#these always end horribly

[chikinan]

I'm sentimental about them. & about camcorders. [twt + insta + ptrn on bio]

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The dog days are over.

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[metanarrates]

what I find very interesting about the narrator's choice of reward - ie. an eternity of supposed bliss inside the cabin - is that while it seems on its surface just another instance of him projecting his desires onto you, it actually isn't. he himself probably thinks that he would desire an unchanging eternity like the one in the cabin, but...

when he is talking about his reasons for wanting to remove death from the world, his focus is almost entirely on connections to others. he talks about the greater good, having loved ones, wanting better for them. it's those connections that drive him to submit to death in the hope of defeating it. he is definitely selfish, but if he was totally selfish, he wouldn't have been able to do that. he believes his own death is a worthy sacrifice for the continued existence of his world. his vision of an ideal eternity, as he describes to you, is one where connections are endlessly and joyfully rediscovered.

in his ideal ending, you've killed off the only being you could ever meaningfully connect to. and this is one of the main reasons his plan dooms itself. who could bear the weight of an eternity alone? not him, certainly.

[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.

[ruporas]

post ep 11

[iamhereinthebg]

I will never be over the fact that tbhk really takes place in 2015

We know that AidaIro published the first chapter in December 2014

The Yugi Twins were in the 66th Festival in 1968 and the curent present have the 113th Festival.

On this panel, it's written that the 1st of September was a Tuesday. The closest years to the manga airing having this date being either 2009 or 2015.

Bonus:

Which means: the 1st year (Aoi, Akane, Nene) were born in 1999, Teru in 1998 and Kou and Mitsuba in 2000.

[vigilskeep]

um calenhad aeducan lore. known fondly as prince cal by the people of orzammar and also me. he’s called that after the founder of the theirin line, because after ferelden successfully rebelled against orlesian rule, orzammar was like oh fuck we’ve got to repair that relationship as if we didn’t just sit by the whole time that was happening. so there were a bunch of these kind of uh diplomatic publicity stunts happening around the time he was born. and nothing about his life has ever not been someone else’s angle

his mother was one of endrin’s lesser concubines from a lower status house, and every jealous eye turned in her direction when she bore the king a son. despite that, endrin’s queen took her and the baby under her wing. it wasn’t entirely altruistic. the queen had no sons of her own, so cal could serve instead as her “contender” for heir against trian, the son of her long-time rival, a favoured concubine called lady rosdrada. the queen also happened to be a notable warrior, a powerful reaver, who died years later on a deep roads expedition under mildly suspicious circumstances, with many blaming lady rosdrada. (she was never publicly accused but neither did the king ever marry her and allow her to rise to the queen’s vacant place, a fact bitterly resented by her faction.)

cal’s mother, who returned the queen’s protection and favour with fierce loyalty, was first among rosdrada’s accusers. furious that punishment never came, she changed almost overnight from a shy, humble woman to a politician who could in her own right engage in the life or death battle for succession, raising her son to be the fulfilment of the late queen’s ambitions. he was trained since childhood in both the ways of princely charm and the ways of a reaver warrior, all to be the vengeance of a woman whose face he sometimes struggles to remember. perhaps there was a time, as boys, when he tried to be a brother to trian despite it all, but with his mother’s teachings always in his ears and trian less bearable each year, he’s long since accepted that deadly conflict between them is inevitable. he’s never eager to be the ruthless aeducan prince, but he’s always done his duty, however ugly. he never turns down the foul-tasting reaver concoctions, or quakes when he’s sent to the deep roads. he always defends his house’s honour and makes the point in blood. anything less is death; his mother tells him so

he doesn’t truly want the throne. he just wants more than anything to have the weight of expectations off his shoulders, and to no longer dread that his mother, his second, and all who support them will pay the deadly price of his failure. he’ll jump blindly at the chance to get this fight over with—and that’s all the opportunity bhelen ever needed

[eff-plays]

I think Astarion should randomly say no when you ask for a kiss and you can offer to give him a hug instead. I think he should do that. I think that should be an option.

[seaglassdinosaur]

What’s so interesting to me about Odysseus’s transition in Monster is that he hasn’t changed all that much. He was always capable of violence and we know that because of everything he’s done in the war and in his journey. The only change that occurs is he’s chosen to no longer feel guilty, and to stop hesitating when it comes to violence.

[starry-bi-sky]

do yall ever think about bruce/batman!clone danny standing in front of his bathroom mirror after finding out he was a clone and silently tracing his face. The slope of his jaw and point of his chin. The high angle of his cheekbones and the shape of his eyes, the curve of his brow bones and the shape of his nose. The volume of his hair and the way it curls and gets fluffy when it gets too long.

His hair is black the same way a crow's wing is black. His dad's hair is black the same way a black bear's fur is black. His dad's eyes are blue like the ocean is blue. Danny's eyes are blue the same way a glacier is blue.

His dad has a square jaw and straight flat hair, and he tans and gets a face full of freckles when he's out in the sun for too long. Danny burns like a lobster and his face remains untouched. Danny has a sharp jaw and tall cheekbones, and Sam says when he's not smiling there's almost something regal about him. You would never call Jack Fenton "regal" when he's not smiling.

Sam says when he's not smiling he looks scary the same way a stone statue is. Jack Fenton when he's not smiling looks scary the same way that german shepherd staring at you across the street is.

Do you ever think he grew up wondering if he was adopted. Because of course, he has black hair and blue eyes like his dad. But having the same color doesn't make you someone's child.

Or, worse, things he's heard from the other kids and the other parents and even some of his teachers growing up; that he was the product of an affair. And that his dad was just too stupid to notice. And Danny would defend his parents until the day he died, because Jack Fenton wasn't an idiot and Maddie Fenton wasn't a cheater.

But doubt comes in with fickle tongue. his parents swear up and down that he is their child when he asks about either. That Danny just had his grandparents' features, but he was their son and they loved him.

But Danny doesn't look like either of his parents. His mom's eyes are blue like an aquamarine and Jazz's too. And they burn like lobsters in the sun too, but Jazz gets freckles on her face and so does Maddie. And as Danny grows up he doesn't bulk up or get stocky like his dad did, and when he hits puberty he doesn't shoot up like a tree like Jack Fenton did.

He stays small, and they say he's a late bloomer (and he is), or that he just has his mom's height. But he's fast and has good stamina, and some days it feels like he's built entirely different from his family. That the things they went through growing up just didn't apply to him. Jack and Maddie Fenton both had acne and breakouts when they hit puberty, and Jazz inherits it and he's seen the amount of skincare products she keeps on her side of the bathroom.

And then he hits puberty and breaks out maybe once or twice, but his skin stays clear for the most part and the problems and changes his dad went through just don't happen to him.

And the truth is worse than all of the lies.

How horrifying.

[endless-nightshift]

Get into danmei for cute gay people, stay as your forced to watch every part of your favorite characters life fall apart knowing that no matter what you wish you already know the ending, no matter how heartbeaking because this has already happened and you are simply being told the horrible past.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[pastlivesandpurplepuppets]

Every morning Dad got up early and made breakfast for her. If it was the dead of winter he pulled Mom’s car up to the front of the house, cleared off the snow, and turned on the heater for her. Every night after work Dad had a cocktail with Mom and they chatted about the events of the day. We went to family gatherings, where Dad was always well liked and lively. He was a great dad—very loving and attentive. He doted on my mother and was very much in love with her. I never heard him use profanity or witnessed him losing his temper. He never raised a hand to us kids when we didn’t deserve it—and there were plenty of times we did deserve it and didn’t get it.

~ Michael Sobel (Sobel's son)

[pass3ra]

cressida's storyline was genuinely shameful tbhhh it's like they started rewriting it in the first half of the season then completely forgot about the changes they'd made to make it fit the book plot and it just ends up making everyone else look bad😐 every character in the second half got a "penelope did nothing wrong" lobotomy so we ended up with eloise completely ignoring cressida being sold off to an horrible man (when she made every effort to support her in the first half of the season) and for some reason resenting her for pretending to be lady whistledown? Then they somehow frame her ignoring colin's offensively bad pleas as it being her turning away from redemption when all she's trying to do is escape being trapped in the country with her likely abusive aunt... and it ends with her meeting her horrible fate and it still being framed as tragic only to immediately juxtapose it with the bridgerton family winning the idgaf war while gleefully seeing off francesca and her future dead husband. The bridgertons were the villains of the season frfr

[ducktracy]

30 second MS Paint self portrait but my director pointed out that i always start every meeting doing this and said that my energy is admirable and something to aspire towards. and i'm documenting this because i genuinely think a part of my brain is subconsciously being influenced by HIM

[vaugarde]

havent seen this take in a while thankfully but it popped up in my head and i wanna post this anyways. i think everyone who talks about how siffrin “got off too easy” at the end of isat and his friends should have abandoned him should go read warrior cats if they want an example of a character using their trauma as their god-given jailbreak card to treat their family and peers (a good amount of whom who were completely innocent) like dogshit, and who faces zero consequences from the narrative for it (and in fact bends over to blame their peers). like read all the shit jayfeather does while the narrative sobs over how tragic but awesome and quirky he is and then look me in the eye and tell me siffrin’s ending was poorly written.