FURINA'S HAIR: SYMBOLISM

⸢ FURINA'S HAIR: SYMBOLISM ⸥

OTHER NOTES ➽ My personal interpretation of our beloved archon's design, specifically the way she styled her hair in all forms.

SPOILERS ➽ SPOILERS FOR 4.2 ARCHON QUEST, PROCEED WITH CAUTION!

Focalors, who had pure straight hair. Seamlessly luscious befitting that of the divine.

Focalors, who separated her humanity and divinity, one day seeking that human half for a greater goal.

Focalors, who approached a short-haired Furina that possessed the same raw curiosity for living as Focalors did when she first left her watery form. So young yet so full of life.

Furina, accepting a role at the cost of herself, donning a polished attire that still resembled her human apparel.

Furina, who faced the eager audience that was Fontaine with the same long curls as Focalors, which was unlikely to have grown naturally in such a rushed length of time.

Furina, who paraded a unique haircut, yet you can see where the end of her short hair is, and where the temporary locks start.

Furina, who had shown us in her mental stage the rigorous pursuit of a solution for the prophecy; working with both her true human self and the godly persona she played.

Furina, who, unlike Focalor’s hair, had a distinct cut that’d separate the short thrill of humanity and the long lamentation of an archon.

Furina, who unlike Focalors', was always a figurehead even in design, one who didn’t have the same true divinity as Focalors.

Focalors, who, unlike Furina, didn’t have the pleasure of experiencing the glory of a god to her people nor the amusing titillation of a human.

Focalors, who will forever outgrow her hair until it’s long enough for even the Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale to chop it, thus ending her divine run.

Furina, who, unlike Focalors', was able to live out her humanity even when the long tresses of divinity were cut from her hair. Only appearing when assuming a fleeting role as Fontaine’s archon.

Furina, who may now grow her hair at her own pace, not as an artificial divinity, but as a human who yearned for spectacle.

Focalors, who designed her human self in a way that’d allow for Furina to grow, because that’s the one thing she knew she couldn’t fulfill herself, as evidenced by the lengthy tresses that flow behind her before her demise.

Focalors, whose hair is unnaturally split into two, might've been the forewarning of her two halves.

Focalors, and her humanity, are differentiated by the consequences of cutting their hair, of cutting their divinity.

Tag list :: @cxsinesis @luvielle

This is a PSA that I post my art on that other blog :>

I just wanted an excuse to draw him without his glasses

*click for better quality* [ ⚠️ Do not Repost without Credit || Likes and reblogs are welcomed ✅️ ]

eagle is fucking broken. she absolutely sweeps everything she touches and i dont know how to stop her. wtf go get them scout kiddo fuck em up

[fic] A Victorious Conquest

A Victorious Conquest

Ikemen Vampire | Arthur Conan Doyle x f!Reader | G | 499 words ao3 link (later)

You're alone in a pub, and a gorgeous man approaches you.

A/N: Another one for @cy-inky's one week challenge! This time the prompt is "Gosh, you are so beautiful." It's a detective AU; dunno whether this is modern setting or canon setting though, you decide! :D

Divider by @/saradika.

The dim lighting of the pub invites mystery and danger, and you're used to the cozy glow of coffee shops and libraries, where there is less noise, just soft murmurs enclosed in each table. The barman slams the mug in front of you, the beer sloshing inside, almost spilling, and you snatch your arms away from the counter. When it settles, you place your arms back, one hand tracing the mug handle, lost in thought.

Behind you: raucous conversations and ribald singing that have you chuckling to yourself with the absolute knowledge that you're out of place. To commemorate, you lift your mug and down your beer in one long gulp.

A body sidles up to your right, perching on a stool next to you.

“A gorgeous lady like you drinking like that ...” a flirty, masculine voice begins, “it catches attention, you know?”

The beer is half empty when you put it back on the table. In your periphery: crystal teal hair wisping around a fist against a cheek. You turn towards the source of the voice.

A beautiful man with a cheeky smile welcomes your sight.

“Whose attention?” you ask.

The man looks around as if gesturing at the entire pub. “What's your purpose coming here?”

“I wanted to meet someone.”

His expression grows intrigued. “Oh? A fantastical night, perhaps?”

You smile faintly. “Something like that.”

“And you're alone right now? How brave.”

“Is there something wrong with that?”

“Definitely.” He dips his head closer to yours, as if sharing a secret. When he speaks again, his breath tickles your ear. “Did you know that there have been a string of murders lately? I just worry for a lovely lady alone at a pub in the middle of the night. If you want, I can offer you protection...?”

A tempting offer, really. Amused, you turn your head slightly in his direction, lips an inch away from his. You hear his breath catch. “Gosh, you are so beautiful, you know?” you whisper back. “That's nice of you, truly, but you shouldn't scare somebody with that kind of rumor.”

He leans back, an inchoate grin in place. “It's all true. In fact, I'm a consulting detective for these cases.”

“Oh my.”

“So take my word for it when I say Paris has become dangerous lately. You never know ...” Then his demeanor suddenly shifts, sharpening. Darkening. “Unless you have a reason to remain confident of your safety?”

Ah. The smile that stretches your mouth is now indulgent, and the man narrows his gaze.

“Don't worry, sir—”

“Arthur.”

“Don't worry, Sir Arthur. You needn't concern yourself with me. Now then, it's time for me to leave—” You push yourself off your seat, nodding at him, and go on your way. “Thank you for the warning, Sir Arthur.”

Behind you Arthur calls out, “I never got your name, darling.”

You stop, turn back to him, and smile your most coquettish smile.

“Ah, yes. You may call me Lady Moriarty.”

I haven't posted any writing here in roughly a year 🤡. But if I were to write a Scarlet King!/King Deshret Al Haitham X Reader fic—

When Filipino Rook:

HC :: Not only is he partially conyo he's probably worked at selecta to write these godforsaken pick up lines.