#and they are in doomed horrible love

[makesyouevil]

secret meetings 🖇️

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

"You and me, Ethan. Together we go save Rose, and then we can grind Miranda into paste!"

[ohitslen]

Sketch dump :)

[obiiow]

I know the whole thing with eren growing his hair out was because he just didn’t care anymore but I like to think it’s because his mom always told him his ears turn red when he lies and he was about to spend the rest of his life lying to everyone he loved 🥹

[nataliesscatorccio]

YELLOWJACKETS

[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.

[ciearcab]

incredibly self indulgent scribbling,,, these two are my favorites i wish we got to see more of them together

[lazycranberrydoodles]

BEEF EEF!!!!!

follow to put more gods into cute outfits 🌸

[d-alva45]

They'd have a horrible relationship

[galactic-rhea]

[ID: Screenshot of a chat that says "just leave my queen alone, she's already suffered enough. She wanted a life with her malewife murder monk pilot mechanic racer and you should respect her for that!]

It's Padmé defending's hours for me

I have been seeing more negative (with very weird connotations, tbh) posts about Padmé on my dash lately, and while I'm a firm believer of the "scroll past it" rule, it really irks me a lot because MOST of these takes sound a bit mysoginistic to me and also (to me) shows a lack of trying to understand her as a character, not in a "you don't get her" way, but in a "you don't even try to understand the character and her context in the damn story just because you wanna sound holy than thou" way.

I'm all for accepting takes about Padmé's flaws or having a slightly more privileged/closed view (and that makes sense, she's aristocracy) but these people are SO WEIRD whenever they wanna talk about her 🤨

I'll forever mad that George eliminated SO MANY scenes with Padmé in the movies, but I feel like even if we had those scenes, people's complaints would be exactly the same.

But also i think half of the time people fail at understanding Padmé is because they're also failing to understand Anakin's as a character, idk

[tiptoethewordsgo]

so these panels actually killed me!

[hanzajesthanza]

geralt is also a most real depiction of good quality fatherhood and great girldad representation because EVEN THOUGH witchers don’t even experience aging at the same rate as non-GMO humans, EVEN THOUGH it would be “biologically impossible,”

geralt having had been raising a pre-teen girl for maybe a few months to a year already “gave the impression of having aged,” his “face slashed by wrinkles.” the emotional toll on this man from raising she-devil ciri

and this is only the very beginning of the saga. BEFORE everything goes to shit. the wrinkles have set in

[vulturereyy]

i deleted this ask after screenshotting bc i didnt want to even give this the time of day but this is objectively the funniest anon hate i think ive ever gotten. i am holding this person in particular alone at gunpoint to see gay old man bugs. have u ever heard of muting tags and blocking people. you come to the lurimol coiner's blog and ask me to not post lurimol. death by 1 thousand suns blast

in conclusion, thanks to @salthien:

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Congrats on the followers Skye! :D You said you still had slots open for writing prompts, so can I ask for either something with dad squad, or your au which I forget the name of but Link’s dog’s name is Friend? Maybe some kind of hurt/comfort :)

-Sky Floor

Link knew better than to say things can't get much worse, but the thought tried to cross his mind.

With the amount of times he'd faced his mortality, he'd hardly ever feared death anymore. Sometimes he wondered if it would be a relief to actually die. Not that he'd actively pursue it, of course, but it seemed a passive companion he sometimes longed for and other times pushed away.

But either way - he certainly felt closer to it now than he had for many years.

Gritting his teeth, the former hero dragged himself up by a low reaching tree branch, gripping his sword with all the strength he could muster. The iron knuckle he was fighting marched towards him, enough weight in each step that he could hear its armor clanging across the field. The good thing about these cursed monsters was that they were slow, but after fighting a veritable army of stalfos, lizalfos, wizzrobes, and a boss fight against the corrupted wind dragon, he was reaching the end of his abilities. Honestly, the fact that this behemoth was so slow just made it seem like death was taking its time to claim him. It wasn't as if he could just flee - they were too close to a village, and this thing would kill everyone.

Not that it wouldn't kill them if he died, but... still.

Think, idiot! This isn't the time!

Link managed to roll just as the iron knuckle swung its heavy axe at him, allowing him to get close and chink away at its armor. He got behind it, bashing its helmet with his shield before his leg finally gave out, making him fall to the ground with a grunt.

The iron knuckle turned, its helmet half off, armor damaged, but axe still at the ready.

Link closed his eyes, overwhelmed with pain, bracing for the hit as he feebly held up his shield.

Instead, he heard a snarl and a crash. Opening his eyes, startled, he saw the iron knuckle on its side, having been hit at full speed by Friend, who had torn a path across the field, teeth bared. She gripped wherever her powerful jaw could clamp down, grasping at one of the iron knuckle's arms and tearing it off.

Letting out a relieved breath, he rolled over to get to the enemy and reached weakly for its axe so it couldn't retaliate. Friend beat him to it, ripping off the beast's other arm, growling the entire time as her fur stood on end.

The iron knuckle stopped moving, its armor crumbling to ash and malicious smoke, its helmet remaining.

Link let himself collapse entirely, gasping for air. Friend was in his face in an instant, licking him and whining. He didn't have the energy to reassure her, and she barked at him in protest of it.

Before he could do anything, his sweet companion was nuzzling at his pouch, grabbing it and bringing it to his hand. He smiled tiredly at her, feeling blood seeping out of multiple wounds as she moved to try and nurse them. He hissed when she licked at his leg, but he couldn't shoo her away. Instead, he sifted through his pouch, trying to find anything that could help. He wasn't entirely sure he was stocked up for a fight like this or not.

Eventually, his trembling hand found a cool bottle, and he pulled it out, seeing a red liquid inside. That was promising. He struggled to uncork it, so Friend moved up to him and pulled at the cork with her mouth, letting him get to the contents. After nearly choking down the potion, he let out a sigh of relief, smiling at her. "Thanks, girl."

Friend panted happily, tail wagging as she licked his face once more. Then she nipped gently at his tunic, pulling him along the field as he spluttered. "Friend, what are you—stop it—"

The chonk didn't listen, dragging him as he hissed over every rock and stick he ran over. Eventually he tried to right himself to at least crawl out of the open area, and Friend crawled under him whenever he was about to collapse, supporting him. By the time he reached the edge of the forest he was exhausted, huddling in on himself under a tree. Friend barked at him and then took off running, though he had no idea what she was up to. He glanced around blearily, but he saw no other signs of monsters.

That was good enough for him for now. He closed his eyes, trying to save his energy. He didn't realize he'd fallen asleep until he blinked his eyes open to see that it was dark. And entirely too quiet.

"F-Friend...?" he asked shakily, shivering and trying to sit up.

Where was she? Was she okay? What had happened?

"Oh my gosh, there he is!"

Link squinted, seeing Friend charging towards him with two people following her. They were both immediately recognizable, what with the girl's fancier fashion style and the boy's large stature.

Oh, great.

"'M fine," he immediately insisted. "Taking a nap. Go away."

"You're not fine, look at you!" Princess Zelda argued as she knelt down beside him. "Fancy Hands, pick him up, we have to get him to the village!"

Link glared at Friend while the Gerudo teenager sighed and complied. Traitor.

Friend wagged her tail happily in reply.

"Put. Me. Down." he immediately growled when the other Link tried to haul him over his shoulders.

"Well, you heard him, Princess," the Gerudo quickly said.

"My orders supersede his, pick him up!"

"I will gut you."

"Princess, he doesn't sound like he wants to be carried."

"I don't care what he wants! He's bleeding, he could be delirious!"

"I'm fine."

"He says he's fine."

"I heard him, knucklehead, I don't care!"

Link groaned as his world started spinning. This was getting tedious, and he was in pain. "Just leave me alone."

"Look," the masseur said. "If you don't want to be carried into town, at least let us help you here. I could go back and get supplies from the healer."

Link bit his lip. He didn't like it, but it was a far better option than letting himself be hauled around. "Fine."

The Gerudo nodded, rising, leaving the princess and the pup. Zelda looked him over carefully. "You really did take on that entire army by yourself, didn't you?"

Link stared at her uncertainly.

"That's... incredibly brave of you," Zelda continued. "A mark of a true Hero."

Oh, for Farore's sake. "No. I'm not the Hero."

"Oh, come on!" Zelda argued, putting her hands on her hips. "You definitely are!"

"They owed me money," Link grumbled in reply.

"That's a lie and you know it!"

The argument went back and forth for a few more minutes before Friend finally finished it by laying her entire head over Link's face, silencing him. He tried to protest, his voice muffled in her throat, making the princess laugh and exciting Friend. She licked his face, whining a little, pawing at him.

"I'm okay, Cupcake," he whispered tiredly. The edges of his vision were fading to black. Friend whined again.

"Don't worry, girl," Princess Zelda said gently, petting the dog. "We'll take good care of him."

Link found that he couldn't be annoyed anymore, snuggling close to his sweet dog and falling asleep as they awaited the Gerudo teenager's return.

[mwagneto]

15's "maybe i'm the bad luck" "i bring disaster" etc is soooo... sweetie don't say that😭 like it's true but don't worry about it💞

[mymarifae]

i just want to share my thoughts about akito and Death. because even now—even off the back of an event like burn my soul—people STILL talk about him like he's an explicitly depressed, suicidal character whose every action is cause for concern.

i think the idea that akito is suicidal has been floating around for a very long time. and while it's not entirely without merit (more on this in a bit), it's still a misconception. and it really feels like kashika exacerbated the issue. which is unfortunate! it's sad to see such a beautiful song be misinterpreted like this.

now don't get me wrong! kashika is about death. but two things:

1. kashika may have been written for akito, but it's not just for him. it's also deeply personal to ryo haruka. there are certainly similarities and haruryo undoubtedly understood everything akito felt during the events that led up to the crawl green incident, but i don't think it's entirely fair to equate his very real emotions and struggles to those of a fictional character. he and akito share kashika! you can interpret it through either lens, but trying to do so through both is where things start getting messy

2. whiiiiich leads me to my second point. who decided that the only way to interpret kashika and its themes of death is literally?

i think it's pretty common for people to automatically interpret any themes of death literally—or at least very negatively. we're naturally conditioned to fear death, and then we're taught to fear it even more. it's the change. it's the unknown. it's the very idea of an "end." most people aren't very fond of these things! understandably so. but personally? i think the symbolism that can exist behind death is beautiful.

Death is the 13th card of the major arcana. above all else, it symbolizes change (positive change; it's always, always about what's ultimately best for you). Death tells you it's time to move forward; this part of your life is done. there is more waiting for you—new opportunities, new experiences, a brighter, more fulfilling future—but you must be prepared to let go.

the habits and routines you have now? the mindsets that have kept you alive? your current sense of self? whatever it is, whatever Death is asking for, you have to let it "die." it won't serve you anymore. it will only drag you down. and it might be terrifying and you might not be able to comprehend what lies ahead and you might want to kick and scream and struggle, but you can't cling forever. endings are never easy, and sometimes they hurt like hell, but with each end comes a new beginning.

and yes if you've read burn my soul this should all sound very familiar lol:

looking at death from this perspective, kashika and the entirety of find a way out should read a lot more like akito caught on the cusp of a monumental transformation. suspended between "life" (the old) and "death" (the new) so to speak.

up to this point he's been fueled by spite and desperation. two very intense, very negative emotions—but it's an intensity that worked. everyone else on vivid street had years of musical experience, and he had 0. he needed to catch up and he needed to catch up quickly because it's not like he could put the whole world on pause. he could take his time to learn the basics, sure, but every other vivid street musician would continue improving and growing while he did that. there would always be a gap between him and Them.

unless... he worked harder—WAY harder—than all of them combined.

and maybe that wouldn't do it either. maybe he would be stuck in place forever, always playing catch-up, always struggling to stay afloat, always being left behind. he knew this. and he knew the amount of destruction he'd end up inflicting upon himself if he went down this path. but in his mind, it was okay. it was worth it. because he'd rather die endlessly pursuing what he loves most than live not trying at all.

but in find a way out, when facing off against his old bullies, he starts to realize that he was wrong. he's not just stuck in place. he bridged the gap a long time ago, and he almost didn't even notice. and where he's going now, spite and desperation are the wrong emotions to sing from. he needs to let the unhealthy, extreme mindsets die, but also it's hard to let go of something when you would have given up a long long long LONG time ago without it.

but with time, and enough poking and prodding from ken and luka, he does it. he lets go. he lets the old parts of him die, and he passes on to the next stage of his life.

akito's character arc has always been about growth. improvement. learning. Becoming Better. and not just in a musical sense although Yes That Is A Huge Part Of It. his arc is also about his growth as a person. it's about him becoming more confident, and learning how to be kinder and more patient with both himself and other people. it's about him learning how to let his walls down and let his loved ones in. and to trust that they won't start kicking him to death once they're in there.

it's about him learning to exchange the Spite and Desperation for Passion and Love.

it's about him becoming happier.

which is why it's so fucking startling when people talk about him like he's suicidal and on the verge of a breakdown. like, woah, what?

as i said though, kashika isn't the only source of this misconception and i find more merit in the other sources because they're actual aspects of his character and scenes in the story and not song lyrics that shouldn't have been read so literally in the first place. like, yeah. we've seen a ton of unhealthy behavior out of akito. he's had a very extreme perspective on his place in the world from a super early age, and while the severity frequently gets exaggerated in fanon spaces, the shinonome household isn't exactly sunshine and rainbows.

he's been moody, he's been prickly and abrasive, he's lashed out. he keeps most people at arm's length and builds walls so high not even toya can get through them at first. he had to! he wouldn't have survived if he didn't! like, he was targeted and bullied by a group of adults when he first started singing on vivid street. that is actually a genuinely traumatizing thing to happen to a kid!

so no, i'm not against the idea that akito has experienced depression and suicidal ideation in the past. kinda comes naturally with the territory he ended up in. but that's the key word: past.

i get confused when the idea is dragged into the present. because again! the whole point of his character arc is he's overcome all that PAST adversity! recovery isn't linear but we're not about to see him hit rock bottom any time soon. or ever, actually. you know why? because we've already seen his rock bottom. stray bad dog. that event was his big breakdown moment. that's what opened him up to try to start healing.

we're not getting another stray bad dog. stop expecting another stray bad dog.

he's alright, i promise. he's growing up. he's gotten better. he knows he belongs in vivid bad squad. he knows he's loved. he knows his friends will be there to catch him when he falls. he's always been strong, but now he's even stronger. he's excited for his future, and i think we should be too.