#cults for ts

[voidheartkisses]

Every once in a while, I remember when Narinder was the virgin mary

[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.

[deservedgrace]

I think being raised to be prepared for the world to end and/or to die at any moment (via end times/jesus coming back or persecution because "the world hates us and wants us dead and has no morals") was maybe um..... not great. I think that perhaps that might be bad for you.

[byebuck]

lol at this like ten tweet thread bout how matty’s TWO AND A HALF HOUR INTERVIEW is taylor shade disguised, and op pulled like, one quote out of the entire interview. the clairo shade joke but for literal narcissist who believe everything is about them (ts). you have actual intellectual conversations in this interview and you believe his desire was to hint at someone who he was casual with. fucking worms for brains

yes op, that’s taylor’s album campaign for ttpd in a nutshell lmao

[biomic]

[everytaylorswiftsongisaboutcats]

Fortnight Acoustic Version

I love you

even though you ruined

any sleep I was “going” to get tonight

[swanerotica]

i know some people do not have the resources to get a diagnosis i mean i got diagnosed for free so i didnt get that until i remembered oh yeah americans but can you self diagnosed kids who determined they have autism by taking a uquiz please stop saying bullshit like " autism cult!!!" or whatever the fuck that autism creature shit was its annoying thanks

[ohello0]

I’m so sick of seeing the Mormon wife content spreading like mold across all social media platforms. I don’t give a fuck about your stand mixer you have three MIT degrees NASA NEEDS YOU!! Stop having that bighead man’s babies the international space station is looking for people get out there!!!

[deservedgrace]

One of the wildest things about end times anxiety/sadness at least in my experience was that you weren't allowed to express it in any significant way. Expressing any type of dissatisfaction with the end times coming soon (because everyone would take any natural disaster or war or bad thing in the world as indication that the end times are upon us) was met with you being shamed for not trusting god, not trusting his timing, for being haughty and prideful thinking you could possibly know the day and hour when not even the angels know, and don't you want jesus to come back? It's a good hopeful thing and your anxiety and fear and sadness and any other negative feelings are signs you don't love and trust the lord enough. It is completely twisted to not only tell children the world is ending soon, but to also force them to look forward to it.

[kijagf]

having a moment of enlightenment as i listen 2 my liked songs and steadily remove all the taylor swift bc it low-key sucks

[creativia10]

When Roman Gets Into a Job Cult

Virgil is worried about Roman. He's pretty sure his friend got sucked into a cult through the guise of a new job. Unfortunately, the signs are too familiar to Virgil. He really doesn't want Roman to go through what he did. So Virgil decides, with some support, to try to help save his friend.

Warnings: mentions of cult-like behaviors, implied brainwashing, manipulation, some insensitivity about anxiety, love bombing (does that need a warning?), arguments, dubious consent on physical contact

Let me know if I missed any warnings

Wordcount: 4925

Notes: Human au. Stay safe out there. This will probably be the first of a series. Let me know if you have any questions about anything.

When Roman Gets Into a Job Cult - Creativia - Sanders Sides (Web Series) [Archive of Our Own]

[hauntedfalcon]

delicious. finally some good fucking fantasy theology talk from characters who have reasons to feel ways about stuff

[biomic]

[faggot-friday]

music emoji

Sleep Cult - L.S. Dunes

Vigilante Shit - Taylor Swift

Antibodies - L.S. Dunes

The (After) Life of the Party - Fall Out Boy

Heart-Shaped Box - Nirvana

[strawberrystainedd]

fanning over media is great wonderful i love it. but the culture of fanning over celebrities is genuinely insane and dystopian and disturbing and i just want to throw all of your phones into the ocean

[classiclitqueer]

i know i’m late to say this but in light of the tortured poets department i would just like to thank jack edwards for taking the first bullet by explicitly stating that taylor swift’s lyric writing is thematically and formulaicly similar to tumblr/notes app poetry