against the fallen wall behind you when you heard the unmistakeable sound of gunfire, the rubble that cut into your skin barely registered in your mind from the adrenaline that rushed through you. But the cacophony of noise amalgamated into something continuous, something malevolent and cruel; something that promised death in its wake. 

Bullets embedded themselves in a column, a wall, a body–everywhere–and fine pieces of debris flew and pelted against the exposed skin of your cheeks and against your helmet. Your eyes watered from the fine powder of pulverised cement and the oppressive heat, while your lungs were smothered by smoke and a choking stench–something like freshly-laid asphalt mixed with the distinct, rancid smell of burnt human flesh, sulphuric and sharp. 

Through lidded eyes you witnessed the depravity; the extent of humanity’s appetite for senseless destruction and anarchy. It was total chaos–no, it was worse than that: it was butchery and brutality at its finest; a type of hell on earth.

All around you were bodies upon bodies, men and women alike–children. Their faces, frozen and pallid, permanently bore imprints of terror and agony; their crooked fingers and still eyes fixated to the sky imploring in violent judgment–resentful and anguished in their silence–the unspoken question: 

Why?

Why? 

Why?

Everything overwhelmed you all at once: the sight and the smell made your stomach churn to no end. Even when you heaved the remnants of your stomach to the ground, the nausea remained, pulsing and gnawing.

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you brought your camera to your eye and you willed the shaking in your bones to still. 

You took a shot. 

Another round of bullets splattered to a nearby wall and this time, you threw yourself front-first to the ground and you felt the rhythm of your heart reverberating against the mud. And a sinking feeling hit you. You’d bore witness to many conflicts, faced mortal peril, and was familiar to death like it was an old friend. Each time you were in such a situation, hopelessness never got the better of you–it was like you’d always known you were going to make it out each time. 

This time it was different, you could feel it in your bones. You were going to die here and it wasn’t a matter of if, just when and how. 

But you had a job. If you were going to die, you would die being the mouthpiece for the ones who’d already been silenced–from their premature deaths or from the hand of the power meant to protect them or both–to show the world what they’d suffered, what they’d sacrificed.

With that in mind, you steeled yourself. You loaded your camera with another ring of film, fingers stiff from the cold and marred by blood and mud, and you captured the scene.

Repeat.

There were people screaming, running, clamouring for survival. As you moved with them, you kept an eye out for other survivors who needed help to get out of there. You scanned the faces for the familiar ones of Jones and Gilda but they were nowhere to be seen. You’d lost track of them after the initial explosion and the chaos that followed so the only thing you could do now was to look for them as you went and hope for their safety. 

Meter by meter, inch by inch, you moved slowly away from the direction of gunfire. You were farther ahead now but the gunners were still dangerously close, still close enough to be able to catch up to where you were if they continued their pursuit, so you remained crouched and cautious for any sound that could indicate danger. 

When you came across the rubble of a fallen building–freshly destroyed by artillery from the smoke that came from it–you heard a whimper. It startled you; the softness of the sound barely pierced through the ringing in your ear but when you peered under a slab of concrete braced by a rugged beam, you caught sight of a scene that shattered what was left of your heart.

In the shadows, big eyes that you could not mistaken belonged to a child shone with terror, a little girl that looked no more than ten years of age, her mouth partly open in fear. You could discern another person next to the child but they weren’t moving at all and from the blood smeared on the girl’s cheek, you had a sinking feeling that the other person was dead. 

Gunfire echoed somewhere behind you and you flinched at its closeness. How did they get so close so fast? You needed to get the both of you out of there. If you could save this child’s life then maybe, just maybe, your life was worth something after all. 

You raised both of your hands up and spoke gently, hoping the little girl would be able to understand that you were there to help as you stooped to fit through the gap. The child hesitated and receded further back into the rubble so you tried again as you inched closer to where the other person laid unresponsive, patient despite the ever-closing sound of shots being fired. 

You reached the other person–a woman–and when you placed two fingers against her pulsepoint and found no rhythm, you bit your quivering lip and looked at the child, chest heavy. And as if the little girl finally understood that you meant no harm, she inched towards you and placed her small hand in your open one. With a firm yet gentle grip on the girl, you guided the both of you out of the rubble.

Once outside, you carried the little girl behind a wall, heart breaking when you felt her shiver and at the fact that it took little effort carry to her for she weighed so little. And now with light and cover, you inspected the little girl.

To your relief, other than the trail of flaking blood that originated from the crown of her head and on her cheeks, the little girl looked like she didn’t sustain any other physical injuries. Satisfied for the time being you began to tend to her, gave her water and what little food you had on you, and then wiped away the blood.

After she finished, you detached the velcro of your bulletproof vest and unbuckled your helmet before you put them on the little girl. Then you hoisted the girl up on your back, leaving your camera dangling heavily on your chest.

You managed to sneak across the district without being noticed but you knew the danger was never far away. A little farther on, you began to recognise key landmarks that let you know you were close to the base you came from. So even when the muscles in your legs protested for you to rest, you pushed on.  

Not a moment later though did loud shots fill the air and immediately, you fell to the ground, feeling fine rubble and shrapnels cut into the side you landed on as you manoeuvred your body so that the child wouldn’t get hurt. The little girl cried out and adrenaline coursed through your veins, instinct driving you to keep the child safe so you pushed the two of you against a nearby wall, your back to the open space while you shielded the child with your body, her head safely caged between your arms and chest.

You craned your head over your shoulders to figure out where the shots were fired but then a feeling of lightness passed through you followed by a growing thickness at the back of your throat. You coughed, the force of it made you keel forward, and as you looked down you saw fresh blood splattered on the face of the girl, her eyes wide with horror as she looked up at you.

Then you felt it, a burning sensation that enveloped the entirety of your right side which left you cold. When you looked to your side your shirt clung to your skin, soaked with blood.

No. 

You sputtered again and you tried to breathe but the pain only intensified and instead of feeling relief, the act smothered you–it felt like you were drowning. Then everything began to blend together: the shapes lost their edges and some images doubled, but the light seemed to intensify on its own, swallowing all in its wake. Then you sagged forward and the ringing in you ears, too, blared unceasingly.

No.

You must… 

The child… 

Wait. 

Alexia–

“–are you okay?”

You started as Derek’s voice brought you from your reverie, your mind someplace else that you’d already forgotten but the feeling that you were missing something important lingered behind in the back of your mind.

“Huh?” 

“Honey, your brother’s been trying to get your attention for the past minute. Are you alright?” The familiar voice of your mom brought your focus to her. She sat at the head of the long table while Derek opposite you, and you found twin pairs of blue eyes looking at you with concern. Your mom stood, chair scraping against the tiled floor as she did and she made her way towards you. She put a palm over your forehead once she was close enough before she asked, “do you have a fever?”

“Mom, I’m fine. I’m just–” You began but suddenly, a wave of exhaustion came over you which left you cold. It was as if a sheet of ice was put over you and you felt the coldness cling to your bones, weighing you down as your body slowly began to freeze over. “I’m–I’m just tired. I think I’ll rest up now.” 

When you moved to stand, staggering slightly due to the weakness in your knees, Derek snatched your hands and clung to them, and you looked at him in alarm, eyes wide.

“Please, don’t. Don’t.” He said through gritted teeth, the corners of his mouth drooped low in a pained grimace, blue eyes glazed over and brows furrowed in a silent plea. 

His obsecration confused you and you were about to ask him why you shouldn’t rest if you felt tired when your mother placed a hand on your shoulder, her grip gentle yet firm. You turned to her and when you found her gaze, she wore the same expression as your brother. 

“You’re brother’s right, honey. Just–please, just stay with us for a bit more.” 

What was going on? Why weren’t they letting you go?

Another wave of fatigue doused over you but this time, pain erupted from your chest. So intense was it that it nearly made you keel over the table, nails digging into its hard surface as you tried to catch your breath but with each inhale the more it felt like you were running out of air.

“I’ll–I’ll join you in a bit. I just… I just need a nap.” You staggered to your feet, pulling your hands away from Derek’s grip with the remaining strength you had and brushed off your mom’s protest.

As you passed the full-body mirror just beside your bedroom door, you saw your reflection, haggard and pale, and with her were the familiar silhouettes of the people that haunted you… your mother and father. They stood there behind you–your mother to your right and your father to the left–but you only found an empty space where they stood when you whipped your head back to look for them.

So there you stood, rooted in front of the mirror as you soaked their images in but for some reason, your couldn’t quite discern their faces. They were blurred; it was as if someone had swiped their thumb over the freshly laid ink of their image and made their features indecipherable. 

Longing prompted you to reach out a hand to try and trace the lost edges of their faces but instead of meeting the mirror’s smooth surface like you expected, your fingers sank into the mirror like it was made of water. Quickly, in fear that it would hurt you, you retracted your hand and you watched in awe as the mirror image went still again, back to the reflection of yourself and your parents.

Then out of curiosity you plunged your hand again into the mirror and instead of feeling pain, you felt… nothing. The sensations in your hand in the mirror stopped as if it had ceased to exist completely. 

Would it soothe then the pain in your body if you stepped into it?

The thought tempted you and you stepped forward, ready to sink into this silver miracle, but something stopped you–a weight on your shoulder pulled you back from the mirror. You staggered backwards, caught off guard from the force of it, but when you looked back you found nobody however this time, when you returned your attention to the mirror, the reflection of your parents was gone. 

Emotions bubbled in your throat, bitter grief and burning confusion a familiar taste on your tongue. Where did they go? Why did they leave you? And as these questions filtered through your mind, another wave of exhaustion doused over you, its weight was unbearable. You needed relief, and soon.

You were ready to step into the mirror–into oblivion–but it wasn’t there anymore. In fact, everywhere you looked there was nothing, just negative space as if the light had dissolved all existence but you. You looked down and you saw your reflection on the still water you were apparently standing on. 

It was so still, so peaceful, and you feel so heavy. It would be easy to just sink into this blissful nothingness–this silence–after… that’s right, after having witnessed the revolting boil of humanity’s thirst for blood. Yes, that was it, the reason you were here: you were here to forget. 

The longer you stared into the water, the more your will to remain standing frayed. 

Not a moment later, you let yourself be plunged downwards into the cold water. Into nothingness. 

You woke with a start, breathing sharply as you did, the sensation of falling still with you and the memory of the dream you just had lingered. It was about… what was it?

When you opened your eyes, you found golden light and you squinted at the stream of the early sun that found its way through the gap between the heavy curtains. Your cheek was warm against Alexia’s bare back and you relished the way her muscles shifted beneath her skin as she breathed, still deep asleep. 

With her so close like this a sense of peace and calm washed over you, the kind that only Alexia’s presence could provide. You turned your head slightly and shifted closer to her, pressing a soft kiss on one of her shoulder blades before you nuzzled the nape of her neck where her scent was most prominent.

You sighed as you breathed her in.

“What are you up to back there?” Alexia’s voice, rough and heavy from slumber, met your ears and the question elicited a small laugh from you.

“Nothing. Just getting comfortable.”

Alexia hummed then she murmured, “come here.”

You moved as she began to turn and disappointment filled you from the separation but when she pulled you into her embrace after she settled on her back, the disappointment quickly faded away. And when she kissed you, soft and languid, everything melted away except for the tender warmth of Alexia’s lips.

You were content.

Suddenly, a gnawing feeling seeped into the edges of your mind and, little by little by little, apprehension filled you. There was something you’d forgotten, somewhere you needed to be.

You pulled away from Alexia’s lips. “What time is it?”

“Don’t go.”

Her answer jarred you. You lifted yourself up on your elbow and considered Alexia, confused as to why she would say such a thing. She knew you had to go. How could you not go? Where else could you possibly be? So you asked her as much.

“No, you don’t have to. Please.” Alexia placed a hand on your cheek, her eyes glassy. You sighed, turned your cheek away from her touch, and extricated yourself from her warm embrace. You stood at the foot of the bed and regarded Alexia again who was now sitting up, the sheets pooled around her waist, her chest bare, shoulders hunched forward as she looked at you. You only shook your head before you went into the en suite bathroom to get ready.

Once you got in the shower you, unsurprisingly, thought of Alexia and your confusion returned twofold. Why was she making this difficult? She knew you had to go. You already told her… 

At that thought, you frowned as you tried to remember. When did you tell her? Why did you need to leave? The questions were beginning to make your head hurt so you left the shower, wrapped yourself in a towel and headed to the closet. In there, you found your stack of simple white clothes. You picked a white shirt and a matching pair of jeans and you made your way to the bedroom door. 

As you passed by the bed, you saw Alexia just as you left her and from where you stood, you saw how small she looked. And those eyes… they shone with something you could only name as plea, the tears in them now in danger of falling. 

Your chest ached and so did your head. 

You shook your head and made your way to Alexia, pressed an apologetic kiss against her temples, then you moved to the door.

You opened it and an abyss greeted you, a world of no outlines, shape nor colour, just a brilliant white that called to you. Its pull was magnetic, like a tide that wanted to sweep you away, but there was something keeping you in place, an invisible tether and it was anchored to the woman sitting in your bed.

“Please, don’t go.”

You had one foot out of the door when Alexia spoke with such gentleness you couldn’t do anything but look over your shoulder. The sight of her crying made the pounding in your temples unbearable and the pain in your chest blazed anew, excruciating and cruel. The world blurred and warmth slipped down your cheeks. 

Why were you crying? Why was this difficult? You had to leave, you were about to miss something important.

“Alexia, why?” You sobbed, clutching your chest. It hurt.

She was out of the bed now, right beside you, and she reached out and cupped your face with one hand, the other went to your hand on the door handle. Her touch that used to soothe you, that used to bring you peace and clam, sent pain to every nerve in your body. You gasped, your chest was in danger of bursting and your knees lost their strength. And then you remembered why you needed to leave: you needed this pain to disappear; you had to get better.

Finally, your knees buckled under your weight but Alexia was there to catch you, her body strong and firm, and oh, so warm.

“Alexia, please let me go,” you sobbed into her arms. 

Everything hurt. But she held you, unyielding.

“Stay. Please, stay with me,” she whispered in your ear and the words were followed by another wave of pain. This time, you screamed in agony and clawed at Alexia’s shoulders to get yourself away but still, she didn’t budge.

“I got you. I got you. I got you,” she repeated as every nerve in your body screamed at you. Everything coalesced into a singular, never-ending noise but Alexia’s voice pierced through the veil like a silver lining, a life line that you held onto as you were washed away into an ocean of light.

[katabay]

original thief series basso & garrett :)

ngl, it's about quality over quantity for me. an npc can have a total of three minutes of screen time, but if they have a cool name, they can live rent free in my head and I'll spend several hours trying to decipher drawable features from a blurry screenshot of pixels

there is a vague hint of a story here, and that's because every time I try to play thi4f, I get incredibly frustrated with how Not Fun the game play is. like, is the story good? well. but it has a PLAGUE. that should've given it instant 'I'll replay this once a year' status in my heart, but the game play sucks so bad that I've never finished it. I can't believe Not Fun gameplay beat out my obsession with narrative plagues.

anyway, the idea is basically if the original era had a game with a plague centric narrative and some other stuff I liked out of thi4f thrown into a narrative blender, with a heavy dash of horror thrown in because some parts of the thief games were scarier to me than entire dedicated horror genre games.

⭐ places I’m at! bsky / pixiv / pillowfort /cohost / cara.app

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Broken Roofs and Fixed Perspectives

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[pinkd3mon]

Kirby deals with existential crisis and Bandana is a good friend

[saetoshi]

itoshi sae hates laundry day ever since your dryer broke.

(he broke it. neither of you know what he did, but he broke it and he hasn’t bought a new one since.)

he especially hates when it rains. it means he’s stuck with a pile of wet clothes and no place to dry them in.

it also means he’s stuck sitting in front of the doors to your balcony, glaring at the sky when he realizes the rain isn’t going to let up soon.

he hears the front door open, signaling your arrival. he makes no move to look at you, but he greets you back when you call out to him.

“it’s raining.”

“i know,” he sighs in annoyance.

“do we have a bucket?”

“i think so,” he gets up from his spot on the floor with a groan, “why?”

he turns his head in your direction, eyes widening in panic when he sees you standing by the door, soaking wet.

you point at the clothes clinging to your body, “it’s raining hard.”

“i know,” he rushes to you, “why’re you drenched?”

“i could’ve sworn i packed your umbrella,” he clicks his tongue, lifting up your arms to get you out of your shirt.

you kick your pants off, “it broke.”

he picks up your clothes, dragging you to the bathroom. he tosses your clothes in the sink, gently pushing you into the shower.

he takes his phone out to check the weather, slightly frowning when he realizes it won’t let up for at least another hour.

he relaxes when he hears the shower head running. “i made food.”

the corners of his lips quirk up when you groan in disgust.

“couldn’t you have ordered delivery or something?” he can hear the distress on your voice.

“it would’ve taken too long to arrive,” he bites back his smile, “plus, i was starving.”

you whine. he laughs, “eating my food once won’t kill you.”

“last time you cooked,” the shower head turns off, “we had to rush to the hospital because you gave me food poisoning.”

you stick your arm out of the shower door.

“first off,” he hands you a towel. “you were already sick.”

“and,” he grins when you step out of the shower, towel snug around your shivering frame, “if my food had, in fact, poisoned you as you say, then why was i completely fine?”

you glare, averting your gaze from his, a soft huff slipping past your lips. “you tell me.”

you perk up, turning your head towards the sink. “why are my clothes in the sink?”

“the washer’s full with our laundry.”

you turn to look at him, blinking curiously. “why didn’t you throw them in there, then?”

“the clothes in the washer are already clean.”

“oh.” you sway on your feet, “you haven’t dried them?”

sae shakes his head, a dry smile on his lips, “it’s raining really hard.”

and amused hum leaves your lips, “you really need to buy a new dryer.”

“i know,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “i’ll do it tomorrow.”

there’s a beat of silence.

“sae.”

he looks at you.

you point at the sink, “those were the only clean clothes i had left.”

he blinks. you blink back, a sheepish smile on your lips. he sighs before taking off his shirt and offering it to you.

“that’s the only clean shirt you have left too, isn’t it?” you tentatively reach out to grab it, motioning for him to turn around.

“how’d you know?”

you slip the shirt over your head, smiling at his curious tone, “it’s the only big shirt you have.”

“you also said you’d be caught dead before wearing it out in public,” you laugh in amusement.

(he did say that. the very first day you saw him in it, actually. it’s officially become his ‘i’ve got nothing else left to wear’ shirt.)

“whatever,” his ears flush, “can i turn around now?”

you hum, pressing a kiss to his cheek when he does. he kisses your forehead in return.

“c’mon.” sae tugs you out of the bathroom.

“where are we going?”

“kitchen.” he turns to look at you, a mischievous smile on his face, “you haven’t eaten yet.”

a horrified expression paints your face. he laughs at you. you try to wriggle out of his grasp, “i’m not hungry!”

“oh, please,” he rolls his eyes, “you’ll be fine.”

“itoshi sae,” you cry, “if i die i’m leaving everything i own to your little brother!”

“you don’t even know him.”

you sulk, “he still deserves it more than you!”

he scoffs, “it’s not like i’m the one doing your laundry or anything.”

“you broke my dryer.”

“i’ll buy you a new one.” he glances out the window. it’s not raining as hard. (he hopes it stops soon.)

“it better be a good one.”

he looks back at you, a smile tugs at his lips to return the one on your face. you both fall silent, the soft pitter patter of the rain against your windows being the only sound in the apartment.

you stay like that for a bit, the sound of rain soothing both of you. until you hear a thunderclap. sae’s eyes widen at the same time yours do. you stare at each other for a few seconds.

your lips form into a fine line, “we should order a dryer.”

“yeah,” he sounds breathless.

“we should do it now.”

“yeah.” he dumbly nods his head. “we should.”

[secretlythatsme]

ALSO for your angst dpxdc consideration: danny would absolutely still be considered a meta. the term "meta" is used in a very vague, umbrella way where basically anyone who isn't a normal human is a meta. so even without the proper meta gene, danny would still be considered a meta by basically everyone (especially bruce). canonically speaking, danny isn't just a normal booooo kinda ghost - he also has some insane powers (like his ghost wail!) so he'd be considered a person with superpowers and therefore a meta.

so when you're writing dpxdc fics, please consider this! danny would be a meta in the dcu! kick that kid out of gotham!!!!

[zukosdualdao]

i'm literally insane about the last agni kai and the lightning scene(s). i swear i've rewatched it 10+ times since my last rewatch of the show (which was my first watch in years) and like. azula sees katara come into view from behind. zuko doesn't. he follows azula's gaze and sees katara and is immediately horrified. he doesn't even think or hesitate because he doesn't have time and for once he doesn't have to look back at azula to figure out what she's doing because he knows what she's doing and he won't let it happen. time dwindling into slow motion as a haunting score plays? and zuko literally yelling out "no!" because that lightning absolutely cannot hit katara. as soon as he sees it there's no chance of that ever happening. and then katara watching in horror as the lightning flashes against features in what is probably one of the most hauntingly beautiful animated moments of the show? zuko hitting the ground still convulsing with lightning and katara crying out "zuko!" and immediately trying to run to him before azula attacks again? and the next scene we cut back to with them, zuko is groaning weakly and trying to lift himself up, and we see katara literally gasp in surprise as she realizes he's still alive (i'm sobbing because i do quite literally think she thought he was dead) and immediately tries to run to him again, nevermind that she knows azula is still there, and the hand katara uses for healing is already doused in water as she reaches for him. but then azula starts attacking again. and zuko, despite literally being in so much pain that he can't stand and can barely even move at all without whimpering, still tries to reach for the spot where he can see azula attacking katara. katara is forced to hide from azula's attacks. and as azula is mocking "zuzu, you don't look so good" down to zuko, the perspective shot is such that you can SEE that katara is also looking at where he lies prone in the distance, surrounded by flame (probably wondering how much time they have before it really is too late) before looking back up at azula and realizing she needs to defeat her as quickly and handily as possible so katara can get to zuko. obviously katara would have done this anyway (the whole reason they were THERE was to halt the continued cycle of the imperialist regime of the fire nation), but the scene is specifically framed as katara trying to figure out how to stop azula so the obstacle to her getting to zuko is no longer in the way. katara's defeat of azula was epic and deserves its own post. but then after making sure azula is securely chained, she runs to zuko, looks at him with such immense sadness and horror and fear as she hears him in so much pain, tenderly turns him over so she can get a good look at the wound. and she cups his head? briefly but so gently? so that he won't hit it as she turns him over? and when she tries to heal him you can tell she is so genuinely unsure if it will even work, and so relieved that she starts crying tears of joy when she sees it has (at least enough to keep him alive and somewhat lessen his pain.) they thank each other (and you can tell it's still really hard for zuko to talk and his eyes are barely open but he thanks her anyways i'm.) and she thanks him back and!!! when he starts to try to sit up she makes a little surprised face and then immediately helps him to do so (and puts a tender hand to his chest while she does!!!) and obviously that last shot of them standing together is also one of emotional support, but katara's hand on his back is also partly because i still think (and certainly katara still thinks) trying to walk/stand on his own would be a bad idea, so it's definitely not happening.