#I'm so ready for this thread

[shrews-art]

The child queen of a world born anew!! What will she do!

[lunameimei]

Red String of Fate

[stillsolo]

appreciation post for @lncarnon !! han has been lost in the warframe universe for 8+ years, and teshin still hasn't given up on this fool 💕

[milinight]

𐑺 𖹭᪲ ੭         𝅄   𝆬            plotted starter for @puckboi !

𐚁 ݁. . .         "  i'm  gonna  .  .  "  she  hiccups,  "  text  hyunmin  to  come  pick  me  up.  "  and  with  that  declaration,  millie,  blissfully  drunk  and  draped  across  the  shoulder  of  a  university  friend  in  the  VIP  booth  of  the  club,  begins  her  mission.  her  glassy  eyes  squint  at  the  screen,  thumbs  fumbling  as  her  friend  desperately  tries  to  pry  the  phone  from  her  grip,  murmuring  that  texting  her  most  toxic  ex  was  possibly  the  worst  idea  of  the  night.  but  millie  was  past  the  point  of  caring,  as  she  just  wanted  to  go  home.  launching  the  messaging  app  with  determination,  she  scrolls  through  her  contacts,  zeroing  in  on  the  name  she  assumes  is  hyunmin  and  begins  typing  furiously.  a  string  of  messages  fired  off  in  rapid,  tipsy  succession  before  she  slumps  backward  in  exhaustion.  except,  as  fate  (  and  a  few  too  many  tequila  shots  )  would  have  it,  she  hadn't  messaged  hyunmin  at  all.  nope.  because  those  texts  went  straight  to  another  one  of  her  '  banned  '  numbers  .  .  they  were  sent  to  hyunsoo  instead.

[ hyunsoo ‼️DNI‼️] can u pcik mne up . . [ hyunsoo ‼️DNI‼️] i'm dfrink [ hyunsoo ‼️DNI‼️] dRINk [ hyunsoo ‼️DNI‼️] ( location shared 📍 )

[diaospuppy]

Latest SunNuea update (x)

[pumpkinhcad]

INBOX CALL. Oh yeah, and because I need to break the ice with you guys, like this post if you want me to go through your Memes Tag and send you something! I'll do it slowly but surely, while I'm not working on my drafts, but I just really wanna interact with everyone I haven't interacted with yet!

[sercphs]

⠀⠀⠀⠀Throws her controller across the room, causing it to explode upon impact with the wall across the way.

[brilliantorinsane]

I know I said I'd hold off on the queer case reads as a treat for myself if I finish the core analysis posts/data gathering for the whole series, but I'm reconciling myself to breaking that rule for Shy Ballerina. The web of inference I have assembled for this episode is absurd, but I enjoy it and have invested too much thought to let myself forget without putting it all into words. And I'm fairly certain that even if I took extensive notes I wouldn't be able to reconstruct what the fuck I was on about a year from now. So, get ready for my farthest fetched interpretive work yet, featuring:

The many hats of John Watson

The legal precarity of a man sharing clothes with another man

When you try to ask out your crush then get scared and blame it on the ADHD

Gay Mr. Chelton

Gay Mr. Chelton as a Watson mirror

The lavender scare-coded blackmailing that wasn't

The deadly spider's web of heteronormativity

Watson as Eros/a hero with broken feet

Tchikovsky

[cagcdlxve]

@drunkelreporter ⋆˙⟡ Yestereve Starter

⋆˙⟡ It was a quiet evening among the hills of Fanalea. The sun was finally beginning to rest, making way for the moons and stars to take their full forms. The air was still, albeit chilled without the warmth of the sun. Lilith sat in among the hills. Her mind wandered as she aimlessly made flowers among her fingertips.

She thought long of life. The words she said to Myst so long ago. There was beauty in these temporary things, but she found herself in sorrow instead. Everything she had ever known was that. She expected things to end. But she hadn't realized how hard it would be to let go.

Her mind screamed they were right. She wished it weren't so.

The aimless thoughts stopped all of a sudden as she heard footsteps behind her. Frightened at first by who they could have belonged to, only to find relief in an old familiar face.

" Oh- Sir Roberto! " She smiled warmly, little lilies and poppies springing around her fingers. " What brings you out to these fields at this hour? "

[musicalthought]

I FINALLY finished drv3 and I'm fucking losing my mind

[daandov]

continued from here - @recitedemise

off in the corner of vilemyr inn , the tiefling is curled in the warm womb of that little , aubergine , empty bottle that's tipped over on the table in front of her. FINALLY. everything is quiet again. searing flame that wrapped it's dragon's maw around the shelving of her ribs has simmered down to nothing more than soft coals. his voice echoes from far away , until her eyes open and with a lazy grin , she's peering up at her wizard as if , yes , he could move entire worlds for her.

right. he's here. successfully stole him away , she did. enticed him with the promise of adventure and more. just as she's always wanted. ( hadn't expected this whole dovahkiin business to really throw her off course but she's ever one to roll with the punches. as is he. oh what a pair. ) " oh. . . have i hit a nerve ?? " her voice lilts in jest , the initial wave of euphoria that rabbits her heart finally passing and making way for her preferred state of numbness. " LAH PAAR. . . " the dovahzul words curl around her tongue and fill her mouth , new and delicious.

gale shows off his winnings and she shifts so that she isn't so slumped down against the wall their table was tucked against. it brings their faces closer as if they were but two conspiring ne'er do wells. claw absentmindedly twisting the string of his weathered cloak as the world gently swims ─── she doesn't recognize the disgruntled faces that eye them across the comfortable pyre that warms the inn. " mm and what'd you do this time for it ?? illusion on some dice , maybe cards ?? or did you use your natural charm and wit ?? enough for the night ?? " one more and they could make it to forelhost ─── though had it been just her on her own [ ... ] well of course there would've been no time to stop , would there ??

[magnifiico]

@charroblanco || cont.

He’s felt a weight like this before. He’s felt—no, he’s endured—grief he’s spent his entire life convinced could never be worse. Never heavier. Never deeper, wider, more excruciating of a void in his chest. All this time, Magnifico has wondered how that could even be fair: how an emptiness could hurt so much— There’s nothing there. There’s nothing there. So why does it burn him from the inside out and spread an insatiable inferno through every bone—?

Why is he on fire? Why is he— Why is he here?

The thought process was, at the time and even now, nonexistent. He’s been working on impulse ever since opening that book, welcoming in that devastatingly powerful magic despite knowing precisely what that meant: the sacrifices he’d readily make all for the sake of—! 

Enough. Back to the present. That was then, this is now. Here.

He’s here because of so many reasons Magnifico can’t count—and so many more he doesn’t yet understand. He’s here because suddenly, inexplicably, he remembers how to breathe for the first time since that magic took hold of him, because he needs only to meet a world-ending, soft understanding in that gaze to feel his impulses have steered him right. He’s here. Because, by the end of all this, he’ll look back and think to himself, Yes, of course. Where else would I have been?

But in that “here,” and in that “now,” he holds on to even a fragment of what he’ll feel later. It’s enough to get him to stay.

“It’ll do in a pinch,” Magnifico reassures him, and though his voice is low, practically squeezing out with an effort, he spills into it a gratitude that rings there in the undertow. For someone perceptive—someone like Ernesto—it’d be difficult to miss. “The, uhh… accommodations, not the tequila. For the moment.” Clarification, that which he embellishes with a quirk of a smile that doesn’t yet manage to reach his eyes.

And with that, he sidles around the other, caring a stark little about any brush of contact. “If I’m interrupting something”—he hesitates, peers over his shoulder—“well, don’t let me interrupt something.”

[quietlyblooms-gone]

me? drafting multiple things from my mutuals like i didn't tell everyone to expect low activity through the holidays? yeah, sorry i don't have any self control

[deadtected]

@rocksteadydeadboy asked: " there's nothing bad inside you. nothing. " [ for doom patrol charles unless that's too convulted !?]

it's kinda weird hearing a different version of himself. especially one who knows what went on behind closed doors at home. charles wonders if every version of himself would have such a fucked up life or if there is one that got to at least understand happiness prior to meeting edwin. not that he'd swap it for anything. being mates with edwin is brills. best time of his afterlife. that didn't mean when he cracked his themed weapon of the week over someone's head he doesn't wonder if the apple hasn't fallen that far from the tree. " same goes for you, mate. we both wouldn't have been able to get a bloke like edwin to stick around if we were rotten inside. though, mine's better, obviously. like, the best. "

[seafavoured]

❛ your heart is beating so fast right now. ❜ @pyratezlife / mersilver.

𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 & 𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘, 𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐓. 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐀𝐓. for one so at home in the sea, he felt much the foreign body next to one so wholly at one with her. one whose very essence was crafted from and for the open water. the motions of his arms felt floundering, the steady kicks of his legs like those of a stumbling fawn. he was a difficult man to intimidate, but silver managed it with ease ; not from any sense of fear or the like, but simply with the force of his nature. his very being. if no plain man could match james flint, none could rise to equal him ... this one could.

waves jostled them, jostled him, as silver seemed to press ever closer. laid a palm to flint's bare chest within the deep cut neck of his shirt, worn white linen translucent and BILLOWING in the water. ❛ is it, now? i'm afraid you're mistaken, mister silver. ❜ he wasn't. the moment that touch had settled upon him, unflinching and unyielding, his heart had quickened. stumbled in its rhythm only to strike up in double time.

they were so close. nearly pressed flush, as silver had advanced upon him in the bay. gaze dropped to the other's mouth, transfixed a moment, ere it flit back up to lock with silver's own eyes. the very hue of the shallows, when sunlight danced upon her crests. something arose within him ; seized with the desire to claim that smirking mouth for his own. god, how he hovered on the brink. ❛ wishful thinking, perhaps? ❜ bit of a hypocrite, but that seemed to be captain flint's most natural state.

[geaesaekki]

               @stillresolved sent :

He tries not to let it happen too often, but somehow, always, he ends up doing it once more. Drinking to forget. It creeps up on him, the regret and the bitterness of it all– was there even a point to any of what he did at all– no matter where he goes, but none so often as when he comes back to an empty apartment. Ga-ram hates being at home alone. Isn’t that why it was easier to be K? Judge Kang needed someone available 24/7, someone willing to be errand boy, middle man, and co-conspirator, all in one. Now he’s none of those things and well, there’s only so many things Ga-ram can do before he starts spiraling again.  Which he already has. He’s not sure when Mara decided to come around, not sure if they had plans for such either, but he recognizes her voice. His head spins as he stumbles to the door and then glares at her. “...What happened to asking before coming around?” ( still here with some sads....so here's maram :'3 )

Mara and Garam together, they drink, a lot. It always starts with beers, be it at the bar or at one of their places, with a chat and food, the beers lead to tequila and the tequila lead to watching dumb movies and fucking against a wall. It's fun. She likes those nights with him - however, they don't happen on a daily basis. Being creatures of solitude, they both need their own space, these nights of just being by themselves like a retreat, or at least, that's how it used to be. More and more, Mara finds herself knocking on his door without sending a text first. It's correlated to how her life has been spiraling into chaos these days, she has started to talk to him, to open up, slowly but surely. Garam... it's different, he listens, he listens a lot. Sometimes he doesn't speak yet it's the perfect form of comfort that Mara seeks in him, again, he listens to her like nobody else does. He worries too, by lecturing her and telling her she's going to be arrested yet all she hears is concern and it reassures her not to be completely alone anymore in her mistakes. All the space she starts occupying, it could have been space for him to talk to, but he does not. Perhaps, once or twice, yet it was brief, about the life he lived before about how it's not his life anymore. Mara is aware by whom's side Garam has been working for so many years and yet... he never quite described the hole it left in his life, truly, she has no idea. The door is wide open and the scene is so not expected. Drunk sure he is, but he usually waits for her to start the festivities. His first words are spoken, like a true drunk man - he attacks, which causes a slight frown above her eyes and a sarcastic scoff. Classic Garam though.

"Yeah yeah sorry papi, you don't get to kick me out or you're gonna die alone." Mara speaks walking inside, pushing him with her shoulder, and throwing her leather jacket to the side as it hits a chair and lands on it. "I bought some burgers from accross the street. Oh, and you look like shit." She says, flashing the paper bag that she sets down the first wooden surface she can find. Turning around, she's staring at him. No matter how she wants to keep on getting sassy like she always does, she doesn't like that sight og him in that state so much. Him telling her she should text first... what is it, was is drinking himself to death when she isn't around or something? Mara believes it's either harder or easier to have a conversation with him now. Harder as talking to a drunk can be a complicated task - but perhaps easier as in, maybe, now with all his walls down he would open up to her. Stepping to stand in front of him, one of her hand scoops his jawline, taking a long look at him, pensive. "Say you're freshly coming back from the club. Say you don't always drink alone like that." It's 8pm. She knows the answer already, Garam doesn't party. "Come on, talk to me."