#fic: only the beginning

[lucienarcheron]

Tales of the Fox & the Fawn - XV

Season I - A series of short snippets to fill my Elucien heart.

Masterlist

Only the Beginning 

Elain hummed quietly to herself, adjusting the flower crown on her head as she waited for Lucien to come home.  He had noticed something had been off about her lately and while he hadn’t pushed her to share, Elain knew it was bothering him not to know.

Nothing was wrong, of course. Elain was just trying to surprise him and he was terrible at waiting to be surprised. She was also terrible at hiding surprises.

Elain was seated by their little patio table in the garden and she tapped it for Cinnamon to climb up and settle next to the gift beautifully wrapped on the table.

“Now sit still, Cinnamon. This has to be perfect.” Elain mumbled to their cat who only meowed in response as Elain settled a custom-made flower crown on the cat’s head. By now, Cinnamon knew better than to rip it off —Elain had trained her well.

The two waited, Elain closing her eyes, letting the afternoon sun wash over her. Moments later, Lucien’s voice called out.

“Elain?”

“In the garden, love.” she replied and turned to face him when he neared, smiling. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips then paused.

“What’s this?” he asked, his gaze shifting curiously between the wrapped box to Cinnamon and her flower crown.

Suddenly nervous, Elain fiddled with her own. “It’s a surprise. Cinnamon and I put it together for you.” she replied and Lucien chuckled.

“You and Cinnamon, hm?”

“We’re a team.” Elain said, petting the cat slowly. “Open it.”

Lucien met her gaze and she knew he could see how nervous she was. Though she had no reason to be. There was nothing to be nervous about, that much she knew. Still.

His hand came to rest over hers. “You alright? Things have been odd for a few days…is there anything you want to talk about it?” he asked her quietly and she shook her head with a chuckle.

“No. I want you to open your gift. I — you’ll understand when you open it.”

Lucien looked at her for another heartbeat then brought her hand to his lips, kissing it gently. “Alright.”

She smiled at him and gently pushed the box towards him. Lucien opened the lid and then looked at her curiously.

“You’re this nervous to give me a flower crown?” he asked and she rolled her eyes.

“There’s more under it! Put it on then look again!” She urged him and he immediately obeyed, adjusting his own flower crown on his head and then he paused.

Lucien paused and Elain bit her lip, holding her breath.  

It was like time had stopped and Elain’s heart was beating way too fast for it to be alright, her eyes never wavering off her mate, who was still staring inside the box.

“Well?” she finally whispered after a lifetime of silence and Lucien slowly looked up at her.

“This is real?” he asked her in a hoarse whisper and she nodded, beaming.

“Real.”

For inside the box, Elain had placed an additional flower crown. A smaller one. With a card settled in the middle of the crown that said: Roses are red, violets are blue. Inside me, beats two hearts for you.

“We’re having a baby.” Lucien stated and Elain nodded.

“Yes.”

“We’re having a baby.” he repeated, a finger pointing between the two of them, and Elain nodded again with a laugh.

“Yes!”

“We’re having a baby!”  Lucien exclaimed, shooting out of his seat, causing Cinnamon to dart off the patio table with a screech.

“Yes!”  Elain confirmed with a laugh, happy tears lining her eyes and Lucien let out a noise of disbelief before falling to his knees in front of his wife. He leaned in, cupping her face, and kissed her furiously then pulled back, still holding her face.

“You’re pregnant with our baby.” he whispered to her, his face lit with joy and she sniffled with a watery smile, her hands coming over his.

“I found out last week but swore Madja to secrecy.” Elain whispered in response. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“I — I am so happy. I don’t think words could — Elain — a baby — “ he stuttered and she giggled, leaning in to kiss his lips softly.

“I know…I know.” she replied, words failing both of them at the moment.

The two could only gaze at each other, eyes full of love, hope, excitement, and joy all in one.

“I am so in love with you. And thrilled for our future.”

“Good, because there’s more.”

“More?”

“I had a vision a few days ago.” she said slowly and Lucien’s back straightened.

“And?”

“Our dream of a house full of bouncy, beautiful kids?”

“Yes?” he asked breathlessly.

“It’s going to come true.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

“Are they happy?”

“All I saw was laughter and love.” she answered softly. “But I didn’t need a vision to tell me that’s how it’ll be.”

And Lucien couldn’t hold back anymore. He rested his head in his wife’s lap and broke down in tears. Tears of joy, that he was going to be given such a beautiful gift. A chance to have a family. A family that will only know love.

And this was only the beginning.

[disastersareajoy]

Pussy Drunk Thomas Hewitt - Drabble

Thomas Hewitt x FEM!Reader

Tags: established relationship, cunnilingus, forced orgasms, talk of bruises, wet and messy, squirting, dacryphilia, overstimulation

Word count: 1.1k

fucking obsessed with the idea of Thomas getting absolutely, down bad, pussy-drunk as soon as he gets a taste

like his virgin-ass being too afraid of hurting you to fuck you at first and getting on his knees for you. he gets a taste, kind of pulls back and licks his lips and you can see his pupils dilate and his eyes fucking glaze over and he just falls face first into your pussy

sloppy, wet, spit slick, hungry oral from that man. his teeth bump into you in all the right ways sometimes. one moment he's whimpering into you and the next he's grumbling and trying to get his tongue deeper and deeper into you to taste more

and it does not matter to him when you beg for him to slow down and how you can't cum anymore. because you keep dripping on his face and tongue and making wonderful noises and you just taste so fucking good, how could he stop??

his arms wrap around your thighs and he holds onto them hard and firm and keeps you pulled close to his face. you can feel that it's gonna bruise and you're going to cherish those bruises for days

he doesn't even notice how hard he's gripping you because he's trying to get all of his senses filled with you. he tastes, smells and feels nothing but you. the only thing his ears can focus on are your moans and whimpers. his hands massage your thighs periodically and when he opens his eyes it's just to look at your face, thrown back in pleasure. the only thing better is when you're looking down at him with tears in your eyes, still moaning for him

Tommy is completely drunk off your taste. he loves the feeling of your pussy on his tongue and he loves the little whining groan you let out when he sucks on your clit

now, when he keeps going and going and your hand in his hair trying to push him away finally falls to your side, he doesn't even realize what he's doing next. it's all out of instinct when his hands readjust so his arms stay wrapped around your thighs but his thumbs are spreading open your folds. that's when he really loses it

because he can get his tongue even deeper like that. he can bury it inside you and find the spot that makes you drip a little more and that makes you moan all broken and needy. once he finds it he abuses the fuck out of it. keeps licking over it, poking at it with his tongue and savoring every drop of you that spills into his mouth

and then. his holy grail. you grab his hair again and moan louder. you're sobbing and begging him to slow down because it feels different this time. he doesn't listen of course. all he knows is you're about to do that thing again where he can feel your pussy flutter and twitch and your thighs squeeze around him and your moans get all whimpery

he keeps going until your hips lift up into him. he stays attached to your pussy and keeps doing what he's doing, knowing he can't stop. needs to keep going to get you to do that thing

suddenly you gasp and go completely quiet. then you moan so loud it's almost a scream. a sobbing sort of thing that's absolutely gorgeous to him. on top of that your hips start wildly shaking along with your legs and your pleasure starts gushing out of you

Tommy moans into your juices and gets closer if that's even possible at that point. he shakes his head so he rubs over your clit side to side while he keeps his tongue abusing that spot inside you. and fuck does he get drenched. he swallows down as much as he can of you and whimpers into it. anything he can't get, drips down his face and drenches his shirt and lap

once you come down you realize he's still going and you can't handle it anymore. you start crying more and weakly kicking your legs out which finally makes Tommy look up. he sees your devastated face and while he thinks the sweat mixed with tears and drool, as well as the tortured pleasure in your eyes is a heavenly sight, he listens to your weak pleas

he finally pulls away and you sigh in relief. Tommy stays away from your pussy (as much as he hates it) and spends his time licking your thighs clean. just a minute away from your pussy makes him whimper and look up at you pleadingly. your legs are still shaking and you shake your head at him

so Tommy whines and starts biting your thighs instead, getting closer and closer to your pussy until he's mouthing right next to it. you're shaking and sweating and still losing a coupe tears when he licks flat over your clit once. then your back arches and you gasp, trying not to make too loud a noise

you know if you moan he's gonna start again and you think he might actually kill you that time. he softly licks over your clit again, wraps his lips around it and you slap a hand over your mouth. but Tommy sees your lack of noise as a sign to keep going and starts sucking on your clit. when his teeth graze over it your hand whips away from your mouth to his hair and you yell out a moan that ends with a broken whine

immediately you know you're in for it. Tommy moans happily and grabs your thighs hard once more. he dives into you again and gets back to his sloppy, needy and enthusiastic pace without hesitation. all you can do is moan, whimper and whine as Tommy makes you see stars over and over again

he's obsessed with making you squirt on his face and listening to your whimpers as he tastes you. he loves the feeling of your heartbeat in your clit, pounding against his tongue

sometimes you can't get him off of your pussy until he's had at least a couple hours of his way with you. he's obsessed with your pussy and a single taste makes him entirely lose his mind. he'd do anything to fall to his knees in front of you

he would spend forever between your thighs if it was up to him

your pussy is his paradise and his salvation. every gush of your juices is a baptism of wonder. you are his goddess and he worships you at every turn

[lucradiss]

“Oh the age gap was too big I aged one of them up/down so they’re the same age”

YOU HAVE SHOWN YOUR WEAKNESS! YOU ROLL ON YOUR SPINELESS BACK AND EXPOSE YOUR COWARD BELLY IN THE FACE OF ADVERSITY! I DONT HAVE A SHIP WITH AN AGE GAP OF LESS THAN A DECADE! GIVE THESE MIDDLE AGED MEN A TWINK AND SOME VIAGRA AND THEYRE READY TO GO!

[drenched-in-sunlight]

saying this as respectfully as possible but. Do not put fandom content creators on a pedestal. We are also just fans contributing to a community just as you are. We have boundary on our own work and that’s it. What I say is not and should not be considered sth the whole fandom should listen to. I’m just a normal ass person ranting about things on my blog. If it does not have a fandom tag for others to engage in, do not make it out to be me trying to start fights or addressing the whole community. Because it’s not.

I’ve said it before and I will say it again, my art, my lore talk, is biased. I’ve never tried to hide that I view Marika a certain way and will always develop my theory following that base assumption.

Aside from translation stuffs and pointing out in-game items, everything else I say you can look at it, agree or disagree, and move on to form your own opinions. Just because I draw stuffs doesn’t mean you get to saddle me with responsibilities about managing fandom expectations. What the hell? I’m a fan artist, I’m the last person who you should look at for “leaderism” (?) WHAT?

I can and will be a hater in my own space, like I know sometimes other artists will just post their stuffs and not engage too heavily with fandom, and for a while I did try to do that here (because I’m already a dramatic ass on twitter), that’s just not me though.

You will get art and you will get my opinions as well.

[itshype]

As a fandom Vet please, please back up your fanfiction. I see so many fics posted exclusively to tumblr and it scares me.

I've seen so many tumblr purges, I've seen staff delete blogs irreparably by accident, I've seen cyberbullying involving reporting a blog so many times it's taken down and all the posts are lost.

All these new baby fandom accounts who are writing tens of thousands of words of fic (in a readmore so not even reblogs work to save it if your blog is lost) and not backing it up are causing me anxiety. Please, I'm so worried for you all.

[duskrosecreatesstuff]

Wooden You Like to Know?

Written originally as part of a frenzy of ideas bounced around with friends over the potential for the inappropriate use of Sussur tree pieces and by-products, and submitted for #HalsinTavWeek Day 6 - Aphrodisiacs

Summary: Halsin acquires a piece of Sussur wood, and uses it to create a special toy for his lover.

Read on AO3 here

Pairing: Halsin / F!Reader

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: Explicit smut, Aphrodisiac use, Sex toys, PiV sex, very slight bondage (if you squint), kinda Soft Dom Halsin (again, if you squint).

“Is that Sussur bark in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” you jokingly said, as he strode across the camp towards you, a conspicuous lump in the front of his trousers.

“Well, actually …” his face split in a wide grin as he pulled his hand from his pocket and withdrew a chunk of faintly glowing wood.

“Awww, darn.” you laughed, returning the grin.

Your feelings were mixed.  A touch of disappointment, a hint of smugness that you’d been right, and a whole lot of interest in what he actually planned to do with that piece of wood.  

“Besides, my heart.  I am always happy to see you.”  He leaned down to kiss the top of your head, before taking a seat on the log next to you.  He thoughtfully turned the piece over in his hands.

“So, why the interest in a piece of bark?  What do you intend to do with that?”

He continued to rotate the piece around, studying it.  “It isn’t bark, it’s a piece from the end of a branch.  And I’m curious.  I’ve never tried my hand at working with this type of wood before.  So I’m interested to see what my tools can do.”

So he intended to whittle something from it.  You were reluctant to touch the magical timber, although you were also curious about it.  Standing in the aura of the tree had drained your magic completely, surely it had to be affecting him too.

“How are you able to hold it?  Doesn’t it feel wrong?  And what about your magic?”

“It’s only a piece, so it doesn’t drain my magic.  Perhaps it can’t anymore, being separate from the living tree.  And it may be because I draw on Nature for my magic, not the Weave, as you do.  As for how I can hold it, well …”  He considered for a moment.  “It tingles a little, for sure.  Like a prickle on my skin. The sensation is  … interesting.”   There was something about the way he put emphasis on the word ‘interesting’, the way he caught your eye as he said it, that sent a pleasurable shiver down your spine.

*****

Days passed and you didn’t even think about the Sussur piece until one evening, as you were eating dinner.  He sat next to you, leaned in to kiss your cheek, and then whispered softly in your ear.

“I have a gift for you.”

“Oh? What is it?”

“A surprise.  For later.” You could feel his lips curl as he smiled against your neck. “But I ‘Suss-pect’ you might guess what it could be.”

Your eyes went wide.  Was that … did he just make a pun?  And was he referring to that piece of Sussur wood?  He’d made that into a gift for you?  

Your interest was thoroughly piqued and you tried to hurry him along by eating quickly, but he ignored your efforts.  You were positively vibrating with curiosity by the time he got up to head to his tent.  The speed with which you followed him was practically indecent.

He sat on his bedroll as you closed the flap behind you, his shirt already discarded for the night.  In one hand, he held an object wrapped in a piece of silken fabric, with the other, he patted the spot next to him, in an invitation to sit down.  You did so, looking from his face, to his lap and back again.  He smiled at you.

He offered the wrapped bundle to you, and you took it in both hands, your eyes getting big with realisation as you felt the vaguely cylindrical shape beneath the fabric.  He hadn’t …

You laid the item in your lap, and peeled back the fabric, to reveal the thing inside. Your mouth fell open.  He had.  In your lap you cradled a perfectly carved replica of his own erect self.  No wonder it had taken days, the detail was exceptional, and he had clearly taken the time to polish the surface to a fine finish.  A very necessary step, given the intended use.  Somehow, the piece of wood still managed to maintain its unearthly silver-blue glow.

You stroked your fingers along it, feeling how smooth the finish on the wood was. But more importantly feeling how the magical timber felt against your skin. How had he described it all those days ago?  LIke a tingle?  A prickle, that was it.  And that was on your fingers.  How would it feel when it was pressed against … other parts of you.  You didn’t realise he was staring at you, taking in every detail of your reaction, until he spoke.

“Is it to your liking?”

“It’s beautiful.” You grinned, leaning over to give him a brief kiss.  “Thank you.”

You moved to wrap it back up.  He placed a hand over yours, pausing you.

“Don’t you want to try it out?”

“Here? Now?” Your eyes were wide, and you suddenly felt rather shy.   “You want me to …?”

“I’d like us to.  To enjoy it. Together.”

You felt the heat rising to your cheeks.  You had plenty experience with toys, but you’d always kept that private.  You’d never used one with him before.  Not with anyone.  You hesitated.

“It’s … I … “ you struggled to find the right words.  You exhaled, hard, steeling yourself.  “Sharing a toy … it’s a bit new to me.  I’ve never-”

“Then we start slow,” He reached for the toy and placed it carefully to one side, “and see where things lead us.”

He reached for you, pulling you into his lap, your thighs spreading to straddle his.  He leaned in to kiss you softly, hands caressing up your back, feeling the tension in your shoulders.  He rubbed gently, as your own hands explored over his broad, warm chest.  You relaxed into him and his hands dipped to the hem of your shirt, tugging it up.  He pulled away from your lips to lift the shirt over your head, but quickly met with you again as he tossed it to the side.

His hands drifted to cup your breasts, as his tongue licked at your lips, requesting entry.  You parted them for him, your tongues meeting, as you arched your back to press your chest into his hands.  He stroked his fingers over your nipples, felt them stiffen beneath his practised touch.  When he heard you moan softly against his mouth, he pinched them gently, rolling them between his fingertips.  Your breathing quickened, and you moved your hips to grind against his, feeling the real version of him stirring beneath you.

He leaned forward into you, a gentle pressure to lay back, his hands sliding down your sides, to slide your hips off him.  He pulled away from the kiss as he lowered you onto the soft furs of his bed, reaching for the waistband of your legwear, tugging it and your underwear down your thighs, as you wriggled your legs to help him get them completely off you.

He stared down, drinking in the view of you bared completely to him, and he glanced to the side at the toy, glowing gently like a phallic nightlight.  You watched him, lips parted slightly.

“May I try something?”

“Such as?” You felt a little nervous, but you trusted him.  Completely.

“I want you to close your eyes, and let me touch you with it. I want you to describe to me how it feels. And please, I need you to tell me if it gets to be too much.”

You took a deep breath, and nodded.  “Yes.”

You exhaled that breath as you closed your eyes, forcing yourself to relax back into the furs.  You became acutely aware of the cool air on your skin, the warmth emanating from him between your knees, the rustle as he moved.  You gasped as you felt something cool and smooth touch your breastbone, your eyes fluttering open at the tingling sensation against your skin.

“Now, now.” You heard his voice, deep and soft.  “No cheating.”

“It surprised me.”

“I could always blindfold you, if that would be easier.”

You gave it a thought, and agreed.  He quickly took the soft fabric that had wrapped the toy, and folded into a strip.  You sat up so he could wrap it over your eyes, and tied it carefully behind your head.  When he was sure you could no longer see him, he took the opportunity to steal another kiss, before pressing his hands to your shoulders, signalling for you to lay back again.

He didn’t keep you waiting long as he brought the toy to touch your chest in the same spot as before, and slowly dragged it down to your navel.  You shivered at the sensation.

“How does it feel?” he asked curiously.

“It’s like you said, it tingles.  And it’s not fading very quickly.”

You felt him repeat the motion with a warm fingertip.  You shivered again.

“And that?”

“It’s … more intense.  It's more sensitive there now.”

You felt him drawing a few more stripes over your body, his fingers trailing in the wake of sensitised skin, and you raised your hand, fingers searching, wanting, needing to touch something, preferably his warm skin.  You felt his hand encircle your wrist, and press it back down at your side.

“Behave.  Or I might just have to use the vines on you again.”

Usually, you loved that playful threat.  Another time, you would have enjoyed being just defiant enough to push him to use it.  But tonight, you were already feeling close to overwhelmed, so instead, you gripped handfuls of the furs beneath you.

He watched as you clasped the fur, and, satisfied with your token of submission, he released your wrist.  He drifted his fingertips over your ribs, moving his hand to cup your breast, and a moment later, you felt the touch of the Sussur magic brushing against your nipple, making you gasp.  The prickling sensation lingered as he moved the toy to your other nipple, and dipped his head to take your sensitised little bud between his lips.  You gasped and arched your back as he suckled gently, the sensation so much more intense than usual.

He used his knee to press your thighs a little wider as he trailed the toy lazily down over your stomach, across your mound, and down lower, to dip the tip in your dripping slick, then slid it back up along your slit to the apex. He positioned the toy against your clit, and then let it rest against your thigh, taking that moment to shed the rest of his own clothing.  You felt your clit swelling in response to the touch, a throbbing ache between your thighs.  You wiggled your hips, tilting them slightly, trying to rub against the toy, desperate for some friction.

He noticed what you were doing, and smirked, as he tossed his clothing aside.

“It seems that is to your liking.”  You could only huff in response.  He removed the toy from its position, and you whined at the loss of contact.  You were rewarded as he dipped his head to lap gently at your aching bud.

“Please.” you moaned, desperately pressing your hips up to him.

“Not yet, my heart.  I want to see how you look with this inside you.  Do you think you can take it?.”

“Yes,” you gasped. “I … I want to try.”

He slid the toy along your slit, bathing it in your slick, listening to your breath stutter as the magical wood touched your sensitive skin.  He lined it up carefully with your entrance.

“My love.  You will tell me to stop if this is too much, or you feel any discomfort?”

“I will. Yes.” you promised.

“Good.”  He smiled down at you, and slowly began to press the thick toy inside you.  You gasped, the muscles in your thighs twitching at the sensation.  You breathed hard, working to relax around the toy.  He paused, giving you a moment to adjust to the feel of it, listening to your breathing, watching for any signs of discomfort from you.

“More?”

“Please.” You panted. “Gods, please, yes”

He pulled the toy back, and started thrusting it slowly, working it deeper and deeper with each push, watching the way your back arched up to meet his movements, the quiver in your thighs.  

“Oh my heart.  You’re taking it so well.  Just a little more.”

You whimpered at the praise, all sensation focused on the throbbing in your core, as he rocked the toy deeper into you.  The muscles in your thighs trembled, and you realised he had stopped moving the toy. He looked down at you, admiring the way you were stretched wide around it, your slick skin shining in the soft glow of the wood.  With one hand holding it gently in place, he leaned down again to put his lips to your clit, licking and sucking on it.

Between the shiver of magic running through your stuffed and full core, and the movement of his lips and tongue, you couldn’t help but lose control, crying out his name as your hips bucked up to meet his mouth, your sensitive walls clenching against the unyielding hardness of the toy.

You couldn’t see the grin on his face, you could only let out a stuttering gasp as you felt the toy being carefully slid out of you, followed by the soft rumble of his voice.

“Are you still alright, my love?”

“Yes.” Your voice was the barest of whispers, between panting breaths.  You felt the warmth of his body against yours, as he leant over you to tug on the silken fabric covering your eyes and toss it aside.  You blinked up at him, eyes dark, and he dipped down to kiss you, the taste of your own juices on his lips.  You raised your hands to thread your fingers through his hair, and this time, he didn’t correct your little act of defiance.

He pulled away from the kiss as he shifted his hips and you felt pressure against your dripping entrance again, every bit as rigid as the toy had been, only warmer.  Your gaze met his as you lifted your thighs to wrap them around his waist, and he reached a hand down to guide himself into you.  Thanks to the toy, you were more than ready to take him and with one strong thrust, he sank deep inside you, as you gasped out his name at the welcome intrusion, the prickle of the Sussur magic like an itch that you desperately wanted scratched.  He settled into a steady rhythm, massaging against your tingling walls, listening to the sounds of you whimpering beneath him, as your pleasure built again.  He moved to kiss his way down your neck, to your chest, the places he’d touched with the wood still more responsive.  You arched your back up to him as he took a nipple in his mouth, your hands gripping his shoulders, your thighs gripping his sides.  He felt your wet heat quivering around him.

“I want to feel you shatter over me, my love.”  he whispered breathlessly.  He deftly slipped a hand between your bodies, positioning his thumb to rub tight circles on your clit.  You moaned as he increased his pace, pounding into you, eyes closed in pleasure as he brought you to that edge, and tipped you over, your walls clenching hard around him.

His lips crashed against yours again, muffling the way you were about to scream his name; his tent might have been farthest away from the campfire, but you still didn’t need everyone else hearing you.  A few last deep thrusts and you felt him tense and pulse within you, following you in ecstasy.

He lay there on top of you for a few moments, as your hearts both slowed and your breathing became less ragged.  He wrapped you in his arms to roll you both to your sides, and you felt him slip out of you as he softened, a rush of warm liquid over your thighs.

“I wouldn’t want to crush you, my heart.”

“Would be one hell of a way to go.” you grinned, tilting your chin to kiss him gently.

He reached to the side for a cloth and some water, and carefully wiped the mess of your combined fluids gently off the both of you, also taking a moment to clean the carved wooden toy.  Once he was satisfied, he laid himself alongside you, and pulled a blanket up to cover you both.  Warm, strong arms wrapped around you to pull you in close, and you closed your eyes as he nuzzled against your neck.

“Sweet dreams, my heart.” he murmured.

[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.

[lesbianralzarek]

i understand that implementing this would be a fuckton of work for larian for something the vast majority of players would never experience. however. in a perfect world. playing as wyll would give you ways to turn down sex without locking yourself out of romances

listen. i understand why sex is important for astarions and lae'zels romances, and that the karlach exception is purely out of "she literally cannot touch anyone at first" necessity, but it kinda sucks when the game forces you to choose between roleplaying wyll or romancing who you want. idk where the compromise would lie in-game

[novelconcepts]

So ready to go absolutely feral for all the women of Usher.

Hair!

Vibes!

GAYS!

Look at how hot they all are, I can’t wait to be emotionally devastated beyond repair AGAIN.

[1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam]

Watching Eddie Begins with Buddie-colored glasses on is already crazy enough, but I just caught something that I never really thought about before. Athena tells Bobby that the news crews showing up before she leaves for another call might turn the call into a nationwide story. And then Buck absolutely LOSES it when 30 feet of wet earth falls on top of Eddie. So yeah, maybe Bobby pulls Buck away to stop him from futilely digging for Eddie with his hands, but maybe he also does it because he doesn’t want his kid’s grief and fear and love for Eddie being broadcast across the country. Especially not when Bobby thinks that Eddie’s probably already dead. And not only does Bobby pull Buck away from the well, he pulls back right into his lap. This is the closest we get to Bobby cradling Buck in his arms until the lightning strike, and it’s because he doesn’t want Buck to be in pain, and he most certainly does NOT want the tragedy of Eddie’s death to be made even worse by Buck’s pain over it being broadcast to the entire country.

[justaz]

post magic reveal, post magic ban lifted, arthur gets to see merlin in all his glory and somehow falls deeper in love with him than he ever thought possible. merlin who is free and accepted and loved and ecstatic by it all, but there's that thought lingering in the back of his mind that only half of their destiny has been fulfilled. magic has returned to camelot but albion is still fractured in many different kingdoms, many of which are still holding onto the hate that uther spread which is seeping into the very fabric of the earth itself. druids and magic users and even magic creatures are still persecuted all across the realm and yeah camelot opened her arms to them but not everyone trusts it (justifiably).

arthur who is choking on the sheer amount of love he has for merlin and promising himself that he'll tell merlin, he'll confess, even if he feelings aren't reciprocated. merlin will know. merlin who has been chewing on an idea for some time now and is planning on bringing it up to arthur. its night as merlin is dressing arthur for bed and they're both quiet and tense. they break at the same time and end up speaking over one another. arthur allows merlin to go first since his nerves are eating away at him. then merlin speaks of leaving.

arthur feels his nerves rot and decay and fall into a bottomless pit. merlin is rambling about how every magical being in albion is still being targeting by various kingdoms and as the prophesied emrys, magic incarnate, druid king, should he not be doing more to help? he doesn't want to leave arthur's side, but he does want to help his people. he's seen only a fraction of the atrocities committed against them and he wishes to protect them, give them somewhere completely safe, a kingdom of magic so to speak. he promises that he'll only be gone for as long as it takes to establish a kingdom (a year? two? three?) but he promises to write and visit often...as long as arthur gives him permission and allows him to leave his service for the time being.

arthur of course agrees, half unhappy about it but completely understanding. surely, out of everyone, he is the one who can understand the weight of responsibility weighing on merlin's shoulders. he mentions that merlin will need someone with experience wearing the crown to guide him. plus, balance. merlin was always there for arthur, guiding him on how to be a better man, a great king, someone worthy of the praise he constantly spewed. it's only right that arthur gets to return that by helping merlin establish a safe haven and home for his people. and politically, camelot being the first kingdom to recognize merlin's and establish some trade agreement or treaty with them will strengthen merlin's kingdom's status and send a message that camelot stands with magic.

merlin smiles wide and asks what arthur was going to say. the king hesitates before biting his tongue and requesting that merlin bring up the honey cakes that had been prepared earlier that night. two of them. since merlin was no longer in his service, he didn't have to stand by and watch arthur eat - not that he ever did, the idiot loved to steal his food. shamelessly!! he never even tried to hide it. they both sat at the table in his chambers until late in the night, nibbling away at the sweets, chasing it down with wine, and chatting away.

arthur wasn't able to confess, but it did not change his feelings. if anything, merlin's heart and the decision he made only added fuel to the raging inferno of love and devotion within arthur. he knows that merlin will keep in contact and will return to his side one day. he gets through the tough days/nights by rereading merlin's letters and imagining seeing him again in royal garb and donning a crown.

[kakooshi]

I feel like enough time has passed...

[legendofzeldasilentprincess]

after knowing the whole story of Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom, I still can't believe Nintendo really went for the Princess and the Knight trope

[its-all-papaya]

please do a fic with lestappen+54 after seeing max and daniel leave the paddock together and then take a helicopter

This took a month+ but good news! It’s literally 7k.

have you ever wondered what would happen if anybody, nowhere and the devil in me had a baby? and it was lestappen? with smut? that’s what this is in my brain. enjoy, or something. and happy 'he wins in monza' to charles leclerc and all of you too ofc.

send me a ship and a number and i will write a kiss

54. out of envy or jealousy | lestappen | 6.9k

Charles is crying again. Over an hour out from the chequered flag by his measure, Max’s palms are on both of his cheeks, smudging tears out from under his eyelashes as he kisses Charles over and over. They’re still in their race suits, and the navy blue under Charles’ fingers makes the whole thing sweeter, for once.

“I love you,” Charles says, when he can get a word in, “I love this day, I love Monaco.”

“It’s good,” Max says, and his eyes look nearly as shiny as Charles imagines his own must, “we love you back, of course.”

Later, after they’re both sweaty and fucked-out and a tad drunk, still, he’ll ask with a bit of cheek if this isn’t Max’s favorite Monaco Grand Prix to date. Max will look up at him, chin propped just below Charles’ navel, and say “Monaco has always been quite good to the people I love.” Victory is fresh in his veins and Max has won Monaco twice, so Charles won’t think anything of it. He’ll drag Max up until they’re pressed together, sticky as they are, and he’ll fall asleep thinking of his own body breaking the surface of the water in Monaco, and it will never occur to him to consider anybody else’s.

Read the rest on ao3!

[aureli-us]

i can't tell if i want to be master chief or be with him. is halo about to become a new hyperfixation? my guess is NO but i could be open..........

[best-enemies]

The Deca itself amazes me, but its fandom is on a whole other level. We have one canon source material (and a few other mentions scattered throughout the Whoniverse), but the fans have managed to tinker with it so much that fanon is actually more popular than canon and more wildly accepted. And I love y'all for it