#her stories are wonderful

[millenniallust4death]

Grace Draven's post today about having cervical cancer and being scared about paying for treatment and caring for her family while she is unable to write filled me with such sorrow. Her beautiful stories have carried me through such dark times in my life. I read Radiance to Martin during his final week; Grace's words transported him to a world removed from cancer's tight grasp. I hope with all of my heart that Grace pulls through.

[chloesimaginationthings]

Susie meets the friendly yellow rabbit in FNAF..

[s-aint-elmo]

Falin has been nearsighted since she was little, and has a habit of squinting when she's looking at things. —Delicious in Dungeon World Guide: The Adventurer's Bible

she should have been at the optometrist's

(ID in alt text)

[blackbatcass]

the first thing every dick grayson writer has to keep in mind is that he is defined by his kindness. second thing is that he’s an asshole. third thing is that he’s so, so angry. fourth thing is that he loves donna hinckley stacy troy more than life itself.

[lgbtlunaverse]

I feel like too often people frame Nie Mingjue's issues as ignorance borne from safety. Like, they think that because of his privilege as a sect leader he doesn't know what it's like to be in danger and forced to make hard choices to survive. And I disagree. Strongly.

First of all, Nie Mingjue is very familiar with death not only from war but from. You know. Actively dying since the age of fourteen. Let us not forget Nie Mingjue is dead! Super dead! And maybe he didn't die the exact way he expected to but he did, absolutely, know he was going to die. To act like Nie Mingjue is unfamiliar with the scenario of "do something you find morally reprehensible or die" is to ignore that he has been living that exact scenario and chose death.

Nie Mingjue knows death is a risk for someone like Jin guangyao, in fact he explicitly acknowledges it even in his worst moments like the stairs in chapter 49. Had his issue been ignorance, then he would've responded to Jin Guangyao saying that he's in danger and has to sacrifice others for his own safety with "No you aren't you'll be fine." But he doesn't. He accepts the fact that jgy is in danger with no qualms and says: then you should die.

That's not him betraying his values, those are his values. He is, essentially, pro-suicide. Jgy is like hey I have a moral dilemma what should I do and nmj straight up goes "Kill yourself" and earlier that same chapter when he was faced with a moral dilemma he went "I'm gonna kill myself." He believes the solution to moral dilemmas is suicide! He is extremely consistent about this! When it's pointed out to him that it would have been dangerous for Wen Qing to oppose Wen Ruohan it doesn't phase him because he thinks putting yourself at risk to do the right thing is the only moral choice. The idea that he can only hold this belief because he is himself somehow not in danger, again, requires you to ignore that he is dying the whole time. And it doesn't deter him. He is the idea of self-sacrifice as a moral good taken to its absolute logical extreme. Someone who is ready to die and demands the same from everyone else.

It makes him a very fun case study for fandom, because a lot of fandom spaces also tend to revere self-sacrifice as the ultimate good, and yet we get very uncomfortable when someone starts demanding it of characters we love. Like woah, hold on, that's a bit too far isn't it? Only we the audience get to do that!

[freaky-flawless]

The De Nile sisters!

[bet-on-me-13]

Ghost Cores are Dionesium

So! I while ago, I saw a Post about Danny and the Court of Owls, and one suggestion in the comments basically said, "What if Dionesium, the stuff they use to bring back the dead, is just Ghost Cores?"

And that got me thinking. Lazarus Pits are just Dionesium Infused Water, so how would they be created if Dionesium is a Ghosts Core? Well they way I see it, Lazarus Pits can only be formed in 2 Ways.

The first way is for a large number of Ghosts to be Ended at the same time, with their shattered Cores piling up and dissolving into Water.

The other way, if for an Ancient to Die. The Ancients are practically God's, and as such their Cores are immense in Power. When an Ancient dies, and their Core is left to dissolve in the Human Realm, it forms a Lazarus Pit in the exact same way it would take hundreds of normal Cores to do so.

Where am I going with this?

Well, isn't there a Giant Lazarus Pit under Gotham? The Batcave even has one, doesn't it?

The reason Gotham is so cursed isn't because Lady Gotham likes to collect Curses, or because her Ectoplasm is corrupted, it's because she isn't there to stop them anymore.

Lady Gotham is Dead.

Her Core sank deep into the Earth, forming a Lazarus Pit under the entire City, but thankfully far away from her People. She died, and only the fact that she is a Conceptual spirit saved a piece of her Consciousness. She represents a City, she can only fully be killed if the entire City is leveled. That doesn't mean she is still alive however, just that the barest sliver of her mind is hanging on by a Thread.

This is how Gotham possessed Batman that one time, it was her base instincts saving one of her precious children.

If you want her to be a little more cognizant, maybe she is just severely Injured? Her Core is cracked to the edge of shattering and she desperately needs help.

She she calls out to whoever could save her, and a certain Ghost Boy hears her cry for help?

[screwpinecaprice]

Sorted my folders and I actually added a dialogue to this?

[kinokoshoujoart]

forbidden rock 10 heart event (real and canon)

[wheretheresawyll]

still boggles my mind that in the year 2024 most players still ignore anora's character just to reduce her to a lying backstabber, when she only goes against you if:

you reveal her identity to ser cautherine and howe's soldiers, defeating the entire purpose of her disguise and also ignoring what she told you literally one minute before about how they can't know she's escaping with you - thereby betraying her first

you ignore her completely in denerim after she asks you to come talk to her, and only show up to the landsmeet

you bring up loghain's fate, and when she tells you that she would rather him be spared if possible, you tell her to her face that her father has to die

[mayamint]

A Drow soldier nurses her daughter. Ched Nasad Circa 1400 DR

[dabidagoose]

Ok but with ylfa's backstory it's just. There's a wolf who can take people's skins and mimic their voices? So there have been many ppl who have gone into the woods, been attacked by a wolf, and then what's returned has looked and sounded and hell maybe even acted like them! But a bit more monstrous. With hair on their hands, and a low snarl, and sure they sound like our dear loved one and they look like them but they're scary. They're scary, and they've changed, and shouldn't they be dead?

And maybe if they're scary they aren't our loved one - they're actually just the scary thing in disguise yes of course! Cause they would never scare us like that. They could never be transformed like that. So it's not them, so they're dead.

[wildflowercryptid]

these two have been on my mind recently, i think they'd be so cute together...

[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.

[raeforest]

[rebouks]

Previous // Next

Levi: What do you want? [Robin shrugged, peering around Levi’s head] Robin: Nothing in particular-.. who’s that, your sister? Levi: Yeah. Robin: Wanna ditch her n’ hang out? Levi: With you? Robin: Uh-huh-.. Jacob and Jude too, his dad’s looking at a house for sale over there. [Levi glanced over his shoulder, grimacing at the prospect of being stuck with Tiffany and her annoying friends] Levi: Fine, whatever. Levi: You know you forgot your shoes, right? Robin: Shoes are overrated-.. I like to feel stuff on my feet. Levi: [scoffs] Weirdo. … Levi: It’s tiny. Jacob: Houses are expensive though, right? Robin: Uh-huh, everything is. Levi: How much do you think this one’s worth? Jacob: Uh-.. ten thousand? Robin: [laughs] Try that times twenty. Jude: Woah. Jacob: How big is your house if this one’s so small then? Bigger than Robin’s? Levi: How should I know?! Robin: It’s kinda big. Levi: If you say so-.. our last house was massive, but we had to move. Jude: Why? Levi: None of your business! Jude: Alright, geez. [Jacob rolled his eyes, wondering why Robin had even gone to the trouble of bringing Levi over] … Jude: Did you get it?! Ivan: It ain’t that quick, bud! We’ll see. Oscar: How you doing, Levi? Levi: Uh, yeah.. I’m great! Robin: Can he come over? Levi: Wai-… Oscar: Sure. Robin: You wouldn’t rather be stuck with your sister all day, would you? [Levi squinted at Robin and his irksome brazenness, but he merely gazed back at him calmly-.. he knew he wasn’t wrong] Jacob: He better not make a habit of inviting Levi to hang out with us all summer. Jude: Maybe he just feels bad for him. He did almost die. Jacob: Only almost.