☆ 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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We always see the Yotsurugi siblings wear formal attires – Kongo's funerals shows that more than the other scenes since, well, it's a funeral
Except Hibaru – for reasons we know – they're all well-dressed, Shikaba aside that is. Even Kuran and Taira, whom we see later mostly dress comfortably, have their tie up and their suit properly on.
Shikaba? Nope. He doesn't have a tie, his jacket is not on, he's not sitting right, he's probably wearing his sandals for all we know. They all made an effort but him.
(+he's the only one sitting during these introductions. And the only one not having his back straight. He's just enjoying the breeze)
But the eldest they are, the more they dress properly at all time. The youngest seem less enclined to (that being said, Kou and Terasu do keep wearing buttoned-up shirts, Kou even keeps his tie on, even as a kid)(– and Kuran wears a proper suit both when meeting with his siblings and when attending Kongo's funerals!!)(– that being said, he's still not present on the 'diamond bond' panel)
But as I pointed out some time ago, Hibaru and Terasu make themselves presentable before going to see Kongo. Despite him being in critical condition and about to say his last words - they take the time to properly button up their shirt and jacket.
There is a way to behave around Kongo. You have to be proper. Perhaps, Hibaru and Terasu didn't want to appear 'wrong' when visiting their father on his deathbed, but then again, if they're so worried and want to talk to him as quick as possible (when they're already late) why take the time to be proper before opening the door?
All the other siblings we see in the hospital are in the same position – that being said, for this theory of Shikaba not caring, or being allowed not to care, about his clothes and behavior, we would need to see how he was near Kongo when he was alive.
So far, the only other scene we see them with Kongo is during Terasu's welcome to the family. Once again, they're wearing suits, the atmosphere is cold if not impersonal. Terasu wearing a hoodie and sweatpants plus snickers isolates him even more (as if the white chairs among the black ones didn't). Interesting how he was allowed to wear that at his biological father's funeral but wore a formal suit to Kongo's (albeit that's probably because he was so young. But then again. Was it only that.)
Knowing Kou is here and is already wearing his clothes with '11' on it (one thick line=10, one thin line=1; both=11), Taira and Shikaba must have been already adopted despite us not seeing them (and by such, we can't tell if Taira is wearing formal clothes or not and if Shikaba still don't care)
As for the family picture; only Hibaru and Shikaba stand out clothes-wise. Hibaru because his top is open, and Shikaba because he has an additional jacket. (There's also Reri bc she isn't wearing the gi properly but I'm not sure what that's about yet)
The whole point of this post was to point out that Shikaba (beside Hibaru – perhaps(see hospital scene)) is the only one allowed to wear casual clothes and act less stiffly than his siblings around Kongo (or at his funerals). Or not caring to follow the rest acting so formal.
+
Same when it's just them — they're all nicely dressed and then there's Shikaba not caring much (looking at the 'diamond bond' panel, Taira is probably wearing his shirt not buttoned all the way up here too, and his jacket must be open as well)
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mizutaigen is literally like. the first "toxic" m/f ship i've ever cared for. cuz like usually my taste in m/f ships is basically "unhinged baddie" x "badass wifeguy" *
* (see:yen/geralt. trevor/sypha. adolin/shallan. kataang but katara is sane and they're literally so wholesome like theyre traumatised kids in love who are each other's emblem of hope in a war-torn world! so basically they don't count. anyway. i'm rambling.)
and to that end my friend called mizutaigen yaoi-adjacent and im like. yeah you're right actually cuz like hell yeah non-binary mizu and bisexual taigen rights and all the gender fuckery in the show in general
but also like.
theres just SOMETHING else about mizutaigen that just GETS me. like there's a special secret sauce like the pheromones in that one sephora lotion attracting spiders and i am the silly spider!!! there's just something about it!!! it's not even the enemies to lovers trope cuz i personally am not even usually into that (obv it's fine if you are. but yk.)
so as i keep rotating these thoughts around i thiiink it's the fact that, yknow, theyre so similar. like i honestly truly think they could be besties in another universe: a kinder universe where taigen was not taught to hate. a universe where mizu was not born a girl in a deeply misogynistic society or half-white in a xenophobic homogeneous society.
yeah now that i think about it that really just might be THE secret sauce!!! like the fact that they COULD be perfect and happy together, if only things were different, if only they werent themselves.
smth v bittersweet about that's just driving me insane and makes me want to root for them to overcome all those obstacles, to say "fuck all that" (re:the world and all its fucked up shit) and find each other in the end. to eventually become each other's fav person and confidant. who obv still bicker and tease and insult each other all the time but they dont really mean any of it and over time it just becomes a running gag between them and no one else has to get it because it's just between the two of them.
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“Y’know, despite being twins, you two are so different.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. One that stuck with Sunstreaker in his memories for the years to come.
“Your hair is nice and kept while his is messy and all over the place. Fuck, even your hair colour is different!”
His brother liked his carefully brushed hair; Sideswipe said so himself. Admired his dedication to sculpt it every morning until he considered it perfect. Sideswipe also obsessed over their different hair colours— his a reddish brown and Sunstreakers a dirty blond— saying that they were both unique and special.
“He likes sports while you..like to sit on the sidelines and draw things.”
Was that a bad thing, though? Sunstreaker was content to watch his brother play and succeed while he drew. After all, the giddy smiles Sideswipe gave him when he finally relented and showed him his drawing was rewarding enough. He didn’t need metals, he only needed his brother's smile.
“You're so introverted and have like, no friends! He’s so popular; a big friend group too. Don’t you want that?”
He didn’t want that, didn’t need that. Sideswipe's friends were temporary, a thing to pass the time. It was cruel to say, but the truth nonetheless. None of them got the privilege to go home with Sideswipe and hear all his secrets like Sunstreaker did. No one had the chance to make Sideswipe scream with laughter like he did when they were together.
“He’s so smiley and you're just..not! It’s so weird; no wonder no one likes you.”
Sunstreaker stared out onto the ice where Sideswipe, number 13 on his jersey, fast as lightning and his one and only twin brother, scored the last goal of the season, the stadium yelling with joy or disappointment. Sunstreaker watched as Sideswipe threw his hands up as his body was soon squished between his cheerful teammates. It didn’t stop Sunstreaker finding his eyes in the mass of bodies, as blue as his own, from the bleachers, Sideswipe smiling wide as he laughed and waved at him.
Sunstreaker let a soft smile onto his lips, eyes crinkling. It didn’t matter that no one saw his smile except Sideswipe. From across the cafeteria, in the hallways, on the bleachers, in the privacy of their room. His smile was for Sideswipe and Sideswipe only, no one else. He was okay with that.
And when they got back to their room, he smiled once again as his twin hugged him tight, rambling about the game and other things. Sure, Sideswipe has friends, but nothing could compare to the bond they had together. Nothing.
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