#every week it feels like this happens

[inthehouseoffinwe]

Finarfin Fades.

No one expects it, no one’s faded in Valinor since Miriel. The War of Wrath is won and he comes back, waving off the courtiers, well wishers, and congratulators with his usual grace, and walks into the palace of Tirion. To rooms abandoned since their owners left so long ago. Winding deeper and deeper his feet take him to what was once Finwë’s favourite garden.

He’s so tired.

He’s fulfilled his promise to Fëanaro and Nolofinwë, to avenge them. To make the agony of their final moments - agony Finarfin felt, falling to the floor screaming as fire and darkness consumed his spirit - count for something. Now Morgoth is finally gone, but he’s not the only one.

His brothers, larger than life, larger than death, are gone. With them his sons. Niece. Nephews. Grandchildren. His daughter is never to return. He Saw little Nelyo’s death in his dreams and is sure hopes for the child’s own sake that Makalaurë will be close behind.

Little remains. Even less on these golden shores.

So Finarfin sits on a bench long overgrown with vines and weeds, and watches the sun filter through the thicket, wishing the ghosts he sees in his father’s garden would flesh out.

He sits. He waits.

And by the time anyone finds him, it’s too late.

…at least he’s smiling again.

[ardate]

Every Boromir hater makes my enormous love for him grow stronger. Sorry you couldn't understand him, I get him tho and we're holding hands and the whole of Gondor is laughing at you

[lovesickeros]

☆ de fontaine

{☆} characters furina {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings angst, suicidal thoughts, hurt / no comfort {☆} word count 1.4k

This wasn't fair. This wasn't fair. This wasn't fair!

She thought, for one moment, she could put the mask down and breathe – for one moment of daydreaming, she thought she could just be Furina. She thought she would finally get to live the live she should've had in the first place, the life she threw away to play God to an audience who saw her as nothing but a circus animal, dancing to their whims. Furina just wanted to be selfish for one brief and fleeting moment..and it was gone before she could even grasp it in her hand. A comet soaring past far out of her reach.

She can barely keep her hands from violently shaking as she looks down at them – broken and bloody and more a corpse then a person – and she feels so numb she can't even feel the rain pelting against her back. None of this is fair, she wants to scream, why is it always me? But her voice is silent beneath the torrent of rain. She wonders if the ocean would take her if she sank into it's depths – just for a moment, she wonders how it would feel to finally be able to sleep at ease.

Furina is tired.

But Furina is nothing if not useful, isn't she?

So she forces her feet to move, dragging against the stone beneath her heels, and drags their bloodied body into the nearest empty building, letting the rain do the work of washing away the smeared blood following her path. The smell makes her feel sick, the feeling of it sticking to her hands and gloves makes her lightheaded, but she persists. Because Furina is useful, because Furina won't let them die out in the rain, because Furina won't stand by and just let them rot on the streets like some..pest.

Furina wants to go home. She wants to sleep and she isn't she if she wants to wake up, this time. But she keeps going anyway.

Because it's all she's ever done, and the habit sticks.

An Archon she may not be, not anymore, but the expectations of five hundred years still linger like eyes on the inside of her skull. They watch her, pry and prod at her thoughts, mocking laughter and judging eyes following her as she forces herself to dance to the song they weave with glee. Furina never stepped off that stage – she's still there, she thinks, watching the crowd stare at her in disdain as the curtain call looms above her like a guillotine. She still hears Neuvillette deliver her damnation and salvation with a trembling voice, still feels her hair stand on end when electro crackled like the crack of the whip, Clorinde's blade aimed at her like a loaded gun.

She's trapped on that stage and she never left, not really.

She hates it. She thinks she hates them, but it's not their fault. They didn't ask for this, didn't ask for everyone to turn against them, didn't ask for her to save them. Neither did she..yet here they are, she thinks.

She tries to tell herself she's in control this time, though. She can stop performing her part in this horrible, bloody play any time she wants. It makes her feel better, just for a little while, if she convinces herself she's still Furina, painfully human.

And Furina has always been good at lying.

It's the believing that's the hard part.

There isn't time for her to wallow in her own self pity, though. They're still bleeding out onto the dusty, creaky floorboards of some random, broken down house and she's just standing there as the blood stains the wood. She can fix it – she's good at fixing things. She's done nothing but fix things – try to, anyway – for five hundred years. She can fix a little wound, how hard could it be? Her hands are clenched so tight they ache as she kneels down, wincing at the creak of the floorboards beneath her heels– she hesitates just long enough to wonder if she's making a mistake before she peels away just enough of the outer layer of their clothes to see the deep, bloody gash across their chest. She tries not to think about it – it's deep, too deep, and she feels dizzy just looking at it, but she's handled worse, right?

Furina can fix it. That's what she's good at.

She doesn't feel so confident when she tries to wrack her brain for..something. Five hundred years, and a little wound stumps her? No, she had to have learned something, right? She's decidedly not trying to buy time because she's panicking, parsing through hundreds of years of memories like flipping through a book. Furina isn't made for this, not really – she's running on nothing but adrenaline and she's really not sure what she's doing, but she's trying. And just like before, it won't be enough, will it?

She'll fall short again – she'll be too late to fix it before she's alone again.

Furina was an Archon..used to be. What use would she have for that sort of knowledge? Which makes her predicament all the more harrowing and bleak. What was she supposed to do?

Furina had heard it first hand, that vitriol in Neuvillette's voice. She isn't sure she's ever heard him that..angry before. She's not sure he would listen to her if she tried, either. And that scares her more then anything. All of Fontaine was up in arms about this..imposter, yet here she was, staring down at them bleeding out in front of her, and she was trying to save them.

Why? Why is she throwing away her only chance at normalcy for a fraud? Why didn't she just turn them in?

They were dying – that should've been a good thing, shouldn't it? So why didn't it feel like it?

"Why you?" Her voice breaks as she speaks in harsh tones, grabbing the front of their shirt in trembling, bloodied hands. "Why now?" She wants to scream, to demand answers they can't give, to claw back the reprieve she was promised after five hundred years of agony..and all she can do is sob into their chest, pleading for an answer that will not come. "Why me?"

Silence is their answer, and it hangs heavy on her trembling shoulders as she cries.

Of course they don't, she thinks bitterly, no one has ever answered her pleas spoken in hushed sobs. Not her other self and certainly not them.

Furina has always been alone. Furina will always be alone.

Because Furina never left that stage, never left that moment when she looked at herself in the mirror and took up a mantle too heavy for her to bear. She always finds her way back eventually. There's no one on the other side anymore – she stands alone on a stage, waiting for an inevitable end she isn't sure will come.

"Please," She pleads through tears and choked sobs, clinging to them like they are all that keeps her from sinking. "Please don't leave me, too." The words burn on her tongue – how pathetic is she that she craves companionship from the bloodied body of the imposter? Perhaps she's truly lost her mind after all these years..perhaps she's finally gone mad. She must have.

But their presence is like the first feeling of gentle warmth upon her skin as the sun crests the horizon, like the gentle lap of tides along her heels, the sway of branches and leaves as the wind blows through them like an instrument all it's own. They are the soothing sound of rain against the window as she watches the dreary skies in fond longing, the first bloom of spring as color blooms upon the landscape like paint had been spilled across the hills and valleys.

They are like the faint spark she carefully nurtures and stokes, so fragile even the smallest wind could blow it out like a candle. She cradles it within her palms, pleads with whoever will listen – prays that someone finally listens, because if not for her, then for them.

She's failed to protect too much already, let too many people with so much trust in her fall between the cracks of her fingers like grains of sand. She won't let them go – she can't.

If nothing else, if she couldn't be saved when she begged for salvation from that five hundred year long agony, even if she never got that chance..

Furina will make sure they do.

[iridescentoracle]

i am so obsessed with how like. taken as read the ot3 are at this point. like on the one hand it feels like they've been building up to this for ages but on the other hand it kind of feels like i blinked and we skipped right past some Major Turning Point where everything got spelled out and we're just already in firmly Established Relationship-land. obviously tarvek is too well-protected for anyone to assassinate openly, look how angry his boyfriend and girlfriend are at the idea of anyone threatening him. at this point i'm half-convinced agatha's just going to refer to her boyfriends in passing to someone else and no one's even going to comment on it until van finds out twenty pages later and immediately starts making everyone pay up

[seraphsfire]

im obsessed with neil newbon the Just Some Guy / Fey Creature energy he has, he dresses like a genderfluid cybergoth pajama model, has the body language of a tiny cat in the form of a 6'2 very large man, the bubbly energy of a middle school girl, the athletic skill of a stuntman, will say the smartest and sweetest and most heartbreaking shit and then 10 minutes later while he's gaming he'll accidentally take off a companion characters undies and flash everybody, wildshape his character into a cat, meow intermittently for 15 minutes and ur not quite sure if he realizes he's still doing it? Then he'll spin the strangest little story flirting with himself of two characters he made up and talking in the voices the whole time, remind you his half wood-elf is VERY stupid and very pansexual, and then leave? The minute i saw his first stream i was like FUCK i guess i'm keeping this guy huh. 10/10

[beybuniki]

people who dump leaked spoilers into my ask box get blocked, why do I have to say this every single week

[scificrows]

The Roombabot Diaries

"Even without full scan function, I still had my dark vision filters and my own mapping data, so with the fixed point of the corridor hatch, I could retrace my steps to the ramp. It just looked awkward and stupid because for the first part I had to navigate like a floor-cleaning bot." - Martha Wells, System Collapse (Video and audio description below the cut)

VIDEO ID:

An animated video of Murderbot, in a full environmental suit (featuring a little 'Perihelion' logo on its chest and an opaque helmet).

Murderbot is wandering around a dark space, the sound of its footsteps on the stone floor are audible. It walks in a straight line to the right until it hits a pillar with an audible 'thunk' noise and stops. A grumpy smiley face appears next to it.

It recalibrates, making little chirping calibrating sounds, then turns and moves towards the viewer until it seems to hit the camera (again with a 'thunk' noise and a little frowny smiley face next to it) and recalibrates again.

It turns its back to the viewer and starts walking again, this time seemingly hitting the wall in the back. It recalibrates again, then turns to the right and starts walking again. After a few seconds it stops briefly, two exclamation marks appear next to it along with a beeping noise, then it quickly walks out of frame.

[cametotheshowinsd]

Who would you be sad with? And who would you deal with when they were sad? Grey skies every day for months, would you still stay?

[stairset]

I think the portrayal of Spider-Man 2099 in Across the Spider-Verse is in-character in that aside from like Shattered Dimensions he's always been portrayed as a bit of an asshole who slips into anti-hero territory at times and generally has a "needs of the many over the needs of the few" mindset and given his specific circumstances in the movie it's not unreasonable to think he could take the actions he does. However it does kinda suck that since like 99% of moviegoers had no idea who he was before the movie came out their first impression of him is when he's in an antagonistic role and people think "antagonist" and "villain" are synonyms so now I'm gonna have to listen to people who've never read a comic saying he's a villain or isn't a real Spider-Man for the rest of time or at least until he inevitably changes his mind in the third one.

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

Both my parents actually suffer from HORRID emotional dysregulation and are prone to snapping and going into rages. My sister is the same way tbh. I am now realizing this is why they are constantly baffled by the question of whether or not I am mad at them.

I don't have external meltdowns.

I could. I don't let it happen.

I keep my rage on the inside and stay pretty quiet about it. It's just as strong as theirs [physically shaking nose bleed from high blood pressure kind of bad], but like as a kid I saw how terrifying it was to be around [dad breaking dishes, mom putting our lawn chairs into walls] and I just internalized that I wasn't going to wear that anger on the outside.

So my mother genuinely cannot tell if I am just being quiet or if I am silently hearing the dial-up noises of pure rage. This has lead her to both making strong and confident statements like "You are a pacifist who would never hurt a fly U.U" but also acting like I am secretly dangerous maybe... It's because she has never seen me snap.

She knows what her temper is like [throwing chairs through walls], she knows what my father's temper is like [pick up child and toss out door], and she can tell I am being tested, but she doesn't know what happens when I snap or where that breaking point is.

Her -perhaps unhinged- solution to this, my whole life, has been to do things that should obviously enrage me or shut me down completely, like ignoring important boundaries, repeatedly, punishing me for expressing emotions or needs at all, etc... And then to constantly ask me if I am angry with her when I get too quiet [right after near directly telling me to shut up].

It has occurred to me now, they have never once seen me lose my temper, so they literally just can't tell if I am angry at them. My sister is easy, my mother fights and screams with my sister constantly, my mother understands this. My mother doesn't have any grasp of feelings or boundaries that are not screamed at her [apparently, and I fear my sister is the same way]. Her and my sister are close despite constant fucking fighting because they understand each other.

They are trying to get me to engage the same way and it is not working. I realize now that this has been hard for them.

I was so successfully taught to suppress my emotions, by being punished for any outburst, that rage quiet looks the same as any other kind of quiet from the outside. To them anyway.

I did tell her. For the record. I used my words. I did tell her very calmly that my response to rage, in order to avoid doing the things that terrified me as a child, was to simply leave [the autistic urge to GTFO]. When a situation or person causes too much of the dial-up rage noise, I simply extract myself from that situation, up to and including never speaking to a person again. I explained this calmly. I explained it calmly 100 times and I explained that I explain myself calmly as my rage response 1-5 [also pretty much every other negative emotion tbh], and I told her that what came next was me simply opting out and fucking off. I told her this. I couldn't understand why she never took me seriously, or why she never fucking understood.

I couldn't understand what made her like this.

But it's the same problem I have with everyone else multiplied by a factor of 10.

If I am explaining myself calmly, they can't understand that it's actually serious or that I am actually upset. ESPECIALLY because they read me as "female" and women "aren't that rational" so if I am not screaming and crying about something, which I never do, people assume I can't be upset and it isn't serious.

And then after having my boundaries ignored too many times despite having calmly explained how and why it's a problem [shaking inside or not]... I leave. I leave and everyone gets upset like this is unexpected behaviour, even though I told them 50 times that is how I would respond if they kept doing *the thing.*

And for neurotypical people especially, they are expecting there to be a disconnect between what someone says they need or feel and what their actually boundaries and feelings are, and they expect the latter to be demonstrated with emotions. Telling them bluntly you do not function that way somehow never helps?

My mother isn't just looking for normal yelling or a few tears to know I am serious, whether or not I do those either [I don't], she's looking for an explosion to know there's a problem at all.

Fucked if I know how she proceeds through life this way in general or if this is just her expectation of her own kids???

And I couldn't get why my mother couldn't read my emotions and didn't seem to think I have any. It's because she's testing for the rage limit to see where my 'actual' limit is instead of taking my word for it. Never the fuck mind that she could simply *not* test at my boundaries instead of letting me have them. Separate issue.

I couldn't figure out what made her *like this*

She's expecting me to throw a giant meltdown violent tantrum at people when I have 'actually' had enough. Maybe she got away with those being like 5'4" in another time, but I am the size of the average man, I do not get to have giant screaming rages, whether or not people perceive me consciously as a woman, and least of all because a lot of people -at least unconsciously- read me as 'masculine' or at least always "they guy" of the situation compared to all other women and some men [bigger stronger and more rational, more able to just absorb the damage and let it go so the less rational screaming/crying one doesn't have to be dealt with]. Even if it was in me to be willing to terrify people [usually never], there are such limited instances where it wouldn't just blow back on me. Potentially very dangerously.

I am going to be the quiet calm one. You are going to have to let me use my words, bitch.

So she kept ignoring my boundaries until I had to cut her out of my life, and she probably doesn't understand and probably thinks it feels sudden -after 36 long years of bullshit- abrupt and unfair.

But I told her hundreds of times.

I probably should have just screamed at her.

[duskholland]

entering my lover era.

[r0semultiverse]

Was Celia drunk as fuck or is this something supernatural?? 👀

Who the fuck is Jack?? 👀

Alice is such a delight, I love her!

Oof so one or both of them have trauma involving grandparents then.

I love Samama & Alice so much. 💜 They have a great dynamic!

Oh shit, right, Gwen is probably still getting over Mr. Bonzo too. 👀

"I just… I dunno. When I left the coffee shop, it felt like someone was following me."

Please don't take away Alice, she's one of my faves! I hope this post doesn't age poorly. Watch me have to quote this post very soon.

OH NO, is it that [ERROR] following her??? 😰

"Don’t joke about that, mate. I was dreaming about it all day." Okay, yeah, that's a creature.

Sam & Alice are both about to run into a creature... 👀

"Classifying unspeakable horrors all night for no discernible reason?" @/entities-of-posts & @/which-entity-this-post-serves is that you? :]

Hmm, now why is this episode called "marked?" I assumed Mr. Bonzo was gonna find his mark, but maybe Alice is marked by an entity/creature that was locked in the Magnus Institute?

"giving up the ghost" okay so someone saw an apparition? Honestly not sure what entity this episode is about so far.

It's giving The Corruption ✨🧟‍♀️⚰️ (maybe The Buried)

"It’s just that one of the graves had a body in that was too well-preserved for the age it should have been." 👀👀👀

This thing is about to jump out of the grave & run off, isn't it? 🏃‍♂️

"The back was completely covered in this complicated tattoo of a ship sailing across an open sea towards an open horizon." Peter Lukas?!?!?

Oh 100% The Buried, without a shadow of a doubt.

Lots of tattoo & carvings in walls imagery in this sequel prequel sidequel, isn't there? 👀

Hey wait, that's Ink5oul from episode 2, isn't it? 👀 Ink5oul definitely feels like a conduit or vessel for The Flesh or some other kind of entity.

Okay, there's something weird going on with this place, the salt water & waves near this cemetery are kind of seemingly enticing them to come drown in it's waters. In the very least it's messing with these guys' mental states! Pretty freakkyyyy! 👀🌊

Also the repeated emphasis on dreams is interesting this episode, wonder if that'll play a part in something later on. 👀👀

"If it’s any consolation, he’s with the sea now. The deep will care for his bones." I literally called it!!

I think Gordon Alan Johnson also wants to be with David. 👀🌊🌊

I think Gordon Alan Johnson also wants to be with David. 👀🌊🌊

I don't know, Gordie, I think you did it! Unless Ink5oul is collecting tattoos like an alternate universe version of the Leitner books. Wait yeah, what if the tattoos are like conduits for the entities of this world or even the original one? 🖌

Another way to look at this is asking... Is The Deep a new entity/fear or is it a servant of a fear like The Vast? I stg there was a colossal water monster at some point in The Magnus Archives!

Okay so yeah, there's already a precedent for this. Also feels like The Lonely, The Buried, The Corruption, The Vast, & maybe even The Flesh are all involved in this one though I don't know if Flesh (Ink5oul) is working with or against the other fears at this time.

Gwen, you can tell your coworkers what's wrong, oh my fucking god. Please. Celia, you have me so invested in whatever is going on with you.

Weird unexplained noise at 17:44 too as Celia enters the office. Wonder what that's all about, maybe it'll come up later on.

"He is one of our Externals." Okay; so, there's more of them & they have their own secret hitman title too!

Mr. Bonzo when he was on TV

"And they usually like it." I bet fear creatures do like it when you scream. That makes a lot of sense actually.

Also what's that weird "boowomp" noise as they're talking or is it just the OST? 👀

Is Gwen going to be turned into something not quite human at some point? Just throwing darts at a board with that speculation, but wouldn't that be wild?

Okay; so, these little digitized noises are absolutely important!

I wonder how many times & when people have lied so far throughout this season. 👁️👁️

[icewindandboringhorror]

Some (late) holiday photos of the boye~!

[ribbonpinky-art]

sideyshowy bobby

[vimbry]

"likes don't do anything" they do

"there's no algorithm" there is

"well nobody uses the for you tab" I do

"reblog all art and fics you see" there's no thought put into that. if this does work on people, then it's just pity engagement borne out of guilt rather than genuine interest, which is arguably worse than having none, because it's totally hollow.

[fbfh]

just woke up from a baby dream and I'm a sobbing wreck :) anyway Logan Huntzberger doesn't expect much from his future besides monetary success, partying, and a lot lot lot of sex. he definitley doesn't expect to look up one day and realize he's sharing a home, a life with someone. not only that, but he's the one that instigated it. he told you in college he didn't like you being around other guys. he stopped caring about the girls that he would go between, because now he just seems to care about you. everything else falls to the sidelines. so he comes back to his big fancy house after an important business meeting on the golf course, and he sees you there. some old sitcom is marathoning on tv, and you're wrapped up in fluffy blankets, hair up and out of your face. you look so cozy, so comfortable. you keep adjusting the blankets, fussing with them as you hum softly. he walks closer, overcome with a feeling of love and swelling pride and... paternal instinct he's never felt. your son Henry, just a month or two old is bundled on your arms. you look up at Logan and smile so warmly he could cry just from the look on your face when you see him.

"hi," you breathe softly. Henry's settled down, so you don't want to rile him up too much, but he's not all the way asleep.

"hey ace," he breaths, sitting next to you. he wraps you in his arms and kisses you, meeting forgotten as you both admire you baby boy together. you rub his tummy gently, soothingly, and Logan smooths his hair. it's short and fuzzy, and a little prickly. it makes him laugh softly. Henry is wearing the white and blue onesie Honor got for him at the baby shower. he makes a mental note to take some pictures to send her of him wearing it. the soft fabric of his polo shirt and the smell of his cologne mixed with the distinct remnants of golf course air is so comforting. he watches you admire your son, trace the shape of his cute little nose, copy the faces he makes, babble little noises at him. he watches you smooth his hair and help him get comfortable in your arms, watches you place your finger in his hand so he can hold onto it with that surprisingly strong baby death grip. Henry wiggles around, getting comfortable in your arms, and you kiss his forehead again. once you're sure that he's settled, not too warm and not too cold, comfortable and lying safely, you can finally relax. you rest your head on Logan's shoulder, closing your eyes and finally letting yourself relax and rest a little. you take in a big deep breath of his masculine scent, somehow both spicy and refreshing, and sigh. you're content. you're more than content, he realizes. you're happy. Logan... made you happy. he found out what you wanted and built you a life you want, a life he wants. it hits him like a ton of bricks in one overwhelming, amazing moment, and he soaks in the feeling, watching the way your sleeping babys face and yours mirror each other.