#when will your fav ever

[distortionstolemygender]

“Wipe away those tears of blood again…”

One of my fav Gerard stage looks ❤️

[tariah23]

The manga industry, especially JUMP, needs to hurry up and do away with weekly scheduling for mangaka. There needs to better regulations put into place for their health and safety because this is pitiful. Two weeks - monthly updates should’ve already been the standard for the manga industry at this point. These money grabbers will only continue to put the lives of these artists at stake for the sake of capitalism unless some serious changes are implemented.

[i-like-to-look-at-your-back]

Busy morning

Inspired by Mornings, With You (and coffee, too) by @lurethegalaxy

[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.

[halfstayed]

富察·容音 Fuca Rongyin from 延禧攻略 The Story of Yanxi Palace (2018)

TV APPRECIATION WEEK 2024 — free choice: favourite chinese period drama character

[tenrosedyke]

unbelievable caroline slay, getting kerry and sally-anne and marcia to all sit at the front together. united front of women wronged by logan roy. unironically one of the coolest and most powerful scenes of the ep lol, you're right!!! he would've hated it!!!!!

[rainbowresurrection]

Kinda got a love/hate relationship with the history of K/S because it's like. Can I please have a queer discussion about this 1960s television show without it being reduced to "shipper discourse". I thought Spock and Kirk were homo long before I knew that their characters spawned a fanfiction counterculture. The bisexual dude who wrote the episode that really kick-started the movement didn't know it was going to coalesce into the fan phenomenon that it did, he was just writing what he knew how to write best: the repression of burning male desire, and two dudes doing homoerotic shit. Can I just talk about the repressed burning male desire please, and the implications of a gay angle to Kirk and Spock's story, without it being referred to as shipper discourse. Can I do that. Does this make sense

[wojtekaneko]

While relistening to the final episodes I was overwhelmed with the urge to grab and shake Jon until hes making any sense. So not having any real Jarchivist around I was compelled (haha) to draw it.

bonus Jon closeups (+me)

[swordheld]

hi! your blog is one of my favourites and i absolutely adore reading your thoughts. my grandfather recently passed away and it feels like i lost myself with him. how do i continue living after this? there is this constant weight on my chest and it feels like an emptiness has made a home inside of me. how do i go on when it feels like the world crashed on my shoulders?

hello, love! this is so very sweet and kind of you, and i hope you're treating yourself gently and kindly right now - there aren't words for a loss like this. that heaviness is difficult, and hard, and painful. it's okay if things don't feel okay, right now, or even soon - i think that's something that a lot of the people i know that have gone through similar grief feel: like they should be able to get back to a relative 'normal' in a [insert far too short period of time].

but it's okay if it hurts. that's where i'd like to start. you're allowed to feel that emptiness, that world-crashed feeling that goes beyond words, beyond time. don't feel like you have to rush this to feel some sort of better. things get easier with time, i promise you this, but sometimes painful feelings are important to feel, too. cry, scream, feel your emotions. they're a part of you. grieve.

it's perhaps a little silly, but when i think about death i always think about a couple of space songs: mainly drops of jupiter by train and saturn by sleeping at last. there are perhaps others that speak to the emotions better, but these two have always hit something a little deeper for me, and are popular for a wide-reaching reason.

and while personally i don't know much about grief like this, i do know a lot about love; and i think they're a lot of the same thing.

the people we love are a part of us, and this is why it takes from us so deeply when we lose them, because it does feel like we've lost a part of ourselves in the wake of it. but it's because they were so central to our experiences of living - our lives, that the separation introduces a hollowness - a place where they used to be. a home that now goes unlived in.

an emptiness, like you said.

but just because they're not here physically, doesn't mean he's not still there, in your heart, in your life, your memory. you can hold him close in smaller ways, as well: steal a sweater, or cologne/scent for something a little more physical and long lasting for remembering. hold onto the memories you cherish, the things that made you laugh, the ease of slow mornings and gentle nights. write them all down, slide a few photographs in there, go through it and add more when you miss him. keep them all close, keep them in your heart.

you're not alone, in this. he's still there, with you, it's just - in the little things.

he's with you in the way you see and go about your daily life, in doing what he liked to do, in the ways he interacted with the world that you shared with him. the memories you recall fondly when the night is late or the moment is right and something calls it into you like a melody, an old bell, laughter you'd recognize anywhere.

but i think, perhaps most importantly above all others - talk about him. with your family, your friends, his friends, strangers; stories are how we keep the people we love alive. the connections they've made, the legacies and experiences they've left behind, and so, so many stories.

how lucky, we are - to love so much it takes a piece of us when they go. grief is the other side of the coin, but it does not mean our love goes away. it lives in you. it lives in everyone who knew him, in the smallest pieces of our lives.

the people we love never really leave us, like this: they're in how we cook and the way we fold our newspapers, our laundry, in the radio stations we tune in to and the way we decorate our walls, our photo albums. they're in the way we store our mail, organize our closets, the scribbled notes in the indexes of our books. the meals we love and the drinks we mix, the way we spend time with one another. they've been passed down for generations, for longer than history - and we are all the luckier for it.

think about what you shared with him, and do it intentionally. bring him into your life, like this, again. whether it's crosswords or poetry or sports or anything else. if one doesn't help, try another. something might click.

i hope things feel a little easier for you, as they tend to do only with time. i hope you find joy in your grief, even if it is small and hard to grasp at first. know that your hurt stems from so much love that there isn't a place to put it properly, and that it is something so meaningful and hurting poets and storytellers have been struggling to put it into words and sounds that feel like the fit right for eons, and that it is also just simply yours. sometimes things don't have to make sense. sometimes they just are - unable to be put into words or neat little sentiments, as unfair and tragic as they come.

but i promise it will not feel like this forever. your love is real. and perhaps, on where to begin on from here - i think it's less on finding where to begin and just beginning. and you've already started. you've taken the most important and crucial step: the first one. wherever you go, after that, from here? you'll figure it out. you always have, and you always do. it'll come, as things always do. love leads us, as does light - and you're never alone in your hurt. in your grief, your missing something dear to you. i think if you talk about it with others, you'll find they have ways of helping you cope as well - and they have so much love of their own to spare, too.

as an aside, here is the song (northern star by dom fera) i was listening to when i wrote this, for no other reason more than it makes me think of connections, and love, and how we hold onto the people we love and how they change us, wonderfully and intrinsically. it's a little more joyous than the others i've mentioned, and plays like a story, and it made me think of what is at the core of this, love and stories and i am here with you, and maybe it'll bring you some joy, if you'd like it. wishing you all my love and ease 💛

[aceofwhump]

I was thinking about this last night after I rewatched Recovery (cause I like pain I guess. That movie makes me sob so much. It's such a good movie but my god is it emotional) and you know what? David Tennant is the best at crying/emotional scenes. In my opinion no one compares to him. His acting is so visceral, so real, so heart wrenching it never fails to make me sob. He goes all in every single time.

I mean look at these examples from Doctor Who, Einstein and Eddington, There She Goes, Single Father, and Recovery. No one does sobbing like this man.

I mean his pain noises are also out of this world good but his sobbing/crying is unparalleled. I could watch this for days.

[cottoncandysprite]

Y'all ever look back and realize your least fav character in your fav show was actually the one most painfully similar to who you were when you first watched it

[lelalyo]

Ok but when I was fighting Haarlep, he kept running in circles in Raphael's room and everytime he'd run past Astarion, Astarion would perform an [opportunity attack]. It hit EVERYTIME but not just that, because Haarlep had his back to him, it always looked like Astarion was stabbing Haarlep in the ass which, I headcanon, is how Raphael even knew we were in his house.

Oh and Haarlep charmed Gale which, I gotta be honest, I was disappointed in our resident wizard. All it took was an incubus running around in his underwear to make him changed sides, can't believe it, Gale. After all the magical items I fed him - I thought we were friends, man. We cast a spell together once, GALE. Where's the loyalty? This ain't one off either, first it was the harpies, now Haarlep, where does the betrayal end?

[skitskatdacat63]

In the Pre-Quali show, Will Buxton and James Hinchcliffe discussed the team orders controversy from today's sprint. I agreed with some of what they were saying, but at the same time I felt they were being a bit too harsh in the way the talked about it. Commentators are allowed too be opinionated, of course, but I was curious to see if anyone else was a bit put off by this, or if I'm just being irrational/oversensitive(sry in advance for it being four mins lol)

[chrrywvea]

a serotonin boost for today:

✨️imagine married lokius at a christmas market✨️

(or: my brain going haywire at 4 am for these two idiots & leaving me with this half fic half imagine-ramble-story thing)

mobius obsessing over all the little trinket shops

like immediately upon their arrival, he's over the moon

loki detests all the masses of people but nearly melts when he sees how mobius lights up

he does enjoy it later on as well, very much even

sharing mulled wine

butterfly kisses & red cheeks (loki i'm looking at you)

mobius wears the scarf loki made for him for his birthday (personal hc of mine: loki can crochet & knit insanely well)

mistletoes, so many mistletoes

snowflakes in loki's curls make him look even more mesmerising (mobius stop staring please)

mobius gets fairy lights for their apartment

loki shields his tiny husband from all the people bumping into everyone (inspo from the cutest gay couple i saw at the christmas market yesterday thanks guys♡)

they try out all the different food stands together

(since christmas markets tend to have lots of nordic food loki gets to teach mobius about his favourite dishes at home when he was a child)

mobius loves listening to loki anyway, no matter the topic, but hearing him speak so freely of the good aspects of his childhood always warms his heart

they search more quiet spots for breaks when they both get a little overwhelmed

loki sings (though this time only for his husband)

holding hands in each others coat pockets & hand kisses to warm cold skin up

beanies

they try on all the beanies in the whole market (mobius puts them on loki who eventually just surrenders to it)

in the end loki buys them real silly, matching ones (if any artists want to draw this, by all means, go ahead! i'd love that so much but i have zero talent when it comes to drawing)

loki drags mobius to the ice rink, the only thing he's weary of since he's never been ice skating before - but loki is there to help!

he's a pro at it, frosty heritage and stuff

yes i believe frost giants can ice skate really well shush

lots of laughter and banter ensue with mobius attempting to stay upright

the waist hold™ is now reversed to prevent mobius from falling on his butt

but honestly they were gonna be close anyway so

touchy touchy

mobius gets the hang of the whole ice skating ordeal and loki cheers him on when he manages one round around the rink on his own

though he completely rams into loki's back upon his return

when they tire out after a while they get more food, sit around one of the nearby bonfires and cuddle

star gazing when it gets dark & planning for christmas eve

they both sneakily buy gifts for one another when the other's busy with something

mobius gets a little tipsy

too many samples at the liquor shops oops

+ i might add more if anyone likes this but this is what came out for now, enjoy :-D

[hxhhasmysoul]

Tagged by @iris-nonsense thank you 💙

Rules: list your top 5 albums from your top 5 artists (can't have a repeat of the same artist) on a poll, so your followers can vote which album they think captures your vibe the best

Tagging but only if you feel like it: @subdee, @ishouldgetatumbler, @faceless-dude, @trashsketch, @noname-nonartist, @yuujispinkhair, @yukisdomain, @yuujiheart, @whats-wrong-aniki, @twila-star

[gus-dix]

felt the need to draw all of fantasy life’s characters cause i’m insane but luckily for me i couldn’t find ref for that many of them online, forcing me to stop at 31 (insane... colored them all in a day too)

stayed very close to their original design, just some outfits simplification when i felt like it or simply cause the ref was too low quality for me to tell what was even going on there. most changes are skin tones, so people who are related actually look that way and people who lives in the southern towns have a tan. made two charas chubbier for more body types and turned a real blond into a fake one... just cause!

anyway, best game, you should play it!

do not erase the caption, use or rePOST my art (reblog ok)