#my bad that I haven’t been posting much

[humanjarvis]

good heart

synopsis: zayne wonders if he’s mean. you reassure him otherwise.

tags: fluff. comfort. zayne is self-conscious and cute  pairing: zayne x reader word count: 641

a/n: surprise (not rly) first zayne fic :] it’ll be interesting seeing how i want to write him since i’m probably the most similar to him irl #neurodivergence. also posting the most depraved and fluffiest things i’ve ever written in the same week who said versatility

“Darling, have I ever been…mean to you?” Zayne asks hesitantly.

You’re cuddled on his sofa with your knees resting against him, halfheartedly watching a nature documentary. Brilliant rays of afternoon sunlight pour in through the floor-length windows, drawing most of your attention away from the grasslands and toward the trio of squirrels leaping over leaves in Zayne’s backyard. At his question, you raise your head from its place on his shoulder, squinting at him playfully. 

“Hmm,” you draw out, as if actually taking the time to consider his question. He blinks at you. “Nope! A little impassive, sometimes, sure,” you grin, poking his adorably neutral face. “But never mean.”

He forces out a weak smile at your teasing, gently lowering his gaze to your intertwined hands. 

When you don’t receive the usual politely packaged retort, you furrow your brows in worry. “Why do you ask? What’s wrong?” 

Still fixated on your interlaced fingers, Zayne clears his throat. “At the hospital today,” he starts, “one of the younger patients said I was…mean.” He bites the word out as if it tastes bad, the mere association of it with his character destabilizing his being. 

Perplexed, you unclasp your hand from his to lift his chin. “What happened?” 

“All I did was tell her that if she wants to feel better, she’ll need to take her medicine daily.” Now it’s your turn to blink at him. “Perhaps it was the tone I used, I’m not sure. I haven’t encountered this before.” 

Deep in thought, he moves to bow his head again, unconsciously avoiding your gaze out of unwarranted guilt. With a frown, you grab his face between your hands before that can happen, climbing over his lap to straddle him. 

“The Zayne I know is worried that doing his job makes him mean?” you ask, peering into his startled hazel eyes. “C’mon, Zaynie, she was probably just being stubborn. You of all people should know what it’s like to avoid taking medicine.” Lifting his top lip as if to inspect his teeth, you drive your point home when he flinches away. As his face flushes pink, you feel his cheeks warm under your hands.

“I’m aware that children…and adults…are hesitant to follow doctor’s orders at times,” he says, clearing his throat. “But I also know I'm not the most…expressive of people. I’ve gotten so used to behaving freely when I’m with you that I wasn’t monitoring my mannerisms in the pediatric ward today. I must have appeared quite intimidating to a vulnerable child. The thought made me uncomfortable. It made me wonder if…I’d ever made you feel that way as well,” he grimaces.

With a fond sigh, you tilt his face up to yours to kiss his nose. This time, his blink is slow and confused. 

“The only one you're being mean to is yourself,” you start, pinching his cheeks lightly. “No matter what’s on your face or in your voice, I know what’s in here,” you say, placing a firm palm over his chest. “You wouldn’t be Dr. Zayne without your directness. You wouldn’t be my Zaynie, either. And I happen to like both versions of him very much.” 

As you press another kiss to his nose, the corners of his full lips quirk up. “I suppose I should be nicer to him, then.”

“You’d better. Or else he’ll have to write ‘I am nice. I am kind. I have a good heart’ over and over again until he understands. Surgeons don’t have time for that.” 

“I'm sure I possess the cardiovascular fitness to work it into my schedule,” he quips. “I have a good heart, after all.”

As the joke lands, you give him an exaggerated wince, removing a hand from his smiling face to fake a retch. “Okay, maybe I was wrong. Subjecting me to that? That was a little mean.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Pent Up 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, virginity loss, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you seek validation through online correspondence with incarcerated men, only for one to lock you down in turn.

Characters: convict/excon!Thor (silverfox)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You can sense the reluctance as Thor drags his finger around the crumbs on his plate. You cannot mirror the sentiment. You are desperate to get away. You wipe your fingers with a napkin and cough. 

“Thanks, uh, again, that was really nice but I should probably go.” You look around evasively. 

“Oh?” He utters flatly. “Should? We could go for a walk? See a movie? I must admit, I didn’t get to see much when I was away. I have much to catch on.” 

You make yourself look at him. Despite his size and strength, even his age, there’s something very puppyish about him. That twinkle in his eye gleams with hopefulness, a stark contrast to your own doom. 

“Well, you know, I gotta get back to the house. My stepdad’s super paranoid and I did say I’d hold down the fort, so... yeah.” 

He nods as his brows arch curiously. 

“They’re off on vacation and he thinks the neighbour’s been dumping grass trimming in the back...” 

“Away? Without you?” Thor wonders. 

You have to keep from visibly cringing. Again, you said too much. Just like online. Just like how you got yourself into this mess. You give a sheepish smile. 

“Well, I have work so... just couldn’t make it work.” 

“But you have the house to yourself?” He asks. 

You stare at him and nod. Shit. 

“If your stepfather worries, would it not be better for you to have some protection? My queen, I must admit, to think of you all alone, it makes me worry,” he taps on the edge of his plate. “All those months in prison, I worried. I could not wait to be out, not only to look upon your beauty in the flesh but to make sure that you are safe.” 

Your breath clogs in your chest. You squirm. Your lies always just compound into a trap. This is why honesty is best yet you know telling him the whole truth won’t help you now. 

“Well, maybe you can walk me home?” You shrug. “Like I said, my stepdad. Super controlling, I don’t think he’d be okay with me having company.” 

He narrows his eyes and sits back, puffing his large chest as he strokes his beard thoughtfully. “Mm, yes, this stepfather of yours, he does sound as controlling as a prison guard. Well, my queen, you needn’t mind the peasants. Your king is here.” 

“Thor, please, it’s fine. I... he’s not that bad and I... I live there so... it’s the least I can do,” you shrug. 

“Not for much longer. You should not live with him if he cannot trust you. If he cannot see you for the treasure you are,” he crosses his arms, his muscles bulging in the flannel. “You deserve a castle of your own.” 

“Right, uh, that’s so sweet but really, I’m tired. I need to go,” you cautiously stand and put your empty mug on the small plate. 

“Yes, my queen, you have blessed me on this happy day, when at last we are together,” he stands and gathers his own dishes before reaching for yours. “Do not trouble yourself. Allow me to serve you as you deserve.” 

You let him take the plate. You watch him go to the counter and leave them there. You hurry for the door. Not quick enough. He’s there to meet you. He opens it in his gentlemanly way and you step out. 

“I have to catch the bus, you know? So you don’t need to come all this way.” 

“The bus? No, my queen, I have a vehicle,” he assures as he catches up to you. You wince as he wraps his arm around you, his hand firmly on your cushy hip.  

You touch his knuckles as you squeak. “Oh.” 

“Forgive me, queen, I cannot help myself,” he growls. “I finally have you near...” he squeezes as he leads you the sidewalk, “and you are softer than I could know.” 

“Please, er,” you look around. “I... not in public.” 

“Yes, my queen,” he recoils, dragging his hand across your back with a huff. “I understand, you would save our love only for us.” 

“Um, sure, yes, exactly,” you agree frantically. 

“This is me,” he points to a big red truck.  

You slow and eye the bright paint. It’s not what you expect. It looks brand new. You eye him warily. He wouldn’t steal on day one? Well, you know his record. He’s done worse. You shiver at the thought. 

He opens the door once more. He helps you up into the lifted truck. You’re dizzy, not just from the height. This whole situation is disorienting. 

You stare through the windshield. Pedestrians trawl by lazily, ignorant to your predicament. If they knew, they’d judge you anyway. Stupid girl. 

You should’ve left it alone. You should have stayed alone. Nope, you just needed to feel special. You needed to let these dirty old criminals tell you the same things they’d say to a forty-year-old. It was never real. Or never should have been. 

“My queen,” he snaps in his seat belt. You glance over at how it stretches over his thick torso. “You must secure yourself.” 

Your eyes flick back and forth. You cough and nod. You click the seat belt in and fight to release the air trapped in your chest. 

“Do you work tomorrow, my love?” He asks as he turns the engine. 

You brace the interior of the door and force the breath through your nose. Your blood is boiling. You can’t think fast enough to lie. Haven't you done enough of that? 

“Nope,” you gulp. 

“Perfect, then I shall plan us a wonderful day,” he proclaims. “And we will be together and happy.” 

“Thor, I... I have chores,” you eke out. That’s not a lie. You told your stepdad you’d take care of the place and you slacked on the vacuuming and laundry. 

“Hm, yes, a very responsible woman. It is how I know you will make a good wife. Well, I could assist--” 

“Wife--” You squeak and curl your fingers around the handle of the door. “Thor.” 

“Yes, well, we will take it one step at a time,” he grins at the road as he steers. Somehow, he seems too small for the gargantuan vehicle. “I’ve not yet kissed you as I’ve longed to. Held you. Worshipped you from head to toe.” A breath rumbles up from his chest and plumes from his nose in a growl. He shifts in the seat. “You cannot know how you’ve saved me, queen. You kept me good. You got me out.” 

You press yourself to your seat and pray for spontaneous combustion. He stops at a light and hums. His large fingers tap the ridges of the wheel. 

“Which way do I go, my queen?” 

You point. Your voice is stuck deep down in your gut. He turns and you blink away the horror. You manage to pluck out a sliver of courage. You use it to guide him to your stepfather’s house. The thought of being away from him is what gets you through. 

He stops at the curb as you declare your arrival. He reaches and grips the seat above your shoulder. You pause as your hand rests on the seat belt. Your heart pounds. Is he going to do something? 

“My queen, I hate to part so soon after waiting so long,” he slips his hand free and strokes your cheek. “But to look upon your beauty, to have you near at all, will soothe me for a time.” 

He cradles your face, his thumb rubbing your cheekbone. His touch alone dwarfs you. Your brain swirls like overcooked soup. You’re going to pass out. 

“I-- thank you, I... that’s-- thanks for the ride but I...” You cautiously look away. 

“Yes, yes, I promised to deliver you unscathed.” He retracts his touch and inhales deeply. 

He undoes his seat belt as he puffs out his reluctance. He gets out and you unbuckle. He opens your door and lifts you out before you can resist. You yelp, once more startled by his easy strength. 

He places you on your feet and you don’t think before you grab him for stability. Your legs are hollow and shaking. The longer he’s around, the more dire, the more real it all is. 

“Allow me to escort you to the door. For safekeeping,” he hooks his arm through yours and guides you up the walk. 

You move on instinct alone. The instinct to get away. You stop at the door and pull away to find your keys. You feel his gaze on you. 

“Before I leave, my queen, a kiss?” He sounds as nervous as you are.  

You look at him, stunned by the vulnerability in his voice. You make a noise and wet the roof of your mouth. Your chest fills with sand. Your lips open and close. 

“Okay?” You utter. 

His cheeks pinken slightly. You stare at him. Why did you say that? 

He smiles and puts his hand on your shoulder as he makes you face him. You quiver as he bends and his other hand comes up under your chin. You squeak as his mouth meets yours. His tongue flicks across your lips but does not delve deeper. 

He parts with a hum. You stare wide-eyed. His tongue glides out to taste his lips. You babble. 

“My queen? Are you unwell?” 

“I never...” you trail off and shake your head. 

You yank your keys free of your bag and face the door. He stays close, “you never kissed a man? Only me?” He wonders. “You saved yourself for me, my queen. I am honoured.” 

You choke and struggle to open the door. Heat encases your body. You push the door inward and it hits the side table just inside. 

“Uh, yeah, er, bye,” you flit through and quickly swing the door shut.  

You lock it and lean into the wood for good measure. You blink and press your back to the door. The smart screen on the side table shows Thor on the doorbell cam. He runs his hand down the door before he goes, his steps heavy. 

You blow out a breath and sink down onto the mat. You sit and stare down the hall as you listen to the engine turn. You stay there until it rumbles off down the street. 

Your daze is broken by the jitter of your phone. You blindly take it out. It’s Andy. Shit. 

You swipe the call away and get up. You leave your shoes by the door and head up to the guest room. You toss your bag on the bed and pace around with your phone. 

Do you call the cops? What did Thor do? You’ve watched those TV shows on stalkers. You’ve seen the horror stories of indifference. Take notes. That’s what they say. What good are notes going to do against a man like that? 

You yipe as your phone shakes again. Andy, leave me alone. You answer, just to get him off your back. 

“Hi,” you answer sharply. 

He sighs. “What did I say about guests?” 

“Huh?” 

“I said none, didn’t I?” He challenges. You blink, confused. 

“What?” You stop and frown at the wall. The door cam. He checks that app incessantly. “No, they just drove me back.” 

“Is that all?” He scoffs. You know he saw it all. You want to throw up. 

“Andy, please, he’s gone--” 

“Bit old for you,” he snorts. 

You shake your head, “I’m an adult.” 

“Could’ve fooled me,” he clucks. “You’re lucky your mom took the kids for a hike. I’m sure she’d be less than impressed to see you doing that.” 

“I...” you shrug. He hates everything you do. 

“I didn’t think you were that kind of girl,” he says. Your stomach knots. What does he mean? “You always were so nice.” 

You sniff, “it won’t happen again.” 

“Hm,” he tisks, “not any of my business. It’s just my house.” 

“I get it. Okay?” 

“Do you? You know exactly what you’re doing with that old man?” He sneers. 

“What do you care?” You blurt out. “You hate me.” 

He tuts again, “I don’t know where you got that from.” 

You wallow in silence. You can’t handle this right now. “Okay, Andy. I’m sorry.” 

“Hm, was that so hard?” He sighs again. “Don’t forget to mop the kitchen.” 

You hold back a heave of your own. How does he always know? You nod as your hand shakes around the phone. Your stepdad is nothing compared to your real problem. 

“Yes, sir.” 

He hums, “don’t be like that.” 

“Okay, Andy, I’ll mop right now.” 

“Good,” he preens victoriously. “And I’ll keep this little secret between us.” 

“Right, er, bye.” 

You hang up before your skin melts off your bones. Something about his tone has your nerves roiling. He always talks down to you. Like you’re stupid. A burden.  

Well, you’re just the baggage your mother brought to the marriage. He’s ready to offload you completely, and it might just happen sooner than he knows. The more you think about it, you almost prefer the criminal to your own stepdad. 

[invalidname19]

~ma coohie PINK, ma booty🕳️ BROWN‼️~

[badstargateimagines]

Y’all ever write fanfic so hard that you end up accidentally finding your passion in computer science at the age of 25 and then randomly apply for college and get in and then end up really enjoying programming and network security more than literally anything you’ve ever studied in your life and you can’t fucking articulate why in god’s name you ended up getting into IT because if you said you ended up getting into IT due to writing a Stargate fan fiction the length of the Book Of Mormon where two IT Rats start an economy based around selling pirated media in another galaxy people would literally think you’re insane? or is that just me?

[damthosefandoms]

childhood crushes cherrycola is the two first graders I worked with last year where the little girl left a note on the little boy’s desk saying “i like you, love (little girl’s name).”

and this year in second grade said little girl started a “question of the day” thing with me during the lull in her reading block and asked me if I had a boyfriend obviously not and she told me she had a boyfriend and i said “you do?” and she got all smiley and said “yeah!” and I said “do I know this person?” and she said “yeah.” and I said “is it (little boy’s name)?” and she was shocked that I knew and I was like “I just guessed :)”

but they’re the ones who always played together at recess and helped each other with work and their neighbor (and that her mom and the little boy’s mom and I were joking about it when they were at school for the class Halloween party). was it ever going to be a different kid

[roseofcards90]

I love having a semi aware phobia of hospitals 🗿

[sweetest-honeybee]

Hoping it’ll go away soon but life’s being taken up by work andddd now doctors appointments :’)

[mylove-thresher]

I am going to shoot myself in the head

[queer-ragnelle]

I know the turn of the year is actually meaningless and I could’ve made a change in my life at any time in the last 12 months but I do genuinely feel better lol

[bleue-flora]

Yo! Just noticed it’s the anniversary of when I finished my second fanfic Dreamcatcher, which is the work I actually started to lean into writing fanfiction (since my first work I really just wrote for myself before being encouraged to share it).

So, in honor of that, here is some of the original second nightmare which was actually written from Dream’s pov before I ended up changing it to Punz’s.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Referenced Torture, Blood, Death, Injuries, Profanity.

Dream is wet and panting, in a puddle of watery red flowing into an equally crimson pond to his side, where the non diluted liquid gets thicker.

There’s white fur stuck in it as the body of a dog, slashed to bits lies there next to him. Both sitting in the despairing silence of the box.

Tears form in the corners of his eyes and his vision gets blurry, but he doesn’t let them fall. He just exhales.

Why does everything die around him? Why does everything he dare to care a smidge about get taken from him?

As if to follow his thoughts, the white turns to black. The fluffy bloodied dog shifts into a cat that’s long since stopped breathing. Dream turns his head, and faintly smirks at the sight of the additional body sprawled out on the floor next to him.

He mutters to the corpse under his breath, rolling his eyes, “To be fair, you were being a bitch. Like don’t blame me, you know you d—deserved it… I mean I lasted like—how long before beating your head in? That’s pretty impressive—pretty fucking impressive, you know.”

Tommy’s body doesn’t respond, just stays there, unmoving and uncharacteristically quiet. His face swollen and bruised, not unlike the innocent cat he beat to death.

Then his body evaporates and Dream finds himself in a new room, accented with black walls and bedrock. It’s detail is perfectly ominous like he wanted.

He’s kneeling, unguarded by armor with an audience of people surrounding him. His heart beats rapidly threatening to burst out of his chest at the danger. But he ignores it.

Indignant, Tommy rips off the mask that always covers his face. Exposing his pale skin to the cool air and the venomously judging faces.

Despite the frustration at his denial of privacy, he doesn’t so much as dignify it with a flinch. It was expected. He was ready. He’s not about to show weakness in front of a crowd.

They are silent as the axe lands, and lands again before lady death finally embraces him.

They are silent as the sword finds its place in his chest and he falls to the ground, bleeding out into the cold stone beneath him.

It’s ok. He knew this would happen. It was expected, it was planned. He didn’t know they’d kill him twice, but it’s fine.

On one life, he makes his way back down with sharp pain running through his veins. Somehow it seems duller than the pain in the prison cell, though it can’t have been less excruciating.

Tommy once again stands above him savagely firing arrows away. As they pierce his flesh and bone, he searches the cold faces around him and listens intently, hoping to hear one sound of objection to his approaching final death.

Surely, someone will say something, right? Surely, someone will oppose his final death, right? Surely, they woundn’t let Tommy kill him off in cold blood. Would they?

But there’s nothing from them. Absolutely nothing. Standing there, dripping in blood, he feels his heart entirely disintegrate into nothing. Leaving only a hollow emptiness in its wake.

Then suddenly he’s freezing from more than just death and despondency. He’s surrounded by ice. Their pillars, tall and sharp, casting the land in a pointed terrain. Despite the bone chilling air and his frozen insides, he stands, planted to the ground, looking at a sign pinned to the glacier. The wood marking the death of his parrot that travelled so far only to die there.

A deep sigh is released from his lungs and the scene smears into broad strokes of colors. Until a well known bleak room encases him in lava and obsidian again.

Sitting there with nothing but the annoying sounds of the prison to keep him company, he wonders if he’s always destined to lose everything. Was it always going to end up like this? Was he always going to end up alone?

[carlottastudios]

YES FELLOW KAEYA ENJOYER 🙌🙌🙌🙌 I woukd LOVE to hear your thoughts its so hard to find anyone talking about all of kaeyas lore and implications

HI FELLOW KAEYA ENJOYER!!!!

Thank you so much! I have actually started the process of writing down my thoughts and even realized that, because of how much all of Kaeya’s lore and implications and references connect together, a mind map might actually be a better format for listen all of my thoughts than just a text post. But then, ah…I started the VERY rough draft for this mind map and I’m realizing it’s already getting so huge and complicated, I’m actually worried about whether or not I’ll be able to make it cohesive and readable.

I think that might be why it’s so hard to find anyone talking about ALL of Kaeya’s lore & myth connections & implications. THERE’S JUST SO MUCH!!! Kaeya, you have so much going on!!!! And, like, good for you, beloved, but it’s not easy for the theorists!

Anyways, in case anyone is curious, here’s a look at what I’ve got so far for the super-rough draft of a mind map for all my unhinged Kaeya lore thoughts:

Thank you for the nice message, anon!

[alangdorf]

Sorryyyy for dropping off the face of the earth; got kinda shy after that last post but mostly I’ve just been writing though I cannot guarantee that any of that will ever be finished (also I’m very insecure about my writing AAAH). Figure I might as well post the valentines I had done (like two months late lol); interestingly this turned into more of a hand lettering exercise than I was expecting lol

[lemonynuggets]

I might take a little social media break soon, I need to focus on some big events coming up on my life and I feel like it’d just be good for my health in general

I’ll still be on discord a lot tho (I love talking to my friends yayy) so if you wanna talk to me for any reason you can find me there!! Waos!!!!

So uhh bye in around a week I guess!!

[chuuyadelune]

now that i have recovered from the emotional shock of seeing *that* akutagawa scene from chapter 88 animated in HD 4K (i thought i’d have another week to emotionally prepare myself LMAO), i just wanna be a little bit of a nerd and say that i really liked the cinematography/composition this episode.

in particular, i really enjoyed the anime’s decision to draw visual parallels between this fight and previous fights (in particular, the fight against francis, which is important because it is the first time they worked together).

after all, this fight is the culmination of everything they’ve done together. from the combining of their abilities, coming to an understanding with each other, realising the potential of beast-beneath the moonlight-rashoumon… bringing back similar shots that were used in previous fights is SUPER effective at highlighting the parallels and how far they’ve come, in my humble opinion.

here are a few things i noticed:

- first of all, both of them activating their abilities one after another is an explicit nod to S2’s fight;

- the confrontation/conversation in the hallway from S2 (to an extent! they’re on the same sides, which caught my eye);

- akutagawa blowing up the engine room on the ship, and kyouka doing the same during the first fight between him and atsushi (S1);

- and a similar angle being used for black tiger claws / koukko zessou as a nod to the fight in the S3 finale.

the parallels — though maybe less explicit, *are* still there in the manga? like, the entire “structure” of the fight so to speak is very similar to the francis fight in S2 — akutagawa finding atsushi, taking place on a(n air)ship, breaking away from the fight to strategise before confronting the final boss (then, francis, and now, fukuchi) is undeniably a nod to that fight? i love that this is given its due in the anime as well.

another thing about the cinematography this episode i loved was them using the clock as being the indicator of fukuchi’s fuckass space-time sword doing its thing. that was a really nice touch, in my opinion; the cuts in between were jarring and disorienting and really helped put us into sskk’s shoes.

and as for the background design alongside the clock itself — there were a couple of things about them i enjoyed:

- the number of floors / levels of the ship in the back (5, as a nod to the five ways an angel decays, the DOA)

- the blue of the clock is meant to be reminiscent of fukuchi’s sword, i’d argue, with the way both of them pops out of the sunset/orangey-red lighting

- the clock’s design being super ornate and gold plated reminds me a *bit* of a tabernacle (where they keep unused eucharist in a church) — and thus brings up connotations of sacrifice. that white bridge-thing beneath the clock as well reminds me a lot of an altar, too (see the image above the last to see what exactly i’m referring to, because image limit)

okay, yeah, that one might be a bit of a stretch, sure. but its placement as being above them, combined with the two tables/boxes to the left and right of the ship’s bow (which looks very much like a cross, btw) gives it a distinctly religious, altar-kinda feel, i’d argue. and crosses have been used in S4 as symbolism as well!

(tbh, there could even be a bit more imagery i’m missing, because — the angels of the DOA refers specifically to the buddhist conception of an angel. i’m not too familiar with buddhist imagery, but i thought that this was worth pointing out regardless!)

the last thing i want to say is that the red and blue symbolism went CRAZY this episode. i don’t have much else to say because it was super obvious — they even reused the same “black tiger claws” shot from S3, after all — but i do wanna point out that the symbolism even went into the carpets. the fucking carpets.

like, the shift: it’s red when akutagawa’s leading the conversation but changes to blue after atsushi’s suggesting of the submersible as a strategy? i mean, i don’t know if this (or anything i’ve said, to be fair) was intentional or not, but it’s a cool detail anyway!

personally, i enjoyed this episode, the action was great, and all of this too was a really neat addition as well! and now… uh. we wait for the chaos to get worse i suppose !? (laughs nervously)

[vixxdaemon]

Oh.

[laurzvahll]

idk why I’m always making characters and intricate stories just to put said characters in a million different AUs and focus on those instead LMFAOO