#Im always open for anything

[hinamie]

spiraling

[suntails]

true love

[runtwithwolves]

drawing request lol maybe kyle and tolkein being bros?

Hey guys! have you seen our latest tiktok?

[ganondoodle]

blorbo disadvantage number one is never being able to draw them to your satisfaction bc the standard for them is unreachably perfect as default in a way that is different from the usual perfectionism problem

[sforzesco]

I got. thoughts. about valens and voices in imperial roman history. but I also got a lot of thoughts about uhhhhhh choosing your brother for co ruling the Fratricide Foundation Story Empire. many thoughts about themistius' oration too

Brotherly Love, Themistius (trans. Peter Heather & David Moncur)

⭐ places I’m at! bsky / pixiv / pillowfort /cohost / cara.app / insta

[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.

[boughclan-clangen]

moon 0, page 4

>the doctor is in.

PREVIOUS || NEXT FIRST

[pillow-talk-and-sleepy-cuddles]

hello people of tumblr. i bring u another snippet of that thing i mentioned when asked about collars...

Grian watched as Scar twisted his head as far back as he could while his collar was being pulled as tight as he could. Grian watched his eyes widened as he realized what he was holding - though he couldn't linger on the look on his face too long, for Scar turned away, burying his face into the pillows with a groan. How unfortunate, that he had barely been able to look at his surprise. Oh well.

"Grian," Scar groaned, arousal and embarrassment clear in his voice - oh, and the way his cock twitched just slightly and his tail swished, moving to reveal his asshole even more. "You're gonna - you're gonna kill me, mister!"

"Oh? What's wrong? What's got you all worked up?"

"You know what you did!" Scar clearly wasn't planning on elaborating more, so Grian tugged his collar, choking him for only a second, urging him to say what he wanted to hear. "You - you pulled out that strap after so long…!"

Grian supposed it had been a while since he had used this particular strap on - or topped at all even. Scar and him had had a fairly vanilla sex life the pass few months, as much as he loathed to admit it - they were both so busy with builds and other people that they didn't have time to indulge in kink or anything extra, only quickies and sleepy sex after a long night or early in the morning. The reason why Scar was so surprised to see this strap was that it was special - in that Grian usually used it when he wanted to get off while fucking Scar while not actually letting Scar come. It was double sided, after all - did you expect him to not want to come when he used it on the other? No, but it had been a while since they had used it that way.

"Scar," Grian started, faux sweetness in his voice. "This is a punishment. I have to teach you to behave. Of course this is the strap I'm going to use." A pause. "Unless you'll be good without it?" He loosened his grip on the collar, silently giving Scar an out if he wanted it. But Scar shook his head no, silently stating that he was fine with it, that he wanted this, his face still buried in the covers, tail still straining to reveal his hole, begging to be fucked by Grian. And for good measures, he also gave a thumbs up, a more obvious sign of his desire to go through with the situation. "That's what I thought. You need me to teach you to behave - no worries, you'll learn fast, I'm sure of it," He said smugly, grin spreading across his face as he gave Scar's ass a slap. Yes, he'd teach him, and he'd teach him well too.

eh. its not edited or anything and probably not. in character completely yet but ill fix it before i post it for real probably.

[ninkaku]

“they had something” and it’s gihun and frontman ?? im sick

[sophsun1]

at least the 911 peeps who follow me will start to get fed again after today lol. i know it's been kinda dry around here from me but in my defence 8A was rough to say the least and welp the fandoms been even worse #protecting my peace.

i'm manifesting good things for 8B and the reunion we all deserve 🥰

[mcytegg]

i fear my biggest weakness is having big ideas but also having adhd that nerfs me

[ganondoodle]

theres people that build the entire map of botw in fucking minecraft and im sitting here for the 100th time within less than a year crying bc i cant draw a line how i want

[xxplastic-cubexx]

gonna read all of House of M this weekend i think

[kirkwallguy]

ok i do have complaints and hate the gameplay (<- bad at it) but i am enjoying mass effect MUCH more now im out of the citadel.

[buddietommys]

"Why not?"

"I wish you were a girl."

[writingfreezer]

”would you still love me if i was a worm?” ratiorine/aventio

the air outside was filled with fog as the pair walked home from their respective jobs. to be fair, they did work for the same organization, just under different titles.

the younger of the two strutted along, hands in his front pockets as he looked around nonchalantly. every so often he’d fix the posture of his expensive watch or throw his overhanging bangs to the side. it looked almost intentional, how long his hair was.

the other man, who appeared to have a generally larger build than the other, walked beside him. his eyes were half-lidded as he looked forward, not in a tired way, but a pretty tense way. he wore clothing much different to the younger, loose-fitting blue pants and a very tight black top with some sort of blanket thrown around his shoulder, making him look like a greek philosopher. the younger wore a white suit with some green and black details, so you could tell their different taste in fashion.

the younger was whistling to a familiar tune as they walked, looking at the apartment complexes passing them by. suddenly, he turned to look at the taller one. he roamed his expression, searching for something that only he knew how to find. it went on for so long (not long at all) that the taller sighed and turned to look down at the man beside him with an irritated look.

”you’re staring,” he noted. his golden eyes shone in the afternoon sun, and it was hard to say that he didn’t suit the yellow glow of the evening as lighting.

”you are now as well, you know,” the younger remarked. he smirked with a boyish grin as he waited for the other to respond, which he did with only one look. the same look he’d been sporting since the shorter decided to strike up a conversation.

”alright, my bad.” the younger laughed and held his hands up in mock-surrender. now that he was tilting his head down, you could see the slight brown outgrowth in the roots of his hair. ”look, i was wondering something. it’s-”

as he looked up to continue explaining, he was met with the look from the older that he’d learnt meant ”please shut the fuck up.”

immediately, he did shut the fuck up and cleared his throat awkwardly to look forward.

the older furrowed his brows slightly, but only slightly, and blinked a few times. did he do something wrong? why did the younger stop talking?

he tried clearing his throat as well to show him that he was still present, but what he didn’t understand was that it added immensely to the already very tense and awkward situation. the younger, being fed up with this useless atmosphere, spoke up out of nowhere;

”would you still love me if i was a worm?” he asked, tone clear. he didn’t look up from the road, and he had somewhat buried his hands deeper in his pockets.

the older, taken slightly aback, tilted his head slightly as he walked.

”that depends,” he began, and he could immediately feel the younger’s mood dampening a little. he ignored the uncomfortable sting in his heart and continued. ”in this hypothetical scenario, am i still a human, or have i also been turned into a worm? or were we worms from birth? asexual freshwater planarians do not have a libido because they…”

the younger, who had regretted asking the question as soon as the words left his mouth, held back from sighing and instead zoned out somewhere far, far away as they walked back home. it was stupid, really, to ask the dr. veritas ratio, harborer of many phd’s including one in philosophy, a simple question about fucking worms. of course he had to turn it into a monologue that not even prometheus could top.

”…venturine. look at me.”

aventurine blinked away the fogginess of his sight and looked up to the man next to him. a small wave of shame crept up on him as he realized he’d probably missed the answer he had asked for. he nodded slowly with round eyes to show that he was listening.

”we must free ourselves of the hope that the sea will ever rest. we must learn to sail in high winds.” the doctor said, and the gambler knew very well that those were not his words, but someone far, far back who probably wore clothing similar to the man next to him. what does that mean again?

”it means that you should stop expecting me to not take your questions literally. i’m just exploring every answer that is available to me.” ah.

”well,” aventurine began, looking down again. ”if you could choose one answer, which would it be?”

”i cannot do that.”

”doctor, please-”

the doctor sighed and rubbed his nose the way he always did to show his irritation, as if everything else wasn’t enough. ”am i also a worm?”

aventurine thought long and hard about it. realistically, for most people, they’d say no, only the person asking is a worm. but, if he knew his partner well, he’d say the wrong answer if those were the circumstances, so he didn’t say that.

”yes, and we have been worms from the start,” he said, not really caring to sound very cheerful. ”and we are not asexual. we’re still gay.”

”actually, i’m bisex-”

”you get it.”

”…yes,” was all the doctor said. he continued walking and staring straight ahead as he did before.

the gambler blinked. ”what? yes to what?”

”… to the question. if you were a worm,” ratio sounded kind of awkward now, which was unusual for him. it was kind of nice to hear, actually.

”oh. so… yes, you’d love me if i was- if we were worms.” he slowly looked up to the taller man, holding his breath waiting for the answer, even though he probably knew what it was already.

”yes, that’s what i answered to,” ratio said bluntly.

”oh. that’s… nice to hear. thank you for your input.”

the shorter smiled and resumed to look around them as they walked, whistling on that same tune as before.