#existence has failed

[larabar]

recent things. metal is roboticized sonic theory is my everything btw

[canisalbus]

I've been following you for years, and I love your art. Seeing you repost your older art pieces reminded me how much I loved the angry, bitter, miserable Machete art and how it resonated with me... but a part of me is also so happy to see the current art of him being happy. Cute art of him as a unicorn, or chilling in a bathtub with Vasco. Like, we're all growing and healing :')

[fireyartccoon]

ok so I might’ve forgotten to get something ready for Wednesday BUT-

you can have Nine and Chaos Sonic from my Sonic Prime AU being siblings instead

[sergle]

what I was talking abt earlier. we have fully looped back around and away from feminism, societally, whereas before it was very Feminism 101 to acknowledge that many parts of existing as a woman in a misogynistic society are painful and upsetting. not that being a woman is Inherently Negative in a bubble. but that living on this earth, in the conditions we're living in, is hostile to women. and that gender is a performance. that many of the Staples Of Femininity as accepted by society are things that you have to create and perform and mold artificially and aren't inherent, that COMPLAINING about day to day difficulties of existing as a woman is something that you're allowed to do. acknowledging these basic, again, feminism 101 things, that something tied to womanhood is more time consuming or more expensive or more dangerous Because Of The Problems. does not CREATE the problems. that when women complain about having to perform femininity, they are not, in fact, oppressing themselves. the call does not come from inside the fucking house. saying that you HAVE suffered does not fucking equate that you believe you SHOULD have suffered.

like I could talk about this for hours. how braindead and one-dimensional the Takes are getting. "being a woman is looking in the mirror and going fuck yeah i'm a woman" damn. I guess any negative experiences you have by living in a misogynistic world... are your fault if you are anything but positive? "you don't actually want liberation" we've fully gone back to telling feminists "you WANT to be oppressed" when anything negative about our society is pointed out. it's not real until I say it out loud, I guess, and then I'm actually the one who caused it. if anybody expresses any unhappiness with how they're treated or the status quo or the language and culture surrounding womanhood and femininity. they've created it, right that second. they invented it just now. it wasn't a problem before somebody complained, right? also trans women aren't braindead zombies who just follow the flow of whatever cis women around them say. I am pretty fucking sure they are very much aware of pain, and are MORE than aware of the swirling torrent of misogyny and standards of femininity than anybody else. actually. and I am pretty sure someone complaining on tumblr that being a woman means always putting on a performance is going to make someone change their mind about transitioning. also "performing femininity" as a necessity to being treated well as a woman is not fucking NEWS to your Local Trans Woman. I AM PRETTY SURE SHE GETS THE CONCEPT. using trans women as a scapegoat for this braindead perspective on gender politics is spineless, meritless, and pathetic.

[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.

[yonemurishiroku]

I don’t even need Nico to fight Zeus. I can settle with just Nico, calm and unafraid, looking right into Zeus’ freezing blue eyes, saying “You’re scared of me.”

[s-aint-elmo]

put marcille donato in the 21st century and she could bust out unsubstantiated slash fanfiction like nobody's business

[bluecubeblues]

★ PREV | FIRST | NEXT ★

[markantonys]

it continues to baffle me how many readers advocate for the show entirely cutting the andoran succession arc, aka elayne's ONE big Main Character storyline that she leads herself (vs. being a sidekick in nynaeve's storylines). what would you do if i started advocating for cutting mat forming the band of the red hand? you wouldn't be so happy about that, would you? well, that's the equivalent of what you're suggesting for elayne, just gutting her entire arc and reducing her to a secondary character.

some readers really need to learn that "i don't like this storyline" doesn't automatically equal "this storyline is just unimportant filler that can and should be cut from the show" (and that "i like this storyline" doesn't automatically equal "this storyline is crucial to the series as a whole and the show will be unwatchable if it's cut")

[viralarcadian]

[mishy-mashy]

Obviously, I can't ignore the funny pics of AFO either

AFO getting insulted for the first time on the web be like:

He looks like his fingers would be flying across a keyboard if he were on the internet.

AFO went and made himself into a troll face, man.

"MOMMY LOOK AT WHAT I FOUND!"

YEAH BOY, YOU LOOK REAL WEIRD BUT YEAH! RAISE YOUR TROPHY

MA! AN ALLIGATOR GOT INTO THE TRAILER AGAIN!

AFO's that arm being pummeled into the ground.

[All Might Doesn't Know How to Fucking Hold Back Against Kids: Case 47]

Feat. Accidentally twink-ifying AFO to the point he's become a twig

NEWS: AFO fails again, "Desperately trying to play it cool", All Might says, for at least the 3rd time in this fight

AFO tried being so cool with the "Shigaraki—my other self" and failed instantly. Livestreamed all over the world. Ugggghhh. The embarrassmenttt

Proceeds to split his face to smile, saying "I'll have to do the legwork myself".

As if to them, he didn't just go "Watch me do this. Come now, my other self. ........ I'll have to do it myself."

"Look how cool I am" *fails* "I CAN DO IT PROPERLY I MEAN IT"

He flip-flopped so hard here that if it were me, I'd give All Might the finishing blow to end me of my embarrassment. The world saw it. My life is over

AFO's ego is just so big and he's trying so hard to play it cool and keep his pride in his fight.

As if he hasn't been running around half-naked in a cape this whole time

[idk-bruh-20]

Irondad fic ideas #119

We've all seen the fics where the Rogues return and immediately assume that Peter is Tony's son, leading to a "prank" where Tony and Peter "act" like father and son (they soon realize they barely have to act, cue feelings)

Now, a fic that is a twist on that old favorite.

The Rogues return, and they quickly figure out that Peter is not Tony's biological son, that he started as an intern and as Spider-Man but the two have grown closer since then. The Rogues assume that Tony has never told Peter how much he cares about him. They believe Tony is too emotionally constipated, and that Peter must still think he is "just an intern"

However, in assessing the situation, the Rogues have failed to account for some pretty vital facts: 1) the amount of time that has actually passed, and 2) the fact that Tony Stark would do just about anything, even face and overcome his childhood programming, for Peter Parker

Peter and Tony have known each other for two years now. They have already had all the emotional conversations. Peter sees Tony as a father, and Tony sees Peter as a son, and the whole Ironfam knows it. No one is in the dark about what's going on.

...except the Rogues.

When Peter and Tony realize that the Rogues immediately assumed Tony is emotionally incapable, they decide to prank them by seeing just how long they will keep believing that

Around the Rogues, Peter calls Tony "Mr. Stark," and Tony pretends to be a stone cold bitch (even while "subtly" remaining a helicopter parent). Back on their own floor of the tower, Peter switches easily between "Tony" and "Dad," they have movie nights where they fall asleep on the couch together, and dinners with Pepper, May, Rhodey, and Happy.

The Rogues decide they need to help Tony and Peter realize their feelings. This goes on for a long time.

Then, one day, Peter gets hurt. Bad. Maybe he gets hurt as Spider-Man, maybe it's a kidnapping or hostage situation. One way or another, he ends up calling out for his dad.

The Rogues all hold their breath, expecting Tony to be stunned, to freak out and go hide in his lab. But Tony doesn't even blink. He comforts Peter, holds onto him, promises that he's safe

Finally, it becomes clear that the Rogues... might have misjudged the situation. Just a bit.

[jackdaw-and-hattrick]

What’s with the trend in comics of Jason going on this long, insightful rant on Bruce’s behaviors and shortcomings only for B to respond like “but murder bad” and that’s considered a valid counter argument?

[hwaitham]

the four scars on boothill’s torso . . 🥺 he vrie easily could get them filled n polished or the affected plates simply replaced to make it look like he never got ‘ injured ‘ , but . . . i personally think he likes keeping them to serve as a reminder of his humanity 🥺🥺

[mx-myth]

WIP Wednesday with the amnesia!dfs au again! Going to be honest, I don't have any other WIPs, so I hope even though they all come from the same piece that everyone enjoys these. (It's fifteen thousand words now...)

“Hey,” He rasps. Fang Duobing looks down at where he’s touching his wrist. “It’s fine.” “It’s not fine!” He shouts. He flinches back. The immediate and guilty flash of pain on Fang Duobing’s face makes him grip his wrist tighter. “The first thing I see is you, collapsing onto my feet, nearly naked and paler than a corpse! Do you know what I thought?! I thought you were dead, A-Fei! Dead!” He bends over him, eyes squeezed shut, and he realises that he’s worried. For him. “When we found you,” He whispers, “You were about to be married to a ghost bride. I paid ten thousand taels for you.” His face forms a snarl. “I will drink Meng Po’s soup before I ever goddamn lose you.” He reaches up to touch Fang Duobing’s cheek in wonder. He really is staking a claim on him, he thinks. Some part of him basks in this crude, animalistic idea. Unthinkingly he tilts his chin up, baring his neck as he looks at him challengingly. “What did I mean to you?” He asks roughly. “What did you mean to me?” This close he can see Fang Duobing’s throat bob as he swallows. He can see how his lashes tremble as he holds himself back, as all of his emotions roil behind his eyes. “I couldn’t tell you,” He says. He chokes, pressing his forehead against his temple. “I really can’t tell you, A-Fei. I don’t know how to.”

[chandralia]

absolutely obsessed with the class being set up in a VR simulation that temporarily erases their memory, and watching bkdk fall for each other in every scenario…