#back for more mv

[maximura]

[aprilszn]

Stream Back for More for clear skin clear mind bright future 😌

[surreal-duck]

Tuesday is chuu day! (x)

[remaining-pain]

Will Ramos in "Wired for Destruction" by Bodysnatcher (x)

[tojiscrack]

lock IN, everyone 🫨 my husband’s coming home TONIGHT 🤭

‘disney kai—’

I DON’T CAREEEE ☹️ give me my disney kaisen!!! the emotional distress, wet pillows, and ruined skincare would finally be compensated for 🤨

on every single doubter’s soul, SATORU IS COMING BACKKK

[pinkinsect]

alexis ness

[inkedhorror]

yeesh... been a while since i posted art. hey chat

reblogs much appreciated tyvm

killer -> rahafwabas

nightmare & dream/dreamtale -> jokublog

[feralarsonistschewingsand]

It's the car imagery for me.

Car radio, next semester, taxi cab, a car a torch a death, overcompensate, Midwest indigo

For Tyler it feels like a car is a source, a symbol, of anxiety of loss of control.

Car radio is him unable to cope with the silence in his car.

Next semester is him barely jumping out if the way of an oncoming vehicle

In taxi cab the car is a saving grace, kinda, because it feels like he's still dead inside that hearse, he lost the battle

A car a torch a death- the whole time he's only stop from crashing the car, from jumping out onto the freeway, by the thought that someone might miss him,

Overcompensate- the whole dangerous bend symbol line IS a loss of control, loose control of the car by driving around a tight curve too fast

Throughout midwest indigo its filled with anxiety that he won't be on time, that he isn't driving fast enough

It is that struggle with control it feels like, it is the car front the heavy dirty soul mv.

Which is FASCINATING because how I interact with my car Is wildly different. My car is my little spot of freedom, of being able to sing at the top of my lungs, to work through problems and conversations, the only place where I can let loose and Cry.

Tyler is afraid of feeling his emotions in his car cuz it allows for the freedom of loosing control

My car is the only place I CAN feel so e of those emotions cuz my coping mechanisms r a little fucked.

I just- the car imagery

[haventseensun]

ra ra ra ra ra rabuka?

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

Arthur.

He sounds very insistent, almost urgent, so Arthur’s response is to roll over on his other side and say half into the pillow, “If you start talking about the ceiling again, I’ll scream.”

-What? No, for fuck’s sake, I want to talk to you.

He huffs a sigh. “Can it wait until morning? John, I’m tired.”

And yet you’re still awake.

There is no good retort to that one, because he’s objectively correct. Sleep is proving evasive, despite how physically and emotionally wrung out he feels. Hell, maybe some conversation would even help ease him into unconsciousness. He shifts again, so he’s lying on his back, looking up at the underside of a roof he can’t see. “Fine. What do you want?”

Back in Addison, it had been… what, from your perspective? A few days?

“If that,” he mutters, somewhat reluctantly.

And already you were… I don’t know. Self-flagellating. You wanted…

“Forget about what I wanted,” he tries to deflect, feeling instinctively defensive. “That’s over with now. It doesn’t matter.”

Just let me talk, dammit! I thought it was… that this was new, that something in Addison brought it on, but back in the Dreamlands you… I’m just– I keep… circling around it, but I don’t… He can hear him trying to wind his way back out of the maze of words. When he speaks again, it’s almost pleading.

Why did you do it, Arthur? Why did you put that dagger to your throat?

“…Oh.” Now slightly mollified, he lets the question sit for a while. It hadn’t quite… occurred to him, that John might not have immediately grasped his intentions. What it must have looked like from an outside perspective. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t trying to die. –I mean I was, but it was… that was a… side effect. The, the method, it was…”

Then what the fuck were you trying to do?

“I… he was– using me against you, John. I couldn’t…” he falters on the words. It’s difficult to put voice to that whirlwind of emotion.

So you thought if you removed yourself from the equation, I would… his voice turns suddenly acidic– what? What happens to me if you die, Arthur?

It’s less of a question than a sharp reminder. And he is reminded, of using this same thing as a whip to make Yellow compliant. A fleeting stab of regret made sharper by John’s sudden silence when he confirms aloud, “The Dark World.” But he presses on– “We- we both go. Or so we believe. And so the King seemed to think, as well.”

Yes, he almost growls the word, his discomfort with this entire subject painfully obvious. That’s why it’s so imperative that we avoid it.

“But the alternative—if I let the King take you, I thought you would… disappear. Forever. That… that John… would be... beaten into submission, and then destroyed. But the Dark World—you would still be… you. And I would be there, too. We could… find each other.”

There is a long silence, and when he finally speaks, he can hear him weighing every word, as if it’s deathly important that he make himself crystal clear. Arthur, the Dark World is… torture unimaginable. Even now, I cannot describe it to you in a way that will… do it justice. It is a hell that stretches on unto infinity.

“But we wouldn’t be alone,” he rebuts, like that’s all he needs to say.

John lets that sit for another long moment, apparently at a loss for how to respond. There’s a weight to his silence that makes his mind whisper unwelcome things—he’s keeping something from you, he’s—but he swallows that thought back. He actually doesn’t want to start another fight, not this very second. He can give John a fucking minute to think.

Finally, he speaks, sounding like he’s turning the words over as he does. You… were trying to… save me.

“Save is a bit generous,” he murmurs in response, lolling his head to one side on the pillow. “Uncharitably, I was trying to keep you. Not as if I gave you a say in the matter. I’m not sure which word you would prefer.”

I– John bites something back, sounding startled. He hesitates, again.

I don’t… want to lose you, either.

He hums, a bit surprised with himself at how pleased he is with that response.

So please, he turns insistent again, don’t make it so that I have to.

“I won’t.” He reaches to his left side, finds the arm and trails down to the wrist, the hand, knits their fingers together. “I promise.”

[maximura]

[radio-4-is-static]

Audacious | Franz Ferdinand

So don't stop feeling audacious, there's no one to save us So just carry on And don't go blaming the neighbours, you know they're the same as us We should just get on Get on

[good-beanswrites]

One more scene from Fuuta-Es convos with @waivyjellyfish for now :3 I liked exploring Es' post-canon mindset as an ex-murder investigator... Like my other drabble, I don't have the details worked out but Milgram is over and they're living at the Kajiyamas' now.

What Fuuta didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

It’s what Es told themself as they slipped into his clothes. They’d spotted the outfit at the bottom of Fuuta’s closet a few days ago, then decided to bide their time. With Fuuta and his sister downstairs having breakfast, there was a small window of opportunity now.  

Es stuck their arm through the red-striped sleeve. They still didn’t know what possessed them to put it on. 

Was it the appeal of something familiar? In a world devoid of all memories, they enjoyed the idea of putting on at least one outfit that they’d seen hundreds of times on their little music video screen. Is it possible to be comforted by someone else’s memories?

Was it old habits? They’d spent each trial doing anything and everything to feel closer to the prisoners. To take a peek into their minds. To step into their shoes. This was taking it a bit literally, they knew. Although everything was over and they had no reason to connect so deeply to any of the prisoners, Es couldn’t get away from the duty they’d obsessed over for so long.

Maybe it was just their troublesome curiosity, always driving them forward. There was a small part of them that hungered for more information, no matter the reason. They were perfectly aware that putting on Fuuta’s red and blue tracksuit would probably offer them absolutely nothing new, but they had to try. Something might be revealed to them, and they needed to know. 

Es stood in front of the full length mirror. They turned one way. They turned the other way. They shifted their arms. They cocked their head.

Sure enough, nothing. 

They took note of the little details. It was a little big on them, (though  it wouldn’t take them long to catch up to Fuuta’s size). It was neither fashionable nor tacky. The material wasn’t exactly comfortable, but at least it felt warm.

But, did it make them feel any closer to Fuuta?

They contemplated a moment, thinking of all that he may have done in the outfit. There were so many classes these pants had walked to, so many arcade coins that these pockets had held. Es wondered if his friends ever nudged the shoulders of the jacket playfully. Maybe they weren’t the type. It had probably seen it’s share of all nighters. And also lazy days spent in bed, or sick days laid up on the couch.

They puffed their chest out, thinking of the confidence Fuuta may have had wearing this. They pulled the hood over their hair. It had likely seen just as much as his hesitance. How many times had he sunk into the thick material for an escape? Or was there an opposite effect – did he feel so comfortable in this that he could commit murder?

Es stared at themself.

There came some shuffling out in the hall. Before Es could move, Fuuta was shouting to his sister and bursting into the room.

“Will you get out of my fucking hair if I bring it to you right –” he froze. “Now...”

Es, too, was frozen in place, their eyes wide. 

“I-I’m sorry.” They started unzipping the jacket. “I saw it and… I didn’t mean to –”

“ – It’s fine,” Fuuta muttered. He waved his hand dismissively. He started shuffling things around in his desk drawer, angling his head down, out of sight. His voice was strained, though it wasn’t as angry as Es had been expecting. “It’s not like I’m ever gonna wear it again.”

Es carefully folded the jacket over their arm. “I wasn’t trying to bring up the past. I was just…” What had they been doing? 

“I said it’s fine.” 

“I know it’s not.”

“You don’t know anything. Wear it every day for all I care. I was just gonna toss it.”

“You still can. Or, I can.”

“Nah.” Fuuta retrieved what he was looking for. He paused in the doorway, taking one last look over his shoulder. “Looks better on you, anyway.”

Es straightened in surprise as he left. They took another look in the mirror. They allowed themself a small smile. They might have undersold how comfortable it was.

Now that they were thinking of it, they did look pretty cool… Maybe that was all there was to it.

[acebytaemin]

no matter what taemin is taemin and don’t you FORGET IT

[lesbiancarat]

want to give my two cents on the AI usage in the maestro trailer--

i think seventeen doing a whole concept that is anti-AI is very cool, especially as creatives themselves i think it's good that they're speaking up against it and i hope it gets more ppl talking about the issue. i also understand on a surface level the artistic choice (whether it was made by the members, the mv director, or whoever else), to directly use AI in contrast to real, human-made visuals and music in order to criticize it. i also appreciate that they clearly stated the intention of the use of AI at the beginning of the video

however, although i understand it to an extent, i do not agree with the choice to use AI to critique AI. one of the main ethical concerns with generative AI is that it is trained on other artists' work without their knowledge, consent, or compensation. and even when AI generated images are being used to critique AI, it still does not negate this particular ethical concern

the use of AI to critique also does not negate the fact that this is work that could have been done by an actual artist. i have seen some people argue that it's okay in this context because it's a critique specifically about AI, and it is content that never would have been done by a real artist anyway because it doesn't make sense for the story they're trying to tell. but i disagree. i think you can still tell the exact same story without using AI

and in fact, i would argue that it would make the anti-AI message stronger if they HAD paid an artist to draw/animate the scenes that are supposed to represent AI generated images. wouldn't it just be proof that humans can create images that are just as bad and nonsensical and soulless as AI, but that AI can't replicate the creativity and beauty and basic fucking anatomy that's in human-made art?

it feels very obvious this was not just a way to cut corners and costs like a lot of scummy people are using AI for. ultimately it was a very intentional creative decision, i just personally think it was a very poor one. and even if some ethical considerations were taken into account before this decision, i certainly don't think all of them were. at the very least i feel like the decision undermines the message they want to convey

i would also like to recognize that i myself am not an artist, and i have seen some artists that are totally on board with the use of AI in this specific context, so clearly this is not a topic that is cut and dry. but generative AI is still new, and i think it's important to keep having these conversations

[deus-ex-mona]

sisters of all time~~