#I love these disaster humans so much

[smcganns]

[autitello]

Human Donnie!

please ask to repost but reblogs are welcome!

this is my first attempt at digital art be kind ;-;

drawn over a scene from the show!

[iinsomaniac]

i love how everyone has their badass superhero uniforms and then there’s bucky who really woke up, put on a leather jacket, and called it a day

[vegaseatsass]

NONJINPHEE NATION, RISE!!

[paperfen]

Spoilers for BNHA chapter 423; you know where this is going.

SHIGARAKI KINNIES HOW WE FEELING TONIGHT???? CAUSE I AM NOT FEELING GOOD!!!! in all seriousness, I could barely finish this sketch because I was crying so hard. Horikoshi when I catch you istg. I'm not even gonna entertain the idea that he's still alive somehow until that's confirmed because I refuse to give myself false hope. But this is not how I wanted this to end. Shigaraki deserves to have the life that was literally stolen away from him from day fucking 1. Yes, killing AFO was cathartic as HELL, and seeing kurogiri/shirakumo reach out to save his son absolutely broke me, but what happens to all of the build-up with Shigaraki's story? the rest of the league's trauma, the issues they genuinely faced within this hero society? where is all that going? down the drain ig. seems like such a fuckin waste of a story but alright. this could have been about deku becoming the greatest hero by saving and reforming the villains who were abused and tortured but ALRIGHT. also, a two page send off? be fr what the fuck. Rest easy, king. You deserved so much better. Or come back to us because that'll turn this car around so fast we might hit mach speed.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Wait holdup what’s this about Howdy’s shop burning down and nearly taking him with it?? (talking about human au)

oh yeah lmfao it caught fire

it wasn't like... foul play or anything. in my mind it was some sort of electrical failure or bizarre accident. like a lightning strike! actually wait i like that lightning strike idea bc then it could be Raining for this very dramatic scene and i do love me some rain juxtaposing fire <3

and Howdy would've been fine! he got all of his employees and customers out of the building, including himself. he handed them off to Barnaby & Wally, who had been swinging by for dinner with fantastic timing (the fire department was just then arriving). then, like an idiot, Howdy went right back inside the Very On Fire building!

bc, ok, he lives in his store. specifically, above it. the ground floor is the store, then there's a staircase going up to an apartment. and naturally, Howdy was not gonna abandon all of his / the store's legal documents (also his coupon stash) to burn.

so in his mind he was like "yeah ill just pop in, grab these very important files, and then get out. easy!". babe, you're giving Barnaby & Wally a heart attack. that's what you're doing. dumbass (affectionate)

but yeah he's in there, in the burning building, smoke everywhere. meanwhile outside firefighters (and Wally) have to physically hold Barnaby back from going in after Howdy, even though a few more firefighters already went in to find him. its all very dramatic! blah blah blah the front door becomes unusable, blah blah blah the apartment windows explode due to thermal stress & also bc i want them to, etc etc

long story short the firefighters get Howdy out through the back, and mostly unscathed at that! ofc smoke inhalation is a thing, he's got some minor cuts and burns, but it's really not that bad! lucky bastard! he gets taken to the hospital to get treated & make sure he's fine, and he is.

naturally he stays with Barnaby & Wally for a while. he doesn't have a say in the matter lol he was planning on getting a motel room or somethin, but Barnaby picked him up from the hospital, took him home, and went "alright the guest room is ready for you we can go shopping tomorrow for anything you need, you live here now". good thing Howdy rescued his coupons!

the fire damage to the building is, thankfully, mostly cosmetic. it takes a while to clean & fix it, but Howdy has great friends and a wonderful community to help out! everyone chips in, some fundraisers happen, Wally sells some Darling™️ Exclusives™️, etc. long story short they get the store back up & running, and with some new bells and whistles to go with it!

[revasserium]

I'm being a rebel and requesting Ikesen Masamune and barefoot 💜

send me one and a character u__u

hurricane (prompt: barefoot)

masamune; 1,813; fluff and... that's it; @violettduchess is quite possibly one of the only ppl who can get me to write for a fandom that i had no plans in joining BUT HERE I AM FOLKS. here the fuCK i am.

he has always been a hurricane.

there are moments in a person’s life big enough for a single choice to put them on a completely different path, and then — there are those moments, much smaller moments, adding up to that one, bigger, monumental, life-changing moment. this is one of the latter.

the moon is heaven bright, swinging low in a full-bellied sky, and insomnia had plagued you till you’d come into the inner gardens for refuge. at least here, it felt like you were stuck between the pages of a waking dream. so… sleep-adjacent, right? right.

you swing your feet off the edge of the pristinely mopped wooden walkways, your sketchbook propped in your lap, a charcoal pencil gliding over the smooth, moon-bleached pages. you let your hand take the drawing where it wants, and these days, there’s only one place that your hand (and, subsequently the rest of your mind and body) seems to want to go.

masamune.

he appears as fish-tail flicks of your wrist bring him to life on the pages, each sketch fluid and overlapping with the next, almost like the depiction of dance — the crinkle at the edge of his eye, the curve of his hand as he rests it on the hilt of one of his blades, the strong, graceful slope of his shoulders and back, the crescent moon curve of his lips as he smiles, ever light, ever teasing, in your direction.

“ah… is that what i look like?”

his voice makes you jump, and even now after all this time, it sets your heart racing in your chest as you whirl around to find his nose inches from yours, that self-same smile hinged across his damnably gorgeous lips.

“w-wh — why aren’t you sleeping?” is your stumbling, cobbled together response to being jump-scared in the middle of his castle pagoda, but it’s the best you could come up with. he only leans back, chuckling, his arms tucked into the long thin sleeves of his kosode as he casts his eye up towards the full moon, his expression for once devoid if mischief or calculation. it’s strange, seeing him like this, so still and so quiet, and something about it makes you go still too, wondering if this is what its like to be caught in the eye of the storm, where the quiet is only ever momentary and destruction dances just beyond where your mind can reach.

“i could ask the same of you, kitten. so tell me… why aren’t you sleeping?” he grins as he joins you, propping one arm on a bent knee, watching as you gather yourself, palms pressing to the pages of your sketchbook.

“i… i couldn’t sleep.” you look down at your own knees, and it strikes you then that your feet are still bare. you can’t help glancing at masamune, and sure enough, his feet are bare too. no wonder i hadn’t heard him coming.

but something about this sets you off, the sight of his bare feet next to yours, and even though it shouldn’t be so tantalizing a thing — the flicker of bare flesh, the hint of skin unseen— you feel like one of those ancient victorian maidens, blushing at the sight of bare ankles.

you can’t help it; you start to laugh.

and masamune, sitting beside you, finds himself transfixed, held still by the sound of your laughter, pouring from you like rainwater from a stream. so clear and beautiful it sets his body arrack with shivers.

“what?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow, “is there something on my face?”

at this, you pause, stifling your giggles with a hand pressed to your lips, and you look at him. your eyes meet, and not for the first time, you feel yourself falling into them — into him. even like this, his one blue eye is something of a miracle, a thing of celestial majesty. it wasn’t until you’d met him that you’d realized what blue eyes look like up close — up close, they are the shattered light of a millions stars, fractured and reformed and singing through a universe of endless dark to end up here, shining out from him and landing on you, and god — he’s looking at you like all those million, billion years of starlight had traveled the expanse of every galaxy just to look at you.

just to see you like he does now.

“no… there isn’t,” you say, whisper, more like, reaching out a hand to trace your thumb over the lid of his closed eye. he doesn’t push you away. instead, he leans in closer.

“then, what’s so funny, kitten?”

you simply shake your head, trying to swallow down your belly-full of laughter, your mind showing you a strobe-quick flash-forward of you trying to explain the concept of foot kinks and websites that cater to such 500 years in the future before deciding — no. alas, tonight is not the night you try to educate one date masamune on the intricacies of body part kinks. though no doubt he’d take it in stride. no — that thought too, you tamp down before you’ve the mind to follow it down into a deep, dark rabbit hole from whence you might never recover or be recovered.

“tell me, please…” he grins, a grin that is simultaneously plea and pleasure, and in it, you can hear the knife-sharp promise of desire, “i’d like to know if something other than me has the power to make you laugh so much.”

“it’s just —” you bite your lips, fighting for the words, “we’re both barefoot.”

he blinks. and you can tell that whatever he was expecting the answer to be, this is clearly not it.

you track the flitter of emotions as they dance in quicksilver steps across the planes of his face — surprise, confusion, amusement, all painted porcelain perfect on the dark of his brows, the faint twitch of his lips. finally, he settles on a sorted of muted bemusement as he cocks his head at you.

“and… do people of your time tend to sleep with socks on?”

“no, it’s just…” you blush again, unable to help yourself.

“just what?” his voice is light, and he is still.

you swallow, hard,

“just… it’s weird — i mean — it’s not like i haven’t seen anyone else barefoot before just… this was — you’re just — and i —” you trip over your words in a hurry and end up tumbling through into incoherence so fast all you can do to styme the flood is to clamp your mouth shut and pray.

oh god please… tell me this is a bad dream.

but when you open your eyes, masamune is still there, watching you with that singular eye of his, expression inscrutable. and still, he doesn’t move.

“so…” and finally, finally, the stillness breaks — he cracks it open like an eggshell, stretching himself out as he leans back, propping himself up on his elbows, lengthening till he’s splayed out over the gleaming wooden boards of the walkway, his face bathed in ghostly moonlight.

“i’m not the first man you’ve seen barefoot, hm? that is a problem.”

your mouth drops open and for a moment, you gape at him wordless and fish-like, and he laughs as he turns to look at you.

“tell me his name — i’ll have his head in the morning,” he says, in a voice so casually serious that for a moment you think he might actually mean it.

“masamune!”

and then, he’s laughing too, a big, bright, uproarious thing that shakes his entire body like the foundations of the earth. it is deep and rich and lovely, warm and sweet as sun-kissed honey. you let yourself be swept up in his laughter, dropping into silent giggles, and then something louder, letting your shoulder bump into his, your bodies finally touching and then —

there’s a flurry of clothing, a shifting of weights. you find yourself pulled into him, tipping towards him like inevitability.

your sketchbook lays forgotten on the walkway next to you as masamune holds you close against his chest.

“ah… i really don’t like that…”

an entourage of tingles frissons through your body at his words.

“don’t like what?”

“the fact that you’ve seen someone else barefoot before. it bugs me.”

you peer up at him, lifting your head ever so slightly from his chest. he’s looking at you, and the sunrise-blue of his eyes are shadowed with something darker now, something decidedly less innocent than just the thought of bare feet.

“then… what will you do about it?” you ask, feeling the heat of his body, the solidness of him, the rightness of you between his arms.

“hm… are you teasing me, kitten?” his voice is gravel and earthquake and you’re emboldened by the sound, by the way his pupil dilates, the black hole at the center of every galaxy — gravity made solid, made real.

“yes,” you breathe, leaning up like a dare and he meets you gloriously, his lips hard and pressing and soft and pulling. there’s a fire unspooling at the base of your spine, stoked by the heat and truth of him, so close, too close — you break apart gasping. he grins, lynx-like and wolfish as he grazes his teeth along the column of your throat.

“good,” he says, sighing into your flesh as you arch up into him, your fingers curling into his hair as he flips the pair of you over. he pulls you beneath him and he is storm and thunder, he is rain and wonder — he is water to your desert skies, the sunlit days to all your moonless nights.

and as he makes to rend you into pleasure, into nothing more than ache and belonging, he pulls back with a bone-deep growl, a sliver of hesitation, of self-preservation.

“are… are you sure you want this?” that you want me? the echo is not lost on you.

and it’s not the first time he’s asked you the question, and you have a feeling that it wouldn’t be the last. but you reply as you had, once upon a time, in a distant, sun-drenched afternoon, when you’d been telling him about one of your favorite poems from your time.

you smile, tug him down for a kiss.

“yes,” you say, like you’d done on that long-ago afternoon, “i want you — i want this, masamune. because… I love you.”

“i will love you when you are a still day… i will love you when you are a hurricane.”

[layzeal]

idk how to explain it really well, but what makes me obsessed with teenji and generally what sets apart lan wangji from the usual cold, stoic and inexpressive hot character is the reveal, early on, that he is just a little guy

[chaotic-history]

Why Is He Like This

[mister-eames]

1/? If you wrote a thesis on Arthur and Eames I would literally carry it around in my pocket & read it daily, so I’m begging you!! Please don’t spare your 5k essay on why you think Arthur thinks he doesn’t have a chance with Eames!! I Wanna know your thoughts on this!! Because I think it’s a combination of elements. Firstly I think initially Arthur truly believes Eames doesn’t like him. They’re too different. Arthur is everything Eames isn’t & vice versa. & even tho the saying goes “opposites

2/? attract”.. sometimes you just clash & that’s that.. I think at first he also mistakes Eames playfulness, his snark, quips & attempts at riling Arthur up as genuine condescension & disdain. I also read once in a fic where Arthur made a comment about how nobody likes the pointman cos at the end of the day it’s his job to pick apart everybody else’s work & point out the weaknesses. So the idea that a guy like Eames, who as a forger has one of the most creative/artistic roles in dreamshare. --- 3/3 would be interested in a guy whose role often involves probably telling people to tone it down... yeah. Not gonna happen. & then I think there’s that fear of mixing business with pleasure. The idea of ruining such a great working partnership by bringing something as messy as FEELINGS into it? I think that’s something that would make Arthur not even entertain the idea of ever having anything more with Eames because how could he ever risk losing Eames as a work partner?

---

Aha, are you ready? Obvs these are all just my headcanons, and that the beauty of inception is that the characters can be who we want them to be, all interpretations are valid, etc etc...

So, with Arthur and why I think he thinks doesn't have a chance with Eames. You're right that it's a combination of elements:

I think, at his core, Arthur like, all of us, carries some kind of emotional bruising when it comes to loving and being loved. And like, all of us, Arthur does not think he's perfect. He has self-perceived flaws. Every single one of us, as human beings, has insecurities - even Arthur. I think he uses all of the surface, logical, 'rational' arguments like not wanting to mix business and pleasure to justify not actually addressing these hurts and insecurities.

You know my personal headcanon for Arthur, generally speaking canonically, is that he did not come from money. He grew up poor with a parent that wasn't, say, well enough to be there for him the way a child would need. That he was the caretaker in the household most of the time.

And, bear with me here, on Arthur caring about his looks - Arthur is buttoned up to all hell not because of vanity, but because of how he will be perceived--- he wears his suits less like armour and more like a weapon. Arthur, to me, is scrappy, not defensive.

But despite how he presents himself, deep down Arthur still is that fourteen year old version of himself, the one that lashed out everyone Eventually, he learned to control that anger, the one that showed everyone else where he was wounded -- but he never addressed the ways he was hurt, or the parts of him that has always been deeply lonely. As an adult he isn't keen on loving anyone else because it's always been a one-way transaction. He does not know how to interpret loving someone and being loved in return. For him, what does that even look like? Arthur doesn't want to love anyone because he's never received the same output of love he gives out. And maybe he thinks something is wrong with him, for feeling affection the way he does and never truly getting it back in kind - platonic, familial or romantic.

So he wears his weaponry to keep people from getting too close to touch, figuratively speaking. And maybe Eames takes him on face value for a beat too long.

While I don't really consider Arthur and Eames to be opposites, I do think they are flip sides of the same coin. They share a basic foundation, beliefs, ethics - but can also clash where they combine. It's like when you just... get someone on a basic level, like you share a frequency without needing years of getting to know them. Like when you meet someone and you just know you must have known each other in a past life. Arthur thinks that this weird, antagonistic thing he has with Eames is something different, isn't it? Except, it isn't. It's just love, baby.

Arthur feels it, with Eames. That 'something'. Over time it develops into a feeling that is both thrum and quiet. Like his whole body is vibrating but also completely still just by being near him, thinking about him.

But, at least initially, Arthur is just too... wary to place his money on it, that feeling. It's never provided dividends before.

Which isn't to say that Eames is the one to show Arthur he is 'worth loving', or anything like that. I believe that Arthur comes to that realisation all by himself - realistically, they're both still young and young enough to be insecure at the time of the film. Late 20's, 30s? Babies, in the grand scheme of adulthood. They are only just consolidating out who they are, really. But Arthur, at some point, realizes its okay to put his sword down and be loved in a different way from those who'd said they'd loved him before. To have someone take care of him, to run point for him. He gets better at reading love languages.

And I think, to address Arthurs own insecurities -- we all also have that kind of rose-tinted view of the ones we love while thinking we are plain and unremarkable - we look at them and go fuck, you are amazing, you are incredible, you can do anything and you don't even know it, how do you not know how powerful you are?? --- that's part of it too. Maybe he looks at Eames, Cobb and Mal and thinks just that. Maybe he wonders in what world would Eames ever look at him the same way? Maybe he does underestimate his own power and he takes it all too seriously and to heart when he's not perfect. Maybe he can't look past his own fuck ups in life and in work that it truly clouds his perception of himself and his compatibility with others.

That, I think, are the basic fears Arthur has. It's like inception, right, these 'simplest version of ideas' manifest in more convoluted ones. Those fears get translated and articulated into very simple 'reasonable' arguments he hoodwinks himself with so he never has to face his own vulnerability: it would never work out. I don't like the way he does x, y, z. He is so annoying. He doesn't even like me like that. It'd be bad for business. It's not worth the risk. We're here to work.

So I think Arthur leaves his attraction to Eames like a mailbox slowly accumulating with more and more junk mail. He'll clean it out some day, pushed aside in his own mind, left unattended by him for a long time without realizing the pile is growing. On this, some of my fave fics are the ones where Arthur has this sort of... comically misbehaving subconscious because of his ignored affection for Eames. The ones where there are errant projections who fawn over Eames, or the ones where his subconscious is literally incapable of hurting him. I think Arthur is not.. repressed... as an individual, but the feelings he has for Eames are so large and encompassing and that he's tried to fit it into too small of a box, and that box is spilling out at the sides. What he feels cannot be contained or disposed of. He would be that kind of hot mess.

But, Arthur, you darling fool. The feeling is mutual.

[lyricalchrysanthemum]

Didn't you know? Our champion is favored by Arceus.

[intcthatgoodnight]

I'm going to be adding some muses from AMC's I.ntervew with the V.ampire: Louis, Lestat, Claudia, Daniel, and Armand. These will be selective test muses for now. I might want to plot a little before writing, maybe not, it depends. Really I'm just dipping my toe into the water to test these muses before fully adding them to the muse list. They will be based on the AMC series with slight book influence. I haven't read the books yet (I definitely plan on it, it have the first three already I just need to finally read them) but I know some of the lore.

If you're interested in writing with any of these muses just let me know!

[nandermoenthusiast]

guys i have been in a state for days. i am giddy i am gasping for air i am broken inside i am blushing i am sweating i am twirling my hair i am suffering i dont know how to deal with the very real possibility that nandor has loved guillermo for years and has been restraining himself, feigning aloofness, keeping his distance, because all these years he understood that maybe guillermo would never be ready for vampirism - and maybe hes been so depressed in the latest years because hes finally found someone he wants to spend eternity with, and he strongly suspects he will spend eternity missing them instead

[only-one-brain-cell]

Me too Ben

[smile-files]

oh yeah i finally got to the episode of evangelion where kaworu shows up and meets shinji and yeah they weren't lying. those eva boys are gay as hell

[misscammiedawn]

If you had to recommend one activity/interaction for people to have during their playthrough of Disco Elysium, what would it be and why?

I feel like Disco Elysium works best if you roleplay while surrendering your control to the dice and committing to the bit. It's a way to play it and there's no right way to play it, but it helps

My favorite moments in the game are mandatory as part of the story (the rooftop where Volition senses betrayal or the events on the island) or aren't too difficult to get

For instance Harry decided he wanted to do karaoke on my first morning and so I made sure I did karaoke and it was fulfilling!

I hate to be unoriginal and uninspired but the church quest was my favorite in the game even though we're pretty vocal about not liking The Pale

So the benefits of committing to the bit and trusting the dice is that you'll fuck up and just play your Harry based on that fuck up-- luckily your conscience, Kim Kitsuragi, is always there to help you if you feel too bad by being impressionable and letting people talk you down some bad paths

I keep finding new things every time I play the game this way because try as I might, bits of me pour into my characters in immersive RPGs-- I can't play FONV and side with Caesar, I can't do it-- I can't play VtM:B and let Heather Poe die (I mod my game specifically to avoid it, even)

With Disco Elysium failure is built into the mix and to embrace that is to allow yourself to become a unique and inimitable version of Harry rather than let Harry become you

Even then I still mess up-- I have never allowed Harry to abuse drink or drugs in my runs because of my personal hang-ups (an issue I have in FONV too) and I can't do the dialogue options that leads to Harry threatening the union workers by putting a gun in his mouth

I have limits sadly and in a world of options I just can't pick some of them because of who I am, even if I find the writing behind that scene or Kim scaring the racism out of the Icebreaker to be objectively hilarious

To answer the question in full:

Do the payphone, that was likely my favorite optional moment in the game and it stung in a beautiful way

Do the church quest, no matter how difficult it may be

Do karaoke because Harry really wants to do karaoke

Kuno is the best and we love him, but you're a stronger person than we are if you can stomach getting the Kuno ending