#creative destruction

[coloursoflovelustlife]

OTHER GALAXIES

40 x 80 cm

[available]

Turned out a bit wild.

[cruisingxdystopia]

GLITCHTOBER PROMPT: INTRICATE

[immaculatasknight]

Phoenix's come home to roost

[daveinediting]

In a second I'm gonna get to the concept of creative destruction which is an economics riff on evolution that made me think of that poster I saw the other day about Battlestar Galactica's ultimate killer robots: Cylons.

(The image I found online crescendos with Bender from Futurama which I think is absolutely classic 🤣🤣🤣)

The idea I'm trying to sculpt is tricky because I want to balance an approach that emphasizes how we may be at the start of losing something we don't wanna lose... with an approach that sounds a bit like articulating the economic concept of creative destruction in which new innovations replace and render obsolete old innovations. Gone, for example are horse & buggies, tube television sets (the ones with the antennae), transistor radios, typewriters, and dedicated mp3 players. Travel agents are not the deal they used to be. Neither are incandescent light bulbs, film cameras, letters in the mail, landlines, and so on.

Is any of that a big deal in the long run?

And does anyone still care?

I'm trying to balance the idea that we may be about to lose something we don't wanna lose with an idea that because it's being replaced, it's being replaced by something better.

Better?

Hmmm.

Now why... am I trying to balance these two perspectives?

Because creative destruction in the free market is one thing. But as shuttered industries then corporations then businesses then mom 'n pops give way to shuttered parts of the human brain... 

And as we bear witness to what  replaced those industries, those corporations, those businesses, those mom 'n pops...

We have yet to understand—not only the business and professional and job implications of tech replacing what our brains do—we have yet to understand the implications of our brains doing less, operating at superficial capacity on a daily basis.

I don't think we have a model for this. I don't know if we have a model for this. After after all, who are we if not sentient beings? Who are we if not thinkers? If not figure-outers? If not the perpetually curious? How else do we navigate our relentlessly changing world if it's not by thinking our way through it? 

Who are we as we offload more and more of what we would otherwise use our brains for?

And what is it exactly that'll atrophe as we do?

Yeah.

It's just that easy to go down the existential sky is falling rabbit hole.

It's just that easy to call into question, well, everything.

This does, after all, involve replacing some or much or all of what we use our minds for and it's hard to imagine that doesn't have some kind of consequence.

Especially once I start thinking about how my brain works.

[waywardsou2]

Drunk!Logan x Drunk!Male Reader

This was supposed to be kinda smutty but it ended up being kinda sad. If you want to see part two with some actual NSFW themes then let me know in the comments, because I feel like I can go somewhere with this.

Summary: Life is shitty being a mutant, and it's even shittier when you can't save everyone. So where do you turn? The bar, to drink away the pain and forget for a few hours. Unfortunately for you, someone decided to keep you company.

Word Count: 1k+

Tags: alcohol, bar fight, suicidal ideation, self-hate, self-esteem, worthlessness trauma

It had been a rough week, the missions got difficult and sacrifices had to be made. People were lost. But its part of the job right? That shit always happens. Well tonight you just couldn’t stand it, the knowing that there were people you couldn’t save. Families who were missing loved ones, because you weren’t fast enough.

It made you sad, but it mostly made you angry. At least that’s how you presented it to the world. And that’s how you presented it to Logan, the man who had followed you to the bar. You didn’t know why. If he cared, you didn’t want his pity. If he was here for a drink why couldn’t he have gone somewhere else.

Big scary Logan, The Wolverine. What did he need to sit here and drink about, especially where you were trying to get shit faced before you had to see Charles the next day.

“Can’t you drink somewhere else?” you say to him, your words already slurred from the bottle you had almost finished emptying.

“Nope” he said flatly as he sat down on the stool next to you, ordering a round of shots for himself.

You rolled your eyes, either this guy was dense or just an asshole.

“Oh Logan is too high and mighty to go drink somewhere else because I would rather get shit faced alone than with company” you say

The bar was empty, but it didn’t really matter much, you weren’t going to keep your voice down even if there were people in here. Something about him was just rubbing you the wrong way. You didn’t know whether it was the alcohol, the pain of your supressed emotions or just the fact that Logan never bat an eye at you despite how much you tried to show him you had value to the team.

“Yeah basically”

Your anger gets the better of you at his sarcasm and you shove him, he leans away, almost spilling his drink. He downs it and turns to you

“Are we gonna have a problem, bub?”

“I don’t know, are we?” you retort

“You want to do this here? Now?”

“What to scare to make a mess? Afraid you’ll hurt me? Guess what asshole I’m-“

But he didn’t get to hear what you are because he shoved you back, standing up from his seat as he pushed you off yours and onto the ground. Your back hit the wooden floor and you hear the bartender sigh.

You watch as he walks away from the counter and into the back.

You glare up at Logan, lips peeled back in a snarl. But before you could stand up, he was grabbing you by the collar of your shirt and pulling you up from the ground. He was taller than you slightly so he could lift you off your feet.

“You think your funny with a smart mouth like that, well I got news for you, it’ll be no good for anything if you keep running it off”

You tried to shove him off of you but you couldn’t bring up enough force with your feet barely touching the ground.

“Let go of me!”

“Are going to calm down?”

“That depends, are you going to keep pushing me around?”

He dropped you and your knee buckled a little bit at suddenly having to take weight again.

“You pushed first” he muttered going to sit back down

“And I’m going to push last”

You swing at him, a sloppy, open swing, unlike your usual bullet-like punches. Before you could even make contact with Logan he spun around and pushed you to the floor again, clambering on top of you. His claws out. The outermost ones were jammed into the floor creating a fracture in the wood from the force, the middle was still retracted, barely peeking out of the gap in his skin just above your neck.

Instead of feeling fear at the threat you laugh. Like him, you had super regeneration so him stabbing you was no real threat. Not to mention you had carbon fiber steel for skin. He shoves his face in yours and growls

“What the fuck is your problem” he spits

Both of you have drunk enough, you're both rearing for a fight and the only person you have to take it out on is each other.

Logan is pissed, he doesn’t get you. You spend every mission jumping into dangerous situations and then you come to the bar every night to come back drunk. Do you have a screw loose or are you just that stupid.

Even as he looks at you with his brow furroed and his claws at your throat you continue to laugh.

“Go on then, slice me open. Maybe we’ll both feel better afterwards” you laugh again but pain stings at your eyes as tears well up.

If only you could just die, make a sacrifice worth something like everyone else. Maybe then the pain will stop, maybe then you won't spend every night pitting yourself, maybe you won't be the cause of any more loss because you just weren’t good enough.

Logan pauses, ready cut you to ribbons but your statement makes him freeze. He knows that tone, the mirth. The self-deprecation and pain in your words. He doesn’t need to be like Charles to know what’s going on in your head.

“What. Are. You. Waiting. For?”

Before Logan could answer or move you grip his wrist pulling it out of wooden floors and slam his fist into you chest.

But there are no blades, no blood and not cuts. Just the knuckles of his fist thumping into your chest. It only throbs in pain, no damage done.

“Fuck you” you say bluntly and shove him off of you, pushing him away and standing up. He’s left speechless watching as you stand up, down the rest of the bottle and one of his shots. Pull out some crumpled notes and storm off, walking out into the night.

Let me know if you want part 2 and I take request for as well so check me out @waywardwritesstuff for my request info.

(Psst you can find part 2 here)

[thecrankyprofessor]

That's New York City for you - if you don't accept creative destruction you should stay away from old photos.

The old Waldorf-Astoria on 34th St. and Fifth Ave., 1923. It was demolished to make way for the Empire State Building.

Photo: Irving Underhill via MCNY

[feroluce]

So I spoke somewhat about my thoughts on Emanator Sampo here, but I never really thought of it from a design point of view or what kind of powers he would have until just recently. But I actually kind of love leaning into it from a "stage hand" perspective?

Because like. Aha's body in THEIR official art is completely black, giving attention to all the fun brightly colored things around THEM. And that's so fitting for Sampo! He usually prefers to be a side character. He likes to act from the shadows. His is a much more subtle hand.

So I wonder if as an Emanator, a lot of his clothes are actually very dark? Not necessarily plain, still extravagant and needlessly detailed in things like cut and quality with lots of different fabrics and textures and ornamentation, but dark. Or maybe even his skin itself becomes blackened further down his body; his hands in particular are dark, as a sort of sleight of hand reference.

The motif of a lot of straps wrapped around him like in his canon design is still present, but they're all loose and flowing off of him like paper streamers now instead of restraining him or holding him together. He is no longer contained! Or maybe they're still a bit more rigid/heavy, but just draped more like red stage curtains!

And this is like. Fully self-indulgent, but I love inhuman designs, and there's nothing in canon to say I can't do this, so screw it! Go for broke!! Maybe it's not visible to normal people, but Sampo having a second set of arms would be really cool, as further sleight of hand reference. One set is almost normal looking, but his hands are a bright, attention-drawing white, and the other is dark, set almost in the shadows of the first arms, to act less noticeably.

He also has something of a broken heart design to him in canon (the front of his black shirt with its jagged shape down the middle; his coat looks like a full heart shape in the back), and I actually like him keeping that element as an Emanator, because I think it suits him. Sampo says his taste in aesthetics and views on Elation involve human dignity,

and the story he helps create in Belobog involves the long and winding road of resistance and survival and eventual triumph in the face of some very adverse, oppressing odds. (I'm pretty sure I heard he once called Wildfire "artless" though, plus the man acts like he thinks Shame is some kind of dessert, so like ndkdjzjskkd) But the point being!!

I think Sampo is someone who can appreciate heartbreak and angst and tragedy in a story, because it makes the victory at the end all the sweeter. And this would be another thing he shares with Aha, because I think THEY did bless the Mourning Actors partly just to be a little shit, but also because Aha does recognize tragedy as part of THEIR Path, too, and you can see it in some of the game. So a broken heart motif can still suit him, and I like him having elements of both comedy and tragedy. Like his clothing having a happy sun/sad moon (like the moon in Aha's art) or him having both of the traditional comedy/tragedy masks in his design.

And as Emanator, Sampo can maybe play with the stage settings environment, too. Like lights sometimes behave strangely around him, appearing blindingly bright to someone or dramatically dark. Sampo wills it and suddenly there seems to be a metaphorical spotlight right where he wants everyone to look. And when he doesn't want to be noticed, his face seems to be cast in shadow, he seemingly just fades into the background, no one notices or recognizes him and he sneaks away easily. He can create smoke or fog literally out of thin air without his bombs now, too, the air will just suddenly thicken until his stage is obscured, and Sampo can set the scene as he pleases or disappear without a trace.

And in line with being a stage hand, Sampo can direct attention like no other. He was already extremely good at this as a normal mortal, and becoming an Emanator only took it up to 11, past human limits. Sampo points, and all present feel compelled to follow his fingertip. He looks away, and they all follow his gaze. He can even affect the mood of an audience; he can influence everyone to be calm and placid or he can whip them into a feverish frenzy. Sometimes a crowd will start to become unsettled, agitation stirring until it boils over, until it incites a full on violent mob.

And in the middle of all that chaos will stand one perfectly calm figure, face cast in shadow, until they quietly slip away out of sight.

[clownsuu]

Small detour of what I usually post, but I absolutely wish (other) clown the best of luck during these confusing and almost hopeless times- nobody knows how to deal with such amount of attention in such short amount of time- a blessing and a curse to behold

[sunnynwanda]

Hero groans, peeling their eyes open. The world is upside down and swaying, red lights flashing around them. They try to take a deep breath, but their ribcage hurts like a bitch, ripping a strangled moan from their dry lips. Pain pulses through every little nerve in their body, the damp air making their nostrils flare and toes curl.

Hero grits their teeth, taking several shallow breaths to calm themself and focus. They try to turn around, but the chains around their middle forbid the movement, their back flush against something. Or someone.

Villain.

They finally register that they're chained back to back and hanging upside down. This could only mean one thing - they know. And whoever they are doesn't matter because Hero and Villain are screwed regardless. They got caught, and judging by the fact that Villain is chained up too - this won't end well. Before they can think of any way out, a choked whimper tears from Villain's throat, making Hero's entire body shudder.

"Shh, you're okay," they try to sound as confident as possible even though they cannot see what state Villain is in. Something tells them it's for the better that they can't. "You're okay. I'm here."

"How is that any better?" Villain croaks out, struggling against the restraints. Hero stills, gulping thickly. They need to think of a solution, and they need it now.

"At least you're not alone?" Hero suggests in an attempt to sound lighthearted - all the while searching for ways to get out before Villain starts losing it.

"I'd much rather have you come to save me, not be trapped here with me," Villain comments in a deadpan voice. Hero chuckles, leaning their head back against Villain's shoulder.

"Too bad I cannot breathe without you right by my side then," they smile, keeping their voice soft despite the physically straining position. Their head is threatening to explode, pulse pounding against their temples.

"Not the time, Hero," Villain would glare at them given a chance. Or yell at the gods above and curse fate for creating Hero the way they are and having them fall for the worst option possible. The worst option being Villain.

"It's always the time to be romantic," Hero counters, trying to diffuse the tension. They search for Villain's hand and interlock their fingers, squeezing them for grounding.

"All I see is red lights..." Villain groans, a rumbling sound flooding their hearing. They can feel the vibration in their bones, the power surging in their chest, blocking their throat.

"Vil, close your eyes," Hero says, their demeanour shifting to pure urgency - they need to move fast. "You hear me?"

Villain obliges, closing their eyes to dissociate from the flashing lights, the colour evoking the primal rage within them. They don't want to let it flow, especially not with Hero nearby.

"Who is it?" Hero asks in a doomed attempt at distraction. "Your agency or mine?" They press back, hoping that the full-body contact will tame the beast that is their secret lover. Well, it's not so hidden anymore, it seems.

"Both," they can sense the difference in Villain's voice, their tone having gone from concerned to eerily serene. "I... need you to hold me back," Villain mutters under their breath. "They won't survive me."

"I know, baby," Hero finally manages to free a hand, now working faster, frantic in the face of the impending catastrophe. "Give me a second. I'll get you out..."

"I'm losing..." Villain pleads, their eyes filling with tears until they drip over their cheeks, leaving watery trails behind.

"No, no," Hero protests, lifting themself up to loosen the chains around their ankles. Their body drops to the ground with a loud thud, the fall rattling their broken - and most likely dislocated - ribs. They spring to their feet, glancing around for means to free Villain. "I'm here.. Come on, we gotta get out of here."

Hero gently lowers them to the ground before lifting them to their feet and draping Villain's arm over their shoulders. Just as they are about to escape, the door swings open, allowing a group of both their former teammates to flood the place.

Villain's eyes widen in pure terror - except it's not fear for their life. Oh, no. It's fear of the damage they can inflict. The harm they can do once they...

Too late.

"I've already lost control," Villain mutters, their lips shaking uncontrollably. They try to pull away when Hero's hand wraps around their neck, forcing them to meet their gaze. But this time around, Hero doesn't try to hold them back. They don't try to stop or control the vicious force lurking beneath the surface. Instead, they caress Villain's face in a tender gesture before whispering with a tinge of twisted pleasure. "Wreck them."

Masterlist

A/N: Hi loves!

Today's my birthday so I figured I should do something for my favourite bunch xD Consider this an appreciation story because I am extremely thankful for this community in general and our little bubble that we've established here 🙏

Thank you for spending your time on something that means so much to me. Thank you for the love and support you offer me every day. Simply thank you.

Love you 💛☀️

xo Sunny

Taglist: @marvellousdaisy@alltimelowing@lateuplight@surplus-of-sarcasm@betwist @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @enemies-to-idiots-to-lovers @miaowmelodie @thatonerandomauthor @hhabaddon @burningoutlikeicarus @daemonvatis @weepingcowboywolfbat @thelazywitchphotographer @kaiwewi @soul-of-a-local-bard @pigeonwhumps @aflyingsheepnamedrose @thatneptune @ohwellthatslifesstuff @worldsfromhoney @thiefofthecrowns @crow-with-a-typewriter @qualityrabbitsoup @stargeode @villain-life @villainsblood @whumpifi @glassthedumbass @silviathebard @misskowe @ayeshaturnedtoashes4444

@m4iloblu3 @silky-worm @doctorsawyer @philosophershroom

[chaoticjestervibes]

Cant forget that one person who is in the process of figuring out an OC!

Every damn time you post AVA/M shit it makes me want to work on my human designs again grrrrrrrrr

Me and you be like-

[coloursoflovelustlife]

The

WILD

thing, still in the making.

[cruisingxdystopia]

Glitchtober Prompt: WEAVE

Give me credit or give me death. ©Leigh Phillips, aka

[insightfulcorner]

I am a master of self destruction,

But not in the ways you think at all,

I dance on a stage of nails while they applaud,

And I bow before I fall.

[immaculatasknight]

Meet the intellectual dark web

[ferrouswheel11]

Like. Tim was supposed to be the level-headed Robin. Quick thinker, emotionally stable, Batman’s right hand. He gets kidnapped by Joker, and Bruce tells himself he’ll save him this time. It’s not going to be like Jason. Tim is nothing like Jason.

He’s right.

Tim doesn’t want to be saved. He shoots Joker dead and laughs.

Bruce tries to bring him home but Tim doesn’t want to go. He looks so much like Joker, with his skin smeared oily white and the corners of his lips pulled taut. But the sharp way he talks is just so familiar, so Tim, like Bruce could just reach out and grab him and pull his Robin back to the surface — if Tim wasn’t already cackling and slipping away into the shadows of the abandoned asylum.

The next time he sees Tim, the boy is having the time of his life, leading the GCPD all over town on a wild goose chase involving copious amounts of fireworks, laughing gas, and awful puns.

Gothamites are relieved — the villain that terrorized their city is dead, traded in for a cuter, less-bloodthirsty-but-equally-maniacal version. He’s equal parts scary and charming — even Nightwing looks conflicted for a moment when Tim plants a red lipstick mark on his cheek and sets off a glitter bomb in his face.

He’s happier now, he insists. Robin was great and all, but this is tons more fun. Why was he holding himself back for so long? He used to think every responsibility he took on was so important, that he was saving Gotham — all Gotham really needs is a good laugh!

…And don’t call him Junior, he informs Bruce, gesturing with the gag gun he used to kill Joker. The Joker is back, and he’s here to stay.

[magpiecrust]

Character who is sun-coded but not in the traditional "ray of sunshine" way. Character who is sun-coded in the sense that they're revered by the masses but their light is blinding, poisonous fire that destroys everything unshielded. In the sense that they force everything into an orbit around them. In the sense that they seduce Icaruses to fly too close to reach their light and be burned, but they don't care. In the sense that for all their fiery blaze, they're destroying themselves with it. In the sense that they run hotter as they grow older, but instead of going out in a blaze of glory that takes everything down with them like they might have wanted to, they just fizzle out and fade away. In the sense the rest of the world will outlive them.