#anyways i'm blabbering

[meziniart]

my bf has informed me that Snake wears a corset so i made him this

[ladyrijus]

one of these days someone needs to make a desi centric oc picrew especially one that is fantasy related

[nekrosmos]

Nikolai and Price going to an evening game of poker with some of Nik's "friends", John sitting with his guard up as he's surrounded by a group of dangerous international criminals, all of them carrying guns, all of them glancing at him with a curious look. Price is uncomfortable but doesn't show it, while Nikolai is awfully relaxed considering the situation.

The evening goes on, drinks, cigars and hearty laughs are shared around the table, the bets reaching numbers Price doesn't even make in half a year. It would be a problem, if he wasn't winning most of the rounds, piles of cash gathering around him as he feels the tension build in the room. One of the younger guys, another russian speaker, starts getting an attitude about it around two hours in, and Nikolai immediately puts him in his place with a single sentence Price doesn't understand, his voice booming, as intimidating as he could be, a heavy silence falling inside the room as the lad with an attitude sits back down, eyes not even daring to look at Nik. The silence is only broken by Nik again, a warm laugh leaving his lips and the other men joining him, their nervousness barely hidden.

It had been so easy for Nik to command the room, and even after the tension had diminished, Price could see how much respect these men had for him, while also clearly being scared shitless of the man. Price had rarely felt more attracted to him as he did at that moment, and the wink and smirk Nikolai gave him when he noticed him looking in his direction absolutely did not help.

John eventually left the table, excusing himself for a moment but squeezing Nik's hand briefly as he got up, moving deeper in the building they were using for their game.

A minute later and it's Nik's turn to excuse himself, quickly finding Price who immediately grabs him by the collar of his open shirt and presses his lips against his, Nik hungrily returning the kiss and pushing John against a nearby wall.

When they return to the table, hair tousled, face flustered, all it takes is one glance from Nikolai to shut the others up. This is his territory, this is where he's comfortable, surrounded by dangerous men who show him respect and never dare to cross him.

It's easy for John to forget how natural this all is for his partner, and if Nikolai brought him here tonight to assert his dominance and show off a little, just so he could impress John, well, that mission sure was a success.

[meirimerens]

chat gpt and artificial "intelligence" mind-numbing tools of neoliberal conscience-vampiric origin (etc) have crept into my university and a friend was telling me he saw on a uni groupchat someone going "wow i got [really good grade] that's crazy i know i cheated but i didn't expect this good of a grade" motherfucker so you don't even use this water-hogging spirit-death tool to succeed you use this water-hogging spirit-death tool because you don't want to use your brain, like, at all? you don't even use this water-hogging spirit-death tool for results because you're not actually expecting results you're using it because you want an easy way out of the stressers of exams and to not have to learn? you are lower than a dog and dumber than its shit too.

[mikayuumouse]

Atsushi asked "why did you save me?"

Akutagawa wondered "why did you protect me?"

And that's just...sad

It's sad that they're so doubtful of the other's feelings. Atsushi doesn't feel like he deserves to be loved, and although he's connected to Akutagawa and they have a trust that runs deeper than words, I think he's scared that Akutagawa doesn't care for him, and he doubts and doubts and doubts

We don't know the full canon reason on why Akutagawa saved Atsushi, but we know it's because he *cares*, but Atsushi doesn't know that yet

I don't think that Atsushi doubts Akutagawa's strength or abilities, or his capacity to care for others. I think Atsushi doubts how lovable he himself is, he thinks he's not worth loving, not worth anything

And it's similar with Akutagawa, he probably thinks whatever he feels towards Atsushi is one-sided, and maybe he even fears that Atsushi hates him (although he obviously doesn't 😔)

They've been abused and traumatized emotionally so much that I think it's hard for them to realize how much they care for and about each other

I'm sure there will eventually be a chapter or two where Atsushi and Akutagawa can finally talk, and I can't wait for that because it'll really show their combined perspective on who are they are together

God they're so in love

Asagiri why do you do this to me

[solarisfortuneia]

— 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬.

and the smell of camphor dancing in the wind.

✦ info: he didn't know he'd lose you so soon. (come back, please. even if it is just for five more minutes.)

✦ featuring: alhaitham.

✦ warnings: angst, character death (reader), heartache, 1.2k words, somewhat proof-read.

✦ notes: i cried so goddamn hard writing this. why is my first work after hiatus pain. why did i pick up the angst wip. but!! i'm writing again, so that's good. (more notes at the end.)

he didn’t know that it was your last day together. 

he didn’t know that the smile you gave him that afternoon, your eyes sparkling like sunlight upon the serene waves of the ocean, would be the last he’d ever see. that the playful light in your gaze would fade so very soon, slipping through his fingers like sand.

he didn’t know that last night would be the last time he held you close while you drifted off to sleep. he didn’t know that today would be the last time he’d wake up with you.

he didn’t think he’d lose you like this. 

he didn’t think he wouldn’t be able to save you from that blow. 

“please, please,”  he begs, both to you and to whatever force that is just barely holding you together. “just stay with me for five more minutes, please. until i can get you somewhere.” 

the rain soaks him to the bone, clothes and hair sticking to his skin. your lips stay motionless, eyes shut.

“wake up, please,”  he bargains. “you can have all the five minutes of extra sleep you want later, i promise. just—”  his vision blurs, and something shines on the ground before it is gone, swallowed by damp earth, lost amidst drops of falling rain. 

desperately, he tears off parts of his traveling cloak to staunch the bleeding. deep inside, he knows it is futile. he knows your wound is too great. he knows what lies ahead. but he cannot help but press the cloths to your wound and pray. 

please, please tell me it’ll be okay. 

please stay with me, beloved. i’ll read you all the books in the world. i’ll sleep in with you everyday, even if we end up whiling away our time. 

please. stay. stay with me. i can’t lose you yet.  

“— just wake up, beloved.” 

by some miracle, your eye flutters. just a bit. just enough to set hope ablaze, just enough for the grip on his heart to loosen a tiny bit. he buries his face in your shoulder, resting his head against your neck, uncaring of the blood that stains his clothes. your blood. on his clothes. his hands. everywhere. 

no. no. this can’t be happening.

he feels you strain beneath him, your unwounded arm gently, weakly brushing his back. he jolts upright, eyes trained on your face. you send a frail smile his way. he clasps your face softly as you nuzzle into his palm.

“alhaitham—” 

his full name. archons, how long has it been since you called him that?  

“— take good care of yourself, okay?” you tell him, chest heaving, your fingertips touching a tear on his cheeks. “i love you. so much.” 

those are the last words he hears fall from your lips. he presses a kiss to your forehead, to your eyelids, and to your cheeks and to your lips, over and over and over until he feels your breath slow, hoping they’ll say what he knows he cannot manage to choke out.

i love you. 

he stays there next to you for who knows how long, holding you until the rain slows and a faint rainbow smiles in the sky.

until he can’t smell camphor anymore.

—

every person has their curiosities. 

they’re just the little traits that set them apart from others, the things that make them tick just a little bit differently, the things that make them, them.

for instance, someone may be obsessed with collecting tiny furniture, while another eats the crusts off their sandwich before actually consuming it. someone may have an affinity for the most niche aspects of linguistics, while another can accurately predict the next raindrop that slides down a window pane.

after all, no two people are exactly alike, are they?

alhaitham knows he’s got his fair share of these curiosities himself. his aversion to soup and all things that resemble it, to name one. and with you, he’d noticed two things. 

number one: the scent of camphor that seems to linger on every inch of your person. 

he’d caught whiff of it almost immediately the first time you met. you were but one of his juniors in the akademiya, filled with bright-eyed curiosity and anxiety to match. you had tripped over a stair and bumped into his table in the library, bringing the mountain of books in your arms crashing down.

and with subsequent coincidental meetings, he learnt that the subtle scent of camphor dancing in the air meant you weren’t far away. 

you were, unfortunately, one of the poor souls who seemed to be cursed with constantly recurring minor illnesses, and almost always walked about with a stuffy nose. and so, you always carried a small disc of camphor in a handkerchief, as well as in your pocket.

you swore up and down, left, right and center that sniffing the vapors helped make breathing easier.

‘it’s my grandmother’s remedy, alhaitham! camphor always works wonders. well, that and eucalyptus oil.”

alhaitham may not know the validity of your claim or the legitimacy of the cure, but he knew to never, ever question a grandmother’s remedy. that, and he’d much rather refrain from starting a back-and-forth about something so small.

and number two: your neverending pleas of different variations of ‘just five more minutes!’ 

“five more minutes, ‘haitham. please.” you’d whine grumpily when he woke you up to start your day. “let me sleep in for five more minutes.” 

“five more minutes, habibi,” you’d ask when he put down the story you’d requested he read out to you before bedtime. “read me the part where she finds the music box?”

“five more minutes, baby,” is what you’d tell him when he asks how much longer you’d take getting ready. “you can’t rush perfection!”

those five more minutes were never five minutes long. 

but he’d always, always indulged you and those pleading eyes of yours. as stoic as he appeared to be, you lived in his heart. of course he could never deny you anything under the sun.

—

alhaitham remembers that silly little song you sang over and over, the one you’d learnt from a kid in the bazaar. he’d taken you to see one of nilou’s performances, and, friendly soul that you were, you’d struck up a conversation with some of the eager audience members before the play. 

“oh, how i wish i was a bird flying free,

i’d see the world, every mountain and every sea!

oh, how i wish i was a cloud in the sky,

wouldn’t you like to wave to me as i pass by?”

you’d hum that rhyme on every idle afternoon.

loss is inevitable. he knows that, with how logical and rational and straightforward he is. he’d lost his parents, but he was far too young to remember. he’d lost his grandmother, but she passed in her sleep of old age, serene and wise.

but you? he didn’t think you’d leave him this soon. a singular wish sits in his soul, making its home in his bones. 

a wish that you’d come back, somehow. 

he wishes you gave him five more minutes, just as he always did.  but he knows that you could’ve given him five more hours, five more days, five more years and five more decades and it would still not be enough time spent with you. 

a blue feathered bird comes to perch on his shoulder, interrupting his musings just as he raises his face to the sky. he sees the heart shaped cloud that floats idly above sumeru city.

 he thinks of the rhyme again, and something in him tells him to wave. and so he does. a scent so familiar lingers, faintly brushing his nose in the wind that picks up.

“alhaitham, it's time to go.”  kaveh calls his name softly.

 alhaitham doesn't move. “five more minutes,”  he says, echoing your favorite phrase. “i smell camphor in the breeze.” 

✦ extra notes: my alhaitham characterization for this fic stems from how i believe that when alhaitham is attached, he's attached. so i focused more on that, and less of all that rationality and whatnot. this one loves deeply, yk?

that camphor thing is a real grandma remedy in our household (my mom would tie some in a hanky and put some under my pillow and still to this day reminds me to do it when i'm sick) which is what originally sparked the idea for this

when i'd initially started this wip, i didn't expect it go this way. usually i write with my brain, but i think i wrote this one with my fingers working faster than i can think hsjhsj so sorry if it's kinda out of place lmao but yk what? i'm happy with it still even though i feel like it doesn't have my usual quality.

thanks for reading.

[the-zephyr-zone]

I finally got the urge to draw again after 36 days... woof. Drew for 5 hours and these were the results. There's doodles, studies, and figure drawing, although it's like 99% figure drawing lol

Close ups and extras under the cut!

[emuzeek]

I finished Sunrise on the Reaping, and it's got me thinking about the original HG movie adaptations... and I genuinely wonder how they screwed up so much of the symbolism and characterization and casting, and the marketing was a sickening but also hilarious mess because... thanks for proving Collins' point I guess?? But then this made me think, "What if Collins deliberately stepped back in the movie-making process because she knew that the Machine would be the Machine and prove her own point?" Like, the irony of entertainment being made about a bunch of kids killing each other in a dystopian world and the focus of the marketing is on how exciting it is and who will "win" in the love triangle is a poignant memory for me of the original movies, but what if Collins let it happen on purpose?

Maybe I'm just honking at nothing and it was simply out of her hands or she didn't care but, maybe. Just maybe.

[multidusk]

wait a minute.

so they DID sneak dark sector into 1999

[tubbytarchia]

Thinking about how happy joel was for jimmy making it to the finale only for one of his allies to kill him before he reaches top 10. This ones got a little kick!

"This one's got a little kick!" you say as I roll on the ground throwing a tantrum smearing the floor in tears before I spontaneously combust

[tenna-cious]

it's been a while since i've participated in fandoms & I can't help but have some of my anxieties resurface again lol

[callmegaith]

Down the Rabbit Hole pt.4

LOOP CONCLUDED

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

comic/David playlist

thank u everyone so much for joining me and David on this small trip. Hopefully there will be more to come in the future :D

And again, thank u for encouraging me and supporting me to create something so special about a character that I love so deeply 🥰

[meirimerens]

ipl's caption on the tweet showcasing the concept fits for p3 eva got me vindicated i'm giggling i didn't even need this i can extrapolate from text & metatext but gigglinggg PEOPLE WHO RECIPROCALLY DON'T LOVE EACH OTHER AS PEOPLE AND INSTEAD AS CONCEPTS OF WHAT THEY BELIEVE THE OTHER ACTS AS A MIRROR OF ���� A MUSE AS SELF-REFERENCE AND DEHUMANIZATION 💯🔥 IDEALIZATION (in the most literal sense of the word: seeing the other not as a person but as an idea(l) [or the prolongation of an idea(l)]) AS THE BASIS OF A RELATIONSHIP FUNDAMENTALLY BASED IN FANTASY AND PROJECTED INTERPRETATION(S) 💯🔥😈

[teddybeartoji]

tomorrow is gonna be such a weird day i am not looking forward to it at all

[lookwhatyoudidithasanxiety]

//Mind the tags on this chapter!! Severe entomophobia/fear of bugs. This is a filler chapter while I keep working on the next one to try and catch up the story with the blog. This chapter just didn't work as part of a longer one, it needed to be by itself.

Also, I'm sorry once again for the hiatuses. When I think things are slowing down, life just keeps throwing stuff at me. But it's working out! I'm just really busy.

Once again, mind the tags and enjoy! This chapter is actually about something that hasn't happened on the blog or really been discussed much yet.//

[sirenvrse]

Don't think about bugs always having a mandatory love interest and how that affects daffy. Don't think about it. Don't think about how one second daffy is spending the night bantering and joking with bugs, eating the dinner he knows is made for him and him only. Reveling in the fact that bugs was expecting, anticipating, if not, then maybe even hoping that daffy will show up and bugs *prepared* a dinner for him. And then the other second having to look at every single piece of merchandise and media pushing this picture perfect relationship of Bugs and Lola. Don't think about how Daffy had to sit through each and every love interest that bugs had. Whether that's honey bunny or Penelope or currently, Lola. How he watched as bugs allegedly, "fell in love" with them, as far as the audience knows. And don't think about how, maybe somewhere in the haze, he started to doubt bugs himself. What if he *did* fall in love and everything daffy sees is just a delusion? What if all they've been through is just that. A circumstance. What if the mandatory love interest is more? More than they ever were?

At the end of the day, it doesn't matter. Daffy isn't ever going to be some one who bugs is in love with. And that has nothing to do with bugs' feelings, no, it's just how the universe works. They weren't meant to be, not in the official sense.