#the borders of infinity

[momo-shut-the-fuck-up]

Thank u for the replies i have remembered that we already established this is an alternate timeline. Memory issues go brr

Despite the founder sayin its an alternate timeline, im still gonna try to find connections to the miralands we know, cuz it just feels right. Like, yes, alternate timeline, but roughly what year? Are we in the "new era" equivalent or before that? Its an alternate timeline, so when did it "split"? That's what i wanna figure out and maybe i can even see why some places became what they are that d be fun

Like, cicia still exist. Its no longer got a "design school" its an art academy, ( they still. Do design though. Whatever) but it s still Named cicia. Does it have a theatre? Idk. I wanna know why they decided to rename every other city and country but kept cicia. Maybe just cuz they felt like it lol but anyway thats my ramble done i cant wait to comb this game properly

[burinazar]

i was trying to remember what book series i read where a guy was thinking to himself like, god its so hot when a woman has blood on her tits, because he saw a woman with blood on her tits after killing an enemy and thought she looked hot, and then immediately mentally backtracked like OH WAIT BUT NOT IF IT'S BECAUSE SHES HURT OR ANYTHING. I MEAN BECAUSE OF BESTING A CREATURE/PERSON IN RECENT COMBAT.

after brainstorming i'm 99.9% sure it was Maroto from the Crimson Empire books

but I strongly considered that it was Miles Vorkosigan instead. it could be in character for the latter. uh, maybe less so with that first part as time goes on and the poor little dude accumulates ptsd and more and more weariness of violence, but 'i sure admire a woman who can fucking kill someone when the situation calls for it' is pretty Miles.

probably gets it from his dad.

[elevensbian]

having a hum hallelujah night and. everyone always talks about 'i could write it better than you ever felt it' being about pete writing lyrics which makes sense considering he wrote the line but the bridge.... they wrote that one better than i ever felt it. it sounds almost desperate? feels a lot like clinging on to life using a song as an anchor- metaphorically but also thats literally what happened. it's just horrifically gut wrenching and captures all the emotion of the lyrics in music form So gorgeously. it sounds exactly how rock bottom feels- it's off key from the original (just off the key of reason etc etc), the guitars are all distorted and violent instead of quiet and clean, there's this big loud drum beat, everything is wrong and messed up and scary. but it's still sort of, weirdly hopeful? i think it's the vocal, up against this big guitar-y instrumental it's soft and pretty, like being vaguely aware that love and joy are still out there even if they're sort of floaty and distant and very much do not feel like concepts you can comprehend. idk man. i do not know music theory but that bridge makes me feel things

[drethelin]

Now, there's this about cynicism, Sergeant. It's the universe's most supine moral position. Real comfortable. If nothing can be done, then you're not some kind of shit for not doing it, and you can lie there and stink to yourself in perfect peace.

Miles Vorkosigan, Borders of Infinity

[regallibellbright]

So I’m rereading Borders of Infinity now for fic research, this is totally what I’m calling it, I am not just giving a random fictional character an enjoyment of a Vorkosigan book because I like it, I can justify this thematically, ANYWAY.

I am hoping to appreciate Labyrinth more on this reread than I did awkwardly reading the short stories in chronological order rather than all at once before Brothers in Arms the first time, which served the latter two and the books I was reading in between pretty poorly but especially Labyrinth. I love Taura, I look forward to Taura, and of course both “get imprisoned by a Jacksonian crimelord, fall in love with the genetically-enhanced wolf girl he keeps in the basement, and then severely damage his business while you escape with her” and “get sent to a POW camp to find one hero to rally an army against the Cetagandan Empire around, find the old plan won’t work, start a cult and use your own charisma to organize the prisoners so that you can stage a flawless, ordered prison break liberating the ENTIRE CAMP to serve as an army, and do all this after being thrown in there stark naked” are among the most Miles Vorkosigan things the man has ever committed.

But.

But.

I don’t think anything will ever manage to displace The Mountains of Mourning and its comparative calm as my absolute favorite of the three. It’s grounded, it’s sad, the closure is just perfect in what Miles can’t do for justice here and what he can, and the times Miles addresses Raina are just lovely prose. It reminds you exactly why he’s always off on these harebrained schemes with something to prove, and the placement of it in the framing story shows he uses it to remind HIMSELF that as well. I love it. I love it even more on reread knowing its callback in Memory and the way he makes a lasting difference there, and the way Silvy Vale and the Csuriks leave an impact on him. It’s just so good.

[elena1701a]

Miles and his hat in Borders of Infinity.

A short scene from the short story Borders of Infinity by Lois McMaster Bujold. Because who doesn’t like a charismatic “clerk” and his imaginary hat?

[brudberg1]

The burden of its blueprint

The universe (which others call the Library) is composed of an indefinite, sperhaps infinite number of hexagonal galleries.― Jorge Luis Borges, The library of Babel “Until then I had thought each book spoke of the things, human or divine, that lie outside books. Now I realized that not infrequently books speak of books: it is as if they spoke among themselves. In the light of this reflection,…

[kid-crayon]

Front Yard Los Angeles Small front porch with concrete pavers in a transitional style

[rawson-butts]

Front Yard Concrete Pavers Inspiration for a sizable concrete paver driveway in the front yard with full sun.

[sakurafarron]

Los Angeles Porch Front Yard

[wutya2ijb2t]

Sex in beach Teen and mature gay emo porn If you get off on observing really Slow Motion BBC Face Fucking Young Ebony babes loves Intense Backshots Maki Oze FireForce 3D Hentai 5/7 Nuru Massage For Girls Too They Love It The king must hear this - queen caught enjoying big black dick Thick Pawg Off Juicy Phat Ass Pendeja rubia tatuada argenta peteando Sexcy Kashmiri girl with her college friend

[delvinanaris]

BoI’s original cover isn’t particularly misogynistic, fortunately.

The next Vorkosigan book came in for me through ILL and they fucking library bound it.

[lordsukunas]

“tada!”

you step out of the dressing room, and, just like always, you are absolutely radiant. the room, once illuminated by the dim, warm ceiling lights is now practically shining with your natural glow.

the white dress is absolutely gorgeous on you. it hugs your frame deliciously, and satoru is weak — his eyes, hidden like a coward behind those dark glasses, trace the curve of your waist, the roundness of your chest and hips, the dip in your shoulders.

ethereal.

it’s as if it was made just for you. the material, the dye, the seamstress, the fashion designer — they must have had you in mind when they created this, because it suits no one else. no one will ever be able to pull off such a dress, not in a million years.

“uh, satoru?” oh, shit.

he blinks, then coughs, a huge grin spreading across his face. he hopes you don’t notice how pink his ears are. “i was payin’ attention, i swear! you look good– stunning, really.”

your lips, so soft and kissable-looking, curve up into a smile. “you just blanked out on me. if you don’t like the dress, you can just say that, y’know...” there’s a teasing lilt in your voice, and his ears burn just a bit hotter.

satoru quickly shakes his head, and he places his hands on your shoulders. your skin is warm, like it’s been kissed personally by the sun. “no, no! i love it. it suits you, and it’s your wedding, so it’s up to you.”

envy, a rare but absolutely repulsive feeling, curls up in his gut and ties it into knots. right. this is your wedding. you and nanami.

not him.

he steps back and filters you out of his infinity. he should remember his place.

you twist side to side, the expensive fabric swishing and dragging against the polished floors. “i know, but... you’re my best friend, and i really want this to be perfect. ken-ken–” (he knows you and nanami are well-beyond first-name basis by now, but the nickname catches him off-guard.) “–would likely think any dress i choose looks nice, but you’re a pretty harsh critic! remember when i went on a date for the first time and i had on that hideous dress with the bad zipper?”

“yeah.” he snorts, and some of the envy ebbs away, replaced by a warm fuzziness. his fingers were trembling trying to zip up the back of that dress, just for the thing to be broken. “you looked fucking ridiculous.”

“see? that’s my point right there!”

“you make me sound so mean.” satoru huffs, slapping a hand dramatically to his chest. “i’m a great guy! a perfect one!”

perfect for you.

you scoff, lifting the dress up a bit so you can easily walk over to your purse and find your phone. “mhm, sure. i’ll believe that when i attend your wedding next time.”

satoru slumps down on the loveseat, crossing one long leg over the other. “don’t need a wedding to prove i’m irresistible,” he grumbles.

out of the corner of his eye, he watches your fingers fly across the screen, and that small, adorable smile on your face tells him exactly who you’re texting.

and envy comes right back, bubbling up and settling in his throat, hot and acidic.

he’s right here. this is supposed to be about you and satoru. kento can wait. you see him when you go home, don’t you? in a few weeks, you’re going to spend the rest of your life with that man — can’t you make time for just your best friend?

“you telling nanami about the dress?” if you weren’t so absorbed in your phone, you might have noticed the strain in satoru’s voice.

you nod. “yeah, i wanna take a picture for him,” you say, going over to him. instinctively, you shift closer to him, already holding your phone up to take a photo, but you can feel his infinity pulsing against your side.

huh.

your brows knit together. “your infinity is on.”

“it’s always on.” he shrugs, as if him having his infinity up around his purpose in life is absolutely normal.

your hand moves to swat at his arm, only for it to press against the border of atoms. awkwardly, your hand falls limp into your lap. “yeah, but usually i don’t feel it.” a pause. “is everything okay? are you sick? if you wanna leave, we can, dress shopping can wait.”

the genuine concern in your tone strikes satoru right in the heart, and he swears it stops beating for a moment. he’s being an asshole, you didn’t do anything wrong. why is he pushing you away? how does he stop?

“... sorry.” he wraps an arm around your shoulders, yanking you in closer. your shoulder rests against his bicep, and the sides of both your thighs touch.

the gentle, refreshing smell of your perfume wafts into his nose. his eyes dart to the crook of your neck, where he knows it’ll be strongest.

“pose!” you nudge him, and he looks at the camera, an easy smile curving his lips. satoru’s glad for his glasses again — nanami won’t be able to see the lust in his eyes.

man idk ill lock in on this later

one-hundred forty-one. satoru picks another skull up, places it between both of his hands, and crushes it into dust. one-hundred forty-two.

he’s sorry, by the way. you’ll never know it, but he is.

the wedding was supposed to be last month. it’s been two weeks, four days, seven hours, thirty-six minutes, and twelve seconds. thirteen, since he’s been sealed in this box.

he isn’t going to sit here and mope about that... imposter getting one over on him. he’s done that enough, and he’s absolutely sure you’d make fun of him.

satoru was best-man. he was supposed to be by nanami’s side and congratulate both of you. itadori, megumi, kugisaki... they were supposed to be there, too. kugisaki as the flower girl, megumi as the ring-bearer, and itadori to play cheerleader.

it was supposed to be great.

but he didn’t go. couldn’t make the flight, because of course curse users decided to stir shit up the night he planned to leave.

that’s another reason for him to hate them. they’re always ruining the things he loves, taking and taking and taking–

one-hundred forty-three.

he’s running out of skulls to crush, and he’s already worked out for the day. it’s weird in here – after all the sweating he’s done, oddly enough, he doesn’t stink.

satoru sighs, laying flat on his back, bright eyes staring up into the void. do you hate him? you should.

he’s not a good person. he wanted– wants you, even after you and nanami started dating. even after the engagement. and, now, even after marriage. who yearns for something they can’t have? that’s pathetic!

but... forgive him, please.

forgive him for not attending your wedding, for not confessing sooner, for not sweeping you off your feet first, for not keeping his eyes and hands to himself.

satoru gojo loves you. always and forevermore. and he’s sorry.

unfinished :/

[bluebasie]

Sanegiyuu Makes So Much Sense!!

I absolutely adore the ship of Sanemi and Giyuu and it never fails to confuse me when people say they don't understand why people ship them or when people say it makes no sense, especially when compared to other ships. I understand it's one thing to personally not ship Sanegiyuu because obviously it's just not for everyone and other people prefer other ships, but I definitely feel like I can confidently say that the ship makes a ton of sense from a character perspective. 

Firstly, Sanemi and Giyuu have this mutual interest in each other that just isn't displayed when Giyuu or Sanemi interact with the other Hashiras or just others in general. While Sanemi loves to say that he hates Giyuu’s attitude he could just as easily just ignore him and leave him alone since he ‘dislikes him so much’. But clearly Sanemi has some sort of interest with Giyuu as seen when he gets so worked up when Giyuu tries to leave the Hashira meeting after it was over in comparison to the other Hashiras who albeit showed care for Giyuu’s abandonment, they all remained seated except for Sanemi who tried to physically force Giyuu to stay. If Sanemi really did dislike Giyuu’s presence he wouldn't have cared if Giyuu left or stayed but the fact that he wanted him to stay shows he does care about him even if it was negative at first. Then there was their whole sparing scene in which Sanemi apparently stormed to Giyuus house to try to talk to him or at least get some kind of reaction out of him which clearly shows Sanemi’s abnormal obsession with Giyuu whether it be his actions or trying to understand him. Then when Tanjiro 'interrupted’ the two fighting Sanemi seemed to gain a new layer of protectiveness that he clearly didn't have while fighting when he noticed Tanjiro’s presence. While Sanemi seemed unrestrained and free while fighting Giyuu with an onslaught of loose movements and confident attacks as if his spar with Giyuu was a form of stress relief for him, when seeing Tanjiro and realizing his spar with Giyuu was being perceived by another he immediately put his borders back up. Sanemi immediately came to the conclusion that Tanjiro was spying on them as if their spar was a private moment between two close companions. Sanemi already seemed to get defensive when Tanjiro arrived but when Tanjiro revealed Sanemi enjoyance of frivolous things such as ohagi and green tea and Sanemi’s persona as some kind of extreme tough guy who didn't care for things such as sweets was broken obviously Sanemi started to get irritated. What's interesting about this scene though is that it isn't until Giyuu comments on Sanemi’s affection for ohagi does Sanemi crash out and punch the lights out of Tanjiro. It's just so obvious that Sanemi was embarrassed that Giyuu could think he's soft which just provided another example of Sanemi caring what Giyuu thinks of him when he clearly does not care when it comes to others. It's just too funny how much Sanemi cares about Giyuu to the point where the scene right before THE ENTIRE INFINITY CASTLE ARC AND THE DEATH OF SO MANY CHARACTERS he is literally just storming off and steaming at the thought of “what would have happened if Tanjiro didn't interrupt”.

It’s even more hilarious that Giyuu, the character that is literally known for being antisocial and having no friends, just wants to be Sanemi’s friend. Giyuu has Tanjiro and Shinobu and definitely a few others who are trying or have tried desperately to befriend him with absolutely no reaction but apparently Giyuu decides that he wants to befriend the unapproachable guy with anger issues who says he dislikes him. I'm sorry but that is such homosexual activity I don't even know how else to put it. Like Sanemi literally barged into Giyuu’s house, fought him, knocked his little brother out, and stormed off without a word, and all Giyuu can think of afterward is how happy he is to know Sanemi’s favorite food and is already coming up with a sad plan to win him over. This dude is really smiling and all thinking of his perfect future interaction with Sanemi with floating flowers in his little fantasy. I also just love the idea that he uses Tanjiro as his little wingman to help come up with ideas to win Sanemi over that all probably fail miserably just like the ohagi. 

Sanemi and Giyuu have been set up from the beginning and you can see the future of their relationship from the fact that Giyuu’s voice was enough to distract Sanemi enough to get hit by Tanjiro who was a much lower rank than himself in the scene of Nezuko’s trial. The characters have been set up as parallel characters throughout the series in so many ways it's hard to not spot the special relationship between them that isn't there between other characters. Their character design and personalities are already foil with Sanemi’s white hair and impulsive and explosive personality compared to Giyuu’s black hair and calm and collected personality. There is Sanemi’s ability to speak his mind at all times and Giyuu’s inability to speak his mind at times at all. There is Sanemi’s main emotion and expression being one of anger with Giyuu’s being sadness. Another big foil being Giyuu’s compassion and trust towards Tanjiro and Nezuko and their situation while acting as an advocate for them while Sanemi had clear mistrust towards them and their situation acting as their biggest opponent during Nezuko’s trial. Finally, there is the fact that Giyuu’s fighting style is one that revolves around ultimate defense while Sanemi is one that focuses on the ultimate attack. Just by noticing their opposites you can tell the importance of their relationship, but this continues throughout the series in which they are the ONLY two hashiras to survive which was definitely done for a reason. Their relationship is also displayed during their clash to turn their blades red showing their status as equals. The fact that they are the two last Hashiras ties them together even more seeing as after the war they both kind of don't have anyone to lean on besides themselves with the Kamaboko squad all living together and the Uzui’s having each other, Sanemi and Giyuu don’t have some big family to stay with, so they hang out with each other as seen in the panel why their having lunch together.

Out of every non canon ship I truly think thank Sanemi and Giyuu have the most developed and well written relationship down to basic characterization to where these two seem like they were really made together as a pair. Even though they aren’t canonically romantic, their relationship is written better than some actual cannon ships and I think some people should look more into the smaller details when it comes to this ship!

[izzbeingchaotic]

[Edit to include this lovely description by @anistarrose

Image description: digital art of Tulip and Lake from Infinity Train. Tulip is walking through a field of pink flowers with Atticus, her back to the viewer. One-One is riding on her shoulder.

The image is split in two by a black border, and Lake appears on the other side, leaning against the divider. Their head is in their hands, with an anguished expression, and cracks weave through the space on their side.

Symbols ranging from One-One to the train's doors to binary code run down the black divider. The following images are assorted close-ups. End description.]

It would not let me just have not blurry art so you get close ups instead!

I was rewatching season 1 and thinking about all those scenes before we meet Lake where they are just existing as a reflection. So I drew it

Also trying to challenge myself so I had a colour palette and tried not to deviate which is why some of the colours are weird

[synthetickitsune]

Oh, Death ✧ y.jh

Pairing: grim reaper!Yoon Jeonghan x reader (gn) Genre: angst without plot Summary: You've always thought death was beautiful and then you’re proven right just before your very own death when he comes to take you away. Word count: 1.3k Warnings: reader dies, implied suicidal thoughts and body image issues (very brief mentions for both) A/N: based on three banger lines (in bold in the fic) that @hanniedream dropped into my dms and then wrote her own amazing fic (with plot!!) that's much better than whatever this is so go read that (i'm just freeloading on bibi's big brain here)

You've always thought death was beautiful and then you’re proven right just before your very own death when he comes to take you away.

He stands there like an apparition of moonlight on a cold and rainy night, a single beam that would break the stormy skies and bring silence upon the world.

As if covered by a heavy blanket of snow, as if the time has stopped, all sound disappears from the world, from the street, from your room. You take a breath and you’re so startled you gasp again, self-conscious of the loud noise in the perfect silence.

His breathing is quiet and slow, methodical, as if he’s counting the beats of your heart before he breathes each time. It’s slow, you find, your heartbeat. Almost artificial in its steady tempo.

Somehow you feel like it’s stopped beating a long time ago, now only a memory meant to soothe you. Your body trying to save your life one last time, the memories of your cells working all together to keep you alive keep going even after their purpose was fulfilled until the last second. You look behind you - mean to look.

You can’t.

Not with the cold but gentle fingertips softly touching your jaw just as you’re about to turn back to take a look.

You’re startled again when your gaze turns towards what’s in front of you. He moved without a sound, crossing the expanse of space between you in just one second. Where are you? It feels like a dream. The split second of time between sleep and waking up, the short infinity when a lightning flashes in perfect silence and wakes you up from your sleep. You think you see stars, but they lose their shine against his eyes.

They’re the color of ice but hold the gentleness of melting snow, the water freed from its icy prison and searching for someone to embrace and mold itself against their shape. His touch is just like that snow, stealing your warmth slowly. You don’t mind it being drained as long as he keeps his fingers on your skin. He never warms up. His touch remains freezing and he looks apologetic for that. Yet there’s no reason. His cold is one of a breeze on summer’s day, a cold towel on your forehead when you’re tormented by fever.

You think you love him, death.

You understand that’s what he is. That there’s nothing that can be done about it, or about your demise. It’s not his place to decide about it, only to carry it out. He’s gentle. Quiet. As cold as his touch is, it doesn’t hurt you. You don’t remember any pain. You feel light, something akin to happiness buzzing under your skin. Elated. That’s how you feel. A reverent sort of happiness that you suppose comes after the hardship is over.

Is it an act of mercy that he won’t let you see the body that kept you alive? Or is it a rule he has to follow? You wish to see it. For all the complicated feelings you might’ve had towards it through your life, it was yours. It treated you as best as it could.

You lower your eyes like a child being scolded when his fingers stroke your cheek gently, preventing you from turning back for the second time. He’s patient. You don’t know what you’re supposed to do, but you’re sure it’s not lingering on the border between life and death, between the then and the to-be. Yet you do. It’s strange. You craved death so dearly, like a sweet candy after a bitter medicine, yet now that you’re parting with life you’re hesitant. Like wondering if you forgot to take your keys with you the moment the door is closed. Only this time, there’s no one to help you. Shedding your skin, like shedding your life in the world of living, is perhaps truly an act of mercy.

Of course you weren’t prepared for death, and for what comes after. No matter how much you longed for it and wished for it at times. It feels awkward. You’re glad someone is here waiting for you, guiding you. You’re sure he’s meant to guide you. It feels familiar. Did a similar scene happen before? Your memories are so hazy, your entire life flashing through your mind on a loop. Perhaps he’s there too somewhere, waiting like he’s waiting now for you to notice him.

You raise your gaze again and meet his eyes.

You always knew there was a reason you thought about and loved death as much as you did and now that you're face to face with him, everything made sense. death was beautiful. Death is beautiful.

You wonder if someone told him before.

Slowly he lets his hand fall, tracing your skin down your neck and towards your collarbones. Then lower. He caresses your sternum until his fingers stop just below it. You shiver. Like a deer staring into the scope of a rifle, you hold his gaze. They’re kind, his eyes. He’s kind. You feel no pain.

His soft eyes reassure you and comfort you. You start crying, and you see tears pooling in his eyes too until a single one overflows. You feel cold. The cold of staying in the pool for too long. The cold of sitting in the shower after the water stopped running, the droplets cooling on your skin, barely any heat remaining trapped in the fold of your curled body. 

His lips part only slightly. You want to hear his voice but he doesn’t say anything. Your breathing is erratic and too loud, you can’t even hear him breathing. Another tear spills. His other hand comes to hold your face like he did before. Gently, a barely-there touch. His hands are always gentle. Careful not to cause pain. Something is being ripped from you with his icy touch, but it doesn’t hurt. Does it hurt him? Is he taking your pain away? If so, you wish he didn’t. Seeing him cry is like watching an angel weep. It should never happen. No matter if he’s the opposite of an angel.

It feels like an ice shard is being pulled from your body, so slowly that the sharp edges don't cut you. Something heavy is being taken from you. Something that kept the blood, the hurt, inside you. What are you going to do without it? His fingers move smoothly to hold your chin up, so you don’t see what it is that he took from you. There’s a void in your chest left behind. A black hole swallowing everything, starving to fill the emptiness. It’s not hard to guess what it was that he took from you.

One more tear falls. You want to tell him it’s okay. Instead he leans closer. His soft breath caresses your skin. You close your eyes when he’s so close you can see the web of galaxies in his irises. His lips are like petals of a frozen flower against the skin of your cheek. When you open your eyes again, he’s crying. Silently.

He extends a hand towards you, stained ruby. You take it. It’s sticky and cold. It binds you together. 

If the stain remains, if it’s never washed away, will the blood spin itself into a string that would guide you back to him?

Without an answer, you follow him. For now, you only need to hold his hand. You don’t need to look for him if he found you.

And for now, that’s enough. 

For now, you feel him. 

Later you’ll look for ways to find him too.