#this is the beginning of the end game for this AU

[inc0gnitoo]

repost from ao3- modern au!scara x fem!reader

CW… smut, scara is mean, AFAB reader, phone sex, etc etc..

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

it almost seemed fucking impossible to you that a day could go this wrong.

it started with the bus this morning. you chose to get up earlier than usual, wanting time to work on your assignment thanks to your procrastinating it til the due date. this wasn’t new for you, and it didn’t bother you either! it worked. it was your system. until you got too caught up with your articles, and when your eyes drifted to the time, you had under 4 minutes to scurry over to your bus stop. and you didn’t even pack your bag yet. rushing out the door, stomach empty and sweat beading down your forehead you ran to the bus and- it was late.

it only got worse from there.

university was a place to be. only good thing it had was food. after your first lecture, you decided to spoil yourself to a bagel which was your second choice on the menu, they ran out of your favourite. begrudgingly, you made your way to class. the people being even more poisoning than the source material. ignorant hallway dwellers, come on, we��re in university people! a classmate took your unassigned-assigned seat, your eye twitching in frustration. and it was only 10am. finally, after a long day of excruciatingly boring classes. you managed to get home, only after getting caught in traffic on the highway. just your luck, you kept saying, your mind twisted with rage.

body filled to the brim with exhaustion, you collapsed to your bed, lazily tossing your bag to the side of your bed with a groan. finally, your bed. tonight was for yourself, you decided. what better to do after a shitty day? you deserved a break, not having any assignments due for a while, you finally had the opportunity to just lay down, and do absolutely nothi-

bzzt.

“mm?” you hummed, peering over to your phone beside you. a text message, from scaramouche. a classmate of yours from highschool who ended up going to the same university as you for a separate major, engineering or something along those lines. raising a brow you leaned over, taking your phone and reading his message.

scara: Didn’t come say hi to me today

scara: Kinda rude, if you ask me

rolling your eyes, you sat up in your bed, clicking on your lamp on your bedside table before typing out a response..

you: i didn’t have a very good day today

you: everything seemed to go wrong

scaramouche, at home, let out a hum of agreement at your reply. he knew that feeling all too well. especially when it came to people. they made him so sick, he didn’t know why he even bothered on taking this degree.

scara: Mm, I see

scara: Wanna call and talk about it?

heart warmed as his request, you stared at it for a moment. you were really just going to stay alone tonight, play some games or something, occupy yourself in other ways that didn’t involve people but.. it was scara. he knew better than most people how frustrating life can get. and he’d listen too, maybe with a grumble or two. or a rant about humanity, but, he’d hear you out after a few.. maybe, rude comments.

you: give me 1 sec

getting up you turned off the big light, not understanding why you’d punished yourself by keeping it on in the first place, especially with your lamp on. now, your room had a warmer atmosphere, more comfy, and overall more relaxing. turning on your humidifier you let out a sigh of contentment, changing into a pair of pyjamas and relaxing yourself back into your bed. taking your phone, you texted scara-

you: ready :P

barely a couple moments go by before your phone begins to vibrate, picking up the phone, “hey.” scaramouche greets you, his voice tired and monotone.

“hi, how was your day? before i start bitching about myself, haha.”

a groan is heard from his side of the phone and a short shuffle through the mic, seemingly from a shifting position, “ugh, long. i’m really starting to get tired of a few of my classmates, such insolent people..” he replied, eyes rolling. you imagined, at least, just from his tone.

“ah, you’re telling me..”

and the monologue began.

you weren’t sure just how long you were talking for or how frustrated you felt about the day. but it felt good getting it off your chest. relieving yourself with a bit of bitching is always the best comfort, you thought. scaramouche on the other hand.. seemed a bit, distracted. it didn’t seem like much to you, him not being as responsive as usual, a bit of a shuffle or two coming from his end, an ‘mm’ of agreement. that wasn’t necessarily off limits when it came to the question of ‘is scara acting weird?’ it was when you began to settle down a bit, your emotions returning back down, your anger beginning to lower that you heard a muffled murmur, almost spoken under his breath, “_____..”

what?

you almost froze in place, pulling the phone closer to your ear in an attempt to hear more but, to no avail. pondering whether or not you should, you spoke, “scara?”

a hurried movement, slightly covering the mic, scaramouche spoke up, “yeah, yeah- i’m here.” he mumbled. physically of course he was, there to listen for her. but mentally, scaramouches mind had travelled to other places. his voice betrayed him in that way, sounding almost strained and the husk of his voice easily portraying just how distracted he was.

innocently, you spoke up, “y-you just.. sound tense, is all. are you alright?”

foolish you were, he thought. such an idiot, not being able to read his tone, understand the shuffling and the movement, the whispery gasps he’d been letting out unintentionally. by god, he was beyond grateful you were this oblivious, the excitement of your cluelessness almost encouraged these bad thoughts to begin with.

“yeah, i-i’m fine.” scaramouche stuttered, “you don’t worry about me..” a few sounds, another heavy breath, “just keep talking all cute like that.”

what..? (again.)

what was happening right now? he had befuddled you, thoughts rolling through your brain attempting (and failing) to find a reason for his odd behaviour. scaramouche was a very, very closed off guy. and not one for compliments. of course, you’d get one from him every once a while, earning a ‘wow, you actually managed to do that,.’ or a ‘yeah, good job.’

but, cute..?

your question left your head, coming out your mouth, “cute?”

a shudder ran down scaramouches body, a bead of sweat, and a wave of warmth down his groin. so stupid, he thought, so so stupid. he loved it, “ah- uh huh.” he affirmed your question, a small curse leaving his breath, a sound of readjustment, switching his phone to another hand.

your brows furrowed, starting to get a little frustrated now, “why are you being so-“

“stop asking so many questions, just fucking talk.”

he bit his lip, a sharp intake of breath before it, sounding restrained and almost.. uncomfortable. you had absolutely no idea the strain he was putting himself through, the cause of all this until-

it clicked.

was he.. masturbating?

“scara, a-are you..?” it was silent for a moment. the only sounds were not just of your own heavy breath, but scaramouches as well, heavy pants that you now realize were not just in your head. these, this time, did not go unnoticed.

finally, after a billowing and agonizing silence, scaramouche breathed in, speaking up..

“yeah..” he exhaled, finally accepting he’d been caught. part of him had a sick obsession with you being as lost as you were, but perhaps your knowledge of him getting himself off to your voice was enough too. if you’d just stay there, keep talking, he wouldn’t be a bother. except he was being a bother, gasping and breathing into your ear like that. over the phone, it almost made it worse.

your mind had begun to drift, and you spoke, softly, “i-i-..”you struggled to form words, a reaction, a response, but he spoke for you.

“cmon… speak up..” scaramouche whispered, breathy, so so breathy. it was almost incoherent from how sharp he was breathing. his hand sped up, you could tell, hearing the shuffling increase over the mic. your heart began to pound.

“do..” hesitating, you bit your lip. was this about to be a huge mistake? “do you want me to help you?”

a groan left his mouth, his head fell back onto his pillow, trying his hardest not to moan instead. “fuck, yes. please.”

nearly choking on your own spit you attempted to speak, placing your hand to your chest to feel your own heartbeat, pounding so hard in your chest. this all felt fake. like, you were about to wake up from some sick fucking fantasy. a dream.

pulse quickening, you parted your lips to speak, “y-you sound so hot right now..”

scaramouches breath hitched, a moan caught in his throat.

okay, maybe he was grateful you figured it out.

his hand pawed at his boxers, finally deciding to tug them off, stroking the tip of his cock. his anticipation was evident in how hard he was, the pre-cum sliding down the sides of his length. how fucking humiliating, he thought. he watched his own hand as he began to stroke himself, thoughts of it being your own. those pretty little hands of yours. the idea in his head had been haunting him. scaramouche was obsessed with you. and had been since highschool. you were so smart, so innocent, and oblivious to him. he swore he was going crazy, when he’d go home, masturbate to the thought of you.

“ohoh, yeah?” scaramouche whispered, his breathing only quickening further as he heard a shift from your end.

that shift.. was you sliding your hand into your shorts, teasing your clit with your fingers through your underwear, almost feeling guilty giving yourself the pleasure of touching it bare. “u-uh huh..” you murmured, shamefully. it was going to eat you alive.

“maybe..” scaramouche begins, his voice mellow and hushed, “maybe i wanna hear you too…” your heart stops, he heard you.

“i know what you're doing right now.”

your hand not daring to stop, even almost speeding up from his tone of voice, the movement was definitely heard over your mic. this made scaramouche smirk, a sigh of satisfaction as he continued.

“tell me, ____. what are you doing to yourself?”

moaning quietly, nervously, with much hesitation and an evident feeling of lust, you managed to speak, “i-i’m.. touching..” you cut yourself off, a whispered gasp as you rubbed at the sensitive nerve, an eye closing from pleasure. scaramouche, what are you doing to me? you kept repeating in your mind. you were a mess because of a fucking voice over the phone. is this how desperate you’ve become?

but it wasn’t just any voice. it was scaramouches. and if he kept talking to you like that you’d listen to it all day.

“yeah? ngh- s-slowly? or fast..?” scaramouche moaned, a bit of a whimper in his throat.

“slowly, slowly..” you echoed yourself, breathing out a held exhale of air, “w-wanna savour this..” admitting to your feelings, you found yourself forming a knot in your groin. this exhale, that erotic breathy noise from you, is enough to earn you a soft moan from scaramouche on the other line.

he stiffened at your words, eyes screwed shut at the image he’d burned into his mind of you. yearning to hear more, he spoke up again, his hand beginning a slow pace as he stroked his cock, “oh, fuck. you wanna savour me..” he grinded his teeth, jaw shifting, “how does that feel, ah? good?” his voice is condescending, low and almost.. degrading, picturing you beneath him as he speaks. believing you as something below him, both physically and sexually.

”ahg-mhm..” you breathlessly agreed, “feels good, scara.” slowly, you overcame that guilt. that fear, it didn’t matter anymore. he wanted this. he wanted you. that thought was enough to allow yourself to feel it too, slipping your hand into your underwear and sliding a finger between your wet folds, a gasp escaping you.

biting his lip so hard he could draw blood, he held back a soft whimper, the sound of his name spoken from your lips like that. it was driving him crazy how the only thing keeping him from you was this damn phone. a short laughter came from him, low and raspy, “nngh, yeah… so good. you sound so good..” he spoke, managing to keep his voice just at a level enough for you to hear him. hear his want. his need for you.

a curse fell out of your lips, “fuck, ah..” drawing a faster circle on your clit, your mind began to slip. slipping to places you wish you were, positions you wish scaramouche was holding you in. what his hand would feel like doing this to you instead. and the lewd noises being caused by him instead, not just you rutting weakly into your own palm. his voice was so hoarse, just a little whiny, sending a rush of blood to your head. he’d have you against the wall, slamming into you from behind-

“god, i’d give anything to be there right now. under my hands, fuck, all the pretty noises you’d make.”

immediately a moan exhaled from your chest, “a-ah, yeah.” you moaned, “want your hands on me..” in your head, they already were! all over you, his mouth too! saying more of those things to you, right in your ear, spoken through hushed whispers and gritting teeth.

scaramouche could feel it in every single bone in his body. every fucking last drop of his blood wanted to hear you scream his name. his grip tightened oh his phone, a scratchy moan coming through the microphone. “ohh..” he laughed breathily, stretching out into a whiny moan as his cock hardened to the touch of his hand, his pace speeding, “you sound so pathetic, such sweet sweet sounds..”

you could hear him, so lewd and filthy, his hips were bucking subconsciously into his own hand. in his mind too, you were there. not just in his ear, “fuck, i bet you look so dirty right now, fucking yourself on your hand.”

“please, scara,” you whined, rolling your hips, causing a muffle over your mic, an irritated groan comes from him. if you’re gonna be doing this, why aren’t you paying attention? he needs to hear every fucking word.

“can’t hear you. louder.”

“scara.” you moaned. god, that voice of yours was intoxicating.

“oh, the way it just rolls off your tongue-ughn..”

scaramouche whimpered, the sounds leaving his lips just above a whimper, words becoming impossible to form. his mind was blanking, fogging with lustful ideas and thoughts, possessed by his craving for you, “are you close? god, tell me you’re close. i can hear it.. the way you’re whining.”

responding with only a moan, your wrist beginning to ache from how vigorously you slid your fingers in and out of yourself, your other beginning to shake while holding your phone to your ear. you didn’t even consider the possibility of moving it away, wanting-no, needing to have his voice right in your ear. more than just in your head. it was here now, he was doing this. with you. just if only he was physically here.. but right now, that didn’t matter.

scaramouches voice alone was bringing you to the edge and he himself knew that too, utilizing his tone in such a way he knew it would tip you over. he wanted you to do this over and over and over, beg him to touch you, to do anything to you, and he’d do that til he was satisfied. maybe he’d even let you touch his cock if you asked nicely. having you do it yourself, instead of his hand.

grunting out a moan, you spoke, “mmfg, yes, scara,” whining, breathing, tears stinging at your eyes, “please-ngh, don’t stop talking.”

“ugh, i-i won’t, won’t-fuck.” forcing more harsh words out of his mouth, scaramouche lets his eyes flutter shut, pumping his cock like it was the last thing he’d ever touch, wishing it was your body instead. he’d be happy dying inside of you. feeling you clenching, tightening around him, grinding down on him in a needy, feverish manner. his grip fastened on his hardness, a guttural moan escaping his lips, “these fucking hands of mine would make you feel so good, ____.”

“y-yes! yes, please! need them so bad, need them instead-ah!” you gasped. now you knew your neighbors would be mad. this apartment was not thick enough for this. imagine if he was in your room now, too. your face pressed into your sheets, fuck, probably against your door knowing him. he wouldn’t give you the chance to lay down. you’d be scraping paint off the wall. and skin off his back. this was too much. all too much. too much too much-

“i’ll have you, ngh- screaming on my cock after this. just you wait-“ interrupting his own monologue with a hoarse moan, his hand pumping a delicious pace on his dick, he threw his head back, “cum, _____. do it already. do it with me.”

almost at his words, treating them like it was an order your body gave out on your, back arching in a cramp inducing position, cumming on your hand just like he instructed. that knot released, sending waves upon waves of a much needed climax, “pleasepleaseplease- scara!”

you were reeling in ecstacy, and from the sounds scaramouche was making, you were sure he was too.

scaramouche found himself reeling on his hand, his orgasm coming just as yours did, throbbing with cum. curses left his mouth, a mess of words and your name and other things you couldn’t pick up over the ringing of your own ears. his hand loosened its grip, weakly falling to his side as he panted almost erratically, a round of silence filling the call with nothing but breathing from both ends. it was scara that spoke first, his voice a bit weak, cracky, “was that good?”

breathing out, struggling to respond, “oh.. oh yeah. for sure.” you affirmed, sliding your hand out of your shorts. the exhaustion returned now, after the pleasure.

as if he sensed it, he spoke up once more.. “don’t get comfortable. i’m coming over.”

…okay. maybe your day didn’t go that wrong.

[timmo-eggo]

MY FINDING FRANKIE OCS!!!! Specifically, lads made for my au called Remanufactured AU (if you wish to know more they're all under the tag "remanufactured au"). You already know Reese the mechanic (speaking of which I forgot to put on the side that he has a bottom tooth gap gdi me) but I haven't talked about Millie so here's an info dump!!

Like shown in the game ending she doesn't have a great living situation. She's a poor 16-year-old teen who had neglectful parents and she only found solace in parkouring. So when she got the video tape, Millie immediately packed food and bus money to get to the trampoline park. Even though she and every person who enter the park knows the risk of being one of the participants, she didn't care if she could very much die cause she would go out doing what she love and if she does win then aye 5 million to bring her and her parents a better life!

Insert the whole gameeee andd Millie realizes how little her parents care about her and was convinced by Frankie that she and the show needed one another. She would stay for the next season and during the wait, she would live in the trampoline park. She eventually was given the choice to stay somewhere else but she declined it.

She's pretty -_- but clearly a sarcastic prick. Classic case of not used to emotional attachments aside from her parents before and social ineptness. She fears the animatronics but always tries to put a bold face on to not show weakness.

She and Reese do NOT get along at the beginning. Reese thinks she's a fucking brat just cause he hates non-polite children and Millie thinks he's a huge pussy and is in her living space, aka the whole trampoline park. Oh yeah have some silly kin onions I made for the two of them. I didn't follow the guideline though of the inner circle being characters that are the closest to them tho.

[ultimate-marysue]

Gotham Funger AU

For the uninitiated: Fear and Hunger (lovingly called Funger) is a duology of survival horror games featuring a similar world to ours with its own mythology. The name comes from the Fear and Hunger meters in game that, with the body meter will put the horror in surviving. It is infamous due to its difficulty and unfairness, since there’s no tutorial at all and everything can kill you, give you nasty statuses or make you lose limbs. Other claims to fame are its coin flip system that can randomly insta kill you and random generated loot (it resets each playthrough so some runs are wildly different from others depending on luck), a combat system based on chopping the enemies’ limbs (and them chopping yours off, permanently) and the games let’s just say very NSFW and violent nature. A gimmick in the first game is an orgy that heals your body and a cannibalistic feast that restores your hunger meter.

With all this in mind, here’s my idea for a funger game set in Gotham (part 1, plot and setting):

It all begins as Gotham is being evacuated (Arkham Knight style) due to Joker’s threats to gas the entire city with Joker Venom in three days. The main objective is to shut down the different gas production and distribution points across the city and defeating Joker. This is complicated thanks to a variety of Rogues accidentally or purposely blocking the way and causing their fair amount of chaos.

Due to the evacuation the streets are mostly deserted, and as the days pass the get more and more empty. First day morning you may still find some random citicens, from then on, it’s just thugs and jokerized monsters. As the days pass, previous thugs you hadn’t sent to jail get jokerized and jokerized victims get more and more monstruous following these stages:

Smiler (still mostly human, just stronger and “crazier”. They have bloody smiles and other joker features. A variety is the Brawler, bigger in size)

Agent of Chaos (humanoid but definitively no longer human. They’re tall and twisted, with more teeth. Still capable of human speech, they’ll use it to drain your Fear Meter. On a coinflip attack, they can carve a joker smile into their enemies preventing the use of rebreathers and causing damage each time you eat)

Harbinger of Madness (No longer humanoid, several mouths carved into their body, coinflip attack will eat one of your limbs resulting also in a permanent sanity de-buff),

Abomination (only on the third day, just a horrible blob off meat and smiles. It doesn’t do anything but drain your sanity, if you don’t kill it fast enough or have the ability to flee it will completely deplete your sanity meter and the character will begin the jokerization process)

All of the Funger Gods are real and exist in this world (but those that died in previous games are either forgotten or don’t hold real power) Current Gods prancing about would be: Sylvian, Gro-Goroth for the old Gods (Rher, Vinushka and God of the Depths confirmed dead by the end of Termina), All-Mer, The God of Fear and Hunger, Machine God and Sulfur Gods for Ascended Gods (All-Mer should be dying and confirmed dead by the end of the game to reflect how organized religion is dying out in this trying times).

Joker would be considered a servant of Rher, God of madness, but much like Per’kele, his real master is the God of Sulfur. Rher is dead, but madness, destruction and chaos take form in the new God and also his servant. Or at least that’s the general interpretation. Joker is actually a manifestation of the God of Sulfur, that’s why no one knows his origin and seems to be unkillable. His plan is to sacrifice the entirety of Gotham to properly finish his ascension to Godhood on Earth.

Much like in previous games the characters can cause the ascension of a new God to the pantheon: Gotham, Lady of night, cities and Justice. Basically, a Goddess that represents the path of modern cities and gives her favor to the vigilantes that protect them. She’s a good entity for the most part, but not a kind one. She is big cities given form, which means she also stands for all of the filth and depravity found within their streets. To achieve ascension and completely vanquish the Joker a character must become her Dark Knight by raising their affinity to maximum. This path will obviously be easier for Batman, but technically each batfam member could take his place (will discuss in a different part).

From a map perspective I would use the No Man’s Land map as a base. As any Funger player will tell you: the crazier the map, the better. Some areas would be completely inaccessible to make it more manageable. Other parts of the City might be only temporarily inaccessible or only accessible to certain characters. Some of this means may be: Joker or Fear gas (you’ll need a re breather), land mines (you will need a character with gadgeting or mechanic skills to disarm them), locked doors (keys, lockpicking, fighting the door, chainsaws/axes), chains (Bolt cutter, keys), blown up buildings/heights (Grappling gun).

The Bat cave acts a bit like Prehevil Bop and Donovan’s house. It’s quite a ways away, which deters the Bats from depending on it. It holds different pieces of randomly generated gear, a hexen table, ritual circle, a chest, and the Bat computer serving as a bookshelf. There are safe sleeping cots and Alfred will bring you a drink/food as needed. Other semi-safe spaces include: Jason’s safe house, the clock tower and Harley’s (a bar Harley Quinn has taken over)

Different locations may hold different resources like ritual circles, computers, side quests, main plot objective, but also enemies and rogues: Two-Face at City Hall’s Court, Penguin at the Iceberg, Killer Croc in the sewers, Poison Ivy at the Botanical Garden, Scarecrow at Arkham, and Riddler can’t be found physically but you can find riddles all over the place. The bats must balance dealing with all the rogues destroying the city while stopping the bigger threat of Joker. To be able to arrest any enemies you need to clear the GCPD headquarters (They can randomly scape) or for a more permanent solution, clear Arkham Asylum.

Part 2: Rogues

[satsukidoodles404]

Can't believe I forgot about these two!! Just like I can't believe I have to type this all out again 🥲

These two sticky note doodles was the main reason for my descent into Danganronpa once again!!

Kokichi Ouma from my Time Traveler au! Featuring his beta 3-C design!! (I just liked the fit, very cutesy! Will link what it looks like) And an Ahoge! Because, well why not? Now that's out of the way, time to rant about the two AUs rotating in my head!

Time Traveler Kokichi ends back all the way to the beginning of the game shortly after his death in the press™! (I'd put a spoiler warning, but considering it's Danganronpa... I think that says enough)

And my current favorite au idea that was absolutely inspired by two fics that I will be linking;

"If Kokichi was in Danganronpa 2: Good Bye Despair"! Not the actual au name, but it basically gives you the gist right?

Kokichi wakes up in Jabberwocky Island after watching the end of his game as a Ghostie! He's definitely tired of being forced into another killing game. Once was enough! But yes, he ends up on the beach of Jabberwocky Island to his shock. (He was 101% sure he was dead!) And not only that, he was already registered as a student as the rest of them!

Like I mentioned, entirely inspired by two fics! The first for the entire idea, and the other for relationship dynamics! Here they are! If anyone is interested on either of the mentioned AUs I'm planning on drawing, my ask box is always open! (No seriously, please ask, let me yap–)

Day something, of being deprived of digital device for art. I thought I'd be fine, until Danganronpa decided to clutch me in its hold once again. ._.

So sketchbook and sticky note doodles I took pictures of in the dead of the night :D

[dire-kumori]

Idea: Reaper Mike's younger self murder is like messing up time- Other stuff from his time just starts appearing like Some of the animatronics from his pizzeria and other equipment. Maybe even some of his family... Scrap baby or scrap trap dropping In a time before both of them turned into monsters would be interesting.... Wonder if either of them would do the same thing as the reaper....

Love this! If adult Mike could come back in time, it's 100% plausible other things and people from different points in time could also appear in young Mike's time. This could be a result of time 'wearing down,' so to speak, after countless repetitions of this same short time period. And with the strain of additional time travelers, it begins to break down even further...

The timeline breaking down results in the whole town of Hurricane becoming the setting of a large scale Ultimate Custom Night. The possessed animatronics are confused by their new surroundings, scared of the situation they now find themselves in, and react as they always do; violently. Mike takes his little siblings and tries to hide from the chaos (William's always shut up in his basement or at Fredbear's these days, and he's long realized he can't count on Henry) while the animatronics run amok. People are killed by the rampaging machines and even the police struggle to contain them. The government moves in to shut down the roads, set up blockades, and essentially seal in the entire town to prevent the animatronics from escaping until a more permanent solution can be found.

Scraptrap and Scrap Baby are initially confused and enraged like the others. But when they realize that Michael is also there, they forget all else and pursue him with single minded determination. Now, Scrap Baby is merely following Scraptrap's lead in order to make her 'father' proud. Scraptrap, on the other hand, is filled with pure, unrelenting rage at the one who destroyed his life over and again, and keeps tormenting him even in his death. He's less animalistic than the others, but no less vicious and he doesn't care whether he kills the Reaper or young Mike.

In fact, he'd relish the opportunity to make both of them suffer.

[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.

[meamiki]

[reverse entry AU]

so glad the work week is over!

no more meetings!

what do you mean its only tuesday.

[saucywendeee]

If spawn adventurer Astarion met a non Tav Seraphina after the events of BG3 - New Beginnings AU

[juststupid882]

THE WITCH

Coming soon: Fantasy AU REMAKE

[greatgoddyke]

some bobbles (+ two unfinished things)

[nenoname]

After finally graduating high school, Ford is ready to put his hometown far behind him, only to end up being abducted on his way to Backupsmore and wakes up on an empty sinking ship with a strange bracelet reading “6” stuck on his wrist… Eight other strangers have met the same fate, all with a different number on their bracelets, ranging from one to nine, and the group receives a message from someone called 0. Their anonymous captor gives them a simple order: participate in a deadly game to escape the boat or drown. (a 999 au)

wrote a prologue chapter to my 999 au!!! (...just don't expect this to be a complete fic or anything tho)

[galaxiadecima]

I am horrendously in love with Tim Stoker

[griseldabanks]

For Let Me Count the Ways, 15 for any two characters, of which at least one has not yet appeared in the Foster Family AU, please?

Let Me Count the Ways ask game

Fandom: FMA Characters: Riza and Rebecca Catalina Prompt: "What? I meant it as a compliment."

“So?” Rebecca said, pulling her yogurt and fruit parfait closer and digging in. “How's it feel to know you'll be a mom soon?”

Riza focused on pouring the little cup of creamer into her coffee, watching the white swirl through the rich brown. “I don't. Feel like one, I mean.”

“Mmm.” Rebecca swallowed her mouthful of yogurt, gesturing with her spoon. “My sister said the same thing when she had her first. But hey, at least you don't have to go through all the trouble of actually giving birth, right? My sister was in labor for, like, two days.” She shuddered. “I mean, yeah, kids would be nice, but....”

Riza watched the steam swirling up from the surface of her coffee. “Sometimes I can't help but feel...that maybe we've made a mistake.”

Rebecca cocked her head to one side. “How so?”

Swallowing hard, Riza turned her head to look out the window, watching people passing by. Couples walking arm-in-arm, people rushing along on their way somewhere important...a mother walking hand-in-hand with a little girl skipping along the sidewalk, chattering away excitedly about something and gesturing with her free hand.

“They know everything about having a mother...and I don't have the faintest idea. I'm sure I...what if I...they've already been through so much....” She let out a nervous breath, trying to speak past the growing lump in her throat. “If I'm not everything they need...I'll only be making it worse. For everyone.”

“And what makes you think you're not exactly what they need?”

Riza blinked at the unexpectedly soft look in her best friend's eyes. “What?”

Rebecca winked. “Maybe what a couple of unconventional boys need is an unconventional mother.”

Shooting her an unimpressed look, Riza finally took a sip of her coffee. “And here I thought you might actually give me some encouragement.”

“Hey, I meant it as a compliment!”

“Really? Because here I thought you were just calling us all strange.”

With a shrug, Rebecca scooped up the maraschino cherry on top of her parfait and plopped it onto Riza's saucer, like she always did. “Strange doesn't have to be bad.”

Popping the cherry into her mouth, Riza savored its sweetness as she deftly tied the stem into a knot with her tongue, then stuck her tongue out at Rebecca, stem and all.

Rebecca simply took a dignified bite of her parfait.

“Still,” Riza murmured after a moment, as if there had been no interruption in her musings, “this is the situation we face, and I suppose we'll all just have to try our hardest to make the best of things.”

“So, have you met them yet?”

A smile found its way to Riza's face as she nodded, thinking back over the day when they'd all sat down in Mrs. Rockbell's kitchen to discuss the matter. “Edward is so grown-up already. He's just twelve, but he's taken on the responsibility of raising his brother. I think he's of the opinion that they don't need foster parents at all.

“Alphonse is a dear,” she added, remembering the boy's shy smile across the table at her. “He doesn't talk, but he's very kind. And Edward always seems to know what he wants to say. I can tell Alphonse looks up to his brother a lot. I'm glad they get along so well.”

“And Roy?” Rebecca asked.

“What about Roy?”

“Will he get along with the boys? I mean, we already know you're going to rock at being a mom, but....”

Riza took a sip of coffee, wishing she felt as confident about it. “It's going to take a while to adjust, I'm sure. Originally, we were both thinking it would be a baby....”

Rebecca made a sympathetic sound. Their eyes met, and a whole conversation they didn't need to have again passed by in a moment of silence. After letting that silence settle between them, Rebecca lifted the mood with a deftness Riza always envied. “Still, I bet he was relieved that he won't be changing any diapers.”

“Don't tell anyone, but I'm a little relieved myself,” Riza laughed.

“But Roy,” Rebecca reminded her. “Did he hit it off with the boys?”

Riza couldn't suppress a small smile. “If by 'hit it off' you mean he started bickering like he was twelve himself....”

Rebecca gaped at her. “He didn't! What was he trying to do, sabotage everything you've been working for all this time?”

But Riza was still smiling, thinking back to the way Edward had gone from slouching, unimpressed, in his chair to yelling at the top of his lungs and challenging Roy to a Super Smash Bros. match to settle their differences. She remembered the way Alphonse had smiled for the first time, his eyes dancing with glee as he watched them, even as he half-heartedly tugged on Edward's sleeve in a vain attempt at restraining him.

“I don't know what Roy was thinking,” Riza said fondly. “But I think that's what sealed the deal. I think what those boys really wanted to know was whether we could handle what they're really like.”

Rebecca returned to her parfait with a shake of her head. “Yep. You're all perfect for each other.”

[energeticpoltergeist]

i have yet again drawn something Fire Emblem related

still kinda sucky at drawing FE characters, but im slowly figuring it out and seeing as i have plans(which i'll hopefully be able to act upon sooner then later, no promises though) im going to be getting a lot of practice in my future anyways yeah, Chrom time

[aceghosts]

ROONEY SHEPARD (CP2077 AU)

You only feel it when it's lost Gettin' through still has a cost Quietly, it slips through your fingers, love Falling from you drop by drop -Who We Are by Hozier

TEMPLATE by @marivenah

Taglist (Lmk if you want to be added or removed): @sstewyhosseini, @nightbloodbix, @strangefable, @marivenah

[iiowaw]

Eli Josten & Jean Moreau

From End of Beginning by IIOWAW (you must be logged in to read)

From the moment that they had first been partnered, Eli and Jean had taken to each other in the same way that feral cats tended to—with the sort of unwavering urgency that leads to shelters writing “bonded pair” on their info cards and refusing perfectly good homes for both in favor of finding one that will take them together.

“Since I was fourteen years old, I have told you everything; you have been my closest, and at times only, confidant. You are my favorite person in the world.”

They have crawled out of hell, accepting a helping hand here and there but mostly doing it on their own in the long run, and now they exist together in the sun.

My favorite best friends/platonic soulmates.