one thing i can't really wrap my head around in terms of like. fandom stuff is the idea of character death as an inherently bad thing. like a good well-written death is one of the best things that can happen to a character

"nooooo my fave died how can i go onnnnn" frankly? skill issue

i saw them in the cookbook pages and Immediately thought of this meme:

7x04 being from Buck's perspective broke my brain because of the way we saw Eddie through Buck's eyes. Then I realized that Suspicion, where Eddie was shot, was from Eddie's perspective, and all of Surviviors was from Buck's perspective and I want to jump into the ocean.

(x)

[Inspired post] Click and Open image for HQ! [Ko-fi] | [Twitter] | [Instagram]

💙👉👈💛

I’m going to paint you a picture of modern communication, and how it is fundamentally broken.

Let’s look at one friend. You chat pretty much everyday, and mostly talk to this person on twitter and discord, with occasional tumblr DMs. That’s three places you talk. But that’s actually not true, because you also have each other’s priv twitters and talk there as well. That’s four. Now account for, let’s say, one post reply per account per person, in addition to your DMs. That’s eight. But that’s ALSO not true, because not only do you talk in discord DMs with each other, but you’re in a friend group server as well! And you talk in those channels together! That’s nine.

This is one friend.

Now look around you. How many friends, how many mutuals are you in contact with. A few, a handful, a dozen, more? How many accounts per person do you have, how many places can you send each other posts, devolve into separate topics and conversations? How many people text you as well. Friends, family, coworkers? What do you do day to day around catching up, what IRL commitments will rip you away long enough to let the pile build again?

I can’t do it. I cannot live an actual life in the real world and balance this much interaction, it’s crushing. I reply to a friend’s post because I’m interested in the subject, I want to have a discussion! I WANT to talk about it with them, but I immediately kick myself for adding another conversation to the pile. Day by day, I ignore messages for hours on end and watch mountains pile around me, to reply en masse at the end of the night to let the cycle repeat. I wake up to six discord DMs and as I clear the third, the first replies back again.

We weren’t meant to have thirty simultaneous conversations. We weren’t. And you know in your bones that the number isn’t an exaggeration.

babe would you still love me if we were superheroes and you were in danger and i went absolutely bonkers and crossed every moral boundary imaginable to protect you at literally any cost?

going to bed but thinking about kon and his suicidality as selflessness and how heroism and self-destruction share quite the overlap and how saving the world with his death was heroic but also the culmination of a pattern of passive suicidality he displayed since practically his first day alive. what does it mean when you're so eager and willing to help at any cost to yourself that you assume you will not see yourself grow up? "i don't care what happens to me" is a scary place to be, but "i don't care what happens to me, so long as i can save everyone" is noble and brave, right? so when does heroism become an act of self-destruction? when you truly believe in helping others, but you also think you'll die doing it one day and that isn't enough to stop you... where's the line?

Spoilers for BNHA chapter 423; you know where this is going.

SHIGARAKI KINNIES HOW WE FEELING TONIGHT???? CAUSE I AM NOT FEELING GOOD!!!! in all seriousness, I could barely finish this sketch because I was crying so hard. Horikoshi when I catch you istg. I'm not even gonna entertain the idea that he's still alive somehow until that's confirmed because I refuse to give myself false hope. But this is not how I wanted this to end. Shigaraki deserves to have the life that was literally stolen away from him from day fucking 1. Yes, killing AFO was cathartic as HELL, and seeing kurogiri/shirakumo reach out to save his son absolutely broke me, but what happens to all of the build-up with Shigaraki's story? the rest of the league's trauma, the issues they genuinely faced within this hero society? where is all that going? down the drain ig. seems like such a fuckin waste of a story but alright. this could have been about deku becoming the greatest hero by saving and reforming the villains who were abused and tortured but ALRIGHT. also, a two page send off? be fr what the fuck. Rest easy, king. You deserved so much better. Or come back to us because that'll turn this car around so fast we might hit mach speed.

To be a king who's abandoning my duties and disguising myself as a normal human to enjoy the city and then meeting a badass woman who will kick my ass and immediately falling in love with her. I hide my identity from her and she treats me like I'm a loser I'm a simp so it doesn't matter. I would then have a son with her and I would be so happy but the both of us got betrayed and she was then killed by poison while our son survives. And I'm sorry but i couldn't be there for our son bcs now i have to atone for the things that happened and he reminds me of my beloved wife so much for it to not hurt when i look at him.

at the end of the day church and tex are pygmalion and galatea and we just have to accept that. like the story of the sculptor who fell in love with his own art

bc she really is just his own creation that he loves and wants to love him back and wants to be whole but she’s.. not. she’ll never be anything outside of him, she’d never exist if it weren’t for his imagination (since she isn’t truly allison she is his concocted version of her) and because of that she can’t be human

he loves her as some fucked of version of loving himself (he loves who he was when he was with her and loves that he created her and that she is wholly his)

the difference is that alpha is no god, no aphrodite, and he cannot create life, he can only fragment himself which is why they do not get the happy ending of pygmalion and galatea, they instead are doomed to repeat and echo the agonies of the people they mimic

☆ lost in orbit

{☆} characters tsaritsa {☆} notes cult au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings violence [ implied ], unhealthy relationship {☆} word count 0.6k

She had resigned herself to apathy – to burying her love beneath the cold, hard soil and letting it rot amongst the graves of a long dead civilization, burned to ash in only a day. Yet how quickly it all fell apart in her hands, slipping through her fingers like sand, no matter how desperately she tried to cling to it.

Was she not diligent enough? Was she so weak that she faltered at the first person who showed her genuine trust and affection? Had all her work been for naught?

A part of her revolts – the same woman who watched the sky burn and the ground beneath her feet crumble into ash. It would be so easy to wrap her hands around your delicate throat, to squeeze until you finally saw her as the monster she knew she has always been.

Yet she doesn't think she could. The look of betrayal, of fear..oh, it would ruin her, she knows.

Perhaps that makes her weak. Perhaps you have made her weak.

Perhaps she does not mind as much as she should.

You trust her, after all – enough to sleep in her bed like she couldn't just kill you before you ever knew what was happening to you. Your body was so..fragile, in this mortal shell you descended in. How easy it would be to snuff out your life, here and now.

Yet she doesn't.

Instead, she looks at you like an old lover – with all the love of a woman who had died in the ashes of a dying civilization, of a woman who thought she could love no longer. Emotions she fought so hard to suppress well up in her chest and fill the empty space where she knows her heart should beat. Try as she might – and oh, how she tries – she can never quite stem the affection that consumes her every waking moment when she sees you.

It is like an addiction that she cannot rid herself of, no matter how she tries. She always finds herself back at square one – back to you.

Her hand lingers against your cheek, undue affection filling the empty spaces in her chest until she feels like cannot breathe. She traces her hand along your jaw, her vision narrowed on the softness of your lips.

Yet that same thought rises unbidden to the forefront of her thoughts. Love was a dangerous thing – you both knew that. To let it fester and rot her from within..she would be throwing her plans out the window, and for what?

Because she was too weak? Because the affection and trust in your eyes whenever your looked at her made her feel whole, like she was more then just an Archon playing God with the fate of the world?

You do not even stir as her thoughts toil like a brewing storm. She swallows the lump in her throat, removing her hand like she'd just touched a piece of hot metal. A part of her still screams that it's for the best, that you've corrupted her enough, torn apart her plans in the span of a week, a mere blink in time..

But it goes silent as she leans in, pressing her lips to your cheek. She will not let the thought fester, tonight – she will let herself be weak, if only for another day. If only to covet the affection that she finds herself drowning in for just another day.

And when you stir, she pretends that she had never thought of it at all, that she has only ever known love with you. Even if her heart that does not beat leaves a stabbing pain in her chest in the agony of knowing that even this is futile..

She lets you wake, let's the recognition and the affection fill your vision until she is all you see – two stars locked in orbit, unable to break away.

And when the day comes that you collide, she will be holding the blade that drives into your chest, and she will know nothing but love when she does.

In Yai’s defense I’d be grumpy too if my dad’s very new girlfriend moved in while I was in the middle of my sleeping with my enemy crisis

trying not to wail on the bus back home as a i read “you pierced my soul. i am half agony, half hope. tell me not that i am too late, that such precious feelings are gone forever. i offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it eight years and a half ago. dare not say that a man forgets sooner than a woman, that his love has an earlier death. i have loved none but you. unjust i may have been, weak and resentful i have been, but never inconstant.” for the seventy sixth time

i want to give him a hug :(

<-<-<- I want. to give this boy A Hug

Maximilian Günther walking around with the thickest Louis Vuitton scarf … maserati comeback is SOON