#the tragedy kills me

[mcd217]

Thinking about how Enj and R (and all the amis) were destined for youth. How they never got to grow old and enjoy the summers with each other. How R never was able to grow a salt and pepper beard and how Enj’s perfect face never wrinkled around his eyes. That is all.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

man. the deep Affection and Tenderness in your heart when you look at your best friend - am i right fellas

[a2zillustration]

We made it to the end of Act 2! Is it really a d&d campaign if someone isn't having an emotional breakdown in the middle of a group hug?

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[[ All Croissant Adventures (chronological, desktop) ]]

[[ All Croissant Adventures (app) ]]

[foxesandrabbits]

jean taking care of kevin when riko destroyed his hand (extra content) vs kevin checking out the injuries of jean’s hand after leaving the nest (the sunshine court)

I am not the same I was before thinking about these parallels. For so long, they were the only ones they could trust, having an almost achingly sad rutine just to make sure the other one is still alive, that everything can be put together again. The familiarity with which Kevin checks out Jean’s hand is enough to make me sob if I think about it too much.

[nathanielthecurious]

i have this problem where i think ancient tragedies are hilarious and that is why i work on ancient comedy but idk the bluntness is funny to me. when Medea kills her children the script is like

(Offstage)

- alas what will i do?

- i do not know, my dearest brother. for we are being killed

[silverwhittlingknife]

"the fault, dear Brutus -" (Julius Caesar)

Quotes from A Critical History of English Literature by David Daiches. Panels from Death in the Family, Under the Red Hood, Lost Days, and Batman and Robin.

[vaggieslefteye]

MORE THAN ANYTHING - REPRISE ↳ from Hazbin Hotel Season One (2024): 1x08 - "The Show Must Go On"

[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.

[falling-star-cygnus]

does anyone else feel like Boothill's inability to swear is an unexplored angst concept?

it's a hilarious add to his character, don't get me wrong, i love his dialogue- but isn't it just like- -> a wee bit dehumanizing? think about it:

someone literally REPROGAMMED his speech patterns just bc they could

i- that's got to grate on him right??

like the knowledge that anytime, anywhere, this random scientist could pop up again and just- change him like that

Boothill: what the- Dan Heng: fuck Boothill: were you thinking, Rosie? were you trying to get yer- Dan Heng: fucking Boothill: dumb- Dan Heng: ass Boothill: killed!? Argenti: ...i recognize i'm being scolded right now but- what are you two doing? Dan Heng: Boothill's.. alteration doesn't adequately get the point we're trying to make across here, so i volunteered to fill in

[dangans-ur-ronpas]

the future foundation probably trained the survivors in self defense and hand-to-hand combat after they were rescued. because they're heroes now, in a way - in the eyes of those who were watching, they are symbols of hope, they survived despite it all, they are made noble through their suffering. and i think of makoto, whose hands are probably soft and has never even thought of hurting another person in his life, being handed a weapon and taught how best to disarm, how best to kill, how to see a room as a battlefield and a person as an enemy and do whatever it takes to protect yourself, kill them, survive, survive, survive. because he is too important now, the Ultimate Hope; he cannot afford to be lost. he cannot afford to die

i wonder if he took to the training easier than expected. because while he is being taught to take a life with his own hands - to utilize an environment into a weapon, to swing without hesitation, to kill when necessary - he has already killed before, in his own belief. the deaths of his classmates hang over him like a yoke. it doesn't matter if all he did was say a name or push a button - he carries a guilt as sure as if he was the one who murdered them himself

[rozugold]

You won…

[spinnysocks]

you ever wonder

if the writers planned that?

[clownjacket]

Okay my ‘why Kipperlily hates Riz’ theory: She handed out business cards first day, he handed out business cards first day, she’s tiny, he’s tiny, they’re both obviously overeager teacher’s pet type A rogues, they’re like male and female versions of each other and it’s obvious to everyone. What would most high schoolers do, in that situation, seeing another kid so similar to your friend on the first day that they somehow BOTH made business cards to hand out at school? AND they’re going to be taking classes together? You say “Omg, he’s literally the boy version of you, you’re SOULMATES, you’d be perfect together!” And what do you do when your type A tight-ass friend acts embarrassed by that? You tease her about it more obviously. You think it’s just good natured ribbing, and she KNOWS it’s just good natured ribbing, but for some reason she gets unreasonably angry any time she sees Riz after that. Maybe even uncomfortable? But she KNOWS she doesn’t have a crush on him, so why does it bother her so much?

[junebugtwin]

undefined

you were my anchor too.

[apollosbisexualass]

I like to think that Achilles, Hector and Patroclus are all sitting in Elysium laughing together whilst hurling rocks at Paris in the Fields of Punishment

[cowboy-robooty]

watched brokeback mountain yesterday.... mid as fuck. i think it wouldve played out a lot better if the main characters were yuri and jimmy from yarichin bitch club. do u see my vision?