#a part of my letter to her

[ennve]

the one on the right doesn't even look like yeseo omg I kinda ruined it with the watercolor why did I even attempt the watercolors I'm so pissed😭😬😬☹️☹️

[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.

[da-janela-lateral]

My artstyle is by no means completely consistent, but I've seen so many wonderful and gorgeous references these days that I had to make my own chart of how I draw them!

[corsairspade]

Halenthir scenario where they get married for tax benefits (in a platonic good friends sort of way) and fall in love long distance via sending each other letters with ideas on how to best leverage their marriage for tax evasion.

[jilyandbambi]

so a Yellowjackets AU where mari says something to get herself kicked out of the cabin, and she dies of exposure and gets eaten at the bachanalian banquet instead of Jackie, who LIVES, who's there at Shauna's side when she goes into labor, stroking her hair and letting Shauna squeeze her hand hard enough to sprain her fingers, who keeps Shauna calm enough she has a (comparatively!!!!!!) easier delivery, who is the reason the(ir) baby lives.

who finally, after months of feeling adrift and useless because she’s not a hunter or a butcher or a prophet or a captain (anymore) finds her purpose in the wilderness. who painstaking sews patchwork baby onesies and cloth diapers from the girls' spare clothes (Offerings, not donations). who makes a baby sling from animal pelts and backpack straps. who makes a rattle from sticks and pinecones and some light blue pebbles Jackie found by the lake one day and saved. who makes sure the cabin stays warm and clean for Luke Dylan (from 90210--they couldn't decide whether to go with the actor or the character).

who builds them another shelter from blankets and animal hides after the cabin burns down. who keeps shauna and their baby warm through that first terrible winter and the one that followed.

and one day in 1998, Canadian forest rangers happen upon that American high school soccer team that went missing 2 years back. they find a group of starving teens and a baby, a little over a year old, two of the girls wrapped around him--and each other

and when the rescue team tries to separate them the one with tangled, golden brown hair bears her teeth and Growls

[artharakka]

“Suru on eläin, jota ei voi koskaan kesyttää kokonaan.” ... “Ilves nostaa päätään ja tuijottaa minua. Se räpyttää silmiään kerran, toisen. Niissä hehkuu Maan auringon kadotettu valo, joka siilautuu vihreiden lehtien läpi. Sen sisuksista nousee matala, vaimea kehräys. Se näykkäisee sylissäni lepäävän käteni syrjää kevyesti, lempeästi, nuolaisee sitten peukaloani.” — Emmi Itäranta. Kuunpäivän kirjeet

****

“Grief is an animal that can never be wholly tamed.” ... “The lynx raises its head and stares at me. It blinks once, twice. In its eyes glows the lost light of Earth’s sun, filtered through green foliage. From its depths rises a low, faint purr. With its teeth it nips the back of my hand resting on my lap, lightly, gently, and then licks my thumb.” — Emmi Itäranta. The Moonday Letters. Quote tranlated by me (unofficial)

[lesmisscraper]

Eponine watering Mabeuf's garden. Volume 4, Book 2, Chapter 3.

Clips from <Il cuore di Cosette>.

[uniquezombiedestiny]

disease of the body, disease of the mind

[moliathh]

[alutegra/alucard x integra, hellsing]

[ladyalicentshightower]

I think people overestimate how feminist team black is. If someone brings up how Baela should be the heir to Driftmark, it's always "she would've been Queen if not for the Greens!", ignoring that 1, she would be Queen consort, not a Queen in her own right, and 2 she has a legitimate claim in her own right to Driftmark. Team Black's goal is to crown Rhaenyra, but Rhaenyra becoming Queen isn't a win for feminism because it does nothing to dismantle the rest of the patriarchal system that exists in Westeros. From what we've gotten so far, it reads that Rhaenyra wants to be the exception and not the rule. Rhaenyra has made a lot of bad political decisions, which means she can't acknowledge Baela's claim because it would weaken her own claim (blatantly admitting her eldest sons are illegitimate would not end well for her to say the least). So she betrothes Jace and Luke to Baela and Rhaena to kind of atone for that, like as a consolation prize Baela will be Queen and Rhaena will be lady of Driftmark, neither of them would hold either title in their own right. It's good matches because the kids like each other and will treat each other well, but it's not a feminist win or a feministic liberation. It's usurpation, usurpation that takes place because Rhaenyra has to do damage control after having illegitimate children and after a serious of bad political decisions (both hers and her fathers, Viserys is the arbiter of this entire mess). To me, Rhaenyra is very reminiscent of Mary Queen of Scots, I can see a lot of elements drawn from Mary's history in Rhaenyra's story and character, down to their sons eventually taking the crown they failed to claim/keep.

[camellcat]

you ever realize you never properly learned how to say a character's name, so by the time you finally HEAR it, you have no idea who they're talking about? cause I feel like I keep doing this and it's very confusing to keep being corrected like that

[lexa-griffins]

"I'm not yours anymore" for the fic title

Oh!!!!!!!!

This... this title right here works SO well for the type of fic i crave despite being angsty enough where i probably couldn't either write it or read it without getting mad.

Lexa and Clarke, college sweethearts. Long engagement. Lexa works long hours at the office since Clarle recently realized medicine wasn't her passion and decided to take a job that pays less but lets her have the chance to take a few random classes to see what she wants.

It comes crumbling down from there. They have put the wedding at the back burner for now as they try to remain afloat. Clarke, who spent her college years so focused on her studies now has the freedom to enjoy the little pieces of college life she missed on and she does. While Lexa works and worries, Clarke goes out to drink with kids nearly a decade younger than her. She goes out more and more often. She starts leaving her engagement ring at home.

Lexa tries to be understanding and supportive. That's all she ever is. In every aspect of their life. She gets it when Clarke is done after Lexa made her cum and doesn't feel like giving back. She gets it when she is tired from work and classes and neglects the housework allocated to her. She gets it when she prefers to spend more time on her phone than with her.

Lexa gets it... but she is reaching the end of her rope. They are grown adults. With jobs and rent to pay and a wedding to plan and a life to build together. But Clarke seems suddenly so desinterested in all of that. Drinking, going out and spend her days glued to her phone seem to be much more important to her and one day, when she comes home and Clarke is /still/ passed out in bed after coming home at 5 am, she finds her phone, just standing there.

Lexa wasn't suspicious of anything. She just wants to understand what these 21 yo state college kids could possibly have to say to her fiancee that make her forget Lexa exists.

Flirting. Heavy flirting.

Nothing indicates it has gone beyond that, but not only does Clarke flirt harder than she ever did with Lexa, there is never any mention of Lexa's existence at all.

She packs a bag and leaves. And it takes Clarke until the next day to even think to call her, asking where she is. No concern, no worry. Just a demand of knowing her whereabouts.

Did Lexa imagine the love between them? Did she make up every sweet gesture Clarke delivered to her up until she quit her job and regressed back to a drunk college girl?

The breakup is direct and somehow seems to take Clarke by surprise. But Lexa doesn't budge. And a month later, the apartment they shared is nearly empty from years spent together.

Or sucks it takes Lexa leaving for Clarke too realize what she lost. It takes Clarke a year to get back on her feet after realizing Lexa is not coming back. She fucked up, she realizes that now. She cuts contact and finishes her classes. She manages a stable, slightly better paying job. And then she moves, away from memories of a life she herself destroyed.

She regrets it only nearly 3 years later. A small girl, no older than 2. Bright eyes and a sweet smile, trying to reach a cereal box on the shelf. Clarke helps her with a smile and the little girl thanks her. And right then, she hears her voice again. Still tired but happy, so unlike the way her voice sounded during their last talk, when Clarke still begged her she would change and Lexa told her it was too late before driving away.

A grocery car filled with kid's snacks and veggies. Diapers and a few kids' books. She seems lighter. The darkness under her eyes is not as pronounced. Her cheeks are fuller and so is she. The last time they cuddle Clarke still remembers how she could feel her hip bone. She said nothing, too hangover to even think of words that didn't sound like she was telling her to gain weight.

She ignores the bump. The wedding ring. The hickey on her neck.

Lexa calls out the little girl's name again. The girl turns to her and smiles, telling her mom about the nice lady who helped her get her cereal.

Clarke stands awkwardly as Lexa's eyes move towards her and a swirl of emotions pass by her face.

Clarke wants to say something. Apologize once more. Beg her to come back to her. How miserable as her life been without Lexa's smile in the morning?

Instead, she remains silent once more. And Lexa nods, as if to thank her for it.

"Have you said thank you to the nice lady?"

The little girl turns, "Thank you!"

Her voice seems trapped in her throat but Clarke manages to speak up as kindly as she can manage, "You're welcome."

"C'mon, mama is waiting for us." Lexa speaks softly to her daughter and Clarke does nothing more than look at them leave, seeming so final this time around, as Lexa spares her one last glance before disappearing behind the shelves.

They never talked about kids. It had been nearly a year by the time they broke up since they talked about the wedding. She wonders if this would have been them now if Clarke hadn't decided having fun was more important than the life she was building. If during those three years she had called and explained herself and asked them to start again.

She didnt tho. And no matter how many what ifs, the last thing Lexa told her before she finally left her life three years ago echoes in her mind.

"Im not yours anymore, Clarke."

[msbhagirathi]

The Madhumati Gupta Buaji Weekly

Mugzeen Adison (Magazine Edition)

Namaste Nandkisore!

Aasaa karat hain ki, nandkisore, aap sab logan theek haai. Hum logan bhi theek haai, nandkisore. Sasi babua bhi ab theek hi haai bas pahile se tanik kamjor hui gaye, chhari ke sahare chalat haain ab. Aoor humka bataye rahe ki oo ki ee halat bhi oo Syaam ki kirpa rahi. Humra mann toh karat raha ki oo sasure ko ek ghumaai ke lagay de ki jindagi bhar phir aisan kucho karat ki jurrat naa karihe, haa.

Chalo choro babua/bitiya. Arre nandkisore ab tanik aapan baat bhi karau, ghar mein sab logan theek haai na? Tohre Amma-Bauji, tohri kauno humre jaisan Buaji hau toh oo sab theek haai na, nandkisore?

Ab kaa batyay tohka, nandkisore. Kal parso ki baat rahi, Sanka Devi aayi gayi phudakti-phudakti Laxminagar. Humka kahine lagi ki Arnav babua ke daftar mein kauno mugzeen-wugzeen ke khaatir humka kucho likhna haai. Hum kahe ki ab nandkisore humre jamane mein toh hum aoor tohre phuphaji itni chitthi likhat rahe ki bas pucho naahi. Toh oo kahi ki theek haai buaji aap chitthi likh ke humko bataay dena hum aa kar le jayenge, ab humri buddhi bhi umar ke kaaran mand pari rahi, oo ka jaaye ke baad, hum bhi bhul gaye nandkisore.

Saara kaam karke aaike baithe the, ki oo ka fone aayi gaya, humka puchi ki chhitthi likhe haai ki naahi, toh hum kahe, nandkisore, kaam mein thora byast hoyi gaye the, abhi likhat rahe.

Ab hum kaa bataay, nandkisore, humri jindagi mein kauno bataane layak khaas toh kucho haai nahi. Athaarah (18) ke the, amma-bauji ne byaah karaaye diya, tohre phuphaji un dino rail maashter kaa kaam karat rahe. Byaah ke baad humka liye eehan Delhi aayi gaye Laxminagar, ab nandkisore tabahu se hum idhar hi rahat haai.

[Buaji aur phuphaji honeymoon ke liye puri dilli ghume the. Phuphaji jab bhi kaam ke wajah se dusri jagah jaate toh wahan se buaji ko chitthi likhte the. ~Buaji ki pyaari SD ;)]

Sabahu theek chalat raha tha. Byaah ke teen saal baad, ek din khabar mili ki kauno train mein aag lag gayi haai, aoor bohut logan ki jaan gayi haai, a phir hum bhi chakkar kaat kaat kar thak gaye, nandkisore, daftar se aspataal aoor aspataal se phir daftar, phir unke daftar se ek din chhitthi aaye ki tohre phuphaji toh milat naahi toh unki penson ki raakam ab humko mila karegi, hum bohut roye oo din.

Bohut hi ache insaan the, nandkisore, hum behad prem karat the, ab kaa karaein, oo din ke baad se hum aapan nandkisore ke charno mein samarpit hoye gaye. Khair jaane do nandkisore. Ee sab toh bohut purani baat rahi.

Aye nandkisore, agar tumlogan ka kauno dikkat paresaani rahe toh humka bataayi dio, hum tohka tanik samajhaai denge, aoor baaki sab humre nandkisore ke haathon chor denge, theek haai naa? Bilkul kauno dikkat rahi toh bitiya humka aapan buaji samajh kar, eehan aaike bataai dena, mann bhi thora halka hoat jayi. Aoor hum toh waisan bhi jyaada kaam-kaaj naa kar sakat haai naa, toh pura din bas baith ke hi gujar jaat haai. Tohka chitthi likhan ke khaatir humra bhi tanik samay beet jaye.

Ab hum thehre bujurg, humse kaun baat karihe? Oo bhi chitthi likhke, nandkisore? Aajkal toh naa jaane kaa oosab bhatsup-discaard bhagwaan jaane aoor kaa-kaa aayi gaye haai, chitthi likhne ka phursat kaun ke paas rahai?

Khair choro. Humka toh aoor kuch soojh hi naahi rahat haai nandkisore, aoor kaa likhe? Chalao phir rakhte haai kuch batana hau toh likhat dena theek haai naa?

Aoor haan. Humka sunne mein aawat haai ki Sanka Devi ki kauno saheli ka aaj janam din raha? Ee baat sach haai ka, nandkisore? Janam din ki bohut bohut subhkamna tohka, nandkisore. Khub kaam karau, mehnat karau, Arnav babua aoor titaliya ke jaisan naam-paisa kamao, aoor tohka pati-parmeswar toh bohut hi bhagyawaan raha ki oo ka tohre jaisan patni milat rahi, nandkisore (byaah kee ho ki naahi, nandkisore?)

Aoor humri taraf se kauno meethaai wagerah khaa lena, tohka ghar ka pata (address) hota toh dukaan se jalebi aoor kucho dusri meethaai bhijwai dete par kauno baat naahi bitiya muskuraayete rehna. Jindagi mein rone ke bohut mauke milenge par muskuraaye ke mauke khud hi dhundne parat haai, nandkisore.

Chalao phir, ab rakhat haai. Garima ke saath mandir jaanat haai nandkisore. Namaste.

P.S. : Lol. I got this idea today like literally today and then thought of getting started but now I am kinda confused about something whether I should continue this one from buaji's POV only or I should write from all the characters' POV's. Let me know. And also ket me know ki yeh kuch samajh mein aaya bhi ki ekdum kachra kar diya hai maine. Lol :') Ok so I should have added this bit in the beginning but nvrmnd *shrugs* So I have considered double 'a' for आ sound, double 'o' for ऊ sound, double 'e' for इ sound and single 'a' is for अ sound, rest if you find any kind of confusion, please feel free to ask for help, considering this is not regular Hindi so :) Ok. Bye. God bless you.

[astralprisms]

New gith who dis?

Saving her for patch 7 since I'm finally going to run Durge. Haven't settled on a name yet but I'm very into this look.

[kaurwreck]

oh, i figured out aya's skill.

[lesmisscraper]

Cosette's accustoming to the convent school life.

Clips from <Il cuore di Cosette>.