#does this before i forget again

[parasolemn]

[Image description: The first image is a digital painting of Visual Calculus' skill portrait in Disco Elysium. Text reads: "VISUAL CALCULUS - The cold sea breeze stings your face as you step on the boardwalk. The body is gone, but something still lingers in the air. And high above it, against the stars..." End text. The portrait then fades into a dark night sky. The second image continues from the first with the same night sky. Text reads: "VISUAL CALCULUS - A luminous wheel of pleasure and all things bright, its wooden frame creaking in the wind. Twelve red cabins form a circle that stretches from the engines below to the flocks of seagulls up in the sky. INLAND EMPIRE [Medium: Success] - The mirage looks both sad and glorious in the mist, like an insect trapped in glass." End text. Green and blue lines from Visual Calculus' portrait twist around an orange, blue and purple projection of a ferris wheel. Behind it, the sun emerges in a bright burst of colour. Harry Du Bois looks up at it, amazed; Kim Kitsuragi looks at him in concern. Text reads: "YOU - 'You don't see it?' KIM KITSURAGI - 'See what?' The lieutenant looks around uncomfortably." End ID]

[deoidesign]

Thinking about vampires, death, life, and the space they occupy in between

[cybertron-smash-or-pass]

Bonus! "Longarm Prime"

[lunarharp]

revamped looong mermaid orufrey au :')

[aroanthy]

i love how fraught and complicated discourse around various utena characters ‘dying’ is when anthy is literally stabbed to death eternally by a million swords imbued with human hatred. and then utena gets stabbed to death by them also. like. ‘death’ is incredibly interesting in rgu because most of the time it’s this ambiguous figurative thing that has interesting implications re: ohtori as a closed-off world one can escape. we are all trapped in our coffins. mamiya is the only named character with a grave. nemuro memorial hall functions as one all the same. ruka is implied to have died in the hospital— was he dead all along? who was the boy we saw for these two episodes? is this dead boy the same boy, or is this just another coincidence from the shadow girls, cutting like a knife? it’s heavily implied that akio and anthy murder kanae by poisoning her, adding to the previous implication that they were poisoning mr ohtori too, but there are no perceptible consequences of this. kanae’s absence is not felt. she’s fed an apple slice. what happens to the bodies? we know what happened to the 100 boys, but what about everyone else? and so on and so forth. ‘death’ is a tricky thing in utena, i think it’s constantly functioning on figurative and literal levels in very different ways for very different purposes. dios died. dios was dying. dios didn’t die. he grew up. etc etc

[keicordelle]

Thinking about Ryuu's first time on stage. Ryuu, who'd never performed in front of anyone before in his life. Ryuu, who grew up as a fisherman's son in Okinawa, and whose greatest aspiration is to fix his father's boat and send his brothers to university. Ryuu, who wasn't even on a popular sports team playing in front of a crowd before he joined up with TRIGGER.

Ryuu, surrounded by two of the most exacting people he's ever met, up on stage staring out at the people gathered there to see them. TRIGGER. And it doesn't matter if it's a dozen or a hundred or ten thousand, that first time it seems like a million. Two thousand eyes on you, hotter even than the spotlights making him sweat. No matter how you try to prepare yourself for that, you can never really be ready for the reality of that sort of thing.

Do you think he froze up? Got nervous and missed a cue? Tenn stepping in from behind him to make up for it, and he's smiling, because of course he's smiling, he's on stage, but Ryuu can feel how angry he's going to be later. Gaku trying to cover for his fumbled dance moves with a little extra charm, but it makes the weight on Ryuu's shoulders weigh all the more heavily.

He just wanted to fix his father's boat.

Stand on the stage. Sing. Dance. Smile. It sounds so easy.

It will be. Eventually. Easier, at least. Never easy.

[mars-ipan]

they're so GROSSSSSS (<- desperately wants what they have)

alt color under the cut:

[inventedfangirling]

today on thoughts that make me scream its that the thai name for bad buddy series is "just a friend, friend" and how the word friend follows them thoughout their lives and how that is driving me crazy not just because they were forbidden from being "friends", not just because they had to put up a front of enmity while they were clearly helping each other out and cooperating behind closed doors, not just because pat said that life-changing goosebump inducing reverent no when pran asked him if he wanted to be friends, not because thats their dream life that they could have had, had their parents not forced them to hate eo, not because they fell in love and got together or even that they had to fake break up and pretend to hate each other and be "enemies" all over again and then spend years apart where one clutches onto the other's friend unfriend shirt like its an anchor, until he gets back and now they can clutch onto each other, but because all through that time, even in their worst of moments, they always thought about eo, worried about eo and cared about eo, that despite it all they were always, first and foremost, friends.

friends who helped each other, listened to each others worries, gave eo the space to feel things and be vulnerable and talk about it, giving unconditional support and love, while also simultaneously having the most fun dynamic and banter, playing and teasing each other all the time, but yeah also ofc wanting to eat each other up with all the looming and the staring at the lips and the casual intimacy and the public confessions, the kind of friends who know the way you taste lalalaa and i won't ever be getting over it.

[7roaches]

sorrry ppl who donr follow me for utmv dtuff & sorry canon-strict ppll but nm & killer r soo incredibly important to me can u imagine being the embodiment the literal proof that there is bad and pain in this world or being the loowest of the low & then you have a silly bestfriend who u loveclove love lovr love so mjch & ur so fucked up u dont know where u end & your reluctant life purpose begins but u have a silly bestrfriend who wraps your wounds and youure all he reallyneeds & hes all you really need do you get it. do you get it. do you get it.

[entermyrealm]

feedback?

i'm admitting now that i honestly hadn't had one thought about the netflix sandman show AT ALL since they first released it, back when i first watched it. that was until Dream showed up in a very strange dream of mine. now, i can't seem to let go of it, the show, or anything else sandman-related (thanks a lot, morpheus), so i've decided to write my dream down in hopes of...something.

i miss writing my dreams as if they were stories, so if you want to read on, you can click below. if you do end up reading it, i welcome any feedback about how it's written. keep in mind that i'm writing it literally from my dreaming self's perspective (it's not meant to make a ton of sense, that's just how it happened). but i'd love to continue writing fanfic (and just in general), so feel free to let me know your thoughts. ✨

Dreaming (of an Endless)

On this night, not unlike other nights, you see yourself cross the threshold of a Jacobean manor. A gentle swish is all that announces your presence as the hem of your cloak brushes each concrete step leading up to the entrance. Moonlight illuminates the path behind you. You watch from afar as your darkened form passes through the heavy wooden doors that have curiously been left unlocked and ajar. The manor is welcoming both you and your watching self.

This version of you, this walking form, is shifting along with the environment. Your attire has changed once inside. Music can be heard in a distant room. Everything is quite black, but it is not unwelcoming. You notice that even though your cloak is gone, you feel safely enveloped in this darkness. Golden glowing candles intermittently dot each wall. You can feel the faint vibration of voices growing stronger with each careful step.

Am I here to greet them? Is this my purpose?

Before you can wonder whether or not you remember being invited, smartly dressed figures materialize around you. Much like yourself, they appear to undulate intangibly, as if their forms are undecidedly incorporeal. Your eyes see yourself watching them as you pass each group; softly smiling faces deep in conversation with their tablemates, some with tentative fingers gently touching. Your mind catches a peripheral glimpse down the darkened hall to your left. Small, antique tables hosting quiet guests are lined up against the windowed wall and extend all the way back into nothingness. An imposing staircase reveals itself next to this hallway, but an uneasiness prevents you from looking up to the second floor.

A shift, and then: lights! One light, rather, fixed above a small stage, shines so brightly that you blink to avert both sets of eyes. In that blink, you’ve become a confident body moving boldly through a large crowd that has formed in the center of this room. Your watching self notices red curtains hanging across the stage, in front of which sits a single wooden stool.

Your attention snaps forward to the mansion’s front entrance, at which you are now greeting an invited guest. Someone in the business of entertaining, but you have difficulty placing exactly who they are. It doesn’t matter anyway. You usher them inside with an arm at their back, passing over a bright red carpet that suddenly lines the foyer. You stop them briefly to warn them about the crowd just on the other side of the wall, but they simply wave you away. Your walking self shrugs and turns. You can see yourself smirk as the crowd erupts into shouts and applause.

As you leave this raucous behind, the inviting dark surrounds you once more. You feel a deep breath fill your lungs. The mansion’s muted greens, golds and burgundy are being traded in for cooler tones.

Is something coming?

You thought you were feeling exhausted, but the dark boots that were once on your feet feel lighter, along with the rest of your clothing. This new form is curious to explore the mansion and its grounds. Your watching self seems to join with the walking; both sets of eyes are viewing the same path that is just barely visible outside in the night garden.

The moon is a silver lamp in the sky. Stars can be seen faintly winking. Is that an old oak tree? Astonishingly massive leaf-covered limbs stretch up and out as if to reach the moon. You briefly marvel at the tree and everything else outside.

Hmf.

You are not sure of the next sequence of events. An impossibly pale hand reaches to hold yours. You reach behind you without turning to grab hold of an impossibly pale hand. Restrained strength lingers there. A breath. A low voice. He breathes and you feel him keeping pace with you, if ever so deliberately behind. Your fingers touch and your black cloak returns to match his. He towers above you. No, he is…slouching? Both of you go unnoticed by all houseguests on silent cat feet. 

As a pair, you have walked every inch of the mansion’s first floor before finally stepping out into the night garden together. Through the glass double doors, descending a few stone stairs, bare feet disturbing pearls of dew on the grass, yet making no sound on the gravel path. You pass through low bushes and attempt to continue on to a dark clearing between the trees.

We could explore the rest of this garden, too! The moon is so bright, and there’s a path up ahead - 

Stop… 

Pleading, slow, not demanding. You think you heard it in your ear, but maybe it came from inside your head. He used too much strength (he doesn’t know it), and you’re chest to chest facing his seemingly solid form. You’re looking up at his face. He keeps shifting, undulating. Is he nervous? You decide to look down, away from those dark starry eyes, and you notice that his hands are grasping yours between the two of you. You frown. Your watching self frowns.

You cannot stay with me.

His voice is too melodious and almost apologetic. You can barely focus. You just want to do as he says… You start.

Why does it matter? Why can’t it be my decision? Let’s go wherever we can.

His stoic glance is betrayed by the slightest smirk. There is so much hesitation.

No.

This is annoying. You are annoyed.

The walker and the watcher. This is not the first time we have met.

Isn’t it, though? You actually can’t recall. You frown again. You feel his hands drop from yours. He watches them fall to your sides. Wait - he’s…avoiding your questions. Wasting time.

I’m certainly not meant to stay here.

No. To stay with me means pain and death. You would have to die.

Dramatic.

I’m no stranger to either. I have no fear of either.

All of the air is gone. For a moment, it’s as if the reassuring curtain of night drops to reveal that you have both been standing in the desolate, uncaring cosmos. You blink. His eyes are pitch. The night garden is surrounding you once more, but something has changed. There is a pressure keeping you immobile. Your watching self sees that his arms have wrapped around your center with his hands at the small of your back. He carefully extends two long fingers on each hand and pushes into either side of your spine.

Your watching and walking bodies go rigid, gasping, and your head recoils at the sudden pressure and pain. The pain grows, but you feel yourself protesting. You make a pained noise but still persist in your wanting to stay with him.

You manage to lower your head down and forward to see his large slender form looming over you, wrapped around you, dark eyes glistening, almost teary but determined. Scared? Uneasy. He knows you have magic, too. He knows you can be stubborn. He is pushing you away, out of the dreaming. You swear you catch a glimpse of regret.

You wake up.

[the-red-thread-that-strangles]

I was wondering what Akai is up to in the sweater weather AU, so here you go

I.

Akai Shuichi is a thrillseeker at heart, but even he has his limits.

So when his mother, conveniently pocket-sized but still as sharp as ever, threatens him with a gun and lays into him, not for faking his death, but, of all things, for not mentioning his partner to her, he privately questions her priorities but decides to tell her the truth. He certainly likes to live dangerously, but he wouldn't be alive today if he didn't know how to pick his battles.

While she seems initially confused, the conversation about Akemi quickly veers off-track when his mother asks him to repeat her family name. Miyano, as in, her sister's daughter Miyano Akemi. Shuichi didn't even know he had an aunt. Not that it matters much, since he knows Akemi's parents died years ago. Eventually his mother leaves him alone, both of them too caught up in their heads to continue the conversation.

Shuichi's not really sure what to feel about all of that. So he doesn't.

.

He's not always been good at managing his emotions, but it's pretty close. When his father taught him how to hunt, and the misery of seeing proud game succumb to his shots had almost swallowed him alive, something cracked under the pressure. And whatever that was, despite Shuichi's best efforts, it has never quite healed alright. It left him with a slight gap between his thoughts and feelings, giving him that bit of extra distance necessary to keep going instead of breaking down. He'd come to understand, then, with a clarity born from numbness, death as an integral part of life. It comes for all living things, sometimes too early, and there really is no way to escape it. There's no use in fighting. Better get used to it.

The FBI counsellor called it repression, many years later, and while it was not even close to immediate grounds for disqualification from the program, she tried to give Shuichi reading materials on mindfulness and self-reflection. He hasn't touched them; the ability has been too helpful so far. He would've shattered several times over without it; when his father disappeared and his world threatened to break apart; when he decided to leave his family, including an unborn sister, behind for the ghost of a chance to find his father; and most often since he went undercover for the FBI. There's no fooling himself, compartmentalization and repression are probably the only reasons he can talk about the years and years of dirty work, including everything from blackmail to torture and murder, without losing his sanity. People call him cold-blooded and emotionally unavailable, and mean it as an insult. Shuichi can't bring himself to care. Life is complicated enough without emotions thrown into the mix. He needs to control some factors and keep them simple. Himself, he can control - mostly. So he does.

And he's good at it, but some days, it's too much.

.

Dealing with Akemi's untimely demise has always been difficult. He made a mistake when he got attached to his target. He can't even claim that he didn't know better, at the time, because he did, he just chose to ignore his better judgement. Couldn't help it, really. She was so easy to get along with, gentle yet tough as nails in a way that gave him, too, the strength needed to make a name for himself as a hitman. Those first couple of months before he learned not to sleep too much, when he came back from his missions feeling stained in blood that never even touched him, when he maintained his cover throughout the day and threatened to break apart by night, she was there to steady him. And she allowed him to be gentle with her, to hold her and love her and promise her the world. He needed desperately to not just be a monster, and she managed to see the man in him.

Now he's left to wonder if the easy familiarity he settled into with Akemi was a result of their relation. Such a pointless question.

.

With the help of a few glasses of Maker's Mark, a pack of cigarettes, and a probably unhealthy amount of emotional distancing, he manages to lay the matter to rest, for now. Until the organisation is dealt with, he can't afford to let his emotions get in the way, so he buries them as deep as he can, and applies logic to the problem.

Ultimately, he reasons, rhythmically assembling and disassembling his IWI Jericho to give his hands something to do, it doesn't really change things. What matters is that he loved her and she died for it. Whatever he learned after can't tarnish that memory. It's a simple fact that he needs to keep going to avenge her; aside from that, all he can do right now is remember her, and honour her last request. That's the active parameter he can affect: he will see to it that Miyano Shiho is protected, or die trying.

Shuichi considers telling the girl they're cousins, and eventually, he will - if she doesn't figure it out before that, keen as she is. But for now, she still doesn't trust him, has too much to worry about, and honestly, for a supposedly dead man he has enough tetchy family connections already. Maybe, when all of this is over, he can tell Masumi - she's a bit too careless to be told now, and he hopes his mother shares this assessment. But his little sister is great at breaking the ice, and he's sure she would love to hear she has more family. It might do Shiho well, too, knowing she isn't as alone as she might think. Their family is odd enough that she'll fit right in.

He's not sure he'd wish it upon her, though. Dealing with his darling mother always involves a headache of some kind. He is reminded once again why he didn't join the MI6, and why he tries to keep contact with her to a minimum. Still, somewhere deep down and buried, he's glad she seems to be well enough to feel like going out and threatening him. It's almost cute, even if she's deadly.

.

Despite his best efforts not to let it affect him, emotional exhaustion sticks to him through the next couple of days, uneventful as they are. Sleeping would probably help, but he keeps himself awake with coffee where he can, only napping a couple hours a day. Shuichi's life is one of constant vigilance, of surveillance and planning and striking at precisely the right time. And it suits him just fine, patience is in his nature. But while he's not on a mission, it sometimes leaves him just a little bit bored. The Kudo library is extensive, but there's only so many mystery novels he can read before his mind starts to wander. Trying not to think of Akemi's death is like trying not to think about pink elephants once he has been reminded of them. The comparison is uncharitable, and he knows she wouldn't appreciate his brooding, but it's not like he has much else to occupy himself with. Yes, there are the preparations for a joint operation against the organization coming up in a little over a month, and there's a class Okiya Subaru has to attend Tuesday evenings, but it's not like they require his full attention. He still tries to give it to them.

II.

Shuichi's not sure whether it's a blessing or a curse that he's meeting with Furuya Rei a couple of days after the ill-fated encounter with his mother.

Their relationship is tumultuous at best, and murderous at worst, complicated in the way all interactions containing Furuya tend to be, as the man is dictated by exactly the kind of emotions Shuichi tries to avoid. Granted, it is a rather one-sided disagreement; as with most things, Shuichi has no strong feelings about Furuya. He respects the other agent's abilities, particularly the fact he is still undercover, and teasing him is surprisingly fun. That's about it. Shuichi's keenly aware of Furuya's flaws, but as long as they don't bother their operations, he's not going to do anything about them.

In fact, in the last weeks - months really, at this point - he's been enjoying going along with Furuya's whims, meeting him to exchange the sweaters he seems to be so obsessed with. When he's not trying to hound him, Furuya can be somewhat decent company, chattering away about the mundane things that irritate him. Until he realizes he's been too pleasant, at which point he gets a little volatile to make sure Shuichi understands they're not actually friends. It's nothing Shuichi can't handle, and to be completely honest, he appreciates a little less boredom in his life.

Today, though, doom and gloom and failure still on his mind, he's not really up for playing games with the PSB agent. They know each other better than anyone else alive, aside from maybe Morofushi. Furuya will understand.

So he prepares a bag, shoves the sweater Furuya requested in, double-checking it's the right one because he really doesn't need another lecture right now, and waits for the agent to break into the Kudo mansion so he can hand it over and be done with it. Considering he's an ally now, Shuichi would offer him a key, but he's got the distinct impression Furuya would somehow misconstruct it as an insult to his abilities.

.

Exactly five minutes ahead of schedule, there's the click of the first-story balcony door, and Shuichi pads down from the sniper nest in the attic to meet his guest. Wordlessly, he holds out the bag to Furuya in the hallway. "Not even a good evening? Lacking in manners as usual, Akai Shuichi." Shuichi shrugs, can't be bothered. Shakes the bag. "Here's what you came for." Furuya's eyes narrow, scan across his form, then his brows furrow. An expression Shuichi hasn't seen on him before crosses his face, and before he has time to interpret it, it's gone, replaced by a smirk. "Hey, Akai." He stretches, dangling his own bag overhead. "That takedown you performed on the serial killer two weeks ago. Teach it to me." Shuichi stares back, unimpressed. "Maybe next time, I'm not-" Two quick steps, and Furuya's in his space, eyes blazing blue, looking up at him so impossibly bright. "That wasn't a question, Akai." He grins, eyes shining. "Or you're not getting your sweater back."

Shuichi almost lets out a laugh. That's gotta be up there somewhere in the top five stupidest threats he's ever been issued. Which is really saying something, considering he spent his teenage years in a high school in the US, and then some more years with FBI trainees in Quantico. What is it with Furuya and his sweater fixation? Akai doesn't care, he can have them all if it gets him out of his hair.

Unfortunately, Shuichi's best death glare doesn't seem to have the desired effect. Determination is either Furuya's best or worst quality, depending on how much trouble his current agenda involves, and for the sake of Shuichi's time, it's probably quicker to go along with him than to try and forcibly relocate him, even if he's certain he could. With a quiet sigh he makes for the basement gym.

.

Where his temper shines through in conversations, Furuya's presence in a fight is that of a wildfire, contained in a person. When he fights, he burns, sucking the oxygen and attention out of his surroundings, doesn't allow for distractions or he'll singe and bite and sting whatever is in his path. He takes to Akai's instructions easily, and soon enough they're no longer practicing but engaged in a sparring match. Furuya doesn't leave him time to consider anything else, at all, and damnit, that fervour of his is contagious. The battlejoy kicks in, hard, and Shuichi finds himself mirroring the PSB agent's mad grin as they wrestle for dominance, toss each other into the mat, twist and turn and struggle on the fine line between play and serious fighting.

Once they're staying down on the mats, the battle is over quickly; one moment he has Rei in a full-body pin, sure of his surrender; only for the man to twist his legs, shift their positions, and straddle Shuichi, bending down to choke him. He's stunning like this, flushed and panting for breath, his scorching gaze focused intently on Shuichi and Shuichi alone, looking for an opportunity to make him yield. An effigy of life itself.

Shuichi can't help it; his heart soars, his blood sings, his body shivers. Rei is a pinpoint focus of light, and then everything goes dark.

.

Sweater weather AU masterpost

[sunnibits]

hey quick question how does the animation code even deal with having a gnome/halfling tav kiss halsin I really wanna know. like does he have to whittle them a stepladder or something how does that happen.

[discjude]

Yeah this is about right (as always my thoughts are in the tags so there's actually kei content there lmao)

[thecelestialsyzygy]

Look, Noah is a cast member of the show. He's going to talk about the show/his character. Sharing little clips taken from insta that are specifically about byler and shared in the byler tag after we all know about the situation is not giving him more platform than he already has. If you don't like seeing his name, block it or ignore the post.

[simplestoryteller]

So I've never been super into the mha fandom but now I like it a bit more due to the fact that I share a birthday with Izuku.

This is honestly the first time I've shared a birthday with a character and

[transingthoseformers]

Also consider

Timeline where Megs doesn't wake up (sorry babygirl, but I need you out of the way for this) and Starscream stays / is in command of the decepticons with Soundwave as essentially the SIC and Knockout as essentially the TIC

Like

How would their interactions with the bots and human settlements change, the decisions, the artifact hunt, would Unicron try to wake up again or no, the status of the war, what all would change? I've only read a few fics where this happened but they focused more on say shipping. And while I'm very loud about having fun shipping and letting the robots have hot and nasty sex, I'm thinking about this with my head this time.