#down unimaginably

[maybebitterxox]

Reminder that simping was invented by James T. Kirk

[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.

[carefulfears]

one thing that stands out to me about the IVF arc is the way that, for as much as i make fun of her for asking her coworker if she can have his babies, scully asking mulder to be involved in the biggest process of her life (and the most important thing in the rest of her life) is such a healing and reverent experience. like he says “i’m absolutely flattered,” but it’s so much more than that. it’s like…spending your whole life feeling like you should’ve died at age twelve and then being told someone just wants more of you, more and more and more, in everything.

[emmafaeru]

this is absolutely one hundred percent an otherside picnic blog now btw

[pangolin-404]

thinking about how buddy is inherently more durable than its crew. they are humans (presumably), soft and killable. but buddy is not its body, but a mask, which is very hard to break. it can get burned, shot, dismembered, poisoned, and blown up six ways from sunday, and its mask will be fine. thinking about how the crew settles into that mindset that buddy is innately more expendable whether they want to or not

it can travel in front. if there is a bracken, it will follow last. it is first to cross the gap to determine if the jump is worth the risk. it loves to do this because it keeps its crew, significantly more vulnerable than itself, safe. it serves as bait for a spider and laughs when it is numbed with venom and collapses, laughs knowing it just had to get the thing to turn around, to leave itself open to be killed by someone else. fifteen teleports it for the seventh time and grows numb to seeing what a thumper does to a body, watching the host stop moving in the ship. it shoves five out of a nutcracker's line of sight and gets shot and still twitches and laughs as it bleeds its energy out, to keep its attention on it rather than anyone else. how readily it will split from the others and serve itself on a silver platter to anything and everything, just to keep them alive.

its crew don't like it, how it has formed some odd complex about it. it never gets downright reckless with itself, because getting a body is a pain kept to a minimum, but that doesn't stop that looming knowledge of how it can be used. a useful ability to have, leaving it and its team assured that there is a fail-safe. that it's okay for someone to lag behind or march into danger, because they can always get it another body. it is the perfect sacrificial lamb.

it gets a little scared when the baboon hawks rip it apart, seeking for things to swallow whole, and wrap their maws around its skull. turretfire or a nutcracker could hit its mask. a pack of dogs fighting over it could (and eventually do) crack its mask. but it does it anyways, no matter how it disturbs itself or its team, because that is the role it has embraced; it is happy to die for them. it can afford to get eaten alive, so why wouldn't it place itself between a dog and its beloved crew? it is simultaneously ready to die and terrified of death

[mugentakeda]

i just saw a pic of live action zuko and im kinda frothing at the mouth because zukos scar in the original show is so big the shell of his ear is almost gone. His skin is melted and folding around the eye socket. the eyeball itself looks dead. the burn is in the shape of a grown mans big ass hand. its horrible looking because the nature of it is horrible and grotesque and tragic and thats the whole POINT because zuko was and is a kid and netflix is making it look like a slightly nasty black eye for aesthetic purposes or to make zukos appearance "easier to digest" for viewers or some other stupid shit im so so mad im SO mad dude

[throwawayasoiafaccount]

when the long night inevitably ends and the previous social structure has crumbled and both westeros and essos are in chaos, do you want characters who genuinely care about creating meaningful change to be in power, or do you want them to die/not be in power because “feudalism is bad” and therefore these characters who derive some of their authority from the class they belong to cannot hold any power after the long night bc that somehow contradicts one of asoiafs most prominent messages. (despite the fact that many of our main characters suffer due to the current social systems in place)

personally, i’d prefer it if the characters who are able to see the good in the undesirables of society (and protect/empower these undesirables) are able to live on in order to restructure society in a way that protects all people.

to be frank, i don’t think it’d even be possible for the world of asoiaf to return to feudalism after something like the long night occurs.

but the thing is, society needs structure and humanity will naturally restructure itself whether people like it or not. so when spring comes, i want the characters who wish for a better tomorrow for all people to be in power in order to create a better world.

so to everyone who thinks that certain characters being in power only perpetuates the cycle of class violence and oppression, i’d like to ask you what you think is a better alternative way for asoiaf to end.

[rez-urrection]

tired of people saying that evil morty is just a morty who snapped, and he doesn't have some good villian origin story. like !! yes he does !! he's implied to be a product of and is canonly a witness of the morty industry.

tw for human trafficking mentions under the more

which, because people in this fandom kind of sugarcoat that or don't see it for what it is, is human trafficking. evil morty isn't just some morty who got tired of a rick, hes a human trafficking victim who was likely passed between more ricks than he can remember. he's witnessed so many deaths and so much systemic morty torture that he's desensitized. the way he scanned all of those rick's brains mimicked the fucking dead morty disposal line.

so, no, evil morty isn't just "some morty who got sick of a rick," he literally apologizes for being such a high maintenence morty to make his rick shut up. that isn't something a regular grandson says that's something a grandson who has been trafficked and used by vile versions of his grandpa in such amounts that his life is unrecognizable without it.

for the love of fuck, r&m fans, please understand complex characters with complex trauma

[bonetrousledbones]

so what i've gathered is that this drawing will not be suited to a papyrus at all. i think any papyrus that i would draw with normal proportions and a basic ass pose with muted colors would have to be a kind that i can have no love for whatsoever. he would have to have been raised by a newspaper

[notanotherinfjblog]

Texting habits per judging function

No one asked, but here are some observations I've made in my personal life.

*Note that this probably differs by age, gender, and culture (for instance, I have been told by several Americans that I use an insane amount of emojis, whereas it's not considered weird at all here in Germany).

FJ:

Generally very good at texting, will respond to absolutely every point you make. If you send them a long voice message, they can be found taking notes while listening so that they will not forget to answer any point you made.

Have a very hard time leaving someone on read and if they do, either something happened and they forgot, or they simply don't like you very much. If they open the message, they answer. If they don't have time to answer you right now, they simply will not open the message yet.

If the text conversation is done (i.e. you wrote something like "bye, see you tomorrow!" that does not require another response), they will still at the very least send you an emoji back for no reason other than letting you know that "Yes! I read your message! I'm not ignoring you! I love you!" (Literally every FJ I have ever known does this. Every single one, including myself.)

They will adapt to your style of texting. If you are the kind of person that likes to send a bunch of heart emojis to friends and the FJ friend is not, they will still pepper in a heart here and there. If you generally don't use emojis, they will use them only occasionally. If you reply in wallpaper long messages, so will they. If you break up your messages into several texts one after the other, so will they.

FPs:

Also generally quite good at texting and can actually appear a lot warmer in writing than in person (there have been several instances where I received really lovely messages from FPs who I used to think hated my guts whenever we met in person).

Prepare for emojis. Seriously.

You can have infinitely long text conversations with them. If you are willing to commit, the conversation between the two of you will never end. With NFPs, the conversations usually end up spiralling into nonsense scenarios, while SFPs keep telling you about their day and keep answering you about your day every day.

TPs:

(my texting experience with TPs is unfortunately very limited, so feel free to fill in my blanks)

Fe is very noticeable in the extroverts, i.e. they tend to go the FJ route described above, but in a more nonchalant and more relaxed way. Like with FJs, the focus of the conversation is on you and their dynamic with you.

The introverts (i.e. my dad, i.e. my only point of reference) are bad at texting and prefer to call, so almost all text conversations go something like this: TP: "Hi, I tried to call you, but you didn't pick up. I hope everything is alright with you?" You: "Yes, sorry. Everything's good here, how about you, everything okay?" --- end of conversation ---

TJs:

Generally bad at texting. Also don't really like it and see no point in it, so they usually prefer calling or talking in person.

Will appear colder in writing than in person, especially the STJs. Their answers will be straight to the point. No beating around the bush and no needless extension of a conversation in form of jokes/questions/anecdotes for a bonding experience. If they want to tell you something, they will tell you in person.

Have absolutely zero problem leaving people on read and usually don't mean anything by it.

STJs rarely use emojis, NTJs do but not excessively

If their answer requires them to type anything more than two sentences, they will send you a voice message instead. (Literally every single TJ I know does this, except my INTJ brother who is a complete maniac and calls instead.)

[chiropteracupola]

salutations. would you like to explain the deal wktb the moth and compass guys they look very polite

moth and compass! the project I've been working on with @natdrinkstea this year-and-some!!

I believe I've introduced our dramatis personae — Moth, an Inquisitive Young Protagonist; Goodfellow, a Ghost; Luna, a Lighthouse-Keeper; and Peregrine, an Ordinary Cat — a few times before, but I still don't think we've every really talked about the story!

and that is because it has taken. quite some time to actually figure out what Goeth On in moth and compass proper. it's a mystery-fantasy, that'll probably be best told as a scrapbook or a puzzle game or a thing along those lines*, and a somewhat purposefully-nostalgic ghost story. it's everyday magic and the haunted sea and learning to look beyond what you think is there and bubblegum pop road trips and creepy creatures in the shadows and the kind of navigational equipment that, if you use it just right, might take you places you'd never otherwise be able to see...

[im-a-dragon-cawcaw]

I cannot believe my tumblr “fame” will be because of a typo

[devildom-moss]

Little update

I might be a little delusional if I think I can get the last shorts request up on time. It's supposed to be for all 14 dateable characters, and I just spent well over an hour coming up with Lucifer's and it's at +900 words. . .If I keep up a similar rate, that's going to be over 10k words, so I'mma have to break that shit up. If I wrote 10k words for a single fic, I'd post it, but since it's a collection of shorts, I'd rather break it up and post the other parts later like I do when I'm not doing requests.

I am sorry to the person who made the request, but I'll prioritize finishing the rest of the request in early March. I hope you don't mind.

I actually have a pretty good way to split it into three parts. It'll make more sense once I actually write and post them all.

Part 1: Lucifer, Leviathan, Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon Part 2: Mammon, Satan, Asmodeus , Belphegor, Solomon Part 3: Beelzebub, Thirteen, Raphael, Mephistopheles

If it's any consolation, I think Lucifer is really cute and sweet (and such a down-bad, love-sick, baby-boy) in this one.

[eileenleahy]

baddie from my french class (not the lesbian from last semester) approached me while i was sat on the hallway floor she said hey whatcha doin? girl i had to x outta that renai circulation english cover 1hr loop so fast

[hairtusk]

i fucking hate buying on vinted from rich uni students. killing this cunt with my mind.

[llycaons]

I know this isn't a new observation but I think its so fun how xl is usually very polite and - not deferential, but aware of the power of the other martial gods and respectful of them, but occasionally we see how he really feels and he's stone-cold, sarcastic, ready to murder, huge cunt, etc. meanwhile wwx is feared and loathed for his casual mastery of terrifying forces and he does use that to his advantage and he is badass and uncompromising and violent and can be brutal etc but when we see him in unguarded moments he's such a lovey-dovey romantic such a sweetheart and not just in his romantic relationship I remember how he kissed the corpses hand when he asked it to return for him I remember how bitterly he rued not being able to see his beloved sister getting married! just. the nuances are really fun. the contrast in character. the hidden depths. xl's is mostly pretty funny, and wwx's very emotionally powerful. I love them