#and her face is cute so im happy

[milkbreadtoast]

Christelle doodle🤧

[grimstrawberry]

If I don't make light of everything, I'm gonna explode.

[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.

[tabooiart]

pearl to pearl communication pearl to pearl conversation

[vellichorsdesire]

day 48367 of blue hydrangeas domestic life au being my most favorite au everrr… we’re going shopping!!! ^_^

==

taglist: (interact with this post/let me know wherever if you’d like to be added or removed!! first time doing this thank you guys eeee 💗💗💗)

@hauntedhallwayzzz @artistlara @melomacaron @milkmallow28 @champmorado @heartofbalemoon @astral-express-family @sunflawyer

[lollytea]

I found some pictures of me from 2019 and I'm experiencing such indescribable emotions

[swordmaid]

thinking about how profound it must’ve been for shri’iia when she first received scratch’s ball (woman who has never gotten anything for free in her life ever)

[freaky-flawless]

Reblog and put in the tags how many dolls you've added to your collection in 2023, and what your favorite one is!

[moeblob]

Ananza realizing that Deacon's mom was a devoted follower of hers THEREFORE that's her son now, too! And she will dote on him and love him and never pick on him like all the other deities tend to do. That's her precious little boy who lives in another city and rarely gets to see her!

[moreaujeans]

IM FREEEEEE

[good-beanswrites]

@gunsli-01 AHH thank you so much for the request -- this was such an interesting one!! Sorry it took me forever to settle on something I liked asdfsdfsd, I absolutely loved the specific combination of those timelines and really wanted to touch on everything! This is set sometime in T2 👍I hope you're doing well too, thank you so much :D

“We do not wish to be around anybody,” Amane’s voice announced. Sound carried easily through the echoing prison: Mikoto heard her leave the dining hall and make her way to the common area. She narrowed her eyes when she saw him shuffling some cards in the corner, but settled beside him regardless. 

“Oi, does that make me nobody, then?” It seemed everyone these days had something to say about who he was and who he wasn’t. Still, he smirked at her. He was glad she was comfortable enough to sit here. The others had seemed to flinch away from him lately, even though he’d done nothing to make them afraid.

“You are different from the others,” she said. “You do not treat me as a child.”

Mikoto kept the surprise from showing on his face. He certainly did. Sure, he didn’t talk to her like some little thing to be coddled, but he acted with her in the exact same way he acted with his kid sister. Well, if Amane was content, he wouldn’t worry too much. Sometimes it’s best not to tell someone the truth if they’re already happy with their view. 

He was going to deal her into his card game, but she retrieved a stash of books she kept beside the chairs. “Ah, more studying? You don’t get tired of all that?”

“You’re an adult. You know that things like this must be taken very seriously.”

“Nope! Being an adult means you know when to take things seriously and when to slack off. Some things are important to treat seriously, and some things are important to have a little fun with.”

He dealt the cards for a solitary game, mindlessly slapping down some piles. He had nearly lost himself in thought when she spoke up again, this time very hesitantly.  

“Mikoto.”

He glanced over. 

She kept her eyes lowered. Though trying to appear dignified, Mikoto could see the embarrassment in her expression. “Is this spelled correctly?”

He leaned close, seeing her notes on biology and health. He tried to hide his surprise – the word wasn’t all that difficult to write out for someone who spoke like Amane. Then again, that was just what she wanted everyone to believe.

“I can’t find it in this book, I remember reading it somewhere else. I just… I wanted…”

He flashed a grin. “Ah, no problem! You’re really close – it’s like this…” He started spelling out the characters for her, throwing in a few completely random ones. 

Halfway through writing, she whipped her head up to him. “Do not tease me!”

He put on his biggest, most innocent eyes. “Hah? What are you talking about?” He continued spelling, even more wildly ridiculous than the first time. 

“Forget I even asked.” She hurried to grab her stubby eraser to start over. 

He laughed, snatching her pencil while she was occupied. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s like this.” He wrote it out for her. He pointed to another spot on her page that had caught his eye. “Ah, did you know the fun trick with this word?”

“Trick…?”

Mikoto wracked his brain for the exact details. He used to do this all the time when he was Amane’s age. She watched eagerly as he added a few lines to the page. 

“Tada!”

Her face scrunched up. “You just drew a cat.”

“Y-yeah, but I used the word to do it, see? That part makes his ears, and this the tail! Isn’t that fun?”

“You’ve ruined my notes once again.”

“Ruined?” He feigned offense. “This was the very skill that earned me my artist’s reputation in school! This little guy is the whole reason I’m a designer!”

She narrowed her eyes, trying to appear like she didn’t believe a word that he said while simultaneously studying him to see if she should believe a word he said. 

“Isn’t it impressive?”

Amane turned her withering stare to the little cat. “He doesn’t have any whiskers.”

Mikoto blinked. “I… guess he doesn’t.”

She reached over and grabbed the pencil from him. She started drawing them on herself. “Most cats have 24 whiskers, though of course it would be silly to draw so many.”

“Of course.”

“Some cats do have more. They are always symmetrical, so there’s always an even number. They’ll grow back if they fall out.”

Mikoto watched her face as she worked. At first he thought this was her attempt at saving her pride – she’d rattle off some animal facts and sound mature once more. But he saw that her attention was far more focused on the page than putting up an act.

“Does it hurt when they fall out?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

Her eyes glimmered. “No, it doesn’t! But they still don’t like when their whiskers are damaged. It’s what they use to see the world. They’re full of nerves. They communicate to the brain to tell them about the world.”

“Oooh, really?”

“Yes. They’re like a bug’s antennae. Or… maybe not. But a little like that. So it’s disorienting if they’re damaged.”

“I see! Hmm… that must be nice to have…maybe I should grow out my stubble like Kazui and get some whiskers of my own.” Mikoto spread his hands around his nose, mimicking them. He wiggled his fingers. He was prepared for her unamused expression, this time. 

“Humans can’t have them,” she huffed. “Regular hair doesn’t have nerves in it. It can’t feel anything.”

“We don’t know that,” he continued flaunting his new whiskers. “I think we should ask Kazui… or maybe Fuuta,” he said as the boy entered the room. He leaned close to Amane for a theatrically loud whisper. “Sometimes he looks like a cat to me. One of those really stupid orange ones.”

He didn’t have a chance to see her reaction, as Fuuta was up in his face within seconds. 

“The fuck are you saying about me?”

Mikoto spoke out of the corner of his mouth to Amane. “I hope he’s not the kind that bites…”

“All cats bite,” she told him. 

Fuuta looked between the two of them, his face red. “Just what are you trying to pull?” 

“What do you mean?”

“You’re really good with her,” he spat it like an insult. “You’ve got your little nicknames and your little jokes – but I’ve seen you otherwise. You care too much about work and rules to be so carefree. What do you gain by pretending to be a fun guy?”

Mikoto placed his palms over his own chest in a silly show of shock. “I am a fun guy!”

“Like hell you are. You’ve never once been like that with me, and we’re around the same age and everything. You just hang out with the old geezers instead. It’s like – oi, what’s that face for?” He narrowed his eye at Amane.

She was trying to smother a laugh. Mikoto encouraged her with a smirk of his own. “What is it?”

“Well…” Her eyes flicked nervously from Fuuta. She spoke to Mikoto, still unsure. “If you two never spend time together... Did you know, you need to spend time with cats… it’s called ‘socializing’ them. And if you don’t…”

“They get real mean!” Mikoto tipped his head back and laughed. He nudged Amane excitedly. “Perfect!” 

Fuuta sputtered protests, which only completed the analogy. “I’m serious! What’s with the different treatment?”

Amane lifted her chin. She put on her most instructive voice to tell him, “being an adult means you know that some people are important to treat seriously, and some people are important to have a little fun with.”

Mikoto matched her tone, nodding. “This girl gets it. Why can’t you be more mature like her, eh Fuuta?”

At last, she allowed herself a smile. 

Just as quickly, she turned back to her textbook. “Now, both of you are disturbing us while we study! Leave us be.” 

Even with her head bent over the page, Mikoto could see she kept on smiling.

[autism-corner]

guy is normal about being human and does NOT project animals onto the person he loves.

[deus-ex-mona]

of all the pages that the bookmark could’ve been placed in…

[sleevebuscemii]

met two very bad bitches today!!!!!!!!!!

[antiquatedsimmer]

Silas was working, and Helena, occupied with Eddy's illness and farm duties, couldn't organize Lucile's birthday celebration this year.

Fortunately, Josephine took a moment to bake a honey cake using some honey gifted by the Harrington's as a wedding gift.

Happy Birthday, Lucile! She was Now 19!

Small upda8! It's so cute that through the age up she kept her baby face!