#bits and pieces coming to me in a dream

[atieflingbard]

Perhaps, a lifetime ago, we were soulmates. I feel it in my bones, every time I look at you. But my heart longs for another. Imagine my surprise at myself, a bhaalspawn who fell in love— not once, but twice. Everything about the feeling, even now, is so foreign, so wrong. I know it’s not what I was made to be.

Even though I’m not the person I was before I lost my memories, and maybe the passion between us has changed— you cannot deny that I care about you, and for you.

You cannot say that I’ve never done anything for you.

I’ve defied my very reason for existing for you.

[blossoms-phan]

many people are afraid to be real lovers. dan and phil are not

[beanghostprincess]

Actually thinking more about Reiju's only sin being a woman and... Going into more depth, I know that logically/canonically she's smart and empathetic enough to not want to be in her brothers' place. She doesn't want to be an heir/ successor or follow the family's footsteps at all. She knows they're bad. She sees herself as such, too, unable to change/be different like Sanji was. She doesn't think she can bring her mother's kindness to this world the way Sanji does, so she sticks to what she knows, whether it is to protect Sanji too or to accept her fate.

BUT (and bear with me for a second here, I know I have been watching too much Succession lately) we also do know that during her childhood she didn't do anything to help Sanji from the abuse. She watched it happen because that was the way things went there and because she knew what would happen to her if she did. Of course, she ends up helping him escape and taking care of him but-- I'm just thinking, for a tiny little moment, about how she's actually the oldest.

She should be the heir. She should be the person everybody views Ichiji as. She should be considered the most responsible. The smartest. The strongest one. The one who should take the throne. And she doesn't even want it now, but what about back then? What about when she did have some little, tiny faith/hopes for her family and what they did? She sought approval and naively thought "my father is going to offer me the place I rightfully deserve, right?" blindly seeking acceptance like all of them did.

But no, because she might be the oldest but Ichiji is a man. She might be the strongest, the smartest, the most reliable... But she is not a man. And I believe there must have been a time when she expected her destiny to be something more, and once she realized she was just a woman in their eyes... Well, we know what happened.

I just keep finding similarities between The Vinsmokes (OP) and The Roys (Succession) and perhaps my headcanon of Reiju being similar to Shiv has gone a bit too far. But the scene where Shiv is like "This is real?" when Logan promises she'll be the CEO and he goes "This is real. Remember this. The slant of light" for it to be a lie later is something I fear could have happened with Reiju and Judge if Oda had given us more content,,,,

[shiori8]

Di Angelo Siblings

Sooo, to absolutely no one's surprise the new Percy Jackson reboot kicked me into full-blown pjo brainrot mode again lol. I saw these super cute fits and some vintage photos of Venice alleyways floating around on Pinterest and was consumed with the need to draw the Di Angelo siblings in them (it's probably wildly "historically and geographically" inaccurate for them, but we're just going to have to deal with the fact that I'm dumb and uncultured xD It's the vibes™ that count, okay!)

Psst, wanna see something cringe😂? Found this old sketch of them from one of my first forays into digital art years ago:

And to quote past-me "I can barely look at the old one, but at least that means I improved, aye?"😂

[sysig]

Sweet dreams, for a time (Patreon)

[youremyonlyhope]

Weird intense sertraline dreams are super real side effect.

[variousqueerthings]

the fun of having put out the "bj's moustache is gay culture" post while also headcanoning first and foremost that whatever bj is, it's not actually gay but something way funnier and more fucked up

[jamesrodayrodriguezpresents]

James is back in the writer's chair!

All the way back in season 1 of AMLT, James was asked if he was looking to direct an episode. His answer: "This show is not about directing. This show is about capturing moments, truth and performances. It really is an actor’s show and a writer’s show. For me, that means my job is to focus, 100%, on bringing this guy to life, as authentically as possible." So it wasn't surprising that four of his cast mates directed but he didn't.

James instead put his stamp on the show in a different way: he co-wrote the series finale with show crator DJ Nash; episode 5x13: "One Big Thing".

I am more than intrigued, since the show isn't really something I would ever see James writing on. I hope DJ will get him for his podcast to talk about how this all came to be.

(x, via AMLT Wiki)

[blueinkphantom]

season 2 didn’t even start and I already have an angsty idea but i don’t know if it’s too early for it and it got longer than i thought it would so it’s under the cut

everything is going relatively well the first weeks/months. more people find each other, connect, become friends. there are still conflicts but this time they manage to solve them before they escalate and derail. some minor conflicts can’t be solved/don’t get solved but it’s ok because it doesn’t get worse at least. it doesn’t develop into major conflicts.

many that drifted/split apart in the prior timeline found each other again. this time most stay. fiancés marry, old trios reunite, allies and friends that stayed till the end stick around once more. buildings stand, created by more than one pair of hands. laughter comes from a house that looks big and inviting. nights at a campfire and singing along to music.

no one knows who experienced it first. the faint deja-vu. this slight feeling of familiarity accompanied by a brief flash of a similar picture to the current scene with a different amount of divergence each time.

it’s not always bad. some give off warmth and happiness. (another house built for everyone by multiple hands. the repetitious ringing of a bell. a big bed with enough place for a cuddle pile.)

But some leave the person with unease. A feeling of wrong, run, hide, DANGER! help... please

(A haircut with shears too loud. An explosion done for quick clearing of space. a sleeping figure in blue.)

It started small. only every once in a while. then it happened more often. and then, the seal broke.

dream was hanging out with two of his new friends, sapnap and george. they clicked easily when they first saw each other just like he did when he met some of the other people like punz or tina.

none of them knew afterwards what triggered it. what cut the last string holding it back. what opened the cage of memories that don’t fit in with the last months. they don’t know if it was words spoken or an action done.

what they do remember is seeing another life flash trough their minds in seconds. snippets that their mind tries to fit in with what it had prior. it hurt, it was agonizing and even that word did not fit the amount of pain that surged through them and knocked them all out.

when dream got a semi-grip on consciousness, he found himself on the floor. his mind was still trying to fit everything in but struggled. there are still parts missing that made it hard to connect the newly received memories with his but at least he could now somewhat think again.

he stood up, legs shaky which he blames on his recently unconscious state. sapnap and george’s eyes were open and he debated on what to do. stay or run go?

they are his friends. they have been for months. they have been before. they are safe. its best to stay with them, find out if they experienced something similar and then figure it out together. after all, these memories don't make sense. if they were true, where are his scars that would replace his birthmarks? Where are the few leftover dirty blond streaks among his white hair? if these memories were true, there should be something left to prove it but there isn’t.

so he should stay. stay and talk with them.

it's when one pair of eyes catches sight of him and the part of his mind with the new memories takes over that the decision falls and he runs, his panicked thoughts circling through the same few words. left, promise, run! punz!

there’s hardly any thought as he moves. mostly instinct and it’s instinct that leads him to one person that brings up feelings of safety. It leads him into the arms of a person who seemed to have the same thought as him if the speed at which they neared each other had anything to say.

it leads to a tight hug that means more than when they hugged in greetings or goodbyes. it leads to the person that his mind, still overwhelmed and overloaded with new memories, experiences and pain, deems secure enough. it leads to a short period of comfort before they tackle the issues these memories will probably bring

[septembersghost]

🎵 🎸🌠💖 don't fly away my beautiful bird 💖🌠🎸🎵

(aka pretend EP is actually in this because i was crying too much to get his face at the end, but look!!! my beloveds)

[ko-eko-ev-go-ms]

I really really wish dreams were easier to understand/interpret

[mephestopheles]

everytime I think the adhd might not be real that I might be twisting myself into these shapes to fit a diagnosis, I then find myself obsessively going through every website that has storage options that are available locally, or deliverable within a decent time frame, only to become frustrated the point of insanity when there is the tiniest of roadblocks

[sirfrogsworth]

How do you take a photo of time?

I've been watching the track events at the Olympics since I was a wee lad. It was a tradition in our family. We'd gather around our ancient low-definition 19 inch CRT television and watch tiny blobs compete against other tiny blobs and root for our country.

It was a bit like watching YouTube on your phone in 144p.

Several heroes emerged.

Jackie Joyner-Kersee was amazing.

You can't forget about Flo-Jo.

And then the Olympics decided NBA players were allowed in the competition.

Which formed... The Dream Team.

Was this fair?

Well... they won each game by an average of 44 points.

So... no. It was not fair.

Though it became more fair as time went on.

But, umm... yeah. The other teams looked like the Washington Generals and the US looked like the Harlem Globetrotters if they stopped screwing around half of the game.

But my absolute favorite Olympian was a runner named Michael Johnson.

He was cool as heck.

For one thing... gold shoes.

But he also had this crazy, upright, Tom Cruise-ish sprinting style that just made him look like a running robot on the track.

And in the 1996 Atlanta games he just trounced EVERYONE. I mean, it wasn't even close.

Yikes. Those losing blobs are probably really embarrassed.

Last night I decided to invigorate my nostalgia and watch the track events again. And I got to see one of the wildest races in history.

It didn't even last 10 seconds but it was one of the most exciting sporting events I've ever witnessed. Almost every runner won the race.

After I saw that initially, I was like... who the heck won???

Even in slow motion I wasn't sure.

This was one of the closest finishes in history. There has never been a race where all 8 runners were within this margin.

The arena was silent as the winner was being confirmed. The runners just kind of paced around waiting for official word. My best guess was the Jamaican runner, Kishane Thompson. But then the loudspeaker announced Noah Lyles.

The last tiny morsel of American pride burst out of me with a big "Wooooo!"

I forgot what it was like to be proud of my country. I wish it happened more often. But this young man, despite being last place in the first 3rd of the race, turned on the afterburners and won in a photo finish.

And that's when my inner nerd took over.

Because when they showed the photo finish image, it looked super weird.

Why is the track white?

Why do all of the runners look all warpy like that QWOP game?

So I went down a research rabbit hole to figure this out.

Photo finishes are actually fascinating. The first photo finish captured the end of a horse race in 1890. But that was mostly luck and timing. The actual photo finish mechanisms weren't used until 1937.

Originally they would film the finish line through a physical slit.

And the first horsie head that appeared in that slit would be the winner. This technology ended a huge aspect of corruption in horse race fixing almost overnight.

But we have come a long way since then. And I'd like to introduce you to the Omega Scan 'O' Vision Ultimate.

This slow motion camera sits fixed on the finish line of every race. The concept of the photo finish has remained remarkably similar to the 1930s approach. The camera sensor is specially designed to only record a vertical slit.

Only the finish line itself is actually captured.

And because it limits what it records to only that slit, it can capture 40,000 frames per second to get amazing temporal resolution.

So why don't the photo finishes just look like, well... this?

That is because the camera takes a picture of time more-so than dimensional space. I guess it would be more accurate to say it *assembles* a picture of time.

As the runners cross the finish line, the camera combines all of the little strips of pictures into a single image.

It's almost like if you tried to reassemble a piece of paper after it had been shredded.

Imagine each strip of paper is a picture of ONLY the finish line, just at a slightly different point in time.

What if someone stopped on the finish line and didn't move... what would that look like?

Once they got there, the same part of their body would just be repeated.

So the right side of the photo finish picture represents earlier in time and it just assembles the image strip by strip as time passes and you literally get a picture of time itself.

NEAT!

Okay, but how do they determine the winner from the photo finish?

I mean, that shoe looks like it is ahead of Noah Lyles!

Clavicles!

The IAFF rules state the foremost part of the torso must cross the finish line first. And the endpoint of the torso is the outer end of the clavicle.

So if you get this bone across the finish line first, you win the race.

Two more fun facts!

The start of the race is actually just as carefully timed as the end of the race. There are sensors in the starting blocks of each runner.

The starting gun also has an electronic sensor.

They have determined the fastest a human can react to the sound of a gun is roughly 100 milliseconds. So if you start running before 100 milliseconds they know you didn't actually hear the gun, you just got antsy and started running too early.

And the final fun fact...

Did you notice the Omega logo at the top of the photo finish?

That isn't superimposed or added after the fact. That is captured by the camera.

But if this image is composed only of tiny little slivers, how did they get the Omega logo to show up?

That is a little display. And it is synchronized with the Scan 'O' Vision Ultimate to show a little sliver of the Omega logo for each frame captured.

So when the final image is stitched together, it looks like a cohesive logo at the top of the photo.

Pretty clever, Omega!

[bombusbombus]

Ok normally I have a personal rule against posting about comics until I'm done with them. But can I just say that reading Chris Claremont's characterisation of Magneto with current events in Israel & Palestine being what they are is absolutely bonkers.

[wasteland-lover]

i had another dream with ochoa in it

[satoruxx]

you're sweating when you wake up, skin sticking painfully to your bedsheets as your bleary eyes dart around, attempting to make focus of your surroundings. the room is still dark, barely touched by the slight bit of moonlight that attempts to peak through the closed windows—defiant. it takes a minute to realize that the sounds that are breaking the silence are actually coming from your own throat—breathy, wheezing gasps of terror.

your stomach drops when your fingers grip cold and empty fabric. he's gone he's gone he's go—

"what are you doing up, pretty?"

your head snaps to the doorway. satoru stands there, sweats hanging low on his hips even as his hand remains curled around a glass of water. his hair is tousled with sleep, but his cerulean eyes are sharp and lively.

as soon as he sees the panic lacing your expression, his eyes widen, long legs practically tripping over themselves as he stumbles towards you.

"what happened?" he asks sharply, frantically placing the cup on the bedside table to take your face into his palms. shades of blue dart back and forth across your features as he perches one knee on the mattress and peers down at you. "are you okay?"

his touch sends electricity through your veins—a splash of ice water pulling you away from that painful reverie.

your heart both clenches and soars, the idea of what you saw being terrifying, and yet finding out it wasn't true being that much more relieving.

"i just—" your voice comes out choked, and satoru's fingers twitch against your skin imperceptibly. "had a bad dream."

you think your brain must be cruel for conjuring up a dream in which satoru could suffer to such abhorrent extents.

"oh sweets." satoru's sigh is sympathetically soft, thumb brushing over the apple of your cheek just barely. "it was just a nightmare."

"i know," you swallow, voice shaking. there's an uncharacteristic wetness pooling at your waterline. "i-it just felt so real."

"baby..." satoru immediately pulls you against the steady planes of his chest, thick arms snaking around your waist to eliminate any measly amount of distance between you two. you prop your chin on his shoulder, sighing as you feel his snowy hair tickling at your cheek.

"it wasn't real, sweetheart," he says, pulling back just slightly to push a piece of hair from your face. his thumb then drags under your eyes, wiping away the unshed tears. "see. you're here, i'm here. everything's all good."

"yeah." you're nodding, unable to take your eyes off of him because he's real and alive and so breathtakingly perfect. "yeah, you're right."

he gives you a lopsided smile, eyes bright and glowing. "i don't like to brag, but i usually am."

you snort out a laugh, missing the way his expression turns pleased at the sound. "hilarious. you love to brag."

"you got me there," he shrugs, grinning as you stick your tongue out at him. the lighthearted banter solidifies the fact that satoru is fine and unharmed and completely yours, but you can still feel the apprehension coursing through your veins. chills run up your spine—you try not to show it.

but of course, satoru has always been able to see right through you.

his teasing smile goes soft, and he inhales deeply.

"was it about me?" he asks, climbing into bed next you. you lay back down carefully.

"yeah," you mumble, watching him tug the blankets over your body and tuck you both under a cocoon of warmth.

"hm." something in his tone tells you he's not unfamiliar with the feelings you seem to be experiencing—his body shifts closer to yours. ocean eyes carefully asses you, deep and calculating and so concerned even as he smoothes a warm palm over your shoulder blades. "wanna tell me what happened?"

the truth is you do want to, because satoru has always understood you better than you've ever understood yourself—you have no doubt he'd be able to comfort you just as well as he normally does.

and yet...

"no," you answer, pressing your nose into his neck. a deep breath in, the lively scent that is so inherently your gojo satoru filling your very soul. "it's okay. i think i'll be fine."

when you shut your eyes, images flash behind them—of bloodied bodies and stitches and swapped souls. yet a chaste kiss to your forehead pulls you back to where you're supposed to be, warm and grounding.

"i know you'll be fine," satoru murmurs, lips tickling your brow as he speaks. you think you can hear the gentle smile as he says it, and your grip on him tightens—never letting go. "i'm right here after all."