#self awareness about it being a game

[applepixls]

theres something to be said about the accidental symbolism of the horns in double life

grian got ponder originally which is a doo doo dudooooo kinda pattern and then got seek which is the same pattern but with a scratchier sound and offered it to scott

their stories then mirror in both having previously done a series with their partner and this time (somewhat) rejecting them (and later being tortured by them) only scott fully rejected pearl to live across from cleo while grian still kept scar around but tried to be secret soulmates with bigb. and ultimately scott and pearl did the whole sacrifice for the other person to win thing, reprising grian and scar's 3rd life ending same pattern, different sound.

(theres also something to be said here about how they are similar people, you can see it in the quiet agreement to stand around and get butted at by goats and in the bit where scott punches scar, sees grian take damage and "*he knows" and he knows he knows he knows and scott realizes what grian realized, that grian is once again trailing reluctantly after scar to keep him safe but also knows he shouldn't tell scar cause grian hasn't. they're both very intelligent in similar ways and it shows)

later on grian got another ponder (which he offered to scar instead of the seek he initially gave him) and mentioned how there was a reply to it (sing, du dudoooo) that he really wanted (and later jimmy and tango got)

so more narrative comparisons. the two soulmate pairs at that point have matching horns, grian and scar are ponder and jimmy and tango are sing. notoriously jimmy and scar are the two that everyone was scared of being partnered with because they die and take damage a lot. the thing i find interesting is how different their narratives are grian and scar had already been partnered and worked together previously, meanwhile, jimmy and tango had barely spoken prior. you'd expect that the two who were already friends and found out they were partnered (or at least grian found out) in a more or less positive way would choose to be friends, no? and you'd think that the two who didn't know each other and met by dying would have an awkward stumbling dynamic and possibly resent (in character) each other, right? but turned out it was the opposite way around (because of personalities blah blah blah). its not super related to the horn patterns I'll admit but something about the way.. its almost as if grian's horn says this is how it is (this being like rejecting scar because of their past) and the ranchers horn being like what if it doesn't have to be (something about clean slates, seeing people in new light, reintroducing yourself, taking all the best of a person despite a bad circumstance like yknow. killing them when you first meet. don't know anyone else whos accidentally blown up someone when they first met cough cough 3rd life cough)

please feel free to add your thoughts

[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.

[thirdtimed]

someone left a really good set of tags on the life series winner post but in essence i agree that while i like the watchers in theory as window dressing to the entire tragedy fueling this endless cycle of blood sports i think its a million times more intriguing and engaging for the truth of the matter to be that the lifers themselves are the reason for their own suffering. the watchers are just kind of there as an excuse for their own faults

[whats-your-initiative]

The way the YouTube lore experts have just accept Veilguard wholesale without any complaints and are actively making excuses for it's flaws disappoints me... but I suppose that's on me for assuming people interested in something published by EA would hold it to a standard

[thepoggersdilemma]

It is interesting to me how the first impression I got over AA4 phoenix was a guy who's continuously acting like he's fine and everything is ok while being in an extremely vulnerable position, and even passing it as a joke when asking Polly for help trying not to show any weakness.

I thought that was the point of the scene where he gets hit by a car but makes a stand up funny act about it with Trucy into convincing Polly to work with them.

Like I feel most of Apollo's banter at the start is because of how not-straight-forward Wright is with him, but he can tell that working with him and putting up with it all, will help the three of them in the end so he keeps at it.

[ravlykpavlyk]

...but he'd violently disliked her [Mary] for half his life.

I don't know why I find this part that fascinating. I guess it's the fact that Neil does understand what Mary did to him was wrong (considering the fact that he disliked her and was aware of that). Neil also realizes that part of his opinion is a bit biased because of being on a run and all of that.

Now I see lots of fics where Neil defends his mother and stands on the fact that she was a good mother, but then I reread his part and ... I'm not so sure now that he would. Yeah, he would shrug on the things she did to him and he might try to justify them even, but would it be because of believing that Mary was a good mother or simply because of being used to being hurt and being blamed for it?

[hallowclave]

What a whimsical looking young man I wonder if he has received any job offers recently

Original photo

[project-catgirlpillar]

I think Viewing Monika as some Kind of evil Mastermind does her character a huge disservice for multiple reasons but also Just cause it ascribes her a Level of competence she simply does Not display

[frameconfessions]

What I love about Warframe as a newcomer is that there doesn't seem to be any sort of shipping wars or fandom discourse at all. I've been into a lot of shooters before (ie. Overwatch, Apex Legends, etc.) so Warframe is a huge breath of fresh, clean air.

💯

[justiceforfoxface]

if you people will not request, I suppose I will just create

anyways here’s my idea: coriolanus snow x model reader

warnings: literally none. sfw. no use of y/n. female reader. let me know if you want this with gn reader or male reader. academy coriolanus.

enjoy :)

Most people your age would be heading to school about now, but not you. You were heading to Mrs. Cameron’s office, your boss who made sure your face got slapped on every advertisement. Didn’t matter what it was for. You’d been in posters and ads for foods, for clothing, once for the Games itself. As long as people saw your face, Mrs. Cameron got money, and if Mrs. Cameron got money, so did you.

You sit in the waiting room, an empty marble room that’s honestly intimidating even after going there for years. Then, Janet looks up from her spot at the counter. She’s Mrs. Cameron’s secretary, a fairly nice young woman whom you don’t often engage with.

“You can go home,” Janet says, not unkindly, but certainly not kindly. “Mrs. Cameron’s not here right now. She’s fallen ill.”

“Oh,” you say awkwardly. You’d never been turned away before. Even though Mrs. Cameron was the boss of most of the models in the Capitol, she always had time for you. “Well, send her wishes of a fast recovery.”

Janet nods, and you make your exit. As you step out the doors, you’re hit with a blast of cold air. You got up at the crack of dawn to eat breakfast and walk here, and you didn’t realize exactly how freezing it was. You were also caught right in the middle of what was practically a stampede of students heading to the Academy. The red uniforms flooded the small side street, like blood slowly spreading over a white snowflake.

As you make your way through the crowd, with lots of hurried saying of “Excuse me” and “Sorry,” you pause to see someone looking at you.

One of the students. He’s blonde, and he has very noticeable blue eyes. He says something, and it takes you a moment to realize he’s talking to you.

“You’re the girl from all those advertisements.”

“I-I am,” you reply, nodding. The student nods to the doors of the modeling agency you just walked out of. “Do you work there?”

“Yes.” “Are there…lots of clothes there?”

You’re slightly confused at these questions. You got a lot of weird questions when people found out you were a model, but no one ever asked if you had lots of clothes at your modeling agency.

“Yes, I guess so,” you hesitantly respond. Does he want to break in and steal them? “Why?”

He turns red and says, “It’s…well, my cousin-Tigris-her birthday is coming up, and she likes, well, fashion, so I thought I’d get her something nice, but….”

“Oh!” Well, that’s a lot nicer than breaking into a modeling agency and stealing all their clothes.

“I…work for Mrs. Cameron, you know. She leads most of the models in the Capitol.” You don’t know why you’re telling this to a stranger. “She normally doesn’t like us taking the dresses home, but she’s out sick, so…”

You don’t know why you’re offering this to a stranger. You’ve never broken a rule of Mrs. Cameron’s before. And here you are, willing to break her biggest one for a stranger who-for all you know-might not even have a cousin with a birthday coming up.

His eyes light up. “Could you get something? Maybe something nice. She likes pink.”

And then you remember it. The satin pink dress with the bow in the back that was rejected for you because Mrs. Cameron said it didn’t match your eyes. But it was comfortable, and beautiful, and perfect for a birthday gift. “I know exactly what to get,” you say. “I can probably get it to you this time tomorrow.”

He nods, and then says, “Coriolanus Snow,” and then walks away.

It takes you a few minutes to realize that was his name.

[sysig]

Rosawatts, from memory (Patreon)

[bacchuschucklefuck]

the boy-but-not-that-way-ism of riz gukgak send tweet

[a-sketchy]

the thing about yosuke’s shittiness around here (up close and personal, the campout) is that the vast majority of it isn’t doing literally anything for his character. i completely think yosuke’s shittiness is important to his character, but it’s by and large reflections of his own insecurities and flaws. he’s insecure about his masculinity and sexuality, he’s lame, he’s selfish, he’s obsessed with the idea of women, his mouth moves faster than his brain, he doesn’t like himself, and he cares way too much about the societal ideal of ‘normal’. but it’s really important that he’s self-aware! he knows when the things he says are shitty, he knows he’s lame, he knows he’s selfish, he knows he’s putting up a front of being carefree and normal. but there’s absolutely no self awareness here, there’s no recognizing he went too far and apologizing the next day, there’s no regret, there’s not even any self-deprecation, and there’s absolutely no compassion or empathy like he has in serious moments. a lot of what he says is just mean for meanness’s sake, in an execution incongruous with previous behaviour. it’s not even funny!

[greatgoddyke]

some bobbles (+ two unfinished things)

[gaydogmarriage]

ppl are always depicting cyno in fanon as a comic relief annoying idiot partner to tighnari that cannot read the room and is always making him angry and yeah he doesn't have the best social skills and doesn't understand other people that well, but he knows that. and he also knows tighnari well enough to know that if he truly was annoyed with his behavior to the point of getting angry, he would shut that shit down real quick. he's not the type of person to just sit there and take it if he's genuinely bothered, i think. cyno's just putting himself out there without letting himself be paralyzed by his own shortcomings or insecurities, and it's pretty clear tighnari doesn't want him to repress himself either.

if anything, i can see tighnari being the one with an annoying habit in private that he has 0 self awareness about because he's so used to being the one dealing with other people's bullshit that he may not realize when he's the culprit for once, and cyno is too much of an unbothered king to say anything about it, and too madly in love to stay annoyed for long lol

[front-facing-pokemon]