#the trials of being human

[enby-at-the-pyschward]

Awsten:BE A BETTER PERSON!

Otto:Why?

Awsten:BECAUSE SOMEONE NEEDS TO HAVE MORALS IN THIS RELATIONSHIP,AND IT SURE AS FUCK AIN'T GONNA BE ME,SWEETHEART!

[s4tanic-pan1c]

Werewolf Jawn!!! Inspired by ginger snaps and @lightningzombie

I used red ink for the blood/the background and it got a lil messy oops

(Also sorry this isn't good enough, looking at it rn he doesn't look like a werewolf)

[impulsivedecisionsat3am]

took the tobh uquiz and got grace hell yeah i’m so girlboss

(@lightningzombie it’s your fic therefore consider yourself tagged)

[6schoolsin6years]

thinking about a certain reanimated corpse again

[confused-stars]

Wriothesley as an extension of the Fortress itself

a living, breathing part of its organism, his heart beating in tandem with its machinery. that deep hum that's always present in his mind and lulls him to sleep at night is Meropide's ancient power coursing through his veins and he doesn't even know it, let alone understand it

he was a blank slate when he arrived, a non-person by his own choice, and so the Fortress claimed him as her own

sometimes he seems to know exactly what is happening five floors below, and inmates joke that it's some sort of magic, but they know that the Duke is simply well-informed and uses the in-built security system to keep on top of things... surely that's all there is to it

a young Wriothesley was once pursued by a handful of other inmates who wanted to kill him for a perceived slight. he ducked into the shadowed hallways of the lower levels, took turn after turn, and eventually made his way to a safe room where he could hide for the night. the next day, he learned that the other inmates never made it to their morning shifts

his footing is always sure on the walkways, he never loses his way, and he can always tell when there's something up with the machinery at first glance

sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night with the taste of copper in his mouth, and he mistakes it for a memory of blood... but every time, he gets up and he finds that something has happened that requires his attention - usually the violent kind

he doesn't think there's anything special to it all, but Sigewinne sees. Sigewinne knows. she'll cross that bridge in a few decades, when Wriothesley realizes that he's stopped aging

[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.

[throwawayasoiafaccount]

btw what theon went through is what thousands upon thousands upon thousands of slaves still go through in essos. so, do you still feel pity for the slavers that were crucified? do you still pity the slavers killed when daenerys freed the unsullied?

i ask these questions, and yet i know that there are still many people who believe that the violence against the slavers wasn’t justified, or believe that it was simply “too much” or “not fair.” truly… what an insane hill to die on.

maybe these people should spare more empathy for the formerly enslaved instead of wasting time making up excuses (that are not supported by the text) for why the slave masters' deaths were somehow not justified 🫶

[shallowseeker]

So, like. It's not just about "I heard your prayer," it's that... that prayer, those unspoken feelings... they surged through Cas.

It allowed Cas to summon the strength to fight all those Leviathans, steal a blossom, and fight his hardest to get back to Dean. Then, injured and limping, he collapsed into Dean's waiting arms.

It makes so much sense if even one of those transmitted sentences, spoken or otherwise, was:

15x09 via @spnscripthunt-inactive

///

Of course, worst case scenario, "I wanted you to stay" came through, fizzled and broken, alongside "I love you."

Which leaves Cas sick after his adrenaline wears off.

Even now knowing his feelings are returned, he can't have them. He can't have the one thing he wants. He can't actively love Dean as a lover AND stay.

So, he stays. He must be content to simply... be. It's all he can offer.

[phoenixcatch7]

Man, I want shapeshifter cap SO BAD.

I want to see a Billy that really leans into the wonder of the world, the million paths a child could take in their life.

I want to see a Billy that wants to try everything, at least once.

A Billy that looks at all the people who spit at him, deride him, pity him, dismiss him, ignore him, because he has no future, no prospects, a child in the gutter and say no. I'm going to grow up to be whoever I want to be.

And a captain marvel that says you're going to be amazing.

Billy taking the premise of captain marvels form - his ideal self, a blank slate for Billy to paint his bright colours, the person he wants to be deep inside - and dialling that freedom up to eleven.

A dancer, a dinosaur, a train conductor, a tiger, an ice cream maker, a butterfly, an astronaut, a shark, a college student, a Tamaranean, a mouse, a scuba diver, an elephant, a doctor, a moose, a race car driver, a dog.

A child wanting to see the world.

If you want to find captain marvel, well first you've got to try his comm, probably a couple times.

Then you've got to go to fawcett, hope he's there and not saving the yetis from a salamander invasion in a different dimension.

You've got to ask around, because it often goes by word of mouth here, no matter what technology you bring. Don't worry, it'll spread very quickly, but if you're in a hurry you can find his commemorative statue and leave an offering. No one knows if it really works, but it's a good way to pass the time and feel productive.

Soon, a face will peel out of the crowd. It's always familiar, but it's never the same one.

Wait for the flash of lightning in a cloudless sky.

And then you will find captain marvel.

[lolabearwrites]

I'd like to think that being in Xadia for a few years is what made Aaravos want to have a child :3

[muffy-official]

I feel like I can't seem to make anything proper again, just another little crisis so have those random doodles and whenever I'm there mentally again I keep worrying way too much and trying to not think I'm annoying with my character stuff sorry for the semi vent, but somehow this week's been weird private matter wise😭

Gabs might also have to make it clear she's no nurse, that she's only capable of basic things+ stitching, but she'd aid grunts and other expop who got friendly fire'd immediately if needed. With primes she's a bit hesitant but gets the job done. One time she wouldn't care about anything is if pulling sleeves or pant legs up too high cuts blood circulation after a while as she refuses to cut the fabric to have it go up better. You gotta endure it once it's done

Also screw yall/j *genderbends the prime asset as a excuse to draw these suit sets*

[zukosdualdao]

another thing about the crystal catacombs is that it seems clear to me that katara and zuko MUST talk a little more in between what we actually see, because when zuko says, “i’m sorry, that’s something we have in common”, they are both sitting-slash-kneeling, and in the next scene (after a switch to other plotty events) they’re both standing, and katara is apologizing for yelling at him. i don’t think it was a particularly LONG addition to the conversation (i imagine katara asking what he means, zuko wanting to connect but not really knowing how to talk about it further due to The Abuse Trauma, katara apologizing for yelling because she thinks that’s why he’s not opening up, etc.) but what i AM trying to figure out (for fic-writing purposes) is what caused them both to stand back up?

[self-shippy]

inspired by @couldtheycatchkira!

EDIT yeah I meant Light Yagami not Yoshikage Kira sorgy 😭

[the-tortured-apollo-department]

I love how Rick Riordan subtly criticizes rich people through the gods

The glamour, the need to be served, the innocence about worldly matters

It's not about the gods themselves, but them as a metaphor for the abandonment of what it is to be truly human

I roll my eyes every time i have to read that Percy Jackson villainizes the gods

Something similar happens in Steven Universe for example, the Gems are almost immortal beings, they have a lot of power and yet are totally confused by simple things like emotions, and the need to care

The creator uses them as a metaphor to remind us that it is important to be human, and to take care of each other

[the-woman-upstairs]

It’s just…so painful to watch Armand readily submit in order to obtain the love he so desperately craves. And while it’s most assuredly a manipulative tactic, it’s still one borne out of fear and desperation. He cannot lose this person he’s come to love and so will become whatever they want, do whatever they want just so they’ll stay with him. But it won’t be enough. No matter how much he acquiesces or seeks to control (himself, others, the environment), he won’t be able to make Louis stay with him in the perfect life, perfect self he built in the hopes of finally being loved. It will all crumble with Armand left alone in the rubble of what he created, the author of his own abandonment.

[frootbyethefoot]

going off script!

[ID: a digital drawing with a completely black background, and, in white text, the script to danganronpa v3: killing harmony trial five. there are two boxes, one on the upper left, and one on the lower right. the upper left hand box shows kaito momota from danganronpa v3: killing harmony. he is smiling, and giving two, enthusiastic thumbs ups. the lower right hand box shows kokichi ouma, also from danganronpa v3. his hands are resting on his chin, and he is looking to the side, happily. both of them are overlayed in red. both of their faces are partially obscured by white question marks. in the center of a drawing is the red outline of a hydraulic press, and blood coming from under it. in the center of the press is a white square. inside the square are two hands, one kokichis, and the others kaito. kokichi is handing him the script for trial five. there is no color, other than black and white. END ID/]

(note trial five script transcript available courtesy of @/ oumakokichi on tumblr. their translations were a life saver making this!)