☆ 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.
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#86
Being a hero is stressful. That much is common knowledge. How a hero goes about unwinding from said stress is a mystery no one has yet figured out.
The hero settles in one of the little chairs in the circle. The man next to her gives her a light nudge. “Let’s see what you made this week, then.”
The hero reaches into her bag to show off her latest stress relief—a giant blanket, knitted in the downtime between jobs, sporting a rainbow of colours in bright streaks across its face. Everyone oohs and ahhs appropriately before the rest of the circle gets to showing off their own creations.
It’s been nice to have a place that isn’t entirely consumed by work, the hero thinks as she nods approvingly at someone’s mug cosy. No worrying about tomorrow, no wondering where the villains might be.
Her gaze flits to the next person in line to show something off, and her heart momentarily stops as she meets her eye. At least she doesn’t have to worry about the latter of her thoughts right now.
What the hell is the villain doing at the hero’s weekly knitting club?
“Go on,” the woman next to the villain prompts. The villain huffs and makes a show of it, but she pulls out a cardigan with a ghost of a pleased smirk.
The hero only realised why she’s so self-satisfied when she catches herself gaping in awe. The villain’s little cardigan is elaborate in pattern, swooping waves lining its shoulders. The yarns meld together in a perfect cacophony of colour. It’s amazing, more amazing than anything the hero could do.
The villain soaks in the praise with a humble nod before setting her gaze on the hero. It probably looks hopeful to anyone else, but the hero can see the glitter of arrogance in her eye. Go on, the villain’s practically saying, tell me how great I am.
“It’s nice,” the hero says through gritted teeth, and the villain’s smile turns humoured.
The hero can’t leave fast enough. Everyone else is packing their projects away. The hero’s blanket gets folded thankfully easily and she’s out the door before anyone can stop her.
Fine. A new project. Something to advance her skills and show the villain that she’s not the hot shit she thinks she is.
It takes all week. The hero holds her jumper up to show the group. The villain raises her eyebrows from across the circle.
“Inspired by another knitter here,” the hero says with what could almost be sarcasm, and the villain snorts a poorly contained laugh.
The villain shows off her creation. A pair of mittens, the patterns lacy and the colours bright. The hero scowls. Pissed doesn’t describe the feeling.
Next week. A layered scarf from the hero. The villain wins everyone’s affections with a tiny knitted elephant. “For my niece’s birthday,” the villain says innocently. “She loves them.”
Leaving is becoming more of a race with each passing week. “Keep trying,” the villain comments brightly before the hero can escape. “You’ve plenty of room to improve.”
The hero considers strangling the villain with her scarf.
The hero settles at her computer that evening with a scowl and a cup of hot chocolate, mentally prepared to prowl the internet for several hours for ideas on how to one-up the villain. It’s madness. She’s meant to be out there kicking the villain’s ass, and here she is trying to out-knit her.
It’s been three weeks, and she’s only just realising that her stress-relieving hobby is suddenly a lot more stress-inducing.
“Fuck,” she hisses outloud, and she momentarily considers the idea of knitting the word into a coaster for the villain too.
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Okay but why haven't we had a time travel/fix it fic where after some shenanigans everyone decides to take down shinra, they split up to take out the important figures, sephiroth obviously takes hojo for any and all of a dozen good reasons.
And then hojo pulls a winter soldier sleeper code on him.
And then everyone is suddenly dealing with a brainwashed sephiroth.
-
Hojo has to have some way to control sephiroth as he grew into his monstrous strength and power, yes? And learned helplessness isn't enough of a reassurance your prized military leader powerhouse isn't going to wake up one day and realise just how easily he could paint the labs walls red with chunks of you. And because hojo is obsessed with total power and control, dealing with a murder machine with huge mental issues, it'd only be fitting he create his own emergency shutdown.
In the most needlessly traumatic and mentally violating way, of course. Would sephiroth even know, if he couldn't remember? Would he have long stretches of emptiness in his memories that never get explained to him, or would he wake up where he'd blacked out, just another day in the labs?
Imagine, his allies watching on the cameras, as sephiroth stalks into the labs, a predator sighting its prey, exchanging a few cold words with hojo, raising masamune... And then hojos mouth opening, sephiroth going stiff like an animatronic, rearranging himself on the floor where he stood, face hidden behind his hair. Hojo leaves the room and he doesn't move, doesn't respond to any comms or passing scientists accidentally rolling a cart over his coat and hair.
Hojo ordering sephiroth to reveal their plans, their allies, their resources. Sephiroth doing it. Hojo deciding to punish sephiroth for the rebellion with lab procedures, or hojo ordering him to hunt down his co conspirators and end the takeover. Sephiroth doing so, heavy in his steps, crashing through walls and doors, heedless now of morals or civilians, silent, unresponsive. So completely unlike the jenova malice they'd been prepared to fight, that sephiroth had been bracing against. No arrogance, no mocking, no dramatic battlefield or hungry glowing eyes.
The puppeteer becomes the puppet, and with it, every trace of holding back. The perfect soldier.
I imagine the first trigger word would be lucrecia.
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Yeah I'm sharing them now because if I decide to wait to pass them digitally I will ✨never do it✨
Spiderverse x One Piece AU!
A little something that started as an exercise in character design and then I got a little bit into it lmao
I did design the rest of the East Blue Crew but uh... they were kinda ugly/boring, I put more effort into these two because they're the 💕favs💕
Info, kinda. Honestly I don't have a lot thought out its mostly random ideas that mushed together sort of resemble a well put together au, just like everything I do <3
Nami:
- Spider-Woman of her universe, while her design isn't exactly original I really liked using her orange and blue colors. She has the spider logo on her back because she hates spiders and hates looking at them lmao
- In her universe, her best friend Usopp died when she failed to save him (kinda her "Gwen Stacy" but he was just a friend)
- Has electricity powers, her spidey senses are also really in tune with the climate for some reason
- She has a staff (not pictured) she fights with, and also uses the environment to her favor, not the biggest fan of fighting hand to hand because (compared to other Spider-people) shes not as physically strong
- Has a few enemies and nemesis that she fights, Arlong being the most important/strong one
- She's actually quite happy to know other Spider-people, tho she was kinda shocked when she saw Usopp... It was awkard for both of them...
Usopp:
- The first Spider-man in his world, there are some things of his design I would change (mainly the sweatband, I would change the colors), but I'm actually quite happy with his design. Where does his nose go with the mask on? The same place Hobbie's hair goes, idk..
- In his universe, his best friend Nami died, Usopp failing to protect her
- Uncanny precision with his webfluids, also figths using the environment
- Unfortunately isn't a well received Spider-man 😔, gets complaints about destruction of property or how he's "pretty coward for a superhero"
- Really would rather focus on saving civilians from natural disasters, as he's also not as physically strong (compared to other Spider-people), but it seems every weirdo on the block decided they really need to beat this teenager up, so he also has some enemies...
- Super excited about meeting other Spider-people and finally being able to share life experiences with them, and then met Nami, or Spider-Woman Nami and it was awkard and uncomfortable (but they became besties, bittersweet moment)
Extra stuff from the rest of the East Blue Crew:
- Luffy's spiderman name is Spider-King and the rest of the Spidermans where like "I can't decide if that's the best or the worst name I've ever heard...". Well Usopp thinks it's kinda cool, and wishes he had chosen a cooler name for himself, might be too late for a new signature 🤔, Nami and Sanji think it's stupid, Zoro is undecided
- Sanji does not have a spider logo, even tho his name is Spider-man because he hates spiders
- Zoro is the second Spider-man from his universe, the first one being Kuina, she died and he took her place
- Sanji has fire inmunity
- Zoro carries like 5 extra pockets of web fluids cause he takes "longer routes" (he gets lost a lot)
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I appreciate that at least they stayed consistent with the Sword of the Creator being Crest of Flames-exclusive and, as such, Byleth can no longer use it post-CF and is shown using a normal sword instead in their solo and S-Supported Jeritza ending pictures; makes it all the more baffling that they're still alive despite their heart being destroyed and that the Sothis S-Support exists in that route, but i'll give them credit where it's due for keeping the SOTC's lore consistent.
Post Tru Piss, there's no Crest Stone left for the SoC!
So I'd say it's not that it's CoF exclusice, but rather something like without a crest stone, a relic, even the SoC, doesn't "work" anymore.
Adding insult to the injury though, Post!Tru Piss Billy uses Rhea's sword, aka, a Holy Weapon that could be used by everyone (human and nabatean!) and even heal non-crested people : Billy uses at the end of the "we will make a world for humans!" route a sword that conveyed coexistence between humans and nabateans...
Sothis' S-support in this route really felt odd, because she acknowledges Rhea at least, but has no words for her passing when Rhea died crying for her.
Some people tried to theorise that this Sothis isn't the one Rhea remembers so she wouldn't have feelings about her... but idk, it still feels dead wrong, especially since Sothis remembered feelings of joy and sadness in Zanado, and ultimately remembers how Rhea is a her kid thanks to the lullaby (and in SS when she "talks" to her).
If Sothis was a better written character and not accidently written to be the most toxic parent in the FE series, I'd maybe write something about her feeling so bad that, again, she was used to slaughter one of her own children (Nemesis first in Zanado, and now Billy in Tailtean) but as canon!Sothis is, I'm not really motivated to do something like this.
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