okay so. like. wan ed 12. dazai is stopped by a log in the river and starts actually drowning. funny haha wan bit.

but repeating something ive said (hi haven) i think this is actually a really good example for how ada dazai doesn't really want to kill himself. he could've actually drowned here. thats his 'goal' right? but the moment it starts happening he's trying to get his head back above water.

"I thought I was dead"

hilariously wet and horrified or not he obviously didn't want to die here. theres nobody around to hear what he said anymore anyway. and that's why, despite being yk... a wan ending animation? i still think this is such like. a case in point.

did everybody remember when atlus finally restored the attendant social link in the steam port and how stupid it actually was

are you there, Anchor? / always, Anchor.

FaTT pinup week: challenge mode!

what's sexier than Divines NOTHING!!

Pinup week is the first time I've posted art online pretty much ever and it's been such a wonderful experience, so thank you all! especially @fatt-pinups for hosting!!

On writing and liking

So there's about a million ways I could start my thoughts in this post, and all of them feel...whiny. I hate feeling whiny. I don't want to be someone who thinks about writing as "content." I feel rewarded by the act of writing, by trying new things, by pushing myself to improve, by sharing with friends who know me and know my style and my characters. But I would be lying if I said that that's all of it, right? I post because I want to share my writing, and I want people to interact with it.

It takes the wind out of my sails, a little, when I have followers (or non-followers!) who like my writing posts, repeatedly, and never go beyond that. Or, on the same token, reblog with no tags. I never want to feel entitled to the attention of strangers, but it's the halfway of things like this that starts to irk me. I understand that there are a million reasons why someone may not interact at a certain point and time - I get it!  We're busy people with responsibilities. But when it's a consistent thing, I start to wonder why they're bothering at all, if they don't ever seem to actually see it. I don't even need to get in the reblogs vs. likes debate - I love a reply! I love asks! I would not be here if I didn't.

And it's not just writing - I understand that I don't have my longfic up yet! But I want to know that that's ok, that people follow me not just because of what I reblog. Along for the ride means bugging me from the backseat, not staying silent until we're at the destination.

Lye „Lyke“ Lychen as a sacrifical altar (to Aterika’Kaal) (but he's also kind of the sacrifice)

my @secret-samol gift for @bronanlynch! for the Aterika’Kaal/Lyke prompt of „what if things had gone differently and Aterika'Kaal was still with Lyke“.

notes on this under the readmore!

AU

In this scenario Lyke would succeed in getting the heart of the Motherbeast in Episode 47 and while Alaway would notice & probably still call out to Aterika’Kaal the way he presumably did in canon, Lyke would be there and get to make a compelling case to Aterika’Kaal the likes of „If you stay with me I am going to feed you. I’ve taken care of you until now, I’ll keep doing that“ (argument supported by the fact he’s currently holding the heart of an incredibly powerful dead god). Aterika’kaal agrees and they barely escape through the Sanctum of the Stone Chorus portal. I think it's fun if Lyke then stays there after the hour described in the move is over, maybe knowing he can't convince Pickman & the others that what he's done is actually good, and fine, there's not even anything to worry about he has this totally handled, But yeah he then sets out from whereever in Sangfielle Aterika'Kaals domain is (Austin did say it was an actual place somewhere), and the rest of the Blackwick Group is left to wonder what the hell happened since Lyke just vanished! Alaway has possibly fucked off too after losing the heart. And them getting fired, the Carnival of Moted Light etc. would still happen (and I guess Chine would succeed at what they were doing since Lyke isn’t there?) and who knows if they’d take any action in finding Lyke after that! All that aside though, Lyke basically offers himself to feed on (through blood and/or energy) and to sustain that he keeps consuming(not literally eating) powerful objects/artifacts/resources and possibly eventually living things (I’d imagine he'd still take work as a „please deal with this weird shit for us“ person and when he has to kill a cursed beast or whatnot... might aswell feed Aterika'Kaal?) (What also plays into that decision, and is part of Lyke justifying this to himself, is that without him, Aterika’Kaal would become too powerful. So he aims to function as kind of a conduit & control the power intake so to speak. I think this probably doesn’t work for very long.) I think this eventually goes bad for him because it’s super taxing on his body and the whole deal kind of flips with Aterika’Kaal feeding/keeping HIM alive. He starts finding bodies in the domain again (alternatively, Aterika'Kaal gets better at hiding them because it knows Lyke doesn't particulary like it when it does that). Lyke probably gets stronger due to this power/magic wise, but also way more fragile (he's constantly anemic!). („I love you. I want us both to eat well.“ - Christopher Citro) („When I write of hunger I am really writing about love and the hunger for it, and warmth and the love of it and it is all one.“ M.K. Fisher) Notes: I put some resources Lyke’s canonically had in-game + some extra stuff in this picture (the arrow is a reference to Marn’s epilogue, the bugs are bugs (with possibly sinister connotations. If you want them to have those, it’s optional) and the fur is from the Ravening Beast). Another detail I came up with I might aswell tell you because otherwise noone might ever know: the ring with the blue stone is a gift from Es. Sketch Notes: 1. Lyke turning his head to kiss a rose / exposing his neck was one of my very first ideas/sketches I made while working on this, and I liked it too much to not include it. 2. This is supposed to be Aterika'Kaal giving Lyke a blood transfusion but it rather looks like it's feeding on him instead...! I like how the relaxed pose turned out. 3. I wanted to draw something smaller in a simpler style to fill the big canvas I was drawing these on (even though now I put them in separate files anyways...). The day I drew this I saw a tweet about a medieval monks sketchbook, so I was still thinking about that. I didn't even plan to color it originally but I ended up getting invested, haha

Inspired mainly by these 3 quotes: „KEITH: I’m a walking- I am a shrine to Aterika’Kaal.“ (Sangfielle 12: The Secret Ledger of Roseroot Hall Pt. 4) „KEITH: There's a version of dealing with Aterika'Kaal that ends with Lyke being satisfied that he rehabilitated a god or at least it looks […] like what he thinks Aterika'Kaal would have been before the YVEs showed up. That's probably his main retirement path, but it also might kill him instead.” (Sangfielle 47: Wax, Iron, and Ichor Pt. 4) „AUSTIN: As you’re fading, the last thing that you do is make this blood sacrifice to Aterika’Kaal. Your own blood.“ (Sangfielle 52: Six Travelers: Lyke)

DOCTOBER '23 ⸺ 「 7 / 31 * FAMILY 」

December 31, 1999

23:46

❝Hey Doc, I just wanted to say thanks again for inviting us over. You know, the twins, they really look up to Jules and Verne❞—both Emmett and Marty glance over to the living room floor, where Verne is sprawled out on his chest besides two young, bright blue-eyed children, playing with souped up toy cars on a holographic course that Verne manipulates at will—❝and Jen really loves Clara and—❞

Ellie's car has just crashed into the wall of the bank and Verne makes dramatic explosion noises, earning a series of uncontrollable giggles from the three year old who leaves the car half-phased through the wall. Curie—the longhaired collie—perks her head up from where she was slumbering on the couch and immediately hops down, padding over to where Verne and the children are laying.

Verne sputters when Curie sits down on top of a section of his holographic city. Some of the buildings disappear in her thick fur, only for a few rooftops and spires to protrude from her back instead. She wags her tail and it's young Emmett's turn now to be delighted by the sight of the dog as she cleaves fake buildings in two with her tail.

Emmett silences Marty with a hand on his shoulder and a warm smile. ❝You're family, Marty. You, Jennifer, and young Ellie and Emmett. Besides, you only get to see something like this once! We're welcoming a brand new millennium and there's nobody in the universe I would rather usher it in with.❞

Despite the obvious lie coming from the father of time—the inventor of time travel; even Jules momentarily paused in his channel surfing to throw a look over his shoulder at his father—himself, Marty only raises a brow before breaking out into a wide grin. They could watch the clock tick down to the year two thousand as many times as they wanted from anywhere in the world with the time vehicles, but this was the real deal.

The first time. No universe ending paradoxes waiting to ruin the celebrations, no 'let's compare the various new years' traditions', no extenuating circumstances.

Just them, the people most important in their lives, and a countdown that, for once, designates unbridled hope. The future.

We've made it. And though the temptation is still there to check, to make sure Marty's future continues on the bright path it has been since he finally listened and avoided that devastating accident, Emmett has managed to restrain himself thusfar to allow everything to happen in real-time around him.

❝I almost can't believe it, you know?❞ Marty says, and Emmett nods once, slowly, unable to stop the memories from flooding back. ❝That we've actually made it, and—❞

❝Emmett, dear.❞ Clara's voice rings out from the adjoining kitchen, stopping Marty's thoughts in his tracks. ❝There's only seven minutes to the new year; can you go grab the bag that I left on the counter? The camera should be there too! Marty❞—Clara finally emerges from the kitchen with Jennifer in tow, who is balancing a very large sheet cake in her arms—❝be a dear and clear away the rest of the snacks from the table, would you?❞

Both men nod in acceptance of their respective duties and Emmett pecks Clara on the cheek as he disappears into the kitchen. The bag is exactly where she said it would be and curiosity eats away at him; his beloved wife had clearly planned something else for the evening without his knowledge and he considers peering in at risk of ruining the surprise she'd clearly put a lot of thought and effort into.

The new year will be here in—he checks the wall of clocks, ticking rhythmically in perfect synchronisation—five minutes. He can wait that long.

Everyone is gathered around the table, staring at the cake proudly displayed on the table, where a big blue '2000' is written on top, next to the words, Happy New Year! Jen and Clara are a few steps away from them, looking incredibly pleased with their work, and Clara's eyes light up as Emmett places the bag gently in her hand, then joins the others around the table to look at the cake.

In the background, some announcer's voice drones on about there being five minutes left until the new year while footage of the clock tower and a gaggle of people are projected on-screen.

Clara pulls a small golden hat out of the bag for herself with the year written on the front in sparkling silver font, then hands a matching one to Jen, who immediately puts it on. For most of the boys, Clara produces a garish pair of sunglasses from the bag shaped like '2000' in various colours.

Verne makes a face but slips them on anyway, and both Emmett and Marty hold them up to inspect them as if they're suddenly about to explode in their hands in a shower of sparks.

❝Mother,❞ Jules starts, ❝you really didn't have to do this...❞

❝I know we have the time machines, but it's not every day you live the course of your natural life through the turn of a brand new millennium, so I wanted to celebrate. You only have to wear them for the photo, Jules, and you can take them off if you want.❞

Verne grins and throws an arm around Jules' shoulders. ❝Yeah, come on. They might actually make you look better.❞

Emmett slips on his blue glasses with a shrug and then holds his arms out to Marty, as if to ask how do I look? Marty laughs and shakes his head but follows suit, and there's a comment somewhere about how cute they both look, but neither of them are sure if the comment came from Jen or Clara, so in the moment, they decide they said it in unison.

❝Verne, honey, put this on Curie, would you?❞ Clara hands him a colourful bandanna adorned with confetti spirals. ❝And everyone line up. I'll get some of the clocks in the picture so we have the time and—Emmett, you're sure this timer feature will work?❞

❝Positive, dear. I tested it myself.❞

There's less than a minute left on the countdown by the time Clara sets up the camera and hurries over for the photo, taking her place at Emmett's side.

The flash goes off at exactly midnight and as the two couples share a quick kiss, both Jules and Verne make obnoxious gagging noises while the McFly twins stare longingly at the cake on the table.

A chorus of happy new years ring out among the families and as Marty pulls Emmett in for a hug, ❝Happy New Year, Doc,❞ somebody announces that cake is being served.

Emmett pats him twice on the back, smiling. ❝Here's to the future. Now, let's get some of that cake, shall we?❞

💀

im GOING to write today ........ i WILL !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Quick thing to prove I'm alive! I technically have more stuff, but I've been very distracted, and I don't feel like typing up all the descriptions at the moment, and I also don't know how much of it I want to post. Eventually! When I'm paying attention!

hhh i've had like. no drive to work on any art or writing projects. ;n; my heart is still so invested in the stories and characters I've created, but the motivation to take those feelings and put it into some form of content is next to nil. i don't know why it's been like that but it's kinda sad :c

don't get me wrong - i'm happy with most of the things i've created lately, but it's also been this strange game of doubt and comparison going on in my head when it comes to actually sharing what I make. there are a lot of pieces of art and writing that i just haven't posted because i feel like it's not in a place where it's good enough for anyone other than myself. the idea of editing and actually finishing some projects so that i can make sense of them online is overwhelming even tho i would love to just... get some of those ideas out for anyone who might be interested in hearing about them, you know?

anyway. probably just need to let myself take some kind of break?? idk what that would really entail at this point tho. it's just been a weird mental state that I need to work out i guess.

WIP Wednesday

So okay I don't know if this is like...a cool thing to do or not, but there's a fic I claimed from the 2022 kink meme list (I couldn't resist, in large part because Tales From Jianghu Shopping Center was listed by the prompter as one of their inspirations for the prompt) that I'm not sure when I'll actually finish writing but I have started it and I'd like to at least acknowledge that I'm doing it even if the prompter won't see this. But the prompt is something along the lines of anything highly specific and niche (like my strip mall AU lol), and I actually happen to have a growing little stockpile of very very niche knowledge about my chosen professional field, which is ceramics! I specialize in wheel-throwing (though I'm also a...passable hand at plaster mold-making/slip casting and handbuilding, I just don't enjoy them nearly as much) so I've started a little something from Lan Wangji's point of view that's a love letter to throwing ♥

--//--

As is tradition, Lan Wangji works in porcelain.

The Lan family have been respected masters of porcelain for centuries, generations stretching back, back, back nearly to the beginning of the imperial kiln production in Jingdezhen. They once produced the enormous pots that adorned emperors’ palaces – there are (very distant) cousins of his in Jingdezhen who still do so for wealthy patrons.

It’s easy to forget such a background when he enters his personal studio on the other side of the world and flicks on the lights to begin the day’s routines. It’s precisely what he wants – a quiet life like this, simple and unassuming, is much more suited to his desire than the weight of tradition that could otherwise press him and his work down into something he would never want to be.

Not that he deviates very far from tradition anyway, but it’s the principle of the thing. Lan Wangji takes quiet pleasure in simplicity, in function that is beautiful in its hard-won mastery. There are very few non-traditional ways to accomplish this that he’s interested in, but he likes having the option should he want to take it. 

Lan Wangji had learned to throw at his uncle’s knee as soon as it was possible to do so. He has continued to do so since childhood with a single-mindedness that once surprised even his uncle. All he’d ever wanted to do was to sit at the wheel for hours and hours on end, only pausing to warm the water in his bowl with a fresh influx from the kettle and to transfer full wareboards (once he was strong enough) to the drying racks in the corner of his uncle’s studio.

Lan Wangji has always struggled to find the words to convey how integral the motion of the wheel and the smooth slip of clay through his finger and against his palms is to feeling like he fits into his skin properly, but his family seems to understand just the same.

Yesterday, as the sun was westering, Lan Wangji had weighed up a few bags of fresh porcelain. The lumps are waiting for him now, tumbled together under their protective sheets of plastic, ready to be molded and shaped by hands and hypnotic motion. There’s enough of a chill in the studio this time of year that there isn’t any condensation on the plastic when he lifts it, so he folds it away neatly and settles into the easy rhythm of wedging his clay to prepare it for the wheel.

There is, in the middle of the studio, a sturdy butcher’s block workbench. He built it himself right there in the studio, the first piece of furniture that had filled the space even before he’d purchased his Shimpo wheel. It’s very likely too heavy to lift – it’s certainly too big to ever get through the door – but he has no intention of ever leaving this studio to begin another, so it suits his purposes just fine.

Wedging the clay on this sturdy, hip-height table is nearly as meditative a process as all the rest of it. A bit more of a workout than sitting at the wheel, but it’s a good way to warm up in the morning, his muscles well accustomed to the push-turn-push-turn-push-turn of spiral wedging that it’s gone beyond second nature, it simply is. His mind wanders pleasantly as he watches the misshapen lumps of pure porcelain become smooth and rounded beneath his palms. Perhaps he’ll spend the day on bowls. They’re quick and simple, suited to his mood today, and he’ll have plenty of them done by lunch when he already knows his typical solitary routine will be interrupted (and can therefore plan for it so far in advance). 

The sun is up properly by the time Lan Wangji finishes his wedging, and once he’s transferred the first batch of prepared clay to the wheel he pauses to stand in the open doorway and look out over the garden that sits between his studio and his home. The grass and the flowers are glittering fresh and dewy in the sunlight as he rolls his shoulders, stretches out his back in preparation to be seated for long hours.

When he returns, the wheel welcomes him, familiar and comforting. He fills an old bird seed bucket with warm water from the tap and arranges the small mirror at the back of the wheel’s tray to the perfect angle to watch his own hands before he settles in and takes a deep breath, sleeves rolled up and apron cinched comfortably tight around his waist as an unnecessary reminder to keep his back as straight as he can while he works.

The first ball of porcelain hits the perfect bullseye of the wheelhead and Lan Wangji leans in to begin centering, the porcelain buttery soft where it runs under his hands. Porcelain, he knows, is notorious for being difficult to work with, particularly for beginners. This far into his career, it’s simply polite and responsive to each confident press of his palms. He cones it first, hands curled around it to coax it in and up; presses it down again with the flat of his hand, every movement focused on the centerpoint of the wheel gliding silently through magnet-powered rotations. 

Up. 

Down again. 

Up.

Down.

Push.

Press.

Lan Wangji loves every part of the throwing process for what it is, but if he were to have to choose only one, this would be his favorite: the moment he can feel the clay running smoothly, perfectly centered the whole way through and ready to become whatever he will tell it to be, the possibilities – for this moment – endless.

Scheming…

@indorilnerevarine asked: 💕 + viktor and ness

if anyone was wondering (they weren't /lh) why ive been kind of absent recently is because i am working on SO MANY THINGS. like an astronomical amount of things

For my beyond evil prompt post! thanks @tiffanylamps for the inspiration!!

It's not like he wants to be here, if Joo Won had an actual choice he would be at his apartment, cooking the new recipe he discovered while listening to music before settling down for the night to read his book.

But Kwon Hyuk was getting married and as much as Joo Won hates his father, he cares triple that for his adoptive brother....most days.

Joo Won sighs again as he pulls gently on his tie, it feels tight and suffocating around his throat. The whole outfit makes him uncomfortable now, they used to fit like a glove but he gave up suits and tuxedos and a manicured life years ago.

He's watching Kwon Hyuk dance with his bride, Oh Ji Hwa who looks stunning in a simple white dress and something inside of him squeezes in equal parts envy and happiness for his brother. Hyuk couldn't have chosen a better bride (despite his fathers complaints about it) she was strong, fierce, and patient and has had her now husband wrapped around her finger since day one.

She's good for him, makes Hyuk stand up for himself more and start demanding more control over his father's company, helps his adopted brother balance the expectations and the reality of what it means to take over a company. Plus Joo Won thinks that Han Ki Kwan might be a little afraid of her, which makes her almost perfect in his book.

Joo Won takes a sip of his drink, looking down at his watch and sighing when he realizes it's still too early to leave without being extremely rude. The chandelier in the banquet hall feels too bright and the sounds are spread out but loud and chaotic-- people talking, others laughing, music blaring and it's all too much for Joo Won's brain at the moment.

He swallows the last bit of his drink before standing, grabbing another full one and making his way to one of the small balconies on the other side of the room.

The fresh, cool air feels like a gift and he finally allows himself to loosen his tie.

He's taking another sip of his drink when the door pushes open and he looks over to see a familiar mess of curls, the sigh that leaves his lips in almost involuntary at this point.

Dong Sik glances up at the noise before his whole face alights, "Joo Won- ah! There you are!"

Joo Won scrunches his nose up at the familiarity, "Lee Dong Sik-ssi, i've told you to stop being so informal with me."

The smile only grows at his words and the older man comes to stand next to him, only a few inches apart and Joo Won can't bring himself to put distance between them. There's alot of things he can't seem to do around the older man.

"You're late."

He says it to fill the silence, watching as the older man seems surprised but then a soft smile appears on his face. Joo Won hates when Dong Sik uses those looks around him... they make him feel things he's unfamiliar with.

Dong Sik's shoulder brushes his and Joo Won's whole body responds, like it always does. The tingle shooting from his arm all the way down to his toes.

"Hmm... did you miss me, Joo Won-ah?"

It's said so softly, so sincerely and Joo Won inhales sharply, turning to grab the older man by his tie and yank him in for a hard, burning kiss. Dong Sik seems shocked for a half second before leaning in, resting his hands on Joo Won's hips in a way that pins him to the spot but soft enough for him to break free. Dong Sik always leaves him an out.

He shoves his fingers into Dong Sik's hair, the softness on his finger tips making his chest ache with need and the older man lets out a breathy moan as their mouths pull apart slightly.

They are both breathing heavily, the taste of Dong Sik still on his lips as the older man's breath fans across his mouth and Joo Won's heart lurches at the intimacy of it all.

He loves this stupid old fool so much, probably has since the day he met Ji Hwa and her friends. Joo Won can remember being equally interested and annoyed with the loud older man, who smiled and laughed like the entire world and it's problems meant nothing-- a complete contrast to the recently disowned Joo Won.

Joo Won takes a deep breath, scared of what he was going to say next but also certain in his actions. He looks up at the older man and breathes out a soft, almost strangled, "Yes."

Dong Sik blinks at him in confusion, "What?"

Joo Won feels the blush on his face, feels his ears burning hot but he leans back in and softly kisses Dong Sik's lips again before pulling back and speaking louder, "Yes... to the question you asked me a while ago."

Dong Sik still looks confused before it suddenly dawns on him, and Joo Won isn't prepared for the way Dong Sik lurches forward and captures his lips into a searing kiss. It's hot and molten, making his insides feel hot and when the older man's tongue licks into his mouth deeper Joo Won feels his legs shake. Dong Sik's hands are tight against his hips and Joo Won gasps when the older man bites his bottom lip before pulling away.

He can't imagine what he must look like right now but Dong Sik's lips are swollen and red, his eyes blown wide but are still bright with happiness, "Yes. You are finally going to date me?"

Joo Won snorts, leaning his forehead on Dong Sik's shoulder, "I think we've been dating for a while now."

He feels Dong Sik's head shake and he already knows what the man is going to say, "Nope, the stubborn prince I'm in love with refused to make it official."

Joo Won feels a little guilt rise in his belly but he ignores it in favor of the way the older man said 'love' and the hand Dong Sik has rubbing up and down his back, "Well, he sounds like an idiot."

Dong Sik laughs out loud, the noise sending tingles down Joo Won's back and he smiles into his lovers neck. The older man hums, "No, he was never an idiot. My prince was just hurt and needed some time to recover."

Joo Won blinks back tears and straightens back to his full height, looking down at Dong Sik and into his eyes, "Lee Dong Sik-ssi. Would you please date me?"

Dong Sik smiles and kisses him gently, "Yes. Of course, my stubborn prince."

mspaint sketches to narrowly avert image poisoning