#what awaits
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♡ ⸝⸝ 🍙 𖦹
♡ ⸝⸝ 🎱 𖦹
#: ̗̀➛ ayatxt#what awaits#kpop moodboard#minji moodboard#black moodboard#grunge moodboard#messy moodboard#kpop icons#kpop layouts#lyrics#music#random moodboard#rock moodboard#minji icons#minji layouts#newjeans#newjeans icons#newjeans moodboard#newjeans layouts#minji#metal moodboard#rockstar girlfriend#rock guitar#dark moodboard#gg moodboard#gg icons#gg layouts#minji packs#newjeans packs#kpop
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actively afraid of listening to the new hozier
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pov: your partner has been arguing with The Voices for the last 15 minutes
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A Vision
That scene in s9 is probably one of my favorite Jay moments because of how well it shows why Wu chose him and what his role is in the team. Being the out-of-the-box thinker, the dreamer. Especially because of how it sets him apart from the rest, like Zane, Cole or Kai, whose purposes are to protect others while Jay inspires people (s6 and s12)
#ninjago#jay ninjago#ninjago jay#jay walker#ninjago dragons rising#ninjago fanart#ninjago wu#wu ninjago#dad jay au#← it's that scene from chapter 18#the moment when jay had to be on the verge of death to have a vision with wu#also yes this flashback is the one that is repeated the most in the AU#aa drawing young jay makes me sad. he has no idea what awaits him#i don't know if i've mentioned it before but in my hc he's 16 when wu recruits him#so he's the same age as Kaida here bc parallels
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Heh...Literally nothing personal, kid.
[First] Prev <–-> Next
#poorly drawn mdzs#mdzs#wei wuxian#sect leader yao#This episode has a lot of scenes I know people are excited for and starting here seems odd but here me out:#The sheer hilarity of this opening scene was too good to not give a highlight to.#Dare I say it? I think this is THE most underrated scene in the whole series.#You have one guy flashing WWX his prosthetic leg. Another complains about his dead parents.#And the third guy? He has no personal grievances at all. He's just here to be included.#You cannot get better comedic timing than that. Sect leader Yao you will always be famous to me.#There is also something to be said about how this scene is about shifting blame and holding a false trial.#And we also have the main theme about rumours vs truth in how Sect leader Yao is only here based on what he's been told to beleive.#And WWX is so exhausted by the blame! He was one breath away from saying 'form a queue and I'll take your complaints one by one'#WWX (overall) didn't do those things directly but he's the one the responsibility falls on.#Despite the fact that the first siege was *not* incited by him. It's like hitting someone and getting mad your fist got hurt.#What a brilliantly frustrating scene!#Anyways next up are the long awaited pheonix mountain flashabck scenes. We finally made it.#and AHH Season 3!!! The last stretch! Thank you all for rooting me on up until this point!
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I had an idea for a one-off Rise episode plot and just wanted to quickly sketch up some visuals for it.
The plot goes as follows: Donnie attempts to invent a cloning machine and, due to some kind of science-y mishap, ends up cloning himself...a lot. But there's a catch to this - the clones aren't exact copies of Donnie, they each possess just ONE of the various facets of his personality (i.e. brainy, broody, sarcastic, passionate, dramatic, mischievous, etc.) and a small portion of his mystic powers. Don tries his darnedest to keep the whole situation under wraps while he searches for a way to fix it, but some of the more rambunctious Donnies quickly escape and begin stirring up trouble in the Lair, so it doesn't stay a secret for very long. To make matters worse - the real Donnie starts to slowly disappear (something having to do with his existence being divided among the Donnies or blahblahblah fake science explanation). So, while he and the scientist Donnies continue to look for a way to reverse the cloning effect, his brothers and Co. set to work gathering up all the other Donnies so they can put them back where they belong and keep Donnie Prime™ from vanishing.
Hilarity, wholesomeness (and some mild angst) ensues.
(Note: I meant to include April in that second-to-last image, but ran out of room. Just know that she, Splinter, and probably Casey Jr. are all there, as well.)
#I always love plots that have a healthy mix of whimsy and emotional weight. Bonus for DT bonding.#rottmnt#rise of the tmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#disaster twins#rottmnt donnie#rise donnie#donatello hamato#rottmnt leo#rise leo#leonardo hamato#technically all the boys are in there but I'll just tag the ones with the most focus...esp since mikey's tiny lol#fanart#concept art#chiscribbs#Fun game idea for the tag-readers: what name would you give this ep if it were real? I'm eagerly awaiting suggestions.#shades of purple (rottmnt)#<- added in post for ease of access
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The thing is, Alice and Lilia haven’t made it to the end of the Road, and it STILL gave them what they were missing. Alice got the truth of her mom’s protection. Lilia got her coven.
#‘the road promises that what’s missing awaits you at its end’#haven’t stopped thinking about that line in five weeks and it just keeps getting more interesting#agatha all along#agatha all along spoilers#gettin’ meta#writing#alice wu gulliver#lilia calderu
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It lowkey kills me that he has his big ass chair in the chibi version as well
#love and deepspace#love and deepspace sylus#lads — meow's time!#lads — long-awaited revelry#oh god i just noticed the chibi version also crosses his leg#what a smug little kitty#let me smother you with my love kitty sylus#🥹
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Sleep deprivation is one hell of a drug
#“woah scary you hit your head... willy? heaven? terry jr? what are you talking about? we're going on magic pony adventures!”#that is terrys sweater btw#haters: “you cant give a horse black nail polish” me: *freddie wong voice* “Heh.”#normals tail is like that cause he got that dawg in him (alicorn blood)#the long awaited cursed mlp au#dungeons and daddies#dndads#dndads s2#scary marlowe#normal oak#normal swallows oak garcia#Taylor swift#lincoln li wilson#mlp#my little pony#ponysona#mlp au#im so sorry if these suck ive never drawn horses before#dndads teens#dndads mlp#my art
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I am still so passionately and genuinly baffled and annoyed by the Minecraft Movie.
Yes I have played Minecraft since 2011 and love the game and what I can see from the trailers it looks like an adaptation that I cannot see myself enjoying
But above that. It is infuriating to see yet again a movie that clearly displays the movie industry's worst practices regarding animation.
A Minecraft Movie is an animated movie. It is not Live Action just because it features human actors and it is stylized to accomplish a hyperrealistic look. To achieve its visual identity it is solely dependent on computer-generated images. A team of humans has to use their technical knowledge in design and animation to create this world while using digital tools. This movie is dependent on artist. This movie depends on animation to exist.
Perhaps not the same set of abilities and requirements needed to produce a 2d animated movie or a 3d animated movie or a stop motion animated movie. Each technique is vastly different. But it still demands a team of animators and a team of VFX artists.
Animators and artists that are being exploited by big studios. Studios that refuse to allocate money to other departments because is cheaper to underpay this artist that have to work in bad conditions and are being rushed to finish a movie to jump to the next one.
It is cheaper for studios to decide that all animated movies should be Hyperrealistic CGI because you can exploit these houses to make “Live-action” movies and also go and use their services for every other blockbuster movie. Like that, there is no need to deal with the pesky 2d animators demanding fair pay and their union. That way there is no need to pay those animators looking to make mixed-technique animated movies. Why would studios waste their money paying studios worth of artists with different focuses and technical abilities if they can strip it all down to all be Hyperrealistic CGI done by the three same underpaid and overworked CGI and VFX studios? They make money do they not? Why stop? It is simply good business for Hollywood to stamp out variety and risk from the products they create. It is cheaper to destroy the livelihood of thousands to focus on exploiting a few that can "make the work of all the other thousand people they fired" I am salty yes. A Minecraft Movie does not appeal to me visually, doubt it will have a story that interests me, it doesn't follow Minecraft lore, and as a fan of the game, I just think there were many other ways to do it better. But above all, it angers me because it is the latest installment that showcases how devoided of care and respect the industry is for the artists it needs to survive.
#a minecraft movie#minecraft#maybe seeing the exploitation awaiting fellow animators and writers in industry has made this all more personal and serious than it has to#but hey thats what tumblr blogs are to go “i do not like this thing *exposists*”
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LOVE his kansai dialect so much huge shoutout to his seiyuu (kengo kawanishi) here’s 34 seconds of it from the new episode
(also whilst confirming that i wasn’t saying the wrong shit i found a thread on how his dialect gets translated in the manga from an official translator!)
#if u told me one week ago when i was rereading kn8 that id be giving this much fucks about hoshina AND a pairing from it i’d be laughing at#u. however the only person i can laugh at rn is myself#hoshina#soshiro hoshina#sorry guys. I’m truly so sorry#kaiju no.8#just block me 🫡#also other vid got flagged can we not enjoy nice things and my hoshimina agenda?#egg boils#ITS SO CITE HOW WHEN HES COMPLAINING HE GOES FULL ON ACCENT#What the hell i just took a peak at his wiki n he voices aventurine too.. like no wonder.#man#i like hoshina this is messed up..#give me more mina moments pleaseeeeeee <- excitedly awaits episode 11 i think#fave
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More Sanae x Tsukasa sketches.
#Touhou#Sanae Kochiya#Tsukasa Kudamaki#Momoyo Himemushi#Sanae x Tsukasa#o...#oil fire...#the possibly awaited sequel#DAMN my previous post about these two was in August 2023 what the heck#illusory bread art tag
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#honest question and please feel free to send answers and suggestions but is it possible to literally die of hyperfixation#i just need to know what awaits me#am I going to die#thanatos hades#thanzag#hades game
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..........................huh.......................
#life hack: and if you mentally classify funerals as death parties then the scope of what you can party for (and with) broadens considerably#i once showed up to a friend's dinner party (we were having ribs) with a cake that said SORRY I ATE ALL THE RIBS.#the world of preemptive apology cakes awaits you and it is GREAT#comics#webcomics#dinosaur comics#qwantz
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Roleplay, Undercurrents, and Rising Curtain: Sylus's POV
It really bothers me in the game that the clearly traumatic experiences MC undergoes in the canon storyline don't seem to have any consequences for MC's character development. Yes, yes, this is a self-insert gacha mobile game, blah blah. MC has PTSD from chapter 4 (you know the one), and no one can convince me otherwise, so I re-wrote the auction bits from Sylus's POV to fix this grievous oversight, because I am also firmly convinced he is a champ at handling MC's issues.
Third person POV (Sylus), second person POV (gender-neutral reader/MC) CWs: violence, murder, foul language, cursing, mentions of trauma/PTSD/panic attacks, Sylus is giddy being able to be near MC again even though MC is still mean to him
SFW if you think murder and Sylus's singing is SFW
ao3 link here
He is watching you from the shadowed doorway as you examine yourself in the mirror. He can almost see your mind tick, tick, ticking away, evaluating the quality of your costume for tonight, the slight frown on your face betraying your uncertainty that you, and he, will be able to pull tonight off and emerge on the other side in one piece.
He is used to this type of soirée, a viper’s den wrapped in velvet and silk, the veneer of civility paper-thin, where one wrong look or clumsy response can cost you your reputation, or much, much more. And as a betting man, he’d gamble that you, on the other hand, are not used to this type of gathering at all. You who are straightforward, with your fangs bared and guns blazing, the honesty palpable in your bright eyes and laughter, in your scowl and impatience and eagerness.
He steps into the light, revealing his presence to you through the mirror, and watches as you turn to him, draped in scarlet, and a pulse of satisfaction has his lips lifting. You look delicious, with your head tilted haughtily, the red jewels flashing from your neck and wrists. Your outfits match, and you’re dripping in stones and fabric the color of his eyes. He hasn’t felt this sense of satiation in a long, long time. He pins the brooch above your heart and looks into your eyes, and it doesn’t matter that even though you know the truth now, you are still looking at him with the cold unfamiliarity of someone constantly assessing the possible threat in every gesture he makes. It doesn’t matter that even though he’s helping you, you’re still treating him like the enemy, when it is everyone outside these walls who threaten you, and he is currently the only one defending the gates and preparing to shatter the siege.
None of that matters. Because you’re right here, finally. You’re allowing him to touch you, as he smooths the fabric around where he has just pinned the brooch, your heartbeat strong and steady under his palm—you’re reaching out to him, sliding your hand in his; he can’t feel your skin through your gloves but he can feel your heat at his side, in his palm. He will ensure that, with time, the look in your eyes changes when you feel him appear behind you, when your palms touch.
You say something biting to him, full of doubt, the wariness and spite palpable, and he revels in how safe you must feel with him already to extend your claws around him like this, to be reckless and treat him like an insufferable puppy that you’re forced to indulge instead of the half-feral wolf that he is to so many others. The progress from hate and fear from just a few days ago, to this snarky impatience is intoxicating, better than any gin fizz or successful wager—it’s faster than he had calculated as the blood poured from his heart and you spitefully jammed your palms into his chest in an attempt to stem the flow.
In short, Sylus is in a great mood tonight and he’s looking forward to exterminating the rest of the vermin that have been gnawing away at the foundations of his house in his long absence. And he’s going to make damn well sure that he gets to dance with you before the fireworks truly begin.
Things are going according to plan—he snickers, recalling that this plan is the one you accused him of not having. He will show you, in time, that he always has plans, with backup plans, and backups to the backup plans. He can forgive you for not knowing that about him yet. But you’re the only person he’s in a forgiving mood toward tonight. He has deposited you safely at the bidding room of the auction, the subtle glow of the protocores illuminating the lovely line of your haughtily upturned nose as you sauntered away from him clutching his black card, the other guests whispering in a painfully unsubtle manner behind their hands, speculating about who you are and the nature of your relationship to him. Mine, he had declared, as he handed over his proverbial wallet and told you to have fun.
As he strides down the dimly lit hall of the hotel in which the auction is being held, the deep carpet shushing his purposeful steps, he spots one of Sherman’s minions standing at attention at a closed door and can’t prevent the excitement rushing through him. He is so close to the craven idiot who dared act in his name, who sowed discord in his ranks, who hurt you so terribly and deprived you of your ‘family’, who, regardless of Sylus’s opinion of them, you clearly loved deeply. He is eager to kill two birds with one stone (apologies to Mephisto): wipe Sherman’s existential stain off this plane of existence, clean his house, avenge your loss, and be back to dance with you in a matter of minutes. The lackey finally notices him, begins lifting his wrist to speak into his earpiece, but unfortunately for him, he is little too late, as Sylus’ evol jerks him into the air by his neck—he is about to tighten it to snap the fuck’s spine in two when he hears your gorgeous voice through his own earpiece.
He pauses, suddenly anxious that something has gone wrong for you that and you’re in danger and that he’s not there, when he hears you say, “Do you mind if I use your card to buy one of these protocores?”
He shakes his head a little. Did he just hear you correctly? He might have to re-evaluate his estimation of your intelligence. He will continue to adore you even if you’re a little slow; your other qualities more than make up for any deficiencies in the intelligence department. Because why the fuck else would he hand you the equivalent of unfettered access to his bank account and tell you to have fun? Of course you can buy whatever the hell you want with it. But he knows you’re clever; the way you meet and counter his sarcasm, taunts and challenges without hesitation makes that clear. And you wouldn’t have survived for this long, risen to one of the elite teams in the Association’s ranks, if you were an imbecile. But he is busy, your sudden question made him anxious for you, and he's frothing at the mouth to get back to you to claim his dance.
“Do not bother me with such trivial matters!” he hisses into his own earpiece, and watches as the eyes of the idiot, who he still has by the throat, bulge further in response to his assailant angry-whispering into the empty hallway.
He’s about to finish this when he hears your voice again, offering an offensively low sum for the highest grade protocore this pretentious establishment has to offer.
“5 million!” he counters in a whisper-shout. He is not going to let these clowns think that your man is broke. He waits to hear your response, finally noticing that the guard he still has suspended in the air has passed out. When he hears you double the amount he had ordered you to offer, and then proceed to demand the rest of the items up for bid, Sylus laughs so hard that he momentarily loses control of his evol and the unconscious goon falls with an unceremonious, muffled thump onto the richly carpeted floor. Sylus contemplates his crumpled form for a moment, wiping the tears from his eyes. Suddenly he doesn’t have it in him to kill a guy who is probably only here for a paycheck, even if he does have atrocious taste in employers.
“You can thank my charming guest for your life tonight, if you manage to get through it alive,” he murmurs to the lump on the floor, before punching the door open with his evol-wrapped fist and striding in to find Sherman turning with a look of horror on his face as he recognizes who, precisely, was just laughing like a madman on the other side of the now ruined door.
After, once Sylus has successfully avenged himself and more importantly, you, he hums a little tune as he picks up Sherman’s detonator and saunters back to the ballroom. Maybe, if things keep going as well as they’re going now, and you like him a little better, he’ll sing it to you as a treat. Because of you, he's having so much fun.
*
And now, finally, he is going to claim his own treat before the action really begins. The utter boredom he was forced to endure while interrogating Sherman and uncovering his trite motivations is replaced by an eagerness bordering on mania to get back to his interesting little Hunter. He watches in amusement as a man sidles up to you and shows interest in your brooch, after having thoroughly shown interest in the rest of you before mustering the courage to actually speak to you.
He watches with slightly less amusement as your curiosity is piqued and you ask with your customary eagerness to learn new things, “Hightower? What’s that?” The man’s eyes light up at this apparent interest of yours, seeing an in with you and assertively requesting that you join him for the banquet dance.
Aaaand that’s enough. Sylus steps into the light and slides his hand around your waist, pulling you decisively into his side and feeling that dangerously seductive calm wash over him, as it always does, when he’s allowed to touch you. He knows it makes him weak. He does not care. His other strengths more than compensate for the crack in his armor you represent. Unlike Achilles, he knows exactly how to protect his vulnerability. His hand flexes involuntarily, fingers pressing a little too hard into your hip, until he is able to will it relaxed again.
“A Hightower is a type of gun. Just one can level this entire building,” he answers your question, fingering the detonator in his other pocket. He doesn’t need a Hightower to finish what he started tonight, and the thought translates into an the intense smugness as you frown at him for interrupting your conversation with your luckless suitor. “The brooch is a gift from me, I’m afraid,” he says smoothly, more than ready to send this guy scurrying along his way and draw your entire focus back to him, where he likes it best.
“You weren’t trying to sell it now, were you, kitten?” he goads you, just to see how you’ll respond to this blatant mischaracterization of the situation.
You don’t disappoint him: with your tight jaw belying your coy tone of voice, you run your hands up his chest, underneath the coat draped over his shoulders, and pretend to be a spoiled, thrill seeking brat testing a sugar daddy’s patience. Finally, the insignificant obstacle standing between him and the dance he has been looking forward to all evening gets the hint and slinks back into the crowded shadows.
And finally, finally, the music begins, bodies are moving around the two of you, and you’re in his arms as he gracefully leads you through the steps of the dance. He soaks in the feeling of his arm around your waist, your hand in his, your chests brushing against each other as you sway together across the dance floor. He notices that your attention is split between expressing doubt about whether he’s telling the truth regarding knowing the aether core’s location and constantly assessing potential threats—but Sylus does not want your eyes drifting elsewhere. He smoothly draws your eyes back to his, where they belong, and ensures that the only thing you can see is him by tightening his arm around your waist, drawing you in closer, and refusing to give you a direct answer to all of your questions. He sees your little scowl, the frustration in the line of your mouth, suppresses a wince when you deliberately stomp on his foot—but he doesn’t mind. Just as he doesn’t mind that you might not believe that he’s fulfilled his part of the deal, that he knows exactly where the aether core is, and that he has his own house’s situation finally under control with Sherman’s demise. In time, you’ll learn that you can trust him. And he has all the time in the world, now that you’re finally here and not trying to kill him.
He's in such a good mood he’s floating like a feather, until you mention the protocore bombs and something changes in the expression on your face. If he hadn’t been staring at your lovely face for weeks now, from afar through Mephisto and hacked security cameras, and while you were sleeping under his roof (if you have an objection to him exploiting your proximity by watching you as you sleep when you’re right there, under his roof, then sue him), and if he wasn’t currently in the process of soaking in every microexpression flitting across your upturned face from this close as you dance together, he might have missed it. But he doesn’t miss it. And he certainly doesn’t miss the involuntary shudder that runs through your body pressed to his. He realizes in a flash of intuition that the idea of the bombs bothers you—
He watches your throat as you swallow, and the very light sheen of sweat gathering at your temples, he watches your eyes begin to dart around again, your hand flexing with what is likely the need to grab your gun from underneath the fabric of your outfit, and he realizes that you’re starting to panic. Or have a panic attack. At the thought of bombs—
Like the bomb that destroyed your family and came so close to killing you too
He has watched you for weeks, seen the way you’ve worked almost non-stop, taking on assignment after assignment with hardly any rest in between except for when you were on the brink of collapse. When you weren’t working, you were training, kilometer after kilometer on the treadmill, heavier and heavier weight sets. And when you weren’t training, you were trying to orchestrate a way to infiltrate his territory, to hunt him and the aether core down. You weren’t sleeping, and you weren’t attending counseling. You haven’t processed what happened to you at all, and no one around you has forced you to confront what you have been avoiding this whole time. The dark circles under your precious eyes, the short fuse and oh so transparent mask of a smile plastered across your lovely, exhausted face—how they just let you continue as you have been infuriates him, and only the thought that he’s here now, in your life, whether you like it or not, is the only thing that stops him from adding new names to his extermination list. He will succeed where they have failed to care for you, even if you hate him for it.
However, he takes a moment to reproach himself, as just a few hours ago he was gloating to himself that soon you’d learn that his contingency plans have contingencies, that you could trust him to think of all the variables and know how to dismantle any obstacles. Yet he has been missing something so obvious while making his calculations of how tonight would go. Of course you’d have remaining trauma from what you have survived and what has been taken from you.
He recalculates—it’s too late to change the state of play now, but instead of the fireworks he has been looking forward to unleashing into chaos, this is now going to have to be a controlled demolition.
He lifts his hand and runs his fingertips along the curve of your jaw to return your focus to him. Once your too wide eyes are locked on his, he tightens his hold around your waist again.
“Look at me. Look only at me.” He waits, and something inside of him crows in triumph as, your hands tightening on him, you follow his directions and stare into his eyes, letting him continue speaking without struggle.
“We are going to detonate the bombs now that were originally intended later for me, kitten. It’s going to be loud, and most of this place will be rubble when we’re done.”
Before you can ask the how and why, he continues. “I have the detonator. I know you’re frightened. I’m sorry this is the method that I have tonight. But keep your eyes on me, and breathe. We’ll get through this together, do you understand?”
He can sense the shift in the energy of the room, the metaflux fluctuations and the increasing violent mood of the crowd, but he will make time for this and deal with any fallout from this slight delay. He will ensure that you get through this without spiraling into a panic attack and possibly getting hurt.
“Do you understand?” he asks again. And that same satisfaction, the sense of calm, that only you seem to be able to give him floods through him as you take a shuddering breath and nod, ever so slightly, eyes never leaving his.
He lets his fingers drift down your face, takes your hand in his and slips both of them into his pocket, pulling you even closer, your cheek coming to rest against his chest. He guides your hand around the detonator in his pocket, squeezing your hand gently in reassurance. “We’ll do this together. You’re in control,” he murmurs, eyes scanning the crowd now, having utter faith that you will have the courage to press the button despite the dread that must be filling you right now.
And you, with your cheek pressed against his warm chest, his steady heartbeat drowning out all the other sounds, including the ringing in your ears, your own thundering heartbeat, flashes of memory, a door closing, Caleb’s last words to you—you close your eyes and press, and the world explodes around the two of you. But you’re breathing, and Sylus is still holding you tight, and you’re alive, and you’ll deal with the terror threatening to drown you after you’ve gotten what you came for.
After you take one deep, slow breath, you reach for your gun, shove Sylus to the side and shoot the wanderer that was about to stab him in the back.
#love and deepspace#love and deepspace sylus#fanfiction#my fic#i had so much fun playing through the auction bits of long-awaited revelry and both sylus and MC made me laugh out loud#so i really liked imagining what sylus was experiencing on the other side#i hope if anyone reads this that they enjoy it#i had fun writing it#lads sylus
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